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graveyard-stray · 4 months

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Since you returned || Thomas Shelby x F!Reader

Includes: Angst, PTSD, mentions of war, violence, and death, mentions of NSFW topics (briefly), swearing and yelling, rejection if you squint, fluff at the end <3

Word count: 2.5k

A/N: I literally JUST started Peaky Blinders and had to write this so if any details are wrong please forgive me!!

NOT PROOFREAD

You and Thomas Shelby had some- history to say the least.

You were practically apart of the Shelby family. Ever since you could walk you were best friends with Arthur, John, Finn, Ada, and of course- Tommy. You were the same age as Ada and grew up next door to the family so you spent lots of time with her, and in turn also her brothers.

You could almost always be found running around the street with the Shelby children, playing stupid games or causing a bit of trouble. The brothers never seemed to really care that you and Ada were girls. I mean sure they would be protective over you with danger or boys, but they didn’t exclude you or limit the activities just cause of your gender- and for this time period, that meant a lot.

Tommy in particular, you had always taken an interest in. He was quieter than the other brothers, and a bit smarter too. He was calm and calculated but also fun and sweet. You knew you could always go to him if you needed something and he had no problem getting into fights to protect you and Ada.

It was a very prominent memory in your mind, the day you realized your crush on Tommy. It was your 13th birthday and he was the first Shelby to arrive at your home to wish you a happy birthday. Even before Ada, who you could only assume was running around with her little boyfriend. Of course you didn’t mind though.

But it was your birthday and you were home alone as your mother was away at work and your father had been dead for years, and you heard a knock on your door. You got up from the table where you sat eating some breakfast and strode towards the door, upon opening it you see a 16 year old Tommy standing infront of you. He smiled down at you. “I believe I owe you, a Happy Birthday” He said rather smug and sarcastically but in a fun and playful manner.

You couldn’t help the smile that emerged from your face as he pulled you into a quick hug, once he drew away from you, he reached into his jacket and pulled out a small box wrapped with some ribbon, “And a little gift for you, of course.” he held the box out towards you. Your face tinted a bit pink as you looked down “oh Tommy you really didn’t have to get me anything.” You insisted. “Oh but of course I did, your 13 years old today, practically an old woman now!” He joked, causing you to giggle sweetly.

You grabbed the box from his hands and unwrapped the ribbon carefully. Your smile grew wide as you opened the box to see a silver bracelet inside. You weren’t sure if it was real but you’d didn’t care of course. What meant a lot to you was the fact it was silver. Everyone usually gave you things colored gold, but you really didn’t like gold. You were just too nice to say anything. Except once- mentioning it offhandedly. You didn’t think any one heard but…he did. He always heard you when you spoke.

“It’s silver, since I know you don’t like gold all that much.” Tommy mentioned as he observed your reaction to the gift. You smiled widely up at him and quickly wrapped your arms around him in another hug. He smiled and hugged you back.

After he left you realized his kindness. He was always kind to you, he listened when you spoke and sometimes you felt like he knew more about you than Ada. And then you can’t forget he is quite handsome.

From that day on your ever waking thought was consumed by Tommy Shelby.

13 YEARS LATER; 1919

Ever since he had returned from the war, Tommy wasn’t the same. He wasn’t Tommy anymore. Tommy Shelby was long gone. This was Mr. Shelby. The leader of the Peaky Blinders and the toughest man in Birmingham.

The day he came back from France you ran to him, you went to give him a hug and to welcome him home but he stepped away, avoiding your embrace. You were confused and a bit concerned at this reaction, taking note of his glare and the almost blank expression that painted his face. The light behind his eyes you knew so well was gone.

His refusal of your hug was exceptionally odd because- before he left you were quite close more so then usually. You were both in your 20s and it was unspoken but there was definitely a bit of tension there. You weren’t sure if he felt the same about you, but you were undeniably in love with him, more than just a grade school crush.

Now though, he was a completely different man. If you were told he was a different person entirely- not even named Thomas Shelby, just with the same face…you might actually believe it.

The fun gaze he possessed before was replaced by a hard glare. The smile you were so familiar with replaced by a constant blank expression or scowl. You could’ve swore you saw him smoking a cigarette 24/7 (although that wasn’t TOO strange for him) His face was thinner, his eyes baggier, and all around you could see that this was a broken man.

You walked into the Shelby family meeting and took a seat next to Aunt Polly. Arthur looked at you and furrowed his brows, “Uh no, this is a family meeting, You are not a Shelby. Your a (l/n).” He scolded you. But you didn’t move or even seem to acknowledge his words.

“(y/n)!” He snapped, attempting to get you to reply. You turned to him slowly, staying in your seat and taking a long drag from your cigarette. “As far as your concerned I am a Shelby. I helped your sister and aunt run this place while you were off in France, and now here I am getting disrespected and have no say? What happened?” You defended yourself, your tone quite unbothered.

Before Arthur could speak Tommy chimed in, “we came back.” He said, answering your question. Your eyes moved to him, “did you though?” You asked rhetorically. He was going to reply but Polly cut him off and began the meeting.

After the meeting ended you were the last to leave, or at least you thought you were. There you sat, in your chair looking out the window, cigarette between your fingers as you got lost in thought.

You were pulled out of your mind by a rough voice behind you, “What the hell do you think your doing?” Tommy asked angrily. “Smoking.” You replied matter a factly.

He scoffed, “you know damn well that ain’t what I mean. Showing up to family meetings and acting like you are one of us, like your a peaky blinder.” He scolded you.

You got up angrily and faced him. “I am a peaky blinder Thomas. While you were away fighting in that damn war I was here! I was here with Polly and Ada, and we ran this place. We did a bloody good job at it too! I am just as capable as you are!” You defended.

He looked down at you, “it isn’t safe, the people out there are bloody viscous. Your gonna get ripped to shreds!” He said, the scowl on his face never faltering.

“You don’t get to tell me what is and isn’t safe for me, who do you think you are? My keeper? Not in a million years Thomas!” She spat at him, the words seeping into him like venom. He hadn’t heard you call him by his full first name, ever- not that he really thought about it.

He got angry now, although deep down it wasn’t anger, it was sadness. Of course it didn’t come out that way… “ACTUALLY, I CAN TELL YOU WHAT IS AND ISN’T SAFE BECAUSE I AM IN CHARGE AROUND HERE. IF YOU WANT TO BE A PEAKY BLINDER YOUR GONNA LEARN TO FOLLOW ORDERS LIKE A DAMN OBEDIENT WOMAN.” He yelled in your face. You didn’t flinch, just frowned angrily and shook your head.

“Where is Tommy. I want him back.” You said softly? Mostly to yourself. “The hell do you mean? I’m standing right fuckin’ infront of you!” He said, still angry and now a bit confused.

You looked him in the eyes. Those piercing blue eyes that used to hold the world and now, were empty and cold. “The boy who used to care for me, for others. The boy who was kind…who knew my favorite color and cared to say goodmorning and goodnight and wish me a happy birthday every year. The boy who laughed and joked and had fun and had a life! The man who would NEVER speak to me, or any other woman for that matter, like I was some common whore!” You retorted.

He scoffed, “What? You expected me to come back and be the EXACT same man? You have no idea what happened over there! you could think about it realistically- But no! your just a little girl who doesn’t understand how the god damn world works. I mean seriously, PEOPLE DIED. I WATCHED PEOPLE DIE. That changes man! And besides, what’s it matter to you anyway?!” He yelled.

You took his face in your hands roughly, putting on hand on each cheek and forcing him to look you in your eyes as you said this, said the thing you always had wanted to tell him but were always to scared to say. “IT MATTERS BECAUSE I LOVED TOMMY SHELBY. I LOVED HIM MORE THAN ANYTHING AND NOW ALL I GET IS A MAN WHO IS ANGRY AND COLD AND JUST BLOODY MEAN!” You screamed, trying to suppress the tears that threatened your eyes. Not wanting to seem weak.

He pulled away from your grasp on his face and rolled his eyes “oh, so your upset because I didn’t take you home and sleep with you as soon as I got back? FUCK, you really are a cheap fucking whore!” He yelled, slamming a drawer closed.

“THAT ISN'T THE POINT AT ALL!” You yelled and looked up to blink, so the tears wouldn’t fall. “THE POINT IS THAT I LOVED YOU….” Your tone began to soften and the tears finally fell. “I loved you and, god- Thomas I know your struggling and I know that everything over there was horrible. But you won’t even let me help you. You won’t let anyone! All you do is get angry and mean and bitter and…I know my worth and I don’t deserve this.” You responded finally. Before turning and leaving the room.

As you left Tommy watched you go, the anger in his face now melting away and revealing the sadness. He realized he had made a mistake.

3 days later; 1919

You hadn’t spoken to Tommy in days. You had been entirely avoiding him. Mostly out of anger at how he spoke to you, and partially out of embarrassment and guilt. You knew he was struggling and ended up just screaming at him instead of trying to talk to him- but in your defense he was being rude first. And then you told him you were in love with him which you never even considering doing. It was not the greatest memory right now.

Tommy seemed quite alright, some rough business with other gangs but nothing too out of the ordinary, you knew how business was.

It was around midnight you assumed, you had just gotten out of bed to make some tea since you were unable to sleep. As you waited for the water to heat you heard a knock at the door. You looked suspiciously at it.

You grabbed your gun off the table near the door and held it tight as you looked through the peephole.

A soft sigh left your lips as you saw who it was, Thomas Shelby. You rolled your eyes before putting your gun down and opening the door to see what he could possibly want.

You hadn’t noticed through the peephole but he looked pretty messy. In just his pajamas and a jacket, his hair a mess and his face covered in sweat. You looked concerned, and any annoyance you had at his arrival soon washed away.

“I uh. I had a nightmare.” Tommy started, as he stood nervously in your doorway. “I’ve been having them every night really.” He continued softly. Your gaze softened. “Oh Tommy. Come in.” You moved out the way and let him walk in, he took a seat on your sofa as you closed the door and took the water off the stove- then moved to join him on the couch.

“I’m sorry (y/n). For the other day and showing up here now. All those things I said I- I didnt mean it. Your not a whore. Or a stupid little girl, you’re smart and beautiful and you’ve always been a deal too good for me…and tonight I woke up from my nightmare and I just. I don’t know…You said you wanted to help me, and I was scared of letting anyone help me. But I..love you.” He confessed, the look in his eyes tired and sad, but also that warm familiar look you knew well.

You put your hands on his cheeks softly, a striking 180 from how you held his face the other day, and placed your forhead against his. You could feel his shaky breaths on your face as you just sat there for a moment. “I will help you get through this, all of it. Because I love you too, Tommy.” You said as you sat there, once again getting to feel and smell him there with you, you missed this proximity to him.

Tommy smiled a soft smile as you called him his nickname. He put his hands atop yours, which were still on his face, and leaned in to connect his lips with yours in a quick kiss. It was quick but it was also soft and loving. You both had clearly waited for this for so long and it was worth it. “I missed hearing you call me that.” Tommy admitted. “I always thought my name sounded best coming out of your mouth” he said a bit suggestively. You chucked.

“Why don’t we head upstairs to my room? You can stay here, incase you have another nightmare.” You suggested, smiling softly at him as you pulled away from the closeness to look at him fully. He nodded softly before getting up.

As you got back to your room and crawled into bed and layed on your side facing the wall. He climbed in a moment after you, you could feel the dip in the mattress as he got in and under the covers. After he adjusted for a moment you felt his arm wrap around your waist and his body press against yours, his face burying in your hair. “I hope this is alright, love.” He asks softly.

You smile and grab hold of his hand which is resting on your stomach. “Definitely.” You reply as you both snuggle close and drift off to sleep.

Tommy Shelby didn’t have another nightmare that entire night he spent cuddled up with you in your bed, and sure he had a long way to go but he knew with your help it would be okay.

#peaky blinders #cillian murphy #thomas shelby #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #cillian murphy x reader #x reader #angst #hurt comfort #fluff

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ndoandou · 9 months

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Ikevamp bois playing modern games part 2

Vincent

Vincent is way into.. gartic phone

Qnd perhaps skribble.io

Like way into it

He would sit down 12 hours in front of the computer and guess what HES BEEN PLAYING GARTIC PHONE AND SKRIBBLE.IO IN A LOBBY OF RANDOMS

12 HRS IN HES STILL NOT DONE WITH BOTH GAMES

Hed obv speedrun a drawing in a short period of time and manage to make it look *chefs kiss*

Imagine if skribble.io had a vc feature tho

No no, like imagine if people were actually toxic in this goofy ahh game

They would yell down vincent down the mic telling him to go play with photoshop

Randoms are salty that vincent can draw and portray even the most ridicilous prompts which results him with the highest score always

Not to mention hes really good at guessing even the shittiest drawimgs from other ppl

"Broer how- that persons drawing looks ridicilous, even arthur's dog could draw that"

"Don't be mean theo! I could guess the drawing from the emotional connection i felt from it"

Jean

Jean has a shitty brick nokia phone

And he really loves playing snake II

No im serious

Well i suppose momte doesnt trust him with any other phones than that

the last time he was given a smartphone he downloaded some hack and slash game

took the word slash literally and then proceeded to cut the phone into two

comte was too stunned to speak

momte didn’t want his kids to miss out on gadgets but he cant have jean destroying his smartphone

BINGO! a nokia 3310 it is!

jean didnt know how to react at first, but he found it easier to navigate and thats when he found out baout snake II

found it a bit pointless at first but despite saying that, he doesnt realize that thats the only thing he does besids fencing

snake II is his pre workout

the only thing he will be doing before his fencing practice

before meals

and before bed

‘‘jean are you sure you haven’t had enough of snake II..?’‘ comte asked causiously as he never know how his son Jean would react

jean looked at comte and stayed silent for a hot minute

‘‘no’‘

Napoleon

OK FLASH BACK TO MY E BOY NAPOLEON FANART FROM 2021

its official

He plays league of legends

Napoleon is deffo a jungle/top main

Jungle preferabbly

Bros actually cracked coz hed turn any non meta champs into an absolute beast

I see him being especially good with pantheon jungle

Hed play league with jean tbh

And jean would be a dedicated top

But i dont see jean being the best player..

No, like imagine napoleon defending jean from "top troll" and getting spammed "?" On his lane

Napo would literally go to that persons lane just to steal their minion last hits

If hes feeling extra hed even use pantheons ult to yeet over to that player to ks all the minions on that person's lane 😭

"Jgl troll gg"

Ok napo is actually not toxic and is rly nice to play with

Hed even supp for you if ur learning a new champ

Hes only toxic to people who are toxic to his buddies

Comte

Ill be honest

Comte looks like someone who would download all games from every ad pop up he gets

And im talking about anything gacha related

He does not care whether the game is explicit or not as long as he can collect pretty characters

Is he interested in the gameplay??? Probably not.

"For what reason did you spend $$$$$$ on xxx game???" Leonardo asked as he scrolled through comte's in game billings, cocking an eyebrow

"Hm? Well i simply wanted to collect all of these lovely looking characters."

"Without leveling up your characters?"

"Non"

"Do you understand how to play this game?"

Comte only looked at him with his unwavering smile

"honestly this is the most ridicilous spending ive witness from you, heh" Leo snorted

"Much appreciated, but i dont recal asking for any input, old friend" comte retorted

Leo looked at him and sighed

"Honestly at this point i shouldn't be surprised"

This took me forever to upload because i coulndn't figure what type of game comte would play then one day i was like AHAAAAA

Also i didn't proof read as always so pls dont chop my head off :"))

#ikevamp #ikemen vampire #ikevamp vincent #ikevamp napoleon #ikevamp jean #ikevamp comte #ikevamp leonardo #ikemen series #cybird #ikevamp headcanons

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kiwiana-writes · 4 months

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Hi MJ, it truly makes my day when I happen to open the Tumblr app, and you’re playing the AU fun facts ask game. The folks sending you ideas are brilliant, and in equal measure, so are your responses. It’s all just so much fun, thanks for bringing that energy to my Tumblr dashboard! 💕

If it’s not too late to participate in the game, I had an AU idea come to me early this morning—

Medical/Arthur Lives AU - perhaps a universe where Alex is somehow involved in Arthur’s treatment/recovery, trying very hard (yet failing lol) not to be distracted by his patient's annoyingly handsome son. 👀

This is such a lovely, lovely thing to say, my friend, thank you. I genuinely wasn't expecting people to get quite so into this one but I've had a BLAST churning through these for the last day and a half, so your beautiful message seems like the perfect one to end on.

ONE: Alex spent three years working in hospice before he burnt out—not because of all the death. It was hard, of course, getting attached to patients and then losing them, but making their final weeks more comfortable was a privilege Alex didn't take lightly. What he burned out on was the way some families would spend those last precious few days sniping and dragging up old hurts and yelling at each other over their loved one's literal deathbed.

TWO: Naively, he thought cancer recovery would mean no more bad feelings—that people would be relieved about their second chance and would face their recovery plan with the optimism of reprieve. He's soon disabused of this; almost all his patients have a mix of positive and negative feelings, and some spent so long preparing themselves for their treatment to fail that it throws them off-course when it's successful.

THREE: Arthur Fox is not one of those people. He has, according to his notes, gone through a gruelling chemo/radiation regimen with the unbridled confidence of an upper-class white man who's never been denied anything he wants in his life (okay, that part might not be in his notes; Alex is annotating a little). He simply decided, no matter the prognosis, that he wasn't going to die, and so he didn't. Alex is honestly kind of obsessed with him.

FOUR: He meets Catherine early on, but doesn't get a chance to meet Arthur's children until three and a half weeks into their treatment plan, and Alex is sure he's not imagining the way Arthur spends so much more time introducing Henry to Alex than any of his other kids.

FIVE: Alex has always had a vested interest in his patients getting well and not needing him anymore, but every time he sees Henry during one of his visits to Arthur's home—chatting with him about the novel he's writing, lavishing attention on his dog—Alex has another reason to count down the days until Arthur is free and clear so that Alex can give Henry his number in a decidedly non-professional context.

[Send me a potential AU and I’ll tell you five fun facts that would happen in a story.]

#au five fun facts game #ask meme response #pragmatic-optimist #i've never written an arthur lives au only that arthur-beyond-the-grave one so this was a fun challenge!

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sushisocks · 6 months

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MORE MACSUMMER I BEG

I GOT YOU ANON!!!! Here's an assortment of MORE silly goofy headcanons about my favorite silly goofy couple <3

These bitches are COMPETITIVE!! Anything can be a race or a bet between them, to the detriment of EVERYONE else. A friendly rivalry over who between them can bring in the most for the camp isn't enough, they're also betting on whether or not Sean'll eat that fisheye Pearson just discarded, or whether Lenny can shotgun a can of soup before Sean counts to 20. A lot of their less-destructive dares are food-consumption-related, yes, how did you know?

They’ve almost broken their legs and arms several times over with the racing, though. They’ve been scruffed by Arthur about just as many times.

Yes, Lenny is a morosexual. Yes, being around Sean debuffs his impulse control. Part of the fun is that they’re always egging eachother on!!

Meanwhile Sean’s type is very much ‘down to earth, smart, with a fun streak’ and Lenny checks all the boxes. He likes the push-and-pull Lenny offers, as someone who’s unafraid to call Sean on his BS while also going along on the more lighthearted stuff.

(Granted, ‘lighthearted’ in this context may or may not include robbery and arson!)

The inside jokes are neverending; Sean can, like, hold up a spoon and waggle his eyebrows and that'll mean something that has Lenny in hysterics.

Sean might not be that inclined towards reading for himself, but he LOVES listening to Lenny's voice, and will often ask Lenny to read aloud. It doesn't matter if it's a news article, a children's story, or the driest factual book on the face of the planet; if Lenny is reading it to him, Sean will remember what he hears up until the moment he starts dozing off. If Lenny quits too early, Sean will wake right back up and demand he continues until he starts dozing again.

They’ve been stuck in that loop for hours before, but the clue is to let Sean fall asleep properly before Lenny can rest his voice - he’s a lot more willing to do this when he realizes it’s one of the only surefire ways for Sean to NOT have a nightmare <3

They are SO “We aren’t joined at the hip!!” *is actually joined at the hip* core, to me. Lenny will be like ‘I can go on this job on my own!😤’ and then come back and beeline towards Sean to tell him how it went.

You know that one comic that’s like “I gotta pee” “Ok” and then they walk away hand in hand? Literally. They don’t even realize this is what they’re like!

They’re VERY good at keeping arguments or fights private; the gang only notices because those are the only times they’re not constantly around each other, beyond camp/gang duties. The fights never last long, and are never that serious - they're usually good and back to normal within a day or so.

Their most public fights are the ones they have when they’re drunk, and they only really consist of them fussing over each other. “Did you have any water, Len? I’ll grab you some water.” “Are you cold, Sean? Here, take this blanket” <- They’re both slurring, wobbling, and can’t see straight. The second one of them stands, the other is yelling at them to sit down bcz they’ll break a leg after two steps, so nothing actually gets done or fetched, unless it’s within arms reach (and that's usually more liquor). It’s a whole thing; they’re both of the mind that ‘No! You shouldn’t take care of me, you’re drunk, I’m taking care of YOU!’ and SURPRISE it’s like another competition where they can't let the other win. See Lenny grabbing Sean by the ankle while Sean's trying to drag himself towards the water canteen, and now they're yelling and wrestling in the dirt over it. It’s stupid but entertaining for anyone witnessing them, if nothing else <3

Sean has a tendency to get lost, and Lenny is usually the one who ends up looking for/finding him. Sometimes it’s not even that Sean is lost, just distracted, and Lenny will join him in whatever misadventure he’s found himself on. Other times that distraction means Lenny finding him in like a field 30 minutes from camp, and promptly laughing his ass off bcz Sean is high in a tree after pissing off a bull or smth.

#im just THROWING these out here!!! if yall have like any specific situations or versions of macsummers #that you wanna see me talk abt ur always welcome to ask for that too!!!#or for sean and/or lenny specific stuff. honestly im just honored yall are encouraging my ranting abt them lmao #these were FUN though lolol I hope you enjoy dear anon!!!#sean macguire #lenny summers #macsummers #lenny x sean #sean x lenny #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 headcanons #teki talks #rdr asks #asks #meta asks #ship asks #ship posting

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margowritesthings · 9 months

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Te Beroya: II

SERIES MASTERLIST

pairing: Mandalorian!Arthur Morgan x reader crossover: Star Wars x Red Dead Redemption prompt: 48. “For someone who acts like they hate me, you sure find a way to get me alone a lot.” + 52. “Just because you're pretty, it doesn't mean you can just get away with anything." / "You think I'm pretty?" + 56. “I-I don’t know if I want to yell at you or fuck you.” + 89. “Be careful, sweetheart. Do you really think that's a good idea?” + 90. “You’re playing a dangerous game, girl" word count: 3719 words warnings: sexual innuendos, star wars swears, brief mentions of trauma from readers past authors note: it's here! One last little chapter before I go into full moving mode. Not sure when the next one will be, but Im workin on it!! I love these two crazies, Im not gonna lie. And yes, I went toally ham on that prompt list, but its the best. As always reblogs/likes are appreciated, and if you wanna be tagged in the rest of the series let me know!!

beta read by @cowboydisaster, divider by @saradika

The look shared between you and the 10 foot tall bantha says more than words ever could.

“I am not riding all the way to Mos Espa on a bantha.” You announce, going on instinct to fold your arms in defiance across your chest, before realising your hands are bound. It frustrates you even more and you huff, one more mishap away from stamping your foot like a child.

Arthur seems unphased by your tantrum. Amused, even.

“Well, you got two choices, Princess. You can ride up there with me, or I’m sure Boadicea here will gladly drag you along behind…” You roll your eyes, sighing in great defeat, hating that you’ve lost so much control of this situation so quickly. And of course he’s named the damn bantha.

“Your ‘choices’ suck, you know that? It’s not a choice if one of the options is death or getting dragged across the Dune sea by my broken limbs.”

Maker help him, he laughs, taking that as answer enough and hoisting himself up onto the saddle by the stirrups. You watch on, unimpressed, as he places his helmet back on and it hisses quietly. He extends a hand out to help you up and shuffles back in his seat.

When you figure out how exactly this is going to work, you feel your throat dry up, more so than it already is from 18 hours exposed to the elements of the desert. He wants you in front of him, where your back will surely press up against his chest, literally caging you in with those huge arms to keep his hands on the reins. All that contact…

“No way. We’re not gonna both fit on there.” You shake your head, taking a step backwards. Arthur doesn’t flinch, knowing if you ran now you’d be dead in days, especially with those cuffs on.

“You shoulda’ thought about that before you tried to knock me out and run away, little mouse.”

Anxiety bounces around your frame at the idea. Ever since that night, the one that changed everything, you hate being touched by others, especially in such close proximity. But what choice do you have? It’s getting hot, and you’re not sure you’d survive a trek across the desert on your feet… Plus, possibly more terrifying than death by sand, he was just touching you everywhere, during your fight. And somehow, you didn’t hate it. It wasn’t like every other time you’ve been touched… The feel of his hard body covering the length of you, his bulge prodding firmly against your thigh as he pinned your wrists down deep into the sand…

You’re getting distracted.

“Urgh. Fine. But don’t get any ideas, beroya.” You lift your wrists, letting him grab your hands to help you mount Boadicea. When you swing your leg around, it settles you into the saddle, up close and personal with your captor. His hard chest presses firmly against your back, thighs around yours and crotch in serious danger of grinding up against your ass with each step the bantha makes. You think back to the fight, expecting to regret it, but instead find yourself trying awfully hard not to think about how thrilling it was to have a big, bad bounty hunter on top of you like that…

Maker, what has gotten into you?!

Well… nothing. Maybe that’s the problem… you swore yourself away from all of that after you were shown just how cruel the Galaxy can be, all too focused on the plight of survival once you became such a high value target. But now… well, it’s clearly messing with your head, because there is no way in hell you should be thinking about the hard-on of the man destined to be your end… You make a mental note to get laid once this is over… If this is over.

When Arthur clicks the reins and Boadicea the bantha starts to walk, you clamp your jaw shut and your breaths come out as sighs, in an attempt to show him just how furious you are at this turn of events. The grinding of your teeth is all part of the act, you tell yourself, and not at all a method of distracting yourself from the ripple of muscle you feel pressed flush against your back. You can feel him breathe, could swear you can feel a soft thrum of his heart as the scent of campfires and cigarettes infiltrates your senses. He’s all consuming, in the most infuriating ways, shuffling logic right out of your mind.

There’s a tension in the tiny gap between you, one that spikes every time Boadicea moves in a way that presses your ass further up against Arthur’s crotch and you’re sure his breath hitches at each point of contact.

“So-” He starts, his voice sounding almost strangled, “How’s a pretty little thing like you end up on the Outer Rim’s Most Wanted list?”

Ah, perfect. Small talk about life’s greatest traumas to distract you from the fact you now know your captor has the biggest dick in the Galaxy. Unlucky for Arthur, you’re not exactly in a sharing mood, so deflection it is.

“Sorry, beroya, the tragic backstory package is locked behind a level of friendship unattainable to the likes of you.” As an added effect, you move your wrists around so the metal of the cuffs clinks against your belt. A reminder of the situation, if you will.

“Aw, shucks, and here I was thinkin’ you liked me.” He’s all bravado, slapping his thigh comically. You don’t laugh. “Well, just so you know…” He leans closer, and his breath tickles the back of your ear sending a shiver all the way down your spine, “I don’t like you either, princess.”

Now that does draw a smirk from you. Ugly words are one thing, but biology doesn’t lie, and Arthur’s is screaming the very opposite. You adjust yourself in the saddle again, feeling that very compelling evidence to the contrary rubbing against your flesh.

“Coulda’ fooled me, cowboy.”

Being situated in front of him, you don’t see Arthur’s hand coming, don’t realise whats happening until gloved fingers wrap around your neck, thumb and forefinger pressing firmly against the pulse points on your throat. You gasp just in time to capture just enough breath for the Mandalorian to trap in your lungs. He’s so close you feel the cool metal of his helmet against your skin, the way he’s holding you forcing you to crane your neck back into him.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, pretty girl. Be careful, mesh’la. Do you really think that’s a good idea?” His warning is growled into your ear, slightly gravelly through the helmet, and you swear you’ve never felt a heat burn so fiercely everywhere. Fuck, the way he’s holding you is possessive, wanting… It ignites a very dangerous flame you’d rather not address, but the way you squirm, that little whimper that escapes your parted lips, says everything that you’d never admit aloud.

You couldn’t even if you wanted to, especially when he squeezes just that bit tighter and you feel your heart beating in your flushed cheeks. A witty retort would be just in character, but words fail you as your binded hands attempt to scratch uselessly through the leather of his thick gloves. Boadicea continues her trek, unaware that you’re all but soaking the poor girls saddle through.

“Just cause you’re pretty, doesn’t mean you can get away with just anything. Not with me, sweetheart.” You hear every rasp in his voice, the years he’s lived and fought branding it like scars. When he relinquishes the pressure, just a little, the blood rushes back into your face and you know it’s your turn to talk. He’s expecting obedience, and you’ll be damned if you comply, even if he holds your lifeforce between his thumb and forefinger.

“You… You think I’m pretty? Gee, Arthur, I don’t think you’re supposed to-” He doesn’t let you finish, the frustration at you manifesting into another soul quaking growl as he squeezes harder.

“Do you really think that behaving like that is going to get you want you want, you little brat?”

…Kriff. You’ve been labelled as difficult before, but never in a way that leaves you panting like this. Fuck, this is not how it’s supposed to go. He’s going to have you killed, and yet your panties are soaking through. You’re losing the last scraps of power you once clung to so vehemently… but Maker does it feel good…

“Listen here, Princess. I ain’t blind, alright? You’re a pretty girl. But I ain’t stupid, either. Half the time I can’t tell if I wanna kill you or fuck you, but that don’t mean shit, cause ever since I got those binders on you, you’ve been mine, alright? So shut that pretty little mouth of yours before I shut it for you. Now, are you gonna behave for me? Or am I gonna have to force you?”

The defiance that blazed in your eyes dies there, your mouth opening and closing pathetically as you fail to find something to say. All you can do is nod, the small movements he’ll allow of you, at least.

“Good girl.”

You gasp out for the dry air of the desert, and it feels like being washed under a stream after the longest drought. Your fingers rub over the reddened skin of your neck, easing the ache just slightly.

Arthur grabs the reins again, smacking them lightly to speed Boadicea up.

You say nothing, trying desperately to extinguish whatever the hell is happening between your legs.

Half the time I can’t tell if I wanna kill you or fuck you.

I can’t tell if I wanna kill you or fuck you.

…kill you or fuck you

The words swim around your mind for the next few hours of the silent, torturous ride. The desert air is hot, but you’d rather marry a wookie than ask for the water your throat is crying out for. The tension between you and Arthur hasn’t dwindled for a second, and you’re putting more blame on that than the suns beating down on you relentlessly for your flustered state. The only relief you get is from knowing its just as hard for Arthur… literally. Knowing he’s just as uncomfortable, all thanks to you, is all the consolation you need.

The skies are starting to cast an orange glow across your skin as the suns both begin to reach the horizon. You’re not too far out from Mos Espa now, but Boadicea is slowing significantly, and you can tell she��s ready for a break, so it doesn’t surprise you when Arthur swings his thigh from around you to dismount. He leaves you sitting there for a moment while he pulls off his helmet, hanging it next to the saddlebag that he pulls an oat cake out of for Boadicea .

“There, there, good girl…” he coos to her, patting her thick fur. His words of praise bring you right back to when he said that to you, and it infuriates and arouses you in equal amounts to remember the moment. You hate yourself for it. It’s a vicious cycle that leaves you dizzy.

Eventually, after petting the only woman you’re sure Arthur Morgan will ever love, he returns to you, holding out a hand to help you down,

“M’lady.” He nods sarcastically and you roll your eyes, making a point to slide off the saddle without his help, landing less than gracefully and taking a second to steady yourself. Arthur shakes his head as he watches you, before turning back to the saddle bag and pulling out a variety of things you’ll need to camp.

“We’re stopping here?” You ask, voice a little hoarse from the dehydration and protestful lack of speech. Looking around, you can’t see anything but sand. You’re less than enthusiastic about a night here, alone with him, but you’re not exactly the one making the decisions here.

“Well, unfortunately for us, your highness, the palace was booked full, and we’re in the middle of the Dune Sea.” He explains while he starts to unroll the singular bedroll. You sit down in the sand, crossing your legs beneath you with a childish pout on your lips. Oh, how you wish you could get these damn binders off. They’re so uncomfortable, and it’s been hours.

Arthur gathers enough dry wood from around the area to build a decent fire, dusting the sand away and setting them up like he’s done this a thousand times over. You know the feeling, so long ago forced out from your home and set on the run for the remainder of this lonely life. It makes you wonder if Arthur has a home of his own, a family. Watching him as intently as you are, seeing those tired eyes… somehow you know he doesn’t. Maybe once, maybe in a different life… but you know the look of loneliness well, you see her every time you come face to face with a mirror, and he embodies it. As sad as it is, it makes sense. A loving family man just wouldn’t be cut out for this kind of life.

There’s only one sun left now, the skies above a stunning gradient from orange to purple, all the way to the inky blues on the other side of the horizon. It takes Arthur no time at all to have the fire going, positioning his bedroll out next to it. He gestures for you to sit on it, but you’re stubbornly deciding the sand a few feet away would be better. Arthur snorts,

“Suit yourself.”

He returns one last time to the saddle bag, pulling out some cans, a flask, and a pouch of something wrapped in cloth. By the time he sits beside the fire, it’s roaring

“Hungry?” He asks, extending an arm to offer you the flask. A hesitation, while you decide if you’d rather kill your pride or die of hunger and thirst. It’s a tough choice, but you eventually nod and take the flask in both hands. It takes you a second to figure out how to open it with bound hands, and Arthur seems to take great joy in your attempts, until you manage to squish the flask between your knees and twist the cap off. It takes a lot of restraint to not gulp the whole thing down when that first drop hits your tongue, but both of you still have a ways to go before your destination, so you don’t. The pass back is reluctant, as is the tiny ‘thank you’ you mutter under your breath.

“Oh, look at you, princess, finding your manners.” He takes a sip of his own, starting to unwrap the little parcel to reveal some slices of meat and pulling a knife from his holster to crack the tins open. Part of you wants to prove his point, to growl at him and fight back, but you’re pretty damn hungry, so you stay quiet, silently plotting another escape.

As Arthur starts to work on the food, pouring beans into a little metal pot, he glances at you, finding amusement in your tantrum.

“You gonna come join me for some food or keep sulkin’? Either way’s fine by me, I’ll have your extras if you don’t want ‘em.” It doesn’t take very long at all for the beans to cook when he holds them over the flame, the aroma reaching your nostrils soon enough. Even for just beans, it smells good, probably cause you haven’t eaten since back in the Cantina, which feels like 3 lifetimes ago right now. Your stomach grumbles pointedly, and you’re forced to swallow your pride and gracefully stand, stomping sand everywhere as you sit right on the edge of the bedroll, as far away from Arthur (by mere inches) as possible.

He raises a taunting brow, “For someone who acts like they hate me, you sure do find ways to get real close to me.” Line thrown, hook absolutely smothered in bait.

The fury in your eyes gives the campfire a run for its credits, “Well if that isn’t the Quacta calling the Stifling slimy- you’ve been all over me since the Cantina, rubbing your cock against my ass for the last day!”

You know the victory is Arthur’s with the way he smirks at your outburst, like winding you up is his favourite pastime. He’s holding back a laugh, you can tell because his crows feet crease deeper and his lip twitches. Hook, line and sinker.

There’s a pause, surely being spent figuring out how else to annoy you, before Arthur picks up a slice of the jerky he brought and offers it to you, “...Want some meat?”

… You’re going to kill him in his sleep.

Too hungry to refuse, you snatch it off him and take an aggressive bite, the eye contact you’re shooting lasers with never breaking. Maybe it’s the hunger talking, but it tastes so good you almost moan. Almost, though your furious facade might have broken for just a moment. He’s waiting for gratitude, but you have other ideas.

“I’m not fucking you.” You announce, so out of the blue that Arthur almost chokes on his meat. Now that’d be a sight to see…

“You said you didn’t know whether to kill me or fuck me,” You explain, I’m just telling you ya’ ain’t got chance of either.”

The offended guffaw you’re after never comes, in its place a look so intense you feel flames lick at your toes and travel up between your thighs.

“Listen, mesh’la,” He growls the sarcastic term of endearment, and you vibrate, “Just cause I can’t decide if that pretty throat of yours deserves my blade or my cock doesn’t mean you’re getting either. I’ll have you, but only if you’re on your hands and knees begging me for it. I’ve got your fiery little temper worked out, and I know just what fuels it. Don’t worry, little one, you’re safe… for now.”

Dank farrick, how does he do it? Every attempt to rile him thwarted, leaving you flustered, wet, and with your jaw so slack you could catch flies. Maybe silence is the best option, to give him none of your words to twist and pull into whatever this tension between you is.

You’re not going to fuck him.

He’s literally holding you prisoner.

You’re not going to fuck him.

He’s bringing you back to them.

You’re not going to-

“Y’alright there, princess? Keep lookin’ at me like that and I’ll think you’ve changed your mind.”

“You’re infuriating.” You spit back, finishing the last of your jerky with another angry bite.

“And here was me thinkin’ we were becoming friends…”

“What?! No. Nu-uh. No way.”

“Well I ain’t leaving you to run off on me. I’m not an idiot.”

“That’s up for debate…” you mumble, just loud enough for him to decipher your words. You’re not helping your case, Arthur holding his hands out expectantly as he awaits your compliance.

“Arthur,” you start, realising you’ve never actually said his name out loud before, liking the way it feels forming on your tongue, hating that fact. “Neither of us are gonna sleep a wink if I’m strapped to you.”

He has little other choice. You know that, knowing there’s no way he’d trust you to not stab him in his sleep and run away. Smart guy, considering you’d already considered that very plan extensively. But no, he had to be difficult. He’s already stashed his knife with Boadicea, who is laid too far away to reach.

“Hindsight is clear as day, Princess. Maybe next time don’t try to run.” Pfft. Next time. There won’t be a next time, thanks to him.

Running out of patience, Arthur takes a step towards you, and you take one step backwards. He reaches for the binders and you lift them away. It’s a dance, one he quickly tires of and grips onto your forearm before you can move it.

His touch burns your skin, even through the gloves, and the fight leaves your body near instantly. His grip is firm, bruising, almost, and that devilish part of you enjoys it.

Would being chained to him for a night really be so bad…?

“Fine. Whatever. But keep your hands to yourself, mando. And you better not snore.”

“Of course, of course… wouldn’t wanna interrupt that beauty sleep, now, would I?” He sarcastically huffs, wrapping rope around the middle part of your binders that keeps your wrists together. Watching him twist and turn the rope around his huge hands does something to you, and you start to wonder if this man can do absolutely anything that won’t turn you on somehow. You’ve gotta knock this off, it’s getting dangerous, especially considering you’re about to share a bedroll tied to him.

His rope isn’t the longest, giving only a few feet of space between the two of you as he loops it through his belt and around his own arm, knotted so intricately it would be impossible to untie without waking him up. An expert in rope tying… of course he is.

Pushing thoughts of other uses for that skill of his far, far away, you watch your escape plan fall apart before your eyes, every detail somehow preemptively thwarted by Arthur’s actions as if he could read your mind. Maker, you hope he can’t, they’ve been pretty much in bed with him since he bought you that drink back in the Cantina.

Arthur sits down in the sand, the rope tugging at you to do the same. Notably, he leaves the bedroll for you, situating himself on the ground as far away as the rope will allow. And they said chivalry is dead…

“So we just… sleep? Here?” Your brows are pulled together, a sure sign of how displeased you are at this whole situation.

“Well I could read ya’ a bedtime story, but some say I don’t get the voices quite right…” By the time you go to glare at him, he’s already laying in the sand, gazing up at the sea of stars. You sigh, taking that as answer enough.

Silence, just for a moment.

“G’night, princess…”

“...Goodnight, beroya.”

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #rdr2 #arthur morgan imagine #arthur morgan rdr2 #arthur morgan x y/n #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan fanfiction #arthur morgan fanfic #star wars #tha mandalorian #crossover #star wars crossover #star wars fanfic #star wars fanfiction

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neufhistoires · 2 months

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Loveless Marriage (FrUK) Chapter 14

“You… You what..?”

Arthur struggled to even get the words out, his eyes wide in shock and horror. Suddenly, Francis looked equally horrified even though he was the one who said it.

Despite the look on his face, the words, “You heard me,” still came out of Francis’s mouth.

For a moment, all Arthur could do was stare at the other man, never breaking eye contact with him even though he was so lost in his thoughts that he had already mentally left. Eventually, the silence became too much to bear. Francis’s lips parted as he went to speak again, but suddenly, the Englishman turned his back. He was walking away.

Francis wanted to call after him, but that would’ve been embarrassing and he was already embarrassed enough as it was…

But how was Arthur going to get home? He’d left Francis alone in the passenger side of his car, but then he abruptly started walking in the opposite direction. Was what the Frenchman said really so bad that the Englishman was willing to abandon his own car?

Angry, Francis got out of the car and started walking fast in the opposite direction of Arthur. The Frenchman went around the side of the courthouse and leaned on the wall in the shade, glancing across the parking lot to see what Arthur was going to do. To Francis’s dismay, when Arthur noticed that the Frenchman was no longer in the vehicle, he walked back over to it and drove away. From what Francis could see, Arthur hadn’t even looked around to see where he was at. He just left.

Francis waited for a half an hour or so, hopeful that Arthur had just gotten upset for a moment, that he wouldn’t really just abandon him, but… He never came back.

Eventually, the courthouse was closing and the worker that had been helping the two of them with their divorce came out of the building. Embarrassed, Francis hid from her. Since when was he chasing after another person, letting them belittle him this way? People were supposed to chase after him!

The Frenchman didn’t really have enough money to call a cab, so he awkwardly pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialed Feliciano’s number. His co-worker might’ve been a bit of an airhead, but at least he was reliable. He immediately agreed to pick him up at the courthouse.

A few minutes later, a vehicle pulled into the parking lot. It was then that Francis realized he had no idea what sort of car Feliciano even drove. It seemed like there were always different cars parked in the parking lot at their work. On second thought, sometimes there were no cars parked there at all…

Francis couldn’t quite see from where he was standing, so he walked over to the vehicle to see if it was Feliciano.

Suddenly, when Francis had almost reached the vehicle, the driver beeped at him and startled him. An angry looking man with slicked back, blonde hair rolled down the driver side window and stuck his head out.

“What’s taking you so long?! Hurry up!” The man yelled, thoroughly scaring the Frenchman and making him wonder if it was really the right car.

Then Francis heard a familiar soft voice telling the driver not to be so harsh and scare his friends.

“Francis,” Feliciano called out from the passenger side window, “this is the right car, so get in!”

The Frenchman let out a sigh of relief. He would live another day.

Francis got in the back of the car, where he was promptly introduced to the driver, a German man named Ludwig. Feliciano said that Ludwig was his best friend, a comment which made the German seem uncharacteristically flustered.

“Well, Ludwig, it’s nice to meet you. Enchanté,” Francis said awkwardly, still secretly sort of afraid of the German driver.

“You could’ve told me he was French…” Ludwig muttered to Feliciano as he started to pull out of the driveway.

“And what is that supposed to mean?!” Francis raised his voice at the German, causing the Italian to laugh nervously at the situation.

After a bumpy, both literally and metaphorically, ride home, Francis thanked Feliciano and Ludwig and waved as they pulled out of the driveway. Upon turning around to face his house, Francis noticed that the lights were on. Arthur must’ve already been home for who knows how long. Wasn’t he worried about the Frenchman?

Francis unlocked the door, a scowl on his face as he just so happened to lock eyes with a certain Englishman again. He would’ve rather bickered back and forth with the German at that point. At least he hadn’t abandoned him.

Arthur turned his back to Francis again, ready to walk away from him and let his horrendous smelling food burn in the oven.

“Oh, I don’t even get a ‘welcome home’?” Francis said sarcastically, his voice laced with malice.

“When have I ever said that to you?” Arthur spat, turning around to glare daggers at the other man. He had intended on ignoring him, but he was… angry.

“Right, I’m sure you haven’t,” Francis replied, hanging his coat on the rack by the door.

“What exactly do you want from me? You clearly hate me, so why won’t you just leave? I’ve been trying to get this divorce settled, but you’re being so difficult. You’re acting like a child,” Arthur said, a smirk starting to form on his face.

“Isn’t walking away and avoiding someone else childlike? If you think that I hate you, then you really don’t understand anything!” He’d done it again. Why did Francis keep yelling things like that? Arthur wasn’t sure if he couldn’t understand the other man, or if he wouldn’t understand him.

“You’re saying I’m childlike for walking away, but you keep saying these cryptic things that I can’t understand,” Arthur replied, starting out like he was going to raise his voice, too, but instead he ended up laughing nervously.

Francis hesitated and leaned down to untie his shoes, using it as an excuse to avert his gaze toward the ground.

“To anyone else… the meaning behind what I’ve told you would be quite clear…” Francis said, his voice low as he continued to stare at the ground, slowly untying his shoes.

Arthur gulped, his heart suddenly racing. Why was he so afraid of hearing what the other man had to say? Well, it was because it would…

Francis finished taking his shoes off and stood back up straight, making eye contact with the man across the room from him.

“Can’t you see, I… I don’t want to divorce you because I–”

“Stop,” Arthur suddenly said, the smirk on his face replaced with a terrified expression.

It was because it would change everything. If Francis said what Arthur thought he was going to say, that is.

Francis looked a combination of shocked, confused, and hurt when Arthur stopped him. Did he really know what he was going to say? And if he did, why was he stopping him? Why was he looking at him that way..?

“Arthur, I…” Francis started, stepping closer to the Englishman.

“I said stop,” Arthur reiterated, but he didn’t back away from the taller blonde.

“I love you,” Francis stated simply, a soft look in his eyes as he closed the gap between himself and the shorter blonde man in front of him. Before the Englishman could object, soft lips pressed against his and he let them. He let them there only for a short moment, before he gave the Frenchman a small shove.

“If this is supposed to be a joke, I… I don’t find it funny,” Arthur stammered, his cheeks flushed pink. He seemed out of breath even though they had barely kissed for more than a few seconds.

“I didn’t want to believe it either, but I’m telling you the truth,” Francis replied with a soft laugh, his eyes seeming to glow as he looked at the other man.

“Well, this is all the more reason for you to leave. You’ve clearly gone insane..!” Arthur replied, laughing, too, but it was more of a scoff, like he was laughing at him, not with him.

“Quoi? Arthur, you…” Francis’s soft expression contorted into an irritated one. Had he really confessed how he felt only for Arthur to… dismiss him?

“You can’t kiss me on a ferris wheel at night like that and then act like you don’t feel anything towards me!”

“I do feel something towards you and it’s hate!” Arthur yelled, turning his back on the Frenchman again so he could check on his burnt food. “You can’t keep bringing up stuff like that that doesn’t matter. I made a mistake– that’s all,” Arthur added, muttering as though it was difficult to get the words out, like he was lying to himself.

“Doesn’t matter?” Francis repeated, his eyes narrow. “Then I guess it didn’t matter when I took care of you when you were sick, or God knows how many times when you were drunk, and–”

“Oh, so I should stay married to you because you took care of me a few times? You’ve really gone mad, haven’t you?” Arthur said with another sarcastic laugh as he pulled the burnt food out of the oven.

“You’re the crazy one for not wanting to marry me!” Francis yelled, pointing his finger. “People line up asking for my hand in marriage all the time..!”

“Oh, do they now? Like that girl you invited over a few months ago? She couldn’t wait to get away from you!”

“Ouai, because of you!”

Arthur’s eye started to twitch and he turned to face the Frenchman again, an angry look in his eyes.

“Well what are you getting at then?!”

“I’ve already told you! Don’t you listen to anything?!”

Francis seemed angrier than Arthur had ever seen him, and admittedly, the Englishman was being sarcastic, even more so than usual, and he had sort of instigated this whole thing, but… He wasn’t expecting the Frenchman to get so heated that he…

“You must be the biggest fool in the world, rejecting me! It’s like I said, that girl from before was only excited to leave here because of you! You and your big bushy eyebrows must’ve creeped her out! She wouldn’t have come the whole way over to the countryside to go on a date with me if she didn’t want to be with me! But, of course, you’ve gone and messed things up for me!” Francis yelled, stepping closer to Arthur with each word. However, this time, every instinct the Englishman had told him he should back away from the angry Frenchman.

“Calm down, calm down,” Arthur laughed nervously. He reached his hand up to put it on the other man’s shoulder, but when his eyes met with uncharacteristically furious ones, he decided that it was best not to.

“And it wasn’t just that I took care of you when you were sick (or always drunk)! I did a lot of other things, too! I gave you roses in the most beautiful vase I could find (in this country with terrible taste) and you didn’t even appreciate those,” Francis continued on, picking up the glass vase from the counter beside them. “Non, you didn’t even-”

“I’m sure I mentioned that I liked those,” Arthur muttered, letting out another nervous laugh, as he had already backed up so far that he was against the kitchen counter and didn’t know where else to go. For some reason, his heart was racing, and it wasn’t in a good way.

“To who?! Because it surely wasn’t me!” Francis yelled, throwing the vase against the wall behind the Englishman.

After the crash and the sound of broken glass falling on the counter and the floor, the room fell silent.

Francis didn’t intend on throwing the vase. He had done it without thinking, but… He especially didn’t intend on throwing it so close to the other man. It didn’t directly hit Arthur’s face, but a shard of glass ended up grazing his cheek. It was a shallow cut, but the blood that started to drip down the Englishman’s cheek made it look bad.

Francis reached out to touch Arthur’s cheek, but the Englishman quickly batted his hand away. The Frenchman couldn’t help but think the way the other man was looking at him was somewhat different than before…

“Arthur, I’m sor–”

Arthur didn’t want to hear what the other man had to say. He shoved past him and left the house, the door making only a small clicking noise as it shut behind him.

The house was so quiet…

…

Arthur had sent Francis a text message, letting him know that he would be staying somewhere else for a few days. He said that he wanted some time to think about things alone, so he shouldn’t come looking for him.

Unsure of when Arthur would come back, Francis tried to pretend like everything was normal. He kept going to work at the flower shop, taking any extra shifts or tasks to keep his mind off things. When he got home, he would make dinner and watch a TV show. Anything to make the house feel less silent, less empty. As for falling asleep, he struggled with it, but a few glasses of wine seemed to do the trick.

A few days later, Arthur returned. It was while Francis was at work, so he hadn’t known it yet.

The Englishman brewed tea and ate some biscuits at the kitchen table while he awaited the other man’s return. He felt hesitant to see the Frenchman again, especially after he had witnessed such a surprising display of anger a few days prior, but Arthur was calm enough now, had thought things through well enough to know that they needed to talk.

When Francis got back from work, he was surprised to see Arthur’s car parked in the driveway. Of course, he suspected that the Englishman would return at some point, but he had no idea when that would be. The Frenchman’s curiosity peaked when he opened the front door and saw the Englishman sitting at the kitchen table. Did that mean that he wanted to…

“We need to talk,” Arthur said in a tone that Francis couldn’t quite read. The Englishman’s voice was firm, yet hesitant.

“Oui, we do,” Francis replied, hanging his coat up and slipping off his shoes before he entered the room. He couldn’t help but notice that Arthur’s cheek had a bandage on it where he had accidentally sliced him with the broken glass from the vase.

“Look, Francis, I…” Arthur started quietly, “I’ve given this a lot of thought…”

“As you should have.”

Arthur, who was still seated at the table, glared daggers at the long haired blonde man who was standing beside it.

“Would you let me finish?”

“Oui, oui. Go on,” Francis said with a sigh as he sat down across from the other man. He had a feeling he wouldn’t like what he was going to hear.

“I’ve given this a lot of thought, and… divorce is the only option that makes sense here.”

The room fell silent, as Arthur expected Francis to say something, anything, after he completed that sentence.

“It doesn’t matter how you feel about me, or how I feel about you, this marriage was founded on a lie, a lie that wasn’t even our idea. It only makes sense to end it,” Arthur continued quietly.

Silence overtook the room, no, the entire house, again as Arthur waited for Francis to say something. The Frenchman furrowed his eyebrows, his expression changing from an angry one to a distressed one in a matter of seconds.

“How could you say that? What ‘makes sense’ doesn’t even matter in this situation! This is a matter of the heart– a matter of love!” Francis eventually replied, raising his voice.

“It’s only a matter of love for you!” Arthur yelled back, but then he calmed himself down. While he was away, thinking things through, he had decided that he was going to try to stop arguing with the other man… “You can’t force me to be with you– we’re done.”

Francis left the room without another word, leaving Arthur in the kitchen alone. It was a shame, really, Arthur thought, that they couldn’t even have a simple conversation without one of them storming out of the room.

The Englishman stood up from the table, his body feeling heavier than usual, like he was trying to lift himself up while carrying several bags of heavy groceries. Really, he was just that exhausted. Glancing over at the spot on the kitchen counter where the glass vase used to sit, he couldn’t help but feel that its absence alone had created a somber feeling.

That somber feeling was reason enough for the two of them to stop whatever it was they had going on though, wasn’t it? Regardless of how they might’ve felt about one another, they weren’t happy together– that was clear.

Arthur walked over to the counter and put his hands on it, leaning all of his weight into them as he gazed out the window. His hands slid forward some and he winced, drawing his hand back towards himself. A thin red line formed on his hand and he furrowed his brows, glancing around the counter to see what could’ve caused it.

Ah, he had missed one of the shards of glass from the vase…

With furrowed eyebrows, Arthur carefully picked up the piece of glass and disposed of it, thoroughly washing the cut afterwards. Suddenly the Englishman was reminded of the last time he had accidentally cut his hand. Francis had rushed over and helped him, making sure the wound was disinfected and securely bandaged. Arthur smiled at the thought before reality hit him and he realized things like that wouldn’t happen again. They weren’t supposed to happen in the first place after all.

Something wet hit Arthur’s hand and he silently cursed to himself. Was it really still bleeding? It was just a small cut.

No, what landed on his hand was clear… it was transparent and it just kept falling… and falling…

For some reason, Arthur was crying.

Wiping his eyes with his sleeve, Arthur left the kitchen. Pacing back and forth in the living room, at first he wasn’t sure what he should do. That was when he abruptly decided that he would go to the flower shop. The lack of flowers in the kitchen was surely what was upsetting him, after all. It was purely a coincidence that Francis had most likely headed there to work when he ran off.

Yes, it was just a coincidence. But if Arthur did happen to see a certain Frenchman there then he would act as if nothing happened. He was simply going to buy some flowers and it didn’t matter who he saw along the way there. That was what he kept telling himself at least…

Upon arriving at the flower shop, Arthur hesitated, but then went back to reminding himself, or rather lying to himself, that he didn’t care if he saw Francis there.

Arthur entered the shop and immediately glanced around, expecting to lock eyes with the Frenchman any second, but instead his eyes locked with the closed eyes of the small italian man who was working there.

“Um, can I help you with something..?” Feliciano asked Arthur, a concerned look on his face because the Englishman was, from his point of view, suspiciously looking around at everything but the flowers in the shop.

“Oh, uh, I’m here to buy some flowers!” Arthur practically yelled, surprising even himself because he wasn’t too sure why he did that. It was probably because he had hoped that if Francis was in the back room getting ready he would hear a familiar voice and come out.

Feliciano looked visibly upset, maybe even scared, by Arthur’s tone, but quickly returned to his usual cheerful self.

“I see. What kind of flowers are you shopping for?” Feliciano asked softly.

“Ummm… roses? I guess? Yes, roses,” Arthur replied absentmindedly, still glancing around the store, although he was trying to be a bit more nonchalant about it.

“Roses? Sure, they’re right over here!” Feliciano replied, leading Arthur towards a table of different colored roses with long stems.

“Ahh, thank you,” Arthur muttered, following the other man over to the table.

Still, each time Feliciano looked away from the roses to see if Arthur was paying attention, he found the Englishman staring at everything but the flowers.

“Could it be that you’re looking for something else, too..?” Feliciano asked, setting the roses back down on the table.

“Ah, um…” Arthur fumbled around with his words, wondering what he should tell the other man. He worked with Francis after all, so he couldn’t say too much to him, but… “There’s another person who works here… Um, is he…”

“Oh, do you mean Francis? He’s not working today,” Feliciano replied, a confused look on his face as his brain was suddenly working too hard thinking about why the man in front of him might be looking for his coworker.

“He’s not..?” Arthur replied, dumbfounded. If Francis wasn’t at the flower shop, then where could he have gone..?

“Nope, not today! I have his phone number though. I can call him and see where he’s at, if you’d like,” Feliciano offered innocently, pulling his phone out of his pocket.

“NO! No, that’s alright!” Arthur abruptly yelled again, but this time somehow louder, and started waving his hands back and forth. “Sorry about that… He and I just, um… we can’t, uh…” Arthur apologized and then trailed off.

“O-Oh okay,” Feliciano stuttered, once again looking horrified when the other man raised his voice. It was like the italian man was walking around, working, while he was asleep.

“Sorry to bother you,” Arthur muttered and suddenly went to leave the store.

That was when it finally hit Feliciano.

“You’re his fiancé, aren’t you?” Feliciano asked, stopping Arthur dead in his tracks.

The Englishman turned around with red cheeks.

“Huh?”

“You’re Francis’s fiancé, right? The one he’s always talking about?” Feliciano pressed further, an innocent look still on his face.

“Always talking about?” Arthur repeated, his face hot with embarrassment.

“Mm, Francis has this person he’s always going on about. I think he’s really in love with him! Actually… I think they got married… Maybe I’m wrong, but… I think they did,” Feliciano mumbled, his hand on his chin as it started to sound more like he was talking to himself. “Anyway, I thought you might be him because you’re here looking for him. Am I wrong?”

“Ah, no! You’ve got the wrong person..!” Arthur retorted. “Thank you for the help! Bye now!”

Arthur ran out of the store so fast he was out of breath, his cheeks so hot they stung. Had Francis really been talking about him so much that he had convinced his coworker they were in love? The thought alone was overwhelming.

Arthur wanted to find the Frenchman and apologize for being so harsh with him, but he had no idea where he ran off to. He supposed he deserved it because he had just done the same thing, but he was still frustrated nonetheless… He could’ve just called him, or even had Feliciano call him to see where he was, but he had too much pride to do that.

The Englishman was sure Francis just left to prove a point and would come home that night, but it was a few days until he saw him again.

#hetalia #aph france #fruk #aph england #hws france #hetalia fruk #ukfr #hws england #arthur kirkland #francis bonnefoy #ao3fic #ao3 #ao3feed #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer

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mamawasatesttube · 9 months

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aoejznajwuzgVw. OKAY SO

This is gonna be such a ramble, I apologize in advance, but first off, yes Nightwing Kara does indeed pair with Flamebird Kon (or Supernova. You’ve converted me wjejshwhs)

So the idea is literally born from just like, her and Karen’s brief time as the Flamebird and Nightwing of Kandor, and it got me thinking about what it would be like for that concept to have been more expanded upon. And the ways that it could keep in theme with the Superfam and the immigration story, especially with Kara and Clark as first generation, and then Kon as second gen.

Then that got me thinking (as always) about Kryptonian culture and what it means to Kara and Kon. Like, Kara does struggle with keeping her Kryptonian heritage alive and staying true to it atop of assimilation, and how she just can’t blend in with humans in the way that Clark and even Kon can. And then there’s Kon who doesn’t always have a reason to want anything to do with Krypton, despite being Kryptonian himself. Like, the way the three of them are so so interesting to me in the ways that they just never fully feel like they belong. Also like, parallels! While some of Kon and Kara’s story’s are obviously meant to be throwbacks to Clark, it means that they (Kara and Kon) end up paralleling each other in ways that are so delicious, but completely accidental. For all their differences, they’re also so similar in a lot of ways that are completely different from Clark , namely their tempers.

Which brings me back to Nightwing and Flamebird! It would be such an interesting way to like, really explore Kon and Kara’s dynamic, and what they mean to each other. Like, Kara is a nonbeliever. She doesn’t believe in the Kryptonian gods (which is funny af considering Thara became the Flamebird vessel in canon), and I like to think that after crash landing on Earth and seeing that gods to in fact exist, there’s more than a bit of bitterness on her part. I think it would be such a good opportunity to have Kara, technological prodigy of the science guild, be the vessel of one of the gods and really confront what that means.

I have more, but I’m already making this message so long qoejzbwhehehw

ARTHUR THIS IS SO GOOD. WAIT A MINUTE IM YELLING I LOVE THIS CONCEPT SO MUCH ?!?!?!?!???

firstly i do still think its so funny re: kara and flamebird/thara like. no gods arent real dont be silly. yeah thats my bestie theres a god using her as a vessel but like. its probably nothing. something here along the lines of that joke about edward elric meeting god and then deciding he's an atheist anyway.

but also YES......... science guild kara vs the idea of faith and also like, the way gods can and do exist in the dc universe, but not as the untouchable and lofty ideals that a lot of real-world religions tend to posit godly figures as (which is not in any means saying all real world religions do that, as i primarily have experience with only 3 out of A Lot of those, but. yknow.) i think that adds a different flavor to that kind of conflict. like, they're immensely powerful but also just as flawed as anyone else, oftentimes. interesting and fun potential to toy with there (ofc id come at it from a specific angle personally bc haha religious trauma but. lol!)

but kara and wanting to keep her culture alive and then doing so in this very literal way while still grappling with what facets of that culture she wants to represent and support. that's FUN. very real immigrant story in that.

#answers #clarkkent-irons #YESSS SUPERNOVA KON ALSO. HEHE #the kara vs clark vs kon immigrant story is so compelling augh #like. clark is technically first gen but has no memories of krypton. everything he knows is secondhandish info he got from the fortress etc #he's too alien to be fully human but too human to be fully kryptonian #and then there's kara who keenly feels too kryptonian to be human (but questions kryptonian culture after living on earth some too)#and kon who keenly feels too human to be kryptonian. (ofc he also feels too alien still but ykwim)#<- culturally. i do not mean any sort of 50/50 bs to be clear. entirely culturally speaking skjdhadjk #and clark is just like. straddling that line so finely. he's literally in both camps at any given time #the immigrant metaphors are fuckimg tasty. augh #kara #kon

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21witnokidz · 1 year

Text

IN THE GHETTO

Chapter 22

Warning: Smut

“I’m ready to get outta this damn snow!” You complained.

“There’s a lot of things I can do dear girl, but changing the weather is not one of them” Dutch explained.

You could hear Abigail begging Arthur to go and look for John.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if Micah killed him before he got back here” you half joked.

“You got a problem with me girl?” Micah threatened.

“Yea I do-“

“Well no one gives two shits about you bitchin’ and moanin’ about whatever it is you bitch and moan about behind my back”

“You watch your damn mouth!” Arthur growled.

“Woah there cowpoke. Just because you’re fucking her don’t mean you gotta get aggressive”

“The nerve of all three of you!” Hosea yelled. “One of our members are stuck out there and we need to bring them back. Y/n and Arthur you go with Javier to retrieve John. Micah sit down and leave everyone alone”

“Hey to be fair that bitch came at me first. If she never said anything we wouldn’t have a problem” Micah put his hands up.

You went to lung at him but Arthur held you back and dragged you outside with Javier behind.

“Some morning huh?” He chuckled.

“Exactly! It’s literally 7 in the morning! The day just started and he’s already starting shit”

“This way. Last I know, John was headed up the river” Javier lead.

You guys made it up a mountain and started calling for him.

Not long after you found John on a ledge.

“Little John” you greeted him.

“Look can you just make fun of me later so we can get the hell outta here?”

You and Javier helped John onto Arthur’s shoulder and walked to the horses.

From the corner of your eyes you could notice a pack of wolves coming down the mountain.

“I got it” you took out your shotgun and shot the wolves while the boys got John on a horse.

“Y’know John we ought a put a whistle on you for whenever you get lost from the gang” you joke.

“Or when you try to run away again” Arthur includes.

“Y’all will never let me live that down will you?”

“It was a dick move John”

“And I apologized for it. Besides didn’t you say you two would work on each other?” John referred to you and Arthur working on your relationship.

“Just go to sleep Marston”

Blackwater

“Josiah Trelawny” you greeted Trelwany who was laying on his stomach looking at the prison in front of him. A few of us were in blackwater now ready to get Sean back.

“Ike skelding’s boys are moving him to a camp nearby”

You all came up with a plan to just go to the camp and get Sean while Josiah makes a distraction.

“How’s the family Josiah?” Arthur asked.

“Not too bad. What about you? We’re around the same age yet you’re not even married”

“Well I guess there’s a time for everything”

Josiah went down to make his distraction while you, Arthur and Javier went up the mountain taking out the guards.

Finally you got to Sean Maguire. You cut him loose and untied his hands.

“Miss y/n. Still as pretty as a picture”

“Oh don’t let Molly hear you say that”

“But it’s true. Or are you just saying that because Charles is here and you don’t want to make him jealous” Sean was aware of your past relationship because the girls in the gang love to gossip “was it Charles or Arthur? I always get them mixed up”

“Sean there’s nothing that means more to me than this gang. It’s the realest thing to me. I would kill for it and I would happily die for it” Arthur put his hand on the young man’s shoulder “but I would’ve left you here to rot if Charles hadn’t stopped me”

“I don’t believe a word of that”

Then Sean just went on about how Arthur was a good man. Of course Arthur denied it. You hated how Arthur would talk to himself sometimes it really made you upset because of how much he meant to you.

“Alright you all go on back to camp. Me and y/n will catch up” Arthur sent them.

“Come on Arthur what are we doing harboring an O’Driscoll?” You demanded to know why Arthur had bring back an O’Driscoll boy named Kieran Duffy “and to put more salt in the wound, our newest girl hates O’Driscolls”

“Well that’s great maybe you and her can play pin the donkey with him”

“Pin the donkey?”

“Yea. Y’know cause he’s Irish and you can pin him with a knife- oh forget it”

“No Arthur it was just a bad pun. If you can even call it that”

“It wasn’t bad you just need everything to be explained to you”

Back at camp

Sean was finally back and everything was the same again. He was telling some stupid joke that didn’t even make sense but you didn’t care. Sean was naturally funny and that’s why you enjoyed having him around.

Everyone was having a good time and you saw Javier sitting at a table writing something.

“What’s that Javier?”

“Nothing!”

You looked and saw a quick glance of his paper. All the words were written in Spanish but you saw Tilly’s name a few times.

“Are you writing about Tilly”

“Hey” he looked around “let’s just keep this between us ok?”

“Oh my god you’re writing poetry? I never knew you were sweet on her”

“No one can know. It’s already embarrassing enough”

“Let me help you. I’ll go tell her to give you a chance right now”

“No!” He grabbed your arm “you can’t say anything especially to her. Promise me”

“Ok fine” you stuck your pinky out.

“I don’t get it what’s with the pinky?”

“You’re supposed to link yours with mine. To seal a promise”

“Must be an American thing” he shrugged and linked his pinky with yours.

“But I won’t forget about this. We’ll talk later”

You got up to look for Arthur. You haven’t seen him the whole night. You just found him in his cot writing in his journal as usual.

Before the Blackwater incident, Mary-Beth had suggested Arthur try journaling since he didn’t like talking about his problems he could just write them down.

“Arthur” you made your presence known.

“Hey I’m just finishing up” you looked to see him drawing a picture of a wolf. Identical to the one we saw on the mountain.

“I don’t know how you’re so good at this”

“Me neither. But it’s really calming” he closed his book and set it aside.

“You really think we could make it back to blackwater and get that money?”

“Hell no. But lord knows Dutch won’t dare forget about it. I just wish I could’ve saved a little some of it for the gang”

“It’s not just your fault we were all there”

“No I should’ve done something. I don’t know… nowadays I just kinda feel useless. You know how back in the day I used to be this gang’s most useful asset. Now I’m like a firefighter helping people get outta mess”

“It’s not like that. People just trust you is all”

“You even heard Josiah. I ain’t married yet. Do you think.. maybe we’ve been wasting our lives with this?” He said referring to the gang.

“No. I mean we’re all a family and we have each other. You don’t have to marry people to live your life. And that’s coming from a woman”

“There’s just this clock inside me that’s been ticking ever since. Like I need to discover something soon”

You stopped him and kissed him on the lips.

He looked at you in the eyes and you stared back.

He grabbed your jaw and kissed you this time.

“I could feel a clock ticking too. I’m done beating around the bush with you Arthur”

You slammed your lips on his again.

“Let’s go someplace else”

He led you into the forest away from the party.

You walked to a tree and leaned your back against it. Arthur stared at you like you were his meal and walked slowly towards you.

He grabbed your hips and pulled them to his and he began softly kissing your neck.

“I missed this. I missed you so much”

He pulled took off his jacket and laid it on the floor for you to lay on. He climbed on top of you and kissed you once again and grabbed your hand.

“I don’t want you to think about Charles” he whispered from the crook of your neck.

“What?”

“When I’m making love to you. I want you to forget how Charles ever did it”

“Me and Charles never had sex”he lifted his head to look at you “you’re the only man who’s ever touched me Arthur”

This made Arthur incredibly happy. He would literally be kept up at night thinking about the chance that Charles probably had you but he didn’t. “Me and Mary never did it either” he explained.

“I’m so glad”

You kissed him again and he pulled your dress up and you ran your fingers through his hair.

He unbuckled his belt and pulled down his pants just a bit to release his already growing member.

He aligned himself with you and you squeezed his hand. He pushed himself in and you both moaned at the same time.

“Oh Arthur I-“

Arthur couldn’t get his own words out neither. It’s been too long without each other.

Your body automatically knew how to respond to his. It’s like everything about him was engraved into your genetic code or something. His smell was everywhere. The noises he made filled your ears. The way he touched you sent shivers down your spine and all over.

He continued thrusting into your hot pussy and he finally was able to construct a conceivable phrase.

“I love you y/n. I really love you”

“I lov- I-“ you couldn’t even get it out before your orgasm came crashing down on you.

Arthur was not far behind.

You two were just laying there catching your breaths. He laid his forehead on yours and closed his eyes with his dick still deep inside of you. Cum spilling out of your pussy you didn’t care.

“Hey when was the last time you came before me?”

Your joke caused y’all to laugh and Arthur pulled you on top of him.

“Why are we such fools?” He whispered.

“We were just young”

“We’re you really in love with me back then?”

You took your head off his chest and looked at him.

“I loved you ever since that day we spent at the camp alone. I never stopped since then”

“I loved you ever since I saw you dance in that bar” you smacked his chest. “What I’m being honest”

“Let’s just stop fooling around and making ourselves miserable”

Arthur kissed your forehead again and began to sit up.

“I really don’t want the rest teasing us when we get back. Let’s hurry now”

#arthur morgan x reader #rdr2 x reader #red dead redemption x reader #arthur morgan #yeehaw

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chrkrose · 3 days

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How do you feel claiming it's unfair that Lyanna isn't criticized like the others just because she is actually more important to the books than a woc? What's with you people and any girl who is actually important to the book and isn't woc. Lyanna may not be interested in your lame eyes but certainly in George's and the whole book. You people are pathetic with your hates.

She is associated

with magic

With Weriwood tree

With the promised prince

With Rhaegar Targaryen

With the rebellion

With Arya stark

With Arthur Dayne

With house Dayne

Not intersting?

You always turn it into how unfair it isn't a dark skinned girl.

It's not about this. Lyanna is just more important to the story. George made her so.

Lmao “gEoRgE mAdE hEr sO” yall think this is some kinda gotcha, it’s kinda funny tbh. And my favorite character of asoiaf is Brienne, she’s literally white, blue eyed and blonde, what are you on about WOC characters.

Just because Lyanna is as bland as stale bread TO ME, it doesn’t mean it is the end of the world. I know my opinion seems to be super important for whatever reason, but trust me: you can still stan Lyanna all you want, me not caring about her won’t change, so you might as well get on with your day and idk write some fics or create some art or whatever instead of camping in my asks trying to make me care about a character I don’t find interesting. Or do yall really need my validation so u can believe she’s everything you talked about and more? If you think she’s that important to the narrative, why are you yelling stomping your feet? Time for some self reflection there.

Yall are sounding like Stannis Reddit dudebros fans who cry every two hours about how Stannis is the GOAT of asoiaf and why isn’t he the ultimate fan favorite of everything ever made ever. I don’t caaaaaaare about Lyanna, or will I ever, so like… 🤷🏽‍♀️

#anti lyanna stark #like I seriously couldn’t give more of a fuck about lyanna #the only times I think about her are when someone asks me about her #for a fandom who believes she’s the main character to ever main yall seem very fragile in your belief of her being super interesting

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hchollym · 2 years

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I’ve always had this idea that Percy was the third parent in the Weasley household, the main parent really.

I feel like Bill and Charlie would only ever be the cool older brothers because they were never really there. (I have thoughts about them doing this on purpose because they don’t want to be parents to their siblings, they just didn’t realize that meant it would go to their younger job when they leave)

Arthur and Molly are the parents but Arthur is so absent and I feel like Molly will only pay attention during the first few months of the child being born and for Ginny. She’ll mostly stick to the cooking and cleaning and yelling but no actual parenting.

Which because of this I feel explains Percy and his broken relationship with his siblings. He’s the brother, he’s the parent, he’s the supervisor, he’s the elder. In school and out of school. But he’s not an adult, he’s still a kid too.

This isn’t necessarily canon but I feel like it is because of what we’ve seen in the books. I find the relationships of the Weasley siblings so interesting because of how unbalanced it is and how they all care for each other but their parents lack of attention and parenting has caused things to be complicated

I agree 100%.

I wrote in this post about how the younger siblings don't seem overly attached to Bill or Charlie, which likely means they didn't take on a parental role. When Bill went to Hogwarts, the twins (the oldest kids after Percy) were only 3 or 4, and they were only 5 or 6 when Charlie started school. That means the younger siblings only saw their two oldest brothers around the holidays for most of their lives, so it's not surprising that they weren't overly close.

I also agree that Bill & Charlie weren't interested in being parents to the younger kids - they both took off to a different country as soon as they graduated, and they rarely visited. I wrote in this post that Percy got left in a bad position, because even though he was close in age to the twins, he somehow got thrown into the role of a third parent, which was going to eventually lead to resentment on both sides.

Arthur was an absent parent - even when he wasn't working, he was focused more on tinkering in his garage than being an actual father. I actually know a women who literally keeps having children and gives all her attention to the newborn while practically ignoring the older ones because she "loves babies", and I can see Molly doing that. Plus, Molly's two brothers were killed the same year that Ginny was born, so I headcanon that she suffered from a lot of depression/postpartum depression after that, which can make it difficult to function.

That likely did leave Percy in the unfair position of being a brother and a father, and that role would have been difficult for him to shed as he grew older. It really was detrimental to Percy & his relationship with his siblings, but I've made my critical thoughts about Molly & Arthur clear in many other posts, so I digress.

Thanks for the comment! 😊

#percy weasley #percy weasley defense squad #ask me #anon ask #weasley family dynamic #weasley family critical #hp #my thoughts #my headcanons

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shini--chan · 10 months

Note

Hello! I’ve read your Alfred x ColdWarSpy one shot and the oneshot of Alfred x Spy who’s target is England/England x Spay who’s target is America.

I love the way you portray Alfred! Someone on here once described him as: brilliant, ambitious, and ruthless. A combination of the superhero myths: Clark Kent & Lex Luthor, Captain America & Winter Soldier.

I love how you can portray him as still the sunny persona, and some of that may be part of his real self, but also the ruthless superpower that people forget about.

What more thoughts do you have on him?

Quick note: answering asks in a non-chronological order at the moment so that I can get around to emptying the ask box

Ooooo... another person who digs stirringwinds’s stuff. We stan. Also, thank you for the kind words.

In total, I have plenty of headcanons for almost all the Hetalia character’s, partially due to me being quiet the history buff. Warning for plenty of TV Tropes references, because I’m that sort of person that also uses TV Tropes as a Getaway Drug, so links!

Aside from the aforementioned characters that America shares parallels with, I see him having a lot in common with Indiana Jones. They are both the sort of figures that hold strong to a certain code, although with Alfred it often goes into the territory of American Execptionalism – a lot of the Utopia Justify the Means making him in the eyes of plenty of the other nations and even people a Well-Intentioned Extremist. This would also have some truth to it, given that his Puritan background would have left marks. Also has a habit of using Indy Ploys in which he has no concrete plan and just improvises as he goes. Has some negative side effects in larger operations, where he would need a more detailed plan aside from vague goals of establishing freedom and democracy or something of the sort. In simple terms, his thought process would sometimes be like this:

Situation A happens

Stuff happens

Situation B comes into effect.

Big on the Obfuscating Stupidity. On some part he is also very silly, and would just want to have some fun. On the other he would just want people to underestimate him. Think of Zaphod Beeblebrox from Hitchhikker’s Guide to the Galaxy. At times can also be as vain and narcissistic.

On both of the upper points – he has a tendency to over think matters at times, leading to the Centipede’s Dilemma. But because that’s one of the things he is generous enough to share, he loves invoking it in others. May or may not have killed Arthur in the past by yelling “Which foot goes next?” when the latter was running down the stairs, causing his father to stumble and break his neck. Yes, Alfred suffers from Comedic Sociopathy, especially when it comes to people he doesn’t really like.

Apropos people he doesn’t like – while Alfred is at times inclusive and loves experiencing other cultures, that wouldn’t apply to morality. Nations have difference moral nuances, things they consider right and wrong that can differ from their neighbour. America is of the opinion that his way is the right way – other modes of thinking would either be tolerated or outright condemned.

Torn between wanting to have adventure and a desire for a simple life. In that sense, he always functions best while living on a frontier, where he would have a mix of both. Always has new ideas, many seeming hare-brained to outsiders, and even to himself in retrospect. But he loves to be a Pioneer, so he won’t let anybody stop him, until it is too late, that is.

Is a surprisingly good cook, although it often involves things that other people wouldn’t eat. Literally can’t stick to the recipe because he would always want to try out something new. As such, he would seldom make the same thing twice. Except steak – the steak must be rare and the tea of the southern sweet variety or else.

Ranges from being a Southern Gentlemen to a loud and rude New Yorker with all of that Brooklyn Rage and everything in between. Though, aside from that, he would often put on the guise of that All-American Boy and turn up that Hollywood Charm.

I shall finish here before it gets out of hand, though you peeps are free to request more in the future.

#non yandere #aph america #hws america #hetalia #analysis

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gusujay · 4 months

Text

Recently had an interaction with Dutch where he called Arthur’s name but I was in the middle of doing one of the camp chores so I wanted to finish it first but then I just hear Dutch yelling “well FUCK YOU THEN” sir I am literally helping Pearson keep this gang fed and alive right now. I am bringing hay bales to the horses which includes your horse! I am chopping wood for the fire that lets us cook meat and stay warm. I am hunting 24/7. What do you mean “well fuck you then“?

As a side note, that voice line Micah says when he sees Arthur feeding the horses, where he says “make sure Baylock gets some of that” always makes me pause. my brother in Christ, have you considered doing it yourself? Arthur is almost single-handedly keeping the ecosystem of this camp running.

I do have to admit tho, it is very funny seeing Dutch rant and rave about how we just need a bit more money while I know full well that Arthur has at least 2 gold bars, about 10 platinum necklaces, and a little baggy full of gemstones in his satchel as we speak.

Am I gonna put it in the camp money box? No. Will I sell a couple expensive trinkets at a fence and then donate that money? Yes. Do I keep the money I donate to camp high enough to keep upgrading the camp with the ledger? Yes. But Dutch doesn’t need to know about the gold bars I’m lugging around with me. Thats so Charles and Arthur (and whoever leaves with them) can buy a nice farm somewhere when the game magically conjures the option out of no where, which I know won’t happen, but a boy can dream

#red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan

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invisibleraven · 1 year

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The more the merrier

A series of ficlets for @polyshipweek 2023

Day Six: Mythology AU-PeterPatterLina <-AO3 link

This is very loosely based on the legends of King Arthur, specifically the love triangle between him, Guinevere, and Lancelot, only making it polyamorous, and with a much happier ending.

All Reginald had ever wanted to be, his whole life, was a knight. To slay dragons, rescue maidens, go on holy quests, and serve his land. To go down in legend, like all the heroes of old. Of course, he knew it was not possible, given his situation was that of a poor farm boy with no education or training, but he wished it all the same.

He had no sword or lance, but a simple shepherd's staff. No mighty steed but a lame pony who was his dearest compatriots, but not good for jousting or rescuing maidens fair.

That all changed one day when he was out tending the sheep. He heard a far off cry-that of a woman, screaming in terror. He glanced at his flock, safe and secure, and then towards the nearby woods where the noises were coming from. He knew it would mean punishment should a single lamb be lost, but he took off running, nothing but his staff in hand.

There he found a large wolf, snarling over a woman dressed in gossamer and silk, her ankle caught in a tree root. He yelled and raged at the creature, swinging his staff at it until it slinked away. He knew it to be a foolish endeavour, but he needed to be brave, to protect this poor innocent who had fallen victim to nature. This was his chance to play hero, so he did so. Finally the wolf was far off, a mere dot on the horizon, and he turned back to the fallen lady. “Are you okay, miss?” Reggie asked, stooping down to free her caught foot.

“I am now, thanks to you, my brave hero,” she said, standing tall. Reggie held back a gasp at her stature, the almost ethereal quality to her. Her gown flowed in the wind, the colour of a quiet lake, all blues and silvers, reflected in her eyes, while her hair was as golden as the sun. She peered at him, and then smiled. “I can see that you are noble, kind, and true. If you keep hold of these qualities then you shall always have my blessing.” with that she kissed his forehead, and disappeared in a blast of light.

Reginald winced and rubbed his eyes, making his way back to the sheep-thankfully all there, and wondered if he had dreamt the whole thing. Yet he could feel a tingle of where the kiss mark was, and felt a sense of-confidence, of power, of luck.

And so it was that the next day a local knight came asking about him as a squire, a chance that Reggie couldn’t give up. He bid his family farewell and headed to the knight’s keep. There he learned all there was to know in regards to being a knight, the ways of the world. And it turned out, he was quite good at it. Almost unnaturally so. He often wondered after the woman whom he rescued, perhaps she had some sort of powers, and her blessing was literal?

And he remembered the words she had said to him, so he vowed to remain noble, kind, and true, just as she wanted.

This became complicated when he was called to be knighted by the king himself. Reggie had long dreamed of joining the Round Table, of serving King Lukas. The man was hardly older than Reggie himself but had already established himself as a wise and fair ruler. And he lived up to every bit of the legend.

Luke, who smiled at Reggie after knighting him on the rocky clifftop where he had found him, and helped defeat a bear. Who shared stories with him around the campfire when they went on quests and listened to Reggie’s in return. Who held him tight on cold nights under the stars, if only so they could keep warm. Who owned Reggie’s heart wholly for their time together.

But then they had to return to Camelot. The Grail had been retrieved, they were all gloriously tired, and deserved a rest. But Reggie would have been fine never returning, because he knew that as soon as they returned, Luke would no longer be his.

Because waiting back home was Luke’s queen-Julianna, Julie to those who knew her. Reggie had yet to have the pleasure. He held no malice towards her, he knew Luke loved her, as she loved him, and from what he had heard from the other knights, she was the best woman there was. Sweet, talented, and bonny to look upon. But no one person could be all they described.

Yet when he gazed upon the queen for the first time, the soft smile she gave him, her heartfelt thanks for keeping the king safe, the tiny giggle she let out at some joke or another had Reggie ready to hand his heart over. It seemed even the stories of the queen held no candle to the real person.

As the days went on, Reggie felt overwhelmed. The court was much different than life on the farm, or even the keep where he had learned his trade. He tried to read the books and scrolls in the library, but they seemed to turn him around even further. It was in this confused state that Luke found him one day. “I know it’s hard, my dove,” he said. “It was hard for me as well.”

“Were you not raised by your father to rule?” Reggie asked.

Luke snorted. “My father was a simple schoolmaster, my mother a weaver’s apprentice. I have not one drop of royal blood. I honestly wanted to grow up to become a bard.” He gave a wistful sigh at that, and Reggie could see it-there had been many a night around the fire where Luke had led his knights in song, his voice carrying through the darkness and bolstering all their spirits.

“Then… how?”

“I pulled a sword from a stone,” Luke offered in explanation. “After all the horrid prior kings, a wizard put it there, and said only the one true king could pull it out. I did so on a dare, and well, here I am. The wizard taught me for a bit, how to rule and be a good king, but then he went off exploring. He pops in every few years, but I had to learn on my feet. So I study, but it’s mostly Julie who I learned from.”

“The queen?” Reggie asks. And as if she was summoned, she enters, a book in hand. Luke gestures her over, whispering in her ear. She looks at him with love, and a bit of exasperation, but presses a kiss to his cheek before joining them.

“Hello Ser Reginald,” she says with a nod. “My darling husband says you may need instruction. My father was a wealthy lord, and he insisted I learn along with my brother everything that could be taught. I’d be happy to help you.”

Reggie tried to protest, he did, but the queen wouldn’t hear of it. So he spent many afternoons learning with Julie, others sparring with Luke, and many more with the both of them. Yes, he would say he was guardian of his sovereigns, but they still pulled him down onto the grass to picnic with them, still lay beside him as he read aloud, delighted in singing songs together.

Which is why he was now so conflicted. He knew his heart loved them both, but he could not act upon it. To do so would mean treason, heartbreak, and the loss of everything he had ever wanted. He knew the blessing given to him would disappear should he try to gain either of his loves for himself-such an act would not be noble. And there was no way he could have both-greed was the antithesis of being true. So he decided to suffer in silence.

Fate however, had other plans.

It was late, well past time to retire when he was summoned to Luke and Julie’s chambers. They had a small fire banked, candles lit, and worried looks on their faces. “Sit, please,” Luke urged. Reggie sat, and was almost afraid to look at them. Had they discovered his desire for them and this was to be his ousting from the kingdom? Was he being sent to another land for the foreseeable future? Was there a war coming he knew nothing about?

Julie gave him a small grin, and squeezed his hands with her own. “You needn’t look so worried abejorro, we have glad tidings.”

Reggie tried to smile, but he was sure it was a weak one. “Is it an heir?”

Luke chuckled. “No, not as of yet.” Then, with a smidge of doubt, turned to his wife. “Right?”

Julie tittered with laughter. “No tesoro, not yet.”

“Then good news do you have for me?” Reggie asked, noting that Julie had yet to let go of his hands. Or that Luke was reaching out to grip his shoulder, a smile on his lips.

“Do you truly not know?” Luke asked. “Have you not guessed?”

“I guess we need to be a little more obvious mi vida,” Julie smirked, then turned and pressed a lightning fast kiss to Reggie’s mouth. He squeaked, freezing, but then melted into the kiss, the sweet flavour and spark of white hot passion felt like the dawning of a new day, Reggie’s heart bursting with all the colours of the sunrise.

He pulled back, and before he could think to utter anything, Luke swooped in and captured his mouth for his own kiss. It was more playful, full of cheek, but then there was a swipe of tongue, and there was that daybreak feeling once more. Luke pulled back, offering Reggie an impish, boyish grin.

Reggie was flabbergasted, not knowing what was going on. But his lieges were staring at him expectantly, hopeful, and his lips were tingling, his heart pounding, his brain reeling. “I… I cannot.”

“Oh,” Julie said, her voice deep with disappointment.

“Do you not feel the same?” Luke asked, his voice the smallest and quietest Reggie had ever heard it.

“No, I adore you both!” Reggie responded. “But… I was told I had to stay noble, and true.”

“Who told you that cariño?” Julie asks. So Reggie sits them down and tells them the tale. How he has longed for them, but feels he would be betraying his promise to love either of them, let alone both.

“Reggie you have the largest heart of any man I’ve known. Have stood by my side through thick and thin, on every quest. If that is not the definition of truth, I don’t know what is,” Luke finally says.

“And don’t think I haven’t heard you stick up for those who cannot defend themselves,” Julie pipes up. “Or your care for every creature under this roof. How is that not noble?”

“Isn’t it selfish?” Reggie asks.

“Do you think us selfish for wanting you?” Luke questions. Reggie shakes his head so fast Luke wonders how his teeth aren’t rattling. “Then how is it different for you?”

“Reggie, you became a knight because you are all those things,” Julie assures him. “Not because of some blessing. But we would love you if you were still the poor boy on the farm using a stick for a sword and a lame pony as a noble steed.”

Reggie thinks it over, for a long time, sitting in silence as the thoughts tumble around his brain. Finally he reaches a conclusion, and reaches for his loves, pulling them in for as many kisses as he can handle-which turns out, was quite a lot.

He never sees the woman who blessed him, nor any great misfortune for being the love of the royal family. He instead sees a lifetime of adventure, and more importantly, of love, and that was worth any childhood dream or fairy blessing ever.

The stuff worthy of legends.

#polyshipweek23 #my stuff #writing #fanfic #peterpatterlina #rukebox #julie and the phantoms #gosh this got long

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currupted-galaxy-soldier-army · 8 months

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GSA knights headcanons!

TW: suggestive, trauma non-con elements!

Meta Knight:

He's actually a she! She just hides her actual gender.

Her actual name is Mera!

She copes from her trauma by reading and writing taboo fanfictions and inserting her trauma into it.

She is touch-starved but rejects anyone wanting to touch or hug her.

She sometimes can't sleep because of her trauma following her.

She enjoys sweets but keeps it hidden.

She has feelings for Sir Arthur but keeps it hidden because of fear of his father. The one who started it all.

She actually despises fighting and wishes to drop it but she doesn't want to because she wants other female warriors to look up to her and feel like just because they were born as a girl, doesn't mean they can't fight. Also, Sir Merkurs would send a group to go and trap her so she can be used as a housewife and forced pregnancy since Sir Merkurs spread the lie that the number of female warriors is dropping and they all need to be locked away to a "safe planet" so they can get more warriors. Only a few saw through his lies. Most just blindly trust him because "He's the one over Arthur, so he knows what's best."

She likes to sing and sometimes sneaks to the local children's care center to sing them a little lullaby before sleep.

She also likes to draw and often leaves little doodles at Sir Arthur's door.

She likes watching Netflix and YouTube. Even has her own streaming and YouTube account bc she likes to create content without showing her face. Lots of followers already. She's one with human technology in the GSA bc others never visited that place (Besides Falspar. Both don't know that.)

She does dream of having a child one day- with Arthur

She's slightly hypersexual even when she got raped a few years back

Sir Arthur:

He's the son of Sir Merkurs, the one who started it all

Luckily he doesn't really share the mindset of his father.

One time he discovered a female warrior and told Sir Merkurs about her. He will never forget her begging and sobbing as she fought against the guards who eventually took her away to the "safe planet". Since then, he swore to himself to never make that mistake ever again.

He secretly loves Meta Knight. But he knows his father would get angry at him, yelling how he "didn't raise him that way" if he ever knew.

He loves the little doodles of him that he always finds in front of his door. He's still wondering who the artist is.

He wishes to move out of the GSA and somewhere in peace. But he can't because a) he doesn't know where and b) N.M.E is still out there.

He secretly likes to write but always hides his talent because it was called "useless" by his father. Sir Merkurs always wanted Arthur to have Fighting as his son's only hobby, so that he could learn to be a "real man" and not a weakling.

He doesn't know how he should describe his relationship with his father. On one side- Yes he is still his dad. He raised him and provided him a roof over his head with food and drinks. He should be thankful! But on the other, he notices how cruel he seems to be. Arthur is torn between having a family and being trapped and controlled or being free but alone. Not when Meta is with him

He is also the one who accepts job applications and trains the newcomers.

Sir Falspar:

He is german

lovesss Kinderpunsch! He always drank it as a child! (And still does)

He likes to be silly in serious situations and pulls some puns to lighten up the mood. Even when others hate that.

Such an extrovert

Party Party Partyyyy - sleep - Party party partyyyyy

quite literally the only one who came from the human world and such also has human technology like a smartphone besides Meta Knight (which both are not aware of)

quite chatty and sometimes randomly infodumps about the Sonic franchise (He's a big fan of the blue hedgehog!) which often leaves others confused because Sonic is only known in the human world, not in the GSA. Others often just conclude that he must have dreamed that or something.

Excitingly repeatedly lightly slapping his palms on a desk or smt flat as soon as he talks about something that he's excited about. (new release of a movie, a fact about a video game, he improved his fighting skills...etc)

He likes to grill. The best boy fr

He and Dragato are besties but eventually have feelings for each other.

He likes to flirt to Dragato and pull some suggestive jokes and later brushes it off as just joking and never has the guts to confess to him.

He is pretty confused about Sir Merkurs new rule. Yeah danger here and there but is that really the only way to go and force women to give birth?

He's more the sport-focused member of the GSA. He regularly goes to the local gym and works out while listening to 1 or 3 songs on repeat for an hour.

Sir Dragato:

He is a transguy with a pussy

He didn't have the best parents

He is the head technician at the GSA

He and Falspar are besties but he slowly realizes he has feelings for him and it doesn't help that Falspar always "jokingly" flirts with him and the suggestive jokes- oh, he could die for that.

He sometimes watches Channel DDD just so he can see what is new in Cappytown and always cringes at the voice of Dedede. At least he can stand hearing Escargoon talk...

Scared that the GSA could find out about him actually having a vagina and also using him.

He likes to get praised. It was something he rarely got from his parents and hearing that just woke up something inside him. And when Falspar praised him- Oh, he could just drop down because of how weak he would get.

Sometimes he wishes he could just get away from everything and not having to think for a moment. One time Falspar joked that him being pretty must be so exhausting and asked if he should now think for Dragato. His blushing did not help for the fact that he actually really turned him on.

He likes bread with strawberry jam.

He hopes that the GSA would one day get their homo- and transphobic rules thrown out and be more welcoming of LGBTQ+ warriors and see the lies of Sir Merkurs.

Sir Nonsurat:

He is a more shy and quiet dude, minding his own business.

He doesn't like the new rule of Sir Merkurs, he saw right through his lies.

He likes to care for animals and has a job at the local children's care center.

sometimes he hears a soothing feminine voice sing at night. He always wanted to check but he just couldn't bring himself to interrupt the singing.

He has a pet Dog (Golden retriever ) called Bubby. He loves his big doggo!

He's ace

He likes to read in his free time or walk around with his dog.

He is rather the planner. He plans with Sir Arthur for an event.

He is also jokingly called "the quiet planner" by Falspar.

Nonsurat likes to listen to soft Lofi songs. It calms him down from stress.

Anyway, thanks for reading!

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