#except for arthurs trousers those look good

[sachart]

Been suffering from ArthurEames brain rot on a 24/7 basis for what I think is now months

Based on the cover of The Sting (1973) which I also watched and loved and can be seen under the cut

[larluce]

Arthur and Merlin travel back in time without knowing the other is from the future too AU (SERIES 2)

FIRST PART (SERIES 1) >> PREVIOUS PART >> NEXT PART

In "The Nightmare Begins"

In Arthur's chambers.

Merlin: (enters, shyly) Uhm, hi.

Arthur: (stands up from his bed quickly) Hi! you... finished Gaius chores.

Merlin: Yeah.

Silence.

Arthur: (nervous) Uhm... Are you... going to undress me or-

Merlin: Right! Sure, because that's my job. Obviously. That's why I'm here. (stands infront of Arthur, blushing, but doesn't make any other movement)

Arthur: (looks at him, tenderly) Merlin you have done this thousands of times, you don't have to act all shy.

Merlin: (blushes more furiously) I'm not acting shy I'm waiting for you to lift your arms, you idiot!

Arthur: (blushes) Oh... of course (lifts his arms)

Merlin: (starts putting Arthur's shirt off with trembling hands)

Arthur: (feels Merlin's fingers brushing his skin having no so good thoughts)

Merlin: (finishes to put Arthur's shirt off) Th-there. (avoids Arthur's gaze)

Arthur: (keeps looking at him still having no so good thoughts)

Merlin: (dares to look up)

Arthur and Merlin: (get loss in each other's eyes and then look at each other's lips)

Merlin: (snaps out of it, thinking) My magic! I can't lose control of my magic!

Arthur: (snaps out of it, thinking) He said he wanted to go slow. SLOW, Arthur!

Merlin: You-your trousers.

Arthur: (fearing he'll have a boner if Merlin changes his trousers) Uh...I rather put those on myself.

Merlin: (in relief) Oh, thank the gods! (realises his slip up) I mean, less work for me, yay! (goes to the door that conects to his chambers quickly)

Arthur: Merlin.

Merlin: (stops and turns around)

Arthur: (goes to him, holds his hand tenderly, smiling like a fool) Good night.

Merlin: (smiling like a fool too) Good night.

Another silence. Merlin start swinging their hands.

Arthur: Merlin?

Merlin: Yeah?

Arthur: We have to... let go.

Merlin: Yeah, we should do that.

Another silence.

Arthur: (chuckles) You are still not letting go.

Merlin: (chukles too) You neither!

Arthur: (brings Merlin's hand to his lips and kisses it) Good night. (finally lets go of his hand)

Merlin: (off guard, with a very high pitched voice) Good...Good night! (enters his chambers and closes the door quickly)

That is just the first night after confessing their feelings to one another. Merlin screams in a pillow after that and Arthur sleeps hugging a pillow with a smile plastered on his face.

The next day, is pretty much the same, with Merlin and Arthur acting all ackward around the other, but constantly smiling for no reason, together or not. It reaches the point Merlin puts Arthur's clothes on wrong twice and Uther scolds Arthur in a meeting for being too distracted staring at his manservant. Of course, everyone notice this change and new rumors spread, saying that the Prince sudden change of humor was due to Merlin finally accepting to bed him. But for once Merlin can care less about what they say. His so long believed impossible love, loves him back! He is living his dream! There is nothing that could ruin that!

Then the second night comes and Merlin's little bubble of happiness beggins to shatter.

That night, Merlin has one of those strange dreams he's been having since he travel back in time. He can't move and can't see a thing in those, there are no images, but rather sounds and feelings. Sometimes he's warm, sometimes he's cold, sometimes he feels the breeze or water showering him, like rain. There are sounds of animals. Normally birds singing. But mostly there is always a voice talking to him.

"I'm not the best at prune. You'll have to settle. Not that you can complain anyway" Sometimes the voice is happy.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry!" sometimes the voice is sad.

But lately, for some reason, the strange voice has been sounding more like one he knows very well.

The voice sounds like Arthur's.

An the dream Merlin has this night is not the exception.

"I love you" the voice says this time, but instead of sounding joyful and tender like when Arthur actually confessed his love to him, it sounds broken, as if the true of those words were killing him. "I love you and I hate you, so, so much. All the secrets you kept from me, Merlin. I've forgiven them all but one. Of all the moments you could have... Why didn't you say it before? Why didn't you keep it to yourself? Why..."

Merlin wakes up in the middle of the night, with tears rolling down his eyes. That was a cruel blow of reality. A premonition even. The secrets, the fucking secrets! He has been so happy since he and Arthur confessed their love to one another that he forgot Arthur not knowing about his magic means that Arthur still doesn't know all of him. Will Arthur still love him once he knows? Merlin still remembers how Arthur reacted in his other life. Though Arthur eventually came around, the memory of the initial rejection still hurts him in his very core. He doesn't want to experiment it again, not so soon when he's beginning to be happy. He doesn't know what he did or what changed for this Arthur to fall in love with him. And for the same reason, he doesn't want to risk it, he doesn't want to lose him! He knows he must tell Arthur, but... Is it bad that he wants to be a bit selfish?

Suddenly a scream gets him out of his thoughts.

Merlin: (alarmed) Arthur! (runs to Arthur's chambers)

In Arthur's chambers.

Arthur: (looking around, frantic and shouting) Merlin! Merlin! MERLIN!

Merlin: (enters running) I'm here! I'm here! What happened?

Arthur: (pulls Merlin till he's sit on the bed and starts checking him, touching him everywhere, even more frantic)

Merlin: (very worried, though he still blushes) Arthur,wait-What are you-Stop it- ARTHUR!

Arthur: (Stops, his hands holding Merlin's face, still with fear in his eyes)

Merlin: (comforts) It was a nightmare (puts a hand on Arthur's) Just a nightmare.

Arthur: (suddenly breaks down and cries)

Merlin: (holds him, wanting to protect Arthur from whatever was tormenting him. His heart aching with each sob, while he comforts him) It's alright. It wasn't real. It's alright.

Arthur: (pulls Merlin away just enough to see his face) Merlin.

Merlin: Yes?

Arthur: (begs) Don't leave me, please.

Merlin: I won't. Never.

Arthur: (kisses Merlin abruptly)

Merlin: (startles but soon kisses back)

The way Arthur kisses Merlin is not tender this time, not even passionate, but rather driven by full need. Need to feel Merlin, need to make sure Merlin is there and still with him. Soon Merlin is also lying on the bed and Arthur is on top of him kissing him more deeply. Merlin moans against Arthur's lips, his hands on Arthur's naked back and Merlin thinks he'll go isane. Why did he even deny himself this?

Then he hears movement, opens his eyes and notices some things floating around the room and he remembers why.

Merlin: (puts a hand between their chests and pushes to separate their kiss and says, breathless) Arthur.

The things fall and the sound makes Arthur get out of whatever trance he was.

Merlin: (thinking some explanation for the things falling) Uh-

Arthur: (Doesn't even acknowledge the things falling and gets off Merlin quickly, very ashamed of himself) Oh, Gods! I'm so sorry. I wasn't-I just-

Merlin doesn't have the chance to say anything cause a guard suddenly opens the door.

Guard: Sire, the- (notices Merlin is on the bed) Uh, forgive me, I didn't mean to interrupt-

Merlin: (too quickly) No! It's perfectly fine.

Arthur: (too quickly) Yeah, we just finished.

Guard: (thinking) I didn't need to know that...

Arthur: What is it that you came?

Guard: Is the lady Morgana. There was a fire in her chambers.

Arthur and Merlin: WHAT?! (Stand up quickly and run outside)

Time skip. In the morning, after they finished investigating Morgana's chambers. Arthur and Uther walking through the corridor.

Arthur: It's not possible. There are too many guards. I'm telling you, it was a thunder.

Uther: No. Someone started the fire with magic. I'm sure of it. Arrest all those we have under suspicion.

Arthur: I can't arrest people without solid proof-

Uther: You can and you will. My ward has been attacked. I won't give them the chance to attack again. (leaves)

Arthur: (sighs)

Meanwhile. In Gaius' Tower. Merlin spying on Gaius and Morgana from outside.

Morgana: (cover in a blanket, still pretty shaken) It happened so quickly. It was terrifying.

Gaius: (puts a hand on her shoulder) It's alright. You're safe now.

Morgana: ...

Gaius: Is there something you like to tell me, my child?

Morgana: ...No.

Merlin: (thinking, confused) How weird. She confided Gaius she believed she caused the fire before, why isn't she doing it now? (enters) I brought the herbs.

Morgana: (tenses)

Gaius: Just what I needed. (to Morgana) I'll have a remedy for your nerves in no time, my child.

Morgona: Thank you. (stands up quickly) I'll go (passes Merlin fast and leaves)

Merlin: (very serious) It was magic. Uther can be unreasonable when its comes to magic sometimes, but he's not dumb. And neither is Morgana.

Gaius: Merlin-

Merlin: Her dreams are visions, you've known that for a while and that's an hability only users of magic could have. She did this and you know it.

Gaius: She's better not knowing.

Merlin: NO! Not knowing it's what's tearing her apart! She needs to be told that she'll be okay, that her power is not something she should be afraid of. She needs... (trails off)

Gaius: What, Merlin?

Merlin: She needs guidance. Someone that can help her control her gift. Like me.

Gaius: No, Merlin. You can't!

Merlin: I'm not asking you.

Gaius: Are you out of your mind!

Merlin: You can't drug her and make her believe she's going insane for the rest of her life!

Gaius: Your magic must stay secret!

Merlin: Secrets be damned! You don't keep secrets from the people you love! It's always a lie, after lie, and then one day everything will blow in our faces and there's nothing we'll be able to do to repair the damage!

Gaius: ...

Gaius: This is not just about Morgana, is it?

Merlin: (sighs) My magic keeps acting on its own when Arthur and I kiss.

Gaius: Your magic is linked to your emotions, my boy. It's normal. Once the initial excitement has cooled off-

Merlin: It's not just that! I can't keep my magic a secret from Arthur anymore! It's not fair to him. (sinks in a chair) I shouldn't have started anything romantic with him without telling him in the first place! (sinks his face on his hands) He'll hate me now.

Gaius: What do you mean "now"? (pauses and then opens his eyes wide in realisation) Merlin, are you planning to tell Arthur? I thought you were going to wait until he is king!

Merlin: (gets his hands of his face) That was before we became... lovers (blushes, but then sighs, kind of defeated) I can't have our relationship be based on lies.

Gaius: Your magic has nothing to do with your relationship.

Merlin: It has everything to do with it! I don't just have magic, I am magic and he deserves to know who he's giving his heart to.

Gaius: (sighs)

Merlin: This is the part when you tell I'm crazy and I shouldn't even think about doing this.

Gaius: Actually, I think you should tell Arthur too.

Merlin: WHAT?! 😨

Gaius: Not for the same reasons you are saying though. I'll feel more at easy knowing you have Arthur's full protection.

Merlin: Let me get this straight. You think telling Morgana, who actually has magic, is insane, but telling the Prince of Camelot himself is more than fine?

Gaius: He almost started a rebellion against his own father for you. That's more than enought proof for me that he wouldn't let any harm come to you. In the worst case scenario, he'll send you away for your own protection, but I vehemently believe even that is pretty unlikely.

Merlin: It's not banishment I fear or that he wouldn't forgive me. I know he would eventually. (His eyes water) But what if he doesn't want to be with me after I tell him? What if he doesn't love me anymore? (Tears run down his eyes) I don't think I can't go back to being his friend. Not now that I know how it feels to be loved by him.

Gaius: Oh, Merlin. (Holds him)

Merlin: (crying) I love him so much, I don't want to lose him. (Keeps crying)

Arthur: (enters) Gaius, I need-Merlin! 😨(Runs to him, concerned) What happened?!

Merlin: (snifs and wipe his tears) It's nothing.

Arthur: It's not nothing. You are crying! (makes a move to put a hand on his shoulder)

Merlin: (stands up quickly, evading him) I'm fine.

Arthur: Merlin-

Merlin: I have chores to do. (leaves)

Arthur: Merlin! (makes a move to go after him)

Gaius: (stops him) Better leave him alone. He'll come to you when he's ready to talk.

Arthur: (even more worried) Is... is this about last night?

Gaius: (confused) Last night?

Arthur: Gaius, I swear to you I didn't mean to cross his boundaries. I don't know what came over me when we kissed-

Gaius: Sire, as much as I appreciate the trust you have on me to tell me some things, I rather not be informed in whatever is that you do with my ward in private.

Arthur: But-

Gaius: Shh!

Arthur: I-

Gaius: No! Do not involve me! I will not be an intermediary between you and Merlin. You two solve your things on your own.

Arthur: (sighs in defeat) Alright.

Gaius: Now. What is that brought you here, your Highness?

Arthur: My father insists the fire in Morgana's chambers was started by sorcery, so... I need names.

Gaius: (his face changes) Oh... I see... (sighs) I'll write down all the suspects I can think of for you, my lord.

Arthur: Thank you.

Gaius: (starts writing down names in a parchment)

Arthur: (looks angry as he does it)

Gaius: (notices and decides to test him) You don't seem particulary happy about this decision, Sire.

Arthur: I'm not. But I can't disobbey the King.

Gaius: But you think the king is wrong?

Arthur: (thinks for a moment before answering) Even if his suspicion were true, arresting everyone suspected of doing sorcery is unjust. Is like arresting everyone that has a sword just because someone was run through with one.

Gaius: (nods and finishes to write) From what I recall, everyone in here had contact with druids or sorcereres at some point, Sire. Geoffrey should have the record of more and their whereabouts, especially the names of the relatives of executed sorcerers in the last years.

Arthur: Thank you again, Gaius, for your service.

Gaius: (gives Arthur the parchment) Once you finish collecting all the names you need, be careful where you put the list, Sire. It would be a shame if someone got a hold of it... and gave the suspects a head start.

Arthur: (catches the message and smiles) I understand. (takes the parchment) I'll keep that in mind. (leaves)

Gaius: (thinking, smiling) They will be fine.

Time skip. In a corridor. Arthur aproaches Merlin.

Arthur: Merlin!

Merlin: (thinking) Shit! (says) Do you need something, my lord?

Arthur: No, don't call me "my lord". Not now. You've been avoinding me all day.

Merlin: (hangs his head) I'm sorry.

Arthur: (sighs) No, it's me who should apologize. Merlin, last night I... (trails off as he notices Merlin is carring some flowers)

Merlin: (nervous, thinking maybe Arthur did notice the things floating around) Right... Arthur, I need to tell you some-

Arthur: Why are you carring those flowers?

Merlin: (looks the flowers) Oh, they are for Morgana. You know, to cheer her up after the fire-

Arthur: (angry) You are bringing flowers for Morgana?

Merlin: (confused) Yes? Is that...bad?

Arthur: (sarcastic) No, it's fine. Totally fine. You gifting a girl flowers. Why would that be bad?

Merlin: It's not like that. Why are you... wait... (smiles in disbelief) You are jealous?

Arthur: (still angry, but blushes) No.

Merlin: You are!

Arthur: Stop smiling! I'm not jealous, but if I were I'll have every right to! You avoided me all day and when I finally find you you are giving a token of your affections to someone else!

Merlin: (now angry too) It's not a "token of my affections". I was just being nice. I told you, I wanted to cheer her up after the fire. Because that's what friends do.

Arthur: Really? Because we've been friends for more than a year and you've never given me any flowers.

Merlin: There was never a fire in your chambers!

Arthur: Right. 🙄

Merlin: (offended) What are you saying? That you think I'm cheating on you?

Arthur: What? No!

Merlin: I can't believe you! We've only been together for 2 days and a half and you already think that low of me? (looks hurt)

Arthur: No! I would never-

Leon: (enters) Sire, the King wants to know if... Uhm... Did I interrumpt something?

Merlin: (turns to Leon with a polite smile) No at all, Sir Leon, you just missed the part when giving flowers to a friend means I'm a whore. (turns around and walks away at a furious pace)

Arthur: I never said that. Merlin!

Merlin: (already gone)

Leon: I'm assuming your apology didn't go well, Sire.

Arthur: Shut up.

Time skip. At night. In Morgana's chambers. Morgana sitting on the bed while Gwen finishes to arranged the room.

Gwen: Oh, I almost forgot. (points the vase with the flowers) Merlin brought this for you.

Morgana: (very surprised) He... did?

Gwen: Why so surprised?

Mogana: (forces a smile) Oh, I just thought he wouldn't dare. With how jealous Arthur can be.

Gwen: They did get into a fight for that. (giggles) Their first couple fight, can you believe it?

Morgana: Uhm.

Gwen: (worried, thinking) She's not even asking for the details. She must be really upset. (sits on the bed next to her and says) I can stay if that would make you feel better.

Morgana: You've done so much already.

Gwen: I don't mind.

Morgana: I thought you were going on a date with Lancelot tonight.

Gwen: I canceled.

Morgana: Gwen-

Gwen: My duty to you is first. (puts a hand on hers) You are not only my Lady. You are my friend.

Morgana: (smiles, her eyes watering with emotion) Thank you. (looks the candles in the room) Can you... take the candles out?

Gwen: Of course. (takes the candles out of the room and then comes back)

Morgana: (lies on the bed leaving a space for Gwen)

Gwen: (lies on the bed next to Morgana)

Morgana: (cuddles with her) I'm scared.

Gwen: A thunder can't strike in the same place twice. You're safe.

Morgana: Not of the fire. My nightmares are getting worse day by day. Telling me horrible things about everything and everyone. And it's getting to the point I... (trail off)

Gwen: What?

Morgana: (tears roll down her eyes) I don't know who to trust anymore.

Time skip. The next day. In Arthur's chambers.

Arthur: (about to enter)

Merlin: (opens the door just when he's about to enter) Oh... hi.

Arthur: Hi...(notices Merlin is carring his chainmail) You are just cleaning that? I told you to do it yesterday.

Merlin: Sorry, I was too busy collecting flowers.

Arthur: (sighs) Merlin, I'm sorry, alright? I never meant to-

Merlin: No, really. Look. (gets out of the door frame so Arthur enters and points the vases full of flowers in the room) I... picked them myself. (blushes)

Arthur: (enters, looking around in awe. The flowers are everywhere!)

Merlin: (puts the chainmail aside) I still think you were jealous obnoxious prat (crosses his arms, angry, but soon softens his expression, blushing) But it's true I haven't had any romantic gesture with you. And you had so many with me... I didn't want to be left behind.

Arthur: (walks to one of the vases and touches the flowers delicately)

Merlin: I know this can't compare to a horse, but-

Arthur: I love it. (turns to Merlin with a big emotional smile) It's perfect.

Merlin: Really? 🥺

Arthur: (laughs softly and holds Merlin's hands tenderly) Really. The most beautiful gift I ever been given.

Merlin: 😍

Arthur: It's also the cheesiest gift I ever been given.

Merlin: You are one to talk! Sir "I got you a purple lily in a pot so it doesn't die".

Arthur: (laughs but then his face changes to worry) Wait, you said you picked them ALL yourself?! 😨 That's too many plants! Are you okay? (holds Merlin by his upper arms)

Merlin: (blushes more) Eh...Yeah, collecting herbs for Gaius it's barely a sting now. This was nothing.

Arthur: (his eyebrows still frowing in concern)

Merlin: (moved by his worry, takes Arthur's hands off his arms gently, but doesn't let go of them) I really am fine.

Arthur: (smiles, more calm) Alright.

Silence.

Arthur: (smiling like a fool) We are... still holding hands.

Merlin: (smiling like a fool too) I know.

Arthur: Do you... want to let go?

Merlin: No.

Arthur: Me neither. But I need this one (lets go of one of Merlin's hands) to give you this (gets a parchment out of his pocket)

Merlin: (takes it) What's this?

Arthur: It's a list of everyone suspected of consorting with sorcerers, witches or druids. Names and last known dwelling places. It's all there.

Merlin: (his face falls) Oh... right. Why are you giving it to me?

Arthur: I don't know what my father will do to suspects once I arrest them, so... I want you to give them a warning before I gather the men to go after them.

Merlin: (in utter shock) You... want me... to help them escape?

Arthur: I know it's a great risk and you probably won't be able to reach them all. Putting you in danger it's the last thing I want. (puts his free hand between Merlin's shoulder an neck) But you are also the only person I trust with this task.

Merlin: (a pang of pain in his heart) Trust?

Arthur: And with my life, to be honest. There's no one I trust more than you.

Merlin: (lets go of him and steps back, the parchment falling to the floor)

Arthur: (frowns) What is it?

Merlin: You shouldn't.

Arthur: What?

Merlin: I haven't been honest with you.

Arthur: Merlin-

Merlin: No! You've been so good to me. It's not fair I haven't been corresponding you in the same way. (his eyes water) Since we started this, us, you've given all of yourself, while I've just been giving you pieces. I should have let you in from the start, I know I should, but I couldn't. I was so scared, I didn't want you to hate me. But thats's also selfish. You deserve more, Arthur, you deserve-

Arthur: Are you leaving me?! 😨

Merlin: What? No!

Arthur: (gives a sigh of relief and brings a hand to his chest) Don't scare me like that!

Merlin: I would never leave you, Arthur... But you may want to leave me after I tell you this. (takes a breath) Arthur-

Arthur: I know.

Merlin: (very surprised) You do?

Arthur: And I understand completely. This is your very first relationship, it's normal that you are not ready for doing some things.

Merlin: ... What? 😧

Arthur: (takes his hands, lovinly) Merlin, I would never force you to do anything you don't want to do.

Merlin: Arthur, that's not-

Arthur: What happened that night, I was affected by my nightmare, but that's no excuse. I acted out of line and for that I sincerely apologize. I'm more than okay with going slow. Truly.

Merlin: (thinking, teary eyes, moved) Why do you have to be this sweet now? You are making this even more difficult! (sighs, thinking) Well, This will have to do... (says) Arthur, I need you to look into my eyes closely and to not stop looking at them, no matter how scared you are.

Arthur: (confused) Why would I be scared?

Merlin: Just do it. Please.

Arthur: (does it)

Merlin: (lets go of Arthur's hands and puts his hands together) Gewyrcan lif. (his eyes turn gold and he opens his hands, a butterfly flying out of them)

Arthur: (between in shock and mesmerized, because he has never watched Merlin doing magic so closely before and it's so beautiful he thinks he'll fall in love all over again)

Merlin: (evades his gaze as soon as he finishes, too ashame, too scared, preparing himself for Arthur's rejection and yet not wanting to recieve it) I… I have magic (tears roll down his eyes) I'm a sorcerer. But I only use my magic for you, Arthur. Only for you. Please, don't hate me-

Arthur: (aproches) Merlin-

Merlin: (steps back, shaking) I was born with it, I didn't have a choice, I swear! I couldn't tell you, but you deserved to know. That's the only thing I kept from you. Everything else is truth! My feelings are truth! I'm still me, I'm still the same person you knew. Please, believe me-

Arthur: (reaches him and lifts his chin so Merlin looks at him in the eye)

Merlin: (flinches, but doesn't move away)

Arthur: You told me to not stop looking at your eyes.

Merlin: (confused, tears still rolling down his eyes and a vulnerable expression on his face) What?

Arthur: I don't hate you. I could never hate you. The only think I hate right now is that you seem so scared... of me. (his eyes watering) You flinched from my touch for the first time and that should never be. You should never feel unsafe around me.

Merlin: I...

Arthur: (smiles) Thank you for trusting me with this. It mustn't have been easy for you. And you have nothing to fear. I won't tell anybody, your secret it's safe with me.

Merlin: (dumbfounded) You... forgive me?

Arthur: (gives a teary laugh) There's nothing to forgive! We are in a kingdom where magic is outlawed. I can't hardly blame you for keeping it secret. (thinking) And yet I did before. And I'm so sorry it took me so long to understand. I'm so sorry, Merlin.

Merlin: (daring to hope) And... you... still love me?

Arthur: (cups his face with one hand lovinly) I love you. All of you. You having magic doesn't change a thing.

Merlin: (breaks down in a crying mess because this was more than he ever bargained for and he's so relieved and so happy, and also so scared none of this is true, because it's too good to be true)

Arthur: (hugs him, protective. His heart breaking for Merlin and furious with the world that made him live in fear for so long) It's alright. You're safe with me. I won't let anything happen to you. You are safe.

Merlin: (still not believing it) You love me!

Arthur: I love you. Everything is alright.

Merlin: (pulls away a little and kisses him suddenly)

Arthur: (startles, but soon kisses back)

Merlin: (turns the kiss more desperate, his hands curling in Arthur's shirt)

Arthur: (separates the kiss, with labor breaths, but still holding Merlin close) Wait, you're vulnerable now. I don't want to take advantage of you.

Merlin: I want to. I really want to. I was just holding back because of my magic.

Arthur: (confused) What are you-

Merlin: (begs) Kiss me. Show me that you love me. Please.

Arthur: (kisses Merlin passionately)

And Merlin knows everything it's alright because Arthur still loves him. Arthur accepts him wholy. Everything is alright.

...

Do you remember that the very first part of this AU said that Arthur confessed he always knew about Merlin's magic and that he is from the future shortly after Merlin confessed he is a sorcerer? Well, let's say it's not going to be that shortly after anymore for drama and plot purposes 😅

I hope you liked this magic revealed. 😊

I'm not done with "The Nightmare Begins". There's still Morgana. What do you think her dreams where about? What does she knows? Find out in the next part of "Merlin: IT WAS ABOUT FUCKING TIME"

Tagging @aceauthorcatqueen , @fallenxjas , @smileytrinity ,@lucifertookmyshoe , @an-entity-i-think , @thecornerofbelu , @griffonskies , @odinjm , @cinnabon-sweetroll-tiramisu , @thelady-mary , @bennedict , @nightninjaboy , @st8-of-grace , @starrieisdelusional , @error-username-not-available , @dogberryrowan , @jamieweasley13 , @tansyuduri , @tercais , @robynnemrys , @evadne01 , @serasvictoria02 , @hairdryerducks , @curiously-lazy , @harriettesthings , @andrealux16 , @wacko-weirdo , @greatdonutenemy , @yougottobekittenme , @anxiousosaurus , @kinkforwings , @someweirdassnamee , @impracticalantlers , @miyriu , @hobipabo , @whitemaskcd , @bogslob , @braziiis , @rubinaitoart

[redemn]

so  he  ducks  his  head  ,      glancing  about  one  way  and  the  other  ,      before  leaning  closely  in  toward  the  younger  boy  .        ❝        you  wanna  know  somethin'  ?      'course  it  makes  me  feel  bad  .      no  man  in  his  right  mind  ain't  hurt  sometimes  by  other  people's  words  .        ❞        but  no  one  would  hear  him  admit  it  outright  .      no  one  except  dutch  and  hosea    …    and  now  ,      john  .      he  clears  his  throat  ,      leaning  back  and  continue  with  his  cleanup  .      he's  said  enough  .        ❝        but  there  ain't  never  a  reason  to  linger  on  it  for  long  .      especially  comin'  from  someone  who  don't  know  you  .        ❞

[ ... ] ❝        it's  always  the  people  don't  know  us  who  call  us  names  and  tell  us  we  ain't  nothin'  to  this  land  .      but  you    mark  my  words  ,      we  mean  more  t'this  land  than  those  people  who  sit  in  their  homes  day  in  and  day  out  and  don't  look  'round  toward  nature  or  care  what  world's  doin'  ,      or  what's  goin'  on  outside  their  little  bubble  .        ❞        his  tone  ,      steeled  ,      takes  on  a  prideful  ,      almost  instructional  tone  .      in  much  the  way  dutch  and  hosea  have  tutored  him  in  his  past  ,      to  read  and  write  and  count  out  a  ledger  ,      so  too  does  he  carry  the  spirit  with  him  and  respond  in  kind  with  his  own  sort  of  faith  ,      his  own  conviction  ,      loyalty  carried  like  droplets  through  a  stream  of  words  inattentively  spoken  on  instinct  ,      rather  than  conscious  thought  .        ❝        but  us  ?      we're  different  .      we  ain't  like  the  rest'a  them  ,      and  they  all  know  it  .      they  don't  know  what  to  do  with  all  that  .        ❞

folding  his  bloodied  kerchief  ,      arthur  replaces  the  cloth  in  the  pocket  of  his  trousers  .        ❝        we  ain't  good  men  ,      john  ,      you  get  that  through  your  head  .      i  been  damned  since  i  was  your  age  .      they  ain't  wrong  'bout  that  .      but  we  will  be  honorable  men  ,      in  everything  we  do  .        ❞        in  a  gentle  ,      deliberately  slow  reach  ,      he  takes  john's  shoulder  and  squeezes  it  once  in  an  attempt  at  comfort  .        ❝        you  remember  that  .        ❞

the breeze beckons like a confessional, youngest lost in mindless ramblings. once again, he yields to the tender touch of brotherhood. despite the highs ; eldest is clearly adept in pulling the string so he won't touch the ceiling. words sink in --- and linger within cerebral --- as he continues to learn in the vicious cycle of adolescence. and, as much as it is like pulling teeth t'say ... arthur is right. a fierce iron-heart is caged within it's growing bone, locked and keyed to serve and protect those that count. but ... the idea of others knowing him. they don't know him like john does, and perhaps it's a blessing that they never will.

❛ well, 'yer good t'me. ❜ figuring speak is abrupt, too soft, he turns with a crinkled nose, crooked grin prevalent. ❛ sumtimes. ❜

❛ it just don't make sense t'me, i guess ... ❜ tone, pitiful, as it changes like the wind. somberness, longing -- things he wishes the world could understand. about him, about the rest. cruelty lingers in every crevice as the world continues to flood around him. again, restlessness ensues as blades of grass fall victim to boney, own-blood soaked digits ; plucking from the fruitful yield of green. there is still beauty amidst the chaos. and, too habitual to shy from touch, it's only a quick flinch before he allows eldest to resume mending. ❛ i mean, these guys hardly know us. an' here they are--- sayin' we're bein' ... ' inconspicuous '. ❜ always for tall words, the young boy is. the search of knowledge will haunt him to his grave.

bottom lip jut as he allows the space to cohesively think, to even be heard. chin atop ripped trousers that sport scuffed knee below, line of thought resumes as piece of grass is smoothed along thumb and index.

❛ how do you do it, arthur? how do you just ... ❜ the welling within chest returns, an uncertain weight that bubbles from deep within, and trails up to the throat. sinuses sting, and soon do the eyes. only then, softly, ❛ don't it make y'feel bad, sometimes? ❜

[sehnsuchts-trunken]

Well, now I’m obviously obliged to return here to ask for your headcanons for merlin the series 😂

absolutely I will gladly share these, I've been sitting on some of them for months :)

- Gwaine never stops picking bar fights. Never. The only difference is that now he can go to much greater lengths because no matter what, there's six others who will absolutely help him, at least the second it actually looks like he could get hurt. And god, does Arthur scold him. And god, does he not care. Like he will just. Smile and move on to the next brawl.

- Gwen is a seamstress, I think? And despite not sitting on the throne just yet for me, once she does become queen, she may abandon her old servant-y duties, but she certainly keeps sewing. Sewing for Arthur. And I am not in any way a good judge of clothing but. Those shirts and coats are the best looking in all of Camelot. Arthur may not brag about a lot but hell does he brag about Gwen's skills, and he has every right to. Even the Knights look quite jealous.

- By the way, Arthur really doesn't brag a lot. He grew up like a prince, like a royal, at court, in a huge ass castle, with servants and everything, so of course sometimes he'll be pretentious and arrogant and he won't notice at all, but he never mindfully does so, he never mindfully wants to make anyone feel bad about what they have or has to feel good about what he has himself. But. This doesn't count for one thing and one thing only and that is Gwen. Like this man will talk about her for two weeks straight if you let him, he would never talk about anything or anyone else ever if he could. And he will so definitely brag about her. He also totally tells their story wrong, if anyone asks. And then she just grins and goes like "actually sweetie if I remember right I was the one who kissed you first"

- Morgana is kind of a fashion nerd and has always been. She just loves to combine different things and wear dresses and pantsuits in unconventional ways and colours and I absolutely despise the way they completely mess up this wonderful character trait by making her wear only dresses. Like, you cannot convince me that she didn’t wear leather trousers at some point, or Arthur’s loose white shirts paired with a beautifully intricate corset. 

- Leon has canonically died like seven times in this series and I don't understand, so I will literally just say that wow does he have good luck and he uses it when playing games/doing bets with the other knights. Also he braids his hair into these little Viking braids sometimes. He has a great, wholesome sense of humour too. I love him, he's precious.

- In the episode I'm currently watching, the guys find out that there's a traitor in their ranks (actually Leon's the one who finds out, he's great, did I say that already), and Arthur begins to like, go through all the Knights and people and tries to find out which of them betrayed him. And like, despite Leon I think he goes through all of them? Maybe not Gwaine, but like, maybe, idk. Anyway the others learn about this at some point and they all make sure to get back at Arthur by pretending like they're betraying him and then literally just leading him to the basement where they all met up and created a "Fuck Arthur Pendragon" club (some of them took it a bit too literally.)

- The running gag with Merlin being at a tavern is now known and being used by everyone except for Arthur, because he's always been the one it's being used on and doesn't understand why everyone laughs (well, maybe, that it's funny that Merlin's a drunkard. but in a way he's more worried) But everyone else just knows this inside joke and the second someone dares to tell it, everyone is laughing their asses off and will not calm down for an hour.

- Who's missing? I'm missing someone. Who am I missing???

- Elyan! Yeah I got nothing on him lol.

so seems like this is it-

[drunk-poets-society]

ok so

this young fella is No. 85 Squadron’s Hurricane pilot Richard Lee. he was awarded the DFC and DSO for his service, just a couple months before he was shot down over the English Channel on 18/8/1940, at age 23, sadly never to be seen again.

details under the cut -

Richard Hugh Anthony Lee was born in London in 1917 (the exact date or month is unknown). Growing up, he went to Charterhouse School.

On September 1935 he joined RAF Cranwell as a Flight Cadet, and graduated in July 1937. He was posted to Debden on June 1, 1938 to join no.85 Squadron at its reformation. He flew Gloster Gladiator biplanes to begin with, before no.85 was re-equipped with Hawker Hurricane Mk1s.

No.85 sqn. Was posted in France to protect cross-channel convoys. On November 21, 1939, while on patrol over Boulogne, Flight Lieutenant ‘Dickie’ Lee scored the squadron’s first victory when he successfully attacked a Heinkel 111 which crashed into the channel and burst into flames. This also scored the Squadron’s first accolade as he was awarded a DFC on March 8, 1940 “for outstanding brilliance and efficiency”

Not much happened over the winter. That was to change, however, when on May 10, 1940, the sound of Anti Aircraft guns and Luftwaffe planes filled the air. No. 85 squadron immediately jumped into action, and within a few minutes, one section of “A” flight, and one section of “B” flight were up in the air. Lee was leading B flight with Flying Officer Derek Allen and Pilot Officer Patrick Woods-Scawen flying as his numbers 2 and 3 respectively. the section attacked a Henschel 126, and managed to severely damage the aircraft, leaving two of its crew wounded.

Later that morning, Lee was flying Hurricane L1779 into combat, leading his section again. They engaged a Junkers-88 at about 15,000 feet. His combat report reads: “after being sighted E/A dived to a very low height. i could only overhaul from astern very slowly. From 500 yards to 700 yards the enemy rear gunner fired continuously. I fired short bursts and finished ammunition closing to 200 yards. No apparent results except black smoke from one engine. My own aircraft shot badly.”

Later that evening Lee shared in the destruction of a Ju-86 with his section. Lee was the first to open fire and set the enemy’s starboard engine on fire. When they landed, ground crew found that he had fired 50 rounds from each of his eight Browning machine guns during the engagement.

on 11/5/1940, the squadron was back in the thick of it. however, this time after a busy morning patrol, Allen and Woods-Scawen returned without their section leader. Richard Lee was missing. He’d been flying Hurricane N2388, code marked ‘VY-R’ over Maastricht when he engaged a Dornier 17P at approximately 1300 hours. His aircraft had been hit by Anti Aircraft fire and he bailed out of his aircraft slightly wounded. Parachuting down, he landed in a field, where he spotted a local man passing by. He asked the man which direction he should travel to get to the Belgian tanks that were nearby. He took off in the direction, only to find out that they were, in fact, German. Lucky for him, his uniform was concealed underneath a smock or overcoat he had acquired. He was believed to be a peasant and was locked into a barn with some other refugees. Thinking quick, he climbed up to a window and noticed a ladder perched beneath it, and promptly climbed out, walked several miles, and hitched a ride with some Belgians before returning to his unit the very next day. The squadron’s diarist reported that “11/5/40. Eight E/A were shot down today. Flight Lieutenant R.H.A Lee failed to return from the offensive patrol covering the advance of the BEF over the Tongres-Maastricht Section – he was reported last seen on a Dornier’s tail at about 2,000 ft.”

On May 22, No. 85 squadron started to return to Debden to re-equip and reform, and Lee was transferred to No. 56 Squadron. The next day the squadron engaged enemy aircraft over St. Omer while patrolling Manston to Dunkirk. he expended all his ammunition in the dogfight that ensued between the Hurricanes and the 109s, before his starboard wing was badly hit. He broke off and returned to Manston unharmed, and aircraft deemed repairable.

On May 27, he flew another offensive patrol from Manston with the Squadron, flying Hurricane P3311. On this occasion he was shot down by Messerschmitt 109s during an attack on Henschel 111s. he ditched his aircraft in the sea and was fished out of the water and taken ashore an hour later.

On May 31, Lee was awarded the DSO. The London Gazette published the following: “Flight Lieutenant Richard Hugh Anthony Lee, D.F.C. (33208) this officer has displayed great ability as a leader and intense desire to engage the enemy. On one occasion he continued to attack an enemy aircraft after his companion had been shot down, and his own machine hit in many places. His section shot down a Dornier 215 in flames one evening in May, and another in the course of engagement the next day. In his last engagement, he was seen at 200 feet at the tail of a Junkers 89, being subjected to intense fire from the enemy occupied territory. This officer escaped from behind the German lines after being arrested and upheld the highest traditions of the Service.”

In June, he returned to No. 85 squadron, under Squadron Leader Peter Townsend. His experience was called upon to help bring the new recruits upto scratch before the squadron was again ready for operational flying.

On June 26, Richard Lee and his close friend Gerald Lewis flew to an investiture where Lee received his DSO and DFC for his service.

Lee’s reputation as a daring and aggressive fighter pilot was quickly spreading around the air force. Peter Townsend’s good friend Flight Lieutenant John Simpson wrote a letter to his intelligence officer, after hearing about the exploits of Richard Lee.

Simpson, who also coincidentally often flew with Patrick Woods-Scawen’s younger brother Tony, wrote “I hear that Dickie Lee has done wonders. You see how these boys, who were always looked upon as being the naughty ones, are doing so well. They needed a war to convince the old gentlemen at Whitehall. Do you remember that Dickie was almost given his bowler hat for low flying? The same low flying has apparently stood him in good stead.” (apparently he had flown through an open barn, but i have no way of confirming or denying that)

In Hector Bolitho’s book Combat Report published in 1943, he wrote of an afternoon spent with Lee, Townsend and Simpson. “Peter Townsend and Dickie Lee had been posted to an aerodrome a few miles from the house… in the early summer, John and I went out to find them… we found Peter and Dickie and took them back to the house. Dickie followed the car on a hellish motor bicycle.

It was a pleasant enough afternoon and we lay on the lawn, the four of us, with a bowl of ice, a bottle of gin, some tonic water and four glasses, and talked the world away. All three, looked older. Both Dickie and Peter had been shot down and a certain solemnity seemed to have touched them. Dickie had changed more than others.

We used to call him Dopey in the old days because he always fell asleep if the conversation took a serious turn. He was already a hero and in most newspapers there had been photographs of him receiving his decorations from the King. The long hell in France had left creases at the corners of his sleepy eyes. But he would have none of our attempts at war talk. He said that he had a date with a blonde in Saffron Walden and that he could not stay very long.

Dickie’s taste in blondes was not always reassuring to his friends, but he was obviously more concerned with his date than with our efforts to make him talk about how he has won the DFC and DSO on his tunic. I remember when he stood to go I noticed a hole in the leg of his trousers where a bullet had gone through without touching his skin.

I suppose that Peter and John and I were a bit pensive, being the older ones, so Dickie yawned and said ‘Well, I must get cracking’ he made one gesture to sentiment before he went. On the day that was declared he left his favourite pictures with me… before his squadron flew off to France.

They were photographs of friends, of aircraft, and one of a spaniel. He asked me for them, so I brought them down from the attic and he flew off to his blonde with them, piled before him on the screeching, violent motor bicycle.”

August 18, 1940 “the Hardest Day” of course, was when Dickie was lost. Flying as Blue 1 in Hurricane P2923 ‘VY-R’ during this patrol, he was last seen by Squadron Leader Townsend and Flying Officer Arthur Gowers ten miles north-east of Foulness Point chasing Bf 109s out across the Channel.

In Townsend’s book Duel of Eagles he wrote the following of Lee’s last action: “Come back, Dicky,’ I called but he was drawing away. Again and again I called, but he kept on. It was useless to chase Huns out to sea; they would be back again the next day. Something had gotten into Dicky and there was no stopping him. We were both low on fuel and I was out of ammunition. There was only one thing to do: turn back”

Like several others, he was gone too soon. Neither his aircraft nor his body were ever recovered. and aside from these mentions, and a few documents, and acknowledgement on the Runnymede Memorial, Panel 6, there isn’t much about him out there. there’s really not much one can do about that either, other than remember, and keep them alive in our thoughts; those who never returned, whose names faded into obscurity.

Source

[firstknightss]

GWAINCELOT ESSAY THREE???

[commentary voice] ah yes and this gwaincelot essay.... which turned into a fic was inspired by @nextstopparis and @little-ligi

GWAINE TEACHING LANCELOT HOW TO READ. and thats how they actually CONFESS.

imagine gwaine seeing lancelot trip up reading leon’s plan for the day, seeing him trying to understand it. and gwaines, hes a little in love. Hes. Hes a little hit with feelings for this Noble (tm) knight. So OF COURSE he CANT EMOTION and he tries to show his affection for lancelot without yknow being in ‘loVE’

he comes over with his swishy hair and bantery tone like “oooOhHh LANCELOT! Lancey! Hey! Hello! Can’t read leon’s goddamn awful handwriting huh?”

And Lancelots embarrassed and flushes red and gwaine thinks hes Fucked Up (and he really doesn’t want to fuck this up, this is the first time he’s actually felt emotions this deep for someone) and tries to fix it panickedly, like the Anxiety Clown He Is.

He keeps on saying sorry and apologising, and Lancelot, the EVER CALM KNIGHT GUY, goes “it’s fine, it’s okay. It’s nothing to do with you...” and then he hesitates. He HESITATES. “....it’s just that...” and then he BITES HIS LIP and gwaine thinks he might just faint there and then, “...i cant read.”

and now it hits him, gwaine, gwaine, who thought literacy was something trash and something he didn’t really need, realises how important it is. and so, yknow because hes kind of wrapped in those Emotions (tm), he pulls lancelot’s sleeve after practice, when they’re alone in the changing room. (and if lancelot wasn’t so tired and miserable, he would have easily seen gwaine BLUSH)

And he, shyly asks if lancelot wouldnt mind being tutored by him.

Now Lancelot is OVERJOYED, and he’s borderline CRYING because lancelot, poor old village boy lancelot who’d been kicked out of the knights of camelot, and had to become a MERCENARY and fight for masters who didn’t care for him, has NEVER HAD someone literally CARE about him so much. (Apart from Merlin. He loves merlin <3)

so now imagine lancelot waking up an hour early the next morning, and showing up into gwaine’s room. He knows gwaine literally doesnt sleep with a lock, so he just barges in, and starts shaking gwaine.

Now GWAINE sleeps like a Log (had so much shit going on irl, time to sleep it away) and when he opens his bleary eyes, seeing lancelot in one of his stupid v neck shirts over him, hes like “....h...helo??”

and lancelot’s all like. “We- werent YOU gonna give me reading lessons.” And gwaine nods, yawning (and in that moment lancelot thinks gwaine looks unimaginably cute, so cute that he wants to literally ruffle gwaine’s hair and run his hands through how silky and brown it is.)

THEN gwaine pulls on the dont care-ish mask, and makes his arms into a pillow under his head, as he leans against the wall behind his bed, in some kind of somewhat???flirty??? manner??? [i dont...i dont know what hes trying to do. On the other hand! Not does Lancelot :) ]

Lancelot, does not realise this is gwaine’s poor attempt at flirting - since he’s seen gwaine ACTUALLY flirting and this is like. Nothing. And its also poorly executed. Which is NOTHING like gwaine.

So he pulls gwaine’s arm, and half hauls him out of bed.

As gwaine’s head crashes into lancelot’s stomach, he can smell lancelot’s clothes. They smell of flowers, and cotton and everything so natural and gwaine, who literally smells of wine, and wood and Tavern. (And aftershave, or the 500AD equivalent)

[see here, see im trying to bring themes of dionysis okay. OkayyyyyyyyY. yours truly likes looking at greek mythology. And both these two complete dionysis]

Gwaine, in his sleepy stupor, nestles his head on Lancelot’s hip, who gives a sigh and stands there. One hand clutching gwaine’s, leaving the other free.....

....to rake through his soft, flowy brown hair. And twirl his fingers through its waves, and Gwaine cuddles in further.

And since Lancelot left the door open, Leon (the other bitch who wakes up at 4am to do idk nothing) sees them two...like that, illuminated by the SUNLIGHT behind them, and smiles a little.

And then he trips over the stairs, the moment is lost.

Gwaine and Lancelot pull away at the same time, and gwaine’s face turns back to “ha ha im a Jerk (tm)” and if he wasnt too busy trying to hide how flustered he was, he’d see Lancelot looking at him the way he used to look at GWEN.

They both blink and look at each other, understandingly, neither of them to speak of this again.

And then Gwaine drags himself out of bed, and Lancelot raises his eyebrows as he watches him (totally not checking him out) haul out a book from his cupboard.

Gwaine’s too sleepy for this, he keeps yawning and rubbing his eyes (looking like a cat, Lancelot notes) and Lancelot takes a deep breath, his eyes understanding.

“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

“Lancelot, I love..” he bites his tongue, cursing his half asleep mind “..doing this, and love hanging out with you...I just cant stay up this early.”

Reading lessons, from now on, are at 1:30am-whenever Gwaine and Lancelot stop rambling about Odysseus and Circe and Telemachus

[i dont know any other ancient books apart from like. Ancient greek/Roman ones. So i guess. Its not historically accurate,,,,BUUIT this is a fanfic for a pair who had like no scenes together SO i think i can take some ✨creative liberties✨]

Lancelot has heard of the journey of Aneas from travelling bards, singing songs in his native old english. Gwaine’s eyes are quick at latin, and he learnt the flaws of Romulus and Remus in his pure latin. Gwaine’s a good teacher, and lancelot is a quick study, and it’s not long before they’re arguing over which Goddess caused the most harm in the Illiad.

Gwaine’s never met someone who he could reveal that he loved reading to, he loved doing.

Lancelot’s never met someone who he could tell he couldn’t read, and ask if they could teach him, love learning.

They make it work.

The other knights notice, of course they notice. Percival notices how Lancelot stumbles into the Gwaine’s room at night, bright eyed. Elyan notices Lancelot and Gwaine’s voices from Gwaine’s room opposite him; sometimes slow, Gwaine speaking slowly and Lancelot following; sometimes heated and passionate.

(They’re arguing. They’re arguing about how to pronounce Minerva)

Merlin finds the two, in the early hours of the morning - when the birds are figuring what song they sing today - on Gwaine’s bed.

Gwaine leaned against the bedframe, his trousered legs splayed over the sheets. Loosely braided, long brown hair fell over his closed eyelids, his mouth in a small smile.

And Merlin follows his arm draped over Lancelot, snuggled beside him, his head on his broad shoulder, every breath of wind pushing against curly black hair, making it almost /bounce/. His eyes are covered by the other man’s hair, and he looks...content. More content than Merlin has ever seen him.

He slips out as quietly as he came in, and smirks, hes gotta tell arthur they finally got their shit together oh GOD

Its no surprise to anyone but them, when Arthur pulls Lancelot out of training, and into his chambers.

“I’m glad you’ve found someone Lancelot.” He starts, his face geniune, his voice giving away hints of relief. (He thought he was never going to see his knight smile again after all the ordeals that had happened to him)

“Oh...” Lancelot’s heart sinks, “...how did you find out, Sire?”

Arthur blinks, taking in the change of mood in Lancelot, maybe it wasn’t anything important, maybe they were trying to keep it casual, hell they didnt want the king knowing.

“I- uh, I just noticed...” Goddamnit Merlin, and Goddamn his need to tell him everything he saw. (Merlin had advised him not to do this, as they sat on his bed after a long night. This was really his fault.)

Lancelot pales, and he places his hands down on the table beside him, palms slapping stone as he did so.

“Well, I guess I should tell you the whole truth then,” his voice is quiet, and Arthur steps closer, “Sire I am not of Noble birth, and was born in a village - as you know.”

Arthur nods, his arms crossed, but his Kingly Bravado fell away at the sight of his knight, and one of his closest friends, being this vulnerable.

“Yes I know, but what does this ha-“

“And we children in the village we-“ he falters, “-we were never taught to read.”

“Yes, no I understand, I-“ he pauses, Lancelot’s words hitting him a bit too late, this was about literacy?

This, this whole conversation was about literacy?

Not being gay?

Merlin was going to have a field day

“Sire?”

“I understand Lancelot, and is this why you feel a little out of place with the other knights?” He carries it on, with a smile, he has a few questions to ask merlin.

“Yes, and that’s why I asked Gwaine to tutor me from time to time, although, the sessions carry through late into the night, which may have been affecting my performance at practice. I’ll have you know that this is a temporary th-“

“It’s fine Lancelot,” Arthur places a hand on his shoulder, “You are still exceptional at practice,”

“Thank you Sire,” Lancelot twinkles.

✨

“Theyre, theyre not together?” Merlin cant stop laughing, tears streaming down his face, “theyre not TOGETHER?? oh my God arthur what did you DO”

They sit together on Arthur’s bed, drinking wine from stemless cups together, with Arthur recounting the events of the day; red faced.

“I mean, it was your idea Merlin.”

“I just saw them, and I assumed...I didnt...I didnt think youd ASK them.”

“What do you think I’d do then?? Let them be on their merry way.”

“Yes!”

✨

“Do you like me?” Gwaine asks, unexpectedly, one night, the moon vibrant against the loud sea.

“You’re...tolerable...” Lancelot says, a smile tugging at his lips, as the silver moonlight falls against his hair, a halo around him.

✨

The knights give them the look every morning, as the two of them stumbled out of the same room, more frequently than ever.

Sometimes Lancelot would throw on Gwaine’s shirt, when he’d crumpled his own beyond repair. Sometimes Gwaine would put some of Lancelot’s hair oil on, when his hair was frizzy.

They gave each other knowing looks when Gwaine and Lancelot started whispering and giggling like a bunch of schoolgirls.

✨

And then Stupid gwaine had to go get fucking stabbed, and their delicate dance was like trying to waltz through a minefield.

Lancelot clutches onto Gwaine’s arm as Merlin feels his forehead with shaking hands.

“He’s burning up.”

“Infection...?” Lancelot sounds broken, and nods, fumbling with his pack to find some bandages.

It was just a simple quest; a save the day, get the girl, do various harmless shenanigans type of quest.

He’d half expected Gwaine to get the girl, and he cant help but give out a half choked laugh. Gwaine had no idea what hit him when she turned out to be the evil one all along.

He tries to forget that Gwaine showed no interest in her, he tries to forget that Gwaine’s been less frequent at the Tavern, he tries to forget that he hasn’t seen Gwaine with anyone since months now.

Gwaine, his beautiful Gwaine was lying on his lap, hot red blood rushing from his side, staining his polished chainmail with dark, sticky blood.

He’s been out for nearly an hour now, and Lancelot remembers carrying him, through the entire forest, forgetting his sword and his helmet and just grabbing Gwaine and getting the shit out of there.

Gwaine’s lack of self preservation was really rubbing off on Lancelot nowadays.

Merlin watches as Lancelot holds back tears, his own eyes stinging. Gwaine can’t die like this, he can’t die like this....

“hælan beorn adl”

Merlin’s eyes flashed gold, and Lancelot could feel warmth coming back into the fingers he was grabbing.

He was coming back.

And then the weight of everything hits him.

He was in Fucking Love.

✨

“Hey.” Gwaine’s voice is rough from disuse, but Lancelot nearly sobs when he hears the voice.

“Don’t fucking do that to me again, amor meus.” He puts his head down on Gwaine’s chest; finding the hammering of his heart calming.

He shimmies onto Merlin’s bed, which Gwaine had been lying in for the past few days.

“Did you mean, ami meus?” Gwaine sounds tired, too tired to be awake.

“Huh? Did i say something else?” Lancelot decides to play dumb, a sparkle in his eyes,

“I thought I heard amor meus,” Gwaine pushes his nose into Lancelot’s hair, taking in the wonderful smell of coconut.

“Well then, at least your hearing’s okay, amor meus.”

Gwaine gulped, and was sure Lancelot could hear his loud swallow.

“Lancelot, I hope this isnt a big joke with me teachin you latin and all,” Gwaine’s voice is a little wobbly from the slee deprivation and the magic and the pain numbers, “because I’ll have you know that I really love you, and I cant go on like this any longer,”

“Its okay Gwaine, I learnt latin from the man I love, of course it’s not a joke.”

“The man you love? Who’s tha-“

Realisation hits him like a brick.

Oh.

Oh.

“Me?” His voice cracks, and Lancelot looks up, a smirk on his face.

“Of course dumbass.”

“Like I’m meant to know that,” Gwaine tries to keep his dont care-ish aura, but they both know he’s too exhausted to keep that up.

“mmm?”

Gwaine kisses him on the nose, and he wraps himself around him.

And thats how Merlin finds them later that day, eyes blinking as he stood there.

✨

“I’m glad you’ve found someone, Lancelot.” Arthur coughs.

“Is that what that whole talk was about???”

“Answer the question.” His words sound harsh, but he’s barely hiding a smile.

“I’m glad too, I’m Glad I found Gwaine too.” Lancelot blushes, turning to gwaine.

“Why are you asking anyway, Princess?”

“Oh just, making sure this time.”

[vegetalass]

Hey there! Your RDR2 headcanons are fantastic, and I’m itching for more! I’m not sure if you’re still active, but if you are... Could I possibly request some Arthur, Javier, Charles, and/or Sean headcanons about a tall female/gender neutral reader who is insecure about their height? SFW or NSFW welcome. 💕

hi!!!🥰 Thank you for enjoying my work so much!!! 

I’m not really all that active, but I’m around! I guess you could call it an indefinite hiatus (?), maybe, but I’m not too sure! I mostly just pick and choose the asks I feel like doing if I’m in the mood to write.💘

that being said.... in the words of our lord and savior megan thee stallion... PUT THEM LEGS ON HIS HEAD NOW HE LOVE TALL WOMEN AHHH (she’s talking about all the rdr2 boys)

find me at @ihatebnha... 

enjoy! 

-

Arthur 

This man is fucking stupid 

For all the insecurities he has regarding himself, he definitely isn’t going to be aware about ANY of yours

And he definitely isn’t going to notice anything is upsetting you unless you specifically tell him 

And even then, he’s not really going to understand why you’re insecure in the first place

This is mostly because he doesn’t think you have flaws. If he doesn’t see anything wrong with you, then clearly you don’t either and whatever it is that’s bothering you doesn’t matter and therefore isn’t important or will go away on it’s own 

Honestly, in Arthur’s mind, he has bigger fish to fry than worry about whether his girl is short or tall

If he likes you and did enough to get you to like him back (especially since he has a lot of baggage), then that’s all that matters

If you bring it up with him, however, it’s big dumbass hours

“Arthur, I’m just so… tall! Doesn’t that bother you?”

“Tall is strong. Strong is good.” 

“But… I don’t look like a lady.. Like Tilly and Mary-Beth and Karen and all them other girls… Doesn’t that bother you?” 

“Why would I want you to look like them…?” 

It takes awhile, but if you keep it up it probably does get to the point where he realizes you’re genuinely insecure, especially if he’s been brushing it off for a while and your mood starts being affected

It’s then that he’ll pull you aside and just explain to you that he couldn’t give a damn what you look like, since you’re wayyyyyyy out of his league anyway

Probably does that thing where he talks to you for like an hour about how the lifestyle you live is dangerous and love is fleeting so all that matters is that you have each other and blah blah blah 

And you have to be like …. “Arthur…. hush…” 

Honestly, even when he’s aware that you’re insecure about your height, not much is gonna change EXCEPT he’ll probably try to pick you up wayyyyy more often 

Which would be weird except for the fact he can totally do it no sweat 

(because I mean… look at this dude….) 

You scream and tell him to put you down and he’s like “What? Think I can’t pick up my woman? I’m a lil offended…” 

And then he’ll just wrap your legs around his torso and you have to hold on for dear life because he’s not gonna put you down

Overall, Arthur is too much of an outlaw with abandonment issues to worry about looks. Frankly… he sees woman he likes… he gets boner… It’s pretty simple. 

Charles 

Charles is… both more and less helpful than Arthur 

He definitely takes the same approach of like… “Tall = Strong, which is GOOD,” but he’s so casual about it that it’s honestly not going to be that reassuring 

You try to bring it up once or twice and he just… doesn’t really get that it’s an insecurity and not something that can be solved with a simple, logical answer

He kinda just assumes that since you’re together, you already know he likes how you look 

(Because he really, truly does)

So he wonders why he would need to say anything to you about it other than something like, “you look fine,” if you brought it up

This is okay for the most part… but on the days when you’re more bummed out about it than usual, it can be really annoying

Plus, getting him into the zone where he can talk about feelings is pretty hard

Not that he’s not willing to, I just think he doesn’t automatically know when you’re trying to have a heart to heart vs. when you’re just chatting 

Especially since you don’t have that much alone time at camp and are often focused on missions otherwise

So you would really have to pull him away from whatever he was doing to fully show him that you were serious

He’s great though, because once he truly gets what you mean, he’s going to put in the most effort to mitigate those feelings 

Not only does he fully express in words how much he adores you (height and all) after you explain, he’s gonna try to put more effort into his actions, as well, so you can feel it without him having to reassure you verbally

Holding you from behind, rubbing your thighs, leaning on you more, kissing your ankles etc.

And God forbid anybody make a comment about your height, he’s going to snap their spine

Honestly, to Charles, long as you’re looking healthy and strong and responding to him normally he thinks you look GOOD 

Javier 

He likes tall women. That’s it. That’s the tweet. 

In a relationship, Javier is honestly just happy as long as you’re happy, so the moment you show signs of being insecure, he’s on that shit trying to fix it

Pretty in-tune and open with emotions in general, so it’s never been hard for you to talk about these kinds of things together (much less anything else)

Though he’s another guy who just assumes that you already knew he liked how you looked, he’s definitely not one to shy away from telling you OR showing you if there’s ever moments when you’re feeling extra down about it

(But that’s not often since he isn’t really shy about loving on you) 

Especially if he gets to kiss you and make you smile or laugh while doing it

Whispers in your ear about how much he loves you, hands are always NOT where they should be, creeping up your skirt and trousers, limbs all tangled up when you lay on each other at the campfire, etc. 

Probably the easiest one to talk to about the whole thing, as he’s always willing to listen to you and immediately understands what you mean when you bring it up 

Since I’m sure he sometimes feels like the shortest guy in the group

That being said, since you’re not afraid to be honest about how you feel, you balance each other out very well

And Javier loves knowing he’s the only one who gets to take you down (SPICY!!!) 

If another guy makes any comments about you, expect him to get pretty raunchy about how much he likes you

(For Ex: You wish you were me, bitch!!!) 

It’s both flattering and embarrassing at the same time

Sean 

The fact that you even gave Sean the time of day is enough to make his pants tight, so he is definitely not thinking about your height

There is probably nothing wrong with you that he can actually point out, and probably genuinely thinks that you have no flaws

He honestly doesn’t even figure that there’s anything you could actually insecure about, mostly because he loves all of you, always has, and probably always will 

So to learn you’re unconfident about your height is kinda shocking to him

Especially since he also isn’t shy about loving on you 24/7… 

So for it not to be enough to quell your worries… that must mean it’s pretty serious 

(He’s like: “ARE YA KIDDIN?”) 

Definitely does his best to vocally and physically reassure you all the time (even if you don’t need it)

(He’s not as smooth as Javier is, though)

All his suggestive comments get a thousand times worse, and he’s always at your side or trailing right behind you

Also always wants you in his lap. No matter what. Be in his lap. Aggressively pats his lap until you sit on him. 

Definitely randomly points out you guys are together to whoever is even remotely looking ing your direction

“You see that fine thing? Yea, that one… She’s all mine…” klsdjfalksjd

It probably gets to the point where he starts using embarrassing nicknames or getting in the way of being sneaky and you have to tell him to knock it off

(Unless you’re, idk, into it *wink wonk*) 

But he really just means well  

He just really doesn’t want you to feel insecure about yourself, and would do anything to change that, even if it’s a little overbearing

[rosemaidenvixen]

In the Fullness of Time

Chapter 4: Years Past

Ao3

Content warning: Classist language, Violation of bodily autonomy without knowledge or consent

Merlin swore as the carriage went over yet another bump.

“A thousand pardons Lord Merlin sir!” Galahad called from outside “Road’s a bit rough out this ways,”

Rough, that was a gentle way to put it. Was this an actual road or were they driving over a legion of troll remains? This was no way for a Master Wizard to travel, but where he was going his preferred forms of magical transportation would not be...well received “How much longer Galahad?”

Without warning the carriage jerked to a stop, Merlin letting out a whole string of curses as he was nearly thrown from his seat.

“We’ve arrived! Mind your boots, ground’s a touch muddy,”

“...Thank you for the warning,” Merlin grumbled, getting to his feet and opening the carriage door.

If anything Galahad had understated the conditions. The road, if one applied the term quite loosely, was nothing more than a coarse dirt track that went from the larger, more maintained road to their destination. Thoroughly churned by countless wagons and boots until it was a quagmire of mud and rubish, reaching ankle deep in places.

Merlin let out a sigh, resigned himself to the inevitable filth, and stepped down, grimacing as his boots sank into the muck. The small company of knights around him dismounted with a clatter of metal and leather. Galahad himself hopped off the front of the carriage and jogged up to face Merlin “What are your orders sir?”

“That won’t be necessary,” Merlin said while gracefully stepping around the knight “You and your men may stand down, I shall deal with this myself,”

Moving with surprising speed, Galahad ran forward and once again blocked his path “With all due respect, I cannot do that, the king’s orders are that all unregistered magic users be investigated by a company of trained knights, no exceptions,”

Merlin barely suppressed a grumble, it was rather impressive how Arthur managed to be both brilliant and a fool “Very well then, set up a perimeter around this…” he glanced warily at the buildings ahead of them “village...don’t want any surprises coming in or getting out,”

“Right on then,” Galahad turned towards the knights “You heard the man, spread out and surround the village! No surprises in or out,”

The knights all rushed to obey, Galahad joining them, as Merlin walked up the road straight into the thicket of buildings. He could have easily handled this by himself, no need for busybodies gumming up the works. But Arthur insisted on the knights’ presence to...what was it? Reassure the masses…

Merlin spared a glance at the people of the hamlet as he passed through. 

Men and women in clothes just as patchy and ragged as the buildings around them lined either side of his path. As soon as they noticed his presence they parted like all of the sea, ducking inside buildings and hurrying down alley ways. Some peeked at him out of cracked windows and doors while speaking to each other in hushed whispers. A precious few stood their ground, glaring openly at Merlin as he passed by, nearly drawing a laugh out of the Wizard. 

Ignorant rabble the lot of them. 

Fools who spent their lives with noses buried so deep in the dirt they couldn’t be bothered to look up at the stars.

There had been a time in his youth that he longed to teach people like these. To use his powers to help those that lacked the tools to help themselves. To bring enlightenment to those that clung stubbornly to the dark.

Had he ever really been that young?

Merlin shook his head to dispel the daydreams. 

More likely than not this so-called sorcerer was someone that happened to swear right as a pitcher of milk was falling to the floor. Soon enough Merlin could clear this all up and be on his way. As it was all he wanted was to get back to Camelot and have his boots cleaned to a polish. 

A space opened up in front of him as he reached the heart of the village, Merlin paused and glanced around. Most decent sized settlements surrounding Camelot had a central building of sorts, usually used for storage and official gatherings. Even smaller communities had squares that served much of the same purpose.

This town, if it was large enough to truly be considered that, had neither of those things. The only sort of central feature present was a modest stone well, which a large crowd was gathered around.

“--which is why we need to burn him!” a woman’s voice screeched “We cannot tolerate this evil blight in our midst!”

“And anger the demons who made him? Are you mad!? No, we have to sink him in the bog, give him back to his own,” 

“I’m not touching him! You know what Fae do to those who mess with them and theirs, best to wait for the king’s men to come, let them deal with--”

“We’re wasting time! Just give me a barrel and a cartful of peat and I’ll do the job myself!”

Merlin cleared his throat softly, just loud enough to make the gathered crowd turn in his direction. Upon sighting him nearly every one of them gasped and staggered back in alarm. Only three held their ground, two men and a woman, the one who so fiercely advocated for burning if he remembered right.

He allowed his face to mold into the placating smile he so often used when discussing magic with those who hadn’t the slightest idea how it worked “Good morrow to you folk, I am Merlin Ambrosius, here on behalf of the king. Now I understand you’ve been having trouble with a sorcerer?”

One of the men, the one in charge if his slightly cleaner coat and trousers were anything to go by, stepped forward and stammered out a response “Y-- yes, we have him locked up for now, but there’s no telling what kind of curses he’s brewing,”

Even with all of Merlin’s considerable patience, he was barely able to keep from rolling his eyes. These simpletons wouldn’t know a curse if he conjured one up right in front of them.

Well time to go clear this up and let the village goat herd or whoever it was out of wherever they’d penned him up “I promise you have nothing to fear, a squadron of the king’s best knights are here with me and they will allow no harm to befall you. Now take me to this sorcerer of yours and I will deal with him myself,”

The crowd visibly relaxed at his words; or more precisely, upon learning of the knights’ presence, the village headman slowly nodding at him “Follow me then,”

Merlin allowed himself to be lead to the far side of the village, with the rest of the group trailing behind. No doubt curious about his powers as much as they feared and despised them. The headman stopped at the edge of the buildings, pointing into the trees beyond “He’s in there,”

A cave barred with a wooden door was built into a hill a short distance away from the village proper. A space no doubt ordinarily used for storage now converted to a makeshift prison cell.

The headman twisted his cap in his hands “So...how long will it take you to--”

“That will be enough,” Merlin waved him off “I’ll take care of everything from here on out,”

The headman swallowed hard but still stepped aside to let Merlin pass, striding towards the cave. None of the villagers followed him, of course not that he expected any of them to.

Reaching the cave door, he opened it a crack and poked his head in. It was too dark to see the contents of the cave, the light of the open door doing little to penetrate the gloom.

“Hello?” Merlin called into the dark cave “Anyone in here?”

No reply from within the cave was forthcoming. Merlin remained standing in the doorframe in silence for a few moments. 

His patience was rewarded when a soft sniffle broke through the silence.

Merlin blinked in surprise. Well that was...unexpected.

He opened the door all the way, banishing some, but not all of the shadows. Allowing for his eyes to adjust just enough to see a small figure huddled in the far corner of the cave.

A child, dark haired, a boy by the looks of it, sat curled up on the floor of the cave. And by the look of how dirty and disheveled he was, he had been in here for some time. Clear tracks ran down his cheeks from where tears had cut through the dust. The child wasn’t crying at the moment, though whether that was due to exhaustion or dehydration remained to be seen.

Merlin strode over, slowly as not to startle him, and got down on one knee a few feet in front of the boy “Hello there,”

The child said nothing but followed him with his eyes, clearly trying to gauge how much of a threat the Wizard was.

Merlin gave his best, non-threatening, smile “Let’s lighten things up a bit, shall we?” he held out his palm, and with the barest breath of effort a green witchlight flared to life there before floating up to the cave ceiling, filling the small space with emerald light. 

A parlor trick by his standards, but it served as a good example to those not versed in the subtleties of Wizardry.

The child lifted his head to stare at the witchlight as it ascended to the roof of the cave, mouth open and eyes large with wonder.

“Now tell me young one…”

Aware he was being addressed, the child tore his gaze away from the ceiling to stare back at the Wizard, wariness coming off of him in palatable waves.

“Can you do anything like that?”

Merlin expected the child to shake his head, or at the most mumble a soft no. So it came as no small shock when the child raised his own tiny palm and stared at it with furrowed intensity.

His astonishment was even greater when cerulean sparks flared to life in the boy’s hand.

They flickered for a few seconds before going out, the boy letting out a small puff of exhaustion as they did.

This was no charlatan or victim of coincidence, this boy had actual power. And for someone of his age to even attempt to mimic a spell after only seeing it performed in front of him once…

This boy had potential.

And Merlin would be damned if he let such potential waste away in a dank cave.

Merlin got down on both knees “What is your name young one?”

“Hi-- Hisirdoux,”

“Well then Hisirdoux, what do you say we go outside and discuss things further?”

“I...I can’t…”

“Of course you can, others may not like what you can do but if I say you can leave no one will stop you,”

“But…” Hisirdoux raised one of his arms ever so slightly, a soft clink of metal accompanying the action.

A sound no louder than a cricket’s chirp, deafening to Merlin’s ears.

“Boy, show me your hands,”

Hisirdoux complied, stretching both arms out in front of him, allowing Merlin to see crude iron shackles wrapped around his wrists, sloppily fastened to heavy chains bolted into the cave wall.

Merlin had been millenia old even before Camelot was founded. He’d watched empires rise and crumble. And he’d seen every manner of cruelty that humans could inflict on each other. By now there was no atrocity that was capable of shocking him.

This however, gave him pause.

“Hold still Hisirdoux, let me get those off you,”

Merlin moved closer, raising a hand over Hisirdoux’s wrists, gently probing into the shackles with his magic. 

Elemental iron was the antithesis to magic and could impede it in any form, from raw ore to rusty nails, but it’s true power of binding lay in its shaping. Molding the earth and bending it your will, ingenuity triumphing over the unknown. And a clever and experienced Wizard such as himself could see through the patterns of iron’s construction and unravel it.

It was not difficult, these shackles were especially crude. Hastily hammered together from materials never intended to bind. Probably why Hisirdoux was still able to manifest some power. So it only took a minute, then a flick of his fingers and the shackles fell to the ground.

However the damage had been done.

Hisirdoux whimpered, gently poking at one of the angry red burn marks with a wince. 

Merlin laid both hands over the boy’s wrists.

“Sana et integro,”

Bands of green light bloomed to life and wrapped around the burn marks, slowly fading as they sank into the skin, taking some of the bright redness with it. It wouldn’t heal Hisirdoux completely, but it should end his pain for now.

However he would carry the scars with him for the rest of his life.

Had his neighbors known how badly the iron would injure him, a young child fresh into his magic, or had they merely been concerned with sealing his power away at any cost?

The real question was if any of them bloody cared.

“Better?”

Hisirdoux nodded with a sniffle.

“Good,” Merlin reached over and gently cupped his chin, the boy flinching at the contact, tilting his head up to look him in the eye “Hisirdoux, what I can do and what you can do is called magic, the ability to channel the arcane energies of the universe to bend them to your will,”

Hisirdoux said nothing, merely stared up at him with wide, but not frightened, eyes.

“You are capable of so much more than you know, and if you become my apprentice, I can teach you how to wield your powers to their fullest potential,”

“B...but I don’t want to be an apprentice, I want to stay here with mother and father,”

Merlin held back a sigh of disappointment. Hisirdoux might not have realized it yet, but he had no home here, not anymore. No matter, that truth would make itself known soon enough, the only thing to do was get it over with as quickly as possible. no reason for Merlin to prolong the inevitable.

“Very well then,” Merlin stood and extended his hand “I will take you to them,”

Even though he was far from being moved by such things, sentimentality being something he’d abandoned centuries ago, seeing the flash of hope on Hisirdoux’s face and knowing how unfounded it was hardly felt pleasant.

Hisirdoux reached up, tiny fingers grasping his own, and pulled himself to his feet. Following along as Merlin stepped out of the cave, wincing as they stepped into the bright sunlight.

How many days has his parents sat back and allowed him to be locked away in the dark?

Merlin wasn’t overly fond of the sensation of the tiny, grubby fingers grasping his own, but it was the best way to keep Hisirdoux from running off. If their talk of burning earlier hadn’t convinced him, seeing Hisirdoux’s condition in the cave cinched it. 

The boy was not safe here.

And sure enough, as they approached the village, Hisirdoux brightened, and started to pull away “Mother! Father!”

Merlin kept his grip on Hisirdoux’s hand firm, not letting go as they stepped up to the gathered villagers, despite the boy’s attempts to pull away. Steeling his expression when he saw the mother and father Hisirdoux was looking at.

Hopefully Hisirdoux never had to learn that his mother wanted to burn him alive.

The tell-tale clatter of plate armor came up from beside him, and Merlin turned to see Galahad rapidly approaching. 

“How goes it finding the unregistered sorcerer, any luck?”

Merlin paused and greeted the knight with a nod, ignoring Hisirdoux’s attempts to break free and run to his parents “As a matter of fact I have, he right here,”

“Where? All I see is some waifish…..” Galahad trailed off, eyes going wide from behind his bushy brows.

Good to see Merlin wasn’t the only one appalled at how these villagers had treated their ‘sorcerer’. 

And speaking of a crowd was starting to form around them, drawn by Merlin’s appearance and Hisirdoux’s shouts. 

Merlin straightened to his full height and squared his shoulders.

Time to reset the wound as quickly as possible.

“False alarm everyone,” he gestured towards the squirming Hisirdoux with one hand while looking around at the gathered villagers “This boy does have magic, but he is of no threat to you, you can all go back to your ordinary lives,”

Hisirdoux strained as he continued to try and escape Merlin’s grip and run to his parents “Mother! Mother! I can come home now!”

The mother in question stepped up close and glowered down at him, expression hard enough that it caused Hisirdoux’s brightness to dim “That’s not my boy, not any longer, that child is tainted by darkness, he has no place in my house or in this village,”

No one else around them spoke up, either in agreement or objection, although based on the looks on their faces they hardly disagreed.

Hisirdoux froze, expression beginning to crumple “But moth--”

“Don’t you dare!” the woman shrieked, the sheer venom dripping from her voice enough to cause Hisirdoux, some of the villagers around her, and even Galahad to recoil “Don’t you dare address me as your mother! You’re a curse, a demon, you dare to call yourself our child, deceiving us and hiding your true nature so you can bring ruin to us all--”

“Beloved enough,” the man next to her put an arm around her waist and gently pulled her back “I know this is a trying time for you, but you must not lose yourself in such wrathful displays,”

He put both hands on her shoulders and looked her in the eye “Our child may be tainted by Fae magics, but all is not lost, soon the evil will be gone. And there will be more children between us,”

She sighed, slumping in his grip “You are right, soon our village will be godly once more, and we will have more children to replace the one we lost,”

Hisirdoux had gone completely still, staring up at his parents with an utterly horrified, heartbroken expression. 

His father turned back towards Merlin “My wife speaks true, that’s no son of mine, either you take care of him or we’ll do it ourselves,”

An unfortunate but not unexpected response “Very well then,” he gave a gentle tug on the fingers still clasped in his “Hisirdoux?”

The boy looked up at him, eyes brimming. 

“My offer still stands, do you wish to become my apprentice?”

He gave a terse nod, tiny faced pinched in the effort to hold back tears.

“Then let us go and--”

“Hang on,” Hisirdoux’s father cut in “You can’t just carry my son off,”

Merlin raised an eyebrow “I thought you said he was no son of yours?”

The man flushed but held his ground “I sired him, raised him, and fed him. Can’t just let anyone go carrying him off with nothing to show for it,”

The sheer audacity of this man stopped Merlin in his tracks “How are you to demand such a thing when you’ve made it quite clear you’re not interested in taking him back?”

A triumphant glint entered the man’s eyes “You seem fairly interested in him, wouldn’t want to leave him and have something happen now would you?”

Merlin’s expression darkened, disgust he’d thought himself long past feeling slowly trickling into his chest. He’d seen poor reactions to people discovering their child was touched by magic many times before, this was far from the first time Merlin had witnessed parents proclaim their child dead while they stood living before their eyes. But never in all his centuries had he witnessed any cling so greedily to the corpse “You presume much if you think you can command me to--”

“It’s not as though you can just carry him off,” the the man said, unnervingly calm “The king wouldn’t be happy to hear of his Master Wizard carrying off children from their parents. So you can either pay my price or I’ll find someone who will,” 

Around him the other villagers, his wife included, were murmuring in agreement. Mentions of prices or even other options should Merlin prove unwilling to pay floating up in hushed bits of conversation.

Hisirdoux glanced back and forth between the two men. As young as he was he couldn’t possibly understand the intricacies of the situation surrounding him. But he clearly understood something, some base instinct informing him of the peril he was in, that he stood at the crossroads of danger and safety. His tiny fingers gripping Merlin’s hand with all the feeble strength he could muster. 

The disgust filling him deepened into a rage the likes of which he hadn’t felt in decades. Merlin had to make an effort not to shatter Hisirdoux’s fingers in his grip. From off to the side he could see Galahad watching the entire exchange with his jaw hanging open.

These people, who owned little more than the clothes on their backs, had been blessed with a child with immense magical potential, who possessed the power to potentially build their hamlet up to a kingdom in its own right, and this was how they treated him? They didn’t even afford him the dignity that they would a rat or a wolf, to them Hisirdoux was merely property. Blighted property that they had no desire to keep, but every right to sell to the highest bidder.

These fools had done what in a single afternoon what beings far greater than them had spent years trying and failing to accomplish.

They had made Merlin angry.

He let out a sigh and hung his head “Very well, name your price,”

The man grinned victoriously “Eighty pounds and not a pence less,”

“Fine,” Merlin said coldly.

The man blinked, clearly expecting some haggling involved.

“Galahad,” 

The knight jerked towards him, startled out of his stupefied state.

“Write up a contract stating that these two,” he inclined his head towards the couple in front of him “Are to receive eighty pounds in exchange for signing over their son to be a ward of the crown,”

Galahad nodded slowly, pulling open his bag of parchment and official seals “I’ll get right on that,” he glanced down at Hisirdoux, tears now openly rolling down his small face “How about you two go ahead and wait in the carriage, I won’t be but a minute,”

Merlin nodded, turning and tugging Hisirdoux after him as he headed away from the village and back towards the awaiting carriage.

He waited until Galahad and the crowd of villagers were far out of earshot before starting the chant. Hisirdoux could no doubt hear him, but he would neither remember the words or understand their significance.

Merlin preferred not to use blood magic, both due to the impracticality and the immense risk, but today he would make an exception.

Hisirdoux’s parents, with a complete lack of understanding of magic and how it functions, had declared their child tainted and cut him out of their hearts and community. Deciding to either sell him to offset their so-called loss or kill him and be done with it.

Well if that was the way they treated their firstborn child, Merlin would ensure that there would be no more children after Hisirdoux, for either of them.

From now until their dying days Hisirdoux’s parents would never again bear children, neither with each other nor any other partner.

The words felt cold and slimy falling from his lips, the magic they invoked soft and subtle. Slowly creeping into the bodies of Hisirdoux’s mother and father, altering them just enough to accomplish his goal.

Of course the blood magic curse would only affect those two, the rest of the village, the ones who had been complicit at best and gleeful participants at worst, would not share its effects.

But they would see Hisirdoux’s parents, see what the curse did to them without ever knowing the cause for certain. And they would wonder, and they would be afraid. 

He completed his curse just as the carriage and the rest of the knights came into view, falling silent as he stepped up to them, from far behind he could feel the last traces of magic settle into place and the curse take hold.

Merlin helped Hisirdoux climb the steps into the carriage, from behind him he heard Galahad come up and call to the rest of the knights.

“Alright we’re burning daylight, let’s get a move on!”

A quick glance to the west revealed just how right Galahad was, the sun was now far lower in the sky and they needed to hurry if they wanted to make it to safety before the darkness came and brought trolls with it. Moving swiftly, he stepped into the carriage and shut the door behind him, lifting Hisirdoux up onto the seat and sitting himself beside him just as the carriage pulled to a start.

Hisirdoux remained silent the whole while, had been ever since he’d heard what his parents truly thought of him, eyes locked on the small window, watching the village that had been his home slowly fade into the distance. 

“Hisirdoux,” Merlin spoke softly “I know you must be dealing with quite a lot right now, but you need to understand that there is nothing inherently wrong with your abilities. They are a tool like a sword or a hammer that can be used for good or for ill. They are not evil or corrupt they simply are,” 

The boy refused to look directly at him, eyes bright and lip trembling.

“How your village reacted to your abilities isn’t a reflection of your faults, but of theirs,”

Hisirdoux didn’t react aside from a sniffle, small shoulders starting to shake.

Years from now Hisirdoux would look back on this day as nothing more than a faded scar, a memory of a wound long since healed. But the future was far away, and today the wound was still fresh and raw. Merlin had said and done all he could for now; some wounds could only be healed with time. 

Settling back in his seat, Merlin turned to glance out his own window, prepared to spend the rest of the trip in silence.

Without warning something abruptly pressed into his side.

Startled, Merlin glanced sharply down, only to see Hisirdoux clinging to his torso, openly sobbing against him.

The sight was so baffling that Merlin didn’t know how to react. 

What on earth did this boy think he was doing? Merlin was a Master Wizard, not some nursemaid Hisirdoux could cling to whenever he wished. Merlin’s duty as his master was to instruct him in the ways of magic and that was it, he’d hire a nanny for everything else. If Hisirdoux was going to be his apprentice the boy needed to bloody well learn the difference between the two straight away.

He raised a hand to push Hisirdoux away, but paused just before it could touch him. Keeping it poised in the air for a few seconds, Hisirdoux’s weak sobs echoing in the small carriage, before dropping it with a sigh. Lowing his hand to softly pat Hisirdoux’s back instead.

Perhaps some indulgence was in order, the boy had just been cast out of his home and family. Granted it didn’t look like either of those had been worth very much, but still they were all that he had ever known.

This couldn’t be a regular occurrence, as soon as they got to Camelot Merlin would arrange for a proper nanny to handle caring for Hisirdoux. As master and apprentice, Merlin was responsible for Hisirdoux’s education and nothing else. But just for today, he would make an exception.

As their journey went on, the carriage rocking along as it carried them down the rugged road, Hisirdoux’s sobs gradually softened into sniffles, Merlin rubbing his back all the while, eventually he quieted altogether, though still remaining curled up against Merlin’s side.

“Hisirdoux?” Merlin said quietly.

No response.

He glanced down, glimpsing shut eyes and a slack face, a soft snore escaping him.

For a moment Merlin just stared incredulously. 

The child had fallen asleep on him, of all the impertinent-- good lord what if he started drooling on him?

Merlin briefly considered trying to move him, before settling back in resignation. If he tried to move the boy chances are he would wake up, and after being locked away for days with hardly any food or water and his wrists wrapped in iron...Hisirdoux needed a good rest.

And while Merlin wasn’t smitten with the idea of being drooled on, at least while he was sleeping Hisirdoux would be quiet and out of the way.

Tilting forward as much as he could without disturbing the sleeping child, Merlin peeked out his window, and again out the opposite one. Seeing no knights riding near enough to see inside, he swiftly snapped his fingers. A blanket on the opposite seat becoming sheathed in green light, leaping over and tucking itself securely around Hisirdoux’s sleeping form, the light around it vanishing just as quickly as it appeared

Satisfied that the deed had gone unwitnessed, Merlin leaned back and gave Hisirdoux one more soft pat on the back as the carriage continued on down the road.

[gods-no-longer-tread-here]

Blades and Bindings

OOF wrote this really fast, but I’m actually proud of it! Prompt generously given by @bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher , a most wonderful person!

~

Geralt was tired enough that when he saw the dark-haired, teal-skinned head peeking out of the water of the lake, he was able to convince himself that it was just a hallucination. He removed Roach’s bridle, and she inspected the lake closely, ears flicking back and forth, before snorting and ambling away to search the lush greenery for treats.

Geralt hesitated. Roach had excellent instincts. If there was something strange about the water…

Ah, it didn’t matter. His water bottle had run dry several miles ago and he needed liquid. So he knelt by the lake, submerged his water bottle--and heard the hiss of a blade being drawn.

He tried to scramble to his feet, but he was clumsy with exhaustion, and with a yelp, pitched forward into the lake.

He caught a glimpse of a strong teal body darting around him, before he closed his eyes tight and somehow managed to find the little cliffed bank. Emerging from the water, he gasped for breath, steadying himself against the bank--and saw the rather gruesome aftermath of Roach taking exception to whoever had snuck up on them. There was quite a lot of blood on her hooves and legs, and the person--perhaps a bandit--had a crushed skull. Geralt sighed and climbed onto dry land.

“You have a mean streak, Lady Roach,” he murmured, walking over to lean his forehead against his horse’s neck. She nickered in a sound like a laugh.

A low chuckle, like water over stones, made Geralt straighten and whirl, reaching for his sword--which wasn’t in his scabbard.

The teal being was standing on the bank, holding the sword, grinning.

“I’m glad Lady Roach killed that creature before I had to drown him,” the being said cheerfully. “There’s a few too many bodies in the woods.”

Geralt swallowed hard. “Ah. Who are you?” he asked cautiously.

The being laughed again. Its teeth were sharp and looked rather like an otter’s. “You can’t pronounce my name. It’s not a human language,” it replied dismissively, waving the sword casually. Geralt couldn’t help noticing how muscular the being’s arms and shoulders were. Also he noticed that it was completely naked.

“May I call you by a different name, then?” Geralt asked.

The being swayed on its feet, pouting as it thought. “Hmm. Jaskier. Call me Jaskier.”

Geralt nodded. “You may call me Geralt,” he replied. “Can I have my sword back, please?”

Jaskier gave him another bright smile, and said, “No.”

Roach stomped and snorted. Geralt frowned. “Why not?” he demanded.

Another ringing laugh from Jaskier. “Because we must have a trade,” it explained. “What can you give me that is as precious as your sword?”

Geralt grimaced. “I have some money,” he offered with no enthusiasm.

“Your human money means nothing to nymphs.”

Oh, fuck. A nymph. Geralt felt alarm tingle up his spine and prickle his scalp and ears. He hummed, then said, “Do you have anything in mind?”

Jaskier swung the sword in a figure-eight and bit its lip, eyeing Geralt with eyes so blue they seemed to shine in the dusk. Then it grinned, as its gaze caught on his mouth. “A kiss,” it said. “I’ll give you your sword for a kiss.”

Geralt felt a wave of dismay. His vows to the king forbade such contact. They forbade any intimate touches beyond handshakes, actually. He could not kiss the nymph. “I cannot give you a kiss. Is there anything else you’d take?”

Jaskier’s grin vanished, and it frowned. “Why not?” it demanded. “You humans try to kiss nymphs all the time.”

Geralt ran his hand through his hair and winced as his fingers caught in snarls he hadn’t combed out in a while. “I took an oath,” he answered. “I can’t kiss anyone unless I have the king’s permission.”

“What’s a king?”

“A leader of humans. I have sworn my loyalty to him, and that includes following his rules. I can’t kiss you unless he says I can.”

The nymph tilted its head, then shrugged and said, “So let’s go to your king. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind letting a loyal follower kiss someone to seal a bargain.”

Geralt sighed heavily. “You’re right. He wouldn’t. Hmm.” He started to remove his armor to take off his soaked clothes and wring them out--then noticed Jaskier staring at him in fascination.

“You look like me,” the nymph exclaimed. “Your shape.”

“Yes,” Geralt replied, confused. “Did you not notice?”

Jaskier shook its head. “I’ve never seen a human without plumage,” it said. “Are all humans like that?”

Geralt yanked off his shirt and wrung it out thoroughly. “No,” he grunted. “Humans have all kinds of bodies. By the way, are you a man or woman?”

Jaskier stared at him blankly. “What’s the difference?” it asked.

Geralt opened his mouth to explain--then closed it, frowning. There honestly wasn’t much difference. He could explain body parts, but even that wasn’t a solid rule. “I don’t know,” he admitted.

“What are you?” Jaskier asked, tilting its head.

“A man.”

“Hmm.” Jaskier tugged its hair, then grinned and said happily, “I’ll be a woman, then!”

“Ah… alright.” Geralt scratched his head. “Are you… going to wear clothes?”

“Clothes?”

“Plumage.”

“Oh! Yes, that will be easy.” Jaskier crouched and picked a thistle, then stood and passed the thistle from the top of her head to her thigh. With a shimmer, she was clothed in a simple shirt and trousers, both of them glistening green like plants moving underwater. Her skin was white and tanned, but her hair was still short, messy, and dark, and her eyes gleamed blue in the dark.

“When shall we go?” the nymph chirped, grinning.

Geralt looked at his soaked shirt, his armor on the ground, his trousers plastered to his legs, and the goosebumps on his skin from a chill breeze. He sighed heavily. “In the morning,” he said. “I’m not ready to move on, and Roach needs her sleep.”

Roach bobbed her head and butted his chest with her nose.

Jaskier shrugged. “Alright,” she said, and swung Geralt’s sword casually. “Shall I wash Lady Roach’s fierce hooves?”

Roach immediately went to the nymph, nuzzling her face and making her laugh. Her teeth were still strange.

Geralt wondered what those teeth would feel like against his skin and hastily turned away.

When Roach was clean and Geralt was down to his loincloth, the knight and his horse settled to sleep. Jaskier sat a little ways away and sang songs in that liquid tone, songs that brought the hush of waves on sand, the gurgle of fast rivers, the chuckle of swift streams, the patter of rain… Geralt fell asleep quickly and softly for the first time since childhood.

~

Jaskier sighed dramatically when Geralt tried to convince her that he needed his sword to fight and protect them, then dove into the lake (still holding his sword) and emerged five minutes later with a sword that gleamed like mother-of-pearl in the sun, with a golden hilt and a bright yellow gem in the pommel.

“Here,” she said, holding it out to Geralt. “My aunt, the Lady of the Lake, gave this to me after she handed some random human her second-best sword.”

Geralt’s mouth fell open, but he took the sword and held it reverently. “It’s beautiful,” he murmured, running his fingers along the flat of the blade.

Jaskier shrugged. “Aunt said it makes the warrior who holds it invincible. Not a very good enchantment if the warrior loses it, or someone else steals it. Still. You might find it useful.”

Geralt stared at her for a moment, and wondered if there was a way to show his gratitude without offering a favor. Finally, he swallowed hard and sheathed the Lady’s sword. “Let’s move out, then,” he said in his best emotionless voice.

Jaskier smiled knowingly, but said nothing.

Luckily, they weren’t far from Camelot; only a few days. On the first day of travel, Geralt kept trying to explain court manners, but Jaskier’s unstoppable questions about why things were like that kept twisting him up. There really was no point to any of these things, except that they were important. They were about respect and the hierarchy.

“Nymphs don’t have stupid rules like that,” Jaskier grumbled, after Geralt’s third attempt to explain why there were different bows. “We’re all siblings and cousins and aunts and mothers, there is no hierarchy. Are you sure all these rules will convince the king to let you kiss me?”

“Yes,” Geralt said, rubbing his forehead. “King Arthur isn’t as bad as some of his vassals, but he’s very stern, especially after the incident with Lancelot.”

“What happened with Lancelot?”

“He slept with the queen.”

“Why is that a problem?”

“Because for humans, bindings like marriages and unions mean two people are, well, bound. It’s not good when one of them sleeps with another person. And she’s the queen. That’s even worse.”

Jaskier frowned and pursed her lips, then brightened. “So, once the bargain is sealed, does that mean no one can get in between our bond?” she asked.

Geralt stared at her blankly for a moment. Then he managed to say, “No. No, bargains aren’t bindings. Not like a marriage.”

Jaskier huffed and rolled her eyes. “Silly human, kiss-bargains are unions.”

Chills rolled through Geralt’s veins. “You… you want a union in exchange for my sword?” he spluttered. “It’s just a piece of metal!”

“But you love it,” Jaskier replied serenely. “It is old, and you care for it deeply. Therefore, since you lost a part of you in my lake, and I found it, I will give it back if you accept a part of me.”

A burning-hot blush crept up Geralt’s neck and filled his face. He swallowed hard and said, “That… doesn’t seem like a fair deal, though.”

Jaskier scooted over and leaned on Geralt’s shoulder. “You gave me a piece of you. You want it back. So, in exchange for the loss of such an important part of you, I will give you something important to me. Don’t worry, I’ll take it back when you die.”

Geralt’s stomach twisted. Die? Well, he was almost fifty… if he didn’t retire, he would be killed. But Jaskier seemed so nonchalant about it. Had she had unions with humans in the past, and watched them die? That seemed like such a sad life.

Jaskier looped her arms around his. “It’s a fair deal,” she assured him softly. “You just can’t see that yet.”

~

The days spent traveling were, unfortunately, too short.

Traveling with a nymph wasn’t actually that bad; when coin ran short, she amused herself and other people by singing for food, or staging fights. She also stepped in when tempers were hot over stupid things like donkeys or women who weren’t interested. She charmed everyone she met, even though sometimes that had dangerous consequences.

Entertaining as this was, they weren’t Geralt’s favorite moments.

His favorite moments with Jaskier involved her singing softly when it was just them. Combing his hair for him, putting little braids in it. Cooking together, sometimes with her feeding him and laughing when he blushed. Finding shapes in the stars when they lay down to sleep.

Geralt was a little unnerved by how quickly he grew to appreciate Jaskier’s presence. But, well… she was kinder to him than other humans. The mark of his inhuman heritage, his golden eyes, usually scared people away; but Jaskier touched his cheekbones gently and murmured that his eyes were beautiful. His body was bigger and stronger than other humans, and he was often called an ogre behind his back; but Jaskier was just as tall and strong as him, and saw no problem being close. Geralt’s sense of humor made people edge away and look at him askance; Jaskier laughed at his jokes, all of them, and called him quick-witted.

Geralt wasn’t sure what this fluttering warmth in his chest meant, but it made him want to be near Jaskier for more than just eight days. She was wonderful. So bright, so full of life, breaking into the dull drudgery of his life and making it about her smile, not his despair.

Approaching the castle, Geralt began to tense. King Arthur was a good man, but Geralt wasn’t sure which would be worse: being allowed to fulfill the bargain, and then having to say goodbye to Jaskier, or not being allowed to, and dragging them apart, so they couldn’t share their pieces with each other. No, he knew exactly which one was worse--never feeling Jaskier’s soft lips against his, never getting his father’s sword back, never sharing with Jaskier again.

Was this love? Maybe. Geralt didn’t really have much experience with love, unless one counted his shy flirtations with Yennefer, the witch-girl who was about five years older than him and didn’t actually care about him at all.

The pain of Yennefer faded when Geralt looked at his nymph, and he was glad.

Merlin met them at the gate, and Geralt swallowed hard. He’d forgotten the ancient fuck was in residence. Would he know that Jaskier wasn’t human? There was that tale of Merlin’s own uncanny blood--would like recognize like?

Merlin stroked his beard and eyed them both sharply as they stopped a few yards away from him. “Well, Sir Geralt,” the wizard said, “I saw you were coming, but I did not see the nature of your companion.”

“She’s not dangerous,” Geralt replied, a little too quickly.

One eyebrow rose, and Merlin’s mouth curled up into a sly smile. “Why don’t I believe you?” he murmured, then turned to Jaskier. “Welcome, nymph. I am Merlin, mage of this court.”

Jaskier smiled. “Thank you, Merlin. My name is Jaskier.”

“If you two will come with me, I will escort you to the king’s audience chamber.”

Geralt suddenly had to urge to scoop Jaskier up and run away with her, abandon King Arthur’s court, become a wanderer with his nymph by his side--but that was just panic. He had always hated talking to royalty in public.

A stableboy took hold of Roach, who took a moment to nuzzle Jaskier’s cheek before allowing herself to be led away. Geralt ran his fingers through his hair and followed Merlin and Jaskier into the castle. Why did he feel such dread?

Arthur was having an audience with some vassals who were whining about needing more taxes. Geralt, Jaskier, and Merlin waited by the door until the nobles were gone and they were announced.

“The mage Merlin, Sir Geralt of Rivia, and Jaskier, your majesty.”

Merlin and Geralt bowed; Jaskier just tilted his head and looked at King Arthur thoughtfully.

“Who is this Jaskier, Sir Geralt?” Arthur asked, inspecting Jaskier with his gaze, too.

“A nymph,” Geralt said. “She has my sword, and made a bargain that she’ll only give it back if I kiss her.”

Arthur looked pointedly at the sword on Geralt’s hip. “But it seems you have a new one,” he replied, raising an eyebrow.

“It’s a loan until she gives me my own back,” Geralt explained.

“A loan from who?”

“My aunt,” Jaskier answered for Geralt, her voice more uncanny than ever. “The Lady of the Lake.”

Everyone froze. Geralt felt sweat on his face.

“I… see,” King Arthur said slowly, frowning. “And why did you exchange his mortal sword for a magic one?”

“Because it is important to him,” Jaskier replied, as if that were obvious. “The magic one is just magic; the one I hold is steeped in memories and care. Can I kiss him now?”

Merlin frowned and stroked his beard again. King Arthur’s mouth twisted and he looked stern. “Why such a bargain?” Arthur demanded. “A mere kiss for a sword?”

Jaskier smiled brightly. “Because I love him,” she said.

Geralt’s head whipped around and he stared at Jaskier, wide-eyed. “What?” he got out in a strangled voice.

Jaskier laughed and pushed his shoulder gently. “You humans are so silly,” she teased, “You don’t even know nymph custom.”

Geralt could not think of a reply, so he stayed silent.

Merlin chuckled quietly, and said, “Well, that is certainly a twist.”

King Arthur looked just as stunned as Geralt. Then he frowned, and stood swiftly. Geralt tensed, watching the king warily and trying to figure out the best way to escape without putting Jaskier in danger.

The king walked towards them, fists clenched. Geralt stepped subtly forward and in front of Jaskier. He’d rather die than let his nymph be hurt.

“Arthur,” Merlin said suddenly, drawing everyone’s attention. “Do you truly mean to punish one of your knights because an uncanny being fell in love with him? That is not wise, you know; nymphs do not take kindly to such actions.”

Arthur clenched his jaw, then turned back to Geralt and Jaskier. After a moment, he huffed angrily and said, “Fine. You may have an exception to your vow, if only to get your sword back.

“Thank--” Geralt started to say, but he was spun around before he could finish and Jaskier pressed her lips to his.

I love you, Geralt, Jaskier’s voice whispered in his mind. I love you so much.

I love you too, Geralt replied.

Jaskier pulled back and laughed merrily. “Well! Now that the binding is sealed, we can go have more adventures together!”

“I--but my oaths--” Geralt stammered, still a little off-kilter.

“Silly man, I told you all those rules are stupid. Why be knight who has to follow them, when you can be free?”

Geralt opened his mouth, thought for a moment--and began to feel a lightness in his mind and body. “You’re right,” he murmured, almost reverently, putting his hands on Jaskier’s waist. “I don’t have to.”

She laughed again and pulled him close for a second kiss.

[kyloswarstars]

The Shelby Family Teleported Through Time • Part 2

„Into the 21st Century“

Peaky Blinders • Series AU • Shelby!Reader

It seemed like all of your siblings barely had any time left for the family. You wanted to fix it all up and get back to what the Shelby siblings once were. At the Lee’s campsite you are gifted an ‚enchanted amber‘, along with the promise that it would help you get closer to your siblings again. Never did you think it would teleport you into another time: being faced by more problems than before.

Words • 4.8k

A/N • Lemme know what you think about it 🌚

TSFTTT • masterlist

/////

When the first fighters reached their opponents, their swords were going down. You shut your eyes, expected an intense amount of blood to spill, but when you squeezed one eye open you couldn’t see any blood. Confused, you were watching two men yielding their swords at each other. One of them hit a shield and the other one was laughing when his blade came down to the neck of his enemy – and didn’t chop the head off. The guy, whose head should be rolling on the floor, let himself dramatically fall to the ground and joined in with the laughter of the man who just murdered-not-murdered him.

„Where the fuck are we now?“ John was the first one to speak after being ripped awake from his sleep to this weird sword fight.

The confusion of jumping through time was probably even bigger than the first time. Your siblings were all still fighting their sleepy eyes, except for Tommy and you. John was watching the fight with the most dumbfounded look you had ever seen him wearing on his face.

Arthur spoke with a crooked voice what you were thinking. „Why is no one dying in this battle?“

The guy who died but wasn’t dead, got up of the ground, and stood with his opponent and a warrior woman, looking in your direction.

„Guys.“ Finn dragged the word again for longer than necessary. „They are coming over! What should we do?“

John stood and held the rifle at ready. „Get all behind me. They don’t have a chance. Gun fucks sword.“

You gathered behind him like his children usually did. Something about the people coming up was off but you couldn’t pin it down. Only when they came to a halt a few feet away, you saw their battle gear looking incredibly fake – those were not real knights. If you didn’t teleport to the Middle Ages… where did you teleport to then?

„Nice costumes, lads!“ The dead man spoke first. „Today is the medieval role play battle, though. The staging of World War One should be next weekend.“

Their words went right over your head. Stealing a glance at your siblings you noticed them being more confused than ever. Good, that you weren’t the only one. You also noticed the boys growing stiff with the mention of war. 

The three in front of you were waiting for you to speak. Besides wearing fake knight armours they seemed a little older than you and Finn. Maybe in their twenties? What was going on?

„You’re playing civilians, right?“ The woman was offering a smile as she gestured at your appearances.

„Yes?“ Arthur questionably answered, placing a hand on the gun John still aimed at them and pushing it towards the ground.

Ada stepped out, even in front of Arthur and John. „We came a long way for this… staging.“

„You really didn’t know it’s only next weekend?“ The girl was looking at you with a compassionate, up cheering smile. 

Simultaneously, your siblings and you shook your heads. 

The dead guy seemed sympathetic as well. „Are you driving back home or do you have a place to stay?“ Guy number 2 still didn’t say a word, just stared at you like you stared at them.

„Unfortunately, I think it’s impossible for us to drive back home.“ Ada was doing really good with speaking for the whole pile of confused siblings. 

The three of them were looking at each other, shocked. They gathered together, arms around each other’s shoulders and heavily discussed something with their heads stuck together. A few minutes later they parted and came closer.

„We don’t have much space left but you’re welcome to stay. Cosplayers help cosplayers?“ They tried a smile again, even guy number 2.

„That would be truly generous, wouldn’t it be, family?“ Ada turned around, her eyes as big as the moon on the night sky and a finally-agree-expression. Everyone mumbled some sort of agreement.

„Cool! I am Boomer,“ the dead guy said, „this is my girlfriend Eliza.“ He delicately grabbed her hand and smiled at her with the most adoring glance you had ever witnessed.

„And I am Otter! Eliza’s brother!“ Guy number 2 who had killed dead guy, Boomer, nervously managed to smile at you and then glanced back to the ground. His mouth opened once more to say something but, other than some stuttering, nothing came out. He reminded you a lot of Curly.

Ada introduced all of you and sparked a conversation with the strangers who just invited you to stay with them. She tried to cover her question but for you, being time a sensitive topic lately, her asking ‚What date do we have?‘ raised a red flagg inside of your brain.

„September, 27th.“ Otter answered immediately.

„And the year?,“ Finn skipped in. Holy shite, Finn. Make it more obvious please, yeah?

Boomer, Eliza and Otter looked at you like they didn’t really know if Finn was joking.

Otter was again the one who answered. „2021.“

This time difference hit differently. Instead of jumping two-thousand years into the past, you went a hundred years into the future. A future each one of you Shelby’s would be dead in right now.

Ada tried to lead the conversation in another direction. Tommy helped her.

„Isn’t it a bit reckless of them to take six strangers in?“ Arthur whispered and you hit him, gesturing as to what the heck he was doing. You could be glad they offered you a place to stay. If your brother scared the shite out of them you could find out on your own how this damn 21st century worked.

The three of them weren’t a threat. They were passionate ‚cosplayers‘ taking part in a role play fight and started to walk you to their home after Ada and Tommy found out that 2021 was slightly better than 2020 – which had been ‚absolute horror‘.

You followed your three new friends and didn’t really know how to feel. Instead of back home, you had brought your family to this weird place. 

Walking downhill, through trees and slowly leaving the small forest you had crossed,  Arthur sped up right behind Otter. You saw him examine the sword he carried.

„Wait, is this sword made out of cardboard?“

Otter sighed in desperation. „Well, yes… I had a replica of Gandalf’s Glamdring but Boomer decided it would be fun to cut his sandwich with it and destroyed it on the way of my room to the kitchen.“

„That’s a bummer, son. That Gandalf a friend of ya’? Maybe he can get ya’ a new one, eh?“

„Gandalf is not a friend of mine.“

Arthur, being a little between confused and puzzled, let himself fall back to you and Finn. „Otter is–“

„Like Curly,“ Finn pointed out and shut up whatever Arthur wanted to say.

Their small, really worn-down house was settled right at the end of the village, which wasn’t too far from the little forest. You entered the property through the backyard and the house through a not locked backdoor. So much for being scared of strangers in their home. 

Otter was storming off as soon as he got inside. Boomer was backing away into the hallway, letting you stand in the entrance like some statues. „We’ll peel out of our costumes quick and be right back. Make yourselves at home. Beer is in the fridge!“

To be honest: everything was a shock. Until reaching their door, your surroundings didn’t vary as much to those in your time. But inside of the house… your siblings were, once again, just as shocked as you were.

Following your siblings into a room, you at least recognised one thing: a sofa. You let yourself fall into it and were welcomed by its comfy cushions. It felt like it’s been years since you sat on one when it’s only been a day.

„Uh, what’s that?“ Arthur picked up a black casket with a lot of tiny keys on it like on a typewriter. He pushed one of them. A framed, black rectangle hanging on the wall suddenly came to life and showed a woman. Your heart made a jump. Good, you were sitting down already. Arthur let out a quiet scream but then stepped closer to this woman who was talking about the weather. This frame was like the pictures. Only smaller and with colors.

Tommy snapped the little casket out of Arthur’s hand and vividly pressed down to it until the woman disappeared again.

„Oi, listen up!“ He waved for you to gather around him and it was a torture standing up from that way to comfortable couch. „Fact is: We’re in the future so we might see stuff we never heard of. No. weird. questions. About anything. Behave, adapt, survive.“

Okay. Made sense to you.

„And Y/N!“ Tommy pointed at you, with the heads of your siblings turning and staring you down once more. „No fucking time travel without our permission. Who knows where we will end up next. Let us figure out some stuff first, eh?“

You nodded. 

Eliza was the first to come back. Instead of her fake armour she was wearing a shortsleeved shirt and some blue trousers. Those trousers looked so awesome you wanted to rip them from her and pull it on yourself.

„You don’t have to stand there like that. Come over to the kitchen,“ she waved at you to follow and you all did, entering a room that didn’t look like the kitchens you were used to. „Alexa, kitchen lights on,“ she said and a light on the ceiling magically brightened up the room.

Finn beside you stood there with his jaw dropped to the floor but could bite back a question like Tommy had ordered.

Eliza opened a closet – WHICH HAD LIGHT INSIDE OF IT – grabbed some bottles and opened them. 

„Finally something I recognise,“ Arthur went over to her and snatched a bottle. He read the label, shrugged, and drank. Your siblings, confident with Arthur being the first one to stir out of that reservation you had all been in, broke into some chatting and gathered around Eliza.

Finn and you didn’t. He looked at you, you looked back. With a nod you went to that closet and pulled the door open.

„What is this?“ His whisper made you chuckle.

„I don’t fucking know.“ You touched some of the things you found inside. Yogurt, ham, a can with ‚coke‘ written on it? „It’s cold, Finn. It’s a cold closet.“ Amazing.

John stuck his head between the two of you, noticing the red can. „Oi, Boomer. Can I try the coke?“

„You never had coke before?“ Him and Otter had come to the kitchen as well.

„Of course I did,“ John smirked and fished the can out of the cold closet. You closed it afterwards, watching him open the can and sniffing at it. „I think it’s a drink,“ he whispered. When he put it at his lips and sipped at it, his eyes grew wide. You lost track of how many times you saw your siblings eyes get big, or feel your own doing it, because it was worthless to even try counting.

He passed the can over to you, gesturing to take a sip as well. So you did. Your eyes grew wide. Nothing like the coke at home but incredibly awesome. When you handed it to Finn – who would’ve guessed – his eyes repeated what yours had done when he drank.

„Are you guys hungry?“ Boomer’s voice was able to silence everyone else’s.

Otter was brushing past you to the cold closet and got himself a coke. „Can we get pizza?“

„Sure. Pizza okay for everyone?“ Boomer earned a lot of agreeing yeses – not really knowing what you agreed to specifically but Tommy looked pleased with your way of ‚behave, adapt, survive‘.

Boomer pulled something out of his pocket which had all of you shook. He tapped at a really small, glowing whatever and then held it to his ear. Boomer spoke into it and asked for nine pizzas. Should this be a 21st century telephone? Jesus Christ, help me.

It were some crazy sixty minutes that followed. Basically everything was different and new and you couldn’t comprehend what people invented in only a hundred years. Ada and Tommy tried to gave reasonable answers to all of their questions. 

‚You are all siblings that liked to take part in role plays?‘ Yes, absolutely. Your dad introduced you to it because he was good with playing. Especially with hide and seek. He was the undefeated master of staying hidden. 

‚Where‘s your luggage?’ Well, you left in a hurry, thought you wouldn’t make it in time to the role play.

‚How did you get here?‘ No answer, just eh’s of Ada and Tommy. 

When Otter finally asked the most interesting question of why you couldn’t return home and come back next weekend – maybe he didn’t like strangers in the house but Boomer and Eliza outvoted him – the doorbell rang. The pizzas were delivered right to the front door. Each one of them in a cardboard box.

Tommy’s words were running through your mind. Behave, adapt, survive. You were all spread on the living room floor because the kitchen table wasn’t big enough to fit all nine of you. Luckily, Boomer dived right into his pizza so you could watch his actions and adapt them. You had exactly one bite which you already choked on it, laughing. Your siblings had done the exact same thing: watch and adapt. And as weird as this all was, it was too funny seeing them be little pupils in primary school.

„Are you okay?“ Boomer was sitting next to you and had already finished his first slice.

Nodding with a full mouth, you saw Tommy sending a warning glance at you.

„She’s just a little chaotic, our little Y/N.“ Arthur seemed to enjoy his pizza. He was ahead of Boomer.

You pulled a grimace for your brother and were relieved with the topic remaining only how great the pizza was throughout the rest of the pizza eating.

/////

Sweatpants, you learned, were the most comfortable piece of clothing you had ever worn. They were loose around your legs and no coldness could sweep under the skirt of your dress. It was beautiful when you laid down to sleep. 

Boomer, Eliza and Otter spread some mattresses and blankets in their basement. The Shelby campsite as Finn referred to it. And it totally was. Your siblings were laying next to you, kicking at each other for more space when they should sleep instead. 

You stared at the pocket watch you always carried with you. The concept of time differences were clear to you but you couldn’t recall anymore for how long you were actually gone from your own time. The thought about those you had left behind didn’t hit you before. Not until now. And now, it was eating you alive. Had you just vanished and the time back home carried on? Did it stop? What must they been thinking? 

Another time you were unable to fall asleep while your siblings were snoring next to you.

Did Zilpha know what would happen? If she knew she could’ve given you a warning. Would’ve only been fair.

At some point you fell asleep. The exhaustion was winning. Only to be woken a second later by Ada who was wearing a pair of that blue trousers Eliza wore yesterday.

„Where did you get those?“ You pulled at the trousers as you sat up. It was only Ada and you left in the basement.

„Eliza. You can have some too if you want.“

Thinking about it for a second you rather stayed in those sweatpants for now.

„Breakfast is waiting,“ she smiled and left for the stairs.

„Ada?“

„Yes?“

„How are you feeling about this? All of it?“ You didn’t have the chance yet to ask her about it.

She came back kneeling down and sighed. „To be honest I didn’t think something like this could be possible. Ever. I’m scared for Karl and the others. I’m scared we won’t get home. But all we can do right now is be patient and figure it all out.“ Ada reached out for your hands and pulled your sleepy body up with her. „But other than that… being in the future is the most amazing thing ever.“

„The fridge!“ You pointed out as she said it in the same moment as well.

„Come on,“ she linked her arm with yours and led you upstairs to the kitchen. The scent of freshly brewed coffee was welcoming you and you couldn’t wait to have a cup in your hands. Your brothers were behaving decently, adapting to the breakfast preparations in the 21st century and –  currently – surviving.

The kitchen table fit six. John was sitting at the window, Finn and you on the kitchen counters. You almost dropped your cup when Otter, once again, asked the question as to why you were unable to return home.

„It’s too far away,“ Tommy stated.

Otter wasn’t really irritated by his answer. He continued. „What’s your surname again?“

„Shelby!“ John was munching on a toast when he shouted it proudly over from the window.

Otter pulled out his own glowing, tiny telephone and touched at it frequently. He looked from his phone up to Tommy then back to his phone. He repeatedly did this with everyone of you. When he finally looked up for good again his eyes grew wide.

„You are all Marty McFly’s.“

You were what? The confusion was strong in your family. It wasn’t with Eliza and Boomer, though. They dropped their toasts and looked at Otter in shock. What was going on?

They jumped up, gathered behind Otter and looked at his telephone, still with their jaws dropped.

„Bloody hell!“ Boomers hands were clutching at his head in an unbelieving realisation.

„This makes so much sense.“ Eliza squeezed her brothers shoulder.

They were losing themselves in a conversation you just couldn’t follow. They were first of all talking way too fast. Then, using sentences like ‚maybe their flux capacitor isn’t working‘ and ‚what is their flux capacitor even‘. Last but not least: Finn was anxiously swaying back and forth next to you, creeping you out with it and you almost pushed him off the counter for it.

When their hectic conversation slowly faded, your attention was pulled back to them again. For a minute there was only silence. Shelby’s were holding their breaths, as well as the 21st century’s.

„Are you actually from… another time?“

You dropped the mug out of your hand and heard it shatter on the floor. If you ever would’ve wanted to apply for the MI5 – they would never accept you in. Where did you mess up with behave, adapt, survive?

Your siblings were dead silent. And this silence lasted for as long as it took for John to get out of puberty – which had never happened.

Hopping of the counter, you kneeled down to pick up the pieces, the cup had decided to break into, not without some intensely shaking hands, though.

Slowly, the silence got awkward and Finn decided to put it to an end. „Y/N teleported us from 1925 to the fucking Roman Empire invading England and then to here and–“

Five ‚FINN!‘s were shouted through the room and shut him up.

„Bloody hell!“ Boomer exclaimed again. „This. Is. Awesome!“

„It is?“ John huffed. „I think it’s a nightmare.“

Otter jumped from his chair and came over to you, kneeled down and looked at the broken mug. „Eliza, there are shards,“ he said and stood up again. Otter patiently waited with his eyes closed until Eliza came over and helped you pick the rest of the cup up. When the broken pieces were making their way into the bin, Otter opened his eyes again. „How were you able to teleport through time?“ Eliza next to him was watching you in fascination. „Do you have a DeLorean?“ He asked further. „Nah, you can’t have one, it wouldn’t fit all of you in it.“

„I…“

„She brought us here with a cursed stone,“ Arthur threw in from the table.

Tommy looked like he wanted to ban dessert after dinner for all of you because you willingly engaged with the 21st century’s who just randomly asked if you were from a different time. He stood up and made his way over. „How would you even know we’re from a different time?“

„I googled,“ Otter shrugged. He pulled out his telephone, showed a glowing picture of Thomas as proof and immediately shoved the machine back into his pockets. Why would he not let you look a little longer at the photo of your brother?

„You can find us with that, eh?“

„Sure. I can find whatever I want.“ Otter seemed proud of being able to do that.

„Can you find horse racing results as well?“

Um, Thomas? What about the how-could-you-find-us?

„Of course,“ he pulled out his phone again and waited for Tommy to tell him what he should look for.

„Check the Epsom racetrack, maybe 1928.“

That was three years from now. Holy shite.

„No, stop that, Otter!“ Eliza, probably having the same thought as you, intervened and stole the phone from him. „This is morally highly questionable. You’re basically giving him his own personal almanac.“

Once again, wide eyes were growing in the room but Otter continued anyway. He wasn’t questioning the fact you were from 1925, he just really wanted to know how you were able to be with them right now. So, you told them. How you got the stone, what Zilpha said, what happened when you were sitting in the kitchen. It almost took an hour because one of your five siblings constantly interrupted with their own personal view of the events. It turned out, all the stuff you didn’t understand, which Otter and the others had been talking about, was from a movie about time travel. They tried to figure out logical parallels between the movie and what had happened with you.

Throughout the whole morning, everyone was highly invented into figuring out all the questionable things. The previous hesitation of Tommy with revealing your identities was wearing off because they knew who you were anyway. That Google knew it.

It was a wild ride and it was giving you a headache from overthinking it all. But it was relieving to have the extraordinary productive help of these ‚nerds‘, they called themselves. They were understanding way better what had happened than you, who had been through it.

„Okay, I think we should head to the supermarket. You need toothbrushes,“ Eliza stated. She divided the group and picked John, Finn and you to go with her to the store. „Because I won’t be able to carry all the stuff we need with that many people in the house.“

Tommy was standing up and called Finn and John over. „Boys, give me your watches. For all the expenses we’re causing.“

John picked his out of the waistcoat and stared at it for a moment. „Why don’t you give yours?“

„I gave this one to you for Christmas so it technically is mine, eh?“

Finn just handed his over, not even caring anymore. John did eventually, too. When Tommy gave them to Eliza and told her to sell them later and use the money for all the inconveniences, John couldn’t bite back. „You’re getting good money for those. I mean they’re um… a hundred years old but still new. Don’t sell them below value!“

Shaking your head at him, you helped Eliza gather some stuff to head out. She said you would drive to the supermarket. She didn’t say cars looked like that a hundred years in the future.

John freaked out seeing it and wanted to drive but Eliza didn’t let him. Luckily. Finn was constantly opening and closing his automatic window while driving to the store. You were absolutely fascinated by the music coming out of the tiny speakers.

So far, the 21st century was amazing. And it got even better when Eliza showed you the supermarket. She said you acted like ‚aliens‘, starring at everything, touching all the fruits and trying every sample you could find. You didn’t care.

John and Finn were pushing carts and scooting them down the aisles of sweets.

„Try it yourself, Y/N,“ Finn was waving you to him and you came over but weren’t sure about it.

„What if I crash into the shelf?“

„Okay,“ he turned around for your brother. „John, help me here a second, eh?“ Before you realised it, they were picking you up from the floor and sat you in one of the carts. Finn took a run-up and pushed your cart flying down the aisle. The sudden rush of perhaps getting called out for doing this and the possibility of crashing into a shelf made you laugh out loud. And Finn was joining in.

He helped you out of the cart again when you reached the end of the aisle and didn’t destroy anything.

John packed a lot of coke into his cart. Eliza was trying to pick as many healthy things she could find and at some point you lost Finn but found him in front of a huge variety of chocolate again.

The supermarket was a great experience. So was the car ride back. John was screaming at all the other cars you passed. Finn was playing with the windows again.

Back at their place, you ordered your other brothers to come and help unload all the groceries. It was a lot.

They filled you in on all the theories and solutions they’ve been going through while you were gone. The conclusion was: When you channeled your strongest wish, in this case your siblings being siblings again, the enchanted amber was somehow able to make you and your siblings jump in time randomly. Maybe your wish was somehow connected with where you were traveling to. That didn’t make any sense to you, though. The second time you did it and appeared here, you wanted to go home but didn’t.

Your siblings were convinced you should try it again tomorrow. You just shrugged and went to the bathroom. 

Their concept of toilets was awesome and still fascinating to you every time you flushed it. On your way back to the kitchen, you heard Otter talking to Eliza about Wikipedia entries and if he should tell you about them. Eliza said no and that was that. 

After having dinner in the evening and watching that time travel movie on their colourful rectangle – which had been absolutely fascinating – you found yourself collectively brushing teeth with your siblings and stepping on each others feet when you were done with it.

Otter’s cardboard sword was leaning at the stairs to the basement. You picked it up and went downstairs to your siblings.

„Fight me but I can’t be the only one enjoying this, right?“ You yielded the sword, imitating what you had seen Otter doing, and fake stabbed Arthur in the stomach. He played along, falling down to the blankets and coughed as if he was actually dying. „Actually, no. Don’t fight me because you’ll die.“ 

You turned to the next brother nearest to you, Tommy. With the sword on his neck, ready to fake chop his head off, he just stared at you. You stared back for a while. 

He let you win and pulled that infamous half-grin when you gave him his quietus. „Kids these days,“ were his last words when he let himself fall back to the mattress.

Tonight, you were finally able to sleep.

/////

Everyone was preparing for the next time jump. Saying goodbyes and thank yous. To be on the safer side this time, you sat on the grass in their backyard when your fingers wrapped around the amber.

Channeling your strongest wish. Okay.

You closed your eyes, channeling something was probably easier that way. Those two times before you didn’t know what you were doing. Boomer had told you to not think about it too much but Eliza said you had to think about it a lot.

All you wanted was to go home. It was scary to be teleported two-thousand years into the past. It was awesome to see the future. You didn’t really want to fall into a time where you probably wouldn’t meet such nice people as Boomer, Eliza and Otter.

But most of all, you still wanted to get your siblings back. And with that, another time, your insides were turning upside down and you could sense your surroundings shifting even though your eyes were closed.

[geekydane]

Talk to me - Tommy Shelby x reader - chapter 8

Masterlist

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It is strange how fast something becomes a habit. It didn’t take long for you to figure out a way for you to be snuck into Tommy’s bed room every night. As he said you let Ada or Lizzie follow you home. You just never knew when Tommy would come pick you up. Sometimes it could be close to midnight before he came and then it would often be in the family’s car.

The days when he was in the office at the time you got off, he made sure to bid his good bye to you and mumbled a ‘see you soon’. Ada was started to catch on and gave you a side eye when you smiled and nodded back to him. On those days you barely had time to finish eating before he was knocking on your door. It was also the best times for you two to talk. Or at least, for him to talk. He had adapted a habit of telling you about his time before the war. How him and his siblings fought and made up. It was interesting to you, as you grew up without any siblings. Such a strong connection to someone your own age must have been delightful. You figured out how strong a friendship you had as noon of your previous so called friends visited you after you moved in with the Langstons.

Tommy often let you lay closer on those days too. You had found comfort in the warmth of him in the night which was a big step for you that still despised human contact. He would take your hand like you had grown used to and lay it on his chest. The first time you almost stopped breathing until he explained.

“One tap for yes and two taps for no.” He then proceeded to ask you questions about your past and history. It took a long time and lots of questions sometimes for some stories to be told but you quite enjoyed yourself taping away on his bare chest.

It also gave you an excuse to put your head on his shoulder, right next to his tattoo. The story he told about it made you so much more comfortable around him and made you relate to him a bit more, even though you hadn’t been to war, you had had a war of your own. Both of you were still in each your wars in your head and the fact that you could escape that for a while by lying there close to each other, talking. It made it all that much easier to deal with.

After a while Tommy started to bring paper and pens to the bed room.

“It is easier that way, than me guessing all the details.” He said with a smile. You were afraid that it might be the end of you two snuggling – because who were you kidding, it was snuggling – but when he gave the paper to you he patted the spot next to him in the bed and you sat there shoulder to shoulder. As the evening went on you slowly fell more and more into him as you wrote with a book as a writing surface, his arm slowly finding its way around you.

You talked about everything else but work. It was like an unspoken rule and you learned so much about each other in the process. You didn’t know anyone you had ever shared so much random information about yourself and your travels with your father around Europe. You had never had anything missing in your childhood except your mother, but your father had giving you everything and showed you as much as possible of the world while he was working. For Tommy it was the opposite. Not that he was poor growing up, but they always only had the necessaries. His father wasn’t much there and he grew up with a depressed mother, his aunt Polly and a man called Charlie he also called his uncle. They got taken care of and took care of each other. That might be why they all seemed to work so well together.

At the end of other evenings with a lot of notes and talking, Tommy would gather all the notes you had written and threw them into the fireplace. You had looked at him wondering what on earth he was doing.

“Just making sure that our conversations is still private. Other people don’t need to know what you are sharing with me.” He explained as he would walk back to bed and dragged you in close to him before you fell asleep.

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It was after one of the busy night were Tommy barely could get you before midnight, that you had to sneak out of his house early in the morning to get you a new set of clothing. You were almost sure he wouldn’t come to you the night before, which was unusual, so you had started getting ready for bed before he came that night. That also meant that you had prepared the next day’s clothing by the end of your bed instead of packing it in your duffle bag. Tommy gave your hand as you left his room in the clothing from the day before. He disappeared into the wash room and you closed the door very slowly and silent behind you and went down towards the back staircase.

“Miss y/l/n.” The sound of Polly’s voice behind you made you freeze in the spot. What was she doing up already? She was never up before Tommy. You turned around and saw that she was still in a long nightgown in a faded red colour and loose hair. You nodded to her, unable to hide your mortified expression.

“I see you’ve become acquaintance with my nephew.” She said with a sly smile on her face. You knew you were blushing, oh god it was horrible and you wanted to explain, but you were unable to. What was she not thinking of you now?

“Why don’t you join us for breakfast? Maybe we can get Tommy to actually join us too for once.” You just stood there unable to do anything. You couldn’t possibly say no to Polly and she didn’t let you. She walked to you and reached out her hand for you. Unlike what you would have done only months ago, you put your hand in hers and let her guide you don’t the main staircase. What would Tommy say when he discovered this?

You sat awkwardly beside Polly at the breakfast table as more and more of the family stopped by the dining room, either for a talk or for something to eat. You learned that John, Esme and the kids had another home too, but they still got their rooms at the family house if they worked late. Of course that was the case that morning and they looked at you surprised when they entered the dining room. They didn’t ask any questions but send you a confused smile before continuing what they were doing. Ada came in shortly after and placed Karl in the arms of Polly before even noticing you. She was about to say something as Tommy finally joined the room with a quiet ‘good morning’. He stopped in his tracks like the rest of the family did. You felt like some kind of attraction by now and you hated the attention.

“Y/n. What are you doing here?” Tommy asked confused.

“I caught her on the way out of your bedroom, Tommy.” Polly said without even looking at her nephew.

“What?!” Ada exclaimed immediately and dropped her knife; she was buttering her bread with; down into the plate. You looked directly down in the table with wide eyes. It couldn’t possibly be worse. Dear god.

“Well the least I could do was offering her some breakfast. She couldn’t have reached home and eat before work started.” Polly explained like it was nothing at all. There was silence for a long while.

“Good. That’s good. I’ll grab some bread on the go.” Tommy said and was about to leave the dining room.

“Tommy. Sit down for once. You have a guest.” Polly said calmly but you could hear the threat in her voice. Tommy looked so uncomfortable but sat down next to you. The other family members kept staring between the two of you and not many words were said the whole morning.

You never got back to get some new clothes, so you went directly from the breakfast table into the office. It was a lot earlier than you used to arrive and when Lizzie finally came in she stopped for a second and looked you up and down. Of course she would notice you hadn’t changed your clothing. The whole world would know about you and Tommy’s arrangements soon.

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It took some time to get this comfortable with each other. Not only because of your history, but because of that one day at the office after your first night together. Tommy had asked you to stay in his office as he was getting a visitor. Another businessman he said. You started to get that it might be a bit more serious than that, when his bothers came in after a bit, talking about where they had placed different people around the office and bidding shop to make sure than it wasn’t possible for anyone to perform an ambush. Tommy assured you that everything would be alright and you just had to sit to the side and write your notes and observe the man coming in.

“He will have at least one more man with him, but I need you to keep an eye on Mr. King, but don’t get any eye contact. It’s very important. We will be sharing some information today I’m sure will shock you. Try not to reach to it. We will talk about it later.” He placed a gentle hand on your shoulder and gave it a little squeeze.

“Mr. King is ‘ere.” Arthurs head poked in between the double doors and his gaze landed on Tommy’s hand on your shoulder. Almost instantly Tommy straightened up and removed his hand from you. He moved to sit behind his desk before two men walked in. You sat down quickly to Tommy’s right at the small table that was sat up just for you. You looked up through your lashes to look at the two men.

They were dressed very similar. They were both wearing bell-bottomed trousers, cut like a sailors, waistcoat with a matching jacket and a curious looking tartan silk scarf. They both wore a cap similar to the once Tommy and his brothers always wore out.

“Mr. Shelby.” The shorter of the two men said and nodded a single time. He looked young, or maybe he was just one of those who were hard to guess the age of. His eyes looked much older, like they had seen much more than such a young man should have at that age.

“Mr. King.” Tommy said back stiffly and gestured to the chair in front of his desk. Mr. King sat down as the other man stood a little back and crossed his arms over his chest. His focus suddenly landed on you and you looked down on your empty notepaper.

“I believe you owe me an apology, Mr. Shelby. That’s all I’m here to collect before we both get out of each other’s face.” Mr. King spat and leaned forward in a threatening manner. Tommy didn’t move at all.

“I do not have anything to apologies for. I’m simply doing business like any other man would.” Tommy folded his hands on his stomach and leaned back like he was all relaxed. It looked like it only made Mr. King boil.

“Not when that business is on the wrong side of the city walls of Manchester. MY territory. Bring your business elsewhere; you don’t want to start something.” The threat was clear in his voice and the way he said it was his territory only made you question what Tommy may be doing. This wasn’t good.

“You know, The Scuttlers doesn’t have an iron grip on Manchester like they once had. We could walk right in. And the people were very willing to talk.” Tommy said with a sly little smile.

“Well that’s bad for them because you are staying the hell away from Manchester, you hear? I came here to put this past us, but it doesn’t sound like you understand what I’m saying. Keep your Blinders on the right side of the walls and there will be no war. It’s really up to you.” Mr. King was flaming red around his collar but somehow managed to control his voice. At the same time you didn’t know what to write down. They were both very direct and there wasn’t any deals being thrown on the table besides Tommy withdrawing some kind of business in Manchester. You looked to Mr. King’s supposed right hand man and found him still staring at you. You dropped your gaze again, feeling very uncomfortable. What was he even there for?  He didn’t say anything? Was he observing too? You realized that you had zoned out when Mr. King slammed his fist into Tommy’s desk, making you jump in your chair.

“You are going to regret this. If I’m seeing any of your Blinders at my casinos, I will send them back to you in a body bag.” He stood up so fast that the chair behind him was almost tipping over. You flinched when Mr. King’s gaze fell on you for a split second before he stormed out and his brute of a friend went with him. The door stood wide open and you could see Lizzie outside staring into Tommy’s office with wide eyes.

You turned to Tommy that was sat leaning on his elbows on the table. He looked like he was thinking hard about something. Who was this Mr. King? And what was it about casinos? What exactly was Tommy all about? What you had figured was that he had something to do with playing on horses, but a casino was a very shady business and very illegal in England. You had heard of police raiding different locations. It was a very underground environment and only the most awful people would spend their time and money there. You have only learnt about it from your travels in America.

“That went as I expected.” Tommy said calmly and went up to close the door to the office. Arthur and John came up and was about to enter, but Tommy stopped them by grabbing the doorframe on both sides.

“Will you give us a minute.” It wasn’t a question as much as it was an order. The two brothers looked at each other and let Tommy close the door fully. He walked towards you but stopped a few steps away. You didn’t know what to think about it all. It was a lot new information about a person you had become really close to for a while. He was involved with a lot more shit than you had imagined and for some reason he was letting you see all of it. It was like he was waiting for some kind of reaction for you, but even if you would be able to say anything; you didn’t know what you would say to him.

“You know, I am a bad man doing bad things.” He started and tipped his head to catch your eyes. He frowned as your expression didn’t change. Yes, you knew that almost from the start, but either way, you had let him drag you closer and found yourself save in his proximity. It didn’t make sense considering his actions. But his actions towards you were so different than what you had experienced in the office.

“I’m sure you didn’t imagine being dragged into something like this coming here. But despite everything you already knew and things I’ve told you, you are still here.” Tommy turned to his desk and moved a few things around. It looked like he was just occupying himself while he was talking.

“I can’t imagine why you are still here after all you’ve already been thought. But I hope this doesn’t change anything.” He finally lays his eyes on you again and you didn’t know exactly what you saw in his eyes, but for a moment it looked like desperation, only for a split second as he returned to be the business man Tommy again. But that split second was enough for you. He was another person here in the office because he needed to be, or else he didn’t have any business. He wouldn’t be the head of the Peaky Blinders and he wouldn’t be the man that he let you see in his bedroom. That man wouldn’t exist if the hard part of him hadn’t experienced all the hardness of life. It was cruel to say but it was the true. You could only imagine the man he was before the war.

You knew that you had to reassure him and that hand gestures wouldn’t be enough. You used the untouched note paper in front of you to write a short note for Tommy and stood up. Went you walked towards him he reached out for the note before you even got to him.

I’m not going anywhere. You are keeping me safe.

When Tommy read the note it was like his shoulder sank a little. Like he let out a breath he was holding the whole time. He send you a hint of a smile before he went back to his serious expression.

“Thanks.” Was all he said and he looked a little shaken. So you took his hand and gave it a little reassuring squeeze.

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

So nothing really changed by the fact that you knew more about whom he was, even though you felt it should. He was a gang leader, he fixed horse races, he took protection money from the businesses in Birmingham and he wanted to expand his business to casinos. Only a few years back you would have scoffed at someone like him. He would have been nothing more than a shocking story in the newspaper your father would read in the morning, that you didn’t bother much with.

All of that didn’t really matter when you woke up early in the morning to the sound of Tommy’s lightly snoring next to you. His arm sprawled out to the sides to make access to you who were resting your head on his shoulder like usual. The light was still very sparingly in the room at that time but you liked to watch how his chest rose and fell slowly. It was when he was in such a deep sleep he was most vulnerable and the fact that you could just lay there with a man like him and be the only witness to it was just perfect to you.

You were soon pulled out of the comfortable bobble when you heard voice in the hallway. They were shouting and you could hear how they came nearer and nearer. You lifted your head to listen closer and at the same time scoot closer to Tommy. It made him grunt out loud and squint his eyes. The shouting was interrupted by a woman’s voice.  

“What are you thinking coming here?!” She yelled at them and that woke Tommy up. He sat up straight and threw his legs over the edge of the bed as the people outside started lowering their voices and spoke to Polly. Tommy caught your eyes and ushered you to sit up and get behind him, so you were out of direct sight from the door. Tommy reached under the bed at the same moment that someone burst through the door. Tommy pointed the newly appeared gun towards the men. There were three of them and they looked at Tommy with wild eyes. They were all three dirty and bloodied. The all wore very similar working class clothing and the infamous peaked cap. They must have been a part of the Peaky Blinders, because Tommy lowered his gun and reached around to pad you on the knee like he would assure you that everything was alright.

“What the bloody hell are you doing here?” He suddenly shouted at the men, making both them and you jump. Polly appeared in the door in her night gown and a tight lipped expression.

“I’m s-sorry sir but we found Arley, Buckley and Grey bloody murdered near the ducks!” One of them stammered and looked down at his bloodied hands before they dropped down to his sides again. Tommy sat silenced and waited for them to continue.

“They were beaten to death, sir. It was a bloody mess. They had even stacked them on top of each other. We couldn’t almost recognize them if it wasn’t because Buckley had a picture of his wife in his pocket.” One of the others spoke and pulled a picture from his own pocket. You closed your eyes and leaned into Tommy’s back. That was too sad. You didn’t know who those people where but it sounded like they had been straight up murdered for no big reason and they had families that loved them that they would never return to. It made you shiver and Tommy felt that. He looked over his shoulder at you and gave you a small nod.

“You know who did this?” He asked the men and the three of them looked at each other before the one with his friends wife’s picture pulled another piece of paper from his pocket and stepped forward to give it to Tommy. You placed a hand on his shoulder and leaned over to see what the note said. You felt a little victory inside when Tommy held the paper a little higher so you could read it too, but that feeling was quickly replaced by horror.

This is your first warning, Shelby.

Mick King.

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

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Sorry but some of the tags doesn’t work!

[siriuslyshewrote]

hi!!! i rly love ur writing ❣️ do u think u could write an isaiah imagine? he is too underrated omg.. maybe an imagine where him & the reader have been together a long time and he is finally considering proposing but reader is hesitant so he tries to convince them and is real sweet? tysm!!! ❣️

HESITANCE - ISAIAH JESUS

You were curled around Isaiah, legs so entangled you could barely pick them apart, as you lay on the sofa of the Shelby sitting room. For once, the house was empty, and as per usual, you had used that as an excuse to have your boyfriend over. It wasn’t the same when you were both around your family - Isa acted different, and you guessed you did too - you almost had to. Some things you had to hide - bloody hell, you’d hid yours and Isa’s relationship for well over a year, only telling your older siblings (as well as Finn, your only younger brother) about you two after John unknowingly stumbled into a rather heated kissing session between the two of you.

You both lay in comfortable silence, you reading a book, Isaiah humming along to a song on the gramophone, revelling in the peace and quiet. You loved your siblings, of course , but hell, there was never a quiet minute with them around. Nights like this, they were your favourite. You could almost imagine you were living in your own little home together.

“Love?” Isaiah said.

“Hmm?” You flicked over the page, glancing up to him.

He looked nervous, chewing his lip a little - his tell. You ran your fingers through his curly hair, trying to calm him a little.

“What do you think of marriage?” He blurted, sitting up, legs swinging off the couch, his pinstripe trousers creased.

You blinked, sitting up into the same position as he.

“In general? It’s good, I guess. Doesn’t work out sometimes.” You referred to your mother and father, and to an extent, Polly and her husband.

“No...” He paused, fiddling with his hands. You laughed, nervously.

“Is, what’s up?”

“What do you think of marriage, as in... us?”

You swallowed. In the five years you and Is had been together - since you were both fourteen - you’d let yourself only think about marriage several times. Of course you wanted to marry Isaiah - you had known that for a long time, and you thought he’d never ask. Except, you weren’t sure if you wanted him to ask. Because as much as you did want to marry Isaiah, things were definitely... complicated.

“I’m not sure.”

He looked as if you had slapped him across the face. Isaiah Jesus wasn’t used to being told no, or anything close to it. Not by you - and especially not this. His eyes flashed with hurt, and he coughed awkwardly.

“Oh.”

“Is. I don’t mean I don’t want to. It’s just...” You trailed off. “If we get married you do realise how much more of a target you are?”

It had been something that was a constant worry in your relationship - something happening to Isaiah, some angry ex-client or enemy of Tommy’s. Or something happening to you, which was far more likely, and that destroying Is. He had already lost his mum, and his little sister, in childbirth, when he was young. You weren’t sure he could handle more grief.

“I’m already a target in Small Heath, Y/N/N. We both know that.”

You ran a hand through your hair.

“I’m scared for you Is. I really, really, don’t want a target on your back.”

“You think I’m not terrified for you, too?”

Sometimes, you were so consumed with worry for him, that you forgot how much he was scared for you too.

“With my family? They protect me Is. You don’t need to worry-“

“And we both know they’d protect me too. And I’m not talking about them. You think I don’t know what people say to you and about you when they see us?”

“That doesn’t bother me-“

“A white girl and a black boy? In Birmingham? I’ve heard the comments you get, love.”

“And you get those too. Worse than me. I don’t care what they say about us Is. They’re bigots, and pricks. I don’t care.”

You hated seeing pain on his face, knowing you were why it was there.

“Just like I don’t care about the danger.” He replied. “It’s always been there, and it’s always going to be there. But you can’t let it stop you from doing things that you want. If you want.”

“You know I want. But I’m still not...”

You trailed off again, realising he was right. He was - nothing was going to make Isaiah safe in this city, and in some ways, you supposed he’d be safer if you two were married - if he was seen as a Shelby. It was something you had considered before.

“Still not what?” He tucked a bit of hair behind your ear, and you leaned against his hand for a moment, his calloused thumb - sliced open from the blade on his cap, when he had forgotten it was there many a time - brushed over your cheek.

“I think... I think you’re right, Is.” You said softly, smiling up at him.

He blinked.

“You-“

“I want to marry you.”

“You’re not just saying this because-“

“I’m not saying this because of anything. I’ve always wanted to marry you, and before I think I was scared. Well, I was scared. But you’ve always helped me get over things I’m afraid of. And with you with me, I know I don’t have to be scared.”

“So you want to get married?”

“Yeah. That’s not me saying I’ll stop worrying, because I won’t. But I still want to marry you.” You grinned, going to kiss him, before he drew a box from his pocket.

There was a small silence, that seemed to drag, as he fumbled with the box, as a smile overcame both of your faces.

“I know you’ve only just said yes, but I’ve had this ring for months, and I’ve always had it with me, just in case I finally got the balls to ask you.”

You laughed at him. “Hush. You always knew I would say yes.”

“So you’re sure?” He picked up the ring, and your hand, looking into your eyes.

“I’m sure. So sure.”

The ring slid onto your finger - a little loose, but that didn’t matter.

You both laughed a little, standing up , and hugging tightly. You swayed a little to the music still on the gramophone.

“I love you , Is.” You breathed, your lips almost touching.

“And I love you.”

——————————————————————————

Just then, the front door burst open, and you jumped, almost shrieking , before hearing the voices of John and Arthur.

“You bloody idiots!” You cursed to them, still gripping onto Is’ hands, as he laughed, but drawing away from the hug.

“Sorry, lovebirds.” John yelled down the hall, and you heard footsteps, as he leaned against the door frame, Arthur appearing behind him.

“Johnny, Arthur.” You grinned, showing them your hand with the ring on.

It took them a few seconds to register.

“Fuckin’ finally!” John laughed, as you walked over to him, hugging him tightly.

“That little sod asked us four weeks ago whether he could marry you, and we’ve been bloody waiting ever since for you to tell us. Thought he lost the balls.” Arthur said jokingly, as you hugged him in turn.

“Do you blame ‘im? Now we’re engaged he has to be related to you two buffoons.”

Engaged. The word felt funny on your tongue, but at the same time, just right.

You grinned to Isaiah over Arthur’s shoulder.

Everything had turned out great.

[ajokeformur-ray]

Women only want one thing and it's for Carnival to hug them gently from behind with a content sigh and a snuggle

This is so convenient an ask because I know someone very dear to me who less than five minutes ago asked me for Carnival cuddles ( @rebs-doom )! So I’ve made it into an impromptu piece of writing, I hope you don’t mind! The world would be a happier place if everyone had their own Carnival to spin signs and make paper flowers come out of wands. 

Be proud of me, darlings - I somehow managed to not swear in this one!!!! First time ever sksksksk I have such a filthy mouth when it comes to swearing in real life that in writing it just seeps out lmaooooo.

Word count: 1, 910 (I keep you all so well fed lmao I usually go to bed with cramps in my fingers sksksksk)

Arthur came home from work still dressed from head to toe as Carnival; the green wig with the little bowler hat, the checkered blazer and the yellow waistcoat, the greasepaint which had started to flake and thin in places so that Arthur’s natural skin tone was beginning to show through, the bright red nose which made a noise when it was pressed, and those shoes - you had told Arthur so many times to change out of his clown shoes when he left for work because they hurt his feet. Instead, he walked around Gotham holding his usual oxfords in one hand and his bag in the other.

His total disregard for his own comfort and safety, especially in the streets of Gotham, drove you mad, but what could you do? Arthur was a grown man who was more than capable of making his own decisions, and so you left him to it most of the time. You knew that he understood your point of view and that he listened to you, but there was something about coming home in his entire work outfit that did it for Arthur. You didn’t know what the something was or what goal he was trying to achieve by coming home as Carnival - perhaps the bright colours he wore were kept on his worn body to cheer him up, to give him something to pay attention to on the long and expensive way home - but you would support his every decision, even if you didn’t necessarily understand or agree with it. Goodness knew that you did things that seemed utterly illogical to Arthur; still, what was a relationship without minor flaws, a couple without their own strange ways despite the alternatives offered by the other? Your relationship was painfully unique and as such, you treasured every good and bad thing about it.

You were sat on the sofa working on some papers; you loathed having to bring your daily responsibilities into your very time limited evenings with Arthur, but needs must. It was something that you knew Arthur would understand; he, too, often couldn’t escape the daily grind once it had hit that certain point in the evening where you set all work aside and just relaxed before bed time. Your head shot up as the front door opened and closed and you sprang up off the sofa, fighting away the dizziness you felt from standing up too fast.

“Arthur!” A happy exclamation of his name greeting him at the door always put a smile on his face, and you were met with Carnival. Sometimes, when he was feeling particularly happy within his work disguise did Arthur stay in character. It either meant that being his normal self was just too painful at that given moment, or that he just wanted to be Carnival for a little longer just because he could. You didn’t mind. You loved Carnival the clown; you had stopped in the street one day when he had been spinning a sign for a shop that was closing down soon, and his performance had captivated you into silent activity. You owed your relationship to Carnival and you were very fond of him because of it.

With a comically wide smile did Carnival set down his keys and his bag before padding with exaggerated steps towards you. You grinned easily, the feeling of childlike innocence radiating off your love in warm waves, and flung your arms around his neck by way of saying hello. You had spoken his name in greeting, this was true, but even Carnival appreciated actions over words; he spoke little, focusing more on the way that he made other people feel, and with you was this no exception. You pressed kiss after kiss to one spot on his cheek, Carnival’s hands splayed out at his sides. He was frozen in the face of your ferocious attack of love on his person and you giggled against his painted skin before you released him entirely and almost danced into the kitchen; so happy were you that he was home.

“Are you hungry?” You ignored whatever Carnival did to say yes or no, which was just as well because he was leaning in the doorway, one arm propped up at the level of his eyes, the other on his hips, and the opposite leg to the side of the arm on the door frame was crossed over at the ankle. He just watched you reheat his dinner with the softest, kindest look on his face. If you had seen the way he was looking at you, you would have burst into happy tears. You had made something simple for dinner, not wanting to go too overboard because, well, you didn’t want to be stuck with multiple pots, pans and utensils to wash up for just one meal. You hated cleaning with a passion, especially when you had a full stomach and therefore the only thing you wanted to do was to crawl onto the nearest available surface and sleep it off in a food coma; one of life’s simple pleasures which you really didn’t experience enough of. 

As you set about plating up Arthur’s dinner did a shadow come over your shoulder, darkening the area you were working on. A heavy weight dropped onto that same shoulder and arms snaked around your waist. There was a happy sigh, a gentle kiss placed to your neck, and you felt Carnival snuggling up so close to your back that you could feel all of him pressed against you. You tipped your head back, resting your own head on Carnival’s shoulder, and stood there together did you take a minute to just… be. 

“I missed you today.” Your voice was a little above a whisper, as if you were afraid of breaking the tranquillity of the moment by speaking too loudly. You could hear a question in Carnival’s silence, so well did you know him, and you smiled up at the ceiling, your eyes blissfully closed. “Yes, really. I always miss you.” The arms tightened around your waist and he pressed himself even closer to you. Arthur was in a cuddling mood, then. “How are your feet?” You turned, shattering the moment, and Carnival pouted as you turned to face him. “No, none of that. You gotta eat and you gotta get your shoes off. Don’t think I don’t see those blisters when you take them off.” Carnival huffed by way of expressing displeasure but the smile tugging at the corners of his painted lined lips betrayed his truth. He always gave himself away. You knew him far too well. “Go on. Shoes then food.” You paused, caught the pleading look in Carnival’s green eyes, and then said, “and then we can cuddle as much as you want. Sound good, sweetheart?”

Carnival nodded so enthusiastically that he looked like a puppy and you giggled as he turned and almost ran from the kitchen, skidding around the corner. The bathroom door slammed shut and you allowed yourself to truly laugh, knowing all the while that he could hear you. Knowing him as well as you did, you could easily visualise Carnival with his back pressed to the bathroom door, a shaking hand over his pounding heart as he listened to your laughter echoing off the paper thin walls with his eyes closed, a sweet smile on his face. 

Some time later, when Carnival’s shoes were off - you had heard the relieved groan coming out of the bathroom from where you were in the kitchen and fondly had you shaken your head at the way Arthur continued to torture himself in the name of bringing happiness to others - and he had eaten, his face bare and his body dressed only in black trousers, were you on the sofa. He hadn’t come out of the bathroom yet but you had heard shuffling, like he was dancing by himself or perhaps practising. You had always been his favourite audience and often did you grace him wordlessly with your undivided attention. The door cracked open and Carnival peeked his head out, looking left and right before coming out and shutting the door behind him. He walked slowly forward with a slight spring in his step and a hand behind his back and you grinned. Arthur was still Carnival in this moment and you knew this because of the red clown nose on his face. When it came off would Arthur come home to you. 

In the meantime, however, Carnival was going to put on a show for you.

With some complicated but fluid dance steps did Carnival present you with paper flowers out of a wand with a dramatic flourish and a low bow and you had laughed easily at the small noises and smiles that had lightened up his face; he was just so pretty that it made you breathless and stunned into stillness. In the moments in which he smiled did it seem as though the world could burn around you, everything you had ever known razed to the very ground and yet you would still be entranced by your enigmatic lover who stepped into different roles and characters as part of his work; which was his entire life. Arthur lived for other people, having long ago given up on himself. You were the last thing he had left in this horrible world and he was going to hold onto you as surely as Carnival was holding onto those paper flowers.

“Thank you, darling,” You took the flowers with a smile and beckoned Carnival forward with a crooked finger. He stood up straight, came forward with exaggerated steps even without the aid of those shoes which were at least four sizes too big, and bent down at the waist. You grabbed his shoulders and pulled him in for a kiss; you weren’t gentle, putting every inch of your happiness, joy and love into it. He made some kind of squeak against your lips and you pulled away to laugh. The noise which he had been seeking this entire time made Carnival grin, his pupils dilated, and he reached up slowly to pull the nose off his face.

You loved Carnival but nothing filled you with more happiness or gave you more of a reason to smile than knowing that Arthur was home.

“Hi.”

“Hey.” You smiled softly and used your grip on Arthur to pull him down on top of you. It took a lot of fidgeting and shifting but soon enough were you cuddled together on the sofa; Arthur on top of you so that he could listen to your heartbeat, your arms acting as a shield against the harshness of reality. There was no sadness, fear, anger or trepidation within the cosy flat, within your home. You spent the few precious hours you had together cuddled within each other’s arms. There was no need to speak; your love was so vivid, so obvious and so tangible that it felt like a third entity in the living room. It kept the two of you company when you couldn’t be together, lending strength and comfort in times of need, and it shined brightly when you were together, filling the cracks within your souls which were unavoidable as you struggled against yourselves and the world.

So long as you had each other to come home to every night, why, you both had the world.

The Arthur Fleck/Joker Defense Squad @writings-of-a-gen-z      @x-avantgarde-x       @insomniabird      @mavalenovaninagavi     @itwasrealenough     @morrisonmercurymalek     @rand0ms-fand0ms     @rafaelina-casillas     @aclownthing      @rebs-doom      @vivft       @help-i-am-obssessed      @autumnaffection       @taintednihilist   @vladtoly   @mg-woolf99      @misstgrey92  @that-s-life   @dopey-girl-blogs  @seeking-dreamland      @sweetheart-syndrome      @heartxfdesire  @xmusichealsthesoulx       @0callmejude0      @the-one-that-likes-riddles        @hannibalsslut       @folliaght  @freeeshavacadoo         @bingewatchingmylifegoby       @unlovedbyeveryoneandeverything  @okamiredfoxx       @sp0okysp0oky  @the-pandorabox      @mardema  @jibanyyan  @honeyflvredcoughdrop  @emissarydecksetter  @jokerfleckk  @epidendroideae  @chuuntas  @stillmabel  @pumpkinpeyes  @onehystericalqueenposts  @the-jokers-wolf  @nalsswa  @justahyena  @arianatheangelworld  @soullessblondbitch  @gothamslittlejester  @twentyonestarrynights  @sirianfromsixties  @kissmeclownman  @joker-is-my-hero  @lazyloosah  @lovesickkloxx  @ladylovelyluna  @live-love-loki  @clownerybbxx   @tragicarthur    @anmach123     @rommie-chan      @arthurflock     @lucyboytom      @anti-peach     @ immortal-bi-bitch    @hearthurfleck      @crazieroutthere      @curlystark     @hailmary-yramliah    @sagyunaro     @playinthedarktillitsgoldenagain     @jokeringcutio      @xenthefox   @mijachula @stcrrynightsinneverlcnd      @cheyennejonas22    @mrjfleck      @pauli1100     @smitten-susie    @actualkey     @callmejokerfleck   @jaylovesbats    @itsforyoubitch      @ridiculousnerd     @killerprotector3579       @soulsdontbreaktheybeeend     @fantasticwinnerclodexpert       @arthurs-sweater      @pinkie44pie    @tsukiakarinobara      @prettyxlittlexpsychoxprincess     @darkvampiplier     @yours-mia    @rustyt33th     @parkdonghoons

[ladyaj-13]

Fandom Year in Review - 2020

I did one of these last year and I kind of liked looking back at it, so figured I'd do it again. It's got some crossover with the AO3 writing tag game from a few days ago, so sorry about that and please forgive my indulgence. Feel free to use the format if you want!

Activity

Still a fanfic writer! I've also started posting the odd media review on here, and in the summer I did a statistical analysis of the Endeavour fandom.

Fandoms

Arrowverse (Arrow, the Flash), Endeavour, Fantastic Beasts, James Bond (Craig films), Merlin, Midsomer Murders, Outer Banks and White Collar (also Life on Mars and Inspector Morse, but only in relation to/crossover with Endeavour).

I'm obviously well-established in Endeavour (60 stories!), and Merlin too. The others are all new, although I've been reading the Flash for a couple of years, and Midsomer Murders (as a show, rather than a fandom) goes back to my childhood.

Word count – 164,787 (!?!?!? No seriously, how?)

Overall reader favourite – Thin Band of Gold Merlin, Merthur, 3.5k (I'm totally gobsmacked at the reaction to this one. Nearly 9000 hits and over 1500 kudos. In a year. I'm sorry, brag over, I just can't believe it.)

He holds a thin band of gold in his hands. His arms had been rising, as if they were about to place the circlet on Arthur's head. Except Arthur wears a crown now, not his circlet, and Arthur had been out at training.

“I was just cleaning it,” Merlin explains.

He places his gloves on the table, leaning against a chair. “Put it on.”

“What?”

He nods at the circlet. It had been what Merlin was about to do, wasn't it? And it will be funny, the peasant turned prince.

Main fandom reader favourite – Like Spinning Tops we Stop Endeavour, Morse/Jakes, 20k

Peter Jakes was a friend. He can admit that now, now that he's half a world away. Until, suddenly, he isn't.

My favourite one shot – Home Comforts Endeavour, Gen, 8k

“Morse, come in, stop cluttering up the doorway,” Mrs Thursday ushers him out of his coat and through to the kitchen. She's tucked a warm cup of tea into his hands before he's much realised what's happening, and he glances down at it before taking a gulp. “Now, let me look at you.”

He smiles awkwardly, fixing his gaze over her head; out the back window and into the garden. “Roses are looking good,” he tries.

“Those roses need a good clipping, Morse, I've been telling Fred about it for weeks.”

My favourite multi-part – Out of Line

Endeavour, Morse/Sam Thursday, 15k

Morse is pushing forty when Sam Thursday comes back into his life. He'd be happy with friendship; he's always found Sam uncomplicated, easy company. But Sam wants more... and Morse realises he does too.

My favourites by fandom:

Arrowverse – Say it With Soup (Gen, Barry and Oliver). Familiar lightning crackles to a stop. “All taken care of Arrow! Wait - where did everybody go?”

“Home, Barry. Speaking of which - you come with me.

Endeavour – Like Spinning Tops we Stop

Fantastic Beasts – Bowtruckles and Gigglewater (Gramander). His book is finished, published, and it's time to drop a copy off with Tina. But what should be a quick stop-off on the way to seeing some saltwater mermaids turns into something more when Newt gets called in to MACUSA headquarters.

James Bond – Drive (00Q) Bond drags his eyes away from the figure Q cuts in those trousers, cardigan discarded over a chair and shirt sleeves rolled to the elbow, to find M staring at him.

Merlin – White Knights (Merthur) A noble takes liberties with Merlin.

Midsomer Murders – Late Last Night (Ben Jones/Charlie Nelson) Nelson smiles at him; a lopsided, brief quirk of the lips which nonetheless feels warm enough. “So you’re heading undercover and need tutelage in how to assimilate with the gay community.”

Outer Banks – Settle (JJ/Kiara/Pope) JJ moves in with Pope. It wasn’t discussed; he just climbs into the Heywards’ car and they don’t stop him. He follows them home like a lost puppy and for some reason, they let the stray stay.

White Collar – A Secret Impossibility (pre P/E/N) When Peter gets hurt on a case gone wrong, it leaves Neal shaken. It also leaves Elizabeth with a woozy husband unable to move under his own steam.

And finally, in my now annual tradition of accepting that some fics don't find an audience but they're mine and I love them anyway - least read fic:

Sweet Escape (Arrow, Thea/Roy) Thea tips the little bottle from side to side, listening to the pills inside rattle. Vertigo. Only three of them, personal use. Oliver never stood for drugs in his club, and she won’t either. She opens the cap.

Last year I predicted in 2020 I'd finish Tread Carefully, as well as Endeavour one-shots about cats, people looking after Morse, the disaster trio and two post-S6 fics, plus more Merthur and some new fandoms. I made zero progress with Tread Carefully, but everything else I actually did see through! Shocking.

In 2021 I (heh) will finish Tread Carefully and Uncommon People, and hopefully clear some of my non-published WIPs too! In Endeavour, that means more disaster trio (Morse/Joan/Jakes), undercover!Jakes, and some seasonal Morse/Max. In Merlin, it's Merthur bed-sharing romp silliness and pre-series Ealdor-based indulgence. For 00Q there may be competent!Q crawling though vents, and in White Collar perhaps a 5 times P/E/N Diana-POV fic. I hope (and think I'm fairly safe in predicting) there will be a new fandom or two as well, as I like shiny new toys.

[mileycyprus-hill]

An unfortunate update on “Three’s Company”, my Charles x Arthur x Reader fic:

 I know many of you have been waiting patiently for part two of this fic, but after much consideration, I have decided to leave it unfinished. Instead I will post what I have created thus far and explain my reasonings. 

I was so excited to create this, but a while back someone had been anonymously messaging my ask box venting me their frustrations on someone like me writing a Charthur x reader fic. Apparently they have issues with me—a white married woman— writing a threesome fic including a black/Native American character. 

I have been answering them privately so as not to give them the attention they want because I don’t know if this person is trying to troll me. I can only say I’m sorry I angered anyone. I’m not trying to start drama and I certainly don’t want anyone to be angered. 

I want it to be known that I have a love for Charles Smith’s character the same way I love John’s character or Arthur’s, or any other character in the RDR2 universe: not for their skin color but for their character development and good looks that is not involved with their skin tone. I am not “thirsting after Charles simply because he’s black” or “fulfilling a white girl fantasy”, these are outrageous accusations. 

Once this person stopped, I returned writing Part 2. But for days, I have been sitting at my keyboard and have lost my desire to finish it. I wanted to create something romantic and fulfilling between these three characters. A polyamorous relationship, if you will. I wasn’t planning on just writing smut to “fulfill a white girl fantasy” as this person accused me of. I simply wanted to write a love story. 

So instead of leaving you in the dark, I have my unfinished work posted below as is. Despite the warnings I originally wrote, there’s no smut and it’s SFW, as it only contains the buildup and some notes I wrote for myself towards the end. I imagine this explanation will be met with criticism, but I just wanted it to be known.

This story is open to anyone who wishes to take over for me. I openly accept anyone willing to take this for their own and finish it. I just ask that you message me first for permission and give me credit for the original story. (Who knows, maybe in time I’ll return to it when I’ve reached a better place mentally and if no one finishes it.)

Thank you for reading. 

Three’s Company

Part 2 that leads to NSFW smut between you, Arthur, and Charles.

Summary: The three of you notice a particular tension growing between you, and decide to clear the air after an unfortunate event happens at the Rhodes general store. 

A/N: Boy, this took me long enough—only b/c I wanted a particular scene to be perfect. This is my first writing a threesome, so I only hope I did well. 

Warnings: Smut. And references to racial slurs from some a-hole Lemoyne Raiders. 

Part 1 here.

—————-

Charles wakes just before dawn and feels his hand resting on his chest. Blinking his eyes to clear his vision, he suddenly remembers what he did in the middle of the night.

Before rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he freezes and cranes his neck to look up to you from his place on the ground.

Was it a dream? It had to have been.

But it felt so real. Charles still feels the phantom of your heat lingering on his skin.

From below, it appears you haven’t moved an inch and you’re still sleeping deeply. Your arm still hangs from your shared cot with Arthur.

Speaking of, Charles quickly darts his attention from you and notices Arthur’s awake and rising up off the cot, stretching his arms out to greet the morning sun. Arthur’s joints pop and crackle while he loosens the tension in his muscles. His arms and back bulge from within his tight red union suit. A small patch of sweat darkens the fabric in between his shoulder blades. 

Arthur turns to Charles with tired eyes, squinting in the morning light. He greets Charles with a soft voice so as not to disturb you.

“Mornin’ Charles,” he yawns. “Sleep well?”

Charles stares into those blue eyes of his, becoming lost in thought. Those eyes, clear as the sky, look to him with friendly affection. Charles feels so guilty for taking such a small liberty with you while Arthur slept unaware.

Arthur stares back from across your sleeping form, curious about Charles’ hesitation.

Sensing the awkward, prolonged silence, Charles finally speaks, “Yeah,” he coughs, “for the most part. ‘Bout the same as sleeping on the ground anywhere else. But it’s at least dry.”

The side of Arthur’s mouth wrinkles with a lopsided smile and a dry chuckle rumbles from him across the way. 

“Yeah, well...You’re welcome to stay here ‘til we get you a new tent,” Arthur says. 

A gentle cough diverts their attention away from each other. They turn their heads to watch you wake and rub the sleep from your tired eyes. You groan in subtle pleasure while stretching your sore muscles and running your fingers through your hair, untangling any knots. 

“Guess I should get out there before Miss Grimshaw comes in here screamin’.” You state, beginning the day with a dreadful realization. You don’t even bother to say ‘good morning’ as it could quickly turn into a foul one at any moment. Turning behind you, you grab your shirt from the table at the head of your bed.

Charles had forgotten you slept in just your gray, form-fitting union suit. You always found it much more comfortable than a long nightgown or chemise that would bunch up throughout the night. The top buttons are all popped except for one, which holds the fabric just over your cleavage. That one small button, a dot of pale wood holds responsible for keeping your breasts covered. The same cannot be said however, for the perkiness of your nipples, which poke through like small pebbles under a cotton sheet.

Charles’ eyes are immediately drawn to those tips poking underneath the fibers of your undergarment. His throat suddenly feels dry and rough, and his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows to calm himself. It’s a short-lived moment once you pull your shirt over your head. The little mountain peaks are now gone beneath another layer of fabric.

Which is lucky for Charles’ sake, lest you or Arthur catch him staring.

Normally you wouldn’t dare let the other men witness you dress and undress, but somehow you don’t mind Charles seeing. After all, if Arthur trusts him why shouldn’t you?

Arthur’s voice snaps Charles back to reality, and he draws his gaze away from you to his own boots. 

Arthur says to you, snapping his suspenders over his shoulders, “Well, maybe you can come with me this morning. Got a tip ‘bout a stagecoach and I could use some help...and I know how cooped up you’ve been in camp.”

While you and Arthur redress, Charles sits awkwardly from his bedroll as he slept the night fully clothed, as usual.

Your eyes lit up as you pulled your trousers on. “Really? You think Grimshaw will spare me?”

“I’m sure she can. She’s got the other girls to help out,” Arthur points. “We can even take our time getting back and help Charles find a new tent.”

Charles perks his head up at the mention of his name.

“You don’t have to do that,” he tells Arthur.

“Why not?” Arthur asks. “Ain’t much trouble. We can stop on the way back after we all finish it.” He waves a hand, referring to the three of you.

Charles eyes now widen and his forehead softly wrinkles in surprise, “You want me to come with?”

“ ‘f course,” Arthur says blatantly. “Lord knows I can’t do it with any o’ these hot heads,” he mumbles. “Including this one.”

He points to you and you react with a slip of your tongue past your lips, followed by a soft punch in his arm.

A tiny smirk grows on Charles’ lips and he replies, “Sure.”

————

After the job, the three of you rode back to camp in a flash. It was truly successful: a stagecoach of a wealthy plantation owner who had their valuables hidden in the seats of the carriage. Thankfully, you didn’t have to resort to killing anyone to get it. You had lassoed the driver off the carriage, leaving him with bumps and bruises, while Charles and Arthur interrogated the passengers into giving up their goods. It was Charles’ keen eyes that caught the odd stitching on the leather seats inside the carriage, and found the three gold bars in the stuffing.

You all rode hard and returned with adrenaline still surging through your veins and smiles on your faces. It was the best score you’d gotten in so long. A gold bar would be given to the camp, another for Charles, while you and Arthur share the last one.

Holding the heavy bar in your hand, you look to Charles. The smiles haven’t faded from either of your lips, and your cheeks already feel sore.

You say to him, “Charles, I wanna buy you the biggest stakes and canvas I can find. You deserve a big spot in camp after this.”

Dropping his chin and scoffing humbly at your generosity, Charles responds, “You don’t have to do that. I can afford my own.”

“Please,” you continue. “It’s the least I can do. I wanna thank you for being such a big help on this job.”

Charles tries his best to keep his composure after hearing your sweet voice. His heart hammers in his chest, and not from the adrenaline this time. You have shown him nothing but kindness since he’s joined the gang, and will go out of your way to make sure he’s content.

Arthur speaks up from behind you, “Best let her do it, Charles. She won’t take ‘no’ for an answer.” He chuckles.

Without turning, you quirk a brow at Charles. You hope to make him yield under your cool gaze. A drop of sweat trickles down the back of his neck behind his thick hair. The bead suddenly feels cold and sends a shiver to his skin.

Realizing his argument would be futile, Charles shakes and bows his head in defeat.

“Alright, fine.” Charles sighs. Lifting his head, he watches you smile as you relish in your small victory.

His attention darts over your shoulder to the source of a hoarse chuckle from Arthur.

“Good man,” Arthur laughs softly, to which Charles follows with a laugh of his own. 

————

You had stumbled to bed first early in the evening, thanks to a bottle of whiskey you were nursing. The opportunity to run into town was postponed ‘till the morning, as you all wanted to celebrate your achievement.

Charles waited for Arthur to follow you to bed, but the man would not leave his spot at the campfire. Charles felt self-conscious about being alone with you in the tent. He’d feel safer with Arthur nearby— though he couldn’t explain why.

He could just bed down in the scout shelter, but it was currently being occupied by Bill and Javier. Besides, his bedroll is still in your tent. He didn’t want to wake you and be asked why he was moving out.

Because he’s worried he can’t control his urges around you and Arthur? Yeah, that’d go over well.

He’d be better off sleeping out under the stars on the bare grass tonight.

He had half a mind to until Arthur slightly pushed his shoulder.

“Hey,” Arthur said. “Fallin’ asleep over there?”

Charles was so busy with his thoughts, he didn’t notice Arthur watching him from across the fire. The rugged outlaw must’ve seen his drooping eyelids and stepped over to check on him. Charles didn’t even hear his light footsteps, which were muffled by the soft Lemoyne clay.

Arthur’s broad shoulders brush against his as he sits down next to Charles on the dry log. Their soft cotton sleeves rub against each other and each of them feel the other’s chiseled muscles against their own for a brief moment.

Keeping his voice cool, Charles answers bluntly, “I’m fine.”

“Always a man of conversation, ain’t ya Charles?” Arthur teases.

An ‘I told you so’ is cried by Uncle across the way, who sits drunk beneath a tree.

“Just because you never have anything interesting to say, doesn’t mean I don’t either,” Charles quips to Uncle. 

Arthur holds a bottle of bourbon in his hand and brings it to his mouth with a dry, wheezing laugh. His plump lips wrap around the top of the bottle, gently slurping in the warm amber liquid.

Charles watches the large lump of his Adam’s apple bob as Arthur swallows the sip of bourbon. Wordlessly, Arthur hands Charles the bottle, offering it to him.

Charles obliges and takes a hefty swig of the smooth bourbon. It’s so warm, like a hot piece of caramel running down his throat, followed by a smoky aftertaste of maple. Heat flushes his cheeks and the feeling of his fingertips is numbed, along with his anxious thoughts. A wave of relaxation washes over him.

Arthur watches from the corner of his eye, noticing Charles relaxing and struggling to keep his eyes open.

He says to Charles warmly, “C’mon. Finish that bottle and head to bed with us...you ain’t gotta watch tonight, do ya?”

Shaking his head in response, Charles finishes the last tiny swig of bourbon and tosses the bottle into the fire. Those nervous thoughts are long gone and the memory of you sleeping soundly in your bed sends a warm feeling to his stomach.

Arthur continues, “Well, alright. C’mon then.” He pats Charles on his back, “Don’t want ya gettin’ ate up out here. The ‘skeeters are bad t’night.”

Charles follows him back to the tent and is greeted with your sleeping form on the cot, covered in a thin blanket. His heart flutters while he undoes his gun belt and kneels down on his bedroll nearby.

Arthur closes the tent flaps while Charles watches you sleep, undisturbed.

He whispers up to Arthur, who climbs in bed behind you, “You’re a lucky man, Arthur.”

“Thank you,” Arthur whispers, looking down at you with a loving smile. “I couldn’t ask fer a better woman.”

He tucks your hair behind your ear and presses his lips against the top of your cheek. A velvety groan softly rises up from your throat as you roll over to nuzzle your face into Arthur’s chest. An arm is tossed over his side and you cuddle him tightly.

The two men inside the tent chuckle softly in response and Charles lays back onto his bedroll, looking up at the ceiling.

He turns his head to the sound of Arthur’s quiet voice.

“You’re a good friend, Charles. G’night.” Arthur says.

“G’night, Arthur,” he replies with a smile.

“G’night, Charles,” your muffled, sleep-slurred voice calls from the comforting nook in Arthur’s arms.

—-——————

“Charles is a fine man, isn’t he?” You state, watching from your seat. 

“The best I’ve come across,” Arthur answers with his hand in his journal. He scratches away with the small lead pencil loosely gripped in his fingers, sketching what he sees.  

It’s quiet from your tent. The flaps are drawn up to let you watch the members of the gang go about their business. All is calm. The air gently rolls in to relieve you from the humidity. The birds chirp softly from their shady perches, and your eyes stay fixed on Charles.

Folding Arthur’s freshly laundered shirt, you continue, “I sure hope he finds someone.”

“What you mean?” Arthur asks, his attention still on his rough sketching.

“Oh...I dunno,” you reply, dropping a shirt onto the pile of folded laundry. “He doesn’t deserve to be so lonely like he is. I just hope he finds happiness.”

Arthur eyes you suspiciously, watching you fold his clothes onto a neat pile. He follows your gaze over to Charles, who readies a pile of fresh lumber to be chopped into firewood. Arthur watches Charles remove his rawhide vest before unbuttoning his crimson shirt to reveal his masculine form. His smooth skin glistens with sweat. 

Arthur never noticed until now how very little body hair Charles appears to have. His chest shines with a bright, welcoming sheen that promises to be warm...bold...and fulfilling. 

A sudden feeling catches Arthur by surprise. 

It’s not jealousy. No, far from that. 

A feeling of low self-worth is what it is, a blushing embarrassment that fills his stomach. For Arthur rarely gets jealous, but easily self-conscious. Could it be you have developed feelings for Charles?

Could it be Arthur feels them too?

Wait, what?

Arthur squints his eyes in confusion. He hasn’t felt this way since he first started courting you. That same flutter in his stomach that rises in his chest, he’s feeling it again. 

“Arthur?” you ask. You pause your folding and watch his vacant stare. His eyebrows furrow for a moment as if he’s in deep thought, until he blinks them away at the sound of your voice calling him. 

“Huh? Oh, yeah,” Arthur coughs. “*ahem* Yeah, I hope he does too.” He rolls his shoulders to relieve the sudden tension that was growing. With a pop of his neck and a clear of his throat, he resumes his sketching. 

Your gaze doesn’t falter from Arthur, and he senses it. He feels you watching him with a curious look. The tension in his shoulders return and he struggles to draw in his journal under your stare. 

With a frustrated huff, he looks up from his journal. 

“What?” he asks, reserving his annoyance. 

“Nothing,” you reply cooly. A quirk of your lip shows a subtle smile that quickly melts away, but Arthur catches it. He recognizes that little mischievous smile that fleets within a second. 

It’s as if you already know. 

Could you read him that easily? 

——————

With a final strike of the axe and the tick of his pocket watch marking 11:00, Charles finishes his chore. Fixing the string that ties his hair back, he walks back to his trunk where his tent once stood. He grabs a clean shirt and his billfold, before stepping to the horse station to saddle Taima. 

......

A/N: (This is where I stopped, everything else here is the rest of the rough draft riddled with notes. The three of you head to Rhodes to help Charles get new tent supplies. He goes into the store on his own while you and Arthur wait at the saloon for him. Two Lemoyne raiders at the saloon decide to give Charles trouble while you and Arthur defend him. Nothing physical, just the raiders saying nasty things and Charles decides its best the three of you leave to avoid an altercation. Luckily, the sheriff shows up anyway to put the raiders in their place. )

After the Rhodes saloon.

(All three of you pitch Charles’ tent, an a-frame much like john’s.)

You and Arthur talk to Charles who is brooding underneath a tree after the three of you left.

You both tell him you admire him. Arthur places a hand on his right knee, while you place a hand on his left, just above his thigh.

Charles looks to you both in confusion.

......

“Charles? You ok?” You ask him softly.

......

“We love you, Charles. You know that, don’t you?” You say, bringing your face closer to his.

“Yeah, I know.” He answers, turning his gaze to you. He assumes you mean in a familial way. That is, until your lips brush against his. He gasps softly at your kiss and looks over to Arthur in shock and confusion.

Arthur looks into Charles’ eyes and tips his head in permission.

“I...I don’t understand,” Charles says.

[adorable-american]

So, I'm in the mood for vampire drama...

UKUS, suggested Franada

Disclaimer: I do not own hetalia or any of its characters.

Warning! Rape, violence, and mentions of blood.

Pt1

Alfred was a renounced vampire hunter, a name that carried well in the world of monsters and those who knew the ugly truth. Alfred had been blind from this world until the age of 19 when his twin brother had disappeared and the only trace left was a jagged tooth, a clump of unidentified hair, and blood. Lots of blood. The local police had never seen anything like it, higher ups had been called and informed of the strange findings. Whatever happened that night, the struggle was obvious and Alfred hated himself for not being there with his brother. For not being able to help him, instead he had been on a date with some cheerleader from their college. Months had passed without much as a letter or a phone call from both the police or the feds that had been on the case. It was like the world had forgotten all about his brother. But Alfred didn't. He took to the internet, quickly finding tales and lore about hideous beasts and monster that preyed on humankind. Not much longer after that initial search Alfred became engrossed with the supernatural. His obsession caused him to lose sleep, to lose track of time, missing classes and assignments. Just as quickly as he found a path with answers, he lost the life he had been building for himself. He was kicked out of the student apartment complex, out of the college, and on his way with a single motive.

Find out the Truth.

-----

It had been years later when Alfred started earning his notoriety in this horrific world. But he didn't care, he was revenging his brother. His brother who he now knew had been attacked by a vampire, razor sharp teeth that could slash open the human throat in one bite. Eyes that glowed with hunger, beauty so perfect that you were invited in by their presence, an aura that soothed the most anxious of souls, the vampire was deemed "The Perfect Hunter" because everything about them invited you in, but just as the creatures had as many abilities, they had as many weakness also. Daylight, for example, burned their cold bodies, fire turned them to ash, beheading disabled them but didn't fully kill them, a stake to the heart was highly effective but it had to be certain types of wood, etc.

Having been tracking down the vampire that was there that night was Alfred's main goal, but he had nothing to describe the vampire except for he knew the vampire to be blonde, with long curly hair. And that was such a broad detail. Nonetheless, every vampire knew he was looking for one of their kind. To the Vampires, Alfred was known to take them in and torture them in hope of answers, answers none could give before they eventually died of sun exposure or Alfred's impatience. He typically held them long enough for the hunger to drive them mad. However long that was, depended on the vampire itself, typically older vampires needed less to survive compared to new vamps.

It wasn't until after his 25th birthday that Alfred gotten his first solid lead. A happy birthday card had been left for him under his car windshield wiper and in Matthew's handwriting. "He's alive." Alfred let out a breath of relief. All this time he never felt like his brother had been gone but he felt crazy when thinking he had felt like he was being watched for the past several weeks now. It had to have been Matthew right? Why would his kwn brother stay away from him after all this time? And why not let him know he was alive?

.... the realization of answers to that last question now troubled the hunter. He felt sick to his stomach with possibilities. "I need a drink" he said aloud as he crumbled the card in his fist.

"Me and you both." A smooth accented voice responded to him but as soon as he turned, already pulling a cedarwood stake from his pocket, the parking lot behind him was empty. Knowing good and well he heard someone Alfred didn't let his guard down. "Put that thing away and maybe I can answer some of your questions... hunter~" the smooth voice called to him again but every direction he looked was empty. He couldn't fight what he couldn't see.

"Show yourself!" Alfred yelled into the night air.

There was a long pause before a cool voice whispered. "Turn around."

Alfred whirled around, his arm raising to stab whoever was behind him but just as quick as he turned the creature he expected to find grabbed his arm, bending him and his hand back until the weapon clattered against the pavement. He didn't see the figure as he was righted again and his weapon gone.

"Tut tut tut" the vampire clicked his tongue as he appeared once again behind the hunter. This time when Alfred whirled around he saw the vampire. He stood cooly behind Alfred. The vampire was obviously older as his clothing was centuries old.

He was faced with a British vampire, one who wore high waisted trousers, a wool printed vest, a matching tail coat, a cane, and a top hat that hid most of his blonde hair. Someone of great importance in that time period Alfred could assume. But Alfred couldn't look away as he was transfixed by the vampire's glowing emerald eyes. He was one of the most beautiful vampire's Alfred had ever seen. And he had seen plenty.

"Your brother..." the vampire started to speak and Alfred had felt the lull of his voice soothing him. Drawing him in. He wanted to reach out and touch this man but realization dawned on him and again he was flailing for a weapon.

The vampire watched as the hunter was so quickly eased into the false safety his kind exuded with. But as his eyes quickly became wide with the realization he took the hunter by both wrists and slammed him against the trunk of his own car. He did jt hard enough that the hit to Alfred's head caused him to lose focus.

Alfred's head hurt and his vision swam with pain, the sudden movement caused his glasses to go askew and this further blurred his vision. The vampire that was now over him was holding his wrists tightly. "This is it" Alfred thought as he swallowed hard. He could feel the vampire pressing against his lower body as green eyes were curiously checking him over. His glasses were fixed and he could clearly see the smug look on the vamps face. "Who are you? What do you want?" Alfred said through gritted teeth as the vampire moved his wrist above his head, one hand now holding him down as the other raked over his upper body.

"Arthur. Arthur Kirkland." He finally introduced himself. His eyes inspecting the hunter who was now in such a compromising position. He let his hand rake slowly down the hunter's chest and stomach until he hit the hunter's belt. His hand skimmed over to Alfred's groin. Palming the hunter through his jeans. This was going to be much easier than he thought. "If you want to see your brother, you are going to have to make the same deal he made all those years ago to another vampire."

Alfred shuddered at the vampire's touch. Biting his lip as he refused to give the vampire any satisfaction for this. "W-what are you talking about?"

"Your brother, he gave himself over to a vampire named Francis." Arthur spoke again in a cool voice as he leaned against the hunter. Nipping at his lower lip, his sharp teeth easily tearing the skin open as he had a small taste of the hunter.

Alfred hissed at the pain and headbutted the vampire over him.

The vampire, Arthur, wasn't hurt by the action but it obviously made him mad as his free hand came up to the hunter's jaw. His grip was so tight Alfred whimpered in pain, he could almost feel the bones crunching under the pressure. "Don't." Arthur warned.

Defiant, Alfred spat into the vampire's face.

Arthur remained cool as he pulled out a handkerchief, wiping the saliva off his cheek before shoving the cloth into Alfred's mouth. "I tried to be nice." He said baring a mouth full of jagged teeth and ripping Alfred's shirt as he tore open the skin over Alfred's collarbone.

Alfred felt as his skin was ripped away, blood flowing quickly down his chest. The vampire's tongue and mouth quickly lapping up the blood. His limbs grew weak, the vampire let his arms go as he now held Alfred up by his coat. His head lulled to the side as the vampire moved him so he coukd get a better angle. His legs had gave out moments ago and he couldn't feel anything except the vampire's teeth and tongue over his collarbone.

"You look so cute like this." Alfred's vision was swimming again but he could hear the sneer in Arthur's voice. He was pushed up onto the trunk of the old car as Arthur moved his attention elsewhere. Undoing the buckle of Alfred's belt he slowly undid the hunter's jeans. Hoping the human could feel everything. Alfred's flaccid member was stroked to life as the vampire made more bite marks, claiming the hunter for his own musings.

Alfred hissed at each bite to his swelling member but still couldn't deny the mixture of pain and pleasure was turning him on. The biting stopped, but the strokes continued in an agonizingly slow pace. The vampire's bloody wrist had then been pressed into his mouth. At first he refused, Arthur punished him but thumping his sensitive member, it wasn't until Alfred accepted the vampire's blood that he was then rewarded. The hand around his memver stroking hard and fast as praise. "Good boy~" Arthur's voice echoed out against his darkening vision. He came for the vampire before falling unconscious to the pavement.

Arthur smiled as he gathered up the defeated hunter and carried him easily to the motel room in which he was staying for the week.