#romeo and juliet fanfiction

[sparkywrites25]

Fortune's Wheel

Summary: In another life, things worked out quite differently for the star-crossed lovers. This is that life.

Chapter Summary: A reality check at the mail office inspires Father Laurence to revise his plan for the star crossed lovers.

Pairing: Romeo Montague x Juliet Capulet

Notes: In this story, I've bumped up Juliet's age to 17. Romeo is 18 here.

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The priest scanned the delivery options and speeds with a critical eye. His attention wandered to the clock now and again, conscious of every second that passed. With that acknowledgment of time came reminders of Juliet’s desperate face and the terrible image of her holding the gun up to her head. The knowledge of what she might do if this scheme didn’t come through as it needed to haunted him. Even if he were not invested in the reunion and happiness of these two lovebirds, he needed to save the girl from such a terrible fate. Lord knew what Romeo would do if he were to find out what had happened. They were both so wrapped up in matters of their hearts and loving each other too passionately. It was like watching a wildfire beginning, knowing how much damage it could do if it continued to rage with that temperament. These children needed to cool themselves before they burned everything around them with their love.

Around him, the mailing center was busy and bustling more than usual; it didn’t fill the holy man with much hope about the safety of the letter and the speed in which it was to get to Romeo. Even the options available had their risks. The time frame for this plan to go off properly was so short and plenty of accidents and mishaps happened in the mail room.  He sighed and wandered towards the queue. He could at least ask them which was the best service to opt for. Standing here indecisively was only going to delay everything.

Once more he glanced at the clock. In a few hours, Juliet would be taking the potion. The letter needed to be sent immediately if it was going to have its best chance of reaching Romeo in time for him to rescue Juliet from her fake death. As Laurence stepped into the queue, a grumble sounded from his left. 

“So yet again, they’ve lost my letter,” a dark-skinned man was saying, gritting his teeth as he walked away from the customer service desk with his wife. “Why do we still use them?” he added, shoving one hand in his pocket. His wife spoke softly into his ear, hanging onto his arm and stroking his bicep soothingly. 

“I’m sorry, sir!” The man behind the counter called after the stranger but received no reply. 

The priest stared down at his own letter in severe contemplation. Perhaps the situation that he’d just overheard was just a freak incident and not the norm. Maybe his letter would arrive to Romeo without trouble and everything would run smoothly. It was certainly possible but could he really afford to gamble this whole scenario on the chance that the mail would arrive in time? What if this wasn’t the only case today? What if there was a problem with the mail? Would it not be reckless to take that chance with this letter?

He approached the counter himself. Fortunately, there was only one customer ahead of himself and they concluded their business within a minute. As soon as they’d moved away, the holy man bowed his head in a respectful nod as he approached the desk. “Good afternoon,” he said with the thinnest smile. “Is there a service that can guarantee this letter’s arrival by tomorrow morning at the latest?” 

The customer agent eyed Laurence and then the letter he carried. “At the moment we’re extremely busy so, while we can guarantee the letter arriving tomorrow, I couldn’t say if it would get there by morning.”

Laurence wet his lips thoughtfully and this eyes widened in hope. “Perhaps the afternoon then?”

“Again, I couldn’t guarantee. We do evening deliveries as well so it might not make it there until then.”

Evening is too late for Juliet. Laurence thought irritably. “Thank you for your help,” he told the young man politely. “I’ll deliver it myself, I think. I can spare the time.” 

With that, he left the desk and strode towards the exit. The letter would have to be delivered in person, that much was painfully obvious. Romeo needed to be in the church by ten o’clock tomorrow night. It would be too late to wait for him to receive the letter then. 

Despite what the priest had just declared, he didn’t have the time to drive to Mantua and fetch Romeo. But maybe someone else could. He might have just the person in mind. 

— — — — — 

It made the most sense, the priest thought, to only involve someone who knew about the secret marriage. Juliet’s nurse was out of the question. It would look strange for him to suddenly call on her so late at night and it would definitely be too strange to ask her to travel to Mantua to deliver a message to Romeo. It would raise too much suspicion and questions, and, at any rate, she was needed by Juliet’s side. So then that left Romeo’s cousin Balthasar who had also witnessed the ceremony. Balthasar was a far better candidate for such a task since he was generally overlooked by people and didn’t draw a great deal of attention to himself. As the closest person to Romeo and an assistant in smuggling him out of the city, Balthasar was the ideal envoy, upon consideration. 

Finding the boy was the biggest obstacle to this stage of the plan and it would involve more deception which, in all honesty, the priest was not so happy about. But, in this case, the deception could save two lives if not more and bring about the possibility of an end to this feud between the two families. When you looked at it from that bigger picture, as God must surely do, then surely this was a needs must situation? 

Laurence drove over to the Montague estate at once. The sandstone of the manor shone golden under the warmth of the sunlight. Laurence walked under tall archways into a spacious courtyard. In the heart of the courtyard, a fountain rose up depicting four men back to back, swords extended in different directions; the four Montague brothers who had started the family business over 500 years ago. The rim of the fountain was engraved with some of the most famous of descendants since then. Three quarters of the rim had been filled in with these names. As the priest looked down at them, he wondered if there was any possibility that Romeo could have his name down there one day. Perhaps the Montague who healed the rivalry with the Capulet. If that wasn’t something to be recognized for then this world was a sadder place than the holy man imagined. 

He continued past the fountain and ascended the stairway towards the main entryway into the house. Once invited inside, he inquired about Balthasar and whether he was free to assist with some manual work at the church for some coins. As the youth was often being denied an extension to his allowance by his family, the offer was welcomed immediately by the young man himself as well as his relatives. There were no arguments as the priest led the young man away from the house. 

“Is everything okay? Is it Romeo?” Balthasar asked as soon as they were out of earshot of the building. “Have you any news?”

“Not about Romeo,” Laurence explained, taking the boy’s elbow. “But we have a new situation to contend with.” 

Balthasar whitened and gestured to the park across the road from where they stood. “This is a quiet place to talk, Father,” he murmured. 

They walked into the park and settled themselves on a secluded bench behind a cluster of trees. There were few people around and no one paid much attention to the holy man and the young man sat in secretive talk beneath the shadows of said trees. 

“What’s the matter?” Balthasar questioned, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. Although he was shorter than Romeo and had a little more of a feeble look about him when it came to his build, priest Laurence could see the same eagerness and brightness in his eyes that his older cousin showed of late especially when it came to Juliet and their marriage. Like Romeo, Balthasar had been very much untouched by the majority of the rivalry between the two families. Unlike Romeo, however, Balthasar still flew under the radar, behind the more enthusiastic players in this blood feud. 

Laurence glanced around them one more time to ensure there were no eavesdroppers and then he began to tell Balthasar the situation. “The Capulets want Juliet to marry Paris tomorrow morning. The girl has gotten herself quite agitated and upset over it.” 

“As she should,” Balthasar’s brows knitted so tightly that his face seemed to age with the wrinkles in his forehead, “after all, she already has a husband who is very much alive.”

“Yes but of course the Capulets do not know that,” Laurence reminded him. “God only knows what they would say if they knew that their daughter had married their enemy.”

“They’re going to have to find out now, aren’t they? If she marries again, she’ll be committing bigamy,” Balthasar spoke in hushed tones. 

“While that’s true, that’s not the most concerning part of all this. Juliet is refusing to marry Paris, without giving her reasons why and now her family are furious. They are threatening to disown her if she does not obey. If she refuses to marry Paris on Thursday then they will kick her out of the home and the family.” 

“Oh Jesus,” Balthasar ran his hands over his face. “Curse this feud. Curse our families. This has already gone too far. They cannot see the line they have crossed anymore. It’s too far from them now,” he lamented. 

Laurence placed a hand on the young man’s shoulders. “We can lament the families’ pride and ignorance later. We must help Juliet now. If her parents kick her out, where can she go? I have a spare room but that will not stop the Capulets coming after her and badgering the girl into submission, despite their claims of disinheriting her.” 

“She cannot come and stay with us. That’s like throwing her into a nest of snakes that are just as deadly as her own family. Benvolio would be a gentleman, I am sure, but the rest would not care to give her shelter,” Balthasar mused. 

“Exactly. Her options are limited although she and I have begun a plan. Though it is as desperate as it is dangerous.” priest Laurence answered. 

Balthasar fixed him with a confused look. “What plan is this?”

The priest bowed his head. “Juliet came to speak to me about the plan to marry her to Paris. She was extremely distressed and panicking. She brought a gun with her to church.”

“A gun?!” Balthasar exclaimed. “Where the devil did she get…?” He instantly began to cringe. “I expect she got it from Tybalt’s quarters or such like. The Capulets have their means, after all.” He shook his head. “What did she intend to do with it? Shoot Paris? Is she so desperate?”

“Paris was not the intended target for her,” Laurence whispered. “She threatened to kill herself before anyone could make her marry Paris.”

Balthasar covered his mouth with one hand and turned away. “God, how have we ended up in this situation where that could even be considered? How have things got like this?”

“Calm yourself, Balthasar,” the priest urged him. “Her desperation gave way to a better idea, from my mind.” As the young man returned his attention to him, Laurence continued. “There is an extract from one of the plants I work with. It can mimic death for 24 hours and in 24 hours, things can change for the better.”

“How does her faking her death make this any better?”

“Because it frees her from the Capulets’ plot to marry her off and it can resolve her separation from Romeo at the same time.”

Laurence watched the realization dawn over Balthasar’s face. A smile began to grow like a sunflower stretching up towards light and hope gleamed in the same promising eyes as his cousin. The young man straightened up and gave an understanding nod. “Romeo can come back and take her away with him to Mantua.”

“Yes,” Laurence confirmed. “They can wait it out there until we can resolve things with Captain Prince. As for the Capulets, well they will either come round to the marriage once it goes public or they will leave her for good. They cannot undo what has been done before God. If we can pull this off tonight, Balthasar, those lovebirds will be free and there may be hope to end this bloody feud at some point too.”

“I hope so,” Balthasar leaned back on the bench and ran his fingers over his mouth. “It’s uneasy to live in a city where you feel like you might get picked off by your enemy at any moment. Yet it seems too good to be true to imagine it all ending.”

“We can make it become more of a possibility,” the priest assured him. “But first you must go to Romeo and explain the situation. Juliet is going to take the concoction before bed tonight. You must get Romeo back here by tomorrow night. Ring me once you’re there and I will have an update.”

Balthasar gave it some thought. “I’ll leave this afternoon and spend the night there.”

“Make sure that you have a strong alibi,” the priest remarked. “I’m sure the Prince’s forces are expecting Romeo to smuggle himself back into the city. We must be prepared for that and to make a plan around that if we have to.”

Balthasar frowned. “That could throw a mighty spanner in what we’re trying to do, Father.”

“I know, my boy.” Laurence patted the boy’s shoulder. “We’re going to have to be very careful and stay in contact as much as we can. We have to be ready to smuggle both Romeo and Juliet out of the city tomorrow night too.”

“Perhaps we can get Benvolio involved,” Balthasar suggested. “He loves Romeo. I’m sure he’d do anything to help him.”

“Hang fire on that for now,” Laurence advised, “at least until the plan is underway. If he doesn’t help then we need to give him as little time as possible to cause any trouble he may do so. We need to be able to proceed with the plan.”

Once again, Balthasar nodded although he was still frowning. “We’re not going to have much time to try and get him on board, are we?”

“No,” Laurence agreed. “But he’s not a vital part of the plan. As soon as Romeo has retrieved Juliet then we may need to lay low a while. In which case, you can appeal to Benvolio for assistance. Until we get those two ready to go, it doesn’t matter if Benvolio will help us or not.”

“Good point.”

Laurence stood up. “Take this letter,” he said and held out the paper which Balthasar took as he rose to his own feet. “Make up a believable story for your family to explain your absence. No!” He suddenly held up a finger. “Tell them that I have you running an errand to collect some artifacts for the church. It’ll be a long trip so you won’t be back for at least a day or so. You can stay with me until the time is acceptable for you to return.”

“Okay, got it,” Balthasar agreed, the relief evident on his face that he wouldn’t need to conjure the lie himself. And really, part of it wasn’t a lie. He was helping the priest with an errand, after all. It just wasn’t an artifact that he was going to retrieve. 

He tucked the letter safely away in his jacket pocket and so he and Laurence began their journey out of the park, rejoining the main pathway as they did. 

“Good luck,” the priest told him once they had left the park. “Do what you can to keep Romeo calm until tomorrow night.”

He was met with a grim smile as Balthasar contemplated the emotional state his cousin would be in once he learned what was happening and what Juliet was going to do. 

— — — — — 

The drive out to Mantua gave Balthasar plenty of thinking time. He thought about this long feud between the Montagues and the Capulets and how many people of both families had met their end in the bloody battles and the dirty tricks both families had pulled in each other’s business dealings. He thought about how the fates had aligned to make a child of both families fall in love with each other. His thoughts turned to the dead and innocent Mercutio and the bloodthirsty Tybalt who would have nothing but vengeance. Blood was running through the streets of Verona and there was only so much the civilians could take regarding this feud. Captain Prince and everybody else was heartily sick of the situation. 

I can’t blame them, Balthasar reflected as he drove past the boundary line of the city of Mantua. He found himself breathing easier as he did. He was in safe territory now. Away from the vengeful, bloodthirsty eyes of the Capulets and away from the domineering drive of the Montagues. Here, he was just Balthasar and he was on his way to visit his cousin. There was nothing complicated or fearful about that. This was a place where Romeo could start again, and Juliet too. 

The lodgings that had been provided for Romeo was a small caravan on the edge of the city. As Balthasar left the cool shade of the city shadows behind him, he felt the sunlight roasting him through his windscreen, blinding him with its light. He grabbed for his sunglasses and pushed them over his face. Instantly his view improved and he began to glimpse the caravans dotted around the open space. 

He turned the car towards Romeo’s caravan and smiled when he spotted the young man sitting in the doorway. Pulling up outside the caravan, he watched his cousin look up. 

Romeo tossed a cigarette to the ground, a smile breaking out when he recognized his cousin getting out of the car. He hurried forward to wrap Balthasar in a warm embrace. 

“Am I glad to see you, cousin!” he exclaimed into the hug. “Have you got news already?” he asked, pulling back at once to look into Balthasar’s face. 

Balthasar fixed his most calming smile onto his face. “Nothing about your punishment yet.” He told his cousin and stepped into the shade offered by the small awning hanging off the caravan. The cooling shadows soothed the burning feeling on his cheeks. 

Romeo stepped into them with him. “But something is going on?”

Balthasar nodded his head, maintaining his smile. He had expected Romeo’s impatience given that his cousin was separated from his true love. Though how his cousin could be so certain of that love after knowing his wife less than a week, Balthasar did not know. He expected that the certainty came with the feelings themselves. Perhaps he would know it if it happened to him. Although hopefully his own love life would not be nearly so complicated. 

“Laurence has explained it all in this letter to you. He’s much more eloquent and I am still digesting it all myself,” Balthasar admitted as he took out the letter and handed it to Romeo. He stepped closer to his cousin and stared down at the words written by the priest. 

Dear Romeo,

I hope that you are settled in a safe place for the time being. I write to you because a need has arisen to reunite you with Juliet sooner rather than later. The Capulets are pressuring her to marry Paris, the Governor’s son. She has refused and has enraged her father who is threatening to disown her. Despite his threats, she and I both share the belief that her family will not let her go so easily and will bully her into this marriage. The distress that your wife has endured is immense, on top of everything else that has happened recently. She came to me and begged for my assistance otherwise she would take her own life. 

“Juliet, take her own life?!” Romeo’s head snapped around to look at Balthasar. One of his hands grabbed onto the smaller man’s shirt roughly. “She needs to be stopped. She needs to be watched!” Grief and horror battled their way across Romeo’s features and his eyes flashed wildly. “There must be another solution. I cannot lose her to death!” he began to lower the paper as his eyes immediately focused on Balthasar’s car. “We need to stop her.”

He began to make for the car but Balthasar, instinct kicking in, instantly stepped in the way and pushed his cousin back with a strength he didn’t expect himself to have. Romeo stumbled back, gritting his teeth and shooting Balthasar a death glare. 

“You’ll try and stop me? Really?!” he scoffed, charging towards him. 

Balthasar grabbed hold of his shirt but this time Romeo grabbed his wrists and resisted him, pushing back against his cousin so that Balthasar stumbled back. 

“For the love of god, finish the letter!” Balthasar yelled as Romeo pushed past him and went to the car. “Juliet’s not going to kill herself anymore!” 

Romeo stopped by the car door, with one hand, his chest heaving with the weight of his passion. Balthasar strode over to him and took his arm only for Romeo to throw his hand off and open the door. “You think I can stay still after reading this?!” he snarled at his cousin.

Balthasar huffed, his usually mild-temper rising up in the face of this difficulty. “What’s one more minute to spare to read a letter and learn that Juliet is not going to leave you?!” As he spoke, he pointed to the fallen letter and then leaned down and snatched it up. “Father Laurence wants you to know all of the truth. Not just half the letter. Read the full truth.” 

Romeo frowned at him, suspicion deep in his eyes, as he glared over the open car door. Balthasar stepped closer to him, trying to cool his own annoyance in his face. 

“Just spare a minute, cousin. Please.”

He held out the letter and Romeo took it at last, returning his gaze to the letters on the sheet. 

I have offered a solution which may bring about happier times for you both and will prevent the young lady from taking such an irreversible path. You know of my work with plants. There is a special liquid produced from one which creates the illusion of death but simply puts the drinker into a deep sleep. Juliet will take this draught and sleep for the next 24 hours. During which time her family will believe she has died. When they inevitably call me to their home, I will arrange for her to be laid in church in state. Tomorrow night, when the potion’s work is up, you need to have returned to Verona ready to take Juliet with you. No one will chase Juliet if they believe she is dead and you can live in safety outside the city. 

I will keep doing what I can with Captain Prince but it may be safer for you to stay away forever if the Capulets discover your marriage, Juliet’s survival and do not come to reason. You are led by hot, potent emotions but for a plan such as this, you need to temper them with common sense and follow my instructions. Otherwise you will be captured and executed and then, I fear, nothing will stop your wife from following you into death. 

Keep Balthasar with you tonight. Tomorrow I will confirm when Juliet is in my care and when it will be safe to retrieve her. 

Yours sincerely,

Laurence

Romeo stepped backwards away from the car, breathless from the strange read and his previous exertion. “This is dangerous work. What is Juliet doing? Why did she not just run away?” His attention snapped to Balthasar. “You could have brought her here tonight!” 

“I know!” His cousin agreed. “But then the Capulets would have been chasing her.”

Romeo ran a hand through his hair in agitation. “What if the potion goes wrong? What if she dies for real? This isn’t like being given medicine by a doctor. This is… this taking drugs!” he exclaimed. “She’s gambling with her life.”

“And you’ve never gambled like that. You’ve never taken drugs.” Balthasar countered. He sighed and walked towards his cousin, taking his biceps in his hands. This time he tightened his grip to make it difficult if Romeo tried to shrug him off again. “The pair of you have been gambling this whole time. Marrying a Capulet and in secret? Going after Tybalt and killing him? You’re lucky not to be murdered or executed right now.”

“I know I’m a fool. Everything I’ve done lately has been foolish…” Romeo argued, “except marrying Juliet. She is the only sense in everything I’ve been doing.”

“All the more reason to keep your head now,” Balthasar reminded him. “If done right, you could have your wife with you tomorrow night and both of you can escape.”

“I hear you!” Romeo snapped back. He pushed at Balthasar’s hands and sighed. “Unhand me. I’m not going anywhere.”

Balthasar hesitated before withdrawing his hands. Romeo walked around him, back toward the doorway of the caravan and so Balthasar followed him and leaned against the caravan while his cousin sank back onto his previous perch. For a minute or two, neither of them spoke. The world blazed cold with afternoon sunlight and Balthasar’s thoughts turned towards the approach of night when Juliet would take the potion and prepare for her strange sleep. 

“I don’t like any of this.” Romeo declared. “I hate that Juliet is putting herself in danger to be with me.”

“Didn’t you put yourself in danger to be with her?” Balthasar remarked. “Staying over at her place hours after you were banished?”

Romeo bowed his head but the corner of his lips tugged up. “Is that your job today? To point out my hypocrisy?”

“I’m just saying you have no room to talk,” Balthasar smiled and crouched down so that he was looking up at his cousin. “Try not to focus on the risks, cousin. Do you really think that Laurence would have recommended this if it was that dangerous to do?” 

Romeo seemed to slump even more. “Even the wisest people can make mistakes, Bal,” he murmured, directing the sadness from his eyes into Balthasar’s own. 

Balthasar slumped a little himself under the weight of his cousin’s anxious and sad gaze. “That’s true. But he was talking Juliet down from killing herself. If this concoction is that unpredictable and he was still willing to use it then he may as well have let her pull the trigger. There must be some safety to it if he’s this adamant about the plan.”

“I want to believe that,” Romeo lamented. “I do. It’s just that he could still be wrong.”

“But if he hadn’t offered anything then Juliet would be dead right now.”

Romeo dropped his head into his hands and growled like a wounded animal. “God dammit, Juliet! I would never want her harmed especially not by her own hand. This is too fucking risky.” His fingers tangled in his blond locks, twisting the fine hairs in growing agitation. “I should have just taken her with me. I should have just fucking taken her then.”

“It was too dangerous. You knew that. You couldn’t predict what her parents would do. You couldn’t have seen any of this.” Balthasar placed a hand on Romeo’s arm. “You did what you knew was right at the time. Things just… they just turned so quickly.”

“What if they catch me, Bal? What if they catch you smuggling me back into the city? Where will that leave Juliet then? They’ll just force her to marry Paris then. Or worse, she’ll kill herself. What if I lose her anyway?”

Balthasar’s hand on his cousin’s arm quickly turned into a light shake. “Don’t go there. We’re not going to let any of that happen. We’re gonna follow the plan. We’re not gonna lose our heads, okay?” He spoke with a voice firmer than he felt but right now his cousin needed to hear it. “We’re gonna wait for Laurence to confirm that he has Juliet and then we’re gonna go and get her okay?”

Romeo tensed under his grip and Balthasar feared that he was about to throw him off again. His hands fisted and Balthasar half-expected that a punch may be thrown. Instead Romeo’s shoulders hunched and his eyes squeezed shut as he inhaled harshly once and then twice. The restraint that locked his body was becoming more and more evident. Balthasar searched his mind for anything that might distract his cousin or at least focus his inclination to rebel on something else. Maybe something that could be productive or useful even. 

“We need to plan your return carefully,” he told Romeo thoughtfully. “You’re right in that they could catch us sneaking you in. Maybe there’s a way we could go undetected. I could steal another car if they know mine well enough.”

Romeo lifted his head only a fraction. “That would just buy us trouble later. If it gets reported early enough, they could catch us while we’re on our way in or out. We can’t draw attention to ourselves.” He lowered his hands from his face. 

“Should I have asked Benvolio for help?” Balthasar wondered, remembering his earlier suggestion to Laurence. 

His cousin shook his head. “No. Benvolio is too well-known in the recent street fights. He’d be just as suspected as you.”

“There’s no one else we can ask?” 

“Laurence is the only one who I can trust with this,” Romeo answered solemnly, “and he is flying under the radar at the moment. He is already involved in this.”

Both young men fell silent again and as they did, Balthasar felt the spark of an idea ignite within him. Small and maybe a dangerous spark. A spark that could cause a fire for more than just the Montague boys. A danger that could light up the priest’s life as well. But if it worked. If the theory proved to work well in reality then it could buy them time, enough time to pull this off. 

“Romeo…” Balthasar muttered after a moment or two, “I might just have an idea about that. But we’d be playing a crazy game.”

Romeo lifted his eyebrows and a huff of sarcastic laughter burst from him. “We’re already playing a crazy game, Bal. What exactly did you have in mind now?”

[not-a-hawk]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Romeo And Juliet - Shakespeare Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death Relationships: Juliet Capulet/Romeo Montague Characters: Juliet Capulet, Romeo Montague Additional Tags: i wrote this for class now you guys get it, no beta we die like everyone in this play, Character Study, Character Death, Self-Harm, Angst, Implied Sexual Content, for a line but yknow. its there, Child Marriage, but its romeo and juliet you knew that already Summary:

Romeo. The Montague’s son, and her sun. Oh, why must he be a Montague? Why must she be a Capulet? Why must she be in love? Her love will not matter, if her father kills her for consorting with the enemy, or if Tybalt kills Romeo for daring to look at Juliet.

But oh, love is sweet. She does not want to let it go just yet, not when his eyes are sweet and her smile is wide and at their wedding he promises never to leave her side. They are in love, and it does not need to matter.

OR: A study of Juliet Capulet and all her anxieties and impulses.

heyyyyyyyy so guess who posts about shakespeare now.

[fuckmeyer]

if smeyer wasn't a coward vamp!Bella would have immediately eaten her daughter Rensesmem whole-hog like Saturn Devouring His Son

[calliopesdiary]

hola!! would you be able to write a one shot with your first date with remus? maybe you’re both a little shy and nervous and just trying so hard to impress one another and there’s a lot of blushing and cute moments :)

hii! ofc, lovely! (screaming cause i got my first request 🥳🥳)

—•—

Check Yes, Juliet

synopsis: when Marlene sets two polar opposites up to go on a date

contents: fem!reader, reader likes bows, badboy!remus, just cute adorable idiots in love (:, mentioned dorlene!, readers favorite color is red

warnings: none!

a/n: this fic is inspired by the song “Check Yes, Juliet” by We The Kings! thanks for requesting!

“MARLS… ARE YOU SURE THIS IS A GOOD IDEA?” you ask from your position in front of your mirror, carefully tying red ribbon into your hair.

“of course it is, y/n. he’ll love you! besides, opposites attract!” Marlene assured you, carefully applying red lipstick to her plush lips.

“i was a little… hesitant when Pandora insisted I go on a date with Dorcas, y’know, cause we were so different. but look at us— we’re about to hit our eight months!”

you nodded silently, checking yourself out in the mirror before finishing your eyeliner.

once Marlene had gotten picked up from your shared flat, you laced up your shoes and got your things together.

and that’s when you heard the knock.

the special knock.

the knock you had been waiting three days for.

your hand nervously gripped the doorknob and twisted it open.

“hi.”

“hi.”

you didn’t mean to say “hi” in unison, now what do you say? crap he was supposed to say hi first and then—

“you look gorgeous.”

you got broken out of your thoughts, your eyes hitting his with an awkward gaze.

“me?”

he chuckled, “who else would i be talking to?”

“o-oh, right, o-of course.” you blushed out of embarrassment.

you could cue some crickets here, you could tell he was nervous, you’ve never seen the resident bad boy so nervous.

“these are for you.”

he held out a bouquet of luscious roses, red, your favorite color.

“w-wow… Remus… these are beautiful…”

“just like you.” his cheeks lit up in a rosy shade, almost as if a painter had graced him with his paintbrush.

he’d definitely rehearsed that.

you let out a soft giggle, before stepping out the front door and walking with him to his car.

you guys ended up going to this adorable vintage diner near his house, you felt like you could talk to him for hours, except you were so nervous.

he even paid for the food, he paid! (even though the guy should totally pay on first days but that’s just me 🤷‍♀️)

“don’t worry, darlin’, i’ll pay”

“Remus i was gonna pay—“

“shh, keep sipping on your slushy” you blushed, you needed to get this blushing problem under control.

“so, do you have any hobbies?”

sweet of him to ask, but you felt as if you were a bit basic.

“oh, i play electric guitar so.. i guess that’s my hobby, what about you?”

you smiled, god he already loved your smile, it was so sweet, especially since your tongue was red from the cherry slushy you had been sipping on.

“you play guitar? sick!— i mean— cool.. i play bass.”

“bass? i’ve always wanted to play bass!— i mean— that’s super cool, maybe we can play together sometime?” you were quick to get flustered by your own words.

damn, you were being bold.

“i’d like that.”

he tossed some stones into the river underneath the bridge you guys had found, your legs dangling gently off the edge as you sipped on your slushy.

“do you read at all?” you asked, reading being one of your most favorite things.

“i do— actually.”

“really?

“i know it seems unlikely, but yeah, i do.”

“well.. what are your favorites?”

“it’s hard to choose, but i’ve always liked the classics— you know, like.. Romeo and Juliet.”

“Remus, you can’t seriously expect me to believe that you, the coolest guy in town, reads Romeo and Juliet.” he let out a chuckle.

“it’s true.” he shrugged, flashing his signature grin at you.

“do… you have a favorite?”

and just like that you both had spent quite a few hours just sitting on that bridge and talking, you never thought it could really get better than that.

“i know we already talked about hobbies, but have you got any more?”

“i mean— i skateboard, ”

“you skateboard?! damn, i’m really trying to make myself sound cool here but you aren’t helping.” you teased, nudging his shoulder.

“oh come on, it’s skateboarding, it’s not that cool…” Remus itched his neck sheepishly.

“i’m sure there has to be something cool about you.” he teased, his big hand ruffling your hair.

“i don’t know what that could possibly be.” you shrugged.

“well… you wear these beautiful bows everytime i see you walking down the street, and you told me that you like to stay up all night and play video games.” he remembered everything..

“that’s not cool, that’s being a loser.”

“you are about the farthest thing from a loser, y/n.”

you froze a bit, that was so… sweet.

“t-thanks.” you blushed, again. (no surprise)

“i’ll have to teach you how to skate, though.”

“i’d love that.”

the drive back to your apartment was nothing short of a dream, music blasting, turns out you both had similar music taste.

“billy joel has to be a gift from the heavens.” you remarked loudly, your hair blowing in the breeze, the top down on his convertible.

“i can play uptown girl on guitar!” he responded, a wide smile on his face.

“really?”

“yeah!” the excitement in his voice made you blush almost the same color as your slushy.

“that’s so cool!”

he smiled wider, looking over to you, your pretty face lit up with street lights.

“i write poetry.” you confessed, you’ve definitely come out of your shell.

“you need to show me, sometime.” he pulled into the parking lot of your apartment complex.

“i… had a great time with you today.” you were so smiley.

“i had a great time with you, too.”

as the gentleman Remus John Lupin was, he walked you to your door.

“i guess this is goodbye.” he sighed lightly, not really wanting his night to end with you.

“thanks for.. everything—“

before you could even finish speaking, his lips were on yours.

your brain imploded, your eyes fluttering shut into the soft kiss Remus had just blessed you with.

your lips tasted of cherry and lip gloss, but he really didn’t mind. his nimble hands crept to your waist as your hands fell to his shoulders. just before he pulled away.

“i’ll see you around, Juliet.”

you smiled at the given nickname, blushing at the suddenness of that kiss still.

“bye, Romeo.”

he chuckled, before quickly walking down the hallway.

Marlene was right, opposites attract.

[poppitron360]

People shit on Shakespeare for being boring but my guy wrote real person fanfiction and tortured his ocs and told cringe jokes and had hidden gay subplots and played with gender too- he just did it in

a squiggly font

[eternallyjuliet]

Everlark fanfic as Romeo and Juliet but the orignal by Shakespeare >>>

(I might do this)

[peppermintsandbones5]

My favorite pastime is looking up fan fiction for classic literature on AO3 and seeing what monstrosities people have made

[bellarkeselection]

Knew Better But Still Picked You pt 2

Gif belongs to @miyagiverse

Part One Part three

Jackie has some rules set for the reader and Cole that might be hard for them to follow.

Tag list- send me an ask to be added @cognacdelights @connieisthesun @bbabycass

Cole shrugged some jeans up his legs while I tossed one of his tea shirts over my head. Tying my hair up in a messy braid. Jackie had stomped out of the bedroom and down the stairs clearly frustrated. “So how bad do you think she’s going to be about…us?”

“I have no clue. I’ve never seen her this concerned for me before since we’ve been friends forever.” I responded by slipping some socks on my feet sitting down on his bed.

Cole throws a blue tea shirt on coming over to me wrapping his arms around my waist tugging me to his embrace. “We could just stay upstairs for the day. To avoid my parents' possible wrath on both of us. What do you say?”

“Cole..” I warned him by draping my arms over his shoulders.

He leans down since he was taller than me, kissing me slowly. “How about now?”

“We can’t hide away.” I attempted to say while he kissed me again a little more passionately as if that would convince me and I hate to admit that it might be working.

The older Walter boy in front of me cupped my face in his hands. “The way you’re reacting says otherwise….jump.” I leaned into his embrace, moving my arms around his neck threading my fingers through his honey hair. He moaned when I did so and he moved his hands down where I jumped wrapping my legs around his waist but that’s as far as we got.

“Cole. Y/n, can you come downstairs now!” His father hollered where we broke the kiss.

Cole sighed and I could feel his muscles tense up. “Oh boy. Are you sure we can’t just sneak out the back door and go to the riverside?”

“Unless your parents don’t know about that place and Jackie’s phone has terrible cell service she’ll find us no problem. We have to go, Cole.” I explained to him running my right hand through his hair getting some of it out of his bright green eyes.

He lowered me to the wooden floor and planted a kiss on my forehead. We still held hands coming down the stairs until we reached the third to last step. His parents and my best friend were standing in the kitchen with angry looks on their faces. “You wanted to talk with us?” Cole stated calmly.

“Do you want to explain to us why Jackie is saying she wants us to forbid you two to be together?” His mother Catherine scowled hands on her hips.

Cole pretended to play like he was clueless. “I have no idea.”

“Me either.” I shrugged my shoulders following along with him.

Cole's father glared at his son. “Cole, don't joke around about this. We know Jackie isn't a liar. So I'd suggest you tell us the truth.”

“I don’t have anything to hide.” I replied.

Jackie stomped up, ending up in between us and the Walter parents. “Come on, you two. I know that you're lying to them. I saw you two laying in his bed this morning!”

“Okay, fine. Yes we were sleeping together in his bed. But not in the way that you think I swear.” Holding my hands up I figured it would be safer if we only lied about the horse riding and kissing last night between us.

His father glanced at his son, leaning against the fridge. “Cole, just tell us exactly what happened and your punishment won't be as bad since we already learned about you sneaking girls out of the house without our knowledge.”

“Which will never be acceptable in this house ever.” Catherine waved her index finger at him.

Cole dropped his gaze to the wooden floor and I felt him reach for my hand. I wanted to support whatever he was about to say but I still drew back keeping my hands clasped together in front of me. “Look you guys, I am not hooking up with Y/n. I just hung out with her last night and she didn’t want to wake New York up so she slept in my room with me.”

“Fine, if that’s all you're going to tell me then let's get onto the part that I came up with.” Jackie turned on her feet to the Walter parents. “Are you still open to the ideas that I came up with for going behind my back?”

Catherine shifted her gaze between us. “Jackie is very upset that you two lied to her about this. So we have decided that you two are grounded here for the evening.”

“What-” I gasped, never being grounded before in my life.

Mr. Walter leaned his palms on the island. “And if you don’t get all the chores done then you can't go to the homecoming prep rally.”

“I didn't want to go anyway. “ Cole shrugged his shoulders not fazed.

Turning my head in his direction I admit weakly. “I want to go. I've never been at anything like that in the city.”

“Oh…” Cole replied giving me a guilty expression.

Jackie moved forward grabbing my arm and dragged me out onto the porch so we could talk alone about this. “Jackie, this is ridiculous. We didn't sleep together.”

“But you did do something with him. I can see it in your eyes, Y/n. You're closer to him than you were a few days ago. He reached for your hand I saw it.” She throws her arms away from her sides.

Dragging my hands down my face I groaned at her. This was getting ridiculous that she is so concerned for my heart. “Jackie, I don't want to be having this conversation with you. You also had no right to involve his parents in this.” I appreciate it the support. But I haven't had a boyfriend yet so how was I supposed if he would be bad or good for me.

“If you just tell me what happened last night I'll go inside and tell them I overreacted. You just have to tell me the truth.” She crossed her arms over her chest.

Shoving my hands in my pockets I huffed. “I shouldn't have to tell my whole life story. You're supposed to just trust me since I'm your best friend and you consider me to be your sister.”

“If I consider you like family then there's no problem in telling me.” She pressed onward.

Stomping my boots into the gravel drive I snapped at her not being able to handle it anymore. “Urgh! You wanna know what happened between Cole and me…we kissed. We kissed after he took me horse riding to see the stars. That's what happened between us!”

“You freaking kissed him!” Jackie raised hee voice at the same time the front door opened and Cole walked past us seeing her death glare as he went straight for the barn.

Whipping my head around I ran toward the barn leaving my best friend ending our conversation with her. “Cole!” Leaning in the doorway with my hands on either side of the stall with his horse, he avoided my gaze brushing his horse.

“Hey Y/n.” He mumbled.

I opened the door coming to stand closer to him so he'd possibly look me in the eye. “Cole, please look at me. I didn't want to tell anything about last night. Last night was something that I wanted to be my own thing that no one could take away from me. But now she's made me put it out in the open.”

“It doesn’t matter that she knows about the kiss last night. I just don’t want to talk about it anymore we have chores to do.” He grumbled walking out of the stall and gently pushing me out of the way so he could lock the stall.

Spinning around in my boots I snapped back at him. “If you’re bring an ass to make my best friend right I don't like it. I already told you that I chose you when everyone else tells me I should stay away.”

“I'm not trying to make her happy. I am trying to stay away from you. But I can't avoid being around you.” Cole spun around on his feet getting close to me where there was almost no space between us.

I parted my lips eyeing the side of his jacket pocket where I knew he had slipped his keys inside before we went downstairs and clearly his parents didn't know. “Then let's run away somewhere they don't know about. Like Romeo and Juliet but obviously not dying.”

“Are you sure you're not a little afraid of any danger, Y/n?” He questioned me, focusing his green eyes.

Closing the gap I wrapped my arms around his neck pressing up against him as much as I could. “I'm choosing to be with you aren’t I Cole Walter. Danger can be my new middle name. So let’s run away for the night.”

“Running away isn't showing them I'm a good influence on you…But I don't want to be apart from you now.’ He declared looping my hand through his and he peaked around seeing that the lights in the house had been shut off meaning everyone was asleep. He led me to his truck and I climbed in hearing him Starr the engine racing away from the ranch.

Pulling out my phone I turned my location off knowing Jackie would track me. Leaning back in the seat I put my hand over his freehand. “You are honestly more fun then I'd thought you'd be, Cole.”

“I was thinking the same thing about you, Y/n.” He intertwined our fingers together and the rest of the drive through the night was comfortable silence with both our hearts racing with adrenaline and fear.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

[margowritesthings]

ROMEO AND JULIET: II

𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐜𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐥 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐜𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐥 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐧.

series masterpost part I

pairing: low honour!Arthur Morgan x O'Driscoll!reader (f) word count: 5107 words warnings: 18+ minors dni, sexually explicit, low honour Arthur, rough sex, fingering (r receiving), oral (r receiving), blood play, knife play, gun play, touch of cnc, dirty talk, degradation, enemies while lovers, violence, murder, choking, low honour Arthur being sexy af (yes it needs its own warning) authors note: okay, it's been a whiiiile for these two crazies, but part 2 is finally here!! i gave this one my all, i hope y'all enjoy <3 i have a plan for this series that's mostly built on requests ive received, so if y'all have any suggestions please feel free to drop them in my asks!!<3 as always thank you to my darling Bea for being my cheerleader throughout getting back to writing. couldn't do it without ya <3beta read by @cowboydisaster

taglist: @cowboydisaster @inkandbloodbound @counteveryfreckle @elifsukirdaghehe @reaveries @delilah-grimes @mrsarthurmorgan7 @twola

Thanks to Arthur, and your own terrible decisions, it is far from the easiest ride back to camp, your bare, sticky skin uncomfortably grinding against your saddle with each movement your steed makes. Also thanks to Arthur, ironically, it isn’t the roughest ride you’ve ever had. You’d actually be hard pressed to find a harder ride than the one you experienced just minutes ago. It infuriates you, how unbelievably satisfied you feel despite everything. It’s bone deep and unlike anything you’ve felt with any of the other men you’ve been with. It even dopes your mind up enough to allow you to reach the bridge out of Saint Denis before the real regret sets in like a gypsies fuckin’ curse. 

You urge Tybalt, your snow white Arabian, faster, almost frantically squeezing your calves and verbally ordering his gallop. The saddle burn is searing, but it’s not nearly as bad as the ice water that feels as though it’s being dumped over your head when you realise what you’ve done. 

Arthur Morgan.

Arthur Fucking Morgan.

Fucking Arthur Fucking Morgan.

You don’t even really remember how it happened. It’s a complete blur of pleasure and pain and the smell of Arthur’s smoky breath and the feel of his calloused hands against your softest, most sensual parts. One minute, you’re gathering information, planning just how you’re going to loot the bastard, the next you’re bleeding for him, burning for him as he takes you under the orange glow of the streetlights.

The wind whips at your cheeks painfully, the skin of your thighs ripping against the hard leather of the saddle. The faster you ride, the more it hurts, but you’re grateful for it. It's the perfect punishment for what you’ve done, a painful distraction from the thoughts plaguing your mind of you fucking someone who considers your father’s killer a father to him. To add insult to all the injury, you have to go back to camp empty handed. You didn’t even think about the job Morgan is probably off finishing right now after finishing you, which is probably exactly what he wanted.

“God fucking dammit!” you scream out into the swamps of Lemoyne, scattering a few birds from the trees into the inky night sky. 

Tybalt carries you home, but in your current state you simply cannot face your family and the other gang members. It's 4am before all the lanterns are distinguished and you can finally hitch up and bring yourself to enter camp, tying Arthur’s jacket tighter around your waist and walking as quietly as you can back to your tent. You don’t sleep, despite longing for nothing but your cot the whole time you were waiting. 

Your jeans burn faster than expected. 

If only you could burn the rest of the night to ashes just as quickly.

═══════☆═══════

It’s been three weeks since you’ve seen Arthur Morgan. Actually seen Arthur Morgan, that is. Three weeks of good old Uncle Colm handing you the shittiest jobs as punishment for your failings. Three weeks of trying so damn hard not to bring yourself back to that night every time you’re alone in your tent, but finding it near impossible. It takes 9 days for the bruises on your thighs to fade and 14 for the cuts on your neck, though the constant reminder of your sins lies just on your inner thigh, where Arthur’s knife ripped your skin as you came undone in his arms. The scar shines in the candlelight, only seen in the dead of night when you’re alone, shamefully tracing the same lines Arthur did with your fingers over and over, chasing that rush you know deep down you won’t find without him. He haunts you, and yet you’re infuriated each and every time his cocky goddamn smirk somehow shows up in your deepest fantasies. 

It’s not your fault. You can’t even get yourself off without brushing against the mark he left on you. Hell, he may as well have branded his name into your leg. Bastard.

These are the grievances you grumble to yourself near nightly, the battle you fight with your subconscious even now, as the lock to the gunsmith’s clicks open in your nimble hands. The old door screams out the tale of years without oil for its hinges when you push it open, stepping inside into the dark, empty room. You’re far too focused on everything you shouldn’t be focused on right now to check over your shoulder before slipping inside, but in your years as an outlaw that mistake is yet to cause an issue.

The moonlight streams through the windows, the panes casting shadows of crosses on the shelves and the weapons adorning them. Your tired eyes scan your surroundings, a smirk tugging at the corner of your lip at the sight of those beautiful weapons, all yours for the taking.

The owner of the store almost certainly lives upstairs, so when the weight of your boots on the wooden floorboards makes them creak underneath you, you wince. Yes, you’re more than prepared for any disturbances, but you’d rather not have to deal with the hassle of shooting some guy in the face. A quick job, in and out, and you can get back to camp victorious and not think about Arthur Morgan.

You start with the ammo, loading the leather bag up with all the little boxes. The shells and bullets make such beautiful music to your ears as they clatter around their cardboard boxes, a song of abundance and a successful loot that you could listen to all night. When all the side pockets are full, you turn on your heel, spurs scraping against the wood as you begin to survey the shelves upon shelves of weapons. They appear to be organised well, the rifles in one corner, repeaters next to them, there’s an entire wall of pistols, some glinting in the moonlight that breaks through the dusty window, with all the other types delegated to an area of the shop each. It’s a beautiful sight for an outlaw, especially when you see the cabinet of knives and start to imagine all the different places you could shove them into Arthur’s ridiculously muscular body…

You’re getting off topic. 

The floorboards groan under your weight again the moment you start pacing the shop to grab at least two of each kind of gun. For each that goes in the bag for camp, you grab another, ever so slightly better one for yourself. You’ll carry them out separately and tie them up to Tybalt once you’re out of this place. That’s the plan, at least. 

It takes you the longest to pick out the knives, each one possessing a captivating reason to be your favourite. The carvings on all of the different handles are stunning, each blade almost glowing right to their pointed tips. Guns are great, but you’ve always been fond of the art form of blades. You reach for one, an ornate dagger that seems to shine brighter than the others, its handle carved into a beautiful, twisted scene. There’s a woman in the middle, flames wrapping around her legs and waist as the Grim Reaper holds her from behind. The detail is incredible, each bony finger of Death himself gripping into the woman’s hip. It almost takes your breath away, but something beats it to it. Someone beats it to it. 

“Aw, shucks, I caught another stray!” Arthur exclaims, all sarcasm and bravado as your gasp gets stuck in your throat. How the hell did he sneak up on you? You can’t even breathe without the wooden floorboards threatening loudly to collapse in on you. 

You set your jaw, grinding your molars and letting out a long sigh through your nose. You don’t turn around to face him, not wanting to look at him for fear everything will come racing back again.

“Fuck off, Morgan. This job’s mine. You’re too late.” 

He takes two long strides forward until he’s right behind you, which you only know thanks to the buzzing of energy tickling your back. How you can feel him without actually touching him, you may never know. But you do, and it clouds your mind something awful. 

“Now now, little stray. Don’t we share jobs? I seem to recall you tryna’ claim some of my takin’s a few weeks back.” 

Your grip on the ornate handle of the knife gets tight enough to turn your knuckles white, but you still refuse to face him, telling yourself it’s so you don’t have to look at his stupid face and absolutely no other reason. 

“And if you’ll recall, I took nothin’ from you.”

“Not for lack’a tryin’, princess. I think we both remember just what I had to do to you to stop ya’...” he taunts, low and gravelly. It vibrates against your back.

Even with your back to him, you can picture so clearly exactly what shit eating smirk he wears right now, as Arthur reaches up to the nape of your neck, running his knuckles so softly down each vertebrae of your spine, melting your very bones. For some reason, you allow yourself a moment- just a moment- to indulge in it, to let that tingling feeling spread like ripples in a pond crafted by his hand, before the immense effort you have to put in to not moan audibly slams you back into reality. You spin to face Arthur, braid whipping the air around you from the speed of it as your new weapon is pushed against Arthur’s throat, the tip threatening to slice open his jugular.

“Now you listen here, Morgan, and you listen good. That night never happened. You had a knife to my goddamn throat, you took whatever you damn well wanted from me and I’ll be damned if you take one more single fucking thing. Now get out of my fucking sight and let me do my job.”

Despite your white hot rage, despite the sharp metal nearly being forced through his windpipe, Arthur is still smirking, and by god if that doesn’t throw more fuel onto your burning fury. He scoffs a laugh out, swallowing hard enough for his Adam's apple to push back into the blade, making a point that he isn’t in the slightest bit scared of you. When he leans in, your arm follows, your resolve to slice his throat open dissipates into the thick air. Arthur reaches up, wrapping thick fingers around your wrist to pull it down away from him. For some reason, a reason you’ll spend an eternity searching for, you let him, you chest rising and falling as you attempt to merely exist without the growing tension cutting you apart limb by limb. His breath tickles your nose, and his lips are so close to yours you’re sure he’s going to kiss you, but he stops no more than half an inch away from you.

“You know I took nothin’ from you that you didn’t freely give me, little stray.”

The insinuation shatters that lie you keep telling yourself, the version of events where Arthur forced himself upon you and none of this is your fault. You know he’s right, but admitting that to yourself would break you, does break you. But you can’t break in front of him, can’t allow the slightest crack for him to prise open and reveal your true self. You hate him so much, that much is the truth, but there’s so much hiding behind that veracity that you can never allow to see the light of day nor the glow of the moon. 

You grit your teeth, jaw painfully twitching from the strain of working the muscle so hard since Arthur’s presence has begun to drown you. The fire in your eyes burns threateningly, but it’s taking more and more to keep it aflame the closer Arthur’s wandering hand gets to cupping your cheek. Without breaking the stare tethering you together, you reach up with cat-like reflexes to grip his wrist, stopping him just before contact is made.

“Get out, or I’ll scream and everyone will know you’re here.”

You’re at an impasse yet again, Arthur clutching your wrist with a near bruising force, you gripping his with his hand suspended in the air. It’s silent, save for the deafening buzzing of electricity cracking between you. Arthur chuckles, the sound coming from deep in his chest and reaching the depths of you.

“You think that’s a threat, woman? Scream in fear of me, scream for me while I take that pretty little cunt of yours again, it don’t matter. Ain’t nobody gonna come runnin’ to save you.”

He lets go first, because he knows your threats are empty. He knows you’re clenching down tight on your molars because it’s the only sensation distracting you from the heat pooling between your legs and he knows you want him just as much now as you did that night in the alleyway. Arthur Morgan always gets his way, it would seem. And you’re no different. 

You don’t expect him to release you, so the silence between you fragments and slices you when you drop your blade to the ground with a loud clatter. Anybody upstairs definitely would have heard that, and you’re infuriated that Arthur is ruining the first decent job you’ve been given in weeks, as much as your anger is overshadowed by… other sensations.

“We’re… we’re trespassing. They’ll call the law, ain’t you a wanted man, Morgan?” There’s no integrity to your words, no more fire, only an apprehension that you pray to god he can’t detect. 

He sneers, “And you’re here to what? Clean this bastard’s floors? C’mon, O’Driscoll…” At that, Arthur kneels down, picking up your discarded weapon. He drags the blade lightly up your inner thigh, making it all that much harder to suppress the little moan building from the sensation. He spins the dagger so that the blade is in his hand, offering it back to you. You look down at him while you take it, enjoying the sight of the notorious Arthur Morgan kneeling before you like this more than you could ever admit to yourself. “You know we’re just as wanted as each other.” 

His words strike a chord. A lonely chord, in a lonely song of two lonely souls who can never let anybody else in. In your line of work, closeness is danger, it’s risk and it’s not worth it. Nobody outside could ever understand… except him. You know the stories of the Van der Linde gang, of Arthur and his son and suddenly it all makes sense, why he’s chasing you like a hungry cat after a mouse. It’s the same reason you didn’t stop him the first time, the same reason you haven’t screamed like you’d threatened to, the same reason why you’re going to let him do this all over again. That closeness… you need it, even if it is with a man you can’t bring yourself to stand. You’re just as wanted as each other… just not by anybody who matters.

He watches in real-time as you realise all this, as you figure out that the man you hate most in the world is the only one you could possibly let in. It’s maddening, infuriating, and now you need a distraction. And you’re going to take it. 

You meet each other's eye, spotting the challenge hanging between you to see who will be the first to break. You feel the tension infiltrating your body, stealing the breath from your lungs and setting your skin aflame and you know the only way to stop it isn’t through extinguishing the flames but fuelling them. You need to burn with Arthur until there’s nothing left but ash and soot. 

You spark, while your oxygen gets ever closer. Arthur takes a few slow steps forward, and it’s only when his smoky breath infiltrates your senses do you realise that despite everything, you have never kissed him. He backs you up against the display case until there is nowhere for you to escape, your lips so close you can nearly taste the whiskey on him. Your heart hitches in your throat, convinced he’s about to break the barrier you didn’t cross before. 

Arthur doesn’t kiss you, instead growling deep in his chest as he sniffs, trailing his nose from your collarbone to your jaw. You shudder, your shirt suddenly feeling much too tight on your form.

“W-What are you-”

“Exactly what you want me to, little stray.” He whispers, “Or should I-”

“No. D-Don’t stop, I-” 

He doesn’t let you finish your request, knowing exactly what it is before the words can leave your lips and you’re grateful, it means you can hold full deniability after the storm just like you did last time. Arthur grasps your collar in each hand, tearing your shirt apart and scattering your buttons across the floorboards. Your nipples feel the cool night air only for a moment before one is taken in Arthur’s mouth, the other pinched between his calloused fingers. It’s too much and not enough all at once, and you feel the heat and moisture pool in your underwear at the very thought of what's to come. You need more. Now.

Your nails dig into Arthur’s shoulders, pushing him to his knees before you with a force enough to bruise him. It is an addicting view, Arthur kneeling for you, and it’s not one you’re about to pass up again. His hands are quickly on your belt, unbuckling it to access your buttons and zipper to slide your jeans and panties down your legs. Clothes discarded, he grips into your thighs and spreads them, diving into your heat like it’s a source of oxygen. There’s no teasing, no featherlight touches nor gentle licks… no, he takes your clit in between his teeth, the sharpness shooting everywhere as he begins to suck. It catapults you. To where, you have no idea, but it’s incredible, otherworldly, and enough to make you instantly forget where you are. You mewl, tugging at Arthur’s locks as he begins to lap your juices up like a man starved. Say what you will about Arthur Morgan- and you do, often- but by god does he know exactly how to make you feel good. 

You’ve never had a man take you like this, with you standing above him while he bows to you, and it takes near everything you have to not let your legs buckle beneath you. Somehow, you know Arthur would catch you, but you’d rather not find that out right now. 

“Fuck…” you breathe out amongst moans and whimpers, hips bucking against Arthur’s face. His stubble burns against your thigh beautifully, each and every sensation of the moment working harmoniously to send you to dizzying levels of pleasure. You ride Arthur’s face, bare feet pointed on your tiptoes to allow him better access as you climb closer to nirvana. Your nails scratch hard against his scalp, wordlessly letting him know just how close you are, silently demanding he doesn’t dare stop. Arthur sucks hard on your sensitive little bundle of nerves, his teeth catching it every so often in the sweetest pain you’ve felt in… well, about 3 weeks. It hurtles you over the precipice you’ve been dangled over, and you have to bite down on your lip so hard you draw blood. A coppery taste blooms over your tongue, your only sign that you’re still human despite the unearthly, ethereal sensations burning every inch of your body inside and out. 

When you reach what you assume to be the peak, the very edge of what you’re sure a human body can handle, the strength of your bite becomes no match for the need to moan out. It echoes around the room, a positively obscene sound that you can’t even really hear over the rushing of your own blood in your ears. 

“Quiet, goddammit.” Arthur grumbles, all but slapping his palm against your open, quivering mouth. Just as you think you’re about to come down from this immeasurable high, you feel two of Arthur’s thick fingers run over the part of your soaked slit that isn’t consumed in between his teeth. It’s the only warning you get before he plunges them deep inside you, curling to find that swollen spot he seems to have a map to. No barrier on this Earth or otherwise could stop the scream derived from pure ecstasy escaping your lips. The combination of the delicious suction Arthur has on your clit and the curved pumping of his fingers is a completely new level of euphoria. You feel so full before Arthur’s cock has even broken free from its denim confides and you’re not sure how much more of this relentless orgasm you can take without collapsing into him. 

You reach a crest higher than you thought possible, crashing back down into this realm as if your body is nothing but seafoam. Your chest swells with each laboured breath you’re finally allowed to take once Arthur removes his hand from your mouth, though you still can’t really see straight. Your mind is fuzzy, still trying to wrap itself around the concept that anyone could make you feel that good, so Arthur already has his zipper undone and is reaching to pull his cock out before you’ve even registered that he has stood.

After three weeks of Arthur only existing in your mind, you’d convinced yourself that your memory couldn’t possibly be accurate, that over a few lustful nights alone in the dark you’ve managed to exaggerate… but no. Arthur is, as much as you loathe to admit it, magnificent. Just as thick as you remember, with veins that wrap around his shaft like ivy throbbing with pure need. He’s almost too big, your overstimulated cunt seems to think, widening your eyes in awe to watch when Arthur begins to palm his leaking cock.

“I-I don’t think I can-“

“Oh yeah you fuckin’ can,” He grits, giving you no time to catch up with your own racing heart as he grips your thighs, lifting you up to perch on the glass counter of weapons and spreading you wide. Arthur surges up, spearing into you. He wastes no time, he needs not warm you up; after such a blinding orgasm, you’re already soaking for him. He feels your arousal, mixed with his own residual spit, coating his cock as he slides in up to the hilt. He groans viscerally, leaning right into the crook of your neck so his breath burns your skin. He takes your flesh between his teeth in a sharp, pinching bite and you yelp between mewls. Tears form in the corners of your eyes from the pure stretch and invasion of Arthur filling you so wholly, but you’re too far gone into this cloud of sensation to care if they fall. 

“See how much you need me, little stray… how much you fuckin’ need this cock, huh? Actin’ like you hate the big bad wolf, but I feel how your cunt weeps for me, how it wraps around me while I fuck you senseless.”

Your inner thigh is left with a burning red handprint when Arthur releases it to reach and rub hard circles on your clit. It makes it so hard to meet his eye without your own rolling to the back of your head in bliss, makes it near impossible to argue back when you can already feel another orgasm approaching, but your stubbornness persists enough to let you try and struggle out an argument.

“I can enjoy your cock and still hate you, wolfie.” 

Your less than affectionate nickname earns you a harsh slap against your clit, the pain bouncing through your every inch in the sweetest pain you could imagine. You cry out again, sucking in a breath through gritted teeth as Arthur continues to relentlessly pound into you. You’re sure you won’t be able to walk tomorrow, or ride for at least a week, but it’s a small price to pay for something so fucking good.

Neither of you are holding back, moaning into eachothers mouths, inhaling eachothers breaths, growling for each other and just barely avoiding your lips touching. You don’t hear the ceiling creak, nor the stairs groan under the weight of the gunsmith on his way to see who or what is making such grotesque noises in his humble little shop. All there is in this moment is you, Arthur, and his glorious cock fucking you insensible. Your ass burns from the friction of rubbing up against the glass display case, even more so when Arthur releases your other thigh to reach for something at his hip and the case is left to hold your entire weight. You see nothing but your big bad wolf, grunting and growling deep as you climb ever higher with him.

“What in the-”

BANG 

A gasp is ripped from your throat with the gunshot ringing in your ears. Your heart couldn’t pound any harder without breaking free of your ribcage, but a swift look to your left shows that you’re in no danger at all. Arthur’s arm is outstretched, smoking pistol pointed to the air above the now dead gunsmith. He doesn’t even look away from your face, contorted in such bliss as he continues to dangle you over the edge. He killed a man while buried so deep inside you, his victim’s blood now splattered across both your faces like crimson freckles. 

There’s no time to mourn, or even acknowledge, as grasps your jaw hard between his thumb and forefinger and forces your eyes back to him. The blood sprayed on his features suits him, you think, but that makes sense for the big bad wolf. The way he takes a life with such ease… it terrifies and enthrals you all the same. Your pussy squeezes around his shaft involuntarily at the thought of watching him kill again and again just to fuck you just that bit longer, at the idea that those measly mortal lives pale in comparison for his need to be inside you. 

“Oh, fuck, Arthur I’m gonna-” 

You’re cut off by a sharp slap to your cheek, and it burns so beautifully. The blood on Arthur’s hands smears across your skin, tainting you, body and soul. His hand quickly returns to its bruising grip on your cheeks, and you feel the heat of the pistol in his other hand pressing into your stomach. His finger isn’t near the trigger, and somehow you don’t think he would hurt you with it, but you suddenly realise the danger you could be in right now. You and Arthur hold a long-standing feud, your respective gangs have been fighting for even longer than that. The outlaw just executed a man ruthlessly for simply being in the wrong place, his own property, at the wrong time, and now he holds your life in his hands, literally. There is nothing stopping him from widening those jaws and consuming his little stray right here and now…

And what a way to go it would be.

You can’t bring yourself to care, can’t let the fear serve any other purpose than to pump the adrenaline around your veins and carry you back to the climax you’re searching for.

“Gonna cum, little stray? Come apart for me all over again? Hate me all you want, you n’ I know what you do for me when we’re all alone. Cum, little stray. Now.”

And you do. You come apart not with a fizzle but a bang. A blinding, screaming bang, where your limbs tighten around Arthur and your skin fizzles at any contact. He never stops his thrusts, each one seeming to renew the sensations spreading around your whole body like waves lapping and crashing against you. The gun presses into your flesh, serving as a reminder of the danger Arthur is capable of inflicting, yet it only heightens everything. You moan into his ear, your tongue running across his lobe not by design but because you have completely lost control of yourself. In this moment, you’re Arthur’s. And you feel too fucking good to even worry about it. 

The fear that he could snap your neck with so little effort, or pull the trigger of his gun and blast you to bits, lingers, spurring on your frantic movements while you grind needily against his own thrusts. Part of you wishes he would, so the both of you could find some twisted hellish realm where this union makes sense and you can rule it, together. The big bad wolf and his little stray. It’s an alarming thought to have, but who could blame you? If the devil himself could make you feel this good you’d bow to him too, weapons or none.

Arthur’s movements become sloppier, less controlled, and his grip on your cheeks tightens. He’s close, while you’re still riding your high. There’s a sharp aching where the gun presses hard into your ribcage, giving your future self the perfect excuse as to why you didn’t make Arthur pull out. He curses loudly, though it comes out more a growl, before biting hard into your neck. He surely draws blood with the force of his teeth against your skin, but it’s difficult to find it in you to care. He’s pounding you so hard into the glass you’re worried it’ll smash beneath you, but being shredded by broken glass seems an easy punishment for the sins you’ve committed again with this man.

You both come down together, glistening with blood and sweat and tears. Arthur remains in the crook of your neck, exhaling hot breaths over your skin. There’s a few seconds of a silence only broken with exasperated gasps, and then a wince when Arthur slides out of your drenched cunt. Now you can actually think straight, your hand shoots to your swollen lips at the sight of the deceased gunsmith beside you. Arthur is covered in blood, and you’re no better, but by God does it suit him. 

Having not gotten fully undressed, save for resting his jeans below his hips, Arthur takes no time at all to right himself, holstering his gun and pulling his jacket over the bloodstained shirt. He looks over to you, the harsh shadows cast by the moon only exaggerating his smirk. It takes everything you have not to flinch when he reaches for you, though the panic quells when he runs his thumb gently over your jaw, leaving a scarlet trail in his wake.

“See you on the next job, little stray.”

[user637363]

R&J

—pairing: jj maybank x reader, ex!rafe cameron x reader

—synopsis: you and jj maybank, star crossed lovers. you both knew it wouldn’t work out.

—warnings: DARK!, major character death, gun violence, falling from high elevation, angst, hurt, please read at your own risk.

“Where are you taking me?” You laughed, the sound echoing in the quiet of the bell tower as JJ guided her up the stairs. They had just escaped Midsummers, the distant sounds of music and chatter fading behind them.

You was a kook, through and through—a fact that had shaped much of her life. Your parents’ business partnership with the Camerons had not only placed her in the inner circle of the wealthy elite but had also woven her life tightly with Rafe Cameron’s for over three years.

From the outside, their relationship seemed like a fairy tale—the kook princess and the kook prince of the island—but beneath the surface laid an ocean conflicts.

Three weeks ago, you made a heart-wrenching decision—to walk away from the person you loved, Rafe. Their relationship had reached a breaking point. You felt yourself slipping further down his list of priorities, you constantly felt like a second choice to his drugs and you just couldn’t handle that.

Rafe Cameron had fallen hard and fast for you, his love for you burning brighter than any flame. From your days as childhood friends to the years of your relationship, Rafe had been completely infatuated with you.

When you ended things, Rafe was lost. He had never imagined a life without you, you two’s bond seemingly unbreakable. The pain of your absence was like a physical ache.

When Rafe first noticed your presence among the Pogues, a surge of fury rippled through him. The mere thought of you associating with them, especially JJ Maybank, sparked a fire of jealousy within him.

Three days after your painful breakup with Rafe, you found herself reluctantly agreeing to meet Sarah’s new boyfriend, John B, and his group of friends. You weren’t wasn’t sure what to expect, your heart still raw from the end of your relationship, but Sarah had been insistent, promising that a day at the beach with the Pogues would be just the distraction youneeded.

As you guys arrived at the beach, your eyes landed on JJ, a member of John B’s group.

From the moment you laid eyes on JJ, you felt a shift deep within you—a stirring of emotions unlike anything you had ever experienced before. It wasn’t just a fleeting attraction, no, it was a deep, soul-stirring connection.

“Can’t you see, Y/n?” JJ chuckled, his warm hand enveloping yours as he tugged you along. “We’re going up the bell tower.”

You giggled, the sound echoing in the stairwell, your white silk strapless dress billowing behind you as you climbed the stairs.

“There.” JJ smiled as he showed her the place they were anticipating for.

It was at the top of the bell tower and it was covered in roses and candles with a picnic sitting on the edge.

“Oh my god…” You started. “It’s beautiful.”

With a smile that lit up your face, you approached JJ and wrapped your arms around him in a warm hug. You could feel the steady beat of his heart against your chest.

As you pulled back slightly, Y/n cupped JJ’s face in her hands, her eyes locked on his. In that moment, the world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them standing amidst the roses and candles, lost in each other’s gaze.

Unbeknownst to you and JJ, Barry stood at the bottom of the bell tower, his gaze fixed on the stairs, a sinister smile playing on his lips. He had been waiting for this moment, watching from afar as you and JJ ascended the tower, oblivious to his presence.

Earlier that week, JJ found himself in a desperate situation, needing money for his father's bail. The situation had driven him to seek solace in the last place he ever thought he would—Barry's house.

As he stood in Barry's dimly lit living room, the smell of weed heavy in the air, JJ knew that this was not where he wanted to be. But the stress and worry over his father had clouded his judgment, leading him to make a decision he would soon regret.

JJ had refused to burden you with his troubles, knowing that you were already dealing with her own challenges. He had wanted to protect you from the harsh realities of his life, so he had kept his struggles to himself, choosing to face them alone. Resorting to buying weed from Barry’s house.

JJ sat on Barry’s couch as he waited for Barry to return with the weed.

“Wait here for like 10 minutes,” Barry spoke to JJ, his voice tinged with annoyance as he answered a call. “I’ll be back, so don’t try any smart shit, got it?”

JJ nodded, not intending to do anything. Three or so minutes passed and JJ got up just to stretch but as he got up a floorboard creeped then dropped opened.

And in it? Stacks of cash. Had to be at least 20k to 25k.

JJ really didn’t want to do it but he had too, for his dad.

JJ’s heart pounded in his chest as he looked around, ensuring no one was watching. With a quick, nervous glance over his shoulder, he reached down and grabbed the stacks of cash from the hidden compartment, his hands trembling as he collected every single dollar.

He quickly stuffed the money deep into his backpack, his heart racing. With a practiced hand, he carefully replaced the floorboard, ensuring it looked undisturbed, as if nothing had happened.

Barry returned just five minutes later, handing JJ the weed as promised and setting him free. JJ breathed a sigh of relief, grateful to be leaving Barry’s house without incident.

However, little did JJ know, this decision would come back to haunt him in ways he never imagined.

“Fuck this.” Barry whispered to himself and started to march up the bell tower. He knew that JJ took the money and wasn’t letting him off the hook so easily.

At the top of the tower, you gave JJ one last kiss before opening the picnic basket.

“You are the most beautiful girl I have ever seen,” JJ spoke. He wasn’t lying, in that moment you looked absolutely breathtaking. Your hair cascaded down in loose curls, framing your face perfectly, and the silk white strapless dress you wore accentuated your beauty, making you look truly majestic in the moonlight.

“Thank you.” You blushed.

JJ smiled at you. Just as he was about to take a bite out of his sandwich you guys heard a yell which made you two jump.

“JJ fucking Maybank!”

JJ recognized the voice and knew he was truly fucked. “Y/n?” he whispered urgently, his eyes wide with fear. “Just cooperate with me right now, okay? Don’t say anything.”

You took a shaky breath, your eyes locked with JJ’s as you nodded in response.

“Barry.” JJ spoke as he saw the man reach the top where there little set-up was.

“Well this is nice, ain’t it?” Barry darkly chuckled. “I checked out that little Kook party they was having. You wasn’t there.”

“Barry, please, not right now.” JJ pleaded.

“I want my damn money!” Barry yelled which startled you, making you gasp.

“Oh look what we have here.” Barry raised his eyebrows in amusement. “Rafe get tired of you?”

“Leave her out of this.” JJ’s jaw ticked in fury. “I’ll give you back the money. Can we have this conversation another day.”

Barry scoffed, reaching into his back pocket, he pulled out a gun.

“No!” You let out a choked sob, desperation lacing your voice. “Tell me how much money he owes you. I’ll give it to you!”

"Y/n, I said stay out of this," JJ demanded, his tone harsh and commanding. He knew that you were only trying to help, but he also knew that involving you further would only make things worse. He needed to handle this situation on his own, no matter the cost.

Barry, his gaze fixed on JJ, kept the gun pointed at him. "Mrs. Country Club ain't going to help you here," he sneered, his voice dripping with disdain.

Barry, ignoring your pleading sobs, kept inching closer to JJ, who in turn kept inching backwards. A standoff between predator and prey.

“Sad it has to end like this, huh?” Barry seethed, his voice dripping with malice.

“JJ!” You screamed, your voice filled with terror as JJ took one last step back, teetering on the edge of the tower.

It all happened so fast. Barry didn’t pull the trigger, but in that moment, he might as well have.

You watched in horror as the love of your life took his final step, teetering on the edge of the bell tower before falling into the abyss below. Time seemed to slow as you stood frozen, unable to comprehend what was unfolding before your eyes.

The world around you blurred as tears filled your eyes, your heart shattering into a million pieces. The sound of his body hitting the ground echoed in your ears.

“J!” You screamed at the top of your lungs.

You turned back, expecting to see Barry, but he was nowhere to be found. That bastard had escaped, leaving behind only his gun.

You quickly bent down, grabbing the gun before running down the steps of the bell tower. The echoes of your screams and sobs were loud.

Each step felt like an eternity as you raced down the stairs, the weight of the gun heavy in your hand. Tears blurred your vision, but you didn’t care.

Once you reached the bottom you you him.

You saw JJ lying motionless on the ground, blood seeping out of the back of his head.

Kneeling down beside him, you reached out a trembling hand, gently brushing his hair back from his face.

You sobbed as you took JJ into your arms, the torn fabric of your white dress clutched tightly in your hand. With trembling hands, you pressed the fabric against the back of his head, trying desperately to stem the flow of blood.

But it was useless.

“Y/n/n…” JJ’s voice was soft, barely more than a whisper, but it was enough to make your heart ache with longing. Another sob escaped your lips as you looked down at him, his smile so gentle and full of love.

“JJ… you’re going to be okay. Just please stay with me.”

JJ’s slowly nodded eyes as his gradually opened and closed.

“Keep your eyes opened, please.” Your voice croaked. “Don’t give up on me… stay.”

“I love you.” He spoke gently.

As his eyes met yours, he offered a small, reassuring smile. With a gentle nod, he conveyed his understanding, his acceptance of what was to come.

“I love you too, JJ. We can tell eachother that everyday if you just stay.”

But deep down, you knew it was too late. JJ was slipping away, his grip on life growing weaker with each passing moment. You wanted nothing more than for him to stay, to hold you in his arms and tell you that everything would be okay.

JJ nodded again. But it wasn’t convincing.

You continued to press the torn fabric into the back of JJ’s head, your hands shaking with grief and desperation. Tears streamed down your face, blurring your vision as you tried to stem the flow of blood.

Then it happened.

He closed his eyes.

“JJ?” You choked out, your voice trembling with fear and sorrow. You shook him gently, hoping against hope for some sign of life. You checked his pulse to feel anything.

Nothing.

“Help! Someone!” You screamed, your sobs taking over. “Help!”

You were screaming, the sound raw. Tears streamed down your face, your body racked with sobs as you collapsed beside JJ’s lifeless body.

The love of your life just died in your arms.

It didn’t matter to you if you had only known each other for 3 weeks. The love you shared with JJ was unlike anything you had ever experienced. In those 3 weeks, you had shared more moments of joy, laughter, and love than some people experience in a lifetime.

You just couldn’t picture a life without him.

As you were sobbing, your eyes fell upon it.

Barry’s gun.

You could almost hear the voices of your friends and family.

You’ve only known him for three weeks.

You spent the last 16 years without him, he’s not important.

But you didn’t care. The pain of losing JJ was too much to bear, and the thought of facing another day without him was unbearable. The love you felt for him consumed you, driving you to make a decision that you knew was final.

With a steady hand, you pressed the gun to the bottom of your chin, your heart heavy with sorrow but you were adamant in your decision.

Memories of JJ Maybank started swarming your mind.

Their first memory to their last. Everything.

You locked the gun.

“I love you, JJ Maybank.”

Then everything went black.

[iamred-iamyellow]

with the encouragement of bestie @aceyalonso i’ve decided TO RETURN TO MY LESTAPPEN ROMEO AND JULIET FIC

i’m gonna also tag lovely mutuals @formulaocean and @blueberry-obsessed bc i was talking to the two of you months ago when i started writing this.. 😭

you can read the first chapter here if you’d like

[what-shitfuckery-is-this-ew]

"Why are you reading Shakespeare fanfic"

Maybe i'm just sad ok. Maybe i like the idea of Othello not having to deal with Iago's shit. Maybe i like watching Hamlet be a college student. Maybe i like Romeo dying painfully while Juliet lives happily. Maybe i like the idea of Lady Macbeth fucking me. Let me live.

[c0mbatchameleon]

Hiii how y’all doing just here to drop a random snippet

The midnight lighting sweeps over James’ skin, casting soft shadows. Specks of glitter along his eyelids—no doubt Dorcas’ doing, damn her—twinkle like individual stars. A night sky painted over this sculpture of a face, of a boy. Eyes crinkled in laughter, cheeks blossoming.

The music is muffled, as if they really are underwater, at the bottom of some sea, and Regulus is swimming in it. The beat pierces through the waves, resonating in the floor beneath him and straight through to his chest. Or maybe that’s just his heartbeat. Or James’. Maybe the room is just one big heartbeat.

Regulus is so lost in it all he doesn’t notice when neither of them are laughing anymore.

James’ eyes, gold and glittering, sweep over Regulus’ face in interest. “Who did your makeup?”

His mouth feels dry as he replies, “Pandora.”

James raises a hand gently and hesitantly, holds his fingers out by the younger boy’s face, like the iridescent lines sloped across it have some sort of pull. “Can I?”

Regulus holds his breath. And nods.

He watches the pure wonder strewn across James’ expression as he softly traces the lines—beneath his eyes, across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose, above his eyebrows and then below. It’s a ghost of a touch and it’s leaving trails of white-hot flame. Regulus keeps himself as still as possible, breaths shallow, like the slightest movement might scare him and his touch away.

“So pretty,” James murmurs, so softly it’s not clear if he knows he said it out loud.

“Uh- yeah,” Regulus stutters, “she’s good at makeup.”

The tracing continues dangerously close to Regulus’ lips as James speaks in almost a whisper. “Oh. Yeah, the makeup too.”

[kinoritik13]

TALK, you two! Then there will be a lot of nightingales in your life.

[starofthemorning16]

[reggieandtheripoffmoose]

I think one of the reasons I love Jegulus so much is because of the horrifically tragic "doomed from the start" trope (usually more prominent in canon-compliant fanfics)

There's just something about the trope that is so gut-wrenchingly sad and melancholic, but it also always leaves more of an impression on me. I crave it

It's one reason Romeo and Juliet was so enjoyable to study at school. Yes, I know there are issues with the relationship itself, but it's the idea of them being doomed from the start that I am talking about. The audience are told from the very beginning that they are fated to die, yet we all still somewhat convince ourselves they will survive until they die. Similar to They Both Die at the End by Adam Silvera. It's literally in the title and yet, the amount of people (myself included) who were convinced they'd both survive? For me, it was the fact that I felt the title was too obvious and it was a bluff so I decided to remain skeptical and not trust it. The ending hurt like a bitch

Romeo and Juliet is similar to the myth of Pyramus and Thisbe which is an equally horribly tragic story of two forbidden lovers who meet their demise

In canon-compliant Jegulus fics, we always know that they are doomed. From the start, we know they will break up and Regulus will go into that cave and die. I always know this but still yearn for the pain of it. Cathartic release can be a good feeling, honestly

James and Regulus were two souls intertwined, doomed to be ripped apart by tragedy