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silence-burns · 4 months

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The Death of Me //part 3

Fandom: Aquaman

Summary: (very small spoilers for the movie) Finding Orm on your doorstep was not something you expected. Having him move in was even worse. But the effect he still had on every part of your life would be the death of you.

“Try not to drown. It would be awkward.”

Orm watched you disappear into the bathroom, angry or embarrassed to the point of momentarily forgetting about your exhaustion. It was such a relief after spending hours watching your feverish, unresponsive body. He couldn’t help but smile.

He wasn't used to sitting idle, which led him to start cleaning up the house during those few hours and familiarizing himself with the rooms. Orm was now a free man, left to live his life however he wanted. And yet, when Arthur came to him with a certain proposition, he didn't even think before agreeing.

What he's said before was true—Orm did feel indebted to you for everything you'd done over the years. But it wasn't the main reason he dropped everything and allowed Arthur to bring him to the sea house.

Orm used the opportunity of having you out of bed (if it could even be called that) to clean it up and take off the bed sheets. A surprising amount of human medicine rolled out from various crevices of crumpled blankets, which he put on the table to carefully read about later. Human ingenuity managed to surprise him every now and then, and instructions printed on every surface possible were something he appreciated.

He heard the water run in the shower, which was a good sign. So far, no screams, shouts or sounds of a body hitting the floor broke the peaceful evening. Orm wouldn't mind it staying that way.

It took him a few moments to figure out the way human bed sheets were supposed to be used. Everything felt new to him, but he took pride in every step. There was a certain novelty to doing things wrong and not having a whole nation watching.

The lock opened with a mechanical click. You stood in the doorway, looking pale and wet, resembling a wet rat Orm had once seen in a canal. The loose shirt you put on had a lot of soaked spots.

“I can't take it off.”

Orm moved his eyes away from the shirt clinging to your body. “Pardon?”

Your lips formed a thin, anxious line. “The old bandage. Even after I soaked it, I can't take parts of it off.”

Orm knew he'd sooner grow old and turn to dust than hear from you words such as ‘Please, could you help me? I can't do this on my own.’ In any other person, such a trait would endlessly annoy him.

“Let me have a try.” It was a perfectly diplomatic answer that made you walk back into the bathroom.

You leaned over the sink with your back to him and pulled the shirt up. From up close, Orm realized that some of the wet patches on the shirt came from blood. Removing even part of the bandages resulted in aggravating the wounds again, and pulling on the ones that were stuck hard only made it worse.

For a moment, Orm beheld the scale of the task. “What happened to you again?”

“A building.”

It looked as if you were dragged through a few of them. Repeatedly.

“...must've been a big one.”

“Your brother has a talent of making the worst possible choices.”

“Hard to argue with that.”

His heart hurt when he started pulling on the scabbed wounds that had dried with pieces of bandage and dressing inside the wound. He was no medic, but he'd been in enough duels and fights not to overlook unhealed injuries. With lips pressed thin, he tried to be as gentle as possible, but his work was difficult.

He was impressed you didn't flinch or curse. Orm only heard quiet hisses from you and noticed your heavy breathing.

“I'm sorry it's taking so long,” he broke the silence after a while, thinking it would distract you enough. “I wish we had some of the Atlantean medicine that could speed this up.”

“I actually might still have some in the cabinet to your left from that time we fought those necros. Your healers gave me a lot, but I don't remember which is which.”

Orm froze. “And you're only telling me this now?”

“In my defense, I didn't even remember about it until you asked.”

Orm dropped the paper towels he used to wipe the blood off your back into the sink. He found a crumpled bag with a few small, familiar jars. Some of the medicine had already dried out, but the one he was searching for remained intact.

“It's a good thing you didn't throw them out. This one is a special salve; it breaks the bond between dried out wounds and cleans them.”

Orm layered it thickly, working fast and trying his best to focus only on your injuries. Your skin was hot under his fingers and smelled vaguely of soap.

“I tried to soak them under the shower, but it didn't really help.”

“There was not enough water.”

You frowned and raised your head a little to look at Orm in the mirror. He seemed to be engrossed in cleaning the scabs and fabric off. Even though the pain subsided significantly, something still bothered you.

“...I'm pretty sure there was a decent amount of water in the water that I used.”

“Not enough, apparently.”

“In what other terms may I present to you thousands of years of Atlantean technology development that went into producing this salve? Its effects are greatly enhanced.”

“Did you just say my water is too dry??”

“Ah, right. I forgot you're the water experts. Should I start calling you professor?”

Orm tightened the bandage as he caught your eyes in the mirror.

“You can call me whatever you want, as long as it keeps you alive.”

A shiver ran down your spine, and you were sure that despite the bruises and bandages, Orm could clearly see what his words did to you. You cleared your throat, breaking eye contact first.

“I'm sure you think you sound cool, but you might've overlooked the possibility of me abusing such power easily and with a smile on my face, Salve Master.”

Orm chuckled. His fingers lingered around your waist. “You'll be the death of me. But as I've said—whatever keeps you going.”

And then he suddenly turned you around and lifted you over his shoulder. Too stunned to fight back, you found yourself carried out of the bathroom.

#orm marius #orm marius x reader #orm x reader #orm x you #orm marius x you #aquaman imagine #the death of me #aquaman orm #aquaman #Aquaman orm marius #aquaman orm marius x reader

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lovelytsunoda · 10 months

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sweet creature// pato o ward

summary: pato is in a romantic mood and wants to make love to his sweetheart around all of her favourite things.

pairing: pato o ward x female reader!

warnings: smut!! pato being an absolute sweetheart. he fucks her in front of a window so she can watch the sunset but the window doesn’t actually overlook and spots where they can be seen

authors note: why do I keep writing other stuff while the arthur leclerc first time fic rots in my drafts and the last two tina series fics are starting to collect dust-

all was calm and quiet in the reading room as she sat with her book, manicured fingers gently flipping the page before she turned to the end, trying not to read the last sentence as she counted how many pages she had left.

truth be told, the smut scenes in this book had been a little much for her. she loved the story and she loved the characters, but the rough intensity of the sex just wasn’t doing it for her. sure, it still had her clenching her thighs together, but if anyone ever spoke to her in the bedroom the way that the male lead spoke to his girlfriend, she was likely to burst out into tears.

sure, she and her boyfriend had experimented with tons things before and they’d probably had sex on almost every surface of the house, but the one reassuring constant was that pato always spoke to her like she was the most important person in the world, how he looked at her like she’d hung the moon, even when he was balls deep inside of her.

and how he was willing to recreate almost any scene in a romance book, putting his own little flair on every scene they tried.

she really didn’t know how she had gotten this lucky.

she had just turned back to the trials and tribulations of josh chen and jules ambrose when she felt two hands clamp down on her shoulders. she jumped, screaming as the book fell from her hands.

“patricio! what the fuck?”

behind her, pato laughed, coming around the ikea couch to settle in beside her, nuzzling his nose into her chest.

“you’re all sweaty.” she whined, but made no move to push him away. “what have I said about taking a shower when you were done conditioning?”

“I just wanted to see my girl.” pato argued halfheartedly, peppering kisses to her neck while he muttered sweet nothings in spanish. “I love you most.”

“love you too, darling.” she smiled, leaning over to kiss him. “I’ve got a new book scene I wanna try.”

patos eyes lit up, and he sat ramrod straight before he leaned down to pick up the abandoned copy of ‘twisted hate’. “can i tell you something?”

“mhm.” she nodded, fingers playing with the hem of her sundress.

“I’ve read this one already.” pato laughed. “I borrowed a copy from coltons girlfriend.”

she laughed, brushing her hair behind her ear. “honey, why would you do that?”

“because I knew that you’d read the first two and I wanted to know why you loved them so much.”

“so you know what scene I want to try?”

“fuck yeah I do.” he grinned, scooping y/n into his arms as he gets up from the couch, spinning gently in a circle before placing her back on her feet, his hands sliding up the skirt of her dress to grip her ass gently. “lean back against the bookshelf, corazon.” he kissed her softly, his nose tracing a path across her skin until his warm breath touched her ear. “just let me make you feel good.”

she backed towards the bookshelf, pulling pato towards her by the hem of his workout shirt. feeling the shelf hit her back. she leaned up to kiss him, all tongue and teeth as his wandering hands gripped her skin, his tongue exploring her mouth.

“you’re so sexy.” pato muttered, trailing kisses across her collarbone as she moaned gently, resting her head against the ikea shelf, one leg curling around her lovers.

patos hand slipped between her legs, cupping her core in his palm, her breath hitching at the contact.

“I hear you, love. im right here, just relax for me.” pato murmured, hands slipping under the waistband of her floral panties as he sank to his knees.

he looked up at her with his wide, hazel eyes, hair mussed as he began to slowly trail her panties down her legs. the look in his eyes made her heart melt. the look of love, the look he gave her when he was so utterly smitten that he didn’t even have the words to explain it.

she rested one leg over his shoulder, her face flushed as pato threw her panties off to the side, the whole world shrinking down to the point where all that mattered was the two of them. he kissed up her thigh, gently massaging her skin with the hand that was holding her leg in place.

“babe, be careful, what if I lose my balance?” she laughed lightly, taking her fingers through his hair, using the other hand to hike up the skirt of her sundress.

“I’ll catch you before you hit the ground.”he answered matter of factly. “you know I’d never let anything happen to you.”

the moment his tongue touched where she needed him most, every worry or apprehensive thought evaporated. she leaned back against the bookshelf, moaning as her lover moved his tongue in slow, deliberate circles. she felt every sensation in nerves down to her toes.

as he picked up the pace, adjusting his angle to suck her clit into his mouth, she dropped the hem of her dress, nails scraping against particle board as she tried to keep herself steady.

“fuck, right there. god, I love your tongue.”

“it does so many wonderful things, doesn’t it?” pato laughed, pulling away to look up at her with a cheeky grin, his hair messy and staticky from the fabric of her dress.

“yes, now please put it back inside me.”

“you’re cute. I just want to give you things. like kisses and orgasms.” pato hummed, slipping his tongue between her folds, closing his eyes in a moment of bliss as he worked his tongue inside of her.

she moaned, closing her eyes and tilting her head back, gently grinding against patos face, his tongue still working in and out of her as one of his hands came up to hold hers, her fingernails digging into the back of his hand.

“oh, babe, I think I’m close.”

“just let go, darling. I’m right here, I’ve got you.”

pato held her tightly, moving her hips gently against his face as he helped her through her high, evidence of her orgasm coating his face as he let her go, placing her shaky leg back on the ground as he stood up, wiping his face off on the bottom of his workout shirt before kissing her softly.

“I love you.”

“I love you more.” she laughed gently, pressing her body against his. he was hard, his cock poking at her body through his under armour sweats. “look at the sunset. it’s beautiful.”

pato smiled, pulling away from the hug to look out the picture window, where the sky was lit up in pink and orange as the sun began its descent. “it’s not as beautiful as you are.”

“aren’t you romantic.” she laughed, leaning over the back on the couch to watch the sun sink behind the trees, propping up her chin with her hand.

pato hugs her from behind, gently pressing kisses to her shoulders. “I have an idea.” he says in a sing-song tone.

“oh yeah?” she asks, a lilt of nonchalance in her voice as she places one of her hands over his. “what is it?”

“this.” pato says simply, pressing his hard on up against her bare ass, hiking her dress skirt up her waist. “let me make love to you in the sunlight, pretty girl. let me make you feel pretty.”

she giggled, leaning back against him as he started to undo the drawstring on his sweats. “take it away, lover boy.”

“with pleasure.”

he rolled his hips, slipping his cock inside of her in one solid movement. she braved her body against the back of the couch, their bodies illuminated by the setting sun as pato pulled her in by the waist, resting his head on her shoulder.

“fuck, pato, I love your cock.” she moaned, reaching behind her head to tangle her fingers in his hair, bucking her hips back against his.

he kept the gentle, soothing pace, thumbs rubbing circles on her skin as he kissed her neck.

“te amo, querida” pato spoke soft, sucking a hickey into her neck.

they would keep it up until the sun went down, going for another round tangled in the plush blankets on the floor, staring at the stars and laughing about nothing and everything.

and she knew that this was the way she would want it to be forever.

TAGS

@magnummagnussen @libraryofloveletters @thatsdemko @oconso @lorarri @httpiastri @clemswrld @sidcrosbyspuck @scuderiamh @scuderiasundays @silverstonesainz @userlando

#pato o’ward #pato o ward #pato o ward x reader #pato o’ward x reader #indycar x reader #indycar smut #pato o ward x y/n #pato o ward smut #mini fic

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zjpg · 6 months

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just a girl

'last night.'

last - m.list - next

[september]

"charles put you on blast huh?" lando's laugh caught addi's attention.

life with addi feels like a constant marry-go-round. pierre is great, he's kind, she likes being around him. but the thought of being with him... officially. she can't. as much as she tells everyone she doesn't care or that she's fine, seeing lando with someone else is affecting her. she's sure they all see it. maybe not lando, maybe. she doesn't want to hurt anyone.

she let out a small chuckle as well, "yeah" she sighed before smiling at him. she had been at daniel's hotel suite along with some other drivers for a hangout. she had left to go to the kitchen to grab one of the smoothie drinks she had put in there a while ago. "when did you get here?" she asked him, offering him a smoothie. he grabbed it, muttering out some gratitude and opening it.

"just now, i actually came to get a coke but i guess smoothie's are healthier" he smiled after taking a sip. she laughed and nodded. she was going to move past him to join the group but yet another one of his questions stopped her in her tracks, "what's it like with pierre?"

"he's sweet, just kinda going slow for now." she shrugged, avoiding eye contact.

"how come?"

she looked at him, his face was formed into a confused and almost... hurt expression. why was he hurt? he doesn't have that right. "where's luisa?"

lando said nothing, causing addi to nod and walk passed him and join back to the group. charles and arthur showed up after a few minutes, which was great, it gave arthur and addi the opportunity to hang out again. she talked to arthur a little bit since the pierre drama, he said he was hurt but he shouldn't be because they already talked about moving on.

the night went on, alcohol came out, things got...hectic... weird.

"hey, you should go." daniel found the girl in the kitchen pouring more drinks. her mind was fogged and buzzed, the kitchen reminded her of the scene that unfolded only hours before with the other mclaren driver. she's dizzy, she thought everyone was having fun, so why does she have to leave? "arthur will walk you to your hotel room, if you're missing something i'll bring it to you in the morning" he didn’t want her to go, he felt bad pushing her out, but he couldn’t let her be in the middle of it all.

she didn't have time to ask questions, arthur walked over with her phone and her bag while daniel reached in the fridge and handed her the last smoothie and a water bottle. "what's going on?" she asked arthur, confused as to why suddenly there was suddenly yelling on the other side of the room. she was to faded to understand what was going on, and before she could even comprehend anyone's face, she was pushed out of the suite.

"i'll tell you tomorrow"

liked by danielricciardo and 593,295 others

addilynleblanc last night. -> tagged: arthur_leclerc, danielricciardo, pierregasly

view all 30,392 comments

user1 who's in the 4th pic?

user2 so glad to see arthur and addi hanging out -> user3 wish we could see addi and lando content

danielricciardo Fun while it lasted

user4 comments feel dry...

user5 why is pierre screaming-

user6 was everyone drunk-

taglist: @love4lando @fairiepoems @leilanixx @ietss @charli123456789 @ayoanna @enhacolor @be-your-coffee-pot @alixnsuperstxr@vellicora @tpwkstiles @lndonrris @willowpains @gaslysainz @blueanfield @cixrosie @ssararuffoni @buffysummrsx @r0r1-47 @i-love-scott-mccall @hockeyboysarehot @cixrosie

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verdemoun · 28 days

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because i like to pretend every single character was as devastated by kieran's death as i was, i would like to take this opportunity to remind people that if you rescue tilly from the foremans after jack's party, miss grimshaw will mention kieran being missing and that she's going to send some boys out looking for him (screaming crying they DID look for him). but that leaves the question of who. based on who goes looking for arthur when he's away from camp too long, our choices are bill, charles or javier.

obviously, i think miss grimshaw is acutely aware of how much bill torments the poor boy and wouldn't send bill after him

if charles was sent looking for him he would've fucking found him.

so that leaves javier. i think he would've ridden out 2-3 times looking for kieran. first time he was just annoyed, annoyed he was right: said it himself 'once an o'driscoll, always an o'driscoll'. the spineless little man had finally gone running back to colm the second the gang faced a real threat.

second time he had to stop early because boaz got a stone properly wedged in his shoe, and javier realizes he'd gotten so used to the o'driscoll taking care of the horses he had actually neglected to check himself. it feels wrong seeing charles being the one to cart haybales over to the horses, and lenny being the one trying to brush sweat out of their coats before tacking them up. makes a passing comment that the o'driscoll would've had them all done by now, and the saddles would've been clean enough to see their faces in. without kieran, it'll go back to being a three-person chore tending to the herd. he had to admit the kid did a lot of work around camp.

third time he looked along the river, because the few things he knew about the boy was that he liked horses, and fishing. remembers how disappointed the o'driscoll was when javier said there was no way he'd go fishing with him - he was preparing lures for arthur (and how the kid looked that much like a sad, wet cat javier had tossed a bag of crickets at him (was it an apology?), and kieran was happy again because it was much better bait for the local bluegill population than the worms he picked out of the dirt) it became another thing to tease him over, maybe they'd go fishing together.

post horsemen, apocalypses, javier is angry. he's ready to ride out and hunt down the o'driscolls himself, to hit them back even though it's the wrong move. because damnit, kieran was one of them. that meant even if he was a damned o'driscoll, he was part of the gang: the closest thing to family javier had. and no one mentions that javier was the one who went looking for him. no one says he failed. he doesn't need them to point out that he's more angry at himself for not looking hard enough, for not doing enough, not being enough to find the damned kid before that happened to him than he is mad at the o'driscolls.

on nights when he's on guard, and his brain is swimming in the whiskey that he was drinking to stay warm (poor excuse, everything in lemonye is sticky and hot), he catches himself staring over to a wooden marker standing alone in the middle of a clearing, buried facing away from them. feels himself getting angry again, because if he didn't get angry he'd start blaming himself and apologies never solved anything. instead he simmers in his rage, glowering into the night because damnit they were meant to go fishing together.

#kieran duffy #javier escuella

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that-nerd-who-writes-fanfiction · 1 month

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Part 2 of the Merlin saves (tries to kill) Arthur fic

(I suck at naming stuff and I'm not putting more effort into the title than the actual fic.)

(Part 1) (Part 3)

—

When Merlin woke, fear coursed through him. Arthur, Gwen and Gaius were sat around him and he was pushed too far back into his own mind. He felt himself lunge at Arthur, hands aiming for his neck, all reservations about subtlety gone.

“Kill Arthur Pendragon!” Fomorroh screeched. “Kill!”

Merlin grasped at reality, fighting desperately again but loosing the battle. Something hit the back of his head and he collapsed again.

———

When Merlin awoke again, it was to only Gwen and Gaius, a smoke canister under his nose that made wakefulness rush through him alongside relief. The distant mantra of ‘Kill Arthur Pendragon’ still rang through his head but he was fully in control of himself.

“What is that? Arthur's socks?” He grinned, looking at Gwen smile in relief.

She stood and pulled the door open, Arthur was just outside looking anxious with a furrowed brow and red rimmed eyes.

“Arthur,” Merlin breathed, the king looked up.

“Merlin.” He whispered, standing and taking a cautious step closer. He looked to Gaius, “is he..?”

“Not permanently. It’s dormant for now, but that’s will only last a day.” Gaius said. He shivered at the thought of being dragged back under its control.

“Arthur, I’m so sorry,” he pushed himself into a sitting position on the workbench, cleared to act as a table while he was being treated.

“What happened?”

Gaius stepped forward and set a bowl of his favourite berries on the table. Merlin slid into the chair and frowned, trying to remember everything.

“The mercenaries, they were hired by someone I know. I can’t remember what his voice sounded like, but I remember knowing him.” He started, “I had my eyes closed so they’d think I was unconscious, the mercenaries were calling the man who hired them “my lord” too.”

Arthur sat down, “The traitor, do you think you’d recognise the voice?”

“Traitor?” Merlin asked, surprised Arthur was willing to think of such a thing.

“We were talking about it before you attacked me, do you not…”

He pinched his lips into a line and shook his head, “I remember fighting for control and using your voice to remind myself that we’re friends, that I’d never want to harm you, but I don’t remember what you were saying. Then… Fomorroh got way too excited about something, like the poison and the crossbow but I could sabotage it with that. It kept screaming in my head but I don’t know what happened next, the next thing I knew everything went dark.” He couldn’t figure out what happened after that.

“You broke free of the enchantment.” Gwen informed him. “Your eyes were gold, then you were shaking and you told us Morgana was controlling your mind with a Fomorroh and then said we should knock you out.”

“Gold?”

“Don’t think on it too much for now.” Arthur’s said coolly, “what happened after the mercenaries?”

Merlin nodded hesitantly, “I passed out for real, then when Morgana woke me up I was hanging from the ceiling by my wrists. She had a sort of… hovel? Like what Dragoon lived in but in the woods. Then she healed me, and knocked me out again. The next time I woke up, she conjured the snake and put it in my neck. Everything disappeared, like I was underwater but with the Fomorroh yelling that I had to-“ he looked down, glancing at Arthur and back to the half empty bowl of fruit on the table.

“To kill me.” Arthur filled in.

Merlin nodded.

“Do you remember anything else?”

He hesitated, thinking about what he could pull from the memories that didn’t feel like his own, “There’s a few things but none of them make any sense.“

Merlin shook his head, brow furrowed in anxious concentration as he tried to force the memories to surface without disturbing Fomorroh.

Arthur sighed, relaxing slightly and dropping his hands onto Merlin’s shoulders, startling him out of his thoughts by kneeling down to meet Merlin’s eyes, “You’re in no trouble, Merlin. You saved my life today, for that I’m in your debt.”

“Does that mean I finally get a day off?”he quipped without thinking.

Arthur huffed, “you can have a free afternoon after all this is sorted out, but we just want to know how to fix whatever Morgana did to you so.”

Merlin swallowed, feeling his cheeks heat. He’d seen Arthur’s charm turned on nobles and members of the court, even Gwen at one point before she and Lancelot married, but seeing it aimed at him was too much. He had no idea how to handle such a thing.

“Take a breath, and just… say whatever comes back to you.” He said, giving Merlin’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “We’re okay.”

Merlin took a breath, as instructed, and thought back to the time he’d been fighting against the snake.

“It would get excited whenever it thought up some plan.” He said, realising he’d said something similar before. “I couldn’t see much of what was going on, I could hear a few words when I got closer with fighting back into control but never anything important. Except for Morgana. I remember… when the knights found me, I didn’t understand why they sounded different than Morgana did. I could hear everything she said even with the snake.”

“You don’t remember what happened when we found you?” Arthur asked with a furrowed brow. The questions helped.

Merlin frowned and tried to focus. “Gwaine called me bog man. He was there, wasn’t he?” He hated how small and uncertain he sounded.

“It was me and Gwaine. Leon and the others had just got back from searching.” Arthur told him.

“You were there?” He asked, knowing Arthur wouldn’t lie but the memories all seemed just out of reach. “Fomorroh kept taunting me, telling me that you’d die believing you’d been betrayed. I managed to get a second of control then…” he frowned for a moment, trying to remember that moment it came back to him. The realisation ached, knowing what he’d missed.

“You hugged me,” he murmured.

Arthur rolled his eyes. “I was happy to see you alive.”

“I missed it,” Merlin pouted. “The first time you hug me and I can’t even remember it, I had a second when you were pulling away but then it took over again. It was more careful after that, keeping me away from control.”

Arthur frowned at him, still knelt on the floor. Merlin almost forgot that Gwen and Gaius were there too, evidently it had slipped the kings mind too because he pulled Merlin forward and wrapped his arms around him. Merlin instantly melted under the warmth and safety of it.

His arms came up and held onto Arthur’s shoulders, fingers curling into his tunic and holding on like letting go would kill him.

“You actually hugged me back this time.” Arthur huffed in a whisper, breath landing on Merlin’s ear and their two heartbeats beating against each other’s chests.

“I’m so sorry, Arthur,” Merlin told him, tears brimming in his eyes and voice thick.

Arthur’s grip on him tightened. “You did nothing wrong. You saved my life, and did all you could.”

Merlin didn’t respond, only buried his face into Arthur’s neck, dampening his tunic with the tears that hadn’t fallen and breathing in the warmth.

“I’m sorry I didn’t notice what was going on.” Arthur whispered.

Merlin shook his head, not knowing the words to say. Arthur apologising never even crossed his mind, he’d never thought about Arthur having something to apologise for.

“You’ve nothing to apologise for.” Merlin whispered, teary eyed and trembling. Arthur’s hands ran up and down his back, rubbing circles into his shoulders and holding him close like just staying there would keep Morgana’s terror away.

‘Dear Gods, please let me keep him.’ Merlin prays desperately to any forces or divine powers that still listen to him.

His grip loosens, his arms tighten around Arthur’s shoulders, palms pressing flat against his shoulder blades. Merlin knows, given any chance, he’d hold on forever and he would never let Arthur go.

But then Arthur pulls away and Merlin has to suppress a pained whimper at the loss. Arthur pushes himself up and sits on the bench beside Merlin, they’re pressed together, shoulder to shoulder. Arthur doesn’t move away and neither does Merlin, Gwen and Gaius are kind enough not to mention it.

———

Thoughts? There's maybe one or two more parts to come but honestly motivation is a struggle at the moment so please be patient

#bbc merlin #merlin #merlin emrys #arthur pendragon #guinevere #gaius merlin #merthur #merlin bbc #fix it fic #merlin fanfic #fanfic #angst and hurt/comfort #a servant of two masters #i’m bad at tagging

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suugarbabe · 9 months

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Forget Me Not (2)

[Chapter 2]

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader

Word Count: ~2.2k

Warnings: none; fluff

“W-who are you guys?”

Fred’s words echoed in your head like a gut-wrenching scream. You turned to George, not wanting to believe the situation unfolding in front of you, “He’s kidding right? Just one of those things you guys do? Georgie, tell me he’s kidding.” George’s face was full of sympathy, placing a hand on your shoulder, “I don’t think so, duck. It’s probably only temporary, you saw the gash on his head.” You nodded, trying to calm yourself down. George was able to convince you to go grab Fred some water as Molly and Arthur continued to look after him. You were filling a cup for him, when Ron and Hermione came up to you. “How’s he doing,” Hermione’s tone was careful, her eyes full of sorrow for you. “He’s alive at least but…” you trailed off, making Ron’s already worried face grow more pained, “W-what is it, y/n?” You were holding back tears again, stumbling over your words, “H-he…he doesn’t remember anything. He a-asked who we were, like he didn’t even recognize any of us, I just…I don’t know what to do or how to help him.” Hermione pulled your into her and you wrapped your arms around the girl, nearly sobbing now. Ron held on to both of you, trying to be encouraging, “He’ll remember, it might just take some time, you’ve been through too much for him to forget it all. You’ll see.”

You had wanted Ron’s words to be comforting, but the next two weeks proved to be anything but. The entire Weasley family, Hermione, Harry and yourself had all been staying at the burrow. Fred had been in and out of consciousness dealing with the rest of his injuries. You were by his side for a few hours each night, but it always seemed like he woke for a short period when you were either out of the house or someone else was looking after him. George was the first person Fred remembered, unsurprisingly. It happened randomly about the second or third night home. Fred had woken up from the couch, hearing commotion in the kitchen. You and George were making breakfast that day, giving Molly a break as she’d been nothing but stressed since the end of the war. You were setting the table when Fred walked into the kitchen, clapping a large hand on his twin’s shoulder, “Morning, Georgie.” George responded on instinct at first, “Morning Freddi-, wait, what did you just say?” Fred looked at his twin like he had gone nuts, “I said good morning, what’s wrong with you?” Hearing this interaction you rushed into the kitchen, hoping that a miracle had happened and Fred remembered everyone again, but when he saw you, there was no recognition. Instead, he elbowed George in the side, “Who’s the bird, Georgie? Didn’t know you could get a girl as gorgeous as her to fall for you.” He threw you a playful wink, and your heart soared slightly at his ability to unknowingly reassure he was still attracted to you, despite not realizing who you were.

George gave you sorrowful eyes, but you just threw on your best smile, extending your hand out to Fred, “I’m, Y/n. While I appreciate the compliment, George and I are just friends.” He took your hand, kissing the top of it, “Well he is certainly a fool.” Your cheeks blushed immediately. George watched this interaction, smirk growing before remembering that Fred actually remembered who he was, “Freddie, you know who I am?” Fred looked at him like he had three heads, “Of course I know who my own twin is, ya git.” Fred laughed, shaking his head, but George grabbed him by the shoulders, “Freddie, my boy, what’s the last thing you remember?”

“Fred’s remembering things?” Ron was practically running down the stairs, but shouting as he went, “YOU GUYS FRED IS REMEMBERING THINGS!” There was suddenly a stampede of red hair, now all gathering in the kitchen, however it was evident George was the luckiest member of the family because when Fred saw the group of Weasley’s surrounding him his first response was, “Georgie, there a ginger convention in town?”

Within the next two weeks Fred had slowly began remembering each member of his family. Molly and Arthur were next, then Ron and Ginny, followed by Bill and Charlie. He remembered Percy last, or at least that’s what he said, no one could know for sure if it was the truth, or if he had remembered Percy earlier and just said he still didn’t remember to make him angry.

One afternoon, George had found you out in the back garden, watching the gnomes run around and fight each other. He sat down next to you, not saying anything but sharing his presence. After a moment, you spoke up, “I don’t think he’s ever going to remember me, Georgie... I love him so much, I guess he just didn’t feel the same.” George wrapped an arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer so your head was leaning on him. You wrapped your arms around his waist, “I really thought I was important enough to not forget, at least not forever.” You felt George shake his head, “I don’t think that’s it, duck. He definitely feels something for you, he talks about you just about every bloody night. It’s like when he first started falling for you. I’m hearing basically all the same bullocks he was spouting before you two got together.”

This made you feel a little better, that even though Fred couldn’t necessarily remember your relationship for the past year, he was falling for you all over again. If that’s what you had to do, then you would do it. You would pursue him again, make him fall in love with you again. You couldn’t lose him, not after everything that you’ve been through. Not after everything that’s happened.

“Why don’t you just tell him that you’re his girlfriend, duck? He’d be over the fucking moon to know he’s actually scored you before. Might even bring back all the memories of you to begin with.” You shook your head at George, wiping away your tears, “No, I can't do that. As much as it hurts I don’t want him to feel like he’s obligated to me if he doesn’t start remembering. That he has to be a certain way with me because that’s how it was before. I mean, I’m glad it seems like he has at least some sort of crush on me. Gives me hope, yanno? But, he’s gotta remember without being pushed.” George nodded in understanding.

So, you stood up from the garden bench, giving George one more hug and headed back towards the burrow. To your delight, Fred was sitting at the table, making himself a sandwich for lunch. He looked up when he heard someone enter, a smile breaking on his face when he saw it was you. His smile was one of the first things you fell in love with. It was hard not to, all the pranks and jokes he was pulling he was smiling nearly all the time. “Hey, y/n, was just making myself some lunch, want me to make you one too?” You nodded, sitting down across from him, “Sounds great, Freddie. Whatcha makin?”

His smile grew wider, if possible, “Marshmallow fluff, bananas and Nutella. You have to try it, it’s absolutely delicious. I cannot for the life of me remember who told me about these but I’ve been craving one all morning and had to make it.” You laughed to yourself. You had introduced Fred and George to these sandwiches the summer of second year, they said they were craving something sweet but Molly said you couldn't have only sweets for lunch. Thus, you provided the alternative to the twins. It became your regular munchies snack. Fred happily made you your own, observing you as you took your first bite.

“So, darling, what do you think?” Fred was watching you eagerly, analyzing your facial expressions. You hummed as you chewed, “So good.” You ate together in content silence. Every so often you would steal a glance at Fred, just to find him already looking at you. It reminded you of fifth year, when you first recognized you had a crush on him. You’d be sitting together at meals in the great hall. George and Dean drowning on about a prank they were planning and you’d glance at Fred, just to look at him. But he’d be looking at you already, freckled cheeks flushing and eyes darting away as soon as they locked with yours. But it was different today, he didn’t shy away when you caught him looking, he just kept staring, not ashamed. Your heart ached at how much you missed him.

“So do you feel like everything’s pretty much back to normal for you? Memory wise I mean,” you were gathering up your plate, grabbing his as well to put in the sink. He shook his head, “Sort of? But not entirely.” This made you a little hopeful, “What do you mean?” He shrugged, standing up from the table and heading to the couch, “Dunno it's like…I have all these memories of different things, some are so vivid and clear like I never forgot anything in the first place. But then others…it’s like…” he turned to you, both sitting on the couch now, “I have this very specific dream that I keep having, it feels like a memory but parts of it are kind of…fuzzy, if that makes sense.”

You placed a hand on his leg closest to you, it was instinct when you were comforting him, but you didn’t miss how his eyes darted down quickly and his cheeks flushed. You kept your hand there, encouraging him to continue, “How do you mean? Like you think it’s not a memory?” He shook his head, hands flying through the air as he spoke now, “No, no, it’s like I can feel it in my soul that it happened, but for whatever reason the person with me, I just can’t see them. Like, okay. So in this dream we’re at Hogwarts right? And we’re going through Snape's closet looking for the right ingredients to make these amazing fireworks because we’re going to blow them up during Ron’s owls. And I vividly remember pulling that stunt with George, the look on Umbridge’s face. Priceless. But whoever was with me that night, I just can’t see them.”

His face fell, and your heart started to ache for him. You knew it was you he couldn’t remember. You remember breaking into Snape’s closet, filling your school bags with different ingredients, feeling the rush of adrenaline when you heard Mrs. Norris down the corridor and Fred lacing his fingers with yours and he rushed you both down the hall and into a nearby classroom until he saw on the map that the coast was clear. “I know they were important to me,” Fred continued, “but, Merlin, every time I think about it, try harder to remember them I get this bloody headache and my chest hurts.” He was bent over now, elbows on his knees and head in his hands now.

You leaned closer to him, lightly scratching up and down his back. You’ve done it a million times to soothe him and it seemed to be having the same effect. His shoulders relaxed, breathing evening out. “This is gonna sound like a weird request, and if I’m overstepping boundaries you can tell me no,” Fred looked over at you, and you knew whatever request he had you were going to say yes. “Anything, Fred, what is it?” He took a deep breath, seemingly nervous about how you’d react, “I just, do you think you could hold me? Not like in a weird way! Just, could we lay down and I lay on you and you…keep scratching my back? I’ve just been so stressed and it’s one of the first things to really made me feel relaxed.”

You felt yourself melting at his request. You laid back on the couch, head resting on the armrest. You opened your arms, beckoning him to you. He crawled over to you, resting his upper half on top of you. The weight of him felt like home, a comfort you’ve been neglected of for the last two and a half weeks. He hasn’t been by any type of smoke or fireworks since before the day of the war but he still smelled like firework smoke and cinnamon. You had to resist deeply inhaling him. Like muscle memory his hands found solace around your waist. You ran your nails up and down his back, applying light pressure in the spots you know he loves. You threaded the fingers of your other hand in his hair, lightly scratching his scalp. You felt him hum against your neck, “Feels s’good. Very relaxing.” You smiled to yourself, happy to have him so close to you again. You felt his arms tighten around you ever-so-slightly, “M’sorry I don’t remember you, y/n.” You hands stilled as he kept talking, “I know you’re someone important to me. I can feel it, feel it all over. I wrack my brain every day for some sort of memory with you in it and I just can’t make them come.” You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, squeezing him hard against you now, “It’s okay, Freddie.” You kissed the top of his head, “We’ll make new memories.”

Taglist:

@words-are-cheap @l0ulistens @reallysparklychaos

AN: dunno how long this series is gonna be but it's gonna be kind of a slowburn regardless. also if your name is bold i tried to tag you and it didn't work. sozz :(

#forget me not #fred weasley fic #fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x you #fred weasley x y/n #harry potter #golden era #fred weasley fluff

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dollopheadsandclotpoles · 5 months

Note

For the quotes thingy, 94 for Merlin and Arthur

Sorry for the delay anon. Here's some modern-era workplace au merthur for ya. (There are sexual references but no actual smut in this, sorry if you wanted some haha)

“I bet I can make you scream my name.”

The worst thing about being in a secret relationship with Arthur Pendragon was that he could be a right bloody tease.

All Merlin had done was suggest they keep their relationship a secret. They had just gotten together after all, and they weren’t fourteen anymore. They didn’t have to immediately run and tell their friends every single thing about their dating life the second it happened, did they?

Sure, their relationship was a culmination of months of frustrated pining that Merlin thought was one-sided until Arthur dropped him to his flat post the office party and abruptly (and clumsily) confessed his feelings, which resulted in a kiss that made Merlin so weak-kneed he was positive he’d never been kissed like that before.

But the next morning, when he saw Arthur rousing in his bed, the sunlight alighting on him like he was a Classical painting of a half-naked Adonis, Merlin’s senses returned to him.

The words had come out in a rush, before he could stop them. “We shouldn’t tell anyone. About us.”

It took Arthur a moment to register the words, but as soon as he did, he looked affronted by the mere suggestion. “What? Why?”

“Just… you know. We work together. People will think I’m… sucking up to the boss.”

Arthur gave him a look that made it clear he knew that was bullshit. Technically, yes, Arthur was one of the bosses, but Merlin was in another department and didn’t report to Arthur at all, so they weren’t actually breaking any rules by getting involved. And Merlin in particular was known office-wide for not giving a single shit what his bosses thought anyway. A fact that made him far from Uther Pendragon’s favourite employee.

Arthur was watching him, brows raised slightly in suspicious contemplation. “What’s the real reason?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Merlin said, flicking on the electric kettle and letting the sound of bubbling water fill the small room.

Arthur wore the grumpy expression he wore during too-early meetings with particularly aggravating clients.

“Fine,” he said, eventually. “I won’t tell anyone.”

Merlin smiled, relieved. “Thanks. I just think it’s better t-”

“But we’re not having sex.”

Merlin let out a scoff. “What?”

“Either you tell me the truth about why you want to hide this, or we’re not having sex.”

Merlin crossed his arms, raising his eyebrows. “Your threats aren’t going to work on me, Arthur.”

Arthur gave him that lopsided grin of his that made the back of Merlin’s neck burn. “We’ll see.”

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

It started off small. A brush of their hands by the water cooler, or Arthur bumping his knee against Merlin’s when they were seated next to each other in the conference room. It was sweet, and hardly distracting. But then, Arthur started wearing that cologne that Merlin liked a bit too much, and leaning all the way over him when taking a look at the agreements, instead of just taking the files back to his office, like he used to. With the heat of Arthur’s body behind him and the smell of his—utterly intoxicating cologne— all around him, Merlin had to remind himself not to let his conviction waver. The prat couldn’t always have his way.

Then, Arthur began joining Merlin and Gwaine in the squash court before work, clad in shorts that showed off his stupidly well defined calves, which—until then—Merlin hadn’t ever thought of as a particularly sexy part of a man’s body. But seeing Arthur run around in a sweat-damp t-shirt, his golden hair sticking to his forehead as he whooped loudly about scoring a point, seemed to awaken a part of him that he did not want to acknowledge.

He didn’t even want to think about the locker room after. Arthur really had an aggravatingly nice ass.

The cute knee bumps in the conference room turned into Arthur’s hand on his knee, then his thigh, rising steadily upwards until Merlin choked on his water, and started coughing so hard Uther Pendragon asked him if he was unwell.

But Merlin was stubborn. Arthur was being infuriating on purpose, and Merlin was not going to acknowledge that he was tempted. Was he expected to just give in to the prat’s every whims? No. He wasn’t going to cave. Especially not when Arthur came into his department wearing a light blue shirt that was a little bit too tight and which brought out the deep, fervent blue of his eyes, asking to use their photocopier.

“Of course,” Gretchen, Merlin’s department head said.

“I think you have a slightly different model down here. I’m not sure how to use it. Maybe Merlin could help me?”

Gretchen looked expectantly at Merlin, who breathed in sharply through his nose. He couldn’t very well say no in front of his department head. He ignored the smirk Will gave him as he stormed past Arthur and into the photocopy room.

The room was cramped, made even smaller by the four massive photocopiers they had crammed in there. He refused to look up when he heard Arthur come in, and when he heard the telltale click of the lock.

Why did they even have a lock in here?

“What do you need to photocopy?” Merlin asked, he kept his back to Arthur, his tone a lot ruder than he had intended. His skin already felt like it was buzzing with static. Damn Arthur Pendragon and his bleeding ultimatums.

Arthur reached past Merlin, his hand grazing Merlin’s side as he placed the document on the bed of the photocopier. Even though the rough fabric of his shirt, Merlin’s skin seared with heat at the touch.

“Need 30 copies of that,” Arthur said, his breath warm on Merlin’s neck.

Merlin slammed down the lid of the machine, ignoring the goosebumps that ran up his arm, and turned to face Arthur, realising belatedly that he was caught between Arthur and the massive copy machine. Maybe he hadn’t quite thought this through. Arthur smiled, crookedly, putting one arm up on the machine to trap Merlin in place.

“Is that all?” Merlin asked, forcefully.

“I think you should stay here. In case something goes wrong with the machine.” Arthur was pressing up against him now, his hips right up against Merlin’s own. Merlin felt the vibrations of the giant machine run through his spine.

He swallowed hard. “I think I should go back to work.”

“I’m your boss, Merlin. You have to listen to me.”

“No you’re not, and no I don’t.” Merlin said, though his thoughts were buzzing, melding into the whir of the copier.

He could feel Arthur’s breath on his lips now, hot and sweet. “These machines are so loud, I’ll wager we could be as loud as we want in here.”

“I… have no plans of being loud in here.”

“No?” Arthur asked, eyes boring into Merlin’s. “If you give me the chance, I bet I can make you scream my name.”

Merlin’s whole body was burning hot and felt stretched too-tight, like a rubber band about to snap. He could barely muster up his next words, which came out more like a croak. “I’m good.”

Arthur groaned loudly, pushing away from him. Merlin instantly missed the heat of his body. “God, Merlin, you are the most stubborn person I have ever met. You think I can’t tell how pent up you are? Why are you so insistent on keeping this a secret? Do you not want to be in a relationship with me?”

Merlin blinked, the fog in his brain clearing away, just a little. “What? Of course I do.”

“Then why the hell are you so insistent on keeping this a secret?”

Arthur was watching him, his expression was raw, his eyes wide. There he was, his emotion laid bare, and Merlin understood, suddenly, what it all meant. He’d thought it was harmless, asking Arthur to keep them a secret. But all this time, Arthur thought he didn’t care.

“Do you not want to be exclusive? Is this going too fast?” Arthur asked.

“It’s not like that,” Merlin said, putting as much earnestness into his voice as he could. “It’s…,” he ran his fingers through his hair, making one side stick up, and sighed. “It’s Gwaine and Will. And Morgana.”

“Huh? Do you mean… you’re… also seeing Gwaine, Will and my sister?”

“What? No! Yeesh. I don’t think I have that much game. No! It’s… they…,” Merlin sighed loudly, dropping his arms to his side. “They used to say I had a crush on you.”

Arthur stared back, uncomprehending. “Huh?”

“Well you used to be really bloody annoying when I first started working here! And I kept saying that I hated you, and they kept saying I had a crush, and I didn’t… not then… but then I did, but by then I didn’t want to admit it… and you were still a giant clotpole, by the way… so I kept saying that I didn’t like you and…” Merlin gestured wildly towards the door. “If they find out we’re together they’re never going to let me hear the end of it.”

Arthur was staring at him now like he’d grown a set of donkey ears and was braying.

“That’s what all this is about?” he asked, disbelief in his voice. “This is about your pride!?”

“It’s about my reputation,” Merlin insisted.

“But you are going to tell them eventually, aren’t you?”

“Of course, dollophead. Just… they’re going to be so annoying about it. I just want to put that off for as long as I can. Alright?”

“You really are infuriatingly stubborn,” Arthur huffed. He tugged Merlin by the tie, yanking him closer and kissing him hard on the mouth. Merlin’s skin burned. He was practically dizzzy when they pulled apart, his fingers still threaded through Arthur’s hair.

“So,” he gasped, trying to regain his breath, “are you done tormenting me now? You only said I had to tell you why.”

Arthur straightened out Merlin’s tie that had gone askew. “See you at my place after work then. I have a bet I have to make good on.”

Merlin grinned, his heart still hammering in his chest. “Don’t be so sure you’re gonna win.”

Arthur smirked. “This time, I’m pretty confident I will.”

#drabble game #my writing #bbc merlin #merthur #merlin x arthur #merlin #arthur pendragon #merlin fic #merlin ficlet #merlin emrys #i first thought It'd be really funny to find a totally non-smutty way to use this line #but then I was like let's just give the people what they want #you knew what you wanted when you asked for this I know it #anonymous #ask

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hazelsmirrorball · 5 months

Text

Bad idea right? | Charles Leclerc

pairings: Ex! Charles Leclerc x Singer! FemReader Summary: After a drunken night, exes rekindle under the moonlight. Face claim: Olivia Rodrigo Warnings: suggested language, exes, english isn’t my main language so excuse any mistake. authors note: thank you so much for the love on the last one. I really appreciate it a lot.

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y/n just posted

liked by taylorswift, arthur_leclerc, oscarpiastri and 4,304,00 others

y/n new things, bad things coming real soon!

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lilymhe talented girl!

→ y/n i love you!!

username mother is mothering!

username the color red? is this like an Easter egg

→username Charles! this has to be about Charles

username girl what!

username how soon are we taking about?

username omg! this is sour all over again

→ username charles pr team are fighting for his life

username arthur liking? hell is breaking loose

...

Six months. It had been six months since y/n and charles had broken up. Six months since they decided to have no contact with each other, claiming that it was the best. Throughout the six months Y/n hadn’t heard a thing from Charles, the occasional stalk on instagram but that was about it. Both of them were stubborn to break the no contact.

Y/n knew Charles like the palm of her hand, when their relationship had hit the four year milestone she knew the relationship had run its course. It didn’t take her by surprise when he decided to break up a few after their anniversary. The couple didn’t end on bad terms, both deciding that it was a good idea to take a break, Charles was at his peak with F1 and Y/n had finally gotten the record deal she had been desperately searching for. Time would tell if they were actually good for each other.

What did take Y/n by surprise was her phone lighting up the dark room showing the text message Charles had left her. She was supposed to be having fun with her friends, she was out having the time of her life and all of a sudden Charles decided to break their no contact. Maybe it was the alcohol in her system or the euphoric feeling that was creeping up her system due to the party but she found her way pushing past the sweaty bodies. Her left hand gripped on the bottle of alcohol while the right one held onto the phone for dear life.

When she finally reached the exit of the bar, she quickly slipped out sitting on the edge of the sidewalk to process the text message Charles had sent her. Y/n sat her drink next to her while pressing on her phone to unlock it, her eyes quickly landing on the text message.

‘hey :)”

Lowercase hey and a smiley face. What does a lowercase hey and a smiley face mean? The alcohol on the Y/n system was driving her manic. There she was, sitting down on the dirty side walk over analyzing her ex boyfriend’s hey. If she were sober she would’ve been calm and probably would’ve reacted the same way but with the alcohol flowing in her body she wanted that hey to have another meaning. She didn’t know how long she stayed typing on her phone but when she snapped back to reality when her phone started ringing, before picking it up she drank the contents of the drink next to her to gain courage.

“Hey Y/n! I saw you were typing a lot and decided to call you. I guess it’s easier to talk than to write, right?” Charles responded with a small laugh. Y/n awkwardly followed his laugh embarrassment filling her body. She was forever grateful that Charles couldn’t see her.

“Oh, yeah. Sorry, I just didn’t know what to text you. You are really full of surprises, I thought we had said that we weren’t going to contact each other” as soon as the words left Y/n’s mouth she instantly cringed knowing that her choice or words and tone didn’t help her situation. Charles let out a sigh from the line making Y/n let out an inaudible scream hiding her face between her knees.

“I just wanted to see how things were. I was scrolling through instagram and saw that you were in Miami and I just thought it was a weird coincidence that both of us were in Miami at the same time. I’m actually staying at a hotel nearby. I’m all alone and… ” Charles hesitated thinking if it was a good idea to continue his ramble. “I wanted to see if you wanted to join me. Maybe we could catch up. I miss you” Charles slurred being in the same condition as Y/n, it went unnoticed by her.

As the words slipped out of Charles mouth, Y/n took her face from in between her knees looking at the phone this time covering her mouth not believing what Charles was implying. Y/n she hadn't known Charles well enough to know when he wanted her. Maybe it was the picture she had posted on her instagram story or the lack of intimacy he was feeling but Y/n could sense and undertone from the other line.

“I’m out with my friends right now, Charles. I can’t just ditch them.” Y/n sighed as she looked at Charles' contact picture. God, she could feel her body turning into mush. She needed to snap out of it, they were done, she knew that.

“They won’t even notice that you’re gone. Plus, I know for a fact that your friends do it to you all the time.” Charles replied as Y/n played with the end of her shirt thinning her options through.l

“What would we do if I go there? Because I can assure you I’m having fun right now and if I go to your hotel it can’t be to do boring things” Y/n asked innocently while playing with the rim of her cup. Charles let out what she could assume was a needy sigh making her smirk.

“We can do whatever you want, Y/n. But I can assure you, you’ll have the time of your life. So what do you say?” Charles said and Y/n can imagine the small desperate look on his face. She wanted to egg on the feeling waiting a few seconds as she was searching for an answer hearing Charles rough breathing from the other side of the phone.

Y/n could barely hear her thoughts. She knew if she was in Charles' room that she wouldn’t be able to think clearly. It was a good idea to see Charles at these hours of the night. It was a really bad idea right? Maybe tonight wasn’t the best idea. She shouldn’t.

“I don’t know, Charles. I should probably not go” She barely mumbled and Charles waited a few seconds before answering.

“I promise it won’t be a mistake. I’ll send you an uber to pick you up. My room’s 215.”

“Fuck it. It’s fine, I’ll go.’

She wasn’t going to hear the end of this. Her friends were going to talk so much shit when they found out about this. But right now, she shouldn’t care. After six months, she was going to see Charles. Yes, he was her ex. But can’t two people reconnect? Exe’s could be friendly, she didn't see the wrong in that. Y/n only saw him as a friend. This was just going to be a friendly encounter. Two friends having a late night hang out, nothing special.

Y/n regretted a lot of things in her lifetime, but as Y/n found herself in the back of the uber xl just outside of Charles hotel, she started to think. She tried to think of things she had regretted ever since she met Charles and the only things that came to mind were things she didn’t regret doing, one of them being standing outside of Charles' hotel.

She stumbled into the elevator pressing the second floor button while leaning against her side waiting to see the face she had been missing. As the elevator doors opened patiently slowly she watched the door numbers increase as she walked farther in the hallway. When the number she was looking for came into view, she smiled, her hand hovering over it to knock but before she had the chance to do so, the door quickly opened.

There he was. Charles Leclerc, in all his glory. He looked down at her smiling at her with the smile she had fallen deeply for. She could say she had seen hotter men but seeing him with some loose sweatpants laying on his hips made her feel things she couldn’t even explain. God, when she looked at him her brain just said nonsense and she couldn’t even read her thoughts. All she could think of was the things that were going to happen once she entered that room.

“It’s really nice seeing you again, Y/n. You look beautiful.” Charles said, breaking the intense staring between the two pulling Y/n into a tight hug. Y/n responded missing being between his arms. She hid her face on his neck sensing his strong cologne taking her into an intoxicating trance. Charles' hand slowly wandered Y/n’s back landing on her lower back, rubbing it softly. The pair didn’t want to break their loving embrace, both of them desperately needing it but they also didn’t want to make headlines. So after a few minutes Charles pulled away, leaning past the door letting her scoot past him. Y/n eyes scanned the room, noticing the empty bottles of alcohol around the small room made her finally realize that Charles was in the same state as her. Y/n sat on the edge of the bed resting her hand on her knees looking down at the floor. Charles quickly closed the door behind him, while Y/n moved herself side to side on the bed attempting to get comfortable.

“No need to get all flustered, Y/n. It’s me. Now, I’m really glad you came here Y/n. How’s things? How’s your family and your music career? How's it going?” Charles started looking forward, not daring to look at her. Y/n blinked several times, starting to regret her decision of coming in the first place.

“Stop with the small talk and kiss me already, Charlie

At the sound of the nickname that he missed hearing the past few months. And with that Charles softly pushed Y/n back straddling her. He wasted no time attaching their lips together. Hunger. That’s what it felt like kissing each other after six months. None of them wanted to lose each other. Both of them let out a moan against their lips getting used to the touch they had missed. Y/n flipped them over as she looked down at Jason, pulling away. Charles instantly grabbed her waist, probably leaving a finger marked on her waist. A smirk adorned her lips as she noticed Charles unsteady breathing. Charles sent her a loopy smile and all she could think about was that she didn’t regret being here. She only saw him as a friend, tripping and falling into his bed.

No, it wasn’t a bad idea.

…

Y/n let out a groan as she turned to the side searching for her ringing phone. When she finally got a hold of it she noticed Charles' strong grip on her. She hid a smile as Charles parted lips let out little snores, his eye furrowed unintentionally. For a second Y/n forgot the rigging phone in her hand as her eyes wandered on Charles’ bare chest. Her finger traced on top of the bare skin noticing the marks from the night before. Charles’ eyes fluttered open glaring at her playfully. Y/n snapped back to reality moving her phone towards her eyes answering quickly.

“Finally! Where the hell are you, girl?” Y/n’s friend exclaimed loudly as Y/n pulled the phone away trying not to hear her that loud.

“I decided to go to bed early. That’s all.” Y/n responded while hearing her friend letting out a sigh of relief. As she did that Charles let out a chuckle gaining her friends attention.

“Wait, is there someone with you? Y/n” she exclaimed once again before Charles could say anything Y/n covered his mouth.

Even if it wasn’t a bad idea, her friends didn’t have to know she was under Charles Leclerc sheets.

instagram

y/nxcharlesupdates just posted

liked by user10, user19 and 1,037 others

y/nxcharlesupdates Charles showed up to Y/n's Bad Idea Right release party! Glad to see that they are still supporting each other as friends. Stream Bad Idea Rightl!!

ps. the music video for bad idea is out right now!!!

view all 568 comments

username friends? friends don't look at each other like that!

username can't believe y/n is looking at charles like that. do remember that that is the same guys she wrote sour about?

→username I can't blame charles he's still hooked on a bad bitch

username what do you mean out now?!

username who's hairy hand is that?

username y/n is just like us

→ username y/n stand up

username a Charles and y/n the world is healing

username she is glowing

→ username obviously, she's getting that dick everyday

instagram

y/n just posted

liked by conangray, charles_leclerc, lilymhe and 5,678,897 others

y/n bad idea right? this friday <3. I had such a fun time making this song with @dan_nigro in miami last year. we wrote it as a joke and we loved it so much that we made it into a full song.

view all 2,467 comments

lilymhe on repeat

→ y/n i love you!!

username real music is back!

username y/n dropped a song about her sex life with Charles now that their exe's on their anniversary day

→username and? another song Charles can say it's about him

username what do you mean out now?!

username If I were Charles I would be so proud

username don't worry y/n! it wasn't a bad idea

→ username charles pr team are fighting for his life

charles_leclerc love the song!

...

thank you for reading!!

466 notes · View notes

zablife · 1 year

Text

A Loving Wife

Tommy Shelby x Natasha Shelby (OC)

Summary: When Tommy finds the perfect woman his family encourages him to marry her and bring her into the family business, but what do they really know about his loving wife?

Author’s Note: Requested by the lovely @l1-14. I’ve changed canon timeline to suit my whims. Michael’s storyline has been delayed.

Warnings: drinking, language, manipulation, drugging, threat with a gun, murder, mention of blood

“I like this one, Tommy,” Ada said with a look of approval in her eye. It wasn’t a feeling she expected to have after so many bad decisions her brother had made over the years, but she had a good feeling about his new relationship.

“Could that be because you picked her for me?” Tommy asked, a smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth before bringing an unlit cigarette to his lips.

Ada rolled her eyes playfully. “That’s not how it happened. I merely suggested—”

“You insisted I take her for dinner if I recall correctly,” Tommy said with a chuckle, recalling the excitement in his sister’s voice the day she’d called to tell him about the young woman with the dazzling smile and heart of gold he had to meet.

“Well, however it happened, I’m happy for you,” Ada said, touching his arm lightly for emphasis as he reached for his lighter. He could hear the sincerity in her voice and it touched him. He didn’t need his younger sister’s blessing to marry the woman of his dreams, but it would make her entry into the family much smoother if she did. Now if Polly felt the same he knew he’d found a rare creature.

He spied them talking across the room and held his breath momentarily. He could easily tell from this distance whether or not Polly liked her. Her body language would give her away. To his great astonishment, the animated way she spoke, gesturing with her hands so openly and carefree told him what he wanted to know.

Approaching them slowly, he listened as Natasha answered, “I’ll take you there sometime. My treat, Aunt Pol.”

“I see you two are getting on like a house on fire,” Tommy said with a grin. Looking at Polly he asked, “Aunt Pol?” with a quirked eyebrow.

“Tommy if you don’t put a ring on this girl’s finger and make her a part of this family, I’ll shoot you myself,” she said, pulling him in for a hug. He accepted, holding his cigarette out so as not to burn her.

Turning to look at Natasha, he gave a wink over Polly’s shoulder asking, “Has she spoiled the surprise?”

“Not a bit. I was thinking now is the perfect time actually,” she said, pulling a diamond from her pocket and placing it on her finger. Polly clapped a hand over her mouth, stifling a scream. She hit Tommy squarely on the shoulder as she shouted, “You bastard!”

Turning to Natasha she grabbed for her hand, examining the ring. “When?” Was all she managed to say as she looked between them in complete shock.

“Last week when I went to London,” Tommy replied. Seeing his chance to make an announcement, Tommy motioned for the maids to bring out the champagne and made it official, telling everyone assembled his intention to marry Natasha.

Arthur was the only person who didn’t immediately congratulate the couple, sitting alone on the sofa, nursing a glass of whisky. Tommy thought it might be because he was preoccupied with thoughts of his own crumbling marriage. However, it was something more. Natasha was smart, beautiful and charming, but there was an odd way about her that didn’t sit well with Arthur. Her fingertips on Tommy’s shoulder, shifting his position slightly, and the way she removed the whisky glass from his hand without him noticing. Before he laughed at a joke, he looked to her. However, the more Arthur drank, the further he was from a conclusion and reconciled himself to the fact that Tommy knew best.

—————————————————

“Last item of business,” Tommy said, rushing through his agenda for the day, eager to get home to his new bride. “The advertisement for the new accountant,” he said, extending his hand out to Lizzie for the typed notice that would run in the paper.

Polly cocked her head and held up her hand before he could pass it to her. “Tommy, this is ridiculous. Natasha is perfectly qualified with her education. Why aren’t we using family?”

Tommy pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled. He didn’t want another lecture from his aunt about women in the modern work place, but he could tell she was going to insist on Natasha for the job. He knew it was partly because she wanted someone to gossip with now that Ada was working in Boston, but she also admired Natasha’s sharp mind.

Tommy bit the inside of his cheek, not wanting to admit how much of the company business he kept from his wife, thus inciting another lecture about trust. In his defense, Natasha was clear when they married she desired nothing more than a role as wife and stepmother to Charlie. Tommy couldn’t argue with that position as Arrow House was his sanctuary and he didn’t want that peace disturbed.

“Natasha has other things on her mind, Pol,” Tommy said vaguely as he tried to push the paper before his aunt.

She accepted, but didn’t read it, looking over the parchment to arch an eyebrow. “A child?” she said with barely contained enthusiasm.

Tommy’s mouth quirked at one end in a half hearted smile. He wanted children with Natasha, but it hadn’t happened yet. He hated giving his aunt false hope so he shook his head.

“Then give her something to occupy her in the meantime,” Polly said. “All in favor of offering the position to our Natasha?” Polly asked, quickly usurping Tommy’s authority. Tommy stood, mouth agape as the motion passed unanimously.

Regaining control of the meeting, he swiftly brought proceedings to a close and everyone filed out except for Polly who lingered by Tommy’s desk hesitantly. She had one more item of business, but had trouble voicing it as she wasn’t accustomed to keeping secrets from her nephew. Clearing her throat she began, “Tommy, there's something I'd like to discuss.”

Tommy flicked his eyes to her, irritation evident in his brisk movements, arranging and shuffling papers to take with him. “I told you I’d speak with her, Pol. Now let me get home,” he said briskly, tucking the documents away in his brief case.

“No, it’s not about the job,” she said with a wave of her hand. She paused before continuing on haltingly as she attempted to gauge Tommy’s reaction. “Natasha’s told me about the good deed you’ve done. The search for my son and daughter.” She took a deep breath to steady herself, feeling tears welling in her eyes as she said, “She says you might have found Micheal.”

Tommy froze in place, uncertain if he should say anymore than what Polly already knew. He had wanted to keep it quiet until it was certain because he knew she couldn’t bear any more disappointments. However, Natasha said she received confirmation of the young man's whereabouts two days ago and he realized it was time to tell her.

Tommy looked into his aunts watery eyes and gave a small nod. “Yeah, it’s true. He’s alive.” Polly collapsed into the chair opposite him, a tear slipping down her cheek as she asked, “I still don’t understand how…” she trailed off, wiping the tear away gently.

Tommy came to sit beside her, offering a handkerchief. “Natasha’s connections in the council, people who keep the parish records. That’s all I know.”

Polly nodded quickly. “When can I see him?”

“We’ll know something soon,” Tommy promised with a reassuring nod.

Taking Tommy's hand in hers, Polly searched Tommy's face as she said, "We got lucky with this one, Tommy. She's an angel, you know."

"She really is," Tommy agreed.

——————————-

“Tommy!” Natasha called excitedly when she heard him arrive. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him before he had a chance to remove his overcoat. He chuckled at her eagerness for him even after a year of marriage. Humming with satisfaction, he held her away from him to look at her beaming smile.

“I have the most wonderful news about the plans for the children’s home! Just this afternoon I met with Father Hughes and we reviewed the offices and drawings of the grounds with a beautiful area for the children to play. Oh, and we’ve received permission to remove the three rotten floorboards upstairs. We’ll be granted a license within a month,” she added with a little squeal of delight. Stopping to take a breath she looked at Tommy ruefully. “I’m sorry, darling, should I ask you how your day was like a good wife?” she asked, biting her lip.

Tommy shook his head as he took her face in his hands gently. “You’re perfect, you know that?” he murmured before rubbing his nose against hers and kissing her tenderly.

Later that evening as he sat with one arm around Natasha in front of a roaring fire, he asked, “Darling, do you ever feel restless here during the day?”

Natasha laced her fingers through his and rubbed her cheek along his shoulder. He felt her smirk against him as she replied, “Is this a way of asking if I miss you?”

Tommy chuckled. “Perhaps….or if you’d ever think of joining Shelby Company Limited,” he said, spilling the news quickly before he had a chance to overthink it.

Natasha pulled away to study his face, trying to determine if her were actually serious about the offer. “Me? What would I do?” she inquired.

“You’d be our new accountant,” Tommy said matter-of-factly, wondering if she would consider it.

“I see. And what about my charity work? I couldn’t forget about that,” she reminded her husband.

“Of course not. I’d be sure you had plenty of time for that. No long hours for you,” he promised, tilting her chin to look up at him.

“Well I do know the boss so that would earn some special privileges, would it not?” she teased.

“I can think of a few,” Tommy said, dipping his head to capture her lips. She giggled into his mouth and he deepened the kiss, taking her enthusiasm as a yes.

——————————————-

“But why, Tom?” Arthur asked, running to catch up to his brother. “You know I’d look after the lad if you’d only asked.”

Tommy looked back at his brother incredulously. “Arthur, you can barely look after yourself. Linda is God knows where with Billy and you want to look after my son?” he scoffed.

“It’d be better than shipping him off to strangers,” Arthur argued.

“It’s a boarding school, Arthur, not an orphanage,” Tommy countered, shaking his head.

“Raised by a bunch of bloody toffs who’ll teach him to hate ya,” Arthur spat. He disliked the notion and he was sure Tommy did as well. The idea of his nephew leaving the family at such a young age was unthinkable, especially when Tommy had always been against it.

“Natasha and I are doing what’s best for our son and if you don’t like it, you can fuck off,” Tommy said dismissively, picking up his pace.

“So that’s it. This came from Natasha,” Arthur said accusingly, finally understanding the logic behind Tommy’s decision to send away his only child. “Like everything else that’s rotten around here,” he added, quietly.

Hearing his brother’s remark, Tommy stopped mid-stride. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean, eh?”

Arthur stepped toward him with a smug look asking, “You’re the smart one, ain’t ya? Well ask yourself something, brother. Why would a charming, educated woman want a Birmingham gangster?”

Tommy sucked his teeth, “Someone like me?” He raised his eyebrows in question to Arthur, his anger reaching a boiling point.

“Yeah, a pawn she can use. But you still trust her more than you trust any of us, don’t ya?” he asked jamming a finger into Tommy’s chest, the hurt evident in his voice.

“Yeah, I do,” Tommy said, pushing his brother away harshly. “And why shouldn’t I? She’s certainly got more brains than you have.”

“She’s been here less than two years. You barely know her Tommy!” he shouted.

“She’s my fucking wife, Arthur! And you’re nothing but a bloody foot soldier,” Tommy yelled, turning to leave. Smoothing over his hair, he regained his composure and after a deep breath, he added icily, “Don’t speak about Natasha again or I will cut you from this family. Understood?”

“Yes, sir, sergeant major,” Arthur answered through gritted teeth, bitterness seeping from his tongue as he stalked away.

————————————————

A sharp knock on the glass of Polly’s office door had her straightening in her chair and reaching for her top drawer where she kept her gun. As her hand hovered over the weapon, the door swung open to reveal an exhausted looking Natasha, a stack of files in her arm.

“What are you doing here so late, love?” Polly asked, shutting the drawer and motioning for Natasha to sit.

“Finishing bloody paperwork,” Natasha huffed, dropping the folders onto Polly’s desk. She looked utterly exhausted and Polly couldn’t help but take pity on the poor girl.

Polly came to sit at the edge of her desk and offered a cigarette as a show of camaraderie. As she fished her lighter from her pocket and lit their cigarettes, she reassured Natasha by saying, “I know there’s a lot going on with the new business in America, but that will all be sorted soon.”

“Well if Tommy weren’t so insistent on protecting my delicate ears, I could do more,” Natasha said with a laugh.

“He wants to keep your hands clean. Keep you safe, dear,” Polly said gently.

“That might be true, but I have to know as much as possible to protect our interests and Tommy isn’t always focused on the larger picture,” Natasha hinted.

“How do you mean?” Polly asked, leaning forward to show her concern.

Running a manicured hand over a manila folder by her side Natasha explained, “Tommy’s being obstinate about the financial plan I’ve proposed for next year and if I knew what he was working on in America, I could be sure the company is secure.” Sensing Polly’s hesitation she assumed a sweet smile, adding, "Tommy thinks he can do this all on his own, but we women have more sense. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Polly took a drag of her cigarette, blowing the smoke up toward the ceiling as she thought. She didn’t like the idea of disclosing company secrets without Tommy’s permission, no matter how close she and Natasha had become. Tapping the ash of her cigarette into the crystal ashtray, Polly took her time answering as she attempted to be diplomatic. “I think this can wait for you husband, dear. Don’t you?”

It was clearly not the answer Natasha hoped for as she pursed her lips and exhaled heavily through her nose, a thick plume of smoke emitting from her nostrils. She shoved her chair from Polly’s desk harshly and stood as though she meant to leave. “Honestly, Pol, I don’t know why you thought I could make a difference here if no one listens to my advice,” she said, speech harsh and clipped. Crossing to the bar in the corner she poured herself a drink, silence once again building along with an uncomfortable pressure in Polly’s chest. She felt a decided shift in Natasha’s attitude that concerned her.

Polly wondered why she was suddenly so keen on having her own way. Natasha was agreeable and polite, never rude or pushy. However, Polly thought it must be the fatigue and desire to finish up for the evening. She pitied her new niece with everything she put up with at home. Despite the love he showed for his wife, Tommy was not an easy man.

In an attempt to show she understood her frustrations, Polly broke the tension in the room with an airy laugh. “You’re right, Tommy’s never had the best set of ears. Perhaps—“

But she was unable to finish as Natasha whipped around, slamming her drink on the bar and sloshing its contents. “No! Perhaps if you listened more, you’d see that I’m the one whose favor you need to earn if you’ve any hope of seeing your son again. You see, I’ll have the information I desire one way or another, but you need me to find Michael,” she said smugly.

Polly shook her head slowly. “We’ve had all sorts in here, trying to ruin this family, but I never thought it would be you, Natasha.” She took a deep breath as she let the pain sink in fully, then her protective instinct took hold and she raged at the younger woman.

“You think you’re clever don’t you, love? Well, don’t think you’re the first one of Tommy’s women to try and shake us down. You might just get a few pounds for your trouble, but I will personally see to it that Tommy knows exactly what you are. And even if he forgives you, I never will,” Polly said, returning Natasha’s threats with her own venom.

“We’ll have to do something about that then, won’t we?” Natasha asked menacingly.

——————————————-

Tommy exited his hotel, ducking his head to shield himself from the driving rain. Arthur and John had gone ahead hours ago and he promised to follow in the Bentley when he was finished with the last of his meetings. It had been a long two weeks away from his wife and all he wanted was to return to her.

He didn’t get more than a few paces from the hotel before he felt someone close at his side, the barrel of a gun jabbed into his ribs. “Get in the car,” a deep voice commanded. Without seeing a way out, Tommy complied, wondering which of his enemies had found him this time.

As soon as he had been shoved into the backseat of the waiting coupe, a man in the front seat spoke from under the brim of his hat. “You disappoint me, Mr. Shelby. I had heard you’d be a much more formidable adversary, but alas you are a mortal man.”

The discomfort from the bitter cold and drenched clothing were enough to remind him of this fact, but the insult to his reputation was far worse, unnerving him greatly as he raised his eyes to the rearview mirror. Shining white teeth and thin pale lips annunciated the next few words perfectly and Tommy found himself unable to draw his attention away from the glint in the mirror. The figure in the shadows held Tommy with rapt attention promising, “We can reach anyone at anytime, Mr. Shelby. Our people are everywhere, even in your own home at this very moment.”

The words still reverberated painfully as Tommy thought of Natasha alone with the staff at Arrow House. There were a number of new faces in their ranks he hadn’t properly vetted and his lapse in recent judgement was making him ill. He’d left the household to Natasha after their marriage when he should have looked after her more carefully.

He soon found himself forcing the words through clenched jaw, trying to keep some semblance of control even as the rage built inside himself, “Tell me what you want me to do and it will surely be done.”

An amused chuckle rose from the throat of his enemy as the car engine roared to life. “Yes, I’m sure you will. When the time comes, my associate will instruct you and you will do whatever I ask.” Without further explanation, Tommy was unceremoniously dumped onto the pavement, the car speeding away from him in the dense fog.

———————————————

Tommy rushed up the steps of Arrow House two at a time, calling for Natasha despite the late hour. The house was dark and silent, no one, not even Mary coming to greet him. The stillness haunted him until he came upon the master bedroom, lit only by the warm glow of the fireplace. The eery shadows it cast on the walls made it difficult to tell if anyone were in the room and he entered cautiously. His shaking palm rested on the butt of his revolver tucked into the leather holster at his side, fingers twitching as his rational mind fought his paranoia.

The fire crackled pleasantly and a drink awaited on the side table, ice clinking against the side of the glass as it melted. The whole scene was rather peaceful and domestic, and for a moment Tommy wondered if the events of the afternoon had been nothing more than scare tactics. Frozen with indecision, Tommy caught the sound of Natasha’s melodic voice wafting from the bathroom and his shoulders sagged in relief.

“Darling, are you alright? You don’t look well,” Natasha said, approaching him in her pink satin dressing gown.

“I’m fine…everything’s fine,” Tommy said, taking in lungfuls of air as he attempted to calm himself. His throat was dry and the room was suddenly far too warm. As he worked to remove his jacket and tie, Natasha’s fingers slipped under his gun holster and carefully laid it on the mantle.

“Why don’t you relax, hmm?” she asked, fetching him his whisky and guiding him to sit.

Tommy slumped into the chair furthest from the fireplace as he took a large gulp of his drink. Natasha stood over him, massaging his neck and shoulders until she felt the tension begin to subside.

Tommy placed a hand over hers and squeezed as he demanded, “Natasha, I want all members of staff fired tomorrow. They’ll be paid their wages for the month and then I want them gone. Is that understood?” He stared ahead as he waited for his wife to agree.

Natasha’s only response was to remove her fingertips from the long sections of hair she’d been carding, stepping aside to take a seat on the ottoman. She shook her head as she reached for the empty glass in Tommy’s hand. “That won’t be necessary,” she said quietly.

“So something did happen,” Tommy said, paranoia returning as he attempted to sit up straight. His head swam with the effort and he lurched forward in an uncoordinated jolt.

“Careful, you drank too quickly, darling,” Natasha said, placing her hand to his chest and urging him to sit back. Tommy’s eyes darted to the whisky bottle and back at his wife as she explained, “It’s not poison, just a mild sedative. We both know you don’t like to be told what to do and I couldn’t take the risk of you running off before I’ve explained what I need from you.”

Tommy was unable to respond, his tongue growing thick in his mouth. He willed his hands to move toward his wife, but found his limbs woefully uncooperative. However, his mind was alive with thoughts of betrayal.

“You might be interested to know I had a little chat with Polly this evening,” Natasha hinted, peeking up at Tommy through the curtain of her hair. "I had a few questions for her, but I'm afraid we didn't get very far," she pouted, tracing her fingers along Tommy’s thigh before pulling away.

“She remained loyal to you to the end. It was truly extraordinary that she would rather give up her son and her own life rather than betray you.” Tommy’s eyes went wild and he made a guttural noise in protest, but Natasha hushed him. Standing to pace toward the fireplace, she continued, “You’ve leaned on her too long, my darling, a crutch that needed to be kicked away. But you needn’t worry, you’ll have me from now on.” She turned to face the fire and Tommy was horrified by her looming shadow, the drugs taking full effect now.

Feeling triumphant in her day’s work, Natasha turned to see Tommy standing on wobbly legs and her face fell. “Tommy, I wouldn’t do that.”

“You’re a monster,” he slurred.

“No, don’t you see? I’m just like you, ambitious and opportunistic. I thought you would be proud of me,” she said, biting her lip. “When Section D assigned me to you, I was thrilled to be by the side of a powerful man I admired, but I knew I could make you more. Won’t you let me help you?”

“Ch-Charlie…” Tommy stuttered. “Where’s my son?” he asked, terrified at the notion of his only child unprotected in London.

“He’s under the care of our best people. I told you I’d take care of everything and I have,” Natasha said, coming to hold Tommy’s arm. He shook her off as best he could and she furrowed her brow with a frown.

“If he’s going to become a distraction to our work, I’ll have to change the orders,” she warned. Tommy’s nostrils flared at the mention of harm to his boy and he lunged for Natasha, hands grappling for her throat.

“Don’t…you…dare,” he managed, throttling her with all his effort. Still in a weakened condition he couldn't hold on and Natasha managed to roll away, scrambling for the gun holster she’d removed from him. As she fumbled for the gun, Tommy pushed onto this knees, heaving for breath. The sound of the safety being released alerted him to danger and his head whipped to the side, taking in the sight of his wife aiming the barrel straight at his head.

“Natasha, no,” he called, attempting to disarm her as a gunshot rang out.

Her face registered shock momentarily before she slumped to the floor, releasing the gun she held and clutching her blood stained chest. Tommy turned to face the direction of the shot and found Arthur standing in the doorway, smoking gun in hand as he watched his sister-in-law draw her last breaths. Tommy could only stare at his wife’s lifeless body, wondering how he had been so blinded by her charms.

“I’m…I’m sorry, Tom,” Arthur finally uttered.

Tommy shuffled to his brother’s side and clapped a hand to his back. “It’s alright, brother,” he whispered.

They stood in silence for a few moments before Tommy felt the adrenaline subside and the rational thought of finding Charlie returned. “Arthur, I need your help getting to Charlie tonight. Call Finn and Isaiah,” he ordered as he gathered his coat.

Arthur pulled him back as he said, “Tommy, wait. I’ve something to tell ya.” He swallowed harshly before admitting, “Charlie’s on the road with Aberama Gold.”

Tommy stopped suddenly, cocking his head at his brother. “What? Why?”

“I didn’t have a good feeling before so I told the lads there’d been a change of plans,” Arthur explained, as he looked down at his shoes. He felt badly at the time disobeying his brother’s orders, but his instincts had been too strong to ignore. Now he was glad of his decision, but worried his brother might still hold the insubordination against him. To Arthur’s great relief Tommy looked grateful when he ventured a glance into his eyes.

“Thank you,” Tommy said quietly as relief washed over him. His son was safely underground and outside the reach of Section D. However, his heart still ached for Polly and he knew he would have to reveal Natasha’s despicable actions.

“Arthur, there’s one more thing and I don’t know how to tell you. Earlier Natasha confessed that she…”

“Did she say she killed, Polly?” Arthur asked stiffly. Tommy nodded. “Well, fuck her. One thing you should know about Natasha is that she’s bloody useless with a gun, Tommy,” Arthur said, a smile creeping onto this face.

Tommy's head shot up, a glint of hope dancing in his blue eyes, “You mean, she’s alright?”

"Ada's got the best doctors looking after her at the hospital. I’ll take you there now," Arthur said, taking Tommy under the arm to support some of his weight. "We should probably have someone take a look at you too. You look like shit,” he added and Tommy huffed out a laugh.

“This business is only going to get worse, Arthur. We have a new enemy,” Tommy warned as he glanced back at Natasha's body.

“Yeah? What else is new?” Arthur replied, helping him to the stairs.

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

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#Peaky Blinders fanfic #Peaky Blinders imagine #Tommy Shelby fanfic #Tommy Shelby imagine #Tommy Shelby #Tommy Shelby x OC #Arthur Shelby #Polly Gray #cillian murphy

296 notes · View notes

runnning-outof-time · 7 months

Note

Hey K. Hope you’re doing fine! 🖤 Prompt for your event: “Then Prove It” with Arthur please. No pressure though, take all the time you I want/need and feel free to ignore it if you doesn’t feel inspired.

Hi there Shark @call-sign-shark ! Thanks so much for sending this prompt in! I hope you like what I’ve done with it! Enjoy! :)

PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!

Part of my 3.5k Celebration — find more stories here!

Should’ve Proved It

Arthur Shelby x Reader

Warnings: language, mentions of drinking, smoking

Word Count: 953

Summary: At the moment where he’s needed most, Arthur freezes.

“Then prove it.”

(Y/N)’s voice cut through the chatter, making the conversation at the table stop. Hell, the way it felt for Arthur, the entire Garrison might as well have been silenced by her three words.

The woman he’d just recently started seeing sat across from him, her expectant eyes locked onto his as she waited. Arthur didn’t know what to say. He was shit at explaining what he was thinking the way it was…he didn’t even want to attempt it with everyone’s eyes on him.

(Y/N) held her breath until she couldn’t anymore, letting it out in a huff as she shook her head. “Fuckin’ men…” she mumbled under her breath, standing from the chair and grabbing her purse so that she could leave. “Always freeze up the moment you need them,” she said before leaving the table, and the pub, without so much as sending a glance in Arthur’s direction.

“Well shit,” Michael said through stifled laughter as he poured himself a drink, a smug grin on his face.

“Fuck, mate. It seems as though you’ve lost your chance with her,” Isiah chimed in, snickering along with his counterpart.

Finn just sat there, trying his hardest to hold the grin back. He knew there’d be consequences for teasing his oldest brother…consequences he ultimately didn’t want to have happen.

“Yeah, well…” Arthur trailed off, his eyes darting around as he played with the cork of the bottle in front of him. He was shrinking into himself, and he absolutely hated the fact that it was all because these two, younger men were ribbing him.

Going even further, the fact that this was all over a woman made him feel like he was being eaten alive.

Pull yourself together, soldier, he mentally barked an order at himself before he stood from his seat and turned to the doors, grumbling all the way there about how Tommy was so busy and how he’d been left to drink with the children.

Why did I even fuckin’ invite her? he wondered to himself as he exited the establishment. If he hadn’t, he certainly wouldn’t have been put in this mess. It all started after Michael and Isiah noticed the change in him the moment (Y/N) arrived at the pub. And then the snickering started when she sat down across from him, and he subsequently forgot how to speak in sentences.

It reached the boiling point when the guys started outright teasing Arthur, saying that he’d once again gotten whipped by a woman; to the point where he couldn’t even speak.

So Arthur did one of the things he does best: speak for himself without thinking. And what he said messed everything up. It immediately resulted in a deadpan stare that accompanied the three word sentence (Y/N) posed moments ago.

He was thankful that he found her alongside the building. She was leaned up against the brick, in the middle of taking a drag from her cigarette. She glanced over in his direction as he approached her. Upon seeing who was walking her way, she cursed under her breath and quickly tried to look away. But Arthur was already locked on his target.

“I was hopin’ you hadn’t gotten too far,” he said as he stopped beside her.

“I wasn’t actually going to walk home,” she admitted begrudgingly, her eyes fixated on the gravel road. Why did you just tell him that?!, she screamed at herself.

“Come back inside,” he tried then, gingerly waving his hand.

“I can’t, Arthur,” she shook her head.

“Why not?”

“Because you’ve made a fool out of me in there,” she was quick to answer his obliviously asked question, finally looking at him then. Arthur winced at the hurt that was present in her eyes. “You’ve made a complete mockery of our relationship by saying nothing.”

“They were just teasin’, love,” he tried to do some damage control.

“You still should have said something,” she didn’t buy his excuses.

“And what was I to say?” he asked with furrowed brows.

“Maybe something other than ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about’?” she suggested with raised eyebrows, “maybe you could have told them something along the lines of the things you tell me when we’re together? Like when you told me that you couldn’t imagine us being apart, or when you said that there was no one better for you than me? Were those true? Or were they just things you said to try to get me into your bed?” the hurt she was feeling was clear in her words by the end of her questioning.

“They weren’t,” Arthur insisted, shaking his head as he spoke, “I didn’t just say ‘em.”

“Then prove it,” (Y/N) repeated the same three words she’d said inside, “go back inside and tell them…tell them the things you tell me,” her demands were spoken softly but with a steady voice, and she ended by pointing in the direction of the pub’s doors.

Arthur froze up at her directions. “I…” the words died right there in his throat.

Much like inside the Garrison, (Y/N) held her breath until she couldn’t anymore. She let it out in a long exhale, hoping lessen the hurt she was feeling inside at that moment. It didn’t do a damn thing.

“I’m leaving,” she finally broke the silence, speaking in a dismissive tone. She took one last look at Arthur, not missing the utter devastation in his eyes, before she turned and began walking in the direction of her home.

It was simple in her mind now: if Arthur loved her like he told her he did, he should have went and proved it.

Tagged: @the-anxious-youth @mystcldydrms @look-at-the-soul @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @lilyrachelcassidy @shelbydelrey @theshelbyslimited @peakyswritings @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry @stevie75 @dark-academia-slut @zablife @cillmequick @letal-y-poetica @depxiety @shelundeadxxxx @areyenotfondofmelobster @padfootdaredmetoo @crabat-the-queen @sebastianstangirl01 @everythingelseisextra @kmc1989 @papichulo120627 @brummiereader @adaydreamaway08 @kissforvoid @raincoffeeandfandoms @peakyltd @johannelis2302nely @just-a-blackhole @anotherblinder @christinasyellowflowers @insanitybyanothername @daisyblinder @wotcherpeak @call-sign-shark

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coltermorning · 6 months

Text

Of Love and Loss Ch. 7 (RDR2 Fanfic, Arthur Morgan x F!Reader, 18+)

Summary: Overwhelmed by a nightmare, you finally feel something other than emptiness, but turning it on Arthur has consequences.

Author’s Notes: Chapter seven of this one. More notes at the end.

Tags: Arthur Morgan x reader, high honor Arthur Morgan, minor character death, loss of parents, blood and injury, grief/mourning, survivor guilt, strangers to lovers, slow burn, eventual smut, graphic depictions of violence

AO3 Link

Of Love and Loss

Seven: The Sweet Burn of Anger

Word count: 2835

Your parents stood over your shared bed, so large that you were terrified. They were giants, nothing like the love you knew. And when your mother swiped a hand across the too-big sheet, the bed turned to dark, choppy water. She missed clutching you, but the waves from her movement swallowed you whole. You couldn’t breathe. You were dying, panicking as you went deeper and deeper and were falling, moving fast. Much too fast. Then the ground appeared beneath you. You finally found your voice as you started screaming.

“Hey! What- it’s okay! You’re just dreaming,” you heard. You pulled your head above water and found that you were inside a tent, a lingering scream still on your lips. A real one. You had been screaming in your sleep.

Arthur knelt above you, poised somewhere between concern and weariness. You were shaking in his grip, a cold sweat on your skin, the fear so real that your heart was hammering against your ribcage. It was paralyzing.

“It’s okay,” he said. You could barely comprehend it. “Just a dream.”

He was above you. Just like they had been. You found the will to move and forced yourself from his grasp and rose, so quick that he couldn’t even protest before you were outside, ankle deep in snow. Right. It had stopped you the evening before, coming down so thick that travel was useless. The first snow of the year.

You stopped and looked to your feet. Grounded. Something about all that coldness packed against your boots was grounding. You stayed there and relished in it, not caring that it burned with cold.

“You okay?” you heard. You didn’t turn to look at the man. Your mind was still reeling too fast to respond.

You rarely dreamt. And screaming someone else awake because of some sick thing your mind had twisted together had you burning hot with embarrassment.

“Hey.” A hand landed on your shoulder and you shrugged it off, not able to face him. “You should get back to the tent. It’s too cold out here.” When you didn’t answer, he sighed. “I’ll build a fire.”

You listened to his retreating footsteps in the snow. Good. You let out a long breath, watching it fog the air with warmth between the still-falling snow. It really was terribly cold. So cold you knew you would need to get more layers from somewhere. You were usually better prepared, having lived in one of the coldest places on earth, but you’d lost everything miles behind you. Everything.

You had been so distracted with Arthur’s new reputation and that harrowing interaction with the two strangers that you hadn’t been thinking about what had happened to you. You’d thought it was a brief lapse of relief. Now you were realizing it was denial. A refusal to think of what you needed to be thinking of. Because if you didn’t…well. Your mind had proved what happened when you didn’t. You had woken up screaming for the first time in your life. Actually screaming. That poor man hadn’t agreed to this part when he chose to take you all this way.

You fell to your knees, the cold biting through your pants. You didn’t care. You let it.

After long enough that everything had gone numb, you heard the cracking of firewood. Then, “Get over here, nameless. Come eat something.”

You didn’t move. Couldn’t. But that word—nameless…it stirred something within you.

“Don’t make me make you. I will drag you over here if I have to.”

Sure he really would, you stood, brushing the snow off your pants. “I’m not nameless.” Your voice was hoarse. Whether from screaming or the cold you weren’t sure.

“You don’t give me your name and you are. Now come eat. It’ll warm you up.”

Reluctantly, you obliged. Your body was coasting, taking you through the motions. Trying its best to keep you upright when you were a mess of fear and sadness and embarrassment.

You could feel the man’s eyes on you as you knelt as close to the fire as you could without burning in it. You ignored him.

“Here,” he offered, handing you a cut of meat. You hesitated a moment before taking it, your mind keeping you a few seconds behind. It was still reeling with that dream, how real it felt to fall. You tried your best not to dwell on it as you took a bite, nearly having to remember how to chew.

“Hell of a dream, making you scream like that,” he said.

You met his eye then, gnawing off another bite like a starved dog. He had some kind of nerve. He was like that though—so nosy that he didn’t care if it got him into trouble or not. Really, you wouldn’t normally mind telling him about it, no trouble suffered. But this was…

You looked back to the fire, focusing on the meat you ate, the heat burning against you, anything but that dark water. Drowning and falling and dying all at once.

“Just sayin’,” he went on, about to speak again. Only something about him pushing, something about that dream, something about his new name for you and how much it got under your skin, it all collided together. Before he could get another word in, you felt anger begin to bubble up within you, hotter than the flames at your front.

“Don’t.” You leveled him with as cutting a glare as you could, needing to get your point across. He looked…surprised. Or maybe amused. It only made you angrier.

“I don’t want to talk. How hard is that to understand?”

To your disappointment, he didn’t look offended by this. He stood, the jab bouncing off of him as a carelessness entered his voice. “Fine then. I’ll just let you freeze out here next time, shall I?”

“Fine,” you shot back, going back to eating, making a point not to look at him.

To your annoyance, he chuckled low, turning to go back to the tent.

“All right then, nameless.”

That was it. You rose, gaining on him so fast he spun around to meet you, not quick enough to block your hands meeting his chest and shoving him. He stumbled back a step, but that infuriating smile never left his face.

“Awe, what’s the matter? I touch a nerve?”

You were shoving him again by the time he caught your hands.

“Quit calling me that,” you spat, tearing your wrists away from his grip. “And learn how to keep your damn mouth shut.” You shoved him again on the curse, making him laugh harder. He didn’t budge this time, infuriatingly strong.

“You’re gonna have to try harder than that, sweetheart.”

You were wrong about the nickname. Nameless made you angry, but sweetheart made you see red. It was so much worse.

You flew at him then, all hands and arms and gritted teeth. He stumbled again but kept his feet, not doing a thing to fight back, that smile never leaving. Every hit landed that he didn’t flinch away from made you madder and madder until you finally slapped him across the face. Hard.

You stepped back when he hesitated, thinking you had finally done something to warrant a reaction. You weren’t sure if you wanted him to hit you back, to storm off, what. You just had to get this anger out of you, the sting of it like poison inside your gut.

When he met your eye with a fire in his own, you had half a second to regret slapping an outlaw before he was on you. He knocked you back and pinned you to the ground before you could so much as react. The burn in your side flared when the snow met your back, but you didn’t care. You were too worried about his sudden aggression. That is, until the nearby fire flared across the man’s face, revealing not a grimace but a smile.

“Like I said,” he taunted. “Gonna have to try harder than that.”

“Get off me,” you spat, starting to squirm to get loose. It was no use—his hands had your wrists, his knees pinning your legs down.

“Make me,” he said. “I doubt you can. Matter fact, this may be a good lesson for you. Make sure you can win a fight before you start one.”

“I don’t want to win,” you said, exasperated. Couldn’t he see that? You wanted your anger out. Yet it, your fear, your grief, they were all swallowing you whole.

“That so? Just wanna hit me, huh?” he asked, still stubbornly unwavering in his grip. “All right then, hit me.”

He let your hands go, sitting up. Before you could think not to, you swung at him. He blocked your hand with ease.

“Never said I would make it easy on you.”

You roared you frustration and sat up, making him back away when your hand went for his face a second time. He blocked it again. And again.

“Try at least,” he urged.

“I am!” you screamed, gaining on him as he kept backing away.

“Try harder.”

His smirk made you snap. As he was still on his knees, slightly unbalanced in the snow, you let your anger take over and leapt. He went crashing to the ground with you on top of him, and before he could shove you off, you scooped a handful of snow into your glove and slammed it against the side of his head. He recoiled from the blow then rolled over quicker than you could get away.

“Playin’ dirty are you?” he grimaced, pinning you beneath him again. Only this time, he reached for the snow and threw it all over you. It was blazing cold, so cold you sucked in a breath.

He went to do it again, and you finally found your strength—you were quicker than him. You leaned up, and when he made to pin your shoulders back down, you slipped your knee out from under his leg and thrust it upward, the hit landing right between his legs. He cried out in pain at the impact. You rolled out from under him and stood, watching him coil in on himself. You felt guilty then. Finally, something other than anger. And with that thought, the anger began to slowly thaw back into the emptiness you had grown so familiar with until you were walking away, leaving him wallowing there so as not to feel the need to go apologize. He didn’t deserve it anyway.

He was an idiot. A right idiot, picking a fight with you. He knew better. He had just been relieved, finally seeing some kind of reaction out of you other than sadness. It had been why he pushed in the first place, asking about whatever had made you wake up screaming like that. He thought you’d been making progress. He’d thought wrong. He had really been wrong trying to fuel your anger. Lying in the hard snow with enough pain to last him a damn month, he saw that now.

Arthur rolled onto his back, looking up at the stars and the snow and letting out a long breath. He probably owed you an apology. He had forgotten, for a careless moment, that you weren’t just some other camp member. He wouldn’t have done that to any other stranger he hardly knew, so why had he done it to you? To someone so wrapped up in grief you couldn’t even function? Shame pooled within him at the thought.

“You moron,” Arthur whispered to himself. Anger never lead to anything but trouble. He knew that.

With most of the pain finally subsided, he pushed onto his feet, glad for his bulky coat. It had kept the cut of the cold out. He walked over to where his hat had fallen, brushing the snow off on his pants before landing it back on his head. It was still throbbing from that hit you landed on his ear. He would have to keep that in mind if he ever had a mind to fight you again. As easy as it would have been to win, he had only been kidding around. You had been going for blood like some cornered animal. The slight ring in his ear proved that.

Arthur spotted your boot prints in the snow and headed for them. As much as you probably didn’t want to see him, he had to make sure you didn’t run off for good.

To his surprise, you had stopped close by, leaning against a tree and watching the snow. Your arms were crossed, and by the way you didn’t turn when you heard his approach, he got the message loud and clear. His presence wasn’t needed or wanted.

He almost didn’t say anything, just glad you hadn’t gotten mad enough to leave. But he owed you an apology. A big one. “Hey,” he said, coming to stand beside you. “I didn’t mean to…I don’t know what got into me. I’m sorry I did that.”

You didn’t answer, still turned away, and he shifted uncomfortably on his feet. He wasn’t used to people being so quiet around him. Normally, he craved a single moment’s peace. Now it felt like punishment.

“I shouldn’t treat you like I do the others,” he went on. “I just forget sometimes that you’re…” He was blanking on what to say that wouldn’t offend you, but you cut in before he could finish.

“No, it’s actually…kind of nice.”

That was the last thing he expected. “Huh?”

“Treating me like I’m normal,” you said quietly, still not looking at him. “Everyone else tip toed around me, would hardly say a word. I get why but it’s…it’s just nice to be treated like a human being. You’re the only one who does.”

He didn’t know what to say to that. Especially since picking a fight wasn’t quite considered normal behavior. Certainly not polite behavior.

You went on without meeting his eye. “I’m sorry I…I shouldn’t have let all that out on you.” You let out a shallow sigh. “You just made it damn easy to.”

He held in a laugh. He was pretty good at that. In fact, fights normally seemed to find him by regular circumstance. Nothing he wasn’t used to. “That I did,” he said, turning to join you in watching the weather.

It occurred to him why all this had come up in the first place, remembering that splitting scream you let out. He would let it slide for now. But he would do everything in his power to distract you from that kind of grief. He had felt it before and knew how heavy it was. So he spoke. “Guess nameless is off the table then?”

You shook your head, your gaze falling to your boots. If it weren’t so dark, he would be willing to bet you wore a smile.

“Anything’s better than sweetheart. Don’t ever call me that again.”

He chuckled, turning away so you couldn’t see the sudden heat on his face. He began walking back to the tent, for some reason feeling a little boyish as he said, “Nameless it is.”

You didn’t reply. Instead, after a moment, he felt something small and compact collide with his back, sending snow flying. He stopped dead. He couldn’t very well let that slide.

He already had snow in his hand as he rounded. “You’re on woman.”

The two of you were back in the tent after a snow fight long enough to leave you winded. It was fun if not exhausting. Maybe enough for you not to dream again.

Your emotions were all over the place today, that was undeniable. You hadn’t felt anything apart from emptiness in a long time until now. But as you laid there listening to Arthur’s steady breathing, the man asleep before he could even shed his snow-soaked coat, you knew you had been wrong before. It wasn’t denial making you forget your parents enough to wake up screaming. It was distraction. You hadn’t felt as giddy as you were throwing snow at Arthur since before your parents had even mentioned a trip. Distraction was a good thing. It was foreign and strange, but it was good. Any lapse in what you normally felt was a good thing, no matter if the memories returned in dreams or not.

You laid there in your thin bedroll, glad for the quiet the snow provided, wondering if this was what healing looked like. It was an ugly thing but a necessary one. When you had ever come far enough to see that, you weren’t sure. So very different from the girl who stubbornly refused this trip at all. You smiled at the thought. Your parents would be proud. It was the first time truly feeling that, believing that, and the peace it brought finally let your exhaustion give way. Slumber followed soon after.

_________

End Notes: Oooo he likes herrr 🥰🥰🥰

Chapter eight is here.

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#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #high honor arthur morgan #rdr2 arthur morgan #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 #fanfic #writing

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