#spurious replies
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Second Son
Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader
Summary: The second son is, for once, the first choice...
Warnings: none really... mild angst, family dynamics, love at first sight.
Word Count: 2.9k
Authors Note: Request fill for anon here, about Benedict being the second choice for everything.... until his love turns up. Thanks for this request; I hope this is angsty enough for you anon. Im not sure about it tbh. Sorry that it's taken more than three months to get to it on my WIP list. Unbetaed. Enjoy <3
Benedict Bridgerton was born into privilege and can have few complaints. Except perhaps that he is always second. The spare. The just-in-case option. Being a familial insurance policy lends one more freedom than the burden of being the titled first son, perhaps, but it also feels like your whole existence, in some respects, can seem like a contingency plan.
____
His stomach swoops with excitement as the arrow pierces the target dead on the bullseye. And on his first ever archery lesson, just after his twelfth birthday.
He turns around to see if anyone is there to witness his triumph, but it goes unmarked. All his young siblings gathered around Anthony, patting him on the back for his achievements in doing the same moments before. Being a good shot is an essential skill for the next Viscount indeed. The fact that he has been receiving instruction for months already and this is Benedict’s first lesson hurts a little.
But he doesn't bother to bring attention to his arguably more impressive feat. It seems pointless now. Wordlessly he shrugs and walks towards the target, plucking out his arrow and starting again. Perhaps next time, they will notice.
____
“Is that the new Viscount Bridgerton?” Benedict hears a young girl murmur as he sweeps into the first societal event of the season, the spring following his father's death.
“Oh no, my dear, sadly not; I believe that is one of the brothers,” her mother replies, acting as if he has no sense of hearing, even trying to ignore it as he is, surveying the crowd.
“Such a shame,” the young girl huffs, “he is so very handsome.”
“Yes, dear, but sadly not titled. We can do better,” her mother chides, moving them along out of earshot.
He will never get over how cutthroat the Ton can be, a part of his tender seventeen-year-old heart sinking. Not that he had a potential interest in that girl, more the principle that he will somehow be rendered as an also-ran, at best a consolation prize, for the rest of his life.
What is most galling, perhaps, is that, when his mother needs their presence the most on a night like tonight, the new VIscount is nowhere to be seen. Has not even bothered to show his face, running off to some spurious gambling den and brothel, spending the night indulging himself rather than facing society.
So here Benedict is, stepping up to play the dutiful son that his elder brother should be. Being the support their mother so desperately needs at her first event as a widow, her arm looped heavily through his, her whole bodyweight seeming to use him as her literal pillar of support. As he escorts her around the room, he is filled with admiration at her brave face. He can see the overwhelming sadness in her eyes every time the word dowager is invoked, and his heart cracks a little at the loneliness he can feel emanating from his mother’s very soul.
“Tis a shame the Viscount did not deign the first event of the season worthy of his patronage,” she states pointedly as she sips champagne.
“I am sure he has very good reasons for his absence,” Benedict replies soothingly, covering for his errant brother, attempting to shield their mother from the truth of his philandering ways. Benedict knows it is Anthony’s way of dealing with the responsibility of the title of Viscount being thrust upon him so young. But sometimes, just sometimes, Benedict wishes he could escape his grief in such a manner, Anthony taking his turn attending a stuffy ball and playing guardian to a grieving woman. Their burdens may be different, but the wish to escape them is often not, Benedict realises.
____
She catches his eye at a garden party at Aubrey Hall. She is a pretty young lady, maybe eighteen to his twenty-three, with bright eyes and a sweet, happy face. She makes his palms slightly sweaty. He watches her from a distance, uncertain how to approach or what to say, feeling a little tongue-tied, even.
Just then, Anthony materialises at his shoulder.
“Who is that pretty young thing?” Anthony asks, tracing Benedict’s line of sight.
“Miss Bradstreet,” he replies, watching as she turns to face the sun, closing her eyes, basking in its warmth. The light captures her cheekbones perfectly, and he itches to have his sketchbook and capture her likeness. He would very much like to get to know her better.
“Let's go provide a warm welcome,” Anthony smirks, clapping a hand on Benedict’s shoulder and practically dragging him across the lawn.
Benedict reluctantly follows, a flutter of excitement as her eyes land upon them as they approach.
“Miss Bradstreet,” Anthony swaggers. “Viscount Bridgerton at your service; I am so very pleased to be your host today,” he bows.
Benedict's stomach plunges as he watches her practically melt into the lawn right there, virtually swooning at Anthony’s feet.
“Oh, and this is my brother, Benedict,” Anthony adds, almost as an afterthought.
She flicks her head to the side briefly to politely acknowledge Benedict before returning to Anthony. All of her undivided adoring attention on him as he regales the story of his latest hunting triumphs upon her insistence. Benedict heaves a sigh and watches as yet another young lady he likes chooses his brother over him. He is almost used to it now, but it doesn't stop the sting every time.
____
Your world grinds to a halt as you see him. He is descending the stairs with what you assume is the rest of his family. He is very much in the middle of a tight circle, walking behind what appears to be his mother and perhaps older brother. Quite the most beautiful man you have ever seen, your heart pounding in your ears, your throat suddenly dry despite the lemonade in your hand. You assume they must be the hosts, seeing as they are the very last to enter the ballroom here at Bridgerton House, and there is no announcement of their name.
“Who is that?” you whisper, leaning towards your elder sister. She has been out among society for a year and knows the Ton better than you.
“That is the Bridgerton family, of course,” she replies. “Illustrious in the extreme. Our hosts for this evening. The Viscount there is the most eligible bachelor of every season… and every season, he has resisted a match. So I wouldn't bother if I were you,” she sniffs.
“Which is the Viscount?” you check, your eyes unable to leave the beautiful man with a cravat tied in the most unconventional fashion.
“The one with his arm looped with their mother, the dowager Viscountess, naturally,” your sister rolls her eyes as if patently obvious.
“And what of the others?” you inquire keenly, realising the man you admire cannot be the one your sister is referring to. “Do you know their names?”
“I do not,” she admits, “such things are not really important when one is looking for a titled husband,” she points out airily.
You nod, knowing the responsibility your sister must carry as firstborn to find a suitable match that can provide for your widowed mother and, indeed, perhaps yourself and your younger sister should neither of you be able to find a husband. You don’t envy her position one little bit.
You are, however, desperate to get closer to the most beautiful man you have ever seen. And so you spend your evening working towards them, in as polite of a fashion as you can, your stomach in knots of excitement to know him.
“Dowager Viscountess Bridgerton, it is an honour and a pleasure to meet you,” you curtsy, heart pounding as he now stands a few feet away, unable to look at him so close by.
“Hello, my dear and you are?” she asks politely.
“Miss y/n y/l/n, it is my very first season; I am so honoured to be here,” you explain. “I must provide the apologies of my mother, Mrs y/l/n, who could not attend tonight due to a cold, but she is so very thankful for the invitation.”
“Oh, of course,” the viscountess smiles. “I am so sorry to hear of her illness; please pass on my best regards… Anthony!” she turns to her side to grab the attention of a man. The viscount’s head whips around from where he is in discussion with another. “Come meet Miss y/l/n,” she needles pointedly. “Miss y/l/n, this is the Viscount Anthony Brdgerton, and he is so pleased not only to make your acquaintance but also for your presence here tonight,” she welcomes on his behalf, and you do not miss the subtle nudge in the ribs she gives him.
Then his regard is drawn to you. He is handsome certainly, and you appreciate his polite but absent-minded greeting. His attentions are obviously elsewhere, but then you cannot fault him as yours are the same. Your gaze strays over his shoulder to the man who first captures your attention. And your breath is stolen by how his hazy blue eyes stare intently at you.
____
Benedict is twenty-six years old when he is struck by lightning. Not literally. But that is the sensation that runs through his body when he first lays eyes on you—politely introducing yourself to his mother and thanking her for your invitation to this ball.
He thought he knew what attraction was until this point. He thought he knew the depths to which one could fall in love in an instant. He was an utter fool. He looks at you, and at once, everything is so quiet and loud all at once. He is desperate to know you in a way he has never felt. To grab your hand, take you somewhere, and ask you a million questions to get to know your soul. He also wants to kiss you so much that his lips tingle. And inside, his lungs want to scream as his mother does the natural thing and introduces the beautiful, polite young lady to her most eligible son… Anthony.
Then his heart jolts as your eyes stray from Anthony and meets his, your pupils dilating in a way that makes his lungs too small to inhale air. It is the first and only time a young woman has had Anthony’s full attention and has looked away from it. And to him, no less. The tidal flood of chemicals in his system makes it feel like he is vibrating in his very shoes.
____
You try your best to be polite and look at Anthony as he speaks, but your sight is drawn to this other man like a moth to a flame. From appearance, the second son, as you are the second daughter. A flare of understanding and sympathy in your chest as to how that is. You want to grab his hand and run away with him.
“My lord,” you find your voice and snap your eyes back to the Viscount, “would you do me the honour of introducing me to the rest of your wonderful family?” your ask, almost timid.
He looks temporarily taken aback, as if mystified why anyone in the Ton would care about the status of anyone beyond his mother and himself. You smile at him expectantly and do not miss, from the corner of your eye, how the beautiful man’s face is awash with surprise at your request.
“Oh, most certainly,” Anthony seems to snap out of his temporary stupor and turns to introduce his siblings in attendance. A tall, baby-faced young man stands to attention as Anthony moves from left to right. “This is Colin; he has just returned from his travels in Greece,” you nod and smile politely, knowing nothing of the subject. “And this is my sister, Eloise; it is her first season, and she is not in the slightest bit happy about that,” he adds dryly, and you can't help but giggle and feel a kinship with the spirited young lady who returns your wry smile. “My eldest sister, the Duchess of Hastings, who is visiting us,”
You curtsy and bow your head. “It is an honour, your Grace,” you add, and she smiles sweetly at you, her arm looped in her mother's.
“Obviously, you have met my mother,” he continues, and suddenly he is the last in the line. You feel your palms clench, sweaty in anticipation of learning his name “... and this is my brother, Benedict; he hopes to be an artist.”
You are finally brave enough to meet his eyes again. He is so achingly beautiful that the rest of his family, indeed the whole ballroom, melt away from your view—he is all you can see.
“Oh, I adore art,” you stutter, mesmerised, offering your hand to him, the first and only person in the family you do so to. Unseen by you, your gaze only on one man, Anthony’s mouth drops open in surprise.
Nothing can prepare you for when Benedict’s gloved hand gently touches yours, him bowing to kiss the back of your hand. You catch a woody citrus scent that makes your mouth water as he does so. And then you feel the warmth of his lips through your glove, and you are utterly undone.
“Miss y/l/n,” he rumbles quietly, the sound making your insides melt even more; it's deep and resonant and makes every inch of your body tingle.
“Please call me y/n,” you murmur, moving closer, knowing how scandalous that might be, but seemingly unable to stop yourself. He has a hypnotic hold over you that you don't want to fight.
“Only if you shall call me Benedict,” he breathes, and it takes Anthony clearing his throat to make you spring apart, suddenly remembering where you are.
____
His lips touch the silk of your glove, and he is gone.
Already planning a future, his mind supplying images of you at his cottage out in the country, the lady of the house. Tending to the herb garden, reading happily curled up in front of the fire in the drawing room, fearlessly plucking a bow as you stand in front of joint archery targets gently teasing him for losing to a girl, and finally, the image that truly knocks the wind out of him, you naked under him, desperately moaning his name as you move together, entwined in ecstasy.
He hears your sharp inhale, and his heart skips at the idea you feel it too. That you are the first woman ever that sees him and not Anthony. Really sees him. Not as the second son. Not as a consolation prize.
And when your body seems to sway towards him, he is already mentally asking his mother for a betrothal ring from her grandmother, which she said she is keeping just for him.
____
“Benedict,” his name feels wonderful in your mouth, like a gift from the heavens. “Please, may we take a turn around the gardens?” you implore, the boldest you have ever been in your whole life.
“It would be my very greatest pleasure,” he responds.
And you know with absolute certainty you have met your husband, the father of your children, your very future.
____
“It is not as if this is my show….” he sighs.
“You should not do that, darling,” you say affectionately, ruffling his hair as you move to fix his cravat; it definitely needs to be more jaunty, in your opinion.
“Do what?” he breathes, his wedding ring catching the light as he places his hands gently over yours and stills your motions.
“Think of yourself as second,” you argue, running your hand over his cheek. “This gallery opening may feature others' work too, but you are the star of the exhibit,” you reassure, tilting his forehead down so it rests upon yours.
There it is again. That look that always floors you. Even now, a year later. Like you are the most wondrous creature, and he can scarcely believe you are his.
“Never forget, you will always be first to me,” you utter fiercely, watching his eyes soften with devotion. “And not just me….” you guide his sizeable warm hand onto the swell of your belly, “to us. We love you so much, Benedict,” your tone is ardent, wanting him to believe he deserves this recognition, that he should believe in himself the way that you do.
“I love you, too,” he responds quietly, reverentially. “So very much. Both of you are my whole world,” his voice choked with emotion, and you throw your arms around him and squeeze hard, wanting to telegraph just how much he is the very centre of your universe.
An hour later, you clutch your hands over your chest as you watch him being brought onto the raised stage and introduced to the crowd as they applaud him and his work rapturously, awaiting to hear him talk of his art. As he does so, you stroke your belly unseen under your cloak, beaming with pride for your wonderful husband.
____
He sees your face in the crowd, and as ever, it calms him, especially at this landmark moment. So as he finishes the speech that he has rehearsed for days now, he decides to do something perhaps unconventional but something he seems unable to resist.
“Lastly, before I allow you back to your champagne,” he jests, finally at ease with the attention and recognition. “I want to thank my life’s inspiration, the very reason I stand before you today. My wonderful wife. Thank you, my love, for being the light of my life; for always making this second son your first choice. You will always, always be my first choice. I love you.”
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Mutual Masturbation | Kunigami Rensuke x Reader
𝐦𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 - 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐬 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.
Kinktober masterlist.
Summary: Kunigami’s coach never allowed any sex before important match days and your boyfriend was always a stickler for the rules, no matter how stressed out it made him. But this time you’ve devised a workaround.
Pairing: Kunigami Rensuke x f!reader.
Warnings: 18+, pwp, not proofread!, mutual masturbation, praise, fingering, hand jobs, cumshots.
Word Count: 3.1k.
You loved Kunigami and supported him through his dream of becoming one of the greatest players in the world, watching him in his journey from Blue Lock as he began to follow in the footsteps of his favourite players, reaching the big leagues. But— you absolutely hated his coach, the man was supposedly an expert in his field, but he was also doing everything in his power to keep your boyfriend away from you.
It wasn’t enough that you’d been with Kunigami longer than he’d been in the big leagues, longer than he’d been with this team.
You were nothing but a distraction.
But a distraction was exactly what Kunigami needed right now. His body aching from the intense training regime, as he barely made it out of the shower and onto the couch beside you. Already moving to give you the same speech he always did whenever you’d straddle his hips and press kisses against his pulse point.
“Coach said no sex before big games, you know that—” it was always the same story, the same excuse. His coach believed it made his players perform to a higher standard, and that having sex would sap their testosterone and athletic ability. But you knew better— you knew that you were doing him, and his teammates a favour.
You despised whoever invented this spurious old wives tale, convinced that the coach was jealous of his players and their healthy sex lives that he was making it his mission to have each of them as touch starved as he probably was. If it was such a great idea, Raichi probably wouldn’t end up with a red card at the end of each game. Or maybe he would, but sex would certainly help.
You just missed your boyfriend’s touch, and having to wake up to his morning wood pressed snug against your ass each morning without him doing anything about it was going to become your undoing. You needed a fix, and you were going to get it.
“Careful.” Kunigami groaned as he felt your teeth nip the sensitive skin on his neck, your fingers trailing through the hair on his undercut as you pressed your chest against his, “You know we can’t.”
“You know we don’t have to have sex,” You hummed as you mimicked his words. Shifting on his lap as you felt the tent beneath his sweats nudge your scorched slit, almost certain he could feel the heat radiating through the fabric, “There are other things we can do.”
Your lips hovered over his as you felt his warm breath fan your face. His chestnut eyes gazed into yours lowly as he fought the urge to lean forward and make your lips meet, knowing that the moment they did his willpower would be near non-existent as he moved to bend you over the nearest available surface.
“Like what?” Kunigami replied with intrigue, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth.
“Let me show you,” You smiled, pecking his lips as he pulled back.
“Yeah?” He hummed breathlessly, his head settled against the back of the couch as his fingers dipped into the plush curve of your hips, dangerously close to the swell of your ass. As though he was fighting himself internally to tug you forward and press you down on his lap hard, “But coach said-”
“I know, I know. Coach said no sex,” You felt the corners of your lips curling into a sly smile, “I won’t even touch you, Ren. I promise.”
Your boyfriend gave you a look as though he didn’t quite believe you, watching through half-lidded eyes as you slipped from his lap to sit on one side of the couch. Shamelessly splaying your thighs apart as the oversized shirt you were wearing bunched around your hips. One of your feet was positioned on the floor, the other near the back of the couch as you gave him the perfect view of the lacy panties you were wearing beneath. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t worn these in an attempt to entice your boyfriend to break the cardinal rule, and from the drunken haze in his gaze, you could’ve fooled yourself into thinking it had worked. His eyes fixed on the apex of your thighs as you watched his hips shift against the plush seat, spreading his thighs to try and give his throbbing cock some much-needed relief.
“If we’re not going to have sex, then what are we doing, sweetheart?” He groaned as you answered by sliding two fingers along your clothed crotch, the noise that slipped from your lips at the friction akin to that of pure angels as he felt a deep groan rumble in his chest, “Fuck.”
“I told you, baby.” You hummed softly, pressing down against your neglected clit through the thin layer of fabric, “You’re not gonna touch me- we’re just going to help each other out.”
Kunigami didn’t respond as his eyes remained fixed on the hand between your thighs, watching as you continued to tease yourself. The sheer fabric darkening was an indication of how wet you were already, and you’d barely even touched yourself. Wondering whether it was the thought of him alone that left you like this, hungry and salacious.
“You’ve been so stressed lately,” You continued, moving your thumbs to slip into the hem of your panties as you began to languidly drag them down your hips, “You almost knocked Raichi out on the field last week-”
“Fuck— Don’t mention his name now,” Kunigami groaned as he watched strings of your slick connecting your folds to your soaked panties begin to break in silvery wisps against your inner thighs, “I’ll go soft.”
“Bet you won’t,” You teased back, “Admit it, you need this just as much as me.”
You let your panties dangle on your ankle as you raised your leg up towards your boyfriend teasingly, before dropping them onto his lap with a smile. Kunigami’s fingers instantly weaved into the fabric as he thumbed the wet patch against the crotch. Watching as his nostrils flared at the sensation of just how wet and warm you were, remembering exactly how it felt to slide his thick cock inside your slick heat.
“Come on, Ren.” You practically purred as you parted your messy folds with two fingers so he could see how eager you were, “I need you so bad.”
A choked moan left his lips at the desperate sound of your voice as his hips jerked sloppily, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he swallowed thickly. Your lacy panties balled in one of his fists as he shrugged his sweats and boxers down just enough to free his aching cock. You could’ve almost moaned at the sight of him, trying to remember the last time you’d seen him like this besides watching him get changed in the morning while you shamelessly ogled him from your bed. Trying to coax him back as you’d watch his soft cock harden at the mere thought before he’d give you the same excuse, “coach said no sex until the championship game” before leaving you unsatiated.
“God, I’ve missed him.” You tease, feeling your cunt throb as you took in the sight of his flushed tip, all pink and swollen as you watched pre drool from his slit down his length. Remembering the sensation of him filling you to the brim as he’d plunge inside your silky depths, the pleasurable ache of him stretching you into the shape of him.
“He misses you too,” Kunigami smirked as he held himself at the base, licking your lips as you found yourself leaning forward to swipe your finger against the drooling tip of his cock.
“Uh-uh,” Kunigami was quick to catch your wrist in a large palm, stopping you from reaching out to touch him, “You said no touching.”
“Just wanna taste,” You whimpered, “Please?”
“So needy.” Kunigami scoffed, as though he didn’t feel the exact same as you. The scent of your arousal was intoxicating as he held back every ounce of restraint to stop himself from diving headfirst into your messy cunt, remembering the taste of you on his tongue as he instinctively licked his lips. His thumb swiped over the leaking tip of his cock as he gathered his pre against the calloused skin, moving his hand towards you as an offering you eagerly accepted, greedily sucking his thumb between your pouty lips as you felt the heady taste of him on your tongue. A low whine vibrated around his digit as you began to suck on it desperately, your cheeks hollowing as your tongue swirled around the tip.
“Fuck,” Kunigami choked as his cock bobbed against his abdomen, his balls heavy and full of cum as he wished he could give you more. Picturing emptying himself into your pliant mouth as a palm wrapped around your neck to feel you swallow, the taste of him heavy on your tongue as you milked him for all he was worth.
“Thought you said no touching, sweetheart.” He hummed as he pulled his thumb from your lips, dragging the bottom one down before letting it flick back into place. Leaning forward as you watched him move the same hand to wrap around his heavy cock, squeezing softly as he groaned.
“We could,” You replied coyly, “Touching still isn’t sex.”
“And I know you have no restraint,” He smiled, “You little minx.”
“I do,” You whined back with a pout, you absolutely didn’t. The last time there was an important game coming up, you’d managed to get Kunigami benched after the coach had caught you in the locker rooms, uncaring that he was his best striker.
“You don’t.” He scoffed, “Can’t even follow basic rules.”
“It’s a stupid rule,” You retorted stubbornly, letting your fingers drag through your slick as you circled your thighs entrance, “Leave your girlfriend unsatisfied so you play better on the field.”
“Rules are rules.” Kunigami continued, his hand languidly stroking his cock as his eyes focused on the way your fingers moved against you, “So we better follow them. Especially after what happened last time.”
“But you wish you were the one playing with my pussy right now, don’t you?” You cooed, sliding your slick-coated fingers up to your clit as you pressed against the sensitive nub softly. The sensation pulled a soft whine from your lips as you tried to touch yourself how Kunigami would, precise and constant as he knew your body better than your own.
“Oh, I do.” He groaned, his thumb swiping at the fresh pre oozing from his head as he smoothed it down the length of his cock, “But unlike you, I know how to follow the rules.”
“You love it really,” You hummed, your cunt clenching at the darkened look in his eyes as he shamelessly roamed your body, “Stupid rules are made to be broken.”
“I love it when you behave,” He corrected you, pulling a needy moan from you at his tone. Your fingers prodding your tight entrance as you tried to imagine it was him instead, stretching yourself out around your digits.
“I am behaving.” You pouted.
“Are you?” He scoffed, “Doesn’t look like it.”
“I am,” You whined childishly, “If I wasn’t I’d be sitting on your dick right now.”
The grunt Kunigami let out at that was dark and guttural, a deep groan reverberating from deep in his chest as he sent a jolt of electricity straight to your cunt. Your walls trembled around your fingers as your hips bucked into your touch, feeling lightheaded as your head fell back against the arm of the couch.
“Damn,” He sucked in a sharp breath at the lewd sound of your fingers buried deep inside your walls, the squelch filling the room as he imagined how much louder they’d be paired with skin against skin. You were practically dripping for him and he hadn’t even touched you, so desperate and needy for him that you’d go to these extremes instead of waiting for the season to be over, “Show me those pretty tits.”
“I thought you didn’t want to do this,” You teased, “The rules-”
“Do it,” He almost growled, the cool timber to his voice had you complying almost instantly as you pulled his shirt up over your chest to reveal your naked breasts to his gaze, “Fuck.”
His hand sped up against his shaft, the slick friction echoing around the room as he leaned forward to spit down on his length. The sound had you clenching as you wished your fingers felt as good as his, stroking against the silky spot inside you that Kunigami always focused on.
“You’re so pretty,” He mumbled, chestnut eyes roaming your exposed skin as he reached his free hand out to squeeze your calf. The warmth of his hand against your skin had the heat inside you burning like a flame, reaching up to palm one of your naked breasts as you tried to mimic his movements. Fingers tweaking your hardened nipple as you tugged gently, pulling more gruff groans from your boyfriend's lips.
“Doesn’t that feel good?” You cooed, “Bet you wish it was my pussy instead.”
“Nothin’s better than your pussy,” He mumbled, rolling his wrist every time he reached his swollen tip. Tightening his fist to try and emulate how your tight cunt felt wrapped around him each time he sunk himself inside you, tempted to throw his morals to the side and break the cardinal rule as he watched the way your walls sucked three of your fingers in.
“Wish you could feel right now,” You mewled pathetically, writhing on the couch beside him as your palm pressed against your clit.
It wasn’t the same, your slender fingers couldn’t reach the same spots as he could. Sliding directly into your warmth and finding the exact places he knew would have you coming undone in minutes, navigating your body better than you ever could.
“I wish it was your fingers instead, yours always feel so much better than mine.” You continued.
“Yeah,” He grinned, his thumb pressed against his slit. You could tell by the way his thick lashes were fluttering that he was nearing his end, “I make you feel so good, don’t I, sweetheart?”
“The best, Rensuke. Every time-” Kunigami’s chest puffed at the praise, brows furrowing as his hand increased its pace against his cock, “You’re the best.”
“Yeah, I am.” He keened at the praise, his chest puffing out as he continued stroking himself.
The sight of him had your cunt clenching around your fingers, keeping the tips of them pressed against the spongy spot inside you as you brought your other hand down to press rough, constant circles against your puffy clit. The coil inside you was dangerously close to snapping as you continued to watch your boyfriend fist himself at the thought of you, his knuckles white from how tight he was fisting himself. Fingers trailing along the prominent veins on his length as he tried to imagine his thick cock stretching your tight walls as he buried himself balls deep. Your creamy arousal leaving rings around the base of his heavy cock so he could see the absolute mess he'd make of you every time, the mess reserved just for him.
“I’m gonna cum,” You gasped, your walls beginning to clamp down around your fingers in anticipation.
“Gonna cum for me, sweet girl?” Kunigami groaned, “Show me how pretty you look when you’re cummin’ for me, yeah?”
A jumbled cry of his name fell from your lips as you began to convulse around your fingers, tumbling into your bliss as your hips bucked from the couch. Riding out your release as you felt the tension dissipate to be replaced with euphoria as you felt Kunigami’s intense gaze completely fixated on you, his hand still slick and constant against his hard cock as he watched you ride out your climax. Pulling your fingers from your fluttering hole as you moved them up to gently brush your clit, fingers slick with your arousal.
“Want you to cum for me, baby.” You cooed, watching his jaw tighten as he clenched his teeth. The tension in him was at breaking point as he moved his free hand to grip the back of the couch, “Please, I want it.”
“Yeah? You want my cum?” He snarled through clenched teeth, his hand swift against his length as he sped up to bring himself to meet his own end.
“Yeah,” You parroted, unable to take your eyes off the hand around his cock, remembering when he used to piston his fingers inside your cunt at the same speed. Your cunt clenched as he began to shift on the couch, his forearm on the back as he kneeled between your parted thighs. Hovering over your glistening folds as he jerked himself above you.
“I’ll fuckin’ give it to you, sweetheart.” He groaned, half-lidded eyes gazing down at your wetness as he pictured how easily he could slip inside you and feel your walls trembling around him, the thought sending him to meet his own end, “Take it.”
You gasped as the first white-hot globs of cum began to drip onto your cunt, the sensation scorching you as his movements became erratic. Spurts flew along your torso as they landed against your naked breasts and tummy, painting your body white with his release as he left a trail of warmth against your skin.
“Oh, fuck.” Kunigami groaned as he emptied his balls, tapping the tip of his spent cock against your clit as he dragged it through your folds. Smearing his cum into your skin as he mixed it with your own release, chest heaving from the intensity of his climax.
Catching you by surprise as he reached down with his spit-soaked hand to pull the fingers that had been inside your cunt to his lips. His tongue swirled around them as he cleaned the taste of you from your skin, a deep timber groan rumbling deep in his chest at the taste of you.
“You’re a terrible influence,” He murmured, glancing down at the content smile that was now on your face as you leaned your tired body against the couch.
“Yeah, but you love me though.” You teased, avoiding his lips when he leaned down to kiss you, “Hey, no kisses before big games.”
“That isn’t a rule,” He scoffed, pinching your cheeks between his thumb and forefinger as your lips curled into a pout as he gave you a sloppy kiss.
“Maybe I’m making it one.” You scrunched your nose as he shook his head.
“You wouldn’t dare.” He smiled softly, giving you another softer kiss as he ran his hands along your sides, “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”
His coach would argue that sex before a game made his players worse, but you would argue that it just made them more hungry.
#Kunigami x reader#Kunigami smut#Rensuke Kunigami x reader#Rensuke Kunigami smut#blue lock smut#blue lock x reader#bllk smut#bllk x reader#kinktober#kinktober 2022
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For You~ [Yandere Marinette/LadyBug]
Summery: After realizing her new obsession she is dedicated not give up on this one because this time it's true love.
•───────•°•❀•°•───────•
''Mari are you okay? you've been staring at Y/n for far too long'' Her best friend asked ''They are so perfect'' Marinette mumble to herself ''Huh?'' ''Nothing'' Marinette quickly covered it up and looked back in her textbook pretending like nothing happened.
''Y/n!'' You turned around and saw Marinette running up to you ''Are you free this-'' she paused ''This weekend'' she breathe out ''I- mean it's completely fine if you can't...'' she kept mumbling to herself. you let out soft chuckle and nodded ''Yes, Marinette I'm free'' you replied she looked up in shock but that was soon covered by a brightest smile she was overjoyed by the butterflies ''So we'll meet in my cafe'' she stated. The smile never leaving her face ''Alright'' you replied with small smile.
''So what would you like to eat?'' she asked sitting infront of you ''Some [F/n] perhaps?'' you suggested ''Okay, My parents aren't home so feel comfortable'' she said heading inside ''Uh-Okay'' you said giving a small but spurious smile
While she was making you the food you couldn't help but feel a little overwhelmed by her behavior but then again you can't just leave since you don't wanna seem like a villain ''Here~" she hummed bring the food and placing it infront of you ''Thank you'' you said and took a small bite it was delicious you can't help but felt a little dizzy ''Aren't you eating anything?'' you asked looking at Marinette who was staring at you ''Oh no I'm already full'' she shook her head ''Okay'' you began to feel lightheaded, your vision going blurry ''Ugh'' you grunted holding your head ''Mari-Marine-Marinette?'' you manage to muttered ''Yes? My love?'' She asked standing next to you.
You felt impossible to focus but still managed to asked ''Wh..Ugh...Why?'' you felt yourself losing the control of your body ''Well darling'' she said coming near your ears ''I love you and to prove that I'll do anything for you~''
#yandere blog#yandere x reader#soft yandere#yandere oneshot#yandere imagines#yandere x darling#yandere#yandere x you#tw yandere#yandere ladybug#Yandere mlb#yandere female#yandere marinette#yandere scenarios#yancore#yandere insert#miraculous fandom#miraculous ladybug#miraculoustalesofladybugandcatnoir#ladybug and chat noir#yandere ladybug and chat noir#fypツ
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| the outside
| criminal minds
| jj x daughter
| angst
| 2249 words
"Two FBI agents from the Behavioural Analysis Unit in Quantico, involved in a bombing-"
"Fuck" you muttered to yourself, stopping yourself from cleaning your room, quickly scrambling to find the remote to knock your television off, you knew your mother was working today.
You walked downstairs to see if your parents are home yet, you looked around and the house was quiet, JJ, Will, Henry, or Michael weren't home, you went into the kitchen to get yourself a glass of water to calm yourself down after panicking, you pulled out your phone to see if your mother or father had text you but all you had was a text from your mother at 6:50am which stated 'Em called me into work this morning early, I'll be back around 5ish, love you' your reply was 'no problem, love you too, want me to pick up the boys from school?' you didn't get a text back which you just assumed meant that JJ was on duty in the field.
Checking your phone and seeing '4:58' made you panic even more, you decided to give it a few minutes to see if your mother came home, she would always be home by 5:30 so you gave it until then.
5:45 comes and you're mother is still not home, your father got back with Henry and Michael around the time she was supposed to be back.
"Hey guys, how was school today?" you smiled, as Henry and Michael came towards you, Michael running up to hug you and Henry going to his room.
"School was school" Henry shrugged.
"School was fun" Michael beamed.
"That's so fun Michael, did both of you have a good day?" Henry nodded as he closed him room, you could tell he hadn't had a good day but you would talk to him later.
"How was college?" Michael asked looking up at you, since you were 19 you had been in college now. College had been going well in all fairness to the 10 year old boy, you had been studying English Literature, you didn't really want to follow in your parents footsteps, you respected their jobs tremendously but you could see the pain and the exhaustion in their faces everyday no matter how hard they tried to deny it.
"It was my day off today" you ruffled his hair.
"You stayed here all on your own?" he worried.
"I did yeah, but I'm okay" you hugged him once more "I need to talk to daddy for a second but I'll be back in a little bit okay?"
"Okay" he smiled, walking off to play in his room which was next door to yours.
"Dad, you're home" you smiled as you walked down the stairs to see him in the kitchen making a coffee, you looked around to see if your mother was around "mom's not home?" you questioned as you took the coffee cup your dad was offering you.
"Not yet, Emily asked if she got stay for a few more hours to go over some papers" your dad lied, hiding it behind a spurious smile.
"Oh okay" you smiled " I text her earlier actually, to see if she wanted me to pick up the boys or if you were going to, she didn't answer her phone so I just assumed that it was you picking them up" you smiled, hoping he would come out with some sort of an answer as to why she didn't answer her phone all day.
"Busy paperwork day" he shrugged not wanting you to worry.
"I think Michael said he wanted me to help him with his homework so i'm gonna-" you deferred, backing up quickly for your father not to see your tears.
Looking at your clock which was now at 7pm, you shakily grabbed your phone and sat on your bed, your hands shaking as you debated on calling your mother, she always said call in emergencies and text whenever, but this counted as an emergency right?
The first call went straight to voicemail, the second one did too, you tried your luck for a third but as soon as you were about to end the call it went through.
"Mom?" your voice wavered, your breath shaky "mom where are you, come home please finish your paperwork tomorrow I need to see you-" you didn't even give her a chance to get a word in.
"Slow down Y/N" A voice that was not your mother's answered the phone.
"Emily?" you furrowed your brows.
Why the hell is Emily answering your mother's phone, why couldn't your mother get to the phone itself.
"Emily where the hell is my mother and why isn't she answering the damn phone" you snapped at her.
"Y/N do not-" she stopped she sentence straight away "you saw the news didn't you?" she sighed.
"No?" your statement came out as a question.
"Y/N" Emily pushed.
"Okay fine I did" you sighed, holding back a sob.
"Does your dad and the boys know? I mean do they know you know" Emily sighed.
"I don't-I don't think so" you turned to your door to see if anyone heard you were on the phone.
"Who's on the phone honey?" your dad's voice appeared behind the door.
"Shit" you muttered.
"Nat" you lied, if you told him your bestfriend was on the phone then maybe he would leave.
"I need to see her Emily, I need to know that she's alive" you begged.
You heard Emily sigh loudly on the other side of the phone, you doing the same.
"Can you tell me why nobody is telling me anything?" your voice shaky again "dad told me that you asked her to do extra paperwork, is she even at the office?" you questioned.
"I-" Emily started.
You scoffed, you knew that she wasn't.
"Bye Emily" you hung up the phone before she could even say anything else.
You curled up on your side, thinking about your mother, thinking of all the memories you had with her, thinking of the way she taught you how to ride a bike, taught you how to read and write, that woman got you through kindergarten, middle school, and high school, you never thought what it would be like if she left you so soon, tears freefalling, you didn't even hear your door opening.
"Y/N?" you quickly wiped your eyes and turned over to see Michael.
"Hey buddy" you smiled, shuffling backwards on the bed for him to climb and sit on.
"Heard you crying" he shrugged.
"Oh, well I didn't mean to scare you" you smiled "just watched a sad video that's all" you smiled as you hugged him.
"Where's mommy?" he asked looking up at you.
Biting your lip until it almost bled, trying to hold back your sobs once more "You remember Emily right? Mommy's best friend?" he nodded "well mommy works for Emily, Emily's her boss" he nodded intrigued "Emily asked mommy if she could stay to catch up on some work" you both smiled "speaking of work actually" you looked at him with a playful stare "do you have any homework?"
"Yeah, English! Maybe you could help me?" he questioned as he pulled it out of his bag, it was fairly easy so you got it done in a few minutes.
Michael went downstairs to talk with your dad so you knocked on Henry's room.
"Hen?" you waited for an answer "you busy?"
"You can come in" you opened the door to find him lying on his bed reading comic books, headphones next to him.
"Captain America?" you nodded to the comic book Henry was reading.
"Yeah" he sighed.
You sat down on the bed, figuring out how to say something to him "So uh, I noticed you were upset earlier and I get it if you don't wanna talk to me, but you should know that I'm always gonna listen, whatever problems you got i'm all ears" you smiled.
"It's so stupid" Henry scoffed.
"Hen, come on you're feelings are never stupid" you laughed slightly and his frown turned into a slight smirk.
"It's about mom" he said seriously.
Assuming the worst you braved for what was about to come next "what about mom?" you smiled.
"People are saying that because mom is in the FBI, she pressured all of my teachers to put me in the higher classes and give me all the distinctions" he said trying to wrap his head around it.
"That doesn't make any sense" you were just as confused as Henry, "Hen 16 year olds are mean, they take things out on you for no reason but please just know that it's not your fault and mom defiantly didn't "bribe her way" into college for you" you said in air quotes "plus you're way to smart for that, if she was gonna do that with any of us it would've been me" you said to make him feel better.
"That's Y/N" he smiled.
"No problem" you smiled getting up to leave.
"Have you seen mom by the way?" he asked as his head was in the comic book again, your hands were on the door handle, you turned around slowly.
"Emily asked her to stay behind for some paperwork to catch up on" you smiled, your hand still on the door handle but your body was facing him.
"Oh alright" he nodded as you took a breath you didn't even realize you were holding.
You went downstairs to go and eat, you, your dad, Henry, and Michael were all around the dinner table, eating in a comfortable silence, nobody really said anything until your dad spoke up "how was everyone's day today?"
"Yeah good" you smiled putting up a front for the boys "yours?"
"Yeah I had a good day too" he smiled "boys?" they both nodded and smiled, carrying on eating their food.
"So is mo-" you started, your dad glared at you and shook his head slightly, giving you a warning not to mention anything in front of your brothers, you nodded and played with your food.
Once the boys were in bed, you and Will were on the couch, both of you were watching some tv show that you weren't really paying much attention too.
"I know about mom" you blurted out, turning to him.
"How?" he looked astonished.
"I was cleaning and I had the news on and it said that two FBI agents from the Behavioural Analysis Unit, involved in a bombing and mom hasn't answered her phone all day and she isn't home" you cried.
"Come here" he opened his arms for you to hug which you gladly accepted.
"Is she still alive?" you asked a question you really didn't want answered.
"Honestly honey, I don't know, the team are doing everything they can to make sure that your mom's coming home" he smiled, all of a sudden your phone started ringing, Emily's number appeared on the screen and your dad nodded at you to answer it.
"Hello?" you questioned.
"Y/N? do you and your dad think you could come in to the office now?" Emily worried.
"Uh yeah, yeah we can come in" you shrugged to your dad who was getting the keys "what about the boys?"
"Bring them too just come here right now" Emily begged, you woke up Henry and your dad woke up Michael to take to the BAU.
You finally got there and you saw everyone standing around the meeting room, you and Henry walked over to Emily as your dad was putting Michael down to sleep.
"What's going on?" you asked.
"Why did you ask to see all of us?" Henry added.
"Henry why don't you and go sit down, look after your brother for a second while I talk to your sister? hmm?" Emily smiled, Henry looked unsure but after your convincing, he left the room and went with Michael.
Emily pulled you to talk privately "it's your mother" she sighed "they found some live footage and it was your mother and Luke Alvez her coworker who did happen to be involved with the bombing" Emily started.
"Is she alive?" you questioned and Emily nodded.
"Oh God" you cried as Emily held you.
"Hey, I thought I'd get the first hug of the night" you heard a familiar voice, you turned to see your mother, her hair messy and dust, blood and mud all over her face and body.
"Mom?" you questioned unsure if it was really her or not as you walked up to her.
"It's me baby" she held your cheeks in her hand as she kissed your forehead.
"I thought I lost you mom" you sniffled.
"I was cleaning today and the news said that someone from the BAU was involved in a bombing and you weren't answering your phone all day" you hyperventilated.
"Shh shhh, I'm here right now"' your mother cooed as she hugged you and you hugged her tighter "I'm going to ask Emily for a couple of days off to spend with you guys, not doing anything at all, maybe a quick getaway if you're up for it" JJ enquired.
"Yeah I would love that" you smiled "You have no idea how glad I am that you're back" you smiled, hugging her waist as you looked up to her.
"I'm glad to be back"'she kissed your head and hugged you until you let go.
#jennifer jareau x reader#jennifer jareau#criminal minds#jennifer jareau x daughter#jj x daughter#jennifer jareau x you#criminal minds x reader
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SGA Fanworks Only Holiday Gift Exchange 2023
A day you won’t forget by scifi_dancer | g, 2.4k, rodney / john
The prompt I used describes it well: "Nothing goes right - until it does."
A Little Christmas Chaos by WonkyElk | t, 3k, rodney / john
The Cheer Committee nodded in solemn and united agreement. In principle, of course, they agreed that ‘absolutely hosed’ was not the ideal state for a large proportion of the expedition to be in, at any one time, Christmas or not; but that didn’t stop them feeling that the punch could do with being just a smidgen merrier. For morale purposes.
Which was why each of them, separately, decided to add just the tiniest amount of extra cheer to the punch.
Big enough to miss by Mas_Pebbles_Sharp | t, 3.9k, rodney / john
Missing scenes/coda to The Daedalus Variations: Rodney's injury from alien weapon fire is worse than they at first realised
Elizabeth’s Pet Demon by Tazmy | g, 2.8k, gen
A mini demon ransacks Elizabeth’s quarters. Somehow, it’s cute. It shouldn’t be. It should be wrong, maybe even disturbing.
Finding Limits by halestrom | g, 3.6k, gen
The only thing John could focus on was getting back to Atlantis, getting a team and finding Rodney before Ford's men did anything. Getting back to Atlantis and finding out that Rodney had rescued himself wasn't a surprise, but sitting and watching his still body as Carson tried to figure out what to do was hard. Not just for John, but for all of AR-1.
First Embrace by Cyber_Witch85 | m, 2.8k, carson / evan, rodney / john, evan / john
John Sheppard and Evan Lorne rescue Rodney and Carson from a wraith lair. Carson and Evan explore the beginnings of their relationship as John and Rodney sleep.
Golden Slumbers by cassiope25 | g, 3.8k, rodney / john, team
“You should put more trust in me,” Ronon told her gently. "There's nothing a former runner can't take on.”
Ronon is there to care for his team, and they care for him in turn.
Hand in Hand by mific | e, 4.7k, rodney / john
"Yes, yes, we're the talk of the town," Rodney said, eyeing them narrowly. "Run along now and if you're ever on Cambara don't agree to do the damn welcome ritual."
"And if you do," Sheppard panted, "don't come last."
His Rodney by Jade | g, 1.5k, gen
It’s not always easy to remember who he is.
I Can Do Anything Better Than You! by Goddess47 | t, 3k, rodney / john
John, the traitor, had lured him to this so-called 'social event' organized by some self-appointed group of Expedition members. There had been a promise of chocolate cake and John had hinted at the possibility of mutual orgasms at the end of the night.
i waited ‘til i saw the sun by LogicGunn | t, 1k, steven / elizabeth
Elizabeth remembers.
I’ll keep you warm by puddlejumperpilot | g, 2k, rodney / john
The sky was darkening and fluffy snowflakes were falling from the sky as Teyla gave her speech, but John was distracted by Rodney shivering violently next to him. John swore under his breath and took off the outer layer of his jacket, wrapping it around Rodney’s shoulders.
“You’re from Canada, aren’t you supposed to be immune to the cold?” He hissed under his breath.
Rodney shot him a glare.
“You know I get cold easily!” He replied in a whisper.
“I also know that you do this every year. I’m beginning to think you just like wearing my jacket. You’re lucky I expected this, otherwise I’d just let you freeze!”
Just Peachy by melagan | t, 1.7k, rodney / john
John and Rodney are married and living on Atlantis. They have a rare day off together, but things aren't working out the way Rodney planned.
Lighter Than Air by spurious | g, 2.6k, rodney / john
Visiting a trading partner, the team participate in a winter solstice ritual that's more effective than it might seem.
Like A Shot To The Shoulder (And Other Adventures on MXR-338) by audioletter | g, 2.8k, gen
As far as welcomes go, being shot in the shoulder was not what John considered polite.
Solace by A_Storm_of_Roses | e, 7.2k, teyla / elizabeth
Elizabeth wakes with the hangover of the century and a throbbing elbow. She can’t remember how she got here, or where here even is, though it feels hard and rocky and smells like burning metal.
Elizabeth and Teyla take a very long walk, and discover each other.
the snow has drifted high by dedkake | t, 1.7k, rodney / john
Rodney and John watch the New Year's fireworks together, just like they always do.
Wraith Rodney by carsonsweebabyturtles (Erindors) | fanart
This is my Holiday gift for Cassiope25. I kind of gambled at making him a Wraith but I hope you like it anyways 💜
You can’t pin joy like a moth by QueenIshtar | t, 3.7k, john / elizabeth, carson / rodney
Elizabeth knows that you can't pin joy like a moth. It's too fleeting. Joy is the soft fluttering of wings you notice only in the still, silent moments. It's your heartbeat rushing, racing when you laugh; when you feel alive. Joy is not a complete, tangible thing.
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@meiloorun-notthefruit replied to your post “tired: Campaign 3 is being unfairly rushed to wrap...”:
Wait wait I’m behind on news what is the daggerheart campaign if anyone wants to respond
Daggerheart is the TTRPG Darrington Press is working on, intended for long-form epic fantasy play (ie, similar in genre to D&D). It's in the playtesting stage now. A lot of people (myself included) have speculated, for various reasons of varying validity, that if Critical Role does another long-form campaign after Campaign 3 ends, there's a decent chance it might be played in Daggerheart (rather than D&D). This is entirely hypothetical however: Daggerheart is real, but we don't know if there will be a Campaign 4, and we don't know that if there is a Campaign 4, it will be played in Daggerheart.
I've seen people who for various reasons are frustrated with Campaign 3 claim that it feels like Campaign 3 is being rushed to make way for the cast to do a campaign with Daggerheart. I do not think this is the case, which is what this post is about; people made similar spurious claims about the end of Campaign 2 as well. I think there's an ongoing pattern of behavior in the fandom of projecting one's own feelings about a situation onto the cast, and this is a common one. Anyway I made this joke post about it.
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Cochrane Friday – Poor Young Lord and Stupid Theories
"The Africa was sent to scour the seaboard of the States in search of enemy's vessels, but not falling in with any, we ran on to Florida, with similar ill-success. An accident here occurred to me which left its mark through life. I had contrived a ball of lead studded with barbed prongs, for the purpose of catching porpoises. One day the doctor laid me a wager against hurling the missile to a certain distance, and in the attempt a hook nearly tore off the forefinger of my right hand. A perhaps not very judicious course of reading had at that time led me to imbibe the notion of a current spurious philosophy, that there was no such thing as pain, and few opportunities were lost of parading arguments on the subject. As the doctor was dressing my hand, the pain was so intense that my crotchet was sadly scandalised by an involuntary exclamation of agony. " What ! ' said the doctor, ' ' I thought there was no such thing as pain ! ' Not liking to have a favourite theory so palpably demolished, the ready reply was that " my exclamation was not one of pain, but mental only, arising from the sight of my own blood ! ' He laughed, whilst I writhed on, but the lesson knocked some foolish notions out of my head."
– "The Autobiography Of A Seaman" by Thomas Cochrane
#cochrane friday#my dudes#bernie's research: lord cochrane#lord cochrane#royal navy#age of sail#thomas cochrane
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TWEOS - Ch46 preview
(to everyone still keeping up with this, I'm so sorry!! this chapter has been difficult to finish for no good reason :,) ADHD go brr.)
(CW: homophobic/transphobic/ableist slurs)
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"CLAUDIA GUADALUPE FUCKING PERREAULT, YOU OPEN THIS GODDAMN DOOR RIGHT NOW!"
Adrien had never heard Marthe's voice before. It certainly wasn't ideal that the first time for it was hearing her shout at Claudia while banging her fists on the locked door to the apartment's only bathroom.
Claudia and Adrien had fallen asleep—if only for a few hours—in Claudia's bathtub. It was surreal, and Adrien felt aches in places he didn't even know had feeling, but what hurt the most was having to let go of Claudia when he got up to get the door.
"I SWEAR TO GOD, YOU ACT LIKE YOU'RE THE ONLY DAMN PERSON IN THIS HOUSE—"
"I'll be out in a fucking minute! ¡Callate!"
Claudia slammed the door just as quickly as she had opened it. Marthe was now shaking the doorknob as she shouted.
"DO NOT USE THAT MAN'S LANGUAGE IN THIS HOUSE! —YOU'RE HIDING SOMEONE IN THERE, YOU LITTLE RETARD! AND WHEN I FIND HIM, YOU'LL SURE AS HELL GET—"
Adrien open the door this time. As Marthe reached her hand in, he grabbed her wrist. To put it simply, Marthe Perreault was that odd blend of disgustingly ugly and conventionally attractive—long lashes on slightly bulging eyes, crow's feet and smile lines on a perfectly shaped face, sleek straight hair in an unflattering bun, so on and so forth. Not like it mattered either which way, of course.
Adrien mustered up what little he had left of that princely, elegant voice he used in commercials:
"She's done nothing wrong. I'll be on my way shortly."
Marthe was taken aback, but only for a moment. She ripped her hand from his grip, before staring daggers into Claudia. It meant two things: One, Marthe had made the correct assumption that Claudia had bagged a 'wealthy boy' and incorrectly assumed that she had done so purely with her body; And two, that Marthe thought Claudia had intentionally set this 'boy friend' up against her for spurious reasons.
"You better," Marthe spat. "And if I hear in the news she's gotten some boy like you—"
"Mom, it's not like that," Claudia lied. "She's just a friend of mine."
"Emilie," he added on. "I just needed to stay the night."
"...A dyke, then." Marthe had gotten to the point where she had lost all interest. “Or one of those transvestites. …Get your ass out of here before I call the police.”
So, they made their way out the door—Adrien first, then Claudia after once she’d packed a messenger bag full of supplies. Things that weren’t as valuable as the usual array: A bottle of water, the last snacks left in the house, an extra scarf, so on and so forth. Not like it would’ve been stolen either way, given that Adrien always made sure to be on the same side as it when they walked together so the bag would be sandwiched between them. It meant he could get a closer look at the bag, too—This faded charcoal leather with rustled buckles and decorated with plastic pins, a brooch of cranberries, a Tokio Hotel pinback button, worn corners on the edges of the bag, nicks and scratches on the sides…
“Why Emilie?” Claudia asked. She had to turn around to talk to him, the both of them stopped on the stairs of the second floor.
“…I don’t know,” he replied, even though he very much did. “Just a reflex. I used to get called it a lot as a little kid,” Adrien gestured to demonstrate about how tall he was at that point in time, which was about to his hips. “So I just got comfortable with it, y’know?” Another lie. It made him sick that he’d used it himself after all this time. “…it stopped happening around when my mom died.”
“Wasn’t Emilie your mom’s name anyways?”
“…Yeah. That’s what I mean.” Plus, it mostly happened when he and his mother were in the same room. Mostly by photographers at that, sometimes by relatives, occasionally his own father. That last part he could never really explain to himself.
They both started walking again, nearly out the door.
“Sorry about my mom, by the way. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“No, no, it’s fine,” Adrien said. “At least I was called something new this time. After all, once people stopped calling me Emilie, they started calling me a—“
“...faggot?”
“…Yeah. That word.” Adrien wasn’t sure if he was grateful that he didn’t have to say it or offended that she did.
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tags: @myriadmi @cutepastelstarsalior @dayochoco
(these are just people i cross-referenced with the ao3 kudos! if you want to be added to the list or taken off, please tell me!)
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approaches the altar and places one of these ✿ bad boys down!!! for either doc or ophelia, whichever strikes the fancy! (i will gobble up whichever you throw at me <3)
meme || @outofthiisworld
// choosing ophelia for this one 'cuz we've got something going with doc already (i prommy i didn't forget that thread i will get back to it once the sleep gods stop punishing me for my hubris 😭) PLUS i think it'd be kinda funny if they were aware of each other now that doc's mentioned her in ur last reply. (lamby vc) Oh you know her too? I've heard ALLLL about you peepaw... <- guy who is very joking voice. ok hi
FRIENDSHIP. childhood friends / work buddies or coworkers / family friends / friends with benefits / smoking buddies / adventure buddies / fake friends / recently friends / party buddies / friendship of need / dying friendship / circumstantial friendship / partners in crime / old friendship /[your muse] is the good influence / [your muse] is the bad influence / [my muse] is the good influence / [my muse] is the bad influence / opposites attract / ride or die / frenemies / roommates or flatmates / penpals / exes to friends / enemies to friends / other (pocket god pocket god!!!)
ROMANCE. childhood sweethearts /[your muse is mines] childhood crush /[my muse is yours] childhood crush / exes / exes to lovers / forbidden lovers / highschool sweethearts / secret relationship / opposites attract / long distance / unrequited [from your muses side]/ unrequited [from my muses side]/ unrequited [from both sides]/ skinny love / friends to lovers / enemies to lovers / spurious relationship / power couple / newly entered / soulmates [ metaphorical ]/ soulmates [ literal ]/ awkward / turning toxic / toxic love / cheating [on your muse]/ cheating [with your muse]/ other
FAMILIAL. siblings [half] / siblings [step]/[my muse] is an older sibling figure to your younger sibling figure /[my muse] is a younger sibling figure to your older sibling figure muse /[my muse] is a parental figure to yours /[my muse] is a child figure to your muse / guardian figure / legal guardian / adoptive child / foster child / [your muse] is taken under mines wing /[my muse] is taken under yours wing / other
ANTAGONISTIC. dangerous to each other / dangerous to others / unpredictable / rivals / petty / developing into sexual or romantic tension / based off family matters / based of off circumstance / based of professional matters / based off misunderstanding or lies / conflict of ideology / betrayal / hero - villain dynamic / enemies / fight club / friends turned enemies / lovers turned enemies / exes turned enemies / other
idk, my silly ass just sees them both being functionally immortal and going thru their own shit and wants them to be goofballs together u get me? i think lamby could use someone who can kinda understand some of their struggles while still having a (relatively) more lighthearted outlook on life...plus they're big on pranks too even if i don't get a lot of options to show it off, so i just. well. i see them being horrible little menaces together!!! ghosts and death just kinda fit well together, tho i could also see them causing problems for one another too...so i guess it really depends on if you have a preference for verses or vibes lmao. i can have them play both an antagonistic or friendly role either way!
#outofthiisworld#divine intervention [ooc]#// is this thing on. does this make sense. Can anyone hear me hello#'' mod do not fill out pre-established relationship memes on 6 hours of sleep challenge'' (failed) (impossible)
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CHAPTER 2
The time for the ball has finally arrived. There were hustles and bustles as hems of dresses swept to the floor. It is nerve racking indeed, to be named as the Diamond of the Season by the Queen, Daphne Bridgerton is trying her best to keep up with it and she shall be.
"Mama, is Anthony not coming with us?" Daphne asked as they were about to enter their carriage
"I believe he is still taking his rest, dearest. Don't you worry, Benedict will be there for you" Lady Bridgerton assured her eldest daughter and all Daphne could reply is a small weak smile.
Somehow, she hoped that her eldest brother shall be feeling better by the time that they were about to leave but it seems like luck is not with her today. With a defeated sigh, Daphne turned her body from the house as her second brother, Benedict Bridgerton smiled at her.
"To be honest, I am deeply wounded that you prefer to have Anthony as your escort rather than me" he playfully stated which made the young lady chuckle
"But fret not dear sister, I shall do my best to keep you company tonight assuming that none of the bachelors were bold enough to come to you, as I will be deeply scrutinizing them wit--"
"Perhaps you double think your words, Ben" all of the seven Bridgertons glanced back to their house entrance only to find the eldest Bridgerton marching towards the carriage.
"Anthony!" Daphne squealed as she ran towards Anthony only to be stopped halfway.
"I prefer you my dear sister to maintain your distance and elegance. You look extremely wonderful and beautiful, Daph" Anthony complimented which earned a hint of red color in Daphne’s cheeks
"You too, my dear brother. You look like a fine man in your clothing, very much unlikely with the other one you tried to fix earlier this morning" the Viscount made his way to his family as he nodded to his mother
"Are you feeling better, dear? You know you can just stay in the house" Laey Bridgerton said as she examined her son's face
"Much better, Mama and I told you; I shall be feeling better before you could even go to the ball" the Dowager Viscountess smiled as she cupped the face of her eldest
"You sure did" she whispered before letting him go
"You've killed my moment brother; I was so ready to escort Daphne to the ball tonight" Benedict's spurious pained voice made Anthony chuckle as he gently pats his shoulder
"Maybe some other time, dear Brother" Anthony stated which made Benedict frown
"Well, I think two escort brothers are better than just one, isn't it?" Daphne chimed in as she smiled at them
"Or perhaps three?!" Colin suddenly emerged out of nowhere between Benedict and Anthony as he put his arms around his two brothers.
"It is much better indeed to have three escort brothers for tonight's ball" Daphne concluded as she curtsied to her brother
The four eldest Bridgertons giggled to themselves as their mother watch then in awe. She put her hands over other four children and gave them each a kiss on the forehead. But then, their little moment was cut off when the footman announced that it is now time to go.
"We shall be home as soon as possible" Lady Bridgerton farewelled to her remaining four children who only waved their hands to them.
Anthony, Benedict, and Colin climbed to their carriage while Daphne and Lady Bridgerton climbed to the other. The carriages started moving and the Bridgertons were now on their way to the Danbury Estate.
The Danbury Estate felt much livelier and more colorful than any other occasion. One by one, guests started to arrive as the ballroom began to be filled with numerous debutantes and bachelors.
Lady Danbury is making her way across the room as she greeted the guests one by one. Everyone's face is carved with big smiles and laughter as they enjoyed themselves.
Just as the Lady made her way near the door, it was called open, and it revealed the most anticipated family of the evening. Every eye landed towards the door where the Bridgerton family had just made their entrance.
Daphne was in the center, both arms linking to Anthony and Benedict while Colin had his Mama on his own. Whispers ensued as they all stared at the Diamond of the Season. Daphne felt her breathing hitch as she and her brothers walk inside the hall being greeted by Lady Danbury firsthand.
"My utmost delectations for your acceptance of my invitation, Lady Bridgerton" Lady Bridgerton curtsied to her
"Miss Bridgerton" Daphne did the same
"Viscount Bridgerton" Anthony bowed his head in respect
"And the honourable Bridgertons" both Benedict and Colin bowed their heads to Lady Danbury as they all smiled to each other
"If there's one to be honoured it will be us, Lady Danbury" Anthony replied which made the Lady smirk
"Will you be dancing with someone tonight, Viscount Bridgerton?" it completely caught Anthony off guard as Daphne release herself from him as she was being led by her mother to the other side of the room
"Perhaps I will, Lady Danbury" Anthony replied which occasionally glancing over Daphne's figure
"Brilliant. I shall introduce you to my niece" Lady Danbury said as she place her arm midair waiting for him to take it
"Who?" Anthony was caught off guard as he was busy following Daphne's figure that he almost forgot that Lady Danbury is still talking to him
"Are you saying that your mind has been flying off to somewhere else while I am speaking?" the Viscount suddenly felt cold along his nape as he glance back to Lady Danbury who's now wearing an unamused look.
"My deepest apologies, Lady Danbury. I was just looking after my sister" Anthony confessed
"Leave your sister be and accompany me"
"Yes, Lady Danbury" with one last regretful look, Anthony took Lady Danbury's arm and he escorted her towards the other side of the room, far from where Daphne and his family are.
The first music of the night sounded as Anthony and Lady Danbury made their way to the crowd. Soon enough, the dance floor was filled with bachelors hopefully finding their suitable wife and debutantes who's also hopeful in finding their suitable husband.
"Pardon me, Lady Danbury, but who are we looking for?" Anthony asked as they both stopped at a certain pillar of violets
"So, you're admitting that your mind is flying off to somewhere. What an impertinent man" the Viscount found himself internally laughing at the Lady's remark
"My deepest apologies again, Lady Danbury" Anthony replied instantly as Lady Danbury release him
"Such a frivolous child, I told her to stay here" the Lady muttered under her breath as she scanned their nearby surrounding
"Perhaps we should carry on our walk?" Anthony offered trying to imitate the Lady's gestures but actually failed to register what or who she had been referring to
"Perhaps" Lady Danbury muttered before giving her arm again
Anthony gladly took it and they were about to leave when a small voice called out for them, or more like Lady Danbury's. The two of them turned around trying to find the source of voice until they noticed that some of the people are looking up
"What are these people looking up for?" Lady Danbury asked curiously as she and Anthony followed them suit
Up in the balcony was a lady that no one in ton had ever met or seen yet. All men were captivated by her presence as she made her way down the stairs, including the Viscount. Lady Danbury can't help but to smile inwardly as she waited for her to arrive.
There were offering of dances, whispers of greetings and praises but the the young lady paid no attention. Anthony found himself following her through the crowd as she finally came into their view.
"There you are. You surely knew how to make a talk for yourself" Lady Danbury commented as she stood by her side
Maybe it was the trail of his fatigue but Anthony was so sure that he felt the whole world suddenly halted as his eyes stared at the beauty in front of him. Surely, he just stated earlier this morning that staring is rude but how can you not to such wonderful sight? Anthony had never seen such beauty in his life.
He didn't even realize that Lady Danbury had already move and his arm is still hanging in the midair
"Viscount Bridgerton!" Anthony finally snap back to his senses as he blinks several times. Lady Danbury was staring at him with an unamused look as he cleared his throat in the process
"Forgive me, Lady Danbury. It must have been the trails of my fatigue that had occured this morning that's why my mind is constantly...flying off..somewhere else" Anthony breathed as he steal glances at the lady who only smiled at his antics
"Spare me with your excuses, young man. I want to introduce you to my niece, Miss Y/N Lovelace. Daughter of Earl Augustus Lovelace and Countess Amelie Lovelace, good friends of mine" Lady Danbury stated with a smile
"It is my pleasure to meet you tonight, Viscount Bridgerton" Y/N curtsied to him as Anthony tried to find his lost voice
"My utmost pleasure too" Anthony managed to say as he bowed in return
"I shall take my leave then" Lady Danbury smiled and immediately walk away
There was an unreadable atmosphere between the two until Anthony cleared his throat before offering his hand to Y/N.
"A dance, Miss Lovelace?"
To my dearest readers,
The season has finally begun with the initiation of the Danbury Estate who held the first ball of this season. This Author have also noticed that Lord Bridgerton may have taken a quite liking towards Miss Lovelace as the two are seen last night sharing not only one but two dances.
Surely, this may bloom to something else, it will be this Author's duty to know it first. After all, Lord Bridgerton has yet to find his suitable wife to become the Viscountess so to speak.
Yours truly,
Lady Whistledown
#anthony bridgerton x reader#bridgerton#bridgerton x reader#anthony bridgerton#bridgerton story#bridgerton series#violet bridgerton#benedict bridgerton#colin bridgerton#daphne bridgerton#eloise bridgerton#francesca bridgerton#gregory bridgerton#hyacinth bridgerton
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WIP Wednesday
Thanks for the tag @greypetrel and @scribbledquillz!
Here is a bit of a piece I've been working on about Fenris during Hadriana's death and the Act 2 romance scene. It's just about finished (if I can get out of my own way and stop adding more things to write onto the list haha) and I think the name is very clever, but I'll save that for when I actually post it.
Anyways! A bit longer than usual, but here it is:
Fenris paused at the top, just out of view of Varric’s room. He could hear Merrill and Hawke singing inside—Merrill’s voice high and melodious, Hawke’s stumbling over the Elvhen phrases—and for a moment the relief he felt was so shocking and immediate that he could not bear to walk into the room where someone might see. He may have closed himself inside with his thoughts these past few days, but the world had gone on moving outside.
What a relief it was to know that the world had gone on.
The singing dissolved into laughter as he crossed the threshold. The others were arrayed before him, Hawke’s legs slung over Isabela’s, Sebastian bent toward Aveline and Varric. Anders was leaning past Merrill to talk to Hawke, and though Fenris was frequently annoyed by the sight of them it was a comfort to see them all laughing together here.
“Well, look who finally made it,” Varric called over the noise, and Fenris slung a leg over the open end of the bench. “Looks like Hawke can stop making up reasons not to start the game.”
“I never,” Hawke protested, and took a long drink from her goblet. “These shpurious accusations will not stand! It was absolutely necessary—”
“Spurious,” Isabela said to Merrill across the table, waggling her eyebrows, and Merrill laughed.
“—that Merrill share her special music with me. Would you have her abandon her culshure entirely? For shame, Varric.”
“For shame!” Isabela chimed in, though she’d been teasing Hawke moments ago.
“Yeah, yeah,” Varric rolled his eyes and pulled the cards toward him, shuffling them expertly.
“Hullo,” Hawke said, her back brushing against Fenris’s arm when she leaned back to look at him upside-down. Her breath smelled of spiced wine.
“Hello, Hawke,” he replied automatically, watching the glimmer of light in her eyes for a moment too long before he reached for the pitcher of wine. She brushed against him again when she swung her legs off of Isabela’s lap and took her cards from the table.
Her mannerisms and voice spoke to too much drink, but the jiggle of her leg as she surveyed her cards gave her away. When she was really drinking, Hawke was languorous and happy, often lying on whichever of her friends was nearest or clinging to their arms. This was an act—she must have some sort of target for cards tonight and the appearance that she was an easy target figured into her plan.
As he thought so, Hawke slid her eyes in his direction and winked. Fenris shook his head at her, hiding his smile in his cup, and waited to see what she would do next.
Watching her act unfold was almost entertaining enough to distract him from the amount of coin he was losing. Almost. When Isabela leaned over the table to say something to Merrill, Hawke deftly removed three cards from the pirate’s belt and boot and hid them in her own skirts instead. She caught Fenris’s eye again when she was done and smiled that odd, surprised smile she sometimes wore—as if she hadn’t expected to see him there.
Fenris tried to pay closer attention to his own cards, but he knew a lost cause when he saw one and gave up after the second hand. Already, they’d lost Aveline to her patrols and Anders had slid into her empty space to prod at Sebastian. They were only playing cards out of inertia at this point, minds focused more on conversation than money.
Or—this was true of most of them, anyway. Hawke raised her bet each time the round came to her. The second time, she did it with her head pillowed on her arm, voice sleep-thick and echoing against the wood of the table.
It was too hard to look at her; Fenris stared into his near-empty cup instead, holding the laugh in even when it scratched at the corners of his mouth to be let out.
Tagging (no pressure as always): @heniareth @zenstrike @ndostairlyrium @demandthedoodles and @star--nymph
#wip wednesday#maria hawke#long post#my writing#this is uh. the happiest moment in this whole fic lol. it's tragedy all the way down before and after this#shivunin scrivening
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Clay Jones, Claytoonz
* * * *
A forum devoted to former White House adviser Stephen K. Bannon’s right-wing radio show alerted its 78,000 subscribers to “very strange new details on Paul Pelosi attack.” Roger Stone took to the fast-growing messaging app Telegram to call the assault on House Speaker Nancy Pelosi’s husband an “alleged attack,” telling his followers that a “stench” surrounded mainstream reporting about the Friday break-in that left Paul Pelosi with a skull fracture and other serious injuries.
The rush to sow doubt about the assault on Pelosi’s husband illustrates how aggressively influential figures on the right are seeking to dissuade the public from believing facts about the violence, seizing on the event to promote conspiratorial fantasies and provoke distrust. This is how fascists create the chaos they see as their route to taking power.
Dinesh D’Souza demonstrated this in a post Sunday morning to his 2.5 million Twitter followers.
“The Left is going crazy because not only are we not BUYING the wacky, implausible Paul Pelosi story but we are even LAUGHING over how ridiculous it is. What this means is that we are no longer intimidated by their fake pieties. Their control over us has finally been broken.”
And the despicables who follow him cheered that, posting “Amen!” as their reply.
Scores of other tweets included claims that the attack was a false flag, including some responding directly to messages from the House speaker. “@SpeakerPelosi Accountability is coming. Tired of your Lies and False flags. Your Treasonous.” Another wrote, “I don’t know why the Paul Pelosi story falling apart is such a surprise. False flag attacks are a common tool of the left.”
Wendy Rogers, the far right Arizona Republican state senator who was involved in he fake electors sceme in Arizona, has set fundraising records in her state while aligning herself with right-wing extremists. On Saturday she shared a spurious Amazon listing for a “Paul Pelosi Fake Attack Novelty Item Headpiece.”
Former Trump White House aide Garrett Ziegler directed his more than 125,000 followers on Telegram to a meme sexualizing the assault.
At a campaign event for a Republican Congressional candidate, Virginia Governor Glenn Youngkin - the slimeball who proves Stephen King was right when he said “the best monsters have their fur on the inside” - took a similarly callous approach. "There’s no room for violence anywhere, but we’re going to send her back to be with him in California."
The right-wing media has spent decades building a huge audience for these sorts of convenient conspiratorial fantasies. And their regular denunciations of the mainstream press built a bubble to keep out reality so that only the right’s commentators can be trusted.
Eric Swalwell put it well: “Sadly this attack was inevitable. Political violence is on the rise. And instead of GOP leaders condemning it, they condone it with silence or, even worse, glorification.”
[That’s Another Fine Mess]
#Corrupt GOP#Criminal GOP#That's Another Fine Mess#political#Right Wing Lie Machine#political cartoon#Clay Jones
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Waking Up- Chapter 9
AO3 FFN Beginning of story | Previous Chapter
word count 8276
Many thanks to the amazing @abradystrix for betaing!
Previously in Waking Up:
Ron aces his Combat Readiness Exam #1- Duelling - he does not see it that way. He meets other Auror recruits- it does not go well with Ramona Higgins.
During the Auror exam he was taunted with 'I'll torture Hermione' and realizes he told no one about her- and assumes they found this out from his therapist, Aarti.
He's incorrect and finds out he's quite famous and his accusations were spurious.
He's convinced he's going to be failed now for his actions.
He has a lovely smutty time with Hermione, but is still not telling her about the Aurors
he later tells Harry about CRE #1 before trying to sleep- can't- so he heads downstairs to keep watch
Chapter warnings:
cursing, intense therapy session, unpacking trauma anxiety and negative self-talk, allusions to violence and trauma, crying and vomit mention
CHAPTER 9 - ANOTHER ROUND
“Ron?”
He felt a nudge in his side.
“Hmm?”
“Ron, dear. You fell asleep on the sofa. Do you want to stay here or go back to bed?”
“Huh?”
He opened one eye and saw his mum standing over him.
“Are you doing alright?” she asked, sitting at the foot of the couch. She was right next to his shins, as his feet hung off the sofa by half a foot.
“M’ok,” he said, unable to meet her eyes. “How ‘bout you, Mum?”
“Oh, I’m fine, dear,” she replied with the wane smile she’d plastered on so much the last few years.
He thought back to the other morning with the paper she’d tossed into the fire.
“Mum? Have you… Er— Have you been reading the papers? Seen the photos from Fred’s—”
Her expression turned immediately wrathful.
“I’m assuming you have now too?” she asked.
Ron nodded. “Have you and Dad been keeping the papers away from us?”
She didn’t bother to look guilty, which he was grateful for. His mum had few ways to protect her kids anymore— he might as well let her have this.
“Those people are- are— it’s just incredible that they think doing something like writing gossip using funeral pictures is remotely appropriate! I ought to hex every single publisher!” she groused, before turning a worried brow his way. “How long have you known?”
“Since yesterday.”
“Oh, I knew your father and I shouldn’t have left! The moment I do then—”
“I found out at the Ministry.”
She made a ‘tcha’ at the back of her throat. “We wanted to tell you when things were a bit calmer.”
“I don’t mind. I told Hermione too. We’re both fine,” he assured her, sitting up to pat her hand. “Bit miffed with the news of course, but what’s new?”
“They weren’t all bad. There were some lovely articles praising you that I kept.”
“Oh yeah?”
“If there’s one good thing from all this, it’s that people are giving your due praise for your part in things.”
“That’s what Hermione said.” Ron gave a small smile before yawning, “Whatime’sit?”
“About half past eight?”
“Oh shit!” Ron blurted, ignoring his mother’s admonition for cursing. He ran up the stairs, not caring if he made a terrible clatter, and flung his door open.
Harry sat up with a, “Wha’sgoin’on?” as Ron frantically changed clothes.
“Fucking late for fucking Aarti,” he said, hopping to get his jeans on while looking for his second trainer. “Where the fuck is my other fucking shoe? With the sodding lines at the fucking Ministry I’m going to be— FUCK!”
Ron gave a growl as he tossed his mattress up to see under his bed, spilling the contents of his bedside table across the floor.
He gave a yelp as Harry poked him in the knee with the missing shoes. With a muttered thanks he frantically jammed his feet into his trainers, not bothering to tie them.
“Fuck-fuck-fuck!” he cursed under his breath as he ran down the stairs.
“Ron? Where are you—“ asked a bleary-eyed Hermione, hair ruffled as she blinked at him from her bedroom door.
“Late for a workout,” Rom supplied, before pausing. She looked so cute when she was mussed like that. Should he tell her more so she wouldn’t worry? Make a better excuse? He didn’t have time, though. He settled for kissing her forehead before he ran down the stairs and Flooed to the Ministry.
The Ministry halls looked just the same as they had the day before. They certainly didn’t feel the same. Now he could sense the impact of fame.
People’s eyes would be trained on their paper, only to glance at him and then do second takes. Heads would turn. Conversations would briefly stop then fall into frantic whispers as they walked away. Snippets of ‘Potter’s best friend’ and ‘Weasley’ were everywhere. Had they been there yesterday? It felt like almost everyone was watching him traverse the frigid halls.
As he stood in line he spotted Robbie the security guard. Their interactions were making a lot more sense now. He’d been asking for Ron’s autograph that time with the signature, and was in awe of Ron knowing his name due to his celebrity.
This newfound celebrity probably contributed to the recruit Ramona Higgins loathing him. To her he was an entitled celeb who didn’t have to fight for his spot like her.
What a mess!
It was almost his turn when he felt a tap on his arm.
“Mr Weasley,” said a woman’s voice behind Ron.
He turned to see a woman, probably twice his age, smiling at him in an almost fawning fashion. Her arms were behind her hips making her chest jut out towards him.
“Your shoes are untied,” she demurred, looking up at him through her lashes.
“Yeah, I know,” he dumbly replied, turning back to the security desk. Was this what it was like for Harry all the time? It was exhausting being so observed. How could you ever relax?
Robbie waved him over and Ron quickly handed in his wand for weighing.
“Thanks, Robbie,” he said, wanting to hurry, not just for his appointment.
“You’re welcome, Mr Weasley!” Robbie chirped.
“Ron’s fine,” he said, getting his ticket.
“Oh, thank you, Mr Weasley!” he said, going red in the face as he beamed like Dobby getting clothes. Christ it was strange.
Ron took off at a brisk pace, almost more to escape the eyes watching him than to be on time for his appointment. He managed to be only a few minutes late. He had just finished tying his shoes when he was led to Aarti’s office.
Moments after he sat, Aarti came in.
“Hello, Ron. Would you like some tea?”
He shook his head. Trying to swallow down tea felt laughable. He saw the horrid little bird was in its usual loop in the window.
“How are you after yesterday?” she asked, taking a seat across from him.
“Not great,” he said, not seeing the point in lying. “And I’m still sorry I accused you of sharing what was said here. I really didn’t know about… all that stuff in the papers. ”
“I know. And I might not have helped you through it as well as I could,” Aarti said with a nod. “Perhaps we can start over and discuss it.”
“Sure,” he said, before hesitatingly adding, “Though, If there’s still a chance you’ll let me be an Auror still, could you let me know now?”
Aarti tilted her head. “What made you think I was going to keep you from the Aurors?”
Ron rapidly blinked.
“Well… I mean, I came in hot when I thought you’d told people about Hermione and her torture.”
“Would you say your response was reasonable?”
Ron looked away from her. “Not knowing what I do now.”
“But you didn’t have that information then, did you?” she asked. “You had evidence that suggested a betrayal of confidential information from a Mind Healing session.”
His knee bounced as he listened, unsure of how to answer.
“Given all this, along with your record and my observations on your character, there was never a question if you’d still be allowed in once I knew how in the dark you were about your level of fame.”
Ron wished he had that tea when he croaked out a hoarse, “Oh.”
“Pardon my candour, but I’ve noticed you have a tendency to think you’re going to fail.”
“Well, I have a history of it.”
“How so?”
Ron felt his face flush with shame as each of his many failings was forced to the surface of his mind.
“You heard me tell you about it the other day. I’m always fucking up…” She stared at him, waiting for him to expand on his answer. “Like with the cafe after Bill’s wedding, the Ministry break-in, or leaving Harry and Hermione when we were camping.”
“I don’t seem to recall you ‘fucking up’ in any of those instances. You saved your friend in the cafe, you managed to keep your cover the entire time in the Ministry, and you did something as innocuous as take a break from a fight? To me, I do not see any ‘fuck ups’?”
“That’s spinning it into something it’s not,” he explained. “I could have done more at the cafe instead of being roped up, I could have done more at the Ministry to help and maybe we would have gotten out of there without alarms going off, and with the fight… I had no business Apparating away from them. I didn’t mean it to be a short break— I said I was leaving! And I did…”
“So you meant to leave them and never see them again…” she said, as if combing out her tangled thoughts. “And then after that you got roped back together at some point. I suppose now you just haven’t been able to shake them. That must be quite annoying, Ron.”
“What?” Ron gaped at her.
“Harry and Hermione,” she said with a nod. “It must be quite a pain being stuck with those two, unable to rid yourself of them.”
“I’m not stuck with them!” Ron goggled. How could anyone think he was stuck with Harry and Hermione. They were… everything to him. In some ways they were his life’s purpose— most ways. Without them everything was a raw chasm he could feel in his chest. The moment he thought he’d lost them for good… he’d never grieved like that in his life before. When he thought he’d lost Hermione to Bellatrix it had nearly driven him mad. When he thought Voldemort had killed Harry, his heart had shattered. Everything in him was for those two.
“Forgive me—” she said with an airy hand gesture. “I thought you said you meant to leave them behind.”
“You’re twisting my words!”
“Then explain it,” she challenged.
“Things were mad,” said Ron, thinking back to that night. “The dark object was screaming in my head, and we’d just heard word about my family and it wasn’t good. I thought they didn’t need me. Would be better without me— and they might’ve been… I lost the plot that night. Don’t say I’m stuck with them! They’re important to me, they’re not just some pain in the arse.”
“You’re very protective of those two.”
“Of course I am. They’re important!”
“And you aren’t?”
“Of course not!” Ron snapped back.
An echoing silence permeated the room. Aarti sat back and stared at him.
Ron felt the a horrible burning begin in his eyes, which was stupid.
“Who are you not important to?” she quietly asked him.
Ron gave a hopeless shrug, He looked out the window at the blasted bird and willed himself not to look back at the Mind Healer.
“I have noticed a pattern with you, Ron,” she said, giving a long pause, seemingly for him to ask her a question. He didn’t. “The pattern is negative self-talk. I’ve heard you call yourself usless, say you’ve messed up or fucked up, and assume you’re doing the same here multiple times. Are you aware you’ve been doing this?”
Ron hesitantly nodded, not able to make his eyes meet hers.
“That troubles me. You’re a highly capable young man, Ron. I’ve heard glowing reports and evidence from multiple sources, including you. When I press you to tell me the facts I can see very clearly the sacrifices you made and what you achieved, but somehow you feel you are not at standard.”
“I’m not a lot of the time.”
“Everybody has their moments, of course, but I’ve seen little evidence of this in you.”
Ron rolled his eyes. “You don’t know my life.”
“Perhaps not…” she acquiesced before rising from her chair and heading towards a cabinet. Ron’s eyes followed her path with curiosity. “In your paperwork I remember you mentioning chess as one of your interests… Are you any good?”
“I’m not easy to beat.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” she said, bringing over a set. “Why don’t we play as we talk? You set up the board while I get some papers.”
The chess board was Muggle and looked well worn, with the plastic pieces chipped and scratched all over. Without asking he gave her white so she could have the advantage of the first move.
She sat back and opened her book of parchment, carefully thumbing back and forth through the papers before declaring, “ah! Here we are.”
She smiled and presented the parchment to him. He hesitatingly took it, grasping the paper as if it might jump in the air and bite him. Printed in green typeface was a CV of sorts. It listed his grades, awards, and achievements like Prefect and Quidditch Keeper.
“I can’t know everything in your life, but this seems like a very good set of achievements, Ron. And that’s not even mentioning individual acts of valour or who you are as a person.”
His head minutely shook at that.
She moved a white pawn forth, and he a black pawn, meeting it head to head in the middle of the chess board.
“Can you remember when you first felt disproportional feelings of inadequacy?” she asked, moving a white pawn to take his black.
How had he managed to be stuck in a room with someone asking him questions like this? Was this some sort of torture devised by the Aurors to break a man? Because this… fucking sucked. There were few options at his disposal. He could attempt to distract her from her current line of questioning— but it would be exhausting continuing to evade her. He could sit in silence the rest of their session— but he’d never done well in silence if he didn’t have a way to occupy his hands. He could leave— but that wouldn’t highly recommend him to the Aurors.
As much as she denied it, she had his fate in her hands. And then there was the fourth option— he could engage her questions; an idea that made him feel like a bug about to be pinned through the thorax and put under a glass curio case. She saw right through him, as sure as the locket had; but where the locket burrowed its way inside him to eat him from the inside, she seemed to genuinely want to help him. What an odd sensation to feel, especially with someone he barely knew. Disproportional feelings of inadequacy… He wasn’t sure his feelings were disproportional, really.
“I dunno…” he finally replied, taking her pawn. He tried to think of a moment when he hadn’t had a pervading sense of self doubt. “I guess I’ve kind of… always felt inadequate?”
“Is there a time you can remember not feeling that way?” she asked, her bishop flying across the board.
Ron shook his head moving his queen across the board. “Check.”
“Surely some time in your childhood?” she asked, moving her King from check.
“Not really. I mean I have five— had five older brothers, all of them amazing, and then there’s my little sister.” The two started moving pieces in quicker succession. “I knew Mum wanted a girl and not me— overheard my Aunt Muriel saying so when I was about five, so then it just kind of left me— the kid she didn’t want in a long line of boys, who had a lot to live up to. I was just ‘another Weasley.’ Even the Sorting Hat called me that… If I did as well as my brothers it’d be no big deal as I’d be the third or fourth one to do it, and I was never going to be able to do anything that they hadn’t done.”
“But you were able to do many things they didn’t do, weren’t you?”
“Well yeah,” he said, sacrificing his pawn to take her bishop. “but that’s just because I’m friends with Harry.”
“And anybody could have taken your place and done what you did? Been Harry’s friend in the line of fire?”
“Kind of?” Ron thought back through the roster of possible mates for Harry from their year.
Dean was every inch as easy-going as Ron and just as accomplished with a wand. Seamus had his arseholish tendencies, but he could’ve filled in fine. Even though Neville was a bit of a duffer when they were young, he ended up being even more of a badarse than Ron had ever imagined.
“Yeah, I think almost anyone in Gryffindor could’ve taken my place.“
“Do you feel that Harry, Hermione or your family would agree with that?”
“Probably not, but that’s just because they’re loyal like that. I mean, they’d tell people Hagrid’s a good teacher, when he’s shit. Not like I’m better, I do it too, but,” Ron gave a shrug.
“Let’s explore this,” said Aarti, sitting forward in her seat and taking his rook. “You say anyone could have taken your place at any time. You were friends with Harry for seven years. During that time was there ever an opportunity for someone else to take your place?”
Reluctantly Ron told her of the row in fourth year, when he thought Harry had abandoned him and entered the Tournament without Ron.
“And at that time did any of the other Gryffindors befriend him?”
“No. It was pretty much just him and Hermione.”
“What about Hermione, did she make close friends besides you and Harry?”
“Kind of,” Ron said, with a little smile thinking about the persnickety first year with giant hair and attitude for days. “She’s close with Ginny.”
“So she’s close with your sister… Did she meet her through you?”
“I guess?” he said, “Oh and she’s as close with Neville and Luna as I am. Not best friends— but we’re mates.”
“Why do you think Harry and Hermione did not make other friends?”
“It’s not like they’re not great. And Harry had other friends. He was really popular in sixth year. And he always got on well with the Quidditch team too. Hermione… Well she doesn’t get on as easy as Harry does. Smart and a touch bossy is not the best combo to win over a flock of teens. But if I wasn’t there, I’m sure someone else would’ve eventually taken them up.”
“And same for all those exploits? Someone would have taken your place?”
“If they’d known about the exploits, sure,” he confirmed, looking at the chess board. “Check.”
She wasn’t looking at the board, instead she was staring at him with a discerning look in her eye.
“You’re a good chess player,” she said, toppling her king. “I forfeit. There’s no way out, right?”
“Right,” he said with a nod.
“Chess players have to be able to see a lot of potentials. If I move here, then this piece could move there or there”
“Yes…” he responded slowly. “That’s generally how it works.”
“To me, it feels very similar to our sessions. These meetings of ours seem to be full of potentials. I mention something you did,” she said, setting up a pawn and knight, “and you say anybody else could’ve done what you did.”
She took the pawn with a knight.
“We discuss an event, and you say you could’ve done better; could’ve done more,” she said, knocking over more pieces with the knight.
“You like winning chess, don’t you?”
“Yeah…”
“Imagine if we never celebrated that win, and saw every game of chess as nothing but a series of losses,” she said, toppling all the pieces over regardless of colour. “That seems like a very painful way to see the world, don’t you think?”
Ron’s ears reddened and he stared at the board, pieces all on their sides.
“Harry and Hermione didn’t choose anybody else to be their best friends and partner. They chose you. They trusted you. Befriended you. Why do you think that is?“
“I have no idea,“ Ron said, throwing up his hands.
“Perhaps they see you as great as you see them?”
Ron knew that wasn’t true. There was love and trust, but there was always the assumption that Ron wouldn’t measure up as easily as they would. He had confidence in them for nearly everything. He wasn’t unrealistic or fawning- but anyone with eyes could see how effortlessly amazing they were.
By contrast he knew they did not have that same feeling about him- how could they? He had a spotty record and let his nerves take over. He was… fine, when you averaged it out, but far from the steady stats of Harry and Hermione who rarely performed at anything other than remarkable in their chosen skills.
There was trust in Ron - trust that he would listen, follow them, love them, provide them with comfort, keep their secrets, and do what was needed; trust he eroded with each squabble they’d had and perhaps forever scarred with the help of the locket.
Aarti began to pick up the pieces of the board she’d knocked over. She set up more and more pieces until the board was almost perfectly arranged.
He felt a small choking sensation and cleared his throat. “If it’s ok, I think I’ll take that tea now…”
She got up and made a pot in silence. After he’d had some tea she said, “I had a cancellation after your session. We have more time to talk, if you’re willing. Ready for another round?”
“Of chess or your questions?” he snorted.
“Both.”
He gave a weak nod, and they began again.
“So, which piece do you have the most affinity for?” She asked, moving a bishop.
“Hard to choose between knight and king.”
“Why those?”
“Erm, well they’re both sort of tied to memories I have.” He explained the ‘Weasley is our King' song, as well as the giant chess set he’d sacrificed himself on in first year.
“Have you always had a pattern of undervaluing your personal safety?”
Ron’s hand stilled on his rook. “I don’t feel I do that.”
“No?”
“It’s not that I’m undervaluing my safety …” he moved his rook across the board. “It’s like with chess. Certain pieces have different values and sometimes you need to make sacrifices to protect the key for success. I just know when it’s best to make that choice.”
“How many times have you decided that you are the one who needs to be sacrificed?”
Ron did his best to contain his scowl as he dubiously responded, “A few times…”
“I wonder if there is a connection between how you value yourself and how often you feel it’s necessary to sacrifice yourself.”
“That is not the case,” Ron assured her.
“If you might indulge me,” she said sitting back from the board, “You implied or outright said how unimportant your safety was multiple times today and in our last session. For example in our last session, you said your time with Snatchers wasn’t ‘actually bad’ because it was ‘just you.’”
“Yeah, because in one case Snatchers led us to Malfoy Manor. Hermione was tortured and nearly died, Dobby died and Voldemort himself almost showed up. That is far worse than anything that happened to me.“
“What did happen to you?” she asked as he took another of her pawns. Ron’s hand gave the slightest shake as he moved her pawn to the growing pile of pieces. “You took me through every detail of what happened at Malfoy Manor, but weren’t as giving about your own confrontation with Snatchers.”
“It’s not important.”
“You say that about many things concerning yourself,” said Aarti with a nod. “But if you are willing, I would like you to walk me through what happened, because I believe that it might be more important than you think.”
Ron took a shaky breath. “Some things… I mean some things aren’t good to talk about, right? Like, it can’t help anything to harp on the past.”
“I agree that fixating on something is unhealthy. Do you worry you’re harping on this memory and that’s why you don’t want to discuss it?”
Ron shook his head and looked out the window. “It’s stupid, really.”
She quietly sat back, giving him space to talk or not talk. She was good at that.
“We’ll, maybe not stupid… I don’t... I don’t know if…” Finding real words for what had happened was as unfathomable as suddenly using hands to run and feet to do spells. His lungs felt shrivelled and fragile as he tried to speak. He shook his head uselessly. “I dunno what to say.”
She waited before saying, “Perhaps we can start with the fight you mentioned?”
Shame coiled in him, cracked and peeled- painful and hissing.
“I can’t remember everything we said…”
“Sometimes when we’re trying to remember things it’s easier to start with describing our surroundings than what was said… What were your surroundings like?”
“It was raining…” he began, voice hollow.
At first it was difficult to get through it, remember every bit of the fight, Hermione screaming after him to come back. It burned through him, made him want to crawl out of his body and run.
Then he Apparated.
“It was misty and really cold. I’d Apparated to this little stump I used to hide at when I was a kid…”
Then Dementors came. Then the Snatchers. And somehow he told Aarti about it.
He didn’t cry or make a fuss. He just… said it. Every embarrassing, nauseating and putrid moment. Every moment he’d tried to scrub clean from his mind.
He hadn’t dared to look at Aarti as he talked. He didn’t want to see the look on her face. He was certain disgust and pity would be directed at him—
“And then I Apparated to my brother Bill’s place. I recovered a few days, then started searching for Harry and Hermione and would Apparate back to my brother’s each night to sleep. Took weeks before I found them.”
He didn’t bother to explain the Deluminator. He didn’t want to tarnish it with those other memories.
“I’m so sorry you went through this, Ron.”
Ron’s shoulders twitched. “Not much for it.”
“How are you?”
He couldn’t feel anything other than a keen need to shower and scrub away at himself until he was pink and raw.
“M’fine, I guess.”
“I’m proud of you.”
He looked up, startled.
“You seem surprised?” she said.
He knew his scepticism must be broadcasting full blast.
“You survived a very dangerous and horrifying situation, and did an amazing job keeping yourself and your family safe. On top of that you were able to discuss it here today— both take a great deal of personal courage.”
Ron shook his head.
“If it’s alright, I’d like to have you stay a bit longer so we can talk about recovery and what steps I want to take forward with you here,” she said, going to a file cabinet and retrieving a packet of papers. “We can meet once every week or so and go over these to help you…”
“But I’m fine,” he croaked looking at the papers.
“I have never liked the word fine… People who use that word rarely are,” she said, handing him the packet. They sat and talked through the packet bit by bit, Aarti explaining what it was for, what PTSD was, and how the packets and therapies could help him. He took in every other sentence, his mind occupied.
“You can choose not to do these therapies, but I won’t clear you for full Auror duties until you have. It doesn’t have to be with me, but you need to complete these or something akin to them with a licensed Mind Healer. You need care and support. Plus there are far too many possible triggers awaiting you in future Auror cases and it would be irresponsible of me as a Healer not to help you navigate this safely.”
“That doesn’t feel like much of a choice,” he said, taking the papers.
“And I’m sorry for that, but these are the circumstances we have.”
He weighed the packet and flipped through it. Phrases like ‘stuck points’ and ‘navigating maladaptive beliefs’ stood out.
“Will I still get to continue my C.R.E.s?” Ron asked, voice frail.
Aarti looked at him in contemplation, lips pursed as she stared at him.
“For now,” she slowly said, “The C.R.E.s are a somewhat controlled environment. I haven’t seen signs you could be a danger to yourself or others, but we will continue to assess and monitor your mental health through this process, and if there are any concerns we will take you out of the exams until you’re ready. I’m not deeming you ready for full Auror service, though, until you have completed a course of cognitive behavioural therapy.”
Ron nodded, weighing his options. Having to open up and go over what he’d told her sounded exhausting, but it would be even worse to have to do it with a new Healer.
“I’m fine doing it with you,” he said quietly.
Aarti gave a small smile, then began packing the chess set away.
“Then your homework is to fill out the first part of this packet and we’ll discuss it in our next session. Wednesday?” He gave an affirmative bob of the head, shrinking the papers down and putting them in his pocket. “Good luck in your C.R.E.s. I know it’s hard not to internalise this as pressure— but even if you’re temporarily pulled, you’ll still get to return to exams or full Aurorship in a fairly short period of time.”
Ron gave a shuddering sigh. He wasn’t sure if that would delay the signing bonus or not, but didn’t want to push.
“You seem disappointed,” Aarti commented.
After everything else he’d spilled, the normally taboo subject of money was easy. He described his need to help Hermione, and the costs associated with finding her parents.
“Have you considered talking to the Family Reunification Department?”
He shook his head.
“Are you familiar with what it is?”
“Yeah. My brother Percy is in that.”
“From what I hear, your brother is the man leading it and he’s the best resource in the department. I would consider discussing it with him.”
Ron hadn’t thought to reach out to his brother. They weren’t exactly close. Sure they’d mourned beside one another and Percy came home a day or two per week for dinners, but they didn’t have anything to talk about. He was fairly sure the task of discussing things with Percy would be laborious in the extreme, but for Hermione it would be worth it.
“I’ll try now, since I’m here,” he said, and Aarti gave him directions to the Family Reunification Department.
It would be easy to just go home and take a nap, but the idea of putting off helping Hermione made a muscle in his jaw twitch.
Even though Percy had worked in various departments at the Ministry, Ron had never visited him. They had never been particularly close once Percy had left home for Hogwarts, and they hadn’t spoken more than a few sentences since Ron’s fifth year.
His older brothers, sans the missing George, had easily fallen back in with Percy, but it was more difficult for Ron and Ginny. They’d not gotten on well with Percy to begin with and had much more keenly recognised what his betrayal had done to their family. They’d been through multiple battles without him, years of growing up, and he’d noticeably not been there to comfort them through their Dad and Bill nearly dying.
It stung, having to ask something of him now. If fate weren’t such an arsehole it would be Percy in this position, not Ron.
Trying to keep his bitterness at bay, Ron walked through the winding directions until he finally reached Percy’s door. The gold placard had a piece of paper in Percy’s neatly lettered handwriting.
Family Reunification Department
Percy Ignatius Weasley
With trepidation, Ron knocked.
“It’s open,” he immediately heard from inside. With a sigh, Ron opened the door to see Percy at his desk, politely putting his quill aside before sitting up straight.
“Ron!” Percy let out, mouth agape in surprise. He looked exactly the same as he always did- neat and tidy, hair combed just right.
Percy continued to stare, gobsmacked, before finally coming to.
“Come in, come in,” Percy gestured, standing from his chair and seating them both in the guest seats.
Ron flopped into the chair, and his knees pointed up to the ceiling in the low hung chair. Feeling ridiculous Ron waved his wand to make the chair a bit bigger, then sat back down in it. If he was going to be asking for favours he wasn’t going to do it folded in half on a tiny chair.
“Would you like something to drink? Some tea perhaps?”
“No thanks,” Ron said, fingers nervously fiddling at a hole in the knee of his trousers.
The last time he’d talked to Percy alone he’d been fifteen. That felt about three lifetimes ago now. Ron’s shoulders felt so tense he thought they might pop his head off if he didn’t get it over with.
“So– ” “Well!” They began at the same time.
Percy’s mouth twitched a bit.
“What brings you here, Ron?” he asked, voice carefully neutral.
“Hermione,” Ron said quietly before staring up at Percy. “I’m here for Hermione.”
Percy nodded, but didn’t speak. That was odd for the usually loquacious brother.
“I’m going to need your help with ‘family reunification’ for Hermione,” Ron told him, giving Percy a level look. If Percy tried to refuse Ron he might have to deck him, no wand required.
Percy shifted in his seat and said nothing. His brother was acting oddly reminiscent of Dad in the moment, the way he quietly waited for Ron to speak his peace. Satisfied that he would be able to speak without interruption, Ron began to state his case.
“Before we left to help Harry, Hermione needed to keep her parents safe. She modified their memory so they don’t know she exists, they have different names, and are off somewhere in Australia. Even Hermione doesn’t know where, because she didn’t want Voldemort,” Percy flinched, “and his lot somehow getting to her parents through us.”
“That is some amazingly complex spell work for a teen not even out of Hogwarts,” Percy said, shaking his head in amazement.
“You don’t know the half of it,” said Ron with a humourless laugh. “She even put some spells on them to make them untraceable by owls. I’m at a loss as to where to start, because that was my first thought. Just get to Australia and send an owl with a tracker on it, or a Portkey could work to get at least one of them back. Hell, even follow it on a broom.”
“There are definitely some other methods our office can help you with,” Percy began, and the years of fury he’d held back from his brother came bubbling forth.
“I don’t want your office on it, I want you on it,” Ron spat.
Could he show an ounce of loyalty? Ron had never asked for anything from his brother since he was about eight, and frankly he owed Ron for the years he’d fucked off. He wasn’t even asking for a big favour- he was just asking him to do his goddamn job! He’d heard Percy talk about his job the last month — how hard he’d worked for strangers, the gruelling hours of paperwork and letters and contactings different departments.
As much as Ron wanted to drop-kick his brother off a precipice, Percy had the upper hand in this negotiation. Ron steadied his temper, trying to put on his most magnanimous façade.
“I know how hard you’ve been working for all these other families,” Ron calmly explained, “and you’re the guy to see on this. That work might be pressing, but Hermione is more important than any of them, and has done more for winning this war than anyone except Harry.”
“I know,” said Percy, putting a hand up in Ron’s face.
Fuck being magnanimous.
“No you don’t know,” Ron said with a shake of his head, anger blazing in him. He wrenched himself from his chair and walked towards the one window, putting as much distance as he could between himself and his brother. His brother didn’t know him. His brother didn’t know Hermione. Didn’t know what she was worth and how amazing. He’d not been there. He was just as shit as the reporters talking about her in the papers. “You don’t know. No one can really ever know! Harry and I wouldn’t be alive if it weren’t for her ten times over. We all owe her so much. This stupid bleeding government owes it to her. Every person you know owes it to her. She’s been through– ”
Ron abruptly stopped himself, unable to discuss it.
Percy didn’t know what it was like out there. He was safe in his office almost the whole war. He had no idea the harsh conditions had been, what it was to run for your life every day, or the literal torture endured. No one would truly understand what Hermione and Harry had done for everyone, and how they should be down on their knees thanking them.
Percy’s window had a view onto the same pretend street as Aarti’s. It was just as fake and out of place here as it was there. If Ron ever managed to be an Auror with a fake view he’d tear his window out immediately.
“Does Hermione know you’re here?” Percy asked in a gentle tone Ron didn’t think him capable of.
“No,” he said, blinking and glancing at his brother. “I’d like to keep it that way until things are more sorted. We have some time, at least. She’s barely said a thing about getting her parents back.”
“Why is that?” Percy confusedly asked.
“She’s keeping to herself for a lot of reasons,” Ron said with a shrug. Percy didn’t deserve to know about her. He hadn’t earned the right.
Ron turned a discerning eye to Percy. Perhaps it would be a good idea to tell him about her. Maybe it could convince Percy to help.
He moved the pieces in place.
Talk about how great Hermione is for the family. “She hasn’t talked about it much, but I know her. Honestly, part of it is that she wants to be here for me and our family, but I won’t let her do that.”
Tap into the whole disappointing the parents thing since Percy is still raw about his relationship with our parents. “And I know she’s afraid of how her parents will react when she undoes the memory charms she put on them. She’s dragging her feet to avoid that.”
Talk about money problems that anybody who grew up poor could get. “Then the other day I found a piece of parchment where she was doing the maths for how much it would cost to find her parents, and it’s a lot. She doesn’t have anything but the clothes on her back and a pile of books. Even her old house is just sitting there empty.”
Ron couldn’t very well leave it at that though. As much as he needed Percy’s help, he didn’t it to seem like he was sitting there doing nothing
“I want to take care of as much of this as I can for her so she doesn’t have to think about it. I’m broke as hell, but they’re recruiting me to be an Auror. The recruitment signing bonus should cover a lot of the costs. I already have another job lined up I can make some money at, so the galleons part I can get done. I just need your help on the ‘finding them’ end of it.”
Percy began to smile. “Ron, you don’t have to worry about the money. I can– ”
“I’m not taking one sickle from you!” Ron snarled. He honestly thought he was asking for money?
“And you won’t have to,” Percy said firmly, putting a placating hand out. “I can do some paperwork.”
Ron rolled his eyes. Great. Paperwork. A fat lot of good that had done him lately.
“There’s a discretionary fund for helping with the costs of these things, as so many people simply can’t afford portkeys and travel expenses after the war. ” Percy quickly continued, nervously eyeing Ron. “Australia’s government has been accommodating as well, so I’m sure our office can have this sorted fairly quickly. When Muggles travel internationally they leave a long paper trail, and then when they move they have to register with the Muggle government. Unless they’ve decided to ‘live off the grid’ as they call it, her parents will probably only take a few weeks to locate, perhaps less if we pressure their government. Given Hermione’s importance in the war, I’m sure Kingsley would make that happen.”
“How do we know Death Eaters didn’t use this method to track them down already?”
“Well, things were rather chaotic last year. It’s so easy for forms to get lost. And they didn’t want anything to do with Muggles, so if a few of us accidentally forgot to inform them of the pathways within the Muggle governments to find people… Well… That was only a natural outcome of a busy Ministry,” smiled Percy.
Ron felt himself begin to smile. Maybe Percy hadn’t been quite as lost to them as he’d thought, even if it was something as silly as forms.
“Led a little office rebellion, did you?” said Ron, barely stifling a laugh.
Percy glared.
“The ones who got caught ‘accidentally’ withholding information didn’t just get a slap on the wrist. You saw the dementors all over the place when you broke into the Ministry last year, I’m sure.”
“Right,” said Ron, holding up a hand. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to undermine what people risked here.”
He thought over what all Percy had laid out. “So… So that’s all there is to it then, for Hermione and her parents?”
“Yes,” said Percy.
Ron suddenly felt a bit off balance in his seat. If he’d been standing he was sure his feet would have faltered.
“I thought this would be a whole lot harder,” said Ron, a numbness taking over.
“Just a whole lot of paperwork,” said Percy before quickly adding, “which I’m happy to personally do for the both of you.”
“Fuck,” Ron let out against his will. “I just knew it was going to be another horrible hard to do thing…”
His breathing began to pick up.
“I’m not used to things going easy on us… Is that really it?”
“That’s really it.”
Ron nearly collapsed. He sank until his head was in his hands and his body started to shake.
He wasn’t even sure why. This was good news, right? He could finally help Hermione! The money didn’t matter. He could stop and relax and… Ron thought he might be sick. He wasn’t sure if he was laughing or or on the verge of crying.
Percy did the decent thing and busied himself with paperwork. It took a minute for Ron to gather himself and give a wobbly “thanks” before wiping his face and shakily forcing the feelings back into his roiling gut.
“Of course,” said Percy with such earnestness Ron was a bit taken aback.
Not long ago his brother was all affected pretension, trying to make his accent more posh and his sentences more polished. He used to sit up so tall and prim too, as if to better look down his nose at people. That wasn’t the case now. His posture was a bit sunken, his expression was almost open. It was like seeing the Percy from their childhood: The brother who listened when Ron had questions, the brother who had taught him chess, who had given him Scabbers…
“I’m assuming you will accompany her to Australia to retrieve them?”
“Course I will,” Ron said automatically. There wasn’t a question of it.
Percy nodded. “So the Aurors, huh?”
“Yeah,” said Ron, looking at his hands trying to smile about it. It would be a miracle if he made it. “They must be off their broom for wanting someone like me.”
“You’re a bit of a hero, Ron. Of course they’d want you.”
“I’m a dropout who doesn’t even have N.E.W.T.s.”
“What good is a standardised test compared to your experience?”
The fuck?
“Should I be asking you a security question? There’s not a Death Eater pretending to be my brother here, is there?”
“No.”
“Head injury?”
“No!” Percy said, letting out a short laugh.
“Sorry, just had to make sure. Percy Weasley saying tests aren’t as good as experience. I’ll have to tell Fred an– ” Ron cut himself off. The two forcibly ignored his faux pas.
With that, they went to work writing down all the information they could on Hermione’s parents: their real names, fake names, past addresses, profession and interests. Ron knew every answer, of course. They only had one address and he had memorised it years ago writing letter after letter to Hermione. As for little things about her parents, well it was easy enough to remember all of her stories. He loved it when she’d tell him stories instead of facts from books— facts could get old after a bit, but her animatedly telling him stories of her day, her parents, the little moments… Oh those he could listen to forever.
“I think that should do it, then,” said Percy. “I’ll submit the documents by tomorrow, and will update you as soon as I hear anything.”
“Thanks,” said Ron, knowing the word was woefully inadequate.
As he left he could feel something internally shift. Something raw and cracked coiled around him, slowly choking him. He quickly Apparated to a field near his home. Usually the sight of home would bring relief, but the choking sensation continued.
He sank beside a tree and a horrible sound came out of him, for only a moment. He clamped a hand over his mouth to stifle the sound as tears blinded his eyes.
“Stop it…” he gasped to himself, willing the burgeoning sobs to stop. He balled a hand into a fist and struck the earth as hot tears burned down his cheeks. With an earth stained hand he wiped at his face.
He wasn’t going to cry. Everything was fine. He was on the cusp of having answers for Hermione. It didn’t matter if he got into the Aurors now… He didn’t need the money. He could rest, and it was a good thing, and his stupid body had no reason to try to collapse and be wracked with sobs like he was a four year old child.
Mind made up, he took a deep breath through his freckled nose. “Don’t be stupid…”
Using Hermione’s mirror spell he checked his reflection and got rid of the ‘just cried like a little milksop’ complexion staining his face. He willed a neutral expression, and approached his tumble-down home.
Through the window he could see Harry and Ginny were sitting close on the couch, looking pleased. Harry’s arm was casually thrown around her shoulders as Ginny excitedly chatted at him. As annoying as it was to have his friend burgled away by his little sister, he was glad they’d so easily fallen back into being a happy couple. They made one another so happy. Ginny who’d grown a bit prickly and toughened softened when she was with Harry, while Harry, who was prone to bouts of snark and darkness, seemed lighter in her presence. It was gag-worthy, of course, but Ron felt that way more out of principle than actually believing it.
When they looked like they might kiss, Ron took it upon himself to announce his presence.
“What’s got you lot so chuffed?” he asked as he opened the door.
“Harry’s approved for the combat exams,” said Ginny, giving Harry a fond look.
“Of course he is,” Ron said stoutly.
“I have Duelling tomorrow, so that means we’ll get to take C.R.E. two and three together,” Harry said with a bright grin.
Oh great. Cherry on top of the shit pie.
He didn’t want the evaluators having Harry Fucking Potter held as a standard against him. And he certainly didn’t want to fail in front of Harry either.
“That’s brilliant, mate!” Ron gave Harry a hearty pat on the back. “We’ll smash it.”
“We’ll have to celebrate after,” Ginny said, launching into ideas on where they could go. Harry watched her with such unbridled fondness Ron felt the need to look away.
“Have you seen Hermione?” he asked, looking for an excuse to step out before they snogged in front of him.
“I think she said she was going to nap in your room,” Ginny provided, before continuing to lay out premature celebration plans.
Folding himself into Hermione’s arms would be the perfect balm to a day that had utterly gutted him. As he ascended the stairs he could already smell that fresh Hermione scent, see her soft hair fanning around her head, hear her melodic sigh, feel her soft body folded against him. He could slide into bed beside her and just breathe with her in a dozy state between waking and slumber.
The daydream abruptly popped as he opened his door.
Hermione wasn’t napping. Instead she sat on his bed. In her hands was his Auror’s Combat Readiness Exam schedule.
“How was your ‘workout’?”
End of chapter 9
Sorry for the cliff hanger! I'm about 7k words into the next chapter, with about 3-5 to go, because I write insanely long chapters :P
Next chapter is from Hermione's POV.
Thank you so much to all of you who review! I appreciate it so much and can't tell you how much it inspires me to continue this story- so thank you thank you!
If you enjoyed or have thoughts- let me hear them! :) And please reblog :)
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Date Night
Every other fortnight, at 10 pm on a Thursday, the Eva cages are silent. It is logged on the calendar as "Ego decontamination - highly hazardous," and it is specified that no unqualified personnel can enter the area until it is completed. Like so many other things at NERV this is a lie.
There is no team of highly qualified hazmat suited workers pouring over the Evangelions, there is only Gendo Ikari and Kozo Fuyutsuki. Ideally Gendo would be alone, but the plug system requires someone in the control room. If another person has to see his shame, it might as well be Fuyutsuki. They have shared so much worse together. Sometimes Gendo wonders if he might have actually made a friend.
The doctors Akagi know what Gendo does when he is alone of course. Neither of them would have tolerated being ignorant to the purpose for a completely spurious protocol within their hectic maintenance schedule. It was one of the many reasons the elder Akagi hated him. The younger one seems more understanding. They never talk about it, but she tolerates his behaviour the way one tolerates a partner's cigarette habit. Or their partner's need to make an appearance for their wife.
That's what it really is. Once a fortnight, when no one else is around, Gendo dons his own white plugsuit, climbs into an entry plug and spends an hour with his wife. He tells her of his week and how their son is growing up. Shinji has friends. Two of them. They're idiots who will never amount to anything, but still his son has achieved something that he never could and for that he is quietly proud. He tells Yui about the progress of his plans to rescue her and about how much he misses her. Alone in the darkness of the entry plug he often cries.
After an hour, Kozo removes the entry plug and Gendo emerges from the LCL. Kozo waits for him outside the decontamination showers and they have their brief conversation through the cubicle door.
"Any luck?" Asks the old Professor.
"No." Gendo replies without a hint of emotion in his voice. "How were the graphs?"
"No movement." Comes the reply.
The key to syncing with an Eva is the emotional bond between souls. Parental love is a strong source of this, it's what makes Asuka and Shinji such strong pilots. Even Rei manages to pilot an Eva based on the mutual hatred between her and Naoko Akagi. A complete unknown, chosen at random from the street and shoved into an entry plug should expect a sync ratio fluctuating between five and 12 percent. Gendo's remains flatly at zero.
"We still know very little of her mental state in there." Kozo rationalises. "It's a miracle she was even able to recognise Shinji as her son."
"I find it hard to maintain focus while I'm in the plug." Gendo admits. "I need to practice more on just reaching out for her."
"We just need to keep trying."
"This should be possible. Even the boy manages it, and he knows nothing about what's really going on."
Gendo and Kozo's original plan, when they first realised that Yui had been consumed by the Eva, was that Gendo would be the pilot. Yui's child would remain safe in the countryside, miles away from the violence that would soon engulf Tokyo-3. It took over a decade, and the discovery that Rei and Unit 01 could achieve a (low) synchronization before they conceded defeat. Despite Gendo's evident love for Yui, the pair could not sync. Neither Gendo nor Kozo voice their suspicion about the obvious explanation for Yui's apparent rejection of him.
In actuality they're wrong to be worried. Or at least about this. Yui did care about Gendo. A bit. At least enough that, if she allowed it, he would be able to fight moderately well within the Eva, but that would not fit into her plans. The ancient prophecies are vague in many places, but some things are so evident that SEELE felt safe to release the information to the public over two millennia ago. In order to save humanity's souls, God must sacrifice their only son. And if there must be a God, Yui intends it to be her. Yui can allow Gendo no alternative: Shinji must pilot the Eva.
#ficlet#evangelion fanfic#Evangelion#neon genesis evangelion#neon genesis Evangelion fanfic#nge#fanfic#ikari gendo#gendo ikari#yui ikari#ikari yui
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You know, I went and sent an ask, but then I figured I could just reply in the tag to speed things up, so whatever. I'll just type it out again.
Hey, anon? I ran the "just set the McDonald's we're in on fire" tag for a bit (only like a day, too, so I'm surprised it's annoyed you so badly), and actually, it's not a one-liner. If you DC'd too quickly to see my starter and decided to come up with spurious assumptions instead, that's on you, buddy.
It comes with a script-style starter that's fairly complete, with multiple lines, including an IC rant and other details. While it's a dumb tag for sure, it 1. Is a perfectly accurate way to describe my premise, 2. I don't see why I can't have a laugh at my own tags, and 3. I am also perfectly serious about writing through the rest of the arson-related details, if that's the direction things go in. I'll even write a whole string of gory crimes with you, in fact, so c'mon, don't be shy. I've been told my gore isn't half bad.
Like, sorry I'm not pounding y/c's ass with my massive fat bitchbreaker 3 seconds in, I guess? Lighten up.
Seriously, though. You're telling me you can rp your wildly profane 50-inch-dick barrels-of-cum vore-inflation-raceplay-slime whatever's, but it's suddenly a federal crime if I want to rp something with a tag + starter that amuses me?
It's a flippant starter written in a facetious way about a serious crime. If there's one direction it's easy to take it in, aside from pure crack or dark comedy, it'd be old fashioned psycho!mods, and guess what? Coincidentally, I'll write those, too.
Because...surprise? I have an arson tag and like writing about crime and other such dark details? Utterly shocking, I know.
You can be equally blasé. You can react in fear and horror. You can try and make a break for it. You can pour more oil. You can blackmail m/c with jail. So many options, and yet.
My inbox is open. Feel free to rail at me for the cardinal sin of playing crack seriously.
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✿ for finn and aphrodite maybe
❥ @rimefiles : send me a ✿ and i’ll fill out the template below. ━━ always accepting !!
bold for things i could definitely see or want, italics for things i could see or am unsure of and striked out for things i don’t want or cannot see.
FRIENDSHIP. childhood friends / work buddies or coworkers / family friends / friends with benefits / smoking buddies / adventure buddies / fake friends / recently friends / party buddies / friendship of need / dying friendship / circumstantial friendship / partners in crime / old friendship / [ your muse ] is the good influence / [ your muse ] is the bad influence / [ my muse ] is the good influence / [ my muse ] is the bad influence / opposites attract / ride or die / frenemies / roommates or flatmates / penpals / exes to friends / enemies to friends / other
ROMANCE. childhood sweethearts / [ your muse is mines ] childhood crush / [ my muse is yours ] childhood crush / exes / exes to lovers / forbidden lovers / highschool sweethearts / secret relationship / opposites attract / long distance / unrequited [ from your muses side ] / unrequited [ from my muses side ] / unrequited [ from both sides ] / skinny love / friends to lovers / enemies to lovers / spurious relationship / power couple / newly entered / soulmates [ metaphorical ] / soulmates [ literal ] / awkward / turning toxic / toxic love / cheating [ on your muse ] / cheating [ with your muse ] / other
FAMILIAL. siblings [ half ] / siblings [ step ] / [ my muse ] is an older sibling figure to your younger sibling figure / [ my muse ] is a younger sibling figure to your older sibling figure muse / [ my muse ] is a parental figure to yours / [ my muse ] is a child figure to your muse / guardian figure / legal guardian / adoptive child / foster child / [ your muse ] is taken under mines wing / [ my muse ] is taken under yours wing / other
ANTAGONISTIC. dangerous to each other / dangerous to others / unpredictable / rivals / petty / developing into sexual or romantic tension / based off family matters / based of off circumstance / based of professional matters / based off misunderstanding or lies / conflict of ideology / betrayal / hero - villain dynamic / enemies / fight club / friends turned enemies / lovers turned enemies / exes turned enemies / other
i'm pretty down for anything ngl i adore finn from what i read on him n he's very interesting !! i do still need to reply to ur starter but !! modern verse things would be fun also !! she's pretty down to earth n friendly tbh as far as idols go, she likes to help out others n everything n network, she's just very social so i wouldn't put it past her to reach out at some point even at awards shows or concerts etc. or even they could run into each other n start talking from there perhaps or even if they were under a same label sort of thing :thonk: or even rival companies sort of things. i'm a big weakness for idol things n just cute scenarios that end in more if that's ur thing too or if ur interested in heading that way with them at any point
#rimefiles#[ im dead weak for idol things pls dnasjkm ]#[ i havent got to use that verse much if at all so id be happy to get to kinda of flesh it out too !! ]#[ i put a million italics cause idk n im shy but im open for anything !! ]#━━ ❥ answered »
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