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feyhunter78 · 2 months

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I’m actually DYING for part 14 of the Dreadful Need of the Devotee, like my pain is clinical and your writing is the only thing that will cure me 🙏

No rush of course, I’m just in love with this story!! (But please, I need it badly)

I got you babe!!!! Enjoy <3

Chapter Fourteen - Ser Arthur Dayne has returned to court. Ch 15

Jon sits in Tyrion’s solar, the small table that sits between you all laden down with breakfast foods and teas. He is seated across from Tyrion, while you are seated next to Jon across from Ser Arthur, your soon-to-be good-father.

Introductions had gone well, you complimented his father, he complimented you, your betrothal was announced, and Jon had to keep himself from kissing you. The joy that radiated from you was so intense, he could not help but smile like a lovesick fool. But now, now the doubts begin to creep in.

If he had been told at the age of two and ten, he would be sitting with his soon-to-be wife a Lannister, the Imp Lannister and Ser Arthur Dayne the Sword of the Morning who was also his true father, Jon would not have believed whoever spoke such things to him. Truly he would have thought them playing a cruel joke, but now he sat in that very position wondering if it would all be revealed a horrid prank. A test to see how much the bastard boy could be convinced to believe.

You place your hand atop Jon’s where it rests on his knee, your brows furrowing in concern, and he waves you off, focusing on the meal set in front of him. You and him often broke fast together, and it was not too uncommon for your father to join the both of you, but this time it was different.

“Lady y/n, your father tells me you are a talented seamstress.” His father says, cutting into his sausage, his eyes, those dark purple eyes, so like Jon’s in the right light, observe you with an oddly formal air.

“I am, in fact the tunic Jon is wearing this morn is one I made myself.” You say, gracing Jon with a smile so bright it rivals the sun, and he turns further towards you following it as crops do, ever reaching, ever seeking your warmth and light.

His father hums in acknowledgement, examining every stitch of his tunic. “It is well-made; and the embroidery is quite detailed. It is not what one would think a sworn sword would be given by his charge.”

“He is my champion, seen as an extension of myself, I would never leave my chambers in rags, or dull, dreary clothing, so why should my sworn sword?” You say, taking a sip of your tea, sizing the man up.

“An interesting perspective.” His father comments, his eyes flickering to Jon.

“I suppose so.” You respond, dabbing your mouth with your cloth napkin.

“She is also a wonderful dancer.” Jon adds, unsure of his place in the conversation. He has never before been privy to these situations, and it is both exhilarating and terrifying.

“I am only wonderful because I have such an excellent partner that allows me to keep my skills sharp.” You smile prettily at him, and he watches the mask slip into place, you are attempting to charm the father by charming the son.

“They are a most excellent pairing, even Robert before he oh so tragically passed said they would make a good couple.” Tyrion says, spreading strawberry jam onto a thick slice of bread.

If I were not a bastard. He said we would be a good match if I was not a bastard. Jon thought bitterly.

“It pains me to know my son had love within his grasp for so long and could not claim it, I would soon see that rectified.” His father says, pulling a folded letter from his pocket. “I have kept this for you, it is a signed statement from the septon that presided over your mother, and I’s wedding. It was quick, not the lavish affair I would have wished to give her, but it was true in the eyes of The Seven.”

Jon feels you lean into him, reading the letter along with him.

“I fear it will not be enough. Aunt Cersei tore up Uncle Robert’s will, what if someone does the same to this?” You ask.

“Your Uncle Robert was dead he could not defend his will, but Ser Arthur is here, in the flesh.” Tyrion says.

Jon folds the letter and returns it to his father. “When would this take place? I would like to inform my siblings; they should not hear it from strangers or gossip.”

“They know, Lord Stark told them and Lady Stark once I had confirmed Ser Arthur was alive and wished to see you.” Tyrion assures him.

Jon pokes at his eggs, the yolk running, yellow-orange liquid tainting the white outer edges. He is glad the truth is known, but will this change how they see him? Will little Arya no longer trust him, will she keep him at a distance as Sansa had now that he is revealed as an impostor, a stranger? And Robb, his brother, will he still call him by that name, will he still hold the same love for him? At least Lady Catelyn will no longer have reason to hate him, he is not proof of her husband’s indiscretions, but his love for his sister.

“Where does Jon fall in the line of succession for Starfell?” Y/N directs the question towards his father, bringing him out of his gloom-stricken thoughts. “I know Lord Edric Dayne is your eldest brother’s son, but he is still a child close to Arya’s age, and your sister does not yet have children, does this not make him third after you?”

His father smirks and leans forward, placing his elbows on the table. “Do you wish him to be second?”

You mimic his posture, voice deadly calm, face unreadable. “I do not condone the murder of children, even if it would catapult Jon to heir of Starfell. I was merely asking a question.”

His father laughs, the sound warm, boisterous, filling the room as he leans back in his chair. “Your father has taught you well, lioness. But yes, Jon is third, if Edric, Seven forbid, were to die then I would take the seat, and Jon would follow after me.”

“We need not worry about that though, he will be by my side at Casterly Rock, is that not right, Father?” You hold your position, eyes still on Jon’s father.

“I have not yet heard word back on our family’s succession, your grandsire still holds out hope that Jaime will leave the Kingsguard and return home.” Tyrion drawls, before taking a sip of his tea.

“But he will not, and even if he did, would it not be shameful?” You venture, stirring your own tea with the tiny spoon provided.

“We shall see what options lay before him when our new king takes the throne, he could take Jaime’s head.” Tyrion says, his eyes on his bread, he has still not taken a bite, Jon feels confident that Tyrion will not be eating this morn.

“I am sure Robb will be merciful to Uncle Jaime, perhaps he could send him to the Wall? As loathe I am to think of him being sent far away, I imagine his skills would be of good use there?” You turn to Jon for confirmation.

Jon’s stomach churns, he wishes to tell you the truth, that it matters not what Robb thinks. “Yes, they are always in need of skilled and hearty men.”

“Oh, and then we could visit him, could we not?” Again, your question is directed at him, and he fights back the bile rising in his throat. He did not like this new weight, this new secret he must keep from you.

“The Wall is a long journey, even from Winterfell.”

“No journey is too long when it comes to family.” You say, dismissing his spoken worries with a smile and a wave of your hand.

“Little lion, perhaps we save our travel plans for after the new king arrives?” Tyrion suggests, seeming unfazed by the half-truths that roll off his tongue.

“Of course, Father.” You say, giving him a smile and tucking back into your breakfast.

Jon cannot eat, he can barely swallow. He wants to tell you the truth, wants to throw you over his shoulder and run, run all the way to Winterfell and hide you there until all this chaos has subsided.

“I think a wedding in Dorne is completely out of the question Ser Arthur, do you really believe people would attend a Lannister wedding that is not held at Casterly Rock or the Red Keep?” Tyrion says, pulling him back into the conversation that had proceeded without him.

“But it is not a Lannister wedding, it is a Dayne wedding.” His father smiles, sending Jon a wink.

“My daughter is a Lannister, in the eyes of Westeros it is a Lannister wedding, and truly it must be held at Casterly Rock, gods know the Red Keep has seen enough weddings.”

“House Martell will not attend if it is at Casterly Rock, which means Myrcella will not attend.” His father reminds Tyrion.

“Father could it not be held somewhere more neutral? I so want Myrcella to be able to attend.” You ask, looking at him pleadingly.

“I am sure once the new king comes into power, the Martells will not hold the same anger towards our family as they once did.” Tyrion reassures you, reaching across the small circular table to pat your hand.

Yes, because all who they hold anger towards will be dead. Jon thinks solemnly, guilt eating him alive.

“I will trust you then.” You say, before turning to Jon’s father. “Ser Arthur, are there any marital traditions that you would like us to observed for the wedding?”

He thinks for a moment, resting his hand on his chin, the dark stubble so like Jon’s but flecked with gray. “There are none that come to my mind at the moment, but I will think on it and if any return to me, I will inform you.”

“No bedding ceremony.” Jon says, he will fight for this, not only to spare you the brutality, but as an apology for the secrets he must keep.

“I will not argue with that.” You laugh, picking up two strawberries and handing one to him as you bite into the other one.

Jon takes it from you, his teeth breaking the delicate flesh, the sweet juice tasting like ash on his tongue.

The look upon Cersei Lannister’s face when his father steps into Highgarden’s Great Hall, is enough to make Jon forget why he is even standing before the royal family. His father wears a cloak of lilac, the white sword and falling star crossed in the center proudly displayed, Dawn strapped to his side. His curls are cleaned and styled, his beard trimmed, his armor and boots shining. When he takes a knee bowing his head to Tommen, Jon does the same, feeling a flicker of excitement when their knees hit the floor at the same time. Perfect synchronicity.

“Ser Arthur?” The startled exhale of his father’s name escapes Ser Jamie’s lips before he can stop it, his conflicted expression betraying far more than simply shock. There is grief, rage, longing, and confusion all whirling within Ser Jamie’s widened emerald eyes.

“My King, I have come to ask that you legitimize my son. I have brought the parchment signed by the septon that married myself and Lady Lyanna Stark. Jon is not a snow, he is a Dayne, my trueborn and only child.”

Tommen does not move, does not speak, he looks at Margaery who has her hand in her grandmother’s.

“Let us see this parchment.” Lady Tyrell says, holding a wizened hand out.

His father rises, and Jon does as well, watching as he delivers the paper to Lady Tyrell, who shares it with Margaery.

“You were thought dead Ser Dayne, why did you not return to King's Landing to take up in the service of your new king when my husband ascended to the throne?” Cersei asks, her jade eyes alight with rage, sparking like wildfire.

“I was badly injured at the Tower of Joy and was unable to make the journey for many years.”

“Unable to make the journey and to retrieve your son, it seems.” Cersei drawls, skimming the parchment, then handing it to Ser Jaime.

Jon can see how his hands shake, the color draining from his face.

“I was told Lord Stark treated him kindly, as if he were his own son, it was better for him to remain there than at the bedside of a nearly crippled man.” The shame that colors his tone clearly tugs on Tommen’s heartstrings.

He has not dared to think what his life would have been like if he had lived with his father. All he knows is he would not have met you, and he does not consider that much a life at all.

Tommen clears his throat, looking at Margaery once more, she nods.

“Ser Dayne, you swore an oath, Kingsguard cannot marry or have children.” Cersei cuts in, stepping forward, her head held high.

Jon bites his tongue hard. The irony in her statement…

His father fares better, nodding his head towards her, his tone steady. “I am no longer a whitecloak, I lost the right to that title when I aided Prince Rhaegar in stealing away my dear Lyanna. I am only a knight of the realm now, Queen Mother.”

Tommen goes to speak, surely in agreement with his mother, but Margaery puts her hand on his arm and leans down to whisper in his ear.

Jon tries not to fidget, tries not to look at you, you who sits beside your father, dressed in a well-tailored gown the shade of pomegranates, your hair swept away from your face, a golden pendant around your neck. He will ruin it all if he looks at you.

His father puts a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly.

“In honor of my queen’s nameday I will grant her request. Ser Jon Snow, you shall no longer be a Snow, but a Dayne, Lord or Ser Jon, whichever you would like, of House Dayne, son of Ser Arthur Dayne the Sword of the Morning.” Tommen says, smiling brightly when Margaery plants a chaste kiss of thanks to his cheek.

His father gives his thanks, bowing low. Jon follows his example, keeping his expression grateful but neutral as they return to the sidelines, ducking behind the crowds of nobles as Tommen and Margaery begin to leave the hall. It is only when they have disappeared from view that his father embraces him, crushing him to his chest.

Jon returns the embrace, joy running wild through him.

His father pulls back, a wide smile on his tanned face. “My son, oh, it is good to say that aloud, to say it where anyone can hear. We must celebrate, do you have a preference for wine? ”

“No, Father.” Jon tests the word out, rolling it on his tongue, it feels strange but pleasant. “I do not.”

His father smiles. “We shall soon fix that, but first, you must return to your duties, no?” He jerks his head towards you.

Jon nods. “I must.”

TL: @mostclevermiss, @solacestyles, @2valentines, @sharknutz, @idohknow, @bdudette, @pluraldoggo, @legolastheleafyelf, @faerie-film, @wifiatthetrainstation, @duskypinki, @tartine-de-pain

#meg's writing #jon snow x reader #jon snow x y/n #jon snow x you #lannister!reader #jon snow imagine #got fanfiction #jon snow #Jon Dayne

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softrozene · 1 year

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Short and Feisty Female S/O that Likes to Cuddle

Ladymogar asked: Aaaye I’m always so happy to see new writing blogs in fandoms I love ❤️ could I get hcs for Arthur, Charles, John, and/or Sean for having a smol s/o? Like short and fiesty but also into cuddly times? Thanks doll, I’ve really enjoyed your writing so far!

rdr2 masterlist

I adored this request and had to do all the characters suggested AND I added Javier because he is delicious. I would say the reader in this is under 5’5” (165.1 cm) as that is what is considered short where I am from but it’s different everywhere! Anyway, I’m glad you enjoy my writings, Hon!

I did go off this link when I think of the characters’ heights!

Originally published on March 31, 2020

Arthur, Charlies, Javier, John, Sean x Female Reader

Warnings: Pure fluff

Arthur Morgan-

Honestly, for him, I think he would be so fucking smitten with you

You would literally be everything he wanted in a partner

Small (or well smaller than what he would’ve imagined) but so much cuter and god the fire in you? To die for

He can 100% see himself risking it all for you and going to settle down to have a family with you- but that’s the future for him

The present with the gang around he would be hard to read

Or that’s how he likes to imagine himself

The second you stroll up to him and have to crane your neck to look up is the second his heart melts and that gentle giant comes out (maybe for a second but everyone in the gang definitely saw it)

Your feisty side originally made him assume that you weren’t the touchy-feely type

So when you first cuddled with him he was probably as stiff as a board and awkward but with you coaxing him into more cuddles which he always accepted he has realized how much he loves them

Poor boy is definitely touch-starved so he would never ever deny your cuddles no matter what time of day it is or who is present (Though he may get flustered)

It would become one of his favorite things to do with you

Charles Smith-

Omg for Charles since he was a loner before the group and since the group has mostly taller people he would be astounded by your height at first

I feel like he would be on edge the whole time and make sure that he never ever harms you

That would probably be his number 1 fear in the relationship (Poor babe is scared he’ll crush you with his pinky or something)

It would take him a while to get used to being in a relationship with someone as small as you but thanks to your feisty side it makes him feel more comfortable eventually

It definitely eases him that you are not as fragile as you look (though let’s be honest he probably would adore how fragile you look since he would take on the protector role in the relationship)

He knows you are fully capable of protecting yourself though

This boy is touch-starved to but he has boundaries

He would set certain times or have cuddles only restricted to nights and away from prying eyes

He tries to compromise with you but really he believes that intimate moments should remain in private and once you do get to the cuddle session he will be absolute putty in your hands (Or you will be. It probably all depends on his mood)

Javier Escuella-

This gorgeous man would never say anything about your attitude or height… in English of course

In Spanish, he’ll be teasing you relentlessly and you’ll be dying to find out what he’s saying

Your feisty attitude with this just makes him happy (and a tad impressed if you get mad enough to try and hit him)

No one else is allowed to comment about your height beside him- You both make sure of that

He would flirt with you constantly and without shame

And that’s how you would eventually get together

When he finds out you are a cuddler?

He’ll embrace and relish in it

He’s a romantic through and through so he won’t care where, when, and who is present he will always encourage and initiate the cuddles too

Though because he is a romance it could lead somewhere else and that’s when whoever present needs to speak up is

If you are outside the camp with him expect him to expect you to remain by his side or on his arm

He just likes the fact he can proudly show you off but if it ain’t your thing he won’t force it

Is absolute favorite time with you is when the two of you are cuddling, you in his lap, and he has the guitar on your lap strumming away as he sings softly into your ear

John Marston-

He would be the one that wouldn’t care at first

It just doesn’t catch his attention and I feel like he would try to avoid you since your small stature and feisty nature reminds him of Abigail

Though once he does give in and you two become friends he’ll start to appreciate your stature and nature

He won’t comment on your height but he will purposely place things out of your reach to watch you struggle for it or so he could be “smooth” and help you (Yes imagine the cliché thing where the guy goes right behind the girl and they touch hands or something lmao- that would be John if he likes you)

Once he is confident that you aren’t like Abigail and you won’t get mad at him for teasing or initiating contact with you he’ll become more confident

I feel like he would be the first to try to cuddle and so when you let him he would just be awestruck

He doesn’t care too much about PDA around the gang but every once in a while he’ll pull you onto his lap and honestly if you let him or encourage him- he’ll probably marry you on the spot

John will appreciate you wanting to cuddle him but sometimes he’ll have his moods where he’ll need to be alone for a while

Don’t worry though because he will come back and feel bad for rejecting a cuddle and he’ll try to make it up to you

Sean Macguire-

Would be the one to immediately say something about your height the first time you show up in the gang

He has no shame in teasing you, flirting with you, constantly picking on you

When he genuinely likes someone he’ll seem like a bit of a jerk but the cuteness of it is undeniable

Everyone in the gang will know why he acts like that and eventually you will too

However, because of your feisty nature, the beginning of the friendship and relationship would be both of your personalities clashing

He would 100% enjoy this though where you may get annoyed beyond relief

He is the one who would pick you up and carry you around camp to either piss you off or show off your smaller stature

1000000% Would be the one to use your head as an armrest and be all smug bout it

I think in general that Sean with a very short s/o would be a hilarious relationship

He could have his romantic moments but there will be absolutely no witnesses to show this

Unless he goes to Arthur, Hosea, or Dutch for help on how to charm you (That is the only time those three will have not lost faith in Sean’s romantic life)

As for cuddling, this boy lives for it

However, his hormones also live for it so the cute cuddles can and probably will turn into something else rather fast

Again he has no shame so he would try and cuddle (and do more tbh) with the gang present

#softrozene writes #rdr2 x reader #red dead redemption 2 x reader #arthur morgan x reader #charles smith x reader #javier escuella x reader #john marston x reader #sean macguire x reader #female reader #fluff #rdr2 headcanons

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darklydeliciousdesires · 10 months

Text

Never Forgotten - An Arthur Shelby/Reader Short Story.

I am in the mood to create tonight, my loves! Here's another for you :)

Words - 778

Warnings - Fluff ahead! :D

“Love! I’m home!” he booms from the front door, your jaw tightening immediately. “Where are ya?”

“Kitchen.” Your tone is flat, the irritation you’ve been attempting to recover yourself from roaring into life once more, like a dying fire doused in petrol.

He’s brought it on himself, though, as he so often does.

You hear his heavy footsteps grow louder, the kitchen door shunted open with a squeak. “Gotta oil them hinges.” he mutters.

It’s just one more thing he says he’ll get around to. Unless he forgets completely. Just like certain other important things.

“Sweetheart, leave them dishes now. Turn around and look at your husband,” he instructs. To anyone else, it would sound like a baleful demand, but that’s just Arthur and his baritone, a voice like boulders crashing against one another. It’s the sexiest thing in the world when he’s in a state of arousal, but that’s the furthest thing from your mind right now.

Right now, you feel like walloping him with the meat tenderiser you’ve just washed in the hot, soapy water.

“Come on, petal. Look at me.”

You’re all set to fix him with the same glare you viewed him with across the breakfast table this morning, drying your hands as you turn away from the sink. When you take him in, though, you couldn’t be more surprised.

“Thought I’d forgotten, didn’t ya?” he beams, proffering the gigantic bunch of red roses and champagne bottle he carries forth. “Happy anniversary, my little dove.”

You don’t completely thaw as he presses a kiss to your lips, eyeing him with suspicion as you part. “You still could have forgotten, Arthur. Hence why I’m receiving these gifts now rather than this morning.”

He raises his eyebrows. “That right, is it?”

“It is,” you state, placing the flowers and bottle down on the table.

He jerks his head in the direction of the back door, taking your hand and kissing it. “This ain’t your whole present. Come on.”

Walking you out along the path that leads to your flower garden there at your beautiful country cottage, he lets out a piercing whistle, the sound of string instruments beginning to filter out. Rounding the corner, you gasp at the sight of two violinists and a cellist, stationed a little way from an elegantly prepared table, a smartly dressed waiter standing in wait.

“Greetings, Mrs Shelby. My name is Bryant, and I shall be your waiter tonight. Please, do take a seat and allow me to furnish you with a glass of champagne.”

You turn to Arthur, your eyes wide, mouth dropped open. “How?”

He reaches beneath your chin, closing your mouth. “You’ll catch flies like that.”

“But... how did you do all this without me seeing? I could have been out to hang the washing, anything!”

“But you weren’t, were ya?” he chuckles, pulling a chair away from the table and gesturing for you to sit. “They all got here while you were out with Jenny for afternoon tea. I made her keep you out for longer than usual.”

You had wondered, why your best friend had lingered over the tiny cakes and finger sandwiches, rather than devouring the tea with her usual gusto. She was in cahoots with your husband here. Damn them! Damn then, but also, bless them, for giving you the most beautiful surprise you certainly didn’t expect. In fact, you spent half the afternoon bending her ear over how pissed off you were with him.

No wonder she’d looked like she was trying to hide her amusement at times. You’d just taken it as her reacting to Arthur being his usual self.

“And how have they managed to bring dinner out here?”

He leans across the table, thanking the waiter when he fills the two empty flutes with champagne. “Food can travel, you know.”

You roll your eyes with a sigh. “Arthur.”

“What?” he booms, laughing. Oh, he finds this much too funny for your liking. “I dunno, they stick it all in a pot, whack it in the back of a car and there you go! I dunno the fucking logistics, I just paid ‘em!”

You chew the side of your cheek in mild fury, which juxtaposes with how much your heart is bursting with love for him. “You let me think you forgot deliberately, didn’t you?”

His moustache bristles, his grin beaming from beneath. “Suppose I did. Can’t deny I like it when you’re fiery, though. What can I say, love? I like a lamb in the kitchen and a tiger in the bedroom.”

When he finally gets you there a few hours later, you certainly do show him a wild time.

#arthur shelby fanfiction #arthur shelby x reader #arthur shelby x you #arthur shelby imagine #peaky blinders fanfiction #arthur shelby fanfic #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky fucking blinders

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call-sign-shark · 1 year

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Heaven in Your Eyes || Arthur Shelby x Reader!OC

Summary: Six months after being released from prison and cleared of murder charges, you and Arthur are finally getting married. All you have to do now is hope for the wedding day to be spared from some Shelby chaos. Featuring John Shelby x Reader.

Words: 6k

TW: tooth-rotting fluff, light angst, allusions to smut, one ruined wedding cake, Tommy not being a dick for once, otherwise it's a well-deserved soft chapter to start this new act. Let's not break your heart too soon.

Notes:

✞ This chapter is the beginning of Act II of Heaven in Your Eyes. The timeline is S4.

✞ Heaven is OP's original character but written with the use of « you » (Moodboard here).

PREVIOUS || Masterlist || NEXT PART

The beating in your heart was so erratic, so fierce, that its constant drumming echoed in your skull and ears as painfully as if someone was smashing your brain with a hammer. You clenched your jaws at the painful bite of the rope the police officer behind you had placed around your neck. The way the noose compressed your windpipe, already giving you a foretaste of what was awaiting you, made the act of breathing laborious. Sucking on a sharp breath, your throat whistled like a dying bird. Down below I go, you thought while nervously playing with the wedding ring Arthur gifted you weeks ago. He had barely made his proposal when policemen snatched you from him and threw you both in jail. With your back straight and your crystal eyes glaring at the officers who were present in this slaughter room, you managed to keep your dignity. They might hang you, but they would not see you cry. In fact, if you went down they would have to watch you, so that your piercing irises would haunt them until, one day, Death would come for them too.

I love you Arthur.

I love you Dad and Mom.

I love you little sister.

I’m so sorry I’ve failed you.

Could you ever forgive me?

Your teeth dug into the flesh of your inner cheek as seconds flew, each bringing you closer to your inevitable end.

“WAIT!!! PLEASE WAIT! ”

A far cry in the distance. Were you dreaming? Or were demons already afraid of you down in Hell?

Officer Kat Wilson’s heart missed a beat when the familiar voice boomed in the warehouse, as loud as a foghorn. The blonde policewoman turned around, eyes filled with hope as she saw the silhouette of Sergeant Moss bathed in the blinding outside light that had rushed into the place when he had opened the warehouse’s heavy doors, “Do not kill her! We’ve just received a new order from the Crown: Heaven Lavey and Polly Gray are proven innocent of the crimes they had been accused of.” He said, forehead glistening with sweat. He had probably run as fast as possible to deliver the news quickly. Kat Wilson felt all of her muscles relax at such an unhoped-for plot twist.

“Take the noose off her neck now.” She ordered, trying his best to sound strict despite Moss standing right here, running out of breath.

Innocent? Take the noose? Sentences were melting in an intelligible treacle because of the emotional roller coaster you were undergoing, hence you only caught a few words. When your mind finally made sense of what was happening, a long sigh came out of your quivering lips. Then, the policeman behind you set your throat free. You blinked several times and looked at Officer Wilson, who replied to your confused gaze with a faint, supportive smile illuminating her usually oh-so-severe traits. Then, she proceeded to free you from the handcuffs that were sinking into the frail flesh of your wrists. As she did, Kat brought her lips near your ear and whispered so only you could hear, “Arthur’s safe. The warrant includes the Shelby family too. I’m sorry for the mess, doll. ”

You swallowed the lump in your throat and glanced at the woman, trying not to let too many emotions show. Not that you wanted to play the tough girl, but you were so overwhelmed by your feelings that you were not even able to let out anything except confusion. It was all… Too much. “You knew they were going to release us.” You stated with a quiet but still slightly shaky voice as the revelation struck you.

“Let’s say I hoped they’d interrupt your death sentence in time.” Her soft yet hoarse voice replied, highlighted with a cunning little something.

Kat Wilson gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze before leading you outside the sinister warehouse, unwilling to provide you with further details. And somehow, you did not bother to ask. The only thing you wished for was to run away from this killing floor. Thus you walked bare feet on the gravel ground, the peaky sensation of the tiny stones against your flesh keeping you grounded to reality, andyou stopped in the middle of the yard. There, you threw your head back and closed your eyes, relishing the soft caress of the wind on your face. You breathed a sigh of relief, for the clouds above you had shifted from the sun, whose rays were warming up your frozen skin.

You were alive.

“Heaven!” A woman voice called you.

You reopened your eyes and looked around you, “Oh my God, Polly!” You suddenly exclaimed when you recognized her. Seeing Aunt Polly running to you and almost tackling you in a desperate hug was all it took for your emotions to finally flood you. Tears dawned at the corner of your eyes as you pulled her into a deeper embrace. Polly sobbed in your arms, her body quivering because of her cries.

“I saw them Heaven! I saw the spirits. Oh bloody hell, the spirits…”

“I know Pol,” You tried to comfort her the best you could, your grip tightening around the poor woman in the hope of helping her calm her panic attack. Still, you knew she was shaken to the core by her freshly canceled rendezvous with Mr. Death, “Everything’s fine,” You whispered, and let one of your hands lose itself in her short dark hair, “I hear them too.” You admitted. Polly gradually grew quieter in your arms, running out of tears. Nevertheless, you did not let her go. What you did, though, was to silently thank the policewoman with your gaze, your irises sparkling with genuine gratitude. No matter her role in all this mess, you knew Kat Wilson contributed to setting you free.

You were alive.

Alive, for sure, and indescribably furious.

1925 - Six Months Later

You had been absentmindedly looking at your reflection in the mirror for long minutes when someone knocked at the door and snatched you from your contemplative state. A growl escaped from your lips for you had let everyone know you did not want to be bothered— truth be told, you needed a bit of time alone with you to soothe your anxiety. However, the uninvited guest came in before you allowed him to do so.

“True gentlemen wait to be invited before entering a room, you know? Especially when a lady is in it. ” You said with a faint smirk on your plump and glossy lips as you recognized the guest by the sole fragrances of his cologne.

“A part of me hoped to see you undressed, that’s why I didn’t, little Angel.” The masculine voice answered, its tone filled with tease. You snorted at such a stupid answer, kinda expecting it, and rolled your eyes in amusement.

“Idiot.” You simply retorted, glancing at him through the mirror you were still facing.

“Idiot? That’s it? I’m used to better roast from ya, eh!” John exclaimed, surprised by your lack of wit. He wanted to tease you again you but your sudden silence kept him from doing so. Something was off. Worried, the young Shelby brother frowned a little bit and walked to you, not minding your desire of being alone. You jumped slightly at the sensation of his two large and warm hands squeezing your upper arms, “Oi, Angel.” He gently called, the tenderness in his voice wrapping you in a comforting haze, “Tell me what’s wrong please…”

For sure John Shelby had a soft spot for you since the day Arthur introduced you to the family. No one had ever doubted it. Without the slightest explanation nor apparent reasons, you both immediately grew fond of each other from the moment your eyes met. In truth, your relationship with the Shelby family had been quite tricky for months following the first meeting. Most of them didn’t want you to be a part of the clan, partly due to the witch rumors around you and Arthur’s obsessive love. It was only now, a solid year and one murder later, that everything had started to flow more smoothly with them. Even Esme, who had been terrified of you and would usually avoid you at all costs, had learned to live with your presence in the family. According to Polly, you had deserved your place among them more than any other women the boys brought home. The only threat to this harmony had been and still was Thomas Shelby himself. The mutual resentment you shared for each other was rooted in deep and far too complicated reasons, the most recent one was him selling you to the police for murder charges. However, you came to terms with the idea of maintaining a mutual hatred as long as he did not step between Arthur and you ever again.

So, apart from Tommy and Esme, you were now getting along with everyone. But with John… With John, it was unlike anything you had ever experienced, apart from Arthur. Whenever your man wasn’t there, John would do everything that was in his power to keep you company and bring a smile to your face. Not only he loved to visit you and spent his free time with you, but he truly cared for your well-being. Sometimes he would make a surprise visit to your house. In fact, he would stand there on your porch with the most adorable smile you had ever seen etched on his lips, a basket filled with food in one hand and a bottle of red wine in the other. When Arthur and you decided to leave Birmingham, your heart ached at the thought of moving away from John. Following your departure, rumors said John’s eternal smile had not be seen for weeks. However, once you had well adjusted to your new routine, even distance could not shake your unique bond: John never ceased to visit you when he could.

“What’s the matter, little angel?” He inquired, genuinely concerned by your silence and the melancholic gleam in your aquamarine eyes.

“I’m scared John. I’m fucking scared.” You finally admitted, closing your eyelids a few seconds to take a slow inhale. The weight in your chest had vanished from the moment words left your mouth. At such a surprising answer, the young gangster’s grip tightened on your arms and he gently forced you to turn around to face him. Still, you avoided his gaze, fearing judgment.

“It’s your wedding day, Heaven. What are you scared of?” He carefully asked, taking care not to make you think he was mocking or judging you.

“I’m scared because now I’ve got something to lose,” You fell silent for a tiny while, fighting again the desire to remain silent, but you knew you could open up to him, “I have a magnificent house in the forest cradled by the sweet chant of a peaceful stream. I have the loveliest man I could have dreamt of by my side, who loves me to the moon and back. God, I even got a dog!” Another brief pause you took to avoid crying, “And one day there will be one or two kids…” John listened to you carefully, still wondering what the problem was, “If I'm being honest, I’ve never thought I would be allowed to be this happy. At one point in my life, I got used to the idea of dying alone, hunted down by bad memories, and drown by guilt. But, look at me now. Look how far I’ve come… That’s why I’m scared of losing it all. Fuck, John — I’ll die without him.”

To your greatest surprise, the young gangster replied to your lament with soft chuckles, “Heaven. I don’t know what it is between Arthur and you, but I’ve never seen a love fiercer than the one you share. Bloody Hell, you’re so addicted to each other it’s even a bit scary sometimes, not gonna lie eh,” His fingers trapped your chin in one soft movement and, with indescribable tenderness, he raised your head so that he could observe each trait of your angelic face, “Having something to lose makes you cherish what you have even more. Plus it doesn’t mean you’re gonna lose it. “ The corner of his charming lips curled in a sweet smile, “Moreover, there’s more chance for Tommy to like you than for Arthur to leave your side. He’s not gonna let you go… To my greatest sadness.” John winked at you and, despite everything, his last flirty comment managed to make you laugh. Sometimes, you didn’t know how he always succeeded in cheering you up but still he did, “Listen, I knew you’d be a bit nervous for your wedding day, so I got you a little surprise.”

“A surprise?” You asked, curious, wiping away the tiny tears that had formed in the corner of your eyes while being careful not to ruin the stunning siren-eyes makeup Ada did. It would be a shame to have more mascara on your cheek than on your eyelashes the day of your wedding. John walked to the door and put his large hand on the knob, looking at you to maintain a small suspense “I know he’s not supposed to see you before the ceremony but he would not stop crying without you so…” He was about to open the door when he stopped mid-action, “Oh and I’m not talking about Arthur by the way. Even though I’m pretty sure he’s also doing that.”

“Fuck off, John boy.” You poked your tongue out, feeling cheerful and far less anxious thanks to him. He grinned in reply and finally opened the door.

“Oh! This is... So cuuuuute!” You almost squealed, for you were welcomed by the sight of Kaiser, the huge Cane Corso Arthur’s had brought home one night, sitting in front of the door with his mouth open in a big smile and with his drooling tongue hanging, “Come here big boy!” You called him, kneeling on the floor without minding your wedding dress now that your fur baby was here. Kaiser did not need to be asked twice: he walked to you and put his huge head between your frail hands to get his scratches, looking at you with so much love in his hazel eyes you could not resist smooching his wet snout “I can’t believe you’ve put a bow tie to my dog!” You laughed, “Look at this distinguished gentleman... He’s gonna steal all the women!” The massive beast barked loudly as to agree with you. You delicately wrapped your arms around his muscular frame to hug him, the sensation of his fur against your face erasing the last bits of anxiety left in you “Oh you’re the most handsome man of the whole family, baby Kaiser... Yes, you are. ”

His tail wagged. Of course, he was!

“Couldn’t participate in the wedding if he wasn’t all fancy, eh. I've also put a fake mustache on his snout but he ate it so I gave up on the idea,” He shrugged, “I thought it would make you laugh and help you relax.”

“Thank you, John! Thank you so much, you’re lovely I swear.” You said, looking at him with your gaze filled with genuine affection all the while cuddling with Kaiser, who seemed to be in paradise judging by his blissfully happy face.

“So — are you ready?” John finally asked.

“Yes, I am.” You replied, then stood up and took a quick look at your reflection in the mirror to fix your long white mane, which had been styled in wavy and adorned with a few diamonds from there and then, giving your hair an otherworldly shine. As you focused on your hairstyle, John rearranged your dress. At one point, he stopped what he was doing to look at you with a dreamy expression.

“You’re stunning, little angel. Fuckin’ bewitching.” He whispered before shaking his head, “Let’s find your man now, eh. Alright?” You nodded, the butterflies in your stomach flying at the sole mention of Arthur.

“I’m ready but before we go can I ask you a favor, John?”

“Anything.”

“You know, I’d have loved my family to be here. Mom would have been prolly crying during the whole wedding in Dad’s arms while my little sister would have thrown white petals at everyone’s face for fun…” You let out a charming but oh-so-sad chuckle “But no matter how fiercely I’ve prayed for it I know they won’t be there. So I’ve got two choices left: either I walk alone to my husband or I ask someone to accompany me.” You had barely finished your sentence when the celeste blue of your eyes dived into the sky blue of his, “I’d like you to escort me down the aisle, John.”

He remained silent, stricken by surprise at such a touching demand. He had not been expecting it. Words were at loss, however, they were not necessary for you to understand his answer: as the sun rays crossed through the windows and enlightened John’s face, you could see the precious shine of one sole crystal tear running down his cheek.

The powerful sound of the organ resonated in the whole church, the vibrations of its melody resounding in Arthur’s chest and making him tremble from within. He was standing in front of the altar with his manly hands interlocked in front of him. For the occasion, he had bought the most elegant and expensive tailored three-piece suit he had ever owned: he was dressed in all black, except for the white shirt he was wearing under. Moreover, Tommy had put some traditional white flowers in the pocket of his vest, while Polly had slipped an emerald pillar pendant around his neck and hid it under his shirt before he entered the church— a marriage blessing, from what he had understood from Polly’s emotional speech. The woman was so proud of her older nephew she could not help but already weep with joy. Arthur nervously glanced at his brother who was standing by his side, slightly in front of him at his best man’s place. Then, his steel-blue eyes shifted from Tommy and searched for his Aunt, who sat a bit further in the audience beside Ada and Finn. To be honest, Arthur’s anxiety kicked in. The more the second passed, the more the unpleasant impression his heart was about to burst from his chest was overwhelming. Nervously spinning one of his silver rings, he tried to control his nerves the best he could but it was harder than he thought: a part of him, admittedly irrational, was terrified by the possibility of you not showing up.

What if you’ve changed your mind? What if you’ve come to the conclusion you did not want him? What if your wedding did not work out, just like his first one? Maybe the problem hadn’t been Linda but him?

As was always the case when he was panicking, his self-whipping thoughts banged together in his skull like a hive of furious buzzing hornets. Nevertheless, Arthur knew, deep down, that you were soul mates and that there was no actual reason for you to flee. What really helped him to calm down though was taking a deep inhale and focusing on the hundred of candles’ flames that were illuminating the room with tiny dancing flames. A comforting wave of warmth almost immediately wrapped his heart as he did, for this church was the place in which you met for the very first time. He still clearly remembers the fire that had lit in his dying soul at the way your fingers grazed him when you had cleaned the blood off his face with a torn piece of your own dress. Not only had you purified his soiled skin, but then you had allowed him to put his head on your thighs and proceeded to pet his hair all the while lulling his demons to sleep with that enchanting voice of yours. From that night, Arthur made a promise to Almighty God, who had been kind enough to answer his prayers and sent him his most precious Angel. And that promise was that he would marry you in this same place to show God how well he would treat you and how happy you would be with him.

The organ roared louder in the church all of a sudden, causing him to refocus.

You were coming.

The gangster straightened his back, quickly slicked his hair back one last time to look perfect for you, and then stared at the church’s heavy wooden doors with both anxiety and anticipation in his eyes. His blood boiled with impatience, for you had been separated for too long because of the traditional “don’t see the bride before the ceremony” the Shelby women — and John — had insisted to establish. That being said, it had been torture for Arthur, who was aching so much from your absence that he felt almost as bad as when he went through rehab. Hands shaking, cold sweat running down his back, breath hitching, Arthur could definitely not live without you by his side. — you were the most exquisite drug ever created, against which even opium could not even compete.

The doors opened and panic rushed even more brutally into his being. At first, he thought he was about to die from a heart attack, but then, all these negative feelings vanished in dust when his piercing blue irises met your tantalizing silhouette. When you erupted from the almost supernatural light that was surrounding you, Arthur widened his eyes and stopped breathing. Here you were, your seductive body adorned with a graceful Greek goddess-inspired dress whose cut let the pale flesh of your back for the world to see while also forming a graceful and long wedding cape that was cascading down your shoulders. The whiteness of your outfit, equaling the wonderful snow-like color of your hair, was enhanced with gold jewels: armbands and a choker. One look at you was all it took for Arthur to feel the stinging of uncontrollable tears dawning in his eyes, for a tsunami of emotions had crashed in his soul at such a holy sight. As you walked to the altar at John’s arm, the wind blew in the church and made your cape dance behind you. For a few seconds, Arthur was convinced he saw wings in your back. Mighty feathery wings.

Divine. It was the only word that came into his mind when he watched you breaking the distance between you. And the more you approached, the more he was stunned by your ethereal beauty. So stunned he had to keep himself from falling on his knees at your feet, deeming himself unworthy of standing in front of such a pure seraph. Even Tommy, whose resentment for you was a secret to none, found himself in awe at your pulchritude. He, along with the groom, had to blink several times to make sure they were not dreaming.

Your glossy lips stretched in an enamored smile overflowing with emotions when you looked at your future husband: he was so charming in his suit that you fell in love with him for a second time. Your grip tightened around John’s arm for your heartbeat quickened until you finally rejoined Arthur. As soon as you reached him, the tall gangster took you by the hands — yours: small, delicate, and freezing. His: large, calloused, and burning. You dived into each other’s eyes, and the rest of the world disappeared.

“You’re so handsome.” You whispered, causing an adorable pink shade to blossom on your soon-to-be husband’s cheeks.

“C-Come on. Did ye see yer own reflection? Ye took me fookin breath away, Angel.” His hoarse replied.

“Arthur, we’re in a church.” You discreetly snorted.

“Oh Fook. I mean shi— Whatever.” He slightly stuttered. At this moment, it did not matter that he was a grown man in his mid-thirties: he felt like a flustered teenager in front of his first crush all over again. And to be true, so you were — to the point you both did not hear much of what the priest was saying, for you were far too hypnotized by each other’s presence as well as fighting hard against the urge of devouring each other’s lips. The only moment you both came back to your senses was when you had to pronounce your vows.

Then came the final moment.

Arthur Shelby, do you take Heaven Lavey to be your wife? Do you promise to be faithful to her in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, to love her and to honor her all the days of your life?

I do. He answered with haste. You trapped your lower lip between your teeth, gathering all your strength to hold your emotions, but the crystal tears in your aquamarine eyes betrayed you.

Arthur Shelby, receive this ring as a sign of my love and fidelity. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.

The caress of your fingers along with the cold sensation of the golden ring on his skin sent shivers down his spine. Observing you as you sealed your love by slipping the ring around his finger, Arthur’s smile grew a bit larger and made his teary eyes squint, digging adorable crowfeet at their corners.

You can kiss the bride.

The priest’s last words brought him back to life — that’s what he had been waiting for what seemed to be an eternity. Unable to wait any longer, the gangster brought one hand to your cheek and broke the excruciating distance between your lips until they crashed together under a thunder of applause. The feathery caress of his moustache on your skin mixed with the sensation of his eager mouth warmed you all over. Arthur deepened the kiss by parting his lips slightly so that his tongue could find its way to yours and give it a gentle stroke. But while hungry, the press of his mouth remained chaste. Carried away by his softness, you felt your body flickering in his arms, as fragile as the church’s candle flames.

You were his, he told it to himself. And he was yours. All yours until death tears you apart.

No, fuck that Reaper cunt he thought, even Death would not keep him apart from you.

The hundreds of candles and lanterns that were scattered through all Arrow House’s garden enlightened the night with their warm hue. Shortly before the wedding, the Shelby family suggested hosting the party in Tommy’s Mansion rather than in your place for practical matters. By celebrating your marriage in Arrow House, all the family and, by extension, friends, could reunite together without having to drive for miles. Moreover, the mansion was far bigger than your and Arthur’s house, which made the place far more convenient for partying. For the event, all of Arrow House and its gargantuan garden had been decorated with lights, candles of every kind, white drapes, and flower wreaths that gave the place a supernatural atmosphere. The cheerful cacophony of chatter and music hovered above the garden as the guests were indulging themselves with food, alcohol, and innocent fun. Even Officer Kat Wilson, who had been invited following her implication in your release from prison, spent the whole night partying with the Shelby family. Surprisingly enough, no one dared to disrupt the celebration with illegal activities. Just a few bets here and there. The only incident to declare had been the moment when Arthur, faithful to himself, almost smashed someone’s head in the wedding cake —he got angry when one of the guests looked at your cleavage—. However, if Arthur failed with ruining the cake it had not been Kaiser’s case, who ate half of it by himself.

“Where are Arthur and Heaven? Can’t believe the bride and the groom had disappeared!” Polly asked Tommy and Ada, visibly unhappy. The latter was a bit tipsy judging by the red shade of her cheeks and the glass of champagne in her perfectly manicured hand.

“Last time I’ve seen them they were dancing with flower crowns on their heads,” She hiccoughed, “I nearly died from laughing. Arthur. With a flower crown. It was so sweet and ridiculous!”

“That ain’t fun, Ada. I really need to find those stupid lovebirds. I swear I’m going bonkers: first Arthur’s tantrum, then Kaiser ruining the wedding cake, and now the newlyweds are late for the picture!” She complained. Overall, it had been Aunt Polly who made sure everything ran smoothly, hence her discontentment.

Tommy rolled his eyes at his sister’s inebriation, then he squeezed her shoulder with his large hand, “I think your question will find its answer really soon, Pol.” He stated with his quiet and deep voice as his turquoise eyes caught sight of your silhouette walking toward them, holding Arthur by the hand. You were both exchanging glances and light enamored laughters.

As surprising as it sounded, Thomas Shelby and you had managed to put your mutual hatred aside for the sake of the wedding. Of course, you were carefully avoiding each other the best you could, but when you were together in inevitable family moments, your exchanges remained polite.

Polly turned to you with her eyebrows furrowed and pressed her fists on her hips with an angry- mother expression when you and Arthur joined the small group.

“Ah! There you are! The photographer has been fuming for half an hour! Where have you been?” She scolded.

“We really need a map. This place is a fookin’ maze eh. We got lost.” Arthur tried to justify himself, his fingers firmly intertwined with yours, “I mean I wanted to show her the mansion but hey, I quite forgot which way to go and —“

“Arthur?” Polly cut him.

“Eh?”

“Your fly.” She simply stated. Holding much power, those two tiny words made Arthur almost jump. He let go of your hand in one vivid movement.

“OH FOOKIN HELL!” His gravel voice exclaimed when he looked down at his trousers. He quickly zipped the fly up under Ada’s hysterical laugh and Tommy’s mocking smirk. Admittedly, you could not help but giggle too for his reaction had been quite priceless. Oh Arthur, you thought. The only one who was not laughing was Polly, who looked at him with such a desperate face that you were sure she was about to facepalm herself. Or slap his face, it depended on her mood.

“Men and their cock, I swear. Look at you, idiot,” She said affectionately, “Your hair is all messed up! You’re going to look awful in your wedding pic!” She growled, grabbing her oldest nephew to rearrange both his hair and his tie.

“Don’t be mean Pol, he just needed to release the pressure.” You said, watching the scene with a faint smile on your juicy and glossy lips still swollen from Arthur’s lustful kisses, “The whole speech thing worried him.”

“Mmmpff— true.” He grunted, embarrassed.

“Yeah of course.” The beautiful Ada started before coming to you and smoothing the folds of your goddess dress with a teasing grin “What a long and difficult way to say you just wanted to give him a blowjob.” She teased.

“Piss off Ada.” You gently retorted, rolling your eyes in a fake outraged pout, “let’s take that picture before Polly strangle us all.”

“OI. Everyone fucking gather together for the picture! Bring the damn dog too!” Tommy yelled to the crowd, “John! Made them pose in front of the mansion!” Orders flew and Peaky Blinders were soon taking the crowd in charge to help the photographer take the most perfect picture he could take. When everyone was ready, he pushed the button of his camera and, in a blinding flash, captured the most beautiful moment of your whole life in a picture you would cherish like the apple of your eye.

“We… We really should … Like… At least try to get in bed.” You giggled, your cheeks still adorned with a pink blush. Admittedly, talking had become quite a challenge after the second bottle of wine.

“Not gonna lie, love, I can’t fookin’ get up for the life of me.” Arthur pulled you closer against his bare chest and slipped one hand into your messy long hair, not willing to move. The tenderness of his caresses made your whole body relax and you melted in the warmth of his freckled skin. To hell with the bed, you thought, the floor would do the trick.

When the party had come to an end, Arthur had carried you bridal-style to one of the mansion’s magnificent bedrooms, despite being completely drunk. The whole walk had been tedious with poor Arthur staggering in the stairway, but you could not have cared less — you were as wasted as he was and could not walk anymore. Maybe the alcohol contest with Kat and Uncle Charlie had not been such a great idea after all… Once you reached the bedroom, Arthur and you collapsed on the large fur rug that was on the wooden floor and clumsily took off each other’s clothes between heated kisses and steamy moans. He had impatiently waited for the wedding night, calling you “Mrs. Shelby” and “me lovely wife” all the way. That being said, a few intoxicated chuckles had embellished the symphony of your love when alcohol made one of you missed the other’s lips. No one could tell how many hours went by nor how many times you made love — Not even you. You were only coming back to your senses now that you were both snuggling naked on the floor, your legs entangled and your mind still clouded with your latest orgasm.

“I don’t want this wonderful day to end,” Arthur said, his gruff voice finally breaking the comfortable and peaceful silence that had settled in the room. A slow and long exhale escaped from your nostrils at his words before you laid lazy kisses on his chest. Your lips, still hungry for him despite your drowsiness, trailed up until they reached the golden cross pendant he was always wearing. A shiver ran down his spine when you took it between your full lips and looked up to his eyes through your Bambi lashes, “Fook — you make me so… Happy.”

“And I’ll do my best to keep you happy every day of your life.” You replied after a little while, setting the pendant free from your tantalizing mouth. “That was a pretty successful day.”

“It was, eh.” Arthur softly smiled at your words, his piercing blue eyes enjoying your mesmerizing beauty and his long fingers gently massaging your scalp, “We got a letter and a bouquet from Mrs. Solomons, y’know. She wanted to come but her husband’s back was hurting too much. ”

“Oh yes? Rosie is a sweetheart.”

“And her husband’s a cunt.” He growled, “Bloody bastard.”

“I know right? But she’s great. She’s been teaching me so many interesting things about feminism! Really made me want to attend her next meeting!”

“Women… You’re all going to overpower us one day.” Arthur said, his voice tinted with amusement. His free hand quickly grabbed the bottle of whisky that was next to him and took a mouthful of alcohol.

“It would not be a bad thing,” You pressed a kiss against his chin and he hummed in response, delighted by the way you showered him with tenderness. Arthur would have been purring under your touch if he had been able to do so. It just felt good — so good the whole world could have gone down in flames he wouldn’t mind as long as you kept pampering him like you were doing. You made him feel loved. You made him feel at peace… And God knows how much he needed that. “Especially for Michael. Have you seen his girlfriend Nora? She looked exhausted.”

“She just gave birth to her second child. Of course, she’s exhausted, love.” He said. His hand, which had been playing with your hair until then, slowly ran down your naked back.

“Hm.” That was all you replied, for you felt Michael’s girl was more than just physically exhausted. Something was definitely off in their relationship, but you did not want to mingle. “Their daughter is lovely, though.”

“She is.”

Another silence fell in the bedroom, only embellished by the relaxing cracking of the woods burning in the hearth. Both of you had closed your eyes, slowly drifting away into Morpheus’ kingdom.

“Angel?” He called you with a sleepy voice.

“Yes, Arthur?” You answered, dozing off.

“ I’d love to have kids with ye, eh. Little white-haired and blue-eyed us running barefoot in the forest… Little embodiments of our love brightening our life.” His voice was merely a whisper now for he was slowly falling asleep, “I’ve always wanted to be a dad… but thought I was too messed up for that.”

“You aren’t.” You smiled and let your fingers lazily graze his skin, your nails crossing through his chest hairs and ending their race on his heart, right where his tattoo was “I want it too Arthur. I want it too.”

Sleep made the last word of your sentence die on your lips. Now, the hullabaloo of the party was no more. All the remaining noises were the harmonious murmurs of your slow breathings and the lullaby sung by the fire, which had never been so comforting.

✞ Any comment, review, reblog, or constructive criticism is welcome. Your reactions really motivate me and keep me alive, so please don't be shy. English is not my first language.

✞ Tag list: @adaydreamaway08 @theshelbyclan @jomarch-wannabe @esposadomd @zablife @woofgocows @anathemasworld @anastasia000 @kate654 @kxnnxy @babayaga67 @meowtastick @shelbyssins @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @bluevenus19 @raincoffeeandfandoms

✞ Nora Gray belongs to @amidst-wonderland || Rose Solomons belongs to @raincoffeeandfandoms || Kat Wilson belongs to my sweet partner @callme-fox

✞ Each chapter of this series can be read as stand-alone even though it's far more enjoyable if you have read at least the previous chapter.

363 notes · View notes

maplemind · 10 months

Text

Ok I’m having thoughts about the Uther / Arthur dynamic…

I think that Arthur was entirely raised by wet nurses / nannies / etc because Uther’s negative feelings were too strong.

I think for most of Arthur’s youth, Uther resented, regretted, and somehow blamed Arthur for the loss of Ygraine. And I think Uther essentially avoided his own son as much as he could get away with.

I think he got so desperate for an heir (and of course the problem couldn’t be with him, it had to be Ygraine’s reproductive system that was faulty), that he didn’t do his research, or didn’t listen to warnings, or somehow believed himself above the potential consequences.

I bet he knew that a life would be taken, but he assumed it would be some peasant of Camelot, maybe a knight, maybe one of his lords, but thought he and his family would be immune and would obviously be spared. Because, y’know, he’s the king of Camelot.

And I think he blamed Arthur for some messed up reason (I mean, ok, grief does weird things to people).

And I think every time he realised Arthur isn’t a carbon copy of him, isn’t the perfect heir (impossibly strong, talented, and stoic) he resents him and regrets that he traded the love of his life for “this disappointment”. Surely magic should have given him the absolute perfect heir? And person so amazing they’re beyond all human comprehension, right? Like Hercules, or Achilles.

Also, the way Uther loses his godamn mind when Morgana is dying in S3, the way he waxes lyrical about how important she is to him, how he can’t live without her… yet Arthur has been dying twice by this point and Uther gets no where near as upset. In fact, he sits with his dying son once, admits that his death is inevitable, then goes about his day without a second glance…

And because of the way his father couldn’t even spare him a glance, let alone a hug, or comfort, or an “I love you, I’m proud of you”, I don’t think Arthur knows what affection really is. I don’t think he truly understands how love feels.

I think that’s why he was so off-balance when he went to save Ealdor with Merlin and saw the way he and his mother interacted. It threw everything he’d ever known into doubt.

Maybe he thought that kind of love, affection, and physical comfort is for poor people, because that’s what his experience told him.

And maybe it made Arthur think - “what if my mother had survived? What if my father’s life had been taken instead?”

And what if Ygraine had lived and Uther had died? I mean, the spell gave Uther an heir to take over when he died, and he got what he wanted, right? So if Uther dies right away… well, you’ve got your heir you wanted, he’ll take your place like he’s supposed to!

Arthur has lived his whole life feeling like he wasn’t wanted - that’s what all the evidence told him. Then he finds out he’s “the reason” his mother is dead and his father is a heartless, emotionless, bitter man?

Holy shinsplints Arthur. No wonder he couldn’t accept the affection Merlin and Guinevere clearly had for him. Maybe that’s why he kept freaking out and throwing it back in their faces, getting angry, pushing them away.

He was scared because he had absolutely no idea how to react to it - no blueprint, no examples, no evidence that his own upbringing and his father’s mentality isn’t normal.

But my god did he try and give out all the love he had stored in his heart, all the love that was wasted on his father and was never reciprocated. My god did he try.

Bless you, Arthur. My heart aches so damn hard for you.

#bbc merlin #merlin bbc #Merthur #bbc Merthur #merthur bbc #Merlin #merlin emrys #arthur pendragon #uther pendragon

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stripetkattelalala54-gf · 6 months

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Rainbow Madness

Summary: While riding a roller coaster, Mario gets a little bit too much reminded of a certain Rainbow Road incident. Takes place sometime after the movie.

TW: Panic attack

Characters: Mario, Luigi, Mia, Pio, Tony, Arthur, Sofia (Mario and Luigi's little niece)

“I wanna go on that one!”, Sofia exclaimed excitedly, bouncing on her feet as she pointed to a massive roller coaster that extended high into the sky towering over all the other roller coasters that were nearby. It was her 10th birthday so the whole family had agreed to do something a little bit more special than usual to celebrate it.

Since they all knew how much she loved the Mushroom Kingdom ever since Mario and Luigi took her and the rest of the family there to show them around and how much she loved amusement parks, they agreed that combining these two things together would make a good birthday present for her.

So, Mario had asked Peach if amusement parks existed in the Mushroom Kingdom. Peach had looked at him confused at first but after explaining the concept, her face lit up and she informed him that the Mushroom Kingdom indeed had something like an amusement park albeit under a different name.

Now it was him, Luigi, Uncle Arthur, Uncle Tony, mom, dad, and Sofia walking through the FunMush park. They played various games, went on different rides, and tried food which they had never heard of before. It was nice and everyone was having fun. Aunt Marie hadn’t been able to come with them as she had fallen sick. Sofia was sad at first that her mother couldn’t come with them, but that sadness vanished as soon as they set foot in the FunMush park.

Sofia was still bouncing on her feet as she looked at them excitingly.

“Sure, thing sweety we can go on that one”, Uncle Arthur said, laughing. “Who’s coming with us?”

“As if you even have to ask”, Uncle Tony responded with a smirk. “Mario, Luigi you coming too?”

“Of course”, Luigi said without hesitation. Just like Marilyn, Mario could see the excitement radiating off his brother. Despite of everything that Luigi was afraid of, his brother loved roller coasters. Mario normally enjoyed them too but today he couldn’t help but feel uneasy whenever they went on one. Up to that point, all the roller coasters had been relatively small. Still, memories of the Rainbow Road fiasco resurfaced whenever he found himself on one of those rides, but it was manageable.

Now looking at this big roller coaster that was a few feet away from them, made the knot in his stomach that had been there ever since the first ride he went on today, grow even more. It absolutely didn’t help that the roller coaster was very bright and colourful itself.

Mario swallowed thickly but immediately recovered when he saw his whole family staring at him as they still waited for an answer from him. He forced himself to smile. “Yeah, sure I’m coming too.”

It was probably going to be fine anyway. It was only a roller coaster. He would survive a ride on this even if it made him uncomfortable. He never told his family about the Rainbow Roadpart of his adventure not even Luigi. It was a part of his journey that he’d rather forget, the feeling of terror when the explosion threw him off the road and the feeling of hopelessness and despair when he and DK were swallowed by that eel was not something he was eager to voice out loud.

Besides it was probably nothing in comparison to what his brother had to endure during those three days. His family didn’t need to worry about him too when Luigi was already clearly struggling because of everything that happened. It was fine. He could deal with it himself. He pointedly ignored the voice that told him that he hadn’t slept a full night since he came back because he had nightmares about either the Rainbow Road incident, Luigi dying or Bowser beating him up or some combinations of those scenarios that way too often involved that Luigi somehow got hurt or died because he was unable to protect him. Or that he once almost had a panic attack when there had been a sudden loud noise. Or that one time when Luigi came back home a bit later than he’d said he would. Or-

“Mia, Pio are you coming as well?” Uncle Arthur asked, pulling Mario out of his racing thoughts. “I think we rather sit this one out”, his mom said with a smile. “But you go and have fun. We’ll be waiting just right next by the exit of the ride.”

“Well then let’s go!”, Uncle Arthur cheered. Sofia let out a happy squeak before she was running off on her own. Uncle Arthur laughed following her right behind. “C’mon”, Uncle Tony waved, signalling for Mario and Luigi to follow too.

They made their way through the crowd and before Mario knew it, they were right in front of the roller coaster. Uncle Arthur and Sofia were already standing in line waving them over as soon as they saw them.

Only now that they were right in front of the roller coaster, made Mario realize just how big it was; It was towering over them, its twists and turns extending high into the sky and the colours were dizzyingly bright. It made his heart beat faster but not in a good way.

Mario’s heart felt like it would stop when he got a look of the name of the roller coaster. “Rainbow Madness” was written in the same bright colours as the roller coaster was itself. This had to be a joke. Because of course the name would have a remarkable resemblance to the thing he absolutely didn’t want to think about. Just perfect. It did not help with his growing uneasiness at all.

The nearer it was their turn for the ride, the worse it got. He clapped his fingers together in a nervous manner and he could feel a cold sweat forming on his brows.

His uneasiness must’ve been more visible than he thought because Luigi suddenly nudged him gently into his side. “You okay?”, he asked in a concerned tone but silent enough so that others wouldn’t hear him. “I’m fine”, he waved his brother off. Luigi didn’t seem to be convinced. “Are you sure? You’re really tense”, he pressed again. “Yeah, of course”, Mario smiled this time in the hopes that it was enough to convince his brother that he was fine.

Luigi looked like he wanted to say something more but before he could do it, the line cleared up and it was their turn.

Mario climbed into the seat next to Luigi while Sofia and Uncle Arthur took a seat together behind them and Uncle Tony a seat behind those two. Then the safety harness clicked into place. His heart started to race even more now that he knew that there was no going back. It was okay. It was only a roller coaster nothing bad would happen while riding it, he told himself.

The roller coaster suddenly gave a jolt, and before Mario knew it, the ride began its way up the steep descent. His breathing quickened even though he tried to remain calm. It was okay, he told himself over and over again. It was only barely working. He gripped the safety harness tighter as the ride went up higher and higher. This had been a bad idea. He should’ve just stayed down and made up some excuse why he wasn’t coming on the ride. Just as they were about to reach the peak of the ride, a loud bang echoed through the park and Mario’s heart dropped and his breath got caught in his throat.

And then he was falling. His ears were ringing, he couldn’t hear anything. The explosion had been deafening. He was falling. He was going to die. He was going to die without being able to safe his brother. Luigi was going to die because of him. Their family would never know what happened to them. They would never know it was his fault.

He was falling and he was going to die and there was nothing that he could do about it and why was it so hard to breathe and oh god he was still falling, was this never going to end-

“Mario!”

Mario gasped for air as his surroundings came vaguely back into focus. He was on a roller coaster that was moving at a breakneck speed was the first thing he realized. The second thing, he realized was that he wasn’t breathing right. He was choking and he could barely get enough air in.

It’s gonna be okay, just hang on!”, a voice shouted next to him, but Mario could barely hear it over his own heartbeat. The roller coaster took its twists and turns, and Mario could do nothing more than to just hold on.

He squeezed his eyes shut, clutching the safety bar of the roller coaster as if it was a lifeline. His breathing was still too fast, making it hard to get enough air into his lungs. Dizziness was washing over him, and he felt like he would pass out at any moment.

Suddenly the roller coaster came to a screeching halt, and everything stopped. Somebody took him by the arm, nudging him to stand up but his legs felt like jelly. They only supported him for a few steps, and he would have collapsed on the ground if it hadn’t been for the person’s firm grip on him.

He was being led away a few steps before he was being gently lowered down to the floor. Everything was spinning, his chest felt like it was too tight making it impossible to get enough air in. His hands gripped at his chest, pulling at his shirt. He needed it off, he needed room to breathe, he needed-

A hand touched his shoulder shortly, but it was enough to make him flinch.

“Hey”, the voice suddenly spoke again. “Hey breathe with me. Just follow my lead.”

“In. Hold it. Out.”

Mario tried desperately to do as he was told, but the air just wouldn’t fill his lungs. He coughed and choked.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, try again.”

“In.” Mario took a shaky breath in. “Hold it.” He held it for a few seconds. “Out.” Mario breathed out again.

“Good, very good. Try again.”

Mario did. He did it again and again until he was finally able to breathe normally.

That was when his surroundings finally came back into focus. Luigi was kneeling only a few inches in front of him, concern and fear clearly written over his face.

A little bit more behind standing, were Uncle Tony, Uncle Arthur, his parents and Sofia. They had the same concerned expression while Sofia looked scared, clutching Uncle Arthur’s hand. Oh. Oh no.

“You back with us bro?”, Luigi asked in a soft tone.

Giving a shaky nod was all that Mario was capable of. His throat felt like it was on fire making it impossible to form any words. He felt completely exhausted. It was as if all his energy just got sucked out.

Mario could hear footsteps and then his mom was kneeling right in front of him too. She put her hand on his cheek which made him instinctively lean into it. He felt like he could fall asleep right there.

“What happened tesoro? Are you okay?”, his mom’ s concerned voice brought him out of his haziness. She gave him the same worried look as Luigi.

Mario opened his mouth to give a respond, but his throat still hurt too much to speak. And if he was being honest with himself, what would he even say? He didn’t want to tell what actually happened. He would only ruin Sofia’s birthday even more than he already had, and he would make his family unnecessarily worry about something that he shouldn’t even be struggling with. But he was also physically and emotionally too exhausted to come up with a lie.

“Mario?”

His mom looked even more worried than before which made Mario realize that he must have stayed silent for a bit too long. He gave her a smile and a quick thumbs up to signal her that everything was fine, but it was clear that she and Luigi didn’t believe him.

“Mario-“, Luigi started this time but Mario interrupted him.

“I’m fine”, Mario pressed the words out. It hurt but it was necessary to convince Luigi and his mom that he was fine enough to continue because he really didn’t want to ruin Sofia’s birthday completely and he certainly didn’t want to talk about anything that happened back there.

Luigi and his mom still didn’t look convinced, but they seemed to understand that Mario wouldn’t talk, so they didn’t press any further.

“Alright. Then let’s go back to the others”, his mom said. She gave his shoulder one last comforting squeeze before she stood up.

Luigi got up from his kneeling position too, extending a hand towards him to help him stand up as well. Mario gratefully took it. His legs still felt wobbly, but it wasn’t as bad as it was before. Together they walked to where Uncle Tony, Uncle Arthur, Sofia and his dad were standing.

They all looked worried but before anybody could say anything, his mom spoke up: “Everything’s okay now.” She gave them a pointed look that clearly said, “no asking questions” and Mario was glad for that. Then she turned to Sofia with a smile. “Say, Sofia what do you want to do next?” At that Sofia immediately brightened up as she pointed to the next thing she wanted to do.

The rest of the family joined and so the day continued. Mario tried to be joyful during the whole time, forcing himself to smile and laugh whenever Sofia pulled him and the rest of the family into new games to try out.

While he knew that Luigi and his mom could probably look right through him as they kept a close eye on him, he hoped that at least the others wouldn’t be able to. Though from time to time he could see that even his father gave him a concerned look, so it didn’t seem that he was doing a convincing job. He was so tired. All he wanted to do was lay down in a bed and sleep forever.

Finally, the day came slowly to an end. The sun had already begun to sink behind the horizon as they went back home. Since Aunt Marie was sick, it was his mom who took over with cooking. She prepared spaghetti with meatballs as Sofia had wished for her birthday.

After dinner there was cake that Aunt Marie had already baked the day before. Sofia was still in high spirits even though it was starting to get late and even though they spent the whole day at the FunMush park.

Mario though for his part felt very tired. Not having been able to sleep through a whole night, either because of his own or Luigi’s nightmares, since he was back plus the panic attack from today, really made the exhaustion catch up with him for good. So not long after the cake but also not too short to seem unpolite, Mario excused himself.

Nobody said anything against it, not even Uncle Arthur or Uncle Tony teased him about getting to bed ‘quite early for someone his age’, which probably meant that he must’ve looked as bad as he felt. They all just wished him a good night and then Mario was finally alone in his and Luigi’s room.

He put on his pyjamas, brushed his teeth, and crawled under his bed sheets, ready to just fall asleep and forget everything that happened today when the door to the room opened. Mario didn’t even need to open his eyes to know that it was Luigi.

The light was turned on, footsteps could be heard before he felt the bed dip beside him. A hand touched his shoulder.

“Hey”, Luigi began in a soft tone. There was a longer pause before he continued, seemingly needing to gather his thoughts first. “You- This afternoon on that roller coaster- you really freaked out there. It really scared me too. What happened? I’ve never seen you like this.”

Mario took a few seconds before he finally turned around to face his brother. There was nothing but concern written over his face. He knew he couldn’t lie. He was in no state to pretend that everything was fine, and Luigi already knew that something was wrong. But he also really didn't want to talk about it. He didn’t need Luigi to worry about additional things when he already had enough to deal with himself.

But then again, he knew that he would need to talk about it at some point because he knew that Luigi would absolutely worry if he didn’t talk about it. Mario sighed. Better get it over with now.

Mario sat up so that he was able to face his brother.

“I guess”, he started, “this roller coaster just reminded me of the whole Rainbow Road fiasco.”

“Cranky- DK’s father- suggested using karts to quickly return to the Mushroom Kingdom via a shortcut so that we could ambush Bowser and his troop during their attack”, Mario explained. “The shortcut was a rainbow road. Literally. It was a rainbow that served as a road. It was unbelievable.”

Mario paused and took moment to gather his thoughts. He didn’t know why it was so hard to form into words what happened back there. Still, he forced himself to continue.

“So”, Mario went on, “it turns out that Bowser knew we were going that route and his troop ambushed us instead. The whole chase was crazy. It kinda felt like being on a roller coaster.”

Mario took a deep breath.

“We did almost manage to escape them. But then a blue-shelled koopa flew towards us and exploded right on me and DK. I don’t know how, and I honestly try not to think about it”, he chuckled but there was no humour to it. “Anyway, the road broke and we were falling. I thought I was gonna- but then we hit the water. Which was good I guess until we were eaten by a gigantic eel.”

Not wanting to go into more detail, Mario just carried on. “But of course we made it out and yeah. That was that.” Not really knowing what to say anymore, he stopped talking.

“Whoa.” Was all that Luigi said.

“But it’s okay, I’m fine-“

“No you’re not”, interrupted Luigi. “Are you even listening to yourself? You had a panic attack today because of what experienced on that rainbow road. You are clearly not fine.” There was no anger in Luigi’s voice. It was like he was just stating a fact.

Mario’s first instinct was to protest that he was fine, but he paused. He did have frequently nightmares about it even though it was not the only event he had nightmares about. The panic attack today didn’t make things better. He was tired. He was so so tired.

Luigi took gently his hands into his. “I’m sorry I didn’t notice you were struggling this much. I-“

“No, Luigi, no!” Mario couldn’t help but stop Luigi right there. “It’s not your fault, you weren’t even supposed to know. You have enough struggles yourself you don’t need to be burdened with mine.”

Luigi gave him a sad look.

“We can take care of each other”, he said. “You don’t always have to be strong you know. I’m here for you too just like you are for me.”

Before Mario knew it, he started trembling. Everything was just too much. A lump started to form in his throat and his eyes started to burn. He swallowed but the lump didn’t go away.

Warm arms enveloped him. He was being pulled close until Mario was buried into Luigi’s chest. The trembling intensified, and before he could stop it, the tears started to trail down his face. A hand started to stroke through his hair while Mario tried to focus on Luigi’s heartbeat to help get a hold of himself. It wasn’t working.

His body shook with his sobs, so he gave up and just let it go through the motions. Luigi held him the whole time, never once letting go.

When he finally managed to get a hold of himself, he felt even more tired which he didn’t think was possible. Mario didn’t have the strength to protest when Luigi laid him down and covered him with a blanket.

“Sleep. I think you really need it”, was the last thing he heard before he fell asleep.

Later that night, he awoke again from a nightmare. He shot up, trembling and shaking. It was hard to breathe, his throat was on fire like he was drowning. Like he was back in that cold water waiting to die, knowing Luigi would die too because he wouldn’t be able to save him-

And then warm arms were suddenly around him, holding him close very similar just like a few hours ago. “You’re okay”, Luigi said as he soothingly rubbed his back.

Mario didn’t say anything, he was just clinging to him until he was able to calm down. He vaguely realized that Luigi must have anticipated that there was a chance that he would be having a nightmare tonight. Mario had gotten used to wake up quietly after a nightmare so he wouldn’t wake up his brother and tonight hadn’t been any different.

So, either Luigi stayed up the whole time or he was just sleeping very lightly which often happened when he was worried about something. It was probably the latter one.

Finally, after who knows how long, Mario managed to calm down again. Still, he didn’t want to let go. He wasn’t ready to lose Luigi’s comforting touch just yet. He didn't… he didn’t want to sleep alone. He also didn’t want to voice all of these things because he didn’t want to inconvenient Luigi any further than he already had. Apparently, it wasn’t even necessary.

As if Luigi could read his mind, he took Mario by the hand and guided him over to his bed. No words were spoken, and they didn’t need to. Luigi gently laid them both down on the bed in a way that Mario was now laying on Luigi’s chest with arms wrapped protectively around him.

It was a weird position to be in. Normally Mario was the one who held Luigi like this. Arms wrapped protectively around him, letting his brother know that he was always there for him, giving him comfort and a sense of being protected. Being the one who was receiving this kind of hug now was definitively something he was not used to.

It felt good though. It felt good to be able to be vulnerable and knowing that somebody was there to hold you through it.

Mario closed his eyes and let sleep wash over him.

#smb #mario #luigi #super mario bros #super mario bros movie #the super mario bros #super mario #braincellfic #slightly nervous about posting this but I've been working on this way too long so here we go #tw panic attack

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cillianmesoftlyyy · 9 months

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At the Cabaret Pt. 4 | Tommy Shelby x fem!character

Summary: Tommy fights his inner dialogue while Lenore recovers from the very serious trauma that has occurred. Will she actually ever be able to recover and will she ever actually forgive Tommy for his role in what happened? A rift has set in between the two key-players and yet at the same time, Tommy begins to fall in love.

Warnings: Mentions of the previous sexual and physical assault. Lasting injuries and recovery, stitches and pain. Polly discusses domestic abuse. Mentions of semen and some minor graphic details from the previous chapter. I used the word "r*pe" once or twice when referring to the assault (because that's what it was). This chapter focuses on the deescalation of the previous events. Read with caution and take care! The next few chapters will be much less intense. Thank you for baring with me!

word count: 4720k

I Know It's Over- Jeff Buckley 🎵

Radio- Lana Del Rey 🎶

Don't Hate Me- Lola Young 🎵

Check warnings!

Lenore had James’ eyes. They could have been twins if they weren’t two years apart in age. It was hard for him to see Lenore after coming back because every time he spoke to her, he saw James in her face. Seeing her like this… it felt like James was dying all over again and there was nothing that he could do. He shouldn’t have left her, she was right. She was so right and he cursed himself for being so blind, so selfish, and stupid. He sat there as she slept and cringed at the feeling in his heavy chest. Even though James was now dead, he always felt like James would kill him if he touched her, for even thinking about her in that way. He hadn’t thought about her in that way until he saw her at the Cabaret after all those years they had been apart.

She knew all about his sex-life and the whores he took to bed. Why did she care? Didn’t she see that he couldn’t feel the same way about people that maybe she could? Love was hard, it was a shell of a feeling that he couldn’t quite crack open. It’s not that he didn’t want to love but that part of his soul seemed closed off to him. Seeing her dance at the Cabaret made him want her… sexually. He stopped seeing her as a sister and as a woman he wanted. He shied away from the way she made him feel. He felt it was wrong in the way he wanted her. Up until now, he’d only seen her as a baby-sister, the sister of his best friend. But he cared whether she lived or died. He wanted to see her perform without a deep dreg of guilt. He wanted to take her home and make love to her. He wanted her to be his in every way.

She slept for another hour and he stayed with her until she awoke, shifting against the sheets restlessly. When she opened her eyes, stale tears lingered beneath her eyelashes.

“Tommy?” She furrowed her eyebrows, trying to collect the pieces of her fragmented mind. He hummed a response.

“Tommy?” She said again.

“Yes?”

“Will you take me home now?” She asked softly and he nodded.

“Yeh, come on.” He helped her sit up and she winced. “Careful now.” He warned as she swung her legs over the bed. He helped her rebuckle her shoes that the nurses had taken off and supported her hip as she took a few tentative steps forward.

“Alright?” He asked as she hobbled forward.

“Think so.” She mumbled, her eyes set straight in careful concentration. They got through into the waiting room and Tommy spotted his brothers and aunt Polly waiting on a set of metal chairs. John and Arthur were arguing and Polly was smoking a cigarette quietly, rolling her eyes as the boys talked. When she saw Tommy and Lenore, she stood and stubbed out her cigarette.

“My God, Tommy.” She muttered under her breath and Tommy shot her a threatening look.

“How are you, girl?” Arthur asked with a small brotherly smile.

“I’m alright…” She answered,

“As much as one could expect, eh?” Polly cut-in and shook her head. “Come with us, Lenore. We’ll get you home.” She got her handbag and Arthur harassed John for the keys to the car.

“Let John drive. He’s less drunk.” Polly snapped and followed them out. Tommy slipped off his heavy black coat and put it around Lenore’s shoulders.

“Come on then?” He rubbed her shoulder as she walked down the steps to the waiting car. Polly was sitting in the backseat and helped her climb inside. She patted her thigh affectionately and glanced over at Tommy.

They said nothing as they drove, except Arthur who caught Tommy up on the recent developments. They’d bought the racetrack at a cheap price and were officially switching owners.

“Mm good.” Tommy nodded, distracted and lit a cigarette. He offered it to Lenore who took a long drag and exhaled with her head falling gently on the backseat.

“We’re taking you home with us,” Tommy told her, “to our place in Small Heath.”

“Why?”

“It’ll be safer for you there,” was all he said. It was dark outside by the time they parked the car outside their building. Tommy helped her out of the car and through the door, directing her to the kitchen where she could sit by the fire. Finn, only ten or so, stood just outside the door into the pantry and watched as Tommy set her down in a chair. Lenore still felt as though she were crying though no tears actually fell. She felt like she was sobbing but she made no sound.

“Finn, go to the Garrison and get some whiskey.” Tommy ordered and Finn scampered off with his hat pulled down over his head.

“We’ll uh, leave you alone.” Arthur cleared his throat and pulled John away from the kitchen. Polly rolled her eyes again and clicked her tongue at Tommy.

“Go with them, Tom. I’ll sit with her until the whiskey gets back.”

Tommy looked at Lenore and sucked on the inside of his cheek before following John and Arthur into the other room. With Tommy gone, Lenore felt colder. She pulled his jacket closer around herself and slipped slightly in the seat, hissing in pain.

“Poor girl.” Polly tutted and pulled up a chair opposite her by the fire. “Now I know this is all still fresh and painful but I’d like to know what happened, Lenore.”

“You’re Polly?” Lenore asked carefully, recognizing her face from years before. Polly chuckled.

“Right. I knew you and your brother well. I knew your mother too… god rest her soul,” she paused and lit a cigarette. She handed one to Lenore and lit it for her. “I’m sorry about your brother James. I’m sure you already know how much Tommy loved him. It’s a shame what happened to him, and I’m sorry.” She stared into the hearth and flicked her cigarette onto the hot smoke. Lenore exhaled a string of smoke up into the air and nodded.

“I know.” Was all she could say.

“And I’m sorry about what happened today too.” Polly looked back at her with knowing eyes. Lenore said nothing but bit her lip and tried to hide her black eye in the shadow of the fireplace.

“He gave you quite the shiner, eh?” She tried to smile, “I used to get them nearly everyday from my late-husband.” She crossed her legs.

“You did?” Lenore asked.

“Oh yes. He beat me almost every chance he got. And then he died in some accident and I’ve never had one since.” She looked up at the ceiling and blew out a cloud of smoke.

“You’re a Cabaret dancer, yeah?” Polly asked.

“Yes.” She nodded.

“So you’ve seen it before, haven’t you? The things those men will do to working girls?”

She nodded again and looked away, remembering the bruises and cuts girl’s received when they returned from the back alley or back rooms, hoping to make a little more money and getting robbed of it instead.

The front door opened and Finn ran in with a bottle of whiskey. He set it down on the kitchen table and ran into the other room to find his brothers. Polly poured them both a tall glass and handed one to Lenore.

“Now, Lenore, tell me what that son-of-a-bitch did to you.” She said calmly and swallowed half of the glass. Lenore watched her, tears coming to her eyes as she remembered the pain. She downed the glass of whiskey and nodded, preparing herself to speak. Tommy and John sat silently in the next room listening. Arthur took Finn outside to fool around and distract him from what was happening in the kitchen.

“Tommy took me to the races so that I could distract Billy Kimber while he tried to make a deal with his men and everyone else could deal with the croons stealing money from gamblers. I did as he asked, and I danced with Kimber but Kimber was… so mad.” Her voice broke and she took a deep breath before continuing, “he was so mad that I had arrived with Tommy and pulled me off the dance floor. He said that since he’d been so kind to me or something before, I had to pay him back. He forced me through the room and off into a bathroom. I tried to fight him but he pushed me and punched me. He held me down…” she paused again. “He held me down and slammed my head against the floor whenever I tried to fight him. I tried to scream for Tommy but he covered my mouth. He couldn’t get it up so he rubbed himself for a while before he could….” She swallowed. “It was so disgusting to hear him and I felt like I was going to get sick over and over again but I didn’t. I wanted to faint but I couldn’t. When we heard Tommy’s gunshot, he tried to finish faster.”

“Did he cum?” Polly asked matter-of-factly.

“Yes, but he was so small I don’t think it got very far…” She almost started laughing because it was all too much to handle.

“Of course he was. That just makes sense.” She chuckled and nodded her on.

“When he finished Tommy got up to the door and tried to get in but he couldn't. I tried screaming and when I did, Kimber kicked me with the toe of his shoe. I was worried that it might have broken something but I think the doctor only had to do some stitches.”

“Where did he kick you?” Polly raised an eyebrow. Lenore pointed to her crotch slowly.

“Here.”

“Jesus, he kicked you right in the cunt?” Polly grimaced and shook her head.

Arthur cringed in the other room and instinctively covered his groin. Tommy ignored him and spun his cigarette slowly in his fingers.

“Then Tommy got in and shot him. I had his blood on me…” She shivered. Polly patted her hand gently and inhaled deeply.

“I want you to know that I understand. I know.” She said evenly and Lenore understood what she meant.

“Has it happened before?” Polly asked.

“No, usually I can say no without it becoming an issue.” She shook her head, reminiscing about all the time she had denied someone. “It's the powerful men, they think they can do whatever they want with me.” She sneered angrily and almost mentioned Tommy but even though Tommy did exactly as she thought he would and left her in a vulnerable situation, he wouldn’t do what Kimber did to her.

“I know what you’re thinking, Lenore, but you know he wouldn’t do that.” Polly said in a low voice. “He’s better than that. He’s not a great man but he’s a good man.”

Lenore nodded and drank the rest of her whiskey.

“I’ll draw you a bath. You can sleep in Ada’s room. She married that communist… what’s his name… Feddie Thorne,” she snapped her fingers. “Come on, follow me.” She showed her up the stairs and to a bedroom on the second floor. The walls were painted a dirty blue with dark wallpaper. Ada’s old room was the same color as the hall and it had a small bed with a pink quilt. There was a makeup stand with a few books stacked on the edge, an old oriental rug, and a gaslamp.

“The bathroom’s down the hall. I’ll bring in the tub for your bath. You should wash tonight, it’ll make you feel better.”

“Thank you, Polly.” She whispered, so comforted by the small acts of kindness. Polly nodded and left the room momentarily. She removed Tommy’s coat and laid it out on the bed. She removed her jewelry and gloves, pushing them to the side of the bed. She took off her shoes and her stockings. Polly came back with the heavy tub and put it down.

“The water’s on,” she smiled and stepped out again. Lenore went to the makeup stand and picked up Ada’s old brush, the silver handle with beautiful designs. She brushed her hair and rubbed her face with her hands. The door opened again and Polly carried two large buckets of hot, steaming water. She poured them into the tub.

“There’s two more.” She hurried out again and was back quickly with two more pails. When she dumped them into the bath she wiped her brow and directed Lenore to get in. “It’ll be hot so wait a few minutes but it's all yours.”

“Thank you.” Lenore smiled and looked down at the clean, steaming water. Polly left and closed the door behind her. Lenore stripped off her dress and held the ruddy fabric between her hands, crying softly into the material. She’d made the dress herself and now she hated the sight of it. The red was grotesque and frightening now. She draped the dress over a wooden dowel drying rack and climbed slowly into the bath. The water was hot but incredibly soothing. She lowered herself down and spread out in the metal basin. With careful fingers, she scrubbed every inch of her body with a bar of soap Polly had left for her. She washed her face and cleaned below her fingernails.

There was a soft knock at the door and she saw Tommy’s head emerge from behind the door.

“I brought you more water.” He held up two buckets.

“I’m naked, Tommy.” She laughed softly, weakly. Tommy shrugged, shaking the water in the buckets as he did so.

“I know.”

“Are you ok with that?” She asked again and he nodded.

He approached the bath slowly and knelt by the basin. He avoided looking into the water where her naked body floated like a lily pad and slowly added more water into the tub. He started to stand when she reached out for his arm. She said nothing as she held the loose fabric of his shirt and he looked down at her trying to decipher the message she sent him with her eyes. He pulled up a chair from the side wall and sat beside her, keeping some distance so he wasn’t looking directly into the water. He lit a cigarette and handed it to her, she smoked it in the bath, sliding her head down almost into the water. They sat in silence as she finished washing herself. Tommy stood and retrieved a towel from the trunk at the foot of Ada’s bed and opened it up. Lenore stood in the bath, water dripped from her and the cold December air snuck through the thin windows and chilled her. Tommy wrapped her in the towel and helped her out of the bath.

She sat on Ada’s bed while he went into her drawers and found an old set of pajamas, one with pants. Without saying a word, he removed her towel and pulled the camisole over her head. He noticed the light bruising on her chest and stomach where Kimber had grabbed her. He pulled the pants over her feet and up her thighs, pressed against the bed, over her cunt and the small mess of blondish brown hair that started something in his stomach. She pulled her legs up to her chest and shivered. He took Ada’s brush from the table and ran it through her wet hair, with a gentle precision that stunned her. He pulled back the covers and helped her climb inside. He draped his jacket over her for extra warmth and moved the gaslight to sit by the bed.

“I’m just in the next room, the one on the right. Polly is downstairs by the living room. You’re safe here,” he reminded her and bent down slowly, kissing her on her forehead and lingering his lips on her damp skin.

He rose and left quietly and she watched as his back receded into the darkness of the hallway. She fell asleep almost immediately and when she awoke, it was an hour after 2am. She sat up in bed and looked around. The room was dark and still. She felt like she was living in a corpse and got up from the cold bed. Quietly, she snuck out into the hallway. She could hear Arthur talking downstairs with John. She assumed Polly had gone to sleep like Finn. There was still light coming from beneath Tommy’s door. She stood there for a while, wondering what she should do. She felt cold and empty, plagued by Kimber’s touch and blood. She wanted to be held and she wanted Tommy to do it. She turned the knob and opened the door slowly. He was standing in front of the small fireplace in his room, wearing a white undershirt and his suit pants. He heard her come in and turned, slightly surprised to see that she was awake.

“Is everything ok?” He asked.

“Can I sleep with you tonight?” She asked quietly and he looked back at the fireplace briefly before turning to her and nodding. His bed was pushed against the wall, an opium pipe hidden beneath his pillow. He pulled out the pipe and set it on his desk.

“What do you use that for?” She asked, recognizing its purpose.

“Nightmares.” He said and then looked down at her, “but you won’t need it because you won’t have any, alright? You won’t have any nightmares while you’re here.”

She nodded, her lip quivered and he directed her into his bed and held her close to his chest, resting his chin on her head. She breathed in his scent and felt her body relax slowly into the barrier he provided against the world. She sighed sleepily and looked up at him.

“Tommy?”

“Mm?”

“Do you remember when I said that you were beautiful?” She whispered. She felt him smile and nod.

“Yeah.”

“I take it back.”

“Why?” He furrowed his brow but kept his voice straight.

“Because you’re more than just beautiful, Tommy.” She pushed herself up on her elbows so she could look down at him. He inhaled deeply.

“I’m sorry, Lenore.” He whispered in his deep voice.

“I know.” She nodded and put her head against his neck so that she could kiss him gently beneath his jaw. When she pulled away, he supported her head in his hands and brought her gently to his lips. He kissed her softly, neither of them moved their lips as they pulled away, just savoring the way their lips felt against each other. She nestled back against her chest and fell asleep to the rhythm of his breathing.

…

When she woke up, he was still holding her against his chest, asleep. She savored the way he smelled and how the sheet felt wrapped around their legs like spiderwebs. Her lower body ached and she burrowed closer to Tommy’s chest, seeking out his warmth. His eyes opened slowly and the light of day brightened his aquamarine irises. He inhaled deeply and stretched his arms out above his head and Lenore clung to his chest, holding his shirt in her hands.

“How do you feel?” He asked her, his voice raspy from sleep.

“It still hurts a little.” She answered honestly and hissed quietly when Tommy trailed his fingers gently over her blackeye.

“It looks like it hurts.” He frowned and looked down at her, his eyes swelling with a shared sense of pain and desire to protect her from it.

“Do you want some water?” He asked and when she nodded, he reached over to his bedside table and poured her a cup of water from a glass bottle. She sat up in the bed, leaning against the wall at the head of the bed and drank the water with both hands. He watched from below, his pinky finger resting against her side discreetly. The bedroom door banged open and Arthur walked in loudly. When he saw them in bed, he froze and laughed awkwardly. Tommy looked at him and then at the back wall, his gaze returning to its steely position as he clenched his jaw, slightly embarrassed.

“Sorry, Tommy. I didn’t think she was in here.” He ran a hand through his hair and started to back out.

“What is it, Arthur?” Tommy rubbed his face in his hands and sat up.

“Polly wants to see you.” He grunted and winked at Lenore before closing the bedroom door. Tommy sighed and shoved himself out of the bed they had crammed themselves into the night before.

“What do you think she wants?” She asked.

“She probably wants to know if we’re keeping the shop open today.” He went to his closet and took out a dress shirt. He put it on quickly and tucked it into his pants.

“Tommy.” She called from the bed.

“Hm?” He looked over his shoulder.

“Your trousers are creased from sleeping.” She pointed and he looked down at the lazy seams.

“Fuck, you’re right.” He sighed and removed a second pair of dress trousers from his closet. He stripped off his trousers, standing in his basic cotton briefs and pulled on the new ones. Then he tucked in his shirt, buttoned up his vest, and found the matching suit jacket. She watched him put on socks and shoes, simple domestic acts that felt so sensual and loving in the ways he did it. Finally he slipped his pocket watch into his vest pocket and walked back over to the bed.

“I’ll be back, eh?” He smoothed his thumbs over her face and his heart melted when she nodded.

“Ok, Tommy.” She murmured and he went to the door.

“Good, girl.” He nodded goodbye and slipped out into the hall and she could hear him clamor down the stairs to the kitchen where Polly must have been waiting for him.

Lenore pulled the covers back up to her chin and fell asleep once more in his bed.

Tommy thundered down the stairs. Polly was waiting for him in the kitchen, chain smoking. Arthur and John sat at the kitchen table, each with a short glass of whiskey.

“What is it?” Tommy asked as he sat down at the table. Arthur and John looked away, embarrassed.

“Really, Tommy?” Polly burst out, gesturing to the stairs. “Why’s that girl in your bed?”

“She asked to sleep with me and I let her.” Tommy sighed and glanced angrily at Arthur.

“Sorry, Tommy-” Arthur started but Polly waved her cigarette at him.

“Oh shut up will yah? You slept with her?” She leaned on the table and pointed the butt of her cigarette at him.

“I was comforting her.” He furrowed his eyebrows.

“That’s what you call comforting? After all you fucking put her through!” She shook her head. Tommy jumped up, knocking his chair back and slammed his fist on the table.

“I didn’t fuck her, Pol, if that’s what you’re accusing me of. God knows why after all I did and fucked up, she came to me and asked me to be with her and I couldn’t deny her that. I may not be a good man but I’m not fucking Kimber, eh? She just wanted to sleep with me and so I let her!” He yelled at them and grabbed a third glass to fill it with whiskey.

“Now, now that we’ve covered that fucking issue, what was the real reason you wanted to see me?” He growled darkly and took a swig of the liquor.

…

When she woke up the second time, Lucy was there beside Tommy’s bed.

“Oh Lenore, good you’re awake!” She exclaimed and took her hand. “I’ve been so worried.”

“Lucy?” She rubbed her eyes sleepily. “How’d you know where I was?” She asked.

“Tommy sent me a message at the Cabaret. I was worried sick when you didn’t come home last night. He explained what happened… I’m so sorry, Nore.” She squeezed Lucy’s hand back and smiled sadly. Not wanting to cry, she changed the subject.

“Where’s Tommy now?”

“Polly said that he’s at the Garrison with Arthur and John. He’s been in and out all day apparently.”

“Mhmm.” She hummed softly and sat up.

“He’s posting a guard outside our flat just for the time being, until everything blows over, he said. They dumped Kimber’s body in the canal and paid off his men but it's better to be safe than sorry.” She chuckled awkwardly.

“You know I feel like this is all my fault in the first place for encouraging you to meet with Tommy. Maybe if I hadn’t, we’d never be in this situation.”

“Don’t say that, Luce.” She cut her off.

“Has Tommy been good to you since?”

“Yes, Luce. He’s been wonderful. It doesn’t change what happened but I feel safer.” Lenore answered honestly.

“You’re in his bed…” Lucy pointed out suggestively and Lenore rolled her eyes.

“It’s not what you think, Lucy. I just needed to be with someone… I didn’t want to be alone. We didn’t have sex, I don’t think I even could.”

“But would you have wanted to?”

“I was just raped, Lucy. Of course I didn’t want to have sex with him. I just wanted to be close to him. I wanted to feel protected and that’s what he did.”

“Maybe he is a good man after all.”

“If that’s the standard… it's a pretty low bar, Luce.”

“Well, just think about the people we work with, Nore. What kind of men would they be?” She raised an eyebrow and Lenore sighed.

“I don’t want to think about bad men for a while, ok?” She asked weakly and Lucy lowered her eyes.

“Of course, I’m sorry. When do you want to come back to the flat?”

“Tonight, if I can. I want to go home to my own bed and my own clothes.”

“Ok, I’ll ask Polly if she can drive us.” Lucy nodded and stood. “Lenore?”

“Yes?”

“Do you think you love him?” Lucy asked with a lowered voice.

“I don’t know, Lucy.” She shook her head and closed her eyes.

She borrowed one of Ada’s old coats and returned Tommy’s to his room. On a piece of paper that she took from his small desk, she wrote: Tommy,

I’m going back to my flat with Lucy. Thank you for taking care of me. Come to the Cabaret sometime and I’ll show you a good time. - Nore

Smiling, she left the note on the casing of his pillow, it relaxed on the old indent of her head. She brushed her fingers over the sheets, fingering the thick ridges of fabric. Part of her wanted to stay, to be close to him in every way but she also wanted to go home, she needed to go home. She wanted to be in her own bed, a place she recognized. As much as she tried to trust Tommy, she wanted to be around women for a little while.

Polly drove them back to their flat and got out of the car with them to hug Lenore goodbye. Polly’s fur lined coat was soothing against her skin and she hugged the woman back. Lucy climbed the stairs as Lenore pulled away.

“Be strong.” Polly smiled. “It’ll get better.”

“Thanks Polly.” She nodded and stepped away.

“And Lenore!” Polly called as Lenore started up the steps to the second floor landing. “He wants to do the right thing, Tommy does, but you can always say no. He won’t hold you to anything, Lenore.”

“Ok.” She answered slowly, confused but Polly climbed back into the car before she could ask anything else. The milky white headlights floated away with the car and she sighed, climbing back up the stairs to her flat. She drank tea with her flatmates and was caught up on all of the Cabaret news.

“The audience is going mad without you.” Clara tutted. “I’ve tried to keep them entertained for the 24 hours that you’ve been gone but nothing will help!” She giggled.

“I’m going back tomorrow.” Lenore announced suddenly and the girls fell quiet.

__________

End of part 4 :)

#peaky blinders #thomas shelby #tommy shelby #cillian x fem!reader #cillian fluff #fanfiction #peaky blinder fanfic #cabaret #burlesque #1920s #cillian murphy #peaky blinder imagine #fanfic #cillian x reader

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gracelaurie · 9 months

Text

Falling into your ocean eyes 🌊❤️ | Orm Marius x Fem!Reader

Part 4

Warning ⚠️ : harsh words, Orm still in prison, a Plot Twist between Orm and Y/N.

for the next part ➡️ masterlist

“Is she alright?” King Nerius said worriedly.

Mera who previously put her hand on Y/N's chest, nodded, “I don’t think she is, Father. She felt extremely cold, but I think she can still be helped.”

“She had Hypothermia,” said Arthur very confidently. Mera and King Nereus looked at him in confusion. “it’s a type of disease experienced by surface dwellers.”

“I felt there was something wrong with her heart,” Mera said, “she’s not dead, she’s in a coma.”

“So what are we going to do?” King Nerius asked.

“Let me take her,” Arthur quickly took Y/N's body and carried her, “I'll take her to the hospital on the surface.”

Mera nodded, “I should’ve been able to find her and help her quickly, I can’t believe it,” she looking at her sister painfully, “this was my biggest mistake.”

“No, it wasn’t,” King Nereus said with a blank look, “This is all my fault. She already told me that she was dying. I heard her voice. She was trying to survive. I’m sorry.”

Mera looked at her father with a look full of disappointment, “Did you really think that I didn’t know about this all along?”

“When I found out that the woman that Orm always mentioned in his sleep was my sister, I did everything I can to meet Y/N.” Mera said again while shedding tears.

Mera wiped her tears, “But I think it’s too late now,”

“I’m sorry—“

“No, you’re not, father.” Mera answered and then she left her father with full of disappointment.

***

Y/N opened her eyes, everything looked very blurry. She didn’t even know where she is now, but she knew for sure she was no longer in Atlantis.

“Hey, you’re awake, aren’t you, Strange-Girl?” Arthur's voice made Y/N realize that she’s now in the hospital. Her vision became clear when Arthur was in front of her now.

“Or should I call you Aurora from Sleeping Beauty now, because you fell asleep for a very long time. Damn.”

Y/N didn’t realize how long she had been asleep in her coma. But looking at the look on Arthur's she seemed have been asleep for a very long time, and she noticed that her own hair had grown quite long.

Seeing Y/N is silent, trying to digest everything, Arthur looked at her and said, “It’s just a coincidence that you’re awake and I’m here. I’m very busy being the King of Atlantis.”

“Where’s Orm?” the first sentence Y/N said after being in a coma for a very long time.

“Oh, um, about that,” Arthur was a little confused about answering, “that’s a long story.”

“No, I don’t need that fucking long story, I already know you won the battle.” Y/N answered quickly, “Where is he? I need to find him.”

“No you can’t find him, Y/N,” Arthur said firmly. “Besides from his prison which is very isolated and it’s really impossible to free him, he made you like this. He put you in prison when you were dying of cold. Think about it.”

“I know.” She said quietly, “During the coma, I could feel that he was tortured, starved, and he was close to death. That prison is like making him die slowly with continuous torture, I can’t, Arthur Curry, I can’t.”

Arthur looked at her with pity and guilt, “i’m so sorry.” He saw Y/N who’s crying right now, she seems like having a mixed emotions.

“Mera visits you here very often. She feels very guilty, she keeps worrying about you. You guys never even talked at all, but you have a family that loves you right now, and that’s what you need.” said Arthur trying to give her a support.

Y/N was just silent. She felt very dizzy and what she felt was difficult to express.

She still hates her father because of what happened last time, but at the same time she feels happy because she has a sister who actually cares about her, even though she has never talked or even met her own sister in person.

And the worst part is, she felt really depressed about Orm. She made plans from the start to connect with the ex-King of Atlantis through her witchcraft. For 5 times they talked under the influence of a dark magic that Y/N herself created.

Meeting Orm in Atlantis did not have a good start. In fact it was bad. Really bad. She hated Orm's sadistic, cruel, jealousy over his own brother, and heartless nature. But at the same time, she missed Orm. Very. The longing was so piercing that she vowed to go into a coma again because she couldn’t live in the shadow of Orm who was being tortured in prison.

She didn’t know how to start her life again. She shouldn’t have feelings this big for Orm. After all, she’ll try to forget all of this and start living without her magic abilities. She knows that her superpower to feel what other people feel will never fade and will continue to be like that. But she would try her best to ignore it.

Forgetting Orm, even though his shadow would often appears. She should be moving on.

***

4 years later….

“You said you were taking care of him!” Arthur cleaned his baby’s dirt while his baby was still crying loudly.

“I know,” said Y/N while turning off the call from her own phone, “I’m just a little busy with my thing, it’s not a big problem.”

“It is a big problem,” Mera said in a slightly annoyed tone while cleaning up the spilled baby milk bottle, “I've told you a hundred times, you have to break up with him, Y/N.”

“I know I'm not good at being a babysitter, but you can’t instigate my personal love life!” Y/N answered.

“As an older sister I told you so,” Mera said firmly, “We have helped you, and you must help us too. this is not what we expected when we returned from Atlantis.”

Y/N was silent, she felt very guilty. She helped clean up the baby food that had spilled on the floor. The mess she made. All this because she was too focused on her surface boyfriend.

“No need for that.” Mera told Y/N to stop, “Atlanna has something to tell you, you have to meet her right now.”

Mera gave her instructions to go to the front yard of the house. Y/N nodded, then she got up and went out to meet Atlanna.

Atlanna smiled then hugged Y/N warmly.

“What do you want to say?” Y/N asked, curious and confused.

“Do you still remember, Orm...?”

She was shocked to hear that, of course she still remembers Orm. She can never stop thinking about him, it's just that she hasn’t heard someone say his name again since 4 years ago.

“Sure… what about him?” Y/N asked with a confused expression.

“Black Manta is becoming stronger and is becoming a big threat to Atlantis. Arthur going to free Orm from his prison tomorrow. This is his choice, his only last choice.”

“I’ve had a strong feelings all this time that I always thought might not be true... Orm is going to released from prison, and if Orm survives for this time…”

Y/N could feel the deep sadness and longing felt by Queen Atlanna. As a mother, she must be much more tormented by the suffering that befell her own son.

“I want him to be in a safe place. with someone who I have always known was the right one for my son..”

Y/N’s heart was beating much faster than usual. Knowing what Queen Atlanna would say.

“I want you to marry my son.”

#aquaman 2018 #ocean master #king orm #fanfics #orm marius #orm marius x reader #aquaman and the lost kingdom #patrick wilson

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jasminesjournal · 3 months

Text

Pairing: Arthur Morgan/Reader

Posting: Tumblr/AO3

Warnings: None

Prompt: Used from this list, “Why do you have to make keeping a distance from you so damn difficult? I’m trying my hardest and you just…”

Plot: Weeks after getting closer to Arthur you realize you can’t just stay away anymore. The outlaw isn’t too keen on letting you stick around but not for lack of wanting you.

It’s been three weeks. Three blasted weeks and that damn outlaw is all Y/N can think about. The way he runs his hand down his face and brushes his beard. The way his hat rests on his head casts a shadow over his face and keeps his eyes protected from the harsh rays of the sun. Most of all, it’s how he talks to her and makes her feel like she has a place in the world that she misses. He told her to stay away, that it wasn’t safe and she should go off and live her life without him. But what he doesn’t know is that Y/N doesn’t have a life without him. She can’t just ride off into the sunset without her beloved cowboy. She needs him like water to a plant drying up and dying in the desert. Where is she without him?

She is nothing and she knows it.

“What are ya doing here?” She hears a gruff voice behind her. She turns around and her smile brightens on her face as she sees the face of her beloved cowboy. Arthur. She missed him more than words can describe.

“I’m here to see you,” she says calmly as if she was supposed to see him this whole time. Like she belongs in his presence and he’s not going to say what he says next.

“You shouldn’t be,” his voice his hushed as he looked around and grabbed her arm before he pulls her closer to him behind the tree. It was a thick one and surrounded them in leaves. She feels his strong form as he pulls her into him. His chest rumbles as he says, “I missed you, girl. Where’ve you been?”

“Around, I tried to stay away, Arthur. Why do you have to make keeping a distance from you so damn difficult? I’m trying my hardest and you just…” Her sentence stops as she notices something on his neck. “Is that a cut?”

Before Arthur can really respond her hand is brushing the small injury. “It’s just a little thing,” He protests.

“Where did you get it?” She’s persistent in her question. She has to know what he did to get hurt, even if it was just a small cut.

He grumbles a bit. Before he finally answers. “It was a train. I was robbin’ it with Dutch and the boys.”

She raises a brow like she’s expecting more of an answer than just robbing a train. There’s always more with Arthur. He sighs when he sees her raise a brow before he continues, “There was a passenger with a knife who thought he could get ta me but he ain’t strong enough to succeed.”

Something stirs in Y/N. He only lived because the passenger wasn’t strong enough to make the mark? “Arthur!” She hisses. “That was too close!”

He raises his hands to soothe her, setting them on her shoulders. “I know, I know, Darlin’ but—”

“No, you listen!” She interrupts them. “I’m not going to have you keep pushing me away only for you to lose your life while I’m living mine without you. So you have me Arthur Morgan because…because—” she struggles to keep her sentence going as she berates the outlaw. Her heart races with her emotion.

“Because why, Darlin’?” He raises a hand to her cheek. His calloused fingers cupping her face as he looks into her eyes with love.

“Because I love you, that’s why.” Her voice cracks as she finishes her sentence. She loves him and to think that he can’t have her in his life is just too much for her.

He pulls her into a hug, his hand rubbing her back as his arm wraps around the back of his neck. “I know, Darlin’,” be murmurs against her hair. “I love you too.”

She pulls from him, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Do you?” She asks. “Because you send me away way too much.”

He chuckles and pauses for a few seconds. He can’t tell her he loves her. After all he’s done he knows she just can’t trust him. He’s sure of it. So he kisses her instead. Deeply.

It takes her breath away because damn he’s a good kisser and she missed those lips. Her fingers tangle in his hair, knocking his hat off in the process. A low noise rises in her throat as she feels herself heat up.

His hands wander her body, holding her to him as he kisses her. Before she knows it, her cowboy is back in her life.

AN:

This is my first Arthur Morgan fic! How’d I do?

#fanfiction writer #ao3 writer #fanfic writing #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #fanfic blog #fanfic #creative writing #arthur morgan x female reader #rdr2 arthur #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan #arthur morgan fluff #arthur morgan x you #red dead redemption arthur #red dead fandom #red dead redemption two #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption fanfiction

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angelinlothian-cha · 4 months

Text

FIRST DATE WITH GEORGE CLARKE

You and George had been really good friends for a while now. Yous spent quite a lot of time together . But recently both ur feelings towards each other have changed. Both scared to admit it.

George’s pov

“George mate just ask her out already we can tell you like Y/N” Chris says to me

“Obviously I like Y/N she’s my best friend” I say to the boys.

Me n Chris invited Arthur television over to have a drink and watch the football.

But the boys are just grilling me about Y/N . I don’t want to admit to them that they’re right. She’s the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. I think we would work so well together I’m just scared she doesn’t feel the same about me.

“Just text her and ask if she would like to do something on Friday night with you” Arthur says to me

By this point I’ve had a few beers “fuck it lads, what should I say”

TEXTS

GEORGE

“Hi Y/NN, was wondering if you are free Friday night we could go to the mini golf place u we’re going talking about the other week and have a few bevs ? Xx”

Y/N

“Hi Georgeyy yeah that sounds sm fun! Defo up for that! Xx”

GEORGE

“Great I’ll see you then! Xx”

“Omg she said yes” I say to the boys

“Of course she didn’t mate, we all knew she would” Chris says

Arthur holds up his drink “to George no longer being single” he laughs and we all cheers.

Y/N pov

A smiled down at my phone I can’t believe George has asked me out. It’s probably not a date I’m just over thinking it. We’re friends, we do stuff together all the time ????

I FaceTime the my best friend Katie to let her know

“Katie you will NEVER guess who’s asked to go mini golf on Friday” I shout as soon as she answers the call

“If you say George I’m gunna die!!!” She says to me

“I’m being delusional thinking this is going to be a date?? We’re just friends right?”

“Girl I’ve seen the way he looks at you” she smirks

“Okay you NEED to show me outfit options as well you need to look the fuck good” says Katie

“He will be all over you”

I just laugh, worrying she’s getting my hopes to high.

After a few hours you finally decide on an outfit .

///Time skip ///

Y/N pov

11:45am I just finished applying the finishing touches to my makeup as I’m about to leave to meet George.

As I get closer to the mini golf. I see George standing outside he’s just on his phone. He looks unreal. Here comes the butterflies. “He’s just a friend” I tell myself.

“Hello you, you look gorgeous” he says whist pulling me into a hug (ahhhhhhhh I’m dying inside)

“Thanks Georgey you look good as well”

After George bet me at crazy golf , we found a table out in the sun and got some cocktails

“If had such a good day thanks for inviting me” I say to him

“So a good first date then??” He smirks clearly more confident after a few cocktails.

(I’m going to die he planned a date for us!)

“This was a date” I smile looking at him

“Yeah of course, I’ve liked you for a while now, was just not sure how you felt” he says

“I like you too George”

He holds onto your hand

“What do you think about giving us a go”

“I would love to” you can’t wipe the smile of ur face

“Great I’ll get more drinks in to celebrate” he giggles

No one’s pov

As the night carries on it’s about 8pm yous are both a bit tipsy and decide it’s time to head home.

Once you reach ur apartment George looks into ur eyes and leans in toward you, his lips touch yours , they feel like they’re supposed to be there. He holds ur hips and depends the kiss and your hands slide to the back of his neck.

“Been wanting to do that for ages” George says as he hugs you.

#george clarke #george clarkey #George clarkey fan fic

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hannahmationstudios · 1 month

Text

I just updated my post-RDR2 Arthur Morgan x Charlotte Balfour fic, Fearless, on AO3! Read Ch.5 here.

Fic synopsis:

Death is only the beginning. When a dying Arthur Morgan is given the chance to make a deal with a mysterious stranger in exchange for more time on earth, he uses his new lease on life to pursue the happiness he never could while still in the Van Der Linde Gang. But when the stranger comes to collect on his end of the deal, Arthur realizes the price for his new life may be more than he suspected… and far more than he ever bargained for.

And a li'l snippet, under the cut:

“Nah, you just gotta learn how to do it,” Arthur assured her, setting his pole down to help. Moving behind her, he took her hands in his, drawing her arms back until her pole was poised over her shoulder, before he slowly pushed it forward again, demonstrating the casting motion she was struggling with. “Like that,” he said, showing her how to do it again. “‘Cept faster. You gotta draw back, then whip it forward – really toss it out there. Try an’ get it in the middle a’ the stream, if you can. That’s where all the big fish usually are.” “Draw back… then whip forward,” Charlotte repeated, doing the motion again slowly. “You make it sound so simple, but… I’m still not sure I’m doing it right.” “You’re gettin’ it—jus’ try again,” Arthur assured her, shifting his stance to hold her hands more securely. “Jus’ draw it back, then push forward. Jus’ like that.” Pulling her arms back towards her shoulder again, he felt her lean into his chest, drawing her fishing-pole behind them, the hummingbird tremor of her heartbeat faint but palpable in her wrists as he held them gently. He could feel his own palms growing warmer as she leaned back into him, his throat prickling and dry, hearing his heart hammering like hoofbeats in his ears as Charlotte took a tense breath, both of them doing their best to keep their manners even and practiced. “Draw back, then… push forward,” Arthur repeated, his voice lower, showing her the motion again. Despite his best efforts, he found his mind anywhere but on the fishing lesson, his throat giving a desperate tremble as he felt her lean back into him again, and he glanced down, noticing a soft pink flush touching her cheeks as she wet her lips, swallowing a heady breath. Arthur swallowed thickly as well, feeling a heavy rock sitting at the base of his throat, making it impossible to breathe, but he did his best to keep his focus, trying not to think about how good she smelled—like delphinium and rosemary, with a faint, lingering hint of apples and raspberries.

(Tag for @photo1030 + I'll happily tag anyone else who would like to be informed of future updates! ❤️)

#arlotte #arthur morgan x charlotte balfour #arthur morgan #charlotte balfour #red dead redemption community #rdr2 fanfic #my writing

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aloysiavirgata · 8 months

Text

Title: Fern Hill

Rating: NC-17

Timeline: pre-series

Category: XF/The Fall crossover

Summary: For everyone who asked for a Stella/Mulder prequel from my little prompt ficlet

Author’s Note:

Oh as I was young and easy in the mercy of his means,

Time held me green and dying

Though I sang in my chains like the sea.

The blonde two stools down is eyeing him unashamedly. She’s got on tight jeans and a white cable knit sweater, summer-wheat hair straight out of a Ralph Lauren ad. Eyes like Lake Tashmoo before a storm.

“You’re Phoebe Green’s American,” she observes. It isn’t a question. Her voice is buttery, a burnt-velvet purr that makes the back of his neck tingle. She sips at a rock glass full of something tawny in the subfusc gloom of the pub.

Mulder, intrigued, moves next to her. “What the fuck?”

She blinks, the barest hint of a smirk tightening her lips. “I’m not wrong.”

“I’m not Phoebe’s anything,” he replies. “She stole my Pink Floyd sweatshirt and burned my Knicks hat. She fucked a vegetarian trumpet player.”

The blonde smiles fully now. “You’re marked forever, I’m afraid. You’ve some kind of animal name, haven’t you? Bear, was it?”

He knows she knows his name, this unsettling girl. Somehow, he knows she does. “Bear,” he agrees.

“Stella,” she says, holding out a slim, white hand. “You’re Fox.”

It’s a warm plum in her mouth. Delicious, desirable, something to be proud of. Belongs in the Ralph Lauren ad with her pre-Raphaelite face and flag of golden hair.

“Mulder,” he says, shaking the proffered hand.

“Mulder.” She squeezes his fingers, then withdraws.

Mulder sips his gin and tonic, pondering. “So you know Phoebe socially,” he says. “That must be a hell of a thing. As a woman.”

Stella considers him down the length of her nose. She has the androgynous beauty of a Greek youth. A Roman statue of Minerva.

“Where do you think she got the idea for Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s grave,” Stella asks.

He almost chokes on an ice cube.

“If you’re coughing you’re breathing,” she observes, dispassionate, as he nearly hacks up a lung.

Mulder’s heart rate settles back to normal after a moment. He looks at Stella, the hard lines of her cheekbones, her incongruously cute freckles.

He thinks of Stella and Phoebe together. Wonders if he could make that happen, their peony mouths and fine-boned faces. He would be willing to temporarily make up with Phoebe for it. Phoebe would love the theater of a dramatic apology and a threesome.

“Was the grave a hot tip or a shared experience?”

Stella only smiles, sphinx-link. Taps her glass in the bartender’s direction.

“Does it matter,” she asks, watching as her drink is refilled.

Tremendously.

“No. Do people do a lot of Brando impressions?” He clutches his t-shirt with an anguished expression.

She chuckles a bit at that and Mulder feels like the cleverest man in England. In the Northern Hemisphere.

“Plenty,” she says. “Which I like, because it creates a self-selecting population of people to avoid.”

People, he notes. Not men. He thinks of Phoebe again, her dark hair against Stella’s blonde, imagines ringing her up and what he’d say and-

Stella’s hand on his thigh. “Where do you live?” she asks. Her voice is obscene, her high breasts soft against the sweater, slender neck and perfume rich with amber and honey and musk.

He gulps at his drink. “Uni flat. You?”

“Summertown,” she murmurs. “It’ll be nicer than your place.”

Mulder blinks, impressed. His parents give him money but not Summertown money.

“Are you inviting me home with you, Stella?” he asks, low.

She considers him, swirling her glass. “I’m inviting you to my bed. I don’t need you lingering in my home.”

He laughs aloud while wondering if he is capable of falling for a woman who doesn’t have substantial emotional damage. “So you don’t want me to show up with two dozen roses and a box from Charbonnet et Walker?”

Stella sniffs disdainfully. “I’m not interested in the girlfriend role as a concept. I plan to finish school and be a detective.”

He perks up. “I’m planning on the FBI when I wrap up the DPhil. Don’t know that I’m interested in the girlfriend thing as a concept either at his point,” he says, knowing it savors strongly of bitterness.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Stella says. “I think you’d make someone a very nice girlfriend.”

Storm-goddess eyes wicked over her glass.

He pays both tabs and watches her finish the Scotch.

***

Her flat is full of solid wood furniture and good upholstery. Some of the framed artwork appears original, and there’s Cross Townsend pen on her walnut secretary. A stack of leather notebooks that look like Smythsons or Conway Stewarts.

He wishes he could stop this, the eternal analysis.

Her bedroom smells of lemon wood polish and clean cotton and expensive unguents. The queen bed is made, an ivory silk robe draped at the foot of it. There’s no girlish clutter on her shelves, no stuffed bear on the pillow.

There’s a copy of Where the Wild Things Are on the mantel. “Seems a little below your reading level,” Mulder observes.

“It was my favorite book when I was little.” She touches the cover. “Well, one of my favorites at least. I rather wanted to be King of All Wild Things.”

He grins at her. “You wouldn’t have even needed the wolf suit I bet. You’re a bit scary, Stella.”

She snaps her teeth.

Mulder sees the two of them in her gilt-framed mirror, Stella fierce and delicate as a faerie out of Perrault. Her pale throat, her bright eyes. In the moment he wants a cantrip that will bind her.

Her face is serious again. She unbuttons his shirt with focused dexterity, her brows furrowed, her lips pursed. Dior Poison, he sees on the vanity, and gives a name to her scent.

Stella planes her hands over his chest. “Very nice,” she says, peering up through dusky lashes. She pulls her sweater over her head, drops it to the floor. Wriggles out of her jeans and kicks them aside.

He is hard as a fifteen year old.

“I try.” He hasn’t kissed her yet, even though her mouth reminds him of a little Parisian pastry and he wants to nibble at it. Apropos of which, Mulder had expected plain cotton lingerie but it’s all frou-frou lace confectionery trimmed with rosettes and ribbons. Feminine. Delightful. Flawless.

“God, you’re so-“

“Shhh,” she says, pushing him down onto her bed with a single, imperious finger. “I know all that.”

Stella straddles his lap and he’s somehow surprised that such a large presence should weigh almost nothing.

She leans into his grasping fingers, rolls against his tensed thighs. Sighs when he thumbs the front of her panties.

“Stella….”

She leans forward to kiss him, her hard belly against his own. Her clever hands at his fly.

“Let’s see how badly Phoebe fucked up, hmmm?”

***

They had wine from a Thermos and went to bed. She’s lithe and breathless in his arms, spine like worry beads against his palms.

He’d spoken to his father who helpfully reminded him that Samantha had gone missing around this time and shouldn’t he come home to see his mother?

Stella’s fully nude, hair a long braid over her shoulder, and he tugs it experimentally.

Stella makes a liquid noise in her throat, tightens around him.

He unwinds the elastic band and works the plait loose with his fingers. Spools her hair around his hand and pulls down hard until their lips are brushing.

“Fuck,” she hisses into his mouth, and it’s what he needs somehow, the grinding pain of her little teeth and he comes and comes and comes.

***

He’s headed home in six weeks with a DPhil and an acceptance to the FBI Academy and vague praise from his parents.

“Fox,” she groans against his temple. “Fucking hell.”

Mulder nips at her throat, her hair spread behind her like the tail of a comet. “Why did you call me Fox?”

“Why did your mother call you Fox?” she asks.

“She is a very sick woman,” he says into Stella’s patrician ear.

She laughs and bites his lower lip. “Me too,” she mumbles, and her heels dig into his kidneys.

***

They never said goodbye, not really, and he meant to let her go like the tide.

His flight home is in thirty six hours.

“I thought I was ready but I- a pregnant woman,” she says flatly into the phone. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

He lets her use him, her lean swimmer’s legs against his own and her skirt rucked up at her waist and her tailored Met jacket and blouse fallen open along her breasts, lacy cobweb of a bra fighting for its life.

He gazes up at her, pink and silken as rose petals.

White and distant as the moon.

“Hurt me,” she gasps. “Mulder, please, I want-”

He hurts them both.

***

He leads her into the hotel room shower, washes her princess hair while she stands still, staring at nothing.

***

He left bruises along the softest parts of her. The hidden parts, where she asked. The palimpsest of her skin will be flawless again in a few days, and he tries not to think about how else the dark things in her might like to play. He absorbed her pain like charcoal absorbs poison.

“I truly don’t know if I can do this,” she remarks to the ceiling, palms against her eyes.

He tastes her on his lips, oysters and Sauternes. He wants to nudge his face back between her thighs in the way we are called by water. She is primordial and essential and delicate and terrifying. He has an Ivy League degree in psychology, even if it’s only from Pennsylvania, and he still can’t figure her out.

“You can,” he promises, like a faithful acolyte.

“And what does it mean if I can,” she asks and he wonders the same thing about himself.

***

He fucks her against an alley wall, thick with refuse and ennui. She’s gorgeous the way that supernovas and jaguars are gorgeous.

“Stella,” he groans. “Jesus.”

“You’ll miss your flight,” she mumbles, then laughs at the idea that they care.

“You going to see me off?” he pants into her neck. “Kiss me goodbye at the gate?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I told you I have a meeting in 45 minutes.” She hitches a knee up higher. “Oh, god, like that.”

Mulder grinds into her until she cries out, nipping at his chin, his earlobes.

He follows her into the starburst haze of an orgasm, his back shuddering, and Stella hot and twitchy against his chest.

They breathe together for a moment, riding out the wave.

“We both have to go,” Stella reminds him. “A parting of the ways this time, I think.”

Mulder lowers her to the ground. He ties off the condom and shoves it into a garbage can.

He zips his jeans up, watches Stella smooth her uniform, her hair.

“Here’s lookin’ at you kid,” he says, rather lamely.

But Stella smiles one of her rare, full smiles. “One day when you’re a world famous profiler and I’m Commissioner we’ll team up,” she says.

He brushes brick dust from her shoulder. “Why are you running the Met and I’m a lowly Special Agent still?”

She looks confused. “Because I like to be in charge and you don’t. You didn’t want to be King of All Wild Things.”

He palms her jaw, thumbs her cheekbone. He smiles fondly down at her.

“Don’t,” Stella warns.

Mulder shakes his head. “No. Go, run the Met and remember the little people when you ascend the throne.”

She covers her hand with hers for a moment. “Phoebe fucked up badly,” she says. “Now go back to the colonies and teach them how to make a proper cup of tea.”

“We just throw it in the Harbor.”

Stella squeezes his hand before taking it from her face. She walks briskly out of the alley without ever looking back.

***

He makes the plane, though barely. He falls asleep over Dublin. He dreams of sailboats and lonely islands and even in dreaming he knows Stella is right. He wants to be where someone loves him best of all.

#xf fanfic #xfiles fanfic #my fic #prompt #stella gibson #fox mulder #bbc the fall

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artyandink · 8 months

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we could be more | dean winchester | 1

Summary: Ivonne Rainer was practically a trained killing machine. Stripped to the bone then built back up by her father in order to become one of the best, like he was. She was forced into hunting when she was nineteen, having developed powers that couldn’t be explained. That is, until she was paid a visit by Azazel’s lackey. Her powers were gone, she needed help, and that’s when she found her father’s journal. Pointing to Sam and Dean Winchester.

SERIES MASTERLIST

IN MY TIME OF DYING

NOW PLAYING: TRAIN WRECK - JAMES ARTHUR

“How did you get this?” The dad asked me, looking frantically between my arm and my face.

“Calm down.” Sam turned to me, his expression soft. “What’s your name?”

“Ivonne Rainer.” I answered quickly.

“Come with me.” We left, walking to a private room. “Where are you from?” He asked, gently taking my arm and inspecting it.

“A lot of places.” I chuckled, then he looked up.

“This rune is used to bind a witch’s powers to her.” He muttered. “You’re a witch?”

”Sadly.” I quipped, then grimaced. “Not anymore.”

“Why were your powers taken away?”

”I’ve been using my abilities to undo the Devil’s work.” I explained. “Witches mostly use their powers to encourage it. He sent a servant after me to stop me from doing it forever, and now I don’t know what reverses it.”

”This kind of rune?” Sam raised an eyebrow. “Either the death of the demon who cast it or a ‘droplet of love”.”

“The hell is that?” I scoffed.

“I don’t know.”

“I’d say I have better chances of killing the demon.”

“Probably.” Sam smiled cynically. “A drop of love sounds hard to find. Ivonne, I think that if the Devil restricted you, he won’t hesitate to end your work entirely. Stay with me and Dean, when he wakes up. We’ll protect you.”

“I can protect myself.”

“At least help with it.” Sam let go of my arm, folding them. “C’mon, Ivonne.”

I sighed. “Fine. But once I get my powers back, I’m gone.”

“Yes, ma’am.” We shook on it, and we both went back into the ward. I looked at his brother in the bed, sighing.

“That your brother?” I asked, nodding to him.

”Yeah.” Sam smiled wistfully. “He’s-“

”Dean.” I grinned. “I located you two based on CCTV footage, a bit of voodoo and some hacking into federal databases.”

“That’s impressive and scary.”

“Thank you.” I smiled.

“Dean would like you a lot.” Sam smiled. “You seem a lot like him.”

“Don’t opposites attract?”

“Dean works weird, I’m afraid-“ At that moment, Dean’s heart stopped, and we stared at him in shock before I ran to the door.

“DOCTOR!” I yelled, and a doctor ran in, spotting the flatline and immediately calling his team, trying whatever they could to bring Dean back. Sam involuntarily gripped my hand, and I let him, stroking his back while he held back tears. I had no connection to Dean, and I didn’t have my powers, but I could feel Sam’s pain.

I knew how it felt.

Out of nowhere, Dean’s heart started beating again, making me wonder something. I turned to Sam, thinking. “You know, there’s a chance that Dean’s here.”

“He is here.”

“I mean in spirit.” I laughed. “That means that there’s one way to communicate with him.” I reached into my bag, pulling out an Ouija board.

“There’s no way you could fit that in your bag.” Sam raised an eyebrow.

“You can take a witch’s powers away, but undoing her charms after that are difficult. I made my bag have infinite storage, so I think I’ve got a gun case in here.” I peered in, “Yep, it’s there.” I set up the Ouija board, chanting under my breath. Then Sam and I put our fingers on the eyelet.

“Dean, are you in the room?” I asked, and the eyelet moved, spelling yes. I turned to Sam, breathing out. “You need to check if it’s him. It may be a wandering spirit, so ask him a question only you’d know.”��

“What was the score on my LSAT?” Sam asked, and it spelled out 174.

“That’s impressive.” I grinned, turning to him. “I got 178.”

“Even more impressive.” Sam replied, then laughed in relief. “It's good to hear from you, man. It hasn't been the same without you, Dean.”

“Dean, what are you doing?” I asked, and something was spelled out. H…U…N…T. “Is there something chasing you?”

YES.

”What is it?”

REAP.

”A reaper.” Sam deduced. “It tried to kill him. He’s… um…”

“Screwed.” I breathed.

“No. No, no, no.” He started pacing. “There has to be a way. Dad’s know what to do.”

“You mean the guy who left a while ago? We can try.” We went over to his hospital bed, but it was empty.

“Dad.” Sam whispered, running a hand through his hair. He turned to me, stammering. “We need his journal.”

We sat down on a chair beside Dean’s bed, flicking through the book. “There doesn’t seem to be anything on reapers.”

“Your dad didn’t do his homework.” I sighed.

“Tell me about it.” Sam turned to me. “D’you have any dad problems?”

“He was always out and about. I never saw him, my mother was cheating on him almost every day, and my brother…” I shook my head. “At least you and your brother seem close.”

“We weren’t for a while.” Sam shrugged. “Now we are.”

“That’s good. I’d give anything to contact my brother again.” I smiled sadly. “Now I don’t know where he is.”

“That’s rough.” He patted my shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s ok.” I flipped through the book again. “Yep, nothing. I have a book somewhere in my bag on common spirits. Reapers are one of them, because there’s at least one in every hospital or morgue.” I dug my arm elbow-deep into my bag, yanking out The Devil’s Encyclopaedia. “Here. Reapers are the lowest of the low. They alter human perception to make them see what they want to…” I stopped, feeling a coldness in the room return to warmth. “I think Dean was just here again. And if he’s hunting a reaper…”

“He knows.” Sam continued. “But we can’t help him.”

“We can protect him.” I pulled out a bag of salt, lining the edge of the room. I took out a vial of holy water, but then Sam stopped me.

“What are you doing?”

“What do you think I’m doing?”

“You’ve been a great help, Ivy, but Dean and I’s experience with witches hasn’t ended well.”

“Gee, Sam, I would risk my own survival to curse your brother. C’mon, let me do my thing.” I laughed, drawing a cross on Dean’s forehead then tapping it, and it glowed white before disappearing. I did the same above the doorframe, standing on a chair. I then hopped down, storing the protection materials. “There.”

“You’re a lifesaver, Ivonne.” Sam quickly hugged me, looking relieved. “I mean it.”

“It’s the least I can do in return for your protection.” I smiled. “I mean it.” A choking sound appeared from beside us, and we found Dean choking on the tube in his throat, awake, making Sam call for help. The doctors removed it, and examined Dean, coming back to us.

“Are you the girlfriend of the patient’s brother?” The doctor asked me since Sam had taken a moment.

“No, sadly.” I coughed, then beckoned Sam over. “What’s the news?”

“I think the patient should hear it himself.” We went into the room. “I can't explain it. The edema's vanished. The internal contusions are healed. Your vitals are good. You have some kind of angel watching over you.”

“Thanks, doc.” Dean nodded, giving the doctor the cue to leave. “So you said a Reaper was after me?”

“Yeah.” Sam nodded.

“How'd I ditch it?”

Sam chuckled. “You got me.” Dean was blank. “You really don’t remember anything?”

“No. Except this pit in my stomach. Sam, something's wrong.” Dean replied.

“It could be worse if it wasn’t for her.” I looked up from where I was awkwardly shuffling in the back of the room.

“Uh, hi.” I chuckled, raising a hand.

“Who are you?” Dean asked bluntly.

“My name’s Ivonne. I was born in Jersey, but then moved around a lot once I left home.” I introduced, folding my arms.

“How old are you?”

“26.” Dean wiggled his eyebrows at Sam, who gave him a look.

“She’s here cause she needs protecting, Dean.” Sam groaned.

“She seems perfectly capable of handling herself.” Dean countered. “She seems like a strong, beautiful lady to me.”

“Because the Devil took her powers away. She was a witch.” Sam explained. “And if the Devil took away her powers, she’s most likely on his hit list. Strength in numbers, right?”

I looked between the two nervously. “I-I can leave-“

“I wouldn’t want you to leave.” Dean grinned, looking me up and down. “Not. At. All.”

“You need to keep it in your jeans.” Sam chastised.

“I am!”

A knock sounded at the door. “How you feeling, dude?” The dad, who I found was called John, asked.

“Fine, I guess. I'm alive.” Dean replied.

“That's what matters.”

“Where were you last night?” Sam confronted, mad.

“I had some things to take care of.” John deflected.

“Well, that’s specific.”

“C’mon, Sam.” Dean sighed.

“He has a right to ask.” I cut in. “Your journal gave me the sense that you know how to hunt. Why weren’t you there for your sons?”

John looked taken aback. “I-“

“Did you go after the demon?” Sam frowned.

“No.”

“Why don’t I believe you right now?”

“Can we not fight? You know, half the time we're fighting, I don't know what we're fighting about. We're just butting heads. Sammy, I, I've made some mistakes. But I've always done the best I could. I just don't want to fight anymore, okay?”

“Dad, are you all right?” Sam looked concerned.

“Yeah. Yeah, I'm just a little tired.” John nodded. “Hey, son, would you, uh, would you mind getting me a cup of caffeine?”

”Sure.” Sam left, leaving John looking sad.

“What is it?” Dean asked.

“You know, when you were a kid, I'd come home from a hunt, and after what I'd seen, I'd be, I'd be wrecked. And you, you'd come up to me and you, you'd put your hand on my shoulder and you'd look me in the eye and you'd... You'd say ‘It's okay, Dad’.” He paused. “I’m sorry.”

“What?”

“You shouldn't have had to say that to me, I should have been saying that to you. You know, I put, I put too much on your shoulders, I made you grow up too fast. You took care of Sammy, you took care of me. You did that, and you didn't complain, not once. I just want you to know that I am so proud of you.”

“Is that you talking?”

“Yeah. Yeah, it's really me.”

“Why are you saying this stuff?”

“I want you to watch out for Sammy, okay?” I watched the interaction, feeling awkward.

“Yeah, dad, you know I will.” Dean frowned. “You're scaring me.”

“Don’t be scared, Dean.” John whispered something else in his ear, making Dean gape as John left. I walked after him, determined to find something out, but then lost me. Sam came back from getting coffee, and quickly glanced into a room, but then something made him double take and drop the cup, running to the door.

“HELP!” He screamed, and Dean came running in his hospital gown. John was on the floor, seemingly lifeless. The doctors swarmed the body, and Dean and Sam were trying to get through, but nurses held them back.

“But that’s our father!” Dean protested, but stepped back anyway. After a while of CPR, a doctor stood it up.

“I’ll call it. Time of death- 10:41am.”

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#dean winchester #dean x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #supernatural #supernatural oc #spn masterlist #spn #ivonne rainer #Spotify

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