#like I’m just thinking about Arthur’s ‘problem with the sun’ and how he just said he spent days trying to disintegrate himself in the sun

[zeb-z]

there's just something so. about Magnus' and Arthur's relationship. their friendship was formed from this mutual ideal of peace, but their goal is seeped in as much blood and violence as the society they’re apart of, and their relationship is built on mutually assured destruction. every interaction ends with a reassurance that they’ll be the one to kill the other, should the need arise - should Magnus turn, or should “the beast” inside Arthur take control

[theshelbyclan]

A Sisterly Bond

Summary: Ada and Teddy don’t have much in common, but that doesn’t mean that they couldn’t make a good team

A/N: I just felt like writing again, and for Ada and Teddy in particular. I always imagine them getting on better and better as Teddy gets older. She’s still young in this one, so it’s a rocky relationship still 😂 anyways, hope you enjoy to whoever still is reading my stuff!

Words: 2630

*****

“Teddy, would you be so kind as to give me my coat?”

“No.”

“For fuck’s sake,” Ada sighed, “why do you always have to be difficult?”

“Am not,” Teddy grumbled.” I just don’t see why I have to be your lady’s maid, just because you’re my sister.”

“Ooh, there’s a big word!” the older sister replied sarcastically.

“Tommy says all fancy rich ladies have a lady’s maid.”

“ ‘Tommy says’…” Ada rolled her eyes and Teddy stuck out her tongue at her.

In many ways, Ada and Teddy were nothing alike. There was the age gap, of course, but they also just seemed to have very little in common. Ada didn’t care much for family business, while Teddy wanted to know everything about everything. Ada tried her best to live her own life without her brothers interfering at every turn, whereas Teddy wanted to be like her brothers in every way. Ada made an effort to never care too much, unlike Teddy, who cared so much and didn’t have a problem showing it. Also, Ada wanted to go out in her fancy coat and high heels, and Teddy wanted to run free in her brother’s trousers and shirt.

Polly watched the two sisters and followed Teddy with her eyes as she stormed out the door in a huff. She then turned to Ada and said, “Would it kill you to just say a kind word to her every now and then?”

Ada had her nose back in the papers and shrugged, “I don’t know, Pol. Would it kill her to practise some good manners?”

“You know what she’s like.”

“Oh, I do,” she sighed, “I remember when she was born and you told me how nice it would be for me to have another girl in the family. Instead we got… Teddy.”

———

Nine-year-old Teddy Shelby was walking through the muddy streets and pretended she was a pirate. With a stick in hand, she fought off the assailants only she could see and shouted out battle cries. But in the chaos of Small Heath, no one really noticed her. And if they did, they simply thought: there goes Teddy Shelby…

Her playing was suddenly interrupted though by her youngest brother. “Aunt Polly says she wants you to go with Ada!” Finn shouted out, as he ran towards her.

“Why?” she sighed, exasperated.

“I don’t know. She needs help carrying things from the market?”

Teddy kicked a rock, “Can’t you do it?”

Finn shrugged again, “It’s a woman’s job, isn’t it.”

“Oh fuck off!” As Finn pouted a little, she added, “Please can you go? Ada doesn’t even like me…”

If there was one thing Finn couldn’t stand, it was seeing his little sister upset, so he agreed. “You know, Arthur is always with John. Ada likes me, but you’re Tommy’s favourite.”

“I know.”

“So it’s not that bad, right?” Finn tried hopefully.

“I suppose not.” But Teddy couldn’t help but feel a little sadness over it.

———

“Aunt Pol says I’m to get you ready for church.”

“I am ready,” Teddy motioned to her dress, which she hated so intensely.

Ada sighed, “What have you done to your knees now? They look like you’ve become the chimney sweep’s latest apprentice.”

“Why do you always have to badger me?” Teddy called out, full of frustration.

“Just… clean your knees before Polly sees,” she waved a hand and put on a hat.

Teddy started scrubbing furiously at her legs. Ada watched her and decided that maybe she should make an effort. So she asked, “What do you think of this hat? Does is suit me?”

“I don’t know,” the little girl shrugged, “it stays on so I’m guessing it fits your head?”

“Bloody hell, I don’t know why I even bother. Let’s go.”

———

In the late afternoon sun, Tommy was talking to a man about a horse. Next to him, a small girl was following the conversation intensely, trying to learn as much from the interaction as she could.

“I’ll give you four for her, but no more.”

“Can’t do less than six, mister Shelby,” the man slapped her brother’s hand, “She’s a good horse, that one. Strong.”

“She’s no war horse and I could have fucking five of her for that price. Four and a half.”

“I have a family to feed, sir. Five?”

Tommy shook his hand and that was that.

After he’d left, Teddy looked up and, like she’d been in the business for twenty years, said, “She’s worth at least ten, Tommy.”

“Is she?” he took a drag on his cigarette, but inside felt like he could burst with pride. Then he lifted Teddy up and planted her up onto the horse, “Go on, tell me what she’s like.”

As Teddy rode around the yard, Ada joined her brother. With her usual air of indifference, she commented, “Well, if it isn’t the big brother and his pride and joy.”

“Hello, Ada…”

“Did she persuade you into spending more money once again?”

“Look at her,” Tommy pointed, “She might be the best rider in all of Small Heath.”

Ada raised her eyebrows and mumbled, “High praise…” In truth, Ada was impressed. She’d always been the odd one out in the family when it came to horses. She never much cared for them and riding them had always been more of a chore than a pleasure.

“Why don’t you tell her how good she looks up on that horse, eh?”

“Me? Why the hell would I tell her?”

Tommy locked eyes with Ada, “Because it’s you she wants to hear it from.”

She laughed a little at that, “No, Tommy, it’s you she wants to hear it from. Everything she wants to hear from you.”

As Ada walked off again, Tommy called after her, “She is your only sister, Ada.”

“And what a joy she is,” but it didn’t come out that sarcastic this time.

After a few more minutes or riding, Teddy hopped down from the horse again. Her brother asked her some questions about the horse and she answered to the best of her abilities. But in between, Teddy carefully asked, “Was that Ada?”

“Yes, just on her way home from the Bullring.”

“Did she watch me ride?” Teddy asked in a small voice.

Tommy observed her for a second, “Now, why do you ask that?”

She shrugged her shoulders and turned away to brush off the horse, “Just curious.”

———

Polly was a modern woman in many ways, but not in every way. She might’ve even been insulted if you called her that. So, when it was time for the spring cleaning of the house, she asked the girls to help. Well, she didn’t really ask.

“Ada, you start on sweeping and Teddy you can follow her with the bucket.”

Both girls rolled their eyes so hard it had to hurt and Polly couldn’t help but notice how in those few seconds, they looked exactly alike.

“I’ll be in the back with the washing,” their aunt continued, leaving no room for arguments.

Cigarette in hand, Ada started sweeping the floors at her own leisurely pace.

“Hurry up, will you?” Teddy grumbled, “I have to wait on you to mop and I do have other things to do, you know.”

“Oh? And what important appointments might you have, you strange little idiot?”

“Don’t call me an idiot!” Teddy stomped down het foot, “and hurry the fuck up!”

“Swear again and I’ll give you a slap!”

“Go on then!”

Ada huffed and swung her broom, aiming for her annoying sister. Teddy ducked and laughed, “You’re too slow.”

“Teddy…” she sighed, “I don’t want to do this either and I don’t have the energy to fight you as well. Just shut up and get this done.”

“Fine. Go on then, work, unless you’re afraid you’ll break a fucking nail or something.”

That earned Teddy a firm smack around the head. Angrily, she picked up her bucket and threw its contents in Ada’s direction, instantly soaking her sister.

“WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON IN HERE?!”

Aunt Polly came barging in the house after hearing Ada scream. Inside, she found a furious Teddy with one red cheek and an even more furious Ada, completely wet and dripping.

“I left you two alone for five fucking minutes,” she glared daggers, “and you can’t even behave for that long?”

Ada seemed to have found her composure again and grabbed another, dry, cigarette. “That’s what happens when you leave me with an actual fucking savage, Pol.”

“It’s not my fault! She started it!” Teddy fumed, “She called me an idiot and she does that all the time because she hates me!”

“Jesus Christ,” Polly lit a cigarette of her own, “Ada, go get changed and then you can continue the work outside. Teddy, you take over the sweeping. Probably my own fucking fault for thinking you could get along for half a day…”

With all the dignity she could muster in a soaked dress, Ada stalked off. Teddy picked up the broom and tried to avoid Polly’s eyes.

“I’ll have a word with her,” Polly said eventually, not without sympathy.

“Which is more than I’ll ever fucking have again,” Teddy spit.

“God,” Polly whispered to herself, “Why did you have to make them both so fucking stubborn?”

———

It was the evening after pay day, so all the pubs in Small Heath were filled to the brim. Normally, they didn’t serve women on their own, but Ada Shelby was the exception to the rule. Harry wouldn’t dare to refuse her.

“Here you go, Miss Shelby,” he said, as he handed her a drink.

She took it gratefully and went to sit down. The truth was, she was hoping to catch a glimpse of Freddie Thorne, but he hadn’t been in yet.

After fifteen minutes, she wanted another one and made her way over to the bar again. But the place was packed and it took too long for her liking. So, Ada went behind the bar and poured her own drink. Teddy watched her and smirked slightly. Deep down, she did admire her sister, simply because she wasn’t impressed by anything or anyone really.

At the same time, an older gentlemen strolled into the Garrison. He was dressed differently, looked like money, and had the confidence to match. Short as he was, he made up for it in attitude. Teddy didn’t know him and eyed him carefully.

Then he spotted Ada and made his way over. Leaning on the bar, he started talking to her, but Teddy couldn’t hear. She stood up and walked a little closer, while remaining invisible in the crowd.

“Come on, sweetheart, pretty girl like you all alone without a man?”

“Who says I am?” Ada shrugged, and Teddy could tell she was uncomfortable.

He smiled at her without humour, “How about I take you for a good time. You don’t want to be difficult, do you?”

Teddy frowned and felt the urge to spit at him. But instead she noticed how he was standing up on the little ledge of the bar, just a few inches off the ground. Cockily, he balanced on one leg, presumably to make up for the inches he lacked.

So the little girl grinned and just as he was telling Ada about all the things he had and could offer her, Teddy walked up to him and kicked him in the back of his knees. At once, he lost his balance and his legs buckled. And in one swift motion, he collapsed onto the bar and then fell flat on his arse.

The pub erupted in laughter.

Teddy joined in, but only got to celebrate her triumph for a few seconds. The man became furious and grabbed her, raising his hand to strike her. But before he could, Ada had grabbed a bottle and smashed it over his head. Afterwards, she calmly brushed the glass off her own coat and bit, “Now, piss off.”

“Yeah!” Teddy added, “Piss off!”

Ada looked down at her and grabbed her hand. She didn’t feel like waiting for what was to happen next, so she marched her little sister out of the pub.

Outside, neither said a word for a long time. Eventually, Ada was the first one to speak, “Would you mind explain what the bloody hell that was?”

Teddy shrugged, a little winded from having to run after Ada in her four inch heels, “I thought he was a bad man, so I didn’t want him to talk to you.”

Ada looked down at her strange little sister and felt a sudden surge of love for her, “He was a bad man. And I didn’t want him to talk to me.”

“Why?”

“Teddy… there are some good men out there…”

“Are there?”

“…but most of them are just bastards.”

Teddy pondered on that for a second, “How do you know which one is the not-bastard?”

Ada smiled, “Well, apparently, you already do. This one was not one of them.”

“So, you’re not mad at me for kicking him?” She tried carefully.

“Mad?” She laughed, “I thought it was bloody brilliant!”

Teddy smiled back up at Ada, beaming with pride.

“Thank you, Teddy, because for a moment, I did get scared.”

“I can come with you all the time, if you like!” her little sister quipped happily, “Keep watch for you?”

“That won’t be necessary, sweetheart, but I appreciate the offer.”

Casting her eyes down again, “Yeah, I know you don’t want me around…”

And quite abruptly, Ada stopped her in the streets, “Now wait a second, you strange little…” she quickly swallowed her words, “Teddy. Just because I don’t always like you, doesn’t mean I don’t love you. Do you understand?”

“No. That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Maybe not,” Ada marched on again and Teddy once again struggled to keep up, “but it will as soon as you find your own not-bastard!”

Teddy looked a little too pensive for Ada’s liking, so she said in her version of being comforting, “I’ll look out for you too and kick any man that gets to close, don’t worry.”

“What happened to you two?” Polly demanded, as her two nieces walked through the door.

“Nothing,” they both replied in unison.

Thomas looked from one to the other, “Tell me what happened.”

“We told you, Thomas, nothing happened,” Ada replied airily, while taking off her gloves.

“Teddy, you fucking tell me now.”

But even Teddy didn’t crumble under her brother’s piercing eyes this time. Instead, she looked up to Ada and said, “It’s nothing, Tommy. Just women’s business. Nothing for you to worry about.” She was now directly quoting her other female role model and Polly had no choice but to bend her head to hide her smile.

Ada smiled back at Teddy and left the room, with her little sister in tow.

“What the fuck was that?” Tommy sighed.

Polly replied, not without some smugness, “I believe that was a sisterly bond in action.”

“Should I be worried?”

“Yes.”

“Fucking hell,” he breathed, as he lit another cigarette.

Polly turned around to continue her work, “You’re outnumbered now, Thomas!”

Tommy tried to make a dismissive hand gesture, “There’s four of us, only two of them.”

“Yes, but they’re women, sweetheart, and women count for at least two men. Besides, they’re together now.”

This was all too much for the great leader of the Peaky Blinders to understand. There were some things, ‘women’s business’ as Teddy so elegantly had put it, that he tried to steer clear of. Still, he felt a pang of sadness over his little sister growing up. Maybe he was losing her.

“You won’t,” his aunt read his mind, “but you can’t protect her forever either.”

“If I can’t, who will?”

Polly smiled gently, “We will.”

*****

Masterlist

[fromthemouthofkings]

Once Again, the Future

King stands in the convenience store deli aisle, frowning over two different sandwiches. They’re both good sandwiches. He continues to frown. Above him the fluorescent lights flicker, and the refrigerated cases give a quiet hum. In beat-up sneakers and a hoodie pulled down low over his eyes, and shooting furtive glances at the girl picking through the apple crate, he doesn’t exactly look the part. 

King woke up the night after a police officer shot his classmate point-blank in the back while the kid was running away. A wizard came to him in his dreams and told him that he had to do something about it. Yeah, seriously. (The man had a long, white beard and was wearing a star-patterned blue robe. That’s how he knew he was a wizard.)

He said, “Like what?” and the wizard said, “It’s almost time. Assemble the Round Table. Wake up.”

Before that, he was just Art. Now, he remembers bits and pieces of another life, an impossible life, memories that absolutely shouldn’t exist. He thinks he might be going crazy. Except that he recognizes them, the people from his dreams. His brother, Kay. His half-sister, Morgan. Gavin. Lance. And they seem to recognize him, too. Each time, he holds out a hand to them, and they take it, blinking, like his touch has reawakened something inside them.

They’ve been slowly filtering into his life again. (He recognizes them. He always recognizes them, even though they look different now. Their faces have changed, but the eyes are always the same.) 

Each time, he thinks about not doing it. About just turning around and walking out. Going it alone. He could leave his friends and family to live their ordinary lives in peace. But he doesn’t.

He’s gathered most of the Round Table now. He can see the ring of it, in his mind’s eye. Perce and Tristan, Lottie, Bev, Gareth, Pell, and Elaine. There are just a handful of empty spaces left. 

It’s almost time. He doesn’t need a wizard to tell him that. He can feel it. Whatever comes next—it’s about to begin.

The girl beside the apple crate is talking on her cellphone now. Her fluffy black hair piles softly over her shoulders. King lingers there, watching her. 

“Are you planning to buy that?”

Oh, great. He’s been standing here too long, and now the shopkeeper thinks he’s trying to steal something.

Lance gets up in the shopkeeper’s face. He always was Arthur’s most loyal defender. “He’s taking his time to think about it. What’s wrong? You got a problem?”

King pulls him back. “It’s fine. I’m getting this one.” Blindly he chooses the Italian sub and brings it up to the counter to pay.

Lance was the first to wake up. An accident. King saw his familiar face, that morning after, and booked it across a parking lot, a wire fence, and two busy streets to ask him what the fuck was going on.

Lance was playing basketball with some of his friends. He was the shortest among them, with gym shorts and a shaved head and shiny new Adidas. He got up in King’s face then, too, asking “Yo, dude, what the fuck is your problem?” 

“Who are you?” King demanded, because he didn’t know, then, that the others wouldn’t remember him until he touched them. 

“Who the fuck are you?” Lance had countered. 

Acting on instinct, King grabbed his scrawny shoulders, and Lance’s face had gone slack with realization. He dropped to his knees right there in the middle of the basketball court. 

King doesn’t know if he’s ever done this before. He thinks he might have. Once, maybe twice, maybe dozens of times before. 

King pays for his sandwich, and he and Lance head out. As he’s pushing open the door—that’s when he sees it, glittering in the sun. The sword is sunk into the sidewalk, with the hilt sticking straight up out of the concrete. 

He doubles back. 

The girl is checking out behind him. As he approaches, she’s digging in her purse for change. 

The shopkeeper gives him a dirty look, but he ignores it. 

“Hey.”

She looks between him and Lance, a confused half-smile on her face. “Do I know you?”

“Not yet.” He holds out his hand. “I'm Arthur King.” 

“Uh, hi.” She giggles. “I’m Gwen.” 

He’d almost forgotten how young she used to be before she came to Camelot, how young they all used to be (he feels like he has lived a hundred lifetimes since then). She’s just an ordinary girl, for this brief moment, worried about boys and grades and getting into college and her mother.

Then she takes his hand, and she is queen.

[kiwiana-writes]

Year in Review: Favourite Lines

Thanks to @anincompletelist for both making up a new game AND tagging me in it!

RULES: feel free to share your top three/top five/however many favorite snippet(s)/line/quotes/paragraphs from your published fics (or wips!)

Tried to keep this relatively short; may have failed. Whatever, just roll with it.

From Empty your heart of its mortal dream:

His name tripping off the prince’s tongue sent a shudder through Alex he couldn’t explain. “I no longer feel cursed,” he said, a deflection and a confession all in one.

From I've carried this song in my mind:

“Looking for Orion,” Henry responds after a moment, and that makes Arthur ache in a way dead actors-turned-dukes should probably not be able to ache. You don’t need to find Orion, Arthur wants to tell him. I’m in every constellation, in your heart, in your soul. I’m here. I’m always here. But Henry can’t hear him.

From Puck It:

Alex is aware that he might be bisexual in the same way he’s aware that he might be allergic to cats; there have been a few brief interactions to make him think it’s probably true, but so far it hasn’t had any impact on his life, so he hasn’t really had a reason to look into it and find out for sure. Now, faced with Henry’s clavicle and the sudden, vivid mental image of sinking his teeth into it, he’s not sure how theoretical it is anymore.

and:

Falling in love with Henry isn’t something Alex does. It’s not even something that happens to him. It’s an inevitability; the earth rotates the sun, winter melts into spring, and Alex Claremont-Diaz falls in love with Henry Fox. With his smile, with his passion, with his grief; with his incredible caring heart and his shockingly subpar karaoke skills.

From The way we get into each other's bones (aka angstapalooza RWRB edition, currently a WIP coming 2024):

No, what Alex will hate himself for the most is that when they fall to the floor, Henry’s hands find their way to Alex’s hips, gripping tight enough that his fingers will probably leave bruises later—and just for a moment, it feels like coming home.

From Years of dreams just can't be wrong (aka Anastasia AU, currently a WIP coming 2024):

The thing about Alex is, he’s always ten steps ahead of himself. When faced with a problem, more often than not the solution will come to him fully formed and he has to pick up the thread and walk it backwards through the labyrinthine pathways of his brain’s logic until all the twists and turns fit together; until he understands the steps to take to get himself from point A to point B. He’s always been this way, to the confusion of most people around him and the dismay of more than one high school math teacher begging him to show his working.

Tagging @affectionatelyrs @cha-melodius @clottedcreamfudge @cricketnationrise @cultofsappho @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @inexplicablymine @myheartalivewrites @orchidscript @rmd-writes @sparklepocalypse and, as always, anyone who wants to play! 

[21witnokidz]

IN THE GHETTO

Chapter 25

“And then maybe I should add a love triangle somewhere in the middle right?”

“Oh I don’t know. Those are outdated and cliche if you ask me”

Mary-Beth was telling you about this new love story she was planning to write and she needed your input.

When you told her that love triangles were played out nowadays she looked a little disappointed in your answer.

“Oh but it’s your story Mary-Beth you put whatever you want. Just don’t expect me to take a liking to it” you put your arms up

Mary-Beth slapped your arm and went back to her writing.

“Oooh Y/n have I got some news for you” Lenny approached and he looked excited. Then again, he was pretty young and had his whole life ahead of him. It was normal for him to be excited about many things.

“So I was talk in’ around with the colored folk of Rhodes and there was talk of a place with lots weapons”

You raised your eyebrow and sipped your coffee.“Don’t we already got enough of that?”

“And money” Lenny added rubbing his fingers together.

You immediately shot up upon hearing that.

“Arthur let’s go!”

Arthur had just came back from a fishing trip but you were sure he wouldn’t back down on some money.

“Huh where we goin’?”

“I don’t really know myself but Lenny hear said there’s talk of money and weapons somewhere ain’t that right Leonard?”

“That’s right Arthur we better hurry before someone else gets it” Lenny said racing to his horse.

“Now hold on. You said there was TALK of there being money. How you know them folks wasn’t just gossiping?”

“What’s gossip worth if it’s free?” you asked.

Arthur just sighed and shook his head “She’s got a point” he whispered to himself, climbing back up on his horse after tying it up not even 5 minutes ago.

-

After a good ride and a witty conversation you guys finally made it to a place called Shady Belle. Lenny suspected those were where the guns were especially since there people guarding the place despite it looking abandoned.

“Well Lenny looks like someone did make it here before us”

“Well we can take care of this easy peasy” Arthur said pulling out his Bolt Action from his horse pouch.

You guys were able to take out the guards no problem just like Arthur said. Your main concern though is if the merchandise got caught within the gunfire.

You were searching beyond the dead bodies for the guns. Or the money. Or both. Before coming across a wagon with a box. You lifted up the lid and found a pile of brand new rifles.

“Thank god for black people” you whispered shaking your head.

“What was that? You found the guns?” Arthur came behind you.

“Yup. Anybody order a dozen fresh rifles?” You said holding the gun up.

“Perfect let’s take these back to Dutch!” Lenny clapped his hands.

-

“Arthur, Y/n, you’ve done it again” Hossa chuckled looking at the guns “and of course you did a fine job Lenny”

“Arthur come on let’s go. Me and Micah are on our way to this O’Driscoll hide out, you need to come with us” dutch came around already ordering Arthur as soon as he can me back”

“Uh ok. You comin Y/n?”

“Nah I think I’ll just stay here. Been a long day”

Arthur squeezed your hand and went off with dutch and Micah.

-

Arthur had gone to the hideout several hours ago. The sun was already down.

“I swear to god Hosea if something doesn’t come up soon I’m gonna lose my mind”

“Just calm down. Come on. This Arthur we’re talking about. The boy’s too damn stubborn to get himself killed” The older man tried to calm you. “now he might fuck around and fall off a cliff but someone actually taking Arthur Morgan’s life? They’d have to be Hercules”

Hosea rubbed your shoulders to try and calm you down.

But then you saw Dutch.

“Where is he? You better tell me something I swear to god”

“Now just listen-“ he began.

“Don’t tell me to just listen where’s Arthur?”

“Well.. they got him”

Your immediately dropped to your ankles.

“Now when he says that. He doesn’t mean death. It’s just that they literally have him… like hostage” Micah explained.

“Oh my god” you said in disbelief but quickly turned to anger. “And where were you huh!?” You started hitting Dutch’s chest while tears were spilling from your eyes.

“Y/n I promise we’ll look for him later it’s just too risky now” he tried to calm you.

You were feeling a little weak from all the stress so you just had to sit down. But that did not mean that you caught any rest.

You had no idea how late it was in the night but you were sure the sun would be coming up anytime soon.

That’s when you heard the sound of a horse in the distance. You looked off into the trees a silhouette. Just from his shadow alone you could tell it was Arthur.

“Arthur!”

He came into camp and as soon as he got off the horse he collapsed.

“Arthur came back! He needs help!”

Everyone came rushing out to help you get him up onto his bed.

“God I’m sorry dear boy. I’m so sorry”

“It’s too late for apologies Dutch, look at him!”

You rubbed the side of Arthur’s face lovingly “are you ok? Please tell me didn’t hurt you too bad”

He just nodded his head and leaned into your touch, too tired to speak.

-

Arthur had recovered from his injuries and the gang was back to normal.

You saw him looking off to the distance with some coffee in his hand when you approached him.

“Arthur?”

“Hey there darlin’. He wrapped his arm around you and kissed your cheek”

“You feel better?”

“Yea. I really appreciate you staying by my side during my healing process. Meant a lot to me”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”

“It’s just- you’ve always cared so much for me. I’ve known you almost my whole life and we’ve always looked out for each other. I guess what I’m tryna say is.. I appreciate you”

“Yea you just said that you fool” you slapped his chest.

“No i- shit..”

Arthur put the journal back in his satchel and pulled out something else. It was a ring. And it had a beautiful diamond on it.

“I wasn’t sure how I was gonna do this but here I am. Y/n, will you make me the happiest man ever by being my wife so that I can have you for the rest of my life?”

“Arthur..” you couldn’t believe this is happening. I mean you always knew you were gonna marry Arthur but this was just so surreal to you. You looked into his eyes to see if he was being for real. And he was.

“Yes Arthur I’ll be your wife”

[padfootdaredmetoo]

Hi! First off I want to say how incredible ur Peaky imagines are, I love them! I’m new to your blog but it’s sooo good! And could I possibly request a Finn Shelby x reader imagine where the reader works for the blinders and one day comes into work with a hickey or two on her neck and everyone (accept Finn of course😂) is very confused as to who gave it to her. When they figure out it’s Finn they’re all really confused as to how they didn’t suspect anything was going on between them, and maybe John or Arthur are like “no way did our Finn do that” or “I thought Finn was still a virgin” and just like making them blush and stuff. You don’t have to if you don’t want to, I understand. Just take your time and take care of urself! Keep up the incredible work❤️

This was such a sweet request and message! Welcome to the blog! I'm so happy you are enjoying my stuff!

Thank you for being so patient!!!! I know this is a Finn x reader but a lot of it is from Tommy's POV, hope that's okay.

Warnings: None but they originally think she has been sexually assaulted so they approach it in a heavy way. Sorta angsty. Light and fluffy ending plus some head canons! Lots of dad Tommy vibes because I can't help myself.

Thomas didn’t have the time to notice everything. There were complex layers to how the business ran and keeping the darker layers off of everyone else around him took more hours than the sun provided. Things that were not life or death often had to be placed on the back burner regardless of the personal consequences. 

Walking in the door to his office he said good morning to the girls in the office as he always did. Lizzy gave a curt nod, and his receptionist prattled on about any notable news. Then as every morning she told him a horrible joke, big eyes watching for a reaction, and as always he nodded and moved into his office. Everything felt ordinary as he moved into his office. Tommy made a mental note to buy her a nicer scarf, the one wrapped around her neck was oddly familiar and horrible.. 

Sitting down in his chair he wished that there was a cure for the tiredness seeping into his bones. 

As always, he heard John before he saw him. Sounded like he was giving the girl a hard time, something that was out of character for him. He didn't like the way his anger flared, and how his hands fisted at the volume of John’s voice. He heard Lizzy snap at him and things quieted down.

 The family had sort of half adopted the girl,  something that amazed him. All he heard about was how awful he was, how cursed the family is, why would they drag someone as sweet and gentle as her into a mess like this. He just didn't understand. 

She was a nice girl, and under other circumstances she would have been an addition to a family anyone would be immensely proud of, unfortunately he was unable to see her as anything more than another person to worry about. She seemed to have different feelings towards him, something he assumed had to do with an absent father. The more he pushed her away the more jokes, silly notes, and cups of tea. So he just remained neutral, more for her safety than for anything else. 

“Tommy!” John swung the door open and shut it rather loudly before walking through the dark office. 

“John?” He answered lamely, he didn't have time for this. 

“It’s one of those Changretta boys. M’sure of it. Hear them talking at the bar ‘bout her and Lizzy.” 

“What exactly is the problem eh?” He looked at John with his eyebrows raised. Men talk all the time, and often too loud for their own good. If it was deserving, John's reaction made him feel like it was, it could be handled easily enough with a beating. 

“The marks on her bloody neck! Looks like she fought off a fucking ocopus. Fuck sakes Tommy wake up and look around every now and again, it wont kill ya.” John took a deep breath. Tommy thought back to the horrible scarf. She was a part of the outer-inner circle of the family. Under his care, willing or not, people woulndt be laying their hands on her like that. 

“Alright, calm down. Lot’s on me mind right now.” He ran his hands through his hair at the thought of going in there to ask her about it. That was a fathers job, and despite the way she looked up at him,  he was most certainly not her father. He picked up the phone. 

“Who are you calling? Call Moss and have them arrested!”  Tommy fought the urge to laugh. He was going to call in an order for the whole changretta family to be arrested, it would give him the rare flicter of amusement. But that’s not how you play the long game and win these types of situations. Not to mention he doubted she would want to be swarmed by police for the rest of the day. 

Tommy stood up and moved to look through the glass on either side of his door. Whatever John had said to her made her look physically deflated, and he didn't miss the way her hand shook as she wrote. Fuck. 

The line connected. 

“Pol, can you come down to the office?” He hoped this was going to be easy. But nothing between them was ever easy. 

“What do you need now?” She said absently. 

“Y/n has been assaulted by a fucking changretta!” John called into the voice box. 

“WHAT THE FUCKING - ” She started shouting, his head started pound. He realized that taking the girl aside and talking to her himself was the best way forward. 

“Look I’m just going to ask her myself to be sure but if she’s not right can I’ll send her to yours” He hung the phone up desperately wanting this whole thing to end. 

“Go and find Arthur. I’ll talk to her about what happened.” John nodded and strode out of the room. 

Tommy called her into the office and he watched her move into the room slowly. Normally she walked with an assertiveness that he found amusing, now she walked like she was unsure if the floor would swallow her whole. He motioned for her to take a seat and she gave him a little nod. The whole time she carefully avoided making eye contact. 

She’d been shot once, shot many others, thrown men twice her size out of the office. She was young, but fierce, and to see her sit down looking defeated and nervous made his stomach twist. 

“Not sure what John said to you, but I apologize for his behavior.” He said calmly. She gave him another little nod, eyes transfixed with the pattern on the carpet. He didn't know how to get the rest of the words out of his mouth. How do you ask about something like that, she seemed completely fine before John got there.

“You don't have to tell me about what you do in your private life. But - erm” Suddenly the room was too hot, and his throat was slightly tight. “Your neck, did uh, that was something you wanted to happen?” This was ridiculous. 

“Yes, got a bit carried away” She said softly. 

“So the changretta family eh?”

“What about them?” Her eyebrows knitted together and she finally looked up at him. Seeing her eyes round with fear and confusion made him wish that she hadn't. She knew what families and gangs to avoid, Tommy knew by the way she looked at him that it wasn’t anyone she shouldn't have been messing around with. 

“They didn't give you a hard time?” 

“No” She shook her head, understanding the previous question. 

“So you weren't assaulted, and no rival gangs are bothering you?” 

“No” She looked at him and he believed her. But it was obvious there was still something weighing heavily on her. 

“And you would come to me if they were, right?” It was a simple enough question, but her eyes started to get watery and she took in a jagged breath. 

______

Finn knew something was wrong when John and Arthur piled into the Garrison. They had that look on their faces, someone was going to die, and with the way they were walking over to him ment he was going to have to help. He fucking hated being apart of their team, they always got stuck with the wost stuff. 

Arthur leaned down landing his heavy hand on his shoulder. Finn hated the way his mustache tickled his cheek. 

“Y/N’s been messed around by a Changretta. Were on the move” Finn’s stomach dropped. He’d had to kill people, seen things he really wished he hadn't, but nothing compared to the fear he felt in that moment. 

“WHERE THE FUCK IS SHE?” He boomed. Arthur cuffed the back of his head painfully, but he didnt care what Tommy wanted, she was hurting and it was his job to protect her. He needed to get to her now. 

____________

“That means a lot to me.” She whispered. 

“Something is eatin’ at you, so just tell me. I’ll help.” Was it a boyfriend? Something was wrong and he hated how much he wanted to make it right. 

“I - well I went on a date and then a few more dates, but I don't really know what the rules are - I love my job - love all of you - and I feel like I could get in trouble but i’m not sure - but asking means I could lose everything. And I wanted to be sure about the relationship before I did anything” She was almost hyperventilating. 

“Just breathe, I won’t fire you over a relationship, unless it was with a rival family.” 

“No, God, I wouldn't do something like that” Again he could tell she was telling the truth, but who else would be making her feel this guilty? “ I went out with your brother” Her face scrunched up like the words cut her to say them. 

Tommy’s head was spinning at a rate uncharted, rage found its way back to the pit of his stomach. Fucking Arthur. He was sweet to her brought coffee and treats every now and again but not more than the rest of the family did. His hands started to shake. She was much, much, much too young, and undeserving of the demons that plagued him. 

“See it’s bad isn't it, but I love him and I didn’t know how to tell any of you. God, you're mad at me!” 

“I’m not mad at you! I’m -” Be began when Polly blew the door open with Esme on her heels, but his temper had risen to a breaking point. 

“OUT!” He shouted pointing at them without taking his eyes off of her. To his surprise they backed out of the room and shut the door. She was crying properly now and Tommy got on his knees in front of her. 

“Look at me” he said calmly. She reached out and grabbed his hand.

“I’m sorry.” 

“Enough of that.” He squeezed her hand. “Arthur is a tricky man to be around, he should know better than to be putting his hands -” The door flew open again and he was about ready to pull his gun out when he saw it was Finn. His face was red and it looked like he’d ran here. Before he could tell the boy off  - his hands were on her.

“Where are you hurt?! What happened?!” His hands ran over her, and his face was set in a way that Tommy had never seen before. Finally everything clicked into place. 

The horrible familiar scarf was his mothers scarf. Finn was pulling her against his chest, crushing the poor girl in his arms.

She was going steady with Finn. 

He actually laughed. Thank fucking christ. 

 “Why are you laughin? Nothing funny bout this?!” Finn roared which only made him want to laugh harder. 

“It’s fine.” He finally said “Everything is fucking fine.” He looked down at her red face and she smiled at him. 

He left the room to give them some space. Shutting the door he looked around at the family, John and Arthur running into the room. 

“It’s just Finn. She’s going out with Finn.” 

“Finn?!” John said incredulously. “Marked up her neck like that?” 

“Can’t be our Finn, he’s barely tying his shoes.” Arthur said laughing. 

“That explains why he pissed himself in the pub” The boys started to crack jokes and Polly moved close to his side. 

“So nothing’s wrong, she's fine?” Polly said, looking at him sharply. “She’s fine. I made sure that everything is right” Tommy answered with a nod. Polly let out a breath and he hated himself for worrying her. She looked so frail when she was worried like that. 

“How did he score her in the first place? We sure he’s not black mailing her into it?” Isaha was there, joining in on it now. Tommy looked into his office and saw Finn kneeling in front of her as she caught him up on everything that happened. 

He was intent, eyes fixed on her like she was the sun.

“Let’s take this to the pub eh?” Tommy announced trying to give them some space. There would be plenty of time to embarrass him later. 

____ 

Later at the pub, Finn stormed in, placing a firm blow on the side of John's face. Tommy and Arthur stood up immediately. 

John only looked at him with wide eyes. Finn whispered something and John nodded pulling him into a firm hug. They were laughing so everyone else settled down. Y/n strode into the bar missing the incident completely, smiling brightly as Polly and Esme pulled her towards a booth to question her.

____

 Some head cannons

When he punched John he told him not to speak to her like that ever again. Despite the fact that he’d helped kill people and do things for the family, that was the first time John saw him as a man. 

John apologized to her for losing his temper, said he was beside himself after hearing the Changretta’s talk shit the night before. 

Finn and her messing around and the next morning they notice that he marked up her neck. Both of them start to panic as she works a job where she is in the public eye. Plus she’s going to have to keep it away from Tommy. So Finn just rummages through his drawers that morning and finds the scarf he kept that was his mums. He doesn't want to give it to her because it’s the only thing he really has left that was his mums. But she’s freaking out so he gives it to her and feels happy to see her wear it. 

At some point Tommy just accepts his role in her life and takes on a more brotherly / father like role. He finds out more about her childhood from Finn after making a rude comment about how he’s ended up fathering her. Tommy feels horrible when he finds out that her dad died when she was small and her many step fathers were pretty horrible to her. He doesn't laugh at her jokes in the morning, but he brings her coffee & a muffin to make sure she eats breakfast and spends more time checking on her and giving her advice when she needs it. 

Lizzy watches all of this happen and feels happy that he finally stopped shutting her down and pushing her away. Both of them sort of work together to help her with -some kind of problems - then realize that they are kind of good at working together…..

When her and Finn get married Tommy just assumes that he’s going to walk her down the aisle. She didn't know how to ask him so she doesn't and plans on walking down herself. But when she gets there he’s waiting for her and they have to pause the wedding because she starts crying super hard.

[zodiyack]

Niffler’s New Discovery

Requested by anon: May I request a the youngest Shelby sister x Newt Scamander story? The Shelby sister is nothing like her siblings. She’s shy, reads books like they’re oxygen, loves animals, and doesn’t drink, smoke, or anything like that. She doesn’t even swear, she’s so pure. She also loves his animals. And Tommy acts like her father but she loves her brother very much. Same as her other brothers. They find out she’s dating him and get all overprotective. Sorry if this is too specific. I just love the idea of a Shelby sister who’s nothing like her siblings. Because most of the Shelby reader fics always have them smoking and all that. Which they are fun to read, but it’s nice to see something different. Feel free to pick the Scenario. :)

Pairing: Newt Scamander x Female!Shelby!Innocent!Reader

Warnings: Swearing (not from reader ofc :)) slight suggestiveness (also not from reader), fluff, ✨m a g i c✨

Words: 1,303

Summary: (See Request...also I thought the gif was cute, so anon, I based it off the gif kinda)

Taglist: @matth1w, @redspaceace-writes, @fandom-puff, @darling-i-read-it, @simonsbluee, @sebastianstanslefteyebrow, @marquelapage, @stuckysslag, @psychkunox​, @i-love-superhero​

Masterlist | Fantastic Beasts (AWTFT) Masterlist | Peaky Blinders Masterlist

At first, they had no problem keeping their relationship hidden from her overly protective family, but the troublemaker Newt constantly had to chase down and return to his case was the thing that exposed them. The bloody Niffler just loved things that shined. Who could blame it though? It was it’s nature.

Just as it was the Shelby brothers nature to react the way they did. Violent, perhaps, but of their nature. Their possessive, over the top protective, shitty, big brother, nature.

And it all started, one late afternoon...

The older Shelby trio, not counting Ada with her age advance over John, returned home after a nice night out at the pub. Sure, the sun hadn’t set yet, but Pol wanted them to return home a little earlier today for a family meeting. The meeting included everyone, minus the innocent angel whom the Shelbys called their sister.

It was the perfect time to have Newt over. The perfect time to explore the secret world hidden inside his little brief case. If only they knew the pesky Niffler had been waiting.

“Are you sure they won’t suspect anything of my presence?” Newt hesitated, one foot hovering above the wooden flooring of Y/n’s bedroom, the other resting on the rooftop outside her window.

She ushered him in the rest of the way, making sure to lock her door after checking that no one was around. “Positive. Family meetings take a while, so we’re good on time. How about you? Are you sure this is good with the council?”

He had a guilt-ridden look across his face as he looked around. “There are some things the council doesn’t have to know.” A nervous laugh rumbled in his throat before he cleared it and scratched the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Uh huh... Well, just promise me that you won’t get into any serious trouble for this, alright Newton?” The blushing hufflepuff gave his lover a quick nod, as well as a smile in return for the little peck she placed upon his cheek, pinkening his skin further down his neck- it was no surprise that Newt was terribly new to receiving affection from anything other than his beasts that resided in his case.

“S-shall we be going?” He broke the tension, gesturing to the case in front of them.

“Boys.” Polly stopped the bickering that had started up between John and Tommy, her eyes drifting toward the ceiling, the trios’ following. “Your sister’s been awfully quiet.”

John cackled, “Oh no, maybe she snuck out, went to have a quick fuck with some guy off the streets, didn’t she Pol?” His rather sarcastic tone suggested his knowledge that the referenced behavior was most certainly unlike his little sister, but the immaturity of John Shelby simply couldn’t resist making a joke.

Polly, however, was in no mood for John’s incessant kidding. Her hand met the back of his head, a disapproving furrow of her brows telling him to stop talking. “I’m being serious, you idiot. It’s more quiet than usual.”

“And what about it, Pol?” Tommy spoke after taking a drag from his cigarette, an eyebrow quirked.

“If she really does have a boy up there, he better pray he’s out the window by the time we get up there.”

Tommy’s brow, lowered after asking Polly how she’d respond, lifted back once again. “There’s no God for him to pray to, Arthur. The boy is fucked, plain and simple.”

“In more ways than one.”

John’s childish cackles were hushed into silence, a slap sounding throughout the room prior to their ceasing. A hand rubbing the back of his head, John glared at his aunt, yet continued the discussion of what to do with Y/n nonetheless.

The past ten minutes had been spent trying to block off any and all exists for the pesky little Niffler. Each time it attempted to escape the bedroom, Y/n or Newt were quick to block it off. It amazed Y/n how many places the little creature could scurry off through. Unfortunately, with their wild-goose-chase, footsteps turned to stomps...well, really running, but downstairs it was more likely to sound aggressive, such as the hard thud of a Blinder’s boot on the floor of the Garrison.

It was inevitable; the possibility of being caught, but the fact seemed to slip their minds as they both tried to corner the Niffler, as well as capture it once more. Every shiny thing, ranging from jewelry to bullet casings, or things that caught her eye, made into décor (gifted from her brothers, as she would never touch a gun unless need be) were being stolen as the creature evaded capture.

Newt shot Y/n a sorry look each time one of her belongings were snatched up by the Niffler. It touched her heart, truly, it did, but now was not the time to swoon. Y/n froze as the Niffler wandered over to a bottle. Wine? Champagne? She didn’t know; Y/n never drank- the bottle was a gift from her sister in law, which she couldn’t turn down without upsetting her, so it soon became another...decoration.

Atop the bottle was shimmery, gold-like, wrapping. Of course it caught the mischievous little shine-thief’s eye. It pulled and pulled, Y/n and Newt made eye contact as the uneasy feeling in their guts mirrored, until POP!

The door broke open with a loud bang, Arthur standing confused before getting both a Niffler and a cork to the space between his brows. While Y/n flinched, Newt only looked away in shame.

“What. The. Literal. Fuck. Was. That?” John gapped. His usual remark would be to poke fun, but he too was in great shock, he couldn’t even think of anything humorous.

“A- ...A Niffler.” Newt stuttered. His rather shy demeanor was rarely common around Y/n, so she new he was slightly uncomfortable the second his hand lifted to itch the back of his neck as his eyes found interest in the floorboards.

“Did I fuckin’ ask you?” John narrowed his eyes at the timid wizard.

It was unusual for Y/n to get angry, but the unjustness of John’s attitude toward her lover didn’t sit well with her. “Leave him alone!”

Now there was more to be shocked about. “I- what?”

“You heard me, John. You, Arthur, and Thomas. Leave Newt alone. He didn’t mean for this to happen, so he shouldn’t be harassed by you three. Want to question him? Have Pol do it, but the second you come to my room and bully my lover is the second you cross the line.”

Tommy, amused, let out a little chuckle as he raised his eyebrows.

“Something funny to you, Thomas? ‘Cause I don’t think any of us are laughing.”

 “No, sister, nothing is of humor to me.” He muttered despite dawning a lopsided smirk. Tommy looked at his brothers and nodded his head toward the stairs before walking away. Although he was leaving, he never said he wouldn’t poke at the boy some more. Now just wasn’t worth it; he was already shaking in his boots as it is.

“Tommy- where- where’re you goin’?” John did a double take, following shortly after.

Arthur rubbed the red spot where he’d been nailed by the creature and it’s new favorite possession, proved by it cuddling the cork close to it’s body on the floor where it had landed after hitting Arthur. He excused himself politely before walking in the same direction as his brothers, still rubbing at his soon-to-be-bruising injury all the way down.

Newt took the opportunity to grab the niffler and tickle Y/n’s possessions from his tummy before running over and tucking him in the case. The anger faded from Y/n’s eyes as she watched her lover. “It looks as though the Niffler has discovered something new.” Newt chuckled lightly, easing up slowly.

“New indeed.”

[the-scribe-and-her-scribbles]

iwcb | chapter 11. it's almost time to let go

it will come back | chapter 11 | fae!prussia x reader

it will come back Masterlist and Summary

chapter summary: Gilbert isn't telling you everything.

word count: 3.8k

content warnings: mild swearing, making out, angst, YEARNING

(if you want to be added to the tagging list, please reply to the pic or message me)

ch 11. it's almost time to let go

Gilbert hasn’t been to the western edge of his woods in years, even before he was locked away. The time he spent with Antonio and Francis was something he looked back on fondly. He had met them years ago, when he was young and wild, and a lot more stupid. 

Gilbert was driving out invaders at the time and had met Antonio and Francis when they were doing the same. They ended up getting along, and an alliance between the three of them formed. Toni and Francis became some of his closest advisors, and he respected what they had to say. It was them who’d suggested he try the Find Soulmate spell and when it came up blank, and when Gilbert spiralled, they had tried to keep his head on his shoulders. 

(“What are you doing?” Toni had said. 

Gilbert rubs his eyes, bleary and barely awake. He hadn’t slept well that night. “I’m trying to focus, for fuck sakes.” He mutters. “I can’t think with you two babying me.” 

Francis stands not too far behind them. “You shouldn’t be doing this right now, mon ami.”

“And what should I do instead?” he bites out.

“Take a moment to process, to think.” Antonio sighs and Gilbert rolls his eyes. 

“There’s nothing to think about. I tried the spell, but it didn’t work. There’s no point in dwelling on it.”

“Ancients! Nothing to dwell on? Can you even hear yourself? This is your soulmate!”

Gilbert barks out a laugh. “The problem is the lack of soulmate, Francis.”

Francis growls. “I could punch you right now.”

“What do you want from me? To weep like a little kid? To wallow in self-pity?”

“I want you to admit that you’re disappointed. That maybe, somewhere in that black heart of yours, you wanted to find your mate so that you could be with them! Not just use them as some cheap spell charm!”

“Well, you always were a romantic.” He sneers.

“You know what? Fine. You want to be an imbecile. You want to rush into the fire without taking a second to fucking think? That’s fine, but I’m not gonna watch you bring yourself to ruin. Go ahead, try to take on Arthur’s court, try standing to the North Islands’ raiders. See how well it ends for you!” Francis bites out, before turning in a swish of his expensive blue shirt and storming out of the war room.)

Gilbert tries not to wallow in the past. He makes his choices and doesn’t look back to wonder what he would have done differently, or whether he made the right choice. He dug his grave and he’d lie in it. But as he leads you out of his woods and through the familiar grassy plains of his friend’s homeland, he can’t help but think of all the mistakes he made at the end. 

He sounds like one of those philosophers you study. The withering old humans who sit and ponder things like fate, chance and how small decisions trickle into overwhelming consequences. 

Francis was right back then. He should have taken a moment, listened to him and Antonio, Elizabeta and Roderich, and even his own brother, Ludwig. Maybe he could have held off Arthur with empty treaties and diplomacy long enough to find another way. Maybe he would have never been locked away in the the first place, never had to pull you into this mess. 

Maybe he never would have gotten the chance to meet you. 

Gilbert watched you weave through the tall grass, the seeds and pollen sticking to your skirts and hair. You look at him. You’re slightly breathless and you’re skin glows in the warmth of the setting sun. 

“You know,” you say to him. “I’m getting really tired of all this fucking walking. Characters in books make this shit look easy! My feet kill!”

Gilbert snorts. Maybe it’s good that he doesn’t dwell on the ‘what ifs’. 

I'm somewhere outside my life, babe

I keep scratching 

but somehow I can't get in

Francis has a villa close to the border of The Woods. Gilbert remembers Francis moving to it every year in late Autumn.  The two of you follow a dirt road around the outskirts of a small town, that cuts through the fields and farmland all around you. It's dark now and you walk, and up ahead, Gilbert sees the fight light of lanterns hanging from a rod-iron gate. 

You reach the entrance and try to push open the gate.

“Don’t bother, it’s locked,” Gilbert says. He moves Gil-bird from one arm to another before pulling off one of his gloves with his teeth. He places his hand on one of the bars. His fingers turn soot-black with magic. The gate hums before a resounding click unlocks the gate and it swings open with a creak. 

“M’lady,” he gestures as you walk in first. 

Despite the sun setting nearly an hour ago, Gilbert can see clearly that Francis hasn’t changed the place at all. The courtyard is still lush and opulent, with perfectly manicures flower beds and walking paths. Lamps light up the main path towards the house, and faerie glamour makes the red and white roses grow even as the first frosts of winter approach. 

You go to walk up a set of wide, marble steps to what looks to be a front door, but Gilbert stops you.

“Here, this way.” 

He leads you towards a section of brick where the ivy shimmers slightly out of focus, nearly unnoticeable to anyone who didn’t know what they were to look for. 

“That’s a wall,” you whisper behind him. 

“Just watch.” He reaches through the illusion, his fingers staining the tips of his fingers with inky black, as he swipes at the bricks with a little bit of magic. The black spreads out, like ink droplets onto cloth, slowly eating away at the illusion to reveal large oak doors. 

“Oh, that’s cool,” you whisper, your mouth shaped into an ‘o’ and your eyes wide. 

The door opens, and Gilbert swallows. Gilbert feels the nerves build in his stomach. He knows how badly he left things seventy-five years ago. So much for not wallowing in the past. He pushes the door open to see a figure standing on the top of the grand staircase. 

Francis hasn’t changed much either. The blond man’s wearing an expensive white shirt and black trousers. He stands completely still for a moment, looking down at Gilbert with his mouth pressed into to thin line. 

“Hey, Fran.”

He doesn’t say anything. That’s not good. Francis normally never stops speaking. Francis descends the steps and Gilbert tries to get a read on his old friend. 

“I’m not gonna apologize,” Gilbert continues. “You’ve known me long enough to know that..”

Francis continues to close the distance between them. As Francis takes the last, long strides before reaching him, Gilbert braces for impact.

Instead, the blond’s arms wrap around him in a tight hug, a hand patting him on the shoulder. 

“I’m glad you’re ok,”  Francis mutters as he pulls away, and the tension in Gilbert’s chest releases. “Toni! Get down here!” 

Antonio pokes his head out from around a corner and a grin splits his face. He lets out a jovial laugh and all but leaps down the stairs. 

“Took you long enough!” He says clapping Gilbert on the shoulder with maybe a little too much strength but Gilbert can’t find it in himself to care too much.

“Do you guys…like…need a minute?” You pipe up from behind. Antonio and Francis perk up to look at you, a pretty girl, a human, that they’ve never seen before. “Because I can wait outside, it’s no big deal.” 

And tell me if somehow some of it remained

How long you would wait for me?

How long I've been away?

Francis immediately enters host mode. Food and drinks are brought out by unseen servants and you and Gilbert are guided to a back sitting room while you’re grilled about your journey so far. Gilbert lets you tell your version of events, letting himself watch as you pull your feet under you on your half of the couch with a small cake, while you go over all you’ve been through in the past five days. 

Time is a strange concept for the Fae. It moves faster when you’re facing down eternity, he supposes. Days and weeks pass with the swiftness of rushing water. Five days ago he met you and you’ve trekked around most of the Wandering woods with him. Five days ago you crashed into his life and as he watches you chat with his old friends, laughing and drinking as Francis and Toni fight for your attention, you look time you’ve known them for years. Gilbert realizes that despite only knowing you for less than a week, it feels like you’ve always been there.  

That’s horrifying. 

It scares him to realize that you’ve taken the swift passage of time and slowed it down so significantly. That you’ve made 5 days with you feel like a blissful life of knowing you. 

“So all we have to get is one more thing of the West side of the woods, and then I’ll be headed home.”

Gilbert comes back out of his thoughts to catch the last bit of what you’re saying. 

“You’re heading back to the Mortal Realm? You must be excited?” Toni says. 

You nod, “I left kind of suddenly, so I’ll have a lot of explaining to do.” 

Gilbert watches as your face takes on a more serious look, and tries to avoid the confused look that Francis shoots him. He fails, and shoots Francis a look that says “drop it.” 

“But it will be nice to get back to my house, sleep in my bed, go back to class. I’m probably behind in most of them.”

“You go to a university, what do you study?” Francis takes over the conversation. He’s thankful for that because suddenly, Gilbert needs to excuse himself for some air, maybe a drink. 

He slips out of the room. The halls are quiet, with no one in them to see him realize that this is almost over. Gilbert had told you that first night together that if you helped him, he’d send you back. And now, with only one of Gilbert’s tokens left to retrieve, your time together is coming to an end. 

That thought makes his stomach sink. 

Gilbert hears footsteps behind him and turns around. Francis has snuck up behind him in the hallway. Gilbert nods to him, swallowing as Fran faces him with a stern gaze. 

“What did you do?” He says with a sign, and Gilbert tells him everything.

I can hope how this will end

With every line a comedy

That we can learn to love without demand

But with unreserved honesty.

Francis shakes his head. “Ancients, Gilbert. What you thinking.”

He groans. He honestly couldn’t tell him. Maybe he thought that he’s been able to keep his distance, but that plan went out the window the moment he kissed you in his prison. “I know,’ he says. “I know, I wasn’t thinking but I didn’t know what else to do.”

“You can’t keep this hidden from her.”

“If I tell her now, she’ll never forgive me. She’ll get scared and she’ll leave as soon as she gets the chance.” 

Francis gives him a stern look. “She has every right to.”

Those words settle in Gilbert's chest and trigger something to rise in him. It’s something feral and desperate and ugly. It claws at his chest with dirty claws, It howls and paces around his heart. 

“I just…” he takes a deep breath, pinning the hungry, possessive creature inside him under his imaginary boot. “I’m not ready yet. I need more time.” 

If he was a good person, he would tell you this. He’d tell you everything, damn the consequences. But Gilbert isn’t a good person, even by fey standards.  He’s arrogant and cruel, and he is selfish and determined and a down-right bastard. 

 You, on the other hand, are kind and good and so incredibly clever, and he’s in love with you, Gilbert finally admits to himself. 

He resigns himself to that fact. Despite his best efforts, he loved you the moment you fell into his prison, the moment you looked at him in the cool eerie light of that hell-hole, the moment you smiled at him and laughed at something he said. 

He was an idiot for thinking that he wouldn’t fall in love with you, his curse-breaker, his soulmate.

Gilbert’s craves you. He wants you. He’s desperately, completely obsessed with you and this is terrible. It’s terrible because Gilbert’s a fae, and when the fair-folk loves someone, it consumes them. 

 Gilbert loves you, and he knows in his soul that he can’t let you go yet, and soon enough, he’ll be forced to. 

As Gilbert stands in the hallway with one of his oldest friends, he is unable to come to terms with that fact yet. He looks back to the room where he left you and notices it’s now quiet. 

“Where is she?” He asks Francis. 

“Toni was taking her to look around the library when I left.”

“He’s alone with her?”

“Don’t start that with me, Beilschmidt. I could have been the one to give her the tour.” 

And Gilbert doesn’t know which one of those options was worse. He thinks that any scenario where you’re off on your own where he can’t see you is torturous. He shakes his head. 

“I should go find her,” he nods to himself. 

“To tell her the truth?” 

Gilbert looks at the blond fey and Francis pinches his brow in frustration. He sighs. “I need a drink.”

Cause I can see how this will end

In all its bitter tragedy

I'll give you all I have to spend

And you'll give nothing back to me.

Francis had left Gilbert behind to go get something to calm his nerves, leaving Gilbert alone in the halls of his villa. Gilbert can feel the tension that’s settled in him but didn’t take up Francis’s offer to drown it in expensive wine. He has the sneaking suspicion that alcohol won’t be able to soothe him anymore. 

Gilbert walks down the hallway until he reaches the doors to the house’s library. It’s dimly lit by glamour-powered lamps that hang off the walls. He pushed open the door a crack and looks in. 

A lantern sits on a table in the centre of a semi-circle of couches, and to the side, you and Antoni talk while you walk along the tall bookcases. He can only see the back of you from where he’s standing but Toni notices him come in right away. 

While you’re distracted with your browsing, Antoni wiggles his eyebrows at him and leans just a bit too close to you. Gilbert glares and motions his head towards the door.  Go!

Toni rolls his eyes and shoots him a look that says, “don’t be so jealous,” before he leans towards you and whispers his goodbyes. You nod and whisper a thank you, and Toni quietly walks away. 

 “She nice,” he whispers to Gilbert as he slips out the door. “She’ll be good for you.”

The door closes behind him with an audible click you turn from the shelf to notice his arrival. 

“Where did you run off too?” You ask him. 

He’s fae, so he’s forced to tell you at least part of the truth. “Just into the hallway. Francis and I talked.”

“Well, sorry I didn’t wait for you. Toni didn’t give me a chance to tell you where we were headed before he dragged me to see this place.” 

You continue browsing through the aisles, getting lost in your thoughts. The lantern gives you a faint orange glow as you shuffle along the bookshelf with your back turned to him again. It gives him the chance to look at you more, a pastime he can’t stop doing the longer he spends with you. 

“You don’t have to stay here, you know.” You say softly. “I’m sure you’d rather be drinking with your friends, catching up.”

There’s no way he could do that. 

When Gilbert looks at you, his heart aches. He feels like he felt when he was locked in his prison. Hungry, ravenous for any bit of you that he can get. His nerves feel like they’re set on fire.

Gilbert feels himself step closer to you. His shoulder leans against the bookshelf, his slim figure loom just beside you. 

“Do you not want company?” 

“It’s not that..” 

You look up at him through your lashes and his mouth goes dry. That thing in him stirs. He itches to just grab you. He imagines tangling his hands into your hair, pulling you close, and never letting you go. You pause and swallow something in your throat. “What are you doing, Gil?” You whisper. 

Gilbert’s found himself leaning closer to you, crowding you. he tries to pull away. He can’t quite bring himself to do it. 

He clears his throat. “Tomorrow we’ll take the Standing Stones to the other side of the Woods. We’re almost done.” 

You nod slowly, your brows pulled up into a soft, worried expression. “I know.”

Gilbert swallows, and can’t stop his next words from leaving his mouth. “When this is over, you’d be welcome to stay.”

“I’m sorry?”

“You could stay here,” he repeats, more firm before quieting down to add, “if you’d like.” 

A soft breath leaves you and you purse your lips. “You know I can’t do that,” you say, so softy his ears barely hear it. You back away and turn down another aisle of shelves. Gilbert follows after you. 

“You could.” He leans in. Your eyes shine in the dim candlelight of the library, your features only slightly illuminated in this tucked-away area of the room. It's quiet. It’s so quiet that Gilbert can hear your breath catch.

“What do you want from me, Gil?” Your eyes drift from his, down his face and then back up. 

You said that to him before once, that first night you met him. Inside his prison, under cold, blue light instead of this warm orange, you had asked him what he wanted from you and you told him what you had wanted in return. In the rows of bookshelves inside his prison, similar to the scene playing out now, the two of you made your deal, and to seal it, he’d kissed you. 

And now, history’s going to repeat itself. 

“Gil?” He leans in more, and you are backed into the shelf behind you. Your eyes droop and you lick your lips. “This is a bad idea.” You say. 

“Then tell me to stop.” 

Tell me to go and I will. Tell me you don’t want this. Tell me you don’t feel this pull like I do.

You tilt your head up to him. Your throat bobs. “Gil-“

He kisses you. He brings both hands up to cup your face and he kisses you as he did all those days ago. You make some delicious noise and he can feel your hands slide up his chest and around his neck. When that makes him breathe out just a little too heavy, he can’t bother being embarrassed. He couldn't care if he was panting and moaning like a virgin. He can feel you touching him and he can feel his soul sing, the magic that flows through him hum. Why the fuck didn’t he do this sooner?

One of his hands trails down your back and settles firmly on your waist. Your breaths mingle together, his teeth catching at your bottom lip. His hands rove over your hips and squeeze into your thighs before he lifts you and wraps them around his waist. Suddenly, you’re spinning around and he sets you on a small table in the corner. 

Your teeth clink together, and your taste permeates him. Gilbert’s starting to think that your kisses could make him drunk. His fingers thread through your hair and he tugs your head back, exposing the smooth skin of your neck. 

You gasp. “Gil-“

He trails down your kissing some spots and nipping others. He feels your hands trail into his white hair. You grab the strands and pull his face back up. 

 “Gil!” 

He can’t even think about that. He kisses you again, your lips are swollen but you still kiss him back, and it’s so good and sweet and lovely. So lovely and beautiful that he can’t stop mumbling those things under his breath in between the kisses. 

He breaths, the fevered pace he’s set slows down until his mouth is far more gentle, and he leans is slower and softer, and your hands are still tangled in his silver hair. 

“Gilbert.” He pulls away, one final time. A string of saliva connects the two of you and all the two of you can hear is the gasping for breath in the dim corner of the library. 

“We can’t do this.” You whisper. 

He presses his forehead to yours. 

“Yes, we can.” He says. “You can. Stay, please.”

“I can’t. I have people waiting for me. I have a life. I might not be magic, or fae, or a warrior but I have things, people waiting for me in the Mortal World. I have to get back to them.” You place the palm of your hand and push his way. It’s gentle, not harsh or cruel, just the firm decision of someone who’s always done the right thing, always followed her mind instead of her soul.

You push yourself off the table where Gilbert had placed you, and walk towards the door. He reaches to stop you from leaving you. He can’t help himself. He has to try. His pale hand wraps around your forearm.

“Don’t.” You look back at him and your eyes are watering.

“I’m sorry.” Gilbert let’s go. He doesn’t want you to cry.

“It’s okay, really. I’m not mad. I just…” you sigh. “Tell everyone I’ve headed to bed, okay?” 

You turn away and scurry out the door, disappearing into the hallway. Gilbert is left in the library alone. He bends down and leans on the table. He rubs his face and left out a sigh. He feels like kicking himself. 

Why the fuck did he do that?

Everything I’ve ever let go of 

Has claw marks on it

author's notes

I am so sorry for this. This chapter wasn't beta-read so im sorry that it's probably not very good. Also this was my first make out scene I’ve every written so I hope it was okay!

Weeee! I did it! I am so sorry that my writing is so slow, but I’m glad I got this done!

quotes

1. Sedated by Hozier

2.As It Was by Hozier

3. This Will End by The Oh Hellos

4. This Will End by The Oh Hellos

5. Quote by David Foster Wallace

tagging list: @jtownraindancer, @redrosesociety1, @xxruinaxx

[knifemartin]

hi hello yeah could i have ummm artie malevolent with a large 🛁 and some ✋ on the side thanks

I can't believe you asked for this combo, jerry. wth.

bath and hand-in-hair??? fades to black with absolutely NO comment.

“Jesus, Arthur, we’re fucking filthy,” John whines, running his hand through the bathwater so it ripples out, creating tiny waves that lap up against the rest of Arthur’s skin. Arthur sighs deeply from somewhere beneath his bones. 

“Hence the bath, John,” he says through gritted teeth, and sinks further into the water, chasing its warmth. It feels unbelievably good to lie down, to rest his tired legs and to let his head lean back on the rim of the bath, the steam clearing his lungs as he breathes it in. 

“Wash yourself, then,” John presses. “There’s mud all up both of your legs, and the dirt under our fingernails seems to have made itself at home there. There’s a layer of grime on our hands that has only been getting steadily worse since we last had a proper rest, and your hair is in desperate need of some soap. There’s a small cake of it to your right, Arthur, resting in a dish at the foot of the bath.” 

“Give me a minute, John,” Arthur sighs. He doesn’t move, doesn’t follow John’s instructions, and he can feel the impatience rolling through his mind like a lost cart wheel. 

John does fall silent at that, and Arthur slips into his newly won peace with pleasure, his mind falling blissfully blank. There’s plenty to think about, plenty to worry about, but he manages to shove it all aside for a moment and think of nothing but how good it feels to be soaking in warm water with a freshly-made bed waiting for him. 

“It’s been a minute,” John says unhelpfully, bursting into Arthur’s bubble of respite and popping it cleanly. 

“Jesus, John– figure of speech.” Arthur groans, scrubbing his hand over his face in exasperation. John’s boredom is not his problem, but it seems that John disagrees entirely. “I’m not– just, I don’t know. Tell me about something else. I will clean up, but I’ll do that later. It’s not my priority right now, okay?”  

“Fine,” John says at last, and Arthur opens his eyes and looks around the room to help him out for a moment. “There’s sunlight streaming in through the window,” John tells him. “It’s opaque on the lower half, but it’s a tall window and it opens from the top. A couple of leaves, pale green and flickering in the breeze, stretch out behind the glass, but they don’t reach far enough to block the sun out.” 

Arthur hums, not really listening to John as he settles himself in, getting more comfortable. John keeps talking, his low voice slipping further from Arthur’s mind until he can no longer make out individual words, no longer tries to. 

He could fall asleep in here, warm for the first time since before the Dreamlands, since before John. Relaxed enough for his thoughts to take flight, drifting like bubbles from his mind as his breath evens out, his pulse slows- 

There’s a weight on his head and Arthur snaps his eyes open for John, sits bolt upright. A hand with strong fingers digging into his scalp, and Arthur– “John!” He shouts, reaching up with his right hand to free himself from their grip, but they’ve already let go and Arthur’s left chasing empty air. “Jesus fucking- John!” 

“Arthur.” John’s voice is steady and calm, still there, still there–

“Who’s there? John, there’s someone, I felt–” 

“It’s just us in here, Arthur,” John promises, and he hasn’t a shred of the panic that spikes through Arthur’s veins. “We’re alone.” 

“No,” Arthur insists, turning his head so John can see around the whole room. “No, no, because I felt someone, someone grabbed us, John, and– and you were supposed to keep an eye out! You said you’d sit watch!” 

“You had your eyes closed, Arthur. You can’t blame me for not seeing a threat when you close your fucking eyes!” There’s still no urgency to his voice, though, and he hasn’t mentioned anything seeming to be off. Still, the hairs on the back of Arthur’s neck stand tall. 

“Listen, then! You–” 

“You can hear just as well as I can–” 

“No, I know, but I was resting, John! It’s been a long fucking day, week, life, with you– And I’m the one who can actually feel the toll all this running around takes on this body of ours, I’m the one who–” Arthur cuts himself off, the pieces clicking together in his mind. John stays silent, too, and Arthur’s willing to bet he’s glaring daggers right about now. “That was your hand,” he says, unable to keep the grin from his voice. “That was you.” 

“I didn’t know you’d get so scared,” John snaps back, already on the defense. 

“You grabbed my fucking head, John!” Arthur laughs, sinking back into the bath, the foot he can feel poking its toes out the other end. “I was drifting off and you grabbed my head, and you didn’t think I’d get a fright?” 

“I was being nice,” John growls, a petulant child once again. Arthur can’t picture him– of course he can’t, but he can picture the way John’d be standing right now, if he had a body. How he’d cross his arms over his chest and he’d huff and he’d puff, and the image in his mind bubbles out of him in lighthearted laughter. John positively bristles at the sound. 

“That’s not nice, John,” Arthur chides. “Give a man some warning next time, alright? I thought someone was going to snap my neck, or drag me under, or, or, I don’t know.” 

John says nothing for a moment, and Arthur can’t tell if he’s processing or just sitting in his tantrum for a while longer, but he doesn't really care anymore. The bath water’s not cold by any means, but it’s starting to lose some of that precious heat, and Arthur isn’t sure he’s going to get that level of comfort back. 

“What was it, then?” Arthur asks, letting his eyes drift shut again now that he knows there’s no one else in the room with them. 

“What?” 

“What were you doing? You said you were being nice.” 

John huffs, a sharp exhale of a breath he can’t actually take, and Arthur feels his lips curl with amusement in response. “You’ll just laugh at me,” John grumbles, doing nothing to help the situation. 

“No I won’t,” Arthur lies, and there’s no way John believes him either, but he relents. 

“You were… you were tired. And unclean. I thought I would help while you slept.” 

John, so desperate to get them clean. John, impatient with Arthur’s need for rest. Arthur raises an eyebrow, but it’s lost on John. “So you were… going to wash my hair?” 

“You’re laughing at me!” John growls, and he gestures something with his hand; Arthur can feel it in the way his body twists with the motion. 

“No, no, I’m not!” He promises, hand held up placatingly. He rolls the thought over in his mind, the idea of John’s hand in his hair, washing him so he doesn’t have to. It’s not… it’s not entirely unpleasant. “You’re– you’re right, John. That is nice.” His voice softens with the admission, quiet enough not to bounce off the tiled walls of this bathroom. On his right, John had said. At the food of the bath. 

Arthur sits up, ignoring John’s questioning as he reaches, patting around for the cake. He knocks it into the water when he finds it, but it’s easy enough to dig out, and he presses it into John’s hand. 

“Arthur, I,” John stammers, and Arthur lays back down. 

“There’s your soap,” Arthur tells him, closing his eyes. John’ll be fine, he’s sure of it. 

“Well, now I don’t even want to,” John mutters, but Arthur knows that tone, knows he’s just painfully shy of coming across as human as he is. 

“Well, I want it,” Arthur promises him. “Humour me?” 

He can feel John’s reluctance as if it’s something tangible, something physical that seeps out from where their minds merge and into the light of day, as if even then he’d be able to see it. But John moves, slowly and carefully this time, and now that Arthur knows what to expect he waits calmly, ready. 

John starts with Arthur’s face, and there must’ve been a cloth he hadn’t mentioned because it’s not their hand Arthur can feel wiping the dirt from his cheeks. It’s both soft and coarse, and above all it’s warm as it traces over his skin. John is careful, more careful than Arthur could’ve imagined him to be, and he switches between wringing the cloth out as best he can with a single hand and cleaning Arthur up. 

“Move your…” John says quietly, and Arthur tilts his chin up so John can clean his neck, wipe the sweat and dust from the hollow of his throat down to his collarbones, across to his right shoulder. It’s a movement that this hand has done countless times, but it’s a foreign feeling to receive this care through John, and Arthur’s torn between turning that over in his mind, inspecting it from all angles, and leaving well enough alone and just letting himself be cleaned. 

“Is this, is it,” John asks, his movements faltering as he trails down to Arthur’s fingertips, then back up again. “Helping?” 

“You’re the one who can see,” Arthur teases him, then bites his tongue. Last thing he wants now is John to realise the intimacy of this and bolt in the other direction, to hide behind his desperate walls of berating and anger. No, Arthur wants his hair washed. “You’re doing good, John," he says gently, and they’re bordering on something new here, but it’s a direction they’ve been slipping down for weeks now, and he’s not sure either of them could stop it if they even tried.  

John moves his hand again, and Arthur misses the warmth of the soaked cloth for the moment it takes for John to submerge it. He brings it higher, this time, and squeezes it out over Arthur’s head. The water trickles down his face, and the surprise of it startles a small laugh from him. 

“Sorry,” he says quickly, wiping his eyes dry more from habit than necessity. “Tickles.” 

John hums but doesn’t say anything, and then his hand is in Arthur’s hair and massaging the water deep into his roots. His grip is firm as he scratches Arthur's head, squeezes down the back of his neck. If John can feel the goosebumps rising with his touch, then he says nothing of it as his fingers skim back up into Arthur’s hair, lathering the soap along the way. He gets more confident as he goes, blunt fingernails digging into the soft flesh behind each of Arthur’s ears, wiping the suds off his forehead before they drip into their eyes. Not sure who would feel that pain, but Arthur doesn’t want to find out. 

Arthur makes no sound when John pulls his hand from his hair, but it’s a close thing, a grunt of protest dying in his throat. Doesn’t matter, though, because John’s back with more water, rinsing Arthur’s head clean of grime and soap and his very own soft touch. 

“If you sit up,” John says softly when he’s finished washing Arthur’s hair and can’t reasonably linger for any longer, “then I can reach our legs.” 

Arthur hums in response, not quite ready to comply but knowing he doesn’t have long. He lays there, soaking in it all, for just a moment longer. It’s a luxury, this bath, this privacy, and he doesn’t know when they’ll next get the chance for this kind of indulgence. He grips the rim of the bath with his right hand, trusting John to steady him with the other. 

“Alright,” he says, sitting up and pulling his knees in. “Alright.” 

[bitsandbobsofwriting]

Magic is legal, Arthur knows The Truth and Merlin is... shit at explaining things:

Arthur demands a trip to visit the Druids, who are far more qualified than Merlin, so they can explain this whole... destiny thing.

I’ve written a lot of angst and Hurt!Merlin recently, so I just wanted to write something short and sweet and fluffy :)

SO.

Magic has been legalised, Merlin is Court Sorcerer, all the knights are alive and happy, Morgana is good, and the only thing Arthur has to worry about right now is what the hell to do about the rapidly growing crush he has on his BestFriend™.

After the dust had settled, Merlin had tried to sit Arthur down and tell him the whole story; all about Emrys, and the prophecies, and destiny. The King already knew about Merlin’s magic, and roughly how powerful he is, but that’s it.

But Merlin went so long barely mentioning it at all, not even to Gaius or Morgana or Lancelot, that he’s still not entirely sure what to say. Years of hiding and lying and trying desperately not to think about it, mean his brain now blanks when he tries to explain it.

After far too long of Arthur looking on confusedly whilst Merlin rambled on about dragons and coins and mental links and names, The Court Sorcerer gave up, and decided to just not bother.

Arthur, of course, decided that giving up was stupid, and made the executive decision that they would just go to the Druids, and someone who actual knew what they were talking about could explain it thoroughly. Maybe even allow Arthur to read the original prophecies.

Plus, it turned out that Initiating a Golden Age took quite a lot of work, so neither of them had had a chance to leave the city for weeks. They could do with the fresh air. And if Arthur saw it as a good chance to be properly alone with Merlin for more than half a candle mark? No one else needed to know, least of all Merlin.

~

It was a pleasant journey through the woods. The silences comfortable, and the conversations easy and filled with smiles.

Magic had only been legalised for about a fortnight, and after over twenty years of fear, magic users were still understandably cautious, meaning the closest Druid camp was still a two days ride away.

But that wasn’t a problem. With Merlin now able to use his magic openly, and therefor more able to defend his King, he found he was far less anxious about the trip outside the city than he would’ve been before. And if his good mood bled into the environment around them? Well... it was spring... surely no one would notice the extra flowers and abundance of butterflies?

(Arthur definitely noticed. But Merlin was still... wary, of performing sorcery openly, in fear of scaring the people who had been sucked in by two decades of propaganda and fear-mongering. Meaning Arthur sure as shit wasn’t going to point it out, in case Merlin stopped.)

It was around noon, and the sun was shining down on them when Merlin pulled his horse to a stop. He dismounts effortlessly, and hands a confused Arthur his reins. At Arthur’s raised eyebrow, Merlin sighs and speaks quietly:

“The camp is about two minutes further on but... the change in the law was only recent, and...-”

He bites his lip and looks away, worrying Arthur slightly, before continuing:

“-well, chainmail and red capes still make them a little nervous. I’ve already warned their leader that we’re coming-”

He taps his temple briefly:

“-but I should go ahead and explain properly.”

Arthur nods in understanding, and gives Merlin a comforting smile:

“I completely understand, Merlin. How long do you want me to wait, or will you come back to get me?”

Merlin returns his smile, before saying:

“Just wait ten minutes then follow me, straight down the path. Bring the horses, there’ll be somewhere to tie them there. You shouldn’t run into any trouble this close to a camp, but you do have a track-record so-”

Merlin laughs at Arthur’s indignant expression, but continues before he can interrupt him:

“-if you do, just yell. We won’t be too far away, we’ll hear you.”

Arthur rolls his eyes fondly and shoos Merlin away. The Warlock laughs as he turns and continues down the path on foot. Just before he disappears behind a large bush, he turns around again, a slightly concerned expression on his face:

“I might look a bit... different? But don’t mention it, they’re quite fond of me... uh... dressing the part.”

Arthur huffs out a laugh before saying:

“I’m sure I won’t forget what you look like in ten minutes, Merlin. Go.”

Merlin hums thoughtfully, and turns back around, disappearing into the trees and leaving Arthur to his thoughts.

After a few moments, he removes his cloak, tucking it into a saddlebag. He also, after only a little hesitation, removes his sword, strapping it to his saddle. It was still visible and easily within reach, but not so threateningly on display at his hip.

He was entering these people’s home, after personally wielding the sharp edge of their persecution for almost a decade; the least he could do was make them as comfortable as possible.

He hadn’t mentioned it to anyone, not even Merlin, but he had a feeling that this meet was going to end up being about more than the prophecies. Peace had been harboured, magic had been legalised, but like Merlin had pointed out, things were still a little tense. This meeting was a way to show the Druids that Arthur meant it, that his whole heart was behind this change. The he was not his father.

Arthur was a little nervous (not that he’d ever admit that), this was important. Not just to him and the kingdom, but to Merlin personally. He had to get this right. One of the only things that Arthur had managed to get out of Merlin, to do with the whole destiny thing, was that it was finished. It was done.

If Arthur messes this up, not only will it ruin the peace they had been working so hard for... then Merlin might leave. He has no reason to stay after-all, he’s done his job. So Arthur has to get this right, has to impress everyone, now more than ever, because if he fails and the Druids all leave Camelot, then Merlin would leave with them.

And that thought was... unbearable.

He counts down the minutes, getting more and more tense. He tried to distract himself by thinking about what Merlin had said, “dressing the part” what does that even mean?

But it doesn’t work. Soon enough his brain is throwing thought after paranoid thought at him, about all the possible ways Merlin could tell Arthur he hated him, and leave forever and ever.

Arthur rubbed his eyes harshly, muttering to himself about how he really should’ve accepted the “relaxing tea” Gaius had offered him before they left. Other than Merlin, the old physician is the only one who ever seems to know what he needs in the moment, Arthur should definitely learn to listen to him more.

He finally reaches zero in his mental countdown, and sighs before standing from where he’d sat on a fallen log. He’d allowed the horses to wander a bit but they were trained to stay close by, so he has no problem gathering their reins again and leading them slowly down the path Merlin had followed.

All Druid camps were different. Some moved around constantly, some stayed fairly still. Some were huge, acres large with hundreds of people, others were small, only ten people or so. Some were occupied by mostly the sick and elderly, others were full of the young and adventurous, and others were family orientated.

And of course it was rare, according to Gaius, that someone would stay in the same camp their whole life. The Druids were a nomadic people, always shifting, drifting, wandering. Following a constantly tugging thread in their hearts, going where nature beckoned them.

According to Merlin, this specific camp was pretty small (around twenty adults) but it was also a fairly familial group, meaning lots of children. And if that didn’t make Arthur nervous (it definitely did) then nothing would.

Arthur didn’t have much experience with children, and definitely had no concept of how to act around them, especially Druid children.

After about a minute of walking, Arthur could hear loud laughter and quiet conversations floating through the trees. He slowed his pace; trying to appear unthreatening and friendly, or to delay the inevitable, he’s not quite sure.

He finally breaks through the treeline to see that... no one is even looking in his direction.

It was the middle of the day, so the camp was busy, people milling about everywhere, most of the tents open, various jobs getting done throughout the clearing.

But what immediately drew Arthur’s eye, was the source of the laughter.

The King looked across the clearing to see Merlin, in a whole new wardrobe, and a whole new light.

The man had changed from his simple travellers clothes (basically the clothes he’d worn as a manservant, just a bit newer and cleaner.) into a loose, white, lace up shirt (sleeves rolled up, which Arthur absolutely did NOT find himself staring at, thank you very much.) paired with slim black trousers.

But what was most striking, was the deep blue cloak billowing behind him, and the silver crown on his head. It was delicate, as if forged with vines and leaves and feathers, but it was oh so Merlin.

Arthur stayed at the edge of the clearing, glad that no one had noticed him; allowing him to stare in reverence at his best friend.

He was surrounded by young children, all laughing joyously as his eyes glowed golden and he waved his hands around. He needn’t mutter spells as he smiled widely, willing butterflies and bees to manifest in the air around him.

One of the younger children held his arms in the air and made grabbing motions with his hands. Merlin bent over and pulled him up into the air without a moment of hesitation, spinning him around on the spot (much to the kid’s enjoyment, who giggled outrageously), before settling him on his hip.

He used one hand to support the kid’s weight (when did Merlin get so strong??), and used the other to summon flowers around the feet of the rest of the children.

A fond smile spread across Arthur’s face as he saw them run around exuberantly, gathering the flowers in chubby hands to present to parents and siblings and friends.

Arthur laughed softly as he saw Merlin reply enthusiastically to something that the boy on his hip had said, and a second later, the child had a butterfly perched on the end of his nose. 

Arthur is broken from his concentration, jumping a foot in the air when a soft hand lands on his shoulder from behind.

He whips his head around, just about managing to stop himself from yelping and reaching for where his sword usually is at his hip.

He calms his breathing as his eyes find the friendly face of a Druid, an amused smile on his face. Arthur returns his smile, a tad shakily, suddenly feeling the nerves again, and nods his head respectfully.

The man keeps his hand on Arthur’s shoulder, but looks towards Merlin in the clearing, before softly saying:

“He’s quite something, your Emrys, isn’t he?”

Arthur gulps, also looking back at Merlin as he replies with a chuckle that was only slightly forced:

“He’s more yours than mine, especially like this, but yes, he is something special.”

The Druid laughs disbelievingly, and Arthur turns to look, a confused expression on his face as he listens to his reply:

“Definitely not. He’s always belonged to you more than he’s belonged to us-”

He stops laughing to look at Arthur, eyes sparkling with friendly mirth as he continues:

“-prophecy or no, he had a... well... a pre-carved place among the Druids, but he still chose to carve his own space by your side. I think that speaks volumes about where he truly belongs, or at least where he wants to belong, don’t you?”

Arthur doesn’t really have a response to that as he stares at the man with barely concealed bafflement, but luckily, before the silence stretches too long, the Druid gestures to the clearing:

“Come. Everyone is excited to meet you, though I warn you, the children in this camp can be rather energetic, as you’ve already seen.”

Arthur gulps and nods, following him into the centre of the camp.

Everyone’s attention is quickly caught by The King’s presence, and someone comes over to wordlessly take the horse’s reins from him.

The adults bow their heads slightly in respect, giving him soft smiles, and the children fidget on the spot, wide grins on their faces as they whisper conspiratorially to each other.

The boy in Merlin’s arms wiggles, and he gets put down. He rushes over to Arthur, grabbing his hand with a toothy grin and dragging him over to Merlin and the other children.

Merlin hides a laugh behind his hand as Arthur’s eyes widen, and his face goes pale. He thought this was going to be meetings and serious discussions and apologies, not playing with children!! What do children even like?! Swords?? Can he talk to them about swords??! Druids are pacifists right? So probably not??

He gets pulled down to crouch, and the children crowd him, all babbling at once, wildly showing him flowers and butterflies.

Merlin laughs at his bewildered fear for a few moments, before he crouches next to Arthur and holds his hands up, saying loudly:

“Alright, alright, you lot. Remember what I said?”

The children still, and a chorus of “Yes Lord Emrys” resounds from the group. With that, they stay silent, but still grin widely and bounce on the spot in excitement.

Arthur gives Merlin a stressed, but grateful smile, before looking back to the children. He takes a deep breath, before smiling at them, and saying:

“My name’s Arthur. Thank you for having me, I appreciate your hospitality.”

Merlin snorts at his overly formal tone, and has to stop himself laughing at the shock and fear on Arthur’s face when one of the younger ones loudly asks:

“What’s hosp-ee-tal-it-ee?”

Arthur furrows his brows, but luckily one of the teenagers steps in, quietly saying:

“It’s when someone comes into your home, and you’re nice to them.”

Arthur smiles and nods, and Merlin chuckles in amusement.

Thankfully (for Arthur) Merlin then stands and announces to the children that it’s lunch time, and to get washed up. They all rush off, and Arthur lets out a breath as he stands.

Merlin holds in yet another laugh, but tilts his head in confusion as Arthur’s gaze is once again drawn to the crown that rests on Merlin’s unruly hair.

Merlin flushes slightly when he realises what Arthur is looking at, looking to the floor and mumbling:

“You have no idea how long I’ve been trying to get them to just call me Merlin, but then they presented me with this a few months ago and I could hardly say no, could I?”

Arthur nods as Merlin looks up again, meeting his gaze. There’s a soft smile on his face, one that Merlin isn’t quite sure what to make of as he quietly replies:

“Hmm. Looks good on you.”

Merlin makes a surprised noise and his eyes go wide, the flush on his cheeks deepening as Arthur laughs gently at him.

Arthur puts his hand on Merlin’s shoulder, his thumb brushing against the skin of his neck in a way that was slightly more than friendly, but Merlin doesn’t pull away, so Arthur leaves his hand there as he looks around the bustling camp.

His smile falls into something more sad, and Merlin frowns at him curiously:

“Arthur? What is it?”

Arthur shakes his head slightly, not looking back at Merlin as he replies, almost whispering:

“Nothing. It’s just, last time I was this far into a Druid camp... I did terrible things. Look at this place, how could I ever have believed that magic was evil? It’s beautiful here.”

Merlin’s frown deepens, but before he can reply, a small hand tugs at Arthur’s sleeve, and the two of them look down suddenly to see one of the boys from before. He wore a confused expression, and whispered, as if he knew this was meant to be a secret conversation:

“What terrible things did you do, Mr King Sir?”

Merlin takes in a quiet gasp and widens his eyes, but before he can tell him off or lie, Arthur squeezes his shoulder, and crouches down in front of the child.

Arthur gives the boy a smile, and takes his hands, quietly saying:

“Well. When I was young, I was taught some things that are wrong, I didn’t question them, and because of that I did some really bad things. I thought I was being a good person, but actually I was being a bad person because I didn’t do my own research, and I didn’t know any better. But then I started learning how to be better, and now I do everything in my power to be an actual good person.-”

Arthur looks up at Merlin with a small smile on his face, before looking back down to the boy, who is hanging on to his every word:

“-Your Emrys is helping me with that. You see, he’s the best person I’ve ever met, and he’s helping me be more like him.”

Arthur resists the urge to look back at Merlin as he feels a firm, but shaky hand on his back, and instead looks at the child as he thinks over Arthur’s words. His face breaks into a grin, and Arthur returns the smile as the boy says:

“He’s the best isn’t he? I wanna be like him when I grow up!”

Arthur ruffles his hair, and replies quietly:

“Yeah kid, me too.”

The boy gives him a toothy grin, before running off once again, and Arthur lets out yet another breath he had been holding before standing up.

Merlin’s hand remains on his shoulder, and Arthur regrets meeting his gaze the moment he turns his head. But he also can’t rip his eyes away from the teary expression of awe and bewildered happiness on his face.

Merlin lets out a gentle laugh at Arthur’s apprehensive face before shaking his head, and looking back at him once again, this time amusement on his face:

“The best person you’ve ever met, huh?”

Arthur rolls his eyes and blushes deeply, pushing Merlin’s hand off his shoulder as he mumbles a flustered:

“Shut up, Merlin. I could hardly tell him the truth, could I?”

Merlin hums thoughtfully and replies with laughter in his voice:

“Hmm. That makes more sense, of course.”

Without waiting for Arthur’s reply, he grabs the King’s wrist and drags him towards a large tent in the corner of the clearing. Inside were two tables, one large, and one smaller and lower, both surrounded by benches.

Merlin directed them to bowls in the corner so they could wash their hands, before they sit at the larger of the two tables. Everyone over the ages of about fourteen joins them, the younger ones going to the smaller table.

Food appears, covering the surface, summoned from the cooking pots outside and the various food stores around the camp. Arthur tries to keep the wonderment off his face, but knows he failed miserably when he hears Merlin chuckle beside him. He punches Merlin’s leg under the table playfully, but that only makes him laugh harder.

He quietens when the man sat opposite Arthur stands:

“Today we have two honoured guests, our Lord Emrys, and the Once and Future King Arthur. We share our home, our food, and our welcome, for as long as they wish to stay. We raise our goblets to you, My Lords.”

At that, he raises his cup in the air, everyone else in the tent following him. Merlin smiles and nods at him, raising his own cup, and Arthur nervously copies his movements, comforted by Merlin’s reassuring hand on his knee.

With that, the Druid sits down, and conversation breaks out around the tent as everyone begins to eat.

Merlin handles most of the discussions, talking to everyone as if they were life long friends. Arthur is grateful for that, he answers any questions sent his way, asking a few polite ones in return, but Druid culture is so different to life in the city and Arthur doesn’t really know what he should be talking about.

Thankfully, the meal passes quickly, and after another announcement from the man Arthur now presumed was the leader here, the crowd dispersed, everything being cleared away with magic.

Not every Druid practiced sorcery, but they were clearly in a magic-heavy camp; Arthur could see it plain as day, everywhere he looked.

Merlin once again took Arthur’s wrist, leading him out into the sun. Usually, Arthur hated being led places, especially by the hand, but he found he didn’t quite mind it today. Whether it was because they were in Merlin’s domain, and Merlin was King here, or because of how nervous he was, or because of some other reason entirely, Arthur wasn’t sure, and frankly, he didn’t want to think too deeply about it.

This time, Merlin led them to another, smaller tent.

It had several comfortable looking chairs around a smallish circular table, which was covered in scrolls and parchments and old-looking books.

A few seconds later, they were joined by the Druid leader; he smiled softly at them and gestured for them to sit at the table. Merlin and Arthur sat next to each other, and the Druid kindly pretended not to notice them shuffling the chairs closer together.

The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur, Arthur having lost his nerves fairly early in the conversation. Maybe that had something to do with the fact that official meetings were his specialty, or maybe it was because Merlin’s hand once again found his knee, but stayed there this time. Who knows.

The Druid had introduced himself, and once more welcomed Arthur to the camp, before launching into explanations of the prophecies and destinies, and everyone’s roles in them.

Merlin knew most if it, and looked especially proud of himself when the Druid described in wonder how Merlin had changed the very fates of the Lady Morgana, Sir Mordred, and Arthur himself.

Arthur was definitely taken aback at that. Whilst Merlin had prattled on, making no sense, about his and Arthur’s destinies, he had never mentioned anyone else, and Arthur becomes increasingly glad he came here to sort it all out.

There were some bits that not even Merlin knew though. He wasn’t aware that the other knights, Guinevere, and Gaius featured in a few of the newer prophecies, and the Druid had an amused smile on his face when he admitted that he’d thought Merlin would have figured that out.

Arthur did laugh at him at that, and Merlin flushed before telling him:

“Shut up, or I’ll tell the others you said I was the best person you’ve ever met, and they’ll never let you live it down.”

Arthur narrows his eyes, and the Druid continues look at them in amusement as they bicker.

The meeting comes to an end just before dark, and Arthur thanks the Druid profusely, for welcoming him, and taking the time to go through everything thoroughly.

Another meal is had in the large tent, but when they leave this time, the clearing has been completely emptied. A large bonfire roars in the middle, and logs surround it, providing seating for everyone.

The evening is full of stories and music and magic, and Arthur once again finds himself wondering just how he thought any of this could be evil.

Even Merlin stands to lead a song. He moves around the clearing with yet another child sat sat on his hip, giggling as Merlin spins her around.

Arthur is surprised to learn that Merlin has a good voice, and stares in wonderment as he leads the melody as if it was what he was born to do. The rest of the Druids clap along, joining in loudly and harmonising and playing instruments in time with the tune.

When the song comes to a close, the crowd burst into cheers as Merlin looks back to Arthur, breathing deeply and cheeks flushed. The Warlock smiles widely as he settles the child back in her mother’s lap before walking back over to his seat, next to Arthur.

Arthur returns his wide grin with a soft smile of his own, and as the music continues around them, Merlin tilts his face in happy confusion:

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

Arthur just shakes his head slightly, smiling slightly wider as he responds without missing a beat:

“You’re beautiful like this. And you have an exceptional voice.”

Merlin flushes in surprise and looks to his lap, quietly muttering:

“I wouldn’t know about that...”

Arthur doesn’t look away, huffing out a laugh before replying:

“I mean it, Merlin. You just look... happy. Like you belong here.-”

He does look away here, staring into the fire with a thoughtful, but slightly mournful look on his face as Merlin peers up at him, curious. Arthur continues, even quieter, before Merlin can question him:

“-You know, I wouldn’t be angry if you wanted to stay. Here, I mean. I know magic is legal in Camelot now, but you belong somewhere like this. I would never begrudge you a home like this Merlin.”

Merlin laughs quietly, and takes Arthur’s hand, holding it in his lap like it’s something precious (it is, at least it is to Merlin). Arthur looks back at him in surprise, but doesn’t pull away as Merlin replies, still smiling:

“Home isn’t a place, Arthur, and the Druids know that better than anyone. Home is... home is wherever the people you love are. You are my people, Arthur, you and the knights and Gwen and Morgana and Gaius. My home is wherever you are. No matter my magic or title or destiny; my home will always be where you are.”

Arthur doesn’t let the tears in his eyes fall, but he does squeeze Merlin’s hand, giving him a tender smile that's returned without hesitation.

With the exchanging of smiles that any onlooker would describe as loving, the conversation comes to an easy close, and they spend the rest of the evening hand in hand, smiling fondly at the antics around them.

It’s late when the festivities come to an end, and Arthur and Merlin are exhausted, struggling to hold back yawns as they’re shown to a tent that had been set up for them.

Their bags had been removed from the horses and left in there, and the floor was covered in various blankets and pillows. There was a small trunk, for them to store anything they wished to unpack, and a few candles were lit, filling the room with a soft golden light and pleasant smells.

Merlin charms the tent to be soundproof so they don’t have to worry about noise (he may be openly able to use magic, but the idiot was still rather clumsy, and prone to accidental bangs and crashes), before removing his crown carefully. His cloak and boots follow shortly, and they all go neatly into the trunk, before he starts organising a spot to sleep.

After a few minutes, he realises that Arthur hasn’t moved from his space by the entrance, and Merlin turns around to look at him questioningly. Arthur’s eyebrows are furrowed, and he looks deep in thought as he stares at the floor, fiddling with the hem of his tunic.

Merlin walks over, concerned, and takes one of Arthur’s hands into his own. Arthur looks up at him suddenly, broken free of his thoughts, and Merlin raises an eyebrow at him as he strokes his thumb across The King’s knuckles:

“What’s wrong, Arthur?”

Arthur looks into Merlin’s eyes searchingly, but seems to find what he’s looking for after only a moment, and smiles. Merlin tilts his head to prompt him, and Arthur takes his other hand, before softly speaking:

“You know, I used to find the idea of falling in love frightening.-”

Merlin takes in a subtle deep breath, but Arthur doesn’t notice as he shakes his head, huffing out a gentle laugh before continuing, looking somewhere over Merlin’s shoulder:

“-The possibility that someone could have that much control over me; that I would willingly give another person dominion over my heart, my soul, my... everything, was terrifying to me. But I find I’m not scared anymore.-”

He looks back at Merlin’s shocked face. Arthur looks an odd mix of disbelieving, and happy beyond words as he continues, confident that what he’s saying is right, for the first time in a long time:

“-Because it’s you, Merlin. It’s always been you. And how could I possibly find falling in love with you anything other than beautiful?”

Merlin gulps, seemingly searching Arthur’s face for any hint of a lie. When he finds nothing but sincerity, he launches himself forward, almost knocking Arthur to the floor.

He wraps his arms around the blonde’s shoulders tightly, burying a hand in his hair, and his face in the crook of his neck. Arthur huffs out a laugh as he wraps his arms around Merlin’s waist, running a soft hand up and down his back.

At Merlin’s muttered:

“I love you, Arthur, more than anything is this world. My magic, my everything, belongs to you.”

Arthur pulls back, smiling. He leans forward pressing his forehead against Merlin’s, and cups his cheek softly with his hand. They stare into the blue of each other’s eyes for a moment, not in any hurry to move the moment along, Arthur running his thumb over Merlin’s cheekbone, and Merlin carding his fingers through Arthur’s hair.

Arthur takes a deep breath, before whispering, so quietly it’s a miracle Merlin hears him:

“Can I kiss you?”

Merlin nods infinitesimally, and the two of them lean forward, meeting in the middle in a soft kiss that could only be described as tender, and full of love.

If the stars shine brighter, and the wind blows warmer, and the animals of the dark seem happier that night... well... it was spring... surely no one would notice (Arthur definitely noticed, but he sure as shit wasn’t going to point it out, in case Merlin stopped).

~

THE END!!

This is the first one I’ve written in aaaaages that didn’t involve a dizzy/exhausted/sick Merlin so... yay me?

I just really wanted to write something fluffy, where there were no high stakes. No huge battles, or angsty confessions or anything like that, just a soft love story.

I genuinely got no clue what I’ll write next. I do have a few drafts and ideas floating around, but let me know if you’re after anything specific, I live to please :)

Like always, you wanna write this up properly with paragraphs and fleshed out stuff, go for it, credit and tag me :)

[sennamybeloved]

// gift giving!

~ ship; mary-beth gaskill x fox (s/i)

~ word count; 980-ish

~ authors note; women..............i love women. also i'm sorry if arthur's dialogue feels unnatural, i did not put as much thought into his characterization as i did mary-beth's. also i did not and will not proofread so i cannot gauge the quality of this fic.

~ reblogs appreciated!

“Fox! Miss Fox!” They hear Mary-Beth calling from across the camp. 

As they hear her footsteps approach, they finally put down the piece of wood they’ve been whittling for the past hour and turn around to face her. “Yes?”

Mary-Beth comes to a halt in front of them. She has an expression on her face that’s bright and warm, like sunshine, and she’s visibly excited over… something. Likely the thing she’s cupping in hands.

“I found somethin’ neat while I was in town! I thought you would like it…” she crouches down next to them. She slowly opens her hands, unveiling a small, semi-translucent purple crystal. From all of the books they’ve read, Fox can easily identify this stone as Amethyst, but… it’s quite rare to see it around here. In shops, in the ground, anywhere.

“Where did you get this?” They look up at Mary-Beth, wearing a slight-yet-genuine smile on their face.

“There was a vender sellin’ little trinkets and collectors items. He had a buncha cool stuff, but I’ve heard you talk about crystals a lot, so…”

Fox plucks the crystal from her open palm, holding it up to the light so they can inspect it. It’s as genuine as genuine can be… as far as they can tell.

“Mary, this is beautiful.” They muse, their smile widening. “Looks authentic, too. Fantastic find!”

She blooms under their praise, her cheeks reddening as she begins fidgeting with her hands.  “I’m glad y’ like it, Fox.”

They admire it for a moment longer, before turning to face Mary-Beth with a tiny smirk playing on their lips. “How much do you think this would’ve cost?” They ask.

“20 bucks.” She answers simply. “I’d know—I paid for it.”

Fox’s eyes widen. “You paid for this? Oh, now I’m even more honored. First time I’ve ever seen you pay for something, I think.”

She laughs aloud; a beautiful sound, like the chiming of silver bells of a tune from an expensive opera piano. It makes their heart skip.

“Oh shush, you have too seen me pay for things!” She gives their arm a playful shove. “I just… prefer robbin’ over payin’. You do too. We all do!”

“Simmer down missy, I never said it was a bad thing.” Fox chuckles.

They finally decide to pocket the crystal, stowing it away where it’ll be safe and they don’t risk losing it. Until they can get it back to their tent, that is. They then shift their attention—and their unwavering gratitude—towards Mary-Beth, who sits on the grass beside them, staring up at them with glimmering forest green eyes.

The afternoon sun highlights every detail of her beautiful face, from her thick, almost doll-like eyelashes to her freckled face, from the slight curve of her nose to the fullness of her cheeks. She’s gorgeous. Oh, so gorgeous. It nearly takes Fox’s breath away.

After a long moment, they finally find their words: “Thank you, Mary.” They whisper, cupping her face and pressing a gentle kiss on the bridge of her nose. 

She giggles sweetly, placing her hands over theirs and pressing their foreheads together. “It’s no problem at all, darling.”

They remain like that for a moment longer, nuzzling into each other as they bask in the moment… until they are (quite rudely) interrupted by a certain camp member's commentary.

“Good to see the lovebirds out and about.” Fox sighs and squeezes their eyes shut. Fucking Arthur.

“This is a private conversation, Morgan” They say to him, reluctantly pulling away from Mary-Beth’s touch so that they can get a better look at him.

“What’s so private about smoochin’ in the middle of camp?” He retaliates. Fox rolls their eyes.

“I guess not much, friend. Now could you leave us alone?” They snap back, and Arthur is quick to take the hint—as he usually is. I suppose that’s an upside to his nosey nature; when you tell him to piss off, he does.

Once he backs off, resuming his stroll around camp, Fox shifts their attention back to Mary-Beth. She doesn’t look at all bothered by the intrusion. As a matter of fact, she looks rather amused.

“Strange man, that one is.” Fox huffs.

“You’re a strange man too, Fox.” Mary-Beth replies, punctuating her words by pecking them on the lips. “Besides… perhaps Arthur was right. Maybe we should move this to one of our tents.”

They shrug. “Yeah, I guess. Any chores you should be doing right now?”

She shakes her head. “What about you?”

“Clearly not, since I’ve been carving a stick for the past however long. Till you showed up.”

With that, the pair rises to their feet. Mary-Beth takes Fox’s hand. Hers is much softer and more delicate than theirs, but they fit together so perfectly. They begin meandering towards her tent, attempting to avoid the prying eyes of camp members that may or may not need something from them.

Mary-Beth goes unchecked, but unfortunately, Fox catches Hosea’s eye. “Fox! Can you go help Arthur take care of the horses, please? I haven’t seen you up and moving all day.”

Fox lets out a loud and over-dramatic groan of annoyance. They just can’t have a moment without interruption today, can they? They reluctantly release their girlfriend’s hand, putting over to the horses, past Hosea, away from Mary-Beth’s tent. 

“Love can wait, Fox. Life, however, cannot.” Hosea commentates. They reply with a small, agitated ‘mhm’ and little else.

“I’ll see you in a bit, Fox!” Mary-Beth calls out. They glance over their shoulder to see her waving exuberantly. “Don’t take too long!”

That makes them smile and pick up their pace. Yeah, they will see her in a bit… which should inspire them to move through this faster; more diligently. That way, they can get back to her faster, and they can resume where they had left off. Who knew romance could be such an effective motivator? 

However, her newfound positivity is soon dulled by a familiar voice. 

“Good ol’ Hosea.” Arthur says, walking past Fox with a bale of hay in his arms.

“Shut up, Morgan.”

[ttuesday]

I see you're taking requests, would you spare but a fragment of your talent for a Arthur x m!reader fluff? Love your work!

anon I wanna give you such a big hug omg thank u so much ;-; I’m gonna frame this ask so I can look at it everyday

Word Count: ~900

Warnings: Unfortunately Mary Linton is mentioned in this fic :(

No one ever wants to spend the night on guard duty. It’s long, boring and very tiresome but sadly, someone has to do it. You sighed as you continued to stroll deeper into the woods, the lights at camp getting smaller and smaller until they disappeared.

You walked around for a while, listened out for any suspicious noises and cleaned the rifle you brought out with you, before you eventually stopped by one of the trees.

You let the rifle fall against the tree trunk as you took out your pocket watch. You expected your shift to be nearly over, you were practically waiting for the sun to begin to rise any minute but unfortunately it was just past midnight.

You rested your weight against the tree and shut your eyes. It wasn’t fair that you had to go on guard duty. You had spent the day robbing some poor bastard’s out by Emerald Ranch and when you got back to camp, you helped Hosea plan a con. To say you had a busy day was an understatement.

You were so focused on your thoughts, you didn’t hear Arthur’s footsteps as he approached. “Looks like you’re doing a great job on guard” he chuckled, sarcasm coating his voice.

You jumped, eyes momentarily widening before you realized it was Arthur. “Well how’s about you go on guard instead” you huffed, gesturing to the gun.

Arthur raised his eyebrows, surprised by your tone “I’m just messing with you”.

You sighed “I know, sorry, I’m kinda tired and being out here is more boring than listening to Dutch go on about philosophy”.

A smirk spread across Arthur’s face “Aren’t you lucky I brought out these then”. He lifted his arm up to reveal his satchel full of beer bottles.

With Arthur by your side and a beer in your hand, the night began to move faster. You weren’t technically watching out for any intruders, you were too distracted by Arthur to do that but no one ever sees anything while they’re on guard duty anyways.

You both sat together under the tree, your head resting against his shoulder as the two of you laughed about something Uncle did earlier that day.

As the laughter died down, Arthur lowered his gaze to the bottle in his hands. “I uh, I got a letter today,” he took a deep breath before he continued “it’s from Mary Linton”.

For a second, all you could feel was dread. Question after question popped up in your mind but your mouth had gotten so dry, it was as if you couldn’t ask a single one.

You tried to speak but all you were able to say was “Really?”.

“She wants to talk,” Arthur revealed “apparently she’s staying in some house by Valentine”. You took a small sip of your drink and turned to look at him properly “Arthur, you know that’s a bad idea”. He sighed but didn’t meet your gaze.

You continued “I’m saying this to you as your friend, I don’t think-“.

“Oh you’re saying this to me as my friend?” Arthur repeated, finally looking at you. You shrugged, a small smirk playing at your lips.

“Well, I was trying not to be biased but if there was any handsome, good with his hands, slightly awkward men that’ve grabbed your attention then I would focus on him instead of Mary” you teased, easing the dread in your stomach.

“Y’know, I know a feller exactly like that actually” Arthur smiled, his arm snaking around your waist.

“He sounds like a great guy” you continued to talk about yourself.

Arthur trailed his hand up your back “Yeah I guess so, the only problem is he gets distracted easily when he’s supposed to be on guard duty”. You rolled your eyes and Arthur gently pressed his hand against your back. You leaned in and Arthur met you halfway, his lips meeting yours in a fiery kiss.

It was as if a magnetic force pulled you both together, you became entangled with one another. Arthur’s leg moved in between yours and pressed against you. Your hand held the side of his face as his stubble brushed against your cheek. Arthur broke the kiss and said “I’m burning the letter”.

“You don’t have to burn the letter for me” you replied, not wanting him to feel pressured into burning it.

“I ain’t burning the letter for you, I’m burning it for us” he smiled before peppering kisses along your jawline. You brought your hand up and ran your fingers through his soft hair. 

“You’re who I care about, Mary can sort her own damn problems” he mumbled against your skin. You could feel your cheeks get hot. It was nice to hear Arthur say that, it made you feel special. 

He looked up at you as if he could sense you were blushing. Arthur gave you a short, quick kiss “I… I really care about you, you know that right?”.

There was no way to describe the feeling you had in your chest. It was a tender, warm sensation that you could feel throughout your entire body. You nodded your head “I care about you too”.

Arthur kissed you again and although you had yet to tell him, you knew that you loved him.

[queenxxxsupreme]

Rare Mornings

A/N: I just got to Chapter 6 and it’s all fucking sad and I just need my cowboy to be happy so this takes place at Clemens Point but there’s no spoilers. <<< This was a note I left when I first made this but I have since passed Chapter 6 and I am sad. This doesn’t have a first part and is a stand alone (for now at least) If you saw my previous post about accidentally making a part 2 to something that doesn’t even have a part 1, this is it. Sorry if anything is confusing

Warnings: none, pure fluff

Summary: Quiet mornings with Arthur are rare, but they’re something you enjoy when you can.

***

Thunder rumbled quietly in the clouds above camp. Rain tapped against the canvas of the tent, the gentle noise creating a relaxing ambiance. 

It was early in the morning. The sun was just beginning to peak over the horizon. Arthur would usually be up by now, getting ready for the day. But he couldn’t bring himself to get out of bed just yet. You were too peaceful of a sight to leave. 

The cot you were sharing was small, but you both had learned to make it work. While Arthur was on his back with one hand behind his head and his other arm wrapped securely around you, you were on your side tucked into him. Your head rested on his shoulder and one of your legs was thrown up over his hips. 

Arthur kept his eyes on you, watching the way you tried to fight falling back asleep. You woke up some time ago after nearly rolling off of the cot and you were doing your damnedest not to fall asleep again. You wanted to spend as much time with Arthur as you could. 

But it seemed like you were losing your battle with sleep. Your eyelids grew heavy and your head began to sink forward on his shoulder. Then you jolted suddenly, sucking in a sharp breath and rubbing your eyes. 

Arthur chuckled softly. 

“Just go back to sleep, pumpkin.”

“No.” You insisted. “This is one of the few times me and you get to spend time alone without everyone and their brother botherin’ us. M’not sleepin’ for shit.”

He kissed your forehead, his hand at the small of your back tracing circles on the material of your chemise. 

“I’m thinkin’ I need to go take a trip to one of those fancy boutiques they got in Saint Denis.” You repositioned your head on his shoulder so you could get a better look at him. 

“Yeah? What’re you gonna get at one of them places?” He raised his brows inquisitively. You propped yourself up on one elbow, pulling the sleeve to your chemise up into place on your shoulder. 

“Molly says they’ve got really nice clothes there. Says maybe even somethin’ you might like.” You looked down at his chest. Your eyes found a scar that cut across his sternum. You traced the jagged, pale line with your index finger. 

“Oh, I doubt one of them boutiques would have somethin’ I’d like.”

“Not for you, silly.” You giggled softly, swatting at his chest. He caught your hand and brought your fingers down to his lips where he could press kisses into the pads of your fingers. “For me to wear for you.”

A sly grin came to his lips. 

“Shit, pumpkin.” He kissed your palm and then placed your hand on his chest. “I wouldn’t want ya wearin’ anythin’ like that around camp. If anyone else saw ya in that…. I’d get in a whole hell of a lot of trouble.”

“Oh, I don’t think I’d ever wear anything like that around here.” You shook your head. “I already don’t like how Micah looks at me.”

“I’m just waitin’ for the right time to start swingin.” Arthur muttered, shaking his head. “Don’t you worry.”

“Deserves a lot more if you ask me.” You sighed. “But I don’t want to think about him.”

“I don’t either. Ugly bastard makes me wanna puke.” Arthur scrunched his nose up. 

There were a few moments where neither of you said anything. You heard a little bit of movement outside of the tent. 

“I wish we could have more time to ourselves.” You moved around on the cot so that you could sit on his lower stomach. “There ain’t even walls here. We can’t talk without worryin’ bout someone hearin’ us unless we talk early like this.”

“I know.” He sighed softly, bringing his hands from the outsides of your thighs to your knees where the hem of your chemise was bunched up. He played with the lacy hem for a few minutes. “Maybe after all this here settles…. Maybe we can take a trip somewhere. Just the two of us. We’ll find somewhere nice to stay for a couple days, somewhere I can spoil you.”

His fingers pushed the hem of your chemise up a few inches, exposing your thighs to the cool morning air. 

“I heard…. I heard that there’s this place in Saint Denis. It’s a real nice place.” Arthur’s eyes focused on the locket that rested on your chest. “A little cute hotel. Couples go there when they wanna get away.”

“Ohh.” You smiled, leaning down to kiss the scar on his chin. “You aren’t just wanting to take me away for a couple days. This is a week long thing you’re wantin’ to do, Mr. Morgan.”

His eyes followed you as you sat back, baby blues focused on you as if you were the brightest star in the night sky. 

“I was thinkin…. Maybe for our honeymoon.” His voice was low. 

The smile fell from your mouth as your lips parted in realization. He wanted to do something special with you, he wanted to treat you to a weekend alone together and away from the hectic life of the gang. But more importantly, he wanted to marry you. 

Mistaking your silence for a negative reaction, Arthur shook his head and brought his hand up to rub his face. 

“We don’t- We don’t gotta do something like that. It’s just a stupid, silly idea.”

“Arthur, it’s not stupid.” You murmured, pulling his hand from his face. “And it’s not silly. I-I thought…. I just didn’t think you were serious when you told me that.” 

Arthur furrowed his brows as he looked at you. 

“Lemme sit up a second, pumpkin.” 

You shifted your weight to your knees, giving him the opportunity to slip his hips out from underneath you. He sat up, leaning against the chest that rested behind the cot. You sat just above his knees, messing nervously with your hands. 

“You didn’t think I was serious when I said I wanted to marry you?”

You looked down at your hand. Your eyes focused on your left ring finger. There was no ring there, therefore it was hard for you to wrap your head around the situation. It didn’t feel real. It felt like a dream. 

“Pumpkin, you know the only ring I got on me right now…. It’s the one from Mary.” Arthur’s voice was low as he spoke to you.

When you didn’t say anything, he hooked his index under your chin and tilted your head up so that you had no choice other than to look at him. 

“I ain’t proposin’ to you with that ring. The second I get the money and find the right one for you—,”

“Arthur, you know I don’t care about a silly little ring.” You cut him off, shaking your head softly. “I just…. I don’t know. There’s so much goin’ on right now. With-With Dutch and his plans for getting us somewhere where we won’t have to run from Pinkertons and O’Driscolls and Cornwall’s men…. Is now the right time for that?” 

Arthur watched you for a few silent moments. Then he let out a little breath and rubbed his scruffy chin. He took your hands in his. 

“The way I look at it, we ain’t gettin’ any younger. Those problems, they’ll always be there. We can wait if that’s what you wanna do, pumpkin. We can wait until it’s all over, until we get to Tahiti or Australia or wherever the hell Dutch is taking us. As long as I got you, I’m the luckiest man there is.”

You smiled, eyes leaving his to look down at where your hands met. 

“You’re such a sweetheart, Arthur Morgan.” You brushed your thumb across his knuckles. 

“Nah. I just know how to sweet talk you.” He leaned forward to kiss you softly. “So? What is it you wanna do?” 

“I wanna marry you.” You didn’t hesitate to answer. “What do you want?”

“I want that week away from these bastards here.”

He chuckled. 

“Arthur!”

“I’m kiddin’ you.” He leaned in to kiss your lips. “I wanna marry you too, pumpkin. More than you know. I think you’d make a perfect Mrs. Morgan.”

“Hmm. The best?” You began to climb out of his lap.

“Of course. Wouldn’t want any other.” His eyes followed you as you slipped on a pair of boots. “Where are you going?”

“To get us coffee.”

“You’ll be back, won’t you?”

“Of course. Haven’t gotten my ring yet.” 

The playful grin on your lips made his heart soar.

Taglist: @doggone-cowgirl @winterwolf @lauramb7 @caraqas @bluscryn @krenee1drful @zodiacaldust @nonodino @gabstaroc @cal-lifornication @thefirelordm @sargeantsea @sokkasdarling @thecollection @mayday1284 @kashasenpai @misskrql

If your name is in italics, it wouldn’t let me tag you :(

[liptonsbabe]

Chains of a family [B.W]

Bill Weasley x Grant! Reader

Chapter 1, Chapter 2

Summary: Molly knows about the reader’s relatives and she’s not so sure to put her trust in a girl that had just betrayed her own family

Word count: 1.9K

Warnings: Swearing

A/N: Hi! i’m so happy that you guys liked this thing! thank you so much for your support and, again, if you want to keep reading this let me know. Same note as ever, english not my mother language, so tell me if something’s is wrong.

Chapter 2: Not your family

The next morning turned out to be quieter than you imagined.

You slowly got out of bed and looked at everything around you noticing how quaint Bill's old room was. The ceiling was lined with grainy wallpaper with stacks of photographs of Quidditch players hanging from the reeds that moved from side to side, simulating the playing field; the right side of the room had a huge hole behind the small stool that tried to hide it, and from that hole a small garden gnome was sleeping peacefully with a small piece of cloth on top of his head. You stood up, walking towards the huge window that gave you a beautiful view of the Weasley's garden that at that moment was covered by a thin layer of drizzle that had fallen during the night.

Molly's fruit trees gleamed under the faint rays of the sun and you saw how a doxy from between the leaves poisoned Mrs. Weasley's apples, causing them to fall from the tree branches in a thick black mass with a foul smell coming out of it. You shook your head, excited to witness a very different way to wake up.

Even though several minutes have passed since you woke up, the house continued to remain in a strange silence that made you think that the family had decided to leave the burrow with the intention of buying more supplies or something like that. You knew that Bill wasn’t at home precisely for his obligations within the Order, so you didn’t worry about looking for him around the room, so you decided that a better option was going down to the dining room and know what was happening.

As you went down the spiral staircase, you cursed in a whisper when you forgot to put on your slippers before leaving the bedroom cause the floor was so cold that you slipped a couple of times. Back in the days, when you were still welcome in your parents' house, you had many servants who did all the things for you - putting on your shoes as soon as you woke up was one of those things - but now that your life had changed so much, you assumed that you would have to adapt and start taking care of your own needs.

Your curious eyes roamed the walls covered in family photos that caused a big warmth in your chest. In each of those photographs, all of Molly's children appeared along with their father, smiling for the camera and sending effusive greetings. A pic was hanging at the fireplace were Molly and Arthur were carrying a small white bundle crying his lungs out. You assumed it was Bill as his parents seemed too young back then and even as a small baby, you could recognize those tantrum features anywhere.

A giggle escaped your lips when you noticed a funny sequence from that same photo in which, even with Bill crying in his mother's arms, his father tried to carry him for a moment to calm him down, however the baby's cries didn’t stop. The baby was so annoyed that he ended throwing up  the milk ration that he must have had before the photo session on his father's neat shirt.

You laughed because you knew that William's impertinence was something he had carried with him for several years now.

"Bill hates those photos." You jumped in your place scared to see Molly standing behind you. Your cheeks turned red “He says that it’s embarassing but i think that’s nonsense. He was an adorable baby”

"he was," you answered, looking anywhere but into Molly's shrewd eyes. "but I guess displaying them in the fireplace isn’t the right thing to do."

“Is it not?

"No, they should be at the front door where everyone can see them”

Molly giggled as you watched the sequence of photos over and over again. A silence settled between you, but surprisingly it was not an awkward silence, but one that was allowing you to create a bond that neither of you expected. Mrs. Weaslsey brought up a rag, wiping it around the corners of the photo from the dust.

"Arthur and I had to save up for months to take those pictures," she mentioned wistfully, "we just had Bill and it seemed like a good idea to welcome him into our family with a gesture like that. Arthur was new in the ministry and wasn't earning too much, but we had that quirk and decided we could afford to skip certain things to pay for the pictures. It cost us ten galleons and it still took us four months to gather them”

“Oh” You didn't know what to say, but you just kept looking at the photograph feeling a bit uncomfortable. You never had those problems at home because your family was insanelly rich thanks to the inheritance in life that your grandfather Tim had left to his son and later to his grandchildren. Even the descendants of your grandfather's servants came to work in your house, reason enough for you and your siblings to grow up with no sense of responsibility other than your own wishes. Molly sighed remembering those times when life seemed to be easier.

"So when Bill asked me to remove it from the fireplace, I refused. He doesn't know how hard it was to raise that money, but I think he has nothing to be ashamed of, he was too adorable!

"I don't doubt it for a second, Mrs. Weasley."

"You can call me Molly," she said, walking back to the kitchen where you continued watching the way the pans moved back and forth preparing breakfast. You were not very good at cooking - in fact, you had never cooked before- however, that didn’t stop you from offering your help. So you took a pan, placed it on the stove, and decided that you would find a way to make a good mountain of strawberry-filled pancakes just like your dear nanny did. Molly observed you carefully. "I think that now that you are living with us it is appropriate to have a more cordial treatment.My son told me a lot about you”

“Just the good things, i hope”

“Kind of” You stopped mixing ingredients to look at her carefully” He told us a bunch of marvelous things about you and how you two met. Actually, what worries me the most is what he didn’t tell us”

And there was the recrimination you were waiting for. You were aware that it had to arrive sooner or later, however, you would have been grateful that it did it when Bill were by your side to give you the opportunity to defend yourself properly. You cleared your throat uncomfortably, knowing that what Molly needed to hear from your own lips was which family you came from. You continued your task with the pancakes, turning out as bad as you expected.

"I'm sorry it turned out this way, Mrs. Weasley."

"Molly," he corrected.

"Molly" you smiled slowly "But believe me when I tell you that it was me who asked William not to mention anything about my last name or where I come from. I know that in this case, with the war above our heads, it is necessary to be certain of the people who enter your family and I apologize for that, it's just ... Bill is very important to me” Molly's eyes narrowed “Since we met ... I have found a home in him and well, all that feels when someone is in love. "Mrs. Weasley shook her head, understanding the feeling." I have experienced the rejection before. When people know that Tom Riddle is my family ... they run away in fear, curse my family and even walk away from us, as if sharing a blood bond makes us as evil as he is.

“And it’s not like that?” Molly asked with a hand on her neck. She didn’t want to be like the others and judge you without knowing the full story, just as she had promised Bill the night before that she would, but it was so difficult not to remember the death of his brothers by Voldemort’s hands and to pretend nothing had happened in the past. You sighed because the eggs you cracked on the bowl got mixed with their own shell “ I've heard of the Grants before, they're all Death Eaters, including your siblings!”

“It is difficult to have to choose a side  when you don’t have your own convictions”

"And you have it?"

You looked at Molly in pain. Of course you expected those reactions from Bill's mother, she was within her right to be upset that her oldest son never told her that he was in a relationship with a girl who seemed to have the most fucking powerful and evil wizard in the world as a great-uncle. No, Molly wasn't mad, she was deadly angry, she felt like she was bursting!

Her hands became fists and without knowing how, you found yourself between the wall and Molly's big arms from one second to the other. The pancake batter was forgotten, as was the woman's promise to treat her son's girlfriend in a good way.

"How is it possible ..." Molly questioned in an agitated voice, pressing your arms against the wall, "... that a single deer leaves the nature of its own herd?" How can you ensure that one rotten apple even in a gold container doesn’t rot the others?”Your breath caught at the questions of the woman in front of you. Once again, you were aware that your presence wouldn’t be good news to them, but at least you hoped they understood your motives before judging you “Explain to me, (Y/ N) Grant, when have you seen a pig away from his equals?”

Your words caught in your throat at Molly's fierce question. Bill had talked a lot about the temper of his mother. Even if she could be really grumpy at times, she was in general a very sweet, pleasant and maternal woman with everyone; however, you didn’t fit into that generality because it seemed that the woman was determined to kill you with her own hands.

"If my presence bothers you so much, then you shouldn't have let Bill and I to stay here."

“He's my son! All I want for him is to be happy, and that's why I don't understand what he managed to see in you”

"Maybe the same thing you saw in your husband." Molly's lips twitched in anger, but you didn't stop. You hoped that she would at least understand what your words meant, because that would make it easier for both of you to try at least get along better, even if Molly seemed not to want to do it under any circumstances. How is it that this haughty little girl dared to compare herself with her dear and wonderful husband? "I'm sorry, but I don't think this conversation is going to take us anywhere."

"If someone betrays his own family ..." Molly stopped you before you walked out the front door. The others got down the stairs, seeing the scandal formed in the kitchen “The rest of us can't expect too much, can we?

Your eyes blured.

[thepeakygurl]

Well I'm here. I wanted to tell you what a sucker I'm for some good fluff Tommy Shelby fluff..

I had this idea at the back of my mind where the Tommy married the reader as a formality because Polly had been constantly nagging him to get Charles a mother.(Like after Grace dies). Now he makes it clear that he cannot give her "love" and she should not expect it but she should be a dutiful wife (I know, patriarchy) and take care of Charlie. Reader decides to give the marriage a try.. and thinks it's not always love that builds marriage. As long as Tommy keeps her safe, it's fine.. It's only when the reader gets pregnant with Tommy's kid, the way her body starts changing, Tommy's heart starts changing as well and he starts falling in love with her as her pregnancy progresses..

I'm sorry if this is too much. 🙊🥺

A/N: I’m so in love with this one, I really, really hope you like it!🥺 thank you for requesting this amazing piece✨ honestly this one gave me so much life that I could wrote a whole series out of it!

Another Day

Thomas Shelby x Fem!Reader

Word count: 1,834

When Grace died, Thomas knew that a part of himself went with her. Part of his heart and his capacity of loving followed the woman who owned that same heart into the abyss of death. And he was fine with it, the only reasonable thing to do was to let his heart rest next to his beloved wife, that was alright with him.

Everyday that went by Thomas felt as his life were slowly drowning into a whirlwind of inconsolable sorrow. Nevertheless, he was trying his best for Charlie and he was darned proud of how such a sweet boy he happened to become. So mannered and so caring that sometimes he almost failed to believe he was his son, this was his only spiral of joy. Every time Ada would come around with Karl, Charlie wouldn’t help, but ask about his mommy and why him and daddy were always alone. And he was right, Thomas and Charlie were always going to be alone in a way, that thought was so dreadful and achingly painful that one morning he did what he had to do. Polly spent the last few weeks begging him to meet the daughter of this friends of hers, single and behaved, What more could you ask for? Polly would always end up saying. A question he would have promptly answer with Grace.

The first time he laid eyes on you, he couldn’t help but think how pretty you were. He was a man with pride, but he also had eyes and he would never say something that he doesn’t mean so he said it “You are a very beautiful woman” in a tone so cold and unemotional that made you laugh, clearly he was forced into this meeting as well. Marriage was the last thing in your list: Travel and study the art of painting that was your dream and see it being crushed by the economical need of your family almost crushed you a well. Being the respectful and obedient wife of Thomas Shelby was never part of your plan, but you weren’t selfish enough to say no and let your family sink in debt. And while Polly was taking your mom’s arm and pulling her aways from you two for some intimacy, you look at time a stare that he didn’t give back and said “Next time be more convincing.”

The wedding came soon enough, everyone on your side of the family was happy, excited and hopeful for the future that this union would bring. The Shelby’s on the other side, they weren’t allowed to celebrate as this wasn’t a marriage of love, but need. A small wedding, no reception. You never really thought about marriage, but somehow it made you sad how so careless this man was. How cruel he was to care so little about something that for you could have a meaning.

On the night of your wedding Thomas didn’t talking much, if anything at all. Some candles were lit on the side of the bed, they smelled nice you remember, but nothing could ease up the tension in that room. You in your night gown standing in front of him as he close the door behind him while he enters the room. His eyes locked in yours but it’s hard to tell whether he wants this or it’s just a duty. A step after another he finally was in front of you, so close that he could easily hear your heart racing on your chest. His hand slowly reached your cheek and he smiled a small imperceptible smile “Love is a tricky thing. From this night on I will respect you, protect you, but love...” he eyes were now somewhere else, they were still looking at you, but you could tell they were elsewhere. That was enough for you, or so you thought.

Time passed and the only thing that made those miserable day bearable was Charlie. You saw in him a lot of Thomas, but there was also a side of him that you didn’t quite get, probably from his mom. Grace a woman that was still an important presence in the house, in their life. Charlie would sometimes stare at the paint of him, Thomas and Grace and would point and her, asking where she is. You would then proceed to sit next to his and point at his chest close to where his heart his “She is here. She’s in here everyday, even if you don’t see her” you would say smiling at him. She was beautiful, so beautiful and so much loved that you would pity yourself, a resentment that caused you to be sickened by yourself, at some point in time you realised that you started to compete with the death and that feeling brought so much shame that you decided it was time to get back at your art. So you did, painting and looking after Charlie. When the Sun would disappear in order for the Moon to gloriously take its place, Thomas would come home, sometimes even later than that. He would kiss Charlie on the forehead, then he would smile at you. After all expectations, Thomas had no problem in engaging in a conversation with you, however he never talked to you as his wife, more like a newfound acquaintance and that again was alright with you.

Then one day you found out you were pregnant. You had all the signs, morning sickness, late period, body changing, but a part of you didn’t want it to be true. You were so afraid of bring to Earth a creature that was not made out of love that you took quite enough time to tell Thomas, the enough time it took you to start showing and made it impossible for you to hide it longer. Your heart was racing as fast as the horses that Thomas so much loved, when one night he grabbed you by your hand and pulled you closer to him, not a moment of love, but a need. And while a hand slowly caressed your arms, the other was finding his way under your night gown but stopped as soon as he felt your stomach. Surprised as it was he went from looking at your body to staring at your face, while you were nervously biting your lips “I’m pregnant” you said in a whisper. His hand fell down as soon as those words left your mouth and he quickly stepped back. He didn’t want another child, not like this, but he was not going to say it. In fact he didn’t say anything and went to bed.

Weeks after that Thomas didn’t touch you, or talked to you. He even barely looked at you. He felt as if he was betraying Grace, as this baby could bring an end to the connection he had with her. He wasn’t ready for any of that, but neither were you and so the hostility between you two grew. Charlie however was super excited to have a little brother or sister. Seeing his son so excited about the news made him think that maybe that was such a bad news, after all that’s what he wanted for the both of them, not being alone.

And the baby was growing, strong as ever. Polly and Ada started to come visit more and you liked that, that made you feel less alone.

“Don’t worry he will come along someday” Polly would always say to you and you would always smile repeating yourself that you didn’t need his love, that this was a marriage without love, but now with this baby inside you, you couldn’t help but thinking if he was ever going to love your baby.

Thomas was now at home more often “I do not have so many employees for nothing now eh?” He would say every time you would wake up in the morning and see him already on his feet preparing Charlie for the day. The truth was that Thomas knew you had trouble sleeping since the baby, he woke up sometimes during the night to see you walking around the room while moaning in pain. He knew how stressful it could be to not having enough sleep, carrying a baby and providing for another one, so he decided to stick around for a while. Seeing your daily routine, how you would play with Charlie, sit in front of the painting of hi late mom, telling him those kind word and seeing you meticulously give time to your own passion, that did something to him. Perhaps it was just time what he needed, perhaps love was something that he could feel again, because now every time he looked at you, he felt alive again.

“What now? Are you going to do the laundry as well?” You jokingly said while you were having breakfast.

He looked and you and chuckled “No, I pay other people to do that. But you are more than welcome to do it yourself, it’s money that I can save” and as he saw you rolling your eyes in response he smiled “I got you something” he said talking a little bag under the table and placing it in front of you.

You almost gasped in surprise, Thomas Shelby caring to waste a bit of his time to buy you something? Not even your birthday made him turn around like that. You were almost scolding yourself out loud for how much you were smiling at that gesture. You carefully opening the bag to reveal a pair of white baby shoes, the most precious thing he could ever get you. Thomas looked at you with the same big smile that was on your lips and he hold your hand, he didn’t say much after, but your hand on his meant something for the both of you.

You gave birth to the most beautiful and precious baby girl. Polly and Ada were at tears when they first saw her and you could tell to have seen even Arthur shredding some tears and being scolded by John. You even shredded some tears. The love that you thought you couldn’t get and that you were never going to experience, it was all there in this tiny little girl. Charlie was absolutely in love with her, so much that it was hard to convince him that he was to big to sleep in the crib with her. You were looking at your baby girl, sleeping peacefully and there it was, the most beautiful piece of art you ever made. While this thought slid through your mind, Thomas wrapped his arms around your waste in a hug from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder and he smiled looking at his daughter “So darned beautiful” he whispered while looking at her, he was completely astonished and happy, so darned happy. “You both are” he then said holding you a bit tighter than before and this time, you believed him.

[readerinsertfanfiction]

Love Deduction

Fandom: Ikemen Vampire

Character: Arthur Conan Doyle

Prompt: Arthur is smart, but also a giant dumbass, case #93478123238. Written for the birthday of a certain @tsubaki3192​. WERE YOU EXPECTING A HIDEYOSHI FROM ME? HAH. Happy birthday, I’m not that predictable. 

Warnings: Mentions of coffee, a lot of coffee. Some of his general insecurity and some mansion bullying. 

Length: +1K

If Arthur were to be a superhero his superpower would be: deduction; the distillation of a conclusion, an answer, based on the facts presented and observations made. It was quite a handy little power, he would assume. The glance of an eye of interest, the press of a pair of lips seduced. If one opened their eyes and read a lot there was little the world had to hide, he found. All answers were presented one way or another if one just sees it. And so Arthur Conan Doyle found himself to be quite the hero at figuring out the lusts and wiles of a person, picking up those attacked by the enemy named boredom.

This was no story of a superhero, however. Arthur was far from a superhero, or even anything as interesting as a villain. No, Arthur found himself to be much more boring than that; a mere presence in the world with too many dreams and ideals and a fragile heart on top. He just happened to possess a good amount of logic and some wit, but nothing to make his deductions appear as a superpower, nor with the ability to make out what you were thinking. In fact, if Arthur Conan Doyle had to call himself anything, he would name himself a side-character. Which was perhaps why he related to Watson so well rather than Sherlock.

“Now, I predict that there will be cake tomorrow,” he had casually announced, a not-so subtle hint to what tomorrow was going to be. The house had been in a bustle, with everyone buzzing around to ensure that the preparations for such a special day were all set into place. It was not everyday that a mortal they had grown so attached to was to celebrate growing older. With the amount of personalities housed within the mansion it was also quite hard for any of them to keep their secrets their own and so Arthur found little reason in discretion.

“Cake, what cake?” Sebastian had repeated after him, playing the fool when all in the room knew that to be fruitless. The author left the butler to be, not missing the signs of fatigue lining the ever-busy man’s face, or that of anyone else, and he knew that his showed as well.

“Apple or caramel, perhaps both, Toshiko?” Dazai was ever so quick to distract you, making sure that he was within hearing distance of a certain scientist who scoffed and mocked the man scornfully for the apple caramel joke.

It did indeed distract you, but with the attention turned towards the wrong individuals rather than his who was looking for yours so intently.

“Just so you know, there won’t be a dog. Having one of you is more than enough,” Theo had followed up with a smirk, this time earning a huff and puff from your side as you tried to argue that you were not a ‘hondje’ as the Dutchman liked to call you. A dreadful nickname, Arthur could tell, knowing full well that it was in bad taste in several ways.

But still your eyes never turned to him, not even addressing him in the room. The author felt quite ignored by now, as he wondered if you were avoiding him or just not interested in him in the way you interested him.

So Arthur started to deduce, sipping his umpteenth cup of coffee that day as he tried to make eye contact with you, counting the times that you broke it off, or tried to break it off, or maintained it.

Unfortunately, all he counted were missed opportunities, for your eyes were occupied by anything but him.

“Cara, I found the pigments you were looking for,” Leonardo had said, sweeping in when you had a bit of a breather between your job and the other men vying for your attention.

“Do you prefer the white accent, or to mute it a bit more?” Comte questioned, busy in his own preparation for your birthday.

“Are you still working on that paper? I can help,” Isaac offered when he finally managed to declaw himself from the ever so cumbersome Dazai, followed by a quiet Jean and Mozart that tried to inquire to you about some other details about the various hobbies you maintained and the day to come.

“Do you want to come out with me?” Vincent asked you so sweetly at some point when you were finally done with work. And with the summer season fully blazing the sun was up longer as well, allowing for a beautiful sunset dyed in romantic colours that the artist loved to catch with you by his side.

All Arthur could conclude from that was the fact that he deduced plenty of missed chances whilst he was drinking away his cups of coffee and racking his brain for a pretty story to pen down for you. A time he spent observing without growing any the wiser about what he meant to you.

“Arthur?” You were suddenly in his face, eyes blinking and hand waving, earning a start from the author who realised that he had let himself be caught off guard. It was followed with a frown and your hands pulling the cup of coffee out of his hands before Arthur managed to press a ‘love’ out of his throat, his breath still caught and hitched while he watched you tug at him.

“Off to bed with you,” you had told him in slight annoyance and Arthur wondered if he had done something wrong, still trying to observe you, his deductions still whirring as he felt his mind fog up, the caffeine doing its job as his heart started to race when he was set in bed.

“I bet you haven’t slept a wink since you started preparing,” came your accusation and the author wondered how you had managed to figure out that he was working through the nights to work out one particular plothole in his story.

To this the man had an answer, his smile falling easy on his lips as he pulled you closer. “Are you offering yourself between my sheets?” he teases, earning a flush in your eyes as you peel yourself away from the man, “how bold of you,” he sings, but he allows you to move away nonetheless as another huff escapes you, adorably annoyed as much as you were flustered.

“Don’t mind this old chap, I’m fine once I figure out how I figure out the little confession scene.”

And there he shot away his own chance, handing out a golden opportunity as he let you go once more. For why would you want to spend more time with him if there were so many others whose love you could indulge upon? Arthur had long since made amends with the fact that you wouldn’t ever be his alone, not needing his deductions to know that he stood no chance.

“But I do,” you counter him, suddenly stubborn, or rather, you always had been. Stubborn in the most inopportune times as Arthur feels hope flare up while he watches you with his eyes, reading you, or trying to read you. It was a bad habit of his, he knew, but one he couldn’t stop as he continued to observe the way you moved, sitting down at his bedside as you pressed a hand onto his.

“I care, because I like you,” you bluntly state, earning a look of surprise from the man. Arthur wondered if you knew what your words meant, how they could be read, but you pressed on undaunted.

“Is it wrong of me to care?”

For once he had no answer for you, blue eyes wide as a flush of pink spread across his face. He knew what he looked like and Arthur cursed himself and his heart for actually blushing. Observation could be easily misunderstood, but logic told him that you were clueless as ever, whilst his heart was what betrayed him the most.

“My dear,” he forces a smile on his face instead as he muffles away his many thoughts and forces himself to deduce further, “how do you so easily solve all of my problems?”

And with that Arthur would have flown to the table, to write out the exact scene to solve his little problem in the logistics of a story, dismissing your flustered and surprised expression as something of overwhelm from his own passion and excitement if it wasn’t for that hand holding onto his rather firmly followed by the most surprising combination of words:

“You are an idiot.”

If Arthur was a superhero his highest stat would be intelligence, maxing out the bar of logic, to which the special ability of deduction came free. However, with that great strength there was a reasonable weakness. Arthur alway supposed that it was because he was the biggest ‘loser’, never meant to be a main character of sorts. But what he never deduced was that he might actually play the role of the clueless love interest instead, bad as he was in recognising or acknowledging your confession to him.