#there are other situations that arthur helps other people too

[theonottsbxtch]

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

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

LOVE ME, BABY | CL16

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

jade_distinguinn

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look who's finally come to visit @/yourusername

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userone: facecard never declines for both of them

usertwo: i need them both

userthree: omg finally getting to see yn in monaco

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

jade_distinguinn: enough.

userfour: they're so pretty

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

yourusername: you had work??

jade_distinguinn: i tried to pay you to come??

yourbestfriend: shh don't expose me.

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

monaco casino, arthur's birthday

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then, there you were.

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

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

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

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

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

“No, I don’t think I have.”

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

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

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

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

You raised an eyebrow. “Testing?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Arthur looked puzzled. “Her? Really?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But there was no way around it.

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

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

charles_leclerc

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celebrating 24!

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userone: my fav grid siblings

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

arthurleclerc: merci frero

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

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

arthurleclerc: @/charles_leclerc eyes

jadedistinguinn: what?

arthurleclerc: nothing mon amour

userfour: i wish i was there

userfive: happy birthday arthur!

yourusername: oh god i look awful

charles_leclerc: i think you look quite the opposite actually

texts between jade and arthur

jade's apartment

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

yourusername

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dog sitting duties

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userone: omg is that leo??

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

userthree: is that charles' place??

arthurleclerc: my nephew is so adorable

userfour: i want to be her so god damn bad

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

jade_distinguinn: cutest ball of fluff ever

usersix: parents?

charles_leclerc: thank you for this

charles' apartment, late at night

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

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

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

No response.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

text between yn and jade

charles' apartment, following morning

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

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

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

Oh no. Did Charles put me here?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

yourusername

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"nothing fancy" and "just eggs and toast"

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userone: LEOOOOOOO

usertwo: that last pic gIRL??

jade_distinguinn: oh no the charles fans found you

yourusername: fuck

jade_distinguinn: good luck

userthree: who is she omg?

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

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

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

yourusername: THERE IS WORSE??!?

userfive: she is gorgeous

usersix: idk who i want more

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

yourusername: are you inviting me to dinner?

charles_leclerc: only if you say yes

yourusername: yes

userseven: WE ARE WITNISSING HISTORY

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charles' apartment, one night

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You blink, surprised. “What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes,” you whisper.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

yourusername

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

one more week won't hurt, right?

*tap to load more comments*

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

usertwo: is leo about to have a mother?

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

jade_distinguinn: @/arthurleclerc mission acomplished?

arthurleclerc: yes boss 🫡

yourusername: huh??

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

charles_leclerc: rumour is you can transfer to UoMonaco

yourusername: charlie you know i can't 🤭

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

usersix: i am sick🤧

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

the end.

[flying-fangirls]

Not to be an English major, but my genuine favorite part of Malevolent is how it handles its themes. Overall Malevolent tackles such profound and interesting ideas to chew on, but it's specifically the approach it takes to those ideas that really gets me going.

For example, one of the major themes across several seasons and characters is identity. The podcast asks pretty standard questions like "How do you define yourself?" and "How do others define you?" But it doesn't choose to stop there! It constantly expands on that idea, and it also asks things like "Which of those definitions is the 'real' you?" and "Are any of them right, are any of them wrong?" and "Is there even a singular definitive version of you?"

Malevolent works out from one idea and poses all these rich lines of discussion and questioning, and then just. Doesn't provide an answer! Or, at least, not a single, one-size-fits-all answer. Instead, it gives us multiple possibilities:

John's arc tells us that your identity is what you make— what you say, what you decide— and no one else's definition of you matters. Arthur's arc tells us that you can get stuck in a rigid, self-deprecating personal identity, so you need others' perspectives to help you see and love the real "you." Larson's story tells us that you do not have the right to selectively accept/deny parts of your identity and actions, and that others can see the whole of "you" whether or not you take accountability for it. Noel's story tells us that you can choose what parts of your past define you, and that leaving behind all the other versions of yourself can be beautiful and empowering. Kayne's story tells us that leaving behind other versions of yourself is akin to murder, killing off the pieces that you don't like and pretending like you've evolved past your own self. Yellow's arc tells us that your identity is fluid and can easily be influenced or manipulated by what others tell you, and by that point you've changed your own self-definition to something entirely new that can be just as true or untrue as the old you.

With all of these characters and with every other character throughout the show, we get a unique answer to the question "What is identity?" And if you look further at all the characters, you can break down their different arcs over the seasons and find even more answers just within that one character's development and story. And some of the answers we get correspond, and some of them contradict, and none of them are the right answer, and all of them are the right answer.

Malevolent takes one idea, and then it crafts an incredibly nuanced and humanistic exploration of said idea that adapts with respect to whatever situation or character it is applied to. And it uses this approach with all of its themes: identity, morality, guilt, grief, love, hope, etc.

Malevolent knows that life is messy, that people are complicated and contradictory and diverse and ever-changing, that no part of the universe or humanity can ever be explained or defined in a simple manner. Malevolent knows all that, and it wants to help us understand that too.

Malevolent shows us that nothing can ever be easily understood or answered, and it shows us that that fact is beautiful.

[ramblings-of-a-chaotic-neutral]

Hello everyone! I'm back with another Merlin au! This time featuring a role reversal and Merlin getting yet another job that he never wanted! Enjoy! :D

EDIT: You can find part 2 of this au here!

This au takes places during the season four finale, when Arthur gives up on being king and tells Merlin that Camelot will have to find itself another king if they defeat Morgana, since Arthur no longer feels worthy of being king.

So, Merlin leads him to Excalibur and helps him draw the sword from the stone in front of the people of Camelot, successfully convincing Arthur to believe in himself and his place as a good leader.

That night though, after Arthur confided in Merlin about his worries of Morgana's magic being too powerful for them to fight, Merlin sneaks back into the castle in dosguise as Dragoon and plants the curse that will strip Morgana of her powers the next day. However, he gets caught in the act by Morgana, who of course immediately starts attacking her sworn enemy.

Merlin is put on the defensive, putting all of his efforts into shielding himself from Morgana's attacks and fending off Helios and his fighters at the same time. After a few minutes, his spell that disguises him as Dragoon fades, as all of his magical strength is poured into his fight against Morgana.

Merlin can see the exact moment that Morgana's eyes widened with shock, and it's then that he realizes what had just happened: Morgana knew exactly who he was now.

After the moment of shocked silence passed, Morgana started cackling, finding the situation hilarious. She taunts Merlin, asking if Arthur knows what he is. Upon seeing Merlin wince, Morgana offers him a deal: join her side and help eliminate Arthur, or he can burn in the courtyard like so many of their magical bretheren. Morgana sneers at him that he'd better accept her deal, as he'd burn on a pyre at Arthur's hand even if Merlin kept fighting at his side.

Merlin, predictably, rejects her offer and continues his attack, rebuking Morgana for her cruelty and violence. At this point, their fight had migrated all the way out into the courtyard, which gave them more space to use more destructive spells against each other.

Morgana hurled fireballs at Merlin, and he responded by throwing blinding arcs of lightning at her. Morgana managed to barely sheild herself against the attack, but Helios and his men weren't as lucky and were blasted away in the attack, all of them fatally wounded.

Seeing that her backup was now gone, Morgana redoubled her attacks, franticly throwing spell after spell at her prophesied killer. As Merlin desperately shielded himself, he had an idea. The very thought of it caused guilt to well up in his throat, but he saw no other way to survive.

As Morgana renewed her constant barrage of spells, Merlin didn't defend himself with a shielding spell. Instead, he powered all of his already diminished power into a redirection spell, attempting to throw Morgana's spells back at her.

Sure enough, as soon as Morgana's spells collided with Merlin's redirection spell, they were launched right back at Morgana, who didn't have enough time to dodge or shield herself from the blast.

Morgana's own spells hit her with all of the killing intent that she had aimed at her mortal enemy, and her spells accomplished their goal: killing their target.

Merlin both shocked and horrified as he looked down at Morgana's body, as he didn't intend to kill her, only subdue her so that she could stand trail and face Arthur's justice. However, it seemed like Morgana's own murderous fury had been too strong for even herself, ultimately bringing about her demise.

As Merlin silently held onto Morgana's fallen body, just as he did on that fateful day when he poisoned her and pushed her into Morgause's clutches, he saw the run begin to rise over the castle. He quickly jolted up at the sight, his heart leaping with panic, since he needed to be back in Arthur's camp in the woods before anyone noticed that he was gone!

Merlin ran out of the castle, quickly finding his way back to Arthur's camp, and planning out what he was going to say to hopefully explain his absence. Maybe picking medicinal herbs in preparation to help anyone wounded during the upcoming battle? That would work!

But... there wasn't going to be a battle, since all of their enemies were now lying dead in the castle's courtyard, unknown to all of the fighters preparing to give their lives to retake their home. Shit, everyone would start looking for answers the moment they set foot in the castle, how was Merlin supposed to throw them off his trail?!

Merlin was so preoccupied with these thoughts swirling around his head as he ran back to the hidden camp that he didn't notice the many eyes peering at him from a certain window in the castle, with the men inside having seen everything that had just transpired.

(When Morgana had taken over the castle, she had locked all of the lords and older knights on Arthur's council in an old meeting room, planning to execute them later. She didn't plan to rule with some useless council to hold her back after all!

It was truly an unfortunate coincidence for Merlin that the particular room that Morgana had locked them in had a perfect view of the courtyard below and the unexpected battle that took place on it that night.)

Merlin, luckily, managed to make it back to the camp just as Arthur was waking up, and no one else seemed to have noticed that he was missing that morning, too preoccupied by preparations for the upcoming battle. Merlin breathed a sigh of relief when no one commented on him being gone. Maybe this would actually go smoothly!

That morning, Arthur gave a rousing and inspiring speech to his people, ready to lead them into battle. With the light shining on him and Excalibur by his side, his people ready to follow him to the ends of the earth, Arthur looked every bit the king Merlin imagined he could be. Looking at Arthur, King Arthur, Merlin's heart swelled with pride and hope. And if he had to blink some tears from his eyes, then no one commented on it.

Still, the fact that Arthur was leading them into a battle that was already won had Merlin shifting his feet with nervousness. How would Arthur react? Would anyone discover that Merlin was behind Morgana's defeat? Would they question their unexpected boon, or would they simply accept it with relief?

Merlin's anxiety heightened with each step the army took towards Camelot. While the army, along with Tristan and Isolde, were going to try to storm the castle from the main entrance (which Merlin knew would be easier than anticipated, since Morgana's army was dead), a smaller group comprised of Arthur, Merlin, Gwen, Percival, and Leon were sent through the underground tunnels to launch a sneak attack on Morgana.

Merlin just put on a stoic face and nodded as Arthur outlined the plan, still trying to figure out how he could avoid suspicion after the army of Camelot realizes that Morgana and her army were already defeated.

Their small group easily makes to through the tunnels, which puts Arthur more on edge, as Merlin can see that he thinks that it's almost too easy, like they're walking into a trap. Merlin wished that he could allay Arthur's fears, but he couldn't at the moment, not without revealing that he knows too much.

When they reached the dungeons, Leon and Percival separated from them to go free Gwaine, Elyan, Gaius, and the other prisoners held down there. Meanwhile, Arthur, Merlin, and Gwen headed for the throne room, with two of them tense and ready for a fight against a formidable sorceress, and one of them tense under the weight of his own secrets.

When Arthur burst open the doors to the throne room, adrenaline rushing and ready for a fight to the death, he was ready to see his sister on his throne, mocking and tormenting him. Instead, to his shock, he found his entire council inside, alive and well and loudly squabbling amongst themselves.

Upon hearing the doors to the throne room crash open, they all froze and grew silent, turning to look at who was there. They all relaxed upon seeing Arthur, but tensed when they saw who was standing right behind him.

"I'm glad to see that all of you are unharmed, but what are you all doing here? Where is Morgana! We must defeat her at once!"

The lords' eyes grew wide as they started murmuring amongst each other in sharp tones. Finally, Geoffrey was pushed forward, seemingly appointed as the voice of the group.

"Welcome back, my lord. It is truly a blessing to see you back unharmed. However, we do bring troubling news to you. It is with a heavy heart that we inform you of these changes."

Geoffrey trailed off from there, his face grim. He seemed reluctant to say anything further, much to Arthur's frustration and horror.

"What do you mean news? What has happened? What has Morgana done?!"

Geoffrey sighed, looking every bit of his numerous years. After another tense moment of silence, Geoffrey spoke again.

"Sire, we wish to inform you that Morgana Pendragon is dead. She was killed in a battle in the early hours this morning. Her body still lies where she met her demise in the courtyard."

While Merlin grew pale and tensed even more, both Arthur and Gwen stumbled backwards with shock at Geoffrey's words, the breath knocked out of them both by the unbelievable news.

"What- How did this happen?! Who could have... how is that even possible?!"

"We," Geoffrey replied as he gestured to all of the lords and council members standing around him, "witnessed all of it from a room overlooking the courtyard. It was an unbelievable sight, one that I myself might not believe if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes. A lone sorcerer called lightning down on all of Morgana's soldiers, killing them in an instant. He then proceeded to battle Morgana to the death in a duel of magic. He managed to defeat her before leaving the citadel in a hurry."

Arthur stood, frozen, as Geoffrey's words swirled around his head, almost comprehendible. Many conflicting feelings- relief, grief, shock, horror- welled up in his chest, almost choking him with their strength. He was paralyzed as he grieved his sister, celebrated his kingdom's safety from her wrath, and feared this new, more powerful sorcerer who had single-handedly defeated his sister, the most power magic user Camelot had ever seen.

Merlin, meanwhile, stood completely still, his heart beating as fast as a rabbit on the run from a wolf. They saw him, they all did. But it was dark, so maybe they didn't recognize him? Merlin hoped with everything he had that they hadn't recognized him during the battle.

Grimacing again, Geoffrey cleared his throat, apparently having more to say. Merlin's heart leapt with terror as Geoffrey opened his mouth once more.

"Sire, it is with great remorse that I must inform you of this, but there is more news. As is law, Morgana took the throne through right of conquest, as your father did in his time. Morgana was, in the time she ruled Camelot with her forces, the rightful ruler in the eyes of the law.

However, this sorcerer defeated the the ruler of Camelot and conquered her entire army. By the laws of Camelot and by the right of conquest, he is the rightful king of Camelot. Therefore, unfortunately, unless you formally challenge him for the throne and win, we cannot reinstate you as king at this time."

If it was possible, Merlin became even paler at those words, feeling woozy and sick to his stomach. Had he just sabotaged his own efforts?! He did all of this to keep Arthur as king, not undermine him!

Gwen gave a loud gasp, a look of horror on her face, while Arthur's jaw clenched in anger and frustration.

"This is preposterous! Whoever that sorcerer is, he fled! He cannot become king, nor can I challenge him, if he isn't even here!"

Merlin took a staggered step back as Geoffrey's eyes landed on him. He had the grasp at the pillar next to him for support under the old librarian's gaze. He knew.

"The sorcerer did leave after his battle with Morgana, as I said earlier, but I'm afraid that he is here right now, sire."

Merlin felt like he was about to faint. Oh gods, was he about to throw up?

Arthur's entire body jolted to attention, his grip tightening on the sword as he registered Geoffrey's words. He forced one strained word passed his clenched jaw.

"Where?"

Geoffrey motioned one of the other lords on the council forward, and he stepped forward with the coronation crown and royal seal resting on a pillow.

"The council and all of Camelot's vassal lords feel that it is in Camelot's best interest to acknowledge and formalize the sorcerer's claim to the throne at this time, as we are yet unaware of his true power or the danger he poses should he decide to attack. We unanimously agree that it would be best to not give him any reason to retaliate against Camelot, as we fear he might if we do not acknowledge his rightful conquest."

Arthur's face fell, his expression ashen and devastated. His own council had turned against him? They had chosen this unknown and potentially dangerous sorcerer to place the lives of his people in?

Arthur, Gwen, and Merlin were all frozen with shock and dread, looking on in horror as Geoffrey took the coronation crown and royal seal from their cushion and stepped forward, approaching the paralyzed trio.

"It is with a heavy heart that we crown the new king of Camelot, ascended through the right of conquest over Morgana Pendragon."

Geoffrey moved past Arthur, looking at first like he was heading for the door behind them, but Merlin knew who he was actually walking towards. Merlin flinched backwards, trying to get away from Geoffrey and the crown he was carrying, but he was stopped by the hard stone wall behind his back.

"We, the council and lords of Camelot, do declare our fealty to the slayer of Morgana, the prophesized sorcerer known as Emrys, King Merlin!"

Geoffrey punctuated his announcement by placing the crown on a very pale Merlin's head, much to the horror of Arthur and Gwen.

And it was at that moment that Merlin did faint.

That's all from this au for now! Let me know what you think of it and if you'd like a continuation of this au! Until next time!

And, as always, thank you for reading through my ramblings! :D

[that-nerd-who-writes-fanfiction]

Sometimes I think Merlin and Arthur started the sacrificing each other to save each other shit too soon into the series.

Then I remember this scene exists.

(Screenshot from S1E2 - Valiant of Merlin bringing the snake head from the enchanted shield to Arthur to warn him that he’s in danger.)

They moved quickly, but they have a damn good reason for it. I honestly can’t say I blame them.

Merlin learned two things about his destiny with Arthur from this episode:

The first is that Arthur will listen when it matters, but his father’s influence runs deep. Arthur cares more about people’s opinion of him than anything else because he’s been groomed his entire life to become the future king, and Uther is tyrannical in his power so he believes that his is the only way to rule. Arthur picked up bad habits, so while he’s still young and learning what kind of man and leader he wants to be, he could still go either way and Merlin can’t yet trust him to always make the best decisions. (Proved in S1E3 when he enlists Morgana to talk to Arthur about the Afank)

The second thing is that Arthur believes in the systems that Merlin knows to be broken, so he learns it’s better to come to Arthur with results rather than warnings, because Arthur believes the systems in place can help, even in situations where they’d be more of a liability.

Both points are then enforced through season 1 and reinforced by Merlin himself in season 2 onwards.

Arthur learned that Merlin is loyal and honest to a fault, but because of the lifelong grooming as royalty and someone who’s supposed to be “above all others” - as proven when Uther says “his life isn’t worthless, it’s worth less than yours” to Arthur in S1E4 when he denies Arthur a group of men to take to save Merlin - it takes a while for it to really sink in that someone can be loyal and genuinely like him without ulterior motive, and when he finally does recognise that Merlin’s devotion is genuinely sincere, he pushes Merlin away (S2E1) in an attempt to keep himself from getting too close and then hurt by what his father would call his own naivety, rather than just admitting that sometimes people are just bad people who do bad things.

He then subconsciously or not learns that Merlin not being by his side is bad so he keeps him around but at a distance with walls built to protect himself. I can go more into that another time. Uther scapegoats Arthur for a lot, and even acknowledges that he’s a bad parent a few times but never does anything to change the behaviour so his apologies aren’t worth shit. Add that to the genocidal tyranny, and you’ve got a fascinating character who somehow isn’t the main villain of the story. I hate him, he should go play hop scotch on quick sand, but damn is he interesting from a writing/analytical standpoint.

So, yeah, they moved from “if anyone wants to kill him, they can go right ahead. I’ll give them a hand” (-Merlin S1E1) to “…Certain death. Few who have crossed the mountains in search of the Mortaeus Flower have made it back alive” “Sounds like fun” (-Gaius and Arthur S1E4) pretty quickly, but it makes sense when you think about why they moved that quickly with context of how they interact and their (assumed) past experiences.

[weasleysbliss]

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐰 | 𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐲

pairing: ron weasley x fem!reader

summary: while spending the summer at the burrow, you and ron are forced to share a space. between playful bickering and quiet moments, you realize love might be closer than you thought.

word count: 2k

➽────────────────❥

At last, exams were over, school was done, and you couldn’t wait to start your summer break. But this summer wouldn’t be like the others.

Your parents were traveling abroad, leaving you home alone. However, they didn’t trust you to spend two months on your own, so they insisted you stay at one of your friends’ houses for the time being.

Ginny was kind enough to consider the idea and propose it to her mom. Thankfully, Molly Weasley was more than happy to take you in. She already had seven children of her own, so having her only daughter's friend stay for two months was no trouble.

A few hours before you moved in, your nerves started to settle. You were still processing the fact that you’d be spending two months with a group of people you barely knew—excluding the parents. Though you went to school together and were in the same house, you’d never really had the chance to befriend them—except for Ginny.

She helped you pack your belongings, and together, you both walked to the Burrow. On the way there, Ginny went over a few house rules, explained their usual routines, and warned you about Fred and George. The twins were known for their mischievous pranks, always causing trouble. Nonetheless, you felt ready for the next few months.

When you arrived at the doorstep, Ginny unlocked the front door with her wand, and you were greeted by Molly and Arthur. "Oh, Y/N dear, how wonderful to have you here!" Molly exclaimed, pulling you into a warm bear hug—a gesture you hadn’t received in a long time.

"Good to see you, Y/N!" Arthur greeted, extending his hand for a handshake, which you accepted. "Thank you so much for allowing me to stay, I really appreciate it." You said, while giving them a heartfelt smile. "Oh no worries dear, you're welcome here any time. We've heard so many great things about you from Ginny!" Molly cheered. You and Ginny locked eyes, sharing a sincere look of happiness.

As Arthur carried your bags to your new room, you saw four familiar faces coming down the stairs. "Y/N, I’m sure you already know who they are, but let me re-introduce you so you feel welcomed," Molly said, pointing to each boy in turn. "This is Percy, Fred, George, and Ron." "Bill and Charlie both moved out," she added, "which is why they aren’t here now."

All four boys offered you soft smiles, welcoming you for the summer. "Alright, boys, go on. Ron, stay," she ordered. Ron swallowed, assuming he’d done something wrong. Was he really going to get scolded in front of the new girl right now? But before he could worry too much, his mother’s next words cleared up the situation. "Ron, if you don’t mind, would you please help Y/N settle in? I left her belongings in your room; you’ll both share the space."

Ron’s eyes widened at the statement, and for a moment, yours did too. You had assumed you'd have your own room, and the idea of sharing one with someone you hadn’t spoken to yet left you feeling uneasy. It can't be that bad, you thought. You and Ron exchanged weak smiles when your names were mentioned.

At this point, Ginny went upstairs, and Molly and Arthur went to work in the garden, leaving you and Ron alone. An awkward silence hung in the air until he finally spoke. "Well... shall we start getting you settled?" he asked.

"Yep!" you replied, relieved that your journey here had officially begun.

Before leading you to your shared room, Ron briefly pointed out the main rooms in the house—such as the kitchen, bathroom, and other essential spaces. Finally, it was time to see the room, which you figured you’d be spending most of your time in anyway. As you both walked in, you took in the details.

The room was fairly small, with most of it scattered with spell books, Chudley Cannons posters, Quidditch gear, chess sets, and various family hand-me-downs. In the corner stood a bunk bed—the spot where the two of you would sleep. The room had a strong aura of warmth and coziness, a stark contrast to your own room, which had a sleek, modern vibe.

To your surprise, you actually liked his room. Despite the mess, it felt like home—though not your own home. This was a new home, one you would adapt to over time. "I know it's not much, but—" Ron started, but you cut him off. "No, I love it. This place is awesome. I reckon I’m going to like it here." You glanced around again, taking in every detail and piece of decoration. "Well, I’m glad you like it. I usually spend most of my time here anyway," Ron said. "Oh yeah? I would too, I might as well," you replied, making eye contact with him. "Y’know, you seem like you’d be a pretty decent roomie." His words made you blush slightly, but you quickly hid it. You were already beginning to appreciate his company.

A month had already gone by, and everything was going splendidly. You were familiar with the house now, knowing where every room was, and you had gotten along with everyone—especially your new roommate.

Every so often, Molly would ask you to help with the gardening, and Ron would join you. He’d also lend a hand with making dinner and setting the table. Though you and Ron didn’t talk much during school, moments like these made you wonder how your friendship might have turned out if you'd befriended him sooner.

Despite the good times, you and Ron still bickered quite often—but always in a playful way.

"Y/N! Did you take my shirt again?" Ron yelled from his bedroom. You could hear him clearly from the kitchen.

"No!" you shouted back, glancing down at the shirt you were wearing. It was, in fact, Ron’s. His shirts had a particular scent, one that charmed you. The smell was like warm vanilla, with a hint of ground cinnamon. It smelled so good, it was hard to resist.

It felt strange wearing your now-best friend and roommate’s shirt, but you couldn’t help being drawn to his scent.

"Then where the bloody hell is it?!" Ron continued yelling, now coming down the stairs and spotting you in his shirt.

For a moment, he didn’t even register that you were wearing it. Instead, it was your figure that caught his attention. The way your shorts and shirt accentuated your shape made him feel as though he were gazing at a divine being. Your hair, your face, your body—everything about you captivated him. Who knew you could look so good in his shirt?

"Merlin…" he thought, before snapping back to reality. "I knew you were lying! That’s my shirt!" he shrieked, charging towards you and playfully tackling you onto the couch. You couldn’t escape his embrace—his strong arms held you firmly in place, giving him full control over you.

You laughed as he whined, "Y/N, I’m not letting you go until you give me my shirt back." It was amusing to see him so desperate over a simple piece of clothing.

"Oh, piss off, Ron! And I noticed the way you looked at me when you first saw it. You bet it’s not coming off," you said, emphasizing the word bet.

"You’re not going anywhere then," he replied, still holding you close. You felt the back of your head hit his chest before responding, "That means you aren’t either."

You both chuckled and sat in silence for a few moments, processing the tension. Eventually, you both dozed off on the couch, still in the same position.

While you and Ron were sleeping, Fred and George noticed and exchanged a 'we’re never gonna let him forget about this' kind of grin. But this time, they decided to spare Ron the embarrassment and let him continue sleeping with you.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

𝐅𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐰

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

And just like that, summer was nearly over. In a week, you'd be back at Hogwarts—away from your new home and the one you'd nearly forgotten. The Burrow had given you a new sense of what 'home' truly felt like, and you loved it dearly.

The last thing you wanted was to be away from the Burrow, knowing it would leave you feeling empty. This summer made you realize just how lucky every one of Molly’s children was to have such loving parents, and despite the house not being fancy or immaculate, it truly felt like home. Everything about it was comforting.

Your mind was in a scramble, the thought of leaving clouding your thoughts. To blow off some stress, you decided to visit a spot you’d discovered during your first few weeks at the Burrow—a nearby pond. It was especially beautiful at night, with the stars in the sky and the moon reflecting its light on the water.

You sat down on the grass and let out a deep sigh until you heard footsteps behind you. Turning your head, you saw your red-headed roommate. "Not interrupting anything, am I?" he asked. "Not at all," you replied. Although you had hoped for a peaceful moment, you didn’t mind his presence.

The sound of crickets and night owls, along with the view of the moonlit pond, was breathtaking. You both sat in silence, taking in the beauty. It was rare for you and Ron to have a quiet moment like this; you were usually either bickering or laughing your heads off. But something about this moment felt magical. Unlike anything you had ever experienced with anyone.

You glanced over at Ron, trying not to make it obvious. You hadn’t realized how beautiful his features were—his perfectly upturned nose, soft orange locks of hair, and the way the moonlight reflected in his crystal blue eyes. He was just as breathtaking as the view you had been looking at moments ago.

Your eyes darted back to the pond, but made their way back to Ron as he said your name. "Y/N, it was really nice having you here at the Burrow this summer. I never really wanted a roommate, but you turned out to be the best one ever. Honestly, you made this whole experience so much better." Ron shyly spoke.

"You were a very good roommate too. I’m really gonna miss this. This place felt even better than my actual home; it’s so much more lively here. A-and frankly, I don’t know what it’ll be like without it," you said, your breath shaking. Hearing the tremor in your voice, Ron threw his arm around your shoulder and moved closer to you. You missed being this close to him. You missed his touch.

"You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me," he said. Your eyes widened—such a bold statement. Did he really enjoy your company that much? You glanced at him, still processing what he’d just said.

You didn’t know where to look. You couldn’t focus only on his eyes, not when you suddenly craved every part of his face—especially his lips.

You could see he was doing the same; his eyes shifted to your lips. Oh gosh, you couldn’t hold back any longer. You couldn’t go another second without tasting him.

As if he read your mind, Ron inched closer, closing the gap between you, until your lips finally met.

Your lips moved in sync, tasting each other’s mouths. This was what you’d been craving, and you finally had it.

His arm slid off your shoulder and landed on the grass, supporting his upper body. His other hand found its way behind your head, gently tugging at your hair, earning a small whine from you.

Still not breaking the kiss, you straddled onto his lap, one hand tangled in his hair while the other rested on his cheek. It’s safe to say you’d earned yourself a boyfriend for the upcoming year at Hogwarts.

This had been your best summer ever—summer at the Burrow.

[arthursfuckinghat]

The fate of Evelyn Miller is so fucking fascinating, I had no idea.

Although Dutch admired him like a saint, his books and writings were heavily criticized by others in the same field as him. Miller wrote very poetic and socially progressive novels (a big deal considering the time period), his empathy and understanding of the world around him was the main reason for the criticism.

He was painted as a fraud and a fool who had ideas far above his station, his books also sparked a lot of controversy in the gang. When Dutch tried sharing 'wisdom' from one of the books, Lenny was especially critical of Miller's philosophies. Lenny also said that Miller was a fraud, a man who came from a privileged life and was pretending to live like a lower class citizen. Dutch took it personally, but carried on reading, he does this in a few interactions with explaining or reading out some of Miller's writing to gang members.

But the interesting part is despite Dutch preaching Miller's philosophies and reading his books to the last letter, he proved to not fully understand the meaning behind the writings after all.

It was shown that Miller was an advocate for nature, the Wapiti, and native Americans in general. He tried to help them with the situation regarding the peace treaty and convinced Arthur to help them too. Miller's allyship with the Wapiti was met with a lot of scrutinization, he was insulted by guests at the mayor's party for sympathising with minorities, but Miller still aided them when they needed it.

And as we know, this is quite the opposite to what Dutch did. Dutch took advantage of the Wapiti and helped fuel the war between them and the army for his own gain. He preached his idea of a fair and free world, but killed innocents and indoctrinated the vulnerable. He preached second chances, but shot without hesitation. He preached loyalty, but left his sons to die.

I could go on, but ultimately, Miller was also critical of himself. He pushed himself hard to write and improve, so much so that he died of starvation whilst trying to finish his last book. His last request was wanting his body to be burned so he could soar in the air with the eagles.

Dutch loving and preaching Miller till his dying day only further cemented the hypocrisy that ran deep in Dutch as a person. He fed on the thrill that came from leading people to a 'better world' - and it killed them all.

[achillesuwu]

Au where merthur have soulmate identifying mark but merlin is the only one who know they are because if Arthur knew he would find out about his magic 👀 (arthur's mark being a beautiful dragon mainly on on his back but its tall is draped on his torso, a wing stretch on his right shoulder, another end on his hip and its head rest upon his stomach. As if it were jealousy protecting him. its scale are of a blue so dark it nearly look black. It has golden eye and tread of gold on is horn, gold shimmer on its body highlighting its scale at some place.

It screams powerful sorcerer.)

And thus it doesn't change anything from the show. Merlin doesn't tell him not even at the very end (Merlin's mark is a smaller red dragon with its head on his shoulder and who is is holding itself on his shoulder)

It would be very angsty but also SO FUNNY if in a post return futur where arthur (Gwen, the knights) are very confuse and lost but luckily for them there exist multiple center for "People who got Teleported at the wrong place/Bought back from the dead? We are here to help!/ your five yo drank a weird potion? No problem! Etc" basically Magic help center.

Just imagine basic social worker sorcerers who tries to do their job at 3 am and see THE Emrys mark ™ on a random dude and they are like *gasp*.

Them : what the fuck

Arthur :???

Them :WHAT THE FUCK

the others :????

Them : we are calling your soulmate RIGHT NOW. WHAT THE FUCK should I call the government too???? I'M NOT PAY ENOUGH FOR THIS.

Arthur : my???

Them : YOU. DO NOT MOVE IF I LOSE YOU I'M DEAD. DEAD.

You can imagine arthur pendragon pacing like a 13 years old stressed before an oral presentation because even if he was afraid then thought he globally didn't really care about his soulmate. He realised that it wasn't so much that he didn't care but he thought it would simply never be so he just... Kinda forgot about it. Now he just can not put it away because is soulmate IS coming and WHERE IS MERLIN WHEN HE NEEDS HIM (he is blocking any thoughts about Merlin potential dead thank you very much)

(Gwen is currently finding the situation extremely funny because she figured out in 5x13 and she is 80 yo (in a younger body but still) . And she is waaaayyyyyy to old to see her former husband stay in his denial.

Leon is 78 years old and he is slowly recognising the dragon in question that look very much like Merlin's family crest. He is looking at his wife in a very conspiracy way.

Gwaine is currently not really giving a damn about the whole soulmate thing. What do you MEAN you can send messages to people in less that a second?!?!?

Elyan would usually not give a damn but he is very much not happy ™ to find out that his sister (first) husband had a soulmate mark who isn't dead and he is glaring at Arthur but he is also getting a hug from gwen so it doesn't look menacing at all.

Perceval (57) is right behind Gwaine but he is currently watching himself in the mirror because seeing his younger self again is weird asf

Meanwhile Lancelot is talking with the assistant (on the verge of a break down because they are going to see the GOD OF MAGIC OH MY GOD) about magical history

[kaphzzz]

so i saw a couple posts about how arthur is sexist and racist and i'm not defending him because ive got a filter on but i do think some things are debatable. a few things got blown out of proportion and overanalysed i think.

first off i agree by today's standards hes definitely got some views to correct such as gender roles and not resorting to telling a woman to go to the kitchen as an insult, but at that time hes about as feminist as you get from a man. he says he doesnt think women and men are all that different, and he doesnt show any doubt at all regarding the capabilities of the women in the gang. many times hes expressed his belief that the women such as tilly or mary beth are skilled and capable of fending for themselves. he frequently shows his vulnerable side to the women in camp. when sadie made it firm that she wanted to be a fighter he allowed her to do it, barely even hesitated. i think he only mocked her because hes irritated at the commotion she and pearson caused in the middle of the camp, and also when isnt he sarcastic?

about the womens suffrage march: yeah he goes only because he's getting paid but he doesnt mock them for their cause and isnt afraid to be seen among them or to be perceived as an ally to their cause. considering the amount of angry men gathered at the protest who would have died of shame if anyone thought they were allies to feminism i think the contrast is clear enough.

'arthur as a lover would force gender roles' i genuinely dont think he would. the girls in the gang do chores because ms grimshaw is in charge of them and arthur has nothing to do with it, hes in fact more assured of their mission success when the girls are involved. he trusts sadie in a fight with his life. he meets charlotte and offers to teach her, without her asking him, to handle a gun to hunt and be independent, not once does he tell her to go back to her cozy life in the city or find another man to rely on beyond offering to get her somewhere she can get food. he goes out of his way to help mary, even when he realises he has nothing to gain from it. these are his views on what a woman should or shouldnt do and it wont change just because said woman is his partner. and i dont even ship him and sadie but i totally get it, i think he'd love a woman who can handle herself both in life and in a fight. this is also why so many people thought he had insane chemistry with black belle and there are even fanworks out there of the two. he doesnt get to meet too many but he's nothing but impressed and respectful when he meets a strong woman. and sure, if his partner is and just wants to be a wife in a traditional wife role, arthur'd be totally fine with it, he'd probably love to have someone stay in their home caring for it and waiting for him. but i also think he wouldnt be opposed to someone who can accompany him when hes out and about and who he can entrust his life to either.

'he lost his temper at mary' okay why wouldnt anyone? thats an understandable reaction for anyone in the circumstances. he's gone to meet who is probably the only person he has ever loved romantically and still loves, and all she does is criticise him for his outlaw lifestyle while at the same time expecting him to help her using the skills he gained from that life. im not going to say shes using him or being manipulative but it comes close, which is a whole other debate and i dont want to get into it but mary isn't in the right either. they talk to each other as equals too, their argument and the way they talk to each othet just supports that. when he got angry he realises his mistake and tries to calm himself down immediately when mary tells him to be kind to her. any truly sexist man who believes in a man's role in a relationship wouldnt even have listened. there were and are enough men in relationships who dont listen to their female partners or accept criticism from them or would even escalate the situation but arthur is not one of them.

about him being racist - this is a no brainer honestly he wasnt racist in 1899 and not racist now. sure you can say hes ignorant and uneducated on racism issues but thats not the same as being racist or accusing him of racism. the only thing i see people have to support the racism argument is that he referred to javier as a 'greaser' during the boat heist, but thats i think the only time he says a slur and thats only because he's got a role to play and hes simply saying whatever the manager expected from his act. he thinks of javier as family and all of the non white people in the gang too, quite obviously.

and lastly yes i agree hes a flawed person, charles calls him out on not wanting to help the germans or the tribe of his own will, lenny calls him out on not realising that the south is dangerous for him and tilly and charles to be in, in fact many people put him in his place by telling him exactly where hes wrong. he is often offending people whether he means to or not, and in certain situations quick to lose his temper or resort to violence, but he is also a kind and caring and sensitive person. i dont think we need to be squinting so hard between the lines to know that hes a good person when he doesnt have to be the violent brute dutch shaped him into for the gang.

so anyway i totally agree hes not some pure pookie wookie cinammon roll capable of no wrong and definitely has a lot of flaws besides the crimes, but i dont think racism or sexism are among them.

everyone has their own understanding of a character, i dont normally want to get involved in debate but if anyone does want to discuss then do but keep it civil

[ahqkas]

Can I request headcanons for Charles Smith and Arthur Morgan with shy gn!s/o please?

SHOW ME HOW ; arthur morgan & charles smith

PAIRINGS! arthur morgan x gn!reader, charles smith x gn!reader

SYNOPSIS! too shy to talk, but your man got you

RED READ REDEMPTION 2 MASTERLIST!

ARTHUR MORGAN IS ALWAYS MINDFUL OF THE COMFORT AND FEELINGS HIS LOVED ONES NEED. His rough exterior hides a surprisingly gentle and considerate nature, which would shine in his interactions with his beloved partner. He pushes past his limits and beyond to create a safe and reassuring place, even if it’s only in the space of his old tent.

At the beginning, Arthur would be particularly attentive to your body language and non-verbal cues, his senses quickly picking up on what makes you comfortable and what makes you anxious. He’d approach you with a soft-spoken tone, his usual gruffness pushed aside for the others (Sean, Bill, Micah). The outlaw is cracking bad jokes left and right, trying to coax a laugh out of you to ease the tension.

Arthur’s protective side would come out more than ever. He’d always be on the lookout, ensuring you feel safe, especially when you’re around members of the gang that are known to be difficult or in unfamiliar territory. He'd stand close to you, offering silent support with his presence, ready to step in and threaten whoever makes you feel uncomfortable. His protective nature would extend to his actions, often putting your needs above his own as if it was nothing. You didn’t know you were his everything, and Arthur had already lost too much to risk.

In quieter moments, Arthur would find ways to connect with you that don’t rely on words if you don’t talk much. He’d enjoy simply sitting together, perhaps by the campfire or under the stars, finding comfort in each other’s company, shoulder pressing into yours to have some sort of physical connection. He might share stories from his life, revealing his own vulnerabilities to encourage you to open up at your own pace. The gentleman he can be, his respect for your boundaries would be evident, never pressuring you to speak more than you’re comfortable with.

When it comes to physical affection, Arthur would be equally considerate. He’d move slowly, always ensuring his touch is welcomed and appreciated. Small, gentle gestures would be his way of expressing love - holding your hand or offering a soft kiss to the backs of your hands. Each touch would be tender and feather-like.

He’d praise your strengths and achievements, however small, and offer support when you face difficult times. His belief in you is unwavering, always there to reassure you that you’re stronger than you think.

You’re his, after all. If you can handle the bear of a man, you can handle anything else in the entire world.

CHARLES SMITH’S CALM AND PATIENT SOUL IS THE PERFECT MATCH FOR YOURS.

From the start, Charles would make it clear that he values you for who you are, shyness included. He’d listen attentively to your thoughts and feelings, offering a non-judgmental space for you to express yourself at your own pace. His soft-spoken wise voice and reassuring presence would help to ease any anxieties you may have about opening up. If you’re speaking in a group, he’d glare anybody down who dared to speak over you.

The man would be incredibly observant, picking up on your subtle cues and emotions. He’d intuitively understand when you need space and when you need his attention. His ability to read people like an open book would create a sense of security, knowing that he instantly knows what’s up without you even expressing the problem.

In social situations, Charles would be your loyal companion, providing quiet support and encouragement. He’d never push you to be more outgoing than you’re comfortable with as he is himself more on the quieter side. He has an unwavering belief in your abilities.

Physical affection with Charles would be tender and reassuring. He’d be attuned to your comfort level, always seeking your consent before initiating any form of intimacy. Whether it’s holding hands, sharing a hug, or a soft kiss on the cheek, each gesture would be done with your permission. If you don’t like showing the touch for the world to see, he’d make it up for you in the private space only you two share.

Charles would also go out of his way to make you feel special and appreciated. He’d show his love through thoughtful gestures and gifts, like bringing your favorite flowers or sharpening your weapons for you at the camfire. His acts of kindness would be a reflection of his deep affection for you, a way of showing that he’s attentive to your needs and desires without you even speaking a word.

Those who wrong you better be prepared to live through the wrath of Charles Smith. He’s silent, but his strength is loud.

© ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified.

[fancygremlin]

Arthur and John each have a moment in the narrative where one perform a "leap of faith" and the other saves them. Both moments are quite interesting and serve to help the characters realise thay are no longer alone and that they can truly rely on one another (full analysis here, if you're interested).

However, I think there is a third "leap of faith" that occurs way later on... however this time the focus is neither John or Arthur, instead the character being saved is Noel.

Just like Arthur and John, the detective was forced to learn to be independent and self-reliant to ensure his own survival. He was separated very abruptly, and subsequently lost his only friend before being stuck in the Dreamlands. He was completely on his own against the King in Yellow, who tortured him relentlessly and cruelly for months. Noel was then carelessly spit back out in Arkham, traumatised and alone, and had to rebuild his life back up without being able to rely on anyone else.

How could he ever hope to explain all the horrors he was subjected to when no one could ever even begin to understand half of what he had to endure?

But then, years later he meets John and Arthur, and it seems that they can and do understand him. Noel allows Arthur to share his experiences in the Dreamlands... and the detective allows himself to finally recount his story too.

Then, in Part 40, Noel infiltrated a cultist base with John and Arthur and everything goes sideways. His trust in the characters is momentarily broken when John's real identity is revealed to him. Noel is then weakened by reliving his experience in the Dreamlands and nearly loses himself as the King in Yellow once again controls his mind and nearly kills him...

Noel takes a leap:

Noel was the first character that not only knew about Arthur and John's sharing a body situation, but also the first that wholly accepted them and tried to understand them better. It's only right that both Arthur and John reached out to help him and save him when he nearly lost himself.

As a side note, I think it’s really interesting how Arthur kept calling him out using his real name (Charlie), while John tried to reach him using his chosen name (Noel) during this scene. It's such an excellent, little detail which I really enjoyed.

I like to think that the use of both names is because just as Charlie/ Noel accepted both John and Arthur both as a unit and as separate people, the two characters are doing the same by accepting and recognising both the detective’s (past and present) identities as well. They decide to accept and save any and all versions of Charlie/ Noel.

Of course this is not the only interpretation. For example, the use of one name or the other might reflect how John and Arthur are recognising core parts of themselves within Noel/ Charlie instead.

John is calling the detective by his chosen name because he is honouring Noel's choice to start anew. Noel had been hurt in every possible way and reduced to nothing after his experience in the Dreamlands. The detective found that the only way to move forwards was by leaving all the (too far) damaged parts of himself behind and try to create a new self. A clean slate and new name for a new beginning to start a better life somewhere new. He needed to leave his past behind and forget the parts of himself he didn't want anymore. That was what John did too when he dissociated from the King in Yellow and began forming his own identity.

On the other hand, Arthur is calling the detective by his real name because he is honouring the person Charlie was in the past. Charlie was the part of himself that he left behind because he deemed too damaged and too ugly to salvage. Arthur drags behind his past mistakes like deadweight, he carries all the guilt and sorrow with him wherever he goes. He wants to believe that all the hurt, all the damage and all the scars he deems as the ugliest parts of himself don't make him an utterly repulsive and unlovable monster. I think he is trying to demonstrate that Charlie is just as worthy of being saved as Noel is, weaknesses and broken parts included.

Hm, and I seem to have gone off a giant tangent here... I shall stop blabbering now before I completely lose track of what this analysis was supposed to be about.

[howlett-n-morgan]

Take Me Home

5. Blood Stains

Arthur Morgan x Texas Red!Reader

A/n: HEY GUYS I AM BACK WITH A DOOSIE. okay so my fashion show was fantastic, let me know if y'all wanna see a video of my collection i think it turned out pretty damn good. anyways, wrote this while crocked off my ass on Benadryl bc allergy season is hitting very very hard right now so if it's not perfect we are all going to collectively blame the Benadryl, okay? okay.

Summary: An accident in the laundry causes chaos in the camp, and secrets are revealed sooner than expected. With everyone else acting like the world is caving in, Arthur steps up as usual.

Warnings: misogyny, major gender role tropes, a little bit of personal violation, but very minor. Susan is a bitch in this chapter (we love Susan). Blood plays a lot into this chapter, and so do menstrual cycles, so if you're uncomfortable with those mentions, this may be a skippable chapter for you. There's also like some sexual implications but nothing inherently sexual happens. I think that's it, let me know if I missed anything.

WC: 7.8k

“Climb up, let’s go to town before closing time,” he walked around to the other side where his horse was hitched from earlier today, still saddled since Bill hadn’t made his rounds yet.  You complied, but were unsure of the motives for such a trip.  “Is Dutch paying you to take me somewhere? He want you to kill me quietly?” 

In the weeks since John’s disappearance, you’ve noticed three things:

One, Dutch hasn’t barely been seen in the camp, and when he makes his presence known, it’s either angry or forlorn. Two, the entire gang has been very quiet, not wanting to set off Dutch, or make anyone else upset with the matter. Three, Arthur has done as he said he would, becoming closer with Abigail, and helping nightly with Jack. 

It shouldn’t break your heart, because you had no right for it to. You shouldn’t be distancing yourself from the both of them, they didn’t do anything to deserve it, but the way your chest tightened by watching them, watching Arthur gently place a hand on her shoulder as he watched Jack squirm in her arms was far too miserable. Abigail won’t speak of it, knowing that everyone has been on edge since her former lover left, but she missed the talks and conversations you held. You understood her, and though she didn’t exactly know the truth as to why, she was still partially in grief over that bond, too. 

Arthur takes immediate notice, but doesn’t say anything. Hosea had mentioned your run in with John the evening he took off. He figured you needed time to cope with the situation, even if you didn’t know John all that well, or even like him for that matter. Everyone in camp was dealing with it differently, so why should he judge the way you handled yourself?

It was only when you stopped talking to him altogether that he became slightly concerned, and he wasn’t the only one. 

When Dutch first brought you into the gang, he knew there was some subtle competition with you and Arthur. The two fastest guns in the west, hell, maybe even the world… but you butted heads often. He didn’t know why it had suddenly stopped, but his concern grew from being in both your presences at the same time, and the icy feeling he got just from standing between you, running over job details in a tent. 

It was like Arthur didn’t exist to you anymore. Everything you said and did was conveyed to the people around him, but never to him. You would even give news to a big group of people to avoid telling Arthur directly. 

Dutch knew there was something wrong, because he could have sworn you both were inches away from getting along, but now it was worse than square one. It was after a successful job that he said something about it. After you had deliberately handed Arthur’s cut to Javier and told him to give it to the next man over. 

You’d ridden back, safe and sound, but Dutch held you back, nodding the others away from the horse troughs.  

“Talk with me for a bit, will ya son?” He tried to approach the situation gently. This couldn’t have been a gradual thing. 

“F’course,” you muttered, hands resting on your gun belt as you followed him into the center of camp. 

“I’ve been noticing some… strange behavior from you towards Arthur. Only lately…” he scratched his head, looking at you expectantly. “You can tell me if he did somethin’ to piss you off, I’ll speak with him about it.”

You furrowed your brow and shook your head. “He didn’t do nothin’ to piss me off… I’ve just always been better off on my own, don’t wanna rely on anyone.”

“I can understand that sentiment, but it doesn’t make any damn sense as to why you’re givin’ him the cold shoulder,” he furthered his point, and you didn’t have any choice but to make something else up. Something that could actually be worth what you were doing to Arthur. Your head told you that the truth of ‘I’m actually a young woman and I’m catching feelings for your gang enforcer’ wouldn’t help you. 

“He’s been tryna hold me back,” you sighed out, as if revealing some huge secret. It was partially true, but you’d grown more relaxed about the protection Arthur had been trying to provide. Still, you kept on the charade, knowing it would get you out of this situation free and clear. “M’tired of him thinkin’ I can’t keep up, tired of feelin’ like a helpless kid next to ‘im.”

Dutch let out a breath and narrowed his eyes. “I see… and so you figured it best to keep him out of arm’s reach, is that it?”

“Guess so,” you shrugged, leaning against the pole of his big tent. 

And then it seemed that Dutch saw this as a teaching moment, because he nodded for you to sit down on one of the cross latch boxes, across from where he stood. He had a whole spiel oncoming, and you were almost sure you knew what it would contain. Something about the camp being a family, everyone sticking together and more nonsense of the like.

“You don’t understand this now, because you’ve never had a time of need in this gang… but that day will come,” he paused, and you perhaps had it all wrong, listening intently now. He pointed in the direction of Arthur’s camp set up, and you glanced over, not for the first time that day. He was tired, hunched over his cot and leaning in exhaustion, running his hand over his face. “And when you are in that time of need, there is no better man to have in your corner than Arthur Morgan.”

You nodded in understanding, a small frown on your face. You wanted to protect yourself, but if what Dutch says is true, you’re only setting yourself up for failure. 

“He’s been here a long time, and no matter your opinion of him, no matter the things you do or the things you say, he’s loyal. It ain’t up to me what you decide to do, but you should know, he’s the best ally you’re ever gonna have.”

And just like that, you regretted the past weeks. Everything you did to avoid him, getting up early to grab some of the coffee before he came by. Going out and hunting without letting anyone know, just so that he didn’t have a chance to come with you. Even going as far as to mend your own clothing and do your own laundry, knowing he might catch you at one of the girl’s stations while picking up your weekly wears. You felt awful. You remembered at least four times he tried to approach you before he just gave up. At the time you were grateful, because you thought it was making things easier for you, but in actuality, the things Dutch said were true. You needed him in your corner. There would be a time of need, and Arthur was the best ally to have when that time would come, whatever it may be. 

“I think I oughta go set things right, then,” you let out, your ego deflating slightly when your eyes met Dutch again. 

“If you think it’s best,” he nodded, switching places with you and watching you walk over to his favored outlaw, the man he called his son. He called you son, too. You wondered if that would hold up if he ever found out about you. 

Arthur was on the verge of sleep, but you were doing this now. You could apologize later. 

“You look like shit,” you tried to be nonchalant, and not bring any emotion into this. 

When he looked up, he was slightly annoyed, but his face softened once he looked at you for a moment. 

“Feel like shit,” he grumbled, trying to understand what you were doing here. You didn’t exactly give him reason to believe he was important to you anymore. “Did you need something?” 

You kicked the dirt beneath your boot, trying to keep yourself composed, but you weren’t too good at these things, and the amount of shear stiffness in your body wasn’t helping you to relax about it. 

“I think I owe you an apology,” you started, and he tilted his head in slight confusion. Sure, he knew what you were apologizing for, but he didn’t know why. “I’ve been avoidin’ you, n’ I shouldn’t have.”

He nodded in thanks, accepting your words. You stood awkwardly, unsure if you should say more or just leave, but when you turned your boot to walk, he stopped you. 

“Did I piss you off or somethin’?”

Why was everyone asking that? 

“No, ain’t nothing you did. Just my own stupid ass and things that don’t matter,” you told him. You felt even worse now, because you’d made both him and Dutch think that it was something he did wrong. He could rarely do any wrong in your eyes, which made this whole ordeal that much worse. 

“Matters enough, you stopped talking to me. Couldn’t even get you to look my way.”

You didn’t want him to know anything else. With him and Abigail rapidly forming a blossoming relationship, it wasn’t for you to stand in their way. Jack needed a father figure, and Arthur was the perfect candidate. 

“I’m sorry about it. I swear it won’t happen again,” you really wanted to leave this time, unsure of how far it may go in the event of a deep conversation… but he caught your wrist and gently tugged it back towards where he sat as soon as you started turning away again. 

“You gotta give me somethin’, Red. I’ve waited weeks just to ask you,” he pleaded, his tired eyes looking through you and trying to enter your mind. You caved just as soon as you saw how badly this affected him. You hurt him. He might be big, burly, and dangerous… but he bleeds, and his heart can be wounded as easily as anyone else’s. 

“I’ve been going through some things, and you’ve had a lot on your plate with Jack and Abigail. It’s not fair of me to make my burdens your burdens… I was tryna keep you out of it,” you admitted, which was only half true. The partial truths of the night were stacking up, but fortunately he couldn’t tell the difference right now, too tired and unfocused to really study your features and what you were hiding. 

“Red,” he sighed, not yet prying for more information, but giving you one last glance. “You can tell me things. Remember that.”

You nodded, smiling at him for the first time since John left. “Alright.” 

-

You stopped avoiding and ignoring Arthur, but things were still distant. You’d been getting close right after Jack was born, but going into his third month in the world, you two were miles apart. Still, it was better than the stone cold facade you’d been turning to him before. 

“Got any laundry?” Susan asked, breaking you out of your trance as you watched the sun setting. You weren’t really paying much attention, but nodded, reaching behind you into your tent for a sheet full of worn out and dirty clothing. You should have looked it over, but you didn’t, too caught up in your own mind. “You can ask the girls about getting it back tomorrow, they’ve been going stir crazy for things to do.”

“Yes ma’am,” you nodded, tipping your hat and leaning back against your small tent’s middle pole. You had half a mind to slide your hat over your eyes for a nap, but that didn’t seem like it would fly, especially if one of the others needed you for something. 

You could definitely use a nap, you were cramping like crazy. You swore if Bill came up to you and asked for any more favors with the damn horses this week you’d kill him, but only because you were feeling grumpy. 

You wanted so badly to confide in Arthur about these things, the troubles of womanhood that you couldn’t share with anyone else but him. You wondered if he would ever tell anyone, since it’s been almost five months of your residence and you have yet to reveal your secrets to everyone else. Maybe you were being paranoid, but the closer he got to Abigail and the further you pushed him away, you thought he might care less about the agreement you both made. After all, spilling your secret to Dutch would gain him loyalty points, and Dutch seemed all too happy to be giving them out since John left. 

It was about an hour later when there was a shriek at the other side of camp, and many ran over to see what the trouble was. 

Tilly had been sitting by her wash bin, but had pulled her hands out on account of one thing. 

“What’s the matter, Tilly?” you heard Sean over your shoulder, and when you finally saw the trouble your eyes widened and you muttered a single word under your breath. 

“Shit.” 

“What’s shit?” Arthur’s voice was also heard beside you now, and you turned to him ever so slightly with a whisper.

“Me, I’m in deep shit.”

Tilly showed everyone the water, with some clothing swirling around, but it was all tinted red. 

“I think someone’s been hurt,” she said, waving over Mrs. Grimshaw to show her the problem. “There’s blood in the water.”

You tried to casually back up slowly, hoping that it wouldn’t get traced back to you, after all, the clothing in the bin was yours, and Mrs. Grimshaw had just picked up the pile from you. You were just stupid enough to leave your monthly attire in with it, and during your monthly time, too. You were only two days into the cycle, meaning there had been a lot of blood.

Grimshaw, being the stern and impatient woman she was, rolled her sleeves up and dug around in the water, looking for clothing with holes to indicate a stab or bullet wound… but she only found:

“A sanitary apron?” She furrowed her brows. She was pretty in tune with the women of the camp, and hadn’t been aware that someone was menstruating right now. 

“You better run, kid,” Arthur caught on, nudging your shoulder. You’d already started getting further away from the scene, but it seemed Grimshaw already came to a conclusion before you could make a break for it. 

“I picked these up from…” she trailed, her brow now seemingly angry and strewn together in a stressful manner. She marched over to you, grabbing your lanky wrist harshly and tugging you away from the scene. “You better not be hidin’ what I think you’re hidin’!”

You held onto your hat as she practically ran you into the nearest tent. It wasn’t hers or yours but that didn’t matter, her urgency was all too apparent. 

“Miss Grimshaw, what’s this all about?” 

“I have had my suspicions about you since you arrived here,” she spoke intensely, pulling you forward by your belt buckle and doing her best to undo it. 

“Hey, hey! What’re ya doin’?!” You tried to protest, but her nimble hands were too persistent, and she finally got your pants loose enough to take a brief peek at what she needed to see. “What the hell, would you stop?!” 

“I knew it!” she yelled, a finger pointed in the air. 

And just like that, you knew you were screwed. 

She quickly ran out of the tent, and you tried to follow her, making a quick attempt at putting your belt back together on the way out. 

Arthur ran a hand over his face when first he saw you, and the state you were in. He knew the jig was up, too. 

“Where is that man when you need him?” Susan was turning every which way, a mess of herself just trying to frantically look for the camp leader. 

“Dutch? He’s in town with Hosea, what’s the problem?” Bill sauntered up, dusting his hands from the work he’d paused. 

Pearson and Javier all of a sudden made an appearance, and when you thought nothing could make this worse, the rest of the camp zoned in on the chaos, having had nothing better to do this whole day. It was slow, and there were no jobs to be done, so the boredom consumed minds jumped on the first sign of entertainment they could find, and boy was it something.

“We have an imposter in our midst!” She yelled, her arms waving around wildly. 

“Hold on, now…” You tried to interject, but Arthur shot you a look, shaking his head. Don’t do it, kid. Just shut up.

“What do you mean an imposter?” Pearson crossed his arms. He was never one to give bad news of any kind to, because he had a tendency to blow it out of proportion. “Who?” 

“That,” she pointed at you, her voice raised to the highest decibel count you knew was humanly possible. “Is not an eighteen year old boy! She has been fooling us all. Who even knows where she comes from, what her real name is!”

“What the hell are you even talking about?” 

“The kid?” 

“Ain’t no way…”

The rapid responses coming forward almost eased your mind, except for the fact that Susan did in fact have up close and personal proof from what she saw. 

Arthur stepped forward, and as the murmurs grew louder, and Miss Grimshaw was prepared to go on another rant, he did all he could to calm the situation. 

“Let’s not make any rash judgements right now,” he gave you a look, trying to let you see he was attempting to help, but that you needed to leave. “We’ll just wait until Dutch and Hosea get back.”

You took that as a cue to leave, awkwardly making way for your tent. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” Susan tried to chase after you, but Arthur held her back. 

“Wait for Dutch,” he said, his arm blocking her path. Who knows what she’d do in this state? She’d been known to whip some of the boys into compliance before, who knows what she’d do to someone she viewed as an imposter. 

Sitting with the flaps closed, you could still hear everything that was occurring outside, and it nerved you far more than being in the middle of it all. 

“It doesn’t make any sense…” and “Do you think it’s true?” could be heard from separate conversations, and you wished more than anything that you’d just done your own damn laundry. 

Your face fell in your hands, and you started going over all the things that could happen. Dutch could hate you for lying to him, and kick you out, banishing you as far as you could go. Or, since you were a newbie, and didn’t have the trust factor built yet, maybe they would just shoot you dead. That may have been an extreme idea, but with your rapidly beating heart and increasing worry, things like that were bound to spill in. Not like you’d been in a gang before, you didn’t exactly get an etiquette and rule book when you arrived. Who knew what would happen to you. Nothing good, that you knew.

When Arthur finally opened the flap and leaned down inside the small dwelling, you knew it was time to face the music. 

“Dutch is back, Susan’s tellin’ him everything,” he sighed, looking over your face and feeling a sense of guilt that he didn’t do anything to stop all of this. When you first arrived he thought maybe it wouldn’t be a big deal, but having experienced this much drama in just the past hour has most definitely led him to believe he was wrong. 

When you stayed silent, and didn’t really give him a reaction of any kind, he could tell you were hit hard with the anxiety and shock of it all. He couldn’t ever get you to shut up, and he often didn’t want to, most of all now when you looked like a scared animal. 

“I ain’t gonna let ‘em hurt ya, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

You shook your head, and against your hardest efforts, tears were backing your eyes, looking for ways to escape. He hadn’t ever seen you like this, and it wasn’t pleasant. 

“I don’t wanna leave,” you admitted. You liked it here. You weren’t lonely here, and you had a family… or at least you did an hour ago. You didn’t know where you stood with half of these people. 

He couldn’t speak for Dutch or Hosea, or anyone else really, but he could speak for himself. 

“I don’t want you to, either…”

When Arthur heard his name called, he leaned back, looking in the direction of his father figure, looking angrier than a pack of hungry wolves. 

“Yeah?” 

“Tell Brooks to see me, now.”

You didn’t even need the message relayed. You stood up, and followed Arthur out of the tent, your head down as you made the distance to the center tent, the big one you’d been at only a bit ago with council from your leader. You only hoped he’d be so forgiving when he found out you lied to him. 

Arthur got into the tent first, mumbling a few things you were a little distracted to hear. You did catch the small ‘don’t be too hard on her’ fall from his mouth, though. 

You sat down on the box chest, close to the exit of the tent, just in case things went south and you had to run. Not that you were thinking about running, but again, a million scenarios crossed your mind. 

“Arthur, wait outside.”

You grew more tense as soon as those words were uttered, and so did Arthur it would seem. 

“Dutch, I think I should-”

“Wait. Outside.” 

He reluctantly did as he was told, walking far enough away that he wouldn’t be reprimanded, but still in your eye-line so he could keep an eye on you. He trusted Dutch with the gang members, but if he was considering kicking you out, that made you fair game. 

“I’m gonna cut to the chase,” he took a long drag of the cigar he held between his fingers, blowing the smoke out when he turned his head to the side. “You know why you’re here.”

“I reckon I do,” you answered quietly, trying to keep an ounce of confidence though your entire body felt like it would start shaking in fear. 

“I could have you stripped for the whole camp to see, but for propriety’s sake I’m only going to ask you this once… is it true?” He asked, his tone less stern but still eager. 

“Yes.”

He sighed, having heard the softness in your voice since you came in, he already knew. You’d never shown this side of yourself to the camp before. You were always confident, sure of yourself, cocky even. To think it was an act boiled his skin… but he wanted to take his time with this. You still had capabilities the likes he’s never seen, and if he wasn’t careful they could one day be used against him. You didn’t know about the O’Driscolls yet, and he sure as hell wouldn’t have you running off and joining them. It would be the death of the Van Der Linde gang, of that he was certain. 

“I’m gonna decide what to do with you, but until then, you stay out of my sight.”

He pointed outside of the tent, and you were honestly surprised that this was the extent of his questioning. Nothing about the lies? About the history? About anything at all?

You gave him a double glance, but scurried away in fears he might change his mind and tear you to shreds on the spot. You walked hastily towards Arthur, your face gaining more color to it once you were out of the line of danger. 

“You alright?” He asked, his furrowed brows reflecting his concern. 

“No,” you let out with a dramatic scoff. Your flare for over exaggeration was sometimes quite amusing to him. He just dropped his head and chuckled. 

“You’re fine,” he patted your shoulder before stepping past you and going to talk to Dutch. What he knows is that Susan Grimshaw spilled every nasty detail of this afternoon to the camp leader, but he also knows that he hasn’t had his say yet, and when it comes down to it, Dutch will side with his loyal enforcer over a disgruntled Miss Grimshaw. 

Dutch was stretching out his arms, sore from the ride in and out of town. It was a scouting trip, really, but it was enough to make him ache when all the stress was added. 

“First John leaving, now this. I can’t seem to catch a break, can I?” Dutch sighed out after his words, the toll they took on his mind caused him to shake his head of so many thoughts. 

“This ain’t so bad,” Arthur began, tilting his head from side to side. 

“How could you possibly think that?”

Arthur shrugged, reasoning with himself a few options before saying them out loud. 

“S’not like she did any harm. Only thing that’s come of it is a bit of surprise to everyone…” he trailed, sitting across from the man he called his father figure and his friend. The tension seemed to ease up the second he neared the man, but there was more to be done to diffuse the situation, and he was all too happy to insert himself as the cause of said diffusion. 

“She lied about who she is, for all we know she could be working with local law, or worse, the pinkertons.” 

Dutch’s raised concerns nearly made Arthur chuckle. When you first got here, facade or not, you were still just lost and looking for somewhere to call home. There were never any motives behind your gang participation other than needing a family.

“We haven’t had them on our trail in ages. Coming here, we finally put a stop to their sniffin’ around. Besides, she’s been the reason for our successful jobs lately… she’s been loyal enough to save my life despite our differences.”

“But she lied to us,” Dutch kept driving his point. A liar’s a liar, and they lie about other things. 

“She’s a scared kid, Dutch. She just wants a place to be,” Arthur defended, his arguments becoming more close and personal, which led Dutch to connect some other dots. 

He sighed, looking at Arthur and coming to an understanding of what he knew were past events. 

“You knew, didn’t you?” 

Arthur dropped his head into a subtle nod, not yet meeting Dutch’s eyes for his fear of a bad reaction. 

“Since the week she got here.”

Dutch had to laugh, because of course he did. Arthur was more in tune with the members of camp than he could ever be, and more than they could be with each other. He was like Hosea that way, his ability to connect and grow relationships with others was just a natural gift. He often thought it stemmed from Arthur’s great love of the unknown, and his endless curiosity. 

“How’d you figure it out?” 

“I didn’t, until I found some uh… rather feminine items in her saddle bag. She fessed up pretty quickly to me,” Arthur scratched the back of his neck, his nerves settling when he knew he wouldn’t be in any trouble. 

“Well,” Dutch started, coming to the edge of his open tent, looking for the troubled recruit among the busy movement of the camp. “We’ve taken in much worse, and it’s always been in our favor. And you’re right… She's just a scared kid. A scared kid with the quickest hands I’ve ever seen.”

There was a moment, and then Arthur smiled.

“So… She’s free n’ clear?” He asked, his tone hopeful, which Dutch noticed. Perhaps Red had made amends after all, and just as Dutch promised, Arthur was in her corner. This wasn’t her time of need, per se, but he knew she would have him when it arrived.

“I suppose so, although… I’m not going to be responsible for the court of public opinion,” he gestured to everyone in the camp, frantically working around just to keep themselves busy. With all the chaos going on, it’s the only thing they can do not to sit and gossip, which they do anyway. 

“I reckon I better keep her away from Susan?” 

“With a ten foot pole, preferably,” Dutch rolled his eyes. That woman was full of determination, and it could be both a great strength, as well as her worst weakness. 

Arthur smiled, ready to go make good on a promise he’d been waiting on for some time. “I’ll catch you later then.”

“Alright, Arthur.”

-

You didn’t know if Arthur’s conversation with Dutch would benefit you or condemn you, but you didn’t stick around to find out. He’d found you saddling your horse, just in case a hasty escape needed to be made. Yes, perhaps your delusions were getting a bit out of hand. 

“Where you goin’?”

“Depends,” you started, “How mad is he?”

Arthur huffed and grabbed your wrist, stilling your movements. “He ain’t mad.”

“No?” You could hardly believe it. “He seemed riled up to me.”

“I talked to him,” he explained, but gave no further intel. 

“You got magic words or somethin’?” You chuckled, slightly more relaxed since the news came better than you hoped, and Arthur wasn’t dragging you back to be punished or anything. “What’d you tell him?” 

“That you were gonna be loyal… and that you’d been scared.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes, trying to play off his last words like they weren’t true. “I ain’t scared.”

“Really? You were about to run, weren’t you?” He pointed to your full saddle bag and stocked up horse, ready to disappear at a moment’s notice. 

You caved. 

“He gave me a little fright is all,” you toed your boot into the dirt as you spoke, looking back up to find him nodding at your horse. 

“Climb up, let’s go to town before closing time,” he walked around to the other side where his horse was hitched from earlier today, still saddled since Bill hadn’t made his rounds yet. 

You complied, but were unsure of the motives for such a trip. 

“Is Dutch paying you to take me somewhere? He want you to kill me quietly?” 

It was just a joke, but he was getting tired of the overly dramatic interactions. He wasn’t sure what all transpired in your past, albeit knowing more than everyone else… even still, he figured there had to be something that gave you your theatrical touch. 

“Knock it off, would ya?”

“Sorry.”

The ride wasn’t long, but the sun was down when you both tied your horses to the poll in front of the general store. You’d been in here a few times, and the man behind the counter always cowered in fear of Texas Red the unkillable. No matter your manners or gentility, that’s just how it was. 

“What’re we doin’ here?” You adjusted your hat, wiping some sweat off your forehead and following him up the front steps. 

“I remember sayin’ I’d get you a dress a while back, we’re here to make good on it.”

You stopped in your tracks, a wide smile blossoming on your face when you heard him say it. He’d remembered, and been waiting for it since the night he uttered the words. 

He noticed you weren’t close behind him, and turned, catching the sweet expression you wore, but brushing it off with a sideways smile. 

“C’mon now, gotta pick it out.” 

You followed after him, and once inside, the man behind the counter seemed to be nervous, as usual. He didn’t seem to be weary of having you both in, just a bit anxious. Arthur knew his presence held power, but he figured with your reputation in this town, and others around… your presence was bound to hold more. 

“What can I do for you? Need more socks?” The man asked you kindly, and you shook your head, a small laugh escaping you. 

“No, we’re uh… we’re here to get a dress for my wife,” Arthur spoke evenly, his confidence showing through when he had to put on a show. 

Your head snapped to him, and though you knew he was intending to buy the dress for you, a thought sprang into your mind. Abigail. She was going to be his wife. 

This sweet little moment, with Arthur keeping his promise, and making a big to-do over your acceptance into camp, was all part of your own little fantasy. It wouldn’t last, and when you returned to camp, he’d be with her again, helping with Jack. You tried to shake the thought from your mind, wanting to enjoy this sliver of time with him. 

“Of course! I’ve got a new selection,” he pulled out the catalog, and opened the pages to a section with different types of skirts, petticoats, chemises, and corsets. All were beautiful, but your eye was drawn to a more simple style. It was a work dress, which would be far more practical for you than any of the other ones. 

“I’m not too good with all this. What do you think, Red? Which one would she like best?” He tossed you a smirk, leaning his elbow on the counter while he let you browse over the pages a bit longer, turning them over with a furrowed brow of focus. 

“What color does this one come in?” You asked the man over the counter, keeping your act up, but letting your hints of excitement show through. 

“That one is a nice pale blue, perfect for spring and summer time,” he spoke firmly, becoming more relaxed the longer you both were in the store. Yes, he’d heard the whispers, and for you, he’d actually seen your acts of a quick trigger. But here, you didn’t seem like a threat, so he stopped acting like you were.

“Blue, huh… Might bring out her eyes a bit, hey Arthur?” Now it was your turn to smirk, and he chuckled, nodding back to you and tapping the page twice with a heavy finger. 

“You’re right it would, make em’ look like crystal,” he played along, making you blush under the brim of your hat, unbeknownst to the man behind the counter. 

“It’s gotta be that one, then.”

Arthur chuckled, counting out the cash that the dress price was listed under, tossing it down on the counter and nodding to the man. 

“You heard the kid, we’ll take that one,” he spoke in a playful tone, ignoring the movements of the man as he scurried to the back rooms, getting your dress pieces together. 

Arthur lifted the brim of your hat, and smiled genuinely at the look on your face. It was excited, sweet, and grateful. He wanted to buy you the entire stock of the store just to ensure that look stayed on your face, no matter the irrationality of it. He’d become quite accustomed to giving you his time and his efforts, and this was no different. The only difference is that now he wanted to, wholeheartedly. The deal you’d struck with him, the one where you were going to teach him your methods of shooting faster, were now null and void. He didn’t want to take anything from you, he just wanted to give.

When the store worker returned with a large box in hand, Arthur thanked him for his time, carrying the thing over his shoulder and heading for the door, which you opened for him. 

Getting outside, you went for the horses, but he stopped you with a swat of your hand away from the reins. 

“Can’t go back yet, gotta see how this looks on ya,” he insisted, nodding for you to follow him yet again. He walked for a bit before coming up on the shed with a small lantern inside. It looked like it only housed tools and ropes and things of the like, but there was space enough to change in. “Came across this when I was out one day. Took a whole nap before someone realized I was in here.” 

“How convenient,” you teased, taking the box from his hands and eagerly walking into the confined space. 

“I’ll be out here,” he mumbled as you shut the door, putting a shovel against it since it didn’t really even close all the way. 

You knew he wasn’t the peeping type, so you began tearing away at your clothes, the ones that had been worn completely through by now and needed replacing anyway. You had more back at camp, but you had always missed dresses. This would be the first of many you would probably buy for yourself, but it was going to remain your favorite, because of who it came from. 

It was just like clock work, muscle memory helping you to remember all the little ties and snaps that needed to be in place, the corset laces that needed to be pulled enough to fit the outer fabrics. You knew you probably needed a good hair brushing and face washing to actually look like a young woman again, but for now, the dress was doing wonders on your self esteem… or at least it did until you realized you couldn’t finish putting it on by yourself. The buttons on the back went up higher than your shoulder blades, and sat in a near impossible spot to reach. If there was a mirror, you could probably just contort yourself enough to get it together, but in a dark, barely lit tool shed, your options were limited. 

You sighed, pulling the shovel away from the door and peaking your head outside. Arthur had nearly gone through an entire cigarette in the time you took to change. 

“Arthur?” You asked timidly. 

“M’here, you alright?” 

“I can’t reach the back,” you admitted, just slightly embarrassed. “Can you give me a hand?” 

He was all too happy to comply, stomping out the cigarette on the ground and taking quick steps to reach you. “Turn around.”

You did as he told you, turning so he had access to the open back of the dress. He couldn’t see you all too well in this light, but even from what he could see, a few words entered his mind from a past conversation you had with him. 

I used to be quite the stunner… and he surely believed it. 

His fingers caressed the exposed skin of your back before buttoning the fabric closed, smoothing it down over your shoulders and watching the way it fit you perfectly. 

“Don’t mention this to Abigail,” you joked, turning back around and trying to keep the mood light. It was beginning to feel too intimate, and you knew you couldn’t allow yourself to feel that way with Arthur anymore. 

“Why?” 

“Well, I might be a bit old fashioned, but isn’t it frowned upon for a taken man to be helping another woman with her dress?” 

It was just another joke, but he seemed to be completely thrown off by the implications. 

“I ain’t a taken man,” he confessed, looking at you with a stare that was all too deep, and all too consuming. He needed to stop that, but you didn’t have the heart to make him. 

“Not yet,” you corrected, but again it was you in the wrong. 

“No,” he shook his head, trying to bring a serious tone to the conversation. “I’m not gonna marry Abigail.”

Your face screwed up in confusion, thinking about all the times when he collapsed in her tent with Jack, just to get up and help him in the night. He was Jack’s new father, wasn’t he? That was the deal he made. 

“Why not? I thought that you were- well since you were helping with Jack and… what about your deal?”

“I said I was gonna do right by this boy, and I am… But Abigail won’t have me,” he shrugged, admitting to the rejection she gave of his offer. “She’s still in love with John, n’ I can understand it.”

It should have made you feel a bit of sadness, to know that even with all that Arthur was, someone would turn him away like that. ‘Abigial won’t have me’ sounded like perhaps he thought himself not good enough, just as he always does. Despite all of this, you didn’t feel sorrow, you felt an abundance of joy. A wide smile spread across your cheeks, and he furrowed his brow. 

“What’re you smilin’ about?”

“Nothing,” you dropped the smile and shook it off, running a hand up his arm and giving it a sincere squeeze. “I’m sorry, Arthur. I know you’ve meant well.”

“S’alright. Hosea’s been tellin’ me since Jack was born that I shouldn’t have offered. He doesn’t think we’re right for one another, somethin’ like that.” 

“I agree, you’re not right for each other,” you spoke out loud, though that thought was meant only for your head. 

Arthur seemed to be catching on slightly to your behavior, stepping a bit closer and staring downwards at you. 

“Yeah? And who am I right for?” He teased, watching the redness of your cheeks spread down your neck and shoulders with every breath you took. 

“I guess we’ll just have to wait and find out,” you did your best to counter his taunts, stepping away from him and going to collect your old clothes from the shed. Once they were in hand you turned back to the opening of the alley, making way for the horses. “You coming?” 

And of course, he followed, shaking his head and chuckling under his breath. 

-

The next day fared better than you thought it would, if you’re being honest. 

You didn’t really know why, if Dutch had said anything, or if Hosea did, but after you returned to camp the previous night, everyone seemed to be acting just fine. They treated you differently for sure, but not badly. In fact, you noticed the men had a certain kind of reverence to you that they never held before. The same they did with the other women. 

Maybe it was just the beautiful dress that Arthur bought for you, the light and pure color of it giving you a sense of being ethereal, having finally exposed the raw feminine beauty that was hiding for so long. You reckon you’d even start growing out your hair again, as the short style coming to your chin was not how you preferred to have it in the first place.

You still went to work doing the same tasks you normally did, but were careful not to rip your dress or over-exert yourself, given you were still in the same physical condition as the day before. 

“Charl- I mean, Miss Brooks?” 

You heard a voice chirp softly from beside you, and you dropped the wagon supplies for now to walk over to the owner of said voice, Tilly.

“Yes, Miss Tilly?” You extended a smile, and she smiled back, albeit a tight and awkward one from where she was sitting. You took a step or two closer, and she had to shake her head after getting a better look at you. 

“I just-” she cut herself short on account of the words already jumbling in her head. “I don’t want there to be any awkwardness between us.”

You furrowed your brow to her, unsure of what she could have possibly meant. 

“Why would there be?” 

“Well, if you can recall,” she started, a nervous chuckle in her speech. “I tried to make some… advances towards you. Back when I thought you were uh… a young man.”

You smiled again and ducked your head, a scoff of laughter and a nod of your head brought about less tension. It was no big deal. 

“Don’t worry yourself, Miss Tilly. I was the one who tricked ya, I oughta be apologizing. Probably should to Abigail, too.”

“Abigail?”

You tilted your head, recalling the scene. About two weeks before Jack was born. You’d done the same thing Arthur did, with not a care of revealing yourself in the future. 

“Before John even left, I offered her to be Jack’s ‘father’ when he was born. I guess I was pretty certain at the time no one was gonna find out,” you explained, leaning against the wagon she sat by, mending a shirt that looked like Arthur’s. You could tell by the wear and tear around the shoulders, where his broadness likely just caused the fabric to break down faster. 

“Could you really have gone on like that?” 

“I don’t know,” you pondered, another small laugh escaping you. “Maybe not, since I had to tell everyone I was eighteen just for them to believe it.”

“You aren’t eighteen?” She seemed surprised. Maybe you just had a young face. 

“No, ma’am. Twenty two nearing twenty three as a matter of fact.”

“I’ll say,” she tutted, throwing down the shirt she was finished with, and picking up a new one. “You had us all convinced. Makes me wonder where you really came from.”

You thought about telling her, but the story was long and today was a busier day than before. There was actual work to be done in preparing for the next job, a few days ahead. 

“Some place I didn’t wanna be,” you chided, stepping away from the wagon, nodding to her in thanks for the small chat. “I’ll let you get back to it.”

“Alright. I’ll catch you around,” she spoke sweetly, a kind look of relaxation on her face, now that she knew where she stood. 

You went back to work, making sure that neither Dutch nor Hosea saw you with idle hands today. You wanted to make sure that no matter what happened now, you wouldn’t be cast aside. You still had the abilities they needed, but with a skirt on your hips, they saw you differently, and it was up to you to show them you were not going to be ignored when it came to jobs in the future. 

You hated that the rest of the women in camp were just seen as stationary helpers, only capable of mending clothes or cleaning up the camp, or even just laying the groundwork in town for the men to actually pull jobs. You’ve seen Abigail in action, she was smart and cunning and had a great way with words, she could be the difference in things staying civil or having a shoot out during a quiet robbery, but the men overlook her gifts. You know the women in this camp have great potential, and perhaps if they let you continue as you have been, they will open the opportunities for the others as well.

Tags: @photo1030 @sheepdogchick @snoopysshark @strvberrydoll @yyiikes @phantasyy @puffyhairedhipster @scorpio-echo @hollyskjlap

[pookietv]

aquatic missile | arthurtv

had this idea that i thought was adorable so here

have a little arthur with a crush on a marine biologist !!!!

after arthur had moved to london, finally getting somewhat used to the area he had moved to, he had become slightly socially worn out from seeing his friends much more often, being exposed to many more social situations all whilst trying to unpack and organise his new flat.

so he had decided to abandon his responsibilities for the day to go to the aquarium, which was honestly one of the things he had been looking forward to most when moving to a bigger city then he was used to, the museums, zoos, and aquariums he could finally visit.

he was happy going alone, wanting to unwind, his headphones hanging from his neck, ready to play some music as he strolled through and gawked at all the sea life.

when he walked into the lobby, he noticed the place was quite empty, but it didn't wholly surprise him - it was 11am on a tuesday, most people were probably at work or school, and he had somewhat been glad it was empty.

he walked up to the desk, slightly looking up at the woman at the desk before back down to his feet for a moment.

the worker was quite pretty.

"hi, can i help you?" the woman spoke, in a sweetly helpful way.

"hello, i just wanted to get a ticket?" he said, a little quietly.

"just a one day general admission?" she asked, and he confirmed with a nod of his head.

"yeah, that sounds good to me," he nodded, his eyes slightly crinkling as he offered her a slightly awkward smile.

"have you been before? we have a little leaflet with a map in that might help if you'd like one, you can obviously just wander as you please but if theres specific things you'd like to see, they're all labelled in here," she offered, placing a small blue coloured leaflet on the desk, his fingers gently reaching to take it, nodding gratefully.

"oh, thank you, yeah.. i mean, i love all the sea creatures but i do really like the sharks," he admitted with a small laugh, and she nodded, giggling a little herself.

"oh, me too.. the sharks are my favourite by a mile, i even have a specific favourite shark, they actually let me name her," she smiled, and his eyes lit up.

"no way, really? what did you call her?" he asked, clearly interested.

"a little rogue but i called her missile," she said bashfully, and he laughed.

"that is very cool." he confirmed, and she blushed a little with a nod.

arthur handed her the money for the ticket, taking it from her with a small thanks as he headed his way into the aquarium.

he could easily spend hours in the aquarium, and he did, meandering slowly and stopping at each small fish that he could see, reading all the boards with the facts on, and by the time he had even looked down at his phone he noticed it was already 2pm, and he was approaching the shark section of the aquarium, a grin on his face at the prospect.

he had barely ran into anyone whilst walking through the winding path of the place, and in the shark section he could only see one person in the whole big area, a big glass tunnel, someone hunched over on a bench, eating and watching the sharks on the other side.

he began slowly walking around, his head focussed on looking up at the glass, watching the sharks swim around, even over his head when he was lucky before he heard noise.

"oh, hi again," a small familiar voice said, and he turned to the girl eating, who had lifted her head up - the worker from before.

"hello," he said, smiling a little, "must be very cool to be able to eat here on your lunch break," he joked a bit, and she nodded.

"uh huh, one of my favourite parts of the day, checking on missile... and of course all the other sharks, i love them all. though, feeding time is also pretty cool,"

"feeding them would be so cool," he nodded in confirmation. "which one is missile?" he asked curiously, and she grinned.

"the one that swam over your head before," she laughed slightly, putting down her box of pasta and standing up for a second, slightly closer to him before pointing upwards, at a spotted slightly smaller shark, "that's missile, she's a leopard shark,"

"what about the others? do you know all their names?" he asked, and she nodded, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear.

"that's david, he's a lemon shark... that's haribo, he's a gummy shark, that ones called eve, she's a nurse shark... and the rest are hiding somewhere, but we have hammerheads, angel sharks and cow sharks hiding round here somewhere," she laughed a little, shrugging, "some of them like the attention more then others,"

"so you're really interested in sharks? or is it just a thing where you know a lot from working near them?" arthur asked, and she nodded again.

"i studied marine biology, i usually work more behind the scenes but on quiet days i work behind the desk too, but yeah, i love sharks, and just sea animals on a whole... i mean, i even have a shark tattoo," she giggled. "what about you, you just here to see them or do you have an interest?"

"oh, um, i have an interest in animals in general, and i just moved to london, so i wanted to come see the aquarium 'cause i've never been before," he admitted, and she nodded.

"i do love the aquarium, it's so peaceful, i mean sometimes i come in even on my days off, which in most jobs seems so bizarre but, i don't know, i just love it here."

and that's how arthur ended up frequenting the aquarium more than he intended to, over the past month going at least six times, enjoying the aquarium (and secretly hoping to run into the girl who he had become just a small bit infatuated with but had only admitted that to his close friends, who in turn obviously mocked him)

"you literally don't even know this girls name," george laughed when arthur had admitted he may have had a tiny crush on her after telling them about going to the aquarium for the fourth time in two weeks.

"well, obviously i know that, but i mean, i can't find out unless i see her again, can i?"

"only arthur could go to an aquarium and randomly fall in love with a girl just because she spoke to him about sharks," chris said sarcastically, and arthur rolled his eyes at him, his face red.

"she was cool, okay? she literally gets to name and feed and pet sharks, that is cool!" he defended himself in a splutter of embarrassment, only leading to slightly more giggles

when he next went, and he had paid for his ticket with someone else at the desk, and began his wander around the museum, he heard a slightly teasing voice once in the shark exhibit.

"you know, you could have saved yourself a lot of money if you had just bought a monthly pass," a giggling voice said, and he turned around to her with a slightly red face and a shrug.

"didn't realise i was gonna end up coming so much," he admitted with flushed cheeks.

"just become obsessed with the sharks, eh?" she asked, and he gulped down with another shy nod.

"uh huh. and, um. well, kinda hoping to run into you, also," he acknowledged, only to hear her laugh a little more.

"stalking me now, are you?" she asked, only to make his eyes widen

"no, not like that! just that, you know, i thought you were interesting and that-" she laughed a little harder now,

"i'm just kidding, don't worry about it. you do know there's other ways to see girls you find interesting other then hoping to bump into them at work?" she teased.

"well, that's what i was hoping to ask, you know... if i could maybe see you not in the shark section of the aquarium? like a date?" he asked, fiddling with his fingers a little.

"sure, that sounds nice," she smiled at him, "though, you don't even know my name," she teased.

"well, what is your name?" arthur asked, slight more confidence in his voice and a small smile on his face, slightly reassured that she had said yes.

"whats yours? i mean, for all i know you're some stalker who frequents aquariums looking for victims," she teased, leading him to jokingly roll his eyes.

"my name is arthur, and i promise it was not stalking... just thought you were smart, and pretty, so.. what's your name?"

"suppose you'll have to find that out on the date, hm, arthur?

[meeks-just-wants-to-scroll]

hi 🐊 since youre asking for them ^-^ .

im having a lot of thoughts about the micah/bill/javier dynamics and also the ways bill and javier almost seem to reflect the main two sides of micah we see (quiet, brooding, thoughtful, and terrifying vs impulsive, boistrous, rowdy, and scary) and how different their relationships with micah are, but also how they both come together when they soend time as a trio ^-^ id love to hear your thoughts on all this :)

Thank you!! I am happy the F of a Feather triad got you thinking about this.

Agreed, interesting how Javier and Bill seem so far apart in personality but somehow have a common tie between Micah.

I don’t actually have a whole lot to say… I work best when I have other fan works to build off of but so many drawings and fan fics go shallow with anything relating to the triad or even the pairs that make up the triad. The most that comes to my head is the same pitch I’ve said in almost every post relating to them.

- but to try and make something worth reading… -

Javier and bill pairing with Micah could come from Micah either matching the energy or balancing the energy of the other.

—

Micah and Javier:

I can see Javier and Micah having a nice night together by accidentally sharing quality time together: parallel play with Micah shining his weapons and Javier practicing his guitar.

I notice in game that Javier sometimes stop playing if arthur approaches, which makes me think Javier is a bit reserved and him letting people be around him while he does something is special.

Micah tries his hardest to ignore others when he is at the campfire shining his weapons, but he secretly dislikes having other people around him.

And so the both of them are at the campfire and are bemused to realize they don’t mind the other’s presence: Micah doesn’t dislike the guitar plucking, and Javier doesn’t mind the flashes of motion as Micah aims and fires his empty revolver.

…

But micah and Javier could also be boisterous dorks I am suuure. Javier is in his 20’s, so is Charles. As much as the fandom likes to treat them as perfect, neither man is this flawless chill man who never does wrong and never makes brash decisions. Give micah and Javier some alcohol and I am sure both will be thrown in a jail cell like the Strawberry situation with Micah and Lenny.

I wanna see more missions with Micah and Javier and what their dynamic would be. Javier is very much a back-up gunman, but he can lead his own smaller missions. He can do stuff solo but benefits from having someone with more seniority by his side. Micah is not higher ranked than him in the gang, but he has a longer life of gunman expertise that can prove helpful.

Micah can cook up one hell of a plan for things. His plans leave too much “I have my guns, I have you, what other planning do we need?” for Javier’s comfort, hence how he can flesh out Micah’s plan. Perhaps it feels less like one is nodding the other around and trampling each other’s egos since both of them sculpted the plan.

So basically they should get tipsy and decide to follow through on a lead for money together. Micah prefers stagecoach robberies (for the thrill!), Javier likes ambush missions. I am sure if Javier could convince Micah, he too could enjoy ambush missions. Or maybe he’d see it as too easy, like shooting fish in a bucket.

—

Micah and Bill:

Micah and Bill are troublesome together but they can actually be amicable???? Wow???

Their two of them can definitely be rough. They will literally get in a fist fight if not stopped, tho it’s rare micah actually initiates a fist fight he doesn’t see himself winning. They draw out the worst in each other. They argue and pick at each other because in the pecking order of the gang, Micah is a rookie and there is less push back for Micah to prod at a gang member who is already held in low respects.

But overall they’re actually quite chill with each other. As chill as they can be. They have that silent mutual destruction that closeted gay men have.

They can share a moment where it’s just the two of them awake late at night and neither has to say a word. Micah doesn’t like people talking to him late at night, and Bill always fumbles over his words when he is tired (regardless of if he is drunk or not).

In the cold, Bill and Micah can stand next to each other and not immediately start drawing blood. They can just exist in a space and not see it as a competition.

They can go on missions and return with no bullet holes in their bodies, sometimes they even return with cash or watches! They can work, but they work best when they have a third person to keep the peace in case anything goes wrong. Who is a pretty level-headed guy who can pull his own? Wink wink: Javier.

—

Woof ngl I don’t know where I was going with this all. I’ve been scatter brained and chipping away at answering your asks.

I am glad you’re interested in F of a Feather!

[vickyvicarious]

I like the breakdown of jobs today too. As fitting as everyone's reaction to the bad news, honestly, or at least in keeping with a lot of preexisting patterns.

Now let us organize. You, friend Arthur, go to the train and get the tickets and arrange that all be ready for us to go in the morning. Do you, friend Jonathan, go to the agent of the ship and get from him letters to the agent in Galatz, with authority to make search the ship just as it was here. Morris Quincey, you see the Vice-Consul, and get his aid with his fellow in Galatz and all he can do to make our way smooth, so that no times be lost when over the Danube. John will stay with Madam Mina and me, and we shall consult. For so if time be long you may be delayed; and it will not matter when the sun set, since I am here with Madam to make report." "And I," said Mrs. Harker brightly, and more like her old self than she had been for many a long day, "shall try to be of use in all ways, and shall think and write for you as I used to do.

Arthur gets transportation. He's bankrolling this, yes, but also once again getting people where they need to be.

Jonathan is once again the man on the ground getting the chance to follow the trail of the remaining box. Not to mention, he is acquiring documents.

Quincey is also a rich boy, so he goes to talk to the important people. He's charming too so that fits. But as much as we've been told he is a leader among the suitors, we also see him consistently try to support his friends however he can. In that way it makes sense for him to be the one who does the talking and fills in where needed.

Van Helsing lays down all of these directions in the first place. He takes action first and gives out the jobs. By staying behind himself he intends to try and figure out their enemy further. He directs the others and does research.

Jack doesn't exactly get a job of his own. But he is trusted by his fellow doctor in a way none of the others are, and so is invited to the planning session. As he has since the man first arrived, he follows along with Van Helsing while observing the situation.

Mina sort of gets the job of helping to consult here. But she's also being 'looked after' and seen as a resource to potentially spy on Dracula again, and it becomes clear she wasn't necessarily expected to understand the ideas being discussed without them being explained to her. However, we see her speak up her and later on in the discussion with the doctors (much more than Jack in fact), surprising Van Helsing with the extent of what she already knows. By deciding to take up her typing of documents again, as well as interpreting Dracula's likely next move, she makes plans and shares information.

[mysticsublimeperson]

Part 1 >>

Merlin was disappointed, but mostly at himself. He always knew that Arthur would never actually be in a relationship with him, he will humor Merlin sure, he would tell people as long as they didn’t know Uther, and there weren’t risks of his father finding out, he would say that he loved Merlin but then did shit like this all the time. He would cancel plans and dates, and once even a week long trip that they had planned in favor of his father, and his company. Sometimes he would even cancel Merlin to have a date with one of the girls that Uther threw his way.

Usually it didn’t bother him that much, of course it hurt but he had known Arthur for most of their lives, they had been friends before… whatever they were now, he had always been like this and Merlin had always permitted it. He guess he never thought about asking for a change before, so that’s also his fault.

But he had been trying, it was sad enough when Arthur missed his birthday dinner Merlin had cooked, because his father had booked a flight to France, but he could understand it, it was his birthday, it was normal to spend it with one’s family. He made a point to tell him, tell him he was sad about this stuff, tell him when a plan was important to him, tell him when his words were too harsh or hurtful. It usually didn’t stick, they were to used to say shit jokingly but a few things he did, and he’ll try his best to keep his promises unless Uther was in the picture.

He knew the situation with his father was tense at best, Arthur had always fought for his approval, and, aware or not, that was still his primary concern. He knew he had no right to get between their relationship, and knew he would be losing that battle before it began. He didn’t doubt Arthur’s feelings for him, but he could not help but doubt whether they were worth fighting for in his mind. In the end Merlin had always been there, he had always been prone to forgiveness, because he cared for Arthur above all, in the moment he didn’t really notice but in retrospect he really didn’t put much of a fight.

But he had done it this time. He had made sure his voice was heard. He had said that this night was important to him, he had made sure to tell him to save the date in advance and to explain several times what this night was about and what was important to him. He made sure Arthur knew the date, the time, the place, the dress code and the reason.

Merlin was excited.

His organization and research were going to be awarded, and if it all went well he may end the night with the funding necessary to keep the NGO going and even maybe expand some projects.

But then Arthur had wrote, “my father is in town” and then a couple of minutes later “sorry”

When Uther was in town, that meant that night he had to have a dinner with his children, a boring and stuffy dinner in a top restaurant to expensive for Merlin to even look at, and sometime he invited the daughters of some friend of his just for them to get to know each other.

He breathed slowly, looking at the message, here in front of the theater where the Gala was going to take place, dressed up all fancy. Trying to decide how to convey in a text message all the things that he was feeling.

He was going to be awarded, celebrated god damn it. It was unfair, it was terribly unfair for Arthur to do this just before the Gala, he was supposed to be happy and now he only wanted to go home.

He had wanted to share this moment with him and maybe He had also hoped to show off a little, Arthur was a very important person by definition. Maybe he had wanted to show Arthur that Merlin also had value.

But none of that mattered now.

He had gone to the Gala, alone. Regretting the moment he decided to invite Arthur instead of Gwen, he had put a smile on his face and turned off his phone, he had drunk Champagne and eating those mini tart of savory food with strange textures and tried to enjoy the evening with his colleagues. He had gone up the stage a grand total of three times, one to present, the other two to receive the great honor that were those awards. He had smiled, and changed the speech on the go to not mention “one special more than a friend” he had answered the questions of the reporters and declined the offer of his colleagues to extend the evening.

And now he was there. In a bench in a park eating a Kebap in a too-fancy-for-this place suit, next to a fancy bag, which contained two fancy boxes of two really important awards, while questioning his relationship.

He had seen cases like this all the time, he dedicated his life to help people in this kinds of situations, more or less, his relationship wasn’t dangerous of violent, and he was very much independent but the root of the problem was the same. The relationship was destined for failure.

They clearly wanted different things.

They had different ideologies, and priorities.

It was a disaster waiting to happen.

But it hurts so much.

He was freezing, but he still ordered another Kebap, he hadn’t been able to eat because of the nerves all day and it was catching with him.

He needed to make a decision.

He couldn’t keep going like this.

This was supposed to be a happy night.

He walked up to his flat, quietly thinking to find Arthur sitting in front of his door.

“Where were you?” Arthur accused upon seen him.

Merlin let his eyebrows go up. Trying to remember that it was early in the morning, and his neighbors were sleeping.

“Shit, sorry… it’s just… I been calling you and…”

“Get away from the door Arthur” he let the voice come out angry but he didn’t really want to talk right now.

“Of course, yeah, sorry” If this were any other situation, Merlin would had joked about the fact that Arthur never tended to say sorry, but right now that made him rather sad.

He opened the door and walked inside, and blocked the way when Arthur tried to do the same, just letting his tired expression do the job, he was way too tired and he had eaten two Kebap in a shop open at 2 am, and was starting to regret it.

“Merlin, I… Look I know today… I am sorry Merlin, it was a shit show at work, and my father came at the worst possible moment and…” he said trying to coax his way into the flat, but Merlin didn’t move “Can I enter? I think we need to talk… I need to apologize properly and explain my self and…”

“No” he stoped the Arthur’s babbling “It’s been a rather long day, and I want to rest” his voice was maybe a bit too loud and hard “and I don’t wanna talk right now” he added honestly.

“Ok.. yeah, I understand” he clearly didn’t, but at least was trying to or having a stroke, either way not Merlin problem right now. “Can I..?”

“Go home Arthur” Merlin stopped Arthur again.

“I hoped this was it” Arthur said sharp. And Merlin didn’t have the fight to shout all the shit he wanted to say.

“Not while your father is in town”

Merlin closed the door. He stunned Arthur enough to do it without a fight. And he could only hope that he had the common decency to not bring his door down at four in the morning. He had wanted to do a lot, but he was way to tired, physically and emotionally so he just laid off the bed and slept.

[nthspecialll]

I believe Javier was on Arthur and John's side, at least he would have been if he had understood the situation. Javier likes Dutch due to the fact that he saved him, clothed, fed, gave him a job and a family, but Javier isn’t really friends with Dutch, he is more of an employer than anything. This differes from John and Arthur who also sees Dutch as a family member, someone to spend their free time with, someone they talk to a lot, they chit chat with him and they are there during planning of heists, Javier is not.

Javier is never there during the plannings, he doesn’t talk to Dutch, he just joins when another gun is needed, because of that he never notices that Dutch is slipping, he might just see a string of bad luck leading to unsuccessful jobs but not that Dutch isn’t doing right.

Javier obviously sees that John and Arthur is acting up but he doesn’t understand why. Like when a child is crying, you know they are trying to communicate but you might not understand what they are trying to tell you. Some gets angry at the child, others gets fustrated because they want to understand but they don’t. I believe Javier is the second, he isn’t angry, he doesn’t hate John or Arthur, he is frustrated because he doesn’t understand why they are acting up because he doesn’t see Dutch like they do. And like when a child is throwing a tantrum you might side with the parent because you are confused, if you knew why the child was crying you would help feed or put them to bed, you would stop the screaming, you would side with the baby, but when you don’t, you side with the one you can communicate with, the one you understand, the familiar one, the parent, in this case Dutch.

I am sure that Javier was confused when Dutch left John shot and Abigail kidnapped which might be why he was set as a lookout because he acted up too, he confronted Dutch about how wrong it felt, and Dutch knew to separate him from the rest.

We see Javier asking Arthur "what happened to loyalty?" in camp and I think this is more him trying to find out what is going on than him blaming Arthur.

In the final stand off he was, as said, lookout, he wasn't there when it began, all he saw were people pointing guns at each other and although there was a crack in the trust he had towards Dutch he most likely still believed that Dutch would have a plan, a plan to fix everything because until then he had had one. When Javier was trapped on Guama, Dutch did come to help (I believe it to be because he knew he needed Javier), meanwhile both John and Arthur had experienced Dutch leaving them to death, something that Javier did not see.

When Javier comes to see the stand off, he sides with Dutch, because again, he trusts Dutch, Dutch is familiar, and he doesn’t fully understand why the other two are acting up. I have heard some discussion on if Javier pointed his gun at the others or not, I believe he did not, and I believe it to be because he did not see a reason to turn on the others, he doesn’t dislike them, he in fact still likes them he is just confused and annoyed.

I think that right after the two groups parted ways Javier finally exploded on Dutch and asked for an explanation as to why he had turned on Arthur and John, but didn’t get an explanation so he headed back for Mexico.

I think that he never developed a hatred towards John or Arthur, he genuinely still saw them as family but when he saw John's obvious aggression towards him in rdr1 he first tries to escape, but when he realises it isn’t going to work he does spit some verbal aggression as well to defend himself and in a way get back at John for the anger.

That is what I believe and as a thank you for reading all that, here is some low quality Javier.