#arthur how did you fumble her | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

theonottsbxtch · 1 month ago

Note

Your Charles series was so good. And your writing is amazing.

Could you maybe do something where reader is friends with Arthur’s GF- Jade or someone in his friend group and she meets Charles and he literally has a fall in love at first sight moment with her and maybe he becomes a bit obsessed 🫶🏻🫶🏻

LOVE ME, BABY | CL16

an: i did a mix of a smau and written for this one and since i'm moving to france again soon i'm making her french ehehe

jade_distinguinn

liked by yourusername, arthur_leclerc, yourbestfriend and 28,428 others

look who's finally come to visit @/yourusername

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userone: facecard never declines for both of them

usertwo: i need them both

userthree: omg finally getting to see yn in monaco

yourusername: take me to the port, i need to find a sugar daddy

jade_distinguinn: enough.

userfour: they're so pretty

yourbestfriend: it's fine leave me behind, i'll cope

yourusername: you had work??

jade_distinguinn: i tried to pay you to come??

yourbestfriend: shh don't expose me.

userfive: i would commit war crimes to be apart of their friendship

monaco casino, arthur's birthday

The night buzzed with a certain energy Charles knew all too well. The Casino de Monte-Carlo was alive with high society types, gamblers, and tourists, all bathing in the golden glow of the chandeliers. A typical night in Monaco, he supposed, but something about tonight felt different.

Charles had come here to celebrate Arthur’s birthday, content with blending into the backdrop. The Austin Grand Prix was just a week away, and while most people recognised his face, tonight wasn’t about the spotlight. That was Arthur’s role tonight, surrounded by his circle of friends. For once, Charles was glad to slip into the shadows.

He’d just stepped away from the table, heading towards the bar when it happened. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw you, gliding through the crowd like you didn’t belong in all this glitz, as though you were in your own world. Your dark hair fell effortlessly over your shoulders, and the understated elegance of your dress caught his eye. Not flashy, not trying too hard.

Then, in one brief, perfect moment, you brushed against him.

The light contact jolted him from his thoughts, and before he could even react, you turned, eyes wide with surprise.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” Your voice, soft and clear, carried the unmistakable lilt of a French accent.

Charles’s world tilted as your eyes met his. He wasn’t used to this—the sudden quiet that seemed to fill the room, as though all the noise had fallen away in your presence. And yet, here you were, pulling him into that stillness.

You didn’t look at him the way people usually did. There was no spark of recognition, no polite nod that said, I know who you are. Just calm, curious eyes, waiting for a response.

Charles cleared his throat, his usual confidence faltering. “Yes… sorry, I—”

“Are you alright?” you asked, a faint smile playing at your lips, almost teasing.

He couldn’t help but laugh softly, surprised by how easily you handled the situation. Handled him. That never happened to Charles Leclerc. People usually fumbled over their words, especially in places like this where Formula One drivers were practically worshipped. But you? You were treating him like he was just another guy in a suit, standing in your way.

“I’m… Charles,” he managed, extending his hand automatically.

You glanced at his hand, but instead of shaking it, you smiled politely and looked past him, scanning the corridor. “Nice to meet you, Charles. But I really need to find the bathroom before I get even more lost in here.”

And just like that, you were leaving. The most baffling part? You still had no idea who he was.

“Uh, it’s just down that corridor to the right,” he said, voice a bit steadier now but still trailing after you as you moved away.

“Thanks.” You shot him one last glance, smiled briefly, and disappeared into the crowd, leaving him standing there with an unfamiliar feeling settling in his chest.

Charles was used to attention. But this? This was different. A fleeting encounter, barely lasting seconds, yet it had left something behind he couldn’t quite shake. You’d treated him like anyone else. Not a celebrity, not a driver—just another person. And that intrigued him more than anything.

With a sigh, Charles turned back towards the bar, trying to push the thought of you out of his mind.

But minutes later, back at the table with Arthur and the others, his thoughts kept drifting. He couldn’t shake the memory of you, couldn’t help but glance at the entrance now and then, half hoping, half expecting to see you again.

And then, there you were.

You moved through the crowd with a quiet confidence, your head held high, walking straight towards the table. Charles’s pulse quickened as you drew closer, your gaze sweeping across the group until it landed on him.

Jade noticed you first, her face lighting up. “Darling! There you are!” She jumped up, pulling you in for a quick hug.

Charles watched in amusement, barely concealing a smirk. You hadn’t recognised him yet, still oblivious to the fact that you’d just met him.

You sat beside Jade, and Arthur leaned over, gesturing towards Charles. “I don’t think you’ve met Charles here, have you?” His grin was wide, completely unaware of the encounter that had already unfolded.

You glanced his way, and for a split second, something flickered in your eyes. But you kept your expression composed, only hesitating for a moment before replying smoothly.

“No, I don’t think I have.”

Charles leaned forward, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. You were good. Playing it off like the two of you hadn’t just crossed paths minutes ago. The fact that you weren’t acknowledging it only made him more curious.

He extended his hand again, this time with a knowing look in his eyes. “Pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise,” you replied, your gaze meeting his directly, a glint of challenge flickering there.

Arthur, still oblivious to the undercurrent between you two, continued on casually. “Charles’s been in Monaco as long as you. Just got back from testing in Italy.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Testing?”

“He’s a Formula One driver,” Jade added, glancing between you and Charles.

Charles didn’t take his eyes off you. He saw the moment of realisation in your eyes, just the slightest widening before you regained your composure. But he caught it. You’d finally connected the dots.

You recovered gracefully, your voice smooth and unaffected. “I guess I’ve been too busy to follow sports.”

Charles let out a low chuckle. You were definitely good at this game. And the best part? You weren’t going to make it easy for him.

“That’s what makes it interesting,” he replied, his gaze steady on you.

Jade quickly pulled your attention to something else, and Charles watched as you turned away, part of him disappointed, but another part relieved. It gave him a moment to take you in fully, to process what had just happened. You hadn’t recognised him—not as a Formula One driver, not as anyone of importance. You’d smiled, thanked him, and carried on.

As the conversation at the table continued, Charles found his thoughts drifting back to you, glancing your way more often than he should. There was something about the way you carried yourself—an effortless kind of allure, unpretentious and completely disarming.

He realised he’d been too quiet when Arthur nudged him, snapping him out of his reverie.

“Charlie, you alright?” Arthur raised an eyebrow, his tone curious.

Charles blinked, forcing a grin. “Yeah, yeah. Just thinking.”

Arthur chuckled, clearly unconvinced. “About your next race or something?”

Charles’s eyes flicked back to you, now laughing at something Jade had said, completely unaware of the fact that you were occupying his mind.

“Actually,” Charles said, lowering his voice so only Arthur could hear, “I was wondering if you could give me her number.”

Arthur looked puzzled. “Her? Really?”

Charles rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “Yeah, she’s... different. I’d like to get to know her.”

"Alright, I get it," Arthur said, his voice low enough so the others couldn’t hear. He glanced over at you, then back at Charles, his smile fading into something more serious. "But no can do, mate. She’s Jade’s best friend."

Charles blinked. "What’s that got to do with anything?"

Arthur shrugged, his grin returning. "It means I’m not getting involved. If you want her number, you’re going to have to ask her yourself."

Charles felt a jolt of panic surge through him. "Ask her myself?" The words came out louder than intended, and he quickly lowered his voice when you glanced in their direction. He cleared his throat, trying to appear nonchalant. "I mean, you can’t just—"

"Nope," Arthur cut him off, his expression completely unyielding. "I’m not risking it. Do you know how long it took me to win over Jade? If I mess this up by playing matchmaker and it doesn’t work out, I’m screwed."

Charles groaned inwardly. Arthur’s girlfriend, Jade, was lovely, but he had to admit—Arthur had a point. The last thing he wanted was to stir up any drama, especially with you being Jade’s best friend. But still, the thought of approaching you directly made his pulse quicken.

"You’re really not going to help me out here?" Charles asked, trying one last time.

Arthur grinned like he was thoroughly enjoying the sight of a Formula One driver getting flustered over a girl. "Not a chance. But look at it this way—you’re Charles Leclerc, mate. You can handle it."

Charles stared at him, deadpan. "You realise I drive at 300 kilometres an hour for a living, right? This is way more terrifying."

Arthur burst out laughing, slapping him on the back. "Good luck, mate."

Charles watched as Arthur leaned back in his chair, clearly done with the conversation. He couldn’t believe it. Ask her myself. He glanced at you again, and his heart did that strange, unfamiliar thing where it skipped a beat. This was insane.

But there was no way around it.

He took a deep breath and downed the rest of his drink, trying to steel his nerves. The next race was nothing compared to this. Alright, he thought, just go over there and act normal. But even as he thought it, he knew ‘normal’ was the last thing he’d be able to pull off around you.

How had this become the hardest thing he’d ever done?

charles_leclerc

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celebrating 24!

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userone: my fav grid siblings

usertwo: oh my who are the girls at the end?

arthurleclerc: merci frero

userthree: i want to know what a leclerc party is like

jade_distinguinn: @/yourusername we got put on blast in that final picture

arthurleclerc: @/charles_leclerc eyes

jadedistinguinn: what?

arthurleclerc: nothing mon amour

userfour: i wish i was there

userfive: happy birthday arthur!

yourusername: oh god i look awful

charles_leclerc: i think you look quite the opposite actually

texts between jade and arthur

jade's apartment

You were lounging on the sofa, the late afternoon light filtering through the blinds, casting soft, golden streaks across Jade’s apartment. She was curled up in the armchair across from you, scrolling through her phone and sipping tea. It was one of those rare, lazy afternoons where nothing was pressing, and the air was filled with the comforting hum of nothingness. A perfect break.

“So, what are you and Arthur up to tonight?” you asked absently, flicking through the channels without much interest.

Jade glanced up, shrugging. “Not sure yet. He mentioned something about Charles going to England tomorrow for testing, so we might just go out for dinner and come back unless he wants to go and see Charles.”

Before you could respond, there was a soft knock at the door.

“That’ll be him,” Jade said, setting her cup down and stretching.

You got up to answer the door, opening it to find Arthur standing there, a familiar cheeky grin on his face.

"Alright, ladies?" he said, stepping into the apartment with the ease of someone who's done it a hundred times before. He gave Jade a quick kiss on the cheek before plopping himself down beside her on the armchair, completely at home.

"Hey, Arthur," you said, sitting back down on the sofa. "Heard Charles’s off to England tomorrow? Are you going to see him tonight?"

“Yeah,” Arthur says, leaning back and draping his arm across the back of Jade’s chair. “Got some testing to do, nothing major, just a quick day trip, so we’ll be home tonight.”

“Must be exhausting,” you commented, more out of politeness than anything. Formula One life sounded glamorous, but you couldn’t imagine the constant travel.

Arthur chuckled. “Yeah, he’s got a crazy schedule, that one. Actually…” He hesitated for a moment, shooting a glance at Jade that you didn’t catch, then continued, “Charles is looking for someone to dogsit while he’s away. Just for the day, really. His usual sitter fell through.”

You blinked, surprised. “Charles has a dog?”

“Yeah, a small dachshund. Leo. Sweetest thing you’ve ever seen,” Arthur said, his voice casual but you missed the slight edge of anticipation that lingered beneath his tone.

You glanced at Jade, who was suddenly very interested in her tea, and shrugged. “I could do it. I’ve not got any plans tomorrow anyway, and I’ve been wanting an excuse to get out for a walk. Might be nice to have some company.”

For a brief moment, neither Jade nor Arthur said anything. It was like they’d frozen, and you were about to ask if you’d said something weird when Arthur cleared his throat.

“Yeah? That’d be brilliant,” he said, flashing a quick smile at Jade before looking back at you. “Charles will appreciate that. Leo’s great, really. You’ll get along.”

You nodded, thinking it was no big deal. “Happy to help. I love dogs.”

Jade set her cup down a little too carefully, and you missed the look she shared with Arthur—a quick, knowing glance, a barely-there smile. It was the kind of look that was exchanged between people who were clearly up to something, but you were oblivious, already thinking about what you’d need to bring for Leo’s day out.

Arthur leaned forward, grinning now, clearly pleased with how smoothly things were going. “I’ll let Charles know. I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning and drop you off at his place?”

“Perfect,” you said, pulling your knees up to your chest and settling back into the cushions. “I’ll make sure Leo’s well looked after.”

Arthur and Jade shared another glance, but you were too busy scrolling through your phone now, thinking about where you’ll take Leo for a walk. Maybe the park nearby?

Jade stretched, standing up and nudging Arthur’s arm. “We should probably get going, yeah? Need to go pick something up from your mother’s salon.” she said, clearly making something up on the spot.

Arthur jumped to his feet, playing along smoothly. “Right, yeah, can’t forget about that.”

You waved them off, entirely unaware of the little conspiracy brewing right under your nose. “See you tomorrow, then.”

As they left, Jade turned back, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “You’ll love Leo, trust me.”

“Looking forward to it,” you called back, smiling.

yourusername

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dog sitting duties

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userone: omg is that leo??

usertwo: chat if they date, my glock is finna be locked and loaded

userthree: is that charles' place??

arthurleclerc: my nephew is so adorable

userfour: i want to be her so god damn bad

userfive: i must have been the worst sort of person in my past life WHY IS THIS NOT ME

jade_distinguinn: cutest ball of fluff ever

usersix: parents?

charles_leclerc: thank you for this

charles' apartment, late at night

Charles dragged his suitcase behind him, feeling the familiar ache of travel settle into his muscles. The testing had gone well, but the flight back from England had drained him more than usual. All he could think about was getting home, maybe grabbing a quick bite to eat, and collapsing into bed.

As he unlocked the door and stepped inside, something felt off. Normally, Leo would be at the door within seconds, his tail wagging like crazy, eager to greet him after any amount of time apart. But today, there was no thundering of paws, no excited whining. The house was still, unusually quiet.

“Leo?” he called out softly, frowning as he dropped his bag by the entrance.

No response.

His concern grew as he walked further into the living room, the sight before him making him stop in his tracks. There, curled up on the sofa, was Leo—and beside him, fast asleep, was you. Your head was resting on a cushion, and Leo’s small dachshund head was draped lazily over your legs. Both of you looked completely peaceful, completely unaware of the world.

Charles blinked, feeling something in him soften at the sight. He’d forgotten for a moment that Arthur had mentioned you’d offered to look after Leo while he was away. Seeing you there, though, sprawled out on his sofa, completely at ease with Leo beside you, was… unexpected. But in the best possible way.

A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he quietly stepped closer. Leo’s ears flicked up as he noticed Charles, but the dog didn’t move, simply blinked sleepily before resting his head back on you, clearly not ready to leave his comfortable spot. Charles chuckled under his breath. Traitor.

His eyes moved back to you. You were still in your casual clothes, one arm draped across your chest, your breathing soft and steady. He felt his chest tighten, this strange warmth creeping up on him as he stood there watching. He could see why Leo hadn’t come rushing to the door—you were good company, after all.

Charles sighed quietly, rubbing the back of his neck. As much as he wanted to crash right there on the sofa himself, beside you, he knew you’d be more comfortable in a bed. He hesitated for a second before moving closer, carefully reaching down and gently sliding one arm under your legs and the other under your shoulders. You stirred slightly as he lifted you, but didn’t wake, your head leaning into his chest as he carried you through the apartment to his bedroom.

You felt light in his arms, your face peaceful as he laid you down on the bed, tucking the covers around you carefully. His heart gave an unfamiliar lurch as he stepped back, watching for just a moment as you settled into the blankets, still fast asleep.

Charles smiled softly to himself, shaking his head as he quietly left the room, closing the door behind him. He glanced back at the sofa where Leo had curled up, already resuming his nap. “Looks like I’ll be taking your spot tonight, mate.”

text between yn and jade

charles' apartment, following morning

The first thing you felt was warmth. Your body was cocooned in softness, the kind of comfort that made you want to sink deeper into sleep. But something didn’t feel right. You blinked your eyes open slowly, expecting to see your familiar surroundings—the sofa, Leo, maybe even your shoes kicked off somewhere on the floor—but instead, you were in a bed.

You sat up quickly, blinking against the morning light streaming through a nearby window. Your heart skipped a beat as you took in the room around you. This definitely wasn’t your apartment. The walls were unfamiliar, the duvet softer than yours, and the faint scent of something cooking wafted through the air. Panic settled in your chest.

The events of yesterday start rushing back. Leo. Charles. You’d agreed to dogsit while Charles was in England for testing. You must have fallen asleep on the sofa—but how did I end up in bed?

Oh no. Did Charles put me here?

You felt a rush of mortification as the realisation hit. He must have carried you. Carried you. Heat rose in your cheeks as you glanced around the room, suddenly very aware of the fact that you were lying in his bed. His bed!

Throwing off the covers, you swung your legs over the side of the bed and stood up, running a hand through your hair. You didn’t even know what time it was, but it felt later than it should be. God, how long have I been asleep?

You headed towards the door, trying to shake off your embarrassment as you stepped out of the bedroom and made your way into the main part of the apartment. The smell of food grew stronger, and as you rounded the corner, you froze.

Charles was standing in the kitchen, barefoot, wearing nothing but a pair of grey sweatpants, and flipping something in a frying pan. His back was to you, but there was no missing the fact that he was shirtless—completely shirtless. The morning light caught on his tanned skin, highlighting the defined muscles of his back and shoulders. Your brain momentarily short-circuited, and you stood there like an idiot, staring.

Oh God, this is so much worse than I thought.

He turned around, catching sight of you standing there, and smiled, completely unfazed. “Morning.”

You blinked, feeling the heat rush to your face again as you tried to form coherent words. “Uh… morning.”

He set the pan down and wiped his hands on a nearby dish towel, seemingly unaware of your internal struggle. “I hope you slept alright. Sorry if I startled you by moving you to the bed, but I thought you’d be more comfortable.”

Your heart was still racing, and you were pretty sure you were about three shades of red at this point. You fumbled for a response, trying to keep your eyes from drifting back to his very toned, very bare torso. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to just… fall asleep on your sofa like that.”

Charles chuckled, clearly amused by your flustered state. “No problem at all. You looked comfortable, and Leo clearly wasn’t moving anytime soon.” He nods towards the dog, who was lying by the kitchen, tail thumping lazily against the floor.

You let out a breath, still feeling a bit mortified but tried to compose yourself. “I just… I didn’t realise I was that tired.”

“No harm done,” he said, waving off your apology. “I’m actually glad you stayed. Saved me from dealing with an overly energetic dog first thing in the morning. He pawed at your door to join you last night and only came out 20 minutes ago, all calm.”

You managed a small laugh, feeling slightly less awkward now, though your eyes kept darting to his chest before you forced them back up to his face. Focus.

Charles seemed to notice your discomfort, his smile softening. “I was just making some breakfast. Do you want to join me?”

You blinked, caught off guard by the invitation. “Breakfast?”

“Yeah, the thing people eat at the start of the day?” he said sarcastically and casual, as if this whole situation was perfectly normal. “I’m making eggs and toast, nothing fancy. But you’re welcome to stay.”

Your stomach betrayed you by rumbling softly, and you realise you hadn’t eaten since lunch the day before. Despite the lingering embarrassment, the idea of sitting down with him, maybe getting to know him better, didn’t sound half bad.

You nodded, feeling yourself relax a little. “Yeah, okay. I could eat.”

Charles grinned and gestured to the kitchen island. “Great. Grab a seat, I’ll get you a plate.”

yourusername

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"nothing fancy" and "just eggs and toast"

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userone: LEOOOOOOO

usertwo: that last pic gIRL??

jade_distinguinn: oh no the charles fans found you

yourusername: fuck

jade_distinguinn: good luck

userthree: who is she omg?

userfour: i think she's arthur's girlfriend's bestfriend from paris?

yourusername: yo that is insane, how did you find out i'm from paris

arthurleclerc: i'm sorry for what's about to happen

yourusername: THERE IS WORSE??!?

userfive: she is gorgeous

usersix: idk who i want more

charles_leclerc: if you were impressed by this, wait until you see what dinner consits of

yourusername: are you inviting me to dinner?

charles_leclerc: only if you say yes

yourusername: yes

userseven: WE ARE WITNISSING HISTORY

twitter

charles' apartment, one night

The evening sun was just beginning to dip below the horizon, casting a warm, golden glow over the apartment. Charles had insisted on cooking dinner for the both of you, despite your half-hearted protests. Now, the smell of something delicious—a mix of garlic, herbs, and roasted vegetables—filled the space, making your stomach rumble.

You were seated at the small dining table, watching as Charles moved around the kitchen with surprising ease. He wasn’t wearing a shirt again, but this time you’d had a little more time to get used to it. It wasn’t helping your concentration, though. Every time he turned to grab something or stir a pot, your eyes seemed to betray you, drifting toward the defined muscles of his back, the curve of his arms as he worked.

He caught you staring once or twice, shooting you a quick, knowing smile, which only made you look away, cheeks burning.

“Alright,” he said finally, bringing over two plates and setting them down on the table. “Hope you like pasta.”

You glanced at the dish in front of you—perfectly cooked spaghetti, tossed with olive oil, garlic, and roasted tomatoes. “It looks amazing,” you said, genuinely impressed.

He sat across from you, pouring some wine into your glass with a teasing smile. “Thought I’d try to impress you.”

You laugh, taking a sip of the wine. “Consider me impressed. You didn’t strike me as the cooking type.”

Charles leaned back in his chair, smiling lazily. “What, just because I drive fast cars for a living, I can’t handle a kitchen?”

“Well, yeah,” you tease, twirling some pasta around your fork. “It doesn’t really scream ‘domestic life,’ you know?”

He chuckled at that, but there was a soft, almost thoughtful look in his eyes as he watched you. “Fair enough. But there’s more to life than cars, you know.”

You take a bite of the pasta—perfectly seasoned, of course—and nod. “I’ll admit, you’re a man of surprises.”

As the conversation flows, you start to relax, the initial awkwardness of the morning fading away. You tell him about your time in Paris, about how you’ve been studying film and journalism at university. Charles seems genuinely interested, leaning forward slightly as you talk.

“So, you’re a filmmaker then?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Hopefully one day,” you say with a laugh. “I still have a year left at uni. Right now, it’s more learning than making.”

Charles takes a sip of his wine, considering. “What kind of films do you want to make?”

You pause, twirling the wine glass in your hands. “I think... films that make people feel something. You know? I want to tell stories that resonate, that make people look at the world a little differently. Journalism’s the same for me. It’s all about storytelling.”

He watches you as you speak, his gaze intense but soft, like he’s taking in every word. “That’s... really cool,” he says, his voice quieter now. “I think the world could use more of that.”

You smile, feeling a strange warmth spread through you—not just from the wine, but from the way he looks at you, like he’s genuinely interested in who you are, not just the surface-level stuff. “Thanks. I leave tomorrow, though, back to Paris to finish my term.”

There’s a brief silence, and for a moment, the lightness of the conversation shifts. Charles sets his glass down and leans forward, his eyes not leaving yours. “You don’t have to go tomorrow, you know.”

You blink, surprised. “What?”

He shrugs, a playful smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I mean, what’s a few more days? Stay a little longer. We can get to know each other better.” His tone is light, but there’s something deeper in his eyes—a hint of something more serious, more intent.

You hesitate, your mind racing. Stay longer? You’d planned to leave tomorrow, get back to your routine, your studies… But the way he’s looking at you now, the thought of leaving suddenly feels less appealing.

“I—” you start, but Charles interrupts, his voice dropping a little lower, his gaze never wavering.

“Look, I know we just met, but… there’s something here, right? Between us?”

The words catch you off guard, and your heart skips a beat. You weren’t imagining it, then—this pull between you two, the way your pulse quickened whenever he was close, the way your eyes kept finding him without meaning to.

“I don’t know,” you say softly, feeling your heart race. “Maybe…”

He stands up then, walking around the table slowly, his eyes locked on yours. Every step closer makes your breath catch in your throat, the room seeming to shrink as the distance between you disappears.

When he’s standing in front of you, he reaches out, his fingers gently tilting your chin up so that you’re looking right into his eyes. “Stay,” he says again, his voice almost a whisper now. “Just a little longer.”

Your pulse pounds in your ears as you meet his gaze, your heart caught between indecision and desire. You open your mouth to say something—anything—but before you can, his lips are on yours.

The kiss is soft at first, almost tentative, but then it deepens, heat flooding your body as you feel his hands slide around your waist, pulling you closer. Your hands move instinctively, finding their way to his chest, the warmth of his skin under your palms sending a thrill through you.

The rest of the world falls away, leaving only the feeling of his lips moving against yours, the taste of wine still lingering, his breath warm and steady. When you finally pull back, your forehead resting against his, you’re both breathing a little heavier, your heart pounding in your chest.

He looks down at you, his eyes dark and full of something that makes your knees feel weak. “Stay,” he whispers again, his voice rougher now, more urgent.

And suddenly, leaving feels like the last thing you want to do.

You stare up into Charles’s eyes, still catching your breath from the intensity of the kiss. His forehead is still pressed gently against yours, and the weight of the moment is thick in the air, like the world’s holding its breath along with you.

His hand moves to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing softly along your skin. You can feel the warmth radiating from him, his chest rising and falling a little faster than usual, mirroring your own heartbeat. He leans in again, his lips just a whisper away from yours, and his voice is low, thick with desire.

“Say yes,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your lips. “Stay, just a little longer.”

You swallow, your pulse pounding in your ears, your body still buzzing from the kiss. It feels impossible to think straight with him this close, with the way his touch sets your skin on fire. But then, as his fingers slide down the side of your neck, his lips just barely grazing yours, you make your decision.

“Yes,” you whisper.

His lips crash into yours again, more intense this time, like the word had unleashed something in him. His hands slide down your back, pulling you closer until there’s no space left between you. You gasp into the kiss, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck, fingers tangling in his hair as the world blurs around you. The only thing you can focus on is him—his warmth, his touch, the way his mouth moves against yours like he can’t get enough.

Charles backs you gently against the edge of the dining table, his lips never leaving yours, and you feel the solid wood press against the small of your back. His hands find your waist again, lifting you effortlessly onto the table. You gasp as he steps between your legs, his body pressing against yours, and you feel every inch of him—strong, solid, and warm.

Your hands slide over his bare chest, feeling the taut muscles under your fingertips all over again. He groans softly against your lips, the sound sending a thrill through your entire body. The kiss deepens, more urgent now, and you feel his hands wander—one slipping up your back, the other gripping your thigh, pulling you even closer.

It’s overwhelming, this rush of heat, of wanting. Your heart pounds harder with every movement, every brush of his lips. His mouth moves from yours, trailing down your neck, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. You tilt your head back, eyes fluttering closed as you let yourself get lost in the sensation.

Then, just when you think you might drown in the feeling, he pulls back slightly, his breathing ragged, his forehead resting against yours again. His hands are still on you, holding you close, like he’s afraid to let go.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he breathes, his voice husky and low.

You smile, breathless and still dizzy from the kiss. “I think I might.”

He pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark and intense, searching yours. There’s a softness in his expression now, something deeper that makes your heart flutter all over again. “So, you’re staying?”

You nod, unable to tear your eyes away from him. “Yes. I’m staying.”

The smile that spreads across his face is slow, but it lights up his entire expression, making something inside you melt. He leans in again, pressing one last soft, lingering kiss to your lips before pulling back and gently brushing a strand of hair from your face.

“Good,” he whispers, his voice low and full of promise. “Because I’m not done with you yet.”

yourusername

liked by jade_distinguinn, arthurleclerc, charles_leclerc and 54,429 others

one more week won't hurt, right?

*tap to load more comments*

userone: GUYS??!??!?!?!

usertwo: is leo about to have a mother?

userthree: THAT LAST PHOTO CHARLES LECLERC HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME

jade_distinguinn: @/arthurleclerc mission acomplished?

arthurleclerc: yes boss 🫡

yourusername: huh??

userfour: can not believe i'm alive during this time rn

charles_leclerc: rumour is you can transfer to UoMonaco

yourusername: charlie you know i can't 🤭

userfive: CHARLIE STOP I CANNOT TAKE THIS I DONT EVEN KNOW THESE PEOPLE AH

usersix: i am sick🤧

userseven: time to start wondering around aimlessly in monaco and pray for the best

the end.

#f1 #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 smau #formula one x reader #f1 x reader #f1 fic #formula one smau #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc smau #formula one x you #formula one imagine #formula one fanfiction #ferrari formula one #ferrari formula 1 #ferrari

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cosmicdahlias · 2 months ago

Text

A Tale of Two Outlaws

an arthur and john x reader fic

MINORS DNI

You’ve drunk yourself into a stupor, Arthur takes you back to camp and John preposes a devilish idea.

warnings: dubcon, mild age gap with arthur (reader is in their 20’s), drunk sex, threesome, scratching, impreg, baby trapping, hangover

it’s pretty obvious by the end who i favor more hshxbdhdjdhd

Arthur kept a hand around your shoulder as you stumbled out of the saloon. He struggled to keep you on your feet.

“Jesus girl, how many drinks did you have?” Arthur asked, catching you as you almost tumbled to the ground.

“Bleventeeeeeen.” You smiled.

Arthur took his face in his hands. “Good god almighty, I told you to take it easy. You know you’re a lightweight.”

“I jus’ wan’ed to have a little fun, Mr. Morgan.” You slurred, giving him your best doe eyes.

“Yeah, and you’re gonna be sick as a dog come mornin’.”

“How come you ain’t drunk?” You asked.

“Cause I’m bigger than you and I wasn’t drinkin’ like someone was comin’ to saw my leg off.”

Arthur hoisted you onto his horse’s saddle.

“Wha’ ‘bout my horse?” You asked, still slurring your words.

“You’re too damn drunk to ride, we’ll come back for her in the mornin’ after you’ve had a chance to sober up.”

Arthur made his way back to camp with you against his back, your arms wrapped around his waist. You may or may not have fallen off his horse a few times.

“You’re gonna be bruised and cut up to hell tomorrow, you know that?” He said as he helped you up.

“Heh heh, battle scars.”

When you finally arrived Arthur went to pull you off his horse and you slumped over, once again falling off, you had passed out. He held you and gently tapped your cheek, trying to revive you.

“Hey, hey, y/n, come on girl.”

You opened your eyes, struggling to keep them that way. “BUH! I’M AWAKE!”

John overheard the commotion and walked over.

“Jesus, they look like hell. What’d you do to them, Arthur?” John asked.

“Ask them.” Arthur retorted.

You lifted your head up. “Eheheheheh, I got WASTED, John!”

“Yeah, no shit. You really can’t handle your booze.” John responded.

Arthur shrugged. “They were really on a mission to be the dumbest they could be.”

“Don’ y’all go judgin’ me.” You said with a hiccup, flopping out of Arthur’s arms onto the ground.

Arthur sighed, pulling you to your feet. “Alright come on, you think you can stand?”

“I’m a standin’ professional.” You said, immediately falling on your face.

Arthur threw up his hands and shook his head. “What the hell am I gonna do with you?” He said, scooping you into his arms again.

“Funny you should mention Arthur, cause I’ve been thinkin’. Remember what we was talkin’ about the other day? I mean come on, look at them. They ain’t gonna be able to say no, bet they’d like it actually.” John said, stroking your cheek with his thumb.

“Shit, Marston, you got some good ideas every now and then.”

Arthur dipped his head down and kissed you roughly, you grabbed at his neckerchief, pulling him closer.

John scoffed. “I fuckin’ knew it, you want this so bad. Should’a known, seein’ the way you walk ‘round camp, findin’ any reason to bend over in front of us.”

Arthur smirked devilishly. “Yeah, you have any idea what you do to the men here? What we say about you? You don’t wanna know the kinda shit that comes out of Micah’s mouth. We all want you, girl, every single one of us.”

“Are we just gonna stand here talkin’ or are we gonna actually do this?” John asked.

“Damn, you can be so impatient.”

Arthur carried you to your tent, he closed the curtains and set you down on the cot. You drunkenly fumbled with your clothes, attempting to take them off.

“Poor thing, too drunk to even strip. Let me help you princess.” Arthur said, kissing your neck.

Arthur unbuttoned your blouse and took off your skirt, he unhooked your bra and slid your knickers down your legs. You laid back, completely exposed to the both of them. John was the first to speak.

“Jesus fuckin’ christ, so that’s what you’ve been hidin’ under them clothes.” He said, unbuttoning his trousers, pulling his cock out and moving to spread your legs.

Arthur put out a hand. “Easy there, John, don’t get ahead of yourself. They need to be taken care of first.”

“Suit yourself, Arthur, I’ll be puttin’ that mouth to good use.”

Arthur pulled you to the edge of the cot and sank to his knees, slowly inserting his fingers inside you. John turned your head to face him and wasted no time shoving his cock in your mouth, gripping your hair.

“Tastes good, don’t it?” John said as he bucked into your mouth.

“Mhmf.” You nodded, mouth full of cock.

Arthur put his mouth to your clit, sucking and licking furiously. You moaned and reached your hand down to grab a fistful of his locks.

”Atta girl.” Arthur purred.

He curled his fingers at your g-spot and you moaned around John’s cock.

“Fuck, Arthur, I don’t know what you just did, but keep doin’ it. When you make them moan like that it feels stupid good on my dick.”

John increased his speed, fucking your mouth relentlessly. Arthur sucked hard on your clit, you bucked your hips into his mouth.

You felt your orgasm build, arching your back off the cot. Arthur could sense it, picking up his pace with his tongue and fucking you harder with his fingers. You salivated on John’s cock as you came all over Arthur’s face.

“Good girl.” He said softly, kissing your clit.

Arthur got to his feet and picked you up, his hands holding the underside of your thighs and you wrapped your arms around his neck while John came up behind you. Arthur slipped himself in first, John attempted to follow, but struggled to get it in.

You shifted nervously. “I- I don’ know if both’a y’all’ll fit.”

“Shhh, you can do it girl, just relax.” Arthur cooed.

John grunted as he made a second attempt, successfully entering you. You whimpered from the arousing and painful sensation of being stretched out by both of them. They began to move in you, trying to fuck you at a synchronized rhythm.

“Good girl, I knew you had it in you.” Arthur praised.

You were moaning nonstop, they both felt so goddam good.

“You hear the noises they’re makin’?” John asked.

“God, those sounds are so fuckin’ adorable. You really enjoyin’ yourself, ain’t you, babygirl?” Arthur said.

“Fuck, I should get drunk more often.” You said, burying your face in Arthur’s neck.

“If you’re always gonna be this fun, I’m all for it, girl.” John chuckled.

“You know, we was startin’ to think you was just a tease and that you didn’t really want none, that maybe you was a virgin.” Arthur said, grunting.

You laughed. “Oh you should’a seen me when I was younger, passed around more than a bottle of liquor. Worked out nicely cause now I know what men like y’all want and I know my way around a cock. Hell you think Dutch just let me join on a whim? Nah, I had him barkin’ like a dog.”

“Goddam, you’re a freak.” John said.

Arthur kissed your neck. “You startin’ to make me jealous of Dutch.”

Both of them started thrusting into you faster, trying to match each other’s speed. Arthur dug his nails into your thighs as John reached around to feel up your breasts.

“Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum and I ain’t cummin’ in you, I already learned my lesson with that.” John panted.

He pumped faster, his breathing becoming strained, pulling out and cumming all over your back, biting into your neck. His cum dripped onto the floor.

John stretched, buttoning his pants. “Well thanks for all the fun, girl, but I don’t see any point in stayin’ after cummin’.” He said while making his way out.

“Good, I was kinda hopin’ he’d give us some time alone.”

Arthur carried you to the cot and set you down on your stomach. He took a rag and wiped John’s cum off of you.

“There, sorry about that, John doesn’t always think of the ladies first.”

He turned you over, kissed you passionately and entered you again. He resumed his pace, his hands pinning your wrists. He pumped his cock into you roughly. You kissed him and he moaned into your mouth.

He started pulling himself fully out and slamming back into you just to hear you squeal, you raked your nails down his back and he let out a loud groan.

“Good girl, mark me. Make me yours.”

You moved yourself against him.

“Nnngh, fuck. That’s it, work those hips back on me.”

His breathing hitched, hips stuttering.

“I’m so close, you gonna let me cum in you?”

“I need it, Arthur.”

“That’s right, tell me how much you need me to cum in you, get you pregnant even.”

You tightened around him at his words, something about him wanting to impregnate you up was incredibly hot.

“Y-you want to knock me up?”

”Shit, I’ve wanted you for so long, if I have to fuck a baby into you to make it happen, so be it. Now c’mon, say it, tell me you want me to put a baby in you.”

“Nnh, I want your baby. I need your baby, Arthur.”

That absolutely did him in. He fucked you at a breakneck pace, the cot squeaking underneath you.

“Fuckin’ GOD!” He growled through gritted teeth.

He panted, getting a last few thrusts in before cumming deep inside you. He collapsed on top of you and laid there, cock still inside you without speaking.

Arthur kissed you as he finally pulled out. “You done good, girl. You want me to get you dressed and I can take off?”

“Mmmn, can you stay?” You mumbled through your exhaustion.

“Good choice, I was hopin’ you’d- wait, hold on.”

Arthur rummaged around in his satchel and pulled out a pencil and his journal. He grabbed a chair and sat down in front of you.

“Lay on your side and pose for me.”

You blushed, you’d always hoped he would include you in his journal. You turned to face Arthur and tried to emulate the poses of the girls you saw in those erotic pictures that the men passed around camp. He started to sketch you.

“That’s it, good girl. Put a hand on your tit. Yeah, just like that. Now try not to move.”

“You gonna use this to cum to later?”

“When I’m gone for days and you’re not around? Yes. I got needs, girl, and I’m not about to fuck some whore. I like you too much to lose you over something like that.”

“So, what you’re sayin’ is…”

“Yes, I plan on courtin’ you. I caught feelings for you and if my cum is worth anything I’m stayin’ with you for good, I ain’t no deadbeat.”

He sketched you in silence, the only sound being of his pencil against the paper. You yawned.

“Aww, tired ain’t you? Don’t worry I’m almost done, then I’ll let you cuddle up with me.”

After roughly 30 minutes he finally finished. He turned the journal to you.

“What d’ya think? Not as good as the real thing, but I think I captured you pretty well.”

You blushed. You looked absolutely gorgeous. Was this how he saw you?

“It’s perfect, Arthur.”

“Good, I’m glad to hear that. Now scooch over so I can hold you.”

You made space for him on the cot. He laid down and took you in his arms, your head on his chest. He sighed deeply, stroking your hair.

He had figured for a while that you found him attractive, but he assumed it never went deeper than that. He always felt something for you ever since he met you. So for you to want him to stay, want his baby, was everything.

You nuzzled into his chest as sleep embraced you, he kissed your forehead. Arthur watched you for a while, listening to the soft sounds of your breathing. He thought you looked so cute and peaceful asleep.

He could almost forget that you were a dangerous outlaw, sometimes more dangerous than him. He liked that, your fiery spirit was what drew him to you.

He fought sleep as long as he could, not wanting this moment to end, but eventually his eyelids grew heavy and sleep overtook him.

You awoke in Arthur’s arms the next morning to a splitting headache and intense nausea. You bolted to a wastebasket and promptly vomited. Arthur held your hair away from your face, rubbing your back.

“Have we learned why we don’t drink half our weight in liquor?” He asked.

“Fuck you, Arthur.” You said between retches.

“Already did last night and I’ll do it again.”

“If I wasn’t so focused on keeping things down I’d strangle you right now.”

He smirked. “Is that a promise?”

Weeks later the nausea would return, this time ceaseless, on the daily. Arthur had lived up to his word about getting you pregnant. You were gonna be his forever.

#arthur morgan #john marston #arthur morgan x reader #john marston x reader #arthur morgan fanfic #john marston fanfic #arthur morgan smut #john marston smut #red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #my fics

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pacifymebby · 1 year ago

Note

Arthur and a walk with the reader and their child. Maybe they're walking around their garden. Or Arthur tells the baby the names of the horses in the stable.

Fatherhood hadn't exactly come naturally to Arthur. He'd always been scared of having children, scared he was going to be like his own dad - flighty and unreliable - scared he was going to pass on the dreaded Shelby curse. Worse still, scared he'd end up raising a son just as violent, just as angry, pained and fragile as he viewed himself.

But when you'd fallen pregnant the first time he'd seen the tears of joy in your eyes and felt them mirrored in his. Sure, the fear hadn't dissipated and he was convinced he'd always be scared shitless of the wee one - not that he'd ever tell you that - but the second he had laid eyes on her that fear was dulled somewhat by a sense of great purpose. A sense of purpose which had overwhelmed him completely when he'd held your little girl in his arms for the first time, her head small enough it fit in the palm of his hand, her little body so tiny he could hold her like that, head in palm, little feet resting on his forearm as he bounced her gently to sleep.

He'd looked down at your little girl and known that no matter what he felt, no matter how bleak the world around him felt, he would always keep persevering for you and her. He'd do anything to make her life peaceful and full of joy. She was like a little ray of sunshine cut through all the bad, a diamond in the rough. He couldn't stop smiling and even now, a year later, he couldn't help but grin whenever he laid eyes on his little one.

Still, he often found himself at a loss to do. It wasn't that he was scared of her as such, it was that he couldn't quite relax when he was near her. Her big eyes looking at him expectantly. The knowledge that she relied on him completely, to look after her, to keep her safe... It was scary, it made him nervous. Meant that more often than not a lot of the time he spent with her was also spent with you because he knew that you wouldn't let anything go wrong. You would be there to sooth her if he was too rough or clumsy when he was holding her. He was terrified of making her cry, scared even just to think that he might, that if she did he wouldn't be able to help her, would only make things worse.

Today however was different. For the first time since the little girl had been born you'd left him alone with her. He'd been stunned when you'd told him that morning that you had to go out into the city for the day and wouldn't be able to take the baby with you. He'd stuttered and fumbled his words trying to ask you why not, all "but... How long are you gonna be gone for what should I do if.. If..."

"If what Arth? You'll be fine," you'd said with a smille shaking your head fondly. The truth was you could have taken the baby with you, the three of you could all have gone into town together but that wasn't what you wanted. What you wanted was for Arthur to realise he was a good dad, a capable father. For him to realise that his little girl thought the sun shone out of her daddy, just the same as he thought that of her. You'd noticed Arthurs apparent awkwardness from day one and you knew he'd always been worried about fatherhood.

You'd hoped that he'd settle into the role eventually, that he'd realise he really didn't have anything to fear... But as time had passed and you realised he still looked a little on edge just holding the little darling, you realised that you were going to have to intervene. Perhaps pushing him into the deep end wasn't the best idea, but you didn't know what else to do.

You'd already tried gently pulling back, leaving them to play together in the next room, leaving him to read to her, asking him to walk her round the garden when she couldn't sleep. Arthur always managed to stay close to you, to fall back on you. It wasn't exactly bad but you knew it couldn't be a good thing either. Besides, you wanted your daughter to love her father, to grow up trusting him, seeing the good in him. You didnt want her to feel he was distant or awkward. That would be just too sad.

So you'd left him alone, closed the front door and hurried off into the city to spend the day with your friends shopping. And now there he was, sitting at the kitchen table, your little girl Lily sitting on the table, one hand in a bowl of mashed banana the other in her mouth.

"Sposed to eat the food darlin how many times av i told you eh, foods for eatin not paintin..." chuckled Arthur, his low grumble broken by his smile. Lily really was a daddy's girl and he couldn't get mad at her for anything, even when she'd smeared herself, him and the table with banana and honey gloop.

"Right, alright," he smiled tickling her belly through her dress as he reached to pick her up, "you've had your fun with that now i reckon, time to get you cleaned up an then you an daddy have the whole day to do whatever we like, how does that sound darlin? How about that eh?" he said kissing her on the head, using his thumb to scoop a little of the banana from her cheek. When he licked his fingers he screwed his nose up.

"No alright I don't blame you littlen, thas no good for owt but paintin with..." He mused as he scooped her up in his arms and kissed her cheek which only meant that they were both covered in banana and honey gloop.

But once he was holding her in his arms he was once again at a loss, uncertain how he should even speak to her. He'd heard it was good to talk to babies as though they were adults because it helped them learn how to have intelligent conversations, but he wasn't sure he would be much use there. He couldn't remember having ever had the kind of conversation others might consider intellectual.

Besides he wasn't half as gentle talking to adults as he was with Lily. Didn't seem right for him to start talking to her the way he talked to his brothers, nor did it seem right for him to talk to her the way he spoke to you. So he stood in the kitchen doorway looking out at the chickens pecking at the dirt on the drive and he bounced Lily in his arms until she giggled and clasped her little hand around the hairs in his beard.

He grinned, the sound of her laugh was ever so contagious and never failed to make him smile.

"Right well, how about a nice little walk round the garden eh, suns out and I can introduce you to all the animals round the farm eh? What dya reckon sunshine would you like that?" He asked her looking down at her with all the love in the world. She was so pure and precious and that was exactly why he got so nervous to be with her, just seeing the joy and innocence in her bright doe eyes made his stomach twist with anxiety at the thought that he wasn't good enough for her. That he could never be the kind of dad she deserved because he wasn't a good enough man.

But when she smiled up at him and reached for his face with her tiny hand, her stubby little fingers skimming his beard as she giggled and said "dada dada," one of the only words she could he found his nerves replaced with a swell of pride and a smile he couldn't shake off.

"Alright then sunshine," he said with a grin, bouncing her in his arms as he carried her out of the kitchen door and into the garden, the stoned beneath his feet crunching as he made his way to the gathering of chickens on the driveway. He'd fed them earlier that morning but he still had some dried corn in his pockets and he was hoping Lily would enjoy scattering a handful or two across the garden.

"Right then sweetheart," he said using his finger to uncurl the little toddlers hand, "here we are you take some of this shite... Fu.. I mean... Sorry darlin eh, you just ignore your daddy he's a very naughty man eh, you just feed the chickens an ignore him eh..." he grinned sheepishly as he did his best to fill her tiny hand with dried corn. She scrunched her fist up tight around and smiled flexing her fingers a little too soon so that when the feed fell from her hand it fell all down Arthur's shirt and got stuck on his trouser legs.

"You little rotter," he chuckled kissing her forehead as he boosted her up in his arms and helped her have another go. His dismay only setting in when one of the chickens began pecking at his ankles to pick at the feed little Lilly had dropped all over him. "Oh bloody... Go'wan get away!" He grumbled at the hen who seemed determined to peck right through his trouser leg. As he shook the troublesome bird off his ankle Lilly looked down at the silly little scene from her Daddy's arms, her eyes lit up as a giggle escaped her. And when Arthur looked down at her well there was no way he could remain frustrated or preoccupied with that damn chicken.

He couldn't do anything but smile when he looked down at little Lilly, couldn't do anything but beam down at her and press another kiss to her bonny head, heart full to bursting with pride every time she smiled.

"Right darlin right let daddy show you this time eh, let's do it together..." he said taking her little hand beneath his and guiding her as she threw the seed across the path. This time it really scattered and the two of them grinned down at their success as the chickens gathered and began eating the feed from the ground rather than from Arthur's leg. "That's better there we go that's fu... That's better."

Not swearing in front of Lily was perhaps the hardest part of fatherhood. It was the only thing you'd notice he hadn't quite taken so naturally too. Even if he couldn't see it himself, in every other element of fatherhood he was perfect. He was loving, a little clumsy but gentle and nurturing always. He made your little girl laugh like nobodys business. He was always worrying about her, always the first to rush to her side if she took a trip or bashed her head... He was perfect. But he just couldn't control that potty mouth of his. The bad words just had a way of slipping out and you were beginning to worry that when Lilly finally managed her first word that first word would be "fuck."

"Right then little miss sunshine," he grinned bouncing her in his arms, unable to hold back his fond chuckle when Lilly began giggling at his jostling movement, "let's introduce you to everyone eh... This beautys name is Eloise, she's pretty for a chicken ain't she, what dya reckon my darlin? Prettiest chicken you've ever seen right, beautiful, gorgeous bird... And this... This is Audrey... She's a bit, she's a bit stuck up if you ask me like, look at her see, strutting around like she owns the place... And this, this little rotter of a bird, her name's Helen and she's got one bloody... She's got one very sharp f.. beak on her, aye one very sharp beak.."

Lilly tried to reach down to the chickens, stretching her tiny body away from Arthur's and though she was only small, for a second she almost managed to tip their shared balance so that Arthur stumbled and almost - thankfully only almost - stepped on the smallest chicken. That was your chicken, one you'd found shrinking away, not doing as well as the other chicks in the brood. You'd insisted upon bringing her into the house to look after yourself, insisted on naming her too which Arthur had tried to encourage you against. It wasn't that he was cruel he just didn't want you to get attached to a chick that might not survive. But she had survived and now she lived out in the garden with the others.

"Ahh," chuckled Arthur thinking of you fondly, wishing you were there with him and Lilly. "You've found your mammy's hen little one, her names Pearl..." He said crouching down so that Lilly could get a closer look, being sure to hold her up and away from the hens who were prone to a curious peck or two.

Lilly watched them with wide curious eyes, her little smile breaking into a giggle as she watched the birds funny little walk, the way they jutted their necks with each step.

She flinched when Helen and Audrey began clucking a little too wildly for her baby ears and Arthur decided that perhaps it was time to head to the stables instead. It would be quieter inside the stable and the horses were gentle beasts Lilly would be able to pat and babble at to her heart's content.

"Alright little poppet," smiled Arthur kissing his little girls cheek again, his mustache tickling her cheek and neck so that her giggle rang out melodically around the garden. That sound was music to Arthur's ears. It was the sound which reassured him he wasn't such a bad man after all. That if nothing else, he would always know that there was one person on this earth he could make smile. And she just so happened to be the most important person on this earth too.

The stable was quiet just as he'd hoped and where the sun broke through the scattered cracks in the roof the afternoons warm light filtered in and graced the hay on the floor with a golden glow.

"Alright," he whispered, his beard tickling Lilly's face as he leant in to talk quietly in her ear. He always tried to be quiet when he came to the stables. It was such a gentle, peaceful little place and he liked to preserve it. Keep it soft, a sanctuary not just for the animals but for him. "Alright," he whispered, "there's someone who wants to meet you little one..." he said carrying Lilly to one of the stall where the newest addition to the family was standing on shakey little legs.

"But we've got to be nice a quiet eh my darlin, cause he's only a baby int he, just like you... So he might be shy..." he put his finger over Lilly's lips and shushed, grinned when he felt her blow a hissed "Shhhh" of her own against his hand. When he carried her over to meet the little foal he was struck by how similar they were, considering one was after all a baby horse and the other a baby girl.

But they were. They were both so delicate. So pure. These tiny, vulnerable little creatures who depended on him in their own way. Two sweet little lives to be nurtured and loved. Two tiny things he had to be gentle with.

He wasn't sure how he was going to manage that but he knew that since Lilly had been born he'd learnt a lot about being gentle. That slowly but surely he was learning tenderness too.

"Ain't she beautiful eh Lilly?" He whispered. It wasn't the first time he'd seen the little foal but as Lilly gazed at the timid creature in awe Arthur felt the softness in his own eyes. The melting of his cold heart. "Wanna say hello littlen?" He asked taking an apple from his pocket to settle the foals nerves.

"Hello lovely," he said holding the apple out and watching as the foal eyed them warily. He was still working on trust with this one, something Tommy had always been better at than him. Still he was determined to show the little creature his gentle side, prove that he could trust him. Not just for the foals sake but for his own sake too. Prove to himself that he could be gentle too.

And so when the foal approached him, his little legs shaking, Arthur couldn't hide the grin, couldn't hide the swell of pride which rose to his chest and then got stuck in his throat when little Lilly reached her hand out to stroke the foals soft hair.

"Careful now sweetie pie," he whispered to Lilly, "nice and gentle eh don't wanna spook him..." but the foal was far from spooked. In fact he seemed to warm to Lilly, standing patient and still whilst she stroked his nose with a smile on her lips.

"Tell you what darlin," smiled Arthur, it had been his plan from the very beginning but he presented it to her now as though he'd only just thought it up, "since you two're gettin along so well eh, why don't you come up with a name for him? Hasn't got one yet have you mate?" He said copying his daughters gentle movements and giving the little foal a pat.

But when Lilly looked up at him and smiled, clapped her little hands together with this big beaming grin on her face, her wide eyes bright with mischief, Arthur realised that perhaps it was a little too soon to offer her that kind of responsibility.

"Hmmm," he chuckled as he stood quietly, letting Lilly continue to pet her new best friend. He wasn't expecting her to be the one to break the silence. Certainly not in the way that she did... With a word she'd not yet said before.

"Da..." she said reaching out to stroke the foals nose again, "Dada!" When she said it Arthur couldn't quite believe his ears. Wasn't sure he hadn't just imagined it. But when he looked down at Lilly his smile already too much to be contained, she turned to look up at him and pointed at the foal, her own eyes bright and smiling too.

"Dada!" She said again pointing at the little foal, waving her hands to get Arthur's attention - though she had his undivided attention in that moment. He was stunned by her, could hardly process the emotions he felt. Struggling to keep the tears out of his eyes.

"No sweetheart," he grinned kissing her head and turning her round to face him, "that's me.. I'm Dada!" He chuckled, laughing louder when she pointed once more to the foal and repeated herself over and over again until he was forced to accept that when you came home and asked about his day he would have no choice but to tell you all about it. How lovely it was. How Lilly enjoyed meeting the little foal... "He's called Dada by the way..."

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@only-malala

@galactict3a

#peaky blinders imagines #arthur shelby x reader

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knoepfl · 1 month ago

Text

Bang Bang

Characters:

Arthur Fleck – A man consumed by loneliness and desperation, who finds hope in a fleeting encounter.

Reader – A confident, mysterious figure who crosses paths with Arthur, unknowingly igniting something powerful within him.

Trigger Warnings: •obsession

•loneliness

•romantic fixation

Masterlist

Words: 934

---

Arthur wasn’t used to feeling this way. Not about anyone. But every time he closed his eyes, there you were. The way you moved, the way you looked at him that night—it was burned into his memory, vivid and alive. A crooked smile pulled at his lips as he shifted on the couch in his psychiatrist’s office, fingers twitching with the need to tell someone, anyone, about you.

“So, Arthur,” she said, her pen poised as she peered over her glasses. “Anything new you want to share?”

Arthur swallowed, his fingers tightening around the edge of the couch. “I… I met someone.”

Her pen hovered in mid-air. Arthur rarely spoke about anything personal, and certainly not about anyone else. But there was something different in his voice, an urgency, a glimmer of life that felt fragile, dangerous, beautiful.

He took a breath, his words tumbling out in a chaotic rush, his voice low and reverent. “She was… stealing. I mean, she was quick, clever. I saw her hands move, real fast, and then she was out, just like that.” His eyes sparkled, a light she’d never seen before. “And when she saw me staring, she didn’t run away. No. She looked right at me, smiled like she didn’t have a care in the world. And in that moment…” His breath hitched. “It was like… bang, bang.”

“Bang, bang?” she echoed, confused.

Arthur’s face flushed. He hadn’t meant to say it out loud, to put that feeling into words. It was more than he could explain—a sensation, raw and sharp, like a bullet lodged in his chest. “Yeah,” he said softly. “Like… it just hit me. Right here.” He clutched at his chest, his fingers curling as though to grasp the memory, to hold onto that feeling before it slipped away. “It was like she had some kind of weapon, but it wasn’t a gun or a knife. Just… just a look.”

The memory flooded back, each detail more vibrant than the last. How your eyes met his, unwavering and bold, as though you’d aimed right at him and pulled the trigger. And that smile—it was deadly, but soft, almost inviting him to follow, to see what happened next. He couldn’t help but feel like he was the target, like he’d been hit twice. Bang, bang, and he was down, helpless and lost in a feeling he didn’t understand.

“She’s like a shot in the dark,” he murmured, almost to himself, as he felt that flicker of exhilaration return. “She didn’t even have to say a word. Just the way she looked at me, it was like… she wanted me to follow, to see if I could catch her.” He chuckled softly, his voice dipping low. “But she was gone before I could even think. She disappeared, like she knew how to stay just out of reach.”

“Arthur, let’s try to stay grounded here,” his psychiatrist interrupted gently, sensing the shift in him, the tremor of obsession that flickered in his eyes. “What exactly happened? Did you… talk to her?”

Arthur’s face flushed, and he lowered his gaze. “Not exactly.” He rubbed his hands together nervously. “She… she left before I could. But… she left something behind.” His fingers fumbled in his pocket before pulling out a small trinket—a charm she’d accidentally dropped. He turned it over in his hand, tracing the lines, as if he could reach through it to her. “It’s like she wanted me to find it. To… to find her.”

The psychiatrist eyed the trinket, her gaze flickering with concern, but Arthur’s voice was already spilling over again, faster, more urgent.

“You don’t understand,” he said, his voice a strained whisper. “She was… everything I’m not. Confident. Strong. I could see it in the way she walked, the way she looked at me like she wasn’t afraid. And that smile…” He pressed his hand to his heart, that lopsided grin spreading across his face. “Like a bullet, right here.”

“Arthur,” she said softly, trying to pull him back from wherever his mind was drifting, but his gaze was distant, fixed on the memory of you.

“She’s different. She’s not like everyone else,” he murmured, the words almost reverent. “I’ve been thinking… Maybe if I can find her, she’ll see me too. See me like she did that night. And then—” His voice trailed off, and he looked up at her, almost pleading. “Do you think she could?”

His psychiatrist took a deep breath, her fingers stilling. “Arthur… Sometimes we see what we want in other people. Maybe she seemed like that in the moment, but that doesn’t mean—”

“No.” His voice was firm, cutting through her words. “No, you don’t understand. It’s not just in my head. She… she made me feel something, something real.” His face softened, his eyes distant as he relived the scene. “And I want to see her again. I need to.”

The psychiatrist hesitated, her pen tapping softly against her notebook. “Arthur, I think it might be helpful to think about what you really want from this. Sometimes we can create fantasies around people, and… it’s important to remember that they’re just people, with their own lives, their own struggles.”

Arthur’s gaze dropped to the trinket in his hand, fingers tracing it lovingly, and he nodded slowly. But even as he did, a small smile curled on his lips.

In his mind, you weren’t just anyone. You were someone who had seen him, who had seen beyond the shadow of his loneliness and despair. Someone who had, if only for a moment, let him feel alive.

---

Author’s Note: Thank you for reading! I really wanted to capture that mix of obsession and excitement that Arthur would feel, that rush like being shot through with something wild. This story is meant to give a sense of how he would try to hold onto those moments, feeling that overwhelming impact of meeting someone who, even briefly, let him feel seen. Also I've added elements of a song ive had in my mind for some time now. Its "Bang Bang" from K'NAAN. Let me know if you'd like to see more!

#fanfic #oc #arthur fleck x you #arthur fleck x reader #fluff #arthur fleck fanfic #arthur fleck #arthur x reader #joker x reader #Joker 2019 #Arthur Fleck #psychiatrist #Theft #Stealing #Song #Obsession #Love fixation

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mooncalf87 · 8 months ago

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Cherrisnake??? 🥺🥺🥺🥺💕💕💕💕💕 Tell me more

SORRY THIS TOOK ME SO LONG my brain short circuited and I couldn't fathom this ask lol

EVEN MORE CHERRISNAKE HCS <3

Forgive me if some of these are repeats, I dont remember what I did on the first two lists LOLOL also I am gonna do a few with my Pentious fan kid Adelaide, but I'll indicate where that starts

Snuggle bug. Pentious craves physical touch and comfort CONSTANTLY, which Cherri enjoys giving.

If you put them in a room together and lock the door there is a good 80% chance they will find out how to make a bomb out of carpet fuzz and drywall

They are big on PDA, but they- and everyone really- dont really notice it. They love giving quick kisses to each other, Cherri often finds her seat all cuddled up in Pentious's lap. It is a normal thing at the hotel, no one thinks much of it.

Cherri isn't interested in getting redeemed, which is something that Pentious 100% respects. They make it work

Pentious tried to propose but dropped the ring like 5 times. Cherri even handed it back to him once (he didn't realize)

Adhd couple

Their ideal date night is getting drunk off their asses and blowing up the Vee district

Pen is far from being a virgin, but he fumbles around in bed like one. Cherri finds it HILARIOUS

Pentious goes to Husk for relationship advice, and so does Cherri. Husk gets ALLLLLL the drama.

Cherri likes sweet/sugary stuff but Pen doesn't- pen has made jokes like "I'll have to break up with you, it just won't work. we are enemies 😔"

Sense their eras are so far apart, they love to teach each other about their time

Pentious, due to growing up in thr 1800s, didn't get a great education. He is great with building and stuff, but he doesn't know how to write or read very well. Cherri teaches him, and writing is one of his favorite things now.

Pen fell first. That man was smitten from day one. It took cherri a good 4 decades to realize her feelings

Adelaide stuff starts here! (Little bit of info: they are pents kids who were angels and he reunited with them in heaven. Adelaide is 3. She has a brother named Arthur, but I won't be including hcs about him, because he is not my character! His creator is @/emositecc, go to their page of you wanna learn about him!)

Cherri loves Pents kids SO. MUCH. She loves being a mother figure to them

Cherri is closest with Adelaide but she loves them both so so much

Adelaide CAN talk, but she is preferably non-verbal! The only time Cherri has ever heard her talk was when she called her "mama" once (cherri cried)

They were both in Pent and Cherris wedding

I do hc requests!

#hazbin pentious #hazbin hotel pentious #hazbin hotel sir pentious #sir pentious #pentious #cherri bomb × sir pentious #hazbin sir pentious #sir pentious hazbin hotel #sir pentious x cherri bomb #hazbin hotel cherri bomb #cherri bomb hazbin hotel #cherri hazbin hotel #cherri bomb #cherrisnake #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel headcanon

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look-at-the-soul · 2 years ago

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Save yourself- Tommy Shelby x reader

So ages agooooo @runnning-outof-time posted a Kaleo song that I kept listening to over and over again, then @shelbydelrey made a cheating theme celebration 🎉 and I had been working since forever in both ideas but something was missing… until I decided to mix it and this came as the result.

K, I hope you like the result of using this particular song (Idk what idea you had in mind for it), but it gave me these vibes.💖

Isa, I couldn’t decide how to approach this particular theme, but Tommy cheating seemed to come to life by itself… and I hope it’s not too late to celebrate you 💕

⚠️ Cheating, angst

Y/N removed the hat as she walked into the House of Watery Lane, feeling so much better than the previous night, she had to leave the Grand re-opening of The Garrison early after feeling unwell, but after some tea and crackers, the only food her stomach seemed to accept. Polly offered her house because it was closer and she didn’t want to disturb anyone or ruin the fun for them, Ada was finally visiting them, Arthur was the happiest she had seen him in a long time, proud of the new and flashy decoration, and Tommy… well he just was enjoying himself to take him back home just because she was tired and nauseous.

Opening the door, she found a scene she never wanted to see; Tommy, her Tommy in bed with not one, but two women.

It weighs heavier on one's heart

I could tell right from the start that sweet ones are hard to come across

Her heart stopped beating for an instant, while the realization was sinking in… there was an indescribable ache, so hard to breathe… imagining his arms around them, giving those women the same pleasure he gave her endless nights.

He was just as shocked as she was, and quickly he tried to get up, untangling himself from them, shit, what did he do? Y/N didn’t deserved that. As she felt her stomach up in her throat, she couldn’t watch them anymore.

Snapping fast from her trance, she found herself turning around, strangely calmed, a realization hitting her like a bullet, heartbeat now drumming against her ribs, her fingers felt numb, clumsy, as if she had a big cloud inside her head.

She wasn’t going to make a huge drama out of it, she wouldn’t ask for explanations, she didn’t feel like listening to lame excuses to justify his actions. No, she walked out of there in silence, with her heart shattered into million pieces, yes, but she would get over it, just like she had been all of her life.

Tommy rushed to get dressed, shouting for her to wait, he would ask for forgiveness, beg on his knees, tell her it was just a mistake. Fumbling with his pants, he picked up his peaky cap from the floor, breaking an empty bottle of whiskey as he stumbled. Trying hard to tuck in his shirt inside of his pants, but she was gone already. She was the best thing of his fucking life and he ruined.

Heart like yours is rare to find

Someone else's gain will be my loss

Revenge could come in different forms, she could’ve steal all the money from the safe in their room or the one in his office, fuck him over, force him to buy her expensive presents to make it up for it all, she could fuck anyone right there in front of him just to give him back what he did. Anyone would suggest make him pay, make him beg and watch him suffer…

But she wasn’t going to make an scandal. No, her reaction was much lethal than that.

She would leave in silence, without tears, without shouting, no pointing fingers.

He turned out to be just like his father, she knew that would kill him, the comparison.

Choose your words before you speak

Can you see that all you've got is time?

Tommy rushed down the street cursing at himself, feeling the worse headache forming and found her in their bedroom, a single travel bag over the bed, she was calmly folding her clothes.

Just as she packed their bags to go to their country house.

“Y/N please.” Tommy pleaded desperate.

His words meant nothing now, all of those empty promises, the dreams they had together… gone.

Seeing her like that was worse than hear her shouting, breaking things, yelling at him. That would’ve been the expected reaction after what she saw. But she wasn’t even crying or hitting him, he deserved that.

He’d have preferred that, a million slaps than this.

She took a moment to check her belongings and walked towards the dresser to retrieve her passport and important papers. She arrived to this house with just a few things and she would leave just about the same.

“Y/N… nothing I could say could repair what I did, but I swear it meant nothing, it was a mistake, I was so drunk…” she wasn’t even listening to him anymore, it was just a buzz in the back of her mind. “I lost control…” he drank a lot, mixed it with an obscene amount of snow, didn’t even realize…fuck.

Walking into the nursery, she went directly to the first drawer and carefully, took a blanket that Polly knitted for the baby, the nappies and the rabbit that Ada bought for their unborn child. Yeah, she really didn’t need all those expensive gifts he gave her.

“I’ll go somewhere else, you can stay here I won’t bother you,” Tommy kept babbling while she walked past him, back into the bedroom they once shared.

Still in complete silence.

He knew Y/N better than the palm of his hand, he knew he should stay away right now, but he needed her to stop packing, this silent treatment only added more worry and stress to his already altered heart.

And that was the only time she dared to look at him in the eyes, making him wish she never did. Shoving away his hand from her body as he tried to reach her.

Tommy deserved a slap, deserved to have his balls cut, but she wasn’t going to lose time in that.

He started to see white dots when Y/N closed the bag, it wasn’t completely full yet and she seemed to be done.

And not just with the bag, but with him as well.

Tommy rubbed his hands all over his face, lost for words, feeling his entire world coming to an imminent end. It didn’t matter that he was stronger than her, in that very moment he felt so small, so useless, knowing that nothing he did, would make her change her mind.

But he tried, he tried to grab the bag from her hands as she stood at the top of the stairs, still begging for forgiveness.

“Fine, I don’t need that either.” She wasn’t even going to try to fight him over the bag, especially not close to the stairs, she just wanted to leave.

She knew she deserved better, not because she was someone important, but because she knew her value and she wanted respect, simple as that. Birmingham could be his territory, but he wasn’t her owner.

“No no, Y/N, listen to me please…” he rushed down, to stop her from opening the door.

But she was determined to leave, with or without the bag, of course that wasn’t going to stop her.

Before she met him, she had several wooers, with better intentions than him, but he was determined to make her fall for him, and that was the greatest mistake of her life.

Oh darling, save yourself for someone else

“We’ve a story together, Y/N, please…”

Save yourself

Oh, won't you save yourself?

“You can’t take away my child!” He snapped breathlessly, panicking because he was running out of time, of reasons to make her stay.

Are you going to break?

The look Y/N gave him, could’ve easily turned him into stone, a sarcastic smile playing in her lips.

“Now it’s a good time to remember you have a baby on the way, should’ve think of that last night, don’t you think?”

Y/N ripped the bag from his hand.

It would be just her baby and herself, away from this life, away from the risks, away from his lies.

She was unsure of a lot of things, but there was one around her mind in that very moment, sometimes you need to save yourself.

The worst part of it, was that Tommy knew deep down, that Y/N would be better off without him.

***

Master list

As usual, your thoughts are my favorite part 💕

Tag list: @lyarr24 @runnning-outof-time @cillmequick @gypsy-girl-08 @datewithgianni @cloudofdisney @ange-thoughts @gretelshelby @lespendy @onlydeadcells @fastfan @stevie75 @prettylittlehoneyeyesxoxo @esposadomd @strayrockette @forbidden-forest-witch @elenavampire21 @forgottenpeakywriter @zablife @peakyscillian @moral-terpitude @babaohhhriley @shelbydelrey @shaddixlife @sloanexx @cilliansangel @rangerelik

#That’s what Cill said #Tommy Shelby #Tommy Shelby imagine #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x you #tommy shelby x y/n #peaky blinders imagine #tommy shelby fanfiction #tommy shelby fanfic

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alphashley14 · 3 months ago

Text

One of Us

A Scooby Doo: Mystery Incorporated/Mystery Skulls Crossover

<Prev

Chapter 26

Erase Me

There was something good about the Mystery Machine. It was filled with a sort of warmth that never really went away. And almost always, it was filled with sound. Plotting, theorizing, and swapping stories and information while on a mystery. Or in mundane moments, there would be idle chatter, laughter, music or voices drifting from the radio, tapping from Velma’s computer as she typed away, or Shaggy and Scooby munching away in the back seat. And even when the Mystery Machine did fall silent, there was a sort of lightness to be found there; when five friends could find comfort in a familiar place with nothing more than one another’s presence.

It was never a good thing when the Mystery Machine was the other kind of quiet.

This kind of quiet.

The sort of heavy silence when there was an elephant in the room. So many words that needed said - would inevitably be said, but weren’t ready to come out. And yet the five of them were so stuck in their own thoughts that it didn’t seem very quiet at all. But to the sixth occupant of the van, the silence was suffocating.

Before the drive, before the quiet, back at Daisy’s when she and Steven had finally walked back into the living room, the five Mystery Solvers had barely moved and none of them had spoken. Daisy, mascara slightly smudged, had stood in front of her sister and said, “Daphne.”

But Daphne didn’t look at her.

“Daphne,” Daisy said again. And this time she actually knelt down. Daisy Blake, who had never once stepped down to meet her little sister in the middle, knelt down to look her in the eyes. This time, Daphne looked up.

“Steven and I talked about it and… we’ll do it.”

The next few hours passed in a blur. They called the Mystery Skulls back inside and Vivi and Lewis did most of the talking. Logistics. Timing. Whens, wheres, and hows. Plans and backup plans. Numbers were exchanged for if and when those plans changed and so the nitty-gritty details could be hammered out later, and then they were leaving.

Daisy led them out herself, Steven beside her, but as Mystery Incorporated was heading down her front steps Daisy said, “Daphne?” And when her sister turned around, Daisy looked like she didn’t know what to say. Or perhaps like she wanted to say more than what came out. “Just- like… be careful. M’kay?”

“I- uh… okay Daisy. You too.” Daphne stammered, bewildered.

Then they were at the Mystery Machine, and Fred was fumbling with the keys when Lewis gently placed his hand over them. “Fred,” he said, “I’ll drive.”

“Huh? What do you mean you’ll drive? C’mon Lewis, that’s ridiculous,” Fred tried to laugh it off, but he wasn’t fooling anyone.

“Dude,” Lewis said, gently yet firmly, “you guys have been twitchy since… look, you can barely get the car started with how bad your hands are shaking. You are in no state to drive. Please, Fred. Let me.”

And as much as Fred loved the Mystery Machine, he didn’t fight Lewis on it any further. But once they were actually in the van, heading back to the mansion behind Vivi and Mystery in the other vehicle, the quiet set in.

The sort of tense silence that had Lewis very, very worried. What had they seen? Because whatever Mr. E had been facing then, it was what Arthur was facing now!

And Mystery Incorporated knew that. Really, they did. And they were thinking about it. But their thoughts were also elsewhere, elsewhere, and all over the place.

Yet individually, they stood united under one question: How could you?

Mr. E was the one person who believed in Professor Pericles more than anything. The one who gave him another chance, even after everything. His best friend. And he’d-

But that train of thought just made them replay what they’d seen all over again. And that was one thing Shaggy absolutely did not want to do. Just thinking about it made his skin crawl.

He kept having to remind himself that Ricky wasn’t there anymore. He was safe and sound in Shaggy’s body back at the Mystery Skulls’ mansion. And Shaggy was safe and sound in Arthur’s body - but where did that leave Arthur?

It isn’t fair, he thought to himself. It wasn’t fair that Arthur was fighting a battle that wasn’t his own. The way Mr. E had screamed in that video… Arthur had already endured what Ricky had at least once. Had he screamed that way too? Was he screaming now? He shouldn’t be, and it wasn’t fair! But if Shaggy wished Arthur to be safe and sound back where he belonged, then where would that leave Ricky? And Shaggy-

Once his train of thought went down that road, Shaggy shrank in on himself and felt dirty. He wasn’t a stranger to being afraid. Or running away, or wanting to quit. But this time? That kind of thinking made Shaggy feel like a rotten, selfish, ungrateful coward. Because if they could swap bodies one more time and Shaggy had the chance to take their place, he knew he wouldn’t have the strength to do it. And for a moment, he wasn’t sad for Ricky or worried about Arthur. He was just glad that it wasn’t him.

Feeling awful about himself, Shaggy looked up and his eyes wandered to each face in the Mystery Machine. Scooby was laying at Shaggy’s feet, ears drooped. He looked oddly guilty, or as though he was going to be sick. Velma, sitting next to Shaggy, had alternated between looking completely blank or on the verge of tears ever since they’d seen the footage. And from what he could see in the front seats, Daphne was looking out the window and Fred was staring straight ahead. So while he could not see their expressions, he could see the glances Lewis kept giving them; And his face told Shaggy everything he needed to know.

With a sigh, Shaggy looked down at Arthur’s prosthetic arm, flexing the metal fingers thoughtfully. Now wasn’t the time to be feeling bad about what a shitty person he was (which of course only served to make him feel even worse) for one simple and obvious reason: it wasn’t about him. It was about Ricky. Ricky, who had been carrying all of this around from the beginning. Ricky, who had trusted them with one of the most horrible things to ever happen to him, and was probably waiting back at the mansion right now worrying over what their reaction was going to be. Ricky, who was somehow brave enough and strong enough to face what Shaggy knew he couldn’t.

Mr. E.

Who didn’t really have anybody else.

So the five of them would have to do.

༻˚⁺･⚉｡○✼༓☾⦾♫෴♡💛♡෴♫⦾☽༓✼○｡⚉･⁺˚༺

When they arrived at the manor, they found Ricky and Angel in the library.

Not that they were exactly difficult to find. The Dead Beats were diligently patrolling the hallway outside and their voices were drifting down the corridor from the open door.

“-So the first and really only culture to write about the Annunaki and the Nibiru event were the ancient Mesopotamians,” Ricky was explaining. “But there’s evidence of their presence among other cultures under different names. Which obviously there must be at least some truth to because Mystery’s Annunaki ancestors spent time in Japan, and according to our research the evil entity behind the curse, which is an Annunaki, was defeated and imprisoned in Ancient Egypt- oh!”

Ricky stopped mid-sentence and looked up when Mystery Incorporated stepped into the doorway. He and Cassidy had some of the notes the two groups had made yesterday spread out on the floor and the two of them had been laying on their stomachs side-by-side reviewing them. But the moment he saw their faces he sat up and his stomach dropped.

They’d seen it.

Daphne’s eyes were red and puffy, Fred could barely look at him at all, there was no mistaking the pity on Shaggy and Scooby’s faces, and Velma’s eyes were fixed on the floor.

I knew it.

They’d never go back to the way they’d been this morning. All the progress they’d made, and for what? How little they must think of him now. They must be so disgusted…

Ricky could see the Mystery Skulls coming up behind the kids, and even though they hadn’t seen the footage, it was plain on their faces that they were worried. It was also clear even to poor Cassidy, who didn’t fully know what was going on, that something was up. Right as she was sitting up, looking between them, Ricky nervously cleared his throat and stood up abruptly.

“So!” He said, as if ignoring the elephant in the room would somehow make it go away. “How did it go?” Ricky rubbed his hands together and started picking up the notes and books that they were done with, busying himself with stacking them and setting them on tables to quell his nervous energy. “I uh- heard from Lewis that you went to see Professor Hatecraft. I know he’s your friend. Must’ve uh- been nice to see him again. And you’ll have to tell me how it went with Daisy. I know Daphne wasn’t looking forward to it, but I really do apprecia- oof.”

Right as Ricky was setting the first stack on the table, Velma suddenly marched forward, grabbed him by the shirt, turned him around, and hugged him tight around the middle.

Ricky was so shocked by the gesture, much less from Velma, whom he’d wronged more than any of them, that for a stunned second he froze. Eyes wide, arms awkwardly held above her like he didn’t know what to do with them. Did he hug her back? Was he allowed?

“Uhm… Velma…?”

Then finally she whispered, “I’m so sorry…”

Her bottom lip trembled, her shoulders tensed, the tiniest little whimper slipped out, and then she was crying.

“Velma…” Feeling extremely awkward about it, Ricky brought his arms down, rubbing her back and gently patting her hair. And when she didn’t pull away he hugged her back. Then the rest of her friends were around him too - and Ricky didn’t have enough arms for them all. Shaggy’s head on his left shoulder, Daphne’s on his right, Scooby against his hip, and Fred’s cheek leaning on the crown of his head.

They’d never go back to the way they were this morning. And slowly, it dawned on Ricky that it wasn’t because they’d gone backwards.

But any warmth that realization inspired was replaced by a cold dread. Because he could feel Cassidy’s eyes boring into his back and he was fresh out of excuses.

Swallowing nervously, Ricky gently backed Velma off of him, and the other four took the cue to let go as well. “Aw, thanks guys. There there, Velma. It’s alright-”

“No. It’s not,” she said. And now she sounded angry. “I-” she sniffed and dabbed her eyes under her glasses with the thick fabric at her turtleneck. “I cannot believe they did that to you!”

“Reah!” Scooby agreed with a growl.

“Like yeah. Friends like- friends don’t treat friends like that, man!” Shaggy exclaimed.

“Oh It went far beyond treating someone bad!” Velma said, so loudly it bordered on yelling. “It- it was assault! That’s what it was! I just- I can’t believe he- Oh god… Ricky, I- dammit, I know I already said it but I’m so sorry!”

“She’s right,” Fred said. “What they did was- beyond anything I could ever imagine doing to one of my enemies, much less one of my friends. And I can’t believe my real parents-”

“Fred,” Ricky said, his brows coming together, “I don’t blame you. What they did- it wasn’t your fault.”

“Yeah. I know that,” Fred said, sounding every bit like someone who didn’t completely believe it. “But that doesn’t make it any less true.”

“And the way they talked to you!” Velma scoffed.

“No kidding! If Pericles has got one thing going for him, it’s the audacity,” Daphne quipped, hands on her hips.

“Reah! Rit’s not like you asked for anything unreasonable!” Scooby added.

“Like yeah! He totally didn’t!” Shaggy agreed.

“He asked for the bare minimum really,” Daphne said.

“So- Are you okay, Ricky?” Fred asked.

By now, Ricky’s head was ducked as far between his shoulders as it could, and he was positively red in the face with a mix of embarrassment and flattery… and a smile he couldn’t wipe off his face no matter what other emotions were clambering over each other for attention. Everything they were saying- even after seeing it. Even after presumably knowing everything. They weren’t disgusted or treating him like he was made of glass. And in spite of all the words of comfort and wisdom he’d gotten up until now, he’d never felt so validated before.

But of course he couldn’t say all of that without embarrassing himself further. So all he said was, “M’ good. I’m- better than I thought I’d be, actually.” And he laughed when he said it, in spite of himself. “So uh- what exactly did you see? I mean I was under the impression that there was… a lot on that flashdrive. I mean did you watch all of it?”

“Not even close,” Fred said. “We started at what I can only assume is the first time he hit you. And we got to the first time he- did it. Before we uh… sorry. We couldn’t bear to watch any more than that.”

“Couldn’t bear. To watch any more. Of what?”

All six of them froze and had the same thought at once: Shit.

They slowly turned around, and there she was. Brows furrowed, mouth set in a firm line, arms crossed, weight balanced on one hip. Looking positively murderous. Without daring to look away, feeling very much like they were facing a rabid animal, Fred gulped. “You didn’t tell her, did you?” He asked out of the corner of his mouth.

“Most of it, but then couldn’t get the important part out,” Ricky grumbled back. Also out of the corner of his mouth.

“Want us to help you out?”

“No Fred, I’m afraid this is something I have to do myself. But thank you.”

Also not looking away from Cassidy, like she’d jump out and bite somebody at any moment, Velma pulled her laptop out of her bag, stuck the flashdrive in it, and passed it into Ricky’s arms. “All yours, E.”

“Hoh-boy. Like, we believe in you man.” Shaggy laughed nervously.

“Rud ruck,” Scooby said.

“Ranks. I’m gonna need it,” Ricky gulped. And then they were backing away. Not leaving, but lurking just beyond the doorway to give them the space they needed (yet close enough to witness the drama unfold). The Mystery Skulls meanwhile, still respecting Ricky’s wishes and privacy, had made themselves scarce.

Ricky was glad the kids were sticking around, because if they left he would’ve been alone with quite possibly the scariest thing in the entire manor. Had she really been contently laying beside him while they talked just a few short minutes ago? Because now, it was as if the energy of the room itself had shifted.

“What happened to you?” She pleaded. Her voice wasn’t as hard as it had been a moment ago but there was a crack to it already, and she hadn’t even seen it yet. “Ricky. Baby. Please. Talk to me.”

He took a deep breath and nodded. He set the laptop down on a desk between them and opened it right to where the kids had left off. With the screen paused on a scene he remembered all too well. His hands were shaking when he slid the timestamp back to the beginning. Then he looked up at her, still staring expectantly over the top of the screen. And he knew this whole day, waiting for bad news must’ve been torture for her. His mouth was dry and his heart was pounding in his ears. But he remembered the kids. He remembered how seeing it, knowing what had happened to him, hadn’t ruined anything between them.

He hoped the same would be true with Cassidy.

And he told her - he must have. But if anyone asked him what he said, he couldn’t tell you. Even as the words came, it was as if he blocked them out.

But not the look on her face. First anticipation. Then unease. And finally horror. And once he ran out of words and couldn’t bear to see her look at him that way anymore, he turned the laptop around and hit play.

“He’s late,” he heard his own voice, his real voice, say.

Then came Judy’s. “You know he shows up when he means to. I’m sure he’ll be here soon, don’t you think Brad?”

He couldn’t look at her as she watched the scene unfold. Try as he might to tune it out, those voices- that scene started playing in his head and the feelings started coming back in real time, as if he was back in the shoes of his past self all over again. Anxiety. Hope. Pride. Power. Then frustration. Anger. And as the video neared the inevitable tragedy, the feelings of his present self, knowing what was coming, seeped in.

Fear. Fear that grew and swelled into abject terror.

“-If you won’t listen to me,” his true voice said, and his mouth silently traced the words, having played this memory over in his head a hundred times before. Searching for some way it could have ended differently. “-Then you haven’t left me with much choice: Get out…”

Ricky turned around and all but stumbled out of the room. Wanting- needing to get away. He knew how this story ended, but he didn’t want to live it again. The kids made some move to stop him. But he played little heed to their voices and jerked away from the kind hands that reached for his shoulders.

The sounds of his own screams chased him down the hallway as Ricky blindly fled his own memory.

༻˚⁺･⚉｡○✼༓☾⦾♫෴♡💛♡෴♫⦾☽༓✼○｡⚉･⁺˚༺

Cassidy didn’t know what she’d been expecting.

But it wasn’t this.

A torture button? Using what- mutated cobra llarvae?

Who on God’s Green Earth other than Professor Pericles even thinks of that?

After spending time with Ricky in someone else’s body for the past few hours, it was sort of jarring seeing him in his own skin again. Even in a video. But when Ricky of two weeks ago (according to the timestamp) started telling Pericles off, Cassidy sat back, looked up at Ricky, and laughed, impressed.

The far-off look in his eyes and the tremble in his shoulders stole the smile from her face. She looked back at the screen.

At some point, she became aware that he left. And she would have gone after him, but tunnel vision locked her legs in place and her eyes on the screen.

When Pericles pushed that button, when Ricky went rigid, then dropped to his knees, it hit Cassidy right in the heart. Then came the screaming. The begging. The pleading. And she froze.

She had never heard Ricky scream like that. And she never wanted to hear it again.

And Brad and Judy were smirking at one another. Like a pair of naughty children who’d gotten a third into trouble.

And Pericles was laughing.

“I had wondered what sounds you would make,” the parrot sighed, chuckling to himself. “And of course, my sweet Ricky, you did not disappoint me.”

A cold fury seeped into Cassidy’s veins like venom. She had already hated Professor Pericles for far longer than the time she’d once considered him a friend. But at that moment, listening to him laugh and gloat over the sound of Ricky screaming- Angel Dynamite thought to herself for the very first time, I’m going to kill you.

Pericles had finally stopped, but Ricky was still quietly sobbing, his body shaking with the aftershocks when Cassidy stopped the video, unable to watch any more.

There was a painful lump at the back of her throat that Cassidy couldn’t afford to let out. Her hands steepled against her lips, her elbows on her knees, and she closed her eyes and took deep breaths. She wanted to scream. Throw things. March out of this manor right now and put a damn bullet through that bird’s skull. But the kids were still lurking just outside - watching. And Arthur was in there- oh God, Arthur was in there! And above all, Ricky needed her.

Ricky. She opened her eyes. And what did she see? With the video closed, she was faced with a long, long list of files. And it hit her, really hit her, that what she’d seen was only the tip of the iceberg. “Oh sweetheart…” She muttered.

Then one of the file names jumped out at her: “CASSIDY 🗣️🔴”

… What was her name doing there?

For a moment, she was torn. She didn’t want to see any more of Ricky’s suffering. She wanted- needed to go after him. To see him, comfort him, hold him. Reassure herself that even if not in his own skin, she had him.

But that file. It was as if it was calling her. Cassidy. Cassidy!

She had to know.

Cassidy opened the file and hit play.

Ricky was sitting alone in front of his monitors. With the glare, she couldn’t see what he was doing, but he was anxiously bouncing one leg. Brad and Judy appeared on the island behind him and he flinched, but said nothing, trying to ignore them.

“You’ve been on the computer more and more.”

“He sure has, Brad! You’re not allowed on the internet, so what do you do in here for hours on end?”

“There’s been no sign of her for weeks!” Ricky finally said.

“Who are you looking for?”

“Cassidy.” And the way he said it- even while trying to mask it, he sounded so worried. Earlier today came to mind. The look of shock, hope, anguish on his face when he’d seen her standing alive and well at the bottom of the staircase.

“Maybe she finally gave up,” Brad suggested smugly.

“No! She would never give up! She’s gone!”

Again, this morning came to mind. Ricky, screaming those very words at the top of the stairs.

“Of course she’s gone,” Professor Pericles said, appearing onscreen. “Anyone who crosses me gets… eliminated.”

If Cassidy had found the first video hard to watch, seeing Ricky’s heart shatter into a million pieces right in front of her was somehow worse. Again, she remembered this morning. The way he’d hugged her like his life depended on it-

“You were informed she had been taken care of,” Pericles said dismissively. The Ricky on the screen was hyperventilating. Falling to his knees beneath the weight of his grief. His guilt.

She remembered Ricky sobbing into her shoulder, hardly able to get a word out between sobs. ‘I never stopped looking for you and then he told me- he-’

“Would you like to know how she died?” Pericles asked, as if he enjoyed the pain he caused. “If it is any consolation, my sweet Ricky, she likely did not suffer.” Cassidy stood up. She’d seen enough. But as she stepped around the computer she could still hear the audio. “-They say that drowning is one of the most peaceful ways to die. If the explosion didn’t kill her instantly.”

Then she heard two words come out of Ricky’s mouth in such a frigid tone of voice it stopped her in her tracks. “Fuck you.”

“What?” Pericles said. And he sounded just as surprised as Cassidy. She slowly turned around. She never would have expected Ricky to talk to Pericles that way. But then-

“FUCK YOU! You bastard! You were always jealous of her! All because you wanted me all to yourself, you just couldn’t let me have anyone else that I loved! And look at what you’ve done to us! Brad and Judy threw away their own son like garbage for that stupid treasure! Anyone with eyes can see what I’ve become! Cassidy was the only one of us who was strong enough to stay good in spite of that stupid curse - in spite of you! And YOU KILLED HER!”

Then Pericles must have pulled out the button again. Because Ricky made that same horrible choked, strangled sound from the other video. Screaming on the inside, but unable to muster the breath to let it out.

Cassidy slammed the laptop shut with a snap, unable to bear a second more.

There was a beat- maybe two, of stunned silence. Then the music began.

Dramatic violins overlaid with static - all too fitting for the tightness in her chest, the burning in her throat, and the wetness on her cheeks. Right as the deep thrum of the cellos and clarinets joined the orchestra, Cassidy took a deep breath, turned around, and walked out of the library with as much grace as she could. She barely glanced at Mystery Incorporated when she passed them. A few of them were crying, and a few of them had their hands clamped over their ears. The crash of the cymbals all too fitting for what they were feeling. Angel herself was holding her own emotions back by a thread and knew that if she stuck around a second longer, she was going to lose it right in front of them.

She strode up to the nearest Dead Beat. And right as the striking beats were ending and the gentle thrum of the piano began, Cassidy looked up at it with angry, bloodshot eyes and asked it point blank, “Where is he?”

The sad little ghost knew without being told who she was asking about. It pointed a nubby arm and went zipping down the corridor. Cassidy walked after it at first.

So right now I can feel it, feel it overtaking me

Then she couldn’t stand it and walked faster.

So right now, ooooh I can feel it overtaking me.

Then the moment she turned a corner and the kids couldn’t see her anymore, she was running. And when it sped up, she sprinted after it.

'Cause there's, 'cause there's no one in this world that could treat me like 'Cause there's no one in this world that could take me back 'Cause there's no one in this world that could make it fit 'Cause there's no one in this world

Turn after turn, paintings, doors, and suits of armor flew by. Cassidy’s boots colliding with the carpeted hardwood floors echoed through the corridors. Where is he? Where is he?

Erase me Erase my mind again. Erase meeee~, ooooh~ Erase my mind again, love

When the Dead Beat led her into the foyer and went zipping up the stairs, Cassidy dashed after it. Where is he? Where is he?

Erase me Erase my mind again

Cassidy ran after the Dead Beat for what felt like an eternity, but really wasn’t very long at all. They found Ricky on the second floor, having been trying to retreat to the relative safety of his room before his own emotions got the better of him. He was kneeling on the floor leaning against the wall between two suits of armor, clearly facing the tail-end of a breakdown, his hands fisting his hair. She stopped when she saw him, breathless, shoulders sagging with relief. And then she was striding towards him.

Erase me, oh

He turned around when he heard her coming. Red-faced and puffy-eyed he croaked, “Cassidy I-”

Erase my mind again, love!

He was cut off just as the song came to an end, when she dropped to the floor at his side and flung her arms around him. He stiffened, surprised, but a moment later she felt him relax. Only then did Cassidy lean back and, gently yet firmly, she dragged his upper body into her lap and pressed her nose into his soft caramel colored hair. He stretched his legs and curled them in on the floor to get comfortable, and his arms came, gentle yet firm, around her waist.

And she held him; So tight it probably wasn’t comfortable but he didn’t complain - just held her back. Leaning into it with a sigh when her fingers carded through his hair, then stayed there. Ricky had always loved having his hair touched.

Cassidy’s shoulders shook. Her vision blurred. That lump in the back of her throat finally slipped out. And then for the first time in what seemed like forever, she was sobbing.

He muttered her name, muffled with his face pressed into her chest, “Cassidy,” and his arms tightened around her. “M’ sorry…”

“Don’t you-” she sniffed, “dare apologize- hic! It’s just- I… oh Sweetheart… Baby. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry…”

“Yeah,” he said. “I know.”

They laid there together for what seemed like the longest time. There was something unmistakably intimate about their position, and yet in spite of everything that had happened between them none of it seemed to matter.

It did matter. That much should not be mistaken. And they would hopefully work through it. Or they wouldn’t. But that didn’t seem to matter much for the moment either.

All that mattered was that, at least for the moment, he was safe. And he was with her.

-Except he wasn’t.

Because no matter how much she kept telling herself that this was Ricky, and that was enough, her heart still longed for the rest of him. All of him. Complete and whole. In his own skin. As he should be. She missed his face. His voice. His dark brown eyes, even with the bags under them. His beard and thick, silky dark hair. She’d never gotten the chance to touch it, in the five years since she’d gotten to see him again. She remembered being surprised to see it so long, and had caught herself wondering how it would feel beneath her fingers. Or how the rest of him had changed for that matter. How would it feel to lean against him? Or to have his arms around her? Did he still have that scattered peppering of freckles across his back and shoulders? And how much could those constellations have shifted?

It scared her to think of Ricky, even part of him, still in the clutches of someone who only wanted to hurt him. And it horrified her to know that Arthur was in his place. Oh God, Arthur! He was such a sweet guy- a good person. He was the grounding member of the Mystery Skulls, who’d been the best at easing her into… all of it. And he’d never been anything but kind to her. Even going as far as to let her stay in his room while she stayed in Tempo recuperating with his uncle. And now he was in that Hell too. And now? If he really did get himself- get Ricky out of this mess, she didn’t know how she’d ever repay him.

Pericles came to mind again. Looking so proud of himself for what he’d done to the one person who’d stuck by his side the longest. And she didn’t even want to imagine him doing to Arthur what he’d done to Ricky. Anger set her heart ablaze and that thought came again, with even more conviction than the first time: I’m going to kill you.

Suddenly the walls began to scream. Cassidy and Ricky both jumped and scrambled out of their embrace, searching for the source but there was none! The sound was all-encompassing, as if it was coming from everywhere! But then they realized-

Cassidy’s blood ran cold. She knew that scream. And when she looked over at Ricky, she knew he recognized it too.

Because it sounded like him. The real him. Shouting in agony, and begging for it to stop.

In an instant, Cassidy was on her feet and dragging Ricky to his as well. “Come on Ricky!” She said to him, but he was having a freeze response. Staring straight ahead, straight through her. “Ricky! Ricky, look at me!” Cassidy shouted above the din, shaking him slightly, and finally his eyes focused on her face. “We have to find the Mystery Skulls! Come on!” And then she was dragging him down the hall with her as fast as she could. Within a few moments, he was snapped out of it and running after her.

༻˚⁺･⚉｡○✼༓☾⦾♫෴♡💔♡෴♫⦾☽༓✼○｡⚉･⁺˚༺

The paintings they passed along the way were either laughing or cowering in the corners of their frames. And as they ran the screaming got louder, and then the music began.

Erase me, just like before. But the house had never played the same song twice in a row, and this time the music was different. Corrupted. Jagged, almost. Like playing a scratched CD. Around the time the cursed cellos started, the walls began to shake.

When they ran into a swarm of Dead Beats, it became even clearer that something was very wrong. They were ignored when they tried to get the ghosts’ attention and hissed at when they tried to reach out. They were glowing more brightly than they’d ever seen them before and they were shrieking, pulsing, swelling and shrinking in size as they howled and scrambled along the walls like lizards, leaving claw marks in their wake. And they were all heading in the same direction. And as terrifying as it was, they followed.

They arrived right when the piano made its entrance in the song, at the same time as Mystery Incorporated, who had followed the Dead Beats from elsewhere. And they found the Mystery Skulls in what was- should have been an art gallery. The Dead Beats were swirling around the walls in that same panicked frenzy, not knowing where to go or what to do and in the middle of it were Mystery, Vivi, and Lewis. Huddled together staring at the paintings in utter horror.

Ricky, the fastest of them with Shaggy’s body, got there first. “Mystery! Vivi!” He shouted at them above the cacophony. “What’s-” Then he saw what they were looking at, and he let out a gasp of absolute mortification.

S̷o̷ ̷r̷i̷g̸h̴t̸ ̵n̵o̸w̷

He was in every picture frame. Convulsing on the floor in agony back at Destroido. It was as if the contents of the flashdrive had been hung up on every frame! Except- wait.

I don’t recognize that scene. I never would’ve gone anywhere without my coat. And why do I have a bottle of wine - oh dear God.

S̵o̵ ̵r̷i̵g̷h̴t̶ ̵n̷o̶w̸,̵ ̸o̴o̷o̴o̴h̵ ̶ ̷I̶ ̷c̶a̴n̸ ̵f̸e̶e̷l̷ ̵i̴t̵ ̵o̶v̷e̸r̸t̷a̸k̷i̷n̶g̸ ̵m̶e̸.̶

THAT’S ARTHUR!

At once he rushed to their side, dodging Dead Beats as they flew by his head. “Guys! It’s okay! Everything’s gonna be alright! Don’t look at that! Look at me!” Ricky shouted above the din.

C̶̮̓a̷͓͐u̶̗̚s̸̥̕e̴͈̊ ̷̞̕t̶̰̒h̷͖̿é̴͓r̴̘̊e̶̘͌'̷͈̽s̴̜̔ ̷̣̉n̴͈͑ó̵͖ ̸̞̓ŏ̸̹n̶̥̓é̴̯ ̷̍ͅȋ̵͔n̷͖̂ ̷̝͝t̸̮̕h̴̳͂ȉ̸̧š̸̤ ̴̫̋w̷̞̚ọ̷̅r̸̤͝ḽ̶̀d̶̪̉ ̶̦̿t̸̺̿h̵̯̉a̷͎͒t̷͊ͅ ̸̞̈́c̵̥̽o̶̯̚u̸͈͒l̴̟͊d̷̼̆ ̷̗̿t̷̙̒r̷̗̒e̶̯̅à̴̼t̵̙́ ̵̗̈m̸͚̐ē̸͉ ̸̟̍l̶̖͝i̴̻̎k̷̬͠e̵̟̓

When the others saw what he was doing they rushed to join in. “Come on, Mystery! Snap out of it! Do something!” Ricky shouted. But the kitsune was so big and utterly frozen with horror that no amount of shaking or shoving against the creature, even with Fred and Scooby helping, could rouse him.

C̶̨͎͆͒a̷͇̖̽̒u̷̘̲̚ś̷͓ȩ̴̋̎ ̵̹̀̃t̶̢̹̿́h̴̔͜e̷̬̐̀r̶̲̙̔̾ȅ̵̖́'̸̘͕̌s̴̖̩̄ ̷̻̗̋n̸̬̾͝ô̷͈͜͝ ̵̖͈̅̕ō̴̗ņ̴̇̏ẽ̵͖̟ ̴͖͑͐į̴̒̒n̸͙̊ ̸͙͈̅̊ẗ̸̖́̓ḩ̶̎͘í̸̲̜s̷̛̤ ̸̥͑̕w̴͓̄͝ơ̷̩r̵̟̅l̴̝͘̕d̸̠̐ ̵̣̦̚t̴̠̔h̷̞͛͜ả̸̳̖͝t̴̚͜ ̷̹̫͆̚c̶͉̈o̴̧͔͆͒ṵ̵̳̃l̶̪̘̀͝d̷̦̃͐ ̸̻͛t̷̼́ạ̸̡̾͘k̶̮̈e̶̲̜̋͐ ̷͚̉m̶͓̔́e̸͖̳͌̄ ̴̪̍b̴̞̗̀a̸̧͇͂̑c̴͕̆͒k̷̠͍̇͠

Desperate, Ricky looked over at Vivi but she was absolutely inconsolable. Cassidy, Velma, and Daphne were shaking her, blocking her view of the moving pictures with their bodies, to no avail. She was hugging herself, trembling, looking straight ahead with loud, ugly, gasping sobs bursting out of her.

C̵̳̫̪̍̕̕ä̵̞̲̚ų̸̂͋ͅș̶̡̘̔̌ę̴̺͊͂ͅ ̴̡͚͕̋̄t̵̺̹̯́h̸̡̺̐̍̀e̴̥͊͆r̴͈̽̐͜ë̵̹̭́'̷̛̗̖̱s̷͙̖̒ ̵̜̳̥̂̕n̵̰̣͒͠ö̷̜̣͑̔ ̸̥̮͆̏͝ȭ̷̬̦̠n̷̺̰̟͗̏e̷͉͂ͅͅ ̴̨̯̜̓͑͝i̵̳̟͐̕n̶̖̈͋ ̸̞̏́t̵̝͑ḩ̵̬͔͗̀ì̵͍͕͗s̴͈͕̑ ̸̛̤̪̄̇w̵͎̺̚o̸̼̰̊̌̕r̶͓̳̂̃͆ĺ̵͖d̸̲̮̬͗̍̽ ̵͈̿̇̀t̴̟̱̥̅͌h̵̫̞̰͗̇a̴͍͒ṱ̴̋͊ ̵̞͎̪̑̎̓ċ̷͈̖͍̋̀o̷͇͇̖͗̽͠ư̶̙͓̐͐ͅl̷̢̦͋̕͘ͅď̸̹̜̦͝ ̵͍͈̉̌̈m̶̮̏a̵̛̜͉̔̇k̶͍̳͉͒̊e̷̻̠͔̊̂̒ ̵̧̮̫̉ì̷̤̰̈́̍ț̵́ ̸͉͝f̷̛̜̰̦i̷͍͍̒͊t̴͚͎̃͌͝

And that left Lewis. The Master of the House was in his ghostly form, staring wide-eyed at his friend in pain with ugly black tears, like ink, dripping from his eye sockets.

C̴̛̰͈̲̻̽͆͆ą̶̛̠̘̘͉̭́̔̀̀ų̸̮͍͎͉̋́̌͘ͅs̵͙̒͐̐̒̏e̴̢̼̯̰̔̓̓ ̸̡̡̗̦̐ͅṯ̷̨͍̹͇͆͐͘̕h̶̤̋̃̈́̊e̶̲̫͖̒̚̚r̴̨͔̤̩͓̦̂̿̽͌ḙ̶͙̜́͑̀̐̿̓͜'̸̪̳͗̐͑̚s̴̜̫̾̐͘̕͝ ̶̧̈́̑͌͝n̶̛̖͔o̵̧͉̗̮̞̱̓̋̅͌͛̕ ̸͔̊͑̓̚͘͜o̵̬͙̦̎͝n̸̬̲͍̝̄̒͛͒͘é̴̬̹͔͉̗̝̌͛̿͌̎ ̵̨͍͎̞̈́̍̋̃ḭ̸̃̓n̶̡͙̬͈̞̼̈́ ̶̠̩̩̭̟́́̇ẗ̶̢̘̫̬̝̲́h̸̲̙̭̮̙͂̈́ì̵̫̩̲͇̟́s̴̨̒̀̾͂͘ ̸͉́̀̀͗̍̽ẃ̷̤̘ǫ̵̛̪͈̹̤̏̎̚r̶̗͈̦̞̃͘͝ĺ̵̝d̸͕̋

“Lewis! Like come on man!” Shaggy was shouting.

Ë̶̢̦̪̺͍̥͉́̓r̸̜̫̮̝̟̲̓͐̏̚a̷̡̫̗̬͕̱̹̎͝s̵̢̙͙̦͂̓̃̌e̸̯̰͈͙͓͆̐̍͆̽̎̿ ̵̢̞̩͓̑͋̔̕̚m̴̼͓͚̭̫̓̾̀̽̃̒ȩ̵̜̀͌͗̕

“Like dude! You’re the master of the house! You gotta stop this man! Like snap out of it!” And in desperation, Shaggy slapped Lewis across the face so hard that his skull spun around like a top for a moment before the ghost slapped both sides of his face and turned his head around the right way. Dazed, but finally alert!

É̸̛̛̥͇̤͛̋̔r̶̠̯̹̠̹̈̈́͒̀a̶͉̣̝̣̝̾̂̐̊̚s̸̡̫̑̕ȇ̸̡̖̩́́ ̶̡͎͎̟̾̄̎͒̐́͜m̶̨͓̱͂̓͜y̸̹͍̐̈́̈ͅ ̶̣͉̃̂͗m̷̮̣̲̼͓̲͂̅̃̉̉͘̕ĭ̶̧͈̙͐̃̌̏̂̕ń̸͖̗̩̲͒̓̓̎͝d̵͇̠͂͆̃͛̚̕͠ ̴̢͊̊̏å̴̡̧͔̣̩̣̟ǵ̴̻̌̒̎̿̈̀ą̸̯̦̩̼͇̠͠ḭ̷́̌̇͛͗͊͠n̷̥̏́͌͘͠.̶̢͉̱̦̼̬͔̋̔͑̈́̎̽̓ ̶̡̟͕̠̓͐̒̽̋̈͠E̷̻̫̭̼͕̓̄r̶̮͍̅̑̿͐a̴̱͙̟͌͆s̶̹͖̙̖̭͘é̶̢̱̭̬͕̽͌͠͠ ̷̘͘͠m̶̱͖̔͒e̷̝̣͔̾̎̅̌̑͝ĕ̷͙͈̔̓̎͜ě̸̛͇̩̣͔̣̓͝͝ͅe̷̢͓̬̤͔̳͗̎͋̍͊̒~̶̹̩̻̬̊̿̈́̄,̴͓̏̃̒̉̑ ̷̣̯̱̦͌͗̍́̕͝ơ̴̢̟̐͠o̸̢̱̫̞̼͇̣͆̌̿͆ỏ̵͇̖͇͊ö̷̪̰̠̫̟̆̂h̷͇̱͎̰͇̥͒̂͛̓̆͝͠~̷̞͔̝͝

His eyes finally focused on Shaggy, then his gaze darted to Vivi and Mystery. Flames dancing across his shoulders, the ghost looked back at the paintings with fury.

E̸͔̗̪̣͚̤̗͎̘̯͍̣̿̓̓̒̕͜r̸̡̧̬̙̮̝̖̜̖͎̟͓̒̃̔a̷̧͚̭͓̭̻̎̔͆̿́̓̑̋̌͝͝s̴͍̹̯͔͓̙̮̹̓̈́͋̏̂̒͒̓͐͐e̸̝͓̼͑̏̃̾́̌̚ ̴̨͎̗̫̲̜͚͎̯̗̑̏̔̈́̃͑̃̓m̶̨͍̬͉̗̩̺̣͈̼̟̩̿̎̊̊̊ẙ̷̢̧̧̹̞͍̘͎̗͕̤̈̌͗̿̒̒͌ ̸̡͈̺̘͕̱̪̠͉̫͈͚̙̈́͂̔̈̿͛͌̐̉́͌̀́m̸̛̮̞̄i̴̧͕̥͈̠͍̯̘̠̟͈͎̤͎̓͒ǹ̸͍̟̗͐̅͑̿ͅḑ̷̧̧͙̠̠̗̹̥̪̙̇ ̴̭͈́̄̓ą̶̡͇̣̳̖̻̮͉̼̦̲͎͉̳̬͐̔̿͗̂́̈͛̕͠g̸̻̬̙̟̟̦̼͖͇͎̮̑̔̍̑̐̿̎̉͌̾̇̈́ä̶̭͍̺́̊̍͋̋̌͑̆͋̔̾̃͌͝͝į̸̯̦̗͎̜̹̹͖̜̱͍̞̻͈͛̾̆͗̈́̈́̈̇͂͒̈̿̌͠͝͠n̷̢̰̹̭̗̹͙̤̬͕̳̼̺̮̺̂̾͆̇͆ͅͅ,̸̧̧̼̖̞̘͕̤̯̞̗̫̫̑́͐̈́́́̀̔̈̕̕͠͝ ̶̧̡̝͔͎̺͕̱̙͈͙̙̼͖̝̀̉l̷͉̬̩̥̍͌͋͘͝͝ơ̸̢̞̜̰͓͉͇͕͛͊́͊́̆̍̋̾̍̿̀͘ͅv̴̟̬̜͓̟̲̩̜̠̘̤̼̼̘̊̊̆̊e̶̡̨͙̰̘͎͈̝͉̦͕̱͍̾

“ENOUGH!”

There was an explosion of blinding pink light!

And just as suddenly as the screaming had started, it was quiet. The music was off. The screaming stopped. The Dead Beats vanished into corners and crevices unseen. The only sound was Vivi’s crying.

Mystery Incorporated, Ricky, and Cassidy slowly sat up from where they’d hit the deck, looking around partially surprised they hadn’t been torched by the pink fire. And yet none of them were burned and nothing was touched. The torches had been blown out, and the only light came from the cloudy sky outside the large window. Other than that the room was back to just how it should be, with macabre paintings of supernatural creatures and statues of the dead. And in the middle of it all, just as they had been, were the Mystery Skulls.

Vivi’s legs shook, then gave out under her as she sobbed. “Ar-Ar-Arthur! Artie….”

Lewis still looked absolutely stricken, that black fluid still leaking from his eye holes like tar. He made some move towards his girlfriend, “Vivi-” but he stopped, looking torn, and finally his eyes settled on Ricky. “ I’m sorry. I- it was an accident we- I- we didn’t mean to-... I’m sorry. I have to go!” And then in a flash of pink fire, he was gone.

And then there was Mystery. Once the images stopped, the kitsune was finally shocked out of his stupor and his gaze dropped to the floor. Large, fat tears dripping silently down his snout.

There was a sort of tension in the air, like the calm before the storm. Did the others feel it too? Either way, Daphne was the first to move. She dropped beside Vivi and pulled her into a hug, trying to comfort her, and Velma and Scooby joined in to do the same. Cassidy, Fred and Shaggy stood up as if they didn’t know what to do, and when Ricky stood up, something told him to be very, very careful.

“Mystery?”

“Ricky!” Cassidy hissed at him quietly, and when Ricky looked over at her he could see it on her face: she felt it too.

But he’s my friend, Ricky thought. And he remembered how Mystery had comforted him more times than he cared to recount. So he continued on anyway. With careful, deliberate footsteps towards the creature. “Um- are you-”

“He trusted you.”

That voice. Inhuman. Part growl, part hiss. The only time Ricky had heard anything remotely like it was when Mystery had lost his temper back in the conservatory. But this was different. It was so loud, so deep, so powerful that it froze Ricky dead in his tracks, reverberated deep in his chest, made his skin break out into gooseflesh. And when Mystery turned, a new set of crimson markings were on his face and the only thing in his glowing red eyes was pain and rage. Rage that raised his hackles and bared his fangs. Rage that sent pale mist rising from his shoulders and made his snowy coat glow like a silver flame. And Ricky realized then that he, in fact, had never seen Mystery lose his temper.

“Mark TRUSTED YOU with his BOY…”

Ricky’s heart seized for an entirely different reason. Mark? Mark Owens? Dad?!

But that train of thought ended when Mystery snarled,

“And now you DARE HARM MINE?!”

That was when Ricky realized he was growing. Seven tails lashed menacingly behind him as the kitsune swelled in size until he positively towered over them, almost incorporeal. Glowing, as if his body was made of smoke while curses rumbled out of him in Japanese, in English, in tongues that had never been spoken by man! Until finally Mystery raised his head to the ceiling and everyone’s hands snapped over their ears when he let loose a bellow that shook the house to its very foundations! Then as swift and smooth as the wind itself, the kitsune leapt over their heads and out the window with a howl and the piercing scream of shattering glass.

Ricky’s last glimpse of Mystery as he rushed to the window after him was a white blur vanishing into the dark mass of jagged branches surrounding the manor. And he was gone.

For a few beats of stunned silence, the only sound was Ricky’s heart pounding in his ears and the soft rumble of thunder overhead. Then right as the first raindrops were starting to fall from the dark sky above, Ricky shakily turned around. To Vivi, still sobbing on the floor. And to the others: Cassidy, Fred, Velma, Daphne, Shaggy, and Scooby. All staring out the broken window with the same question written on their faces: what do we do now?

༻˚⁺･⚉｡○✼༓☾⦾♫෴♡💔♡෴♫⦾☽༓✼○｡⚉･⁺˚༺

Thunder boomed overhead as the storm rolled in and began to unleash its fury upon the land below. Soon the rain began to fall in sheets, hiding the Earth in a gray haze of falling raindrops. But even still, as he ran the trails beneath Mystery’s paws were familiar. Smells and shapes, similar yet changed, that he’d seen a thousand times before flew by as he squinted through the rain. Leaping over roots, stones, and creeks. The forest whispered to him like an old friend welcoming him home, but Mystery was too far gone for niceties. Breathless and furious.

How could you? How could you? How could you?!

He trusted you. He trusted you. He trusted you!

With a roar, Mystery burst out of the treeline and was met with a familiar hillside. The familiar sound of waves crashing against the rocks. A familiar church silhouetted black against the sky as lightning cracked across the heavens behind it.

But the god this temple had been built for had long-since forsaken it, and a demon had taken its place.

Mystery’s ears laid flat against his skull as he let loose another otherworldly shriek and took off across the grass. So fast his paws seldom touched the ground. The same ground where all those years ago he’d sniffed and searched until he knew every blade of grass, and still he’d found nothing!

When he reached the top of the hill, the Old Spanish Church towering above him, Mystery exploded through the double doors and screamed, “YOU!”

But another crack of lightning was his only reply.

“You VILLAIN! You COWARD! Did his screams delight you?!” The kitsune roared into the storm as he paced across an empty floor, looking around at shattered stained glass windows and fallen arches.

“I thought I’d won when I denied you the blood of my children, but I see now that I gave you what you wanted! My old nemesis! Have you enjoyed these twenty years of free reign? Drawing power from the pain you’ve caused? DID YOU THINK THIS DAY WOULD NEVER COME?! Well hear me now you disgraced, twisted, FALLEN GOD! My vow was no bluff!” He hissed and spat, and though he received no answer, he knew that it could hear his every word.

“This has all happened before, but OUR story won’t end the way you want it to!” Mystery swore, as lightning split the sky and the wind clawed at his fur. “I’ve taken back Jasmine’s daughter and Mark’s son,” he hissed, chuckling darkly. “By your enemy’s blessing, I have your newest opponents at my side. You tried to kill my children when they were small, but now they’re grown and they are strong, strong, STRONG. Ready to fight you just as their predecessors did five hundred years ago, a hundred years ago, twenty years ago! But you won’t survive it this time. I’ve brought them back just as I promised I would.”

A mad grin split across Mystery’s face as he roared into the storm.

“-AND WE’RE GOING TO KILL YOU!”

Well that was intense. Not gonna lie - this chapter wasn't an easy one to write for that very reason. Ain't NOBODY having a good time right now. 🙁 (But I had so much fun with the formatting and fanart for this chapter for that very reason. 😜) Seriously I put my whole soul into the fanart for this chapter, and I'm so proud of how it came out!!! Good thing too, because I had two other pieces planned for this chapter but uh... they didn't work out. 😅 I have part of a plan for chapter 27 and a whole-ass plan for chapter 28. But plans can always change and no promises as to when either of those will be completed OR posted. Because yay me - I just started college classes again. (And that's not a complaint. Actually I'm having a great time.) So to say the least, I'mma be a busy bish. Please let me know what you thought of the chapter and art!

And of course! Here's the tag list for all the beautiful people who wanted to be notified when each chapter is up. If you want to be added or removed from this list, then feel free to DM and let me know!

@void-lioness @nikicherry1234 @angorwhosebabyisthis @lunasummers04 @orithereticent @mysteryskullsblog @the-moogle-of-your-nightmares @sfcabanasstarcgs

Chapters 1-25 of 'One of Us' are presently posted on Archive of Our Own!

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live-laugh-lenney · 9 months ago

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a part two to this arthur blurb was asked for... and i've delivered... i hope so, anyway. let me know what you think! absolutely in my feels and pumping these out like there is no tomorrow so if you wanted to send in anything that we can discuss and chat about then feel free! i'm just gonna melt away in my arthur feels right now.

a knock on her door startles her.

the towel that was scrunched in her hand was thrown onto her bed, her clean clothes were laid out on her vanity unit and ready for when she came out from her bath, candles already lit and flickering in the corners of her bathtub and emitting smells of berries around the room. a chosen bath bomb sitting and waiting to be used - which would only have to wait a little longer until she got rid of whoever was at the door.

her guess was that it was chris on the other side.

with some sort of apology wracking his brain that he stumbles over when he comes face to face with her after she opened the door. his tongue fumbling the words with profanities leaving his mouth as he tried to form a sentence. because he didn't know his boundaries, at times, and he really didn't want to upset her or make her feel at all uncomfortable in certain situations.

or george.

who would simply pop by to check on her and to make sure that she wasn't actually upset. to inform her that they really weren't being mean or anything, they were just teasing and that they soon realised it was a sensitive subject once she'd left.

but it was neither.

it was arthur.

still looking sleepy with his eyes looking heavy, still dressed in the clothes he'd chosen to take a nap in - a oversized, black jumper and black football shorts, white socks pulled over his ankles and a pair of trainers on his feet which she'd seen before she left his flat - and he had a concerned look on his face that she couldn't tear her eyes from.

"hello, sleepyhead."

"you left," he frowns and she moves aside to let him into her flat; and, really, there was no different in how their flats were laid out. she still had the extra rooms which she managed to convert, with the help of the boys, into different rooms - a small studio, for her to practice her yoga and her at-home workouts in, and a home office for her to work in - and she still had the same looking open-plan floor that arthur was used to in his own home. "are you okay?"

"i'm fine, i was just messing with the boys," she informs him and he gives her a confused look as she closes the door behind him, "i came home for a bath, to be honest. they just gave me ammo to leave in a dramatic fashion."

"oh," he nods softly and, in his mind, he felt stupid. of course the boys would never say anything that would truly upset her... and if they did then she would have blown up in the middle of their flat instead of walking away, "well, now i feel silly."

"don't be," she smiles softly and his lips curl into a gentle smile, his cheeks pink and his eyes crinkling at the corners, "i was coming back tonight anyway. there's a new film on amazon prime that i wanted to make you lot watch."

she watches as he takes refuge on the arm-chair of her living room, kicking off of his trainers and sticking his feet up on her coffee table, ankles crossing. and he really makes himself at home, grabbing her tv remote and turning on her television, cosying down on the cushions as she saunters into her kitchen.

"do you want a drink?"

"if you have a beer, i'll take one," he looks over his shoulder and up and over the back of the arm-chair and she rummages through her fridge because she knows she had one can of moretti left over from their last gathering round her flat, "if not, i'll just take a wat-"

he's interrupted by the sound of the can hissing open and he grins.

"i'll just stay here until you're finished, if you want? we can go back to the flat together," he suggests and she blushes at the offer; and that would just really please george and chris, and she could hear every single sentence of the relentless teasing they would give to the two of them once they see them arrive together, "only if you want to? i can always give it five minutes and then head-"

"no, it's okay," she smiles and passes the can of beer over to him, "i'll just take a shower instead. baths tends to last until the water goes cold."

she walks back over to her bedroom, feeling his eyes lingering on her back as she walks away from him, her feet coming to a halt in her doorway.

"arthur?"

"yeah?"

"do you- uhm," she gulps thickly and she can feel nerves bubbling in her stomach as she turns around and she didn't want to dig herself into a hole that she couldn't climb out of and she didn't want to ruin something that they had going for them; a good friendship where she felt the happiest, "i, uhm, i think-"

"jeez, i thought i had a bad stutter," he laughs softly and she rolls her eyes in his direction, "you can talk to me without feeling nervous, you know?"

"do you, maybe, uhm- do you want to go and grab dinner sometime this week?"

his eyes widen and he almost chokes on the sip of beer he took from the can, leaning forward to place it on a coaster on her coffee table before coughing into his hand and clearing his throat. her own eyes widening because, for god sake, why did she say it to openly? with a nervous stutter? she should have just left it. carried on as if she had no sort of feelings towards him because he clearly didn't feel similar feelings towards her.

"you beat me to it," he murmurs softly, rubbing the back of his neck nervously, "i was going to ask you."

"you were?"

he nods and she tries to stifle the grin that wants to burst open on her lips but she fails, teeth bearing and her cheeks stretching and she really can't contain the happiness she felt knowing that the feelings she felt towards him were reciprocated.

"well, i was going to text you and ask because asking you to your face was making me nervous but- yeah, i was going to ask you on a date," he slowly stands to his feet and she feels giddy as he makes his way over to her, a bob in each step that he took closer to her, "i've had chris in my ear for the last week telling me how i should just man-up and ask you out."

"oh, god. he brought it up with me earlier," she laughs softly and he stops in front of her, toe to toe, "i gave him the dramatics and walked out, that's why i left. no point denying it so i just never said anything."

she felt his fingertips brush over her hands and she welcomed his hands into hers, holding them tightly and squeezing them softly, feeling how soft and gentle the pads of his fingers were. how soft the entirety of his hands were. smooth and gentle, not a callous in sight.

"he's persistent. he's got george going on it, too," she adds, "but hey. he's my best friend. he's your best friend. i guess that's what they do."

"i guess without it, without them, i'd probably be back in my own flat and not standing right here, right now," he says softly and she's sure - no, she's 100% certain - that he's slowly leaning in a little closer with each passing second, "with you."

"they're never gonna live this down, are they?"

arthur shook his head and it was only in that moment did he realise just how much of a height advantage he had upon her. her whole stature coming to just below his neckline and he felt like a giant in front of her. but she didn't mind; heck, if she was being honest, the extra few inches he had on her made him all the more attractive.

"they'll absolutely bathe in the glory of thinking they set us up," he states and it's only a matter of seconds before he drops his forehead onto hers, "we know otherwise but we can let them think what they wish. if it makes them happy."

his warm breath washes over her face and it really takes everything within her to resist the urge of completely wrapping him up in her arms and delving into the deepest, most passionate kiss she could muster up to let him know just how much she wanted it to happen.

"i can't be annoyed with him though. knowing him got me knowing you," she whispers softly and his hands drop hers so he could cup her cheeks in the palms of his hands, "that is one he can have."

his thumbs rub over the tops of her cheeks, just below her eyes, and she wants to melt under his gentle touch.

"so, dinner?"

"you choose, surprise me," she grins and she pulls away from him, turning around and entering her bedroom, "give me fifteen minutes and i'll be ready. then we can go and deal with the two of them."

"how about we just, not tell them?"

"what? and carry on denying everything?" she wonders and he gives his shoulders a shrug, "i just want them to know, arthur."

"we can tell them, just- we can tell them after our date?"

she grabs her towel and walks into her bathroom, hanging it on the hook behind her door, blowing out the candles that were already lit and burning at the wick. she heard her bed springs creak under his weight and as she closed the door, she couldn't help but let out all of the giddiness that she had been feeling. pumping the air with her fist and using her other hand to cover her mouth as she whispers soft 'oh my god's out in the open.

that bath bomb was going to have to wait even longer now.

if you read this far then let me know what you think! thank you! xx

#arthurtv #arthur frederick #arthurtv imagines #arthur frederick imagines #arthurtv headcannons #arthur frederick headcannons #arthurtv fics #arthur frederick fics #chaos crew

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vi1223 · 5 months ago

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Stephanie Brown ran as quickly as her legs could take her, refusing to look back at the scene behind her.

The moment she heard her father's heavy boots staggering up the stairs, her whole body froze. She squeezed the 2B pencil in her hand tightly, as she heard him fumbling with his keys.

"Godammit, Sharon! Where are my fucking keys?"

Stephanie turned towards her mother, pupils blown wide in fear, desperately shaking her head with a silent plea. Her mother, with her frazzled hair and bags under her eyes, gave her a small smile that did nothing to reassure her. She watched as her mother patted her apron and approached the door, a forced smile spreading across her face.

"I'm coming dear...."

The moment the door swung open, Arthur Brown burst into the room, a bottle in hand. The smell of burgundy wafted into the room, nauseating her nose. He was fuming, at what Stephanie wasn't sure but she bit her lip and kept as quiet as she could, praying he wouldn't notice her. His eyes swept across the room and landed on her.

"Well, kid? Show some manners, will ya?

She plastered on a big smile.

"Wel....Welcome home, daddy....."

He staggered forward, a hand reaching out towards her. She flinched away from his touch, expecting the worst, when a large hand clamped down on her head. He mused her hair with a chuckle.

"Good girl...."

He patted her head like a dog as he took another swig of his beer before staggering away. Stephanie made a quick sigh of relief. He whipped and chugged the bottle as he lunged towards the sofa.

"What's for dinner, woman?"

Stephanie watched as her mother fiddled with her apron nervously.

"The chicken's in the oven and I'm making mash pota...."

A piercing sound of glass shattering filled the room. Stephanie jumped out of her chair in shock as her father suddenly jump up from the couch, smashing his glass bottle against the wall. Glass shards and alcohol littered the walls and floor of their little two room apartment.

"Chicken? Chicken? I asked for roast beef?"

Arthur Brown rose to his full height, towering over his wife and waving the smashed glass bottle like a bat. The woman leaned against the wall, cowering in fear as the man shouted strings of profanities and curses at her.

Stephanie had seen enough, she dashed out of the room and ran as fast as her little legs could take her. She cowered under her bed in fear and reached for the landline.

She quickly dialled "911" as she covered her ears.

"Pick up.... pick up.... please somebody....."

"Thank you for calling 911, how can I help you?"

She let out a deep breath.

"Yes, hi... um, I need help...."

"Hi, sweetie. What's your name?"

"I'm Stephanie Brown....."

"Hi, Stephanie, how can I help you?"

"Um...."

Stephanie didn't know what to say. She was about to response when a loud crash could be heard from the next room. Stephanie flinched.

"Stephanie honey, what was that?"

"That... That's my dad.... He's drunk...."

"He's drunk... ok sweetie, I need you tell me where are you?"

Furious typing could be heard from the other line.

"I'm in my room. Under my bed...."

"You're under your bed? Ok good.... Can you give me your address?"

"Um....I dunno....it's a small apartment."

"That's alright sweetie, the GCPD are on their way. Do you think you could give me a description of your building or apartment?"

Stephanie gave the description to the best of her ability but suddenly her father burst into her room.

"Where are you, little brat?"

Stephanie hiccuped in fear. Arthur noticed and dragged her out from under the bed. He noticed the phone in her hand.

"Who are you talking to? That better not be the cops!"

He quickly snatched the phone out of her hand and crushed it with his foot. Stephanie gasped in shock. He sneered at her as he left the room.

"You better clean this up, woman! That stupid brat called the coppers!"

Stephanie peaked out of her room to see her mother frantically sweep up the glass and mop the floor, wiping her puffy red eyes with her apron.

Moments later, the GCPD showed up. Arthur Brown opened the door with a wide smile. He had sobered up a little and had even managed to groom himself.

"Officers, what's the issue?"

The GCPD looked at him unimpressed.

"Somebody called for domestic violence?"

Arthur made a big show of acting unimpressed.

"That's just my daughter. She loves making prank calls."

"We need to have a look around the house."

Arthur shrugged.

"Be my guest. I was just having a little drink after work, you know to unwind. And my wife was watching some cheesy romcom...."

Stephanie frowned, she forgot how convincing a liar her father could be, even half drunk. He was a performer after all.

The cops looked around the room. There was nothing except a couple of bottles of beer and a sniffling woman watching a romcom.

"Alright, but we still need to talk the girl who made the call."

"Of course, Stephanie...."

Steph stumbled into the room. One of the cops knelt to her eye level.

"We need to have a little chat about your call, is that alright?"

Stephanie nodded as she followed the men out.

"Why did you call the police?"

Stephanie bit her lip, unsure of what to say.

"You can't just call the police anytime you like. Your parents obviously loves you, you don't want them to go to jail right?"

Stephanie shook her head unsure of what to say. The officer patted her head.

"Alright, be a good kid."

With that, they left. Stephanie sighed, in exhaustion. She headed back inside and noticed her mum hiding in the kitchen. She peeked in curious. In her hand, she held a tiny ziplocked packet of white powder. Stephanie gasped.

"Mum?"

She bursted out in shock.

The woman turned around to face the girl, quickly hiding the packet in her pocket.

"Mum, is that...?"

"That's nothing for you to be concerned about.... Go finish your homework, alright?"

She stroked Stephanie's head before heading into the master bedroom. Stephanie sighed as she trudged back into her own room. She looked out the window and saw the bat symbol. She put her hands together and prayed that someday Batman would save her too.

#batman #stephanie brown #arthur brown #dc comics #batfam #spoiler #batgirl #cluemaster #dc universe #dcu #bat symbol #gcpd #gotham #gotham knights #dc batman #dc batfam #dc batgirl #dc spoiler

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merlinemrys · 1 year ago

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remind me to write a mergwenthur fic where merlin and gwen have to pretend to be nobles who are courting for ~some reason~ idk idc but arwen’s together and arthur begrudgingly agreed bc merlin is the only man both he and gwen are okay with doing this façade and arthur has zero belief that this scheme will work bc he’s never really seen merlin court anyone and gwen—while she did have a crush on that awkward country boy when he first arrived at camelot—doesn’t know how merlin would fair in stuff like dancing and romance bc she also hasn’t seen much of him be romantic!

cut to a dance scene where merlin blatantly flirts with gwen and gwen’s all flustered and giggly and wide-eyed bc oh dear gods he’s so attractive and he’s so charming and you have arthur in the corner or whatever swallowing his tongue bc he has never seen merlin act with so much confidence, like he was born to charm his way into people’s lives and he realised he can’t even feel a single ounce of jealousy bc he wonders what it’d feel like to be the object of merlin’s affections.

and when arthur and gwen are alone, gwen admits, her hand coming up to the base of her neck where merlin’s touch lingered, “i didn’t think he’d be so good at courting.” and then she fumbles, continuing, “not that i thought he’d be bad at courting—it’s just that i rarely ever saw him—oh goodness. you know what i mean.”

and arthur laughs and tucks a lock of her hair behind her ear before tipping her chin up. he thinks of merlin and gwen on the dance floor, twirling beautifully and capturing the attention of everyone around them while they only had eyes for each other. “merlin’s full of surprises.”

annddddddd idk i never thought of anything other than this ngl

#shows #bbc merlin #mergwenthur #merwenthur #arthur pendragon #arthur #gwen #merlin #merlin prompts #text #tais toi lys #*

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klutzyroses · 2 years ago

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IkeVamp: S/o jealous of their wife

What happens when his wife from his former life is revived and lives in the mansion but he has a girlfriend now? And she begins to feel insecure and worried that he will leave her for his former love and is scared to tell him?

Suitors: Napoleon, Mozart, Arthur

Warnings: Bit of Angst with a Happy Ending, Slight NSFW

Napoleon

When she first laid eyes on Josephine de Beauharnais, Y/N felt the slightest twinge of discomfort in her stomach.

She was, is a beautiful woman, no question about it. Intimidatingly so.

At first she pushes down the tense knot in her stomach. Napoleon is with her. Napoleon loves her.

"But for how long...?"

The little voice in her head prods, leaving a deep dent on her heart even as she shoves it away. When Napoleon and Josephine begin to spend time together, it's like they were never apart. They seem to break any tension present between them like it was nothing, within days. They talked, laughed together and reminisced together. They clearly had a strong bond and reconnected so seamlessly, so effortlessly and it bothered her to no end. To hear them discuss the pass, laugh over their shared moments.

Y/N didn't want to admit it to herself and especially not to him but...It hurt. It hurt to see the man she loved connect with another woman on such a deep level. Worse still, it was to be expected. She was his first wife after all, and she had heard from Sebastian that historically, Napoleon was absolutely smitten with her.

He wasn't doing anything wrong. It was perfectly innocent, friendly play. But she can't help but worry as she gazes upon the beautiful empress. She was beautiful, powerful, elegant...everything Napoleon deserved...everything she felt she wasn't.

Y/N didn't want to seem controlling, nor did she wish to get into the habit of dictating who he could or could not be friends with. So she stuffs down her feelings and kept reassuring herself that he wasn't going to leave her.

With that in mind, she keeps a bright smile for her loved one, yet they bubble just beneath the surface, waiting for just the slightest mishap...

That mishap came in the form of a joke made by Arthur. She had been serving dinner to everyone alongside Sebastian when...

"I say, you're quite the pair, 'Leon, it's like the two of you are still married!"

CRASH!!

Several eyes turn to Y/N, startled as she stands there looking like someone had plunged a knife into her, her grip loosening on the plate in her hand. She yelps and fumbles, frantically mumbling apologies to Sebastian and promises to clean up. When a concerned Vincent asks if she is okay, her answer is a flustered affirmation, but the Emperor can sense a crack in her voice, a sadness in her eyes before she rushes off into the kitchen after cleaning it up. His worry amplifies when his nunuche never comes back.

Her room is his first destination after dinner. He can feel his heart twisting upon entry when he sees his belle sat on the bed, her shoulders shaking as she dabs her eyes with a tissue, illuminated by the moonlight streaming through her window.

He doesn't hesitate to take her in his arms, tilting her head up so they were eye to eye.

"What happened nunuche? Tell me what's wrong?"

When she blurts out everything she is and has been feeling, it's Napoleon’s turn to feel like he's been stabbed in the heart. He cups both her face, his jade eyes stern and almost fiery with passion as he speaks.

"You're ridiculous. Why are you thinking like that, nunuche? Why didn't you tell me? Don't you remember...I was reborn in this world to be with you, as a normal man, living only to protect and love you. Your body, your heart and your mind...I'm not going to let them go so easily. Josephine and I, that's in the past, I love her, but as a friend. You, though....you are my future, Y/N. You're the only one for me."

His lips gently collide with hers, pressing until the woman falls on her back onto the bed, the Emperor climbing on top of her. When he pulls back, his eyes are alight with desire and love, a smirk finding its way across his handsome face as he peers into her lovely, flushed visage.

"You're the only one, ma nunuche. And I'm going to prove it."

Mozart

Meeting Constanze Mozart was a...slight awkward affair. Especially when Y/N was introduced as Mozart's lover.

Of course she didn't shy away from her, Y/N had nothing to be ashamed of, and it wasn't as though Mozart didn't make it clear that he had moved on with her.

However, that doesn't make her feel any better when she realizes how close Mozart and Constanze were and...still kind of are.

They clearly have a deep, profound mutual understanding for one another and he seems so soft and gentle with her. The way Y/N saw it from where she stood, it took ages for her lover to start warming up to her and Constanze seemingly had him as putty already. It felt like being punched in the stomach.

Historically, Mozart was possessive and positively enamored with his wife and his current love could definitely see why. The lovely Constanze is graceful and beautiful and her singing voice is like no other. No wonder she used to have Mozart wrapped around her pretty finger. Y/N's worry is that she may still have him wrapped around her finger.

She doesn't want to start any kind of argument by potentially bringing her feelings of insecurity into it. Mozart himself may be the jealous type but it felt like a different story entirely when the woman that Y/N was jealous of was the wife he once adored. No matter how she puts it in her head, any attempts at bringing it up sound accusatory and that is the last thing she wants.

So, just to get a sense of whatever she may need to worry about, she asks Jean his opinion, as he is the person closest to him and could understand his mindset.

Jean, for his part, may have not had much to say about Mozart's closeness to his former wife, but he does share that he genuinely believes Y/N had no reason to worry, which assuages the beauty's concern slightly.

However, the girl should have perhaps specified to Jean that this exchange was to remain between the two of them and was not supposed to get back to Mozart.

Because when a very unhappy musiciam marches up to her that evening, Y/N knows. She just knows.

She doesn't fight him as he drags her off to his room, instead keeping her gaze to the ground the whole time, trying to find any words that could ease the situation, but she doesn't get the chance to speak as her elysian lover speaks first, looking less than pleased, his violet eyes slightly crackling with displeasure.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

She contemplates playing dumb to stall for time but the darkening of his eyes deters her from doing so. He looks upset...really, really upset.

"The truth, Y/N."

She has no choice but to unload her fears and concerns to him in a torrent of emotion, having bottled it up far longer than her sweet heart could take. She feels her throat begin to close up at the end of it, unable to say much more as she glances upwards to avoid her beautiful orbs overflowing with tears. Not once does Mozart interrupt or even speak. He doesn't even seem to visibly react, even after her weak voice trails off. Not until he starts making his way over to her, slowly, silently, but with a hint of menace in his step, causing his beloved to take a step back until she meets the wall.

Soon she is caged by both his arms as he leans in close to her, a serious expression written into his porcelain features, leaving her unable to escape anywhere. Not that she particularly wants to at that moment.

"...If I had known you were going to be this foolish, I'd have reconsidered spending that much time with her. I thought you were smarter than that but apparently I thought wrong."

His words are harsh but his expression begins to soften as he keeps her caged in close to him, his voice lowering to a near whisper.

"I assumed you knew. You are the precious treasure of my life. I've told you that before, haven't I? What part of that wasn't clear to you? Even when I'm with her, all I think about is you as I compose. Make no mistake, mein Schatz, I have no intention of letting you go. And I most definitely do not appreciate you going to another man about your problems. From now on, I demand you come to me, for whatever you need. I won't have it any other way."

He catches a stray droplet of sadness sliding down her cheek, caressing her skin with long delicate fingers before gripping her chin. He gives her a slow, sultry simper that promises nothing short of pleasure.

"It seems like I have to remind you of how much you mean to me. I hope you're ready, because I won't be going easy on you."

Arthur

Upon meeting Jean Elizabeth Leckie, Arthur's second wife, Y/N knows immediately why he had been so captivated by her. She was a kind and likeable woman and treated her with respect.

She was charming, lovely, honestly. And that's probably what has her heart tightening up so much when the charming lady smiles at Arthur.

This only gets worse when Arthur seems to respond with an equally charming smile.

Y/N can't help but wonder if there might just a little spark still left between them. They were still so in sync after all. Of course she wouldn't say this aloud, especially when Arthur is so open about the fact that Y/N is the only apple of his eye now.

For the woman, it's bad enough that she has to put up with her boyfriend's past flings and admirers throwing themselves at him, sometimes while she is there, not that she blamed Arthur for this, but now here is a woman who at one point, genuinely and truly had his love.

Y/N can only blame herself for asking Sebastian what the relationship between Arthur and Jean was, only to receive the tortuous answer that his last words to Jean were that she was wonderful. She honestly walked right into that one.

She doesn't want to confront him, simply because she knows that if she asks, Arthur would distance himself from Jean and potentially lose a friend or...someone he really cares about.

And that is not the type of girlfriend she wishes to be. She doesn't want to be the kind of girlfriend that makes Arthur choose between her and his friends. The kind that makes him wary of who to be friends with. She wants to believe she is open minded, she wants to be understanding, she doesn't want to smother him. After all, isn't that the easiest way to drive away the man she loves?

So the only thing she could really do is smile and act normal. After all, Arthur hasn't done anything wrong. He is only reconnecting with someone he was close with. Being friends with one's former lover wasn't a bad thing. She should be proud of him in fact. Most people didn't get on with their ex-spouses, no?

With that logic, she is able to rationalize her jealousy and stop it from getting out of hand...for a bit.

However, her depressed demeanor does not go unnoticed by her beloved detective. The mystery author is not blind. He could see that lately, his darling has been feeling blue as of late. He suspects it might have something to do with Jean. He isn't absolutely sure but he suspects it.

However, this is only confirmed when he stumbles upon a conversation between the house butler and his love.

Y/N felt low enough that night to confide in Sebastian as they're doing the dishes together. Just to alleviate some of the worries she was feeling deep down.

"Sebastian...am I overreacting? I'm being ridiculous aren't I? Being so upset about nothing."

"I think it's more ridiculous you're invalidating yourself. I personally don't believe you should be worried, but I understand why you are. Master Arthur will too."

"Sebastian...I don't want to tell him who he can and can't be around, that's not fair. I don't want to be...that kind of girlfriend."

Sebastian nods in understanding, a look of sympathy in those grey eyes before they peer over the maiden's head and land on the doorway, realizing he and Y/N were no longer alone, unlike the oblivious beauty herself.

"Well, I personally think, luv, that he knows you are a wonderful person and he would never think so lowly of you. I also think that there is no woman in the world that is more loved by me than you, my darling."

The girl spun around, her eyes wide with sheepish shock as her butler colleague hides a surreptitious smile. The writer walks up to her and takes her hand kissing the top of it.

"I'd have preferred you just talked to me about it, love, but I'm glad to hear the truth. Now I can do something about it. Sebas, you don't mind if I steal this lovely lady for the night?"

With Sebastian's permission, Y/N finds herself swept off her feet. Quite literally as she is carried away towards Arthur's room, a suggestive smile playing on his lips.

"You may want to postpone any plans you may have had this evening, because I plan on keeping you to myself tonight. Prepare yourself, luv~"

🌸

#cybird ikemen #ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikevamp napoleon #ikevamp mozart #ikevamp arthur #ikevamp headcanons #ikemen vampire headcanons

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zablife · 1 year ago

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As Long As I Live (Part 4)

Tommy Shelby & Amelia Holland (OC) x Bonnie Gold

Summary: When things go wrong at Lizzie's party, Tommy proposes a solution Amelia finds difficult to accept.

Author's Note: Requested by the lovely @kpopgirlbtssvt. This will be the final part to the series and the longest at 4K words!

Warnings: drinking, language, mention of assault and blood, mention of pregnancy, minor character death

Masterlist

“How long is a fucking ballet anyway?” Arthur asked, fumbling inside his coat pocket for his flask of whisky. Finn only shrugged in reply, barely watching the performance himself in favor of staring at his pocket watch. He ducked his head to study the time, only to find the minutes passing more slowly than before. He gave a tired exhale of breath as a hand clamped over his shoulder.

“Finn, we need to get Tommy,” Isaiah said out of breath and uncharacteristically rattled by something.

“Thought you were supposed to be with Amelia,” Finn noted. “Tommy’ll have your balls if something happens to her.”

Isaiah’s face turned grim as he confided, “Something’s already happened, mate. She’s probably with Frances by now, but Tommy should come to the garden straight away,” he urged.

“Y-yeah, ok,” Finn stammered as he moved into action, glancing at Arthur who didn't look like he'd be much help in his state of inebriation.

Quickly shuffling between seats, Finn found Tommy and whispered to him. Watching Tommy excuse himself from the front row, Lizzie pressed her fingertips to her temples, willing away a throbbing headache, unaware the night was about to get worse.

As Tommy rounded the corner of the garden he found Bonnie throttling another man, arm pulled back to deliver a punch. “Oi! Get the fuck up!” he yelled, pulling Bonnie off with all his strength and struggling to contain him.

“What’s going on?” he demanded to know, squinting in the dim light to make out the bruised and bleeding figure on the ground. The man rose to a sitting position, holding his ribs and heaving for breath as he searched for a handkerchief to dab at his bloody nose. A sliver of light cut across the garden path illuminating his face and Tommy’s eyebrows raised at the sight of Sir Oswald Mosley.

“One of your thugs attacked me,” Mosley accused, pushing himself up from the ground with great effort.

Tommy looked to Bonnie for an explanation and Bonnie turned away as he stuttered, “He-he had Amelia. If I hadn’t come-” Tommy held up his hand, his mouth suddenly too dry to speak. He understood Bonnie’s meaning immediately as Mosley’s ghastly reputation preceded him. It wasn’t hard to believe, though he did wonder why Isaiah hadn’t kept her away from the party like he asked. It was no time for that, however, as he attempted to handle the matter at hand.

“I want to know what you’re going to do about this, Shelby,” Mosley demanded, stalking toward Tommy angrily. “This animal belongs in jail for attempted murder,” he seethed, pointing at Bonnie.

“Nevertheless, you attacked one of my guests first,” Tommy replied, attempting to restrain the venom seeping into his voice.

Mosley scoffed at Tommy’s comment, taking the handkerchief from his face as he sneered, “One of the whores you employed for the evening?” He waited for Tommy to take the bait, revealing the true nature of the relationship. However, Tommy held firm, swallowing harshly to hold down the bile that threatened to rise in his throat. Seeing no other option, he realized he would have to acquiesce to Mosley’s demands or give that illusion until he could formulate a plan.

“Alright,” Tommy reluctantly agreed. “If you’ll step inside I’ll make the necessary calls and see that you receive proper medical attention,” he said with lips pursed tight, otherwise expressionless to hide the fear of how he might find Amelia. Tommy exchanged one last concerned look with Bonnie before escorting Mosley inside, his mind preoccupied with his daughter’s well-being before he could begin to think of a solution to this catastrophe.

———————————-

The next morning blinders guarding the front entrance of Arrow House could hear the shouting from Tommy's office. It reverberated off the paneled walls and down the corridor. The men exchanged nervous glances as pieces of the conversation drifted out toward them. For the better part of an hour Tommy attempted to persuade Amelia to flee without providing details of his treacherous ties to Sir Oswald Mosley. However, his proposal of having her return to a life of travel with Bonnie Gold was not something she was prepared to entertain.

“How could you do this? Cast me off like some cursed soul?”Amelia yelled. She realized she was being dramatic, but that’s how she felt.

“Amelia, please, I’m trying to see that you’re taken care of and...,” Tommy trailed off, words failing him suddenly. Was he doing what was right? He’d only just gotten her back. Could he relinquish her so easily? He wasn’t so sure of his decision now that he was saying it out loud, but this was the best plan he could think of on short notice.

“You’d never do this to Charlie or Ruby!” she shouted, turning to face him with tears stinging her eyes. At a time when she had finally come to believe her father loved his children equally, this was irrefutable proof he saw them very differently. Although she had been attacked in the garden, she felt she was being blamed for it. Her father's insistence on her protection felt more like banishment so he could continue living a life of respectability amongst the toffs he claimed to despise.

Tommy halted, taking a deep breath as he thought about what he was asking of his eldest daughter. Amelia took his silence as complacency and it infuriated her more. When he finally began to speak she wouldn’t allow more than a few words. He began, “Amelia, I wish you’d consider…” before she interrupted.

“I don’t want to hear about Bonnie Gold again as long as I live!” she said defiantly.

Tommy removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose as he exhaled loudly. She was stubborn and headstrong, qualities he loved about her normally. However, faced with the sickening fingerprint shaped bruises on her neck, he was desperate to get her to safety. “What if Aberama and Polly go with ya?” he pleaded. He clenched his fists to hold back the feelings of helplessness he’d experienced when Izzy disappeared all those years ago, willing this time to be different.

Amelia looked at Tommy with fiery determination wanting to object, but knowing it was useless because her father was also relentless when he wanted something. It was a battle she would surely loose, a humiliating defeat with only her heart at stake. Finally she gave in with a slow nod of agreement.

Tommy’s posture instantly relaxed knowing he’d found a compromise. “Thank you, Amelia. It’s for the best,” he assured her.

“For me or your fucking career?” she bit back.

“That’s not why I’m doing this,” Tommy urged, holding her gaze in hopes she would recognize the sincerity of his words.

"It doesn't change the fact that you're giving up on me. Because that's what you do when things are too difficult for you to handle, isn't it? You abandon people... like you did with mum," she confronted him, voice constricting in her throat.

Tommy felt an uncomfortable weight settle in his chest at her accusation. “I wanted you here, Amelia. It just couldn’t be,” he murmured. He wished to express how much she meant to him, but his words fell away as he noticed the look of disillusionment spreading over her like a disease.

Amelia’s stare remained harsh as she waited for something more. An apology would have been a start, though she knew her father was unaccustomed to issuing them under any circumstances.

"You should pack," Tommy finally told her, in a resigned voice.

Amelia shook her head in disgust and turned on her heel, slamming the door behind her as she went. Passing Lizzie in the hallway, she ran to her room.

As Lizzie entered, she found Tommy slumped forward in his chair, elbows on his knees, contemplating what Amelia had said.

“Tommy, what’s happened?” Lizzie asked, pulling her dressing gown closed against the chill.

Tommy exhaled slowly, reaching for a cigarette. He took his time lighting one for his wife and himself before answering, “I’ve fucked it all up, Lizzie, and now she’ll never forgive me.”

“What did you say?” Lizzie asked hesitantly and Tommy told her plainly what was to come. He explained how Moss would arrange Bonnie’s transport early the next morning with just enough time for his men to intercept at a crossroads. Then Aberama and Polly were to whisk him away deep into the mountains. He held his breath before admitting Amelia would be with them.

“Oh, Tommy, no,” she sighed, abandoning her cigarette in the ashtray and collapsing into a chair. “You promised me she’d be taken care of after everything…” she said, lowering her head into her hands.

“And she will,” Tommy said, coming to stand next to his wife’s side.

Lizzie looked up at him with a shake of her head. “I don’t understand you sometimes. What is this good that you will become?” she demanded to know. “When you turn away your own family. Is this work with bloody fascists so important you’d lose everyone you care about?”

“Lizzie, please, I need you to understand,” he said, reaching for her hand, but she stood suddenly to avoid his touch. Walking to the door without a backward glance, she left him alone with his thoughts and his regrets.

————————

There was something comforting about being in nature again after nearly a year on Tommy's estate. Now that she was back on the road, it was as though she’d never left. The circling of the crows overheard and the welcoming softness of the velvety moss under her feet were all she needed to feel at home again. Despite the desperate ache she felt leaving her younger siblings behind, she soon found routine in her chores and conversations with Polly, who helped her understand the person her father became in order to survive after the war. Amelia listened to the stories out of curiosity, but disregarded the silent plea for forgiveness. That wasn’t something she was prepared to give just yet.

Sometimes she contemplated what her life might have been if she’d disobeyed her father and stayed near Small Heath, but those were only fleeting thoughts. She wouldn’t stay where she wasn’t wanted. It was a thought that crept up on her, chilling her even in the warmth of the campfire. Amelia shivered as she stared into the abyss of the flickering light, too lost in the past to notice Aberama approaching. She startled at the feeling of his large palm on her shoulder when he softly asked, "May I sit with you, child?”

She immediately nodded in agreement, gladly accepting his company as she had changed her opinion of him during their travels. He’d proven himself to be generous with her, ensuring her comfort by providing plenty of fresh meat and repairing the old vardo where she slept. She’d also witnessed his fair and honest dealings when trading and felt ashamed at her earlier accusations.

Taking up a place on a log beside her, Aberama stoked the fire before rubbing his hands together to feel the warmth radiating from the flames. If there was a moment to say what he'd been holding back, now was the time. "You know, I traveled with the Hollands many years ago," he said with a small smile playing on his lips at the memory.

Amelia's head shot up at the mention of her mum’s family, fingers clasping the gem at her throat nervously. "You did?" she asked hesitantly.

"Aye, and I knew your mother," he recalled. "You'd not find anyone better with horses," he mused, eyes drifting upward with the curls of smoke twisting in the night air. Then he added sadly, "She was a rare gem and she would have made a fine wife."

Amelia swallowed a lump in her throat as she asked, “I don’t understand. Were you in love with her, Mr. Gold?”

His head dropped as he huffed out a little laugh, “I think everyone loved Isidora, but we all knew her heart belonged to Tommy Shelby,” he said, reaching for a piece of kindling and his small pocket knife to distract himself with a bit of carving. He was growing nervous at the thought of revealing secrets long buried and looked to his work instead of the girl at his side as he continued. “Amelia. I didn't think it was my place to say anything before, but now perhaps you should know something," he ventured.

However, Amelia soon grew uncomfortable and attempted to push away the topic that caused a deep chasm to open within her chest. "It's alright, I know my father abandoned her when she was pregnant," she said dismissively, rubbing her thumb over the sapphire in silent apology to her mum.

Aberama's hands dropped to his sides as he stopped to look at Amelia with a look of confusion, mixed with pain. "No, child, he loved that woman."

Amelia scoffed, "You must have him mistaken for someone else. He never wanted her...or me," she noted bitterly.

"That's where you're wrong," Aberama corrected. “Your parents were very much in love, but your grandfather kept them apart because of a feud.”

“Dad never mentioned that last part,” Amelia said, knitting her brows.

Aberama considered the piece of wood he held in his hand as he said, “I doubt he knew his father’s deceitfulness caused him to lose Izzy.” He glanced up at Amelia with a mournful look, wishing he weren’t the one to tell her this.

“Your grandfathers were friends. Well, they gambled quite a lot together,” he corrected himself. “Izzy’s father owed money to Tommy's father and in 1914 they began to quarrel," he explained. Amelia leaned forward unsure if she wanted to hear more. Aberama took a deep breath before continuing. "Soon after Izzy fell pregnant and her father came to believe it was some kind of retribution. He was outraged that the Shelbys would collect a debt in such a manner so he sent her away. Said he’d be damned if she married a man with no honor. Of course, your father went to war and by the time he returned, you and your mother were long gone.”

Amelia's eyes were wide with shock and disbelief, wondering if this misunderstanding could be the cause of so much pain. Furrowing her brow she asked the question still lingering in her mind. “But…that doesn't explain why my father never looked for her," she said accusingly.

"He did. For years he asked my family for help, but we never found her,” he said in a voice close to a whisper. Amelia could see the look of regret etched on his face and didn’t ask anything more, choosing to sit in pensive silence. She knew there was little else he could have done to help, time ticking away the years her mother had left before fever claimed her life. She knew from Polly’s stories that in those years Tommy became a hardened criminal and any suspicion the family had about him was cemented in his deeds with the Peaky Blinders.

Amelia’s fingertips lingered over her necklace as she thought of the promise it contained and she realized her father had told the truth when he said he was coming back for his true love after France. She sat back against a log, taking in a deep breath as she closed her eyes and imagined her parents together. It healed her fractured heart to know that they had been happy for a brief time and in a way, their love remained through her.

With the fire crackling between them, Aberama studied Amelia and watched a look of contentment settle over her face. He placed his knife in his pocket with a nod, standing and brushing himself off before leaving the campfire. As she listened to his footsteps, Amelia’s eyes opened and she called out, “thank you.”

Aberama turned back and tipped his head toward her in acknowledgment before joining Polly in their vardo.

———————————

Amelia didn’t spend much time with Bonnie when they first set off into the mountains. He reminded her of the awful night at Arrow House that drove them all away. Sometimes when she looked at him she blamed his jealousy, and the temper Aberama claimed he inherited from his mother, for what happened. However, as time passed, she found it hard to hold a grudge. As her own mood improved she became curious to know Bonnie, though occasions were now rare seeing that he often kept his distance from her.

Sitting by the riverbank, Amelia watched Bonnie cross a log, his feet swift and sure, never faltering, and it reminded her of the day in the boxing ring when he'd shown such promise. Suddenly she found herself thinking of everything he’d given up that night in the garden after she dared to spit in Mosley's face, provoking his animalistic impulses.

Unable to contain the question as it came to her she blurted out, “Do you hate me?”

Bonnie wobbled on the log for the first time, looking over at her in surprise. He'd waited for the moment Amelia might speak to him again. He feared she might never trust him after the beating he gave Mosley. Thoughts echoed in his mind about the brutality she’d witnessed from him, even after she yelled for him to stop, protesting how she could have managed on her own. But the image of Mosley's hand against her throat as he ripped Amelia's dress replayed on a loop nearly every night and he knew he’d do it all again if necessary to keep her from harm.

Without a hint of hesitation, he replied to her question, “Course I don’t hate ya.” He made his way to the end of the log and jumped down, joining her on the soft grass. “What makes you say that?”

“You’ll never get to live your dream now. Don’t you remember the day in the gym when you told me you wanted to be a champion?” Amelia asked sadly, turning her face away from Bonnie and hiding in her shoulder.

“I didn’t say that, dove. You did,” Bonnie reminded her gently, looking out over the river.

“What?” she asked in confusion.

“I said I didn’t want to waste my life and I’m not so long as I’m with you,” he replied.

Amelia peeked out from her hiding place, to glance at Bonnie. He laid back against the grass looking up at the passing clouds as he continued, “The day I met you in the stables, I knew you weren’t like anyone I’d ever met. You've got a wild spirit that makes ya fearless. Hell, sometimes I watch you just to see what you'll do next!" An easy laugh escaped his lips and he rolled over to lean on his elbow looking at Amelia as he turned serious. "If I never went back to boxing again, that’d be alright.”

“You’re lying,” Amelia sniffed, though she felt the truth behind the sentiment in the gentle way he spoke, without rushing his words.

Bonnie's heart caught in his chest as she began to cry. He moved toward her slowly, coming to kneel beside her. “M not. Even if you said you hated me, I’d stay.”

“Why?” she asked. “After all this..” she wondered aloud, wiping a tear away with the back of her hand.

Bonnie shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. “Stubborn, I reckon,” he said with a grin, ducking to catch her gaze.

“That’s it?” she giggled in spite of herself.

“No," he said with a soft shake of his head, hand brushing over the luscious grass as he plucked a daisy from the ground. "I’d like to get to know you better cos there’s something else I think I’d like to ask you one day,” he said, offering her the flower and the whole world all at once.

———————

Eight months later…

Arrow House was quiet with the children at school and Lizzie attending a meeting for one of her charities. Only Cyril was left to keep Tommy company on this cold winter’s day, but he didn’t mind. He was soaking in the last moments of tranquil solitude before the entire family would be reunited at last. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so at ease. With Mosley's assassination, his plans for the party could go forward and Bonnie and Amelia were now safe to return home.

A fortnight ago he sent Johnny Dogs to deliver a handwritten message, asking her home to talk and offering an apology for the way they parted. He finally found the words he’d been unable to speak months ago. Though the letter had unburdened his soul, he hadn't slept until he received word she would see him. He also promised Lizzie not to interfere with Amelia's plans after the visit, allowing her to choose her own path now that she was eighteen.

As luck would have it, she and Bonnie arrived two days before Christmas looking well and much more agreeable than when they left. Tommy wondered what transpired in their time in the mountains, ushering them into his office for a chat. The pair beamed as they requested an audience with both Tommy and Lizzie, smiling from ear to ear.

As drinks were poured and everyone found a seat in Tommy’s large study, Lizzie held her breath, noticing the obvious sparks between the young couple. Amelia was the first to speak, a glow about her as she excitedly announced her engagement to Bonnie Gold.

“And what, might I ask, happened to “not as long as I live?” Tommy asked incredulously from his place beside his wife.

“Shhh, Tommy,” Lizzie hushed him. Whispering in his ear, she reminded him of his promise to concentrate on Amelia’s happiness from now on. He waved her off, saying, “Alright, alright, Lizzie.”

“Of course, you have my blessing,” he said, standing and extending a hand toward Bonnie.

“Thank you, Mr. Shelby, sir,” Bonnie replied with a wide grin. He pumped Tommy’s hand with a bit too much vigor, excitement and adrenaline coursing through him.

Lizzie rose from her seat to offer her congratulations to Bonnie and Amelia faced Tommy. She clutched his letter she’d kept in her pocket since she’d received it. “I’m sorry too, Dad,” she whispered as he held her in a long embrace.

Tommy pulled away to study her dewy eyes asking, “What do you have to be sorry for, eh?”

“I said the worst things before I left. I was hurt, but I didn’t realize you were in pain too,” she managed in a shaky voice, stopping to look deeply into his eyes. “I’m sorry you lost mum, but you won’t lose me again,” she promised.

The breath left Tommy’s lungs as he listened to Amelia’s heartfelt declaration, leaving him speechless and happier than he’d felt all year. As Lizzie looked to them with a tilt of her head, she decided not to pry into their private moment. Instead, she asked the group, “Shall we ask Frances to open a bottle of champagne? We should celebrate properly!”

“We should,” Tommy agreed with a wide grin. “Me daughter’s home and she’s getting married. It’s a good day,” Tommy declared, staring back at Amelia with a look of pride.

Lizzie looped her arm in his and they set out toward the dining room, peppering Bonnie with questions about his adventures, his easy laugh filling the corridor.

Amelia watched them happily as she placed a hand over her necklace, feeling the presence of her mother beside her. She hadn’t experienced this kind of inner peace for a long time. The circumstances of her short life had taught her to be wary of this feeling as it was ever changing and tended to shift beneath her feet whenever she found herself on stable ground. However, when she married Bonnie Gold the following spring she knew it was everlasting. As she stood before him in a flowing white dress and a crown of daisies adorning her thick mane of dark curls, she was comforted by the quiet promise in his voice when he proclaimed, “I will love, honor and cherish you for as long as I live.”

----------

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#Peaky Blinders fanfic #Peaky Blinders imagine #Tommy Shelby fanfic #Tommy Shelby imagine #Bonnie Gold fanfic #Bonnie Gold imagine #Bonnie Gold x OC

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 8 months ago

Text

Three Women to a Market

Trans femme Merlin perhaps? – anon

Read on Ao3

Warnings: gender dysphoria

Pairings: none

Word Count: 4149

Morgana and Gwen have...noticed some strange things about Merlin, which isn't saying much, considering that he's quite a strange man. Still, there are things that seem a little out of the ordinary, even for Merlin. Or, five times Merlin had to hide her true self, and one time she didn't.

Morgana truly doesn’t think much of it when she catches Merlin in her wardrobe, fussing with her dresses.

“I don’t think that one’s quite your color,” she says, hiding a smile when he jumps and turns around so quickly he almost stumbles into the side.

“I was just—um—there was a moth—“

“A moth?” She raises her eyebrows, still grinning, and Merlin doubles down.

“Yes! A moth. Huge, the size of—of—“ he holds his hands up— “it was this big. Eat right through any of these—these dresses, M’Lady, I had to make sure it hadn’t gotten in.”

Morgana narrows her eyes playfully at him before she sighs and turns to go to her vanity. “If it’s that big of a moth, perhaps we should call the knights. Get them to shoo it right out.”

She watches him in the mirror as he fumbles for something to say. “I, uh, I think I go it out.”

“Oh, you did? How wonderful, thank you, Merlin. Whatever would we do without you?”

Arthur’s right, she thinks giddily as Merlin turns back to meekly shut the wardrobe, his ears do turn red when he’s all flustered.

“M’Lady,” he mumbles as he turns to go.

Morgana waits until the door has closed and the footsteps clattered away before she sighs, resting her chin on her hands. She turns back to the wardrobe and takes out the dress Merlin had been ‘examining.’

It’s one of her more colorful ones, the rich green one with the purple trim and the stones fastening in the back. She runs her fingers over it, checking to see that there weren’t any moth holes and for what Merlin was actually doing with it. As she looks, she can’t find anything obviously wrong with it, nor can she find evidence of any less than savory endeavors that she would expect from some other men who snuck into her clothes. Try as she might, though, she can’t imagine Merlin doing anything of the sort. Sure, he was awkward at times, and he could be bumbling in his attempts at talking to women of any sort, but he wasn’t like that.

She hangs the dress back up, frowning as she walks back over to her vanity. She takes a seat and begins to under the intricate hairstyle Gwen had done this morning. No, she thinks to herself, it wasn’t like he was looking at them because they were mine, per se.

Rather, he’d just been looking at the dress.

She glances at the wardrobe in the mirror. As ward of Uther Pendragon, he had spared no expense to see her clothed in whatever fineries were available. They were fine works of art in their own right. She supposes she can’t fault Merlin for appreciating the craftsmanship—so few men ever did. Idly, she finds herself picturing one of her shopping days with Gwen, the two of them going stall to stall, inspecting the various wares, and Merlin behind them, helping to carry things, offering his own slightly bumbling opinions, and smiling bashfully when they took his advice.

Morgana stops. Shakes herself. Gives herself a look in the mirror.

What is she thinking? Shopping day was her day to spend with Gwen and Gwen alone. They’d never allowed so much as a guard to accompany them, and here she was fantasizing about including Merlin?

She must be more tired than she thought. She gives herself another shake and goes back to fixing her hair.

Still, she can’t help but smile to herself, it really wasn’t his color.

***

Gwen has long ago come to the understanding that Merlin is one of the most peculiar people she’s ever met and no, she doesn’t mind even the slightest bit.

From their first meeting, him in the stocks, covered with rotting tomatoes, shaking her hand as though they were meeting under perfectly normal circumstances, to this past week where he offered to help her carry the massive laundry baskets and somehow tangled a sheet around a running thief and caught him with a child’s brooch in his pockets, she can never be quite sure what’s going to happen when the two of them spend time together.

She’s not complaining, though. Merlin is by far one of the better options for companionship.

still, she hesitates before asking him for a favor where the two of them have a moment to breathe in between their duties to the Pendragons.

“I know it’s a strange ask,” Gwen says quietly, tucked away in the side hall, “and I understand if you say no—“

“No, Gwen, I’d…I’d be happy to help.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. I, er, don’t know how much help I’ll be, I’m not—you know, I’m not you—“

“But you’ll be there, and you’ll be another pair of eyes, and that’s all I need.” Gwen reaches out and clasps his hands, smiling widely. “Oh, thank you, thank you, Merlin, I would ask Morgana, but she’s…terribly wealthy.”

Merlin frowns. “What do you mean?”

Gwen sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. “She’d suggest I use some fabric or thread that’s from three kingdoms over and when I say that I can’t afford that, she just offers to get it for me, and I…”

Merlin nods with a slight grimace. “Yes, I had to explain to Arthur that he didn’t need to get new boots just because the toe had been scuffed slightly more than usual.”

Gwen shakes her head, grinning. “Thank you so much, Merlin, I really appreciate it.”

“Of course. I’ll see you—“

“At twilight, yes.”

They meet up near Gwen’s father’s house, Merlin tricking his hands politely behind his back as she leads him off to her friend’s house. She takes a key from inside the pail and unlocks the door, letting Merlin inside to see the rows of fabric spread out along the table.

“This shouldn’t take too long,” she says, tucking the key into her apron, “and I’ve got some ideas already.”

“I’m ready when you are.”

Gwen hadn’t been lying; she has most of these patterns planned out already, she just needs to…say them out loud and make sure they sound just as sensible outside of her head as they did inside. Merlin listens carefully, asking clarifying questions here and there when Gwen uses a bit of technical language he doesn’t understand. But it’s…honestly, it’s like talking to any of the other women she works with on these. Once or twice, she even holds up the fabric to see how it goes with Merlin’s complexion and he nearly glows each time she does.

”I know this is boring,” she says near the end, “but you’ve been really helpful.”

“No, I’m—this is kind of fun,” Merlin admits, scratching the back of his head, “I…I’m glad I could help.”

Gwen pauses, her hands on the next bolt of fabric, She looks at him for a moment. “If…if you’d be willing, I think I’m going to need some more help next month?”

Merlin beams. “I’d love to.”

Strange man, yes, but Gwen adores him.

***

At some point, Camelot will admit to itself that it hosts the tournaments and festivals as often as it does for the sheer enjoyment of it, not because of any old traditions or long-term alliances that must be maintained, or whatever the old steward was on about whenever Morgana asked. It’s an excuse for celebration, and there should be no shame in saying as much.

There’s another one this week; knights and champions have been arriving all morn and the royal retinue of Camelot has been in court to welcome those of noble heritage. It’s not so bad, truth be told, most of the things she must do is allow her hand to be kissed by those who have the courage to approach her, and smile politely at those who do not while having whispered conversations with Gwen as they speak to Uther and Arthur. As far as hours-long court proceedings go, there are far worse ones to be trapped in.

At least until Gwen murmurs that she has to step away and attend to t he rest of her duties.

Morgana nods, because Gwen is right, of course, but she cannot help the slight slump of her shoulders as she watches Gwen curtsy and leave the grand hall. With her conversation partner no more, she finds herself growing bored quickly. She has no interest in recounting ceiling tiles, so she lets her eyes drift over to where Arthur and Merlin are standing.

Arthur greets every knight with a firm handshake and they exchange a few challenges, fighting words, whatever they want to call their puffing themselves up like proud peacocks. Merlin stands there much the same way she is, a polite indifference on his face that only breaks when one of the knights deigns to look at him.

“Are you eager for another bout, then?” Arthur laughs as he shakes the hand of a knight from Cenred’s kingdom. “Or are you still recovering from that fall you had last time we met?”

“You got lucky, young prince,” the knight says with a laugh, “I assure you it will not happen again.”

“Right, I’m sure this time you’ll blame the horse.”

The knight laughs again and glances at Merlin. “Is this your squire? Another man to back up your words?”

“Merlin? Oh, god no, he’s my manservant.” Arthur claps a hand on Merlin’s shoulder. “Not one for the ring.”

“Perhaps you should let him have his fun this time around,” the knight suggests, “it’s every man’s right to feel the rush.”

Something flickers across Merlin’s face so quickly Morgana is half convinced she imagined it.

“Oh, trying to beat my manservant instead of me? Are you that afraid?”

They exchange one or two more jabs before the knight moves on.

After that, well, every time one of the knights or Arthur says something about the tournament being ‘a man’s greatest glory’ or ‘a man’s desire for combat or victory’ or ‘it’s a man’s right to fight for his honor,’ some such masculine nonsense, she sees that flicker across Merlin’s face again. One of them says something about Merlin being a coward and she half expects Arthur to do the same, only for Arthur to put his arm firmly around Merlin’s shoulders and say that the measure of a man is not in battlefield prowess alone, and that Merlin is just as much a man as any of them.

Which would be…oddly sweet for Arthur, and honestly a vast improvement, had Merlin not immediately looked like he was about to be sick.

She’s moving before she realizes it.

“Uther,” she calls, watching the man’s head instantly snap around to look at her, “I find myself growing weary, would it be alright if I…?”

He’s nodding before she even finishes her sentence. “Yes, of course. Please, you’ve done enough for today, there’s only a few of them left.”

She curtsies. “I’m going to go for a walk in the gardens. Merlin, would you accompany me?”

Arthur gives her a strange look, but Merlin has already nodded and made to step away.

“Merlin!”

“It’s alright,” Merlin says to Arthur, leaning in a little, “you know how particular Morgana is about things like this.”

Ah, they must be remembering the guards that were found with their britches stuffed with bread rolls and cakes shoved into their mouths after they tried to ‘escort’ her. She smiles fondly at the memory.

Merlin steps easily to her side, offering her his arm as they depart the hall. With her hand nestled in the crook of his elbow, she can feel the way his shoulders slump as soon as the doors thud shut behind them.

As they make their way outside, the cool breeze blowing through the flowers, Merlin bows his head and mumbles something under his breath.

“Thank you.”

Morgana gives his arm a squeeze. “I should be thanking you for giving me the perfect excuse to get out of there.”

Merlin chuckles and their laughter floats through the garden paths.

***

It seems like every other day in Camelot, something is going wrong, or someone needs to know this obscure bit of information, or some long-long grudge held by a noble that Uther won’t speak about needs to be revealed so that the kingdom doesn’t descend into war.

Regardless of the reason, Gwen has memorized how to get to Gaius’s quarters from nearly everywhere in the castle.

Today is no exception; some visiting noble has caught a terrible cold and seems to believe she is on the verge of death. Despite multiple repeated attempts to placate her, nothing but the promise to fetch the King’s physician would do anything to stop the hysterical cries. So, here Gwen is, going down to Gaius’s chambers late at night to try and get him to come and soothe this poor woman.

When she reaches the corridor, she’s surprised to see the door is partly open. She frowns, touching it lightly, and it swings open to reveal a mostly darkened room. Gaius is nowhere to be found and so she turns to look somewhere else when she catches sight of light coming from Merlin’s room at the very back. With no small amount of concern, she walks carefully into the room and peers up the stairs.

Through the thin crack in the door, she glimpses Merlin holding a massive black blanket. It’s a shaggy and shedding thing with bits of fiber falling off as he moves back and forth. She frowns, creeping a bit closer. What on earth could Merlin be doing with such a thing? The weather hadn’t turned that cold yet, and even if it had, a blanket like that wouldn’t provide any sort of decent insulation on its own. Does Merlin need more blankets? She’s sure if they asked Arthur, maybe he would—

Her line of thinking comes to an abrupt halt when she sees him disappear behind the blanket and reappear with it wrapped around his neck. And his arms. And his chest. And—

Oh, Gwen realizes silently as Merlin shakes out the fabric, it’s a dress.

A baggy, shapeless, shedding and sweltering dress, but a dress nonetheless. Merlin adjusts it once more and looks at the wall—there must be a mirror there. Something in his expression changes, smoothing out, and he takes the skirt in his hands, moving it about. He turns this way and that, looking at his reflection.

In a flash, something cold and shameful crawls over Gwen’s skin.

I’m not supposed to see this.

This is clearly a private moment for Merlin. It means a lot to him. She shouldn’t be here, stealing it. Gaius isn’t here anyway, she’s here to find Gaius, not intrude and spy on Merlin.

As quickly and quietly as she can, she makes her way out and closes the door to Gaius’s rooms. With any luck, someone else has found him already and the noblewoman’s fears have been calmed.

Still, as much as she tries to banish it from her mind, she can’t stop thinking about how happy Merlin looked as he put on the dress.

***

Ripples distort the reflection of the moon across the surface of the lake as a cool breeze blows into the forest. Crickets sing as the horse makes its way carefully through the underbrush, snuffling at bushes and three branches of interest. When it reaches the tree line around the lake, it comes to a stop to allow its rider to dismount and walk towards the water’s edge.

The figure sets a basket down near to a broad, flat rock and lays a folded-up cloak next to it. The moonlight captures a hand reaching for a bottle tucked into the tip of the basket. The horse snuffles and nibbles on some grass as the figure drinks the bottle’s contents and reaches for the folded-up cloak. Clouds cover the moon as the magic begins to take effect.

When the sky clears, an old woman sits on the rock, a small bundle of yarn in her lap. She clumsily picks up the knitting needles, fumbling to hold them correctly in her hands, before she continues to knit the scarf that pools beneath her elbows. The stitches are not the neatest, some are a little tighter than the others, and every so often she drops one and has to go back and fix it. The fibers on her dress catch in her work every so often and the yarn tangles from its sloppily-coiled ball as she tries to draw more out.

And yet there is a contented smile on her face as she knits in the moonlight.

The smile does not leave her face as she lets her mind wander, but it does change. It grows wistful as she imagines herself walking through the market, looking at everything and talking with the merchants. It grows melancholy when she realizes that the moon will begin to fade soon and she won’t be able to come here for a while. It grows bittersweet as she realizes her scarf is nearly finished, and she’ll have to find some new yarn soon.

It grows terribly sad as she thinks about how here, and only here, does she truly feel Ike herself.

Her horse, as if sensing her thoughts, ambles over and noses at her shoulder. She lifts one hand from her knitting to pat its face, smile turning happier as the horse snuffles against her hair. She sighs, promising to herself that she will think happier thoughts now, when she hears a twig behind her snap.

She turns, peering into the darkness. After a moment, the horse calls out and two answering nickers sound from the trees.

”I know you’re there,” she calls, “you may as well come out!”

A pause, during which the breeze sends ripples across the lake, and then two more figures emerge from the darkness of the tree line. One clad in a rich green cloak, the other in more modest blue one. They lower their hoods to look at the old woman, sat on the rick with her knitting in her lap.

‘We’re looking for a friend,” the taller one says, her voice as clear and cool as the moon, “we thought he might have passed this way.”

The old woman shuffles. “Awfully late for a friend to be passing through.”

“Which is why we’re quite eager to find him. We don’t know where he’s gone and we’d like to ensure he’s safe. Have you seen anyone around?”

The old woman turns back to the lake. ‘None have passed by this lake except me and this old one.”

Her horse nickers.

The other figure, who holds the reins of the other two horses, furrows her brow. She looks between the horses and at the old woman’s dress, Something flickers across her expression and she swallows heavily.

“Well, if you do see our friend, could you pass on a message?”

The other figure’s head turns and she hisses: “What are you doing?”

“Trust me,” the second hisses back, before speaking normally again. “If it’s not too much trouble.”

The old woman turns back slightly. “What message would you send?”

“There’s a market that opens up in Camelot tomorrow,” she says, “we were wondering if our friend would like to come with us.”

The old woman pauses. “That is a very nice message to pass to a friend.”

“The market is lovely this time of year,” she continues, “if…if you can come, I think you’d have a wonderful time.”

The moon glimmers across the surface of the water as the old woman takes a breath and lets it out slowly. “…yes. Perhaps I would. It has been…some time since I have been to a market.”

“You should come,” she says, “I would love to see you there.”

The first woman, who had been looking between the two of them, perplexed, seems to turn her trust to her companion and nods. “It would be nice to have someone else to walk about with.”

The old woman is quiet for a moment. “If I see your friend, I will tell him this. And perhaps…perhaps I will see you too?”

“Yes, that would be lovely.”

The old woman nods once more. “You two should go back to your houses. As you have said, it is very late and not good to be out of doors like this.”

The two women exchange another look, before bidding their farewells and riding back off into the darkness of the forest. The old woman remains there for a moment longer, looking at the water, then down at herself.

“A market day,” she muses, her smile returning, “perhaps…perhaps this would be a good idea.”

***

+1.

“Are you sure about this, Gwen?”

“Positive,” Gwen says, eyes scanning the crowd. Next to her, Morgana sighs and folds her arms.

“I still don’t know what you hope to gain by inviting that old woman to the market. And what of Merlin? That was his horse she had with her, and if she had it then—“

“Morgana,” Gwen says, turning and clasping her hands, “please, trust me. Merlin is alright, and the old woman—well, you’ll see when she gets here.”

Morgana narrows her eyes at her for a moment before sighting. “Alright. But if you’re wrong about this—“

“Then you can have all of the sugar pastries they made.”

“Just to be sure you remember,” Morgana smiles, both of them knowing full well she‘s going to insist that Gwen have at least one.

“There!”

Gwen points through the crowd. Sure enough, the old woman shuffles slowly towards them, looking about and pulling the cloak a bit closer around her head. Her black dress catches on the loose cobbles as she goes, her hands knitting together nervously as she moves about. Gwen waves, gesturing her over to the small patch of stillness they’d found for themselves amidst the hustle and bustle.

“Look at her eyes,” Gwen murmurs to Morgana as the old woman nears, “really look at her.”

Morgana opens her mouth to ask what exactly that could mean, but quickly changes to smile when the old woman draws near. “Hello, I’m so glad you could make it.”

The old woman looks about. “I’ve…never been to this market before,” she says nervously, “and I…did not see your friend.”

”That’s alright,” Gwen says, stepping forward and linking her arm through hers, “I’m sure he’ll find his way here eventually.”

Morgana, who had been watching the old woman closely, tilts her head as Gwen looks at her expectantly. The old woman’s eyes flick over her cloak.

“I love the markets,” Gwen says, still looking at Morgana, “they’re such a good place to find new things, aren’t they?”

She motions to the old woman’s dress.

“I’m sure we could find something you might like too, don’t you?”

“Oh, well—I’m not sure I’m meant for all the fineries,” the old woman says with a small laugh, “though they look lovely on you both.”

”Oh, come on, everyone needs a little something now and then.” Gwen says, “isn’t that right, Morgana?”

“Yes, of course.”

“What about some fabric for a new cloak?” Gwen gestures between them. “Something like this, maybe?”

“Oh, no, dearie,” the old woman says hesitantly, “I don’t…think that’s really my color.”

Morgana’s eyes go wide and she looks at the old woman with something almost like wonder. The old woman shuffles and shrinks a little under the scrutiny and she quickly takes off her cloak and drapes it over one of the woman’s shoulders.

“I think it looks wonderful,” she says softly, watching the old woman’s eyes light up, “and I’m sure the moths won’t get at it.”

The old woman holds her breath. Morgana and Gwen move a little closer and she lets out a shuddering breath.

“You…you wouldn’t mind if I…accompanied you?”

“Not in the slightest.”

“It would be our pleasure.”

“You wouldn’t find it…in bad taste?”

Gwen grins. ‘Not even a little. I think you look beautiful.”

“It’s been a while since Gwen and I have had another woman to shop with,” Morgana says, lacing her arm through the woman’s other side, “it would be a pleasure to have you join us as often as you want.”

“Really?”

“Of course!” Morgana tilts her head, considering something, before she leans closer. “And perhaps you could help us pick up a few things for our friend too?”

The old woman’s face splits into a lovely little grin. “I would like that very much.”

“Come on, then,” Gwen says, “the market’s waiting!”

Many a merchant that day would be happy to tell you of the three women who visited their stall, smiling all the way.

#merlin bbc #bbc merlin #merlin #fic #dragonbabbles

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