#ready for something new and bright and beautiful under arthur's care

[holy-loki]

the emerald pin in velvet goldmine (1998) 

[novaiya]

Diamonds and Rust - Arthur x Reader (NSFW)

Summary: It’s been six years since you left it all behind; the Van Der Linde gang, the outlaw life and Arthur Morgan. Since then you’ve gone straight, becoming a rancher and a wife. What will happen to all of it when Arthur comes bursting back into your life, bringing with him all the feelings and desires the two of you once shared?

Words: 3,274

Warnings: smut, female reader, pregnancy.

A/N: I’m very, very proud of this fic and I really hope you guys like it as much as I do. I wrote the entire thing in basically one sitting (blame it on excitement and inspiration). The idea came to me after listening to Joan Baez’s song Diamonds and Rust (and that is of course where the title comes from). Give it a listen, it’s a beautiful song! If you prefer, you can read it on AO3 here.

Well, I'll be damned, here comes your ghost again - Diamonds and Rust

You knew he was around as soon as you heard about a big group of people, men, women and children, passing on wagons through your town. The shopkeeper in the general store said that the group looked like bad news, the look with which they eyed everything and everyone belonging only to people who were running from something. On another day, you were at the train station, posting a letter, when you heard one of the postal workers say the name “Tacitus Kilgore” while rummaging through a bin. That sealed the deal for you, and you knew it wouldn’t be long before he found you.

For the next few days you couldn't do anything but wait, expecting him to barge back into your life at any moment. Your husband noticed your absent-mindness, and tried to inquire, but you waved him away, blaming your mood on overworking.

Your husband didn’t know your past. You told him that you ran away from home when a group of outlaws attacked your house, killing your parents and stealing anything worth selling. That wasn’t entirely a lie, but it wasn’t the truth either. What you omitted to mention was that later when you had nowhere to go, another group of outlaws found you, took you in and became your new family. You spent the next few years with them, moving from place to place, robbing, killing, and stealing. It was there that you fell in love for the first time.

Shortly after you joined the gang, you and Arthur became a great team, and later on, a strong couple. As the time went on though, you realized that you couldn’t live on the run forever; you wanted a family, a stable life, a house with a kitchen and a bath. You shared your feelings with Arthur, and he promised you that everything would change, that the two of you would run away, to Mexico, or maybe California, and start a new life. The new life was always at the end of “one last score,” which never seemed to come.

After yet another similar conversation, you realized that if you didn’t leave at that moment, you never would. The moonlight casted its light on Arthur’s sleeping face as you looked at him one last time, burning the image of him into your memory. Without turning back, you mounted your horse and left.

Although seeming asleep, Arthur was awake the entire time. He felt you leave the cot, stand next to it for a few minutes and then leave. He heard the hoofbeats in the quiet night, becoming softer and softer until they completely disappeared. He wanted to go after you, bring you back, but he realized it would be selfish. What you wanted, what you deserved, he couldn’t give.

.

It's been a week since you heard the name “Tacitus Kilgore” in the post office,   and Arthur still hasn't shown. You let yourself relax, thinking that maybe it wasn’t him in the first place, or maybe he has forgotten about you. It’s been six years after all.

Few days later, your husband had to go take care of his mother couple of towns over. He asked if you wanted to go with him, but you declined; someone had to stay and take care of the ranch, protect it from cattle rustlers and wild animals.

You helped him load up the wagon, making sure to pack extra clothes and food for the trip. You kissed him, the kiss being longer than what was necessary for a trip that would probably take only three days at most.

The wagon disappeared in the tall trees as you stood at the entrance of your ranch, waving your hand until there was no one to wave to. The cold, fresh morning air filled your lungs as you took a big gulp of it. You turned on your heels, heading back inside and preparing for a day of work.

Your day was mostly spent tending to the cattle and cleaning up. When the sun started to set, painting the sky a mix of purple and red, you went into the main house and prepared dinner. You pushed the food around on the plate. The suffocating emptiness of the house made you once again think about expanding your family. The time was perfect; the ranch was making money and the house was the right size with two extra rooms sitting unoccupied and being used for storage. But, it seemed that it wasn’t for you to decide; you and your husband have been trying for months now, yet nothing was happening.

Trying to muffle the thoughts in your head, you got up from the table and took your plate to the sink, leaving it there to be cleaned tomorrow.

.

The cotton nightgown felt cool on your skin as you changed into it. The oil lamp on your bedside table was just bright enough to illuminate the clock on the wall, indicating that it was far past your bedtime, and if you wanted to get anything done tomorrow, you should go to bed right away. You sighted, getting ready to go under the covers when you heard a knock on the front door, as sudden as thunder on a sunny day. You froze, your body trying to decide whether to fight or flee. You carefully left your bedroom, mentally cursing when the floorboard creaked under your feet as you inched closer to the front door. Another knock came. Your eyes flew to the shotgun by the door. Your breath came out shaky as you were preparing to grab it, open the door and shoot straight through whoever it was.

And then you heard it, his voice saying your name. You felt like you were drenched in cold water, six years worth of bottled up emotions and feelings flooding straight through you. Without thinking, you opened the door, meeting face to face with his blue eyes.

"Arthur."

.

The only thing illuminating the living room and the two of you was the fire from the fireplace. You could feel the heat from it kissing your bare arms. You went into the kitchen, bringing back one shot glass and a bottle of whiskey. You poured a glass for Arthur, placed the bottle on the table, and sat down on the couch next to him.

He downed it in one go before silence fell over, nothing but the occasional sound of wind howling outside.

"Beautiful ranch you got."

"Thank you," you said, keeping your answer short and not looking at him.

You could feel the weight of his stare on you; it’s been six years since he last saw you. You've changed so much, and at the same time, haven't changed at all. You still kept your hair the same length, still had the same longing gaze in your eyes, yearning for more in life. He saw that you still had a scar on your hand, the one you got when an O'Driscoll pierced it with his knife. Arthur said it would fade with time when he was bandaging it. Looking at it now, he realized that things don’t fade away so easily.

His eyes lingered on your hand for a moment, noticing a ring on your finger, the gold band shining brightly in the dimly lit room, taunting him.

"So, you got married?" he said, his voice laced with venom as he spoke the last word.

"I have," you replied, casting your eyes down to the golden band. "Couldn't wait for you forever." Your words pierced right through him, leaving yet another wound he would need to tend to later. For the past six years, he held a naive, wishful hope that when the time would come, you’d be there, waiting for him. The idea, as absurd and foolish as it was, kept him hopeful for the past six years.

"What's his name?"

"Don't," you said, turning around to Arthur for the first time since you sat down. "Don't do this."

The two of you fell silent once again, and you used that moment to look over Arthur. You could see the traces of the person you loved six years ago; he still had the same scars scattered across his face. His eyes, although sadder now, still had the same color to them. His arms, the ones that held you on many nights, still had the same muscular shape.

"I'm sorry," he finally said, catching your eyes. "It was my fault the things ended up the way they did."

You didn’t say anything, casting your eyes downwards, so he continued.

“I was awake, you know, the night you left.”

You gulped down, the memories of your departure from the camp filling your mind.

“I should’ve never let you go.”

"I should’ve never left." The words left your mouth before you could process them. You have promised yourself to never vocalize these thoughts, the thoughts that a part of you that never left him, that have been longing for him for the past six years, felt.

The atmosphere in the air shifted. You could feel the change in Arthur's eyes and his demeanor. He reached out and took your hands in his, running his thumb over your knuckles and your golden band. His other hand reached up to you, cradling your head and bringing the two of you closer. You could feel his breath on your lips, smelling of the whiskey you poured him a few minutes ago. Your mind was on fire. For a moment, you felt that you were six years in the past, sitting on a bed in a crummy hotel room in some beatdown town. The law was on your tail, but you didn't care. Nothing mattered when you were with Arthur.

He pressed his lips against yours and in an instant, you forgot where you were. Your hands moved on their own, reaching and waving your fingers into his hair, deepening the kiss. He groaned against your mouth, his hand leaving yours and moving up the curve of your body, over your hips and your waist, stopping around your chest. You felt him palm you over your chemise, and for a second, you felt your mind clear. The guilt came in flooding. You felt his tongue lick over your bottom lip and you winced, breaking the kiss and trying to get away from him, pushing yourself deeper into the couch.

"I can't do this," you said, more to yourself than to Arthur.

You felt his hand on your knee, hot against the cool skin. You wanted to move, wanted to slap his hand away, but you didn't. His hand inched higher up your leg, reaching the end of your chemise.

Arthur looked at you, his hand still on your thigh. "You tell me to stop and I will. I will leave and never bother you again."

You hesitated for a moment, battling with yourself till you finally said, “Stay.”

.

He covered your body with his, pinning you against the couch. His lips moved against yours in a dance that the two of you knew well, having rehearsed it for years and years before. One of his hands was back on your thigh, massaging the skin as he moved dangerously close to your heat. You felt his fingers run over your clothed slit, pressing against your clit and making you push your hips towards him.

His lips left your mouth, moving to your neck, kissing down your throat and to the crook of your neck. You could feel yourself getting wet as he kept kissing you all over, his fingers drawing lazy circles over your clothed clit. He removed himself from you and pulled off his suspenders. You sat up, your fingers reaching out and working on the buttons of his shirt before throwing it on the floor. You ran your hand up his body, through his chest hair and stopping over his heart. You could feel it beat wildly against his rib cage.

You felt hazy as he kissed you once again. In a minute, your chemise was on the floor, joining his shirt in a pile and leaving your top half naked to him. He laid you back down on the couch, sitting on his hinges between your spread legs. He made sure to burn this moment in his memory, the image of you spread under him for what was probably the last time.

He pulled your drawers down, revealing you completely to himself. You felt like you should cover yourself, not let a man that wasn't your husband see you like this, but this wasn't just another man, it was Arthur. Being like this with him felt natural.

He paved his way down your stomach with kisses, finally reaching your glistering cunt. The first touch of his tongue against your slit made you moan, and you instinctively reached out with your hand, waving your fingers into Arthur's hair. He kept going, lapping at you and pushing all the buttons he knew would have you coming apart in minutes. You threw your head back, moaning his name when you feel him push a finger in you, his tongue turning its attention to your clit. You could feel your release approaching when he added a second finger, picking up the pace. The movements of his fingers were deliberate, working in tandem with his tongue. You started to move your hips in time with his fingers, your body giving in to your carnal desires.

Your toes curled and your whole body shuddered as you came. Arthur kept going, heightening your pleasures until it all became too much and he retreated. The sight of his lips, wet with your juices, made a fire ignite in your belly once again. You pulled him down, crashing your lips against his, moaning at the taste of you.

He was grinding his hips against you, the bulge in his pants hard and heavy. You broke the kiss, reaching down with shaking hands towards his pants, popping the button open and taking out his cock. He moaned your name, closing his eyes as you wrapped your fingers around him. You ran your hand up and down, relishing in the sound of his debauched voice moaning your name. After a while, he took your hand away from his length and kissed over your knuckles. Letting it go, he pulled down his pants, the last article of clothing joining the others on the floor.

He sat in his naked glory between your legs. He was just as you remembered him; big, strong and muscular. The air around him was filled with virility. Your primal urges filled your mind as you wanted nothing but to be filled by him. He sensed your longing, seeing it in your eyes, and smiled.

His lips found yours once again, kissing you so much that you couldn't think about anothing but him. You felt the tip at him at your entrance, slowly pushing in. Your hands found his biceps, holding on to him as he pushed deeper, stretching you around his shaft. He stilled when he was all the way in, trying to compose himself. For a moment, all that could be heard where the sounds of your combined breaths, haggard in the quiet living room. The light from the fireplace illuminated your naked bodies.

Finally, he moved, pulling halfway out of you before slamming back in. You clung to each other, your bodies molding into one. Your legs wrapped around his waist, letting him deeper into you as your hands clawed at his back, leaving red marks behind. The feeling of him inside you was intoxicating; he was made for you, hitting all the right spots, the sheer girth and length of him filling you perfectly. His lips were on your neck as he thrusted in and out of you, taking in your scent and the taste of your skin under his lips.

Arthur couldn't get enough of you; his eyes raked over every part of your body, taking it all in. You could feel his hands everywhere, holding on to your hips, massaging your sides, cupping your breasts. He wanted to feel every part of you. His touch was inebriating, heightening your pleasure to an unimaginable level.

You could feel yourself nearing the edge, and so did Arthur. His movements became sloppier and out of rhythm, his desire for peak overwhelming.

He moaned your name, bringing your attention to him.

"I'm gonna cum," he said breathlessly, "where-"

You didn't let him finish, cutting in and saying, "Cum in me", not thinking about the repercussions of your words, your mind high on desire.

He dropped to his elbows, crashing his lips against yours as his movements became slower but rougher. You moved your hips meeting every one of his thrusts. The feeling of your tongue against his, your hands on his back and your warmness tightening against his shaft all became too much, and he came with a moan of your name, spilling his seed inside of you. The feeling of him coating your walls drove you wild, and you came a moment later, your legs shaking.

The weight of Arthur over you felt like a warm blanket, keeping you safe and shielded from the world outside. You could feel his staggering breath on your neck as he tried to bring his breathing down. You held each other like that for a few minutes, not moving. Two sweaty bodies, entangled in each other.

At some point in the night, the two of you moved to the bedroom, soiling the bed that you and your husband shared with your combined moans and desires.

You spent the rest night in Arthur’s arms. He held you tight against him as he told you about his travels and the state of the gang. You told him about the ranch, and how fulfilled you felt by the work. Both of you tried to avoid the subject of marital status.

You fell asleep to the beat of Arthur’s heart, your head on his chest, his in your hair.

In the morning, the two of you had breakfast, and he stayed till the evening, helping you with some of the chores around the ranch, playing family that the two of you never had a chance to become.

You watched him drive away on his horse, following the speck of him with your eyes all the way over the plain till it completely disappeared. You stood by the entrance of your ranch for a few more minutes. Out in the distance the chickens chirped. You still had to milk the cows and go to the general store. Breathing out, you looked up into the sky before turning back towards your house and your life.

.

Few months later.

You stood at the top of a hill, overlooking your ranch with your husband next to you. Cold wind blew through your hair. Winter was coming. You had to start making preparation for the colder months; make sure the cattle were healthy, create a water plan, add feeders and forage among other things.

Another rush of cold air made you shiver and pull your shawl tightly over your shoulders. Your husband's hand found yours, interlocking your fingers and making you look at him. He smiled at you. his eyes full of love and excitement, before turning back towards the ranch. You held your gaze on him for a moment longer, studying his features, before too turning towards the pasture, one of your hands in his, the other on your growing belly.

[sorry-i-ship-drarry]

Palace Dè Elite

Day 12- Diagon alley @hpdestress

Harry groans as his head hit the the pillar by the bed at the Weasley's and finally rakes his hand under the bed to find his glasses. 

“ Every time “ He heard a small laugh. It was in the next second when he found the glasses and put it on that he turned and saw Ron had came into his room. 

“ The position of this pillar is totally inaccurate” Harry grumbled. He next wore his slippers and slipped on a jumper and decided to go downstairs after Ron himself while discussing the Christmas festivities left to be done and the plan of the day. 

“ Harry “ Molly squealed and immediately wrapped her arms around him. 

Harry forcefully chuckled, hugging her. 

“ You should’ve told us sooner that you’d be coming for Christmas” Molly grinned after having taken her arms back to herself. 

Harry tried fixing his atrocious hair as he settled at the table “ I didn’t know I was going to- someone dragged me “ He replied looking at Ron “ I’m sorry for last minute trouble” 

“ Trouble, nonsense ” He heard. Arthur had came into the room with his bag of work and ready to leave. Harry immediately got up and hugged Arthur as the family tradition went “How are you, Mr. Weasley?” 

“ As bright as the star” Arthur laughed. Harry never really got his jokes but he laughed at them nonetheless. 

“ Mum, We still need decoration to do outside, it’d be fine if Harry and I do it ?” Ron asked chewing down his apple pie. 

“ Of course dear, of course” Molly grinned.

And that’s how Harry’s rest of day was occupied and later that evening when Hermione too came there, the evening became wilder than it originally had been. Apparently the Weasley’s took a great fun in doing karaokes and singing at the top of their lungs, literally any of them. Harry laughed all along video taping them even as they sang and danced, doing back vocals in between too. It had been so fun yet tiring all at the same time that by the time it was 10 in the night everyone was tired of screaming and had sore throats so they just hummed along. Harry was smiling at the sight of the family, the jokes that were being shared in the corner between Bill and Fleur, Hermione and Ron talking about something which Harry could’ve joined but some days it was nice just watching them from afar and smiling at them and Arthur and Molly dancing to Molly’s favorite song. It was a sight to behold, It was all so nice and so overwhelming and yet his heart clenched in his chest every beating second when he thought that he could've been doing all of this with a boy he loved but couldn’t spend the Christmas with for several reasons. Harry would do anything right now to go to where he was, wrap him in his own arms and dance the same way Arthur and Molly were dancing. He could have it all but he’s here and not with him. Only if he could go to him. 

He felt the couch sunk under and looked over his shoulder to see Ginny joined him on the couch with a muffin in her hand. 

“ Want ?” she asked. Harry refused, smiling. 

They remained in silence watching them for so long, enjoying the incandescent happiness blooming in front of their eyes and the beauty of the relationships in its own until Harry leaned back and turned to face Ginny. 

“ Can I ask you something ?” Harry asked. 

Ginny gave him a smile “ Anything” 

“ If there was someone you could spend all your Christmases with, your new years, all the other holidays with who would it be and it cannot be family ?” 

Ginny scoffed, smiling “It’s obvious isn’t it, with someone I love” 

Harry nodded then turned momentarily to front “ And what if that someone you love is the one you’re not supposed to love ?” 

He heard Ginny exhale a sharp breath and the seat just next to him sinking further and he turned again to Ginny. 

“ Then I wouldn’t care about the world or anyone else. I would tell myself that I love them and the rest of the world doesn’t have to” 

Harry smiled, then his expressions turned into amusement “ You’ve always been the wise one” 

Ginny let out a soft chuckle then as the silence dragged on again, she put her hand over Harry’s to get his attention “ Go. You love him and that’s what matters. Spend your christmas with him, I’m sure everyone else would understand” 

Harry could’ve lied, could’ve pretended that Ginny’s word meant nothing but he knew there was no point in denying. He knew even if he tried, she’d see right through him, this was always something he liked about Ginny. The two had been through so much together and everyone thought they were meant to be, even Harry and Ginny themselves but now, he knows they weren’t meant to be and even if they were, Harry’s meant to be was someone else. He knew Ginny still hoped that they would get back together but he knew her flicker of hope was dying like a candle reaching its end until now when the wind could not bear so much and blew the candle out immediately, leaving just wax behind. 

“ You know who he is ?” Harry found himself asking 

“ I knew it before you even knew yourself” Ginny smirked. 

Harry chuckled then as it died he asked again “ How did you know ?” 

“Lets just say I’m wise” Ginny smiled. He looked at her for a moment longer than a few thinking of what they could’ve been but couldn’t be and the reason was back at Diagon alley and somehow he wouldn’t change it for the world. 

“ Seriously go, stop thinking about it too much. He’s more perfect for you than anyone could ever be, in all of the lives- Go before it’s too late. Ron would understand and I’ll handle” Ginny said, egging him on. 

Harry still waited until Ginny gave him a nod of affirmation which meant more to him than her encouragements all combined and immediately ran upto the room, packed his bag and ran outside through the back door and disapparating after having a last look of Ginny by the window giving him a nod, again. 

Within minutes Harry was knocking the poorly structured door of Palace Dè Elite. There was shuffling on the other side and some incoherent phrases while Harry waited this side and finally it came to a halt when he opened the door. 

“ Ha- Harry” He gasped in surprise. 

“ I want to spend it with you, this christmas, this eve, this new year, this holiday before we go back to school and pretend we hate each other, I want it just one time. I want to hold you and decorate our own christmas tree together even if it’s a shitty one, I want it and I want it with you wherever you are” Harry shrugged smiling as if he was a hopeless man in love dropping his bags to the ground. 

The other man awe-d and pulled Harry in a hug “ I love you” 

“ I love you too, Draco ” Harry replied in his neck, his arms holding him tight in his embrace. 

“ What about the Weasleys?” Draco asked after breaking away. 

Harry thought for a moment then remembered Ginny by the window “They’ll be alright. I just want to be you right now” 

Draco smiled and hugged him once again dragging him inside with him “ Come on you sap, lets have our own shitty version of Christmas” 

Day 11- Lover’s be damned || Day 13- Trail to one day

HP DE-STRESS DECEMBER REQUEST OPEN 

MASTERLIST

[justmesadgirl]

I Wish I Were Heather - Christmas At The Burrow (part 4)

Pairing: George Weasley x reader 

Warnings: angst, fluff

Words: 3k

Summary: It is finally Christmas and you aren’t sure what to do or feel after George’s confession.

a/n:  English isn’t my first laungage so sorry for all the mistakes!

requests are open!

part one, part two, part three

The next morning you woke up before the girls did, you barely slept for couple of hours that night because last night's conversation with George was playing over and over in your head and because of the slight pain in the back of your head, but mostly just George. He made you so angry, how can he tell you he loves you when he is with someone else. You shake your head angrily as you get up from the mattress on the floor. Looking over to make sure that Hermione and Ginny are still fast asleep. The smell of Molly’s cooking was lingering in the air as you get ready for the day. Looking at the clock to see that it was only 8 in the morning, all the boys in the house would be sleeping for at least couple more hours.

Quietly making your way downstairs, not wanting to wake anyone up. You smile when you see the Christmas tree in the living room. Underneath the tree were a lot of presents, even if the three oldest brothers weren’t home.

“Good morning dear.” You hear Molly sing to you from the kitchen, when you turn to look at her you see her cooking with a bright smile on her face.

“Good Morning Molly.” You smile as you make your way to her. “Can I help with anything?" 

“No need love I have everything handled here. Why are you up so early?” She turns to look at you this time with a more worried look. “How are you feeling? Are you in any pain anymore?” It felt nice to be cared for, how you wished your own parents were more like her and Arthur.

“I’m feeling okay, no pain so no need to worry.” You let her know as you look around the kitchen. “Couldn’t sleep any longer.” you continue after a while, not wanting to tell her that her son's words were stuck in her mind. “Are you sure you don’t need any help?” You ask again. You wanted to help in any way you could because she had opened her home to you.

“Good to hear that you feel better love and yes I’m sure that I don’t need any help. I still have time till the others will wake up. You know the boys they love to sleep in when they have the change." She laughs at her own words as she turns back to the food that she is preparing.

“Oh okay, well if you are sure that you don’t need my help I could go on a walk to clear my mind.” You tell her, not wanting to bother her when she was doing her thing.

“I’m here if you want to talk about anything.” She gives you a loving smile over her shoulder and you nod your head to her. “Don’t go far, I will call for you when others get up so we can have breakfast and open presents together.” You give her one last thankful smile as you put on your shoes and a jacket before walking out of the door into the cold winter air. You pause for a second to take in the beautiful snowy morning. The sun was rising and the ground was white and it was snowing lightly. Pulling your beanie on your head before you start walking, not sure where you are headed.

You were so mad at George that you were considering just leaving the Burrow, packing your bags and going back to Hogwarts early but how could you do that to Molly and the others. They all had been so nice and welcoming, showing you that they really did care for you and wanted you to be there. Fred and Ginny would be mad at you if you just left, so you decided to stay.

Letting out a groan as you think about George again, that boy seems to live inside your head at this point. All you ever wanted to hear George tell you he was in love with you but never had you imagined it to be this way, he was with Heather and you weren’t about to be the reason why she would get hurt. George needed to make up his mind and maybe he didn’t even mean it, maybe he just said it because you got hurt and he felt bad, that must be it. George Weasley wasn’t in love with you and he never would be. George was with Heather and they were happy, he didn’t mean it like you thought he meant it. He loved you like he loved Ginny, like you were his sister.

You were so in your head that you didn’t realise where your legs had led you to. You are standing in front of a big tree which happened to be the same tree that had George’s and Fred’s treehouse in it. Your eyes wander up to the treehouse, the same one that you and George usually hid in so you could have some alone time. A small smile makes its way to your lips, all the happy memories this place holds warms your heart. You climb up the stairs into the treehouse. You step into it and look around it, it had been only months since you last been in there but it still felt like it had been years.

It was full of George’s and Fred's products, books and quidditch things. You find yourself smiling as you see a small picture frame, it’s a picture of you and the twins laughing like crazy people. You remember that day well, it was your first time visiting the Burrow. Summer was about to end and George and Fred begged you to visit before school started and your parents let you. You had so much fun with the boys and that had to be one of the best weeks of your life.

“Stay still for a moment! I want a picture of you all!” Molly tried her best to make you three stop laughing, Arthur was holding the camera up ready to take the picture when you all were ready.

“It wasn’t even that funny!” You laugh at George, he had made a stupid joke which was so bad that made you all laugh.

“And still you are laughing at it!” George tried to defend his joke.

“Not at the joke we are laughing at you George!” Fred’s words only make you all laugh even harder.

“Just take the picture Arthur, they will never stop laughing!” Molly groans and Arthur does as his wife asks him.

“y/n! Come inside everyone is awake!” Molly’s sweet voice brings you out of your thoughts. It must have been over an hour since you went on your walk, but you were so lost in your own thoughts that you hadn’t realised how much time had passed. You quickly make your way back to the house, as you walk inside the warmth hits you and that’s when you realise how cold you were, your fingers felt like they might fall off. You take off your shoes and jacket before making your way to the kitchen. It smelled even better than it had before your walk. Almost everyone was sitting at the table beside you and the twins so that left three seats open, two next to each other and one between Ginny and Ron.

“Boys come on now everyone is waiting for you!” Molly yells up the stairs as you sit down next to Ginny and Ron, both of them looking at you weirdly because usually you sat next to George.

“Coming Mum! George lost something!” Fred yells as he runs down the stairs as he pulls his sweater over his head.

Fred stops when he walks into the kitchen looking around the table and then at you, he smiles and gives you a knowing look as he sits down on one of the free chairs. Then you hear George run down after his twinand he does the same, when he makes it into the kitchen he looks at the empty chair next to his twin brother and then at you, but you don’t look at him you just stare at the empty plate in front of you.

“Morning everyone.” George mumbles as he sits down, you can feel his eyes burning into you, nevertheless you don’t look back at him.

“Go on the dig in before it gets any colder.” Molly speaks up and everyone starts piling the food on their plates. Ginny and Fred excitedly talked about the huge amount of gifts under the Christmas tree. You try your best to finish your plate, but George’s eyes on you made you nervous, uncomfortable and maybe a little sick, suddenly you weren’t hungry anymore.

“Are you eating that?” Ron suddenly asks you, Hermione hits him like always when he said something stupid. “What!? If she isn’t I wouldn’t mind, so are you?” Ron turns back to you and you have to giggle at them. One day they would realise that they liked each other and end up together; they already acted like a married couple.

“Go ahead Ron you can have it.” You smile at him as he empties your plate of food onto his own. “You are suck a pig, Ron.” Hermione mumbles from next to him. After everyone is finished eating you make your way to the living room. You sit down on the couch next to Hermione and Harry. Molly starts sharing the gifts, she gives you couple packages and you thank her. You open the soft on first, already excited about it. You pull out a beautiful blue sweater with your name's first letter on it with yellow.

“Wow Molly this is gorgeous.” You tell her happily, you could feel tears burning your eyes. Molly’s gift made you feel so happy and you appreciated that she had found the time to make you a sweater.

“I heard from a little bird that you love my sweaters so I had to make one for you.” She smiles at you warmly. In the other packages were a new muggle book you told Hermione about, beautiful hand made earrings from Ginny, a box of chocolate from Ron and Harry and puking pastilles from Fred and George. You were so happy with all the gifts you received but it made you happier to look at how all of them reacted to your gifts to them. You got Molly a muggle cooking book, Arthur a rubber duck, Ginny a muggle polaroid camera, Hermione fancy quill sett, a box of chocolate frogs for Ron, Harry a quidditch book and the twins you gave a couple of things from the Zonko’s joke shop that they had wanted.

“Thank you so much y/n! George, can you please take a picture of us?” Ginny hugs you and then turns to her older brother giving him the new camera. You give the best smile you can as George takes a picture of you two.

“Can we talk?” George asks you as he gives the camera back to his sister. “Please?” George continues as he sees the look on your face.

“mm, okay, sure.” You reply unsurely. You get up and walk after him up the stairs so you two could talk in private. He opens the door to his bedroom and lets you in before closing the door after you two. You don’t know what to do so you awkwardly just stand in the middle of the room looking at his shoes, not wanting to see the look on his face.

“I got you this.” George finally speaks up, his voice makes you look at his beautiful face. He gives you a small box, it looks like a jewelry box.

“But you already gave me a gift?” You were confused about the new gift.

“That gift was from both of us but this is just from me.” He tells you anxiously looking at the gift in your hand. “Open it.” You look up at him quickly before you open the box, a small gasp falls from your lips when you see what's inside. “Do you like it?” George whispers due to the silence that falls upon you.

“I-It’s beautiful Georgie.” You whisper back to him, inside the box was the most beautiful neckless you have ever seen. It was shaped like a heart and it had beautiful small details all over it.

“Let me put it on.” George walks closer to you and takes the necklace out of the box, you turn around and lift your hair so he has better access to your neck. Shiver runs through your body when his fingers touch your skin. You take the beautiful heart in your hand and look at it. “It opens.” George tells you as he wraps his hands around you so he can take the heart in his hands, placing his chin on your shoulder. George opens the locket and there are two moving pictures of you two.

“Wow, this is amazing.” You tell him. Feeling him so close to you made you feel hot all of the sudden.

“Look.” He says and taps the top of the heart and the pictures change. “I've been working on this for the past week.” He tells you as the pictures change. It was amazing what magic could do. You turned around so you were facing him, not expecting to be so close to him.

“This is the most beautiful and meaningful thing anyone has ever given me, thank you so much Georgie.” You whisper to him feeling a tear run down your cheek. You pull him into a tight hug. It takes a second for him to hug you back, but when he does he places a soft kiss on your forehead too.

“You are the most beautiful and meaningful thing in my life y/n, I really meant it yesterday when I told you that I love you because I love you y/n.” He pulls away from you so he can look at your face, but his strong arms still wrapped around you. “I broke up with Heather after that night at the party, but you ran away from me yesterday so I couldn’t tell you that.” You were so shocked by his words, did George Wraskey actually love you?

“W-what?” Was the only thing you got out of your mouth.

“It’s okay if you don’t love me back, it really is but I needed to tell you. I have loved you since we met but I thought that you could never love me. Then Heather all of the sudden was interested in me so I went for it. It was a mistake because then you pulled away from me, it was so hard not to have you around anymore. Then you asked me to cuddle you and I realized that I had made a mistake, maybe there was a change that you felt the same way as I did. ” He takes a deep breath in before continuing, “Maybe there was a change that you loved me back, but it’s totally okay if you don’t. I’m happy to just be your best friend, anything to just have you in my life.” He was rambling on and all you could do was pull him into a kiss.

You had kissed boys before but you had never experienced anything like this kiss, it was just like out of a dream, maybe even better. The whole world around you disappeared and it was just you and him. The kiss ended way too soon for you as you two pulled away for air.

“Wow.” George breathes out. “Why haven’t you shut me up like that before.” Of course, he had to joke about the kiss.

“I love you Georgie.” You giggle at him.

“Say it again, please?” He asks you with a love sick look on his face.

“I love you, Georgie.”

“Does this mean you will finally be mine?”

“I don’t know, what do you think?” You ask him, a smirk forms on his lips. He kisses you again, not getting enough of the feeling of your lips on his.

“y/n y/l/n will you be my girlfriend, my future fiance, the future Mrs. Weasley, the future mother of my children and the future caretaker of mine.” George has this fake serious face on before he starts laughing, tint of blush spreads on his cheeks.

“I would love to George.” You laugh with him as he picks you up and spins your around a couple of times before placing you on the floor again.

“Merlin I love you.” He says before pulling you into another passionate kiss. It was meant to be, you and George Weasley were meant to be together.

“Bloody hell finally! Took long enough!” Fred’s words make you two pull away from each other, deep red blush spreading on both of your cheeks.

“Way to ruin the moment brother.” George groans out as he pulls you back into a hug.

“Next time put a sock on the handle or something, so I know not to come in! Lucky me that I didn’t come 10 minutes later really don’t wanna see you two making babies!” Fred lets you know, his words make you bury your face into George's neck. “Use protection, I’m too young to be an uncle!” He yells out before closing the door after himself.

“To be honest I wouldn’t mind doing that activity with you.” George winks at you.

“George!” You yell out before slapping his arm playfully.

“What!? I was just joking, unless?”

“Merlin why did I have to fall in love with you.” You playfully groan before pulling him into another kiss. “I’m sure they won’t miss us for the next 20 minutes so make it quick Weasley.” you whisper to his ear.

“Thank Merlin that you did.” George replies before picking you up and throwing you onto his bed.

A/N: Do you guys want more maybe a fifth fluffy part? Let me know what you think and if you want to be tagged! It means a lot to me when you guys leave  comments of what you think!!!

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[harrysweasleys]

save a life // d.m

Summary: You know what I always thought would be so cute if the reader is a Weasley and dating Draco in secret and he gives her an amulet and if the person wearing it gets hurt instead of dying it turns into a sleeping spell and during the Battle of Hogwarts she saves Fred and ends up on the floor instead and Draco rushes over and just loses it and then he sees that you're still wearing necklace and kisses you and it's angsty but with a happy ending sorry I'm a sucker things like these

Warnings: violence, language, blood

Word Count: 5.1k

A/N: so i changed up the request a tad, sorry about that, but nonetheless it’s pretty much what the request wanted! my requests are still open but i’ve got a long list to get through so sorry for the wait. xxx (gif not mine)

-

“Draco, I can’t accept this, it’s far too expensive,” Y/N’s mouth was agape as she stared down at the necklace in the little black velvet box. The charm on the end, which Y/N immediately recognized as a Protective Amulet — which they had studied in DADA — was glistening brightly, showing off its worth.

“No, it wasn’t,” Draco replied, placing his hand on hers before gently kissing her knuckles, “Besides, this can save your life, therefore it’s priceless.”

She looked up at him, still stunned speechless. She knew that Protective Amulets were rare, nearly impossible to find as they were in such high demand at this time of crisis, and she had never in a million years expected to receive one.

“What about you? You need to be protected too,” Y/N raised an eyebrow, closing up the box and placing it in her pocket, keeping it safe and away from the prying eyes of passing students. Her and Draco, although public with their relationship, tried their best to keep it as private as possible. She hated the attention they always got for being together.

“Don’t worry about me,” he brushed her off, “You know I’m in a very different position than you are.” He tapped his left forearm as a reminder that he was, in fact, fighting a very different battle than she was. When he showed Y/N the Dark Mark for the first time, they had spent the entire night crying, wrapped up in each other’s arms.

She knew it was coming. Hell, anyone who knew about Draco’s situation knew it was coming. But it didn’t change the shock and heartbreak that Y/N felt looking down at the dark ink permanently etched into the pale skin of her boyfriend. She hated looking at it. It was a reminder that Draco had no control over his life, that his entire legacy was built for him, that this was the reason he didn’t sleep nights. He was just as terrified as she was.

“You’re still dealing with You Know Who,” she pressed on, tossing a strand of her ginger hair out of her face, “If anything, you’d need even more protection. You know I always worry about you, I hate not knowing if you’re okay.”

“Love, it’s okay,” he smiled softly, sadly even, placing a hand on her shoulder and gazing into her brown eyes, “Don’t you worry about me. I can handle my end of the fight.”

Y/N squinted her eyes at him, ready to keep pressing the subject, but decided against it, “Fine. Thank you, though. It’s beautiful.” It truly was beautiful. The red gem in the centre caught her attention right away, the way that it almost seemed to glow under the bright lights.

“I’m glad you like it,” Draco said softly, placing a light kiss on her forehead and interlacing his hand with hers, “Now, should we get a move on to dinner so we can make it in time for pudding?”

Y/N grinned, placing a light kiss to his lips — which he gladly reciprocated — before the two of them made their way into the Great Hall. Draco waved ‘bye’ before making his way over to the Slytherin table, and Y/N made her way over to the Gryffindor one, sitting between her siblings.

“What’d he give you?” Ginny asked, peering over to her sister with a pressing look on her face. She had clearly watched the encounter between the two of them outside the Great Hall, making Y/N’s cheeks flush a light pink.

“A necklace,” Y/N grinned shyly, helping herself to come potatoes, “Protective Amulet, actually.”

“A what?” Ron’s mouth was agape, “Where the bloody hell did he manage to find one of those?”

Y/N shrugged, placing her fork down and taking the little box out of her pocket, making sure no one else was looking, and opened it up. Ginny and Ron looked awestruck, while Fred and George seemed to be too busy paying attention to their food to notice the commotion. Y/N placed the necklace proudly around her neck, letting the Amulet dangle between her collarbones.

“Damn,” Ginny nodded approvingly, “That little squirt has some good taste.”

Y/N giggled, admiring the way the candle light reflected off of the gems. She wasn’t one for fancy jewellery, having even told Draco not to buy her any once they started dating, but this felt like more than a show-off gesture. Him giving her something that would save her life felt like the biggest gesture he could possibly give her, one that really showed how much he cared.

When they started dating about a year ago, it was as if a fire had spread throughout both of their lives. Y/N’s family — her father in particular — were in no means ‘fans’ of the Malfoy family. In fact, although Arthur Weasley denies it, his dislike towards Lucius Malfoy grows exponentially by the day. And Draco’s family on the other hand loved to call Y/N and her family ‘blood traitors’ and ‘disgraces’ as well as making sure the fact that they were poor was very much a topic of conversation.

Both their parents were still iffy about the entire concept of their kids being together, but Y/N’s siblings had learned to accept it, much to her gratitude. Ron took longer than the rest, having dealt with Draco’s bullying first hand for five years now, but he eventually came around as long as they didn’t ‘flaunt their love’ in front of him on a daily basis.

“I reckon he didn’t get one for the rest of us, then?” Ron asked, glaring at Draco on the opposite end of the Great Hall while picking at the chicken legs on his plate.

“If you were his girlfriend I’m sure he would, Ronald,” Ginny replied, chuckling at her brother’s reaction. Y/N laughed as well, her hand still playing with the jewel around her neck as the dinner plates vanished, filling the table with multiple assortments of puddings.

“Always the best part,” Ron shoved his fork in, filling his plate to the brim.

Y/N looked over to the Slytherin table, catching Draco’s eye, and smiled widely at him, pointing to the necklace she was now wearing. He smirked at her, winking and shooting a thumbs up, going unnoticed by everyone else, but causing her entire body to flutter.

— —

“What do you think life will be like after the war?” Y/N was twirling a strand of Draco’s hair, overlooking the grounds of Hogwarts as the two of them sat comfortably in the fresh air of the Astronomy tower. They had used this location for most of their private moments, using it to talk about anything and everything. And of course, it was a good makeout spot.

“Peaceful, I hope,” he replied, gazing up at her quickly before turning back to watch the setting sun. Their sixth year hasn’t exactly been a walk in the park. Voldemort had returned, Dumbledore was missing constantly, and with Snape as the new Defence professor, Y/N Weasley was worried their education wasn’t preparing them well enough for their eventual battle.

“Do you think we’ll win?” she asked, pulling her hand away from his hair and turning to face him with a more serious expression, “By ‘we’ I mean anti-Voldemort people. You know, the good guys.”

Draco, although his parents were forcing him to join the ‘dark side’, was still secretly fighting alongside Y/N. She had helped him overcome the urges that came with his newfound Dark Mark, and promised him she’d stick by his side no matter what. He was prepared to leave the Dark Lord’s orders if it meant keeping her safe.

“I do,” he said softly, sitting up, “I think that once the war happens, we’ll be prepared enough to take him down.”

Y/N smiled softly, brushing her hair out of her face, “Dad says he thinks it’ll happen soon. Everyone at the Ministry is in a frenzy. And Fred and George are basically the only open shop in Diagon Alley, no one wants to go out anymore. The entire Wizarding world is in a panic.”

Draco sighed, gently placing a hand on her cheek, his other hand twirling the Amulet necklace she was wearing, “Love, I can’t promise everything will end up being the way it was before, but no matter what happens, I am not leaving your side. And as long as you wear that—,” he pointed to her Amulet, “—you’ll be by mine as well. And that’s all I want. You.”

“I love you,” she grinned, pulling him in for a tender kiss, “We’ll get through this together, yeah?”

“Of course, my love.”

— —

The war had come.

As another wall came crumbling down mere meters from her, Y/N dodged out of the way, her wand still gripped tightly in her hand.

She had been preparing for this for two years now, ever since Harry had emerged from the Triwizard Maze with Cedric’s lifeless body. They had prepared for this when Dumbledore’s Army came to life, all of them training constantly to fight back against the dark forces that were bound to come.

But, as Y/N gazed around the crumbling Hogwarts, watching some of her friends die before her very eyes, she realized that nothing could have really prepared her for this.

“Petrificus Totalus!” she shouted, the Death Eater that was standing in front of her now tumbling down the staircase as stiff as a board. She watched him fall for a long while before deciding to take off down another hallway, gliding against the wall to avoid being seen. She had intelligently decide to wear all black clothing to believe she’d be well hidden, but completely ignored the fact that her bright red hair gave her away instantly. It wasn’t her best moment.

“Y/N!” Hermione and Harry came barreling around the corner, frightening her nearly half to death, followed by Ron, Percy and Fred shortly after.

“Oh, thank Merlin, it’s you guys,” she hugged her brothers quickly, noticing the deep cut on Ron’s cheek and the blood coming from Percy’s hairline. She herself had a few deep scrapes and bruises as well, the blood smeared across her face and hands. Some of it hers, some of it not.

“Why are you all alone?” Harry asked, eyes darting around the corridor with full alertness, “We should all have backup.”

“I lost Ginny after a chandelier came crashing down,” Y/N said, her voice shaky with adrenaline, “We took off in opposite directions.”

“Is she okay?” Harry’s eyes were wide, the panic evident in the way his head snapped violently towards her.

Y/N grinned softly, clutching her wand tightly, “She’s safe, Harry.” He let out a sigh of relief, nodding his head slightly.

“Snape’s dead,” his voice was quieter, almost regretful.

Y/N felt her heart drop. She was never fond of Snape — he hated her and her family to his very core — but he was still someone she had looked up to, “Oh, that’s awful. An awful way to go, in the middle of a war.”

“Where’s Malfoy?” Ron asked, looking out the window that was facing the grounds, green and red flashes blasting in countless different directions.

“I—I don’t know,” Y/N admitted. She had seen him not ten minutes ago, he had arrived with his parents looking very sunken and gloomy, but they hadn’t had a chance to speak two words to each other since the battle had begun. She was worried for his safety, but she figured no one was really after him. Students didn’t know he was a Death Eater and Narcissa would protect her son until her dying breath.

Her heart sunk thinking about him. Since the end of their sixth year, things had been weird. She didn’t blame him, he had insane pressure being thrust upon his shoulders. His parents wouldn’t let him leave their side and Y/N’s parents would let her leave the house or even send Owls. She had pretty much lost all contact with him.

After the summer holidays and after Y/N attended her older brother Bill’s wedding, she had not spoken a single word to him.

Were they even together anymore?

“He’s here, though,” she spoke up once realizing she had been silent for a while, “I saw him.”

Hermione nodded understandingly, placing a hand on Y/N’s shoulder. Hermione, who had been falling for Ron since third year, was the only person Y/N really confided in about her relationship. She didn’t even tell Ginny much. The only reason she confided in Hermione was because she knew about her feelings towards Ron. They often had late night chats about boys and their futures — those chats were some of the best moments in Y/N’s time at Hogwarts, really.

“Look out!” Ron shouted, but it was too late. Y/N was sent flying backwards, crashing into a stone pillar, violently hitting her skull and spine. She could feel the blood oozing out of the back of her head, her eyesight becoming insanely fuzzy, but she opened her eyes in time to see Fred hex the Death Eater, who went flying out a broken window.

Y/N’s eyes started to droop again, and that’s when she noticed the Amulet sitting on the ground in a tiny pile of rubble. It was no longer on her. Panicking slightly, she cleared her throat, blinking rapidly to regain her proper vision.

“Fred—,” she croaked out to the closest person, lifting her hand to point down at it, “Can you get it for me? The Amulet?”

Fred picked it up, rushing over to help his little sister stand up. After she was on her feet, still reasonably dizzy and lightheaded, a bright green flash had flown by, blinding them all for a good moment.

“Avada Kedavra!” Y/N ducked down, her heart skipping a beat. Someone was going to die. 

Fred’s hand — that had been linked with her own — was now gone. The spell had hit him right in the middle of his chest and he was sent flying back, his body lying limp on the floor in a heap of broken stone.

Y/N thought she was going to vomit. She rushed over, letting Percy and Harry deal with the Death Eater, and picked up Fred’s head, resting it in her lap. His hair was standing on end as if he had been electrocuted, and his skin felt hot to the touch, but it didn’t stop her from attempting to shake him awake.

“Freddie?” she asked, her voice still trembling but this time due to the fact that she was holding back tears, “Freddie, please wake up.”

Ron was slumped against a wall, his eyes red and his breathing irregular as he watched Y/N try to wake up their brother. Hermione was comforting him, leaning her head against his shoulder, also trying to keep her emotions in.

Y/N couldn’t take her eyes away from her dead brother, whose eyes were still open wide, a faint smile on his lips that had been there before he got his with the blinding green flash.

“Fred, please wake up,” Y/N cried softly, ignoring Percy leaning down next to her and holding Fred’s limp hand in his own. She shut her eyes, letting the tears flow freely. The feeling of loss was horrendous. She was never going to hear Fred talk, or hear another one of his stupid jokes—

“Reckon I better thank the Slytherin git.”

Y/N’s eyes shot open, looking down at Fred, whose face was now in a painful grimace. His eyes were still closed but he was breathing. His eyelids flickered open and he coughed violently, dust and bits of stone coming out of his mouth.

“Fred?” Y/N dropped his head, placing her hands over his chest to check for a heartbeat to make sure she wasn’t imagining things, and thankfully, there was one, “Fred, you’re alive...”

“Do I have Harry’s scar?” he asked, eyes opening slightly and his infamous grin making its way back onto his face as if he hadn’t just died, “On my forehead, do I have one now too?”

Y/N, too shocked to do anything, glanced up at his forehead, “No.”

“Damn,” Fred muttered, still coughing, “That’s rather unfortunate.” Y/N couldn’t believe he was still alive. But as she looked down to his hand, which was now open, she could see the bright glow of the Protective Amulet glistening brightly. Fred had it. 

“It saved him,” Ron muttered, his eyes wide as he leaned off of the wall, walking over to see his siblings, “Y/N, you had him pick it up for you and it saved him.”

Y/N was still speechless. Her own heart had regained its beat, but her head was still spinning, and the feeling of wanting to vomit was probably even stronger now than when she thought he was dead.

Fred carefully made his way to stand up assisted by Ron and Percy, while Y/N still crouched on the floor next to where he had been laying, her eyes glued to the floor in shock.

“You good, little sis?” Fred asked, sticking his hand out to help her up, “I’m the one who nearly died but you’re the one who seems to be on the verge of passing out.”

“I need to go see Malfoy,” she stood up hastily, rubbing the dirt from her hands onto her pants before pulling her brother into a bone-crushing hug, “Believe me, I’m thankful you’re alive. You have no idea. But I need to go see him.”

“What a roller coaster,” Ron ran his hand down his face, shaking his head before pulling Fred in for a hug as well, “George will have a laugh.”

“Yeah, I’m sure he’ll find his twin brother almost dying hilarious,” Hermione scoffed, crossing her arms, “Y/N, why do you need to go see Malfoy? Isn’t he, you know, not on our side?”

Y/N shook her head vigorously, eyes wide, “He’s always been on our side. He had a weird way of showing it, but he’s never been evil,” she leaned over to pick up her wand off the floor and proceeded to place it in her inside coat pocket, “He’s been forced by his parents to become dangerous. I need to go help him.”

“But why now?” Percy asked, eyeing his little sister with what could only be seen as suspicion. Percy had been the only vocal sibling about his dislike towards Malfoy. Working alongside the Ministry for so many years now, he had heard horrible tales of Lucius Malfoy and tried to keep his youngest sister away from that family the best he could. Unsuccessfully, of course.

“Because he saved Fred, Perc,” she replied, her voice firm, “Well, indirectly, but still. He helped me. I need to go help him.”

The rest of the gang was silent, no one wanting to argue with Y/N — the fire in her eyes was burning bright and there was no way they would attempt to put it out. She was determined, and no one stops a Weasley.

“Do you want backup?” Harry asked cautiously, “Just incase his parents are around, that is.”

“No,” she shook her head once more, “I need to go alone.”

And without another word, she bolted down the nearby staircase, careful not to step on bodies and trying her best to avoid tripping on large chunks of rubble. The school that she had been practically living in for seven years looked unrecognizable. Walls were blown away, blood was smeared on the floors, unfamiliar bodies littered the corridors, and the constant flash of spells reminded her of a violent thunderstorm.

She continued rushing downstairs, luckily avoiding any encounters, and barged into the Great Hall, where she did indeed find Draco. His hair was a mess, his eyes were bloodshot, and his lip was quivering. He was naturally very pale, but he looked even more ghostly under the faint light and the fact that he was surrounded by at least a dozen Death Eaters.

Her heart caught in her throat as she noticed all the eyes in the room now locked on her, Draco’s as well.

“Well, well,” Bellatrix Lestrange’s cackling voice reached her ears and she could feel her fingers begin to shake as they gripped her wand even tighter, “It’s another Weasley, is it not?”

Y/N locked eyes with Draco, who seemed even more panicked now that she was in the room. He nudged his head towards the door, silently telling her to leave, but she shook her head and stood her ground.

“Bella, don’t intimidate our guest,” Lucius Malfoy’s voice reached her ears and she grimaced. He had never liked her, and she doubted he would play saint right now.

“My name’s Y/N,” she said weakly, ignoring the laughs of the Death Eaters who were thrilled by her discomfort. She only recognized a few of them, having heard from Draco who they were, but some were unfamiliar, and the uncertainty of the situation she was in was starting to settle in her chest.

Lucius chucked, running a hand through his greasy blond hair, “Yes, yes, I am familiar with you. Draco, this is your little... girlfriend... is it not?”

Draco’s eyes were wide and he shook his head, tossing his hair back and forth aggressively, “No. We broke up.”

If Y/N wasn’t already devastated, she was now. Was he being honest, or was it just to get Lucius to leave her alone? The coldness in his eyes told her that it was true, but the way he was silently pleading her to leave the room also made her believe he was just trying to keep her safe.

“Ah,” Lucius nodded his head, holding his wand and twirling it through his fingers, “Then why are you here? You’re hardly Death Eater material.”

Y/N froze on the spot, having no idea what to say. Her eyes were wide, her mouth slightly open, and her entire body trembling in both fear and adrenaline.

“Isn’t it clear?” Narcissa Malfoy emerged from behind her husband, her face fierce but her eyes showing the same uneasiness as her son, “It doesn’t matter why she’s here. It matters what we do with her.”

Lucius’ smirk widened as he faced his son, “Ah, yes. Draco, would you do the honours?”

Y/N took a step backwards, wishing she could leave but knowing there was no chance of that now. Draco’s face fell and his lip opened to speak, until he was cut off by his mother once more.

“I highly doubt we should do this here. I’ll escort Draco and Miss Weasley out, we will do this privately,” Narcissa demanded, glaring at her husband, “This is a war, but have some respect for your son, Lucius.”

Narcissa approached Y/N, who was still standing rooted to the floor, face pale and hands balled up into fists so tightly that all colour had left her hands. She knew Narcissa was more fond of her than Lucius, but she didn’t think that she would be the one to force Draco to kill her.

“Come with me,” Narcissa whispered in Y/N’s ear, grabbing her wrist and pulling her out of the room. Y/N was being pulled around so quickly she didn’t have the chance to look at Draco, who was following in tow with tearful eyes.

“In here,” Narcissa pushed Y/N into a dark classroom, pulled Draco in behind her, and shut the door forcefully. Y/N was holding back hot tears, reaching into her jacket slowly to pull out her wand, prepared to defend herself if ever she was going to be attacked by one of the two people in the room with her.

“No need for that,” Narcissa snapped quietly, “I’m not going to make Draco kill you.”

Both Y/N and Draco’s heads snapped up to face her, their expressions nearly matched.

“I’m not a horrible person,” she scoffed, “I know you two need a moment. I will stand guard outside this door.”

With a swift movement, she was outside, the door shut behind her. Y/N and Draco were alone in the room, heavy breathing being the only sound either of them could hear. It felt strange being alone with him, they hadn’t really interacted or been together in such a long time. A lot had happened, and by the looks of it, Draco wasn’t exactly doing any better.

His hands were clenched around his wand, fingers white, and his eyes glued to the floor.

“The Amulet saved Fred,” Y/N spoke up first, wiping away the tears that had threatened to spill, “I wanted to say thank you for giving it to me.”

“You could have been killed,” Draco snapped, taking a seat on top of one of the desks, running his hands through his hair and then down his face, frustration laced into his features, “You know how dangerous this lot is.”

“Yes, I do know,” Y/N replied softly despite the bubbling frustration she was feeling, “But you helped me. I needed to come try and help you.”

He shook his head, locking his eyes with hers, “I gave that to you to save you. I don’t need you to return the favour.”

Y/N had gotten used to his insane stubbornness, but she was beginning to get irritated. They were in the middle of a war, this was hardly the time to get into an argument about a necklace.

“Draco, please, let me help you,” she placed her hands on his, and thankfully, he didn’t pull away like she expected him too. His hands were hot, the feeling of his skin touching hers making her entire body relax.

“How? How can I just leave them?” his voice was no longer accusatory, but gentle and vulnerable, “I want to, believe me, but I can’t. It’s too dangerous. And they’ll know you were involved.”

Sitting next to him on the desk, Y/N wrapped her hand around his shoulders and pulled him in for a hug, not thinking twice. He relaxed against her touch, resting his head against her shoulder and letting his hands fall around her waist. It was an awkward hug, considering they were sitting down, but Y/N loved it nonetheless.

She leaned into him, running her hand through his matted hair and placing her forehead against his shoulder, “It’s going to be hard, I know, but I’ll be by your side. I just want to save you the way you saved me.”

She was extremely cautious of pressuring him too much. Draco had spent his enter life being pushed into things, ordered around. When they had started dating two years before, he was careful not to let her see too much of who he was. But when he opened up, Y/N jumped at the chance to make sure he knew she would always be there. She reminded him every second of the day that all she wanted to do was help him. Watching him become a Death Eater was the hardest thing she had ever gone through — she couldn’t imagine what it was like for him.

If she wasn’t currently giving Draco her undivided attention, she would have missed the way he nodded his head softly, mumbling a quiet ‘okay.’

“Okay, good,” she pulled away from him, flashing the best smile she could muster despite the weight on her shoulders, “Your mother is outside this door. She can help us. She can tell the others that you killed me or... performed the Cruciatus curse, no?”

“I guess she could,” Draco replied, standing off the desk and standing in front of Y/N, “She told me I could make up my own mind. And I’m doing just that.”

Y/N felt her heart swell. She hopped off the desk too, linking her hand with his. He smiled softly down at her. It didn’t reach his eyes, but she could tell he really did appreciate what she was doing for him. He had never been able to actually get help before, but now that she was standing here in front of him, he couldn’t leave her.

“Come on,” she started leading him towards the door, but as she tugged on his hand, he stayed still, “Draco, what—?”

“Are you wearing the necklace?” he asked softly, eyes scanning her neck.

“Yes,” she replied, reaching under her shirt and taking it out from where she had placed it back on while running down to the Great Hall. Despite the dark room and the tense atmosphere, the jewel still glowed brightly.

Draco looked at it, his eyes softening, and pulled Y/N to him, pressing his lips against hers like she was his life source. Their lips moulded perfectly, as if everything around them ceased to exist. The distant screams could no longer be heard, and the darkness in the room seemed comfortable.

They pulled away from each other hesitantly, both of them having new found determination in their eyes.

“I think I’m ready,” Draco presses his forehead up against hers, his hand reaching to fumble with the Amulet, rolling it between his fingers, “I love you so much. And I didn’t mean it when I said we were broken up, you know.”

“I know. And I love you just as much,” Y/N replied, placing a quick kiss on his cheek, her heart soaring, and pulled her wand out of her pocket. They laced their hands together once more, walking towards the heavy door and pulling it open, ready for what was to face them.

Narcissa, looking slightly more frazzled than before, looked between them, then down to their interlaced fingers.

“I have to go,” Draco’s face was set, all trace of vulnerability he showed in the room were now gone. Y/N squeezed his hand tighter, supporting him. He squeezed back as a silent thank you.

Narcissa nodded, “I understand. Be safe, Draco.”

Draco nodded, turning to face Y/N, and proceeded to run down the hall with her by his side. Not in the direction of the Great Hall, but towards the battle, where both of them could save the place and people they grew up with. As they reached the courtyard unscathed, Draco pulled out his wand.

“Together, yeah?” he asked, clenching his jaw and gripping the wand in his hand, his other one still linked with Y/N’s.

“Yeah, together,” Y/N replied, lifting his hand to kiss his knuckles, “Let’s go win a war.”

[katherynefromphilly]

Posting this just to show that yes, I am writing. It’s from the first draft of “Into The Golden Age”

……

That night, Merlin dreamed of Camelot.

He stood upon the northern ramparts, facing the distant mountains. Two dragons soared over the lower town, red and gold, their wings shining in the sun. They were beautiful, but he was afraid.

“They’ll be fine,” Arthur said. “They’ll be careful of the helicopters.”

"Helicopters," Merlin said, but realized Arthur was right. Above the dragons were a half dozen helicopters, close and growing closer.

But no. That was wrong. There hadn't been helicopters in Camelot. And there hadn’t been dragons like this either.

“There will always be dragons, boy,” said the voice of his father. “I told you that already, remember?”

Merlin turned upon the ramparts-- stone beneath his feet now, not the grassy hill that hid the castle-- and he discovered his father, dressed in noble’s clothes, the thread shining like dragon scales. He was clasping Arthur’s forearm in the old style, as if having just made an agreement.

"Did I miss something?” Merlin asked.

A touch on his arm: His mother this time. “I’m so happy for you, my son. For both of you.”

“Mother? How are you here?”

“Look at that, it's crooked," she said, reaching up to adjust the circlet upon his head.

Merlin looked down at himself. He wore a tunic and breeches the color of the sea under a moonless sky, silver stars woven all through the fine fabric. He started to protest-- he’d told Arthur he wasn’t interested in changing his station because of their marriage-- but when he looked at his king, all his words flew from his head.

Arthur was beautiful, his crown shining upon his head bright as the sun, his chainmail sparkling with magic as he took Merlin’s hand.

“We’re ready,” Arthur said.

Geoffrey stepped forward, opening a thick dusty book. “Do you," he began, "Arthur Pendragon, Son of Ygraine and Uther, Child Born of Magic, Once and Future King of Albion, hereby swear to be protector of all the known realms, by the oaths of the Old Religions and the New, for all your life?”

“I do."

“Wait,” Merlin said. "That's not right. He's reading from the wrong book-"

“And do you,” Geoffrey interrupted, “Merlin, Son of Hunith and Balinor, Child Made of Magic Itself, Emrys to the Druids, Dragonlord to dragonkind, hereby swear to be protector of all the known realms, by the oaths Old Religions and the New, for all your life?”

“Arthur, tell him,” Merlin said. “We’re meant to be getting married. We’re supposed to be saying our wedding vows.”

“That's what we're doing.”

“No, we’re…”

“Emrys,” Geoffrey said, “what is your response?”

“Don’t you see them?” Merlin whispered, terrified, because thousands of people stood beyond the castle walls, all of them dressed in modern clothing, all of them knowing the oaths being given. Dozens of helicopters moved above them, dragons darting between them, plain for all to see. It was every one of his secrets exposed. Every one of his fears coming true. "Arthur… They can see..."

“Merlin,” Arthur said.

“Everyone can see!“

“Merlin!”

...

Merlin sat up in bed flailing, his hand knocking into Arthur's arm, spilling his coffee all over his t-shirt.

“God’s sakes, Merlin,” Arthur grumbled, tugging at his shirt and brushing his hand down his jeans, before giving Merlin a sharp look and dropping the cup to the hotel room table. “Now I need to get changed before we can leave!”

Merlin shielded his eyes from the daylight beyond the window. The beach was bright with the sun, the blue waters of the Gulf of Mexico sparkling as they stretched to the horizon. “I dreamed of dragons. Dragons… and helicopters?”

Arthur pulled a red t-shirt from his luggage, sniffed it, then pulled it on over his head. “You’re just nervous about today.”

“I can’t imagine why. I mean, you've only signed us up for a flight over an active volcano.”

“Don't be such a child. Nothing is going to go wrong.”

Merlin flopped back into bed, hands pressed to his face. “I really wish you wouldn't say things like that."

….

[fandomficsnstuff]

Idiot

(Okay so I’m in the mood for some Bill Williamson stuff, so, buckle up darlings! And hopefully I did him justice)

Warnings: a bit angst I think, but major fluff at the end, and Bill being a cute little thang as always (I adore him and his awkwardness)

You scoffed as you watched Bill warm up his gelders, but you couldn’t help the smirk that pulled on your lips “are you really gonna torture the poor boy?” Bil shrugged, an amused grin on his face that you found adorable “if it’ll make him talk, then it’ll make him talk” you rolled your eyes playfully at his statement, following him back to Dutch, Arthur and the poor boy tied to a tree, his pants down around his ankles, and when he saw you come over as well he turned bright red. “D-Does s-she have to watch? Please I don’t know nothing!” you couldn’t help but feel bad for the poor guy, but then you reminded yourself that he was an O’Driscoll, he didn’t exactly deserve any kind of sympathy.

“Ain’t nothing you got I ain’t seen before kid” you scoffed, and when he realized that you weren’t leaving and you weren’t stopping them he only grew more scared, screaming and yelping out what you’d all been listening to for weeks now. “Dutch he’s really givin’ me a headache” you complained and Bill smirked at you “want me to fix it?” you smiled at him “yes please” Bill laughed and brought his heated gelders closer to the poor boy and he finally snapped “okay!! I know where O’Driscoll’s at, a place called Six Point Cabin! I can show you! Just p-please put those away!” Dutch nodded to Bill who put them away, though not in good spirit “aw don’t worry dear, maybe you can geld him some other time” you whispered, causing Bill’s ears to go bright red as he blushed, glancing at you “well here’s to hopin’” you smiled at him.

When Arthur called Bill to ride with him, along with John and the O’Driscoll, you quickly caught up to Bill, catching his wrist “I don’t like it… the O’Driscoll I mean” you whispered low, making Bill scoff “what, think I can’t take care of myself?” he got rather defensive, making you sigh “that ain’t what I’m sayin’, I’m just trying to tell you to-”

“I know how to stay safe, woman! Ain’t gotta be lectured about it from you!” he snapped, making sure his saddle was ready, he didn’t even look at you “Bill Williamson don’t you dare talk to me like that! I’m only saying this because I love you, you idiot! But you’re too busy defending yourself from nothin’ to realise that! I’m asking you to be careful out there cause I want you back in one piece, so help me God! I’m an even bigger idiot than you, but at least I’m aware of it!” you snapped, turning on your heel and walking far out of his sight, leaving a shocked Bill standing frozen by his horse. It wasn’t until Arthur spoke to him that he snapped out of it, seeing both John, Arthur and the O’Driscoll looking at him, making him get flustered “damn woman” he said out loud, though he didn’t really mean it, as he saddled up, going with Arthur.

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

You looked to Abigail as she nudged you, Abigail nodding towards the entry to camp, and you followed her look, seeing none other than Bill Williamson with John and the O’Driscoll, but as soon as John and Kieran was dropped off, he rode off again, and you bit your lip, looking down at the washboard in thought. Once again brought back to reality by Abigail, you sighed “I-... maybe I was too hard on him over nothing…” you mumbled, but you knew she heard you, she shook her head “no, you needed to get that off of ya chest, you love him, and you know I know what it’s like to love someone who doesn’t love me back…” she glanced at John and you felt a pang of guilt “I’m sorry, Abigail, at least Bill is with me… John-”

“John is… John, but I know where I stand with him at least, I love him and he doesn’t love me, but he’s still the father of my son. With you and Bill it’s… complicated. You’re together but not an item, it’s confusing, you know?” you sighed at her words, nodding your head slightly, “maybe it was too soon? Sayin’ that I love him, you know?” Abigail shrugged “do you?” you nodded in response, still looking at the washboard in silence “then it wasn't anything but right” she concluded before going back to her chore, making you think for a bit before doing the same.

It had been an hour or so since Bill rode off again, and a part of you worried, and another part of you tried to act indifferent, though that was not going to happen anytime soon. Every time you heard the sound of galloping hooves you turned your head in the direction, hoping it would be him, but it was just Arthur returning, or Charles with a dead deer on his horse. But finally you heard another set of hooves, turning your head to see the familiar horse of Brown Jack and it’s familiar owner on top, Bill Williamson, with a package on his horse. You looked away as he saddled down, hitching Brown Jack and taking the package, you missed the way he scanned the camp, his eyes scanning for you and the quick smile, which faded even quicker, once he saw you, sitting by the girls’ tent, stitching an old shirt that he recognized to be one of his own, his chest filling with warmth at the sight of you stitching up his old shirt.

He approached, thankful that you were alone before clearing his throat, the package, although rather large and not very well hidden, behind his back. You turned to look up at him, narrowing your eyes at him as he had a nervous look to him “if you’re about to tell me somethin’ then just tell me, Bill, I’m not exactly in a good mood today” you mumbled the last part, looking back down you missed the way his look softened and he looked almost guilty “well erhm… I uh-... good thing I got you this then” he showed you the package, making you study it in both curiosity and confusion, he had never brought you any gift, at least not anything else besides a wild flower or two when no one was around to see it, and usually he left before you could even say thank you, so to say that this was a new thing was an understatement “what is it?” he shuffled his feet awkwardly “well… open it up and see” he mumbled, handing you the package and sat down on a box next to you, trying to hide his excitement as you put the old shirt away and began to slowly open the packaging “I uh, felt bad about, you know… so yeah” he muttered awkwardly, clearly an indicator that he thought you took too long to open it, so you sped up a bit.

Pushing the wrapping paper aside, you saw a skirt in your favorite color, it had small patterns of flowers, big and small, woven into it with a black thread. Picking up the skirt, you saw a blouse underneath, pulling that on top to study it as well, it was white, and matched perfectly with the skirt, which was an indicator that Bill himself had not picked it out, the poor guy had no sense of fashion for men, let alone women. You let your hand run across the fabric, a smile making it’s way onto your lips as you looked back at him, pure joy in your eyes. “I-Is it alright? T-the woman at the store said that it would fit, at least I think so…” you scoffed, making him look at you like you had rejected him, but it was only until you chuckled low, now grinning at him “it’s beautiful! Thank you, Bill, I love it” you leaned over and pecked his cheek, causing him to blush like crazy, his ears turning to a whole other shade of red than you had ever seen before “I-I-... well I’m glad you like it a-and I’m sorry, about before” you giggled slightly “it’s alright Bill, you already apolo-”

“No not that… for not sayin’ it back, you know?... c-cause I do, a-a-and when I was in the army I-I remember fellas talkin’ about finding a wife and such when they got outta the army, and a lot joined the army again which I don’t get, but-... what I’m tryin’ to say is that was never me, I ain’t never thought I’d find me a woman, not in the way they were sayin’, marriage and stuff, a-and I still ain’t sure… but-... I-... damn it I ain’t good at talking!” he grew frustrated in the end, huffing annoyed which only made you hide your giggle, though he still heard it and glared slightly at you “I think I understand what you’re sayin’, Bill” you put one of your hands over his, giving it a gentle squeeze, all of his frustration leaving him when he saw the sweet look on your face, now his face was flushed for different reasons, and no longer out of frustration.

“I-.. I really do-... you know… a-and I-I know I ain’t much of a-a-a poet or a romantic but-... I will-... and I just... you know?” you smiled and nodded at him, earning you a relieved huff from the big, tough, army man. You leaned over and pressed a more meaningful peck to his cheek, feeling how hot his cheeks were under his beard, thanks to being so flushed. You looked back at the skirt and blouse, grinning and getting up, Bill looking confused “where are ya goin’?” you shrugged “I want to try out my new clothes” you giggled as he once again flushed. You went into the bushes and changed, coming back out with the new clothes on and the old in your arms, you put your old clothes down on your bedroll, watching as Bill got up, grinning like an idiot as he studied your figure and how the clothes look on you, something that made you blush this time, not him. Bill approached you and carefully, almost afraid of rejection, but his hands on your waist, looking down at you “you look real beautiful” he blushed at his own comment, making you giggle “thank you, Bill” you rested your arms on his shoulders, leaning up and pressing a quick kiss to his lips, when you drew back you saw his eyes were closed, and you decided to kiss him again, only this time he kissed you back, and you couldn’t help but smile into the kiss. “I love you, you damned idiot” you mumbled into the kiss, feeling him smile slightly in return “I love you too, darlin’”. You loved the way he held you, the way he kissed you, the way his beard tickled your skin and lips, how he tasted slightly of whiskey, how he smelt of gunpowder, liquor and something uniquely him, but most of all you loved Bill Williamson, and you’d be damned if you ever let him go.

[longing-and-heartache-and-lust]

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

[previous] [next] [Ao3]

A new chapter for my work for this year’s @geraskierbigbang in collaboration with the amazing @gen-syz-art as my artist ✨

____________________________

When he wakes, it’s still early morning. 

His head feels much more clear than it did last night and Geralt almost chuckles at his own impressionability but somewhere deep in his chest, he still feels that pull of uncertainty, of a “what if”.

Before long, however, he’s back on the Path. 

Finding his way back to the mansion isn’t hard, he still remembers the directions the alderman had given him for the nekker contract and remembers also where he needs to leave the main road in order to find what he’s looking for. 

The sun is just starting to get properly warm when he stops Roach in front of the gates. 

“I won’t be long,” he tells her, jumping down from the saddle and running his hand over the mare’s neck. “A few minutes at most.”

Roach snorts at him, flicking her ears to indicate her disinterest. 

Geralt leaves her be, taking the brush and the dog collars wrapped in black cloth out of the saddlebags and walking up to the gates. Surely, he thinks, It’s going to be Arthur that’s going to come to see who’s there. 

He barely raises his hand to push open one of the arches of the gates, assuming that they’re open just like they’ve been the last time, when, seemingly out of nowhere, Lucio appears, his ears perked up in interest. There are only a few steps between them, and it’s a matter of seconds before the dog is right at the other side of the gates, its long nose sticking out between the intricate metal bars and sniffing at Geralt’s extended hand. 

Geralt isn’t really expecting to be recognised, but Lucio doesn’t bark and doesn’t bare his teeth, just inspects his hand for a moment or two, and then turns back towards the mansion, quickly disappearing somewhere between the rosebushes. 

Something deep inside Geralt tells him to wait, and so he does, shifting from one leg to the other a little awkwardly. 

It doesn’t take long. 

“Who is there?” he hears Julian’s voice, addressed to Lucio. “Arthur didn’t tell me someone was coming.”

Fuck, Geralt thinks. 

He’s suddenly hyper-aware that he’s got no real reason to be here other than he couldn’t get his own thoughts in check, and now facing Julian feels like facing the consequences of that. If it had been Arthur, like Geralt had hoped, it would’ve been so much easier. He would’ve given him the collars and asked to hand them over to Julian together with his gratitude and maybe a greeting, but now… Now he has to actually make sense of his being here. 

It’s way too late to leave, for even if he was able to make it to Roach in time, Julian would see him riding away. And in the end, well, how scary can it be. If he lets his own uncertainty get the best of him now, his brothers are never going to let him hear the end of it. 

“Geralt?” he hears, and now there’s no turning back. 

Julian emerges from behind one of the trees planted at either side of the gates, both his dogs close at his side. His snow-white chemise with voluminous sleeves pinched in at the wrists and embroidered with an intricate pattern of gold thread really does make him look like a prince, and for a second Geralt is overwhelmed with an irrational desire to bow, last night’s conversation with the innkeeper coming back to him. 

“Julian,” he says, giving up on himself and inclining his head like he’s at court. 

The younger man smiles at him, bright and open, like he’s an old friend, and opens the gates, gesturing for the witcher to come in. Geralt half-expects the dogs to run outside, into the forest, but they don’t take a single step, staying close to their master like guardians. 

“Why are you here? Another contract?” Julian asks, and Geralt knows that just standing there when the door has been opened is impolite, so despite his own better judgement, he steps through the gates. 

His throat is suddenly dry. 

“No,” he says finally. “No, no contracts. I-- I took this, on accident.”

Julian takes the brush from his extended hand, narrowing his eyes like he’s trying to figure out if Geralt is messing with him, and the smile on his lips only grows wider. 

“I didn’t notice at first, but then I did, and I wanted to return it,” Geralt falters for a second, looking at the bundle in his hands. “And I also wanted to give you this. In gratitude for the kindness you’ve shown me.”

Julian’s eyes light up and he takes the bundle from Geralt, running his fingers over the soft black cloth.

“You really shouldn’t have,” he says, undoing the lace holding it together. “Anyone would’ve done the same.”

“No,” Geralt says, almost too quickly. “Not anyone. I think you know that.”

Julian darts him a quick look from under his long lashes, and as the fabric unwraps in his hands, gasps. An endless second goes by in silence, and Geralt is more than aware of his inability to take in a proper breath, but then Julian is smiling again, even brighter somehow, and his heart starts beating once more. 

“They’re beautiful,” Julian says, picking up one of the collars and running his fingers over the dyed leather, the metal of the eyelets and the little quartz details that shine in the sun. “Oh, they’re absolutely gorgeous.”

He leans down, petting Lucio on the head, and fastens the collar around his neck, the purple a sharp, beautiful contrast to the white fur. It’s a perfect size, tight enough not to get lost but also not digging into the fur and disrupting its flow.

Lucio doesn’t budge, and neither does Asra, when Julian puts a collar on her, as well. Once he straightens his back again, though, the dogs sniff at each other in interest. 

“Oh, would you look at them, they look gorgeous,” he says, turning back to Geralt. “Thank you. That’s so thoughtful of you.”

And then, before Geralt knows it, Julian reaches out and takes his hand, holding it in both of his. It’s only a second, how long it lasts, but his mind short-circuits. 

“Will you stay for lunch?” Julian asks, indicating to the front door with a move of his head. “Don’t tell me you came all this way to leave so soon.”

Geralt stares at his hand, half-expecting there to be imprints of Julian’s fingers where they touched the leather of his glove. His touch burns on Geralt’s skin, and for a few long moments he finds himself unable to concentrate on anything else. 

Finally, he clears his throat and meets Julian’s eyes. 

“I wouldn’t want to distract you from--” he starts but Julian cuts him short. 

“Oh, don’t be like that,” he smiles, already turning towards the mansion. “Come on. Arthur will take care of your horse for you.”

***

Somehow, Geralt allows himself to be convinced. Again. 

He gives Roach an apologetic look over his shoulder, as if trying to tell her that he’s helpless in this situation, and follows Julian to the front door, still feeling like he doesn’t belong here. 

It was so self-indulgent of him, coming here. Finding something that would justify him coming back, riding for three days with barely enough rest, asking about the mansion back in that little town, and now - following Julian to the front door after promising himself that he would only stop for a moment before leaving. 

And all of that, for what? 

To talk? To feel like he’s more than just his medallion and swords? Or just to feel the warmth of the younger man’s fingers on his skin again? 

The answer was right there, turning restlessly in Geralt’s chest, but he couldn’t bring himself to turn his attention to it, not yet. He knew it was stupid, spending an entire month with his mind slipping back to this mansion whenever he would loosen the grip on his self-control, and at first he did keep it all at bay but the further the Path took him, the more contempt glares he felt on himself and more whispers he heard behind his back, the brighter burned that fire of longing in his chest. 

He wasn’t sure if he could be blamed for it but then again, it’s always the easiest option - to justify yourself in your own eyes. 

Suddenly, that fire in his chest flares and Geralt can feel the heat run through his vein only to freeze into ice once it reaches his heart. What if he’d misjudged? What if Julian was just being nice because he was afraid, just like everyone else always was, and him returning here was the single worst thing he could’ve done? 

What if he read into his smiles and fluttering touches wrong, made it all up because he was tired and hurt after the hunt? The lingering effects of his elixirs were still wearing off by the time he’d stumbled upon the mansion, and even though they weren’t affecting his appearance anymore, they could still have been playing tricks on his mind without Geralt even realising. 

The witcher stops dead in his tracks, just a few steps away from the door, his heart beating hard against his ribcage. 

He never should’ve come. If he wanted so bad to give Julian the fucking collars, he could’ve hired a messenger boy in town, it would’ve only cost him three or four crowns. But instead, he’d decided to make the trip himself, how lost in his own delusions he was. 

Geralt is already turning away, ready to leave and then, somehow, make himself forget about all of this, but before he can turn his back to the door, Julian’s voice breaks through the haze in his mind. 

“Are you going to stay on the doorstep?” he enquires, a teasing little smile to his voice. “You know, Witcher, I’ve once read that vampires cannot enter a building unless they’re invited in. Are you, by any chance, one of those, seeing that I seem to have to do that every time?”

Geralt turns to look at him, leaning against the doorframe, and the smile playing on Julian’s lips gets right under his skin in a wave of warmth. And just like that, the spell is broken. 

The witcher blinks, bringing himself back to the present, and all the thoughts that were making his mind race but a second ago, fade into a faint echo. 

There is nothing in Julian that indicates fear or resentment. He smells of sweetgrass - or is it vanilla? - and cinnamon, just as sweet and home-like as he did the first time they met, and Geralt finally takes in a proper breath, letting that scent fill his lungs. 

“Nonsense,” he chuckles. “If vampires needed an invitation to get into a building, I wouldn’t have a job. And, well, even that was the case and I just happened to be one of them, disguising myself as a witcher, you’ve already given me access once, so there would now only be so many places that you could hide in.”

Julian gasps theatrically, pressing a hand over his heart, but then just laughs, eyes sparkling as he steps aside to let Geralt through the door and into the sunlit hallway. 

“Well, that’s a rather romantic way to die,” he says.

Geralt doesn’t mention that vampires - aside from the Higher ones - tend to rip their prey apart and not just bite them on the neck like he’d seen described in a few books.  

Julian takes him down the endless corridor, ducking into the dining room by the staircase and then peeking into the kitchen to tell someone that the lunch should be served for two. 

It’s still strange, being in the mansion, but Geralt makes himself forget about it. At least to a degree. 

“It’s still a few hours until everything will be ready,” Julian says, letting go of the door and letting it slowly swing shut. “But if you want anything--”

“It’s alright,” Geralt says quickly. “I wasn’t expecting to stay in the first place, really. Thought it was going to be Arthur that would come see who’s at the gates.”

Julian brushes past him, close enough between the wall and a large cupboard that Geralt can feel the warmth of his shoulder where it touches his own. 

“Ah, well,” he smiles, running the tips of his fingers over the polished surface of a long dining table on his way back to the hallway. “He would, usually, but Asra and Lucio are both trained to inform me when there is someone at the gates that I already know. I prefer to meet guests myself.”

Geralt follows his lead without a word, making his way through the labyrinth of rooms all the way into the library, which now feels familiar in the enormous house. The wide table by one of the windows is covered in pieces of parchment, perfect lines of runes written on them in ink. The structure of them looks like poems or songs but Geralt doesn’t want to be caught looking, so he averts his eyes before he can read anything. 

In some strange way, it’s almost comforting, being here now. The first night he came across the mansion the library seemed too big and too dark, illuminated by nothing but the fireplace, but now, filled with sunlight streaming in through the large windows, it’s almost something that Geralt could get used to. 

For what seems like the thousandth time in the last month, Geralt thinks back on the feeling of Julian’s warm fingers on his skin, stitching up with wounds with practised ease.  

“How is your shoulder?” Julian asks, as if reading his thoughts.

He settles down into his armchair, indicating to an identical one next to it with an incline of his head. Geralt hesitates for a moment but then sits down, setting his swords aside. 

“It’s healed,” he says, reaching his hand out unconsciously to touch it to his shoulder, the thin scars left from the wounds hidden under the leather of his armour. “With my regeneration, the scars will be barely visible in a few months.”

Julian smiles, pleased with what he hears, and nods. 

“I was a little nervous, patching you up,” he confesses, and there’s a hint of blush that creeps over his cheeks. “The only times I usually need that skill is when one of my gardeners or one of the ladies from the kitchen cut themselves on accident, and need help. And, well, I needed it a couple of times with Aiden and his inability to keep himself out of trouble. But you’re rather--”

He falters, the colour of his cheeks growing a deeper red. Geralt doesn’t interrupt him, intrigued. 

“You’re rather-- built, you know,” Julian says finally, his gaze slipping over Geralt’s broad shoulders. “More than Aiden, he’s closer to my body type. And certainly more than the ladies.”

He laughs, shaking his head. 

“Forgive me,” he says. “It’s inappropriate of me.”

What is this, Geralt thinks, The Cintrian court?

“You had me half-naked in this very chair half an hour after meeting me last time, and now it’s inappropriate to talk about my physique?” he asks, teasing.

The tension slowly bleeds away from his shoulders, just like it did that morning in the arbour, and he feels himself relax, let go of his constant self-control, at least a little. 

“It’s not like I was looking,” Julian objects, defending himself with a glint in his eyes. “I’ll let you know that I’m a very responsible man and I was only focused on the task at hand.”

Geralt knows it. He knows that Julian didn’t look. Remembers the way it twisted something deep inside him, for the first time. But backing down now would’ve been a horrible omission. 

“Of course,” he says, raising his hand in a mock-conciliatory gesture. “Very focused on me and my built shoulders.”

He expects Julian to keep his own line of argument, but the younger man just narrows his eyes at him slightly like he’s testing him, and smiles charmingly.

“Well,” he murmurs. “If that’s what you want to believe.”

Oh, that is not something Eskel or Lambert are ever going to let him forget if he chooses to tell them. Getting beaten at his own game, what an event to remind him of for the rest of his life. He can already see Lambert’s shiteating grin that makes Geralt want to kill him every single time without fail. 

But Julian’s eyes sparkle an impossibly bright blue, and maybe it’s not that bad, after all.

Geralt raises his hands again, genuine this time. 

“Alright, alright,” he says. “You win. All hail Julian the Victorious.” 

The younger man clasps his hands together and shakes them above his head in a gesture that Geralt has seen at tournaments. He expects some kind of a smug comment, since the victory is rather flawless, but instead, Julian says:

“You can call me Jaskier. Julian is really only a name that pretentious nobles and my employees use.”

Pretentious nobles, Geralt thinks and his mind suddenly snaps back to thinking that the man in front of him might very well be the prince of Redania, legitimate or not. 

“Jaskier,” he echoes, instead of asking any questions.

The younger man nods.

“In my first year in the Academy, we were supposed to come up with pseudonyms for ourselves for one of the subjects, and I chose Jaskier. I read it somewhere, I can’t even remember where exactly, but I’m pretty sure it means something like “buttercup” in one of the dialects spoken in Toussaint. It was just a pseudonym at first but by the end of the year, everyone including my professors were referring to me by that name alone, because I started using it everywhere.”

The Oxenfurt Academy, Geralt thinks, Would he be able to attend if he really was the king’s illegitimate son? Could they just hide it, so that no one knows who he really is? 

“What did you study in Oxenfurt?” he asks, trying to tell himself to stop thinking about it. 

Jaskier’s entire face lights up, like he’d been waiting for that question. 

“The seven liberal arts,” he says, nodding towards a framed diploma above the parchment-lined desk. “We weren’t obliged to study all of them but I wanted to try a little bit of everything. However, it was music that captured my heart, almost immediately. I loved astronomy, too, but not nearly as much.”

“Astronomy with professor Linderbrog?” Geralt enquiers.

Jaskier nods.

“I’ve been to a couple of his lectures,” the witcher says. “He’s rather… popular with the ladies on the course, isn’t he?”

The younger man snorts, covering his lips with the back of his hand. 

“Yeah,” he laughs. “Yeah, he is. I honestly don’t know what they see in him, he’s like fifty-five. But like half the Academy was dying over him and his beard. It’s still beyond me how it’s still dark in the middle but grey on the sides.”

Geralt notices a quick little look Jaskier darts at his hair and averts his eyes, letting it linger for a moment longer. And the question in the younger man’s eyes is so obvious that Geralt can’t help but answer before it’s even spoken:

“Yes, when I grow a beard, it’s also white.”

There’s a momentary, fleeting confusion that slithers over Jaskier’s face but a second later, his cheek flush with colour.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I wasn’t staring, I just-- didn’t know how to ask.”

Geralt chuckles, letting his shoulders fully relax as he settles into the armchair more comfortably. His armour is still restraining but he’s not sure what it’s going to look like to Jaskier if he just starts undoing the buckles, so he brushes the thought aside. 

“I’ve lost pigmentation after the Trials,” he says, and it feels almost liberating to know that he doesn’t have to explain, that Jaskier knows enough about witchers to know what the Trials are. “My hair turned white and my skin got much more pale than before. My tutors thought that it’s temporary, that the hair will just grow out, but it’s been very long now and, as you can see, it’s still white.” 

Jaskier gives him another look, more tentative. 

“You’re not doing yourself justice,” he finally says. “My dogs are white. And your hair is silver.”

Geralt rolls his eyes in mock-exasperation. 

“Alright,” he nods. “If that’s what you say.”

***

Time goes by fast. 

Jaskier tells Geralt about his years at the Academy, asks a few careful questions about the witcher’s own training, and somewhere in the middle of the conversation Geralt suddenly realises that he can’t remember the last time he talked so much to anyone other than his brothers. 

When Arthur appears in the room to call them for lunch, Geralt knows that it’s been an hour or two, but it feels like minutes. 

The dining table is enormous, and though there are only eighteen chairs set around it, it could probably fit twice that amount of people. Jaskier offers Geralt to choose a seat with a wide move of his arm, and, after some hesitation, the witcher chooses the end of the table opposite to the door. 

Jaskier takes his place at the head of the table and Geralt, trying desperately to remember court rules, finally takes a place to his right. 

There is a large painting of a hunting scene next to the table and Geralt asks Jaskier about it, even though there isn’t much that he understands about art. Usually, he wouldn't ask about something he doesn’t know because he’d had people looking down at him for that one too many times, but Jaskier wasn’t like that. He explained things to the witcher in a way that made him want to listen, a way that didn’t draw a line between them. 

He told Geralt about the painting in the dining room and about some of the other ones that he’s got in the mansion. Overall, he said, he’s got about a hundred. Some of them are bought, some of them are gifted, some of them - though only a few - he painted himself. 

“You paint?” Geralt asked then, taking another sip of what might be the best wine he’s ever had.

Jaskier shrugs with one shoulder. 

“We were obliged to take two additional courses in the Academy,” he says. “Mine were Elder Speech and fine art. Of course, I’m no van Rogh, nor am I de Varvari, but I do enjoy it.”

Somewhere under the table, Asra and Lucio poke their cold noses at Geralt’s knees every now and then, and it’s still completely beyond him how the dogs manage to appear wherever Jaskier goes. 

“Didn’t we leave them outside?” Geralt finally asks when Jaskier clicks his tongue to get the dog’s attention and feed them a few pieces of meat from his plate. 

“We did,” the younger man nods. “But they have their ways. I’ve had them for a little over four years now and anywhere I go, they follow. Even if it feels like they materialise out of thin air.”

Materialise out of thin air, Geralt thinks and concentrates just a little, listening to his senses and trying to figure out if there’s magic involved in this. He does feel the pull of it somewhere deep in his chest, has been ever since he crossed the gates, but if it really were the dogs, it would grow much stronger with them near. 

It was probably nothing. Maybe an artifact or two.

It was probably nothing.

[ikeromantic]

Ikemen vampire theo x mc where theo and MC become parents and theo has to take care of the baby for a day by himself? LOL if it’s to hard u don’t gotta do it idk if I requested this before lol

Day 26 of Ikemektober!

I haven’t read all of Theo’s route yet, so I don’t know how accurate to character this is - but I hope you enjoy ^_^  Approx. 1800 words of baby filled fluffiness for the ask.

Theo snuggled to his precious hondje despite the insistent sunlight streaming in the windows. She was soft and warm, and it felt good to have her nestled against his chest. If fate allowed, he might have stayed right where he was until Sebas announced lunch. But late morning weren’t for parents.

As if on cue, the twins began to cry. Anna was breathy and quiet, but her sister Akari made up for that in spades. Her cry was demanding and loud, and there was no way to ignore it. Not even for five more minutes in bed with his lovely wife. 

She sat up and rubbed her eyes. “Oh - oh, my babies. I’m coming, coming . . .”

Theodorus watched her stumbled from the room, half asleep. She was exhausted since they’d had the twins. It was a lot of work, even with helpful uncles in the manor. 

He watched her shuffle back from the nursery, a baby in each arm. They had their mother’s dark, straight hair and their daddy’s big blue eyes. A deadly combination. Theo scooped Akari up and bounced her in his arms. She stopped crying as soon as he held her. 

“Ah, papa has the magic touch, hm?” His wife smiled at him. “I don’t think they’re even hungry. They just wanted company.” Anna was settled too, happy to be held. The four of them ended up laid out in bed, the two babies in the middle with their mom and dad on the sides. 

Hondje was falling asleep already, with long, slow blinks. Theo felt bad for her shouldering so much of the work with the babies. He wanted to help out - he just wasn’t sure what one did with a baby. They were terribly fragile things. 

As if to illustrate his point, Akari wrapped her tiny hand around his finger and started chewing on it. Her mouth was small and pink and it tickled a little. 

“Trying to eat me up, eh?” He laughed quietly. Maybe he could try to give his beauty a break today. Let her sleep in, take a long hot bath, eat pancakes in blessed silence . . . all things neither of them had done since the babies were born.

All he had to do was take care of these two feisty little ones for a few hours. Surely . . . surely that couldn’t be too hard. 

Theo slipped out of bed, silent as a cat. He carefully lifted Anna and Akari and took them for a chat with Vincent.

“So what I want to do is take care of them all today - but, what do you do with a baby, broer?”

Vincent tickled Anna’s tummy, fascinated by her smiles. He didn’t look up as he replied. “Well, if you want her to have peace and quiet, you should take them out someplace.”

“Like a gallery or a cafe?” Theo tried to imagine it. All he could picture was Akari and Anna trying to eat random items and crying a lot. 

“No. Someplace they can just . . . be babies. Maybe take them for a picnic?” Vincent finally looked up. 

“A baby picnic? I guess that could work.” They would stay on the blanket, safe and sound, and well out of their mother’s hair. 

“Perfect. Why don’t you get them dressed and I’ll meet you out front with some picnic supplies.” Vincent smiled widely.

“Are you coming with us?”

“Of course! I can’t miss a chance to dote on my sweet nieces.” 

Theo carried the babies out. At eight months, they were getting a little heavy but they were still too small to walk. He didn’t mind the weight but he wished they wouldn’t wiggle a kick so much.

It took Theodorus almost an hour to get the little ones bundled up for an autumn day. Long sleeve dresses and little warm leggings courtesy many shopping trips with Comte, mittens and boots from Arthur and Dazai, and a red scarf for Akari, and a yellow one for Anna. He topped it off with little knit caps shaped like an apple and a pumpkin. The hats and scarves were handmade by Sebas. He’d taken to knitting cute accessories for the girls in his spare time, and seemed to really enjoy seeing the twins wear his creations.

“Why do my babies look like they’re part of a harvest festival?”

Theo turned to see his beauty in the doorway, making puppy eyes at him. “Mijn knabbel, I was going to surprise you with a day to yourself.” He felt ridiculous having to tell her about it. Couldn’t she see what he was doing? 

She crossed the room and put a kiss on his cheek before he could say anything else. “Thank you, love.” 

The look in her eye made him go warm inside, like a summer breeze. It reminded him of all the reasons he loved her. “Just go back to bed, hondje. You look tired.”

“Mmm, I will. I want to be rested up when you get back.”

“Oh?” And now Theo knew he had something to look forward to. He gave her a quick goodbye kiss and took the squirming babies to the front entry.

Vincent was waiting for him with a double carriage for the babies and a big basket of goodies. He also had a blanket for the ground, a spare one for the babies in case they were cold. “Are you ready to go?”

“I think so. They’re dressed and wiggly.” Theo laughed, setting the babies in the carriage. He looked at the basket on his brother’s arm. “Did you bring something for them to eat?”

“I did. Sebas made up a special pancake and berry blend and put it in little jars. They will love it.” Vincent grinned. “I’m hoping to sketch them today. They are almost a year old and I haven’t managed to get a single good painting of either of them.”

“They move too much.” Theo gave the babies a mock stern look. “You have to hold still for mijn broer when he’s painting you.”

Anna and Akari gurgled at him in response, completely unrepentant. 

The brothers took the babies out to Vincent’s favorite flower meadow. They laid the blanket under a tree and set the babies down on it. Anna sat where her papa put her, but Akari pushed herself up on all-fours and wobbled toward a pile of fallen leaves. 

Theo scooped her up just before she got there. “Think you can escape little one?”

She started to cry, an angry, helpless sound. 

Vincent put his hands to his ears. “Can’t you let her play in the leaves? It wouldn’t hurt anything. We used to play in leaf piles all the time.”

“Yes but -” Theo wasn’t sure how to put it into words. It was different when it was your baby. You worried more. About all kinds of things. Still, his brother was probably right. 

“Ok, ok,” he told Akari, and set her down on the blanket. She immediately stopped crying and went for the leaves again. “Just don’t eat them - please?” 

Vincent laughed. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you plead like that. Being a father has changed you.” 

Theo shrugged. His brother was right, but he didn’t want to admit it. The two of them watched the babies crawl over and under the leaves, picking up the bright red and yellow ones to stare at them in wonder. And occasionally gnaw at them with their little slobbery mouths. 

Gloves, hats, scarves, and booties disappeared through playtime, replaced by dirt and dead leaves. A different sort of fall costume, Theo mused. 

Vincent managed a few quick sketches, but the girls made it hard to catch them in any pose. They had so much energy and everything fascinated them.

Eventually they got tired and let their papa and uncle feed them. Then promptly fell asleep in the baby carriage. 

“I guess that’s our cue to head home,” Vincent sighed. 

Theo nodded and stood up to gather the scattered picnic items. He found the two hats, and the mittens and boots, but the scarves were gone. He tore through the leaf pile and checked under the picnic blanket. They weren’t there. Or in the baby carriage. Or in the basket.

“What’s wrong,” Vincent asked. “Did you drop something?”

“No. Godverdomme. I can’t find the girls’ scarves. They have to be here someplace.” 

“The ones Sebas just gave them to wear for winter?”

“Yes, those.” He shot his brother a look of annoyance that faded the second it landed. It was impossible to be annoyed with Vincent. “Can you help me look for them?”

“I will. I’d hate to see Sebastian’s face if we had to tell him we lost them.”

“Thanks, broer. Helpful.”

“Don’t worry Theo. We’ll find them.” Vincent gave his angelic smile and the two of them tore through the picnic site again. Still no scarves. 

Theo knew they needed to get back soon, but he didn’t want to give up. That just wasn’t his style. “Did you check the grass, Vince?”

“Yes, and I went through the leaf pile again. Lots of red and yellow, nothing knit.”

“And the picnic basket?”

Vincent sighed. “We both looked through it. Unless Akari and Anna managed to stick them in the jam jars, the scarves aren’t in there either.”

Theo popped open the basket and checked the jam jars just in case. With the babies, you could never be sure.

“I think we’ll just have to admit we lost them, Theo. I’m sure Sebas will be alright. The twins got to where them out once at least.”

“Yeah.” Theodorus felt a sudden wave of exhaustion. It had been a very nice day but the ending spoilt it all. 

He and Vincent pushed the baby carriage back to the manor in low spirits. Anna and Akari slept through the whole drama, unaware of the importance of their missing scarves.

Sebastian met them at the door, all smiles. “Did you have a nice day out? Did the girls like their pancakes?” He leaned down to look at the snoozing pups. His smile faltered. “Ah, still not cold enough weather for a scarf?”

Vincent looked over at Theo.

It would be easy to lie right now. Say that’s right, and then the scarves could go missing without it being his fault. But Theodorus wasn’t one to shirk responsibility. Sometimes you had to man up. Admit your faults. He shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels, as he considered how best to break the news.

His fingers brushed something wooly and soft. His eyes widened.

“What is it, broer?”

Theo tugged the soft fluff from his pocket. A scarf. Yellow. And in the other pocket, one red. He grinned at Sebas. “Nah, they took them off while they were playing. I stuck them in my pockets for safe keeping.”

Vincent laughed, relieved. “I wish you could have seen them, Sebastian. They were so cute.”

Sebas smiled. “Well, I’ll have to wait for your next outing.” He gestured upstairs. “I believe your lady is waiting for you?”

Theo grinned. 

Vincent nudged his arm. “Don’t worry, Sebas and I will babysit the rest of tonight.”

He didn’t need anymore encouragement. He bounded upstairs, eager to show the mother of his children how much he appreciated her.

[jamieatthebarricade]

Maids to Wives // Chapter 3

An Outlander AU based loosely on the TV Show and real life in the historic Jamestown

In 1619, one hundred and forty-four English women from good families crossed the Atlantic in response to the Virginia Company of London’s call for maids “young and corrupt” to make wives for the planters of it’s new colony in Virginia. One in six of the maids could even claim gentry status. Although promised a free choice of husband, they were in effect being traded into marriage for a bride price of 150 pounds of best leaf tobacco, the profits to flow to individual investors

In 1619, Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp made the voyage to do one thing: marry a man she's never met. But when she arrives, she comes to the startling realization that her heart belongs to someone else, a certain James Alexander Malcolm Mackenzie Fraser.

Find Maids to Wives on Archive of Our Own!

Chapter 3 : Maids to Wives

“Did my heart love till now? forswear it, sight! For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night.”

- William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet

May 16th, 1619, Claire’s POV

The air was crisper in the new world, that was the first thing I noticed. The smell of soft pinewood, salt water, and fresh bodies filled my nose. Around me was open air, no tall buildings or hundreds of people in sight. I don’t remember the air being this clean since I traveled with my uncle.

While the air was clearer, there was also a thick fog of tension within the ship. Since seeing land, many of us women had realized how drastic our lives would change in less than a few hours. Either a woman would meet the love of her life, or she would enter a life of hell. I silently hoped for the first option. It was a new day, and we were nearly to the mainland. ‘You should tidy up’ my brain told me, as I looked around trying to find any reflective surface Managing to borrow a small piece of glass from another woman, my reflection stared back at me. Small bits of hair were falling out of my neat bun I had tried to make earlier in the day. The sailors wouldn’t let us use the water for washing up and such, so I wasn’t doubtful I didn’t smell all that good. I decided to use my remaining water ration to quickly wet my underarms as a sort of rugged wash. I smelt myself quick and didn’t find any odar too terrible. 

Looking into my reflection, I smiled. The curls around my face sprang out like a lion's mane, and thankfully to the sun, my face had a bit of color to it. I was no longer the ghostly pale my uncle lamb used to describe me as. He would call me a ghost, depending on where we were and how much sunlight I got. Around me, other ladies were trying to freshen themselves up as much as they could. Geillis had managed to braid a few strands in her long auburn hair. Mary also used some drinking water to give her hair a quick rinse. We all checked each other and were happy with what we were seeing.

“Are ye ready, Claire?” Geillis smiled at me. In truth I didn’t know if I was ready, but there was no turning back from it now. Weeks of waiting and daydreaming were finally coming true today. I was just happy to be on land, a different land, and start this adventure. “I hope my husband is tall. And fit. And has a nice arse” I threw my rag at Geillis in a joking matter. She rarely held back when it came to matters such as female sexuality. Geillis was truly an open book.

At the mention of arse, Mary flushed a nice shade of ruby. “You shouldn’t be mentioning such things!” She whispered softly under her breath, just loud enough for me and Geillis to hear. Geillis in turn laughed and placed a loving arm around Mary’s shoulders.

“If ye think arse is bad, what do ye think happens on the wedding night?” Mary’s face managed to blush an even deeper shade of red, and she quickly hurried into the line for disembarking the ship. Geillis laughed as she ran away, smiling contentedly to herself. 

“That lass is gonna have an interesting time with her new husband” Geillis and me walked over to where the rest of the women were waiting, including Mary. As Geillis looked on I stared out to the land. Grass was much greener than I remembered, and the sky seemed to shine a brighter shade of blue. It was like stepping through a portal into a strange new world, which is strangely what this is. I’m a stranger in a new world who wasn’t awaiting my arrival. Fear tug at my heart at the possibility of something happening. What if there wasn’t enough food? What if we were attacked by a new settlement? I suddenly felt exposed to danger, and subconsciously wrapped my cloak around my body, like a shield.

‘Whatever happens’ I thought. ‘At least I have Geillis and Mary here’. I was fortunate and grateful to have made such great friends on the voyage. Sure, I was expected to be a new wife, but who knew if a man could fill a hole of loneliness and want for a friendship. If something were to happen and I couldn’t tell my spouse, I knew that Geillis and Mary would be there for me.

“Claire, are ye alright? Ye starin’ at nothing,” Geillis gave me a gentle tap on my shoulder, breaking me from my thought haze. They already started carting women off the ship, and Me and Geillis were next in line. The shouts of multiple crewmen filled my ear, and I heard a man shouting the names of both women and the men who would marry them. 

Me and Geillis made our way onto the long boardwalk, and as we were half way, we heard Mary’s name being called.

“Mary Hawkins, Alex Randall,” A short but handsome young man emerged from the crowd. He looked no older than Mary, and his eyes lit up when he saw her. Anxiously, he walked over to her and held out a hand. I could see the blush from her cheeks as they walked away. ‘They’re going to make a wonderful marriage’.

I smiled internally at the sight of them. It was like seeing a sister finding the love of her life, I had nothing but joy for the 2 of them. I scanned the audience. There were men of all different ages and backgrounds. Tall men, short men. Young men, and old men. Most of the young men were reasonably handsome, handsome enough to tolerate. Many of them looked unwashed, which I figured would be the case as most men typically didn’t care that much about hygiene, which was an unfortunate trait.

When we got down to the land, the minute I put my foot down I felt a sense of calm wash over me. Whatever would happen, I’m here now. The feeling of knowing I couldn’t leave, even if I tried, gave me a sense of home oddly enough.

Geillis stood in front of men, waiting behind 2 more women. Slowly their names were called and met with their respective husbands.

“Suzette Augustin, Murtagh Fraser,” Suzette was french, that was one of the only things I knew about her. She was pretty, with very long black hair and a sweet smile, which lit up brightly as Murtagh stepped from the crowd. He was among the tallest of the group, wearing a tartan wrapped around his middle. His face was dark and aged, but he was still very handsome. Suzette definitely thought so, taking his hand politely, but I could see the excitement bouncing off of her.

They were down to the last person before Geillis. All of a sudden, the nerves came rushing back. I would be meeting my future husband in less than 5 minutes. What if he doesn’t like me? What if I don’t like him? I felt the sudden urge to run and hide from all of this, and I looked around quickly for a route (as if I actually had the nerve to run), when suddenly my eyes met with a man. 

He was probably the tallest, leaving me to wonder why I didn’t notice him before as he stood at least a few inches above the other men. His hair was bright ginger and slightly tostled. When I looked at him, all worries and troubles melted away. ‘Did he see the fear in my eyes?’ I wondered. I thought he would look away or turn his attention to one of the other women but his gaze stared at me. Suddenly the urge to run was gone, as if he was holding me by the shoulders. I felt peaceful, like this whole situation wasn’t that bad. 

Our connection was only broken when I felt a nudge behind me, indicating that I had to move forward. I did, but tried to keep my eyes on him a little longer. I didn’t even know his name, yet he was a familiar face in a sea of strangers. I tried to chase that feeling of serenity in his face just a minute longer.

He seemed like he was following me too, his head turning with my step. ‘Did he feel this same serenity?’ Maybe he was getting a bride today, and was just if not more nervous than I was. Deep down a part of me hoped I was to be the bride, but I tried to shake that thought quickly. I didn’t even know this man, I didn’t need to want him this bad.

I turned my head quickly forward, hoping that he didn’t find the action malicious. Even standing forward I still felt his eyes on me, and tried my best to keep my gaze ahead. Geillis and then me, and Geillis was already telling her name to the man.

“Geillis Edgars, Arthur Duncan” A short, stout man emerged from the crowd. He was at least 20 years her senior, and about 5 inches below her. As I saw Geillis’ face drop, I concealed my hand and tried to reach out for Geillis, but Arthur was already by her side, taking her hand lovingly. She took it hesitantly, and as they walked away, Geillis turned back and gave me a sad look. ‘I needed to see her later’.

“What’s your name?” a thick british accent said in front of me. My attention turned and I saw a man, maybe in his late 40s, and a big book in front of him.

“Claire Beuachamp,” I stammered, trying to keep my voice stable as best I could. I wanted to look into the crowd and find that man again. So far, his gaze was the only thing that brought me peace.

“Claire Beauchamp, Frank Randall” the man shouted. I looked out into the crowd, and the ginger man’s face dropped. It wasn’t the same calming look as before. Was he Frank Randall? Perhaps I mistook our connection before. 

Thankfully, another man emerged behind him. He was around my height and a deep, dark face. His hair was a nice brown, and he seemed to be balding but it didn’t age him any bit. He stood in front of me, and took my right hand, giving it a soft kiss on top. His hands were warm, and gave me a sense of hope. ‘I could build a life with this man’ I thought happily, smiling to him, which caused his face to light up as well. 

We walked away from the ship, right towards the ginger man. As we walked towards him, his gaze fell on me again, but this time it wasn’t a calm feeling that came over me. It was more of a flutter, like I was tongue tied without even talking to him. When we passed him, my shoulder brushed him softly. I quickly turned, causing Frank to stop in his path.

“I’m sorry,” I apologized. He opened his mouth to answer but I felt a tug on my hand and before I knew it, our interaction was over. I looked over to Frank, and his kind face from before was changed to slight frustration.

Turning back once more, I caught his eye for only a second, yet I found so much solace in his face. It wasn’t love like you read about in stories, but it was understanding, and for some that’s a start. 

This time he was the one to look away, but quite hesitantly. My gaze shifted as well and and all of a sudden I wondered if I was making the right choice. I hadn’t even met both men yet, but the ginger man looked at me as if he was wrapping himself around me like a blanket, shielding me from any worries to come. I looked back at frank and didn’t find that same warmness. 

Instead, the feeling of fear and the want to run came back, but this time, I didn’t want to leave. I didn’t want to go back home or back to my friends. I wanted to find out what that man’s name was.

[msmarvelouswinchester]

Love In Sin

Chapter 5

Summary - Special Agent Winchester is forced to go undercover with his frenemy Special Agent L/N when they try to track down a notorious drug dealer. How will Y/N and Dean complete their task? Will their relationship worsen or will new feelings emerge between them?

Pairing -AU Detective!Dean Winchester x Reader

Series Warnings - Angst, Slow burn, Fluff, Implied Smut, Mentions of crime and drug, Swearing.

Chapter Warnings - Slow burn, Swearing

Word Count - 2.3k (this is probably the longest chapter in the series)

A/N - I was supposed to post this in two parts but here ya go folks!

Beta'd by the amazing @deanwanddamons (she is awesome)

The dividers by the talented @talesmaniac89

Series Masterlist

“I'm never organising a party again! I am exhausted!” you exclaimed sitting on the floor.

Dean let out a low whistle as he looked around the room full of streamers. He had been out to do the grocery shopping in the meantime. He came back with a bunch of food items and pie. That man really loved his pie.

“I knew you worked better with food in your system” he laughed.

“Shut up!” you grumbled, “we need to go and meet the neighbours now. Let them know about our party.”

“Now?” Dean raised an eyebrow at you.

“Dean, the party is tomorrow.”

“Why can't I get some alone time with my wife?” He pouted.

“What?”

“You know we haven't christened the bedroom yet,” he wiggled his brows, making you roll your eyes.

“Don't you think you are taking this undercover a bit too seriously?” Raising your finger, you poke his chest. He immediately grabbed your hand, pulling you close.

“I like roleplay,” he smirked. You jerked your handout of his grip and glared at him.

“Okay, okay. Let's go.”

You got up and went to your room to get changed into something better than the pants and oversized t-shirt you were wearing.

“Where ya goin’?” Dean asked, following you into the room.

“Get out, Winchester. I need to change,” you said and pushed him out of the room.

“You know I am your hus-” He started saying in a cocky tone, but was cut off by you yelling ‘Shut up’ to him.

You changed into jeans and a flannel and finally came out of your room.

“You look great.”

“Thanks,” you said blushing slightly. Can this man just stop complimenting you every now and then?

You and Dean approached the first house which was apparently Castiel’s .

You rang the doorbell and waited for someone to open the door.

“Yes?” A young boy of around twenty opened the door..

“Hey, is Castiel there?” you asked.

“Dad? Yeah sure. Wait here. Let me get him,” the boy said and went back inside the house, leaving you standing in front of the door which he had closed with a slam.

“Who's ask-oh hey! The Campbells right? That was my son, Jack. Come on in,” Cas said and gestured at you to follow him.

You went inside the house and took a seat on the couch. Castiel's house was beautiful. It was full of antique collections. There were also beautiful antique portraits on the wall.

“Hey! Cas told me you guys moved in here today. I'm Meg,” The woman greeted you both, and took a seat on another couch in front of you.

“Hey. Nice to meet you. I'm Y/N and he's Dean. You have a really beautiful house.”

“Thank you. It's all because of Cas. He loves to collect antique pieces and now our house looks like a museum. You just got married right? That's a really beautiful ring,” Meg said, glancing at the ring on your hand.

“Thank you but it was actually his choice,” you said looking at Dean, “so he deserves all the credit.”

“You two make a cute couple,” Meg grinned. You blushed at her words and nervously tucked your hair behind your ears.

“Thanks. We are actually here to invite you and Cas to our housewarming party. Tomorrow at seven,” Dean said.

“Oh we will be there, for sure!” Cas smiled.

“Awesome. So, as we are new here, can you tell us anything about the other neighbours?” Dean asked, hoping to get some information out of Meg and Cas.

“We have been living in this area for almost two years now. It may come off as a beautiful neighbourhood but actually it's the worst. No one talks to anyone and some of the neighbours are downright rude,” Meg said, clearly annoyed by her neighbours.

“Really?”

“Yes. There is Rowena. She lives two houses down from us. She is extremely sophisticated, she is the CEO of the company called Herbs and Magic.It's a company which produces organic skin care products,” Meg said. She definitely had a lot of information about the people living in the area.

“So, she is like the queen bitch,” you joked.

“No. Actually she is kind of polite. The queen bitch is Amara. She lives with her brother Chuck . I think you may know Amara. She worked on “Love in Sin” and a bunch of other films.”

“Yeah, I have heard of that film, not that I have watched it. This neighbourhood is really one of a kind,” you chuckled.

“Tell me about it,” Cas laughed along with you, “I don't know why Meg loves this neighbourhood so much. All the people who live here are assholes.”

“Hey! Not all of them. There is Mick Davies and Arthur Ketch - they seem like nice people and you know why I chose this place. It's easier to get to work from here.”

“Well Mick and Arthur haven't talked to us at all,” Cas rolled his eyes.

“Where do you work?” You asked.

“I work at Chuck's company.” You shared a look with Dean.

“Chuck Shurley? The producer of the film Love in Sin?"

“Yeah that and he is like the God of the business industry!” Meg exclaimed, "You know about the Carver Industries which deals with automobile manufactures?"

“Uh-yeah, of course we have heard of him,” Dean said, "Rich neighbourhood!"

“Anyways, thank you so much Meg. We have wasted a lot of your precious time. We should go now. We have others to invite too,” you said and got up from the couch.

“It was so nice to talk to you. Let's meet up some other time. You know, just a girl's day out,” Meg said.

“Definitely! I love to have a girl's day out with you,” you said and Meg pulled you in a hug.

“And they are already making plans,” Dean joked, making Cas laugh out loud.

You and Dean left the Novak household and went to invite the other neighbours - all of them definitely lived up to their reputation.

“Well, that was interesting. The Novaks don't seem like someone to be the right hand person of Crowley. Rowena is the CEO of a company - why would she need to be partnered up with a drug dealer? And the Shurley’s? How did the bureau forget to mention such an important detail?” You asked.

You had ordered a pizza because you neither had the energy nor the will to cook.

Dean hummed at your words and bit into a slice of pizza. “We need to keep a close eye on all of them. The Shurleys are our top priority.”

“Yup,” you said and noticed Dean typing on his phone after he was done eating.

“I have briefed Mr. Singer about today's incidents. Let's call it a night. We have to be on our toes the whole day tomorrow,” Dean said, making you nod in agreement.

Your eyes trailed up his body as he stretched his hands, his biceps flexing under the thin material of his unbuttoned flannel. You continued to stare as he yawned and shook his head.

“Like what you see, sweetheart?” Dean said, a stupid smirk on his face. Your heart fluttered in your chest as you blushed at him - this man was surely doing things to you.

“Shut up,” you grumbled and left to go back to your room.

“Night!” You heard Dean call out to you.

“Night,” you replied to him.

You woke up in the morning to find an arm draped over your stomach. You froze when you realised it was Dean's arm. What was he doing in your bed? You remember clearly you went to bed alone in your own fucking room.

Dean was still asleep. He was spooning you from behind, his hot breath fanning against your bare skin which was not covered by your tank top. Goosebumps erupted on your skin. So he was a cuddler - no that's not the important thing now. Why was he in your bed?

You tried to remove his arm from your stomach and started to stir beside you.

“Hey, morning,” Dean said in a gruff voice. You looked back and saw him greeting you with his eyes closed. Damn that son of bitch for looking like a model from one of the fashion magazines in the morning whereas you looked like you had just fought a war.

“Morning. What are you doing in my bed?”

“You don't remember?” Dean asked, finally opening up his eyes - he really did have beautiful eyes.

“Nope,” you said, popping the ‘p’.

“So all that effort went to waste? Awesome,” Dean groaned and rolled to the other side of the bed.

“What happened Dean Winchester?” You narrowed your eyes at him.

“You had a nightmare. I woke up to hear you yelling and then your gorgeous mouth started saying my name. I tried to wake you up but you had turned into a sleeping beauty and I was too tired to kiss you awake so I climbed into the bed with you and voila! You calmed down and I think I fell asleep here,” Dean shrugged.

You observed him for a moment. He was straight up lying to you. If you had a nightmare that bad you would have remembered it. Why was he lying to you or maybe you really didn't remember? You wanted to ask him, but instead decided to drop the subject.

“Well then thanks. My nightmares are pretty intense,” you played along, “ready for today?”

Dean nodded and got out of your bed but stopped at the doorway and turned towards you.

“If you want to talk to me about your nightmares, I'm here for you, sweetheart,” he gave you a small smile.

You both got freshened up and Dean offered to cook you breakfast. You came down to the kitchen after some time to find Dean setting a plate of homemade waffles on the table.

“Smells nice in here,” you said.

“It tastes even better,” Dean gloated.

“Okay smartass,” you mumbled and sat down at the table. You ate a piece of the waffle.

“God Dean, these are so good,” you moaned, “you are an amazing cook.”

“I know,” Dean chuckled when you kept moaning after eating every piece of the waffle. You looked up at Dean and saw the tips of his ears had turned bright red and he was shifting uncomfortably in his seat. You immediately became embarrassed when you realised what you were doing. Your face became hot with embarrassment.

Dean cleared his throat and got up from his chair.

“I am going to take a shower,” he said.

“But you didn't eat your waffles.”

“I-uh,” he cleared his throat once again, “I'll eat those later.” Dean left the room in a hurry. You kept eating your breakfast in silence and decided to take a shower and get ready for the day after you were done with your food.

You went up to your room and grabbed a pair of fresh pants and a sweatshirt. You made your way towards the bathroom but before you could go into the shower, you collided with Dean, falling ungraciously on your ass.

“Shit, sorry,” he said and extended his hands at you.

You looked up at Dean and swallowed hard. He was shirtless and only in a towel. He had just come out of the shower and his hair was still wet, tiny droplets of water lining his hair and chest. You grabbed his hand and he pulled you up to your feet.

“Sorry, fault’s all mine. I-” your eyes travelled down to his body. You saw him smirk a little. That cocky bastard.

“My eyes are up her L/N,” Dean said.

“I-I should go,” you said, picking your belongings up from the floor and going to the bathroom.

The rest of the day until the party started was uneventful. You lazed around the house, occasionally asking about each other's lives and discussing about the case. Dean said since he was ‘the best husband in the world’ - his words, not yours- he would cook for the guests and you agreed with him, knowing you were a terrible cook yourself.

It was almost an hour before the party started, so you decided to start dressing up for the party. You decided to keep it simple and also because you had one dress with you. You chose a navy blue cocktail dress and paired it with some blue earrings. You looked at yourself in the mirror and your attention went to the diamond ring on your finger. It was for a job, but it still felt weird to look at the ring.

“You ready?” Dean knocked on your bedroom door.

“Yeah.”

“People have started to co-” Dean's words got stuck in his throat as he let his eyes roam your body.

“You,” Dean cleared his throat, “you look beautiful sweetheart.”

“Thank you,” you bit your lip to stop the blush which was threatening to spread on your face, “I'm almost done.”

You gave the final touches to your makeup - you chose to go for a light makeup. You took your phone from the nightstand and stepped your foot out of the room but was immediately pulled back by Dean, turning you around so fast that you almost had whiplash.

“Sorry, didn't mean to surprise you,” Dean said, “we are newly married, we should be a little handsy - honeymoon phase, as they call it. Maybe we have to kiss when we are downstairs,” Dean reasoned.

“Okay,” you said, nodding your head.

You left the room, swaying your hips a little but you couldn't hear the groan that left Dean’s lips.

“Hey gorgeous! You look lovely,” Meg exclaimed and pulled you into a hug as soon as she saw you coming down the stairs. That girl was such a hugger.

“Thanks Meg. Right back at you.. Where's Cas?” You asked looking around the room.

“Looking for me?” Cas popped up behind you, startling you, “you guys got yourself a lovely home.”

“Thank you guys!”

“Hey! Sorry but can I borrow Y/N for a second?” Dean came down the stairs and asked your neighbours.

“Yeah sure, Campbell,” Cas said and you followed Dean into a secluded corner of the house.

Let me know if you want to be tagged in the series!

Feedback is appreciated!

[unholyplumpprincess]

Wind Down

Commission for someone who does not wish to be tagged.

Summary: The basic idea was that reader is a new contender in the arena while Miragehound are already a couple, they’re both poly and are Very interested in you being apart of their relationship. Whiiiiile ending with you getting super pampered sexually at the end!

Reblogs > Likes. It cost zero dollars to Reblog fics you like :D

Fandom: Apex Legends

Relationship: Mirage/Bloodhound/Reader

Warnings: R18+/NSFT, Reader has a vulva but they/them pronouns are used, Polyamory, polyamorous relationship, Bloodhound headcanons stated, it’s very fluffy sex?, only reader gets to cum tho bc they’re being spoiled, and uuuhhhh I think that’s it?

Words: 2.8K

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Everyone knew that Mirage and Bloodhound had some great chemistry in the arena. Whether that meant rivalry or working on a squad together was up to the person stating so. The illusion wielding trickster and the technological tracker were a duo to be feared when working alongside each other, and hell to keep away from each other on separate squads.

What the media didn’t know, was that the goofy and flirty legend was with the ever so regal hunter.

Behind closed doors they were in love, holding hands, kissing, making love, you name it. They were a couple, but a quiet couple. The only other people who knew were other legends, who were very good at keeping their own mouths shut.

Besides, why fret about what they did in the bedroom if people were watching only because they wanted to see the blood shed?

~Rest under the cut~

Elliott was Bloodhound’s moon, as far as they were concerned. And to him, they were his sun. They were a loving couple, easy around one another. Bloodhound being able to open up more with him than they had with anyone else. It had been a stroke of luck, on Elliott’s part, and the will of the Allfather, on Bloodhound’s part- that they ended up on the same planet. Let alone in the same space.

Bloodhound and Elliott had talked before about their partnership to one another. Elliott was bisexual, and Bloodhound wasn’t all too sure how they’d label their own sexuality besides that they liked who they liked. Yet, both had talked further about it. More on the question of monogamy. Both had come to the conclusion that an open relationship wasn’t quite right, even if Bloodhound encouraged his flirty behavior outside of just them. But rather, a more polyamorous look.

They just hadn’t found another person they enjoyed as much as one another.

Well, that is, until you entered the arena.

Much like falling in love does, neither expected it to happen. Bloodhound thought your skills in the arena were interesting for a newcomer, you seemed like you’d done this before. Yet, you cared more about your squad mates than your own victory. A heart of gold was hard to come by these days, especially in a game so dedicated to sponsors and getting money.

Elliott, ever quick to stop on the tips of his toes far too quick and fall heels-over-head, was the first to say something about you. A passing thought to his partner who had hummed in agreeance. You were very interesting, that much Bloodhound would admit to at first.

Yet, you worked your way up through the arena. Your kind heart winning the eyes of sponsors, and the legends alike. Elliott was more willing to become friends with you after one or two firefights with you, Bloodhound was a little more cautious. Toeing around the subject of even befriending you. Not that they were against it, they just knew Elliott was rather...strong about emotions.

And yet, you’d soon won the hunter’s heart soon after. You were just as kind in person as you were in the ring, funny too. They enjoyed how you and Elliott giggled together or how comfortable he looked around you. You brought even a smile to Bloodhound’s face that they couldn’t deny. A warmth they’d felt only in moments with Elliott.

Like you were home. Like you belonged there.

It’s almost natural how you move into their lives. Until a question is asked how you would feel sharing them. With Elliott holding one of your hands with hopeful eyes, fingers clasped with yours. And Bloodhound holding your other hand close to their heart with eyes hopeful, but understanding. They’d both been nothing but kind to you, perfectly sweet in their own respects. It was hard NOT to fall for either of them.

But, together? Two legends were a lot to handle.

You’d said yes, a big smile stretching onto your face as Elliott lunged and peppered your face in kisses. The push knocking you back into Bloodhound who held you. Kissing the top of your head warmly and murmuring their welcomes to you into their relationship.

Their family.

That was a few months ago. The thought of it still warming your heart. You three were all happy together, not one of your hands not held by either of them. You often enjoyed seeing them share kisses as well, with Bloodhound always having the lead. They kept that same aura with you, just something about them screaming Alpha of your little ‘pack’.

You playfully called them ‘puppy’ as an affectionate term when the thought struck you. Watching as their eyes flashed dangerously at you and they’d playfully snapped their teeth your direction. Yet now, it just stuck.

Elliott was like an enthusiastic child around the both of you. Excitedly having things to say or do, always wanting to go out or have days in. Even on days not all three of you could be together, it was still nice being with one or the other or knowing they had each other.  

Bloodhound was a little harder to get out of their shell. But, once you proved you could braid their hair and give the best scalp massages they were all for ripping their mask and helmet off upon seeing you. Often times they got pampered by both you and Elliott tag-teaming their curly, crimson mess. Elliott often chiding on how they should take better care of their beautiful hair while they hummed with delight at every stroke of a brush in their hair.

Elliott was pampered with kisses and attention. He always craved either you or Bloodhound to be snuggling with him. If you were with him, you normally were clambered into his lap at some point. While Bloodhound preferred lounging with Elliott’s head on their chest as they read a book. And either of you spoiling him with far too many kisses was one of his preferred ways of having a day off.

You often were treated to dinners made by either of them and being able to share a bed with one or both. Yet, both Elliott and Bloodhound were trying to figure out how else they could pamper you. Someway to get you to relax.

You didn’t ask for anything in return, you didn’t seem to have a preferred method of BEING spoiled, and you most certainly weren’t sharing any ideas about how they could spoil you. Or help you unwind for that matter.

Elliott brings it up to Bloodhound when it’s just the two of them, with you out of Elliott’s dorm and Bloodhound curled into his side. “Do ya’ think they’d want sex?” He says suddenly, causing them to choke out a laugh and kiss at his jawline softly.

“You are still on that? I am sure if they had any ideas, they would tell us.” They murmur in reply, stroking down over his shirt idly where it folds up over his abdomen.

“Yeah but- what if they’re too nervous to admit it? I-I-I mean- you've seen when we’re making out. They get really into it- I know you’ve felt it too, Hound.” Elliott is quick to nudge back at them, watching as Bloodhound’s eyes shift to the side. As if processing what he’s actually saying.

That made...sense. When Bloodhound would become bolder with you, a hand on your ass and pressing you to a wall to smother you in hot and heavy kisses. You never became shy or stopped them, yet they never proceeded further than that because they were waiting for explicit consent from you. Or even a breathed out ‘fuck me’.  

Anything.

With Elliott, he was similar. Letting you pull at his hair and leave hickeys, but he never asked for more. He just assumed you would jump on him when you were ready. So, when it came time for things to cool down, he could see you still eyeing his lips and seeming to hold back your own emotions.

Holding back-

They both share a look as if both coming to the same conclusion before they grab their respective phones to begin texting you of plans and questions.

--

The conversations you have with both of them wind up boiling down to sexual preferences. You burn at the ears in your own bed at the thought, but you can’t help it. You wanted to...well, fuck, you really did. But, with two people and the intimacy of it all, it also almost frightened you. Who would you touch? Would one of them feel like you were giving too much attention to the other? How would this go? You had so many questions.

The next morning you’re brought to Bloodhound’s dorm. It has little bits of home for them, plant life all around with many different skulls. Little shiny trinkets that Arthur and Muninn brought in resting on their shelves with many books. Candles were set out as well as lamps in each corner- something they explained was because of their eyes. Sensitive to the bright fluorescent lights overhead that were installed.

The entire day is spent with the both of them, once Elliott wakes up in time for lunch and comes over. It’s around night time, after dinner is cleaned up and you all can spend some down time together where you finally feel yourself wound up tight enough to burst.

Bloodhound is dressed down for the occasion, a tight black muscle tank that shows off their toned and curved body with black tactical pants still on. Their jacket and mask had been thrown elsewhere, hair braided down their back from you earlier.

Elliott was almost fully in his pajamas, ie being boxers, his shirt gone to reveal the gold piercings through each nipple and on his navel. Gray sweatpants hanging around his hips and his curls wet still from his shower.

You, on the other hand, lie back on Bloodhound’s bed. The furs and blankets all bundled up to one side as you sink into the sheets. You had been delicately stripped of your clothing, with much praise from either side of you. Your neck was already blossomed in little bruises from Bloodhound’s need to bite and claim every part of you. Your cheeks were rosy red, nipples peaked with arousal and the warm air around you doing no favors to how wet you are.

Elliott sits between your thighs as you hold your own hands nervously at your chest. Fitting your arms between your chest to interlock your own fingers, biting your lip as you watch him stroke at your bare thighs. Caressing you gently as he hooks them over his hips so he can lean over you. “Hey, hey, no need to be nervous.” His voice is shockingly stable for once, watching as your eyes nervously flick over to Bloodhound beside you.

Bloodhound was knelt at your side, a little out of the way and stroking your cheek fondly with their calloused fingertips. Their full lips quirk up softly, an encouraging smile as Elliott gently moves your arms to the side. Your eyes don’t leave Bloodhound’s, their eyes appearing to glow in the warm lighting of the lamp around you to the same fiery hue of their blinded eye.

On instinct, one hand goes to Elliott’s curls just as he leans down to part his lips and seal them over your nipple.

Your back arches, fingers twisting in his hair and eyes going half lidded as you gasp. Your own lips part, your other hand coming up to reach for Bloodhound just as they lean down. Letting you caress their cheek in turn as their lips meet yours from the side.

They swallow your whines with eagerness as they lick into your mouth. Letting you feel the roundness of the piercing on their tongue, the sharpness of their canines. Pleasure shoots down your spine when Elliott’s teeth gently sink down onto the rosy bud and your hips come up. Pressing into his clothed ones that he eagerly rolls into you in a grind.

Oh, you are positively helpless.  

Elliott’s hips grind into you slowly, you can feel the swell of his cock behind his pants with each grind against you. He’s almost humping into you desperately as he sucks on your nipple, parting from it to lick at it and letting you squirm under him. Having to part from your kiss with Bloodhound to let your head fall back with a heavy sigh.

Bloodhound wastes no time as they seem to move in tandem together. Their mouth latches to your pulse point, sucking more hickeys into your skin and sinking their canines into your flesh. Your hand that had been caressing their cheek fists as best as it can into their hair at the back of their skull, trying to drag them closer.

Elliott whines into your flesh as you scritch behind his ear. “Please- please let me taste you. Fuck- baby, I’ll make you feel so good, come on please, please, please-” He’s so whiny, breathing it out against your abdomen as he shifts downwards towards your heat. You almost don’t hear how Bloodhound laughs into your skin, but you sure do feel it.

“Eager,” They murmur against you, pulling back from your neck so you can look down at Elliott. Who is so helplessly nosing at your lower abdomen with hopeful chocolate brown eyes looking up at you like you’re everything. “Spread your legs, my love. Let him have you.” Bloodhound finishes, sitting up on their knees a bit so they can watch you.

You obey with shaky limbs, parting your thighs open and watch as Elliott sighs shakily against you with a breathed, “Thank you.” As he kisses you sloppily on your abdomen, kissing down and down. Over the mound of your sex to how your plump lips part for him. All he does is nuzzle you apart, tucking his arms under your thighs to spread you out further as he holds you and licks a wet, heavy stripe from hole to clit.

You can’t watch, your face burns and you turn your head with a cry of pleasure. But, Bloodhound’s fingers grip your chin, guiding you back to watch Elliott. “Do not look away, elskan. See how he worships you?” Their voice is as smooth as ever as you whimper in reply helplessly. You get to see just how Elliott eats you, tonguing over your hole and back to your clit like savoring a meal. His lips sealing over your clit to suckle and lick with a moan rumbling through his chest- like you’re delicious.

Like he’s been waiting for this moment.

Elliott’s eyes look up to you from under his lashes, parting his lips and backing off just a touch so he can pant over your wetness. His lips are glossy with your slick, slickness sticking to the stubble on his chin. His eyes look almost glazed over from how big his pupils are blown, letting you squirm as your eyes meet before he dives back in.

“Do you see how we worship you?” Bloodhound’s voice growls, gently letting go of your chin so they can rake their nails down your chest and abdomen to make you squirm. You sob out with pleasure when Elliott’s nails dig into your thighs just as he starts to get almost desperate to have you cum. Licking and nosing at you until your eyes are closing, head thrown back and moans spilling from you.

You vaguely make out teeth on your neck and chest. Your senses seeming to rapidly get heightened with every loud beat of your heart. You’re panting now, everything far too hot, too much, too sensitive-

When you cum, you have to reach for Bloodhound for support. They move their wicked mouth from your throat so they can nip and nibble at your ear lobe, breathing you praise for you. “So good, so good for us. There you go-” Sounding breathless themselves. Something you would be proud of later.

Your other hand holds firmly in Elliott’s curls, keeping him firmly pressed to your cunt as he sucks on your clit, nose pressed to your mound. Adoringly looking up at you with flushed red cheeks until you ease up on his hair enough for him to pull back. Panting for air as he presses wet, open mouthed kisses over your lower lips to make you tremble.

Exhausted, you let out a shaky, satisfied sigh. Briefly able to feel Elliott get up, hearing him wipe his mouth off before joining your other side. Tucking into you as one hand goes to his hair, trailing down to stroke at the nape of his neck and your other hand playing with Bloodhound’s hair in turn.

As you begin to relax, feeling yourself starting to breathe heavier, you gasp when you feel Bloodhound’s fingers trail down your hip to soon caress your mound. Their voice smooth as silk breathed into your ear, “Do not fall asleep so soon, sweet one. I have yet to have my turn.” While Elliott hums in approval, his cock pressed to your hip through his pants.

Oh, they’re both going to fucking kill you-

[arkaniist]

I wrote 2.5k words about Tolkien, WWI, Le Morte d’Arthur, the Iliad and Odyssey, and more, all bundled happily in an essay about queer subtext in the Lord of the Rings revolving around the relationship between Sam and Frodo. I posted about this before, and someone asked me to post the essay, so here it is!

Homoerotic Subtext in the Lord of the Rings

In June of 1916, J. R. R. Tolkien shipped out from England to France to join his comrades on the Western Front. In July, he would participate in one of the bloodiest struggles of World War 1, the Battle of the Somme. Just a month later, he would be struck with Trench Fever, placing him in convalescence or behind a desk for the remainder of the war. Though his front-line experience was short, there is no denying the effect that the war and the loss of his closest friends had on Tolkien, nor the influence it had on his writing in the post-war years. Much has been written on that topic already. However, there is one aspect of Tolkien’s time in the service which is underexplored when it comes to the literary critique of his legendarium – of which the Lord of the Rings is but a piece – and that is his exposure to the widespread homoerotic attitudes which were a common undercurrent in the British armed forces during that time.

Homosexuality has always been an overlooked behavior on the front during wartime, even as it passed from common practice to taboo. One reason for this might be that people who are worried about being shot to death in a trench have other things to worry about besides who their mates might be kissing. Another might be that facing death brings a greater appreciation for love to the front of the mind, and it does not matter which gender that appreciation is directed towards. As a result, we find many examples in literature and letters of men expressing chaste but deep homoerotic love for other men. In The Great War and Modern Memory, Paul Fussel writes that in WWI-era battlefield poetry, one could not fail to notice ‘the unique physical tenderness, the readiness to admire openly the bodily beauty of young men, the unapologetic recognition that men may be in love with each other.’ (303). “War poetry has the subversive tendency to be our age’s love poetry.” he quotes Richard Fein. In that case, we must examine war literature for the same sentiments.

Most common in officers towards their men, we find ‘something more like the ��idealistic,” passionate but non-physical “crushes” which most of the officers had experienced at public school. … What inspired such passions was — as always — faunlike good looks, innocence, vulnerability, and “charm.” The object was mutual affection, protection, and admiration.’ (Fussel 295) This makes sense, as ‘the tradition in Victorian homosexuality and homoeroticism [is] that soldiers are especially attractive. What makes them so is their youth, their athleticism, their relative cleanliness, their uniforms, and their heroic readiness, like Adonis or St. Sebastian, for “sacrifice.”’ (Fussel 302) In the Lord of the Rings, we find Frodo described as ‘taller than some and fairer than most, and he has a cleft in his chin: perky chap with a bright eye.’ (Tolkien 163). At his coming-of-age birthday party, he inherits the great evil that is the One Ring from his great uncle; he is an unintentional sacrificial lamb. Later, when he volunteers to take the One Ring to Mt. Doom knowing that it is likely a one-way trip if he can even make it that far, we find in our protagonist a young, beautiful, self-sacrificing hero.

Fussel writes that ‘although the usual course of protective affection was from superior to subordinate, sometimes the direction was reversed, with men developing hero-worshipping crushes on their young officers.’ (297) Enter Frodo’s counterpart and co-protagonist, Samwise Gamgee. Tolkien wrote in a 1956 letter to a fan that “My ‘Samwise’ is indeed (as you note) largely a reflexion [sic] of the English soldier—grafted on the village-boys of early days, the memory of the privates and my batmen that I knew in the 1914 War, and recognized as so far superior to myself.” (Letter 187)

A batman, in military parlance, was a soldier who, as well as fighting, oversaw an officer’s kit, cooking, and cleaning. (Garth) However, Sam is so much more than Frodo’s servant, though they start the journey as master of the house and gardener. Sam shows an incredible dedication to Frodo that cannot be explained as mere class-based loyalty. Take this passage from Return of the King when the enemy has captured Frodo. The Hobbits are separated, and Sam is up against what seems like impossible odds – faced with the task of raiding an entire tower he assumes is filled with enemies, alone, armed only with a short sword. He does not even know where Frodo is or if he is still alive:

‘… Except for that little frightened rat, I do believe there’s nobody left alive in the place!’

And with that he stopped, brought up hard, as if he had hit his head against the stone wall. The full meaning of what he had said struck him like a blow. Nobody left alive! Whose had been that horrible dying shriek? ‘Frodo, Frodo! Master!’ he cried, half sobbing. ‘If they’ve killed you, what shall I do? Well, I’m coming at last, right to the top, to see what I must.’ (Tolkien 887)

… He cared no longer for Shagrat or Snaga or any other orc that was ever spawned. He longed only for his master, for one sight of his face or one touch of his hand. (Tolkien 889)

Besides demonstrating Sam’s willingness to face certain death rather than leave Frodo, this passage is a perfect illustration of another one of Tolkien’s literary inspirations besides the Great War. Tolkien was a scholar of European mythology, drawing inspiration for his legendarium from epic myths like the Old English Beowulf and the Finnish Kalevala. Read the following lines from Le Morte d’Arthur regarding King Arthur’s death:

Then Sir Bedivere cried: Ah my lord Arthur, what shall become of me, now ye go from me and leave me here alone among mine enemies? … And as soon as Sir Bedivere had lost the sight of the barge, he wept and wailed, and so took the forest… (Mallory, Book 21 ch. V.)

Alas, said Sir Bedivere, that was my lord King Arthur, that here lieth buried in this chapel. Then Sir Bedivere swooned; and when he awoke he prayed the hermit he might abide with him still there, to live with fasting and prayers. For from hence will I never go, said Sir Bedivere, by my will, but all the days of my life here to pray for my lord Arthur. (Mallory, Book 21 ch. VI.)

These Medieval warrior relationships themselves draw from an even older literary tradition, one with not so much covert homoerotism but overt homosexuality. Ancient homosexual pederastic relationships like that of Alexander and Hephaestion or Achilles and Patroclus form the model for many close male warrior literary relationships. Compare Achilles’ reaction to Patroclus’ death in the Iliad to that of Bedivere to Arthur’s and Sam to Frodo’s:

A dark cloud of grief fell upon Achilles as he listened. He filled both hands with dust from off the ground, and poured it over his head, disfiguring his comely face, and letting the refuse settle over his shirt so fair and new. He flung himself down all huge and hugely at full length, and tore his hair with his hands. … Antilochus bent over him the while, weeping and holding both Achilles’ hands as he lay groaning for Antilochus feared that Achilles might plunge a knife into his own throat. (Homer, Book XVIII)

Near-suicidal grief at the loss of the beloved is a common theme between the three of them. Achilles lives to avenge Patroclus, Bedivere lives to pray for Arthur’s soul, and Sam, as luck and Tolkien would have it, lives to save Frodo, who was not dead after all, though it was a close thing. Sam’s joy at finding Frodo alive is as poignant as his grief at having thought he lost him – unashamed physical affection and more tears follow the discovery of his master.

[Frodo] was naked, lying as if in a swoon on a heap of filthy rags: his arm was flung up, shielding his head, and across his side there ran an ugly whip-weal.

‘Frodo! Mr. Frodo, my dear!’ cried Sam, tears almost blinding him. ‘It’s Sam, I’ve come!’ He half lifted his master and hugged him to his breast.

…

‘Well, you have now, Sam, dear Sam,’ said Frodo, and he lay back in Sam’s gentle arms, closing his eyes, like a child at rest when night-fears are driven away by some loved voice or hand.

Sam felt he could sit like that in endless happiness; but it was not allowed. It was not enough for him to find his master, he had still to try and save him. He kissed Frodo’s forehead. (Tolkien 889)

Tolkien’s earlier description of Sam as a combination of village boy and batman fits neatly with Fussel’s declaration that ‘to the degree that front-line homoeroticism was sentimental it can be seen to constitute another element of pastoral.’ (Fussel 300) In the Lord of the Rings, the Shire – Sam and Frodo’s home – represents the ultimate ideal of Pastoralism. In the Shire, Hobbits live community-focused rural lives with minimal conflict, drinking and feasting and partying, with little to no exposure to more advanced societies of the East. In that light, the entire quest of the Lord of the Rings can be seen as a removal from the Pastoral – the world becomes darker, less hospitable, and less natural the further East the Hobbits travel until they reach their end goal: a blighted, unnatural wasteland dominated by machinery.

As Frodo falls further and further under the sway of the One Ring, he forgets the Shire. He loses his connection to his pastoral home. Nevertheless, ever at his side is his loyal Sam, who recalls even in the darkest moments the comforts of home. Sam is Frodo’s link to the pastoral ideal when his suffering is the greatest. Sam’s yearning for the pastoral often comes up in the form of recalling Frodo as he was in the Shire. This is exemplified by the following passage near the end of their quest, just after the One Ring has been destroyed:

‘Well, this is the end, Sam Gamgee,’ said a voice by his side. And there was Frodo, pale and worn, and yet himself again; and in his eyes there was peace now, neither strain of will, nor madness, nor any fear. His burden was taken away. There was the dear master of the sweet days in the Shire.

‘Master!’ cried Sam, and fell upon his knees. In all that ruin of the world for the moment he felt only joy, great joy. The burden was gone. His master had been saved; he was himself again, he was free. (Tolkien 926)

While Sam represents and thus easily returns to an idyllic pastoral existence after the war, Frodo remains haunted by his experiences. Finally, we reach the real end of Frodo and Sam’s journey, the temporary separation before the eternal unification. Frodo and Sam go to see off Frodo’s uncle, and there Frodo reveals he will be passing into the West as well – a form of eternal life in Middle Earth, but one that is forever separate from the rest of the world:

‘Where are you going, Master?’ cried Sam, though at last he understood, what was happening.

‘To the Havens, Sam,’ said Frodo.

‘And I can’t come.’

‘No, Sam. Not yet anyway, not further than the Havens. Though you too were a Ring-bearer, if only for a little while. Your time may come. Do not be too sad, Sam. You cannot be always torn in two. You will have to be one and whole, for many years. You have so much to enjoy and to be, and to do.’

‘But,’ said Sam, and tears started in his eyes, ‘I thought you were going to enjoy the Shire, too, for years and years, after all you have done.’

‘So I thought too, once. But I have been too deeply hurt, Sam. I tried to save the Shire, and it has been saved, but not for me. It must often be so, Sam, when things are in danger: some one has to give them up, lose them, so that others may keep them. But you are my heir: all that I had and might have had I leave to you. … You will … keep alive the memory of the age that is gone, so that people will remember the Great Danger and so love their beloved land all the more.’ (Tolkien 1006)

Here we see Frodo acknowledge that this separation splits Sam’s spirit – part of Sam goes to his home and family, but part always goes with Frodo. Frodo encourages him to live the rest of his life fully in the Shire, and when the time has come, he can reunite with Frodo in the ‘afterlife.’ Contrast this to Patroclus’ final request of Achilles in the Iliad:

“One prayer more will I make you, if you will grant it; let not my bones be laid apart from yours, Achilles, but with them; … let our bones lie in but a single urn, the two-handled golden vase given to you by your mother.” (Homer, Book XXIII)

Furthermore, the resolution in the Odyssey, as Odysseus reassures Achilles that his will was done:

Your mother brought us a golden vase to hold them—gift of Bacchus, and work of Vulcan himself; in this we mingled your bleached bones with those of Patroclus who had gone before you… (Homer, Book XXIV)

Return of the King ends with Sam riding home with a heavy heart to his family after watching Frodo’s ship depart to the West. Like the Iliad and Odyssey, we must read a bit further to determine what eventually happens with Frodo and Sam. The Lord of the Rings has a massive amount of supplementary material, including maps and family trees. In Appendix B, we find a chronology of the years before, during, and after the main novels. It reveals that at age 96, after the death of his wife, Samwise rides out to the Havens and passes over the Great Sea to unite with Frodo for the final time.

Queerness is often overlooked in serious examinations of literature, especially when the voices of cishet men dominate the discussion, as they do in Tolkien scholarship. Tolkien scholars have repeatedly dismissed the idea of homoeroticism in Tolkien’s works as silly fangirls making things gay for titillation, which erases queer voices and condemns queerness to the realm of the unrealistic and ahistorical.

I have been a fan of the Lord of the Rings and the Hobbit since I was queer child struggling with gender identity and sexual attraction. In sixth grade, I received my first copy of the Lord of the Rings, and I read it voraciously until the pages started to fall out. Although I did not fully recognize the homoerotic undertones back then, I still yearned for the deep, lasting, emotionally fulfilling, and life-changing same-sex relationships I saw in those books. Even 20 years later, as a queer adult, the idea that I might share something so intensely personal with my heroes is vitally important to me. J. R. R. Tolkien died in 1973. He was a devout Catholic who maintained a lasting friendship with a gay poet and spoke with great esteem of a novel about gay men written by a lesbian; one can hardly imagine what he might have said about the idea of queer subtext in his writing. But if I, a queer reader, recognize some essential part of myself in Sam or Frodo, if I see my bonds in their bond, is that not enough to warrant an entrance into the discussion and serious consideration? Whether you see their relationship as a purely platonic friendship or a great romance of the ages, Sam and Frodo are in love.

Works Cited

Fussel, Paul. The Great War and Modern Memory. Oxford University Press, 2013

Garth, John. “Sam Gamgee and Tolkien’s batmen.” 13 February 2013, [msg for link].

Homer. The Iliad. Translated by Samuel Butler. Project Gutenberg, 2000. [msg for link].

Homer. The Odyssey. Translated by Samuel Butler. Project Gutenberg, 1999. [msg for link].

Malory, Thomas. Le Morte d’Arthur, edited by Caxton, William, and Sir Edward Strachey. Project Gutenberg, 2014. [msg for link].

Tolkien, J. R. R. “Letter 187.” The Letters of J.R.R. Tolkien, edited by Tolkien, Christopher, and Humphrey Carpenter. Houghton Mifflin, 1981.

—. The Lord of the Rings. HarperCollinsPublishers, 1994.

[fleckcmscott]

The Vanity

Summary: Arthur tries to get ready for work. Y/N joins him.

Warnings: Smut, swearing

Words: 3,774

A/N: This request comes from the marvelous brain of @ithinkimawriter. Again, thanks to @sweet-nothings04 for beta-reading!

If you have any thoughts or questions, please comment, feel free to message me, or send me an ask. Requests for Arthur and WWH are open!

After he started street performing and getting gigs again, Arthur found he needed a better place to put his supplies for work. The two small shelves in the bathroom were already covered by his and Y/N's toiletries, so they didn't fit there. He'd been keeping it all in a plastic bag in the closet, but that wasn't ideal. The enclosed space had a tendency to get too hot due to how the heat worked in the apartment, which made his make-up dry out. And the brushes were getting damaged because of improper storage.

Having to borrow money from her wasn't the only reason he was hesitant to mention he would prefer a vanity. Y/N would often sit on the closed lid of the toilet, watching him lean over the sink while he applied greasepaint to his face. If he had his own work area, he assumed she'd probably hold back from him when he was in it, like she did when he was in his writing nook. It was one of the ways she showed him respect. But he loved her keeping him company when he'd get in costume, how they would discuss the day and plan for the evening.

She'd begun asking more about his job, seeming to be genuinely interested in it. They were simple questions: how long he'd been a clown ("About ten years. Maybe twelve?"); what he liked best about it ("Every day is different. And making kids laugh."); and what the hardest part was. He pondered on what answer he could give, one that was accurate, but wouldn't cause her concern. He hadn't wanted to tell her he still had to deal with mean people (though incidents were seldom and he was better at handling them). If he did that, she'd probably insist on riding with him, despite his reassurances he could take care of himself. "The commute can be rough," he'd admitted. Then he'd bent down to her and tapped her nose lightly with the tip of his brush. "It's good knowing I have you to come home to." Her wide smile and gleaming squint had been full of adoration, in spite of her reaching for a tissue to wipe her face.

Eventually he told her, though. "There's a cosmetic table at Donahue's Department Store," he said, giving her the flyer they'd gotten in the mail as he sunk onto the sofa cushion beside her. He pointed at the picture of the vanity, with its dark brown veneer and two drawers on both sides of the sitting area. The oval mirror had sides that folded in at an adjustable angle, which, he explained, would make it easier for him to ensure the white base covered every part of his face. "We could put it on my side of the bed. By the window. It's only a couple feet long, a foot deep. I already measured the space."

She looked intrigued. "Mr. Fleck, you want to put a giant mirror next to our bed?" The glint in her eye was obvious.

He blinked at her. "I need a space to put my make-up. The lighting will be better there."

Studying the page, she leaned her head on him, a smirk in her voice. "Of course."

He wondered why she was joking around when he was being serious. But he continued with what he had to say. "I don't want you to stop watching me get ready if we buy it. It'd be yours, too. It's not expensive. But- But I'd need to borrow a little from you. I could pay you ba-"

"Don't start with that," she interrupted. "I'll call them right now." With a kiss to his shoulder, she got up and walked to the phone. He eagerly waited in the kitchen entrance, worrying his pockets while she sat on the counter making notes. Then she hung up and gave him the good news: the store would be able to deliver it Friday afternoon, cash-on-delivery, fully assembled for a small fee. Arthur grabbed his wallet, took out all $22, and shoved it at her until she rolled her eyes and stuck it in an envelope for the payment. "I'll put a couple mascaras in there," she said wryly. "Then maybe you'll stop worrying about the money."

~~~~~

The party would be starting at 1:00 PM. Arthur had to hop on the red line from Burnley, transfer to the blue line in Hinckley, then take the train to Gotham Village. The commute would be just under an hour if there were no delays (which had become more frequent ever since the prior year's budget cuts). Gary had assured him he didn't have to worry. He'd worked for a friend of the family before and they were nice people. The kid liked magic tricks and balloon animals. It'd be easy. And he'd be home for the Saturday Night Made-for-TV movie Y/N wanted to catch with him. (Courtroom dramas weren't his thing, but he wouldn't miss the chance to settle his arm around her and pretend to be engrossed.)

Sitting at the vanity, with its round stool and solid, cream color cushion, made him feel like a professional getting ready to face the day. Even if he was a clown. The light shining through the sheer, muslin curtains of their bedroom was bright enough to get started. After removing his shirt and raking his brown locks back, he dabbed the brush in his pot of white foundation. The bristles ran across his forehead and strong brow in even lines, over the straight bridge and rounded tip of his nose, then down his right temple, careful not to get the pigment in his sideburn. Tilting his head and holding steady, he painted curved, smooth strokes over his sharp cheekbone, down to his jawline, then repeated the motions on the left side of his face. His mouth parted as he colored the area under his nose, his thin lips, and chin. When the paint was distributed evenly, he blended it with a sponge, using small, circular motions.

Y/N's soft footsteps approached as he finished the blue triangles above and below his left eye. "What kind of sandwich do you want to take with you?" she asked from the bedroom doorway.

That turned the corner of his mouth up. Whenever Arthur had a job around lunch, she packed him something to eat. He hadn't yet gotten use to being taken care of. The attention made him feel self-conscious. He wasn't certain he'd ever believe he deserved it. But more and more often, he found himself able to simply appreciate her thoughtfulness. "Anything will be okay. Wait - do we have turkey?"

"Yeah. I'll make it soon." He watched her in the mirror as she walked up behind him and sat on his side of the bed. "You don't have to leave for a couple hours," she said, working on her thumbnail with a file. "I'm surprised you’re in here already."

It was a bit early to be preparing for the gig, but he didn't want to be late. If these people really were as gracious as Gary claimed, maybe he'd be able to perform again at their next party. Or they'd recommend him to other families. Then he'd definitely be able to pay off the ring he was buying Y/N and give it to her in October, as he'd planned. He finished working on the triangle under his right eye, having already done the one on his brow. "I wanna make sure I get it right," he said. "I used to do it every day."

She got up and propped herself on the edge of the table, dropping the emery board on it. "You're much better at that than I am," she said as he drew the outline of an exaggerated smile, then filled it in. "I'm lucky I don't poke my eye out with my liner."

Chuckling, he let his gaze flit up to hers before continuing. It was difficult not to be distracted by her proximity; she was pretty even in her casual, weekend outfit. The black, white-seamed tank top showed off the contours of her breasts. And its slits, stopping just above her hips, enticed him. Glancing at her legs, he admired the curves exposed by her matching, form-fitting track shorts. The stray hairs on her calves were few, leftovers from her electric razor - he’d have to remind her to change the blade.

She scooted closer. "Do you know how beautiful you are in that?" she said, indicating his make-up. "You took my breath away when I first saw it. Well, that paired with your good hair."

A scoff left him as he put red eyebrows midway up his forehead. The paint helped him get into character. But he was aware his visage was more weathered than most thirty-five year old men. And he disliked how the color would accentuate the lines and crevices in his face. "It shows my wrinkles," he murmured, to himself as much as to her.

"I love your wrinkles," she said. "And your squishy cheeks." Then she cupped his face. He recoiled almost instantly, grasping her hand. A bit of paint had gotten on her. "Oops, I smudged you." Before he could protest, she grabbed the white brush from the jar behind her and perched herself on him. It caught him off guard. But after a few seconds, he put his left arm around her waist to steady her.

The tension in his body grew and his eyelids drifted shut. The bristles tickled with Y/N controlling them - he'd never had someone else do his make-up before. The wet of the paint and the weight of her on his lap reminded him of one of his earliest fantasies of her. He'd imagined bringing her to HaHa's and showing her off to his co-workers. (In particular, Randall, that asshole who'd been married and divorced twice, constantly complained about his exes and whoever he was seeing, and probably didn't even know what a clit was.) Even though they'd made fun of him, and he didn't understand all their comments about women, he could have proven he was worthy of a girlfriend.

Arthur sighed. He didn't like how the tenderness she was showing him prompted his thinking to go to such a bitter place. Especially since he felt he was doing better and believed he was moving on. Not wanting to spoil the lovely morning he was having with her, he concentrated on the physical space around him, the way Dr. Ludlow had taught him. He focused on the warmth of Y/N's form on his thighs, the hint of her pleasing natural scent over the chalky smell of the greasepaint, the way her fingers curled on his chest as she tried to fix the smear she'd made. The burning in his shoulders alerted him to the fact that he was flushing, and he ducked his head slightly.

It wasn't the best moment to get aroused - he really did want to get ready for work. But then she leaned into him, her breasts flush with his torso, and his heartbeat quickened. Her pebbled nipples through the thin fabric of her top prompted him to slowly trace the hem of her shorts. With his blood rushing to his groin, he nearly didn't hear her sound of displeasure. "What?" he rasped.

"I'm making this worse."

He moved to look past her, in the mirror. The carefully formed triangle still had a wide base, but one side was uneven, the tapering causing it to look like an icicle. He shook his head and seized the brush, pretending to be annoyed. "This is why I started early."

"Really?" she replied, tousling his hair. A couple stray curls fell onto his forehead. "I was hoping it was so we'd have time." The slight scrape of her nails on his scalp, and the invitation in her eyes made his mouth run dry.

Since they'd gotten together, he'd been learning his boundaries and figuring out what he liked. Y/N was understanding and patient, and happily answered any questions he could bring himself to ask. And when he misinterpreted something or made a mistake, she accepted it with humor. Her easy manner and generosity healed any embarrassment, even when he needed a few minutes to stop being flustered.

Making love with his clown face on wasn't something they had discussed. But if she wanted to, he wasn't opposed. He huffed, put the brush on the table, then let his fingertips slide down her neck. When she adjusted her legs and bumped his erection, he dipped under the strap of her shirt. "Time for what?" He hoped he sounded confident enough to tease her. The kiss she gave him was urgent but he drew back. "This stuff doesn't taste good," he warned.

"I don't care," she breathed, dipping to his mouth again, arms going around him. At that, he reached up her shorts, in a hurry to have her as close to him as possible. Lips continuing to pull at hers, he helped her stand and take them off, along with her underwear. He wanted to watch as she straddled him, but her kisses were demanding, and he was losing the ability to think clearly. Instead, he palmed her ass, savoring the feel of her slow but enthusiastic undulations against his length. Eventually, she broke away from him, pressing her forehead to his. "I made a mess," she giggled.

He looked down between them. The stain of her slick had gotten on the front of his blue pants, its faint whiteness shining in the bright sunlight. "Oh..." He licked his upper lip at the sight and shuddered. "Y/N?"

"Yes?"

One of her requests had been that he attempt to be more explicit, to tell her what he wanted. He might as well try it again now. Swallowing thickly, he forced the words out. "I need to fuck you."

The light laugh that left her was delighted. "I'm right here," she purred as she helped him shed her shirt.

Once it was gone, he lifted her off him and sat her on the vanity, suddenly overcome with the need to take her. He threaded his fingers through her hair, angling his head upwards to tangle his tongue with hers. The grip she had on his biceps was almost bruising but he loved it. It made her inexplicable desire for him tangible. Slowly, he traced down over her stomach to hold her hips. His mouth reached her chest, and he panted between his sucking of her nipples and open-lipped kisses on her breasts.

He backed away, taking in the make-up he'd smeared on her body and face. The possession he felt at that shocked him, but he enjoyed it all the same. Then he gazed down at her core with hooded eyes and groaned. She was beautiful, splayed before him like she was, her center red, swollen, and so wet her arousal was on her thighs. He placed his palm on the crease of her thigh, licking his lip as he stretched to toy with her engorged clit. Her grip moved to his shoulder as she jerked up into his touch. He nuzzled her sternum as he continued, rapidly moving the pad of his thumb back and forth over the sensitive nub. The motions of her pelvis quickened, matching his fervor. But as his lips began to trail down to her abdomen, she stopped him. "I want to come with you in me."

After gathering himself, he stood and slipped out of his trousers and briefs. He bent to pick them up and put them on the bed, and she hopped off the vanity and turned around. It confused him at first. But then she braced herself on the table with her forearms. “Come on,” she whispered.

The sight of her bowed over like that, asking him to fill her, was undeniably arousing. But this was something new. They'd been exploring gradually. Despite his complete trust in her, he had to question it. “It’s- It’s hard to see you this way. Your face.”

“That’s what the mirror’s for.” Her eyes were wicked when they met his in the glass.

Ah. He chuckled, feeling silly for not knowing that. Then she pressed back, the swell of her buttocks nudging his hard-on. When she held herself open for him, he stopped doubting. Letting the clutch of her walls and her soft moans guide him, he slowly entered her.

When he was engulfed in her completely, he stilled and gazed at the mirror. The reflection made him snort - his greasepaint was smeared all over, the white, red, and blue smudged together inseparably, much like their two bodies. It was odd to see himself standing there - he wasn't sure if he liked it. So he blinked down at her face; he held his breath. He hadn’t even done anything, and she looked like she was about to get off. Then he felt the flicker of her fingertips on his cock. Reaching around her and between her legs, he said, “Let me.” She obliged, allowing him to entwine their fingers as she stroked herself.

Her words came out as a whimper. “Arthur...” She pushed towards him. “I need you to move.”

Eagerly, he withdrew and bucked into her, grunting and quickly speeding up. But he was too clumsy and slipped out of her. They both laughed as she grasped him and lined him up with her entrance. “Just go easy,” she said. “Don’t pull out too far.” Concentrating, he put his other hand on her hip and did his best to control the shallow rocking of his hips. The one or two inches of friction wasn’t enough for him; it seemed to be working for her, though. But it was hard to maintain his rhythm when the sound of her ass and thighs hitting him was making him want to lose himself completely.

Releasing her hand, he straightened a bit and allowed his gaze to rove over her. She was writhing beneath him, bent forward as she chased her pleasure. His touch ghosted up her spine, gentle along the faint knobs (much less prominent than his) under her smooth skin. Kneading her left shoulder, he looked at her reflection. Her head was tilted back, her brows stitched together as she strove back towards him. The lips he loved to kiss parted with every whine. And her breasts swayed with each thrust, their stiff peaks grazing the surface of the table.

A groan escaped him. He’d seen her expression contort in bliss a lot at this point. But it felt voyeuristic, watching her like this. Almost as if the mirror separated them in spite of their joining. A shiver went up him at the thrill of it, and he plunged faster, his palm on her side pulling her towards him. She met him, move for move, even as her hips stuttered, and he felt the familiar spasm of her muscles start around him. He drove inside her, hard, when she fell apart, and stayed buried deep while she rode out her climax. It wasn’t easy to do, the pulsing grip of her core nearly inducing him to move. She sobbed, her frame curling as she lowered her head to her vanity. Gasping, she squeezed his hand on her shoulder. The trembling of her legs caught his attention, so he rubbed her thigh soothingly and kissed her.

Once she’d relaxed, he left her body long enough to turn her around, set her on the table, and fill her again. Now he wasn’t patient. His lips devoured her mouth as he rutted within her, her walls around his hard cock flooding his senses. He hoped he’d never get use to this. At the building tautness of his muscles, he propped himself up on the vanity and grit his teeth. One of her hands held his hip, the other digging the small of his back, guiding him as he fucked her with abandon. “Arthur, don’t stop."

His movements faltered when her legs encircled his waist, then sudden, white hot fire consumed him. Everything disappeared as he moaned in the crook of her neck - everything that wasn't her. She gripped him tightly, her soft "Yes" caressing his ear and his heart. His toes curled into the carpet and his pelvis locked with hers, his essence pouring inside her, his length throbbing, surrounded by her heat.

Finally, he was able to straighten and catch his breath. He could feel her smile against his temple, and he patted her flank gently before he withdrew from her. First he sat on the edge of the bed, then let himself lay down and raked his fingers through his hair, closing his eyes. That had been intense. And a work out. He could feel the sweat on his scalp. He’d have to shower again.

He hadn’t realized Y/N had stepped out until she reclined next to him and pressed a warm washcloth to his forehead. “Sorry about your make-up.”

“I think I can forgive you,” he laughed. His fingertips dragged up her side as he looked at her washed face in wonder. The gentle way she was dabbing at him, the love she radiated, would never stop being remarkable. This was one of the moments she made him believe he was the luckiest man in Gotham, despite the wretchedness that had been most of his life, and the conditions he struggled with.

Arthur accepted the cloth from her and sat up, watching as she stood and washed the vanity's surface. “Did you like it?” she asked.

“Yes.” He wiped the greasepaint from his skin. “Were you always like this?”

Y/N glanced over her shoulder. “Like what?”

Unsure how to describe it, he gestured at her vaguely.  “I dunno. Out there?”

"Out there?" she snorted. "I think you mean vocal." With a shake of her head, she knelt in front of him and rested her forearms on his knees. “That came with experience. And you may not be. That's fine. You'll figure it out.” Then she nuzzled at his nose. “It helps when you're with the right person.”

His chest swelled at that description of him, that she regarded him as such, and he put his arm around her. “Yeah,” he said quietly. Then he quirked a brow at her, touching the marks his paint had left on her chest. “Does this mean you have a thing for clowns?”

The tickling of his ribs wasn’t entirely unexpected. “No." She nestled against him and kissed his jaw. "I have a thing for you.”

~~~~~

Tag list (Let me know if you want to be added!): @harmonioussolve @ithinkimaperson @sweet-nothings04 @stephieraptorr @rommies @fallenstarsabyss @gruffle1 @octopus-plasma

[chocolate-parfait]

Jealousy is an ugly beast - Arthur (angst, fluff ending)

Spring had finally arrived, and the coming of a new season meant a significant increase in your workload at the mansion because of all the seasonal cleaning required in order to maintain order in such a big building. This made you more and more stressed and tired as weeks of endless work went by, although you hid every displeasure behind a bright yet tight smile.

After finally receiving your first day off since ages from Sebastian, you and Arthur decide to go on a date in the city. Leaving the mansion in the morning, you had lunch at a restaurant with a beautiful view on the Seine and then strolled in the streets, hand in hand.

As you two got near Arthur's favorite bookshop, a blonde, shapely and gorgeous woman approached your lover, claiming to be one of his old acquaintances. There was no snowball's chance in hell the man hadn't had a little "fun" with such a beautiful woman in the past before he met you and you were aware of that, knowing him. And you were cool with it! Or at least you pretended to be, but the more they kept on chit chatting the more she batted her long eyelashes at him, looking him up and down while completely ignoring your presence, and you could feel your heart tightening with jealousy.

You didn't like being jealous over your lover's past adventures, you two were a couple now and you knew he loved you to the moon and back, but the fact remained that he was neglecting you on your day off to talk with that woman.

When you finally had enough, you let go of his hand that was still holding yours and started walking.

"I'm going ahead, Arthur"

The man stared at you for a moment, said his goodbyes to the female and hurried over to you.

"MC, are you okay?"

Silence.

"Come on luv, don't tell me you're jealous~" he jokingly said while chuckling. "Yes, yes, Arthur whatever you want". You were more than willing to drop the subject despite being upset, not wanting to ruin your date, but he just kept on insistently trying to lighten up your mood, though only making it worse.

"Is it because of her form? Well yes, I admit it is quite the scenery and if you had a body like that, my love, I certainly wouldn't complain, but-". And that was the last straw for you. You finally turned to him, tears already streaming down your face and with a quivering and broken voice you just told him

"Then have her warm your bed tonight if you like her so much."

You spun around and started walking away on trembling legs, leaving Arthur standing there as the thought "I messed up" chased every other concern out of his head. He didn't move for some time, thinking it was best to leave you alone for some time, and then proceeded to call a coach and go home, not knowing what else to do.

An hour had already passed and you were sitting on a bench in a secluded area of a park in the middle of Paris, crying your eyes out uncontrollably. All the stress and tiredness bundled together in a massive ball of uneasiness slowly melted away with each sob and tear, leaving only a cold feeling of discomfort. You caused a scene and ruined both yours and Arthur's day for something you didn't even know whether it was true or not, but you still didn't feel ready to apologize. Regardless, you got up and started walking home on legs unstable from all the released tension and strong emotions; it was getting dark and you had to get dinner ready.

When you turned the key and opened the door, you found the blue haired writer pacing nervously across the foyer, evidently waiting for you. As he stopped dead in his tracks and met your gaze with his crystalline eyes, he opened his mouth to say something, probably an apology, but you were in no mood to face him at all.

Feeling the tears coming back and the lump in your throat tightening as if to choke you, you closed the door again and went towards the back door. There, you reached the kitchen and started getting ready. You rapidly washed your face in the sink so as to get rid of the dried tears on your skin then moved on to the cooking part, diligently washing your hands first.

Midway through the preparations, Sebastian stepped in the room.

"MC, I met sir Arthur earlier. He told me about-"

As he saw your red puffy eyes and the sorry expression you wore, he decided not to touch the subject and just leave it be for the time being, moving towards you to help you peeling the vegetables instead.

When dinner was finally ready you left everything in the butler's hands. You went to your room on an empty stomach, feeling as if your stomach wouldn't gladly accept anything that you were to eat, and you fell asleep straight away.

Despite a night of dreamless rest, you felt definitely better than the day before and after quickly washing yourself up, you got ready for another day of work.

The days went on eventless, but you kept on avoiding Arthur persistently. That little accident was still fresh in your mind and you didn't have the courage to go up to him and discuss about it, hence your flee from the man like a scared animal.

One night though, you heard a soft knock on you door and a faint voice said "MC, may I come in?".

You could've recognized that voice everywhere, and after realizing that this was probably the night where you two would've finally talked things over, you got up and let him in. As you sat on your bed, you noticed he kept his gaze low and away from your own, fidgeting fingers folding and then smoothing the hem of his shirt.

Guilt spread all over your body and your heart broke at the sight. Your indecisiveness gave his conscience the time to slowly and painfully embrace Arthur in a tight hold of strong regret and self-loathing for what he did. It was clear in his disregarded appearance and bags under his eyes that he hadn't taken care of himself properly.

"Arthur I-"

"W-wait MC, l-let me speak first"

His eyes finally met yours, and as a pleading expression formed on his face, he gently took your hands in his, with a care and gentleness one would use with a scared child.

"I'm sincerely sorry for those inappropriate jokes I made. It was our day and I ruined it like the idiot I am... I would never, in a hundred lives, want to hurt you like that because...you're the only one in for me, now and forever. Whether you still love me or not, please, please forgive me, I-"

You couldn't bear it a second more. His voice was on the point of breaking and his shaking hands were shaking at the thought of you not wanting to see him anymore.

You threw your arms around him and squeezed him as tight as you could, heart brimming with emotion.

"I-I'm so sorry, Arthur" you sniffled in the crook of his neck, tears coming back once again to blurry your vision.

"I was so stressed and tired I just- I made you go through so much, I'm the one who should ask you for forgiveness-"

Arthur finally embraced you back and with a voice so very full of love he told you "Please my love, you have nothing to worry about". He paused and then proceeded, insecure "Is...is everything alright then?"

You backed away a bit to get a good look at his face and nodded.

"Yes Arthur, yes"

You finally smiled at him and then, after so much time, your lips met in a deep kiss.

As you two parted, out of breath and rasped voice you said at the same time

"I love you, MC"

"I love you, Arthur"

[duhliriouss]

Gotham’s Little Prince:

Part One

A Request For: @jokers-doll Here you go Doll, I hope you like this first part :)

Summary: Y/N finds out she’s pregnant with Joker’s baby. Terrified of how he will react, she hides the evidence until she can muster up the courage to tell him.

A/N: Buckle up because this is more than just a story of reader telling Joker she’s pregnant. There’s aftermath, protection and a beautiful birth❣️this was supposed to be a one shot but I got carried away like always 🖤

Beta Reader: @arthur-flecks-lovely-smile thank you again! Im so glad I found you ❣️ The perfect Beta Reader. Everyone should check out her work too, it’s amazing and it inspires me :)

Word Count: 2,934

Warnings: Mentions of Sex, Swearing, Pregnancy, Mentions of Violence

You were tired, exhausted actually. After Joker had overthrown Gotham, you have both worked tirelessly day in and day out to get where you have gotten in this very moment.

And there you were - standing outside on the balcony of Wayne’s Manor, with your hands on the railings looking out over the trees at the cities buildings that stood tall in the distance. Even though it was right outside the city, it was the perfect place for a king and his queen. This is where you and Joker lived now after hearing of the Wayne families death, and a luxury it was. How ironic it had been that you both had everything you could possibly ever dream of; a warm bath in a marble tub that blended with the white marble floors, grapes picked right off the vine for you and Joker to share after a long day, aged wine worth hundreds, a magnificent California king size bed with a canopy of dark red drapes cascading down the frames. Everything, everything except the daily doses of Gotham’s chaos. It was too peaceful here for you and your king sometimes. 

So that is why you stood where you were in this moment, Joker and Your’s favorite spot, the only spot in the manor to be able to still see the tall structures as they inundated with the smoke that rose from Gotham’s streets.

You usually accompanied Joker during his daily tasks and crimes. He’s been a busy man since this all started, usually making sure his followers were keeping guard around the entire city’s borders.

No one comes in... and nobody leaves.

But you have stayed behind this past week and a half, you weren’t feeling well. You blamed it on your upcoming period since you tended to belong to the unlucky kind of woman who couldn’t even get out of bed during their cycle. Though your period never came, and you have grown worried. Joker has been very stressed recently so you haven’t dared to talk to him about your own distresses and concerns.

It was unlike you to keep things from Joker. You first met when you were walking home from work one day. You saw a clown dancing happily to piano music on the street with a sign reading “EVERYTHING MUST GO”. You watched him as you came closer only to find a group of punks stealing his sign and running away with it. You quickened your steps and followed as the clown chased after the teenagers. After a couple blocks you thought you had lost sight of his bright colored getup. Ready to give up, you went to turn around until you saw him laying almost lifeless down the ally in front of you. You saw no sight of the punks so you started to run until you were close enough to kneel down by the clown. You helped him up and brushed off the asphalt that stuck to his clothes.... and the rest has been history.

You sighed deeply, still flicking your (y/e/c) eyes to the buildings in the distance. You held your tummy as your mind rambled anxiously. You knew it was possible you could be pregnant. Joker wasn’t one to care for protection or pulling out. And neither were you for that matter. The sensation was just too staggering to give a shit. You were both so impulsive, you were perfect for each other.

As you looked out your mind continued to ramble with thought after thought. Joker was out there in between those buildings somewhere. You were planning on going out to get a pregnancy test without being seen by anybody. This would be a difficult task since everyone knew who you were, everyone knew you were Joker’s Queen.

You took one last sigh before turning on your heels to go back inside. You scurried down the hallways and corridors to your bedroom to change your clothes into something that would make you less noticeable. After a couple minutes of searching you found a oversized black coat that had probably belonged to Thomas Wayne. You also picked out some black jeans you owned. You quickly got dressed and took a look in the mirror, taking your (y/h/c) hair and pulling it behind your head to tuck it in the back of the coat. You then reached over and grabbed a clown mask, setting it over your face before pulling up the hoodie over your head. You felt confident that you could get away with this look and blend in.

And with that you were off, leaving the building with ease without being seen by any of the “guards” that Joker had stationed around your new home. You were allowed to leave whenever you wanted but you didn’t want to chance any of them telling Joker you had left. You had imagined beforehand what it would be like; Coming home early only to find one of his henchman tattling to him before he could even reach the main doors. Revealing to him how you were spotted leaving, without a return. You knew he would be very concerned for your wellbeing. You’d rather just come clean now than have to make Joker go through such affliction.

Your walk was longer than usual since you stayed in the shadows. You took allies that weren’t occupied and kept your head down as protesters and rallies passed. You entered the first convenient store you saw. You didn’t have to buy anything right now In this city as the mayhem was at its peak recently. No one was working since it was too dangerous. Almost all stores had smashes in the window and most people looted as they pleased. You walked straight in through the window and found the feminine section fairly quickly. You took what you needed and left and fast as you came.

You were home safe without being noticed by a soul. You peeled the clothes off putting them back where you found it and changed back into your dark blue polka dot flare dress. You walked straight to a bathroom that usually wasn’t used by Joker and Yourself. You lifted your dress and sat down, staring down at the box that contained the test. You felt unsure now.

Did you really want to know right now? What if it’s positive? How will your beloved Joker react?

Your heart started to pound in your ears as these new thoughts rose throughout you. You couldn’t see this being a positive outcome. You really didn’t want to see Joker mad. He was so unpredictable with his emotions that sometimes you didn’t even know if you knew him. He’s not Arthur anymore. However, Joker was still very tender towards you. Warm and gentle for the most part. But you also knew certain things caused him to lash out. You actually loved how unpredictable he was at times. It made everything new and exciting. But right now you were seeing how this could be a not so great and not so thrilling thing.

You were feeling dizzy now. Your mind going a mile a minute, you tried to get your breathing under control.

“You can do this. Joker will still love you no matter what. Just take the test.” You consoled softly to yourself.

You took a few more deep breaths before opening the box. 1980’s pregnancy tests were test tubes that took 2 hours before showing results. So you were in for a very tense wait. And a nervous one at that since you were never sure when Joker was going to be home. You did everything you were supposed to do. You shook the urine in the test tube and placed it behind the toilet on the floor for no one to see. You took the box and crinkled it up inside out, discarding it deep in the trash. Now all there was to do was wait. And it WAS a very tense wait. You made a mental note to keep your eye on the clock for when it was ready to check.

You tried to keep your mind off of it by watching tv, a fail. You paced the halls over and over with your hands clenched behind your back. You even went outside to get fresh air and smell the roses that had begun to wilt outside. You were running out of ideas to ease this edge. And oh so badly did you need a cigarette right now. You usually smoked almost as much as Joker but you haven’t dared the past few days. Joker actually noticed this the other day and questioned you to see if everything was alright. Only then did you stutter out an excuse by saying your throat was scratchy and it made it worse. And what a stupid excuse it was, initiating your guilt as he ran to make you herbal tea with tender kisses for the rest of the night.

You went back inside to check the clock.

30 minutes left

With a impatient huff, you went to go try and watch tv again In the bedroom. You walked down the hallway for what seemed like the 80th time today and turned to step into the bedroom. You gasped, jumping backward when you saw that Joker was standing right there. He saw that he’d startled you. He reached his arms out for you, a smirk evidently written on his face.

“My sweet darling girl, how I’ve missed you today”

You straightened yourself out and smiled sheepishly. He always made you a blushing mess. You skipped over and let yourself fall into his arms. He instantly scooped you up with ease, making you instinctively wrap your legs around him and letting your head fall over his shoulder. He wasn’t much taller than you but he still always managed to hold and carry you comfortably.

“I’ve missed you too. And you’re home so early.” You tried to hide the nervousness in your voice.

He started to draw circles on your back as he spoke. “A clown can only do so much crime my love. Besides, I thought I’d surprise you with something tonight since you haven’t been feeling well.” His voice cracked huskily.

Your body sunk heavier into him. You didn’t know your guilt could make you feel this culpable. You leaned back to look in Joker’s green orbs as he held you, putting on your best fake smile.

“What is it?”

“Stay here doll while I go get it for you, I left it in the kitchens”

Joker placed you down gently and began to make his way out the door, stopping at the door frame. He kept his gaze forward as he spoke. “Don’t move a muscle, I know how sneaky you can be, my little squirrel”

You smiled sheepishly one last time until he was out of site. Joker knew you all too well, seeing how you poked your head around the doorframe until he was out of site again. You were confident you had enough time to race down back to the bathrooms and check on your fate. The bathrooms were much closer than the kitchens. You couldn’t wait any longer. You took your first sharp right turn down another coordinator, making your way to the end before taking another sharp right which led off to the bathroom. As you took your last turn you stopped in your tracks instantly as you saw Joker standing right outside the bathroom doors talking to one of his female followers that helped keep guard around the building. You hid yourself around the corner and poked your head out slightly to listen. They didn’t notice you.

“Why are you showing me this? I don’t even know what that is”

“It’s a pregnancy test Sir, I don’t know who’s it is but it’s positive, just figured I’d show you before tossing it out”

You leaned your back fully against the wall around the corner now. Your hands found your mouth to muffle your sobs as tears poured down your cheeks. Not only did you just find out you were pregnant, but this was also not the way you wanted your Joker to find out. How was he going to react now, Keeping it from him like that?

Will he even still love me? he’s THE Joker. The infamous man that’s killed multiple under his own will. Why would a man like him want a baby with someone like me? Especially in such a disorderly world that we have created together. He’s going to make me leave this place. Probably force me to move somewhere else far away to somewhere safer. I’ll never see him again!

Your eyes were scrunched tightly closed. You let your hair fall messily around your face as you continued to muffle your sobs with your hands. You were so caught up in the shock you didn’t think to run away. And you didn’t notice Joker was standing right in front of you now.

“Y/N...”

Your breath caught in your throat. You slowly started to take your hands away from your mouth. You kept your head down with your arms stick straight by your sides, your hands balled up in little fists. You peaked your eyes up to look your destiny in the face. Your eyes began to dart around his face, desperate to find any emotion apparent on his features. But... nothing. You couldn’t see any emotion. His red painted lips displayed a thin line. His eyes showed emptiness, not even the green in his irises were visible.

Joker watched your eyes dart around him desperately. He knew it was your test. Why else would you be hiding around the corner in a complete dismantled mess? He cleared his throat and tried one more time.

“Y/N, answer me”

You finally let go and burst into tears. Covering your whole face with your hands and sobbing as you pleaded. “I’m so sorry!! I didn’t know either and I was just coming to check. I promise I was going to tell you today! I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you. I’m so sorry I left this place by myself and stole the test without telling you! I know I should have told you my worries sooner but... you’ve just been so stressed recently and so busy I didn’t want to bother you or stress you more. Please forgive me Joker! Please don’t make me leave this city! I love it too much now! I’m so sorry, I didn’t know what to do”

Your head stayed down as you sobbed and hyperventilated between each sentence as you cluttered. Joker watched you with his lips slightly parted without interrupting your break down. After you were finished, you continued to breath heavy and brought your hands up to wipe your tears with your balled fists. A couple seconds had passed without hearing a response from him, which caused you look up to see if he was even still there.

He was, but his features still looked emotionless to you. Maybe a little bit shocked? You opened up your mouth to speak again but was stopped short when Joker’s laughs began to fill the corridor, echoing down the halls. His face showed a semi wide grin as he laughed louder, placing his hand on his chest. He didn’t look mad, he also didn’t seem very sympathetic to you in this moment either. And it definitely wasn’t a laughing attack. It sounded like his real, true laugh. They started to die down into giggles as he wiped the tears from his face. This all hit you hard in the chest.

“I think I’ll go no—“

You were interrupted as Joker scooped you up in an immense hug. Swirling you around a couple times before stopping to sway you back and forth, drawing circles on your back like he did in your bedroom.

“My dear Y/N...You really are a sneaky little squirrel”

You couldn’t speak. Your mind bounced around to what the hell was going on. You felt comforted however as he held and swayed you before bringing his head back to look at you. None of this was what you were expecting.

“Look at me.” His voice was calm

You leaned back as he did and looked into eyes. You could see his green oceans now. And you could still see the tears in his eyes from laughing.

“My little squirrel, do you see these tears?”

“Yes...”

“They’re tears of joy darling, I would never be angry over something like this”

“Y-you’re really not mad?” You stuttered through your new found tears.

“Of course not.” He cooed in his high pitched voice. He began to walk forward until your back was against the cool wall, leveraging you as he still held you to free one of his hands, gently placing it over your tummy as he spoke more. “I put a prince in your belly”. He said it in a British accent, causing you to giggle.

“How do you know? It could be a princess!”

“I just have a feeling. But we shall see darling”

You couldn’t stop smiling now. And neither could joker. You started to feel a little silly for being so worried in the first place. You both cried happily as you brought your head into his chest, taking in his scent that smelled like cigarettes, mint, and blood. Joker took his hand off your tummy and brought you closer, placing his hand in your hair now to slightly stroke the (y/h/c) strands.

“Is that why you haven’t been smoking?”

“Yeah..” you replied innocently

“So sneaky...”