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sirensmojo · 3 years

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"An Art Signed By Shelby" Hubby! Tommy Shelby x Reader

Warnings: Big Fluff.

{gif credits to @cillianparadise from this post}

Summary: Tommy being so obsessed with you he keeps staring at you while you work.

A/N: I wasn't truly present on Tumblr as I am moving out and all... But I'm still working on my next multi-chapter fic about the arrange marriage tho!

*Masterlist*

*Arrow House*

Tommy was never the type to trust people, whether it was professionally or personally, he was restless. He wanted to have a hand on everything and everyone, but not because he was power thirsty, no. It was because he thought he was the only one who could bring everything to the people he cared for, his family.

Deep down, you always knew this part of himself was just that, a part of him and that somewhere else there was a Tommy that wanted someone to take care of him the way he took care of everything and everyone.

It may look like he was distant and absent-minded, always lost in thoughts and that he only cared deeply for his own comfort over anything else, but it didn’t take you long to see clear in his shenanigans.

“I can take it from here, you have a meeting with Arthur and the women tomorrow, you need to sleep.” You let out, already focus on the tones of papers surrounding the desk.

You would never let him do all the paperwork alone. Of course he didn’t want you to go on the field, he didn’t want you to be in any sort of danger, he just couldn’t lose you, and you understood that, but paperwork was safe, and his mind was so clouded at times that he could barely sleep if he was up too late at night.

That’s why you would take over when it was only papers, you could manage some papers for your dear husband. He didn’t need other wrinkles at the corner of his eyes, and you wanted to preserve him as much as you could.

You were sitting behind the huge desk of his office, while Tommy was seated right in front of you, in one of the two armchairs facing the desk with a cigarette hanging at the edge of his fingers.

His eyes staring at each of your movements, from the way you grabbed the pen to the way you were writing and signing documents. He wouldn’t miss that scene for anything in the world.

Tom will never admit it, but having you entering his space was maybe the best idea ever. You were brilliant, with numbers and with strategies. You could even see through people’s bullshit which helped him from time to time from getting fucked up.

There was a time when he wouldn’t even let you go to the betting shop by yourself, afraid you might be approached by some men wanting to hurt him through you, but with time, Tommy learned to trust you.

As hard as it was for him to accept it, you could manage a lot of harsh and desperate situations with a disconcerting serenity. And he somehow knew he might be overthinking even more than usual when it was about you.

He at first thought you were too naive to see and sense danger, but it turned out you were just capable. You could handle enemies and he just had to get used to this.

You never ceased to pressure him to let you inside business, he couldn’t understand it then, but he ultimately got that you needed it to feel like a part of the Shelbys.

Add to that your determination to “ease the burden a bit” as you would say when he grabbed your waist, putting his head on your stomach as he was holding you close. In those moments you would simply run your fingers into his mane and fondling his neck tenderly while humming a lullaby.

His eyes met with the golden plaque with his name on it and he patted it, “Going to put your name there one day, eh?” His eyes lift to yours a quick instant, before he got distracted with the smile drawing on your lips.

You shook your head faintly before putting a strand of hair back behind your ear, to Tommy’s greatest pleasure, “Y/N & Tommy Shelby.” You paused quite satisfied, “We’re quite a team.” You giggled, and his facial expression changed, as well as wrinkles appeared at the corner of his eyes, he was smiling.

He hated when you said that you were easing the burden, because he knew you were doing more than that, he knew you were more than that, more than just an associate, more than just a wife, you were his Y/N, his Shelby and the value he gave you couldn’t be counted.

But each time you would say that to him, he felt as if you were standing in the shadow of his heart screaming that you weren’t afraid of his darkness, and that simple idea that you were accepting him despite all, was enough.

Not only were you taking charge of business when he was occupied with something else, but you were also perfectly taking care of the house and its matters.

Everything was in order under your management, and he knew he didn’t need to worry about a thing when you were in charge.

The door opened on a maid, “Your children are at table waiting for you Mrs and Mr Shelby.”

“Thank you, Brie. We will join ‘em in a minute.” You answered, not even lifting your gaze from the paperworks.

Numbers were filling your eyes, clouding your mind and making your ears steam, but that was worth it because it was for your Tommy.

The maid gave a look to your husband before looking back at you, “If I may, Mrs, working at night will wear out your eyes.” That’s only when your head got up, and that you offered her a warm smile.

“We will drink tea in the living room after dinner, I will rest there.”

Your maid nodded to you, genuinely satisfied you will not work as late as usual.

It was a habit with you, to always provoke people around you to care for your well-being.

When she got out of the office, your eyes dropped into Tommy’s, and you knew he wanted to say something, “Go on, honey.” You muttered before returning to your papers.

From that smile you gave to the way you looked at your maid, it seemed like you were determined to finish all your paperworks before dinner.

It’s true you would always take into consideration the advice of your staff, but when you had something to do, you wouldn’t stop until you were finished, so you would always find a compromise. Most of the time you would finish your work before supper so after it you would satisfy them by resting in the living room, relaxing afterwards.

It was your technique, this way your staff felt heard, and you wouldn’t have to torment them for them to listen to you. It was a win-win scheme.

Tommy always was admirative about your way of dealing with things and keeping everyone satisfied, and that was the reason for his coughing, desperately wanting to dismiss the wave of feelings rooted inside of him.

Your husband got up, exhaling deeply and you glimpse him walking to the counter before returning and putting a cup of whiskey right under your nose.

His fingers went fondling your cheek softly before he cupped and lifted it so you would be looking at him, “Get it done before 9, else I can’t assure your children will wait after that.” He muttered, his lips only inches away from yours. His icy blue eyes were staring at your slightly parted mouth, an urge to feel your lips against his building inside of him.

You closed the space in between your lips in a hurry, and were met by Tommy’s hands, grabbing your head as his thumbs were stroking your skin.

Seconds later, gasping for air, you pulled away, both of your foreheads still connected, “The children have more of you than me, Tom.” You stole a kiss from him, the call for him being too loud, “Their impatience is your legacy.” You smiled against his mouth.

Tommy scoffed and straightened back up without responding to your teasing. He turned on his heels and walked away, a hand in his pocket, and you would swear to God that at this moment, another smile was on his lips.

It always made him laugh how devoted you were to the business, even though he didn’t want you to know a single bit of it in the beginning of your marriage. Now, he would often sit in front of you without saying a word while you were working. Just staring.

It wasn’t everyday that you would see him looking at something with that much of a sweet face expression.

He, who was always so tense and cold, was sitting in front of you, intently looking at you with nothing in his icy blue eyes other than tenderness.

When you and Tommy started to be “a thing”, never would you ever thought of it to be serious, you knew his ways with women, or should you say you heard of it. Who didn’t hear it in Birmingham?

Each time you would bump into one another in the streets or in pubs, you would realize how intensely he was eyeing you, he was simply devouring your entire being with his eyes.

You thought of it at first as lust, but the more you got to see each other, the more you noticed he never wanted to get too close to you, to touch you or to talk to you more than needed.

He just wanted to stare, as if you were some kind of piece of art from which he tried to uncover its most deep and unknown truths.

You would pay anyone in the world to know what was in his mind during those hours he would spend watching you do paperwork, but you could only imagine, and you let yourself believe he was simply proud of you, for taking his burden when you judged he was working too much.

If only you’d be in his mind, you would understand that Tom was no more than bewitched by you, each of your moves ignited something in him he could never recall, because each time he would see you, you would bring him something different, you would make him feel different in the most pleasing ways.

He felt accepted, welcomed and loved around you, he felt like he belonged. And that was huge for a man like him to be able to feel that.

He wasn’t even the type to feel things, but here he was, his skin burning like hot coals whenever your sharp eyes would cut him like razors would. The only difference being that the scars you would leave on him would instantly get healed by the warm embrace your simple presence would bring him.

You were indeed a piece of art to Tommy, and even if he would never be able to put words on how your beauty and grace burnt down the earth beneath his feet, he was still able to make you feel some tenderness through his glassy eyes, it was his way of telling you he loved you, and that he was grateful for having someone that cared about his health.

You were his most precious thing, an art signed by Shelby that he will keep close for as long as you will want him still.

HUBBY! TOMMY SHELBY TAG: @theamuz ;

TOMMY SHELBY TAG: @captivatedbycillianmurphy ; @theamuz ;

PEAKY BLINDERS TAG: @retromafia ;

(ask me if you want to be in one of the tag lists)

#Hubby! Tommy Shelby x Reader #husband Tommy Shelby #Tommy Shelby x Reader #Thomas Shelby x Reader #Peaky Blinders

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inkyblinders · 3 years

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Dancing with the Devil: Part II

Part 1

Pairing: Luca Changretta x Reader

Author’s note: This was so embarrassing to write not because of smut...but because I’m crushing hard on Adrien Brody right now. And I can’t even share this obsession with anyone because… he’s kinda niche? Someone please reassure me that I’m just going through a phase because dear God why can’t I stop watching Darjeeling Limited just to see him ahhh.

The story picks up right after the end of Part 1, so I recommend reading that first. Comments, likes, and reblogs are always appreciated, let me know what you think!

Summary: Following your meeting with Luca Changretta, you face the Shelby family and Tommy's reaction. (2.6k words)

Warnings: Smut, angst, swearing

Tag: Let me know if you would like to be added or removed

@anythingwriter, @rrtxcmt, @shut-chan

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You barely make it into your bedroom before he is all over you. The buttons of his crisp, tailored shirt fall like marbles. He moans when you nip the skin of his neck, right over his tattoo of the black cross, legs tangled together like a depraved waltz.

When he grinds into you, you shudder deliciously at the hardness that meets between your bare thighs.

How easy would it be for him to kill you after he fucks you, leaving your corpse twisted in the bedsheets. You know Tommy would find it when he eventually remembers that he has not seen you for days.

“Signorita, you know I come to you with the most honorable of intentions.” He murmurs, as if sensing your thoughts.

“You're not a very honorable man then.” A laugh that turns into a gasp as he trails his hand lower and strokes between your legs. No, not very honorable at all. And pretty soon all thoughts of honor are forgotten as he coaxes a moan from your throat.

His fingers are magic. The cold outline of his onyx rings scald your skin each time he crooks a finger inside you. Knowing exactly what you need, seeking your depths, swirling, rising to rub the clit, all the while exploring the flushed expanse of your body with his other hand.

Shoulder to breasts to hips and back again.

Without meaning to, you’ve let this stranger take control of your entire being. But God, do you crave this pure ecstasy.

It’s as if he wants to know precisely how much you can take before you're undone. So when you clench around his hand and feel the familiar ache he is right there, helping you ride the wave of pleasure, never breaking the rhythm of his thrusting fingers even as you curse, rake your nails down his back.

You almost cry out his name when you come. But you bite into his shoulder instead.

“Sweetheart, I’m gonna have to hear you next time.” He growls.

His words barely register as you come down from the high. Aftershocks spark like tiny flames. Now you are wearing his scent as much as he is wearing yours.

“Be inside me,” You whimper, tugging at his soft hair, urging him for more.

He rasps an empty warning, “What's my name, sweetheart?”

Of course. All this time you've never acknowledged you know of his identity. There was no use in trying to hide it now.

“Luca,” you breathe. And his eyes gleam with approval.

With a snap of his hips, he plunges into silky warmth. The fullness stretches you to your limit, head thrown back. It’s good, so good. Every withdrawal of his thrust is a blessing because you know what follows next. It’s him inside you again, wrapping you with his touch and the scent of tobacco and roses.

“Does your Tommy fuck you like this? Like the way I do?”

“He’s not mine.” You choke out, punishing Luca with a bite on the neck that elicits a chuckle rather than a yelp of pain.

He kisses you, your foreheads pressed together. “A damn shame for him.” Soon he starts to quicken his pace, going faster, more erratic, his breathing heavy upon your ears.

Yes, you urge him, come on, now.

And this is your chance. In a flash you roll on top of him, pinning down his shoulders with your hands. He tries to arch up but you stop him with a knee.

“How many men did you bring, Changretta?” You ask, making your voice rough to mask the lust, pressing your hands around his jugular.

It's a pleasure to see him like this. Shocked at your actions, maybe even scared. Naked with want but unable to do anything to relieve it. Unless he tells the truth.

“Fifteen. Why baby, am I not enough for you?” He laughs breathlessly, hands trailing goosebumps along your hips, tracing the contour of your breasts. The jib doesn't hurt you. After all, men have said worse. He tries to surge into you again, and his hot member pulses on your thighs.

“Do you swear on your honor? That you’re telling the truth?” You insist, squeezing him harder. The touch brands his skin as much as it brands yours.

In a voice full of self-mockery he says, “Yes I swear on my honor. Now let me in, clever Isabel.”

You take him in you, the sensations amplify a thousandfold. You try teasing him, going slowly in and out, but soon you are caught up in the sensation of him completely at your mercy and you ride him, faster, until you keen his name, until he too is undone.

****

Through the haze of dawn, he stumbles out of bed and gets dressed. Before he dons his hat once more, Luca leans down to whisper in your ear, as soft as sin.

“You tell Tommy Shelby he may expect a visitor in the night. I'm coming for him as the angel of death. The vendetta has begun…” He kisses your hair.

“I’ll see you soon, sweetheart.”

The door clicks shut. You rise from your pillow, and a small, hard lump rolls next to your hand.

It is a signet ring of onyx and gold.

****

“So we all get a death letter from the mafia, but Izzy gets jewelry?” Ada huffs as the family filters into the betting shop. As usual, Tommy holds court at the front of the table, brooding over a glass of whiskey. You roll your eyes as Arthur and John try to cover their snort of laughter with a cough.

“If you want it, you can have it, Ada. He’s probably planning on killing me too.”

“Doubt it. You’re not a Shelby, and we’re the ones who killed his father. Well, someone did, to be precise.” She shoots a bitter look at Tommy, who doesn’t even have the decency to look ashamed.

Despite Ada’s matter-of-fact tone, the words cut to your heart. Not a Shelby.

It’s not her fault. No one knows you’ve been sleeping with Tommy, not even your dearest friend. It’s a lonely secret to keep, but at least you can look at the family square in the eye and not have to worry about the things they say behind your back. Or worse, pity you.

You can handle the violence and moral ambiguity of Tommy’s business. But to lose the love and respect of the Shelbys would break your heart.

“What was the mafia man like, Izzy?” Finn asks eagerly. It’s obvious the boy is thinking of the dashing, gun-wielding gangsters he’s seen in the pictures.

“He was a wrinkly old brute. Kind of like your arsehole brother Tommy.” A smile to take the edge off the insult. But Tommy only looks off into space. As if he hasn't paid attention to this entire conversation.

Arthur clears his throat. “Now, let’s get one thing straight. It was me who pulled the trigger on his dad, so the blame falls on me.” He pats Linda’s hand even as his voice is heavy with guilt.

“No one’s blaming you Arthur, you weren’t the brains behind the operation, no offense.” Ada says. He is about to say something when Polly cuts in.

“Stop squabbling like children. We’ve all voted for truce, despite everything Tommy’s done to us—” The words nearly having us hanged hover pointedly in the air. “—So let’s focus on the matter at hand." She fixes Tommy with a sharp look.

“What’s the news from Camden Town? Will Solomons help us?”

“No.” He says tiredly. And all of a sudden you feel sorry for teasing him. He look gaunt. There are shadows under his eyes, even more so than usual. Without you to remind him to eat, you can imagine his diet for the past few days consisted more of alcohol and cigarettes than anything substantial.

“Spent three hours on a fucking tour of his bakery and another pretending to drink his piss-poor rum. I think he was trying to get me sloshed so I’d forget what I came for.” Tommy rubs his head.

“He’s refusing to send his men to help. Said he’s not going to go after another oppressed people.”

“Did you tell him the Italians are rounding up Jews in their country as we speak?” Polly asks incredulously.

“Wouldn’t make a difference to Alfie. Besides, that’s just an excuse. He’s really just a fucking coward.”

Polly looks troubled at this, as does the rest of the family. Everyone had been counting on Alfie’s friendship with Tommy, however peculiar, to help them with the vendetta. What they hadn’t expected was his extreme sense of self-perseverance. How are they going to protect themselves now?

“Before everyone panics, I’d like to say something.” Tommy clears his throat, setting down the whisky.

“As you may all know, two nights ago our Izzy encountered Mr. Changretta in the Garrison. He bought her a drink and asked her to deliver an official beginning of the vendetta.” He chooses this time to finally look at you. You hold his gaze until he looks shiftily away.

“We can also assume that he has been scoping out Small Heath, looking for any weaknesses on our turf. Now, Izzy has something to share with you all.”

You stand up uncertainly. The last time a woman other than Polly tried to speak her mind at the table it had been Esme, who still refuses to come to the betting shop unless Tommy is not here.

“While Mr. Changretta was, er, indisposed at the Garrison, I found some items in his coat that I think could be useful.” You fish out a passport and a stack of papers from your skirt pockets.

“Good job, Izzy! Oh, I knew we could count on you more than my idiot brother.” Ada beams.

“Becoming a right little spy, eh?” John ruffles your hair good-naturedly. As everyone gathers around, Polly gives a low whistle.

“Goodness, if this is your definition of an ugly brute, I wonder who’ll really catch your fancy, darling.”

You flush. The documents were obtained shortly after Luca had fallen asleep. It was an exercise in agility, trying to extricate yourself from his tangle of limbs, especially when you wanted nothing more than to stay in bed, encased in his warmth.

To your own credit, the papers were highly useful indeed. Some were maps of Birmingham, circles drawn in places where the Shelbys are known to frequent. The Garrison. Charlie’s Yard. The Arrow House. There was also stationary from The Stanton, a hotel just outside of the city.

There had been another piece of paper in the stack, a letter. But you kept that for yourself.

“We all have Izzy to thank for bringing us this valuable information.” Tommy’s voice rises above the chatter. “I will be personally examining all the documents and think of a plan. In the meantime, everyone stay alert, stay armed, and stay together.”

“Now if no one has any further questions, I need to have a private word with her. Alone.”

*****

You twirl the onyx ring around your finger as everyone filters out. It’s much too big but you still wear it anyways. The thick band of gold is comforting in its own way. And despite what you told Ada earlier, you don’t want to give it to anyone else.

Tommy’s curt voice snaps you from your reverie.

“Was it good, then?”

A small muscle tics on the underside of his jaw. His previously blank expression is now cold. The coward in you compels you to feign ignorance.

“What do you mean, Tommy?” You ask lightly.

“Did it feel good to have that fucking wop inside you?”

You burst out laughing. “Christ, Tommy. Did you pick up that word from Alfie? You sound bloody ridiculous when you’re trying to be crass, you know.”

“Don’t fucking change the subject, Isabel.” Tommy snaps.

“Oh, so I’m Isabel, now? You only call me that when you’re trying to get me in bed. Is that what you want? A bit early in the evening if you ask me.”

“What I want for you is to tell me how it felt having that man inside you, inside---”

You blaze with anger. “My sex life is none of your business, even if you are an occasional participant. I did what you would have wanted, and now I’ve got intel on the Changrettas that could save your arse!”

“Do you know how dangerous it could have been? Fraternizing with the enemy is exactly what got us into trouble with the Changrettas!”

“And fraternizing with them again has given us an advantage. We know how many associates he’s brought with him, and where they are staying. Good God,” Your eyes widen as you see the mutinous look on Tommy’s face. “Are you jealous?”

The silence of the room presses in until it's almost palpable. Finally he rubs a hand over his eyes, looking utterly defeated.

“I have no right to.” He says, pained. “But I am, just the same.”

The admission of his feelings would have made your heart soar a few days ago, before you met a man who enchanted you in the Garrison. You only laugh bitterly.

“What makes this different from all those other times you made me seduce the men you wanted to spy on?”

He says nothing. But what else is there to say? The past is in the past, and so many hurts have been caused by the both of you, it would be impossible to untangle it all.

You soften your voice, laying a hand on Tommy's arm.

“Let me continue seeing him. He wants me, and we can use that. You know it will be help, you know it might save us all.”

A breath flutters in your chest as you wait for his decision. If Tommy allows it, you’ll do it in a heartbeat. The Shelbys are your family, whether you're one in name or not.

But if he refuses, then perhaps… Perhaps he might actually care for you, deeper than jealousy, deeper than he admits.

“Very well.” Tommy says finally, and something in your heart shatters. The corners of your mouth curve up in a wobbly smile.

“Thank you for trusting me, Tommy. I won’t let you down.”

“You would never let me down, no matter what you do. Just…Be careful, Izzy.”

He closes the distance between you and enfolds you in a hug. You enjoy this quiet warmth, as fragile as spider's silk. With a small laugh, you pull away, patting his arm before turning to the door.

You don't look back to see if he follows.

#luca changretta #luca changretta smut #luca changretta x reader #peaky blinders #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinder imagine #tommy shelby

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scarletemeterio-thesecond · 3 years

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r u open for sum douxie requests? Him Falling in love with king arthur's daughter💕who's innocent n kind but she isn't happy at camelot she wants to be independent n arthur's like NOPE so she runs away n meets douxie again centuries later n is now a total badass witch but she's sarcastic n mean cuz girl has been THROUGH IT😔 but slowly she warms up to him n falls in love with him all over again cuz with douxie she cant help but be soft💕😭 *u can ignore this ask if u want my English is bad😅*

i absolutely loved this request! i think i did things a bit differently but i'm a sucker for love and i couldn't help it lol. i loved writing this, thank you for requesting and i hope you like it!

•••

Back To You (Douxie x Fem!Reader)

Warnings: none i think

Genre: Fluff, some angst

Fandom: Tales of Arcadia, Wizards

Summary: See request

Word Count: 3379

Reader uses she/her pronouns!

•••

Being king Arthur’s daughter was already hard enough, but being a witch didn’t make things easier. (Y/N) loved magic, even if her father wasn’t a huge fan of it. She started taking an interest in it at a very young age, and her own aunt ended up being her teacher.

As (Y/N) got older, her magic grew stronger as well and even though she knew her father loved her, she could also see the way he looked at her sometimes; he looked at her like she was a stranger, a monster even.

Life in the palace was always a bit boring. The princess didn’t have many friends and most of the time would end up feeling lonely. But that all changed once Merlin decided to get a new apprentice.

They hit it off right away. (Y/N) was excited to have someone around her age close to her and the boy was happy to be surrounded by so many talented people.

But of course, he was a bit nervous about being so close to the princess at first, and he didn’t really understand why she was around so much until he saw her do magic. He was mesmerized and extremely surprised, to say the least.

‘’I didn’t know you could do that,’’ he said once the girl was done with her spell.

‘’What do you mean?’’ The girl asked.

‘’Well, you’re the princess and everyone in the kingdom knows that but it’s not known that you can do magic,’’ he explained.

‘’Oh,’’ she murmured, a bit sad but not surprised. ‘’Well, my father doesn’t really like magic so I guess he’s always been a bit disappointed at my love for it.’’

‘’Come on, why don’t we take a walk around the castle?’’ He offered, trying to cheer her up.

Their friendship grew stronger with every passing day, and it didn’t take long for the young boy to start developing feelings for the sweet princess. She was a really powerful witch but she still had her feet on the ground and remained kind as always; he loved that about her. He also loved her smile and the way she made him feel when they were together.

(Y/N) could tell that there was something going on with her friend; she noticed how nervous he got when she was around, the way he stuttered and blushed. She thought that it was very cute, and it didn’t take her long to realize why he’d been acting like that. But she was still afraid of being wrong, so even though she also had feelings for the boy, she remained silent.

They were oblivious about the way they felt about each other, but everyone else wasn’t. They pretty much acted like a couple already to the eyes of strangers, and also to the eyes of the king.

The relationship between Arthur and his daughter had never been worse. The more she practiced her magic, the more they grew apart. They’d barely talk to each other. (Y/N) hated this, she wanted to be close to her father, but she knew that it would be useless to try to work things out; her father disapproved of anything she did or said. She was supposed to learn how to be a proper princess and future queen, and soon it would be time for her to get married. So of course, her closeness to Merlin’s apprentice was alarming to Arthur, and he decided to confront her at dinner one night.

‘’So, tell me about this apprentice boy,’’ he said to her. He’d requested to have dinner alone with her, and they were seated face to face with each other.

‘’His name is Hisirdoux,’’ she mentioned. ‘’And is this what you wanted to talk about? My friend?’’

‘’Well, he’s not just your friend, right? Rumors travel fast inside the castle, my dear.’’

‘’We’re just friends,’’ she mumbled loud enough for the king to hear.

‘’You sound almost disappointed at those words,’’ he pointed out. He made a pause to drink some of his wine and then he looked at his daughter. ‘’I don’t like him.’’

‘’Here we go…,’’ she sighed and sank in her seat, not wanting to hear what her dad was about to say.

‘’He’s a wizard apprentice, (Y/N). Could you imagine what people would say if you even thought about being with him?’’

‘’What does it matter what people think? I can do magic, too, father. I know you’ve been hiding it from the rest of the kingdom, hiding me. I’m tired of being a secret, of not being myself.’’

‘’For the sake of the kingdom, you should get married to an appropriate suitor.’’

‘’For the sake of the kingdom? Why don’t you just admit that you can’t accept the fact that I’m a witch, father? Are you really that ashamed of me? Or are you actually afraid?’’ The princess said in a defying tone.

‘’Young lady-.’’

‘’No, you’re not gonna do this anymore,’’ she interrupted him. ‘’Why can’t you just accept me? It’s like you don’t even want me to be happy. Magic makes me happy, Douxie makes me happy and I’m tired of you trying to control me just because you can’t accept people who are different!’’ (Y/N) got up from her seat and started walking away.

‘’Where do you think you’re going?’’ Yelled her father.

She stopped walking for a second to turn around and look at him. ‘’Away from you,’’ she answered. What he didn’t know was that she really meant it; she would go as far away as possible.

…

Once she got to her room, she started packing some of her stuff, and when she was done she decided to write a letter. She knew she would go and say goodbye to Douxie, but she wanted him to know some things that she wouldn’t be able to say out loud.

A couple of minutes later, she was ready to go, to leave that place for good. It was late at night but she knew her friend would still be awake, so she decided to head over to his room. Just as she was about to walk out of her room for the last time, she heard some guards approaching. The princess cursed to herself but quickly remembered that there was another way for her to leave without being noticed, Douxie’s room and hers were connected by some secret tunnels they’d made with magic a while back, tunnels that extended throughout the entire castle.

Once she reached the boy’s door, she started knocking like crazy. Douxie opened the door almost immediately and even though he was happy to see her, he could tell that there was something wrong.

‘’(Y/N), what’s wrong?’’

‘’I’m afraid we don’t have time for that, Douxie. I don’t really know how to say this but I wanted to tell you that I’m leaving,’’ she said.

‘’What? Where?’’

‘’I don’t know, to be honest. Somewhere my father won’t find me, somewhere I can be free.’’

He was shocked, to say the least. Deep down, he knew she wasn’t happy with her life in the castle, but this news still surprised him. ‘’I’m going with you,’’ he said and started looking for some stuff to pack. She grabbed him by his shoulders and stopped him.

‘’No, Douxie. I can’t let you do that, okay? You still have a lot to learn from Merlin, I know you have potential and I just can’t take this opportunity for you.’’

‘’But I want to be with you, wherever you go.’’

‘’Trust me, there’s nothing I’d want more, but we can’t,’’ she paused to take a deep breath; she could already feel the tears forming in her eyes. ‘’I wrote you a letter, there are some things I’d like you to know.’’ She grabbed the piece of paper and handed it to him.

‘’(Y/N), please…’’ He begged, he didn’t even know what he was begging for, he just knew that the situation they were in was extremely unfair.

‘’I know my father will be here any minute with his guards, you have to pretend like you haven’t seen me, okay?’’ Her tears were already falling down her cheeks, and so were his. She grabbed the boy’s hands and looked him in the eye. ‘’Promise me you’ll do that, Douxie. You have to act like you have no idea about me suddenly disappearing, yeah?’’

‘’Yeah,’’ he nodded. ‘’I promise, (Y/N).’’

She wrapped her arms around his neck and he wrapped his around her waist, holding on to each other as if their lives depended on it. When they pulled apart, they pressed their foreheads together.

‘’Thank you for everything, Douxie. I’ll miss you so much.’’

‘’I’ll miss you, too, (Y/N).’’ They finally pulled away and she walked over to his door, hoping no one would see her. She opened it a little and when she saw that no one was around, she knew it was time to leave. The girl looked back to Douxie one last time and smiled at him. When she was about to leave, she heard the boy speak. ‘’I will find you, (Y/N). I won’t stop until I do, I promise.’’

‘’I can only hope you will,’’ she said before walking away.

…

(Y/N) was right, it didn’t take long for the king and his guards to get to his room. They were looking for the princess, but she was nowhere to be found, and Douxie was just as oblivious to the situation as everyone else.

After the guards made sure she wasn’t hidden in his room, they left. As soon as the door was closed, the boy fell to the floor. He brought his knees to his chest and started crying; he just couldn’t believe what had happened. He couldn’t believe his favorite person was gone.

He knew she was a witch, a powerful one, which meant she’d be able to live for a long time, just like him, but the world was a huge place and deep down he knew there was the possibility of never seeing her again.

Douxie tried to calm himself down, took some deep breaths, and ran his hands through his hair. Then, he remembered the letter, the last piece of her that he had.

He grabbed it and quickly opened it. First, he admired her handwriting, beautiful as always and then he started reading.

Dear Douxie,

If you’re reading this, it means that I’ve finally left. Deep down I think we all knew the palace wasn’t my place, I just never belonged inside these walls, but that doesn’t erase how much it hurts me to leave you.

You changed my life, Douxie, turned all the black and white into full colour, and I couldn’t be more thankful for that. You’re so important to me, I don’t think you understand how much you matter to me. You were my first real friend, you taught me what it meant to fully trust someone with your entire heart… and I guess you also taught me what love is. It’d be useless to try and hide it any longer, it’s been a while since there was something more than just a friendship between us. I wish I’d been brave enough to tell you sooner, to do something about it, but I didn’t. All I can say right now is that I love you, that I’m in love with you and that I’ll do anything I can to go back to you; I mean it, Douxie, I won’t stop until we’re together again because I know in my heart that these feelings will never go away, you mean the world to me.

Thank you for always being there when I needed you.

(Y/N).

Douxie didn’t know when he’d started crying, but he couldn’t stop. He covered his mouth with his hand to silence a sob, and then he wiped some tears off his face.

‘’I love you, too, (Y/N), and I’ll find you, no matter what,’’ he mumbled, making a promise to her once again, and also to himself.

...

900 years later

(Y/N) was just walking around the streets of Arcadia, minding her own business when suddenly she bumped into someone.

‘’Oh, I’m so sorry, I should’ve been more careful,’’ she said, apologizing to the person in front of her.

She barely even paid attention to the whole situation and was ready to keep walking, but she stopped in her tracks when she heard a voice. The same voice she’d dreamt about hearing again, the same voice she’d missed ever since that day in the castle. He only said her name, but that was enough for her heart to start racing.

(Y/N) turned around and their eyes locked, time seemed to have stopped. She barely had any time to properly react before his arms were wrapped around her body, and instinctively her arms did the same thing.

‘’Please tell me this is not a dream,’’ he said once they pulled apart.

‘’Douxie,’’ she mumbled, still unable to believe that it was really him. He let out a sigh when he heard her; he missed hearing her say his nickname, the one she’d given to him, the one he ended up using all the time because it reminded him of her.

‘’It’s me, (Y/N), I’m here. I said I would find you, that’s what kept me going for so long.’’ He said, truly speaking from the heart.

‘’I started losing hope a long time ago, to be honest,’’ she said. She wanted to hug him again, to tell him how much she’d missed him and how she was still head over heels for him, but she couldn’t. The past had changed her, she had to change in order to survive and she’d learned to be afraid of trusting people, even the ones she loved the most.

‘’What are you even doing here, though?’’

‘’I honestly don’t know, I just kind of ended up here I guess.’’

There was a pause between them. It all happened so fast, just a few minutes ago the hope of seeing each other again was nonexistent.

‘’I missed you so much, (Y/N). There’s so much I want to talk about and so much I want to hear from you. I-I can’t believe it’s really you.’’ She smiled at him, not really knowing what to answer. ‘’I still have your letter, there hasn’t been a day in which I didn’t think about it and what you said in it.’’

(Y/N) opened her eyes. She thought about that later almost every day, also remembering her words, her confession.

Douxie noticed that there was something wrong, it was evident in her silence, in how tense she seemed. He tried to grab her hand but she refused, taking a small step backward.

‘’Hey, what’s wrong?’’ He didn’t get an answer, just a scared and worried look in response. ‘’Look, do you think you could meet me after work tonight? I’d like to catch up with you and talk about everything, I guess.’’

‘’I- uh, I don’t know, I-.’’

‘’Please, (Y/N). I think we owe it to each other.’’

She took a deep breath and made eye contact with him for a split second. ‘’Okay, tell me where do you work.’’

…

Douxie’s shift was about to end. He was nervous, he couldn’t wait to see her again. When they saw each other earlier, he noticed she was acting a bit weird. Of course, he hadn’t seen her for nine centuries, but that wasn’t the (Y/N) he remembered. She was different, distant and cold. Deep down, he even thought if maybe he’d already lost her, nine hundred years was a long time after all.

He was closing the restaurant when he saw the girl approaching him.

‘’Hey,’’ she said once they were face to face.

‘’Hi, I’m glad you came.’’ There was a small silence between them. (Y/N) started playing with her fingers, trying to calm herself down. ‘’Listen, I know it’s late but would you like to walk around while we talk?’’

‘’Of course, yeah.’’ They immediately started walking.

‘’I have so much I want to say, but first I wanna hear about you, (Y/N). What have you been up to?’’

‘’Well, trying to put these last nine centuries into words would be a bit difficult. I haven’t been doing much, really, just trying to hide my magic from everyone, seems like I’ll always have to.’’ She mumbled the last part, but he could still hear her. It was evident she was talking about her father, who she hadn't seen since that night in the castle. ‘’What about you?’’

‘’Pretty much the same thing, I guess. I don’t usually stay that much in the same place, though. You know, always looking the same could raise suspicion.’’

‘’Yeah, tell me about it. After a while some people just start spying on you because they know there's something going on, or at least that happened to me.’’

They reached a bench and decided to sit down. (Y/N) tried to keep a bit of distance between them, something that the boy noticed, and he tried to hide his sad expression at the girls' action. They stayed quiet for a bit, the girl admired the stars while also allowing herself to enjoy the boy's company, even if deep down she knew she shouldn't have.

"I'm in love with you, too," said Douxie, breaking the silence and immediately creating a bit of tension in the air. "I still do, and I know I always will; my biggest regret is not telling you sooner, when we were together back in the castle." The girl opened her mouth to say something but Douxie didn't let her, he grabbed one of her hands and slowly caressed it before he kept talking. "Finding you is what kept me going for so long, I said it earlier, but it's true. This may seem like I'm trying to rush things but I think we've been apart for too long to keep waiting, (Y/N)."

He slowly grabbed her face and ran a finger along her cheek, pulling her closer to him, but she pulled away. "I can't, Douxie. I truly can't."

"What do you mean? Did you find someone else? Do you not love me anymore? It's okay if you don't, nine centuries is a long time-."

"I do still feel things for you, but these last years have been very hard, Douxie. I've learnt not to trust people, even those closest to me. Please, don't take this personally, it's not your fault."

He slowly nodded and then made eye contact with her. "I understand, I know how you're feeling, trust me. I also understand if you're not ready, and I would wait for you for a hundred lifetimes, my dear."

"I want to be ready, Douxie, I truly do. I want to be with you, it's what I've wanted ever since we'd walk around the castle, running away from Merlin or my father." She paused for a bit, taking a deep breath; it's like she was at war with herself, she'd been for a long time, but she was tired of fighting, of hiding, she wanted to let her walls down. "Maybe we could take things slowly," she said. They looked at each other and he caressed her cheek once again.

"Of course, my love, anything you need."

She leaned on his hand and closed her eyes, enjoying his warmth after so many years. "Would you kiss me?" she asked.

He simply grabbed her face and slowly pulled her closer to him, and finally their lips touched.

"I love you so much, (Y/N)," he whispered once they pulled away.

"I love you, too, Douxie."

They sat side by side and the girl rested her head on his shoulder, and he wrapped an arm around her. They didn't say anything, they didn't have to, they both knew what they were feeling at that moment. They were finally complete, and it was like every single bad thing they had to go through was worth it, because it had led them to that moment, to their encounter.

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rdr-addict · 2 years

Text

Decided to give this fic it’s own post so it would actually show up in the tags 😅

Title: The Best Part of Me

Summary: AU where Eliza and Isaac were never killed by robbers. However, they also never joined the gang and Arthur continued visiting occasionally and sending money.

The events of the game play out, but Arthur is able to escape and make his way home to them. If only to share a few last words with Eliza and his son before succumbing to tuberculosis.

Words: 2582

Eliza sighed as she watched the pouring rain from inside her tiny but cozy home.

She turned away from the window to look at her 10-year-old son. Isaac was sat by the fireplace reading a book he read at least 20 times already. It had been a gift from his father. And Isaac practically worshipped his father.

Which is why the fact Arthur hadn’t visited in months had Isaac feeling incredibly melancholy. Of course, the terrible weather wasn’t helping either.

Eliza turned back to the window. It was dark out, but the occasional lightning lit up the landscape around them.

Her thoughts went to Arthur. She understood why he hadn’t shown up recently. He wrote to her about the gang’s troubles. And she saw the papers about Blackwater.

She worried immensely for Arthur. Though she couldn’t help but feel glad she never took him up on his offer to join the gang.

Because of the gang’s recent troubles, he hadn’t visited for an unusually long time. And his once recent letters became sparse and worrisome.

He wrote to her about Leviticus Cornwall and the government agents hunting them down. It didn’t sound good. Arthur could be dead by now for all she knew. She sincerely hoped not. Even though they weren’t romantically involved, she cared deeply for him. And Isaac would be distraught if something happened to his father.

Eliza had written him back, practically begging him to leave the gang and stay with them. Arthur expressed his wish to do just that, but he was also terrified of bringing trouble to them. He also mentioned something about making sure others in his gang were safe before he could think about leaving.

Isaac had been asking about him for months and she was running out of things to tell him.

She feared the day when she would read the paper only to see Arthur’s name in big letters followed by the word “DEAD.”

She sighed again and pressed her head against the cold glass pane.

A bolt of lightning lit up the world. And for a split second she swore she saw a rider in the distance before the world turned dark again.

Her eyes widened and she frantically surveyed the scenery for any signs of what she saw. But the wind was whipping the trees along with the rain so she could barely make out the figures and shadows outside.

She gasped when another bolt of lightning struck and the figure was noticeably closer. Most definitely a rider. And they were heading straight towards her house.

“Someone’s coming,” she told Isaac frantically.

He looked up from his book in shock. “What?”

Eliza hurriedly grabbed the shotgun above the mantle. Arthur had given it to her when Isaac was a toddler and forced her to learn to shoot. He wanted her to be able to defend herself and Isaac while he was gone. She thought it was silly at the time but only a year later she was forced to shoot two men dead who came to rob them.

Arthur was beside himself when he found out. But proud of her for doing what needed to be done.

“Get behind me,” she instructed Isaac.

Her boy did as he was told while she continued watching through the window for the intruder.

Lightning flashed again and the man was practically on their doorstep. She lowered her gun after finally seeing who it was.

“Pa!” Isaac shouted as he ran past her and through the front door.

Her shoulders relaxed and she smiled. He made it, thank God.

However, she soon realized something was wrong as Arthur grew closer. He was hunched over and when Isaac got close to him, Arthur didn’t even acknowledge him.

“Pa?” Isaac asked worriedly.

Arthur gurgled out a cough before slumping off his horse and onto the ground.

Eliza quickly ran into the rain as Isaac’s terrified yell filled the air.

“Get back in the house!” she ordered Isaac. He hesitated, staring at the prone form of his father.

“Now!” she ordered. He snapped out of it and followed her orders.

“Arthur…” she knelt by his side. He was curled in on himself and wheezed with each breath.

“Li…Liza?” he rasped.

“It’s me.” She brushed his soaking wet hair from his face. “You’re home.”

He groaned and turned to lay on his back.

“No, no, no,” she fretted. “You gotta get up. Get you in the house where it’s nice and warm. C’mon now, I can’t carry you myself.”

She grabbed his arm and tugged with all her might. He protested weakly before using all his strength to lift himself up.

Once he was on his feet, Eliza supported the majority of his weight. Which was scarily light.

What happened to him? Was he going to be okay? Was anyone chasing him?

“Isaac, grab some towels and blankets,” She ordered once they were in the house.

She led Arthur to her bedroom then gingerly laid him down on her bed. He seemed only barely aware of what was happening.

Isaac entered with the items she requested. “Here Ma.”

She grabbed them gratefully. Isaac continued staring at his father in shock.

“W-what’s wrong with Pa?” he asked shakily. “He’s going to be okay right?”

Eliza didn’t have the answer to either question, so she gently told Isaac to wait in the living room. He left with tears in his eyes as he took one last look at his father. His always strong and lively father, now barely alive.

Eliza closed the door behind him and quickly got to work removing Arthur’s rain-soaked clothes. First she had to remove his satchel which was still slung over his shoulder. She got him completely naked, and her heart stopped when she saw just how malnourished the man was. As soon as he was awake she was going to force the man to eat. She would do whatever it takes to get him back to his old self. Her son needed his father dammit. She…needed him.

He shivered as his skin was exposed to the cold air. But he felt hot to the touch. Obvious signs of fever. She wiped his body dry with the towels then layered him with blankets.

A knock echoed through the door.

“Ma? What about Pa’s horse?”

She opened the door to see Isaac standing with Arthur’s hat in his hands. He must have gone outside to retrieve it after Arthur fell off his horse.

She looked back at Arthur who was now fully unconscious.

“I’ll take care of it. You sit with him.” She grabbed Isaac’s shoulders and traded places with him then continued until she was back in the pouring rain. Her hair and nightgown were completely soaked through, but she paid no mind.

She led Arthur’s horse (what happened to Bo?) to the small stable that housed their mule and a few chickens. She quickly removed the tack and replaced the saddle with a dry blanket before rushing back inside.

Isaac was sat next to Arthur’s side. Tears streaming down his face as he watched his father struggle to breathe. It was obvious something was terribly wrong just by looking at Arthur’s face. His cheek bones were sticking out prominently, his skin was pale and glistened with sweat.

“Grab some water would you please?” she asked Isaac.

He sniffled but nodded.

Eliza took his place by Arthur’s side. She ran her fingers through his hair.

“Arthur?” she tried.

Nothing.

“Arthur?” she tried again.

He gasped awake and she put her hand on his chest to ground him.

“It’s okay, you’re safe,” she soothed.

His eyes looked wildly around the room before landing on her.

“Liza?” he whispered.

“Oh Arthur. What-What happened? What’s wrong?”

He took a wet gasp before getting caught in a coughing fit.

Eliza quickly grabbed a handkerchief for him to cough into. Once he was done, she pulled it away and gasped when she saw blood.

“TB,” Arthur rasped. “I got TB. I’m-I’m done for.”

Her mouth hung open in shock.

No…it couldn’t be. She knew about TB. Knew it was a death sentence.

“I-I’ll send for the doctor. Maybe-”

“No,” Arthur shook his head. “No. No doctor can save me now. M’sorry.”

Eliza sank into the chair, defeated.

“My saddle bags,” Arthur continued. “In my saddle bags, you’ll find some money. Six-thousand dollars.”

Eilza’s hand flew to her mouth.

“Arthur what-”

“It’s yours, take it. And please…please forgive me for not being able to take care of you two no more. All these years…I know it was never enough. I’m sorry.”

Eliza’s eyes filled tears and she grabbed his hand. “You did what you could, and it was enough Arthur. You did right by us.”

He shook his head and let out a few more coughs. “Should’a…should’a left the gang soon as Isaac was born. Now I’ll never get to see him become a man.”

Just then Isaac returned with the water. Eliza poured some in a cup before forcing Arthur to take a drink. He was only able to handle a few sips before choking once more.

Eliza moved for the handkerchief while Isaac watched on in horror.

Arthur settled after a few minutes, and she placed a water-soaked rag on his forehead.

“Isaac?” he croaked.

Eliza looked at their son who was frozen on the spot. She got up and lead the boy to Arthur’s bedside.

Arthur looked over to his son and Eliza swore she could see his heart shatter to pieces.

Isaac gulped nervously before picking up Arthur’s hat from the nightstand.

“You-you dropped your hat Pa.”

Arthur studied his son with devastated eyes. His amazing son, who shared his blue eyes and blonde hair. It was curly like Eliza’s and his nose matched hers as well. Arthur was always mesmerized by Isaac. This boy him and Eliza created together.

He mustered enough strength to lift his hand to Isaac’s cheek.

“My boy,” he choked out. “I’m sorry son. Sorry for not being a better father to you. Sorry for not being here for you. I’m-I’m a bad man. And there ain’t much I’m proud of. But you…you are the best part of me.”

Tears were streaming down Arthur’s face now. And Isaac sniffled to himself realizing the seriousness of Arthur’s situation.

Arthur took his hat from Isaac’s hands and placed it on his head. It was too big for him, just like it had been for Arthur when he first wore it.

“This is yours now. Take care of it for me. And take care of your Ma.”

Isaac nodded through tears.

“I’m so proud of you son. And I love you.”

“I love you too Pa,” Isaac sobbed out. “You’re the best Pa in the world.”

Arthur smiled at him before breaking into another coughing fit.

Eliza shuffled Isaac out of the way while she tended to him.

“Don’t…let him see me when I…” Arthur whispered to her.

She wiped her tears and nodded in understanding.

“Go to bed Isaac. Time for your father to rest.”

“But…” Isaac started to protest.

“It’s okay son,” Arthur nodded to him.

Isaac took one last look at his parents before relenting and slipping out of the room.

Once he was gone Arthur’s body became lax.

Eliza returned to his side and refreshed the rag on his forehead.

“Can I get you anything?” she asked softly.

His eyes slipped closed, and he shook his head. “No, you’ve done more than enough. More than I deserve. Just-just stay with me please?”

His eyes opened and met hers.

“I’m scared,” he admitted with fresh tears.

She grabbed his hand. “I’m not going anywhere.”

The night continued on with Eliza watching over and caring for Arthur. Always making sure he was as comfortable as possible. He seemed to drift in and out of consciousness. When he could muster the strength, he told her more details about what happened to the gang.

Dutch had gone crazy. Hosea was dead. That news was particularly hard to hear. Eliza was fond of Hosea even though they only met a few times. And she knew how much he meant to Arthur.

Arthur also said John and his family escaped and that he told John to write to Eliza once they were safe. Everything else he said was written in his journal.

Morning was approaching and Arthur had been quiet for a while. Except for the rattling in his lungs. His breathing had slowed significantly, and Eliza knew it was a matter of time.

Just as the sun rose and painted the sky in the most glorious oranges and reds, Arthur’s eyes cracked opened and he turned to look out the window.

Eliza brushed through his hair soothingly. “It’s okay Arthur. You can go. We’ll be okay.”

Arthur took one last breath before his body went still and his eyes glazed over.

Eliza finally lost herself. She sobbed into the bed and cursed the world for being so cruel.

After an hour or so she pulled herself together and made her way to Isaac’s room. She was surprised when she opened the door and saw that he was awake and sitting up in bed with his legs tucked under arms.

He looked at her with red puffy eyes. Arthur’s hat still hanging on his head.

“I’m sorry Isaac, but he’s gone,” she told him.

He hung his head and sobbed the most wretched sob she ever heard.

She spent the morning consoling her son before forcing herself to take care of business.

She had to ask her neighbors for help burying him. It was a lovely spot on the property and she planted an assortment of flowers over his grave.

For years to come she would often find Isaac sitting out there reading or just talking to Arthur like the man was listening.

When Isaac turned 18 she received a letter from John. Apparently he had his own ranch with his wife and son.

Eliza invited him to come visit whenever he pleased. She figured it would be good for him to visit Arthur’s grave.

A few weeks later John arrived.

Eliza welcomed him with open arms even though she had only met him a handful of times when Isaac was real young.

When John saw Isaac he stopped dead in his tracks. He was wearing Arthur’s hat and looked like the spitting image of him.

“My God.”

“Looks just like Arthur right,” Eliza smiled proudly.

“Sure does,” John chuckled as he shook Isaac’s hand. “Good to see you again son. Doubt you remember me though.”

“Not really,” Isaac admitted sheepishly. “But I’ve read about you Uncle John. In my Pa’s journal.”

“Doubt that paints a very good picture of me,” John laughed.

Eliza led him to Arthur’s grave and left him to have moment.

Later she invited John inside where they chatted for a while. When it was time to leave John put his hand on Isaac’s shoulder.

“Your Pa would be so proud of you.”

Isaac blushed. “Thanks Uncle John.”

John mounted his mare. “You and your ma should come visit Beecher’s Hope someday.”

“Will do,” Isaac smiled.

John nodded to him before kicking his horse forward. He looked back to see Isaac give him the same two-finger salute Arthur used to do.

He returned the gesture before turning his eyes back to the road.

He looked up to the sky.

“You done good Arthur. You done good.”

#Arthur Morgan #Eliza #Eliza McCready #Isaac #Isaac Morgan #John Marston #major character death #Arthur has tuberculosis #Eliza and Isaac live #But Arthur dies #One shot #My Fic #This is sad

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amorgansgal · 3 years

Text

Summary: You've just finished robbing a house in Saint Denis, when who should you bump into but our favourite outlaw? You plan on making your way home, but Mr Morgan wants to treat you first!

Warnings: Flirting, little bit of sexual tension, ice cream drippage, but mostly still fluff. Maybe more steamy fluff.

Pairing(s): Arthur Morgan x Reader, Arthur Morgan x You, Arthur Morgan x Y/N Can be read on AO3 too.

It sometimes took you by surprise how easy it was to sneak into these parties and events. But then you knew from experience how easy it was to practically disappear into the wallpaper, when it came to these wealthy families and their never-ending calendar of social events. Saint Denis was no different. With a mop cap to hide your face, a plain grey skirt, clean blouse and the apron tucked around your waist, none of the rich party guests gave you a second look.

A couple of the servants threw odd looks your way, perhaps trying to figure out who you were and why they had never seen you before, but none of them questioned it. Even when you left the garden party, pockets loaded with valuables, your strong, quick pace meant no one questioned where you were going.

Finally, after getting away from the tall red brick building and it’s sprawling gardens, you removed the mop cap and untied the apron. You slipped both into your pockets and began the long walk back to your pony, Pepper.

The hot sun baked the street, but with the marshy swamp around the area it wasn’t a pleasant warmth. The air was humid and heavy, and you felt a trickle of sweat run down your back. You wished you had brought a fan with you, but there hadn’t been any room for it. You decided to cut through one of the city’s parks, so you could splash your face with the water from the fountain there.

The leafy, green trees in the park gave some much needed shade, and you approached the large, marble fountain at the centre with it’s gawkish looking fish spewing water from their mouths. A couple of people were dotted about the park, some sat on the edge of the fountain itself, a few on the benches. You got a few disapproving looks when you splashed the cold water on the back of your neck and then pressed your now cooler hands against your face.

Satisfied that you could at least make it across the city without getting too sweaty during the journey, you wiped your hands on your skirt and began to walk to the other side of the park. Around the pathways and stone wall that marked the outer edge of the public garden, a cluster of shops and businesses lined the street.

You briefly glanced at the tailors, debating whether you could afford a new dress, considering your current one was a little worse for wear. A pretty light blue, summer dress caught your attention in the window. It had three quarter length sleeves, with white lace around the neckline and waist, and tiny daisies dotted the amongst the blue fabric. You pursed your lips on seeing the price. Sure, it wasn’t made of silk, satin or velvet, so you could probably scrape together enough for it, but then doubtless in the weeks that followed it would only get crumpled and dirty.

You sighed and were about to turn around to continue your walk, when a voice behind you made you jump, ‘Would look good on yer.’

Arthur chuckled when he saw your expression change rapidly from one of surprise to fear then to annoyance.

‘You’ve got to stop doing that, Arthur!’ You muttered.

‘You’ve got to stop being so god damn jumpy all the time.’

‘I’ll have you know-’ and you quickly looked around, checking to make sure Arthur was the only one who could hear you. ‘I’ve just robbed a house, so yes, I’m a little jumpy.’

‘Whatcha get?’

You grinned, ‘None of your damn business.’

He smiled and rubbed a hand against his chin, ‘Aw, and there was me going to treat ya, but if you got a good enough prize, guess you can treat yourself.’

‘Treat me? What do you mean?’

‘Oh, yer still interested?’

You rolled your eyes, ‘Well if you’re just going to play games with me, Mr Morgan, I best be on my way. Pepper is waiting for me and he’d probably be better company.’

You moved away from the shop and began walking down the street, but Arthur still fell in step beside you, ‘Don’ know why you like that pony so much, he’s a stubborn, scruffy thing.’

You smiled and arched your eyebrows, ‘Guess you would know a lot about that, Arthur!’

Arthur tried to bite back his smile, and looked down at his boots, ‘I ain’t too scruffy.’

‘He’s a sweetheart really, deep down,’ You replied, then quickly glanced away, warmth rushing to your cheeks when you realised that you very much felt the same way about the man next to you.

After a short walk Arthur came to a sudden halt and gestured to a small shop tucked underneath an archway, ‘Anyway, we’re here now.’

‘Where?’ You asked, looking up at the sign over the business. La Glace Parlour. You frowned, unable to gather why you were here and what Arthur had in mind. He sighed, shook his head, then pressed a hand to the small of your back and guided you to a small sign they had in the window. Though the feeling of his warm palm against the thin material of your dress, meant your mind could barely focus on the words in front of you.

‘Ice cream, pastries and light refreshments,’ you finally read, hoping that Arthur could not feel the slight shake that ran through you as he pulled his hand away from your back. You looked up at him.

He seemed to give up on your cluelessness, and went to open the door, the quiet afternoon interrupted by the bright ring of the bell over the door. ‘You still want raspberry?’

‘Um… Raspberry ice cream?’

‘Sure.’

‘I guess, but wait-’

He didn’t and walked quickly into the shop, leaving you alone on the street and fiddling with the frayed material of your sleeve. He wasn’t long though, soon returning holding a cone topped with a reddish pink swirl of ice cream and offered it to you.

‘Oh, thank you, Arthur.’ You took the cone from him, and licked the edge of the ice cream to stop it dribbling down. You relished the sharp, zingy flavour of the raspberries and the contrast between the cold sweet treat and the warmth of the afternoon sun. You mm-ed softly and smiled at Arthur, who quickly looked away, his cheeks reddening a little.

He shrugged, ‘S’alright, saw it when I was last here, remembered what you said. Figured I’d invite you into town at some point, but as you were already here…’

‘You ain’t getting one?’ you asked.

‘Nah.’

‘Well, you should try some of mine then, it’s really good,’ you offered the cone to him.

‘Nah, that’s all yours.’

‘Feel kind of bad that you’re not having any.’ You took another lick, before glancing at the man beside you. ‘This isn’t just because you’re a big gruff outlaw who can’t have ice cream, is it?’

He choked out a laugh then. ‘What?’

‘Don’t want to ruin your fearsome reputation by enjoying something sweet!’

Arthur managed to force out a strained sounding laugh, then rubbed the back of his head and scratched under the brim of his hat. ‘No, I… no, that’s not… I can enjoy...’ he tailed off, suddenly staring at the road, as though the dust of Saint Denis and the passing coaches were the most interesting things in the world.

Perhaps it was seeing him as equally flustered and speechless, as you were normally, that left you feeling a little bolder. You dipped your thumb into the ice cream and then brushed it over his cheek. You would have almost felt bad, but his startled expression only left you in a fit of giggles.

He tried to look annoyed, but failed miserably. He lifted up his bandana. ‘I could just wipe that off with this.’

‘Oh, but then you’d ruin my fun and my devious plan, Arthur Morgan!’

He smiled, wiped his thumb against the light red stain on his cheek and popped into this mouth. You immediately remembered why you were often speechless and flustered around Arthur. His sharp blue eyes stared into your own, and you knew you were biting your lower lip while a warm flush crept up your cheeks.

He pulled his thumb from his mouth with a pop and you felt your mouth drop open, before you managed to slam it shut. Arthur gave you a slight smirk, but his eyes dropped to your hand and he quickly reached out.

‘Careful, you’ll drop it!’ His hand grabbed your own and pulled it up, so you wouldn’t drop the cone in the dirt of the path. Little dribbles of red ice cream ran down your hand, and you unthinkingly darted your tongue out to lick up the melted cream.

‘Thank you for-’ You looked up at Arthur who was staring at you so fiercely, it almost made you forget the ice cream in your hand again. Even under the shadow of his hat, his eyes were dark and stormy, pupils blown wide. You weren’t sure if you were imagining it or if you had really seen his eyes drop to your pink stained lips.

He cleared his throat, then put his hand on your back once more, and forced you to walk ahead of him, ‘Come on, can’t be late back.’

Tilly let out a small ‘hm’ when you unwrapped the brown paper parcel you had found on your bedroll a few days later, and found the blue dress dotted with daisies therein.

‘Wonder who got you that!’ she said sarcastically.

You revelled in the warm feeling that entered the pit of your stomach and pulled the dress up to look at it properly. You’d have to think of a seriously good way of thanking Arthur Morgan for his kindness.

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x y/n #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan fanfiction #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption #rdr2 #rdr #think it's the hot weather making me want ice cream #share a cone with your favourite outlaw #think this is vaguely high honour arthur morgan

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jiilys · 3 years

Text

warm front

featuring The Line, also on ao3 here

“You’re a lot better at this than Ron.” Harry said into the phone.

“Well that’s not hard,” Ginny said, not mentioning how she still occasionally picked up the receiver upside down. “Speaking of, he’s started growing a moustache since you left. It’s ghastly.”

“Oi!” Ron’s voice, annoyed, in the background. Harry grinned.

“Oh yeah?”

“It looks like he’s got biscuit crumbs on his upper lip.” Harry laughed, and Millie glared at him from behind the post office counter, “Oh, lovely, he’s giving me the finger.”

“I’ve started growing a bit of a beard actually.”

“Come off it.”

“Feeling left out?” Harry joked

Ginny snorted. “Yes, desperately. Isn’t it hot?”

“Well I think so.”

She laughed, clear and quick, and Harry could imagine her, all limb, leaning against the kitchen cupboard curling the phone wire around her wrist. He’d bought the phone as a bit of joke before he’d left, and then as a joke she’d installed it, and then for a joke he’d rung her, and then this was how they talked now. Arthur had apparently worn a suit when the electrician came to install the power plug.

“Isn’t it hot though? Bill says Australian summers are killers”

Harry looked at Teddy, sat on the post office floor in nothing but shorts sucking an ice-pop. “I’ve been sunburnt in places I never have been before, but it’s mostly fine.”

“Wow, sexy.”

“Bet Ron loved hearing you say that to me.”

“I’m sorry Harry, you want to do what to me? Put that where?”

“Gin-“

“No, we couldn’t in my room, there’s not enough room. Lounge is better, more space. On the dining table.”

Harry could hardly talk. “Stop,” he choked, “He’ll never speak to me again.”

“He left when I said the bit about the lounge, said I was being ‘very immature.’”

Andromeda, desperate to get out, away, gone, bought the land in Australia six months after the war ended. She’d said it was because she’d always liked the heat, but when Harry got there he knew why. He’d never seen anywhere so unlike England, the Australian countryside was all scorched earth, red dirt, dry trees. It could have been a different planet entirely.

He’d followed her six months later to be with Teddy, who at almost a year had hair permanently sunshine yellow, except when it rained it went as grey as concrete. Harry liked the spiders, sand, sunburn of it all. Sometimes, dumbly, he found himself missing sheets of rain, but only when it was so hot he could barely see straight.

Mostly he liked how there was nothing to do there, nowhere he had to be. He was teaching himself how to drive, burying things for Teddy to sniff out (dog nose), going into the tiny town to talk to Ginny on the post office phone, and helping Andromeda build a shed out the back. He’d never used magic less. The days were long and the nights were longer, but it was so different here that that too felt right.

He didn’t know when he’d go home. He kept meaning to set a date and then just didn’t, and then everyone stopped asking. It was stupid, but he felt like he’d know when he was done.

“Dad won’t let me see the phone bill,” Ginny said, picking up on the third ring and not saying hello, “It arrived this morning and he’s been locked in his office all morning with it.”

“Oh, God, I can-“

“Don’t you dare offer to pay for it. I don’t even think it’s that much, I think he’s just trying to recreate the logo at the top or something.”

“I-“

“Stop trying to pay for it- “

“I’m not– “ Harry, who had been, was silent. Then: “Gin, please-“

“No- “

“But- “

“Shut up-“ she said, unbothered, “Mum asked if you got the stuff she sent.”

“I did, the biscuits were excellent. And the tea bags” Harry had cleaned out the tin so Teddy could use it as a hat, which he had been wearing for two days now.

“I told her they already had tea in Australia but she didn’t believe me.”

Harry smiled, “I didn’t mind.”

“She said that even if they did have tea they wouldn’t have English Breakfast, or they would call it something crazy like ‘Australian Outback Breakfast’.”

“How thoughtful of her.”

“Stop being nice about it, it’s ridiculous.”

“It was nice of her.”

“Australian Outback Breakfast, Harry”

“I hate tea and hate that it was graciously sent to me by your mum.” Harry obliged.

“There we go. Killed any snakes yet?”

“Oh yeah, loads. Bears too.”

He could hear her smiling, “Bears, huh?”

“All in your honour.”

“Naturally. Still no success in seducing Millie?”

Harry looked around to the post office reception desk, a stones-throw away from the phone, to where Millie– middle-aged, cardiganed, glasses– was pretending to read the paper and not hate him.

“Haven’t you heard? Wedding’s in the Spring.”

“Damn. Well, we had it good there for a while but true love always wins.”

He laughed, and Millie gave him a look. He waved. She ignored him and went back to the paper.

Ron sent letters, barely legible, by owls that had to be nursed back to health in the bath.

Harry,

Sorry for the writing but I’m on the muggle train because we’re going to Ireland for a few days to stay with her Hermione’s Aunt because she’s ‘dying to meet me’ (???). Anyway, Hermione also says to tell you that Ginny is thinking of cutting a fringe, because apparently that’s important. Apparently girls do that in a crisis, or whatever, she’ll write and explain it.

Ginny is basically living at ours now. The other day she put a Hollyhead Harpies poster up in the living room and when I tried to charm it off all the players screaming at me like Sirius’s fucking mum, so I just moved the cabinet in front of it. Bloody nightmare.

Honestly it isn’t even half bad having her around, she knows all these drinking games and set up your room and sometimes has a go reading over Hermione’s policy reports to the Ministry when I’ve sworn off them. Do not tell her I don’t mind her being round she’ll be annoying about it. I’m getting that Harpies poster off the wall.

Hope Teddy is good and everyone is demanding more photos as usual. All Victorie has to do is chew the carpet around here and everyone gets a bit teary, including me. George jinxed Perce’s glasses into binonoulars the other day and for a weird second everything felt like before and Vic giggled and then George looked like he’d been hit the fucking nightbus. I don’t even know how to explain it– kids really just have no idea about any of it.

Hope Andromeda is good and that the driving is going better. Dad’s framing all of the phone bills he gets which Gin probably already mentioned but I can’t tell you how weird it is to go into my old room and it’s just a bunch of framed bills. Hermione says hello which I’ve already written but she said I didn’t make it clear enough.

We miss you mate. Home soon yeah?

Ron

Often, he thought of the week he’d told them he was leaving. Hermione, drunk, talking to Ginny on the patio of the burrow when she thought everyone was inside. It makes sense, really, she’d said, He’s never been anywhere he wasn’t hunted too. Ron had looked at him and then loudly dropped his firewhiskey and the girls had jumped, turned around, stopped talking, but still. He’s never been anywhere he wasn’t hunted too. Huh.

“How’s driving?”

“Oh, fine. I killed a swan.” Harry said, demoralised. Ginny laughed for a good two minutes.

“What?”

“I hit the wrong pedal and speed up instead of slowing down. I didn’t know what to do so I just moved it off to the side of the road.”

“Ah, the Boy who Lived strikes again.”

“Stop,” He was smiling, “What if Teddy had seen it?”

“He’s not even two. He probably would have thought it was, like, having a lie down or something.”

Harry was laughing now, “A lie down?”

“Yeah, a spontaneous, truck-induced–“

“–Permanent–“

“–Permanent, lie-down. I’m almost jealous now actually.”

Andromeda was in her garden a lot. Getting anything to grow was near impossible, but she wouldn’t stop working at it. She kept saying that soon they’d be able to have a green beans salad, so Harry just drove to a market and stuck a few green beans in the ground to make her laugh. As a sort of joke they’d started calling the land ‘the farm’ even though nothing ever grew here.

They took Teddy to the ocean for the first time and his eyes went blue the second he saw it. The beach where they’d buried Dobby was overcast, water as grey as dishwater, but here the it glittered like glass, blue light come alive. Teddy sat in the shallows, trying to flatten waves with his fists, laughing.

Andromeda sat on a towel by the dunes under an enormous hat, tears running down her face, abruptly laughing when Teddy tried to eat sand or fell over a sandcastle. Harry knew how she felt. Impossible, how two years ago Teddy had two living parents and Harry had been seventeen, dead and walking, and now they were sat on the beach, people they loved dead for real, as Harry and Teddy lined up shells on the shore.

It was three in the morning but Harry snuck in through a backdoor, cloak on, having to jimmy the lock because he forgot his wand. The streets were pitch black, only three streetlights in the whole main street, with two of them not working anyway.

“Why’re you awake?” Ginny said lightning quick, knowing the time difference by heart, and Harry’s chest unlocked. It was stupidly comforting, Ginny’s voice, how she never said hello on the phone because she never learned, how if he really made her laugh she’d hold the receiver away from her, like he wasn’t desperate to hear it.

“I thought I saw Sirius today,” he couldn’t stop himself, “There was a dog on the farm and it was huge and I thought– I forgot he was dead. Isn’t that stupid?”

There was only Ginny’s breath down the phone. Picture: her in the kitchen, gripping the receiver, still. The memory looped in his brain, how Sirius’ name had risen in his throat, how odd it felt there, how long it had been since he’d said it aloud.

“No.” He almost didn’t hear her it’s so quiet, “I went to the shop yesterday and asked Ron if Fred was in the back. I forget too.”

His heart slowed, the memory of the shop: solid and real, running again, made for laughing, rose up, only then he shut his eyes and saw everyone laid out in rows, glassy eyes, and somehow he was walking through the forest again, going to die, but not soon enough–

“Harry.” Ginny’s voice, dragging him back to earth, “You did everything you could. Sirius knew. Everyone knew. No one could have done better.” She sounded so sure, voice as clear as glass, he’d be a fool not to believe her, “It hurts because they loved us. They loved us. That’s the part to remember.”

“You are kidding-!” This time Harry didn’t say hello.

“I’m sorry, who is this?”

“Harpies reserve!” Harry was yelling in the post office and Millie looked appalled, “They’ll promote you in two weeks, you genius, I knew it– “

“I’m sorry I really have no idea who this is.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t say anything.”

“I sent the letter!” Ginny dropped the joke, indignant.

“We spoke two days ago! I can’t believe you didn’t tell me then–”

“–I sent our fastest owl.”

“Marius is currently passed out in the sink–“

Ginny laughed, “I wanted you to get the letter,” she said, finally, “I wanted you to see it. Did you see Madeline McKinnon signed it?”

She sounded like a kid. He grinned. “I did.”

“Best beater this century sent a letter to my house, asking me to be on her team. Madness. The English team are after her you know, it’s all over the Prophet.”

“I hope you’re not expecting me to send the letter back because I think that really will finish Marius off.”

“Please, you think I sent the real thing? Dad made twenty copies. He hung two on Ron and Hermione’s fridge and sent one to Aunty Muriel.”

Harry grinned, “You’re brilliant, I’m hanging my copy on the front door, framed.”

“The moving logo may cause problems for the muggles”

“Who cares? I want to tell everyone about this. Chaser for the Harpies–“

“I’m a reserve.”

“For now.” He could hear her smile through the phone, “What did everyone say?”

“Ron said I was a traitor and that he was also proud. Mum cried. Hermione promised to actually watch a game, George reminded me about nicking his broom all that time so technically he was also partly on the team, Bill bought a season pass, Charlie hung a giant Harpies poster in his shite apartment and sent a photo, Luna sent me awful flowers that won’t stop smoking, and Percy called to congratulate me on my admission to the ‘Hollygrove Harps.’”

Harry laughed, “Incredible.”

“Yeah, Perce’s was particularly heartfelt.”

Harry,

I’m sat at the dining table and everyone’s still here, but Mum wanted me to recap Charlie’s birthday dinner right now because she doesn’t want you to miss anything. Hermione also agreed with this mental idea.

Dinner Summary:

Food was good

Hermione tried to explain the electric collage or whatever decides American elections to Dad, it was stupid.

Hermione says it was electoral college not the eccentric cage or whatever I wrote

George got Charlie a life-size model of the Horntail that he almost opened in the house. Mum had a fit.

Dad told a story about how the Muggle Foreign Minister ended up with a bathtub cursed to drown anyone in it.

Ginny wants me to say Percy is wearing a cardigan Millie would be proud of. I do not know what this means. Better not be a sex thing.

Hermione says hello (again she insisted I write this down like it isn’t obvious)

Mum wants me to say we all miss you still (again, obvious)

She also wants to know if you need her to make you any shorts (do not answer this)

Charlie wants to say cheers for the gift – apparently they only do that burn cream in Australia and it’s hard to come by

George doesn’t have anything to say he just wanted to be involved so I’ve written this so he’ll bugger off.

I’m bloody sending this now, I feel like a quick quotes quill (Fleur asks how you are). Have a good one mate.

Home soon yeah?

Ron.

Sometimes, when he was driving home from the post-office just after the sunset, everything sat in the new-dark, he’d remember when he used to be on watch, sat in front of the tent holding Hermione’s wand with everything going wrong, and how only then he’d let himself think about Ginny. Her voice, long laugh, longer legs, telling him to move over, pass the milk, look left, met her later, skip that flashcard, relax, put Luna in as chaser if it all goes arse up– she’s Ravenclaw but I’ll vouch for her. Dumb hours spent on the Quidditch pitch, sun going down, watching her get shot after shot past him like she even needed the practise. C’mon Potter at least try to save these, you’re making Ron look like Wood. Her hair everywhere, laughing, head back, both of them impossibly far from the ground

I really don’t want to die, Harry would think in the dark, wand out, ready for it, I really don’t want to die and miss out on you

Harry,

Sorry I couldn’t call but everything’s been nuts here and I wasn’t sure when I’d get to talk to you. Malcotti’s fucked her ankle so I may actually get put in for a game?? She’s been told to take it easy for a week and we play the Magpies in four days, so?? I’ll let you know when I can call. I’m currently writing this at the post-office desk and running late for practise.

Sidenote: this express owl cost me four galleons so I hope it does a dance on its arrival or at least arrives within the day. Tell Andromeda hello and that I’m still rooting for the green beans. Also, good luck for the driving test!! I’m sure you won’t hit anything living or dead and/or drive into a lake, but also if you do just confund the instructor. I solemnly swear not to tell Hermione.

Thinking of you. Kiss Teddy for me,

Gin

The click of the receiver: “I only have five minutes, we’re about to eat.”

Harry smiled, “How’s home?”

“Absolutely nothing to note. Victorie threw up on Bill yesterday, so that was a joy.”

“Supportive as usual.”

“Hey, I am supportive.” Harry could tell the phone was jammed between her shoulder and her ear, heard a knife on a cutting board, “Supportive of Victorie’s right to throw up on Bill whenever she wants.”

“Are you cooking?”

“I’m cutting potatoes by hand to avoid the lounge because Fleur and Mum are talking about how to discipline children.”

“Sounds tense.”

“You don’t know the half of it. Ron had to pretend to be on the phone with you earlier for ten minutes just to get out of there. He says hi– fuck!”

Harry heard the phone fall, “Ginny?”

A scrambling on the other end, distantly: “You’re bleeding on the potatoes!”

“Hi,” Ginny’s voice, a little breathless, “I cut myself.”

“You alright?” Harry asked, quick-shot.

“Oh, yeah. Just blood. Admirably everyone is showing a lot of concern” (Percy’s voice, distant and mournfully, “well there’s no way we can eat these now”)

He thought about going home sometimes, about the flat with Ron and Hermione he was currently paying for that he’d never lived in, what he’d do back in England. No one had ever come out to visit him here, some unspoken agreement they’d all made to give him space. Except, knowing Ron and Hermione and Mrs Weasley and he’s never been anywhere he wasn’t hunted to it probably was very much spoken, it’s just he wasn’t there for it.

The thing is, if he went home that meant no more seeing Teddy every day, sitting around eating cereal, watching him walk into walls or turn his nails pink, giving him ice cream for lunch and strap him into the truck, driving around the farm doing spins just to make him laugh. Even after all this time Australia was so far from the familiar, every night him and Andromeda sat on the deck lazily casting cooling charms, looking at all the stars.

On full moons Teddy got in bed with all the curtains open, blinds up, just to look at the moon. He couldn’t sleep unless he saw it. Harry wondered if he ever did anything like that, got pulled towards something of his parents without realising it. Quidditch, probably. Looking for something without knowing, not sure what you were really missing. Teddy’s huge eyes, the moon, and that familiar feeling: Stop, wait, I can’t believe I’ll never see you again. Come back, I wasn’t done yet. I don’t know how to do it without you.

It was pitch-black, four in the morning Queensland time, but it had been the only time she’d had free. Harry was leaning against the booth wall, letting the cloak slip, exhausted. Ginny cleared her throat in an odd way.

“So, you know I hate asking about this. It makes me– I don’t want to be that person” She sounded, wrong, uncomfortable, like white knuckles gripping the receiver, “But everyone’s been asking and I want– when do you think you’ll be coming home?”

Harry was quiet. All this time away– almost a year, eleven months, it occurred to him– and she’d never asked. She was the only one who hadn’t. “Oh, I don’t know. Soon, I guess.”

“Yeah.” She said, unreadable. A beat went past, and Harry could feel the shift, how that was the wrong thing. He could hear her breathing. “Do you want– if you want, we could take a break-“

“No” Harry said, so fast, “No, no I don’t want that. Do you want that?”

“No. No. I just– I don’t want this to be difficult. I don’t want you to feel, like– obligated. If you want like room away from everything I get it. Just tell me– I don’t want– Just tell me.”

Harry’s heart was going into his chest like an endlessly slamming door. How to explain it? You wouldn’t believe the space here, all this room, all this time I have. I didn’t think I’d get it. I want space but never from you.

“I’m not with you because I feel obligated. I’m– That isn’t how I feel. I don’t want space or a break or anything.”

Silence, endless, pouring down the phone. He could be sick. Then, Ginny’s voice: “Okay.”

“I’m coming back to England, Gin. I’m coming back, just, when I’m– when I’m done. I’m coming home. Soon.”

“Okay. I just wanted to make sure that this– that this is still good.”

“It is.” He was so stupid. A war ends and everything finally works out, everyone safe for real, and he goes running to the other side of the world and doesn’t say when he’s coming home. Ginny, at home, getting a phone wired up just to call him. He had no luck for seventeen years and then it all came at once, and now he doesn’t know what to do with it.

“I love you,” he said, which he never said because it felt heavy, full of gravity, and he spent all his time trying to make her laugh.

Deep breath. He could hear her shoulders unknotting through the phone. “I love you too.”

“Harry?”

“Ron?”

“Can you hear me? Is this?– how do I know if this is on?”

“It’s on,” Harry said, hurriedly, “Is everything alright?”

“I tried to give Pig a letter for you this morning and he bit me and flew into the window.” Harry started laughing, “So I thought I’d try give him a break.”

Harry pulled himself together, “Yeah maybe that’s for the best. How are you?”

“Oh, the usual. The shop is still nuts so Hermione stopped by to help out on Saturday and ate half a Bile Biscuit thinking it was shortbread– hilarious. George threatened to charge her. If Ginny’s not at a practise she’s at our place drinking all the milk, and Luna came by the other day and threw all the stuff in the fridge out because she said it was infected with ‘Mimilice’. You?”

“The same. Teddy turned his leg into the end of a snake the other day and I had a fit. Andromeda put him in the sink so he couldn’t slither away before phasing back. It’s currently 39 degrees.” Ron laughed.

“God, even your voice sounds hot.”

“Woah, mate. I’m seeing someone and so are you.”

“Ha ha.” Ron said sarcastically, “I wish I could turn this up so everyone in the empty living room could have heard that.”

“Please don’t try to use the speaker phone, you’ll accidentally dial the embassy or something.”

“’Speaker phone’? What could the phone have to say?”

Teddy turned two and Andromeda make him a cake by hand with a spider on it that moved. He blew out the candles and looked bemused, sat in a top Hermione had sent, still holding onto a scrap of ribbon. Harry took him outside and sat him on his Nimbus Seven Series, entirely too long, and Teddy did slow circles while Harry held the end, watching him laugh, tiny hands grasping the handle. Suddenly, like being thrown through a window, Remus was in front of him, standing in the Hogwarts Hallway, breathless and happy, saying his sons name.

The post office has been closing for a good fifteen minutes, but Harry brought the cloak, pretended to leave, then snuck back and picked up the phone again.

“I think I just saw Millie’s husband.”

“You’re kidding.”

“A guy came to pick her up, he had a hat on, she got in the front seat–“

“What kind of hat?”

“I don’t know, normal. Like a normal old-person hat.”

“You didn’t say he was old.”

Harry grinned, “You really thought Millie seemed the type to be with a 25-year-old?”

“Hey, you’re going out with me after all–“

Harry spluttered, “I’m a year older!”

“Year and a half–“

“You’re unbelievable. That is not the same.”

“Just because you like younger women–“

“I don’t like younger women, I like you, or I did until a few minutes ago. I’m now reconsidering.”

“You like me.” Ginny said, not really serious but also deadly so.

Harry smiled, said dryly, “What gave me away?”

Harry had started dreaming of home, the staring in the street, dishes washing themselves in the Burrow, Hogwarts lake dark and silky as eels. He couldn’t tell what had brought this on, only that he was now driving into town every day to talk to Ginny, and now Ron, Hermione, even Neville were coming to the phone.

“They miss you” Andromeda said, unprompted, drinking muggle wine on the deck one night after dinner, “Molly wrote last week asking if you mentioned when you’d be coming back.”

“Oh,” Harry said, because he couldn’t think of anything else. “Do you think you’ll come back?”

The question hung between them. Terrible thought: Teddy never back in England, Teddy growing up where Harry couldn’t see him.

“I will.” She looked back at him, unbearably, and it was everything that went unsaid.

“How?” Harry asked, unthinking.

Andromeda looked back out the window, the pressing dark, the unbearable heat. Even after all this time, making dinner, sitting on the dark deck, weeding the garden, she was still unreadable. Grief undid you in layers.

“Because Nymphadora would want me to.” She said, simply. “Because I want her to think I’m brave.”

The post office shuts for a week because Millie goes out of town, and the place is small enough that that means it’s not open till she gets back. Harry makes it four days before apparating hundreds of miles away, almost splinching himself in the heat, dizzy from lack of practise, and stumbling to a payphone at the side of a highway.

Click. “Didn’t expect to hear from you so soon.”

“Yeah, I went out of town to call.”

“Out of town huh? Miss me that much?” Ginny’s voice, joking.

Unbelievably, Harry thought. “Yeah well, Teddy isn’t much of a conversationalist.”

“Don’t let him hear you say that, you’ll knock his confidence.”

“He’ll get past it. How are you?”

“Fine. Well– actually, you won’t believe what happened at practise on Thursday, I hope you’re sitting down–“

“I’m not–” Harry grinned

“Squat then,” Ginny said blithely, “because Jacqueline has actually gone full bonkers–“

“My parents say its incredible “ Hermione’s voice, the only person in his life who spoke in a normal tone on the phone

“Yeah, we’ve been actually.” Harry didn’t have the heart to tell her that Teddy had found the Great Ocean Road blindingly boring and had only made it an hour in before him and Andromeda had decided it wasn’t worth the screaming anymore.

“Yeah, Mum and Dad were thinking of coming down, doing it again.”

Harry played along, “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She was endearingly fake-casual, “Maybe Ron and I would come too.”

“Ron wants to drive 150 miles along a stretch of boring road with your parents?”

“You didn’t say it was boring.”

“Slip of the tongue,” Harry smiled, “What about the Ministry? And the shop?”

“We’re thinking about doing travelling.”

“The year we spent in a tent in various country-sides not enough?”

“Funnily enough seeing the sights wasn’t top of mind then.”

Harry smiled darkly, “If we’re going travelling let’s do Italy, or America, or something. Soon. Somewhere none of us have ever been.”

Hermione left it a beat too long for it to be a normal silence, “I heard Italy is beautiful, the history there is incredible…”

Harry could almost hear talking to Ron later: “and then he said if we’re going travelling, ‘we’re’, Ron! And ‘soon’! he thinks he’ll be travelling with us ‘soon’!. And Ron, “so you didn’t ask when he’s coming back then?, and then Hermione: “didn’t you hear? soon! He said soon!”

He was walking back to the car from the post office one day, Teddy plodding beside him infatuated with a passing goose, with Ginny’s voice still swimming around him, the sound of Ron telling her to shut up, pass the receiver, I’ve got to tell him the Cannons score, and he walked into the travel agents and booked one-way ticket to England for next week. Just like that.

Stupid, really, how he heard their voices all the time (walking in the street, making a sandwich, fixing the plumbing) but had never made the connection. He was in the street like always, hearing the call all again, and thought I wish they were here for real, and then walked into the air-conditioning and pulled out his chequebook. It really was that easy. The goose was still outside when he left holding his ticket, Teddy squirming to get closer to it with a full-on beak that Harry was trying to hide with one hand.

Home soon Harry thought the whole drive home, the thought expanding in his chest, the window open, his hair blowing everywhere– longer than it had ever been. Even when he got back to the farm, told Andromeda (who promised to follow in a year), made dinner, went to bed, he imagined he would feel different. Something huge and unfelt before, but really everything was the the same as ever. He just missed them, is all. He was learning that sometimes love really was that simple, that it was reason enough.

“I read that people sometimes make signs at airports.”

Harry smiled, phone cord wrapped around his palm. “Saying what?”

“Guess you’ll find out tomorrow.”

“Oh, God.”

“Don’t worry, no magic involved. We don’t want to alarm the muggles. Luna asked if she could bring her lion hat but Hermione got intervened.”

“Luna’s coming?”

“Yes, duh. Everyone is. It’s been a year a half.”

Harry, who had had visions of kissing Ginny ridiculously for an hour in front of the plane, adjusted his expectations.

Ginny, as usual, reading his mind: “Don’t worry. I’ve briefed Ron that I’ll still be kissing you senseless so he had better start getting over it.”

Harry grinned, “Bet he loved that.”

“He called me a cocksucker, and then I pointed out that actually I hadn’t been in a year and a half–“

“Gin!”

“–and he said my name exactly like that, yeah.”

Harry couldn’t stop laughing, bright red in the post office for the last time as Millie shushed him, “You are unbelievable.”

“Well, believe me.” she said, dryly, “I’ll be seeing you in 29 hours.”

Harry, also counting, ducked his head, grinning. It turned out all his best luck was waiting at this part of his life, who knew. Thank God, Thank God, Thank God.

“I’m going to be totally unusable, you know. The flight’s twenty-one hours.”

“Yeah, you’re an idiot. I know you’re on a whole no-magic kick but this really is the limit. What are you going to eat?”

“Hermione says they serve eggs and stuff.”

“Wow, really? How?”

Harry considered. “I actually have no idea. Maybe please bring some chips or something to the airport.”

Ginny laughed, the best sound in the world, “Only if you bring me some eggs.”

#sorry this is late sorry to all my unanswered messages i had to post this today i had to get it away from me!!!#hinny #hinny fic #harry potter #ginny weasley #otp: several sunlit days #i have to run everyone is waiting on me sorry everyone i love you all lots i turn 21 in three days who could believe it!!!#carolineswritingtag

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tommyspeakycap · 3 years

Text

Everything is Changing (6)

pairing - tommy shelby x reader

word count - 2760

part summary - you meet Billy Kimber for the first time and although wish as Tommy may, it probably won't be the last.

a/n - sorry this one is so short! it's kind of like a filler chapter, the next one is much longer I promise haha, enjoy!

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5

"Arthur?"

The eldest Shelby immediately rolled his eyes when he heard the elongated questioning tone in which his name had dragged off your lips. That tone hadn't changed for as long as he had known you. You drag out his name a little longer than you usually would and he knows right from the get go that you're going to want something from him.

"Can I ask you-"

"No." He responds.

Arthur doesn't even raise his eyes from the paper he holds out in front of his face. "Ha," You snark, "Very funny."

The paper is swiftly ripped from between his hands as you walk by, moving in one swift motion to roll it into a form of baton and smack him over the head with it. He scowls at you, a look that would have almost every other person in Small Heath running in the opposite direction, but you just shoot him a cheeky grin and drop yourself down onto the chair across the table from him with a roll of your own eyes.

"Did Tommy come home last night? I've been meaning to speak to him." Arthur shook his head, eyes ever so slightly softening up as he watched the fall in your demeanour. "Do you know where he is now?" Arthur screws up his face in an incredibly obvious way, saying that he knew but wasn't supposed to tell you. "Arthur-"

"Tom said-" You hold up your hand to stop him. "I really can't stress how much I do not care what he said, Arthur. Don't make me come over there."

Arthur fought in a world war that left him scarred for life. He'd be tortured by men before and he often withstood the pain like a champ. However, the thought of you - despite small hands and being a foot smaller than him - looking the way you did right now, he doesn't think for a moment you won't come over and make him tell you whether he wants to or not.

He figures he's not really willing to keep it from you anyway. He honestly hopes that you can go and maybe talk some fucking sense into Tommy considering you're the only one he ever really listens to.

"Garrison."

It barely took you a moment to get up and leave after that, reappearing only a second later to wrap your arm around him from behind, over the back of the chair. "Sorry for threatening you. Love you." He shakes his head and says nothing, but the second he hears the door shut behind him a grin creeps onto his face. He loves you like a sister and he always had. He had made a similar promise to your brother as he died as the one that Tommy did. He promised that he would keep you safe, but he also promised he would look out not only for you, but for you and Tommy as a pair. You had always come as a pair. Everybody that had known you two growing up knew that you were meant to be together. Arthur included.

Tommy is situated in the snug at the Garrison on his own. He's waiting on Billy Kimber to come in with his adviser to meet with him to discuss what had happened at the Cheltenham races not too long ago. He had made sure Grace was out of the way because honestly men like Kimber turned Tommy's stomach. They repulsed him. The way that he spoke about and to women made the peaky blinder want to terminate their agreement and put the man down for good.

Even the way he looked at the barmaid that Tommy had become rather fond of was disgusting, never mind the sly and gross comments he made about her in her absence.

He was determined to never ever have you see that man. He didn't particularly like that Grace had to end up subject to his repulsive hands on her, but Thomas wouldn't even let the man lay his eyes on you. In Tommy's world, you were the golden standard and even having that man in your presence would be an insult to you. Kimber would likely take to you the way Tommy had.

He was adamant to keep you from that too.

"Hello Harry, is Tommy here?" That voice. The way it speaks so kindly to the barman that most barely pay mind to unless he's serving them their drinks draws Tommy's attention immediately because he knew for a fact that voice belonged only to you. You were the only person he knew who still tried to spread kindness, even when it wasn't warranted. Tommy certainly didn't deserve that which you gave to him, but you still gave it to him nonetheless.

"Well, aren't you a sight."

Tommy finds his legs propelling him off of the chair he sat on literally by a matter of reflex when he heard the sneering voice of Billy Kimber. He nearly ripped the handle off the door when he pulled it open to reveal the sleazy businessman making his way to get as close to you as he could. Before you even have the opportunity to pull the pepper spray that Tommy knows you carry on Kimber, the man who had been your best friend and most trusted protector is - as he always would be - shielding you from him.

Tommy knew that later you would argue that you could protect yourself after you thanked him for stopping the advance of the man you couldn't have had any less interest in if you tried. "Mister Kimber." Tommy says, holding out his hand as an offer to shake that effectively makes the man step back a little to almost gawk at Tommy's boldness. Tommy uses that small amount of extra space to situate himself so that you were wholly behind him. "Shelby." Kimber responds, not bothering to shake his hand.

He cranes his neck a little in order to look over the raven haired gangster's shoulder, laying his eyes back onto you. You have your own eyes locked on the material of the back of Tommy's suit, tracing the interwoven patterns of the material until they felt Kimber's burning into you and raised to meet them. The smirk that rose to his lips following the locking of your eyes was sickening, and prompted Tommy to firmly clear his throat.

"Preoccupied, Mister Kimber?" Tommy tilts his chin slightly, straightening his back and squaring his shoulders in an instinctual, primal assertion of his dominance. This was his pub. It was his town. Things don't happen in Small Heath that Tommy Shelby doesn't like, and he doesn't like this. "Just wondering why I'm having to stare at you pikey bastard blocking the view of such a pretty woman." He sneers, and you catch the clench of Tommy's jaw tightly. You know full and well now that he's on the edge. He holds his emotions well for the most part, but there are some instances where he flips a switch to a man you barely knew and there's a few noteworthy signs that mark when he'll make that switch.

'"It's alright, Tom." You lean in closer to him, standing on the tip of your toes to speak the words soothingly into his ear. "I'm alright."

If Tommy was working with a man like that, you knew there was some reason to it. You knew that if he lashed out the way that you thought he might, all bets would be off in terms of whatever deal they had and that Tommy would likely be dead before he hit the ground because there were three of them with guns.

The feel of your hand on his arm pulls him back to earth, but as quickly as it was there, you move past him. Just as you had done since you were a little girl, you find yourself between your best friend and a man who's metaphorically a lot bigger than he is. Kimber could take down the likes of Tommy without much thought if he had half a brain. "I'm (y/n)." You introduce, holding out your hand despite the dread that flows through your body at the thought of him touching you.

Billy Kimber is quick to put his hand into yours. He uses that to pull you ever so slightly closer to him and you can almost feel the anger radiating off of Tommy. You reckon for a second that Tommy would kill him there and then if he didn't let you go, but just as Kimber opened his mouth to speak the door to the Garrison slammed open, bashing off the brick wall as the booming voice of Arthur Shelby bounced around the room with the man himself sauntering in.

"Lets get this fuckin' show on the road then eh? Drinks Harry!" His extremely sudden and very loud interruption is enough of a distraction to the men with guns for John to approach from the opposite side and wrap his arm around Kimber's shoulder in a way that was too rough to be friendly, but not enough to pose an immediate threat. He uses this leverage as a means to 'lead' him into the snug in the corner of the pub. John wished to kill him almost as much as Tommy did by the way he was holding your hand and trying to get as close to you as possible.

Arthur winks at you across the room in a way that tells you he will always have your back, and he truly always does. He follows John into the snug and Tommy, who had moved around to stand in front of you again, turned to face you.

"Are you alright?" He rushes, hands holding tightly to your upper arms as you stand all but against his chest. You're so close to him that you can feel the uncharacteristically fast and jumpy beat of his heart against his chest. "I'm alright Tom," you assure, tilting your head to look up at him, "Just feel dirty even only touching his hand." Tommy nods his head in some form of understanding, his eyes dragging over you in the most typical Tommy way as he searches you for any potential sign of harm as if he hadn't been stood right by you almost every moment since Billy Kimber had entered the pub.

You can tell he's giving you that once over to make sure you didn't have a single bruise, bump or lump on you from any split second that he might've missed the greasy entitled man placing his hands on you. His eyes are wide, filled with fear that only you would be able to see. All the worries about your friendship melt to the back of your mind, your plan to confront him falling away as you both get lost in each other for the moment. The echoing of people mulling around the Garrison is lost to you both the second he wraps his arms around you abruptly. He usually wouldn't do this in public, holding you that tightly, that securely was usually reserved for behind closed doors. "Tommy," you murmured into his shoulder, "It's okay." You don't know what it is that got him so freaked out about this altercation, maybe because you had come so close to business he wanted to keep you out of in recent weeks that he was extremely on edge, but you didn't know.

Nevertheless, the way he had his arms wrapped around you in an almost suffocatingly tight hug, one on the back of your head and the other over your back to keep you as close to him as he could isn't a shock to most of the men in the Garrison. They all know that you walk around Small Heath - albeit unknowingly - with some kind of shield around you built by Tommy's well known and incredibly long established adoration for you. Men didn't dare lay a hand on you without your direct say so because they had seen what Tommy Shelby was capable of with that Peaky cap when it conceded you. Tommy pulls back, returning his hands to your bicep so he can press a chaste kiss against your forehead. It felt like just the two of you again.

Just like it had all these years.

The rain patters the tin roof above two 12 year olds sitting in Charlie Strong's scrap yard. You and Tommy Shelby are sat cross legged on cold hay bales at the edge entrance of the stables, looking out as the rain splashes down into the canal water. Between you both is a collection of sticks and stones in a little pile from which you take turns picking up a small stone or stick before lobbing as far into the distance as you can get them, a competition of sorts, seeing if any can even get over the water before plummeting to the ground, although most barely even make it and instead reside at the bottom of murky puddles in the space between the stales and the bank of the Cut.

A dark cloud hangs over the roof under which you take some refuge from the storm, but it doesn't appear as though neither you nor Tommy can shake the dark cloud that hangs over the two of you after the events of the day. "Are you alright, (y/n)?" He pries gently, turning his head from watching the rock you'd just thrown sink to the bottom of the canal to look at you now. You can feel his eyes burning into you, silent tears dripping down over your cheeks. Even at 12, seeing you hurting and in pain from things that Tommy couldn't fix or fight was something he despised. Wishing to be able to erase your pain with a snap of his fingers was something he had done since he was a child.

He couldn't change the fact that your dad had died. He couldn't reverse the damage to heart that the mine collapse had caused in the loss of the first man to love and look after you. He couldn't unbreak your heart no matter how much willing, wishing and praying he did to try and ease the pain that it had brought to you.

It was that day, even though he was so young and knew so little about what it felt to love someone truly, he made it his very mission to protect you from anything else that could ever cause you that hurt. He made it his responsibility to keep you safe and never let anyone break that beautiful heart of yours again.

It's why he took your hand that day, tugging you off the hay bale despite sad protests and dragged you into the rain. He took both your hands and simply began to dance like an idiot, downpour soaking through both of your clothes within mere minutes of the time you spent dancing in the rain, splashing through the puddles and kicking water up at each other in the storm until Polly had come and found you both there soaked to your skin. He had made you laugh, twirled you round and insisted you were still the prettiest girl he'd ever seen even when you were dripping rain water from the ends of your dress and out of your hair.

It was maybe the first day he said his I love you with some semblance of the true meaning behind it. It didn't matter how young you were and it didn't matter that maybe neither of you knew the definition of love or even half of what it felt to be in it, but you both just knew that you were two best friends who seemed to be the only people in the entire world who understood the other.

And on that evening as Tommy's mother had watched her son spin you around as mere kids in the rain, she prayed to God that the world would let you two be.

Of course, that was never the plan for you and Tommy Shelby.

#tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby x reader #peaky blinders #peaky blinders fic #peaky blinders writing #tommy shelby fic #thomas shelby fic #everything is changing

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jadedxrealityw · 3 years

Text

-Meeting The Family- Draco Malfoy x Female Reader

☼-🐍-☼

Request: hi darling, how you doing? can i request a draco x reader where is draco going to her house on christmas break to meet her parents? maybe she has a younger brother who is quite jealous of her and draco together? just something very fluff and funny !! thank you, i love your work btw ❤️

Kody: YESS. I’ve been waiting for something like this for the sole purpose that i’m going to make the reader a Weasley!

Year: 7th

House: Gryffindor

Possible Triggers/Warnings: Fred and George being the best siblings, Molly being Molly, Draco being literally terrified of the Weasley’s, a little bit of the spice spice at the end.

☼-🐍-☼

“will you stop pacing? Your making me nervous” you grumble, watching as the platinum blond hair boy walked back and forth in your dorm room “Your nervous? Your not the one meeting your girlfriends whole bloody family today” he snaps at you.

he walks over to the edge of your bed and sits down, putting his face in his hands “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled at you” he sighs deeply. You crack a smile and walked over to stand in front of him and take his hands into yours “It’s alright, but i’ll be there so there’s nothing to worry about. They’ll love you”

Draco scoffs, leaning his head against your stomach “They have every right to hate me, my father is a horrible person to them and they’ll think i’m just the same as him” he spoke. You had never seen him so worked up over anything before, except for maybe when you got injured by a werewolf in the woods.

you purse your lips before sitting comfortably on his lap “Draco. You are nothing like your father and you will show them that. So stop moping okay?” you watch his eyes for a moment as he nods his head “Okay darling. I won’t mope. I just hope your right about this”

“I’m always right”

☼-🐍-☼

today was the day, you had put on a blue, burnt orange, and brown striped sweater with blue jeans. The Weasley aesthetic really while Draco wore a emerald green sweater with black jeans (ik hawt). You stood in front of the burrow, holding his hand “Here we go” you spoke.

you reach up to knock a couple times and the door swings open. It was Fred with a candy cane in his mouth. He looks at the both of you and nods once “Hey Y/n and Malfoy. I’m Fred by the way, not George. Just so you know” he sticks out his hand and Draco takes it. They shake hands. That’s a good start.

he takes the candy cane out of his mouth and points behind him “Let’s head in shall we?” he says and you smile. As you both step in, you could hear everyone talking “Is Charlie here yet?” you turn and face your brother. Fred’s face drops and he shakes his head “He said he got busy with work.”

you nod slowly, your expression dropping “Oh, okay” you shrug. “Y/n!” you hear a familiar shout and watch as Molly and Arthur come from around the corner. You let go of Draco’s hand and walk up to them. They both embrace you tightly. You pull away from them and walk back to Draco.

you could tell how tense he was when he saw your parents. “Mum, Dad. This is Draco” you say and slowly brought him up to them. Draco cleared his throat before speaking “Hello Mrs. and Mr. Weasley. Thank you so much for inviting me” he spoke. So polite.

your mother smiled warmly at him as well as your father “Well, were glad you came. Seems like our girls like Slytherins” Molly let out a laugh. You raise a brow “What do you mean?” “Hey Draco” you both turn to the right and see Pansy Parkinson come out of the hallway. Oh right, Ginny’s girlfriend.

Draco smiled kindly, she was his friend after all. “hey Pans” he replies. Pansy waves before disappearing into the living area. “Now, you two join your siblings in the living room while we finish dinner” Molly spoke and leant down to kiss your forehead before leaning with Arthur “I think that went well”

Draco nods “Me too”

☼-🐍-☼

“Percy, don’t be such a buzzkill and take the candy cane” George sat next to Percy, jabbing him in the side with the peppermint treat. Percy just rolled his eyes and continued to read the book we was holding. You chuckle as you sat on the sofa with Draco, his arm wrapped around your shoulders.

It was certainly a full house tonight. Molly, Arthur, George, Luna, Fred, Percy, Ginny, Pansy, Bill, Fleur, Ron, Hermione, you, and Draco. You wondered where you would all eat considering your family table could barely fit the kids who already lived in the house. “Your family is much different than mine” Draco whispers to you.

you turn your head to face him with a smile. “Yeah, we’re definitely stranger then other families” you laugh quietly, a grin forming on his face. “I like it. I’m so used to the quiet that i forgot that actual families talk and hang out with each other” he spoke, his eyes glossing over a bit as he looks at the tall christmas tree.

you reach into his lap and grab his hand, bringing it up to your lips to kiss his knuckles. “I hope i don’t make you feel as alone anymore” you spoke with a small frown on your face. Draco shook his head and with the arm wrapped around your shoulders, he grabs the back of your head and pulls you into a kiss.

it was sweet and loving. To bad you had shit for brian brothers. “Hey hands off Malfoy! No snogging my sister while i’m here!” Ron shouts, causing you to pull away from the kiss. Hermione seemed annoyed with her boyfriend and pushes his shoulder “Y/n can do whatever Y/n want’s get over yourself Ron”

George and Fred both choked back laughter then actually choked on candy canes. Idiots. Ron grumbled something and crossed his arms. What a child. After more talking you had the urge to go to the bathroom and laid your head in the crook of Draco’s neck “I’ll be right back. I have to use the bathroom. Okay?”

Draco nods and places a hand on your thigh to squeeze it gently before unwrapping his limbs from yours “I’ll be back. Be nice. All of you” you gaze at all your brothers because Ginny at least knew how to be nice to Draco. You give a sharp glare to Ron before you leave the living room.

Fred watches as you walk out of the room and like a pack of dogs, every single Weasley sibling crowded Draco. He thought he was going to be murdered on the spot as his grey eyes widened. Bill smiles lightly and holds out his hand to shake “Hi, i’m Bill. Anyway as you probably know were missing a Weasley tonight”

Draco grabs his hand and shakes it “Charlie, right?” he says and all there heads nod. Oh this is so creepy. “Right. Well you see Y/n is really close to Charlie, but she hasn’t been able to see him for almost three years and such, so Fred told her he’s not coming, but we plan on surprising her when we open gifts”

a small smile graces the Slytherins face- wait. “Why are you telling me this?” he questions and Percy speaks up surprisingly “Because you make our sister happy and considering you both are graduating next year, we figure your going to be around more often and- so welcome to the family Malfoy”

Draco was in complete shock as Percy spoke, considering he thought Percy hated him the most. Y/n was right. “Thank you. I also want to apologize for my fathers behaviour towards your family as well as mine in the past. It took me awhile to see you guys the way Y/n does”

the twins shake their heads “Don’t worry about it. Your dad’s a real piece of work. Y/n tells us your mum’s nice enough though” they spoke in unison. Draco nods “yeah, she’s not judgemental” he reassures. “Anyway, we hope your having a nice night though. Right Ron?” Bill turns to face the younger Weasley.

Ron looks at Bill and shakes his head, but Bill hits his shoulder “Yeah yeah whatever. We hope your having a blast” Ron then tore away from the group and went back to sitting with Hermione on the other sofa, mumbling something along the lines of ‘snogging his sister’

a couple minutes later you came back into the living room and were pleasantly surprised to see Bill, George, and Fred chatting with Draco who seemed to be smiling brightly. What a sight. You lean against the doorway and watch as he interacted with your brothers.

you watch as they all went to sit on the floor so Percy, Ginny, Hermione, Luna, and Pansy could sit down and chat as well. Who would thought the Slytherin prince would get along so well with your family. “You guys seem to be having fun” you say as they turn to look at you.

you look to your left to see Ron sitting alone on the loveseat with a scowl on his face. You wave the group off before going to sit with your brother. He looks at you then the floor “Y/n” he spoke and you smiled lightly “Ron” you say in the same manner. “Why aren’t you sitting with the rest of them?”

Ron scoffs under his breath “Why should i? Malfoy will never be friends” he comments and you reach up to lift his face, making him look at the group laughing and talking. “Look at Percy. He’s the most stuck up person i know and he is having a blast talking to Draco and Pansy. Why do you have a problem?”

Ron sighs and pushes your hand away “Because your my sister. Yes, i know Ginny is to, but we’re the same age you and i. I can talk to you about anything, but ever since you and Draco got together. It hasn’t been you and i. It’s been you and him. What’s gonna happen when your married? I’ll never see you”

you frown. You didn’t know Ron felt this way at all. It wasn’t as surprising though to be honest “Ron. Your my brother and i love you dearly. I’ll never forget about you or George, Fred, Percy, Ginny, Bill, and Charlie. Your my family. If your ever feeling alone. Just talk to me, okay?”

your words seemed to cheer Ron up. He nods and looks over at the group once more “Let’s do this.” he said and stood up.

☼-🐍-☼

after dinner the whole family including the lovers were in the living room again, passing out gifts. You watch as a square shaped box decorated with orange wrapping paper and a red bow floated from out a room and into each and every ones laps “oh wow, i wonder what these could be”

George spoke sarcastically before getting wacked on the head by Molly. You chuckle and look over at Draco who stared at aw in the christmas gift in his lap “Are you alright my boy?” Arthur spoke up. Draco looks up and nods eagerly “I’ve never gotten a real christmas gift before. My mother snuck me sweets and such, but never anything like this”

Molly gave Draco a look of solace before smiling “Well, i hope you enjoy this one! Now kids open them up!” she shouts and you all start to rip open the wrapping paper and you saw a deep red sweater with your first initial on it. Every year. The Weasley kids slip on there sweaters “Thanks mum!”

after slipping yours on, you look over at Draco who had a emerald green sweater in his hands with the letter ‘D’ on it. He looked excited as he takes off his quidditch sweater to put on Molly’s. “Do you like it Draco?” you spoke “i absolutely love it” he a wide smile spreads across his face.

Luna got a baby blue sweater

Hermione got a deep red one as well

Fleur got a white sweater

Pansy got a emerald green sweater as well as Draco.

Pansy slipped hers on and nods smugly “i look awesome. I’m never taking it off. You’ll have to kill me first!” she exclaims as Ginny laughs beside her “She’s not joking either” Luna pulls the sweater over her head and wraps her arms around herself “So warm” she mumbles in her soft voice.

George smiles brightly and wraps his arms around her “Your so cute” he says before kissing the side of her face. Fleur looked down at the sweater on her and smiles warmly “I adore it” she spoke in her thick accent and Bill nods before grabbing her hand to kiss her knuckles.

Molly clapped happily “I’m so glad you all like it. Now me and Arthur are going to get the christmas cookies from the kitchen. We’ll be right back out!” she announces before leaving the room. Everyone began to talk amongst each other and while you were distracted Draco snuck off into the kitchen.

☼-🐍-☼

“Um hello” he spoke up. Molly turns around and places the icing bag she was holding on the counter. “Ah Draco! Did you need something?” she asked, waving her hand for him to step closer. Draco walks over and immediately felt a cold shiver run up his spine. He was nervous.

“I wanted to ask you both something?” he says, gulping. Arthur and Molly look at each other before smiling “Sure, go ahead” Arthur spoke. Draco takes a deep breath to calm his nerves “Me and Y/n have been dating for three years now and i know we only just turned 18, but i wanted to ask for your blessing to marry her when the time is right”

Molly gasped loudly, before covering her mouth “Oh Draco! We would be more than happy to give you our blessing. She talks about you all the time and you had been nothing but kind to her and our family. I know you are much different then your father. you’ve learn to accept and adapt”

Draco felt as if a weight has been lifted off his shoulders and he smiles “Thank you so much. Uh- can i help ice those? If you’ll teach me how?” he laughs nervously and Molly nods.

☼-🐍-☼

ten minutes later Draco came out holding a tray of cookies with your parents. You smile lightly at the sight. How cute. He places the tray down on the floor where the group sat and everyone began to much on cookies, except for Fred and George. Where had they gone off too? Draco takes a seat next to you.

he hands you a cookie and you smile, taking a bite “You snuck away to ice cookies with my parents?” you ask, laughing a little. He nods with a smile and pecks your lips quickly, “Seemed fun” he replied nonchalantly. You roll your eyes and continue to eat your cookie in piece.

after everyone ate one Molly shot up from the sofa and gasped “Godric! We forgot Y/n’s present outside!” she exclaims, causing everyone to look at her. You tilt your head “What present?” you ask. “We all pitched in and got you a present. It’s so big we have to show you outside” Arthur spoke.

you were now thoroughly confused as everybody made there way to the front door and walking out. Draco grabs your hand and lifts you up from the ground. You both walk outside and see George and Fred on both sides of a tall present, wrapped in orange paper with your name written in red ink.

you laugh nervously. What was going on? “Um- do i open it?” you ask and Ginny nods, pushing you forward “Go on! Open it!” she shouts. You watch as George and Fred walk away from the present and behind you. “we suggest to pull the red ribbon then step back” George points out.

you chuckle with a confused expression before taking the end of the ribbon and tug it once. You hear a couple clicks and step back quickly as the box falls apart. A tall male with orange hair and a red sweater with a ‘C’ smiles at you. Charlie. You watch as he steps out the box and opens his arms.

“Hello my little dragon” he smile brightly as you ran up and tackled him into a hug. He lifts you off the ground and spins you around as you cling onto him. After a couple seconds he lets go and eyes you up and down “You’ve gotten so tall! and your hair is different. I also hear you have a boyfriend” he teases.

you smile widely and nod “Yeah. He’s hear. Um- Draco!” you turn around and call for your boyfriend who steps towards you, holding out his hand “I’m Draco Malfoy” he says politely as they both shake hands “I’m Charlie! I hope my little sister hasn’t annoyed you too much. She’s mental this one”

you huff and wack your older brothers arm “Hey! Don’t scare him off!” you shout, making Charlie laugh. He shrugs his shoulders “I don’t think he’s going anywhere. Your in for the long hall Malfoy. Welcome to the Weasley’s!” he exclaims and Draco smiles as he wraps an arm around your shoulders.

☼-🐍-☼

the party came to an end and everyone made there way to there perspective rooms. There was surprisingly enough room for everyone, to be fair your pretty sure that your father used a spell to add some extra rooms of some sort. You put on black and white flannel pants with a black crop top, as well as a dark grey jacket.

Draco had on a black t-shirt and his boxers. You yawn as you began to fold up your sweater and place it in your trunk. You feel hands wrap around your waist and pull you close to his chest. “I had fun tonight” Draco mumbles against the skin of your shoulder since your jacket had slipped down your arms a bit.

you smile and lean your head back to look at him “You did? I’m happy. I’m also happy i got to see my brother” you spoke with a warm smile. Draco hums in response and slowly begins to pull the jacket off of your arms “I promised my mum no funny business while were here Draco”

he smirks and begins to place sweet kisses on your neck “You may have promised that, but i didn’t darling” he rasps. You feel one of his hands run across the exposed skin of your stomach as his thumb traces the hem of your pants. “Why are you always horny?” you asked.

“I don’t know? Have you seen yourself?” he chuckles as he spins you around to face him “Come on darling~” he coos and dips down to kiss your collar bone. “I-” “-Goodnight Y/n. Goodnight Draco!” you heard Charlie, Percy, and Fred shout. Oh those little shits.

you flush in embarrassment and sputter out a goodnight back as Draco growls in frustration. “Cockblockers” he snarls, making you laugh. “Don’t worry, there going to do it to every couple in here. Didn’t expect Percy too though, just listen” you say and Draco keep quiet to listen.

“Night Ginny. Night Pansy!”

“Go away were busy!” Ginny shouts

“Sleep tight Fleur and Bill!”

“You all are insufferable!” Bill yells making you snicker a bit

“We don’t have to worry about Ron and Hermione. Ron has got like zero game” Fred speaks and they all laugh.

“Hey i heard that!” Ron shrieks in offense.

“Sleep well George! Sleep well Luna!”

“You guys can’t pull this shit on me! Shove off!” George shouts and you hear a door slam.

“Goodnight” Luna says. What a sweet girl

☼-🐍-☼

Kody: I hope you enjoyed this one. I really liked writing it! Anyways peace.

432 notes · View notes

a-small-batch-of-dragons · 3 years

Text

Dumb Luck

Prompt: the usual "Everyone knows Merlin has Magic but Merlin doesn't know they know" but Arthur's being really fucking thick about it. Everything that could possibly be magic Arthur has brushed off as luck or something. At some point Merlin realizes that the knights know (or maybe he's known all along) and the knights tell Merlin that Arthur knows but he's being stupid, which leads to Merlin performing increasingly extravagant/impressive/silly magic in front of Arthur until the point Arthur just asks if Merlin would like him to acknowledge the fact that he doesn't care that Merlin has magic

no brain cells for these boys, leon stop hoarding them

Read on Ao3

Warnings: none!

Pairings: merthur, can be platonic or romantic who tf knows

Word Count: 2943

Alright. Merlin’s going to be honest. Is the absolute best at hiding his magic from people? No. Is he a damn sight near better than some other bastards would be if they had his magic? Yes, yes, he is, thank you very much. They would do quite well to remember that he is magic, and he’s had it since he was born, so he knows what he’s doing when it comes to knowing that he has it. Yes, thank you, he doesn’t go around doing every single thing he could with magic because well, then he’d never get to do much of anything ever again.

And that would be boring.

But yes, maybe he’s a little petty or lazy sometimes. Honestly, he’s just being efficient. Yes, he can justify pettiness as efficient. He’s just getting them back for something that he would otherwise have to expend so much effort doing. It’s very handy.

So the knights work out he has magic. Big surprise there, he knows. Lancelot is Lancelot, Gwaine is Gwaine. Percival stumbles in on him lifting too much a little too easily and cracks a joke about having Merlin pull his weight more on hunting trips and patrols. Elyan watches him fix armor and immediately clamors to bring Merlin to his and Gwen’s forge so he can actually show him how to fix armor.

Leon takes him aside quietly one day and thanks him. Merlin doesn’t start crying, he doesn’t end up breaking down into Leon’s arms, and Leon definitely doesn’t promise that although Merlin may not have been knighted, he thinks of him as his brother in arms.

Leon is very rude sometimes, as a matter of fact.

But Arthur doesn’t seem to notice.

Now, Arthur doesn’t notice a lot. Doesn’t notice Merlin shifting his chair a little bit so he crashes onto the floor, doesn’t notice Gwen spending just a hair too much time with Morgana in the evenings, doesn’t notice the guards that don’t even pay attention to the dungeons. Like, at all.

But there are some things he…should notice.

Like when a branch suddenly lifts itself up from a forest floor to trip a bandit.

“Bandits,” Merlin mutters under his breath, “why is it always bandits?”

He deflects a blow and sends one of them flying into a tree. Behind him, Elyan parries a blow and deftly clubs the man over the head. Arthur is battling another bandit a few paces away as one tries to run up behind him.

Merlin’s hand is out in a flash and the tree branch right in front of Arthur wheels up and smacks the man across the face.

Arthur whirls around and cuts the other man down, successfully putting an end to the fight. Around the clearing, the knights shake their heads and go about picking up the rest of their camp. Really, being far too calm for men who just killed a bunch of people.

Except for Merlin.

Merlin, while this is happening, is slowly coming to the conclusion that he would like to be swallowed up by the ground and never emerge again.

He just used magic, very obviously, in front of Arthur.

Is this the first time he’s done it? No, not by a long shot, but it is the first time he’s done it without any regard for whether Arthur can see.

Arthur turns and Merlin’s heart drops to his stomach.

Arthur wrenches his sword out of the ground and stalks over to him.

Arthur roughly grabs his shoulder. Shakes. Hard.

“Merlin! Merlin, answer me?”

“…Arthur?”

Arthur’s face is drawn. Grim. Almost his father’s. His grip hurts.

“Where are you hurt?”

Merlin blinks. What? Where is he what?

“Where is it, Merlin,” Arthur growls again, already looking him over, “where did they hurt you?”

“I’m—I’m not hurt.”

“You’re paler than a damn sheet, Merlin, you must be losing blood.” Arthur’s hand is…surprisingly gentle as it lifts his chin. “Tell me where. Come on. Now’s not the time for shame.”

“No, no,” Merlin mumbles, “I’m not—not hurt. Didn’t get hurt.”

Arthur slows, grim expression morphing to confusion. “Then why do you look so…”

If in doubt, poke fun at yourself.

“Just scared, I guess,” Merlin tries with a self-deprecating laugh, “wasn’t expecting bandits.”

Arthur huffs, lightly shoving his shoulder. “Leave it to you to be such a drama queen that I think you’re bleeding out.”

“’S nice of you to care.”

“Just glad I don’t have to drag your corpse back to Gaius.”

So that was…bizarre. Not the most bizarre thing that’s ever happened to Merlin, not at all, but bizarre. Arthur may be a little unobservant at times but he’s not that oblivious.

But, in fairness to him—which is something Merlin tries not to do too often—he was in the middle of a fight and had just killed a man. Knights may not be known for the smarts but they are known for their overprotectiveness.

Yes, he can hear you lot protesting over there, it’s true and you know it.

And maybe…maybe Merlin’s been getting a little sick of Gaius screaming about how secret his magic must be kept in broad daylight with the door wide open. Listen, if you think he’s about to get scolded by your parental unit and not immediately find some way to rebel, you don’t know Merlin very well.

And yes, maybe there’s a sick little thrill he gets out of doing magic in front of Arthur.

Maybe.

So. The next time they’re on a hunting trip and he’s as sure as he can be that there aren’t any bandits around, he decides to push a little bit.

Arthur is lounging around because you can take the prince out of the castle but you can’t take the castle out of the prince and he thinks he’s still about to receive the finest of dishes that Camelot’s kitchens can prepare. Well, no, but he is about to not have to cook it himself.

“Light the fire, Merlin, it’s not that hard.”

“Have you ever lit a fire a day in your life?”

“Sure, when I was training.”

“Training? You needed training to learn how to light a fire?”

“It was survival training, with the elder knights. Had to survive a night on my own.”

“On your own?”

“Well, my own campsite. They stayed about a league away.”

Merlin just sighs and crouches down. He eyes Arthur, who is tending to his sword, and then very slowly but pointedly sets the flint and steel aside. Arthur isn’t paying much attention to him.

Slowly, Merlin leans forward and lights the fire with his magic.

Arthur looks up. Merlin looks back at him. Arthur swings the sword off his lap. He sets it on the log, his hand still wrapped around the pommel. The tip of the blade points straight at Merlin’s chest. It gleams in the firelight.

“See? I told you it wasn’t hard.”

Is…is he serious?

As it turns out, yes. Arthur is completely serious.

And at this point, this is science, now, what Merlin’s doing. Experiments. He has to know the limits! He has a hypothesis, he has a method, he wants to reach a conclusion.

Hypothesis: Arthur is really, really oblivious to anything magical.

Method: do increasingly obvious magic in front of Arthur until he notices.

Conclusion: how oblivious is Arthur?

An important caveat: Merlin doesn’t know how Arthur will react to finding out he has magic, but he can burn that bridge when he gets there.

So when he wakes Arthur up the next morning, he draws the curtains with a flourish and when Arthur turns over and pulls the blanket up to his cheek in protest, he flicks his wrist and yanks the covers off the bed.

What does Arthur do?

Mumble and groan and stumble out of bed saying Merlin’s worse than his first governess.

“Wait, first?”

“Morgana and I snuck a toad into her bed. She quit after that.”

“You two did what?”

“Think there’s still frog spawn in that bed frame. Father had that chamber closed off for a while.”

“You—eat your breakfast, you prat.”

“You’re the one that pulled my blankets away!”

…okay, so he needs to take it up a notch.

One of the ones that pisses Gaius off the most is when Merlin uses magic to polish multiple pieces of Arthur’s armor at the same time. So when Arthur is at his desk, Merlin lays his shield across his lap and grabs two polishing rags. He sets the can of polish next to him and starts working on the shield. When he’s sure Arthur is focusing, he uses his magic to lift the breastplate up next to him and start to beat out the dents.

“Merlin,” Arthur sighs, “can you keep it down any?”

Showtime. “Don’t know what you mean, sire.”

“That bloody racket! Can you at least be a little quieter?”

“What racket?”

Arthur shoves the paper away from him and glares at the ceiling. “That banging! It’s so loud I can barely hear myself think!”

“It’s no louder than you normally are, sire.”

“Oh, you—I ought to—“ Arthur just mutters to himself as he claps his hands over his ears.

But he never looks toward Merlin.

Huh.

So maybe Arthur isn’t ignoring him because he’s oblivious. Maybe…maybe he knows already and is…is trying to protect Merlin.

Uther is still King of Camelot. Morgana is outspoken against his cruelty but he is still very much in charge. There’s only so much protection the knights can afford him. There’s only so much protection Arthur can afford him.

So…so maybe Arthur is pretending he doesn’t see because he knows he can’t save Merlin if he has to acknowledge it.

Merlin takes a few days to process that. The knights are concerned, they ask him what’s wrong, what does he need, how can they help? He waves them off, says he’s just thinking.

“Maybe,” Lancelot says kindly, “but with you, Merlin, you’re never just thinking.”

“Or at least it doesn’t stay that way for very long,” Gwaine agrees, slinging an arm around Merlin’s shoulders, “and I don’t know about you lot but I like a little bit of forewarning before I wake up to ale in my shoes.”

“You asked for another round, you didn’t say where.”

“Why the hell would I want them in my shoes?”

Gwaine does what Gwaine always does and steers the attention away from Merlin, leaving Leon and Lancelot to carefully prod him a little more privately. He waves them off too, even though he’s sure he isn’t keeping as much as he would like to be from Leon.

Merlin stops using his magic as much. He does his chores as much as he can using his two hands, lugs buckets of water without complaint, polishes armor until his nose burns and his eyes sting. He uses his magic for particularly stubborn stains in his room and keeps a sharper eye out for how to move this bandit’s sword a little to the right, or how to make this knight’s staff a little heavier.

He thinks Arthur is trying to hide for him, so he hides for Arthur.

Then he can’t hide.

A sorcerer is threatening to collapse the walls of Camelot in on themselves. The entire citadel shakes as Merlin and the knights rush out, dragging as many people as they can. The stone trembles and the wood groans and there are screams. More screams than Merlin could ever bear to hear join the chorus of more than he could ever know that plague him every time he closes his eyes.

He shuts them anyway and runs.

He runs away from the knights, magic pushing him faster, faster, faster with the need to protect the castle, protect the people, protect Arthur. The sorcerer is pulling him away from his people and for that…for that, he must pay.

By the time he gets to the field, it is rippling with magic. Merlin’s fingertips, his ears, even his nose tingles as he rushes deeper, deeper, deeper, trying to get to the eye of the storm.

There, in the middle of a patch of grass, stands a sorcerer. In robes deeper than night and hair whipped up in the wind of the spell.

Merlin grits his teeth and says no.

And when the Greatest Sorcerer to Ever Walk the Earth calls, Magic answers.

The sorcerer is dust before he manages to open his mouth. The field settles. Magic returns to the earth. And Merlin collapses to his knees as the knights run up behind him.

He isn’t a fool, despite what others may have led you to believe. He knows this was magic, could only be magic, and could only be stopped by magic.

So when the knights rush up to him and collapse to their knees around him, muttering that he’s alright, he did it, he’s safe, he did it, is he hurt, all he can think of is how he’s going to have to explain this to Arthur.

They tell him he doesn’t need to explain anything. That Arthur already knows, that he doesn’t care.

Merlin doesn’t believe them. Even if he saved Camelot, which he’s already done, he has magic. He used magic to do it.

They tell him again that it doesn’t matter, that Arthur doesn’t, won’t care.

But Merlin still has to tell him.

“Tell me what?”

+1.

Arthur rushes into the clearing. He can hear him behind them. He can’t find it in him to get up. The knights are still around him, he can hear Lancelot’s voice in his ear, feel Leon’s hands on his shoulders, but he can’t move. Can’t speak.

“Tell me what,” Arthur repeats, and oh, he sounds angry, “what is it?”

“Merlin,” someone—Gwaine—is muttering, “Merlin, it’s alright, he won’t care, he doesn’t care—“

“Of course I care,” comes the cold, cold voice and Gwaine falters, “now move.”

Merlin’s chest clenches. There’s the sharp sing of steel as Gwaine draws his sword.

“Put it down.”

“Nope, can’t do that.”

Then Leon stands up. “Arthur, please think carefully about this.”

“I don’t have to think carefully about anything. Merlin is hurt, let me tend to him. He’s mine.”

“You won’t hurt him.”

“No, I certainly don’t intend to, so move.”

Lancelot’s hands are the last to leave him. Merlin is cold. It’s so cold. His magic buries deep inside his chest and it feels hard to breathe.

Boots. Boots on the ground in front of him. They flatten the grass as a shadow blocks the light. Armor creaks as the figure kneels down. A gauntleted hand cups his chin.

“Merlin,” comes a voice that’s soft, too soft, “Merlin, I need you to look at me.”

And what is he supposed to do, disobey?

Arthur’s face is too warm when Merlin looks up at him. His mouth tugs up into a little smile as Merlin finally makes eye contact with him.

“There you are,” he says, still in that soft voice that doesn’t make sense, “now, are you hurt?”

Merlin can only blink.

“Merlin,” he says, and his voice is a little firmer as he cups Merlin’s chin properly, “are you hurt? What happened?”

His throat is too dry. “Not hurt.”

Arthur relaxes, only marginally. “Then why do you look so upset?”

The world could collapse and Merlin would be frozen here, trapped in the silence of Arthur’s gaze.

Unbidden, his eyes flash gold.

Arthur takes a sharp breath in. Merlin braces for a hit only for—

“Oh, you idiot,” Arthur whispers, “do I actually need to tell you I don’t care if you have magic?”

Pause.

Go back.

One more time.

What?

“I don’t care, you idiot,” he says in a tone that is too fond, “I don’t care that you have magic. You have it, you’re still Merlin, I don’t care.”

Rough metal gauntlets cup his face and oh—it’s cold—

“Merlin, look at me.”

“I—I am.”

“No, look.”

He blinks and has to focus on looking at Arthur.

“I’m not mad,” Arthur says firmly, “and I don’t care that you have magic.”

Merlin starts to laugh. Because of course, of course, Arthur doesn’t care. He’s been so stupid. Arthur doesn’t care. Arthur doesn’t care. He’s doubled over before he can stop himself. The laughs keep pouring out of him, his magic rushing back to his fingers, his nose, his chest. He laughs long and loud and hard and then Arthur is murmuring at him again because no, no, he isn’t laughing anymore, he’s crying.

“Come here, you big baby,” Arthur murmurs, tucking him into the gentlest embrace he’s ever had from someone wearing armor, “yes, there you go, that’s it.”

He doesn’t care. He doesn’t care.

Arthur has known Merlin has magic and he doesn’t care.

…wait, does that make Merlin the oblivious one?

Nah, that couldn’t be it.

It’s not like Arthur is hiding anything else from Merlin.

#dragonbabbles #fic #merlin #merlin bbc #bbc merlin #merthur #merthur fic #arthur pendragon

140 notes · View notes

dtyfp · 2 years

Text

Weakness

Lily masterlist

It all happened so fast, at least, that's what Taeyong told everyone when they asked.

Lily hadn't been feeling well, which wasn't unusual considering, but once her breaths began to sound more like wheezes, Taeyong had decided to take her to SM's in-house infirmary. In all their years together, they haven't seen her like this so obviously it was cause for worry. Yuta had accompanied them, deciding that he needed a small break before getting back to it. But on their way, she had collapsed in a fit of coughs of blood. An ambulance was called fast enough and so that's where they were. In a hospital, other SM idols coming for support while every NCT member paced the room. Even the newer ones, some of the members from WayV who weren't particularly close with Lily yet, looked weary.

The doctors had told them they couldn't tell them anything, because they weren't family or something along the lines of that. Major Arthur Locke was coming from England, but that would take nearly 13 hours. They wouldn't even tell them if she was alive-

"She's only 19! She's barely an adult-"

"But she is, an adult, I mean. Your name isn't on her documents. Unless you can bring forward another family member, after a James and Theodore who are deceased, there's an Arthur Locke who said he's getting on the first plane out. You'll have to wait," the doctors tell Taeyong who was at his wits end. Johnny was on the phone with someone, glancing around his members every now and then as he spoke.

"Damn it. I told her to update her papers, but we've been so busy...she said she'd do it after the tours," Taeyong sighs as he runs his fingers through his hair for the umpteenth time.

"Arthur's at the airport, he'll be on a plane soon," Johnny tells everyone as he tosses his phone aside.

Taeyong sits back down, and the silence ensues once more. Members of EXO, Super Junior, SNSD, Shinee, Red Velvet, and even BoA sat around, looking anxiously across. The Dream members had come as soon as they heard and surrounded Mark the second they arrived, even Haechan sat with them as Mark was telling them things Yuta couldn't quite hear. From the looks of it, some of them looked to be on the verge of tears. The other 127 members sat quietly, unable to speak.

Yuta looks down at his hands, covered in her blood. His shirt was messy as well but he had hardly cared until now. His hands were embedded with Lily's blood, he had held her hand until he was forced back, he had told her she'd be just fine but she looked scared. She looked scared like he's never seen her. When the realization hits that it's Lily, little Lily who liked to take care of him when it should have been the opposite way around, who was always quiet but liked to talk with him, who began learning Japanese for the sole reason he had once said he wished he had a Japanese friend to talk to, who made him smile every single day since he's met her, his eyes begin to fill with tears as he picks at his skin and tries to rub the dried blood off.

"She'll be fine," Taeil tells him once he realizes the anxiety. He places his hand over Yuta's to stop the overzealous picking.

"I know, but it's Lily," Yuta sighs.

"It's Lily," Taeil nods, seemingly understanding everything from those two simple worlds. 'It's Lily' seems to be a complete sentence, everyone always understood what they meant. It's Lily, and her kindness. It's Lily, and her persistence. It's Lily. She was an anomaly, there wasn't any other way to describe her.

"Why don't we go wash your hands," Taeil suggests. He helps Yuta up and takes off his blood soaked sweatshirt. No one even notices them until Yuta is forcibly shoving his sweater into the nearest trash can and giving it a few good kicks for added measure.

"Do you feel better?" Taeil asks, wincing slightly as he looks down at the bent metal trashcan. Yuta ignores the faint pain in his toe, it was distracting from the pain in his chest.

"Yeah, actually, I do. Sorry," Yuta, heaving heavily, half heartedly apologizes to the others in the room before Taeil guides him out and away.

"...It doesn't change anything, Lily will be fine. You already know what she would say if she saw all of us like this," Mark tells the other Dreamies after turning his head back to them.

"...Not to worry until we have something to worry about," Renjun sighs.

"Exactly, we don't know anything yet. She could be perfectly fine. Let's all just take a breath, relax, and wait," Mark tells the others, placing a comforting hand on Jisung's shoulders. Mark isn't sure if the others believe him or not, he isn't sure if he believes himself actually, but he knew the last thing Lily would want is for them to worry. He could be right. He hoped he was right.

"They're right, you know? We aren't her family. We've known her for like three years," Jaemin mutters as he kicks his feet. They had nearly forgotten they hadn't known Lily until right before their debut. While some of them have known each other for nearly 10 years, have trained together, Lily hadn't. She was just some girl that was thrown in with the rest of them. They loved her, honestly, truly, wholeheartedly, and each and every one of them thought of her like a sister. But it didn't change the facts, they've known her for barely three years.

Without the reminder, they would have said they'd known her their entire lives. Not even their own moms knew them as well as Lily did.

"You know what Lily thinks of us, and what you think of her. The years don't matter and some random piece of paper don't matter. No one has ever done what the 8 of us have. She'll be fine, don't think like that," Mark tells them, frowning a little at the insinuation. In the short amount of time they've been together, Mark had put her and Nabi on the same pedestal. When people asked about his sister, he always answered with both. It was a crude reminder that in fact, she technically wasn't. But Mark had never been a fan of technicalities.

With a sigh, the Dreamies get settled, ignoring Mark's suggestion of going home until the morning since they wouldn't know anything anyway. Renjun pulls out his notepad and begins mindlessly drawing. When he was going through a hard time, Lily was the one that encouraged to find help and through that help, he discovered art therapy. He had already loved creating, but now it could be channeled into something more productive. What Lily noticed, and later shared with Mark, is that Renjun picked it up a lot more during times of stress. So even without saying anything, Mark knew Renjun was more afraid then he let on. He didn't know what to say to him, Lily would've known what to say to him.

"I saw a vending machine down the hall, Rock Paper Scissors to see who gets the drinks? You lose if you don't play, Rock Paper Scissors," with that, all 7 boys throw out a sign. No one wins the first round, then Jeno and Chenle, then Haechan, Jisung, Renjun, and Jaemin. Mark doesn't know how he keeps losing, especially considering Jaemin always throws rock.

"It's always the one that offers first," Haechan grins triumphantly.

"I was going to get it anyway," Mark rebuts as he gets up and heads out. NCT Dream were nothing without Rock Paper Scissors, it was a staple in their friendship. The simply game definitely helped lift the mood, giving a sense of normalcy.

"Hey, you alright?" Kai asks as he follows Mark out. Mark glances over at his senior, who he wasn't particularly close with until SuperM preparations, and nods. The three eldest members of SuperM couldn't help but become quickly and fiercely fond of their maknae duo, who brought smiles and made weird English jokes no one understood but the other.

"Fine, just worried I think," Mark shrugs as he punches in a few numbers to get drinks out. He wants to just walk down the hall where he knows she is and look, but he can't. She was so close, yet so far.

"What did you mean when you said Lily has a few conditions?" Kai asks curiously, unable to help but overhear.

"She was born premature, I guess it messed up her heart and lungs. She doesn't really like talking about it but she's usually fine, just a little slower then the rest...Maybe don't mention I told you, she doesn't like it when people start treating her differently," Mark tells Kai hesitantly. Kai nods understandingly and leans against the wall as Mark grabs a few drinks.

"You're good at being leader, maybe you should become SuperM's," Kai suggests, having watched Mark control the others since he got here.

"I'm not Dream's leader anymore, I graduated, and the only reason I survived them is because of Lily. They can be pretty brutal," Mark tells him with a nostalgic laugh.

"Nonsense, you'll always be their leader. They all flock to you. Maybe it's a little different, but once you're a leader you always are," Kai assures him, patting his back lightly. From what he saw this year and last, the graduation system seemed cruel to him. Why would you create such an unbreakable bond between young boys who grew up together, only to separate them?

"Maybe you should be SuperM's," Kai suggests.

"I thought Baekhyun or Taemin would get it. You could do it too," Mark shrugs.

"I don't want it and I don't think Taemin does either. And, Baekhyun will never be my leader, he'll be insufferable," Kai shivers at the thought. Mark laughs weakly, unlike the way Kai has seen him laugh before, so the elder bends down to grab the last few cans.

"Lily'll be fine. It's Lily," Kai assures him.

"You really think so? Because I've been trying not to freak out because if I freak out then the others will-"

"She'll be fine," Kai chuckles before Mark can start rambling.

"Thanks, hyung, for coming out here," Mark sighs, seemingly taking his first breath in hours. He knew Kai had come out for more then just information, but to make sure the younger boy he had grown to see as a younger brother was okay.

"We're a team now, aren't we? What are friends for?" Kai smiles as he hands the drinks over and opens the door for Mark.

Kai returns back to his own members and Taemin, sat for comfort and to keep out of the public's eye. SM had canceled everyone's schedules in fear news of Lily's condition would be leaked.

"Mark okay?" Taemin asks, glancing over at his new younger member. Taemin had never had a maknae before, always having been the youngest in his own group. He gets why his own members are always a little protective over him, especially when he was younger.

"He'll be fine," Kai nods.

"Kyungsoo and Minseok are texting me nonstop. I thought they weren't allowed phones in the military," Chanyeol sighs as he texts them back.

"They're probably on break, they're just worried. Minho, Kibum, and Onew have been texting me too," Taemin admits. He hasn't seen his members this worried since...since.

"Yah, you've been quiet since we got here. What are you thinking about?" Winnie asks her brother, nudging his shoulder enough he nearly fumbles his phone. He had come with his sister since they were together when they heard the news about Lily.

"Me? Nothing," Atticus shakes his head. No one knew about them, not any of their members, not anyone. But Atticus suspected his sister knew something. Their relationship consisted of nights spent in his apartment, secret electric touches when they knew no one was looking, whispers, and texts. When he was away in Tampa, they texted nearly every day. Their relationship, which they agreed would be FWB, wasn't conventional by any means. She would stay the entire night, sometimes she'd stay long enough to have breakfast with him, they would kiss without even being intimate, and sometimes when Atticus would wake up before her he'd just stare at her peace, afraid to touch and mar it. When she'd wake and ask why he was staring, he'd say nothing but the truth, and the truth was he thought she was beautiful. She'd blush, of course, and hide her face. He, of course, knew all about her conditions but it never stopped him. She liked that it didn't stop him, and he continued to love her with the same intensity and passion as before.

They never discussed a relationship before, not with their schedules, but now Atticus couldn't help but wonder if he was missing out. She could be dead for all he knew, and she would've gone without knowing he loved her. He loved her? It sounded foreign to him, to love, but he couldn't deny he did. His entire being yearned for Lily. He should've known earlier, when he caught himself waiting for her texts and smiling when she did without fail, but he didn't know until now. Until the possibility of losing her quite literally hit him in the chest.

But then, he looks across the room at her members, some already in tears, at Yeri being consoled by her members, and realizes that perhaps, just maybe, his feelings aren't as important.

#nct 24th member #24th member of nct #nct #nctdream #nct127 #superm #dtyfp

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stuckwith-harry · 3 years

Text

cried out to you alone

“It becomes a part of who you are”, Harry says, some sort of clarity coming to him. “Death, I mean. Grief. It doesn’t have to swallow you whole, but there is a little bit of it in every part of you.”

Impossible, is the only thing Harry can stand to think. That there is still sunlight in the world after everything.

Still, it pours out over the Burrow’s kitchen table in bright, luminous yellow, warming the veined wood. Harry and the Weasleys watch it creep over the tabletop, sitting elbow-to-elbow. Molly and Arthur are touching shoulders and brushing through hair as they pass around steaming mugs of tea, as they pour milk and stir in spoonfuls of sugar, the bags under their eyes swollen and purple like figs.

When Harry tries to open his mouth, to offer help, Molly quickly shakes her head at him; pleading. Like she wouldn’t know what else to do with herself.

So Harry stays, cramped between George and Ginny, and lets her place her palm on his back as she places his tea in front of him. Through the open window, a sweet-smelling breeze comes pouring in, the smell of warm soil and flowers and summer rapidly approaching, which seems impossible, too.

Tomorrow morning, they’re going to get out of bed and make breakfast. They’re going to feed the chicken in the yard, do the dishes and read the newspaper. Still, the sun is going to come up.

For a moment, he catches Ron’s gaze; Ron, whose face is oddly contorted and whose eyes are glassy and bright red. Harry can’t bear the sight of it: he stares at the old mug in his hands, examining the faded red dots, hand-painted. Anything that soothes.

Poppies, he realises. On the inside, near a chip at the rim, he can make out the small letters spelling out Ottery St. Catchpole, and below that, half-drowning in sweet tea: Flea Market, 1988.

A memory, then. One he wasn’t a part of, but one he can envision, anyway, the bright red summer day, the bustling and shuffling of the little village, the shrieking of children, strawberry ice cream rapidly melting and dripping on bare knees; a younger, happier Ron –

The scraping of a chair yanks him back, as Ginny abruptly gets to her feet and walks out without a word. No one tries to stop her, and the small, pathetic sound of her bedroom door closing from atop the stairs sounds down to them as though she slammed it.

After that, only silence. No pots stir in the kitchen sink, no footsteps thunder from several floors above, and no chatter, no yelling, no laughter holds the walls of the house together. No explosions sound from the twins’ room.

Death is an awfully quiet affair.

One by one, as the stripes on the tabletop grow long and orange, the Weasleys crawl into their hiding places. Harry knows he’s intruding, so he wanders outside, following the soft clucking of the chicken pecking away at the dirt behind their wooden fence, the only things alive and making a sound.

The solitude is a relief: he has never wished to flee the walls of the Burrow so desperately, only stayed long enough to change out of the black funeral robes and into an old Quidditch jumper. Then he pushed Ron’s bedroom door open far enough to slip out and disappear, and mercifully, Ron didn’t try to stop him, either.

The jumper is Ron’s, technically. It feels like being held, Gryffindor red and worn and entirely too large for Harry. Somehow that only makes him feel worse.

The Weasleys did not hesitate to take him home with them after the battle, because that was their way. They put up the old camp bed in Ron’s violently orange bedroom like they always had, and Ron silently handed him a pile of hand-me-downs so Harry would have something to wear other than the clothes that still reeked of the tent, of sweat and of blood.

Harry props his elbows up on the weathered fence and buries his face in the soft sleeves, breathing deeply. For a while, he simply listens as the hens, who do not know or care about anything, cluck away happily, as the urge to slip under the invisibility cloak, to disappear and never make a sound again, keeps on rushing over him.

“Hi.”

His heart jumps painfully into his throat at the quiet greeting and the sound of footsteps on dry grass that preceded it, and when he turns around to face it, he’s looking at Ginny. She’s changed out of her black dress robes, too, back into worn-out denim dungarees and a striped t-shirt. Scarlet and yellow. Her hair has come out of the braid from earlier and falls wildly to her collarbones again, no longer to her belly button, like it used to.

“I couldn’t stand the silence anymore”, she says, voice oddly throaty.

Harry wants to say, you don’t have to explain, but before he can, she pushes out: “And then I was in my room and it was just as fucking quiet, and I just – I didn’t know what to do with myself.”

She looks older, Harry thinks wildly. He hasn’t let himself look at her, not really, doesn’t even know why, just that he’s been avoiding her most of all. Ever since May 2nd, the quiet between them has stretched and stretched over miles and oceans and continents of wasteland. Harry knows it’s his fault, that he should say something, but he has no words, no words at all.

The first morning after the battle, when he came stumbling into the common room and found her there, they just held each other, and he had no words then, either. There was sunlight there, too, he remembers suddenly, poking through the shattered windows and lighting up every particle of dust floating around the empty room.

“Can we go somewhere else?”, she asks, pulling him out of his thoughts. “Anywhere else?”

Harry nods, mouth dry. For a moment, her eyes seem to linger on him, but then she turns away without another word, and he follows her lead without question or objection. They don’t speak again until they reach the old broomshed, and Ginny suddenly turns to look at him again, face unreadable.

“Any chance you wanna go for a fly?”

“Wh-What?”

She shrugs. “Do you?”

It’s a strange time capsule, the shed. Ginny pushes the wooden door open and sends flurries of dust into the air, catching sunlight; Harry, who is standing behind her, catches a glimpse of Arthur’s old Muggle trinkets and the old brooms lined up against the wall. Ron and Ginny’s are closest to the door; the twins’ brooms are up on a shelf opposite the square window.

For a moment, Ginny is perfectly still, and Harry knows she is looking at them, too. Then she reaches for her broom and silently pushes past him. Harry grabs Ron’s and closes the door of the shed behind him, and together they wander away from the Burrow, over the hills that surround it, where wild poppies are peeking through the unkempt grass and weeds.

Harry thinks he knows where she’s going: their makeshift Quidditch pitch hidden between gnarly old trees from summers long lost, where they used to chuck apples and tennis balls at each other, during all those afternoons spent playing Quidditch two against two.

Tall, sweet-smelling yarrow brushes along their bare shins as they walk, and pink clover, the soft heads bending back to the earth under the weight of bumblebees passing by, thick dandelion leaves spread all across the ground amidst the weeds; and everywhere poppies, peeking through the tall grass, the paper-thin petals fluttering in the breeze.

Tucked behind another hill, Harry remembers, a few minutes on foot further north, is the lake where they whiled away happier summer afternoons than this. The image comes to his mind in bright, sunny colours, Ginny’s wide, toothy grin as she sneaks up on Ron, the thundering splash and Hermione’s piercing shriek, and Ron, emerging, spluttering and yelling, his sopping hair plastered to his face.

But that was centuries ago, and their full-bellied laughter seems miles and countries away already. Here, only silence. Harry wants to ask, are you okay?, or say, it’s going to be alright, but what good would it do?

The poppies are early: they’re not supposed to bloom for another month. There’s no end to them, no matter how far they walk, a sea of red stretching out all over the soft hills. Harry can’t tear his eyes away until the first beech trees they used to climb, black pines and yews throw cool shadows over their heads.

Strange, that it looks the same. The leaves up above their heads rustle softly as they mount their brooms, and Ginny shoots into the air, a quiet cannon. For the better part of an hour, they zoom in circles through the rapidly cooling air, chucking an old Quaffle back and forth at each other. Ginny’s throws are hard and unrelenting: they’re not keeping score, but she’s playing like it’s the last game of the season, like the House Cup depends on it, so Harry lets her exhaust herself. By the time they sink back to the ground, the sky over the meadow is dotted in shades of pink and red.

Ginny hits the ground with such force her knees buckle under the impact and hit the dry grass. Harry gasps, but she is already getting up again, brushing off the dirt without comment.

They find a spot at the outer edge of the pitch and slump into the tall grass with their backs leaning against an oak tree, where they can see the sunset falling on the soft hills and the Burrow in the distance, bright red like poppies. Ginny’s hands are uselessly holding her ribs, her warm eyes staring off into nothing.

“Feel any better?”, Harry asks after a while.

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

She shifts next to him, tucking her scraped knees to her chest. They look like she’s spent all summer climbing trees and rolling down the grassy hills around the Burrow and crashing her broomstick into her brothers in a spectacular grab for the Quaffle.

“At least I feel a little less like I was buried with him”, she mutters.

I’m sorry, Harry wants to say, but that seems useless, too.

“I wanted to leave, too”, he says finally. “It was so quiet in there.”

“I hate it”, Ginny says softly. “It doesn’t feel anything like home when it’s like this.”

“I’m sorry”, he says despite himself, for what feels like the thousandth time since everything. “I shouldn’t be here.”

Ginny's brows furrow slightly, as if to say, yes, you should. “If you weren’t, I’d still be shut up in my room right now. Going mad, probably.”

After a short pause, she adds: “I wouldn’t know who to talk to.”

It strikes Harry like lightning: she was looking for him.

She looks over at him as though searching for something. Her brown eyes glow golden in the warm light, like honey, her whole face painted in reds and oranges and pinks.

“How do you do it?”, she asks finally, voice quiet, but steady, as the soft breeze continues to rush through the trees. “How do you lose everyone you’ve lost – and go on living? How do you live with the dead?”

Harry looks at her, the way she sits cross-legged and hunched over in the grass next to him, arms hugged to herself, and it sinks in, what she’s searching for, what she’s asking of him.

“It’s not the same”, he says softly.

She scoffs quietly. “How is that not the same?”

Harry looks around their hiding place. Maybe it’s the creaking of old branches around them, almost a murmur, the smell of the trees, that brings them back: his parents in the Forbidden Forest, walking towards him, Sirius’ bright grin, Dumbledore at King’s Cross Station.

The thought of them cuts through him, every beat of his heart sharp and stinging as they remain dead and he does not.

“Your speech”, he says finally, and watches her jaw clench. “I couldn’t have said anything like that about my parents – or Sirius …”

“I can’t believe I wrote him a fucking eulogy”, Ginny mutters, staring at the weeds to her feet, the patches of moss creeping across the earth under the wild, entangled grass. “It makes it feel so fucking final.”

“You did really well”, Harry says. “It was beautiful.”

She merely shrugs, and he doesn’t blame her.

“I’m glad I got to say something, I think”, she says after another stretch of silence. “But, Merlin, he was walking and talking and making jokes just a week ago, and now he’s six feet underground and I’ve written a double-sided page on how sorely he’ll be missed.”

She wipes her nose on the back of her sleeve.

“Up until today, I really thought he might jump up and laugh it off and make fun of us for falling for it.”

You made it feel like that today, he wants to say, but doesn’t.

“I’m so sorry, Ginny.”

She read it out with a completely steady voice, both fists clutching the slip of paper in her hand. She did not bother to find a silver lining this time, or to look for meaning at all; but every word seemed to bring Fred back to life a little, even earning a few teary chuckles from the other Weasleys. Every anecdote and every prank she recounted was a testament to the fact that Fred Weasley had been alive, that he had mattered, that he had left an impact on her, on all of them.

“You know my Mum had brothers”, Ginny says suddenly, looking over at Harry’s hands. “Fabian and Gideon Prewett.”

She points, and Harry realises what she’s really looking at: Fabian Prewett’s battered old watch on his arm.

“They died in the first war. Bill, Charlie and Percy say they remember them a little, but the rest of us just grew up hearing stories.”

She picks at the shallow wound on her knee, where droplets of bright red blood have pushed to the surface through the cracks in her freckled skin. “It’s why Fred and George are named after them. A little bit, anyway – you know, Fred and George … Fabian and Gideon … Mum was pregnant when they died.”

Harry swallows. “I didn’t know.”

Ginny smiles sadly. “I liked the idea that they got to live on in the twins a little. I never thought to ask Fred and George how they felt about it, actually. I can’t imagine … how Mum feels.”

Harry watches her wrap her arms around her legs, watches the strawberry blond hairs on her shins stand on end as the air cools around them. She looks tired, but her eyes are dry.

“I never made that connection”, he says softly.

“I don’t know why I’m telling you”, she says. “It seemed important.”

Even over the rustling of the trees, the chirping and creaking all around them, he can hear her clearly, her voice steady, unwavering.

“Do you miss him?”

“Yes.”

She looks around at him. “Do you not miss your parents?”

“I don’t know how”, Harry mutters. “Your speech … it was full of memories.”

She doesn’t respond, understanding silently. Then: “What about Sirius?”

Harry shrugs. “He never really got to be my godfather, did he? Not the way he was supposed to, anyway … there wasn’t time. And I don’t remember when my parents were alive – I’ve never known anything else.”

He looks at her, the way she’s quietly watching. “I’m sorry. I know that’s not what you were hoping to hear.”

Ginny dismisses it with a half-hearted gesture, lost in thoughts somewhere else.

“Do you think grieving someone is the same thing as missing them, then?”

“No … do you?”

She seems to consider it for a moment, then shakes her head.

“I just – I just want to talk to him and tell him what’s going on, and I think about how long it’s been since I’ve talked to him and how much I wish he were here and how I’m not gonna get to talk to him –”

She pauses mid-sentence, as though looking for words, and doesn’t find any.

“And then I think about the fact that he’s dead. That his life is over. And that I helped bury him today. And they’re both – awful, but it’s different, I guess.”

Harry nods, more to himself than to Ginny this time.

“And now, I just – I need to know what to do. So it doesn’t swallow me whole.”

Harry is still watching them walk towards him before his inner eye, his parents in the Forbidden Forest, his mother’s hungry face.

“I forget, sometimes”, he says. “For a moment, I think I forget they’re gone. Or I’m – I don’t know, distracted, and I’m not thinking about it – it slips away, and then it hits me again.”

Ginny’s teeth dig into her bottom lip. “I … honestly can’t fathom it right now.”

Harry looks over at her, the way she sits next to him, curled into herself, her hands still uselessly holding her ribs. Like it is physically hurting her.

“I dunno. Maybe forgetting is the wrong word. But when it happens, it always feels like it’s happening to someone else, like I am someone else.”

Ginny watches him intently as he stumbles to the end of his sentence: it feels pathetic already, having said it out loud like that.

“Like you are who you would’ve been if they hadn’t died?”, she asks, in that quietly remarkable way of hers, where she doesn’t treat him like something delicate, but she doesn’t ask for more than he can give, either.

“Yeah, I reckon. But I don’t recognise him at all.”

Ginny hums in understanding. She leans back against the bark of the tree and pulls her knees to herself again. “You would’ve been happier, anyway.”

Harry turns away at that, suddenly not trusting himself to speak.

“I know it doesn’t make sense or anything –”

“No, it does, Harry.”

“I mean, I know they couldn’t have lived. Everything would have to be different. We probably wouldn’t be here.”

Ginny sits in silence for a while.

“Do you ever wonder?”, she asks finally. “What you would’ve been like?”

“I guess … more like them. In ways I can recognise, anyway.”

He gestures helplessly at nothing, and Ginny takes that as a sign to push no further.

“I don’t recognise Ginny a week ago, either”, he hears her say, and the muffled sound of her voice tells him she’s wiping her nose on her sleeve again. “Every time something terrible happened, I guess I didn’t. It’s like remembering an old friend. One whose address you lost or something.”

“Cheery”, Ginny says in a hollow voice.

“It gets less all-consuming”, he says softly.

“Good”, she mutters. “Right now it’s pretty fucking all-consuming. It’s there when I wake up in the morning, and it’s – in my tea, and on all my clothes, and it’s in everyone I talk to and everything I say.”

Harry stares at the sky overhead, the red rapidly paling. Still, there is that whispering in the treetops, the feeling of being transported back into the Forbidden Forest. Still, his parents, reaching out for him.

“I’m sorry”, he says truthfully. “That’s all I’ve got.”

Ginny shakes her head. “It’s all I needed.”

He watches her tug at a poppy near her feet, struck by how long he’s managed to stay away from her, when her company is so comforting. The resolution comes to him all on its own, that he’s going to tell her everything. The Forbidden Forest. King’s Cross Station.

“Do you want to head back yet?”

Ginny looks at him, and she seems calmer somehow. For the first time since they got here, she doesn’t seem to be searching for anything – just looking.

“In a little while”, she says.

Harry looks back at her, really looks at her, and for a long time, neither of them speak, having arrived at some quiet understanding. Still, there’s a murmur in the trees around them, but they pay it no mind, and they don’t turn to look.

#i never posted it in obnoxious long text post form so :-)#here we are.#hinny #hp #fanfiction #cried out

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riahlynn101 · 2 years

Text

“When I’m Gone" (1).

Chapter One

Summary: “Vanessa just wants to protect her little brother, Gregory. That's been her job for years, so why does it feel like it's never enough.

A story about foster teen, Vanessa, her baby brother, Gregory, and the friends (and enemies) they make along the way.”

Side note: For the sake of this story, I'm going to be putting a basic timeline out. (This won't be following the canon timeline):

September 17th, 2002: Vanessa is born.

April 22nd, 2015: Gregory is born.

December 14th, 2024: the events of the main game

Funny how something as mundane as peeling paint can provide entertainment when you’re trying to avoid conversation. Vanessa shifts, stifling a cough. The last thing she needs is the adults in the room to look at her longer than necessary.

They sit in the living room. Not their living room, because that would include her. It doesn’t matter what Miss Arthur says, and how sweet she says it, and how many books or bars of chocolate she bribed her with, this house will never be home.

Miss Arthur looks at her now. She pretends not to notice and slouches down.

“That finishes up my inspection,” Mrs. Smith announces. She steps off the last step, a heap of papers, barely contained in a manilla folder, in her arms.

DHS has been sending a worker out to check out the house once a month. They usually just chat with Miss Arthur. Always with the vague excuse that they have another appointment to get to. It’s not like Vanessa wants them to traipse through the entirety of the house, searching for violations and signs of child abuse. Hell no, quite the opposite in fact.

But it feels strange that they insist on doing so many home visits at her one and only foster home that hasn’t added to her list of problems. She wants to ask them why their supervisors are making them impose, but she can’t think of a single way to word her thoughts without making Miss Arthur look suspicious.

So they sit together in the living room until the inspection is over. At least, this time, they sent out Mrs. Smith. She’s quick in looking around, preferring, instead, to take longer in talking with Miss Arthur. Nearly everyone else they send is impersonal, cold and indifferent in ways that seem off even for a profession such as theirs.

She’s eager to escape the living room, back to the bedroom. Once again, not her bedroom. Sure, Miss Arthur let her paint it violet, and took her shopping to pick out decorations and posters Vanessa has wanted since before she could remember, but that means little. Any day now Mrs. Smith would knock on the door, a pitying smile on her face, and tell her they’ve found another placement. She’ll be made to pack her things in a small backpack, and her collections of books and plushies from the pizzeria will be left to collect dust.

It’s pointless, really.

Vanessa stands from the floral-patterned couch that she’d been sitting on. She passes Mrs. Smith, giving her a lop-sided smile.

“Vanessa, we need to talk,” Mrs. Smith says, stopping her short.

The stairs creak as she shifts her weight on them. She thinks about making a run for it. Nothing good has ever come from the phrase, ‘we need to talk’. Every bad deed she’s ever committed comes to mind.

She turns around, trying to appear calm. “Coming,” she mumbles.

Mrs. Smith sighs. “You’re not in trouble, honey. Just we…I have some exciting news for you.”

“Okay.” Vanessa picks at the fabric of the couch, avoiding the grown ups' concerned expressions.

“There’s no easy way to tell you this, but your mother has recently given birth. And, as the court ruling has stated, she's unfit-not in the right state of mind to be taking care of an older child, let alone a newborn. Miss Arthur has agreed to take another child in. That’s exciting isn’t it?”

Vanessa wants to throw-up. The notion that her mother...no...she’s has never been her mother. That title is more befitting of someone like Miss Arthur, who lets her sleep with a night light without belittling her for such childish fears and tucks her in nearly every night. It’s hardly made for women who up and leave their children in busy shopping centers on purpose. But, still..

...her mother has moved on. Even if her new brother or sister is being removed nearly immediately, the feelings that she’s been replaced overwhelm her.

“I’m going to my-the room. Upstairs.” Vanessa is so, so dizzy, and when she stands, she nearly falls over.

Miss Arthur attempts to get her attention by grabbing her hand as she passes, but Vanessa can’t pay attention, can’t think about anything beyond the mortifying realization that she’s never leaving the foster system. All the promises her mother has ever made during half-hour visits in mostly-empty DHS rooms were made with every intention of not fulfilling them.

She runs up the stairs, and into the room. Behind her, she slams the door shut. Vanessa flops onto the bed, curling up.

The usual tranquility of her room doesn't seem to calm her down. She wants so badly to scream. Never before has she ever felt so angry and sad and betrayed all at the same time.

She wants to hurt her mother.

Vanessa thinks she might just forgive every bad thing her mother’s ever done if she’d just hold her.

X-x-x

It’s barely an hour later when she hears the front door open. The door’s old and in desperate need of WD-40. Miss Arthur often jokes that with doors like that, who needs security systems.

She looks out her window, which overlooks the front yard, and sees an unfamiliar man holding a carrier. Several seconds pass without it really clicking in her head. It takes the man handing the carrier off along with a small bag to Mrs. Smith that everything fits into place.

Nausea hits Vanessa, again, stronger than before.

They’re here, she thinks, stuck in place, my baby sibling is here. They’re here and they’re real.

She swallows, throat and mouth dry. There’s a soft knock at the door. Vanessa hums, hoping it’s loud enough for the person on the other side to hear.

“Vanessa, it’s me, I’m coming in,” Miss Arthur warns. She pushes the door open.

Suddenly ashamed, Vanessa continues to look out the window. She watches Miss Arthur walk further into the room, stopping a few feet behind her.

“Your sibling is here. I’m sure they’d love to meet-”

“-meet me? It’s a stupid baby. I doubt it wants anything,” Vanessa spits out, all the annoyance and irritation she’s been holding in all night spilling out. She whirls around, facing Miss Arthur, who looks shocked.

For some reason seeing her face makes Vanessa want to cry. “Miss Arthur, I’m sorry. I’m so...so sorry. I-I just...my mom…” Her chest hurts and the lump in her throat only seems to get bigger as she talks. “I want her back. I want my mom...it’s not fair!”

Miss Arthur steps forward, wrapping her arms around Vanessa. It’s then that Vanessa realizes that she’s started crying. She wants to feel ashamed, but Miss Arthur has always encouraged her to feel her emotions and not bottle them up.

Vanessa buries her face in Miss Arthur’s hand-knitted sweater. It’s light blue and so incredibly soft and smells heavily of the floral-scented perfume that seems to be Miss Arthur’s favorite. One hand pats her back and another soothes her hair.

“I’m sorry, honey. I didn’t think about how this would affect you. And you’re right this isn’t fair. I can tell them that this placement isn’t going to work.”

Vanessa stops short, pulling away. “No-no, you can’t! That’ll make me feel even worse,” Vanessa says, wiping away her tears even as they keep falling. “I’m fine now. See?”

Miss Arthur shakes her head, red curls bouncing with the effort. “It’s okay not to be fine, Vanessa. But if you insist…” she holds a hand out. “Your sibling awaits.”

X-x-x

Descending the stairs is one of the most nerve-wracking things she’s ever had to do in recent memory. Mrs. Smith has the carrier placed at her feet. A bundle, wrapped in white, is held in her arms. The only thing stopping Vanessa from turning around and hiding up in the bedroom is Miss Arthur’s comforting presence.

From here, Vanessa thinks she might see a shock of dark-colored hair peeking out from the blanket. Mrs. Smith smiles brightly at her.

“Vanessa, meet Gregory, your brother.” She hands the baby over to her, making sure Vanessa’s properly supporting his neck and back.

The first thing she notices is how warm he is.

The second is his cherubic-esque face. Complete with long eyelashes, chubby cheeks, and a button nose.

He’s managed to dig out one of his hands, and as a result Vanessa can see the top of a tiny fist sticking out of the blanket. Every so often his hands will slightly unclench and she’ll see his chubby, little fingers for a millisecond.

She looks up from Gregory, a smile on her face. It’s only then that she realizes that the adults had been watching with bated breaths.

“How do you feel?” Mrs.Smith asks.

Vanessa looks down at Gregory then up at Miss Arthur, considering her words. “Happy.”

#fnaf gregory #vanessa security breach #fnaf security breach #baby gregory #vanessa & Gregory #cross posted on ao3 #when i'm gone #Protective Vanessa #sibling angst #tw abandonment

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huppupbup · 2 years

Text

4 Times Arthur Found His Soulmates And 1 Time They Found Him

Merry Christmas @acornscorns!

Arthur hadn't expected to be a late bloomer in finding his soulmate.

Soulmate events had been on the decline for centuries before Arthur was even born. Most of his family didn't have soulmarks. They weren't born without seeing colors. They never experienced any of the strange signs used to draw destined souls together. Lance had never found a soulmate and seemed no worse off for it. Arthur's parents hadn't been soulmates. Some might have considered that the root of their problems, but Arthur was sure that it wouldn't have changed how their relationship ended. Being bound to someone by the universe wasn't needed for a fulfilling partnership. There was no reason to be concerned when his eighteenth birthday came and went without any supernatural fanfare.

His nineteenth was similarly mundane. And his twentieth.

Which was fine.

Arthur wasn't going to fret over a lack of a random happenstance put in place by who even knew what.

Except now the words 'Oh hello' were spelled out in tea leaves at the bottom of his paper cup. He didn't remember if there had been leaves in the chai tea special he ordered from the corner vendor two blocks back. There hadn't been any lumps or flaky textures while he'd been drinking. Manifesting tea leaves out of nowhere to let Arthur know he was about to have a fateful encounter was in theme, though.

He'd been contemplating throwing the cup away. It wouldn't stop anything. Arthur was going to meet someone for the first time, and they were going to say those words, and there wasn't anything either of them could do about that. But he didn't have to acknowledge this as anything other than meeting a new friend. Plenty of soulmates were platonic. He was going to be fine, they'd meet, and maybe he'd ask them for coffee and see how things played out. Maybe the two of them would click. Maybe they wouldn't.

Which was fine.

Arthur wove around a bookcase pulled onto the sidewalk and eyed another trashcan tucked in the corner of the store's doorway. He didn't need the cup. He should just toss it and pretend this never—

Oop!

He jerked short of walking into the steel legs of the ladder slanted in his path. Arthur only side-stepped it at the last second. The girl on it yelped at the same time, caught off guard by the sudden flailing of arms. Arthur saw her tilt backwards in alarm as if she was moving in slow motion. There was no thought after that.

He dropped his cup and threw out his arms.

She was heavier than he expected, landing against his chest with a whump! that knocked all his air out of his lungs. Arthur stumbled back and planted his feet. They were both shaking, and he took a moment to steady himself before glancing down at her.

...she was cute.

Small nose, curved mouth currently in the shape of a pout. Flushed cheeks, likely because of the scare. Tousled blue hair clung to a navy headband and her face was half-throttled by the matching scarf around her neck. He could barely see her eyes between the pink glasses that the fall had knocked askew and her burying her face in his shoulder. At a guess, Arthur would say they looked to be blue as well. She was wearing a thick sweater and pleated skirt, both varying shades of blue too. Pressed against his chest like this, he couldn't tell how tall she'd be in the mary jane heels she was wearing, but he'd put money on her being shorter than he was by roughly half a foot.

She was cute.

"You good?" He managed finally.

At that she looked up, and her glasses fell into place as she nodded. She sucked in a breathe of her own to speak, only to be interrupted by sudden loud barking and the appearance of a large white dog charging out of the store. Arthur started, then began to lift her up and out of the way of any teeth. The girl twisted in his arms and forced him to release her. She was already shushing what he guessed must have been the shop dog. He stepped back, just in case. She seemed alright and the dog was wagging its tail and whining, but that didn't mean much in the grand scheme. Arthur had met too many clients in the garage with dogs that never act like this, I swear.

She settled the dog and looked up at him. Then she went very still, blinking several times, and Arthur felt a stone drop into his stomach.

"Oh." She breathed out, rising to her feet slowly, and a smile too beautiful to be real bloomed across her face. "Hello!"

Arthur bolted.

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

Running away from a soulmate wasn't the dumbest thing Arthur had ever done. That honor belonged to the time he'd microwaved ice trying to get a cold drink when the faucet wasn't working and caused the cubes to explode.

That said, it was shaping up to land in the top ten.

He was expecting the crash. It was a well-known problem. He hadn't expected it to be quite so awful. Fleeing home like he had probably didn't help in either case. Arthur had been exhausted by the time he'd shut the front door of the apartment above the workshop behind him. When the nausea and fever hit, he'd been reduced to sitting on the floor of the bathroom. The shaking set in not long after Arthur dropped to the tile floor. His forehead pressed against the top of the toilet lid helped lessen the vertigo, but Lance still came home to his nephew pale and trembling. Once Arthur had finally come down, of course his uncle demanded an explanation.

Arthur could have lied. He wasn't even bad at lying.

But Lance had put one hand on his shoulder and asked him if something had happened. He'd used the voice reserved for a silent promise to fix it or to square up against some unseen enemy. If his uncle was going to believe it was just a flu bug, that tone wouldn't have come out. Lance knew him too well to be brushed off.

So Arthur admitted he'd met his soulmate earlier that day. And that he'd turned tail and run from her like hell was on his heels.

Lance had been sympathetic afterward, but his relief that it was only an emotional hangover was visible. He'd offered aspirin and orange juice, and ushered Arthur to lay down on the couch. There'd been a tentative offer to let him pick a movie, and Arthur could see the struggle. He flipped through the channels before leaving the screen on a monster-truck rally. Lance relaxed a little after that.

They'd had dinner and watched the end of the rally where a truck called The Green Demon took the prize. While it did victory donuts, Lance finally turned to his nephew.

"Do you need to talk about it?" He looked out of his depth. Lance had never needed to worry about a soulmate. The chances of an event after thirty were low, and after forty were nearly non-existent. Arthur knew the basics from school and the two of them had left it at that until now. There’d never been a reason to go more in depth. "Can't say I know what you're going through, but—"

"It's fine." Arthur picked up the remote to flip through the channels again. "I met her. I wasn't expecting it to happen so I freaked out. If it's actually a soulmate thing, we're probably going to bump into each other again. Tempo's not exactly big or anything." He bit the words out, and knew he was distancing himself from the problem and he really shouldn't. He didn't want to think about soulmates right now.

Or after they finally stopped watching TV and Arthur headed to his room.

Or when he finally managed to pass out.

The trouble was that Arthur was thinking about it. He thought about it throughout the entire night, and into the wee hours of the morning. He thought about it in a mess of strange, blue-tinted dreams that only dispersed with his work alarm. He was still thinking about it after he dragged himself out of bed. Brushing his hair and teeth, getting dressed, and eating breakfast did nothing to block the memory of how she'd smiled at him. Like Arthur was something wonderful and exciting and worth smiling about. How was he supposed to deal with something like that? How was he supposed to talk to her?

Easy answer. He wouldn't.

Arthur would go to work and stick his head under car hoods like an oblivious ostrich, and he wouldn't try to find her. Like he had told Lance, if the universe meant for that whole fiasco to happen—

"Hey there!"

Well damn.

It was a near thing, but Arthur didn't leap clear out of his skin and go tumbling down the stairs on the side of the building. He didn't scream either, because he was too busy choking on sheer terror. It was too late to bolt back into the door. He had locked himself out already and she obviously knew where he lived. And worked, considering he'd opted to where his actual uniform jacket today like an idiot.

She wore clothes near identical to those of yesterday. Today's sweater was white-and-blue striped and the skirt was now smooth and black. Otherwise the outfit was an almost perfect mirror. She had one hand still raised from where she tried to greet him, and from her expression she'd been trying to not freak him out. Behind her...

Behind her was the tallest guy Arthur had ever seen.

He looked an easy two feet taller than the girl—his soulmate—and at least a foot taller than Arthur himself. Dark hair styled into a pompadour hid the majority of his upper face. From the tilt of his head, he was looking up at Arthur too. He was wearing all light and dark grays, dress clothes from first glance. An untucked ascot hung over a fitted vest that cut the line of his broad chest down into nearly-black slacks. The only thing that didn't quite match the classy look were his sneakers. Arthur tried not to press himself to the wall as he moved down the stairs to them.

"Hi. ...again." He tried to direct the words mostly to the girl, but his eyes kept sneaking over to her tall companion. It took effort not to fidget. Arthur jammed his hands into his jacket pockets to keep from wringing them. "Didn't expect to see you here."

"Sorry. I kind of asked around to find you." She was gesturing as she spoke with a nervous energy. "Look, we... I'm sorry if Mystery spooked you yesterday. He's usually way better behaved than that and I wanted to make sure you were okay. I'm Vivi, by the way. Vivi Yukino."

Oh.

...this wasn't terrible then.

"I'm Arthur." He took a hand out to wave toward the sign behind him over the main doors. "Arthur Kingsmen. My uncle owns the shop. And I'm fine, just... I wasn't expecting all that and I'm not great with surprises. Sorry if I worried you."

She smiled again, and it made his chest tighten. "Don't be! I would have apologized then, but you left so fast. And I wanted thank you for catching me. Thank you, by the way."

"No problem. You did all the work." Arthur couldn't help the twitch of his mouth into a matching smile. "I was just standing there."

"No. Really, I owe you." Vivi's hand made it's way to one hip, and Arthur got the feeling she did that a lot. Especially when making a point. "You stopped me from braining myself on the sidewalk, whether you meant to at the time or not. I appreciate it. Lewis does too. Oh, sorry, this is Lewis."

Arthur's attention snapped back to the man with her, realizing he'd somehow forgotten a seven-foot giant was standing there. Which shouldn't have been possible. 'Lewis' towered over the two of them, but he didn't feel like he was imposing his height. He was just... there. Arthur could see that he was slightly hunched, shoulders curved forward and low. He almost seemed to be tucking himself out of Arthur's direct field of vision.

"Hey." 'Lewis' spoke finally, and his voice was softer than anything that came out of a person that big had any right to be. "I'm Lewis Pepper."

He held out a hand to shake, and well... Arthur felt brave right now.

Vivi was taking his bailing yesterday surprisingly well. She didn't seem to be acknowledging that he'd flipped out during what other people thought of as a life-changing moment. She hadn’t even mentioned it. That was strangely comforting. Almost. No pressure here.

The moment he touched Lewis, the world exploded.

He pitched forward, balance wavering, at the same time that Lewis jerked backed in surprise. The vest—once a cool, dark silver—was now a brilliant plum color. Warm and vivid and so eye-catching that Arthur could feel the vertigo come screaming back with a vengeance. The pants were deep purple rather than black. Even the sneakers were bright violet, and the ascot was a shade of pink that made Arthur's already strained eyes burn.

"Whoa!" Vivi grabbed hold of his shoulder, and Lewis' elbow, pulling them both upright. "Are you guys alright?!"

Arthur gulped down air, his free hand gripping his shaking knees. He'd never been unable to see purple before. There was no reason for the color to have been hidden from him on Lewis and then suddenly pop into being like that. No reason except...

Oh no.

It was too much all at once. Arthur jerked his hand free, stuffing both fists back into his pockets to hide how hard he was trembling. Two soulmate events with different people wasn't impossible. It wasn't even too uncommon, though it usually happened at different times in a person's life. Arthur had spent his whole life expecting that he wouldn't ever have to deal with one soulmate, let alone two.

Vivi was moving to hold Lewis' arm, weaving her own around his. Her hand drifted down to entangle their fingers. She was speaking quietly to him, but Arthur couldn't hear the words over the panicked roar in his ears.

"Sorry," he blurted out and they both looked at him in surprise. "I've been a little sick. Didn't mean knock you over." The main door wasn't far. If Arthur moved fast enough, he could probably get inside before they could block him. He began inching backwards, avoiding looking them in the eyes. "You might want to keep your distance for a bit. I don't know if I'm contagious."

"But—" Vivi started to speak, but one of Lewis' hands covered hers. Her voice petered out.

Lewis straightened, moving so that he was still holding Vivi's hand and gave Arthur a small smile. "That's alright. We can talk another time. Maybe over dinner? My parents own a restaurant in town, so I can treat you."

"Sure." Arthur was running on autopilot. He couldn't just turn around and sprint again, but his voice was going reedy with nerves. He needed to not be here. "That sounds great."

Vivi didn't look as happy with the arrangement as Lewis did, but she still let the taller man put an arm around her and guide her back toward the road. A beat-up little blue sedan, likely a family car, was parked in the first space for garage clients. Arthur waited until their eyes were off him. Then he whipped around to unlock the shop doors and flung himself inside the office. Only once he had the solid barrier of walls between him and his soulmates did he feel the clawing panic fade.

Then he realized he'd agreed to see them again.

Crap.

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

This wasn't the worst idea he'd ever had.

Lewis' little sisters were adorable, but they could smell fear. They'd cornered him three separate times and subjected him to tortures only children could think of. Paprika's endeavors at braiding his hair with beads had been an experience all on its own. Then Cayenne had spiked his food with enough hot sauce to set a house on fire. Belle had gone for psychological warfare. She'd rapid-fire asked questions Arthur barely knew how to answer. Everything from his favorite color, to why his eyebrows were heart-shaped, to why he had a stutter when he was nervous. Their mother had the patience of a saint, and ushered them out of the room before Arthur could go to pieces.

"They're just happy to meet you. I don't bring people home a lot." Lewis had been apologizing with every other sentence. Arthur couldn't help but offer a weak smile from over the rim of the glass of milk. The burning in his mouth was finally beginning to wane, and the cookies Lewis was setting down beside him looked delicious. Golden-brown with thick chunks of white chocolate and macadamia nuts. He'd been baking up a storm. Arthur was starting to wonder if this was less a thank-you dinner, and more of an attempt to impress him. "Cayenne gets excited and forgets not everyone can handle our hottest sauce."

"I know, you said that already." Arthur eased one of the cookies off the tray and onto a napkin where it could cool a little faster. It smelled fantastic. "It's fine. She's a kid."

"That's no excuse." Vivi slumped against him. She'd bodily wrangled the girls out of the kitchen the last time they'd thundered in to harass the three of them and to make off with some of the many sweets and sample plates that Lewis had cooked. Now Vivi claimed a piping hot cookie for herself and bit into it with relish. Their freshness from the oven didn't seem to bother her as she sucked in air between chewing. "She's a gremlin."

"Says you, who tried to eat before the food even made it to the table." Lewis pulled another tray from the oven. This one was loaded with some form of baked chocolate-brown pastry cup. He set them aside to cool on a table with a bowl of light-colored crème and tiny dessert peppers to use as toppers. Arthur had no idea what a dessert pepper was, but he figured he'd give it a try. Everything Lewis had put in front of him—even the plate Cayenne had sabotaged—had been delicious. Or at least interesting. "How're you feeling, Arthur?"

"Fine." He took another sip of the milk to illustrate. " We might even save my tongue."

Lewis laughed. "Well, that's a relief. I'd hate for you to not get to taste the cookies before Vivi gets them all."

"Excuse me!" Vivi protested, mouth full of her fourth cookie. "As resident girlfriend, I get as many cookies as I can fit in my mouth."

"So all of them, then?" Arthur grinned when she gasped in mock offense.

"Kingsmen, you slanderer. And after I rescued you from the bowels of hot sauce hell." She reached over to pluck the glass of milk out of his hands. "I'll just confiscate this from the ungrateful plebian." Arthur held it out of her reach with a laugh.

"Sure thing, short stuff."

"Be careful, you two." Lewis called as he pressed out more dough. He'd explained when they came to the house kitchen that anything he cooked had to happen in-between getting things ready for the restaurant's open hours tomorrow. There were now a number of sauces and he'd prepped three separate pans of baked goods for the morning rushes. It was somehow comforting to see Lewis in his element, rushing between the sink and stove and countertops. Every so often he'd handed one of them something to stir. The mindless task helped Arthur feel less like he was going to vibrate apart in the middle of eating.

"Keep your eyes on your saucepan, Pepper! I'll handle this upstart."

Vivi leaned farther, looping an arm around Arthur's neck and pulling herself up higher. He twisted his arm out of the way, tucking his drink down onto one of the lower shelves of the kitchen island they were near. Then he hooked his now free hand over her legs and stood up. Vivi squealed as she found herself now sprawled over Arthur's shoulders.

"I'm sorry, you'll handle what now?" Arthur crowed, and Vivi attempted to struggle half-heartedly. The kitchen was too small for any real rough-housing. "I can't hear you over how hard I'm upstarting."

Vivi kicked her legs in frustration and pushed against Arthur's shoulder. "Lewis! Help!"

"Alright. Come on, you two. We literally just kicked the kids out of the kitchen." Lewis crossed over and curved an arm around Vivi's waist to lift her up, and placed a hand on Arthur's arm to help with the shift in weight.

At first Arthur thought he'd managed to touch a live wire. He heard the snap! of energy more than felt it, but it didn't prepare him for suddenly hitting the kitchen island as if his legs had been shot out from under him. His shoulder and back were on fire, throbbing as painfully as his head where he'd struck the side of the countertop. It took several blinks to realize his eyes were open, and that it wasn't the darkness of closed eyes he was seeing. The lights in the kitchen were out.

"What happened?" Vivi's voice came from somewhere to his left, sounding as slow and pained as Arthur felt.

"I think something shorted out." He managed to answer. His tongue felt thick, the words came out slow and muddied. "Lewis?"

"Here." From a few feet away to his right, several pans clattered. "I got knocked into the storage room. Give your eyes a chance to adjust and move toward the window in the door. Be careful, some of the appliances will still be hot. You'll want to keep your hands on the floor."

It took several minutes to orient themselves. As soon as they'd found each other and started the laborious crawl out of the kitchen, the door opened to reveal Lewis' father. Whatever happened had knocked the whole restaurant's power out. Mrs. Pepper was currently rounding up their daughters while Mr. Pepper had come to collect them so no one was left in the dark in a dangerous situation. Once they were in the light of several lit candles, Arthur could see where Lewis' hands both had black char on them. It matched the line that ran along his back and shoulder, and all down Vivi's front.

The shock had originated from the three of them.

Well then.

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

Arthur wasn't planning to see them again. Three events now, and the last one had led to the Peppers insisting on having someone look at them before letting Vivi and Arthur leave. There'd been no actual burns. Vivi had cut her leg and Arthur had the beginning of bruises all along his upper back. Nothing except what happened when they'd all been blown apart. Spontaneous lightning bolts indoors aside, trying to figure out how he was supposed to act around them was too stressful. It was supposed to be easy with soulmates. Somehow, everything was so chaotic about the experience that he didn't know how to process any of it.

Did he want a soulmate? Did he want two soulmates?

Did he want them?

He'd given into temptation and looked them up online. Vivi Yukino and Lewis Pepper. They'd had their soulmate event four years ago, before he'd moved in with Lance. They had met in the street by chance and there’d been a literal explosion of fire and ice. It made the news for a few days. While it wasn't the most volatile event in the world by far, it was one of the more impressive ones the town had ever seen.

They'd been dating ever since.

Meanwhile Arthur had spent most of his adult life knowing for a fact this wasn't going to happen. He wasn't going to have someone thrust into his life by fate. He worked at his uncle's garage, tinkered with mechanics in his spare time, and he had a pet hamster. There was nothing wrong with who he was right now.

And yet here he was.

Soul text. Color snap. Elemental reaction.

Three big hints from the universe that Vivi and Lewis were supposed to be something to him. Arthur wasn't sure at all what that something was. He'd never even bothered to imagine it. His father had called soulmates a 'crock' on the regular. His mother had lamented that she hadn't chosen someone else. Lance had shrugged when Arthur asked and said he didn't care if the universe did or didn't assign someone to him. He wasn't going to change who he was.

That had made sense at the time when little else did. If having a soulmate meant Arthur had to be half of someone or one third of two someones, then he didn't need one. Or two.

It hadn't felt like he was half or a third of anything though...

Books described it as a puzzle piece sliding into place.

Feeling whole.

Arthur hadn't felt whole. He'd been as anxious and uncomfortable and scared as he'd always been with new people. The only thing different was the universe was trying to tell him that these new people were special somehow. They were for him in some weird cosmic way that no one so far had ever made sense of.

Did he want them...?

"Well, Kingsmen, seeing as you met them a month ago, it's a little early to tell isn't it?" Arthur told his reflection that night before bed. He was trying very hard not to look at the twin red lines he could see stretching away toward the bathroom window. They were tied to his pinkie, because of course they were. They were both heading through the wall and back toward the center of town.

The universe couldn't have put any more pressure on this decision.

"Okay." He placed his hand on the mirror, and sure enough, there they were. Two red threads woven tightly around his left pinkie that he hadn't put there. They seemed to pass through anything that impeded them like a hallucination. "I'm going to try. But it's my life and if I don't like where this is going, I'm stopping. And no amount of destiny is going to change that."

The thread didn't respond.

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

"I'm glad we did this." Vivi burrowed deeper into Lewis' side, practically melting. The quilt they were bundled in was time-worn soft, a huge brown monstrosity that Vivi's mother gifted her years ago. Vivi swore by it and it was the most comfortable blanket Arthur had ever experienced. To be fair, that also might have been because Lewis radiated warmth more steadily than even the portable heater sitting on the van floor beside them. He was starting to feel drowsy even though it had only gotten dark an hour ago. Arthur was well fed. Lewis' arm was a steadying weight at his back, and Vivi's legs were draped over his in a familiar tangle.

They'd gone out to look at the stars in Arthur's van and camp in the hills just outside town. It wasn't the first time in the last year they'd done so. At some point, the van had accumulated enough clothes and knickknacks to make it their van, regardless of the name on the title.

Arthur thought, after all this time, that he might have finally clocked the whole soulmate thing. At that moment there was a soft, fluttery feeling in his chest. Light and heavy somehow all at once, and warm. He was absolutely comfortable.

"Hey Arthur, can we talk to you about something?"

Lewis' voice cut through the pleasant doze Arthur had been sinking into. "Hm? Whassit?"

"So, you do know your our soulmate right?" Vivi said, and it was like being dunked in ice water. Arthur sat upright, the corner of the blanket falling from his shoulder. Lewis let him move freely, but Vivi's legs had become a vice that Arthur didn't know how to navigate. "Wait! What's wrong?!"

"Arthur." Lewis pulled the blanket away so that he could help Arthur and Vivi extract themselves. "It's okay. You need to breathe."

"I am breathing. I'm fine."

"You're not! You're freaking out and that makes it worse!" Vivi's hand, small and breathtakingly cold somehow even though she'd been huddled in a blanket cocoon not moments before, landed on Arthur's wrist. "You want to shock us again? Or have another shared vision? That's why it keeps happening! Just breathe in time with me, okay? It's alright."

He wanted to get out of the van. His legs were thrumming with sudden restless energy. Arthur wanted to put five miles between him and them, and he didn't even know why.

"Arthur, please. You don't have to stay if you don't want to, but you need to calm down before you hurt yourself." Lewis was speaking quietly, all soothing tones and it grated Arthur that it was working. That sitting still and breathing along with Vivi counting down the seconds to inhale and exhale was working. It was bringing him back from the flight or fight response he'd launched into. ...Except he doesn't hate it because the pounding in his ears was finally starting to dull. The exhaustion that always followed a sudden spike of adrenaline pulled down on his limbs, and he slumped back against Lewis' chest, just existing. "Vivi, I told you not to just say it like that."

"I know I just —" She blew hair out of her face and moved her hand down to clutch Arthur's fingers. "I'm sorry. I'm not good at talking circles around things. It's pretty obvious this has been bothering you, but you never say anything about it when it comes up."

"What am I supposed to say?" Arthur managed to ask. His mouth seemed detached from the rest of him. "That I don't know how to do this? That you're both perfect and I don't know how to deal with that?"

"Sure." Lewis said. "If that's what you think."

"Say anything," Vivi pressed. "But please don't shut us out. You've been in Lewis' locket for five years and—"

"What?" Arthur struggled to look at them both now, squinting. "I've been in your what for how many years?"

Lewis sighed and reached into the collar of his shirt, pulling a heart-shaped locket out to dangle past his ascot. "My locket. I found it at a garage sale around five years ago. Nearly six now. And when I bought it..." He popped the clasp and the golden heart split to reveal a tiny photo that Arthur knew they'd never taken. It was the three of them smiling, locked in a tight embrace. They weren't looking out toward the viewer, but at each other. "...this picture was there. After I met Vivi, I thought I'd meet you too, but we couldn't find you anywhere."

"And I looked." Vivi said. "I asked everyone in town about you, but no one knew who you were."

"Four years ago?"

"Before you and your uncle moved into town." Vivi laughed, but it wasn't a happy sound. It was dry and a little wrung out. "After a while, we gave up. We figured that you have to show up eventually if you were in Lewis' locket. And now I knew what you looked like, so it wouldn't be nearly as much of a surprise." She pulled her sleeves back, one at a time. There, on her inner forearms, were two soul marks: a small heart on the right and a five-pointed star on the left. "I didn't know at the time that the heart was Lewis' locket. The star's definitely your pin. Same size and everything. I was so excited when I met you outside the Tome Tomb but... we didn't have an event."

Arthur swallowed. "Yeah, we did."

"...we did?"

"I had soul text in my tea." The admission felt strangely heavy. Wasn't telling the truth supposed to make you feel lighter? "You said the exact words and I just..."

"Oh." Vivi frowned before clamoring up to throw the blanket back around them. "I wish I could say I was sorry but... I'm just happy we met you?" She pulled the end of the blanket around his chest and smoothed it down. "Look, you don't have to do anything you don't want to. If you don't want to keep hanging out, that's okay. But I... we like you. You're funny, and you're smart, and you're cute when you make that face you're making because I'm complimenting you."

"I'm not making a face."

"You are." Lewis interjected, holding the other end of the blanket up so Vivi could crawl back under. "You wrinkle your nose up like your face is trying to crawl away. It's adorable."

Arthur fought to blank out any expression. "I'm not making a face and you can't prove it."

"I solemnly swear to call you cute randomly and take a picture of you with my phone right after. I'll even email it to Lewis' sisters."

"You wouldn't dare."

"Try me."

Lewis dragged a hand free from the blanket to slowly cut the air between them. "Focus. Please." He turned his gaze to Arthur. "What Vivi said is right. We don't want you to feel like you're forced to be here. But we'd also like it if you'd tell us what's wrong instead of... well, leaving every time this all comes up. If you need space, that's okay, but we don't like how scared you are. That's not how we want you to think about this."

"I'm not..." Arthur started, but faltered under the shared look they both gave him. "Okay. I'm scared. I'm petrified. I'm not good at people. I've never been good at people. And now there's two people that everything I've ever heard or read says I'm supposed to be good at. With. And I can't stop thinking about how I'm going to mess this up soon or how this means I'm who I am right now because I'm broken or—"

"Whoa. Whoa." Vivi surged out of her part of the blanket to take his face in her hands. "Who the fuck said you were broken? Where do they live? I'll break them."

"Vivi, please."

Arthur couldn't help the wet snicker that spilled out of him. Vivi pulled him into her arms, and hugged his face to her shoulder.

"No, Lewis, fuck that guy. Or girl. I have a bat with their knees' name on it."

Lewis sighed and kissed her forehead, readjusting the blanket around them. "You're not going to break anyone's knees. What we're going to do is go to sleep and finish this talk in the morning when we're not all punch drunk and wired on feelings."

"Fine, o' reasonable one." Vivi ducked closer to Arthur's ear. "You just point me at them and say the word."

"Sure," He offered weakly.

From above them, "I can still hear you."

"No you can't." Arthur and Vivi spoke in unison, both barely able to make it through the sentence before they both broke down into shared giggles. And if Arthur's laughter involved a few tears, well...

Vivi and Lewis weren't going to comment on that.

#msaholidayspirits2021 #mystery skulls animated #acornscorns #after a few hours of fret edits you get this #no refunds!#and then hup wrote a thing

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