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takingcourage · 3 years

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Family Ties

A Miscalculations one-shot

Pairing: M!Cassian x MC

Word Count: 3,400

Summary: Having Cassian back in her life means meeting his family too.

Note: This story is set somewhere between the final chapters and the epilogue of Miscalculations. It’s dedicated to my Cassian Nonnies and the now-inactive secretsaladbouquet, who once asked to see Kellen and Owen meet Cassian’s family.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this.”

“She’s going to love you, Kellen.”

“You don’t know that.” Rolling her lips flat, she stared past the sidewalk and up the stoop to the front door. Unassuming as it was, she couldn’t help imagining a critical woman peering through the diamond of frosted glass. A woman she had the sense that she’d already wronged despite never meeting her -- perhaps because she'd never met her.

Shifting the car into park, Cassian removed his hand from the gear and used it to cradle Kellen’s knee. “I know my Ma. She loves anything that makes me happy, and you’re at the top of the list.”

With a deep exhale, she felt a small portion of her worry melt away at his words.

“Besides,” he went on, “look who we’ve got in the backseat. You make a good impression on everyone, don’t you, Owen?”

“Uh-huh!”

Kellen giggled in spite of herself. Their son had almost-irritating tendency to agree with everything his father said, as long as it wasn’t related to vegetables or bedtime. “He’s like our secret weapon,” she agreed, punching her thumb on the seatbelt release.

“Show me your smile,” Cassian prompted, catching his son's eyes in the rearview mirror. The boy obliged, then resumed his efforts to pry apart the clip at his chest. “And yours?” Cassian continued, turning to the woman beside him.

Her lips curved instinctively at the question. Eyes dancing, he leaned into the passenger seat for a quick kiss. “Let’s go.”

Plucking up her courage, she tossed the strap off her shoulder and reached for her bag.

Kellen knew how to exude confidence. Between her flirtatious nature and her ability to stand up for herself against the naysayers in her line of work, she was used to taking the world by storm. Yet, she was at a loss as she mounted the doorstep, waiting to meet Cassian’s mother.

This wasn't a place to make an impression with double entendres or by bringing up her MBA. She didn’t even know how to get her own parents' attention, and they were the ones who’d raised her. What hope did she have of impressing the woman responsible for the incredible man standing next to her?

Hearing the click of the latch on the other side of the door, she shivered and held Owen’s hand a little bit tighter. The hair at her temple swayed as Cassian leaned forward to whisper in her ear. “You’ve got this.”

“Thanks,” she mouthed, focus still cemented on the door as it opened to reveal a dark-haired woman.

Though she’d seen pictures, Cassian’s mother was shorter than she’d imagined. She bit back a newfound sense of awe that this was the woman who’d brought eight children to a new country all on her own. But any threat of intimidation evaporated at the sight of the woman’s smile. Like her son and grandson, Teresa Keane had an incredibly ready grin.

“Hello, hello! Welcome.” The older woman’s thick brogue made Cassian’s accent sound weak by comparison.

“Ma, this is Kellen.”

“Hi, Mrs. Keane,” she greeted, stretching out her free hand.

“Hello, dear. Call me Teresa,” the older woman urged, pulling her in for a hug instead. Arms pressed awkwardly to her sides, Kellen tried to focus on the moment instead of berating herself. The attempt was only partially successful.

Ten seconds in, and I’ve already made a fool of myself. The thought sent a tremor of unease through her bones as Teresa pulled away.

“And this must be Owen?” She bent at the knees for a closer look. “How are you, young man? You’re very handsome, aren’t you?”

Feeding off the woman’s enthusiasm, Owen’s mouth cracked into a smile.

“He’s like a vision of the past, isn’t he?” she asked, straightening back to her full height to embrace her son.

“It’s uncanny,” he agreed.

Kellen warmed at the pride in his voice. They were fine -- this was fine. In spite of her misstep with the hug, things were still going relatively well.

“C’mon in,” Teresa beckoned. “It’s nearly winter and you’re still standing out here on my porch. It’s like you want this lovely family of yours to freeze, Cassian -- it really is. Let’s get inside.”

Gathering Owen into her arms, Kellen followed the other woman into the house, grateful when Cassian’s hand found the small of her back. Even if she and Kellen didn't get along right away, at least Teresa would see how attentive Cassian was toward them both.

“Is that apple cake I smell?” He asked, and Kellen breathed a chuckle at the question. Between the strong fragrance as they approached the kitchen the number of times it had come up in conversation, she could practically already taste it.

“Don’t sound so surprised. You know I make it any time there’s family over.”

Family. Was that how Teresa thought of them?

She means Cassian, you idiot, she corrected. And maybe Owen. They are related, after all. Whatever Teresa meant, Kellen was fairly certain she wasn’t part of it. But maybe someday...

Hoisting Owen a little higher, she tried to focus back on Teresa's voice.

“... told Cal not to cut into it until we got back, but I had to post Grainne in the kitchen to keep him in check. I’ve been watching him like a hawk all morning.

Kellen’s ears perked at the familiar names and tried to conjure up the images that matched them. Even with pictures to help, there were so many people to keep track of that it had taken nearly an hour for her to get the names and birth order of his siblings straight. With a flash of panic, she remembered how many members of his family she’d have left to meet after today.

Don’t get ahead of yourself, Kellen. Today is about Teresa. The fact that she was meeting two of his siblings was fairly incidental. As the youngest, Callahan was living at home while he attended university. Grainne -- Cassian’s eldest sister and the one he was closest to -- had devised an excuse to join them at her older brother’s insistence.

“I can hardly blame him. It smells delicious.” Kellen tried to gather the threads of conversation she still remembered, hoping there was still time to salvage the afternoon. “I assume you’re who I have to thank for Cassian being such a wonderful cook?”

The sound that came out of Teresa’s mouth was inarticulate, but it struck Kellen as vaguely disparaging. “I saw to it that no child of mine would ever have to rely on takeaway. They’ve all been cooking since they were old enough to reach the stove.”

Kellen bit her tongue to silence the curse that was hovering at the tip. She'd have a fit if she knew her grandson was subsisting on my repertoire of frozen bag meals and grilled cheese sandwiches. Maybe Cassian can give me some lessons before the next time we come over

“Mama, I thirsty.”

Shifting Owen’s weight to her hip, she dug into her deep leather tote for his bottle. Their eyes locked as he clicked the button to release the cap and sucked the straw. As she trailed Teresa into the kitchen, she stroked the boy’s curls fondly. Trivial as the interaction had been, she couldn’t help her sense of relief at the small reminder that her son’s needs were still being met.

Still shielding the cake as they entered, Grainne was the first to speak. “Cass! Good to see you.” If Cassian's stories hadn't left her with such a favorable impression of his sister, the woman's sparkling eyes and bubbly affect might have given cause for alarm. “And Kellen?” Abandoning her post, she slipped an arm around the other woman's shoulders.

This time, Kellen was more prepared. Though her hands were still occupied with Owen and her bag, she managed to lean into the embrace instead of standing still. "It's a pleasure to meet you. Cassian talks about you all the time,” she shared as Grainne pulled away.

From his place at the breakfast table, Callahan lifted a hand in salute.

Once the adults had finished introductions, Grainne’s attention turned to the only child in the room. “Hey there, buddy. Can you tell me your name?”

Holding his cup close to his chest, the boy replied with serious eyes. “Owen.”

“Owen, huh? I like that name.”

He gave her a toothy smile and wriggled to be let down. Releasing him to the floor, Kellen stretched out a hand to keep him from venturing too close to the stove where Teresa was finishing up the custard.

“He’s so sweet,” Grainne crooned in Kellen’s direction. “I can’t believe how much he looks like you, Cass.”

“Poor kid.” Cal quipped, tilting his chair to balance on the back two legs. “Pity you’re such an ugly ba--”

Spoon in hand, Teresa turned on her youngest before he could even think of adding a second syllable. “Callahan Arthur Keane! There are young ears in this room. You should be ashamed."

“Yes, Ma.” All four legs of his chair smacked the tile floor.

Kellen squatted down to retrieve Owen’s cup before it could roll under the table. Out of sight, her brows furrowed in concern. Was Cassian on such bad terms with Cal? She knew he’d asked Grainne to come in order to help temper his youngest sibling’s dubious charms, but it had never occurred to her that the two brothers might not get along.

Schooling her features before she rose, she wondered vaguely if she needed to come to Cassian’s defense.

Goodness knew she and her own brother weren’t close enough to have any kinds of disagreements. They didn’t know one another well enough to offer meaningful insults. But her parents certainly did. She considered it a miracle if the three of them made it more than five minutes without trading barbs. If the situation had somehow been reversed, would she have wanted Cassian to defend her against their criticisms?

She couldn’t say for certain, but the question was enough to make her feel sick to her stomach.

“You’re just bitter, Cal. We all know there weren’t any good genes left by the time it came to you.”

Recognizing the teasing edge in Cassian’s tone, she realized she’d been misreading the entire interaction. Blood rushed to her cheeks along with the certainty of her mistake. His family isn’t like that, Kellen. They don’t have those fights.

Noticing her distraction, Cassian raised a brow in concern. She quickly shrugged it away before he resumed the conversation.

“He’s only like me when it comes to looks. He’s already better with numbers than I am. Should we show your Uncle Cal, Owen?”

“Uh-huh!”

Still exploring the floor, Owen probably wasn’t even certain what he’d agreed to, but he always had plenty of uh-huhs for his father. Most of his nun-uhs and noes were, unfortunately, reserved for her. She smirked as her son turned his attention to Cassian. Come to think of it, she couldn’t blame him for the preferential treatment. His father had a tendency to get all of her yeses as well.

“C’mere,” Cassian prompted, and the boy who’d been squirming in her arms no more than two minutes before happily climbed up on his father’s knee. With the ease of practice, the man held out his hand, fingers stretched. Owen took them in turn, counting off in a lilting rhythm.

“One... two.... three...four....”

Of the two of them, Cassian was by far the more accommodating teacher. Kellen was always slow to provide answers when the boy faltered, intent on learning exactly how far his memorization skills had progressed. Cassian mouthed everything along with him, sometimes whispering hints with pretend secrecy. She hadn’t determined which approach was the most pedagogically sound, but there was no question which one was more fun to watch.

Teresa had turned from her place at the stove, positively beaming as she saw the two of them interact. Even Cal had slipped his phone into his pocket and adopted a courteous expression.

“Seven...eight...”

Owen’s brow furrowed, and he launched himself toward Cassian’s ear in concern. Even though Kellen didn’t catch all of the words he whispered, all signs pointed to a call of nature.

“Excuse us,” Cassian offered, pushing back his chair so that Owen could hop down from his knee. “We’ll be back shortly.”

Kellen breathed a quiet laugh as they passed into the hall, all at once aware of the tension now that the one person who connected them was gone. Feeling an uncustomary loss for words, she tried to recall what she knew about the room’s other occupants. Grainne was in sales, Cal was finishing pre-requisites and hadn’t declared a major, Teresa did administrative work for one of Cassian’s brothers-in-law... that didn’t give her a lot of ideas for sparking conversations.

“Mona?”

“Hmm?” It took a beat for Kellen to comprehend that the word was a question.

“Your lipstick,” Grainne clarified. “It’s Mona, isn’t it?”

“Oh, yeah. I’m impressed! Cassian told me you were into fashion, but...”

“My roommate is a beauty vlogger. You see enough swatches, some of it just starts to stick. It’s a great shade with that outfit, by the way.”

“Thanks.” Suddenly self conscious about the rest of her makeup, Kellen’s eyes flicked to the semi-reflective door of the microwave, but it was no use. The image was too dark to reveal anything about the application, though she was sure it had been passable when she’d left her apartment some hour before.

“It’s nice not to be the odd one out in the family anymore,” Grainne continued, leveling luminous brown eyes at Kellen. “My sisters have been refusing makeovers for years. At least Ma lets me pick her nail polish from time to time.”

Kellen’s lips crept into a smile as Teresa pshawed the statement. “Don’t speak ill of those who aren’t here to defend themselves.”

“You sound like the girls who sit in front of me in psych class,” Cal complained, phone in hand again. “They’re always carrying on about makeup and shoes. It’s moronic.”

Grainne cocked a conspiratorial brow across the table. Kellen met her grin, bracing her elbows on the table as they listened to Cal's continued complaints.

“I’m sorry you lead such a rough existence, Cal,” Grainne offered sarcastically when he paused to check a notification. “I’ll say an extra prayer for you tonight.”

“Plates?” Teresa cut in, her implied command rousing her youngest from his seat.

Kellen had to hide her giggle after the glance she shared with Cassian’s sister. No wonder he was so fond of the woman. She didn't want to get ahead of herself, but it was easy to see the two of them becoming friends. Making light conversation as Cal set the table, she hardly had opportunity to miss her boyfriend and son.

By the time Owen and Cassian returned, the cake and been cut and was ready to serve. His needs met, Owen returned his father’s knee while Teresa passed out the slices.

Kellen leaned over to straighten the buttons on the boy’s shirt. “Maybe you should share a piece, at least until we know he likes it? There’s a lot of cinnamon on top.” Catching herself, she glanced toward Teresa, “I can’t wait to dig in. Owen’s just a wild card when it comes to spices.”

“He’ll like custard.” Cassian poured a measure onto his cake and slipped his son a bite, beaming with glee at the boy’s enthusiastic response.

“More, please?”

With a hearty laugh, Cassian obliged. “Save some for the rest of us, a stór.”

“I’ll get him a dish,” Teresa insisted, returning to the cupboard for a toddler-sized bowl.

Like his affinity for sisters, Cassian’s taste in desserts was unassailable. The apple cake was, indeed, one of the best things Kellen had ever tasted. With the sharp tang of stewed apple, warm blend of spices, and rich, velvety cream, she was starting to feel like she never wanted to leave Teresa’s kitchen.

They finished eating some twenty minutes later, and Grainne stepped into the other room to take a phone call. Increasingly sleepy, Owen was preparing for a second attempt at counting. Exchanging a polite smile with Teresa, Kellen gathered up the dishes from their side of the table and followed the older woman to the sink.

She’s lovely and kind, and she seems to like you so far. Make conversation, her subconscious urged as she set the plates on the tile countertop. “Cassian’s told me about his nephew and nieces -- your other grandchildren?”

“I have four. Well, five now,” she adjusted, watching Owen tug on Cassian’s fingers. “Jack’s going to be so excited to finally have a boy cousin. He was so disappointed when Ciara’s last one was another girl.”

Kellen nodded with a faint smile, feeling heavy with the reminder of how extensive the Keane family was. Even with Cassian’s many assurances that they were loving and supportive, she was still an outsider. Perhaps she always would be.

“I have to tell you, Kellen, you’re not at all like I imagined.”

Panic pierced through like a knife to the gut.

Kellen expelled a shallow breath, feeling like she’d had the wind knocked out of her. For the past hour, she’d been lulling herself into a sense of security. Sure, there had been some missteps, but they'd started to find their footing -- or so she’d thought. But really, Kellen, she chastised, Cassian’s incredible. Is it any wonder you don’t measure up?

This was her worst nightmare. She could deal with their judgment, but if they didn’t accept her? She couldn’t ask Cassian to choose between her and his family.

“Oh, but I didn’t mean it in a bad way.” Teresa reached for Kellen’s arm, grasping it just above the wrist. “You know how he is: he’s got this constant need to swoop in and be a hero. I always worried he’d end up with a woman who was afraid of the world and needed rescuing all the time. That’s not what I see when I look at you, Kellen.”

For the second time that afternoon, Kellen bit back the words that came on impulse. Despite her frequent insistence to the contrary, she had been the kind of woman who’d needed rescuing. But with Cassian -- in many ways, because of Cassian -- that wasn’t the case anymore.

Lost to her thoughts, it took a few minutes to realize that Teresa had continued speaking. “You keep up with him. You challenge him.” A bony elbow prodded her side softly. “And you make him the happiest I’ve seen in ages. I’m glad he has you.”

“Thanks,” she mumbled in response, wondering how tentative that gratitude must be. For a mother, it would be all too easy to see her as the woman who’d broken her son’s heart. With a shiver, she considered how she would react when face to face with someone who’d hurt Owen in the same way.

She certainly wouldn’t be this civil.

“I’m really grateful to have him in my life again.” Glancing back to the man at the table, she couldn’t help the impulsive compliment. ”You must have been an amazing mother.”

“I did what I could," she agreed, nonchalantly. "Cassian said you don’t see your own parents very often?”

“Maybe once or twice a year. We’re hardly close.”

Turning back to the sink, Kellen expected to see judgment. She found only a genuine smile: a reflection of one she’d seen countless times before. “I’m sorry for that. I hope you know you’re always welcome here with us. Cassian knows this already, but we'll be getting together for dinner for Jack's birthday next week -- we'd love for you and Owen to join us if you'd like."

“I’d like that very much,” she assured, hardly giving the question a moment’s thought. She didn’t need time to consider; her eager anticipation was already proving that it was the right answer. Her eyes swung back to the table, imagining how much Owen was going to enjoy getting to know his cousins.

When they’d decided to go all in, to jump headfirst into this relationship without looking back, she’d thought that the family she had with Owen and Cassian would be all she ever wanted. But this afternoon was reminding her of something she been learning time and again since Cassian came into her life: what a delight it was to be proven wrong.

#playchoices #playchoices fanfiction #witness: a bodyguard romance #cassian keane #cassian x mc

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mxpseudonym · 4 years

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Everything There Is

Pairing: Tommy x OC

Summary: Florence and Tommy are in this together.

Request: “Hi! Can you do a Tommy x oc or reader as his wife in an arranged marriage where she is also a business woman and their marriage was a sort of contract and their relationship is mainly professional apart from sex n all, and Tommy comes home all worn out and she asks him to share with her and tommy is reluctant but she assures and reminds him that she is capable of protecting the family, Charlie and Tommy too. And then they just kiss and Tommy leans into her or something. Thank you!!”

Length: 1650 words (allegedly)

Warnings: Underlying tones of forced/arranged marriage

A/N: Hello sweet, tender anon. This was a joy to write, especially Charlie 🥺. What a sweet angel.

Florence Heywood had been meeting with Tommy for two years about his investments. At first, Shelby Company Ltd simply needed advice from her property management company about renting and leasing. However, Florence and Tommy quickly found they were both as ambitious and calculating as the other. Unlike her other clients, Tommy didn't gaff at her suggestions of overseas ventures or buying big. It was a joyous union. Even Florence's mother didn't understand her dedication to the company. However, it was the senior Mrs. Heywood's father, who left the business to his granddaughter.

"Don't you have enough, dear? You've come so far, not just as a woman, but as a business owner," her mother said after being told that grandchildren were not a priority. Florence wanted more. She was a modern woman who craved a legacy and a family name that honored her grandfather's work.

"Enough of that," Tommy said, sliding a few signed documents into a folder before turning to her. "I told you to stop being so easy to read. Now, what's wrong?"

Florence rolled her eyes but was thankful when Tommy went to pour them some whiskey. The upside to meeting at Tommy's home was that the rules were nonexistent. She didn't even have to leave her shoes on.

"My mother wants me to get married soon, probably have kids," she groaned. "She's set me up to go to the pictures with a banker on Friday."

"Isn't that what most women want?" Tommy walked over and handed her a glass of amber liquid.

"You'd be surprised," Florence said, then sighed. "I'm just scared."

"Florence Heywood is scared of something? Hard to believe." Tommy shook his head.

"My grandfather left me his business when it was just one tiny office on Victoria Street. He put everything he had into it to make something of our name and pass something on. What if some prick weasels his way in and ruins it all? It’ll be his to gamble away. Or starts mistreating my employees. It's the stuff of nightmares." She shivered and looked to Tommy, who nodded in understanding.

"We Shelby's want to do the same thing. Work hard enough to have what the toffs do- the opportunities and good fortune. My brothers and I fought side by side with those fuckers in the war. We get the shell shock, blow our bloody brains out, fuckin' live with demons, don't we? But they got everything, and we got nothing. Nothing changed." Tommy said. Florence was surprised to hear him talk with her like this but certainly didn't stop him. "But I have my family and my son. Anything less than success is unacceptable. You're right to be critical. You've got to know who's on your side."

"Easier said than done," she mumbled. "How is Charlie, by the way?"

"He's with his tutor now. Won't stop talking about that train set you told him about last time," Tommy chuckled. Florence's grandfather's spare room that had the most extensive train set she'd seen. She was happy to tell Charlie all about it, but now he was intrigued.

"I'll happily take the blame."

"Hope you've got something planned to remedy this in the near future."

"I will talk to Father Christmas," Florence offered with a laugh. She sighed and thought of all of what Tommy has worked for and her as well. "You know what, Tommy? You and I are doing it. We're making a name for ourselves. Even when no one understands what we want, we have a vision." Tommy smirked, noticing that the strong drink was already making her eyes a bit glossy.

"And what is it that we want?" He asked. She raised her glass and motioned for him to do the same.

"Everything there is."

In life, Tommy wasn’t often surprised. Sure he was blind sided now and again, but his cynical nature taught him to expect the worst. A few weeks after his optimistic toast with her, Florence arranged a meeting on the grounds of having a new venture for him that would challenge his ability to be two steps ahead. The last thing he expected was a marriage contract. Like any other venture, she laid out the facts, including Tommy needing to do something good for his image as a new politician.

"This is really...something." Tommy looked over her detailed work in a slight daze.

"I know, and please don't think I take this lightly. I'm just thinking about Shelby Company Ltd and Heywood Capital, establishing a bloody empire," Florence explained. Tommy could see the stars in her eyes as she thought about the possibilities. It was her promise that locked him in, however.

"Tommy Shelby, I will protect you if you will protect me. That's as good as any marriage, isn't it?"

Tommy thought about it for a few days. Florence Heywood, a woman he'd call his friend and one of the savviest people he knew, wanted to get married in the name of a legacy. He could hardly believe it when he picked up the phone and called her office.

"Everything there is, eh?"

It took several hours of negotiation, a prenuptial agreement, and the presence of a lawyer. Still, in the end, he said yes.

For a while, the Shelby's referred to Florence in the form of the question, "isn't she that woman who manages Tommy's properties?" And Mrs. Heywood gave Florence an earful for getting engaged without ever bringing Tommy around for tea. But after a bumpy start, the rest went rather seamlessly.

One year later, Florence was sitting in her own lovely office in Arrow House with Charlie on her lap. She hadn't planned on reading to Charlie every night, but Charlie would sooner sneak out of bed in his pajamas and ambush her in her office than miss her reading to him. And he did.

"Both parties should review the completed document carefully to ensure that all relevant deal points have been included," Florence read softly. Charlie was nearing a deep sleep, so Alice in Wonderland was sneakily replaced by the contracts she was in the middle of reviewing.

When she heard the front door close, she stopped to check her watch. It was a quarter past 9 PM already. She followed the sound of Tommy's footsteps going up the stairs then quickly descending moments later. He was panicked, she could tell. If not from his steps, from the way he burst into her office.

"Sh!" Florence placed a finger to her lips. Tommy let out a breath of relief as he ran a hand through his hair. Tommy came over and placed a hand on Charlie's head, then a kiss to his forehead. Florence was surprised she received one as well.

"He couldn't sleep?" Tommy asked quietly, eyes looking to the papers in her hand.

"He wouldn't allow it without a story. Tonight's is Once Upon a Time There Was A Walk-Up in Camden Town," she mused then pressed her own kiss to Charlie's head. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, it's fine."

"Is it fine, or is it nothing?" She asked, raising an eyebrow.

"It's," Tommy sighed once again, thinking about his day, his week even. The Russians, the Irish, hell, Arthur, and fucking Linda. Christ.

"Tommy," Florence's voice cut through the smoke and mud, bringing him back into the present. She stood smoothly, expertly shifting Charlie to her hip. "I know you're stressed. I just want to remind you that we promised to protect each other, right? Whatever it is, we figure it out together."

Tommy reached up and cupped her cheek.

"You're right, we promised. I promised." He leaned forward and kissed her softly. It took everything for Florence to remind herself that there was no place for weak knees when holding her child. "Let's put him to bed, and I'll tell you it all, Mrs. Shelby."

Tommy Tag List: @soleil-dor; @amysteryspot

#Tommy Shelby #Tommy Shelby Imagine #Tommy Shelby x ofc #Tommy Shelby x OC #Peaky Blinders Imagine #Tommy Shelby x reader #Charlie Shelby #Charlie Shelby Imagine #Tommy Shelby Fluff #request fulfilled!

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rwbyvein · 3 years

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Firen Lhain: Chapter 605: Smouldering Embers: Part III/III

RWBY + JNR + Q and I stood around the patio.

"So, how do I do this?" Nora asked.

"You know how you transfer your Aura into your hammer?" Jaune asked.

"Noooo?.." Nora nervously asked.

"What?" Jaune said, "I mean, you lift a giant hammer."

"That's because I'm super strong!" Nora exclaimed.

"Nope." Jaune said.

"What do you mean, nope?" Nora asked, "I almost beat Yang in an arm wrestle."

"Let's keep telling yourself that." Yang said with a bright smile.

"I mean, it's not your muscles." Jaune said.

"It's not?" Nora asked, as she flexed, looking at her muscles.

Jaune flexed in front of her, and she just stared at it. "It's not your muscles," Jaune said to her, "it's your Aura."

"Sweet!" Nora exclaimed, "buuuut... it does feel like muscles, doesn't it?"

"I don't know about you," Yang stated, "but I'm totally buff." Yang flexed, but then Jaune flexed again, causing most of those present to stare. He breathed in deep and sighed, "If you can't feel yourself using the Aura, I don't know if I can explain it to you?.."

"I can try." Qrow voiced, but then looked at Blake, "but I think she's figured it out."

"Blake?" Jaune asked, who lightly bounced up and down.

"I need something I can punch without worrying about hurting someone."

Jaune then walked into the middle of the patio, and Blake nervously walked up with him. "What's up?" Jaune asked, when he caught Blake's eyes starting at his armour. "Oh, that?" Jaune asked, and quickly pulled off his cuirasse. He held it out to Yang who quickly walked over to grab it. Jaune then pulled his hoodie off, followed by his shirt, standing in his shirtless glory. Most of RWBY were a bit weak at the knees, but Yang found the strength to walk to the side with Jaune's equipment. Ruby quickly grabbed Jaune's shirt whereas Weiss surreptitiously grabbed his hoodie. Ruby looked over to find Weiss wearing the hoodie as Yang stuck her nose inside Jaune's cuirasse and deeply inhaled. Qrow and Oscar held his pauldrons, respectively. "Thank you." Jaune said to Oscar, who simply nodded in reply. Jaune then turned to Blake. "Let's start with some light taps." Jaune said, and Blake nodded in reply.

The two danced around, lightly tapping each other a few times.

"Okay, hit me." Jaune said. Blake moved in, and the light-blue on her arms lit up, bursts of wind striking at Jaune with every punch. The punches, and hence wind were still incredibly light. "Okay," Jaune said, "NOW HIT ME!"

"Are you sure?"

"I'm pretty sure the big guy can take it." Qrow voiced.

Blake breathed in deep before lunching at Jaune as fast as she could. She gave him one deep, powerful punch. Jaune grunted and did not move the slightest for a few moments.

"You... okay big guy?" Yang asked him.

"I'll admit..." Jaune voiced, "That hurt." He then wheezed for a few moments. Yang went to slap him on his back, but it was absorbed by his Aura.

"Aura's still intact, meaning you hit him THROUGH his Aura."

"He's probably winded." Qrow voiced, "Even if the Aura can absorb the impact, direct physical force can still be felt through it. You okay?"

"Just... winded." Jaune voiced.

"Shit, girl," Yang said, "You really did it hard."

Qrow then looked at Nora. "You want to..."

"You know what?" Nora asked, "If it's going to be lightning, but still be green, I kind don't want it any more." She then turned to Weiss, "Can you give me a PINK lightning bolt?!"

"Not from Woad..." Weiss voiced.

"But, you can do it?!" Nora asked.

"If we get bodypaint, it will be easy enough." Weiss affirmed.

"Wicked." Nora stated.

Ruby eagerly raised her hand, "Ooh! Ooh!"

"Let me guess?.." Weiss asked her, "You want a rose?"

"Okay, when you put it that way, it doesn't sound as good, anymore."

"I love how Linnet," Yang voiced, "isn't objecting to be our designated bodypainter."

"I... had not even thought of it." Weiss voiced.

"I bet you haven't" Qrow said with a smile.

"Is that a smile?!" Nora asked him.

"I smile..." Qrow voiced, "sometimes... maybe... Honestly, I really don't know..."

"He always seems to smile when he's visiting us." Yang said.

"Or when he's coming in all wicked-cool," Ruby voiced, "swinging his scythe to save us."

"Ehn..." Qrow voiced, "I'm usually not smiling, but stressed out of my mind."

"You did a good job of hiding it." Yang stated.

"I'll blame that on the booze." Qrow voiced, "But you girls are what I've worried most about. Wish I could have done more for you."

"He did kind of adopt us." Nora stated.

"I what?.." Qrow asked.

* * *

Arthur Watts sat at his desk, looking into a Seer. "A dozen individual letters through a dozen separate middlemen, sitting on my desk."

"What do they say?" Salem asked through the Seer.

"For those in the know, it provides a detailed account of the Battle of Haven." Arthur stated, "For those who don't know, it's more of an ominous warning."

"Did any get through?" Salem asked.

"Just one." Arthur stated, "From Ms. Rose to her father. I opened the envelope, read it, resealed it, and sent it on it's way."

"What - EXACTLY did it say?" Salem asked.

"Oh, the usual drivel about how wonderful it is for them to be reunited. Celebrating over their victory. Ms. Xiao Long wants her father to know how well his 'Summer Princess' is doing. Ms. Weiss is apparently having conflicting emotions about not being able to return to Atlas. Nothing of any consequence."

"You'd better hope so." Salem stated.

"I find hope to be an overrated emotion." Arthur replied, "I prefer to rely on my intellect."

"Well, then - let's hope it doesn't fail you." Salem said.

"Yes, how very... clever... of you..." he dismissively said.

* * *

Mercury walked past Emerald, barely looking at her. "Remember when you were stealing my wallet? Look at us now..." Mercury said, looking at the colossal, evil fortress. "Look at us, now."

* * *

Emerald hid in her room as she opened up Mercury's wallet. Inside she found a letter. "We all know the only reason you are here, so, as I much as I hate to say this, I say we work together."

"Like I need his help." Emerald said, ripping up the letter. She then grabbed the Lien cards from the wallet.

* * *

Emerald walked up to Mercury. "You dropped this." she said, as she handed him his wallet.

* * *

Mercury opened the wallet in his room. "Do you think we can?" she asked, and Mercury quickly ripped up the letter.

* * *

Mercury walked up to Salem on her throne. "And exactly why are you disturbing me?" she asked.

"Emerald picked my wallet and stole my Lien." he said to her.

"Do you honestly think I care?!" she strongly voiced.

"No." he simply stated, "But I'm not working for free."

"Is Lien all you think about?" Salem asked.

"What more do you have?" Mercury asked.

Salem almost smiled. Almost. "Call Arthur on a Seer. He'll get you more than enough money."

"As you wish." Mercury stated, and bowed before turning away.

* * *

Arthur broke the connection to Mercury and then opened one to Salem. "Yes?!" she strongly asked him.

"I do believe our young recruits are up to something." Arthur said to her.

"Of course they are." Salem stated, "That doesn't mean they'll be able to accomplish anything. Their loyalty is tied to Cinder, which means their usefulness is also tied to hers... and at the moment..."

"Do you think she's alive?" Arthur asked.

"It really doesn't matter." Salem stated, "I gave her more power than she could imagine, and she had a small army with her. And yet, she failed. Even if she's alive, she'll have to prove her usefulness again."

"And... if the twins decide to flee?" Arthut asked.

"Then they'll flee to Mistral to look for her." Salem replied, "If she's alive, that will just make it easier for you find her." With this Arthur developed a wicked smile. "Do keep in touch."

"You might want to tell your pet, Tyrian to let them go, or he might..." Arthur voiced, "but, you do know Tyrian."

"It's not like we can actually tell him the plan," Salem voiced, "but I'll tell him not to interfere."

#rwby #firen lhain #faunus au #pollinated knight

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justimagineitblog · 4 years

Text

“You Used To Love Me” Michael Gray Fan Fiction - Chapter 11

A/N: Here it is!!! Okay so I do have an apology to make - I’ve had lots of beautiful amazing people asking when this chapter was coming, and although I know it has only been 4 or 5 days since I uploaded Chapter 10, I hate leaving you guys hanging. And I am so blessed to have people enjoy this series enough to ask for it - it’s mind blowing to me! I’m putting a lot of pressure on these final few chapters because I want them to be perfect and end the series right, and so that does mean I kind of get stuck in a weird writers block because I’m so hard on myself!

But ANYWAYSSS..... here it is.... I hope you all enjoy it... by order of the peaky fookin blinders xxxx

Michael keeps me in his arms all the way until Bill’s body is dragged away and the private family doctor has arrived. His grip never loosens. Never falters.

When the doctor arrives, asking to check me over for concussions and any other injuries from being thrashed around, Michael basically has to tear himself of me.

“You sure you’re okay?” He breathes, holding onto me nervously. The way he holds me is protective, I can practically feel it radiating off him like heat.

“I’m okay, I’m okay” I coo, trying to calm some of the panic that is stubbornly clinging onto him. Bill is gone now. I’m safe. I’m alive. But it’s almost like Michael doesn’t quite believe that. Or maybe he doesn’t believe that I’m in his arms again. And honestly, I don’t blame him. Part of me can’t even tell if I have a concussion or if I’m just in shock from feeling his touch for the first time in a long time.

Reluctantly he slowly lets me out of his grip, helping me into the chair. But even then he still doesn’t let go completely, keeping his hand on my arm.

“Alright let’s take a look” the doctor begins, pulling out a light to check my eye movements.

I feel Michael crouch down beside me, squeezing my arm in reassurance. Though I’m not sure who he is reassuring more - me or himself.

The room is spinning, and I focus my hardest on not falling straight off the chair as the doctor asks me to follow his finger as he waves it in front of my face.

Next to me Michael has begun bouncing his leg impatiently - something he always used to do when he was nervous. I always used to put my hand on his thigh, and it would stop, disappearing under my touch. Slowly, I reach my arm out to him, and put my palm over his knee. Maybe it’s just a reflex now. Something I don’t even think about. My body and brain just know what to do and they do it without even thinking.

I feel his knee steady, slowing all the way to a halt. But underneath my hand I can almost feel the all the pent up, panic ridden energy coursing through him. Like buzzing of electrical wires.

“Well what’s going on? Is she okay?” He demands the doctor, urging him to hurry up.

The doctor hums, giving me a final once over before stepping away from me.

“Not a concussion, nothing serious” he concludes.

Michael lets out a sigh of relief so loud and harsh it almost sounds like a sob.

“But you have been shaken up. A lot” he tells me “You’ve taken quite a beating. You’re going to be sore. You’re going to be coming down of a lot of shock and adrenaline. Do you live with someone Izzy?”

“No, I live alone in my apartment” I rub at my throat, not realising how strained and hoarse it feels to speak. I didn’t realise how hard he had been choking me.

“Well look I think it’s best if someone stays with you tonight, just incase, alright?”

“You can stay with us Izzy-“ Polly begins, but Michael’s voice cuts in urgently as he speaks over the top of her.

“I’ll do it” Michael’s voice cuts in abruptly, and I shoot my head towards him in shock. Unsure if it was from the movement or the fact that he just offered to stay and look after me tonight, but the room starts to spin again.

“No, Michael-” I try to shake my head, to decline his offer, but that only makes the dizziness it worse

“Izzy” he breathes, trying to insist without being too firm with me, sensing that I’m feeling weak “It’s okay, I’ll do it”

He locks his eyes on mine, wide and genuine as he tries to insist that he isn’t going anywhere. That he’s got me. Reassuring me in the way his words can’t. The feeling is bittersweet. That the man who broke my heart into two is here in front of me now desperately trying to mend it. That the man who broke me is in front me now desperately trying to protect me.

“Let’s get you up, see if you can walk” the doctor walks back over to me, holding out his arms to help me up. Michael jumps up immediately, practically pushing the doctor out of the way as he holds his arms out to me to hold onto like railings to steady myself.

I push myself up of the chair, expecting to fall in a heap back onto the floor but much to my relief I stay standing, my body regaining some kind of strength although it is aching and sore.

“There you go” he coos softly at me.

Tommy, Arthur and Michael all help me clamber my stiff and aching body in the car, Michael rushing around to the drivers side to drive me home. We are silent the whole way to my apartment, but every few seconds Michael glances over at me to check I’m still okay.

Getting my my flights of stairs are the next hurdle.

“Alright just hold on me yeah, we’ll go slow” he reassures me.

Taking a deep breath, I cling one hand onto the stairway railing and the other onto his arm. He takes every slow step with me. Never rushing me. Never taking his worried eyes off me the entire time.

“You’re almost there” he encourages me as we make the final steps, getting closer to my apartment door.

“Did the doctor say anything about not being able to drink whiskey?” I mutter through a painful grimace “Cause I think I need one”

“I won’t tell him if you don’t” he chuckles at me.

“You better not” I smirk back at him.

When we get inside I’m desperate to get out of my stupid tight dress. Every time the goddamn thing rubs against my bruising back and ribs it makes me want to tear the thing clean off.

“Alright I’m here, thank you” I smile at him as he helps me through my apartment and into my bedroom.

“Izzy, you’re getting rid of me”

I sigh. God knows I want to spend every moment with Michael. But I’m exhausted. Mentally and physically. I don’t know how I can handle being around him for the night when I know tomorrow he’s going to leave and go back to Gina and life will carry on as normal.

But the look on his face tells me he’s right - I’m not getting rid of him anytime soon.

“Fine” I submit, walking over to my closet as I pull out my nightgown. Expecting him to have taken the signal and left the room, I try to wriggle of my dress but fail. My body feels about as flexible as a plank of wood right now.

“Fuck this fucking dress” I hiss under my breath.

“Let me help you” Michael’s voice interrupts suddenly.

“What, no” I step away from him in shock, my brows furrowed.

He opens his mouth, pausing awkwardly as he realises that he basically just offered to help me change out of my clothes. To see me naked.

“Izzy, it’s okay, I’ve seen you…“ he looks away to the corner of the room as he insinuates that he’s seen me naked before. I feel my skin flushing hotly, as does Michael’s.

“That was… before“ I blush furiously at the thought. All of this is so bizarre to me. So foreign. When we were together, Michael and I used to potter around the house naked in front of one another all the time. He new every inch of my body and I knew his. Now the thought of being naked in front of him makes me feel stripped bare and vulnerable in the worst way possible. I never thought I would ever have to feel that way around him. Never in my wildest dreams or worst nightmares.

I shake my head at him, and he digresses quickly, realising he’s over stepped a mark that he didn’t even mean to. He turns to face the other direction, walking to the other side of the room momentarily to give me privacy while I change.

Or at least while I try to. My back is tender and sore. As I try to pull off my dress and slide on my night gown, every movement sends pains shooting all through my back, neck, ribs and head.

“Fuck” I hiss, unable to hide the fact that I’m in a lot of pain and to be honest, I do need his help.

Hearing me struggle, cursing in pain, I feel Michael rush over to me.

“Izzy, here just let me help alright” he holds my shoulders.

I sigh. I know I need it. I know I need his help.

“Look” he begins “I’ll shut my eyes okay”

I roll my eyes, my head falling back “Michael don’t be stupid-“

“I’m serious” he insists, suddenly squeezing his eyes shut “See”

I stare up at him. He really is serious. Most men wouldn’t even bother. But he does. He doesn’t want to see me naked. He just wants to help. Maybe make up for all the damage he’s done in whatever small way he can.

When I don’t protest, I feel his hands reach for my dress. With his eyes still clamped shut, proving that he can’t see anything, he begins to slide the fabric up over my body. If my heart wasn’t completely racing and pounding in my chest itself, I could have sworn that I felt his hands shaking. Every inch that the fabric glides up my body is painfully slow as it exposes my naked skin. The only thing to be heard in the room is our shaky breaths brushing on one another faces. Mine begins to quicken as the reality of the fact that Michael is here in my bedroom, undressing me, begins to set in. His hands are so close to my skin but they never fully touch, and I can feel that buzzing energy radiating off of him once again. I’m sure he can feel it radiating of me too. Michael lifts the dress up over my head and raised arms, leaving me completely naked. The tension is thick and heavy, weighing down on us like wading through water.

He drops it to the floor, and I watch him wearily as I pick up my night gown and hand it to him. I wait for him to open his eyes. But he never does. He keeps them closed firmly. He takes the nightgown, holding it open for me to step in to.

I hold onto his shoulders, steadying myself as I step inside the fabric, one leg at a time.

“How you going down there?” He asks, a hint of a smile on his lips.

“Surviving” I reply, unable to stop myself from giggling nervously as the tension has made me giddy. He returns the gesture with his own little laugh. It feels like we’re two stupid teenagers who are undressing each other for the first time.

Once I’m in the nightgown, he slides the straps up over my arms, the skin of his palm accidentally brushing against me. I feel myself twitch beneath the feeling of his bare skin on mine, like an electric shock.

I exhale in relief once I realise that I’m fully dressed again.

“You can open them now” I coo as we stand only inches away from each other.

When those Tenerife blue eyes open into mine, his eye lashes fluttering until they’re peering at me fully, my heart skips so many beats in a row I’m surprised I don’t pass out right there. I haven’t look into his eyes this close in a long time. I haven’t been this close to him in general in a long time. We stay dead silent, words would never do justice for what is circulating between us right now, so we just search for the answers in each others eyes instead. The only thing that draws me away from his gaze is when I notice his freckles. I wonder what he’s noticing about my face. What he missed the most. If he missed anything at all. Is he counting the smile lines around my eyes. Around my mouth. Does he know that he put most of them there? Is he fascinated with the flush of my cheeks the same way I’m fascinated by his freckles? They’re my favourite part. I used to count them. Trace them with my finger tips while he fell asleep. Kiss them. I loved the way they looked when his nose was crinkled up in a laugh. But that’s the reality isn’t. The slap in the face. They were my favourite part. They’re not mine anymore.

With that abrupt, heart crushing thought I am brought back to my surroundings. When I step away from him, he blinks rapidly a few times, almost like he was pulled out of a trance that he wasn’t ready to leave yet. But he follows my lead, backing away from me too.

“Did you uh- Did you want to go to sleep? I’ll let you get to sleep…” He stutters sheepishly, fumbling for anything to fill the space and silence.

“I don’t think I could sleep if I wanted to” I shake my head. Sure, I could get into bed. And lie awake, staring at the ceiling for hours.

“Yeah, me too” he sighs, burying his hands into his pockets. I’ll never get used to seeing him shy like this. We were never awkward around each other. From day one he was my safe person and I was his. Now we’re just a pair of stuttering balls of anxiety with enough tension buzzing between us to cut with a knife.

“Did you want something to drink, or eat?” I offer, thinking about how he must be starving. It’s almost midnight.

“No, no” he declines politely “I’ll just go listen to the radio, leave you be, just shout if you need anything”

“Michael” I shake my head “You’re here looking after me, neither of us are gonna sleep, let me at least keep you company”

His eyes light up a little, as he nods.

Making our way to the lounge room, we both settle into the couch. Of course, he picks one side and I pick the opposite. Quite a stark comparison to the days when we used to fall asleep on this couch together. Read together. Make love together on the goddamn thing when we couldn’t wait to get to the bedroom.

I want to speak to him. But I can’t. Not for lack of words to say, but for the fact that there are way to many to even know where to begin. I can’t ask him about the weather. About work. Maybe we can’t talk about what went wrong, what happened when he left for America, but we would be fools if we tried to make meaningless small talk.

Because as I sit across from him, both of us just watching one another, I can’t stop myself from flashing back to all the things we did in this apartment. Dancing around the dining table to the radio. Cooking in the kitchen which always ended up in kissing instead. Fighting sometimes. Before making up in my bedroom. Reading the paper and drinking coffee. Crying together. Laughing together. This apartment is like a time capsule. If you listen close enough, you can almost hear echoes of us and how we used to be. Like our ghosts are still here, and still in love. Now we’re just two strangers.

So silence it is.

I wonder what he’s thinking too. When he looks at me. Does he see me now, or the old girl he used to love? Does he see me as the girl whose heart he broke? Am I the one that got away?

“How you feeling?” He asks. Maybe he mis took the look on my face for physical pain, and not emotional. But the pain my body is feeling is nothing compared to the aching in my chest coming straight from my heart.

“Ten out of ten” I retort sarcastically, earning a concerned frown from him.

“Izzy, I’m serious”

“I’m okay” I promise him “It’s not that bad anymore”

“Okay because if any thing changes I’ll call the doctor right away, you just say” his voice is dripping with stress.

“Michael, I’m fine”

“Okay, okay!” He throws his hands up, accepting defeat. I little smirk falls over his face as I watch an idea pop into his head.

“Do you know what day of the week it is?” He asks with a light chuckle.

“Are you serious?” I laugh, throwing my head back.

“Appease me” he grins.

In all our laughter we seem to have moved closer together on the lounge, and now we’re practically right next to each other. Both of us are laughing. Not even because anything is that funny, but we’re both delirious. Exhausted. Stressed. Overwhelmed. As I watch him chuckle, it occurs to me that this is the first time we have been like this together in a very, very long time. And it feels nice. Too nice. It feels safe. Comfortable. It feels like exactly how its supposed to be. Me and him laughing in my apartment.

“Saturday” I appease him, finally giving in as I looking over at the calendar “Saturday the 15th of May”

The second the words leave my mouth I feel my heart lurch. His head shoots over towards the calendar, to confirm what I just said. I watch as his heart drops too.

The 15th of May.

Today is supposed to be our goddamn anniversary.

Fuck. I hadn’t even had time to check the calendar or realise what today is between all the chaos.

Today is 5 years since we first met. And look at where we are. Broken up. Michael is married to another woman. I’m dating another man. We barely speak. I barely know who he even is anymore. We are virtual strangers.

“Michael” is the only thing I manage to squeak out, wide eyed and breathing anxiously.

He stares back at me, swallowing hard like he’s about to do something that he can’t hold himself back from anymore.

When he lunges forward, closing in the space between us, it feels like breaking through a force field that has been holding us back for so long. Like the universe and all its gravity finally gave way, the tension snapping like a rope. But when his lips collide with mine, that is the final snap. Something in the entire room shifts. It suddenly feels like my whole life has been moving in slow motion, like I’ve been sleep walking, and the second I feel his lips on mine I’m brought back to life.

Like every single moment up until this one has been black and white. Silent. Like the moment right before two stars collide and everything goes still. But once they finally meet, everything is in ultraviolet. Bursting into the atmosphere with an explosion that blinds you. Everything feels electric. So much so that it almost hurts. I hadn’t realised how badly my lips craved his until now. It steals my breath, whisking it so far away I don’t think I’ll ever get it back again.

He hands are on my face and in my hair, holding me firmly like he can’t control himself. Now that the flood gates have opened, and every inch of emotion in his body is pouring out, he can’t close them again. And either can I. I kiss him back, pushing my lips against his as my hands desperately find their way to his face. Michael and I have been at a grid lock. Stuck in tandem, free falling forever since he returned. Un able to figure each other out. But right now, we don’t even have to try. Our bodies to the work. They know exactly what to do like no time has passed at all.

My lips follow his rhythm perfectly, even though his kisses are rough and desperate. I don’t know if it’s the pounding of my own heart or his that I can hear as we cling to each other. Grabbing onto whatever clothing and body parts we can to bring ourselves as suffocatingly close as possible.

His hands travel from my face, gliding down my sides until they find their place, gripping and pulling at my waist. The way his fingers dig into my skin just rough enough but not enough to hurt me causes moans to tumble out of my mouth. I feel him hum against my lips as his own inability to swallow his own moans takes over.

I don’t think about anything but this taste. The way his tongue dances with mine. I’m so caught up in every inch of him. I have been starved of him for what feels like a life time. Our kiss never breaks, his lips continuing to ravage mine. I almost feel drunk. Intoxicated by his smell, he feel, his touch, his taste. I’m complete liquid in his hands. Every thing else fades away. I just want to be his. In his arms.

Each kiss is more desperate than the last, his body pressed up and pushing against mine until he accidentally presses me roughly against the arm of the couch. My breath hitches as a jolt of pain shoots through my already tender back. As I inhale harshly, our kiss breaks, our lips finally tearing away from each others. It also tears us out of our moment and back into reality.

As the pain in my back subsides quickly, it doesn’t take long for me to realise what we’ve just done. We quickly pull back from one another, almost scrambling away as shock shoots both of our eyes wide open. I clamp my hand over my mouth as we both pant, trying to catch our breaths and comprehend what the hell just happened.

Oh my god what did we just do.

Michael’s chest rises and falls heavily, as does mine, and I can hear my heart pounding in my ears.

“Oh my god” I whisper as we slide even further away from each other until we are on opposite ends of the couch.

It must dawn on him what has just happened all at once as his head falls in his hands, complete despair cloaking him.

“We can’t… we can’t do this” I stutter, shaking my head frantically. I quickly pull myself up from the lounge backing away from him until I’m virtually on the other side of the room. I feel sick.

Michael is married. I have Charlie. We can’t…

“Fuck” he curses loudly, running his hands through his hair as he tries to pull himself together. Standing up from the lounge he paces back and forth.

He just cheated on his wife. I just cheated on my boyfriend.

He stops pacing, and we stand across the room from each other, still trying to wrap our brains around if that actually happened.

“I’m so sorry” he shudders, his chest heaving. I can see the tears welling in his eyes from here, and it automatically triggers the same response in me.

I want to run over to him. I kiss him again. Feel his hands on me again. Our bodies intertwined. But we can’t do it. We are not those people anymore.

“You have to go” I tell him in a voice that is barely louder than a whisper. And that’s when the tears start. Spilling over onto my cheeks and dripping down off my chin.

Seeing me break down, he tries to rush over to me. To comfort me. That’s his automatic reaction to seeing my distressed. But he catches himself, pausing in his tracks. We both know what will happen if he comes over here. I can’t control myself. And either can he. We will only end up in my bed down the hall way, making an even bigger mess. He takes a shaky step away from me.

“You have to go home Michael” I beg him to stay back “Please”

“I’m so sorry Izzy” his voice cracks, breaking in two just like my heart. And from what I can see by the look on his face and the tears tumbling down his cheeks, his heart has broken into two as well.

And in the blink of an eye he hurries out the door, and he’s gone.

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iamcaledonia · 3 years

Text

Boxing Day

So, I was idly imagining what Arthur and Merlin might get up to on a quiet Boxing Day. With all of their crazy Christmas events over with, they'd have the whole day to themselves. Anyway, this is just something silly and I hope it makes you smile

Slightly NSFW.

:::::

"Stop it!" Merlin laughed, his chest rumbling. Knowing Merlin was only half serious, Arthur ignored him, biting gently.

:::::

Arthur ran his tongue lazily up the back of Merlin’s thigh, his fingers gently massaging the soft skin at the base of Merlin's spine. Merlin was propped up on his elbows, mobile phone in hand.

"Arthur!" Merlin breathed, looking over his shoulder at Arthur, sweetly perturbed, "You know yourself that if I don't text her back she'll end up phoning me!"

Arthur loved his mother-in-law, but he knew that Merlin was telling the truth. She was prone to worry, and not afraid to go totally over the top if she believed either Arthur or Merlin was in any danger. Still, he wanted Merlin to himself, so he inched further down the bed and nipped at the backs of Merlin’s knees. Merlin uttered a pleased groan and dropped his head to the mattress, arms still upraised, phone in hand.

As Merlin struggled to complete and send the text message, Arthur bit Merlin’s heel, his hands fastened around Merlin’s thighs. He knew he was being a complete devil, but would anyone blame him? The run-up to Christmas had been insanely busy, and their family gatherings the day before had worn them both out completely. Now that it was Boxing Day, Arthur was making up for lost time.

Finally, Merlin put the phone down. He flipped gently over onto his back and reached down, pulling Arthur up to lie beside him, Arthur taking his time and kissing each inch on they way there.

Merlin purred contentedly as Arthur settled beside him, his fingers playing lazily with Arthur’s chest hair.

"What did she want?" Arthur asked, capturing one of Merlin's earlobes between his teeth.

"Just checking we weren't too hungover," Merlin whispered, arching his neck beautifully. For a few moments Arthur was too distracted by his husband's body to form coherent thoughts, the room filled with sighs and small moans rather than conversation.

"You told her we were having a lazy day?" Arthur managed, eventually.

"Mmm-hmm," Merlin exhaled, turning onto his side and draping a leg over Arthur’s thighs. Arthur’s hands busied themselves with coaxing pleasurable sounds from his husband, Merlin's head thrown back, his eyelashes fluttering.

"Spending the day in our pyjamas in front of the telly?"

"Mmm-hmm."

Arthur turned onto his side as well, catching sight of their brand-new festive PJs in a heap by the bedroom door. He and Merlin’s legs curled together as they moved and settled, their bodies comfortable after years of this dance. Merlin mouthed at Arthur’s shoulder, his warm tongue dampening Arthur’s skin before Merlin pulled away, blowing gently.

"I told her we'd probably be dozing all afternoon, and not to be surprised if neither of us answered her texts right away," Merlin looked up at Arthur, his beautifully blue eyes sparkling mischievously.

"Oh, did you now?" Arthur smiled crookedly then placed a line of small kisses against the bottom of his husband's stubbled jaw.

Merlin pressed his lips against Arthur’s ear and whispered very quietly, "then I turned my phone off."

He pulled back and levelled at look at Arthur that still made Arthur’s knees weak, even after all the years they'd been together.

"Oh, did you now?" Arthur repeated. Merlin nodded, feigning a coy look. Arthur smiled playfully and flopped onto his back, wriggling back into the mattress as though trying to get comfortable. "Thats good, I could use a nap, as well."

Merlin laughed and floofed his pillow gently into Arthur’s smirking face before climbing over to sit astride him. Arthur gripped Merlin’s hips, his thumbs stretched to rub against the skin below Merlin's belly button. Merlin leaned down and kissed him, his hands gentle at the side of Arthur’s face. He looked beautiful and serene, but there was a familiar playfulness in his eyes that made Arthur almost breathless with anticipation.

It was Boxing Day, after all. They had nothing whatsoever planned for the rest of the entire day, and many, many things to do, indeed, with all of that delicious free time.

#merthur #fiction #fan fiction #minific #merlin x arthur #i made this #i am caledonia #sorry for typos #i wrote this on my phone

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elysiashelby · 4 years

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In Another World - T. Shelby Imagine Ch. 4

Paring: (Eventual) Thomas Shelby x Aliena Welsh (OC)

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Word Count: 5, 257

WARNINGS: Angst, Cursing, Explicit Attempted R*pe Scene, Descriptive Murder Scene, Recollection of Past Molestation

Summary: Aliena Welsh has been living in the universe of the show Peaky Blinders for 8 months now. She feels like family more now than ever since she has a role for everyone in the family. But as she delivers the Shelby Brothers’ their food at the Garrison, trouble brews. She will commit something that will never go away for the rest of her life.

MASTERLIST CHAPTER 3.3 CHAPTER FIVE

A/N: HI! If you skipped to this chapter, that’s completely fine! I tried including the most important parts that took place in the extras.

READ THE WARNINGS! THE 1ST LINE BREAK IN THIS CHAP MEANS THE SCENE IS STARTING!! LOOK FOR THE 2ND IF YOU WANT TO SKIP THE SCENE!!

THANKS FOR READING!

It's been two months since the incident happened. Meaning I have been with the Shelby family for eight months in total. I did not get over it the night after, it took a week.

Instead of getting over it the next day, I had tried drowning myself in work but they didn't let me, which led to me breaking down. It was embarrassing. Another bath was drawn for me and on that night, I had smoked my first cigarette. It made me both calm and riddled with anxiety. So, I haven't touched one since.

I call Thomas, Tommy now. It happened after the incident. It was like I was a part of the family, in a way. I mean I hope I was considered family. After all, I do cater to every emotional need in the family. I act motherly/older sister-like to the children including Finn, a younger sister to Ada, a daughter to Polly, and I'm a coping mechanism to the rest of the boys. The nights that I'm not soothing Arthur, I'm with Tommy. John is pretty alright. To be frank, he has a tighter grip on demons than his brothers. However, I believe that's only because he doesn't want his kids to ever find out, or he has his different outlets that I don't know about.

It has been really nice to sleep beside someone. By someone, I mean Tommy. You see, we had this agreement that I would just talk his ear off throughout the night, and he wouldn't use his opium pipe anymore. Now, I know he doesn't see me that way, but c'mon! He's just so fit! I honestly don't know if he's aware that I got a crush on 'em, but I just hope he's kept it to himself. I was never one for subtly in any of my pursuits. I always had a habit of staring.

As I was sweeping away all the dirt in the house, I got incredibly bored. Since it was only Finn around, hopefully, doing his homework that I gave 'em! I began to sing.

"Bitch, don't steal my man. He's got a weakness for girls like you. We both know you can. But I really need him more than you."

It was so liberating to be able to comfortably sing. I started to get more into it.

"You're a supermodel, shaped just like a bottle…" I held on to the broom, but made an outline of an hourglass figure with me free hand.

"He could run his fingers through your hair." I raised my hands, ran my fingers through my hair, and jerked it behind my shoulders.

"I bet you're a good time girl. But don't you know he's mine though?" I danced around my broom and then pointed to meself on the last lyric.

"I was running around for a minute. Now he's the only one who can get it." I sang while smacking me hip lightly, trying not to make any other unnecessary noise.

"So bitch, don't steal my man. He's got a weakness for girls like you. We both know you can. But I really need him more than you." While singing, I put on a sad expression. It was more like a childish pout.

"Maybe I can fake it. Fake it 'til you make it." At this point, I had me eyes closed and was zoned in on singing. I started to dance slowly.

"I can't promise, I'll be cordial. Got a mouth just like a trucker." Oddly enough, I started to sink down till I was crouching, but me knees were touching. I was also patting parts of me body as I went down.

‘I really can't describe movements to save my life!’

"I can't even be a lady. Out in public for my mother, motherfucker." On the last lyric, I immediately stood up. I turned around, opened me eyes for a split second, and grasped the broom again.

With me eyes now closed, I continued. "But bitch, don't steal my man. He's got a weakness for girls like you. We both know you can. But I really need him more than you." I put on the same sad expression to really feel the song.

With the broom hugged against me body, I began to sway with it. "I won't blame him if he leaves me for you, oh."

Me swaying came to a halt. "I won't even blame him if one day he runs off with you." I felt me own heart break for me imaginary lover's affair. Me voice came out softer than I expected.

I didn't like that so I tried singing the next lyrics with a more happy tone. "Bitch, don't steal my man. He's got a weakness for girls like you. We both know you can. But I really need him more than you." I danced around the broom with more energy. I felt the sway of me dress with each turn.

"Yeah. Oh, oh-oh. Oh, oh, oh. Don't steal my man. Bitch, don't steal my man. Don't steal my man." As I sang out the last of the lyrics, I stood still and opened me eyes.

I expected silence, maybe even just Finn peaking in but it was worse. I was met with thunderous applause from the Shelby brothers, even Tommy.

John hooted and whistled while clapping. "Whoo! We got ourselves an exclusive singer!"

"You're fucking right, John-boy! We 'ave our very own songbird." Arthur shouted.

Tommy just had this smug smile on his face.

I cringed at their "compliments''. I cringed very harshly from their comments! The worst part is that I can't tell if they're being sincere or not! "Piss off! Why didn't youse say anything? I'll make yez your scran then do one." I balanced the broom on the wall and shoved meself past them into the kitchen. All three of them started to fucking giggle.

"Don't tell me you got so flustered that we brought out your scouser! Eh, Ali!" Tommy shouted.

I sucked on me teeth. A habit I picked up from Tommy. I adopted it before I came here, though. It was actually a tick from Cillian, but he did it so many times as Tommy in the show, and well the real Tommy actually does it a lot. So, there was no getting rid of it!

‘I don’t why Tommy is acting so smug as if I don’t ‘ave to sing ‘em sad songs every night just so he can fuckin’ fall asleep. The bastard!’

"Shut up! Now, are youse gonna eat leftovers or am I making sandwiches?" I reached for plates that were in the cupboards and put them on the counter.

"We'll have the leftovers, Ali." Tommy replied.

I walked over to the icebox and took it out.

After they finished with eating and teasing, I had to finish cleaning up. It was especially difficult today because I decided to do a musical fucking number and Finn managed to work up the courage to ask me for help on his homework.

By then, I was working on dinner with Polly. I did the peeling and chopping of the potatoes and carrots. She was making soup. We were debating about who Ada had been sneaking off with at night. I knew it was Freddie Thorne, but I was not going to be a snitch. Besides, she’s been using me as a scapegoat and I’m fine with her racking up her “I.O.U’s.”

The phone went off which Polly answered. I heard bits of it, but I was really trying hard not to be geggin' in.

Polly sighed before saying, "Tommy rang said that they'll be eating at the Garrison. Go and take it to them, yeah?"

I nodded in response. I got up and put our bowls into the sink.

"Don't worry about the dishes tonight. I'll do those. Just give this to them and you'll be down for the night."

I got me basket and put in three bowls and spoons. I lowered it ‘till it rested in the crook of me elbow, and then carried the pot of soup using both of me hands. Polly got the door. We said our goodbyes and I began me journey.

As I was walking, men tipped their hats to me or bid me goodnight. It was strange to me for months in the beginning, but I've gotten quite used to it. It happens anytime I'm out and abar.

As I got closer to the pub, I noticed these three young lads leaning against a wall outside. I wasn't sure at first but as I drew nearer to the door, their heads followed me. The middle one must have known the jig was up ‘cause he actually had the nerve to whistle at me. Like a dog.

It stopped me in me tracks. I've never been treated this way in me whole life. After I became the Shelby family's maid, Tommy made it clear that nobody could touch me. I was off limits. Everyone in Birmingham knew that. But that didn't stop this cheeky lad who kept catcalling me and inching closer. I shook me head and then continued on.

A man who was walking out greeted me, saw I was holding a pot, then held open the door for me to walk in, and even opened the second door. I thanked him. I walked over and knocked on the door to the snug. Arthur opened it after like five minutes of me waiting.

"Here's your dinner. I'm off." I said while placing both the pot and the basket down.

"Oh c'mon, Ali. Stay 'n 'ave a laugh with us!" John shouted as he passed out the plates and spoons to his brothers.

I shook me head with a smile on me face. His loud behavior made me want to laugh. But there was this sense of anxiety that washed over me.

'Maybe I should stay.' I thought.

Me nerves were unsettled by the lads who were outside. I didn't want to know if they were waiting on me to come back outside.

‘I would be safer in here.’

I stroked the edge of the table and took notice of its coldness.

'Maybe I was just being paranoid. I should just go home. I would just ruin their fun.'

"Aliena, are you alright?" Tommy asked. His eyebrows furrowed in worry.

I smiled. It was, secretly, a sad smile. "Yeah, just grand. I'mma head on home. See youse tomorrow. Night!"

They all shouted back the same and I left. I kept the image of Tommy in me mind as I walked out of the pub. The cold air was nice against me hot face. But it didn't stop me from seeking warmth. I crossed my arms over me chest and hid me hands with me arms.

"Oi! Pretty lady! Wanna have a good time with us?"

"Yeah, come on! Show us a good time."

"You know, we're not from here."

I knew they were trying to close the gap between us. I tried walking faster.

I could hear the pounding of their footsteps before I could react. Suddenly, there was a tight grip on me forearm and he yanked me toward himself. I gasped in surprise.

"Come on, love. We came all the way from London to this shit city. Staying at this shitty hostel called… Something with Betty in it. So, how 'bout you fucking show me and my mates a good fucking time?" He squeezed me face in his hands.

Me breathing quickened and heart was caught in me throat.

"Le-Let me go! Fuck off!" I screamed.

I managed to tear his hand off me face and I kicked his knee. He groaned in pain while doubling over to support it. I started to run, but I didn't manage to get very far. One of the others caught up to me. He caught me arms, swung me 'round, and slapped me across the face.

Me ear rang and I felt a lot of pain. "Let me go! Stop it! Help me! Somebody help me!" I yelled as I tried putting me feet down, but he just kept dragging me.

Nobody was helping me.

'I'm scared. I don't wanna be raped!' I kept chanting over and over.

Eventually, the guy tugged me into his arms and shoved me into an alleyway. I groaned on impact. Me stockings ripped and me hands skidded on the cement. I raced to get back up, but the man that threw me, bunched up the collar of me coat and threw me against the wall. I yelped and started seeing stars. Pain exploded throughout me head. But even then I knew he was taking off me coat.

I heaved out a breath. He took that chance to shove his tongue in me mouth. It was so revolting. He tasted of booze, ciggies, and pure bad breath. I bit down on his tongue. He cried out in pain. He held his mouth. His grip was still tight on me collar. I tried running the other way since his friends were blocking the entrance of the alleyway, but he tugged me back and punched me.

Now, that fucking hurt. I froze instantly. The pain was too much. I started sobbing.

"Shut up!" He demanded.

I didn't listen. So, I got a knee to the stomach. I grunted in pain and doubled over. He didn't let me soothe meself as he yanked me back up and started to attack me neck.

I heard and felt as he ripped me dress open. I tried harder to push against his torso. I tried pushing him off of me. He ripped me bra and I felt his tongue roam me chest. I cried out. I was disgusted. Me stomach was churning. I reached up and yanked him by his hair.

He shouted in pain and punched me in me ribs. I groaned.

From the corner of my eye, I could see his two friends just staring at us. They were enjoying watching me struggle. They were smoking and sharing a bevvy. They were smiling at the sight of me, they were laughing at me!

He didn't stop there. He grabbed me by me arms and threw me against the wall multiple times. I tried sticking out me neck forward. It was an attempt to protect me head and it worked… a little. I was completely out of it by the time he stopped doing it.

I could feel yet I was also numb to it. It was like the incident all over again. I still thrashed me arms around, but it was so weak. I was so beaten. Me body was not used to this. It wanted to shut down. I knew it did. But then me fingers grazed something on his upper torso. Me breath hitched.

It knew this spot to be special. Tommy had a special spot here too. It was a gun holster. I felt me attacker raise me left leg and push my panties aside.

After that it was such a blur. It all happened so fast.

I took the gun out of its holster, pressed it into his torso, cocked it, and pulled the trigger. The shot rang through me ears. All I heard was white noise after that.

I held onto the back of his neck, supporting his weight by leaning him on me body, looked to my right and saw that his friends had run off. It was then that I heard his choking gasps. I felt nothing. I pushed his body off of me and cocked the gun again. His fingers started to outline his bullet wound. He stared up at me in shock.

He held his hands up, begging for his life. I looked down and stared at his leg. I aimed and fired. He screamed in agony. I cocked the gun. I aimed at his shoulder and fired. Another scream ripped from his throat.

At that moment, I felt me mouth twitch upward. I felt meself smirk. Me eyes widened like a madman. I felt powerful. I walked closer to him and stood over his body. Slowly, I cocked the gun. He whimpered and put his hands up slowly. Hands covered in his own blood. I relished the terror in his eyes.

I felt the smile expand on me face and I aimed for the middle of his forehead. I exhaled sharply before closing me mouth up. The action caused me to giggle uncontrollably. He sobbed louder but also somewhat slurred. He was dying. I knew that and he knew that.

So, I withdrew the gun and took a small stumbling step back. I contorted me face in fear— it was all an act, and watched as he put his guard down. I stayed like that for about a minute before I couldn't manage to hide me smile anymore even while biting me lip. In a flash, his face lit back up in terror and that's when I took a step forward and pulled the trigger. The smile fell from me face. His hot blood had splattered all over me face, blowback I heard it was called.

"Oi!" A man shouted.

I looked up to see no one that I would know. However, the man was wearing a peaked cap and was accompanied by three others. All guns were raised and pointed at me.

They inched closer to me and I took a real stumbling step back.

One man gasped. "That's Aliena Welsh. Mr. Shelby's maid!"

They put down their guns and rushed to me. I just stood there. Then, I looked down and stared at the gun. Me hands were trembling like leaves, but it was all an act. One of the Peaky men held out his hand toward me, I flinched and he stopped.

"Miss, let's get you home. We'll take care of 'em. Come now, dear." He gestured to the gun and reluctantly I gave it to him. Another man gave me his coat. I wrapped myself around it.

"Come, Miss." He waved me to follow him.

I looked back and watched as the other men started to deal with the body. One man hauled him up by his armpits while another picked him up by his legs.

Almost in a trance, I said. "No. I'm going home by meself. Go 'n tell, Tommy, what’s happened."

Then, I rushed past him. At first, I was speed walking and then I was running. I was running with one hand holding onto me torn dress. The man’s coat had flown off of me shoulders. I was basically just covering me chest. Me stomach was on full display, though.

But, of course, me suffering would not end. Me heel got caught and I tripped. I caught meself but it made me pre-existing wounds hurt even more. I sat there in the middle of the sidewalk. Panting for breath. Me lungs, no, not just me lungs. Everything hurt. Especially, me head.

'I'm finished,’ I thought, ‘I can never go back now. I can’t go back to my family after I’ve killed someone. I-I can never be saved by any higher power, or have salvation for my soul. I... I killed him.’

I started to laugh, maniacally. I just giggled and laughed. Until they turned into blood curdling screams. Once I lost breath, I desperately inhaled and then sprang myself up. I continued running until I got home. With the door in sight, I started to sob. The worst part of it was that I wasn't crying because of what happened. It was because I knew I needed to look distraught. I knew deep down that I had absolutely no regrets pulling that trigger.

I probably even liked it.

I started banging on the door. I could hear Polly yell for me to stop. I didn't. Not until she ripped open the door. I saw as her gaze contorted from angry to something else, maybe astonishment. She brought her hands to her mouth. Her eyes watered which made me look away.

"Oh my god." She whispered. Polly sounded so choked up. Her sadness seeped into her words.

Her hands slowly reached out to me. They were shaking so much. And I broke. I started to cry, sob, wail.

"Polly! Polly… " I repeated her name over and over. She drew me into a hug and helped me inside. I hid me face in the crook of her neck.

"Sh! It's alright, love. I have you now. Ada! You're safe now. ADA, GET DOWN HERE THE FUCK NOW!"

I knew she was leading me into the living room. She helped me sit down and she never stopped stroking me hair.

Before Ada could ask any questions, Polly told her to bring the tub in and to draw me a bath with hot water. I was still crying. I sounded awful.

"Pol, what's happened?" Ada asked as she poured the hot water into the tub.

"I don't know! Just focus on what I've told you to do! Ali, love, I'm goin' to be right back. You need ice for your face." She kissed the temple of me forehead and then unwrapped me from her.

I looked at her empty spot with hollow eyes. Then, I trailed over to Ada. Her mouth hanging open slightly.

I gulped. Me mouth was completely dry. The tub was full. I stood up slowly. I didn't even realize it would hurt. Hell, I didn't even realize that there was blowback on me breasts and neck, not just me face. I slipped a finger under the strap of me bra and carefully slipped both it and me dress off of me body.

As I went to take off me panties, I suddenly remember I had thigh high stockings. I closed me eyes shut and sat back down. A wince left me mouth. I kicked off me heels, reached down, and tugged them off with very strained effort. When I stood back up, heels clicked on the floor meaning Polly was back. I slid off me panties and then entered the tub.

Ada tried to protest but it was too late. I had already submerged me body in the scathing hot water. It burned and yes, and Polly yelled at me for it. But then I got used to it and she was holding the makeshift ice pack against the left of me face where the bastard struck me the most. Ada, with a towel in hand, was scrubbing the blood off of me body. She was being so delicate with me.

That was when the door flew open and in came the Shelby brothers. The sound of the door banging on the wall made me cringe. I closed me eyes at the sound. Just as I was tipping me head back, me face was grasped and inspected.

"Who did this? What the fuck happened!" Tommy shouted.

"Stop your fucking shouting! She hasn't said a word… Aliena, love. Can you tell us what happened?" Polly asked.

Languidly, I opened me eyes. Tommy's eyes were blown wide. And, I could finally read his face. He was angry and worried. I looked behind 'em and saw John and Arthur were doing no better. Arthur was raising a fist to his mouth repeatedly before striking the couch. John was pacing back and forth while sniffing a lot. Ada was crying beside me. She took her hand in mine.

I felt loved. I felt safe.

I exhaled loudly with me cheeks puffed. I made a kind of "oo" noise like when women give birth. I swallowed a sob and began to speak.

"There was these three fuckers outside the Garrison. They were eyeing me real hard before I went in. I thought I saw wrong because well, no one in the city disrespects me. Ha!" I looked away from Tommy as I ran me tongue over the inside of me cheek. "When I went back out, they had already gotten like closer. They were catcalling me. Saying things like I should show them a good time. That I owed it to them since they were from out of town." I scoffed and looked down at me chest.

Me bare chest. It was still covered in blood. Me face contorted. I was filthy. I had a disgusting man's blood on me body. I raised me hands and started rubbing on me skin. It had dried somewhat. It wasn't coming off! I started to hyperventilate and scratch at me skin.

"Eh, stop that, Ali! Eh! Aliena, stop that!" Tommy took my hands from me neck and into his. Me eyes widened and I could feel me head twitching to the right.

His thumb made small strokes up and down me hand and I started to calm down.

"One of them ran to me when I started speeding up. He grabbed me and I screamed for help. I tried fighting. Kicked his knee and ran for it. But another one caught up to me, swung me 'round, and slapped me. I kept screaming for help, but nobody was… " I took a deep breath. "They threw me in an alley and then against the wall. I kept on fighting. The guy who was gonna… Well, he was wearing a gun. So, I… I-!"

I shook me head, violently. "I shot 'em, Tommy. I took his gun and shot 'em. His mates ran off. And yeah…" I slipped me hands out of his grasp and finally allowed me head to tilt down as I rested me eyes.

I muttered. "Me virtue lives to fight another day." I snickered, mirthlessly.

I felt rather than saw Tommy's explosive response. He slammed his hands against the tub while screaming, "Fuck!"

Polly and Ada both gasped.

"Did they tell you anything else, love? Like where they were planning on taking you? Or where they came from?" Polly asked, always quick to regain composure.

I nodded. "Said they'd come from London. Staying at Betty's. I think that meant that lodging place that's run by that… "

"Semi-retired prostitute." Tommy finished. "Right. John, Arthur! Let's go!"

Polly didn't even try stopping them. The door closed with the same bang. I started to cry again and this time I had two women soothing me.

They cleaned the blood off of me. They washed it off of me body and hair. They put me in a nightgown and Polly brushed out me hair. Afterward, Polly sent Ada up to bed and we cuddled on the couch.

I cleared me throat. "This isn't the first time. Not even when Tommy brought me home that day two months ago. No. The first time it happened was when I was 13 or 14. Me ma’ let me have a bevvy for the first time. It was Thanksgiving 'n all. I got so bevied up that me sis offered me to sleep in her room. I wanted to see the baby, so everyone went along with it. You see, I was supposed to sleep at the end of the bed while she was supposed to sleep next to her husband. It didn't end up like that. I slept next to 'em with the baby in the middle of us, and my sister was at the bottom.

It was fine 'til I woke up and he was fondling me. He was playing with me breasts and kept running his hand up and down me thigh. I fucking froze, Pol. I froze for so long. But I managed to get away. I went running to me room. I told me ma’ in the morning and she told me sis. They didn't believe me. Me ma’ wanted her granddaughter to grow up with both parents, so she hid it from me da’. Me sis just thought I was lying for attention. I had to be in the same house with 'em for so fucking long!"

Polly sucked on her teeth and held me closer to her. She held me so tight that I could hardly breathe. Tears escaped me eyes but me face wasn't contorted.

I was so tired.

As the night went on, Polly eventually walked me to bed. She tucked me in like I was a child. She kissed me forehead before walking out. Once I hit the bed, all fatigue washed away. I was left with me own thoughts. I couldn't fall asleep now.

I brought fingers to me face and lightly pressed on the outside of me bruises. I hissed in pain and withdrew me hand.

'I don't wanna see me face.' I thought.

But because I acknowledged it, I wanted to do it. I slowly got up from the bed and walked over to the mirror. Me left cheek and eye were both bruised. It wasn't absolutely horrible, but I've never seen me face like this before.

I huffed as I dropped me hand from me face. I opened the palm of me hand and traced the outline of me scrapes. They burned like a bitch when I was in the bath. I slowly crouched down and did the same to the scrapes on my knees. But as I did so, pain shot up throughout me body because I neglected the bruises on me stomach and ribs.

I was littered with fucking bruises.

I sighed, running a hand through me hair as I tilted me head back. I pinched the bridge of me nose. I was brought out of me trance when three soft knocks rang through the room. I jumped at the sudden sound.

"Ye-Yes?"

The door opened and it was Tommy. He had dressed down. He was in his pajamas. A white long sleeve shirt and pants. I never asked if they were his work pants, but they were eerily similar.

He cleared his throat and flicked his nose. "It's done. We found 'em and dealt with them."

I let out a loud breath of relief. They were dead. I wouldn't have to worry about them at all. Unlike in me original world where I couldn't sleep because I feared he'd come for me and me family.

I ran me hand through me hair, and bunched it at the front. I looked up at Tommy. "Thank you." I whispered.

With his hands now in his pockets, he nodded.

I knew what I was doing. I knew that I probably shouldn't ask, but I didn't want to be alone tonight. I ran to him and hugged him. He returned it, hesitantly. He soon rested his chin on me head.

I felt him kiss me head and he whispered. "Sleep with me tonight, eh? You shouldn't be alone tonight."

I nodded with me head still buried in his chest. Slowly, he guided me to his room. I climbed into his bed and he did after me. I faced the wall and allowed his arm to be me pillow. I gathered me hair and put it all to the side where his arm laid.

I could hear his breathing and that's all it took for me to start drifting off. Me eyes fluttered open when I felt his fingers comb through me hair. He couldn't fully thread his fingers through me hair, but it was still soothing.

"You're safe now. You'll be okay." He whispered over and over.

His voice is something I always want to fall asleep to...

It didn't take me long to fall asleep at all. I was safe in the Shelby house, in Tommy's arms.

TAG LIST: @amirahiddleston @nemesis729

#thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby x oc #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby fanfic #thomas shelby angst #in another world #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby x oc #tommy shelby x reader

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gothamslittlejester · 4 years

Text

Arthur Fleck/Joker x reader (Being harassed by Ex)

Request: Hi! Are requests for headcanons/scenario still opened? Could I get one where reader's ex is harrasing her cause he doesn't wanna accept they broke up? He won't leave them alone and they started to be afraid of even leaving the house. Arthur notices something is wrong and ask her about it. What's his reaction when she finally breaks down in tears and tells him everything? Also is it possible to get the same thing for Joker as well? It's ok if not. Sorry for my long rant.

Sure thing hun! HC’s for both bois below 😊

Also I just wanted to say, thank you all so much for the supportive messages I got about my last post. It really hit me hard and reading all your messages helped me realize I wasn’t the one to blame (although at the time i saw myself as the one at fault). thank u from the bottom of my heart <3

Arthur

Sadly, the idea of a stranger coming into Arthur’s life to take you away from him is one that poisons his thoughts on a very regular basis. He could be having the best day of his life and out of nowhere, the voices in his head begin mocking and terrorizing him with images of a smarter, taller, handsomer man promising you a life better than Arthur could ever provide

During the day, it leaves him sickened with such intense anxiety that it almost always leads to a body shattering laughing fit.

At night it only doubles, the paranoia turns into something much worse; morphing from dread into a deep, deep sadness accumulated from all the pain he’s ever experienced in his miserable life. The sheer grief he feels during these nights is enough to leave him sobbing and shaking until morning

It has nothing to do with you, he promises, scared that you would ever think that he doesn’t trust you, or you’re not doing enough. You do so, so much for him, he could never repay you if he tried for a hundred years. With your encouragement, everyday he gets a tiny bit better at pushing these thoughts away. One day, he hopes to never hear them again

And for a while he doesn’t. Until he hears about your ex.

Arthur is very in tune with your feelings and emotions, so the second he sees you become panicky and refuse to leave the house without constantly looking over your shoulder, he suspects there’s a third party involved

He’ll get on his knees and beg you to let him know what’s going on, wiping away every tear he can catch, and kissing away the ones the slip past his fingers

Arthur knows what all about abuse and what it looks like, whether its verbal or physical, obvious or silently manipulative. The second you mention your ex coming back into your life and trying to interact with you, he just knows

Will spend hours comforting you and reminding you that you’re not responsible for the actions of your ex, and you don’t have to worry about him anymore. Besides, the next time your ex comes to your house, Arthur is already there, right by your side and ready to give your ex a piece of his mind

Although he completely envelopes you with support and the sweetest of love, there’s also a part of Arthur that’s so enraged, so furious at the nerve your ex has that it makes his vision red. He’d never show this side of him around you, but your ex just might get an exclusive preview

He’d charge straight up to you ex without a care in the world, hands clenched at his side and jaw set. He wasn’t used to being this confident, but now he had someone to protect, and he was going to defend you until his dying breath. Looking your ex dead in the eye, he’d threaten to beat his skull in with a carnival mallet if he didn’t leave Gotham this second. And If telling him to leave you alone doesn’t work, Arthur has a gun lying around that he’s been dying to use

Joker

Your ex really couldn’t have chosen a worse time to pop back in your life

You and Joker had finally relaxed into a domestic- dare you say normal- way of life, and despite some chaotic and crazy moments together, Joker’s fondness and protectiveness for you grows by the day. He’s very firm in his belief that he is yours and you are his, and not even God himself could take that away

Your adoring clown still has a few moments of intense jealousy that turn him into a pouting and possessive ass, but generally he’s never actually threatened by the people who show interest in his beloved S/O. Unless someone lays a hand on you or actually makes a move to take you away from him, Joker isn’t offended too much. Mildly inconvenienced? Sure. Extra possessive? Definitely. But to him, these men are just jealous of what he has, and that makes him smug as hell

If he was being honest, all the fans, attention and particularly having you by his side were beginning to get to his head. His ego began to grow by the day and you were the first to notice. You never really brought it up, but Joker was practically exuding confidence with every twitch and shrug of his shoulders. Although mildly annoying on the rare occasion, for the most part his new confidence made your knees weak and heart beat like crazy, which only made him cockier.

Joker thought of himself as invincible, a wolf among sheep, a king… so in his mind, obviously no-one would dare try to take what was his, especially not you. Right?

Unfortunately for him, he was wrong- very, very wrong

The second your ex comes back in your life, Joker knows something is up. He was the first to notice that someone had been lurking around your old home like a rabid dog, pacing and knocking at your door in desperation, oblivious to the conveniently placed security camera Joker had set up right near the entrance

Joker began immediately suspecting him, growling as the seconds ticked by and your ex continued to linger

Before he went straight up to this… this scumbag, Joker decided to inform you first before he accidentally shot up one of your family members or co-workers. He knew you’d never forgive for that

“Hi angel, there’s some loser pacing around your door, need me to take care of it”? He said with a smile playing on his lips, waiting for you to laugh in his face and tell you who the guy was. What he didn’t expect was for you to suddenly pale out and look at him like a dear caught in headlights, your eyes watering as they mercilessly revealed the terror griping your heart.

“Darling? Darling!” Joker yelled as he gripped your shoulders, slinking one of his arms around your waist in case you passed out on him and hit the floor.

“Baby…” he cooed and pressed his painted forehead against your own, coaxing you to look at him. “Tell me what’s wrong… tell me who that man is… tell me what to do, please.”

It took you a few minutes to calm down, but you do tell him- you tell him everything.

“I didn’t know he’d try to follow me back home, I thought he was out of my life, I’m so scared, I don’t know what to do.” You sob out as you clutch at Joker’s hands, unaware of the feral snarl deepening into Joker’s face

Your ex is dead. On sight. There’s no pleading or bargaining with Joker on this one. The sheer fury and pain he feels on your half brakes his spirit in half, and he promises to never let anyone hurt you like that again. Joker would kill for you, and he’s about to prove it to you.

#Arthur fleck x reader #joker x reader #joker headcannons #Arthur fleck headcannons #joker fic #Arthur fleck imagine #my writing

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artificialqueens · 4 years

Text

wild flower, chapter six (shalaska) 6/11 - freyja

A/N: To quote mags last chapter, “Oh no. She has a fever. There’s an infection. There’s an infection because I was stupid and let them lay on the ground.” In other words: I think we all know who to blame. She’s also responsible for the lack of inconsistencies in this chapter, as she caught them all like butterflies in a net, but we can’t lose focus here.

If the quote wasn’t enough, here’s the summary: Sharon has an infection. It brings up some unwanted memories for Alaska, and even worse: some unwanted feelings.

🌸 “There is only one road away from trouble, and this is along the straight and narrow road.” – Otto Wood 🌸

Alaska is nine again, and she has her ear pressed to her parents’ bedroom door, desperately trying to distinguish the muffled voices of the doctor and her father. Their deep voices sound the same, and she tries to hold her breath in order to hear them better, her pounding heartbeat hindrance enough.

She catches some words, but they don’t make any sense no matter what order she puts them into. The doctor, serious and droll, with his ‘look’s and ‘do’s. Her father, urgent and demanding, with his ‘best’s and ‘money’s.

She gets down on her hands and knees, finished with trying to hear through the wood the moment her father seems to become completely inaudible, and instead gets as close to the crack at the bottom as possible. The darkness of the hallway allows the warm light of candles to bleed through onto the hardwood, and Alaska turns her head to see underneath as well, staring at her father’s brown Oxfords and the doctor’s black Gladstone bag.

“There has to be something.” Her father. He sounds strange - wobbly, almost. But no less demanding.

“I’m afraid I don’t know what else to do,” the doctor sighs, sounding sad. “Her lungs will give out soon. I recommend you say your goodbyes while you still can. You have a daughter, correct?”

Alaska frowns, her breathing starting to pick up. They’re talking about her mother, but it doesn’t make sense. Her mother is strong - she’ll get through this. Her father thinks so too, and he’s never wrong. The doctor must be talking about someone else.

He has to be.

“Yes,” her father says, after a beat. His voice is rough. “She - I haven’t been letting her in here. Just in case.”

“Wise,” the doctor says, and his bag lifts into the air, revealing nondescript black shoes. “But she should see Lily. Before it’s too late.”

Alaska waits for her father to deny him.

“Of course,” her father says, and Alaska’s heart drops. There’s another long pause. “Of course. And there’s nothing you can do?”

“Mr. Thunder,” the doctor says. “We’ve been prolonging this for far too long. It’s time.”

A beat. “Then you can get out,” her father says, voice cold like it gets when she comes in with grass stains on her skirt.

“Arthur–”

“Get out.”

The doctor sighs, but he starts walking to the door, and Alaska only has enough time to scramble back a few feet before he’s opening the door and nearly tripping over her.

“What–?” he says, arms spread out for balance as he stumbles, and Alaska has to squint her eyes against the sudden onslaught of light.

She looks up at him, silent with fear. He stares back at her, his eyebrows shooting up briefly in realization before his face flattens into an expression Alaska can’t pinpoint.

“You must be the daughter,” he says, and Alaska’s father can be heard from within the room.

“What?”

“Your daughter,” the doctor clarifies as her father appears above his shoulder, looking down severely at Alaska. “She was listening.”

“Clearly,” he father says, anger just barely hidden under his tone. “Get up,” he snaps at Alaska, who scrambles to her feet as quickly as she can. “A lady doesn’t behave this way in front of guests.”

Alaska stares at the ground in shame, tears welling in her eyes. “Sorry,” she says quietly, and she jumps as a large hand lands on her shoulder.

“Be gentle on her,” the doctor says, his voice softened. “Her curiosity is understandable, given the circumstances.”

“Didn’t I tell you to get out?” her father snaps, and the doctor’s hand briefly clenches on her shoulder before he’s drawing away.

“Mr. Thunder,” he says courteously, and then he moves down the stairs without so much as another word. Alaska finds herself longing for his comforting hand again - it feels like she hasn’t been touched since her mother went into her room and didn’t come out.

“Alaska, look at me,” her father says as soon as the front door slams shut. Alaska obeys, albeit reluctantly, and her father’s expression is one she’s never seen before.

It’s sad, and softened because of it. It has Alaska letting out a sob before she can help it.

“Jesus,” her father whispers, and suddenly he’s kneeling in front of her, reaching out to awkwardly touch her shoulder. “I’m sorry for snapping.”

“What’s wrong with mommy?” Alaska sobs, and before she can think better of it, she’s stepping forwards and burrowing her face into her father’s shoulder. He tenses underneath her, but a hand comes to rest on her back, and it’s enough. “Isn’t she going to be okay?”

“She–” her father stops. “Would you like to see her?”

He doesn’t have to explain that it will be the last time, and Alaska nods into his shoulder, only crying harder.

“Alright,” he says, and then he stands. He doesn’t hold her hand as he leads her into the room, and Alaska feels bare, unsure, as they cross the threshold she hasn’t been allowed past for three months.

Three months of waiting for her mother to get better, and all for nothing.

She looks around the room, first - she takes in the pictures that hang on the walls, the patterned wallpaper that her mother had chosen earlier that year, the fresh flowers on the nightstand. Then, her eyes catch on the occupant of the enormous bed, and she bursts into a fresh round of tears.

Her mother hardly looks like herself.

She looks nearly dead, with her pallid skin and nearly colorless hair, the fever bright spots on her cheeks. Blood drips from several cuts on her arm, filling a small bowl on the bed, and a matching spot of blood stains the corner of her mouth. Her skin looks stretched, her cheekbones standing out far too much, and her breathing, already painfully slow, comes out in rattling wheezes.

When Alaska touches her hand, it’s far too warm.

“Mom?” she asks, and there’s no response. Her father’s hand lands on her shoulder, but it only seems to make things worse. “Mom?”

Another rattling wheeze.

The room feels suddenly too hot, and Alaska breaks out into a horrible sweat, staring at her mother’s face. It’s too stuffy, and Alaska feels like she can’t breathe either, the warm air filling her lungs and suffocating her until she–

Alaska wakes up sweating, gasping for air.

It takes her a moment to orient herself - she’s in Colorado, not New York, she’s in Sharon’s tent, not her mother’s sickroom, and it’s 1874, not 1859. More importantly, the air is cool here, and not a suffocating heat.

She’s still sweating, however, and it takes her another moment to realize that it’s because Sharon is plastered to her side, shivering, and burning hot.

It sends Alaska’s heart into overdrive.

“Sharon?” she asks worriedly, pulling away from the other woman as gently as she can. “Wake up. Sharon.”

No response.

“Fuck,” Alaska says, pushing her hair out of her face. She tries again, this time with a shout: “Sharon!”

There isn’t a response, and Alaska’s heart feels like it’s going to beat out of her chest, a lump of tears wedging itself in her throat. “Please,” she says, taking in Sharon’s flushed cheeks, her grey skin. Tears well up in her eyes and blur her vision. Thoughts of death and disease start to grow in her mind like a fungus, and she feels suddenly weak, shaking slightly.

She buries her face in her hands, sobbing. She feels hopeless, like Sharon’s already gone without one last chance to say goodbye, and she feels like giving up. She feels like curling into a ball and disappearing forever, like running out of the tent and into the woods until she can be alone for good. Somewhere she can live without loved ones that die and leave her anyway.

But what kind of existence is that?

The thought shocks clarity into her, its voice startlingly like Sharon’s. She takes one deep breath, the inhale shaky, and then another.

“Fucking hell,” she breathes out, and she reaches out to Sharon, and shakes her. “Sharon!”

All she gets is a flutter of the eyelids and a faint groan.

It’s enough to give her hope.

“Jesus,” she breathes out, and she stumbles to her feet, tripping slightly over her long skirt. Relief has her shaking again. She pushes her hair out of her face again, wiping her tears off of her face as she grabs her shawl from Sharon’s dresser.

She needs to get Katya. Now.

🌸

Alaska is not allowed back into the tent once Katya is inside.

It’s horribly reminiscent of her mother’s final hours, her nightmare coming back to haunt her now that her only distraction is how the embers glow in the fire pit, but Jinkx soon appears at her side, looking worried out of her mind and like she hasn’t slept all night.

Alaska is so grateful to see her.

“Is she going to be okay?” Jinkx asks worriedly, taking Alaska’s hand and squeezing it.

Alaska thinks briefly about jerking away, staring at their hands for a moment, but she knows Jinkx needs the physical comfort, and it isn’t hurting her. She squeezes back, and the solidity of Jinkx’s hand in hers is reassuring.

“I have no idea,” she says, turning her eyes back to the dying fire.

“How bad is she?” Jinkx asks. “How was she when you went to sleep? Did you hear anything? Did–”

“She wasn’t waking up,” Alaska interrupts, her own distress mounting as Jinkx talks out her own. “Her fever is so bad that she wasn’t waking up.” Her heart starts to pound again at the thought, and her mother’s sleeping face flashes through her mind like a bad omen.

“Jesus Christ,” Jinkx whispers, and Alaska feels like crying again.

“I need to go in,” she says, and she tries to wipe her tears away as subtly as she can manage. “I have to see her. But–” She cuts herself off, unable to speak anymore without sobbing.

“We need to let Katya do her work the way she needs to,” Jinkx says, after a moment.

“But what if that doesn’t work?” Alaska says, irritated by Jinkx’s attempt to reassure her. It feels like an argument, like she thinks Alaska doesn’t know what’s best. “I’m sitting out here because I know that. But what if it doesn’t work, and we never see her again? Don’t you care?” she snaps out, and Jinkx pulls her hand away.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Jinkx says, her voice thick, and Alaska stares into the fire, anger and regret bubbling in her chest. “She’s wanted dead or alive, right? What does it matter that she’s dead?”

“Fuck you,” Alaska says lowly, but guilt twists within her, nausea rising to the occasion. If she regrets anything she’s said since arriving in Colorado, it’s that. Sharon felt immortal just a day ago, despite her injury and because of her resilience to it, but now she’s staring at the fact that Sharon may not survive this.

Tears well up in her eyes, and she feels one fall as she finally looks at Jinkx. The other woman looks hurt, and worried, but it’s the anger there that makes the last of Alaska’s own go out. “I didn’t - Jinkx, I didn’t mean that. I didn’t think–”

“I know,” Jinkx says, her expression softening. “I shouldn’t have brought it up, not now, at least. I just - you said that Sharon might not–”

“My mother died like this,” Alaska says all in one breath. “Only we had a better doctor.”

“Don’t let Katya hear you,” Jinkx says, smiling slightly, but she touches Alaska’s arm. “I’m sorry.”

“She went into her room and never came out,” Alaska says, and then she takes another breath. “I never got to see her before she passed.”

There’s a certain comfort in knowing that she’ll never know if her mother had looked as bad as she does in her nightmares. Maybe she had died still beautiful, with dignity - at least as much as there is in disease. Maybe she had looked worse, and Alaska had been spared the pain.

Alaska had denied her father’s invitation to see her mother one last time, his warnings and the smell of antiseptic creating a fear so great within her that she had refused to even look into the room. Her father gave her an hour to change her mind. It didn’t matter - her mother passed thirty minutes later.

Alaska doesn’t want to make that mistake again.

“Sharon won’t–” Jinkx cuts herself off. “She’s going to be fine. She always is.”

Alaska gives her a weak smile, and she tries to find it in herself to believe her.

They sit in silence for another few minutes, the cool breeze making them shiver slightly as they both stare at the embers of the fire. The sound of the tent flap opening has them both shooting to their feet again, and Katya emerges, looking drawn and pale.

“I need some water from the creek,” she says, and she points at Jinkx. “Jinkx, you help me.”

“I can help too,” Alaska says, stepping forwards, and Katya holds up a hand, smiling slightly.

“I could use your arms as toothpicks. No, you get the fun job.”

Alaska frowns. “The fun job?”

“Sit with Sharon and make sure nothing happens. If something does, shout for us,” Katya walks past her to grab a pot and a metal bucket from next to the fire. She gives the bucket to Jinkx. “The water is to cool her down, and I can’t do much until that happens.”

Alaska moves to the tent without any other questions, only to hesitate right before pushing the flap aside. A strange fear pools in her stomach, shifting and irrational, and she can’t seem to bring herself to go in just yet.

What if Sharon is–

“What are you doing?” Katya snaps. “Get in there!”

Alaska ducks inside without a second thought.

The tent is warm, stuffy - Alaska’s breath catches at the sudden shift, the sense of illness crawling up her lungs. It’s dark, but a lantern burns on top of one of the crates, casting Sharon in a dim, flickering light. As Alaska sits down next to her, she can make out a frown of discomfort on her face, sweat beading at her temples.

The silence is oppressive.

“You’d better not die on me,” Alaska says after a moment, her voice low in an almost whisper. “Who’s going to protect me from Solomon? You still have a deal to uphold, and someone once told me you never break your word.”

Sharon’s eyebrow doesn’t even twitch, and Alaska suddenly has a hard time holding her tears at bay.

“You look like my mom,” she says. “Or at least I assume you do. I never got to see her when she was–” she cuts herself off, taking in a shaking breath. “This is already a little better. At least I can see you. At least I can–” She cuts herself off, touching Sharon’s hand and curling it into her own in silence. It’s clammy, and she does her best to warm it between her palms. She tries to ignore how limp it is.

“You’re - I thought I hated you,” Alaska whispers, even quieter. “I - clearly, I don’t.” She pauses for a moment, holding her breath and feeling like she’s just confessed one of her darkest secrets. Sharon doesn’t stir.

Abruptly, the whole thing feels ridiculous. “I mean, clearly,” Alaska snorts, glancing down at where she has Sharon’s hand between hers. “I’m holding your hand. What kind of woman does that with her kidnapper?” She laughs a little, a tear rolling down her cheek. “I think a week ago I would have run, right here and right now. You could have died and I would have laughed.” Her voice breaks on the last word, and fear curdles in her stomach.

“I think you’ve changed something in me,” she whispers, and she squeezes her eyes shut against the confession, a raw and vulnerable feeling in her chest. Or maybe you’ve just allowed me to be who I really am.

She bites her tongue against those words. They aren’t true. They can’t be.

“Good,” Sharon says, and Alaska jumps, whipping her head up from their intertwining hands to look at Sharon’s face. Sharon smirks, her eyes still half lidded with exhaustion, but lucid.

“Whatever you heard–” Alaska starts, but Sharon squeezes her hand, startling her into silence.

“Don’t tell me it was a lie,” she says softly, face suddenly serious. “Because you’re… you’re changing something in me too.”

Alaska stares at her, the words striking a chord and making something warm spread through her chest. She tries her best to push it back down, but to no avail. “What could you possibly have to learn from me? How to be a civilized person? I didn’t think that was possible.”

Sharon smiles a little. “I’m learning how to be vulnerable again,” she says, closing her eyes. Her grip remains firm in Alaska’s. “With you I feel safe.”

“I don’t even know how to shoot a gun,” Alaska laughs, but the warmth in her chest is swelling, spilling throughout her entire body and sending goosebumps up her arms. “You - you make me feel safe.”

“There are other ways to be safe,” Sharon says softly, opening her eyes again, and Alaska finds herself at a loss for words.

She hasn’t ever felt this way before, and she doesn’t know what to do with the enormity of the feeling. She feels weightless - she feels like a string is attaching her to the woman lying in front of her, like Sharon is the one keeping her from flying away. Alaska wants to shorten the distance.

“Sharon,” she breathes out, and she reaches out to cup Sharon’s cheek. Sharon immediately wraps her hand around Alaska’s wrist, holding her there. Alaska feels affection burst within her, as well as a shining beam of hope at the cool skin beneath her palm.

“Sharon,” she says again, unable to help the slow smile from creeping across her face. “I think your fever broke.”

“I had a fever?” Sharon says, her eyes glittering with amusement, and Alaska leans down to–

“The fever is broken?” Katya asks, and Alaska shoots away from Sharon, flying to her feet and ignoring the confused look Sharon sends her.

“I - uh, I’m–” she stammers, a blush creeping up her neck and over her ears. Sharon ends up saving her, but she can’t bring herself to even glance at the other woman gratefully, too embarrassed of what she had been about to do just seconds before. Her heart beats quickly at the reminder, and she has to suck in a shaky breath as Sharon speaks.

“She’s no doctor, but I am sweating like a pig in heat,” Sharon says, and Katya edges past Alaska to drop to her knees next to Sharon, feeling her forehead. Alaska steps away, into the background.

“It is,” Katya says, a huge grin splitting her face. “Thank god. Oh, thank god.” She grabs Sharon’s face between her hands and kisses her forehead grandly, her smile insane. “You lucky bitch.”

“Don’t call me ‘bitch’,” Sharon says as Katya clasps her hands.

“With the stress you have put me through, I’d say you deserve worse.”

“Did you say her fever was down?” Jinkx says, poking her head in and eyes lighting up when Katya nods. “Oh, thank god.” She rushes in, kneeling next to Sharon’s other side and grasping her hand tightly. “You had me so worried.”

“I had enough melodrama with Alaska,” Sharon says dryly, but she lifts her other hand to cover Jinkx’s, smiling softly. “You had nothing to worry about.”

“Next time I’ll get the fever,” Jinkx tells her, unimpressed, “and then I can tell you that you had nothing to worry about. And please - you love melodrama.”

“Alaska,” Katya says, glancing behind her and holding out a rag. Alaska takes it, an unidentifiable feeling ballooning in her stomach. “Please, wet this in one of the buckets outside.”

Alaska rolls her lips between her teeth, reluctant to leave Sharon and reluctant to show it to anyone.

“Alright,” she says, after a beat, and then she’s ducking out of the tent, the cool air like a slap in the face.

“Fuck,” she whispers harshly. She wants to go back in. She needs to see Sharon, to touch her and make sure she’s still real, still here. She hates herself for her need - it’s weak, and it’s stupid. But the need is still there.

It’s ironic, she thinks as she makes her way over to the buckets resting by the side of the tent, that she’s had so many moments alone with Sharon, and the one time she actually wants one, she can’t have it.

Irony has never been her favorite motif.

🌸

A week passes before Sharon is deemed ‘healed’ by Katya, and it’s enough time for Alaska to get over whatever fever of emotion had possessed her the night Sharon’s fever broke.

Sharon never brought up their conversation again, and Alaska had followed her lead, grateful for the silence on the subject. Emotions had been running high - Alaska had barely been able to think, much less say things that she truly meant. She would have said anything to get Sharon to live, and that had resulted in some weird confessions. And another almost kiss.

Again: emotions had been running high.

But no matter how hard Alaska tries to brush the night away, it sticks to her like glue, and her heart still beats a little faster when she lies down next to Sharon at night, or when Sharon still comes just a little too close to her when they’re out of the tent. She finds herself wanting to hold Sharon’s hand again, to reassure herself with the other woman’s solidity. She finds herself staring at Sharon’s mouth more than once, the ghost of her dream that first night in Sharon’s tent on her lips.

Something had shifted within her the moment she’d confessed her change to Sharon, and she resents it.

She’s been avoiding Sharon, at least the best that she can in a camp made up of only eight women, if only to save herself from falling further into this thing she’s feeling any more than she already has. It’s hard, however, when the object of her feelings seems to find her every other hour.

“Lasky,” Sharon says, sitting next to Alaska on the log she’s been on for the past few hours, nose deep in one of Jinkx’s novels. She pretends like her heart doesn’t lurch at the nickname. “The food supply is so bad, Katya’s letting me go hunting! Can you believe it?”

“I can,” Alaska says, pretending to still be reading even though her eyes have been glued on “farm” since the moment she sensed Sharon coming over. “And I care why?”

“Because you’re coming with me.”

Alaska looks up from Northanger Abbey. “What? No.”

“Yes.”

“You can’t make me go with you, Sharon.”

“I can make you do whatever I want,” Sharon says staunchly, but there’s little force behind the words. “I thought you wanted to learn to shoot.”

Alaska hesitates. “I want to read,” she says after a moment. The reminder had served to bring forth the catastrophe that was the field in her memory, and she still feels a sick churning in her gut at the thought of what she had almost done.

“You need to learn to protect yourself,” Sharon starts, and Alaska raises an eyebrow.

“What’s the point of our deal if I have to protect myself anyway?”

Sharon’s eyebrows jump up. “After that fiasco with Jinkx’s pistol–?”

“That fiasco,” Alaska interrupts, irritation sparking in her chest, “is the reason I don’t want to shoot. I don’t have to shoot, and I won’t.”

“God forbid,” Sharon says, clearly annoyed. “We wouldn’t want you soiling your mind with the knowledge of how to aim a pistol.”

“God forbid,” Alaska agrees, and she opens her book again.

“I’m worried about you,” Sharon says, and Alaska frowns, glancing back up at her.

“What?”

“I’m not invulnerable. Why do you think you needed to be the one shooting in the first place?”

Alaska rolls her lips between her teeth, silent.

“I’ll protect you, Alaska - I keep my word, and even if you shoot like a goddamn gunslinger, I’ll shoot before you have to. But even with that, it might be better for you if you know how to shoot first.”

Alaska looks at Sharon, taking in the urgency in her eyes and the soft, serious pout of her lips. It’s another moment before she remembers to tear her eyes away.

“Alright,” she concedes, and Sharon’s bright grin almost makes it worth it.

“We can take Cerrone - though I hope there’s no bad memories associated with him. You know, beca–”

“Fuck off.”

Sharon cackles, and Alaska’s chest swells at the sound. This is not a good sign, and it isn’t a good idea to be going out alone with Sharon, if she wants to kill her feelings.

But she wants to be alone with Sharon again, wants to give into the intense attraction that has been lingering between them since they met, and she has the perfect excuse for it.

Her temptations are getting easier and easier to give into, and she can’t quite bring herself to dislike it.

🌸

“Be careful with how you hold that - I love a good scar, but I’m not too eager to get another one just yet.”

“I’m not - I’m not incompetent, Sharon. I know how to point it away from you.”

“Then fucking point it away from me!”

Alaska huffs, frustration a seemingly permanent pressure in her chest as she turns from Sharon to the beer bottles they have lined up. Approximately none have been shattered in the hour they’ve been trying, the idea of actually hunting forgotten, and Alaska is close to giving up.

She fires again, and the sound of a bullet hitting a tree cracks through the forest loudly. No birds scatter - Alaska’s already scared them all off.

“Damn it!” she snaps, tempted to throw the gun to the ground in anger. “Why can’t I fucking get this?”

“It takes time,” Sharon says from her position leaning against Cerrone, a bemused smirk on her face. “You won’t get it immediately.”

“We’ve been here an hour, I’ve had plenty of time,” Alaska shoots back heatedly. She aims again. The bullet hits the log the bottles rest on, and one of the bottles wobbles and falls over with the vibrations. Sharon claps.

“One down!”

“You’re close enough that I’m pretty sure I can shoot you with this,” Alaska threatens, and Sharon laughs.

“Here,” she says, walking over to Alaska. “Show me how you’re aiming.”

“Why don’t you just show me again,” Alaska says tiredly. “Clearly, I’m not doing it right.”

“Alright,” Sharon says, and then suddenly her hands are on Alaska’s biceps, her leather gloves catching on the cotton of Alaska’s sleeve. “Stick your arms straight out in front of you.” She pushes Alaska’s arms up and out, running her hands down her arms to curl Alaska’s fingers over the trigger, cupping Alaska’s hands with her own.

“I didn’t mean ‘act as my puppeteer’,” Alaska says quietly, trying not to blush.

“Well, just watching me do it didn’t help,” Sharon says, hand still resting on Alaska’s wrists. Her tone is serious, but the corner of her mouth is curving upwards, a pleased gleam in her eyes. “Clearly, you need a heavier hand.”

The blush succeeds in crawling across her cheeks. “Okay,” Alaska says, ignoring Sharon’s comment and the way it makes her stomach flutter. She takes a deep breath, willing her heartbeat to slow down. It doesn’t work. “And now what?”

“Now…” Sharon trails off, stepping behind Alaska and pressing so close her breath ghosts along the side of Alaska’s face, her chin nearly resting on her shoulder. A hand comes to rest on Alaska’s hip, steadying her, and Alaska tries not to let her breath catch. Sharon’s warmth is overwhelming, and the strength that Alaska can feel in just Sharon’s hands is less frightening than it is safe.

She has to fight not to just relax back into the other woman, Sharon’s presence the only thing she can focus on - the only thing she wants to feel. She bites the inside of her cheek to bring herself out of it, focusing instead on the pain.

“Now,” Sharon says again, voice softer now that she’s close, “you line up the top of the barrel with where you want to hit the bottle. Take a breath. Shoot on the exhale.”

Alaska sucks in a deep breath, attempting to clear her head. Sharon’s hand over her hip isn’t helping.

She lines up the revolver, and she fires.

The glass shatters, and Alaska feels a spike of excitement in her chest, grinning.

“There,” Sharon says, and she steps away from Alaska to go investigate the damage. It suddenly feels like Alaska is missing some part of herself, her back cold now that Sharon isn’t pressed up against it, and it dampens the pride that’s rising in her chest. She shivers, and glares as Sharon’s back. She’s trying to get over this - this feeling, but it feels impossible with Sharon so close all the time.

She finds herself giving into it far too quickly once again.

“You said I made you feel safe,” she says quietly, as Sharon picks up a shard of green glass. She looks at Alaska through it, holding it over her eye like a monocle.

“Hm?”

“You said I made you feel safe,” Alaska says, raising her voice. “Right when your fever broke.” Sharon visibly pauses for a moment, expression stilling.

“I don’t remember,” she says after a beat, tossing the shard back into the grass and straightening up from where she’d crouched. She looks at Alaska steadily, expression unreadable.

The fact that she doesn’t have a tell is a tell in and of itself.

Alaska raises an eyebrow. “That sounds likely.”

“I had a fever, Alaska,” Sharon says, raising an eyebrow in return. “I don’t remember.”

Alaska bites her lip, her heart pounding. Sharon doesn’t seem like she would deny this - she’s been tempting Alaska the entire time, she’d said “you’re the only thing more beautiful than this”, her eyes had been nothing but vulnerable when she’d confessed to Alaska that she hadn’t been just that for a long time.

Sharon, Alaska is realizing, has worked her way into her heart.

It’s frightening.

“What’s the point of saying I’m teaching you to be vulnerable when you can’t even admit you said it?” Alaska asks, frustrated.

“What’s the point of being vulnerable when the other person pretends you don’t exist after you say it?” Sharon snaps back, and guilt shoots through Alaska like an arrow. So Sharon had noticed her avoidance - maybe even purposefully sabatoged it. Alaska’s chest warms at the thought, that Sharon might have missed her.

“Something jog your memory?” Alaska asks, not quite able to keep her pleasure out of her tone, and Sharon glares at her.

“Sure. I also remember you saying - you said I’d changed you. What happened to that?”

Alaska feels put on the spot, like a frightened deer - Sharon’s immediate denial suddenly makes a lot more sense. Alaska bites back her own denial, that she would have said anything as long as Sharon lived, but even saying that peels away a layer of her defense, shows too much vulnerability. She doesn’t think Sharon even realizes how small of a corner she’s put Alaska in.

“Well?” Sharon asks impatiently, and Alaska is abruptly aware of how long they’d been standing in silence.

“I asked you first,” she says petulantly, and Sharon’s lips tighten.

“Exactly,” she says. “I’m not the one who brought it up.”

“That’s not how this works.”

“It’s exactly how it works.”

“I can wait here all day,” Alaska says, stubborn. She will not be the first one to crack.

Sharon deflates, something disappointed flickering across her face. Alaska feels a pang at the sight of it. “Well, I can’t,” she says, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“What?”

“Let’s just go,” Sharon says, walking over to Cerrone. “This is pointless.” Alaska catches her wrist as she passes, her heart lurching at the prospect of leaving this unfinished.

“Stop,” she says, and Sharon looks at her, expression unreadable.

“I’m not going to–”

“Hold on,” Alaska says, formulating her thoughts. She thinks she understands Sharon’s reluctance - it’s hard for her to be vulnerable, but she imagines it’s even harder when the woman she wants to be vulnerable with won’t give her anything in return. Alaska needs to extend her hand first - offer something before she can take any more.

Alaska needs to make a deal.

She sucks in a long breath. “You have changed something in me,” she starts, and Sharon’s eyebrows jump up in surprise, her mouth slightly opening. “I - I mean look at me.” She takes her hand off of Sharon and motions to herself, to the gun at her hip. “I wouldn’t have touched this gun that first night. I wouldn’t have asked to learn to shoot, and I wouldn’t be asking to know you.”

Sharon’s eyes soften. “Alaska–”

“And it - it runs deeper than that. I–” Alaska takes a deep breath, stumbling over her words and close to tears. “I almost don’t want to go back to New York. There’s - I can breathe here.”

There’s a long pause in the conversation, and Alaska can hear the birds beginning to chirp again, the warm summer breeze rustling the pines and the underbrush. Evening light casts long shadows across Sharon’s face as she looks at Alaska, her lips curved in the barest of smiles.

“I feel safe with you,” she says, stepping closer, “because you have the pieces I’m missing. You’re cautious. You’re sneaky. You’re so expressive, and you don’t even know it. You’re the decision I don’t even think to make.” She stops just inches away, her eyes never straying from Alaska’s. She tilts her hat up, and her eyes dart to Alaska’s lips. Alaska leans forward, spellbound. “Before this camp, this life, I couldn’t tell anyone anything. I feel like I could tell you everything.”

“Tell me a secret, then,” Alaska says softly, her heart pounding. Only one thing is running through her mind: Sharon. “The biggest one you kept.”

Sharon smirks. “The biggest one I kept would have been this.”

She leans in, and she captures Alaska’s mouth in a soft kiss.

Alaska’s brain short circuits, and all she feels is an overwhelming sense of finally.

Sharon cups Alaska’s cheeks, her leather gloves soft against her skin and surprisingly gentle. Alaska buries her hands in Sharon’s hair, running her fingers through it, unable to stop herself from moaning softly into their kiss, her belly warm and fluttering. She can smell the pine trees and the earth, and she drinks them in, Sharon’s warmth underneath her hands and her lips.

They part for a moment, Sharon starting to smile too much to sustain any more kissing, and Alaska laughs a little, happiness overriding any regret she might have felt otherwise. “This is why I avoided you all week.”

“Don’t act like you can resist my charm,” Sharon says, smug, and then they’re kissing again.

Alaska is sure she’ll have the time to regret this later, but for now, all she can feel is happiness and a relief that traces back eleven years.

🌸

Alaska does have the time to regret it later, and the bite of it is sharp.

Kissing Sharon had been a mistake.

A comforting, wonderful, natural mistake that still makes her heart flutter and her chest swell with joy, but still a mistake.

She can’t stay here at the camp, she can’t live this life, and she can’t fall for Sharon, if she hasn’t already. It isn’t an option.

She hadn’t lied to Sharon in the forest - she doesn’t want to return to New York, back to its suffocation and responsibilities and invasive society. But she still has to. She has duties to her father, and to her mother. She doesn’t stop being a daughter just because she’s found a place full of women who have.

For god’s sake, her stomach still churns at the memory of pointing the revolver at the man on the ridge. She can’t shoot to– she can’t do what’s necessary to stay, to live this life. She doesn’t belong here.

As she stares into the fire, however, listening to the women of the camp laugh and eat with each other, she finds herself longing to stay. She feels detached from them, like an outsider. It’s because she is.

She wishes she wasn’t.

“Are you okay?”

Alaska jumps at the sound of Sharon’s voice, whipping her head around to stare at the other woman, who has a slight frown on her face.

“Jesus,” she says, heart still pounding. “You scared the shit out of me.”

“When do I not?” Sharon asks drily, and Alaska lets out a snort.

“You should try to give me a break some time.”

“Mhm,” Sharon says, tilting her head, her eyes crinkling. “Maybe you and Jinkx could take turns.”

“Funny,” Alaska says. “I don’t think Jinkx has gotten a break since she met you.”

“She might now,” Sharon says, and the insinuation feels like a slap in the face. They’d fallen so easily into conversation that she’d forgotten -

“I can’t stay here,” she blurts out, and Sharon stares at her, shocked.

“What?”

“I–” Alaska cuts herself off, suddenly unable to meet Sharon’s eyes. She looks into the fire instead, a pit of dread already yawning in her chest. “I should be honest with you.”

“What?” Sharon asks again, but now, her voice is flat. “Let me guess: you don’t like women?”

Alaska laughs even as the question startles her, her instinctive need to deny it on the tip of her tongue. “No,” she says instead, and she thinks it’s the closest she’s going to come to admitting it out loud. “But I - I don’t belong here.”

“Of course you belong here,” Sharon says, derisively. “You certainly don’t belong in New York.”

“No, I don’t,” Alaska says, and she can’t help the way her voice wobbles. “I don’t belong anywhere, it feels like. But I still have to go back.”

“Why?” Sharon sounds exasperated, something like worry and anger edging into her tone. “For your father? So you can get him more money to stack onto his pile?”

“I have a duty–”

“Fuck duty!” Sharon exclaims, and Alaska flinches at the sudden volume. “Sorry,” Sharon says immediately, and she touches Alaska’s shoulder. It takes all of her willpower not to lean into it.

“You don’t understand,” Alaska whispers, tears in her eyes. She’s too embarrassed to even wipe them away, sick of being so vulnerable and weak in front of this woman. She wants to be strong for her, but she can’t. It’s just further proof that she isn’t suited for this, no matter what Sharon says. “My father–”

“I understand more than you think,” Sharon interrupts, and Alaska turns to look at her, irritation snapping in her chest.

“Are you willing to share?” she asks, and Sharon falls silent, something like guilt flickering across her face. “That’s what I thought,” Alaska says, even as disappointment sinks like a lead weight into her stomach. “I can’t – I can’t stay for someone who doesn’t even trust me, Sharon.”

“But I can’t be the reason you stay,” Sharon says, grabbing Alaska’s hand. Alaska lets her. “This life - it’s something you have to want. And you want it.”

“I never said that,” Alaska says, breath quickening and feeling exposed. “I–”

“I can see it in your eyes,” Sharon says, her eyes darting all over Alaska’s face, something urgent and determined filling her expression. “You don’t have to say it. Not like you would, anyway.”

“Because I can’t say it,” Alaska snaps. “You think you know me, but you have–” she’s tripping over her words, and it’s only making her more frustrated. “I don’t belong here, Sharon. I don’t get to want it. I can’t even - I can’t approve of what you do here, much less do it myself. I don’t – I can handle getting married-” she ignores the way Sharon’s hand suddenly tightens in hers, “-and pretending to be happy. I’ve been doing it my whole life.”

“You’re just scared.”

“No, I’m just realistic.”

“You think this isn’t real?” Sharon says, eyes wide and brows furrowed.

“Not for me.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Sharon snaps, and Alaska shrugs, willing her tears back down.

“I’ve been called worse,” she says, and a flicker of hurt and surprise moves across Sharon’s face.

“I didn’t–”

“I know,” Alaska says, “but it’s still true.”

They fall quiet, and Alaska has just enough time to register how alone they are before Sharon breaks the silence.

“There’s a robbery tomorrow,” Sharon says suddenly. “Come with us.”

Alaska frowns. “Sharon–”

“Think of it as a tester,” Sharon barrels ahead, ignoring Alaska’s protest. “To see if you can handle it.”

“I can’t,” Alaska says, although she’s tempted. The desire makes her stomach twist with preemptive guilt. “Innocent people? I can’t do that. You can’t ask me to do that.”

“Since when have wealthy people ever been innocent?”

“I’m wealthy,” Alaska says, and Sharon raises an eyebrow.

“Your point?”

They stare at each other for a moment, Sharon clearly nowhere near backing down, and Alaska can feel herself growing used to the idea. She allows herself to think it through: if she can’t handle it, Sharon will be forced to recognize how much this isn’t going to work. And if she can - well. She’ll cross that bridge later.

If Alaska keeps her hopes low, the idea isn’t a bad one.

“No killing,” Alaska says, finally giving in and looking Sharon in the eyes. “I can’t - just, no killing.”

Sharon grins sharply. “I’ve never killed a man in my life.”

It’s clearly a lie, but Alaska can’t bring herself to care. She’s already almost lost this woman once - she doesn’t want to be the reason she loses her again, not when they’ve just started something new.

If wanting Sharon is breaking the law, why does it matter if she breaks a few more?

#rpdr fanfiction #sharon needles #alaska thunderfuck #jinkx monsoon #katya zamolodchikova #shalaska #western au #cowboy au #lesbian au #wild flower #freyja #tw guns #tw severe illness

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emrysarthurpendragon · 4 years

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Where do you think you're going?

Arthur’s POV:

I stare with wide eyes at the collapsed building. It can’t be. Merlin can’t be … he can’t be dead! Buried alive and gone to the land of Avalon. Gwaine hand stops me just in time from running inside when the stones started falling. I scream in despaired, yells my friend’s name but no answer came. In anger, I turn my sword to a mercenary. The man dared to laugh at my distress, and, of course, I killed him. I killed him coldly and feel no remorse. Not even a hint of regret. Cover with dust, I push Gwaine away and hurry to the fallen tower. My hands shake with fear as I collect one cold rock after another. The dust makes me cough, my eyes are watering with unshed tears but still I work harder and call his name.

“Merlin! Merlin!” the desperate words of a man, a lover. I loved him, I still do, and he has to come back to me. I’ll do whatever it takes. “Merlin, can you hear me?!”

An eerie silence falls on the group. We are all listening for something, even a muffle noise from beyond. Percival approaches me and with his force, he starts moving rocks too. I notice how some prisoners want to help, to use their magic and save my friend, but they are too weak. I can’t blame them, even if I will give my throne to a spark of the ban art right now. Something, anything to find him. Find them. Just when I formulate that wish inside my heart, something happens. Hope rushes in me. Here, right where I picked up a pebble, I find a hand. Not Merlin’s, it is too small, but it clearly belongs to someone. Probably the child we came here for in the first place.

“Over here!” I call. The frail fingers move, not much, but the person is still alive if not in a good shape. As a time, my knights, brothers and friends in more ways than I can describe, help me. The more we collect the tower’s fallen parts, the more we realise magic was at work when the building collapsed. A golden shield, thin as skin, covers the child’s arm. Before long, we free her entire arm and are met with bright red clothing. Camelot’s cloak. Meaning Merlin is now closer than ever. Once again, I hear myself call his name. What if he died? The mere thought scares me. I can’t lose him. Not after my father and Morgana. Not when he is the only one keeping me sane and alive. No one can replace him in my life. If there was a drug for me, it would be Merlin. His presence gives me strength and hope. Hope for a brighter future, for a prosperous reign. He makes me see the good in myself and the others. Without him, I may end up like my father. I cut my thoughts when an adult body appears. It’s my warlock, firmly curled around the child. He protected her from any harm. Gently, I unwrapped him – pardon the poor comparison – and call for Percival. I hand him the girl, barely human with all the dirt and coagulate blood on her, before focusing again on the dark-haired man. He does not move. He does not even seem to breathe. Blood is pouring from the back of his head, where he’d been hit earlier. I’m scared. What if I cause more damage by moving him? Had he always been so light? Elyan helps me carry my former manservant to a clear place and we check his injuries together. We are no physicians, but a first look makes us notice things like a concussion – well, he had a tower falling on him, it does no good – broken ribs and maybe more. We also notice his soft breath. He’s alive…

“We need help; but we’re too far away from Camelot. He may not make it,” I say, worried creating wrinkles between my brows.

“The same goes to the girl,” says Leon, who volunteers to care for the girl. I guess he just wants to feel useful, by saving a child when he couldn’t do the same for his own daughter. He never told me about her … or her magic. Did he believe I would have handed her to my father? Was I that kind of prince in my early life? Before Merlin came and changed my world? “She suffers severe malnutrition and abuse I can’t even name.” My knight voice turns into a growl and I can only guess what he means. I noticed the burn when we pulled her from the debris, I can’t imagine what they had done to her. I close my eyes, fighting nausea. Now is not the time for revenge. Especially when we took off most of the men involved.

Hours later, both knights and former prisoner set camp into a new clearing. We decided to move once the wounded had been taken care of and now, I allow myself some rest. Merlin is lying motionless beside me, sometime shifting with unease and I pray for whatever God to help us. Near him, the child rests too. She looks healthier now. Or at least, Leon and Percival cleaned her, so she looks decent, and wrapped in a couple of extra-size clothing and blankets. Sir Leon even added his cloak, so she now looks like a baby carefully swaddle. I won’t be surprised if, back to Camelot, my friend adopts her.

“You two are quite the pair,” I whisper to myself, running my fingers through Merlin’s messy hair. “Of course, you have to find a child of magic and end up in danger together. What am I going to do with you, eh? There are quicker ways to kill me.”

Even the joke sounds lame in my ears. I must be tired. I decide to call it a night and, after my thoughts quieted enough, I find myself drifting to sleep. For a while at least.

* * *

The sun is barely rising when my eyes shoot open. I felt something. A touch on my shoulder. My instincts make me places a hand on my sword, only to find the cause of the ‘threat’. The little girl is up, her eyes burning gold and sitting next to my face. What I felt was her small finger booping my nose. The moment she noticed I’m awake, she tried to run but fell, her legs too weak to carry her. How does she come here? Crawling on the floor?

“Hey, don’t worry. I won’t hurt you,” I say awkwardly. I never interacted with a child before. Especially a wild one. “My name is Arthur, I’m Merlin’s friend.”

I gesture to my unconscious knight and jump when a voice pops in my head.

“Emrys?” asks the small, cute voice. “Emrys hurt. I’m sorry,” she continues, her breath fastening and the wind blowing harder. Is that the kid doing?

“It’s not your fault. Merlin is an idiot. He would have got hurt anyway,” I try to joke, resulting in a pinecone falling from a branch to my head. I saw how the thing snapped and, judging by the look of pure horror written across the girl face, I knew she was behind it. To ease the tension, I laugh openly. Probably the best reaction, since the little one tilts her head, confuses like a cat. She moves closer and places her hands on my cheeks, studying my traits when I am laughing.

“What’s this?” she asks, still not using her voice.

“What’s what?” I ask, confuse. Were all kids so ‘not specific’?

“This!” she mind-says, mimicking the smile I had not long before. She also tried to produce a laugh, but not so well. The fact she does not even recognise a smile or what it means crushes me. Even with a father like Uther, I had happy moments in my life. Saddened by that knowledge, I sober off before answering the best I could.

“It’s a smile. That’s what you do when you are happy. And if you are very happy, you make a noise too, and it’s a laugh,” I’m bad at this, right? “You can laugh too if you think a joke is funny. Like, I think it was funny when you make than pinecones fell on me.”

“Funny?” the cat look is back again. She seems to proceed all the information like they are new to her. “Not mad? No punish?”

“Of course not. You did nothing wrong. You were unhappy because I say Emrys is an idiot, right?”

This time, the kid nods and locks her golden eyes into mine. The wind disappeared some minutes before, and I can’t tell what she is using her magic for now.

“Emrys is strong. I love him.”

“So do I, I love him and respect him. He’s a dear friend, and I like teasing him from time to time.” Shall I feel worried for the child claiming her love for my warlock?

“Teasing?”

“Uh… You have a lot of questions, haven’t you?” I ask, chuckling. “But I have one too. What’s your name?”

She blushes for a second and lowers her head. Her fingers play with the grass beneath us. I can see her mind rushing, searching for the information locks in her brain.

“Gaia?” she finally says, “Where papa?”

“I don’t know where’s your dad. You know his name?”

For the first time, I see something other than fear on Gaia’s face; she is judging me. Like I just ask the stupidest question ever. There is actual ‘are you dumb’ look in her eyes. So much like Merlin now that I think about it.

“His name is Papa!”

Right. Of course. Papa. There were not hundred men with that name, according to children. Ok. Think, Arthur.

“It’s a very common name, can you tell me something else?” and please, not that her mother’s name is ‘mama’ or ‘mum’ or ‘mummy’.

“Show you! Come, come!”

Curious, I let the child sit on my knees – I guess she feels I’m safe? – and cup my face with his hands. Magic invades my mind, but it does not hurt. It feels like I am welcoming something I longed to meet before. It’s both foreign and familiar while Gaia leads me to a strange place. In this vision, she’s not the scared little girl anymore. She’s a teen, strong and confident, leading the way through what she endured before we found her, ignoring the pain they may cause, to a secret door. The gate was barely large enough for a rabbit. I look up at the young woman, confuse.

“Push the door, and you will see my happiest memories. They are from before I was taken.”

“You look older,” I blurt before I could stop myself. No shit, Arthur.

“I was older once, in another life,” she tells me. Another life? Like … reincarnation? Like, she lived, died, and came back again? Well, her life sucked until then.

“You’re right, but it’s all in the past. There is more to life than what happened. With your help, I may retrieve my memories and who my parents are now. I’m afraid my magic locked away all the happy memories when my younger self realised no help was coming.”

“Wait, you can read my mind?!” Arthur asked, horrified.

“We are in my head, what do you expect, Queenie?”

“Oi! You sound like Gwaine, I don’t like it.”

We share a laugh but, after she tells me I’m the only one – with Emrys – able to unlock her memories, I place my hand over the wooden surface.

Something clicked and the scene morphs into something else. I’m in a courtyard, watching a family in the distance. Blurry at first, they become sharper as I walk. A child, maybe around three or four-year-old, laughs and tries to escape her father’s grasp. I can’t see the man, as he is turning his back to me, but he is blond and clearly busy tickling that version of Gaia. The girl squeals happily and locks her arms around her dad. From behind, Yseult walks with a soft smile, one she never had since the incident.

“It’s nap time, my love. Kiss papa and off to bed.”

“Oh noooo! Wanna play more, pwease?” she asks, giving both her parents the best puppy eyes one could imagine. I almost yell for them to allow her more time, and I’m just visiting the memory. Wait … did I say Yseult? Like, Yseult Leon’s spouse? Could it be? I take a step back and sure, he is my friend – younger – holding his baby girl against his chest. I see him gently kiss her curly blond hair and promising her a story if she just agrees to sleep.

“I even have a surprise for you, if you are nice and follow your mother’s orders,” Am I dreaming, or does Leon sounds like the kind of parents who have a hard time parenting, just because their child is too cute? I’m sure he just makes up that gift story.

The scene changes and I’m now in beautiful gardens. Gaia is gasping at what her father just gave her. A pendant, with a small quote engraves behind. In her hand, a wooden sword hangs, forgotten for now. “I love you, papa!” she squeals, laughing when Leon picks her for a kiss.

Another moment, Leon is on his horse and Gaia clings to his cloak. She is sobbing uncontrollably and scream.

“Don’t leave, Papa pwease! Bad men are coming, please! Please! I’m scared!” she is probably between four or six years old now. Leon shakes his head, silently begging Yseult to take their daughter. When her mother pulls her away, the noble child shrieks. I can feel the panic that took her then, her magic flying around and summoning the wind.

“I’ll be back soon, baby. Be a good girl.”

It is now night. I don’t know how much time has passed since Leon’s departure, but Gaia is in bed, clutching a small sword in a hand. I don’t know where she finds it, but I’m sure nor his mother or a servant gave it to her. Her blue eyes stare at nothing but blackness. Until they heard the alarms. There are screams coming from the village and soon, from inside the house. I see Gaia rushing out of bed, her small arm barely able to lift her sword. She’s brave for her age, I notice, as she’s not calling for her mother. More children would have, that’s what people do when they are scared. They beg for a parent. An eternity pass and the door opened, revealing two men. One fly across the room and I cheer for Gaia. It’s not a kingly reaction, but I’m alone, so I guess it’s ok. The other laughs when he sees the little girl stands proudly and pointing her sword at him. With a single blow, he makes her lose her grasp on the weapon and she shy away. She was terrified, of course. The man tackles her to the floor, and I curse. Why can’t I help her? It’s all in the past, but I want to save that girl, to give her the life she deserves. Of course, I am amazed when I see the way she burns the mercenary’s hands when he took her, but all I can think is her current state, in the real world.

The scene vanishes and I’m now back in the clearing. Gaia watches me as if nothing happened and I smile at her. I also take notice of all the curious glares send toward us, meaning the moment lasts more than a minute.

“Arthur? You okay?” Lancelot asks, and I nod, sitting more comfortably with Gaia still clung to me. “Hello kid, is Arthur all comfy?”

“I’m not a pillow, Lancelot,” I say, still smiling when Gaia nods seriously. Ok. Maybe I was. “She showed me her last memories with her parents, oh and she talks her lot,” I point, winking to the child who hid even more against me. I’m not sure, but I think I have a thing, like a natural talent with little humans. I mean, I’m friends with Merlin, and he’s a child in a man’s body. “Only, she uses her mind. Can you … can you fetch Leon and bring him here?”

The man nod, quickly checking on Merlin before the leaves. Emrys is still out, but I have a good feeling. Maybe because a sorcerer we saved comes to me while I wait for my friends.

“Emrys will be fine. Druids are coming to heal him. They heard the King and Queen’s call.”

“The … what?” I ask feeling dumb again.

“It’s a long story. A legend among our people. Emrys will tell you when the time comes.”

I nod my agreement. I guess I just must wait and see then. For now, I’m amazed by the magic around the camp, with people acting as if they were not with people from a kingdom where their kind is killed for what they are. Is this Camelot future? Once I lift the ban? I have that dream, and I’m sure Gaia has too, if I believe the way she uses her gift to create small sparkly butterflies. Red, blue, or golden insects that vanish when she notices my two knights.

“You summoned me, Sire?” Leon asks his eyes studying the strange pair we are forming with our new addition. “I see our young guest is feeling much better,” he adds, and I nod.

“I think her magic helps a lot. Her eyes keep glowing since she wakes me.” But I focus on the main topic right away. Leon waited long enough, right? I stop Gaia’s game and she looks up, worried and confused, before I turn her face toward my most trusted soldier. “See that man? His name is Leon, he travelled for a long time to rescue you. He’s a brave knight and always keeps his promises, even when it’s hard.” Gaia tilts her head; I can see her picks all the pieces together. She’s still somehow in my brain and the blurry face of her dad is becoming clearer in her mind. Leon, on the other hand, struggles to see where I’m going with my reasoning. “Sir Leon, may I introduce you to the young Lady Gaia?”

I almost laugh at the way the gap at each other, like fishes out water. Leon moves slowly, unsure. He stops when Gaia places her tiny hands over his face, searching for something or showing him a memory. Then, Leon just breaks in front of us. He is crying, for real. Sobbing with an equally crying little girl in his arms.

“Yes, you were right … the bad men came, and I wasn’t there. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry…” and for the first time, we heard her voice. She speaks in a small whisper, with the tone of someone who scream more than enough in her life.

“You came…”

And he did, even if it took them years. I can’t help but smile at them. A family reunited. Merlin on his way back to health when druids came later in the day and used their magic. Maybe there was hope. I have to believe in it.

“You’re right, Sire,” a voice whisper. A druid stands beside me, his hand behind his back. “There may be dangers here, waiting for you and seeking revenge for your father’s actions. But I think you are on your way to become the Once and Future King. If you ever need our help, my people will answer.”

“Thank you,” I whisper.

“Don’t thank me yet. Raising a magical child is a lot of work, she may drive you crazy before you accomplish the prophecy.” I can sense a laugh, a mockery behind his words and my smile soon match his. I should lift the ban of magic soon after we return to Camelot then.

“As long as she’s happy, I’m sure we can work something out.”

The druid laughs even more, but I don’t ask questions. For now, all is well.

#whumptober2020 #no.5 #rescued #merlinbbc #fic #burn tw #child abuse tw #sfw

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into-crazy · 4 years

Text

Man Under the Makeup Pt. 5

Arthur Fleck/Joker x Female Reader series

Warnings- Cursing, doubtful thoughts?

You can find the other parts RIGHT HERE and through the “Man Under the Makeup” tag lovelies!💘

You couldn't get Arthur off of your mind since that night. Going to bed every night thinking about him, to waking up wondering if he was okay. If he was still alive. Hoping he didn't get arrested. Though it's only been a couple of days- 5 to be exact- not that you're counting intentionally. Alright, alright.. Yes, you are counting intentionally. But who could blame you? It was worrying having him out there like that. Watching the news every night, Joker and the mobs tend to be the top topics.

Fire breaks out at the Wealth ball led by the Joker! Dangerous criminal Joker still at large! Violent clown group follow the Joker, shutting down major roads! All of which continue to make the headlines, and not in a good way- according to Gotham City P. D.

The only reassurance being the occasional calls you get from him. A different number each time, since he doesn't have his own line. Picking up the phone and hearing his voice on the other end, you would always exhale with relief. His calls wouldn't last too long- maybe 15 minutes at the most. Still, every call you make sure to ask how he was doing. Checking in on him.

Arthur refuses to hang up the phone until you confirmed you were fine. He tries to call every chance he gets, but he also doesn't want to overdo it. Since you work during the day, he calls more often in the evenings. Leaving sweet voicemails when you don't get the chance to answer the phone- like when you're not home yet or taking a shower.

Slowly trudging through the entry doors of the complex you reside, you make way over to the mailbox area. Heavily exhaling as you stick the key into your box.

It's been a long, frustrating day. You were supposed to be home 3 fucking hours ago, however that wasn't the case. One of the other main secretaries was apparently fired yesterday. So lucky you- of course- were required to handle your regular work, AND cover for hers as well! It wasn't fair for you, having to stay longer than everyone else. Especially on a Friday night! But, that's the way it works. It's either suck it up and stay, or be fired right along with her. You've worked too hard to get this job, work in the city was difficult to come across. You can't afford to lose it when there's bills to pay and food to put on your plate.

Opening the small box, you lazily collect the contents inside. Shutting the door, you look over the mail. Junk mail.. junk mail.. water bill.. Flipping through each, one of the envelopes catches your attention. Unsealed, with child-like handwriting, it was addressed to you. Opening it, you pulled out a small, plain white card.

This reminded me of you. See you soon! Signed Arthur.

Unfolding the card, it revealed a beautifully dried flower inside. Pretty array of light pink petals, with a slim stem. A wide smile plastered across your tired face. Your mood completely turned around as happiness filled your chest. Rapidly radiating throughout the rest of your body. It's one of the sweetest gestures you received. Sweet, darling Arthur. Closing the card ever so smoothly, you head up to your apartment. Joyously awaiting his next phone call.

Stepping out of a steamy shower, you heard the ringing of your phone coming from the living room. Wrapping a towel around your freshly clean body, you hurriedly make way to the phone. Each step leaving a trail of water behind. Snatching it off the receiver, you waste no time in answering. "Hello?"

"Hey y/n," Arthur calmly speaks, groaning slightly at the sound of you. "Mmph, how nice it is to hear your lovely voice. I hope I didn't interrupt anything."

He has this way of speaking to you sometimes that gets you weak in the knees and full in the chest. Starting out super brazen with his words- telling exactly what's on his mind, a deep husk in his voice. Then quickly shying back, higher pitched with a more considerate remark.

"Never. It's always nice hearing from you," you tuck the phone between your ear and shoulder. Taking a brush, running it through your wet locks. You can hear an ongoing noise in the distance. "Are you okay, sweetie?"

"I am now," he acknowledges, "I'm calling you from a payphone, farther down the street from the crowd."

You giggle, picturing him all clowned up standing in a phone booth. Hunched over, with the phone glued to his ear. Trying his hardest to confide your conversation more than what it already is. "Glad you could call. I received your card earlier," you return.

"Oh," he replies enthusiastically, "I was hoping you would."

"It's beautiful, thank you." You reply, lightly tracing the brush bristles with your fingertips.

"N-no need to thank me," he continues bashfully, "I'm sorry I've been so busy lately." He curses himself for not having the time to see you. Caught up with wrecking havoc throughout the city, it's hard enough as is to catch a break for himself. But the last thing he'd want, is you to feel inclined being put second to anything.

"It's okay Arthur," acknowledging you understand. Though it does bother you, you won't let him know it. You fully understand that he has to do what he has to do.

"No, it's not. I haven't made the effort to see you, but I will. I will make the time for you, y/n." He promises over the line. Gazing out the window of the booth, determined on making it a top priority. Because right now, you are his only real priority. Sure, running a gang, robbing banks, and torching buildings is fun and all. But at the end of the day, who is the one he calls? Who's the one he runs to? Who is the one that he- dare to admit- cares about?

Arthur kept his word. On your days off, plus select nights, he'd take you out. Of course, he always came and left as Joker. With the full on paint and costume, accompanied with at least 2 henchmen. Besides not trying to get caught, he also takes great caution in making sure no one identifies you. Upon your request, wishing to stay secluded in the privacy of your life.

It was difficult- clearing restaurants, finding empty theaters, getting him into your apartment undetected. Which wasn't really that hard once you both figured it out. It was just a matter of timing, bribing, and if it had to come down to it- threatening. But for you, it was worth it to him.

Time spent together was limited, due to him having to get back to business. By limited, it simply means he's unable to spend the night or fully remove himself from Joker- appearance wise. Never, by any means has he once rushed your valuable time together. Especially the calmer evenings which consisted of watching a flick and eating takeout in your place. He enjoys those the most.

There is just something special about being wrapped with you in the serenity of your home. Getting to witness you at your most comfortable- hair completely let down, hardly to no makeup, comfy clothes. Moments where you're both able to fully relax mentally beside one another.

He's very gentle and respectful towards you- very much Arthur. Contrary to how the Joker is with pretty much everyone else. To the world out there, he's labeled a monster. A complete, psychotic nut job with no consideration for his actions. A man who will kill anyone in his path. Cruel and heartless. You ignored all that talk. Yeah, he may be a bit extreme, but never with you.

Arthur still couldn't believe how lucky he is to have a woman like you in his life. Although he has you, he's still stuck in that "too good to be true" mindset. Been nothing but let down and hurt his entire life. By the people he considered friends, those he looked up to as role models, family.. Even his own mind gets the best of him sometimes, creating false illusions. Broken promises that he wish were true. Only tearing him down once he comes to the realization that they weren't.

Yet here you are, a beautiful light shining into his world. His body felt warm in your tender presence. He just couldn't fully grasp it. The thought that you were a hallucination pondered his mind on some occasions. Resulting in him having his panic attacks and laughing fits. Many when he's alone, and a few in your company.

However, with every word from your soothing lips, every soft embrace, each beautiful gaze when he meets your eyes- just prove to him you are in fact- real. Canceling away all those conflicting concerns. No doubt, he's falling for you. Hard.

End of part 5. Sorry it was so short!

#Man Under the Makeup #joker #joker 2019 #arthur fleck #arthur fleck x reader #arthur fleck x y/n #arthur fleck x female reader #joker x reader #joker x y/n

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holylulusworld · 5 years

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Unrequited – Part 18

Summary: When John and your father agree to an arranged marriage between their children, they never planned Dean could fall for someone else. Knowing about the arrangement and loving Dean at the same time makes it impossible for you to not feel the heartbreak every time you see him smiling at her. (I shortened the request a bit) Pairing: Dean x Reader, Sam x Reader (platonic/best friends), Arthur Ketch, Jody Mills, OFC’s, Toni Bevella Warnings: angst, fighting, characters death, mind games, language, fluff

Unrequited Masterlist

One week later you gathered all hunters and huntresses you know and who were willing to follow your call in an old hide-out.

“We all know by now these British bastards are not here to help or to support us. They killed our friends, allies…family. I want to strike back. Hard. Fast. Bloody. No mercy this time. We all are experienced in killing monsters – not men but this time the men are the real monsters.” Dean begins.

“I know this is a tough decision, but we all know Sam and Dean. Both are ready to die to protect innocent people or other hunters. I will support them, no matter what.” You add and Dean squeezes your hand tightly.

“Even after what he did to you?” One of the hunters you barely know asks.

“What do you mean?” Sam asks looking at the hunter.

“We all know he left her to die. Now she’s supporting him?” The hunter spats.

“Dean didn’t know I was there. It was Lisa not telling him about me. We talked things out and I do trust Dean. He proved it not a week ago. If you want to go, there is the door.” You say pointing toward the exit.

“Alright, if anyone wants to leave, do it now. I don’t want someone who will not participate to know any details about our plan.” Dean says and the hunter from before and two others leave the room.

“Anyone else wants to leave?” Jody asks. “Good. Sam will explain our plan now. I’m already informed so I will meet up with Donna so she can bring Claire and Alex out of town. I’ll be back in half an hour. If you need me, just call, Y/N.” Jody says placing her hand onto your shoulder.

“Bring your girls to Donna to make sure they are safe. We will take it from here.” Dean says and Jody gives him a warm smile.

----

“Do you want to fill me in why you not just messed up our little game but lost the Winchesters and Dean’s love interest at the same time?” Toni spats.

“How should I have known he would choose Y/N, not Lisa. I wanted him to suffer too, Lady Bevell.” Ketch retorts. His looks are icy, and he blames Toni for the wrong information.

“I gave you all the information we gathered. Dean did not marry Lisa Braeden; he left her and was looking for Y/N for ages. Now they are back together, and you assumed he would not choose her?” Toni exhales annoyed. “It’s not my fault you are not able to use my information.”

“Watch your tongue.” Ketch threatens his hand wrapped tightly around the much smaller woman’s neck. “I can kill you in a blink. The Winchesters will suffer for sure. I’ll force him to choose once again. This time between her and his brother.”

“We need the Winchesters alive, Arthur.” Toni protests.

“I know but you never said I can’t break them. Do you know what will happen if Dean decides to save Sam and not Y/N? He will hate himself and Sam, he will hate his brother too. Both men will lose the most important woman in their lives and I’ll witness it…priceless.” Ketch chuckles and even Toni gulps hard.

“This will break them beyond repair, but we need strong hunters. Everyone worships the Winchesters in the hunter’s community, Ketch.”

“A broken man can be manipulated much easier, Toni. Have a little faith in me and my methods. I’ll break them down and you can build them up again.” Ketch snickers leaving the room in a good mood and a plan to break Dean once for all.

----

“This base is their most important building. Weapons, information…reinforcement. If we can blow it up and kill them, they are out of business for a while.” Sam explains as you glance at the blueprints.

“This looks like a weak spot, Sam. We could hack the door, it’s a simple lock.”

“Great idea. I wanted to burst the door open using my big beautiful baby, but this will work too.” Dean chuckles and you shake your head.

“Hmm…we need to get into their system. This room looks like a server room. I’ll use the flash drive my friend prepared to get their data and will delete all data these bastards gathered. We can’t let anyone have information about us or the people we love.”

“Perfect, Y/N. Dean and you will take this sector. Jody, Sean and I will infiltrate this sector.” Sam says showing you the positions on the blueprints.

“We should meet up here. Looks like an important room. The security is much better. DNA scanner and guards. I bet their boss is in there.”

“I think so.”

“After we got the data we will blow up the building using my explosive. I will not let anyone get away with killing our friends. This is war and we are going to win it.” You state and Dean grins at you.

“Damn, woman. I love the way you think.”

“’cause you do - I’m awesome. Shame you saw me that late.” You tease as you check the blueprints once again. “We need to be careful. This is the only chance we will get. These bastards believe we will choose flight instead of fight, they are wrong. I’ve got something useful for us in my trunk. Got one for all of us.”

“Okay. Anyone wants to leave the party; this is your last chance.” Dean says clapping his hands.

No one in the room moves. Silence is washing over the hunters, knowing this is a take it or leave it situation.

“These guys are used to dominate monsters, people and situations. We will show them American hunters are not someone you want to mess with.” Sam says and Dean looks at his brother full of pride. “As Sammy said, let’s kick some asses.”

----

“Is everything prepared to get hold of the Winchester and his slut?” Ketch asks and Toni rolls her eyes. “Believe it or not Arthur, I know my job. Men are on their way to her house, the bunker and Jody Mills house.”

“Good. I want to see him suffer and play a bit with him before we turn them into perfect soldiers.” Ketch snickers outside the base. Ready to leave his eyes widen as six cars speed toward the gate.

“Toni! Alert the guards.” Ketch gasps running toward the Impala but you are already hacking the door to let the hunters in. “You have some guts, Winchesters, I must admit. Nice move, thank you for coming to us instead of letting us hunt you down.”

“You’re welcome, asshole. I suggest you go down on your knees and lick the ground before I plant a bullet to your brain.” Dean retorts and Ketch starts grinning.

“I suggest you look at your chest.” A red dot appears on Dean’s, Sam’s, and your chest. A trap…a goddamn trap. It was too good to be true…

“Who is the traitor?” You ask.

“Sean was busy telling us all about your nice, little plan, Y/N. I’m sure your friends are dead by now. How about another game, Dean? Let’s play…Sammy or Y/N this time.” Ketch snickers and Dean gasps.

“You’ve got to be kidding me, sick bastard.” Dean snarls through gritted teeth.

“Not at all. Choose, twenty seconds, the clock is ticking. Same rules, choose one, the other dies. Choose none…both die…” Smirking Ketch looks at Dean’s shocked features. He can see desperation spread out all over the hunter’s face.

“Choose, Y/N. Dean, just choose her.” Sam says and you shake your head. “No, Sammy…no. Dean, look at me. I love you but you and Sammy, you need to keep on fighting. Do it…choose Sam, please. Just choose your brother.” You sniffle and Dean’s hands start shaking.

“I can’t…” The hunter chokes out. “I can’t choose…”

“Dean, choose Y/N…please.” Sam tries once again.

“Five seconds left, Dean…” Ketch chuckles.

“Dean, please…choose Sam…just do it. I know you love me, prove it by respecting my decision.”

“Time’s up. Your decision, Dean.”

“Sammy…” Dean whispers and not a blink later a bullet hits your chest. Red liquid leaves your body and you fall to the ground.

With shaking hands Dean runs toward you as Ketch motions the snipers to leave the roof. His grin widens while Dean holds you in his arms. “I’m sorry.” He whispers and Ketch starts smiling but his smile fades as he sees you raising your hand, a gun aimed to his head and he curses before the bullet hits his forehead.

“You’ve got punk’d, asshole.” You chuckle.

“Damn, these bulletproof vests were a great idea, Baby.” Dean pants. “Good thing they didn’t aim the gun to our heads.”

“Shit didn’t think that far.” You tease. “Let’s meet up with Jody. Donna and Garth should’ve taken care of Sean by now. Traitor…”

----

“Sammy I must admit your and Y/N’s plan was, awesome. Tricking Sean by letting the other hunters go, hiding Donna and Garth in Jody’s truck…the bulletproof vests…true master achievement.” Dean praises and you grin at him.

“We still need to get the data and meet up with the others. Let’s hurry and kick some asses. It’s your turn to pay for food by the way.” You say running toward the building.

“Not fair, woman,” Dean mutters running after you.

“Will we talk about you choosing me over Y/N?” Sam mutters.

“It was her idea, Bitch. Y/N feared the vest might be too small for you, Sasquatch.”

“Still…you could’ve said something.”

Looking at his younger brother Dean’s features soften. Even knowing it was a trick it hit Sam hard seeing you getting hit by a bullet.

“I’m sorry, Sammy. It had to look ‘real’…now let’s hurry…”

----

“What shall we do with the data?” Jody asks glancing at all the information you stole at the BMOL headquarter. Every mission, every dirty detail is now in your hands.

“So far, I got no clue, Jody. These people are bastards but Ketch said they barely have any monsters in the UK. Maybe we keep this locked away as long as they never set a foot onto our ground again.”

“Were you able to delete our data?” Sam asks glancing at the laptop to check the information about monsters, weapons, and stuff.

“Everything according to us and other hunters got deleted. I stole some nice lore stuff for you. Might be handy on hunts.”

“A huge collection of data. Would you mind if I…” Sam trails of reading the first document. “Go ahead and have fun, Sammy. I’ve got a copy for every hunter.”

“What will happen to Sean?” Jody asks and you shrug. “Got no clue, Jody. We can’t trust him. He had the chance to stay out of this fight, but he chose to betray every hunter, he would’ve let them kill us, his friends and allies. Any suggestions?” You sigh.

“Kill him?” Dean mutters glancing at the handcuffed man in a chair in the library. Sean is furiously shaking his head, but Dean just gives him a dark glare.

“I could fake a crime. Sent him to jail for a while or we let every hunter know what he did. Donna, Garth and the others have connections. I have connections…just like you. Everyone will know what he did. Let him survive out there without a network helping him.” Jody suggests and you look at Dean.

“Your plan is even better. No one will help this piece of shit ever again. Within the next week, every hunter in the US will know what you did. You’ve got two options, run to your British friends or run from us for the rest of your life…your decision…” Dean chuckles glancing at Sean.

“What a collection.” Sam swoons and you smile at your friend’s enthusiasm.

“Dude, don’t orgasm about lore…” Dean chuckles and Sam glares at him. Giving him his cold bitch face.

“I don’t know about you all, but I’m beaten. I’m going to hit the hay.” Jody yawns.

“I prepared a room for you.”

“Thanks, Y/N.”

----

Three hours later you are still wide awake. Lying in Dean’s arms, on his bed you can’t find sleep.

“You okay?”

“It’s just…this is the first time I’m allowed to be in your room for longer than five minutes…feels odd.” You whisper.

“We can choose a new room to share if you want to. I want you to feel welcome. I want to start anew and do everything right this time.” Dean whispers as his lips ghost over your hair.

“Can we decide tomorrow. I’m so tired…tell me anything to make me fall asleep…but no dirty jokes…”

“Hmm…let’s see…when you were nineteen you changed clothes and I watched you. It was the first time I saw you almost completely nude. Every time I was with a girl I imagined you…”

“Pervert!” You mutter. “Should kick your ass! Playing Peeping Tom!”

“Did you never peek?”

“No…never…” You lie. Dean’s brows furrow and he looks at your flushed face. “You’re a pervert yourself…I knew it.”

“What? We lived in the bunker together. I wanted to have a shower and saw your naked ass…”

“I bet you got off to my cute ass.”

“Didn’t have the time. The next day I almost died…”

“I’m sorry…”

“But it’s a nice ass, Dean.”

“Wanna see it? Could strip for you.” Dean rasps.

“I’m tired, maybe tomorrow…”

“Sounds like a plan…”

Unrequited Tags

@tftumblin, @malfoysqueen14, @lysawayne, @bitchwhytho , @roonyxx , @peachesandberrys, @myownsnowflake, @wolfgirl-1981, @havlindzk, @racewife2004

Forever Tags

@donnaintx, @screechingartisancashbailiff, @fallen-wolf22, @sister-winchesters99, @mogaruke, @the-is13, @helloitsmeamie203, @strayrosesbloom, @thewinchesterco, @hobby27, @kittycatlover18, @gh0stgurl, @marvelfansworld , @sandlee44, @hawaiianohana31, @unlikelysamwinchesteronahunt, @katpatrova17, @notyourtypicalrose , @heyitscam99, @onethingthatkeepsmealive, @natura1phenomenon, @flamencodiva, @echoesofpassion, @cocklesbelli, @voltage-my2dlove, @fandom-princess-forevermore, @thenamelesschibi, @lauravic, @fandomsrourlives, @wittysunflower, @drakelover78, @lemondropirwin, @lonewolf471, @wronglanemendes, @electraphygelectraphyng , @spnhollis, @void-imaginations, @jay-and-dean, @shatteredabby , @juniorhuntersam, @helpmeluci, @neii3n, @goodgodimaweirdperson, @alltimesamantha, @chonisberonica, @supernaturalonice @stuckys-whore, @shadowkat-83, @officialmarvelwhore, @certaindeanwinchesterforcastiel, @wecantgiggleitsafandom, @meganywinchester, @shikshinkwon, @miraclesoflove, @yolobloggers,@guardian-tn, @lu-sullivan, @maniacproffesor, @hollymac79, @straycuties9, @destieladdict-221b, @kayla-2000, @ilovefanfic86, @gracefultrenchcoat494, @babygirls-fav, @sadn0va

If your name is crossed out Tumblr won’t let me tag you for some reason. Sorry.

Dean/Jensen Forever Tags

@spnfamily-j2, @supernatural-bellawinchester, @butifulsoul125, @lyinginthegingerlocks, @deans-baby-momma, @hawaiianohana31, @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester, @20gayneen, @janicho88, @thefaithfulwriter, @dreaminemz, @negans-lucille-tblr @sadwaywardkid, @akshi8278, @hhiggs, @midnightsilver16830, @mrspeacem1nusone, @ria132love, @caligraphee, @the-witch-in-silence, @multisuperfandom, @deansgirl-1968, @justanotherwinchester, @jadesupernatural

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providentially-demonic · 4 years

Text

Miraculous Mystery Skulls: Chapter Nine

First Arc: a Spellcaster, a Ghost and a Mechanic walk into a bar Paris

Summary: On their honeymoon in Paris, the City of Lights, the trio of Vivi, Lewis and Arthur encounter more than sightseeing… in the form of monsters, supervillains and a pair of teen superheroes. Sometimes, miraculous things can happen, when you least expect it.

(A Mystery Skulls/Miraculous Ladybug crossover event)

A/N: This all started with this fic by @phantoms-lair and the silly idea of them running into Chat Noir and Ladybug while there. It grew…

It’s a tale of heroes, miraculous, found family and more (with a healthy dose of puns). Co-created and written with assistance from @phantoms-lair, so she deserves some of the credit and a lot of the blame! :P

As a reminder: This was written pre-season three. It follows canon until about mid-season two, where it veers wildly AU. As such, things that happened in season three are not compliant to the canon of this tale.

Back to Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine: A Disaster in the Making

Renewed screams filled the air over the ceaseless grinding of stone. Marinette clung grimly to Alya as the earth shook itself apart again. The rumble of stone, the groans of overstressed metal and the shrieks of both people and alarms filled all her senses, a cacophony of destruction.

And then it was over, the groaning of the ground in pain subsiding into silence. The screams continued, but even those were tapering off. This time Alya did not stop her from rising to her feet. The ground felt unsteady under her, and it took her a moment to realize her legs were shaking with fear and adrenaline. “We— we’ve never had an earthquake like that here!”

Ayla shook her head. “They’re not normal for here. We lived through a few before we moved to Paris, but—” She gazed at the destruction, her hands clenched into fists. “I— I need to go. The twins are probably terrified. I don’t know if Nora will be able to calm them down.” She jumped a foot in the air with a squeal of fright as her phone warbled in her pocket. Fumbling, she pulled it out. “Mama! Are you okay?”

Marinette could just hear the reply. “I’m fine, love, the Hotel barely even trembled. But the zoo animals are in a panic and your father will likely be there all night. I need you to run home and check on Nora and the girls, please.” There was very real worry in her voice. “Nora’s not answering her phone.”

“I was just about to head there.” After saying goodbye to her mother, Alya stuffed her phone back in her pocket. “I gotta go, Marinette, sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Marinette patted her shoulder. “I need to go check on Mama and Papa at the bakery too. Be careful.”

“You too!”

Marinette darted away to find a place to transform. While she couldn't be sure this was an Akuma attack, there were things she could do as Ladybug that she couldn't as Marinette. Finding a place in an alley, she called her Mother's cell phone.

It had barely rung before Sabine's relieved voice answered. "Marinette! Are you okay?"

"Fine, Mama, really. Are you and Papa okay?"

"We are. A little shaken up and one of the display cases cracked, but nothing major. Your father is in the basement cutting off the gas just in case. Where are you?"

"With Alya," Marinette assured her. "She's worried about the twins and can't get hold of Nora so she's headed there."

"Be careful, please. There could be more aftershocks and..."

"I will, Mama."

~~~~

“Help me, please.” The cry was weak, but Ladybug heard it and turned on her heel. The street had suffered from the earthquake, parts of it rucked up like crumpled paper, and some parts sinking from subsidence. The plea came from near one of the cars that had slid sideways and sunk as the earth under it had done as well. She rushed over, to find a young man on the broken curb, obviously having fallen during the disturbance of the earth. He was half under the car, unable to free himself with the weight of the car pinning him in place.

Crouching by his side, Ladybug assessed the situation. “Hang on,” she soothed. “I’ll get you out of there.”

His nod was trusting. Ladybug rose to her feet and went to the nearest lamppost, testing its stability. Satisfied that it would hold, she looped the string of her yoyo over it and, mentally glad that she had inherited her mother’s slim build, squirmed as much of her upper body under the car until she could touch the pinned man. She pressed her yoyo into his hand. “When I come back around to your side, pass this back to me.”

“Okay.”

Eeling back out, she returned to his side, where he painfully worked the arm with the yoyo out from under the car. Pinned as he was, he couldn’t get it free of the curb entirely, but she was able to reach it. With one last reassuring smile, she left him to loop the yoyo string carefully around the post of the light. Taking a deep breath, she threw her weight against it. It moved, and encouraged, she redoubled her efforts.

With a groan of overstressed metal, the car shifted. She was about to try and reach a broken fence to anchor her string when a familiar voice called out, “Hold it steady, Milady. I’ve got him.”

Relieved, she maintained tension on the string until Chat’s cheerful voice assured her that he had gotten the victim free. Breathing a relieved sigh, she let go the tension on the string and tried to massage the ache in her fingers away. Retracting the yoyo, she hurried to Chat’s side. He had already gotten the man’s cell phone out and was calling emergency services.

She leaned close enough to listen, hearing the operator’s assurances that they would have an ambulance dispatched very soon. He also confided that while damages were extensive, casualties from the shake had been surprisingly light.

Chat shook his head, but only thanked the dispatcher and gave the phone back to the injured man so he could tell the dispatcher about his injuries.

When they were out of earshot of the injured man, Ladybug put a hand on Chat’s bicep. “What is it?”

He cocked his head to the left. “I came from that way. Three streets over, there’s zero damage. The closer I came this way, the more damage there is.” He pointed up the street. “When I was vaulting this way, I could see a lot of the damage, It gets worse, that direction.”

Ladybug nodded. “Then that’s the way we go.”

Chat slipped an arm around her waist and vaulted them both up to the top of the nearest tall building, pointing at the swatch of destruction. “Pretty sure that’s not normal for an earthquake, Milady.”

Pressing her lips into a thin line, Ladybug shook her head grimly. From this high up, she could see a clear delineation, a line where on one side were damaged, listing buildings and plumes of smoke from fires, but on the other, nothing... no sign of damage at all. She tracked the line of destruction, noting Chat’s observations were right. Flinging her yoyo, she took off for the area where the destruction worsened. Chat was right on her heels.

They had barely gone two blocks when a voice frantically hailed them. A familiar one!

Nadja Chamak stood on a corner, a frightened Manon balanced on her hip and tucked tightly against her side. Nadja had only one shoe on, her stockings were in tatters, and her smart black skirt was ripped high up on her thigh, showing a bloody welt. One cheek was scraped badly and Manon was trying her best to hold a wad of tissue to her mother’s cheek while tears ran down her own.

Little Manon was powdered with dust and both her knees were scraped and bruised. Fat tears poured down her cheeks and she was biting her bottom lip as she struggled to staunch the blood seeping from her mother’s badly scratched cheek.

Ladybug dropped down to the pavement. “Ms. Chamak! Are you badly hurt?”

Nadja shook her head, earning a sniffle from Manon as fresh blood seeped when she moved. “Don’t worry about me! You have to get to the studio! It’s Gerard! My cameraman— he— he was arguing with one of the producers about all news crews needing additional hazard pay for Akuma attacks. They said no, that you always fixed things, and he got mad. He stormed away and I followed him as far as the bathroom door. I— I saw the butterfly go after him. He’s calling himself Disaster Caster now. He’s the one that caused the earthquake!”

Ladybug nodded. “Chat, get Ms. Chamak and Manon over to where the ambulance should be and get them taken care of. Then meet me at the studio.”

“Your wish is my command, Milady. Will you—” He hesitated, glancing at the reporter. “Will you call in reinforcements?”

She didn’t want to, not with the memory of last night clear in her mind, but she nodded. “We might need them. Ms. Chamak, I know you want to be on the scene, but you’re already hurt and Manon needs you, so please go with Chat.”

Nadja held her daughter tighter. “I’m not going to fight you on this one. Manon comes first.” She wobbled over to Chat, making it clear it was only pure will that had kept her on her feet so long and Chat slid his arm around her waist, preparing to vault back the way they had come.

Nadja hesitated and looked back at Ladybug. “Just help Gerard. It’s not his fault. He really was trying to help all of us.”

“I know.” Ladybug hastened to reassure. “We’ll help him, I promise.”

Nadja nodded and wrapped her free arm around Chat’s shoulders. He nodded at Ladybug and vaulted the three of them back the way they had come. The last thing she heard was his voice reassuring Manon that they’d get her mom fixed right up. Drawing a deep breath, she sent off a quick text to Vivi before heading for the studio at the center of the destruction.

The newly dubbed Disaster Caster was hard to miss. He stood perched on a massive spar of rebar that jutted a good ten feet above the buckled pavement, whatever he had been wearing before now transformed into a form-fitting suit of bright silver and black. His face was covered by a mirrored visor in an oddly-shaped helmet, one that seemed far larger than it should be, and he wore something on his back that resembled nothing so much as a backpack made of gleaming metal to match his suit.

He stared wordlessly down at a gaggle of battered studio executives huddled together in the ruins of the studio’s lobby, their sleek, high-end suits in ragged tatters. All of them were bloody and bruised, looking more like the losing end of a prizefight than high-powered television executives.

Ladybug landed silently on the roof of an only slightly lop-sided building, studying the situation. A soft thump on the roof behind her let her know her partner had made good time in returning to her side. “”What are we looking at, milady?”

“He’s got a group trapped in the rubble. He’s not making any move to hurt them any more than they already are, but I’m afraid that’ll only last so long. Especially if one of them says something to inflame his anger.” She reported quietly, watching for one of the hostages to do something to draw Disaster Caster’s wrath.

Suddenly, that mirrored visor turned their way. “And the main attraction has arrived,” said a mechanical sounding voice. “Going to save the day and fix everything, just like you always do? I rather think not.”

Suddenly the reason for the odd shape of his helmet became all too clear, as thin cracks opened in neat rows along the sides, a dozen spindly metal limbs folding out, and out, each one ending in a glassy looking bezel that it took her a moment to place. Lenses. Each of the metal arms ended in a tiny camera. The effect was rather disturbing, like a massive spider centered on that blank mirrored visor, perched where a human head should be.

Beside her, Chat briefly convulsed in a full-body shiver. “Okay, is it just me or are Hawkmoth’s Akumas getting creepier?”

He wasn’t wrong. Disaster Caster was like something out of a nightmare, far scarier looking than most Akuma. The camera arms whirred and clicked, stretching out further.

“Nevermind those who get hurt in your fights. No need, after all, not when you can wash the hurts away in a tide of ladybugs.” Disaster Caster said, the robotic voice never rising above a conversational monotone. “Maybe it’s time you suffer some of those hurts, see how they feel, and I’ll broadcast your suffering to the whole city.”

A darkly glowing butterfly symbol briefly obscured part of that mirrored visor. “I agree, Hawkmoth. I’ll take their miraculouses and let them understand the pain they inflict upon the citizens of Paris.” He lifted one hand, and a spidery arm reached from the backpack to deposit something in his palm.

“Oh, yes,” Ladybug could hear the sudden smile in Disaster Caster’s voice. “That will do nicely. I’ll flood the airwaves with your defeat.” He crushed whatever it was in his hand.

“We’re shaking, Chrome Cast,” Chat laughed. “Is that supposed to sca—”

His voice was drowned out by a wall of water roaring towards them. Cars, people, trees, bits of buildings were all swept up in the surging, frothing monster bearing down on where they stood. The wave was taller than the roof of their building, blocking out the Parisian skyline and throwing the whole area into murky green gloom.

Chat’s ears flattened and he grabbed Ladybug by the waist and extended his baton as far as it would go, aiming for the higher roof of the studio. He almost made it.

The water crashed against his baton, slamming it sideways. For a moment there was only the breathless sensation of falling. Then Ladybug’s yoyo snapped out and wrapped around one of the satellites on the roof and yanked them out of range of the maelstrom that surged below.

Ladybug’s breath was harsh in her throat and she was shaking when they landed. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the frothing waters below and the helpless bodies tumbling in it. “No...”

Chat’s hand caught her cheek and gently turned her to face him. “Focus, Milady. The sooner we defeat him, the sooner you can save everyone!”

She sucked in a breath that sounded suspiciously like a sob. “R-right.” She straightened up and searched for the Akuma. Several of those spidery metallic legs had extended from Disaster Caster’s backpack and held him motionless against the wall of a building, separated from their position by a wide swath of murky, tumbling water.

Chat crouched beside her on the edge of the building, glaring across at their opponent. “I’m going to bet the Akuma is in that backpack thing of his.”

“Not going to bet against you, kitty.” Ladybug frowned at the distance between them. “The question is how do we get close enough to find out?”

Chat gave her a sharp-toothed grin that was a pale shadow of his usual teasing one. “Up for a game of catball special?”

She turned her frown on Chat. “I’m not chucking you at him!”

“Better me than you, Milady.”

“Better neither of you when you know someone who can actually fly.” The voice came from behind them. Lewis hovered just above the roof they perched on, Vivi and Arthur held in either arm.

He alighted to let the two in his arms down.

Ladybug couldn’t help a critical look at Arthur. He looked haggard under the mask, but there was a set to his mouth that told her he’d never agree to sitting things out, not while his spouses were here.

Chat obviously wanted to ask if he was alright, but held his tongue at the look on Arthur’s face.

“He’s calling himself Disaster Caster,” Ladybug reported instead of the concerned words that wanted to escape. “It’s an accurate enough name, since he’s the one who caused the earthquake and—” her voice shook a little. “This.”

Vivi was already peering over the edge of the building at the Akumatized man. “Elemental manipulation?”

“I don’t know if I’d call it that,” Arthur put in, staying well clear of where his wife leaned precariously over the balustrade. “I’d hesitate to call any of Hawkmoth’s creations anything so normal.”

“Good point.” Vivi frowned down at Disaster Caster. “Those are cameras, is he filming?”

“Probably,” Chat joined her at the edge of the roof. “He was a news crew cameraman before he got Akumatized for wanting better pay for hazardous working conditions... aka during Akuma attacks.”

“That’s a fair request.” Lewis said. Like Arthur, he stayed back from the edge. “I take it his higher-ups didn’t agree.”

“RIght on the money.” Chat agreed. “We think the Akuma is in his backpack. It’s where he got whatever it was he used to create this flood.”

There was a suggestion of a smile in Lewis’s voice. “It’s probably not fireproof.” He held up one bone-plated hand, wreathed in purple flames.

“Easy there, big guy,” Arthur held up his metal hand. “Hawkmoth has seen your fire, so there’s every chance it will be. Even if it’s not fireproof, look at what he’s done already. No shortage of water to damp the fire.”

“Heads up!” Vivi called. “He’s on the move!”

Ladybug joined Vivi and Chat at the railing. Disaster Caster was spidering up the side of the building across from them, those thin metal legs from his backpack finding purchase easily. He lifted a hand to his visor and all at once, the lenses at the end of each limb of his helmet dropped loose, tumbling toward the frothing water below. Before they reached it, though, each suddenly sprouted a pair of dragonfly-like wings, lifting them high above the buildings. Two of them zeroed in on the roof where they stood, hovering above them like bizarre metallic insects.

“There you are.”

They backed away from the edge, keeping their eyes on the little cameras.

“”No getting away from being broadcast to all of Paris, Ladybug. They don’t want to miss this. It’ll be a hail of a bad time for you, though.”

On cue, clouds filled the sky, rumbling and malignant. Coin-sized bits of ice began to rain down on them.

“Really?” Chat asked, propping one hand on his hip and grinning ferally up at one of the cameras. “Puns are my department.”

“Not the time, kitty!” Ladybug chided.

As if in response, the chunks of ice kept getting larger, hitting hard enough to bounce and leave dents in the roof. Lewis flung up a shield of flames, shrouding them in hissing steam as the hailstones met the fire.

Vivi chortled evilly, stepping out of the shelter of the flames. “You really are a disaster, aren’t you? Giving a master of ice, ammunition.” She held up both hands, palms upward. “To use against you...”

Ladybug watched in awe as the falling ice chunks, now the size of softballs, stopped in midair.

Vivi, still smiling a dangerous smile, tipped her hands forward, pointing them down at the Akuma. “Sic ‘em!”

The ice streaked away from them, heading for Disaster Caster. Two pieces hit him before he got his wits about him and slapped at the side of his visor. Like a mirage, the roil of clouds and the hailstones vanished.

“Aww, doncha wanna play with me anymore? I’m hurt.”

"Hon, what have we said about antagonizing the bad guys?" Lewis chided.

"That I should do it more often?"

Chat stifled a laugh while Lewis rolled spectral eyes at Vivi's antics.

"I do not want to fight you. It is Ladybug and Chat Noir who need to understand the suffering they cause to the citizens of Paris." Disaster Caster, now perched on the rooftop opposite them, stared at them through the expressionless visor.

"Um, have you looked around lately, bucko?" Vivi retorted. "Your mental parasite over there is the one creating the suffering."

Hawkmoth's glowing mask occluded Disaster Caster's visor for a moment. "If you would simply hand over your Miraculous, no one would have to suffer at all." Disaster Caster said after it had faded.

"Like anyone is going to buy that." Vivi grinned, as fey an expression as Ladybug had ever seen. "And you pick on one of us and you get all of us coming to hand you your ass. Hear me, Hawkbutt?"

Her reply was Disaster Caster calling another object from his pack. He crushed it in his fist. “Let’s blow the slate clean, shall we?”

For a second, there was nothing, then an eerie sound split the air, one she couldn’t identify but that instinctively set Ladybug’s teeth on edge.

Arthur was the first to react, shoving Ladybug and Chat Noir closer to Lewis. “Down!” Under his mask, his face was grim and bloodless. Vivi was right behind him, her lips pressed into a tight, thin line.

Lewis’s glowing eyes had narrowed to pinpricks and he put himself between them and the meager shelter of a doorway into the building below. "͜͜S̶̨t͏a̷̸̧y͟͞ ̵D̷̨̡ǫ̵w͘n̕!̨"͢ Lewis growled, hands clenched into burning fists at his sides. His glowing hair flickered at the first touch of a wind that quickly rose to a shrill scream.

Ladybug clutched Chat’s arm. She’d never seen anything like the massive vortex of wind screaming down at them, greenish lightning crackling where it emerged from the black clouds; lighting the rooftop in a hellish glare.

Lewis braced himself, flames curling around his hands like a living thing. Pink fire surged around them, rising into a vortex that ran counter to the spinning winds of the tornado. Lewis’s feet slid apart and he leaned forward, like he was throwing his weight into something. Ladybug thought if he’d had a jaw, it would have been clenched in concentration. He pushed his hands out and the fiery shield around them expanded, pushing back at the wall of wind. "Ai̡r̕ ̧f̴ę́͞è̵͡ds͟ ͘͞f̢͢͞i͢͝r͏e͡,̸̧͢"҉ he snarled, flames surging higher.

Ladybug’s relief was short-lived when Chat’s claws dug into her wrist. She followed the gaze of his widened eyes to where the bottom of the funnel nearly touched the water still surrounding the building. Water to put out Lewis's protective wall! Hoping it would be something she could figure out in seconds, Ladybug flung her yoyo upwards. “Lucky Charm!”

A red-spotted crossbow, foam-ended dart already nocked into place, dropped into her waiting hands. “Really?” She glared down at the useless thing, fingers tightening almost painfully around it. “What am I supposed to do with a toy?! Even if it could get through the winds, what’s this gonna do?” She almost screamed with frustration, strangling down the sound before it could escape.

“Ladylove, you can do this.” Chat reassured quietly in her ear, his hands tight around her shoulders. “You know you can.”

Gulping a painful breath, she nodded, forcing herself to look around for inspiration. Her attention fell on Lewis, holding the shrieking winds at bay and her resolve strengthened. Her gaze darted to Arthur, then to the right, alighting on a length of hollow steel pipe torn loose from its mooring, and then across the wall of winds at Disaster Caster. Her eyes fastened on the small scratch on his visor. It was desperate and foolish, and if it didn’t work, she was all out of options. “Chat, I need that pipe. Arthur, how’s your throwing arm?”

Chat scrambled for the long pipe while Arthur shot her a confused look. “Not too bad. My mechanical arm has fluid hydraulics, so I can get a pretty good distance with it. But throwing anything into that...” He gestured helplessly at the howling winds,

She forced her spine to straighten. “I have a plan.”

Chat returned with the pipe and she passed it to Arthur, who hefted it uncertainly. “What’s the plan?” he asked.

She turned her attention to Lewis. “I need height for this. Can I use your shoulders?”

Lewis didn’t turn his attention from the struggle to hold the line, giving Ladybug a single, tight nod.

She vaulted easily up to his shoulders, finding her balance on the broad expanse. Crouching, she spoke softly to Lewis. “Trust me.”

One lambent eye flickered in her direction and he gave her a second nod.

“When I give the word, drop the shield and give me one solid blast,” She flicked a finger in the direction of Disaster Caster. “I need you to disrupt the winds just enough for Arthur to chuck that pipe.”

Lewis’s gaze touched on Arthur and Vivi. “I’m trusting you to keep them safe.” His tone lost that echo and was full of concern. “And yourselves.”

She couldn’t let any doubt show. ”I will.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Ladybug saw the water being sucked into the bottom of the funnel and knew her time had just run out. “Now!”

Lewis dropped the swirling fire shield, wind shrieking around them. With every bit of fire he had, he flung a singular inferno blast at the wall of raging wind between them and Disaster Caster.

Arthur didn’t hesitate, launching the pipe like a javelin into the disruption in the winds. It flew straight and true, and Ladybug used Lewis's shoulders to vault into the air, tracking on the pipe. She only had one chance at this and she didn’t dare blow it. Her whole world narrowed to the pipe in front of her and the trigger in her hands. She could almost sense when the end of the pipe punched through the outer wall of wind. In a moment of crystal clarity, it all snapped into place and she pulled the trigger.

The dart sailed through the pipe, safe from the fury of the winds and exited beyond the gale. It hit just where she had aimed, that tiny mark she had seen Disaster Caster slap before. The tornado vortex vanished like the hailstorm before it.

The silence was deafening after the scream of the winds until bits of debris that had been caught in the gale began to clatter back down, hitting rooftops or splashing into the receding surge of water the vortex had begun to draw up. Ladybug landed softly beside Lewis, the lucky charm dangling loosely in shaking fingers.

Vivi whooped and yanked Arthur and Chat into a hug.

Lewis went to one knee, his flames dimming and Ladybug knew the battle had drained too much of his energy. She dropped beside him. “Are you—?”

There was a hint of a smile in his strange eyes. “I’ll manage. Can you get to him before he calls up something else?”

“Right.” Ladybug threw herself for the edge of the roof, her yoyo stretching out for purchase on the other building. She was acutely conscious she only had limited time left before her transformation dropped.

Disaster Caster was waiting for her, perched on the side of a chimney like some sort of twisted spider. Her feet hit the roof and she flung herself at him, hoping she could finish this quickly. He easily scaled higher before she could reach him.

She never saw it coming. Suddenly pain exploded across her side, flinging her to the tiles. A second impact flung her farther and she rolled to soften the impact, scrabbling for her scattered wits. She made it to cover behind a broken staircase, pressing one hand against the ache in her side. Her suit protected her from the worst of it, but that had hurt!

What had hit her? Disaster Caster had been too far away to reach her, even with those long spidery legs.

There was a thump beside her and Chat grabbed her, yanking her to one side. “Look out, Milady!” His baton whirred through the air to knock something small and fast back.

Ladybug finally managed to bring her yoyo up as a shield, allowing her a glimpse at what had attacked her. Those little spy cameras! They hovered around her and Chat like a swarm of angry metallic hornets.

Chat blocked one with his baton and growled under his breath. “He’s getting away.”

Sure enough, Disaster Caster was using the distraction of the drone cameras to scramble away over the rooftops, moving far too fast on those spindly metal legs. Ladybug knocked two of the cameras back and took off after him, Chat hot on her heels, and covering her back with swings of his baton. Her earrings beeped their first warning and she pushed her speed, trying to catch up to him before she ran out of time.

The spy-cameras regrouped in front of them, buzzing down in lightning fast attacks and forcing them to slow and dodge. The little cameras were damnably fast and every hit they scored stung fiercely. Disaster Caster kept getting farther away with every attack and Ladybug’s earring beeped two more warnings before she lost sight of him entirely. She paused in the shelter of a staircase, panting and furious at herself for being unable to reach him. Chat landed beside her and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, warning softly, “Ladylove, we have to get you away from here so you can detransform safely and let Tikki recharge!”

“But—” she protested angrily.

“Shhh. As soon as we get you safely away from those things, I’ll get back on his track. I haven’t used Cataclysm yet, so I have time still. At the very least, I’m a purr-fect distraction.” His grinned at her, raising an eyebrow.

The familiarity of his joking dragged a weak laugh out of her. “Okay, Kitty. You win.”

Turning away from the direction Disaster Caster had gone, she flung out her yoyo and headed for a part of the city where she knew there were sheltered rooftop gardens to give her cover while she was vulnerable. Chat followed at a short distance, keeping watch for the cameras, which seemed to have lost interest when she stopped chasing after their master.

At the last second she landed, tumbling a little as her transformation gave out before she was safely down. She wrapped herself around Tikki, willing to take a bruise of two for the sake of her Kwami.

Chat caught her before she hit, a warm arm around her waist stopping her from faceplanting on the roof. Still cradling Tikki, she looked up into his concerned green eyes. “I’m okay, Kitty.”

He nodded and pulled her against his chest, Tikki tucked safely between them. “Get out of sight and take care of Tikki. I’ll stay on his trail.” He pulled her into the shelter of a vine-covered arbor.

She freed one hand and reached up to cup his cheek. “Be careful, my kitty. I’m pretty sure he still has tricks up his sleeves.”

Chat leaned into her touch. “Don’t worry about me, princess. This cat still has tricks of his own.” He bent to steal a breathtaking kiss, leaving her flushed and red. Dropping a second kiss on the tip of her nose, he saluted with two fingers and leapt away.

Still blushing, Marinette dug in her purse for cookies for Tikki. The quicker they recharged, the faster they could take down Disaster Caster.

Her phone chirped a message and she fumbled for it. Who—?

V: Where are you two?

Vivi! Marinette hurried to type back. CN still on DC’s trail. LB had to recharge. Will be back in game soon.

It was safest to not use names or refer to anything too personal. There was always a chance of another electronics based Akuma, like Lady Wifi, could get into personal info through phones. Her communicator amd Chat’s were secure but she could trust nothing else to be. But sometimes concern won out over caution. How is Ghost? She tapped out, knowing Vivi would know who she meant. Fight took a lot out of them.

The dots that indicated typing popped up almost before she had finished. Recouping. Will be back in fight soon too. F and UKS on foot now that floodwaters gone. Z is eyes in the sky.

It took Marinette a solid minute to parse it out. Oh, F had to mean Vivi and the temporary name of Frost she had given herself and UKS had to be Arthur and his pun of a name. Zippi was acting as lookout.

Stay safe, she texted back, and glanced over at where Tikki was finishing off the last few bites of a cookie that had been larger than she was. Tikki wiped crumbs off her face and nodded. Relieved she could get back out there, Marinette called the magic, and took off after her partner as fast as her yoyo would carry her.

She heard the fight before she saw it, and her heart crawled up in her throat. She knew that sound. Knew it too well. It had nearly cost her Chat Noir once before, that crackle of unharnessed electricity and the roar of superheated air that followed so closely after it that it was almost a single continuous sound. The hair on the back of her neck stood up and the smell of ionized air stuck in the back of her throat like ash.

It had only been her Lucky Charm that had kept lightning from frying her kitty before and right now, he was on his own against an electrical storm that lit the sky with dazzling radiance. Her blood ran cold. She needed to get to him before—

The air screamed. A bolt of lightning, brighter than any she had seen before, tore the sky asunder. The roar that followed vibrated her teeth in her skull, and caused the roof under her flying feet to tremble.

She pushed herself faster. Please, she prayed under her breath. Please, please, please don’t use your baton, Kitty. The metal would act as a conductor, carrying millions of volts straight into her partner’s flesh.

She didn’t see it coming. Something scorched the roof under her feet and brutally threw her back. She collided hard with a railing and nearly went over it before a clawed hand closed painfully tight around her wrist and yanked her back to safety against a heaving chest. “That was rather electrifying, Milady!”

“Chat,” She could breathe again. Her hands came up to clutch his biceps, digging in hard enough to reassure herself that he was there, was okay. And then she threw both of them into a tumbling roll across the roof, as lightning seared where they had been black.

Chat bounced to his feet, tugging her up after him. “Shocking development, you falling for me.”

She whipped them around and out of the way of another finger of lightning that blistered the tiles where they had just been. “Is this really the time?”

He grinned, dropping to all fours and darting a crazy, zig-zagging path across the roof, flickers of lightning splintering all around him, but unable to catch him. “C’mon, Milady! I am amped for this lightshow! I have a full volt of puns.” he teased breathlessly. “Let me conduct a few your way!”

She snorted at him, and bounced away from a bolt that arced over the rail where she had just been perched. “Just no grounding you, is there, Kitty?”

His green eyes glittered and Chat barked a startled, delighted laugh. He sprang for her and whirled them both out of the path of another volley of lightning. “I knew my puns would rub off on you, Milady!”

Ladybug wrapped her arm around his waist and used her yoyo to vault them to another roof. “Oh, now that was bad, Chat!”

“Have no ampere, my Lady. I have zingers for days!” Chat leapt away from her, his voice turning taunting. “Watt’s the matter, Caster? You currently running out of juice? What a kilo-joy!”

“Aren’t you just full of spark, kid?” A laughing voice called.

Ladybug whipped her head around. Lewis, Arthur and Vivi in either arm, hovered just above the level of the roof. He looked a little transparent, but his fiery eyes were full of determination.

Lewis had to dodge a bolt a split-second later, and shot a vicious glare at where Disaster Caster was perched on a different roof. “He’s really starting to get on my nerves.”

“Not terribly shocked, big guy,” Arthur chided while Vivi giggled softly. “It’s a bit of a revolting development.”

“Don’t make me drop you.”

Chat snickered.

Lewis came in close, though he didn’t land. “We need to take the storm out of play,” Arthur said. “I have an idea for that, but it’ll only hold until he switches tacks.”

Ladybug skipped away from another finger of lightning. “Willing to risk it. I’m not fond of the idea of getting electrocuted.”

Arthur’s mouth set in a firm line. “Okay. new game plan. Big guy, find a sheltered spot to put me down. Ladybug, Chat, keep playing keep away from the lightning. I’ll need to borrow Chat’s baton, though.”

If a ghost could be said to go pale, Lewis managed it, his skeletal face horror-stricken. “No—!”

“Not time for debate, love,” Arthur’s grim face and raised hand stopped the protest. “As long as I’m not in the direct line of fire, I’ll be okay, Rubber-soled shoes. Handy in a garage, invaluable in the here and now.”

“Ar—” Ladybug cut herself off. “It’s dangerous, even so. You can’t dodge the lightning like Chat and I.”

The laugh that answered her was humorless. “Trust me, I’m a shaking wreck inside, but I can have a panic attack later.” His amber eyes met hers through the mask, fey and sending a shiver down her spine. “Protecting people I care for comes before anything else.” He turned his head away, focusing that unnerving look on Lewis. “How you holding up? Good enough to conjure up something?”

“What do you need?” Lewis’s voice was flat with only a hint of that disturbing otherness to give away his distress.

“Copper wire, as much as you can manage.”

“You can’t ground out an electrical storm!” Vivi grabbed the front of Arthur’s shirt, white-knuckled.

Arthur carefully disengaged her fingers. “No, but I can ground out enough of the lightning to give us a chance to get through.”

“I don’t like this plan.”

“Join the club.”

Another volley of lightning hit the rooftop, forcing them all to dodge.

“No time like the present, big guy,” Arthur’s voice was strained.

Chat hissed but turned his attention to mocking the Akuma, “Your bad aim is shocking. You aren’t even trying! Really are a disaster, aren’t you?”

He had to move fast to avoid the next round of lightning.

Her eyes on Chat, as usual, trying to take blows for her, Ladybug lost sight of the other three.

For several moments, there was no room for thought, only the need to keep one jump ahead of the deadly bolts searing the roofs around them.

“Baton!” Arthur’s voice shouted from somewhere to her left.

Chat’s baton went one way and he went the other, only just managing to let go of the metal before lightning found them both.

The baton skittered away across the roof tiles, sparking with residual energy from the strike. Ladybug heard Arthur cursing under his breath, but had no attention to spare for him as she yanked Chat out of the way of another strike that came so close she could feel her hair standing on end. The suits could protect them somewhat, but she wasn’t willing to find out the extent.

Ladybug rolled them out of the path of another strike, this one arcing along the railing beside them, leaving the metal twisted and warped in its wake.

Ladybug yelped and struck out violently when something touched her arm. She twisted and found herself looking into the mournful yellow eyes of a deadbeat. It chirred softly and vanished. She felt it ease into her mind— but it wasn’t trying to control her. Images came into her thoughts of her own hands winding wire around a part of the building’s superstructure, making sure the wire was in contact with the metal supports. She saw the baton extended, channeling the lightning into the building’s metal structure and away from them, giving them the chance to get to Disaster Caster before he could change tactics.

It was a sound plan, even if she didn’t like how much danger Arthur was putting himself in to give them the chance. She got a sense of wry agreement from the deadbeat and an image of Lewis standing by to yank him out of danger. That eased her worries a bit and she gave her wordless assent to the plan. She felt the deadbeat leave and found herself staring into the worried eyes of Chat, who had pulled them into the shelter of a satellite dish. “Milady?” he questioned warily. “Your eyes, they were pink!”

She touched his cheek. “I’m okay, Kitty. Lewis was letting me know Arthur’s plan through one of the deadbeats,” She peered out past the edge of the dish and spotted the coil of wire on the roof, not far away. “I need you to be on your toes and keep moving so Disaster Caster doesn’t have a chance to concentrate on me.”

Chat Noir shook himself a little before nodding. “You needn’t ask twice, Milady. I can be the purr-fect distraction, like I said.”

Ladybug smiled at him. “I know. I trust you. Just keep safe, my kitten.”

The smile he flashed her was bright. “On my honor.”

He bounded away, catcalling up at Disaster Caster. Ladybug had to look away from the streaks of white-hot electricity tearing up the roof barely a breath behind him. When Disaster Caster had turned all his attention (and that of his electrical storm) on Chat, she crept out of hiding, tucking and rolling to come up with the coil of copper wire in her hands. She muttered a soft prayer to anything that might be listening, be they Kwami or something else, to keep everyone safe and sprang into action.

With her yoyo, it was a matter of moments to wind the wire around the building, at last landing by a spot where the near-constant lightning strikes had bared a large chunk of the building’s metal superstructure. She eeled into the rubble and began working her wire around and around the steel rebar.

She could hear Chat’s mocking and the roar of superheated air and it was all she could do to keep her mind on the task at hand. At last she twisted the final coil of the wire into place. Ladybug pulled herself free of the debris and flung her yoyo. She had to be in the air and ready when it went down. “Now!” she called, her voice barely audible above the roar of thunder.

Arthur must have been waiting for it. Chat’s baton speared up into the stormy sky and the lightning jumped to it like iron filings to a magnet. Ladybug yanked hard on her string and sailed into the air, snagging up a panting Chat Noir as she did. She didn’t dare look for the others, hoping Lewis had gotten them safely out of the way. She had to stop Disaster Caster.

He was already moving, but she was faster, having been waiting for the moment. She launched Chat, who smoothly flipped in mid-air to drive his boots into Disaster Caster’s gut.

Disaster Caster reeled back, only the telescoping legs from his backpack keeping him from going over. Chat snarled in frustration and took a swipe with his claws at Disaster Caster’s mirrored visor. The Akuma wasn’t able to recover fast enough from the kick and Chat’s claws scored thin lines across the surface of the visor.

Ladybug looked up, startled, as the roar of thunder ceased, leaving her ears ringing with the cessation of the constant sound. Only a few wisps of cloud remained in the clearing sky. Chat’s attack had taken out the threat of the storm.

Disaster Caster staggered back another step, but one of his metal legs lashed out and hit Chat hard in the ribs, flinging him back. Chat landed in a crouch, but he was out of breath and pressed an arm across his ribs with a hiss of pain.

Ladybug swung in between them, her yoyo lashing out and cracking solidly across Disaster Caster’s visor. She rushed to pull Chat back to his feet, concerned at the grimace of pain. “Kitty?”

His grin was lopsided but he straightened up. “I’m okay, Milady. Only winded.”

“Are you sure?” She didn’t miss how he was favoring the spot where he’d been hit.

“He’s a disaster in more ways than one, Milady. I’m still good to go.”

Disaster Caster had used her distraction to get some distance on them, metal legs carrying him like a spider up the side of the next building over. Chat cursed under his breath, words she didn’t think Adrien even knew. “I’ll be honest, Milady, I’m more than ready to be done with this particular pain, though.”

“You and me both, Kitty.” Ladybug narrowed her eyes at the Akuma. “I think I know what we need to do.”

“What you need to do is stop fighting me and give up your miraculous. Then Paris will be safe.” Disaster Caster called.

“No one asked you,” Chat hissed.

“All this fighting is doing is hurting the people you claim to be here to protect.”

“And you think Hawkmoth would do better if he had our miraculous? He’s the one creating all the evil we have to fight against.”

"What if your refusal to give over your miraculous were to hurt someone you cared for?" Disaster Caster said. He raised one hand, palm up, and one of his little spy-cameras alighted in it.

"Wouldn't they be happier knowing you were out of danger and not fighting Akuma?" An image formed in the air above the little drone. Half hidden in a bower of greenery, it was a frozen tableau of Marinette in Chat's arms, tilting her face up to meet his passionate kiss. Ladybug flinched, though some part of her was objectively glad that Tikki was hidden between them. “Wouldn’t she be happier?” Disaster Caster coaxed.

Chat froze beside her, his green eyes blown so wide they were all pupil. His mouth opened but nothing emerged. Ladybug could feel his muscles vibrating with tension and his hands were clenched so tight she could hear the leather of his gloves creaking. While the fact that Disaster Caster had caught the picture concerned her, Chat’s reaction was more than a little frightening.

Ladybug touched his arm. “Kitty—?”

All that suppressed tension snapped at once and with a feral yowl, Chat flung himself in a mad leap toward Disaster Caster.

"You!" How a word that was all vowels could be hissed, Ladybug didn't know but Chat managed it.

Chat hit the wall next to the Akuma, claws sinking easily into the brick. His lips peeled back from his teeth in an infuriated growl. Ladybug could swear she saw fangs in his snarl. "How dare you?!"

Ladybug swung after Chat, stunned by the rage she saw in his green eyes. Before she could reach him, he had leapt at Disaster Caster. The Akuma tried to fend him off with two of the spider-like legs from his backpack, but Chat's claws made short work of them, shearing them off with quick swipes.

"How dare you?" he snarled again, his voice dropping to a register she had never heard from his mouth, a feral growl like the scream of a hunting cat.

Ladybug saw his claws crook to strike and for a second they appeared to glimmer with the first hint of his destructive power. The next word out of his mouth was a hissed "Cataclysm!"

His target was Disaster Caster's helmet and his hand hit it so hard it rocked the Akumatized man's head back into the brick wall behind him. Destructive power crawled over the helmet, leaving ash in its wake. A black butterfly fluttered weakly away, wings struggling to keep it airborne.

Ladybug snapped her yoyo out and caught it before it had managed to get very far at all. She purified it without any ceremony, most of her attention still on Chat's enraged face.

He was breathing hard, struggling to calm himself, she could tell. His claws still hovered millimeters from Disaster Caster's now bare face.

"Kitten?" She called softly.

The tension went out of him and he dropped away from the former Akuma like a marionette with cut strings. She hurriedly caught him out of the air.

His breath was hot against her throat as he whispered so softly she could barely hear him. "I'm sorry."

It was with relief she saw Lewis catch the dazed man who had been one of their toughest battles ever. Lewis gathered him up in one arm. "I'll take him down to street level so the first responders can help him."

"Who...?" The confused man squinted at Lewis's skeletal face.

"A friend," Lewis soothed. "Let’s get you down where you'll be safe."

Ladybug nodded in acknowledgement of Lewis's words, but all her attention was on her partner. She dropped them back down to the roof. "Kitty, tell me what's wrong. Please."

He looked up at her, green eyes full of pain, and not because of his injuries. "Just fix everything, Milady. Maybe..."

Whatever it was, she could do no less for him. It was a rare thing to summon her Lucky Charm in the aftermath of a fight, but she didn't hesitate. The charm that dropped into her hand was a handkerchief, and she really didn't want to think about the meaning of that. She gently used it to wipe Chat's sweating face before tossing it up in the air. "Miraculous Ladybug!"

The swarm of ladybugs was larger by far than ever before, but this time there was so much damage to undo. She watched damaged structures right themselves and buckled streets smooth out. The lightning-torn roof around them reformed, and she felt the tickle as they swirled around her and Chat, healing injuries in their wake. A pair of glasses chinked softly to the tiles, the object the Akuma had infected.

"I'll never get tired of seeing that!" Vivi said softly, hanging over the railing to watch the city being restored.

Chat watched the magic of the Miraculous Cure sweep away the damages, his expression a sort of troubled yearning. When the last of the ladybugs had vanished, he rose and padded to his baton, now lying discarded on the roof, pausing to unwrap the copper wire from one end. He slid the screen open and began tapping. With one last tap, he took a deep breath before starting to read what was on the screen. Whatever it was made his face fall with every swipe of his thumb.

Ladybug rose to her feet and trotted to his side, curious and concerned. “Kitty?”

He slid the screen closed and turned to draw her into a fiercely tight hug. “I am so, so sorry, Ladylove.”

“Chat...” She didn’t understand what had him so troubled. “Tikki, spots off,” she breathed, and reached up to cup his cheeks with bare hands, hoping skin to skin contact could offer some comfort.

He pressed into her touch, a rough, stuttering purr starting in his throat. It wasn’t a happy sound, but the kind of sound a sick cat made to soothe itself. She hated to hear it from him.

Marinette went up on her toes to press a kiss on his forehead. Chat sighed heavily, his arms tightening around her waist.

In her purse, her phone began to let out a long series of chirps, both missed call notifications and text tones. Marinette tried to ignore it, more concerned about Chat and his distress. At least until Tikki dived into her bag and pulled out the phone. The Kwami’s overlarge eyes widened and she made an alarmed sound. “Marinette, I think you should look at this.”

“Not now, Tikki.” Marinette pled. She hated to ignore her Kwami but at the moment, her love needed her more.

Tikki made a frustrated sound.

Chat heaved another sigh and pushed her away gently. His eyes were damp and the hurt in them made her heart ache. She reached out for him, but he caught her hands. “I never wanted this for you.” He accepted the phone from Tikki and closed her fingers around it.

“Chat...”

“I am so sorry, Princess.”

“What for—?”

“Forgetting that a black cat is bad luck.” He tapped a claw on her phone and without her willing it, her eyes tracked down to it.

Her homescreen was absolutely filled with notifications. Twenty-four missed calls? And the text notifications numbered more than fifty. What—?

She unlocked the phone, her fingers shaking a little. What had happened while she was battling the Akuma. Had the Miraculous cure not been enough to fix all the damage? What if someone was hurt? Mama or Papa? Alya?

There were seventeen missed calls from Alya alone, and that eased a little of the tightness in her chest. Two were from different unknown numbers. Two from the bakery’s line and one each from her Mama and Papa’s respective cell phones. And oddly enough, one from Nadja Chamak. There were ten new voicemails and fifty-seven texts from Alya. There was also a text from Rose, simply a heart-eyes emoji and, “Why didn’t you tell us?”

She scrolled to the earliest text from Alya, consisting of a keysmash and a blurry photograph of a tv screen. Even with the blur from what had to be Alya shaking, she recognized the image, the same one Disaster Caster had shown Chat that had triggered his enraged attack. Herself; passionately kissing Chat Noir.

Her knees wobbled and Chat was quick to support her. “He... he broadcast us kissing—?”

Arthur cursed, prompting Lewis to cover his mouth, but the blond man just shoved the ghost’s large hand away. “Hell with my language, Lewis. Even I know what the fuck that means. One fell swoop just put Marinette on everybody’s radar, including Hawkmoth’s. She’s locking lips with one of the heroes of this city. That’s like pinning on a huge target on her. Not only for the supervillain in town to take shots at but every single wanna-be newshound and paparazzi in a hundred-mile radius of Paris.”

Marinette’s legs gave out. “I am so, so very screwed.”

#miraculous Mystery Skulls #mystery skulls animated #miraculous ladybug #arthur kingsmen #vivi yukino #lewis pepper #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #oops #Cats out of the bag #literally

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the-awkward-outlaw · 5 years

Text

Second Chances - Ch. 11

A New Home

Warnings: blood, swearing

Word count: ~6000

You finish your story beneath the oak tree. You’ve been leaning forward for a while now. Shame rips through you as tears streak down your cheeks. You’re glad Arthur has already withdrawn his arm from your back. You can’t bring yourself to look at him just so you can see on his face how pathetic he must find you. You hate how weak you’d been for so many years, how long you allowed yourself to suffer. Of course, you weren’t exactly proud of how you handled it in the end either, killing your entire family when you could have so easily just run away.

You suddenly feel Arthur’s hand on your shoulder, rubbing with his thumb. Despite yourself, you look over at him. He looks at you sadly.

“I’m real sorry, sweetheart,” he says gently. You look away again.

“Don’t be, Arthur. Not like you had anything to do with it. But maybe we should just call this whole thing off,” you add, feeling your heart break.

“What are ya talkin’ ‘bout?”

“I mean there isn’t a future for us, Arthur. I obviously can’t give anyone a family, not even you, and I doubt I could ever lie with anyone without...”

“Ya think that’s the only thing I care about in a relationship?” he snaps, withdrawing his hand. You look back at him. “Darlin’, I don’t wanna lose you just because you can’t have kids. It ain’t like you chose that, so I ain’t gonna blame ya for it. “Sides, kids don’t make a family a family.”

He rests his hand on your shoulder again. “And as far as bein’ intimate, well, that might have to be somethin’ we work on. But I ain’t gonna force ya. What I’m sayin’ is I’d rather have ya as you are than not have ya at all. Shoar, maybe yer past gave ya some bad scars, and it might’ve broken ya. But I’m willin’ to help ya put yerself back together.”

A new wave of tears hits you. He smiles and grabs your hand, removing it from your knee and squeezing it gently. You feel your heart swell as you look into his soft blue eyes. He pulls you into his chest while you cry, letting you get all your emotions out. He doesn’t say a word while your pain rips through your chest. He just lets you cry, rubbing your back and brushing your hair with his fingers.

When you finally manage to compose yourself, he helps you stand up. He takes your face in his hands and wipes the last few tears from your cheeks.

“Ya gonna be a’right, girl,” he says gently. He lets you go and grabs your hand, leading you up to camp.

“Hey, what ya say we go do somethin’, get yer mind off of things?” he says as you walk past the hitching posts.

“What do you have in mind?” you ask, sniffing a little.

“Well, I been helpin’ this guy I met in Valentine. Says he’s an author, doin’ a story on some ol’ gunslinger. Offered me a lot of money to go find some people who used to run with a guy named Jim “Boy” Calloway. I found three of ‘em already, had to kill ‘em. Just need one more. Ya wanna come with me? I’m hopin’ she’ll be easier than the others.”

You blink a few times, the sun making your tired eyes smart a bit. “D’you know where she is?” Arthur pulls a photo out of his satchel. You see a tall woman in a black dress and large, black hat holding a rifle. He flips it over and you see the name “Black Belle”.

“Says here she’s holed up in the swamps of the Bayou Nwa. Think I have an idea where we might find her.”

You nod your head. “Okay, let’s go find her. I think I could use a good run. ‘Sides, I ain’t never been to a swamp before.”

“Nor have I,” Arthur admits, putting his photo back in his satchel.

You both check your horses, making sure you have enough provisions to last a few days just in case it takes longer than expected to find this Black Belle.

As Arthur leads you out of the trees from Horseshoe Overlook, you trot Rannoch by Artemis’s side.

“So you said you already found three others for this author,” you say. “What were they like?”

“Bunch o’ miserable bastards,” he says. “First was a man named Flaco Hernandez. Found him in a cabin up in a place called Cairn lake on the way to Colter. Think he was on the run from the law; didn’t seem at all like he was too happy ‘bout bein’ in the snow. Made me duel him, guess he weren’t too interested in talkin’ ‘bout his past.

“Then there was Emmett Granger. Pig farmer. Don’t think I ever been more happy to see a man dead.”

“Why?”

“He kept talkin’ ‘bout the horrible things he done to people. Skinnin’ ‘em, scalpin’ ‘em. Think he was makin’ it all up. Maybe he did kill people, but he was actin’ all tough ‘bout it. Made me clean up his pig shit just for a quote, but when I was done he wouldn’t give me one about Jim Boy. So I stuck a stick of dynamite in his shit pile and blew it up. He tried throwin’ a knife at me, but I shot him before he could. Like I said, nasty bastard.

“The last man I found in Rhodes. Ya been there?” You shake your head.

“Ain’t surprised. It’s on the west side of Lemoyne. Anyways, found him on a train. When I asked him about Jim Boy, he thought I’d come to kill him for killin’ some man in his sleep. Guess he felt real guilty ‘bout it, don’t quite know why. Made me chase him on top of the train until he got to the engine where he tried to shoot me. Like I said, all of ‘em were a bunch of miserable bastards. Doesn’t give me high hopes ‘bout this lady.”

“Well, at least you won’t be alone this time. Doesn’t mean I’ll be a good shot, though. Ain’t exactly a gunslinger myself.”

Arthur huffed. “‘S a’right. Like I said, we’ll just try talkin’ to her first.”

You follow Arthur’s lead, going over the plains of the Heartlands and passing Emerald Ranch. He takes you south and into a woodland. The trees start to thicken until you hit a wide, dark river. The trees on the opposite bank are foreign to you. Tall, wide willows dangle their ribbons of green towards the water. You cross the river through a covered bridge. When you enter the open air again, it’s almost like you’ve journeyed into a completely different world.

The air around you is thick and wet, almost soupy. You don’t entirely enjoy it as it seems to make the heat less bearable. A thick mist hangs persistently over the ground despite it being mid-afternoon. You can hear the ground beneath Rannoch’s hooves squelch loudly as he trots along. The vegetation on the sides of the dirt path is even foreign. Thick clumps of bushes, some drooping with the weight of berries. Tall grasses rise out of the mud. Tall willow trees, their trunks slick with green moss and slime. You see a flock of large white birds with long necks and legs take off into the air, cooing softly. Something loud growls from the right side of the path; it sounds huge. You hope you never see what made it.

Arthur takes you along the path where the trees begin to thin, opening up onto a muddy plain. As you run along the path, you hear the squeals of wild boars dashing towards the river you had just crossed. To the south, through the trees you see a wide, shallow brown lake. You don’t think it’s very deep as it’s dotted with multiple small islands, and in several areas the willows grow right out of the water. You spot what looks like a partially submerged log close to the bank near the path, but as the two horses approach, it disappears beneath the gloomy water.

You carry on, passing the lake. To the south, you see tall columns of smoke rising into the air from a distance. You squint your eyes, trying to see where it’s coming from through the muggy air. You can see the far-off outlines of buildings.

You pass by a muddy quagmire and see something strange. A lizard lies in the mud, but it’s huge. Larger than any lizard you’ve ever seen. It looks to be twice Arthur’s length, and you can see its teeth lining its long snout. You’ve never seen anything like it before. The animal opens its mouth and hisses as the horses pass it on the trail, but it doesn’t move.

“What the hell was that?” you ask, turning in your saddle to look at the lizard.

“Alligator. Nasty reptiles.”

You spot up ahead on the south side of the trail a small cabin held up on stilts above the thick mud. The land surrounding it is littered with bits of old wagons, a few empty crates and boxes scattered around. Arthur pulls Artemis to a stop and takes out the photo of Black Belle again. He reads the back and then replaces it.

“Think this might be the place,” he says, walking on towards the house.

You both dismount where the trail leads to the cabin, walking along the soft ground and to the stairs. Just as Arthur’s about to step onto the porch, the front door opens and he’s met with the barrel of a rifle.

“You there!” says a woman’s sharp voice. “You a bounty hunter?”

“Not right now, I ain’t,” he says, taking a step back and holding his hands up.You do the same.

“What about you?” she spits, pointing the gun to you.

You raise your hands higher. “No, ma’am. Ain’t never gone after a bounty in my life.”

“You Black Belle?” Arthur asks. She whips the gun back in his direction. “I’d like to talk to you about your wild West days.”

“I don’t care much for reminiscing,” she says, opening the door wider. You see her in a floor-length black dress and black hat as she steps out. A cunning smile spreads along her face. You recognize her from the photograph: Black Belle. “You got any friends is bounty hunters?” she walks out of the cabin, still pointing the rifle at you and Arthur.

“Not that spring to mind,” he says, taking a step back. You step back onto the soggy ground. She looks up and down the path in the distance.

“Well, then you done lead them boys here and you none the wiser.”

You both turn around and see several men trotting down the path towards the cabin. You can tell by the size of their group and the way they’re looking at Belle they’re hunters.

“Ah, those bounty hunters,” he says.

“Knew my luck’d run out sooner or sooner,” she snaps, lowering her gun.

“Well, get inside. I’ll tell ‘em yer gone,” he offers.

She laughs and points the gun back at him, stepping towards him. You pull out your gun but don’t point it from its holster.

“Oh, no no,” she says, ignoring you. “I ain’t hiding from them scalp hunters. I ain’t fightin’ them on my own neither. You still want that wild West story?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he says, lowering his hands. You turn and look back at the path and the gathering bounty hunters.

“Well get up here, then. When I give the word, you pull that,” she motions to a box with a plunger. “Whole place is wired.” She gives him a cheeky wink as he takes his position. You kneel down behind the railing, watching as the bounty hunters dismount. One of them approaches the path to the porch, holding a wanted poster.

“Black Belle!” he calls. “We got a contract here for your life or liberty!”

“Well, why don’t ya let me see that contract there and we’ll talk!” she calls.

The bounty hunter starts walking towards the cabin. “Light ‘em up, cowboy,” she whispers.

Arthur presses down on the plunger, and the ground shakes as the hidden dynamite explodes. Several of the bounty hunters fly into the air, blown back by the blast. You pull out your sawed-off, shooting at the remaining men, accompanied by Arthur’s pistols and Belle’s rifle. She yells profanities and taunts as more bounty hunters show up. A wagon appears, a man hiding behind a gatling gun begins to shoot, spraying bullets everywhere. Arthur stands up straight, aiming his pistol. You’re worried for a second he’s going to get shot, but then he pulls his trigger and the gatling gun goes silent. You peak over the railing and see the man who had been operating it is now lying dead in the wagon. The three of you finish off the remaining bounty hunters until they turn and flee into the swamp.

“Woo!” Belle screams, standing up.

“Shit!” Arthur says, holstering his guns.

“That the last of them scalp hunters?”

“For now,” Arthur says, standing up straight. You follow his lead, holstering your gun. “So, you gonna tell me about yer wild West days? Runnin’ with Jim Boy Calloway?”

“Little boy Calloway?” she laughs. “The only runnin’ that man ever did was away from a fight.”

“Well, apparently the man’s a famous gunslinger,” Arthur says, lighting a cigarette and taking a puff from it before handing it to you.

“Don’t get what’s famous confused for what’s true,” she says and reaches into her cabin, pulling out a heavy burlap sack and throwing it over her shoulder. She walks passed you and Arthur. “Those of us who lived that life was too busy bein’ scared for our scalp to talk to no writers or novel men.

“What were they like then?” Arthur asks, following her.

“Same as now, I guess, only longer ago,” she says in a strange tone.

“Ya mind if I get yer photo?” he asks her, pulling out a camera.

“Not at all,” she says, plopping the large sack at her feet. She grabs her rifle and aims it up into the sky. Arthur snaps a photo and thanks her, stepping forward to grab her sack. She laughs, picking it up and away from him, throwing a sly smile before slinging it over her horse’s back.

“You gonna be a’right?” he asks.

“Been runnin’ for twenty years, suppose I’ll be runnin’ till I drop. Just the way it is.” She winks at him again before charging down the trail.

He waves at her, staring at her back. “Interestin’ woman,” he says, turning away and walking towards Artemis.

“No doubt,” you say, whistling for Rannoch.

After mounting your horses, you trot down along the trail. When you reach the muddy lake, Arthur stops and pulls out his binoculars.

“What are you lookin’ at?” you ask.

“Heard there’s some real interestin’ birds in these parts. I don’t see any...hold on. Well, if I didn’t know better, I’d say that’s Mr. Mason,” he chuckles, replacing his binoculars into his satchel.

“Mr. Mason? The photographer?” you ask, gazing across the water. You can’t see anything through the dense trees. Arthur turns back down the way you had just come, dashing along the shores of the shallow lake. Rannoch stumbles slightly as one of his hooves sinks into the thick mud. You’re grateful you don’t see any alligators nearby. Something about them gives you the creeps.

You travel along the southside of the lake and you see the photographer standing on the mucky bank near a skiff. His camera points out over the water.

Arthur approaches the man. You can tell he’s smiling.

“They creep up on you, y’know,” he says, making the man jump.

“Mr. Morgan! Ms. Y/L/N!”

“What are ya workin’ on?”

“Do you know anything about alligators?” “Only the basics, avoid them wherever possible.”

“Did you know that in the last 50 years, we’ve wiped out 90% of them?”

“You say that like it makes ya sad,” Arthur looks at him from beneath the rim of his hat.

“They’re beautiful creatures.”

Arthur chuckles. “Well, let’s see if you change yer mind when one of ‘em’s got you in a death roll.”

“Yes, I’m sure to make some animal a very happy lunch someday!”

“You stay there, you might get a great shot but then you’ll get eaten,” Arthur walks over and grabs Albert’s bag, placing it into the boat.

“What a way to go!” he says, staring almost frightened over the water.

“C’mon, get in the boat. It’ll be fine,” Arthur gestures..

Albert climbs in, handing his camera to Arthur as he clambers over the seats. Once he’s sitting in the front, he reaches back for his camera as Arthur helps you into the skiff.

You’ve only ever been in a boat once, and that was when you were very little, still living in Blackwater. You can barely remember it. You sit between the two men in the middle of the boat as Arthur grabs the oars, pushing away from the shore.

“You carry on shootin’ from that bank,” Arthur says. “Yer gonna wish them wolves had eaten ya.”

“Really?”

“Yes. The 10% of gators that survived,” Arthur calls from the back. “They’re the mean ones.”

You situate yourself more into the middle of the seat, feeling nervous. You slowly lean over, staring into the murky brown water, partially curious about what lies beneath the boat, but also terrified. Albert sets up his camera to point out over the water. He directs Arthur to certain areas of the shallow lake. At one point, you see a small group of boars drinking from the lake just as a wide, reptilian head emerges, snapping its powerful jaws around the neck of one of the boars, dragging it beneath the water. Albert’s camera flashes and he hollers.

“Yes! Caught him enjoying his dinner!”

He directs the boat further into the lake until the boat is nearly upon an island where you can see a particularly large gator basking in the sun.

“Oh no!” Albert squeals as the gator runs off into the tall grass and away from the camera. “We’ve spooked him. Would you mind, Arthur?”

“What?”

“Well, would you mind going over there and luring him out? He’s quite spectacular!”

“Ya gotta be kiddin’ me,” Arthur grumbles as he climbs over the boat. You grab his hand.

“Be careful,” you say, worried.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be back in a minute.”

He slowly wades his way over to the island, peaking over the grass. He suddenly darts back to the boat, climbing in as the large reptile barrels out after him. You scream a little, grabbing Arthur’s arms and pulling him in. He sits on the seat, breathing heavily as the gator scurries into the water, away from the boat.

“You okay?” you ask, looking for the gator.

“I’m just fine.”

“That was quite remarkable!” Albert hollers. “I think we have enough photographs, Mr. Morgan. Take us back to shore!”

Arthur pulls out from the island, turning the boat and rowing it back to the shore where the horses patiently stand. He hops out of the boat, pulling it onto land.

“These photos yer takin’,” he says to Albert as he helps you out.

“Yes?”

“They gonna be any good?”

Albert laughs as he stands up. “I certainly hope so, though I’m doubtful. The subject is magnificent, the backdrop jaw dropping. But God’s agent of beauty is a talentless fool.”

“You shoar make me laugh the way you talk about yerself, Mr. Mason!” Arthur chuckles, putting his hand around your waist.

“Well, I’m good for laughing at if nothing else,” Albert chuckles as he pushes the boat back out into the water, rowing himself in a circle.

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I know. But may I mention that you two make quite the handsome couple?”

You bow your head, blushing. Arthur squeezes your hip gently, laughing. “Take care of yerself, Mr. Mason.”

“And you too, Mr. Morgan. Ms. Y/L/N? It was a pleasure once again!”

You both wave to Albert as you turn to your horses, mounting them and heading back to the trail.

“I kinda like that fella,” you say.

Arthur laughs. “Me too.”

You look to the south of the swamp at the distant buildings belching smoke.

“What city is that?” you ask.

“I think it’s Saint Denis,” Arthur says, stopping.

You suddenly think of Emma, your horrible cousin. The last thing you want to do is visit the city where you might accidentally bump into her. You’re happy leaving her in your past.

“Let’s go home,” you say, turning Rannoch to go up the path. Arthur follows you, heading on back to camp.

The next morning, you stand beside Pearson’s fire with Arthur, drinking sips of coffee.

“John wants you and me to meet him in Valentine. Somethin’ ‘bout rustlin’ sheep.”

“Oh yeah,” you say, finishing your drink. “He said he was gonna look into that job. Told me he wanted me to be part of it.”

“Well, good. Let’s go.”

You both ride to Valentine, spotting John’s horse Old Boy by the stables. He’s leaning on a beam, staring out at the livestock waiting to be sold. A large sign announces that there’s to be an auction later this afternoon.

“So, feelin’ better, I see,” Arthur says to him. “How’s the scar?”

“I heal pretty fast,” he says, staring out at the livestock in the corrals. You glance at his face and can see the stitches across his scratched face.

“Lucky you,” Arthur snips at him. “So you just lazin’ about or you actually want us here for a job?”

John straightens up and points at some sheep in the nearest corral. “You see them?”

“What, you see yerself as a shepherd now?” Arthur jokes.

“Maybe, c’mon, follow me.”

He starts walking away down the street and towards the main road of Valentine.

“Where are we goin’?” Arthur asks, following him and you walking in his lead.

“Collect somethin’ that’s gonna help with the sheep.”

“Y’know, that attempt to sound enigmatic and interestin,” Arthur says, grabbing Artemis’s reins. “It might work for Dutch, but for you it just makes you look stupid.”

You throw him a curious look to which he doesn’t see. John leads you down the streets towards the gunsmith. You listen to the two men argue about the wisdom of returning to Blackwater to collect the money that was left there. You agree with Arthur that going back would be nothing more than a death sentence. You have no desire to return.

You follow Arthur and hitch Rannoch next to Old Boy by the sheriff’s office, crossing the muddy street to the gunsmith. Arthur climbs up the steps to find John leaning against the wall near the door.

“Here, take this,” he says to Arthur, handing him some money. “Go buy a sniper rifle, will ya?”

Arthur takes the money and goes inside, leaving you alone to stand next to John.

“What’s the plan here, John?” you ask.

“Dug into that note you stole from that guy,” he says, lighting a cigarette. “Found out some fellas are gonna be bringing some sheep for auction here today. Might be able to grab ‘em.”

Arthur walks out of the gunsmith, the scoped rifle slung over his shoulder.

“A’right, let’s go,” he says, going back to the horses. You and the men walk down the muddy street and get on your horses.

“I don’t know why you couldn’t buy this gun yerself,” Arthur calls to him from Artemis’s back.

“Had a run in with that fella earlier. We ain’t on the best of terms.”

“You had a run in? I had a run in with nearly half that town! Why are you bein’ so cagey ‘bout all this? Always playin’ some game.”

“I ain’t the one takin’ Jack out on fishing trips!” John snaps as you pass the train station.

“No, you ain’t,” Arthur shoots back. “If you say the boy ain’t yers, then what’s the difference? You’d probably run off again!”

“Why are you so interested in my life? Ain’t you got one of yer own?”

“Look, just do one thing or another, not be two people at once. That’s all I’m sayin’.”

You listen to the two men bicker once more as you canter down the path out of Valentine, passing a tall mountain leading towards the Heartlands. John leads you both past it and up onto a slope overlooking the plain you had just been on. To the north lies a wood, and east of that is an oil field sitting on black ground, a train passing through it.

John leads you to the top of the slope and dismounts. You and Arthur follow him. You stand with the two men on the top of the mountain. Arthur pulls down his scoped rifle and looks through it. You pull out your binoculars and spot three riders in the distance following a small herd of sheep.

“Just put a bullet in near ‘em, scare ‘em off,” John says.

Arthur pulls the trigger, the gun thundering. You see two of the riders scurry off, but one of them just stops and pulls out a minuscule pistol.

“That one’s not runnin’ off, shoot again closer this time.”

Arthur shoots again, you see a small cloud of dirt rise up just behind the third rider. He gets the message and gallops away, leaving the sheep abandoned.

You climb back onto Rannoch and follow the two men down the mountainside. The herd has dispersed in the chaos, scattering over the plain. You go and round three of them up, directing them back to the main herd as Arthur and John argue who is going to take charge of the sheep, Arthur eventually winning out.

“Now ain’t the time for you to be learnin’ how to herd!” he says to John, guiding the sheep towards Valentine. Every once in a while, he spurs them on with a shout. Within moments, the herd dashes past the Valentine train station and into the open gate leading to the corrals. Three men close the gate behind the last sheep and then turn to you and your companions as you dismount.

“Fine sheep!” John says.

“They’re okay,” one of the men says, eyeballing you, John and Arthur with a haughty stare.

“You seen better ‘round here?” Arthur demands.

“I’ve seen ones with less ambiguity about their provenance.”

“What you tryin’ to say?” Arthur barks, stepping towards the man. You nervously place your hand on your gun in its holster.

“I’m sayin’ you give me 25% kickback, and I won’t say nothing to nobody.”

“Excuse me?!” Arthur says.

“Sure, I’ll excuse you. For 25%.”

“Do you want me to put another hole in yer head?” Arthur snarls.

“Folk swing for rustlin’ livestock, my friend. 25%!”

John steps forward, pushing Arthur out of the way. He and the man argue about the amount, bringing the agreed amount down to 18%.

“Pleasure doin’ business with you,” the man says as he shakes John’s hand. He offers it to Arthur, who hesitates before grabbing it. You can tell by his grip that he’d like nothing more than to break his hand.

“Calm yourself. Think of it as I’m buyin’ your sins,” the man says with a nasty grin.

“Yeah, yer buyin, but we’re payin’!” Arthur snaps, turning away.

John mentions to him that Dutch wants to meet him in the saloon just down the street. You start walking Rannoch down the road with them. You expect to go to the large saloon on the main street, but you spot Dutch’s horse, the Count, hitched outside a smaller saloon you’ve only seen but never been inside. You hitch your horse and follow Arthur inside, spotting Dutch and Strauss at one of the tables in the back. Arthur turns to you quickly.

“Hey, darlin’, ya mind if I speak with Dutch alone? I’ll buy ya a whisky next time we’re in town.”

“Of course,” you say. “I’ll meet you in camp?”

He nods and pats you on the back. You turn and climb back onto Rannoch, walking down the main street at a steady trot. You’re partially relieved to be leaving the town. Something doesn’t feel right.

You’ve just passed the tree below the rail bridge where the mutilated corpse had been hanging when you hear them: gunshots coming from Valentine. You stop, looking behind you. Of course, you can’t see anything from this distance. Within seconds, riders and carriages come barreling in your direction, pushing you further down the path to avoid being trampled as the gunshots continue. Despite your desire to return to the town and help, as you’re sure it has something to do with your gang, you return to camp. You stay in the cover of the trees, still mounted on Rannoch. You wait for several moments, nervous and anxious. You hear horses approaching and see the small white form of the Count and John’s large horse, Strauss clinging onto John. Arthur is nowhere in sight.

“Dutch!” you call as he charges past you, looking angry. He ignores you, so you follow him, dismounting your appaloosa by the hitching post.

Dutch begins marching towards Hosea when you catch him by the shoulder.

“Dutch! What the hell happened? I heard gunshots from Valentine. Where’s Arthur?” you demand.

“Everything’s just fine, Y/N,” Dutch says, raising his hands slightly. “Let me take care of this first.”

“Dutch Van der Linde!” you yell, surprising even yourself. “What the hell happened and where is Arthur?!”

Dutch sighs as several gang members begin to approach, looking worried. Hosea, sitting in his tent, stands up and approaches.

“Leviticus Cornwall showed up in town. Guess he was real angry about us stealing from his train. We had to shoot our way out. Arthur stayed behind to make sure we weren’t followed.”

“And you left him there?” you hiss. “You just left him there?! He could be dead for all you know, Dutch! I swear to God if he has even the tiniest scratch, I’m taking it out on your ass, Mr. Van der Linde!”

“Ms. Y/L/N!” he hollers, grabbing you by the shoulders. “Calm down! He’ll be just fine, he always is!”

“I don’t care if he’s been fine in the past!” you throw his hands off. “It only takes one time!”

You hear a horse trampling up the path and turn to see Artemis’s familiar form, Arthur on her back, sweaty but unhurt. You breathe a sigh of relief.

“You see, Y/N,” Dutch says calmly. “Like I said, he’s always fine.”

You ignore him and march over to Arthur as he dismounts Artemis. You plant yourself in front of him, hands on your hips. He looks at you, confused.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“You stayed behind while those other two just ditched you?” you snap. “Let me guess. You hid behind a crate while getting shot at by God knows how many men while Dutch and John just sauntered up the path?”

“‘S wagon, actually,” he smiled bashfully. “‘Sides, I got out just fine. No one followed us, that’s all that matters.”

“I don’t give a damn that no one followed you, Arthur Morgan!” you holler. “And I don’t care that you got out just fine this time! I don’t ever wanna hear that you let yourself get left behind during a gunfight so that I have to guess whether or not you’re coming home!”

He lowers his brows. “They had to leave me behind, Y/N! Strauss got shot in the leg, so John had to get him outta there.”

“But did Dutch stay with ya? No, he didn’t! He just ran off, letting you clean things up! I swear to God, Arthur! I never wanna hear about you doin’ something like that again! I don’t wanna worry about whether or not you’re okay!”

Tears are pricking your lower lids, you wipe them away angrily. You always tend to cry when arguing with someone. Arthur looks at you understandingly. He pulls you into a tight hug.

“I’m real sorry, Y/N,” he says. “Didn’t mean to make ya worry. Just so used to it, ‘s all. I always been looking behind Dutch’s back.”

“Well, you need to remember it’s not just his back you need to worry about,” you sniff. “Please promise me the next time something like this happens you won’t let yourself get left behind?”

He chuckles a little. “Honey, ya act like gunfights are somethin’ that happen to us on a weekly basis.”

You can’t help but smile. “Almost surprised they don’t.”

“Look at you two!” a thick Irish voice comes from behind you. You let go of Arthur and look back at the grinning face of Sean. “Gettin’ all cute with each other when ol’ Grimshaw’s barkin’ at us to get packed up! Typical ol’ Morgan!”

“Yeah, you’d know so much ‘bout helpin’ ‘round camp,” Arthur jokes, stepping around you and walking towards Dutch’s tent.

Grimshaw barrels towards you. A bear would’ve been less intimidating.

“Ms. Y/L/N!” she shouts, attempting to grab your arm. You dart out of her grasp. “We need to get movin’ and yer too busy yellin’ at Arthur to help! Now get over there and start packin’ up!”

You run over to your shared tent, grabbing empty boxes from inside the wagon and throwing Arthur’s belongings into it. You turn your head and see him marching away with Charles as Dutch tells them to go find a new camping spot.

Within hours, the camp is packed up and the horses are hitched to the wagons. You mount up on Rannoch, not wanting to ride in the wagons again the way you did when leaving Blackwater and Coulter. You follow the train along the side, going at a steady trot.

The train heads east into the Heartlands. You look back one last time at the trees that have provided you cover these past few weeks. You feel somewhat sad to leave it behind. Horseshoe Overlook had been a beautiful place.

The wagons continue on down the through the plains. You can see in the distance the few buildings that make up Emerald Ranch. The train heads down south where you see the familiar form of Charles galloping towards Dutch’s wagon. You trot up to the front, but you can’t see Arthur anywhere.

“We found a place, Dutch,” he calls. “Place called Clemens Point.”

“What happened to Dewberry Creek?” Micah says, joining your side much to your dislike.

“We weren’t the first ones there,” Charles says. “We found a camp already there. Someone tried to rob them. Arthur’s with one of the families now, takin’ them home. He says he’ll meet us there.”

“Very good,” Dutch says, whipping the horses on.

You trot down the trail with the wagons, passing a sign that says “Welcome to the State of Lemoyne”. You notice that the temperature has become warmer, the roads dryer. The trails fade from a soft brown to an almost harsh orange. You see, not too far off, the huge form of Flat Iron Lake. You know that on the far-off shore lies Blackwater.

After nearly an hour of travel, Charles leads the wagons off the main path and into a large cluster of trees, approaching the lake. The trees thin out, giving way to a large meadow with a thick tree in the middle. You see Arthur standing by the tree, raising his arms up and greeting the entire gang.

“What ya think?” he calls to Dutch.

“I love it!” he says, clambering off the wagon. “Think we can really make a home for ourselves here.” He orders Grimshaw and Pearson to start unpacking.

The next few hours are spent running around the clearing, placing wagons and raising tents. You rather like where Grimshaw has assigned your shared tent, overlooking the silvery lake.

As the sun begins to set, you stand on the shore watching the burning sun as it dips. Arthur walks over to you, handing you a plate of stew. You thank him.

“Guess this is our home,” you say.

“For now, anyways.”

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