#arthur you poor poor sod
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I want Arthur to get some rest.
#malevolent#malevolent podcast#koal's doodle dump#drew this during the tail end of season 1 where the descriptions of various forms of tentacles still stuck in my consciousness#anyway I continued on with season 2 and episode 18-20 made me want to punch the damn wall (compliment)#arthur you poor poor sod
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Okay but let's look at it from Arthur's point of view.
He's an arrogant prat and then this twink comes into his life and makes him rethink every decision and his way of thinking. He starts to loosen up and make real relationships with people.
Then he is betrayed by his father. His sister. His uncle. And let's face it. His girlfriend. Because this is Arthur's view and he doesn't know what is going on behind these betrayals.
He doesn't know his sister was his sister or had magic. He didn't know when she turned on him. And he loved her and cared for her. And she's standing there giving that evil smirk and blaming him for everything and the poor sod doesn't even know how this came about.
Then he sees his uncle whom he trusted despite everything with a sword in his hand and he doesn't even know where he went wrong or what he did to get in this situation.
Then there was also his girlfriend who he loved with all his heart. And she went ahead and kissed Arthur's knight who he had chosen. The knight who represented the biggest change that had come in Arthur because he was the first knight Arthur chose.
And despite all this, he forgives and loves and still trusts people who come in his life.
And then there's a new knight who represented the growth and prosperity of Camelot. And let's face it, Arthur was not wrong in killing Kara. He gave her a trial and heard her side. But this knight then betrayed Arthur and stabbed him and went to the sister whose betrayal Arthur still had not come to terms with.
And then the twink. The best friend. The one constant in Arthur's life lied to him. About a core part of him. And the first reaction Arthur has is that 'he would know'. That despite everything, Merlin was someone Arthur knew. And yet, all it took was a little time and some stilted conversation to overcome one of the biggest fears of his life. Magic was something that had disrupted his entire life and yet, all it took was this one peasant having it because that's the kind of person Arthur is.
Arthur trusts and loves and gives it his everything. But he also forgives and grieves and blames himself more than he blames others. Even if he had no fault in it. He is resilient and stupidly brave.
'I want you to always be you' will stay with me forever because despite not knowing about the magic, Arthur did know Merlin. Arthur knew what Merlin needed. And he has come a long way from an Arrogant Prat to becoming the Once and Future King.
#arthur pendragon#bbc merlin#merlin#merthur#arthur was resilient and its not talked about enough#he deserved the world#he was betrayed left and right but he still stood strong#the once and future king#but also a clotpole
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Drabble: Arthur Harrow visits his mother
Prompt: How would Harrow be with his mom? Arthur Harrow x Reader
Rating: Teen/General
Mentioning of: Cult, family life, kids, pregnancy, overbearing mom, age difference, age gap.
Imagine if Harrow’s mother would still be alive. How would their relationship be?
00—oo — 00
“Is she part of your cult?” the old woman’s voice croaked while she tried to sit a little straighter in her chair. Her hunched form an indication of her age. There was a buzzing all around her from other elderly people, each seated at different tables with their own visitors. The nursery home had an excellent cuisine and the cafeteria staff was busy keeping everyone fed.
“It’s not a cult mom,” Arthur said calmly, like he had not taken it as an insult. He had, his mom could tell, but she thought it was admirable how collected he managed to remain nowadays. He’d been different in the past, she remembered. “But no,” there was only a short pause but it was enough to betray he felt discomfort talking about this subject. His mother could hazard a guess as to why. She watched him as he sat in front of her, steaming cup of coffee nearly untouched. His left hand rested on top of his right, over the heads of the crocodiles adorning his cane. “She is not.”
“An outsider?” She sounded surprised and watched her son flinch. Despite their ages, some things would never change. He would always be her son, whether he be one or fifty years of age. And she would always worry about him, even if he was taking care of his own for years now.
“Just a girl,” he did not want to talk, because he did not want to give too much away. Like always, he rather hid the truth, only showing what glimpses of it that he could share to sway someone’s mind or opinion.
“A girl?” his mother sounded worried and placed her hand on top of his, leaning over to have proper eye contact with him. She was searching his eyes for something, and he knew it. She could read him like an open book. He pretty much had inherited that skill from her, after all.
“Woman, then,” Arthur said, seeing his mother’s expression. He knew she only grasped a little of what he was doing, not that he had informed her of all. He wanted her to remain ignorant. Not to be tainted in case anything went wrong and his enemies caught sight of her. She was to remain safe. Happy.
That’s why he had her in the most luxurious nursery home he could find. Here, she’d be cared for. Here, she’d be away from harmful hands.
He realized that she still held certain opinions about his community and the role he played there. “She’s an adult, mom,” he reassured her. “It’s just, she’s much younger than me.”
“How much younger,” his mother mistrustingly asked. She narrowed her eyes at him, her frail old hand curling slightly tighter around his. She might be in her early eighties and not as fit as some of her friends still were, but she still had some strength in her.
Arthur didn’t react to her touch, merely stared her down. “Love doesn’t discriminate.”
“You make it sound worrisome,” she lamented, retracting her hand and fearing the worst. She’d seen these documentaries of other cults. Their leaders had sometimes slept with incredibly young – she didn’t wish to think of it. Not her son. Arthur could tell the thoughts that swirled inside of her head and gently placed a hand on top of hers now.
“She’s in her early twenties,” he said reassuringly. Thumb rubbing past her knuckles gently.
“I am still worried,” his mother confessed. “Why would she want an old sod like you?”
“Mom!”
“I know, I know,” his mother smiled at him and shook her head. “I am just messing with you. But I do urge you to think of what her future will be like, the way things are heading now. You’re trying to be kind to everyone you meet, Arthur. The bad things are in the past and I am proud of how you coped with that,” and here he remembered being Khonsu’s avatar, and the havoc he had caused. How it had broken his poor mother’s heart to see her youngest son on a murder spree. That he’d gotten away with it had been a miracle. “But now it’s time to move forward. Don’t let your goal keep you away from finding your own paradise.”
“It is this paradise I wish to bring to our earth,” Arthur said calmly.
“Does she know what you’re doing?” his mother asked. And by the way that his face fell she could already guess the answer. “Does she know who you are?”
Arthur didn’t reply with words, merely glanced away.
“You haven’t told her yet?” He could not tell if his mother was disappointed or concerned. Perhaps both.
“It would scare her away,” he softly admitted.
“And she has no idea of who you are? Of the people who look up at you?”
“She is intelligent,” he now fiercely said, eyes upon his mother again. “I do not delude myself into thinking she will never find out.”
“Quite rightly so,” his mom said. She then stretched her legs in front of her chair and sighed. “I am glad you came to visit me. It has been far too long. You are the only family I have left, and then you go off on these long journeys, out and about. It’s frightening sometimes,” she confessed. And Arthur had the decency to look ashamed at her words.
He looked down at his hands. “You know I have an important task at hand, mother,” he replied.
“I know,” she sighed. A silence fell between them. Not awkward, but still painful.
Arthur was the one to break it. “Are they taking good care of you still?”
His mother flashed him an encouraging smile. “Of course they are. You’ve given me the best and for that I am grateful. But son, you don’t need to spend all of your money on me.”
“It’s hardly all,” Arthur whispered.
“I know,” his mom said. “I am just proud of how far you’ve come in life. And the way you stand on your own two feet.”
She sighed, her eyes drifted to his cane. “Metaphorically speaking that is. Now for the real deal, you’re much too young to be walking with a cane.”
“I’m fifty-two, mom,” Arthur lamented.
“My point still stands. It is unnecessary, Arthur. No mom would want to see her son suffer like that. Come on now, show me those feet.”
“Mom..”
Begrudgingly, Arthur took one of his sandals off, not entirely, but just enough to show his mother the broken pieces of glass that lay within them and the bloody mess that was his foot.
“See,” his mother said, biting back whatever emotion was threatening to slip through. “ I do hope you’ll ditch those slippers with glass once my grandchildren come around, it’s not safe with a baby, Arthur.”
The man’s eyes widened. Arthur clearly had not expected this. “Mother,” he stammered.
“Oh? You do not think there’ll be any?” she deadpanned. “Are you still living a life of celibacy then?”
When Arthur fell silent and stared in front of him, she knew enough.
“Those dark flushed cheeks, that look, I have known you all of your life, Arthur. Be truthful to me,” she said, trying to persuade him. And being his mom, it worked.
“I might have,” he hesitated here, lips moving but no sound coming forth yet. As if he had to pick the right words to follow next, “indulged. She is,” another hesitation, “out of this world, mother.”
Now a small smile crept on her lips. “Well, that is good.” She watched him for a moment, then pursed her lips. “You know, I was young too once. There’s no need to feel ashamed.”
“I know,” Arthur said, he put his slipper back on and winced as the glass bit into his heel. Then he turned to the cafeteria and nodded.
“Shall I get us another drink then? Mine has gone cold,” he offered.
“Thank you, son. The usual,” his mother agreed, and watched as he got up on his feet awkwardly, then slowly walked away.
“You can come out now dear,” she whispered, prompting you from your hiding spot. “But we have to be fast, he won’t be leaving for another hour or so.”
You dusted your clothes, smoothing out all of the crinkles.
“I had no idea he would visit,” the elderly lady begun, apologizing, “Arthur hardly ever comes around. That’s why I am so glad that you come to hold me company so faithfully.”
“I’ll leave through the backdoor,” you quietly said, giving her a quick hug. “I’ll come back tomorrow at noon so we can have lunch together.”
His mother’s eyes shifted down to your stomach. “Will you tell him soon?”
You hesitated, shocked by her question. “Perhaps,” you murmured, “after his journey to Egypt.”
She placed her hand on top of your tummy. “Don’t let the bad men know,” she whispered, blue eyes upon you. “It’ll be our secret.”
“Our secret,” you echoed while you placed your hand on top. Then both of your hands slid off and you spun on your heels. You glanced over your shoulder to see that Arthur was still with his back towards you, then smiled at his mother “mom.”
The old lady flushed with pride while she watched you go. “The Harrow legacy will continue,” she mumbled happily.
Then a cup of tea was placed in front of her and she smiled up at her son again. Something in his eyes was off. The words he spoke came through clenched teeth.
“What did you just say, mom?”
~ for @nicktremblaywayfu
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wip wednesday!
one again i'm here with a snippet from ciayaq?, this one is from chapter three, the high school years.
henry just turned 16 and alex will turn 15 in a few days.
“Okay. Okay. Here goes.” he takes a deep breath and sits straighter, looks at Henry’s encouraging little smile and says it.
“I think I’m bi, and I think Liam wants to date me.”
Henry stays silent for what feels like an eternity. He looks like he’s deciding how to reply to the bomb Alex dropped on his lap. He doesn’t seem like he will tell Alex that he’s disgusting and he should just pick between being gay or straight, that he’s doing it for the attention, that it’s a phase and he’ll grow out of it, but then Henry blinks and smiles. It’s his soft smile, the one that is reserved to his family. Finally, he says, “Thank you for telling me. Does anyone else know? Or is this something that is staying between us?”
Alex feels a little stupid for doubting his best friend. “You’re the only one that knows. And well, Liam too, I guess.”
“Yes, if he wants to date you, the poor sod, I suppose he knows you’re attracted to men, too.” Henry chuckles lightly. “How does he know?”
“Oh fuck you, I’m a delight and a perfect boyfriend!”
“Let’s ask Nor-” Alex interrupts him, laughing, to say “Don’t bring her up! God that was a fucking lapse of judgement on my part.”
“Not on Nora’s?”
“I said shut up! Do you want to hear the rest of the story or not?”
Henry mimics zipping his lips, laughing silently.
[...]
“So, is this what you needed to tell me before asking for advice?”
Alex nods.
“And is this what made you worried I’d never want to see you again?”
“I dunno…” Alex shrugs, going for nonchalant, “Maybe you’d get offended that I didn’t tell you immediately.”
“We’re not six, Alex." Henry rolls his eyes, "I won’t be offended if you need time to process your feelings before you feel up to sharing them. But I’m happy you trust me enough to share this part of you with me.”
He smiles warmly at Alex, and something stirs in his belly. Relief at being accepted by his best friend, he thinks. “Thank you for listening, Hen.”
“Of course, Alex. Now, what is it that you need advice on? If it’s something sexual I still have the PowerPoint your mum sent me last year before prom. It’s surprisingly thorough!”
“Please never say that about my mother when you’re talking about anything sexual!” Alex shudders. “I just don’t know if I really like Liam like that. I think I do but I’m not sure? It feels like how I felt for Nora, and we all know how that went.”
“I can't tell you how to feel, Alex. But I can tell you that if you're not sure about it, you don't owe him anything. You shouldn't date someone because you feel obligated to it, that is regardless of their gender.”
“Of course, I know that,” he nods, “I just don’t… I think I want to try. See what happens. And if it goes like with Nora then maybe it means I should stop dating my friends.” he laughs at that, even as his stomach drops as he says it.
Henry's laugh sounds weird, but Alex doesn't understand why. He says something like “That would be best, yes.” and then changes topic, tells Alex about Arthur's progress of the day. It's a little abrupt, but Alex lets it go, maybe Henry is trying to make things feel normal. He doesn't mind.
open tag!
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2021 New Years Snuggle Scene
usuk :)))))))
Arthur leaned into Alfred’s shoulder, shoving his nose into the crook of his neck and inhaling into his lungs. Cigarettes, cologne, floral body butter and fast food. Distinctly Alfred. Arthur hummed, content, and nuzzled the spot, the man beneath shifting before settling back down.
“How sweet, Angleterre,” Francis chirped from above them, fitting a hand on Alfred’s chest and beginning to lower himself onto the other side of the unoccupied couch.
Arthur slapped the offending hand away, drunk and to the point, “Sod off, frog. Go find some other poor soul to impress yourself upon.”
Francis had already taken his seat, though, and blatantly ignored the Brit’s sentiment. Taking a blond lock between his fingers Francis bemoaned, ”I cannot find dear Canada, rosbif. He has snuck away and left me without a body to hold.”
Alfred snored in his sleep and Arthur reached up to smooth his hand down the American’s nape, taunting France wickedly as Alfred unconsciously leaned further into the touch.
“You are a petty man,” Francis observed candidly, calling over a server and taking a glass of sparkling champagne for the silver tray. He took a sip and closed his eyes, leaning back.
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You remind me of a Dragon
(Charlie Weasley x female reader)
(Not my gifs, credit goes to the creators)
Main Masterlist
Requested by:
Fandom: Harry Potter (Golden Trio Era)
Request: ‘Hi! I love the works you've posted here so far! ❤️ I'd like to request a fluffy, pining!Charlie Weasley x Reader fic, where a fully adult Charlie falls head over heels with the reader at first sight. He decides he wants to shoot his shot, but he's woefully bad at making romantic gestures and ultimately just keeps confusing the poor reader. Because who wouldn't love a good fic about being terribly wooed by a dragon taming himbo just doing his best?If that premise doesn't inspire you, I'd honestly just be happy to read any Charlie x Reader fanfic from you.’
Thank you so much for this request and amazing idea!
Warnings: Nothing but some swearing.
Words: 1.2K
Disclaimer: This is a fanfiction, the scenarios, the reader, and the dialogue are all mine.
This should only be found on my blog.
Author is always me on this blog: @daydreams-magic01 .
A/N: Please do not copy or plagiarise this, or put it in your own book, etc. It should only be found here. Also, please mention if I should make a taglist and if you wanted to be added. I also tried by best at being British.
Thank you.
:)
“Who is she?” Charlie Weasley, a man of about twenty-two with large muscly arms and a few burns scattered along his body, asks.
“Who?” His supervisor then follows his gaze before looking back down to his clipboard. “No one yet, just the new girl.”
Charlie doesn’t take his eyes of the woman, a gasp emitting from his mouth, “she is not nothing, she is... she is...”
He only takes his gaze off the gorgeous woman when his friend snorts, “excuse me?”
“It’s just - it’s just,” the bearded man whispers out between laughs as he looks up to him, “you haven’t even met the poor girl yet, you daft sod. You can’t be in love with her already.”
His gaze hardens into a glare, “it’s love at first sight, like Guinevere and Arthur.”
“Didn’t she cheat on him?”
He does not care to listen, as he forgot most of the stories and facts that they grew up with; dragons are far more interesting, in his opinion. He does not let the man finish as he begins to walk away.
He takes her appearance in as he walks up, trying not to look like a perv and make her uncomfortable - he wasn’t looking at her inappropriately, but Charlie does tend to be a worrier.
She wears beige trousers with a poet shirt tucked inside and knee-high brown boots. She looks gorgeous, with her hair in a bun underneath her large sunhat.
He fancies her already.
“Hello,” he starts, forgetting his manners as he jumps into the conversation.
“Hello,” her mentor starts, tucking her clipboard under her arm and sighing disapprovingly.
“Hi,” the girl of his dreams starts, flashing him a smile that could make anyone’s heart skip a beat.
“Mind if I...” his mind stops, and he says the first thing that comes to mind, a terrible pick-up line he heard Tonks say once in a discussion about something to do with pick-up lines, which he can’t remember, “Slytherin?”
That’s what it was!
It was a conversation about awful lines.
His cheeks instantly flush, and so does hers as he asks himself why he didn’t just introduce himself.
Laughing nervously, he quickly covers himself, “I say that to all the newcomers, so don’t worry. It’s nothing special.
That is how these three people ended up in one of the most confusing silences ever upon this Earth.
~~~~~~~~~~~~Please do not copy ~~~~~~~~~~~~
“If for every time that someone as beautiful as you came and spoke to me, I’d have one Knut.” He instantly regrets saying that, especially as it is George’s creation after all.
It takes all his willpower not to burrow his head into the pillar beside the two of them.
The woman tilts her head and smiles softly, although she is slightly offended and very much confused.
“We talk every day, Charlie.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~Please do not copy ~~~~~~~~~~~~
“What’s your name?”
Before she can reply, he interrupts her, slowing down his steps as he comes to walk next to her, “because it would be better as Weasl-elbeen?”
She stops, scrunching her nose as she turns to him. “We’ve known each other for three months, and you still don’t know my name?”
His eyes widen as he fumbles his hands into his pockets.
She places her hands on her hips.
“And what is a Weaslelbeen?”
~~~~~~~~~~~~Please do not copy ~~~~~~~~~~~~
Embarrassed and regretful, he approaches her again later that night.
There’s a bonfire, and everyone happily surrounds it, talking and drinking several pints.
Noticing her in the corner, a pint in hand, he approaches her.
He needed to make this right.
“You remind me of a dragon; you are so angry.”
He meant fiery, but apparently, Merlin and the universe despises him.
She is not amused as she practically growls out, “my name is (Y/n), and I am not a dragon!”
~~~~~~~~~~~~Please do not copy ~~~~~~~~~~~~
(Y/n) first thought Charlie Weasley to be a kind, charming and attractive man when they had first met, she has heard so much of him.
She realises now that she was wrong.
First, he jokingly gave her a pick-up line, which is awful, and then called her a ‘Weaslebeen’, after informing her he does not know who she is, and just now he called her a dragon and angry!
Oh, how Charlie Weasley infuriates (Y/n) (L/n).
She never sees him watching after her longingly every day, and she is yet to notice that he always tries to get a seat next to her each meal. She also does not see his obvious infatuation with her.
Charlie gave up so much hope that he wrote to his brother William, and after that did not work, he wrote to his younger brother Percy, then George and then Fred, and even Ron. He is beginning to wonder if perhaps a woman’s opinion is better suited to the situation.
~~~~~~~~~~~~Please do not copy ~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ginevra Weasley responded quickly to her brother; she feels sympathetic for the poor git.
She suggested romantic gestures.
So, when Charlie brings (Y/n) a bunch of flowers, her heart skips a beat, and she became all giddy.
He says nothing.
Two days later, he gives her a single rare magical flower found in Romania.
She loves it.
He says nothing.
Charlie figured that speech isn’t his strongest suit.
Today, a week later, as Charlie walks over to her, her heart flutters in hope. She longs for him to clarify what is going on and whether or not he returns her feelings.
He smiles instantly upon seeing her.
Stopping in front of her, he drawls a gasp out of her as he says, “(Y/n)”, and nods.
A grin takes over her face, and she can’t help herself from bouncing on the back of her heels. “Yes?”
Smiling, he hands her a note; but before she opens it, he leaves, nodding in farewell.
Swiftly turning around, she waves her hand in the air and shouts out, “Charlie!”
Panic begins to flood his veins as he realises he will have to talk to her.
“Would you like to join me in town this weekend?”
“No!” He shouts out.
(Y/n) does not bother reading the note after that.
~~~~~~~~~~~~Please do not copy ~~~~~~~~~~~~
“I was supposed to ask you out,” he tries to explain, days later, as he enters her tent. Sighing, she turns from her mirror, brushing her hair.
She doesn’t register what he says, incredibly annoyed.
He sighs as he notices the bunches of flowers in her bin, as well as the note, unopened, on top. “You should have read the note.”
“I’m sorry?”
“I was asking you out.”
“Oh,” she freezes, her heart thumping in her chest.
“I’m not very good at talking, you see?” He jokes, removing his hands from his pockets as he slowly strolls over.
She lets out a quiet laugh, “that is true.”
Stopping in front of her, he looks down at her, giving her his signature infectious smile. “So, would you like to go out with me? I didn’t mean to be so rude or offend you. I messed up; you see I -”
“Yes.”
#charlie weasley x reader#charlie weasley x you#charlie weasley x female reader#charlie weasley x fem!reader#bill weasley x reader#fred weasley x reader#percy weasley x reader#george weasley x reader#ron weasley x reader#charlie weasley x y/n#Harry Potter x reader#weasley x reader
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He has the sigil done up, polished and threaded with a sturdy chain so it may be worn close to the heart.
The poor serving maid in the corner with a tray full of wine goblets nearly drops the whole thing with a squeak of shock when butterflies burst into existence in the antechamber at his faltering explanation. The tray halts midair, held aloft by some unseen force, and floats back to nudge gently at her hands. Merlin shoots her a gentle smile.
She quickly retreats, leaving them to privacy again.
He takes the chance to admire the delicate creatures. They glow a brilliant blue, one no dye could hope to achieve. The beat of their wings matches the frenetic pounding of his heart as he loops the chain over Merlin’s head.
For all its significance, it’s still a token that barely encapsulates the depths of his feelings. All that has been said, all that goes unsaid- all that cannot ever be said.
He can think of no better steward to entrust such an important artifact’s care taking to. Yet, it’s only the next best token to a crown and ring he’s able to gift.
On good days, he imagines he would give more- would empty his coffers of all their riches and ply Merlin with all the material goods he could ever be in want of.
Would offer all the titles and accolades named under law and no longer have visiting nobles sweep their gaze over him dismissively as they would any other servant. Would gladly assist Hunith in relocating to Camelot, if only so Merlin would be surrounded by all that he loves and be loved in return.
On bad days, he imagines he would offer up all the weight and power of kingship to someone else, someone less easily swayed by whims of fancy.
“Ride as far east as we can go,” he muses as they are sequestered away in the antechamber away from the anticipating crowd, “till we reach the waters they say turn gold with the rising sun.”
Or they could ride to where ever holds the most interest if Merlin has no care for the sea, some place where their only concerns would be with regards to their next meal. He finds himself caring not of the destination, as long as he’s in good company.
“You’re drunk!” Merlin exclaims gleefully, all the while attempting to nudge him into position so he can fuss over the chain mail and cloak clasps for the hundredth time, “Before the ceremony too- you’re supposed to drink after, during the feast, Arthur!”
Neither of them mention how Merlin is no longer Arthur’s manservant and thus exempt from such duties. Duties very much beneath a man soon to officially hold the esteemed title and position of Camelot’s Court Sorcerer.
He catches Merlin’s hand. “Hardly!” he protests, “I’ve been working far too hard all these years, surely I deserve a respite once in a while!”
Merlin chortles. “Oh yes, imagine that, having to work for all those meats and cheeses you get for meals everyday,”
“You will ride with me?” He presses on, loathing how his statement goes up at the end in question, but he must know.
Merlin’s eyes soften, his free hand rising to rest above the sigil, over his heart in a solemn pledge. It’s no knight’s oath, sworn to serve Camelot or even her ever changing ideals.
It’s an oath, not from servant to master, not even sorcerer to king- it’s an oath from Merlin to Arthur and Arthur alone.
----
All Merlin’s ever asked for from him is that he be a good king.
Not in as many words of course. He doubts Merlin will ever bring himself to truly ask anything of Arthur, not if he can help it and certainly not without a great deal of prying.
But if it means his daydreams never amount to anything more, it’s a price he’ll gladly pay to make certain he fulfills the one wish Merlin has come close to expressing.
----
The lack of recognition hurts far more than any flesh wound- the Questing Beast’s bite seems like a pup’s nip in comparison. Worse still is the confusion, the outrage at being grabbed by a presumed stranger.
“Merlin,” he implores in desperation, for lack of knowing what else to do.
However his fingers sting, Merlin’s wrist must sting more so from having wrenched his hand back, despite how he let go as soon as he felt Merlin move.
Merlin backs away wide eyed, even as he is half aware of how Leon has moved to intercept a pair of security guards summoned by onlookers.
“You promised,” he beseeches, “You promised the day I gave you my mother’s sigil.”
He feels the slightest guilt, seeing how Merlin’s hands had flown up to clutch at the sigil, at how those fingers tremble with emotion.
A sudden thought occurs. He laughs wetly at the memory. “You made butterflies then too,” he prods, “Butterflies, Merlin! Of all the things!”
Merlin shudders and it’s all he can do to hold himself back when all he wants is to reach out-
“Ride with me,” he breathes.
“Arthur.” Merlin swipes brusquely at his cheeks. And his heart soars, as it has never soared for the longest and he can’t help but gravitate forward.
“Arthur, we’re going to need horses for that.”
And he laughs, in relief and in indescribable joy, because “Sod the horses! Have you been on an Aston?”
#merthur#merlin#Arthur Pendragon#merlin bbc#merlin bbc art#art by op#animation#i don't know what to say#:'D#This is the 2nd and final part to the previous piece#i probably had some commentary but im afraid ive forgotten all about it#eh i'll add an edit later if i recall
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Marriage of Convenience
Prompt: A middle ages history major here! I love your writing so much!!! just an idea for u to marinate on if u want; since morgana was the only daughter with two brothers back then, even if the king was dead or incapable of ruling, she would still have to be married off before a son could regain the throne. So, if Arthur was real, he (and his partner) most likely be responsible for finding someone for his sister to marry. - anon
Read on Ao3
Warnings: none
Pairings: merthur, morgwen, mergwen, arwen, mergana, which ones are platonic and which ones romantic? who knows, not me
Word Count: 2329
Arthur sighs, bowing his head for a moment, before looking up. “Morgana.”
Morgana doesn’t turn, sitting up perfectly straight with her court face on, staring straight ahead.
“Morgana, please.”
“As you wish, My King,” she says, her voice perfectly even. Arthur winces.
“‘Gana, I don’t want this.”
“To my recollection,” she says, her voice sharpening with every word, “it does not matter what we want, but what honor and duty demand.”
“’Gana.”
“Well, what do you want me to say?” She looks at him with such ferocity that he thinks he sees her eyes flash gold. “That I’m happy to do this for you? That of course, my loyalty to Camelot is so great that I would shackle myself to a man that does not understand that you and I do not have to marry to rule?”
“No, I don’t want you to say any of that.”
“Because I don’t, Arthur.” Morgana stands in a swirl of skirts and begins to pace angrily up and down the length of the room. “I can be your advisor, the paperwork has already been drawn up, and none of the Council would dare oppose it.”
“But then you couldn’t rule if I weren’t able to!”
Morgana pauses at his shout, turning to look as Arthur stands and braces his hands on the table.
“I want you to rule with me,” he says finally, “you know I do.”
The tiniest of nods.
“But you also know that if I wasn’t able to rule—either because I was killed or put under a curse or struck by some—some—something,” Arthur insists, “you would not be able to rule either. It would go to someone else, either the—“
“The pompous arse who thinks it’s still alright to eat with his mouth open or the sniveling coward who winces every time a strong breeze blows past.”
“…yes.”
Morgana takes a deep breath. She raises her chin. Arthur watches her, waiting, trying to sort through the arguments on the tip of his tongue, to lay things out in a way for them to work through it, for her to still make the ultimate decision, when she sighs again and her shoulders slump.
“…I don’t want this, Arthur.”
Arthur’s chest aches at the sheer defeat in Morgana’s voice, slowly crossing the room to stand next to her. She closes her eyes and rests her head against his shoulder.
“I’m sorry, ‘Gana.”
She takes another breath. “If you marry me off to one of them, I will gut you in your sleep.”
He chuckles. “I know.”
They stand there for a moment longer together, breathing in the quiet before the storm.
“So,” Morgana says after a while, “who must I marry for the good of the kingdom?”
“I’m sure there’s a list of eligible noblemen somewhere,” Arthur sighs, pulling away and going to his desk, “we should…probably start there?”
Morgana watches him with idle amusement. “Why is it that you sound more dismayed by this process than I do?”
“Because, ‘Gana, you’re the one who’s actually going to marry the poor sod, and I’m going to be the one who hears about it for the rest of our lives.”
“Nonsense, I’ll have Gwen.”
“Right. Small mercies.”
“…is there seriously a list?”
Arthur gives her a look. “Out of all the things Uther Pendragon left to chance, do you really think your suitor would be one of them?”
“I suppose not.”
Still, when they finally get the list and it’s much, much shorter than they expected, they sigh.
“Do we think he had high expectations or are my prospects really this dismal?”
Arthur squints at the list of names. “All of these people either have…strategic value or their coffers are more than enough to make Camelot very, very comfortable.”
Morgana’s face pinches. He knocks his elbow against hers. “I’m fine, Arthur. I just—I never expected my marriage to be anything other than political.”
“…to be honest?” She looks up at him. “Neither did I.”
And oh, isn’t that the worst thing you’ve ever heard? To have so much power and yet, just as trapped?
“Well, I assume these are not my only options.”
“No, not by a long shot.”
Morgana raises an eyebrow. “And what is that supposed to mean?”
Arthur gives her a look. “I’m not going to explain that to you.”
“Oh, no, please,” Morgana says, folding her arms and grinning as Arthur pinches the bridge of his nose, “explain this to me. Why do I have near limitless options, as you’ve so implied?”
“Morgana, you are having the King of Camelot—the King, mind you—“
“Oh, yes, and you’re very kingly.”
“—pick out your husband. I could quite literally name any man your husband.”
“But you won’t,” she says sweetly, “because I would gut you in your sleep.”
“Threatening a king is treason, you know.”
“Threatening my brother is my duty.”
“Oh, according to what?”
“Sorry, that’s a sister-only rule.” She taps her finger. “And that is not the only thing you were going to say.”
He turns to her. “Oh, oh, and you know this how? What else, pray tell, was I going to say?”
“You’re not going to tell me of my beauty?” She lifts a hand to trail through her hair in a mocking version of what all the other court ladies do. “Of how men would ride for days and nights to see me?”
“As if I need to boost your ego more.”
“If you’re going to be the one to write the letters asking for their hand in marriage—“
“I most certainly will not.”
“—then you must speak of my fine qualities as a wife,” she says, batting her eyes and snorting when Arthur fakes a retch. “Oh, please, save that for when I remind you that we were supposed to marry.”
They pause.
One beat.
Two.
“No.”
“No, no, it’d never work.”
“No, thank you, I’ll pass.”
“What a horrible idea.”
“Can’t believe you said that.”
“No, neither can I.”
“I should gut you just for that.”
“Do, it will put us both out of the misery of having to do this.”
“But then the kingdom would fall to—“
“Ah. Yes. Best not, then.”
“Mm.” Morgana takes one last look at the list and sighs. “So, where does that leave us?”
“You could always take one of the knights as a husband,” Arthur suggests, pouring them each a drink from the jug on his desk.
“True.” She accepts it. “But which one?”
“Given your…opinions of the knights, I’m sure you’ve got a few in mind.” He gives her a look. “Or one, in particular.”
She hides her face behind the rim of the goblet as she takes a sip. “Hush.”
“No, really, I think that you’ve got one in mind,” Arthur smirks. “It’s not like you’ve ever said anything about it, nor have you insisted that there was a better candidate to train with you.”
“Arthur.”
“Really, I can’t imagine you having more than one knight in mind, though I’m sure I could guess.”
“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.”
“I’m sure Gwaine will be thrilled.”
“I don’t—Gwaine?” Morgana looks at him like he’s lost his mind. “It’s not Gwaine, what on earth are you talking about?”
Arthur bursts out laughing as she realizes she’s taken the bait. She slumps back into the chair and takes another drink.
“…well done,” she admits with grudging respect.
“Well,” he manages once he’s got control of himself, “I did learn from you.”
He waits a moment before continuing.
“I’m sure Leon would be honored,” he says, kinder now, “if you were to be wed.”
Morgana sighs, idly swirling the goblet. “I know. And he…he would be a good husband.”
“He would.”
She sighs again. “But he wouldn’t be happy.”
“No?” Arthur leans against the table. “Why not?”
“Because he would be obligated to leave his position to fulfill his sacred duties as a husband.” Morgana looks up at him. “And nothing in the world has given him as much purpose, contentment, or honor, as being the knight he is for the kingdom.”
Arthur raises his eyebrows. “And how do you know that?”
Morgana levels a glare at him. “Because unlike everyone else in this godforsaken kingdom, when I want to know something from someone, I talk to them.”
“Your tone is very pointed right now.”
“Wonder why that could be.”
“Morgana…”
“Oh, come off it!” She throws herself out of the chair with such ferocity that Arthur stumbles back. “Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about, you’ve been dancing around it the whole time!”
“Morgana, I—“ Arthur holds his hands out— “I genuinely have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Who are you going to wed, Arthur?”
Arthur stops. He blinks. “What?”
“You, Arthur, who are you going to wed?” Morgana stares daggers at him. “We both know that our marriages would be political. If I am being wed, then the things not covered by my marriage should be covered by yours. And if neither of us is clear on that, then—then—“
She throws her hands up.
“Then we may as well not have this discussion.”
Arthur watches her, his mouth hanging open. She glares at him and he shuts it with a click, before swallowing.
“…Morgana, I…the reason I wanted to do this was to make sure you could rule.”
“But I can’t unless I have a child.”
“Then I want you to have a child with someone who could help you raise them the way you want them raised,” Arthur says without missing a beat, “but I don’t—I—I don’t know how to do that.”
“Because you’re not thinking.”
“I’m trying, ‘Gana.”
“Not hard enough, apparently.”
“‘Gana—“
“Arthur,” she interrupts, “your marriage is going to be looked at even more than mine. What will it say that I get married before you do?”
“I don’t know, what will it say?”
“It will say the King does not understand the value of political marriages, as he has wed his sister off so quickly,” Morgana says, staring at him, “it will say that the King’s sister, in her marriage, has potentially ruined future alliances by being wed. It will say that—“
“Okay, okay,” Arthur sighs, “I get the point, we should marry at the same time.”
“Or at least similar ones.”
“But that doesn’t…that doesn’t explain why you said it like that.”
Morgana sighs. “Just because my marriage has to be political doesn’t mean that yours has to be.”
Arthur’s breath catches in his throat. She…is she…
“You’re the King,” she murmurs, “and if anyone should have the power to marry for love, then…then it should be you.”
“…’Gana…”
The weight of what she’s saying, what she’s offering, hits him square in the chest as if a horse had just run him over. He struggles for words, for breath, for anything, and can’t find it.
“Gwen, I assume,” Morgana’s voice comes after a moment, “she…I see the way you two look at each other and talk about each other.”
But Arthur’s shaking his head before she finishes. “No, that…that would also be a political marriage.”
Morgana frowns. “With Gwen?”
“Yes. I…” He swallows. “She would make an excellent Queen. An incredible Queen. But…”
“But what, you don’t…love her?”
Arthur swallows. “And I don’t think she loves me. Not like a husband should love his wife, not like a wife should love her husband.”
“But all of that, before, when you—“
“It was the worst thing I could do in Uther’s eyes,” Arthur says wearily, “and she was…she was the first friend I had in…ages.”
He looks up at her as he collapses into a chair.
“I don’t think she cares for me like that either, and I think you know that.”
Morgana sighs. “Well, there goes that.”
“Besides,” Arthur says, shifting, “her loyalty wouldn’t be mine first and foremost anyway.”
“No?”
“She’d be loyal to Camelot and me by proxy, yes, but…” Arthur looks up. “I think we both know who really has her loyalty, don’t we?”
A faint blush touches the tops of Morgana’s cheeks. “Yes, well, the same could be said of Merlin.”
“Merlin?”
“Oh, come on, like he isn’t the first friend you’ve ever had,” Morgana teases, “and he’d walk to hell and back for you.”
“So? What does that have to do with…” Arthur trails off. “Oh.”
“Now he gets it.”
“Oh.”
“Come on, I should get at least some thanks for making you get this far, I mean, you wouldn’t have done it on your own.”
“Oh, no.”
“Everything alright in there?” She reaches out to gingerly poke his forehead. “Does everything still work?”
He swats her hand away. “Shut up.”
“Come on,” she says again, a little softer this time, “just…just talk to him? Please? If not to spare the rest of the castle your pining?”
“Only if you talk to Gwen,” he retorts, “you two aren’t much better.”
“What good could come of that?”
“What good could come of me talking to Merlin?”
“Well, it’s not like I can marry Gwen!”
“And it’s not like I can marry Merlin!”
They stop.
They stare at each other.
And when poor Gwen and Merlin come into their chambers later, they barely have a moment to catch their breath before, suddenly, the two rulers of Camelot have become the four rulers of Camelot.
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12 Grimmauld Place (5/?)
Pairings: Sirius Black (post Azkaban) x reader, Remus Lupin x reader’s brother, Sirius Black x Slytherin!reader
Word Count: 2,909
Warnings: lil angsty
A/N: The longest chapter yet and it’s entirely in Sirius’ perspective! Hope I wasn’t too far off from his inner monologue. Also lots of spicy Tonks cause I love her.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 6
Sirius’ POV
Feeling intrusive, I caught Tonks’ eyes as Remus and Y/N hugged each other, her sobbing into his shoulder. With a quick twitch, I signaled to her that we let them have a moment. She nodded and followed me into the living room.
“Still haven’t gotten around to cleaning anything, have you?” she teased, gesturing to the layer of dirt and dust that seemed to cover every inch of the house.
“Whenever you feel up to joining in...” I teased back.
“Well, it looks like you’ll have Y/N to help you with that,” she responded, raising her eyebrows at me in a funny way.
“What?” I asked.
“Y/N,” she looked at me meaningfully. But not knowing what she meant, I stared blankly back. “You men--it’s a wonder you make it up in the morning by yourselves...Obviously, her flat is no longer safe. She’ll have to stay out of sight for a while too. What better place to both be safe and stay out of sight than here?”
“Stay here?” I asked dumbly. Sure, I figured she’d stay the night, but it never occurred to me that this would be the best place for her. But now that Tonks pointed it out, it did make sense. Not like she could go back to her blown flat; besides, she was vulnerable there. Vulnerable and alone.
“Yes, cousin. Are you alright?” she laughed at my bewildered state, but I didn’t find it so funny. It was difficult to ignore my feelings for her when I wasn’t seeing her every day. How was I supposed to manage now?
At school, it was easier to manage. In the hallways, I’d look at anyone but her, smirking at any girl I caught looking at me, any sort of distraction. But when Moony wanted to go have a chat with her, well, I’d have to plainly look away, instead contenting myself with glaring at passing male members of her house, daring any of them to speak up or look at her.
Remus had made his views very clear in the year of her arrival. He’d been gushing about since first year, always saying how she’d enjoy something or another. I still remember her terrified face during Sorting dissolving into a bright smile when her eyes found us seated at the Gryffindor table. Remus waved excitedly at her from his seat, the rest of us doing the same--all hoping she’d soon join us. However, upon seeing the rest of us with him, her face turned bright red, and her eyes went terrified once more. Before I could even shoot her a reassuring smile, she’d turned back to McGonagall. Unfortunately, she’d been placed in Slytherin, something we never let poor Moony forget. That night in the common rooms after everyone else had long gone to bed, he’d made us all swear to never lay a finger on her--to essentially be another three big brothers--never to look at her in any sort of way. Of course we all made the promise, but I couldn’t honor it.
I still found myself scouring the Great Hall for her face at mealtimes, ducking around shelves in the library in between classes looking for her. I always made sure to be on my best behavior in front of Remus, but behind his back, my eyes couldn’t wait to hungrily devour his sister. Her witty remarks as some Gryffindor teased her, her filthy mouth when a fellow Slytherin made the wrong comment--and just when I thought I couldn’t fall for her any more deeply, I’d caught her hexing a Gryffindor in the corridor. The poor bloke came out a few seconds later, clutching his jaw and nose, both of which were expanding at an alarming rate. She came skipping round the next moment, smiling broadly at her achievement. It was all I could do not to kiss her right then.
“Sirius?” Tonks asked, pulling me from my memories.
“Sorry, yes?” I asked, trying not to appear as anxious about it all as I was.
“What’s your problem?” she asked. Looking at her, I weighed my options. On the one hand, the only living soul who knew about how I felt about Y/N was now no longer, in fact, living. On the other, keeping it such a secret allowed me to continue in my friendship with Moony. Lovely as she was, I couldn’t have anything come between us. Not when we were the only ones left.
“I--” I started to begin the story, but upon remembering James, I stopped. “Nothing.”
“Sirius,” Tonks started, an offended look on her face. “I am your cousin. You tell me right now, or I’ll go get Remus, and he will.”
“You would, wouldn’t you,” I said, a fond smile coming on my face as I looked at her.
“I most certainly would.” she threatened. With her hands on her hips, I was suddenly reminded strongly of Mrs. Weasley, which only made my smile bigger. “Now, go on and tell me, you grinning git!”
“Alright, lower your voice. Can you keep a secret?” I asked, looking at my hands.
“Course I can,” she indignantly responded.
“Well, there’s a, a slight--er, problem, with Y/N staying,” I said quietly, keeping an ear out for her sniffles.
“Problem? What problem? Not like you don’t have enough rooms. Or is it you fancy her or something?” she said, laughing. I kept quiet, and after a moment or two, realization began dawning on her face.
“Oh, but Sirius, she’s Remus’ sister!” Tonks said, looking at me scoldingly.
“Don’t you think I know that, Nymphadora?” I barked, angry that she responded the way I feared.
At the sound of her birth name, her hair began burning bright red, and I retreated.
“Sorry, it’s just--I know, okay? I’m very much well aware of the fact she is Remus’ sister. Why do you think I’ve kept my distance all these years?” I said.
“Likely cause you were in Azkaban,” she pointed out. I gave her a nasty look, and she smiled softly. “Next time, don’t use my full name.”
I rolled my eyes and began anxiously pacing the floors. This was wrong; this was all wrong. The one girl Remus said was off-limits. All he let me get away with all those years at Hogwarts. With a fresh pang of guilt, I recalled a put-out looking Remus looking at me while I talked to a tall, blonde Ravenclaw during Charms. It was only years after I learned he’d had a thing for her--but to my defense, I’d have backed off without a complaint if he’d only told me.
“All these years?” Tonks said, liking working things out in her head. “Surely that doesn’t mean...since Hogwarts?”
“Yes,” I admitted miserably. “Since her first year.”
“First year?” she shouted.
“Keep down your voice.” I hissed at her, pausing to hear Remus speaking softly to Y/N.
“Sorry,” she winced. “But really, since first year and you’ve never said anything?”
“Well, I couldn’t. Remus made us all swear to leave her alone--and bloody hell, was that a job. After school, it was easier, once I was able to keep my distance. Out of sight, out of mind, as the Muggles say. Sorry, you know how Arthur loves his Muggles.” I laughed as she gave me a funny look. “And then--as you so astutely pointed out--I was in Azkaban. So it really hasn’t been a problem these last few years.”
“But now she’s living in your house,” she pointed out.
“Precisely,” I responded, running a hand over the scruff on my face. She remained quiet, looking thoughtful for a few minutes before responding.
“Well, this is just bloody ridiculous. You’ve got to do something,” she said.
“Do something? Do what? How could I betray Remus like that? He’s the only one left, Tonks. How am I supposed to betray him this way, especially after James, and then all the time apart, and then managing to let Peter slip through our fingers? I can’t do this to him.” I reasoned, beginning to harden my resolve.
“Oh, you are bloody ridiculous, you know that?” she sighed, running her fingers through her now bubblegum-pink hair.
“Excuse me?” I said, stopping my pacing to glare at her.
“Bloody ridiculous!” she repeated, “Sirius, that was years ago. That was a feeble promise forced to be made by an older brother before his friends got horny and couldn’t think straight.”
“What?” I said, pulling a face as I considered her words.
“Remus made you all promise that so young so she wouldn’t become a plaything of yours, especially when the both of you turned out to be such whores.” Tonks laughed.
“Whores? I was not a whore! And certainly not James, why after fifth year I don’t think I ever heard so much as a comment about any girl besides Lily.” I defended the both of us, vaguely aware of how I’d ridiculously brought my hands to my hips in indignation.
“Sirius, you’re family, you know I love you--but Merlin, you were the biggest sodding slut the whole of Gryffindor has ever seen! I’d bet there isn’t a room in the castle you haven’t done something naughty in.” she laughed once more. I opened my mouth to protest, but couldn’t come up with a room fast enough--only proving her point.
“Now, you two are not schoolchildren anymore. You are a grown man, Sirius. There’s no need to honor such a trivial and unnecessary pact.” She took a step towards me and put her hand on my cheek, dropping her voice. “Think of how much you’ve suffered, Sirius. Think of what you’ve lost; think of who you have lost. Remus has suffered the same loss. He lost James just as you did, but he also lost you. He thought you’d gone bad, thought Peter dead--James and Lily were dead. And then, years later, you return--innocent. You came back to him, and he, you. Things like that change a man. I’m sure there’s no one on this planet he trusts more with his sister than you. Don’t sacrifice your happiness for one more minute, cousin. Especially not when things look so similar to how they looked before, back when it all went wrong. Don’t waste another minute; I’m not going to either.”
Shaken at her words, I remained quiet for a few moments. So much had changed since that night in Gryffindor tower. Maybe he wouldn’t mind the idea so much anymore. Besides, he trusted me enough to keep her safe.
My happiness...I’d never given the idea much thought, never considered it much of a possibility after being imprisoned. Never had reason to since. But now, my brain was swimming with possibilities.
“Hang on,” I said, remembering the end of her monologue. “You aren’t going to either?”
She cursed under her breath before looking at me.
“Noticed that, did you?” she grimaced. I merely looked at her expectantly. “Alright, fine. Can you keep a secret?”
“I mean, if I outed you, you could just out me,” I pointed out.
“True, alright. Well, it’s Remus,” she whispered, avoiding my eyes.
“You and Remus?” I asked, frowning in thought.
“And what about it?” she said, looking at me testily.
“Well, nothing really. It’s just I never thought about it...are you sure?” I asked after a moment. I loved them both, but the thought had never even crossed my mind once. Surely if there was something between my cousin and my best friend, I’d have suspected something by now.
“Of course I’m sure, you git,” she hissed at me.
“So then why aren’t you together?” I asked. I couldn’t think of any reason they shouldn’t be if they both felt that way. Not like I had a sit down with the lot of them about not dating her.
“Because he too is being ridiculous. Refuses to even look at me most of the time. Says I’m too young, says I deserve better than him.”
“Better than Moony? Good luck with that one, cousin.” I laughed, shaking my head at the thought.
“That’s what I keep saying, but he’ll hear none of it. Says I deserve better than a shabby, poor old werewolf.” she rolled her eyes.
“Is that really what he thinks of himself as? A shabby old werewolf?” I asked, sad for my friend. If anybody deserved happiness, it was Remus. Before she could answer, we heard him calling.
“Pads?” I suddenly heard. He entered the room alone, smiling softly at the two of us.
“Hey, mate.” I smiled at him, opening my arms once more. Remus had always grudgingly accepted my affection, which only made me more inclined to give it knowing it bothered him. And as I knew he would, he rolled his eyes and smiled as he accepted.
“Perhaps we should stay...” Remus said, looking to Tonks and then back to the kitchen.
“Ooh no, you don’t. We’ve got to go, cut up sister or not. Besides, who better to take care of her than Sirius? Isn’t as if he’s got anything better to do. Perhaps she could persuade him in actually cleaning something in this wretched house.” Tonks added, gesturing to filth. I glared at her but remained silent; she was right. The house was filthy, but it was painful enough to be here, let alone restore the bloody thing.
“Suppose you’re right...” Remus said after a moment, “Take good care of her, Pads.”
“Course I will, Moony. Always took good care of you, didn’t I?” I jeered.
“Not bloody likely! And don’t you go taking credit for that, that was all Madam Pomfrey,” he scolded, wagging his finger at me like he used to as a Prefect. “The group of you could hardly stand to sit still in the hospital wing for half an hour, let alone get me through a transformation!” As Remus told his story, Tonks looked at him with a funny look, and with an alarming pang, I realized Y/N often shot me the very same look. Did that mean she felt for me as Tonks felt for Remus?
“That is bang out of order, mate! I worked hard at becoming an Animagi! Took years, it did. Don’t remember seeing Madam Pomfrey out trotting about with a teenage werewolf. Besides, kept your arse out of trouble!” I bantered back, smiling jovially.
“Oh, it just as easily could’ve gotten me in trouble,” Remus shook his head at the memories.
“But it didn’t, did it?” I teased, “You know you loved it just as much as we did, Moony. Try as you might to remain all high and mighty. Ickle Prefect Moony,” I jeered, poking at him as he laughed.
“Alright, alright. C’mon, let’s go before the two of you really start down memory lane. We’ve got to meet Dumbledore.” Tonks said, gently steering Remus towards the door.
“Hang on, you’re going to Hogwarts?” I asked. I couldn’t help but be jealous.
“Briefly. That wretch woman gets nosy when we’re there for more than a quick pop in.” Remus said; the disgusted look on his face told me he meant Umbridge.
“Ah, well, say hello to Harry for me if you see him. I hear the little scamp likes roaming round nearly as much as we did.” I smiled after them.
“That he does; I still remember catching him with that map...I don’t even know how he got ahold of it. James would’ve been so proud, out in the dark corridors taunting Snape. Like father, like son.” Remus smiled fondly at the memory before hanging his head slightly and ambling off to join Tonks. My chest hurt at the mention of James and Harry, and I was once more painfully reminded of my solitude. What I wouldn’t give to see James again...
I followed them to the door, waving goodbye as the two of them popped out of sight. I stared longingly at the spot where they’d disapparted.
Standing in place, I gave myself a moment to gather my thoughts before returning to the kitchen.
Tonks had made many good points, but were they just good because I was looking for any kind of reason to be with her? Did they actually make sense, or was I just looking for an out?
Remus had only made us promise once in the wee hours of the morning in the Gryffindor common room. Besides, if family was off-limits, well, that made him a right hypocrite, didn’t it? He did leave her here with me though, with the promise I’d take good care of her. That meant, to some degree, Remus trusted me with her. Would I be breaking that trust by going with my gut with Y/N?
Good and evil continued to argue on my shoulders, but if I waited for a decision, I might be here for years.
What’s more, was she even interested in me? I mean, sure, I’d caught her staring in school--but that was years ago; a lot had changed since then. But then there was the blush that always colored her cheeks every time I said something cheeky, the relief on her face when I’d met her in the port key room. Surely she wouldn’t let someone she detested bathe her, right?
I resolved to simply flirt. If that went well, then she felt something too. And if she felt something too...well, let me not get ahead of myself.
*******************************
Taglist: @geeksareunique @fredweasleysbitchh @green-intervention @stopbeingcurious
#Harry Potter#harry potter fanfiction#Harry Potter Smut#Hermione Granger#Ron Weasley#Granger#Ginny Weasley#Fred and Goerge Weasley#weasley twins#weasley#tonks#remus x tonks#remus lupin x tonks#sirius black#sirius black x reader#sirius black smut#sirius black fanfiction#sirius#black#post azkaban sirius#sirius x reader#Draco Malfoy#Draco#daddy draco#draco malfoy smut#draco malfoy x reader#draco x reader#Crabbe and Goyle#vincent crabbe#Gregory Goyle
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Something in the Way (Fred Weasley)
Fred Weasley x Reader
The trope of everyone else knowing two people are in love before the two have figured it out is just so adorable to me, I love reading it so thought I’d try my hand at writing it...
Fem!Reader, no house mentioned, no specific physical features
Warnings: None I don’t think
Word Count: 1.6k
Although I am using the Harry Potter universe as a basis for this story I do not support JK Rowling or her views.
Fred and Y/N’s relationship was special, everyone knew that. What they shared was unlike anything anyone had ever seen. Fred and Y/N’s relationship was loving and tender, both always willing to put the other first whatever the cost. Fred and Y/N’s relationship was lasting, for the last three years they had been looking at each other like they were the sole reason for the stars in the sky, the mists on the mountains and the full, glowing moon.
Except Fred and Y/N’s relationship didn’t exist. The two had been dancing around each other all this time, never quite getting close enough to call it love.
This was why their family and friends were on high alert, overanalyzing every look, comment, or touch exchanged by the pair. Sometimes it was the glance thrown by Ginny to George as Fred adjusted Y/N’s scarf to keep her warmer. Sometimes it was Mr and Mrs Weasley whispering conspiracies about how they couldn’t pinpoint the look in Fred’s eyes when he stared at Y/N intently at dinner earlier. Sometimes it was the abrupt and secretive silence that engulfed Harry, Hermione and Ron when Y/N appeared in front of them, bringing an end to their discussion about how oblivious the two were.
Just the other day at the Burrow the twins had been helping to decorate the tree when Molly had piped up
“Will Y/N be visiting this Christmas?” Fred’s head whipped round to frown at his mother as he finished adjusting some of the shiny muggle ‘tinsel’ Arthur Weasley had gleefully presented to his family,
“Why would Y/N be visiting?” he had questioned, shaking his head slightly and looking towards George, who averted his eyes towards a particulary intriguing bewitched bauble.
“Oh no reason,” Molly’s face fell “I just wanted to make sure she had some plans is all, dear...”
“Yeah, she does. She’s away until the new year actually” Fred had huffed, confused as to why his mother seemed more keen to spend time with his best friend than with him.
It was a frosty Saturday in January that Y/N had sent an owl saying she was popping in that afternoon to check out the stock for the new year. The air was clean and crisp yet cold enough that not many shoppers were braving the chill to visit Diagon Alley. The boys leant against the counter, George fumbling with some packaging distractedly. Ron was also working that day, taking his sweet time stacking some Blaze Boxes in the corner. Fred’s eyes kept darting to the clock,
“When did she say she’d stop by again?” he asked nonchalantly, causing George to look up
“Eh, just said afternoon I think mate, don’t worry though I’m sure we won’t be too busy to have her in” he gestured to the empty shop.
Fred stayed silent. In the corner a loud bang erupted as Ron dropped one of the boxes. Bright sparks whizzed round the room, popping and fizzing as Ron stood swearing at the front of the shop. George began to laugh but was interrupted by his twin, fist was clenched and brow furrowed -
“Bloody hell Ron, save some stock for us to actually sell, would you?”
Fred’s tone was snarky and a comment that biting sounded so strange leaving his mouth that it took all three boys aback for a moment.
“I’m not sure who spiked your cereal this morning but you can lose that tone with me... maybe when Y/N gets here you’ll be a bit nicer!” Ron pouted.
“Y/N’s clearly forgotten about her plans for this afternoon, or she’d be here by now.” Fred muttered, pushing past George on his way to the stock room.
George and Ron exchanged familiar confused looks, over the three years Y/N had been in Fred’s life an entirely new language of bewildered or disbelieving stares had formed amongst the Weasleys. Fred didn’t emerge until the bell above the door rang and Y/N’s soft voice greeted them all joyfully. As if a weight had been lifted off his chest he bounded past the till and embraced her tightly.
“I missed you, loser.”
Only a week later, the twins were sitting opposite each other, both focusing on checking the shop’s accounts (or so Fred thought) George had been turning the last interaction between his brother and Y/N over and over in his mind, wondering how on earth Fred hadn’t connected his bad mood to the absence of his dearest ‘friend’. He coughed and sat up, straightening his back, but failed to make eye contact with his brother who was still hunched over the large leather-bound book.
“Why do you think Y/N is single?” he pondered aloud, noting the way Fred’s head flicked up at the mention of her name alone.
“That’s obvious - nobody we know is good enough for her.” Fred stated, as if George was silly for not considering such a simple explanation.
“Ah yeah... obviously,” George coughed, attempting to hide his laugh. He made eye contact with his twin “are you sure we don’t know anyone?” he asked slowly, hoping Fred might finally catch on.
“Listen, I don’t know what this is all about but if you’re thinking of trying anything I would advise you to check the mirror to confirm that you closely resemble a mountain troll.. and I know it’s been 2 days since you last showered, therefore Y/N would never even consider it, okay?” Fred snapped
George spluttered with laughter before managing to stammer out
“First off, we’re identical you absolute savage.”
Fred just shook his head, “Anyone with taste knows I’m the better looking twin.”
Fred wasn’t just fiercely protective of Y/N but he would also go to the ends of the earth for her, this much was clear to everyone...except her. It started with one, two, three butterbeers on him and developed into Y/N being able to attend plans with the twins without her purse. It was established that Fred would not allow her to part with as much as a knut whilst in his company. Nor would he allow her to spend it on his company, any product she showed interest in (or looked at for more than five seconds) was hastily put aside for her, sometimes with a shimmering ribbon clumsily knotted round it.
“As a gift, on the house, absolutely no need for your money darling” he would assure her every single time.
In fact, the only payment he would accept was if she came to work for Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes - “you’d be amazing, Y/N you’re so good with kids, and I know you can really push sales - who could say no to you?” he had pleaded, whilst she flushed red and chuckled... “funnily enough Freddie, pretty much everyone apart from you can say no to me, you poor sod!”
This hypothesis was correct, and had been proven time and time again. When everyone gathered for dinner at Harry and Ginny’s house instead of apparating in Fred, Y/N and George had stood shivering on the doorstep, waiting for the door to be answered. When Ginny pulled it open all three of them bundled in to the warm hallway, slipping off coats and hats.
“Why didn’t you guys apparate? It’s bloody freezing out there tonight!” she had remarked, noting that all three had cheeks flushed with cold and pink shading the tips of their noses. George tutted and glared at Fred, speaking lowly so only Ginny could hear
“Because, my dear sister, Y/N doesn’t really like apparating so obviously Fred wouldn’t allow it!” At the same time Y/N piped up, not having heard his comment,
“We all fancied a walk I think didn’t we Freddie?... George?”
George rolled his eyes but nodded enthusiastically and Y/N beamed as Ginny led them through to the dining room as the feeling in their fingertips began to return.
The spread that had been prepared looked divine, the smell travelled through the whole house and made Fred’s mouth water.
Food was shared around and wine poured, everyone caught up on the excitement of Christmas and the New Year, and congratulated the twins on the soaring sales of the new launch. George took the chance to mention his new girlfriend, Guenevere, to the group - causing Ginny and Hermione to squeal with delight and Ron to lean over and smack him on the back in congratulations. Harry nodded along with the conversation, focused on the plate infront of him. That is, until he looked at Fred quizically
“When do you think you’ll meet someone, Fred?” he asked gently, with not a hint of malice in his voice, if anything he was trying to nudge Fred’s thoughts of the future towards Y/N, who sat on his left.
The atmosphere in the room felt a little like a joke that everyone except Fred and Y/N were in on, everyone waited with baited breath for Fred to talk. They gasped slightly when he turned to face Y/N... then George...
“Um, I don’t know, really, at the moment I’m alright just hanging out with George and Y/N, they’re all I really need just now... and you guys, of course, and the shop. But that all goes without saying”
The entire table let out a frustrated sigh, they had been so close but were once again disappointed with his answer, Fred was none the wiser.
‘Goes without saying my arse’ George (and the others) thought grumpily. All they wanted was Fred to say it, to say anything, to call it what it was.
The two had been dancing around each other almost four years, still never getting close enough to call it love.
A/N: Thought I’d give another bit of Fred writing a go, as my George one has been so much more popular than my last Fred one, give the boy a chance! Also this kind of invites a part two, so if anyone has any suggestions of scenarios in which these two finally get together, send em my way. Much love.
#fred weasley x reader#fred weasley imagine#fred weasley one shot#fred weasley fic#harry potter imagines#harry potter one shots#harry potter fic#fred weasley fluff#hp fic#hp imagine#hp one shot#fred weasley
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Not quite fandom celebration post not quite on Wednesday for the end of the year.
Thank you for sharing your headcanons with me, fandom! Perhaps I am easily amused, but I love to hear your fanon and your headcanons for characters, especially when they are different from mine! I imagine us gossiping on a front porch two hundred years ago or around a bonfire, “Did you know Little Steve Rogers became a Russian assassin? I heard the angel Aziraphale is in disgrace from heaven and is a now dragon demon and kidnapped a small boy from the American ambassador! Uther Pendragon, you know him, oil baron quarreling with his son and calling poor Arthur an ecoterrorist of all things? And Legolas, I hear he has the most complex hair care routine and his dwarf husband spares no expense spoiling him, lucky sod!!!”
Fandom has kept me company over so many real life hard times. I hope it continues on bringing me joy in 2022. Use your imagination. Tell me about your version of trans Spock and emotionally tangled Crowley (SPN or Good Omens versions!) Tell me what Wash is doing now because in your Firefly Everyone Lives fanon, he’s still kicking. Tell me what happens in your fanon scenario of Deanna Troi gone dark. What do you think makes Sherlock tick and how is it different than what I think?
It’s okay if someone sees your favorite character in a different way than you do. And remember, we are people in all stages of life experience behind these screens. The world is not black and white, and the toy box is open for everyone to play in.
#fandom celebration#fandom irl#cherik#merthur#merlin#good omens#ineffable husbands#the hobbit#bagginshield#lotr#johnlock#sherlock#granada holmes#stargate sg 1#star trek tng#star trek tos#insert your fandom here
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The Broken Crown- Chapter 1
Hello! So this is my first Peaky Blinders Fanfiction. I own nothing, except for the few OCs I created.
This story is also on Wattpad and FF.net under the same title if you want to read it there as well--- however be warned it is not as edited as this post and I changed the name of one of the characters because I thought it was a better fit... lol!
Summary: All Margaret Shelby ever wanted, was the opportunity to write her own story. Only now is she beginning to realize that her brother may have already written it for her...
Enjoy!
OoOoOo
"He's a ghost, he's a god, He's a man, He's a guru,
You're one microscopic cog, In his catastrophic plan
Designed and directed by his red right hand"
~Red Right Hand~
1919
She had that dream again, the one where she had to decide which door she would open. Both doors were identical in every way. Yet, she just stands in the empty room lit as if by candles; frozen in place; The weight of the decision ultimately waking her out of-
No, that wouldn't do, a dark-haired girl thought as she scratched out the words she had just written down. In a small bedroom on the second floor of number Seventeen Watery Lane, sixteen-year-old Margaret Shelby sat on her bed, or rather the bed she shared with her older sister. Dressed in the long white nightgown that had once belonged to her mother and with a pen in hand, she scribbled down more words in her brown leather-bound journal resting on her lap. The journal was gifted to her by her Aunt Polly on her most previous birthday. Upon receiving it she couldn't wait to fill its pages. She liked writing, ever since she learned how to form her words into a cohesive sentence on paper. It had been an outlet, a distraction from the "shit-hole" that was Small Heath, Birmingham.
As a child, she had the fondest memories of taking the drawings her eldest brother Arthur would sketch and would accompany his rendering with an original story. She took pride in how much he would always be so impressed and relished when he called her “his little genius". As the years passed, she believed if she could write and publish a story that was good enough, then maybe one day she could provide for her family. Give them a way out of their current situation. Not that she knew much of how dire their situation really was. To their credit, her family tried their best to shield her, as well as her youngest brother Finn, from feeling the effects of living a life in the slums. She was lucky in that way, most of the girls her age had dropped out of school and had a child of their own already.
Her thoughts of prose were soon interrupted by familiar sounds causing the pit of her stomach to sink. Even after three months of him being back, she doubted she would ever get used to it. Opposite from her bed, through the thin wall with floral green wallpaper which had been peeling off for years, muffled cries could be heard. Maggie knew exactly who it was, her brother, Tommy.
She placed her journal onto the thin cotton sheets and traveled into the hallway. Before she knew it, she was standing outside the door of her older sibling. Taking a deep breath, she decided against knocking and slowly opened the door.
"Tommy?" she whispered into his candlelit room. She could see he was awake. Lying flat on his back in bed, staring at the ceiling.
"Go back to bed, Mags," the second oldest Shelby ordered, but the girl hesitated.
"I thought I heard yelling," she sounded apologetic, before taking a whiff of the air. "Do you smell that?"
"I said back to your bloody bed," his harsh tone surprised her.
This time she did listen, gently she closed her brother's door and made her way back to the empty bedroom she once was in.
OoOoOo
The next day, Margaret exited the small school she attended that was located right on the edge of Small Heath with her best friend Cara Ryan by her side. The girls had played together for as long as their memories had served them. Cara was a stylish and talkative girl who stood at a height of five feet and six inches. Dazzling green eyes sparkled and her straight honey blonde hair fell upon her shoulders. Her family did better than most, the Ryan's own a dress shop that is very popular amongst the younger women, Ada, in fact, is a frequent customer of the establishment. Though the word 'customer' was a loose term, the Ryan's like most shop owners in the area were obliged to give anyone with relations to the Peaky Blinders whatever they wanted. Mrs. Ryan's and the two oldest sisters operated it, and in her spare time, Cara could often be found working in the backroom, sewing buttons and beads to fabrics. The family had a deal, in a year's time Cara would come to work for the shop full time, but until then Cara could continue her education.
"Can't believe Henrietta's having a baby," Maggie said aloud, as shorter and younger students ran past them excitedly.
"I can," Cara replied smugly. "That girl would open her legs up for any sod that gave her a second glance."
"I feel bad for her." She admitted thinking of the fifteen-year-old whose life was now forever changed.
Cara shook her head, "Don't it's her own bloody fault."
After rounding the corner, they both saw Ross Murray. A thin nineteen-year-old with dark hair standing at five feet and eleven inches, resting his back against the dull red brick wall, smoking a cigarette. Cara stopped them in their tracks and waved at the young man. "All right, Ross?!"
Maggie smiled at her friend, she liked Ross, he'd always looked out for her and Cara like they were his own sisters. They had all been in school together up until the moment Ross was kicked out for beating up another boy named Jonah Smith. In all likelihood Jonah may have had it coming. He never had the ability to let go. For example, just last year Maggie would have to constantly have to turn down his advances for over a month. Due to the reputation of her family, attention from boys was a rare occurrence. Which she didn't mind, she never really felt romantic feelings for anyone. However, Jonah took advantage of her brothers absence. One day he even cornered her when she went back to the classroom to grab the jumper she left behind. Thankfully Jonah eventually stopped, and never bothered her again.
Getting kicked out of school didn't seem to bother Ross though. Once he turned eighteen, he enlisted to help with the war effort. He completed basic training within the required three months, and according to the letters he would send her and Cara, he was held in high esteem with all of his commanding officers. Just as he was about to be shipped to France, an armistice was declared. He'd managed to find a job working at the BSA factory rather quickly, but when he came back into town Maggie could tell he had changed. He now had this mentality that made him seem as though he was ready for a battle, yet had no one to fight.
"Cara, Margaret," he acknowledged, stubbing out his cigarette on the bricks he had rested his back upon "Where are you two heading, aye?"
"Just going home," Maggie told him, readjusting the bag on her shoulder.
He came closer to them, "I'll walk with you. Birmingham hasn't been the safest place now that all these blokes with fucked up brains are back."
"Look at that Mags," Cara said happily, and he allowed her to take his arm. "The only gentleman in Small Heath"
Maggie smiled knowingly at the sight. Since Cara was ten years old, she had been smitten with the dark-haired boy. Cara would frequently turn down other offers in hopes that Ross would one day ask her to be his girl. They both hoped that it would happen soon, because in Cara's words "She wasn't getting any younger".
"Don't know what you two keep going to school for," He expressed to them, as they began to walk in the direction the girls needed to travel. "What more is there to learn?"
His comment made Maggie shrug, "It's something to do."
"Yeah, most girls our age who aren't in school are either whores or mothers." She agreed. "Or both."
They continued chatting about their school day as they walked closer into town. The canal that ran nearby as well as the different establishments were coming into view. "Mags, is that your brother?" Ross asked, pointing to a couple of boys.
Maggie turned her head to where her friend was pointing. He was right, her younger brother Finn, was running around in front of the pharmacy with Isaiah Jesus. He must have skipped school again. "Oi!" Maggie called out angrily, and Finn froze in place "What have you been up to all day, hm?"
"Please don't tell Tommy," the ten-year-old begged.
Maggie was about to tell him off, but she was caught off guard by the arrival of a person exiting Compton's, "Ada?"
"Oh, hello." The dark-haired beauty clutched the paper parcel tighter in her hands, clearly caught off guard by the sudden appearance of her younger siblings. "Heading home then?"
Maggie nodded and Ada continued, "I'll join you." The older sister then turned to her brother "Right Finn?" The boy scowled, but nodded all the same.
"I'll see you tomorrow," Maggie told her friends, still trying to process what her sister was up to.
Cara didn't seem to mind her best friends' announcement to depart. Turning to the hazel-eyed boy she asked, "Fancy accompanying me to the confectionery?"
He looked over to the Shelby family first, "Will you three be alright by yourself?"
Ada looked amused at his worry, "We'll be fine. I doubt anyone would mess with us." He accepted her answer with a nod and led Cara to the candy shop.
As the water rushed in the cut, Ada and Maggie walked down the sidewalk arm in arm. Finn wasn't too far in front of them. He was running and jumping around like a madman. That boy always had so much energy, Maggie found herself thinking. No wonder he skipped school, the poor thing probably could not sit still.
"That Murray boy has aged well hasn't he," Ada commented, finally breaking the silence, "Have you two?"
"Ada!" The younger sister cried out in surprise.
"Just asking." She shrugged, "Jesus you're a prude"
"Everyone's a prude compared to you" she retorted, "What were you doing at the pharmacy?"
Ada didn't reply though, instead opting to purse her lips. They were almost home now; Maggie could even see Pol heading to the house, traveling towards them. She was about to wave at her aunt until she was distracted by Finn, who ran around in front of his sisters. Her heart clenched when she noticed a black metal object in his hand.
"Finn, where did you get that gun?" she questioned, yet the youngest Shelby only giggled in response.
"Oi! Quit messing around," Ada scolded, moving forward in an attempt to take the weapon away. "You shouldn't b-"
BANG! The sisters screamed and Aunt Polly, who had witnessed the whole event transpire, rushed over from down the street. Both the girls tried to catch their breath and a shocked Finn looked like he was trying to mentally process what had just happened.
"The hell were you thinking?!" Polly scolded, snatching the gun from his hand. "Where did you get this?!
"He nearly fucking killed me!" Ada screeched pointing to her brother.
"I-I found it on the sideboard of the shop." Finn spit out as they watched his face concave and he soon began weeping in fear. "I-I thought it was empty. I'm sorry I didn't mean to-"
His tears pulled on Maggie's heartstrings, but Polly wasn't having it. She pushed the sobbing boy towards Maggie ordering, "Take him home, and no more playing with guns. Next time you leave them be."
The young boy nodded and allowed his sister to lead him back home."I didn't know Mags, I swear" he cried out again.
"I know you. You can apologize to Ada once she's feeling more forgiving" she expressed, her arms wrapped around his small shoulders.
OoOoOo
Childhood had molded her into the person she had become. Now she understood that...
Maggie internally groaned and scratched out what she had just written. No, that was definitely not good enough. She was pulled out of her thoughts when she heard a chuckle. Her eyes were taken off the page by Ada, who was getting ready for her date with some mystery man.
"What's so funny?" the younger sister grumbled.
"You," Ada smiled as she brushed her hair in front of the small vanity mirror, "And how seriously you take yourself."
Quickly she closed her journal, wanting to change the subject "So, what was the family meeting about?" Maggie asked, not genuinely curious.
"New copper’s coming to town," Ada replied unbothered, more interested in fastening her shoe buckle.
"When I went downstairs, I caught Finn trying to listen through the door. Told him off for eavesdropping," the younger sister snickered .
"Can you believe that little tosser?" Ada said, putting on her paste earring. "I don't know what's gotten into him lately. He could have killed me today!"
"It was an accident, Ada." She reasoned, opening her journal once more, "Pol already told him and John off, what more can you do?"
"I can still bitch," the older sister huffed, before looking at the book in her sisters' hands. "Are you ever gonna tell me what you're writing about?" Ada asked pointedly, now completely dressed in a white fur coat that rested over her dress.
"Are you ever gonna tell me who you've been going out to see the last few months?" Maggie shot back jokingly.
Ada responded by pantomiming the locking of her lips, which only made the younger sister smile. "Cover for me?"
"As always," The girl assured Ada before she quietly opened and closed the bedroom door.
It was about an hour later when Maggie began to hear the familiar muffled cries. Feeling hopeless as she stared at the green papered wall.
OoOoOo
The following day was mostly uneventful for Margaret. She'd gone to school and heard all about Cara's "date" with Ross. According to Cara, he was a complete "gentleman", much to the blonde's disappointment, though she still clung onto hope.
Now she stood in the kitchen with her Aunt and sister making dinner, continuously kneading some dough until her skinny arms began to burn. Hopefully, this batch of bread would last long enough for her to enjoy. Last time she made bread her siblings had eaten it all, not saving any for her. Upon hearing the door slam, she and her aunt stopped to glance over to the door.
"Holy Shit!" The girl exclaimed, witnessing her eldest brother who was bloody and beaten, being assisted by John into a wooden chair.
"Finn, go find Tommy and tell him what happened," Polly commanded. Like a shot, Finn was running out of the room, but not before Pol hurriedly added, "And tell him we need a shit ton of more alcohol!"
Polly then immediately began to gather gauze and rods of wood to make a splint, "Margaret, start heating up water, then cut this cloth up in stripes." Nodding at the directive, the girl began to do just that.
"The fuck happened?" Ada interrogated, arms crossing in front of her chest.
"Was told some of the men found him like this outside the cinema," John explained.
"Do you know who?" Maggie heard her sister continue as she put the kettle over the flame, but Arthur remained silent.
"I'd like to know as well," An aggravated Polly chimed in.
This time Arthur did speak. “That Belfast copper,” the mustached man spit out, "I'll discuss it more once Tom gets here."
They all fell into silence, the only noise coming from Maggie who pulled out a chair to sit next to her brother, and quietly began cutting the cloth Polly left for her on the table. "Do you think this is enough?" Maggie asked her aunt after she finished.
"Should be plenty, love," Pol told her, taking one of the strips to start mending his hand.
"John, wipe the blood out of his eye," Ada told the third eldest sibling who was just watching the ladies scrabble around as they tended to Arthur.
"Since when did you give orders?" John asked incredulously.
"I'm a trained nurse." The sister stated.
Though seeing as John wasn't budging Maggie rose from her seat and began to wipe the blood herself.
"Don't make me laugh. It hurts my face," Arthur joked as Polly bandaged him up. "You're a nurse like Mags here is a writer."
His comment caused more annoyance than Maggie cared to admit. With her index finger, she pressed onto a forming bruise on his cheek with great pressure, instigating a string of curses to come out of the eldest man's mouth.
"Oops," Maggie said insincerely. This caused Arthur to look to his aunt, wondering if any reprimanding would be given to the girl, but Polly just gave her brother a 'like you weren't asking for it' look.
"I bloody am!" The older Shelby girl whined to John.
"You went to one first aid class in the church hall and got thrown out for giggling," John corrected her.
"Not before I learnt how to stop somebody from choking," she shot back.
"I'm not bloody choking, am I?" Arthur spoke gruffly.
"You will be when I wrap this cloth around your neck." She told him as she poured hot water from the kettle into the bowl.
"Let me see him." Tommy's voice was heard as he entered the kitchen. "Well, have this" Tommy passed the bottle of rum and Arthur took a swig. Grabbing a rag, he immediately got to work tending to his brother's face.
"He said Mr. Churchill sent him to Birmingham. 'National interest', he said. Something about a robbery." Arthur explained. "He said he wants us to help him"
"We don't help coppers," John said immediately, disgusted at the thought.
"He knew all about our war records. He said we're patriots like him. He wants us to be his eyes and ears. I said -" He paused a moment before continuing, "I said we'd have a family meeting and take a vote".
Everyone remained silent, and frankly, that was enough of an answer to the eldest. "Why not? We have no truck with Fenians or communist," Arthur said exasperated, before heatedly asking Tommy. "What's wrong with you?"
Tommy continued to stare back at him, before asking his aunt, "What the fuck is wrong with him lately?"
"If I knew I'd buy the cure from Compton's Chemist," Polly answered, staring at Tom who stared right back.
OoOoOo
Being alone at night was something Maggie had gotten used to now. The cries next door, however, that was something entirely different. Sighing to herself, she decided to give it another go. Once again, she rose from her bed, and ventured into the hallway. This time though she brought her journal with her. Not long she stood in front of her brother's door, allowing herself to open it.
Again, in the candlelit room, she saw him lying in his bed staring at the ceiling, though she couldn't tell if his eyes were open or not. "Still awake?" she asked.
"Can't seem to fall asleep," Tommy mumbled calmly. She took his stillness as permission to enter.
"Do you remember when I was a little girl and you used to read me books to make me fall asleep?" she asked, moving closer to the bed, "I used to love those voices you'd do for all the different characters from the picture books."
He nodded and he couldn't help the ghost of a smile while thinking of the memory. Unlike his other siblings, Maggie was the only one who would beg him to read to her. It was something they bonded over.
"If you want," she continued, motioning her hand to hold the journal up. "I can read you my story." Tommy was silent as he looked at the journal for a moment, before Maggie added, "I just thought maybe I could try to help you sleep like you did for me."
"Only if you do voices" he stressed jokingly, then shifted his body to make room for her on the small mattress.
"Remember," she squished next to him leaning her back against his bed frame. "This is a work in progress."
"I won't judge you too harshly" he replied, watching her open the journal that lay on her lap.
"Long ago when she was young, she believed that what she saw in her dreams could be a vision of what was to come. It was only now she understood that it was just an amalgamation of-"
"A what?" He interrupted.
"An amalgamation" she repeated. "Do you not know what an amalgamation means?"
"No, I do. Didn't think you did."
"Shut up. You're supposed to allow my words to lull you to sleep."
"Sorry, please continue"
"It was only now she understood that it was just an amalgamation of all her childhood aspirations, fears, and perhaps a little too much whiskey. With this knowledge she found herself yearning for-"
By this point, Tommy had closed his eyes and was half-listening to the words his sister read from her journal. It wasn't half bad what she wrote. He reckoned by the time she was his age she'd actually make something of herself all with those stories in her head. Perhaps make a career out of it, possibly even get out of Small Heath. It was to be the start of a new decade, a new time, who knows what would happen? When he finally made it back from France, her face was the first face that caught his attention on the station platform. It shocked him. No more was the little girl he would read stories to, but in her place stood a smiling young woman. She had changed so much during the time he was gone.
Come to think of it, they'd all changed. Arthur was head of the family, in charge of the business, and had done a decent job of it. But that was before France, he was different now. He quickly noticed the change in his brother and how he couldn't think straight anymore. Arthur's personality became more explosive, as well as violent. John, well he had become more reckless, especially after a few drinks got into him, and since Martha's passing the drinking had only increased.
As for him, well he was the one who had changed the most. He used to be carefree, joke and laugh, but now he was more solemn and even more protective of his family. Constantly worrying about how Arthur couldn't handle the business anymore, how John couldn't be alone anymore, and him? Well, he couldn't stand to see his family scrape and scrounge in the slums of Small Heath in order to survive any longer. No, not anymore. New copper sniffing about or not. No matter what Polly said, Tommy saw an opportunity with these guns. He wasn't about to turn it down. He just had to play it smart. As Maggie continued her reading, Tommy could feel himself slowly begin to drift out of consciousness and into a dreamless sleep.
#peaky blinders fanfiction#tommy shelby#shelbysister#alfie solomons#oc#peakyblinders#arthur shelby#john shelby#polly shelby#adashelby#gangster#1920
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12 Days of Tropemas Masterlist
My submissions for the MFBC server's 12 days of Tropemas event!
I'll Be Home For Christmas
2k, T, Merlin/Arthur, Modern Era, Coffee Shop AU, Covid-19 fic (for plot reasons), Light Angst, Reincarnation, Post-Canon, First Kiss
Merlin likes working in the coffee shop during December, with all the Christmas spirit, at yet he's never been one to believe in Christmas miracles. But maybe Arthur showing up is one, or maybe it's destiny, or perhaps it's just luck.
Auld Lang Syne
2k, T, Merlin/Arthur, Merlin&Arthur, Gen or Pre-Slash, Canon Era, Post-Magic Reveal, Misunderstandings, Hurt/Comfort
Arthur hasn't spoken to Merlin in two weeks, and Merlin doesn't know if Arthur ever will, again. If he'll ever be forgiven. But really, the only way to know what someone else feels is to ask, isn't it?
Cold December Night
4.3k, T, Merlin/Arthur, Modern Era, Office AU, Enemies-to-Lovers (ish), Office Christmas Party, Gifts, Mistletoe, Apologies
The only downside to working for Camelot Ltd., really, Merlin thinks, is Arthur. Merlin is great at holding grudges, and it's not like Arthur has tried very hard to apologise for being an ass, anyway. Only, Christmas approaches and Arthur does try, and Merlin's resolve crumbles rather quickly.
All I Want For Christmas Is You
2.2k, T, Merlin/Arthur, Minor Morgana/Gwen, Modern Era, Mutual Pining, Friends-to-Lovers, Christmas Markets, Love Confessions, First Kiss, Idiots in Love
In which Arthur makes assumptions, Merlin has two minor heart attacks, and Gwen and Morgana are happily engaged and unhappily watching the other two pine over each other. There's one Christmas market and two hotel beds (which quickly becomes rather unnecessary).
My Only Wish (This Year)
1.4k, T, Merlin/Arthur, Modern Era, Roommates, Bisexual Arthur, Biphobia (Uther's an ass, no surprise there), Arthur Needs A Hug, Caring Merlin
Arthur is once again frustrated and angry after a conversation with his father turns into talks of marriage and finding a good woman. Good thing Merlin's such a good flatmate who knows just how to cheer him up.
Santa Baby
2.2k, T, Merlin/Arthur, minor Morgana/Gwen, Modern Era, Soulmates, Uncle Arthur, Kid Mordred, Santas, First Meeting
Arthur loves taking Mordred to meet Santa, but this year's Santa is a little different from the usual, and Arthur might just get what he's wishing for.
Let It Snow!
2.9k, T, Merlin&Arthur, minor Arthur/Gwen, Canon Era, Magic Reveal, Light Angst
Arthur sees Merlin practice magic and has to reevaluate just how fair his kingdom really is.
Baby, It's Cold Outside
1.4k, Merlin/Arthur, Pre-Slash, Canon Era, Huddling for Warmth, Banter, Holding hands - kind of
After getting separated from the Knights in the cold North, Arthur and Merlin settle down for a night's sleep. Only, it's really rather freezing outside and Merlin's not wearing near enough clothes for the cold weather. Honestly, there really is only one solution. Arthur is just being practical; he's just making sure Merlin doesn't die, is all.
Winter Wonderland
4.8k, T, Merlin/Arthur, minor Gwen/Lancelot, minor Elena/Mithian, Modern Era, Modern AU, Snowed In, Snowball Fight, First Meeting, Movie Nights, Board Games, Mistletoe, First Kiss
Merlin didn't imagine spending his Christmas getaway in York stuck in a pub with his friends, his friend's brother's friends, and the owners of the pub, but here he is. He also didn't imagine enjoying it quite so much, nor did he imagine he'd find love on the highest point of Pennine Way, but what is the snowed-in trope if not a recipe for romance?
AKA: Merlin and the gang are the (not so) poor sods who ended up snowed in at a pub in North Yorkshire.
Light A Candle
1.1k, T, Merlin&Arthur, Canon Era, Canon AU, Arthur has Magic, Magic Reveal
The winter solstice always makes Arthur's magic a little more difficult to control, but maybe in this case it's not entirely a bad thing.
True As Christmas
1.8k, T, Merlin/Arthur, Modern Era, Fake Relationship, Getting Together, Friends-to-Lovers
Arthur accidentally calls Merlin his boyfriend, and really it's less awkward to go with it than to correct himself, right?
Silent Night
530, T, Merlin/Arthur, Canon Era, Canon AU, Established Relationship, Enemies-to-Lovers, Arthur Knows About Merlin's Magic, Prince Merlin, Prince Arthur
Arthur and Merlin are by their blood sworn enemies, but destiny has always paved a different path for them. And perhaps it is their time, to pave a different path for their people.
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Can you do a prompt where Draco accidentally farts infront of Harry for the first time
***Sorry for the long wait- I really liked this prompt and wanted to write it out properly. And this will probably be the last prompt I write for anybody for while (unless I REALLY like it). I have something planned and hopefully it’ll be ready by this weekend *crosses fingers* Hope you enjoy anon! 🤗
The Bunbuster Fart - Sounds like a Beefy One, except much more sudden and much much more powerful. Generally smells eggy or beefy. Leaves your asshole smarting. You really feel these babies.
“How about an after dinner game of Quidditch?”
“You’re on!”
Draco and Hermione exchanged an exasperated but fond look as they watched the Weasleys running out the door, with Ron pulling a laughing Harry along with him.
If someone told Draco a few years ago that he’d be at one of the Weasley’s Sunday Dinners as a welcomed guest and actually find himself enjoying the company of redheads, he would have laughed himself silly before hexing that poor sod for good measure.
But here he was.
And he wouldn’t want to be anywhere else but the Burrow at that moment.
“Well, let’s go after them, shall we?” Hermione sighed, as she stood up from her seat.
Draco nodded as he also made his way up, looking behind to see the Weasley matriarch putting away the dishes with some help from Fleur. “Would you like some help, Mrs. Weasley?”
Molly looked up, one of the empty gravy boats in hand, as she grinned and made a shooing gesture at them. “Thank you dear, but you can leave it to me and Fleur here.” Molly gave him a wink. “And it’s Molly to you, remember? Now you all have fun!”
Draco chuckled. “Alright. We’ll see you after the game, Molly.”
“There’ll be some dessert waiting for you all when you return!” She called out to them as the two left.
Draco followed Hermione as they headed to the field, seeing Ginny and Ron already in some sort of argument.
“You ALWAYS get Harry!” Ginny yelled at her brother, throwing her arms up in the air.
“Mens before hens, little sister!” Ron crowed, shielding Harry behind him as if afraid she would physically drag his best friend to her team.
“That doesn’t even make sense!” She argued. She opened her mouth to add something before catching a glimpse at Draco and Hermione in a conversation as they made their way towards them. She paused and a sly grin grew on her face.
“Fine- you can keep the used goods.” Ignoring Harry’s offended “Hey!”, Ginny quickly made her way to the approaching pair and grabbed both their hands, startling the two.
“I get both your better halves on my team then!” She called out.
Ron snorted. “Sure. Malfoy has never once won against Harry and Mione’s never played at all.”
Ginny just smirked at her brother, as she pulled them away and formed a huddle with her team.
“Ok, so today is kind of like the grand championship of all games. Me and Ron are at a dead tie and today is the day we find out who is superior.” Ginny explained to Draco and Hermione. George already knew the rivalry his two youngest siblings had when it came to their family matches.
“I don’t think me playing is a good idea.” Hermione bit her lip, looking her ‘team’ that consisted of Draco, George, her and captained by Ginny. The other team had Harry, Bill, George’s girlfriend, Angelina and was captained by Ron. The referees were Percy and Arthur.
Ginny gave a dark laugh. “No, today will be utterly brilliant.” They came together as Ginny told them of her plan.
“My little sister has gone absolutely bonkers…let do it.” George grinned widely, grabbing his broom.
Even Hermione was smiling.
Draco looked at his boyfriend’s ex with an shocked and impressed look. “And how are you not in Slytherin?”
Ginny lips curved upward. “And break the Weasley tradition? Would’ve given my brothers a heart attack.” She gave a laugh and winked at the wide-eyed look Draco gave her. “What? Harry’s not the only one who can talk a hat into doing what they want.”
(=^w^=)**************************
This had to be one of the most bizarre but downright most fun quidditch games Draco ever played in.
Harry and he were of course the seekers, with Ginny and Angelina as chasers, George and Bill as beaters, and Ron and Hermione as the keepers.
At first, the game went alright, with Ron’s team gaining a lead in the first half.
Which was of course, all according to Ginny’s plan- to give her brother a false sense of security.
And then the second half is where everything went mad.
Draco trailed after his boyfriend and whenever he got too close, he would give accidental brushes here and there, a lingering touch and smile that darkened with barely concealed want that made his beau pause and shiver, completely distracting him from searching for the snitch.
Ron wasn’t faring any better neither. Although he and his girlfriend were on other sides of the field as they protected their respective goals, Hermione would flash him flirty looks and overly praise him with compliments whenever he stopped a goal, distracting her boyfriend and making his face as red as his hair.
Hermione and Draco had asked if their method would have been considered cheating, but Ginny assured them that after the Weasley Halloween match of 91’ where it ended with Percy’s arm twisted like a pretzel and Fred somehow turned into a gnome and lost in their garden for 3 days, everything was fair game during the Weasley Quidditch Matches.
George had also done the same game plan to Angelina, but his girlfriend had eventually caught on what he was up to.
But unfortunately, Ginny had predicted for that to happen and helped George make offensive attacks instead towards Angelina and Bill (who Ginny was originally targeting).
Draco flew his broom higher, trying to get a good view of the whole field and also for one other personal reason.
As he hovered above and watched Ginny hitting the quaffle through the hoop, barely missing Ron’s head, he felt a burst hot air slowly hiss out of his bottom.
Pssssssstttttt….
Draco hoped his blush wasn’t showing as his indiscreetly tried to shift his broom, fanning the stench away.
In actuality, the blonde’s stomach started to act up a few minutes after their game began.
Draco had eaten a lot during dinner, almost the same amount as Ron, which was quite an impressive feat.
Not only was this the first time he has tasted the Weasley matriarch’s cooking (whom he quickly agreed made the best Sunday dinner he ever ate) but he had also wanted to make a good impression on his boyfriend’s ‘adopted’ family as well.
Luckily, Molly had pretty much taken to Draco almost immediately anyway since anyone who made Harry happy as he was now, was pretty much welcomed as part of her family. But seeing the blonde enjoy her food as much as he had was like the cherry on the top.
Draco bit his lip, as another fart let him, the embarrassing sound audible to his ears making him grimace.
He should have never had that second helping of pot roast, let alone a third helping. Or any extra helpings he had of whatever was on that table.
Bbbbrrrrttttt….
Draco huffed as he ignored his lower half and tried to focus back on the game.
To everyone’s surprise, Hermione actually made a decent keeper. When she wasn’t distracting Ron, she was able to guard her goalpost and prevent any quaffle from entering.
Who knew that underneath that bushy haired bookworm lied a decent keeper?
Pffffffttttt….
Draco bit his lip as more air expelled from his bumcheeks. Thankfully, they were out in the open and he was far away from the others so no one would know about the symphony of farts his arsehole was playing right now.
Draco suddenly shot up, a loud fart boomed out of him when he did so, when he finally spotted the snitch.
Ignoring his rumbling belly, he zoomed right towards the snitch just at the same time that Harry had also caught sight of it.
They flew side by side, a few feet apart, both exchanging grins before focusing their sole attention on capturing the snitch.
The blonde wasn’t even aware of all the farts that was shooting out of his bum at that moment (they were too quiet for Harry to hear anyway and the speed of which they flew blew away the smells his farts may have had and cause it to dissipate in the wind).
After a few more twists and turns, both boys finally reached out their hands as they made to caught the snitch.
The snitch entered his hand.
And it was over.
Ginny’s team won.
“I got it!” Draco yelled triumphantly, holding up the snitch proudly in his hand.
“HELL YESSSSSS!” Ginny’s scream echoed throughout the field, loud enough to scare the flock of passing birds away.
Draco could hear his boyfriend laughing but his thoughts were too focused on the fact that he finally won against Harry Potter.
He, Draco Malfoy, finally caught the snitch.
The boys flew their brooms towards the ground, to a patch of high grass that was a little away from everyone and hidden the pair a bit, but they were too tired from their earlier chase to fly anymore.
As soon as they landed, Harry grinned at Draco and gave the blonde a loud smack on the lips. “Congratulations, love.”
Draco’s eyes were sparkling as he held up the snitch to the other. “Finally beat you, Potter.”
Harry chuckled as he nodded his head. “Right you did. I’m proud of you, although I kinda feel bad for Ron- Ginny will never let him live this down.” He tilted his head to the right and they both watched Ginny and George, arms crossed as they danced in circles and crowed loudly to their victory.
The boyfriends snorted when they saw Hermione trying to console her defeated boyfriend- although she wasn’t doing a very good job as she herself was laughing too much.
Harry shook his head as he gave the other a soft smile and pulled his boyfriend to him for a big hug and another kiss.
Right then, Draco’s gut reminded him of his earlier gas problems and before he could do anything, Harry gave his middle a tight saueeze, making Draco let out a huge and very loud fart right then.
BRRRRTTTTTT!
They both froze at Draco’s fart.
Mortified, Draco tried to push the other away, unable to believe that he had just farted in front of his boyfriend.
He wanted to die.
And that fart just now wasn’t only one of the loudest and smelliest one yet, but it exited his arsehole with a burn- he had to swallow the whimper at the sting it left.
Not knowing what to do, Draco became confused when he suddenly heard a snort that was quickly followed by loud laughter as he was once again gathered up in his lover’s arms.
“I guess your bum wanted to congratulate you as well, love.” Harry giggled, holding the other close to him, wanting to make sure the blonde knew he didn’t mind at all so his boyfriend wouldn’t feel bad.
Draco blushed, but stopped trying to escape as he let himself be held. “Oh, shut up Harry. I ate too much earlier.” He grumbled, relieved that his boyfriend wasn’t grossed out by Draco breaking wind.
Harry guffawed. “I’ll say, never thought you could put away all that food- I was impressed. Made Molly very happy.” Harry paused before giving a loud sniff, making a face. “But maybe next time, you might want to skip the extra helping of pot roast, love. It really stinks right now.” The air around them had a foul stench which was strangely meaty.
“Shut up.” Draco’s face reddened even more. “Unfortunately, my flatulence doesn’t come off as roses, oh mighty savior.”
Harry snorted. “Flatulence. So posh, you prat. Just say fart like the rest of us.” He then grinned. “But who knew this lovely thing would let out such a manly ‘burp’.” He patted his boyfriends bum before giving it a teasing squeeze.
Although Draco’s face was still red, he was glad that his boyfriend wasn’t disgusted or turned off by his emission of gas.
As he was still riding off the high from his first quidditch win against his lover, when he felt his boyfriend give his buttocks another squeeze, the blonde mustered up all the courage he had and shoved his bum hard against the other’s hand and forced out a very noisy and quite wet sounding fart right onto his unsuspecting lover.
BRRRRRRAAAAAPPPPPPPPPPP!
Draco burst out laughing as Harry gasped. “And that was my bum’s way of also saying I won and you lost, Potter.”
Harry opened his mouth to retort back but he ended up coughing as the powerful stench of rotten meat filled the air just then.
Eyes sparkling with mirth, Draco giggled as he quickly dodged his lover’s hands as the other made to grab him and he ran as fast as he could back to the others.
Draco couldn’t wait to come back again for next week’s Weasley Sunday Dinners and hopefully have another after-dinner game of Quidditch.
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for your ask meme - cabin pressure because i'd love to see you apply those terms to them
ask about My Shows
blorbo (favorite character, character I think about the most)
i know my blog doesn't say it so much any more, but believe me anon, my brain is still in 24/7 carolyn knapp-shappey lockdown. i'm never gonna love a woman more than her and that's a fact
scrunkly (my “baby”, character that gives me cuteness aggression, character that is So Shaped)
i'm not gonna lie i do not understand all of the words in this sentence but my most darling adored beloved is arthur shappey <3
scrimblo bimblo (underrated/underappreciated fave)
i guess theresa?? i live in such a bubble now that i think i forget that she's not actually as highly rated and adored as i think she is
glup shitto (obscure fave, character that can appear in the background for 0.2 seconds and I won’t shut up about it for a week)
what about a character that doesn't even get mentioned once in canon! except a vague allusion to, i guess - of course i am talking of the vrcu and our beloved verity richardson
poor little meow meow (“problematic”/unpopular/controversial/otherwise pathetic fave)
i mean i want to say martin as the only one who really qualifies as pathetic but my unpopular opinion about him is that he's literally the most uninteresting character in cp and his patheticness is entirely self-made so you know what. my heart is actually saying douglas 'i'm a fifty-seven year old first officer with three ex-wives and i'm drinking sodding pineapple juice' richardson
horse plinko (character I would torment for fun, for whatever reason)
hercules shipwright :) yes i adore him, yes i want him to suffer. it's complicated
eeby deeby (character I would send to superhell)
gordon shappey >:(
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Merlin may be a pretty boy, but his collateral damage has guaranteed at least two body cave-ins from a fellow mage. Percival get first rights to what happens to Lamorak, though. But yes, hello, I came to bring the great news that I can finally give gifts to Lancelot out of jail! No more hallucinations for him!
CONGRATULATION ON LANCELOT!!! you finally pulled him omg? so good. Living only with Lancelot's hallucinations card for the holidays line is super fun but also so sad while being unable to read his normal lines. Arrested for F2P crimes. Anyway coNGRATULATION!
for Merlin you are correct. I mean if we tally Merlin's action led, at LEAST:
-A necromancy attack on KIDS and soldiers which was pretty tight in injuring a lot of people and could have got ways ways worse
-An attack on Dalmore that only got stopped by Gawain and Florence, while Gawain was closed into a cave by Merlin's minion most of the time, on the active purpose of continuing the war between three countries which would have triggered a lot of casualties
-Whenever or not Aglovale's actions were connected to Merlin considering Aglovale hints at it in SoD, meaning the whole war and disaster and calamity he almost brought to the world are thanks to Merlin
-Siegfried's torture and attack on people since Gunther lured them by attacking a village first
-Mordred and Arthur both almost died last event
-Not to mention the likely horrors linked to Lamorak's necromancy
the crimes are starting to add up for the poor little meow meow
Anyway if Aglovale mentioning that indeed it seems likely someone else planted the researches he ended up using to him, and that someone is Merlin, Percival is starting to really get a score of "getting fucked up by Merlin". His two brothers??? his mentor??? His friends's kids? The peace for his nation (especially since Percival is extremely peace driven as a future king, compared to Aglovale who would have carried on a war if everything was set for it)??? next we know Merlin will finally attack Danchou and that will be personal.
but yeah anyway for now as long as Lamorak is working with Merlin this is going to be the big Percival fuck up of the day and i really need to see how this will turn out.
and if something happens to Lamorak because of his affiliation with Merlin, or if Lamorak become the enemy of the state, i hope Percival (and even Aglovale) get to involve themselves into the situation. Give me the brothers content granblue i'm no longer asking i've been begging for years now. before we even knew you had plans for Lamorak. Please.
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