#actually. I wanted to pick up from the moment they storm out of Arthur's home at the end | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

words-4u · 3 years ago

Text

homecoming – w.p.

pairing: will poulter x actress!reader

wc: 1.6k

warnings: swearing

a/n: aahh i loved writing this! i listened to 'what a time' by julia micheals, 'lose you to love me by' selena gomez and 'losing you' by james arthur if you wanna get into the mood <3

[not my gif!!!]

a couple months ago, you were approached by your agent who said that BFI wanted you to present an award at this year’s BAFTA as you won last year’s rising star award for your role in The Lost Daughter. there was a bit of hesitation before you accepted because there was a very high chance that one particular brit would be there.

you had dated and even got engaged to will poulter a few years ago. you first met on the set of The Death Cure where you played minho’s girlfriend and have been inseparable ever since. it started off as an innocent friendship because you were new to the acting industry and you wanted to focus on that but it was becoming harder and harder to resist him. from the moment he laid eyes on you, will knew he didn’t want to be ‘just friends’ and he made it known. several times.

so you did what felt right and you gave into will. you allowed him to take you on a date which led to a second one and a third and it snowballed into a beautiful relationship before you had the chance to blink. the two years you spent together were incredible, he asked you to move in with him a year in and 6 months later he proposed. it was a low-key proposal as you were both private people so he opted for an at-home dinner transforming your backyard. with the help of his mum, he hung fairy lights, set up a candlelit table with a crisp white cloth and rose petals on the table and on the ground surrounding it. he ordered from your favourite restaurant and after your meal, he had popped the question. it was the easiest yes you have ever said.

then things got tricky. you started to book roles out in LA which required you to move there. you tried the long distance and it was working for a bit but you were gone for months at a time. you had come home early from shooting your latest movie one day and expected him to be overjoyed but instead, you were welcomed with a disheartening look. that night he broke up with you because he felt like he couldn’t advance in his career and in life being tied down to you, someone who wasn’t even in the same country as him most of the year. that caused you to say some things and he said some more things which ultimately left you in tears and storming out the door but not before you told him to never contact you again.

when weeks flew by and there was a deafening silence from him, you were gutted to know that he actually did what you said. weeks turned to months and months turned to years and here you were 3 years later eyes locked with your ex at the british vogue x tiffany & co BAFTA after-party. this was the moment you were dreading since you stepped foot in this party. you broke his eye contact smoothing your hands over your dress, silently cheering that you picked the sexiest dress that your stylist could find.

you successfully avoided him that night but 2 weeks later he was literally unavoidable because he was at your door. see, will was invited by the academy to this year’s Oscars and he knew it was the perfect time to go to LA to get you back. he knew you and dylan were still good friends and hung out regularly so that’s exactly who he went to find out where you lived.

hearing the rapid knocks on your door, you slipped the beige sweater over your white tee and reached for your tote. you were on your way out to meet a friend for lunch but you don’t remember saying to meet up at your place. “hey, i didn’t know…” your sentence trailed off as you took in the view of will. your ex. in LA? looking dishevelled but still so breathtaking with just a black tee and his favourite light wash jeans.

“y/n, hi,” he said demurely.

confusion spread across your face quickly. “why-how-what are you doing here?” you finally said.

instead of answering your question, he gestured inside your apartment. “do you mind if i come in?”

you paused at that request but ultimately let him through because whatever conversation you were about to have, you didn’t want it to be in the hallway with your neighbours' eavesdropping.

will took off his shoes as he entered because even after all these years he respected the fact that you hated outside shoes worn indoors.

“nice place. very minimalistic. very you,” he said softly. you knew what he was doing, he was trying to be cute but at this moment you were not in a ‘cute’ mood.

“will, with all due respect, what the hell are you doing here?”

“i’m presenting at the Oscars on sunday,” he replied. you stayed silent because that was not the answer you were looking for.

“i’ve been thinking about us a lot lately and… it was good. we were good,” he says with a soft smile.

you couldn’t believe that he was in front of you right now reminiscing old times. him. the man that had and broke your heart. crossing your arms, you spoke with an icy tone. “yeah well all good things must come to an end.”

he sighed. of course you wouldn’t let him off easy. not only did he end a relationship when you walked away, but he also ended your engagement, a potential marriage.

“what are you even doing here, will? hmm? you show up at my door after 3 fucking years talking about how you’ve been thinking about us? there isn’t an ‘us’. and what? now you want me back all of the sudden? i don’t get it.”

“it might seem like ‘all of the sudden’ for you but i regretted my words the moment i said them and i have been paying the price for 3 years,” will tried to take a step closer but you took a step back.

you shook your head at his words. “i loved you… and you hurt me,” you could feel your throat closing up. it was getting harder to swallow. “you told me that i wasn’t worth it. that i was holding you back from your career. and you know what’s so funny?” you scoffed. “i was coming home to london, to you, for good that night. i even told my agent to hold off on sending me to auditions in LA because i wanted to be with you. i wanted to work in london so i could be closer to you,”

he frustratingly rubbed his hands over his face and through his hair. “fuck y/n, i had no idea,”

“no, of course, you didn’t. you were deadset on having me out of your life all of the sudden that i felt like there was nothing i could say to make you reconsider,” you dropped your hands in frustration. this conversation was never gonna be easy, you knew that but it was still difficult because, after your break up, you repressed all your feelings and emotions and never talked about it with anyone at great lengths.

“i want you to understand that there is nothing that i said in that conversation that holds any value or reflects at all how i felt or feel now. i made a mistake and ruined the best thing that has ever happened to me. god, there were so many moments when i wanted to reach out and trust me y/n, i almost did but… i would see photos of you online looking absolutely gorgeous at events and premieres and see you on talk shows and it looked like you were happy. like you were better off without me.”

those words definitely eased your heart a little, making it flutter even. your hair shielded your face as you hung your head. “i wasn’t,” you whispered.

there was silence. you didn’t dare look up because tears were running down your face that you couldn’t bare show him.

will stepped forward and placed both his hands on your head. he wanted to look into your eyes as he said this. “i love you, y/n. i made the biggest mistake of my life all those years but i never stopped loving you.”

“will…” you said grasping onto his forearms and leaning into his touch.

“i know i don’t deserve it and I definitely don’t deserve you, but take me back. i will spend the rest of my life making it up to you.”

hot tears were threatening to escape will’s eyes. his stunning blue eyes. you wanted to take him back, you really did but how did you know that it wasn’t gonna happen again?

“i can’t be hurt like that again. i can’t, will.”

“i won’t. i promise. i’d give you my word but that probably means fuck all to you now.”

you couldn’t help but chuckle at that. It was just like him to throw in banter in the most serious conversations. “fuck, i missed you”

“and i missed you.”

he held your gaze until his eyes flickered to your lips. “can i kiss you now?”

you nodded and that’s all it took for will crash his lips onto yours. he already wasted 3 years, he wasn’t gonna wait for another second. his lips moulded yours perfectly. you moaned which gave will the perfect entry to slip his tongue in. his hands went to your waist to pull you in closer and your arms flew around his neck, drawing him in. and just like that all your worries and doubts slipped away because his kiss told you more than he could ever say.

you were his and he was yours, always was and always will be.

#imagines #actress!reader #will poulter #will poulter x reader #will poulter imagine #the maze runner #tmr gally #gally

589 notes · View notes

bitsandbobsofwriting · 3 years ago

Text

Camlann, except no one is being held back by stupid destinies;

Merlin manages to keep Morgana and Mordred on the side of the light, which has a few rather influential knock-on effects.

Morgause leads her army onto the barren fields of Camlann, her hair and eyes wild, but her sword and focus sharp. Opposite stands her traitor sister’s half brother, the Boy-King of Camelot, surrounded by his precious knights. Today, they would all die, she would make certain of that.

Arthur struggles to keep his hands from trembling, he’s well aware that this battle will likely be his, and subsequently Camelot’s, downfall, but his nerves are settled slightly by Merlin’s comforting presence at his side. Which he feels immensely guilty at.

He’d done his best to urge Merlin to run, to take Gwen and Gaius and maybe even Morgana, to go to Ealdor to pick up his mother and run even further, just in case. Merlin had refused of course; Gwen and Morgana had squawked at Arthur’s stupid chivalry and planted their feet firmly in the throne room, a symbolic last line of defence, and Gaius rolled his eyes and reaffirmed that he would be in the infirmary tent, as planned.

He’d given his men his speech and they all seemed content to die for the cause, for one last desperate attempt to keep their home safe, but that didn’t stop the freezing claw of guilt from shredding Arthur’s lungs every time he took a breath. They were just waiting now. For someone to make the first move, for Morgause to get a little closer, for someone to send a messenger.

Arthur’s broken from his stare when a warm, soft, steady hand takes his gently. His head whips to the side to see Merlin, stood without armour (oh, how The King despaired) staring at him with a slight frown. A frown, Arthur thinks, that should be much deeper, and much more afraid. He’s grateful it isn’t. He’s not sure he could cope with seeing Merlin scared:

“Arthur, if... if I knew a way to win this, once and for all, with not a drop of Camelot blood spilt... would you let me?”

It takes Arthur a few moments to process what Merlin had said, on account of his brain focusing on how grateful he is to hear his voice and feel the warmth of his hand instead of actually listening to him speak, but when he does, he copies his servant’s frown, though his is slightly more confused. He doesn’t let go of Merlin’s hand as he responds, instead tightening his grip:

“What on Earth are you talking about?”

Merlin gulps and looks away briefly, a look of guilt if Arthur ever saw one, but he finds he doesn’t really care. They’re all about to die, he’d forgive Merlin anything:

“If I could win this battle, and the war, right here, right now. Would you let me?-”

At Arthur’s continued perplexed look, Merlin rolls his eyes and huffs, smirking slightly as he adds on:

“-Just humour me.”

Arthur gulps, glancing towards the slowly advancing army before once again squeezing Merlin’s hand and looking back at him:

“It would... depend on the consequences, I suppose. Would you get hurt?”

Merlin shakes his head, then stops, and tilts it sideways as though he’s considering something he’d really rather not think about. He can’t meet Arthur’s gaze as he responds:

“I... might need a few hours to rest, afterwards, but any... long term consequences would depend on your reaction.”

Arthur recoils slightly at that, frown deepening as he shakes his head, completely oblivious to the keen listening ears of his six most loyal knights, and another, hidden towards the back of the group. If he’d turned to see them, Arthur would’ve noticed the blank looks of steely determination on Lancelot and Mordred’s faces:

“Well we would never have to worry about that. I... I could never see you hurt, Merlin.”

The King’s voice cracks as he mentions Merlin getting hurt, and the servant’s gaze softens, knowing that Arthur was thinking of their inevitable demise, creeping closer and closer. He squeezes his hand, giving him a soft smile as his other hand lifts up to rest on his shoulder; his question comes out soft and pleading:

“Do you trust me?”

Arthur has to use all of his self control not to yell his answer across Camlann:

“More than anyone.”

Merlin smiles sadly and steps back, dropping both of his still-steady hands to his sides; Arthur feels the gap between them more heavily than he feels the armour on his back. Merlin goes to turn away without another word, but before he can take even one step, a figure is pushing through to the front, gripping his wrist and pulling him back:

“I’m coming too.”

Arthur’s eyes go comically large as he hears Morgana’s voice come from under the hood. He steps forward to rip it down, and she only spares him an annoyed glance before she’s back to staring purposefully at Merlin. A gasp goes up around the group from all bar two, and Mordred dismounts his horse, walking forward to be in line with Morgana. The three of them entirely ignore Arthur’s outraged words:

“Morgana, what the hell are you doing here? You need to be safe at the castle, you’re meant to take the crown what the hell are you doing here?!”

Merlin meets Morgana’s determined glare with a resigned one of his own:

“No, this is my-”

Mordred interrupts him, his voice strong in a way that Arthur had never heard from the youngest knight before:

“No. No, it’s not. You’re not just fighting for Camelot, Merlin, you’re fighting or us, for our people.”

Merlin looks like he wants to argue, but Morgana crosses her arms and holds her head high as she speaks:

“You’re making a stand and you have no right to stop us from doing the same. This is bigger than you, bigger than all three of us, this is our fight just as much as it is yours.”

Merlin can only hold their stare for so long before he sighs and looks to the floor, entirely oblivious to the knights panicking (bar Lancelot, of course). He looks up with a small, relaxed smile on his face, and if Arthur weren’t so preoccupied with the fact that Morgana was definitely not supposed to be here, he would’ve found Merlin’s almost-nonchalance calming. The servant holds both his hands out:

“Together?”

Mordred grins widely, taking one of Merlin’s wrists as he responds confidently:

“For Camelot.”

Morgana does the same, a sudden wind whipping her hair behind her wildly:

“For our people.”

Without another moment’s of hesitation, Merlin turns and marches towards Morgause and her army. His steps are purposeful and strong, and Arthur can’t bring himself to stop him, no matter how desperately his brain is screaming at him. Morgana turns to him with a not-quite-cruel smirk:

“This has been a long time coming, brother. Enjoy the show.”

Arthur can only blink in surprise as she turns and walks towards Merlin. Mordred looks to him next, though the young knight’s smile is a lot softer, a lot more pitying:

“You should consider yourself lucky, Arthur,-”

Arthur barely registers the use of his first name:

“-my Lord gave up his throne in favour of serving you, buried his crown in favour of polishing yours.”

Arthur shakes his head slightly, his voice quiet and confused and strained as he asks:

“Your Lord?”

Mordred looks to Merlin, still marching across the seemingly never-ending field, with an awed smile; his voice is quiet and holds notes of what almost sound like worship:

“He’s more than you know.”

Before Arthur can respond, Merlin and Morgana stop, turning to look at Mordred expectantly. Merlin stares blankly, his brows slightly furrowed, but Morgana sports a wild grin as she yells back:

“I though you wanted to join in on the fun, Mordred?”

The young knight grins in response, turning to Arthur and giving him one last short bow as he cheerfully says, not a trace of worry in his voice:

“Lady Morgana is right My Lord, enjoy the show.”

He turns away quickly, jogging to catch up with the other two before anyone can say anything. Gwaine is the first to react, jumping off his horse and starting forward, to catch up with them, to pull them back, to ask them what the fuck was going on, but Lance quickly lands behind him, grabbing his shoulder:

“Wait, don’t. You trust them right?-”

He casts his gaze around the others, all looking slightly confused but mostly panicked as they dismount their horses. Mordred, Merlin, and Morgana make their journey to the centre of the field, but Lancelot’s eyes focuses on Arthur:

“-You said you trusted him, so just... this is what he does, Arthur. Please, just trust him, everything’s going to be ok.”

Arthur is desperate to question his knight, to demand that he explain what’s going on and give up anything, everything he knows, but before he can say anything, Elyan gasps and points somewhere beyond their friends. The whole army seems to resume their earlier jitters as Morgause differentiates herself from her soldiers.

The three magic users spread out slightly as they come to a stop, Mordred on the left, Morgana on the right, and Merlin, of course, in the middle.

A storm seems to be fast approaching and the loud wind makes hearing each other difficult, but they don’t need words to speak, and Mordred’s question echoes in Merlin’s head as all of their gazes focus on Morgause stepping forward:

“Are the other two coming?”

The Warlock nods, tapping his finger to his temple briefly as he replies:

“I called for them hours ago, they’re almost-”

Arthur is distracted from all that’s in front of him when a desperate and terrified voice screeches out from the back of his army:

“DRAGONS!!”

He, and all the other knights, whip their heads around in panic, only to see exactly what had been yelled about. The Dragon that Arthur had supposedly killed years ago is flying towards them like a hurricane, golden scales shining bright even in the shadows of the approaching storm. Next to him flies a much smaller dragon, pure white and clearly young, unstable in the air but still graceful, still terrifying.

Arthur’s heart sinks even impossibly further as they both fly straight over them, aiming for the other side of the field. If Morgause had two Dragons at her beck and call somehow, there was no hope, no matter what ridiculous plan Merlin had. Arthur felt the tears fill his eyes, but he didn’t let them fall. If this was to end in fire, then he’d sprint to Merlin, just so he could see him, hold his hands, beg him for a smile, one last time.

Lancelot holds him back with a hand on his shoulder and a soft smile:

“I know this doesn’t make sense, but just... trust him.”

He turns back to Merlin just to see the great beasts land in front of them, almost acting as a barrier between the three of them and the opposing army.

“-Took you long enough.”

Kilgharrah does his best imitation of rolled eyes before dipping his head in a bow:

“Where would you like us, young Warlock?”

Merlin grins, allowing Aithusa to push her head into his hands as he answers:

“I want you somewhere off to the side looking vaguely threatening. Only intervene if you have to, I don’t want the Camelot knights getting twitchy and skewering you, you’re an old man after all, I’m not sure you could take it.-”

Morgana laughs aloud and Mordred snorts behind his hand, but Kilgharrah just rolls his eyes again, giving another bow that this time somehow seems sarcastic before clomping off to the side, prowling up and down the edge of the field and huffing the occasional puffs of smoke in the opposition’s direction. Merlin looks down to Aithusa next, scratching her chin and using a much softer voice:

“Go watch over Arthur, keep him safe but don’t let him or any of the others hurt you, I’m sure Lance will explain. Try to stay out of the fighting and don’t let Morgause get anywhere near Arthur or the knights, you understand?”

The creature purrs and nods, stepping around her master and beginning an impossibly fast sprint towards Arthur.

Arthur stares with wide eyes at the gathering in the middle of the field, letting out a deep breath when the Great Dragon bows down to Merlin’s confident stance. The smaller creature bounds to him as he... exchanges words with the beasts, and all Arthur can do is stare as his brain argues over which emotion should be at the forefront. Fear? Confusion? Betrayal? Some kind of guilt? Pride, maybe?

Lancelot definitely looks proud, worried, but proud, and Arthur spares him a questioning glance; before he can say anything, Leon lets out a quiet yelp, pointing across the field and drawing his sword on instinct. Arthur whips his head around to see the white Dragon speeding towards them, eyes bright, teeth bared, and sharp claws ripping up the ground with every step.

He draws his own sword, panic clawing at his gut, but before he can step forward in some pointless attempt to protect his men, Lancelot pulls him back again, stepping in between Arthur and the approaching Dragon with a placating hand held out to each of them; his voice comes out quickly and desperate:

“No, no, she’s on our side, don’t hurt her. Merlin sent her here to protect us, don’t hurt her.”

Arthur stares between them with a mix of blood-curdling fear and endless confusion. But he trusts Merlin, and he trusts Lancelot, so much to Leon’s displeasure he lowers his sword, though he doesn’t sheath it, not yet.

The Dragon finally reaches them, coming to a skidding stop a few feet away. Arthur’s fear is overpowered by confusion, and an odd fondness in the back of his mind, when the creature almost topples over in it’s haste. She purrs loudly, and even Leon appears to relax slightly, even more so when she dips her head in what appears to be a bow to Arthur, before turning her attention to Lancelot and pushing her face into his hands.

The other knights all start forward on instinct, but when Lance lets out a low chuckle and begins... scratching the creature’s chin?? They step back again, watching as the Dragon begins purring even louder, almost bowling Lancelot over as it rubs it’s scaled body across his legs. It’s... acting like a cat...

Gwaine coughs very deliberately and Lancelot looks up with a blush, biting his lip before saying, his words awkward and stilted:

“Uh... guys, this is Aithusa, she’s... a Dragon. She can’t speak yet, but-”

Percival makes a confused noise in the back of his throat, shaking his head with wide eyes as he asks incredulously:

“Dragons are meant to be able to speak??”

Lancelot grimaces, but nods, but before he can say anything, Morgause’s crazed voice echoes over the field, and their attention is drawn back to the face off between Merlin, Morgana, Mordred, and the enemy.

“You can not beat me, not even with your precious pets!!”

The gang can hear Kilgharrah’s low growl at the insult and the sound vibrates across the ground and up into their very bones, even with the distance between them. Aithusa tenses in response, eyes narrowed and teeth bared as she detects the anger and insult swarming in her Kin, but Merlin holds a hand out to the Great Dragon, and both creatures relax as he monotonously responds:

“I’m giving you one chance, Morgause, do not send your followers to a pointless death.”

His tone is even and confident, his back straight, his head held high, and Arthur wonders how he’d never noticed Merlin’s obvious power before. Despite speaking normally, his voice is heard by everyone, even over the howling wind.

The knights can see Morgause’s hands shaking in her rage, her eyes wide and bright golden as she screeches her response, her anger showing through clearly:

“I am no coward!! You are nothing but a servant, a child soldier, and a pampered princess! What hope do you have against me?! I am a High Priestess, you are nothing!!!”

Merlin lowers his head, nodding slightly in resigned sadness. His muttered words, once again, somehow seem to echo across the field, and Arthur recoils at the grief in his tone:

“So be it.”

He slowly lifts his arm, holding it at a forty-five degree angle from the ground, his fingers splayed wide, and Elyan gasps, pointing wordlessly to the lightening dancing between his fingertips. Gwaine lets out a boisterous laugh, grinning as he realises with sudden clarity that Merlin is about to kick ass in a major way.

Arthur just gapes, struggling to process what was happening even as Gwaine whoops and Lancelot smiles proudly. The other knights are also staring, varying levels of confusion, awe, and happiness on their faces.

From where they’re standing, they can see Mordred and Morgana get into a fighting stance, though neither of them draw the swords they have hanging from their hips. Morgause lets out an ear piercing screech, this one wordless, giving the distinct impression that her mind had snapped under the weight of her fury. Her army begins their march forwards as she hurls a fireball the size of a horse straight for Merlin, but he simply twists his wrist sharply forwards. A bolt of lightening rips down from the sky, intercepting the fireball and forcing it to the ground where it explodes in a miniature storm of silver sparks and golden flames.

Morgause screams again, her and her army speeding up in their approach as Merlin gives some sort of unseen command. All of a sudden, Mordred gives a small leap forward, planting his feet firmly as he thrusts his hands towards the ground before ripping them up again; with the movement, the ground at his feet explodes, vines and rocks and roots bursting from the field in a sharp line heading straight for the army. Morgana, at the same time, swirls her arms gracefully around her head, a few sparks of fire lighting up in the darkness as if from the friction between her hands and the air. She brings her arms down again, completing the elegant flow, stepping forward as she blows harshly into her cupped hands. A great, hot fire bursts forth, huge and angry and writhing as it shoots towards the enemy.

A few feeble counter attacks are thrown from Morgause and the sorcerers she has in her ranks, but ultimately, the army can only look on in horror at their approaching deaths. After a few moments of Merlin staring proudly at Mordred and Morgana’s handy work as it rips apart the first few hundred soldiers, he takes his own step forward, raising his arm to the sky. Lightening dances between just his fingertips at first, then down his arm, then all over his body; he connects to the flashes in the sky, and he glows brighter and brighter until he thrusts both arms forward. A tornado of flashing, crackling light shoots out from his hands, striking down thousands of soldiers. Shards of lightening jump from enemy to enemy, leaving none untouched by magic, each being struck down by Mordred’s earth, Morgana’s fire, or Merlin’s sky.

The Camelot army can only stare on in shock and horror as the enemy is wiped out in minutes, screams of those being buried alive, burned as if on pyres, or fried from the inside out reverberating across the field. Arthur’s mouth hangs open, his eyes wide and frozen on Merlin as he conducts lightening as if it were what he was born to do. Something deep in Arthur’s soul tells him that this is what he was born to do.

Aithusa’s protection isn’t required; none of the enemy soldiers get within ten metres of Merlin and his pupils, let alone Arthur and the other knights, but she patrols the front edge of Camelot’s army regardless, nudging back those that step too far forward (everyone was too focused on The King’s manservant, knight, and half sister being... well... Godlike, to care about the fact that a Dragon was using her snout to gently push people around), always with one eye on Arthur, just like her master had asked.

Within minutes, the field goes almost silent; the only sounds to be heard are the gentle crackling of still-smouldering bodies, and the deep breaths of Morgause, Mordred, Morgana, and Arthur. Merlin seems entirely unbothered, his stance still strong and powerful where Mordred and Morgana sag slightly from the exertion.

Morgause falls to her knees, tears on her cheeks as she finally realises the power that she’s up against; Merlin tilts his head slightly before clicking his fingers. The four of them disappear in clouds of deep black smoke and Arthur struggles to stop himself from yelping and falling back when they reappear in front of him.

Morgause is still kneeling, Merlin in front of her with a blank expression on his face. Morgana stands to the side, her face an odd mix of sorrowfully defeated—Morgause was her sister after all—and vindictively victorious. Mordred stands at her shoulder, looking a lot more tired but still managing to stay upright as he gazes upon the scene with well put together indifference. Aithusa bounds over to be stood at her master’s side, and even Kilgharrah joins them, standing behind Aithusa a way’s off.

Morgause finally speaks through her deep breathing, staring up at Merlin in desperation:

“Who are you?”

Merlin just tilts his head and frowns slightly, crouching down to place a soft hand on her shoulder:

“Who do you think?”

Morgause sags even further, her tears streaming down her face as she almost whispers, her voice cracking:

“Emrys.”

Merlin nods slowly, looking to Arthur for the first time since the whole ordeal started. Arthur is taken aback at the shining gold of his eyes, but holds his gaze, gulping and waiting for his servant (?) to make the first move:

“Your orders, My Lord?”

Arthur takes a deep breath, looking first down at Morgause, who is staring at the floor blankly, then to Mordred and Morgana, who raise eyebrows at him, then Lancelot, who shrugs, and finally the other knights, who stare at him with wide eyes, waiting for his answer just as Merlin is. His hands clench at his side, but he looks back to the dark-haired man, his face determined and his voice strong:

“Your suggestion?”

Lancelot nods approvingly at Arthur’s obvious show of trust; the question is more than just a question, it’s a display that The King is treating Merlin like an advisor, asking for his counsel and trusting his allegiance in front of a crowd. Merlin smiles slightly, tightening his grip on Morgause’s shoulder, not that she notices:

“I’m not overly fond of execution, but we don’t have dungeons strong enough to hold her long term, and too many have suffered at her hand.”

Arthur nods, though he sheathes his sword. He takes a deep breath before his next instruction, knowing that this is... delicate, and important; a turning point in his Kingdom’s history:

“Make it merciful.”

Merlin holds in his proud smile and Morgause only has time to gasp quietly as his hand moves from her shoulder to her forehead. Her eyes roll back and she collapses to the floor, dead before she even hits the ground.

The Warlock spares the dead witch a quick, pitying glance, and the grief in his eyes, even after all she had done, is endearing, reminding everyone around them of the compassion Merlin is capable of. He stands quickly, but is careful not to make any of his moves too sudden, stepping away from the body and towards Arthur. His stance is strong once again, allowing some before unseen authority, confidence, power to shine through; Mordred and Morgana take their places either side of them, and even Aithusa sits up, tall and proud, as Kilgharrah edges forward slightly.

This is Merlin, showing off his army, presenting it to his King, offering it up for judgment. An army consisting of himself, his two apprentices, and two Dragons; not large, but likely the most powerful the land has ever known, and ever will know.

Arthur gulps, but meets Merlin’s golden gaze. The atmosphere is thick and charged and The King couldn’t pinpoint whether it was from the residual lightening still jumping between Merlin’s fingers, or the sheer power that was just displayed, seemingly effortlessly. He glances over the Warlock’s shoulder at the carnage behind him and can’t help but take a deep, fortifying breath. Merlin tilts his head, glancing at the massacre for just a moment before looking back with an almost repentant smile:

“I apologise for the theatrics,-”

He’s interrupted by Morgana’s whispered murmur of “I don’t, that was brilliant.” but ignores her:

“-but I can... fix that. If you like?”

Arthur frowns slightly, confused and so far out of his comfort zone that he doesn’t even want to hazard a guess at what Merlin might be implying. He feels a mould grow spontaneously in his gut, a horror with spores that spread throughout his bloodstream as he realises that... he doesn’t really know anything about magic, about how it works, about how Merlin is offering to use it. It had yet to occur to him to be afraid of Merlin, but the sudden realisation that he’d been persecuting his servant’s people with no real understanding of his own former hatred was... jarring.

The Warlock sees Arthur’s hesitation, widening his reassuring smile slightly as he repeats an earlier question, from a time that felt as though it had come years before, but was really only minutes. The discrepancy in timelines between Arthur’s head and the real world does not alter the King’s answer

“Do you trust me?”

“More than anyone.”

Merlin closes his eyes, holding his hands out to the side slightly as he lets out a deep breath. The storm, which Arthur and the knights had become entirely oblivious of despite it’s ruinous thunder and blinding flashes of lightening, quickly dissipates; blue sky and bright sun peek through the fading clouds. A gold shimmer ripples out across the ground from Merlin’s feet, spreading backwards like a wave over sand, turning pebbles and leaving the beach clean and fresh in it’s wake. The ground clears, bodies sinking into nothingness and fires being smothered by magic, even Morgause disappears into the dirt.

Arthur absentmindedly thinks that that could be seen as honorary or disgracing; he supposes it depends on what type of person you were before the end of your life. Merlin would see being entombed within the Earth itself as a blessing, he somehow thinks that Morgause, with her God complex and inflated feelings of infallibility, would find it... demeaning.

Merlin sags his head slightly, and when Arthur’s brain comes back into focus, mostly prompted by the gasping and widespread whispers of the uneasy army behind him, he sees that the barren fields of Camlann, soaked with blood and scorched by lightening, no longer exist. In their place was a vast meadow, bright with the colours of spring and summer; untameable wildflowers stood tall and crimson butterflies were the only reminders of the bloodshed that had watered this paradise before them.

Arthur feels the smile on his face before he had even made the conscious decision to smile, but he decides that today, of all days, he doesn’t mind accidentally wearing his heart on his sleeve. Trust Merlin to do something as unspeakable as rip an army to shreds with lightening, and then apologise for his dramatics by creating heaven on earth.

The King sighs before shaking his head slightly, letting out a short, disbelieving laugh. He can feel the sun on his skin, and his smile grows with the knowledge that the heat warming his cheeks was entirely unnatural for this time of year; Merlin really was pulling out all of the stops.

“You’re a gift to this world, Merlin.”

His voice comes out softly, as if he were afraid of ruining the peace, though he only adds to it; The King finally turns to his Warlock again and almost stumbles back at the immeasurable devotion shining from his now-blue-again eyes. His whispered response carries on the wind as if he were a part of it, and Arthur wonders just how much of this world Merlin has touched, just how much of this universe Merlin has created, extended himself to. Did the wind exist before Merlin? Did the sun? Did butterflies, or lightening, or the colour gold have any space in this universe before Merlin willed it? Gaius’ thick books say they have an answer, but Arthur thinks they might be lying:

“A gift to you, Arthur, only to you.”

THE END!

I’ve been looking forward to writing this one for a while, so I hope y’all liked it!! I LOVE writing BAMF!Merlin, (and BAMF!Mordred/Morgana as well so) :D

Same as always, you wanna extend it/write it properly/remix it, then that’s fine, but drop me message before hand and credit/tag me!! :)

794 notes · View notes

comfortwriting · 4 years ago

Text

Papa Don’t Preach - F.W

Fred Weasley x Reader, inspired by the song ‘Papa Don’t Preach’ by Madonna.

About: the reader discovers that she is carrying her boyfriends baby, the two of them decide to keep it; but the storm gets heavier when she breaks the news to her father.

Theme: fluff and angst

Warnings: teen pregnancy, mention of abortion, swearing.

Throwing up into the toilet, moaning Myrtle giggled at you and sat on the window ledge. “That’s the third time this month”

You wiped your mouth with your sleeve and got up off your knees, flushing the loo you unlocked the door and washed your hands at the sink. “I’m aware Myrtle.” You answered, glaring at her before walking out.

You rushed into the common room, luckily the only people in there were Fred and George. They were messing around pretending to duel with their wands, little sparks hissing out the end.

“Have you seen my bag?” you asked, searching around the room.

The boys couldn’t hear you over their loud laughter, you stood there and put your hand on your hip, glaring at your boyfriend. “Fred, please. This is important.”

Fred and George stopped messing around and spun on their heels.

“You okay love?” Fred asked, walking over and putting his arm around you.

You shook your head no and sighed “I just need my bag”

George walked across the room and picked up your red toiletry bag. You quickly retrieved it, walking over to the sofa you sat down and rifled through it, flicking past your period pads and tampons you pulled out your mini calendar.

Fred and George sat down next to you, the two of them sharing looks of concern.

You counted through the squares, week by week and flicked the page, then another. A wave of sickness and panic pooled inside of you, you put your head in your hands and shook your head.

‘I can’t be, we used a contraceptive charm... surely it worked’ you thought to yourself, your knees shaking and your stomach churning.

“Y/N, what's going on?” George asked, his brother too worried to utter a word.

Everything started to make more sense: the persistent morning sickness, the bloating, the all-day long nausea, your weepiness and mood swings, your breasts constantly feeling tender.

“I think I’m pregnant” you choked out, swallowing hard.

Fred felt his heart sink, feeling scared and annoyed at himself for getting you into such a scary situation.

You went back into your red bag and pulled out a pregnancy test you got from the pharmacy at Christmas when you were back in muggle London.

You stood up, putting the test up your sleeve, walking to the same bathroom, hoping Myrtle would be elsewhere harassing Harry.

“Back so soon?” Myrtle questioned you.

“Fuck off, Myrtle!” You yelled at her, losing your temper.

You walked into the empty stall, locking the door behind you. Fred waited outside as you pulled down your skirt and knickers and sat down. “Fred, put a tap on for me will you?”

Fred walked over to the sinks turning the tap on waiting for you.

You followed the test instructions and stood up, the sound of the fast flowing water made this a lot easier for you, but then again you were always needing a wee with the growing pressure on your bladder.

Flushing the toilet and putting the lid down you placed the stick on lid and walked to the tap to wash your hands. “Thanks love” you smiled at Fred.

“You know, whatever happens won’t make me run away.” Fred smiled, tucking a stray hair behind your ear. “How long do we have to wait?”

You smiled at him, drying your hands on your skirt you walked into his arms and pulled him into a tight embrace. “I’m surprised that you didn’t leg it” you joked, trying not to linger in your fear. “we’ll find out in five minutes.”

Fred stood outside the stall where the test was waiting. “Want me to get it?” He asked, pushing his hair out of his eyes.

You shook your head “it’s okay, I’ll get it.”

Walking into the stall, you creeped up on the test like it was a pest you were about to wallop. You grabbed it, your whole future, your whole worth and life would be determined by this stick.

You walked out of the stall standing next to Fred, he wrapped his arm around you. You took me a deep breath and turned the test over so it was facing you. Two blue lines in the little windows stared back you, looking at the key on the handle you got your answer; you were pregnant.

“What does it say sweetheart?” Fred asked sounding nervous.

You turned around to face him, wrapping your arms around him. “I’m pregnant with your baby Fred and.. I want to keep it.” You decided.

Fred pulled away for a moment in shock but he smashed his lips against yours, kissing you like he had never kissed you before; his pool of love spilling into you.

“Let’s go and find George, I want him to be the first to know.” Fred beamed, you nodded your head in agreement with him.

“Am I really?!” George asked, sounding like his father, he grinned at the two of you.

You nodded your head and showed him the test, George got up on his feet and hugged you and then his brother.

By 5 months your little Weasley started to move inside of you, you would jolt at first and you started to notice stronger movements and little kicks during your classes, grabbing Fred’s hand you placed it on your bump.

The students started to spread rumours and the professors couldn’t ignore it anymore, after all, you weren’t denying it.

You and Fred were forced to address the rumours, you were both scolded for being so irresponsible but you were also provided with support for your academic studies and a much needed appointment with Madame Pomfrey.

You were lucky, Hogwarts still accepted you, The Weasley’s (after taking time to adjust) were so excited for you and Fred, but you were most nervous to tell your dad; the man who always believed in sex after marriage, hated the Weasleys, and slated pregnant teens who needed help.

Fred pulled out a chair for you at the kitchen table, once you sat down he pushed it in for you making enough room for your little bump.

“Pack plenty of food on that plate, dear” Molly smiled warmly at you.

This caused Ron’s mouth to gape open “All because she’s pregnant doesn’t mean she can—“

“If I were you I’d shut it” Fred warned his little brother

“unless you want to wake up to spiders in your bed.” George added, smirking.

Papa I know you're going to be upset

'Cause I was always your little girl

But you should know by now

I'm not a baby

“So what’s with the visit?” Your father eyed up you and Fred, trying to figure out why you were home on a Saturday.

Fred sat awkwardly on the sofa, his focus shifting on various objects around the room, he feared that your father would rip his head off if he were to look him in the face for longer than a second.

“I just wanted to come and see you, I thought I’d come here instead of going to Hogsmeade for the fifth time in a row” you smiled shyly, trying to keep calm.

Starting to sweat, you fanned your face with your hand, if you were to remove your jumper showing your larger bump you’d be kicked out before you could offer an explanation.

Your father noticed the fishtail braid in your hair and smiled.

“I remember braiding your hair like that when you were a little girl, you could never sit still on my knee. You would always fidget wanting to go and play with the other little girls and boys down the street”

You smiled at such a fond memory of you and your dad, hoping that he would do the same if you were to have a little girl.

“Dad, we uh.. we’re actually here because we’ve got some news.” You opened up bravely, remembering to not place your hand over your bump.

You always taught me right from wrong

I need your help, daddy please be strong

I may be young at heart

But I know what I'm saying

“Has something happened at Hogwarts?” He asked, “have you done something?” He turned to Fred with a fast forming glare on his face.

Fred shook his head, “I—“

“Fred hasn’t done anything” you replied quickly, stopping Fred’s chance at coming clean.

“I brought you up to know right from wrong, to work hard, to respect yourself, to stay away from vermin.” Your father spoke, his words like tiny pins pricking at your chest.

You held your dads hand walking through Diagon Alley to buy the equipment you needed for your first year at Hogwarts.

Waiting in the queue outside Ollivanders a young girl with a baby bump walked past, holding out her dirt covered hands. “Could you spare a sickle or two? I’ve got nowhere to go.” She begged.

Your father pushed you out of her presence, standing in front of you “not a chance, you silly girl.” He spat at her.

You gave her a glance of sympathy and stared down at your shoes.

“Don’t have sympathy for that pathetic girl, she got herself into this mess and she shouldn’t rely on hardworking people to get her out of it!”

The tears in your eyes made your vision go glassy, wiping them away with your sleeve, Fred was quickly asked by your father to leave the room and to wait outside in the hall.

“Dad” you cried, feeling a lump form in your throat “I don’t want you to be angry or upset, I’m responsible for my own actions and choices—“

“What have you done? Tell me!” Your father began to lose his patience.

Fred stood outside the door in the hallway, pacing up and down in tears, he blamed himself - you grew up without a mother and thanks fo him you might be losing your father.

The one you warned me all about

The one you said I could do without

We're in an awful mess

And I don't mean maybe, please

“I don’t want you hanging around them Weasleys, Y/N. They’re bad news.” Your father droned on, walking you to the train.

“They seem really nice” you muttered quietly, admiring the twins getting onto the train.

“They’re too poor for their own good, Arthur has a strange obsession with muggles. That wife of his clearly has a problem closing her legs with all them kids!”

You sighed, feeling annoyed and embarrassed to even be related to the man who was dropping you off.

“I better hurry up or I won’t find a good seat” you replied.

Your thoughts spinning around your head made you dizzy, you had to swallow down the bile. “Please don’t be mad with Fred, he’s a really good guy”

Your fathers hands were bunched into fists, his knuckles started to turn white. “What has he done? Fred, get in here now!”

Fred felt he could faint at any moment but walked back into the living room and sat next to you, taking your hand in his.

“We’re in a really tough situation.” You trailed off, more tears spilling from your orb like eyes.

Papa don't preach I'm in trouble deep

Papa don't preach, I've been losing sleep

But I made up my mind, I'm keeping my baby,

I'm gonna keep my baby,

“I’m pregnant.” You breathed out, feeling the weight suddenly lift of your shoulders “and I’m keeping it”

Your fathers face flushed with rage, he got on his feet and pulled out his wand but your instincts beat him to it, disarming him you shielded Fred.

“Dad please don’t do this.”

“You’ve really done it this time, girl!” Your father yelled. “Did I not raise you better? Did all those lessons mean nothing?!”

You began to shake in your shoes, but you stood your ground, Fred took himself away from your shielding. “She’s done nothing wrong!” He defended you.

“I bet you’ve done this on purpose, haven’t you? Get a beautiful young girl up the duff so no one will want her!” Your father bellowed at him.

He says that he's going to marry me

We can raise a little family

Maybe we'll be all right

It's a sacrifice

You and Fred cuddled in the upgraded double bed, his thumb circling yours as your hands glued together.

“I’m going to marry you, Y/N. Once we have this baby and get on our feet.” Fred murmured lowly, trying not to wake up his brother who laid fast asleep on the floor.

“That’s all I’ve ever wanted.” You replied, your hormones making you weep in relief.

“We’re going to have the most amazing life, mini Fred’s and Y/N’s running around.” He chuckled, kissing your head. “We can get through this.”

“It was an accident!” You yelled at your dad through tears, you gripped your bump feeling the little one kick out.

“A mistake more like!” Your dad yelled back “I was begged not to bring you up after your mother died, that was my mistake! And even worse, there will now be a bastard in the family!”

His horrible comments ripped you into pieces, the pins now turning into hot pokers.

Fred wanted nothing more than to tackle your father to the ground, to beat him senseless but he grabbed your hand and tried to control his emotions.

“We’re going to get married dad, but now it’s more common for non married couples to have kids!” You argued, trying to persuade him.

“Married! With what money! You’re more deluded than I bloody thought, he doesn’t even love you!”

But my friends keep telling me to give it up

Saying I'm too young, I oughta live it up

What I need right now is some good advice, please

“Have you truly thought this through?” Hermione bored into you, pacing in the common room.

You looked up from your books and nodded “yes, how many times do I have to explain?”

“I’m just saying it’s not too late to change your mind, you’re too young to be bringing a child into this world.”

“I’m still studying and attending classes aren’t I?” You huffed, scowling at her. “You’re younger than me!”

“But what about getting a job to provide for your child? It’s irresponsible!”

“I get it!” You yelled at her, you slammed your book shoot and tossed it across the room, storming out.

You were hyperventilating, Fred rubbed your back helping you regulate your breathing.

“You’re dead to me, now get out, both of you. Leave my house and never come back!” Your father yelled.

“Daddy please” you wailed “I really need you, please don’t do this.”

You walked away from Fred and up to your dad gripping his hand in yours, “I need my dad” you cried, searching his lifeless eyes for a response.

Papa don't preach, I'm in trouble deep

Papa don't preach, I've been losing sleep

But I made up my mind, I'm keeping my baby,

I'm gonna keep my baby,

You cried your eyes out, climbing into your dads arms for a cuddle.

“Please don’t cry” he wiped your tears “what’s got you so upset?”

“I’m not ready to go to Hogwarts, I don’t want to be so far from you.” You wailed, your hair sticking to your face from all the tears.

Your dad tutted and chuckled at your silly worries “you’re going to love it once you’ve settled in, and you can always write to me if you need to.”

Your father snatched his hand back out of your grip, he picked up his wand and stared down you and Fred.

“You both need to leave before I do something I can’t take back.” He warned “NOW”

You cried all the way back to Hogwarts, Fred and George comforting you when you broke down into a mess. Hermione helped you catch up on all the work you had missed from being unable to attend classes as you got into the later stages of your pregnancy, you were about to burst at any moment.

Daddy, daddy if you could only see

Just how good he's been treating me

You'd give us your blessing right now

'Cause we are in love

We are in love (in love), so please (so)

“Mum!” Fred yelled from the bathroom, holding your hand “It’s happening!”

Laying a pool of the water that burst from inside you, you were slammed with contractions making it hard for you to get back on your feet. This was it, the moment you had been waiting for the past nine months.

Molly stumbled into the bathroom and moved her hands around rapidly, piles upon piles of towels and blankets filled the room and the bath started to run.

“Fred help me get her trousers off so we can get her into the bath.”

“Mum we can just use—“

“We can’t use magic for everything!”

After finally getting you undressed they placed you into the bath.

Fred held your hand and knelt beside you, stroking your hair and placing kisses against your temple.

“Please don’t leave me” you cried, feeling frightened.

I’m not going anywhere, love.” He reassured you.

Papa don't preach, I'm in trouble deep

Papa don't preach, I've been losing sleep

But I made up my mind, I'm keeping my baby, hm

I'm gonna keep my baby, ooh ooh

You opened your eyes and looked down still thinking you were in the bath, you found yourself in Fred’s bed, wrapped in blankets with a towel over your chest.

You tried to sit up but Molly stopped you, “take it slow, dear” she said softly.

“Where’s Fred? Where’s.. where’s my baby?” You asked feeling panicky.

Before you could drive yourself into worry, the bedroom door opened and Fred walked in with your bundle of joy.

Fred now delighted you were finally awake came by your side and placed your child into your arms.

You had passed out from losing too much blood just as your child came into the world.

“Madame Pomfrey was hammering at the door, brilliant timing really.” George told you as you counted your child’s fingers and toes.

“Is it a girl or a boy?” You asked, looking up at the Weasleys standing around your bed.

“A beautiful baby boy.” Fred replied, kissing your head.

“Fabian Weasley” you smiled, looking at Molly. “Let’s name him Fabian.”

#fred weasley imagine #fred weasley x you #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter #hp #hogwarts #x reader #weasley x reader #weasley #george weasley #imagines #OneShots #angst #fluff

508 notes · View notes

moral-turpitudes · 4 years ago

Text

A Sister’s Intuition:

A/N: The gif has nothing to do with this one. It just made me chuckle cuz this most certainly has fighting.

Also, this is a weird mix of Arthur actually killing the church dude, but instead of Linda trying to shoot him right after like in the show, this story is like the event that causes her to go off the rails and try to shoot him (and fictionally, Y/N lol can you imagine). So this, in my fucked up mind, is the calm before the storm that is the lovely Linda with a gun.

Trigger Warnings: Fighting obviously, Mentions of Blood, Angst, Family Drama?, Cheating, Taunting, Swearing.

Word Count: 2,114

Characters: Shelby Family x Shelby!Sister Reader

Requested: Yes, well it was suggested but still. Long story short I have a bone to pick with my brothers gf and this was cathartic.

Request by: Anon, you can find it here.

Summary: Linda is being Linda and Y/N can’t stand her messing with her brother Arthur’s head another day. She just snaps. People and their feelings get hurt. Nothing like a nice bloody family dinner at the Shelby-Gray household.

Y/N’s skin crawled as she heard the voice of the woman downstairs. Her heart racing and fists clenching as she heard the half-hearted laughs and forceful exchange of pleasantries that were painstakingly muttered by the rest of the Shelby family.

As she smoothed out her dress, she heard Polly calling for her, surely to help with setting the table for dinner. With shaking hands she opened her door, her eldest brother Arthur’s laugh echoing through the lavish house as she made her way down the stairs.

“Y/N, nice of you to join us.” Thomas said, patting her on the shoulder as she sulked to the kitchen, avoiding Linda’s ever-judgmental gaze.

“I’ll set the table.” She said, Polly nodding at her with an annoyed expression as she glanced out into the dining room. The feeling fortunately seeming mutual.

“How’s the farm treating you brother? Having fun with the baby?” Ada asked, as Karl reached for one of the rolls in the basket Y/N was setting down.

“It’s good, quiet.” He said, his eyes looking tired and emotionless as the years went by.

“Don’t eat too much now, you won’t want dinner sweetheart.” Ada said, giving him a warning glance as Y/N silently set the table, glancing at Arthur’s troubled state. Thomas couldn’t help but notice his youngest sisters rage as she harshly set the silverware down, especially the knives.

It had been two years since the first conflict between her and Linda. The whole thing starting as Linda slowly brainwashed Arthur. No one really noticed at first, how she sunk her claws into him. How he’d stop his excessive use of cocaine, or his anger fueled drunken rampages on a dime. How he’d mess up on missions, putting them at risk. Or how he started asking Linda for permission to go places and her ordering him to be home at certain times when on business. No one noticed that while some of his habits were best left in the past, he was also leaving part of himself. The part of him that she knew and grew up with. The part that smiled and joked. The part that didn’t question himself and his worth on a daily basis. This was how she pulled him in, and he was forever tied to her now. Seeing as their 1 year old sat in his lap, giggly and oblivious to the pressures and expectations he’d be raised on years later whether Arthur wanted him to be or not.

The big blow up between them though, was when Y/N learned she cheated. If she inherited one good thing in life from the Shelby family it was her intuition. Her ability to sense when a person meant harm. Her ability to know when someone was nothing more than a snake. A soul-sucking, venomous snake.

The night she found out, she made sure Arthur was alright, or at least alive, knowing how he could spiral at any given moment. That was one thing about growing up around a dysfunctional family. Knowing when the others needed help, and knowing when to help set others straight. And he had seemed okay, at least until a few days later.

That same week Arthur killed the man she’d cheated on him with, going down a dark spiral as he grappled with his sins. His eyes brimming with tears and hands stained red as he walked into the house unannounced, nearly giving Polly a heart attack.

Y/N remembering how she sat him down and wiped the tears from his eyes and blood from his busted knuckles as he stared at her.

“These are the hands of a devil, Y/N...how can I be saved like this?” He asked through tears.

“Don’t ask how god can save you. Ask how you can save yourself.” She said, wrapping his hands in gauze.

“What?” He asked, confused. The tears streamed down his face as she urged him to drink a glass of water, given he was already in a drunken state.

“You have to save yourself, Arthur. I can’t do it for you. Linda cheated on you yeah? Well it’s not the first time she’s hurt you. No one else can really see it...not even you...but I can...She’s made you into someone you’re not. You may need to slow it on the drinking and drugs, and get your anger in check, but you don’t have to completely ruin yourself over some words in a book or some girl alright? I want my brother back...” She said giving him a strong hug. She wasn’t known for talking much, always preferring to stay in the background and being quiet, but she threw insults and plans around in her head just like Thomas. But when she did say something, people listened.

The day after Arthur attacked Linda’s lover, she decided to meet with her at her house. The rain pouring down as she made her way up the winding dirt roads, her thoughts running through her mind as she reluctantly stepped inside the farmhouse.

“Oh, Y/N. Wasn’t expecting you.” She said, a disgusted look on her face.

“We agreed last night to meet but I guess you didn’t remember. Must’ve been a bit preoccupied I see.” Y/N said, leaning to the side as she saw yet another man walking around the house that wasn’t Arthur. There was a long, awkward silence before she continued.

“I’m just here to warn you that you’ll get what’s coming to you. You don’t fuck with the Shelby family.” She said spitting at her feet.

“You know Y/N? You’re just like the rest of them. No morals...no class...nothing.” She said.

Y/N smirked as she inched closer to her, standing almost eye to eye. With a quick draw of her arm, she landed a harsh slap to her face. Her handprint stinging and bright red as it adorned Linda’s cheek.

“You’re one to talk about morals and class. People like you make me sick.” Y/N spat, walking off as Linda stood there holding her cheek. Her mystery lover nowhere to be seen as he’d retreated back to the bedroom in hiding, most surely thinking Arthur was there.

As she set the final glass down, she was brought out of her horrendous memories by the voice of her brother John.

“Aye Y/N, how’s your training been going with Finn and the guys? Think you could take him out yet?” He said, a mischievous smirk on his face. Linda scowled as she glanced over at Y/N, probably remembering how her face stung after the blow. The event seeming years away due to the hectic business of the blinders and the growing number of kids in the family.

“I highly doubt she could. Even if she grew up with you lot as brothers. Besides, it’s not ladylike. You can’t fight around the children.” Linda said, sipping her tea.

Y/N’s eyes pierced hers as she sat there. Her appetite fading as she got up from the table.

“Y/N...now’s not the time for this. Sit down.” Polly said, pointing at the empty chair between her and Thomas.

“I have no desire to sit with someone I can’t trust. You’ll get what’s coming to you Linda. I swear it on our mums grave.” She said getting up from the table again, this time making it to the kitchen before hearing quick footsteps.

“You said that last time and nothing happened. What are you going to do? All this family does is make empty promises. You’re just a worthless girl with nothing but her families bad manners and filthy blood money...” Linda continued, Y/N zoning out as she unclasped her earrings and threw them on the counter. Her eyes scanning Linda’s movements as she stepped closer, cracking her knuckles. John got up as soon as he heard her bad-mouthing his sister. Finn stood and made his way near her only for John to hold him back with a smirk, knowing this was long over-due.

She didn’t say anything as she swung a left hook, a loud crack sounding through the room as Linda stumbled back. John cheering slightly as she regained her composure.

“I told ya you’d get what’s coming to you.” She said, as Linda lunged forward and went to slap her in the face, but failing as Y/N blocked her hand and twisted causing a scream to erupt from her lying mouth. Blood was dripping from her nose as Arthur and Thomas came in. To her surprise, they didn’t jump in nor did Arthur try to stop her, knowing all too well his once precious Linda was bound to pay somehow. Polly and Ada shielded the children, holding their hands over their eyes as the mini brawl panned out.

“You’re going to hell!” Linda yelled, punching Y/N in the shoulder as she cried.

“I’ve been there already love, it’s quite nice.” She said moving back and raising her arms up to guard her face, looking for an open spot, eventually landing a final blow to Linda’s ribs that left her on the ground gasping for air.

Thomas suddenly grabbed Y/N’s arm and yanked her back. She wasn’t kicking and screaming, but he could see the rage in her eyes. The way his and Arthur’s often looked.

“Enough. Alright? She got the message. Enough.” He said.

“No. No I don’t think she did. Get off me.” She spat, trying to wrestle her way out of her brothers grasp.

Thomas let go so he wouldn’t hurt her, but watched on as she stalked towards Linda and Arthur.

“You can see how you’ve torn this family up right? I can’t speak for everyone, even for the man you’ve hurt, but I can speak for me and I’ll never accept you into this family again. Never. Now get out of my fucking house.” She said lowly, grabbing Linda’s arm harshly as Arthur tried to stop her.

“Y/N I’ll take her, you go cool down.” Arthur said, his hands shaking a bit as he was still torn between the hurt from Linda’s past actions and the love he had for her.

Y/N stood up with her arms crossed, her knuckles bloodied and aching as she stared her brother down.

“Arthur...do you remember what I told you that night? You have to save yourself. She’s going to keep you trapped in those same situations again if you don’t do something. She’ll hurt you if you don’t watch out.” She said, wiping a tear from her cheek as she shoved past her brothers and Polly, the children crying as an awkward silence fell over the house. She sulked back up to her room, cleaning her knuckles and bandaging them the best she could, knowing everyone probably hated her now.

“What was that aye?” Thomas asked.

“Fucking hell Tommy.” She said, jumping slightly at his voice from the doorway.

“I was just doing what no one else wanted to fucking do. Someone had to make her and our idiot brother see reason.” She said, wincing as she tried to wrap the gauze around her knuckles.

Thomas silently came over and helped her, trying to think of something to say as he snipped the last of the white fabric.

“You all hate me I already know. I just couldn’t sit there as she acted like everything was fine. Like she didn’t hurt him multiple times. She’s nothing but trouble and no one fucking understands that.” She said, tears welling up in her eyes.

“He can protect himself...I’m sure he’ll come around. And we don’t hate you. Besides, if I was betting on you that would’ve been the best fight of the year. I know for a fact you can take down Finn.” He said, trying to lighten her mood.

“I already did, he just doesn’t talk about it.” She said giggling and wiping the tears away as she gave him a hug. He sighed as he wrapped his arms protectively around her.

“She also had it coming. She said I had no morals...and no class....I just couldn’t let her talk that way about me...and about our family.” She said.

“Aye she did have it coming, I’ll agree on that. But you can’t listen to her. There will always be people who’ll say those things. They just don’t understand us.” He said.

“Well, they should work on that then aye? I guess next time I’ll try not to beat anyone up. I’m not promising anything though.” She said, Thomas chuckling as she broke from the hug and went into her room.

“I’ll see what’s going on down there. You just rest. But uh,,,do me a favor aye?” He asked.

“Yeah?”

“If someone does say something, don’t go at them alone. Tell me alright?” He asked.

“Okay...” she said with a sigh, hoping the night could be over with.

“Good, I’ll see you at the family meeting tomorrow then. Bright and early.” He said with a smirk.

“Oh fuck off Tommy...Goodnight.” She said, play-punching his shoulder.

“Goodnight.” He said, putting his cap on and making his way out the door to whatever family chaos awaited him.

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagines #peaky blinders oneshots #peaky blinders fanfic #thomas shelby #thomas shelby x shelby!sister reader #shelby family #shelby family x shelby!sister reader #can u tell I have a lot of pent-up rage?

293 notes · View notes

fanficsandfluff · 4 years ago

Text

The Snyder Cut: Headcanons (mostly of the tickly nature)

Bruce Wayne (Batman) ~ Batfleck, my love

He’s such a lover boy, and I can say that though I don’t exactly know how to explain what I mean. You just gotta understand.

He cares so strongly about EVERYONE. e v e r y o n e. Alfred, fucking loves the guy, jokes with him. The fucking “This is Alfred, I work for him.” MY MAN, STOP!

I think he just really wants to get along with everyone and wants everyone to get along in general.

But he lowkey crushes on Diana (at least in his mind, he’s keeping it lowkey, but we all see what’s happening)

I love the idea of this big hunk of a man getting soft with someone like Diana.

She makes him genuinely laugh this one time by saying something funny, and then they’re both laughing together.

Bruce definitely has one of those laughs where he throws his head back and shit and you can see his like Adam’s apple bobbing and everything.

But that’s if he’s really laughing.

And he has loud “HA”’s that are like really short but loud and then he kinda just snickers to himself for a while, holding his stomach.

And dude, the scene in freaking uhh… i think it’s BvS I’m not 100% (maybe i fucking imagined it who knows) where she like comes over to him and is fixing his wound….. tickle scenario hand picked from the gods right there

I can see a whole, “Woah!” from Bruce when Diana traces her fingers on some sensitive skin. And that Gal Godot smile is on her in an INSTANT.

Bruce will laugh if he’s with the right person. Like I headcanon that if he’s being tickled, he will laugh if it’s done by Diana or Barry, then like he’ll be forced to laugh if it’s Clark bc he overpowers the poor bat, but then he just has these hilarious bouts of angry growls and chuckles if Arthur is going after him.

I can’t even write about Batfleck being a ler because I will literally explode, so I’m done here

(((((butseriouslyifanyonewantstotalklerbatfleckwithmehmuplz)))))

Diana Prince (Wonder Woman)

I know the GIF isn’t from ZSJL but just let me live, ok? (Also I couldn’t find the one of Gal wiggling her fingers YOU KNOW THE ONE I’M TALKING ABOUT)

First off, Gal is the most horrible queen of giggles. I’ve seen those blooper reels. My god, girl, how do you keep getting hired?

SHE HAS SUCH A BIG SMILE IT’S LIKE THE ROCK IDK HOW THEIR TEETH AND MOUTH GET SO WIDE LOOKING

Diana will start tickle fights without a doubt.

She’s already very trustful and I also feel pretty handsy with people, especially those she may feel close to. So if she’s playful, you best watch out.

Her favorite targets are Bruce and Barry. I will not take criticism. Diana attacking Barry and reducing him to panicky shrieky laughs is my #1 thought. It’s not even living rent free, I’m commissioning it to be there.

Diana is one to laugh with her victims. She will wreck them and have a great time doing so.

She’ll be ticklish if she wants to be, but it isn’t often she gets pinned and tickled or anything like that.

The guys try to stay away from her or not go after her with tickles for fear of retaliation.

AQUAMAN, CYBORG, SUPERMAN, AND THE FLASH UNDER THE CUT

Arthur Curry (Aquaman)

So…. my man isn’t really ticklish. I really don’t think he is, I feel like his Atlantean genes make his skin a special kind of hard, if that makes sense?

THAT BEING SAID ARTHUR IS THE BIGGEST LER OMGGG

He’ll try and act all cool and ‘whatever’ around the League cuz that’s kind of his persona.

But he slowly gets to like them more and more and his playful side starts to come out.

He’ll tickle Barry out of pure annoyance. Like if Barry makes any kind of comment, he’ll just point his finger out and get that glint in his eye and Barry is sprinting for the hills.

Here’s my favorite headcanon: Arthur will tickle Bruce because he knows it pisses him off when he does it. Bruce will fight back and keep Arthur in his sights at all time and curse and growl at him. And Arthur thinks it’s hilarious.

Arthur as a ler will taunt and tease until the cows come home

“Huh, big guy? What’s that? Ahawww that’s what I thought!... Not so fast/tough/etc. now!... I will wreck you.”

Victor Stone (Cyborg)

Unfortunately… not ticklish. :(

But this boy has the sweetest laugh you will ever hear, and I will die on that hill.

Now that he has friends (superpowered friends, no less), he can slowly come alive and be himself.

I can see Victor not getting involved in tickle fights at first, but at a certain point he’ll be all like, “Okay, step aside so we can do this right” and just PIN THE SHIT OUT OF WHOEVER IS BEING TICKLED. His extra robot arms are killer!

Okay, when he laughs for the first time in front of the group, there’s that cliche moment of pause where everything stops and everyone just stares and listens to him. It’s so rare to hear him laugh because the poor kid barely even smiled around them in the beginning.

He SMIRKS

Now hear me out on this…

Okay, so half a face. Great. Weird. We love it. But you can see all of mischievous Victor when the guy SMIRKS. You see his eye squint and you can swear his robot eye gets a gleam of a different color.

Wait honestly as I was writing that, the thought of Victor’s eye and like his apparatus changing color based on his mood is golden.

Me sitting here, lowkey wishing Victor’s robot body had some kind of cuddly mode like Baymax lmfaoooo

Like the defense mode his body went into when he was around resurrected Supes, but for cuddles and being cute.

Clark Kent (Superman)

I was debating even including any headcanons for Superman bc I don’t care about him much, honestly.

I am v happy they kept in the whole ‘him staring at Flash through the speed storm’ scene bc I laughed so hard at that the first time i saw Josstice League in the theater.

Also I didn’t really like the black superman costume??? I’m not a comic buff, so I’m assuming that’s why. I am like the one person who missed the color from the Josstice League cut. Don’t miss the stupid red sky in the finale, but I miss every other ounce of color that was just SUCKED right out of the Snyder Cut.

Clark and Bruce are besties now, I don’t make the rules. Bruce bought the man his house back. By buying the bank. He’ll take care of him.

And I’ve always simped for those two ever since BvS, bc I’ve already written like two fics where they tickle each other.

Clark overpowering Bruce to tickle the shit out of him makes me so happy lol. Big strong boy Batfleck looking thiccc over here… but put him against Superman and he’s donezo. Because as mentioned earlier, I do think Bruce is pretty ticklish.

But Clark can have his lee side when he’s feeling nice

He’s got that mighty chuckle, almost like how Thor might laugh.

And he really likes getting involved in tickle fights with the League. He knows all of them are sorta afraid of him on the daily anyway, but have that power added to a tickle fight and it’s fun as hell.

He’s gotten taken down by them ONCE. And I mean exactly (1) O N C E.

They all teamed up. Bing, bang, boom. Pinned him to the floor and they each took an area of skin and fucking SQUEEZED AND WIGGLED. They were trying to incapacitate him as quickly as possible. And dangummit, he laughed a lot! Like Clark realized just how ticklish he could feel if he wanted to feel it.

And don’t even get me started on Lois, he’s big on getting her to giggle and she likes toying with him and running her hands all over his body (bc who wouldn’t?)

Barry Allen (The Flash)

I waited to write about Barry last because I have so much to say about this character....

and then I fell asleep and waited until the next day to write anything down about him so now I’m totally not in the mood and I forgot all the salient points I was planning on making.

fuck you, michelle.

I got a weird relationship with this character. He was mad annoying in the Josstice League. Thank goodness they trimmed his bad jokes down.

But now....

when he got hurt at the end and he was like crying and shit oh my god I wanted to hug him

His character got so... good

And I’m now at the right age where I can think about myself in a relationship with this character with no changes or shame

We both out here trying to find that one good job after college and everything

BARRY JUST WANTS FRIENDS, GUYS

HE’S THAT CUTE

And then he got this whole found family schtick with the Justice League!!! Lookit him!!! Thriving!

He has total little brother energy

like, pesky little brother. Bothers everyone, looks over people’s shoulders while they’re deep in thought or concentrating on something.

Asks a lot of questions.

All the more reason for the gang to want to tickle the shit out of him.

Barry just reads like a super ticklish lee. Like his whole character.

Maybe touch starved because he said he needed friends, and I don’t think he has siblings??? (sorry if i’m wrong about that, comic fans)

I already named some of my fav headcanons about him getting tickled by like Diana and such, and I’m sticking with it.

Barry does flee. He runs away with super speed.... but sometimes he just kinda wants the tickles so he lets them have at him.

The chase is all part of the fun with tickling Barry, though. That’s what makes it so entertaining. And Barry isn’t afraid to be a little shit about it either. He will super-speed around his pursuers and poke their sides and tickle them back really quickly before they even know what’s happening.

Barry doesn’t exactly hold back his laughter lol. He’ll protest and scream and squirm like crazy, but once he’s actually tickled, he loses it.

Pure boy. With funny ass facial expressions.

And it really doesn’t help that I never realized just how hot Ezra Miller is, even though I heard he’s not a great person irl. Oh well.

THAT’S ALL FOLKS!

Please please let me know if y’all have things to add, to squee over, to question me about... please. anything. i’m here for you. thanks for reading, guys!

79 notes · View notes

beautifultypewriter · 4 years ago

Text

Arthur Shelby Fluff Alphabet

Requested: Yes / by my absolute fav @fandom-puff and also an anon

Warnings: Some mentions of alcohol and Arthur’s issues

Full credit to whoever created this template (I still don’t actually know who that is). Gif credit to the owner. Also, I changed the prompt for letter Q from quaint to quickstep.

Also, I love this gif? It’s so soft.

A = Attractive (What do they find attractive about the other?)

Arthur loves your hands. He loves the softness of them and the gentleness of your touch. He finds so much comfort in standing before you, your hands resting gently on his face as his eyes slip closed and he holds your wrists. Then you start to rub small circles on his cheekbones, and he swears he could die a happy man right then and there. He loves taking your hands into his and he especially loves to press kisses to your knuckles and palms.

B = Baby (Do they want a family? Why/Why not?)

Absolutely wants to have babies with you. He thinks you’d be the most incredible parent and he can’t wait to see you with your children. Family is extremely important to Arthur and he wants to have one of his own, so he’s down for kids whenever you are. There is that little voice in the back of his head telling him that he’s going to turn out like his own father, but it’s quickly silenced by you. Arthur sees how strong and caring you are and he knows that he can do anything so long as you’re right there by his side.

C = Cuddle (How do they cuddle?)

He’s all limbs and he’s lean, but he loves to cuddle. Usually, the two of you only ever cuddle when you get into bed after a long day. You two face each other and he’ll pull you close to his chest. One of his legs will tangle with yours and his hands will move to the back of your head, getting tangled in your hair. Your hands will rest on his chest or cup his face and it’s so quiet and peaceful that he never wants to leave.

D = Dates (What are dates with them like?)

Arthur is more into low-key dates. He will, on occasion, take you to a fancy night club, but those nights are few and far between. He prefers more quiets nights with you where he doesn’t have to fight other people for your attention. The two of you go to the Garrison a lot and sit in the private room, drinking and talking. Arthur loves to take you for drives around the country because it gives the two of you the chance to be alone (which is his favorite). Honestly, though, Arthur will pretty much do whatever you want, so you two have gone on a lot of different types of dates.

E = Everything (You are my ____ (e.g. my life, my world…))

Home.

You are the most important person to Arthur. You are warm and safe, and you don’t judge him. These are all things that Arthur associates with the perfect home, so to him you are the perfect home. He doesn’t need much else if you’re there.

F = Feelings (When did they know they were in love?)

Arthur first knew he was in love with you the first time he brought you home to meet his family. The Shelby family is a bit chaotic and can be a bit intimidating, especially to people who haven’t known them for years, so Arthur was a little bit nervous to be bringing you to dinner at Polly’s. He didn’t want them all to scare you away. He was pleasantly surprised when you not only held your chin up the entire time, but you were kind to everyone, treating them like they were any normal family and like you weren’t frightened of them at all (which he later learned you really weren’t). Arthur watched you sit at the dinner table and hold your own with Polly and Tommy and he watched you smile at everyone and ask them questions and he just knew. He knew that you would fit perfectly into his life and he only hoped that he’d fit perfectly into yours as well.

G = Gentle (Are they gentle? If so, how?)

Arthur tries so hard to be gentle with you. He has his issues. He knows this, but he would never intentionally hurt you, so he takes extra care to be gentle. Sometimes, if Arthur’s had a bad day, he’ll hold you a bit too tightly. He doesn’t mean to do it and he’s quick to loosen his grip, his movements becoming slower and more purposeful. He just wants to be as gentle with you as you are with him.

H = Hands (How do they like to hold hands?)

Arthur absolutely adores the feeling of your hand in his. He will take any moment he can to hold your hand and he does not care if it’s inappropriate for the situation. Family meetings? You’re sat next to him and Arthur has your hand clasped in his. Walking home from the Garrison? Arthur has a tight hold on your hand as the two of you stumble down the cobblestones. Arthur’s hands are always really warm, so if your hands are cold then he will happily warm them for you.

I = Impression (What was their first impression?)

When Arthur first saw you, his thought was that you didn’t quite fit into Small Heath. You were this light that stood out from the gray smog and he wondered what you were doing in such a dull place. What had brought you here? When you smiled at him, though, he found that he didn’t quite care, he was only glad that you were there.

J = Jealousy (Do they get jealous?)

Oh yes. Arthur has a lot of insecurities and he’s not always in the right headspace. This can translate into jealousy if he sees other people trying to make a move on you. His first instinct is always to storm over and pick a fight with the offender. Whether or not he actually does this depends on how much alcohol he has consumed. Drunk Arthur almost never makes good decisions, so if he’s had a lot to drink and he sees someone flirting with you, you can bet that he’s going to start throwing punches. He always feels really bad about it later and he avoids your gaze out of shame. Sober (or Mostly Sober) Arthur has better impulse control, so he’s able to hold himself back a bit. He still storms over, but he gives the offender the chance to back off before he gets physical. He wraps an arm around your waist and tells you that you look beautiful. All of this stems from the thought of losing you which is the scariest thing to Arthur. He can’t lose you and if his brain is muddled then he’s willing to do anything to make sure that doesn’t happen. He knows it’s wrong though and he’s promised to control himself, which he is making progress with, it’s just going to take some time for him.

K = Kiss (How do they kiss? Who initiated the first kiss?)

Arthur’s kisses are usually needy and fast at the start, but they always melt into something deep and comforting. He wants to be as close to you as he can whenever he can and that comes out in his kiss. Once he’s had a minute to relax and melt into you, though, he’s much calmer and he’s able pull back a bit and gain better control.

You initiated the first kiss. Arthur had come over to your place for dinner and he had been exceptionally quiet, obviously nervous about something. You had found the entire evening comical as he tried to hold a normal conversation with you, but getting tongue tied at the oddest moments. Finally, you just looked into his eyes, “I’m going to kiss you now, Arthur.” And you leaned across the table and pressed your lips to his. He was shocked, but he kissed you back, chasing your lips as you pulled away. You smirked at him, “Feel better?” He nodded and lunged across the table, capturing your lips again.

L = Love (Who says ‘I love you’ first?)

He did. It was after he had been in some fight that you didn’t ask too many questions about and you were patching him up in your kitchen. He had stumbled through the door and you quickly grabbed your first aid kit and sat him down in one of the chairs. It was quiet between the two of you as you cleaned the blood from his face, slowing your movements when you noticed him wince. He watched you intently as your eyes roved over his face, not once meeting his eyes. That’s when Arthur grabbed your wrists, halting your movements and causing you to look into his eyes. He leaned into your hands, “I love you.” You smiled at him, watching his eyes close before pressing your palms lightly against his cheeks. His eyes flew open and you nodded at him, “I love you too, Arthur.”

M = Memory (What’s their favourite memory together?)

Arthur’s favorite memory is of the moment the two of you first met. You were walking down Watery Lane and he had been so distracted by you that he accidently bumped into you and almost knocked you to the ground. He cursed himself and made sure you were okay, getting ready to scurry away, embarrassed, but you stopped him. And you smiled at him and he felt a flutter in his chest, and he knew he needed to see that smile again. This is his favorite memory, the first time you smiled at him.

N = Nickel (Do they spoil? Do they buy the person they love everything?)

He tries to because he’s Arthur and he feels like he needs to take every opportunity to show you how much he loves you. Usually he buys you gifts when he’s done something wrong and he’s working hard to make it up to you. You always try to tell him that it’s unnecessary, but he just brushes you off with a smile and a kiss to the temple, telling you that nothing is too good for you.

O = Orange (What colour reminds them of their other half?)

Pink

You are light and comforting and full of love. When Arthur looks at you, he is reminded of everything good and wonderful and a certain softness overtakes him. A softness best associated with the color pink.

P = Pet names (What pet names do they use?)

‘Love’ is a big one with Arthur. He just loves you so much, he has to let you know (by literally calling you love – he isn’t subtle). He calls you ‘love’ all the time, it kind of just slips out after your name, “Y/N, love.” Another one that Arthur likes is ‘darling.’ He doesn’t use this one as much as ‘love’ which actually makes it a bit more special when it slips past his lips. This is the one that is mostly used in private. His family has heard him say it maybe twice, but you’ve heard it much more. Arthur gets teased a lot for the pet names, but it will never stop him from using them.

Q = Quickstep (How do they feel about dancing?)

Arthur definitely loves to watch you dance. On occasion, he will take you out to a fancy nightclub and watch you dance. He loves to see how happy and relaxed you become while you sway to the music. You always try to get him to join you, but he shakes his head, saying he’s fine just enjoying the show. This never fails to make you roll your eyes at him and you decide to go back to dancing. Later that night, when the two of you stumble into your home, your shoes in Arthur’s hand, he pulls you close to him. The two of you slow dance on the living room rug, your bodies pressed close together and Arthur’s breath fanning over your face. There’s no music, but you don’t need it; you’re fine with the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

R = Rainy Day (What do they like to do on a rainy day?)

The two of you love a rainy day because everything seems to just slow down. Neither of you are in any rush to get going, so you sleep late and take your time getting up. Arthur steals a few kisses as the two of you cuddle in bed. You make a big breakfast and the two of you sit across from each other, listening to the sound of rain as you enjoy your tea. Arthur smiles over at you every five minutes and when the two of you are done eating, you move into the other room where you sit on the sofa together and talk. Arthur builds a fire to keep you warm and he makes sure that you’re comfortable on the sofa.

S = Sad (How do they cheer themselves/others up?)

Arthur had never been one to try and cheer himself up. He was always one to drown his feelings in a bottle and wake up the next morning, push the headache aside and get back to business. Then you came along, and Arthur started to actually talk about his feelings. He was still pretty guarded, but he let you in enough that just talking to you made him feel better. Kisses never hurt either. When you see that Arthur is caught in his feelings, you place yourself in his lap, your hands gently cupping his face, and you press your lips to his forehead, his nose, his cheeks, and finally his lips. When you’re sad, Arthur just goes straight for cuddles. He knows you like to physically feel that someone is there for you, so he wraps his arms around you and presses kisses to your neck.

T = Talking (What do they like to talk about?)

Other than your day to day talking, the two of you do most of your talking at night when it’s just the two of you tucked away at home. At this time, Arthur asks you to tell him stories. Stories about your childhood or stories about what you see in the future. He loves stories and he loves to lay his head in your lap and listen to you tell them. You always make sure that he knows he can talk to you about anything. He’s usually a bit hesitant to open up about the war or the business, but there have been a few times where the weight of it all was just too much and so he shared some deep feelings with you. You listened closely and offered comfort and it was a really beautiful moment for him to be able to trust you like that. He knows he can tell you anything and you’d never leave him.

U = Unencumbered (What helps them relax?)

In order for Arthur to relax, he needs to be away from other people, in a quiet place, and with no chance of interruptions. Arthur’s mind runs a mile a minute, so it can be difficult for him to calm down. In the past, he turned to alcohol to slow his mind and to numb his body, so that he could find some peace. Now, he tries to use alcohol less frequently because he knows that it’s messing with his time with you. Instead he just tries to find a quiet place where he can cuddle with you and turn his brain off.

V = Vaunt (What do they like to show off? What are they proud of?)

You. Arthur thinks you are the most amazing person in the world and he still can’t believe that you chose him over everyone else and he loves to talk about that fact. Probably more than he should, but he can’t help it. It’s not even like he’s bragging, he’s more in awe than anything else. He still gets on everyone’s nerves though when he gushes about you and how he really doesn’t deserve you, but he has you anyway and that’s amazing.

W = Wedding (When, how, where do they propose?)

Arthur took you on a long drive through the country, pulling over by a babbling brook and putting the car into park. It was quiet between the two of you for some time. You were enjoying the peace and the scenery and Arthur was trying to work up the courage to pull the ring from his pocket. You had noticed his fidgeting, buy you said nothing about it, knowing that he would tell you what was going on when he was ready. The sun was starting to set and from the corner of your eyes, you saw Arthur’s hands moving. You figured he was starting the car up, getting ready to head home. You were wrong though as you saw him turn his body to face yours. As you moved to face him, he started his speech about how you were the best thing to ever happen to him and he didn’t want to spend a single moment without you. Then he pulled out the ring and asked you to marry him. You wiped away the tear that had formed in the corner of his eye and nodded, a quiet ‘yes’ passing your lips.

X = Xylophone (What’s their song?)

Hard to Love – Lee Brice

(I defy anyone to listen to this song and not immediately think of Arthur.)

Arthur knows that he’s not the easiest person to deal with and he knows he makes things difficult sometimes, but he’s so grateful to you for loving him. He thinks he doesn’t deserve you, but he loves that you stay with him. He sees the two of you as opposites in a sense and he wishes he was more like you, softer and gentler, so that he could be someone who deserves you. You always tell him that he’s the perfect amount of soft and strong though.

Y = Yes (Do they ever think of getting married/proposing?)

There is so much love between the two of you that it’s no surprise that Arthur wants to put a ring on your finger. He wants the two of you to be a “proper” family, married with kids and together forever. Now, just because he knows he wants to marry you, it doesn’t mean he’s any good at asking. He’s nervous and worried that you’ll say no, so it takes him some time to actually pop the question, but once he does, he’s completely elated as he hears your “Yes.”

Z = Zebra (If they wanted a pet, what would they get?)

Arthur wants to get a big dog to keep you company around the house when he has to go out for business. He’d also like to think of this dog as some form of a guard dog, so he knows you’ll have someone that has your back when he can’t be there.

#arthur shelby x reader #arthur shelby imagine #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders headcanons #fluff alphabet

161 notes · View notes

sellyoursoulforagoodfic · 4 years ago

Text

Shelbys at Somme: Chapter 7

Thomas X Reader

2873

Summary: Reader gets medical treatment. Thomas is not ok.

by @adventuresintooblivion

They didn’t speak again until the Garrison Pub came into sight. Several men were milling about trying to figure out what the hell was going on. They parted with excited chatter craning their necks to see what Thomas was holding.

“Open the door! If you’re not helping, you’re in the way. Go home. We accomplished what we came here for tonight.”

Only a handful of people remained. Most of them were the Shelbys themselves. Danny paced back and forth in the back of the bar murmuring to himself. Thomas nodded to the small room they conducted their business in. John hurriedly opened it enough for Thomas to set Y/N down on the table.

Y/N sat there swaying back and forth slightly, her eyes closed as she focused on not falling over. Moments later, Thomas draped his coat around her shoulders. A sigh of relief escaped her lips. For the first time, she looked up at the people gathered around her.

Aunt Pol’s face was pale. A shawl was clutched in her hands with her hair unmade. John blinked blearily, but she could visibly see the fatigue drain away as he took stock of her injuries. Arthur simply wouldn’t look at her.

Thomas hovered over her protectively. She could just barely see the redness on his cheek where she’d slapped him. His hand rested lightly against her lower back. She could feel his hand shaking even through all the layers.

“The doctor is on his way but there’s a few things I need to ask you before he gets here.”

Y/N shook her head, “I want to talk to Pol first.”

He stiffened. “Excuse me?”

She lifted her head, leveling her gaze at him, “You heard me, Shelby. I want to talk to Pol first.”

“Did he touch you?” He growled almost under his breath. Something about him changed. His knuckles turned a stark white as they gripped the table. His lips pulled back in an inaudible snarl, eyes wide as he used every inch of self control he had left not to turn on his heels and find whoever had done this.

“Wha…?”

Thomas roared a tremor visibly running through his body, “Did he touch you!”

Understanding dawned on Y/N. She reached out to lay her hand on his. He recoiled. She leaned forward just enough to press her hand over his. Her skin was ice against his rage, but he did stop shaking once she rubbed her thumb across his knuckles.

She spoke softly, “He didn’t. But that doesn’t change the fact that I need to talk to Pol.”

He turned toward her, almost pressing his forehead into her shoulder. “I need answers.”

“And you’ll get them. After.”

Thomas locked eyes with her. Finally, he straightened and led his brothers out of the room.

Pol was left behind, her eyes wide as she adjusted her shawl. “That’s the first time I’ve seen Tommy listen to anyone when he’s like that.”

Y/N glanced down

“Well, you wanted me to yourself. Now what is it?”

“I think Grace is working for Inspector Campbell.” Y/N said it all in a rush, not trusting herself to actually speak if she took her time with it.

Today, the inspector had wanted to instill fear in her and make her a useless pawn in this game of his. She hated to admit that she was in fact afraid. Of what she wasn’t sure, but she’d be damned if she let that decide her actions.

Pol cleared her throat. “That’s… a serious accusation. What is your proof?”

Y/N steeled herself before telling Pol everything. How she’d seen Grace at the opera, the little hints here and there that it wasn’t a place she’d normally be caught dead in. Then the great reveal of the man’s identity.

“I watched her hand him a piece of paper. I don’t know for certain that she is working for him, but it seems like the only logical answer, and at this point it’s dangerous to keep it to myself,” she finally finished.

The whole speech had taken a lot out of her, and she was already exhausted at best. Y/N pulled Thomas’ jacket closer around her, grateful that she was finally starting to warm up. At the edge of her senses, she caught a whiff of a smell that was distinctly Thomas. Stale cigarette smoke, aftershave, and hay. She almost smiled as she remembered the horses he loved so much.

Pol rubbed her eyes with the palm of her hands. “That’s a lot of information to deal with. Why haven’t you told Tommy?”

Y/N frowned, “Right now if I did he’d storm off to kill her. I’m not sure that’s the best idea. Hell, maybe turning her in and ending this now would be preferred. I just… I wanted to ask your opinion.”

Her head jerked up. “This is your business. I’ll have nothing to do with it.”

Y/N sighed, finally letting the exhaustion cause her to sag in on herself, “Well, fuck.”

“I can’t believe you told me this. I won’t be caught complicit if he finds out,” she hissed.

“Pol, I’ve seen the way he looks at her. He likes her, even if it’s just a little, and with Thomas that means miles. This could destroy him. Or it could get one of them killed, and I don’t know if Grace worked at an opera house and just hates it from exposure and this is all some huge misunderstanding. I just don’t know.” Even to her ears Y/N sounded a bit hysterical.

Pol began to pace, thinking. Her heels clicked loudly on the floor, and even if the boys weren’t listening in they’d be able to hear that. After a few solid moments Pol rounded on the wounded girl.

She shook her finger at Y/N. “Listen here. For now, we say nothing. But if ANYTHING goes wrong and Grace is within ten miles of it, you tell him. Understood?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Alright, now let's get those boys in here. He’s probably about to strangle Arthur.”

As soon as the door knob clicked, Thomas stormed back in. His eyes were dark and cloudy as they traveled over Y/N’s exposed skin. Behind him, a small man with glasses shuffled in.

He spoke with a nasally voice, “Hello, I’m Doctor Tanish. Now if you could remove your coat I’d like to get to work.”

Y/N reluctantly shed the layer of warmth she’d built during her conversation Pol.

The doctor immediately swooped in, clicking his tongue in disapproval. “Are there any pre-existing medical conditions I should know about?”

Y/N glanced at Thomas before turning to the doctor. “I have a bullet that’s lodged in my back that’s an inch to the left of my spine by vertebrae T11. They uh… found it and got me with a billy club. A couple times.”

He paused. “That’s very specific.”

“Yeah, well, you hear doctors say it enough eventually you can parrot it back if you need to.”

He nodded before continuing with this ministrations.

Thomas, who was leaning against the wall, had turned a light shade of green when she spoke. His world was slowly closing in on him, a dark tunnel taking over his vision. It wasn’t until Arthur elbowed him that he was able to regain some control and return to the real world.

Eventually the doctor needed to see beneath Y/N’s underclothes.

Pol shooed them out saying, “I’ll be right here with her. Let the girl keep some of her dignity.”

Thomas’ hand snaked out to grip hers firmly. “What did you two talk about?”

Pol’s lips settled into a thin line. “I will not betray her confidence. Just have faith, Tommy.”

He released her, allowing himself to be pushed back out into the pub with the others.

Arthur growled under his breath, “You’re gonna want a family meeting as soon as that doctor is done aren’t you?”

“Am I that predictable?”

He just grumbled and went to take a nap in one of the stalls. John soon followed suit, not really sure what his stakes were in all this.

But Thomas sat at the bar nursing a glass of whiskey. He couldn’t make out much in the way of sounds. That’s why they like that room so much. There were a few moments when a yelp or shout would set him on edge. But all he could do was wait.

It wasn’t until the sun had started to come up that the doctor slipped from the room, blood covering his hands. Thomas sat up straighter, not realizing just how much he’d drunk until he tried to stand.

“How is she?”

Doctor Tanish let out a tired sigh. “Exhausted. Most of the damage will heal itself just fine; however, there are a few spots that I am concerned about. Will you be taking care of her?”

Thomas was a gang leader. He didn’t have time to be coddling people while he was supposed to be out managing things.

“Yes.”

Doctor Tanish nodded, pulled out a piece of paper and began to write. “She has three fractured ribs and another one that was popped out of socket, but it’s back now. Her toe was also broken; that’s been splinted. There was some minor internal bleeding, but that’s been addressed. The thing I’m most worried about is that bullet in her back.”

Bile rose on Thomas’ tongue. “Is it that bad?”

“Well, it was already something that could cause chronic pain and difficulty walking. Now that it’s been agitated, the muscles around it have swollen which would lead to temporary paralysis. Honestly, I’m surprised she’s up and around at all.” He tore the paper of a small notepad and handed it to Thomas, “I’ll have medication waiting to be picked up by the end of the day. I’d get it here earlier, but she insisted that she wouldn’t take opium. Under no circumstances let her walk.”

Thomas nodded dumbly, not exactly sure how to process all the information, but as the doctor left he glanced down at the paper. Detailed instructions were scrawled out in handwriting that was little better than chicken scratch. Luckily, John’s scrawl was also atrocious, and if Thomas could read that, he could read anything.

The door was left open. As he looked at it’s gaping maw, something inside him wanted to run. If he didn’t go in, she would once again become a ghost that haunted his memories. He wouldn’t have to face the words he’d said that night, or back then.

He took a deep breath and walked in. Thomas was a Shelby after all.

〜

Y/N had stopped paying attention to the doctor a while ago. Between the war and her childhood, she’d gone through all this before. Pol on the other hand looked like she was having a rough time. At one point Y/N even caught herself reaching out to hold the older woman’s hand.

“It’s going to be fine, Pol.” Her voice didn’t even quiver.

Pol nearly jumped out of her skin. “Shouldn’t I be saying that to you?”

Y/N flashed her a wicked grin. “Eh, getting hurt comes with the territory.”

“With knowing Tommy.” Pol’s gaze fell. A deep sadness had made a home for itself. It was in the small things. Her posture, her subtle frown, but most of all her eyes. Eyes that Y/N suspected had seen too many people die.

She gave a small tug to get Pol’s attention. “Actually, I was a bastard long before I met Thomas.” Pol’s brows furrowed so she continued, “Da wasn’t exactly a law abiding citizen. Hell, if I’d been a man I’d probably be in the same position as Thomas.”

A silence settled between them as they both came to terms with Y/N’s past. The doctor didn’t seem to care much about what was said around him. He only spoke to instruct Y/N to move.

Finally Pol spoke, “While I don’t doubt the legitimacy behind your claim, you have,” she paused searching for the right words, “a certain level of education that isn’t typically available to people of our status.”

Y/N shrugged and immediately got scolded by the doctor. “Over-achieving bastard child. Not much else to it.”

Pol leveled her with a knowing gaze but enough had been shared that night. For the rest of the evening they either chatted idly or Pol dozed. The continuous attention was starting to wear Y/N out even beyond her limits.

She vaguely wondered if she was going soft after the war. Then she remembered that she’d been traipsing around town, got kidnapped, beat to hell and walked back on her own. Y/N allowed herself a small smile. Today was a productive day.

“It’ll take a couple months for your ribs and toe to heal but they’ll do it with little assistance. You must stay off your feet however. Especially if you ever want to walk again.” Doctor Tanish’s voice startled Y/N out of her thoughts.

She glanced at Pol’s dozing figure before replying, “I’ve beaten those odds before. But I’ll try not to push my luck.”

He gave her a curt nod and left.

Y/N glanced around the room, grimacing as she remembered that her flat was upstairs. She also had no way to pay for it now until she was healthy enough to work again.

A soft knock got her attention. There by the door was Thomas, peeking his head through as if he were walking into her bed chamber not his office.

“How are you holding up?” Deep circles had carved themselves underneath his eyes. His already drawn features took on a more extreme form in the dim candlelight.

Y/N couldn’t take her eyes off him. “I’m doing pretty well, all things considering. I might need help upstairs, though.”

Thomas cleared his throat before entering the room. He paused a moment to consider the best course of action. Then with little warning he simply picked her up. She bit back a startled yelp, clinging to Thomas as he moved easily with her in his arms.

“Tommy!” she hissed. Y/N couldn’t properly lift her arms to wrap them around him securely, so she clung to the front of his shirt with all she had. Her knuckles turned white instantly.

He simply chuckled. “I think that’s the first time you’ve called me ‘Tommy’ since you got back. Maybe I should pick you up more.”

Y/N could already feel her ears heating up. “Don’t try and distract me with flirting.”

“Why not? It usually works.”

She didn’t reply as they reached her room. With horror she realized that her key was still in the pocket of her jacket. Which was probably in the back of some copper’s car.

Thomas seemed to read her mind, “You don’t have the key anymore do you?”

She shook her head.

He gently set Y/N down, careful not to jostle her. Then produced a pair of lockpicks, making quick work of the shoddy lock. A few moments later Y/N was sinking into her mattress slowly.

Thomas kneeled beside her. She couldn’t see him; the darkness clouded his features. He reached out, fingertips the barest touch against her skin, to brush her hair out of her face.

Y/N would later blame the overall shittiness of the day for what she did next. She leaned into the touch. Her own hand reached up to cup his and press it to her lips. Thomas froze. But he didn’t pull away.

“Y/N.” His voice was gravilier than usual.

She wasn’t sure how long they sat there, but it felt like all the years that had been lost came back to life in seconds, all at once. Something between them had faded over time. Now was the first time either of them had actually reached back out for it. It was a tenderness they’d never let the world see. A secret of the trenches. A dream of what could be.

Eventually, the spell broke, and she released her hold on him. At first he didn’t pull away. Then he stood, ending the moment all too quickly.

Thomas cleared his throat, “I...I need to head out. If I catch you on your feet, I swear I’ll send Aunt Pol after you.”

Y/N chuckled, and pretended her smile was as genuine as she wanted it to be. “I’ll have to be careful and make sure you don’t catch me then.”

He rolled his eyes as he closed the door behind him.

Y/N let the darkness envelope her as she rolled onto her back. Her movements were stiff with pain. Exhaustion seeped into her joints and with Thomas gone there was nothing left to distract her.

For the first time since it’d happened she let her mind wander over the events of the day, a sob ripped itself from her throat. Then another. She pressed the palm of her hand into her mouth in a desperate attempt to stifle herself. But Y/N couldn’t stop the tears from streaming like trails of fire down her cheeks.

#thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby imagine #reader insert #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby imagine #peaky blinder imagine

63 notes · View notes

my-funky-little-cowboy · 4 years ago

Text

@johnmarston I was your secret santa for @rdr-secret-santa I know I’m super late on this, but holidays are a mess here. I hope you enjoy, I wrote kind of a pre-relationship AU thing for Sadie and Arthur in a timeline where the gang went west after Colter.

The Inheritance

Summary: Sadie comes across what could be a really good score, but it means she needs to pretend to be someone else. The gang gives her the go-ahead to follow up, but only if she takes someone along as back up, and may be Hosea knows exactly what he was doing. Relationship: Sadithur (if you squint) Characters: Sadie Adler, Arthur Morgan, Hosea Matthews (minor), Dutch Van der Linde (minor) Themes: Two broken idiots catch feels, heists Words: 6,162 SFW [ ko-fi] || [ ao3 ]

The snow had started to fall as Sadie reached the outskirts of the small town, she dug her heels into Bob’s flanks and hurried up the road, hoping to escape the worst of the storm. Finding a small stable she stopped to see if there was space to put Bob up for the night, the stablehand gladly taking her money and directing her to the saloon.

Sadie welcomed the warmth as she pushed her way into the building, it buzzed with patrons looking to unwind and, like her, escape the cold. She shook the snow from her coat as she walked through the door and found a spot at the bar. Ordering a drink and some food she settled down at a quiet table near the back. While this hasn’t been an intended stop on her scouting trip, she was here and might as well see if there was any cash worth taking for the gang.

She had finished her meal when two men settled at a table near her. Nursing her drink as the men carried on, both of them locals. Sadie had all but written them off as she finished her drink, annoyed that she had wasted her time listening when one of the men asked a question that piqued her interest.

“So, still no word from any of her family?” He took another swig from his bottle and the other man shook his head. “Such a shame, she ain’t got anyone else?”

“Not that anyone can seem to remember. Just her daughter. Will’s been gone, hell, seven years now. God rest him. Miss Maggie moved away before that. We sent word to her, but no response yet.”

“Hell, at this rate we ain’t gonna be able to bury her proper ‘til the ground thaws.” The first man grumbled. “That’s the problem with money. Makes everything take longer.”

Sadie turned slightly to look at the men, taking them both in with a quick glance. An interesting score, but Hosea and the gang may want to hear about this.

The man laughed, raising his glass. “Ain’t that the truth!”

The conversation drifted between a few other topics, occasionally returning to the late Missus Mary Gunderson, as Sadie would come to learn. She pushed herself up from her table, the men having taken their leave for a round of cards. She glanced outside, the snow really having begun to fall, and made her way to ask about a room for the night.

Sadie thanked the young woman who had shown her to her room and closed the door. She draped her coat over a nearby chair and put her gun belt on the seat before taking a seat on the bed. She took a small notebook out of her bag and wrote down what she had heard before putting the journal back into her bag.

Sadie kicked off her boots and laid back on the bed. She thought about what Hosea and the others may have to say about this kind of job.

It had been nearly a year that she had been running with them, all of them trying to run from their past, getting lost in the wild of the west. She closed her eyes, willing herself to sleep, wanting to get on the road early and get back to camp.

-- ❖ --

The sun hadn’t risen yet when Sadie opened her eyes, that pale grey light of pre-dawn giving her just enough light to make out the room. She went about getting ready and collecting her gear, moving out the door and down the stairs into the quiet saloon.

Giving a quick wave to the owner she tightened her coat around her waist and stepped out into the cold morning air. The snow made the walk to the stables a bit more difficult, but she got there eventually. She pushed open the barn door and found Bob in one of the stalls.

Getting him saddled up and paying the stablehand for a few extra provisions, she mounted up and they started on their way back to camp.The trip took most of the day, but Bob picked up the pace as they neared the familiar entrance to camp.

“Who’s there?” A gruff voice called through the trees.

“Sadie.” She answered.

“Well, welcome home, missus Adler.” Arthur replied, appearing from behind a tree, a repeater held loosely in his hand. “Find us anything good?”

She pulled back on the reins and Bob slowed to a stop, she thumbed over her shoulder at the small doe slung over Bob’s back she had managed to snag along the way.

Arthur gave her a quick nod and waved her in before disappearing again among the trees. She rode into camp and got Bob settled, removing his tack and pulling the doe off his back when Charles walked by and offered to help. She accepted, excited to share her findings, and let him take the carcass to Pearson as she put her tack away and went off to find Hosea and Dutch.

She found them chatting quietly in Dutch’s tent, both of them looking up as she approached.

“Missus. Adler, you’re back. We’re glad you’re safe.” Dutch said, pushing up from his chair. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to go talk to John about a job.” He gave them both a quick nod and ducked out of the tent, disappearing into the growing darkness.

“I think I may have found us something as well.” She said. Hosea waved her into the tent and she took a seat across from him.

“Let’s hear it!” He clapped excitedly.

Sadie started the story of the poor woman who had died, leaving behind a sizable inheritance. The only living family that anyone seemed to have known was a daughter that married and left town a long time ago.

Hosea rubbed his chin and she continued, explaining how they had sent a letter out, she wasn’t exactly sure when, but had yet to hear from the daughter. Hosea sat forward, resting his arms on his knees, his fingers laced together and cradling his head.

“It doesn’t seem like many people remember quite what Maggie looks like, so I thought maybe I go to town, pretending I’m her and collect on that inheritance. Money seems easy enough.” She shrugged.

Hosea was quiet a moment as he took it all in, a smile cracking on his face.

“You’d think you’d been an outlaw all your life, missus Adler! You should follow up on that. We will see if we can’t send someone to retrieve that letter.” He paused. “Take Arthur with you, you’re supposed to be a married woman after all.”

Hosea gave her a knowing look as she opened her mouth to argue.

“It’s not because I don’t trust you, just think you could use some back up.” He explained and looked down at her travel clothes. “And see if one of the other ladies can’t lend you a dress. It doesn’t have anything to do with your normal attire, just, the less you stick out, the easier to go undetected.” He held up his hand as he explained.

“I have my own dresses.” She said dryly.

Hosea had a point, she thought, it would be best to have the back up. And what married woman wouldn’t travel with her husband? She told him she would get things ready before talking to Arthur. Hosea laughed and shook his head, she knew Arthur well enough to have it all ready to go before asking, so he couldn’t say no.

She made her way over to the ladies’ wagon, setting down her things. She found Abigail darning some socks and Jack playing quietly with Sean, the bottom of a rather lumpy snowman between them. Gathering together a few items, she pulled a bag from the back of the wagon and began to pack.

“You finally come to your senses and gettin’ away from us rag-tag band of outlaws?” Abigail joked, putting down her work and pointing to Sadie’s bag.

“Sorry, but you lot are stuck with me it seems, don’t see myself livin’ some peaceful city life.” Sadie laughed and shook her head. “Hosea is sending Arthur and I to check out a lead in a town not far from here.”

“Well, I’m happy to hear you’re stickin’ around.” Abigail smiled, she put the sock away and stretched her arms above her head. “I’d miss ya if you left.”

Abigail looked down to Sean and Jack playing near the horses, deciding she could leave him be while she got them both some food. She stood and walked off, leaving Sadie to her packing.

The sun set and the cool wind blew through the camp. The gang gathering together near a few of the fires burning around camp, the soft sounds of Uncle’s banjo carrying through the crisp air. Sadie finished up her packing and joined the gang near the fire.

A heated discussion had started about whether or not Sean could actually beat Jack in a shooting contest. Which had started as a joke from John that Sean had taken offense to, and now John had put money on his son winning, the rest of the gang jumping at the chance. Abigail quickly put an end to the silliness.

Sadie shook her head as the boys settled down, each returning to their food and drink and lighter conversation. She looked around, not seeing Arthur around the fire. She finished her meal and stood up, figuring he would be off by the horses or still out on guard duty, she set off into the darkness to find him.

-- ❖ --

Arthur slung the repeaters over his shoulder and rubbed his hands together, shaking the cold out as he headed back toward the camp. His stomach growled as the light from the campfires came into view.

He dropped the repeater off near one of the wagons and headed for off to get himself some food before wandering over to the small fire near the horses, preferring to be alone as the sound of Sean and John going at it reached him.

He ate quickly, the warmth of the stew thawing him out. The arguing had died down, replaced with the soft strum of the guitar and he looked over at the gang, debating whether he should make an appearance when he saw Sadie approaching.

“Missus Adler.” He greeted her and she shook her head in mild annoyance, he was always so damn polite.

“I’ve told you damn near a hundred times, call me Sadie.”

He didn’t respond, but he didn’t get up either, allowing her to join him at the fire.

“Hosea said you should come with me on a little job.” She held her hands over the fire.

“Oh yeah?” He looked up at her, reaching down and pulling a log from the nearby pile and tossing it into the fire.

“Yeah. It’s nothing too dangerous, but he still said I should take you, as back-up.” She continued. “There’s a small town, about a day’s ride from here. Some rich old widow died, they ain’t been able to find her daughter, and she apparently had a bit of money to her name.”

Arthur raised an eyebrow.

“So, what, I’m supposed to be your doting husband?” He chuckled, standing up.

“That was the plan.” Sadie turned toward him.

“How long you suppose this is gonna take?”

Arthur held his hands out over the fire, curious about the idea of another con. It had been a while since they had done something so theatrical. Hell, it may have even been since he and Hosea had to abandon that job in Blackwater since they ran a true scam.

“Won’t know for sure until we get there.”

Arthur rubbed his chin. No use arguing with Hosea. Plus, Sadie didn’t exactly get on with most of the other men in camp. It’d been rather dull around here, what the hell.

“When we leavin’?” He hooked his thumbs into his belt.

“I think we should head out tomorrow, Hosea will be sendin’ someone out to look for that letter. We can get settled and check out the town.” Sadie settled down near the fire, the warmth from the flames soothing her stiff muscles from the day’s ride.

“Right then.” He sighed. “I’ll meet you by the horses tomorrow.” He excused himself and disappeared into the night.

-- ❖ --

The sun was just coming up over the horizon when the smell of coffee drifted through camp, waking Sadie up. She stretched and slid off her cot, pulling on her boots and coat she slipped out of the tent. The camp was still quiet and the cold night air bit at her nose. She found Arthur already enjoying some coffee and a bowl of stew by the fire.

“Ready to head out?” She knelt down and poured herself a coffee.

“Sure.” He finished off his coffee, shaking out his cup and putting it away. “I’ll get the horses ready, get yourself some food. It’s a long ride, right?”

Sadie gave him a small smile and nodded. Arthur gave her a wave over his shoulder as he left. She drank her coffee and prepared herself a bowl of stew, pulling some oregano from her satchel and sprinkled it into the bowl. Finding a spot near one of the fires she enjoyed the stillness of the camp as she finished eating, soaking up as much of the fire’s heat as she could before the long ride.

Arthur found the horses grazing near the edge of camp, Bodicea looking up as he approached , she whinnied happily as he reached her. He gave her a quick pat on the neck and got her saddled up before moving over to Bob, giving him a small treat before working to get him ready.

The sun had pushed up just over the horizon when they finally got on the road, Sadie leading the way. They rode in a comfortable silence for a while, each of them lost in their own thoughts. Occasionally Sadie swore she heard Arthur humming a tune to himself. It was early afternoon when they stopped to let the horses drink and rest a bit, Arthur took it upon himself to build them a small fire.

He held his hands over the fire, letting the feeling return to his fingers. Reaching into his satchel and pulling out a couple pieces of jerky, he offered a piece to Sadie.

“So, we gonna have a story?” He took a bite off the jerky as Sadie took the other piece.

“We’re a married couple, at least 7 years now. Moved west looking to start your own stables, but working as a farrier until we can save enough. I’m teaching at the local schoolhouse. No kids.” She took a bite from the jerky and looked up at Arthur, who was staring at her.

“Oh, that it?” He said sarcastically. “You got a last name worked up for all that story?” He shook his head in disbelief. Sadie rolled her eyes.

“Thought I’d run those by you.” She snapped back at him playfully, and Arhur shot her a quick glare.

“I was thinkin’ either Colt or Cooper.” She continued. “They seem generic enough, and we won’t have something silly, like Sadie Smith. Or, I guess it’d be Maggie, Maggie Smith.”

Arthur laughed, a deep and genuine sound. Sadie hadn’t heard that laugh from him in a long time, usually reserved for smaller groups. Quiet nights around the fire in the early hours, thoughts clouded by liquor. She chuckled along with him

“Let’s go with Cooper.” He finally said. “I like the sound of that, Sadie Cooper.” The smile still playing on his lips.

Sadie told him a bit more about the situation. The information she had gathered from locals. Arthur asked her if they had a place to stay and Sadie told him there were rooms available above the saloon. They talked out a plan for their initial introductions before agreeing it was time to get back on the road.

The sun was beginning to set when they arrived in town, Sadie led them to the saloon, the snow had started to fall again dusting the main road.

“Can you go in and get us a room for the foreseeable future? I’m going to see about getting the horses some water.”

Arthur nodded, sliding out of the saddle. “Sure thing, boss.” He shot her a sarcastic salute and pushed his way into the bar.

Sadie rolled her eyes and leaned over, taking hold of Bodicea’s reins. She led the horses around back, tying them to the post and making sure they could get some water. She’d take them down to the stables as soon as they could get settled with a room.

Inside the bar was loud, and Arthur grit his teeth, adjusting to the sound. He pushed his way through the rowdy patrons fresh off of work and looking to have a good time. He tapped on the bar, getting the man behind the counter’s attention.

“Can I get a room?” Arthur asked loudly, leaning over the bar.

The man held a finger up to him and he growled in annoyance. Pushing back from the bar he turned to check out the locals. Most of the men were young, throwing themselves at anyone who dared look their way. Arthur felt the temptation to put them in their place.

“Oi, what you want?” The bartender called at him, bringing him back, he turned around.

“A room. Few days.” He grunted at the man.

“It’s two dollars a night.” The bartender sneered and Arthur grumbled under his breath, pulling a handful of coins from his satchel. He counted out enough for a week’s stay and slid them across the counter.

“Fine.” He pushed himself back from the bar as the bartender tossed a key onto the bar. “Which room?”

He snatched the key and put it into his pocket, turning to leave the bar when Sadie called to him.

“Arthur! You get the room taken care of?” She stood near a door that led to the back of the building, he pushed his way over to her through the crowd.

“Yeah” He held up the key. “Let’s get our things up to the room and get the horses put up, before the snow gets much worse.”

-- ❖ --

The suite was cozy and a welcome warmth from the cold night air, the temperature dropping as the sun dipped below the horizon. Arthur put their things down, and shrugged out of his coat, hanging it on a rack by the door.

The room was sparsely decorated, a double bed sat across from a small fireplace with a small couch off to one side. Sadie grabbed her things and crossed the room, turning to look at the bed. She was tired and half frozen, her stomach started to growl loudly and she shivered.

“I’ll take the couch.” Arthur said and moved to light the fire seeing her shiver. “Get out of that coat, it’s wet and you’ll never get warm that way. Come over here by the fire.”

“I should take the couch, I’m smaller.” She countered, tugging off her coat she hung it up and joined him by the small fire. “We should check out the town this evening. I should at least be a little familiar with it, if I grew up here.”

“First let’s get warmed up, get some food, then we can go snoopin’.” He moved toward the door, holding it open for her.

The bar was alive with people looking to relax after work, they made their way down the hallway and to the bar. Arthur pushed in to get them some space, moving to the side to give Sadie space at the bar.

He was surprisingly good at this, she looked up at him. He held out his hand, assuming that he had crossed a line.

“Thank you, Arthur.” She smiled, shaking her head.

She ordered them some food and they found themselves a table in a more quiet part of the room. They talked more about the job as they ate, Arthur seamlessly slipping into the roll of a doting husband. Sadie found herself pleasantly surprised.

Arthur was usually brought along as muscle, but she knew he was more than that. Frequently they were the last two left at the campfires. Each haunted by their own demons, but happy for the company all the same.

Hosea had claimed she needed to take him as back-up, but as the night wore on she couldn’t help but curse the old man for being so sly.

They finished their drinks and split up to talk more to some of the locals, agreeing to meet back in the room before midnight. Sadie took some time to chat with the working girls, who were always a wealth of knowledge, before moving over to the bar and Arthur got himself caught up in a game of poker.

Sadie was the first back to the room, she collapsed onto the bed, it had been a long day and she was starting to regret saying that they should canvas the town tonight. She closed her eyes, maybe she could get in a quick nap before Arthur returned.

She blinked a few times, and sat up. The room was still and the bar below had quieted down, she pulled out her watch, 2:54am.

Arthur looked up from his journal, slapping it closed as Sadie stood.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” Sadie said, wiping the sleep from her eyes.

Arthur shrugged.

“You looked tired, and we can check out the town in the mornin’.” He laid back on the couch cradling his head in his arms.. “Go on now, get some sleep.”

She wanted to argue, but she was too tired...and he was right. She kicked off her boots and crawled to the top of the bed, slithering under the covers and letting sleep take her again.

-- ❖ --

The couch had made for a difficult night’s sleep and Arthur decided to stop fighting it as the sun started to rise. He rolled his shoulders, glancing over at Sadie in the bed. He stifled a yawn and headed quietly for the door. He reached into his bag, pulling a small piece of paper from his journal, he jotted her a quick note and placed it on the bedside table.

A couple new inches of snow powdered the ground as he made his way out of the bar, heading toward the stables. The cool air felt good on his skin, not accustomed to sleeping indoors. The streets were quiet and he got the lay of the land on his walk to the stables

The town seemed nice enough, blue collar, the usual complaints from the poker table last night. Seemed a lot of the town worked for a couple of the bigger farms nearby. He paused briefly as he came to a cross-road outside the stable, reading the sign he heaved a sigh. So, the Gunderson’s owned one of those farms. Great. He pushed open the door to the stables, calling out for a hand to fetch the horses.

Sadie opened her eyes as the light filtered through the window, sitting up she looked over to the couch.

Of course he’s gone

She slid out of bed, reaching for her boots but not finding them where she left them. She looked around, seeing them near the fireplace and she smiled. Such little things. Things most people don’t even notice that he does, the gestures, to show he cares.

Slipping on her boots she found the note on the table.

Went to get the horses, meet me downstairs for breakfast when you’re ready, I’m buying.

She grabbed her coat, sliding it on as she headed downstairs, pocketing the note.

Arthur sat at the bar as Sadie came down the stairs, working on some oatmeal, he turned as she reached the landing, giving her a small wave.

“Did you get any sleep at all?” Sadie asked as she settled beside him at the empty bar.

“Enough.” He said, taking another bite of oatmeal. “ You?”

“Yeah. Tonight, I’m serious, you take the bed.” She flagged down the bartender, ordering herself some food. Arthur grunted, waving her off.

“The horses are outside, we can take a ride around town when you’re done, acquaint yourself with the town.” He changed the subject and she rolled her eyes.

“You know, some local boys last night told me they work up at a local farm.” Arthur looked over at Sadie, taking another bite of his oatmeal.

“The girls told me something similar.” she responded. “That most of the town works for a couple of the big farms around the area.” The bartender returned with Sadie’s food and Arthur tossed a couple dollars onto the bar.

“The Gundersons own one of the farms, you know.” Arthur said matter-of-factly.

“That is gonna extend our stay.” She sighed and Arthur nodded.

“It will.” He agreed. She was quiet a moment before she chuckled.

“Could keep it goin’, hire people to run it? Keep the income?”

Arthur raised an eyebrow, cocking his head slightly. It wasn’t a bad idea, and ongoing income? They might as well be stand-up, law-abiding citizens. They’d have to run it by Hosea and Dutch, if nothing else they’d get a kick out of the idea.

“It’s not a bad plan. Hell, I wouldn’t say no to some reliable cash comin’ in, and legitimate too? Sign me up! Though, we should send a letter to Dutch and Hosea, get their opinion.”

He looked over at Sadie, she was a survivor, a flower blooming from the ashes of her old life. Driven by this rage that scared even him from time to time. But there was a kindness in there still, he saw it. When she interacted with Jack and some quiet mornings, when she thought no one else could see, she would sit with the chickens, talking to them gently. She had convinced herself she had lost this kindness, but Arthur saw it, even if she didn’t.

They finished up their breakfast and headed out into the cool winter morning Bob and Boadicea huffed as they approached, shaking out the cold. Arthur gave each of them a pat before they mounted up.

“Take a walk around the town, then head to the sheriff to see if they can point us to who we need to talk to about collectin’ on that inheritance?” She asked and turned Bob toward the road.

“Sounds like a plan, once we know you can head over and I’ll drop a letter to Hosea with what we should do about the farm. I can meet ya after.”

-- ❖ --

The sheriff sat outside the small building at the edge of town, lazily watching passersby as they made their way into town.

“Excuse me, sheriff?” Sadie called, pulling Bob alongside the porch.

The sheriff sat forward, tilting back his hat. “Ma’am?”

“I ain’t been in town a while, but I got a letter sayin’ my ma died and they needed to talk to me about her will? You know who I need to talk to?” Sadie exaggerated her drawl.

The sheriff stood up, pulling off his hat, his eyes sad.

“Miss Maggie. I’m so sorry about your ma. She was one helluva lady.” He worried the brim of his hat. “I think mister Edgarton down at the bank is who you’re lookin’ for.”

Sadie flashed him a small smile before thanking him for his concern and his help. She turned Bob back toward the road.

The inside of the bank was quiet, empty except for her, some guards and the teller.

“Good morning, ma’am. How can I help ya today?” The teller greeted as she entered.

“The sheriff sent me this way. I’m Maggie Cooper, uh, Gunderson. Someone sent notice that my ma died?” She held her hat nervously in her hands, her brow knit.

“Oh! Miss Gunderson! Yes! Hold on, let me get mister Edgarton.” The teller turned and disappeared into a back room.

Sadie glanced around the bank, greeting the guards as she walked the space. Time seemed to stand still as she waited, the guards watching her every move. A few minutes passed and the back door opened, two men emerging from the back.

“Miss Gunderson, this is mister Edgarton, he handles our business accounts.” The teller excused himself and moved back to the desk.

“Miss Gunderson, what a pleasure. We were worried, we didn’t know where you’d taken up residence.”

“Mail moves a little slower out west. Our little town only got it’s own post about a year ago.” She laughed airly. “It’s real nice to meet you mister Edgarton, sorry it weren’t on better circumstance.”

He nodded. “Your mother was a real firecracker, real savvy businesswoman. Took over and ran things better than your pa, God rest ‘im.”

Sadie was sad she never got to meet this woman, and almost felt a tinge of guilt stealing from her. A powerful woman in a man’s world, she knew a thing or two about that.

“Ma was always a shrewd woman, nothin’ ever got by her.” She replied, as mister Edgarton gestured for her to join him in his office in the back.

The room was small and cramped by the large desk in the center, he motioned for her to sit as he rounded the desk.

“If I’m being honest miss Gunderson--”

“Please, call me miss Cooper.” She said gently.

“Apologies, miss Cooper.” He corrected. “I’ve not had to deal much in these kinds of transitions. Most the farms around here handle their own finances, but when your mother died, they came to me.” He shifted uncomfortably. “She named you as the sole beneficiary in her will, in hopes that you would return to run the family business.”

“Ah. There was always a catch with her.” Sadie mused. The woman had been a shrewd businesswoman.

“The house, their accounts, and all the land has been left to you.” He read from the small piece of paper he picked up from the desk.

“My husband and me, we don’t make enough money to have a bank account.”

“You might think twice about that now.” Edgarton interjected, sliding a ledger across the table to her.

Sadie stared at the number on the page, her mouth dry. “There, there must be some kind of error here. The farm, it was, not even ten years ago, we was almost out of money!”

It was getting harder not to be impressed with the late Mary Gunderson. Sadie had never seen a number that big. Arthur was going to have a fit when she told him.

“Like I said, your mother was quite the entrepreneur.” He pulled back the ledger and shuffled through a few other papers on his desk. “Let me pull a few documents here and we can get these signed over to you.”

Edgarton rifled through the stack of papers on his desk, pulling a few aside before digging into the pile once more. Sadie shifted in her seat as the minutes ticked away.

“Right. So, we can start with the deed to the farm.” He slid the paper in front of her. “Just need you to put your mark here.” He indicated a line near the bottom of the page, handing her a fountain pen.

She made a simple mark on the page, her eyes scanning the document. She pushed the document back. Arthur had said they would need to talk it over with the gang before deciding what to do with the farm, but they could worry about that later.

Not twenty minutes later and Maggie Cooper was a much wealthier woman. She thanked the gentlemen and left the bank. They had agreed to meet back at their room when the business was finished, and she made her way back to the saloon, her heart racing as the reality of everything set in. It had worked, the properties were theirs, the money was their, and damn was it a lot of money.

Arthur looked up from his journal as Sadie opened the door. The color drained from her face as her eyes met his and he stood up, his hand immediately going to his revolver.

He looked over her shoulder as she slid into the room and closed the door behind her turning the key in the lock.

“What’s goin’ on? We in trouble?” Arthur moved toward the door and Sadie shook her head, finally finding her voice.

“No worse, we’re rich.” She laughed nervously. “Arthur, I ain’t ever seen this kind of money!” She pulled the ledger from her bag, shoving it at Arthur.

He flipped through the book, the color draining from his face. “Ho-ly shit!” He flipped the page again, trying to make sense of the numbers. “I thought you said it was a modest inheritance?” He slapped the book closed. “We can’t move that kind of money without getting caught! Shit.”

“There’s also the house.” She held out the keyring the banker had given her. “We can at least see what is there worth anything.”

He took the keyring from her hand. Yes, this felt right, normal. Just another house, just a normal score. He tried to convince himself, the rest they could worry about later, but this? They could do this now.

“Sure, let’s go check it out.” He ran his thumb over the key, handing it back to Sadie. “Here, it’s in your name.”

-- ❖ --

The sun had set when they set out to find the home, looking to avoid the attention, they followed the signs to the farm, finding the house on a hill set just off the road. A comely home, nothing as lavish as the farm’s success would seem to justify. It sat dark and empty on the hill, pristine snow powdering the roof.

The lock clicked and they swung the door open and Arthur stepped inside, lighting a small lantern by the door. Sadie stepped inside and closed the door, the house smelled of disuse. She found another lantern in the kitchen and lit it, pulling open the cabinets.

Arthur had moved to a room off the main living room and had started to comb through the space. Pocketing various bits and bobs, whatever he found of value. The room was sparsely furnished, probably once belonging to the actual Maggie. He lifted the mattress, feeling along the seam for a slip stitch, but came up empty. Convinced the room held nothing else of value he returned to the living room.

Sadie had cleared the kitchen and moved to the fireplace when Arthur returned, moving past her and up the stairs. They worked methodically, clearing each room quickly and completely, not bothering to take stock in the moment. Snuffing their lanterns, they crept out of the house and back down the hill to town.

The saloon was alive when they returned and they were relieved as they made it back to their room undisturbed. Arthur locked the door and took a seat at the small desk, emptying everything he picked up from his bag. Sadie shrugged out of her coat, hanging it by the door before joining him at the table. She dumped her take onto the table with his, before sliding into the chair across from him.

Overall they hadn’t done too bad, a fair amount of jewelry had come from a small jewelry box in the master bedroom, adding to the large stack of cash that Sadie had found in the fireplace. The rest was small odds and ends worth a bit of cash, but nothing of import.

“Not a bad haul.” Arthur said, sitting back after separating it all. “Though, compared to the cash…” He looked up at her. “What are we gonna do about all that.”

She knit her brow. “I actually had some thoughts on that. I told the banker that we had settled in a small town out west. We can say we are pullin’ money to get our stable started. That shouldn’t draw too many questions.”

Arthur rubbed his chin, leaning back in the chair. “That could work, and with that, we could probably get a couple thousand.”

“I was thinkin’ about five, a real good haul.”

“What’ll we do about everything else, the farm? Aren’t you gonna need to be here?” He leaned forward again, his eyes meeting hers.

“I don’t think so, the banker said the farm runs itself. And if we leave it be, we don’t put anyone out of work and draw suspicion.” She shrugged.

Arthur cracked a small smile. This might just work! He reached into his bag and pulled out a bottle of whiskey, sliding the bottle to Sadie.

“You know, miss Adler, that sounds like a fine plan! Color me impressed. I think that deserves a drink.”

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #sadie adler #fanfic #rdr 2 fanfic #rdr secret santa 2020 #gifts #one shot #johnmarston

41 notes · View notes

midwinterblinder · 5 years ago

Text

No longer alone

A/N: I’m not sure what this is exactly, but it just sort of poured out. There’s not much of a story in it at the moment, but I might use it for a series about the members of the Shelby family trying to find their place after the war. I’m not sure yet though, I just had to get this out because it’s been living in my head for a while. Anyways, let me know what you think because I’m really not too sure about this...

Pairing: Tommy and family + Shelby!Sister and family (but mostly Tommy)

Tommy slings his bag over his shoulder as he steps off the train. His eyes scan the crowd at the station and he easily spots his aunt and siblings. He’s surprised to see that they’re not all there, one of his sisters isn’t with them. She’s probably waiting at home, Tommy tells himself, someone must have stayed back with John’s kids.

Finn catches sight of Tommy before the rest of the family does and breaks away from Ada, whose hand he was holding. “Tommy!” He exclaims as he makes his way towards his brother with his arms spread wide. Tommy crouches down to accept the hug. After the death of their mother and the departure of their father, Tommy took on the role of a father when it came to Finn and the young boy missed him dearly while he was away.

Finn’s excitement makes him pull away from the hug pretty soon though as he grabs Tommy’s hand to tug him towards the rest of the family. Ada smiles widely as she steps away from the others to greet him. Her arms open as she moves towards him and he places his bag down to accept the hug. He briefly closes his eyes as the contact finally makes him realize that he’s home. The war is over and he’s actually home. His youngest sister holds him tightly for a moment before reluctantly pulling away, aware of the other people waiting their turn.

Polly is next and she wordlessly wraps her arms around her nephew for the first time in years. He hears her sigh as he wraps his arms around her in return and he swears he even hears her sniff as she pulls away. She gives him a warm smile as she moves away, but he can only manage to slightly lift up one of the corners of his mouth in return.

Then his brothers are by his sides, clapping him on his shoulders. “Good to have you home, Tommy.” John says around the toothpick in his mouth. At the same time Tommy feels Finn wrap his arms around him again and he ruffles the young boy’s hair for a moment.

“Now all we need is for Y/N to come back and the whole family will be complete again.” Arthur adds as he steps back and shoves his hands in his pockets. His words cause Tommy to frown for a moment as he realizes his other sister isn’t waiting at home with John’s kids, but is still out there in France.

Tommy knows his company was one of the last to be sent home, so he expected her to be back by now just like his brothers who got to Burmingham a few days before him. He remembers how angry he had been when he received the letter telling him Y/N was going to the front as a nurse.

It was January 1916 and he had trouble opening the envelope with his nearly frozen fingers. He was hoping for some light news, a story about Ada’s failed attempt to bake or Finn getting himself in trouble, but what he read left him screaming in anger. Y/N’s neat handwriting filled the page, which made him smile at first. The first few lines were the same as always. They say that they received his last letter, that they’ve heard from John and Arthur as well and that things at home are going well. It’s the first line of the second paragraph that caused him to tense up:

I know that what I’m about to tell you will upset you, but I really hope that in time you’ll understand why I’m doing this.

Y/N went on to explain that she couldn’t sit at home anymore while her brothers were out there fighting. She wanted to fulfil a part in the war to help her brothers and all the other men that were sent into battle. So she had followed first aid classes at the church and would be going to the front as a VAD (Voluntary Aid Detachment) two days after writing the letter.

Tommy was no longer sure if he was shaking from the cold or from the anger coursing through his veins after reading the letter. He let out an involuntary scream at the thought of his sister coming face to face with the horrors of the war. He hated that she would be going to the front because he knew it would change her like it had already changed him. He knew she would never be the same again and that couldn’t happen, not to her.

Y/N was born two years after Tommy and the two had always been thick as thieves. Their similar personalities meant that they got along incredibly well. Tommy loves all his sibling, but everyone who knows the Shelbys knows that Y/N holds a special place in his heart. He promised himself he would alway protect her and he had mostly succeeded in doing so, but now she was going to war and there was nothing he could do to keep her safe.

Hearing that she isn’t home yet upsets him more than he’d like to admit. He really needs to see her again, to make sure she’s alright even though he knows she probably isn’t. He knows he’s not alright and the looks on John and Arthur’s faces tell him that they’re not alright either. “Have you heard when she’ll be back?” He asks.

“Soon.” Polly’s answer comes a little too quickly and the smile on her face turns from gentle to forced at his question. “Let’s go home.” She then announces as she avoids eye contact with Tommy and starts walking.

Tommy frowns at his aunt’s behaviour. He is surprised by how quickly his brothers brush it off and follow Polly out of the station. Ada knows how strong the bond between Tommy and Y/N is and she can tell that Polly’s words and actions worry him.

“Come on.” Ada says as she smiles and holds out her hand. She waits for Tommy to pick up his bag with one hand and grab hers with the other before she speaks up again. “We don’t know when Y/N will be back yet. We haven’t heard from her in a few weeks, but with everything that’s happening the post has been a mess so I’m sure it’s fine.” She tells him as they follow after the rest of their family.

Tommy nods slowly as he takes in his sisters words. “You haven’t heard anything about her coming home? Not even about other nurses from Birmingham?” He asks and his sister shakes her head, the smile leaving her lips as she realizes that Tommy won’t accept her reassurance as easily as John and Arthur had done when they arrived. She should have known he wouldn’t accept it though, he always had been more perceptive than her other brothers.

“I’m sure she’s fine, Tommy.” She tries again as she gives his hand a slight squeeze and Tommy really tries to believe her.

*****

Tommy has been back for eleven days and there’s still no word from Y/N. He has tried to use his contacts to get information on nurses from Birmingham who are still at the front, but things are still too hectic with people heading home for him to get any trustworthy information.

Polly keeps tiptoeing around the topic because she doesn’t want to upset her nephews just after they got back, but Tommy can tell that John and Arthur are starting to worry as well. They don’t talk about it, but the way they ask Polly if there has been any mail every morning shows him that they’re anxious for her to come back. He doesn’t blame them; the house feels empty without her.

They’re having dinner together, a tradition from before the war that now feels rather forced, when they’re interrupted by the sound of the front door opening. The boys are up in and instant, getting ready to fight off the possible intruder, as Polly and Ada share a confused look. John’s children and Finn have no idea what’s going on and simply stare at the adults in confusion.

“Hello?” A familiar voice sounds from the hallway and the brothers immediately relax as they realize who it is. Polly presses her hand over her mouth as she lets out a chocked sob and tears fill her eyes, her stress and worries finally being let out. Ada’s form relaxes as well and a wide smile appears on her face as she realizes Y/N is finally home.

John is the first one to move, meeting his older sister on her way to the kitchen. “Thank fuck.” He breaths out as he tightly wraps his arms around her. He tried not to show it, but every day without news about Y/N made him more and more anxious.

Y/N hugs him back just as tightly. She lets out an involuntary sigh as he pulls away and lets him take her bag from her shoulder as he leads her into the kitchen where the rest of the family is waiting. As soon as Finn realizes who walks in he’s rushing towards her. Where Tommy became a father figure for Finn, Y/N became a lot like a mother to the young boy.

The rest of the family watches as a gentle smile appears on Y/N’s face and she crouches down to hug her youngest brother. “Did you miss me?” She jokes as the young boy tightly grasps onto the nurse’s uniform she’s still wearing.

When Finn pulls away from her Arthur is quick to move in. “Welcome home, sister.” His gruff voice brings another smile to her face as he pulls her close. Her smile falters slightly when she pulls away from the hug and gets a good look at her brother. There’s a storm brewing inside of him, she can see it in his eyes.

Y/N doesn’t get much time to consider it though as Ada can no longer contain her joy and lets out a slight squeal before she attacks her sister with a hug. As the only two girls they are very close and Ada has missed Y/N dearly. “I missed you so much.” Ada says softly as she holds on to her sister.

“I missed you too, Ada.” Y/N’s answer is mostly automatic. Of course she missed home and her family, but she didn’t actually get much time to think about missing things while she was working. Beside that it also seem like she doesn’t feel things in the same way she used to feel them. She can’t really explain it, but nothing feels the same anymore.

Polly is next and Y/N smiles as she sees the look on her aunt’s face. Polly is smiling and tears shine in her eyes as she pulls her niece close. She had been getting more and more anxious because they weren’t getting any news from or about Y/N, and the stress finally leaves her shoulders now that she’s home safe. Polly isn’t stupid though, she can see her niece isn’t the same. Y/N has the same look in her eyes as Tommy and Polly isn’t sure what life will be like from now on, but at least everyone came home in one piece.

Y/N locks eyes with Tommy over Polly’s shoulder and she immediately recognises the look in her brother’s eyes. She has seen that exact look on many a soldier’s face and even in her own mirror. It seems that even now Tommy will still be the person that understands her more than most, so she gives Polly a final squeeze before she pulls away and makes her way to her brother.

Tommy watches her approach and when she’s in front of him they just look at each other for a moment. He hates that the look in her eyes resembles the one in his, he hates that she had to see the horrors of the war, but most of all he hates that he wasn’t able to protect her from any of it.

When they finally wrap their arms around each other they both close their eyes and let out a soft sigh.

*****

Several hours later Tommy wakes up drenched in sweat and breathing heavily. His eyes move to the wall at the foot of his bed, because even though he’s home and awake now he still hears the shovels. He rubs his hands over his face as he wonders if it’ll ever stop or if he’ll have to live with this for the rest of his life.

Knowing that he won’t be able to get any more sleep tonight, he pulls on a pair of socks and trousers to ward of the winter cold before making his way downstairs. He’s been doing this every night around the same time since he got back but something’s different now; he’s not alone. When he reaches the bottom of the stairs he sees his sister sitting at the table. She’s wearing her nightgown and a pair of socks. A large shawl is draped over her shoulders and her hands are wrapped around a cup of tea.

“Can’t sleep?” He asks and Y/N’s head whips around in his direction. She didn’t hear him come down, something she can blame on the noise inside her head that doesn’t seem to realise that she’s no longer in France.

“I can.” She tells her brother as he makes his way to the table and takes a seat on the chair next to her. “But nowadays I prefer being awake.” She says as she gets up to pour him a cup of tea as well, briefly squeezing his shoulder as she moves past him. Falling asleep isn’t the problem for Y/N. The problem is that when she sleeps she finds herself back in France, so she rather stays awake.

Tommy nods in understanding. “That makes two of us then.” He says as he reaches for the pack of cigarettes and the lighter on the table. “Though being awake isn’t what it used to be either.” He adds as he places the cigarette between his lips and lights it. Nothing he does feels real anymore. It’s like everything has lost its meaning.

“Nothing is what it used to be.” Y/N responds as she places a cup of tea in front of him before she sits down again and pulls the shawl tighter around her. “I wonder if I’ll ever stop feeling cold.” She mutters as she reaches for her cup and takes a sip.

“I doubt it.” He says his eyes meet hers and they both know they’re not just talking about the temperature. They understand each other, even now.

“I miss the noise.” Y/N admits as she looks down towards the tea in her cup. “It kept from thinking.” She explains, not that she needs to because Tommy immediately understood her. “When I close my eyes I can still see them.”

“I hear the shovels against the wall in my room.” He admits to her as he blows out some smoke. “I’m afraid we’ll have to learn to live with that.” He adds as their eyes meet once again.

“Maybe.” Y/N says as she reaches out her hand to place it on his arm. “But at least we’re no longer alone.”

#Shelby Sister #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby one shot #thomas shelby fanfic #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby one shot #shelby family #shelby family imagine #shelby family fanfic #polly gray imagine #ada shelby imagine #john shelby imagine #arthur shelby imagine #finn shelby imagine

251 notes · View notes

kittyknowsthings · 5 years ago

Text

A Nice and Accurate Timeline of the Apocalypse (and its Aftermath)

As shown on the Good Omens TV show

Happy birthday to me, a gift for myself and the entire Good Omens fandom.

MONDAY

Hastur and Ligur check on the Hellhound

Warlock and his mother argue about his birthday party while Aziraphale and Crowley watch.

Crowley suggests Aziraphale could kill Warlock. Aziraphale suggests they go to the birthday party instead.

WEDNESDAY

Warlock's (and Adam's) 11th birthday

3 pm - Hastur and Ligur let out the Hellhound

Sufficient time later for a thorough cake fight:

Aziraphale and Crowley have to admit they've got the wrong boy since the Hellhound, who should be there by now, is not showing up.

(The Hellhound had to get to Tadfield instead of London, it's a bit of a trip, I suppose, since it must be some time later when:) The Hellhound arrives in Hogback Wood between 3pm and 5:00pm, assuming Agnes Nutter and Deirdre Young define teatime the same, but with definitely enough time for

Crowley (back in his usual outfit) and Aziraphale (who had time to get changed and wash the cake off) to have decided to have a drink over their failure at Aziraphale's bookshop (where they have returned, presumably by car, though to be fair, the Ambassador's residence to Soho, which is about 3 miles, at Crowley's typical speed is a matter of a couple of minutes, really) when Crowley announces the Hellhound has been named

Newton is fired, meets Shadwell, is told to show up at his place at 11 o'clock the day after

Anathema is implied to arrive in the UK either Wednesday or Thursday, but a bit difficult to nail down - did they show it chronologically, in which case Anathema arrived before Newton meets Shadwell, or did they alternate the scenes to juxtapose Anathema and Newton more clearly, but Anathema's outfit, make-up and hairstyle are still the same when we see her move into the cottage on Thursday

THURSDAY

Gabriel and Sandalphon show up on Aziraphale's shop to corner him

(The scriptbook implies Crowley stayed at the shop through the night and is only now sneaking out, nearly caught by the Archangels, but it wasn't shown, so follow your bliss.)

Hastur and Ligur check in with Crowley and say their "operatives in the State Department" have arranged for the boy to be flown to the Middle East

The Postman delivers the Sword

Anathema moves into Jasmine Cottage in Tadfield and gets to work

Crowley threatens his plants

Aziraphale is on the phone with someone who wants to buy the Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter

Newton comes to Shadwell's and is initiated so we can assume it is now 11 o'clock

Aziraphale calls Crowley with the idea to check the convent, they take the Bentley together

(If we're assuming 90 mph is Crowley's standard speed, and Tadfield is in about the middle of Oxfordshire, we can assume it took them about 40 minutes. So, either they left later, or Crowley actually bothered to slow down on occassion.)

Anathema meets the Them while scrying for the Antichrist

Aziraphale and Crowley meet Mary Hodges, interrogate her, and ignore the police blockade to leave the former convent at sunset

Shortly after, Anathema is scrying by yet a third method (poor girl)

Anathema's bike and Crowley's Bentley collide, they give her a ride

by the time they arrive at Jasmine cottage, it is fully dark

Anathema has a video chat with her mom

Aziraphale and crowley discuss the possibility of asking a human for help with locating the antichrist over cake

Adam is starting to be reached out to when asleep by infernal forces

Back in front of the bookshop, Aziraphale finds the book and blows off Crowley to read it

FRIDAY Crowley calls Aziraphale to check in

If we are assuming Aziraphale's office clock is correct, it is about 6:45 am when he calls the Young's home phone, the Young parents are having breakfast, and Adam is training Dog

Aziraphale attempts to script an explanation to Gabriel

Anathema invites Adam in

Crowley meets with Shadwell

Aziraphale meets with the Archangels and realizes they have no intention of averting the war, Michael states "The other side are currently transporting [Warlock] to the plains of Megiddo"

Aziraphale claims, to the Archangels, not to be sure about the Antichrist's location even though we saw his notes on the matter include his address

Aziraphale calls in Shadwell, who ignores Newton's quite accurate recognition of the oddness of Oxfordshire's weather

The scales are delivered to Famine

At about 7pm, Crowley calls Aziraphale and suggests the meeting at the Bandstand in "15 minutes"

(When they are actually meeting, it's sunset, but given filming schedules and stuff, I will leave it to you if you decide Aziraphale is really late or the sunset is just early)

During the night, Adam starts actively affecting reality

SATURDAY

Aziraphale intercepts Gabriel jogging at Battersea Park

Michael presents pictures and gets Gabriel's tacit permission to check in downstairs about Aziraphale and Crowley and calls Ligur

Crowley goes over possible escape locations

Lesley delivers the crown to Pollution (the sun is still rising) and the message that it's time to Death

Newton gets sworn in by Shadwell and sent off to Tadfield, he has the accident Ligur talks to Hastur who is supposed to be leaving for Megiddo about his suspicions of Crowley, they decide to find proof

Hastur gets to Megiddo

Anathema is well-prepared for Newton's arrival

5 hours and 48 minutes to the end of the World

Newton wakes up

The Them separate for lunch, agreeing to meet up again after

Warlock is at Megiddo Hastur confronts Crowley, who was having a pity party at a cinema

Anathema catches Newt up, it's about 13:15, and "about 4 hours and 15 minutes" to the apocalypse

Crowley tries again to convince Aziraphale to come with him, fails

Sets up the holy water booby trap

Crowley melts Ligur

Aziraphale appears to have taken a short walk to clear his head, as he is on his way back to the bookshop when he is accosted by the Archangels and the horn is sounded

Adam is starting to really scare his friends

13:30

Anathema and Newton are about to leave, but are stopped by a storm

They start making out under the bed

When the pin in the map starts sizzling, Shadwell realizes he may have sent Newton into danger, and Tracey convinces him to go after him, but Shadwell refuses her money and instead resolves to ask Aziraphale for an Advance

Newton has scruples and asks if he shouldn't buy anathema dinner first, but she quickly dissuades him

Aziraphale contacts Heaven in a last-ditch attempt to ask Her for help, the Metatron quashes his last hopes of Heaven's assistance

Shadwell goes to Aziraphale's shop, sees the late end of the Metatron bit through the letter flap,

Aziraphale calls Crowley but Crowley hangs up on him to deal with Hastur.

Shadwell picks the lock

and Aziraphale, trying to keep Shadwell safe, accidentally steps into the circle, discorporating himself.

Shadwell slams the door on his hasty way out, shaking the ground hard enough to kick over one of the candles in the communication circle setting the shop on fire.

Parallel to this, Crowley finished dealing with Hastur and makes his way to Aziraphale

14:30

Crowley, on his way to Aziraphale's shop, tries to call Aziraphale,

the store is already very on fire

Crowley goes in and tries to find Aziraphale, rescues the book

Adam announces his "new" friends - the horsemen - will be together soon and are on their way

Shadwell arrives back home and is put to bed by Madam Tracey

Aziraphale argues with the Quartermaster and decides to go back to Earth without a body if he has to

4 pm -

Anathema is getting dressed again

Crowley has gotten really quite drunk, having downed an entire bottle of Talisker and asking the bartender for a second by this point

Aziraphale finds him at the bar

The Seance starts

The Horsemen meet up at the café

Aziraphale crashes the Séance and quickly wraps it up so he can get Tracey up to speed

1 hour and 43 minutes to the apocalypse

Crowley is stuck in the traffic jam due to the M25

Shadwell wakes up, Madame Tracey and Aziraphale make him tea

The M25 lights up with Crowley still inside

Lisa from the call center accidentally frees Hastur, who thanks her by eating her and her colleagues

Aziraphale recruits Shadwell, who packs the Thunder Gun

Hastur appears in the car, prompting him to brave the fire out of sheer spite

Adam chases away Dog and the Them, whose rejection makes him snap back to himself. They resolve to stop what Adam started, and to "meet back in 5 minutes"

Anathema and Newt figure out they have to go to the airbase

Aziraphale makes the scooter fly

The Horsemen arrive through the official entrance, pretending to be a surprise inspection

Anathema and Newt sneak in through a hole in the fence a fallen tree has made

Adam and the Them meet up again

31 minutes to the end of the world

RP Tyler delays the Them

The Horsemen take over the base, starting ... everything, basically

17 minutes to the Apocalypse

after asking RP Tyler for directions, Crowley hurries

The Scooter reaches the airbase

Aziraphale argues with the airbase

Crowley arrives making his heroic entrance

(of course Adam and his friends do the real work)

The Bentley explodes

Aziraphale sends off the guard off while Crowley is having a moment

Crowley takes care of the next load of soldiers

When the Sergeant chickens out, Aziraphale attempts to use the gun on Adam, but Tracey stops him

Pepper, Brian and Wensleydale take out War, Pollution and Famine

Newt breaks the system by trying to fix it

Adam confronts Death

Anathema and Newt walk on

Crowley returns the book

Aziraphale receives the prophecy

Gabriel and Beelzebub arrive

Aziraphale and Crowley rules-lawyer them into cancelling the war

Satan shows up

Aziraphale threatens Crowley to never talk to him again, so Crowley stops time, giving Adam enough time to think

Adam rejects Satan, declaring that that is not his father, so Arthur Young appears

After Nightfall, Aziraphale and Crowley wait for the bus, sharing a bottle of wine

Lesley picks up the horsemen's items

Aziraphale and Crowley take each other's hand as they sit down in the bus

SUNDAY

Crowley, already in Aziraphale's body, investigates the restored bookshop

Aziraphale, in Crowley's appearance, is happy to find the Bentley restored

Anathema and Newton wake up together

Crowley and Aziraphale meet at the park and are abducted for each other's trials.

Madame Tracey and Sergeant Shadwell agree to retire together

Agnes has the next book delivered

Anathema decides to burn it

The Them check in on Adam, who is sure he'll be grounded for "years and years", but his parents will have forgotten by tomorrow - his powers to affect reality do not seem entirely gone.

Summer is ending.

Crowley and Aziraphale are sitting on a park bank, they swap back and agree to go to Lunch

They dine at the Ritz to romantic music and toast To the World.

#Good Omens #Kittywritesthings #technically #long post

376 notes · View notes

raisedinerebor · 4 years ago

Text

Pull Me Out

Paring: Thorin x Reader

Song: Train wreck - James Arthur

Warnings: Angst. Fluff. Dealing with depression and mild swearing.

An: This is a request that I got over on Wattpad. I’ve been compiling these stories over there. So let me know if any of you want a link or anything like that!

Tags: @fizzyxcustard

My hands tremble along silken sheets. The color so long faded it's impossible to tell what it once was. Prehaps blue. Maybe a deep green? Did it even matter?

It's been days since i've left this bed. I no longer had the energy to move about. Something as simple as geting something to eat became the most difficult of tasks. Even more so than facing Smaug.

I turn beneath the sheets and breath in deeply. Smoke clung to these forgotten halls like a scholar to their books. I don't think I could begin to tell you where this hollow feeling began to come from. It could be any number of things. Traped beneath this blasted mountain that I once dreamed of seeing. That I had glorified so much in my own mind that it tore me apart to see what she is becoming. Maybe it was Thorins compleate and utter lack of faith within our burgler. Within Bilbo. Our friend. To think the he would try to kill the one who saved his life not that long ago.

But, as I think more on it. It's probably Thorin himself. The dwarf that I once sought safety and solace from now becoming my most feared foe. He's no longer the kind hearted King I knew. The man who put the well being of others above his own. Who promised me a life of plenty.

Who promised me a life of love.

What a joke.

Somebody knocks on my door. What's even the point of answering? The door swings open, rusted hinges squealing in protest. Somebody sighs and a plate scraps across the wooden desk on the other side of the room.

"Lass?" So they sent Dwalin this time. I don't answer. Instead choosing to roll over to my side and peer at him from beneath the covers. He shakes his head and walks over to the bed. "You have to eat lassie. Please. " I snort and cover my head. It quickly grows hot beneath the blankets. The bed dips as he sits down. A large hand rests on my shoulders. Heavy and warm even through the blankets. I want to scream at him to go away and to stay at the same time.

"You're worrying us girl." He breaths heavly and shakes my shoulder. "Please. Just. Just eat." The bed shifts as he gets up. His hand with it. I hear him leave and the door slamming shut.

Dwalin comes out from that room with a million and one worries. Each one worst than the last. A shuddering sigh comes from him as he runs his hand through his beard. Balin is quick to go to his side.

"Well, brother?" Dwalin shakes his head and begins to storm off.

"That poor girl is only getting worse with each passing day. For Mahal's sake! She hasn't ate in almost a week. She hasn't left that blasted room for longer." Balin is almost running to keep up with his brothers longer strides at this point. "She isn't even speaking! Y/n might as well be a dead woman walking." His voice softens as his anger leaves him. Fear filling him as he thinks about one of the few good things The Company has coming to an end.

She had compleatly changed from the happy go lucky thing that they picked up in Hobbiton. A smile for each and every one of them. A listening ear for those who needed to spill their woes. And a steady place to rest for any of them who felt themselves falling in the world. Always ready to make room in her day to make them happy.

Even if it ment giving hers away.

It's time they returned the favour. He knew exactly who to go to, and hopefully, he would be able to pull his own head out of his ass.

Balin looked to Dwalin as they stood before the ornate wooded door. Dwalins usually steady hand shaking as it laid upon it. Waiting to be pushed open.

"Are you sure?" Dwalin grunted and shook his head.

"No. But when has that ever stoped me." With that he pushed the door open and stepped into Thorins' own bed chambers.

The first thing he noticed was how dark it was. A few candles were lit here and there. The fire lit within the hearth. But other than that there was little light to be had. Thorin was sleeping. Not even properly. Still in gilded golden armour and crown. He lay in the center of the bed his feet still firmly planted on the floor.

"Damned fool." Dwalin muttered. So far gone in his own sickness he couldn't find the time to care for himself. He stood right in front of Thorin and after checking there was no sword that he could stick him with, grabbed him by the edge of his armour and pulled him upright. Thorin woke up with a startle yelp and stumbling from the abrubt change from laying to standing.

"What's the meaning of this!" Thorin stumbled backwards. Scowling at Dwalin. Dwalin reached out and grabed his armour once again. Jerking him closer as he all but growled at Thorin.

"You're a damned fool Thorin. A fucking idiot for not seeing what's going on around you." Was he a bit harsh on throwing all the blame on him? Prehaps. Did he care? No. Not really. Not if it ment getting the old Thorin back.

"For the love of Mahal!" Thorin pulled back pulling Dwalin with him as he does so. "What are you going on about Dwalin?" He spat out and grabbed Dwalins wrist. The tattooed dwarf shook his head. The blasted fool.

"Are you so blind in your own desires that you have forgotten the ones you cared so much about?" It was the throne room all over again. Dwalin searched Thorins face for any sense of familiarity. For any sign they would have their king back. And him, his oldest friend.

Thorin shook his head. "I am blinded by nothing. Dwalin." He pulled Dwalin's hand away from his arm with little to no effort. "Now. Go." That was the moment Dwalin pulled his arm back and swung straight at Thorin. Thorin stumbled backwards his hand on his face as he glared at Dwalin. "You-!" He barely even got the one word out.

"You're a daft fucking fool if ye think i'm going to let ye get away with that." His accent thickened in his anger. Calm as it seemed to be. He never raised his voice. Didn't raise another fist as he came to stand before Thorin once again. Foreheads touching one another as he muttered.

"Uzebade*. My brother. The lass is falling apart. Your nephews are terrified and more than half of the Company thinks you to be dying. We are preparing for war, Thorin. We need you. Our king. Our friend. Our family." He pulls away and lays his hand on Thorins shoulder. Eyes glancing over the dark bruise growing along his cheek bone. "More importently though, you have to go talk to y/n. She's pratically wasting away at watching you fall apart. She hasn't eaten in a week. Hasn't left her room for two. And she doesn't speak. Not anymore. After watching what happened with Bilbo. Which, by the way. I am still going to kick your ass for."

Thorin pulled away and looked around the room. Then down to his hands.

"What has become of me, Dwalin?" His eyes fill with tears as he looks up at Dwalin. "What have I done?" Dwalin comes up and takes off the heavy crown on Thorins head.

"Nothing. As long as you pull out of it." Silence.

"Where is the Y/n? Where is my Ghivashel?"

It's the silence that scared me the most. It felt as if I could get lost in it. Be smothered to death by it. I ball the silken sheets in my hand. Got i'm so pathetic. Why can't I get up and do anything? Why can't I do what I have always done and pave my own way in this world. Why can't I just get over this!

I jump when the door bursts open. Smacking against the wall and clattering back to close.

"Y/n." A deep voice breathes out. Wait. I bolt upright on the bed, Thorin standing at the end of it. Gone is the golden gilded armour I last saw him in. Gone is the jaring crown that seemed to weigh him down. He has his furs back along with the armour that he had worn through this long journey back home. "Oh lass." I could feel my chest growing tight. That all to familar lump forming in my throat as I tried to hold back tears. He rounds the side of the bed and reaches out to me. I jerk back and watch as his face falls. His hand falling uselessly in his lap. This close I could see the bruise cradeling his jaw.

"I know that no matter what I say, that it is up to you to forgive me. To decide if I deserve your forgivness." He gets down on his knees and props his arms up on the bed. "Yet here I am. A fool of a man to begging for it. To ask you to forgive me for what I have done. To you. To the others." I sit at the edge of the bed. Right next to him. Neither of us move for what seems like an enternity.

" I was scared. You know that?" My own voice surprises me. Hoarse from the lack of use. Thorin got up and sat next to me. Hand upon my knee. "I was terrified that you were actually going to kill Bilbo. Scared that I. That we would never get you back." The tears fall slowly. One by one. Falling from my lashes and onto my clasped hands on my lap. "Thorin." I look up at him. "I was petrified that I was going to lose you. I know that you were sick. Cursed by deep in your blood. " I bring my hand up to his face. Fingers sofly trailing along his bruised cheek before cradling his face in my hands. His beard scratched at the soft palms of my hands. He seemed to melt into it. Eyes closing as he brought his own hands up to engulf mine.

"But considering that you were not all there. I find it easier to find forgivness within me. For, it any one deserves it, it is you. Thorin. Son of Thrain, son of Thror. And king under the mountain." Tears betray the smile forming on his face.

"I do not deserve it." His voice is quiet. Soft. Scared. I could feel myself shaking as I got up to wrap my arms around him. One hand going to hair the other resting at his back. Despite his words he holds me tightly. Muscled arms circling around my waist as he burries his head into the crook of my neck. I shiver as his hot breathe fans over exposed skin.

"It is up to me, Thorin, to decide if you are worth such forgivness. And you do. So, I forgive you." I squeal as im suddenly thrown backwards. My head bounceing against the matress. Thorin hovers above me. His face just above mine.

"I don't deserve it. I don't think I ever will. I have done to much and said to little. There is blood on my hands that I don't think I can ever wash off. Amarlime." His lips touch mine for but a moment before peppering along my face. At the corners of my mouth and along my jaw. They trail down my neck and onto my shoulder.

"Then let me help you. Just as how you have helped me. And we can wash it off together." We both sit up. Embraced in one anothers arms. He gives me another kiss. This one deep and full of fire. Lighting something up deep inside of me.

"Come. Lets get you some food. And then I can show you the hot springs beneath Erebor." I snort.

"Are you saying I smell?" He laughs.

"No. I'm saying I do and we both need to take care of one another. Pull each other out before we fall in to deep." He kisses me once more. "We still have a sanctum. A home. And it's not to late to build it back."

#thorin x reader #Thorin Oakenshield #The hobbit x reader #the hobbit fanfiction

75 notes · View notes

coeurdastronaute · 5 years ago

Text

Atlantis 7

Previously on Atlantis

The house was a tiny speck on the jagged cliffside overlooking the sea on three sides and surrounded by tall pines, swaying in the breeze. Ever-vigilant, the lighthouse stood tall, casting its lights as far as it could, warning the ships of the rocks and the dangers. A plume of smoke wafted up toward the clouds, adding to the thick cover. The long stretch of wooden planks led down to the docks, carefully maneuvering through the crags and cliffs. A rusty old pick up slept outside of the clapboard cabin while the drizzle started to weigh down the tree branches.

The pair of travelers climbed the steps just as the first drops began to drench the world, and by the time they knocked on the door, it was raining in sheets and blurring the lines of the mountains and sea.

“You going to leave your son and granddaughter out in the rain, old man?” the King of Atlantis asked with a smile as the old lighthouse keeper answered their knocks.

“Maybe the son,” he retorted before quickly hugging the tall girl who smiled at him despite the weather. “Get in, get in. You’re on land now, no need to be soaking wet all of the time.”

The hearth was warm and inviting. The two travelers made themselves at home, taking off the raincoats and letting them drip into a puddle by the door. Lumbering and eclipsing the old man, Arthur took a seat by the window as it did its best to let in some of the breeze to the stagnant room. The older he got, the quicker the home seemed to shrink around his frame. He chuckled to himself to watch Lexa duck slightly to avoid an exposed beam in the ceiling.

The old man smiled, wrinkles picking up and spreading around his eyes. He’d been waiting for this day from the moment he held his granddaughter in his arms for the first time. And every time the world pushed back against the already skittish Atlantis, he saw his connection to his son and granddaughter pushed and strained-- not because they grew distrustful of him, but rather that it was nearly impossible for them to see him when they had to protect their country.

“You’ve been doing good work, son. How’s everything at home?”

“It’s never easy, but we get on alright. Now things are calm, but waiting. Something’s coming, we just don’t know when. Could be months, could be decades.”

“I hope it’s decades,” he muttered as he moved around the kitchen.

Lexa took her time looking around the house. It’d been years since she’d been there, but when she ran her fingertips along the soft, worn wood of the mantle, she smiled and remembered it all. It was an adjustment to be on land, to feel the itchy fabric of her father’s old sweater, to feel the salt of the sea instead of the current of it in her lungs. But she believed in the tactility of memory.

She half-listened to her father and grandfather talk and catch up. Already in the back of her head, she felt a need to fulfill her desire to see Clarke. But the nagging fear of a girl she met nearly three months ago for just three days, not wanting anything to do with her, that was a lot for Lexa to try to ignore. It didn’t matter though. Clarke said she’d be close, and Lexa trusted that. She trusted the feeling in her muscles that seemed to tug her in that direction.

“I’m eager to see it all,” Lexa turned back to the conversation, catching her name and picking up on what they were talking about rather quickly. “I have a friend I’d like to see.”

“Friend, hm.” Her father gave her a look but just took another sip of his iced tea.

“You’ll have plenty of time. I have a few things planned. Want to show you around the docks,” her grandfather explained, rubbing his palm along the few days growth of silver beard. “You sure you can’t stick around to show your kid all your favorite spots?”

“I would, Pop,” Arthur sighed. “But Meera is focusing on the Spindrift, and I’m stretched pretty thin at the Palace and League duties. I already told Lex I’d stop in as often as possible to show her some things.”

“I’ll be fine. I can observe and experience with little guidance,” she promised the pair as they looked at her with a slight, genetically similar glance if skepticism. “I’m a highly trained fighter and received top marks from my studies. I’ll be fine.”

“I have a whole slew of projects for you to help me out with around here.”

“That’s code for free labor and lifting heavy things,” her father informed her as she took a seat with them at the table. “I, too, spent many an afternoon working on projects.”

“Girl is going to run a country, she should know how to patch a roof and change a tire,” the elder defended himself.

“If it’s okay, I’d actually like to see if I can find Clarke--”

“Her friend,” Arthur supplied.

“How do you know anyone from Land?” her grandfather furrowed.

“Lexa rescued her first damsel.”

“Oh,” he nodded, thinking it over. “Must be in our genes. Your grandmother was just a damsel once upon a time.” The look that clouded his face was somewhere between joy and pain, both simultaneously and tinged with the other.

“Maybe the only time in her life,” Aquaman chuckled. “She hated that story.”

“It was one of my favorites.”

The father and son smiled at each other before looking away, thinking innately about the woman who’d been gone for a few too many years already, the Queen, the wonderful mother, the unbelievable wife. Lexa never knew her except for stories, and she was excited to hear more, though she knew to be careful. Her grandfather was a quiet man, who did not waste his words, nor did he speak if he wasn’t ready with one of them.

“Why don’t you settle in for the night?” her father tried. “Reach out to Barnes in the morning and see if you can get some information.”

“I already did. I just want to see--”

“Oh, let her go,” her grandfather smiled, softer to his granddaughter than he’d ever been to his son. “Damsels are a rite of passage, and you know better than to keep one waiting.”

“Thanks,” Lexa popped up from her chair happily. She kissed her grandfather and father’s cheek before making her way out the door. “Barnes should be here any minute. Love you both!”

“You were never that nice to me growing up,” Arthur gave his father a look as he took another sip.

“I’m a grandpa,” he shrugged. “I’m supposed to indulge my granddaughter.”

“Show her everything, Pop. I need her to understand what it means to be of two words.”

“I will, but it’s not true.”

“What isn’t?”

“She’s not of two words. She’s pure Atlantean. You can show her all of this, but we should be feeding her compassion and leadership, not trying to attach some emotional connection to a world she has visited twice since she was a toddler.”

“You know that we couldn’t bring her. Things were complicated. The Land-- they didn’t want--”

“I know, I know,” he waved his hand to stop the growing rage in his son’s chest. “But Lexa is more like Meera than like you, and she won’t have the same experiences. You have to be ready for that.”

Aquaman took a deep breath before running his hand through his hair, longer than he normally kept it. He missed the silence of the sea at times like that.

“I need her to believe in the connection of Atlantis to the Land,” he sighed. “It’s vital for everyone’s survival, and if she doesn’t believe it, Atlantis will lock itself away again, now when there are more threats than ever.”

“Then perhaps a damsel is exactly what she needs.”

It was a simple and ingenious solution to the problem Arthur never thought to consider, but he turned those words over in his head and slowly nodded as he saw their wisdom.

“Your mind is wasted on this lighthouse. You should be ruling Atlantis.”

“I’m okay right here.”

“You got any beer hidden around here? I could use some advice on a few more things, old man.”

“I’m going to add Counselor to the King of Atlantis to my business card.”

In a movement, the lighthouse keeper and father of kings and grandfather of princesses pushed himself up from his chair at the table and dug through the small fridge before emerging with two cold bottles.

“Like you have a business card.”

“If I had one.”

His son just shook his head and tossed the bottle cap on the table between them. There were few places he felt more comfortable or at home, and he was happy for his daughter.

XXXXXXXXXX

Only at its grand opening, had Lexa seen the grandeur and majesty of her mother’s pet project, the Spindrift. Waving and curved, it glowed in the sunset that dipped below the clouds on its quest for the horizon. The sea calmed as the storm gave way, and the Spindrift was cast in its golden light. After a quick explanation of where a certain damsel might be working, Lexa excused herself from Barnes and made her way through the halls.

Her mother was home, while her father was on Land, so there was no risk of seeing her, though for some reason, Lexa felt as if she were sneaking.

But then she found her, on her first day on land, in her first few hours, close by and waiting, or at least around. Paused by the door, Lexa watched, just to make sure. But it was certainly Clarke. Lexa knew from the blonde shade in her hair, and she knew by the way her shoulders stood tall, and she knew by the slope of her neck as she worked, and the way she tapped her pencil against her jaw while she thought about something.

It was Clarke.

With a sigh, she closed her notebook and laptop before taking a moment to look out of the window and toward the expanse of the sea. Her face betrayed little as she looked out and thought or perhaps didn’t think. But with a resigned sense of drive, she stood and began shoving things into her backpack before tossing it on her shoulder.

Lexa felt her nerves grow as she realized she was about to be recognized. It was something else entirely to be viewed by someone. But sure enough, blue eyes met her own, and Clarke looked at her and let the image process.

“Lexa?” she asked, head cocking slightly to the side, as if she didn’t want to let herself believe it, as if there was an active force within her deeming this moment impossible.

The princess smiled and stood a little straighter. Gone were Clarke’s old clothes, and gone was the dirt and bruises. Instead, her hair was a little shorter, and her body seemed sturdy and full of life again, something it was casually missing often in Atlantis.

“You’re here late,” Lexa offered, attempting to break the quiet while they stared at each other.

“You’re here.”

“You said you’d be close.”

She wasn’t ready to expect that Clarke would take a step forward, her eyes still questioning and her hands eager to make sure this mirage was real and flesh and blood and alive. Lexa crossed her arms behind her back, returning to the proper structure.

“Have you eaten?”

It wasn’t the question Lexa expected, though she wasn’t sure what question she’d thought to expect.

“You were my first stop after my grandfather’s. I don’t know my way around land that well.”

“I’m honored.”

“Care to show me around?” Lexa offered with a grin as she extended her elbow willingly, waiting for Clarke to take it again, as she had in the Hanging Gardens.

Clarke just nodded and accepted Lexa’s arm.

XXXXXXXXXX

“You cut your hair.”

“What? Oh, um, yeah… I… yeah,” Clarke nodded as she felt the ends of her hair, now firmly above her shoulders whereas when she’d been in Atlantis it went nearly to her elbows. “I needed a bit of a change, plus it’s summer. I like it short in the summer.”

At the pizza place on the corner of Main Street, the pair sat in a small booth in the back, away from the last round of customers. The candle on the table glowed behind its red holder, flickering quietly between them. Lexa couldn’t help but stare intently at the girl across from her. It was impossible not to. So much was familiar, but she was also aware that she missed her, as weird as that were to sound.

“I like it. You look… you look very good,”

Clarke couldn’t help but blush a little despite not wanting to do it. She didn’t know what to do with all of Lexa’s honesty.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” Clarke shook her head and toyed with the straw in her cup. “It feels kind of weird, doesn’t it?”

“Because I don’t have a royal guard or a fancy palace and my Atlantean uniform?”

“I meant that you’re on land, but yeah, those things are also weird. I only know royal Lexa.”

“There’s only one of me, Clarke,” Lexa shook her head and smiled to herself as the waiter slid a steaming pizza in front of them. “Thank you.”

There was no real way to tell Lexa why it was so weird for Clarke to see her there, but she didn’t want to waste any time explaining it, not when the princess was right there. It was too good, and too nice.

“Keep your anchovies on your side, please. They are the worst.”

“How can you say that?” Lexa furrowed and took a huge piece, holding it high before taking a large bite. “It’s so good.”

“No way.”

“I think you’d like it. Give it another shot.”

“I’m happy with my veggies, thanks.”

Clarke watched the princess shrug and take another bite, smiling as she struggled to chew, but enjoyed every second of it. Mid chew she met Clarke’s curious glance and smiled, so utterly free from her duties and the restraint Clarke was accustomed to seeing. It was a new kind of freedom that Lexa flexed under, and Clarke couldn't help but laugh a little before taking a normal sized bite.

“How is everything back home? When I left you looked like something bad was happening.”

“Not my best farewell.”

“It fit.”

Lexa smiled before taking another bite.

“I have a cousin, Roan. He’s part of a terrorist organization called Children of Poseidon. They’re intent on eradicating the world of the land and swallowing it with the ocean. They want to dethrone my father and return the royal line to pure Atlantean blood.”

“He sounds like kind of a dick.”

“He is, but he always stayed in line, until--”

“That day,” Clarke nodded. “You were an idiot for taking me back to Atlantis with this happening. I could have ruined everything.”

“My dad likes to say it’s genetic.”

“Being an idiot?”

“Yeah,” Lexa confessed, earning a laugh from the girl who sat across from her and refused to try anchovies. She found herself looking at Clarke as she laughed, savoring it until pizza cheese dripped onto her hand.

“So Roan attacked something when I was leaving? Was he hoping to delay the opening of the Spindrift?”

It wasn’t often that Lexa was used to speaking so candidly, nor with someone who understood these kind of things without her having to explain it the whole way.

“He was trying to send a message, delay the Spindrift, prove that my father was weak. Your standard terrorist agenda.”

“Right right, the usual.”

“Nothing to worry about, Clarke. I’m quite good at keeping everything under control and my father is a great king.”

“I’m not worried,” Clarke shrugged. “Did you catch him?”

“Not yet. Which is why we figured my visit to land might be a good time. In case he tried anything.”

It was easy to forget that Lexa was a superhero imbued with mythical and ancient powers, and the hope of an entire civilization. She was just a girl eating pizza. But as she finished, she sat up and stretched, and her broad shoulders stretched her sweater, and Clarke saw how imposing she was. Her face had the ancient kind of tilt to it, the long cheeks, the sharp jaw, the regal green of her eyes. She was beautiful in the ways that all myths were beautiful.

“So what is your plan, princess? You know, while you’re here with the air-breathers.”

“My grandpa has some projects for me to work on, but mostly I’ll be experiencing.”

“Experiencing?”

“Yeah,” Lexa smiled and leaned closer. “I want to see everything you have to offer.”

“I don’t know if it compares to what you showed me.”

“Pizza was a great start.”

“Do you think I could see you more, while you’re here?” Clarke asked, unsure of what it would mean if she couldn't. Unsure of how she felt about it all.

“I was hoping you would. I… I wanted to see you so badly… I would like to see you more, if you have time.”

With the news of it, Clarke nodded and wiped her fingers in her napkin. She was ready to quit her job and devote herself full time to becoming a tour guide.

“It’s the least I could do for the princess of Atlantis.”

“Just Lexa is fine.”

“Just Lexa it is.”

The pair shared another smile, and Clarke wondered if she’d looked anywhere else the entire dinner, instead completely enraptured by Lexa. It was impossible to deny it, and when she was close, it felt positively… well, mythical.

104 notes · View notes

a-wanderin-whirlybird · 4 years ago

Text

Flight if Destiny: Prologue

(An Ever After High fic, set in an au where the evil queen decides to be a good mom. Cowritten with @offwiththeirbuds )

It was over. Finally. Robin Queen leaned against the back alley wall. Her enemy, Snow White had decided to try and do more than banish her after awakening. She tried to have Robin arrested and tossed in prison. Thankfully Robin hadn't done anything outside the realm of their story, so there was no way to arrest her. But Robin was furious.

How dare she? Robin only did what was expected and for what? An empty, temporary marriage and a lonely future.

She could get revenge. Get power and fame on her own and a kingdom to show up that brat Snow White!

Robin sneered, that could work! She could strike Wonderland first, it was disconnected enough from the rest of the world, no one would notice until it was too late. Or maybe she could-

Robin heaved, emptying her stomach contents on the concrete. She had gotten too excited.

"Crap. Crap. What am I thinking?" Robin hissed, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand while the other gently held her baby bump.

It was a small bump, barely showing, but it was a grounding reminder for Robin. It was so easy to lose herself to the role of Evil Queen and far safer than facing the future after her story. She felt so alone without the story now. All of her friends were just starting their stories while Robin had to start hers immediately out of High school. She was only 27.

Narrators beyond, she was 27 and expecting! And she had considered world domination? What was she thinking???

She hadn't been. In that moment Robin had been scared and alone so she turned to the safety of her role. But… what safety was there in evil? Embracing it would mean she could be truly imprisoned.

"Funny, how you reminded me I wasn't alone, and you don't even have a heart beat yet." Robin muttered to her belly. She had to be better. Better than Snow who wanted her dead or tortured, better than her mother who left her alone too young. Too focused on the Evil part of the Evil Queen.

Robin vowed to be better. A Better Mother and Better Person. Robin stamped her foot, eyes narrowing with determination.

"For you my Baby bird. For you I will face the world. I will be the best Mother for you…" Robin said pulling out a small slip of paper and racing to a nearby pay phone.

The small paper had a short list of numbers. Friends from school. The top of the list was Nana Breadhouse, she may be the Gingerbread House Witch, and specialized in candy houses, but Nana also had some connections.

The phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Nana. Its… its Robin."

"Robin?! Are you ok? I heard Snow's speech. Did she?!"

"She tried to arrest me but it didn't work. Nana I need a house Im… Nana I have a kid on the way. I wanted to- I…" Robin felt tears fall. "I almost became my Mom…"

"Oh SweetPlum. Where are you? Ill come get you. We can talk after." Nana said. Robin couldn't help but smile, Nana was the kindest woman.

"I'm in Bookend outside the Library. Ill wait here." Robin said. Her hand never left her little bump, she had to fight the urge to conquer and the little lump was helping.

"I'll be there faster than you can say Taffy, hang on love." Then Robin waited.

It only took ten minutes for Nana to arrive, her Bubblegum punk hair made her easy to see in the rainy gloom. Nana's Broomstick landed and the plump woman raced over embracing the soaked Robin tightly. Robin held her friend dearly.

"Oh Honey Tea, come on. Let's get you home and dry. You can tell me what your plan is after we got some food in you."

"You're the Fairest Nana." Robin hiccuped. Her tears hadn't stopped the entire time.

"Tell me that after you're dry and warm. Come on." Nana said, pulling Robin onto her broom. Robin leaned into Nana's back as they flew a comfortable silence filling the night air as they escaped the rain clouds and finally reached Nana's home.

Nana silently ushered Robin inside. Trapper the huntsman was seated by the fire, rocking Nana's 1 year old Ginger. The gruff man looked concerned as Robin was sat down by the fire.

Trapper gently placed the sleeping Ginger back in her crib and began to sign as Nana raced around.

"Are you ok? You look awful." He signed, Robin nodded weakly, shivering in her soaked clothes.

"Im… shaken. But ok, thank you Trap." Robin said, Trapper gave a soft smile and nodded. Only to sign some rather vicious things about their classmate Snow White. Robin shook her head. "Trap its… im not fighting back. I cant. I have a child on the way. I- I refuse to be my mother. Or worse."

"You don't have to do anything. But I could get Arthur and-" Trapper started signing only for Nana to bustle between the two and give Trapper a glare.

"No. You are not storming the castle Trapper. If you try You get no Daughter time for a month!" Nana scolded in a whisper. Trapper shook his head but signed in agreement.

"You both adore Ginger so much. I hope I'm as good to my baby Bird…" Robin muttered. Nana Gently pat Robin's hand.

"You will be darling. Trapper and I have our system. I'm not denying him his ability to be in his daughter's life. And you did the right thing walking away today." Nana said. "Now I have some clothes you can use, tomorrow we can get your stuff back- Robin? Sweet Plum whats-?"

"She burned my stuff." Robin muttered, tears falling anew as she hugged herself tightly. "Snow… She. She did more than try and arrest me. She destroyed all my things. I just did my part! I just did what they expected of me…"

Nana's eyes lit aflame, fury rolling off her like an oven.

"That, that, That witch! Disgusting. I knew Snow was Twisted but this? And she calls herself a Royal." Nana turned back to Robin, eyes softening. "We will get you new clothes and goods tomorrow. I have an extra plot of land nearby you can live on. We can design it tomorrow as well."

"Doctors appointments." Trapper signed. "We can come with you too."

"You guys are too good to me. How can I repay you?" Robin asked sniffling.

"How about you babysit some days for us? We can always use an extra hand with Ginger and it will be good practice." Nana offered.

"Deal."

The next day was strange. Replacing her missing clothes had been easy. Robin knew she needed maternity clothes and she wanted to move away from her old doom and gloom vibe. She wanted to be comfortable and to distance herself from the role of the Evil Queen.

Then she saw someone she never expected to see.

"Robin?"

"Arthur?!" Robin had turned to see her best friend. "Look at you! Your beard came in!"

Arthur laughed, rubbing his blonde hair.

"Yeah and I finally lost the tit scars too. What are you doing this close to Camalot?" He asked. The two walked down the various aisles grabbing what they needed.

"Oh well. I finished my story and I wanted a fresh start for me and the Baby Bird." Robin explained, Arthur sputtered.

"You're a Mom?!"

"Not yet. I'm expecting. I'm only about a month along." Robin explained giggling as Arthur started blushing. He loved kids, but never really did well with the idea of pregnancy.

"Oh wow! Uh well congrats!" Arthur said. "Uhm… you live nearby? If you do I'm sure Merlin and Giles wouldn't mind if you dropped by. Giles was really worried when news broke that your story started so early."

"That's sweet. I would love to visit. How are your Boys doing?" Robin asked.

"Oh well… they are doing well. Milkshake is still a jackass to Giles about our relationship. But well… I'm going to propose soon. " Robin gasped.

"Really?! Oh Arty that's wonderful!"

"Actually I was going to see if Nana knew where you were. I need your help to make it memorable." Arthur said, Robin smiled.

"Of course! You're my Best Friend Forever After. What were you thinking?" Robin asked. Arthur smiled and the two discussed proposal plans.

The next few months were a flurry of building, Reconnecting with friends and doctors. Robin had no time to stop and consider the ever disapearing urge to conquer the world. Instead it was replaced with eagerness to meet her future daughter.

Robin got to visit Arthur, Merlin and Giles again. Her life was filling up with friends again and she felt lighter than ever.

Then the sonogram appointment. As she had set it up her doctor had warned her, they would not allow anyone other than the father in with her. Robin was terrified.

"Birdy whatchya doing so down?" Merlin practically chirped as he picked her up to go for the Sonogram. Robin sighed sitting beside the mage and watching the countryside roll away.

"My doc warned me they won't let anyone but the father in with me…" Robin muttered. Merlin clicked their tongue

"Ain't old Good King in a Nursery Home, senile out of his mind? And-" Merlin paused. The Mage was an empath and didn't need any other powers to know why Robin sank into depression when the old king was mentioned. Merlin nodded silently.

"Fine. I'm the Dad now." Robin jolted up, turning to Merlin.

"What?! Do you honestly think they'll believe that?" Robin asked. Merlin smirked, tossing his scarf to the side.

"They don't have too. They aren't getting rid of me. Though I'm calling back up." Merlin cooed, casting a minor sending spell before Robin could stop him.

"Who'd you call?" Robin asked.

"The rest of the fathers!" Merlin said happily. He didn't say anymore until they arrived at the office and the two enter the waiting room. Robin was stressed, clutching her bulging stomach as Merlin went to check her in. She stood near the door, when-

"They let any old rabble in here don't they?" Robin tensed as the sniveling tones of Snow white met her ears. Robin turned. The new Queen was with her Prince, Fabian Charming and obviously expecting as well.

"Snow." Robin hissed.

"Queen. What are you doing here? I told them, not to accept your ilk." Snow sneered. "Or did you break in? I can arrest you for trespassing. Better yet I should have the guards toss you out. Maybe you'll get the mess- AIYYYYYYYYYY!"

Snow shrieked as her dress suddenly burst into Merlin's iconic Pink flames. Merlin sauntered up and slung an arm around Robin. She didn't realize she had been hyperventilating until then.

Fabian put out his wife and glared at the smirking Merlin.

"Oops, sorry I still miss fire when I get stressed ya know? And our girl is expecting our little bird, of course Im stressed." Merlin purred.

"Our?" Fabian muttered.

"Yes. Ours. Move Fabian." The Charming swung around to find Giles, Arthur and Trapper in the doorway. Arthur looked slightly mortified and Trapper looked ready for a fight. But it made Robin feel safer.

"What is the meaning of this?" Snow hissed, shaking off the ashes of the fire. "I know none of you are the father!"

"No we all are. Because we were asked to be." Giles said calmly as Arthur pushed over to Robin and held her close.

"No you weren't. Merlin decided." Robin muttered to Arthur who snorted.

"You didn't say no." Arthur retaliated earning a laugh from Robin as Snow tsked.

"What ever. Just Leave, I have an appointment here!"

"So do we." Merlin said as a nurse came up, nervously fiddling with her clipboard.

"Uhm, Ms. Queen? We are ready for you and uh… your child's fathers?" She seemed to ask if the four men were with her despite knowing the anwser. Snow went slack Jared as Robin left, surrounded by her friends.

The panic the run in caused vanished when she saw her daughter the first time. She cried so hard, her baby Bird was healthy and growing. And Robin forgot all about Snow White.

Then her new home had been built not 2 miles from Nana's own home. Robin could easily visit and watch Ginger, who was growing so fast.

Robin helped Arthur propose to his boyfriends. Merlin may have been a powerful mage. But Robin was the trickiest witch alive. She was able to make the moment Magical without Merlin catching on.

And of course they said yes. The three looked radiant at their wedding. Merlin opting for a ballgown as he preferred and Giles and Arthur for a suit and armor respectively. And Robin was Arthur's Best Witch.

Then suddenly Robin was giving birth, post ceremony. Nine months had gone by so fast. And before she knew it, Robin was holding her daughter in her Best Witch suit. She was so small and pale with a little silky tuft of black and Purple hair.

Raven Queen entered the world in Summer. Greeted by her mother and her friends.

#eah #Ever After High #ocs #so many ocs #Baby Bird AU

19 notes · View notes

thepromisedbride · 4 years ago

Note

HELLO JESS. BBC GHOSTS ARTHURIAN AU GO (by which I mean the arthurian characters in the premise of BBC ghosts, not the other way around)

REY oh my god i love you for this here we go

So in Ghosts the alive characters are a married couple, right?? Wrong!! Well, not wrong, because yes that’s exactly what Mike and Alison are. But wrong for this version because though I seriously considered having one of the couples as the main characters I then thought “hey what’s more fun than a family!!” and luckily for us (me) we have a ready made family in the form of (drumroll please) The Orkneys!!

The rest is under a read more because I got what some might call “carried away” and others might call “obsessed”

What happens is this: as the Orkney brothers grow up, they rather naturally become separated, until at last Gareth is the last one, at seventeen, living with their mother. Their father (or at least, their supposed father: they all know that Mordred looked too dissimilar to Lot to really be his son, though they never said it) died a while ago, and Morgause could not find it in her to really focus on her children over her job.

The five of them seem to unspokenly care about each other, but in a way where it was clear that they were all waiting to be contacted first.

Nonetheless, when Morgause does die, with Gareth having just turned eighteen and seriously wondering why he had taken a gap year from university, they all show up, and find that they had jointly been bequeathed the old family house in the country.

Gawain has been recently promoted and is now working from home. This meant more time than he usually spent inside his flat, and he had been getting rather claustrophobic. So, after an admittedly short heart to heart with Gareth, who was looking quite nervously towards a future without parents and with no idea what to do, he packs up his brothers in a typically Gawain-like fashion and moves them all out to the manor.

Mordred has been able to see ghosts since an incident in his youth involving a large body of water, an ill-timed trip and a sudden storm. He hasn’t been in water since, but the near-death experience left his with the ability to see those spirits left when their bodies had departed. This is especially unfortunate for him, because half the time he doesn’t particularly want to be able to see living people, let alone ghosts who do not leave when he throws things at them. But he puts up with it enough: there is, beyond all logic, a particular cup he took from Morgause’s house when he left which somehow has three ghosts attached to it, and they happily provide a deterrent for any others.

(It does create a somewhat awkward car journey: he’s being driven by Agravaine, and between the boxes in the back and the only two seats in the front, there’s not much room even for a ghost. Aggs keeps looking at him weirdly when he fidgets, but it’s not his fault that the only free place left is his lap or that Galahad decided that he simply had to see the journey to the house rather than simply confining himself to the cup like Bors and Percival did.)

Anyway, this means that he arrives at the house and immediately sees a crowd of variously costumed figures and tries turning around and leaving. Unfortunately Agravaine anticipates some “young adult hormones” and quickly steers him straight inside.

It takes him a while to finally be alone with the ghosts, who seem to quickly realise he can see them. There are eleven of them in total, though a couple seem to spend most of their time in the little gatekeeper house rather than the main building. He immediately makes a note to avoid Dinadan, who looks at Mordred once and immediately makes fun of his choice in band t-shirts (and like, he’s a ghost, what does he know about bands, it’s like trying to talk to Gaheris—) and Lamorak is instantly relegated to Mordred’s extensive “least liked people” list, which is different to his “disliked people” list. Kay seems kind of mean, which is funny, and Bedivere is responsible enough to try and control the others, but they are clearly “not dating” which honestly Mordred has no time for.

He gets on best with Clarissant, probably, as she’s smart and not too grating but still sweet enough that she likes sitting with him when he wants to be quiet but doesn’t want to be alone. Owain, likewise, has shown him several spaces in the garden for birdwatching or other wildlife (which Mordred doesn’t particularly have used for, but he does appreciate the effort).

Owain is “not dating” a different ghost, Laudine, but in a different way than Kay and Bedivere are “not dating”, in a way that doesn’t get on Mordred’s nerves and lets him acknowledge that Laudine is kind of funny. Elaine doesn’t really talk to him: there’s a river and lake by the house and she seems to prefer it there, or else by the old tower. But she has great stories, and never minds when he really needs a vent, usually about his brothers.

It’s Palamedes and Brangaine who live (in the loosest sense of the word) in the gatekeeper’s cottage. This is very useful, because it means he can set up a little bedroom inside, though it’s mostly for storage now, and sleep there when he wants to pretend he has his own space. He has a strange nervousness that they might see him as a sort of pet, but he’s pretty sure that’s not the case.

Relatively sure.

Not that it matters. They have a clearly delicate history together, one Mordred is not about to ask after for fear that one or both will start crying, but they manage in a sort of sweet domesticity. He’s left the goblet in there for now, because Palamedes seems to enjoy Galahad, Bors and Percival’s company.

And it’s—

Nice.

And then, of course, there is Lancelot. He seems far too well meaning for Mordred to carry on any kind of maliciousness for long, except that for some godforsaken reason he has also decided that Gawain is an ideal muse. He spends way too much time following Gawain around, thinking up sappy poetry about Gawain, or else sighing blissfully out of a window (presumably over Gawain). Mordred thinks that if Lancelot were to ever be able to actually talk to Gawain (physically, he means. Or figuratively? Because even if Lancelot wasn’t a ghost he does not seem to have any cognitive abilities around Gawain anyway) then this image would be shattered. Gawain looks pretty, but so does this waterfall Mordred once read about that falls down into nothingness and despair, or the river stretch that looks like a lovely refreshing swim but actually is an fierce riptide with a 100% mortality rate. Something like that. But the point is that it’s difficult enough with Gawain constantly around without having his admirer hanging round all the time too. Gawain is insufferable already without Gaheris and Gaheris getting to add to their board of “Is Gawain Secretly (Or Not-So-Secretly) a Changeling” with ‘every time he puts something down it always seems to move just within reach when he goes to pick it up’

(If you’re wondering why there isn’t an Arthur, that is a subplot that I just suddenly decided on just now. I was going to have Arthur as a Captain-like ghost but then I was thinking and long story short there’s a tangent here—

It was Arthur’s house. He’s still Mordred’s dad, though here I guess he isn’t their uncle as well, and he left Morgause the house in his will. He heard she was pregnant, and there was a little but if him which knew he could never acknowledge his child but he still wanted to provide in some way. Arthur doesn’t have to be a bad parent.

Incidentally this also solves why the brothers didn’t really know about the house before rather than “Morgause wasn’t a big fan of the country”.)

(OH MY GOD also so Guin isn’t a ghost either bc I wanted her alive. So now she’s an important plot point. She moved into the outskirts of the nearby village because she liked the area but didn’t want to contest for a massive empty house. Anyway she’s smart and despite the problems her and her late husband went through, she does respect him for this. So eventually the Orkneys will have to go for a discovery on the house’s secrets aka there are ghosts and so they will find Guin and discover the Truth. It’s all coming together now lads)

They invite their neighbours over for dinner one night: the house needs some pretty desperate renovating, but it’s now moderately liveable at least and, according to Gawain, this requires a party.

So invite them over he does. The ones to the left, a couple named Tristan and Isolde, though Gaheris swears that when they were introduced in the village Isolde looked completely different, and the ones to the right, Morgan and Vivian. They pass a very pleasant evening, despite the fact that a fox manages to get on the roof.

No one is sure how.

Gaheris and Agravaine are charged with rescuing it, which is by far the stupidest decision Gawain has ever made. However, despite them all living together, the brothers are really not in a brilliant harmony yet, and so Gawain sends those two off whilst he entertains their guests.

The two of them are staring out the window at the fox for a while before Gaheris dares Agravaine to climb up. He doesn’t want to, but Gaheris is his little brother, and if he passes over a dare from him he’ll never hear the end of it. So he climbs out.

It’s a dry night. But it was not a dry day. And the leaves packed on all the footholds are wet and slippery, and Agravaine—

Falls—

And hits the ground, several stories below.

They’re all terrified, of course, regretting every moment they spent apart or arguing. Agravaine is declared legally dead for fourteen minutes, and it is the worst fourteen minutes of any of their lives. But finally— finally— the doctors emerge to tell them that their brother is resting, but is expected to make a full recovery.

Which he does! There are several more doctor’s appointments and physiotherapists scheduled, but eventually he can return to house. (Unsurprisingly, the arguing starts again quickly.)

There is, however, one major difference.

Agravaine can now also see the ghosts.

Mordred, having been able to see them all his life, had not considered this possibility, and thus does not prepare.

Agravaine discovers these new abilities when he walks into a room to find Mordred, pretending to be on a phone call, chatting away with Clarissant whilst Lamorak inexplicably floats nearby. He stares, screams, and blacks out.

When he comes to after a moment he is faced with a lengthy, surprisingly bored conversation with Mordred, and seriously considers blacking out again. Lamorak has not left the room despite his presence being an inevitable disaster, and Agravaine perhaps unsurprisingly decides that He is to be the newest mortal enemy in Agravaine’s list.

(Lamorak is silently gratified that he is on lists for both alive people who can see him, and chooses to ignore the reasoning behind the lists.)

Mordred has been dealing with ghosts for most of his life.

Agravaine has Not.

This means that, pretty quickly, Gawain, Gaheris and Gareth realise something is even more wrong with those two than normal.

And of course they have to come clean.

Gaheris is half convinced that the two have found his conspiracy journal and that this is an elaborate ruse to trick him into confessing love for Nessie or something. Gareth is mostly concerned about the logistics and privacy, though Mordred’s narrated conversations between him and Owain seem to make him much more comfortable with the whole thing. Gawain is genuinely tempted to jump out a window to see if he can join to newly discovered exclusive club of ghost watchers, but eventually decides that it’s too much a risk to his beautiful face.

(Lancelot silently agrees, though it has not escaped his attention that it would be nice if Gawain could actually see him.)

#arthuriana #rey thank u this is the best ask ever #i got so carried away i’m so sorry #the ghosts were just a game of ‘i love these characters and you can’t stop me’#but i’m not tagging them all #just #orkney clan #gawain #agravaine #gaheris #mordred #gareth #the fox is reynard #if you were wondering it is astolet elaine not corbenic elaine #in a more extended version of this her and lancelot best friends #arthurian literature #arthurian legend #bbc ghosts

18 notes · View notes