#i may or may not have gotten carried away talking about arthur

[everlastingdreams]

The Weeping Monk x Fem!Reader : Forged Of Fire Chapter 34

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Story Summary: Raised under the tiranny of your own family, and forced to steal to earn your keep, you struggle to survive. Born from a Fey mother, and a Manblood father who wanted only sons, you are forced to hide your Fey side. When you are ordered to steal from Father Carden by your half-brother, Cassian, your life spirals out of control and you find yourself at the mercy of the Weeping Monk. The life you knew changes drastically when Cassian betrays you in the cruelest of ways. A trade is made, a promise is broken, and a debt must be paid.

Chapter Title: Out Of The Ashes

Notes: /

Warnings: Angst. Hurt. Trauma bonding. Intrafamily violence. Depression. Self-harm. Suicidal thoughts. Violence. Torture. Gore. Pining. Trauma. Self-Flagellation. Manipulation. Strong Language. Blood. Misogyny. PTSD. Spicy and smut parts. Slight redemption arc. Lima/Stockholm syndrom-ish. Childhood trauma.

Other warnings: Jealousy. Forced Marriage. Forbidden Love. Romance. Slow-burn. Found Familly-ish. Comfort. Fluff. !SMUT and SPICE!

Word count of this fic: +250K

Chapter:  34/47

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Merlin rode beside Arthur and Gawain, they were speaking of Nimue from what you could hear. Percival had gone to ride with Pym for a while. Red Spear had brought some of her crew from her ship along on the journey, it brought a small sense of added safety. One of those raiders, a young man called ‘Hawk’ , had started to talk to you randomly and had not stopped since at least an hour. He told you the strangest stories, of how he once got an arrowhead lodged in his thigh and how he once fell overboard when drunk. Less than four words you had said to him during his stories, he just seemed to love talking to all who would listen. Lancelot rode not far away from you, keeping somewhat of a distance from the group. And when you had looked back at him he send you a curious look, undoubtedly wondering how long it would take you to tell the chatty young man to go away. But you didn’t, and caught the Ash Man rolling his eyes when Hawk started another story.

“We will pass through Ravenwick.” Merlin said out loud to the others. “Then travel along the rivers until we reach our destination. We need to avoid the main roads if we wish to spare ourselves from encountering trouble.”

Whilst the others agreed, you were too distracted by what was said to notice how a branch had gotten stuck to your satchel. There was a strong tug and then the grass was getting awfully close really fast. Your hip hit the journals inside the satchel and you could already imagine the bruise that would grow out of that. All came to a halt and before you could even process being on the ground, Hawk had hooked an arm under yours and was helping you up to your feet. How was he so quick to help, had he jumped off of his horse?

“Up you go, miss.” he said, sounding like he was used to picking people up from the ground.

“Thanks.” you swayed on your feet a little until Lancelot kept you steady by the elbow.

“Are you alright?” he worriedly asked.

“I think so. My satchel got caught on a branch.” It was a bit embarrassing.

Gawain rode up along with the others. You spoke up about what you had heard right away.

“We’ll be passing through Ravenwick?” you asked.

“Is there a problem?” Arthur wondered.

They did not know of your history with the place. “It will be a risk. Abbot Wicklow will have eyes set on Ravenwick, he knows I used to live there and may believe Lancelot and I will set foot in the city again.”

Gawain chimed in, “Then we will be careful and discreet. Either we go through Ravenwick, or we travel on roads that Uther’s soldiers often use and if they see Merlin they will not be kind to us.”

Then you realized something, Aldith would not have carried all his wealth to Morrowstead with him. If all that coin was still in your old home hidden somewhere, it could be very helpful to all.

“Can we stop at my old home? My father may have hidden matters that we can really use.” You held back from telling him what it might actually be.

Lancelot voiced his concern, “Are you sure about going back there?”

It would be a waste not to. “My father stole from the Fey just like the Church does. It would benefit us all if we found matters worth coin there.”

No one could argue with that, coin would be very helpful, or soon everyone would run out of things to trade just to eat.

“A wise decision.” Merlin said upon hearing it.

But Lancelot was not so quickly convinced. “I do not consider it wise.” he said to you. “You told me you never wanted to go back there.”

That was true. But now people were depending on it. “And I meant it. But this isn’t just about me. How else are we going to pay for an inn? For meals? And maybe I can get my clothes, if they haven’t tossed or burned them.”

Finally, he agreed to the plan and saw to it that you got back on your horse safely. You adjusted the satchel so the strap could not get caught on a branch again.

“Careful now.” Lancelot stood beside you, placing his hand on your thigh in an almost innocent manner.

Looking down at him, you could see that boyish smile that gave him an innocent look, especially with how the sun landed on those eyes and lighted them much like valuable gems. You patted his hand, he stepped away and did not look back to see your reaction when he gave your thigh a squeeze and proceeded to climb back into Goliath’s saddle. That cheeky…

Hawk walked up to you. “This reminds me of when I was traveling to Gramaire and my friend Eli over there-”

His new story was cut short when Lancelot steered Goliath to your side and forced Hawk back. The young Hawk picked up on the meaning of it and with a polite nod your way, he went back to his horse to ride with the rest of Red Spear’s group.

“You are too polite.” Lancelot said.

You grinned at him. “Because I know how rude you can be and it balances it out.”

He scoffed, feigning insult. “I am not rude.”

Oh really? “You nearly trampled Hawk with Goliath just now.”

“I was sparing you from having to listen to another one of his stories.” Was his excuse.

You kept looking to the path ahead. “Almost seems like you have been without attention for a bit too long today.”

He picked up on the playful intention behind it. “Are you accusing me of being too attached?”

Your grin widened. “I’m not accusing you of anything. I know you are.”

He steered Goliath closer. “Is that a complaint?”

“No.” You shrugged your shoulders. “Just amusing to me how distant you behaved towards everyone when we first met, and now you are like this with me.”

He was honest about the reason, “I was distant because I could not trust those around me, a problem I did not have with you.”

It was a risky jest, “Because I was chained and tied up.”

A sigh. “Yes. Because I could tie you up and put a rag over your mouth when you became too much too bear.”

You swatted at his arm. “You…”

He caught your wrist. “You hit lighter than a breeze.”

The jest fell from you, “You want me to use my strength?”

An intrigued smirked graced his lips. “That would be interesting.”

You fed that intrigue. “I’ll remember that.”

“Oh?” He leaned a little your way.

When you hummed cheekily, his gaze fixed on your lips and it only made you smirk back at him.

“Lancelot.” Gawain called out to him and beckoned him over.

With a polite tilt of his head your way, Lancelot rode ahead to go and listen to Gawain. The longer the ride went on the more everyone had switched places in the group. By the time Ravenwick came into sight you had spoken to at least four different people. Pym, two from Red Spear’s crew and then Red Spear herself. And the Red Spear was eager to offer her help in collecting the valuables from Aldith’s manor, you saw no issue with it. Aldith would have hidden his most valuable items well and you had no doubt that some of that manor would have to get damaged to find it all.

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  At sundown you reached Ravenwick. There were barely any people still outside. The fortunate thing was that you knew this place like the back of your hand and knew what paths were more discreet. Everyone had dismounted and followed you on foot until Gawain came up with the idea to take some of the group to the other side of Ravenwick already to draw less attention, there they would wait for you to join them again. Red Spear chose three of her crew and chose to stay at your side to help. Merlin, Pym and Percival went with Gawain out of precaution against Red Paladins and Uther’s soldiers. Arthur decided to help in the manor as well. The seven of you continued to your old home on foot, leading the horses by the reins until you were at the hitching post just beside the manor. Red Spear ordered two of her comrades to remain outside and keep watch for any trouble, then she followed you to the the door of your home. Hawk, who she had chosen to come along, was carrying two large woven sacks to fill. Unfortunately the door was locked well.

“What now?” Arthur wondered out loud.

Red Spear did not answer, she walked to one of the windows around the corner and broke it with the back of her spear. She was the first to climb into your old home and helped you in a bit, the others followed.

“We fill the sacks?” She was asking for approval from you a bit awkwardly.

You gave the permission. “Go ahead. Search this place, my father must have hidden some of his coin in here somewhere. I am going to see if there is still something left of my belongings.”

She was happy to oblige and ordered Hawk to help her search the place. Arthur hurried after her to help, and maybe to remind her not to make too much noise.

“She’s going to tear this place apart in search of coin.” Lancelot quietly commented to you.

“Good.” You hoped this place would at least bring some joy to someone.

Seeing it now, in it’s desolated state, was strange. It brought back so many memories, and none were pleasant. Seconds passed before you realized you had not taken a single step.

There, on one of the chairs you had scraped your knee badly when Cassian had once pushed you to the floor. And on the carpet was still the bloodstain that came from a nosebleed after Aldith had struck you once again, hours you had spend trying to get the stain out to no avail, he was furious you had ruined the carpet. Lancelot’s voice rang through your distracted thoughts. You turned to look at him just to realize he must have been trying to get you to snap out of the past you were stuck in unbeknownst to him.

“We should not be here.” he said after seeing the haunted look in your eyes. “I do not want you to be here anymore.”

He did not hold back on letting that be known. That smile and joy in your eyes from earlier was completely gone, stolen by the memory you had stepped into. He could not bear to see it happen.

You shook your head. “I’m fine.”

He did not like it, not one bit. But Aldith owed you an inheritance, one that you could use for good. Slowly you began to walk through the rooms. The kitchen where you had to prepare food for them, the dining room where they tossed it at your head when their meal wasn’t warm enough. And if they caught you tasting… if they knew you tried to eat without ‘earning’ it…

You were grateful it was quite dark inside, only the moonlight falling through the windows offered light, because your mouth was quivering often and you did not want anyone to see.

The hall that lead to the stairwell. The stairwell where you were once pushed down from by Cassian and his friends as a child. Your stomach turned there, and for a second you waited before ascending it. On the upper floor, there was the hall that lead to all the bedrooms and rooms filled with clutter. You passed by a painting on the wall, depicting a sheep being slaughtered, it was hanged there to remind you of what you were to them, that was what they had always said. Beside the painting was damage to the wall, one of the times you had tried to escape… Aldith had slammed your head against that wall so hard you thought it was the end, he had kept doing it whilst screaming how you would end up like the sheep in the painting.

You were breathing hard, staring at that wall and the painting, tears warming your cheeks without realizing it. To remember that paralyzing fear was what brought it back to life. Trapped in that dreadful feeling, a gentle touch was hard to distinguish from a malicious one. Lancelot had tried to offer comfort, but you had lashed out in the darkness at him, pulling away from him, shoving him back in defense against a threat long buried in the past. Instant guilt riddled your conscience, it had been so long since you had felt this awful.

“I’m sorry… I didn’t meant to…” it came out in a sob.

He had you in his arms so quickly you had barely time to notice he had moved at all. That instant feeling of his warm arms around you, that soft hushing in your ears as he rubbed your back to sooth you. You nested into him, holding him tight against your form, neither moved for quite some time. Once the worst of the emotion had passed, you were confused by how easy it felt to fall asleep when he held on like this, he made you so calm and comfortable.

“I’m going to fall asleep like this.” you mumbled against him.

He brushed a hand over your head. “Better?”

You nodded, taking the opportunity to enjoy that Fey scent of his. “Thank you.”

“Always.” he said. Then did not let go until you did so first.

You wiped your cheeks dry with your sleeves, uttering another apology that he deemed unnecessary.

He cradled your face. “I hate to see you return to this place, I can see the toll it takes.”

You took his hands from your face and held them in your own. “Sometimes I feel guilty for their deaths. I consider this a reminder that the world is better off without them in it.” At the far end of the hall, in the corner, was a door. “My room was over there.”

“I’m going with you.” It was a statement.

You grabbed hold of his sleeve at the wrist and took him along, the door was still open just a little.

He noticed the locks on the outside and pointed at them, “Why?”

You hated the sight of those. “To lock me inside when they felt like it.”

Stepping inside the room, the little light coming from the small window was pathetic. Lancelot was quick to spot the small lantern beside the door on the dresser, he lighted the candle with the flint beside it and handed you the flint to keep. Lantern in hand, he held it up to look around the room, letting the light fall on the mattress on the floor. He was quiet, but you could sense the many questions running through his head right then.

“They must have taken away my bed after the last time I was here. Possibly part of my punishment for when Aldith would have found me whilst he was still here.” you explained. Then pointed at the floor. “I found my mother’s journal over there, under the floorboards. The Hidden led me to find it.”

He remained eerily quiet, taking the view of the room in slowly. You let him process it and started inspecting your old dresser to see if it still contained your belongings. Your clothes were still there and you started to put them on the dresser to take along.

He turned to you. “Take all you wish to keep. I will make room in Goliath’s saddlebag if need be.”

It was a relief to hear. “Thank you.”

He put the lantern on the dresser and strolled around the room, even in the dim light you could see the disapproval in his eyes, that tense jaw and slight arch to his brow.

You tried to distract him from the depressing surroundings by making light of it, you drew his attention and when he made eye-contact you nodded to what was left of your bed. “I prefer the one in Gramaire, less visits from insects. Better company in general.”

His reaction was quick to silence your attempts to distract him, he send his eyes to the floor unable to hide the shock and disbelief in them.

The atmosphere had taken a sudden shift. “I’m sorry…”

“Don’t.” He was firm. “Do not jest about this to diminish the true atrocities they committed against you, not for my sake or anyone else’s.”

You put down a folded shirt. “I don’t want you to be distraught over this. It’s the past.”

Your past, your burden, he had enough of his own to carry. Besides that, you did not like to see him upset.

“Was it the past when you pushed me away moments ago?” he confronted.

You turned away to focus on taking the clothes out of the dresser again. He was right, you could say it was the past all you wanted but the memories of it weren’t, nor was the pain it had caused. Quietly he came to your side, saying nothing for a moment, as if he regretted speaking of what happened by the painting. He reached out and brushed a hand over your back briefly, then folded his hands together behind his back. A few seconds passed before he stepped behind you and brought his arms around your waist, bringing you into and embrace. You stopped folding and put your hands on his arms, leaning into him more.

He kissed the side of your head. “None of us can free ourselves of the past without some scars to remind us of it.”

He let you free of his embrace and stepped to your side again.

You picked up the stack of clothes. “I’m done here. We should go and see what the others have found so far.”

He took the lantern along, using it to light the way while taking directions from you through the house. You found Red Spear, Arthur, and Hawk in Aldith’s room. They had moved most of the furniture around and were busy moving the large wooden chest in the far corner of the room. Red Spear had noticed a suspicious looking loose plank on the wall behind it, Arthur and Hawk used their swords to move the strangely nailed in plank out of the way. Red Spear got impatient and forced the plank out of the way with her spear, she reached into the small open space and retrieved what had been hidden there, a chest.

She put the chest down on the floor and looked your way. “Do you know where the key is?”

Your tone was neutral, nearly disinterested. “On my father’s corpse if I have to guess.”

Arthur and Lancelot shared a look, Red Spear looked like she was debating on throwing the chest out the window to get it to crack open.

“Shouldn’t she be the one to open it?” Hawk asked his leader.

At first Hawk received a glare, but then Red Spear seemed to agree. She stood up and put the small chest on the bed.

“Y/n.” Red Spear looked at you with expectation.

You approached, taking your dagger from your weapon belt to pry it open. Rather impatiently they all watched on as you tried to pry it open. It didn’t budge, so you stuck the dagger between the gap of the lid, turned the chest over and slammed it hard against the floor on the pommel a few times. The chest unlocked and coins spilled across the floor.

Whilst Red Spear and Hawk picked up the coins, Arthur spotted something different amongst them, he plucked a bracelet up from where it had landed under a few coins. “Are those Fey signs on this?”

Lancelot held out his hand for it and Arthur gave it to him to view, after a few seconds he said, “It’s hers.”

“Yours?” Arthur looked at you.

You shook your head, not recognizing the golden bangle. If it had been yours you would have remembered owning such an intricate piece, a dark gem was placed in the midst of it, engravings of vines ran across it’s surface.

Lancelot held it out for you to take. “Inside the bangle, in the language of our clan, ‘Little Ember’ is engraved on it.”

“What…?” You stared at the piece of jewelry in his hand.

Red Spear saw your reaction. “If she doesn’t want it-”

Lancelot did not let her finish the sentence. “It is hers.”

With shaking hands you took the bracelet, unable to translate the engraving inside for yourself. If he had not told you, you would have never known and the bracelet your mother must have meant to gift you would have been sold off somewhere.

“The stone must be some sort of quartz.” Hawk said. “I’ve found and sold those before. It looks like smoke’s inside of it.”

You put the bracelet on, it sat securely on your wrist. Aldith had hidden this… the only gift you would have gotten from her…

“You don’t have other jewelry?” Hawk blurted out. “No wedding ring?”

Lancelot’s expression changed, the statement had an effect on him

“Doesn’t make her less married.” Arthur said and got an appreciative look from the Ash Man.

“We count them here and now.” Red Spear nodded down at the coins.

“Count?” Hawk questioned.

She gave him a stern look. “Count. All will get their share.”

Hawk was quick to start counting. “Yes, Red Spear.”

You hadn’t thought she would be so honest to make certain all got a fair share, but she was firm on the matter. The coins were counted twice, and she divided the amount equally except for you, you got some more. Some gold, some silver, you stashed them safely into your satchel.

Lancelot had seen the full sack of items in the corner. “What did you find of value?”

Arthur replied, “Some silverware and weapons. Silver candle holders in this room.”

Lancelot saw one sticking out of the sack. “Those are found in monasteries.”

“I bet that’s where my father found them too.” you deadpanned.

Arthur chuckled at the witty remark. Hawk went to pick up the bag. And Red Spear carried that chest of coin like it had just made her year. You tried not to think too much about where Aldith had gotten that coin, what mattered now was that it was in the hands of people who really needed it.

Together you made your way back to the horses, Lancelot borrowed one of the sacks Red Spear’s crew members had with them to put your clothes away, then secured the sack to Goliath’s saddle. He approached you just before you were going to mount the grey mare.

He took your wrist, where the bangle was, he took it off briefly to point at the symbols one by one, explaining what they meant and how their order changed their meaning.

“Do you understand?” he gently asked.

You considered lying, but that wouldn’t help you learn. “Some of it.”

His lips curved and he put the bangle back on your wrist. “You will learn, I’m certain.”

The confidence he had in you was nice to hear. “How could I not with such a dedicated tutor that holds my interest so well?”

Those eyes that held the heavens locked on yours at the blatant flirtation, you loved that small hint of a smirk he had now.

Arthur walked past. “Time to go, Gawain will be waiting.”

Lancelot stepped away to fetch Goliath. You were in charge again to lead the group through the more discreet paths of Ravenwick. Arthur was the one who spotted a group of paladins, drunk and laughing by their horses at a distance. You started to lead the group to another path until you heard Red Spear whisper at Lancelot in irritation.

“Keep moving!” she quietly snapped at him.

He was distracted by the group of paladins, and both Arthur and Red Spear grew vigilant because of it.

“Are you going with them, or with us?” Arthur bluntly asked him.

Lancelot’s eyes snapped to Arthur, visibly angry at the blatant mistrust.

“Enough.” you hissed at them. “Follow me or find your own way out of here!”

That shut them all up, even Red Spear was a little impressed by how effective your harsh tone was on them. The group remained quiet for the rest of the way out of Ravenwick, thankfully so.

Not far outside the city, Gawain and the others were waiting for you.

“Found something worth our time?” Gawain asked.

“Coin.” Red Spear answered. “We’ll divide it when we’ve set up camp for the night.”

“Good.” The knight agreed.

“The sword?” Merlin asked Lancelot.

“Still with me.” he answered, patting the sword attached to the saddle.

Arthur was still mistrusting towards him. “What was that back there? Why did it look like you were going to walk over to the paladins that we saw?”

“I was not!” Lancelot bit back.

Red Spear and Arthur shared a look. Had they seen something you had not? Percival looked so very worried towards the Ash Man, pleading with his eyes for it not to be true.

Lancelot calmed himself. “I was watching them to ensure they had not seen us, that they would not follow us.”

Gawain was short and firm about the matter, “If he had wanted to go back to them, he would not be so courteous to us. In the least some of us would be dead, and the rest he would have given to the Church to regain their favor.”

The knight was able to silence their doubt. After a short briefing between them all, the group resumed their journey into the forest. They kept close to the river, often Gawain looked at the map he had brought along to ensure they were heading in the right direction. The weather was getting colder, a chilly breeze cut through your clothes and you contemplated stopping to retrieve your cloak from Goliath’s saddlebag. But not much later a place in the forest was found to set up camp. Everyone used what little they had to make a place on the grass to sleep, cloaks, blankets, one of Red Spear’s crew had acquired a fancy tablecloth to use. You finally fished the cloak out of the saddlebag and debated on putting it on and sleeping in it, it would be warmer. Percival had tied the reins of his horse to a branch and came your way, you realized he had nothing with him to sleep on and even though he didn’t say so, you could tell that he was cold.

“Here, use my cloak to sleep.” You offered it to him.

The boy didn’t take it. “We could share?”

With a smile you took him by the shoulder and guided him to a tree to rest against. Sitting down against the tree, you draped the cloak over the both of you.

“You alright?” you asked.

He shrugged his shoulders, a clear ‘no’ in your opinion. You nudged him playfully against the arm.

He spoke quietly, “It’s so much.”

That had sounded quite sad. “What is?”

“Everything.” He sank under the cloak further. “There isn’t time for something else.”

You understood that he missed the lack of fun activities amongst all this. Under all that bravery and fortitude was still a child, and in times of war it was often overlooked. You trapped him in an embrace, he didn’t seem to mind and leaned into it, it was a welcome solution against the cold.

You resisted the urge to ruffle that untamed hair. “There will be time, Percival. I promise.”

Red Spear was handing out everyone’s share of coins and to your surprise she offered Percival a share too. The boy could barely believe it when she let those coins fall into his hands like it was nothing, then she walked away.

“Is it really for me?” he looked at you.

You smiled. “Of course it is. Put it in your pockets.”

Percival didn’t have to hear that twice, he stuffed the coins in the pockets of his jacket.

Lancelot approached and sank down against the side of the tree next to Percival. “The weather is colder, but I do not believe it will rain.”

“I hope you’re right.” The chilly breeze was worse enough.

He reached behind him, his arm just long enough to blindly let his hand touch your arm, Percival was oblivious to it happening. You turned to look past your shoulder, discreetly grazing your fingers against Lancelot’s before pulling your hand back.

“Do you think I have enough coin for a sweetroll?” Percival asked.

“No.” Lancelot lied.

You sighed at the twit’s jest. “Yes, you have enough for a sweetroll.”

Percival smiled widely, very pleased with that answer.

Pym almost stumbled over your feet when she walked by. “Sorry. I didn’t see your feet. It’s dark.”

You gave a nod. “It’s alright.”

“Thanks for letting them give everyone coin. You could have kept it a secret and gone to grab that chest for yourself.” she said.

It wouldn’t have felt right to keep it all. “I prefer helping others with it. My father stole from everyone, I do not want to be as greedy as he was.”

She shrugged her shoulders. “I wouldn’t have blamed you for it.”

“Still.”

“I’ll let you sleep.” She turned to Percival. “Goodnight, Squirrel. I’m just over there if you need me.”

Percival was nested comfortably under the cloak. “Goodnight.”

Pym walked off to a tree nearby where she had made her bed for the night. Looking behind you, you noticed the sword on the ground next to Lancelot, the sword, he treated it like any other sword that he could have found in the dirt. It was perhaps best, it meant it was not corrupting him. As the boy slowly fell asleep, you often glanced behind you and around the tree, oddly distracted by having the Ash Man so near yet not near enough. Being in love was a constant rush through your veins that was only calmed by him. It took a while to fall asleep, but once you did the weight of the day pulled you into a deep slumber easily.

    ~~~♡~~~♡~~~◇~~~♡~~~♡~~~

  Gawain was hastily shaking your shoulder to wake you. “You need to wake up. Now.”

The sun struck your eyes and they needed some time to adjust, and when they did you immediately saw the serious expression on the knight’s face. Percival was already up and looked as confused as you were.

“What’s going on?” you asked worried.

Gawain helped you up by the arm. “Lancelot is gone.”

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[mobycotton]

Sneak peek at chapter 10 of “Sunrise in Ealdor, Sunset in Camelot.”

The sky was still black, but void of stars, by the time Arthur woke up, feeling for the first time the benison of a full night of sleep though it might have been only a few hours. But as he brought himself to his elbows on the strange tough bed, he was overcome with motion sickness, and an overwhelming sense of loss and roused him to his surroundings. Through the thin sheet the movements of a house fully awake could already be seen, but his own blurry vision made it impossible to discern exactly what was happening just a few paces away.

Two figures moved silently about the room, lit by a raging fire which failed to warm him better than blind him when he spied at what burned. The light clatter of plates and shuffling of feet were the only sounds aside from the gentle crackling and splitting of wood in the hearth.

He reached for something to stabilise himself and found his hand cold and empty, keeping the space of another under the blanket that lay folded in half over him. The other side of the bed, like his hand, was cold and desolate. He reached over it, with no goal in mind but hope that just knowing he had been there, if only a few hours ago, might lay his fears of the day ahead to rest. It did not.

A long journey was awaiting them, and the very thought of it, as well as the end and the destination, made him want to burrow his limbs back under the blanket and call for the fire to be put out so that he might go back to sleep. Perhaps he could fool time into reversing so he might, in full waking, reclaim every moment he had wasted in sleeping while the two hands lay intertwined between them, and take full score of the peaceful seconds as they scurried from him.

He had allowed his eyes to close with the hoping, but they parted again as he heard someone approaching. Merlin stepped behind the screen. “I thought you were still asleep.”

“I just woke up.”

“Sorry, we tried to be quiet.”

“It’s fine,” he said, pulling the blanket, with its warmth, away and standing beside him, “did you sleep well?”

Merlin nodded, and after hesitating for a moment reached across Arthur. He moved out of the way and saw he was reaching for the blanket he had just pushed away. “We’ll need to pack this.” Arthur blushed to think they had been waiting for him to wake up while he imagine just going back to sleep. “We already had breakfast, but we left you some if. You want to eat while I get the horses.”

“I can get them.”

“No, I will.” Merlin stood awkwardly, then glanced at Hunith through the sheet, and back at Arthur, lowering his voice. “My mother wants to talk to you. She won’t say what it’s about.” He paused, waiting for Arthur to explain, but he said nothin. “Well, just humour her. But I’ll get the horses ready and we can set off. Did… Did you sleep-”

“Yes, very well.”

“Good,” Merlin said, folding the blanket in his hands and stepping back out of the refuge of the sheet, “good.”

How much had he said after losing consciousness? Even as Merlin wrapped his arms around himself Arthur wondered if his lips had been too generous with words after his mind had drifted away in the bower of Merlin’s bed. He had allowed himself to let down his guard, what if that had been the final straw for his heart to carry on without him? Shaking his head, he strained tor member exactly what was exchanged.

“Arthur?” Hunith said, and he realised he had been standing in the centre of the house, frowning, for the last few seconds. “We left you some oats, but I think they might have gotten cold.”

He sat down opposite her, taking the seat Merlin had just left empty. “Thank you,” he said, finally obeying the emptiness of his stomach.

“I have a request, if I may.”

“You’ve housed and fed me the past week, I owe you as much, if not more.”

“It’s a big ask,” she said, and Arthur put down his spoon, to the dismay of his unrelenting hunger.

[brummiereader]

What an incredible chapter Reb 👏😍! This was a rollercoaster of emotions from start to finish and by the end I swear I stopped breathing 😯! Arghhhh REB!! My heart was beating so fast in the last scene, it nearly happened 😩! But Tommy was a true gentleman ❤️.

I loved the flashback between Nina and her cousins, their close relationship is honestly the sweetest thing ever. It's interesting to read Ninas thoughts on the war, that girl is wise beyond her years. And even though you wrote in your notes that Nina was naive as a young teen about certain things she definitely isn't on others, and that's what I love most about her ❤️. And it definitely feels natural and normal for her to be like that in the times they were living. Now for the bastard.....Stefano Stefano Stefano....😡. It all makes sense now. God he's vile, even from a young age he was disgusting. I started to feel really nervous for her in that scene, the way he was luring her in made my skin crawl. Nina may have been a naive young teen but she was smart enough to carry a knife 👏.

Aww Tommy and Nina are still enjoying their late night talks ❤️. There is something so special about this moment they keep aside for eachother every day. They may not be openly saying it but it's almost like a little date 😉. Pietro and Salvatore feel very similar to Tommy and Arthur, I love that mirroring of the brothers. “Yes, I do like horses.” Ahh no, don't get him started 😂, our horse girly one stop once someone asks him about his first love 🤭. "You know, I’ve got horses, I could teach you how to ride one,” he proposed, the words escaping his mouth before he could think about what he was saying. Then he realised, and he paused for a moment. He wouldn’t get to teach her" Reb!!...what are you doing to us😩. I'm rooting for these two so much ❤️.

I remember your little snippet from the next scene! Urghh, I feel a little sorry for her cousin, she can clearly tell Tommy's not really into her, and I wonder if she herself feels anything for him or is just going along with what is expected or her 😬. I think it's fair to say someone else has captured our blue eyed man's attention.

😡😡 arghh!! Throughout the following scene I was fuming, steam coming out my ears kinda fuming. I wanna kill that disgusting pig. I just knew he would be back one day. He's almost made it a mission to get his way with her, it's truly vile. The way he talks to her likes he's oblivious to everything in the past is scary, he's clearly unhinged and has gotten away with his sick crimes for far too long. dark!Stefano can be thrown in with the rest of those dark degenerates 😡. I was just waiting for Tommy to appear and he did!! I do not even want to imagine what would have happened if Tommy had done something to him, he would have started a full on "Godfather" style mob war 😳. I really have a feeling we're not going to see the the end of this. Stefano thinks this is one big game, but I'm hoping he gets a quick reality check (preferably at the end of a gun or knife ) when it comes to messing with a Peaky Blinders 😏.

Reb...these two last scenes 😭❤️!! I actually felt relief when Nina gave in and fell into Tommy's arm's, urgh my heart ❤️. He was so sweet and tender with her, he just wanted to reassure her and let he know she was safe and she let him. The beautiful and I mean BEAUTIFUL scene to follow was absolutely incredible . Well done hun! I really appreciate how you describe Tommy feeling in that moment all the small details you added, touch, feel, smell...you could literally read him falling in love with her getting intoxicated by her, it was stunning. I put my hand up 🖐️, I wanted them to kiss. I've been impatiently waiting for that very moment, but what you did instead was not only so tender but true to how a man would be that not only loves someone but respects them. And Tommy respects Nina ❤️. Tommy got up and walked to the door, ignoring the invisible string that was pulling him in the opposite direction beautiful line hun 😍. I'm so eager to see what will happen after this. Will Nina put her wall back up, taking Tommy's rejection the wrong way or will these two finally admit their feelings for eachother 🤔? I can't wait to find out! Incredible chapter to this amazing series ❤️.

Heart, Body and Soul || Tommy Shelby x OC

PART V

Summary: As they get closer, Tommy and Nina start to realise that their time together is limited. However, an unexpected event makes the tables turn.

Warnings: mentions of arranged marriage, slow-burn, small age-gap (Tommy’s 30, Nina is in her early 20s), time-typical misogyny, mentions of war, mentions of mutilation, this chapter contains triggering themes, such as sexual assault and violence. Read at your own risk.

A/N: I hope this is worth the wait! Useful information: in the first part of this chapter Nina is 17. She’s depicted as naive, maybe a bit too much for a seventeen-year-old, but bear in mind that she grew up in an extremely conservative environment. Also, I wrote all the dialogues in English because it would’ve been too much of a mess to switch between the languages, so keep in mind that whilst the dialogues between Nina and Agnese could be in both languages since they’re bilingual, the ones between Nina and Stefano are technically in Italian. Last, some things from the previous chapters are really important for this one. I do not claim any ownership to the dialogues excerpts taken from the show. English is not my first language.

After this way too long note, I hope you enjoy this chapter☀️

PREVIOUS PART

SERIES MASTERLIST

Gif credit

Dividers credit

1915, five years earlier

“They say Italy might join the war soon.”

It was the first time Nina voiced her concerns. She always had the feeling that if she expressed what was troubling her out loud, it would inevitably, irrevocably become true. But she had been bottling up that fear of hers for weeks now, and it had been growing and growing, consuming her from the inside. The weight of the basket she was carrying was nothing compared to the weight of uncertainty, of not knowing what to expect.

“They say that at your school?” Agnese asked absentmindedly, looking in the windows of the small bakery they always used to stop by when they were children, because they knew the owner would give them freshly baked biscuits for free.

“They say that everywhere,” Nina murmured, kicking a stone with her foot.

Agnese had heard about that possibility, and it scared her as well, but she didn’t fully understand the extent of the seriousness of the situation. No one ever bothered to explain it to her, and every time she asked questions about it, her family would just brush it off. She shouldn’t trouble herself with such nonsense, they said. And although she could ask Nina, she never found the courage to do it, far too ashamed of her own ignorance. Her cousin knew lots of things, talked about serious matters, had opinions that contrasted with everything they had ever been taught, and most of the times Agnese had troubles following the things she said. But she said them with such conviction, such mastery that she couldn’t help but agree with her. And she suspected that the reason why no one ever listened to Nina was because they had troubles following her as well. There was something unsettling in her cleverness.

“I’m worried about my brothers,” Nina admitted. “They’re old enough to be enlisted.”

Agnese shifted her attention back on her cousin, sending her a sympathetic look. “Maybe we won’t enter the war. And even if we do, maybe they won’t have to go. Your father can find a way to-”

“They’re not cowards,” Nina interrupted her with resolution, shaking her head. “The Spinietta brothers are cowards. Pietro and Salvatore are not like them.”

“What do the Spiniettas have to do with it?”

“I heard my father say that if we join the war, Mr. Spinietta already knows who to talk to to make sure his kids are not enlisted. He’ll shake a few hands, make a few threats, and they will be safe and warm in their houses. He might even send them to America, they have relatives there.”

Truth was, Nina wished they’d be sent to America. She wanted them to be as far away as possible from her, from the village. They walked around as if they owned every street, every shop, every person; as if everything was owed to them, because they had money and power. But everybody knew where that money came from. And even though she was aware that her family wasn’t any different, that their own money was mostly blood money, she still believed that her brothers were better than them.

“They’re cowards. Cowards and bastards, that’s what they are,” she gritted her teeth.

“You can’t say things like that,” Agnese hissed with wide eyes, frantically looking around to make sure no one was there to hear her. “Lower your voice.”

“I’m just telling the truth. They’re bastards. Sick bastards. You’ve seen how they’ve dragged that poor girl in their car, last week.”

Nina watched as her cousin pressed her lips together, avoiding her gaze. The episode had left both of them with a bitter taste in their mouths, and a feeling of powerlessness that haunted them still. They didn’t know why they had done what they had done, what they would do to her, but somehow they knew it wouldn’t be anything good. Because despite the kind smiles they were wearing and the false gentleness with which they had guided her into the car, it was clear that they were forcing her. The two cousins heard some girls say that she wasn’t the first, and probably wouldn’t be the last, and that the reason why they targeted her was because she had no father nor brothers.

Everyday since that day, Nina cursed herself for not intervening. Would things have gone differently, if she had said something? Would she have been in trouble as well? What kind of trouble was that girl even in? She didn’t have the answers.

Now she carried a pocket knife with her. If they even tried to get close to her, or to another girl in her presence, she wouldn’t be afraid to use it.

“You still can’t say things like that.”

“It’s not like they can do anything,” Nina shrugged.

There was a delicate balance between the families, assured by mutual fear and by the possibility of a bloodbath that wouldn’t suit anyone. But even that wasn’t enough to guarantee peace, one wrong step was all it would take to disrupt that balance. It was like a bomb waiting to explode.

“I need to buy some thread for my mum,” Agnese changed the subject, stopping in front of a shop. “Wait for me here.”

As her cousin disappeared into the shop, Nina placed the heavy basked on the ground to clench and unclench her sore hand. She slightly rubbed the red marks which were appearing on her palm, wincing at the pulsating sensation. The rev of an engine came to her ears, and before her mind could register what was happening, a car stopped in front of her. Stefano Spinietta stuck his head out of the window and sent her a smile, showing a perfect set of white teeth. “You want a ride home?”

Nina frowned, trying to suppress the feeling of disgust that came over her at the mere sight of his face. “No.” She said firmly, the lump in her throat preventing her from saying anything else. She had always hated how nervous she was when he spoke to her, when he looked at her. He always looked at her as if he wanted something from her. What it was, she could not tell, but it made her feel incredibly uneasy. His handsome features and immaculate manners didn’t fool her.

“Don’t worry, I don’t bite,” he taunted her, getting out of the car. “Let me help you with that.” Stefano reached his hand towards the basket, but before he could take it, Nina pushed it away with her foot. A glimmer of amusement flashed through his eyes, lighting up his face.

Her hand went to her pocket, and she clutched the small knife tightly, the weapon giving her a new found sense of security. She looked right into his eyes, and spoke enunciating each word carefully. “I said no.”

“I just wanna take you home,” Stefano insisted, his stupid smile still plastered on his face. “C’mon, get in the car.” He took ahold of her arm, slightly squeezing it as if he wanted to reassure her.

A wave of uncontrollable rage coursed through Nina, and in a matter of seconds she had him pushed against his car, her blade grazing his throat. Surprise spread across his features as he looked down at her.

“Touch me again,” she said through gritted teeth, “and I’ll cut your throat.”

Silence fell between them as they glared at each other in an unspoken competition, both of them waiting for the other to cave in. Nina forced herself to keep her burning gaze on him, while every muscle in her body urged her to run away. Instead, she didn’t move, head high, hand steady. She wouldn’t bend. She couldn’t bend. Stefano slowly held his hands up in surrender, the shadow of a grin playing at the corners of his mouth. Under her confused look, he slightly leaned forward, causing the blade to pierce his skin, and a trickle of blood seeped from the small wound, red, thick. It ran all the way down to Nina’s hand, and its slimy texture almost made her flinch. Stefano, on the other hand, had regained his composure, as if he was the one in control of the situation, as if he didn’t have a knife pointed at his throat.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed out, staring at her with an indecipherable look in his eyes.

Nina hesitated for a moment, then, with a swift movement, she took a step back and placed the knife back in her pocket, suddenly aware that she had held her breath the whole time. Stefano sent her one last glance, before turning around and going back in his car without saying another word.

As he drove away, she glanced down at the crimson stain on her hand with wide eyes, her heart thumping in her chest. When Agnese walked out of the shop, unaware of what had just happened, she closed her shaking fingers in a fist, and hid her hand into her pocket.

“What’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” her cousin chuckled, looping her arm though hers. “Let’s go home.”

Present day

“I swear to God, I swear to God…she gave me sixpence. She sends me to the shop for margarine, eggs and bread. When I came back…”

“With a top hat and a coconut,” Nina shook her head, a laugh escaping her lips.

“And that was all the money we had for the whole fucking week,” Tommy stopped to lit his cigarette, then he raised his eyebrows, a smirk growing on his face. “And me mum beat me with a fucking frying pan.”

“Why the hell did you buy a top hat and a coconut?”

“‘Cause I thought she deserved it. I thought we all did. And I could never understand,” he hit his hand on the table, a hint of some old anger creeping into his voice, “why people like us only had bread and fucking lard. And I wanted to be different. That’s what I wanted.” Silence fell between them as he took a drag from his cigarette, his gaze getting lost in old memories.

Their late-night chats had become a habit now. The night after the first one, for some reason, Nina went downstairs to make herself a cup of tea, and, for the same unknown reason, Tommy went into the kitchen with a dry throat. Just like every night since then. They stayed up late, sharing thoughts, doubts and memories, whispering them into the night and letting it take them away. Over the past week, Nina had come to realise that there was way more than Tommy let on behind his stoic facade, and she found herself wishing to know more. As for Tommy, he liked hearing her talk. She had something to say, and she wasn’t afraid to say it. It was refreshing, and a nice change from the hordes of people who repeated somebody else’s words like parrots, without fully understanding their meaning.

“And you are different, aren’t you?”

The depth of Nina’s eyes became too much to bear. For the first time, Tommy suddenly felt exposed. It was as if she was reading right into him, as if she had him completely figured out, as if every thought, every fear, every unspoken word was no longer a secret. It scared him.

He cleared his throat, stomping out his cigarette. “I heard your brothers also fought in the war.”

“Yes,” she nodded. “They were at Caporetto.”

Pietro and Salvatore still bore the marks of that defeat, both physical and mental. Pietro, the older one, had almost lost an arm in combat, and even though two years had passed, sometimes it still hurt. But in exchange for the arm, the war took something else away from him. There seemed to be nothing left of his once caring nature, and his innate attention for details had turned into a urge to have everything under control. As for Salvatore, the war had enhanced the restlessness that had always distinguished him. He was angry, easily triggered, spiteful. And now he had a deep scar which crossed the left side of his face, making his expression appear even more grim. However, in Nina’s eyes, Pietro was still the boy who fought for her to keep on going to school, just like Salvatore was still the playful kid who took advantage of their size difference to sweep her off her feet and spin her around. But they were not those kids anymore. A line was drawn between Nina and her brothers, and that line became a breach, and that breach had continued to open up until an abyss yawned beneath their feet.

Nina took a sip from her cup of tea, sensing that it might be time to change the subject. The war was clearly a sore point for both of them, although for different reasons. “Agnese told me you like horses,” she sat up straight in her chair, her gaze lighting up with curiosity.

“Yes, I do like horses.”

“When I was a child I wanted to learn how to ride. I even asked my father to buy me a horse for my birthday,” she reminisced, a small laugh escaping her lips. “My mum threatened to leave for good if he ever dared to come home with a horse.”

“So you didn’t get the horse.”

“I didn’t get the horse.”

“You know, I’ve got horses, I could teach you how to ride one,” he proposed, the words escaping his mouth before he could think about what he was saying. Then he realised, and he paused for a moment. He wouldn’t get to teach her. A faint, bitter smile appeared on his lips. “I mean, when you come to Birmingham to visit your cousin.”

Nina couldn’t explain the strange effect his words had on her, the sharp stab of sadness that hit her right in her chest. She brushed off that feeling, telling herself it was just the thought of not seeing Agnese - her only friend and the only ally she had in that family - to cause it.

But Tommy recognised the stinging sensation that was rising up inside him, a sensation he had already felt before. A sensation he couldn’t admit, not even to himself.

“How are things with Tommy?” Nina casually asked her cousin, struggling to hang a bedsheet on the clothesline to dry in the shared backyard.

A sly smile flickered on Agnese’s face as she glanced at the black-haired girl, keeping on folding the dry clothes. “You call him Tommy now?”

Her question made Nina’s movements come to a stop. She shut her eyes for a moment, cursing herself for letting the man’s name slip out of her mouth. She hadn’t told anyone about how she and Tommy were on better terms, about the frequent conversations that had brought them to that point. She had been extra careful not to show the slightest hint of friendliness towards him in public, for she knew people would talk. She couldn’t risk Agnese getting the wrong idea. “Only when he isn’t around,” she murmured, starting to hang the laundry again.

That wasn’t too far away from the truth, though. Although Tommy did call her by her first name, she didn’t remember ever doing the same with him. She didn’t call him Mr Shelby anymore, either. She just didn’t address him. For some reason, calling him by his name seemed too personal. It felt like crossing a line that was not supposed to be crossed.

“I almost thought you were starting to approve of him,” Agnese joked, letting out a small giggle.

Nina forced a laugh, shaking her head, and a sense of guilt rose inside her. She told herself it was just an innocent, white lie; those secret conversations didn’t mean anything. It wasn’t even a lie, just an omission of truth. A justified omission of truth.

Then why did she feel so bad?

Agnese fiddled with the necklace Tommy had given her, pondering her words. “He doesn’t seem to be…taken with me,” she revealed, a glimpse of worry shining in her green irises. “Don’t get me wrong, he’s a gentleman, and he’s been nothing but polite to me, but… I don’t think he likes me.”

“Agnese, are you joking?” Nina hung the last shirt, before turning towards her cousin. It pained her to see her like that. She was the most beautiful person she knew, inside and out, and she didn’t deserve anything less than being happy. “I’m sure he does. How couldn’t he?”

“What if he doesn’t love me?”

“Love will come with time,” Nina walked up to her to take her hands in hers with a reassuring smile. “Everything will turn out for the best. You have to believe that.”

She felt relieved as Agnese nodded, worry starting to fade from her expression. Truth be told, even Nina didn’t fully believe her own words. She couldn’t be sure that Tommy would grow to love her cousin, nor that they would have a happy marriage; she couldn’t be sure that the war that would follow with Sabini would end well for them. But she said what Agnese needed to hear, because she didn’t have the heart to to make her fears seem even more real.

“Thank you, Nina.” Agnese whispered, wrapping her arms around her. When Nina awkwardly returned the embrace, patting her on the back, her cousin couldn’t hold back a chuckle. It was no secret that Nina wasn’t big on physical affection, but for a few selected people - that she didn’t have the courage to push away - she brought herself to tolerate it. At least she tried.

“I need to help my mum with lunch,” the brown-haired girl said, breaking the hug to grab the basket full of dry clothes. “She’ll have my head if I don’t.”

“You’d better go, then.”

As Agnese walked back to her house, Nina finished hanging the laundry, humming a little song to herself. She tried to keep her mind busy with futile thoughts, like what Winston might be doing in that moment, what she would eat for lunch, which book she would start to read after finishing the one she was currently reading. She thought about anything and everything in order to keep her mind off Tommy, Agnese and their departure, off her father and what he had told her that day in his study, off the uncertainty about how her life would turn out. It was a nice day, and she didn’t want to plague herself with such worries. However, in the back of her mind, all of that was still present, poisoning even the nicest of thoughts.

When she turned around, the figure of a man leaning against the wall of the house made her flinch. Stefano Spinietta was standing there in silence, observing her, and she had to fight the urge to ask him how long he had been staring at her. “What are you doing here?” She frowned, collecting herself.

“Business meeting. Your father gave me permission to spend some time with you, while he talks with mine,” he explained, pushing himself away from the wall.

A scowl formed on Nina’s face, and a new wave of irritation ran through her, this time directed at her father. All that speech about him wanting her to make the decision for herself was, indeed, just speech. Words he had said to keep her nice and quiet as he indirectly pushed her down the path he had charted for her. “What makes you think I want to spend time with you?”

Stefano’s lips curled in his ever-present grin, as if he found great amusement in her reactions. But that was exactly the point, to some extent. It had become a game to him, some sort of dark, twisted game. The more she rejected him, the more stubborn he became. Something that had started years ago as a mere interest, had slowly taken a different turn. He wanted her, he had been wanting her since she had drawn a knife at his throat. She was carved under his skin just like the scar her blade had left on his neck. There was something about her. Maybe it was her defiance, her refusal to bend, to mould herself into what she should be. He could make her. He could smother the flames of her fierceness and turn her into a quiet pretty thing. “Why do you always have to be so hostile?” He asked her, squinting his eyes.

His question made Nina’s annoyance grow even more. As if he had no clue of how much he had pestered her all those years. Now he had the courage to act all innocent, to play the part of the nice, polite guy who was just courting a girl he liked. He might’ve fooled everyone with that act, but he had never fooled her. “You asked my father his blessing to marry me.” She snapped, taking some steps in his direction. “Did you really think he’d say yes?”

“He never said no.”

“I did.”

Silence fell between them as they stared at each other, once again refusing to be the first to cave in. But this time it didn’t take Nina any effort to keep her eyes on him. She wasn’t a naive seventeen-year-old anymore. Now she knew what it was that he wanted from her. And his gaze didn’t intimidate her anymore.

“Listen to me, Stefano, and listen to me carefully, because I’m not going to repeat myself,” she said in a low voice, coming even closer to him. “You disgust me. You and all your kind,” she spelled out, making sure to emphasise each word. “And I’d much rather jump in front of a train than marrying you.”

Stefano didn’t say anything, at first. He just clenched his jaw, and his hands balled into fists by his side. Then he broke into a half-smile, one that didn’t reach his eyes, trying not to let his wounded ego show. “I’ve been nice to you, and yet you keep on insulting me.”

This time it was him who got closer, towering over Nina. His eyes darkened, and he looked at her with such contempt that for a moment she had the impression he might hit her. With a quick, sudden movement, he grasped her jaw, and before she had the time to react, he turned to push her against the wall. She looked up at him, trying not to show an ounce of fear as her heart increased its speed.

“My patience has limits. And you shouldn’t forget who you’re talking to,” Stefano gritted out through clenched teeth, digging his fingers in her cheeks. His whole body shook with anger, and the mask of politeness he always hid behind began to fall apart. “You’re playing with fire.”

The same uncontrollable rage that years ago gave Nina the courage to point a knife at him now gave her the strength to stomp on his foot, making him hiss and take a step back. Taking advantage of his distraction, she darted forward, but as soon as he tried to escape, Stefano forcefully slammed her against the wall again, holding her in place by the throat. A sharp sting of pain flashed through her spine at the impact with the cold surface, and a whimper escaped her lips as the air was knocked out of her lungs. Fury flared in Stefano’s dark eyes, but then something changed in his expression. His pupils dilated, and he seemed to lose any kind of control over his actions as his hand left her throat to slowly wander down her body.

An overwhelming sense of panic started to rise inside Nina. She wriggled, trying to free herself from his grasp. “Stop,” she raised her voice, but Stefano promptly covered her mouth with the other hand, pressing his body against hers. She squeezed her eyelids shut when his hand became more insistent, squeezing her small breast in a painful hold, then travelling down to her hipbone to keep her still with bruising force. His hot breath burned on her skin as he leaned over her, bringing his face closer to hers. Nina tried to turn her head in response, but the hand he still had on her mouth wouldn’t allow it. She emitted a muffled sound, bringing her hands to his chest to push him away, but he was too strong, and twice her size. All her desperate efforts to put some space between them were useless. He was a rabid animal, a wild beast devoid of any rational thinking as he ground against her, trying to slide his filthy hand under her skirt. Nina’s face scrunched in disgust, and her whole body stiffened under this touch. A whirlwind of thoughts swirled around in her head, endless, confusing, as if she couldn’t exactly register what was happening.

Then he stopped. Much to Nina’s surprise, Stefano suddenly seemed to come to himself, and he took his hand off her mouth. But there wasn’t a hint of guilt, or regret, in his eyes. On the contrary, he looked almost satisfied. And then she realised. He had been in command of his actions the whole time. “What, you don’t talk anymore?” He asked provocatively.

Nina’s wide eyes rested on Stefano in shock. The lump in her throat kept on growing and growing, making it impossible for her to utter a single sentence. She swallowed, trying to regain some kind of control over her emotions, to force herself to speak, and when she did, she faked a confident tone. However, the trembling in her voice betrayed her fear. “Once my family hears about this, you’ll-”

“I didn’t do anything you didn’t want, love,” he interrupted her, furrowing his brows, his face assuming a perplexed expression.

“What…” she batted her eyelashes in confusion, her voice barely above a whisper. “No, I didn’t...” the words died in her throat as the awareness of his implications started to set in.

Stefano leaned in, bringing his hand to her cheek to caress it with fake tenderness, and a terrible smile made its way on his face. “Who do you think they’ll believe?”

Nina shook her head, a feeling of helplessness she had never felt before taking over her. She just wanted him to leave. She wanted him to take his hands off of her. She wanted to kick him, to scream at him, to dig her nails in his face deeply enough to make him bleed, and yet all she could do was look at him in silence.

But then someone must’ve heard her prayers, because Stefano was abruptly pulled away from her. It was as if some kind of supernatural gust of wind had ripped him away from her body, freeing her from the heavy weight that had her pressed against the stone surface. Except that it wasn’t some supernatural force. The person who had grabbed Stefano by the collar of his shirt was very much human.

“The fuck are you doing?” Tommy growled, his knuckles turning white from the tight grip he had on the man. Stefano, not understanding a word he had said, just raised his hands, as if to show that he meant no harm.

Tommy had recognised the guy. He was the one they had met two weeks ago in the city, the one who had given him a bad feeling as soon as they had met. He couldn’t explain the pure rage he had felt when he caught him holding Nina against a wall. Her scared, helpless expression was all it took for him to see red and launch at the Italian man. The thought of what could’ve happened if the meeting with the Ferrantes and the Spiniettas had finished just a bit too late made his skin crawl. Still holding him by the collar, Tommy raised his fist, driven by the sudden urge to break his nose, but before he could land the blow, Nina’s voice stopped him.

“Don’t!” She exclaimed, causing him to look in her direction. “He’s Spinietta’s son,” she frantically explained, getting a bit closer, but still keeping herself at safe distance.

Tommy shifted his eyes on the Italian man again, his fist still in the air, and pondered for a few seconds. Although Stefano couldn’t understand Nina’s words, he probably had a vague idea of what she had said, because the corners of his lips tugged upwards as he stared at Tommy steadily. Nina held her breath, her heart skipping a beat at the Italian’s implicit provocation. Tommy was really close to doing something that might put him in a dangerous situation, and it seemed like Stefano was doing everything in his power to encourage him. It was part of his fun, of his sick little game.

Feeling his hands itch even more, Tommy charged again, nostrils flaring, almost letting his impulse win. Fuck Spinietta, he thought to himself. But he was not in Small Heath. Begrudgingly, he lowered his hand and let the guy go with a violent push, making him stumble backwards. “Fuck off,” he snarled, pointing towards the path that led to the main garden to get his message across.

Nina sighed in relief, and she wasn’t sure whether it was because Tommy had made the right choice, or because that situation was over. Stefano took the time to straighten his shirt with unsettling composure. Without saying another word and keeping on watching them, he walked past them, his wicked eyes shining with amusement.

The adrenaline started to wear off, leaving Nina in a growing state of dizziness. The panic, the disgust, the anger. All of that became a single, indistinct mass aiming to engulf her and suffocate her. Her ears started to ring, and she had to fight the instinct to cover them and scream at the top of her lungs.

“Are you alright?” Tommy’s voice came to her ears, snapping her out of her trance.

“Yes.” She nodded, blinking a few times. Now aware of her surroundings, she felt as if she was re-entering her body after rising out of it, and the reality of what had happened was crashing on her. Bile raised in her throat, and she knew that if she had had something in her stomach, she would’ve thrown up. “Yes I’m alright.”

“Nina, you’re shaking,” Tommy noted with a hint of worry in his voice, his own heart still racing in his chest.

“No, no I’m fine,” she insisted, turning her face to hide the tears welling up in her eyes. She tightly crossed her arms over her chest, hoping that her hands would stop trembling. “It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine.” He shook his head, tentatively reaching out to hear. He was approaching her slowly, almost with apprehension, with his palm open, like one would do with a scared stray cat. “Come here.”

Nina hesitated for a while, torn between what she needed and what she was supposed to do, instinct and reason endlessly fighting. For once, she chose to act without thinking. Cautiously, she pulled Tommy into a hug, resting her head against his chest. Hit by an implacable wave of tenderness, he gently wrapped his arms around her, placing his chin on the top of her head. It didn’t make sense, but having her safe in his arms brought him a sense of calmness and security, and his tense body began to relax.

The warmth of his body, his scent, the reassuring sound of his heartbeat, the unfamiliar softness he was showing her; the combination between all of that gave life to a feeling Nina had never felt before, and she couldn’t put a name to it. Between all of that, she was relieved by the awareness that, at least for that moment, she didn’t need to be strong. Tears began to spill out, and her facade fell for the first time.

When a suffocated sob escaped her lips, shaking her slender shoulders, Tommy’s heart painfully clenched in his chest. His hand found the back of her head, and he started to soothingly run his fingers through her soft dark hair. He wanted to say something, but he knew that there was nothing he could say that would make it better. So he held her tighter, as if he could shield her from harm with the sole strength of his arms.

“Breathe, love,” he whispered when he noticed that, in an attempt to hold back her sobs, she had tensed up a bit too much. “Breathe.”

Nina took a deep breath, focusing on Tommy’s deep voice and the delicate motion of his fingers through her hair.

“There you go,” he murmured encouragingly, feeling her calm down against him. She sniffled, snuggling even closer, and, once again, Tommy was overwhelmed by the need to protect her.

They couldn’t care less if someone saw them. In that moment, their embrace was the only thing that mattered.

Laying on her side with her knees drawn up, Nina stared at the shadows created by the small lamp on her bedside table. She could still feel the heaviness of Stefano’s hands on her, the burning of his hot breath on her skin, the suffocating smell of his cologne. She only wanted to get rid of those hands, that breath, that smell. She would gladly rip off her whole skin if it meant to forget.

She hated herself for allowing him to make her feel small, weak, for he had made it quite clear that was what he wanted. Because even though for a moment he had indulged in the temptation, he wouldn’t actually dare go through with it, not in her house. His purpose was to show her that he could overpower her at any time.

But then came feeling of being wrapped in Tommy’s arms, of being pressed against his strong frame, the feeling she had been desperately trying to give a name to. Until it occurred to her. Safe. She had felt safe.

A soft knock on the door of her bedroom pulled her out of the vortex of thoughts. She sat up on the bed, crossing her legs beneath her. “Come in,” she said, but her voice was so feeble that she doubted the person on the other side had heard her. Still, the door opened, and in the dim, warm light, Tommy’s figure appeared on the doorstep.

He had never been in her room, but somehow it was exactly like he had imagined it. Ivory-coloured walls covered in a pattern of small flowers, dark wooden furniture, lace curtains. Handwritten sheets of paper scattered all over the desk, along with pens and pencils. It was bit messy and full of books, and it smelled like her. A mixture of lavender and honey.

When that night Tommy had come out of his room, the first thing he noticed was the unsettling silence. No rattle of pots coming from downstairs. But a half-light shone through Nina’s bedroom door, and he found himself desperately needing to know how she was. She had been avoiding everyone the whole day.

“I just wanted to check up on you,” his deep voice came out in a low sound, and it held some kind of uncertainty. He wasn’t sure that going to her had been a good idea. Maybe she didn’t want to see him, maybe knocking on her door was too much.

His doubts faded when the ghost of a smile formed on her face, and she motioned for him to come in. He carefully closed the door behind him, then went to sit on the edge of the bed, keeping his distance. A vice-like grip held his stomach when he noticed her puffy eyes and red cheeks. How many times had she cried?

“You’re paler than usual,” Nina teased him to ease the tension, but her voice didn’t hold the bantering tone he had grown used to hear. “You should get some sleep.”

Tommy half-smiled, shifting his gaze on the floor for a moment. But instead of spitting out a retort - contrary to Nina’s expectations - he just nodded. “You’re right,” he conceded.

A sigh escaped Nina’s lips, and she nervously fiddled with her own fingers. He was walking on eggshells, and she didn’t like it, not even a bit. “Please, stop treating me like that.”

“Like what?” He furrowed, looking at her again.

“Like I might break at any moment.”

Tommy said nothing. He could see why she didn’t want to be treated any differently, but she did look like she would break. Not once had she shown a single shred of vulnerability until that day, and it was disarming. Truth was, he didn’t know how to act.

“I’ll forget it ever happened,” she spoke again, this time with resolution, but she didn’t sound fully convinced of what she was saying. “And you should do the same. No one can know about it.”

“You should tell-”

“No,” she firmly interrupted him, Stefano’s veiled threat still echoing in her ears. “I can’t,” she continued, her voice becoming softer.

Tommy suddenly remembered what she told him a week earlier at the beach, and everything became clear. It was all it took to make his blood boil again. The room went quiet, but the silence was soon broken by a faint rustle of sheets, as Nina left her spot to sit closer to him. Honey and lavender filled his nostrils, and he had to restrain himself from inhaling deeply, eager to feel more. More than the light brushing of their arms, separated by the thin fabric of his undershirt. They were barely touching, and yet his skin burned. As hard as he tried to suffocate that feeling, to extinguish that fire, the flames kept on flaring, higher than before. He couldn’t fight it. She placed a hand on his shoulder, and that feather-like contact was enough to send sparks of electricity through his body. “Promise me,” she whispered, “you won’t tell anyone.”

Tommy turned to look at her, and the proximity allowed him to spot a small scratch on her cheek. Without thinking, he delicately ran his finger on it, and he was almost surprised by the feeling of her soft skin under his rough hand. Slowly, even hesitantly, his hand went to cup the side of her face, and he gently rubbed his thumb along her cheek. “I promise.”

Tommy’s hoarse voice, along with the warmth of his hand, sent shivers down Nina’s spine, and her pulse started to race. She couldn’t explain how the closeness of his strong body was making her feel, nor the effect his masculine scent had on her. Aftershave, cigarettes, and a hint of musk. And she couldn’t help but wonder: if she pressed further into him, if she let herself be held by him again, would it lift the weight off her chest? Would it take away the pain, the revulsion, the shame? Would his touch be enough to replace Stefano’s hands?

When he felt Nina unconsciously get closer, Tommy closed his eyes, drowning in her scent, and he could swear there was fire running through his veins. It was as if some unknown force was pulling him towards her, drawing him nearer, and when her soft lips brushed against his, his mind went blank. Every cell in his body was begging him to give in.

No. It wasn’t right.

Nina was vulnerable, too vulnerable, and probably unable to make any conscious decisions. He couldn’t take advantage of her like that. It took all his strength to move away and bring her in to press a kiss on her forehead instead. He lingered there for a few seconds, savouring the moment. When he let his hand fall from her face, the warmth left him, and it seemed to him that his fingers had sharply gotten cold.

Feeling her confused eyes following him, Tommy got up and walked to the door, ignoring the invisible string that was pulling him in the opposite direction. He couldn’t stay in that room any longer. If he did, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to restrain himself.

“Goodnight, Nina.”

Tag list: @iamngoclinh08 @lilywinchesterlove @fandom-puff @capitanostella @caelys @lucillethings @peakyxtommy @queenofkings1212 @lyarr24 @kmc1989 @call-sign-shark @jomarch-wannabe

Heart, Body and Soul tag list: list: @zablife @queenofshinigamis @raincoffeeandfandoms @call-sign-shark @kmc1989 @babayaga67 @kmhappybunny240 @diorrfairy @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @gaslysainz @brummiereader

Tommy Shelby tag list: @50svibes

[magicinavalon]

Hellooo! 2 and 17 for the tea and book asks? 💜

Hello my dear, and thank you for the ask! 🥰❤ I hope your day is going well.

2. Who is your favourite fictional character and why? ☕️

My favourite fictional character is Arthur Pendragon. His entire role in bbc merlin and the growth he goes through is truly unmatched by any other fictional character for me. Yes, he has flaws, but so do we all. His character is so, perfectly human, and I love that about him. He's supposed to be this epic hero, and he is, but he is just as lost and scared and flawed as the rest of us. All Arthur wants is to make the people he loves (and his kingdom) proud, but the way he was brought up doesn't allow for that right away. He makes numerous mistakes, and sometimes he learns from them, but sometimes he doesn't; I think this adds a lot to his story.

There are so many layers to his character at any given point in the show. At the peak of his growth, he finally becomes the leader he was meant to be and it is beautiful to watch, but he is still human. Still flawed. Still a little lost, and he never really loses that, he just learns to live with it. He has this giant heart hidden under his prattliness despite his upbringing and numerous betrayals. Then he's ripped away in this tragic ending that we know is coming for the entire length of the show, but it hits so hard anyway for all of these reasons and more. I just love him so much. His story. His character. All of it. (Oops sorry for the essay 😅 💕)

17. Who is your favourite author? 📚

Madeline Miller. Her descriptive language makes me feel like I'm reading poetry within a story. I read Circe before Tsoa and the way she describes nature and people and everything from a Goddess's perspective in Circe is breathtaking. I can only hope to write half as well as she does someday. Also Tsoa is epic on top of that!

Thanks again for the ask @queerofthedagger!! 💜💜💜

[meganlpie]

20 Questions

Based on this request: Can you do a Ketch x Reader where they are stuck in a room during a hunt and they can’t get out so they play 20 questions to get to know each other better and in the end confess their feelings for each other

Here you are, lovelies! *I do not own ANY SPN characters. They belong to the writers/creators of the show.*

Warnings: Trapped Together, fluff-ish?

Pairings: Arthur Ketch x reader

It was a good thing you didn't hate Ketch. Really it was. Because if you'd hated him, he wouldn't survive the night. He was driving you batty, pacing like a caged tiger. You understood why. You didn't much appreciate being trapped either, but it was that or become a monster's plaything. At least you'd been able to get into a place where you could ward against everything and the horde of demons couldn't get in.

"Ketch! Please just sit down, you're driving me nuts!" He paused long enough to glare at you before resuming his pacing. He didn't like being stuck in one space for too long. That much was obvious. Not to mention you were both exhausted from the hunt followed by the demon chase. They'd come out of nowhere after the two of you had taken out a vampire nest.

"Please. I know you're anxious to get out of here, but could you please settle down? We're safe in here for now and I called the boys. They're sending Jody and Donna to come help us." Ketch hummed before finally sitting in the only other chair in the room. It was then that you noticed the injury to his arm. "Were you bitten?" He shook his head. "No. That was from one of the demons." You hummed in response and then it got quiet again. Normally that didn't bother you, but stuck in one tiny room, the silence was almost stifling.

"Alright, rather than sitting here doing nothing, I think we should get to know each other better. If we're going to be hunting together more often, we may as well." Ketch's eyes flickered over to you for a moment before he asked, "What did you have in mind?" You felt a smile stretch over your lips. At least he was willing. You were certain you were going to have to practically pull teeth to get him to talk. From what you'd seen, Ketch was a pretty closed off man. Not that you blamed him after what he'd gone through.

"20 Questions. It's the easiest way I can think of." Ketch nodded once, his eyes regarding you as you shifted to try and get more comfortable. "Are you going to sit or stand there all night?" He arched a brow at your teasing tone. "Is that one of your questions? I must say, I expected more from you." You rolled your eyes and gave a sarcastic laugh. "Haha. Jokes. Who knew you had it in you? Now rules: once the game starts it doesn't stop until we've both asked 20 questions. The questions can be anything from the most simple to the most deep that require thought. And we must answer truthfully. Ready?" At Ketch's nod, you proceeded to start the game.

"I'll start with a basic question. Favorite color?" A small smirk made its way onto Ketch's lips as he shook his head at you. "Purple." You let out a small noise of surprise. "I would have suspected red or black." It was Ketch's turn to roll his eyes as he replied, "Purple is the color of royalty, darling. Now, I believe it's my turn. What would you be doing if you weren't a hunter?" You laughed lightly and had a feeling it was going to be a long night.

*time skip*

You and Ketch had spent what felt like hours asking questions back and forth. Not that you minded. It was nice getting an inside look into his mind. Although, your heart hurt for all the torture he'd gone through as a child and into his adulthood. By the time you got to the last round of questions, you wanted nothing more than to wrap the man up in a hug. Unfortunately, you were also at your last question.

You glance up into Ketch's eyes and asked the question you'd been avoiding. You weren't sure how he'd react in all honesty, but you were running out of questions at the moment. "Have you ever been in love?" Ketch's small smile faltered a bit. His brows lowered over his eyes as he tried to think. His gaze flickered over to you then back toward the door. For a moment, it didn't look like he was going to answer the question.

"Perhaps." It was your turn to look confused, prompting him to sigh. "Love is considered a…weakness in Kendrick's. It isn't something encouraged. That being said, I am uncertain as to what love feels like. It is possible I've been in love without realizing." His eyes met your again and you swore they were boring into your soul. You swallowed thickly, suddenly feeling the air in the room thicken with the tension he was causing.

"My last question then, is it?" he asked suddenly. The moment between you was broken in an instant. You nodded. You honestly thought you were going to get whiplash at the pace he changed the subject. Ketch stood and placed one hand in his pocket. You'd been around him long enough to know he only did that when he was grabbing a weapon or feeling unsure of himself. No one else had noticed it. They just thought it was a normal mannerism of his.

His eyes met yours again and he asked, "Do you think, after all I've done for the old men, that someone could love me? Help me have the happiness everyone around me seems to desire so much…Could you?" You blinked in surprise. That was not the question you were expecting. Ketch was very, very good at masking his feelings. There were rarely any signs of vulnerability in the man, though you were able to catch them here and there. Your mind was in a state of confusion so you said the first thing you could think of.

"That's two questions." Ketch scoffed lightly, but looked away from you. Even from his profile you could tell he was upset. You rose from your seat and closed the space between you. He turned his head so he could look at you once more. Without taking your eyes off his, you gently took the hand that wasn't in his pocket in your hand. "Truth?" you asked and he nodded. "Those were the rules after all, were they not?"

"I do. I know someone could love you. Someone doeslove you, Ke-Arthur." The only sign that Ketch was caught off guard was the slight tightening of his hand around yours. "Really?" he asked, disbelief lacing his voice. You never heard him sound so insecure before. It was odd. Still, you smiled. "Really." Your free hand moved up to cup his cheek.

You felt your heart hammering in your chest as a smirk replaced his look of disbelief. "I thought so. The sentiment is returned, darling." You wanted to be mad at him. He'd gotten you to admit something that you were petrified to admit. Still, with him so close, it was hard to think about anything other than having him as close as possible.

Just as Ketch's lips were about to meet yours, the doors burst open. The two of you sprang apart like two teenagers being caught making out on the parent's couch. "Oh, um…carry on," Donna's voice came from the doorway. She ushered Jody out, saying, "Nothing to see here, Jody. Move along." You felt your face heat up as Ketch let out a laugh, prompting you to do the same. You knew you'd never hear the end of this from Jody. Ketch took your hand again, placing a kiss to the back of it, before leading you out to the car.

(a/n: I hope you liked it!)

Forever Tags: @fizzyxcustard @brewsthespirit-blog @sirkekselord @aikibriarrose @lady-of-lies @esoltis280 @stories-by-shanna-p @motleymoose @dark-angel-is-back

SPN Tags: @jotink78

[ttuesday]

May i please request how the S/O takes care of their VDL boy after a long or particularly rough day? Those boys work so hard they deserve a break 😩

why of course anon, in fairness those fellers work very hard... most of the time

Arthur

Arthur has a lot of rough days. It’s pretty obvious he’s the camp’s workhorse so he’s always sent to do little jobs. He’s a busy man and often spends the whole day away from camp.

When you see him hitching up his horse and trudging into camp, you can tell that today’s been particularly hard on him. It looks like he’s been in a few fights and that he hasn’t gotten a moment’s rest all day.

Normally his back is sore after the long day and from carrying the whole gang so Arthur always appreciates a back massage. And he can’t help but groan when you get that spot by his shoulders.

Your massages are guaranteed to make him feel more relaxed and usually he sleeps better after one too. As he drifts off to sleep, Arthur kisses your temple and mumbles “I don’t know what I’d do without you”.

Charles

Charles had been doing a lot lately. Not only was he continuing to do jobs for the gang, now he was helping the people in Wapiti too.

Charles doesn’t like to complain and he just gets on with his work but you knew it was becoming overwhelming for him.

There’s only one thing that can make Charles relax after a long day and that’s your touch. His heart melts as you cuddle him.

He rests his head on your chest and you play with his hair. Charles has his arms wrapped around you as he tells you about his day, feeling all the stress float away.

Dutch

When Dutch has a rough day, he gets moody. He usually makes little remarks about people not doing enough around camp so everyone knows he’s in a bad mood.

Dutch doesn’t mean to act annoyed and he doesn’t mean to push you away but it’s what he does when life gets tough. He likes to grumpily read his book or listen to some classical music instead of talking about his problems.

The best thing you can do is give him the reassurance he craves. Dutch needs to be reminded that everything’s gonna work out... hopefully.

Cuddles help too. He’s not really in the talking mood but he does want you to stay with him and run your hand up and down his back as you whisper words of encouragement and assurance to him.

Micah

Micah doesn’t like to talk about his emotions or what kinda day he’s had or how he feels about it. All his life he’s never met anyone that gave a shit about him so he’s not used to opening up.

Micah stays away from camp when he’s had a bad day, he doesn’t like having so many people near him when he’s feeling drained.

He stays quiet as you walk over to him. You can tell he’s both mentally and physically exhausted from the look in his eyes and so you pull him in for a firm yet soft hug.

Affection always makes Micah feel special and loved so kisses and cuddles is the perfect solution. And if he has any trouble sleeping, just scratch his head. I’m convinced he’d be asleep in under two minutes if you did that and maybe twirled his hair around your fingers too.

John

It’s very easy to tell when John’s had a rough day. He practically walks around camp with a pout on his face and he might go have a sulk too by the outskirts of camp.

He says he’s fine but even Blind Man Cassidy would be able to see he’s had a bad day. It takes him a while to talk about it but once you give him some attention, John starts to tell you about his day.

Honestly all John wants is some attention. He sees it as a little reminder that you care about him and no matter what his mood is, when you start asking him questions it makes John smile.

Before the day is over, John pulls you in for a hug and kisses the top of your head. He mumbles a ‘thank you’ and leaves it at that. John doesn’t like to dwell on his bad days but he still wants you to know hoe much he appreciates you being there for him.

Javier

Javier knows that relationships work through communication so when he has a rough day, he tells you about it.

It’s nice to have someone he can vent to and honestly that’s all Javier needs to feel a bit better. It’s a big believer in being as open and honest with you as possible.

He knows it’s not your job to make him feel better so if you do anything to try and cheer him up, he feels honoured. Just giving him a simple hug will make him swoon with love.

He adores how much you care about him, he’s never met someone who’s so caring and is willing to be there for him. It’s enough to make him fall in love with you all over again.

Bill

When Bill has a bad day, this man is the literal definition of grumpy. He picks fights with people and argues with absolutely anyone within a 10 metre radius of him. He’d probably try to start a fight with Jack too.

He tries to brush it off when you ask him why he’s so riled up and Bill says he’s fine. Bill’s still a little scared to be vulnerable with you so it’ll take a while for him to put down his guard and accept your help.

If you give him a hug and remind him just how much you love and care about him, all that grumpiness fades and Bill finally opens. up.

Bill’s never really felt accepted before so for you to make sure he knows that you love him for who he is, honestly there’s a high possibility he’ll cry and make up some shit excuse like saying his eyes are just ‘sweating’.

Hosea

Hosea’s had a lot of bad days in his time but they never really get easier to deal with. He knows that you have a lot going on too and he doesn’t want to bother you with his woes.

When you do ask him how he is, Hosea responses with vague answers and that’s when you know somethings wrong.

He’s honest with you when you press him for more answers but he assures you that he’s just feeling down. Hosea’s tough but eventually he cracks and leave you take care of him.

He loves it when you run your fingers through his hair and softly ramble to him about anything and everything. Listening to you talking about your day makes him relax and soon he forgets about his bad day.

[existentialcrisisallthetime]

Not sure if you're looking for a serious answer or just throwing a thought into the void, but i did end up thinking about this for a bit.

(elaboration under the cut)

It depends on when exactly kilgharrah dies. As annoying as the old lizard is with his riddles and personal agenda that leads to arthur (and merlin's) downfall, he does save them both several times throughout the show, through knowledge or literally torching their enemies (see 4x12).

Considering most of the advice that led directly to Arthur's death (concerning mordred & morgana) was given before Merlin freed him, we can assume that if kilgharrah died after his release, Arthur would likely face the same fate because Merlin would already have heard the dragon's warnings and be plagued by them.

However, depending on when exactly kilgharrah dies, somewhere between S3 & S5, Merlin may or may not be swayed otherwise without his influence. Maybe Merlin tries to talk to morgana in s3 and succeeds in convincing her not to turn on arthur. Maybe he befriends mordred and gives a different answer to the disir. (then again, maybe not, considering that particular decision was based off the vision in 5x01 and not actually kilgharrah's advice, although the warning probably confirmed merlin's doubts towards mordred.)

On the other hand, let's say kilgharrah dies before he's released. Maybe he didn't get the chance to sow doubt towards morgana in merlin's mind. Chances are, Merlin would actually try talking to morgana at the end of 2x11 and wouldn't resort to poisoning her like he did.

No poison = no betrayal = decreased likelihood of morgana turning against camelot. (i'm not eliminating the possibility bc A. she still has to contend with having magic in camelot, which puts her in direct opposition of uther and arthur; and B. she gets pretty pissed when she finds out her parentage, which i personally think is the catalyst for her shifting her focus from the fight for magic users to her desire for the crown, but that's a whole separate thing). No vengeful morgana = no battle of camlann = Arthur lives. (Assuming we're just following the set path of fate for all of this.)

I also think it's worth mentioning that if Kilgharrah had died pre S2 finale, merlin never would have realized his dragonlord heritage/gained his powers, and therefore would never have hatched aithusa, who unintentionally played a major role in arthur's death.

Like, the whole reason Merlin failed to heal him was bc he was stabbed w/ a sword forged in dragon's breath, so even if arthur still ended up getting stabbed at camlann, merlin probably would have been able to save him.

All this to say, the timeline would've gotten pretty messed up if kilgharrah had died, and there are a lot of different factors to consider that collectively led to Arthur's death, not just kilgharrah's actions. (Although if we're casting blame, i'll be the first to condemn the lizard. Along with Uther ofc. None of this would have happened if it weren't for the purge anyway, so...)

Anyway, kudos to you if you actually read through all my gibberish. I get way too carried away with hypotheticals sometimes.

do u guys think arthur still wouldve died if kilgharrah died first

[koolkat9]

A Vampire, A Werewolf and A Merman: Arthur’s Brother’s Headcanons

I’m thinking of this au again and now that the uk bros are canon and I’ve got Niamh I decided include them in more detail in this au.

After Arthur got turned and ran away, Dylan worked tirelessly to find all the information he could about werewolves. All the siblings researched the topic, but Dylan went the farthest with it because 1) His little brother is struggling with this and 2) It’s actually really interesting 

In his pursuit of knowledge and his brother, Dylan seeks out a real werewolf. As he expected it’s not easy, but while heading home from the pub one night with his brothers, they hear rustling in the bushes. Curious, Dylan follows and comes face to face with what he’s been looking for. Unfortunately, he startles the werewolf and ends up getting bitten as well.

Alastair is furious that Dylan could have been so careless while Dylan is surprisingly calm and unfazed

Dylan knows what to expect and knows how to deal with it so he starts learning how to control it

Though it doesn’t take long for Dylan to get a handle on his new abilities and wolf form, Alastair still suggests they leave, they have to find Arthur anyway.

Eventually they arrive at the town Arthur has come to call home and meet Afonso who recognizes them (Arthur had shown him pictures). He’s able to take them to Arthur.

The siblings are brought to Francis’s mansion. They’re all confused that this is where Arthur lives now. They’re all a little nervous to knock on the door because they find it hard to believe that Arthur is able to live here, but eventually Niamh is like “Fuck it” and knocks on the door.

Francis is the one to open the door 

“Ah Bon…jour…” Francis’s greeting died in his throat as he noticed his guest. Four sets of green eyes that matched his lover stared back at him. So these were Arthur’s siblings.  “Uh…Arthur! I-I…uh…Y-Y-You may want to come down to the front entrance…” He gave the group an awkward laugh. “He’ll just be a minute. In the meantime, why…why don’t you all come inside.”

An annoyed Arthur comes down, followed closely by Ludwig and their puppy. When he sees his family he almost crumples to the floor

Dylan is the first to run over to him, pulling into the tightest hug

Ludwig is so confused, still fairly new to his relationship with Arthur and Francis and thus not as aware of Arthur’s family and the drama that ensued. Francis gives him physical reassurance as they watch

Eventually the siblings are pulled into a group hug

The happiness is short lived however when Arthur realizes Dylan got turned and it turns into an argument

Francis intervenes and decides that they should all turn in for the night

The next morning, there is still tension, but Francis takes them on a tour-> When they get to the beach Dylan pulls Arthur aside and they talk things out and make up

Dylan starts helping Arthur learn more about himself and his abilities though he surprised to find Arthur has actually gotten a handle on some things already

Then the full moon rolls around and Dylan and Arthur end up transforming. It’s all well and good especially since Dylan has full control over himself 

Something sets Arthur off and he ends up running out and towards the town

Francis panics because last time Arthur had gone to town in his wolf form he almost got killed so Alastair immediately takes off followed by Dylan and everyone else

They catch up to Arthur who they realize is injured and extremely frightened-> Francis warns them all to give Arthur room, but Alastair doesn’t listen and tries to approach him-> He’s aggressive and angry which frightens Arthur more and in the chaos Arthur bites Alastair

Everyone freezes, but when Arthur hears someone approaching he bolts off and Dylan takes off after him

Niamh and Conner agree to take Alastair back to the mansion to treat his wound while Francis in Ludwig chase after Dylan and Arthur

Eventually they come home, Arthur is carried in by Ludwig and has passed out due to his injuries

Alastair, who was furious at Arthur up until this point softens and the state his younger brother is in

Arthur is guilt ridden when he wakes up the next day. He had sworn he would never bite anyone and now he bit his own brother and Alastair will have to go through the same thing Arthur did.

Luckily Francis and Ludwig are there to calm him down and convince him to heal up a bit before talking to Alastair and assure him everything would be okay

A few days go by and Arthur is able to get out of bed and he faces Alastair-> He goes to apologize but Alastair just hugs him-> No words are exchanged, but the rare affection is enough to pour out their feelings surrounding this whole situation-> Arthur’s guilt, Alastair’s anger but also his concern for his little brother and their relief to be reunited and their regret of how everything has went down

Niamh, who is very much into potions and elixirs, offers to work on a cure for her three brothers-> Dylan right away says no, Alastair shrugs saying it depends on what Arthur wants, everyone turns to Arthur unsure of where he stands

Arthur considers it for a moment, but declines. He’s come to love himself for who he is now thanks to Ludwig, Francis, Afonso and Alfred and he would never want to trade the life he has for himself now for anything. This life was made possible because he was a werewolf

Arthur’s siblings end up moving into the town, Dylan helps  Alastair and Arthur get a grasp on their abilities and things return to normal for the siblings or at least as normal as they can be now that they aren’t all under the same roof

They eventually introduce Arthur’s siblings to Al and Matt with Al latching onto Niamh and Matt bonding with Alastair and to an extent Dylan

[novaiya]

American Storm - Arthur x Reader

Summary: Abigail was pregnant. Having lost your child few years back, you're having a hard time coping, but Arthur is there to help you through it.

Words: 1,444

Warnings: loss of a child, angst.

A/N: This was extremely hard to write. I'm not a fan of angst (as you can see, most/all of my work is lighthearted and cute), and this went even beyond that. If I didn't do this topic justice, I hope you can understand why.

Based on the request: do you know when arthur has a dialogue talking about his son isaac? you could write where the reader and arthur actually had a child but he, unfortunately, died (the cause may be your preference) almost no one in the gang knows about it and the reader blames herself for all this time

AO3 Link

Abigail was pregnant.

The news was all everyone could talk about. From how far along she was, to who’s the father, to how a child could live in a gang of outlaws, all people could talk about was the impending addition to the gang.

Dutch wasn’t happy, but he, like the rest of the people, knew that nothing could be done at this point. All they could do now was be prepared for the child’s arrival and make sure Abigail was as comfortable as she could be.

The rest of the gang members varied from being excited, annoyed or scared. Some thought that Abigail should do what’s best for the child and leave the gang, but when asked where she would go, no answer came. Others were surprisingly excited and were looking forward to becoming aunts and uncles to the little boy or girl that was going to grow up in the camp.

John, having been the last to bed Abigail and being her on-and-off boyfriend, was chosen as the child’s father and fell in all three camps. He was excited at moving up to the next step in his life and having a child; He was annoyed that this next step came out of the blue; And he ultimately was scared at what this meant for him and the rest of his life. Would he be a good father? Will he be able to protect the child? All of those thoughts flooded his brain like a river, and he felt himself buckle under the responsibility that was suddenly thrusted upon his shoulders.

You liked Abigail. Since she joined the gang almost a year ago, the two of you quickly became good friends. She was smarter than she let on, and lived a life no easier than the rest of you, so it was easy for the two of you to connect. You thought of her as your friend, which was why it pained you so much that you had to distance yourself from her upon hearing the news.

You could hear the commotion outside of your tent. The child kicked for the first time, so everyone from Uncle, to Susan, to Dutch, to even John himself went to see and feel for themselves. Their voices, happy and boisterous, carried all throughout the camp, reaching even the tent where you have secluded yourself in.

The salty flavor of your own tears have become a usual taste upon your lips, and you have long stopped trying to dry them out. Curled on your cot, you softly wailed into the pillow, trying to be as quiet as possible. Each sob made your whole body shake, and you felt pathetic as you bit your lip, keeping yourself from crying louder.

“Darlin’, you in there?” you heard Arthur say from outside the tent.

You took a shaky, uneven breath, trying to calm yourself down enough to speak back. When you spoke, your voice came out broken. “Yes”

The flaps of the tent opened, illuminating the inside of your tent with a hint of sunlight for only a moment as Arthur went in.

Whatever he wanted to say flew out the window as soon as his eyes landed on your form. You looked small and fragile as you laid on the cot, curled on yourself like a beaten dog. He didn’t need to ask you the reason for your tears; he already knew. Neither of you brought the topic up until this moment, dancing around the subject, both of you too scared to be the first to say the words.

He sat on the cot next to you and reached out with his hand to brush the hair from your face. Needles and pins, sharp as a razor's edge struck his heart upon seeing your face, tear streaks evident from hours of crying. He could feel a sob of his own make his way up his throat, but he swallowed hard and spoke.

“I should’ve been there for you,” he said, his voice somber.

You sat up a bit in the cot and after brushing your nose and eyes with the back of your hand said, “There’s nothing you could’ve done, Arthur,” your voice still hoarse and small.

The two of you were silent for a couple of minutes, both of you lost in your thoughts, reminiscing about the past, of what was and what could’ve been. As images of the fateful night flooded your brain, so real you could practically feel yourself there, you broke into a cry.

Arthur’s hands were on your within seconds, enveloping you in his arms and bringing you to his chest. He ran a soothing hand down your hair and your back, his own tears now freely running down his cheeks.

“I’m sorry, Arthur,” you cried against his chest, clawing at his shirt, “I’m so sorry. It was all my fault.”

Even with years that have passed, you still blamed yourself for the loss of your child. The night your water broke, Susan was the one helping you deliver the baby and even she with her limited knowledge of childbirth knew that something was not right. From the unusual amount of pain you were feeling to the amount of blood, she knew that she had to get you to a doctor as soon as possible. Arthur, Dutch, John and Hosea were all on a job, so she alone had to get you into the wagon and drive you to the nearest town. She was shaking as she drove the wagon, the sound of your cries and screams making her hold on the rains tighter and spurring the horses harder. None of that mattered in the end, for when you did reach the doctor, it was too late.

Arthur knew that something was wrong as soon as he and the other men came back to camp. His heartbeat was raging and his hands shaking as he searched the camp for you, only to be told by Pearson that he saw you and Susan leave the previous night. Without speaking with anybody else, he mounted his horse and made his way to the town.

He found you and Susan at the doctor, crying. She held you in her hands, running a soothing hand down your back as you cried your eyes out in her chest. Upon Arthur’s arrival, she looked up at him, her eyes just as red, and he could feel a part of him die in that moment.

Neither of you blamed each other, instead blaming yourselves. Arthur never forgave himself for leaving that day. He felt that if he stayed back, stayed with you, he could’ve done something. Perhaps gotten you to the doctor’s faster, or found you a medication. You, on the other hand, felt the fault was completely your own; That it was your fault that this all happened, that your body made this happen. You couldn’t look at yourself the same way, and each day that you lived, blamed yourself.

Arthur placed both of his hands on your shoulders, pulling you from his chest so he could look at you. Your eyes were bloodshot, tears flowing freely down your cheeks, to your chin and on the cot. He lifted one of his hands to brush the tears away. The laughter and cheering from the outside has died down and you could now hear the sound of your sniffles and shaky breathing. As you raised your eyes to look at Arthur, your heart broke in two when you saw that he was crying. Not as much as you, but with the faint light of the lamp in the corner, you could see that his eyes were red and there were streaks of tears running down his cheeks.

“You and me,” he said. “We will get through this. We always do.”

Your lip shook, and when another cry broke from your mouth, you hid your head back into Arthur’s chest, wetting his shirt with your tears. Warmth and safety; that’s what you always felt when you were with Arthur, and right now was no different. As you laid your head against his chest, calmed down by his breathing and the warmth radiating off of him, you let yourself, for a moment, think that maybe yes, you will get through this.

The two of you spend the rest of the night in each other’s arms, talking and crying, crying and talking.

Outside, John too let himself think that maybe he and Abigail will get through this. The child kicked all throughout the night, and John was there the entire time, his hand over her stomach, a smile on his lips.

[tiredcowpoke]

TITLE: Sober Thoughts PAIRING: Arthur Morgan/Reader. REQUEST: Anon sent: Hey dear! If nothing similar has ever been requested, I would like to propose to you a reader who has not made any friends or real connections ever since joining the gang - after having their family disown them - making them rather cautious around people. One night being drunk they confess their feelings to Arthur, having rambled about their fear of being lonely. I had a heating discussion about something similar and would love to see someone's take on that. Have a great day and thanks for listening. WARNINGS: Drunkenness, self-deprecation, isolation, familial issues, unresolved tension. NOTE: Thank you to whoever requested this! As rusty as I feel with everything on here, this was interesting to write and I hope this lives up to your expectations. Also, tried to keep this as gender neutral as I could considering the use of ‘they.’ 

You knew that you and alcohol didn’t mix well sometimes. 

It was something you often reserved for the events at camp, where everybody was drinking and saying things that they might regret the next morning. Or, preferably, just forgot about completely. There had been more than enough instances of you willingly blocking out conversations and moments from your memory, and you could only hope that was the same for you in some cases. However, sometimes the temptation was hard to resist, even if it was just you and another person. 

Such as now. 

It had been about a day off from the current camp, seeking out some lead before that turned out to be nothing more than a rumor. Arthur had more than a gripe about that, usually being the one to sent out to look into those things. With your sense of direction and steady hand with a gun, you figured that was what made you a good pick for this particular outing. You had to be useful, you thought. There was no other reason to keep you around. It was an odd thought that sat strangely heavy in your gut when the words would sit on your mind, but...well, what else was there? You earned your keep, as did everybody else, and that was that. You really didn’t want to think too deeply about that, but it was hard not to. 

Really, they weren’t unfamiliar thoughts but they had been circling around a lot more recently. As much as you didn’t want to admit it, your current companion may have been a significant source of that. 

It wasn’t Arthur’s fault, he had no idea he was behind that. That was all you. Really, you had tried to rationalize the thoughts away. You didn’t really get close to people, not often anyway. It felt like there had always been a distance, being left on your own as a child with overly distant parents. No long-lasting childhood friends, a family who didn’t really see much of you or in you. It had been easy to fall into crime, mostly petty things. Inevitably, you didn’t always pull off flawless scores, a few people had started to recognize you. People talked, as they do, and--well. 

A part of you had seen the disowning coming. If anything, it had felt like you had disowned your own family well before they even had the thought of doing the same in return, but that didn’t make it any less hard. There was always something there--maybe if you had made enough money, ill-gotten or otherwise, it would have said something about you. Yet, even with a pocket full, you hadn’t exactly felt any different. People weren’t less strangers to you, including those who you probably should have known the best. It just left you with a reputation that you hadn’t exactly expected to carry, but it was one you had earned all the same. 

It had set you on your current path, too. Years ago. Picked up by Dutch and his gang, it had been an...interesting choice you made. It was one that made you shy away in the beginning, they weren’t a huge gang at that point but it was enough where it made you think twice. You had a habit of keeping people at arm’s length, and seeing how Dutch carried himself and how he talked about his gang, you knew that mentality wouldn’t exactly be the best fit. Yet, you also knew there was safety in numbers, which was had you finally agreeing to ride with them for a short while. 

In the beginning, at least. 

Trying to prove yourself to the people around you, forming those connections you had all but given up on, it had been an easy choice after a while to stay. Even through all the moving around and conflicts. You had particularly warmed to Arthur, the gang’s enforcer, usually the one to be sent along on jobs and leads. You had learned pretty early on that if you wanted to get something done, Arthur was a reliable person to turn to if you knew you couldn’t handle it by yourself. There had been other things you had noticed, too. The way he regarded some people in camp, how well he cared for his horses, a quiet intelligence sitting on top of his reliability. He had his flaws, too. How brash he could be, the cruelty he possessed due to living a lifetime of this and how he used that as both a shield and an excuse. Yet, there was an understanding there--and it wasn’t like you could judge much in the long run, anyway. 

You had accepted this life, not given much else as much as a part of you knew you had sought it out all those years ago. In doing so, however, you had also allowed yourself to be part of his gang. The distance was still there in some places, definitely so. You tended to keep your thoughts and secrets close to your chest, even with how close you felt to some people. Arthur included. There had been one specific secret that you had been keeping from him, too. Something you had fought tooth and nail to rationalize away, yet it remained. You knew you sometimes sought him out with your gaze more times than you should, wanted to be near him more than anybody else, started to think of him with a particular fondness soaking into those thoughts. 

Yet, those stayed closed off. You couldn’t bring yourself to talk about it--didn’t know what you’d say. 

That is, until you made the mistake of drinking on a night where those thoughts were particularly apparent. 

Night had fallen pretty quickly, along with rain. It hadn’t been long until the light droplets had turned into an actual downpour, the chill of the air and water seeping into your clothing as you tried to keep close behind Arthur in the darkness. At a few points, it kind of just felt like you were following his lantern light, hoping that your horse didn’t slip or trip over anything. Thankfully, after a while you saw the lights of the nearby town, the rain finally starting to let up but at that point you were tucked into yourself as you tried to stop the shivers. 

“Travelled far ‘nough tonight, I reckon,” Arthur called back once you could see the main street ahead of him, “I’m headin’ to the saloon. Need a damn meal and some rest.” 

“Sounds good enough to me,” you replied, following him toward the building. As much as you didn’t particularly want to spend the night in a crowded building, the idea of a warm place with some food and drink was too hard to turn down. 

Though, thankfully, the later night had it a little less crowded than you had been expecting. You and Arthur had managed to get a table and a couple plates of the stew they were serving. And some whiskey, for the both of you but after a while it felt like it was just you. Why you were taking to the bottle too hard, you didn’t fully know, but after a while you found it hard to care. 

“Keep on like that and tomorrow’s ride is gonna be a rough one for you,” Arthur commented at some point, his words not untouched by the alcohol either, but you could feel the room starting to sway a bit as you waved a hand. 

“I’m just trying to relax, c’mon,” you muttered, passing the bottle off toward him with a slightly unsteady hand. 

“Hey, I ain’t judgin’, just warnin’,” he returned, mercifully finishing off the last of the current bottle. Closest you have ever gotten to touching his lips--the thought pulling a quick grimace from you in disgust at the almost lovesick feeling that touched you for a moment. Maybe it was best you didn’t get more whiskey. 

“You’re always warning me. Other people. Don’t worry about me,” you replied dismissively only to be met with a sardonic chuckle from him. 

“Yeah, well, considerin’ how you’re strugglin’ to speak right now, I’m thinkin’ someone should.” 

“I looked out for myself for years before you. You know that, right?” you asked, knowing you should avoid it but you felt on the verge of a barrage of words. Considering how withdrawn you liked to be, how removed you wanted your thoughts to be from your mouth, the whiskey seemed to work under all of that and make it all the easier for things to slip out. 

Still, you couldn’t help but the slight touch of anger at Arthur’s almost nonchalant regard towards your words. 

“Yeah, yeah. I remember you. Angry street kid ‘fore Dutch got his hooks into you. That ain’t an uncommon story.” 

“Yeah, well, where it feels like most people left that behind, I still can’t seem to,” you replied with some sharpness to your tone, “The distance.” 

“You’re drunk, maybe--” 

“I’m not--I’m not that drunk,” you interrupted, leaning forward to fold your arms on the table for a moment, “Just...a part of me is real tired of that. The isolation. We got a whole camp pull of people, how am I still so isolated? That’s on me. I make myself as useful as I can, I can’t do everything but I do what I can, and somehow I can’t seem to fix that. I don’t even think I’m that good, either. As long--as long as I’m useful, I have worth.” 

A part of you was begging you to just shut up. You knew you were saying things you didn’t want to say out loud--the hell would Arthur want to hear this for? You didn’t want him to pity you, that was the last thing you wanted. You wanted him to think you were capable, that you could hold your own and that it wasn’t a burden to ride around with you. You wanted him to think of you in the same way you did him--to want you in that same way. 

Maybe you were more drunk than you were trying to convince him of, but you could feel more words coming up in light of those thoughts as you leaned back in your chair, shrugging. 

“When I thought I was comfortable with all that, suddenly I wasn’t,” you continued, “I never realized how damn lonely I was. When my family left me, figured I had to be good enough for myself. Yet, here you are. Checking up on me at camp, inviting me out on jobs when you know I’ll be a good fit, buying me a meal and making sure I don’t drink myself to death.” 

“Where’s all this comin’ from?”

“I don’t know,” you replied, looking him over for a moment as you let out a sigh through your nose, “Why do I like you?” 

“I don’t know,” Arthur replied around a small huff, leaning back in his own chair. 

“I don’t know either, but I do. I really do. You sit in my thoughts more than anybody else, yet...I don’t know. Do I like you or am I lonely?” If it hadn’t felt like your thoughts were going by at such a dizzying pace, you would have noticed the slight expression change on Arthur’s change. Amusement dropping away to a slight confusion. “I think it might be both. That’s the only way I can explain it.” 

“I ain’t...I ain’t really worth that,” Arthur started, causing you to lean forward toward the table again. 

“You are to me,” you stated, “I don’t just let anybody in, and you’ve been one of the only. That...that has to say something, I just...don’t know what to do about that.” 

“Maybe sleepin’ off the whiskey, first,” he replied, causing you to blink for a moment before bowing your head slightly. 

“Yeah, probably,” you replied around an almost bitter chuckle, “I...I am drunk, I’m sorry.” 

“I’ve made a worse fool out of myself,” Arthur replied--had you made a fool of yourself? Was that what he was walking away from this conversation with? 

You didn’t press into it more, a part of you scared of what would come out of your mouth next. Still, Arthur didn’t comment on it further for the night after he had bought the both of you some rooms, the whiskey at least allowing you some sleep when you otherwise would have likely tossed and turned all night if you were sober. Though, Arthur was right, the morning light made you regret the whole trip completely. 

Yet, while some parts were a little foggy, the conversation of the previous night came back to you in pieces pretty quickly after waking up. The pounding in your head wasn’t helped by the stress and embarrassment over that whole thing that settled into your gut. 

Still, you pulled yourself out of bed and made your way out to your horse to wait for Arthur. The sunlight was rough on your eyes, but you didn’t trust your stomach to eat anything just yet. You had worse hangovers, but it was enough of one to tell you that you probably should have avoided the alcohol last night. Though, thankfully you weren’t standing outside the saloon for too long before Arthur came out and made his way toward you. 

“Mornin’,” he greeted, “How’re you holdin’ up?” 

“Not well,” you muttered, “I’m hoping the fresh air will help.” 

“Here’s hopin’,” Arthur replied, checking his saddlebag for a moment before climbing up into the saddle before you followed suit. 

The movement of your horse didn’t help much with the effects of alcohol, but it wasn’t something you were completely unfamiliar with. Really, some words sat on your tongue about the previous night, yet you weren’t sure how to approach this. If you wanted to just tell him to forget the whole thing, that you were drunk and just saying things. If you wanted to stand by what you said, drunk words were sometimes sober thoughts. Yet, after a while, you found out that you didn’t need to worry about how to bring it out when you caught Arthur turning his head slightly to glance your way. 

“All that you said last night, you was tellin’ the truth?” 

“...Yeah, for what I remember,” you said, relenting to telling the truth at the confrontation, “I’m sure some of it was drunk rambling.” 

“Yeah, some of it,” he replied with some light humor, putting you at ease somewhat. Still, it seemed like he was thinking things over, your eyes on his back as he continued to ride ahead of you somewhat on the current trail. 

“Arthur…” you started after a moment, “if you...you don’t return any of that, we can forget I said anything.” 

He let that linger for a few more moments, the suspense almost getting to you but you knew to give him some time. 

“Sounded a lot to just forget,” he replied after a moment, turning his head somewhat to glance toward you over his shoulder. 

Yeah, you knew. You had let him into some rather embarrassing parts of your head, the door kicked open by the alcohol. Though, it felt less like Arthur had wandered in himself and more like you were tossing things out of it in front of his feet. That idea made a small coil of regret sit in your gut. 

“I…” he continued after a moment, causing you to glance toward his back again, “I ain’t so sure what to say to all that from last night, but do ya really think you ain’t got worth?” 

Yes. The fact that slipped out last night was not something you liked to think about, but clearly it stuck with him. You had told him that you thought about him, too. This whole thing was awkward, your staring at his shoulders as he rode ahead of you was starting to burn your eyes a little. Yet, it felt like something was clutching at your lungs, as if waiting for a signal to race after a train. 

“Maybe it ain’t much, comin’ from me,” Arthur continued at your silence, “but you got worth. To the folk who matter. Things would be different if you weren’t around.” 

Did you matter to him? That was the big question, the one that sat on your tongue. Yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to ask. You didn’t want to know the answer. You had laid that out a bit last night and so far it seemed like Arthur didn’t really want to address it. Still, his words did pull a bit at something in you, making you blink finally and drop your gaze with a small nod.

“...Thank you,” you replied with a small nod, letting out a sigh through your nose. Arthur gave a small nod of his head, speaking up about digging in and getting back to camp. 

You had your questions, wanted some sort of answer. Yet, that was enough for now. You just wanted to leave the night behind you. Maybe he just needed some time with it--you would, too. That was a small hope, but you would take the small comfort from his words as you squeezed your legs around your horse to follow after him.

[lumosandnoxwriting]

Thinking of You - Fred Weasley

Title: Thinking of You Pairing: Fred x fem!reader Summary: Fred and the reader are best friends. No matter what George thinks he knows. Just best friends. Best friends who are in love, that is. A/N: this is for the anon who wanted a best friends who are obviously in love with each other!! Reader is the daughter of Sirius Black and Marlene McKinnon, I tried to make it obvious but there it is in case it isn’t clear!! Feedback is always welcomed and requests are open!

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“So, any fun plans for this summer?” Lee asks, trying to break the tension in the air.

Y/N shrugs, pulling her eyes from the landscape swirling outside the train so she can look at the three boys sitting with her. Train rides home for the summer with Lee, Fred and George are easily some of the best memories they’ve made together.  They’re usually filled with loud laughter, too much chocolate and plans for their next year of pranks. They’ve been the fearsome foursome since the first day of term nearly six years ago, when Y/N had called Snape Snivellous under her breath, and Fred had laughed so loud he landed himself in detention. Fred had insisted she sit with him, George and Lee at dinner that night and the four of them have been pulling pranks and causing chaos together ever since.

But this year, this year is different. Over the past few years they’ve become accustomed to their school year ending in a less than traditional way, but it’s never stopped them from having fun together one last time as they head towards home. This year though, the last few weeks have been so tense and sad around the castle that it has carried over into their moods. Y/N has never seen Fred and George so quiet, except for the time Fred fell asleep with his head in her lap in the common room third year.

“Come on, Y/N. You’ve got to have something exciting going on. You and Remus always have summer plans,” Fred teases, nudging her knee with his.

Y/N scowls at Fred, trying to hide her smile. Her home life was certainly less than traditional, and Y/N’s friends loved to tease her about it. They didn’t tease her about the fact that she had been raised by her Godfather, but more so about the fact that she had been raised by Remus Lupin, their former professor. When Remus took up a teaching position at Hogwarts during their 5th year, Y/N had no choice but to reveal to her friends just exactly why their new professor knew her so well. They had all thought it was pretty cool, but unfortunately for Y/N it raised more questions about her home life than it had answered.

She rolls her eyes, shoving Fred lightly. “We went on a road trip one summer and you’re still giving me shit about it? Pathetic,” she teases with a giggle. Fred throws his arm around her shoulder and messes with her hair. “If Remus,” she mocks, sticking her tongue out at Fred as she leans into his side. “Has planned anything then he hasn’t said anything.”

Y/N swallows thickly, trying to force the lump in her throat away. She hates lying to her friends, but she’s on strict orders from Dumbledore not to say anything. Now that Voldemort has returned secret plans have been made, the biggest of them being the reformation of the Order of the Phoenix. Remus had moved into Order headquarters a few days before the end of term, and she’d be joining him there for the summer.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Whatever you say,” Fred chides before he turns his attention to Lee.

Y/N lets herself snuggle into Fred’s side, a small smile appearing on her face when his grip around her tightens. George gives her a knowing look, and she sticks her tongue out at him, a pink blush creeping up on her cheeks. Despite whatever George thinks is going on with her and Fred, Fred Weasley is her best friend and absolutely nothing more.

-

“Dad!” Y/N squeals excitedly before she’s running down the entry hall of 12 Grimmauld Place and into her father’s open arms.

Sirius chuckles and wraps his arms around his daughter tightly. “Hello there little one. I’ve missed you.”

Y/N pulls away from her dad, a bright smile on her face, unable to contain her happiness. She’d been dreaming of the day that she’d get to live with Sirius and be a proper family since the end of last year, when the truth about James and Lily’s death was made clear. Y/N had only gotten to see her dad briefly before he had to flee, and she’d spent quite a bit of her free time thinking about him over the past year.

“Oh no, Y/N, Sirius, don’t worry. I don’t need a hand. I’ve got it,” Remus huffs, his tone teasing. Y/N turns back towards the door, giggling as Remus struggles to pull her trunk through the door. “What in Merlin’s sake do you have in this thing? It didn’t weigh this much when I dropped you off at Kings Cross in September.”

“I may or may not be harboring some things for the Weasley twins,” she admits with a laugh.

Remus gives her a disapproving look to try and hide the gleam of mischief in his eyes. He takes out his wand, waving it so that her trunk is now floating. “Harboring what? Is there something illegal in there? I know what Fred and George get up to.”

Y/N rolls her eyes and laughs along with Sirius. “It’s nothing like that, Remus. I promise. It’s just some stuff they’ve been developing for their joke shop. If Molly finds it she’ll destroy it, so Fred gave it to me to hold onto for a bit. Not a big deal.”

“Come on, Remus, don’t be a stick in the mud,” Sirius chides. “We got up to quite a bit of mischief in our younger days. It’s only natural that Y/N does as well. She’s got the blood of one Marauder and she was raised by another, that’s double the mischief.”

Y/N can tell that Sirius is trying to joke, but his voice shakes. She and Sirius have corresponded a few times since he flew off on Buckbeak and many of her letters contained stories of things her and Remus had done as she grew up. Often times Sirius’ replies were filled with apologies and regret that he had missed out on doing those things with her.

“As long as it’s nothing illegal I’ll let it slide,” Remus says quietly a few moments later. He directs Y/N’s trunk to fly down the hallway and up the stairs. “Second door on the right, yes?”

Sirius nods and puts his arm around Y/N’s shoulder, squeezing tightly. “That’s right. I spent all week preparing your room.” He looks down at Y/N with a reassuring smile. “Alright then, let’s head down to the kitchen for something to eat.”

-

“Have you got the rest of the rooms cleaned out, Sirius? Our guests will be arriving in a few hours,” Remus says as he takes a sip of coffee.

Y/N frowns, looking between Remus and her dad. “Guests? What guests?”

It’s only two weeks into summer break and Y/N has been enjoying every minute of it. Remus has been in and out of the house doing things for the Order, so she and Sirius have had plenty of time to connect. The house is pretty busy as is, with Order members fliting in and out at all hours of the night, so Y/N can’t imagine it getting any crazier.

Sirius and Remus share a look before Sirius turns to look at Y/N. “Dumbledore has fully briefed the Weasley family on what’s going on, and Arthur and Molly have joined the order. And since Arthur works at the ministry and their son Percy is an assistant to Fudge, Dumbledore thinks it’s best that they stay somewhere that’s under protection.”

“So, the Weasleys are going to be spending the rest of the holiday here?” Y/N asks, her cheeks heating up. When Remus nods she bites her lip. “Do they know? That Sirius is, you know, my dad?”

“You haven’t told them yourself?” Sirius asks. Y/N can hear the hurt in his voice.

Remus shakes his head. “Dumbledore told Arthur and Molly I’m sure, and Ron knows because of Harry, but I don’t think the Twins or Ginny know.” He turns to Sirius then. “We talked about this, Sirius. For Y/N’s safety no one knows you’re her father, that’s why she has Marlene’s last name. We all know that you’re innocent, but the rest of the Wizarding World doesn’t. It was smart of Y/N not to tell anyone except for those who know the truth about you.”

Y/N watches Remus and Sirius look at each other as if they’re having a conversation without even saying anything. “If it makes you feel better,” she says softly, causing both men to look over at her. “I only told them Remus is my Godfather because he started teaching at Hogwarts. He ruined my mysterious reputation.”

Sirius laughs, breaking the awkward tension that had fallen over them. “It does make me feel a bit better, yes.”

“Hey now, I won’t have any of this. You two ganging up on me. Y/N you’re supposed to be on my side,” Remus teases. “Now hurry up and finish your breakfast, you need to get a start on your summer reading. You remember that reading, Sirius? The reading I told you to make sure she started last week?”

Sirius puts his hands up. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he says innocently, sending Y/N a wink.

After breakfast Y/N does reluctantly head up to her bedroom to start on her summer reading.  And she has every intention of doing it. But as she settles into her fluffy bed and starts to read about some transfiguration method she can’t help but let her eyes close, dreams of what shenanigans she and her friends may get up to this summer floating through her mind.

-

“Five more minutes, Remus,” Y/N mumbles, batting away the finger that’s poking her in the cheek. When the poking persists she opens her eyes, a noise of surprise coming out of her mouth. “Fred? George?” she asks in surprise, suddenly sitting up. She starts to fix her hair, a light flush on her cheeks. “What in the hell are you two doing here?”

“We could ask you the same thing, Y/N,” Fred says, sitting down on the edge of her bed.

“Yeah, imagine our surprise when we enter what we think will be our room for the summer,” George continues, taking a seat on the edge of the other side.

“And we see you, peacefully sleeping in a bed,” Fred says, leaning a bit closer to Y/N.

“In Sirius Black’s house,” they finish together.

“There is a perfectly reasonable explanation for that,” she starts, trying to figure out how to explain one of her deepest secrets to her best friends. They both look at her expectantly and she starts to twirl a piece of hair around her finger. “Sirius Black is my dad,” she mumbles.

Fred and George give her identical looks of disapproval. “Gonna have to speak up, love. We’re old men now, being 17 and all. We’re a bit hard of hearing,” Fred teases, lightly nudging her foot.

Y/N rolls her eyes, ignoring the feeling she has in her stomach from Fred’s pet name and touch. “Sirius is my dad. And not like how you guys like to tease me and say Remus is my dad. He’s my full on. Blood related. Dad.”

“Blimey, Y/N. You’ve been holding out on us. What are we going to find out next? Your mother is the Queen?” George teases with a laugh.

“You’re an idiot, you know who my mum is,” she says with a light laugh, leaning forward to punch George in the shoulder.

Fred wraps his hand around Y/N’s ankle and squeezes lightly, causing her to look over at him. “You have been holding out on us. How come?” he asks, trying to keep the same jokey tone his brother had to hide his genuine hurt.

“Because it’s pretty hard to make friends when the world thinks your dad is one of Voldemort’s biggest supporters,” she answers honestly. “That’s the reason why Remus changed my last name back to my mum’s when he got custody. My mum and her family, they died heroes, that’s the legacy that Remus wanted me to have.”

Fred squeezes her ankle again and Y/N tries to pretend that it doesn’t cause goosebumps to erupt up her leg. “But what about after? When you found out about what really happened?”

Y/N shrugs, looking away from Fred’s gaze. She knows that she could have told them the truth after she had learned it herself and she’s not really sure why she didn’t. “I dunno. You guys had just barely found out about Remus. It just seemed easier to keep it to myself.”

“So, it’s not because you secretly hate us and don’t really want to be our friend?” George asks with a grin.

Y/N grabs a pillow from behind her and throws it at his head. “You’re a moron, George.” Y/N fidgets, suddenly very aware that she is still in her pajamas. “Now shouldn’t you boys be doing something else? Like unpacking your things or bothering I dunno, anyone else in this house?”

George looks from Y/N to the place where Fred is still holding onto her ankle and gives her a glance that Y/N knows means he’ll be bringing this up to her later. She grabs another pillow and throws it at him. “Fine, fine, we’re leaving,” he laughs.

“Wow, someone is feeling feisty,” Fred teases. He squeezes her ankle one last time before he gets up and follows George out of her room. “Oh, by the way, nice Pj’s,” he teases, causing Y/N to throw her last pillow at him.

-

“Y/N dear, it’s lovely to see you!” Molly greets as Y/N enters the kitchen a bit later. Y/N smiles at her and accepts her warm hug. Having Molly in her life was certainly one of the best perks of being friends with Fred and George. Molly radiated warmth and was always willing to open her home and her heart to her children’s friends; something Y/N was always thankful for.

“Hi Molly. I’m so glad you’re here. Remus and Sirius are pretty awful cooks,” Y/N says with a laugh as she goes to sit down. She tries to take a seat next to George, but Fred grabs her arm and pulls her towards him instead. Y/N flicks Fred on the ear and takes a seat in between them, hoping to avoid more teasing remarks from George later on.

Sirius eyes the interaction between Y/N and Fred carefully, a small smirk forming on his lips. “Now while I can’t speak for Moony, I did just spend 12 years in Azkaban,” Sirius chides a moment later.

“I see why you always beg to spend the Holidays at the Burrow, Y/N,” Remus teases, choosing to ignore Sirius.

“Oh yeah it has everything to do with Mum’s cooking,” George pipes up, his tone a clear indication that Y/N’s yearning to spend time at the Burrow has little to do with Molly’s cooking.

Y/N hits George upside the head, causing Ginny and Fred to burst out in laughter. “Well I obviously don’t go there to spend more time with you, git”

“Okay, okay, that’s enough out of you lot,” Molly scolds lightly as trays of food start to fly onto the table. “Y/N is welcome at our home anytime no matter the reason.”

Y/N sticks her tongue out at George and reaches for a sandwich, her hand brushing Fred’s as he goes to grab the same one. “You take it,” she says quietly, letting her hand linger near his for a moment.

Fred grabs the sandwich and puts it on Y/N’s plate with a wink. “Nah you have that one, I’ll take this one.” Fred winks at her again as he takes the sandwich Ron was about to close his hand around.

“Hey!” Ron shouts in annoyance.

“Sorry ickle Ronniekins, gotta be faster than that,” Fred teases with a laugh.

Y/N laughs along with him, trying to ignore the warmth Fred’s hand gives off as it rests on her knee.

-

“I really am doing my reading, Remus, I promise!” Y/N shouts after someone knocks on her door.

Y/N had spent most of the day with Fred and George, getting caught up on the new item they’d started to develop in the few short weeks it’s been since the end of term. For a while she had just laid on Fred’s bed, watching him and George pour over their notes to try and work out the issues with what they called ‘extendable ears.’ Eventually she got up and went to find Ginny, mostly to avoid George’s stare after Fred’s hand wound around her ankle again. She avoided both boys until dinner, when the topic of her reading was brought up again. Unfortunately for Y/N, George ratted her out to Remus about her mid-morning nap, and he had made her promise that she’d head up to her room after dinner to read.

“Really? That’s quite boring,” Sirius says playfully as he pushes her door open.

Y/N laughs and throws the book she had been skimming onto the bed next to her. “Oh hey, Dad.”

Sirius closes the door behind him and comes to sit on the edge of her bed. “What’s with all this summer reading anyway? Last I checked Hogwarts didn’t set homework over the summer holidays.”

“It’s not official reading. Just something Remus makes me do during the break. Keep my mind fresh or something,” she explains with an eyeroll. “It has come in handy a couple times, but don’t tell him I said that.”

Sirius winks at her and pretends to zip his lips shut. “Your secret is safe with me.” Sirius pauses for a moment. “So, what’s going on with you and that Weasley boy?”

Y/N can feel her face start to heat up, and she starts to twirl her hair around her finger. “Fred and George are my best friends. Nothing more.”

“Your mother was one of my best friends back in our Hogwarts days, and you can clearly see how that worked out,” he jokes, reaching out to tuck a stray piece of hair behind Y/N’s ear.

“Really? I didn’t know that,” Y/N says softly, trying to both avoid the current topic and find out more information. “Remus didn’t talk about you much, growing up. For obvious reasons,” she chuckles.

Sirius gives her a sad smile. “Your mother was a wild card. You never really knew what she was thinking unless she told you. She instigated quite a bit of the shenanigans James and I got into, just to see if we would actually go through with it.”

“And of course, you guys did,” Y/N laughs.

Sirius scoffs playfully. “Well duh. I was never one to back down from a challenge, especially not when it gave me the opportunity to show off for your mother. I so desperately wanted her attention; it was actually quite pathetic. James would tease me relentlessly for it, but he was no better. Lily didn’t give him the time of day until at least 6th year, no matter how hard he tried to impress her.”

“Well obviously you got her attention eventually,” Y/N says, gesturing towards herself. “I’m living proof.”

“That you are, little one,” Sirius smiles. “You remind me of her so much. Obviously not looks wise,” he adds with a laugh when Y/N gives him a look. Appearance wise there is no doubt that Sirius is Y/N’s dad, they have the same Grey eyes and dark wavy hair. “You have her spirit and her attitude. You have her ability to charm anyone in a matter of minutes. I’ve seen you use it on Remus, it’s quite uncanny really.”

Y/N blushes. Growing up Remus had told her story after story about her mother. Probably to make up for the lack of stories about her dad, but Y/N enjoyed it either way. He often told her how much she reminded him of her, but it sounds different coming from Sirius. Sirius had been in love with her mother, had known her deepest secrets and had even started a family with her. If Sirius could see Marlene in Y/N, then there’s no doubt in her mind that it’s true.

“So, just friends eh?” Sirius asks a moment later, playfully nudging Y/N’s leg.

Y/N blushes again for a different reason and nods. “Yes, just friends,” she insists.

“We’ll see about that,” Sirius says with a wink. He stands up then and looks down at her. “Now you better actually do some summer reading, before Remus forbids us from spending any time together.”

-

“How’s the summer reading going?” Fred says teasingly as he sneaks up behind Y/N.

Y/N quickly turns around and hits him on the chest lightly with her book. “You’re such an asshat. This house is creepy enough as it is, there’s no need for you to go sneaking up on people.”

Fred laughs as he jumps over the back of the sofa and sits next to Y/N, his arm resting on the piece of furniture just behind her head. “But that’s half the fun.”

“Where’s George?” she asks, turning her head to look around and make sure that he isn’t lurking around somewhere as well.

“Why? Am I not enough for you?” Fred asks with a pout.

Y/N rolls her eyes and digs her fingers into his side, tickling him slightly. “No. But I recall Molly tasked you two with getting some doxies out of the curtains in the study upstairs so if you’re slacking off he is too.”

“Me? Slacking off?” Fred asks astonishingly, grasping at his heart. “Y/N, you absolute monster! You’ve wounded me! I would never be slacking off!” He grins down at Y/N, causing her to roll her eyes again. “But to answer your question he’s upstairs recovering from a mishap with one of our nosebleed nougats.”

Y/N grimaces, a memory of Lee Jordan bleeding all over her Potions notes coming to mind. “Yikes. Still haven’t gotten them just right?” Fred shakes his head, running a hand through his hair. “You think they’ll be ready? By the start of term?”

All Fred and George have talked about for years is opening up their own joke shop someday. In the past few years they’ve become closer than ever, having already developed some successful products with more in the works. Their only real roadblock has been funding, and Fred had shared with Y/N their plan to develop something called a Skiving Snackbox that they could sell to students to help with their startup costs.

“Oh yeah, there’s no doubt in my mind,” he responds confidently. “George and I are a force to be reckon with when we’ve got our mind on something and now that we’ve got our best girl with us for the whole summer,” Fred pauses so he can wink at Y/N and she hopes that the immediate blush that appears on her cheeks isn’t noticeable. “We’ll definitely get all the kinks worked out in time.”

Fred’s arm has fallen from its’ original resting place to Y/N’s shoulder, and his fingers have started to play with her hair. She rests her head on Fred’s shoulder, her fingers fiddling with the pages of her book. Fred’s fingers tug on her hair lightly, causing Y/N to look up at him. “What’s on your mind, Y/N?” he asks softly.

Y/N shrugs. “Just thinking about next year. We’re gonna be in our last year of school in a couple of months and I still have no idea what I want to do with my life.” During her OWL year Y/N had told McGonagall that she wanted to work in the Care of Magical Creatures department at the Ministry, but she isn’t quite sure that’s exactly what she wants. “You and George have already figured everything out and I’m just kinda stuck.”

Fred scoffs. “We have far from figured everything out, Y/N. But I’m glad it appears that way,” he chuckles. “And who cares if you don’t have everything figured out yet? You’re not even 17 yet. Frankly I think it’s rubbish that we’re expected to have our lives figured out when we’re this age.” Fred bites his lip. “If it really bothers you that much, then just come work at the joke shop with George and I.”

“What?” Y/N asks in surprise, trying to hide her excitement at his casual remark. “You’d really want me to work with you? The both of you. You and George,” she says quickly, looking away from Fred to hide her embarrassment.

“Yeah, ‘course, Y/N,” Fred says with a laugh. “You’re my best friend, why wouldn’t I want you to?”

“So, I’m your best friend, hm? Can’t wait to tell Lee you said that,” she teases, trying to hide her disappointment.

“Well, don’t you too look cozy?” George asks suddenly, causing Y/N and Fred to jump apart.

Y/N turns around so she can glare at George before she throws her book at him. “Blimey you’re a menace.”

George laughs and comes over to Y/N and Fred, forcing them apart so he can sit in between them. “Hey, that’s not very nice,” George says, giving Y/N a look when she digs her elbow into his ribs.

“You couldn’t have sat in any of the other chairs in this room?” Fred groans, moving over to give George room.

“I could have,” George says playfully. “But I wanted to sit here.” George grins wickedly at Fred. “Is that a problem, dear brother of mine? That I wanted to sit next to Y/N?”

“Not at all,” Fred says as he suddenly stands up. “We should probably get to that stuff Mum wanted us to do anyway.” Fred gives George a look and starts to head towards the door. “Enjoy you’re reading, Y/N,” he says before disappearing around the corner.

Y/N glares at George before digging her fingers into his ribs, causing him to yelp. “Ow! What was that for?” he asks, rubbing his side.

“You know exactly what that was for, git. You always have to go and make things weird,” Y/N huffs, crossing her arms.

“Oh, don’t be such a drama queen, Y/N,” George says with an eye roll. “And I wasn’t making things weird, I was simply trying to facilitate a conversation that you and my brother are both too stubborn to have on your own.”

“And what conversation might that be?” Y/N asks as she swallows thickly, already knowing the answer.

“Don’t be daft,” George drawls. “You’re both stupid in love with each other, so just admit it and make out so we all can move on. It’s getting ridiculous.”

Y/N blushes and digs her fingers into George’s ribs again to hide her nerves. “I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about, George. Fred is my best friend, just like you and Lee.”

“Oh yeah, because Lee and I are always looking for an excuse to touch you, my bad,” George rolls his eyes. “Wait, that was Fred who kept grabbing your ankle yesterday, silly me.” George hits himself on the forehead jokingly. “And it definitely wasn’t Fred who just left his brother up in bed after he nearly bled to death so he could come cuddle you. Definitely not. Oh, wait.”

“Now who’s being a drama queen,” Y/N teases lightly as she begins to twirl a piece of hair around her index finger. “Friends can cuddle with each other, it’s not a big deal,” she mumbles.

“You’re right it is normal, Harry, Ron and Hermione cuddle all the time,” George responds, nudging Y/N.

Y/N scoffs at George. “Just give it a rest, George. If I did feel something more than friendship with Fred I would never act on it. Fred isn’t shy about anything, if he wanted to be more than friends he would have said something by now. So, we are clearly meant to be nothing more than friends. Which I’m fine with,” she adds, glaring at George.  “Now go help your brother with that doxy infestation before Molly finds you here and sets off that awful portrait of my grandmother again.”

-

“Finally,” Fred groans when George joins him up in the third-floor study. “Mum’s gonna be here any minute to check up on our progress and getting rid of these doxies is a two-person job.”

George rolls his eyes and takes the spray bottle Fred practically shoves into his chest. “What’s got you in a mood? Upset that I interrupted your snuggle time with Y/N?” he jokes.

“No,” Fred grumbles. When George gives him his signature ‘cut the crap’ look Fred flips him off. “We were just sitting there, talking like two friends do. You’re the one that made it weird.”

George rolls his eyes. “Have you forgotten that we’re twins? And that I can practically read your mind?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Fred asks as he grabs his wand. He motions for George to get into place as he gets ready to cast the spell that will make the doxies fly at them. When George nods that he’s ready, Fred waves his wand and a flurry of doxies heads towards them.

“You know exactly what it means,” George grunts as he sprays the immobilizing potion at the doxies. When Fred doesn’t say anything as he starts to throw the stunned doxies in a bucket, George continues. “You very clearly have feeling for Y/N that expand beyond friendship.”

Fred glares at his brother and throws a doxie in the bucket a little too hard. “I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about. Y/N is my friend. My best friend, just like how she’s your best friend, git. Or are you claiming to be in love with her as well?”

“If she’s only your best friend then why did it bother you when I sat in between you two just now, hm?” Fred looks away from George, urging the younger twin to continue. “And what about the other day at lunch? She was going to sit next to me, and you pulled her towards you. Why? And what about that thing with the ankle? Hm? What was that all about?”

Fred turns away from George, trying to hide his blush. “Friends can be affectionate with each other, George, “ he insists. “Just because you don’t feel the need to be affectionate with Y/N doesn’t mean that I have non-platonic feelings for her because I do.”

“Oh really?” George asks curiously. “So, you wouldn’t mind if I started to show more affection for Y/N then? The same way you do?”

“Not at all,” Fred responds through gritted teeth. He stomps over to George and shoves the bucket into his stomach. “Now finish up with this, I’m going to go revamp our nougat recipe so we can avoid another bleed out.”

George smirks as Fred’s back as he storms out, a plan forming in his head.

-

“What the hell has gotten into you?” Y/N whispers into George’s ear a few days later during breakfast.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Y/N,” George responds with a wink.

Y/N narrows her eyes at him. “You’re up to something, I know it.”

Ever since their conversation in the lounge, George has been acting weird. He’s been insisting that she sit next to him at meals, when she hangs out with Fred and George in their room he pulls her down onto his bed and the other day he even went as far as to hold her hand while they watched Ginny and Ron play Wizard’s Chess.

“I’m just being a good friend, Y/N. Friends can be affectionate towards each other, can’t they, Fred?” George asks, suddenly turning towards his twin.

Fred glares at George. “Mhm. Of course they can.”

George then looks back at Y/N looking far too pleased with himself. “See, Y/N? I’m just doing what normal friends do.”

“Well knock it off,” she scolds lightly. “It’s weird.”

“Oh, so it’s weird when I do it, but when Fred does it, it’s a normal part of friendship,” George muses. “Interesting.”

Y/N scoffs and stands up from the table. “I’m going to go read.” She gives one last look at George before she exits the kitchen and heads upstairs.

-

“Can I come in?” Fred asks softly, leaning against the entrance to Y/N’s room. He planned on giving her some space after what went down at breakfast, but when she didn’t come down for lunch Fred decided to seek her out.

Y/N is sitting on her bed leaning up against the headboard with a book on her lap. “Yeah, sure,” she responds, not even looking up at Fred.

Fred sighs and comes to sit down next to Y/N. He leaves a small gap in between them and resists his urge to put his arm around her. “What’s going on with you? I’ve never seen you cross at George.”

“He’s just being an idiot,” she says, slamming her book shut and tossing it aside. “He’s taking the mickey out of me after a conversation we had the other day.”

Fred hums, nudging Y/N’s foot with his. “That would explain his odd behavior over the last few days. He’s been keeping you all to himself, I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages.”

Y/N blushes and punches his thigh lightly. “You know I’m just across the hall from you, right? You could have come in at any time to see me.”

“You know what I mean,” he chuckles. Fred bites his lip. “Must have been some conversation to get you both so worked up.”

“It was stupid honestly,” Y/N says with a shrug, trying to seem casual. “I just let him get to me and I shouldn’t have.”

“Yea, I got a bit stroppy at him the other day as well. That’s why he’s so quiet, he’s figuring out how to get in your head,” Fred muses with a laugh. “You’re alright though, yeah?”

Y/N nods, bumping their shoulders together. “Yeah, ‘m fine.”

“Good, now I won’t feel bad about doing this.”

Before Y/N can ask what Fred’s talking about, she’s being smacked in the head by a pillow. “Oh, it is on, Weasley!” she shouts, grabbing her own pillow.

They spend a few minutes hitting at each other, both of them laughing like crazy. Y/N manages to knock Fred’s pillow out of his hands as she lands a hit to his chest and Fred’s hands immediately fly to her sides and he starts to tickle her as a distraction. As she tries to wiggle away from him, Fred takes one hand away and knocks her own pillow to the ground.

“Okay, okay, you got me,” Y/N giggles, trying to catch her breath. Fred is hovering over her, a cheeky grin on his face. He brings a hand up to brush her hair out of her face, and Y/N tries to ignore the tingles that roll down her spine at his delicate touch. She’s suddenly very aware of Fred’s weight on top of her and a pink blush starts to creep up her neck.

“Oi! Lovebirds!” Ginny shouts, a laugh falling from her lips when Fred nearly falls off of Y/N’s bed as he tries to get up.

“What, Gin?” Fred runs a hand through his hair, trying to act casual.

“Mum needs help getting rid of some creature stuck under a bed upstairs, if you’re not too busy here,” she chuckles, gesturing towards Y/N.

Fred nods and shoots a grin at Y/N. “See ya later.” Fred heads out of her room, shoving Ginny as he goes.

-

“Damn,” Y/N mutters to herself. She was trying to tiptoe down into the kitchen to grab a snack before dinner, but the door to the stairwell is shut tightly. “Stupid Order.” She’s about to turn around and head back upstairs, when she hears some noise coming from the sitting room.

“Are you two playing Wizard’s Chess?” she asks in surprise. When she first entered the sitting room, she wasn’t sure what to expect, but Y/N certainly didn’t think it would be Fred and George sitting on either side of the coffee table, with Ron’s Wizard Chess board between them.

George rolls his eyes as one of his pieces moves across the board. “Don’t act so shocked, Y/N. Contrary to popular belief Fred and I in fact have brains and we use them from time to time.”

“I’m not shocked because you’re doing something that involves thinking,” she chides as she takes a seat on the sofa. “I’m shocked because you’re doing something quiet and innocent.” Fred leans back against Y/N’s legs, and his left hand winds around her left ankle. “Figured you two were up in your room working on those extendible ears again.”

Fred huffs as one of his pieces gets destroyed by one of George’s. “We were, ‘til Mum walked in on us and confiscated it. She’s going to Kings Cross after dinner to pick up Hermione, so we’re just killing time until we can go and nick it back.”

“And your nosebleed nougats? You figured that one out?” Y/N asks, starting to run her hands through Fred’s hair.

“Yup, turns out we weren’t using enough Billywig Sting Slime in the antidote candy, so it wasn’t strong enough to stop the bleeding,” George responds, not even bothering to look up at her.

Y/N groans. “You guys are boring. I’m going back to my room.” She moves to stand up, but Fred tightens his grip on her ankle.

“No,” he coos. “Stay, please.” Fred tilts his head back so he can pout up at Y/N. “We’ll be more entertaining, I promise.”

“Yeah, this game is over anyway,” George says with a grin. “Checkmate.”

Fred groans as his final piece falls. “I’ll get you next time.”

“Yeah sure you will,” George laughs. “Moving on to more exciting things, someone’s birthday is coming up.”

“That’s right! In just a few weeks little Y/N will finally be the big 17,” Fred teases, squeezing her ankle again.

Y/N kicks at him lightly. “Oh, shove off, I’m only a few months younger than you lot.”

“But we’re still older than you, and that’s what matters,” George teases. “So, what do you wanna do for your birthday?”

Y/N shrugs, she honestly hadn’t even thought about it. Her and Remus never really made a big deal about her birthday. They’d pick up some takeout from a muggle restaurant and later in the evening they’d have cake and she’d open up her presents. It was never anything special, and Y/N was fine with that.

“Just figured we’d do the usual, if I’m honest. Dinner, cake, some presents. Nothing crazy,” she responds a moment later.

Fred frowns up at her. “That’s it?”

“Figured you’d do something big; a young witch only turns 17 once ya know,” George says.

Y/N nods. “Yeah, that’s what I always do. Why would this year be any different?”

“I don’t know, maybe because your two best friends in the whole world are here to celebrate it with you?,” Fred teases.

“And your father is too,” Sirius says, causing all three of them to turn and look at him.

“Blimey dad, you scared me. How long have you been standing there?”

Sirius smiles at Y/N and steps farther into the room, his forearms resting on the back of the sofa. “Just a few minutes, the Order meeting just got out.”

Y/N can hear shuffling as people head past the sitting room towards the entrance of Grimmauld Place. “Anything exciting happening?” she asks hopefully.

Despite the fact that Fred and George have already reached adulthood in the Wizarding World and Y/N’s 17thbirthday was only a few weeks away, none of them had been allowed to join the order or attend meetings. Y/N had begged Remus to let her join not too long after summer started, and he had firmly put his foot down. Fred and George had managed to get their extendible ears up and running for them to eavesdrop on the meetings, but everything said ended up translated into Spanish.

“You know as much as I would like to share that information with all of you,” Sirius says slowly, looking from Y/N to the twins. “I can’t. For one it is classified information per Dumbledore’s orders,” Sirius rolls his eyes. “And two, your mother will have my head and mount it on the wall if I say anything to you boys.”

Y/N groans. “This is such bullshit. We’re old enough to be considered adults and yet we’re not allowed to make decisions for ourselves.”

“Why haven’t you joined the order?” Fred asks, squeezing Y/N’s ankle so she’ll look down at him. “Obviously George and I can’t because of Mum but why haven’t you? Sirius is clearly fine with it.”

“Because Remus said no,” she explains with an eyeroll, as if the answer is obvious. Y/N can hear Sirius shift uncomfortably behind her.

“And? Sirius is your dad. That’s got to count for something,” George points out.

Y/N frowns, she honestly hadn’t even thought about that. Sirius is her dad, and Remus may have been the one who raised her, but he’s not her dad. Y/N loved growing up with Remus, and she’s thankful that he sacrificed so much of his life so that she could be raised by someone who loved her and cared about her wellbeing. But Sirius is free from Azkaban now and they’re living under the same roof. Why shouldn’t Sirius be the one making her decisions?

“Makes sense to me,” Sirius says. “So, Y/N, you have my blessing. If you want to join the Order once you turn 17, then do it. You’re right. In the eyes of the ministry you become an adult in a few weeks, and you should be the one making your decisions.”

Y/N smiles up at her dad. “Guess this birthday will be a bit different than normal.”

-

“So, I’ve been trying to figure out what to get you for your birthday,” Fred muses as he comes to sit on the edge of Y/N’s bed.

Y/N resists her urge to pull him closer, instead choosing to nudge his side with her foot in the hopes that he’ll grab her ankle again. As weird of a gesture it might be, Y/N actually really enjoys it. “Is that why I’ve barely seen you? Too busy thinking?” she teases, a hint of seriousness in her voice.

Once Hermione arrived at Grimmauld Place it seemed like Molly was kicked into overdrive. She had them working like crazy to get the house cleaned and free of the magical pests that had taken residence in the empty house. Any free time they had Fred and George spent locked up in their room, meaning Y/N has only seen them at meals for the past week.

“Aw, did you miss me?” he asks playfully, his hand winding around her ankle. “George and I have just been busy is all. We’ve finally got the extendible ears transmitting in English, and we managed to get the Fainting Fancies to taste like caramel instead of ear wax.”

“That’s good, I guess,” she mumbles.

Fred squeezes her ankle lightly. “Oh, come on don’t be like that. You’re still my best girl.”

“You could have at least invited me to join,” Y/N says, trying to keep from smiling at their contact.

“Hey, I wanted to invite you in,” Fred says defensively. “But George kept spouting about how I get distracted when you help us, and we never end up getting anything done so he wouldn’t let me.” Fred is blushing like crazy and Y/N can’t help but smile.

“I’m just messing with you,” she chuckles, her stomach full of butterflies. “So, you’ve been thinking about what to get me, hm? Any ideas?”

“Oh loads,” Fred says, his thumb starting to rub circles on her ankle. “But nothing seems quite right.”

Y/N rolls her eyes. “Just get me what you do every year. A card that explodes and scares the shit out of me and a chocolate frog.”

Fred shakes his head. “No, it needs to be something, special. Your birthday gift to me this year was special, so I need to do something even better.”

“It wasn’t that big of a deal,” Y/N says softly, looking away from Fred. Fred and George had taken advantage of the Triwizard Tournament and had spent the days leading up to each task taking bets and sacking away the money they made for their shop. Y/N knew that Fred wouldn’t straight up take any money from her, so she had gifted him a Galleon on his birthday, insisting that it was an investment in what she knew would be a successful business.

“Yes, it was,” he insists, pinching her ankle so she’ll look up at him. “Most everyone thinks we’re mental for putting everything we have into something that may never be successful, except for you. You’ve always believed in George and I, since the first prank we ever pulled. So yeah, maybe it was just a Galleon, but it was the meaning behind it that made it special.”

“Okay, no need to be so mushy,” she teases, trying to ignore the feeling Fred’s words give her. Fred is your friend she reminds herself. It’s normal for friends to say that kind of stuff to each other. And it’s normal to feel lightheaded when they do.

Fred laughs. “Fine, don’t take my compliment. I’m still going to do something special for your birthday. Whether you think you deserve it or not.” Fred squeezes her ankle again before standing up. “Alright I’ve gotta get back to George, I was only supposed to be going to the toilet.”

Y/N lays back against her pillows as Fred leaves her room, a dopey smile on her face as she tries to deny the fact that George may have been right all along.

-

Y/N watches as Fred shuffles the stack of cards, looking far too pleased with himself. Since their conversation in her room the other night, Fred has been making more of an effort to spend time with Y/N. They’ve been playing exploding snap with Ron and George for the past 45 minutes, and Fred has somehow managed to win every game.

“Take a picture, Y/N, it’ll last longer,” Fred teases, bringing Y/N out of her thoughts.

“Don’t know why anyone would want a picture of your ugly mug,” Ron pipes up, causing Y/N to laugh.

Fred hits Ron upside the head. “I don’t see anyone fawning over you either, git. Y/N’s been staring for a good five minutes, clearly she’s entranced by my beauty.”

“Oh, in your dreams, Weasley. I’m keeping an eye on you, there’s no way you’ve been winning by pure luck. You’re up to something and I’m going to figure it out,” she says, sticking her tongue out at him.

Fred winks at her. “Sure sure, whatever you say, dear.”

“Just deal the damn cards,” George groans, clearly annoyed by their antics. “Flirt with each other later.”

Y/N watches as Fred deals the cards to them all, trying to detect any signs of deception. She frowns when nothing appears to be out of order. They play normally for a few minutes, but Y/N’s suspicion that Fred is cheating returns as he quickly pulls ahead.

“How? How are you doing it?” Y/N asks 20 minutes later as Fred celebrates another win.

“I told you, I’m not cheating. It’s okay to be jealous of my success, Y/N. You’ll get better the more you play,” Fred teases with a wink.

Y/N groans. When Fred goes to grab the cards to shuffle again, Y/N slaps her hand on top of them. “If you’re not cheating then you won’t mind if I shuffle this time,” she smirks. Fred sputters as he tries to think of a reason why Y/N shouldn’t shuffle. “I knew it! You’re charming the cards aren’t you?”

“No, of course not,” Fred says quickly, a sheepish smile on his face.

“I knew it!” Y/N shouts. “You’re a dead man, Fred Weasley!”

Fred gets up and runs around the room, Y/N following close behind him. Y/N manages to catch up and she jumps on his back, Fred’s hands automatically gripping her thighs, so she doesn’t fall.

“Do I even want to know?” Hermione asks as she steps into the room.

Fred has thrown Y/N onto the couch and is tickling her mercilessly, while George and Ron look on in disgust.

George shakes his head. “No, probably not.”

-

“There’s the birthday girl,” Sirius says with a smile as Y/N enters the kitchen. “Happy birthday.”

“Thanks, dad,” Y/N says as Sirius envelops her in a hug.

She takes a seat next to Fred when they part, a blush forming on her cheeks when he puts his arm around her and pulls her into his side. “Good morning to you too, doofus,” she teases, piling some pancakes on her plate.

“How does it feel to be an old woman?” Fred teases, causing George to laugh.

“I can’t believe our little Y/N is already so grown up,” George says playfully, pretending to wipe away a tear.

Y/N rolls her eyes as she drowns her pancakes in syrup. “You’re both insufferable, do you know that?”

Remus enters the kitchen then, a large smile on his face. “Didn’t expect to see you up so early.” He pauses behind Y/N to ruffle her hair and press a kiss to the top of her head. “Happy birthday, Y/N.”

“Thanks Remus,” she says, flicking Fred in the ear as he laughs.

“I can’t believe you’re 17 already. Seems like just yesterday your mother was laying on the beach refusing to believe she was in labor,” Sirius muses with a smile as Remus sits down.

Remus chuckles. “I remember that. I think you sent me 15 owls in the span of 45 minutes.”

“Well I was in full on panic mode, Moony. I thought Marlene was going to give birth right in the sand!”

Y/N feels like her cheeks are on fire as Fred and George snicker to themselves. “Okay, can we please talk about something that isn’t my birth? Literally anything else I’m begging.”

“Potty training, then? Because boy do I have some stories about that,” Remus teases, a laugh falling from his lips as Y/N chucks a grape at his head. “I’m only joking, no need to start a food fight.”

The kitchen starts to fill up then as everyone starts to wake up, and Y/N is thankful that all of the heat is off of her. Y/N looks around as everyone takes a seat at the table and starts to each, idle conversations popping up all around. Y/N can’t remember a time when she felt this content. Nearly all the people she cares about are sitting around the same table, it’s like every wish she’s ever made on a birthday cake has come true.

“So, Y/N, now that you’re 17 are you going to join the Order?” Ginny asks excitedly.

Before Y/N has a chance to respond Remus chuckles. “Of course not, she’s still in school. That’s the rule, no underage wizards and no wizards that are still in school.”

“That’s not the Order’s rule,” Y/N points out as she frowns. “That’s Molly’s rule for Fred and George. I no longer have the trace and I can do magic outside of school. Therefore, I’m joining the Order.”

Remus gives her a look. “Even so we talked about this at the beginning of summer. I said no, end of story.”

Y/N puts her fork down. “No, not end of story. I was 16 at the beginning of summer, now I’m 17. I can make my own choices. And besides, Sirius said it was okay.”

“Sirius’ opinion has no bearing on the matter. I told you that you’re too young to join the Order and that’s final,” Remus scolds.

“And why does my opinion have no bearing, Remus?” Sirius asks firmly. “Last I checked Y/N is my daughter, not yours.”

The air in the room is tense, and everyone looks around, trying not to pay too much attention to the exchange between Sirius and Remus.

“She might as well be. It’s not like I haven’t sacrificed the past 15 years of my life to raise her or anything since you got yourself tossed in Azkaban,” Remus responds coldly.

Y/N stands up suddenly and everyone turns to look at her. “Sorry that I was such a burden on your life, Remus. No need to worry, I’m 17 now and I can take care of myself. I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you any longer.”

With that Y/N turns on her heel and stomps out of the kitchen, a few stray tears streaming down her face.

-

“Go away,” Y/N shouts at whoever is knocking at her door. She’s lying on her side in bed, her body curled around a pillow that she’s hugging to her chest.

“Please let me in, Y/N,” Fred pleads.

Y/N sits up and wipes away the few stray tears still running down her cheeks. With a wave of her wand the door unlocks. “Fine, come in.”

Fred pushes the door open and slowly comes in, one hand behind his back. He bites his lip as shuts the door behind him, his eyes focused on Y/N. “Are you alright?” he asks softly as he takes a seat down next to her.

“Do I look alright?” she asks, gesturing towards her disheveled appearance.

Fred smiles at her. “I dunno, you look just as beautiful as you always do”

“You’re only saying that to make me feel better,” she says lamely, lightly shoving Fred’s shoulder.

“As if,” Fred scoffs. “You always look beautiful to me, Y/N. Even after you dove headfirst into that snowbank while sledding 2nd year.”

Y/N glares at Fred, but she can’t help but smile as well. “Okay fine, I’m smiling. Are you happy now?”

“Ecstatic,” Fred teases with a wink. He pauses, reaching out to grab Y/N’s hand with his free one. “Are you okay?” he asks, his voice serious. “That was, something back there.”

Y/N shrugs, squeezing Fred’s hand. “I always forget how young Remus was when I fell into his lap. I mean he was only 4 years older than we are now and suddenly he was responsible for a toddler than wasn’t even his. I know he gave up a lot to take care of me but hearing him say it like that,” Y/N’s voice cracks as tears well up in her eyes again. “It makes me feel, I dunno, bad. Like a burden.”

“Hey, now, I’ll have none of that,” he says softly, wiping away the few tears that stream down her cheeks. “First of all, you have nothing to feel bad about. It’s not your fault that Remus chose to bring you up. And second of all, honestly, love I don’t think he meant a word of what he said. He looked so awful after you left, he was really broken up about it.”

Y/N sniffles. “Really?” When Fred nods she takes a deep breath. “I shouldn’t have pushed it either. I was kind of being a brat,” she admits, sticking her tongue out at Fred when he nods in agreement. “I should go apologize.”

Y/N moves to get up, but Fred tightens his grip on her hand. “Wait, not yet.”

“What now?” Y/N groans, squeezing his hand back to let him know she’s only kidding.

“I know it’s a little too early for presents but,” he says as his other hands comes from behind his back. There’s a medium sized black box in his hand, with a big red bow right in the middle. “I can’t wait any longer to give it to you and I figured it’d make you feel better.”

“Fred,” Y/N gasps, a pink blush appearing on her cheeks to match the one on Fred’s. “I told you just to get me a chocolate frog.”

“And I told you I was going to get you something special,” he responds cheekily. He pushes the box into her hand. “Open it.”

Y/N releases Fred hand so she can open the box, her eyes not leaving his. When Fred gives her a nod of encouragement she looks down at the box, a small gasp leaving her lips. “Oh Fred.”

Inside the box is a delicate silver chain, with a silver charm in the shape of an F hanging from it. Y/N’s fingers ghost over the chain lightly, trying to find the right words to express how much she loves it. Emotions are bubbling up in her mouth, threatening to spill out everywhere and her heart is fluttering in her chest.

“Do you like it?” Fred asks nervously.

“Like it?” Y/N asks as she looks back up at Fred. “I love it Fred, it’s gorgeous. It was worth all the thinking you put into it, it’s perfect.”

Fred smiles at Y/N. “Well I settled on this particular piece of jewelry because I was able to get a matching one pretty easily.” Y/N gives Fred a look of confusion, and he chuckles as he reaches a hand into the collar of his shirt. He pulls out a necklace that looks identical to the one in Y/N’s hand, but the charm that hangs off of it is the first letter of her name.

“I charmed them, so when you touch the F on your necklace, the letter on mine warms up and when I touch the letter on mine, the F on yours does the same. That way whenever I’m thinking of you or you’re thinking of me, we can touch our charms and let the other know,” he explains softly.

“Fred that,” Y/N swallows thickly. “That is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard in my life.”

Fred clears his throat and grabs Y/N’s hand again. “It’s looking more and more like George and I aren’t going to be completing our final year at Hogwarts.” Y/N goes to say something, but Fred puts a hand up to stop her. “With the money that we made last year and the money that Harry gave us from the Triwizard tournament we were able to rent out a place in Diagon Alley. We’re still gonna start the year, it’ll give us time to test our products and start to build up a customer base, but we already decided that we’re not going to finish the year.”

Fred releases Y/N’s hand so he can cup her cheek instead. “And I can’t leave you there at Hogwarts without there being some way for me to tell you when I’m thinking of you. Because Y/N you are constantly on my mind. You are the first thing I think about in the morning and the last thing I think about before I go to sleep at night. You’re my everything. You’re my voice of reason, you’re my source of comfort, you’re my best friend and,” Fred pauses, taking a deep breath. “And you’re the love of my life.”

“Fred,” Y/N breaths.

Y/N is so overwhelmed with emotion that she can’t find the words to express everything that Fred means to her, so she does the next best thing. Y/N tentatively leans forward and lightly brushes her lips against Fred’s. Taking the hint, Fred presses their lips together in a heated kiss. Their lips move together softly, and when Fred pulls away Y/N feels lightheaded.

“I love you,” she whispers softly, kissing Fred again briefly. “At some point you became so much more than my best friend and I tried to deny it for so long, in case you didn’t feel the same. But Merlin, Fred. I am stupid, stupid in love with you.”

Fred chuckles and presses a peck to Y/N’s lips. “Thank Merlin George was right, otherwise I would have just mucked up the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” Fred pauses, taking the necklace out of its’ box. “Just don’t tell him I said that.”

“And give him the satisfaction of being right? Never,” she says with a chuckle. Y/N moves her hair out of the way so Fred can clasp the necklace around her neck. The chain is cold, and it sends a shiver down her spine. “Well, let’s see if it works then.”

“Do you doubt my abilities?” Fred teases.

As Fred grabs a hold the charm on his necklace, the F on Y/N’s starts to warm up, causing goosebumps to pop up on her chest. “Not in the slightest,” she assures, grabbing a hold of the F. Fred leans forward and presses their lips together again, both of them still desperately dripping their charms.

“To be honest with you,” George says from the doorway, looking up at Remus and Sirius. “I don’t think she’s thinking about what happened at breakfast.

Y/N and Fred laugh into each other’s mouths as Y/N fumbles around for her wand. With a wave the door slams shut. “Oh yea, there are definitely perks to being 17,” she says, pulling away from Fred’s mouth. When Fred gives her a questioning look she waves her wand again.

“What did you just cast?” he asks, allowing Y/N to pull him on top of her as she lays back on her bed.

She grins up at him, her hands gripping his neck. “A silencing charm.”

Fred presses their lips together hotly, thinking of all the non-platonic things he wants to do to Y/N.

[hb-writes]

The Walk-In Appointment

Summary: From the Little Lady Blinder universe. Clara learns to walk a bit later than her twin, but once she does there’s no stopping her from following her big brother around wherever he goes. Set in May 1909.

Characters: Tommy Shelby, Ada Shelby, Arthur Shelby, Polly Gray, and Clara Shelby

Warnings: Swearing

Hope you enjoy this little piece since the next chapter isn’t coming yet. This was inspired by the lovely @cecii22me​’s ask and I’m so absolutely softened by the idea of Clara learning to walk and chasing around her ‘Ta’ / ‘TaTa’ as that’s what I’ve decided she’d call Tommy before she could get the whole name out properly.

-----

Ada stood her little sister up on her feet, holding her small hands as she encouraged a bit of walking. Clara humored Ada for a few steps, always did so, but lowered herself to the ground as soon as Ada tried to pull her hands away.

Finn took his first steps a few months before his twin sister, toddling around on the first floor and out into the shop if they left the doors open with little care for his own safety. He’d taken the first steps while walking towards his mother’s outstretched arms, the baby’s smiling face as he moved towards her a bright spot in what had come to be some tiring and difficult days for the woman. 

But five months later, Clara still hadn’t shown an interest. Since their mother’s passing, the baby had become more clingy, more likely to request a sibling’s or her aunt’s arms, searching every adult face around her for that of her missing mother. She’d crawl, when necessary, but more often stayed put, playing quietly by herself while Finn made a mess of things around her. 

Polly told her niece and nephews to not worry about Clara’s lack of steps. One toddling Shelby was more than enough to handle and each of them had walked at different times. Clara was the latest of the six Shelby children though, now three months past her first birthday. 

“Let her be, Ada,” Polly chided as Ada tried to force her younger sister up again, the toddler putting up a great protest and pulling against Ada’s hold as she tried to get back to the ground. 

Ada stopped fighting with Clara, instead pulling the girl up to rest on her skinny hip. “Finny walked ages ago, Clara. Don’t you want to walk?”

“Your sister will walk when she’s ready,” Polly answered. “I can’t imagine why you’re surprised she’s just as stubborn as the rest of you.” 

Ada kissed her sister’s cheek and Clara settled against Ada’s chest for a moment, her little version of a hug.

“You’re not stubborn, are you, lovey? You’re just a sweet little thing.” Ada rubbed her sister’s back. “A sweet little lovey who wants to try walking for sissy one last time.”

Ada set Clara on her feet at the moment Tommy walked through the front door, disturbing the peace of the front room as he let it slam behind him. 

Tommy passed his aunt and sisters without a word on his way to the shop, ignoring the baby’s incessant repeating of his name, a continuous stream of ‘Ta Ta Ta Ta’ growing louder as he disappeared from her view. 

Ada released her sister’s hands to cover her ears, anticipating the unrelenting shriek that had become commonplace when the baby didn’t get what she wanted, but it didn’t come. Clara continued chanting after Tommy, taking her first steps as she shouted after her brother.

Polly glanced up from the paper at Ada’s excited squeal.

“I told you she’d walk when ready,” she offered, setting the paper aside and standing up.

Clara tumbled at the threshold to the shop, falling back on her bottom. Ada stepped forward to help her sister only to be stopped by Polly’s hand on her wrist.

Clara’s face scrunched up as she tugged on the thick curtains using them to stand up and gripping them until she was safely over the threshold. 

Clara’s shouting for Tommy grew louder as she stepped into the shop, her little voice trying to overcome the volume of the scattered conversations taking place. Despite not clearly seeing Tommy, she took no deviations in her route as she headed towards Arthur’s office, the only place she’d ever come in the shop, always carried there on someone’s hip to visit the oldest Shelby brother. 

Tommy caught sight of her steps only because a lull in the noise of the shop caused him to back out of Arthur’s doorway and look around, his sister’s shout perfectly timed to the sudden silence of the room. 

He’d come home annoyed about some decision made about the horses, about to tell Arthur off, but he felt that anger leave him as he registered what was happening, the baby toddling towards him, her fair curls bouncing with each determined step. There was something new in her little gap-toothed smile, something in her serious uttering of the name she’d bestowed upon him months ago, the sound interspersed with her self-satisfied giggles, and it all made Tommy forget what he’d come in for in the first place because it was the most animated he’d seen the baby in months, the closest to happy he’d felt in months.

Arthur, Ada, and Polly were all watching by now, too, an almost foreign feeling which felt decidedly close to bliss swelling in them as Clara reached Tommy’s side. The baby gripped the fabric of her brother’s trousers in her small hands, tugging as she looked up to him.

“Up, Ta, up!”

Tommy leaned down to pull the girl into his arms, kissing her head. “Hello there, Clara girl.” 

“Of course her first steps would be following after you,” Ada said, her arms crossed over her chest as she leaned against one of the tables.

“Oh, don’t be jealous, Ada,” Arthur said, rubbing his finger along the baby’s cheek. “I had your first steps. It’s only fair Tommy gets Clara’s.” 

Clara put her palm to Tommy’s cheek, turning him towards her when his eyes moved to follow the conversation of their siblings.

“No, TaTa, no,” she said, her little voice sharp. “No. No. No.”

She grasped Tommy’s hand and swatted it. “No, Ta!”

Ada snorted, giggles escaping her lips as she watched the baby, her brow still furrowed despite appearing to be finished with her chastising.

“You’re in fucking trouble now, Tommy,” Arthur said, chuckling.

The handful of times the twins had picked up something they weren’t supposed to, done some little bit wrong, or put themselves in some unsafe predicament, they’d gotten a little warning tap on the hand. 

“What’s that for, my girl?” Tommy asked, trying to keep a straight face. 

“You’ve been bad, Thomas, ignored her when you came through just now,” Polly answered. “And Arthur, find better words, please. I don’t want the baby repeating that one.” 

Tommy shifted the toddler in his arms. “Is that it, my girl? Ta didn’t say hello so you decided to walk in here to let me have it?” He kissed her head. “I’m very sorry, sweet girl. I should’ve said hello.”

Clara was already cuddling into his chest, giving a hug, her little hands gripping his shirt and Tommy waited, resting his chin on her head and letting her cuddle a bit before placing her on the floor beside him. 

“Alright, you go off to Ada now or she’ll pout the rest of the evening,” Tommy encouraged, wishing he hadn’t yet started the conversation with Arthur. He’d much rather pass the hour before supper with Clara, but he had little choice in it now. 

“C’mon. Show us those big girl steps and I’ll see you for supper.” 

Clara took two steps towards her sister’s outstretched hands, turning back when Tommy stepped into Arthur’s office. 

“Ta!” she said, holding a hand out to him. 

Tommy took a deep breath, unable to hide his smile as he looked down at her.

“TATA!” she yelled, walking back to him. 

“Give me a minute, Arthur,” Tommy said, taking one of Clara’s hands, stooping a bit to one side as she led him from the shop and back to the sitting room with Ada and Polly. Tommy settled her on the floor and played with his sisters for a few moments before standing up. 

“I’ll be back,” he promised. “You stay with Ada.” 

Tommy was grateful for Ada’s distraction, grateful that they didn’t have to suffer a tantrum because he wasn’t sure he’d be able to not give in to her on it.

Tommy and Arthur were just settling in to talk when there was a banging at the office door, a firm repetition of knocks.

“Christ, can’t even have a fucking conversation in this place. Get that, Tommy, won’t you?”

Tommy stood up and pulled his brother’s door open, glancing down at the threshold to see their visitor.

“We have a walk-in appointment, Arthur.”

“A what?” Arthur asked, unable to see a thing beyond his desk. 

“A walk-in. Our Clara’s here demanding an audience.” Tommy lifted the girl into his arms.

“Well, best let her in, then,” Arthur answered. “No hope in her staying where’s she’s told now. We really are fucked.” 

“Fuck!” Clara said, the same self-satisfied grin on her face as when she’d walked towards Tommy, her giggles filling the room as Tommy and Arthur both started laughing. 

“I won’t tell Aunt Polly if you don’t,” Arthur said. 

“I don’t think it’s me you have to bargain with to keep the secret, Arthur,” Tommy answered as he settled the giggling girl on his lap.

“Fuck,” Arthur said again, covering his mouth as the three siblings dissolved into laughter once again, Tommy and Arthur finding themselves entirely incapable of returning to their previous discussion with the little girl shouting out her new favorite word every time their laughter subsided.

———

Little Lady Blinder Masterlist.

------

🏷: @midnight-dreams-23 @cecii22me @pollyrepents @mo-onstarrs

[scummy-writes]

Arthur Week Day 4: Nightmares

Rating: G

Words: 1925

Pairing: Arthur/Mc

Full fic under the cut!

『• • • ✎ • • •』

How did you get into this situation? You peeked up at Arthur as you tugged his dark blue bed sheets over your shoulder, watching the way his eyes scanned the pages of the book he held in his hands. He sat beside you, one pillow behind his back while you sleepily nuzzled into the other, trying to ignore how the scent of his cologne surrounded you.

The only light on was the lamp by the bed at the perfect height for him to comfortably read with. The warm glow helped ease your nerves, especially as it made Arthur look more… mature with the way it framed his features. Relaxing. It was almost hard to believe this was the same man that constantly, lovingly, teased all the residents. Or that this was the same man that joked time after time about whisking you away from here, to a home just for the two of you.

For a moment, his gaze dipped away from the book, meeting yours, making your heart speed up again at being caught ogling. But he just smiled, quietly shutting his book.

"You look like you're ready to fall asleep, luv."

When you nodded, shyly returning your focus on snuggling into the sheets, he set his book upon his desk. Then his glasses, rubbing his eyes for a moment.

Soon, the pads of his fingers gently brushed your bangs aside. Tucking your hair behind your ear he hummed in thought.

"Would you rather go back to your room or would you like to stay here for the night?"

You were surprised he was giving you a choice. Honestly, you thought he was about to tell you to leave. While he teased and flirted with you on occasion, none of this was the excitement he seemed to seek out each night. Instead, it was boring. Comfortable, for you at least, and… embarrassing, giving the context.

But if you had to give an answer…

"Could I stay here?"

"Of course."

The lamp clicked off not a moment after, leaving you trying to readjust to the faint moonlight from the window that stretched over the room. You had a hunch he left the curtains open for you, but you didn't voice it as he settled into bed, letting out a content sigh.

"Mmh… Hey, bird?" You let out a hum of acknowledgment, feeling his fingers ghost along your cheek in a gentle caress before thumbing the skin there. "You said you had a nightmare, right?"

Yes… Earlier in the kitchen, where he had ran into you drinking a glass of water, trying to shake off the haunting images of your dream. He had still been awake writing, given the empty mug he was carrying in and the glasses he wore, but upon seeing you he seemed to drop any further plans he had that night, trying to coax out the reason you seemed so shaken up.

Which led you here, with his chest close enough to nuzzle into if you so wanted.

"Y-yeah…"

"Do you want me to stay awake until you fall asleep?"

"No, no, you don't have to go that far."

"Mm… You're right, I don't have to. But if it made you feel better, I would without a second thought, darling."

Heat rose to your cheeks hearing his rare pet name for you. "Just… just this is enough. It's more than enough." Then quieter, but no less honest. "...Thank you, Arthur."

"Mhm, anytime, bird. I'm always up late, and if I'm not ready to sleep yet you can rest here while I write."

"That sounds really nice…"

There was a beat of silence as a soft smile played at his lips and, feeling your heart stir against your will, you tightened the sheets around your shoulders. And speaking of, you couldn't help but trail your eyes over his, and then drag them towards his chest…

Arthur seemed to read you well even in the dark. With a quiet come here, he coaxed you into cuddling up to him; gently, of course. All it took was a comforting arm around you, and you gave in, letting Arthur hug you close.

Surely it was fine to do this, right? You were still shaken up over the dreams that had plagued you tonight- of course, the thunderous ba-dum against your ribs was from that, and not from finally knowing what it felt like to be held by Arthur.

(And God, did he smell so good.)

"You know… it doesn't have to be a nightmare. Even if you're just having a bad day, you can come to me and I'll do what I can to help."

When he got like this it was nearly impossible to refrain from melting into his arms. And you seemed to anyway, feeling yourself start to fade as he began to slowly rub your back.

"Mmh… Are you sure?"

"Dove, I'd do just about anything you asked."

-

This time, you didn't wake with a start. Rather, a slow few blinks mixed with a haze of confusion. Until you took a deep breath, remembering last night with the faint smell of coffee and musk.

The sun was yet to be seen, and you wondered how long you managed to sleep. Not enough, given how tired you still felt.

Glancing up, you saw that Arthur was still asleep. You idly wondered about the dream he was having as he stirred, only pulling you into a firmer embrace.

Was this why women chased after him so much? That, aside from the promise of pleasure he made well on, he would make them feel… safe?

Though, imagining that with other women felt off, especially the few times you had witnessed him coming back the morning after; weary, slightly out of character. With the additions of Theo's murmurings to you, you almost had half a mind to think he'd only do this for you.

Almost.

The mood soured by your own thoughts, you attempted to fall back asleep to the sound of his sleepy sighs- but it felt hopeless, as your mood sunk while the sun rose.

~☆~

True to his word, Arthur apparently would do anything you asked of him. It felt silly; being an adult and still seeking comfort so late at night. But instead of nightmares haunting you, it was memories refusing to stay buried. Something you didn't realize you had in common with Arthur until later that night.

When he had answered your knock, he did seem surprised, but moreso he looked weary. His smile couldn't seem to reach his eyes as he ushered you inside, which made your cheeks burn from shame, thinking that you were truly inconveniencing him and he was just too nice to say so. (Because really, how old were you now?)

But before any hasty apologies could spill out of you he was admitting how little sleep he had gotten lately. Arthur threw out the excuse of a manuscript keeping him up, but the smell of ink was nowhere to be found, and his desk was oddly bare.

"You can go ahead and hop into bed, my dove, I'll just be a moment."

His soft words were accompanied by a gentle pat on your shoulder before he turned around, opening his dresser drawers to pick out a fresh set of pajamas. Arthur changed in his small bathroom as you crawled into his bed, already feeling your body relax at the missed comfort.

Truly, Arthur could be too kind, you thought. Despite his countless warnings of the same vice towards you, maybe he was better off worrying about himself. After all, you weren't the one who looked so worn down and ragged when finally settling into bed.

Arthur spared a strained smile your way once the lights were out, the moonlight once again providing a soothing atmosphere.

"I may end up falling asleep first this time. I hope you'll forgive me for that."

"I’ve already told you that you didn't have to stay up for my sake, Arthur. I'll be okay." You stalled for a moment before inching closer, gingerly resting your hand on his side, "just being with you is enough for me."

"Mm…" His exhaustion showed with his lazy and crooked smile that made your heart flutter as he pulled you into his embrace, nuzzling against your hair, "be careful, bird, you'll lead me to believe that's under a different context."

The tease was meant to provoke a flustered reply, but you stayed silent, cheeks glowing as you imagined the context he was referring to.

-

You awoke to panting. Honestly, you almost fell back asleep immediately, and the only reason you didn't was due to the jolt that seemed to go through Arthur. And in just a blink, you were pushed off his chest rather abruptly, causing you to scramble to sit up.

Impulsively, you cut on the bedside light, just to be greeted by a shame-stricken Arthur. His eyes wavered with something you couldn’t quite catch, and then he was looking elsewhere, chest heaving as apologies stumbled out from him.

"Just- just a nightmare, luv. I-I didn't mean to wake you, not like that."

Drowsiness still taking hold of most of your thoughts, you nodded along, letting yourself catch your breath from the sudden start. And then you ran his words through your head again, frowning.

What nightmare had brought forth such a startling reaction?

Judging by the embarrassment still clouding his features- and his outright refusal to look you in the eye- it didn't seem like one he would be too keen on sharing. For an idle moment, you let yourself consider what would keep him awake at night, and how different the causes might be from your own.

The thought has you easing yourself under the covers again, hesitantly reaching for his arm and thumbing the patch of skin under his sleeve, muttering.

"… I'm here for you too, you know?"

Arthur’s breath stopped as he processed the words, shyly glancing your way.

"W-we don't have to talk about it, unless you want to that is, but…" Your cheeks burned, "you're always willing to ease my fears. Let me do the same?"

Arthur’s scoff almost made you recoil until he spoke, "rather sore I've let you see me in such a state," and then another look your way, "... but I do appreciate it, luv."

Wordlessly, you lifted your arm up- just enough for him to snuggle into your embrace with a self-deprecating chuckle against your shoulder.

"Thank you. For feeling sympathy for such a sorry bloke as myself."

“It’s okay to need a little help now and then, Arthur.”

His deep sigh gusted against your neck, making your cheeks burn further while you focused on his words,“... I do need that reminder now and again.”

“I’ll be here to give it to you,” Gingerly, you rubbed his back, thankful when he let himself relax into your hold, “... whenever you need.”

“Mm… Thank you, darling. I really mean it.”

There wasn’t much more to be said. Arthur only mumbled a few more tired apologies for his dazed behavior, and then he was fast asleep in your arms, his slow breathing helping lull your eyes closed.

True to his word, Arthur had been exhausted, and now the reason behind that was clear. Whether or not this same reason was behind other nights you saw of him in such a state was unclear, but… Hopefully, as he had been doing for you, you could ease his troubles and help him during those moments.

At least a little, right?

-------

Day four of Arthur Week! *wheezes* this was originally supposed to be longer but, ah... you all know the ol song and dance by now o|-< things didn't come out like I wanted and this is what I made do with.

Arthur is a godawful flirt, but I always appreciate the moments of genuine kindness he has, in or out of his route. Shows a Lot about him.

Thanks for reading!

Masterlist | Ikevamp Server

Tag list (I remembered this time!):

@aeoncryptic @kodzukenspie @anianakin @judgemental-seal @shookspearewrites @cauldroncatx @stehkotori @niintendoqs @otomefoxystar @blu-tigerr @jazzellen @cinnatwisted @buswilligan @tacogawa @kim-stitches @passionatebooklover @rinringo23 @aurora-morning @ike-simp @kimmy-banana

As always, let me know if you'd like to be added or removed! Thank you!

[queenxxxsupreme]

Hello! May I please request something with a reader who's hosea's daughter and she starts a romantic relationship with either Charles or Arthur? (I can't decide I love those both those boys too much)

AN: Hi babe! I chose Arthur for this! 

Warnings: implied smut

***

The moon hung high in the night sky and thousands of stars littered the empty space surrounding it. There wasn’t a cloud to be seen. 

Cicadas and crickets chirped. Raccoons chattered from high up in treetops. Occasionally there was the sound of a coyote as it strayed too close to camp then scurrying away upon realizing that there were people nearby. 

You made your way through camp, finishing your braid over your shoulder. 

Everyone was settling down for the night after having a few drinks. 

You moved towards the tent you shared with Karen and Sadie when a hand suddenly wrapped around your mouth from behind. An arm latched around your waist. Panic was just about to set in when you heard his voice in your ear. 

“Easy there, pumpkin.” Arthur whispered. “Don’t want anyone to hear you.”

He let you go but held on to your wrist as he tugged you around to the backside of the wagons. 

“Arthur Morgan!” You whispered his name loudly, hitting his arm. “Don’t you do that again! I almost had a heart attack!”

“Shh.” He chuckled, holding a finger to his lips. His hands found your hips and he backed you up against the wagon. “Don’t want anyone to hear you.”

You grabbed fistfuls of his shirt, pulling him down to kiss him. He pinned your hips against the wagon with his own then brought his hands up to cup your face. 

“Let’s go for a ride.” Arthur pulled away from you, his hand finding your wrist once more. He started to pull you away from the wagon but you stopped him. 

“What has gotten into you tonight, Arthur?” You asked him, a little smile playing on your lips. You enjoyed his playful moods, but they were rare and it wasn’t often that they came about. Usually it only happened when he was drinking. 

“I just wanna spend time with you without worryin’ about anyone, pumpkin.” He tugged on your hand. 

“And you wanna go for a ride?”

“Yeah.”

“How much have you had to drink?”

“How much could you taste?” He countered. You rolled your eyes. 

“I’ll only go with you if you let me control the horse.” 

“Oh, pumpkin. Come on. I wanna take you somewhere.” 

“You can tell me directions.”

“Fine.” He grumbled. “Come on.” 

Arthur guided you across camp to his horse. He helped you up onto the saddle and then got up onto the back of the horse himself. 

***

Slipping past Bill on guard duty was easy. 

The place Arthur took you to was just on the other side of the border of Lemoyne and New Hanover. The spot was along the shore of Flat Iron Lake. 

“What’s special about this place?” You looked over your shoulder to Arthur as you brought the horse to a stop in the grass. 

“Huh?”

“You said the spot was special. What’s special about it?”

“Well…. it’s away from camp.” He held his hand out for you. You got down from the horse and passed him the reins. He tethered the horse to a tree so it could eat grass while the two of you went closer to the water. 

Arthur held his hand out for you again, making a grabbing motion. You furrowed your brows together before putting your hand in his. 

He walked alongside you with your fingers laced together. 

“I been doin’ a lotta thinkin’.” 

“Uh-oh.” You giggled. “Should I be worried?”

“Yeah, probably.” He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. 

Arthur was silent for a few moments, so you looked over at him. He was looking out over the lake. 

“Arthur, what is it?” You stopped walking and turned to face him. 

He shook his head, eyes flickering down to his boots. 

“It-It’s nothin’. Just stupid thoughts.” 

“It ain’t stupid if it’s got you thinkin’ so hard I can see the smoke coming out of your ears.” You reached up to cup his jaw. You brushed your thumb along his cheek. “Come on. It’s just me. You can say whatever it is you’re thinking to me.”

His eyes met yours and he nodded, a little smile tugging at his lips. 

“I…. Y/N, I want whatever it is we got…. I want it to be real.”

You furrowed your brows together, tilting your head to the side a little. 

“I thought…. Well, I guess I thought it was real.” Your voice was quiet. 

“No, not like that.” He shook his head. “I meant that I-I want to be real. To have a real…. a real thing with you.”

A smile spread across your lips as you realized what Arthur was struggling to say. 

“A real relationship, Arthur Morgan?” 

He nodded his head. 

“Now I-I put a lotta thought into it. Even talked it over with Charles. He’s a smart feller.” 

“He is. You want this?” 

“I want you.” Arthur slipped his arm around your waist and pulled you against him. “I ain’t felt that way about somebody in a long time.” 

“Only if you’re sure–,”

“I am sure.” He cut you off, pressing a kiss to the corner of your lips. “Is this what you want?”

“Yes.” You answered without hesitation, holding his gaze. “Yes.”

“Okay then.” He grinned, large hands slipping down to your backside. 

***

The sun was just beginning to peak over the horizon when you and Arthur returned to camp. You parted ways where the horses were hitched, leaving with only murmurs of goodbyes. It was bad enough you’d spent the entire night out. You didn’t need to risk being caught just yet. You’d tell everyone when you were ready. But neither of you saw Hosea Matthews–your father–watching from the opposite side of camp as you slipped into your tent. 

Arthur wasn’t very fond of romance from the get-go, and being that you were Hosea’s daughter made him ever more hesitant to start anything with you. However, that changed when he got to know you better. 

Being that you didn’t grow up in the Van Der Linde Gang, you didn’t know the outlaw the way everyone else did. 

Though Hosea was your father, he didn’t raise you. He and his late wife and your mother, Bessy, had agreed that the life they had wasn’t suitable for a baby. So they gave you to Bessy’s sister and brother-in-law so that you could be raised in a proper setting and have a chance at a good life. Hosea and Bessy made sure to visit you when they could, and even after Bessy passed away Hosea continued to visit you and let you know that he cared about you. He wanted what was best for his only daughter. He didn’t want you to have the same life as him or to be subjected to the horrors he had faced.

But here you were, the newest member of the Van der Linde Gang. 

***

You managed to only get a couple hours of sleep before Karen nudged you awake, warning you that Susan would be by to raise hell if you weren’t up soon. 

You got dressed and went out to get a cup of coffee. You spotted Hosea sitting at a table reading through a newspaper, so you decided to join him. 

“Good morning, Hosea.” You greeted. 

“Good morning, dear.” He gave you a smile. “How’d you sleep?” 

“Not too bad. I’m getting used to the nighttime noises so I’m not waking up so much. Anything interestin’ in there?”

“Not yet.” 

“Mornin’, Hosea.” Arthur crossed through camp, heading for his tent. “Mornin’, Y/N.”

“Good morning, Arthur.”

“Good morning, Arthur.” You smiled just a little before looking down at your coffee. 

You wanted to tell Hosea about you and Arthur. Now that things were serious between you two, it felt like you needed to tell him. Before, you were just flirting and messing around. There was no need for anyone to know what was happening because it was just two grown adults keeping each other company. But now…. Now it was different. 

You sat with Hosea for a bit, chatting about what was in the newspaper. 

Then you noticed a group began to form around the horses that consisted of Javier, Charles, Arthur, Sean, and John. 

“What are you staring at, sweetheart?”

You turned your head look at Hosea. You didn’t realize you were staring. 

“Nothing, Hosea.”

He looked in the direction you had been staring in. 

“Which one is it?”

“What?”

“Which one of them numbskulls were you gawking at?”

“None of them.”

“I don’t believe that for a second.” He shook his head, eyes lingering on you. When you made no effort to carry on the conversation, he reached into a pocket on his vest to check the time. “Your mother used to get that same look in her eye when she saw somethin’ in a shop window she wanted.”

Curious, you glanced up from your coffee which you had been staring at rather intently. You weren’t really reading anyways. 

“She would?”

“She would.” Hosea nodded, a fond smile coming to his lips as his eyes left you to look out over the lake behind you. “And usually, I’d go back to the shop some time later when she wasn’t with me and steal it for her.”

“How romantic.”

“She thought so.” He chuckled. “She certainly knew how to put up with me and my antics. But she was about as good of a liar as you are, my dear.”

You put the book down on the table.

“I really wish you’d stop reading me like I’m one of your marks.”

“I can’t help it, sweetheart. It’s a bad habit. A very bad, nasty habit.” Hosea turned his head to look at the group of men gathered around the horses. “I don’t think it would be John. He’s far too dim for you. But if we go by brains, I don’t think any of them have a lick of sense. Well, except for Charles.” Hosea paused to gauge your reaction. You kept your lips pressed together in a firm line, adamant on not giving him any reaction. “If it was Bill Williamson, I’d be disappointed in you.”

“Ew, no.”

“Good girl. Javier?”

You didn’t answer.

“Hmm. Arthur perhaps?”

You shifted in your seat and took a small breath. The actions didn’t seem that big, but apparently they meant something to Hosea. 

The con-man leaned back in his seat, rubbing the back of his neck as he let out a little sigh. 

“That dimwit, Y/N?”

“He’s not a dimwit, Hosea.”

“I swear, Y/N, I’ve seen fish with more sense than that boy.”

“Hosea.”

“I’m serious. Me and Dutch were real concerned about him. Well, that was until John came along. Made Arthur look a goddamn genius.”

You stood up and picked up your coffee cup. 

“Sweetheart, I didn’t mean to offend you.” Hosea put his hand out to stop you. “I know you’re sweet on him. I saw you coming back into camp together this morning.” 

Your eyes immediately met his, panic finding its way into your veins. Then you looked over to Arthur. Did your father know what you were doing with Arthur while you were gone? 

“I’m a little hurt neither of you told me, but I know why you kept it to yourselves. This camp ain’t the place for romance.”

“Hosea.” You whispered, eyes meeting his once more. “Don’t…. Don’t let Arthur know that you know, okay? I-I think he wanted to tell you himself. We just…. We didn’t want everyone here to know, and he’s…. Arthur’s a funny guy when it comes to being sweet on a lady.”

“Oh, I know. He’s had his heart broke real bad before. Don’t you think about breakin’ it, you hear? You’re my daughter so I’ll be sure to tell him the same, but he’s like a son to me, you know.”

“I know, Hosea. Don’t worry. I have no intentions of hurting him.”

“Good.”

Taglist:  @winterwolf @doggone-cowgirl @lauramb7 @caraqas @bluscryn @nonodino @krenee1drful @thefirelordm @sargeantsea @sokkasdarling @thecollection @mayday1284  @kashasenpai

If your name is in italics, it wouldn’t let me tag you :(

[kalimagik]

Strawberry

Fred Weasley x Pregnant!Reader

Word Count: 5k

Requested by @coffee-wihtout-caffeine​ - “Can I request Fred x reader where it’s throughout her pregnancy with supportive Weasley family? Like the entire pregnancy just bits through each month and dealing with the symptoms. Tia”

A/N: I had SO much fun writing this. I was so excited the whole time (i love babies and think pregnancy is beautiful, so I may have gotten carried away). It’s super fluffy, has something for each month, and a whole lot of cute Fred and a supportive Weasley family! It’s not my usual writing style, but still so fun. Feedback is always welcome! Comment, like, reblog! Happy Reading <3 (also, I got too excited to wait til tonight to post it, so its coming early)

Month 1

It had to be the stomach flu, what else could it be? Fred left you in bed that morning after you spent most of the night with your head over the toilet. You racked your mind, trying to figure out where you would have caught the stomach flu. That’s when it hit you. Running to the nearest convenience store, you bought the tests, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible.

You looked at the pregnancy test again and the other 3 that sat on the vanity, all positive. No, you and Fred weren’t trying for a baby, but you weren’t not trying either. A baby…you were going to have a baby, Fred’s baby.

The butterflies in your stomach were going to have a roommate. The thought made your lips curl into a grin as you looked into the mirror. A baby! Now you just had to tell Fred. Knowing you had a few hours, you rushed around the house like a mad woman. The rest of the day consisted of picking up, making dinner, and making yourself look presentable and not like you had spent most of the day in bed. The day also included throwing up every now and then, but you were actually kind of excited each time because it was just a reminder of the little boy or girl growing in your stomach.

When Fred walked through the door, you had your favorite “Love Songs” playlist playing, the dinner table set, and candles lit throughout the entire flat. “Is someone feeling better?” Fred called out above the music.

“Freddie! I’m in here,” you sang, still cleaning up pots and pans from dinner.

“What is all of this?” Fred asked, eyes widening at the sight laid out in front of him. “Did I forget an anniversary or something?” he chuckled, knowing very well that he didn’t. “This is wonderful, love. But, what did I do to deserve this?”

“Just sit down and you’ll find out!” You beamed, bringing Fred’s favorite food to the table, his mother’s meatballs with onion sauce with a treacle tart and cream puffs on the side for dessert.

“24 hour stomach flu pass?”

“Uhhh, for the most part,” you skirted around the subject a bit. You had a plan to tell him about the baby.

Dinner went by with your usual conversations about the day, the shop, and how George and the rest of the Weasleys were doing. When tart had been dished out, you stood up from your seat and went behind the couch to get your little gift.

“Okay, what is going on?” Fred asked, now confused as to why he got his favorite dinner, dessert, and now a present. “Did you do something I should be angry about? Did someone else do something that I should be taking credit for?”

“No, silly,” you giggle, sitting the present in front of him. “Just open this!” You watch him intently while standing as he takes the tissue paper out of the bag and unwraps the first little gift. The white tissue paper fell to the floor as he unfolded a little white onesie that read “I solemnly swear I am up to no good.”

“What’s this for? I’m not going to be an uncle or something am I? Is George around here trying to punk me?”

You just shook your head, an amused, close lipped smile set on your face. “Open the next one.”

Fred stuck his hand back into the small, blue bag and pulled out the long box that had probably once held a bracelet. When he pulled the lid off, there was the 4th and final positive pregnancy test that you had taken earlier in the day. Fred looked up at you, eyes wide. The hand not holding the box with the test reached for the onesie as he put two and two together.

“Are you- Is this? Does this mean-” You just nodded as he stumbled over his words.

“I’m pregnant,” you told him with a laugh/cry. Honestly, you weren’t sure what the noise was, but it was a happy one. Fred flew out of his seat so quickly to embrace you that his chair fell to the floor with a loud clatter.

“You’re pregnant?” he asked again once he finally let you go and stopped kissing your face. You could only nod as the happy tears streamed down your face. “Oh, I guess I shouldn’t hug you so hard. Wouldn’t want to hurt the little lad or gal would I?”

“I think the little Weasley will be okay,” you smirk, hugging Fred a little tighter.

“So when can I tell George?”

You laugh as you kiss Fred’s cheek. “Not just yet, darling. Let’s see a doctor first”

Month 2

“So I can tell Georgie right after this right?” Fred asked as you sat in a room at St. Mungo’s waiting for the doctor.

“I enjoy you pretending to wait for my permission when I know you already told him,” you laugh, squeezing Fred’s hand while he helps you onto the chair for the mothers to be. “He was not very subtle when I came by the shop the other day. He was talking about inventing baby friendly products for the shop.” You rolled your eyes sarcastically at the memory.

“Okay, I may have apparated to our little flat above the shop where he was at the time after you fell asleep the night that you told me.” He pouted, looking for forgiveness from you.

You had to stifle your giggles when the doctor knocked on the door to let you know that she was entering.

“Good afternoon Y/N,” she smiled at you as she pulled out the contraption for looking at the baby’s growing form. “I see you have Fred Weasley with you again.”

The last appointment, he may or may not have dropped a dung bomb that made its way into his jacket pocket accidentally on their way out.

“Hello there, Dr. Woodson,” Fred grimaced. “Good to see you again. Don’t worry, I double checked my pockets before coming this time.”

“Very good,” your doctor nodded curtly. “Well then, let’s get started, shall we?”

Your doctor talked you through the images that you and Fred saw on the screen. “Your baby is now about the size of a pomegranate seed since you’re in the 6th week,” she finished. You sat and watched in awe. The baby was so much bigger than just a few weeks ago when you were in for the first visit that confirmed your pregnancy. “Do you have any questions for me?” Dr. Woodson asked at the end of the appointment.

You shook your head, already having read all about it in the pregnancy books you had bought a few weeks earlier. Fred was the one to pipe up. “So, my brother’s wife was pregnant a year ago or so, and she got really, really cranky. Is my wife going to do that too?”

“Fred?!” you scoffed, playfully slapping him in the arm.

“You see, it’s already starting a little bit and I was just wondering how bad it will actually get.” He continued ignoring you.

Your doctor chuckled slightly before she stood up with your charts in hand. “It was good to see you both again. Y/N, you can schedule your next appointment at the front desk on your way out. Send me an owl if you have any questions or concerns.”

After saying goodbye, Fred helped you off the chair, even though he didn’t have to, and you dressed back into your clothes that were not yet maternity wear, but starting to get a little snug in some areas.

“All ready, love?” he asked after you dressed.

“Let’s go.”

Month 3

“Are you ready?” Fred asked as you stood at the door of his childhood home. He was grinning from ear to ear. Today was the day that the two of you had decided to tell his family about the baby. You told your parents a few days earlier and they couldn’t be happier, but that was two people. Now it was time to face Fred’s parents, six siblings, and all of their significant others.

“Very ready,” you smiled back. Fred had been sitting on the edge of his seat for nearly a month whenever you visited. It was the end of your third month and therefore an appropriate time to start telling the family.

“Mum! We’re here!” Fred called out as he opened the door.

“OHHH! Y/N, Fred! Welcome. I’m so happy you both could make it!”

“We always come for Sunday night dinner, Mrs. Weasley,” you laughed while being buried into one of her notorious bear hugs.

“Woah there, mum. Don’t want to crush Y/N and our-” Fred cut himself off before he let the word ‘baby’ slip. Luckily, Molly was a blur around the house that she hadn’t even noticed. After giving Fred a quick hug, she called up to the rest of the family and feet began stampeding down the stairs.

“Wow, it is getting a little crowded in here,” you laughed as you hugged Ginny, Hermione, George, Ron, Harry and then Bill, Charlie, Fleur and little Victoire. “Even Teddy is here!” you smiled as you hugged the 3 year old with bright blue hair.

“The more the merrier is our motto!” Arthur Weasley boomed as he came into the kitchen as well.

“It’s a good thing that you think that way, dad!” Fred beamed, sharing a quick glance with George. At this rate, the family was going to learn the news before everyone even sat down for dinner.

Pre-dinner chats ensued and then Mrs. Weasley called them all from the living room to the table. That’s when she started handing out the wine. She had decided it was a special occasion because EVERYONE was at dinner. Bill and Fleur were in France the previous week and Charlie was back from Romania for a period of time. Even Percy managed to pull himself away from his busy work life. You looked at Fred with a small, close lipped smile, letting him know that it’s time to spill the news. Everyone would find out soon enough when you refused the wine.

You took your seat next to Fred with Ginny on your other side, leaning into Fred as he wrapped his arm around you and kissed your temple. Then, he cleared his throat to get the 12 other people’s attention.

“I’d like to make a toast,” he announced, raising his glass. “I can’t imagine this night being any better. Spending time with my amazing family, the extensions included,” he nodded to Harry, Hermione, and Fleur. “It’s a big family, but it’s about to get a little bigger. Currently a plum size bigger.” You nudged Fred slightly. He had been making fun of you for announcing which food your baby’s size matched each week.

“Oi, cut to the chase down there. I can’t hold it in for much longer! I’m bursting at the seams over here!” George hollered from the other end of the table.

Your smile grew as you made eye contact with Molly. You could tell she already knew what Fred was going to say, but was letting him break the news.

“Y/N and I are pregnant!” Fred’s signature grin was plastered on his face and you didn’t think that he’d been wiping it off anytime soon.

“This is brilliant!” Ginny cheered as she wrapped an arm around you. “I get to be an aunt, again!” she smiled at Victoire.

“Victoire,” Fleur got the little girl’s attention. “Yoo are going to be a couzin to a ittle boy or girl. Eesn’t zis exciting?”

“Ronald and I can babysit whenever you need a break,” Hermione offered, Ron nodding along, even though he wasn’t too sure if he wanted to be with a baby around his fiancé just yet.

The congratulations and excitement lasted all through dinner. By the end, Bill and Fleur offered you Victoire’s baby clothes if you had a girl, Arthur said he could fix up the cradle they used for all their children, Molly had already started knitting a little hat and bootie set. It was crazy and chaotic, but you loved every second of it. This was your wild family now and the wild family that your baby would get to grow up with.

Month 4

You paced around your flat with a hand on your forehead and one on your stomach. You had just gotten back from your appointment, the high of telling the Weasley family about the pregnancy two nights ago still lingering. Of course, once you went to see Dr. Woodson, the feeling changed.

-

“Oh, that’s interesting,” Dr. Woodson had said as she ran her wand over your stomach to look at the baby.

“What?” you asked. She’d never said anything like that before.

“It seems we may have missed something.” She pulled an image up. “Normally we would catch this earlier, but see that there.” She pointed and you nodded. “Well, there appears to be a second fetus and a second heartbeat that I must have missed before. Y/N Weasley, you are having twins!”

-

Laying down on the couch, you thought about what having twins would mean. Two of everything really. Fred and George’s shop was doing great again and they were acquiring Zonko’s in Hogsmeade too, so money wouldn’t technically be an issue. But, twins! They could be a little Fred and George exactly and that would be a handful. The doctor never said that they were identical necessarily, so you could have a boy and a girl.

“Honey! I’m hoooome!” Fred sang opening the door.

“With your favorite brother-in-law!” George sang after him.

Both twins sat grocery bags on the table. “What’s all this?” you asked, mind still focused on the news you got earlier in the day.

“We have decided to cook you dinner!” George said triumphantly.

You looked at the identical faces that stood before you, both grinning at you. “Fred, we’re having twins!” you blurted out at them, not able to hold it in any longer. Fred dropped the bag he was still holding, apples and oranges rolling all over the floor.

“Twins.” He said, eyes glazed over, looking past you and at the wall, where the onesie that you gave him the day you told him you were pregnant was hanging.

“You’re going to have a mini Fred and I?!” George squealed in excitement. He shook Fred’s shoulders, bringing him back to the present.

“That we are!” you smiled, appreciating the enthusiasm. “Well maybe, we could have girls, or a girl and a boy. We won’t know until the end of next month,” you explained, rambling.

That’s when Fred went into total care mode. “Do you need to sit down? You should be sitting down. Mum always complained about what Georgie and I did to her body and how hard carrying twins was.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at him. “Freddie,” you giggled, “maybe YOU should sit down!”

“Yes, perhaps I shall, love.” Fred plopped down onto the couch as you went into the kitchen to grab him a cup of water. “Twins, wow.” You heard him breathe out in the living room.

“He is happy about it, just processing,” George whispered to you as he started to put your groceries away.

“I know,” you smiled, “he is going to make a great dad!”

Month 5

Your stomach was really bulging at this point. Two little ones growing in there. You were beyond excited as you slid on a maternity dress with sunflowers plastered all over it. It had become your favorite dress, comfortable, stretchy, it had pockets. But, today, you put it on for your gender reveal party. Originally, you and Fred were going to wait and be surprised by the sex of the babies, but Molly and even George changed your minds.

They agreed that once they received the news, Dr. Woodson would write the genders on pieces of paper, seal them in an envelope, and send them with an owl to Molly. Now, you were getting ready for that party. You were more going along with Fred when you originally said you’d wait to find out the sexes, but now you were giddy!

“Love, are you ready? Everyone is downstairs,” Fred knocked on his childhood door as he opened to take in the room that hadn’t changed in years. You followed Fred down the stairs, him holding your hand the whole way to ensure that you didn’t trip down the stairs. He may be loud, boisterous, and reckless usually, but since he learned about the twins, he treated you as if you were a china doll, it was so sweet.

“Surprise!” a hoard of people called when you exited the Burrow. The Weasleys had completely decked out their yard on the spring evening. Twinkle lights flooded the area with light as the sun set to the west. Luna Lovegood and Neville Longbottom had brought in tons of flowers that surrounded the tables. All the pinks and blues were bright as can be, signifying the news that was about to be shared with everyone, even the parents.

“Merlin! It’s beautiful! Thank you,” you beamed, taking in as much of the yard at once as possible.

The party was a blast. Blue and pink food. Cute little presents left out with yellows and greens. Tons of little Gryffindor attire, even though you’d be okay with your children being in any of the houses. But the time for the reveal drew closer.

“Y/N, Fred. Stand here,” Molly ordered them. “George is out back setting everything up.”

You were shaking with excitement. Your family and Fred’s family all held sparklers that lit the darkness. The colors reflected off of your and Fred’s skin. He glanced over at you and whispered, “You’ve been glowing this whole time, but you’re really glowing now,” before leaning down and kissing your cheek.

“Everyone ready?” George called from behind the hedge. “3…2…1!”

The sky exploded with fireworks of blue and pink. Your hand flew to your mouth as you took in the sight. “We’re getting a little boy AND a little girl, Freddie,” you laughed, happy to now know. Fred hugged you tightly, leaving just enough room for your protruding belly.

“We’re having a boy and a girl,” he repeated, grinning ear to ear. Everyone let the two of you have your moment before flooding you with hugs and congratulations.

Month 6

“Psssst, Freddie.” You whispered, peaking at the clock quickly. It read 1:30 AM…oops.

“Yes, love,” Fred whispered as he yawned before turning over and lazily slinging an arm over your body.

“I’m hungry…” you said, big, pouty, pleading eyes already in place as Fred opened one of his. “Will you pleeeeease get me some chocolate covered strawberries and the cheesiest nachos you can find?”

“That is the strangest combination that I have ever heard.” Fred grunted as he pushed the blankets down. “You sure you can eat both of those things?”

So far, you had found that you could no longer even look at any kind of fish, tuna was WAY out of the question, the smell of tomatoes made you gag, and turkey was a big no go. In fact, most meat was starting to make you queasy and you could only eat it sometimes.

“It’s what I’m craving, so I think so?”

“Sounds good, love. I’ll be right back.” Fred threw on some pants and a jacket and apparated out of the flat. You laid back in your bed, feeling extremely content as you pulled the blankets up to your chin just to throw them off. You’d been going from freezing to feeling like a million degrees every few minutes.

That familiar pop could be heard as Fred brought the food to you in bed. “Nachos and chocolate covered strawberries for my beautiful, glowing wife. We can never go back to the Spanish restaurant on the corner or the market next to it ever again. You don’t want to know how angry the owners were when I woke them up.”

You had already dug into the food before Fred could undress and get back into bed again. “Are you going to save me any?” he chuckled, sliding back into the sheets.

“Yes, you can have some.” You told him, mouth full and chocolate dribbling down your chin.

“Let me run to the loo before I go to bed again,” Fred told you, getting up once more. By the time he walked back into the room, you were there fast asleep, box of chocolate covered strawberries on one side and box of nachos on the other. Fred couldn’t stop laughing as he picked up the open food and wiped off your face before kissing your forehead and pulling you close to him.

Month 7

“FRED!! It’s so hot!” you complained. You could feel the sweat sliding down every inch of your body and you felt disgusting. You felt huge and being pregnant was not fun anymore. You were big, couldn’t move easily, and your ankles had swollen to three times their normal size.

In the July heat, you just felt terrible.

“Let me get you another fan and some lemonade.” Fred offered.

“I’m sorry I’ve been so cranky with you,” you apologized to Fred when he came to sit back down next to you, handing you a glass of lemonade.

“You have every right to be cranky with me,” he smiled, kissing the side of your head as he had been doing so often now. “You’re carrying my babies. Speaking of which, we should come up with some names. It could be fun!”

You took a deep breath, trying to relax on the couch. “Yes, let’s do that!” Fred had already begun preparing the nursery and Molly and Fleur had sent over hordes of clothes. Planning was tiring you out, as fun and cute as it was, so maybe brainstorming names would be a blast.

“Now, George thinks we should name at least one of them after him. If we did that, we should name the girl Georgia because I think George would throw a fit if the girl was actually named after him. And then the boy could be Fred Jr.”

You looked dead eyed at Fred, not thinking his ‘joke’ was funny. “We are not making, no excuse me, forcing our twins to be mini-yous. Nope, not happening. Veto, next.”

“Okay, geez,” Fred chuckled as he took your hand in his own, knowing you would complain about being hot if he put his arm fully around you.

“Mhmmmm,” you thought out loud. “What about Andrew for the boy. You know, for my brother? I’d like to honor him after losing him 2 years ago in the war.”

“I think that would be nice,” Fred smiled softly at you. “Andrew it is. Andrew Weasley has a good ring to it. We can call him Drew for short too.”

“I think so too,” you agreed.

“Now, for a girl, this is a serious suggestion,” Fred prepared you. “Olivia. I’ve always liked that name.” he played with your fingers.

“Andrew and Olivia Weasley. I think it could work. That was much easier than I thought it was!” You laughed with joy.

“Fred, Y/N, Andrew, and Olivia. Our little family. You like your new names, kids?” Fred spoke to your stomach.

Month 8

“Nope, do not get out of bed!” Fred ordered after you tried to get out of bed. “Doctor’s orders. Plus, Mum is already here.”

Molly Weasley had been coming to your flat nearly every other day to help you and Fred around the house. Dr. Woodson placed you on bed rest the previous week and it was complete AGONY.

“But, Freddie, there is so much we still have to do. I can help.”

“Nope, George and I have it covered. Plus you know the rest of the family will help with whatever we need. You just sit here and rest. Liv and Drew are still growing in there.”

“Yes they are,” you giggled, rubbing your stomach. “I swear they were wrestling in there last night! They were being so active! Kicking and moving around. If these two fight during their entire childhoods, we will be in for some rough years!”

“I bet they will be best friends,” Fred smiled. “Look at Georgie and I! And, if they have any younger siblings in the future, they can team up against them.”

“I should hope not!” you scoffed. Your banter settled as Molly hurried into the room with a breakfast tray.

“Mum will take good care of you today and Ginny mentioned stopping by later, okay?” Fred told you as he kissed you goodbye. “I won’t be too late tonight. Everyone on Diagon Alley seems to know that you’re expecting, so even though business is booming, the shop is ready to be closed at closing!

“Sounds good, dear.” You replied, pushing the eggs to the side. You forgot to tell Molly that you weren’t eating those now because of the babies.

“I’ll take those for you,” Fred chuckled, eating your eggs, sipping some water, and kissing you one more time before leaving. “Have a good day!”

“Bye, hun,” you giggled again as she left. At least you had the company of all the Weasley guests throughout the days when he was gone.

Month 9

“They’re due any day, Freddie!” You squealed. You had attempted to jump a little, but that just made you have to pee, so you stopped that immediately. “When they get here, we can hold them all the time and I’ll be able to move freely!”

You had secretly begun doing the things that you hoped would speed along the delivery date. You were eating spicy foods, walking around when no one was watching you and forcing you back to bed, drinking raspberry tea, everything! Well, not everything. You had try to convince Fred to have sex with you the night before, but he refused. Said it was weird with two babies in there, even though you looked beautiful and he would love to.

You had just rolled your eyes at him in response, but you did try!

“You going to come out soon, little ones?” You asked your stomach. “At least one perk of being so large is that I can sit the box of chocolate covered strawberries on my stomach.” You hummed happily, eating another one of the treats that had been your favorites during your pregnancy.

You had eaten them so many times that Molly just started making them regularly for you so that Fred didn’t have to go buy them at all hours of the day randomly.

“Can I come to Diagon Alley with you today?” you asked hopefully. “I need to get out of this house. Everything is ready and I’ve been cooped up for too long.”

Fred stood there thinking, but you pleaded some more, getting him to finally give in. “Only if you promise to not walk around too much.”

“I promise! I’ll sit at Florean’s the whole time!” You drew and X over your heart to seal the promise.

You breathed in the air deeply as you took in the atmosphere of the Alley. The newer owners of the ice cream shop brought you more ice cream each time that you asked for some and whenever you tried to pay, they refused. Yet another perk of being pregnant.

Numerous people had walked by and chatted with you while Fred was at the shop and he came by every so often to check on you. It was a pleasant day. That was until an excruciating pain occurred in your stomach.

“Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh,” you whined, hands immediately holding your stomach. “Excuse me,” you pulled one of the waiters aside. “Would you run down to the joke shop and get my husband, please?”

The trip to St. Mungo’s was a blur. Fred was holding your hand the entire way, helping you into your hospital gown, and just being an overall sweetheart as per usual. Molly Weasley and your mum filtered in and out of the room. It wasn’t until Dr. Woodson announced that just those going into the delivery room could stay that the chaos slowed. Even if it was just you and Fred in the room, you knew that every single Weasley and Y/L/N was in the waiting room and would be until your two children entered the world.

Four hours later, you had finished pushing, you had finished working your body to exhaustion. Four hours later, you held two little babies in your arms and they were beautiful. Fred’s smile was so wide and he was so proud as he took Andrew from you and then Olivia.

“You did beautifully, darling,” he whispered, looking at the two children in his arms. The tears were still streaming down your face, stupid post-birth hormones. “Are you ready for the family? They’ll come back in small groups.” You nodded laying your head back on the pillows. It was September 8th. The day your little family had its first addition of many.

You could see the little heads of Olivia and Drew peaking over the blankets as different family members held them. Their hair was strawberry red, just like your favorite snack.

[writingisbetterthandying]

Regret - TS pt.3

Warnings: cursing, christian!reader, alcohol, death

A/N: part three! idk where this is going especially after i got so carried away last time but it’s okay it’s all good time for more angst!l

next chapter shit’s about to go down 🦭 im literally so excited

3.24.21

part 1 is here! and part 2 is here!

Word Count: 2k

- london, to say the least, felt like a world entirely different from small heath, despite their similarities and relative proximity

- just in the train station, the way of dress, the obvious wealth not exactly present with the company kept in birmingham, was quite intimidating

- you had to remind yourself multiple times though that you were still dressed and raised as if you were a member of society, or at least a semblance of that, and no matter what inner dialogue occurred, to the rest of london the only reason for you not to blend in would be the wide, curious eyes, desperate to catch every new detail

- despite the war, there still was a longing, a curiosity, the need to learn and see new things, maybe not meet too many people, as being as close to the shelby’s as one could be, there aren’t a lot of people out there who can be trusted

- you had to remind yourself how one shelby in particular had trusted you, then gone back on his word so easily

- but these wallowing thoughts were disrupted by the sight of your aunt maggie

- although being truly unsure of your actual relation to the kind older woman, you embraced one another, having not seen each other since before the war

- she always reminded you of polly, despite their differences in age, stature, and dress, but margaret always seemed to be more soothing, calming effect- not that she lacked sharp wit

- her only son had died in the war and she had been widowed for years, so her invitation had been extended for a while, and the opportunity arose

- in camden town, she had gotten you a job as a secretary at a bakery, as odd as it seemed, but promised it to be good pay, and a close walk from her home

- you made it to her home, the dark streets of camden town not totally unfamiliar, but recognizing the dangers that could arise from wandering the streets at night

- the two of you spend the whole night talking it seems, reminiscing, before she reminds you your first day of work is tomorrow

- as hasty as it may be, it was reassuring to have the distraction, something to throw yourself into

- it was quite early, and visibility was a bit low, but your spirits were high as the walk was brisk

- getting to work was easy enough, but it was quite the surprise to see that the bakery, was not indeed just a bakery

- you frowned a bit at that

- a younger man, still older than you though, waited outside

- you greeted him politely, sharing some small pleasantries

- he was handsome, but looked tired, and nervous, quite antsy

- he introduced himself as ollie and explained how your aunt maggie had great deals to say about your qualifications and trustworthiness

- despite all the questions you had, like who’s bakery is a front for a distillery?, you chose to not venture too much for you first day

- ollie started to give you a tour when a loud booming voice that came from somewhere within the large room, a quite angry loud one, almost reminiscent of arthur’s

- the thought of the eldest shelby made you smile

- you still had a smile as a rather strong-looking man came up towards you and ollie

- you had to stop yourself from staring

- it was practically the first beard you’ve ever seen! apart from that of father christmas

- in small heath, no one had a beard, and in the war, soldiers were shaved as best as they could

- bare-faced men had surrounded you your whole life, apart from mustaches and the occasional scruff, and this man had a beard!

- he had a ruggedness to him, which was frankly alluring, different from the strict way that tommy, seemingly the only man to ever occupy your thoughts in such a manner, did

- you were practically giddy at the thought, completely dismissing the strength in his voice that would make others quiver in fear

- “right then, who’s this?” he sort of mumbled out

- you politely introduced yourself and extended a hand

- he shook it, gave his name, then wordlessly turned around, then beckoned you to come follow him

- ollie, looked quite surprised at this, though you still were unsure what to say, primarily focusing on not blurting out how you admired your new employer’s beard.

- he led you to a dark office, filled with dark woods and a smoky smell that you were instantly associating with tommy

- “now ms.y/l/n, your desk will be right out there outside that door, and you’ll be takin’ me messages, as well as some notes in some meetings.”

- you nodded calmly, allowing your professionalism to seep back in. 

- definitely less involved than your past job, but that was a good thing, it gave more time to focus on london, not on shoddy business deals and guns and whatnot.

- the rhythm of work came very easily

- mainly spending time in alfie’s meetings, reading things to him and discussing paperwork

- alfie insisted that you referred to him so casually, despite your hesitance, saying that he could trust you, and that mr. solomons made him feel too old coming from your lips

- some late evenings conversations strayed

- aware of the other’s service, but never mentioning it or asking about time spent in france

- he would ask about your aunt, you would ask about cyril; the two of you were truly becoming quite close, platonically, of course, you had to remind yourself

- occasionally the two of you go to the actual bakery, and surprise one another with a special loaf or treat made from scratch

- at first, you weren’t quite sure what exactly you were handling with all of the records and contracts streaming through the office, to usually just end up in the fireplace

- it wasn’t all too unfamiliar from the races and work from up in small heath, but it never came up as the two of you spoke

- it didn’t take more than a month before you truly were let in on the realities of his business, but insisted that for your safety, your involvement wouldn’t further anymore than being his secretary

- you agreed, and told him it wasn’t unusual business, that you weren’t concerned

- he questioned this, and while you did give some vague answers of the shelby’s, they still had your trust, and you wouldn’t go blabbering about their business to just anyone, even if he was your employer

- he knew your heart had been broken.

- not that he’d ever share how he learned that sliver of information,

- but it was after a successful deal; he had let ollie go early and the two of you got drunk in his office. not even a full hour in, you were piss drunk, blubbering on about some thomas fellow, and he had to think what a shame it was, your tears wasted on some bloke

- you truly had formed a wonderful relationship, and you were starting to wonder if it would become more

- that was before the first time you had to stitch him up

- he was practically bludgeoned, and you were in awe at ollie’s ability to actually get alfie to your desk, the unsuspecting stark papers littered there sullied.

- that position brought on not only memories of the war, but remembering all the moments with the shelby boys- your brothers, you hated seeing them in pain, hated seeing him in pain, and started to distance yourself

- for almost a week you practically only spoke to ollie and aunt maggie, until one day when alfie had enough and asked you to dinner

- after some badgering, he got you to agree, and the two of you had a lovely time, but as he was dropping you off, you blurted out, 

- “alfie, tonight was wonderful, but my heart belongs to another,” 

- he knew this of course, but it didn’t stop him from blasting that tommy bloke internally

- “i understand pet, alright? no need to fret, just wanted to catch up after having my best girl ignore me for so long,” you had to snort at that

- “alfie, i'm practically the only girl in your life,” you giggled. 

- he smiled at that, happy to see your spirits high

- you continued, on a more serious note this time,

- “i truly am sorry, alfie, for ignoring you like that. it’s just that, seeing you, and having to patch you back up brought back some memories that i wasn’t ready to face, and i hated having to see you in pain.” 

- he nodded in understanding, and you believed that he truly did understand what was left unspoken

- you suddenly gave him a firm hug, startling him at first, before he embraced you back, the two of you standing there for what felt like ages

- “alright now pet, time for you to go back inside to maggie before she has my fuckin’ head.” 

- you smiled, and the two of you gave one last glance before you said proper goodbyes and he was off

- after that, the two of you found a rhythm, a relatively flirty relationship, but it still remained quite platonic, with him often coming over for dinner with maggie

- the two of you were quite content, just to have some companion that was neither a dog nor an older woman

- a few weeks passed by, and it started to turn to spring

- any available time was spent trying to chase the fleeting english sunshine, laughing around the parks with cyril and his owner

- you were coming back from the market one day, when aunt maggie was yelling for you from her home, her voice carrying out in the lane

- she never raised her voice and the urgency present had to have meant something was wrong

- you managed to not drop the basket full of vegetables as you hurried into the home

- her face gaunt, but rather unreadable

- you took the phone from her outstretched hand, frowning a bit

- “hello?”

- “y/n. it’s john.”

- john never was so serious, especially on the phone, and for him to sound so grim was extremely concerning

- “johnny, what’s wrong? what’s happened? are you hurt?” images of any one of the closest people to you, back in small heath, had you spiraling

- “it’s- it’s your brothers, love. you best be coming back to small heath, as soon as you can.” you could hear his hesitance, his tone as if he were speaking to katie, not you, but it was almost as if you were in placed into a daze

- your arm simply dropped, the weight of the phone suddenly too much to bear, john’s calls of concerns incoherent from the receiver as it hung in suspension from the wall

- you somehow managed to move yourself to sit down on the couch, but you couldn’t speak, you don’t even know what to say

- could all your brothers really be gone?

- what had happened?

- the death of your brother closest in age to you during the war had wrecked you, but the waves of soldiers coming in took precedence, not grieving

- you didn’t want anyone else, a mother, sister, or wife, to have to deal with the pain, and you would practically give your own life to ensure that for them

- throwing yourself into work, it’s no surprise tommy’s arrival hit you as hard as it did, it was like seeing your brother, there right in front of you, in need of saving

- regardless of romantic feelings, he could not die because you were unable to be there for him, and you would make sure he got home

- because so many men weren’t going to

- now, who did you have to go home to?

- the shelby’s, as lovely as they can be, weren’t blood

- you had no kin left

- just the thought of returning to your empty home in birmingham let tears start to hang onto the edge of your lashes, waiting to fall

- there would be no late nights by the fire, sitting in comfortable silence with your brothers, wordlessly unpacking the stresses of the day

- there would be no early sunday mornings making breakfast, then forcing them with you into the pew, all bickering as if you were much younger than you were

- there would be no more of their playful teasing, their fierce protectiveness

- there would be no more dirty boot prints littering the home, a pain to clean, but a reminder that they were present, working, living

- there would be no more birthdays, the four siblings shouting at one another over little squabbles, trying to divvy up the whiskey most appropriately by age, then drunkenly blubbering about how much you all really did care for one another hours later

- not four, you had to remind yourself

- it was four, but after the war it was three, and now it’s just one, alone.

- lost in your thoughts, you didn’t hear maggie finishing up the conversation with john, discussing details hurriedly; her worried questions, the sad nods of her head

- you would be going back to birmingham on the next train in the morning