#people in this show need to stop blaming Arthur

[needsdean]

Arthur: *gives Kara 300 chances and is kind to her*

kara: *refuses them all and treats him like shit*

Arthur: I have no choice but to declare you enemy of Camelot. I sentence you to death.

Mordred:

[marcos-scorpion]

Heyy a Charles Leclercx fem!reader request where he comes home exhausted and the reader is making him a romantic dinner he comes in while she is cooking listening to some old music and he sways her around the kitchen and then they just slowly dance around the kitchen all evening food long forgotten deeply in love with eachother thank you and love your work

il predestinato - Charles Leclerc x Reader

hihi !! so i was aiming for this to be totally fluffy, but there’s a lil angst, mostly around how this season is going for Charles and Ferrari. I really like this tbh, and although i wrote it pretty quickly, i think it’s cute! tysm for the request my lovely,, hope you like it!! requests are still open

warnings- lil sad cos of Ferrari and how they treat Charles,, mostly fluffy

w/c- 1489

——

Charles Leclerc was struggling this season. You couldn’t deny it, no matter how much you wished it wasn’t true. 

Ferrari disasterclass after Ferrari disasterclass were starting to weigh heavily on his mind. No matter how many positive interviews after less positive results he gave, how many toothy grins he shot your way after another day in the factory or on the sim, you could see how all of this was beginning to weigh on your boy. 

You knew he deserved more, every F1 fan knew he deserved more. You’d seen messages between him and Pierre, him and Max, hell even a few with Sebastian that showed that they knew he deserved more. You’d watched quietly as his brothers rallied around him, despite Arthur taking off in F2 and Lorenzo always having to dash off for meetings, his career being more demanding than people realised. You’d watched as Charles’ dreams crumbled under the pressure of the team, under the tyres of his once-beloved red car. 

He was meant to be ‘il predestinato’. The Predestined. One of the greats waiting to happen. He was meant to be fighting for that title, wheel to wheel with the Red Bull, the Mercedes, and, surprisingly, the Aston Martin. He was a front of the grid, top step of the podium driver, stuck with the team who had promised him the world, and left him to piece together the shards of the glory they had promised. 

You felt powerless in this all. A girl with a degree earned in student loans and scholarships, and no career to back it up, in a fast-paced world of the rich and important. Finding a place in Charles’ life had been difficult as it was, but you would do it all again to support him. Put your dreams of a Masters degree, and a doctorate, on hold. Sell your meagre little studio flat for the life so many dream of in Monaco. Leave family and friends behind for a world that would never quite be yours, no matter how many brands suddenly wanted to dress you for paddock appearances, no matter how much diamond jewellery Charles draped around your throat. What could a normal girl do to support someone like Charles, in a situation as delicate and important as this. 

Whatever you could. Anything you could. You celebrated his wins, commiserated and comforted after losses. Spent weekend after weekend in crowded garages, night after night holding him as his shoulders shook under the weight of everyone’s expectations, as tears ran in rivulets down his cheeks. 

Today was going to be a hard day for Charles. You had seen it in his eyes when he had left your shared apartment that morning. Another meeting with the Ferrari high-ups, another meeting where they blamed everything but themselves for the poor results ahead of the Azerbaijan Grand Prix this coming weekend. As soon as the lock clicked into place behind him, you decided you needed to do something today that could hopefully lift his mood. 

After spending most of the morning cleaning your home, washing his training gear and polishing the monitors on his sim, dusting trophies in the cabinets lining his office walls, a trip to the market began. The ingredients for Charles’ favourite food in your basket, you decided to stop and get a few more treats for him that would certainly anger his trainer. A bottle of his favourite expensive wine, pastries from the little stall he took you to the day you met, the chocolate his mum bought him after good results in kart races as a child. 

Hours later, after what felt like much longer leant over the stovetop in your kitchen, the rich smell of the sauce you were stirring filled the room, the soft sounds of Elvis crooning though the speaker settled safely on the windowsill. Charles wasn’t meant to be home until seven thirty, and it was currently just past five. Enough time to finish the sauce, lay out the good plates and light a few candles. Maybe change into something other than the pyjamas you had put on when you got back from the market. ‘Pyjamas’ being a pair of Charles’ boxers fresh out of the dryer and your faded university jumper. 

Tapping on your phone to increase the volume, you began to gently sway your hips to the intro to Suspicious Minds. So wrapped up in the music, you didn’t hear the front door click, or the bag hit the floor in the entryway. The footsteps making their way into the kitchen didn’t register, not until you felt an arm snake around your waist, palm pressed into the skin of your stomach and the waistline of the stolen underwear. 

You didn’t even flinch at the sensation on your skin, it was so familiar and comforting. Leaning back into his touch, you smiled lazily as your eyes met. 

“Hello, mon coeur.” He murmured, pressing his lips against your hair. 

Twisting in his arms, you let him fully wrap you in his embrace, feeling the tension melt away from the muscles in his back. It had been as bad a day as you’d expected, you could see the slight glisten in his eyes, the furrow in his brow. 

“Oh my darling,” you began “I take it the meeting didn’t go well?” You already knew the answer, but the tightening of his arms around your waist as he buried his face against your hair told you enough. 

You could feel his lips move against your scalp after a few moments, the words he wanted to say struggling to come out. He sighed, stepping back slightly, shifting his arms to press his hands onto your hips. “They’re blaming me. Saying I’m not working hard enough, not trying hard enough to adapt to the car. I’m going against all their plans, against how they’ve set everything out for me. As if it isn’t their bad strategy that’s fucking me over every race.” 

You suddenly felt insecure that your days-worth of work wasn’t going to help, or would even worsen his mood, that it was going against the plan designed by his team and his PT that was so clearly set out to help him be his best. 

“I-I wasn’t sure how you would be feeling, so I’ve tried to cook your favourite. But if you don’t want it, the pre-planned meal ingredients from your trainer are in the fridge. I can make that, o-or I got some pastries from that stall, the one from our first date? And some chocolate, the one your mum used to get.” You smoothed a thumb over the crease between his brows, “We can do whatever you want.”

His hands dropped from your sides, and his chin drooped towards his chest, and you began to panic more. “O-or I can call Pierre, or your brothers, and you can have a boys night, I’ll get out of your way. Whatever you need me to do.” 

His head is still down, and you’re so worried that you’ve made everything worse. But you weren’t expecting the look that you were met with when he raised his head. His eyes were shining more now, the glistening from earlier now lining his lashes with unshed tears. You weren’t expecting the sheer love that was emanating from his expression, his entire being. 

The smile he gave you could move planets, reignite the stars. Any insecurity and anxiety settled in your chest disappeared, replaced with a deep-rooted warmth. 

“Oh, my darling girl,” he sighed, “What good did I do in a past life to deserve you?” 

His arms snaked around your waist again, pulling you tight against him. He began softly swaying to the music still playing. 

“Sometimes, I think the universe made you for me. No one has ever done something so simple, yet so perfect. I think we were designed for each other mon coeur. Destiny did something right for once.” His voice was barely above a whisper. 

“You know, I used to think the nickname il predestinato was a curse. A label placed on me for such an unattainable dream. A ridiculous notion, and unexpected pressure. But I believe that I was your predestined. And you’re mine. And as long as I have you, all of those dreams are within reach again.”

The food was long forgotten, simmering away to itself, and the candles on the table would remain unlit, for tonight at least. Right now, nothing would feel better than dancing with the love of your life to the songs your parents loved too. 

And as the opening notes to Can’t Help Falling in Love With You began, and Charles reached around you to turn off the stove, twirling you to the song as he softly sang the words, you couldn’t help but agree with his sentiment.  

This love was written in the stars. Predestined. And maybe, that was all you two would ever need. 

[allzelemonz]

Lesson: Micah Bell X Male Reader

Fictober Prompt: Day 11, Humiliation Pronouns: None Mentioned, Reader referred to as ‘boy’ and ‘man’ Physical Sex: AMAB Rating: E/Smut Warnings: Kisses, smut, outdoor sex, long term humiliation, anal fingering, anal sex, top Reader and bottom Micah, established relationship, jealousy, rough sex, Bill is kind of a wingman Summary: When Micah gets too close with Dutch, you feel the need to remind him of something.

Now you have never had a problem with Micah being such a suck up to Dutch, but something about the way Dutch smiles at your sweetheart after one of his many compliments makes your eye twitch. Micah is doing his usual thing, being a massive sycophant and loitering near Dutch’s tent, and you don’t blame him. He was probably bored with you out of camp, but you’re back now and you can’t even focus on your conversation with Arthur because you’re too fixed on Micah.

He’s practically leaning on Dutch, his head tilted over with an adoring look on his face. And that would be fine. Micah is a suck up, you knew that as soon as you met him, you knew that when you got sweet on him, and you know that now. But this time, for the first time, Dutch is smiling at him. Not brushing him off, not giving him a half-annoyed thanks, but smiling broadly and looking down at your sweetheart with eyes you’ve only seen him reserve for Hosea. And Micah, the socially clueless fool that he is, doesn’t stop. He puts a hand on Dutch’s shoulder and smiles at him.

“You listenin’?” Arthur asks, his fingers snapping in front of your face.

“Uh-huh.”

Arthur sighs. “Fine, partner, we’ll talk later.”

With Arthur stalking off, Dutch’s attention wavers, favoring his son. He excuses himself from Micah and meets Arthur to talk. Micah’s eyes follow him, seeing Arthur and immediately snapping to the horses, because if Arthur’s back then you are too. For the time being, you decide to act unbothered. This is a conversation for later, a real conversation about reading body language and the difference between bootlicking and flirting, but before that you feel the need to remind Micah who he’s supposed to be such a desperate fool for.

He saunters over, the usual cocky look on his face when he wants attention. “Cowpoke.” He smiles broadly. “I missed ya.”

“Is that right, sweetheart?” You ask, your hand finding a place just above his gunbelt and pulling him closer. “You wanna prove that for me?”

And Micah, who long got over being judged for showing affection so long as it appears that he is in charge, leans in to kiss you. And you let him take the lead, you let him keep up his ruse of dominance. But tonight… tonight the whole camp is going to hear the reality, all because your dear sweetheart needs a bit of a lesson. You know you can’t just be harsh and cruel, he’d like that. Or, worse, he’d hate it too much. You could never call him pathetic or weak, or anything else he spits at others because that would actually hurt him. No, you need to poke at the shell rather than make it solidify.

First in your preparation, you visit Abigail. Handing her money and telling her about a children’s show you heard is playing in town. Because as much as you want to humiliate Micah to get the message into his thick skull, you’d rather Jack not be subject to what the adults will overhear. Cluelessly, Abigail thanks you for the money and smiles when she kneels down to tell Jack about the show.

Second, you talk to Bill. He grumbles about it, claiming that he in fact does not have a stock plié of pomade hidden in those boxes by his bedroll, but he ultimately relents when you tell him what it’s for. Fucking Micah, that’s one thing that Bill isn’t exactly keen on enough to share his pomade for, but making him look like an idiot… He hands you two full tins with a smirk on his face.

Third, you chat with Arthur and Dutch. One man, Micah can’t stand, the other he adores. Both are people that Micah would never want to know anything about his sex life. He’ll get over it of course, and you can’t count on your hand the number of times you’ve nearly been caught roughly fucking Micah out in the woods around camp. It’s best you capitalize on the opportunities rather than let them go to waste on some accident. So you make sure both of them will be in camp.

Lastly, you sweet talk Micah. You find him by the lake, whittling something to keep his hands busy. His hyper vigilance keeps him alert, hearing your footsteps early and gladly tucking away his things in favor of putting his hands on you. After all, you’ve been gone for an entire day and Micah Bell is a needy bastard. It doesn’t take much convincing to get him to walk into the woods with you. And you distract him, making sure he can’t tell how close to camp you are

“Been waitin’ all day, cowboy.” He grins, letting you push him against a tree. “Thought you was a gentleman.”

“Desperate bastard.” You mutter, pressing yourself against him.

You kiss him, more furiously than you usually might, and Micah feeds off of it. He returns it without issue, always happy to be treated rough.

“You wanna tell me what you and Dutch were talking about earlier?”

“Don’t matter…” Micah mutters, rutting into you with a half-hard dick. “I were waitin’ fer you… got bored.”

Starting gentle, you trail your hand down to palm him through his pants. He groans, pulling back from his kissing to focus on the feeling. You take the opportunity and turn rough, gripping his dick hard enough to make him whimper.

“F-Fuck…”

“You were being awfully friendly with our fearless leader, Micah.” You mutter. “He seemed to like it too, you notice that?”

“J-Just jokin’ around, sweetheart. I wouldn’t-“

He gasps as you squeeze his dick tighter.

“Just thought I’d make sure, darling.” You say, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Remind you who you’re supposed to be fawning over.”

He huffs a laugh through his strained breaths. “Shit, cowboy, by all means.”

And so the standard. You get Micah situated, his bare ass exposed as he leans against the tree and arches his back so you can stretch him out. Normally, he bites down on his hand, but you’re far too focused tonight. You press relentlessly on that spot inside of him until he cums, not stopping for a second even though your fingers burn at that point. Micah huffs and whines at the overstimulation, so you start pumping his dick to make it worse. He releases again in no time.

Then you actually fuck him. Fast, careless, enough to make him scream your name before he can muffle himself. Perfect. And by the end, Micah can hardly breathe. He shivers when you pull out, your cum dripping down his legs.

“Do me a favor, sweetheart?” You murmur, pressing light kisses to his shoulder.

He hums. “Anythin’.”

“When Dutch starts smiling at you, stop sucking up to him.”

He chuckles. “Ya jealous?”

“You wanna get fucked senseless again?”

“Not tonight…” Micah says, wincing as he stands upright. “Too sore.”

“Then do it.”

“Fine, fine, darlin’. If it makes ya feel better, I suppose I can manage.”

And when you return to camp, you make straight for your tent. Micah is exhausted enough to crash onto your bedroll and drift into a light sleep in your arms. As usual, when you wake up, Micah is sitting with something to keep him busy and waiting for you to give him attention. After a long morning kiss and a few teasing words, he leaves to stretch his legs as you go through your morning routine.

It isn’t until you sit yourself by Bill and thank him for the pomade, handing back the half tin that’s left, that you hear the commotion. Sean, of course, is the loudest of it.

“Aw, what’s that matter?” He laughs, stepping back from a glaring Micah. “Just didn’t know you’d be such a-“

“Shut yer damn mouth, cowpoke, best chose those words wisely.”

For all the effort, at least you think Micah got the message. One that will keep not only him, but the rest of camp, remembering who his sweetheart is. And even if he doesn’t connect the dots, you’ll explain it to him later. For now, the blush on his cheeks is too delightful to interrupt.

[multifandombullshitbabes]

Random Merlin Rewatch: Where a random number generator gives me a season and an episode from BBC Merlin; and then I comment on it as I go.

Today's episode: Season 4 Episode 7 - The Secret Sharer

Before I start, let me just say and I have done my uni exam and that's why I haven't been posting these even though I really wanted to. Not joking, I had to let my fingers rest 'cause I wrote all my notes and shit. It was a lot. Anyways, let's fucking do this.

LET'S GO INTRO!!!! YOUNG MAN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WOOOOOH

EWWWWW WHY IS AGRAVAINE TOUCHING MORGANA LIKE THAT I'M GONNA PUKE BRO

Damn, Morgana's eyes are so GREEN, that makeup really does it for her. Kinda funny she's wearing it to bed though. Girl.

GOOD LORD MAMA, HELLO

Agravaine needs to chill the fuck out. Every time he's on screen he gives me the ick. Ugh. Also Morgana looked so damn paranoid talking about Emrys. "He knows everything. All our plans, all our secrets." Girl.... RIP Morgana you would've loved therapy (or not).

Ohhh... interesting Morgana's reaction to Agravaine's accusation of Gaius, saying that he's the ones working with Emrys. She almost looks... hurt? Like. She really doesn't want to face the reality that Gaius exists, in the sense that she's just so hurt by everything these people that "loved" her have done. She just feels so betrayed by everyone, so hurt, so ANGRY. It's so tragic.

Oh my GOD. I NEED PEOPLE TO STOP MANIPULATING MORGANA!!! I'M SICK OF IT!!!! The way she hesitates!!! When she knows that it means that they're going to use Gaius or maybe even kill him!!! The way that she moves away from Agravaine, processing this, the way he INTERRUPTS THIS and insists, again, that it has to be Gaius, they have to do something. And for a second she almost looks so fucking scared, like!!

LOOK AT HER!!! ANOTHER PERSON THAT'S BETRAYED HER!!! SHE'S SO HURT AND SCARED!!! OH GOD HER AND ARTHUR ARE SO SIMILAR.

She even blinks her eyes after that line from Agravaine, like blinking away tears, her eyes are so shiny bro, I'm gonna cry :((. And after blinking she turns all smirky and "evil" and shit. Jesus Christ. I could write a whole thesis about Morgana and her character progression holy shit.

LET'S GO MUSICCCCCCC

AHHHHHH the iconic breakfast in bed scene!!! Yay!!!

I don't blame Arthur for spitting that out, shit looked dry as FUCK. Also there's a bunch of crumbs on the bed, Merlin, YOU'LL have to clean that up!!! Don't give yourself more work!!

"I don't know anything about Polishing." We really need more appreciation about how Bradley delivers his lines, this one is just too funny, only hearing it, bro. Also. Merlin writes Arthur's speeches. One of the best pieces of canon in my opinion. It's just so comical, for some reason. And they must be good too, 'cause no one's questioning them. It's just such a subtle way to show that Merlin IS smart. Sometimes. A little bit.

Merlin, babe, you cannot be serious. You writing the new bible or something, what the fuck is this.

"You don't have hours." Most threatening and terrifying Merlin's ever sounded. Arthur's better than me, I would've have an anxiety attack so bad it'd send me straight to hell.

THIS INTRO IS EVERYTHING!!! WHY ARE THEY SAYING THINGS SO PERFECTLY SILLY!! I LOVE IT!!! Also, damn, Arthur's BUSY. I guess we do forget that kings had to, y'know. Do basically everything, like be a judge sometimes. Hello??

Ah yes, what I've been waiting for: the wrestling Arthur out of the bed scene. Love it. No notes, really.

"You're doing very well, Arthur." WHAT IF I CRY???

"I don't think so."???? ARTHUR WHAT IF I SMACK SOME SENSE INTO YOU, SHUT UP!!! YOU'RE DOING PRETTY GREAT IN MY OPINION, LISTEN TO YOUR MANSERVANT FOR ONCE.

A tiny bit of appreciation for Arthur's chest hair.

Thank you.

Love that Agravaine just. Ignores that it's Merlin writing Arthur's shit. He must have gotten such a shock right at the start and now nothing's surprising anymore.

The fact that Morgana, all in black, has a white horse is so fucking cool to me. Work that shit, queen.

OK GORGEOUS?????

Hate the way Agravaine speaks. Shut the FUCK UP.

Arthur. Arthur, honey. Yeah, you've got to stop being so easy to manipulate. I know it's hard, but your uncle is so fucking obvious doing it, please, please, just. Please. Holy shit.

Morgana's dress (cloak?? hood?? idk) is so pretty.

Morgana being the last of her kind, High Priestess of the Triple Goddess. Merlin being the last Dragonlord. Something something...

Also. Some obvious orientalism is this episode. Kinda icky, but unsurprising giving it's BBC and also like. 2011 or whatever. But still. Ugh.

Welp. Welp, welp. Can't really say much about that, can I??

I can't remember, but I'm assuming that bracelet she gives to the Catha is from Morgause, simply by the look of pain in her face when it's out of her grasp. Literally, when will my wife's suffering end?

I wonder just how many different kinds of magic beings and users there are in JUST the five kingdoms. What about the rest of the world?? Like. that's just so cool!! I love world building, maybe one day I'll waste away some days just building up lore and lore, probably some made up, but mostly from all cultures and countries. That would be cool as fuck actually.

Agravaine's smile is so FAKE, FUCK OFFFFFFF

Ew, why does he just touch everybody. Weird uncle vibes, for sure.

Oh, I just don't like how Arthur's so quiet. I bet Agravaine's just gotten in his head so bad. He already looks ready to cry, like Gaius has already betrayed him. He's so used to that, what's one more?

Jesus, this hurts to watch. The fact that Gaius knows exactly what's happening, and he's trying to be as truthful as he can but Agravaine's just. making it all worse and horrible. This is so bad.

Ok, Gaius, I know you're better at lying than this. Fucking damnit.

EW. Agravaine's little smirk?? What the fuck is wrong with him? Jesus, I feel so sick watching this, knowing that he's just basically sentenced Gaius as a liar!! Fuck!!!

Well, at least Arthur noticed that Agravaine was being a fucking bitch. Not all is lost.

"... we might find some (proof)." Oh, ok, so you're just admitting that you're going to fabricated evidence against Gaius? Oh ok.

JESUS THESE MAN'S TITTIES ARE JIGGLING GOOD LORD

OH MY GOD, NOT THE PECS FLEXING??? I'm assuming normally you don't see that when you're on a horse adjusting yourself 'cause you got clothes on but this guy DOESN'T and you can SEE EVERYTHING.

The way that Merlin opens the door is so funny. He is NOT amused to be called upon by Agravaine. Mood.

Why is Agravaine's smile literally so disgusting, I cannot.

EWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW WHY DOES HE SMILE SO MUCH???? VERY MUCH WEIRD UNCLE VIBES. VERY MUCH "PUT SOME CLOTHES ON, YOUR UNCLE'S COMING." VIBES. EW. EW EW EWWWW

Love seeing Agravaine getting humbled, thank you big titty man.

Really? Really??? A book boldly proclaiming that it's about magic and sorcery, kinda hidden by one (1) sheet of paper as your proof? Really??? Are you for real right now?? Fuck off.

It is actually so upsetting seeing Agravaine in Merlin and Gaius's space. Like that's not for you, disgusting bitch.

Not Merlin finishing polishing the dagger and setting it on Arthur's nightstand JUST as the warning bells start to sound. Lol. Lmao even.

OH MY GOD THEY'RE DESTROYING GAIUS' SHIT??? WHAT THE FUCK

No no no. I hate this. The fact that Merlin now get's why Agravaine made him polish that dagger. He's fucking blaming himself right away, oh I can't do this.

Merlin literally looks like a baby in this shot, holy shit. My baby :(((.

Agravaine's acting (not the actor's, is the actor acting the character acting!! which is so fucking cool) is so fucking annoying. It's so obvious, dammit, Arthur, you're a king, how can you not see it!!! I know he's family, but you barely know him!!! I know he's from your mother's side and you want THAT side to be good unlike your father's side that's brought you so much pain, I know, but come ON!!!

Oh, Merlin's so mad, not at Arthur, at Agravaine and himself, but he's so hurt, so scared, so pained that it comes across as quietly, restrained angry, and it's fucking heart breaking.

Oh god. This is one of their most painful fights in my opinion. I think they get so fucking heart breaking when it's Merlin just. trying to show his side, trying to get Arthur to understand but Arthur just cannot because he's been given a certain information that WOULD make his actions sensible, but WE know they're lies!!! We do, Merlin does, but he can't just say that 'cause it might reveal HIS lie, and it's just UGH!!!!!!!!!! FUCK

MERLIN IS FUCKING TEARING UP I CAN'T. "He would not leave without saying goodbye to me." I AM GOING TO PUKE.

The way Merlin turns away when he's close to crying, ohhhhh. Oh BBC Merlin writers when I catch you. Colin Morgan when I catch you.

"I don't wanna lose another friend." I think these are the moments that really make me wanna chortle Arthur. I truly feel like he cannot understand the depth of the power that he has compared to Merlin. 'Cause what does that threat mean? Just them stop being friends but Merlin's still employed? Arthur sacking Merlin? Arthur treating Merlin how he's treating Gaius right now? Because, truthfully, with the power that Arthur has, any of these options is viable. I think this is what scares me, Arthur just cannot comprehend that he just cannot threaten his friends, his loved ones, like this just because he's king now. He simply cannot. The weight of it is different. Even if he would never hurt them, it doesn't matter, he has the POWER to. That's what's so scary. And then he wonders why Merlin doesn't tell him things. How can he?

The way things just. Change between the early seasons and now. The way Gaius talks to Morgana, knowing she wants to kill him, when he saw her grow up. I'm gonna be so fucking sick, y'all, what the fuck.

Does she braid some of her hair with leaves?? Or a green ribbon? What is that in her hair??

Not gonna lie, Morgana is so hot in this scene. Jesus. Love that voice, and that's all I'm gonna say.

HE LOOKS SO BABY!!!!!!!!!!1

I love that Gwen doesn't even question that Agravaine's behind it. She's like "I'll use my charms to get Arthur to see reason, don't worry bestie."

ICONICCCC GAIUS USING MAGIC!!!!!!!!

Oh, I love when Merlin doesn't even use words. Just golden eyes and BOOM. Magic.

MERLIN FOR FUCK'S SAKE BRO YOU CAN'T EVEN SNEAK OUT CORRECTLY WHAT THE FUCK!!!!!!!!!! That's so fucking funny though, I'm losing it-

GWAINE!!!! MY BABY!!! You look like a puppy :,).

Oop. Cock blocked.

Merlin is just in a fucking mood and honestly he deserves to be. But it is interesting how differently he acted with Gwaine and Gwen. I wonder if he's being shorter with Gwaine 'cause he's a knight now, and he knows that knights talk and are closer to the king's views than the servants. Classic class division and such, even if Gwaine is not like other knights. He just cannot be sure now. Also 'cause he almost got found out my Agravaine which does not good for your nerves I bet.

WOW. Gwaine, baby, STAND UP. Get some self-respect. Good god. At Merlin's back and call, it's really ridiculous bro.

Immediately on a secret mission, love these boys.

Not Agravaine seeing his plans fall apart, GET REKT LOSER.

I wonder if Morgana's a good cook. I think she isn't actually. Just never gets recipes right. Burns things, undercooks others.

Oh, poor Gaius... he really tried to fight it but...

It's really fun watching the series and recognizing common clips used in edits.

The way Gaius speaks about Merlin with such wonder and pride... crying rn.

LMAO NOT MERLIN JUST COMPLETELY TRIPPING BOTH OF THE GUY'S FEET. ALSO THE WAY THE CATH TURNED??? HELLO??? HE LOOKED LIKE A SQUIRREL.

"We should split up." "Yeah." two dumb bitches saying "exactlyyyy"

"If you find him, don't wait for me." Gwaine IMMEDIATELY disagreed with that, Merlin dearest, he's not gonna let that happen.

Oh my god, Morgana hasn't met Gwaine yet. All she knows, from Agravaine, is that he's a "hothead". Lmao. lol even.

I love how Agravaine, literal dagger to Gaius' neck, is disagreeing with Gwaine's very keen observation, that he's the kidnapper and traitor. Girl, shut the fuck up.

Gwaine is so handsome. Also, yes, not completely stupid because, if Agravaine didn't kidnap Gaius, how did he know where he was, hm?? Bitchass.

Jesus. Credit when credit's due, he can be a good liar. Also, I feel like Gwaine's acting like he believes Agravaine's innocent, mainly because he can sense something fishy about him. His question, "So you agree he was abducted then?" is so SMART. 'Cause what else can Agravaine do but agree and declare Gaius an innocent man? Yeah that's fucking right, bitch.

Morgana is literally so hot and tragic when evil, good lord.

UGH, Morgana using magic without words, YES!!! Love her being powerful.

Face card never declines for either one of them, good god. Y'know what, more and more I understand Mergana. Just. Look at them!!!

OH THE WAY MERLIN KNOWS THAT ALATOR KNOWS HE'S EMRYS. OH MY GOD?????

Oh jesus, the way Morgana's just RELIEVED to finally know who Emrys is, she's so scared of him she just doesn't want to be scared anymore. Her voice is so soft here :(.

HOLY FUCKING SHIT HE YEETED THE FUCK OUT OF MORGANA WHAT THE FUCK, WOAH!!!!!!!!1

Oh wow that scene just gave me chills, holy shit holy shit. The way Alator just kneels and allies himself to Merlin. Jesus Christ, that's my drug bro.

Gwaine and Arthur interacting. Gwaine being so soft about Gaius, so worried :(. Arthur too :(((.

I really do love how royals just think the servants can't fucking hear. Gwen is right there as they speak very sensitive matters. Like bitch?? They have ears I promise??

The way Gaius and Merlin communicate their fears and anxieties :((( I'm so emotional bro.

"My worry is Arthur." and THOSE are your loyalties, while Alator and other's loyalties are to YOU, Merlin, 'cause you're supposed to bring forth Albion, but you're too busy having a fucking CRUSH TO DO IT!!!!!!!!!!

Oh, the way Arthur walks into the room and Merlin cannot even BEAR to look at him. He's HURT. As is his right.

The way Merlin immediately lightens the mood, 'cause he wants things to be easy as possible, even if it gets hurts swept under the rug like this. UGH. AGHHHHHHHHH.

Boys. Stop eye fucking. You're supposed to at least be a little mad at him, Merlin, you kinda deserve that, y'know.

Love that Arthur believes without a doubt that Gaius withstood torture for him and Camelot and won. Like. He truly sees Gaius as this strong figure. Just always there since he was born, bro. Even before, while he was being made!! That's bonkers.

I love how Arthur understood Gaius' lied even though Agravaine talks in the "evil manipulative guy" voice all the time. Fuck off bro, I swear.

The Gaius is trying to teach Arthur to understand the complexities of magic, that it's all evil or all good, it's all different. I love this scene so much.

Pretty boy.

And that is it!!! God, what an episode!! I feel like this episode is a good starting point for a show rewrite, in which Arthur gets more and more curious about magic and tries to understand, and maybe we'd get a magic reveal and shit like. I like that a lot.

[effervescentdragon]

charlos and pirate AU

"This is preposterous! I demand to speak with someone, you cannot treat us this way -"

The latch opens in the middle of Charles' diatribe, and the force with which a man - a pirate, not a man, a pirate - jumps down the stairs from the deck shuts Charles up pretty conclusively. The pirate is wearing a red bandana on his head, and Charles cannot see his face clearly. What he can see, though, are the pirate's arms, tanned skin glistening with sea-water and sweat as the strong muscles ripple underneath. Charles is distracted - and it is expected, really, he hasn't eaten properly for days, ever since they were captured. He gave most of his food to Arthur, who was still weak and ill. His fever had passed before the pirates attacked them, but Charles was unwilling to risk the return of his illness, so he made sure Arthur ate a big part of Charles' share, too, just in case. He is sleeping, now, and has been through Charles' yelling obscenities and everything he coyld think of, though Charles isn't sure how he managed. Perhaps he was weaker than Charles though? Charles is so distracted by his thought, and by the effortless, decisive way the pirate moves, his strength evident just in the way he walks, that he doesn't realize that the pirate is inside his cell until he finds himself face to face with him.

He is - beautiful, Charles thinks. His face is comely handsome, and his skin is dark, darker than Charles', both in the typical way of the Spainards and probably even darker due to being exposed to the elements. His rolled up sleeves show arms which are strong and covered with dark hair, his muscles showing, and his hands are large, obviously the hands of someone who knows how to use them. The same dark hair peaks from where the shirt on his chest doesn't quite cover his skin. He radiates calm, even though his full lips are turned in a frown, and Charles gets distracted by the way he smells, standing so close Charles can decipher the smell of the ocean, and of something wooden, something steady and durable underneath the smell of sweat. Charles should be repulsed, really. He should be trying to move away from the man who is standing so close, Charles can almost touch him.

Charles is mostly confused. He is also perhaps somewhat aroused.

"You need to stop yelling," the man - pirate, he is a pirate and a scoundrel - says, and the words curl around his tongue and come out of his full mouth accented in a way that makes Charles a bit weak in the knees. "Everyone can hear you on the deck, cariño."

Charles does not speak the Spanish tongue, but he is pretty sure that was not an insult. He licks his lips, cracked and dry from the salt and the heat, and wishes he hadn't taken off his coat and given it to Arthur in the other cell as another blanket, for it left him standing in just his thin, white shirt that showed his every movement and his every shallow breath.

"That was the point," he manages to say. "My brother is still sick, and I do not understand why we are being held here alone."

The man's eyes flash, and Charles will blame his addled mind and the stress of the situation for thinking they look the most fetching shade of brown, and soulful, and like eyes that poetry should be written about.

"You need to be quiet now, cariño. We have a trade to make with some, ay, que estoy haciendo, joder," the man cuts himself off in obvious frustration. He closes his eyes and breathes deeply, and Charles can't help but let his eyes fall on the sliver of skin in between his collarbones. "The people that will come onboard are not nice people, and they can not know you are here."

Charles huffs incredulously.

"Not nice people? Interesting words, coming from a pirate."

The man steps closer quicker than Charles can gather his bearing, and as he steps backwards instinctively, he hits the bars of his cell. The man comes even closer, and Charles' breath hitches, for they are almost, but not quite touching. He can still feel the heat radiating from the pirate, and smell the ocean on him, and his head spins a little.

"These men are not good, cariño," the pirate says in a low voice that makes something in the pit of Charles' stomach awaken. "If they knew you were here, they would not hesitate to take a beautiful thing as you by force, and they would surely harm both you and your brother."

Charles' first thought is Nobody can harm Arthur. He keeps that one for himself. The second thought, sadly, he does not manage to keep behind his teeth.

"You think I am beautiful?" he asks, then bites his lip hard, because what a foolish question! What a fool he is! It does not matter, what thus ruggedly handsome man - pirate, he is a fucking pirate - thinks about Charles, it only matters what he will do to - with, with him.

The man's eyes flash once more just as Charles feels his lip break, the skin too abused not to yield to the pressure. He feels the trickle of blood falling, and his tongue darts out to lick it off just as the pirate raises his finger to Charles' lip.

Charles tastes the pirate's skin with his tongue as they meet in the middle. It tastes like salt and Charles' own blood.

The pirate's eyes darken. Charles shivers, and grabs onto the bars for support.

"You are very beautiful," the man whispers, like he is imparting a tremenduous secret to Charles. "But I would also love you to stay alive. And to not make problems for us."

The stale air below the deck has never felt as opressive, or as animate as it did to Charles then. He sucks in a breath, and his lips touch the man's finger again. They are both breathing heavily, and Charles is clutching onto the bars so that he doesn't do something foolish, something forbidden and unholy, something that is, if the look in pirate's eyes is anything to go by, not unwelcome. The moments pass in a stalemate, before the man exhales sharply and lowers his head a bit, shaking it as if to shake himself from a temporary madness.

"You will be the death of me, Charles Leclerc," he says softly and pulls himself away. Charles is frozen in place, his heart beating traitorously fast, and the man is already out of his cell when he comes to whatever senses he has left.

"Wait!" he calls to him, and the man turns around. "What is your name?"

The man - pirate, he is a pirate - pauses, and seems to be debating something with himself. He finally shrugs.

"Carlos," he says. "My name is Carlos."

"Carlos," Charles repeats in a breathless whisper. "It is a lovely name."

"Just like yours," the man remarks, and a smile he gives Charles takes all the breath he has left in his lungs away. "Be quiet, please," he repeats, and Charles nods wordlessly. Before he can blink, the man is already running up the stairs and back onto the deck, and Charles is left trying to calm down his racing heart in the silence.

"Well, brother, you sure as fuck know how to pick them."

The words, more amused than reproachful, break the silence, and Charles yelps, then lets himself fall down on his ass.

"Shut the fuck up, Arthur," he says weakly, and listens to his brother chuckle softly, and thinks about how they will get out of this, and how worried Lolo must be, and the way the pirate - Carlos, his name is Carlos - said his name like a caress, and how his skin tasted for that brief moment on Charles' tongue, and whether he will get the chance to taste Carlos' skin, or his lips, ever again.

[loudblonde]

Simon "Ghost" Riley X Male!Reader Mafia AU (Chapter Fourteen)

Summary: (Y/N) can't sleep as thoughts of his current situation and past haunts him. Simon gets a rare glimpse at a man who wants to feel love but is too afraid of appearing weak ever to seek it out.

Warnings: Panic attack, dehumanisation, past trauma

Author note:

This is a bit short, but my mental energy is very low and between stopping addiction, work and having to settle into a new kitchen there just isn't a lot of energy. But I am so thankful for everyone who continue to read this fic and for all the patience. My wrist is currently a lot better but I have a lot more work then usually in July, summer time in a small vacation city is just like that.

Anyway, enough about me, this will depict a panic attack so be warned, skip ahead to the first (Nickname) if you need to skip the panic attack.

Word count: 1,1K

(Y/N) considered himself a strong man. He had to be. After all, his training and upbringing only created strong soldiers. Even if it didn’t always feel like it.

Yet here he was, staring up into the ceiling of the bunker, unable to sleep. His new toy, because Simon was definitely nothing else than a toy for his amusement, no matter what momentarily sentimental bullshit he may have thought, was sleeping next to him. A small scowl made itself known.

It had already been 3 hours since they had gone to bed. It wasn’t as though he couldn’t just up and leave, Simon had no way to demand him be in the bed. (Y/N) was the boss and as his father had said, Ghost is nothing more than a dog trying to please its owners by performing tricks or protecting them. His father had seemed sad about it, almost. Whatever truly went down, Simon hadn’t been able to handle it at the time. (Y/N) didn’t know whether to blame his father or fall back on his mother's teachings of Simon simply being weak while hiding behind a mask like a smoke screen, instead of facing the enemy. Considering her name and tendency to poison people, the older he got the more and more her teachings stopped making sense.

(Y/N)’s whole sense of self was falling apart rapidly. He pretended to be strong, to not be affected by both the trauma and having to figure everything out on his own. He was a strange man in a strange land, having to rework his whole identity from being a cold-hearted emotionless killer into… running a mafia? Could he even do it? Was there anything left for him in England the further they went along?

(Y/N) didn’t know and he couldn’t just lay here, he was getting restless. With slow and calculated precision, he pulled away from Simon and replaced himself with a pillow that Simon happily snuggled into. A small smile graced his lips for a second before he shook his head.

(Y/N) sighed softly as he left the room. It was still morning, he couldn’t sleep, he had stayed awake with thoughts swirling around his head. Arthur would still be asleep, so (Y/N) simply went into the gym.

His routine was memorised. A mixture of strength, agility and speed. (Y/N)’s thoughts were too much so he set up the training dummies. With the help of classical music in the background, courtesy of his mother's obsession with it, he started retraining different kicks, take-down methods, punches and overall just assaulting the dummies as his thoughts ran rampant.

Each kick, punch or slash was more powerful than the last. (Y/N) didn’t realise he was screaming himself hoarse before he felt two arms wrap around him. His whole body shook as he turned around and glanced up at Simon, who just looked concerned and worried. (Y/N) placed his hands on Simon’s chest as he kept shaking. His whole body was screaming to run, to not show weakness, but he couldn’t, he had held on for too long, been too strong, not let anyone see that his training hadn’t actually left him without feelings.

(Y/N) felt dizzy and lightheaded, his whole body screamed even louder or… was that himself screaming?

“-reath-” Simon was talking. (Y/N) looked up again with blurry eyes, he couldn’t make out anything but Simon’s eyes. (Y/N) really liked those eyes, not that he would admit it. Black dots started dancing at the corners of his eyes. “Breath!” It came much clearer.

(Y/N) glanced down confused. His lips parted and he took a deep breath. His lungs hurt as air was forced into them again, all his senses were going haywire. Someone turned the music off. His senses reeled back in as he leaned his head on Simon’s chest. His breathing began matching Simon’s.

“(Nickname)?” Simon asked, his voice a gentle reminder of safer times. He was met with a hum of recognition from (Y/N), the only thing he could think of. Simon’s cologne still clung to him, (Y/N) really enjoyed it.

“Are you back with me?” Simon asked, his voice bringing (Y/N) back even more.

“Keep talking.” (Y/N) mutters after a few minutes, his whole world is slowly crumbling in his hands.

Simon was silent for a moment before he began talking. “When I was younger my mother would always tell me shitty jokes. My father was terrible so to cheer me up she would tell me bad dad jokes.” Simon chuckled gently. “What did the evil chicken lay? Deviled eggs.” Ghost said. (Y/N) smiled a bit. “What do you call an alligator in a vest? An investigator.” This caused a small chuckle from (Y/N).

“Don’t flail me for this. What do pussy and mafia have in common?” Simon asked, (Y/N) looked up confused though intrigued. “It’s a lot more fun if you’re on the inside.” This drew a snort from (Y/N).

“A little mafia humour?” Simon said.

“Very little.”

“Another?” Simon asked, causing (Y/N) to nod.

(Y/N) was feeling a lot more centred and grounded. His mind was still a mess of things, but this was comforting.

“Two mafia members are walking through the woods late at night. One turns to the other and says, ‘I am going, to be honest, this place is scaring the shit out of me.’ and the other turns to the first with a smile, ‘How do you think I feel? I have to walk back alone!’.” Both men share a chuckle.

“Si, these are absolutely terrible.” (Y/N) said, finally calm from his near panic attack. He hadn’t wanted it to happen in the first place, but here they were… Simon had comforted him from a panic attack really simply. (Y/N) hated how good Simon made him feel. How easily he got under his skin. It felt like Simon belonged and (Y/N) couldn’t have that. Simon was a weakness and (Y/N) was addicted. He needed to stop this infatuation before it grew out of control.

So, (Y/N) pushed away from Simon and took a deep breath. “Thank you, for your help.” Okay, maybe he still needed to work on it.

The way he saw Simon genuinely smile, it almost reached his eyes. Simon was finding happiness with (Y/N). It broke his heart knowing that he would one day have to abandon him, for both their goods. Simon couldn’t have his heart in his work, not even as (Y/N)’s bodyguard, it would compromise them both. It was a danger. A danger that would not be worth the trouble. (Y/N) didn’t want to kill him, he couldn’t make himself do it, not even all the promises of loyalty.

Simon needed to not be Simon, he needed to be Ghost again, in (Y/N)’s mind. He needed to be nothing more than a weapon and a meatshield again. It would break them both a thousand times over, but he was more than ready for it.

Tag list

@one-green-frog @rasberry-jupiter

[evita-shelby]

Incantatrice

Chapter 15

Cw: the usual shit like mentioned murders, some slut shaming, etc

Gif by @eyemarchshelby

Taglist: @thegreatdragonfruta @zablife @babayaga67 @wandawiccan60 @call-sign-shark

While Luca coordinates the murder of the Shelby who started this, Eva decides to meet the woman at the center of it all: Elizabeth Stark.

“Did he ever give you the ring?” Eva asks as the woman aims a gun at the stranger in her house.

“Who are you, how did you get in here?” She asks knowing damn well what she means and yet hoping it is not the case.

“Not here to kill you, as much as they blame you for his death, it wasn’t entirely your fault I suppose.” The witch raised her hands to show she was unarmed ---not that she needed a weapon in her hands to do so if she changed her mind--- and the woman drops her weapon.

“I didn’t want him to die, we were supposed to run away to New York, but ---” Lizzie Stark can’t even say it.

But they own me.

He owns me.

Women once hired and had by a gangster cease to belong to themselves and become his.

Lizzie had only changed hands from John to Tommy Shelby the moment she agreed to be his secretary and personal whore.

“Oh, I know, he owns you. But that’s not the whole of it, I know that with just a snap of his fingers Thomas Shelby had you on your knees for him even that night before the wedding. Didn’t matter he had a wife; it wasn’t like she existed to be anything but a pretty trophy.

If he took you away, Angel had hoped you would forget Thomas, but you just had to tell him you were leaving. You wanted him to stop you.”

It is a low blow, but Eva doesn’t care.

She needs her guilt to drive a wedge between Shelby and his family.

Lizzie was more loyal to him than his aunt and brothers combined.

If Lizzie faltered, Shelby would have no one to turn to.

“I, I—” Lizzie, a woman who life made strong as steel, crumpled like a flower. “I didn’t know John would attack him. I didn’t know he would have him killed like that!”

Guilt is such a powerful tool.

“He has a wife.” Lizzie says as she sits herself in his old office and both act as if nothing is going on. “She is a witch like Polly.”

They were here waiting for the others.

No one save Ada, Arthur, Finn, and Michael had come home.

Linda had gone to her old house, locked the door behind them and said she’d be damned if her baby boy must pay for their sins.

“And you want me to believe you?” Thomas asked sarcastically. While he treaded with care about this side of things, he knew most witches were frauds.

This is not the case.

“She knew we fucked the night before your wedding. That you told me that the Grace you were marrying felt like pretty trophy to you.” This catches his attention, blue eyes narrowing in fear.

Even if they killed the Italians, one curse was enough to make sure they follow them to hell right after.

Thomas’ mother had laid a curse on the woman who called the parish on Polly and took her children, the woman choked on the body of Christ the following Sunday and dropped dead right there on the church.

Then people knew not to fuck with a Shelby.

“What did she want?” he asks knowing he won’t trust her with the answer she gives him.

How could you let him, I wanted out of this hell, Tommy! She remembers screaming at him when Angel’s mother called from the hospital to tell her what John did.

And then he told her he had killed Angel. That he himself had put a pillow over his face because it was his fault Grace was dead.

And somehow that pain, that blood in his hands led to them fucking like animals in the bed once occupied by the wife he never even knew.

“To present different terms. Luca and his mother want all of you gone, but she knows the vendetta can end if just the ones with blood on their hands are dead. That there was no need for anyone else to die, which is why she had the Macmillan’s take Charlie from you.”

Tell him it was me, she said fixing her red lipstick as she left.

“Nothing else?” he asks, thinking she is lying to him.

He won’t believe you, but oh well, Miss Stark, the witch had said.

Thomas trusted her with everything except his head and heart.

Grace, not the one he married, but the lying rat from the Garrison, he had trusted with his head and heart.

“No.”

“I was thinking, Maga we need a bambino to name after my brother. A little Angelo or Angelina to remember him by.” Luca said as they enjoyed the great start the vendetta had had.

It is Christmas morning when the first body falls.

Lizzie was not believed, and Tommy Shelby’s paranoia isolated him from everyone, Polly assumed she had fooled them and would learn the hard way no one lied to them and lived and soon all this would be over.

Thomas would have killed Michael anyways, better them than him, the witch supposed.

Esme Shelby would take the children and leave for France, Linda Shelby would not need much encouragement to leave England with her sweet baby boy and Finn Shelby, well, he may try but he has no taste for this sort of life.

Ada Thorne and her son would have to die as well if she doesn’t know what’s good for her. Change her name, move to some nice Jewish Neighborhood, marry a nice Jewish man, and forget she was ever a Shelby.

“Maybe, once this is over. Spring is a perfectly good time to give our new kingdom another little princess. Angela Lucia, what do you think?” she asks as she drinks in the sight below her window, while Small Heath reminded her of the less than picturesque parts of Mexico City, this would be theirs.

No more biting her tongue, no more being the quiet and well-mannered lady who is fine with not being the queen of the land.

Even her card has changed.

It was not the High Priestess anymore.

Eva had become the Empress.

And every empress needs an empire.

[theboludaspring]

You Can't Fight Fate

For the Cardverse week, @aphcardverse-week Day 1: You Can't Fight Fate | oracle | prophecy | "I'm not supposed to be here." AO3 link Characters: America & France (platonic). Summary:

Destruction lies ahead for the kingdom of Spades. The young king is the only one who can see it. The King of Diamonds is his only chance.

“I’m not supposed to be here.”

The room is small, dark, and gloomy. The dim candlelight is barely enough to illuminate it, so most corners remain hidden by shadows. Dust stings his nose, and the smell of wet earth in the air makes it obvious how little used it is. Surely a perfect place for clandestine meetings, just as the other king assured him.

That, however, doesn't stop Alfred's eyes from scanning every nook and cranny. He's not foolish enough to believe he's safe, no matter how much Francis smiles and assures him that it's just the two of them there.

Anyone could be watching, judging him, waiting for the perfect opportunity to deal him a killing blow. He has to be careful, as Arthur has always told him, many will try to trick him and take advantage of his inexperience and naivety. He is not a child anymore, he–

“And yet… here you are.” Francis’s silky smooth voice interrupts his thoughts, diverting his attention from the room and trapping him like a spider’s web. There’s something about this elegant man that Alfred can’t help but admire, even as he does something as simple as pouring him a glass of wine—a wine glass with gold rims and an extravagant, expensive ornament on its base.

No one would think that just a few years ago, his kingdom was the most impoverished.

“I need your help,” he admits, his voice sounding dry, immature. Not even close to the tone his host used. He hates having to be so honest with another kingdom and exposing such a weakness, but he doesn’t have many options left. “My kingdom, my people, my advisors— they all keep telling me that I must follow the path forged by the ancient kings.”

“Ah, yes.” The monarch took a sip from his own glass, and even in doing so, he seemed more elegant than Alfred could ever dream of being. He appeared so indifferent to his words, to Alfred, and it was frustrating because, in contrast, Alfred was giving him his full attention. “Your advisors, the Queen and the Jack. They are wise; perhaps you should listen to them.”

His chair hit the floor with a thud, the sound echoing in the small space.

“But I don’t want to!” Even standing there with a rude and, some would say, threatening attitude, the other blond barely looked at him, why didn’t he look at him? “If I follow their stupid advice, if I let everything continue the same, how will we ever improve?” No, that wasn’t really his concern–, “How… how will I ever stop my kingdom from falling apart? If we continue like this, if I listen to them, our only destiny will be destruction.”

“You can’t fight destiny, little king.”

The taste of blood flooded his mouth from where he was furiously biting the inside of his cheek. He had not slept properly for nights. His gift kept showing him over and over again what would happen if he did not act; it tormented him. And no one listened to him! No matter how much he insisted, how much he tried to make them understand. Yao claimed it was just nerves about his new life, and Arthur thought he just wanted to get attention, to be the imaginary hero of a made-up story. He had come here because he thought that maybe, of all people, Francis Bonnefoy would understand what his people didn't. He was supposed to. But seeing him now, barely sparing him a glance as he swirled his stupid wine around like it was the only thing that really mattered…

He was tired.

“You did it.” And it’s an accusation born of disappointment, of pain even. He hears himself sounding like the kid he assures others he’s not, and he hates it and regrets everything. Coming here, believing this would serve any purpose, opening his mouth, trusting him even a little. Yet could anyone really blame him? He had seen how the Kingdom of Diamonds changed and prospered under that man's hand, how he forced fate to mold itself into his image and ambitions, and that once inspired him. The monarch was some kind of hero, an idol, the savior that the gods had sent to Diamonds. But maybe he was wrong, maybe it was as everyone said, just a bit of luck. The man in front of him was nothing more than a—

He pauses, blinking a couple of times, unsure of what he’s seeing. In front of him, it isn’t Francis, the extravagant, relaxed and indifferent man he got to know. No. In front of him is the King of Diamonds, the one who took a nation destroyed by past wars, infertile and poor; and he forged it in the Crown of the kingdoms, the envy of every land.

He is the king that made every other monarch bow their heads, only a few years ago, completely changing the game’s field.

He smiles, but not a friendly smile; it’s the smile of a predator. For the first time, Alfred notices that danger was never hidden in the shadows, but in front of his eyes.

Alfred has his full attention for the first time, and he wants to escape from it.

“I did something like that, right?” The man keeps smiling, still sitting on that luxurious chair (or is it a throne…?), and he’s every centimeter of a king and a little bit more. He’s not like Alfred, really not, who is still trying to understand the ins and outs of this lifestyle and could maybe never understand them. It’s… amazing, and a silly part of him wants to bow his head to someone who’s without a doubt more powerful than himself.

(For now).

He doesn’t do it, he will never do it, but that silly part still exists.

“Teach me how,” he demands, asks, and begs, because he’s tired of dreaming with the fall of his kingdom, because he has seen the numbers and the threats that nobody else seems to pay attention to. Because he has begged for someone to hear him out, to stop treating him like an inexperienced kid playing to be king. And this is his opportunity, his only opportunity. “Please.”

“I could, yes,” he says, and something close to hope blooms in his chest. Something is changing the destiny that has been drawn, and the paths are opening in front of him. “but what will I get in return?”

“An ally,” he responds immediately, the only right answer. Alfred’s eyes shine, a possible future, the future he yearns for, it’s showing itself in front of his young eyes, and he knows he has to grab it with both his hands and not let go. “the strongest that you will ever have.”

Francis smiles at him.

[elisysd]

Anywhere – Rita Ora

Masterlist - Previously - Next Chapter

Some place where no one knows our name We'll find the start of something new

Charles indeed did look her up online. And he felt like falling in a rabbit hole. He started with her Wikipedia page which made him really uncomfortable now that he was thinking about it. He could have just asked her questions but when he searched her name online, her Wikipedia was the first result. He got curious, could you blame him? He then searched her on social media and discovered that she was not really active, only posting to promote the projects she was involved in. No pictures of her friends or family or her life. Absolutely nothing. Not that it surprised him, she did say that she didn’t want to expose her private life. He found also interviews on Youtube. She was fun and carefree in them, far from the image of the lost and defensive young woman that she gave him. He watched trailers of the projects she was in. Nothing else, he promised her that he was going to watch the movies with her.

Beside Spielberg’s movie, she played in a fantasy show about vampires and werewolves that he learned was incredibly popular. That was how she was discovered by a large audience. She then took part in more independent projects. Her filmography was really diversified and clever. She was never where you could expect her to be. If he had to admit, he was admirative. She was 23 and seemed to have her career under control.

“What makes you so glued at your phone? It’s been almost two hours and you barely put that thing away.” His mother scolded him.

“Maybe it’s more like a who” teased him Arthur, his younger brother.

“Oh! Did you and Marie…”

“No we didn’t. And there is no who, I’m just reading stuff online, that’s it.” Replied Charles bluntly.

The last thing he wanted was his family to imagine things.

“No need to be this defensive, I’m just teasing you.”

“Well go tease someone else.”

“Someone got up from the wrong side of the bed this morning…”

Not wanting to spend more time trying to justify himself to his brother, he went to the kitchen to help his mother. It was a beautiful Sunday afternoon and all the Leclerc family, as well as Arthur and Lorenzo, Charles older brother, girlfriends were there to enjoy a nice family lunch. His mother was occupied cutting vegetables while following both Charles and Arthur dieticians’ instructions.

“How are you darling?”

“Good. Busy.”

“You would tell me if there was someone, right?”

Charles sighed loudly. He was starting to get fed up with the innuendos.

“What is it with you all? It’s annoying. Again, there is no one. And yes, I would tell you if it was the case. But I won’t say anything because there’s nothing to say. I’m single and it’s probably going to last a while. So please can you all stop?”

“Okay, no need to take things that way… It’s just that you’re never on your phone like that when you’re with us. Excuse us to find that a little weird.”

In the meanwhile, Artur’s girlfriend Carla joined them to help them.

“I’m sorry about Arthur, he doesn't know how to keep his mouth shut at times. You’re allowed to have your private life; you don’t need to share everything with us. Sorry if it made you uncomfortable…”

“Thanks Carla, I appreciate.”

Charles liked her a lot. She was everything his brother needed. She knew how to keep Arthur under control. And they were so in love that sometimes it made Charles jealous. His brother seemed to find the way to keep a healthy and steady relationship while being away most of the time, just like Charles. How could he and Charles could not? It was a mystery to him.

“But still, I’m very curious about why you’re so much on your phone.”

“Research purposes. I started to watch movies recently, more specifically the ones nominated to the Oscars last year. I really loved Spielberg’s one so I was reading stuff online about it…”

He didn’t know how much he could say about Lyanna. She valued her privacy and maybe she didn’t want people to know that she was in Monaco, yet. He was not really lying to Carla and his mother. He was just voluntarily forgetting to mention some details.

“Oh my god! The one with Lyanna Michel? I loved it.”

“Do you know her?”

“Do I know her? She is a pretty big deal in Hollywood right now. I love her, she is one of my favorite actress. I knew her since she started in Fire and Blood, the tv show. She was amazing in it. I always knew she was going to get big.”

Well, this was a clear indication that, right now, was not an ideal moment to announce that the actress was his new neighbor. The last thing Lyanna needed was a fan to show up at her door. Even if the fan was Charles’s sister-in-law and would not cause any type of problems to Lyanna.

“So she is THAT good?”

“Charles, where have you been these last 3 years? She is almost everywhere, on cover magazines, on TV, in movies, even in the tabloids. That part is no fun. They were awful.”

Charles could have asked her what happened. Carla would have told him. But for some reasons it felt like betraying the little bit of trust he managed to build between Lyanna and him. So before being tempted to ask, he left the room.

The rest of the day passed very quickly for Charles. Between Arthur's jokes, discussions about their respective jobs and his mother's hairdressing anecdotes, he had not seen the day go by. And it was exhausted that he entered the entrance hall of his building. His mind fogged, he paid no attention to what was going on in front of him and almost collided with Lyanna who was coming out of the lift, rummaging through her handbag.

“Oh my God, Charles I’m sorry.”

“I should be the one saying that. I was not paying attention to my surroundings! That being said, we definitely should stop to meet like that.”

“Yeah, seems like déjà vu.”

“Are you okay? You seem in a rush.” He asked.

“Kind of. I wanted to visit the Jardin Exotique before they were closing for the night.”

“Right now? It’s getting dark outside, you sure you don’t want to wait for tomorrow.”

“I can’t tomorrow. I really wanted to go there tonight. And I really have to go now if I don’t want to miss the shuttle.”

“Let’s take my car. I’m coming with you. I don’t feel like letting you go on your own when the sun is starting to set. You never know what could happen.”

“You don’t have to. You seem tired, I don’t want you to feel like you have to watch me.”

“It’s no problem. And consider yourself lucky, you get to visit them with a true Monégasque.”

“Wow, I feel so special.” She quipped.

And suddenly, Charles didn’t feel tired anymore. He indicated her to follow him towards the underground garages where his Pista was parked. She didn’t say anything about the car, she just frowned before hopping in and fastened her seatbelt.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked her.

“How rich you must be to own a car like that. It must pay very well to drive car in circles.”

“I didn’t buy the car; it was a gift from the team.” He felt the need to justify himself.

She raised an eyebrow. She definitely was judging him.

“And you think it’s making it any better? How rich are you exactly? Because when I first met you, you didn’t strike me as a type who was loaded.”

“I’m doing well with my life money wise.”

“That’s exactly what someone who was really rich would say.”

“What about you, hum? You must do well too.”

“I’m okay but clearly not as much as you. So what do you do with your money?”

“I bought the apartment I’m living in. Reimburse the loan my mom got for hers, so she doesn’t have to worry about that anymore. That’s actually the first thing I did when I got my very first F1 paycheck. And then I bought cars…” he confessed.

“Oh no… you’re so cliché! That’s literally what a basic rich person would do. Don’t tell me that you also have a yacht.”

“I do have one…” he admitted.

She opened her mouth but he added quickly:

“But I didn’t buy it. It was a gift from a sponsor. It doesn’t count as an investment, right?”

She shook her head and rolled her eyes. She was laughing at him.

“Whatever you say, rich boy…”

The discussion ended there. They fell into a comfortable silence. She took the time to look at the streets of Monaco. They were busy and she could still hear the noise. She looked at the architecture of the buildings, a mix of ancient and modern, between tradition and modernity. If she turned her head towards Charles, she could see the sea. She could understand how someone could like it here. But she thought that to appreciate the city, you had to be born here. But maybe she could try to not see the negative and focus on the positive side of Monaco. After all, she made a friend here. Well, she wasn’t considering Charles as a friend yet. But with time, he could be. But time was not something she had.

They finally made it to the gardens. She got out of the car quickly and ventured in the alleys, leaving Charles behind. He didn’t mind though. He knew these gardens like the back of his hand. He watched her moving between trees and bushed. Doing weird poses, climbing on benches, jumping from ledges to ledges. She seemed to know what she was doing and why but Charles found that a little weird. He understood why she wanted to go when no one would be here. If someone was seeing this show, he would think she was mad. But Charles found that strangely cute.

“Can I ask you what you are doing or would it disturb whatever you have going on?”

She stopped and approached him. They both sat down on a bench.

“Sally, the character I’m playing in the romcom I told you about, she is so bubbly, she doesn’t care about what people might think of her, she is supposed to wear bright colors and overall, she is just a ray of sunshine. That contrasts with Nicholas, her love interest. So I was trying to see how it would feel to behave without a care in the world. That’s how I work. Some actors will spend hours breaking down their scripts at a table, I do that too, but I also try to do what the character would do. It helps me a lot to feel close to them. Usually I do that on my own.”

“She seemed to be the opposite of you.”

“She is. That’s also why I wanted to play her so badly. That’s also why I didn’t totally refuse you to come. So I could really understand her feelings.”

“And here I thought that was because you appreciate my presence… I’m hurt.”

“Sorry to disappoint”

She yawned.

“Maybe we should go back… it’s getting late and I don’t want us to be arrested for trespassing.” Charles recommended.

The drive home was silent, with Lyanna dozing in the car. Charles walked her to her front door and, before she closed the door, asked:

“I know you said you were busy tomorrow and I am too but what would you say of coming at my place tomorrow evening. We could watch one of your movie and I could start to teach you about F1? We both promised that to each other.”

“Well, I don’t know when I’ll come back from work. Between castmates and director meetings, then table read, the moment when we all read the script for the first time together you know, it tends to be really long. I don’t even know if I’ll have the time to eat, to be honest. But I’ll let you know.”

“This reminds me that I don’t have your phone number. Here’s mine, text me when you’ll know. But for your information, my door will be open if you decide to show up.”

She smiled at him while putting his number in her contacts. She gave him his phone back and told him goodnights while softly closing her door behind her.

[khaleesiofalicante]

WHAT IS THIS BULLSHIT!?

People, if you don't have anything nice to say, shut the fuck up.

You are entitled to your opinion, of course, but that doesn't mean you have the right to share it. It's an utterly hideous thing to go and spew hate on the author.

Also, to this specific person: why are you even bothering reading this fic, that's not about Malec, if Malec is all you want? That's just plain stupid.

How can you even blame a third person for 'fucking up Malec'? As if Malec aren't two people with their own wishes, dreams, fears and minds? What you are saying is that Malec are string puppets and David an evil mastermind controlling them. Ridiculous. And that says more about how you view, what I assume is your favorite pairing, than anything else.

DON'T LIKE, DON'T READ

Don't go around and spread hate and be all disrespectful towards authors. Especially Dani in this case. She's given us around

2 000 000 words

to enjoy the past two years. Did you me!? TWO MILLIONS!! That's like thirteen standard novels.

FOR FREE!

Stop being idiots and spread love instead.

Dani, you are my queen and my inspiration. I will follow you wherever you will go. ❤️

I legit teared up at this - and laughed too. Because you are insane and amazing and the best. I'm so glad I met you.

Thank you for all the love - and for always having my back.

This is for you 🖤

“Skipping the party already, Cinderella?”

David looked up at that. “No. No. Just needed some air. Sorry.”

Max nodded. 

Then he sat down on the bench. 

Not next to David. But in the corner. As far away as possible. It made David relax a little. 

It made him want to scream into the night too.

Max didn’t say anything. There was nothing but beautiful silence, and music playing in the distance. 

“I’m proud of you,” David said after a while when he could no longer bear it. 

“For what?” Max asked. 

“Everything,” David gestured behind them vaguely. “The president knows who you are.”

“That’s not the flex you think it is,” Max chuckled. “But thank you. For saying that.”

“I’m sure your parents are proud too,” David pointed out. “As are the boys.”

Because that’s what Max had always wanted. To make his family proud. 

Max just smiled. 

“And you should be proud of yourself too,” David said. 

“Because the president knows who I am?” Max grinned. 

“Among other things,” David nodded. 

Max chuckled. He cocked his head. “Are you really proud of me?”

“Of course I am,” David said. 

Max smiled. “I’m proud of you too.”

“For what?” David almost laughed. 

“For the show,” Max said. “I know you don’t watch TV much, but it’s like one of the  most popular shows ever. And you wrote it. You deserved a fucking Emmy too.”

“I didn’t write it for an Emmy,” David said. 

“Why did you write it then?” Max asked. 

David looked at his hands again. 

“Are you happy for me?” 

David looked up at that. 

“You said you’re proud of me,” Max explained. “But are you happy for me?”

“I am,” David smiled. “I truly am.”

Max hummed and looked at the lake in front of him.

“Are you happy for me?” David asked. 

“I don’t know,” Max said and looked at him. “Are you happy for yourself?”

“I don’t know,” David said too. 

“Arthur…Arthur told me that he wished you’d smile more. He doesn't like it when you're sad,” Max said quietly. “It breaks my heart that he didn’t get to see you the way I did.”

“What way is that?”

“Happy,” Max whispered. “You used to be happy.”

“I was a little sad back then too,” David reminded. “I’ve always been a little sad, I think.”

“Maybe,” Max said. “But it’s different now.”

“Different how?”

“I used to be able to make you happy back then,” Max said, his eyes on the lake. “That’s what I was proud of the most. Not this. Not the FBI or the president knowing who I am. It was that.”

[koolkat9]

Matthew's Childhood Headcanons

I've been thinking about Matt's Childhood a lot so headcanons.

He was very sickly as a child up until his , constantly catching colds and other illnesses. Francis wasn't good with dealing with illnesses leaving most of the house staff to care for little Matthew. Then Alastair showed up and took over that duty.

Though Arthur wasn't the best father until after the Revolutionary war, he still put everything on hold when Matthew got sick. Even if he was scheduled to leave, if Matt got sick, Arthur cancelled all plans a did his best to be there for him.

There was a lot of fighting between Arthur and Alastair as they tried to raise Mattie. Allie called Arthur out on his bullshit and how he couldn't leave both Matt and Al for the long periods of time like he was. Arthur chose to ignore or bite back that Allie wasn't exactly there for him when Arthur was little.

Poor Mattie hears all of this and blames himself for making his dad and uncle mad. He fails to realize there has been tension between the two for years and that it's actually Arthur's parenting that has added to the tension. But when Matthew runs away after a particularly bad fight, Arthur and Allie figure they needed to be more careful with their anger towards each other.

Mattie had always been anxious kid, made worse when Francis left and now even worse because he feels responsible for Arthur and Allie's fights. So he's always on his best behaviour, acting as the perfect son so they'll be happy and so they won't leave like Francis did

Arthur worries about how sensitive Matthew is. He reminds him of how he was as a child. A bit of a crybaby, preferring animals to people, losing himself in nature, very sensitive and wearing his heart on his sleeve. The world has broken Arthur down until he became steeled, pushing down his emotions until only anger or cockiness was left. He fears the same will happen to Matthew. He's left wondering if he should let Matthew go on like this for as long as he can or be the one to teach him how the world isn't too kind to a soft heart like his.

With Matt's Childhood trauma out of the way, let's get some more cute fluff

He loves nature and exploring the forest near his primary home. He often finds many things he finds cool and is eager to show them to Alastair and Arthur

Alastair was the one to teach Matthew to ride horses

Matthew thinks Arthur is the best storyteller. Even in his adult years.

He also loves Arthur's lullabies and sometimes, when times get rough in his adult life, he turns to Arthur and his lullabies to put him at ease.

Arthur has made him so many stuffed animals. Alfred got a few, but he was much more into the wooden toys Arthur made while Mattie took to the stuffed animals so he got a bunch. And Matthew still has almost all of them to this day.

Allie and Arthur taking Matt ice skating every winter 🥺🥺🥺

Arthur taught Matt how to knit. Though he prefers the sweaters, mitts and hats his father makes, Matthew still likes to make scarves and other little knit wear for his loved ones from time to time

As soon as Matthew hit his teens, he took over cooking because he was not about to let Allie or Arthur cook because they were both terrible. During this time, he has a bitter sweet relationship with cooking since it was something him and Francis used to do together (at this point the two hadn't made up after Francis left him), but again, his uncle and dad's terrible cooking. But also, he is able to make the recipes his own as well as make new ones.

Though he calls Alastair uncle, Matt still sees him as a father figure and in turn Allie sees him as his son. But neither say it vocally.

Matthew's favourite memory with Arthur is when he was around 7 or so physically and Arthur had taken him out for a walk in the woods nearby and stopped for a picnic lunch and some reading in a nearby clearing. They spent the whole afternoon there, just the two of them. It was one of the few times they got to do something like that just the two of them.

Matthew's favourite memory with Alastair... Hmmm that's a tough one. He has many because Allie did everything to make him smile. But if he had to choose, he'd say the day he met Alastair. It was like love at first sight but in the familial sense. Allie had found him out in the woods of what would be Nova Scotia. Mattie had wandered off from his and Francis's house and had gotten lost eventually ending up near Allie's home in the new settlement. Alastair didn't hesitate to take him in. It was nice to live with Allie, he was very hands on in dealing with Matt, letting him play in the dirt, letting the boy take him on walks in the forest and a bunch of stuff Francis didn't let him do since nature and dirt was unbecoming to him.

[lesbicosmos]

bbc merlin liveblog - s1 ep5: lancelot

damn merlin can't even do something cute and gay like forage for mushrooms without being attacked by some mythical creature smh

why did they cut lancelots hair in the later seasons, it looked so good in his first ep

people rly need to stop dying or almost dying to save merlin, no wonder the guys so traumatised

MERLIN AND LANCE ARE BESTIES ALREADY I LOVE THEM SO MUCH

*some random thing is brought up about the running of camelot* gaius: MY TIME TO SHINE HAS COME

lancelots piece of the soundtrack is actually so good

merlin using magic to forge a seal of nobility is peak "i only just met this guy but i would already do anything for him" and honestly i don't blame him

convinced anyone who enters camelot just automatically feels they would do anything for gwen and merlin (same)

lance: are you two...? merlin: *laughs in gay* no.

merlin and gwen just being like 👍😁👍 you're doing amazing sweetie!!

why is arthur and lancelots swordfight in the town so... gay

the way arthur runs is so funny im sorry

i wanna know just how much of this show is dramatic swordfights

MORGANA ABDBDVFVSHRHE

merlin looks so proud of lance im gonna CRY

MORGANA HAS THE RED DRESS ON AGAIN I MIGHT DIE

"if you had to: arthur or lancelot?" first of all merlin why do you sound like you want to choose 👀

second of all "but i don't have to and i never will" oh gwen just you wait a few seasons 😭😭

oh no the illegal plan was found out to be illegal

arthur protecting lancelot <3

"how can you trust a man who's lied to you?" THAT LINE WAS MEAN FUCK YOU WRITERS

the griffin looks so funky

the "oh shit" look on arthur's face when the spear breaks 😭

arthurs fighting faces are so funny like why does he 😗 so much

people need to start believing gaius' hypotheses more often smh

"you are the only thing i care about in all this world. i would give my life for you without a thought." GAIUS BEING MERLINS FATHER FIGURE MAKES ME CRY

why does merlin never have any armour at all when he joins arthur on missions, like he should've been injured so many times...omg is it neckerchief? is it a magic protective neckerchief

*dramatic slow mo shots of a kinda shit 2008 cgi griffin*

surely merlin knew lancelot would figure out his magic after that, merlin was yelling incantations and the lance was GLOWING 😭

scenes where arthur goes against uther are just so good

lance's theme again as he's leaving 😭😭

why does morgana have to look so ethereal in every scene she's in even if the scene isn't about her, does she know how much it kills the sapphics

[arthurmorganwateringhole]

Hey Lia, just want to stop by and say I really enjoy your blog and analyses. I have a question for you - while it's clear Arthur still loves Mary despite the passage of time, do you think he was ever attracted to Abigail? Either in a sexual sense or as a symbol of what he could do over (wrt to Eliza and Isaac). His journal shows he toyed with the idea of marrying her. While he didn't act on it I don't believe Arthur would consider marriage lightly, given his sense of loyalty.

Hey I'm sorry I took a while to answer this. I just have to put a huge disclaimer and explain why I procrastinated answering this ask and why this particular question (not your fault OP) exhausts me. So BIG disclaimer, I'm not blaming anon for a very valid question.

I first played Red Dead Redemption 1 in 2010. I've had this game seared into my brain and memory for 12 years. I actually love it more than RDR2 (despite RDR2 being the much better game) due to nostalgia and sentimental value. John was my favorite hero for a long time, and I avoided playing RDR2 because I heard about how they turned John into a deadbeat dad, and I had this impression of him from 20fucking10 that he was an amazing husband and father. I've sort of made peace with it. I love rdr2. I love Arthur more than I love John, and I appreciate John's arc in rdr2.

HOWEVER,

nothing. And I mean NOTHING can make me take any retcon or w/e seriously that detracts or devalues the bond and love between John and Abigail. They were the first real rockstar couple for me, and I'm pretty sure John and Abigail provide the blueprint you'll see for in later GTA games (I'm thinking GTA 5). I can't even take the notion of Abigail having a thing for Arthur too seriously, because to me, John and Abigail are UNSHAKEABLE. And for all the grief Arthur gives John for leaving the gang, he would never -- and I mean NEVER do that to his brother.

Okay lol now that I got that out of my system, let's go back to your question.

I consulted my friend in Arthur Morgan PhD studies @papaue00 for this. She knows by heart an interview with Roger Clark, where he confirms that there was supposed to be a storyline about a past romance between Abigail and Arthur, but it was ultimately scrapped.

So long story short, it's possible the mention of her in his journal and marriage is... probably a mistake? A part they meant to cut out but ultimately forgot or didn't, thinking it wasn't worth sacrificing everything else written in that entry just to erase a pretty valid sentiment.

I think you're right anon, that this is probably what it is: "a symbol of what he could do over" [wrt Eliza and Isaac]. He saw a mother and son in need of a man to step up as a father, and he probably considered (since he saw them as family) becoming that man out of concern for their welfare when it looked like John wasn't coming back. It's not an uncommon practice back in the day, as it was seen as a duty to fulfill, not unlike a foster-brother's version of a Levirate Marriage.

Here's a definition from Britanica:

levirate, custom or law decreeing that a widow should, or in rare cases must, marry her dead husband’s brother. The term comes from the Latin levir, meaning “husband’s brother.” The “brother” may be a biological sibling of the deceased or a person who is socially classified as such. Where the brother is required to be younger than the deceased, the custom is called the junior levirate. The levirate often co-occurs with the sororate, a practice in which a widower should or must marry his dead wife’s sister.

Often, the brother who marries his former sister-in-law is a proxy for the deceased, in which case all progeny of the new marriage are socially acknowledged as the children of the dead man. For instance, in ancient Hebrew society, the levirate served to perpetuate the line of a man who died without offspring. Likewise, among the Nuer people of South Sudan, the children of a remarried widow belong to the first husband’s line, and they consider the deceased to be their father even if the new husband is their biological genitor.

I don't believe this was practiced in any real or prominent way in the 19th century, but in ancient times, it was definitely a thing. In fiction, I know a famous example is in the HBO Western mini-series, Deadwood. The main character, Seth Bullock was in love with the widow Mrs. Garrett, but he could not marry her because he was already in a Levirate marriage where he married his dead brother's wife before coming to the Deadwood settlement.

The messiness of such a strong cultural history has marked other characters in fiction, and it often deals with themes of protecting women or providing for women who are left vulnerable due to patriarchal society.

So yes anon, in a way I agree with you or at least that's how I read Arthur's consideration of marrying Abigail. I truly believe he felt John was his brother, and it was his duty to step in for John.

[messers-moony]

Secrets | R.L

Paring: Remus Lupin X Wife!Reader

Summary: Y/n withholds her past from the Order of the Phoenix but it all comes loose after one eavesdropped conversation with Sirius.

Standing in the kitchen of Grimmauld Twelve after cleaning up dinner was always a fun experience. The Aurors finally allowed themselves to relax, even if it was just for a moment. Everyone could feel the amount of ease in the room, including the children. Harry Potter always remained grateful for these moments to relax. But he was never far from the woman who raised him, Y/n Lupin.

Remus was having an animated conversation with Sirius, Nymphadora, and Mad-Eye. Meanwhile, Molly, Arthur, Y/n, and the kids all spoke together, just joking around. Y/n couldn’t believe that Harry was fifteen. It felt like yesterday when he had gotten spit up all over her shirt while she tried to feed him. It was astonishing to watch Harry grow into the man Lily and James always wanted.

“ Professor Lupin! “ The Weasley twins called in symphony making both Lupins turn their way, “ The female Professor Lupin. “ Fred specified, and Remus chuckled.

The twins pulled her away into a secluded corner, “ Did you get them? “ George queried, and Y/n scoffed, “ Of course, I did. What do you take me for? A liar? “

“ Absolutely not! “ Fred replied, “ They’re all in your room. Make good work of those fireworks. “ Y/n whispered, and both boys were jumping with joy.

They bowed, “ Only for you, Professor. “

Both boys ran off to presumably go and check their new items. Y/n chuckled at their antics when arms wrapped around her waist. A chin was rested on her right shoulder, and the scratch of scruff tickled her jaw. Caramel-brown hair fading and flecked with grey obscured part of her vision. Two hands were rested on her waist—the left hand adoring a very familiar ring.

“ What have you given those mischievous boys? “ Remus asked, “ Nothing. I’m not quite sure what you’re on about? “ Y/n answered, turning to face her husband.

His eyebrow quirked, “ Okay, I made a trip to a particular store. I got them some fireworks. “ Y/n informed, “ Fireworks? “ Remus questioned.

“ They’re magical fireworks. “ Y/n stated, “ The boys like to experiment, so I let them have their fun. “

“ And that’s why you refuse to give them detention. “ Remus rolled his eyes, “ I do give them detention! “ Y/n exclaimed, pouting slightly.

“ I lecture them about all the things they did wrong. “ Y/n added before Remus could speak, “ And then I tell them how to do it better. “ She mumbled.

Her husband laughed, “ Oh, there's the marauder in you, my dear. “

There was a prominent silence between them before Remus spoke up again, “ Have you told Harry about your former last name? “

“ No, I haven’t. “ Y/n swallowed, “ He doesn’t need to know. “

“ I think he’d like to know. “ Remus replied as he tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, “ I think he’d like to hear all the stories about your twin brother. “

She shook her head, “ Sirius can tell him. “

“ Sirius can’t tell him everything, love. “ Remus informed sweetly, “ Only you knew James Potter since he was born. “

“ I know, I just- it’s hard. “ Y/n bit her lower lip, “ I know, darling. “ Remus responded as he pulled her lower lip from her teeth with his thumb, gently.

They stared at each other for a moment before someone interrupted, “ Y/n, I think you should talk to Sirius. “ Molly informed, and she furrowed her eyebrows, “ He showed Harry the Black Family tree. “

Molly left, and Y/n kissed her husband on the cheek, “ Talk about this later. “ Y/n whispered, leaving him.

She walked around the house. Sirius was standing in the doorway, about to close the black wooden door. Y/n only stood a couple of feet away, but he was hesitant. He didn’t want to shut the door just yet. So much history laid on the wallpaper of the room. So many awful memories. Y/n laid a hand on his shoulder gently.

“ Come on. “ Y/n beckoned as she pulled him into the room, and he shut the door behind them, “ Colloportus. “ She muttered, locking the door.

Sirius stood in front of Regulus’s name, “ Go on, speak. “ Y/n said, and Sirius sighed.

“ It was hard. Losing him, I mean. Even though we didn’t have the greatest relationship, it still felt like I should’ve been there. I should’ve protected him. He was my little brother, for Merlin’s sake. “ Sirius ranted, “ Maybe if I stayed. Maybe if I took him with me that night, this would’ve never happened.

“ Losing a brother is hard. “ Y/n began, “ It’s a pain I wouldn’t wish upon anyone, but people die. People come and go. Truth be told, there isn’t much you can do about it. “

“ My brother wouldn’t have wanted me to live my life suffering. That’s why I married Remus even if he wasn’t by my side. Even if he wasn’t the one walking me down the aisle like he promised. “ Y/n continued, and tears streamed down Sirius’ face, “ Harry still doesn’t know. “

Sirius turned faster than a threatened spider, “ What? Haven’t you told him? “

“ No. He doesn’t know. I’m Y/n Lupin to him and everyone else aside from the adults. “ She shook her head, “ To be fair, it feels nice. “

“ Call me daft, but it feels nice not to be Pity Potter anymore. It feels nice to be Professor Lupin. “ Y/n shrugged, “ You raised him, and you lied to him. “ Sirius retorted.

“ I’m not lying to him; I’m just not telling him the entire truth. “ Y/n corrected, and Sirius turned back to the family tree, “ You were never Pity Potter. “ Sirius muttered.

Y/n chuckled, “ Everyone pitied me after they died. Poor Y/n Potter. She lost her parents at seventeen, lost her brother at twenty-one, became an unexpected parent at twenty-one with her brother's son. People didn’t have to say ‘I’m sorry for your loss’ for me to see the pity in their eyes. “

“ When Regulus died, nobody even said I’m sorry. “ Sirius whispered, “ Nobody knew Regulus like you did. “ Y/n replied.

“ Regulus wasn’t meant to die. He shouldn’t have died. But he did, Sirius. “ Y/n stated, and Sirius turned to her with tear-filled eyes, “ And if your brother was anything like mine, he wouldn’t want you to sulk your entire life. He wouldn’t want you to ask yourself ‘what if’; he’d want you to live your life. “

She took steps in front of the crying man, her hands placed on his shoulders, “ Regulus Black and James Potter didn’t die because they wanted us to suffer. They died because they wanted us to live. “

“ So please. Live for them. Don’t let their death be in vain. “ Y/n said, taking Sirius in for a hug which he returned gratefully, “ Harry loves you. He likes having his godfather in his life. Live for Harry. “

Sirius nodded, and they pulled apart, “ Remus got really lucky. “

Y/n laughed, “ James used to say the same thing. “

When they left the room, it felt like time stopped. Everyone stared at them. Sirius and Y/n were given glares aside from the adults. The children looked betrayed. Harry looked almost in tears. The Weasley twins looked guilty. It seemed to freeze, and Remus looked stressed. Molly and Arthur looked disappointed in their children. Mad-Eye looked unimpressed. Nymphadora looked intrigued. Remus and Y/n exchanged looks, his saying everything– he found out.

Y/n coughed, “ Why- Why is everyone staring? “

“ You lied! “ Harry’s voice sounded heartbroken, betrayed, “ I never lied to you, Harry. I just- you never asked, and there was never a suitable time. “ Y/n tried to explain.

The extendable ear in Fred’s hand told her everything, and she took a breath, “ Harry, can we talk about this in private, please? “

Remus walked forward and took Harry from the shoulders, guiding him to their shared bedroom; once Harry was out of earshot, the Weasley twins stared at their Professor, “ I’m- I’m so sorry, Professor. We didn't- “

“ I’m not mad at you. “ Y/n interrupt, “ I’m not mad at any of you. To clear the rumors, yes, James Potter was my twin brother- “

Before Y/n could continue, Sirius interjected, “ And Y/n Lupin is one of the strongest people I’ve ever met. “

“ She has suffered a more remarkable feat than any other witch I know. Y/n was the one who found Marlene McKinnon’s family dead. She watched her best friend bleed out right in front of her eyes. “ Sirius continued, and Y/n swallowed, looking at the ground, “ She watched Frank, and Alice Longbottom get tortured to insanity. “

“ And finally Y/n suffered losing her other half, James Potter and her sister in law, Lily Evans or Lily Potter. “ Sirius put two hands on her shoulders as he stood behind her, “ So before you glare at her, understand what she’s been through. Understand that she’s been tortured, hurt, and killed in more ways than one. “

Sirius still wasn’t finished, “ Her husband is a werewolf. Her husband has hurt her before, and she bears the scars. Her brother was killed. Her brother by choice- “ Sirius chuckled before he continued, “ Was sent to Azkaban for twelve years, and someone she trusted betrayed us all. “

“ Y/n Euphemia Potter-Lupin has endured more pain than everyone in this room combined. But Y/n Euphemia Potter-Lupin is always the one holding us together, the glue to this horrid new world we live in. So please, before you glare. “ Sirius repeated, “ Understand that she’s been tortured, hurt, and killed in more ways than one. “

Hesitantly, Y/n raised her head to see everyone almost in tears. The children weren’t meant to know; they weren’t meant to hear all the suffering she’s endured. It wasn’t their time yet. But as she looked up, she saw Harry and Remus. They hadn’t entirely made it to the bedroom before Sirius began talking. Tears trailed down her husband's cheek, remembering that faithful night he had broken his vows and attacked her. She didn’t blame him.

Hermione was fully sobbing. The Weasley boys had light tears falling down their cheeks. Molly cried in Arthur’s arms while he tried withholding his tears. Nymphadora and Mad-Eye looked astonished. Ron was brought into a hug by Hermione but remained shocked. Y/n didn’t quite know what to do from here. They had just heard her entire life story.

“ I’m sorry you all had to hear that. “ Y/n chuckled, “ I didn’t know Sirius was going to give you a biography on how the first wizarding war went for me. “

She swallowed, “ I’m sorry for keeping this secret from you guys. And Harry, because I know you’re only a floor above me right now in the comfort of Remus’ arms. You need to know that I love you from the bottom of my heart. I just- I just didn’t want you to find out and get too excited. “

“ But I’m your biological Aunt. I fought Dumbledore tooth and nail to take care of you. I remember sobbing and wailing in Remus’ arms because you were right there, right in front of my face, yet I couldn’t have you. “ Y/n explained, “ Vernon and Petunia are awful people. You deserved love, and you wouldn’t have gotten it there. You would’ve been an outsider your entire life. “

Y/n was sobbing as Sirius rubbed her back, her words choked up, “ B- But, I love you, Harry James Potter. “

Harry left Remus’s arms and ran down the flight of stairs. His arms took around his Aunt. The fifteen-year-old held onto his aunt closer than he could ever imagine. Remus walked down the steps slowly to take his place beside Sirius. Harry pulled away slightly, and Y/n wiped her face. Harry’s eyes had that glint of mischief James always had, and it made her want to sob all over again, but Harry spoke before she could.

“ What was your marauder name? “

[magicbystarlight]

One For Sorrow, Two For Joy - Part Nine

Masterlist, Part One

Part Nine of Eighteen

Summary: For the last three years, you’ve been working a repetitive Ministry job and wrapped your life around an unhappy relationship. After realizing how empty your life has become, you leave everything behind and stumbles across an unlikely job for you - Office Manager for Weaselys’ Wizard Wheezes. There you wish to find something you lost in the war: hope.

Word Count: 2634

Warnings: 18+, blood. Minors DNI.

HP Tag List: @bamboozledflamplant @charmingandfantasticfics

One For Sorrow, Two For Joy Taglist: @byelannie @sugasthreedollarkookie @bethanystan @maralisa124 @confusedcrayon @ikkleroniekins

The aftermath of the article wasn't as bad as you had assumed it would be. Ginny was able to write and publish an article calling out Skeeter and her lies throughout the years with the help of her friends at the Prophet. Lee had blasted the article on his show and encouraged his listeners not to believe any of it –there was no love triangle or betrayal and you were all good friends. You and Dean had run into each other during your lunches that same day, both heading to check on the other. Even Seamus stopped by the shop and had a good laugh. A dozen or so people had either sent an owl or stopped by the shop to offer their support. Hermione had even taken some time off of work to help you with writing your own response that Witch Weekly had (under threat of a case of defamation) agreed to publish in the next issue in conjunction with a retraction from Skeeter that she had surprisingly agreed to write. She also helped you look into the legal options with Cormac's possible case against George.

There had been a few stares and whispers when people saw you, but nothing extreme. The only real negative impact had been that George had seemed to distance himself. He was barely in the office, or even at the store. And his excuses, while believable, were too convenient. Mrs. Weasley needed help de-gnoming the garden. Arthur wanted him to go on a trip to help find something. He was sick. He had to visit his aunt.

You didn't blame George for wanting the space, you had made his life pretty difficult recently, and it was what you had wanted originally. But that didn't stop the knot from forming in your stomach every time he said his hasty goodbyes.

Ginny invited you out to the Falmouth Falcons vs. Wigtown Wanderers game that Saturday since Harry wasn't able to go, though you suspected that he was perfectly able to attend. You were never coordinated enough to play Quidditch yourself, in fact, you had fallen off of so many brooms in your youth that you had sworn off flying alone, nor were you ever a super fan. Your mum, however, was and you had gone to many games together. If she knew you would one day be friends with a Holyhead Harpie, she'd have probably fainted.

"So," Ginny started after one of the Falcons' Chasers missed an easy pass, "how is George doing now that they've set a trial date?"

"They've set a trial date?" The crowd erupted in cheers as the Wanderers got the Quaffle past the opposing Keeper and through the middle post.

"Yeah, Harry said Wizengamot sent George a letter a couple days ago about it." Ginny wasn't paying attention to the action of the game, but seemingly following empty air.

He hadn't told you anything about receiving a trial date or receiving a letter from Wizengamot. "He's been pretty busy the last few days, I really haven't seen him. I'm sure he's doing just fine, though."

The match ended three hundred and twenty to one hundred and thirty in favor of the Wigtown Wanderers after their Seeker caught the Snitch. Back in your apartment, you were left wondering why George hadn't told you about the letter and trial. Did he not want you to worry? Or did he not want you involved?

That second option tightened the knot and left you unable to sleep again. You tossed and turned, contemplating whether or not you should ask him about it or wait for him to tell you. When you’d had enough of wallowing in your own self-pity, you decided to make something you probably should have made a while ago.

Following the final battle, you hadn't been able to sleep due to nightmares and paranoia. Even with the aid of Sleeping Draught, you’d wake up screaming or shooting off spells. After one particularly nasty night where you’d set Cormac on fire, you decided to mix in a few extra ingredients from the Draught of Peace when you made a new batch. It took a handful of tries, but, eventually, you got it just right. The new potion calmed the drinker before lulling them into a peaceful, dreamless sleep. You had creatively named it the Sleeping Draught of Peace.

It took a few hours to brew, not giving you a chance to use it that night, but at least you’d have some on hand for the next time. It also gave you the perfect excuse to talk to George. With all the stress, he might be having issues sleeping too. You were sure he could use a bottle or two.

At a socially acceptable time (not four-thirty in the morning when you had thought of the plan) you knocked on George's door with some of the potion. After a couple of minutes and no response, you had to debate whether or not to barge in like you had many times before. Halfway down the steps, however, George opened the door.

"Mornin'?"

You waved awkwardly, realizing he had been in the shower and you’d probably have seen him in his towel again if you had walked in. "Mornin'."

He waved you inside to your usual spot in the kitchen, where he offered you tea. "Surprised you didn't barge in on me," he said, setting down a mug in front of you. His mouth twitched into a quick smile before disappearing.

You took a sip before replying, "Didn't want anyone reading into it, in case someone was watching, you know?"

"Oh. Guess it's a good thing I got dressed before I answered the door then, eh?" he chuckled. "So what brings you by?"

The two small bottles clanked as you pulled them from your pocket and put them down next to his own cup of tea. "I've been having trouble sleeping. Figured you might be as well, so I made something that might help."

He examined the potion. "Sleeping Draught?" His voice seemed unsure, the potion being a bluer shade of purple than the typical Sleeping Draught.

"Kind of. It's my own recipe. A mix of Sleeping Draught and Draught of Peace. Mimics natural sleep a bit better."

George looked thoughtful. "So a Sleeping Draught of Peace?"

You grinned. "That's the working title, yeah."

He pushed the bottles to the side, thanking you for them. With a quick glance at his watch, he let you know he needed to head out. According to him, he had to help his mum degnome the garden. Again. Of course he did.

It was clear George was lying to you. Gnomes always wait two weeks before reinfesting gardens. It made focusing on work hard, but you pulled it together enough to finish designing the marketing material for Valentine's Day. A few deals on love potions for those wanting romance and Skiving Snackbox for those wanting chaos.

The shop floor offered some relief from your constant worries and questions. There, you could distract yourself with mindless tasks or helping customers. And when things were slow, you and Bini could talk about his upcoming trip to Bulgaria to visit one of his friends. It was going wonderfully until you saw a familiar person walking past the shop.

With a rushed apology to Bini, you followed the person down the street and around a lesser-traveled side street. "Cormac!"

He stopped and turned in surprise.

"You vile, pathetic prick. How dare you! You have no right to meddle in my life anymore!"

He gave me a smirk and crossed his arms as you approached. "He hexed me in a public place with several witnesses. It has nothing to do with you."

You scoffed. "It has everything to do with me and you know it. At least ten others did as well, but you're not filing charges against them! Just the one you're jealous of!" The one who matters the most to you. His only response was a shrug.

Your fist slammed itself into his face. It wasn't a fantastic punch, you’d never actually tried to hit anyone before, but it connected with a decent smack. Cormac hadn't expected it and had made no effort to block it. He cradled his face, blood coming out of his nose, and looked as if you had Stunned him.

"There! Now I've assaulted you in a public place, are you going to press charges against me?" He was speechless, mouth hanging open.

"If you want to try to take George on, go ahead. Just know that he won't be fighting it alone. When I give my testimony, I'll be sure to tell the truth about everything. And I mean everything, Cormac. Let's see how far your name gets you then."

You pointed at his face, his blood staining your skin. "And I swear, if you ever, ever lay a hand on me again, I'll make you miss the Carrows."

He didn't get a chance to respond as you left him in the alley and headed straight back to the shop. The adrenaline faded quickly and, oh Merlin, did your hand hurt. The reality of what you had just done set in with the pain.

How much worse had you made George's situation?

Bini was quite distressed when you returned with blood on your hand, but you didn't have time to explain more than assuring him it wasn’t yours. You needed to talk to George. He let you go, warning you that you owed him an explanation later, and you Disapparated to the Burrow. George wasn't in the garden and there were no sounds of gnomes being thrown. You scurried up to the house, calling for George. Mrs. Weasley greeted you instead.

"Is George here?" you asked breathlessly.

"No dear, he's over in Hogsmeade at the old joke shop. Are you alright? Oh my! Is that blood-"

You shook your head. "I need to talk with George. Thank you!" You Disapparated again.

Zonko's windows were still boarded up, but the door was no longer covered. "George!" you called out as you burst through it.

He was standing behind the counter when you barged in. "What are you–?

"I punched Cormac in the face!" you blurted out, holding up the hand smeared with red.

His eyebrows shot up. "You did what?"

"I was talking with Bini and I saw Cormac pass by the window, so I chased after him and confronted him about the whole trial thing and he just shrugged like it was no big deal so I punched him in the face." Your words were rushed and your hands gestured frantically. "And I also may have threatened him. And my hand really fucking hurts. And I'm so sorry!" Every time you waved your hand around it hurt more, but you couldn't stop.

George grabbed the wrist of the bloody hand gently and waved his wand over it quietly. The blood disappeared and there was instant relief. You flexed it, relishing the feeling of not being in pain.

"I need you to take a deep breath and calm down for me, okay?"

You did as he asked, breathing in and out slowly.

"Now, you punched McLaggen in the face?"

You nodded.

"And made him bleed?"

You nodded again.

He laughed, "That's bloody amazing! Oh, and you threatened him? I remember you being pretty handy with your hexes. He must be shitting his pants!" He laughed like it was the most brilliant thing in the world to have done, instead of incredibly stupid like it actually was.

"He could try to use it against you."

"I hope he does! The entire wizarding world should know that you punched the insufferable git! I only wish I'd gotten to see it!" He stared at you in amazement, running his hand through his hair. "Did he cry?"

He should have been upset, furious even, that you had possibly made life harder than it already was. But he was proud of you. He thought it was bloody amazing. "No, he just stood there with his mouth hanging open."

Cormac would be a problem for another today. For now, you could spare a few laughs at his expense. Without guilt weighing you down, you could admit that it had made you feel much better. And opened up the room to ask other questions.

"Why are you here?"

George was slow to react to the question. "Oh, um, well. It was supposed to be a surprise." He lifted his arms up and looked around at the empty shop. "We're expanding!"

"You bought Zonko's?" you asked excitedly. You’d heard rumors of him and Fred wanting to do just that back before the war, but it never came to fruition.

He wavered. "Leasing it, actually. Gringotts wants to see steady profits before they'll give me the loan." The shop had only been operating in green for a couple months now, it wasn't a surprise the bank wanted to wait.

"This is great, George!" He hadn't been avoiding you after all.

He beamed with pride as he showed you the plans he had drawn up for the layout. He walked you around the shop and pointed out where some of his favorite items used to be stocked, telling stories of his favorite pranks. He wanted to pay homage to the memories Zonko's had given him and planned to make a section dedicated to those items named Zonko's Zany Zone.

"Let me show you the best part," he said, grabbing your hand and leading you up the stairs.

Past the door at the top was a room with a window that spanned the entire wall, giving a breathtaking view of Hogwarts as it sat covered in snow. The window must have been concealed by magic on the outside, as it's location would have been impossible to miss. Caught up in the beauty, you hadn't realized that George was still holding your hand until he pulled you closer towards the window.

"Gorgeous, eh?"

"Yeah," you said softly.

"The bedroom has a magnificent view as well."

Tearing your eyes away from the window, you could see that the room was actually quite a large space with a kitchen taking up one of the walls. Two doors stood opposite of the kitchen, one presumably being a bathroom and the other the bedroom he had spoken of. "It's an apartment."

He gave me a sheepish smile. "Your apartment. That is, if you want it, of course."

"You want to give me an apartment?"

He rocked on his heels. "Yeah, I know I promised you a raise, and you are gonna get one, but with the lease payments...it's not gonna be as much as I think you deserve. And your apartment now is horribly depressing."

An offended gasp escaped your lips. "It's not depressing."

"You barely have space to move around in there. I had more space sharing a room with Fred at the Burrow than you do now. You barely even have a window!"

Maybe it was a little depressing. This place could easily fit it three times over and you hadn't even seen the bedroom yet. "Don't we need an office here?"

"There's a small one downstairs behind the counter."

You bit your lip, trying to think if there were any other objections you could throw out, but there wasn't. This place was perfect. Big, fantastic view, and free. George watched me as you walked around the space, a bit impatient for your response.

"Well?"

It was more fun to draw out the wait than to answer right away. "Well...I think," you gave an ample pause to help build the tension, "I think it's perfect. I love it."

His smile was ear to ear. Well, ear to hole.

Next

[comfortwriting]

Papa Don’t Preach - F.W

Fred Weasley x Reader, inspired by the song ‘Papa Don’t Preach’ by Madonna.

About: the reader discovers that she is carrying her boyfriends baby, the two of them decide to keep it; but the storm gets heavier when she breaks the news to her father.

Theme: fluff and angst

Warnings: teen pregnancy, mention of abortion, swearing.

Throwing up into the toilet, moaning Myrtle giggled at you and sat on the window ledge. “That’s the third time this month” 

You wiped your mouth with your sleeve and got up off your knees, flushing the loo you unlocked the door and washed your hands at the sink. “I’m aware Myrtle.” You answered, glaring at her before walking out.

You rushed into the common room, luckily the only people in there were Fred and George. They were messing around pretending to duel with their wands, little sparks hissing out the end. 

“Have you seen my bag?” you asked, searching around the room.

The boys couldn’t hear you over their loud laughter, you stood there and put your hand on your hip, glaring at your boyfriend. “Fred, please. This is important.” 

Fred and George stopped messing around and spun on their heels. 

“You okay love?” Fred asked, walking over and putting his arm around you.

You shook your head no and sighed “I just need my bag” 

George walked across the room and picked up your red toiletry bag. You quickly retrieved it, walking over to the sofa you sat down and rifled through it, flicking past your period pads and tampons you pulled out your mini calendar.

Fred and George sat down next to you, the two of them sharing looks of concern. 

You counted through the squares, week by week and flicked the page, then another. A wave of sickness and panic pooled inside of you, you put your head in your hands and shook your head.

‘I can’t be, we used a contraceptive charm... surely it worked’ you thought to yourself, your knees shaking and your stomach churning. 

“Y/N, what's going on?” George asked, his brother too worried to utter a word.

Everything started to make more sense: the persistent morning sickness, the bloating, the all-day long nausea, your weepiness and mood swings, your breasts constantly feeling tender.

“I think I’m pregnant” you choked out, swallowing hard.

Fred felt his heart sink, feeling scared and annoyed at himself for getting you into such a scary situation.

You went back into your red bag and pulled out a pregnancy test you got from the pharmacy at Christmas when you were back in muggle London.  

You stood up, putting the test up your sleeve, walking to the same bathroom, hoping Myrtle would be elsewhere harassing Harry.

“Back so soon?” Myrtle questioned you.

“Fuck off, Myrtle!” You yelled at her, losing your temper.

You walked into the empty stall, locking the door behind you. Fred waited outside as you pulled down your skirt and knickers and sat down. “Fred, put a tap on for me will you?”

Fred walked over to the sinks turning the tap on waiting for you.

You followed the test instructions and stood up, the sound of the fast flowing water made this a lot easier for you, but then again you were always needing a wee with the growing pressure on your bladder.

Flushing the toilet and putting the lid down you placed the stick on lid and walked to the tap to wash your hands. “Thanks love” you smiled at Fred.

“You know, whatever happens won’t make me run away.” Fred smiled, tucking a stray hair behind your ear. “How long do we have to wait?”

You smiled at him, drying your hands on your skirt you walked into his arms and pulled him into a tight embrace. “I’m surprised that you didn’t leg it” you joked, trying not to linger in your fear. “we’ll find out in five minutes.”

Fred stood outside the stall where the test was waiting. “Want me to get it?” He asked, pushing his hair out of his eyes.

You shook your head “it’s okay, I’ll get it.”

Walking into the stall, you creeped up on the test like it was a pest you were about to wallop. You grabbed it, your whole future, your whole worth and life would be determined by this stick.

You walked out of the stall standing next to Fred, he wrapped his arm around you. You took me a deep breath and turned the test over so it was facing you. Two blue lines in the little windows stared back you, looking at the key on the handle you got your answer; you were pregnant.

“What does it say sweetheart?” Fred asked sounding nervous.

You turned around to face him, wrapping your arms around him. “I’m pregnant with your baby Fred and.. I want to keep it.” You decided.

Fred pulled away for a moment in shock but he smashed his lips against yours, kissing you like he had never kissed you before; his pool of love spilling into you.

“Let’s go and find George, I want him to be the first to know.” Fred beamed, you nodded your head in agreement with him.

“Am I really?!” George asked, sounding like his father, he grinned at the two of you.

You nodded your head and showed him the test, George got up on his feet and hugged you and then his brother.

By 5 months your little Weasley started to move inside of you, you would jolt at first and you started to notice stronger movements and little kicks during your classes, grabbing Fred’s hand you placed it on your bump.

The students started to spread rumours and the professors couldn’t ignore it anymore, after all, you weren’t denying it.

You and Fred were forced to address the rumours, you were both scolded for being so irresponsible but you were also provided with support for your academic studies and a much needed appointment with Madame Pomfrey.

You were lucky, Hogwarts still accepted you, The Weasley’s (after taking time to adjust) were so excited for you and Fred, but you were most nervous to tell your dad; the man who always believed in sex after marriage, hated the Weasleys, and slated pregnant teens who needed help.

Fred pulled out a chair for you at the kitchen table, once you sat down he pushed it in for you making enough room for your little bump.

“Pack plenty of food on that plate, dear” Molly smiled warmly at you.

This caused Ron’s mouth to gape open “All because she’s pregnant doesn’t mean she can—“

“If I were you I’d shut it” Fred warned his little brother

“unless you want to wake up to spiders in your bed.” George added, smirking.

Papa I know you're going to be upset

'Cause I was always your little girl

But you should know by now

I'm not a baby

“So what’s with the visit?” Your father eyed up you and Fred, trying to figure out why you were home on a Saturday.

Fred sat awkwardly on the sofa, his focus shifting on various objects around the room, he feared that your father would rip his head off if he were to look him in the face for longer than a second.

“I just wanted to come and see you, I thought I’d come here instead of going to Hogsmeade for the fifth time in a row” you smiled shyly, trying to keep calm.

Starting to sweat, you fanned your face with your hand, if you were to remove your jumper showing your larger bump you’d be kicked out before you could offer an explanation.

Your father noticed the fishtail braid in your hair and smiled.

“I remember braiding your hair like that when you were a little girl, you could never sit still on my knee. You would always fidget wanting to go and play with the other little girls and boys down the street”

You smiled at such a fond memory of you and your dad, hoping that he would do the same if you were to have a little girl.

“Dad, we uh.. we’re actually here because we’ve got some news.” You opened up bravely, remembering to not place your hand over your bump.

You always taught me right from wrong

I need your help, daddy please be strong

I may be young at heart

But I know what I'm saying

“Has something happened at Hogwarts?” He asked, “have you done something?” He turned to Fred with a fast forming glare on his face.

Fred shook his head, “I—“

“Fred hasn’t done anything” you replied quickly, stopping Fred’s chance at coming clean.

“I brought you up to know right from wrong, to work hard, to respect yourself, to stay away from vermin.” Your father spoke, his words like tiny pins pricking at your chest.

You held your dads hand walking through Diagon Alley to buy the equipment you needed for your first year at Hogwarts.

Waiting in the queue outside Ollivanders a young girl with a baby bump walked past, holding out her dirt covered hands. “Could you spare a sickle or two? I’ve got nowhere to go.” She begged.

Your father pushed you out of her presence, standing in front of you “not a chance, you silly girl.” He spat at her.

You gave her a glance of sympathy and stared down at your shoes.

“Don’t have sympathy for that pathetic girl, she got herself into this mess and she shouldn’t rely on hardworking people to get her out of it!”

The tears in your eyes made your vision go glassy, wiping them away with your sleeve, Fred was quickly asked by your father to leave the room and to wait outside in the hall.

“Dad” you cried, feeling a lump form in your throat “I don’t want you to be angry or upset, I’m responsible for my own actions and choices—“

“What have you done? Tell me!” Your father began to lose his patience.

Fred stood outside the door in the hallway, pacing up and down in tears, he blamed himself - you grew up without a mother and thanks fo him you might be losing your father.

The one you warned me all about

The one you said I could do without

We're in an awful mess

And I don't mean maybe, please

“I don’t want you hanging around them Weasleys, Y/N. They’re bad news.” Your father droned on, walking you to the train.

“They seem really nice” you muttered quietly, admiring the twins getting onto the train.

“They’re too poor for their own good, Arthur has a strange obsession with muggles. That wife of his clearly has a problem closing her legs with all them kids!”

You sighed, feeling annoyed and embarrassed to even be related to the man who was dropping you off.

“I better hurry up or I won’t find a good seat” you replied.

Your thoughts spinning around your head made you dizzy, you had to swallow down the bile. “Please don’t be mad with Fred, he’s a really good guy”

Your fathers hands were bunched into fists, his knuckles started to turn white. “What has he done? Fred, get in here now!”

Fred felt he could faint at any moment but walked back into the living room and sat next to you, taking your hand in his.

“We’re in a really tough situation.” You trailed off, more tears spilling from your orb like eyes.

Papa don't preach I'm in trouble deep

Papa don't preach, I've been losing sleep

But I made up my mind, I'm keeping my baby,

I'm gonna keep my baby,

“I’m pregnant.” You breathed out, feeling the weight suddenly lift of your shoulders “and I’m keeping it”

Your fathers face flushed with rage, he got on his feet and pulled out his wand but your instincts beat him to it, disarming him you shielded Fred.

“Dad please don’t do this.”

“You’ve really done it this time, girl!” Your father yelled. “Did I not raise you better? Did all those lessons mean nothing?!”

You began to shake in your shoes, but you stood your ground, Fred took himself away from your shielding. “She’s done nothing wrong!” He defended you.

“I bet you’ve done this on purpose, haven’t you? Get a beautiful young girl up the duff so no one will want her!” Your father bellowed at him.

He says that he's going to marry me

We can raise a little family

Maybe we'll be all right

It's a sacrifice

You and Fred cuddled in the upgraded double bed, his thumb circling yours as your hands glued together.

“I’m going to marry you, Y/N. Once we have this baby and get on our feet.” Fred murmured lowly, trying not to wake up his brother who laid fast asleep on the floor.

“That’s all I’ve ever wanted.” You replied, your hormones making you weep in relief.

“We’re going to have the most amazing life, mini Fred’s and Y/N’s running around.” He chuckled, kissing your head. “We can get through this.”

“It was an accident!” You yelled at your dad through tears, you gripped your bump feeling the little one kick out.

“A mistake more like!” Your dad yelled back “I was begged not to bring you up after your mother died, that was my mistake! And even worse, there will now be a bastard in the family!”

His horrible comments ripped you into pieces, the pins now turning into hot pokers.

Fred wanted nothing more than to tackle your father to the ground, to beat him senseless but he grabbed your hand and tried to control his emotions.

“We’re going to get married dad, but now it’s more common for non married couples to have kids!” You argued, trying to persuade him.

“Married! With what money! You’re more deluded than I bloody thought, he doesn’t even love you!”

But my friends keep telling me to give it up

Saying I'm too young, I oughta live it up

What I need right now is some good advice, please

“Have you truly thought this through?” Hermione bored into you, pacing in the common room.

You looked up from your books and nodded “yes, how many times do I have to explain?”

“I’m just saying it’s not too late to change your mind, you’re too young to be bringing a child into this world.”

“I’m still studying and attending classes aren’t I?” You huffed, scowling at her. “You’re younger than me!”

“But what about getting a job to provide for your child? It’s irresponsible!”

“I get it!” You yelled at her, you slammed your book shoot and tossed it across the room, storming out.

You were hyperventilating, Fred rubbed your back helping you regulate your breathing.

“You’re dead to me, now get out, both of you. Leave my house and never come back!” Your father yelled.

“Daddy please” you wailed “I really need you, please don’t do this.”

You walked away from Fred and up to your dad gripping his hand in yours, “I need my dad” you cried, searching his lifeless eyes for a response.

Papa don't preach, I'm in trouble deep

Papa don't preach, I've been losing sleep

But I made up my mind, I'm keeping my baby,

I'm gonna keep my baby,

You cried your eyes out, climbing into your dads arms for a cuddle.

“Please don’t cry” he wiped your tears “what’s got you so upset?”

“I’m not ready to go to Hogwarts, I don’t want to be so far from you.” You wailed, your hair sticking to your face from all the tears.

Your dad tutted and chuckled at your silly worries “you’re going to love it once you’ve settled in, and you can always write to me if you need to.”

Your father snatched his hand back out of your grip, he picked up his wand and stared down you and Fred.

“You both need to leave before I do something I can’t take back.” He warned “NOW”

You cried all the way back to Hogwarts, Fred and George comforting you when you broke down into a mess. Hermione helped you catch up on all the work you had missed from being unable to attend classes as you got into the later stages of your pregnancy, you were about to burst at any moment.

Daddy, daddy if you could only see

Just how good he's been treating me

You'd give us your blessing right now

'Cause we are in love

We are in love (in love), so please (so)

“Mum!” Fred yelled from the bathroom, holding your hand “It’s happening!”

Laying a pool of the water that burst from inside you, you were slammed with contractions making it hard for you to get back on your feet. This was it, the moment you had been waiting for the past nine months.

Molly stumbled into the bathroom and moved her hands around rapidly, piles upon piles of towels and blankets filled the room and the bath started to run.

“Fred help me get her trousers off so we can get her into the bath.”

“Mum we can just use—“

“We can’t use magic for everything!”

After finally getting you undressed they placed you into the bath.

Fred held your hand and knelt beside you, stroking your hair and placing kisses against your temple.

“Please don’t leave me” you cried, feeling frightened.

I’m not going anywhere, love.” He reassured you.

Papa don't preach, I'm in trouble deep

Papa don't preach, I've been losing sleep

But I made up my mind, I'm keeping my baby, hm

I'm gonna keep my baby, ooh ooh

You opened your eyes and looked down still thinking you were in the bath, you found yourself in Fred’s bed, wrapped in blankets with a towel over your chest.

You tried to sit up but Molly stopped you, “take it slow, dear” she said softly.

“Where’s Fred? Where’s.. where’s my baby?” You asked feeling panicky.

Before you could drive yourself into worry, the bedroom door opened and Fred walked in with your bundle of joy.

Fred now delighted you were finally awake came by your side and placed your child into your arms.

You had passed out from losing too much blood just as your child came into the world.

“Madame Pomfrey was hammering at the door, brilliant timing really.” George told you as you counted your child’s fingers and toes.

“Is it a girl or a boy?” You asked, looking up at the Weasleys standing around your bed.

“A beautiful baby boy.” Fred replied, kissing your head.

“Fabian Weasley” you smiled, looking at Molly. “Let’s name him Fabian.”