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twola · 4 months

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Your latest reblog of Arthur shaming himself in the mirror made me think of how badly I wanna jump his bones in front of one 🪞🪞

Mirror Image

Arthur Morgan x F!Reader Smut (18+), MDNI

➵ Fic Masterlist ➵ AO3 Link

“Ugh, you ugly bastard….”

God damnit. You’re sure he thinks you can’t hear him from the open door to the balcony, but the self-deprecating muttering he is doing under his breath reaches your ears and you sigh. Gripping the wooden railing overlooking Strawberry, your eyes flutter closed for a moment and you curse all those who came before you that made him think this way.

“No wonder they all leave you…”

“You know something I don’t?” Your voice cuts across the room, making his shoulder jolt and catching him off guard, something you’re surprised by, gunslinger that he is.

Arthur turns away from the mirror, scratching at the back of his neck sheepishly, knowing he’s been caught.

You don’t let him spiral any further, crossing your arms over your chest in a huff, “Are you ending this between us?”

“What -no…sweetheart-” He sputters, his cheeks turning an even deeper shade of red.

“Then why are you talking like that? I ain’t leaving you.”

Arthur looks down at the floor, “You will-”

“I won’t.” You step closer, the small heel of your boots thumping on the floor as your brow sets, narrowing your eyes as you raise your voice, “Why… why do I feel like I have to constantly prove to you that I’m not going anywhere?”

“Cause you deserve better than a sour-faced idiot like me,” Arthur snaps back, realizing his tone only after the words have spilled out, seeing you wince slightly at the outburst, “Sweetheart…”

You sigh again, and let your arms down from your chest, looking at the floor for a moment before pursing your lips in frustration. After a moment, you march pointedly toward him, catching him off guard again as you press your frame against him, hands maneuvering his large body in a quarter turn so that the two of you are prominently displayed in the reflection.

“What’re you doin’-”

Arthur audibly groans as you sink to your knees, gazing up at him as your hands move to unbutton the fly of his trousers, and then the lower buttons of his union suit as his pale skin becomes visible to you.

“Darl- you don’t-”

You cut him off further by pulling his burgeoning cock from his pants, coaxing it to fullness as you continue to look up at him. His hands curl into fists at his side, and with a glance toward the mirror, his eyes follow yours to see the reflection of the two of you. As he breathes out heavily from his nose, you return to your ministrations, pumping him until he stands rigid and blood-filled. His gaze is locked on the mirror as you lean toward him, taking his member into the warm cavern of your mouth.

You suck at him, bobbing back and forth on his shaft as one of his hands finds its way to your head, his fingers pulsing as your tongue pressed against the head of his cock before you take him completely into the warm cavern of your mouth again.

Pulling off of him with a wet sound, you find his gaze in the mirror, slack jawed and panting, his free hand’s knuckles white at his side from trying to hold restraint.

You lean in and press your lips to the underside of his cock, making all six foot of him shiver, before standing to your full height.

“Jesus, woman-” Arthur pants, his hand flying to his cock to stroke it, but you bat his arm away with one hand as the other wraps around his spit-slicked cock.

“Why is it so hard for you to think you deserve good things?”

He frowns, about to open his mouth before he has to bite his lip as you catch him on a downstroke. You give his cock several more pumps before moving half a step back, pulling your blouse out from where it is tucked into your skirt. He’s unable to do anything but watch you in that mirror as you quickly disrobe - your blouse is tossed to the side. Your skirt pools at your feet. You kick your boots off somewhere behind you. You pull your chemise overhead and throw it to the floor. Your bloomers join your skirt around your ankles.

“Look at me.” You order, and his eyes snap from the mirror and back to you, lust-blown and wide with surprise.

“You deserve to fuck me.” You state with force, grabbing one of his hands and shoving it between your legs, where moisture gathers, “You deserve to warm your cock in me and fuck me til you can’t anymore.”

He is completely flustered, only able to rub at your folds after a moment of gathering himself, breathing heavily as his other hand rubs his neglected cock.

After several moments of enjoying him touching that sensitive skin, you turn around, pressing your back against him, wiggling your hips against his pelvis for a moment before leaning forward, laying your arms upon the dresser as you gaze upon him in the mirror, your bodies side-profile in the reflection.

“Take what you deserve, Arthur.” You whisper, bent over at the waist in front of the mirror, and in an instant, he’s rushing that half a step forward as he unhooks his suspenders, his pants shoved to his knees as he guides his cock into your waiting cunt.

He slides in almost embarrassingly easily, and when you feel his hips press against your rear, he groans, holding still for a moment, his hands flying to your hips as he tries not to come simply from the rhapsody of being sheathed in your warmth.

You give him that moment to gather himself before throwing your hips back, urging him to move, and he grunts in surprise before taking the hint, quickly finding a rhythm of thrusting himself into you, staring at the two of you in that mirror, a full reflection of the carnal joining of your bodies.

“Say it.” You keen, arching your back to take him deeper still.

“Say -god- say wh-what?” He grunts out between thrusts, his hands tight around your hips as he watches his cock piston in and out of you, well glossed with your slick each time he pulls out.

“That you deserve t-this-” Your composure falls as the head of his cock hits that spot within you that makes your knees shake.

“S-sweetheart-” Arthur grunts as he tightens his grip on your hips as you nearly stumble, whining as you grip the dresser for dear life.

“Say it, goddamnit-” you nearly yell, your mouth hanging open as you pant, one of your hands snaking between your legs and rubbing yourself above where he spears into you.

“Fuck - Jesus…” Arthur throws his gaze to the ceiling before breathing out heavily through his nose, trying to recenter himself, “I-I deserve this.”

“You deserve m-me.”

“God, darlin’. I d-deserve you.”

“You, agh- you deserve to fill me up.”

That, that, is something he is not able to articulate into words. He lurches forward, groaning loudly, his entire body crashing into yours, emptying himself into your velvet core, gasping like a damn fish out of water.

You’re bent over the dresser, panting, your nakedness covered by the six foot frame of your beloved, whose forehead rests on the curve of your neck as he comes down from his release. After a few centering moments, he grunts as he extricates himself from you, and you cannot help the whine that escapes you at the loss of his flesh. The space that he carved for himself within your body is now empty, the warm drip of his release down your inner thighs the only evidence of your joining.

“Y’gonna -” you breathe out heavily as you push yourself to stand, your knees shaking slightly as you wince, continuing to lean over the dresser, “Y’gonna stop with that bullshit now?”

Arthur doesn't respond, and as you clench your teeth to lecture him again, you catch the view of him in that mirror - he’s completely stricken, his gaze unable to be drawn from the reflection of the wet streaks of him that trail down from your inner thighs. He stands there, breath still heavy and full, pants at his knees and cock hanging as it softens.

You close your eyes and let a long breath out your nose, and figure you’ve lectured him enough for the day. Getting him to truly believe that he’s deserving of good things… it’s going to take more than just today.

His fingertips surprise you, sliding between your thighs to trace where his spend stains your skin. It’s gentle, the way he touches you, until his large hands grasp at your thighs and lifting you up and into his embrace as you yelp in surprise.

“Bed- ain’t done with y’."

#arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #red dead redemption #red dead fanfic #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan x female reader #rdr2 fanfic #twolafic #arthur morgan x reader #red dead smut

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witchthewriter · 1 year

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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐫𝐲𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

10 years after the Battle of Hogwarts, the same boys who shared a dormitory are now raising little humans.

⤷ female, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ

𝑺𝑭𝑾🌿

𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐏𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫

・The Nurturing Dad™

・Always makes sure the baby has everything it wants and needs (always goes over the top.)

“Harry she already has everything. Just sit down!”

“But maybe she wants more binkies? Or another teddy? Babies love teddies-”

・Because he was given very little in his childhood, Harry unconsciously experiences that type of love through his daughter

・You had to point it out to him a few days before her first birthday. Harry was going OVERBOARD.

“She won’t remember Harry, it’s okay.”

“I don’t care if she doesn’t remember. She deserves it anyway.”

・He hates hearing her cry. The Dursleys used to let him cry and cry when he was younger. So his baby self realised no one was coming when he cried - so he stopped

・So, he never wants that to happen to his baby girl.

・Bought her a broom for her third birthday. It was only a toy one, barely hovering more than four feet in the air. But your little one loved it

・Molly and Arthur are referred to as Nanny and Poppy. Harry’s smile was ear to ear when Molly told him they wanted to be called that

“You’re our son, Harry.”

・Harry gets up in the middle of the night to check on her. He just loves looking at her in the doorway

𝐑𝐨𝐧 𝐖𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐲

・The Interactive Dad™

・The first time you got pregnant, you were only expecting ONE baby. But lo-and-behold, two heartbeats were found on the monitor.

・Ron nearly fainted

・Molly cried when you told her the news

・Ginny was ecstatic! So eager to be an Aunt. George was a bit hesitant, as well as distant when you told him. He didn’t want to be around the babies because he thought he’d give them some sort of darkness.

・But as soon as they were born, George was in love with them and with being an Uncle.

・When you were in the hospital bed, exhausted but content, the Weasley’s found their way to your suite and Ginny was holding balloons

・ Molly cried again

・They two babies, a girl and a boy, had freckles but only one had red hair

・When George sat down and was given both babies to hold, you could see the change in him.

“He...he looks like Fred.”

“We know. His names Fred, and the other is Georgina.”

・During the birth, Ron was there the whole time. From beginning to end. He told you to squeeze his hand as much as you needed to

・Is a stay-at-home dad. When you go to work, Ron has the twins strapped to his front and back.

“Look who’s home!” He calls from the kitchen. The place is pretty messy, but he’s started on dinner.

・The twins wear the beanies, scarves and jumpers that Nana Molly has knitted for them

・Georgina has a thing with biting though, and the first time she bit Ron he was ... kinda impressed

“Honey at least we know she can defend herself-”

𝐍𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞 𝐋𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐨𝐦

・The Thoughtful & Affectionate Dad™

・His child is the light of his life. You couldn’t find a better father.

・He’s patient, caring, level-headed and loving.

・Makes the baby’s food, does bath time and changes nappies (probably changed more than you have. He always says “You carried him for nine months, ripped parts of yourself to birth him. The least I can do is change his nappies.)

・He remembers your little boy’s favourite toy, colour, food and place.

・Neville has a hard time leaving your son with anyone, or going somewhere else without him. He constantly sends messages and writes down detailed instructions on how to look after your baby

・Takes as many photos of your son as possible. Has a whole book of them already

・Neville also shows anyone/everyone the photo he keeps in his pocket of you two. It’s of the first Christmas you had in your own home with your firstborn

・Isn’t afraid of showing your son affection. He’ll pepper kisses all over his face and it makes him giggle (the baby, well, Neville as well...)

・LOVES reading bedtime stories

𝐒𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐮𝐬 𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐧

・The Providing Dad™

・You’re either a working mum or stay at home mum. Seamus is out during the week, working for the ministry

・He felt really bad in the beginning because your son wouldn’t recognise him. The hours were long, especially because the ministry was working overtime, trying to get the Wizarding World back into shape

・But with consistency, and patience, Seamus bonded with his son so strongly

・Seamus makes everyone feel safe at home. He locks all the doors and windows, and can be relied on for backup whenever it’s wanted

・Did your son inherit the blowing things up gene? To your utter dismay. Yes.

・Was a bit defensive when your son liked ‘girly’ things, but you explained gender norms and expression. When he saw how much your son found joy in dressing up or playing with dolls, he came round

・You dress your son in matching outfits with Seamus. You do it without telling him and see how long it takes for him to notice (he hasn’t noticed yet)

𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐬

・The Cool Dad™

・Everyone wants to come around to your house because Dean is so friendly

・Dean actually loves going shopping for your daughter. He loves the little outfits, the pink onesies and tutus with matching fairy wings.

・He’s great with sleepovers. They drive you insane, but he handles chaos so easily

・You asked him about it one day.

“How do you handle it, Dean? They’re so loud when they’re together! There’s so much mess too. God, I don’t want to ruin their fun but it’s driving me crazy!”

“I know, it’s okay sweetheart. I guess it doesn’t bother me because it doesn’t matter. And the mess, the noise, it’s all caused because they’re having fun.”

“You have a point. But you keep your calm with everything!”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters. The battle at Hogwarts changed me. Life is so fragile. Anything can mean nothing and everything - you just have to decide what’s important and what isn’t.”

・Uses your daughter to flirt with you. He’ll send her in with a bunch of roses and says “these are from daddy” but she gets bored with it and drops them on the floor

・DEFINITELY plays dress up and has a favourite princess crown

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whydon-twego · 1 year

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Arthur hates his job. He hates the extra hours he has to put in every day and he hates that he hardly has any time to see his friends but, above all, he hates working for his father, but a strange sense of honor prevents him from resigning as if by doing so he could say he has failed. He is lonely and feels powerless but one day, almost as if by a miracle, he meets Merlin. Merlin is a few years younger than him, a university senior, and works full-time in a cafeteria that pays him less than he deserves but turns a blind eye if he has to leave early to take an exam. They became inseparable in less than twenty-four hours and got together in less than a week (a miracle, according to all their friends) Arthur does not talk about the problems he has at work at first because he does not want to burden the initial conversations and then he does not talk about them because he does not want to worry Merlin. He complains occasionally about his father but tries not to show how much it is weighing on him. Despite everything Merlin makes him realize that he should just quit, find another firm or at least take a leave of absence from work and really think about what he wants to do.

Arthur, for the first time, really thinks about it. Months go by and Arthur continues to be indecisive, Merlin doesn't pressure him in any way and just supports him, and Arthur is almost convinced that it's okay to go on like this, at least until his father gives him a further two-hour lecture on how inadequate he is, how the firm is not going well because of mistakes Arthur has made (he hasn't made any mistakes) and, to Arthur's horror, Uther brings up Merlin saying that it's definitely that boy's fault that Arthur isn't giving it his all. Arthur decided at that moment that he would resign at the end of the week. He wants to talk to Merlin, he wants to celebrate with Merlin, and so he sends him a message if they can meet. Merlin replies that he is at home and can drop by whenever he wants, Arthur reads the message and thinks there is something strange in the tone of the conversation.

He realizes what it is the moment Merlin opens the door for him and his eyes are red with tears. "They reduced my working hours," he says as he runs his hands through his hair and starts explaining how he doesn't have time to find another job on the spur of the moment, how he can't even think about having to find a second one but that he can't ask his mother for money because she doesn't have any, but the rent is too expensive, the bills don't pay themselves and he has absolutely no idea what to do with the university because his lecturer is an ass. "Come live with me" Arthur says this without even realizing it, he knows it's early, he knows they haven't been together for even a year, but he has no second thoughts. It's what he wants. Merlin looks at him as if he has gone mad and is about to say something but Arthur raises a hand and nips any protest in the bud. "You won't have to pay rent, you won't have to pay bills. If it makes you feel better you can buy your own groceries, but fewer hours at work means you can study more and take your time, I think that's the best solution for everyone." Merlin grabs him and takes him into the bedroom. Arthur has nothing to complain about. Arthur sucks it up and continues to work for his father. He doesn't quit his job because he knows he won't find another one as lucrative and Merlin deserves the world. More months pass and it is almost time for Merlin to graduate and Arthur is happy to see Merlin's dream come true. Unlike him, his father continues to be manic in his demands and Arthur is increasingly tired. And it is with a sense of horror that Arthur, having finished another tirade from his father, is told by Gwen that Merlin has gone to find him on his lunch break and chatted with Gwen about how Arthur is doing at work.

Back home Arthur also receives a lecture from his boyfriend.

"You stupid clotpole, damned dollophead, how could you do this to yourself?" And Merlin spends the rest of the evening telling him what an idiot Arthur is, repeating how much he loves him, throwing blows to the back of his head and later hugging him without letting go. Arthur is a little doubtful about what is going on but when he is hugged he hugs back, putting his head in the crook of Merlin's neck and feeling strangely safe. On the day of Merlin's graduation, Merlin forces Arthur to resign. They can live in a much smaller house, they can live off their savings until Merlin gets a job, but most importantly, Arthur can get a part-time job and go back to university to study what he really wanted to do. Now Merlin will be in charge of him.

Merlin and Arthur get married the day after Arthur's graduation

#merthur #merthur prompt #merthur fanfic #merthur plot #merlin fanfic #merlin prompt #melin fanfic #arthur pendragon #merlin #modern AU #merthur modern au #merlin modern au #merlin emrys #merlin bbc #bbc merlin #my prompt #my writing

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percydarling · 1 year

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My Pride and Joy

Chapter 1 : Percy

It was the end of a decade / But the start of an age

-------------------------------

He’s glad he has an apartment to go to at this moment in time. That somehow he foresaw that something would happen, the event that would drive him out of the Burrow, in need of another shelter.

He didn’t realise that the event would be an argument with his father.

He had expected an argument with his Mum or the twins or Ron but never in a million years would he imagined that it would be Dad, Dad who never raised his voice, who left Mum to deal out the punishments, who never had a problem with him.

Percy was flabbergasted.

He let himself inside the apartment, the walls not white, but blue, dark blue and a comfortable couch he could sink into. Of course he hadn't selected a plain white apartment, something he was sure his siblings thought boring Percy would do - select an apartment that lack color and be as boring as he was. No, he had selected an apartment with is favorite color and had decorated it as such, a bookshelf full of Muggle and magic books and a great deal of furniture from chairs to tables to lamps and whatnot. He had even put up photographs!

He charmed the door shut and fell onto the couch, drained and miserable.

The words stung.

Every word that came out of his father’s mouth seemed to taunt him starting from the implied accusation of Percy being a spy to Percy being arrogant and proud. He had not entertained the possibility that his father would be anything but happy that he had secured a position in the volatile Ministry of Magic. After that previous mishap...

Percy will be the first person to admit that he was prideful, that yes he had a bit of pride in his work, he delivered what was required and more, he did what he could to improve and worked towards a goal that wasn’t impossible.

But being proud was not a bad thing, wanting better for yourself is not a bad thing.

All his life, all he wanted was respect, a decent life with no monetary problems, no more clothes with holes in them, no more murmurs of the Weasleys being poor and pitiful looks his way.

He wanted to live, just live a good life.

He hadn’t wanted to be famous or rich, he just wanted a bit of respect and admiration. Was that too much to ask for?

How could he have that, someone else’s respect when his own family didn’t respect him? When even they think that he’s some monster or a fool or a prat. Someone who didn't belong to their home?

Percy drags himself out of the couch, striding towards the kitchen. He needed a drink, a strong one. Percy wasn’t a drinker (that was Charlie) but the occasion of calling his father a “good for nothing pauper” deserved a stiff glass of his best Firewhiskey.

With his wand, he summoned a glass. Looked at it and then returned it back to its place grabbing the entire bottle. Forget a glass, this occassion required the entire bloody bottle.

He wants to forget everything, he wants to go back home, he wants to keep his pride, he wants his Mum, he wants to apologise, he wants to giht even more, he wants everything and nothing.

He knows there’s a bit of truth in his words - no, not the insults he hurled - but about the money situation and if only his father had dared to do better, earn more to feed a family of nine. If only he had thought - “Hmm I have seven children to feed and they require supplies, maybe I should ask for a raise or promotion?”

Percy’s still bitter about it, he’s allowed to be. He couldn’t even work in the Ministry without someone remarking about him being one of Arthur’s sons and the state of their family. The taunts, the insults about the red hair and the freckles.

Which is why he had ensured that he wore the best quality Ministry robes, money could buy - at least they couldn’t comment about their clothes being hand-me-downs.

(Not that it mattered, he's already earned a reputation by not noticing that his boss wasn't really his boss)

He doesn’t know if the fight was about Harry and Dumbledore or the fact that they were poor or that no one in the family respected Percy. Maybe a mixture of them all.

His parents believing Dumbledore was something he should have known, after all the horror Ron and Ginny had gone through, they still believed he would protect them. That wizard would sacrifice them if it assisted his agenda. He couldn’t care less about them, about his students and Cedric died, under his watch!

He had known Cedric, a nice kind boy who could go places but he couldn’t because he was dead.

Percy takes a gulp of the drink, letting the bitter taste overwhelm him as his thoughts of Cedric fade away. Cedric wasn’t his friend, but he was someone Percy knew, someone Percy respected and it doesn’t get better than that.

He had attended the funeral, something Harry oh our saviour Potter hadn’t managed to do. Cedric’s parents were grief-stricken and it struck Percy how uncanny it was that they were burying their son who hadn’t even graduated.

For some reason, he had thought about Ron, if he would even graduate or even be alive to graduate because if he kept being best mates with Harry...it's bound to get him killed. He hated the fact that he had such a thought.

He had offered his condolences to Amos Diggory, Cedric’s father who had looked him in the eye with such defeat, it had moved Percy.

"You don't deserve this, he didn't deserve this", Percy had stated, he doesn't know why because the words are worthless.

"No he didn't", Amos replied looking at his son's coffin, " he really didn't".

Percy took a deep breath as he drank again.

His fight with his family was unavoidable, he knew it was going to happen. The way they treated him.. it hurt. He didn’t deserve it, he knew his self-worth, even after years of tearing him down, he knew he deserved better than this, than whatever this toxic relationship with his family was.

Maybe that’s why Bill and Charlie ran away.

He still remembers the way Mum looked, when Charlie said he was shifting to Romania, to work with dragons (the scariest creatures). Mum's face had turned red as she argued with him about the cost, the danger of it all, the risk and the farness of it all.

Charlie had left anyway, leaving Mum crying and disappointed, instead weaponising that anger into caring for her other children still with her.

A naive Percy had promised that he would never hurt her the way Bill and Charlie had done. And he hadn't.

He had hurt Dad instead.

They've hurt him too, he doesn't know how oblivious they are and can be to his situation. Did they really not realise that their words have consequences on his mental health? Do they think calling him prat daily, was simply a nuisance to him and not one more reason to add to the list that his family hates him with a burning passion? It's almost laughable how they believe him to be the fool when they're the ones who fool themselves into thinking that it's Percy, he doesn't care, we can say hurtful stuff about him to anyone and everyone!

They made fun of him polishing his badge fifty times.

They didn’t know he had scrubbed the blood from the safehouse a hundred times and it still shone red.

They made fun of his large vocabulary and proper speaking skills.

They didn’t know Aunt Muriel had slapped him every time he wrote or pronounced a word wrong.

They made fun of him being an ardent follower of rules.

They don’t know that breaking one of the safehouse’s rules had almost led to his demise.

They didn’t know and he hoped they never would. It’s not something he’s willing to share because the way they think of him, they’d probably say he deserved it.

People would look at him, aghast that he would say something like that about his family, that he’s overreacting and they’re his family and they love him.

But if Ron can call him a Slytherin traitor in front of his friends and the twins can lock him in a pyramid in a foreign country and Ginny can betray his secret to her brothers letting them tease him about Penelope and Father could laugh along with everyone at his expense, then saying that he deserved awful things is the least harmful thing they’ve said to him, his whole life.

He still can’t believe it was his father who verbally abused him. His Dad and him were cordial, he would say, it wasn't as if Percy didn't love his dad, of course he did! But with Mum, Percy was different more closer to her and that's to be expected, his father isn't even home half of the time and by the time Percy had met his father, he was six and a Mummy's boy as they say.

It's not his fault that he was fighting in the war and before he was born, his father had spent time bonding with Bill and Charlie so they had a close bond and by the time the war ended, there were the twins and Ron who had required fatherly love.

Really, Percy was perfectly fine with his relationship with his father, it wasn't close but it wasn't far enough to make him a stranger.. although today's event might just really make them strangers who had known each other for some time.

Percy shakes his head, he stops drinking and throws the empty bottle in the wastebasket as he makes his way to the bedroom.

All he’s ever wanted was to feel safe and ensure his family was safe. Being raised during a war does that to you, that a normal life without fear is a gift and it is.

It’s dark. He hadn't realised how late it was at night, everything and everyone silent and peaceful. He pulls the curtains together, making the room even darker as he charms his door shut letting his wand rest on the table beside him as he lies down on the bed.

Somehow he’s failed at everything, his family, his friends and himself but not his career, not yet. He’s not planning to.

He thinks about today and he realises he’s not felt this good in years, letting all that anger out of his system (though a bit unfair to his father) had done him good.

He feels free.

And in a long time, Percy doesn’t have nightmares, doesn’t keep awake wondering when it will be dawn, instead Percy sleeps peacefully, in this new home.

#percy weasley #percy weasley fanfic #percy weasley centric #arthur weasley #weasley family

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mutable-manifestation · 1 year

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The Ghost King (of Miscommunication) - Ch.15

Part 1-12, Part 13, Part 14

Part 15! (here!)

***

Once the portal is shut, it’s like the world freezes.

Superman lay weakly on the floor, blinking up at the ceiling in confusion.

Martian Manhunter skids to a stop just past where the portal had been, having reacted too slowly to make it.

Flash remains where he’d skidded to a stop upon his return, mouth hanging just slightly open and chest unmoving like he’s forgotten to breathe.

Signal, Spoiler, and Robin kneel around Nightwing, who sits on the floor where they’d caught and placed him.

Red Robin and Orphan support Batman, who’s already halfway back up when he stops moving.

Alfred and Oracle watch, half-standing and rolled back to see everything, respectively.

Then the moment is over.

Flash looks at the Kryptonite in his hands and rushes to put it back away.

He berates himself the whole way there; he should’ve done something! He could have had Jason halfway across the planet before that thing could blink (or it could’ve possessed him on his way and taken Jason somewhere else to shove him through a Horrifying Rip in Space-Time that felt wrongwrongwrong).

By the time he returns the conference room is a flurry of organized chaos; Martian Manhunter is detailing Aquaman’s location and activity to an attentive Oracle, Batman grills Superman on his possession at the other end of the table, Orphan and Robin are wrapping the area where the portal had been in caution tape, and Signal stares on.

The rest of the bats - and their ‘Agent A’ - are absent.

Batman is going to chew him out, he knows.

He deserves it for freezing like that when the newly-littlest Robin was being kidnapped right in front of them, he thinks.

No matter that the Speed Force felt like it was screaming in his ears and grating against his skin just from being near that…thing.

---------------

Dick and Stephanie are furious to be sent away, but Bruce doesn’t budge.

All of them had been up for hours longer than was healthy, even compared to their standard levels of over-exertion. At least two of them would need to be fresh enough to patrol the next night.

The last thing they needed was to give the criminal elements of the city enough false hope to start making more trouble than usual. They had to focus on finding Jason.

It had been a priority before, certainly, but in an abstract way. They’d wanted to find him, they’d suspected kidnapping, but they’d also known Jason’s tendency to be less predictable.

To run off on his own.

To disappear without warning.

He’d done it plenty since his return from the dead, but it had become less frequent over time.

They’d worried and they’d searched, but there was always the lingering hope that Jason simply wanted time away again. That Dick’s early-patrol jokes had simply grated a tad too much.

They knew better now.

Jason had been kidnapped - was still kidnapped - and they had been powerless to prevent it despite the fact that both he and his captor of the hour had been right in front of him.

It takes another two hours to get Wonder Woman, Aquaman, Green Lantern, and John Constantine to the Watchtower.

Arthur had been in a closed-door meeting and hadn’t seen his messages until later on, Hal had been off-planet and the fly home had taken time, and Diana and Constantine had been dealing with their own separate crises.

By the time they’d arrived all of the scanners that Tim had brought back had once again turned up a heaping helping of nothing.

All they had to go on for information now other than the interaction itself was Superman’s account of possession - marked by a lack of memory - and Flash’s description of the effect the portal had on the speed force.

Constantine circles around the cordoned-off part of the room as Bruce gets the new arrivals up-to-speed.

It’s more interest than he’d shown at Clairemont Street.

He hopes that means he knows something that can help get Jason back.

…

(Bruce had held his son in his arms and lost him anyway.

Jason had gone away and returned to him twice - both returns had been a miracle.

This is the third time now.

The phrase “three strikes, you’re out” rings through Bruce’s mind.

He won’t stop trying to bring Jason back, but he can’t stop the creeping sense of dread and grief forming itself into a ball in his throat.)

***

Fun Fact (for this AU if it isn’t DC cannon): Most portals are made by spacial dilation/folds. Space is bending, but it’s still space. Ghost Portals rip a literal hole in space, so what Wulf just did is the closest a thing like the Speed Force can come to being injured and its ‘agony’ echoed out to Flash as dread due to how close he was to it.

#dpxdc #danny phantom #batman #batfam #Justice League #comedy-horror of errors #Angst POV #Sad Bruce hours #Sad Flash hours #Sad Entire Batfam Hours

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massiveladycat · 1 month

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second thoughts about bloodmarked

hey! you can see the first rant in like my blog. but i just had a thought. considering my first small rant was talking about yk ahaha the whole love plot thing i'm PRAYING that is like a 'haha sike' from tracy and the series makes a comeback, i'm just gonna talk about things OTHER than the love triangle that gets on my last nerve! reminder: you don't have to read allat, and this is jst my thoughts and i'd love to hear yours in the reblogs! TW: rape mentioned, racism mentioned (if any of these trigger you, PLEASE do not read further!) it kind of bothered me that every interaction that bree had with another black person all felt very business like interactions... the last part of the book to be wrapped up in the ROOT (get it) of bree's character, her ancestry, she felt a little distant from it and other black people and root users yk?? and then we get bree complaining how vera fucked over all her descendants (i will be talking abt this. this ESPECIALLY gets me bothered) and something about it rubbed me the wrong way also just mentioning something i find funny when bree like absolutely WRECKED alice. why did she suplex homegirl like this. hit her with the ddt. the rock bottom. stone cold stunned her ass. wwe wrestler bree is so real LMFAO. going on with my rant what finally pissed me off so much that i thought "if i throw this book im justisfied" is when Vera, a fucking desperate enslaved person trying to keep her family safe is made subject to the vitriol of a bratty teenage girl. let's run back vera's plot. vera was raped by a scion of arthur, and became pregnant with her child. this was during the years where slavery was okay and you could treat people like shit depending on the color of their skin. vera had to run because she was being hunted down because the order thought "uh uh! our next scion of arthur CANT be black" and vera ended up making a deal (a deal tht i forgot) to protect her family. i'm pretty sure something ended up hunting down every one of vera's descendants slowly but surely, and bree was mad that her ancestor had gone through so much that she sits there in the farm where vera was RAPED and calls all her ancestors over there, yells at them until she gets to vera. and then she rants and tells her to get lost and insults her all bc bree is really mad ! okay, bree, girl, i would be mad too if a demon was hunting me down. what i would not do is take it out on a desperate slaved ancestor in the spot where a lot of her trauma took place. wtf bree? okay btw wondering if tracy even likes nick? at all? is she like deciding ''should i fuck him up or should i leave him be.'' he was actually nice to bree from the start while sel showed red flags of being racist af. he loves bree, wants to protect her, makes decisions because he's thinking of her and sometimes hes flawed and thats okay! nobody's perfect! and he LISTENS to her. in legendborn nick thought bree had cheated on him with sel. seeing him like so distraught made ME freak out. like girl if you don't fix this... and then Bloodmarked pulled him aside, and benched him. bree and sel are kissing in a forest of fireflies while nick is running for his life from his parents and a merlin. he deserved better than to be freaking cheated on when he thinks he's abt to die like every moment. when he is literally a HOSTAGE of the man who was supposed to protect him (his father) and a freaking merlin people talking about ''hey!! lancelot betrayed arthur!! nick could betray bree!! coincidence?? i think NOT!!" no. bree betrayed nick. i love you bree but get it together and please admit to nick you cheated on him and kissed sel repeatedly while he was a hostage. and he BETTER not be happy abt it. nobody's happy after getting cheated on and nobody's quick to forgive after being cheated on. all in all:

#bloodmarked #bree matthews #briana matthews #the legendborn cycle #legendborn #selwyn kane #tracy deonn #nicholas davis

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imogenkol · 6 months

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— 10 CHARACTERS / 10 FANDOMS / 10 TAGS

Rules: List 10 of your favorite characters from 10 different fandoms and then tag 10 people!

tagged by @ladyyennefer and @simonxriley Thank you! 💕

tagging: @statichvm @adelaidedrubman @marivenah @kyber-infinitygems @cassietrn @jillvalentinesday @socially-awkward-skeleton @florbelles @chuckhansen @e-the-village-cryptid

Commander Lexa (The 100) — the love of my life, my number one from now until the end of time, deserved a far better ending and I will forever be bitter about it.

Ellie Williams (The Last of Us) — I would walk through fire for this character. I love her more than my own life.

Bix Caleen (Andor) — it was so hard to only pick one Star Wars character, but she really has a special place in my heart now. Also deserved better. Tony Gilroy I am in your fucking walls.

Arthur Morgan (Red Dead Redemption 2) — all I wanted to do was root and toot and yee and haw, but this game made me deeply love this man. I frequently cry about him.

Jessica Jones (Marvel) — she’s an absolute mess, she’s an asshole, but by god does she try.

Emma of Normandy (Vikings: Valhalla) — look, I’m usually strongly Team Viking in these shows, but her first scene made me switch sides in record time. I will also defend her actions in s2 with my full chest. I support women’s rights and women’s wrongs.

Senua (Hellblade: Senua’s Sacrifice) — I haven’t even played this game myself, but it completely altered my brain chemistry. Senua truly reached into my fucking soul. I cry when I think about her for more than a few minutes. “All she needed was a little help. A little hope.”

Villanelle (Killing Eve) — everything is wrong with her <3

Lestat de Lioncourt (Interview With The Vampire) — everything is wrong with him <3

Inej Ghafa (Six of Crows) — One of the most perseverant characters I’ve ever read. The end of her story is so beautiful and it makes me full on sob every single time without fail.

#special shout-out to Jyn for being the runner up sw fav #there were a few things where I simply couldn’t choose a favorite/the characters came in a set #I’m sure I’ve forgotten some really important characters and then I’ll feel like a parent who forgot their kid at school #but this is a pretty decent round up

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woodland-fairy-tay · 3 months

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Possible controversial Red Dead Redemption 2 topic. Brace yourselves.

SPOILERS BELOW!!!

When Molly gets taken down by Miss Grimshaw, at the start of chapter 6, you’ll get to walk around the camp and talk to members of the gang and hear their responses to how they feel about Molly‘s departure, and by what Molly told Dutch and the gang about her “betrayal”.

There’s one particular member of the gangs response that always bothered me or rubbed me the wrong way and that was Sadie’s. Only because when we meet Sadie in chapter 1 through chapter 6, we don’t see any interaction between her and Molly so for her to have such strong hate towards Molly and her death makes little to no sense to me. Everybody else in the gang makes sense because they’ve known Molly for few months to a few years. I mean hell, Mary-Beth and Karen felt bad for Molly‘s death. Karen, who, often got into arguments and physical fights with Molly, got into a screaming match with Miss Grimshaw over killing Molly and calling Miss Grimshaw a murderer, because she knew that Molly wasn’t a rat, and that Molly was simply in love.

When we rescue John from Sisika Penitentiary, Sadie calls Molly a bitch (“The bitch”) due to ratting on the gang. Which, of course, later in the chapter we find out that Molly was not the rat, it was Micah, Molly only said that to get Dutch’s attention and possibly just get herself killed. I don’t know. We don’t fully know what was going on in Molly‘s headspace besides her being drunk and a woman betrayed by someone who she loved. I failed to record it, but when I was walking around the camp, Sadie had mentioned that Molly got what she deserved, and that Miss Grimshaw did the right thing, only adding on to my confusion as to why she’s so bitter.

In Sadie defense, I get it because she’s a part of the gang now, and she’s loyal to some of the gang members who she cares about. This is her new family now, considering what happened to her husband. Members such as Arthur, Abigail, John, Jack, and Charles. I can’t really speak on everybody else because it’s not really shown throughout the story as strongly as everyone else mentioned a sentence ago. And for someone to rat on the gang meant you had to go (by death or kicked out). I’d like to point out that Arthur didn’t want Molly to be killed, he wanted her to be tossed out simply because she had gone crazy, and when we play as Arthur, it shows that even he doesn’t fully believe that she ratted on the gang.

In some ways, I wish that rockstar had made some conversations between Molly and Sadie, to which Sadie could talk to Molly about her husband. Telling Molly about how a real man shows his love and devotion to his woman. That way that could be something they could bond over. Maybe that could’ve been the driving force to make Molly realize that Dutch never really loved her. Molly could’ve lived instead of died, and she could’ve escaped the gang and moved on somewhere else to live a better life instead of what she got in the end. I just don’t agree with Sadie emotions/behavior (I don’t know how to word it) towards Molly considering they had little to no interaction with each other.

Am I overthinking this??? Also, I’d like to point out that this is not me hating on Sadie in no way, shape or form. I just want to put that out there for all the Sadie lovers. I love her too, but I had to put that out there.

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #molly o'shea #sadie adler #am i overthinking this?#red dead fandom #red dead redemption 2 chapter 6 #Molly O’Shea deserved better #this is not me hating on Sadie Adler #I’m just ranting #arthur morgan #rdr2 community #karen jones #mary beth gaskill

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emotionalcadaver · 10 months

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Part 13: Dance of Darkness

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Grace Burgess x OC

Summary: Lucy finally finds out the secret Tommy and Grace have been keeping from her all day.

Word Count: 4,440

Notes: Thank you so much to everyone for reading, and I hope you enjoy this last part! There will be a few one-shots posted hopefully soon that will take place between this fic and my rewrite of season 3, to fill in some of the the time gaps between the seasons and to tie up some loose ends here (sorry in advance for the cliffhanger ending). Warnings for depictions of angst, violence, murder, suicidal ideation, and references to sexual assault and pregnancy. Also a big ol' helping of miscommunication because they’re all STUPID.

Masterlists: Main • Series • Fic

Previous Part • Next Part

Chapter 14: Close

“Here,” Lucy lit a cigarette for Lizzie, watching her carefully as she clutched it in her shaking fingers. “The trembling is normal. It’ll pass.”

She could hear Arthur’s booming voice long before he and John spotted them. When they did, Arthur hauled up a chair, sitting down at their table.

“Lizzie, what the fuck are you doing here?”

“Working for Tommy, same as always,” she said shakily.

“You work for the Blinders?”

Lizzie nodded.

“Hey, have either of you seen Tommy?” Lucy asked, checking her watch, frowning. They shook their heads. “Shit,” she took Lizzie’s hands. “Will you be okay if I leave you with John and Arthur? I need to go find him.”

Lizzie nodded, and Lucy gave her another quick squeeze. “Okay. Hey, boys, can you…just sit with her, for a while? And make sure that she gets home okay? I’ve got to go.”

“Sure,” Arthur said.

“Of course,” John spoke at the same time. She nodded.

“Okay, thank you,” getting up, she rushed away, trying to think just where Tommy could have gone off to. Maybe to find May. Or Grace. The ring was closer, she would try there first.

“May!” she shouted, upon seeing her walking beside Grace’s Secret, preparing to take her home.

“Lucy?”

“Have you seen Tommy?”

“No, I figured that he would be with you.”

“We…we got separated and now I can’t find him.”

“I’m sure he’ll turn up.”

“I’m sorry,” Lucy said, shaking her head. “Things haven’t quite gone to plan today.”

“It’s alright. You don’t have to explain,” May wrapped her arms around herself, looking down.

“May?”

“I met her.”

“Who?”

May looked up, expression apprehensive. “Grace.”

Lucy hesitated, guilt building in her throat. “Oh.”

“Mhm.”

“May,” she sucked in a deep breath, wishing that Tommy was there. He was so much better at the talking when it came to these things than her. “Listen–”

“It’s alright. Really. I understand. I think.”

“We never meant to hurt you or lead you on, or…we never thought that she would come back.”

May nodded. “I know.”

Sniffing, Lucy tucked some hair behind her ear. “I’d like to still see you. I’d like to still be friends…I understand if you don’t want that. I know that Tommy would like to keep working with you too, so, um…”

“I would like that.”

She looked up, genuinely startled. After everything, May really had every right to just tell her to fuck off. “Really?”

May shrugged, smiling. “Truth be told, I could use a friend.”

Lucy smiled. “Me too.”

“I have to get the horse home.”

“Right, yes. Go. Don’t let me keep you.”

May hesitated, then wrapped her in a quick hug. “Goodbye, Lucy.”

“Bye, May,” she watched her and the horse disappear, and then sucked in a deep breath. She would try Grace next. Upstairs.

She was climbing them two at a time, eyes continually scanning the crowd, looking for any sign of Tommy’s hat or undercut hair, when she nearly collided with Polly, who was leaving the betting room.

“Polly! You…you’ve spilled a little wine on your dress,” she said, lips curling upwards teasingly as she noticed the blot of red on the front of Polly’s white dress. Far two bright of a red to be wine.

“Hm? Oh, yes,” she clasped her bag over the spot. “It appears I have.”

“He get what he deserved?”

“More than.”

“Mm. How do you feel?”

“Better, actually.”

“Good,” Lucy nodded. “Good. Have you seen Tommy?”

Polly shook her head. “No. Why?”

“No reason,” Lucy lied, not wanting to alarm her. “Listen, Arthur and John and Lizzie are all over there, if you want to join them,” she pointed in the general direction of where she’d left them.

“I think I will. Are you coming?”

“No, I have some things to do first,” she bid Polly goodbye and rushed past the crowd streaming in and out of the betting area. A few coppers were gathered around one of the telephone booths, looking down at a body slumped over in one of them. Bye, bye, Major Campbell. May you rot in hell.

Stretching up on her toes, then jumping slightly, she cursed her lack of height as she strained to see over the crowd’s heads, looking for the pink hat or dress Grace had been wearing. Oh, fuck it. Shoving past a man, she climbed up onto a chair, grinning triumphantly as she towered over everyone in the room, scanning them each one by one, until…

Aha!

Leaping down from the chair, she elbowed her way through until she tapped Grace on the shoulder, where she was sitting hunched over, smoking and looking more than a little anxious.

“Grace.”

“Lucy,” she straightened up, wrapping her arms around her. “I was getting worried.”

“Yeah. Sorry. I…have you seen Tommy? Did he come to see you yet?”

“No, no, I haven’t seen him since…” she trailed off, biting her lip.

“Fuck,” Lucy ran and hand through her hair, scrunching away when she was jostled by a man behind her. “I can’t find him anywhere.”

“You don’t have any idea where he might be?”

“No. He didn’t show up where he said he was going to meet me,” she glanced around helplessly. Like at any moment he might reappear right in front of her.

“Where was he headed last?��

“He was going to meet…” she stopped, teeth grinding together. “Ah, fuck.”

“What?”

She gave Grace a humorless smile. “I’m going to have to go talk to Sabini.”

“On your own?” Grace’s eyes widened.

“He might be the last person who will have an idea where Tommy is.”

“I’ll come with you.”

“No, love. I don’t think so.”

“I could help.”

“It’s just him and his assistant. The coppers are still all crowded around the king. I’ll be fine, promise. Sabini’s not so scary, really. He just likes to throw temper tantrums when he loses.”

Grace sighed, but nodded dejectedly. Lucy winced as she was jostled again.

“Let’s get out of this crowd, come on,” she took Grace by the hand, pulling her along until they got outside.

“Lucy, before you and Tommy were separated, did he tell you what he and I talked about?” Grace asked, a sudden urgency in her voice. The same one that had been there when she’d first approached them earlier in the day.

“No,” Lucy shook her head. “He said that he would tell me later. Why? What is it?”

Grace’s lips pressed together. “He said that he wanted to be the one to tell you.”

“Tell me what?”

Grace looked at her stubbornly and she sighed.

“Fine, don’t tell me,” though she pouted a little, not liking the sudden feeling of being left out.

“I really think it would be better that he tell you.”

“If you say so. Look,” she glanced around. “How did you get here?”

“I have a driver.”

“Can he take you home?”

“Yes.”

“Right,” Lucy dug around in her pocket. “Here. Take this,” she held out a little brass key. “Go to the address on the key. Go inside, there’s food, bed…make yourself at home. Once I’ve found him and we get everything sorted, we’ll come there and find you, okay?”

Grace took the key gently, then nodded. “Okay.”

“It’s my flat. You’ll be more than safe there.”

“I know. Lucy, if something’s happened to him…”

“He’ll be fine,” Lucy insisted. Grace looked down, frowning. “He will be,” she repeated, sternly.

Grace suddenly hugged her, very tightly. “I love you,” she whispered, into Lucy’s shoulder. She blinked hard, both stunned and suddenly overwhelmed with emotion as she wrapped her arms around Grace.

“I love you too,” she said, softly, then, with great reluctance, she pulled back. Giving Grace the most reassuring smile that she could muster. “I’ll see you soon.”

Grace nodded, and began to head to the exit, pulling her coat tighter around her, key clutched in her gloved palm.

With a deep breath, Lucy turned around, and began to walk towards where she suspected Sabini would be: the fancy dining room near the top of the stairs. She spotted his pristine gray suit through the windows, talking with his assistant with a hushed, likely agitated voice. No point being subtle, or quiet. She needed the information and she needed it now.

Slamming the doors open she stalked up behind the two men. Sabini’s assistant spotted her first, and began to rise from his seat. Before he could even get half up, she punched him in the throat, as hard as she could. Sputtering and choking, he fell to his knees. And then she descended on Sabini from behind, grabbing him by the back of the neck and slamming his head into the table so hard the silverware clattered. Twisting one of his arms behind his back, she put enough strain on the bone to let him know that she meant business.

“So sorry for this interruption, ladies and gentlemen, but this will only take a moment,” she announced with a flashing smile to the other patrons in the dining room. “Where’s Tommy Shelby, Sabini?”

“Get the fuck off me you–”

She cut him off by putting a little more strain on his arm. “Just a little more pressure, Mr. Sabini, and I break your arm. Bad enough that you’ll probably need a sling for at least two weeks, maybe more. And I doubt that you want to have to go around town explaining to everyone how a tiny little woman broke your arm practically in two. So please, answer my fucking question. Tommy had a meeting with you, after which none of our people have seen him, so where. Is. He?”

His assistant was still coughing, doubled over on the floor. The room was silent.

Sabini let out a laugh into the tablecloth. “The fucking coppers took him.”

“Took him where?”

“I don’t fucking know! They took him outside, that’s all any of us saw.”

“Your coppers?”

“No, all my useless fucking officers are gathered around the king.”

“Hm,” Lucy frowned. “Stay still if you now what’s fucking good for you,” she barked at Sabini’s assistant, who had been trying to subtly reach into his inner pocket. Probably for a gun. He went still, but she kept an eye on him just in case. Raising her voice so that the rest of the crowd in the room could hear, she called out, “if anyone else here saw anything of interest, I suggest you speak up now. Because if I find out later that any of you kept something pertinent from me, I will find you,” she glanced around, listening to the silence. “No one?”

“They put him in a truck,” a man from the back blurted out.

“What truck?” Lucy asked, head cocked. The man shrugged.

“I don’t know…it was black. Didn’t have any markings on it.”

Shit. Sabini started to laugh. “You and your boss are done, you little fucking Gypsy slut–arghhhhhhhhhhh!” the scream that Sabini let out as she snapped his arm was almost louder than the crack. She tossed him to the floor. Straightening, she reached into her pocket and tossed a coin across the room to the man who had spoken up.

“Thanks.”

And then she swept out the room in a whirl of her black coat and red curls.

∗ ∗ ∗

The grave stared back at him, yawning and open and endless. Tommy stared at it with a combination of longing and disdain. He supposed that at least a part of him had always hoped for a funeral by fire. Not because he was traditional, but because the idea of being sealed in under the ground for the rest of eternity made his skin crawl.

Tearing his eyes away from the grave, he looked around, at the patch of dirt surrounding them, and the field beyond. He wondered if anyone would ever find him, or if he would be missing forever. Lost.

No, Lucy would find him, eventually. She would never stop until she had. Maybe she would dig him up, free him of the dirt one last time and burn him like he wanted. He could see her already, crying and shaking and digging frantically, as if she dug fast enough, she could bring him back to life.

He wondered if Grace would be with her. Watching from the car, perhaps. Or maybe with the news of his death, she would go off, be with her husband. Tell the lie that he had already suggested she tell. His child would grow up never knowing who their real father was.

Perhaps selfishly, he wished that they would stay together. Grace would be okay, he supposed. She had her husband and other family. Lucy didn’t have anyone. He was all she had; he knew that. It had always been a worry of his; what would happen to her without him. Maybe she’d bonded enough with May that she would be willing to take her in. Or she and Grace could go off together. With his child. That way, there would at least be a small piece of him still with them.

Swallowing hard, Tommy glanced at the three men tasked with delivering him to hell. “Were any of you boys in France?” he asked. None of them answered. “Allow a man a cigarette?” he wasn’t going to fight them, or make things difficult. There was no point, anymore.

“La Somme. Blackwoods,” one of them said.

“The Somme. The bulge,” Tommy said. The man nodded in permission.

“Smoke.”

He pulled his cigarettes from his pocket, placing one between his lips. Then pulled out his matches, shaking his head. “So fucking close,” he whispered, lighting a match and raising it to his cigarette. “So fucking close,” he said, to the man closest to him. He turned his back on the grave, unable to stomach looking at it anymore, tiling his head up to the sky and closing his eyes. “Oh, and there’s a woman. Yeah. A woman…who I love,” red curls, and green eyes flashing behind his closed eyelids. And another woman. Who I also love, he added silently in his head. Blonde hair and dimpled cheeks when she smiled…he saw them plain as day. Maybe he really could have had them both. Just him, his girls, and their baby. All four of them together. He wanted to cry. “And I got close,” he opened his eyes. “Nearly got fucking everything!” he shouted the last two words to the sky in anguish.

Behind him, he could hear a gun cock. Tommy closed his eyes, letting his head drop, taking a drag of his cigarette, he turned back around to face that infernal hole in the ground. “Oh, what the fuck,” he muttered, taking one final, drag from his cigarette and throwing it to the ground. None of it would all matter in a minute or two, anyway. “Get it done, boys,” he walked to the edge of the hole, pulled out his pocket watch and dropped it in.

“Comrade, we have our orders,” the one who’d given him permission to smoke said. “You know how it is.”

“I know how it is,” he acknowledged. One of them pushed him to his knees, and all three aimed their guns at his head. Tommy closed his eyes, and prepared for the deep, forever peace of death to take him. “In the bleak midwinter.”

A foot suddenly pressed into his shoulder, pushing him sideways and into the grave, and there was a crack of two gunshots, in quick succession, going off. Tommy curled in on himself, hands held up to his head in a protective instinct. One of the men fell to the ground, but the other slid into the hole with him, face down, the back of his head a mess of blood and splattered brains.

The gunfire had barely even ceased sounding, and the third man, the one who had shoved him into the hole, was speaking. “At some point in the near future Mr. Churchill will want to speak with you in person, Mr. Shelby,” he still had his gun half raised at Tommy. “He has a job for you. We will be in touch.”

Tommy just stared up at him, truly speechless, still laying in the grave that had been meant for him.

“Get out of the grave, you tinker!” the man said when Tommy didn’t move. “Be on your fucking way.”

Staggering, struggling slightly, Tommy managed to heave himself out of the hole, stumbling to his feet. He stared for only a moment more before he began to walk away.

He tripped, landing face first into the dirt, crouching in it, grabbing fistfuls of the stuff, pounding his hands into the ground, screaming, and sobbing. “Fuck!” he managed to haul himself to his feet, still sobbing. His face crumbled with his tears the remainder of the walk, hands shaking, lips wobbling as they pressed together. Only crying harder as he realized just how ready he had been to die.

∗ ∗ ∗

“Is there a Miss. Lucy Winters here?” shouted a voice. Lucy looked up from where she’d been leaning against the bar, not drinking her whiskey, but instead just staring at it blankly, trying to puzzle out just where those coppers, or whoever they were, had taken Tommy. She’d continued to ask around, practically begging anyone she bumped into for information about a black, unmarked truck. No one had seen anything.

“That’s me,” she said, raising a hand, as if she were in class and just had her name called.

“There’s a telephone call for you,” the man in the doorway said. Lucy nodded, downing the remainder of her drink and heading to the booths where the phones were.

“We’ll be closing soon, miss,” the bartender said. Nodding, she absentmindedly tossed enough money down to pay her tab. Most people had already left the races, leaving only a few handfuls of patrons and mostly workers milling about. The man who had told her about the phone call gestured to one of the booths, and she picked up the phone.

“Thank you,” she dismissed him. Taking a deep breath, preparing herself for the worst, she raised the phone to her ear.

“Hello?”

“Lucy?”

“Tommy,” she almost sagged with relief. “Tommy, where are you? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he cleared his throat. “I’m…at a phone booth right now. Can you have one of the boys come and get me?”

“Yeah, yeah, one moment,” she pulled out a pen and the notebook she kept in her pocket. “Okay, go,” she scrawled down the address he gave her. “What happened?”

“I got picked up by some men I’m assuming Campbell hired. One of them was working for Churchill. He let me go.”

“I see.”

“I’ll talk to you more about it when I get back.”

“Okay. I’ll see you soon.”

“Yeah. Wait, Lucy, is Grace still there?”

“I sent her to wait at my flat when it became clear that we couldn’t find you,” she said. “She’s safe.”

“Okay, good. Good. Thank you. I’ll see you soon.”

“Bye,” she listened as the phone went dead, slumping backwards into the side of the booth, raising a hand to her eyes, breaths shaky.

∗ ∗ ∗

She winced at the way that the car screeched to a halt. Tommy was leaning against a red phone booth, smoking with his brows raised, blue eyes somewhat horrified as he’d watched her drive chaotically towards him down the road.

“Hi,” she smiled at him from behind the wheel.

“Dear God,” was all he said.

“It wasn’t that bad.”

“Love,” he took a step forward. “You just very strongly reinforced my reasoning for why I never, ever let you drive.”

She blew a raspberry at him. “Well, all the boys had left Epsom already by the time you called, so it was either me or you walk back to Birmingham.”

“Please tell me that you didn't run over anyone on the way here.”

“I’m not that bad!”

He gave her a look. “Scoot.”

She huffed. “Spoilsport,” she began to scoot over so he could get in the driver’s seat. “I did break Sabini’s arm though.”

“You what?”

“I was trying to find out where you’d gone! And he was being very nasty.”

“...Did he scream?” Tommy asked. Lucy grinned.

“Like a little baby.”

Something in Tommy’s smile wavered, turning his face away as he closed the door and started up the car again. Lucy leaned forward, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing his cheek.

“I’m glad you’re okay. I was worried.”

He shot her a weak smile. “Sorry. I’m alright.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

She lit a cigarette, letting her arm dangle out the window as they began the drive back home. “So what’s this big secret that you and Grace have been keeping from me all day?” she asked, as nonchalantly as she could manage. Tommy tensed beside her, wiping at his eyes, wetting his lips. “Tommy?” she asked, beginning to grow more nervous.

“Grace is pregnant,” he said, not looking at her.

Lucy just stared at him in disbelief, feeling as though all the air had been punched from her lungs. She swallowed once, twice. Her hands had started to tremble.

“Yours?” she managed to choke out the question. Tommy nodded.

“Yes.”

“Oh,” was all she said, and looked down at her lap. Blinking her eyes open wide, to try to keep herself from crying. Well, fuck. Fuck. She supposed that was that, then. It was all over. He would go off with Grace and their child…begin their life together as a real family. She doubted that would involve keeping a concubine. Even though she’d do it, she realized. If they asked her to.

It didn’t matter. So she forced the thought away. No point in hoping for an offer that would never, ever come. Surely there would be no room for her there. Neither of them would probably want her anymore.

“Hey,” she forced herself to smile, nudging him like she would normally. Despite the fact that it felt as though her heart was being torn viciously and hastily from her chest. “Congratulations.”

Tommy shot her a nervous smile. “We didn’t have much of a chance to talk about it after she told me.”

“Ah, you’ll be fine,” she said, fully believing it. He and Grace would be good for one another. And they loved each other. Tommy would come up with some solution, regarding the husband. It would all work out. When Tommy wanted something to happen, he could all but will it into existence.

Fuck, she was going to miss him so, so much. She turned her head away again, feigning glancing out the window to hide the tears gleaming in her eyes before she managed to force them back.

“Lucy…” he started to say.

“Don’t worry about it,” she said, before he could continue. She didn’t think that she could handle actually having to listen to him break up with her. It would probably shatter her in half.

God, it was only just more salt in the wound that it had to be a pregnancy that drove them apart. The one thing that she could never give him. Not that he even knew that. She supposed, if she were looking for some silver lining in the whole thing, it would be that she was finally free of the obligation to tell him that little piece of information, hanging over their relationship like the blade of a guillotine all this time. She’d always figured it would be that which would do them in. Maybe, in a way, she’d been right.

“I just think that we should talk about–”

“You should probably talk with Grace first. Before anything else,” she said, hoping that would dissuade him from continuing with what she was already certain he was going to say.

Tommy’s hand reached out to take hers, thumb stroking along the skin of her knuckles. Lucy stared down at it with longing desperation. It all made sense, then. The way he’d kept looking at her all day, touching her hand…telling her that he loved her. He’d known that their time together was coming to a close. That he was going to choose Grace. Because of course he was. She was having his child. He loved her. It was what made sense. Lucy needed to begin to let him go. To let them both go.

And yet, for the remainder of the ride home, she did not let go of his hand.

∗ ∗ ∗

Lucy followed Tommy and Michael dejectedly into the office. Tommy had wanted to swing by before heading to her apartment, to check if he had won his bet with Polly over whether Michael would stay or not.

Leaning against the doorframe, she watched him wistfully. She still felt raw, over everything, and really just wanted to go off to some place on her own so that she could have a good cry over the death of the only love she’d ever really known. Tommy poured three glasses of whiskey for them and she finally forced herself to travel deeper into his office, taking the glass he offered her, greatly needing it.

Perhaps what hurt even more was that Tommy seemed so…nonchalant about it. Like it didn’t cause him any sort of distress at all that their relationship was over. It wasn’t like she’d expected him to be weeping on the floor or anything, but a little more solemness would have been nice.

Maybe she really had been nothing more than a hole for him to fuck all these years.

Tommy raised his glass, and clinked it with Michael, then with her. She could feel his eyes on her as she swallowed the amber liquid down. He kept looking at her strangely, like he was trying to puzzle something out. He sat down in his chair, eyes tired as he leaned back in it.

“I’ve got some ideas, Michael. For the future of the company. And also…I’m planning on getting married.”

When her eyes darted up to him, he was smiling at the ceiling. She felt her shoulders slump, but did her best to mask it. Tommy was having a baby with and planning on getting married to the woman he loved. She needed to be happy for him. For both of them. Even if she still loved them. Even if she couldn’t be a part of their relationship anymore.

Looking down, she picked at a flake of bright red nail polish, and tried to hide away the agonized feeling of her heart breaking.

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