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moeitsu · 23 days

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The Tie Which Linked My Soul To Thee

Summary: The battle begins, and the past is revealed.

Ao3 Wattpad Masterlist - All Chapters Ch.1 Ch.2 Ch.3 Ch.4 Ch.5 Ch.7 Ch.8 Ch.9 Ch.10

Warning: Graphic depictions of violence, blood and gore. Tags: Arthur Morgan/Original Female Character, Widowed, Original Character, Mutual Pining, Slow Build, Eventual Smut, Eventual Romance, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, High Honor Arthur Morgan, Friends to Lovers, Child Loss, Trauma, Canon-Typical Violence, Arthur Morgan Does Not Have Tuberculosis, Arthur Morgan Deserves Happiness, Chubby Arthur Morgan, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence

Ch 6 - As When The Summer Days Were Nigh

“I’d known death since I was a child. It’s everywhere. In every form you can imagine. And a few your worst nightmare couldn’t muster. As if death was not the result of accidents and disease, death was its own disease. But it had never touched me. It had never placed its rotten finger on my heart. Yes, freedom has fangs. And it sunk them in me. ” ~ Elsa Dutton 1883

Lorena's hooves pounded against the slope, carrying Kate down into the valley where a few wagons had come to a halt, isolated from the main caravan. Raiders swarmed around them, gunfire echoing in the night as chaos unfolded. With the sun sinking below the horizon, Kate strained to discern the attackers' numbers in the darkness.

Six horsemen emerged from the west, joined by several more riding over the slope from the north. Kate's mind raced as she tried to make sense of the situation. What are raiders doing this far south in the plains? She asked herself, trying to plan a course of action.

They used the cover of night to their advantage, weaving between trees and shrubs, it was difficult to get a clear shot of them. But she witnessed Charles and Arthur spring into action. Their guns blazed as they lit up the night with each round sending orange sparks into the darkness. As Lorena closed the distance, Kate spotted two wagons left behind: one belonging to John and Abigail, and the other a supply wagon driven by Lenny and Sean. She knew the raiders would target the supplies and likely attempt to steal their horses too.

This left the fighting to Arthur, Charles, and Javier. Who turned back at the sound of the commotion. Lenny and Sean leapt into the wagon for cover as they began shooting blind into the night, the horses crying out in fear. Kate couldn't see Abigail, and she prayed she was well hidden in the wagon with Jack. She made headway to his wagon first.

She pulled her rifle from her saddle and called out to John, who was firing round after round from his revolver, doing no good against the fast riding raiders.

“John!” she shouted, catching his attention, he looked down from his seat in the wagon.

“Kate?” He said, taken back by the sight of her, “you need to find cover!” Concern laced his voice.

She ignored his statement, holding the rifle up for him, “take this, it's a better shot. Aim for the shrubs, they're using them as cover.” She urged.

John nodded and took the weapon without hesitation, quickly counting the rounds in the ammunition, “thanks, what will you use?” He asked, already getting in position to take aim.

“Don’t worry about me,” she answered, determination in her voice, “protect your family.”

Lorena brought her around to the back of the wagon and she peered inside, sure enough Abigail was clutching Jack to her breast, white knuckled and face scrunched in silent fear. As if she was hoping this was just a bad dream they would wake from. Jack, trying to be brave, trembled in his mother's arms. Without hesitation, Kate leaped into the wagon, placing a comforting hand on Abigail's shoulder. She startled at her touch, “easy Abigail, it's just me, you need to take this.” She held out her own revolver. Abigail opened her eyes and shook her head with a sob. Kate's heart throbbed at the sight of her.

"I’m not letting go of him!" she cried, her voice quivering with emotion. "When is this going to end?" Her plea carried the weight of past traumas, threatening to overwhelm her.

Knowing they had no time to waste, Kate pressed the revolver into Abigail's trembling hand. She needed a means to defend herself if the worst was going to happen. Jack whimpered at the sounds of gunfire coming from John at the seat of the wagon. She gave him a reassuring look, “be brave for your momma okay? If anybody comes, you shout for me and I’ll come runnin’,” she added with a smile, placing a hand on his little head. He nodded in understanding.

Lorena waited at the back of the wagon as Kate mounted her and took off towards the fray. She needed to come up with a plan, and fast. She gave her firearms to the Marston family. Which left her with only close range weapons. She reached into her saddle bag and pulled out a tomahawk. It had been a long time since she’s used an old weapon of war.

With determination she nudged her mare in the belly and took off. The familiar leather grip of her tomahawk left her with a sense of bitter nostalgia. Memories of an old friend came flooding back, and old instincts she had long buried bubbled to the surface.

In the distance, she spotted Arthur, locked in combat with a raider. His skill and ferocity were undeniable as he dispatched two foes with swift precision. Kate watched, her heart heavy with unspoken truths.

Arthur is wrestling with a giant, Charles' words sounded in her mind. She had faced her own giants, and kept them at bay like a hunter taming a wild beast. She never got the chance to tell him. She would release her giant tonight, and if they survived, she vowed to share her secrets with Arthur, laying bare the depths of her soul.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

Under the cloak of night, time seemed to stretch endlessly, though mere minutes had passed. The raiders fell one by one, a testament to their careful strategy. It dawned on the others that shooting wildly was futile; they needed to close the gap.

For Kate, the chaos played to her strengths. While she lacked skill with a gun, in close combat, she was unparalleled. The sickening crunch of bone echoed as her tomahawk met the skull of a raider, sending him crashing to the ground. The scene before her, once familiar yet now unsettling, reminded her of the darkness she had left behind. Yet, there was no joy in the violence; only relief that she no longer found pleasure in such brutality.

With only a few foes left standing, Arthur's gaze found hers, his worry palpable. She reassured him with a nod, urging him to focus on the task at hand.

Scanning the chaotic scene, Kate spotted a lone raider sneaking up on John's wagon, his focus fixed on protecting his brother. With a swift movement, she sprang into action.

She hollered to get the man's attention, as well as Johns. It didn't matter who took him down, as long as he was stopped. Closing the distance, she gripped her weapon high, readying for the strike. The raider turned just as Kate swung, narrowly missing his head as a shot rang out. She was unsure if it was John’s or the bandits until pain shot through her side. The man barely squeezed by her horse and the wagon, and took off in the opposite direction. Ignoring the pain, Kate followed.

Arthur joined the chase, and together they pursued the raider. Lorena surged forward, fueled by the thrill of the chase. Leaning down to her horse's ear, Kate whispered, "Feels like old times, huh, girl?" Lorena snorted in agreement. Despite her clingy and skittish nature. She was bred to be a war horse, and in her blood she fought just as savagely as her rider.

She closed in and brought her mare tauntingly close to the last man. With a swift motion she collided the blade with the man's ankle, nearly cutting his own foot off, causing him to fall out of the saddle. He did not reach for his weapon, as he used his last round in an attempt to kill her, instead he lay on his back and put his hands out in mercy.

Kate dismounted and trudged over to him.

“I-I’m unarmed!” He pleaded, “please miss you wouldn’t kill an unarmed man!”

She tossed the tomahawk to the ground and the man eased for a moment, until she pulled her hunting knife out of her belt. His eyes widened and he tried to stand, but his ankle was only holding on by a bit of flesh.

Arthur finally caught up to them and dismounted, “don’t kill him yet Kate, we need to find out who they are. They could be O’Driscolls.” Kate ignored him, the pain in her side igniting into a blazing fire. The metallic tang of her own blood filled her senses, but she pushed past it with a fierce glare.

“Don’t look like an O'Driscoll to me,” she rasped. Fighting the urge to drive her knife into his belly. Echoes of an old mantra rang in her ears, “our job is to ensure our enemies fear is greater than their greed.”

“I-I aint an O’Driscoll, we’re just a couple of horse thieves. That’s all,” the man pleaded, using his forearms to distance himself from her.

The world felt dizzy, her memories of her past began mixing with the present. “That’s all?” She mocked, “you would take these people’s lives,” her voice hoarse, “just for a few horses?” Before he could answer she forcefully kicked him in the belly, hard enough to break a few ribs. The man rolled onto his stomach and spit up blood.

In a flash, Kate mounted the man from behind, gripping a fistfull of his hair and forcefully pulling back towards her chest. She placed the knife at the edge of his throat, Arthur saw the fire in her eyes as she ended the man's life, sickeningly slow.

As she drew the blade over his neck she muttered the words low in his ear, “what you take from the land will be taken from you. Know that I am the land, and the land is killing you.”

As the raider choked on his own blood, Kate dropped his head in the dirt. The wound was not deep enough to kill him quickly. He would asphyxiate for the next several hours, a combination of bleeding out and choking to death. He would teeter on the brink of consciousness, not knowing if he is alive or dead. It was a slow sentence, a merciless one. It was pure torture.

Arthur stood in stunned silence, his gaze fixed on Kate. He had witnessed his fair share of violence, and dealt with his own. But the intensity in her eyes was unfamiliar, unsettling. She seemed transformed, a wildness emanating from her like a primal force.

“I didn’t know you could fight like that,” he said awkwardly, unsure if it was the right thing to say at the moment. He had seen a different side of her. And he had a feeling it was one that she was clearly trying to keep buried. He couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted between them, and he was left grappling with the uncertainty of what lay ahead.

Kate retrieved her tomahawk and mounted her horse, her movements strained with pain. "There's a lot you don't know about me, Morgan," she replied tersely, her usual sharpness replaced by a somber tone. "We need to keep moving," she added, urging her horse forward. She felt sick to her stomach, the pain mixed with rage and shame and fear. A whirlwind of emotions, it had been years since she killed somebody. She vowed to give that life up. And now, she was riding off with a bunch of outlaws. Leaving behind a bloody battlefield. Arthur watched her ride off, a knot of worry forming in his stomach.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

They rode past Dewberry Creek and down to Clemens Point. A hidden spot on the peninsula of the lake, only a few miles from Rhodes. It was a decent hiding spot. As the last of the caravan pulled in, the members who made it ahead of the chaos came rushing out to greet them.

As Kate was the last to reach Clemens Point, the weight of the recent events hung heavy on her shoulders. She gazed out at the lake, its surface reflecting the dim light of the moonlit sky. A secluded spot on the beach offered a brief respite from the chaos that had engulfed them, and Kate welcomed the solitude.

Dismounting her horse, she felt the exhaustion settle into her bones like a heavy blanket. Her hands, streaked with dirt and blood, trembled slightly as she reached for the saddle buckles. With a heavy sigh, she removed the burden from Lorena's back, the weight of it suddenly feeling unbearable. As Lorena trotted off to the water's edge, letting out a contented sigh as the coolness soothed her weary joints, Kate couldn’t help but chuckle. Perhaps she had pushed her loyal mare a bit too hard today.

Grabbing a brush from her saddlebag, Kate set to work cleaning Lorena's coat, the rhythmic motion a comforting distraction from the chaos that had unfolded. In the distance, she could hear the other members of the gang recounting the night's events, their voices a mix of concern, exhaustion, and celebration.

As a pair of hooves approached, Kate knew without looking that it was Arthur. Dismounting, he joined her by the water's edge, letting Belle cool herself alongside Lorena. "Mind if I join ya?" he asked quietly, uncertainty lacing his voice. Kate nodded in response, and Arthur settled onto the sand beside her, kicking off his boots to let the water lap at his feet.

The air was thick with humidity, and the sounds of frogs and cicadas filling the night. It felt strange to be going back east, but somehow it didn’t bother her that her journey had been interrupted.

After a moment of silence, Kate broached the subject that had been weighing on her mind. "You wanna tell me what happened in Valentine?" she asked, her voice tinged with curiosity and concern.

Arthur sighed heavily, his gaze distant as he recounted the events of the day. "It started with the train job. The law showed up fast, too fast, and we barely made it out of there," he explained. "Cornwall's men nearly killed John the next morning. We made it out, but not without killing half the town.”

Kate shook her head in disbelief, her heart heavy with the weight of Arthur's words. Before she could respond, Arthur spoke again, his voice filled with remorse. "I'm so sorry, Kate. I never wanted to drag you into all this mess. Especially after what Micah did," he added with a bitter scoff. "I don’t know why you turned back."

"I didn't do it just for you," Kate replied after a moment, her gaze meeting Arthur's with unwavering determination. "I did it for Abigail and her boy. From one mother to another." Arthur looked at her, a flicker of surprise in his eyes. He caught the new information, but his heart fluttered at the idea that she turned back for him as well.

“I’ve never seen a woman fight like that, it was,” he trailed and Kate was the one to interrupt this time.

“I know, you don't have to say it. I’m not exactly proud of it,” she looked down in shame.

Arthur offered a warm smile, “I was gonna say it was real brave.”

She smiled sadly and shook her head, “still don’t make it right.”

“It was either us or them Kate, don’t beat yourself up about it,” Arthur reassured her. “You know, I’d understand if you still want to leave. But we could surely use some of that bravery around here.”

Kate nodded and took a deep breath, steeling herself to share something important. “I’ll stay Arthur,” she began, “but, there’s some things I think you should know about me.”

“We all come from different places, your past is your past,” he said sincerely, “If you don’t wanna share that I don’t want you to think ya have to.” Her heart warmed at the gesture, he was being considerate. After everything he saw he would still grant her the privacy of her past, but that wasn't her plan.

“No, I want to tell you,” Kate paused, collecting her thoughts, “I think you’ll understand me better. And after what happened at the Downes ranch, I owe it to you.”

Arthur’s curiosity peaked, the conversation from a fortnight weighed heavy on his mind. And he wanted to know how her story tied into that. His mind already raced with assumptions, after seeing the way she fought he couldn't help but wonder if she was on the run from the law too. Or something worse.

“Alright,” he settled back against the sand, giving her his full attention. “I’m here to listen, Kate.”

With a heavy sigh, she decided to start from the beginning. “I’ve known death since I was a child. It began with a railway accident in Boston that took my mother and little sister from me, leaving behind my father and older brother. At the time, my father owned a ranch where we raised dairy cattle. He didn’t take their deaths well, and fell into a depression. My brother and I couldn't keep up with the work alone, so we were forced to sell and move. Thankfully, a family friend took us in on their farm. It was there I met my husband, and for a while, we were sweet on one another.”

Kate recalled the memories, her heart flooding with grief, “we lived there a few years. And when my brother was old enough he joined a mining company, and it was another accident that took his life too. It sent my father over the deep end, and so he hung himself in the barn. Like he suddenly forgot he still had a living child.”

Arthur's face softened, understanding the weight of her losses. To him, it sounded like Kate had a proper family—one that truly loved and cared for each other.

“I got married the next year, and finally things felt like they were turning for the better. My husband and I built a little ranch together. In a few years, we welcomed a baby girl into our home.” Her voice choked with emotion. “My life felt as perfect as it could get. I miss my family dearly, but I felt like I was carrying on their memory by starting my own.”

Arthur didn't want to think about where her story was going; it was painfully familiar to him. Kate shifted in the sand, wincing as a sharp pain shot up her side. She had forgotten about the bullet in her flesh. The area had gone numb, and the mixed feelings of grief and searing pain caused tears to stream down her cheeks.

“Lorena didn’t even make it through her first summer before disease took her from me, and as if death couldn't have enough, it took my husband from me too.” Her voice shook with pain.

Arthur sighed, his heart full of sympathy as he observed Kate's emotional turmoil. "Oh, Kate," he said softly, reaching out to comfort her. However, his concern heightened as he noticed the sand around her stained red. "Kate, you're bleeding!" His voice rose with worry.

She nodded, wincing as she reached around her side. "I got shot," she answered, her voice trembling.

"Why didn’t you say anything?" Arthur was already getting up to inspect the wound. "Let me see."

Kate untucked her shirt and lifted it up for Arthur to examine. The bullet had entered just above her hip bone, lodged in the fatty area of her waist. "How bad is it?" she asked, her voice still shaky.

With gentle fingers, Arthur prodded at the wound. It was angry and swollen, and she winced at his touch. He concluded that the bullet was still inside, "the bullet’s still in there, but I think I can get it out. I don't think it hit anything important," he noted, assessing the severity of her injury.

Kate nodded and lifted her shirt further, revealing deep faded scars scattered across her back in the moonlight. “Jesus, Kate,” Arthur muttered softly in surprise. He paused before touching her again, afraid that she might break beneath him like an old clay pot. "What happened?" His voice was as soft as a whisper, fearful of what her answer might reveal.

Closing her eyes, Kate winced once again as Arthur’s hands returned to her wound. “I’ll tell ya once you get this thing out of me,” she replied.

Arthur nodded and, with a gentle hand, held the front of her waist while using his other hand to extract the bullet like it was a cyst, squeezing it out agonizingly slow. Instinctively, she grabbed onto his hand around her waist for support, finding solace in his warmth.

“There, got it,” Arthur said, a hint of pride in his voice as he handed Kate the small pebble that had caused her so much discomfort. “Think of it like a souvenir,” he joked.

“I’ve got plenty of souvenirs,” she mused, tossing the bullet into the lake. Arthur understood she was referring to the scars.

“Come back to my tent,” Arthur suggested, “I’ll stitch you up while you continue to catch me up on the last 10 years of your life.” His tone was playful, an attempt to lighten her mood. Arthur could already tell that her life had been incredibly hard, and seeing the marks on her back only confirmed his fears. Kate nodded, and Arthur helped her walk back to his tent.

To her surprise, the camp was put together rather quickly. Most of the members had settled down around the fire or had gone to bed. Arthur’s things were off to the side of the small clearing, offering him some privacy. His wagon had not been completely unloaded, but there was a cot, as well as a milk crate and an oil lamp. It was no hospital but it would have to do. He gently helped her sit down on his cot while he rummaged through his belongings for the right supplies to stitch her wound. Kate took the opportunity to continue her story.

“Funny thing about this land,” she started, “our constitution says all men are created equal. But I’m a woman, a widow. They tell us our land is free, but what freedom do I have? I cannot own land, can’t take out a loan, can’t purchase anything in my own name. Choices come with freedom, but I had no choices at all.”

Arthur gave her a sympathetic look, he wasn't always proud of his sex. Most of the men in his life were not good role models, and he himself couldn't understand why some men treated women the way that they did.

“I had an aunt in Southern California, I never met her but my father had talked about her growing up. So I wrote to her, in a handful of pages I explained everything. And begged her to let me live with her,” she inhaled sharply as Arthur cleaned her wound with alcohol.

“I was a sorry sight,” she remarked, “I was so terrified to be on my own, and travel across the entire country just to avoid being sent to a nunnery or sold to another man as his bride. I had enough money to get me to Virginia, and after that I had to find my own way.”

In the dim light Arthur sat crouched on the ground beneath her while Kate sat in his cot. She looked down at him, working diligently and so tenderly to clean her wound as painless as possible. His gaze was fixed and intent while he worked, but Kate knew he was taking in every word she said.

“So I joined a caravan that was heading west to Arizona. I figured they could at least get me close enough. Only problem was they were all German, and had very little knowledge of how to travel across the American west," Kate said with a bitter chuckle, “there were a few ranchers that came with us, and we tried to teach them what we could. Most of them couldn't even ride a horse!” She exclaimed.

Arthur blew out a breath, “oh they were doomed from the start.”

“It started with 72 of us, and we began to lose people as soon as we hit the Appalachian trail. Their carelessness became contagious; sickness and snakes, bad horses and poison berries. But of all the perils awaiting us, there was one word so feared it was barely spoken and barely whispered… the river.”

Arthurs blood went cold. He couldn’t imagine the fear and terror as innocent families were ripped apart by dark waters. Punished simply for seeking a better life. The land was more merciless than any outlaw he knew. He noticed Kate relax under his touch, he worked gently as he ran the pad of his thumb over the flesh of her scars. Small bumps and lines, like tiny mountains in a cartography map. Like these scars mapped her history. Where she stood tall and brave in the face of danger. He admired her, being young and alone in this world was terrifying. He knew that feeling well.

“The Kanawha river nearly took all of us that day. We came out the other side with barely 15 people,” Kate shook her head at the memory, “I thought we had seen the worst. But it was only the beginning, Arthur.”

He looked up at the sound of his name, her voice trembling with fear. Their eyes locked and he saw a broken girl looking back at him. They shared a silent moment of understanding. He had heard stories from Appalachia, it was something a child could not muster even in their worst nightmares. Reaching for her arm, he squeezed her gently, “Kate,” he said softly, like he was crooning a baby, “you don’t have to tell me if the memories hurt.”

Warmth spread over her cheeks as silent tears fell, her heart was in her throat. It had been so long since she talked to someone about it. For the first time in years she felt like Arthur was the only person truly seeing her.

“We had crossed into Lakota hunting territory,” she continued, “there was a feud over the land between the tribe and the Virginia government. But it didn’t matter for us, the Indians came anyway. They killed all the men, leaving only myself and two other girls. I couldn’t do anything but watch it happen. I was no use with a gun and I had no idea where to go. So they took me.”

“And I knew I was going to die.”

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guardmagicskull · 1 year

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Woah boy Anon you have no idea what you've just done

Basically the first change is that Zeus is actually a good caring God who wants to protect and help people, and that ended up having consequences for pretty much all other characters.

Zeus takes the form of a teacher at Harvey's University after he's had his accident, getting him the support he needs and harshly punishing those who bully him. Harvey with his help doesn't become bitter and vengeful, instead insisting that he's going to prove everyone wrong by doing good for the world through science and robotics.

Zeus turns into first mate onboard an honest merchant ship and convinces the captain to let Crawfish (who's just a kid at the time) becomes a junior officer. He very quickly proves his skill with ships, rises through the ranks, and eventually when the old captain retires Crawfish is given command of the ship instead. When his home port begins to struggle financially, he uses the ship to bring them supplies

Zeus makes himself curator of an art museum, and makes sure to catch Widow on her very first heist. Instead of turning her in, he encourages her to keep improving her art instead of stealing it from others, and also suggests that if she's good enough to sneak past all that security she could have a future as a crimefighter. She takes him up on it, and with his guidance becomes a secret agent using her public persona as a famous artist as cover.

But Mordred is the one things change the most drastically for.

Mordred's childhood going by King Arthur myths was really not good: His father is King Arthur (making Mordred kind of a prince actually!), and there's a prophecy that Mordred will grow up to overthrow him and destroy the kingdom. Arthur wants to stop that from happening but doesn't know which child is Mordred, only that he'll be born on May 1. So he finds all children born on that day and sends them out onto the sea to drown, where Mordred is the only survivor.

In my normal idea of the world, I'd imagine this is when he washes up on the shores of Astroknights where he later finds out the truth and tries to become king as it's "his right".

In the Hero AU Zeus instead decides to intervene because this whole situation is messed up. He takes baby Mordred to Astroknights himself and gives him to the King and Queen. They're horrified that another king would do something like that to his own child, and adopt Mordred as their own. He grows up as a prince, and becomes a brave and honourable knight.

He sees Elyana as his little sister and they're very close. But as they grow up, people start to pay less and less attention to Elyana in favour of Mordred since he's the oldest child and the one who will become ruler. He also begins to spend less and less time with her as he's busy learning how to be king. She's alone and upset, feeling like everyone has abandoned her.

She begins to resent Mordred for having "abandoned her just like everyone else", and angry that he "stole the throne" from her. Eventually after they get into a huge fight she escapes into space.

Everyone assumes Elyana died in space, and Mordred is absolutely heartbroken feeling like all of it is his fault. The cult pops up believing she actually survived, and Mordred joins them because he's desperate to find Elyana and being her back home safely. Instead when he manages to contact her she attacks the kingdom and takes him away because "if you're gone I can be queen".

The player rescues Mordred, and Astroknights mostly plays out the same. Except despite everything he still cares for her, and when the portal is about to close leaving her stranded in space he tries to turn back for her at the last second.

He has an arm and half his face in the portal when it closes on him. He turns himself into a cyborg to survive.

Following all of that, he doesn't want anything more to do with the kingdom. He's extremely upset and just wants to run away from all of it. He gets into a tiny boat and lets it carry him off into the sea not even knowing if he'll survive or not. He drifts close enough to the "modern islands" to be rescued.

Black widow is an agent, so she becomes involved in figuring out what the heck happened to this medieval robot man they found adrift at sea.

Harvey is one of the best scientists, so she gets him involved too because he's pretty much the only one who can figure out how to repair Mordred's robotics while he's in the hospital.

Crawfish had a similar situation to Mordred of sailing too far from home and being picked up by modern people, so he gets called in because he's pretty much the only one who can fully empathise with being lost in this strange new world.

Mordred's bad situation brings the four of them together, and they decide to stick together as heroes defending Poptropica.

#poptropica #good guys au #mordred #binary bard #zeus #dr hare #harvey hare #black widow #captain crawfish #long post #very long post #im sorry i got rambling #anyways #some of these drawings are reused #And yeha #A lot of the canon good guys are instead bad guys in this world #basically heroes and villains swithc role

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xxblackballoonxx · 2 years

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Electric: Chapter 11

Modern John Shelby AU

This fic is being posted simultaneously on FanFiction.net and Ao3. Classy smut warning beginning with Chapter 5.

Chapter 10 J&Gem Chats 10 J&Gem Chats 11 Chapter 12

This chapter is fluffy and very steamy at the end ... it's all because of those sunglasses. I'm powerless. I’ve been waiting to write this since I first began this story!

Electric

Chapter 11: Ray-Bans

The weeks between the dreaded anniversary of the accident and Will’s due date were always a weird time for John. He’d process one traumatic event just in time for the next one, and he’d come to accept that nothing would really help beyond just living a day at a time until the dates passed and he could go on with his life again.

This year felt different. He knew the ten year mark would be hard, but he also found it easier to let go of the pain a little more. Maybe it was time passing, the years filling in between the worst night of this life and the now. Learning to live with what happened, to process the grief a little better each day, each month, each year. But mostly, he thought that Gemma being there to help him was the thing making the difference. She saw his pain and his fear without needing an explanation, without him saying a word. To have that kind of connection was healing in a way he never could’ve predicted.

So they’d been trying to make the most of the past few weeks, playing music and staying out late, drinking and laughing, spending every night sleeping next to each other, waking up every morning at either her place or his. It was what his soul had needed for so long, he couldn’t even pinpoint when the need had come back to the surface. To love and be loved like that.

This was how John found himself in his office at The Garrison one morning, forming a plan to take Gemma out that weekend. He wanted it to be fun and something they’d both remember, making the most of every moment.

“Gem, you are gonna fucking love this.” John said aloud, grinning as he copied down information from the computer screen in front of him.

************************************************************************

Friday nights at The Garrison were always busy, it was a rare one when there wasn’t a band or two playing. Tonight, The Cut was headlining, and The Birmingham Shelby crew showed up in full to support Finn.

Gemma stood by the bar, waiting for John to finish checking on a computer problem in the back. Finn and Isiah walked over to her, both clearly buzzing with excitement.

“You boys ready? Gonna be a packed house from what I hear.” Gemma said, greeting the two with a hug each.

“Ready enough, I think.” Isiah responded.

“Carolyn coming?”

“Yeah, she’s coming with some friends.” Finn replied, smiling and looking down.

“Well, we’ll be in the usual spot, so feel free to send her over. Though, Arthur will probably ask her a million questions, so maybe not?” Gemma joked.

Finn laughed and the two headed over to the door to meet some other friends. Gemma leaned against the side of the bar, watching the crowd fill in by the stage, happy to see the band’s following was growing. She felt an arm wrap around her waist and smiled, leaning back.

“I do believe this is the exact part of the bar where we met, love.” John murmured in her ear, his lips against her neck briefly.

“Hottest bartender in all of England.” Gemma said jokingly, but she meant it.

John took her hand and spun her around to face him. They stared at each other for a moment, each thinking back to that night a few months ago, and how much things had changed since then.

Gemma felt her breath hitch as John’s grey blue eyes stared into her, straight into her soul. Something was different about the way he’d looked at her the past few weeks, the way his gaze lingered, the way he touched her. It was somehow even more intense, more on fire, like electricity buzzing through her all the time.

John smiled at her and she smiled back, letting him lead her to the corner booth that the Shelby family always took over. Arthur was sitting with a few of their cousins, and he nodded to the pair as they both slid into the unoccupied side. He watched as John passed Gemma her drink and the way he put his arm around her shoulder, how she leaned into him without a second thought. It was what had kept Arthur from going off the deep end again, once he’d recovered from the vicious hangover he’d given himself at World’s End.

Gemma, always in her element on nights like these, had John entranced, as she gave herself to the music. He watched as she nodded her head to the beat, smiling and closing her eyes during songs she liked. She leaned further back into him during a slower song, resting her hand on his knee, reaching up to hold his hand that was on her shoulder. John kissed her cheek and she closed her eyes, wanting to stay in that moment forever.

************************************************************************

Late the next morning, the Shelby house was quiet when John woke up. Gemma was passed out next to him, her head tucked into his arm. He had to appreciate her commitment to sleep, when she slept, she slept hard. And it was comforting to her somehow, that she could sleep that deeply with John next to her. It was complete trust.

He slipped his arm carefully out from under Gemma’s head, pulled the blanket up over her shoulder, and went into the bathroom to shower. Gemma woke up a few minutes later, feeling around for her glasses on the nightstand. She lay half awake, staring at the ceiling, until the bathroom door opened.

John stood in the doorway with a towel wrapped low around his waist. Gemma looked over and grinned, taking in every part of the scene in front of her. He smiled back and winked at her, letting her look as long as she wanted.

“My hope for that towel to just drop to the ground can’t be underestimated, J.” Gemma finally said, smirking.

He moved his hand to undo the towel, letting it fall as he walked towards the bed. Gemma shrieked as he shook his wet hair towards her and then laid on top of her, propping himself up with one arm.

“Is this what you wanted, sweetheart?” John said, his voice low, looking down at her as his hand slid up her leg.

“You know it is.” Gemma replied.

John kissed her and rubbed her hip with his thumb. The sun came through the window and lit the side of his face. Gemma reached up and softly touched the freckles illuminated by the beam. She was pretty sure she’d never get over how devastatingly beautiful he was. I love you, she thought to herself. John something flicker in her gaze and let the moment linger.

“Ok, time to get up. Time for your surprise.” John mumbled into her chest, letting his head drop for a moment.

Gemma pouted and then let John pull her up into a sitting position.

An hour later, the pair were walking down the street towards the edge of Small Heath. John had only told Gemma to wear comfortable clothes, not letting any other details slip about what he had planned. She was content just walking down the street with him on a sunny day, but was also dying to know where they were going.

“I gotta say, J, I’m demanding you wear those sunglasses any time there’s a speck of sunlight. They look too good on you, and it’s doing things to me.” Gemma commented lightly, holding in a smile.

John stopped on the edge of the sidewalk and pulled her into him, close.

“That’s a very important piece of information I’m going to keep in mind. How am I making you feel now?” John replied, whispering the last part into her ear.

“Like I can’t wait to be home later and relive the towel moment from this morning.” Gemma responded.

He raised the sunglasses and gave her a devilish look, and then put them back down into place.

“I can absolutely factor that kind of activity into today’s plan.” John said smirking.

They set off again down the street and eventually John stopped in front of two low rise buildings facing a small park, in a part of Small Heath that Gemma had never been to. Before she could turn around to face the shop windows, John held her shoulders to remain in place.

“Welcome to the Birmingham mini fish and chips crawl, Gems. We start here.” John announced.

“This is what you planned?! You know me too well, babe. Thank you!” Gemma exclaimed, clapping her hands together before hugging John.

“Behind you are two dueling chip shops, stops 1 and 2 on our four stop tour today. Was pretty sure you’d never been out this way, thought it was a good place to start.”

“I’m so excited! Let’s get food, I’m starving.”

John laughed and led Gemma into the first chip shop and then the second, before walking over to the park across the street. He hadn’t been here in at least a few years, but he used to come a lot when Finn was younger. They would walk over on a Sunday, get a takeaway and then walk home. It tired Finn out and got John out of the house. And his head.

The pair settled on a bench, Gemma sitting crossed legged facing John. He smiled at how happy she was, opening the containers with glee. She always found joy in small pleasures, a favorite song, a nice sunset, a good meal. John found it grounding. He knew she lived in her head as much as he did in his, but to live in the moment, together, was an experience he couldn’t get enough of.

“Gem?”

“Yeah?” Gemma replied, looking up.

John flipped his sunglasses up onto his head and then reached over to do the same to hers. Gemma smiled at him, losing herself in his gaze. John held her face with one hand, watching as her eyes searched his, giving into his touch without even realizing it.

“I love you.” John said quietly, heart pounding.

“I love you, too.” Gemma responded back after a moment, needing to catch her breath.

John leaned forward and held her face now with both hands, kissing her as long as he could. Gemma looked up at him, running her fingers over his lips and then down his jaw. She kissed him again and it was like lightning, the most passion she had ever felt for anyone.

They sat staring at each for a few moments, time stopping around them, just the birds chirping in the background. John hadn’t planned it, but he had known he’d be ready to say those words when the timing was right. Gemma had felt it building up for weeks, the way she felt about him and the intensity, it couldn’t be denied. It was a forever thing.

A dog barked in the distance and the spell broke, Gemma pulling John’s sunglasses down for him and then putting her own back on. They smiled at each other, recognizing the importance of what they’d both just said, and how right it felt.

“I know you’re starving, so let’s eat.” John joked and picked up his fork.

“Best date ever, J, you know how to plan right. Is that like a Shelby thing or just a you thing?” Gemma asked between bites.

“The planning thing is a Shelby thing. The best date ever thing is all me. I know what you like.”

“Oh, really? I expect tonight’s activities to particularly stellar then.”

“With me and you? Always top performance.” John said smugly.

Gemma laughed and shook her head.

“You know, anyone else and that cockiness would be beyond annoying. But you are actually right, so it just makes you a thousand times hotter to me. I have high expectations and you meet them every time.”

John grinned at her and they sat back, swapping bites from their takeaway containers. Gemma gave a detailed explanation of how the two chip shops fit into her scoring so far, while John listened to her in total happiness. In the moment.

They stayed in the park through late afternoon, Gemma laying her head in John’s lap, lost in each other’s company. John ran his hand through her hair, laughing as she told him a story about a first date gone wrong before she’d moved to England. He took her hand in his as they sat quietly for awhile, each comfortably in their own thoughts.

“What are you thinking about?” Gemma asked, looking up at him.

“Once the Eden opens and we’re back from London, I was thinking I want to give the music thing another shot. It’ll be different doing it alone, but it’s something I need to do.” John responded.

“If that’s what you want and need to do, I’m fully in support. What do you think Tommy will say about it?”

“Oh I’m sure he’ll come up with something negative to say, but I won’t tell him until the club opening is done.”

“Are you thinking about playing live or just getting back into recording?”

“Both? Live, I want to start out small, something casual. It’s been a really long time, and I’ve never sung lead in public. I did all the backing vocals for the Blinders, but that’s different.”

Gemma sensed John’s hesitation at the thought, and squeezed his hand in reassurance.

“What about doing something at the Garrison on a weeknight? No announcements, just pick a night and play. It’s your own space and less pressure if people aren’t lining up to see you.”

“You think people would actually do that? Just for me? No Tommy singing?”

“I think you’ll get interest from both old fans and new ones. You could use it as a hook to get them in the door, sure, but you’re just as talented on your own, John. Believe in that and see where the path takes you, ya know?”

John nodded and leaned back, he knew Gemma was right. Besides the fact that she was in the industry, she had good ear and had a talent for recognizing how and why a song would be a hit or a band might become popular. He trusted her instinct.

************************************************************************

Hours later, John and Gemma returned back to the Shelby house. John had taken her to two other well known chip shops and then stopped by The Yard for a few drinks and a debrief. Gemma had told Uncle Charlie that The Yard’s were still top in her book, which he passed along to a delighted Curly in the kitchen.

Charlie thought about Margaret Shelby as he watched the pair sit at the bar, totally enamored with each other, and how that had been him and Peggy once. Before she got involved with scum of the earth Shelby Sr. In the end, he’d been more involved with Peggy’s kids than their own father, in which there was a certain sort of irony that still cut deep.

The Shelby house was empty, Finn had messaged John earlier to say he’d be out with friends until late. Gemma wandered into the kitchen to get a drink, and John watched her from the doorway, noting how at ease she was in his home. It made him happy to see. He walked over and wrapped his arms around her from behind, resting his head on her shoulder.

“Did you have a good day?” He asked.

“The best day! Thank you. No one but you could’ve done that for me.” Gemma replied.

“We still have the evening portion of the agenda.” John joked, but the way he said made Gemma weak.

“Oh? And what exactly will that include?”

“Me taking you upstairs to start with.” John murmured in her ear, making her shiver.

“Will this be a clothing optional activity?” Gemma teased back.

John turned her around, looking down at her with darkened eyes before kissing her. He backed her up against the counter and boxed her in, body to body, there was no room for anything else. Gemma gasped in surprise as he smoothly slid a knee between her legs.

“I’ve been planning to have you naked in my bed and screaming my name all day.” John said, his voice rough with pent up desire, his lips on the skin just below her ear.

He reached down and in one motion picked her up over his shoulder, her legs dangling against his chest. Gemma screamed and started laughing as John made his way up the stairs. Two flights later, she was impressed that he was barely winded, and he set her down on the bed.

She scooted back against the pillows and watched as he pulled off his shirt and jeans. He even made getting undressed look better than any other guy she’d been with.

John knelt on the bed and slowly undid the button on her jeans, pulling them down and tossing them to the side. He did the same with her shirt and then settled himself between her legs, kissing her stomach and then up to her collarbone. He had started to live for the quiet way she’d say his name while he kissed her neck, the way she’d hold the back of his head, running a hand down his back.

There was something else he had been planning to do for awhile, when the house was quiet and Gemma was at ease.

“Gems, can you ask you something?” He mumbled against her skin.

“Yeah, of course.” She replied.

“I’ve noticed the few times I’ve, ah, tried to go down on you that you aren’t really into it. And that’s totally fine. I just want to make sure that you’re comfortable, and I kinda sense there’s something behind that. You’re safe with me.” John said, looking up at her.

Gemma fidgeted with his earrings for a moment, looking to the side before looking back at him. There was no reason for her to be worried or afraid with John, she knew that. Still, it brought up something she hadn’t realized she’d been doing.

“It’s not that I don’t like it, I do, I just have never been able to, you know, finish that way. And guys I’ve dated in the past either got bored or insulted, so I guess I just developed a habit of avoiding the situation, I didn’t quite realize it though.”

“Maybe it just hasn’t been with the right person, and I’d like to be that person, if you’re alright with giving me a chance to try.”

John smiled at her and rubbed her cheek, he was so sure of himself that she had to smile back. She thought for a moment and nodded in response.

“If you are uncomfortable and want me to stop, you tell me and that’s totally ok. I love you and you are safe with me. I am not like the others you’ve been with.” John said, a serious tone taking over, he felt angry about how someone else’s insecurities had made her feel bad about herself.

“I love you, too, J.” Gemma replied and nodded again.

John would be lying if he said that he didn’t have a lot of sexual experience with women. Martha had been nearly his first everything, and he had been hers. They had been young and in love, and with that came a lot of hormones and sexual exploration. And the deeper they felt for each other, the more intimate they became.

In the early years after his breakup with Martha, there were a lot of drunken encounters with girls who wanted to sleep with John Shelby from the Peaky Blinders. His mind and his heart were never really in it, but a man had needs, and he gave into that many times.

Over time he started to recognize a certain insecurity in nearly all the women he’d been with, one that had been put there by men in their past. And as much as he just wanted to drown in whiskey and give in to his darkest desires, he wasn’t made for casual hookups. He hated the thought that he’d make a girl feel bad, just because he was unable to have feelings for her, or anyone else. He had been raised to respect women, and he wanted to set a good example for Finn as well.

He also had an innate sense of how to really read a woman and know what she wanted and how she wanted it. He knew what he was doing, both through practice and intuition. His confidence didn’t come off as cocky (well, mostly) because he actually had the skills to back it up.

John took his time, kissing Gemma slowly and deeply. He slid his hand under her back and managed to unhook her bra one handed, pulling down each strap and then tossing it off the bed. He trailed down to her neck, her fingers burning the skin on his shoulder, and then lower. He cupped one of her breasts in his hand, swirling his tongue around the nipple. Gemma moaned quietly and he smiled to himself. After a few minutes, he moved over to the other side, thumbing the hardened nipple while sucking on the other one.

Gemma moved her leg up, tightening it against John’s hip, his legs between hers now. He reached down and ran his hand up her thigh, hitching her leg around his back. He made his way further down her body, down across her stomach and then scooted himself down so his head was between her legs.

He looked up at her, asking silently for permission, and she nodded. John started at one knee, softly kissing up her inner thigh, and then the same on the other leg. Gemma felt like her body was on fire already. John looked up again as he spread her legs a little further and wrapped both hands up under her thighs. Gemma held her breath.

John slid his tongue gently into her wet center and Gemma breathed out. He did it again and she could feel his nose rubbing against every nerve. John heard her moan a little louder and took it as a good sign. He continued on for a few minutes, letting her get comfortable with the situation.

“I’m going to try a few things, let me know what feels good to you.” John said, feeling himself harden at the sight of Gemma, flushed and looking down at him.

Gemma nodded and John put his mouth fully on her, running through a small list of techniques he’d acquired over the years. He felt her hip lift up in response and her hand grasped his hair.

“Whatever that was.” Gemma said breathlessly.

John put both of her legs over his shoulders, trying to ignore how uncomfortable it was to lay against his strained boxers. He put his mouth back on her, finding her even wetter, and went back to what he had been doing. With one hand, he held her lower stomach down, the pressure of her moving against him increasing her pleasure. He could feel her back arch as he sucked and licked harder.

“I’m really close, babe.” She managed to speak, her hand digging into his scalp now.

He lifted her up slightly off the mattress, still pressing down with his other hand, and she started moaning his name even louder. He was determined now, focusing on reacting to her body moving against him. He continued the same pattern for a few moments more, and as her leg started to shake against him, he slid his tongue down inside of her. She screamed his name and John nearly came from the feeling of her pulsing against the tip of his tongue.

John slowly unwrapped her legs from around his body and then kissed her inner thigh before making his way back up the bed. Gemma lay with her eyes closed, hair wild across the pillow, face flushed.

“Holy fuck, J. I told you those Ray-Bans were doing things to me.” Gemma commented as she patted his arm and smiled.

“See, love, you just needed the right person and some patience.” He replied, pulling the sheet up over her.

They laid together for a few minutes in comfortable silence, Gemma coming down and John pleased with himself. It took him a moment to realize she had started crying, tears hitting his chest.

“Gem, are you alright? What’s wrong?” John asked worriedly, turning so that he was facing her.

“Kind of hitting me just how self centered most guys are, focusing on getting themselves off. You are so different, and I’m seeing now how different you really are.” Gemma explained through her tears.

John kissed her cheek and wiped away the tears with the corner of the bedsheet, resting his hand against her face.

“I want you to be happy, and safe, and loved, and fulfilled. And it makes me happy to give you that, in whatever scenario. Seeing you like that, it was a massive turn on for me, but also satisfying that I could make you feel that way. Because I love you.” John said.

Gemma nodded and smiled, letting her hand fall between them and then to the waist of his boxers. She started to pull them down, John biting back a moan of pleasure.

“You don’t need to if you don’t want to, love.”

“I want to. I want to because I want you, and I love you, and I need you.” Gemma replied.

She looked into his eyes and maintained a steady gaze as she ran her hand under the front of his boxers and gripped his hard shaft. John fought to keep his eyes open as he pushed the boxers down further, and rolling on top of her.

“Am I crushing you?” He asked, as she made room for him to settle.

“I like being crushed by you.” Gemma responded with a look so heated that John wasted no time.

He reached down and slid into her slowly, linking both their hands as he went deeper, her body taking him in. Gemma kissed him and he rocked his hips back and forth, staying inside her as much as possible. The feeling was so intense, he’d almost forgotten it. How it felt to be like this with the girl he loved, and who he knew for sure now loved him back.

Author's Note: If the person you are seeing casually, dating, in a serious relationship with, married to, etc, isn't respectful like John, it's not worth it. Women especially should feel safe and have the ability to explore their own desires, without having a man's ego get in the way negatively. If someone makes you feel bad for not living up to a certain expectation and only worries about their own needs, it's not worth it. Respect and equality, without those, it is truly not worth it. If only we could clone a modern John (and Finn), that would solve a lot of problems!

#john shelby #john shelby fanfic #john shelby imagine #joe cole #modern john shelby #modern peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fanfic #john shelby fanfiction #finn shelby #finn shelby fanfic #electric

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min-sugar-7 · 3 years

Text

DAY 1: “You’re such an idiot.”“But you love me”

Camelot was peaceful. The skies were blue with plenty of clouds for shade, creating the perfect picture of peace. Rivers flowed plenty, harvests prospered. Gaius’s chambers were relatively empty, other than the occasional births.

The Knights invited Merlin along on their tavern conquests because there weren’t any attacks and training was pretty laid back.

Arthur had not insulted him for two days. He had not told him to muck out the stables. Nor had he thrown anything at him.

Merlin narrowed his eyes in suspicion. Something was wrong. Either that or something was about to go horribly pear-shaped. Maybe Arthur was under another enchantment.

Now that was a matter of grave concern. Merlin narrowed his eyes further.

“You look like you’re trying to burn that squire with your glare, Merlin,” said a voice. The owner of said voice snatched the water skin from his hands. Merlin looked, and yes, he was accidentally glaring at a poor squire. “How has he offended you?”

“Nothing, my lord. Just thinking ‘bout you,” Merlin mumbled. Arthur raised an eyebrow, tossing the water skin back to him.

“Think of me often?” Arthur smirked, and Merlin just wanted to swat him.

“Yeah,” Merlin rolled his eyes and grinned. “Thinking of ways to poison you so that training would end faster.”

Merlin stole a glance at his waterskin, making Arthur freeze. “You wouldn’t.”

Merlin shrugged and looked away, enjoying the unsettling peace of Camelot. Arthur huffed, and Merlin could practically hear his eye roll. Anytime now, Arthur would drag Merlin down the training field and use him as a training dummy. He will.

“Well, I guess I’d just have to accept my fate,” Arthur let out a long-suffering sigh. He would start whacking Merlin with a metal stick anytime about now. "Try not to poison any other Knights. Morgana would have your head if anything happened to Leon.”

With that, Arthur walked away. Merlin stared at him with disbelief. Arthur was being nice. And genuinely funny. Arthur is neither nice nor funny. Arthur is a mean bully who likes to torment Merlin.

There could only be one explanation.

Merlin’s Arthur has been kidnapped, and this one is a doppelgänger.

Apparently, no one else in Camelot shared Merlin’s suspicions. It turns out that Arthur is “Perfectly fine, and in good health,” according to Gaius. “Strong as ever,” according to Leon. “Still a princess,” according to Gwaine. “As he always is,” according to Gwen. “Still a perfect assassination target,” according to Morgana.

On top of that, Arthur’s been listening to whatever Merlin says. Merlin’s Arthur never listens to him. Never.

When he told Arthur not to step into the fairy circle, he listened. Usually, Arthur would say, “don’t be ridiculous, Merlin,” and step into a fairy circle. Merlin had to push Arthur away to avoid conflicts. When he told Arthur to cancel a hunt because it was about to rain, he did. Usually, Arthur would roll his eyes and go hunting anyway, shivering and freezing under the cold downpour.

There could only be one other explanation.

Arthur knows about his magic and is leading Merlin into a false sense of security.

Merlin refrained from using any type of magic in the past two days. He will not risk it.

And then Merlin’s worst nightmare came true. Arthur told him to pack his bags and wait by the stables. Arthur was going to banish him for his magic. At least he had some time to say goodbye to Gaius, who did not share Merlin’s concerns.

“Gaius, he’s going to banish me! Could you stop laughing?”

No such luck. Gaius continued chuckling, murmuring something under his breath, before pushing Merlin out of his chambers.

Merlin gulped nervously, taking small, slow steps to delay the inevitable. Maybe if he concentrated hard enough, the ground would open up and swallow him. At least his ghost could continue protecting Arthur.

Soon, though, he was standing in front of the stables, watching Arthur whisper to his favorite horse. He had his back turned and provided his undivided attention to Llamrei. He looked absolutely stupid whispering and smiling and running his hand through her mane. Merlin loved him.

Okay, well, perhaps, not too much since he’s about to banish Merlin. But Arthur doesn’t look like he is about to exile somebody. He usually has a brooding air around him and refuses to smile for hours.

Arthur turned back, letting out an undignified squeak as he saw Merlin. Merlin would never let it go. He will lord it over Arthur for the rest of his life. Or at least, the rest of the time Merlin’s allowed to stay in Camelot.

“Merlin,” Arthur nodded, clearing his throat.

“Arthur,” Merlin responded, not knowing what else to say.

“Yes, um, let’s go,” Arthur declared and promptly led Llamrei out of the stables.

Merlin stared in confusion. Arthur, as if sensing his confusion, rolled his eyes, and grabbed Merlin’s pack from him, saddling it to Merlin’s favorite horse, Clove.

“What do you have in here? Rocks?” Arthur asked, but didn’t wait for an answer. Instead, he mounted his horse, staring expectantly at Merlin to do the same. Merlin shot a glare at Arthur and mounted Clove. Of course, his bag was heavy. His everything’s in there.

What Merlin did not understand was why Arthur’s riding with him. For the whole trip, Arthur looked skittish, throwing glances back at Merlin. He noticed that Arthur’s hand occasionally drifted towards his left hip, where Excalibur and his coin pouch rested.

Oh. Oh.

Arthur was not going to banish Merlin. Arthur was going to kill Merlin and make it look like an accident. Oh shit, shit, shit.

Arthur suddenly raised an arm, stopping at a clearing. Merlin tried hard not to flinch. Arthur unmounted his horse and took out his pack, wait, why does Arthur have a bag?

Arthur caught him staring, and said, “What?”

Merlin, whose sanity was hanging on by its fingernails, immediately got off and started apologizing.

“Arthur, I am so sorry-”

“What the hell are you apologizing for?” Arthur said, turning back, giving Merlin his signature 'what-the-hell-Merlin' look.

That would be right about the time Merlin noticed the picnic blanket and basket in the middle of the clearing. Arthur followed Merlin’s gaze and immediately went red all over.

Merlin connected the dots; albeit a bit slowly. Arthur dragged Merlin away from the castle, told him to pack his bags, and brought him on a picnic. So Merlin was not about to be killed. Spectacular.

“We’re out on a picnic,” Merlin stated.

“Excellent observation, Merlin. Now it would be great if you’d come and sit with me.” Arthur stepped closer, presumably to grab Merlin’s pack. Merlin immediately grabbed it, to avoid further embarrassment. Oh God, if Arthur knew he packed all his belongings…

“Ehem. Yes. Of course. Let’s go.”

Merlin almost stumbled forward but made it to the picnic blanket relatively unharmed. Now, what was he supposed to do?

“Well, um, people would usually sit down at this point,” Arthur said, clearing his throat. Merlin nodded and collapsed down, wincing a bit when he hit the floor a bit too hard. Arthur was trying not to laugh.

“Not a word,” Merlin mumbled, which of course, made Arthur laugh. After that, things were a bit less awkward, as they shared some rather delicious pastries and talked about nonsense. Merlin made sure to keep his bag out of Arthur’s view.

“What do you keep in that bag anyway?” Of course, Arthur had to ask that.

“Nothing,” Merlin totally did not squeak. Arthur narrowed his eyes, looking straight through Merlin’s rather stupid lie. “Stuff.”

“It is a bit too heavy, don’t you think?” Arthur grabbed his bag, which Merlin yanked closer to his chest. Arthur just had to take that as a challenge, crowding closer to Merlin’s space.

Merlin tried his best, alright? But without magic, Arthur was faster, and he somehow ended straddling Merlin and holding the bag out of Merlin’s reach. Merlin huffed and collapsed back because there was no pacifying the prat when he’s up for a challenge.

Merlin covered his eyes with his forearm, deciding that if he can’t see Arthur, then Arthur can’t see him.

“Why the hell do you have all your clothes?”

If he can’t see Arthur, Arthur can’t see him. If he can’t see Arthur, Arthur can’t-

“Are you blushing, Merlin?” Arthur teased, and Merlin could practically see his smug grin.

“Shut up,” Merlin mumbled, suddenly turning them over so that he was on top and in possession of his bag. His victory didn’t last long, however, because Arthur immediately flipped them.

Oh no. Merlin will not think of how Arthur looked stunning with the sun shining in the back of his hair, creating a halo around him. He will not think about how Arthur’s eyes practically matched the sky. He will not-

Well, Merlin couldn’t think after that, because Arthur pressed his lips against his. Woah, hold on, how did that happen? Not that Merlin was complaining. It was rather brilliant. Arthur’s lips tasted sweet like the pastries they ate, and Merlin could spend hours like this.

There was only one drawback to this. Merlin’s magic soared under his skin, thrumming constantly as if enjoying the kiss just as much as Merlin did. He could hold on for a few more seconds, but he doesn’t want Arthur to know, but he doesn’t want to break the kiss either-

Arthur suddenly broke the kiss, prepping a few butterfly kisses and making a trail to his ear, nibbling on the skin there.

“Breathe, Merlin,” he whispered before going back to teasing his ear. It was then that Merlin realized that he was holding his breath along with his magic but couldn’t let go of either. Arthur then pulled back, stopping everything.

Merlin immediately missed it but could finally think without his magic going haywire. He still was too afraid to open his eyes, just in case his eyes decided to go gold. A hand came up to caress his cheek, sending tingles in its wake.

“Shh… Open them,” Arthur whispered, his voice suddenly close to his ear. There’s no way he could mean what Merlin thinks he means. No way. Merlin kept them glued shut. “I mean it.” The hand now traveled up to his cheekbones, tracing the outline of his eyes.

Merlin did, a bit slowly at first. It could all very well be an elaborate plan to get him to confess his true identity, but Merlin didn’t know how to fight it. He didn’t want to fight it.

Arthur took a sharp intake of breath, no doubt noticing the gold of his eyes. He didn’t do anything, just stared. Merlin held his breath again, too afraid to move.

A few moments passed, and Merlin feared he’d accidentally frozen time. But then Arthur rushed forward to capture his lips again, and all coherent thoughts left him. He was too startled to notice that he’d let go of his magic, instead, focusing on the feel of Arthur’s lips against his.

“You’re beautiful,” Arthur mumbled against his lips before diving back for another kiss. It took a few seconds for Merlin to understand. Wait Arthur knows about his magic. Arthur is kissing him. Merlin is still miraculously alive. Arthur’s tongue is swiping against his lips. Arthur hasn’t run Merlin through with his sword. Merlin’s tongue is in Arthur’s mouth. Arthur knows about his magic. Arthur isn’t killing him.

Merlin promptly broke the kiss, gasping against Arthur’s lips.

“Wait- you aren’t mad?” Merlin’s thoughts were a jumble of “Arthur knows, Arthur knows, Arthur knows-”

“Why would I be mad?” Arthur looked absolutely amazing with his cheeks flushed and lip red from kissing. From kissing him, his mind supplied. For a second, Merlin forgot what they were talking about, but then remembered.

“I’ve lied, and you think magic is evil-” Merlin searched Arthur's face for any signs of disgust, anger, or hatred but found none.

Arthur chuckled at that, turning his head away. “How could it be evil, when it does this?” Merlin followed Arthur’s gaze and saw exactly what he was talking about. The clearing that was formerly filled with grass now had little flowers surrounding the two. Merlin felt his cheeks heat up at that because the flowers were Carnations, and Merlin totally didn’t mean anything by it. Blame it all on Merlin’s magic.

Arthur placed one last final kiss at the corner of his mouth before plopping himself beside Merlin. Arthur curled himself around Merlin, sneaking a hand through his waist and pulling him close. Merlin went willingly.

“You never told me why your bag’s full of useless stuff,” Arthur said after some time. Merlin mourned the loss of peaceful, happy silence. He was hoping that he’d forgotten about that.

Merlin ducked his head so that Arthur couldn’t see his face. He cuddled up against Arthur’s chest, letting his heartbeat calm him a bit.

“I thought you were going to banish me or something,” Merlin mumbled.

“What was that?”

“I thought you were going to banish me,” Merlin repeated, this time really hoping that the ground would swallow him up.

There was a beat of silence before Arthur barked out, “What?”

“Well, um, you were being nice to me, and generally not being a prat for like two days and that’s not normal Arthur behavior,” Merlin quickly rushed to explain. “And then I thought that you found out about my magic and you’re trying to lead me into a false sense of security, and then you asked me to pack my bags and come to the stable so I thought that you were going to banish me.

“But then you tagged along, and I thought you were going to murder me or something out here, and then I saw the picnic blankets and got so confused.” Merlin should probably shut up now before he makes an even bigger fool of himself.

“That’s what you thought this date was about?” Arthur asked. Merlin could feel him shaking, his words vibrating through his chest.

“This was a date?” Merlin asked, in genuine surprise, because the kiss was a total spur-of-the-moment thing, right?

Arthur stayed silent for a second before bursting out in laughter. Merlin whipped his head up and saw, that yes, Arthur was completely amused. Merlin finally got a legitimate reason to swat his chest, which only made him laugh harder.

Fine, Merlin might be an over-thinker. But it is an acquired skill after staying in Camelot for so long. You have got to think outside the box if you wish to be on the same level as the countless assassins thirsting after Pendragon blood.

“Merlin, you are such an idiot,” Arthur howled, his laughter coming to a slow end. He stared at Merlin with such fondness that Merlin had to look away, so Arthur could not notice his blush.

“Shut up. You love me.” Woah, from where did that come? Dammit.

“Yeah, I do.” Was he hearing things now? Merlin whipped his head up for the second time, his eyes meeting an equally dumbstruck Arthur. No matter what Merlin did, he could not stop the onslaught of a stupid grin creeping over his face.

Merlin leaned forward for a peck, which dissolved into a kiss and then into a make-out session. When they parted, Merlin rested his forehead against Arthur’s, basking in the glow of pure, utter happiness.

Arthur shifted beneath him, making Merlin open his eyes. He opened his coin purse and pulled out a piece of red fabric, looking suspiciously like cashmere. Oh, so Arthur wasn’t trying to reach for his sword…

“Here, for you,” Arthur said and held it up for Merlin. Merlin touched it, and yes, it was a cashmere neckerchief. Merlin gaped a bit because cashmere is worth more than Merlin’s annual salary and then some.

“Arthur-”

“Just, take it-” Arthur reached behind to untie the knot of Merlin’s current neckerchief. He grabbed the soft fabric from Merlin and tied it around Merlin's neck. It felt like absolute heaven- he’s never worn something so soft “-Suits you.”

Merlin noticed the little blush that spread across Arthur’s nose and cheeks, and couldn’t help but smile. He was lying on top of Arthur, so it was easy to lean forward and press a kiss on Arthur’s nose. Arthur turned a darker shade of red.

“I love you too, dollophead,” Merlin mumbled against Arthur’s lips before diving in for another kiss. Merlin felt Arthur smile against his lips and had no problem returning one. They were honestly acting like a cheesy old married couple, but Merlin wouldn’t have it any other way.

#merthurweek2020 #day1 #prompt fill #fic #merthur #oblivious merlin #mutual pining #fluff #merlin's neckerchief #first dates #first kiss #arthur knows about merlin's magic #bbc merlin

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emachinescat · 3 years

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Welcome to Masterlist Monday! Every Monday I will be sharing a fanfic master list - sometimes of my own work, sometimes of other people’s, and sometimes a mixture of the two! These lists come from my own personal stores of fanfics, collected over the many years I’ve been reading and writing, and I’m so excited to share them with you! (Also, I just really like making lists.) Today’s list is...

My 10 Most Popular Fan-Fictions*

*On AO3, based on number of Kudos. It was fun looking through these and seeing what stories ended up being the most liked. Some of them surprised me, honestly! If you read any of them, I hope you will enjoy them, too! :)

1. Too Far | Merlin | Rating: T

AU tag to 'Lamia'. How far is too far? Looking at the bloody, battered form on the cold, stone floor, with Lamia's green eyes focused hungrily upon the weary men, the knights realized that this time, they might have crossed the line. Enchanted or not, they've gone too far. 4x08

2. Ransoming Emrys | Merlin | Rating: T

Arthur isn't the only one that people will pay handsomely for. A band of renegade druids that know how much the legendary "Emrys" is worth has decided to auction him off to the highest bidder. How far will Arthur and his friends go to get him back, especially when Merlin's secret is revealed?

3. The Visiting Prince | Merlin | Rating: T

"Stay away from him!" The visiting prince snapped his eyes to meet Arthur's challenge. "Why?" he sneered. "He's just a mouthy servant. He needed to be taught a lesson." An old 'friend' is in Camelot and Merlin is paying the price.

4. Follow the Leader | Merlin | Rating: G

When Merlin follows Morgana to her meeting with Morgause in 3x1, he doesn't know that he, too, is being followed. Arthur is there to witness everything that transpires. Will he be able to rescue Merlin and will he even want to when he finds out the truth?

5. Stone Cold | Merlin | Rating: G

Tag to 'The Darkest Hour'. Merlin's been in some pretty sticky situations. He's been hurt and injured, but if he falls, he always gets right back up. But this time, as Arthur stares at the too-still form of his servant at the base of the wall, Merlin doesn't get up. Spoilers for 4x01

6. The Finch and the Mockingbird | Psych | Rating: T

Henry's past comes back to haunt him in the worst of ways when a psychopath bent on revenge goes after his son in a deadly game inspired by the dark themes of revenge in Harper Lee's 'To Kill a Mockingbird.' Now father and son must fight for their lives and for each other, because this guy is determined to kill a mockingbird: a snarky, faux-psychic mockingbird named Shawn Spencer.

7. Between | Merlin | Rating: G

When Uther finds out about Merlin’s magic, Arthur has already known for some time – and Arthur has no intention of letting his father kill his servant. Written for Febuwhump on Tumblr. Day 17: identity reveal

8. For Arthur | Merlin | Rating: T

Merlin is seriously injured while protecting Arthur, throwing himself into danger without a second thought to himself. "Merlin didn't even register what he was doing until the dagger was in his chest."

9. Henry’s Allegory of the Doghouse | Psych | Rating: G

Just when Henry is wondering if trying to repair his relationship with his son is worth it, after all, he gets a call that changes everything. "Mr. Spencer? It's Gus. I'm at Santa Barbara General. There's been an accident." Spellingg Bee AU; part 2 of "AU That Glitters" series. Contains spoilers and whump.

10. A Game Well Played | Merlin | Rating: T

AU to 3x7. A terrified Gwen stumbles into Camelot after being missing for a day, tears streaming down her face, bearing grim news that sends Arthur on a quest through the enemy's territory to save his stolen manservant, no matter the cost. And the cost will be great.

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katieskeep · 3 years

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WEEK #1 | #2 | #3 | #4| #5 | #6

51. Master Shot by rotrude Summary: Arthur Pendragon and Merlin Emrys are actors who get cast in director's Jonathan Drake new film, a war drama that is being marketed as Pearl Harbor meets Brokeback. The only problem is that while they play lovers on screen, with plenty of steamy scenes serving as proof of their fictional feelings, in reality they dislike each other.

52. Hook, Line and Sinker by methurpleasee Summary: When Merlin's mum convinces him to move to London, to finish his last year of university, and get the fresh start they both desperately need, he expects: new better friends, amazing end exam results and eventually a BAFTA for 'best new director', with his name on it. What he doesn't expect is crazy room mates, late night revision, more secrets and a one night stand with a certain fit blonde, with a bimbo for a girlfriend. And he definitely doesn't expect to fall for him hook, line and sinker.

53. Obstacles of Wedded Bliss by miss_chevalier Summary: Merlin and Arthur are recently married and Arthur screws up a bit.

54. A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Merman by SlantedKnitting Summary: Merlin lives a fairly simple life underwater. He teaches history, and he teaches magic. The magic teaching isn’t allowed, though, and to test his loyalty, Queen Nimueh sends him on a mission to destroy a nearby ship and drown any and all passengers. When Merlin can’t bring himself to kill the handsome sailor, instead saving his life, Queen Nimueh bans him from the ocean, forcing him to take up a new life on land.

55. Intended by new_kate Summary: "Kids have crushes on teachers all the time. It's perfectly normal."

56. Prove all my hypotheses by minor_hue Summary: Merlin is an emo/scene kid. Arthur is a jock with a secret kink for emo/scene kids. They meet in a club and chaos ensues.

57. Somewhere Only We Know by SPowell Summary: Professor Merlin Emrys rescues the long lost brother of Morgana Pendragon from the wilds of the African jungle where, after a plane crash that killed both their parents, Arthur Pendragon's lived with the apes for the past eighteen years. Under Merlin's tutelage, Arthur quickly regains his social skills and ability to speak; however, he desperately misses the jungle he still thinks of as home.

58. 'Tis a Pity He's a Whore by xaritomene Summary: Arthur is a rich business man - Merlin is the down-on-his-luck hooker he picks up almost by accident one night. Things Happen Between Them - and not just the things Arthur paid for.

59. When Art, Guards and Dragons Collide by Kalee60 Summary: Groping your Boss to be, not once but twice in the space of twenty minutes was not the way Merlin anticipated landing his dream job. But that’s exactly what happens. Arthur Pendragon, the most gorgeous man to roam the planet was clearly there to make Merlin’s life hard (amongst other things). There was no way a “boss with benefits” scenario would ever work - or could it?

60. All Is Found by otto_tis_eratai Summary: Arthur is back in modern-day England on an uneventful Friday evening and the world he used to know has been lost in the mists of time. Merlin is there to help him face his destiny one day at a time. A journey of love, acceptance, discovery, and finding the things that matter the most.

#fanfictions #sunday's favourites #arthur x merlin #100ff

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achliegh · 3 years

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Happy

Alright my chickpeas, my little garbanzo beans (Wtf am I even saying) I am here to bring you the “Happy we-did-it Ending”. This one was really difficult for me to write because when it comes to good endings my mind just calls them fake. Which… I mean this is fiction so why can’t it be happy. Sorry if this sucks I tried my best. Please Read at your own risk! This is a triggering fic.

Love, Your Trash Monster

CW/TW: Past Abusive relationship, Anxiety, Depression, Panic Attack, past age difference relationship (Illegal)

Part1 Part2 Part3

Characters belong to @lumosinlove

Besides Luka, I made him up, don’t care for him tho

Leo's leg was bouncing uncontrollably, he and Sirius waited for Coach outside his office, He was grateful for Sirius like he felt indebted to him even though they only talked for maybe a half hour. He runs his hands through his hair for what feels like the millionth time.

“What if he doesn’t believe me?” He didn’t mean to say it out loud but when his captain turned and gave him a soft look, he realized he did. He looked down at his hands in his lap and picked at a bandaid. It was one of the Hello Kitty ones Logan bought on accident. “I mean I have no proof of any of this happening, What if Coach thinks I just dislike Luka for no reason and am trying to ruin his life or something like that… It wouldn’t be the first time an adult hasn’t believed me. I mean, there's that double standard that “Men don’t get sexually abused and if they do they don’t cry about it” it's why I never even told Finn and Lo until a few weeks ago. I didn’t want them to think less of me.” He smiles a little at the bandaid he was messing with and thinks about how lucky he is that his boys still love him. “I’m so lucky”

“I get it.” Sirius looked up just in time to see Arthur walking towards them. He smiles a little and stands with Leo next to him.

They follow Arthur into his office and sit down.

“So, is this about all the concerned people who have been telling me something is wrong with Leo?” His brushy red eyebrow lifts and he crosses his arms leaning back in his chair. “I was also told by a little Russian bird that there was an argument in the locker room between you and Luka. Leo whatever is going on it has a lot of people worried.” He leaned forward and set his hands on the arms of his big office chair. “Leo, you know I treat everyone of my players like my sons.”

Leo takes a shaky breath and clutches his hands together tightly in his lap. Gulping down the fearful frog in his throat he meets Coaches eyes. “ What I'm going to tell you is something I’ve only told to a few people. I don’t have any proof anymore, but I need you to believe me Coach.” He feels Sirius put a hand on his arm as a comforting I’m here motion. He told Arthur and Sirius everything, not leaving out any detail that he was comfortable enough to share. It was everything from the good, loving parts of the relationship that made him sick to his stomach now. To the horribly, hellish parts of the relationship that made him choke on his own tears. Leo didn’t think much of it back then (he was a little preoccupied trying not to break) but he remembered that most of Luka and his friend would film things with Leo because they thought it was funny to see him suffer or to save for later to use as blackmail on anyone in the videos.

“Wait, you said he filmed these things?” Arthur, who had turned white as a ghost and had a furious glint in his eye, started drumming his fingers. “Do you think he would have kept these videos throughout the two years you’ve been apart.?

“I know for a fact he's kept them” They both look at him with wide eyes and a silent invitation to explain. “He would ask me if I wanted to see them… or remake them” Talking about all this as making him feel like he was gonna puke. He had a foul taste in my mouth. Arthur put his head in his hands, he's devastated that he let such a fucking asshole interact with his team. That he let his youngest player suffer like that.

Sirius had stood abruptly from his chair and was pacing behind Leo’s chair with his hand interlocked on the back of his neck. He exhales deeply, seething with anger. How could he let this go on so long, he had picked up on Leos habits because Remus had pointed out how similar the two of them were at times. He feels like he failed as a Captain for not doing something sooner.

“Is there anything we can do, Coach? I mean, can we at least fire him?” He stopped pacing and ran a hand over his face, taking a deep breath as he looked at the young kid next to him. How was he so good at hiding his pain? People would say that Sirius was good at that too but everyone on the team has seen him crack and spiral. Leo was always this calm, collected, cool support. He acted so mature for being so young and it was all clicking in his head. Everything about this 19 year old goalie was formed from the love and support of his family, but also the hate and abuse from a lover. He has experienced more than most people on the same team as him that are older than him.

“We can fire him, and if we do call the police, they can seize his electronics. If he really does still have those videos they could lock him up for CP because you were underage at the time. Nothing is guaranteed though.” He's deep in though, sometime during the processing of everything Leo had told them he had grabbed his laptop and was furiously typing an email to the Lead of the Organization. He hit send and looked up to the two hockey players. “I’m going to talk to Mr. Godic and Luka together. I already had a meeting with Mr. Godric today about next year's fundraisers but this is a more important topic.” he stands up and looks at Leo “Thank you for telling me Nut. That was very brave of you” He smiles weakly and Ruffles Leo’s hair. “If you ever need anything just let me know, okay?” He nods towards Sirius and walks out the door to his meeting.

“We should get you home, your boys are waiting.” He smiles softly as Leo stands and is taken by surprise when Leo pulls him into a tight hug mumbling “thank you” into his shoulder.

Leo was so happy, he felt lighter than he has in the last two years. He gets squeezed by the man he wrapped himself around and laughs wetly. When they pull away they both wipe their eyes and smile at each other. This was a new chapter to both their lives.

Sirius dropped Leo off at home after a stop at a drive through for an ice cream cone (that he may or may not have dropped on Sirius’ floor and got an annoyed glare) he walked in the front door and was talked into a pile of limbs and smothering kisses. He laughed freely and kissed both his boys sweetly and conveyed so much love.

As the Cubs made dinner together and sang to a random playlist. Logan burned half the food and Finn dropped a third of it. Good thing Leo tripled the recipe so they had enough to eat for the night. Putting on a mind numbing cooking show they just waxed poetically about how much they love each other. Around 7:30 pm Leo's phone started vibrating and a picture of Arthur sleeping on the bus with Talker doing a thumbs up flashes on his screen.

“What happened?” He is very anxious about everything that could go wrong, all of that melted away when Arthur shared the news.

“He's been taken down to the station and his phone has been seized. He was angry when confronted and actually tried to take a swing at me before security was called. If this ends up going to court would you be able to, you know, stand trial. I mean telling your coach is one thing but a room of strangers is different. Especially because the media will be all over this case.”

Leo had to think about this, if he didn’t go and testify this case would only air on the local news. Then again, he could change people's lives. He could be a role model for people who are too afraid to tell about their experiences. That's worth more than anything. He may be shamed online but it doesn’t matter. He Needed to do this.

“Yeah, this is something I need to do.”

#leo knut #lumosinlove #logan tremblay #sirius black #finn o'hara #sweater weather #coast to coast

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megs-mostly-past-random-fandoms · 4 years

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Just Fine (Part 2 of Unexpected Reunion)

Here’s the requested 2nd part of “Unexpected Reunion”. *Familiar characters do NOT belong to me!*

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Warnings: Angst. Mentions of pregnancy and childbirth(not graphic, but still). A couple swear words, if that bothers you.

Pairings/Characters: Past!Michael Shelby/Gray x fem!reader, Michael Shelby/Gray x Gina Gray, The rest of the Shelby Clan

A few days after your confrontation with Michael, you sat in your flat crying your eyes out. You had refused to talk to anyone as every emotion you felt came pouring out in hot, angry tears. Polly and Finn often came to check on you, but you refused to open the door for them. You loved them, but you couldn’t face them. After about the fourth day, there was another knock on your door.

"Go away, Pol,“ you called out in a scratchy voice. "Open the door, Y/N,” Arthur’s voice called out. You didn’t reply. He knocked again to no answer. The third time he knocked, another voice said, “Open the door or Arthur will break it down!” You recognized Tommy’s growl and sighed. You knew he was serious. You got up and threw the door open, meeting the faces of Arthur, Tommy, and Ada.

"What?!“ you snapped. Tommy looked unimpressed and Ada had a look of pity on her face. "Don’t. Don’t do that. I don’t want your pity, Ada. I don’t want any of this. And I’m not sorry I told Michael to go to Hell.” Ada smiled at you before pushing passed her brothers and going to your wardrobe.

You didn’t get the chance to ask what she was doing before Tommy said, “You’re going to stay with Ada for the duration of your pregnancy.” You arched a brow. “The hell I am. I’m not going anywhere he can just show up whenever he feels like.” Tommy’s eyes never left yours as you continued, “I am not Shelby property that you can do with as you wish, Thomas Shelby!”

To his credit, Tommy didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t even show any signs that he was upset other than a slight tick of his jaw. “No, you’re not. But you are one of us. As is the child. You will be taken care of and protected. If you refuse to stay with Ada, then Polly is an alternative. Or you can take up residence with the Lees. We take care of our own, Y/N. Michael will not be allowed to come ‘round without your permission.”

You looked between the three Shelbys. They were all waiting for your answer. You met Tommy’s gaze again. “Do you swear?” He nodded without hesitation. After a second, you found yourself agreeing. Ada went back to throwing your clothing in a trunk.

*time skip*

Months passed quickly and before you knew it, you were eight months gone. You’d had no contact with Michael, but knew Ada had. You’d come home from the market one day to smell the mixture of cologne and cigarettes you knew could only be him. Other than that, there was no sign of him, just as Tommy promised.

However, as the day you were due to deliver drew closer, you found yourself missing him. You knew it was probably the pregnancy messing with your head but you didn’t care. You needed to clear the air before the baby came. So, you picked up the phone and asked the operator to dial Michael’s number. Unfortunately for you, it wasn’t Michael who answered the phone.

"I need to speak to Michael please,“ you said through gritted teeth when Gina answered the phone. You wanted so badly to tell her exactly what you thought of her, but you didn’t. As she was pregnant as well, you didn’t want to upset her. The baby was innocent after all.

"He’s out. May I take a message?” You sighed heavily as you ran your hand over your stomach. “Fine. Please tell him Y/N called.” It was silent on the line for a minute, then there was some shuffling, as if she was shifting the phone. “Michael doesn’t want to speak to you, Y/N. He doesn’t care anything for you or that bastard in your belly.” With that, she hung up the phone.

Anger coursed through your veins like never before. Never before had you truly despised another human being, but you loathed Gina Gray. The front door of Ada’s home burst open, pulling you from your thoughts. Polly frantically ran into the room.

"What are you doing here, Pol?“ you asked. You were really trying not to take your anger out on her. "Are you alright?” You brows furrowed and you nodded. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I…” you trailed off, meeting her gaze, “Did you have another dream? A vision?” She nodded.

"Well, don’t worry. I’m fine. Just a little upset.“ No sooner had you finished speaking did you feel a sharp and unexpected pain shoot through your stomach. "No,” you whispered. The pain didn’t lessen despite your refusal to believe what was happening. “Polly?” She gave you a smile as you let out a scream, bringing Ada running.

"Ada, call Thomas and Arthur. Tell them to get Michael and bring him here. Drag him by the ear or tie him up if they have to.“ Ada nodded and moved for the phone. Polly wrapped an arm around you to help you up to your room. "Ada,” you called back to her. “Yes, love?”

"Tell Michael to leave his fucking wife at home.“ Ada and Polly both chuckled a little. Polly lead you to your room while Ada placed the calls to her brothers. "I’m not ready, Pol. I’m scared,” you admitted softly. Polly gave your shoulders a squeeze. “You’re gonna be fine, love. Let’s bring your darling girl into the world.”

"A girl?“ She beamed. "I saw her. A beautiful little girl.” You couldn’t help but smile. The door opened and Ada gave Polly a nod. “Doctor’s on his way. Tommy too. He sent Arthur and Finn for Michael.” You nodded and thanked her as another contraction hit you. You gripped Polly’s hand so tightly, you thought you might rip it off. She hardly seemed fazed though. “Good girl. Breathe.”

You heard voices drifting your way, one you recognized as Tommy’s. The other was probably the doctor. “Take care of her,” Tommy’s accented voice said just outside the doorway, “I will make sure no one disturbs you.” The doctor’s gaze drifted to the bed and he smiled. “You have my word, Mr. Shelby. Ms. Y/L/N is in good hands.” Tommy stared the man down with that intimidating stare of his, the one you’d been on the receiving end of on more than one occasion. After a moment, Tommy left without a word.

Time passed so slowly and yet so quickly at the same time while you worked endlessly to bring your little girl into the world. At one point, you heard screaming that was not your own, but Ada quickly left the room, slamming the door behind her, to make the ruckus stop. That left you squeezing the life out of Polly’s hand. You were hot and tired and miserable, but you knew you couldn’t give up. Finally, after what felt like hours, you heard the shrill cry of your newborn baby.

"A girl.“ The doctor placed her on your chest and you felt like you might cry. "Thank you, Doctor. I’ll get them both cleaned up. And perhaps you would be kind enough to send Thomas up in a few minutes?” The doctor’s brow furrowed and his mouth opened as if he was about to ask if Tommy was the father, but thought better of it.

"She’s beautiful, Pol,“ you whispered. Polly smiled again. "I knew she would be. Now let’s get you both cleaned up.” You nodded and attempted to shift, but your eyelids felt heavy. Polly laughed and helped you, being careful of the little girl.

When she was done, she opened the door to let Tommy in. “Alright there, Y/N?” You told him your were fine, just tired. “Good. Michael’s here. Do you want to see him?” You frowned for the first time since you laid eyes on your daughter. “If you don’t, I’ll tell him so. If you do, I’ll make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid,” Tommy assured you. You contemplated for a moment. “He is her father, Tommy. He-He should see her,” you said softly.

Michael appeared a couple minutes later, hand in one pocket and an unlit cigarette in the other. “Don’t even think about it, Michael,” you scolded harshly. Michael put the cigarette away as he drew nearer to you and his child. “Girl or boy?”

"Girl. She looks like you…“ you said, trailing off. He came even closer so he could peer down at her. "She does. A little.” You stayed silent, fighting back tears. What could you say to the man who had broken your heart and rejected your child? What could you say to the one who got another woman he hardly knew pregnant and married her? You thought you were in love. You had been. Apparently Michael hadn’t. Before you could drown in your thoughts, Michael finally spoke again.

"I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t mea-“ You cut him off with a hiss. "Don’t you dare say you didn’t mean it, Michael! You sleeping around wasn’t an accident! You screwed around, knocked her up, and married her, not caring two shits about me in the process. We were happy. We loved each other. At least I thought we did.”

"We did! I did!“ You shook your head as the tears started to fall. "No you didn’t. If you had, you would have come home to me. You would have come home and married me, just like we talked about.” Michael said nothing and you huffed. Silence once again descended on the room for a few moments. You couldn’t bring yourself to meet Michael’s gaze, so you settled for the ceiling or your daughter’s face.

"What can I do?“ You shook your head. "Nothing. We can’t change it now. Go home to your wife, Michael. I won’t keep you from seeing your daughter, but it will be under my terms. And that b-woman is not allowed anywhere near me or my daughter for the time being. I don’t trust her. Especially not after this afternoon.” Michael looked at you in utter confusion.

"You don’t know?“ you asked before rolling your eyes. "Nevermind. Go talk to your wife. I need rest.” Michael surprisingly didn’t argue and left. More tears fell from your eyes. How had things gotten so messed up? Other people would have blamed the entire family. “The Shelby’s are bad news.” But you couldn’t. It wasn’t their fault. It was yours and it was Michael’s. Now you had to live with it. Still, as you looked down yet again, you smiled.

All the messed up situations in the world were worth seeing that little girl’s face. Michael could rot with his wife for all you cared. You didn’t need him and your daughter certainly didn’t need to look up to him. The door opened again to reveal the rest of the Shelby clan. “Is everything alright?” You looked at them and smiled tiredly. “Everything is going to be fine…absolutely fine.”

(a/n: I hope you liked it! I’ve got a Sherlock fic and a Labyrinth fic in the works!)

Tagging: @gilraenpalantir @namelesslosers

#peaky blinders #michael gray #michael shelby #x reader #michael gray x reader #michael shelby x reader #michael gray x gina gray #part 2

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longing-and-heartache-and-lust · 3 years

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the drug, the dark, the light, the flame, Ch.III

[previous] [next] [Ao3]

A third chapter for my work for this year’s @geraskierbigbang with the wonderful @gen-syz-art as my artist ✨

____________________________

It’s almost a month later that Geralt sees them and, despite himself, immediately thinks of Julian.

He’s making his way through a crowded market early in the morning, trying to get to a tavern where he should be able to find the author of a contract he’d taken off the notice board, when his eyes catch upon a counter selling leather.

Among the sheths and gloves, there is also riding tack and dog collars.

Geralt’s mind drifts to Asra and Lucio and he can’t help but think that the dyed purple leather of the wide collars would be a beautiful contrast to their winter-white fur. He knows that hunting dogs need special types of collars not to damage their necks, and the ones in front of him seem perfect.

It would be a nice way to thank him for the hospitality, Geralt thinks, Those dogs follow him everywhere.

And at the same time, somewhere deep in his mind, he knows that it’s an excuse to see Julian again, talk to him again.

Which is, Geralt has to remind himself for what seems like the hundredth time in the last month, not something that he can indulge in.

Julian was simply a good host, it doesn’t mean that he wants to see the witcher again, even if he did talk to him like it didn’t matter who - what - Geralt is.

"I'm a hunter."

"A hunter with two swords behind his back and a silver medallion?"

"A monster hunter."

After so many years on the Path, Geralt has grown as immune to the hate as he was for illnesses but sometimes, when he would stumble across someone who would see at least a little past the witcher part of him, it was always harder to forget than the sneers and averted eyes, fear and disgust mixed in even proportions in them.

No, Geralt tells himself, almost aloud, No.

With an effort, he makes himself pass the stall without stopping.

But in the evening, when the market is already closing and he has to pass through it again because he’s not familiar enough with the town to take a different route, the merchant is still there. He's getting ready to turn in for the day but the riding tack and the collars are still on the counter.

He must have noticed Geralt’s interest in the morning, for when the witcher passes by, he calls out to him and, before he knows it, Geralt finds himself standing in front of the stall.

“What was it that caught your eye, Master Witcher?” the merchant asks with careful but practised curiosity of a salesman. “The dog collars?”

Reluctantly, Geralt nods.

This is a horrible idea, he tells himself.

“Ah!” the man smiles, following the witcher’s gaze and picking up one of the purple ones. “Exquisite, aren’t they? My daughter makes them. What kind of dog ya have?”

Geralt clears his throat, vaguely aware that he’s digging his own grave.

“Not mine,” he says in the end. “A-- friend’s.”

The merchant’s dark eyes light up with little sparks.

“A present, then?” he asks.

“I suppose.”

The longer Geralt looks at the collar the merchant’s holding in his hand, the leather a beautiful, rich purple, the clearer it becomes that he’s not going to leave without it. The metal details, evenly spaced all around the middle of the collars, catch the light of the setting sun, almost hypnotising in their shine.

“It’s hunting dogs,” Geralt finally says, suppressing a sigh. “Two of them. Tall and slender, the bigger one can reach up to my chest with its nose.”

Maybe, he thinks, I can still get out of this because the collars are too small for dogs like this. He knows they're not but maybe the Gods themselves are going to preserve him from my own inability to think straight.

“Oh, don’t you worry, Master,” the merchant smiles, and Geralt’s last hope shatters. “These fit even the beast of a dog that my son has, so they will surely fit a hunting dog’s neck. Do you want them in different colours or both purple? There are some other colours under the counter, I can take them out to show you. Blue, red, maybe black?”

“Both purple,” Geralt says, accepting his defeat and reaching for his coin purse. “Identical, just like the dogs themselves.”

***

“I’m going to give them to Arthur and we will be on our way,” Geralt tells Roach when they leave the town and turn towards Roggeven, where it will be easier to find their way to the mansion. “All I want is to thank him for his kindness, that is everything.”

Roach snorts at him, unimpressed by what they both know is a lie.

“Well, it’s not going to be him that will come to open the gates, will it?” Geralt asks mockingly. “I will just give the collars to his majordomo and we will leave like we were never there. It’s a token of gratitude. Vesemir taught me that much.”

The mare just flicks an ear at him, uninterested and there is nothing Geralt can do but sigh and urge her into a faster gait with a whistle.

Over the past weeks, he’d found himself thinking back on Julian a little more often than he would like to admit, even to himself. Especially to himself.

Mostly because of a brush for Roach’s mane that he’d realised far too belatedly he’d taken from the stables in the mansion on accident. When he was packing the saddlebags before leaving, it was just there, right next to the riding tack, and he was still thinking about the stupid question he’d asked earlier to notice that it’s not his.

When he’d finally realised, they were already three days away from the mansion.

Well, yet another reason to return. Or so he tells himself.

***

The road doesn't take long.

The mansion is only a two day ride away from Roggeven and, well, Geralt was meaning to head in that direction, anyway, the town and villages around the coast always generous with contracts this time of year. The warmer the water gets, the more monsters it seems to attract.

But when he reaches the Duppa river, he turns east rather than west, and heads in the general direction of Gelibol, keeping close to the north bank. Soon enough, he’s in the town that had given him the nekker contract a month ago.

The mansion is still a few hours away and the sun is starting to set, so, after a minute’s consideration, Geralt decides to stop for the night.

The town has two inns but he goes for the smaller one - the same one that he’d stayed at the last time. The quieter it is, the better.

He can tell that he’s recognised as soon as he walks through the door but the innkeeper doesn’t say anything until later in the evening, when Geralt had already made himself somewhat comfortable in his rented room and has come downstairs for a drink.

“Back so soon, Witcher?” the innkeeper asks, setting a tankard of ale in front of him. “Another nest of beasts somewhere?”

The inn is only now starting to fill up with guests and the dinner is just yet cooking, so it looks like the man has decided to pass time over a conversation. Strange, considering who Geralt is, but not so strange that it can be deemed alarming.

“Passing through,” the witcher says, taking a swig. The ale is just as watered-down as he remembers. “On my way to Gelibol.”

“Ah,” the man says with an understanding nod even though Geralt is sure that he had never been further than the croplands outside the town. “Not close.”

Geralt shrugs.

“Not far.”

He thinks about it for a few seconds but then decides that he’s not losing anything by asking.

“The mansion a few hours away,” he starts, a little slow. “Who owns it?”

“Oh!” the innkeeper perks up like he’d been waiting for that question. “It’s a strange place, take my word on it, Witcher. There aren’t a lot of people from this village that go to those regions, mainly hunters and those that work on the croplands there, but some say that that mansion has been there ever since they could remember, some say that they’ve never seen it until about five or six years back.”

Geralt cocks a brow, indicating his interest and, when the innkeeper deliberately hesitates, rolls his eyes but throws another crown on the bartop. The man snatches it with a practised move and all of his attention is back on the witcher again.

“And what about the owners?” Geralt asks, nothing in his voice to give him away.

The innkeeper sets aside a tankard he’d been wiping and takes another one, shrugging with one shoulder.

“I’ve only seen the mansion a couple of times with my own eyes but those who are in those regions more often say that they only see gardeners and stablemen working behind closed gates. On occasion they also see a man who they believe to be the owner,” he scoffs. “But from what I’ve heard, he’s way too young to own an estate like that, unless he’s Vizimir’s bastard son or someone. Cannot be older than twenty-five.”

An illegitimate prince?

That would explain the size of the estate, Geralt thinks, And all the paintings, enormous beds and polished wood furniture. That would explain the giant garden and the stables with multiple horses. The way Julian dresses, those expensive silks that he wasn’t afraid of getting stained with blood when he was stitching the wounds on Geralt’s shoulder without pushing back the sleeves of his chemise.

Suddenly, it all makes a little too much sense and Geralt is so taken aback by the thought that for a moment, he feels just as overwhelmed as he did that evening in the mansion, when Julian had invited him in.

He could easily be Vizimir’s illegitimate son. The math is very simple. If Julian is twenty-five - and he cannot be older than that, by the looks of him - Vizimir had already been crowned king when he’d been born.

How hard can it be for the king of Redania to send an illegitimate son away from prying eyes while still providing him with the comfort of what’s nearly a castle? Geralt had heard of monarchs that loved their illegitimate children just as much as they loved the heirs to the throne.

"Do you live here alone?"

"Depends on how you look at it. My majordomo lives here, in the mansion, and a little further into the garden, there is a house where the gardeners, the housekeepers and everyone else that works for me resides. So technically, no, I don't live here alone. But if you mean family, then yes."

Geralt shakes his head and makes himself concentrate on his ale.

"What does an illegitimate prince want in these areas? Any major city is weeks away," he says.

The innkeeper shrugs and wipes his hands off on a dirty towel.

"Who knows what's going on in the heads of the royalty?" he says. "It can be a summer house for all I know. But in this town, we all believe pretty much the same thing. No one has that kind of wealth unless they're close to politics."

Geralt hums, falling silent for a few seconds before asking:

“And you’ve never seen him in town?”

The innkeeper chuckles humorlessly.

“What can someone that owns a mansion like that want from a place like this? I bet one room in that estate costs more than this entire town, twice.”

***

After he leaves his place by the bar and makes his way up to his room, Geralt gets into bed as soon as he sheds his armour but finds himself unable to sleep.

He knows he shouldn’t dwell on it, shouldn’t even really consider it an option, but the thought of Julian being a prince - legitimate or not - does not leave his mind. It doesn’t help just how much sense it makes. Geralt’s only seen interiors like that in castles, on those rare occasions that he’d set foot in them.

But then again, all of those castles were nothing but displays of the monarch's wealth while as the mansion felt lived-in and loved. Like all the painting, all the sculptures and figures, all the velvet and silk had been hand-picked by Julian to accommodate to his own understanding of beauty.

Geralt has never been the one to let any kinds of obsessive thoughts get the best of him but this one he just couldn’t seem to get out of his head.

He’s not even sure he can make the rest of the way to the mansion in the morning. The idea of giving dog collars to someone who might be the son of Redania’s king suddenly sounds laughable. He’s probably got anything and everything he wants in that mansion and, surely, dog collars are included.

But, well, Geralt’s already got them. He’s not going to carry them around in his saddlebags forever.

The witcher curses under his breath, turning for what seems like the hundredth time of the night to try and finally settle in comfortably.

Making an effort over himself, he closes his eyes and clears his mind of any thoughts, sinking into meditation that will allow him to fall asleep peacefully.

After all, he’s only going to give the collars to Arthur.

#the witcher #geraskier #geralt x jaskier #geralt/jaskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #the drug the dark the light the flame #my writing #calton writes

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helianskies · 3 years

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👀💕💕💕💕

2 and 17 wips look pretty interesting to me (of course there are many others... But I'm trying to restrain myself here ahahah)

self-restraint? never heard of her! *ahem* i'll kick this off then with numero 2, which is a... fun selection ;)

(check out my response for numero 17 over here!)

2. uni mates reunion but there's a twist

Arthur was nervous—uncharacteristically so. It had been, what, six, seven years since they had all been together? And sure, he had been the one to approach them all and ask, 'hey, fancy having a group reunion and meeting up?' because apparently he was insane, now! He'd lost his mind over the past few years!

Ever the optimist, he told himself as he watched the train he'd taken all the from East to West depart from the station and continue on its journey. It had taken a lot (of tea, and beer) for him to psych himself up to go ahead with this plan but, as he'd reasoned with himself for the past month and at that very moment: they agreed to this, so they clearly want to do this, too. He told himself the same thing over and over as he left the train station, found the right bus to the right side of the city centre, and continued the next short leg of his trip.

It was strange to be back here. It was the very city that the four of them—Arthur, Francis, Antonio and Gilbert—had studied in together, where they had forged their friendship and what they had once considered an unbreakable bond. That bond would have remained, had it not been for Arthur…

That was too depressing a thought, however, and something he feared would ruin the mood and send him running for the hills. It was something he didn’t want to come up in conversation, and would certainly avoid himself; he’d been thought of as crazy back then, and it would do him no favours if that perception was reinstated. He remained surprised that they had seriously agreed…

Of course, that was far from the only surprise he’d received recently. Getting in touch with the infamous trio had revealed that Francis and Antonio had gotten back together after graduation (despite how messily it had ended the second time), and now ran a small bakery with a smaller coffee shop attached, and in the meantime, Gilbert had a ‘sensible’ R&D job for some big European business (though he fortunately worked in London, so he’d have had a similar journey to Arthur).

They were doing well for themselves, in essence, compared to Arthur, who… was coasting, floating between jobs, still trying to find something he liked or was good at…

A life of bad luck, that was what Arthur had. If it wasn’t a car accident whilst at university (Antonio had been there, too), or work keeping him away from his family (he hadn’t seen them for months), or his flat going up in flames (granted, with two other units, in a severe case of bad wiring), then it was smaller things: sudden illness, scratches on his car, losing his bank card—it was never-ending!

Before he knew it, nevertheless, he was at his stop. He stood from his seat, let the passengers who had been sitting behind him on the bus pass and leave first, then continued off himself, thanking the driver as he went. Welcome back to the best years of your life! God, it had been so, so long since he'd been here…

Google Maps took over the navigation for him for the next five minutes. He found himself walking along main roads along with clumps of people—locals and potential tourists down for the weekend—and turning down a few streets towards the harbour, until, at last: La Belle Affaire. An interesting name that Arthur had a feeling would have taken some serious arguing over. Francis would be happy to have it in French, at least!

Being careful as he crossed the road (the lack of a crossing was not so great) Arthur headed straight for the establishment. It seemed relatively busy. Which was good for them, he supposed, but it only made him feel more nervous, hands becoming clammy and stomach threatening to erupt like Vesuvius. This was definitely a mistake, he told himself as he averted his eyes from the bakery he now stood in the window of in favour of burying his face in his phone, checking the group messages in case he'd hallucinated the entire agreeme—

Nope, there it was in blue and white, a message that morning from Francis: 'Safe journey @arthur and @Gilbert, we'll have something special just for you when you arrive!'. Definitely not a hallucination. Definitely still a mistake.

Why did he do this sort of crap to himself?

"'Cause I'm a glutton for punishm—"

There was a sudden knocking behind him, someone banging gently on the glass, and Arthur very nearly dropped his phone. He simply lost his breath instead. Whilst he tried to recover it, along with his composure, he turned to see Gilbert in the window, who, when he realised he'd finally been noticed, gave a great big grin and an enthusiastic wave, before jabbing a finger violently in the direction of outside. Or was it Arthur? It was a bit hard to te—

"Arthur!"

He lost his breath again. But this time, it had been squeezed from him like juice from a lemon, the result of a fierce hug. Antonio! It took a few seconds for Arthur to reciprocate (and even then, it was a struggle—a half-hearted nerve-ridden gesture) and then, before he thankfully had to ask, Antonio pulled away and smiled with the same sunshine and sparkle as he had possessed all those years ago.

"It's so good to see you," the brunette remarked, "I was worried I wouldn't recognise you, but you haven't changed a bit!"

Arthur gave a meek laugh. "'S that a good or bad thing?" He didn't personally think it brilliant, but then, Antonio hadn't changed at all—baby-faced and mop-headed as he always had been—either, and Gilbert, based on quick glance, seemed to be a similar story…

"Nooo, I think that's good!" Antonio assured him. "Makes me feel younger that way. Fran swears he found a grey hair the other day and you won't believe the panic it put him in!"

That made Arthur scoff. "Oh, no, trust me: I can believe it," he said. "Go on, does he still have his skincare regime? With the mask things and big hair band?"

"God, yeah! It's a strict routine and I don't think he's ever skipped a day," Antonio replied with a soft laugh that went replicated. "He's a creature of habit for sure, but hey, you'll agree with me when you see him: the man should be in front of the cameras, not selling bread here with me!"

"Oi, losers, ya coming inside or what?"

Both of them turned to Gilbert who hung in the doorway of the bakery. Blocking some customers trying to leave at the same time, too, bless him—the minor public nuisance they all knew and loved. He hadn’t changed much either, it seemed. That was reassuring. That would just leave—

“Francis should be back in a minute, so we can wait outside for him,” Antonio suggested, though the wave he gave as well was a clear gesture for Gilbert to get out of the way of other people—a passive way to get him to move without dragging him, Arthur supposed. Antonio then looked to the blonde: “He had to run a quick errand just around the corner and wanted to do it before you showed up. I told him to wait, but you know what he’s like: a perfectionist to the end!”

Nope, Francis hadn’t changed, either. Good, good...

“Glad to know Fran’s still Fran,” Gilbert chuckled. “Does he still spend ages on his hair and do the whole face routine thing?”

“That’s what I asked!”

“Stop bullying him when he can’t defend himself,” Antonio chided (albeit, light-heartedly), rolling his eyes about his head. “I’ll bet you two are just like you were back then, too!”

Gilbert and Arthur shared a look in that moment—one that said ‘well maybe, but let’s not give him the satisfaction’ as their faces scrunched up and they shook their heads. Antonio was successfully silenced. For about… three seconds.

“See?” he said. “You’re still as insufferable!”

“Uhh, that’s a bit fucking rude!”

“I mean… he’s not technically wrong, Gil.”

“W-Well, no! But there’s no need to point it out!”

“Oh, I felt every need,” the brunette said, suddenly looking like the cat who got the cream, “he’s my husband, poor guy, and I take my vows to defend him very seriously!”

Gilbert scoffed as Arthur found himself surprised by yet another thing (when did they actually get married? I didn’t see that on Facebook, I had no idea, I thought they were just 'partners'—) as he took note of a thin gold band that had materialised on a tanned finger, and as Antonio’s attention was stolen by something across the street and he smiled (and maybe even waved), and then as Gilbert began to say, ‘Yeah, ‘til death do you part!’ but then also as everything was interrupted with a screech, a handful of screams, a thud, and white noise.

Arthur had no idea what had happened in that soul-splintering moment. He saw everything in slow motion, it seemed—the way Antonio’s face gradually shifted from joy to horror, or how Gilbert turned and gained a similar expression, or the people who appeared in the bakery window, or the others who started to run to the area, or the car that raced on down the road—and it was only as he turned himself to face the crossing-less street that he saw—

“Francis!”

Antonio ran. Gilbert followed. Arthur stood there on the pavement, slowly paling, feeling sick, telling himself: you brought your bad luck with you, you should have never suggested this! He wanted to run away, almost, but what good would it do? He wanted to help, but what good would it do? He watched as the crowd formed and swarmed—as Antonio pushed through, screaming, shouting, begging—but he knew it was for nothing.

Because standing on the other side of the road was Francis, looking confused and unnerved, a small bag of shopping in his hand. And Arthur—I’m so sorry, Fran—was the only one who could see him.

︵‿︵ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ .*

dun dun duuuuun!

since you've also asked for numero 17, i'll post it separately once it's finished and then link both posts together - just so no one's kept waiting! thanks for the request (and for the actual suggestion to do this heheh) <3

#helia answers #hws england #hws spain #hws prussia #hws france #yeah so arthur can see ghosts that's like the whole point #that's it that's the story #ripperoni in pepperoni to francis but the irony was too good to pass up #'til death do us part indeed sorry toni :')

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fantasy2739 · 4 years

Text

@wondermia69 you asked for a lil angst with some father son and I hope I’ve achieved.

I hope you like it!

Douxie was not going to cry. He wasn’t. He’d only been staying with Merlin for a month and he’d already broken, spilt, messed up and even blown up almost every item in the workshop. He didn’t mean to. He just wanted to use magic and Merlin kept telling him it wasn’t a shortcut. He wondered if it would ever get through his head. Today he’d managed to trip and knock over a stack of documents that he was pretty sure had just been sorted yesterday. Merlin had sighed and told him to tidy it up with everything in the correct order. Douxie was almost certain that he’d heard Merlin mutter that his new apprentice may be more trouble than he was worth. Which hurt. Especially given the timing... Douxie wasn’t going to think about that. He was definitely not going to cry over his mentor thinking he wasn’t worth it.

It took him four hours to sort out the documents. He’d had to read them all to work out what order they should go in. He was behind on his other chores. Merlin had been studying some schematics for his ‘special weapon’, not that Douxie was allowed to look at or even touch that part of the workshop. Finished with the documents, Douxie straightened and grabbed his broom. He started sweeping, keeping far away from the freshly stacked documents. Knowing his luck he’d knock them over again. Merlin disappeared at some point, probably to talk to King Arthur. Douxie figured he could use a little magic now that his mentor was gone. Enchanting the books to pick themselves up would be fine. He’d been practicing. He’d seen Merlin do it a thousand times and it seemed pretty easy. It started out fine, books stacked themselves neatly, papers ended up on shelves. Then Merlin came back in, only for four books to shoot directly at him. The old wizard was skilled enough to avoid getting smacked in the face.

“Hisirdoux! How many times have I told you not to use magic when doing your chores?” Merlin snapped, waving his hand to send the offending books to their shelves.

“Sorry Master.” Douxie said. “I was just so behind on my chores I thought I’d speed it up a little.” Merlin sighed, looking very much like he wanted to bury his face in his hands. Another book went flying into a workshop bench, scattering documents and raw materials. Douxie winced as he saw the disarray. “I can fix that.” Merlin shook his head.

“No, you’ve caused enough damage for one day.” He said, causing Douxie’s shoulders to slump. “Go to your room and try not to make any more messes along the way.” Douxie nodded, averting his eyes as he walked past Merlin wishing for all the world he wasn’t so accident prone.

Merlin watched the boy leave, before repairing the damage done to his workshop. There hadn’t been the usual argument, no ‘but master’, or begging to be allowed to stay up to try some new spells. Merlin tried not to dwell on that. Hisirdoux had been clumsier recently, which instead of asking about, Merlin just snapped and griped about. He should go check on the boy, he’d taken him in after all. Merlin rarely ventured to Douxie’s room, figuring he should have somewhere to call his own. He could hear talking coming from inside and couldn’t help but listen.

“Come on Douxie, it’s not that bad.” Archie was saying.

“You didn’t hear him Arch. He said I wasn’t worth the trouble.” Hisirdoux replied. Merlin winced slightly, recalling he had said that earlier. He didn’t think Hisirdoux had heard him but the boy was always aware of his surroundings despite managing to damage everything in a five mile radius.

“It’s not like he told you to leave.” Archie pointed out. “I doubt Merlin is the type to beat around the bush about these things.”

“I know I’m not the greatest student.” Hisirdoux mumbled. “But I’m trying. I want to be good at magic. Get a staff, just like Merlin.”

“You are good at magic Douxie.” Archie assured him. “You just need a practice.” Merlin was glad Douxie had his familiar. The little furball might grate on his nerves sometimes but he kept Hisirdoux happy.

“I’ve been practicing.” Hisirdoux said. “I think I’m one practice session from Merlin booting me out.”

“He’s not your parents Douxie.” Archie said softly and Merlin backed away from the door. He didn’t know much about Hisirdoux’s past before he became his apprentice. He’d seen a street boy who’d managed to scam a fair amount of Camelot. He’d thought the boys parents were dead, which would have been a blessing if he heard Archie right. Merlin made his way back to his own chambers. Maybe he could be a little nicer, just to assure Hisirdoux he wasn’t going to be chucked out despite his many many accidents.

Douxie walked into the workshop for yet another day of sweeping, promising to himself he wouldn’t use magic. He knew he would later but hopefully not in front of Merlin. He started to wipe down the surfaces.

“You can put that down Hisirdoux.” Merlin said, staff in hand. Douxie tried not to let the panic show on his face. He braced himself for Merlin to berate him. “Today we’re going to train.” Douxie stared at Merlin.

“Are you going to teach me some new spells?” He asked, feeling cheered.

“Of course. You are after all a wizards apprentice, are you not?” Merlin said with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes Master.” Douxie said, happily following the man to an empty room they used to practice. Merlin started explaining the infinite hallway spell. The first few attempts didn’t go well. Douxie half expected a sigh and to be told to practice alone for a while. But there wasn’t. Instead Merlin stroked his chin and considered.

“The key to this spell is imagining the hallways are connected. It can be tricky to get your head around.” He said, gently adjusting Douxie’s stance. “Give it another go.” Douxie tried again and again, finally conjuring a small portal. “Good, now make another one, that’s it.” Douxie had two small portals. A person wouldn’t fit through but it was a start. Douxie smiled up at Merlin, who gave him a fond expression. He gave Douxie a pat on the shoulder. “That’s enough for today. I think I hear a hot meal beckoning.” Douxie smiled, releasing the portals. “You did well today Hisirdoux.” Douxie’s blinked before ducking his head shyly. He wasn’t used to praise.

“Thank you Master.” He said. A hand was on the small of his back gently guiding him out the door. One more pat and Merlin was moving off to the kitchen. Douxie hurried after him, feeling much better than the night before.

#fanfiction #toa #toa merlin #toa archie #douxie #hisirdoux casperan #toa wizards #tales of arcadia #submisison #prompt #father son #angst #not like bad angst #douxie has some of the lowest self esteem #this poor boy #tales of arcadia wizards

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halothenthehorns · 3 years

Text

TLTNL- LUNA LOVEGOOD

James had never found it such a struggle in his life to get started on his part of the book. Even homework had never felt this bad. They weren't naïve, they all had known when stepping into the Order they should be expecting a short mortality rate, but for it to be so hard pressed into them on top of the honestly much crueler parts of hearing the living people's futures. James had to work hard to collect himself, to glance at his wife, son, and friends around him to remind himself why he kept going. For the change that had to come, the good there had to be in being forced to live through this.

Harry had troubled dreams the next night full of his parents vacantly smiling faces, Mrs. Weasley sobbing over Kreacher's dead body,

"That is the most unrealistic dream you've ever had," Sirius scoffed at that rather than letting the first part linger in his mind longer that it had to.

all watched by Ron and Hermione with crowns, then he was again traveling down a dark corridor with a locked door.

Harry rubbed absently at his scar, wishing this would quit being mentioned already as it never failed to leave him uneasy.

He awoke to Ron already talking to him about how his mum was going ballistic about them running late, and Harry had to dress at top speed while listening to Molly's screaming at the twins. Apparently they'd tried to enchant their luggage to go down the stairs rather than carrying them, and they'd instead collided with their sister on the way down.

They all frowned in pity for that, hoping Ginny wasn't hurt too bad, and entirely sure Molly's yelling most likely wasn't necessary that time, the twins were most likely feeling guilty enough for that move. Harry only partially disagreed, in envisioning himself jumping down those stairs to make sure she was alright while giving the twins a good telling off himself.

Mrs. Black and Mrs. Weasley were both screaming at the top of their voices.

"I'm sure going to miss hearing about this," Sirius said with utter sarcasm, he was looking forward to Harry going back to school more than anyone just so he didn't have to keep hearing about this place.

Mrs. Weasley yelling about how they could have done her a serious injury!

"I would never hurt her!" Sirius yelped as he pressed his hand to his heart while James ignored him and Harry's light smile.

While Walburga Black's continued shouting of the half-breeds besmirching the house of her father's!

Hermione came poking in to return Hedwig to him while telling him Ginny was alright, but Mrs. Weasley was in a fit because Podmore wasn't here, so the guard was one short and now everyone was in a bad mood because Mad-Eye still wanted to wait.

Harry asked what a guard was for, and Hermione reminded for him to get to King's Cross.

"They've been so inconsistent with that, I'd really love a chart on where they stand," Lily muttered.

Harry was getting testy as he demanded of her if the Order thought Voldemort would jump from behind a bin to do him in?

"That's ridiculous, he's too tall, he wouldn't fit behind one," Remus deadpanned.

"More likely a street light," James tacked on with a stupid smirk mostly for remembering what those were.

Hermione hardly acknowledge the remark she was so distracted, while Mrs. Weasley cut them off entirely by bellowing at them to get down these stairs, please!

"I think using manners while shouting is a bit of an oxymoron," Sirius smirked.

Hermione jumped as though scalded and hurried out of the room, while Harry seized Hedwig and stuffed her unceremoniously into her cage,

"I'm sure she just loved that," Lily snorted.

Mrs. Black's portrait kept up a running commentary of the mudbloods and scum running around her house, but no one bothered to silence her, the noise would only continue.

Harry finally reached the front door ready to go while Molly told him he'd be going with her and Tonks.

"Couldn't describe a more perfect background noise," Sirius snipped, trying to count down the seconds until this place would be mentioned no more.

He was to leave his trunk here, Alastor was taking the luggage seper- then she cut off in exasperation to Sirius Dumbledore had said no!

"I can not remember a time where that word has stopped me from doing anything," Sirius sniffed with the happiest smile on his face Harry had yet seen when he was mentioned inside this place.

A bear-like black dog had appeared as he was clambering over the various trunks cluttering the hall to get to Mrs. Weasley.

Harry cracked up laughing as he remembered seeing the pooch, who always seemed to carry a far more carefree attitude than his human godfather.

She gave in though, saying it was his own head as she opened the door.

"There's the proper response," Lily agreed, her voice far less begrudging than Harry was expecting, which meant even she must think it was a good idea for him to be getting some air.

The moment they were outside, the screeches inside were cut off.

"For the last time, hopefully," Sirius muttered without any real feeling, knowing he wouldn't be so lucky.

Harry asked where Tonks was. Molly said waiting for them at the end of this street, purposely avoiding looking at the frollicking black dog.

Even Sirius couldn't help a light scowl for this woman never seeming to show a spot of fun. He wasn't doing anyone any harm by being out like this with Harry, you'd think she'd at least be grateful to him for the extra protection against Harry with his extra senses.

At the end of the street was an unrecognizable elder lady who greeted Harry with a Wotcher. The four took off, Molly still muttering about all these inconsistencies of Sturgis, and how Muggles could stand traveling without magic like this.

"Even hearing of some of the ways makes me still feel for them," James agreed with mild sympathy.

The dog was the most jubilant of the lot, galloping along at his will and barking at pigeons and his own tail for Harry's amusement. Mrs. Weasley continued avoiding acknowledging this with a very Aunt Petunia-ish style of pursed lips.

They were all still snickering lightly at listening to their carefree Padfoot to really take the chance and scowl at Molly for what they believed was a fair comparison in that moment.

It took them twenty minutes to reach King's Cross on foot and nothing more eventful happened during that time than Sirius scaring a couple of cats for Harry's entertainment.

Harry laughed all the harder while Sirius smirked for this, but the others were starting to feel just a touch of concern replace their happiness at hearing of Sirius being so carefree. If he wasn't careful, he'd draw too much attention to himself, and they certainly didn't want to risk hearing about that.

They got onto Platform nine and three quarters with ease and without incident, and as Harry stared at the billowing steam engine it really sunk in for him, he was going back!

Sirius watched that happy smile on Harry's face, and was suddenly even more personally grateful he could only join Harry as a dog. He wasn't entirely sure of the expression that would be there if he were human in that moment...

Mrs. Weasley was checking her watch anxiously for the others to arrive, while some fellow students were passing and Lee Jordan actually complimented the dog that was Sirius.

Sirius smirked and sat up a little straighter in pride, he rarely showed off his Padfoot form to be honest, but it was nice to get recognition for it.

Harry grinned at him while Sirius wagged his tail with excitement.

Lily rolled her eyes, she'd never wanted to see a smug expression transformed into a dog, trust Sirius to pull that off.

Alastor arrived next with all of their luggage, muttering about how he was sure they weren't followed.

Remus was gazing absently at that for a moment as he muttered to himself, "pretty sure a large majority of the population is arriving on this day, so even if they were followed, I mean even Malfoy was technically going that way and not-"

Sirius gave him a little nudge to get him to stop.

Arthur arrived next with Ron and Hermione, while Lupin came last with the twins and Ginny.

James smirked to himself as he imagined a few implications of that happening. Harry may not have noticed his friends taking any special interest in the twins, but James saw Remus doing this as a perfect opportunity to hopefully pass along a few Marauder ideas onto the clearly troublesome trio that wasn't his son and friends for once.

Even though everyone had arrived safe, Moody was still saying he'd be reporting Sturgis to Dumbledore, he was getting as unreliable as Mundungus.

Lily nibbled on her lip in fear for a moment for those implications but surely if something had happened to him they wouldn't all be acting like he'd just missed an appointment. Still, it didn't feel right him not showing up like this.

Lupin told them all to be careful while shaking their hand, reaching Harry last and adding on especially for him.

"Why did I need the add on," Harry mock demanded with wide eyes.

"If I've heard half the things from your past, you need far more than that," Remus rolled his eyes right back.

Moody agreed guards up, and to be careful what to put into writing. If in doubt, don't send the letter at all.

Harry could feel whatever humor he'd built up start to ebb away already, something of this scene and all of them at the train station for him leaving some lingering fear deep inside him as he looked once more to his godfather. What could that have to do with messages now...

Tonks was saying goodbye to the girls while Mrs. Weasley was going around hugging them all at random, managing to catch Harry twice.

"I'm so sure that wasn't an accident," Lily snorted softly.

In the last moment, the dog reared up onto his hind legs and placed its paws on Harry's shoulders,

Remus whacked him upside the head at the exact same time Lily snapped, "Sirius, you idiot!"

Sirius shrugged without remorse, thinking even if Harry came to visit him on Christmas holiday he was owed some kind of goodbye to him in whatever form he wanted.

but was shoved aside almost in the same moment by Molly pushing Harry towards the train while hissing at Sirius to act more like a dog.

"Because saying his name like that is the smart rebuke," James muttered even if Lily swatted him as well for not taking that more seriously.

They boarded the train as it began pulling from the station, but while everyone stayed in spot waving, Sirius began bounding alongside for a time, tail still wagging.

Harry gave one last snicker of delight even as his mother groaned into her hands what a moron her friend was for continuing to draw attention to himself like that. He couldn't just do one thing subtlety could he.

A few people along the train were laughing at the spectacle before the train rounded the bend, and Sirius was gone.

Harry felt a tight sharpening in this throat that made him very grateful he wasn't the one reading right now, he knew he couldn't have worked past that moment to ignore it if he'd been called out for it, and yet he did not for a second want to dwell on whatever that meaningless sentence was. He'd see Sirius again in no time of course.

Hermione at once muttered he shouldn't have come along.

"Merlin's pants, this girl once set a teacher on fire! Can she please stop trying to lecture others on how to act!" James snarled.

"She couldn't even do it to his face," Remus sniffed in agreement, "but waited until they were on the train and out of sight from him."

Ron told her to lighten up, he deserved to see the sun every few months.

"Least Ron sympathizes," Remus muttered approvingly, wishing he'd heard his opinion on this at some point, and honestly just as grateful he hadn't.

Fred and George departed at once. When Harry turned to his friends to go find a compartment, they reminded him that Prefects had to check in first and do a run of the train.

"Technically straight away," Remus agreed, "but I usually preferred to follow them and see where they were going to be first."

"Didn't make that any less awkward," Harry muttered as he sat there for a moment in shock as he realized he'd never ridden the train without Ron.

Ron wasn't looking at Harry now as Hermione told she was sure they wouldn't be gone the whole ride, while Harry listlessly agreed they'd catch up then, Ron agreeing with an anxious look.

"You think Hermione said something to him about how I first reacted?" Harry asked quietly.

They wanted to at once reassure Ron was just feeling as awkward as Harry for the moment he realized he couldn't be hanging around his friend the whole trip, but well, they wouldn't put it past Hermione at this point either to have warned Ron that Harry had a spot of jealousy there for a moment. That could leave Ron feeling all the more awkward for this.

Before he left Ron insisted this was a pain to do, he wasn't enjoying it. Finishing with defiance he wasn't Percy.

"Never believed he was," Sirius said with honest chipper.

Harry grinned for that, promising he couldn't swap them as he took Ron's owl and Ginny took Crookshanks, the four departing as Ginny offered to go find a place to sit with him.

"Least you get to stick around a Weasley," Remus said brightly while Harry suddenly got an awkward smile in place, something about him and Ginny in a compartment alone together that had his left hand suddenly being a bit more fidgety than normal.

They began passing along full compartments, and at first Harry thought it was his imagination all the lingering looks, but as he passed the fifth one and people did double takes upon his passing he remembered the Daily Prophets and all these people would have read about him over the summer.

"I thought first years always did that when they saw you," Lily murmured with discomfort.

"Not that many of them were younger kids," Harry muttered, any trace of that smile gone now to be replaced with a bleak scowl as he remembered all those articles he'd never read.

He wondered dully whether the people now staring and whispering believed the stories.

"Sounds like it," James grumbled, "but the way I see it, who cares."

Harry did manage some kind of laugh for that at least.

Towards the end they spotted Neville huffing along, toad in one hand and luggage in another as he greeted them, but said he couldn't find a place to sit either. Ginny peaked into the one he'd just passed and said there was only Loony Lovegood in here.

James paused with an awkward look on his face before glancing guiltily at his wife and friends saying, "I swear Ginny's the one who called her that. Who names their kid Loony?"

"Maybe it's a nickname?" Remus tried uneasily, thinking Ginny wouldn't have suggested it or called her such a thing otherwise.

"Well I definitely want to meet anyone who gets that kind of introduction," Sirius said with an interesting smirk.

Neville mumbled something about not wanting to disturb anyone.

"Either Neville's incredibly shy, or he already knows the background of this one," Sirius snickered with even more interest now.

"What was he planning on doing, spending the whole train ride in the halls?" James agreed, his awkward look quickly passing into mild curiosity as well.

Ginny told him he was being silly as she pushed past and entered, asking if they could sit. The two boys followed, and Harry at once picked up on why Neville had passed this girl by. She had long dirty blond hair and pale eyes that didn't seem to need to blink as much as normal. Holding a magazine upside down, with her wand behind her ear and wearing a necklace of Butterbeer corks, she gave off every impression of dottiness. She, however, nodded to Ginny.

By the time James was done, all three boys had the same odd smile in place, leaving Harry starting to wonder just how they'd introduce themselves to this girl, and rearing up some protective feelings in himself. They didn't look mean about it per say, but not like they were going to avoid her either. He decided to hold his tongue and see what they actually had to say about her first.

The three took seats while Luna went back to reading her magazine upside-down, Harry taking a moment to recognize the letters to distinguish The Quibbler.

Sirius was distracted for a moment by blinking in recognition of something he'd never heard of before, then it clicked and he said, "oh, isn't that the magazine Arthur and Kingsley mentioned regarding me."

"Oh yeah, didn't you ever read that?" James demanded of his son.

"No," Harry muttered as the last of his summer came pressing in on him all the harder of Sirius' avoidance of him, even something they could have shared a laugh over about whatever this article was.

Both boys realized they hadn't made anything any better by asking Harry about this so James quickly moved on.

She kept peeking at them over the top though, as Ginny asked how her summer had gone?

She said it was enjoyable, while saying to Harry he was Harry Potter.

James gave a mock gasp in shock and turned wide eyes on his son while demanding, "really? Why didn't you ever tell me?"

Lily clucked her tongue impatiently and waved him on before Harry could respond.

Harry said he was aware.

"His responses have gotten far better since the twins did that," Sirius snickered.

Neville laughed at the exchange, causing the girls attention to fall on him as she said she didn't know him. Neville quickly said he was nobody.

Lily's face puckered with disappointment at that, hoping it was Neville's lingering awkwardness not wanting him to add in rather than him really trying to even downplay his being in there like that. Either option was really sad.

Ginny corrected for him what his name was, then explained this was Luna, of her year but in Ravenclaw.

In response to this, Luna began in a singsong voice that wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure. Then as if this explained everything, she went back to her magazine.

Sirius had a torn expression on his face now, like he couldn't decide if he should be laughing or moving on from this, but James decided on the latter for him.

Harry and Neville exchanged perplexed looks while Ginny started giggling into her hand. The train kept going as the three of them struck up a conversation, Neville switching into what he got for his birthday.

Harry teased if it was another Remembrall, his grandmother was always trying to help him improve his memory.

"You didn't even mention the best parts of that gift last time," James got a dreamy look back on his face.

"Namely, getting you onto the Quidditch team as the youngest Seeker ever," Sirius emphasized like Harry would have forgotten this fact again.

Harry hadn't, but he laughed all the same for the reminder.

Neville laughed it off, saying he'd lost that thing ages ago,

"Bummer," Remus snorted.

but instead he pulled from his bag something resembling a cactus, but instead of spines it was covered in boils. He proclaimed with pride it was a Mimbulus mimbletonia.

"Why?" Sirius balked.

"Did you really just ask why it's named that?" Lily rolled her eyes at him.

"Well it is a dumb name," James agreed fairly, "I couldn't even read it with a straight face."

Harry stared at the thing. It was pulsating slightly, giving it the rather sinister look of some diseased internal organ.

"Fascinating description as always," Remus snickered.

Neville kept going without prompting it was really rare, there wasn't even one in the Hogwarts greenhouses. His Great Uncle Algie had gotten it for him while in Assyria.

"That bloke that dropped him out a window?" Lily demanded with a raised brow.

"And gave Neville his toad," Harry reminded sheepishly.

He was going to ask Professor Sprout if he could breed from it.

Sirius scratched absently at his ear as he tried to understand how, or why, you'd breed a plant, but honestly didn't care enough to ask.

Harry knew that Neville's favorite subject was Herbology but for the life of him he could not see what he would want with this stunted little plant.

"Least I'm not the only one," Sirius agreed.

Lily frowned at him and opened her mouth, possible to give him a life long lecture he'd been avoiding in all his skipped Herbology classes, and so was as thankful as ever his best mate could take a hint and ignored the both of them.

He asked if it had any special properties, and Neville agreed there were loads, starting with its defense mechanism. He at once wanted to show them, dumping Trevor into Harry's lap so he could fetch a quill and give one boil a good prod.

The instant results were not pleasant. Dark green sap flew in all directions, smothering everything in it's wake. Ginny was fast enough to throw her arms up and only result in her hair being covered, Luna's face was saved by the magazine, but Harry whose hands were still occupied with the toad, and Neville got a mouthful that tasted like rancid manure.

James took one moment to blink, blink again, and then promptly the whole room collapsed with laughter for the mental image, Harry included.

Harry rolled his eyes indulgently as they enjoyed his misfortune, but the blithe laughter was so needed in the tense room for so long he couldn't much stop his own laughter cracking through as he vividly remembered the scene.

Neville shook his head to get the worst out of his eyes.

"It's not poisonous is it?" Remus asked with more amusement than concern as clearly Harry was fine.

"Don't think so, but it stank worse than that troll did," Harry said.

He apologized as Harry spat out a mouthful, saying he'd never tried that before and he was fairly sure the Stinksap wasn't poisonous.

"You should really be thanking Neville for waiting to find that out around you," James said, not even bothering to hide his laughter at this misfortune one bit.

The next occurrence was the door sliding open and a timid voice to ask if this was a bad time. It was the Seeker of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team Cho Chang.

"That timing," Remus yelped with a wince of sympathy, while James utterly lost it and collapsed in his seat laughing his arse off.

"I'm just so glad you're getting your kicks out of this, considering I wouldn't have been surprised to walk in on you doing something similar," Lily told him to try and get him to stop, despite her own twitching lips for the hilarity of the moment. It had no affect on James this time, even all his remembered spurns from his wife couldn't quell this moment, so she snatched the book away from him and when even that didn't work, she had to go on even louder over him and his snickering friends.

He struggled to get a hello back, and she didn't stick around for much else as she said she'd catch up with him later.

"Well she doesn't seem much fun," Remus told him conversationally over his still giggling friends. "What girl wouldn't want to join in on this scene?"

Harry pouted at him and grumbled something about he hadn't wanted to join in this.

Harry slumped in his seat in defeat. He'd have much rather Cho found him sitting with a group of very cool people all laughing as he told a joke.

"You don't even know very cool people," Sirius chose now to point out to Harry. "It's not like we were in school with you at the time."

Harry really did whack his godfather upside the head for that, causing the others to laugh all the harder.

He would not have chosen to be sitting with Neville and Loony Lovegood, clutching a toad and dripping in Stinksap.

"But that's so much more memorable!" James wheezed out, finally coming back to himself and trying to grab the book back from Lily. She let it go, reluctantly. Harry would have protested if he could find his tongue yet, but it was still burning with the rest of his red face.

Ginny gave him a bracing moment, saying they could solve one problem now, and used Scourgify to rid the whole compartment of Stinksap.

"She couldn't have done that while Cho was there?" Sirius pouted.

"Why would she want to?" Lily reminded with a tittering laugh, Harry's face still astonishingly red and refusing to acknowledge his mindset telling him which girls name had given his stomach a flip at their picking.

Ron and Hermione didn't appear until well past lunch, the two coming in with their pets and Ron immediately taking a Chocolate Frog from Harry and slumping in his seat to eat it while looking exhausted.

"It's hardly fun to be doing that job," Remus agreed with sympathy.

She began to explain who the other Prefects were, but Ron cut her off at once to just guess who it was from Slytherin.

"Oh, he isn't," Remus groaned, finally sobering some of James' laughter as he scowled at the next word.

Malfoy, Harry said at once.

"Argh!" Sirius sneered in disgust. "I wish I was more surprised, but that pompous, arrogant little toe rag was probably Snape's only option to Dumbledore!"

"You'd really think some other Slytherin would get some attention at some point to help balance things out," Lily sighed with regret.

Hermione's own voice dripped with disdain as she agreed and also the girl for the job was that cow Pansy Parkinson, which was a miracle considering she was thicker than a concussed troll.

"I think I like it when Hermione insults people," Sirius grinned at that, though he was the only one as the others were still angry at her for the last person she'd insulted according to them.

Harry still asked for the rest and got a list of names, Ernie Macmillan and Hannah Abbott, and Anthony Goldstein and Padma Patil for Ravenclaw.

Luna interrupted to point out Ron had taken Padma to the Yule Ball last year. Ron gave her a look of surprise, before stating he was aware.

"Surprised he does remember that part, as he hadn't spoken a word to her all night," Lily arched a reproachful brow.

"Or surprised to find this Luna in there," James smirked.

Luna kept going without prompting that Padma hadn't enjoyed it very much because Ron had refused to dance with her. Luna tacked on she wouldn't have minded, she didn't like dancing.

"Was she trying to say she was wishing Ron had asked her?" Sirius blinked in surprise.

"I don't think so," Harry said with as much assurance as he could, "just, she wouldn't have minded it." Even a vague sweep of his memories showed nothing between Ron and Luna.

She went right back to her magazine while Ron stared at everyone with his mouth hanging open in shock. No one responded except for Ginny giggling behind her hand again.

The others weren't so sure after that, but they didn't really think Ginny would be giggling at Luna's attempts either, though that could have been because of her brothers face. They all let it go though as it could just be more of Luna's, quirkiness, that they'd already noticed.

He changed the subject by going back to telling Harry and Neville that Prefects were supposed to patrol the corridors every so often, and they could give out punishments.

"Honestly the only good part of the job," Remus agreed.

"Only if you abuse it," Lily muttered with a nasty look at him, he'd tried to dish out a few detentions to Snape once in awhile that hadn't always worked, but had clearly amused him at the time.

At once saying his target was going to be Crabbe and Goyle-

Hermione interrupted to say that was an abuse of power.

"That's an abuse of power!" Sirius smirked at his own brilliance while Remus smacked him for increasing the echo in here.

Ron gave back with full sarcasm Malfoy wouldn't be doing that at all.

"I'll kiss Kreacher if you don't catch him doing so in the first week," Sirius scoffed.

Hermione reminded that would only be descending to his level then.

"The only people that take the high road are the ones who don't know the secret tunnels," Sirius smirked.

"That was convoluted," Lily rolled her eyes at him, now repressing the urge to smack the lot of them.

Ron returned he was just doing to Malfoy before he could return on Ron's friends. Going on over Hermione's exasperation he'd make Goyle start with lines.

Harry could feel his right fist clenching unconsciously at the mention of that, for this year in particular for some reason...

Screwing up his face and using an imitation of the brutes voice to start mock writing in the air he must not look like a baboon's backside.

"Well that's just cruel," Remus smirked, "as he obviously can't help any such thing."

Everyone laughed,

"I love that means even Hermione cracked," Sirius chuckled.

but nobody laughed harder than Luna. Who let out a scream of mirth and then continued so hard her magazine fell right to the floor, gasping her sides for breath and declaring that was funny! Her wide eyes had tears coming out of them as she gazed at Ron, who was now looking at her with concern and asked if she was taking the mickey?

"I was just fixing to ask you the same thing," James finished with a bewildered stare at his son.

Harry opened his mouth, struggled to come up with any real comment, and then just shrugged with a bemused smile still in place.

Everyone else was now laughing just as hard at Luna's reaction, but Harry had caught sight of the right side up of the magazine cover, and dived to have a look. Fudge was on the front, in a badly drawn doodle form, and appeared to be strangling a goblin.

"That seems a little violent, even for Fudge," Lily frowned in confusion.

"What kind of magazine was this again?" James asked before remembering Harry had never heard of it so reading on curiously.

The cartoon was captioned: How Far Will Fudge Go to Gain Gringotts?

"As if the Ministry would ever be stupid enough to step in there," Remus scoffed.

He closed the pages to the cover and read The Quibbler.

Until this moment he had completely forgotten the magazine Kingsley had handed Mr. Weasley to give to Sirius, but it must have been this edition of The Quibbler.

Other titles on the front included one about the corruption of the Tornados, an ancient secret in Ancient Runes, and Sirius Black: Villain or Victim?

James at once felt like a weight had been slammed into him as he read that last one, the others gasping wildly while Sirius nearly fell of the couch in excitement as he squealed, "really?" He'd gone so long now with everyone in this future thinking him a crazy madman, he couldn't believe there was a person outside the Order who was putting this out there!

James would never dream of making something like that up as he started back with high pitched excitement, the bubble of hope bouncing around inside him almost unfamiliar to him now.

He found the page, and turned excitedly to the article.

This, too, was illustrated by a rather bad cartoon; in fact, Harry would not have known it was supposed to be Sirius if it hadn't been captioned. Sirius was standing on a pile of human bones with his wand out. The first sentence began:

SIRIUS - BLACK AS HE'S PAINTED?

"Merlin's pants, don't encourage the man's ideas for more name puns," Remus muttered even as he listened eagerly to see if someone other than them realized Sirius' innocence.

Notorious mass murderer or innocent singing sensation?

James had to squint hard at that, realized his eyes weren't playing tricks on him, and then kept going loudly more out of confusion and still some real hope in there anyone was going to shed some light on his innocent friend.

Harry had to read that sentence several times before he was convinced that he had not misunderstood it. Since when had Sirius been a singing sensation?

"Err, never," Remus kept trying to pick at his ear like he was sure he was hearing wrong, even if all the other blank faces were proof enough. "I mean, he's not bad, but-"

James interrupted what he found entirely pointless, to read, for once in his life.

For fourteen years Sirius Black has been believed guilty of the mass murder of twelve innocent Muggles and one wizard.

James was just grateful the article hadn't supplied the name of that wizard...

The rest of the article covered the details of Black and his escape, no one had ever argued the point the man deserved to go right back to the Prison, but did he?

New evidence had been uncovered by Doris Purkiss, 18, in stating Black wasn't even present at the killings.

"Okay, you started off really well, but then..." Lily trailed off as she wasn't sure what else to say about any of this. Of course Sirius had been there, but honestly she'd still take a fake reason for the Ministry letting this go and investigating further than the full truth, anything to get just one win, even a bitter one of that rat still not being their next victim.

Mrs. Purkiss continues with enthusiastic detail that in fact Sirius Black wasn't even his real name, but in fact a pseudonym. He was really Stubby Boardman, the lead singer of The Hobgoblins. Now a retired man who wanted privacy, Stubby couldn't have been at those murders because he'd been having a romantic dinner with Mrs. Purkiss that night. She'd written all of this to the Ministry and was expecting a full pardon for Stubby any day now.

James looked up to indicate he was done, to find Sirius with an actual look of consideration on his face before nodding and saying, "you know what, I'll take that. It's not as good as what I was hoping for, but honestly, I'll take anything at this point."

Lily still looked torn on whether she was supposed to be laughing or not, while Remus gave in and just started laughing because he wasn't sure what else to do with this new information. It seemed ludicrous in the way it was put, but he was on Sirius' side with one major point, his friend deserved some kind of break even if it was this one.

James couldn't find the room in him to laugh this off like the others, he was too busy realizing that Stinksap had just drowned his little hope bubble and now he felt like a fool for thinking Sirius could get off so easily. He forced himself to keep going past his stupid moment and ignored whatever looks he was getting from the others.

Harry finished reading and came to the only conclusion, this must be a spoof magazine.

Harry was still looking on with a bemused expression, thinking his own thoughts weren't too far off on what was going on here.

He flicked back a few pages and found the piece on Fudge.

Cornelius Fudge, the Minister for Magic, denied that he had any plans to take over the running of the Wizarding Bank, Gringotts.

"I don't know anyone who would have thought otherwise," Lily muttered.

Yet inside sources inside the Ministry had claims of the very opposite. His friends had even been known to call him the Goblin-Crusher. Apparently the man would go on for ages about the stories of the Goblins he'd drowned, baked into pies- Harry stopped reading there.

James couldn't help his face to be twisted with agitation at the end. As if Sirius' story wasn't ludicrous enough, it had to be in the same magazine as this drivel. Great, so apparently the only one who could possible be rooting for Sirius' freedom besides them was a tabloid on par with Rita.

The others were feeling the same way, as depressed by their hopes being shot down as they had been at all the things said about him of late. Only Sirius could keep that insufferable smile in place that was getting harder by the moment to fake.

Fudge might have many faults but Harry found it extremely hard to imagine him ordering goblins to be cooked in pies.

"Credit for originality," Remus sighed, wishing he could laugh at this more, but losing any fun it could have considering how harsh the blow was this was being looked at as a joke.

He flicked through the rest of the magazine. Pausing every few pages, he read: an accusation that the Tutshill Tornados were winning the Quidditch League by a combination of blackmail, illegal broom-tampering and torture; an interview with a wizard who claimed to have flown to the moon on a Cleansweep Six and brought back a bag of moon frogs to prove it;

"I don't even know where to start with that one," James muttered as his brows crept towards his hairline.

One page did show why she'd been holding it upside so long, there was a spell that showed if you flipped some Ruins on their heads you could turn enemy's ears into kumquats.

"Least that one's useful," Remus pretended to laugh.

In fact, compared to the rest of the articles in The Quibbler, the one about Sirius was sensible.

"See, Harry agrees with me," Sirius snorted.

As Harry lowered it, Ron asked if he found anything interesting?

Hermione answered for him, saying of course not, The Quibbler was nothing but rubbish.

"Guess I'm not surprised she's heard of it," Lily sighed.

"Did she really have to say that while Luna was reading it," Harry frowned, that protective surge raising for her of all people. "Luna could enjoy reading that for fun."

"We've well established Hermione doesn't take note of who's around her when she speaks her mind," James sniffed.

Luna's voice lost any trace of dreamy quality as she turned coldly to Hermione and stated her father was the editor.

"Ah," Remus said with a flinch on Hermione's part, she was just getting on everyone's nerves of late. "She managed to make that even worse."

"Another specialty of hers," James muttered.

Hermione stumbled in embarrassment, but Luna ignored anything more she tried to say as she snatched her magazine back and disappeared back behind it. No one could speak more as the compartment opened again, showing Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle.

"Have we yet to go a train visit without this one buggering in?" Sirius blustered, more than happy to switch off topic of that magazine, but not to this.

"Second year," Harry offered without any emphasis.

"And even then, I'll take the Whomping Willow over him," James huffed.

Harry snapped 'what' at him at once. Malfoy retaliated by saying Potter had better start showing his manners, or he'd get detention.

"Merlin's pants, end me now so I won't have to live with this for the next three books," Sirius groaned in disgust.

"I always counted my blessings Snively was never made Prefect for this exact reason," James groaned in disgust.

Because Malfoy, unlike Potter, was a Prefect, so Malfoy could hand out punishments.

Harry returned that he, unlike Malfoy, was not a git, so get out!

Causing everyone in here to laugh lightly.

Everyone but Luna got a laugh out of that while Malfoy's lip curled as he asked Harry how it must feel to be second best to a Weasley.

"Wouldn't know," Harry snarked back under his breath.

This time Hermione told him to shut up, while Malfoy kept going as if she hadn't spoken, saying Potter had better watch himself, because Malfoy would be dogging his step.

Sirius opened his mouth with a happy little smirk in place, but Remus gave him such a hard whack over the head he yipped in protest and looked actually offended. "What the bloody hell was that for?"

"Malfoy recognized you, you idiot," he snapped back. "A whole mess of problems could be going on now because of that."

"Like what?" He demanded, still rubbing at the spot and looking more petulant than worried. "It's not a secret I'm going to be around Harry or that anyone on that platform with Harry was an Order member, they were all loyal to Dumbledore. Besides, exaggerating much Moony? People say dogging all the time."

"Trust me, we know, you always had to make the crack at school about how you'd better be extra careful to watch your step with them talking about you," James rolled his eyes. "I just wish you'd taken your own advice for once."

"You lot are ridiculous," Sirius sniffed, but he couldn't think how to argue back anymore either as James kept going with a lot more anxiety now.

Hermione got to her feet now as she told him to get out, and for now he did so. Her and Harry exchanged a worried look as Ron asked for Harry to pass him another Frog.

"Or maybe he just doesn't read into every stupid little detail," Sirius sniffed, still rubbing the back of his head more for exaggerating his point than anything. Remus was now ignoring him.

Harry couldn't say anything with Neville and Luna present, but the worry was now curling away inside him. At first it had seemed like a laugh for Sirius to come along, but upon reflection he found it downright dangerous. Hermione had been right, Sirius shouldn't have come today.

"Gah!" Sirius snarled in frustration as he turned on Harry. "Not you too, what is wrong with the lot of you, acting like everything I do is a bad idea lately."

"Because it is," Lily told him like she was scolding a naughty child.

"Well we can't say it's new at least," Remus muttered.

What if the elder Malfoy had recognized the black dog? What if he figured out that all of those people with him could know where Sirius was?

"Again, not a very well kept secret, if the Death Eaters know half as much as I think they do," Sirius reminded with a particularly ugly look in place for where they could have possibly learned all that information.

Or had Malfoy's use of the phrase dogging been a pure coincidence?

The rest of the train ride continued without incident, the lot of them changing into their uniforms and finally pulling into the station. As they began departing, Ron and Hermione requested their pets be taken up for them so they could go and look after the students again.

"That's inconvenient," Remus said just to make James stop reading with so much strain of late. Despite their worry, Remus just had to remember Sirius was going to be fine, he had to be. "I always wonder why we couldn't just leave our pets on the train as well as our luggage, the house-elves would only release them same as we do once inside."

James only agreed absently, clearly still reading with his mind back on that grim place Sirius was back at.

Luna offered to carry Pig instead of Harry, who reluctantly handed over Ron's owl so he could more securely hold Hedwig. They shuffled outside into the light rain, Harry shuffling through towards the carriages even as he listened for the familiar sound of Hagrid's voice calling for the first years.

Instead a vaguely familiar woman's voice began doing so.

"What?" They all muttered in confusion, Harry with absolute concern as his mind swapped from a nagging worry he couldn't understand about Sirius, to whoever this vaguely familiar voice had been.

Harry swung wildly around to find Professor Grubbly-Plank, a woman who had substituted a few of Hagrid's Care of Magical Creatures classes last year.

"Where's Hagrid?" Harry demanded of no one.

Clearly no one around him knew, but it only seemed to make Harry's panicky feelings that much worse. First Sirius, now Hagrid, what was happening to all of his friends?

"Relax Harry," Lily managed a soothing voice quite well considering her own worry for the man she considered a friend even not having known him very well in her own time. Anyone who cared so much about Harry though she held a personal connection with. "He's been tied up with some creatures from time to time like last year with the Skrewts, I'm sure it's nothing to get worked up over."

No one really believed her, not even herself, as surely McGonagall or some other teacher would be out there then, not the replacement of Hagrid's last time he'd been missing whole classes.

He demanded at once where Hagrid was, and Ginny spoke up beside him no one knew, but they couldn't just stand around looking for him. Harry followed uneasily in her wake, still glimpsing around as if hoping Hagrid was here but hiding.

"I can't imagine why they'd both be out there," Remus disagreed gently.

He had to be here, Hagrid was someone he'd been most looking forward to coming back to. Yet there was no sign of him around.

Harry tried to convince himself he must just have a cold or something.

"That's, an option," Sirius said, though as unconvinced as Harry as Hagrid had a great immune system and rarely if ever got sick by anything like the sniffles.

He tried to find Ron and Hermione, to see their reaction to the reappearance of Grubbly-Plank, but could not spot them in the crowd either.

Harry couldn't help a nasty shiver, his return to Hogwarts felt foreboding with how alone he suddenly felt in that moment.

They arrived at the range of horseless carriages that always took them up to the school, and Harry hardly spared them a glance as he turned back to keep looking for his friends, but instead did a double take.

"Oh yeah, guess you'll be seeing those now," Remus blinked in surprise as he listened intently. He'd only known one person who'd watched someone die to see them in person, but despite the black circumstances that Harry now could, he'd much rather hear from him than his first source.

For once the carriages weren't horseless, but instead there was a creature standing between the shafts. Harry supposed they had a horse like body, but that's where the resemblance ended. Instead they were covered in scales, without an ounce of meat on them so that every bone protruded through the tight black coats, with wings folded along their withers and blank white eyes.

Harry's eyes had grown steadily wider as he recalled the presence of these beasts, the question coming out of him so quietly it took a second for Remus to realize he'd spoken at all.

"Why can I see them now?"

Remus couldn't stop the bubbling enthusiasm that always captured him when he was speaking of any beasts, even ones so grim as these. "They're such a rare thing, because only people who have seen death can see them."

Harry's eyes actually went wider at such an explanation, but his voice came out a bit more normal with the interaction. "So why am I seeing them now, and not when I left school last year."

Remus winced as he tried to explain this, "it really is a loose interpretation of 'seeing death.' It took you a while to, ah, process and recognize for the death of, well for it all to sink in." He hated watching Harry pail at even the remainder of this, so he kept babbling about the other facets that he both knew and had speculated on over the years just to keep a better focus. "Wonderful creatures really, highly intelligent, can travel anywhere just by your asking them to take you. We've mentioned they can carry Hagrid, that should tell you something of their strength, ah they're one of the rarest forms a patronus can take, oh and there's this fascinating rumor their tail is the core in the-"

"Can you see the patronus if you haven't seen someone die?" James cut him off as he'd never heard that one.

"I've never seen it in person, but the text I read certainly implied as much," Remus agreed. "It is your magical guardian after all, while still in patronus form."

Harry's eyes were still wide, though now with surprise at learning this than whatever his brain had been trying to process with something in regards to those things, and a trip? He shut that off and kept asking for more, "does that mean that persons animagus would be a Thestral as well? Could you see yourself if you transformed?"

"Yes, and honestly, I have no clue," Remus pouted at the end. "As I said, extraordinarily rare for this to occur, magical beasts in general take a very particular person to have such a thing as other animals are far more common."

Harry pouted as he'd have liked to keep this going, but James saw he was almost done with his chapter and so tried to finish.

Harry could not understand why the coaches were being pulled by these horrible horses when they were quite capable of moving along by themselves.

"It really would be nice to have someone mention this at some point," Lily winced. "I remember this second year girl I knew who cried when she saw them and no one else could, thought she was losing her mind. One of the elder kids explained it to her, but honestly if he hadn't that poor thing would still probably be a bit traumatized."

"What are they supposed to do, put cards on the carriages saying, 'these are not pulling themselves, you just can't see the things doing it'?" Sirius rolled his eyes at her. "That would make them all think it even weirder."

Lily huffed but still planned on trying to come up with some other way that wouldn't scare the piss out of anyone for this happening.

He was distracted from gazing at these new things by Ron appearing beside him asking for his owl. Harry explained Luna had taken him, and began to ask about Hagrid, but Ron said he had no more of a clue. Hermione interrupted by appearing already grumbling about Malfoy, and how he'd been using it to scare a bunch of first years so that he could have their carriage.

"Those who are surprised, please raise their hand," James snorted in disgust even as he didn't bother looking up.

Then she asked for Crookshanks, whom Ginny had taken, the red head appearing moments later with the squirming cat. Hermione thanked her and started to head off, Ron calling after he hadn't gotten his owl yet, but Hermione ignored him as she headed for an empty one.

James rolled his eyes and tsked in annoyance even as Lily pinched him to get him to stop, she was saving a spot for them, not going on without them.

While they waited for Luna to appear, Harry asked Ron about those odd horse things. Ron glanced to where Harry gestured and gave his friend a confused stare as he asked what he meant?

Harry thought Ron was playing a joke as he made him stare directly at one, but Ron still looked on in bemusement there was nothing there, just as Luna arrived and cut the two off.

Harry felt a nasty feeling crawling the back of his neck as he saw something Ron couldn't. It didn't matter he'd been given an explanation for it upfront now, he could already feel his mind laughing at him for seeing things that weren't really there...

As Ron took his owl Harry asked couldn't Ron see them?

All three boys were twitching with unease. Like Lily, they'd had a conversation similar to this at the beginning of their second year, and they'd had a good laugh that he was pulling something on them as a long running gag for ages before Remus had actually discovered what they were. They'd felt bad none of them had believed their friend for so long, now they were looking back on the instance and just wishing they'd called him crazy and abandoned him from their life while they had the chance.

Ron looked seriously alarmed now,

"Oh please don't tell me he's going to start worrying about me now," Sirius pouted, ducking on instinct as Remus made to hit him again for doing that joke for the third time in one chapter.

As he told Harry they were pulling themselves like always. Harry gave in as he began climbing inside after his friend, but was stopped by Luna saying he wasn't going mad, she could see them too.

"There's some relief," James muttered, bouncing in place in agitation as it felt nothing lately could keep something bad from cropping back up in his mind.

Harry turned desperately to see her watching a tail flicker just in front of them. She told him that she'd seen them since her first trip, they'd always been pulling the carriages, he was just as sane as her.

"For some reason, I don't find that all too comforting," Sirius made a stab at a joke which everyone ignored.

Smiling faintly, she climbed into the musty interior of the carriage after Ron. Not altogether reassured, Harry followed her.

"And Harry even agrees with me," Sirius said triumphantly while James smiled at him for his Padfoot still trying to make jokes when no one else wanted him to. There was some comfort his best friend wasn't changing in here any time soon.

HPHPHPHP

In regards to the Thesteral thing, I've answered in previous chapters why Harry couldn't see them before now regarding Quirrell, didn't even know he was dead until told, and while he 'technically' saw his mother die, he did not in fact recognize what was happening in his infant self therefore it doesn't count.

#Harry Potter #reading the books #fanfiction #Marauders #The Life that Never Lived #OotP #Jilly #James Potter #Remus Lupin #Sirius Black #Lily Potter

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myheartrevealedocs · 4 years

Text

Untouchable Ch 6- The Fisher King: Part 1 (S1E22)

Summary: A Spencer Reid x OC fanfic that retells select episodes, starting in season 1, from the point of view of Lydia Ambers, a forensic scientist.

Warnings: swearing, murder, threats

Ch 5 | Ch 7

~ ~ ~

“Have you read any of the Sherlock Holmes stories?” Reid inquired, as he walked past Lydia’s temporary desk.

They’d just gotten back from a case and Lydia was hard at work to finish up any reports she had to give that night. She had recently set herself to a standard that she wouldn’t bring any work things to her apartment so that she could focus on her studies there.

“When I was in middle school,” she answered, not looking up from her file. “Why do you ask?”

“Your job on our team is very Sherlock Holmes-esque.” He continued standing to the side of her desk, patiently hoping she’d engage more with him.

And she did after he said that. “Out of the two of us, you think I’m Sherlock Holmes?” she laughed.

“Well, I’m not exactly comparing us to Holmes and Watson, I just…” He paused as he reached into his book bag and Lydia swiveled her chair to face him directly. “I found this collection of some of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s stories in my apartment and I thought you might like them, if you hadn’t read them before.” He waved the brick-sized book up for her to see. “Do you want them?”

Lydia was surprised, to say the least. She stared at him for a moment, with widened eyes. “You saw a Sherlock Holmes collection and… you thought of- thought of me?” It felt so stupid, but she wasn’t sure what else there was to say. It felt like a joke, but Lydia could see no reason for Reid to be playing her.

“Of course,” he chuckled. “You’re brilliant. You’re younger than me and we’re on the same team. Doesn’t that mean something to you?”

She shook her head wildly, the ends of her hair smacking her across the face. “I’m some lowly intern, Spencer. You were a supervisory special agent at the age of 23.”

“You could be, too,” he suggested. “You’ve got two more years to accomplish that.”

She stopped herself from shaking her head again and smiled down at her lap. “I don’t think I’m cut out to be an agent. I’ll stick to blood splatters and fingerprints.”

When she looked back up at him, she realized that he was still holding the book.

“Oh! I’d love to read some stories though,” she informed him. “If you’re sure you want to part with the book for a few weeks.”

“It’s not a problem,” he responded cheekily, setting it down on her desk. “You’ll have to call me and tell me what you think of the ones you read.”

She agreed and was watching him wander away when something struck her. “Oh, Spencer!”

He flipped on his heel, looking at her curiously. “Yeah?”

“You’re headed back to Vegas over your break, yeah? So I won’t be able to meet up with you at the cafe that week?”

He nodded.

She couldn’t help but glance at the gift he’d just given her. To borrow, of course, but it made her heart swell. “I’ll miss you.”

“You’ll be fine. You barely ask me for help on your courses anymore anyway. I think you’ve got it all figured out.”

A panic hit her as he left. Did he think she didn’t need him anymore? Was he going to leave her to get her PhD by herself now?

It wasn’t his job, but she’d figured he would be there to help her for every step of the way, as he had the past six months. But he was a genius, so if he said she could do it, shouldn’t she trust him?

Ehh… he was intellectual, but college relied on emotional and mental factors, too. If something unexpected happened, she might need him again. Why did it feel relieving to know that something might cause her to be incapable of doing this alone??

Oh fuck.

Oh no.

It wasn’t about the PhD at all.

No, no, no.

She had feelings for Spencer Reid.

~ ~ ~

“I know, my dear Watson, that you share my love of all that is bizarre and outside the conventions and humdrum routine of everyday life.”

Lydia allowed herself a few extra minutes to scan the pages of “The Red-Headed League” that evening after dinner. In the past few days, she’d read a few of the shorter of Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes stories, but had yet to talk to Spencer about them. He’d left for Las Vegas the previous day and she’d gotten the feeling that going home to his family was stressful for him, so she decided to give him some time to settle before speaking with him again.

Or at least, she thought she would.

Before she could truly invest herself in the book’s pages, she heard a brief knock at her door.

This job had really made her paranoid. She went totally silent, listening closely, but didn’t hear any voices or shuffling outside. Which was better than someone screaming at her to open the door or else they’ll kill her, but didn’t assuage her fears. No one she knew was in town. They’d all gone elsewhere for their vacation time with the exception of Hotch. Nor did they know where she lived to her knowledge. And if someone had accidently tapped against her door on their way down the hall, she would have heard them walking away… right?

She creeped towards the door, trying not to make any noise. If there was someone creepy out there, hopefully she could convince them no one was home and they’d leave. But there was no one outside that she could see from the peephole.

She was still afraid that someone might be hiding outside of the door’s line of sight, so she waited for a minute longer, looking out occasionally for any movement and listening closely. It wasn’t until she heard one of her neighbors leaving, a girl around her age who lived with her boyfriend down the hall, that she thought it was safe to open her door. If there was someone creepy waiting outside her door, her neighbor wouldn’t have acted so normal on her way past.

So, Lydia cracked the door open and looked down the hallway for anything out of place and found a small square package on the floor. There was no return address on it. On the top, written in Sharpie, was her name, apartment building, and room number.

That didn’t look good. But at that point, her fear of getting murdered was overtaken by immense curiosity. This had to have been hand delivered, but by who? The only people who would consider sending her a package were all in California.

She grabbed a nearby pair of scissors and slit the tape on the box to open it. And the inside was far stranger than the outside.

Inside was a singular orange prescription bottle. The label was made out to a Lady Blanchefleur for bupropion. She had no clue what the name meant, but the drug? That was targeted.

She was infuriated just by the sight of it and was ready to throw it out, but she saw a small slip of paper inside. She flipped the cap off and unrolled the small sheet.

SAVE HER.

What the hell was going on? Was someone trying to torment her about her past?

But who knew?

As much as she wanted to forget about the whole thing, Lydia knew something was messed up about this whole picture. Clearly whoever had sent this knew a lot about her history. More than she thought a single person did know about her life. It was terrifying and sickening to think about.

Gideon told her not to call while he was on his vacation time. He needed the time away from anything work related and she could understand that. And she didn’t want to bother Hotch when he finally had family time. The only other person on the team who she trusted with this information was…

Spencer.

It was still mid-afternoon where he was, so she figured a call at this time would be reasonable. And even if he told her it was nothing, she could really use a voice she could trust right now.

It took him a few rings to pick up. “Hey, sorry. What’s up?”

“Hey, Spencer? I just got a really weird package delivered to my door. It doesn’t have a return address, just my name and apartment room. And inside-”

“Lydia, don’t open that,” he said, quickly, but she huffed.

“I already opened it. It’s just an orange pill bottle. But inside, there’s a note that says ‘save her’. And I have no clue why someone would send me something like this.”

She could feel his exasperation across the country. “Next time, don’t open weird packages, yeah? But I’m not sure why you’d get something like that. Garcia and JJ are at the office right now. You should call one of them and have the package processed. Let me know what you find, okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll text you. Sorry for bothering you.”

“You aren’t bothering me at all. I’m glad you called…” He cleared his throat, awkwardly. “Talk to you later, okay?”

“Talk to you later.”

~ ~ ~

“Lydia!” JJ cried upon seeing her enter the BAU the next day. “Thank god. Something really weird is going on.”

“Did they find anything on the package I got?” Lydia inquired and she was quick to shake her head.

“No. But Hotch had to go to Jamaica, because Elle was arrested for murder and Gideon got a package with a head inside it.”

“A head?!?” Oh god, she was lucky. “A human head?”

JJ nodded. “Hotch is clearing Elle’s name and then he’ll be back with her and Morgan. Oh, and don’t bug Garcia,” she warned. “Her computer system’s down. She thinks she got hacked. When I went in there she was freaking out.” Lydia opened her mouth to say more, but JJ was off again. “Gideon! I’ve been trying to call you.”

Lydia flipped around to see Gideon marching towards the two of them. “Why?”

“Someone sent you a head?” JJ demanded.

“From Jamaica.”

“Morgan and Elle are in Jamaica right now,” she explained. “There was a murder. The body was headless. Elle’s been arrested for it.”

“What?”

“Hotch headed down there last night with some bureau lawyers and a crime scene unit. He should be there by now.”

Gideon rubbed his forehead, looking beyond exhausted. Lydia wondered what he’d been doing when that head arrived at his cabin. He’d made it very clear to them his cabin was where he had time to himself and she felt so bad he’d been so grossly interrupted. “If you talk to him, have him call me right away.”

“Yes, sir,” JJ replied, and they both took off in different directions. Lydia considered sitting at her desk and finding a way to pass the time while this mess was figured out, but an agent stopped her and Gideon on their way into the bullpen.

“The baseball card, medication bottle, and notes from your packages,” the man said, handing her the evidence bags. “We processed them. There’s nothing. And we’re still working on identifying the head.”

“Try contacting the Montego Bay Police. Apparently they have a headless homicide victim.”

“Got it.” He took off and Gideon waved Lydia towards the round table room.

“Lydia, start setting up an evidence board. Whatever you’ve got.”

“Sure.”

She dashed away and began pinning the small items onto a corkboard. Gideon had received an envelope with the exact same ‘SAVE HER’ message on the outside and inside was a Nellie Fox baseball card. And her evidence bags included a small slip of paper and a medication bottle.

She hesitated putting the last item up. This bottle… it was personal to her. And as soon as it became evidence in a case, she’d have to come clean about its significance.

She huffed and stuck the pin in more forcefully than she meant to. It didn’t matter. She didn’t have any secrets. Whatever, right?

They didn’t have to know everything, did they? And maybe, this unsub just picked random information to put on the bottle. Completely coincidental.

Except JJ had said Garcia’s computer might have gotten hacked. Shit. The FBI’s databases probably had that information on file. As well as where she was currently living. So then, maybe the coincidence was actually the bottle? This person had no clue how she felt about those stupid, plastic cylinders. That made more sense logically.

In fact, the only thing that didn’t make any sense was the name. Lady Blanchefleur. White flower.

Lydia jumped out of the room and towards her desk, typing the name into a search engine.

Blanchefleur was a common French name in the Middle Ages. She was the heroine in a famous story titled “Floris and Blancheflour” although the spelling of the name and details of the story changed depending on when and where it was transcribed. The name was also given to two separate characters in tales of the Knights of the Round Table: the first being the mother of Sir Tristan and the second, the love of Sir Percival.

She scanned page after page for anything that might indicate why the unsub had chosen that name, but there was very little on the name in fiction or history. The tale of Floris and Blancheflour was a short and sweet romance, but she could find no connections to herself or the case in it. And in the case of the round table knights, the name had been mentioned, but the characters never appeared in the stories, so she didn’t have any leads on that detail.

She glanced up just in time to watch JJ rush from her office to Gideon’s, a wooden picture frame in her hand.

She growled and shut down her computer, knowing full well that she was about to get more evidence for the board. But so far, other than a body in Jamaica and a head in a box, none of these pieces fit together.

~ ~ ~

“Come on,” JJ told Lydia, making her way out of the round table room. “Hotch, Elle, and Morgan should be coming up now.”

Now, to add to their collection, they had a butterfly in a frame with the message ‘SHE HAS BEEN SEARCHED FOR BUT NEVER FOUND’ and the name of a man who’d disappeared from Jamaica following the mysterious murder, Frank Giles. Lydia had been staring at the board for an hour at least, completely zoned out, but she listened to JJ and followed her through the bullpen.

Their timing was perfect, finding the three colleagues in a circle just outside the BAU office.

“Hotch, I spent half the night in an interrogation room,” Elle was berating him. “I am not sleeping until I find this Frank Giles.”

“Frank Giles left Jamaica last night on the Red Eye,” JJ informed the group as she and Lydia joined the circle. “He flew to Florida and then got onto another flight to Virginia.”

“Virginia?” Elle snarled. “You mean that son of a bitch is from here?”

“I don’t know if he’s from here, but this is where he flew to. Arlington.” She looked over the page a different tech analyst had given her. “He’s got a long criminal record. Manslaughter, robbery, rape.”

“What about the victim?” Morgan asked. “Marty Harris.”

“Uh, he’s a two-time convicted fetish burglar, registered child sex offender-”

“And we have his head,” Gideon interrupted, joining them. “CSU just positively identified the one delivered to my cabin.”

“‘Don’t waste time on the first victims. They were unrepentant bad men. They only got what they deserved,’” Hotch recited from a notepad in his hand.

“What is that?” Morgan asked.

“I got a phone call last night before you called from Jamaica,” he informed the group, waving the notepad with the conversation he’d written on it.

“Any mention of a ‘her’?” Elle questioned.

“‘You must help him save her,’” he responded.

“Now there’s a ‘him’, too?” Lydia rubbed her forehead as if it would clear her mind from this nauseating puzzle in front of her.

“I think he means Reid,” Gideon explained.

“Reid?” JJ asked.

“We need to regroup,” Hotch determined and the entire group turned and entered the bullpen.

~ ~ ~

Lydia lay dramatically with her head over the back of the chair she was seated in. They’d all migrated back to the conference room and she hated the idea of going back to staring blankly at the evidence boards. So her eyes traced the tiles of the ceiling as she listened to the rest of the group speak.

“So, clearly we have a psychopath who’s intent on drawing us into his game,” Hotch was saying.

“Playing with us,” Gideon added.

“Then let's return the favor,” Elle fired.

“He kept telling us repeatedly to save ‘her’. What ‘her’?” Morgan asked.

“The items he sent must be some kind of clues.”

Hotch agreed with Gideon and told JJ to start listing them off on the whiteboard.

“I got a Nellie Fox baseball card from 1963,” Gideon began, “and I got a head in a box.”

“I got a rare butterfly in a shadow box,” JJ added, before beginning the list.

“And repeated messages to save ‘her’,” Hotch offered.

Elle was pacing, obviously furious. “I got the decapitated body and a nice visit to the Jamaican police headquarters.”

“Reid called from Nevada,” Gideon explained for him. “He’s on his way back here with a skeleton key and a note he got, too… Lydia?”

She jumped up in her seat suddenly. “Sorry. I got a medication bottle with the name Lady Blanchefleur on it.”

“Lady Blanchefleur?” Elle asked.

She shrugged. “It’s French. It means ‘white flower’. I looked it up and there are a few notable uses of it throughout history, but nothing stood out to me.”

“Wait,” Hotch mumbled. He began flipping rapidly through his notepad again to find his scribbles. “You said Reid got a key?”

Gideon nodded.

“The guy who called me said something along the lines of…” he scanned the page he was on. “‘Sir Percival holds the key’.”

“Percival!” Lydia cried. “Yes! That was one of the… the Knights! At the Round Table!”

She grabbed Hotch’s notes before he could protest and looked over the line again.

“Sir Percival was known as Arthur’s most innocent and loyal knights. He went on the quest for the Grail and he was in love with… Lady Blanchefleur.”

She froze up at the implications of that. Did the unsub know that she was crushing on the doctor? But how? That was on no file and she definitely hadn’t told anyone.

“Ok, but wait a minute,” Morgan continued, no one seeming to notice her embarrassment. “They don’t contact us this way. I mean, they might taunt us, dare us to catch ‘em. But they don’t drag us into their fantasies.”

“Why not?” JJ asked, turning away from the board she was writing on.

“Because they’re sexual fantasies,” he argued. “I mean, taunting us is a show of power, but making us the object is… I don’t know what the hell that is.”

“Something else about the baseball card,” Gideon murmured. “Nellie Fox was one of the stars of the 1959 White Sox. I went to almost every game with my father that year. Fox was my hero. So, is it a coincidence that he sends this to me? Or does he know how I feel about him?”

JJ’s eyes went wide. “I collected butterflies when I was a little girl. That’s how I knew what butterfly was in the box.”

“So then he knows us,” Morgan determined.

“I got an anonymous message,” Hotch argued.

“I got a police raid,” Elle continued.

“But he knew exactly where we were,” Morgan shot back. “Hotel in Jamaica. Gideon at the cabin. Reid in Vegas. You and Lydia at your homes.”

“He got that from the Bureau computers.” Garcia appeared in the doorway, a manilla folder in hand. “Your locations are always in there so they can find you if they need you. I checked the log. The hacker was definitely in the personal folders. There were room numbers to the hotels in Jamaica, the address of Gideon’s cabin… There’s a lot of information in those databases,” she admitted.

“Have you figured out how he was able to get into the Bureau’s computers?” Hotch asked and she swallowed, harshly.

“I’m- I’m still working on that,” she said, but she looked like she was nodding.

“Garcia, if you know something-”

“No, it- um…” Lydia felt so bad for her. She looked terrified. “It’s just- I… I was playing a game yesterday. An online game.”

Gideon blinked. “A game?”

“Not on the Bureau computer, sir,” she defended, quickly. “On my own personal laptop.”

“Garcia, no, no, no, no.” Morgan put his head into his hands and Garcia’s eyes filled with tears.

“I don’t understand,” Hotch said, softly, seeing how fragile the tech genius was.

“Wireless internet,” was all Morgan said.

“By wirelessly hooking into the net here to get online, the hacker could have gotten into my computer first, and I have far less protection on my own laptop.”

Hotch crossed his arms. “And he could have gotten into the entire Bureau computer system this way?”

She nodded, her voice barely a whisper at this point. “Yeah, it’s possible.”

Gideon got up slowly, turning away from the group. “Playing a game?” he asked. “How could you be that stupid?”

“Gideon!” Lydia shouted.

“Information, files,” he continued, ignoring her. “You have a responsibility.”

“I know, sir,” Garcia apologized, the tears streaming down her face. “I’m so sorry.”

Everyone stayed silent at the spectacle, wondering who would speak first. Lydia watched everyone’s eyes drop to the floor as Penelope looked for some support and it infuriated her. She threw down Hotch’s notepad and walked over to comfort the girl, but she pushed her away.

“But I found him,” she told them through her tears.

“You what?” Elle started to move towards her.

“I know who he is,” she said. “The hacker. His name is Giles. Frank Giles. He lives in Arlington, Virginia, four miles from here. I have his address.”

She handed the folder to Hotch before swiftly leaving the room.

“Did she say Giles?” Morgan repeated.

~ ~ ~

Hotch: Rm 1210. Now.

Lydia hadn’t even read the text before she was throwing on her vest and leaving the SUV. Hotch had required her to start wearing the bulletproof attire after the fiasco in McAllister when Cory Bridges had a gun on her. It didn’t exactly make her feel safer, knowing that the vest wouldn’t have stopped a bullet to the face, but getting shot on the job didn’t help him or Gideon prove she was an asset to Strauss, so she agreed to it.

She silently passed all the exiting SWAT guys as she made her way upstairs and to Frank Giles’s apartment. She thought for sure that she’d watch them walk him away in handcuffs, but by the time she got to the room, she hadn’t seen him. Maybe he wasn’t home?

Oh, how wrong she was. She stepped into the apartment building and found the team standing around his body. He lay on a bare bed, a long sword straight through his chest. And, of course, in blood behind him:

HERE THY QUEST DOTH TRULY BEGIN

“God damnit,” she grumbled, already pulling her gloves out of her pocket.

“He’s definitely playing with us,” Hotch said.

“His identification checks out,” Elle admitted, handing Hotch the ID she’d found by the body. “That’s Frank Giles.”

“There’s a big old bag of money sitting right here on the dresser,” Morgan continued.

“Oh boy,” Lydia joked. “Where to start?”

“So, Giles took Harris to Jamaica to kill him and the unsub killed Giles,” Hotch figured.

Morgan was already pulling stacks of cash out of the bag. “Yeah, but he paid him first.”

“Left the cash?” Elle inquired.

He shrugged. “He’s apparently well-funded.”

Lydia knelt down next to the body to look at the blade in his chest.

“He said these were ‘unrepentant bad men’,” Hotch reminded them. “Are we looking for some kind of vigilante?”

“No,” Gideon murmured. “The bodies are nothing but a way to get us interested. They’re game pieces. The killings are secondary.”

“Well, this guy likes to write things in blood on walls,” Elle stated and Morgan nodded.

“All kinds of cult and demonic significance to that.”

“Thy? Doth? Quest?” She threw the words around before reading it in its entirety. “‘Thy quest doth truly begin’ Why start phrasing things like this now?”

“All the other messages were in modern English,” Hotch agreed.

“Maybe this is the first one the unsub actually wrote,” Morgan suggested.

Elle scoffed. “So we’re looking for Shakespeare?”

“Hey, guys?” Lydia interrupted. “There’s something etched on the blade.” She leaned in close, trying to read the scratches over the already intricate designs on the sword. “‘To learn of what should next be done, leave the blade til the hour be none’.”

“Hour be none?” Morgan asked and Hotch leaned down to see for himself.

“Leave the blade,” he mumbled. “Elle, move for a second.” She stepped away from the group, backing up towards the bloody wall. “Move to your left… The bed’s in the middle of the room.”

“Which isn’t by chance,” Morgan agreed.

“And maybe the light from here-” He pointed to a window behind him, where Elle formerly was. “-casts a shadow and points to something.”

“Come on,” Elle protested. “Are we in the middle of an Indiana Jones movie?”

“The hour be none?” Hotch repeated, ignoring her comment.

“Midnight is 00:00 hours in 24-hour time. Would that be none?” Morgan asked.

“Midnight wouldn’t cast a shadow,” the older man argued.

“Hour be none…” Morgan sounded it out like it might suddenly come to him.

“3 PM.”

Spencer had slid into the room, his book bag still around his shoulder. He looked a little tired, but Lydia attributed it to jet lag and possible stress over the new case.

“Hey, guys. Garcia told me where to find you.”

“3 PM?” Gideon asked.

“It’s medieval,” Spencer explained. “The days used to be broken into hourly intervals. The canonical intervals of the breviary. Prime: 6 AM. Terce: 9 AM. Sext: 12 noon. None: 3 PM. And vespers: 6 PM.”

“Reid, do not ever go away again,” Elle insisted.

He smiled, but Gideon refused to let them fall off track. “Medieval. That’s why the language changed.”

“Everything this guy does is a clue,” Hotch agreed.

“We can narrow it down some more,” Lydia offered. “He was talking about King Arthur’s Round Table earlier.”

“The Round Table?” Reid inquired.

“Okay, but guys, it’s 4:35,” Morgan interrupted. “What do we do? Leave the blade in until 3 PM tomorrow?”

It took Reid a minute to realize we’d switched topics. “Oh, not if we can block that window out.” He turned to one of the crime scene investigators in the seperate room. “Do you have any spotlights in your car?”

“Sure,” she replied and the team got to work on covering the window.

~ ~ ~

Lydia sat down in a corner of the room, watching as everyone set up for their experiment. Spencer knelt in front of the now dark window and rest stood off to the sides so they could see the uninterrupted shadow on the wall.

“So, the sun is right here at 5 PM,” he started, turning on the flashlight to face the sword. “Morgan, follow the shadow as I move the light higher.”

He was quick to oblige, moving a lamp and the table on which it sat out of the way as the shadow flattened out. “Okay. And do what?”

Hotch leaned forward. “Tap,” he instructed.

Morgan used the pads of his fingers to prod at the wall as the shadow moved under Spencer’s direction. After a moment, the hilt of the sword lined up with a hollow spot in the wall.

“Definitely an Indiana Jones movie,” Elle repeated her reference from earlier.

“Feels like the wallpaper’s been replaced.”

“Tear it open,” Hotch told him.

Morgan pulled out a pocket knife, which slid easily into the thin plaster and allowed him to pull a large section of the wall out.

“It’s a box.”

“Take it out.”

“Wait, are we sure it’s safe?” Reid interrupted.

“What, you think it’s a bomb?” Hotch fired back. “You think he’d be playing this game just to blow us up?”

“He’d have already done that as long as we’ve been standing here,” Morgan agreed and reached into the hole.

It was a strange, dark box, with a gold lock encrusting the front. Morgan tried for a second, but it wasn’t opening.

“It’s locked. You want me to break it?”

“No,” Hotch sighed. “We should process it first.”

Everyone was startled when Gideon finally spoke up. “‘Sir Percival holds the key’,” he muttered.

The entire group turned their heads to Reid. “Sir Percival?” he asked, bewildered.

“I’ll explain later,” Lydia told him and approached. “Do you have the key?”

He fumbled around his pants and shirt pocket until he found the skeleton key and handed it to her. Lydia joined the group around the box and opened it up carefully. The second the top cracked open, a slow, sweet tune filled the room.

Music box.

A thin lined piece of paper sat on the bottom of the box, which Reid took from her hand and read aloud. “‘Never would it be night, but always clear day to any man’s sight.’”

“Well, that was worth it,” Elle replied, sarcastically.

“The lid,” Gideon said from behind her. “Little tab right under the lock.”

Morgan saw what he was talking about and pulled the top down to reveal another compartment in the top of the box. And inside that was a lock of blonde hair, tied together with a pink ribbon, and a DVD that read: THY QUEST.

Elle took the hair to a crime scene investigator to put in an evidence bag and Morgan looked over the DVD.

Lydia stood up fully and started to leave, ripping her gloves off as she went. “Let’s go see what this stupid quest is about.”

~ ~ ~

“Sir Percival?” Spencer repeated as the two sat next to each other in the conference room.

“Right.” She rubbed her palm over her forehead. “Hotch got a call. The speaker said, ‘Sir Percival holds the key’. Then we found out you had received a skeleton key. And the medicine bottle I got? It’s prescribed to a ‘Lady Blanchefleur’. She’s the love of Sir Percival in some of the stories of the Round Table.”

His eyes widened. “So, we’re…”

“This unsub thinks we are,” Lydia replied quickly. She was too exhausted to have this awkward conversation right now. “He’s definitely got a medieval fantasy to play out.”

They put the DVD in and a video popped up. The setting was dark, with a large shadow cast over the top half of the room. There was a fireplace against the back wall, but no fire. The camera was set up on a desk, with many strange objects littered around, all gold in color. And finally, a grand leather chair faced the camera.

It took a moment for the man to walk in, most likely their unsub. He wore all black and hobbled onto screen slowly, taking a painful moment to sit in the chair. With the terrible lighting in the room, his face was obscured from their view.

“He moves funny,” Hotch noted.

“Looks like he’s injured or something,” Morgan agreed.

When he finally spoke, his voice was hoarse and raspy. Lydia wondered if he was a smoker or had lost it somehow, but if the latter were the case, it would have been accompanied by coughs or moments where the sound disappeared completely. He didn’t have that, which would suggest he’d been living like that a long time.

“I assure you… you’ll all understand in the end why it must be this way. You might even thank me.”

“Don’t hold your breath, scumbag,” Elle snapped.

“You know now you’re on a quest. A young girl’s life depends on the successful completion of it.” The video cut to one of a blonde girl in all white, sitting on a bed. When she noticed the camera, she started throwing objects across the room at the person filming. “As you can see, she’s quite beautiful… and in distress.” There was another shot of her at the door of the room, There was a barred window in the door, which she pulled at and threw herself against.

Then, it cut back to their unsub. “Now, please listen closely for there is one rule. And this rule must be followed. The one rule is… only the members of your team may participate in the quest.” As he listed off each team member, pictures of them on the job appeared. “Jason Gideon, Aaron Hotchner, Derek Morgan, Elle Greenaway, Spencer Reid, Jennifer Jareau, Penelope Garcia, and Lydia Ambers.” Lydia was terrified to see her face appear with the others. She could see someone easily getting these pictures from newspapers and press conferences. Some of them were perhaps more candid, but even so, the BAU was constantly working popular cases and people could easily join a crowd and catch pictures of them.

But Lydia? She recognized where she was standing. It was outside the hospital of the poisoning case she worked a few months back. No one was there. It was a hospital parking lot, the only way she could have missed someone taking photos of her was if they were sitting in their car waiting for her to come out.

God, that’s horrifying.

“A quest must be completed in the proper way or it isn’t a quest, is it? That’s it. One rule. Simple. Now, you will be receiving an item soon that will hold the final clue you’ll need to finish the quest. You will find you’ll also need a book which has inspired many an adventure like mine. Believe me when I tell you, I truly hope to see you all soon. It will mean a successful end to this adventure… for all of us.”

The screen went black.

“This guy’s got pictures of us?” Elle demanded, suddenly.

“What do we do now?” Spencer asked.

“Well, the lock of hair’s being analyzed for DNA. There might be something on file,” Hotch explained, avoiding the uncomfortable topic of the video they’d just watched.

“I’ll get the video team to enhance the shots of the girl,” JJ offered, grabbing the DVD from the player.

“Let’s get the clues up on the board,” Hotch ordered. “Maybe we can make some sense of something.”

“Wait. We’re going to play this guy's game?” Elle cried.

“Do we have a choice?” Spencer shot back.

The sound of the door opening caught everyone’s attention and Lydia turned around in time to watch Gideon storm out. She wasn’t sure what was up with him, but at the moment, she just couldn’t deal with it. Lucky for her, Hotch volunteered, standing up to leave.

“Be right back. You guys keep working.”

As soon as both her superiors were gone, Lydia lay her head down on the table and listened distantly to what the others had to say.

She really wasn’t in the mood for this puzzle solving today.

~ ~ ~

Not ten minutes later, Hotch was back… with his wife, son, and a piece of poster paper with a bunch of random numbers on it. Supposedly someone had appeared at their door and told Haley to give the paper to Hotch immediately.

“Dear lord, I’m going to throw myself out of a window,” Lydia grumbled, watching Spencer put the new delivery onto a corkboard.

“Ambers,” Hotch warned, before leaving with his wife.

“Sorry, I’m going to let someone push me out of a window,” she joked once they were out of earshot. “What are we looking at?”

“My eyes are so heavy I can barely see it,” Elle replied.

“I think it’s a coded message of some sort.” Reid rubbed his chin, contemplating.

“The unsub said we’d need a book, didn’t he?” Lydia asked. “It could be book code.”

He nodded excitedly. “Each one of these sets of numbers represents a particular word. For instance, page 118, line 30, word 3. We need to figure out what the words are and fill in the blanks.”

Morgan somehow looked even more fed up than Lydia felt. He ran his hands over his head and interlocked the fingers at the back of the neck, pulling on it like he planned to tear his own head off.

“Yeah, but from what book?” Elle asked Spencer and he shrugged.

“I don’t know. The trouble is it has to be the exact same edition of the exact same book that he used.”

JJ walked in, a folder in her hands. “Just got a DNA hit on the lock of hair. Rebecca Bryant. She’s been missing out of Boston for two years.” As she explained, they passed around the photo they had of her on file.

Lydia’s heart had skipped a beat when JJ said Rebecca, panicking for a moment about the safety of her own sister. Could the unsub possibly know where her sister and Sonia lived?

“Two years?” Elle was appalled.

“Guys, how are we supposed to figure out which book this code was copied out of?” Morgan demanded.

“I have no idea,” Reid admitted for the second time.

JJ took back the picture to stick to the whiteboard and started to write around it.

“He said we have everything needed to complete the quest,” Reid murmured and the whole team stared at the boards, looking for any clues, indications, hints… anything that stood out really.

“The answer’s gotta be up there somewhere,” Elle reasoned.

“JJ,” Gideon waltzed in out of nowhere, “get some reporters here as soon as possible.”

“For what?”

“Just say we need help on a new case.”

They all looked around blankly after he left.

“Press conference?” Morgan asked.

JJ shrugged before following suit and leaving them to stare at the boards for any bright ideas.

~ ~ ~

Over the next hour, they pulled down all of the evidence bags and Lydia began to do as much research on anything out of place that she could.

Elle had fallen asleep on one of the couches and they all opted to leave her there unless they came up with something.

Reid lifted up a nearby bag. “A pale clouded yellow butterfly indigenous to Great Britain?” he asked.

Lydia was already typing away at her laptop for any significance to that.

“How’s it going?” Hotch had finally returned from the press conference and Lydia felt bad for being so negative to him earlier. The obvious stress that came upon him when his wife and kid were involved was completely reasonable and she was glad he was able to get them into a hotel. She could only imagine the panic she’d be feeling if her sister lived with her. She wouldn’t let the girl leave her sight after getting that package.

“The answer to what book we need has to be in here,” Spencer pondered.

Morgan dropped whatever he’d been toying with at the time. “Yeah, but we sure as hell can’t see it.”

“Yet,” Spencer specified.

Hotch stepped away from them to shake Elle awake.

“I’m sending you home,” he insisted, denying her protests.

“Elle, seriously, we’re not any closer than we were,” Morgan told her. “Get out of here. Go home.”

“But-”

“That’s an order,” Hotch interrupted. “Let’s go.”

Lydia watched silently as Hotch escorted her out, then read off what she’d learned about the butterfly to the two guys left. “Its binomial name is the colias hyale. If I had to guess, this one is a female. It’s a large species of butterfly and lives in flowery places.”

“It’s a butterfly, Lydia,” Morgan said impatiently. “No shit.”

“Well, it’s not like there’s very much to learn about butterflies,” she shot back. “They’re pretty insects and that’s all. What do you want from me?” She huffed and scrolled some more. “Okay… this says that yellow butterflies represent new life and if you cross paths with one, it supposedly gives you happiness?” She searched some more, clicking on various links and scanning the pages. “Oh shit, nevermind. There’s a whole lot of symbolism of butterflies spiritually. They represent angels and rebirth and stuff. Hold on.”

She’d fallen into a rabbit hole of sorts. The religious relation to the butterfly was more popular than she thought, but there wasn’t much credibility to her sources. She tried to find references to this specific butterfly in books or other forms of media but came up empty.

“I can’t find any significance to it in a book. Should we try something else?”

“Ambers.” Hotch called her over from the door he’d just taken Elle out of. “I need a word.”

She set the computer back down and followed him out curiously. “What’s up, Hotch?”

“I want to respect your past and privacy, so I haven’t brought the pill bottle up yet, but if it has any significance to the case, I need you to tell me now.”

She shrugged. “I honestly don’t know. The fact that it’s for bupropion is personal. I know that. But the rest seems like random information.”

“Nothing is random for this unsub,” he argued and walked into the conference room. “Reid, hand me the prescription bottle.”

The boy’s head shot up, but he wasn’t looking at his boss. His eyes were glued to Lydia. “Oh… um…” He dropped his gaze awkwardly and reached for the bag in front of him. “Here you are.”

“Okay. Lady Blanchefleur. Bupropion. RX: 315121253201518. Doctor Sir Kneighf,” he recited. “What does that mean?”

“Well, Lady Blanchefleur we’re assuming is in relation to the medieval character,” she reasoned. “Let’s see about Sir Kneighf.” She put it into a google search but came up empty. “Hm… no.”

“Bupropion is an antidepressant, isn’t it?” Spencer offered.

Hotch stepped in quickly. “We don’t believe that bit is relevant.”

“Why not?” Morgan asked.

Hotch gave her a look that said, this is on you now.

“Gideon gets a baseball card of his baseball hero,” Lydia began. “JJ gets a butterfly that she was interested in when she was younger. I get the antidepressant my mom was taking when I was a kid.”

She tried not to speak sharply, but there was still a clear edge in her voice. She was frustrated that Hotch had read the medication out loud after she’d just told him that was the only personal part. But, he had to cover all his bases. This was important, she reminded herself. A girl’s life was at stake.

“Maybe it does have significance to the case,” she defended. “But so far, Nellie Fox and the butterfly were just ways to get the recipient interested. And this guy must know me well, because bupropion? Let’s just say, it caught my eye.”

Reid’s eyes were trained on the desk. He didn’t want to look up at her. He was beginning to feel guilty about his desire to learn about her past, seeing how closed off she became when forced to talk about it. It was clearly not full of a lot of happy memories for her.

Morgan next to him was simply confused. He knew not to push her, but he couldn’t quite piece together why anyone would care about their mother’s old medicine.

And Hotch was still focused on the label in front of him.

“I can’t keep staring at these,” she stressed to the group. “I’m gonna go for a walk.”

“Lydia-” Hotch started as she stood up and grabbed her jacket.

“I’m fine, Hotch,” she insisted. “I just… my brain is fried. I’m gonna take a minute and be back with fresh eyes.”

The rest of the room settled in guilt, despite the fact that, in the end, they would’ve had to talk about the prescription bottle with her. They needed to know, even if she hated it. Morgan had no idea it was a sore subject, Spencer, only an inkling, and Hotch was fully aware of what it represented in her mind.

But not a one of them could protect her from her past. And once Lydia had released some of her anger, she’d come to realize that, too.

36 notes · View notes

duhliriouss · 4 years

Text

Joker One Shot:

Don’t Follow Me

Request: Anon request. Thank you for your patience! I’m a little nervous about this one. Some parts felt smashed together to me and I tried to smooth them out. This also hit home and gave me a lot of writers block too because there was a time in my life where I stopped taking my own medications. I tried to mimick the affects that I experienced into this 🖤(minus the psychotic part lol)

Summary: Tired of trying to be functional and happy all the time, Y/N decides to go off her meds, believing it doesn’t matter anyway. Joker is angry with her choices and behaviors, causing him to lash out for her own health.

A/N: This contains a lot of angst and is pretty dark but do not worry it has a fluffy ending ❣️

Beta Reader: @pcrushinnerd Thank you 🖤

Word Count: 2,216

Warnings: Angst, Mental Health, Swearing, Violence and Blood, Sexual Flirting, Dominance

“Why do I attract such crazy men?”

“Why do you ask such crazy things?”

You finally looked up from the gash below Joker’s collarbone to his eyes, bringing your hand to a halt that had just previously been dabbing the wound with a wet rag. You both mirrored each other with a slight smirk before bringing your attention back to cleaning off the blood that had spread across his chest.

“They’re going to find you, you know. We probably shouldn’t stay here.”

“They won’t. You saw for yourself... the car accident I was in. They won’t even be able to make it down the street from the station.”

You didn’t have to look up again to feel that sinister smile he had that bore into you, along with his low chuckles that you felt vibrate from his chest into your hand. Joker sat lazily in the wooden dining chair that was moved to the center of his living room. You sat on his right thigh with your legs draped between his as you cleaned his wound. You dipped down to clean and wet the rag again in the bucket that laid on the floor by his feet. The apartment possessed a comforting silence other than the water that dripped back into the bucket as you rang out the rag. And not to mention the riots that raged on not far down the street.

The full moon glinted through the window, managing to pass through the smoke that floated up through the sky - It was still the same night that Joker had killed Murray Franklin. Only a few hours had passed since the performance he gave to his new grown followers after the car accident.

It also had only been four days since Arthur had killed his mother, and the same day you had stopped taking your medications. It was a coincidence that it had been on the same day. It wasn’t the cause for your actions. Instead it was a bad day for you for its own reasons.

It was the day you realized none of it truly mattered anymore. They never did anything for you. Almost every visit you had you would always ask for your psychiatrist to increase your medication, which she carried out for you time after time until that day, she finally said it was more than enough.

It was anything but enough.

You had stormed home that night, skipping the pharmacy deliberately. You haven’t taken a single pill since.

You felt okay the first two days however. Only feeling slight headaches and drowsiness. You haven’t had the time to tell Arthur; he had changed since the murder of his mother. The past few days had happened so fast, though you have been with him every step of the way. Taking his side and even helping him remove Randall’s body. You were there as he told Randall and Gary how he felt better after stopping his own medications.

You had silently agreed.

You have been oh so relentless since then. Joker had figured it was the high of everything that’s been happening that made you act out this way. Little did he know you were just following in his own footsteps.

You loved it. You loved every second that these passed few days have given you. Joker and your’s relationship was never better. It was tense and thrilling and completely unpredictable. You fed off each others’ behavior and even played menacing head games to see how far each of you could go. Joker would always win. As fun as it all was, it wasn’t all just perks. You’ve been having nightmares that had caused you to wake up in a sweat. Today you have felt angry, tired, sick to your stomach.

You even had a couple psychotic outbursts. One consisting of you biting into the flesh of Joker’s collarbone for the whole city to see. You couldn’t help it. Joker had brought you up on the police car as everyone started to chant to the both of you being the King and Queen of crime. You got lost in the attention. And so had Joker. He showed you off by leading you in a ominous dance before bringing you to a halt, sucking and kissing your mouth before biting down hard on your lower lip. Your own blood had flowed down your chin. You saw the admiring twinkle return to his eyes for just a moment before he took his two thumbs and displayed your own bloody smile that almost reached ear to ear. You looked into his now dilated pupils and knew Arthur was gone. And so were you now. So without any thought you had sucked down his neck, down to his collarbone and biting down, hard. The shouting of the crowd intensified, booming in your head as you smirked against his chest that poked out of his green shirt collar.

Joker hissed as you placed the rag on his chin, cleaning the other cuts and dried blood that had dripped from his mouth.

“Sorry, I’m almost done.”

He reached around and cradled your hips in place, using his thumbs to draw circles on your hipbones. You shuttered as he did so before suddenly dropping the rag and bringing your hands to your forehead. You were having another random, splitting headache. The sound of the rag splattering onto the floor reached your ears with a throbbing jolt. You closed your eyes tight, pushing down on the starting point of your eyebrow to try and relieve the pain that came without warning.

One of Joker’s hands left your hip to push your (y/h/c) strands of hair behind your ear. His eyebrows furrowed together disquietly.

“Sweetheart, what’s going on with you?”

“I’m fine!” you snapped defensively, standing up fully, facing Joker with your hands still on your head. He stayed seated as his hand left your hip while you stood, his palm opened up and forwards in a silent plead for you to sit back down.

You weren’t usually like this and Joker knew it. He looked up at you as he mulled over how it couldn’t all just be the stimulation you have gone through over the past few days. There was no reason for you to be this angry right now. Your headaches were too frequent.

“No, you’re not, look at you,” his voice was flat and as stern as his painted features. He stood up and in just a few strides was mere inches from you. You kept your head down and peaked through your parted fingers to see how close he was. You could feel the tension in the air as he slowly moved your hands away from your head, replacing them with his own.

“You’re burning hot.”

“Yeah…?”

Your capricious behavior was officially taking over. You ignored the agonizing pain that resided in your head as you grabbed Joker’s hand, slowly bringing it down until it ghosted over your parted lips. You took just his thumb, poking your tongue out to lick up the shaft of it before gently placing it between your teeth. Your eyes stayed locked with his as you continued to lick guiltlessly. It was still silent in the room. The only noise breaking it being the clock ticking on the wall and Joker’s breath hitching under your actions.

“Stop.… You’re hiding something from me, aren’t you kitten?” His mouth stayed slightly open as his eyes flickered from your mouth to your (y/e/c) eyes.

“What? Am I not allowed to do this?”

You brought his thumb deeper in your mouth, swirling your tongue expertly. You could still taste your own blood from when he smeared your own very clownish smile. You watched as his eyes darkened mischievously.

Before you could even think to object, Joker took his thumb out of your mouth with a pop and replaced it with his own mouth. He hungrily smashed his lips against yours, it was enough to send your steps backwards until your back hit the wall. He separated your lips with his tongue demandingly, trying desperately to taste you. You willingly accepted his silent command up until an unexpected, ghastly sensation rose up your body to the top of your head. You shuttered and pushed him away from you.

Joker watched you in disbelief of your sudden actions as you turned away from him, holding your mouth with a shaky hand. You felt even more nauseated now from the movement it took to hide your face. Joker caught on quickly, hastily making his way over to lift and hold your hair behind your head. His left hand leveraged your left arm for you to lean over and throw up.

And oh did you throw up viciously. You stayed leaning over and held by him until you were confident it was all out. You would usually be extremely humiliated by such an incident, especially since things were just starting to heat up...but you had instead pulled yourself back up, turned to Joker with a wide, chilling smile, wiping your face with the back of your sleeve, then smiled even wider.

“I feel so much better now!”

Joker had let go of you now. His eyes flickered from the bile on the floor to your misbehaved, spacious smile. His eyes bore into you now with a serious glint. All desire in his eyes vanished, replaced with the annoyance of knowing there was something you weren’t telling him. You watched as his jaw clenched while he licked the bottom of his red stained lip, clearly trying to find the words to question why you were acting this way.

“I’d say you’ve learned well from me in this short amount of time darling...but we both know it’s not the cause for this.…”

“Oh, but it is,” you smirked, taking a single step towards him. “I’ve only followed in your footsteps, Mr. Fleck.” You took a second step.

“What’s that even mean?! And don’t. Call me. That.” he breathed in a threatening tone. Your body fluttered to this new tension you were creating.

“I stopped taking my medications on the day your mother croaked. I’ve felt so much better Joker! Just like you said before you killed Randall. Isn’t that great?” Your voice turned more giddy.

You expected Joker to lower his guard and match your deranged smile. But instead you watched as his hands clenched, shaking just enough to reach his clenched jaw. He huffed out a single laugh, staring off to the ceiling above you. Your smile lowered at the realization that he was still angry. He laughed again, shaking his head as he turned on his heels, making his way over to the bathroom. He threw the medicine cabinet open, fumbling aggressively with pill bottles, looking for the ones that had your name printed on them. He gathered them all in his hands, wiping the sweat off his forehead as he made his way back over to you. He walked fast, wasting no time to teach you a lesson.

He stopped until he was less than a inch away from you. You peeked up timidly as he grabbed your jaw, forcing your head to look up at him, making you flinch.

“Open.”

“But I don’t want to! Why can’t I be like y—“

“I said open!” His voice raised into a deep yell.

You complied and opened your mouth, and he took his other hand that contained the pills and sprinkled them one by one on your tongue. You closed your mouth and swallowed. It was silent for just a moment until Joker sighed, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand again before digging in his red pockets for a cigarette. You stayed still as you watched him walk over and fall onto the couch lazily, crossing his legs, with his arm that held the cigarette draped over the back of the couch. He looked deep into thought. He didn’t look at you as he spoke:

“I never asked you to be like me. I don’t want you to follow in my footsteps. I’m too dangerous for you. I’m sorry if you felt like you needed to.”

“I’m sorry...” you said, feeling ashamed as tears filled your eyes.

“Don’t be. It’s my own fault. I should have kept better watch on you.” He finally looked up at you. His heart clenched as he watched the tears threaten to fall down your flushed cheeks. “Come here baby girl.”

You walked over hesitantly, keeping your head down and your arms by your sides. As you got closer, he uncrossed his legs to give you better access to fall into his embrace. And you did. You adjusted yourself in his lap and tucked your head into the crook of his neck, letting the tears freely fall. He lifted his head and wrapped his free arm around you, taking a deep drag before he spoke again.

“I forced you into all this. But you need to promise me that you won’t follow me. Promise me you won’t pick up on my behaviors and actions. Close your precious eyes for now on when I kill for you. Your innocence is what made me fall in love with you Y/N. Please don’t let me take that away from you.”

“I promise.…”

#my fics #joker one shot #my posts #joker #arthur fleck #joker fandom #joker fanfiction #joker angst #arthur fleck angst #joker x reader #joker x you #joker x y/n

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