#the reason arthurs friends are never seen with him again is cause they were like

[thatgaywizardoverthere]

Arthur keeping tabs on Merlin day 1 so they can “accidentally” run into each other at the market

[wonderjanga]

Billy and Bars

Now, as you probably know, most of the time Billy is ages 8 to maybe 15 (that’s what I’ve seen anyways) and of course, his Captain Marvel form looks like an adult. So, it wouldn’t be strange for an adult to ask another adult to go to a bar with them. Which is why Billy is caught in a dilemma. On one hand, he could just say no, but after a long mission where they’d all spent like two days on an alien planet under constant heavy fire from a cute and cuddly, yet surprisingly bloodthirsty race? It’d be weird not to accept. They might suspect him for being a kid! And boy, Billy does not want that. But on the other hand, he’s not of legal drinking age.

He ends up going with them anyways. Now, all the heroes are sat at a dingy bar in Central City, out of costume, of course. Though, some of them cough Bruce cough Diana cough Arthur cough and you can’t forget Billy, still in Marvel form. (He took a page out of Supe’s book and wore glasses. He’s also for some reason wearing Hawaiian print. (He didn’t have actual adult clothes and needed to borrow from a bargain bin))

Billy thankfully found a loophole for this whole mess. That’s right, this guys gonna be sipping virgin margaritas for the rest of the night. And, he try as many flavors as he wants because you wanna know the best part? Bruce is paying for everything! If Billy could jump in joy, he would. It didn’t matter that Hal was a little obnoxious when drunk off his mind. He’s dealt with worse and it’s not like it’s all that bad. He’s kinda funnier than usual this way. He gets the spend the rest of the day with people he considers friends, that’s all that really matters.

GL: “Dude, why do you keep ordering virgins?”

Crap. What does Billy say to that? Right off the bat, Billy ignores Solomon’s first, and quite frankly, wild lie to tell.

Marvel: “Hmm? Oh uh… I… like the way they taste…?”

He’s a bad liar.

Aquaman: *drinking beer* “Try again, bud.”

Okay… It looks like he might have to listen to Solomon after all. Gosh dang it.

Marvel: “Uhm… I kinda used to maybe sort of might’ve had an addiction and had to go to AA a long time ago.” *Sips drink*

He was always better at lying when the lie was already prepared.

*Whole table goes silent*

Marvel: “Uh… I’ve been sober for a while. Like…” ‘Twelve years, Billy,’ Solomon supplied in his head. “…Twelve years.”

*Table is still silent.*

Flash: *Interrupts silence by slamming hands on table* “Dude! You cannot keep dropping Marvel Lore Bombs™️ on us like this!” (Btw this is the same universe as the Marvel Compilations post. I didn’t mean to write it like it was the same universe but I might as well connect them cause why not)

Marvel: “Whaddya mean?”

Superman: “Well, Marvel…” *scratches back of head* “You kinda have this tendency to… Gosh, how do I put this?”

Martian Manhunter: “You drop obscure information about yourself at random times.”

Wonder Woman: “Then you just go about your day like you didn’t say it in the first place. For example Cap, you can’t just tell me that at some point you were an Amazonian, you were there for my birth, and then just walk off.”

GL: “Marvel, how old are you?”

Marvel: “Uuuuuuhhhhhhh….”

Batman: “You date back to having existed before Mesopotamia. I want to know the answer to that question Marvel.” *Bat-glares Billy while sipping from his drink.*

Bruce was definitely going to add the AA thing to his quite small folder on Marvel.

The night continues on with the other members of the JL grilling Billy for more information about himself, which Solomon helps with by either supplying him with lies, or with things previous champions did. By the time the night was over, Billy never wanted to go to a bar again. He unshazamed in an alley and went home to his little place. He bee-lined to his sleeping bag and just when he was about to fall asleep, something popped into his mind:

‘Why didn’t I just say I didn’t like the way it tastes?’ That thought kept him up for a couple more hours.

[futurepastme]

At King Emry's Court: Full Scene

(The badass King Merlin AU)

Excerpt: Arthur frowned a little, ready to complain, before remembering himself. "You speak of justice…" "I never said anything about justice." Arthur frowned at the interruption again. "I've given your father three options. I offered him peace, I offered him ignorance and I offered him war; the only thing I did after that was make him aware that actions have consequences. This is what this is about; not revenge, not justice, but simple cause and effect."

In the middle of nowhere, northwest from Albion, was the island known by magic users as Elysium. Elysium seemed to have appeared out of nowhere, nobody had ever heard about it until about twenty years after Uther Pendragon started his war against magic.

Slowly, rumors of this island began to grow and eventually what was only a myth became real. Some kingdoms of Albion turned their eyes to the island; interested in their growing economy, the chance to trade with them and the chance to forge alliances. Soon enough the island that was known to be the magic users paradise — their hiding place if you will — became a bustling and well succeeded kingdom.

The King of Elysium was known mostly by name, a hooded figure by the name of Emrys. Few were the people that knew his face, most of them were part of the select group he chose to manage the island while he was away.

Emrys was rarely seen, his way of ruling the kingdom was different than everything one might have seen before for Emrys rarely stayed at the island, leaving it on the hands of his chosen few.

The chosen few were known as the seven, most of their identities were also unknown as they all chose to wear a hooded cape at all times, so they were mostly known as their assigned number.

As the Kingdom grew in strength and wealth, Uther Pendragon began losing allies and what was once seen as a strong man with a just fight in the name of good, was slowly turning into a madman thirsty for revenge and bloodshed.

Trying to save face, King Uther scheduled a visit to the island. He was indeed curious about the kingdom and about Emrys himself, but with his visit he hoped to learn their weaknesses and find enough information to create doubt amongst the other kingdoms of Albion and turn them against magic once more.

King Emrys kindly invited Camelot's party to spend the harvest celebrations with them, a week-long festival where both magic-folk and humans thanked the goddess and the land for the given provisions for the winter. Along with King Uther, Prince Arthur and a handful of servants and knights went on their way to meet the mysterious island.

Upon arrival, Camelot's party were welcomed by the seven, the man and woman that managed the island in Emrys absence. Uther didn't like it, he wanted nothing more than meet the man that dared to go against him, but Emrys was nowhere to be seen.

After two days of not finding the sorcerer, Uther demanded a meeting with Emrys' court and was surprised when he found out that even if his wish for a meeting was granted, Emrys himself still wouldn't see him.

Merlin was Prince Arthur's manservant — he had been for years as a reward for saving Arthur's life — and as the prince's servant he was granted the privilege of joining them on their visit to the island. But Merlin was more than a servant — in Prince Arthur's eyes he was closer to a friend — so Merlin also had the honour to be allowed in council meetings.

That's why Merlin now sat at the back of the room watching as King Uther made angry demands at Elysium's court, screaming at the councilwoman that had been introduced as the main representative and the second of the seven. He watched as the woman was interrupted again and again, as she tried to reason with the mad king that demanded to see Emrys and made threats of war.

He had had enough, there was nothing the woman could do against Uther, especially in the state he was in. Merlin took a step forward, and then another, slowly letting his secret seep out of him.

Upon noticing his movement, some of Elysium's councilmen and women started to move as well, until one of them raised their voice to say "All rise for the Lord Emrys," and Merlin fully let his magic out, allowing it to change his garments into ones more befitting of a king. He walked to his seat at the center of the room and, upon reaching it, turned around taking in the many emotions passing through the faces of Camelot's citizens that were in the room.

Uther's face was red as he restarted his complaints, this time filled with accusations, insults, and even more threats.

"You are nothing but a lowly servant!"

Merlin had enough, he had been done with Uther a long time ago and now he was filled with a rage he hasn't felt in a long time.

"I'm aware of what I am, Uther Pendragon." he started, his voice growing louder in order to compete with Uther's own screaming. "I am a peasant. I was born to grow crops," Merlin continued his speech standing up slowly.

"I was born to scrub floors, polish boots and clean chamber-pots. I was never suppose to be King, I wasn't suppose to have people depending on me, on my choices; I wasn't supposed to have to lead anyone or give anyone hope."

Merlin walked towards Uther, staring him dead in the eyes with such intensity that brought a golden gleam to his still blue irises.

"I never once asked for riches, for power; and I never asked to be King."

He stopped right in front of Uther, still staring at him, and brought his voice down. "You are the one who gave me this crown."

Uther had his face completely red, a vein in his forehead threatening to pop.

"You can scream all you want," Merlin continued, turning around and heading back to his seat. "You can hate me and my people, my kind; you can try and make demands and threats, but I assure you, you will not have it your way."

"Then you have chosen war." Uther said when Merlin paused his speech long enough to sit down.

Merlin looked at the small man in front of him with a mixture of disbelief and amusement.

"War?" He snorted, "you can't go to war with me, Uther. How would that even work?"

Merlin smiled and frowned his eyebrows. "We are in an island, Camelot has no ships of its own. You are here because you used my ships." He leaned back.

"Besides, who says I want war with Camelot? I actually quite like the place, you know? I have a bunch of friends there."

"Camelot is no friend of magic users, we will fight to rid the world of your little nest of pests."

Merlin dropped his smile, his eyes grew sharp once again as he focused on Uther, and he let out a sigh. "By the goddess you are tiresome."

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

"Here's the deal, I will give you three options to choose from. You can choose whatever one you like most, I'll be happy with any of them."

Uther seemed ready to speak again but never got the chance.

"Option number one: We sign a peace treaty similar to the ones I have with other kingdoms where we'll begin to plan trade routs and the such to start collaborating with each other, but you will have to stop your persecution and the bloodshed against my people," Merlin scrunched up his nose. "I'll not even demand that you lift the ban completely, merely that the punishment fits the crime committed and that you stop actively hunting us down."

Uther's face was getting closer to purple and he opened up his mouth. "Option number two," Merlin said louder before Uther restarted his hate speech.

"We sign an armistice and you go back to pretend this place doesn't exist and we will do the same with Camelot."

Merlin leaned back again, "which brings us to option number three: war"

Uther looked taken aback for a second that war was actually in one of his 'options', he looked eager to respond but Merlin raised his hand interrupting him again.

"Let me explain something about option number three before you choose. First of all, even if you manage to find ships to bring your knights across the sea, I assure you they will not make it to the port. The only ships that can anchor at my shores are the ones I allow to."

Merlin let the information sink in before continuing.

"Secondly, even if you manage to bring your man to my island you'll still have the three levels of protection shields that won't allow you to pass. Not mentioning the amount of magic users that would be eager to get their own personal revenge against anyone wearing Camelot's colours."

Merlin shook his head in disapproval.

"Finally, and this is the main one so pay attention; if you do choose to go to war against me, if you are so eager to erase magic from earth that you decide to go out of your way to persecute my kind in this sacred place; I promise you that no knight, no soldier, no innocent human from Camelot or otherwise, will be harmed in your foolish war. The only person that will face consequences if you seek war against my kingdom will be yourself, Uther Pendragon, and I'll make sure of it."

Merlin leaned forward again and rested his chin on his hands. "It's about time you start taking responsibility for your own mistakes, and assume the consequences of them like the man and king you were supposed to be."

The room went silent. Merlin's threat hang heavily in the air taking away the voices of everyone in the room, even from his own council who did not expect that decision. They all knew Merlin loved Camelot, and that he had a soft spot for it's prince.

"You dare to threaten me."

Merlin's eyebrows went up and a startled laugh escaped in a breath and soon turned into a giggle fit that was joined by the rest of Elysium's council.

"You are joking, right?"

"I demand a fair combat between our kingdoms, as a war is supposed to be."

"You are joking, right?" Merlin repeated. "You are not sitting in front of me, demanding war with people that you have murdered for decades and suddenly decide that you are pro-fairness just because things aren't going your way. Because if you are… well that's amusing, really. And befitting"

Merlin cleaned dry tears from his eyes.

"You threaten to murder me…"

"Murder? No, I don't recall saying that. I said that if you went with the warpath there would be consequences and you would be the only one to pay for them. In fact," he looked at the seven man and women he trusted most, the ones that ran his kingdom for him. "I'll tell you what, you have until the end of the week to make a decision, meanwhile councilwomen two and six will gather this week to decide what your fate will be if you choose the warpath."

"And how is that fair?" Arthur spoke and for the first time since Merlin left his place at the back and took his seat as Emrys, Merlin dared to look at him.

While Merlin knew Arthur better than the man knew himself, right now Arthur was using his court face, and even if usually he could read right past that as well, all Merlin could see right now was his steadfast gaze looking right back at him.

"Councilwoman two is a non-magic user, she helps us see the things by the point of view of those who have no magic at all but still have to live with it; councilwoman number six is a magic-user who lived in Camelot for a while, she was on her way to take matters in her own hands when I convinced her otherwise and she came to my island instead."

Merlin rested his chin on his hands again.

"I usually don't mind taking part on the decision-making — of course not, how could I? — but in this case I fear my judgment might be a little…" He let his gaze wander away and land back on the prince. "Compromised."

"I see the reasoning for your councilwomen choice, but how can I be certain that what they'll chose will be fair?"

Merlin let a smirk escape, both from the irony of the word fair related to Uther and for Arthur himself. Then he shook his head.

"You are forgetting that he doesn't have to choose that path."

"I think we both know the likeliness of that."

"What would you have me do, then?"

Merlin watched as a glimpse of surprise escaped through Arthur's mask, followed by a hint of doubt before both of them were suppressed again.

"Let me…"

"No." Merlin interrupted him before he could even start, there was no way he would let Arthur decide his own father's fate if it ever came down to it.

Arthur frowned a little, ready to complain, before remembering himself. "You speak of justice…"

"I never said anything about justice." Arthur frowned at the interruption again.

"I've given your father three options. I offered him peace, I offered him ignorance and I offered him war; the only thing I did after that was make him aware that actions have consequences. This is what this is about; not revenge, not justice, but simple cause and effect."

Arthur stared at Merlin with tight lips, he didn't like what Merlin had said but he also didn't have a good enough argument to go against his reasoning.

Merlin kept his gaze focused on Arthur's face trying to catch another glimpse of his emotions. He could feel his frustration and annoyance but most of all, he knew Arthur feared for his father.

"However" He continued, "I can see your point of view and after careful consideration I have come to realized that perhaps you might have a point."

Arthur looked shocked, not just a glimpse that was escaping through his mask, no, Arthur was completely shocked and it was clear for everyone to see.

"Well of course I have a point"

"Sure"

Arthur scrunched his nose in annoyance and Merlin smiled. Maybe things would be alright in the end.

"Like I was saying, you made me realize that it would be interesting to have the point-of-view of someone that has been directly under King Uther's rule and isn't connected to magic in any way in the decision making process, so I'll allow you, Prince Arthur, to chose someone from your party to speak on your kingdom's behalf."

Uther talked back at that. "If anyone should be choosing my representative, it should be me!"

Merlin had honestly forgotten Uther was still there, in fact he was so focused on Arthur that he forgot that everybody else who wasn't him were still there. He was so glad he didn't see any trace of hate in his prince's eyes that the rest of the world didn't seem to be attention worthy.

Granted, Arthur still had his mask on, but the glimpses Merlin managed to see earlier were all hatred-free, so Merlin was hopeful and if everything turned out not horrible, Merlin was considering to create a new holiday to celebrate this day.

"Honestly, Uther, the fact that you still think you have any say in my court baffles me. You entered here spitting rage and making demands like some kind of entitled child, why you would think I would let you make any decision about anything after that makes me severely concerned for your kingdom, and that's coming from someone who's been living there."

Uther spluttered.

"Arthur is choosing because the argument was his, because he seems to have his bearings and, honestly? Because he's more likable than you."

Uther's mouth opened slightly and Merlin noticed a small smile creeping up Arthur's mouth.

"Now, Prince Arthur, I'm going to need a name but if you allow me an advice, I'd tell you to choose for the kingdom, not for the man."

Arthur looked back at him in the way he always did when he thought Merlin had said something uncharacteristically wise, except this time it came with a weight Merlin couldn't place.

Merlin didn't know but Arthur was looking at him with admiration, Merlin always confused him in the sense that he seemed so much more than just a servant, like Merlin had the heart of a noble and the wisdom of a king. Now that he knew the truth about him, everything seemed to fall into place.

Merlin always had that aura around him — especially when giving Arthur advice — of someone that was destined for greatness. Learning that he was Emrys made so much sense that while looking at him right now, sitting in a throne leading and protecting his kind with certainty, Arthur didn't find it in himself room to be angry about it. Not when that scene felt so right that he wondered why he never realized how magnificent Merlin would look with a crown.

Arthur looked around the room for a while, seemingly measuring the men that had come with them.

"I can have someone brought from Camelot before lunchtime if you don't have what you need here," Merlin offered and Arthur looked surprised at him.

Merlin knew who he would've chosen. It seemed obvious to him but maybe Arthur had a different strategy.

"I choose Sir Leon," he turned to the man himself "If you feel like you're up to the task."

"It would be my honour, Sire." He bowed in agreement.

"Wonderful!" Merlin clapped his hands once which seemed to startle a few people. He smiled at Arthur's good choice before continuing. "Sir Leon will be joining the second and the sixth throughout this week to reach a mutual decision about what would be an appropriate outcome." He waved at each of them as he spoke.

"Meanwhile," he continued. "King Uther has a week to reach a decision of his own about what is to be done with both our kingdoms. While he does so I want to remind the court that the Camelot party are still our guests and must continue to be treated as such."

He looked back at Uther, "you are all, of course, still invited to partake in our harvest celebrations — there's no need for bad blood between us while a decision hasn't been made — and you are all free to explore the kingdom as you will, I just ask you all not to wander through our forests by yourselves, they have a tendency to be purposefully confusing."

He turned his gaze to his court.

"In the interest of full transparency, not more courtly meetings will be held until we gather again in a week to hear Camelot's position, all non-urgent matters shall be postpone to the week after, and the urgent ones can be brought directly to me."

"You will regret this." Uther interrupted, his voice filled with poison and disdain. "You think you can spy on me and my kingdom without consequences, I'll make you pay for your lies and your sins."

The room felt heavy again, Merlin was just tired.

"Can't wait to hear all about it next week. Court dismissed."

He stood up and his court stood with him, differently from what is done in Camelot, the Elysium court always waited for him to leave the room first before leaving their places. He wasn't sure when this began being their way but he had a suspicion it started because Merlin hated attending court and always were the first at the door when it was over.

Camelot's household watched in silence as the whole room of Elysium's court stood in place waiting for their king to leave through the door before moving to leave themselves.

It wasn't long after Merlin left that he began hearing the familiar footsteps following after him. They were strong and decisive and were marching straight towards him with purpose, soon enough he felt a strong hand around his arm and long nails digging at his sleeve. "I want him dead"

"And what else is new?"

He felt the nails digging deeper and he was forced to stop. He turned around and found himself face to face with green eyes filled with anger and annoyance.

"This isn't a joke, Merlin. Uther should die, this is the only way."

"You heard my decision, Morgana." Merlin stared back at her with a steady gaze, they had had that discussion many times before and while Morgana always complied with his decision of not going for Uther's throat, it didn't mean she was happy about it. "It's not me you have to convince of that."

"You really think Leon and Hunith will let me sentence him to death? Have you met them? They don't understand, Merlin, not like we do."

Merlin's gaze softened as he stared at her. "Do you know why I chose you to be part of the seven?"

"Because I'm powerful and have understanding of courtly matters."

"That helps, of course, but that was not the reason." Morgana's stance softened in surprise.

"Was it out of guilt?"

"What?"

"Some kind of gift to apologize for the poison?"

Merlin was taken aback with surprise, it had been a while since he thought about that day. "I thought we had put that behind us."

"We did." She sounded relieved.

"Morgana, I chose you because I trust you to fight for our kind in a way I'm not able to. You are angry, and while you might not be out for revenge anymore, it doesn't mean you would casually dismiss it like I would. But most of all, I chose you because after everything you've been through in Camelot, after Uther and after me, you still managed to maintain enough heart to not give in. I admire you, Morgana. You have a strength in you that can inspire people to follow you. I'm lucky to have you by my side and I trust you to make the right decision."

Morgana looked at him in shock, she seemed so vulnerable like this, with big doe eyes that seemed to be staring at the sun for the first time. It was gone quickly enough, she looked down and recomposed herself. "It's because of you, you know?"

"Me? I was under the impression that I made things worse."

"You did, at first, but you reached out to me later and didn't give up. I don't know what would have become of me if you hadn't. The path Morgause was taking us was not one I'd dare to follow today, it came from a place of despair and anger and I would have walked down that road with her til the end if it weren't for your persistence. We might have ended up in different sides of this war."

"I see. I'm glad it didn't came to it then."

"So am I." They smiled at each other before Merlin turned again and offered her his arm. "So, tell me, how's Morgause doing? Did she find new apprentices?"

She took his arm and laughed, "oh, you wouldn't believe it, those poor girls."

They continued their journey down the hallways of Elysium Castle, chatting and gossiping like old friends. Merlin knew there was still much to be done, he still had to find Arthur and explain himself to his prince, and he knew Uther wouldn't spend this week in silence. Just imagining the headache he could bring for his people left him slightly out of breath.

But that was a problem for another time, right now he just wanted to enjoy the pleasant company of one of his dearests friends in the world without any drama to stain it. "Anyway, let's talk about the way Arthur was looking at you, don't think I didn't notice."

Or not

"Did you hear that? I think I heard Lord Erick calling me." He let go of her and started sprinting away while laughing.

"Merlin! Come back here! You will not get away from this conversation! Merlin!" her voice echoed through the hallway as Merlin ran away with the wind.

☽♚☾

[thefiery-phoenix]

YANDERE THOMAS SHELBY HEADCANONS

There is a REASON he is known as the Devil of Small Heath around Birmingham. Pretty much all the men who come for a drink at the Garrison have the common sense not to mess with Thomas Shelby, just by hearing his mere name sends shivers up people's spines and for a reason too because of his dark deeds against people who stand against him. If there's one thing he values the most, it's family. He's willing to kill anyone who dares to prove to be a danger to his family

You were new to the city of Birmingham after completing your education overseas at a reputed university and you had a dream and passion for becoming a writer, to make a name for yourself in the literary world. You were supposed to meet your childhood friend Russell whom you've known ever since the two of you were in your school days as you opened the door to the Garrison and took a shaky breath as you entered the pub and sat down on a stool. You fidgeted with the sleeves of your dress nervously as you'd never had the habit of consuming alcohol much less even stepping foot inside a pub. The bartender Harry Fenton's eyes landed on you, as he had a polite smile on his face. "Where are you from miss, haven't seen you around here'' he said in a friendly tone as you told him about you visiting Birmingham for the first time and how you were supposed to meet your friend Russell. The bartender offered you a drink on the house but you politely declined as his lips curved into an amused smile at your refusal, finding it amusing that even though you were in a bar, you'd refused a drink of alcohol. Little did you know, there were 3 pairs of eyes watching you without your knowledge from a nearby booth

"Oh, she's new. Haven't seen her around'' said Ada to her brothers as she sipped her drink and looked at you with an interested expression on her face. "I know...she looks like a goody two shoes, bein' in a pub an all and not drinkin'' said Arthur as he smirked to himself as he gulped down his beer. "I know...real beauty ain't she?" said John as he grinned and took a swig of his drink as the three of them started discussing about you. Just then, they went quiet when Thomas entered wearing his glasses, his smart black suit along with Polly by his side as the two of them sat down at the booth with the rest of them. "Alfie's men are causing trouble again...need to get rid of that bloody dolt for good'' grumbled Tommy as he fished in his pocket for a cigar and lit it as he took a puff of smoke and sighed. His eyes fell on John who was still staring at you as his gaze landed on you as well and he surveyed you with his calculating piercing gaze. "Whos' she?" he asked the others with a stoic expression on his face as they told him about you and how you were waiting for someone

He couldn't help but feel slightly amused when he heard you wanted to become a writer at Birmingham of all places which was definitely NOT the place for you in his opinion. Yet his eyes never left you, as he kept observing you from a distance. "Oh, looks like you fancy her now don't you?" asked Ada in a teasing voice. "Shut up Ada'' he retorted as he continued to look at you. However a few seconds later he spotted some lousy drunk sleazebag trying to make you uncomfortable as he kept getting too close to you and you had an uncomfortable expression on your face. You tried to keep politely declining his offer to join him for the night but the man finally had enough as he grabbed your wrist. "I'll show you what happens to wenches like you who think they're too good for the world...little brat'' he drawled as his eyes traveled down your body hungrily. Within a matter of a few seconds, the man let out a sharp scream of pain as the whole pub fell silent and the chatter around you ceased at once

"She said no...'' said Thomas in a cold voice as he glared at the man who tried to have his way with you and twisted his hand till the man fell on his knees, writhing and groaning in pain. "Pathetic...next time you do something like that, I'll be sure to actually cut your bloody hand off and feed it to the dogs'' said Thomas as he looked down at the man in contempt as the man whimpered and got up and left. Thomas looked at you as you thanked him and he waved his hand dismissively telling you it was nothing, Deep down, secretly, there was a part of him that was glad he could just help you in time. Your friend Russell arrived into the pub a few seconds later as he looked at Thomas with a slightly pale expression on his face. "How about you be punctual on time and not make a lady wait...'' said Thomas as he glared at Russell before he went back to join the others at the booth and continued to stare at you and Russell talking with each other. He hated the feeling that was rising in his chest when he saw you talking to someone else, it was a bitter feeling bubbling inside him

Russell and you talked about your old school memories and how things were back in your childhood days as the two of you caught up with each other on what was going on in each other's lives. Thomas couldn't stand the way you were laughing at that moron's dull jokes, as he scoffed slightly to himself. He saw Russell hugging you which made him clench his fists till his knuckles turned white and he couldn't understand why the hell he was behaving like this for someone he'd just met. Yet, he didn't like the feeling of seeing you with that dimwit. Congratulations, you've managed to spike his curiosity regarding you so you now have the most dangerous mobster in all of Birmingham at your back. He's determined to find out more about you when he's determined to do something, he takes his task at hand very seriously

He'll have Arthur and John dig up information regarding you for him, everything from your history to your daily activities and your likes and dislikes. He's a complete stalker and blends really well in the shadows, his family don't even call him out for his behavior, they're just glad he's finally found someone to love and don't see anything wrong with his obsessive and possessive behavior towards you. Polly is looking forward to making you a part of the family as soon as possible. He'll start off slow, getting to actually know you personally and talking to you. He likes your company and likes hearing your voice. It soothes him and whenever you tell him something about yourself, he'll just smirk slightly to himself since he already knows everything about you, nothing he hasn't heard of before but he'll still play along for your sake

He'll start leaving little gifts at your doorstep like your favorite chocolates or a pretty dress for you to wear or something like that or some of your favorite flowers. You have a feeling like you're being stalked and when you rush to him for protection, his eyes glint with amusement, oh you sweet child, you truly had no idea. But all the same, he's glad and pleased he was the first one to come to your mind when you felt like you needed protection and he's more than willing and pleased to protect you and keep you safe. Rivals? What rivals? He's Thomas FOOKIN Shelby of the Peaky Blinders, when he wants something, he gets it. It's best if you don't know how many people's he's killed for daring to get too close to you. He'll either send John and Arthur to abduct the schmuck in the middle of the night and take the person to a deserted secluded location where Thomas will just use a single bullet to put the lousy scumbag who dared to lay his filthy eyes on you to put them to sleep permanently

He WANTS you to rely on him, it just feeds into that god complex ego of his, but also because he loves you, in his own twisted manner of course. He hates it when you show interest in someone else who's not him, it's like you're insulting him to his face and telling him that he's not good enough for you. Deep down he's just insecure and he doesn't want to lose you, he's already lost plenty of important people in his life and the last thing he wants is to lose you too

He's a control freak, he wants to know EVERY thing that happens in your life and his men are ALWAYS watching your every move. He finally decides to take things to the next step and approaches your parents to ask them for permission to marry you while you aren't in the house. Your father is slightly surprised to see Thomas standing outside his house as he invites him in and after the usual small talk and serving tea, Thomas clears his throat and decides to speak. "Sir...I would like to marry your daughter'' he said as the atmosphere became slightly tense. "Mr. Shelby, with all due respect, I am a father who wishes the best for his daughter. I know what kind of man you are Mr. Shelby, my daughter shall not marry a man as dangerous as you where her life would be at stake constantly or get thrown into the madness of the underworld. Please refrain from seeing my daughter again'' said your father in a firm tone as your mother agreed with his words. Thomas had to hand it to your dad, he was a gutsy courageous man who could actually stand up to him which would make things far more interesting

Seeing your parents and asking them for their permission was merely a formality, he already made preparations to being you to Arrow House which even your parents could not stop. "Mr. L/N, you are a smart man, a father who's willing to protect his darling daughter and I admire that to a certain extent. Your daughter WILL be mine one way or another, coming to see you was just a mere formality. Good day'' said Thomas as he put on his hat and enjoyed the way your father's expression turned pale at his words

That night after you returned back home from your publishing office and you set your books down, during dinner, you saw your parents looking slightly tense and nervous than usual. "Mom, dad...what's the matter'' you asked them gently as they stared at you with mournful looks on their faces. Your mother took a shaky breath before she spoke "Darling...your father and I love you very much, but you...you need to leave Birmingham immediately. It's for your own good'' You stared at them in shock, what were they saying? "Mom, dad... have I...have I become a burden to you both?'' you whispered as your eyes welled up with tears. "Shush child. Don't say such nonsense. You are the light of our lives but that man Thomas Shelby is a dangerous man...he's a relentless monster who wants to make you his and I'll be damned to let my darling daughter get married to a monster like him...you are to leave Birmingham immediately. We've already packed your trunk, you'll be taking the next train to Istanbul where you'll be staying with your aunt and uncle there for a while...it's just temporary my dear...hopefully'' said your father in a gentle tone as he sighed heavily and his eyes welled with tears too

"Mom...dad...I don't want to go, please...'' you said as you sniffed sadly. "It is not up for argument pumpkin, it's for your safety'' said your mother as she said as her voice cracked with emotion and she gulped down a glass of water. After dinner was over, you sat in the carriage with Russell who helped you with your trunk and you hugged your parents as tears streamed down your cheeks, you didn't know how long it would be before you'd get to see them again. You made it to the railway station and got out of the carriage as Russell helped you with your trunk. "It's for your own good you know, Thomas Shelby is a dangerous man...your parents are right. I'll miss you, don't worry, we'll keep in touch with letters'' said Russell as he placed a comforting arm around your shoulder. There weren't any people at the station since it was midnight but you thought it might work in your favor, unaware of what the universe had in store for you

"Step away from my future wife before I shoot you'' said a familiar voice nearby as you saw Thomas and the rest of the men from his Peaky Blinders gang head towards you. Your eyes widened in horror as you tried to back away from them when Russell stood in front of you to protect you from them. "Leave her alone Shelby'' he said. "Tch...how annoying, you know, I'm not a man with regrets but I regret not killing you that day at the Garrison. Not to worry, that can be arranged today'' said Thomas as he brought out a revolver and after a loud bang, your dear friend Russell was now on the ground dead, his eyes looking lifeless as the blood oozed out from his wound and you let out a scream of horror as tears streamed down your eyes. The train to Istanbul was approaching as you saw the train from a distance and your heart almost leapt from relief, this was your chance to escape and leave

John and Arthur held you by your arms and prevented you from escaping as you flailed and screeched on top of your lungs. "Shhh... don't worry, you'll be happy with me. Just be a good girl for me...I'll keep you safe'' he said and those were the last words you heard from him before a rag was placed on your face and you passed out. His passion for your love is beautiful and terrifying at the same time, laced with extreme obsessiveness and devotion to keep you safe. Love truly was the most powerful force of all...

[makriiii]

Caught VIII (Arthur Morgan × f!reader)

Word count: 3.5k

Authors notes: Double spaces...

Warnings: 18+, angst, cursing, gun violence, blood & gore.

Ao3 or wattpad!

@thatlittlered

♡

Caught VIII

A final wipe across the veneer on Charles' shotgun rendered it perfectly clean. The least you could do after borrowing it

After getting all that money just days ago you decided that perhaps it was a good time to get your own shotgun again after losing your last one somewhere up in the Grizzlies.

An extra pair of clothes too. Hard to do much with these worn and dirty clothes.

Washing them and having to get naked was out of the question after the creek. Your socks however had gotten a wash, entirely unwarranted, but they did. Courtesy of Arthur.

You shuddered at the thought of Arthur's body so close to you. Absolutely nothing covering him.

God. You shook the thought out of your head, jumping out of your seat to keep your mind on something other than Arthurs bare body.

Charles was sitting up against a tree, his eyes shut out the world. And you didn't want to startle him, or really bother him, so you simply laid his clean gun beside him and continued to your mount.

You hadnt spent any of the money you got two days ago, which would be more than enough to hook yourself up with a shirt that lacked a hole, and pants void of soot.

It'd been a day since you had seen Arthur. Not sure what activities he was off doing, you were just glad you weren't a part of it.

Your horse stood still for only as long as the time you took to bounce on, pulling away from the tie racks towards town once you got your seat.

Come to think of it, you really hadn't had much time to yourself throughout this entire ordeal.

Often, you'd be off on your own, avoiding most of the company that was brought through by Colms indifferent attitude toward any men who wanted to join.

You'd stick to a select few who you resonated with and had more of a long standing membership with, but those days had passed.

Looking down to the hole that grew in size each day on your dirty shirt, revealing your bandage more and more. You wondered just what clothes you'd find in Valentine. Those surface level thoughts growing deeper and deeper.

Was this really it? Just being handed off into a new gang, essentially, and continuing on your merry way? Certainly wasn't accounted for when you first got caught.

More so was constantly considering that man that somehow found himself in your mind every so often. Still baffled that you had let him sleep in a bed with you.

The money was worth it, you had to reason. Logical reasoning, as it was, was the only thing keeping you from thinking too much further on other things that you were certain to never name.

The longer you sat in your thoughts, the more you barely realized just how close you were to town, completely zoned out and not even consciously taking in your surroundings.

It wasn't until you heard a loud argument that you were finally yanked away from the thoughts in your head.

You looked to the cause of the voices that grew into shouting that you recognized someone from the bar.

The man with the bowler hat. Now you had a mighty fun time with him from what you could recall, and felt you should aid him in some way.

Dismounting and hitching, you strode over, hand laid over your revolver like a snake ready to coil itself around its prey.

You couldn't really tell what it was all about, but the man arguing with your pal took to shoving.

You laid your hand on your friend's shoulder, to get both his attention and the one he was bickering with.

"I hope I'm not too much a bother, but we drank together at the bar, and I figured I'd come over and say hello." You patted him with a warm smile, catching the other man off guard.

"Oh, yes." He didn't sound so sure at first, but when he examined your face further, he lit up. "Yes! I remember you. You'll never be too much a bother, I'm sure."

The other man was now silent and confused, staring daggers straight into you.

"You wouldn't mind if you showed me around town?" You could feel the angry man's eyes stare you down so hard you'd think he was trying to kill you with it.

Your friend looked more than delighted, likely mostly that you had stopped the fight.

"I can, I would not mind at all." He nods his head with an awkward laugh and turns around cautiously to the middle of town, making sure you're not far behind.

"Stop." The smile that had been on both your faces hardened into a more nervous glance. The man wasn't so quick to let you both off.

"I don't think you know me. But I know you." His words hit you like rocks, your stomach dropping like one too.

You turned around slowly to look him in the eye. Your hand ready to strangle your gun.

It wasn't an ideal place to have a shoot out, but when was any situation like this ideal?

The most sinister look waved over the man's face, his dark hat and trench coat adding to the shadow that already covered him.

"I think Colm'd love to see you, Miss. I don't forget faces so easy."

Your breath hitched, feeling your face go cold. You couldn't recall seeing this man from anywhere, and it hurt your head to think on it so hard.

Running through all the possibilities, you thought back to the time Arthur let all your ex-members run off.

You could feel your friend's confusion and uncomfortable demeanor as he shifted his weight nervously.

"I'm sorry, I don't know nobody named Colm. I think you got me mistaken." You turned away, but before you could fully walk off with your pal, your wrist was grabbed by somethin fierce.

You twisted back around, staring him straight down.

"Now you let her go." Your buddy demands, between the two of you, trying to push off the man's hold on you, though he wasn't much taller than you, in fact a bit shorter, and didn't seem to have much in terms of muscling the other, much younger man away.

He stumbles back with an angry scoff when he got another hearty shove.

"This isn't your business old man. Fuck off." He snarls, grabbing you tighter in response.

You hadn't come here to get manhandled again, Arthur was your tipping point. You had already had enough of Arthur.

With all the might you could muster into one leg, you landed it straight on his sensitive areas, kneeing his chest as he keeled over with a massive groan.

As soon as he was on the ground, you stood over him with your gun pointed lowly, almost shy with how you tried to hide it from other prying eyes.

"I want no trouble, you hear?" You crouched down next to the seeming O'Driscoll. A name you couldn't associate with yourself anymore.

He was quiet, staring up at you with eyes that burned like a swarm of angry hornets.

You pushed your gun into the underneath of his chin, a disgusted scowl forming on your face.

"There's law right around that corner there." It was less a threat and more a means to keep them off your tail instead.

He squirmed underneath the barrel of your gun. "I'd prefer to spare myself the dirty hands I'd get by killin you here."

This wasn't something youd normally do, but finally having control over your situation eased the anger you still held for Arthur and the way he had disrespected you for weeks.

The O'Driscoll nodded with much angst, his brows still held tightly together, and his hands around his neck to half shield himself.

You dug your gun in deep before you realesed the pressure and shooed him off with your foot.

"Jesus christ." Your friend drawls, rubbing the back of his head, his hat slightly riding up as he does. "I should thank you, I suppose, really."

Your smile returned once your ex gang member scurried off into town somewhere. You knew it was a mistake to let him go.

"Well, I couldn't go and watch the man who paid for my drinks get pushed around." You hook your arm around his, walking him into the main street with you. "What'd he want with you anyway?"

He shrugged, dismissing it as if it happened often. "He was tryna stick me up, but he already did earlier this week."

A sudden cough fires out of you, meant to be a laugh, but you didn't want to do that in front of this poor man.

"Really he did? Out in the middle of town?"

"Yeah. I think they visit town quite often. Doing something, not sure what."

This piqued your interest. Certainly. More O'Driscolls in town, and none the less the ones who saw your face at Six point cabin.

If his words were true - that meant there's many more of them somewhere here. And suddenly, you felt the weight of the world on you. You didn't want to be here anymore.

"Well, what's your name?" He questioned, looking over to you, pulling you out of your thoughts once again, you hadn't even realized you didn't reply to him.

"Y/n L/n." You met his eye expectantly in return.

"It's nice to finally get your name Miss L/n." His hand pats yours kindly. "You can just call me David."

You returned formalities and continued walking slowly with him. He commented on the ever growing hole in your shirt sleeve, which prompted you to tell him the vibrant story of what predicament you found yourself in, and your quest for clothes.

He nodded his head along with your story, glancing around every so often on the lookout for more malicious men.

Once you finished the rundown, he offered to help you, as there wasn't really a place to get clothes here in town.

"I still have clothes at my cabin not far from here, my late wifes' clothing." You could hear the small strain in his voice when he mentioned her, which made you assume she had passed.

"Oh no, you don't have to do anything for me, David. Honest." You did your best to comfort him without bringing any of it up.

He shakes his head, releasing his arm from yours to gather his horse.

"I insist, you saved me. Plus, I have no need for clothes like that, seeing as I don't wear them." The initial glum in his voice disappeared as fast as it came, playing it off with a joke.

You felt bad, but felt bad if you didnt accept.

You mounted your horse not far from him and followed him to his cabin.

The ride lead down a forested path, the breeze whistled through the trees, and chatter from birds calmed your nerves from the O'Driscoll encounter.

All along the way with David, you conversed with him, though this time, actual talking, rather than some drunken slew you both spat out.

-

You were half way out of town now, having ran by the gunsmith for a new shotgun that now laid on your back with clean clothes.

David had told you about his wife, and how you reminded him of her. It was an hour or so you had spent engaging in conversation with him.

The worry of O'Driscolls and Arthurs nagging hadn't crossed your mind the entire time, which left you feeling more even.

He left you with a few different sets of clothes, all that fit you well.

While he gathered them for you, he told you the story of just why he could give you these clothes. You could tell how much he loved her and it broke your heart to hear how she lost her life while out hunting a bounty.

You had left a stark 50$ on his table before you left, knowing he wouldn't have accepted it otherwise. It was a large sum, but he was more than deserving.

As your horse made it further back to camp, the shadows around you grew as the sun's light dimmed behind the horizon.

Which made it more difficult to see who was walking on the side of the road up ahead. You squinted your eyes when you swore you recognized the man.

He turned his head toward the horse and rider approaching him from behind.

That face. Just as clear as the day you first saw him in the mountains. But why on earth was he here and without a horse?

"Arthur?" You kicked your horse into a small trot before you slowed her when you caught up to him. "Why are you walking?"

You could already tell he wasn't in a good mood, his huffing made that clear.

"Horse ran off." He replied shortly, entirely flat.

"Horse ran off." You repeated without hesitation in a mocking snicker, slapping your knee to add to his disdain.

"Shut your mouth, y/n. You always pick the worst times to play your bullshit."

"Oh boy. You're laughable, Arthur." Tears pricked your eyes at the thought of him falling off his horse. The man, as big and tough he liked to be, still fell.

He grumbled something under his breath. His stomping became more apparent with your teasing.

"Get outta here." He tries shooing your horse away with his hands and the clicking of his tongue, but to no avail. She hardly acknowledged it. "Have you got nothing better to do?"

"I just got done with everything I needed to do. The next is making your life more difficult." You snide, relaxing back on your horse to make it apparent that you weren't going to buzz off just yet.

"Right, then you can take me to my horse." Without warning, he jumps on the back of yours, his grimy hands at the sides of your waist.

You slap them away from you and give him a harsh stare from him right behind you.

"I didn't say shit for yes?" You growl, about ready to shove him off. "Now off with you. I don't ferry people around."

His face remained indifferent, not budging an inch from behind you.

"Before dark would be preferable." He returns, completely ignoring your demand.

"Okay, well I suppose I shall just guess what direction your damn horse went?" You snap at him, your playful attitude dissipating in place of irritation.

He points across, slightly in the way you already came, over, and across a hill.

You ask for a trot back in that direction, your mare not too all happy at Arthurs joining on her back. You couldn't agree more with her attitude.

"How'd you fall off?" You question before you hit a steep incline and his hands clamped back down on your sides to keep him from sliding off.

Your brows knit together, but you had done the same with him and didn't feel like fighting him more.

"Raiders popped out the bushes." He remained vague, a small red over his cheeks if you could see right with the every few glances you sent his way.

"That it?" You chuckle in disbelief. He was the only one you could pry like this without feeling annoying. Well, you felt annoying but that was entirely the point for him.

He stays silent for a moment. His discontent so strong you swore the town could feel it from here.

"How'd you get these clothes?" He questions, ignoring you again. Clearly there had to be more that he kept from you.

You hummed as you capped the hill Arthur directed you over, a deep and rich red sun half blinds you, before you adjust and see the colours of the sunset growing into different shades of orange and pink.

"From a friend." You finally respond, having been mesmerized by the day being pushed away by the moon and the stars behind you.

The trail was calm, and as you looked down, you saw a set of fresh hoofprints. Though if from Arthur's horse, you couldn't be sure, but it was worth a ways to walk.

From where the sun set, you had to turn your head all the way over, so you took out your feet from the stirrups and sat sideways on the saddle.

Arthur slid his hands off you as did this, eyeing you with confusion.

You cocked your head to meet his eye. His face graced by the soft colours of the sunset, his eyes reflecting them back. He had a bit of dirt smudged on it, no doubt from his fall, but that didn't change how it looked in the light.

His face just seconds ago had been tense with irritation, now his lips gave way to a soft, albeit, lofty smile.

"What'd I do to earn that look from you?" He quips, his grin splitting his cheeks when you coil back, an eyebrow extending upwards.

Perhaps you hadn't noticed just how long your eyes searched his face. Your lips pursed together, fixing your gaze back on the sunset.

"Letting your imagination run off with you is tricky business, Arthur." You shook your head, wishing to simply just move on from it.

"Oh I know." A feigned look of agreement on his face. "Although, I saw that with my own two eyes, not with my imagination."

"Saw what?" You groan, wondering if he even had a definition for it.

"The way you looked at me."

You hiss air out of your teeth, rolling your eyes at him. "I would trust only a doctor to diagnose me with Stockholm syndrome."

Now you earned a hearty chuckle from him, which made you wanna push him off and just leave him even further from camp.

"Don't think it'd be that if I already let you go."

He simply wouldn't let it go. You were naive to think he would in the first place.

"I can assure you, your face isn't something most want to look at. You just have dirt all over it." You grip at your saddles horn with bitterness, trying to ward off the warmth you felt on your cheeks.

"Keep your eyes lookin for your animal. Before I have you fallin off this horse too." You added a threat to your insult before he could refute any of it.

"Alright, alright." He conceded, finally stopping with the snickering, but his smile that always had you vexed remained.

"You know, I heard there's some O'Driscolls in town. Maybe holed up somewhere." You tried changing the subject, and it worked. His eyes meeting yours with a more serious look.

"They want you that bad huh?" His voice was full of insinuation, which had you sighing with more aggravation.

"It's not because I'm whatever it is you call it - special girl- that bullshit." You wave your hand in front of his face to get him to stop before he started.

BAM!

Your retelling was cut short when a gunshot rang the air around you both, your horse jerking underneath you out of shock.

Arthur was quick to duck down and cover you, his face estranged from the previous joy he had on it.

You kicked your leg back over your saddle and made for a quick lope, Arthur all the while grasping for his shotgun at his back.

"Think those are the O'Driscolls you mentioned." He clamors and with the click of his shotgun, sent off a blast at the three that tailed you.

You hissed out a curse under your breath, dropping the reins around your saddles horn whilst you grabbed for your gun as well.

Shouts and yelling came from the men, and another that you had already regrettably let live.

A shot whizzed right by your face, your blood running cold just from the spot it had grazed you.

"Preferably alive, fools!" He screeches at the one who was already in for Arthurs bullet.

You shoot again, but an unexpected turn from your horse made you miss the men.

You glanced back ahead, a horse who was alarmed at the sudden commotion was up ahead, standing innocently.

By the time you looked back, there were another few men who had gained on you. Replenishing the ones Arthur took out already.

"Goddamnit." He reloads once more. "Hard to aim from back here."

"Well, fret not." You assure with a shout over the yelling from behind you. "I hope you can get on a horse fast."

You were still a ways away, not made any better when the thing started running off in front of you.

Now the ones being pursued, were also pursuing. God, you weren't sure this was going to go well for you.

Another blast rings out, a warmth covering your arm, yet you couldn't tell if it was just Arthurs arm making contact with yours or not.

You looked over for confirmation, but instead met by splattered blood. You nearly felt you had gotten shot again, but Arthurs grunts of pain met your ear instead of your own.

[zarkishere]

alright, here it is :

Why deaths matter in stories, a Zark Rant ™ (With spoilers, obviously)

(I always value opinions, so feel free to rb or comment!)

I think it shouldn't need to be said that I LOVE the Callander brothers, so of course I wish we had more content on them, given my pinned, but... I'll say it anyway.

I'd love to know where they're really from, personality, looks, etc. Although I think we can gather a little bit from the few interactions we have about them, like Mac being someone quick to anger and Davey being very prone to addictions; gambling and alcohol as an example. Jenny having a 'spark' which I think means she was sassy and quick-witted, but that's just my opinion. I still WISH we knew more about the three of them, but their deaths (and the rest of the deaths in the game) MATTERED. EVERY death in EVERY piece of media SHOULD matter. You can't kill a character just because.

The thing is, I've seen a few people say (Unironically, let me add) that their deaths meant nothing...which....what??? Did we play the same game?

Let's start by stating the obvious; if nothing happens in a story, as in, no characters die or someone gets hurt or ANYTHING happens...you don't have a story. A good story has a good conflict, it needs tension, it needs something to move the plot. In rdr2...there's a lot of shit going on....the law are after the gang, the wapiti's problems, problems WITHIN the gang, etc...

Given some interactions, it could be theorized that issues with Dutch being a little 'erratic' per se has happened before. Arthur seems to think it'll just go back to normal, that they just have to wait for Dutch to go back to 'normal' (Which is a little scary ngl. One of your surrogate parents getting mood-swings that end in people dying being 'normal'...god bless you Arthur Morgan <3)

I won't talk about it further, cause there's enough people talking about it, but Dutch probably has BPD or another sort of personality disorder that makes him like that...

Why am I talking about this? well, by the time we're playing as Arthur, Dutch is slowly going deeper and deeper into this 'manic' state (I'm using that word in quotes because I'm unsure of what other word to use, I apologize if I'm using it incorrectly.)

Why? Well, there's a good few reasons, but one of them is the ferry job.

It's the Callanders and Jenny's death. It's the fact that it went SO DAMN WRONG that they were cornered, and he nearly lost everything. We don't know exactly what happened, but it ended in him listening to Micah AGAIN (Even after all that shit going wrong. And he continues to listen to Micah again and again...) and killing a young girl in what was, apparently, a 'bad way'. He didn't listen to Hosea and Arthur, and it almost cost him his own life. It costed him much more, too.

You may say whatever you want about Dutch, but at the start of the game, he at least SEEMED to truly care about his gang members. Sure, he was already a little paranoid, but he even saved Sadie. He could've left her. He left John and Arthur at the end, his own sons, so why not leave her back then? Because he wasn't down spiraling just yet. He was his more 'normal' self, the caring and sweet leader everyone followed. The man that they all praised. Later on in the story the ferry job, his friends deaths, his best friend's (if not more) death and just all the stress put on his shoulders weighed him down to his knees, and all he could look up to was Micah, the one person praising him so much his ego inflated into a balloon he THOUGHT would bring him up again. It did not. Their death were a sign the gang was gonna start to fall apart. It was a sign that listening to Micah would only end in pain and suffering...and Dutch didn't listen. He never does. He cared. Their deaths struck him. And then more people died, and more shit went wrong, and MORE shit went wrong and--

In the words of someone I talked this with : " There's an entire story for a reason. The plot exists for a reason. If you want to create a fix-it, that's fine. You want to revive characters, that's fine! But never forgot the true point of the game. Their time was very short, but their deaths had an impact, and to so bluntly go "It meant nothing" ouhh. ..Ouhhh.. OuhhohjgI WILL FIND UOU "

( they suffered LOL ) ( ly Sye <3 )

So...yes, their deaths mattered. Not only Dutch suffers from it, too. Arthur always tries to stay calm around Jack, dimming down situations to keep him happy (Which is admirable, given the amount of shit that poor kid sees.), yet he is visibly FUMING when the agents talk about Mac's death, he even throws his rod to the sand. Arthur solemnly mentions Davey while they're playing poker. Bill talks about Mac with obvious care. Sean says it's a shame they died, Lenny misses Jenny and Hosea talks about her fondly, Karen mentions her to Javier.... You get my point? To these characters, they weren't just fictional, they were people they lived with for who knows how long, people they eat together with, people they shared emotional moments with...and even though it's clear the Callanders weren't the best of people, they were missed. After so much shit happens, the gang has barely any time to grieve their companions. Yet they do. Mostly silently, perhaps, just a chat or two to not break down completely. But no one is forgotten. Everyone is buried. Everyone is talked about. I'm unsure how to end this...so....uhm...thanks for coming to my ted-talk LOL.

might go on a rant about the Callanders and their importance cause ive seen too many people be like " oh i wish they were more than just oops dead characters " like please lets put on our thinking caps

[snippychicke]

~☽ Moonstone ☾~ (Five)

Fandom: Moon Knight(TV)

Rating: Mature/Explicit (This chapter, Teen for graphic violence)

Pairing: Khonshu/Reader (unnamed cis!female character)

Summary: Before Marc and Steven, before Arthur Harrow, Khonshu had another avatar. Well, hundreds of thousand of others, but this is the story of one in particular that Khonshu was fond of.

First Part: Action! Adventure! Blood! Pain! Maybe some foreshadowing???

Second Part: So, @musingsofanauthor had posted the following:

The first time that Y/N realizes that they killed someone because of what they did sends them into a catatonic state for like a whole day, and Khonshu is just like......not sure how to help them? He's never had an avatar react this way before and he doesn't know what to do. He just sort of pokes them with his staff.

Khonshu: *pokes Y/N with his staff* "Hello? Earth to mortal?"

Y/N: *sits there*

And then they randomly come out of it.

Y/N: "Poke me with your staff again and I'll break it and shove it up your godly ass."

And well, it resonated with this story a little too much. So I used it as inspiration (With consent, of course.)

On Ao3| Masterpost for Moonstone

Tagging List: (OH MY FUCKING HELL. You guys have really blown up. I am sorry to those I missed last time! )

@lots-of-love-anon | @stuckys-lilwhore | @jamiethenerdymonster | @madameasbjorn | @beautifulbows924 | @nikitawolfxo | @Huitzilinthebudgie3 | @mahaloapollo | @isa-grant | @7athens7 | @mona-has-friends | @hayley-the-comet

If you want added to the list; please put your screenname here!

Now, finally, the story!

Purple fire flared out from where Harrow tapped Ammit’s staff against the stone floor. The man’s eyes were closed as he chanted—Steven could barely catch the words, his mind trying to work out what language and what exactly he was saying. 

And then Layla and you each had a fistful of his jacket and were dragging him up the stairs. 

Ah. Right. Running for their lives. Which seemed reasonable, considering the violet flames, while not burning, caused the stone pillars to crumble to something less than dust, the steel rebar rusting and drifting away as well.

Ammit’s followers blocked their escape, but both women seemed unbothered. Layla was steady, precise and strong as she dodged, blocked, and quickly incapacitated whomever stood in her path. While you swept through your opponents like the gale winds that surrounded them with a snarl on your lips, your stolen knife quickly bloodied with vicious strikes. 

Steven knew little about what was going on, but he was uncomfortably aware of how terrified yet aroused he was by both you and Layla as you fought through.

But the mystic flames following them kept him thankfully on track with being just terrified. “Uh, guys? Er, ladies?” 

The two turned from their fights, fear flickering over their own expressions as they saw the approaching fire. 

You cursed as you slashed a man’s throat, not even watching as he fell before grabbing Steven with the same hand covered in blood and shoving him up the steps. “Run! Get! Now!” 

You had barely shoved Layla up, who seemed just as intent on making sure you got up the stairs first leading to a minor squabble, when the flames reached you.

 Steven could only watch in horror as you gasped sharply in pain, or so he presumed. He had seen the flames destroy everything it touched. Except you didn’t melt or fall apart like everything else. He saw a flicker of something in your eyes before silver light flared from your chest, pushing back the flames. 

You stumbled to your knees, and Steven could barely move before Layla was already helping you back to your feet and then hobble up the stairs. 

“Go!” Layla yelled, and that’s all Steven needed.

---

You could feel it. Khonshu’s blessing was warmer, far brighter than it had ever been. You could almost believe the mantle of avatar had returned to you, but at the same time, this was different. You focused on the power, seeing if that link to the moon god had been restored and allowed Steven and the other woman, Layla, to guide your body wherever they were going.

But there was nothing but a faint, wispy link, leading seemingly no where. If Khonshu was on the other end, he was silent. 

It hurt more than you wanted to admit. Was Harrow right? Had Khonshu left you for another reason? 

But if so, why? You had been as powerful as ever, not broken, whatever that meant. Yes, you had been struggling in your life at the time, but that was nothing new. It was the price you had to pay as his avatar, one you had been willing to pay. You had endured it for so many years at that point, figured it had been another low, and soon you would either get used to it, or it would get better. 

You had Khonshu, and had your purpose in life. You had been willing to give anything of your mundane life up for him. You still were willing to do whatever for him, so foolishly head over heels and devoted to him.

But had he felt the same? You tried to recall everything from back then. You had known something had shifted in those last few weeks, that he had been drawing away from you, but had thought in retrospect, he was preparing himself to leave. 

What if there had been another reason? What if you had done something that caused his feelings to change? To make him no longer feel you were worthy of being his Moon Knight?

What if he had lied, and you really had failed him? 

The thought was too painful for you to dwell on. You forced it out of your head and focused on what was going on around.

Which, seeing Layla knelt next to Steven, trying to calmly convince him into donning the suit, just confirming your fear that something was dreadfully wrong. Especially since the gift shopist was crouched in a fetal position, hands covering his head on the verge of a breakdown. 

Before you could even think how to help, something banged on the doors. The metal doors rattled, the lock obviously not going to hold for much longer. 

Okay. If they couldn’t rely on the moon’s knight, then you’ll make do. You scanned the room and grabbed a metal rod that must have been left over from the scaffolding. It was awkward in your hands, not like your old staff. 

But it would work. 

The doors suddenly burst open, but it wasn’t Harrow’s goons as you expected. Just an empty doorway.  

You couldn’t see anything, but apparently Steven could as he shouted: “Jackal!” frantically. 

Ah. Great. Harrow somehow had control over the infamous Death Dog of the underworld. And you had no way to see it, just a foreboding sense of its presence. But you also had no time to think of how to approach the problem when the jackal apparently launched itself at Steven, shoving him through the window. 

“Shit,” Laya cursed, which you seconded as you met the other woman at the window, trying to see where Steven landed. Instead, you could see a car dent as the jackal landed, stalking towards a figure in white. 

He changed Khonshu’s garb. Not the dark white wrappings of his ceremonial garb, but a pure white suit and ski-like mask. And… he fought as well as you had suspected when you had first thought that he could be Khonshu’s new avatar. “He’s going to get himself killed,” you growled, looking back into the storage room. 

You needed to see that damned dog.

“That’s not Marc’s suit,” Layla commented, sounding as confused as you felt. “What the hell is going on?” 

“My sentiments exactly,” you agreed, seeing a can of paint and grabbing it, a bad idea forming in your mind. But it was better than no plan. “Also, who the fuck is Marc?” 

“He’s Marc. I think. They are similar not to be, but…” she trailed off as she watched you climb onto the fire escape, the wind suddenly whipping up. “What are you doing?”

“Something incredibly stupid,” you admitted as you tossed the paint into the wind, and watched as it splatter both on Steven and the jackal, dying them a bright canary yellow. 

“What? Really?” Steven shouted, sounding outraged. Until he saw you climb on the ledge of the guardrail, aiming your make-shift staff. “Oh no. Oh god. What are you doing?!” 

---

If you didn’t kill yourself, Khonshu swore he was going to kill you for causing him this much terror. 

But heavens, you looked so magnificent, so much like your former self. That ache in his chest deepened as he remembered when you were his avenging knight, that familiar expression of determination on your face moments before his mask covered it and you lept. 

He used all his power, as weak as it with the worm already calling upon it, to guide your descent and help your aim remain true as you landed. 

The jackal moved, preventing you from impaling it between the shoulders as you intended, but the steel rod still sliced through its flesh before clanging against the cement. Followed closely by your knees, your muffled cry of pain barely audible. But to him, it might as well had been a scream, cutting him to his core. So did the hiss as you forced yourself to stand, your teeth gritting together as you turned, facing the jackal covered in paint.

 He could see the pain on your face, even if he couldn’t sense it as he once could. But you refused to let that stop you as you threw yourself at the jackal with a roar of rage.

The fight only worsened from there, you and the worm tag-teamed against the jackal, and still obviously failing. The worm didn’t know how to fight, and you were just a silly powerless mortal against a supernatural being that chased and dragged souls back to the underworld.

Or maybe not completely powerless. Khonshu clenched his staff, fear similarly clenching his spirit as he watched as the jackal bite down on your arm, only for its teeth to be blocked by a barrier of silver light. He wondered if you even noticed as you turned and jabbed the being with your staff without hesitating. 

But he did. Because that wasn’t his power. At least, not fully. Did his blessing years ago leave you protected in such a way? Or was this the consequences Hathor mentioned when trying to dissuade him from bonding with you all those years ago? 

Thankfully Marc finally took control over the body, transforming into his true knight and quickly get the jackal away from innocents. But Khonshu lingered, watching the two women.

 Layla approached his beloved, offering a hand before helping the other woman limp away to safety as the rush of the battle faded and you could feel every injury. Both missing the scarab that laid on the pavement, covered by broken glass.

Yet, he could hardly blame the two. Instead, he ached to heal his previous avatar as he followed the two to assure you were safe. He could see the blood seeping from the various wounds you had gained, worried about the ones he couldn’t see or even sense. Mortals were so fragile, a little internal bleeding and…

No. His beloved moonstone was stronger than that. He had to have faith in you, just as he hoped you had faith in him and knew what Harrow implied was nothing but lies.  

~☽ O ☾~

Dead. The people you had… killed… were dead. On the news. 

Human trafficking ring leaders killed under mysterious circumstances. Witnesses claim a white ghost freed those held captive.

You remembered those faces. Remembered them laughing as they lit up their cigarettes. Remembered jumping from the roof of the building, staff aimed true to piece one man’s skull as you landed, quickly twirling to kick the next. After that, it was a flurry of guns, blood, and everything else that just blurred together. 

You thought your violent hallucinations were just that: stuff your mind was coming up with as it tried to deal with stress, unlocking some serious issues you had been unaware of. 

But what if Khonshu was right? What if he wasn’t a figment of your demented imagination, but a truly a deity whom you made a pact with? To enact his vengeance in return for saving you from death. 

Because you killed those men. And there was no way you could have done it otherwise. Not when they were several hundred miles away. 

You were vaguely aware of Khonshu appearing, of him talking about another job, but you were too wrapped up in your mind to really process it. You barely processed him tapping your on the head with the tip of his staff, calling your name instead of ‘small one’ when he loved to annoy you, or ‘ingrate’ as he was fond of doing when irritated.

Heck, you barely saw him when he knelt down in front of you, long limbs folding so he could be on near eye level as you sat in your chair. Your mind was a thousand miles away, remembering every single fight. Every single person you may have actually killed.

You only snapped when he moved to tap you a second time with his staff. Your hand shot out and grasped his staff as you snarled: “I swear that if you poke me with your staff one more time, I’ll snap it in half and shove it up your godly ass.”

You met Khonshu’s empty sockets, trying to win an unwinnable glaring contest. Because surely he was glaring at you for such a reaction. He got irritated at you for much less insolence. He tilted his head slightly, regarding you carefully. “I’d almost like to see you try, small one.”

Ah, so no, he wasn’t angry. He was amused by your threat. Because of course he was.

“I murdered those men,” you snarled, gesturing to the television. “Let’s see if I can murder a god.” 

Your throat choked up as your words hit you. You murdered them. There was actual blood on your hands. You had taken their lives and snuffed them out without a second thought. 

“Oh god,” you wheezed, dropping your cereal onto the floor and curling into a ball. “I-I killed them; I killed all of them. I’m-I’m a murderer. A mass murderer. A serial killer. Holy fuck.” 

“You ended their presence in this world, but they signed their death when they dirtied their hands with the blood of innocents,” Khonshu tried to reassure, or at least that’s what you presumed he was doing. Or maybe he was just stating what he thought was obvious. “You are my fist, my weapon to dole out justice and vengeance on behalf of those who cannot. So do not blame yourself for their deaths, for you are only carrying out my will.” 

He held out his hand to you, a silent offering, but you were reluctant to take it, knowing what it meant this time. “But am I really okay just following your blind orders?” you asked instead, staring at the dusty bandages that wrapped around the long fingers of his hand. “I mean, we had this whole debate in class about guilt and blame in the chain of command. It’s complicated and messy, and…” 

“That is your human military,” he interjected, softly and surprisingly patient. “I am Khonshu and you are my avatar. I swear to you I will never lead you wrong and your hand shall never fall upon anyone who doesn’t deserve it.” 

You were nuts. Certifiably insane. Because you looked into those vacant sockets and felt his truth resonate in your chest. You trusted him. You trusted in him. “Pinky swear?” You held out your pinky instead of accepting his hand, and despite the lack of expression on his face, could tell he was confused. 

But he mimicked your gesture and allowed you to wrap your much smaller finger around his.

[hchollym]

Your hc of bill and Fleur getting divorced is something I don’t see often but I’ve had similar thoughts before!! I love both characters but I think it went to fast and there were so many differences between them that didn’t bring them closer. Potentially there’s a chance of it working but I, like you, can’t imagine Bill willing going to therapy.

Thank you! I’m glad that I’m not the only one! 😊

Yeah, I don’t think Bill would have any issues with his siblings getting therapy, but I just don’t think he would go himself (likely because of a subconscious pride and toxic masculinity thing - “It’s okay for them, but I don’t need it”). 

I’ll admit that I’m biased about Bill x Fleur, because I'm one of the few people that dislikes this pairing, which I wrote about in this post. I know it’s an unpopular opinion, but there are just so many things that bother me about them, so here comes a rant. 🤣

My Issues with Bill x Fleur

1. When they started dating, Fleur was just out of high school while Bill was in his mid-twenties. 

2. Fleur jumped into a relationship right after she moved to a new country and was suddenly isolated (physically) from her friends and family.

3. Bill never defended her to his family.

4. To continue with my first point, Fleur seemed like a lovesick teenager around Bill: 

“’E is always so thoughtful,” purred Fleur adoringly, stroking Bill’s nose.

...Fleur, who was now feeding Bill bits of turkey off her own fork...

“Did you hear about Florean Fortescue, Remus?” asked Bill, who was being plied with wine by Fleur.

There’s nothing wrong with that, per se, but it makes her seem too young (in my opinion), and they just don’t feel like a mature, established couple.

5.  I also think there's something to be said about the fact that they did get married during a war - yes, they could have definitely done so for the right reasons, but it's also possible that it was more of a reaction to the unstable situation that caused the feeling of "life is short." It's a little telling that Bill takes a desk job because of the war, and suddenly he's in a serious relationship with the woman he's going to marry. It could be a coincidence, but it could not be. 🤷‍♀️

6. Bill & Fleur seem to be the next generation of Molly & Arthur in terms of their relationship dynamic - the dominant woman and the passive man who only contributes when prompted. This is obvious by the way he never intervenes with Molly & Fleur and in scenes like this:

They needed Griphook. The goblin ate only grudgingly with the rest of them. Even after his legs had mended, he continued to request trays of food in his room, like the still-frail Ollivander, until Bill (following an angry outburst from Fleur) went upstairs to tell him that the arrangement could not continue.

I would assume that this does not suddenly change when they have children. Again, there's nothing wrong with that, per se, but it does make the relationship seem unbalanced, and it's unfair that Molly/Fleur are left to handle the discipline and be the "bad guy" most of the time. For many people, that would eventually lead to resentment because they do not feel like their spouse is contributing to the emotional work of raising children (unless specifically asked to do so).

7. This is more of a side complaint (not a major one), but we literally never see any actual conversations take place between them. They occasionally address each other in one sentence, but it’s never anything more than that, which is odd. We see each of them have conversations with other characters, but not with each other. Yes, Harry's perspective is limited, but he's been around them together several times, and we’ve seen conversations take place between every other pairing in the books (like Remus x Tonks). I don't know; it not a big deal, but it just feels off to me.

That's just my interpretation though, and it's certainly based partially on my own experiences in life/relationships, so feel free to ignore it!

Thanks for the comment! 😊

[chrizbang]

Pairing: Lee Felix x female reader

Genre: Smut

Warnings: mature content, lowkey slow burn, breeding kink, soft!dom Felix, creampie.

Word count: 2.975

You and Ashley have been friends for four years now. You went through a lot of hardships together, especially when Ashley had an unplanned pregnancy in the last year of college. Luckily, Mason, now her husband, is an amazing person, and even though it was hard, she was able to graduate. You loved her baby, Arthur, so much, like it was your little brother. You knew that their anniversary was getting closer and you wanted to surprise her.

"No way, I cannot ask you for something like that."

"You're not asking, I'm offering. Besides, you know I love spending time with Arthur," you said, holding your phone with one hand while you tried to wash the dishes you used to eat dinner with the other. 

"I don't know Y/N..."

"Girl, just stop. I'm not taking a no for an answer. Spending quality time with your husband is important and I know that you have been not getting laid lately."

"You have no idea how hard it is to have sex with a one-year-old making a mess everywhere." You both laughed. 

"I'll go to your house tomorrow at 7 pm. Get a reservation at a nice restaurant, get shaved and, wear your best dress. I want you and Mason to have a good time together."

"Okay, but only because it is our anniversary. I'm gonna take this as a present." Ashley sighed, knowing that she had to say yes anyway.

"Because it is, Ashley. I'll see you tomorrow, bye."

"Bye, honey."

You finished your shores and were planning on watching some videos on youtube when you heard your phone buzzing. You picked it up and saw that you had a message.

Felix, 8:45 pm: Hey

Felix, 8:45 pm: Sorry for messaging late but, are you free tomorrow?

You chuckled. Almost 9 pm wasn't late.

Y/N, 8:46 pm: Sorry, I'm going to my friend's house after work.

Y/N, 8:47 pm: I'm going to babysit her baby so she can go have dinner with her husband.

You met Felix at work, during lunch. He was new there and you have seen him sometimes walking around the place, but you never talked to him. Until one day when he dropped his coffee on you. You remembered how embarrassed he was, his cheeks were red and he profusely apologized. Ever since, you had some small talk with him here and there until one day you gave him his number, saying that he could message you if he needed help with something from work. You know it was bullshit since he was from a different department, but still, you needed an excuse to talk to him. He messaged you a few times but eventually, you thought it was a lost cause.

Y/N, 8:57 pm: Why do you ask?

Felix, 9:00 pm: Nothing.

Felix, 9:01 pm: It's silly.

Y/N, 9:03 pm: If it was that silly, you wouldn't have messaged me.

Y/N, 9:03 pm: Spit it out.

Felix, 9:12 pm: There's a convention for Star Wars fans tomorrow. You said that you loved the movies one time so I bought tickets for you.

Y/N, 9:14 pm: Why didn't you tell me before? 

Felix, 9:15 pm: I didn't know if you would want to go. But it's okay, don't worry about it.

You thought for a moment. You really wanted to spend time with him. Felix was so sweet, respectful and kind. He was also very, very handsome.

Y/N, 9:30 pm: Do you wanna come to my friend's house tomorrow with me? 

You looked at your phone five minutes later and saw that Felix visualized the message but didn't answer. "Congratulations, you fucked it up, Y/N," you said.

You sat on your couch and turned the tv on, planning on finally watching your favorite youtube videos, when you heard your phone buzzing again.

Felix, 9:50 pm: Sure, why not? Is it okay with your friend? She doesn't know me.

You sighed, happy that he answered.

Y/N, 9:51 pm: I'm gonna tell her but I'm pretty sure she'll be fine.

"Is he cute?" Ashley asked, putting on her earring. She looked gorgeous with a tight red dress that accentuated her curves and contrasted with her dark skin. Her curly hair was in a bun, leaving her neck and shoulders exposed. You knew Mason would love it.

"He is very cute. And he's so nice too. I only invited him over because he seems really sweet."

You went to Ashley's house one hour before she would leave for dinner so you could help her get ready, and by help, you meant to force her to wear something that wasn't a t-shirt and jeans.

"How do I look?" she turned around, facing you.

"Gorgeous as always."

Ashley hugged you tight. "Thank you so much, Y/N. You know you don't have to do this, right?"

"But I want to."

The bell rang.

"That's probably Felix," you said.

"Let's go downstairs, I wanna meet this boy."

When you went to the living room you saw Felix talking to Mason.

"Hello, I'm Ashley, nice to meet you."

"I'm Felix, nice to meet you too," Felix raised his hand so he could shake Ashley's hand but she gave him a light hug. You smiled, finding really cute how awkward he was.

"Arthur is sleeping now, he already ate, but if he wakes up, there's milk on the fridge. He usually sleeps all night so you don't have much to worry about."

"Okay, you guys have to go before you're late for dinner," you said, pulling Mason and Ashley towards the door.

"Call me if you need anything. We'll be back tomorrow morning so you'll don't have much trouble with him."

"Don't worry about it. You can take your time."

"Also, don't forg-"

"Baby, we have to go," Mason insisted, holding her hand and trying to get her inside of the car.

"Fine. Bye everyone, see you tomorrow."

You waved at them before going inside and closing the door.

"I'm gonna check on Arthur for a second, you can wait here, okay?" You told Felix.

"Sure."

You went upstairs and checked on Arthur's room. He was sleeping soundly. You felt the urge to lightly pinch his chubby little cute cheeks but you decided not to bother him. You went to the living room again and Felix was sitting on the couch.

"Are you hungry? We bought pizza."

"Uhm, not really."

"Are you sure?" you insisted.

"Okay, one slice would be good."

Felix got up and followed you to the kitchen.

"Your friend has a beautiful house," he said, admiring the place.

"She does. I mean, she's an architect and Mason is an engineer, so they were able to buy a nice place," you cut a piece and handed it to him.

"You said that you studied together."

"We went to the same college, but I graduated in graphic design. For obvious reasons, I don't make as much money as them," you laughed. "Did you always wanted to work in a publishing company?" Felix sat on the balcony standing in the middle of the kitchen. "Honestly, I just wanted to work with what I love. Graphic design is not something that people value but it is what makes me happy." You looked at him and Felix smiled at you, his dimple prominent on his face. He was so cute. "What about you?" "Oh, marketing is definitely not something I dreamed of working with. My family has a long line of people that have been working with it, so I barely had a choice,” Felix confessed. "Oh, yeah?" "Yeah." He looked thoughtful like his mind was somewhere else. "I actually wanted to work with art. I love painting." "Really? That's so cool. Do you have a picture of a painting to show me? I would love to see it." Felix hesitated for a while before he grabbed his phone and scrolled through his gallery. "Please don't think I'm weird," he said before showing you the picture. You raised your eyebrows when you saw what was on the screen of his phone. A beautiful painting of you. You realized that he used your profile picture on Facebook as a reference. "Felix, this is amazing." "It took me a week to finish it," he said, holding his hands behind his back, clearly feeling shy. "I love it, really." You and Felix finished eating. You talked more about your plans for the future, the things you wanted to do with your life, your dreams. You were sitting on the couch watching tv when you heard Arthur crying upstairs. "Ops, somebody woke up." You got up to go to his room and you noticed that Felix was following you. "You don't have to go if you don't want to." "It's fine, I wanna help you." When you entered the room, Arthur was up in his crib, deeply crying. "It's okay," you said in a soft tone, picking him up. "I think somebody needs to change its diaper," Felix said. "You are right," you laughed. "Let's change this little boy." You put Arthur on the changing mat and started to change him, but to be honest, you had no idea what you were doing. Felix laughed. "Let me help you." Felix quickly changed his diaper, he clearly knew what he was doing. "Woah, how do you know that?" you asked, looking at him dumbfounded. He laughed again, amused by your reaction. "I have a small brother so I have changed his diaper plenty of times." "Aaah, that explains a lot."

"Let's see if he wants to eat," Felix said, holding Arthur in his arms. You went to the kitchen and looked for the milk. After pouring it into a pan, you heated it up. "We need to make sure we don't overheat it so it won't burn the baby," Felix said while he tested the milk's temperature. You put it into a baby bottle and gave it to Arthur who promptly drank it. "I guess he was hungry," Felix chuckled. "Do you plan on having kids, Felix?" you looked at him, completely mesmerized by how good he was with kids. "Yes, I love kids. I plan on having two kids one day." "That's so cute, I'm sure you'll be an amazing dad." Felix smiled, making your heart skip a beat. "Do you want to have kids, Y/N?" he looked apprehensive. "Yeah, one day. I still need to find the right person." "Of course." Arthur went back to sleep again when he was done eating. "Not gonna lie, taking care of a baby can be tiring," claimed said, sitting on the couch. Felix sat next to you, his knee touching your leg. "Do you want to watch a movie?" you asked. "Sure!" Twenty minutes later, you started to sleep. Your head felt heavy until it fell on Felix's shoulder. He simply smiled, enjoying the feeling of you so close to him.

The sound of the bell ringing woke you up. You were laying on the couch, a blanket over your body. You looked around and Felix was sleeping on the smaller couch next to yours, with just a pillow under his head. You got up and answered the door. "Hey!" Ashley said, hugging you. "Hi. How was your night?" "It was amazing. Thank you so much, Y/N." Ashley went to the middle of the living room to drop her bag on the couch, Mason following behind. "How's Arthur? Did he behaved?" Mason asked. "Yeah, he slept almost all of the time." You rubbed your eyes, still feeling sleepy. Ashley turned around, seeing Felix sleeping on the couch. "You guys could have slept in the guest room," she laughed. "I'm gonna check on Arthur. What about some breakfast later?" Mason suggested. "That sounds great, but I think we should go home. Besides, you guys need to spend some family time with your baby." You woke Felix up, and while he was trying to get conscious, you chatted with Ashley about dinner. Mason went downstairs with Arthur and you chatted a little more before leaving. "Do you want me to take you home?" Felix asked, leaving Ashley's house by your side. "No, it's okay, I'll get an Uber." "Aw, come on. I'm not gonna let you leave on an Uber so early in the morning." You looked at him, admiring the freckles on his skin. His pink lips looked soft and you had to fight the urge to kiss him. "You know what, okay. I'll go with you." The drive to your house was silent, the music playing on the radio helped you to distract the thoughts on your head. The night you spent with Felix was amazing, seeing him being so sweet like that only made you even more attracted to him. Felix stopped in front of your house. "Well, we are here." "Do you want to come in?" "Oh... uhm, sure, yes, that would be great." You smiled and left the car, running to open the door for him. "Please don't mind the mess," you said, taking some clothes that were on the couch. "Don't worry about it." "Do you want to eat something?" "I'm fine, I'm still full because of the pizza from yesterday." "Okay." There was an awkward silence for a while and you realized you didn't think this through. Invite him over and what? "You know what? There's something I want to eat," Felix said. "Oh, okay. What do you want? I have bread, cereal, we can make panca-" "You." "What?" you looked at him, your eyes wide. "I w-want to eat you." Felix stuttered, his face showing that he was feeling too shy to be saying the words that left his mouth. "Oh, I'm... I-" you didn't have the chance to finish, Felix approached you and kissed you. You were still processing what was happening so you didn't kiss him back yet. Felix noticed and stopped kissing you. "I-I'm so sorry, Y/N, I shoul-" "No! It's okay. I just wasn't expecting." You kissed him, holding his face and tasting his lips. His left hand held the back of your head while the other held your waist. He bit your lower lip, his tongue entering your mouth and playing with yours. He pressed his body against yours and you felt his semi-hard dick. You whined, trying to control your breath. "Do you want to keep going?" Felix asked, his forehead resting against yours. You simply nodded. "Where's your room?" You grabbed his hand, guiding him to your room. Once you were inside, Felix slammed you against the door, pressing his body into yours. He started to grind his clothed cock on your heat and, this time, you couldn't hold your moans anymore. "Felix," was all you managed to say before he kissed you again. A messy kiss that screamed how much he was longing for you, how much he desired you. His hand grabbed your ass, pulling you closer as if it was even possible. "I wanna taste you," he said, taking you to the bed. You laid down and he wasted no time to take off your pants, pulling your panties with them in a swift movement. Soon enough, his tongue was exploring your wet lips, savoring the taste of your arousal. Felix played with your clit, his tongue sliding against the sensitive skin. You hoped that your neighbors had already left for work, otherwise you would end up waking them up because of your moans. Felix stopped eating you out to unbutton his shirt. "You have no idea how much I wanted to fuck you," he said, his voice deep, making you raise your hips, craving to be filled up. "Felix, please," you moaned. "You want me to fuck you, baby?" "Yes, please." It was embarrassing, you weren't used to begging. Most of the time that you had sex, you were always the one in control. But not with Felix. "Are you on the pill?" Felix asked, taking the rest of his clothes off and pumping his rock-hard cock. "Yeah, please fuck me." "Anything for you," he growled, sliding his dick into your dripping pussy. Felix already started an incessant pounding into you, stealing moans from your throat. "You are so fucking beautiful." You closed your eyes, feeling the burning on your stomach getting stronger. "Fuck, so fucking good, Y/N. You are taking me so well." "Please, don't s-stop." "Turn around, I wanna fuck you from behind." You didn't have much strength left, but Felix helped you out. He was inside of you again, hitting the right spots in this position. Felix felt your pussy tightening against his dick and he started to play with your clit. "Fuck, Felix, I'm gonna cum," you screamed, not being able to control yourself anymore. You came, a long moan leaving your mouth. "I'm gonna cum inside of your little pussy, I'm gonna fill you up so good." He didn't slow his pace, his hips hitting yours in a fast rhythm. "I'm gonna put a baby in your little cute belly, baby girl," he said, closing his eyes as his dick slid in and out of your pussy. "Fuck," you moaned. "You are gonna look so good, all swollen, f-fuck." A few lazy thrusts and Felix came inside of you. He kept thrusting on you for a while until you milked him out. He laid by your side, trying to catch his breath. Felix put his arm on his face, hiding it. He looked completely flustered. "I'm sorry, Y/N. It was way too soon for me to let out this embarrassing kinky stuff." "Felix, shut up. It was fucking hot," you smiled, turning around to hug him and rest your head on his chest. He played with your hair, the warmth of his skin making you fall asleep. But sleeping wasn't on Felix's plans. "Ready for round two?"

[bitsandbobsofwriting]

A rogue Druid’s “please join us” speech to Merlin triggers a few things:

Gwaine tries to commit regicide, Leon confronts his (understandable) fear of Dragons, and Merlin has a full on mental breakdown.

The knights are left to pick up the pieces and all of them consider following Gwaine’s lead.

ANGSTY ANGSTY 

TW: Blood, death, nightmares. Physical and verbal abuse. A very brief implication of potential suicide/self harm.

Everyone notices the sudden changes within the group, it would be hard not to notice.

No one has any clue what happened though.

One day, everything is fine. If they think back, they realise Merlin had seemed a little... nervous? Maybe? But other than that, everything was fine, normal.

But the next day? From then until now, a month later? Everything was different.

Arthur seemed much angrier. He flew off the handle over the smallest mistakes, he worked the knights so hard in training that at least three of them had to go to Gaius for treatment everyday, and he didn’t seem like he planned on letting up any time soon. He snapped at everyone, even Gwen and Gaius, which was unheard of.

Merlin seemed... quieter. The knights, Gwen, and Gaius barely saw him, but when they did, he flinched at even the slightest noise; his eyes constantly darted around, looking for a way to escape, and he wouldn’t let anyone touch him.

They were worried, but Arthur was so constantly furious that no one dared bring it up with him, and the one time they tried to ask Merlin, he came up with some ridiculous excuse and ran away. They thought they had barely seen him before, but after that they didn’t see him at all for at least four days.

They also noticed how both of their worrying moods seemed ten times worse when they were with each other. Even just being in the same room, made Arthur angrier, and Merlin... they didn’t want to think it but... more scared.

After three weeks of this, they gathered together, and put into place their emergency plan. Leon would speak directly to Arthur, and Lancelot would speak directly to Merlin.

Of all of them, they were the most trusted by each target, and were the most likely to get answers, and the least likely to get a bad reaction if answers were refused.

They were... pretty wrong. Merlin reacted in the same way as he had to the group two and a half weeks ago. Which is odd, because he normally tells Lancelot everything, and not only did he not tell him, he lied and came up with excuses.

Leon was much worse for wear. He showed up a while after Lancelot, pale and miserable. Arthur had just yelled at him a bunch and assigned him extra patrols.

A few days later, they were all still struggling with what to do when Arthur informed them of a quest that was to be undertaken. They were... nervous, to say the least. Going on any sort of dangerous trip with Arthur in this state was bound to go badly, but they could hardly refuse, and they definitely couldn’t bring up the issue again.

So they resigned themselves to it. Gwen wished them luck, and made sure to give Merlin an extra tight hug before they left, and Gaius slipped a few extra medical supplies in each of the knights packs, just in case.

Apparently, patrols of Camelot Knights kept going missing. Whole groups of soldiers, in one very specific area near the border, were just not coming back.

Arthur could hardly justify sending more patrols out, so despite his foul mood, and his desperation to stay away from everyone, he took himself, his five best knights, and his manservant.

Elyan could’ve sworn he heard Arthur mutter something along the lines of “As if I’d leave you here unsupervised.”, to Merlin, the tone far less jesting that it might’ve been a month ago, but he kept it to himself. They were travelling and camping together, there would hardly be an opportunity to share without Arthur and Merlin there.

And like they were all expecting, the trip was hell.

Awkward silences that not even Gwaine could fill, Merlin looking close to tears the whole time, and Arthur constantly looking like he’s considering extreme violence.

Merlin even rides at the back of the group (unheard of), doesn’t complain even once about anything (even more unheard of), and the few times he does speak, he addresses all of them by their titles (down-right panic inducing).

They, of course, realise it had been a trap far too late, and before they even had time to shout and draw their swords, the camp fades around them.

~

When they wake an indiscernible amount of time later, they have been stripped of armour and weapons, and have been shackled.

They appear to be in a circular, one-room hut, the knights spaced equally and chained to the wall. Their cloaks remain, but any chainmail or armour they had been equipped with was gone, leaving them in the thin clothes they wore underneath, completely unprotected.

Merlin stood in the middle of the room, looking very confused. Once he noticed the knights stirring, he tried to take a step towards them, but frowned when he realised he couldn’t get within a arm’s reach of them.

Once the knights came around fully, they realised that whilst Merlin couldn’t move all that much, they couldn’t speak.

Arthur looks to Merlin with fury written all over his face, and pulls violently on his chains. Merlin flinches back and gasps out:

“This has nothing to do with me, I swear!”

Before the rest of the knights have time to change their expressions to one of confusion, a man walks through the door. Everyone’s gazes turn to him quickly, and they take in his appearance.

He looked like a Druid... but not quite right, like he hadn’t actually been to a camp in a while. He wore neutral colours, browns and greens, but despite his calm demeanour and gentle face, he looked a little crazed.

Where Druids stand calmly and walk softly, this man rushed in and fiddled with his hands, eyes darting around the room at everyone’s faces.

When Merlin goes to demand he introduce himself, the Druid holds a hand up, silencing him (no magic, just a gesture), and begins to speak:

“Who I am, does not matter. But I do know who you are, Emrys. I shall explain it your friends first, so they don’t get too lost.-”

The Druid smiles sadly, and turns to the knights, all of whom (apart from Lancelot) stare on in confusion at the melancholy resignation on the Druid’s face, and the dread on Merlin’s. Still unable to speak, and with very limited movement, they reluctantly resign themselves to listening to whatever speech the villain of the week had come up with.

“-Emrys has been being seen in prophetic visions for centuries. Whilst Uther Pendragon was destined to start the purge, Emrys, or as you know him: Merlin, is destined to stop it. He is said to be the most powerful Warlock to ever walk the earth, past present and future. He can bend the very elements of the world, bring down armies, turn cities to ash with a flick of his wrist. But destiny also foretold of The Once and Future King. Most have accepted that Arthur Pendragon, is said king.-”

Merlin was stiff but panicky during the Druid’s explanation, having realised that for whatever reason, he didn’t have access to his magic right now.

He could feel it buzzing under his skin, but every time he tried to pull it forward, it abandoned him, burrowing deep into his soul and hiding.

Merlin was tense and angry, angry that the chance to tell his friends the truth himself had been taken away, but his statue-like stillness is broken as he frowns and flinches slightly at the thinly veiled disgust in the sorcerer’s voice as he says Arthur’s name.

The Knights look confused, and very much shocked, their gazes flickering between the Druid and Merlin, but he refuses to meet their eyes.

“-Together, Emrys and the Forever King are destined to bring harmony and peace to the world, to restore magic’s place alongside the non magic, to inspire compassion, and stop the unjust genocide that Uther started.-”

Arthur and Leon shuffle uncomfortably at the mention of the late King and his sins, but are more focused on the other shocking revelations. The other knights (again, bar Lancelot, who is staring at Merlin apologetically) seem invested in the story, though they’re clearly confused.

Arthur was made aware of Merlin’s magic a few weeks ago, but despite Merlin’s choice to tell him willingly, he had reacted badly, and in his rage, hadn’t allowed Merlin to explain himself. The other knights were, of course, unaware of this, though they quickly put two and two together.

Despite Merlin’s best efforts, Arthur had stayed in the dark about the whole Emrys-prophecy-destiny thing.

The Druid gives each knight a short assessing gaze, seemingly to make sure they were paying attention.

He turns his attention back to Merlin, who is trying very hard to keep his expression blank (and failing) as he listens:

-”And how long have you waited, my friend, for Arthur to play his part in destiny. Ten years, of having the prophecies shoved down your throat by idealists, being told that you have no choice but to serve a man who would see your head on a spike should he know who you truly are. Ten years in the service of a man who has caused you nothing but pain, given you nothing but nightmares.-”

Merlin flinches and looks away. Every magic user in, or even near Camelot shares the same nightmares, all caused by the Pendragon Reign. There’s no need for a discussion about it, no need for a denial. 

“-His father ripped your family apart. He himself stood at the grave of your best friend and told you he was evil, he himself killed the woman you loved-”

Arthur frowns in confusion at this. Merlin had never been in love. But he quickly doubts himself when he hears Merlin gasp quietly, and looks to him to see a tear slip down his cheek. 

Fury flashes quickly across Lancelot’s face, obviously knowing the story, but he covers it quickly, and no one is the wiser to the anger slowly growing in his chest at what this so-called Druid was putting his friend through.

The Druid speaks his next words quietly, though still loud enough for everyone in the room to hear, as he lifts a soft hand and gently wipes away Merlin’s tear:

“-I know what you see when you close your eyes. I know why you are so exhausted. But do they? Have you told them?-”

The Druid nods his head in the direction of the knights, but doesn’t break eye contact with Merlin, who sniffles slightly before looking to the floor in shame. 

“-Of the smoke and flames that you choke on when you sleep? You dream of pyres built just for you, built by the people you care most about. Even when you are awake, every second you have your eyes closed, every time you blink, you are forced to picture your so-called King with a sword at your throat, as if the scene were painted onto the back of your eyelids.-”

His voice had risen as he spoke and he had begun to pace, anger growing at the pain his Lord had gone through. He practically spits the word “King”, like just saying it disgusts him. 

Merlin remains quiet, but he has a steady stream of tears down his face as he looks back at the Druid with despair. The knights watch on in anguish as they see the way he is suffering. 

Arthur stops feeling angry and confused, and starts to feel a little guilty. Not that he would let it show; he stares on blankly.

Everyone wanted desperately to believe that the Druid was lying, manipulating them, that Merlin would deny it. But he didn’t. And that told them all they needed to know.

The Druid stopped his pacing, coming to a stand still in front of Merlin and cupping one of his cheeks softly with his hand. The knights pretend not to see Merlin lean into it slightly as his tears continue to fall.

The Druid begins again, speaking softly once more:

“-Were those fears unfounded? Were those nightmares irrational? I see the terror in your eyes. I see how petrified of your King you are.-”

Merlin lets out a shaky breath and glances quickly to Arthur, before looking back at the man in front of him.

The King is taken aback, and the knights are furious at the flash of fear on Merlin’s face when his gaze had momentarily met Arthur’s.

“-What did he do, when he found out? When you bared your soul and gave him nothing but honesty, and undeserved apologies. What did he do?-”

Merlin lets out his first audible sob, and the Knights pull at their chains slightly, desperate to comfort their friend. Arthur slumps back, remembering his actions as if they were mere hours ago.

One of Merlin’s hands lifted to cover his mouth as he chokes back a second sob, but the other lifts subconsciously to tug at the scarf around his neck.

The Druid lets a single tear escape his eye as he waves his hand gently, the scarf disappearing with the gentle golden glow of his eyes.

Merlin seems too distraught to notice; and moves both hands to clamp tightly over his mouth as tears stream down his face. His shoulders hunch, but not enough for any of the knights to miss what the Druid had clearly been trying to expose; a thin, barely healed scar along the base of his throat. As if a sword had been pressed there.

The Druid’s eyes lose focus slightly and he frowns as he ghosts a finger over the scar, seemingly asking the next question to himself:

“-Nightmares on the back of your eyelids, or visions of the future, hmm?-”

His eyes refocus, and he cards a hand through Merlin’s hair, trying to calm the man’s heartache as the knights stare on in horror. 

Arthur resists the urge to look towards his knights, not wanting to see the disgusted glares he knows they’re sending his way.

The Druid pauses for a moment in his speech, waiting for Merlin to calm slightly before he quietly continued:

“-And what has he done since then? Has he allowed explanation? Has he seen the error of his ways and tried to understand? Or has he called you a liar, and a traitor. Has he called you a monster, whilst demanding that you continue to serve him?-”

Merlin’s breathing grows deeper as he struggles to control his sobs. He lowers his hands to be clenched at his sides, shaking, as the Druid softly places his hands on his shoulders.

His next words are spoken even quieter, though the knights can still hear him and the deadly anger that’s barely concealed in the man’s tone:

“-Has he laid hands on you, and called you a beast, while you cowered in fear, knowing that if you defended yourself he would see himself proven right?-”

Merlin let’s out loud, gasping sobs once more as the Druid’s hands travel softly down, from his shoulders to his wrists. There, he looks down, sorrow on his face as he carefully lifts Merlin’s sleeves, bunching them around his elbows.

The knights decide then and there they are going to protect Merlin no matter what, no matter from whom, as they each see the handprint shaped bruises littering Merlin’s arms.

“-He has hurt you, over and over and over-”

As he speaks, the Druid hovers his hands over the bruises, his eyes glowing softly golden as they heal.

“-And you despair, believing yourself worthless-”

Merlin flinches, and his sobbing grows more intense as his face is taken in soft hands.

“-waiting on a Golden Age that he refuses to bring. He is cruel, and unjust, how many more times must he hurt you? How many more of our people will the Pendragon line slaughter, out of misguided hatred? How much more sleep must you lose? How many more nightmares must you endure? You have stood loyally by his side for a decade, and had to stand and watch as he continued his father’s legacy, forced to believe it was destiny.-”

The Druid says “destiny” as if he hates the taste of the word in his mouth, the bloodshed of the past almost thirty years clearly having made him lose faith in the prophecies.

Merlin’s breathing has calmed slightly, and the knights aren’t sure whether to be relieved or frightened, as the Druid desperately continues, clutching Merlin’s hands in his own:

“-Too many lives have been lost, too much innocent blood spilt. Haven’t you yourself been forced to kill your own people to protect this False King from the consequences of his own actions?-”

The knights think too soon as Merlin’s breathing and sobs grow erratic once more. The manservant almost falls to the floor, his eyes clenched desperately shut, and only the Druids hands on his shoulders keeping him upright:

“-I was young, and naïve once. I too, believed in Arthur Pendragon, I believed in the prophecies, I believed he would a great king and a good man-”

He leans forward, pressing his forehead to Merlin’s as he gently says:

“-but he is not. He has failed you, and failed our people.-”

The Druid steps back, but still holds Merlin’s shoulder tightly as he gives him a pleading look.

The knights know what’s coming before it is said, and with the anguish and desperation and grief on their friend’s face? After they learned what their benevolent King had done? Well... they wouldn’t have blamed Merlin for saying yes.

“-I ask you to join me, Emrys. I know it’s difficult, to give up on a man you gave so much of yourself to, but there is too much Uther in him. It’s time, and you know this, to rewrite destiny. Dig your own path, liberate your own people, bring magic and compassion and harmony back to the world yourself.-”

Merlin, though distraught, still looks doubtful, and the knights hold their breath as the Druid continues, becoming more and more furious at their inability to speak. 

All of them have tears in their eyes, if not falling already, even Arthur, though he has remained still and blank through the tears.

“-I know the flames you fear, the sword’s edge, the gallows’ drop, the axe’s fall. Do not let our kin continue to fear those things, do not stand by, waiting for the Pendragon tyrant to change, and allowing sacrifices to be made in the mean time.-”

Merlin’s sobbing begins again, and the Druid kisses him softly on the forehead before kneeling to the floor, gripping Merlin’s hands and looking up at him desperately:

"-You are Emrys, Lord of the Druids, and Conduit for all magic of this world. Not some servant that an entitled brat can toss around and treat lesser than the dirt he walks on. You are my King, our King. Not him.-”

He stands again and grips Merlin’s arms tightly, most likely leaving more bruises in place of the ones he had healed.

Merlin doesn’t notice the pain, but shakes his head stutteringly, still crying.

“-Do not let your people lose you to Arthur, as Arthur lost himself to Uther. To give up on him is painful, but the screams of your kin, burning for their gifts, echoing in your skull day and night?-”

The Druid’s hands move up to grip the sides of Merlin’s head, and he shakes him ever so slightly, his tone frantic and pleading:

“-That is worse. That is pain he will never understand, and certainly never care for. Join me, please my Lord I beg you, for our people.”

One of the Druid’s hands slides lower, to softly cup Merlin’s cheek again, but the other drops entirely.

The knights have never resented being magically gagged more than in this moment. They could do nothing but watch on in horror as the man summons a dagger behind his back.

The Druid is clearly waiting on his response, and Merlin is too distraught to notice the consequences of a wrong answer, tears flowing quickly down his face and ugly sobs forcing their way out of his throat.

Arthur watches in terror, knowing that this was his fault, that every shitty, selfish decision he had ever made had to led to this point. And the knights knew it too.

All they can do is pray to every deity they know the name of, that Arthur has done enough damage for Merlin to say yes. And oh, what a terrible thing to pray for.

The Druid softly strokes Merlin’s cheekbone with his thumb as the Warlock takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself. He looks up, meeting the gaze of the man opposite him before croaking:

“I... I can’t. Arthur is a good man, I have faith that he will-”

Before he can finish his sentence, the dagger is thrust up into his chest, his words stuttering to a stop and his red-rimmed eyes growing wide at the sudden, agonising pain spreading throughout his body.

Merlin is vaguely aware of the knights pulling roughly at their chains, but he pays them no mind as blood gurgles up his throat and he frowns, struggling to hear what the Druid was whispering in his ear:

“Then you have forsaken your people, and so I shall forsake you. Traitor.”

With that, Merlin is dropped roughly to the floor, dagger still imbedded in his chest as he lands on his side. Blood spills from both his mouth and the wound, eyes unfocused but heavy as the tears continue to overflow.

The knights are silently screaming, thrashing against their chains as their friend chokes, but Merlin ignores them in favour of smiling gently at the soft feeling of nothing, growing outwards from his chest.

He frowns once more, as though remembering something, and his eyes go glassy as two words escape from his mouth, barely a whisper:

“I’m... sorry...”

An apology to whom, no one knows, but with those last words his body goes completely still, the pool of blood still expanding beneath him, and his eyes unseeingly staring just to the left of The King.

No one in the room can tear their eyes from Merlin’s pale corpse, face now a mess of tears and blood.

The Druid looks down at him with an odd mix of contempt, and genuine sorrow. He had obviously waited long enough that his resentment of Arthur had bled into his feelings for his so-called saviour, but still grieved for what could have been.

The Knights look at him in horror, all understanding that they had never been lucky, they had just had Merlin. He had never asked for thanks, or recognition, or reward. He had kept them all safe, at great expense to himself, and now he was dead.

Lancelot seems the... calmest, though he still cries like the rest of them. He had, in theory, known of the pain Merlin was in, but had he known it was plaguing him to this extent... well perhaps he wouldn’t have been so loyal to Arthur.

Arthur himself stares at Merlin with nothing but terror and agonising grief. He had done this. If he had just let Merlin explain, if he had just given him five minutes, instead of bruises and nightmares and fear, then he would still be alive. 

If he hadn’t been so selfish and cruel, perhaps hundreds of people, just like Merlin, just as scared and innocent as Merlin, would also be alive. 

Merlin had spent his entire time in Camelot trying to convince Arthur that he wasn’t his father... and Arthur had gone and proven him wrong at every turn. And even then Merlin still had faith, still called him a good man.

The silencing spell still has hold over the knights, so they cry and scream and thrash soundlessly as the Druid finally rips his gaze from the body at his feet.

He steps carefully around Merlin to stand in front of Arthur. The sorrow clears from his face, leaving only contempt and rage left to be directed at the man in front of him. Arthur does not look up, keeping his tear stained face focused on the floor, even as the Druid begins to speak:

“You see what you have done, Arthur Pendragon? You think magic is the thing that corrupts, but it is not. It is you. Emrys was meant to be a saviour, a God, a guiding light to help our people to safety, but you tainted him, reduced him to nothing more than a sad, scared boy, and then reduced him further, to a corpse. My hands are clean of blood Pendragon, but yours?? Oh, yours are drenched in it.”

Arthur slowly lifts his distraught gaze to the Druid, but quickly widens his eyes at what he sees.

Merlin stands behind the Druid, eyes glowing golden, tears once more streaming down his face as he grips the handle of the dagger, still buried in his chest.

The bloodstains grow even larger as he grimaces slightly and pulls it free, before wordlessly forcing it through the Druid’s back.

The man lets out a sudden gasp, and looks down to see just the tip of the blade poking out where his heart should be. He gargles something, words that no one can make out, before Merlin pulls the dagger out again, and his body crumples to the floor.

The knights and Arthur can feel the silencing spell release them, but none of them make even a noise as they stare in shock at their tormented, but very much alive, friend.

Merlin drops the dagger from his hand and it lands with a splash in the mixing puddles of blood, before he himself falls harshly to his knees.

The others finally break out of their stupor, once again pulling towards their friend. Their cries and shouts of his name can be heard by everyone but him as he leans forward, placing his forehead against that of the lifeless Druid.

His cries grow erratic again as he whispers apology after apology, and every heart breaks even more at the sight before them.

They know why he apologises, they know why he grieves, even over a man who had tried to... had succeeded in killing him. The death of yet another of his own kind who was sick of waiting, who was rightfully angry, was not something to be celebrated.

They had thought, at the beginning of this, that they would get through whatever the Druid threw at them, they always did. But this, the brokenness of one of their dearest friends, was not something that looks fixable.

Merlin finally sits up again and he sobs louder, still deaf and blind to those around him. Lancelot has just enough time to yell at the others to cover their eyes, as a gut-wrenching scream escapes the Warlock.

They’re almost blinded, even with their eyes tightly shut and their arms thrown up. The scream is the loudest, and most anguished they’ve ever heard, and the force in which Merlin releases his magic completely eviscerates the hut they had been chained in.

Each of them is thrown violently backwards, and their chains crumble to the floor with the rest of the building as they try to find purchase on the ground. None of them are hurt too badly, and they’re grateful for the fact that even in this state, Merlin’s magic seems incapable of really causing them any damage.

The scream ends, and the knights look up to see Merlin sat in the middle of the crater he had created, staring blankly into the middle distance. Tears still stream down his face, but he doesn’t move and he makes no sound, just kneels there with his blood soaked hands on his lap, palms towards the sky.

It takes a few moments for the knights to regain their senses, but once they do, all hell breaks loose.

Gwaine immediately gets to his feet and makes a rush towards Arthur, fully intending on throttling him, screaming obscenities as he went, but Percival and Elyan jump forward, grabbing an arm each and dragging him away as he curses the King and the Sky and the Gods.

As much as Percival and Elyan were not impartial to killing Arthur right now, Merlin was the priority, and as much as he may have deserved it, Merlin would never forgive them if they hurt the King.

Arthur seems to be unaware of the attempt on his life made by one of his most trusted knights, and just stares blankly at an equally blank Merlin.

Lancelot and Leon make a bee-line for the Warlock, but stop just short of touching him, not knowing how he would react. 

Leon nods gently at Lancelot, clearly having picked up that this knight had already known at least part of the story. Lancelot returns his nod, before moving forward slowly. The body of the Druid lays untouched at Merlin’s knees, and the knight removes his cloak, laying it over him, before reaching a slow hand towards Merlin’s shoulder.

He finally makes contact after a little hesitation, whispering his name as gently and as comfortingly as he is able with tears still leaking from his eyes.

Merlin doesn’t react at all to Lancelot’s touch, not even when he takes his bloody hand, or shakes his shoulder slightly; just sits and stares and cries.

Leon gulps before reaching forward himself. He grabs the dagger from besides Merlin and tosses it behind him (he didn’t like to think about that action too much. He has no idea what state his friend is in right now, best to not have any sharp instruments within his reach when he came to.) before lifting his hand to wipe away the man’s tears.

Arthur stares upon all of this in horror from his position sprawled on the floor a few metres away.

Elyan and Percival have just about managed to calm Gwaine, and they begin making their way to Leon, Lancelot, and Merlin, but before they get even halfway there, Arthur finally speaks.

His voice breaks, and is barely audible, but everyone hears him nonetheless as he murmurs:

“I did this...”

Gwaine makes another run at him, regaining his anger, and Percival and Elyan just about manage to grab him before he commits regicide.

Lancelot and Leon look up at him sharply, but when Lancelot lowers his gaze and continues to try and rouse Merlin, Leon holds the King’s gaze, and says strongly:

“Yes. Yes you did, My Lord.”

Arthur’s face crumbles even more, and Leon glares at him with venom for a few more seconds, before giving Lancelot a soft pat on the back, and walking towards the other three.

He mumbles a few harsh things that only Gwaine can hear, who responds at first with more anger, but then resignation. The First Knight gives the man a pat on the back and nods knowingly at Elyan and Percival. No one, not even Gwaine, pretends to miss the meaning of “be ready to catch him again” in the gesture.

Arthur stays in his position on the floor as the four of them walk softly towards Merlin and Lancelot, but before they get there, everyone’s gazes are drawn to the shadow in the sky, getting closer and closer.

It moves with an alarming place, and their anger at Arthur is momentarily forgotten as he scrambles up and screams:

“DRAGON!!”

Gwaine, Elyan, Percival and Arthur rush forward to stand between the beast and the other three. They have no armour or weapons, but like hell were they just going to let it get to them.

Lancelot looks up to see the white, horse sized beast land heavily in front of The King, his eyes widen and he jumps up, rushing forward to push between the others.

Leon moves to hold a still unresponsive Merlin behind his back protectively, but frowns in confusion when Lancelot yells at Arthur (who had been about to run at the beast):

“NO! No don’t hurt her! She’s Merlin’s, don’t hurt her!”

Everyone looks at him in confusion and fear as he slowly approaches the Dragon, she had been growling lowly at first, but seemed to perk up when she saw Lancelot.

Lancelot gives her a small smile, and holds his hand out, allowing her to come to him, before quietly saying:

“I’ve never been more glad to see you, Aithusa. Merlin is over here.”

He turns back towards the others, and calmly, but forcefully says:

“Move. She needs to see him.”

Gwaine nods after a moment, trusting Lancelot, and moves out of the way. Arthur goes to argue, but Elyan and Percival roughly shove him to the side, clearing a path to Merlin and Leon for Lancelot and the new, slightly terrifying, arrival.

Leon looks up fearfully, still in front of Merlin protectively. He stares at the Dragon for a few moments, breathing deeply, before looking up at Lancelot. Lancelot gives him a weak smile, and a nod before saying quietly:

“He’s a Dragon-Lord. She can help him, it’s ok.”

Leon gulps, before nodding, and stepping out of the way. He doesn’t move too far, obviously still affected by his last encounter with a Dragon, and watches with unconcealed suspicion as Aithusa prances around Lancelot at his nod.

The others crowd closer as well, looking on in confusion, awe, suspicion, as Aithusa slowly approaches Merlin.

She lays down at his side, gently pressing her head onto Merlin’s hands, still in his lap. Her mouth opens and Leon gasps as she blows a gentle mist up into his face. Merlin’s back straightens and the knights can see his eyes come back into focus as he blinks.

They all stare with bated breath as he gulps, and begins to notice his surroundings; looking in fear at the crater around him.

Merlin is broken from his growing panic as Aithusa chirps softly from his lap, and his head whips down, only now noticing her.

The knights let out a collective breath as he smiles, very slightly and very briefly, but still; after what they had just seen him go through they would take anything. He leans his head down, and wraps his arms around the creature. She chirps once again, louder this time, as she uses her tail to push away the forgotten Druid’s corpse. 

She curls her body around Merlin protectively, and he collapses even further into the semi-embrace she’s giving him. The knights smile slightly, relieved that Merlin seems responsive, and safe, before they take slow steps towards the two of them.

She whips her head up quickly and growls at them, digging her front claws into the ground. They take in sudden breaths and stop moving, wary, but she stops growling when she looks to Lancelot.

The others stare on in shock and confusion as she tilts her head slightly, and Lancelot nods as he quietly says:

“They’re friends, it’s ok.”

The creature seems to nod, and the others follow behind Lancelot as he begins moving towards Merlin again.

He crouches down, and gives Aithusa a well-received scratch on the chin, before he gently places a hand between Merlin’s shoulder-blades.

Percival, Elyan, Gwaine, and finally Leon follow suit, sitting carefully next to the Dragon, but unlike Lancelot, they don’t touch her, or Merlin. She may seem safe and loving and on their side, but she was still a Dragon.

Arthur moves a little slower, not sure if he’s welcome (he’s not) but when he gets within five feet of the group huddled on the floor, Aithusa lifts her head and growls again.

Elyan and Percival are shocked at the sudden movement, but Gwaine smirks, and Leon nods his head approvingly (though he’s still understandably... nervous). Lancelot looks back at a shocked and still tear-stricken Arthur, and speaks. His voice is quiet, but his tone is vicious:

“They have a mental link; she sees what he sees. It might be best, Your Majesty, for you to stay away.”

He doesn’t bother to watch Arthur’s reaction; he turns back and begins carding a soft hand through Merlin’s hair. He flinches only slightly before relaxing under the soft ministrations, and Aithusa gives Lancelot an affectionate lick on the arm.

The other knights do see the way that Arthur flinches, before he gives a shaky nod and takes a few steps back. He goes to say something, but the tears in his eyes overflow, and he turns to walk away.

Gwaine’s smirk grows slightly before he drops it entirely and turns back to the others, no longer caring what Arthur got up to. He is the first of the knights, other than Lancelot, to be brave enough to reach a hand forward and stroke Aithusa gently.

Elyan and Percival hesitatingly follow his lead, and Aithusa chirps happily at the attention. Leon’s gaze follows Arthur as he walks towards the horses.

They were far away, well out of the way of Merlin’s blast, but even with the distance Leon could see they were shaken. Thankfully they had been tied to the trees, otherwise he’s certain they would have bolted.

Leon finds it only slightly surprising that he feels no sympathy for the King. There’s only so much you can forgive a man for. When Arthur finally reaches the horses and begins untacking them, he looks away, back to Aithusa and Merlin.

Everyone can tell that Camelot’s First Knight is still rather shaken at the presence of the Dragon, but when Merlin looks up slightly to see him still sat there, unwilling to leave him, his heart swells a little.

Leon meets his gaze and gulps, but returns Merlin’s shaky smile.

The other knights smile as well, glad that Merlin was feeling at least a little better, and Percival speaks quietly, not wanting to spook him (or the Dragon):

“Hey, there’s our lucky charm.”

The other knights give him questioning looks but Merlin just chuckles slightly, before sitting up properly, and focusing his attention on running his fingers over Aithusa’s scales, picking out grass and mud.

Percival looks indignant before replying, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world:

“What? You honestly thought that tree branches only fell if there was a fight happening, and then only fell on the enemies?? The rock-falls? The fires even when it was pouring with rain?? The miraculous solutions to end-of-the-world type problems?? Come on, guys.”

The others look taken aback at that, but Lancelot just smiles knowingly. They all look to Merlin, who has managed to wipe the blood from his face with his sleeve, and he just shrugs slightly.

The rest of them, bar Leon, let out small huffs of laughter, and continue to stroke Aithusa, knowing that Merlin almost certainly isn’t ready for an actual conversation yet.

Merlin looks at Leon’s pale form assessingly, before a look of realisation crosses his face. The knight is tense, and staring at Aithusa’s sharp teeth with worry, but his gaze is quickly drawn to Merlin when he reaches a shaky hand towards him.

Merlin gives him an understanding smile, and crooks his fingers, encouraging the curly-haired knight to take his hand. Leon does so, and his breath hitches as Merlin lowers their intertwined hand to rest on the top of Aithusa’s head.

Leon lets out a slow breath as he feels Elyan’s supportive hand on his back, but relaxes fully when he sees the sparkle in Merlin’s eyes. Anything to make their Warlock happy in this moment. And forever, probably.

Gwaine looks at Leon out of the corner of his eye, and says lowly:

“I’m fairly certain I’m going to try and kill him if I look at him again, so what’s the King up to?”

Merlin tenses slightly, but Leon squeezes his hand and he relaxes again. Lancelot raises and eyebrow and before Leon can reply, he says:

“What, no princess?”

Gwaine narrows his eyes before gruffly saying:

“Princess was an affectionate nickname, and I’m not feeling all that affectionate towards him right now.”

The others nod knowingly, turning their attention back to Merlin and Aithusa. Leon leaves his hand in Merlin’s, but looks at Gwaine before saying lowly:

“He went to deal with the horses. Now we know we no longer need a quick get-away, they need untacking and feeding and watering. They were pretty spooked by... they were pretty spooked.”

Leon looks back at Merlin when his hand gets squeezed, to see him frowning slightly. Leon catches his eye and gives him a small smile, but Merlin just gets teary-eyed again, before sniffing and muttering:

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to I just... I’m sorry.”

Only a single tear has time to fall before Lancelot has his hand on Merlin’s shoulder again (comfortingly), and Elyan has his hand on Gwaine’s shoulder (forcefully). Leon shakes his head softly, and responds in a gentle voice:

“You don’t have anything to apologise for Merlin, we are the ones who should be sorry, for not being able to protect you.”

Merlin’s frown deepens, and he goes to retort, but Gwaine beats him to it, obviously trying to keep the anger out of his voice:

“From the so-called Druid and from him. We should have done better.”

Leon can feel Merlin’s hand begin to shake, so he squeezes it once more as Merlin shakes his head and speaks, his voice sounding stronger already:

“It’s not his fault. He was just shaken and scared and I should have-”

Gwaine clenches his jaw, struggling to keep control of his rage, but Elyan grips his shoulder tighter in warning, and replies in his stead, interrupting Merlin:

“There’s no excuse Merlin. All of us have been attacked by magic, but equally, all of us have been attacked by swords. I mean look at Leon, giving Dragons a second chance after what happened. I would perhaps understand brief anger, but there is no way to justify laying his hands on you in such a way that leaves bruises, and certainly no justification for putting a blade to your throat.”

Merlin frowns, and looks like he wants to argue, but once again, a knight beats him to it, Lancelot this time:

“No, Merls. We know how much he means to you. But what he did was wrong, there’s no rationalisation. We all know that you’ve already forgiven him, and that’s why we can’t yet. Probably not for a while.”

Merlin sighs, looking pained, and Leon uses his other hand to tilt his chin up:

“Not to say that we won’t ever forgive him. But someone has to be angry at him for what he’s done, and Lord knows you aren’t gonna do it. Consider us your stand-ins.”

Merlin smiles slightly, and Leon considers that a win, returning the smile and nodding slightly to himself, before looking back down at the Dragon, now seemingly asleep, and purring, on Merlin’s lap.

Elyan releases the death grip on Gwaine’s shoulder, when the now much calmer knight, with a smile on his face, says:

“So... you have a Dragon??”

Merlin chuckles fondly, before looking to him and saying quietly:

“Yeah. Her name is Aithusa. I’m surprised she came alone, Kilgharrah usually doesn’t like it when she runs off.”

Lancelot winces slightly as the other knights look shocked, before Percival says:

“Kil-what-now? There’s another one??”

Merlin grimaces slightly, before looking to Leon worriedly and tightening the grip on his hand:

“Uhh... yeah. Kilgharrah is the name of the Dragon that... attacked Camelot a few years ago.-”

Leon straightens his back and gulps, but doesn’t remove his hand from Merlin’s, nodding at him to continue:

“-I didn’t have control over him until right at the end. I told him to leave and never come back, unless I called him-”

Lancelot makes a noise of realisation as he nods, and interrupts Merlin:

“That’s probably why Aithusa came alone. You didn’t call for her, and technically we’re still within Camelot’s borders. He couldn’t come even if he wanted to. Poor sod is probably clomping around at the edge of the border freaking out.”

Merlin looks to Lancelot and nods, satisfied to feel Leon relax a bit, before looking back to the First Knight apologetically:

“-He does feel really bad at that. He just wanted to get back at Uther for the whole... genocide thing I guess. But that’s no excuse. I just didn’t want to be the one to be responsible for killing the last Dragon, even if Kilgharrah personally might’ve deserved it at the time. That was all before Aithusa came along.”

Everyone nods in understanding, before focussing their attention back on Aithusa. She really was like a giant puppy, even if they had to be wary to avoid her claws as she twitched in her sleep.

Merlin sighs, looking forlorn once again as he realises how exhausted he is, knowing that they’re going to have to get up and make camp at some point. 

He can cope with an awkward, tense silence between him and Arthur easily enough, that’s what the last few weeks had consisted of. But an awkward and tense silence between everyone? Elyan and Percival inwardly fuming? Gwaine outwardly fuming? Leon and Lancelot being all protective? He’s not sure he can deal with that.

At Merlin’s sigh, Lancelot tilts his head to catch his eye. His brow creases as he says softly:

“What is it, Merls?”

Merlin looks up, still squeezing Leon’s hand, before quietly replying:

“Nothing, I’m just tired. We have to re-make camp at some point and I’m not sure if I can deal with everyone being so...”

He waves his free hand around loosely, and Lancelot huffs out a laugh, before kicking Gwaine, getting everyone’s attention:

“We have to go make camp. But Merlin is exhausted, and doesn’t want to deal with any of this shit tonight, so we’re all going to have to play nice for the time being.”

Gwaine growls, and quickly retorts:

“Like hell am I gonna treat him with-”

Lancelot kicks him again, harder this time, and Elyan replaces the harsh hand on his shoulder before forcefully saying:

“Right now, it doesn’t matter what Arthur deserves. Merlin needs peace and quiet, and that’s what we’re going to give him.”

Gwaine grumbles, but begrudgingly nods, and Merlin gives him a grateful smile. 

The knights all stand up, and Merlin shakes Aithusa awake, giving a small chuckle when she stretches like a cat.

Once she takes her weight off of his lap, Merlin follows the knights to stand, almost falling over at the weakness in his legs. Leon and Lancelot catch an arm each, steadying him as he shuts his eyes tightly, willing the dizziness away.

He feels a hand wipe the hair from his forehead, and opens his eyes slowly to see Percival checking him over with an assessing gaze:

“I’m fine, just tired, a little dizzy.”

Lancelot nods in understanding, humming slightly:

“Hmm. I’m not surprised, you haven’t done anything this big in a while, and I doubt you’ve slept well in the last few weeks.”

Merlin gives him a sheepish look as he shakes his head, but it’s Elyan’s questioning gaze that Lancelot responds to:

“I found out by accident when I first met him. Our Warlock isn’t very good at keeping secrets.”

He says it with a small smirk as he looks back down to Merlin, who’s looking indignant:

“Hey! I managed to keep everyone else from finding out.”

Gwaine looks guilty as he raises his arm quietly:

“Actually uh... I knew. I mean not about the whole Emrys, prophecy thing. But the magic stuff, yeah.”

Merlin looks at him, shocked. The other knights share his expression for just a moment before they laugh at the look on Merlin’s face:

“How?!”

Gwaine puts his arm down and laughs again:

“Mate... we met in the middle of a tavern fight, in which shit started literally flying about the moment you joined in.-”

He shrugged, before casually continuing:

“-I figured you would tell me when you wanted to. Until then, it wasn’t my secret to know. You also have me to thank for backing you up every time The Prick asked if I saw you at the tavern.”

Merlin laughed and nodded his thanks, before looking over to where said Prick was setting up camp, a few metres beyond the edge of the crater.

His face fell slightly and the others follow his gaze, tensing slightly in anger when they saw what he was looking at. Merlin takes his arms from Leon and Lancelot, finally feeling steady on his feet, before quietly saying:

“Come on, we might as well get this over with. I’m starving, and tired, and Aithusa will get bored if we don’t start entertaining her.”

Everyone turns around to see Aithusa (now she was sure that her Lord was ok), prancing about in the crater; chasing birds and digging holes.

Merlin raises an eyebrow and everyone else chuckles slightly. Gwaine pushes Lancelot out of the way and takes Merlin’s hand, beginning to walk determinedly towards camp. Everyone catches up quickly, Leon taking Merlin’s other hand when the man had reached out to grab his cape.

Gwaine looks down at Merlin, seeing how nervous he is, and says:

“So. How long until she’s big enough to be ridden? I want you to take me flying, Merlin.”

Merlin chuckles, and looks back to see Aithusa happily trailing them:

“Not for a while. Dragons grow slow, so it’ll be another few years at least. Plus she’s got some issues with bone growth that we’re still trying to fix. She’ll be fine in the long run, but her development is taking a lot longer than normal. She still can’t speak.”

Everyone stops at that, and Merlin’s arms get yanked back when he continued walking. He turns to see Leon giving him an incredulous look:

“Dragons can speak?!”

Merlin tilts his head in confusion, before laughing and tugging them forwards again:

“Yeah. I forget that Uther basically erased all knowledge on Dragons, but they’re just as intelligent as we are. Kilgharrah would like to think that they’re more intelligent, but he’s always been a cryptic, egotistical bastard.-”

The others follow his pace and nod, but the mood darkens as they almost reach the camp. Merlin continues faintly, but quickly:

“I’ll tell you everything I know when... when we get back.”

Leon squeezes his hand, knowing that he was about to say “if”, assuring him that “when” is the right word.

Arthur looks up at the group and gulps from his place next to the fire. He straightens up, the anxiety showing clearly on his face, but before anyone can say anything, Aithusa jumps in between him.

He falls back at the sudden movement and she begins to growl; he widens his eyes as she stalks slowly towards him.

Gwaine smirks again, the others managing to keep their faces blank, but Merlin looks shocked, before he jumps forward and puts a hand on the Dragon’s back:

“Aithusa no. He’s a... friend. It’s ok, he’s-”

Arthur jumps to his feet and interrupts him:

“No, no it’s fine. I’ll... go... sit over there.”

He gestures behind him, and walks quickly away from the fire, sitting just within the fire’s light, the evening dimming around them.

Aithusa tilts her head, snaps her jaws at him once more before completely changing disposition. She begins bouncing around the fire, chirping happily and playfully trying to catch floating embers in her claws.

Merlin smiles slightly and the other knights (bar Gwaine, who is glaring very pointedly at Arthur) chuckle at her antics, before they all sit in a semi circle on the opposite side of the fire to Arthur, Merlin in the middle.

The Warlock is once again wedged protectively between Leon and Gwaine, and he fiddles softly with Leon’s cape in his lap as he stares fondly at Aithusa.

Elyan moves to the packs, unloading food and water and cooking pots. Merlin gets up to help, but Gwaine pulls him back down by the hand and holds on firmly as he says:

“You’ve been through enough. We can put up with Elyan’s shitty cooking for a couple nights.”

Merlin tries to pull away with a “But I can-” but Leon grabs his other hand, holding him down and interrupting:

“Absolutely not. You said yourself that you’re tired. If Elyan needs help, he can ask one of us.”

Merlin huffs sulkily and Leon laughs, stroking the back of his hand protectively.

Leon had known Merlin just as long as Arthur had, and whilst they had virtually nothing to do with each other the first few years, they were still friendly acquaintances, even then. Leon knew full well that it was Merlin who would have a hot meal left in his room after a late patrol, and Merlin always appreciated how Leon kept as many weapons in the armoury in as good nick as possible, so Merlin didn’t have to deal with it.

Besides, even before they knew each other’s names, Leon always found Merlin’s reactions to Arthur’s stupidity funny. He could hardly say it out loud, being the Perfect Knight and all, but he always thought it was a good thing that Arthur had someone at his side keeping him humble, and calling him out in ways no one else would.

Of course they had gotten much closer over the years, as did all of the knights, thanks to Merlin. Currently, Leon was feeling just a tinge of regret at being so grateful for Merlin’s presence at Arthur’s side; he had never really thought about how difficult being that man’s babysitter would be, especially now he knew Merlin had magic. And some sort of destiny.

Time passes fairly quickly whilst Elyan cooks, the others taking to heart what Lancelot had said and trying to keep a quiet, but easy conversation going.

They ask Merlin various questions about Aithusa, Kilgharrah, the Druids, the weird name that he had been called. He answered them all easily enough, but they notice the way he hesitates when they ask about his magic specifically or the prophecies, so they steer clear of those topics.

They’ll definitely want to know the whole story eventually, and they’re practically buzzing with desperation to ask Merlin to show them something magical, but they know that now is not the time.

Dinner is finally served, and despite Gwaine’s statement, it wasn’t actually that bad. Mainly because every time Elyan went to add something to the pot, he would look back desperately at Merlin, and took into account the shakes and nods of his head with a grateful smile.

He did struggle to cover the scowl on his face when he delivered Arthur’s bowl to him, replying to The King’s quiet “thank you, Elyan” with an even quieter “don’t mention it” .

Dinner was eaten quickly and in silence. They hadn’t been unconscious for long, and hour or two at most, but they had all worked up an understandable appetite, Merlin especially. He would never ask for seconds, but knowing that, Elyan gave him an extra big serving without a word.

They entertained themselves after dinner by throwing the last scraps of meat to Aithusa, watching her jump and flip and fly about the camp. Merlin had objected at first, but gave in when he saw the small grin on Leon’s face, and heard the way the others were laughing. The City was only a few days ride away, they could always hunt on the way back.

It didn’t take long for her to tire out and curl up at Merlin’s feet to sleep. Like Merlin had mentioned, Aithusa was developing slowly, and she normally couldn’t fly very far; it must’ve taken a huge amount of energy and effort for her to get all the way here. But like the Knights, she was very protective, and there was no way she could not check on her Lord, after she and Kilgharrah had felt the anguish he was in.

As Kilgharrah once again crosses Merlin’s mind, he sighs, and makes mental note to call him in the morning, when he had more energy.

Merlin is distracted from his thoughts when the camp goes silent all of a sudden, and Gwaine reaches over to squeeze his hand. He looks up in worry, to see that Arthur had stood, and walked a little closer, though he made sure to stay the other side of the fire.

Merlin tenses slightly. He tries not to let it show, but he can knows that he failed when he feels Leon’s hand firmly in the middle of his back. Hidden from the others, but a silent reassurance.

Arthur gulps, obviously nervous, but he meets Merlin’s gaze, flinching at the slight fear in his eyes:

“Merlin, I know nothing I say will-”

He’s interrupted by Gwaine growling and standing suddenly, stepping in front of Merlin protectively, but it’s Lancelot’s harsh words that cut him off fully:

“Not tonight, Arthur. We’re all tired and angry so just... not tonight.”

Arthur clenches his jaw, and blinks away tears before nodding:

“Yes, I... I understand.”

With that, he sniffles slightly before taking a step back. He looks to the floor as he mumbles something about checking the perimeter, before slowly walking away from the camp, into the night.

Merlin lets out a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding, and relaxes slightly as Leon runs his hand over his back. Gwaine stares after Arthur for a few moments, deliberating on whether or not to follow him (and presumably, kick his ass). Merlin reaching up to take his hand and pull him back down makes his mind up, and he settles back into his seat, Merlin’s small hand clasped between his two larger ones.

Percival speaking up breaks the tense silence:

“It’s late and Lance is right, we’re all tired. If we want to make quick work of the journey home, and have time to hunt, then we should get some sleep.”

Murmurs of agreement float up around the group, and Gwaine, voice still tense and angry, says:

“I’ll take first-”

But he’s quickly interrupted by Elyan, softly laughing:

“Absolutely not, Gwaine. If you’re left alone we’ll all wake to find the King dead in the morning.”

Gwaine raises a challenging eyebrow, not denying anything, and Elyan huffs, Percival muttering:

“Fine. But I’m taking it with you so you don’t get a chance to smother him.”

Gwaine gives a sarcastic looking smile, before ruffling Merlin’s hair fondly and walking towards the fire. He adds another log, grabs his bedroll, and settles down against a tree, Percival sitting at his side.

Everyone else gathers their rolls, and whilst normally they spread out, they all seem rather desperate to stay as close to Merlin as possible.

Normally he would complain, they all snore, and Merlin is definitely expecting nightmares tonight, but he can’t find it in himself to send them away, and to be perfectly honest, he's certain that they would just move back the moment he closed his eyes anyway.

The Warlock finds himself tucked under Lancelot’s arm, with Leon a respectful distance away on his other side, though still within arm’s reach. Elyan settles somewhere below his feet, and for the first time in weeks, Merlin finds himself fully relaxed. 

Aithusa sleepily moves from her spot by Merlin’s feet, to curl up with Gwaine and Percival, and Merlin smiles at the thought that she not only trusts his friends in general, but trusts them enough to leave Merlin in their care. Dragons are protective and possessive creatures, and that trust speaks volumes.

Merlin is still a little miserable, and he almost resents himself for still being scared of Arthur despite his obvious regret, but... with all that happened... well. You can’t really blame him.

He’s got a gaggle of very protective knights around him, one of which he can vaguely hear trying to persuade another to commit regicide when no one was looking.

He has time to huff out a small laugh as Lancelot pulls him closer, before he drifts off; much quicker than he thought he would. He was comforted by the warmth behind him, the presence at his feet, the guardians watching over him, and the hand reaching towards him in the dark, just about close enough to lay fingers over Merlin’s heartbeat.

No nightmares plague him that night, and he doesn’t even wake to the warning growls sent Arthur’s way when he eventually returned to camp.

The next few days, hell, the next few months would probably be difficult, but he finds himself not as anxious now he knows he won’t have to face it alone.

~

THE END

I don’t think I’ll write a part two to this, but if someone wants to extend it, feel free, same as normal: credit and tag me :)

I’ve had the whole speech written out in full in my phone notes for like two months, but only recently got round to actually turning it into anything. I hope ya’ll enjoyed it!! I wanted to write something hella angsty so....

I’m fairly certain whatever I write next will be the dead opposite of this (FLUFF fluff) but honestly who knows.

Let me know if there’s anything specific you want my thoughts on :)

[bisexualbumblebee-writes]

The Attack- Cedric Diggory x OC

Cedric Diggory x Dinah Fanley

Description: Dinah and Cedric see each other at the Quidditch World Cup. When Death Eaters attack their campsite, Cedric is not afraid to stand up for her. 

Word Count: 2.1k

Dinah talked animatedly with her uncle while everyone else filed into the stands. Her father scored three tickets to the Quidditch World Cup and invited her and her Uncle Edward to join him. She couldn’t have been more excited to attend. Even just setting up the inside of their tent was exciting for her as she’d never been to something like this. Her and Uncle Edward leaned against the railing when they heard a familiar voice. 

“Alfred, my old friend!” Amos Diggory called to her father as he made his way over to them. Her dad met him half way and clapped him on the back. Edward laughed at the interaction and walked over with Dinah following. Amos hugged Edward as soon as he and Alfred pulled away. Dinah smiled at them, and when it was her turn she gave Amos a big hug. 

“Dinah, my dear! I haven’t seen you since the beginning of summer. At King’s Cross if I remember correctly,” he tapped his chin in thought. 

“Yes sir Mr. Diggory,” she responded with a laugh. “We talked briefly before my dad found me.”

“You know you don’t have to call me that, Dinah, you’re practically family,” he reprimanded with a wink, making her blush shyly. She’d been dating Cedric for almost three years now, but she still got coy around his father. 

“I didn’t know you were going to be at the World Cup this year,” he continued, looking at her dad and uncle. “I would have thought Cedric would have mentioned it,” he thought aloud.

“We didn’t know either until earlier this week,” Alfred laughed. “I had entered a competition at the beginning of summer but didn’t remember until the tickets came in the mail. We travelled to Italy for a few months so we didn’t get our mail. I believe Dinah didn’t have time to write to Cedric between unpacking.” His hands rested on his daughter’s shoulders, rubbing them gently. Dinah nodded along with him. Because they travelled so much that she hadn’t been able to write a lot to her boyfriend. 

“Dad!” She heard a familiar voice call out, making her perk up and the others look around her.

“Speaking of my son,” Amos laughed, stepping aside. Cedric was walking toward them, but stopped a few yards away. A smile appeared on his face when he realized she was there. Dinah copied his smile and began running to him.

“Cedric!” She exclaimed upon reaching him. She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him. Bear in mind that they hadn’t seen each other in three months so they missed each other dearly. He picked her up and spun her, making her throw her head back and laugh.

“Ah, young love,” Amos said fondly as they watched the couple. “Wish I could fall in love all over again.” Alfred nodded with a dreamy smile.

“You two are just old saps,” Edward laughed, making the other two laugh as well. 

“I didn’t know you were coming to the World Cup,” Cedric said as he set her back down. His hands still rested on her waist while her hands rested comfortably on his upper arms.

“Neither did I until a week ago. I’m sorry for not writing to you much this summer. With all the travelling then unpacking when we returned,” she trailed off, but Cedric simply shook his head with his usual kind smile.

“It’s really okay, I understand. Mum’s missed having you around though,” he chuckled. 

“Well, we’ll see about me visiting next summer,” she reasoned, causing him to nod. Before either of them could say anything, Arthur Weasley reached them.

“Dinah Fanley, it's been a while since I’ve seen you around,” he said as Dinah pulled away from Cedric to hug him. Arthur patted her back as they separated.

“Yeah, dad had to travel to represent the Ministry all summer.” She explained as the Weasleys, Hermione Granger and Harry Potter caught up to them. Everyone took turns hugging her in greeting.

Shortly after everyone got acquainted, the teams were introduced. Dinah cheered extra loud when the Irish team was announced. They all watched a very exciting game. The Irish Chasers were too much for the Bulgarians. They scored repeatedly, and even though the game became quite dirty, the Bulgarians could find no answer. They were spared an embarrassing defeat when their Seeker, Viktor Krum, caught the Golden Snitch causing them to lose by only ten points. Afterwards, the three families went to their respective tents to relax after the game. Dinah continued her earlier conversation while they sat on the pallet used as a couch. They talked for hours upon hours, only stopping to say a quick bye when Alfred went to go talk to Amos (and get his winnings from a bet the two made before the game). 

Dinah was close to heading to bed when Alfred burst in, sighing in relief when he saw his brother and daughter safe. He rushed in and began grabbing his things.

“You two, pack your things. We have to go,” he instructed firmly.

“What? Why?” Edward asked as he stood. It was only then that Dinah heard some sort of commotion coming from outside the tent.

“There’s no time to explain Ed! Just grab your things and let’s go.” Dinah was getting scared now. What was going on? Before either of them could stop her, she ran out of the tent to see what was wrong. Her stomach dropped when she looked around at the sight before her.

There were masked men burning tents and causing much unwanted commotion. She became terrified when she noticed the mob torturing a Muggle man and his family. More wizards joined the marching group, laughing and pointing at the floating bodies as if they were at a zoo. Tents crumpled and fell as the marching crowd grew larger. Dinah watched as one of the marchers blasted a tent out of his way with his wand. Several caught fire. The screaming grew louder around her and she couldn’t help but start crying.

She let out a loud scream when something landed on her shoulder. She spun around and realized it was only her father. He hugged her tightly then handed her her bag.

“Get out of here, follow Cedric and the Weasley children! NOW!” He yelled over the chaos. She had no time to think before she blindly ran past him where she knew the Weasley’s tent would be. No one was inside, which both relieved her and worried her more. She had no idea where to go and she couldn’t see anyone she recognized amongst the fleeing people. 

She was fully sobbing in fear and fell to the ground when someone shoved past her. Her wand slipped out of her hand and she began frantically searching the ground for it, getting stepped on by a few people in the process. Finally, she was confronted by someone wearing a black skull mask. It was a Death Eater. He aimed his wand and cast a spell she couldn’t hear directly at her. She covered her head and prepared for the impact that never came. When she looked up the Death Eater was gone. She jumped when a hand was placed on her shoulder.

“Dinah? Are you okay?” Cedric asked urgently. She nodded quickly and hugged him, finding solace in him after feeling lost, alone and scared. They heard a strange sound coming from the sky, making them look up. Dinah gasped in horror and covered her mouth when she realized that someone cast a Dark Mark in the sky.  Cedric held her firmly in his arms as he helped her stand, only to come face to face with Barty Crouch with a couple ministry workers behind him.

“Did one of you cast the Dark Mark?” Barty accused, pointing his cane at them. Dinah’s words got stuck in her throat, so Cedric answered for her.

“That’s ridiculous Mr. Crouch. I resent you for even suggesting such a thing,” he responded firmly. Barty looked at Dinah with suspicion.

“And what about you?” Both of them were about to answer when she heard her father from behind them.

“That’s my daughter, Mr. Crouch. I can tell you right now she’d never do something like that,” he responded, Edward nodding along with him.

“Children can be deceiving Alfred,” Barty asid simply, still looking at Dinah.

“Listen here Barty, my Dinah has done nothing of the sort and it’s not my fault if you can’t say the same for-” Edward cut Alfred off before anything more could be said. Barty stiffened and looked at the two men, but couldn’t say anything before Arthur came running with Winky, the Crouch’s house elf.

Dinah had stopped listening by then. Instead, she just stared around blankly at the chaos that the Death Eaters created. There were fires everywhere, tents either on fire or now collapsed from the marching wizards. It looked like a war zone, and technically it was. The voices near her were drowned out until Dinah felt Cedric’s arm squeeze her a bit to catch her attention. When she looked around once more, the Ministry was walking away and the Weasleys were now with them. Ginny ran towards her and hugged her tightly.

“Thank Merlin you’re okay,” she whispered into Dinah’s ear. Dinah was quick to hug her back, but the redhead moved when her father and uncle walked over, entrapping her in a tight hug that she gladly returned.

“I think it’s time we go home,” Amos spoke solemnly. The rest nodded and picked up their things. Dinah looked at her father with an expression only he could understand. 

“Amos, do you mind letting Dinah stay the night? She still seems shaken up and I don’t think she wants to be without Cedric for tonight,” Alfred asked earnestly. Amos looked at the girl with a kind smile and nodded.

“I think that would be a great idea,” he responded, patting Cedric’s shoulder. Dinah gave her father and uncle one last hug before making her way back to Amos and Cedric. Cedric wrapped his free arm around her shoulders and followed his father and the Weasleys back to the Portkey they used to get here. From there they used Floo Powder in the Weasley’s chimney to return to the Diggory residence. Amos bid the teenagers goodnight and went upstairs to tell his wife everything that happened. 

Cedric led her up to his room and let her have the bathroom to change. He was already in his pajamas and under the covers when she returned. When he noticed her in the doorway, he pulled back the covers so she could climb in, which she promptly did after turning off the lights. They faced each other with his arms around her waist and her hands resting against his chest. Neither of them said anything about it, but they both knew she was doing it to feel his heartbeat as a form of grounding her. 

“I was scared, you know,” Cedric mumbled low enough that Dinah wouldn’t have heard if she wasn’t paying attention to his every move. “When I couldn’t find you in the crowd. Then I saw you on the ground with one of his minions pointing his wand at you, I knew I had to do something.” She looked at him confused.

“Wait, you’re the reason why a spell didn’t hit me?” Cedric smiled a little at her appalled features and nodded. 

“Simple shield spell did the trick just fine. Then the Ministry started showing up so he ran off,” he explained, making Dinah frown. 

“Ced you could have been seriously hurt, or worse. If the Ministry hadn’t shown up-” he cut her off before she could finish.

“But they did, and that’s all that matters. Right?” He stared into her eyes with so much love and passion that she just couldn’t look away.

“I guess,” she sighed, moving one hand to play with his hair. Cedric hummed approvingly and closed his eyes.

“Giggles, you’re going to make me fall asleep if you keep doing that,” he muttered. The nickname proved itself true because she giggled at it, making him smile.

“Is that a bad thing? You’ve had a long day.” 

“So have you,” he pointed out. Dinah only shrugged in response and continued her movements. 

Surprisingly though, she was the one to fall asleep first. Cedric’s eyes opened just a little when her movements stilled. She was sleeping peacefully with quiet snores emitting from her. Cedric smiled and leaned forward just enough to kiss her forehead before closing his eyes again, falling into a peaceful slumber again.

[scummy-writes]

Better in The Morning

Rating: Explicit (Minors dni)

Words: 5703

Pairing: Theo/Arthur

Tags: Jealousy, Drinking, Blood Drinking, Anal Sex, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Light Angst, Choking, Idiots to Lovers, Biting, Theocona

Full fic under the cut!

Preview:

The feel of Theo’s tongue against his drew a shudder out. Arthur twisted his fingers into Theo’s shirt, head beginning to spin as Theo’s kisses grew rough, more demanding, making Arthur’s hands shake as he blindly searched for the buttons of Theo’s shirt and clumsily worked them. It was difficult to concentrate or even attempt taking back control when Theo kept stealing his breath, and Arthur was pleased; safe from the burden of thinking past impulses.

Three buttons undone, and Arthur’s palms spread out against Theo’s chest as they finally broke apart, gasping for breath. He watched as Theo surveyed him, taking in the sight of his hair disheveled, his slick and swollen lips. Arthur knew the heat spread across his cheeks was obvious, and when a ghost of a prideful smirk took over Theo’s features, Arthur wrapped his arms around his neck with a strained chuckle.

------

Sex was just a formula in the end: Flirting, enticing, tempting touches. Hushed promises breathed against heated skin, the shuffling of clothes along with the creak of a mattress. Slow, purposeful touches that crept faster, until thinking wasn’t needed as instinct took over.

Or, most of the time it’s how it went.

Arthur hazily looked at the woman laid bare in front of him, sweat shining on her breasts while her hands dug into the sheets. Her eyes were squeezed shut, mouth hung open as her gasps and groans began to rise higher in pitch. With such a pretty little bird beneath him and pleasure making his mind spin, how was it that his thoughts kept flitting elsewhere? Making his breath catch for other reasons; movements falter.

What a disservice to the one calling his name…

Arthur leaned over her, making her shiver with the playful nips he drew along her jaw, trailing further and further below until he could nose her pulse, sighing at the fragrance of perfume mixed with such a lovely drink. He timed his bite with a harsh thrust of his hips, feeling her nails dig into his back as she clenched around him.

It wasn’t as if it was a bore, but the only thirst quenched tonight was that of his throat. He found himself getting dressed rather quickly after discarding the condom, and the woman hazily reached out to him, barely having caught her breath and struggling to keep lucid with the pleasure still trembling through her.

“W-where are you…?”

“Ah, sorry luv,” He feigned a pout, giving a quick kiss to her cheek, “got a rather busy morning tomorrow, can’t quite risk being late.”

Granted, he wasn’t a total ass. Arthur made sure to clean up the mess they made without disturbing her too much as she faded out, but he was still out on the streets faster than usual. Huffing to himself, he stretched as he walked.

When was the last time sex felt so pitiful for him?

Deep down Arthur knew the reasons why, but he was stubborn, if anything. Refusing to give his feelings a name as they steadily bubbled within him, begrudgingly recalling a scene from earlier this afternoon. Where he had finally caught a glimpse of Theo after days on end of elusive misses; the man having been too busy to even linger for breakfast- or rather, linger long enough for Arthur to wake up and join.

He had been so excited too, walking up to try and ask the art dealer for some of his time. Only to stop when a woman seemed to join Theo, watching as her bright laughter brought on a smile he had never seen from Theo before.

It was such a small scene, and truly, shouldn’t he feel happy for his stoic friend? Instead, his throat had felt tight, a wash of bitterness overtaking him as he turned back around, finding himself heading towards visiting his favorite pub.

Now, Arthur kicked a pebble ahead of him as he walked home, unable to properly distract himself as he played the scene out over and over in his mind.

---

Arthur sighed, dropping his pen aside as he took his glasses off. Crumpled papers were littered on his desk, and his current sheet in front of him was just filled with scratched out words and ink blots. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting to produce, after being awake for well over a full twenty-four hours now. It wasn’t as if his eighth cup of coffee would magically yield better results than the last.

“Blast…”

It was too late to go out of the mansion at this point, far too late to see if he could even swoon some minx into a distraction- and the appeal of that dwindled down as he remembered the pisspoor attempt from last time…

Standing up, he stretched his back before slumping.

Running from troubles were always temporary, in the end. After a while, they caught up, and Arthur knew when he had to settle in and let them run their course. It didn’t mean he wouldn’t be sour over it, hating the way his anxieties and fears would churn in his stomach, but at least his reluctant acceptance still gave him a vague feeling of agency over his own mind turning against him.

~

The parlor felt like a breath of fresh air in comparison to his stuffy room, and Arthur placed the decanter of whiskey he snatched on the side table, knowing he could be left alone to ruminate over his childish feelings in peace, nursing a glass and hoping to fall asleep. The warm glow the light gave off certainly helped him feel a bit drowsy, even if his wandering thoughts were working against him in that regard.

Arthur settled himself into the chair, pouring himself a drink as he surveyed the cover of a book. Just a harmless collection of poetry, but recalling the way Theo seemed so absorbed reading it in the salon made his stomach stir. Against his better judgement, he opened the book and flipped through the pages, scanning each stanza and wondering.

Was Theo reading this and thinking of that woman? Each flowery bit of prose bringing that same smile she had managed to drudge out as Theo thought about her?

Arthur knew he had no right to be so torn up about this, not when he had a body count that was too high to remember, but…

It still stung regardless. Pooling in the pit of his stomach, making his breaths harder to take in the longer this feeling ruminated inside. He knew that, even if he weren't so cowardly, that he hadn't a hope of pulling those smiles out of Theo. That his refusal to admit his feelings, even to himself, was what had landed him in this mess.

Of course, while he sat there bitterly overlooking poem after poem, the man he had been lamenting about comes into the parlor. At the height of Arthur’s self degradation, nonetheless.

A gruff sigh spilled out of Theo once Arthur wearily met his gaze. He didn’t say anything at first, eyes glancing at the bottle resting beside Arthur, then towards the book he held. If Theo had any strong feelings towards the poetry, he didn’t show it as he walked over, taking the seat beside him.

“Didn’t think you read the stuff.”

Didn’t think you did either. But Arthur shrugged, setting the book aside, “someone left it in here.”

It was quiet. Theo didn’t seem to have any reason to come into the parlor, but he sat patiently beside Arthur regardless, toying with the decanter’s top as time ticked by.

“How long have you been here?”

“Mm. Dunno. Long enough to wonder how long until le Comte updates his library,” he gestured his glass towards the book resting between them, “that book is older than the both of us.”

Arthur could feel Theo’s gaze on him. It wasn’t like the man was attempting to hide it, but he kept silent as Arthur took a slow sip of his whiskey with a sigh.

“Couldn’t find a ‘bird’ to put up with you tonight?”

And deal with another woman with a mothering complex trying to ‘nurse him’ back to whatever his normal was? No. He just shrugged at Theo’s question instead, raking a hand through his hair as he slouched in his seat, shaking his head, “wasn’t in the mood.”

“Mm. Finally gaining a conscience over leaving those women alone in the morning?”

The gentle prod was obvious, but Arthur ignored it as he poured himself another glass. He wasn’t sure what brought forth concern on Theo’s end. Did he look as haggard as he felt? Sleep had never came last night, and he knew that much was obvious, but what else was causing Theo’s eyes to narrow while Arthur stared into the amber liquid?

Downing it in one go, Arthur made the motion towards the decanter but felt Theo’s hand on his.

The warmth of Theo’s hand stole his thoughts away. He was so used to wearing gloves that he found himself unable to recall a moment where they had skin to skin contact before now. Skinship that wasn’t drunken brushes between each other. Arthur swallowed thickly, mind overcome with imaginings of Theo holding that woman’s hand and smiling- smiles Arthur could never evoke from him, feeling his chest clench again.

Drinking suddenly felt like a need, rather than a want.

“Theo?”

Theo blinked, swallowing when his eyes wavered with something Arthur couldn't catch, “we both know you’re a lightweight, slow down on the drinking.”

Arthur’s brows furrowed, shaking Theo’s hand off, “we’re at home, anyway, ‘s not like I’m going to cause trouble.”

“Arthur.”

“Bloody hell, what is it?” Theo recoiled at his tone. He took his time with a response, ruminating on the words for a reason Arthur couldn’t fathom, but the words just made his sudden temper worse.

“Drinking isn’t going to help whatever mood you're in.”

Silence stretched out between them as Arthur held his breath, his glass still resting on the table as they looked at each other. Theo’s concern was evident, and deep down Arthur knew that it was genuine; possibly even what had prompted Theo to come into the room to begin with, but jealousy kept skewing his perception. Arthur clicked his tongue as he finally tore his gaze away.

“It’ll help me sleep tonight,” another pause, then Arthur rubbed his eyes with a huff, annoyed at himself, “I haven’t slept for ages-”

“Drinking will knock you flat on your ass, but you know as well as I do that it’ll make you go through hell when you finally do wake up.”

“Maybe I’m just a glutton for punishment-” It certainly felt like it when he couldn’t stop himself from deliberately pushing people away from him, but Theo ignored his depressive tone, yanking the decanter out of his grasp.

“Then, view this as a punishment.”

"For God's sake- you're going to do this all night aren't you?"

It wasn't so much a question, not with how Arthur rolled his eyes, finishing off his glass before Theo could think about grabbing it. "You do know there's more booze in the mansion, don't you?"

Theo shrugged his shoulders, "I know that if you're too lazy to go distract yourself with one of your 'skirts', you're too lazy to scour for more."

Arthur didn't respond, eyes closed as he leaned upon his elbow, propping his head up with a sigh.

"... What do you propose, then?"

~

At Arthur’s first stumble out of the parlor, Theo tsked and wrapped his arm around his shoulders, huffing a reprimand in the process. It was an accident, Arthur really hadn’t drank that much yet, but… He let himself be led towards his room, feeling careless ideas come to mind the longer he let Theo keep his grip.

Each step closer, Arthur considered his options, feeling his emotions battling out his rationale. What proof did he have of Theo really getting with that woman? A quick glance and Theo had no lipstick markings on his cheeks or neck, no scent of perfume… Most people were quick to spend as much time with a new partner in the beginning stages. Given that Theo rarely had any breaks from work and didn’t appear to spend his rare day off with the woman Arthur had saw, it opened two possibilities.

Either they had yet to breach the hurdle of admitting their feelings towards each other, or they had been together for longer than Arthur realized.

The latter stung at the back of his throat as he swallowed the thought down, focusing on the first. Because if they had yet to get together… Well, Arthur could do what he does best.

He smiled bitterly to himself, playing up the role of a drunk as they neared Theo’s room.

~

Excuses. That’s what Arthur needed; something to make his behavior forgettable in the morning. Something to make his shame easier to deal with the next day. He took advantage of Theo’s dazed state after they stumbled into his room, cupping his cheeks mid-scold and stealing a lingering kiss. At first, Theo seemed frozen, unsure of how to react, and Arthur’s fear exacerbated. He nipped at Theo’s bottom lip, feeling his shoulders drop with relief when the man finally kissed him back.

Theo was hesitant, his grip unfocused as Arthur managed to take the lead; distracting him as he slowly backed Theo into his desk chair, straddling him easily. When they broke apart, panting as Theo’s confused look swept over him, the taste of him still lingered on Arthur’s lips as he nervously licked them, “don’t you want a distraction too?”

Theo’s gaze narrowed for a moment. The threat of getting an answer he feared pushed Arthur to act impulsively, crashing their lips together in one fluid movement.

Regardless of how clumsy it was, Arthur was thankful when he felt Theo’s grip focus on his ass, pushing their bodies flush together and dragging out as gasp when his fingers threaded themselves in Arthur’s hair; holding him in place as their rushed kisses deepened. Every heavy breath between them reeked of ethanol, and as Arthur felt Theo slowly get harder, he pushed the thoughts of their crumbling friendship aside.

The feel of Theo’s tongue against his drew a shudder out. Arthur twisted his fingers into Theo’s shirt, head beginning to spin as Theo’s kisses grew rough, more demanding, making Arthur’s hands shake as he blindly searched for the buttons of Theo’s shirt and clumsily worked them. It was difficult to concentrate or even attempt taking back control when Theo kept stealing his breath, and Arthur was pleased; safe from the burden of thinking past impulses.

Three buttons undone, and Arthur’s palms spread out against Theo’s chest as they finally broke apart, gasping for breath. He watched as Theo surveyed him, taking in the sight of his hair disheveled, his slick and swollen lips. Arthur knew the heat spread across his cheeks was obvious, and when a ghost of a prideful smirk took over Theo’s features, Arthur wrapped his arms around his neck with a strained chuckle.

“You’re not going to stop there, are you?”

With a slow blink, Theo finally came back to the present and slid his palms over Arthur’s ass again. A surge of heat rushed through Arthur, making him bite his lip in pleasure.

They weren’t sober by any means, but neither of them were drunk. Yet when Theo suddenly began pressing his lips against Arthur’s neck, he let out a breathless, excited laugh with his groan, Arthur’s head spinning as if he had drank his limit three times over.

A brush of Theo’s fangs against his skin made Arthur thread his fingers through Theo’s locks, shivering with the teasing waves of pleasure it brought. Slowly, the chair they sat on began to creak as Arthur rolled his hips, grinding their clothed erections together with an open moan. It only took a few more desperate pushes to coax Theo into changing positions.

Arthur nearly yelped as Theo abruptly stood up, carrying him over towards his bed with much more ease than expected- only to drop Arthur onto the mattress.

“Bloody hell, Theo, I’m not a toy-” but his flash of annoyance disappeared as Theo straddled him, working his shirt off. Unable to look away, Arthur’s eyes raked over Theo’s chest, a hum of appreciation unabashedly slipping out, “... maybe we should have done this sooner.”

Theo scoffed, beginning to roughly unbutton Arthur’s shirt, looking pleased when Arthur arched into his touch. Excited, Arthur smirked as he slid his hands between them, deftly unbuckling Theo’s belt.

It was rushed, and Arthur liked it that way. Dragging out teasing touches just opened up the chance for his unwanted thoughts to consume him and take him out of the mood. Arthur wanted to speed this up, drive Theo mad enough to shove his face into the mattress and give him the mindless pleasure he craved. So he tugged Theo’s zipper down and cupped his length, a breathless laugh escaping him when Theo briefly thrusted against his palm with a low grunt.

Arthur took Theo’s open pleasure in stride, grinning as he slipped his hand into Theo’s boxers, grasping his cock and giving a few loose strokes. Already, precum was leaking from Theo’s slit, and Arthur couldn’t help the soft groan he let out when he felt it wet his palm, “all because of me, hm?”

“Something like that.”

The unintentional pout he gave made Theo bark out a laugh, which caused his lips to twist into a frown. ‘Something like that’. He’ll make it because of him, regardless of Theo’s pride.

Running his thumb over Theo’s slit, he dragged the precum gathered there in a slow, teasing circle along his glans, loving how Theo’s eyes fluttered shut with a moan, “mm, are you sure?”

Theo’s eyes snapped open in annoyance, and suddenly Arthur’s belt was roughly being undone and tossed aside so Theo could yank his pants down enough to take his cock into his hand, mimicking Arthur’s earlier motions. Giddily, Arthur thrust into Theo’s grip, letting out a content, low sigh, “finally.”

He had to wonder what he looked like to Theo, a man he was unsure of would even find pleasure in any of this before now. A flushed, sultry mess like the minxes Arthur happily devoured, tempting Theo to explore new sinful approaches to their relationship?

Arthur almost scoffed at himself, but he still played his part; tugging Theo down by his arm, demanding another flurry of biting kisses as their cocks brushed against each other. He took delight in the strained moan Theo choked on when Arthur reached between them, grasping their throbbing cocks in his hand. There wasn’t any need for words. Theo quickly began to slip his tongue back into Arthur’s mouth, thrusting in time with Arthur’s strokes, swallowing their muffled moans.

But then Theo’s fingers pried Arthur’s grip open, threading their hands together and instead forced Arthur to stroke them like that- as if they were holding hands. It shouldn’t have tripped Arthur up, not when the move made it easier for them to chase after their release, but he found his thoughts slipping back towards a different type of neediness.

It took a lot to break apart from Theo, who quickly busied himself nipping at Arthur’s neck while he caught his breath long enough to speak, “H-hey, surely you don’t want it to- ahn, end like this?”

“Mm, think you can handle otherwise?”

Arthur just chuckled, running a hand through his sweaty bangs, “don't make me beg, Theo, I'm not sure either of us could take it.”

The cocky tone earned him a harsh nip to his pulse, making Arthur let out a choked noise when Theo paired it with a squeeze to the tip of their cocks. Theo finally let go after a moment and carefully got off of him, reaching into his nightstand to pull out a jar of lube.

"I can't believe you jerk off more than sleep around, ' Arthur mused and removed his undergarments as Theo rolled his eyes, '...what does the stubborn Theodorus Van Gogh get off to, hm?"

His question seemingly went ignored as Theo came back to him, fingers slick with lube. Gently he rested his knees on the bed, nudging Arthur to spread his legs before he spread lube around his hole.

Arthur hated this. He hated the careful way Theo pushed a finger inside of him, watching as Arthur held his breath. It’s not as if it hurt- god only knows how often Arthur’s been more adventurous- but the process takes time. And asking patience from a man who was struggling as much as he was torture.

“Better tell me if it hurts, klootzak.”

He nodded, knowing Theo would stop otherwise. After a few careful pumps, Theo pressed another finger inside, drawing a content sigh of his name from Arthur. By the time the third one was in, Arthur slowly began to stroke himself, shooting a smile Theo’s way when he watched intently, “enjoying the show?”

“Wondering how you manage to keep from being a quick shot.”

"Believe it or not, I do have some self control."

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” he scoffed.

The way Theo smirked as the tip of his cock started to push into him made Arthur’s arousal flare, and… Well, it didn't feel bad, but Arthur winced as Theo inched deeper, his length thicker than Arthur had initially believed.

With that slip in confidence, Theo stopped abruptly, making Arthur grumble impatiently.

"Come now, you're not going to tease me this badly, are you?"

"You're already wincing-"

"Well, I didn't realize your thick-headedness extended that far down, Theo."

Regardless, Theo carefully pulled out of Arthur, evidently ready to settle on a different method of getting off.

“If you’re that worried then,” Arthur sat up, stealing another kiss before muttering against Theo’s mouth, “lay down.”

The look Theo gave was skeptical, but he backed off. Laying down he eyed Arthur, his caution ebbing away as Arthur threw a leg over his waist, straddling him with a grin. He kept one hand on Theo's chest as he reached behind him, giving Theo’s thick length a few good strokes before steering the tip of his cock to his entrance. The anticipation that had built up in Arthur’s abdomen dissolved into a fiery heat once he gingerly lowered himself onto Theo’s cock, his quiet gasps making Theo grab onto his thighs in a flash of worry.

“Hey, don’t push yourse-,” but Arthur’s hips sank down in one fluid movement before Theo could finish, taking Theo’s cock in as deep as he could manage.

“F-fuck, Theo, I-” a shudder overcame Arthur as his own cock throbbed with need.

“Yeah? Thought you said you could take it?”

He shot Theo a bleary-eyed glare, one that barely lingered, his expression morphing into one of pleasure as he tested a roll of his hips, loving the way Theo’s length pushed back into him impatiently.

Arthur spread his hands out on Theo's chest, doing his best to ignore how fast Theo's heart was beating as he used the leverage to start an unsteady pace.

It was difficult to quip about Theo's flushed features, not when his head was already spinning from finally getting Theo tangled up with him like this. Each bounce on Theo's cock slowly made Arthur's composure slip, his speed faltering when he managed to plunge Theo's cock in deeper on some thrusts more than others.

Admittedly, it drove Arthur nearly mad; getting Theo just where he wanted him, only for Arthur to clumsily take his cock like this. Whereas Theo… Arthur hesitated, shivering from the excitement buzzing throughout him, Theo still wore a confident smirk with his skin just as flushed as Arthur’s.

"I thought you've done this before?"

"I have- y-you're just so bloody thick-" Theo's rough hands grabbed ahold of his hips, interrupting Arthur as Theo pulled him down just as he thrusted upwards, drawing out a strangled cry from the writer, "Theo!"

“Does it hurt?”

“No-”

“Then,” Theo tightened his grip, keeping up the pace and covering the speed Arthur was lacking, “stop complaining.”

And maybe Arthur really had too much to drink; he couldn’t focus on anything but chasing the pleasure of this secretly harbored fantasy coming to life. He was unable to care about the noises spilling out as Theo roughly guided Arthur’s hips to meet each thrust he gave.

The throbbing arousal coursing through him reached a dangerous peak not too long after, and Arthur’s nails dug into Theo’s chest as he attempted to regain some clarity and control himself better. But Theo slowed and stopped moving, causing Arthur to pant out a curse.

"Y-You're such a devil-!"

"Mm, doesn't seem to stop you from mewling."

Arthur’s head spun as Theo pulled out, drawing an embarrassing whine out until he was pushed onto his back. Theo's palms slid along the underside of Arthur's thighs, ass, until he grabbed his sides, pushing in deep with a lazy roll of his hips.

"Uhn- ah! Theo-" Arthur’s voice was already strained, but another groan bubbled up when Theo picked up the pace. It was obvious Theo was getting close, his jaw clenched tight as his thrusts delved deeper, harsh enough to make the bed creak in tandem.

Fumbling, Arthur tugged on Theo’s locks to crash their lips together again. Nails dug into his hips for a moment, and then Theo broke them apart, eyes narrowed at Arthur’s chuckle.

Finding a hand at his throat, Arthur lightly gasped as Theo’s barely-there grip focused on the sides of his throat. It was enough to give Arthur a chance to rasp out any type of rejection to the idea, but instead the writer dug his heels into Theo’s ass, urging him to keep going.

At first, Theo kept his hold as it was, but as he began to get closer to his release, he tightened it just enough for Arthur’s knees to press against his waist, Arthur’s eyes going hazy at the new pleasure.

And then he let go, permitting Arthur to take in a deep breath, “fuck…”

“Tell me if I need to stop,” Theo warned, but Arthur just chuckled.

“Don’t stop until you cum. You’re, ahn, just as close as I am, h-huh?” Arthur gave him a smug look despite the flush on his cheeks, despite the way his bangs were ruffled and damp with sweat; Theo gripped him tight as he leaned over, nipping and sucking a mark onto his neck, right where his collar couldn’t reach. Arthur’s cock throbbed at the sensation, feeling as though he was being claimed.

“Then- Tell me where you want it.”

"I-inside! Oh hell, Theo, I want to feel it-"

Arthur's back arched as Theo's grip tightened again, feeling Arthur clench around his cock.

"Feel what?"

Release, Arthur sucking in air as he spoke all at once.

"Want to feel your cock throb- a-as you cum, mmph. Make me feel- ghk-!"

Another tightened grip, and Arthur's eyes welled as Theo slammed into him, heavily panting as Arthur shook with each thrust. The lack of air nearly became unbearable, but just before it was too much, Theo let go. Instead he pushed on Arthur’s thighs, nearly folding him in half as he thrusted once, twice, and then spilled inside with a rasp.

The faint smell of ethanol lingered between them, mixed into the way Arthur desperately tugged Theo close, smashing their lips together in clumsy kisses. He threaded his fingers through Theo's hair, keeping him in place for just a moment, to meet his gaze when they broke apart.

"Theo."

His name is muttered as a lovelorn sigh, Arthur's eyes searching his for something, but Theo dipped his head against Arthur's neck, avoiding the unspoken confession as his fangs broke skin.

“Ah-Ah! Oh gods-” Arthur’s nails dig deep into Theo’s back and scalp, his noises turning into choked rasps as Theo reached between them, jerking Arthur off to the timing of his slowing thrusts.

Arthur lasted just long enough for Theo to pull his fangs out, to let out a string of curses as he tensed and spilled over Theo’s hand, and then Theo pulled out with shuddering breaths, forehead planted against Arthur’s shoulder.

~

It took what felt like ages for the two of them to catch their breath. As soon as the afterglow fades and a slow ache replaces it, Arthur found his thoughts immediately settling onto his current issue: Theo. Who was refusing to look at him, head still pressed against his shoulder.

Embarrassment started to creep in the longer they refused to speak.

What did you do, Arthur?

"Well, that was a nice bit of fun," he swallowed thickly, hoping Theo can't feel the hammering in his chest, "perhaps we should do this again sometime…"

Theo groaned, frustration clear, "is sex the only thing that's ever on your mind?"

"You weren't complaining before-"

But Theo finally got up, sitting back on his knees, "can you get up?"

"What, kicking me out so soon? No wonder you can only get with your hand."

"Bath, Arthur. Trying to see if you can make it to the le therme."

Oh…

~

Shame struck Arthur once they both sink into the water, the heat drawing attention to all the parts of him that ache. He was lucky his job wasn't anything like Theo's, and that he could get away with sitting on his ass all day.

Getting here wasn't as easy as he thought. All his bravado fizzled away when it became apparent just how hard they had gone at it, and Arthur's stumble when getting up prompted Theo to…

Well, he's just thankful no one saw how pathetic he looked getting here.

Arthur sank a little deeper into the water as the silence between them stretched out, glad the heat was helping his lower back. But the longer they were quiet, the more Arthur’s thoughts rushed; had anyone else heard them? What was Theo thinking right now?

Had Arthur just ruined whatever was built up between them, or were those feelings completely one-sided?

An annoyed tsk caused him to glance at Theo, who was rubbing his neck.

“Did you have to leave a mark so high up? How am I going to explain this…”

Ah… now that he was looking at Theo in the light, he noticed his desperation all over him. Lovebites along his neck and collar, Theo’s hair still mussed and scratches along his shoulder… At the thought of others catching a glimpse, Arthur felt his jealousy simmer.

“I think it looks good,” looked like he’s taken, at least.

"I feel sorry for all those women you sleep with if they wake up like this. Tch, I look like a fool."

Arthur wasn't sure what to feel. Proud? Sated? There was a sliver of joy humming inside of him; he finally got a taste of what he'd been craving for so long. But guilt and fear were quickly taking ahold of him, unable to keep himself from wondering just how bad he screwed things up.

"What does this mean now?" The question slipped out as soon as he thought it, and Arthur felt his ears burn as Theo shrugged.

"You said you wanted a distraction, and you got it."

Ouch. But he did deserve that, he supposed.

"So… We just go along like this never happened?" Theo gave him a noncommittal grunt, and Arthur kept on, "Theo, just humor me, will you?"

There was a sigh, Theo rubbing the back of his neck, "I don't know what answer you want, Arthur. For fucks sake, neither of us were thinking."

"Doesn't this have higher stakes for you? What about that pretty bird you keep taking strolls along the Seine with?"

Theo froze, giving Arthur an incredulous look, "you mean Mr. Garnier’s wife?"

Arthur went quiet, feeling heat in his cheeks as he processed Theo's words, and the accompanying embarrassment. Weakly, he stammered, "i-is that the only woman you've… you've been seeing?"

And Theo, the bastard, burst in laughter as a response. Not quietly either; loud enough to make Arthur's ears ring as the foolishness of this situation sunk in.

"Theo, for gods sake-"

"Is that what this was all about? Is that why you were in such a mood earlier?"

Arthur covered his face, his pride washing away, "my god man, do shut up."

His laughter continued until it faded off into a chuckle. Seeing Arthur still unable to look his way, Theo finally relaxed, wrapping an arm around Arthur’s shoulders and tugging him close.

“Come ‘ere.” Arthur still doesn’t speak, but Theo slowly continues, choosing his words carefully, “is this really why you’ve been moody lately?”

“At this point, does it really matter if I give an answer?”

Reviewing tonight’s events should have been enough of an answer, but with the reluctant confirmation, Theo just gives Arthur a half-hearted squeeze. It made Arthur finally relax his shoulders, no longer hiding his face.

“I’m… Not good with these things, Arthur,” No, he wasn’t. It was another reason Arthur had been so surprised to see him happily with another woman. But now, knowing all of that jealousy was pointless, to an extent, well… Arthur kept quiet as Theo continued, “even before arriving here, when I didn’t have so much weighing me down, I wasn’t good at this. But…”

Theo trailed off before taking another deep breath, “if this is genuine... then I’m willing to give it a try. With you.”

Surprised, Arthur looked over to meet Theo’s gaze- only to see the man was turned away, the tips of his ears reddened.

“‘I’m not good at these things’, he says…”

Theo turned to shoot him a glare, only frowning when he realized it let Arthur see just how badly he was blushing.

“I’m trying.”

Chuckling, Arthur felt his anxieties start to ebb away, “you really want to do this? With a mess like me? If this thing goes south, well…”

“I’d be handling this ‘mess’ in one way or another, regardless.”

“Very romantic, Theo. Thanks.”

The quip eases them both with the laugh it brings, and this time the quiet that stretched out was comfortable.

“We’ll need to talk about this more, in the morning, but for now,” Theo slipped his arm around Arthur’s waist, relaxing, “don’t work yourself up. We’re fine.”

“That obvious, huh?”

“You’re not the only one good at reading others, you know.”

Arthur merely hummed in response, letting that comfortable silence come back.

It felt odd, to say the least, to even consider getting into a serious relationship. Years of waving off most chances at happiness caused an almost knee-jerk reaction to do the same here; to chase Theo off with showcasing the worst of him. But Theo had already seen all of that.

There was still the chance of this not working out, or working out in the way they planned, but Arthur finally let himself rest against Theo, choosing to ignore those obnoxious worries at least for tonight.

------

I've discovered a friend can innocently send me a song saying it makes them think of a shared favored ship, only for me to dumbly open a word doc to scramble in a fic inspired by it.

I've wanted to write a longer Theocona fic for a while now, I didn't think it'd be like this, especially given how it's. Rusty. But if you read through it all: Thank you!

While I love these fools, I'm not too sure when the next time I'll write another fic for them. Theo's really hard to write, and I have so many older wips I need to finish... Maybe sooner than later I'll have another, but an established relationship themed one...

Thank you again for reading!

Masterlist || Ikevamp Server

Tag list (Please DM/Send an ask if you'd like to be added/removed):

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[ofnifflersandkings]

Endgame Strategy

Character: Benny Watts

A/n: I said I’d write for the hot chess people so I did. The timeline for this is kinda confusing but the desperation I had to write this made me simply not care.

•

“(Y/n)!” 

A familiar voice pulled you from your current task of getting Benny’s two ton apartment door shut. You barely got yourself inside before a pair of arms promptly wrapped around you. 

You staggered backwards by the sudden weight, a noise between a wheeze and a laugh escaping you as you registered who it was.

“If it isn’t my favorite drama queen!” You pulled back to get a good luck at Beth, a big grin busting out on both of your faces.

“Come in,” She ushered you in, helping you take off your coat and asking you little questions as she lead you over to the sink.

You were a pretty established photographer for some big fashion companies, so you had been traveling with Cleo around Europe for the better half of a year. You’d telephoned Benny as soon as all of your campaigns wrapped up and he instantly insisted you come to New York to make up for lost time.

You had just started to get a word in when you felt someone come up behind you and squeeze you abruptly, practically toppling you over. “Look what the cat dragged in!”

You looked over to see Benny already looking down at you with a grin before promptly ruffling up your hair. “Hey stranger,” He grinned. You pushed him off and turned to give him a proper hug. 

You noticed Arthur and Hilton lingering behind him and you pulled yourself from his hold to greet them as well.

“You came at the perfect time,” Benny said, slinging an arm over your shoulder. “We were just about to start.”

“What do you say, (Y/n)?” Hilton asked. “Finally gonna indulge us and play a game?”

You shoved his hands off of you and sent him a smile. “You don’t need some newbie slowing down your thunder,” You noticed Benny giving you the pleading look he always sent your way when you turned down playing chess. You swear you thought he knew how to deflate his eyes on purpose so he looked like a kicked puppy. “No, I don’t need your patronizing when I barely make it past five moves.”

Benny was an old childhood friend of yours, so you had known Arthur and Hilton for almost as long as he had. And they made it their personal life mission to rope into playing against one of them. But you were renowned for your patience and they’d yet to wear you down. 

Beth sent a small pout your way and handed you a glass of water. “Oh please, now who’s the drama queen. You were doing great when I was teaching you last time we saw each other.”

Benny’s gaze shot up. “What?”

You scoffed at her, completely forget about your last encounter. “Now that’s not fair, we were hardly playing. You had to show me where to move every five minutes.”

“When did you see each other?” Benny pushed.

You sighed, smoothing down your sweater. “When I was in Paris with Cleo, we only saw each other the one night and I was just bored and tipsy enough to let her show me.” 

She grinned at you, shoving her arm into you as she leant into your side. “I think you have lots of potential. I could make a grandmaster out of you, I know it.”

Benny’s eyes followed you as you moved from your standing position to sit next to him on the sofa.

“You never let me teach you how to play,” He murmured to you with a huff, causing a small tuft of his hair to fly upwards.

Benny had made several attempts to get you into the game he loved so dearly. And as one of the few constant people in his life he wanted you to be part of his world. But each time was met with a firm refusal on your part, insisting you wouldn’t get it. He’d try to pull every trick in the book, every charming smile and all the pretty words he knew to try and convince you to let him show you, but you were always indifferent to his charisma. 

It annoyed the shit out of him.

Truth was you didn’t want to risk embarrassing yourself in front of him. You’d seen him play at almost every match he was ever in and it was almost scary how good he was. You could play a casual game and maybe boast a win or two, but playing against him wasn’t something you think you’ll ever do. Besides, give him the satisfaction of having your inevitable defeat over your head? Not in this lifetime.

You let out a light laugh, smiling at Beth as she moved to grab the other boards from Benny’s alarming collection he kept stuffed in the closet. “You’re too intimidating when you play, I’d be distracted.”

Benny rolled his eyes, thinking of the stern look that permanently sets on Beth’s face. The woman who looks like she’s three seconds away from going for your neck during her games but he was too intimidating.

You took a sip from your glass of water and lightly knocking over one of the knight pieces on the board in front of you. “I don’t see why it matters, I’ll be beat regardless of who’s playing.”

He frowned, he’d always wanted to play you. Not because he cared about winning but he just wanted you to see his skill firsthand. You didn’t bat an eyelash at winnings anymore, and you never stuck around for his in-depth lectures about game theory with the other players. But he also knew you liked knowing the way things worked. And since chess was his bailiwick, Beth being the only other American player who could beat him, he knew you’d be impressed. At first he just thought you weren’t interested, so knowing you were being taught by someone else stung twice-over. 

You knew something was wrong when he didn’t send a clever remark back your way. Benny liked to think he was this cool and collected character, but really he could be quite the prima donna. Knowing him for as long as you did made him an open book, you could almost always know what he was thinking.  

“Don’t be such a baby, Bens.” You grinned, leaning over to tap the end of his nose, something you always did to irritate him. “She crushed me anyways.”

“You’d win if you let me teach you.” He argued, looking at you pointedly. 

“I don’t need to win, that’s your job,” You leaned into him, trying to stroke his ego to get him to drop the subject. 

Benny’s ears perked up and he was about to go into of his grand self-assured lectures when Beth interrupted him, promptly placing the boxes of chess boards on the table in front of him.

“I dunno, (Y/n),” Beth gloated, passing a box to Hilton. “I think he’s losing his touch, last time we played I damn near emptied his wallet.”

That got your attention, and you sat up with a laugh. “You’re kidding? In speed chess?” Your cackles only grew when she gave a proud nod. “I can’t believe I missed it!”

Benny scoffed, pushing away from you to help set up the boards. “You hardly missed anything-“

“She kicked his ass, ,” Arthur chuckled, loosening the cap on his beer bottle. “Said she’d kick him the crotch too when he tried to argue with her.”

You raised your glass to Beth in commencement. “I knew there was a reason I liked you so much.”

“Another simultaneous?” Beth asked, noticing they were moving the boards onto the floor, she turned back to you. “Have you ever seen once of these?”

You shook your head dramatically, moving from your place on the sofa to the floor so you could sit right next to the action. “Nope! I mean I know what they are, but I’ve never actually seen one.”

She smirked, placing the clock at every board while the boys situated the pieces. “Well, you’re in for a treat, these are my specialty.”

You leaned forward, placing your elbows on your knees so could you watch every move. The speed of the game was something you had long gotten used to, but it never was any less impressive. You don’t know how anyone’s brain could go that fast, but watching the pieces fly around the board completely fascinated you. 

Beth really was everything the chess magazines said she was and maybe even more amazing in person. You found it hard to pull your gaze away from her hand, watching as she completely tore through the three boys pieces. Hilton and Arthur were the first to lose, knocking over there kings.

You got ready to settle in while she took on Benny, but not even a few moments later you watched him grimace and reluctantly fish his wallet from his pockets. 

“Wow,” You breathed out, looking over at Beth with a gaze that could only be described as positively starstruck. “I mean I knew you were good, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like that.”

Beth felt her face get a little warm, not used to such straight-forward praise. At least not since she was a child prodigy. She reached her hand up to brush her hair out of her eyes, and pulled her gaze away from you.

“I can do it again.”

Benny felt his eyebrow twitch, he was used to your praise being directed at him for the most part. You had grown up with him constantly talking about and challenging others to play chess. And when he started to make a name for himself he’d taken you along with him. Before your work took off, you had more time to see his games in person. But, even when you couldn’t physically be there, you always called when you saw the results in Chess Review or tuned in to one of the broadcasted matches.

He was the best in the States for a long time, so you had become especially hard to impress. He knew Beth was better him than by miles, but to finally have his title of best chess player you knew taken away made him feel scratchy. 

But he scoffed, straightening his back to try and get his focus back. “Not if I have anything to say about it, Harmon.” 

And so for about three more games, she absolutely crushed the three boys. You got closer to the boards each time, admiring Beth’s superhuman skill. It made you feel a little sting of pride, the girl was showing up three of most arrogant and skilled players you knew. 

“God,” You leaned back onto your elbows, sniffling a giggle when. “I would’ve given any amount of money to be here to see the faces on these boys when you did this the first time.”

Beth smirked, rounding up the pieces to put them away in their cases. “Me too, we could’ve gotten it all on camera.” 

You groaned. “Such a missed opportunity.”

You lolled your head over and saw Benny staring intently at the board, a deep frown on his face. You smiled, scooting over so you could lean all your weight against him. “Don’t look so sad, Bens. I’m sure you would’ve gotten her eventually.”

He laughed, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “That’s what you used to tell all the sorry losers I used to beat.”

You closed your eyes, settling into his side and sighing at his warmth. “You’re not a sorry loser. You’re the best chess player I know.”

“Still?”

“Hey now, I didn’t drag my ass to every one of your matches for decades for you to question my loyalty,” You teased, you opened your eyes and saw something on his wall. Nestled snug inside a frame was the first time he was on the cover of Chess Review.

“You remember when I took that?” You nodded towards it.

Benny smiled properly, his eyes getting a familiar shimmer. “Yes ma’am, I told them I wouldn’t be on the cover unless you got to take my photos,” He wrapped an arm around you. “Course if I had known it’d make you a hot shot photographer who had to go away all the time I might’ve kept my mouth shut.”

You smiled, reaching up to flick his forehead. “I’ve taken all your photos for decades” You made a sweeping notion with your hands to all the various magazines scattered around his apartment. “Even when we were kids, I think I earned my little adventures abroad”

Benny gave you a look, one you couldn’t quite place, but he kept your gaze for awhile. A small smile snuck up in the corner of his mouth before he looked down, strawberry blonde strands hiding him from your view.

“Well don’t stay away so long next time, yeah? I missed you.”

[tommyspeakycap]

Can we get baby little Shelby find a bunny and ask Tommy and John to take it home. And get scolded by Polly when they at home? 💕💕

more pre war Tommy fluff ;) 

Bunny

“Tommy!”

The dark haired man’s heart flies into his throat, his mind immediately kicking into gear as he drops the coin he was about to flip. He was deciding whether or not to buy a horse with a new inflow of cash they had recently gotten. That horse is lost the second he hears the shriek that came from somewhere behind him. The heavy boots on his feet make easy work of crushing through powdery snow, but give a very little to prevent him from tripping and slipping; although the fear coursing through him and his extreme haste may well have contributed to his somewhat uncoordinated limbs.

In the maybe a minute that it takes form Tommy to get from where he was to where he had traced his little sister to, a million and one thoughts race through his mind. He fears every worst case scenario his mind can conjure up and immediately blames himself for bringing you out to the country to play in some fresh snow with John and Finn. The air was much clearer out here and so too was Tommy’s mind. He could think, be free of the city smoke and the harsh environment that appears to be tacked to his work in the family business. There was so much pressure on the raven haired bookmaker to uphold his own personal morals while also living a notoriously immoral life. He tried to keep his hands clean, prevent himself from muddying the line between pointless violence and the necessary survival and protection of his family.

So going with his 5 year old little sister out to the county was something not uncommon for him. And the snow had only given him more reason to. He regretted that now.

“What-” Tommy wheezed out, unable to speak for lack of his breath after attempting to run through the deep, deep snow. “What’s happened,” he coughs, “Are you alri-“

“Tommy!” The little girl whispers harshly, waving her hands at him disapprovingly, “Shhhhh, you’ll scare it away!” Tommy snaps his mouth shut, instead opting to take the five year olds outstretched hand and crouch down as she instructs him. On her other side is John; crouched down with one arm around Finn to keep him still. “What are we looking at?” Tommy asks quietly, his neck craned to try and spot whatever his other siblings had noticed. 

“It’s a bunny, Tom. Look.” (y/n) points with her little hand and Tommy follows the general direction in which her hand is showing him. In doing so, he squints and finds his gaze falling upon a small white rabbit sitting picking a blade of grass that it had pulled through the snow. “They want to take it home.” John states, grinning at Tommy something like a Cheshire Cat because he knows for a fact that man isn't able to say no to the puppy dogs eyes of (y/n) and Finn Shelby when they truly wanted something.

“Hm, I don't think so.” He mumbles, trying to keep his eyes off of the disappointed face of his younger siblings. “You know Aunt Polly’ll go mad.” The second he does turn his head to see his youngest siblings gazing up at him in the desperate way he knows always works, he regrets it. “Please Tommy, pleeeease?” (y/n) begs, clasping her cold little hands together and pulling her most convincing puppy eyes Tommy might've ever seen. “Yeah Tommy, please? Pretty pretty please?” Finn joins in, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet in excitement and anticipation at the idea of having the little bunny as a pet. 

“Yeah Tom,” John sniggers, stubbing out his cigarette on the snowy ground. The elder brother puts on a pout to mimic (y/n) and Finn, not serving to make things any easier for Tommy as the youngest two weren't able to pick up on John’s teasing nature and sarcastic reiteration of their words. They took it as encouragement while Tommy knew John would be going home to Martha and his own kids, thus wouldn't have to be on the reviewing end of Polly’s temper. Tommy rolls his eyes and inhales deeply, thinking briefly about how angry Polly would be compared to how much it would make you and Finn giggle to have a pet even if only for a while before Tommy would free it back into the wild and tell some lie about a magic bunny farm. The kids chanting brought his mind back. “Please, please, please!” 

“Alright,” Tommy cuts them off, “Alright. But we’re not chasing it around all afternoon.”

--

How on earth Tommy ended up holding his little sister as he stood in the doorway of the Shelby family home kicking the snow off his boots while said little sister had his big trench coat wrapped around her and her smaller jacket used as a blanket for their new bunny rabbit friend, he will never know. He genuinely felt like if he had been outside for one more minute he would have actually frozen stiff, however it was always his top priority that his littlest sibling was as safe as she could be; so it was suffice to say the idea of her getting frostbite and slash or hypothermia after she insisted on wrapping the little rabbit in her own coat was less than appealing to Tommy, so she could keep his warm winter jacket as long as she desired.

“Right Finn, straight into the living room and not a peep to Pol alright?” Finn nods vigorously in a show of his determination to follow his brothers order as he places the wrapped up bunny into the young boys arms. Finn tries to run as unsuspiciously as he can past Polly in the kitchen to go through to the living room where only Ada sat, reading a book by the fire underneath a blanket. 

“Tommy?” The little girls voice draws an “Mhm?” from him as he battles to get her stiff winter boots off of her tiny cold feet. “What're we going to name him?” She enquires, her voice as inquisitive as any other curious 5 year old is. Tommy hums in thought, tapping (y/n)’s other foot in the way that he does that tells her to put her foot down and lift the other one for Tommy to pull that boot off too. There was a distinct routine between the two that had been established in the last five years of her life with Tommy acting as her primary caregiver.

“I don't know, love. Whatever you want to call him. Just remember to stay quiet about it yeah?” He looks up to see his little sister nodding firmly, placing her finger over her lips just as Tommy had done so many times when secrecy or silence was needed. 

“Alrighty then.” Tommy says, lifting both the pairs of boots easily in one hand and putting them by the other shoes. He moves his hands to under the small girls armpits and hoists her gently back up onto his hip as to avoid her stepping small puddles of water that had collected from the snow on her boots and his by the door. “Shall we go see what your brothers gotten up to with that-” 

“Jesus fucking Christ Tommy.” 

Both siblings turn their heads quickly to face Polly when they hear her speaking with her stern scolding tone turned on. Polly immediately notes how Tommy looks slightly secretive, like he was ready to start either lying or making some form excuse for something for which her niece looked rather guilty. Deer in the headlights kind of expression. “Look, Pol...” Tommy begins, but is interrupted by his aunt firmly shaking her head and marching towards him. 

“I’ve told you a million times Thomas. She’s five. That means you do still need to put her bloody hat on when you take her out in the cold but you don’t need to fucking carry her everywhere.” She huffs, pressing both her palms against (y/n)’s cold rosy cheeks, “Shes bloody freezing.” Her scolding tone never fails to make Tommy feels as though he’s still a young boy who’s been caught misbehaving by his aunt. However now he’s an adult with responsibility for his little sister and somehow, he ends up on the receiving end of that tone far more than the littlest member of the family ever will. Polly peels Tommy’s coat away off the little girl in his arms so she could hang it up to hopefully dry some before he next needs it and (y/n) doesn't mind not wearing her brothers jacket anymore, however the words that Polly speaks about putting her back down only serves to make her cling a little tighter subconsciously. 

“She's only little, Pol.” Tommy defends, “And we had long day, haven’t we sweetheart?” Polly wants to scoff when (y/n) nods her head and offers up that angel smile that wins the hearts of her entire family, but the woman can’t help but smile back and shake her head. “Well,” she huffs slightly, her hand reaching back up to the little girl to to brush the snow off (y/n)’s hair, “I think the very least your brother could do if he was going to have you out in the freezing cold all day would be to put a bloody hat on you.” 

The little girl giggles, flicking her eyes to Tommy to inspect his reaction to their aunts words. 

“Remembered.” He notes flippantly with a grin and Polly knows fully well that it was not remembered because putting a hat on top of that little girls soft locks of hair was something he had never once remembered to do without a reminder since she was merely a little bald baby. 

“Course.” She responds teasingly, “Dinner’s out soon.”

Tommy nods his head before Polly walks away in the direction of the kitchen again, where Tommy had no doubt Arthur is now lingering to pick off the scraps of dinner before its put out on the table for everyone else. 

“That was a close one, Tom.” The little girl on his hip whispers quietly, her wide eyes causing Tommy to chuckle heartily as he takes them both through to the living room to see what Finn and now likely Ada were doing with this rabbit. “Yes,” Tommy agrees, walking into the living room “It very much was. Hello Ada.” Ada immediately rolls her eyes at the sound of Tommy’s voice. 

“Pol’s going to kill you, you know.” She states, standing and crossing her arms firmly over her chest as Tommy sets his youngest sister down on the floor to run over to where Finn sat with the bunny close to the heat the fire was giving off. “Probably.” Tommy nods.

Ada turns away to wrap her blanket around her only sister, the one she had wished and prayed for since she had been merely a little girl herself. Tommy vividly remembers the many occasions when Ada was not only his youngest sibling, but also his only sister and recalls how unhappy she had been about those facts. Finn being born eased only one of those issues, but Ada rested a while for the time that Finn was a baby before again pestering their mother about wanting a little sister again. 

She had been ecstatic when (y/n) was born, and she had been besotted with that sweet little girl ever since. 

“You always forget to put her hat on, Thomas.” Ada chastises, the reprimand drawing a chuckle from her brother who takes a seat down on the couch and crosses one leg on top of the other. “So I’ve heard.” Tommy mumbles under his breath, just loud enough for her to hear and stretch out her leg to kick his when she too sat back down on the couch.

“Twat.” She hisses. 

It was Tommy’s turn to role his eyes at his sisters flippant comment, paying no mind to her words thrown in a light tease that he knew she only ever half meant.

“That’s not very nice, Ada.” 

(y/n) doesn't do so much as turn around when she chides those words in dismay to Ada’s insult aimed at her Tom. There was no hiding how the little girl adored Tommy. “Exactly Ada,” Tommy grins widely, giving Ada the biggest shit eating look he can muster as he tried not to laugh, “And that’s why you're my favourite, aren't you my love?” The 5 year old simply nods her head in response to her brothers words before turning straight back to play with her new pet. 

“Well, she might be your favourite but you certainly won’t be Polly’s once she sees you’ve brought that home. She’ll go mad.” Ada nods her head in the direction of the fluffy white animal in their living room. Tommy shrugs his shoulders indifferently, “They're happy though, aren't they? and quiet. Worth it really.” 

Ada knew very well that Tommy was right, although it was likely that she wouldn't even think to much on that in his vicinity, just incase he even got the sensation that she was thinking he was in the right. They’ve got a big family and a lot of hard work had to go into making business run smoothly to provide for everyone. The younger kids can sometimes go amiss to the elder siblings on particularly busy days. Sometimes playing and talking to them gets overlooked or their clothes go on back to front because everyone forgot they sometimes still needed help with things like that. 

So giving them the simple pleasure of almost a normal childhood - not one living with the Shelby name and subsequently the future of the Peaky Blinders tacked to them - by letting them a pet that they can look after and love on for a few days at least was something Tommy was willing to grin and bare the wrath of Polly Gray for. 

He was a sucker for that little girl, so when she’s happy there are few things in the world Thomas Shelby wouldn't endure to keep it that way. 

[daydream-believin]

MERLIN’S APPRENTICE & MERLIN’S CHAMPION || trollhunters

warnings: swearing

a/n: if rott gave me anything it gave me this idea

I KNOW I SAID “JUICY” BUT REALLY THAT WAS JUST THE ANGST POTENTIAL,, THAT IM NOT INDULGING IN THIS POST IM SORRY LMAO

OKAY WHAT IM REALLY TALKING BOUT HERE IS A GOOD MERLIN/ARTHUR BUT IT ACTUALLY WORKS

no sorry i haven’t seen bbc merlin don’t come for me i’m ignorant

OKAY SO

we know douxie kept an eye on the human trollhunter and co

but douxie’s really having a hard time convincing himself he’s just doing his job

he’s actually enjoying this a little too much despite how boring staying in the shadows is

and he’s kinda worried?

so he’s got this bright idea: you know what would better help him keeps tabs? if he befriends this person

and so he does

fuck merlin’s shadows

sod the rules

ofc he’s very up front about knowing they’re the trollhunter and that he’s merlin’s apprentice

we wouldn’t want that to become a huge festering secret that eats douxie from the inside out until the inevitable reveal when merlin calls them both to help with the arcane order and they realize they’ve both been lying to each other’s faces for months/years and neither of them know if they could ever trust the other again, right? — phew *catches breath*

but before you know it, mr. casperan and mx. trollhunter are best friends

he’s basically the toby to your jim

and you’re very happy to have a best friend like douxie

he understands that monster hunting hustle

he’s the only person you can vent to and actually talk about what’s going on without sounding like a loon

and douxie likes being able to tell someone all his frustrations with merlin, since you’re also in that boat with him

you spar sometimes. it’s fun, but you’re very careful not to accidentally hurt your friend (he’s extremely careful not to hurt you or wound your ego by effortlessly wiping you out)

ofc, there’s the occasional, brushing of hands, faces a little too close together, accidentally winding up on top of one another, purposefully winding up on top of one another 👀 you know how sparring be

you and douxie are a duo. a duo who have become trollmarket’s resident troublemakers, to vendel’s exasperation

you guys tease each other a lot

you do a lot of stupid shit, cause hey, now you have magic armor and a magic sword and a magic best friend, did you think you wouldn’t get up to some shenanigans?

douxie is your impulse control and he’s not a very good one, as he’s just as bad

truthfully archie has the brain cell

and pranks? gods the pranks. you two are always either pranking each other or you’re teaming up to prank some other troll who said smth mean to you in the pub. vendel had to personally put a stop to it (read: chew you out)

doux thinks the world of you tho, you’re such a noble knight, and likes to tell people about how you’re a cinnamon roll, so innocent, so pure

and then they meet you and you directly contradict those statements

trollhunter: i’ve never done anything wrong in my life, ever

douxie: i know this and i love you

(spoiler: you’ve done lots and lots of wrong)

doux spends an awful lot of time slinking around trollmarket now, and he’s in the know for everything that’s happening

(no more being kept in the dark for this wizard apprentice)

and doux knows merlin won’t completely approve of this, but hey, it’s not like he’s helping and thus directly disobeying

really, he’s not helping you at all, it’s really fucking annoying

okay so mayyybe the occasional healing spell. you’ve got those puppy dog eyes he can’t say no to

but you understand his sense of duty, or whatever it is that drives a follower, technically being a follower of merlin yourself

you respect the old geezer (as you have not been turned into a half-troll yet) as a wise mythical figure, and as your best friend’s father

and what a perfect match you are for each other, champion and apprentice, mutually being screwed over by a guy you both think has all the answers

you and douxie help each other grow in your self-worths, that you two are more than the chances merlin has given to you

unfortunately, mortifyingly, you have caught feelings.

douxie has also caught feelings, and is saying nothing yep you have enough on your plate without him putting this on you so he’ll just quietly pine and suffer don’t mind him choking to death in the corner when you take off your helmet and throw back your hair

y’all’s problem really starts manifesting itself as protectiveness. you are really protective of your wizard and he is really protective of his knight

lots of things said that are Not What Friends Say but neither of you really want to be the one to point that out

lots and lots of i love yous that slowly get more and more serious until it’s not exactly platonic anymore

and it’s just really nice to have someone to get coffee (or your favored hot drink) with at four in the morning after a tussle with a troll

and that’s basically how you and douxie spend the bulk of trollhunters, just vibing

as much as you can vibe, with all the changelings and shit trying to murder you all the time

then merlin wakes up and shakes up your world

you are aware of your impending doom

you’re aware of it

merlin keeps looking you up and down like he’s mentally making up the measurements of your coffin

and tbh the idea of fighting gunmar freaks you tf out

and you’re supposed to win that fight?

gods

you’re preparing for your nightmares coming true soon

truthfully you knew your fucking job had a 100% mortality rate

you don’t want to die with regrets

so

you spill

you spill all the things you’d wanted to tell him and how much he means to you and that you couldn’t bear it if you were a goner before he knew

miraculously, douxie feels the same and tells you all the things he’d been holding back and and what you mean to him and how much he wants to protect you, that you’re gonna make it, if he had anything to say about it

and everything is perfect for one night

now you have a real reason to win

not that saving humanity isn’t a big responsibility on your shoulders and definitely A Reason

but knowing douxie’s waiting for you, for the life you’ll build together after this, the peace you’ll both have, it’s absolutely a big motivation to give your all and come out victorious and survive

hahaha loser you don’t know about the arcane order

and then merlin uses your microwave to cook a weird potion

you and merlin are alone in the house, but there’s no real mind games necessary. you may have grown past thinking he was a god, but in the end, you’re still a follower of merlin, and if merlin thinks this could give you an edge, well, who are you to question his methods

doesn’t mean you aren’t nervous as your master hands you the bottle

yet you don’t even hesitate to drown yourself in the black abyss of the tub

whatever it takes amirite?

and now you’re a half-troll

a sexy half-troll, if you do say so yourself

yeah, no ‘i’m a monster’ angst here, you’re loving the power-up

you’ve got to treat it like a cool new power-up or you will cry actually tbh i lied about the no-angst thing a new body is disorienting

your only real concern is douxie

not concerned for long tho, he sees you and the first thing out of his mouth is “nuclear!”

and he senses your concern, so he does go out of his way to assure you that boy, girl, enby, or half-troll, he loves you for your soul, darling

also again half-troll! you is hot as hell so he’s not really losing anything here 👀

he makes sure you know that too, not to let any insecurities fester

him raking his eyes up and down you gives the opposite effect of the dread merlin sent down your spine doing it

anyways,,,

doux helps out a lot more in the eternal night

like helps merlin re-defeat and re-seal morgana

he’ll do it again in few weeks but with a bigger role you know, this is practice

thank merlin for that edge YOU ARE THE LAST TROLLHUNTER YOU ARE VICTORIOUS YOUVE GOT GUNMARS HEAD IN YOUR HANDS HAHAHA

but now you’ve got to go to new jersey

douxie’s been instructed to stay in arcadia tho 🥺

it’s okay, you’ll see each other again soon

sooner than you realize

and until then you talk each other to sleep every night over the phone <3

merlins glad, actually. he’s glad hisirdoux found some solace. even if it is with the lamb he was raising for the slaughter. maybe things will go okay for them. the time map suggests it might be so

hisirdoux may have done things in a way he didn’t quite approve of, but that’s because he’s becoming his own wizard, and merlin is proud

[ttuesday]

Hey, my 🤏🇮🇪👻,

I am very much not feeling well today. Its almost like flu but less severe though my body feel like its been by an artic 🥺

Canoo do my 🤏🐭🤠 looking after a reader who feels so awful, they're wrapped up in bed, but insisting to the camp chores

🤏🐭🤠 that she fj e.

Word Count: ~1,580

~No smut unfortunately :( just some angst and floof~

You first felt awful in the early morning. Your head felt heavy, you couldn't concentrate on anything and you got that strange shiver up your spine. It was like you had a dark cloud that followed you wherever you went in camp. 

Your energy had dwindled significantly before you even had your morning coffee. As you trudged around to start your daily chores, you couldn't help but feel like you were dragging around some kind of invisible ball and chain. 

Having the day off seemed like a nice idea but you knew that would end up doing more harm than good. If you didn't do your chores then Tilly or Mary-Beth would have to do the extra work which would make their day worse.

You settled on the best option being to continue with your day as normal as possible. You saw the likes of Arthur and Lenny give you slightly concerned looks as you carried some hay over to the horses, using a lot more effort than you usually did. But it was Micah who was the first to comment on your sick demeanour.

"Darlin" he drawled, coming up behind you as you finally dropped the hay. Once Micah got a good look at you, he furrowed his brow. "Ya look like death" he pointed out. "Thanks for the reminder" you scoffed, turning on your heels and walking away.

You and Micah had been friends for a long time. When you first met him, you could barely stand to be around him but slowly (kinda like a fungus) he began to grow on you. There was no doubt in your mind that Micah was always going to be tough to get along with but somehow, ye made it work. 

"You ain't sick, are ya?" Micah asked, jogging a little to catch up with you. "No I'm not sick, I'm fine" you huffed, feeling another chill crawl up the back of your neck.

Micah stayed quiet for a moment. You didn't look at him so you missed how Micah questionably raised his eyebrow when you said that. He waited a few seconds before commenting "Ya don't look fine". 

"Does it really matter if I'm fine or not?" you snapped, your voice harsher than you expected "Just leave me get back to work, go annoy someone else". 

Micah slowed his pace and let you continue on alone, knowing it's best not to push you when you're like this.

Surprisingly, Micah didn't want to argue with you. Micah had yet to figure out why, but for some reason he didn't want you to dislike him. Maybe it was because you were the only gang member that actually put in the effort to befriend him.

Whenever Micah thought too much about it, he got this fluttering feeling in his chest so he quickly dismissed his thoughts.

---

The next time Micah saw you was just after noon. Thankfully, you were no longer hauling hay around but you were helping Pearson prepare the stew.

Micah knew he wasn't the most hygienic person but he wasn't too sure if it was a great idea to have you near food. Sighing to himself, he strolled over to you and leaned against the table. 

You saw him walking over but decided to ignore him. You were in no mood to deal with him. Micah stayed quiet for a few seconds, watching as you chopped up a potato. You tried to ignore him, scrunching up your nose a little as you focused on your work.

"Try not to get any snot on the veg" Micah observed. Your grip on the knife tightened but you were determined to ignore him.

You've seen Micah pick at people and make comments in the hopes of getting a rise out of them. From seeing these previous interactions, you came to the conclusion that ignoring Micah would be the best way to get him to leave.

Micah wouldn't admit how annoying it was that you didn't reply but he had another plan in mind. "Pearson" he called out, waving his hand and practically ordering the man over. Glancing over to Micah, you gave him a confused look as Pearson made his way over.

"Now I ain't no chef," Micah raised his hands slightly "but I don't think having someone that's sick handling the food is a good idea".

Pearson's eyes went wide as he looked from Micah to you. "Y-you're sick?" he asked, his tone frantic "I'm trying to run a real kitchen here and you're sick?". "I'm not sick!" you protested "I'm just tired".

Pearson dragged his hand down his face as he muttered "Oh my god, you're sick".

Huffing, Pearson shooed you away from the food "Go on, get away from here and go relax for a while". You reluctantly moved away from the food, making sure to give Micah a death stare as you did. 

You marched off but before you could get far, you saw Micah near you again. "Oh just go away, Micah" you scowled "have you not ruined enough for me?".

"You're sick, doll" he repeated again, hoping that maybe this time you'd accept it.

"No I'm not," you denied "the only thing I'm sick of is you and you're... you...". That cloudy feeling in your head tightened and you suddenly lost your train of thought. You closed your eyes to try and regain your focus but instead you swayed, your feet stumbling slightly. 

"Woah there" Micah put his hands on your back and by your ribs to steady you.

You wanted to push him away, tell him that you were fine but deep down you knew that you weren’t. A wave of tiredness washed over you and you leaned into Micah. Every part of you was either fragile or aching. "You think you can walk to my tent?" Micah asked "I think you oughta lie down for a while". 

You attempted to answer him but all you could do was groan and nod your head. Micah held on to you as ye both shuffled over to his tent together. You continued to lean against him, your eyes closed as the hot southern sun glared down on you.

"Here," he muttered, taking off his white hat and hastily plonking it on your head "don't want you getting heat stroke too".

When you got to the tent, Micah guided you down to his bed before closing the flaps of the tent. Being out of the sun made you feel a little better, though your body continued to ache whenever you moved. “How the hell did you get a tent?” you mumbled, glancing around with tired eyes.

Micah chuckled, out of all the questions you could’ve asked, he didn’t expect that one. “Cause I’m a hard worker” he replied as if the answer was that obvious. You scoffed but even that seemed to make your head feel worse.

You scrunched up your face, trying your best to tolerate the pain. “You think it’s some kinda virus?” Micah questioned, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Could be the flu,” you groaned “or else I’ve overworked myself lately and this is my body’s way of thanking me”. 

“Relax here for a while, take a nap and don’t get sick in my tent” he ordered “and stop pushing yourself, I got a robbery coming up that I’m already stressed about so I don’t need to be worrying about you too”. That last part wasn’t suppose to come out.

Micah tried to stop himself saying it but he only realised he said it afterwards. That funny feeling in his chest returned as his eyes scanned your face for your reaction. 

“Awh and there I was thinking the infamous Micah Bell didn’t care about anyone but himself” you giggled, easing the sudden dread he felt. He felt strangely thankful that you decided to giggle about it instead of looking at him in disgust. Micah always liked your laugh too so it was nice to hear it... but he’d never tell you that.

“Shut it,” he feigned annoyance, taking his hat from your hat and placing it down lower on your face to cover your eyes “now get some sleep”. 

Micah stood as you joked “Aren’t you going to tuck me in?”. 

“Don’t push your luck” he huffed. Micah glanced behind his shoulder as he walked to the entrance of his tent, watching as you snuggled into his pillow. Usually he gets frustrated with himself whenever he realises you’re making him smile but this time he decided to let it slide.

Just before Micah could step out of the tent, you gently called to him “Micah?”. He stopped, turning back to look at you. “Thank you for taking care of me” you peeked out from his hat, a shy smile on your face. 

Damn you and your kindness. There was that fluttery feeling in his chest yet again. It took Micah a few seconds to reply. He was too busy trying to control the warm sensation in his cheeks to think of a quick witted response. Clearing his throat, Micah looked down at the ground “Sure, you’re welcome”.

As you drifted off to sleep in his bed, Micah sat by the campfire. He made sure to have a clear view of his tent in case you got up or needed any help before he let out a long sigh.

Micah knew it was time he sorted through all of these feelings you gave him. He had ignored them for too long and now it was finally time to confront that fluttery feeling in his chest.