#and the thing is that it would work on merlin too

[adhd-merlin]

in all ways but one

Relationships: Arthur/Lancelot; background Arthur/Gwen Rating: Gen Length: 2,500 words Summary: The homosexual side of the classic Arthurian love triangle, featuring jealousy, repressed bisexuals, and Unresolved Sexual Tension. Literally just this:

(x)

Excerpt:

It's all easy enough to ignore, at first. A lingering glance here, a fond smile there – things easy to brush off and hard to notice, unless someone were looking for the signs. Arthur notices.

***

"In all ways but one, Lancelot was a man of honour." — Arthur in episode 4x09 (Lancelot Du Lac)

After Lancelot gets knighted for the third time, and for the first time properly, there is still a certain awkwardness between him and Gwen. From the sidelines, Arthur watches them soldier on and ignore it for the sake of courtly manners, and probably for his sake, too. That which resolve has started, time finishes, slowly wearing away the thin layer of stiff formality between them.

Given he loves them both, Arthur should be glad of their rediscovered friendship. Sometimes he is. Other times, he has to remind himself to be.

***

It's all easy enough to ignore, at first. A lingering glance here, a fond smile there – things easy to brush off and hard to notice, unless someone were looking for the signs. Arthur notices.

He trusts them both with his life, which is why he says nothing. Gwen acts with the ease that only a guilt-free conscience can grant, and Arthur is almost as sure of Lancelot's love as he is of Gwen's. Neither of them would ever cross the line.

And yet.

And yet, it's difficult for Arthur to keep his jealousy at bay when he knows, deep down, that he won that initial fight for Gwen’s heart not by his own strength, but by default. He has tried not to wonder whose side Gwen would be sitting at if Lancelot had not left, but sometimes he falls into temptation. He’s come up with different answers at different times.

***

For Gwen’s first anniversary as queen, Arthur arranges a great feast and a tournament. Not very original, according to Merlin, but Gwen seems pleased. Even more so when Lancelot kneels at her feet and humbly begs her to allow him to fight in her honour. She accepts.

The next day, Arthur fights Lancelot at training. His blows, perhaps, land a bit harder than usual, and he might throw Lancelot on the ground with more force than strictly necessary. Lancelot says nothing. Arthur's right arm is so bruised afterwards that it hurts to lift anything heavier than a goblet of wine for an entire day.

The day of the tournament, Arthur plasters on a smile as he watches Gwen tie her monogrammed silk handkerchief around Lancelot's arm. He thinks of the much humbler favour she gave him, years ago, right before he kissed her for the first time. As they sit on the royal dais, watching the tournament, Arthur has to endure every one of Gwen's soft gasps and sighs of relief as Lancelot works his way through his opponents with single-minded efficiency. He wins the tournament, of course. Arthur wasn't expecting any less.

***

He will not humiliate himself or wrong them by asking them to stop.

And to stop doing what, exactly? They haven't breached any law of propriety, unless perhaps in spirit, in the privacy of their own hearts, which Arthur prefers to remain ignorant about.

At times, Arthur thinks it would be easier to bear it if he did not care for Lancelot as much as he does. He still feels indebted to him for stepping aside, with his customary grace, when it was clear that Gwen’s affections did not lie where Arthur had hoped.

And he understands entirely what drew Gwen to Lancelot – he might not have been a prince, and he's not a king, but he's as valiant a knight as Arthur ever was, true-hearted, chivalrous, and with a spirit noble enough to make up for his humble origins.

He's a few more things besides, things Arthur could never aspire to be – patient, sensitive, modest. Lancelot would not throw his goblet at his servant in a fit of anger, not even one as disrespectful as Merlin. He would not brag about his fighting skills, even though he's the best swordsman Arthur has ever met. If he were to find out Lancelot reads poetry in his free time, Arthur wouldn't be surprised.

Lancelot is, in short, perfect in every way – with the singular exception of being in love with his king's wife, and even this he does with such selflessness that it is almost enough to wipe away the stain of blame. Almost.

Be it as it may, Arthur can hardly fault the man for loving Gwen. He, of all people, knows very well how hard it is not to.

***

Despite Arthur’s best intentions, his worry and irritation start to show. They manifest in mean and petty ways, unbecoming of a friend, let alone a king – picking Lancelot for the most unpleasant rounds of patrol, ignoring him in council meetings, being liberal with criticism and stingy with praise on the training field.

Lancelot accepts it all with resigned obedience, which makes Arthur feel even worse.

***

One afternoon, Lancelot knocks on the door of Arthur's chambers. Gwen isn't there, having left to go explore the market stalls in the lower town. Sometimes, she asks Lancelot to accompany her – not today, it seems.

“Have I displeased you in some way, sire?” Lancelot asks, cutting straight to the point.

Arthur doesn't even lift his eyes from the letter he was writing. “What makes you think so?”

“Your attitude, sire,” Lancelot says, levelly, but with uncharacteristic bluntness. Arthur lifts his eyes then, arching his eyebrows at him. Lancelot meets his gaze, undaunted. “Forgive me, but I must speak the truth. You have always shown me extraordinary kindness, and you have been most gracious in accepting me amongst your knights, despite… what happened in the past–”

“I do not care about your little ruse, Lancelot, I told you,” Arthur interrupts him, jamming his quill in the inkwell. “It's forgiven.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Lancelot looks at Arthur with the same determined expression he wears on the training field, when he's squaring up to an opponent. It is clear he won't be dancing around the obvious any longer. “That isn't what I meant, sire. I do not wish to come between you and the queen.”

Arthur snorts. “Don't be presumptuous. What goes on between Guinevere and me does not concern you.”

“But what goes on between her and me concerns you,” Lancelot says. The withering look Arthur shoots him is not enough to stop him from taking a step forward. “I can see it, sire. I know that Gwen's heart belongs to you entirely, but I fear that my presence here is giving you cause to doubt it, and I do not wish to trouble your peace.” He stands straighter before announcing: “That is why I decided to leave Camelot.”

Panic pierces Arthur’s chest, as sharp and unexpected as a strike from a friend’s sword. “Don't be absurd,” he sneers, trying to mask his agitation with arrogance.

Lancelot maintains his composure. “I'm sorry, sire,” he simply says, and he genuinely looks it.

Arthur springs to his feet so abruptly his chair topples to the floor. Neither of them flinches. He walks around his desk, coming to stand in front of Lancelot. He cannot explain the anger that sweeps through him at Lancelot’s cool resolve.

Suddenly he’s a young prince again, watching the best knight he’s ever met slip through his fingers, and powerless to stop it – an unbearable feeling for a king who’s since grown used to having things go his way. 

“You swore an oath to me and Camelot,” Arthur says, trying to keep his anger from his voice. “To protect us both, and to serve me. Is your word really of so little worth?” A strange leap of association leads him to think of Gwen, left broken-hearted and tearful without so much as a goodbye after a narrow escape from a harrowing ordeal. With a few years’ delay, he feels outraged on her behalf. “Of course, that's your solution to all problems, isn't it, Lancelot? Running away. Guinevere won't be surprised to hear it – you did it once before, after all.”

He can see in Lancelot’s eyes that his words have wounded him, as he intended.

“I did it for you, sire, as much as her,” Lancelot says, quietly. “And it's for the love I bear you both that I beseech you now to release me from my oath.”

Even with a mind clouded by anger, Arthur hears what Lancelot is not saying. “You don't believe she would have chosen me.”

For the first time since he entered Arthur’s chambers, Lancelot's assuredness wavers. “I cannot presume to know what was in her heart,” he replies, but he lowers his eyes as he says it.

“And yet you left.”

“I didn't want to put her in the position of having to make a choice,” Lancelot says, because of course he would be the better man and think of others first, when Arthur was only thinking about himself. “When she confessed her feelings for me, she thought she might not live long enough to see you again.”

Arthur scoffs. “So it didn't count?”

“I only meant that she might not have been as forthright if we had met again under different circumstances.”

“But you don't doubt the truth of what she said,” Arthur insists, like a dog with a bone, not knowing himself what mad urge is driving him to drag the truth out of Lancelot when he's been trying to ignore it for so long.

Lancelot takes a moment to reply. “I believe she meant what she said, at the time,” he says, carefully, “and that she still holds me in esteem, despite what happened. That is all I can hope for. That is more than enough for me.”

“It’s not, though,” Arthur says, shaking his head. “You love her.”

The truth, now bare and undeniable, stands between them. Some emotion, which Arthur cannot name, flits across Lancelot's face at that accusation, like a ripple on the surface of a pond.

“I love her, sire, as much as I love you,” Lancelot says, his eyes as earnest and guileless as they were years ago, when, in a damp and dingy cell, he pleaded Arthur to let him ride at his side on a suicidal mission.

Arthur lets out a single burst of bitter laughter. “No, you don't.”

As he says this, Arthur’s anger evaporates, leaving only hurt in its place. He's not sure what pains him more – that Lancelot's love for Gwen surpasses his commitment to him, or that he would lie to Arthur's face about it.

“But I do, Arthur,” Lancelot protests. “I do.” He looks and sounds distressed, as if Arthur were doing him wrong by not believing him.

Lancelot's eyes search Arthur's face, hoping to find some trace of understanding. There is too much in those eyes – too much trembling honesty, despite his lies; too much devotion, for a man who was threatening to leave a mere moment ago – something too naked, too telling, so much so that Arthur feels the need to avert his eyes, as he did once, years ago, in that dingy cell. When he does so, Lancelot places his hand on Arthur’s face, turning it towards him again – and then, before Arthur can react, he presses his lips to his mouth.

It's a frantic gesture; a last resort. Arthur can tell from the way Lancelot's hand trembles on his cheek, from the desperation with which he pushes his mouth against his, all passion and no grace. Even so, the kiss lasts right up to the point of endurance, as if Lancelot needed Arthur to believe him. Perhaps he does – he is a man of honour; Arthur is certain he hates to be taken for a liar almost as much as he hates to lie.

Arthur doesn’t pull back, but he does not respond, either. He stands still and stiff, merely closing his eyes as he submits to Lancelot's tender assault out of confusion.

At last, the kiss ends. Lancelot takes his hand away and steps back, his eyes downcast, his face pale. Arthur just looks at him, with his mouth slightly open, too shocked to speak.

“Forgive me,” Lancelot says, his eyes fixed on Arthur’s boots. “I… I must go.”

He makes for the door, but Arthur’s hand, moving with no input from his mind, grabs Lancelot's wrist and pulls him back.

“No,” Arthur says, almost choking on the word. “Please. Stay.”

He's not entirely sure what he's asking, if he means ‘don't leave this chamber’ or ‘don't leave Camelot’; he only knows that he means: ‘don't leave me’, that the thought of Lancelot leaving is unbearable, just as it was the first time he did it, when Arthur had to watch the best man he ever met – the first man who ever truly understood what it meant to be a knight, perhaps better than Arthur himself – walk out of his life, leaving him with a feeling of loss he couldn't fully understand.

But Lancelot pulls his hand out of Arthur's grasp. “I'm sorry,” he says. There is genuine sorrow in his eyes.

Lancelot turns and leaves, and Arthur lets him go.

***

That night, Arthur seeks comfort in Gwen's body with an urgency that leads her to ask him what is wrong.

“Nothing,” Arthur lies, with a kiss between her breasts, because he can't very well tell her, ‘Lancelot is leaving us, and it is all my fault.’

Gwen looks unconvinced, but she pries no further.

***

The next morning, Arthur wakes with a feeling of dread, surprised that he's slept at all. He goes through his usual morning rituals with impressive stoicism – he eats his breakfast, reads the patrol report, and has Merlin prepare him for his training session, all the while listening to Merlin's mindless prattle, and never once throwing something heavy at his head.

He walks onto the training field much earlier than usual, expecting to find no one – but someone is already there, practising with a sword on a straw dummy. The distance is too great to make out much of him, but the precision and the swiftness of his movements are enough for Arthur to recognise the man at a glance. He starts walking faster.

“Lancelot,” Arthur breathes out when he's but a few steps away from him.

Lancelot turns. He doesn't bow to Arthur, as he normally would; instead, he wipes his sweaty brow with the back of his hand and looks at him warily. “Sire,” he says. He shifts his grip on the hilt of his sword.

“You're still here,” Arthur blurts out – an observation worthy of Merlin's wit, but the obvious relief in his voice seems to put Lancelot at ease.

Lancelot sheathes his sword. “You were right, sire. I took an oath to serve you and Camelot, so I'll endeavour to do so.” He pauses and adds, hesitantly: “That is, if you'll still have me.”

Arthur smiles at him without even meaning to. “I wouldn't wish you to be anywhere else.”

Lancelot's face clears up. “Then I remain your loyal servant,” he says, with feeling, and he bows.

Of course he is, just as he ever was, and Arthur was a fool to doubt it. The realisation hits him with staggering force, and it's all he can do not to embrace Lancelot.

He claps his hand on Lancelot's shoulder and squeezes it, instead. “Think you can beat me today?” he asks.

“I'll do my best,” Lancelot promises, almost solemnly.

Of course. “You always do, Lancelot,” Arthur says with warmth through the odd tightness in his throat. He backs a few steps and draws his sword, adjusting his grip with a twirl of his wrist. “Come on, then.”

With a happy smile, Lancelot unsheathes his sword.

#no plot just vibes <3 #make some noise if you like this. I've neglected work for this #low-key obsessed with that quote from ep 4x09 #I'll probably post this to ao3 too but it needs a polish first I think #arlance #arthur x lancelot #bbc merlin #merlin #merlin fanfiction #*

[fluffypotatey]

A Thought:

As Emrys, Merlin is a very powerful sorcerer.

However, his utter lack of any formal training means Merlin is not a very good sorcerer.

The magic he does should be theoretically impossible, but he's got enough raw fucking power to just make it work. Infant demigod smashing blocks together and creating a Lego Death Star.

Merlin: *does magic that Should Not Work*

Other sorcerers:

AND THEY ARE RIGHT TO FEEL UPSET

IMAGINE YOU'RE A SORCERER. YOU'VE BEEN PRACTICING YOUR CRAFT, SHOOTING THE SHIT, LAYING LOW, PLOTTING PLANNING.....THEN THIS FARMY BOY TWINK SHOWS UP AND NUKES THE FUCKING PRIESTESS OF THE LAKE OF AVALON

I'D FEEL PISSED TOO

like, bro, you meet him, you're apprehensive of him bc 'shit that's emrys'. the emrys. the dude that's said to be the greatest sorcerer to ever walk the earth. you meet him. you can feel his magic and like holy shit, what the fuck was that??? you ask him how the fuck he gained so much power by the age of 21????

merlin: you mean....y'all don't also just have magic doing shit when you're a toddler

you, the sorcerer who has had to spend years getting control to fucking heat up a teapot: .........no.......no our magic doesn't do that

goddamn do you wanna just chuck this adult child into the lake and be done with it. better yet, you wish for the sprites to just pick you up and use your body as a sacrifice for entrance into Avalon.

and then, and then

you see how this motherfucker fights against bandits and "WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU JUST PUSHING THEM AWAY??? WHERE'S THE SHOWMANSHIP??? THE PIZZAZZ??? HOW MANY SPELLS DO YOU KNOW???"

merlin, who forgot he can freeze time and space and can launch lightning bolts at people: uh....3???

it takes the triple goddess to restrain you from murking the prophesized warlock right then and there.

"NO, NO, FUCK THAT, FUCK THIS, FUCK ALL O' Y'ALL!" you scream as you jump on a ship and move to a place that doesn't have op young adult children who didn't study shit and yet still get an A+

#i could post this later.......but i won't so here we go #i am delirious it is......1:30 in the morning i should sleep and yet....here i sit #i hope this was enjoyable because this is the best fucking thing i've ever been granted the chance to read #headcanon fully accepted #this is canon #sorcerers hate merlin because he that's guy who always passes the class with flying colors but you know that bitch #sleeps during every lecture and never studied a day in his life #i know for a fact that gaius would have smacked merlin when they met but didn't bc this kiddo was too pure and sweet for this world #honestly a sorcerer who worked their ass off to be th best meeting s5 merlin who's tired & seen shit but only knows 7 spells #they would walk right out bc 'who tf does think think he is????' and merlin has had this interaction one too many time by then #bbc merlin #merlin #merlin emrys #headcanons #i want me screaming into the void at the witching hour to be my legacy

[opens-up-4-nobody]

hypothetical struggle between Christianity and paganism in bbc merlin? 👀 one that's very neurodivergent? 👀 do tell

Okay, so Athurian times take place in the early dark ages. Which was probably a weird time for religion in Britain. Because the Roman occupation had just come to an end, leaving behind the structure of catholicism at least with those in positions of power. But religious beliefs were still in the process of blending together with the local practices and other religions, leading to some odd gnostic beliefs. Obviously, bbc merlin doesn't talk about Christianity within Camelot but I think we can assume the catholic church would have a position at the round table. Presumably, Arthur would grow up instructed in catholic belief, go to mass, and have bishops or whatever advising him. He would rule by Devine right, sanctioned by the pope and magic would be characterized as demonic. And that somehow raises the stakes for me, imaging magical merlin within the walls of a very catholic Camelot.

I just have this image of merlin in the back of a cathedral as Arthur attends mass. Kneeling in this beautiful building, head bowed low as the congregation sings praise to a foreign God in a foreign tongue. A God that would apparently have merlin tied to a stake and burned alive. And merlin choking out his empty prayers, echoing in the verbal praise under the isolation of his nonbelief and magical association. Full of fear and venom.

The hypothetical struggle I imagine is one of catholic enforcement pushed by Arthur's religious advisors and Arthur's morality. Because Arthur is a good person and slaughtering a people on the basis religion is insane. So, what does it mean for Arthur if he stops listening to his advisors and starts accepting magic? He has to contend with a spiritual struggle, not just the secular issues presented in the show. And I would looooooove to watch that. The bending of Arthur's beliefs into something more flexible and less rigidly Christian according to the church of the time

#my knowledge on this topic in terms of historical accuracy is blurry so im im wrong: pls for the love of god correct me #but idk if arthur was catholic the entire structure of his idea of the universe would have to change if he started accepting magic #and i think that would be a super interesting transition. where would he land? would he shift to being a more gnostic style Christian? #lose his faith? idk id probably make him like my dad who thinks hell is a human construct and that all are welcom in the kingdom of heaven #and that people should just be kind to eachother. very les mis to love another person is to see the face of god #bc i loooove that idea. i find it fascinating. idk i just think religion is interesting #bc its like how ppl fundamentally understand the universe to work and that is so wild. like i can understand why it was so important in ye #oldy times lol. idk im just a bit fixated on it atm. like its the type of obsession thst feels too big for my head so its straining at the #seams. its also weird bc since its religion my brain is doing that awful thing where its questioning my interest in the topic like r u #questioning ur lack of faith? and im like bro no this is academic interest leave me alone. bc im prone to intrusive thoughts and obsessive #behavior. so thsts fun. but its not too unmanageable rn. so its interesting #idk i probably sound unhinged. lmao i headcanon ✨️ catholic!arthur ✨️ and his fall from grace in the eyes of the church rip #ay religion in not necessarily bad but human institutions are usually fucked #merlin rambling #unrelated

[drewsaturday]

i like.... obviously am just tossing strickler & co. into shows that take place in the past because it's fun but i forgot that lost world is the specific brand of batshit that REALLY makes it work.

for example, lost world's plateau has an unseen city of avalon that is noted to be a place untouched by time and has some really mystical capabilities.

toa has camelot as a fucking floating castle surrounded by time travel.

i.

#trollhunters tag #how did i forget about that #veronica is probably descended from like... king arthur or morgana or something honestly bc she's from the avalon line #(or ugh even merlin :') i cant live with myself imagining a world where merlin fucks tho) #and marguerite being from mordred's line & the note about there being some offspring of mixed lines means #she could be that too #i think the changeling gang would go to the plateau in the first place for SOMETHING related to morgana obvs - #trying to find a host for her or some artifact that would help release her #or maybe even just to find camelot if it really is just vibing there #but jfjjl;slkjj man lost world rly is just like 'oh vaguely popular thing in history and mythos??? our city now <3' #which makes it. a wildly perfect time to cross over with literally anything #ALSO the plateau has ~shifting realities~ and time travel altogether #which we didnt get a ton of because ~cliffhanger~ but the season 4 notes go off the rails #and it makes cross-dimensional stuff work too if u wanna go by the idea of them taking place in diff universes/timelines #but i do think all of the above & sanctuary all work as taking place within the same universe weirdly so im just. #man.

[aquabreezy]

My new favorite Merlin AU is that Merlin finally confesses to Arthur about his magic, but Merlin is too flustered to think straight and there’s some miscommunication.

What Merlin says: I have magic 😔

What Merlin thinks he said: I am a powerful sorcerer and I use my magic every day to protect you and all of Camelot. We are two sides of the same coin, our destinies forever intertwined. Spare me and I will help you become the once and future king.

What Arthur hears: I know a few cantrips. Please don’t kill me.

So Arthur eventually comes to terms with Merlin knowing some magic and things kinda go back to normal except Merlin starts using minor spells in front of Arthur to speed up chores.

But then while Arthur is working to legalize magic (because of course he would) and make reparations to magic users, he asks Merlin to accompany him to a meeting with the Druids. Arthur asks the Druids to nominate a court sorcerer and they just look at him confused like

Druids: why not ask the great sorcerer Emrys?

Arthur: ok where do I find him?

Druids: points to Merlin sitting 1 foot away

Arthur: why did you hide this vital information from me!?

Merlin: … I did tell you, didn’t I? Whoops

Bonus

Arthur: Gwen! Knights! Merlin is the most powerful sorcerer to ever live! Can you believe it?

Everyone … yeah. We saw him shooting Lightning while riding a dragon just last week.

Arthur:🫨…😐

#merlin #arthur pendragon #king arthur #bbc merlin #magic reveal #misunderstandings #queen qwen #emrys

[livinginshambles]

I'll reschedule | James Potter

Pairing: James Potter x Fem!Reader

Word count: 3.7k

Summary: James faces the consequences of his actions. A confrontation goes wrong and you have a chat with Sirius.

Notes: Thank you guys for your kind comments! I hope I tagged everyone that wanted to be tagged. Also the parent part is very self-indulgent lmao

Part one Masterlist

________________

James spent the following days trying to get your attention and receiving a taste of his own medicine.

You gave him another smile that didn’t fully reach your eyes and he cursed at himself for somehow having your relationship feel so distant and awkward. He was your boyfriend for Merlin’s sake!

“I can’t, I’m-“

“-sorry, yeah. I know.” James almost let out a pained laugh at the irony of the situation.

‘Oh how the tables have turned,’ James bitterly thought to himself in defeat. You leaned forward as if you were going to give him a kiss, his heart jumping at the thought.

He realised in horror that he couldn’t recall the last time he had given you a proper kiss on the lips and could do nothing but watch in disappointment as you changed your mind mid-step and left for whatever it was that you had planned, with nothing but a small wave.

James spent the next day in class stealing glances at you. You noticed it of course, but couldn’t bring yourself to look back, humiliation at his words still lingering in the back of your mind. ‘Why are feelings so complicated’, you groaned in dismay.

You sighed and buried your face in your hands, arms propped up by your elbow on your desk. You’d talk to him tomorrow. Tomorrow was the last day before Christmas holidays. If everything went south, you’d be able to escape for two weeks. Not that you needed that back up plan. Everything was going to be fine.

Everything was not fine.

“You were eavesdropping on us?!” James shouted out, an offended look on his face and his hands thrown in the air. You visible winced at his loud voice.

You couldn’t help but scoff at the fact that of all the things you said, what you finally confessed about your feelings, that that’s what he picked up on.

You stared at him in disbelief for a moment. Your mouth open while you tried to look for words.

“You’re really going to- you know what? Yes. And I’m sorry for eavesdropping alright? In fact, I too would’ve preferred not to have heard you guys say those horrible things, but I did hear it all, and you did say all that,” you shot back angrily.

“But if you wanted me to back off and be less of a clingy, high maintenance attention demanding loner, then maybe, just maybe,” you stressed the word maybe. “You could’ve pulled me aside and told me you were embarrassed of me in private, instead of telling all your friends except for me! That’s not how a relationship works, that’s cowardice.”

“Oh so you’re an expert on relationships now?” He scoffed. “How would you know how relationships are supposed to work, I’m the first bloody friend and boyfriend you’ve ever had! If not for me, you would have no one.” He spat out the last sentence and as soon as it left his mouth, he clamped his mouth shut and took two steps back in disbelief at his own words. Regret immediately setting in.

Your face was heating up, in embarrassment and anger. You took a few steps back in shock as well. You wanted to yell at him, tell him that you’d become friends with your potions partner recently, that he wouldn’t know that, because he’d been acting like an arse with his head stuck up in it, but you didn’t. You didn’t want to fight. You took a deep breath.

‘Count to ten, Y/N.’

James opened his mouth and closed it again, no words coming out, still shocked at himself. He felt like he was in a daze, that this was a bad dream.

The silence was too much, the tension too high. He half expected you to reach out and slap him across the face, but also knew you wouldn’t. So instead he stood there frozen, awaiting your reaction.

James could feel blood rushing in his ears before you finally broke the silence.

“That’s not how a relationship works for me,” you repeated calmly but firmly, completely disregarding his insult. This time however, you emphasized the last two added words.

James seemed to sober up alarmingly fast at that. He shot up in panic and shook his head in denial. “No, I didn’t mean that. I didn’t mean any of it! I’m not embarrassed of you, Darling. I’m not, I promise,” he tried, finally finding the words.

He looked at you pleadingly and watched helplessly as you pulled a hand through your hair in a distressed manner, jerking away from him when he reached out to you.

It was quiet again in the room. The only sounds your heavy breathing.

“It’s not working for me.” You eventually whispered, hurt evident in your voice at your sad realisation. You said it more to yourself than to him, but his ears caught it anyway.

James’ heart skipped in fear. The implication of your words were crystal clear to him. It smacked him in square the face and had him physically reel back. He stumbled back into the nearest wall. It hadn’t even occurred to him that you two breaking up was ever a possibility. You were madly in love with each other. And he loved you so incredibly much, you knew that, right? He felt nauseous.

You didn’t spare him another glance and stumbled away, desperate to get away from him. James’ knees buckled and he sunk to the floor, shock keeping the tears at bay for now.

Everything was really not fine.

“Prongs! Welcome back mate, I heard you’re a free man again!” Sirius greeted James with a cheer and a slap on the back when entered the common room. Sirius was wearing a big grin on his face.

James jerked away and furiously shook his head. “No, she- we haven’t broke up,” He insisted. “We had a fight b-but, we never officially said we were done, so we’re still- she’s still my girlfriend. So don’t say that, it's not true-“

Sirius noticed how distraught James actually was about the situation and the grin abruptly fell off his face, making space for concern. He put his hand on James shoulder in an attempt to comfort him. He threw a look at Peter and Remus who looked taken aback by his defensive tone, also looking concerned.

“Okay,” Sirius nodded. “She’s still your girl, Prongs. Understood.” James nodded back and then shook Sirius’ arm off his shoulder and went upstairs to their room, plopping down on his bed, smothering his head in his pillow where he could finally cry.

You took the train and left Hogwarts that very same day. You called your dad and he promised to come pick you up at the platform. When you saw him, the only one on the platform so late in the evening, you ran up to him and he held you tightly. “Come on, sweetheart,” he nodded in appreciation at the elf who brought your luggage and brought you home.

You sighed and plopped on your bed, face first into the mattress. Exhaustion downing on you all at once and you fell asleep within minutes.

Your mother knocked on the door, knowing that that sufficed as you were a light sleeper. “Honey?” She called. “I know it’s late, but I think you should eat something nonetheless.” You made a noise.

“That mean I can come in?”

You lift you head up so you could say yes and she came in with a bowl of soup. You gratefully accepted it and she took the liberty of sitting next to you.

“You want to tell me about it?”

“Not really,” you admitted and your mother gave you and understanding look. “Then we’ll keep you distracted for now. In fact, the day after tomorrow, your father and I are having dinner with the Black family. You could come with us.”

“But it’ll just be all business talk,” you groaned, placing your bowl of soup on your night stand.

“Yeah, well you know the Black family is the main investor in your father’s business, business talk is unavoidable. But you know what, it wouldn’t be just business. They said that they would love to meet you.”

‘Doubtful,’ you thought.

“I’ll think about it.” You replied.

“That’s okay, you have another day to consider it.” And with that, your mother kissed your forehead before leaving your room, taking the empty bowl with her. “Goodnight honey,” she said before closing the door gently. ‘Sirius was always spending his holidays at Hogwarts, so it’d be safe to go,’ you considered.

‘So the fates are really into proving me wrong, lately huh,” you thought to yourself as you spotted Sirius with a scowl on his face, standing with his parents in front of their manor to great you.

And so, before you know it, you were sitting at the end of the ridiculously long table, in front of Sirius. You wondered where his younger brother Regulus was. “Let the children sit together, business is boring to them anyways,” you father had said.

Though he hadn’t been wrong, you would pay to be part of the adult talks rather than sit here in awkward silence, avoiding Sirius’ eyes.

The past three days had been a rollercoaster for Sirius. First, he had been mildly annoyed at the letter that came with an owl that belonged to his mother. Then, he had been absolutely dreading going home. He also felt bad and concerned for James, because he was being a sad pile of bones. And when he saw you, surprise and guilt seeped in. A real rollercoaster.

Sirius kept staring intensely at you. Finally, you’ve had enough and you snapped at him. “What do you want.”

“I need to talk to you, privately.”

“Why would I talk with my ex's best friend?We have nothing to talk about, and I’d rather die than be in a room alone with an arsehole like you.”

“You’re not his ex.” He pointed out.

You raised your eyebrows at his words, inquiring him to explain himself.

“You’re not- You two are still together. I mean, you never officially said it was over. You’re still his girlfriend, he’s still your boyfriend. James is still holding on to that.” Sirius searched your face for reactions to that confession but found nothing.

“Fine, I guess I’ll just officially send him an owl then,” you replied dryly, done with his crap. You threw your napkin on the table and got up. You excused yourself, thanked Sirius’ mother for the food and walked out of the room. So much for this being a distraction from James.

“Wait, Y/N!” Sirius yelled out as he chased after you. You kept walking, neither slowing down, nor speeding up, as you walked in the direction of your house, despite knowing that it was an hour drive by car.

A heavy silence hung between you two as he walked next to you, both staring out in front of yourselves.

“It’s my fault.”

Now this made you look up at Sirius. You eyed him up and down sceptically, coming to a stop. “Don’t give yourself so much credit, Black. You’re definitely not my favourite person on this planet, but despite you talents at DADA, last I checked, you can’t cast the Imperio curse yet.” Sirius refrained from grinning at your retort.

“So unless you’re telling me that you’ve been using the polyjuice potion and posing as James Potter who has been a massive twat of a boyfriend for over a month, I highly doubt it’s your fault.” With that, you continued walking again.

“No, and no. You’re right, I guess.”

“I am.”

Sirius gave you a look and tried again. “Look, he was just all over you. And maybe I had to get used to Prongs being a taken guy, all mushy, but we all missed him. So I teased him a little,” he explained but hesitated at the end.

“You teased him a little,” you flatly repeated. “You teased him and it turned him into an asshole?”

“It was just a bunch of guys laughing about our whipped friend,” he paused. “Okay and some complaining,” he admitted. “I didn’t know he would straight up go to avoiding you because he was embarrassed to show affection in front of us though.”

You massaged your temples. “Okay first of all, you suck and you’re a shitty friend.” Sirius pulled a face. “Eh, deserved,” he scratched the back of his head.

“But my point still stands. James chose to lie to me by making up excuses to not have to be around me.” You huffed in frustration. “I’m not... I’ve never been in a relationship before, but I’m pretty sure that’s like, rule number one of things not to do.” You kicked against a pebble on the road.

“And then he goes and says horrible stuff about me behind my back. That’s probably rule number two,” you added, a frown on your face at the recollection of events.

“But if that wasn’t enough, he didn’t listen to me when I told him how I felt about it and instead yelled at me, trying to shift the blame on me, as if it’s my fault that I overheard you guys. Oh and also, he insulted me again! Though, in my face this time, I’ve got to give him that.” You mumbled the last part bitterly and looked back up at Sirius who awkwardly looked at his feet while listening to you rant.

“So no, Sirius. You were a shitty friend, but by no means the cause of our break up. That’s on James.”

“Please, you don’t understand,” Sirius pleaded again. “James is miserable alright? As in he’s kind of being pathetic right now, he refuses to believe you guys broke up. He keeps insisting that you’re still together, that he still has a chance to make up to you.”

It was your turn to look at your feet. Sirius continued. It was his turn to talk now and he felt he needed to help his friend. “He loves you so much. He really misses you.”

You wryly smiled at Sirius. “He tell you to say that?”

“No. Well, not explicitly.” Sirius patted his back pockets and fished a crumpled envelope out of it. He handed it over. When you opened it, you found a folded piece of paper that simply said ‘I am so sorry. I miss you and I love you so much.’ In James’ handwriting. You sighed.

“Look, I’m just trying to help my git of a friend who is madly, hopelessly in love with you. And I’m trying to make things right between you two because I am partially at fault. And I know you love him. He’s just being an big idiot.”

“Try ginormous.”

Sirius now openly grinned. Okay maybe you weren’t so bad after all.

“Will you please talk to him? I’m sure he will apologize because he regrets everything. I know he does. And if you decide you don’t want to be in a relationship anymore, you tell him. Just not by sending an owl right now before talking one more time, please.”

A car sounded its horns behind you and you turned around to see your mother and father. The car stopped next to you and the door opened. You turned to look at Sirius again. “Will you see James before I do?” You asked. Sirius nodded.

You handed him the envelope back. He hesitated to accept it. “Give him this. Don’t worry, I’m not breaking up with my boyfriend. I’ll talk to him at Hogwarts.” You reassured him.

Relieved at your words, Sirius took the envelope and you gave him a thumbs up. “You’re not so bad, Black,” you said as you got in the car.

“Back at you!” He called after you. He watched your car drive off.

He checked inside the envelope and found the folded piece of paper. When he unfolded it, he found a uno reverse card stuck in between.

James was nervous. He impatiently paced around on platform 9¾, having arrived there way too early. Sirius had moved in with him over the holidays, running away from home and had brought a certain envelope with him. James heart had leaped when he found your card, putting it carefully under his pillow at night, carrying it in his pocket during the day.

“Merlin, Prongs would you just stand still,” Sirius commented from where he sat, leaning against a wall, cigarette twirling between his fingers.

“I can’t, Padfoot. This is literally the moment that will define the rest of my life!” James exclaimed dramatically, but walked over to Sirius and plopped down next to him anyways, mimicking Sirius’ action by twirling the game card around.

“Mate, you’ll be fine. She literally let you know she loved you too.” He nodded at the object James’ hands.

“But what if she loves me, but realised that she wants to be with someone who hasn’t acted like a stupid idiot?” James’ heart was racing at the thought. He’d spent the entire first week wallowing misery.

Other students started to arrive at the platform and James got back up to start pacing around again.

You softly pushed him away and immediately, the stream of self-deprecating words, apologies and other rambles flowed out of James’ mouth. You pecked his lips again to shush him.

You spotted each other at the same time. You offered him a hesitant smile but it was enough for James to take off in a sprint towards you.

He stopped in in front of you, unsure and apologies ready on the tip of his tongue. Someone called your name behind you and you looked back to see Wylan.

Turning to face James again, you offered him a fond expression and tiptoed to press a peck to his lips. James immediately responded to the kiss and he sighed in relief, shoulders less tense.

“We’ll talk later, okay?”

No, not okay, he wanted to say but you cut him to it.

“I’ve got a friend waiting for me,” you beamed up at him in pride and he melted at the sight. “Okay,” he relented, making a mental note to tell Remus and Peter to apologize to you too.

“You’ll let me know when you have time?” He asked.

“I’ll make time for you,” you assured him. “We’ll talk after supper, if you don’t have any plans of course,” you teased.

James shook his head laughing. “I won’t,” He replied earnestly.

“You don’t know that! Like what if a famous Quidditch player wants to meet you after supper, huh? Then what?” You challenged him. He shrugged.

“I’ll reschedule.” He grinned.

You shake your head and leaned in to press a kiss to his cheek. He watched you head in the direction of your Ravenclaw friend who had his back turned to you and walked back to Sirius.

“Wylan!” You skipped over and slung an arm around him, ruffling his already messy hair. He looked up as if he’d been caught doing something wrong and relaxed with a smile when he saw it was just you. You laughed at his skittish behaviour. “So how was your holiday?”

“I actually got a book on alchemy for Christmas. I brought it with me, thought maybe you’d help me?” He asked nervously, a bit embarrassed at his request.

“Oh none of that,” you waved your hand at his antics. “I’ve been helping you with dyslexia for a while now, of course I’ll help!” He offered you a grateful smile.

“You have it with you now?”

Wylan nodded and pulled out a ridiculously heavy book. You whistled. “Better get started on that right away, huh. We should find a seat.”

You two moved to get on the Hogwarts Express, but before you disappeared inside, you looked back at James to see he did the same thing. You exchanged smiles, he dramatically made a deep bow and mouthed ‘milady’. Then he turned around and pumped his fist in the air, grinning from ear to ear.

Sirius patted James on the back when he returned. “See, nothing to worry about. Right back to snogging your girl,” he laughed out loud, but no malicious intent this time.

“Still a long way to go, though,” James admitted, but he wore a fond smile on his face at the thought of you, all giddy inside. “But we’ll be alright, I think. I’ll be the best bloody boyfriend out there you know. You better get used to the snogging. And be nice to her, she really means a lot to me.”

Sirius pushed him. “I’ll have you know that we’re on extremely good terms now,” he exaggerated.

James snorted. “No, you’re not,” he immediately said.

Sirius grinned, having fun riling him up. “Why don’t you go ask her yourself, if you don’t believe me.”

James and Sirius walked towards their own compartment where they waited for Peter and Remus, arguing about it.

About two months later, Gryffindor had won the Quidditch match against Ravenclaw. You ran down the stands and up to James, jumping in his arms. He fiercely kissed you, his friends and teammates hollering at him.

“Good luck charm,” he cheekily mumbled against your lips while flipping the others off, earning laughter. When the celebratory party was finally over, and the marauders and you retreated to their dorm, James instantly pulled you onto his lap, locking you in with his arms wrapped around you so tightly that you wriggled to get some air. Jokingly, you tapped out three times in mock surrender.

“And the winner is...”, Sirius drumrolled. “James Potter!” Remus and Peter jokingly clapped and cheered.

“Means you can let her breathe now, Prongs.” You mouthed a thank you at Sirius.

James pouted, offended. “Since when are you two such good buddies,” He complained.

Sirius stuck his tongue out. “Wouldn’t you like to know, lover boy. I told you, Y/N and I are on extremely good terms now.” He winked at you.

“Thought you’d be more happy that your girlfriend and brother could get along. I mean, figured it won’t be long until she becomes my sister-in-law.”

@moonyslibrary98 @wildernessflora @fanboyluvr @spiderman-stilinski @magical-spit @livelaughlivedilfs @nyenye @fluffybunnyu @prongs-moon @xcinnamonmalfoyx @akila-twt @treestarrrrrrrr @mrsmaybank13 @ireallywannasleep127 @imarimon @targaryenmoony @jessicamellarky @scriptsofthorns @lynbubble @variant-lokitty @elsie-bells @chichi3095 @my-beloved-fandoms @quackitysdrugdealer @pleasingregulus @mindflay3r @littlenerdybee

#james potter x fem!reader #james potter x reader #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #james potter fluff #marauders era #james potter #james potter angst #james potter fic #james potter imagine #marauders fanfic #marauders

[shanastoryteller]

ROSES ARE RED, AND THIS IS BEDONKS
CAN I PRETTY PLEASE HAVE SOME PERCY AND TONKS 🌹💖

“What’s going on with Percy?”

Kingsley looks ups from his paperwork to find Amelia looming over him. Not exactly a common occurrence, since he’s well over a foot taller than her. “Brooks?”

“Merlin, don’t speak to me about Percy Brooks,” she says, pulling a face. She’s the one who brought him up! “Weasley.”

He blinks several times, rolling through Arthur’s children until he lands on the appropriate redhead. A bit uptight, considering his parentage, but Molly can fret with the best of them up until she gets fed up and settles matters with her wand. “I could get Tonks in here, if you want.”

“Do they know each other?” she asks in interest. “They were in different houses, and a couple years apart.”

How does she know that? He knew that, but it was against his will. “Tonks is dating him. Or trying? I’m not totally clear on the specifics despite her best efforts.”

He hadn’t anticipated how much work it would take for him to dodge a trainee determined to complain to him about her love life. It speaks well of her future in the field, at least. Or poorly of his own abilities, but he’s fairly confident in those, so he’s comfortable giving her the credit here.

“Great, a harassment case waiting to happen for our department,” she says dryly.

He rolls his eyes. “The only person he’s complaining about it to is Tonks. Who takes it as encouragement. Which, considering the cause and effect, it very well might be.”

“That’s what I’m talking about,” Amelia says. “What’s what this kid?”

Kingsley is lost again. “Can you get a little more specific?”

“Crouch’s department has become efficient, and dare I saw, effective over the last couple months. It’s certainly got nothing to do to with Crouch, since he’s been useless for nearly a decade. The only thing that’s changed is Percy. Who attends every meeting, claiming Crouch sent him to take notes, and then memos and policy get signed and sent out of Crouch’s office when I know for a fact Crouch is too busy harassing me to do his damn job.”

He tries to avoid the obvious answer because it’s the most ridiculous. “You think it’s him?”

“Who else?” she returns.

Well. “Do you… want me to arrest him?”

“What good would that do?” she demands. “The department is operating smoothly for once. I want to know what his deal is. Is he loyal to Crouch? Plotting against us? Just really passionate about bottom thickness?”

Not according to Tonks.

Uhg.

If he was alone, he’d bang his head on his desk until he’s unable to remember what Tonks’s voice sounded like and then maybe he’d know peace.

“Everyone’s got to start somewhere,” he says. “You’re noticing. Maybe that’s what he’s after.”

“I’m noticing because I notice everything. He’s taking significant steps to ensure people don’t notice. How’s he supposed to get promoted that way? Or transferred?” She shakes her head. “He’s doing it for a reason. Do me a favor and find out.”

Why can’t she ask him something simple, like hiding a body or burying evidence?

Now he has to spend his lunch break listening to Tonks talk about her not-boyfriend.

#hii! #prompt answers #prompts are closed #asks #lance-with-a-chance-of-anxiety #harry potter #siat #last valentines day prompt!! #DAYS before the end of the month too!! #which is so good for me

[frost-queen]

My mortal flaw // part 3 (Reader x Zuko)

Forever tag:@missmelodramatic, @merlin-dahlia, @alex--awesome--22, @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly @denkisclown, @wildieflower, @meyocoko, @bubblybrianna, @justanothercoco, @subjecta13-thefangirl, @m-rae23, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr, @swampthing07, @melsunshine, @panhoeofmanyfandoms, @venomsvl, @the-uncoordinated-house-cat, @rosecentury,  @imagines-by-her,  @evilcr0ne, @vviolynn, @iixchloee, @cherrysxuya, @zhochikennugget,  @ficsmoothie, @reallysparklychaos, @deafeningartisancandy, @multifandom-lover01, @smilefortae, @bravelittlebastard, @mysticwitchcraftco, @roseazura, @katie-tibo, @savannah0111, @defnotriri, @darkened-writer, @avrilh, @anea08, @mymoonempress, @tcey0

Summary: Clinging to life, you have a fever dream of how it all started. How you came to meet your intended. Meanwhile Zuko's temper resurfaces when not knowing for sure if you'd make it out alive. [ part 1  & part 2 & part 4 ]

An ancient roaring filled the skies. It made Zuko pause for a moment. Looking upon the ancient spirit of the sea. The avatar amidst, with bright lighted eyes and tattoos. – “Nephew.” – Iroh called out seeing him linger. Zuko tore his gaze away, following his uncle back to the ship. They left the northern water tribe to their fate, running away. One would call them cowards. Others caring, for it was with a purpose they were running.

Two to be precise. One it was too dangerous for the prince to be involved. Zhao’s doing infuriating Iroh. Two they had to bring you to safety. The moon’s disappearing made you vulnerable. Unable to bend. Leading to Zhao’s men to fight you. Assuming you were with the water tribe from your attire.

Zuko having left you to fend for your own while he searched for the Avatar. The one thing that would restore his honour. Honour which meant a great deal to the fire prince. Banished by his father with the claim to only return with the avatar.

They got hoisted up on the ship. Zuko rushed with you to the quarters. Iroh following close by. Zuko kicked the door open with his foot, rushing inside. Pantingly, he laid you down on the bed. He turned away from you as Iroh came nearer, kneeling beside you. Holding a hand above your head to see the state of you.

One of prince Zuko’s men entered. – “Get us out of these waters!” – Zuko ordered loudly. The soldier bowed his head and took his leave. Iroh brought your hand up, checking your pulse. – “Is... is she?”  - Zuko asked unable to look. – “No… it is faint, but still there.” – Iroh answered. Iroh looked up surprised when he heard the door slam.

His nephew nowhere to be found. Iroh tended back to you. – “Pray the moon spirit returns.” – he said with a worried face. He exhaled deep. If only he had stopped Zhao better, he could’ve prevented him from killing the spirit. If only he had stopped Zhao sooner. By the moment he wanted to end the prince.

Zuko appeared on deck, shouting orders. His men working to the bone to get them out of these waters. Away from the Northern water tribe. Zuko walked forwards looking up as he saw the moon once more. The grim world back in balance. The ship steered through the waters and ice. Breaking it apart. The ice platforms dispersing into smaller bits.

Zuko shouted some more orders, pointing firmly at everyone he thought was slouching. Standing still in the middle of the deck with his hands behind his back. He inhaled deep, exhaling long with a hot breath. A bit of fog forming before him. His head turned slightly, looking a bit over his shoulder. He blinked numbly. Letting his shoulders hang a bit, knowing you were back there, fighting for your life.

Iroh had placed wet cloths on your bruises. A special crème made from herbs plastered on your wound. He knew you needed a healer, but they had none. You were the only one capable of. Now he could only watch you. From behind the table, he kept an eye out, pouring himself some tea. Slightly shaking his head, he wasn’t sure if you’d recover. If Zuko would recover.

Knowing how rough your path had started out. An agreement of marriage between two nations. Knowing very well his brother only accepted just to unleash more dishonour on his nephew. Yet what Ozai didn’t seem to see, was that prince Zuko might draw strength from this agreement. Iroh took his tea and came sitting by your bed. Humming a soft song that reminded him of his own son.

Ladies came and went. Taking you from room to room. Where you had first bathed. Then sat down for your hair to be done. Then you got led into a room where they dressed you. Two girls walked around you in opposite ways to wrap a band around your waist. They pulled hard at it making you gasp soft. They bound it, coming to the front to bow in your presence. – “You’ll bring peace to us all.” – they said opening their arms with long sleeves that covered up their hands.

You got pushed off the small stool. – “You are ready.” – Another woman said. Much older than the girls had helped you. She had entered the room without you noticing it. You looked at yourself in the mirror, not sure what to feel. – “Not yet.” – another voice came through, a male’s voice. Looking to your side, you saw your father, the chief enter. – “Our pendant for balance.” – he said revealing the necklace with the circle pendant on it. He moved his arms over your head to hold the necklace against your neck. – “You must proudly show it.” – he said as you touched the pendant.

He kissed your cheek as it made you smile. – “You’ll bring peace to us all.” – he said as well, making your smile falter. A heavy burden being bestowed upon you. Feeling as if the whole world was looking at you. Your father took you by the arm, guiding you outside. The doors opened as you were blinded by the bright sunlight at first. The entire courtyard filled with people from your town. They bowed in unison making you swallow nervously. Your father let go of you.

You took a few steps forwards, down the steps. Pausing midway to look back at your father, who remained stationed. He gave you a proud nod. Taking a deep breath, you turned back to the people. Going down the steps further till you reached the courtyard. The people moving aside to create a pathway for you to walk. As you kept walking, they all bowed their heads when you passed.

“Please bring peace to us.” – a woman said when you passed her. A man followed somewhere behind her. – “Please bring peace.” – he spoke with a bow. Soon you heard from all sides, people asking, begging for peace. Depending on you and this agreement to bring peace back to the world. That with this unison the fire nation would seize their torment.

Keeping your head high, you didn’t want them to see the worry you were carrying. Having the entire town and the nations depend on you. To make it right. To bring back balance to the nations. They couldn’t depend on the avatar anymore. There hasn’t been an avatar in a hundred years. People grew hopeless. Now they had been given hope once more. The people closed the pathway behind you, coming back together to say see you off with well wishes.

You neared the edge as the crowed feeling sunk into nothingness. Complete solitude as you descended alone. You accepted the hand that assisted you on the boat. To start your journey to the fire nation. Doors opened as it revealed a long corridor. Alone you had to walk up to accept your end of the agreement. The corridor felt cold, despite being light up by fire.

Hands over each other inside your sleeves, your gaze shifted doubtfully down. Taking a soft breath to ease your nerves. – “Ancestors. Hear my plea.” – you said softly. – “Help me to make this work. To not uproot my tribe. Keep my father standing tall.” – you finished your prayer before you reached the end of the corridor.

The hearing of you winching in pain made Iroh get up. At that same moment entered Zuko the room once more. Iroh’s hand on your forehead. – “She is burning up.” – he let his nephew know. Zuko clenched his jaw, balding his hands into fists. – “Then cool her down!” – he shouted at his uncle. Iroh stared baffled at his nephew. – “How?” – he said with open hands.

He was no use as a fire bender for this. Zuko groaned angrily, slamming the door shut behind him. Iroh sighed soft. – “Forgive my nephew…” – he spoke to you. – “We feel helpless Y/n.” – he lowered his head. He placed the blanket better over you. Iroh dapped some sweat off your forehead with a dry cloth. You were winching in your unconsciousness, fighting of dreams that only meant to torment you. Iroh got startled when the door opened once more.

Zuko entering with a bucket of water. – “Do what must!” – he ordered. Zuko set the bucket rather forcefully on the ground. A bit of it splashing over the side to wet the flooring. Iroh scooped his hand inside, pulling away at the ice coldness from it. – “Where did you get such ice-cold water?” – he questioned. The water they had on board wasn’t nearly as cold as this. – “The ocean.” – Zuko responded with a grunt. – “Now do as  you are told!” – he insisted, taking his leave once more.

Iroh glared briefly at the door. – “That temper.” – he sighed out, not liking that it was showing itself once more. Even against him. Iroh wetted the cloth with ice cold water, wringing it before laying it on your forehead. It made you shiver in a breath, shuddering at the cold touch. Then your body eased as your expression seemed to calm.

“One last thing.” – Ozai spoke making Zuko pause before boarding the ship. His lip still trembling a bit. Ozai stepped aside revealing you. – “Don’t forget your bride.” – he said with a sneer. The young prince widened his eye at you. You went down, kneeling on the ground, head low to bow to the fire prince. Lifting your head up, you addressed him. – “Prince Zuko.” – getting back up afterwards. Zuko couldn’t comprehend what was happening.

His expression twitching a bit. Trying to settle for shock or anger. – “I don’t want a bride. I don’t need a bride.” – Zuko made clear. Ozai flashed a stern stare at the young prince. Zuko lowered his head, making himself small. Ozai gave you a little push towards the prince. You stumbled forwards unsure why you were meeting the prince at a ship.

Zuko groaned frustrated getting on the ship. You looked behind you to Ozai. He pointed firmly at the ship. Two men grabbed you by each side, forcing you onto the ship to join your intended in banishment. The ship set sail as it felt like you had failed. How could you bring peace to the nations if you were banished from the fire nation.

Zuko stood by the edge of the ship, gripping the railing tight. You decided to walk over to him. – “Prince Zuko.” – you said reaching out to touch his shoulder. The moment your hand touched his shoulder, he brushed it off rudely. – “What do you want!” – he shouted at you, startling you. You stared back at him, seeing the bandage on his one eye. You didn’t know what happened, but you could see the pain in his eyes. You reached out, wanting to touch his cheek.

To show him your compassion. Before your hand could touch his cheek, he pushed it forcefully away. – “I’ll burn you!” – he yelled out letting fire blaze out of his hands. It made you stumble back, tripping as you fell down on your bottom. Fearful you looked at him. Zuko tore his gaze away from you, not wanting you to look at him. You got up, running to the other side of the ship. To be as far away as possible from him.

Zuko puffed annoyed when you got positioned beside him. – “Prince Zuko.” – you greeted him with a bow. Zuko only turned his posture more away from you. Iroh cleared his throat loud, ushering his nephew to show his manners. Zuko sighed loud, turning back to you. – “Must I really?” – he questioned. – “Yes!” – Iroh insisted upon. Zuko sighed again as it started to bother you how uncivil he was. This wasn’t something you planned on either.

It wasn’t that you choose to be the fire prince’s bride. It was chosen for you. Only knowing of the arrangement on the day you left your town. Like any good daughter of the chief would do, you simply accepted it. Knowing there was nothing to be done about it. – “It’s not that hard.” – you told Zuko, still waiting for a proper greeting. Zuko groaned loud, setting his hands on fire from frustration.

“Zuko!” – Iroh called out in fury. Zuko took a deep breath, calming down. With a bit of annoyance, he set himself over it. – “Princess…” – he started holding his knuckles against the palm of his other hand to greet you. – “Took you too long.” – you interrupted taking your leave. Zuko blinked confused before he understood he got played. He shouted angry.

“I should throw you in the ocean for disrespect!” – he yelled with a firm point. You kept ignoring him as it upset Zuko more. He moved his leg up, letting a wave of fire go to you. You spun around, moving your hands across. A stream of water scooped up from the ocean dimming his fire before it could reach you. You then bend another stream letting it wash Zuko off his feet.

He got tackled by the water, rolling over the ground, drenched. He coughed loud. He looked surprised at his hands as they had grown ice cold. Captured by ice to the ground. Lifting his head up, he saw you lower your hands, taking off. Zuko was furious. Letting his hands heat up to melt the ice around his hands.

Pissed off, he got up with a loud scream of infuriation. – “Zuko!” – Iroh shouted knowing his nephew wasn’t going to let this pass. Zuko stormed after you, braising on the inside. You wanted to grab the door but pulled your hand away when a blast of fire hit the door first.

Turning around, you saw Zuko panting. – “Is that how you show respect to your prince!” – Zuko shouted. – “It seems MY prince doesn’t respect me so why should I?” – you said tauntingly, emphasizing on the ‘my’. Zuko bald his hands into fists. – “You’ll respect me!” – Zuko said storming over. His movement, made you move back, hitting the door with your back.

“Respect goes both ways!” – you snapped back. – “My prince.” – you added mockingly with a sarcastic smile. Zuko’s gaze seemed to pierce through you. You moved from out of his cornered situation. Zuko exhaled deep, pressing his hand onto the door. Lowering his head as a tiny smile appeared. When he caught himself showing weakness, he clenched his expression once more.

Iroh lifted his head up, hearing the door open gently. Zuko entered once more. – “How…” – he only had to say for Iroh to understand. – “Her fever is coming down. You have your ice water to thank for that.” – he replied dapping your forehead some more. Iroh noticed his nephew lingering awkwardly by the door. – “Do you want to…?” – he offered gesturing at you. Zuko shook his head, taking a step back. – “No…no…” – his voice fading out. – “Zuko…” – Iroh said with sympathy, urging him to come near.

Zuko pressed his lips a bit together, shaking his head. Iroh sighed as Zuko had once again left the room. He watched your state carefully for the next hour till you finally showed him a sign of life. Your chest flinching as you were withholding a cough. The cough came out, followed by some as you felt the pain everywhere in your body. You winched at the pain, reaching for your side. Slowly your eyes opened as the first thing you saw was Iroh.

“Shh shh it is alright Y/n. Try to remain gentle.” – he said reassuring as you were trying to pull your upper chest up by your elbows. You fully came to sit up with his help. – “Where…?” – you asked looking hazily around. – “Our ship.” – Iroh answered. He also knew your next question before you could even form his name on your lips. – “He’s above deck.”

“I... I need to…” – you started wanting to get out of bed, but Iroh stopped you. – “No, you are still too weak Y/n.” – he reminded you. You pulled the blanket a bit back, seeing the bandages around your stomach. You then noticed the water bucket by Iroh. Bending water out of it, it surrounded your hand. You then brought your hand to your stomach. Exhaling satisfying healing your own wound with your bending.

Iroh looked in wonder as it never stopped amazing him. Gasping loud, you let your head fall back in the pillow. A bit worn out from your healing. It took you but a moment to recover. You weren’t going to take no for an answer. Iroh knew he couldn’t keep you bed bound so he helped you up. He assisted you out of the room up to the deck. Weakly you held your side, still feeling the bruises.

Zuko stood with his back towards the door, overlooking the sea. Something caught his attention, making him slightly turn his head. Seeing a glimpse in the corner of his eye, he turned his head more with haste. His eyes widening at the sight of you. You let go of Iroh, stumbling forwards to Zuko. Zuko got in motion, meeting you half-way. You sunk through your knees as Zuko caught you. Keeping you upright.

With shock was he staring at you. Moving his hand to your cheek. Moving some strays of hair aside as his knuckles brushed against your cheek. You smiled weakened. – “My prince.” – you said with love. Zuko let his fingers stretch against your neck, fingers brushing on your skin. Hand on your neck, he pulled you closer, pressing his lips onto yours. Kissing you deeply.

He pulled away; his attention drawn to around him. His men all bowing. You took a step back from Zuko as his hands dropped to the side. You bowed to your prince as well. A sudden movement made you glance up. Eyes widening in wonder seeing Zuko bow to you as well. It made you smile softly. Iroh hastened over, giving you support as you were still recovering. – “What do we do now?” – Iroh asked his nephew. Zuko looked out at the sea before answering. – “We head for the earth kingdom!” – he ordered as his men got to work.

------------------------------------

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#imagine #fanfiction #fanfic #fic #avatar #avatar the last airbender #netflix avatar #avatar live action #prince zuko #prince zuko x you #prince zuko x reader #prince zuko x y/n #prince zuko imagines #prince zuko fic #prince zuko fanfiction #prince zuko fanfic #uncle iroh #the fire nation #fire lord ozai #the northern water tribe #water bender #water bender!reader #zuko x reader #zuko x you #zuko x y/n #zuko x water bender #zuko imagine #zuko fanfic #zuko fic #zuko fanfiction

[empress-simps]

Missed Hints

Pairing: Remus Lupin x Fem! Reader CW: Language Genre: Fluff Summary: Remus Lupin wanted to make his feelings known; he is trying numerous ways to tell you, but you are simply quite oblivious to the poor boy’s advances.

Note: Am I a bit too obsessed with Rems? Probably. This one's a bit shorter than the rest. Enjoy reading! Pictures used are from Pinterest, credits to the owners!

Sometimes, all Remus wanted to do was run into a wall to knock himself out.

Maybe it’ll help formulate a reason why you couldn’t pick up his signals and actions that he wants to be more than friends. Please cut this poor boy some slack; he’s literally done everything he could to hint that he likes you.

The problem is that you are quite oblivious- being as dense as the castle walls in Hogwarts. Although this hasn’t stopped Remus from pursuing you after several pitiful (also quite funny) attempts, if anything, it made him work even harder to let you know he fancies you.

“Y/n, wait up!” Remus calls out to you, leaving his mates, who were whispering words of encouragement and ‘good luck’ to him. Hearing your name made you turn around, a book in your hand, as you smiled at the taller boy. “Remus, hi!” He smiled, walking beside you and settling in at the same pace as you. Suddenly, a friend of yours piped up, “Y/n, we have to go get something in the dorms; stay with Remus, yeah?” before you could even reply, they were rushing to leave. Remus could only blush as your friends shot him a thumbs up before escaping the scene, trying to stop the giggles escaping their mouths.

It was all up to him now.

“Erm, so how were the holidays?” he asked, trying to act casually as he placed his hands in his pockets. The question made you hum, your eyes lit up. "Oh, it was wonderful! We spent the holidays in Canada, lots of snow, I made a snow man and visited some parks.” She nods, holding her book closer to her chest, seemingly lost in thought. “It was also freezing.” Remus hums in agreement. “Is that so? I’m glad you had fun.” He smiles, and you both walk towards the great hall to have dinner.

You looked up at him with a bright smile and said, “Tell me about yours, Rems! I’m sure it was also fun.” Remus blushed, hearing his nickname roll off your tongue so casually. Even after all the years you’ve known each other, simply calling him by his nickname that you specially made for him has an effect that never faded away. “Well, it was just simple, really. I just stayed at James’ and had fun.” He shrugged his shoulders, smiling at you. He could care less about his holiday shenanigans, preferring you just talk his ear off about every little thing you did, he will absorb what you say word by word, like a sponge.

 "Well, James is quite an interesting person.” She hummed in agreement, Remus felt his eyebrow twitch, a small twinge similar to jealousy creeping up into him. What about him? Do you think he’s interesting too? Was Remus someone who could be worthy of your time?

 “Yeah, that bloke was conjuring up some pranks to pull this year.”

You let out a small giggle and oh merlin please take the poor boy to Madame Pomfrey because he thinks his poor heart can’t handle all the feelings he has towards you. Remus Lupin is such a simp.

He clears his throat, trying to muster up some courage as he asks you the million-galleon question. “So, are you free tomorrow? It’s Hogsmeade day.” Remus smiles, thankfully, his clammy hands are kept under his pockets, making his nervousness almost unnoticeable. Your eyes lit up “Oh! I forgot, but yes, I am free tomorrow.” Remus saw his chance and took it. “Great, how about we hang out in Three Broomsticks?”

For Merlin’s sake, please make this turn into Lupin’s favor. He’s done too many ways to confess to your clueless self.

“That would be fantastic! I can bring my friends along, and you can bring James, Sirius, and Peter too!” you clapped your hands excitedly, not noticing how the werewolf visibly deflated as you exclaimed. Right, might as well reject him right now on the spot to end his misery.

He could probably shout “I love you” and stare at you directly- but you’ll just think he’s talking to someone behind you. Remus had also tried to pass you a note containing his feelings for you back then. Grabbing it without much of a thought, you passed it to your friend, thinking he wants you to give it to her, who shakes her head and sighs, looking at Remus.

The rest of the Marauders and your friends think Remus’s plans of confessing to you were a lost cause.

“Our poor Moony…” Peter frowns, as James shakes his head. “At this point, Moony should just kiss her.” Sirius sighed, feeling pity for his friend. “She would probably think it was a friendly kiss.” Peter snorts, trying to control his laughter, James glared at Sirius jokingly before pushing him. “Bugger off Pads, Y/N’s just… super innocent? I guess.” They resumed watching the two from a distance, a look of anticipation evident in their faces.

“I was kind of hoping it’ll be just us?” Remus grins nervously, sitting beside you as you reach the Gryffindor table. You took a bite out of the apple pie from your plate before replying, “Sure, it’ll still be fun. You’re a great company, Rems.” She smiles, before resuming on eating the remaining apple pie slice. Little do you know the simple compliment you made had a tremendous effect on Remus.

“Moony, your smile hasn’t left your face ever since Y/n agreed. Stop it, I’m getting scared.” Sirius states, Remus turns to look, a hint of a small dopey smile on his face. “Hm?”

“Oh merlin, Y/n broke him.” Peter blanches. They were smacked upside their heads lightly by James. “Come on now, don’t rain on his parade. Moon’s just… well- over the moon.” James laughs lightly, Sirius snorts while Peter tries to hide his smile. Remus rolled his eyes playfully, opening his trunk to pick out the clothes he’s going to wear tomorrow. “Whatever, now help me decide what to wear, you sods.”

“Rems! Over here!” You exclaimed, standing on your tiptoes, arms up and waving in his directions. Remus smiles, maneuvering through the line of students waiting to get out of Hogwarts and to Hogsmeade. “Y/n! you look… pretty.” He blushes, drinking in the sight of you. Remus could swear on his life that he saw a light shade of pink dust your cheek as you tucked a stray hair behind your ear.

“Thank you, I like your sweater. It suits you.” You said, eyes going over his body and one of Remus’s signature sweaters. You can’t deny it; you like what you see, you were pulled from your thoughts when someone spoke.

“Oi! Get a move on you half-blood and goody-two-shoes! Holding up the bloody line is what you’re doing!” Evan Rosier, a Slytherin student complained a few feet away from you and Remus, Mulciber and Dolohov backs their fellow Slytherin and friend up. He snarls, those blokes, looks like they’ll have a new target for one of their nasty pranks.

“If I were you, I would shut my mouth.” Remus warns, standing in front of you, blocking your frame from their view.

Evan raised one eyebrow, amusement swimming in his eyes. “What are you going to do? Pesky little Gryffindor like you are always running around trying to be brave.” He taunts, moving closer to their direction.

“Rems, I’m fine. Let’s go, yeah?” She gently tugs the sleeve of his sweater, he looks down at you, his expression softening. “Alright then.” He threw one last warning look at Rosier over his shoulder; that punk needs to just wait and see what’s going to come and bite his ass.

The two of you are sitting in the Three Broomsticks, talking about basically anything under the sun. Well, you mostly talked while Remus just listens, humming and sometimes sharing his two cents on the topic you are on.

“Rems, thank you.”

Remus’ eyebrows shot up in confusion, “Thank you? What for?”

“Earlier, Evan Rosier.”

“Ah, that prick. It was nothing, y/n.” He offers a gentle smile; he wants to touch your hand that was directly across his from the table but ultimately deciding against it, the last thing he wants to do is make you feel uncomfortable.

“Thank you for being my friend. You’re an amazing person who deserves the world.” She smiles, slowly taking his hand onto hers and squeezing it tightly.

He felt a crack in his heart. “Yeah, you are too.” He managed to choke out, offering a wry smile.

Friends. Is that it? Is he just one of the many friends you have in your life? Is he a friend that will slowly drift away after you graduate from Hogwarts? Merlin, he would even count himself lucky if you invited him to be at your wedding, and if he wants to push his luck then he might even be the godfather to one of your future kids.

You furrowed your brows, “Is there something wrong, Rems?” He looks at you, quickly shaking his head. “Nothing’s wrong. Why do you ask?” You hummed, “Well, you have this kind of haunted look on you when you’re bothered about something; you’re doing it right now.”

Remus blinks, even he himself wasn’t aware of that. He closed his eyes and sighed; fuck it. He’ll push his luck to the extremes by confessing his love for you. Doesn’t matter if you see him as just a friend, you deserve to know.

“Y/n, I have to tell you something.”

“Of course. What would that be?”

“Well, I don’t know how to tell you this without being upfront about it…” He starts, you urged him to continue; well, here goes nothing.

“Y/n, I-“

“Two butterbeers, correct?”

Remus wants to pull his hair out of frustration as the server walked towards them and set down the butterbeers they ordered, interrupting his speech. You smiled, thanking them before turning to Remus, who was frowning.

“What was it you were trying to say, Rems?” You asked, sipping your butterbeer.

“I like you, a lot. Ever since we met.” He simply blurts out quickly, as if he’s scared someone is going to interrupt again. You blink slowly, setting your butterbeer down gently.

“I like you too, Remus.”

“No- you don’t understand,” He shakes his head as you furrowed your eyebrows, utterly confused.

“I fancy you, love.” He emphasizes, taking both of your hands into his large ones, looking at you straight in the eyes, completely serious. She widens her eyes ever so slightly, her heart rate speeding up a bit.

“Why didn’t you tell me? I’ve always fancied you too, Rems.”

Remus felt as if the time slowed down, his heartbeat pulsing faster, eyes blinking owlishly, his jaw slack in shock.

Did he hear that right? Please tell him that he heard that right.

“I-I… I gave you hints, love!” He sputtered, “But you’ve just ignored them every single time!” She frowns, “I didn’t notice…” Remus agreed, “Forgive me, but you were quite oblivious.” A small smile was on his face.

“You could’ve just said outright that you fancy me, Rems.” She chuckles, a faint blush on her cheeks.

“If you like me too, then why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want to force you.” She said, looking at the beverage in her hand. His eyes softened, “Force me? To what, love?”

She sighs, looking up at him. “I didn’t want you to force yourself to try to love me just because I feel that way for you.”  Before Remus could even speak, she opened her mouth again, “I know you, Remus. You would’ve tried either way, that’s just who you are.” She chuckles, sipping butterbeer before continuing.

“You have a heart of gold, Rems. That’s one of the things I love about you.” She rubs her thumb across his scarred knuckles gently. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, the simple and gentle touch made his spine shiver.

If this was some kind of dream, then he would be more than happy to not wake up.

“Can I kiss you?” He breathes out, making you giggle. You stood up from your seat and leaned towards him, you can feel and smell his peppermint toothpaste fanning against your lips, beckoning you closer.

“You don’t even have to ask.” You closed the distance between you and sealed both of your lips with a kiss.

#remus x reader #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin x reader #marauders fanfiction #moony x reader #moony #marauders #james potter #sirius black #marauders fic #harry potter #moony wormtail padfoot and prongs #the marauders era

[pyjamacryptid]

I’m not sure how I got here but I’ve been thinking about the intimacy and devotion of washing another’s hair, the hair of someone you care for (how unconditional a gesture it is) and I then thought of Merlin doing it for Arthur.

It’s not in the job description (a lot of what Merlin does for Arthur is not in the job description) and it’s unlikely something that started his first day as Arthur’s servant. Nor the second or the 20th or by the 6th month. Arthur may be a prince, a prattish one at that, but when it comes to his baths he only expects of Merlin what he expects of any manservant - call for the tub, draw the water, lay out a towel, place fresh clothes close by and so on. But, naturally, he’s also a prince that commands the knights and with training comes injuries. Perhaps an arm was dislocated and he’s on strict orders from Gaius not to utilise it, and definitely not to reach above his head. Later that same day Arthur sits in the bath and realises too late he can’t tend to his own hair. But he doesn’t call Merlin over from where he’s making the bed. He tries to do it himself. He’s still got one working arm, after all.

Arthur only knows how to command things be done. He doesn’t know how to ask for things. He doesn’t yet know that asking isn’t weakness.

But he can’t hide his struggling from Merlin, who’s more mother hen than manservant.

“Here, let me,” he says, suddenly behind Arthur, “before you lose all the bathwater and your arm, both.”

“I don’t need your help, Merlin.”

“Of course not, sire. Now, pass me the hair oil.”

“Excuse me, who is it that gives the orders here?”

“You, sire. The hair oil.”

“…”

“Thank you. Right, hold still. I said hold still—“

After, Arthur will wonder why he ever thought Merlin would be anything but gentle. After, Arthur will wonder when his eyes closed and why they feel a little wet, especially as Merlin took great care to catch anything before it fell in Arthur’s face.

Over time, a stool begins to sit beside the bath, whenever it’s drawn. Over time, Arthur will notice Merlin’s fingers never grow any less gentle (even when he knows his manservant is angry with him). Over time, Arthur will want to ask why Merlin added washing his hair to his list of jobs indefinitely, long after his arm healed, but is afraid he’ll only prompt Merlin to stop because it’s not a job at all. Over time, Arthur will wonder what oils Merlin uses on his own hair, if he has access to hair oil at all, and how his cropped hair might feel to touch.

#is this a ficlet #idk how I got here #or where this came from #listen the devotion of washing hair got to me alright #merthur #bbc merlin #merlin #merlin x arthur #merlin emrys #arthur pendragon #Merthur fic #ficlet #fanfic #merlin ficlet #merthur headcanon #ren writes #IDK WHAT THIS IS JUST TAKE IT (yeets this at the Merthur fandom and skedaddles)

[variousqueerthings]

okay I watched good omens s2 yesterday with my partner, and I was genuinely very surprised -- I think if you've grown up through superwholock/merlin/the 100/teen wolf type shows where (with the exception periodically of doctor who) you kind of had to make up the good show that something could have been in your head, that colours a lot of your viewing, and to be honest I thought season 1 of good omens was a fine little piece, honoured the book while modernising it somewhat, it was a nice, fun, low stakes time, with a couple of things I might have wanted a tad different but nothing overall awful.

so I was seeing all this meta and gifsets and discussion, while I was waiting to give s2 a watch with my partner and thought "ah, people have made up the good show in their heads again" not that I assumed s2 was going to be a bad show, but that people were taking extra deep plunges into possibilities, the way fandom does, and that was fine. I knew there was a big ol kiss, I had a sense of some kind of argument at the end, and that it was setting up a s3

I also knew that mainstream reviews were calling it (politely) self-indulgent and dependent on whether or not you enjoy david tennant and michael sheen having a good time for just under 6 hours

all in all, expectations of a somewhat mainstream show without too much to think about, a nice, fun low stakes time, moving on...

(EDIT: AND THEN I WROTE A LOT OF WORDS SO YOU CAN IMAGINE THAT MY REACTION WAS QUITE DIFFERENT)

as it turns out it seems these things that were being written on tumblr were discussing the actual text of the show and not things you could extrapolate if you squinted and tilted your head a little to the left as I'm so used to doing, so in fact there is much to think about!

and my first thought was "this is like when you read early discworld books that ask a question like a joke, only to find that over time the answer to that question becomes very serious (and also can be funny at times of course)." how terry pratchett would pick and pick at tropes and notions and social ideas and go "oh now hold on, this seems strange..." starting way back when he thought it was odd that women warriors always seemed to be dressed in metal bikinis and then realising he hadn't done a good enough job of subverting the trope, simply by depicting it and calling it a bit silly

why do goblins always get treated as the villains? what's with this divine succession of kings business? where are the female dwarfs? who do we treat as disposable?

good omens season one went: "haha what if heaven and hell were intensely incapable, bureaucratic, corrupt, and uncaring of the work they did, and we took an angel and a demon and had them actually care? wouldn't that be... a bit silly?" (and it was)

good omens season two went: "what are the consequences for caring when the people who have power over you are incapable, bureaucratic, corrupt, and uncaring? what are the forces that supersede systems built on fear, ignorance, and violent conformity? can people change and break out of/challenge/break down these structures by caring?"

and this was set up with a neat little sleight of hand (to reference aziraphale's switch-and-bait in the episode with the nazi zombies), because the majority of season 2 does feel a bit indulgent: hey, remember those two wacky angel-and-demon characters? watch some more wacky things they did through the ages, watch them take a sojourn through 1827 Edinburgh and do a magic show during the Blitz, and... stop the death of Job's and Sitis' children (actually maybe that whole segment ought to have been what they call "A Clue")

see them try to figure out a kooky mystery, all the while setting up a cute little same-gender romance on their street. watch as everything points towards a happy ending that's all about the two of them realising what they've been to one another all these thousands and thousands (and thousands and thousands) of years- but hold on. lest we forget - and the show has made this point over and over - there are powerful people who control them, who hurt them, and who plan on hurting others, throughout the whole season, and as it turns out they know what they've been to one another for far far longer, and know how to pull their strings...

season 2 then, has to show us these things, not because they're indulgent (well, maybe occasionally, but the apology dance is still important), but because in order to make the ending a tragedy, we first need to understand, properly, the impact that they have had on each other. we need to understand that Aziraphale relied heavily on Crowley to be his moral compass and leaned on black-and-white thinking in order to deal with things, because if it's all grey then where does he fit and what has it all meant and heaven has to be the good guys, even as Job's and Sitis' children are ordered to be killed, it's all he ever had...

and Crowley was always an anchor, needed to trust that Aziraphale was different, needed to bend to every whim that Aziraphale has, because otherwise what's his worth in all this? After having been already deemed worthless by the heaven that Aziraphale needs to believe in?

and that, simplistically described, is the narrative that we're seeing in s2, and alongside that the ways that the changes they have upon each other are noticed, and monitored, and placed under suspicion, and finally... broken up, not by the clumsy, brute force that's been attempted over and over again, but by a promise to return into a violent, controlling system and to "make it better from within"

and all of this is wrapped up in two queer relationships + a third queered-within-the-text relationship that creates the inverse of how it ends for Aziraphale and Crowley (so far). queer love -- whatever shape that has -- is explicitly the shape of non-conformity within this narrative, including within the symbolism of angel-and-demon love of Gabriel and Beelzebub, which in the context of the systems created is considered queer (and one can argue till the cats come home about casting cis actors, about angel-and-demon notions of gender/romance/sexuality, but the "queerness" comes from building something non-conforming to the systems they exist in), and enforced by the explicitly our-world-definition-of queer romance that Nina and Maggie have going on (which, while less high stakes, still contains the background controlling relationship that Nina initially is in)

all of this to say, that I disagree that s2 meanders, or that plotlines happen for the sake of showcasing Aziraphale and Crowley without purpose, or that characters get sidelined (I'd say it sets up a whole host of interesting characters to further get into actually), or that it's strictly mainstream easy-access narrative that's just an excuse for the main creators and actors to get back together.

the love is the point, and this show takes its time to show the love (and the unequal boundary-setting, and the fact that one of them has an undiscussed tragic backstory, and the desperation to belong again, and the fear instilled by oppressive systems, and and and), so that we understand why those last 15 minutes happen the way that they do

it's sleight of hand, and like all good magic, you don't notice until it's happened

#good omens #go2 #good omens season 2 #neil gaiman #david tennant #michael sheen

[whydon-twego]

Merlin is so tired.

Physically and mentally tired.

Arthur, being in a bad mood, has been running him around more than usual, giving him tasks that generally wouldn't even be his. Gaius has requested herbs for a strange cold that keeps spreading through the citadel and leaving everyone tired and helpless for several days (and, in his defense, Gaius would have fetched them himself were it not for the fact that the herbs grow in a land with terrain too bumpy for Gaius' not-so-young legs) and he has stayed awake for more than forty-eight hours straight to eradicate a dark spirit roaming the castle.

All this is to say that Merlin is really tired.

But when has that ever stopped Arthur from demanding and demanding and demanding?

And so it is with trembling legs and eyes that want to close of their own accord that Merlin serves Arthur a drink while Arthur dines in his own room because he has better things to do than dine with his father and Morgana.

"You are unusually quiet this evening, Merlin."

Merlin nods because that's all he can do, even talking seems a gigantic effort.

Perhaps if he closes his eyes for a few moments he will be able to recover.

"Merlin, are you listening?"

Only for a few seconds, he is standing anyway, nothing can happen.

"Merlin!"

+++

Merlin has never felt so warm and so comfortable in all his life.

He does not know how he got into bed or how his bed is suddenly so comfortable (nor how it is so warm in his room as it is freezing on those winter days) but he is too comfortable to ask himself any more questions and feels so protected, so safe. Everything is fine.

"You are a bad bedfellow, Merlin, you really do get too worked up."

Merlin would like to say that the sound of Arthur's voice surprises him so much that it wakes him up, but the truth is that Arthur's voice only makes him feel safer, almost more protected, as if the fact that Arthur is there only makes things better.

Merlin sighs blissfully and mumbles an apology as he stretches out an arm and goes to get more comfortable with his head on Arthur's chest (because Arthur is letting him and Merlin is really too tired to think) and Arthur's arm around his waist.

"I don't know what the hell you've been up to lately but know that this is no way to reduce yourself. I will give you the morning off tomorrow but only because I am a magnanimous prince and you should be grateful to me for the rest of your life, do you understand me, Merlin?"



Merlin nods and his cheek rubs against Arthur's chest, his chest hair tickling.

Merlin lifts his face with closed eyes and snaps a kiss on Arthur's cheek (or whatever part of Arthur he can reach, he's not sure if he's got the cheek) and mumbles some kind of thanks.

And if Merlin were more awake he would realise what he has just done.

But Merlin is tired.

And Arthur is a benevolent prince.

Arthur kisses Merlin's forehead and bids him sleep.

Merlin doesn't let him say it twice.

#merthur #merthur canon era #merthur prompt #merthur fic #merlin bbc #bbc merlin #merlin fic #merlin prompt #arthur pendragon #merlin emrys #prince arthur pendragon #merthur fanfic #merlin #my writing

[hopelessromantic5]

Merlin had been working for Arthur Pendragon for a year when something unusually strange happened.

This wasn’t “life-or-death-vengeful-magical-creature” strange. That happens every day.

No this oddity didn’t even involve Arthur.

The pompous prick had just left in storm of rage because Merlin was once again gone for days at a time and couldn’t give him a good enough answer as to where. Arthur knew Merlin was lying to him, and it was only a matter of time before the truth came to light, and Merlin’s life would be over.

He was still in Arthur’s chambers, in complete darkness. Body folded into a corner, with his arms wrapped around his knees that were being cradled by his chest.

He was sobbing.

Because life was so fucking unfair and he’s allowed to have a pity-party every once in a while. Merlin would say he’s entitled.

His sobs broke off into silence when a single candle lit itself, barely illuminating the room.

Merlin’s head popped up, wide eyed.

There was no one else. Just him.

And that had not been his magic.

Merlin was on his feet and ready for whatever was being hurled their way, this time.

They appeared, out of thin air.

Or she did.

A woman. With blonde hair cascading over over her thin shoulders. A deep green gown, that was beautiful but not embellished or bejeweled. And her eyes were like lakes, blue and too deep to see to the bottom.

Merlin’s breath was snatched from his throat as they stared at each other.

“Do not be afraid. I am not here to harm you.” She said, her voice was soft and melodic, the way Merlin imagined goddesses would speak.

“Who are you?” He whispered, before correcting. “What are you?”

“You can sense that I am not human?”

Merlin nodded, then narrowed his eyes, trying to put it together, but not quite having all the pieces.

“Every living thing gives off a vibration of sorts…a frequency… you give off nothing. As if you’re-“

“A ghost.” She smiled small but it held a secret joke that Merlin didn’t understand.

“You’re a ghost?” He questioned, further confused. “How are you here? It’s not anywhere near Samhain.”

Then the blonde woman’s eyes turned sad. And she turned to the window looking out at the lightless sky.

“There are some special cases.” She murmured. Then snapped her eyes back to him.

“But that is not why I’m here.”

Merlin’s eyebrows went up in expectation.

The woman’s expression turned to something that Merlin had only ever seen from his mother and Gaius. A sort of pity that’s shrouded in love.

She advanced on him and then settled her hands on his shoulders. Upon closer inspection, he could see the way she wasn’t completely opaque, but he felt her hands as if they were solid, flesh and bone.

“I know who you are, Emrys.”

Merlin practically hissed at the name and began to back away towards the door of the chambers.

“What are you planning to do about it? Tell the king?” Merlin was panicked now. If Uther knew then there would be no chance of saving himself. Or of saving Arthur.

“Calm yourself, dear. That is the last place I would be headed even if I did plan to tell someone.”

Merlin stopped, whispering, consciously aware of the guards that will patrol this corridor at some point soon.

“So why are you here?”

“Because, Merlin, I want to thank you. I want you to know that all that you’ve suffered, all that you’ve sacrificed, has not been in vain.”

What? How could she possibly know…

“I have been here some time, Merlin. Unseen but always watching.” She smiled again. “This was the deal I made. I gladly gave my life if they agreed to let me watch him grow.”

Time froze.

And suddenly everything clicked into place for Merlin.

He audibly gasped.

“You…” he started shaking his head as if it were a hallucination brought by bad wine or mysterious herbs. “You’re her.”

He stared back into those eyes.

Those eyes he’d come to know on a different human. Eyes he’d come to love.

“Yes. I am. And I have been here with him, watching him struggle and learn. Make mistakes.”

She clutched him again by the shoulders.

“Merlin, I want to thank you for taking care of my son.”

He was shaking his head and stuttering incoherently, almost silently, trying to find words to express everything he feels every day.

“You-I-your son is…a great man. And he’s going to be a good King. A kind, just, King.”

She smirked again at him, probably knowing more than he did about everything.

And then her smile turned soft as she replied.

“The Once and Future King.”

Merlin nodded, feeling a little giddy himself at the idea. Arthur sitting atop the throne of Albion and ruling his people in an age of peace, until he turns old and grey. Trusting the next generation to take the reins.

Merlin chuckled a little.

“The gods couldn’t have picked anyone better suited.”

“He will need you, Merlin. Especially in what’s to come. But this is nothing you are not already aware of.” She had a very soft smile, genuine, not one harsh line on her whole face. “I’ve also appeared to you now to say, I think you should be truthful with him.” Merlin’s instincts almost caused him to recoil from her again, but he stilled his body, as she continued. “I see him when you are not here, when he is alone, when he’s with his father. The way that he communicates his feelings are hurtful and he has no clue how to work through them. I am sorry that Uther raised him that way.” Merlin watched transparent tears slide down her pale face. “But you help him. He’s getting better with himself, with others. You are the light in his life, he wants to do better because of you, the way you see him.”

Merlin was crying too. He couldn’t help it.

He didn’t think anyone ever knew what really went on inside this blasted castle, but someone was here, watching him fail and try and try again and succeed sometimes, and keep Arthur and Camelot safe and happy. Someone has been rooting for him the entire time, he was never really alone.

“Hold on. Would he be able to see you?” Merlin whispered cautiously. “Do you want him to?”

“I’m afraid that it’s a little more complicated for people without magic. I was able to appear before you now, because your guard was down while you were crying. Your mental and emotional barriers were lowered and I was allowed to reveal myself. For Arthur and I to talk, I would need a lot of magic and a lot of trust.” She reminded him so much of Arthur in the way she hid her melancholy behind a dazzling smile.

“But that is not the reason I think you should tell him. He might be frustrated at first, but he will be far less angry than he was moments ago. He trusts you and he knows there is something you are not telling him. I think you would both benefit from a little honesty, him just as much as you.” She smirked at the last comment.

Merlin cannot believe that he just got talked into revealing his magic by the Queen of Camelot.

This day is so strange.

Wait-

“What does that mean? What is it that Arthur is keeping from me?” He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion and thought. He knew almost everything about the man. He could probably paint him blindfolded at this point, with every buckle and button in perfect place. He knew his sense of humor, his daily schedule by heart, he knew everything Arthur thought about everyone, and Arthur knew the same of him…almost.

Except for that one-okay, maybe two things.

Maybe Arthur had an exception also.

“You will have to be vulnerable in order to find the answer to your question.” It almost sounds like a riddle of Kilgarah’s but the Queen’s made a lot more sense to him than the Great Dragon’s usually did.

“When he returns, avoid cornering him in the room. He does not do well with-“ the lady cut herself off for the first time, somehow even ghosts were conflicted in their thoughts. Her face hardened, “Uther used tactics like this to intimidate Arthur when he was a boy being scolded. For absolutely nothing at all. For doing things that boys should be doing!” Her voice reached its loudest volume and she stumbled farther away from him, wide-eyed.

“I am so sorry, Merlin. I have not spoken to anyone in so long. I didn’t not mean to get angry.” Tears welled in her blue, blue eyes.

Merlin could not stand it.

“There is nothing to apologize for. You have every right to be angry. I am angry. Sometimes with destiny, or dragons, or evil unknown forces lurking in the dark. But always at Uther. For treating Arthur that way, like an animal raised for slaughter. And for never realizing how much it scarred him. And for never changing, or apologizing. Never once. He is not even human anymore.”

They stood there, locked into each other, sharing in their grief, in their pain for this boy that they love more than life.

And then they heard footsteps, both parties equally startled for different reasons.

“Good luck, Merlin.” Igraine was smiling softly again, as if it had never left, maybe that is what Arthur does for her. What he does for them both. Bring the color and joy back into the world like a breath of clean air. “You will do well.” She nodded, before starting to disappear, back into the invisible ether of the castle.

Then the door swung open to reveal Arthur, looking almost apologetic, but also scanning the room before landing his eyes back on Merlin.

“Who are you talking to?”

“No one. Myself.” Another lie. Shit.

This isn’t going well and he’s three words into it.

The prince opened his mouth as if to retort but Merlin stopped him confidently proclaiming,

“Arthur, I need to tell you something.” It was as though Merlin could feel a weight physically lifting off his shoulders as soon as the words left his mouth. “Quite a few things actually. I have not been honest with you. But I don’t want to keep secrets anymore.”

Arthur stood momentarily speechless, surprised at Merlin’s change of heart.

TBC…

#merthur #merlin #merlin and arthur #arthur pendragon #prince arthur #igraine #merthur fic #from the drafts #if I continue it would only be a second part

[that-nerd-who-writes-fanfiction]

Do you ever think about medieval medicine in a modern context?

Or the opposite, modern medicine in a medieval context?

Not particularly important, just because I know nothing about medieval medicine other than a few things about modern herbalism that I can’t be arsed to verify the historical accuracy of for fanfiction.

Anyway.

Merlin showing up to work high on painkillers and Arthur having no idea what to do with him would be hilarious. He still tries to work but his depth perception is all off and he’s got next to no coordination.

I can imagine Arthur fondly calling Merlin an idiot while trying to get him to sit down and Merlin bursting into tears because Arthur thinks he’s an idiot.

Arthur: oh no, don’t cry, um. Shit. Gaius! There there, it’s okay… *patting Merlin’s head awkwardly*

Merlin, wailing: you hate me!

Arthur: what? Of course I don’t hate you.

Merlin, crying harder: you do! you called me an idiot

Arthur: oh, Merlin, I never mean that. *relaxes and starts actually being comforting by running hands through Merlin’s hair* it’s like when you call me a prat, I don’t mean it.

Merlin: but it’s “indeery” “ending” *frowning at his inability to say endearing* But it’s nice when you’re a prat!

Arthur: and you’re a very endearing idiot too. Now sit down and let Gaius make sure you didn’t hurt yourself.

Merlin, sniffling: you don’t hate me?

Arthur: never. You might be an idiot but you’re my idiot.

Merlin then bursts into tears all over again, wailing about how Arthur is his best friend and how he’s gonna be an amazing king.

Or an accidental magic reveal where Arthur is trying to stop Merlin from doing too much, and Merlin just complains that he can do it.

Merlin: stupid.

Arthur: taking care of your health is not stupid, Merlin.

Merlin: the laws are. I can do it!

Arthur, not actually believing him: uh-huh. Okay.

Merlin: fine. I’ll prove it. *uses magic to clean Arthur’s entire chambers in thirty seconds flat.”

Arthur: um…

Merlin: but magic is outlawed so you’re stuck with a messy chambers because I don’t want to burn.

Arthur: you- I- what?

Then Merlin realises what happened and starts sobbing uncontrollably because he’s afraid of getting burned.

Arthur, panicking and unable to ‘emotion’: no, nono, don’t cry, it’s just- you’re not going to burn, you’re safe, please stop crying.

Merlin: but I’m a warlock and you hate magic!

Arthur: no, well- it’s… complicated…

Merlin, wailing: I don’t wanna burn, please just chop my head off.

Arthur: no one is chopping any heads off! No one is burning! You’re not evil! You’re too good to be evil! I’ve got questions but you’re not a bad person! You’ve done nothing wrong, so please just stop crying.

Merlin: you think I’m good? *sobs and grabs Arthur into a hug*

Arthur: worst manservant I’ve ever had. Best person though. *hesitantly hugs Merlin back and tries awkwardly comforting him* there there, it’s okay, um…

#bbc merlin #merlin #merlin emrys #arthur pendragon #merthur #incorrect merlin quotes #i’m bad at tagging #fic ideas #headcanon #merlin bbc

[tomriddleslove]

The devil can be beautiful.

✩Mattheo Riddle x F!Reader (Part 1)

SLOWBURN SERIES

Summary: The one where you have it all planned. There’s not a single thing you haven’t sorted, you’re practically untouchable in how perfect you are. He wants to destroy you, and he always gets what he wants. Alternatively: A bet is placed on whether Mattheo can ruin you. It’s not as easy as he thinks.

A/N: Imo a bit more accurate Mattheo here? He’s fucking toxic and they’re all horrible. This is a series!

Nietzche famously rejected connotations of ‘right’ and ‘wrong’. They were nought but social constructs - ways to enforce power and authority under arbitrary values. Rather, he believed ‘good’ was relative, as was ‘bad’. If an action or doing promoted life, or power, then it was ‘good’. If an action promoted weakness, and conformity, then it was ‘bad’.

You weren’t religious, but you prayed to the heavens above that Nietzche was right because fuck.

Wrong has never felt so right.

‘Pl- plea-” You gasp, a breathless moan escaping your lips as you tilt your head back. His lips attach to the tender skin of your neck, nipping and biting at the delicate skin with no regard. He was ravenous, and you tasted like ambrosia, something too sweet for him. You had never felt so alive, feeling as though you were numb yet also like every nerve end was on fire.

Ravenous lips meet pure, untouched flesh. Iconoclastic in nature, the idea of corrupting such a sweet thing was enough to send the boy into a haze.

What was the saying? A wolf in sheep's clothing? Someone who seemed so unlikely, so deceptive. You couldn’t even fall back on that as an excuse. No, Mattheo Riddle was the devil himself, presenting himself to you with red horns and a fucking pitchfork in his hand and you stupidly let him sink his fangs into you.

He was beyond tainting you, no.

Mattheo Riddle was destroying you, and you could only let him.

- • -

Proper and prim.

If you had asked anyone to describe you in two words, you were sure those were the ones they would choose.

Proper and prim.

You were near perfect. Hell, if perfection existed you would be the image of it. From your neatly ironed robe to your polished shoes. Not a single thing was out of place. You embodied routine, and order.

Hair brushed back into a simple plait. School uniform modest, your tie neatly tucked underneath your grey school jumper. You had not produced a single piece of work that scored below 100%, from apparition to flying, you simply never did bad.

“Merlin, it must be depressing,” Theodore murmurs as he watches you walk through the Slytherin common room, up to the girls' dorms.

“Who?” Blaise quips as Pansy rolls her eyes, the distaste evident in her voice as she speaks.

“Who else but her? Miss Prissy Goody-Two shoes.” Pansy drawls, redirecting the group's attention to your retreating form.

Theodore reaches into his pocket, rolling a cigarette between two fingers as he speaks.“Did you know she scored 100% on all her OWLS?”

“Of fuking course she did. All she does is bury her nose in books. No wonder she’s always alone.” Draco mocks and Lorenzo snorts.

“She’s a bit of a weirdo” Lorenzo comments and Theodore barges in, a sleazy grin on his face as he raises a brow.

“You know what they say about the quiet ones right? Always the freakiest.”

Pansy dissolves into laughter, clutching her stomach as she speaks through giggles.

“Her? She’s an absolute prude! You should have seen her when she had to work with Pucey during potions. She couldn't even look in his direction. It's pathetic if you ask me.” She taunts.

Mattheo stares off into the fireplace, legs spread lazily as he reclines back onto the sofa. He had no interest in this conversation, really. Not for the reasons one would think, though. It’s not that he secretly cared for you or something, no it was far from that. He agreed that you were rather weird, too perfect and normal to be likeable. Rather he didn't have the energy to engage in such trivial matters.

“You should go ask her out on a date or something Theo. Don’t you like the nerdy girls?” Lorenzo teases as Theodore scoffs, propping his feet up on the table in front of him.

“Absolutely not, She’ll probably perform some kind of fucking blood curse on me.” He mutters as Draco raises a brow.

“How about this? If you manage to fuck her, I’ll give you 100 Galleons.” He proposes. Lorenzo nearly spits out his water as Pansy shakes her head.

Mattheo snaps out of his daze, looking up at Draco with mild curiosity.

“100 Galleons? Are you fucking insane?” Lorenzo blurts, looking at the platinum-haired boy in disbelief.

“Oh come on. It's a guaranteed win for Draco. It’s near impossible for anyone to do that.” Pansy adds.

“I’ll do it.”

It's his first contribution to the conversation and they all turn to look at him. Theodore raises a brow, an unlit cigarette dangling from his lips as Pansy leans forward.

“Oh? And what makes you think you can?” She taunts.

“Look at her. Teacher’s pet, an absolute loner. Always reading. It’s so predictable. She probably has wet dreams about some bad boy coming to sweep her off her feet. It’s almost too easy.” He says, cracking his neck with a small groan as he sits up.

He could really do with the money. 100 Galleons could buy him at least 3 weeks in the shabby little inn he frequented over the school holidays.

Draco eyed him curiously, before extending his slim pale hand out.

“Agreed. 100 galleons if you manage to fuck her within a month.” Draco repeats, and Mattheo takes the offer.

His calloused palms meet Draco’s, and he shakes on it with a resolute nod, before leaning back in his chair.

1 month? What a joke. He only needed 2 weeks.

-•-

It had been two days after that conversation and Mattheo had been observing you closely, waiting for the right opportunity to crop up. In the meantime, he dissects everything about you. Theodore was right, you were so undeniably boring and monotonous Mattheo had to pause and wonder if you were a sadist of sorts, finding pleasure in such mind-numbing perfection.

It was the same damned thing every single day. You would turn up for breakfast at 8:00, and fix yourself a plate of porridge topped with a handful of blueberries. You’d eat as you read the newspaper, and finish by 8:15. You’d rise, put your bowl away, and head to your first class. You ate lunch during the first half, the same sandwich and apple every day. After lessons, you’d go up to the library. You’d take the furthest seat on the second floor, between the muggle studies and world history books. You would revise for 3 hours, close your books, and head back up to your dorm. You would then re-emerge no longer than 20 minutes later (still dressed in your school uniform) and head down to dinner. You always ate whatever was offered, had a single mug of peppermint tea, and then headed back up to your dorm before it was even 10.

Every. Single. Day.

Mattheo could not comprehend how on earth someone could live like that. Surely you had to be some sort of psychopath, right? There was no way you could find peace and comfort in such a routine. Sure, Mattheo certainly did not feel content, but he’s as sure as the sky is blue that he’d go insane if he lived like you.

Maybe you had some sort of secret? Perhaps you escaped the castle grounds at night to smoke or do some hardcore drugs. Maybe you were some sort of recluse who believed they were some sort of divine being. Your meticulously structured routine, your unwavering discipline—it all seemed too calculated, too perfect. There had to be something lurking beneath the surface, something that explained your seemingly robotic adherence to the same monotonous pattern day after day.

The countless possibilities run through Mattheos mind as he rests his chin on his hand, zoned out as he sits at the back of the astronomy class. Professor Sinastra drones on about Lunar phases and their implications on a wizard’s abilities. Mattheo gazes off at you, who (as per usual) sits right at the front of the class. Your posture is impeccably straight, and you jot down every word Sinastra speaks as though she’s teaching the class how to become a millionaire instantly.

“... And for that reason, I would like two volunteers to come work alongside myself on a month-long project locating rogue planets in the atmosphere. Not only will this be an exciting and unique opportunity, it’ll also put you in incredibly good standing for your upcoming NEWT exams, which may I remind you are in only a few months. The study will largely commence in the evenings, however, there will be a few instances where you will be required to complete monitoring throughout the whole day. You will be excused from lessons on those days, rest assured.” She says.

Mattheo straightens up in his chair as he sees your hand shoot up almost immediately. In any other instance, your enthusiasm would be infuriating at the very least, earning you a snarky remark. But now? Well, it was clear the universe was giving him a sign.

Taking advantage of everyone else's hesitancy, Mattheo raises his hand. A few murmurs ripple through the class, and Professor Sinastra cannot hide her surprise as she nods at Mattheo.

“I must say, I am glad to see you volunteering Mr Riddle.” She says, and Mattheo nods.

He can’t make it too obvious, though. He usually wouldn't be caught dead volunteering for such a thing.

“Getting to skip classes and being permitted to roam around at night? No brainer.” He says, not so subtly to Blaise. Granted, Blaise knows Mattheo’s true intentions, but the statement seems to satisfy the rest of their class, who turn back to their work whilst muttering about how it was a rather good offer.

Mattheo looks over to you, only to find you turned around in your seat, observing him for a second. Your eyes squint, an almost imperceptible change, before you quickly avert your gaze and turn back around.

“You might actually have this one.” Blaise murmurs, leaning closer to Mattheo. He can’t help but smile, an almost arrogant smirk, as he nods.

Looking at the way you diligently return to your work, Mattheo’s indifference suddenly morphs into determination.

This was too easy.

-•-

Mattheo saunters up the stairs to the astronomy tower, the faint moonlight just barely illuminating the path in front of him. As he pushes open the door to the tower, he sees you perched by the telescope. You're still in your school uniform, looking pristine as you sit on the floor, scribbling notes down in your book. You look up at the intrusion, clearing your throat when you see Mattheo. In the dim moonlight, Mattheo can see your face turn slightly red as you swiftly avert your gaze down to the floor.

“Riddle.” You greet, quietly. He hums in acknowledgement, setting his bag down to the side as he slumps against the wall, leaning back.

“Professor um- Professor Sinastra has asked us to just observe the sky and try to make predictions for when we can sight a rogue planet. I’m mapping the movement of the planets but she said you should try to calculate angles of visibility.” You murmur, voice quiet and hesitant.

Mattheo raises an eyebrow, feigning disinterest as he looks over at you. "Angles of visibility, huh?" he muses, pushing himself off the wall and saunters over to where you're seated. "Sounds like a job for someone with a keen eye for detail."

You glance up at him, your expression guarded as you nod in agreement. "Yes, exactly. It's crucial to accurately calculate the angles to ensure our observations are precise."

He laughs, but it's not genuine. No, rather it's almost mocking.

“What makes you think I’m doing any of that, hmm? This is just an excuse for me to skip classes. How this is actually going to work, is that you’re going to do all the work, and let me slap my name on the parts I was meant to do, yeah?” he says, his tone oozing with faux sincerity.

You look up at him, a glimpse of surprise flashing in your eyes.

There we go. Wasn’t so hard to get a reaction out of you, wasn’t it? Mattheo thinks to himself, raising a brow. This would be simple enough. You’d fight back, and after a bit, he’d reluctantly agree. He’d begin to feign actual interest and before you knew it he’d be walking away with 100 galleons added to his name.

But instead of fighting, you nod and look back down at your book.

“Ok.” You murmur.

Mattheo's smirk falters for just a moment as he processes your response. He hadn't expected you to simply agree, to comply without so much as a hint of resistance. It throws him off balance, leaving him momentarily speechless.

“What? You’re not going to disagree? Or go snake on me to Professor Sinastra?” His voice comes out more incredulous than he intended, a mixture of surprise and confusion evident in his tone.

You glance up at him, your expression unreadable. "It's not like I have much of a choice, do I?" you reply calmly, your voice devoid of any trace of emotion.

Mattheo's mind races, trying to make sense of your reaction. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. You were supposed to push back, to challenge him, to give him something to work with. But instead, you're just... accepting it.

A flicker of annoyance flares within him, quickly followed by a surge of frustration. This wasn't what he had planned, wasn't how it was supposed to play out. He wanted a challenge, not this... this acquiescence.

He eyes you with a small frown, before turning on his heel and walking out. He’s both frustrated and confused, pondering your words as he makes his way back to the Slytherin common room. Were you really that pathetic? Did you actually have no backbone?

He walks back into the relatively empty common room, spotting the whole group in their usual spot. He goes over to them, tossing his bag to the side as he plops down onto the sofa with a sigh. Pansy eyes him with amusement as she speaks.

“So how was your first evening with our perfect student? Did you woo her under the stars?” Pansy teases as Mattheo fishes around in his pocket for a cigarette.

“Serenade her with a poem?”Theodore joins in, a grin tugging at his lips.

“Merlin, I knew she was a stick-up but to be that much of a push-over? She’s so mind-numbingly fucking boring it's actually insane.” Mattheo starts, lighting the cigarette as he takes a deep drag.

“I mean, I told her that she had to do all the work and give me the credit, and she just said ok! No fighting back, not even a look of annoyance. She just looked down and said Ok,” He exclaims, still rather baffled as he smokes his cigarette.

Lorenzo raises an eyebrow, his lips curling into a sly smirk. "Well, isn't that just precious," he taunts, the hint of mockery in his tone unmistakable. "Our little goody-two-shoes just rolling over and playing dead at the first sign of trouble."

Mattheo scowls, taking another drag from his cigarette as he mulls over their words. It's frustrating, infuriating even, to think that you would just acquiesce without so much as a fight. He had been expecting resistance but instead, he's met with nothing but compliance, and it grates on his nerves in a way he can't quite explain.

"Well, whatever," Mattheo mutters, exhaling a cloud of smoke as he leans back against the sofa.

Just as he goes to speak, his eyes are drawn to the entrance of the common room. The group falls silent at your arrival. You walk through the common room, not even glancing in their direction as you clutch your school bag tightly, heading back up to your dorm.

‘Like you have your tail between your legs’ Mattheo thinks, observing your retreating form.

“Maybe it turned her on?” Theodore proposes. Draco groans, setting down his mug as he rolls his eyes.

“That's disgusting. I do not need to be thinking about that,” He complains.

“You’re the weirdo who proposed the bet anyway!” Theodore quips back, and they soon fall into a silly argument.

It’s all background noise for Mattheo, who can't seem to stop thinking about you. There was no chance you were simply so easily swayed, so complacent. No, there had to be more to it.

Mattheo was a Slytherin through and through. Cunning, resourceful, and ambitious. And if he wanted something, he would always get it. Mattheo would win this bet, and if not for the 100 galleons, it would be to unravel and destroy you, for he saw in your innocence a challenge — a spotless canvas begging for the brushstrokes of corruption, a pure soul ripe for the taint of himself. Even the most virtuous are not spared, and in his eyes, your fall would be his ultimate triumph.

@schaebickel @multifandom-worlds @mildlyuninformative @lillywildly @gillyweeds @anti-hero03

#slytherin #slytherin boys #tom riddle #harry potter #draco malfoy #lorenzo berkshire #slytherin boys fic #theodore nott #blaise zabini #pansy parkinson #mattheo riddle smut #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo x you #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo x y/n

[frenziedfireworks]

Late Nights

Sebastian Sallow x Reader

Summary : You are super tired but your boyfriend has other ideas.

CW : SMUT, 18+ Characters, f!reader, somnophilia, degrading, breeding kink, needy & very horny seb

masterlist

Sebastian was insatiable. You didn’t know where he stored the energy even throughout such a cumbersome day. 

Both of you had spent the day doing chores and getting the house ready for Anne. She would be visiting soon and Merlin forbid she sees a speck of dust in the house. You had been deathly tired after and went to bed early.. or so you had planned. It hadn’t even been thirty minutes before you felt the bed dip and Sebastian sigh. You ignored his hands that trailed up your form and continued to rest.

“Y/N are you awake?” Sebastian’s breath fanned against your ear and you scrunched up. You knew what kind of mood he was in and could tell what was coming.

“No.” You responded and tried to keep in a laugh. 

“Oh what a shame.” Sebastian snorted and you felt his hand crawl under your gown. His fingers played against the flesh of your thighs and his lips nipped at your ear.

“Y/N..” He pleaded again and you sighed.

“If you want me that bad then take me. I’m worn out Sebastian.” You whispered and kicked your nightgown off. Something had awakened in your boyfriend from the comment as he gripped you harshly.

“You’re gonna let me fuck you while you sleep?” He rasped and you felt your core throb. So that’s what he was thinking of. You couldn’t deny that the thought of him using you to pleasure himself even while you were asleep was deeply arousing. 

“Yes. You can use me.” You whisper out and shut your eyes again as you relish in his touch. His hands automatically began tweaking at your chest with a rapid pace. His teeth bit circles into your neck which were sure to leave bruises by the morning. 

“Fuck.” Sebastian groaned as he rutted his erection against your ass. You could only let a small moan as you felt his hand travel down to your mound. His fingers worked fast circles around your nub, desperation clawing away at his mind. He was more akin to an animal than man, leaving not even a second to waste. His large digit pressed into your needy hole, your body shaking at the new pressure.

“Fuck that’s right. Look at you swallowing my finger. Greedy fucking girl even when you’re half asleep.” 

His pace was erratic and you felt him insert another finger. Your body contorted with pleasure as he hit the right spot. A low chuckle filled the silence as he continued.

“Gonna fucking cum on my fingers and then I’m gonna plug you with my cock. You’re gonna take it all like the whore you are.” 

His vulgar words only sent you higher, your hand gripping at the sheet below. Your core spasmed as you came, drenching your boyfriends hand in the process.

“Oh fuck. Look at the mess you’ve made. Can’t even help yourself huh?” Sebastian bit at your neck and you groaned a bit.

“Gonna fuck your poor little pussy now. Fill you up and let you wake up to a mess.” 

Sebastian’s cock rubbed through your folds, teasing you as he positioned himself. It didn’t take long at all for him to plunge into your sensitive hole. You clenched and moaned at the intrusion, adjusting to his size.

“Oh fuck. You always feel so fucking good! So tight for me. Built to take my cock.” 

He began to piston into you, his grip on your hips brutal. The room felt like a sauna and your body flopped with each thrust to your core. Lewd slapping noises and Sebastian’s grunts were the only thing you could hear as your mind fluttered in and out of consciousness. You could feel yourself getting closer and evidently Sebastian was too.

“I can feel you clenching me princess. Why don’t you cum on my cock so I can fill this pussy up like it deserves?” His hand trailed down to rub at your bundle of nerves and your body jolted. 

“Mmm…” you moaned out in a sleepy stupor and he just laughed.

“Yeah I bet you like it slut. Cum for me.” 

Your body did as it was told, hitting that euphoric high for the second time. It wasn’t even seconds later that you felt his pace go slack and his warmth fill you up. His hips jutted a few more times before he finally stopped, an arm pulling you flush against his chest. 

“Thanks darling. You’re the best.” He murmured as he kissed the nape of your neck. You ran your hand along his toned thigh that laid behind you and hummed.

“Night you beast.” You whispered and he snorted.

“Goodnight princess.”

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