#I think pink really brings out Arthur’s eyes and compliments his hair

[ikevamp-shrine]

Hiya! I just wanted to know if you take headcanon requests and if yes I just wanted to see your take on the ikevamp boys playing seven minutes in heaven? I just love the way you write so much I had to ask ☺️ 💕

Thank you for requesting ❤️ I hope you enjoy this and if you would like me to write for Vincent, Dazai, Shakespeare, Sebastian and Jean just say so (I couldn’t really think of anything for them but I can try again if y’all want it). And thank you for the compliment hun☺️.

Author: @ikevamp-shrine

Fandom: Ikemen Vampire

Characters: Le Comte, Arthur, Theo, Leonardo, Mozart, Napoleon, Isaac

Prompt: seven minutes in heaven

Warnings: none

It was just supposed to be a small get together, or banquet as Le Comte calls it, no one would have thought it would come to this.... playing seven minutes in heaven.

Mozart

“This is annoying,” Mozart huffed as he once again shoved a mop handle off his form, the wooden cleaning tool quickly falling back against his scowling form.

“At least look at the bright side of our predicament Wolf,” you mumbled wracking your brain for the bright side of being shoved in a utilities closet by a bunch of vampires.

Mozart scoffed, you could feel his eye roll from your cramped position in front of the musician even if you couldn’t see it.

“There is no bright side. We’re in a dark, disgusting storage closet when I could be composing and you could be wasting your miserable life away.”

“Wow Wolf, you sure know how to charm a person,” you laughed weakly trying to make yourself smaller so you wouldn’t enrage the agitated man even further.

Mozart was quiet for a moment, his fingers drumming against the wall in a simple melody. He sighed gently, huffing once more and scrunching his nose, “It doesn’t nessessarly bothering me that much when it’s you, here with me.”

You felt him reach up to sweep a stray lock of his hair away as a smirk slowly warped your lips.

“Aww, so you do like me.”

Mozart sneered at your words, “do not flatter yourself.”

Theo

“Stop touching me hondjie,” Theo grumbled as he pushed your arm away from him.

You sighed, growling internally at his thorny attitude. You knew this was a bad idea- playing seven minutes in heaven that is, especially with the crude art dealer.

“I can’t really move anywhere else now can I you ass?” You mumbled letting your head fall back onto the dark wall, a frown on your face.

“Idiot.”

“Douche.”

“Mutt.”

“Soggy sock.”

“Dramatic- did you just call me a soggy sock?” Theo questioned, interrupting his insult with a baffled tone of voice.

You huffed and rolled your eyes at his words only to push his hand away that magically found its way against your thigh.

Theo shifted, knocking over a broom, and slammed his hand above your head against the wall behind you.

“I asked you a question Hondjie,” Theo growled deeply, grasping your chin between his digits. It surprised you- how gentle his fingers were against your skin. His thumb slowly traveled down your jaw to tug at the plush pad of your bottom lip.

His sweet, syrupy scent mixed with leather and the woody aroma of the whiskey he was nursing just a few moments away was intoxicating. The way it wrapped around your form like a blanket made your knees weak and your head spin with need.

His lips fell to your ear, his tongue licking a wet strip along the curve forcing shivers to spill over your spine.

His breath fanned over your neck as he huskily groaned out his next words, “be a good pup and hold still.”

Leonardo

“Leonardo?” You questioned, confusion lacing the waves of your voice.

You had been in this closet all of three minutes and not once had Leonardo said a thing. The only response you received from the polymath was light snoring.

Your eyes widened slightly as your lips parted from your jaw slackening in shock.

How the hell is he sleeping standing up, you thought.

Reaching out a hand to feel his warm chest; his slow breathing pushed your hand out slightly with each intake of breath. Sliding your fingers along his breast you couldn’t help but huff at how broad he was. It felt as if it took forever to finally reach his shoulder to shake him, albeit- you admit- probably a little too roughly, “Leo wake up,” you try again.

Since it was dark in the cramped closet there was no way you would have been able to see, that in fact, Leonardo’s eyes were cracked open, lazy smirk tugging at his lips.

Leonardo shot out an arm to wrap itself around your waist, simultaneously pulling you flush against his body and suffocating you with his addictively sweet scent.

“Quiet now Cara Mia,” he chuckled lowly sending a shiver down your spine at his warm lips tickling your ear.

No matter how much you didn’t want to leave his embrace you struggled against his hold, growling, “don’t you dare-,” the pureblood interrupted you by planting a kiss to the skin of your neck.

“Close your eyes little one,” he whispered reaching up to stroke your hair as your face burned and lips refused to move.

Soon enough his light snores once more shifted through the dark air.

Le Comte

“Ma cherie, you look ravishing tonight.”

His voice snaps you out of your anxious trace

The small utilities closest you both were crammed into was small and dark. Each breath you took forced your chests to brush gently against each other.

Le Comte’s long leg was trapped in between both of yours causing you to practically sit on his knee.

“Thank you Comte, you look very handsome yourself.” My god, you thought, could this be anymore awkward?

The rustle of clothing penetrated your ear drums as you felt his warm fingers ghost over your cheek, lips, and chin to trace the slight jutted bone of your collar, only for his digits to soon grasp your own. Bringing your hand to his lips Comte planted a gentle kiss against your knuckles.

“Relax my dear, I can hear your heart pounding,” he paused after hearing you intake a deep breath. The pureblood leaned foward, his arms wrapping around your waist, hot breath fanning over your neck, his fangs shadowing the curve of your ear, “besides, we have five minutes left- you can decide how they shall progress.”

Arthur

“By Jove you’re a cheeky little minx,” Arthur’s gasps peppered your ear as the clicking of his belt buckle sounded through the air.

The closest was dark and cramped, but your hands still worked diligently to free his throbbing erection, his own fingers working at the buttons of your shirt. You had wanted to wipe that smug grin off his face and so far you had been successful.

“Stop talking and kiss me.”

Arthur didn’t waste anytime fulfilling your request; the moans sliding passed your lips being swallowed by his own.

A guttural groan slipped from Arthur as you shifted your wrist gripping his manhood. His warm, soft lips pecked at the skin of your neck; his wet, pink tongue darting out to taste the sweat on your flesh.

“We have two minutes luv,” choked out the writer as your other hand slid up his heaving chest to squeeze lightly at his neck.

“Well then, we better make them last.”

Let’s just say when you two came out of the closet, the room, originally filled with people, was clear of any other beings.

Napoleon

“Napoleon?”

“Yes nununche?”

“You’re grabbing my butt.”

His hum rumbled deep in his chest, “my apologies, it was an accident.”

“Napoleon, you’re still grabbing my butt.”

“And it’s still an accident.”

Napoleon nonchalant words forced a laugh to tumble from your grinning lips. Tracing the hard curve of his thigh you found your way to his butt and pinched it tightly.

Napoleon took a sharp intake of breath and chuckled quietly, the closet was dark but he could still imagine the grin splitting across your face reaching ear to ear. He leaned forward, noses bumping each other in a quick kiss, and placed a hand above your head against the wall effectively trapping you in place.

Ghosting his lips across your cheek the previous emperor of France stole a small peck on your plush lips, traveling further down until his eyelashes fluttered against the bone of your jaw.

Giggling at the ticklish sensation you grabbed his hips between your digits tugging his warm body closer.

Wet noises assaulted your ears as his soft lips placed opened mouth kisses to the curve of your neck, Napoleon’s fangs circling over your skin like a teasing tango.

Your grip tightened, “- easy there nununche, don’t get too excited now,” Napoleon spoke, his heated whispers blowing through your hair.

“Well damn Leon’ I’m already there.”

Isaac

“Are you okay?”

Isaac was startled at your question. His hands were placed firmly on the wall behind his shivering form, his nails digging at the paint to gain some sort of balance.

You shifted your knee stuck between his thighs causing a choked gasp to tumble past his thinned lips.

“Don’t move-,” Isaac’s strained whisper was followed by a whimper as his grip on the wall slipped. Gravity forced his body down resulting in his clothed cock grazing against your warm leg once more.

He could practically hear your blood pumping at this proximity and it was driving him mad.

Isaac’s fangs pulsed, his throat burned, his eyes watering with embarrassed tears. He squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his jaw. In his mind Isaac spoke a silent prayer to make it out of this god forsaken closet without stripping you bare and making you speak his name like a curse as he gulped down your very life essence.

“Isaac,” you paused your whispering to twist a lock of Isaac’s cherry blossom hair around your finger, enticing a wanton whimper from the flushed male, “you can drink from me. I trust you.”

Suddenly you were pinned to the wall by a heaving, trembling vampire.

“Please forgive me.” Your desperate moans followed soon after.

SHOTS MATERLISTS

MASTERLIST

ABCs SMUT MASTERLIST

[honeypirate]

You write the characters of Fire Force so good omg I am extremely weak and soft for these QwQ can I please request either an imagine or headcanon of where Viktor has a S/O who is typically more self-confident, relaxed/teasing person until Viktor does anything remotely affectionate then S/O just turns into a bright red stuttering mess. They absolutely adore the affection, they're just easily embarrassed with things like this

Okay Okay alright alright cool cool cool

I had fun with this!

I’m glad you like how I write and thank you thank you for this request I hope you like it because it ran away from me and this is how it turned out lol

Viktor Licht x Easily Flustered reader (I went Fem but let me know if you want me to write a different one that’s GN! ❤️)

Viktor I think he’s so goofy and funny I adore him

I think he’d be his normal self around you 90% of the time

Okay more like 80%

but he’d wait for the right time to whisper something in your ear

or slip you a note at work

that makes your heart race and your cheeks flush.

Which isn’t hard to do but he likes to have the element of surprise.

So when you least expect it,

“you look beautiful”

or “your butt looks juicy in that orange jumpsuit” (god idk why I even wrote this my brain went vrrr and couldn’t think of more weird compliments.)

now I don’t know if he’d say something exactly like that (I don’t put it past him)

but I do think he’d say original weird things occasionally just to see your shocked eyes and hear your sweet chuckle

And the way you stutter through syllables before you say “Viktor” and slap his chest playfully.

Bro.

He just loves you okay?

And he loves how sweet and flustered you are just for him.

He sees you confidently tease the others

And Damn you look good doing so

but he knows he can unravel that with just a few well worded phrases.

and sees your self confidence which he ADORES.

It was something he first noticed about you, one of the first things he realized he liked about you

When he first met you, when he came to the eighth, you couldn’t help the warm feeling your heart got whenever you were around him

and he loved the way you’d chuckle at his jokes

he started making more jokes just to hear you laugh.

Then he wanted to make you blush.

Then he realized he wanted to kiss you every time you blushed because of him,

and every time you were teasing the others, when he saw your confidence in your job,

mans just wanted to kiss you.

Physical touch and quality time are his love languages (I personally feel this man is touch starved because he’s so invested in his work that he just pretends and convinces himself he doesn’t care) so that’s how he began to show you he was into you

he’d tuck your hair behind your ear and grin when the familiar flush would appear

or he’d help you with your paperwork just to talk to you and be next to you.

The more time he spent with you the more comfortable you felt around him

but every time you tried to tease him he’d watch your cheeks flush and he couldn’t help but smile.

He asked you out for the first time and you choked on the water you were drinking.

Bad timing on his part which he apologized for but you accepted

because it’s Viktor! How could you say no! He makes your heart warm! he’s so sweet on you!

So now it’s been three months and he’s trying to figure out how to tell you he loves you, he has the perfect idea, he’ll tell you after work tonight, with the perfect moment.

“Oh shush Arthur, you cheated. and you Shinra, you know he cheated so his win means nothing. Now go, both of you, we all have paperwork and no time for this” they both go to their desks, mumbling stuff under their breaths but not continuing their fight anymore. It was a stupid bet about flipping a coin into a cup across the room, you didn’t really understand since you just showed up but you knew Arthur’s tell, he said he didn’t cheat and you knew he was lying by the flick of his hair.

You sigh and finish your cup of coffee before heading to the pot in the corner to refill it. Viktor, who was watching from the doorway, comes over and you refill his cup with a small smile as you make eye contact. “I love it when you do that” he says quietly and you chuckle “do what?” You cock your head and he gives you a lopsided grin “put the kids in their place” he leans in to your ear “it’s kinda hot” he whispers and then pulls back to get a get look at your red blushing face, a lopsided grin on his lips “t-thanks” you manage to stutter out, your heart racing and thumping in your ears as he chuckles and kisses the top of your head before making his way back to his lab.

“You’ve been dating him for what.. three months?” Arthur asks from his paperwork when you sit at your desk “yeah. Why?” He looks up at you with a smirk “and he, Viktor Licht, still makes you flustered?” You glare “oh shut up Arthur” you say and smile sweetly, compared with the fire in your eyes it sends a shiver down his spine “actually. Would you rather I just tell you why he makes me flustered? What he said to me… about how-“ you started to tell him but he plugged his ears as Shinra started screaming. “NO NO NO Arthur SHUT UP. She’s flustered WITH HIM but you KNOW SHE HAS NO PROBLEM TALKING TO US!” Arthur sulks as you chuckle, tucking your hair that fell from your pony back behind your ear.

Before you can finish your paperwork you’re called out to help put some infernals to rest. You were exhausted, you smelled like smoke, and you weren’t up for anything special, he could see the bags under your eyes. So he kissed your forehead and sent you off to a shower, moving his confession to another night.

You saw the emotion in his eyes, something was wrong, but he played it off. So you thought you’d do something special for him. After your shower you swung by his room, walking in when he doesn’t answer your knocks and remembering he had dinner duty. You make your way through the empty room, carefully stepping across the papers strewn about. Sure, you didn’t know what they were, but he certainly did. When you find what you’re looking for you grin and carefully make your way out of his room.

“Psst Hey” you whisper as you stuck your head through the door of the kitchen. He turns around and cocks his head, the apron on his body said ‘kiss the cook’

“Hey sweetheart” he makes this face, one that you’ve seen a lot, one that says ‘what is this beautiful girl doing now?’ “Meet me where we had our second date” you grin and slip out before popping your head back “and do you think you could maybe..” he laughs “bring some food? I’m on it, love” he smiles as he hears your giggles as you walk down the hallway. Maybe he won’t have to wait after all.

ꕥ(Twenty minutes later)ꕥ

“What is this?” His voice was shocked as he stuck his head out the window, looking out at the scene unfolding before his eyes on the roof. soft music playing that he realized was his favorite song, blankets, pillows, a couple candles and you kneeling in the middle in one of his sweatshirts. You were an angel. He loved you so much.

“Remember coming up here to watch fireworks? I know it’s only been three months and that’s not a long time but... well.. when we got back you seemed a little down so I wanted to do something nice but also easy since tonight took a lot out of us” you cheeks flush from feeling embarrassed with doing something semi-big but keeping your eyes on his “So I got your favorite record and my record player, all the blankets and pillows I own, a couple of your sweatshirts, candles, aaaaand” you pull out a bottle of wine you were saving once he settles into the blankets next to you. He leans against the side of the house and he gazes down at you, a bowl of food in each hand.

“You did all of this for me?” He whispers and you nod, your blush fully covering your face as you scoot closer into his side, placing your hands on his knee, leaning up and kissing the corner of his mouth “I love you, Viktor” you whisper, looking down at your hands, butterflies in your chest and your heart thumping in your ears again.

“W-what did you say?” He whispers and you feel your heart drop “I- I said” he shoves the bowls of food out where they won’t be kicked and he turns to sit on his knees in front of you, cupping your cheeks and turning your face up to meet his eye. Your breath hitches at his expression, excited, soft, sweet. “Tell me” he whispers and his thumbs brush against your skin and send goosebumps down the back of your neck.

“I- I said” you swallow hard and pull back your confidence from earlier, gently taking a hold of his wrists, “I said; I love you Viktor” you watch his cheeks flush as he sighs, a peaceful look in his eyes “I love you, so much” he presses his lips to yours softly, warming up your cold ones from sitting outside waiting for him.

Look all I’m saying is Viktor is sweet and goofy and loving and he would he would love to watch your cheeks blush when he’d say sweet things and compliment you

but he’d also want to make sure certain things are perfect, like telling you he loved you. Or your first time wink wink together.

Certain perfect moments that tie together all the goofy, sweet, moments.

The moments where he makes your face flush bright enough to be compared to an infernals flame,

the time you stutter through words after he whispers something in your ear,,,,

but who is he,

or I,

kidding anyone?

Every moment is perfect with you.

Even if they’re hard.

Even that time you tried to tidy the papers in his room and messed everything in his system up.

Or the way you tried to fix it by making the papers rain down around you both, making him laugh before you hugged him and apologized for messing up his system and really helping him fix it again.

Oh God.

Holy Sol

He knows there’s nothing he believes in more than you, more than the love you share, and the fact that his favorite color is the pink dusting your cheeks. The pink that is just for him

[rokutouxei]

touching you i catch midnight

chapter 1 of 2: as moon fires set in my throat

ikemen vampire: temptation in the dark theodorus van gogh / mc; vincent van gogh / mc | G... for now. | 1829

Confronted by newly-developing feelings between two of the most important people in his life, Theo has an equally important decision to make. Lucky for him, it's not that hard to do.

> [sequel to kneel at the altar, confess your sins.] / ao3 link in bio > fic and chapter titles come from audre lorde’s poem, recreation.

You had chosen him.

Over everyone else. He had pushed you away, called you names, made you cry, made you feel small–and yet at the end of it all, you had chosen him. Months later and Theo is still wrapping his head around that fact. How had you seen through him like that? Peeled every layer he’d wrapped around himself to hide the most vulnerable parts of him, only to hold his heart in your hands and say, I won’t let you be alone anymore– how you’d done that is still a mystery to him.

The only other person in the world who has the ability to see him the way you do is Vincent. He hadn’t thought he’d ever find another Vincent in this world to hold him when he’s falling apart. Yet here you are.

So when you and Vincent become easy friends, Theo smiles and believes it has always been something as inevitable as the rising of the sun. Angels make good company for each other, he supposes.

Until it was something else.

Theo trusts Vincent, with his entire heart and soul, with his life, the past one, this, and the next, if there even is any more. So while his guards go up (the same way a guard dog bristles at the presence of an enemy) when the other residents of the mansion are around you, he’s quiet and settled when Vincent is with you. He has no fears or qualms because in his heart, he and Vincent are irrevocably tied; his older brother is an extension of himself.

(A better, brighter extension of himself, but that’s for later.)

When you don’t accompany Theo to work, you go with Vincent, going around town looking for something nice to paint, or sometimes even joining him for longer trips, farther out where the view is different, bringing home stories for Theo to come home to.

One night, Theo arrives late after a long dinner meeting to hear laughter coming from Vincent’s studio-room. A smile gracing his face, Theo knocks and enters the room to see you and Vincent sitting on the couch, easel across the both of you, a streak of paint on your cheek, a flower in your hair.

Theo’s heart squeezes at your smile. You so easily make him weak.

You notice him first, your face brightening at the sight of him, calling out his name–“ Theo!”, his heart is light–and you nearly sprint off the sofa to embrace him. He gives you a little twirl in the air as you begin to talk about the day, going out to the flower fields with Vincent, how he’d called you back to model the flower in your hair so he could paint it with closer detail. The sound of your voice lulls Theo to calm, until–

Until he turns to Vincent.

Who is looking up at his younger brother with guilt in his face, one that he won’t know he’s wearing. The pink dusting his cheeks. His fists are curled on his lap.

It’s like the light turns on in Theo’s mind.

Theo curls his hand around your waist in a near instinctual (territorial) embrace, and while you sigh at the comforting squeeze, your lover pretends he doesn’t see that his brother’s face darkens ever so subtly.

The first piece falls onto his lap.

-

(he doesn’t know it yet, but when the pieces come together, it’ll feel the same way a lived-in house does. in the little apartment in his mind, your little collection of trinkets in a shelf down the hall, vincent’s paintings hanging from the wall, theo’s books. it’ll feel the same way the first rays of the sun feel in the morning, a gentle warmth rising him from sleep, to a delight he’d long kept his eyes closed to. it’ll feel like he’d always belonged.

he doesn’t know it yet, but soon he will.)

-

Theo spends most of his time observing.

Work has trained his senses to perfection. Once he puts his mind onto it, no detail is missed. It’s great for dealing with clients, makes transactions easier, makes things faster to start, deal with, and wrap up.

It makes watching his lover and Vincent slowly dance around each other much easier to watch from the sidelines.

Watches his brother’s face shift and soften whenever you’re around him, in ways he’s never seen before. How his brother’s smiles are different, bigger, all teeth and scrunched eyes. The sound of his brother’s sugar-sweet laughter. This is all Theo’s ever asked for–his brother’s happiness, his brother’s success–and watching you from the balcony overlooking the garden, Vincent’s gaze on your face like longing for something that isn’t his… Theo realizes maybe things haven’t changed since they were kids.

(That Vincent will always put Theo first in everything.

That Theo will give his brother all that Vincent asks him for.)

And while there’s no denying the sour thing that sits under Theo’s tongue as he’s taking this all in, there’s also a kind of hollow that begins to nip at him, the way a question feels in a mouth when it isn’t asked.

Instead, he watches.

Watches you when you go on dates with him and smile that same smile you gave him when you promised you would help carry the weight he had on his shoulders. Burns into his eyes the sight of you–very forgivingly–pouring a cup’s worth of syrup on his pancakes, much to the shock and horror of the cafe’s other patrons. Memorizes your every feature, your every little gesture, the way you tuck a lock of hair behind your ear when you’re shy, the way you lick your lips excitedly when food arrives, the way you squeeze his hand in yours when you walk home.

Theo is sure you love him, and that’s why it takes him a while to understand, the way your cheeks flush when Vincent compliments you, the way you can’t look him in the eye when he puts too much attention on you, the way you let him brush your cheek with his hands gently a moment longer than needed when he’s tucking a flower behind your ear. Theo wants to understand so that the sour feeling goes away, wants to make sense of why you reach out to his brother like you want to hold him in your arms and keep him safe forever–the same you do to him.

Why you look at Vincent like he’s something you can’t have.

(and Theo will give you all that you want if you ask it from him.)

The second piece falls onto his lap.

-

he doesn’t know it yet, but when the pieces come together, it’s like the first time one goes out to the seaside after hiding from the breeze after a long winter. it’s packing away thick coats and heavy blankets in exchange for open windows and bright rays of the sun cutting through the fog. it’s seeing the horizon unravel in front of him, the waves crashing against the shore, the sand warm in between his toes. it’s seeing the infinite possibilities. it’s a sailor opening his arms to the unknown of the wide ocean, knowing the sun and the moon love him enough to bring him soon to gentler shores, if he trusts the direction of the waves.

he doesn’t know it yet, but soon he will.

after all, theo trusts the direction of the waves.

-

He would be lying if he said he’d never had thoughts that one day you’d replace him for his brother.

Half of that statement, of course, is drawn from the deep well of darkness he carries with him in his heart. He can do his best, he can fight for his whole life, but at the end of the day, he is no one in comparison to his brother. He is and always will be only someone working on the sidelines, raising the curtain, focusing the lights; never really the one at the center stage, gaining the cheer and earning the applause of an enthusiastic audience.

To Theo, as long as he is able to partake in the light, that is enough.

To have to step aside to those that are greater than him isn’t an action that’s so hard to comprehend. It is no longer anything more than a dull pain.

So when he thinks of giving you the choice to pick his brother over him, he expects the shallow wash of numbness.

But he’s instead surprised… by how okay he is with it happening.

It takes Theo several nights to fully put together the whirling of thoughts in his mind. Pictures many variations of the same situation, of the same ending, over and over in his head. Next to him, you lay asleep on his bed, your kissmarked shoulder only peeking a little bit from where you’re tucked underneath the sheets.

He holds his hand out to the space in between the both of you.

A space he’s willing to share.

The two people he loves the most in the world loves each other as well–there’s nothing else but support to give, is there?

The third piece falls onto his lap.

The puzzle sits there, complete.

-

Then one night, sitting in the game room after Arthur calls him over, Theo has this unreadable expression, like he hadn’t expected to hear what he’d been told. His lover and his brother… well, to Arthur, the surprise is rather unsurprising. Arthur has the right mind to expect not Theo’s usual bursts of anger, words that cut like knives, but instead a slow crawl to a boil.

What Arthur couldn’t have expected is for Theo to exit the room with a smirk on his face.

-

He doesn’t know it yet, but the angry melody his heartbeat is singing in his ears when he arrives in front of his brother’s bedroom door on the night that will change his life forever–is not out of anger, or fear, or jealousy.

It’s of excitement.

The thrumming of a heart that’s anticipating what it’ll be like to give out all the love it can pour.

-

Theo hears the door open before you do, and he doesn’t have to look to know (he knows his brother too well): Vincent stands in the doorway, his face in the shadows, the silhouettes of his brother and his brother’s lover illuminated by moonlight. His hands curl into fists at his sides, trying to keep himself from just taking what’s been offered to him.

This is for you, Theo wants to say, to you, to his brother, take them, they’re yours. They’re ours.

Like a jigsaw puzzle, you need all the parts to really be complete.

But he has an insolent mouth, one that only knows to express his love with sharp teeth. (A love that you and Vincent have long known how to read.)

“Did you hear that, broer?”

(Here comes.)

----

next part: [ chapter 2 of 2: i love you flesh into blossom ] 

[jornthur]

“Unshaken” Chapter 8

Originally posted: April 11, 2020

Arthur Morgan x Reader, Slow-Burn Romance

Summary: You save a mysterious man who is dying on a mountain. Finding out he has Tuberculosis, you use your knowledge and skills with herbs and natural remedies to save him from death and help nurse him back to health. As he slowly starts to recover, you can’t help but wonder: Who is this man? Why had you found him the way that you did, beaten and ill? Only time, patience … and perhaps love … will tell.

•••••

The food was absolutely delicious.

Fried Muskie, with diced potatoes that you had grown in your garden and thick creamy butter that you’d made from the goats’ milk. You cut another piece out of the fish and placed the meat on your tongue, nearly moaning at the taste. “This is so tasty, Austin!” You said cheerfully as you looked across the table at him.

He smiled at your compliment. “Y’all are the ones that caught the fish, I only cooked them. Not to mention you’re the one who spiced them with those herbs of yours,” he said with a teasing grin, lifting one of his brows in amusement.

It was true, you thought with a smile. Some of the herbs you grew in your garden were not just for medicinal means, but also for adding different tastes. Sage was definitely one of your favorites.

The air was silent as the three of you sat at the kitchen table, the sound of utensils on plates creating the only noise in the cabin for several minutes. You couldn’t help but occasionally look over at Arthur to observe him, studying how he ate. For such an intimidating and large man, he seemed to have delicate manners when it came to eating, wiping his mouth with the napkin whenever he made the smallest of messes. You weren’t sure, but you thought you could see him giving your brother a hairy look from time to time. There was no doubt in your mind what it was for.

Arthur’s passive aggressive glaring at your brother for his earlier interruption was kind of adorable, you thought honestly. You knew he’d been about to kiss you again back in the stables, but Austin had called out to you from the cabin just before his lips had touched yours.

You blushed as you thought about the fact that you actually would have let him kiss you again … that you’d really wanted him to kiss you again. This man you were just getting to know, a man with a mysterious nature and past. A man who was … in all honesty … truly beautiful.

As he was distracted with dinner, you decided to allow yourself to study his features, to take every detail in that you possibly could. His skin was weathered, tanned, scarred in some of the areas that you could see, especially two thick scars that were plainly visible on his chin, preventing any stubble from growing there.

That chestnut-brown hair that swept over his temples looked so soft, as if the strands would feel as silky as flower petals if you ran your fingers through them. His brows were thick, slightly darker than his hair. His short brown beard on his square jaw was scruffy, and you remembered how rough it had felt for that brief moment against your skin. And dammit, those eyes of his … they truly looked like two unique gems, as if emeralds and sapphires had decided to merge and become two multicolored green-and-blue diamonds.

How could any man possess so many gorgeous features at once?

Then finally … those lips, looking so pink and lush like the pink carnation flower. Truly, they looked as soft as one, too. But they had been rough, the feeling of their texture and warmth coming back into your mind. You found yourself suddenly wondering what they would feel like in other places as well …

You shook your head mentally — hard. Why on Earth were you thinking this way about a man you were trying to help recover from a disease that had nearly claimed his life not more than a month ago? You felt ashamed, embarrassed that you would dare have any sort of intimate thoughts about your own patient. Well, not a patient, really, but he might as well be one since you were treating his health. Of course, he’d been the one to kiss you, and … and you had wanted it, but — it wasn’t right. Arthur’s health needed to come first, not your desires.

“So, Arthur,” Austin’s voice interrupted your thoughts, bringing you back into reality. You looked over to see that both Arthur and Austin had actually finished their meals, while you were still only halfway done. How long had you been daydreaming?

Arthur turned his gaze to look at Austin, his deep drawl a soft rumble, “Yeah, feller?”

Austin set his utensils down on the table, reaching out for the napkin to wipe it across his own mouth and chin. He set it down and took a deep breath, as if he were bracing himself for what he was about to say next. After a few moments he finally met Arthur’s gaze, “I know I mentioned this earlier, but I was wonderin’ … if you could take me hunting tomorrow mornin’? Show me how to track and kill game properly? I thought the sooner we could start, the better.” He looked back down at his empty plate, as if he were nervous about Arthur’s answer. He was scratching his cheek again, that gesture he made every single time he was nervous.

You knew what was going through Austin’s mind. For the past month your brother had been nothing but a dumbass, in all honesty. Showing no manners or respect for the man in any form whatsoever. You knew he had his own reasons, but to you they were more like excuses. Arthur hadn’t deserved to be treated by Austin the way he had. Not in the least bit. Even though Arthur had offered the favor earlier, Austin still seemed hesitant to be asking him about it.

Then abruptly you absorbed his words and their meaning. “Absolutely not, Austin!” You said firmly before Arthur could say anything, placing your utensils down hard. You couldn’t help it, but you felt a little bit of anger sweep through you. Arthur was still sick, his body still fighting off the remaining bacteria that was left in his body. There was absolutely no way you were going to let him go out there in the wilderness where there were unknown dangers. Out there, he was at so much risk of getting hurt. What if he got attacked by a wild creature? What if he slipped and fell off a cliff? What if he drowned? What if he got himself cut on a branch? What if —

You paused, realizing that some of your worries were actually getting rather ridiculous. But … still … you found yourself deeply concerned for his safety. Since his body was still medicated, it wouldn’t be able to handle much adrenaline. God forbid, what if they ran into something like a grizzly bear on their hunting trip? Any wounds a wild creature could inflict on Arthur could possibly hurt his chances of recovering fully. He needed every ounce of strength, every drop of blood he possessed if he was going to heal fully.

Austin looked over at you, a stunned expression on his face from your sharp reaction. Even Arthur turned his head to meet your furious eyes.

“Arthur needs rest, alright? That’s all I want him to worry about, you’re just goin’ to have to make do with what you know for the next few months, alright?” You shook your head, lowering your eyes to your half-finished plate. “I mean, you’ve been huntin’ on your own for three years, what’s a few more months?” You took several more bites to keep from saying something you might regret.

“Y/N, it’s nearing the end of September now … it’ll be winter before he’s even fully recovered. I thought that maybe the sooner I can get better at huntin’, the sooner and quicker I can be with catchin’ what we need to stock up for the winter season.”

Shaking your head again, you lifted your gaze to look him straight in the eyes, letting him know exactly how upset you were. “Austin, if he goes out there and gets hurt, it’s going to effect how his body will heal.”

“Y/N,” Your brother’s voice lowered in tone, as if he were trying to push some sort of reason onto you, “I just want him to teach me how to track. I swear we won’t do anything more than that.”

Arthur intervened before you could answer. “Guess I’m up for that,” he said as he lifted his shoulders in a single shrug, scratching at his jaw with the back of his thumb, “would be a welcome change to get out of this cabin for awhile, get a lay of the land.”

Your eyes widened at his response and you jerked your head in his direction, shooting him a glare. “Arthur! I need you to stay here and rest!” You weren’t yelling at him yet, but dammit, you were about to if they both kept acting like idiots with this stupid idea. Didn’t they realize how risky this was?

“Dammit, woman, I’ll be fine,” Arthur groaned with a sigh of exasperation, his face already looking exhausted as if he didn’t want to argue, “I’ve been cooped up here for too damn long, anyway. It’s ’bout time I head out there and see some of the world again.” He reached an arm up and ran his fingers through his hair, pushing some of it back from his face. “I’ll tell you what, darlin’, if we promise to keep to just trackin’, will you let me leave then?” His blue eyes lifted to yours at his question, waiting for your answer.

After he shot a glare at Arthur for calling you that endearment again, Austin turned to look at you with hope in his eyes, no doubt waiting for a yes as well.

You lowered your head, using your fork to play with the food left on your plate. Arguing with your brother was one thing, but even Arthur wanted to get out of here, you thought worriedly. But truly, could you actually blame him? He’d been stuck here for weeks, barely seeing what was outside the walls of this cabin. It would probably be good for him to get out there for a while.

‘Get a lay of the land,’ as he put it.

The only problem that kept you from wanting to accept his wish, however, was the fact that you knew his body wouldn’t be able to handle any danger they might come across. Adrenaline was a terrible thing on a weak body, and stress could negatively effect any sort of healing process an animal body was going through, so why would a human body be any different? If anything terrible happened, if he ended up having to defend himself from a wild attack, his body and muscles could actually have major problems. What medicine and herbs were running through his system would get his heart and blood pumping too fast, risking any number of things.

But even with all your concerns, you knew that no matter what you said, Arthur would still probably not listen, so why not just give him the freedom he wanted? It was better than denying it from him, especially if he was going to take it anyway. You knew that he was just that kind of man, that no one could truly keep him from doing what he wanted to do, no matter who they were.

You were extremely worried though, so you were going to try and strike a deal with them. You let out a deep breath, raising your gaze back up to meet both men. “I’ll make a deal with you.”

They both looked at you expectantly.

“As long as you don’t travel too far. No more than two miles, you hear me? And keep close to the trails. If I somehow find out that you travelled off of them, I will poison you with my herbs myself, Austin. Do you hear me?” Your tone was completely stoic, demanding absolutely no nonsense. Of course you would never actually kill you older brother, but Arthur’s safety was your top priority. And if anything ended up happening to him under your brother’s watch? You would definitely make sure that Austin would live to regret it. “And there will be absolutely no hunting. I’ll let you take your gun with you for defense, but don’t you dare think about huntin’ any large game, you hear me? Tracking only.”

Austin’s face positively glowed, completely unfazed by your threatening tone. “Thank you so much, sis. I swear to you we will do everything you ask.”

“Which is … ?” You wanted to clarify that your brother memorized and knew everything you’d asked of him to do.

“No more than two miles, stick to the trails, no huntin’ allowed, trackin’ only.” He listed them off with his fingers, lifting them up one by one with each demand. Arthur smiled in amusement, as if he were entertained by the minor quarrel the two of you were having.

You nodded then stood up, clearing the dishes off of the table and sticking everything in the sink. “Arthur,” you said as you turned the faucet on to begin washing the plates. “After I’m done here, I need you ready for another check-up, alright?”

Arthur sighed roughly as he leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, “You sure I need another so soon?” He asked, looking over at you with a playful but annoyed look in his eyes as he lifted a single dark brow, his voice carrying slight indignation in his tone. “I feel fine, woman. Also I’m gettin’ pretty sick of those things.”

“Yes, and you will get sick — even more so — if you don’t let me do them.” You kept your response firm, authoritative. He needed to know that you weren’t going to take any more crap from either of them, especially tonight. You had just agreed to let Austin take Arthur out of the cabin and far out into the wilderness, where possible dangers lurked. No amount of words or promises was ever going to comfort you for the rest of the night, not until they returned home safe and sound from their trip tomorrow. “So, if you’d be so kind,” you said sweetly, rather with some venom to go with that sugar, “I would greatly appreciate it if you would go into the sitting room and get yourself comfortable.” You pointed toward the door to the sitting room with the large knife you were holding, shooting sharp darts at him with your gaze.

He grinned at your response, obviously entertained by the big-boss-lady you had turned into. He held his hands up in surrender. “Alright, alright. Dammit, darlin’,” he said, standing up from his chair.

Austin glared up at him, “I thought I told you to stop callin’ my sister that, cowpoke.”

Arthur looked down at him, his large stature giving off nothing but threatening intimidation. “Now you need to shut that damn mouth of yours unless you want to lose them teeth, son.” He growled, and Austin’s eyes widened, a hint of fear showing in them. But Arthur just grinned and patted Austin’s shoulder hard with an open palm. “I’m just needlin’ ya, boah. I know you’re just protectin’ your sister.” He tucked a hand on his belt as he made his way into the sitting room, mindfully closing the door behind him.

Austin looked back at you, giving you a weird smile. “You know, Y/N, in all honesty, that man looks more and more dangerous with each passin’ day.”

“And yet you’re goin’ on a huntin’ trip with him tomorrow,” you teased, unable to let out a small laugh as you finished up washing the last utensil and placed it on the drying rack. “A little one-on-one time with the big, dangerous man. Lucky you.” You turned to face him, propping your hip against the counter of the sink as you crossed you arms, narrowing your eyes at your brother. “Now don’t you dare think that I’m in the least bit happy about this.”

His smile lowered, turning into a frown, “I know you’re not, Y/N. But we need to start thinking about this. Autumn is nearly here, and then it’s going to be winter. It will be much harder to hunt during that time. We both know it, we’ve been through it before, and now that there’s three of us, well — ” He reached around his head and rubbed at the back of his neck. “I need to start stocking up what I can find. Plus, if Arthur starts showin’ me how to track early on, it might give me a better chance of huntin’ in the winter time.” He lowered his eyes for a second, then raised them back up at you after a few moments, “Arthur’s probably not going to stay with us forever, you know.”

Those last words slammed into your heart like a bag of bricks, slashing through your chest like a hundred daggers. Even though you knew your brother was right, you didn’t like to think about that inevitable fact.

You didn’t want to think about Arthur leaving, and truly that thought surprised you … this man you barely knew, who’d been living with you for less than a month … and you already couldn’t bear the thought of him being gone.

But eventually, once Arthur was fully recovered, you were certain he was going to leave. As far as you knew, he had never mentioned anything about permanently staying after he was better. The thought of him no longer being here actually scared you, and you shook your head hard. “I know what you’re saying, Austin, I just want him to be safe.”

Your brother nodded, and he stood up slowly, making his way around the table to walk over to you and pull you into a hug. “I understand what you’re feeling, Y/N. I promise you, we’ll stick to the trails, and we won’t do anything stupid, alright?”

You nodded against his chest, accepting his warm embrace as you wrapped your arms around him to return the hug. “Thank you, Austin. I’m sorry, I’m just very worried for him.”

“I know.”

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Arthur sat on the large couch, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, watching the flames in the fireplace as they licked greedily at the firewood, all the while waiting for Y/N to come in and start another check-up on him. He looked down at his inner arm, noting all the tiny holes that had healed where she kept sticking those damn needles in. Dammit, his Tuberculosis was going to leave scars on him in more ways than one. There was no doubt about that, he thought with a sigh.

But of course, he’d rather have scars than be dead, he thought. Though, if he were completely sincere with himself, he would somewhat actually prefer death over some of them … such as his memories. He couldn’t bear to think about all he’d lost, the pain of emptiness like an aching black hole in his heart.

Arthur knew that he eventually had to decide what he was going to do with his life once he was fully recovered, now that there was no longer anything or anyone to go back to.

He’d thought several times about staying here with Y/N and Austin, at least for a little while. He knew he needed to repay them for all they’d done for him in what ever way he could, but there was no way he would allow himself to stay permanently. He refused to become a burden on them. He wasn’t going to let himself take advantage of their hospitality after his body was completely healed. Hell, he felt like a useless idiot even now.

Arthur closed his eyes in a sigh, thinking back to that mountain again, doing his best to remember every single thing that had happened. He recalled sending John away before facing off with Micah and Dutch. He remembered Dutch turning his back on him despite the years of service and loyalty that Arthur had given him. After that, all he could remember was trying to crawl, dragging his body across the hard and cold ground until it had completely given out, his muscles shutting down as he’d felt his heart start to slow, his breath becoming more and more shallow as he’d collapsed … turning his face to watch the sun just as it had begun to peak over the horizon.

All he could remember after that was a peculiar taste on his tongue, and the feeling of being lifted into the air. The next time he’d opened his eyes, he could barely make out the face of a woman sitting by his side, and they’d engaged in some kind of conversation before he had passed out again.

This was all so strange, he thought. He was supposed to be dead, and he damn well knew it.

Yet it was absolutely undeniable; this woman had saved his life, and he was still here. Arthur ran a hand across his face, rubbing at his forehead. What the hell was he ever going to do now, he still wondered.

Suddenly he thought of John again, and about the dreams he’d been having of late. Was there some sort of meaning to them that he wasn’t able to pick up on? Why were the dreams always of a deer? What the hell was going on in his mind that he somehow wasn’t aware of?

His thoughts were suddenly interrupted when the kitchen door opened, Austin and Y/N walking through. The man nodded at him as he walked by, heading down the hallway to his bedroom and shutting the door behind him. Arthur looked over at Y/N, reading her somber expression as she walked over to gather supplies from her desk. What the hell had gone down between them, he asked himself. She looked sad for some reason, and he wanted to find out why.

She came over to him and placed the tray of supplies on the nightstand, sitting on the couch next to him. “Alright, Arthur, it’s time,” she said, her voice sounding soft and patient, not matching her sad expression in the least bit.

Arthur turned his upper body to face her as she put on the stethoscope and started running the disk over his chest. “You okay?” He asked, curious as to what might’ve transpired to put her in the mood she was in now. Of course he’d left the room when she’d been slightly upset. But this seemed different, as if she’d been told some sort of terrible news. What, though? He turned to gaze down the hall. Had her brother done or said something to hurt her? Just the possibility alone started to boil his blood. “Austin didn’t do somethin’ to hurt you, did he?”

She snapped her head up to meet his gaze, surprise in her eyes and in her voice, “Of course not, Arthur. Why would you think that?”

He lowered his eyes to watch her move the disk around his chest. “I don’t know, you just seem — ” He shrugged, “Ah, never mind.”

She lifted her lips in a small smile, “Well, thank you for your concern, but I’m fine. Austin didn’t do anything, so don’t you worry, alright? Now take some deep breaths for me, you know how it goes.”

Arthur felt his lips stretch into an amused grin as he did as she asked, taking in as much air as he could into his lungs before letting it back out. He wasn’t sure he entirely believed her, but he would leave it alone for now, unless she decided to speak about it any further at some point.

“So,” she said as she pulled the disk away, taking off the stethoscope and placing it back on the tray. “Arthur, your heart and lungs are sounding really good. I’m very proud of how well your body has responded to the treatments.” She looked back at him as she held up an empty hypodermic needle for him to see. “Now we’re going to try something a little different tonight — I need to take some of your blood.”

Arthur’s heart skipped at those words. This was definitely new. What the hell did she need to draw his blood for?

As if Y/N had read his mind, she added, “Once I get some of your blood, I can analyze it with my microscope to see how much Tuberculosis bacteria is still left in your body. This procedure is what I use in order to tell how an animal is doing during its healing process … it should be about the same for a human.” She looked away when she said that last part.

Was that a hint of nervousness he’d detected in her tone?

“Well … ,” Arthur studied her features for a bit before he finally decided to give in, resting his arm on his thigh palm-up. “Have at it, then, honey.”

He trusted her. She’d never given him any reason not to.

She smiled at him gratefully, before she leaned over and disinfected the area on his skin with pure alcohol, wiping it clean with a fresh cloth.

Bringing the tip of the needle over his skin, she prodded around with her finger until she found his thick vein, and then pushed the point in. Arthur flinched, grimacing and releasing a deep grunt as she pulled back the plunger, slowly drawing his blood into the tiny glass barrel.

After several seconds passed, she finally pulled the needle out and pushed the cloth against the small fresh wound she’d left behind to keep any more blood from escaping. “Could you hold that in place for me, please?” She asked him.

Arthur obliged her, pushing the thing down hard with his other hand. She gave a nod of appreciation and stood up, bringing the vial that was now filled with his blood over to the large metal microscope on her desk. She dispensed the blood into some kind of glass tray before placing it underneath the lens, looking through the scope. He watched as she played around with his blood using a small metal tool, stirring it around.

He found himself extremely curious with her actions. “Just what are you doin’ there?” Arthur asked.

She didn’t answer, appearing to be lost in some kind of deep thought. Her expressions changed as moments passed by, as if she were thinking really hard about whatever she was seeing. Once she was finished, she stepped back and took everything over to the sink to to clean and disinfect them. Completing that task, she washed her hands and walked back over to him. “Well, Arthur,” she said as she sat back down next to him, she turned her gaze to his as she spoke the next words. “I do still see a little bit of bacteria left in your blood, but I expected that, so it’s no surprise. What’s still there appears to be dying off, they looked very weak, but it’ll be at least another couple of months before everything is all cleared up … I would really rather you stay here tomorrow, but I’ll leave that up to you.” She raised a hand to rub at her shoulder, as if she were trying to hold herself back from adding anymore onto that last statement.

Arthur looked at her, baffled. “You could see it in my blood?” He couldn’t help the gravel in his voice from the surprise he felt.

Y/N nodded, “Of course, microscopes are incredibly helpful when it comes to seeing what our naked eyes can’t.”

Arthur found himself unable to say anything so he just nodded, feeling like a complete dumbass sitting next to a woman that kept managing to surprise him. Truly, she was too damn smart for her own good, he thought, unable to even begin to understand her way of thinking and how she saw the world.

After a long silent moment passed between them, Y/N reached back over to the tray and held that familiar pot out to him again, but this time she didn’t meet his gaze as he took it from her hand.

“More honey, huh?” Arthur couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle, lifting the lid and grabbing the spoon from the jar. She didn’t say anything as he began taking the sweet substance into his mouth. Apparently honey was truly one of nature’s strongest natural remedies for treating Tuberculosis, who the hell knew?

As he focused on the taste, he found himself thinking about something else that was just as sweet, something else he would like to taste. Someone else. A certain kind of other honey. Arthur lowered his eyes to stare down at Y/N’s lips as he swallowed, studying how luscious they looked, thinking again about how soft they’d felt against his own.

Dammit, what the hell was wrong with him? He squeezed his eyes shut, his brows tightening. He barely knew this woman, so why did he find himself so drawn to her? Because she’d saved his life? Because she was helping to cure him of a deadly disease? Because she was possibly the smartest person he’d ever met? … Because she was absolutely beautiful … ? … Because she’d shown him more tenderness and care than anyone else ever had in a long time … ? He lifted his lids to look at her again, and she blushed. She must’ve read his expression, and he wondered what his face looked like to bring out that reaction in her.

Suddenly she cleared her throat, standing up from the couch. “Um — I have something for you.” She left the sitting room and disappeared down the hallway, leaving him alone to feel like a complete idiot. Of course he’d scared her off, he thought, completely unsurprised and wanting to punch himself in the face for doing so.

A minute later she came back with some kind of large dark red cloth in her hands. “I meant to give this to you sooner, but I wasn’t sure you wanted them since you already had the other pair.” She came over and held it out to him. Arthur took it and spread out the soft cloth to see that it was a dark red union suit. He lifted his gaze up to hers, giving her a questioning look, “You’re givin’ this to me?”

She lifted a finger to her hair to twirl around in her strands, as if she were nervous, “Well, I placed an order in the catalog for my brother before we moved up here, but when it came in it was too big for him. He didn’t mind though, said he really appreciated the thought but he wasn’t really of fan of red, anyways. Of course I ordered him another one after that, that one ended up suiting him perfectly and it was his favorite color: dark blue.” She let out a small giggle and gestured at the union suit. “This should fit you just fine. Neither of us have any use for it, so I want you to have it.”

She looked nervous, like she was waiting for him to turn it down. But he wasn’t going to do that. “Well, thanks for the gift, Y/N,” he said as he gave her a grateful smile, folding the cloth up and placing it on his lap. “I think red’s a great color,” He patted the cloth, “looks good on just about anythin’, if you ask me.”

She let out a small laugh, which lifted his spirits. Her laugh was truly one of a kind, a sweet little jingle that heated his blood. “I’ll go ahead and take your clothes for you after you’ve put it on, I’m planning on doin’ laundry tonight anyways.”

Arthur squinted at her, “Need any help with that, honey?”

She blushed slightly, turning her eyes away. Arthur knew he was never going to get tired of calling her that, if only to see that same adorable reaction every time. “No, thank you. It’s not a hassle, really. It allows me some time to think. Just leave your clothes sitting outside and I’ll see to them.” She fiddled with the collar of her blouse, then said sweetly, “Well, anyway, you have a good night, Arthur.” She looked at him then, and her eyes glowed as those lips lifted into another beautiful smile.

Damn, he wanted so badly to kiss her again, he thought, he wanted to taste those lips of hers once more. But before he could think to make any sort of move, she turned away and made her way back towards the kitchen.

Arthur watched as she shut the door softly behind her, leaving him alone on the large couch.

He looked down at the soft red fabric she’d just gifted him with. Running his hand across it, he noted how silky and smooth the texture felt underneath his fingers. There was no doubt in his mind that this cloth had definitely cost a pretty penny. So she had ordered this before she’d moved up here?

Arthur remembered her talking about having grown up on a plantation, and he found himself wondering where exactly she was truly from. Who was she really, he thought. Did she actually come from a family of wealth? If so, what exactly happened that made her want to leave? He recalled her saying something about ‘not wanting to stay cooped up’ there. But that couldn’t be all there was to it, so what was the true reason? He couldn’t fathom why anyone would want to give up a life of luxury to live out in the damn woods …

If anything, Arthur thought, she was just as mysterious to him as he no doubt was to her.

Later that night

Arthur found himself standing in the middle of a heavy fog, unable to see anything past the thick haze surrounding him. He looked around, but there was absolutely nothing. No sound, no voices, just complete silence. Where the hell was he now?

Suddenly the sound of a stick snapping resonated in the distance, and Arthur jerked his head in the direction he’d heard it from. But nothing seemed to give itself away, and he started to feel his agitation grow. “Who’s out there?” He shouted, swiping violently at the thick mist with his arms, trying to take a few steps forward as he did so.

A wet drop landed on his cheek, and Arthur looked up. It was starting to snow, the frozen drops beginning to fall slowly from the sky around him, and the ground beneath him quickly began to get covered in a thick blanket. What in the damn hell was going on? He squinted, trying his best to see anything, anything at all, but he could see nothing but the color white. White fog, white ground, white snow, white sky. Why was there so much damn white?

Feeling nearly helpless, though he hated to think of himself in that term, Arthur began to walk forward, taking one slow step at a time. He wasn’t sure what he would walk into, or hell, there was probably a large cliff up ahead for all he knew, but he couldn’t stay here. He continued swiping at the fog in an effort to clear up a small path in front of him, but the effort did nothing to help clear his vision what so damn ever.

Time seemed to pause, and Arthur kept moving, feeling the snow land on his shoulders and hair as he continued through the fog.

Arthur stopped, spotting a dark shadow in the distance. From what he could barely make out, it looked like a creature of some kind … the deer again? He moved closer, crouching low to the ground in hopes of not spooking it as he slowly began to approach. As the distance grew shorter, the fog began clearing up, and Arthur suddenly found himself mesmerized.

Not a deer.

It was a wolf.

The dark creature had long, greasy black fur, and Arthur couldn’t see its face as it wandered over the peak of a tall hill off in the distance, sniffing at the cold ground as if it were searching for something. The wolf didn’t seem to notice him, but Arthur could sense some sort of strange feeling coming from the creature, as if it was lost or afraid, or maybe both. It even looked like it was ready to attack anyone that came near it to defend itself.

He took another step towards it, somehow feeling drawn to its presence. Despite not making a sound, the wolf’s head jerked up and looked in his direction, and Arthur stilled, his heart feeling like it had suddenly stopped beating in his chest.

Two large scars ran across the right side of the wolf’s face … its eyes — they were completely white, as if it was blind?

Could it see anything?

The wolf growled, baring its sharp teeth in his direction. Arthur raised his hands up, an attempt to try and tell the creature that he meant no harm — even though he had no clue why doing so was his first thought.

The dark creature crept backwards, withdrawing slowly as if it were afraid of him, but shouldn’t it be the other way around?

Arthur somehow felt compelled to approach, and he tried to move forward in an effort to get closer.

The wolf sprinted, turning its tail away as it fled from him.

“Wait!” Arthur called out, and suddenly he was able to run, drifting quickly through the heavy snow and fog so he didn’t lose sight of the black wolf. He had no idea why he was chasing after it, but hell, there was nothing else here! And those scars …

As he ran through the fog, tall trees began to appear. One to his left, two to his right, until he was running through a dense snow-covered forest.

Arthur stopped in his tracks, trying to catch his breath. There was a sudden sharp pain in his lungs, and he felt like he could barely breathe. He looked around as he panted, and he saw the wolf standing not too far off.

It had stopped. Its ears were perked up, and it appeared as though it had spotted something.

Arthur squinted in the direction it was looking … and there he saw the deer.

The large animal was grazing at a small patch of green grass, the only color in this world of black and white, as if it was the only source of life here. Arthur looked back over at the wolf, and he noticed that it suddenly looked hungry.

His eyes widened and he tried to move forward, somehow compelled to stop the impending attack.

But that’s not what happened.

No.

The deer lifted its head from the grass and looked over at the wolf, as if it had known all along that the feral beast was nearby.

Arthur noticed it instantly — the deer had his own eyes again. That familiar reflection of blue adding color to the land devoid of any other next to the green grass. It was almost as if it represented something, but for what? The deer? The wolf?

The wolf and deer seemed to take each other in.

Long moments passed, and Arthur couldn’t move, his body caught in some kind of invisible hold.

The black wolf began to creep forward, and the deer actually took a step in the predator’s direction. Both of the animals seemed to hesitate at first, but as they drew closer to each other, some kind of bond began to form.

The deer leaned forward as the wolf reached out, each of their noses nearly touching as they stared at one another, cloudy eyes meeting blue.

Silence.

Both of the creatures seemed at peace, as if they understood each other in some kind of mysterious way. The deer lifted its head away and began walking in no particular direction, merely meandering as the wolf decided to follow.

Arthur felt his body suddenly start to become air, as if he were being lifted into some kind of haze as he watched the unlikely pair saunter side by side through the trees.

What happened next, Arthur couldn’t explain.

A sharp gunshot sounded out, followed by a loud thunderous noise that echoed through the sky like a storm. Both of the animals jerked their heads, as if they had no clue where the ominous sounds had come from. The deer nudged the wolf’s neck and began to run, the wolf following close behind. Arthur felt himself being carried with them, an invisible aura able to do nothing but spectate what played out before him.

The two ran for days, it felt like. Weeks, months, years … What was only just a short time felt as though it stretched on forever, and they just kept on running, continuing to dodge whichever direction the repeating gunshots were coming from. Faster and faster they ran together, until the land around them was nothing but a white and gray blur.

That gray blur suddenly became green, and the sky turned from white to blue. Soon after the deer and the wolf suddenly ran into a clearing of open grassy fields, the land beyond completely covered in lush greenery and flora. They ran until both of them reached a cliff.

The wolf stopped right on the edge, but the deer leapt over it and into the air, suddenly fading away, disappearing abruptly from the wolf’s side into a glimmering gold mist.

The black wolf was left alone to stand over the tall cliff, looking down on what lied before him. Arthur looked over the landscape, taking in what the wolf saw.

It was some kind of ranch, a place that somehow felt welcoming and safe … he looked over at the wolf and saw them then and there.

John’s clear brown eyes.

•••••

— To Be Continued

[lornashore]

Happy Halloween Carnival

Summary: An Arthur Fleck reader insert. You bring him over to your house for some halloween fun!

A/N: Halloween is most definitely my favorite holiday so this was incredibly fun to write! As we all know, Arthur deserves the best so I’m giving him a wonderful Halloween. Happy Halloween everyone!

Arthur watched out the window at the trees as the car sped down the empty street, observing all the gold and wine colors of the leaves. He had never seen such vibrant colors before, being used to the dull, drizzly days surrounded by the grey buildings of Gotham.

As you brought the car to a stop at a red light, you turned toward him for a moment, gently squeezing his knee. He looked at you, smiling brightly, clear excitement showing on his wrinkled features. 

“Is this where you live?” He asked, motioning to the small neighborhood that was across from the long line of trees. 

“I do. In fact you can see my house from here.” You said, pointing to a yard that was lit up by an orange and purple glow. Arthur's feet began to bounce up and down, unable to keep his nerves contained any longer. You giggled at him when he leaned forward in his seat to see the yard as you drove closer to it, pulling into the driveway and shutting off the engine. His features brightened even more when he was finally able to see your house in full view before him, exiting the care as swiftly as his feet would allow. He had always wanted to be able to decorate for holidays like this, but between his job and mother, he never found the time or reason to. 

“Do you like it?” You asked him, wrapping your arm around his thin, boney waist. 

“Yes of course! I think this little guy here is my favorite.” He said, pointing to a short, pudgy zombie jester sitting on one of your steps. Leaning forward, he reached out, grazing his hands over the blood soaked hair on his head when suddenly, the figure spun towards him. It’s pupils lit up red and a high pitched laugh sounded from the internal speaker, making Arthur startle, standing up straight.

“Happy Halloween!” The animatronic cackled, and Arthur laughed along with it, no longer frightened by the sudden movement. 

“He’s motion censored, so anyone who walks past will get a frightful greeting! He’s one of my favorites too.” You said, leading Arthur up to your front door with your two grocery bags in hand and Arthur's overnight pack slung over your shoulder. He ducked beneath the fake webbing you strung all across the front deck, smiling when he noticed sparkly black bats and ghosts hanging from the roof. 

Once you entered your home, you switched on the lights, revealing more of your spooky decor. A large cardboard coffin leaned against the wall in the entry room, lid ajar with two skeleton hands clung to it. You noticed him observing it and smirked as you plugged in the fog machine that was hidden within. He took a few steps back when he noticed the artificial mist  collect around his feet. 

“We’ll be leaving this on once the trick or treating starts. For now, come help me with these. I still have to fill up the candy bowl.” You said, taking Arthur by the hand and into your kitchen where you had a large plastic bowl decorated by white skulls setting on the counter. 

“Here, can you fill that up for me?” You asked, handing him two large sacks of candy. He

did as you asked, stealing a couple pieces for himself when your back was turned. 

“For now we can keep this on the little table next to the front door. Otherwise, let’s go get into our costumes!” You said, watching as he placed the bowl where you instructed and followed you to your bedroom. 

You reached into the bag, taking your costume from it. Looking at the picture on the front of the package, you smiled at the soft rainbow colored clown costume Arthur had chosen for you. It wasn’t your first choice, but meeting those large blue orbs and puffed bottom lip, you couldn’t say no. He wanted to be a clown couple, so that’s what you intended to do. You changed quickly, seeing him deeply focused in your vanity mirror, his makeup and brushes strewn out in front of him, 

You approached him, observing how the brush glided across his skin with an experienced hand. He paused for a moment to look at you, in your colorful polka-dotted dress and matching bow. 

“I was right. You do look really cute in that.” He spoke softly. A light blush coated your face at his compliment, knowing he was doing the same despite the white paint that fully covered his cheeks. Leaning forward, you wrapped your arms around his neck, resting your head against the side of his. He grasped onto your arms and kissed you softly there, still watching you. 

“All you need now is a bit of paint.” He said, turning towards you. 

“Oh..no I think It’ll be ok. You can finish yours.” You told him, not knowing where to begin as far as makeup went. You didn’t know the first thing about coming up with a look like that. 

“Mines all done though. Please? I really want to do yours. I have plenty here.” He said. And again, you didn’t have the heart to tell him no. 

You took a seat beside him on the two seater bench, closing your eyes so he could do whatever he wanted with the greasepaint. The gentle strokes of the brush relaxed you more than you thought it would, and you tried your best to imagine in your mind what he was drawing. When he was finished, he turned you towards the mirror. 

You opened your eyes and studied your now painted face. The heart shaped pastel pink lips, matching cheeks, painted freckles, and an impressively detailed sun painted over your left eye tied it all together. You blushed again beneath the makeup, seeing your reflections side by side made you realize again how much he truly loved you, and loved spending moments like these together. The thought made your heart race, wishing the moment could last forever. 

“One last thing.” He reached into his pocket for the spare red nose that never came with the costumes. He wanted you to feel like a real, professional clown like him, even if it were just for a night. With one hand, he turned your head towards him so you couldn’t see yourself anymore. You closed your eyes as well, remembering what he told you before about how one should never see the nose be put on. He did the same, and then pressed the puffy red ball to your nose, tying the string around the back of your head to secure it. Once again, he directed you towards your reflection. You opened your eyes and immediately they went wide, a shy grin slightly crinkling your painted skin seeing the costume completely done and ready. 

“I think we should call you...Loonetta.” He said after a moment of pause. You giggled, covering your mouth with one hand. 

“Look at you, you’re so cute! There’s no need to be shy.” His voice was high pitched as he spoke, now fully into his character. With both hands, he took your hands in his and began to dance. You moved along with him, humming an unknown tune out of key as you stepped in time with him. He spun you a few times, holding you close to his rigid frame and kissed the back of your neck. Even with the paint you thought his lips felt warm, leaving tingles on the cool flesh. You relaxed into him, still swaying back and forth in your bedroom, not wanting the moment to end. 

The doorbell jingle brought you back to the present. You quickly dashed off smiling wide at the clown that was close on your heels. 

“Who could be here at this time?” Carnival asked you. You paused at the door before opening it to turn to him. 

“Just wait, I know you’ve never seen this before.” He cocked his head at your words, wondering what it was that he missed in your yard. You opened the door when you heard the bell ring again, stepping aside so he could see. 

    “Trick or Treat!” The small group of kids said in unison, holding their buckets and pillow cases out in front of them. Unsure of what to do next, he glanced over at you, then back at the expectant children. 

“It’s ok, give them each a piece of candy from the bowl!” You instructed. And he did, happily, waving as he watched them walk back down the drive and onto the next house. 

“Where did all these kids come from?” He asked, looking out at the many bodies crowding the street. You giggled at how silly he seemed, standing so close to the door that his nose almost pressed against the glass. 

“It’s always this busy on Halloween! This year is actually more so then last. I hope I bought enough to last the whole night.” You said, eyeing the bowl that was once almost overfull now slowly losing its contents. You stepped out onto your front porch, propping the door open just as another group of kids approached. 

“Trick or Treat!” They shouted from halfway up the yard. Immediately Carnival stepped beside you with the bowl in his hands. He dropped a piece in every bag that was held out to him with a different sound effect each time. One little girl in particular dressed as snow white found him to be very entertaining. She didn’t leave with the others and clapped her hands together when he produced a long string of handkerchiefs from his jacket sleeve. He beamed at this, clearly having the time of his life on that very night.

“What’s your name?” She asked, pointing at him with a tiny finger. 

“Why, my name is Carnival! And this here is my companion, Loonetta!” He said, wrapping his arm around your shoulder. 

Suddenly, the little girl approached him, arms outstretched and her candy sack left on the wood stair. She tightly wrapped her arms around one of his knees, resting her head there for a moment. 

“I love you Carnival.” She said, tightening her grip. I looked at his face just in time to see a tear slip past his lashes, clearly surprised and touched by this child's kindness. 

“Lucy! Geez, I’m so sorry. She doesn’t understand boundaries yet.” A curvy blond lady said, rushing towards the little girl that was still latched to Arthur's limb. 

“It’s quite alright. She’s very sweet!” He leaned down then to pat the top of her head. “And you know what? I think I know what you would like.” He straightened his posture, placing his heels together before pulling a bouquet of pink flowers from his suit. She perked up immediately, stubby fingers reaching for the fake flowers he held out to her. 

“Thank you!” She said before following her mother down to the street. 

It was quiet after that, only a few older kids stopped by every so often. 

Once everything calmed down, and the once crowded road was now quiet and empty, The after excitement fatigue creeped upon your tired, slumped frame. You shivered, feeling a cold breeze cut through you as you gazed out into the night.

“That’s everyone. Let’s head back in now.” You said, turning to your door. Once you were inside, Carnival closed and locked the door behind you. He grasped onto your wrist, pulling  you to him as close as he could before you could walk off, resting his hands on the small of your back. 

“Thank you for inviting me, I never knew Halloween could be this much fun.” He said, his voice husky and tired. 

“I’m just glad you agreed to come over. I knew you would enjoy it.” You said, placing a kiss to his soft red painted lips. He brushed his rough fingers through your hair, stopping at the back of your head to massage gentle circles there. You wrapped your arms around his neck and rested your forehead against his gazing at each other. Neither of you wanted to let go of the other, yet both began to feel a tingle of sleep fast approaching. 

“Happy Halloween Loonetta.” He whispered after a long moment of comfortable silence passed. 

“Happy Halloween Carnival.” You replied, kissing his forehead. You then led him down the hall so the two of you could ready yourselves for a long, much needed sleep. 

[lukatheselkie]

FrUk Week Day Five - Coffee Shop

@frukweek2020

TECHNICALLY this is a café, but shh. I guess this is a human AU?

Warnings: Cussing, alcohol, clothed erection (no detail)

    Arthur grumbles angrily as he shoves a door open, walking into the building. Stupid Alfred! He can’t believe he let him convince him to travel to France with him! And what he can’t believe even more is that Alfred just left him alone. Abandoned him! Ignored that he even existed and went off with some friends he made a few days ago! Arthur slams himself down into a seat, glaring at anyone that dares look at him. These next three months can’t pass by fast enough. He places his head in his hands and groans. Three and a half months away from home. What on Earth had he been thinking? No, he knows exactly what he was thinking. Alfred was giving him puppy eyes, so he was thinking saying yes was the fastest way to get rid of those. He should have listened to the question.

    “Pardon the time it took to bring you this, sir.” Arthur’s head snaps up, and his cheeks flush pink. It’s been so long since he saw someone attractive, he nearly forgot he was bisexual. But apparently his body didn’t! He slides a hand into his lap discreetly. Thankfully, the man doesn’t seem to notice. He places an English menu in front of him with a polite smile, and continues on to the next table. Is he really that obviously a tourist? Arthur glances at the menu, frowning deeply when he sees it’s different from what he’s to. Well, he can still order tea without much trouble. He tries to ignore the extra items on the menu, but they make him curious. Alcohol? Meals? He’s used to just coffee, tea, snacks, and small desserts!

    He might need some alcohol, after his morning with Alfred. He’s a handful. And a stressful one, at that. He looks up when the waiter returns, taking a deep, steadying breath. No one should be allowed to be that attractive. It’s not fair. He greets him with a smile, and asks what he would like. You, he thinks at him. I would like to have you. Instead of answering with that, he gives a curt smile and a, “May I have some tea and a glass of champagne?” The waiter raises a brow at him.

    “You might want something to eat with that, if you haven’t had anything recently. It might make you sick.” Arthur sends a hearty glare his direction.

    “I think I know what I’m doing with my body.” It comes out harsher than he meant it to, but he’s not going to apologize for it. The stranger smiles at him.

    “Of course, sir. I will be right back with that.” He bustles off, and Arthur groans quietly. Why does he always have to be super rude when he’s around someone he finds alluring? It’s a devastating flaw of his. He glances around the café, taking in the comfortable atmosphere. At least he’s got that going for him. Not that it means much, if anything. “Here you are! Will that be all?” He places the tea and champagne on the table in front of him with a bright smile. Shit. He shifts slightly, placing his other hand in his lap as well.

    “Thank you very much. Yes, that will be all,” he tries saying clearly, but it comes out somewhat strained. The stranger giggles, and places the bill next to his tea. There’s writing besides the drinks on it. You are incredibly cute. Call me, mon cher. -Francis His number is written neatly next to the words. Hell yeah! Score! Maybe it’s a good thing Alfred abandoned him earlier. He never would have gotten the number without being angry enough to storm in for tea. He tugs his phone out of his pocket, and takes a deep breath. He has to get this right. He types the number in carefully, and then goes to write a text. Thank goodness for international coverage.

    You are much cuter than I am, Francis. But I thank you for the compliment. I know this is not a call, but I couldn’t resist. I had to contact you immediately after reading your note. My name is Arthur. He sends the message before he can talk himself out of it. He looks up, heart flipping happily when he sees Francis smiling at him. He must have his cellphone in his pocket. Arthur navigates over to Alfred’s number, and sends him a lot of emojis sticking their tongues out at him. Then, Guess who just got a date and potentially a boyfriend because you decided to leave him alone today?

    There’s absolutely no way you got a date OR a boyfriend that fast! You’re Arthur! The Brit rolls his eyes, sipping at his tea.

    Your confidence in me is overwhelming. Alfred sends him a paragraph of side-eye emojis. Hey! Fine, I’ll prove it to you. When he asks me to go out, I’ll ask him for a picture! With me, so you know I’m not pulling your leg.

    I’ll be waiting for the bad photoshop job you do. Arthur scoffs. He’s not that bad at photoshop! But this won’t be fake. He places his phone in sleep mode, then focuses on drinking his tea. It’s better than he was expecting from France. He’ll have to give it another try elsewhere to see if it holds up, or if it’s just because Francis likes him. Either way, he finishes it entirely too fast.

    The champagne is an even better idea now, since his interaction with Alfred has given him a slight headache. He sips on it lightly, enjoying the taste. It’s not something he’s very used to, but it is good. His phone vibrates again and he clicks it on, expecting another message from Alfred. It’s actually Francis. Arthur. I like that very much. Well, Arthur, my shift ends in seven minutes. Would you like to go on a walk around the city? I can show you the best places to be. He flushes crimson at the message. It’s a good thing speaking with Alfred killed his minor erection. And hopefully stopped any more from popping up for a few hours.

    I would like that very much. Though the person I am visiting with requests a photo of the two of us together. He does not believe in my ability to find a date so fast. He glances up to see Francis walking about, and shrugs lightly. He probably won’t see it until he’s off, but that’s fine. Arthur finishes off his champagne at a leisurely rate, and goes to pay for it. When he’s done with that, he checks the time. One more minute. I will be waiting outside for you. He rushes out the door, wanting to get in a suave position before he has the opportunity to come out. He leans against the wall by the door nonchalantly, watching the people walk by. Someone touches his arm lightly, and he turns his head toward them. Francis. He’s even more beautiful up close. Stunning, even.

    “Hello, Arthur,” he whispers, giving him a bright smile. It makes his knees weak. “I wouldn’t mind taking a picture with you to prove that you are indeed capable of getting a date so fast.” Oh! Right! He tugs his phone out of his pocket, and steps closer to him.

    “Thank you very much.” Francis laughs quietly. Bloody hell. He’s too damn attractive! Arthur can’t keep his thoughts straight. No, that’s a poor choice of wording. He can’t keep his thoughts organized. He lifts his phone up and taps the selfie camera on, placing his head next to his date’s. He has a date! That’s such an amazing thought. Just as he presses the button to take the picture, Francis wraps his arms around his neck and kisses his cheek, causing his cheeks to turn red from embarrassment.

    “There! That should convince him.” He drops his arms, and grabs Arthur’s free hand. “Will you send it now? I want to know how he reacts.” Wordlessly, he sends the photograph to Alfred. It isn’t very long before he messages back.

    HOLY SHIT DUDE! You weren’t kidding! And he’s HOT! If you don’t boyfriend him up, I will! Francis laughs, right in his ear. It sends a shudder down his spine. “I’m so sorry for him. He doesn’t know what he’s saying half the time. I’ll tell him that would be going too fast.”

    “Is it though? We see each other as beautiful. I’ve kissed your cheek. We’re currently holding hands. That sort of seems like we’re dating, don’t you think?” He parts his lips to reply, but nothing comes out. “Arthur, close your mouth before I kiss you there too. Unless you want me to?”

    “More than anything!” It’s out before he can place a filter on it. Francis doesn’t have to be told twice. He tilts Arthur’s head up slightly by his chin, and presses their lips together sweetly. He smirks when he pulls away.

    “It’s going to be interesting, having a foreign boyfriend. But well worth it.”

BONUS: Francis is very happy when he opens his photos app. He managed to get a picture of them kissing! He types in Alfred’s number, having memorized it specifically for this. He sends the best picture of them kissing, and leaves it at that. Arthur turns crimson a few moments later, and lets out a quiet whine that Francis finds adorable. “You didn’t!”

    “Oh but I did, mon cher. Now he has no choice but to acknowledge that you found a boyfriend.” Arthur whines louder, and buries his face in the crook of his neck. He takes the opportunity to release his hand, and wrap his arm around his waist. “You are too cute.” He kisses his hair lightly, causing him to whine again. He’s very happy Alfred left without Arthur.

[the-mill-kat]

Unshaken Chapter 8

Thank you so much for 500+ followers! That’s amazin’!!!!! 🌟

It’s finally here! I hope you guys enjoy Chapter 8 of Unshaken! Please leave me any feedback, like and comment so I know you love it and I will continue to write! I love you, fellers. Enjoy the read, and lemme know what y’all think, please! 🐺❤️🦌

You save a mysterious man who is dying on a mountain. Finding out he has Tuberculosis, you use your knowledge and skills with herbs and natural remedies to save him from death and help nurse him back to health. As he slowly starts to recover, you can’t help but wonder: Who is this man? Why had you found him the way that you did, beaten and ill? Only time, patience … and perhaps love … will tell.

The food was absolutely delicious.

Fried Muskie, with diced potatoes that you had grown in your garden and thick creamy butter that you’d made from the goats’ milk. You cut another piece out of the fish and placed the meat on your tongue, nearly moaning at the taste. “This is so tasty, Austin!” You said cheerfully as you looked across the table at him.

He smiled at your compliment. “Y’all are the ones that caught the fish, I only cooked them. Not to mention you’re the one who spiced them with those herbs of yours,” he said with a teasing grin, lifting one of his brows in amusement.

It was true, you thought with a smile. Some of the herbs you grew in your garden were not just for medicinal means, but also for adding different tastes. Sage was definitely one of your favorites.

The air was silent as the three of you sat at the kitchen table, the sound of utensils on plates creating the only noise in the cabin for several minutes. You couldn’t help but occasionally look over at Arthur to observe him, studying how he ate. For such an intimidating and large man, he seemed to have delicate manners when it came to eating, wiping his mouth with the napkin whenever he made the smallest of messes. You weren’t sure, but you thought you could see him giving your brother a hairy look from time to time. There was no doubt in your mind what it was for.

Arthur’s passive aggressive glaring at your brother for his earlier interruption was kind of adorable, you thought honestly. You knew he’d been about to kiss you again back in the stables, but Austin had called out to you from the cabin just before his lips had touched yours.

You blushed as you thought about the fact that you actually would have let him kiss you again … that you’d really wanted him to kiss you again. This man you were just getting to know, a man with a mysterious nature and past. A man who was … in all honesty … truly beautiful.

As he was distracted with dinner, you decided to allow yourself to study his features, to take every detail in that you possibly could. His skin was weathered, tanned, scarred in some of the areas that you could see, especially two thick scars that were plainly visible on his chin, preventing any stubble from growing there.

That chestnut-brown hair that swept over his temples looked so soft, as if the strands would feel as silky as flower petals if you ran your fingers through them. His brows were thick, slightly darker than his hair. His short brown beard on his square jaw was scruffy, and you remembered how rough it had felt for that brief moment against your skin. And dammit, those eyes of his … they truly looked like two unique gems, as if emeralds and sapphires had decided to merge and become two multicolored green-and-blue diamonds.

How could any man possess so many gorgeous features at once?

Then finally … those lips, looking so pink and lush like the pink carnation flower. Truly, they looked as soft as one, too. But they had been rough, the feeling of their texture and warmth coming back into your mind. You found yourself suddenly wondering what they would feel like in other places as well …

You shook your head mentally — hard. Why on Earth were you thinking this way about a man you were trying to help recover from a disease that had nearly claimed his life not more than a month ago? You felt ashamed, embarrassed that you would dare have any sort of intimate thoughts about your own patient. Well, not a patient, really, but he might as well be one since you were treating his health. Of course, he’d been the one to kiss you, and … and you had wanted it, but — it wasn’t right. Arthur’s health needed to come first, not your desires.

“So, Arthur,” Austin’s voice interrupted your thoughts, bringing you back into reality. You looked over to see that both Arthur and Austin had actually finished their meals, while you were still only halfway done. How long had you been daydreaming?

Arthur turned his gaze to look at Austin, his deep drawl a soft rumble, “Yeah, feller?”

Austin set his utensils down on the table, reaching out for the napkin to wipe it across his own mouth and chin. He set it down and took a deep breath, as if he were bracing himself for what he was about to say next. After a few moments he finally met Arthur’s gaze, “I know I mentioned this earlier, but I was wonderin’ … if you could take me hunting tomorrow mornin’? Show me how to track and kill game properly? I thought the sooner we could start, the better.” He looked back down at his empty plate, as if he were nervous about Arthur’s answer. He was scratching his cheek again, that gesture he made every single time he was nervous.

You knew what was going through Austin’s mind. For the past month your brother had been nothing but a dumbass, in all honesty. Showing no manners or respect for the man in any form whatsoever. You knew he had his own reasons, but to you they were more like excuses. Arthur hadn’t deserved to be treated by Austin the way he had. Not in the least bit. Even though Arthur had offered the favor earlier, Austin still seemed hesitant to be asking him about it.

Then abruptly you absorbed his words and their meaning. “Absolutely not, Austin!” You said firmly before Arthur could say anything, placing your utensils down hard. You couldn’t help it, but you felt a little bit of anger sweep through you. Arthur was still sick, his body still fighting off the remaining bacteria that was left in his body. There was absolutely no way you were going to let him go out there in the wilderness where there were unknown dangers. Out there, he was at so much risk of getting hurt. What if he got attacked by a wild creature? What if he slipped and fell off a cliff? What if he drowned? What if he got himself cut on a branch? What if —

You paused, realizing that some of your worries were actually getting rather ridiculous. But … still … you found yourself deeply concerned for his safety. Since his body was still medicated, it wouldn’t be able to handle much adrenaline. God forbid, what if they ran into something like a grizzly bear on their hunting trip? Any wounds a wild creature could inflict on Arthur could possibly hurt his chances of recovering fully. He needed every ounce of strength, every drop of blood he possessed if he was going to heal fully.

Austin looked over at you, a stunned expression on his face from your sharp reaction. Even Arthur turned his head to meet your furious eyes.

“Arthur needs rest, alright? That’s all I want him to worry about, you’re just goin’ to have to make do with what you know for the next few months, alright?” You shook your head, lowering your eyes to your half-finished plate. “I mean, you’ve been huntin’ on your own for three years, what’s a few more months?” You took several more bites to keep from saying something you might regret.

“Y/N, it’s nearing the end of September now … it’ll be winter before he’s even fully recovered. I thought that maybe the sooner I can get better at huntin’, the sooner and quicker I can be with catchin’ what we need to stock up for the winter season.”

Shaking your head again, you lifted your gaze to look him straight in the eyes, letting him know exactly how upset you were. “Austin, if he goes out there and gets hurt, it’s going to effect how his body will heal.”

“Y/N,” Your brother’s voice lowered in tone, as if he were trying to push some sort of reason onto you, “I just want him to teach me how to track. I swear we won’t do anything more than that.”

Arthur intervened before you could answer. “Guess I’m up for that,” he said as he lifted his shoulders in a single shrug, scratching at his jaw with the back of his thumb, “would be a welcome change to get out of this cabin for awhile, get a lay of the land.”

Your eyes widened at his response and you jerked your head in his direction, shooting him a glare. “Arthur! I need you to stay here and rest!” You weren’t yelling at him yet, but dammit, you were about to if they both kept acting like idiots with this stupid idea. Didn’t they realize how risky this was?

“Dammit, woman, I’ll be fine,” Arthur groaned with a sigh of exasperation, his face already looking exhausted as if he didn’t want to argue, “I’ve been cooped up here for too damn long, anyway. It’s ’bout time I head out there and see some of the world again.” He reached an arm up and ran his fingers through his hair, pushing some of it back from his face. “I’ll tell you what, darlin’, if we promise to keep to just trackin’, will you let me leave then?” His blue eyes lifted to yours at his question, waiting for your answer.

After he shot a glare at Arthur for calling you that endearment again, Austin turned to look at you with hope in his eyes, no doubt waiting for a yes as well.

You lowered your head, using your fork to play with the food left on your plate. Arguing with your brother was one thing, but even Arthur wanted to get out of here, you thought worriedly. But truly, could you actually blame him? He’d been stuck here for weeks, barely seeing what was outside the walls of this cabin. It would probably be good for him to get out there for a while.

‘Get a lay of the land,’ as he put it.

The only problem that kept you from wanting to accept his wish, however, was the fact that you knew his body wouldn’t be able to handle any danger they might come across. Adrenaline was a terrible thing on a weak body, and stress could negatively effect any sort of healing process an animal body was going through, so why would a human body be any different? If anything terrible happened, if he ended up having to defend himself from a wild attack, his body and muscles could actually have major problems. What medicine and herbs were running through his system would get his heart and blood pumping too fast, risking any number of things.

But even with all your concerns, you knew that no matter what you said, Arthur would still probably not listen, so why not just give him the freedom he wanted? It was better than denying it from him, especially if he was going to take it anyway. You knew that he was just that kind of man, that no one could truly keep him from doing what he wanted to do, no matter who they were.

You were extremely worried though, so you were going to try and strike a deal with them. You let out a deep breath, raising your gaze back up to meet both men. “I’ll make a deal with you.”

They both looked at you expectantly.

“As long as you don’t travel too far. No more than two miles, you hear me? And keep close to the trails. If I somehow find out that you travelled off of them, I will poison you with my herbs myself, Austin. Do you hear me?” Your tone was completely stoic, demanding absolutely no nonsense. Of course you would never actually kill you older brother, but Arthur’s safety was your top priority. And if anything ended up happening to him under your brother’s watch? You would definitely make sure that Austin would live to regret it. “And there will be absolutely no hunting. I’ll let you take your gun with you for defense, but don’t you dare think about huntin’ any large game, you hear me? Tracking only.”

Austin’s face positively glowed, completely unfazed by your threatening tone. “Thank you so much, sis. I swear to you we will do everything you ask.”

“Which is … ?” You wanted to clarify that your brother memorized and knew everything you’d asked of him to do.

“No more than two miles, stick to the trails, no huntin’ allowed, trackin’ only.” He listed them off with his fingers, lifting them up one by one with each demand. Arthur smiled in amusement, as if he were entertained by the minor quarrel the two of you were having.

You nodded then stood up, clearing the dishes off of the table and sticking everything in the sink. “Arthur,” you said as you turned the faucet on to begin washing the plates. “After I’m done here, I need you ready for another check-up, alright?”

Arthur sighed roughly as he leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, “You sure I need another so soon?” He asked, looking over at you with a playful but annoyed look in his eyes as he lifted a single dark brow, his voice carrying slight indignation in his tone. “I feel fine, woman. Also I’m gettin’ pretty sick of those things.”

“Yes, and you will get sick — even more so — if you don’t let me do them.” You kept your response firm, authoritative. He needed to know that you weren’t going to take any more crap from either of them, especially tonight. You had just agreed to let Austin take Arthur out of the cabin and far out into the wilderness, where possible dangers lurked. No amount of words or promises was ever going to comfort you for the rest of the night, not until they returned home safe and sound from their trip tomorrow. “So, if you’d be so kind,” you said sweetly, rather with some venom to go with that sugar, “I would greatly appreciate it if you would go into the sitting room and get yourself comfortable.” You pointed toward the door to the sitting room with the large knife you were holding, shooting sharp darts at him with your gaze.

He grinned at your response, obviously entertained by the big-boss-lady you had turned into. He held his hands up in surrender. “Alright, alright. Dammit, darlin’,” he said, standing up from his chair.

Austin glared up at him, “I thought I told you to stop callin’ my sister that, cowpoke.”

Arthur looked down at him, his large stature giving off nothing but threatening intimidation. “Now you need to shut that damn mouth of yours unless you want to lose them teeth, son.” He growled, and Austin’s eyes widened, a hint of fear showing in them. But Arthur just grinned and patted Austin’s shoulder hard with an open palm. “I’m just needlin’ ya, boah. I know you’re just protectin’ your sister.” He tucked a hand on his belt as he made his way into the sitting room, mindfully closing the door behind him.

Austin looked back at you, giving you a weird smile. “You know, Y/N, in all honesty, that man looks more and more dangerous with each passin’ day.”

“And yet you’re goin’ on a huntin’ trip with him tomorrow,” you teased, unable to let out a small laugh as you finished up washing the last utensil and placed it on the drying rack. “A little one-on-one time with the big, dangerous man. Lucky you.” You turned to face him, propping your hip against the counter of the sink as you crossed you arms, narrowing your eyes at your brother. “Now don’t you dare think that I’m in the least bit happy about this.”

His smile lowered, turning into a frown, “I know you’re not, Y/N. But we need to start thinking about this. Autumn is nearly here, and then it’s going to be winter. It will be much harder to hunt during that time. We both know it, we’ve been through it before, and now that there’s three of us, well — ” He reached around his head and rubbed at the back of his neck. “I need to start stocking up what I can find. Plus, if Arthur starts showin’ me how to track early on, it might give me a better chance of huntin’ in the winter time.” He lowered his eyes for a second, then raised them back up at you after a few moments, “Arthur’s probably not going to stay with us forever, you know.”

Those last words slammed into your heart like a bag of bricks, slashing through your chest like a hundred daggers. Even though you knew your brother was right, you didn’t like to think about that inevitable fact.

You didn’t want to think about Arthur leaving, and truly that thought surprised you … this man you barely knew, who’d been living with you for less than a month … and you already couldn’t bear the thought of him being gone.

But eventually, once Arthur was fully recovered, you were certain he was going to leave. As far as you knew, he had never mentioned anything about permanently staying after he was better. The thought of him no longer being here actually scared you, and you shook your head hard. “I know what you’re saying, Austin, I just want him to be safe.”

Your brother nodded, and he stood up slowly, making his way around the table to walk over to you and pull you into a hug. “I understand what you’re feeling, Y/N. I promise you, we’ll stick to the trails, and we won’t do anything stupid, alright?”

You nodded against his chest, accepting his warm embrace as you wrapped your arms around him to return the hug. “Thank you, Austin. I’m sorry, I’m just very worried for him.”

“I know.”

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Arthur sat on the large couch, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, watching the flames in the fireplace as they licked greedily at the firewood, all the while waiting for Y/N to come in and start another check-up on him. He looked down at his inner arm, noting all the tiny holes that had healed where she kept sticking those damn needles in. Dammit, his Tuberculosis was going to leave scars on him in more ways than one. There was no doubt about that, he thought with a sigh.

But of course, he’d rather have scars than be dead, he thought. Though, if he were completely sincere with himself, he would somewhat actually prefer death over some of them … such as his memories. He couldn’t bear to think about all he’d lost, the pain of emptiness like an aching black hole in his heart.

Arthur knew that he eventually had to decide what he was going to do with his life once he was fully recovered, now that there was no longer anything or anyone to go back to.

He’d thought several times about staying here with Y/N and Austin, at least for a little while. He knew he needed to repay them for all they’d done for him in what ever way he could, but there was no way he would allow himself to stay permanently. He refused to become a burden on them. He wasn’t going to let himself take advantage of their hospitality after his body was completely healed. Hell, he felt like a useless idiot even now.

Arthur closed his eyes in a sigh, thinking back to that mountain again, doing his best to remember every single thing that had happened. He recalled sending John away before facing off with Micah and Dutch. He remembered Dutch turning his back on him despite the years of service and loyalty that Arthur had given him. After that, all he could remember was trying to crawl, dragging his body across the hard and cold ground until it had completely given out, his muscles shutting down as he’d felt his heart start to slow, his breath becoming more and more shallow as he’d collapsed … turning his face to watch the sun just as it had begun to peak over the horizon.

All he could remember after that was a peculiar taste on his tongue, and the feeling of being lifted into the air. The next time he’d opened his eyes, he could barely make out the face of a woman sitting by his side, and they’d engaged in some kind of conversation before he had passed out again.

This was all so strange, he thought. He was supposed to be dead, and he damn well knew it.

Yet it was absolutely undeniable; this woman had saved his life, and he was still here. Arthur ran a hand across his face, rubbing at his forehead. What the hell was he ever going to do now, he still wondered.

Suddenly he thought of John again, and about the dreams he’d been having of late. Was there some sort of meaning to them that he wasn’t able to pick up on? Why were the dreams always of a deer? What the hell was going on in his mind that he somehow wasn’t aware of?

His thoughts were suddenly interrupted when the kitchen door opened, Austin and Y/N walking through. The man nodded at him as he walked by, heading down the hallway to his bedroom and shutting the door behind him. Arthur looked over at Y/N, reading her somber expression as she walked over to gather supplies from her desk. What the hell had gone down between them, he asked himself. She looked sad for some reason, and he wanted to find out why.

She came over to him and placed the tray of supplies on the nightstand, sitting on the couch next to him. “Alright, Arthur, it’s time,” she said, her voice sounding soft and patient, not matching her sad expression in the least bit.

Arthur turned his upper body to face her as she put on the stethoscope and started running the disk over his chest. “You okay?” He asked, curious as to what might’ve transpired to put her in the mood she was in now. Of course he’d left the room when she’d been slightly upset. But this seemed different, as if she’d been told some sort of terrible news. What, though? He turned to gaze down the hall. Had her brother done or said something to hurt her? Just the possibility alone started to boil his blood. “Austin didn’t do somethin’ to hurt you, did he?”

She snapped her head up to meet his gaze, surprise in her eyes and in her voice, “Of course not, Arthur. Why would you think that?”

He lowered his eyes to watch her move the disk around his chest. “I don’t know, you just seem — ” He shrugged, “Ah, never mind.”

She lifted her lips in a small smile, “Well, thank you for your concern, but I’m fine. Austin didn’t do anything, so don’t you worry, alright? Now take some deep breaths for me, you know how it goes.”

Arthur felt his lips stretch into an amused grin as he did as she asked, taking in as much air as he could into his lungs before letting it back out. He wasn’t sure he entirely believed her, but he would leave it alone for now, unless she decided to speak about it any further at some point.

“So,” she said as she pulled the disk away, taking off the stethoscope and placing it back on the tray. “Arthur, your heart and lungs are sounding really good. I’m very proud of how well your body has responded to the treatments.” She looked back at him as she held up an empty hypodermic needle for him to see. “Now we’re going to try something a little different tonight — I need to take some of your blood.”

Arthur’s heart skipped at those words. This was definitely new. What the hell did she need to draw his blood for?

As if Y/N had read his mind, she added, “Once I get some of your blood, I can analyze it with my microscope to see how much Tuberculosis bacteria is still left in your body. This procedure is what I use in order to tell how an animal is doing during its healing process … it should be about the same for a human.” She looked away when she said that last part.

Was that a hint of nervousness he’d detected in her tone?

“Well ... ,” Arthur studied her features for a bit before he finally decided to give in, resting his arm on his thigh palm-up. “Have at it, then, honey.”

He trusted her. She’d never given him any reason not to.

She smiled at him gratefully, before she leaned over and disinfected the area on his skin with pure alcohol, wiping it clean with a fresh cloth.

Bringing the tip of the needle over his skin, she prodded around with her finger until she found his thick vein, and then pushed the point in. Arthur flinched, grimacing and releasing a deep grunt as she pulled back the plunger, slowly drawing his blood into the tiny glass barrel.

After several seconds passed, she finally pulled the needle out and pushed the cloth against the small fresh wound she’d left behind to keep any more blood from escaping. “Could you hold that in place for me, please?” She asked him.

Arthur obliged her, pushing the thing down hard with his other hand. She gave a nod of appreciation and stood up, bringing the vial that was now filled with his blood over to the large metal microscope on her desk. She dispensed the blood into some kind of glass tray before placing it underneath the lens, looking through the scope. He watched as she played around with his blood using a small metal tool, stirring it around.

He found himself extremely curious with her actions. “Just what are you doin’ there?” Arthur asked.

She didn’t answer, appearing to be lost in some kind of deep thought. Her expressions changed as moments passed by, as if she were thinking really hard about whatever she was seeing. Once she was finished, she stepped back and took everything over to the sink to to clean and disinfect them. Completing that task, she washed her hands and walked back over to him. “Well, Arthur,” she said as she sat back down next to him, she turned her gaze to his as she spoke the next words. “I do still see a little bit of bacteria left in your blood, but I expected that, so it’s no surprise. What’s still there appears to be dying off, they looked very weak, but it’ll be at least another couple of months before everything is all cleared up … I would really rather you stay here tomorrow, but I’ll leave that up to you.” She raised a hand to rub at her shoulder, as if she were trying to hold herself back from adding anymore onto that last statement.

Arthur looked at her, baffled. “You could see it in my blood?” He couldn’t help the gravel in his voice from the surprise he felt.

Y/N nodded, “Of course, microscopes are incredibly helpful when it comes to seeing what our naked eyes can’t.”

Arthur found himself unable to say anything so he just nodded, feeling like a complete dumbass sitting next to a woman that kept managing to surprise him. Truly, she was too damn smart for her own good, he thought, unable to even begin to understand her way of thinking and how she saw the world.

After a long silent moment passed between them, Y/N reached back over to the tray and held that familiar pot out to him again, but this time she didn’t meet his gaze as he took it from her hand.

“More honey, huh?” Arthur couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle, lifting the lid and grabbing the spoon from the jar. She didn’t say anything as he began taking the sweet substance into his mouth. Apparently honey was truly one of nature’s strongest natural remedies for treating Tuberculosis, who the hell knew?

As he focused on the taste, he found himself thinking about something else that was just as sweet, something else he would like to taste. Someone else. A certain kind of other honey. Arthur lowered his eyes to stare down at Y/N’s lips as he swallowed, studying how luscious they looked, thinking again about how soft they’d felt against his own.

Dammit, what the hell was wrong with him? He squeezed his eyes shut, his brows tightening. He barely knew this woman, so why did he find himself so drawn to her? Because she’d saved his life? Because she was helping to cure him of a deadly disease? Because she was possibly the smartest person he’d ever met? … Because she was absolutely beautiful … ? … Because she’d shown him more tenderness and care than anyone else ever had in a long time … ? He lifted his lids to look at her again, and she blushed. She must’ve read his expression, and he wondered what his face looked like to bring out that reaction in her.

Suddenly she cleared her throat, standing up from the couch. “Um — I have something for you.” She left the sitting room and disappeared down the hallway, leaving him alone to feel like a complete idiot. Of course he’d scared her off, he thought, completely unsurprised and wanting to punch himself in the face for doing so.

A minute later she came back with some kind of large dark red cloth in her hands. “I meant to give this to you sooner, but I wasn’t sure you wanted them since you already had the other pair.” She came over and held it out to him. Arthur took it and spread out the soft cloth to see that it was a dark red union suit. He lifted his gaze up to hers, giving her a questioning look, “You’re givin’ this to me?”

She lifted a finger to her hair to twirl around in her strands, as if she were nervous, “Well, I placed an order in the catalog for my brother before we moved up here, but when it came in it was too big for him. He didn’t mind though, said he really appreciated the thought but he wasn’t really of fan of red, anyways. Of course I ordered him another one after that, that one ended up suiting him perfectly and it was his favorite color: dark blue.” She let out a small giggle and gestured at the union suit. “This should fit you just fine. Neither of us have any use for it, so I want you to have it.”

She looked nervous, like she was waiting for him to turn it down. But he wasn’t going to do that. “Well, thanks for the gift, Y/N,” he said as he gave her a grateful smile, folding the cloth up and placing it on his lap. “I think red’s a great color,” He patted the cloth, “looks good on just about anythin’, if you ask me.”

She let out a small laugh, which lifted his spirits. Her laugh was truly one of a kind, a sweet little jingle that heated his blood. “I’ll go ahead and take your clothes for you after you’ve put it on, I’m planning on doin’ laundry tonight anyways.”

Arthur squinted at her, “Need any help with that, honey?”

She blushed slightly, turning her eyes away. Arthur knew he was never going to get tired of calling her that, if only to see that same adorable reaction every time. “No, thank you. It’s not a hassle, really. It allows me some time to think. Just leave your clothes sitting outside and I’ll see to them.” She fiddled with the collar of her blouse, then said sweetly, “Well, anyway, you have a good night, Arthur.” She looked at him then, and her eyes glowed as those lips lifted into another beautiful smile.

Damn, he wanted so badly to kiss her again, he thought, he wanted to taste those lips of hers once more. But before he could think to make any sort of move, she turned away and made her way back towards the kitchen.

Arthur watched as she shut the door softly behind her, leaving him alone on the large couch.

He looked down at the soft red fabric she’d just gifted him with. Running his hand across it, he noted how silky and smooth the texture felt underneath his fingers. There was no doubt in his mind that this cloth had definitely cost a pretty penny. So she had ordered this before she’d moved up here?

Arthur remembered her talking about having grown up on a plantation, and he found himself wondering where exactly she was truly from. Who was she really, he thought. Did she actually come from a family of wealth? If so, what exactly happened that made her want to leave? He recalled her saying something about ‘not wanting to stay cooped up’ there. But that couldn’t be all there was to it, so what was the true reason? He couldn’t fathom why anyone would want to give up a life of luxury to live out in the damn woods …

If anything, Arthur thought, she was just as mysterious to him as he no doubt was to her.

Later that night

Arthur found himself standing in the middle of a heavy fog, unable to see anything past the thick haze surrounding him. He looked around, but there was absolutely nothing. No sound, no voices, just complete silence. Where the hell was he now?

Suddenly the sound of a stick snapping resonated in the distance, and Arthur jerked his head in the direction he’d heard it from. But nothing seemed to give itself away, and he started to feel his agitation grow. “Who’s out there?” He shouted, swiping violently at the thick mist with his arms, trying to take a few steps forward as he did so.

A wet drop landed on his cheek, and Arthur looked up. It was starting to snow, the frozen drops beginning to fall slowly from the sky around him, and the ground beneath him quickly began to get covered in a thick blanket. What in the damn hell was going on? He squinted, trying his best to see anything, anything at all, but he could see nothing but the color white. White fog, white ground, white snow, white sky. Why was there so much damn white?

Feeling nearly helpless, though he hated to think of himself in that term, Arthur began to walk forward, taking one slow step at a time. He wasn’t sure what he would walk into, or hell, there was probably a large cliff up ahead for all he knew, but he couldn’t stay here. He continued swiping at the fog in an effort to clear up a small path in front of him, but the effort did nothing to help clear his vision what so damn ever.

Time seemed to pause, and Arthur kept moving, feeling the snow land on his shoulders and hair as he continued through the fog.

Arthur stopped, spotting a dark shadow in the distance. From what he could barely make out, it looked like a creature of some kind … the deer again? He moved closer, crouching low to the ground in hopes of not spooking it as he slowly began to approach. As the distance grew shorter, the fog began clearing up, and Arthur suddenly found himself mesmerized.

Not a deer.

It was a wolf.

The dark creature had long, greasy black fur, and Arthur couldn’t see its face as it wandered over the peak of a tall hill off in the distance, sniffing at the cold ground as if it were searching for something. The wolf didn’t seem to notice him, but Arthur could sense some sort of strange feeling coming from the creature, as if it was lost or afraid, or maybe both. It even looked like it was ready to attack anyone that came near it to defend itself.

He took another step towards it, somehow feeling drawn to its presence. Despite not making a sound, the wolf’s head jerked up and looked in his direction, and Arthur stilled, his heart feeling like it had suddenly stopped beating in his chest.

Two large scars ran across the right side of the wolf’s face … its eyes — they were completely white, as if it was blind?

Could it see anything?

The wolf growled, baring its sharp teeth in his direction. Arthur raised his hands up, an attempt to try and tell the creature that he meant no harm — even though he had no clue why doing so was his first thought.

The dark creature crept backwards, withdrawing slowly as if it were afraid of him, but shouldn’t it be the other way around?

Arthur somehow felt compelled to approach, and he tried to move forward in an effort to get closer.

The wolf sprinted, turning its tail away as it fled from him.

“Wait!” Arthur called out, and suddenly he was able to run, drifting quickly through the heavy snow and fog so he didn’t lose sight of the black wolf. He had no idea why he was chasing after it, but hell, there was nothing else here! And those scars …

As he ran through the fog, tall trees began to appear. One to his left, two to his right, until he was running through a dense snow-covered forest.

Arthur stopped in his tracks, trying to catch his breath. There was a sudden sharp pain in his lungs, and he felt like he could barely breathe. He looked around as he panted, and he saw the wolf standing not too far off.

It had stopped. Its ears were perked up, and it appeared as though it had spotted something.

Arthur squinted in the direction it was looking … and there he saw the deer.

The large animal was grazing at a small patch of green grass, the only color in this world of black and white, as if it was the only source of life here. Arthur looked back over at the wolf, and he noticed that it suddenly looked hungry.

His eyes widened and he tried to move forward, somehow compelled to stop the impending attack.

But that’s not what happened.

No.

The deer lifted its head from the grass and looked over at the wolf, as if it had known all along that the feral beast was nearby.

Arthur noticed it instantly — the deer had his own eyes again. That familiar reflection of blue adding color to the land devoid of any other next to the green grass. It was almost as if it represented something, but for what? The deer? The wolf?

The wolf and deer seemed to take each other in.

Long moments passed, and Arthur couldn’t move, his body caught in some kind of invisible hold.

The black wolf began to creep forward, and the deer actually took a step in the predator’s direction. Both of the animals seemed to hesitate at first, but as they drew closer to each other, some kind of bond began to form.

The deer leaned forward as the wolf reached out, each of their noses nearly touching as they stared at one another, cloudy eyes meeting blue.

Silence.

Both of the creatures seemed at peace, as if they understood each other in some kind of mysterious way. The deer lifted its head away and began walking in no particular direction, merely meandering as the wolf decided to follow.

Arthur felt his body suddenly start to become air, as if he were being lifted into some kind of haze as he watched the unlikely pair saunter side by side through the trees.

What happened next, Arthur couldn’t explain.

A sharp gunshot sounded out, followed by a loud thunderous noise that echoed through the sky like a storm. Both of the animals jerked their heads, as if they had no clue where the ominous sounds had come from. The deer nudged the wolf’s neck and began to run, the wolf following close behind. Arthur felt himself being carried with them, an invisible aura able to do nothing but spectate what played out before him.

The two ran for days, it felt like. Weeks, months, years … What was only just a short time felt as though it stretched on forever, and they just kept on running, continuing to dodge whichever direction the repeating gunshots were coming from. Faster and faster they ran together, until the land around them was nothing but a white and gray blur.

That gray blur suddenly became green, and the sky turned from white to blue. Soon after the deer and the wolf suddenly ran into a clearing of open grassy fields, the land beyond completely covered in lush greenery and flora. They ran until both of them reached a cliff.

The wolf stopped right on the edge, but the deer leapt over it and into the air, suddenly fading away, disappearing abruptly from the wolf’s side into a glimmering gold mist.

The black wolf was left alone to stand over the tall cliff, looking down on what lied before him. Arthur looked over the landscape, taking in what the wolf saw.

It was some kind of ranch, a place that somehow felt welcoming and safe … he looked over at the wolf and saw them then and there.

John’s clear brown eyes.

— To Be Continued

[lallemanting]

59!!!!

ah kat! thank you for sending this in, sorry it took me awhile lol 💛 hope you enjoy!!

#59 from these autumn prompts: scary movie // also on ao3

Autumn is undoubtedly Eliott’s favorite season. The weather is cool and crisp, but not freezing. There are vibrant reds and oranges and yellows, coloring the world in shades of sunset at all hours of the day. The food is warm and rich and decadent, the stuff that clings to your bones a bit and makes you feel at home. 

Not to mention it makes a beautiful backdrop for a certain boy that never seems to leave Eliott’s mind these days.

He and Lucas have been teetering on that line for a while now is the thing. Eliott can’t help but notice the looks, the constant texting, the occasional flirting that took a while for him to catch onto. He’s always been a bit oblivious when it comes to that stuff, generally making the first move, making himself clear and letting the other person catch up.

But with Lucas it’s different. Eliott’s had a bit of a crush on him since he first transferred to his school – has always appreciated his deep blue eyes, the way his hair seems to have a mind of its own, the fierce loyalty he shows his friends. But at the time, when Arthur had first introduced him to Lucas, when he had welcomed Eliott into their friend group, Eliott hadn’t wanted to risk losing the only friends he had. Not to mention he’d still been with Lucille. So he hadn’t done anything about his feelings, just letting them stay there, close to his heart.

But a few months ago, things began to change. Or maybe it’s just that Eliott started to pay more attention. 

It was something Basile had said actually, that had made him start to wonder. They’d all been sitting at a café – Eliott, Lucas, Yann, Arthur and Basile – and Lucas had gotten up to grab another coffee. Bas had asked him to get him a snack and Lucas had told him to stop being a lazy piece of shit and get it himself. But then he’d turned to Eliott and quietly asked him if he wanted another coffee too.

Eliott hadn’t really thought anything of it at first, but Bas, annoyed at Lucas’ lack of empathy at his apparently growling stomach had leaned across the table, whining as Lucas had made his way to the counter. “Why does Lucas always do nice stuff for Eliott but not for me?”

Yann had shot Bas a glance, his jaw clenched. “Because you’re an idiot.”

That had made Bas go off on another tangent about how everyone was always mean to him, but it had made Eliott think. And the more he thought about it, he realized that Lucas did tend to treat him differently than everyone else.

Lucas was nicer to him, more attentive, paid him more compliments, invited him to more things. And maybe, hidden there in all of that, there had been some flirting. 

(But Eliott had always been bad at subtlety, so he wasn’t really sure. When he wanted something, he tended to go for it, lay his cards on the table in a way that really couldn’t be ignored. He’s never really had to do this before – play it safe.)

What Eliott does know though is that he treats Lucas differently. A good different. 

Because the thing is Eliott knows his heart beats faster when he sees his phone light up with a text from Lucas, is well aware of what he’s doing when he compliments Lucas just to see the way his cheeks blush in beautiful shades of pink, seeks out every opportunity to be near him, touch him. 

But he doesn’t know what it means for Lucas.

Maybe that’s the problem – it’s only ever been this surface-level stuff. Friendly banter, gentle flirting that could seem unserious, light touches that could mean nothing. And maybe it’s supposed to be like this, maybe Lucas wants this to be the extent of their relationship, but Eliott knows he’s falling and he’s falling fast. 

He can’t figure out if Lucas is falling too. 

It’s timing, after all. The timing has always been off. When Eliott first met Lucas, he’d been with Lucille, and even though he’d immediately noticed Lucas, it wasn’t like he could do anything about it. And then they’d actually started talking and it turned out they got along great – better, in fact, than Eliott had ever gotten along with anyone before. 

But he sorted out his feelings too late, much too late. By the time he ended things with Lucille for good, the subtle flirting had just become part of their relationship and Eliott had somehow managed to become Lucas’ friend instead. 

It wasn’t that Eliott didn’t like being Lucas’ friend, but these days they walk the gentle line between friendship and what could be and it drives Eliott crazy.

They’re sitting at lunch one day towards the end of October, just the two of them. Eliott is trying to focus on his food, he really is, but there’s a bright yellow tree just outside the window they’re sitting by and the sunlight is streaming in at just the right angle and from where Eliott sits, Lucas looks like he’s been lit in a heavenly glow.

So when Lucas says something, Eliott has to ask him to repeat it.

“I asked what you were doing on Friday,” Lucas says casually. 

Eliott nearly chokes, his heart skipping like it does every time Lucas asks him to hang out. (Because maybe this time, it might mean something different.) “I don’t think I have plans.”

“Want to go to a movie?” And Eliott can’t help the way his thoughts spiral out of control at Lucas’ question. A movie? Just the two of them? 

He’s slow then, testing the waters, trying to figure out just what this is. “Uh yeah, sure. What movie were you thinking?”

“Well, there’s that new horror film you know, for Halloween? Thought that might be kind of cool.”

And there are two things Eliott knows with absolute certainty: 1) he hates scary things, especially horror films and 2) he’d go anywhere if Lucas asked him. So unfortunately for him, he’ll be going to this movie.

“Yeah, sounds good,” Eliott says like he’s not at least a bit hesitant to have to sit through an hour or two of intentionally scaring himself. But it’s fine, better than fine actually, because he’ll get to spend time with Lucas.

Lucas smiles at him, taking another bite of his sandwich. “Okay I’ll come by your apartment around 7? And we can take the bus to the theater together.”

Eliott’s mind is racing and he can’t believe that this might finally be what he’s been hoping for but then –

“We’ll meet the rest of the boys there since they live in the opposite direction.”

And oh, Eliott tries hard not to pay attention to the way his heart drops at the mention of the other boys. He likes them, he does, but this means it’s a friend thing, a platonic thing. It means it the same as it always is.

– 

On Friday Eliott finds himself sitting there in the dark theater, trying to keep his attention on the screen. He’s trying to focus on the idiot family walking into their (clearly haunted) house. He tries to listen as the father reassures his family that the rumors aren’t true, the house is just old. But the thing is – and isn’t it always this – Lucas is there, sitting so close to him their knees are almost brushing, and Eliott is finding it hard to pay attention to anything else.

It’s heartbeats and breaths and gentle knees. A glance as Lucas offers Eliott more popcorn, a little shake of his head to say no, the settling back into the seats, fingers inches from each other.

And Eliott is dying.

But it can’t be like this, he won’t survive the two hours in the theater like this, so he turns his attention back to the screen, trying to get invested in the movie (even if he knows he’s going to hate it).

And it’s just his luck that as he turns his attention back, focuses all his energy on the story unfolding in front of him, something black and dark and scary with a gaping mouth and dead eyes pops up on the screen and Eliott nearly screams.

It’s this, Eliott hates this feeling of losing control over his reactions, his body kicking into fight or flight mode, pulse racing, muscles frantic. He needs to be grounded.

So without thinking, in the split second that it takes for his eyes to catch up with brain, in the moment it takes between the fear and the recognition that it can’t hurt him, Eliott reaches for the one thing that makes him feel safe: Lucas.

His hand finds Lucas’ and then he’s clenching Lucas’ fingers tightly in his own, his shock from the scare making him lose his ability to fight the urge to hold Lucas’ hand, the urge he’s been pushing down for months.

He squeezes Lucas’ hand. And Lucas squeezes back.

It brings Eliott back into himself, that feeling of Lucas’ hand responding to his, pressure that anchors him, touch that sets him on fire. He glances over at Lucas and Lucas’s face is split into a wide smile as his eyes finds Eliott’s and he’s laughing, chuckling at Eliott being scared by the movie. Because to Lucas it’s no big deal, he watches these movies all the time, they don’t surprise him.

Eliott rolls his eyes and he’s very aware of Lucas’ hand in his, the feeling of skin on skin, reveling in his touch. But then he’s remembering that as much as he’s wanted to do this, they don’t do this. They don’t hold hands. It crosses their unspoken line, bends their informal rules too much.

And the last thing Eliott wants is for Lucas to feel uncomfortable. So as he turns around, eyes trained back on the screen, he moves, just a little, to let Lucas’ hand drop from his own, go back to that space of platonic friendship with a dash of flirting. 

But as he relaxes his grip, moves to bring his hand away, his eyes trained on the movie in front of him, he feels Lucas’ hand chase his, grasping it again and lacing their fingers together.

Eliott can’t breathe, he really can’t. They don’t hold hands. And they certainly don’t hold hands like this. It’s the line, the one that’s been drawn for so long – you can flirt, but only just. You can touch, but not too long. Interlacing fingers are not part of the game they play.

Eliott gasps at the contact, reveling in how good it feels to have Lucas’ palm against his, fingers intertwined, knitted together under the armrest, resting on the scratchy fabric of the seats. He glances back towards Lucas, looking for a sign, something that will tell him why Lucas is doing this, why now. But all he finds is Lucas looking stoically ahead at the film on the screen, though maybe the hint of a smile plays at the corner of his lips. It’s too dark to see clearly. 

And Eliott could panic. He could snatch his hand back, break the contact rough and sharp, stay behind the line that’s become his comfort zone, scared that moving outside it might change their relationship irrevocably for the worst. That he might lose Lucas, his deepest fear realized, ending up alone.

But now Lucas, it seems, is pushing that line a little farther, pressing on the limits of what they’ve allowed, testing to see how Eliott responds. And if this is his chance to make his case, Eliott can’t let it slip away.

He pulls their joined hands onto his lap and lets them rest there, tracing shapes with his thumb. He turns back to the screen and normally he’d have to look away, normally he’d be hiding his eyes, fear gripping his chest, heart beating rapidly as he watches terror unfold.

But a different kind of fear has taken its place, with Lucas there, hand in his. But this fear is lighter, more exciting and daunting. Less fear really, and more nervousness, his mind racing quickly thinking what is this, what does it mean? And there aren’t answers yet and there can’t be, not really, as they sit in the dark, fingers laced. 

In the end, Eliott doesn’t watch the movie really. The pictures flash in front of his eyes, but his heart is beating so loud it drowns out the screams and creepy music echoing from the speakers. For a moment, Eliott almost laughs to himself at the setting because he’s always been a hopeless romantic, has imagined holding Lucas’ hand like this for so long but it’s never had this backdrop – no matter how fitting for an October evening. 

But it doesn’t matter really, because sitting like this in this moment, the only thing Eliott knows is the fire burning in his chest, Lucas’ gentle touch the spark that set it aflame.

–

When the credits roll and the lights begin to come up Lucas finally lets go of his hand. They must have been sitting there like that for nearly an hour. But Eliott gets it –  the light always makes it harder.

Eliott is also a little grateful because the last thing he needs right now is for one of the other boys to see and ask about it. It would undoubtedly become a thing and Eliott doesn’t think he’d be able to keep of his facade of being only interested in Lucas as a friend if he gets hit with too many questions.

So when the lights turn on, Lucas pulls away and Eliott lets him go. 

As they all make their way out of the theater, Eliott finds himself in a daze, his head swimming, his heart bursting, nervousness piercing his chest. And he looks to Lucas for the next move, for what comes next, only Lucas isn’t looking to him.

In fact, Lucas doesn’t look at him at all as they walk out of the darkened room, down the hallway to the lobby and eventually out the doors onto the sidewalk. Instead, Lucas runs up to whisper something to Yann and then they’re joined by the rest of the boys loudly talking about the parts of the movie that scared them or were particularly gross, as Eliott trails behind. 

Out on the darkened sidewalk, out in the cool night air, the fire that had been burning is starting to wane and Eliott feels his confidence and excitement failing him as Lucas continues to ignore him. Sure, Eliott wasn’t expecting a frank discussion of what happened in front of everyone else, but maybe just a glance, something to let Eliott know it affected Lucas as much as it affected him.

As they all stand there saying their goodbyes, Eliott starts to panic. Because this is where they head off in separate directions, where Eliott and Lucas generally head to their area of the city, and the other boys go the other way. 

And Eliott had thought they’d be heading back together, him and Lucas, but Lucas is standing off to the side, whispering with Yann and maybe, Eliott thinks, he’s trying to find a way to stay over at Yann’s so he can avoid the awkward walk home with him. 

Eliott’s thoughts are spiraling a little out of control when Yann suddenly gives Lucas a look and shoves him gently in Eliott’s direction. 

“Come on boys,” Yann says loudly, clapping Arthur and Basile on their shoulders. “Let’s head out.” He nods in Eliott and Lucas’ direction, where Lucas has ended up standing closer to Eliott, his back to him. “See you two later.”

And then the other three are turning up the sidewalk and heading out into the darkness, leaving Eliott alone with Lucas. His heart is beating so fast, Eliott is scared it might burst out of his chest.

He just needs to reassure Lucas, he thinks, make sure he knows they can still be normal, that it doesn’t have to be anything more, no matter how Eliott feels. He opens his mouth to say that when Lucas whirls around.

His eyes meet Eliott’s for the first time since they left the theater and there’s something new there, that Eliott can’t quite place. It’s not bad, but it’s strong, determined. He smiles gently at him. “Can I walk you home?”

Eliott nods.

It’s not a particularly long way to either of their places. The bus is quicker, but Eliott and Lucas had both gotten in the habit of walking home when it wasn’t too far and there wasn’t a certain time they needed to be somewhere. They could take their time that way, hang out for just a little bit longer. Or, at least, that was always why Eliott had suggested walking.

They walk in relative silence through the dark streets, night falling earlier and earlier with each passing day. It’s rained since they’d gone in for the movie, the cobblestone streets reflecting in the light from the lampposts, and leaving the air cool but fresh, a slight mist swirling. Eliott takes a deep breath. He loves nights like this.

They’re walking side by side, and despite Eliott’s fear, Lucas isn’t really keeping his distance. Their shoulders are close, their hands closer, and Eliott can’t help but notice the warmth of Lucas’ body next to him. 

Eliott wonders if he should say something. There’s silence, yes, and it’s not necessarily uncomfortable, but he also doesn’t want to go home without at least talking about it. He turns words over in his mind trying to knit them together into something smooth and cohesive, something to mask his nervousness, his feelings, as they get closer and closer to his apartment.

And they’re walking so close it’s bound to happen and maybe, Eliott thinks later, it was intentional, but their knuckles brush as their hands hang at their sides and Eliott feels the fire light up again.

So it’s not his fault, really, when he reaches for Lucas’ hand again. When he grabs Lucas and tries to intertwine their fingers like they had only a little earlier in the evening. 

Only he feels Lucas stiffen slightly at his touch, pulling his hand away and then Lucas stops moving, rooting himself to the concrete sidewalk.

All Eliott can think is shit and then he’s feeling slightly nauseous as he turns to face Lucas where he’s stopped on the street, bracing himself for what he’s sure is coming next. Kind, gentle words that will inevitably break his heart.

And when he turns to face Lucas, he finds him staring straight at him, his face slightly contorted, a little frantic. Lucas takes a deep breath and Eliott suddenly loses the ability to speak.

But luckily it seems like Lucas has also been thinking of things to say on their walk because he’s taking another deep breath as he looks at Eliott.

“Eliott,” he says quietly, his voice small in the darkness. “When you held my hand in the theater, were you holding it because you were scared or because it was my hand?” 

And Eliott wasn’t really prepared for a question, and certainly not that one. He swallows, his eyes flickering over Lucas’ face, trying to discern why he’s asking.

“Eliott,” Lucas repeats and Eliott knows he can’t get away without answering.

Eliott shrugs, his hands finding the pockets of his jeans as he tries to keep Lucas’ gaze. “I uh...well,” and it’s now or never, “I just wanted to hold your hand.”

And Lucas is still looking at him, but he’s burning brighter, if that’s possible, as Eliott speaks. Eliott feels the words hang heavy, because for the first time, Eliott has intentionally crossed that invisible line they’ve drawn, has been clearer than he’s ever been before about how he feels. And he hopes Lucas hears him, he hopes it wasn’t a mistake.

Lucas isn’t saying anything again, and his gaze drops to the floor as he takes a deep breath. Eliott is just starting to regret saying anything at all when Lucas looks back up at him and something is there that wasn’t before.

“Fuck it,” Lucas whispers, his eyes blazing, and then he’s taking the last two steps towards Eliott, grabbing his face and kissing him quick, pressure barely there and then gone again.

Eliott’s eyes go wide, and he has no chance to respond, the pressure of Lucas’ lips against his own barely there long enough for his brain to register it as something other than wishful thinking.

When Lucas pulls back, his hands stay on either side of Eliott’s face and he’s looking at him like he’s waiting for some sort of reassurance that they’re on the same page.

And even though Eliott’s imagined confessing his feelings to Lucas hundreds of times, he’s not prepared for this, was never prepared for Lucas to make the first move, so the shock takes over and his mind goes blank as his heart soars.

He can’t believe this is finally happening.

Only, maybe Lucas can’t tell what he’s thinking because suddenly Lucas’ warm hands are gone from the side of his Eliott’s face, and moving instead to cover his own as he steps away from Eliott.

“Fuck,” he moans, hiding his face in his hands, “I am so sorry, Eliott. I don’t know what I was thinking.” He moves his hands, letting his arms drop to his sides, but he’s looking at the ground. “I just, I don’t know, I let myself get excited when you held my hand and…”

“Lucas,” Eliott whispers, as his brain catches up with him.

“Fuck,” Lucas says again. “I’ve just had a crush on you for so long and Yann was saying…” He manages to lift his eyes then, locking onto Eliott’s. “Well it doesn’t matter what Yann was saying. It’s fine if you don’t feel the same–”

Eliott doesn’t let Lucas finish. He can’t. Not when he’s looking so sad under the yellow glow of the streetlamps, his hair messy from the wind, his cheeks pink from the cold (and a little from the moment, Eliott thinks). He reaches out, one hand clasping Lucas’ wrist and he pulls him close, the other hand reaching up to brush along Lucas’ cheekbone, moving to wrap around the back of his neck.

And then their lips are touching again, only this time it’s stronger, more sure, because Eliott knows. I’ve just had a crush on you for so long.

It takes a minute for Lucas to catch up but then he’s relaxing in Eliott’s embrace and he’s kissing Eliott back, strong arms wrapping around Eliott’s waist, pulling him closer. They sway into each other on the sidewalk, lips moving, Lucas grasping at the front of Eliott’s jacket, Eliott cradling Lucas’ face in his hands.

It’s like a dam has opened and Eliott can’t get enough. He pulls back from Lucas slightly, laughing, unable to stop the smile that’s spreading on his face. 

“So if you couldn’t tell, I have a crush on you too,” Eliott says, letting his thumbs dance across Lucas’ cheeks.

Lucas grins at him, shaking his head slightly. “I think I got that,” he whispers, closing the space between them again.

Lips touch, mouths open, and the line, the one they drew for so long, is smashed to pieces. But they don’t think twice as they leave it shattered there on the sidewalk. With Lucas’ hand in his, for real this time, Eliott thinks there something to be said for breaking rules.

[opheliasbrokenmind]

a love that should have lasted for years - tommy shelby

word count: 2.7K+

a/n : omg i really can’t believe rn i’m finally sharing this one with you. confession: this was my first draft for peaky blinders and i just finished writing. i hope you’ll like that one. i’m always open and waiting for your requests <3

‘what happened had happened, you can’t fix me’ he said, without a sign of emotion on his beautiful face. ‘at least I can try’

Thomas Shelby. You repeated his name in your mind, over and over. You couldn’t help but remember the memories. The memories that once good ones, but now you were afraid of them. Tommy was your best friend. You grew up together, you were living with your father in Small Heath and that’s where you met him. He was three years older than you but the age difference never was an issue between you two. You first saw him at school and it didn’t take much time to you became close friends. He always treated you like you’re his sister, like you’re family.

Well, you can’t know just one Shelby, right? Soon you met with his brothers, Arthur and John. Then he introduced you to his aunt, Polly. She always treated you like you were her daughter, and of course, you already knew Ada. Tommy and you were always together, he often came to your house. Your father didn’t like him at first, he thought he was a silly boy who has bad intentions for his daughter. But after a few times, he realised that he was all wrong. The way Thomas treated you, his kind smiles and gentle gestures for you made your father like him. He saw Thomas as his own son, always made sure that he is alright.

Thomas was quite shocked when your father patted his shoulder proudly, he couldn’t help but the tears were already in his deep blue eyes. You noticed something was wrong. Instantly you held his hand and ran out. Once you arrived at your secret place, he tried to hide his watery eyes but he failed when you hugged him tightly. He was nearly sixteen when this happened, you were thirteen. You asked what was wrong and he told you everything, all the things his cruel father did to him and his siblings. Your breath got caught in your throat while you listened to him. That was the day you promised Tommy, you said that you’ll always be there for him.

You were kids, but life wasn’t that simple and things changed. You didn’t realise you had fallen for him until you were fifteen. It took almost five years to understand what you felt but when you accepted it, it was too late. Your father passed away and when your uncle came to the funeral, he said that you have to move their house in Liverpool. You refused him but he didn’t listen to you. His wife came to your room to pack up your things, you ran from home to find Tommy. When you found him in a pub, he was silent. Then he realised that you were crying and he furrowed. You left the pub and went to his place.

You told what your uncle said to you, said that you don’t want to go but you had to. He didn’t want to make things harder for you but he felt his heart broke. He couldn’t help but yell and you cried more. Once you were both silent, you spoke. ‘I... I don’t want to confess this now but I know that I won’t have a chance later. I love you, Tommy. I understand that you see me as a sister, as a friend but I couldn’t help but feel that way. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.’ You finally decided to look at him.

His eyes were wide open and you saw the shocked expression on his face. You blushed deeply, already regretting what have you done. Then he lifted up your chin and with his other hand, he wiped the tears away. He brushed your cheek with his thumb and leaned to you. ‘I love you too, y/n.’ was all he said before connecting his lips with yours. It was a soft kiss, a very smooth one. He gently touched your neck and you melted into the kiss. When you broke the kiss you gasped for air, your breaths unsteady. You were both blushed this time and he walked with you to your home. Before leaving, you hugged him tightly, whispered that you love him and promised him that you’ll come back for him. You shared a quick kiss and you didn’t mind your uncle.

You moved to Liverpool and wrote him letters, nearly every day. Tommy never wrote back. One year later you gave up but never spent a day without thinking about him. You still wore the bracelet he gave to you, you still remembered your memories. You studied psychology at college and even worked with some soldiers after the war. With your patients’ words, you couldn’t imagine what people had been through. You never wanted to think that Tommy was dead, a part of you always wanted to believe that he was alive. But you couldn’t go there because you were afraid. What if he forgot you? What if he died in the war?

Someday one of your professors from college called you and said that he had a job for you. You accepted his offer without thinking, but then you realised that you have to move Small Heath for the job. You didn’t want to make the professor disappointed so you packed up your things and took a train. Now you were walking in the streets, the air was thick and it was hard to breathe. It was just like how it was when you were a child. You left your suitcases in a hotel and went to a pub called Garrison.

When you came in there the men looked at you hungrily, you rolled your eyes and continued to walk. You ordered a glass of wine and sat one of the chairs near where the bartender stood. You realised that one of the men was preparing to make an attempt to you, but a voice stopped him. ‘Don’t you fucking dare to touch her.’ It was a woman and her voice was sharp. You turned to her and saw her face, her eyes were so familiar. You knew these eyes, darker than Tommy’s... Ada Shelby.

‘Ada?’ you whispered and her eyes widened, ‘y/n! You came back??’ She screamed and hugged you tightly. ‘Aw, I missed you, too.’ You said and smiled at her. She was looking at you now, ‘Woah, you look sexy as fuck. I can’t believe you came back.’ You smiled softly, a slight shade of pink covering your cheeks because of her compliment. ‘Well, you look stunning. How are you?’ You asked simply and something changed in her expression. She called the man who serves drinks, ‘Harry, can you bring us a bottle of whiskey and two glasses? Thanks.’

The man quickly brought the alcohol for you and Ada poured the drinks. ‘Trust me, love. We will need it.’ she said and after taking a sip from her drink, she told you everything. She explained what happened to her brothers after the war, the Peaky Blinders and what happened to Thomas. ‘After you left Birmingham, he dealt with a broken heart. He never forgot you but he started to make out with random girls and... She liked a girl, her name was Greta and she died. Then the boys went to war, they came back as men. Yeah, the war affected all of them but Tommy...’ She filled the glasses with whiskey again and took a long sip before continue.

‘Thomas was a completely different person, he never is the same since then. The last time I remember him chuckling was the last time I saw you two together. He changed y/n, and not in a good way. He’s just smoking and drinking all day. I don’t think he sleeps, he is a complete mess. He has problems, not simple ones and he is going worse. Believe me. Now his wife is dead and he is all alone in that big fucking house with Charlie. Poor kid doesn’t even know her mother is dead. I hope you won’t regret coming here, love. Maybe...’ She stopped talking and finished her drink, not looking at you. ‘Maybe what, Ada?’

She hesitated before talking, ‘Maybe you can save him, I don’t know. Maybe you’re his last chance? Please help him, please.’ You couldn't respond, just nodded. Ada gave you a little smile, ‘You can come to me whenever you want, now I have to go. I didn’t see Karl for hours.’ Then she left the pub, leaving you all alone. The things you heard were just too much for you. You felt awful about Thomas, not only as a friend. As a psychologist.

You already knew that his childhood was full of traumas. When you left him all alone, things got worse. After the girl’s death, he was probably shocked and then he went to war. The war... You couldn’t imagine what he’d been through, the pain he felt. Peaky Blinders only triggered the violence inside of him. Like these weren’t enough, his wife passed away and he was alone again with a son. There was no doubt that he had mental problems and also drinking and smoking addictions. 

You had no idea about what to do, so you decided to pour yourself another drink. When you finished it, you left the pub. It was afternoon, you went back to the hotel and changed your clothes. You wore a simple dress and your dark coat. You didn’t wear makeup, you didn’t need to. Your hair was shining, you sighed and called a car. You said the address Ada gave you, you were going to Tommy’s house. What were you going to tell him? You felt extremely nervous. The thought of a suffering Thomas made you shiver. He didn’t deserve any of this, you remembered the young boy always made you smile. When the car stopped you paid the money and the man left.

In front of you, there was a big house with a really big garden. The house looked glorious, you slowly walked to the door. When you knocked on the door nobody answered it. ‘Hello?’ you shouted but there was no response. You pushed the door and it swung open, you called again. After closing the door you walked and found a closed door. It could be his office, you took a deep breath and opened the door.

As you entrance to the room a voice stopped you, ‘Who the fuck are you?’ Tommy growled, his voice was deeper than you remembered. You finally looked at him and your breath got caught in your throat. You thought that he recognised you because his face softened for a moment, then he suddenly frowned. ‘I’m seeing hallucinations now, right? Fuck! I didn’t even see her since she left, that’s my imagination. FUCK! GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HEAD!’ He shouted and you stood there, frozen.

He closed his eyes and you walked slowly, ‘You’re not imagining this. It’s me, y/n.’ You said, not wanting to scare him. ‘What, you’re a new whore who’s offering me to act as my first love? They told me that they could be my dead wife but, that’s new. I’m not willing to fuck now, eh, you can fuck off.’ He spoke and looked at the door, showing you what he wanted. ‘Thomas, it’s me. I’m serious... I’m back, don’t you remember? I promised you that I’ll come back. I came back.’ He snorted, ‘Oh, you came back then? What does that fucking mean actually? You came back to who? To the boy you thought you loved when you were fifteen?’ His cold eyes stood on your small figure and he continued.

‘To the boy you never bothered to write a fucking letter? Was it that hard? You could send me a fucking sentence, but you didn’t. I thought you were dead. The fifteen-year-old girl I once knew is dead to me, just like that stupid boy. So, tell me, why are you here? What do you want?’ You listened to him as your lips parted, shock captured your face. ‘Y-you didn’t get my letters? I wrote to you, of course, I did. Nearly every day, for a year but you never wrote me back. That’s why I stopped writing to you, thought you didn’t want me in your life anymore.’

‘How could you think that I don’t want you in my life? I loved you y/n, I really did. But we are not kids anymore.’ His voice was sharp like it could cut you in half. ‘I didn’t come here to live our feelings again, I came for my job. I didn’t even know you were ...’ You waited for a moment and he interrupted with a question, ‘Didn’t think that I was alive, eh? Why’s that?’ You glanced away, ‘Cause I thought if you were alive, you would do something to find me.’ He lit himself a cigar and smiled, ‘I tried, love. I tried so many times before giving up. You can’t do anything. What happened had happened, you can’t fix me’ He said, without a sign of emotion on his beautiful face. 

‘At least I can try.’ You insisted, ‘I’ll work in the psychology clinic here, come and see me. Maybe we can talk?’ You walked to his desk and left your card on it. ‘You think I’m insane now? Just go, please.’ You didn’t have an answer so you left the house. It was worse than you thought. He watched you leave and once you left the room, he took the card. ‘y/n y/l/n. Psychologist.’ He smiled when he saw your surname, so you didn’t marry anyone. He lit another cigar and let the thoughts confuse his mind.

***

It was nearly eight in the evening, he knew where you’d be. He knew because after you left, the place became his secret. Tommy often found himself there, thinking about you and the chances you two never had. When he arrived you were already there, sitting under the tree you used to sit when you were just kids. ‘I knew you’d come here.’ You said, pointing him your side by your shoulder and he sat next to you, taking his cap off. ‘This place became my escape after you left.’ Your smile faded, ‘I’ll tell you something but first promise me you won’t do anything.’

‘I don’t promise things I can’t keep, y/n. Just say it.’ You sighed, looking down at your hands as he watched you. ‘I went to a pub after leaving your house, ran into Polly there. We... spoke.’ He arched an eyebrow, ‘About what?’ You looked at everything but him, ‘You and... The letters. Looks like they arrived here, but she didn’t want you to know. She said she was sad and afraid for you, she didn’t want to make things harder for you.’ You finally looked at him, finding a cold expression on his face, ‘You’re telling me that she fucking lied to me all these years? She told me that you forgot me, didn’t even care.’

‘I waited for years, Tom. I swear. But after the war, just thought you were dead.’ He rolled his eyes, ‘I sometimes wish I was.’ Worry captured your face, ‘How could you say this? There are people that love you, Tommy. They care about you.’ Thomas looked at you, tried to understand if you were really serious. He cracked a smile, ‘Right, ey? They care about me and in return, I fucking ruin their lives.’ He lit a cigar and inhaled the smoke slowly. ‘You’re wrong. I heard you are making the business legal, working at your hardest.’ He cut you off with his eyes.

‘I don’t know if you know but my life’s hell. I don’t expect you to stay.’ You shake your head, ‘I’m not an angel, you know that. I’ll stay because I’m here for helping people. Because you were once my friend and I loved you, Tommy.’ His face lightened a little bit, ‘Do you really think we can be friends again?’ You smiled, ‘We’ll try and see what happens.’ Thomas looked at you, ‘If only the things were different... We could’ve been happy if we had the chance, y/n.’ You nodded, taking his right hand in your small ones. ‘A love that should have lasted for years.’

Thomas came close to you and pressed his lips to your cheek, his mouth felt warm on your skin. ‘Better stand up now. I hope you have some good drinks in that clinic of yours. There’s a lot to catch up and it won’t be easy.’

[ajokeformur-ray]

Hi, this is for the matchup! I’m 19, 5’0” and I’m super pale. I have natural blonde hair that’s thick and wavy, and it reaches to my waist. I’m pretty thin since I don’t have an appetite for food lol. I like to wear pink/soft/pastel things and I tend to sew my own clothes. I’m an artist, makeup artist, pianist, music producer, and I work as a barista. Sometimes I’ll make clothes for people for extra money but im not a professional lol. Im very socially awkward (1)

Anonymous said: (2) I stutter when strangers try to talk to me. Even more if there’s eye contact. Surprisingly I’m okay with making friends, Im just easily embarrassed 24/7. Once I open up though, I can be giggly and ditzy. And I’m also super clumsy LOL. I have no dating experience, like at all. if I have a crush, I get so flustered around them- but at the same time follow them around like a puppy. LASTLY IM SUCH A CRYBABY. Stub my toe? I’m gonna cry about it. Anyways hope this is enough :0 thank you!

You sent this in way back in October so I don’t know if you’re still around, nonnie, but I hope that you see this! 💙 I’m sorry that it took me so long to write this; I’m making a concerted effort to only do matchups at the moment, mostly because they’re the bulk amount of requests I receive. Enjoy!💛

Total word count: 2, 023.

Arthur // wc: 1, 021.

There’s roughly a fifteen year age gap between yourself and Arthur so he would be really hesitant to even talk to you, let alone anything else, but Arthur is so captivated by you that he just has to go over and talk to you. Oh, if only he could have gotten it right the first time! Alas, he choked on his laughter and you knew not what to do other than to reach a careful, shaky hand out to this stranger’s back. You rubbed his back through his many layers and you could feel the vertebrae even through them. It pulled at your heart and you just knew that there was something between the two of you. You were both socially awkward and shy, but it was a definite case of two like souls recognising one another and from that meeting came nothing less than the very birth of serendipity. You’re eight inches shorter than Arthur, too, so he gets very protective of you and he loves nothing more than pulling you into the safe cage of his embrace. Arthur can sink right down into your body; you become enfolded in his arms and Arthur can rest his face in the crook of your neck or burrow right down into you. The two of you come home when you hold each other like this, and Arthur’s careful fingers run through your thick waist length hair, manually working out any tangles. For every snag he hits, though he tries his best not to, Arthur presses a kiss to your neck, where his face rests. It’s a  silent apology and one which makes you smile. Neither of you have an appetite for food, for various reasons, but still do you make sure that the other eats even a small something every day, just to make sure that both of you are taking as best care of the other as you can. 

You have a large variety of skill sets and Arthur is always left in complete awe of you. You like to wear soft aesthetics and you are extremely talented in many areas; Arthur wonders if there’s nothing you can’t do and though he doesn’t ever voice such a thing, it’s obvious in his eyes and the way that he just can’t stop staring at you when you’re sewing your own clothes or when you’re applying makeup. He watches your hands often, so entranced by the level of care which you put into everything that you do and he can get lost in just… observing you. Sometimes Arthur even goes to your work to watch you as a barista, finding comfort not only in seeing you but also in taking you in when you don’t think you’re being watched. Don’t you know how beautiful you are? Occasionally do you make clothes for others and Arthur considers you to be so selfless, so skilled, and he’s honestly baffled by you in the best way. “Wow, Y/N, you’re really… you’re really good at this.” and other such compliments are always sincere and spoken with love and care for you and for the things you do. Arthur loves listening to you play music, and sometimes he’ll even practice his acts as Carnival while you play on the piano, finding joy not only in Carnival but also in the music and in your company; in this moment does work, music and love all come together like fireworks, though the light doesn’t dim for even a moment.

You’re very socially awkward and when strangers talk to you, you can stutter; as a barista, you encounter hundreds of people a day, maybe thousands depending on the establishment you work at, and so Arthur wonders how you can be socially awkward and if you’re smoother with your words at work than you are at home. He’s always so proud of you and of how hard you work and Arthur hopes that by spending time with you will he be able to gain even a little piece of the ability to make friends, he can never seem to manage it no matter how hard he tries. You’re easily embarrassed and as your relationship develops and goes on does Arthur do his best to ease that, though he finds it cute when the two of you accidentally make eye contact and you blush and have to look away. You’re super clumsy but so is Arthur and the two of you are forever calling out a “Careful!” or a “Was that your knee or your shin?” whenever there’s a dull thud coming from where the other person is in the apartment. You’re giggly and ditzy when you’re comfortable and as you unfold into who you are around Arthur, he only falls more and more in love with you. Arthur coos whenever he finds a bruise on you and he taps the area around it gently. He can usually figure out when you did it due to where it is on you and he only presses a kiss there gently, as if his love for you will seep through the pores of your skin and heal you from the inside out. You cry when you hurt yourself, and Arthur is always there to wipe your tears away with calloused thumb pads, gentle eyes and and open arms. He’s there for you, no matter what, and though he hates how sometimes you get hurt, he knows that you can’t help it.

Neither of you have any dating experience so a lot of what you have together is like slowly dipping your toes into a bath to test out the temperature before you slowly, slowly, ease yourself in until you’re submerged. You both get flustered around your crush so a lot of the time one or both of you is blushing. You fall in love together hard and fast but neither of you ever want it any other way. You’re both devoted to your love and to what you have together and it means that you will have many happy years together. Arthur loves you for you and nothing and no one will ever change that. 

Joker // wc: 1, 002.

By now, you and Arthur know each other like the backs of your hands. There is little that you don’t know about each other and you are settled into the love which you have for each other. The roughly fifteen year age gap which used to bother Arthur doesn’t affect him anymore; you are a fully consenting adult who knows her own mind and what she wants, so there is no issue with anything! Your waist length blonde hair is still something which Joker admires and running his hands through it is like touch liquid gold; his fingers are more welcome within the strands than your hairbrush and after you have washed it, he likes to help you take care of it. Morning and night will he brush it out for you if you ask him to, and he likes to hold entire locks as he nuzzles his painted visage into your neck. Occasionally will he leave kisses there and with the eight inch height difference it’s only too easy for Joker to literally wrap you up in his embrace. You are safest in his arms and Joker always feels an almost possessive surge of protectiveness overcome him whenever he’s holding you, so deeply does he want to keep you safe from all which seeks to bring you harm. With his new name came everything he didn’t want and Joker uses it to his advantage when he knows that he can protect you. There is nothing that he wouldn’t do for you, and even though it’s Joker, now, that’s one thing which will never change, along with his undying love for you.

The things that you like to wear are quite soft aesthetically speaking and this is such a beautiful contrast to Joker’s own, which is deliberately loud and striking as now does he want to be noticed. You are extremely creative, skilled and life can be chaotic, and Joker is always in awe of you. That’s another thing which has never changed. You work extremely hard and Joker does what he can to take care of you, just as he always has, and much of what you have together is automatic for the both of you. You’re a makeup artist and sometimes Joker asks if you would like to put his makeup on for him; it’s an excuse to have you close enough to touch, a reason to spend more time with you, and a way to bond with you even more. He’s rather meticulous with the way he applies his greasepaint so when you did it for the first time and he realised that you had his method memorised, he chuckled; it was a sound saturated in light and in hope and at night does the sound reverberate inside your head. When you’re working in the apartment, Joker typically leaves you alone; he knows by now how you work and the conditions you prefer to work in and he does everything he can to preserve them for you. When you play the piano, Joker likes to listen. He will stand by the window, looking out at the city, and his eyes will close, his breath catching in his throat the longer he stands there. He loves you so deeply that sometimes does he wish that the refrains of the symphonies you play would sink deep within his mind, to become one with him so that always is a piece of the magic you hold dear to you with him forever.

You stutter when strangers talk to you and Joker isn’t much better; though he hides behind the confidence the city thinks he has in order to talk to people. You’re very socially awkward and so is Joker; there’s gaps in his knowledge about social conventions and the way social exchanges work but he tries to stay close to you when the two of you go out together so that he can figure it out for himself. It is easy for you to make friends and though he has ‘followers’, Joker still craves so desperately to be truly seen and understood. So far, you’re his one and only and Joker will never be able to thank you enough for loving him as hard and as deeply as you do. He tries every day to thank you for the gift which keeps on giving, your love for him, but he has no way of knowing that you want to thank him for loving you as hard as he does. You’re easily embarrassed and very clumsy and these two things don’t mix very well. You cry often and Joker always chuckles, cups your face in his hands with his fingers smoothing your tears away, and presses a tender and bruising kiss to your forehead. He tries to soothe your pain with his love, which is something you have always done for him, and sometimes when you trip on your way past him, he will swoop you up in his arms and dip you before he kisses you. “I know you said you fell for me, Y/N, but did you have to put on a show?” and other such things which make you blush more, which only makes Joker giggle, which makes you blush... it’s a never ending cycle sometimes but the two of you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

In conclusion, then, you and Arthur Fleck are truly meant to be. So much of what you have together was slow and hesitant but you fell together and then never stood back up; there are challenges and difficulties but you work through them together. You have such a deep love for each other and it keeps you coming back together again and again. You are young and he worries that he’s holding you down, holding you back, but you always assuage his fears and in turn does he soothe yours. There’s nothing you can’t make it through together, and just as Gotham got what it deserved, so too have the both of you.

[whatissleepeven]

Cursed

Fandom: Fate/Grand Order

Pairing(s): Shadow Archer/Caster! Cú, hints of Archer I Heroic Spirit EMIYA/Lancer I Cú Chulainn

Genre(s): Angst, Fluff

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of blood, aaand... that's it, I guess, so enjoy! *I own nothing but the idea, and even then I might not...*

----

Caster was certain that he was cursed.

As he let the sounds of numerous conversations sink into his brain, the blue-haired Servant let out a small huff before putting a fry in his mouth. For some reason, he couldn't stop staring at two particular Servants as they bickered back and forth.

One of them was his Lancer counterpart, another Cú Chulainn. Instead of a staff - like he had - the other had a spear: Gaé Bólg. His crimson orbs had a fire lit in them, each word that fell from his mouth a hidden challenge.

And the other -

Lancer's arguing companion was an Archer dressed primarily in red, spiky white hair slicked back and gray eyes holding some amusement in them as he shot a sly remark to his companion. Although subtle, he carried himself with an air of grim resolution -- a far cry from the day he was summoned by their Master. Lancer was the main reason for this; he would not stop pestering the man until, eventually, he opened up to him.

- At least, that's how the story goes. Caster's not sure if they had a heart-to-heart or just fucked their problems away. Either or, the main point is that they look happy, and he was jealous.

Should he be? No - he's too preoccupied preparing runes for when his Master takes him out on a mission.

But is he?

...

Yes.

"I won last time, so give me some of your food!" God, they were loud. Caster could hear the Lancer from all the way over here. The Servant sounded confident, as if his declaration resolved the so-called "problem".

"In your dreams, Lancer. You are causing a scene; as such, in apology it is only right for you to give me a part of your share." The Red Archer countered, reaching over to snag three fries before popping one in his mouth. Caster could feel his scowl deepen, his annoyance getting to the point that he stood up and threw the rest of his untouched food out before walking away from the cafeteria. He was sure that he had gotten more than a few looks - Ko Gil looked ready to comfort him or something, what a ridiculous thought - but he couldn't bring himself to care.

That Lancer had it all.

Caster was just a bit older than Lancer, wiser than his battle-lusting counterpart. He reflected on his actions; Lancer sped forward without a second thought.

And somehow...somehow -

He had an Archer by his side.

Caster settled down at last in Chaldea's indoor garden, back against the solid bark of a maple tree and listening to the sounds around him. The place had grown in the past few months, housing an array of exotic and familiar plants as well as some wildlife. The artificial sun helped stimulate the small ecosystem, making sure the plants were cared for and allowing nocturnal creatures to sate their needs once it left the sky. Caster was a frequent visitor of this place, planting herbs and saplings if he felt up for it.

And everytime he visited, he longed to show the scenery to the one person that felt the farthest away from him.

"This is stupid, Cú." He grumbled to himself, resting his head against the tree and groaning in frustration. "Can't even get over a stupid little crush..."

----

"The sky here is nice, eh Archer?"

Caster grinned as he felt the nostalgic presence of the other Servant. The Grail War was in full swing at this point, and already Caster had seen his fair share of battles. The one he liked most of all was -

"If you're looking for another skirmish, then I regret to inform you that you won't get one Caster."

The Archer of this Grail War, a Heroic Spirit Caster didn't even know the name of, responded casually as he came to a stop next to him. Caster always found himself liking the way Archer's bangs fell over his eyes, complimenting their color and making the steel irises stand out. He shook himself to get rid of the thought, sighing at the words.

"Damn. Was hoping to get one last battle in before our Masters made an official alliance with one another." Caster cursed lightly, seeing Archer rest his arms on the railing next to him. He had a damn smirk on his face, the sky blooming in gentle crimsons and pinks due to the setting sun and it was doing things to Caster's heart that it really shouldn't be.

"If we put it under the pretense as just another "spar"..." Archer trailed off, leaving it to Caster's imagination to fill in the blanks. The blue-haired Servant grinned, staff already in hand as he whirled to face the other.

"Oh, you're on!"

----

Caster chuckled to himself at the memory, raising a hand to his face. It blocked out most of the sun, yet some rays peeked through to settle on him. His chuckles died away into a melancholic grin, the soft sound of a canary chirping reaching his ears.

I always lose everyone I hold dear.

"I'm pathetic."

----

"Archer!"

Caster ran. He was almost running as fast as he would if he was a Lancer at this point.

One minute everything was fine, then there was a sea of fire as far as the eye could see, the humans either having disappeared or died and Archer -

Archer left him behind.

"Archer!" Caster called put again, hating the desperation in his voice. He knew that the other was carrying some invisible weight on his shoulders ever since they met, and when this happened he was the grim but determined look in the eyes of a man broken by the world.

And he left him.

"Archer, I want answers damnit!" Caster growled, blasting a walking skeleton to smithereens with a quick wave of his hand. They were partners, weren't they? They had made a promise to have each other's back until only their Masters remained. He...He -

He couldn't afford to lose him, goddamnit!

A glimpse of red disappearing behind the corner of a building had hope rising within him, feeling the presence of a Servant. It was him! He knew it was him!

"ARCHER!!"

The Servant stopped, bewildered. Then, in a quiet voice: "...Caster...?"

"Yes, you idiot!" Once Caster got close enough he whacked Archer on the head with his staff. He was about to scold him for leaving when he saw the various wounds littering his body. "You're hurt." He stated bluntly, immediately regretting his decision to whack him. The wounds looked almost life-threatening, even to him.

"This is nothing. Caster, you need to run." Archer said quickly, a sense of urgency filling his tone.

"And leave you to face whatever has you quaking in your boots? Hell no!" Caster readied himself despite Archer's protests, staff hitting the ground in emphasis.

"You don't understand! Saber, she - "

Everything happened in slow motion.

Archer's eyes took on a look of fear - something he had never seen before in the usually unflappable man - as he reached for Caster -

"Excalibur..."

Caster felt himself being picked up, arms holding him close to a firm chest bridal style as Archer jumped -

"...Morgan."

- And a beam of light, one of twisted ethereal beauty, devoured the land they were on seconds ago. The whole area became blinding, and Caster had to close his eyes from the brightness as the world trembled at the power of the Holy Sword. Before he knew it he was back on solid ground, having been set down gently by his companion who grimaced at the damage.

"You...saved me." Caster said, quite intelligently. Archer chuckled, standing tall despite his injuries. It must've taken a lot out of Archer carry him, his brain noted in a daze . He could only think about how it had felt to be in those arms, safe and secure -

"Saber has seen it fit to restart the Holy Grail War, but it isn't the one we know anymore. Her True Identity is Arthur, King of Knights." Archer's voice cut through to him, and Caster blinked twice, thrice to refocus himself.

"...Archer. Do you think we can stop her, with just the two of us?" Caster had to ask. He wasn't even remotely strong in the strength department, and he was certain that his Wicker Man would be destroyed before it even touched her.

Archer grimaced, and Caster felt dread pool in his stomach. "My Noble Phantasm is the best option. There, I may be able to weaken her enough for you to use yours."

It was a plan. Shaky, but a plan nonetheless. "...Alright. I trust you."

And that was the beginning of the end.

----

"Caster?"

Caster tilted his head forward to see the worried yet curious eyes of his Master, their hands wringing constantly. He knew it was a nervous habit, and he couldn't help but wonder what made them so nervous. He opened his mouth to respond, expecting his voice to come out as mildly amused -

"What is it, Master? Another mission for me?"

- But he didn't expect it to sound so tired. God, what was happening to him? His Master's worried expression only deepened, their hands stopping their movements as a frown creased their face.

"...No, I just thought that you'd want to know that I - "

"...What did you do this time, Master?" Caster raised an eyebrow when he saw them pause, apparently trying to find the right words to say. It was usually very easy to talk to him; what had them so worked up?

His Master laughed nervously, and Caster's eyes narrowed. Nervous laughter was never a good sign. "I, uh - "

"Caster."

The minute that voice, the oh-so painfully familiar voice made itself known to his ears, Caster was on his feet in a second with his head whipping around to see Archer leaning against the side of the tree.

His mouth dropped open in surprise. It wasn't just any Archer...it was his Archer.

Even though the other was tainted by the mud of the Grail, he had a certain light in his eyes that was unmistakable.

"...Archer...?"

The Archer chuckled at his facial expression. "Yes, but I am now referred to as Shadow Archer since there are multiple other "me's" roaming this place."

Their Master was watching their interactions, some of their previous nervousness gone, and Caster felt numb. He...He honestly wasn't expecting this.

How many all-nighters had his Master pulled to summon his Archer?

Why would they do that for him?

Did he really deserve this second chance, after he had let Shadow Archer down the first time?

Caster swallowed, mouth dry. "Master...I - "

"I know how much that Singularity crushed you, Caster. Servant-Master dreams, remember?" The small smile that formed on their face faded, eyes softening. "This is the least I could do as thanks for helping Mash and I when we were at our lowest." They started to walk away, waving to the two Servants. "Have fun, you two!"

Once they left Caster let his gaze wander to Shadow Archer, realizing with a jolt that the other was already looking at him. "I've heard from our Master how much you missed me." Shadow Archer sounded amused, smug even as his molten gold irises danced in the artificial light.

"I-In your dreams, Archer." Damn him, damn him, damn him for making him stutter! Shadow Archer's eyebrow raised, clearly not believing him as he took a step closer. He opened his mouth, and Caster knew what he was going to say next.

Don't say it don't say it don't say it you stupid Archer -

"Hoh?"

HE SAID IT!!!

While Caster prided himself on still being able to read Shadow Archer easily, he felt his face burn in embarrassment. "I know you don't believe me, but you don't have to point it out!"

"But I didn't say anything of the sort." Caster had fallen for his trap once again, it seemed. He really needed to stop panicking in Shadow Archer's presence. "That must mean that it's true, then."

"You - !" Caster was pulled into a fierce embrace, warmth enveloping him as Shadow Archer hugged him.

"I missed you too, idiot." The Servant mumbled, cheek resting on Caster's hair. Caster had frozen at the suddenness, relaxing once he heard those words and genuinely laughing for the first time in months.

"Glad to hear that."

Maybe he wasn't as cursed as he thought he was.

[shytalia]

A Prince & a Pirate’s Fate - Chapter 11

— ♠ — ♠ — ♠ —

Chapter Eleven

Start at Chapter one here:https://shytalia.tumblr.com/post/611878754309079040/a-prince-and-a-pirates-fate-usuk-fanfic

Also available on my AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shytalia

— ♠ — ♠ — ♠ —

Getting back to the ship, the first thing the pirate did was take Peter out of the rain and back to his room. He gently laid his brother down on his bed and pulled off the boy’s soaked jacket and shoes so he wouldn’t be so wet.

Alfred followed as quickly as he could manage, still weak from nearly being knocked out twice. Still, this was a hell of a lot better than being sliced in half by Arthur. After he reached the room, he saw the captain busying himself with tending to Peter’s basic needs of undress, which Alfred thought was smart on Arthur’s part. As hurt as he was and since he was apparently ailed by some sort of illness already, catching a sickness from being stuck in wet clothing was not idle for the young boy.

The prince hung quietly by the door frame, ignoring his own pain in favor of watching Arthur move around the room. In a happier situation, he would have complimented the Brit in how perfectly he did literally everything and that he liked to watch him work. Then, those green eyes were on him again.

“Stay with him a moment,” Arthur told him and without another word, squeezed past him and out of the room.

Alfred didn’t think the older man would have wanted to leave Peter’s side for even a moment, but didn’t ask. He had little chance to considering how quickly Arthur had left the room anyway. Slowly, he pushed himself off the door frame he had been leaning against and stepped into the bedroom.

By this point he was familiar with Peter’s room since he had come in here to bring him meals and sometimes he even sat and just talked to him. It was surprisingly easy to talk to the younger Kirkland despite their age difference, and Alfred assumed it was because he fancied having kids of his own one day.

Peter was still breathing heavily, but thankfully it hadn’t seemed to get worse on their way to the ship. Alfred slowly eased himself into the chair by a small, wooden desk and watched the sleeping boy with tired eyes. Despite not getting worse on the way back, Alfred feared that if he turned away for even a moment that Peter would stop breathing all together.

It wasn’t long before he could hear swift steps clacking on the wood floor out in the hallway and only moments later Arthur appeared back in the room. He dumped a few things into the desk Alfred was sitting by but paid him little mind as his hands started working.

Alfred wasn’t sure entirely what was happening but felt it best to not say a word. Instead, he opted to simply watch Arthur work diligently on his task. It didn’t take long to realize the Brit was creating some sort of potion, pooling together ingredients of herbs, liquids, and even ones Alfred couldn’t really recognize. He mixed them together in a small bowl, muttering to himself quietly at moments so softly Alfred couldn’t make out the words. Even so, he recognized the action as a sort of chant, no doubt a magical one to bestow upon the potion and give it an arcane benefit.

When the mixture was complete, Arthur carried the bowl to the bed and knelt on the floor beside it. Carefully, he lifted his brother’s sleeping head and put the bowl to his lips, slowly easing the potion into his mouth. Once he was sure Peter had had enough, he separated and was satisfied to watch his breathing start to ease a bit. It was still a little forced, but he sighed in relief nonetheless at the improvement.

“What was that? Did that heal him?” Alfred asked, eyebrows raised in amazement. Arthur hadn’t even needed a spellbook to tell him what to do!

“No, but it helps with the pain.” The shorter man answered quietly, not wanting to wake his brother from his much needed rest.

“Oh.” With not much else to say and realizing they probably shouldn’t spark a conversation here and now, Alfred closed his mouth once more to simply observe Arthur work.

After giving Peter the potion to help with his pain, Arthur gently brushed some hair out of his brother’s face. He looked down at him for a few moments in silence before reaching over him and lying one of his hands on his chest, above his heart. Again, Alfred heard him mutter something under his breath, but this time his hand glowed a dim green color. It was similar to when he had used that paralyzing spell before, but it wasn’t as bright or vivid. This time it was a relaxing color and it was easy to tell it was some sort of healing aid.

Now, Arthur spoke again, but more clearly this time. It was somewhere between a chant and a prayer.

“Gentle bringer of union, I beseech you. Hear me, divine goddess.”

Turning his glowing hand, Arthur lifted his other to reveal a small knife. He brought it slowly to the inside of his palm, still illuminated with a soft green. He pierced the skin there, allowing his blood to pool in his hand. Then, he dropped the knife in favor of digging in his shirt, easily pulling out a small necklace. Alfred recognized it as the goddess’s symbol.

Arthur placed the small jewelry in his palm, allowing it to press into his wound just slightly. The green glow shifted into a gentle pink, the color swirling around his bleeding hand like thick smoke.

“May you accept this sacrifice Of unwavering bonds And lift from my beloved their suffering.”

The Brit stood like that for a few minutes, his eyes never wavering from the smaller form lying in front of him until he finally pulled his hand away as it stopped glowing. He wiped the blood away with a cloth and dropped it on the table with the rest of the discarded ingredients.

Alfred had a million questions circling in his head at the moment, but before he could speak, Arthur stopped him.

Without turning around to face the other man, the pirate spoke.

“Go back to your room.” He told him, though the command was not forceful and sounded more like a simple request.

Despite his questions, Alfred complied and hobbled his way across the hall. He was sure not to bring any pressure down on the parts of him that hurt the most as he sat on his small bed.

Occasionally he could hear small noises from across the hall and assumed it was Arthur caring to Peter or cleaning up his things. After a few minutes of sitting by himself, he noticed the absence of the sounds and decided there was no point in staying awake any longer. Slowly, he pulled his legs onto the bed and laid down, letting out a sore groan as he did so. He was in pain but it was bearable, at least for now. He only hoped it didn’t get worse in the next few days or he may not be able to move at all.

He wasn’t sure when but he eventually drifted off to sleep, rocked by the waves under them and the fatigue of fighting. He only awoke after he became vaguely aware of someone standing over him.

His eyes snapped open and he jerked back, causing his already stressed body to tense up in protest.

“Blimey, you’re awfully jumpy.” Arthur muttered, staring blankly at the panicked look on Alfred’s face. The Brit had been trying to get a better look at his wounds while he was asleep, but he guessed his presence didn’t go unnoticed too long. He sucked his teeth and stood up straight again and turned around.

Alfred’s back pressed against the wall, having jumped nearly out of his skin and away from whoever it had been near him while he slept. It took some time for his heart to stop pounding in his chest after he realized it was only Arthur.

“W-What are you doing in here?” He asked, trying to relax. It was only then that he noticed Arthur had covered his bedside table with items similar to what he had brought in Peter’s.

“Hmm. What’s it look like? I came to help you.” Arthur answered. “I told you to go to your room, not pass out.” Though considering Alfred’s injuries and what he had sustained, it was a miracle he was able to stay awake as long as he did. “Here, drink this. It’ll ease some of the pain.” The Brit turned around and held out a bowl, filled with what looked like the same stuff he had given to Peter earlier.

Now that his heart was starting to slow down and his body relaxed after realizing he wasn’t actually going to be murdered in his sleep, Alfred slumped dramatically. He was definitely more sore now that the adrenaline from the day was wearing off.

“Thanks...” The prince muttered, taking what he was given and bringing it to his lips. Instantly, he grimaced.

Arthur chuckled at the reaction and put his hands on his hips, waiting expectantly for Alfred to continue drinking despite the taste. “I never said it would be good. But it’ll help.”

And it did. Alfred didn’t even have to wait very long, only a few seconds after finishing the potion, he could already feel some of the pain lifting from his body. It wasn’t a permanent fix, but it helped a lot for now.

“That’s amazing.” He noted, because it was. He was positively impressed with Arthur. However, as he looked up at the captain still just standing there, he couldn’t help but feel confused. “Why are you here?”

Arthur scoffed. “Are you daft? I just told you, I’m here to help you.”

Alfred only frowned at that. “That’s what I mean.” He replied. “Why?”

“What do you mean why? Do you not want my help?” Arthur was frowning now, mirroring Alfred’s confused expression.

“I didn’t say that. I just...” The taller blonde started, trying to figure it out himself as well. Something about Arthur being in here and helping him like this felt odd to him. “I figured you’d just tell me to sleep it off.” He concluded.

“Mn, I did think about that.” Arthur admitted, taking a moment to pace around the room with a thoughtful hum. Considering it was such a small space, he didn’t get very far before he had to turn around and come back. “But, you helped Peter. Despite everything that happened, you tried to keep him safe before anything else.”

“You mean despite you trying to kill me?” Alfred asked, noticing the way Arthur frowned deeper at that.

“Despite that and the fact you were seriously injured yourself...and that you watched what I did to Mathias.”

“What’s that have to do with anything?”

Arthur’s frown raised and turned into another disbelieved laugh. “Surely you aren’t serious.” But when Alfred didn’t say anything, he knew he really was. The Brit shook his head and crossed his arms. “You’re saying you’re fine having watched me do what I did? After I mutilated a man right in front of you?”

“I can’t say I exactly liked it.” Alfred’s stomach turned just from imagining it. “Mathias was a jerk and I wanted to beat the shit out of him but what you did...” What Arthur did had been sadistic and cruel. It was horrifying. But, he didn’t want to say those words out loud, so the sentence hung unfinished in the stiff air.

But, the horror of it hadn’t been all that happened either.

“You completely changed the weather.” Alfred gasped as if that piece of information had completely been forgotten. Of course it hadn’t, but he had been too distracted until this point to really comprehend it. He still didn’t fully get it. “How the hell did you do that?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Arthur’s frown was back, seemingly impatient and unamused. “It was just a strange coincidence is all.”

“What? No it wasn’t!” Alfred fought. He had seen it with his own eyes, Arthur had been the source of it all, the wind, the waves, the clouds. That had all been from Arthur.

“Do you know how ridiculous you sound right now?”

“I don’t care, I know what I saw.” Alfred argued, more stern than he would usually use with Arthur. He was almost surprised by the tone that came out of him, but Arthur didn’t give it much reaction. He supposed that was a good thing, otherwise he might’ve been in trouble for talking back like that.

“Think what you want.” Arthur went back to the items on the table, cleaning them up and organizing them to be collected more easily.

Suddenly, the idea of Arthur leaving pulled at Alfred’s chest.

“What was that thing you did to Peter earlier?” He asked quickly, both to stop the Brit from leaving and just because he was actually curious. “How’s your hand? That was some sort of spell, right?”

Arthur stopped what he was doing and looked down at his palm, now wrapped with bandages stained a dark crimson. “It was a spell to promote healing and to invoke the goddess.” He explained.

“But what was all that about unions and bonds? And why did you have to cut yourself? Shouldn’t a healing spell, you know, heal you not hurt you?” Alfred pondered, sitting up more now that his pain was subsiding a bit.

Arthur didn’t expect so many questions and he turned to glance at Alfred with a quizzical look. “The blood acts as a sacrifice, I suffer so Peter’s pain will end.” He told him. “It also represents us as family, our shared blood.” When Alfred looked confused, he felt compelled to elaborate. “It’s a specific spell, one that can only be used between people with a bond, like family. It's more powerful than any normal healing spell.”

“So...would it work on people who aren’t your family? Like friends or something?” Alfred asked.

Arthur’s response was a shake of his head. “No, that’s too superficial.” He said. “I mean a true bond. Family is easy, it’s a blood relation that binds us together.”

“Okay...what about partners? Married couples?” Alfred urged, genuinely curious. He wondered if the marks they shared bonded him and Arthur together like that.

“You’re awfully interested, aren’t you? Did you get some brain damage in that fight?” Arthur raised an eyebrow, causing a small blush to creep onto Alfred’s face.

“No!” He protested quickly. “I just...I don’t know. Watching you do something like that was...amazing.”

Of course the castle had alchemists and mages that specialized in healing, but there was only so much they could do. Magic had its limits, and often that limit was the extent of the user’s own sorcerous power. The weaker the mage, the weaker their magic would be. It was simple. But Arthur? He was not weak, Alfred could see that clearly. And still, the Brit was here helping him, and had been so gentle with Peter it was almost as if he were just a normal, older brother, and not a terror of the seas. It was almost funny.

“I don’t see what’s so amazing about it.” Arthur said quietly, taking a moment to pause before he continued. “You don’t seem to have an issue with blood magic.”

“Blood magic?” Alfred repeated back, confused. Then he realized, that spell had required blood, so it made sense. A lot of people frowned on that practice.

He knew that there were certain types of magic that were considered taboo or even forbidden. Things like blood magic were often seen as distasteful, but not technically unlawful as long as the blood was humanely sourced from consenting givers. Other types of magic, more serious in nature such as necromancy, were an act against the gods and strictly prohibited. Usually, anyone caught performing any sort of forbidden, dark magic was punished severely. If, that is, they survived long enough for a punishment to be given. Dark magic was forbidden for a reason, it was simply too dangerous and too unstable. Often times those who attempted it suffered incredible, physical ailments that often led to a painful demise.

“I mean, if it helps Peter, I don’t mind. I just wish you didn’t have to hurt yourself to do it.” Alfred was being honest and Arthur could see it in his eyes.

The shorter blonde cleared his throat, turning back to his ingredients and began to round them up.

“Lay back down,” The Brit instructed, gathering his things in his arms.

Alfred frowned as soon as he realized the other was leaving again. He opened his mouth to say something, but he wasn’t even sure what he could say to stop Arthur from leaving.

Thankfully, Arthur beat him to it.

“I’ll be right back.” The captain told him. “Oh, and take your clothes off before I return.”

“H-Huh?” The prince stuttered, not getting an answer except for a laugh before the pirate was gone.

Nervously, Alfred sat there in silence alone. Had Arthur been serious? He really couldn’t tell. Unable to decide, he opted for the safe option and remained clothed, until Arthur came back into the room a few minutes later and frowned at him.

“I thought I told you to undress, idiot.”

“You were serious?” Alfred’s blush returned, lingering on his cheeks. “Why?”

“Because, do you not want to heal?” The captain walked back to the nightstand and dumped what he was holding onto it carefully. “I’m going to tend to your wounds. Can’t very well do that with your clothes in the way.” He noticed the peculiar look Alfred was giving him and the slight rosiness on his cheeks. “What? Did you seriously think I was going to bed you in your state? You’d very well pass out before either of us finished.” He smirked.

“I-I don’t know...maybe I did.” Alfred muttered, sitting back up and began to pull off his shirt when he felt eyes boring into him. He laughed a little nervously. “This would be a lot easier if you didn’t watch me like that.”

Arthur made no attempt to humble himself, and instead crossed his arms and continued to observe the younger man as he removed his shirt. “I told you to be ready before I came back, it’s your own fault I’m staring.”

Even if he had thought Arthur was joking, he could give him a little privacy by turning away! Still, he couldn't help but notice that something in Arthur's eyes gleamed with interest, as if he liked what he saw.

“Get on with it already,” The Brit rolled his eyes. “Don’t act so embarrassed, we just shagged last night. This is hardly anything to blush over after that, isn’t it?”

He had a point, but it didn’t stop Alfred from turning red still. Slowly, he pulled off his shirt and discarded it to the side of the bed. “I don’t think there’s much to worry about on my legs, so don’t worry about those.” He had to remind himself to be wary of how much Arthur saw of him. One mistake and his identity could be found out if Arthur caught sight of the mark on his hip.

“Was that really so hard?” Arthur smirked, eyeing his naked chest a few moments longer and Alfred swore he saw something dark cross over his captain’s face for just a moment. Then, he was shuffling with the new items he had brought in. “Lie down, I’m going to treat your wounds while the potion is still in effect. You’ll be in less pain that way.”

What came next was unreal for Alfred. He laid back, easing onto the sheet and watched quietly. Arthur dipped a rag into a bowl, filled with what he had said was water and some soothing oils to help the healing process and to ensure he got no infections. Then, those pale hands were on him, gently running the towel across his bruised skin.

He was shocked at how tender Arthur was being, making sure he wasn’t pressing down too hard and being careful not to make the experience painful. Even when he did accidentally press down a bit too hard on one of his cuts, Alfred had let out a hiss of discomfort, and Arthur immediately removed his hands.

“Sorry,” the Brit apologized quickly and waited for Alfred to be ready before he continued.

Alfred laid there, watching Arthur’s face and enjoyed the feeling of being washed like he was. The pirate wrapped a few deeper cuts with bandages and even helped him roll over onto his stomach so he could get his back as well. It was surprisingly soothing, being looked after like this by his captain. Alfred couldn’t help the satisfied sigh that left him at the relaxation. He could practically feel Arthur’s smirk when he heard it.

“You like this, huh?” The shorter blonde smiled smugly.

“Hmph, it is sort of like a massage. Who wouldn’t like it?” The prince replied.

“If you say so.” Arthur chuckled softly, finishing up his work and placing the soiled rag into the bowl to be discarded later.

“How’s your hand?” Alfred couldn’t help but ask. He didn’t want Arthur to strain it. He knew he was tough but that didn’t mean he didn’t feel pain. He didn't want him putting too much pressure on it.

“It’s fine.”

Alfred rolled onto this back once more, unsatisfied with the short answer but he wasn’t surprised by it.

“We’re done. Get some rest.” The pirate told him, ready to leave once more.

“Hold on,” The prince sat up on his elbow and reached out in time to wrap his fingers around the other man’s wrist, gently pulling him closer.

“Alfred, what on earth are you--” Arthur didn’t have time to finish his sentence before the taller man had pulled his injured hand to his lips, softly giving the bandages around the wound a small kiss.

“Thank you for helping me, Artie.” Alfred spoke lowly, his eyes half lidded as he gave the other man’s hand another, small kiss. “I wish I could take away your pain too.”

Arthur was beside himself, watching with wide eyes as Alfred took his hand and gave it gentle affection. This wasn’t lust like last night, this was much, much deeper. He swallowed hard, feeling a weight building in his chest at the sight. He bit his lip, realizing he really didn’t want to pull away.

“Don’t fret over me, dear.” He finally managed to say, his voice so soft he surprised even himself with it. He reached over with his other hand, running it through Alfred’s wheat colored hair. “I’ve been through much worse. A little cut is hardly something to fuss over.”

Alfred kept the hand in his grasp, but stopped kissing it so he could look up at Arthur properly. The way those emerald eyes were staring down at him made him feel warm and his chest tightened as he stared right back into them. “I wish I could take all of it away...” He clarified. “...all your pain.”

He didn’t know what it was or what had happened, but there was a look buried deep in Arthur’s eyes that told a story he wanted to read. He longed to know everything about the captain, everything that made him smile along with everything that made him cry. He wanted to bundle up those fears and regrets and bathe him in love and affection.

He moved the Brit’s hand he held so that he could nuzzle his cheek into it. It hurt just a bit from the bruising on his cheek, but Alfred still closed his eyes and appreciated every second of it. He wanted to be able to touch Arthur this lovingly more and more.

Shockingly, Arthur still didn’t pull away. He allowed Alfred to use his hand to cup his cheek and even encouraged it by running his thumb over his captive’s skin in a soothing motion.

“Silly git,” Arthur said softly, making no attempt to remove himself from Alfred. “You’re still injured. Rest up, I will still be here when you awake.”

Alfred nodded, reluctantly letting go of Arthur and lying back on the bed, doing his best not to blush at the obvious way Arthur’s eyes scanned over his bare frame once more. He really was ready to get some sleep, even though the medicine helped with the pain, the fatigue was still very much there.

“Sleep well.” The Brit told him, collecting his things and walking towards the door. “And Alfred...thank you.”

Before he could question it, the man was gone.

[orthogonals]

how bittersweet this would taste

Rating: T Fandom: Merlin (TV) Word Count: 1536 Summary:   “No…” Arthur fumbled, the words falling heavy from his lips. “Not sleepy. Stay?” He peers at Merlin with wide blue eyes, his face open and hopeful, and damn— as if Merlin could ever resist Arthur like this, with walls down and posture loose and pretense dropped. As if he’d want to.

- OR: It's the night before Gwen and Arthur's marriage, and Arthur has a bit too much to drink. As always, Merlin's there for him.

[read on ao3]

“Jusff—” Arthur pauses to let out a belch, sagging bodily onto Merlin’s thin frame. Raising up a limp arm in a half-hearted gesture, he swings it around jerkily and nearly clocks Merlin’s head in the process.

“Justtt that way Merlin.” Satisfied that he had managed the words, Arthur abruptly lets his arm drop, leaning against Merlin’s shoulder with a dopey grin. Merlin only sighs, readjusting his grip around Arthur’s waist and shifting his dead weight into a more comfortable position.

“I know where your chambers are, Arthur.” Merlin allows himself a brief eye roll, secure in the knowledge that Arthur was too far gone to notice. “But I can’t carry you up the stairs. You’ve got to help me out, okay?” Arthur gave no indication that he had heard Merlin, instead lolling his head around to wave sloppily at a guard who had just walked past.

“Hey!” Merlin tugs sharply at the arm Arthur has slung around his shoulders. “Prat. Are you listening?”

“Yes. Climb stairs. Got it.” Arthur grins, squeezing Merlin’s shoulder. “You’re so…tense. Cheer up!” He pats Merlin’s cheek, eliciting a grunt of frustration and resignation. “Tomorrow, Camelot will finally have a Queen.” Arthur pronounces the words with rounded lips, his features settling into a blissed-out expression.

“Gods, I really am going to have to haul you up the stairs.” Merlin pokes Arthur’s stomach. “You’re not light, you know.” At that, Arthur looks at Merlin, his face twisted in confusion.

“Are you calling me fat?”

And Merlin surmises that if Arthur could still recognize an insult to his royal person, then he was damn well enough to get up the stairs.

*

Arthur clutches at the back of his chair for support as Merlin pushes him out of his grip.

Merlin didn’t know Arthur as the type to overindulge, especially at court feasts, but he supposes that the current circumstances justified any excessive celebration well enough. Morgana hadn’t been seen for months, not after she’d fled from the castle in defeat. And in peace, Camelot had flourished and flowered. Day by day, Merlin had watched as the poor and powerful alike turned towards Arthur with bright smiles and eyes full of stars, and he thinks there’s something seriously wrong in how swollen his heart grows with pride.

And tomorrow, a wedding revived, a coronation far too long delayed. He grows soft at the thought of Gwen, all dark eyes and full curls and patience and kindness, taking her destined place next to Arthur on the throne. Gwen, the stammering, shy girl Merlin had flirted with on the stocks and sent to the cells and saved from the stake. No one could hope to make a better queen, and if a tiny bit of him aches—the part that knows a piece of Arthur would belong only to Gwen and never to Merlin—well, he steadfastly ignores it.

Arthur stumbles again, sending papers flying to the floor as he sweeps clumsy hands across his desk in search of purchase. Finally grabbing onto a corner and steadying himself, he looks to Merlin with a happy smile, as if expecting a compliment. Merlin snorts.

“I’d normally draw a bath for you, but with the state you’re in, I don’t trust you not to drown.” Merlin pauses, assessing the situation. “Shall I help you into your bedclothes? Sire?” Standing with one hip cocked and arms crossed, Merlin glares down at Arthur, looking the picture of an annoyed nanny.

“No…” Arthur fumbled, the words falling heavy from his lips. “Not sleepy. Stay?” He peers at Merlin with wide blue eyes, his face open and hopeful, and damn— as if Merlin could ever resist Arthur like this, with walls down and posture loose and pretense dropped. As if he’d want to.

“Alright,” Merlin concedes, placing a steadying hand on Arthur’s shoulder and lowering him down on his chair. “Have any chores for me? The sword? The floors? The hearth?”

“Juuust. Sit.” Arthur commands, putting on a face of fond exasperation that may have been a tad adorable. Holding back another eye roll, Merlin obediently perches down on the floor and waits, wondering what an inebriated Arthur could want with Merlin.

Seeing that Merlin had followed his direction, Arthur quiets, settling into a hazy silence as his eyes turn glassy, lips curling into a soft smile. Merlin taps his fingers against his knee, waiting for Arthur to address him, but Arthur just relaxes into his daze, resting his chin on his palm. Seconds blend into minutes, the two men sitting across one another, only the occasional croak and chirp of wildlife sounding out as background.

With Arthur lost in his head, Merlin takes the rare opportunity to observe. He covers Arthur with his gaze, tracing the golden fringes of his hair, the regal bridge of his nose, the slight pout of his lips. And with every sweep of his eyes, he sends Arthur, husband-to-be, bittersweet well wishes.

You’d better live long and travel far with Gwen, Arthur. Tomorrow, you’ll be hers. And after that, I promise, I swear, that I’ll never again look at you and think thoughts only Gwen should. You have my word.

And Merlin’s quite adamant, even if he’s not sure who he’s swearing to— Arthur or himself.

The moments stretch like molasses, Arthur off in his own world, Merlin letting himself, for one last time, look at Arthur as a lover would.

Arthur’s voice breaks the silence, and Merlin snaps back into focus.

“Gwen’s so beautiful, don’t you think, Merlin?” Arthur’s face looks cracked open with joy, happiness sparking out in rays, and Merlin’s heart lurches in acceptance. No doubt what Arthur had reminisced about in his earlier stupor.

“Yes. She is a remarkable woman, and you are a lucky man,” Merlin allows, careful to agree without offending.

“She’s pretty, she’s strong, she’s… perfect.” Arthur continues, his brightness suddenly subdued as he looks at Merlin. “But why- ?” Abruptly, he cuts off, squinting at Merlin like a particularly hard to solve problem.

“Yes, sire?”

“It’s nothing,” Arthur snaps, but his words lacked bite. “You can prepare me for bed.” He sounded suddenly a bit more sober.

*

“Raise your hands a bit higher— there we go.” Merlin expertly pulls the tunic atop Arthur’s frame, tugging at the bottom to smooth out wrinkles. He secretly thinks that Arthur makes Merlin help dress him just so he can laugh when Merlin struggles, but Merlin likes this sometimes, likes preening Arthur like a proud mother hen.

When he looks down, Arthur’s already staring at him from where he sits on the edge of his mattress, an odd expression on his face.

“You’re pretty.” The words seem to slip out without Arthur’s notice, and he immediately reels back, sputtering. “I meant— I—”

Merlin’s heart, gone still at the sudden admission, picks up double speed. What if— maybe— was it possible? That maybe sometimes, Arthur too saw Merlin with eyes tinted gold? But— and Merlin steels himself— what good were useless words from an intoxicated king?

“Arthur,” Merlin says slowly. “It’s okay. You’re drunk. You didn’t mean it.” Arthur’s face looked pinched, but he nods mutely.

“Just go to sleep, okay? Big day tomorrow.” He stoops down, lays his hands on Arthur’s shoulders, meaning to help ease him into bed.

And suddenly, they’re face to face, nose to nose, blue clashing on blue. If he wanted to, Merlin could count the freckles on Arthur’s nose, name each individual eyelash from where they fan out against his skin. Arthur’s breath eddies out in a wisp, and Merlin’s tongue unconsciously darts across his bottom lip, wetting a trail across the pink flesh. Arthur’s gaze drops, and he leans in, almost spellbound.

Merlin knows that he could. They’re close enough that their breath mingles in the space between them, rising in warmth and heating their faces. Arthur and Merlin. Merlin and Arthur. Even the air seems to announce it, trumpeting the words and flowing out to leave only vacuum separating their lips. He could let Arthur chase away the last bit of distance with his mouth, could bring his hands up to clutch at Arthur’s stupid blonde hair when they kissed.

Arthur brings himself in further, pupils blown wide and heartbeat heavy in anticipation.

And his lips make contact with Merlin’s cheek.

The unexpected feel of skin seems to jolt Arthur back to reality, and he wrenches himself backward, flushed red and panting.

“Merlin! I’m sorry—” Arthur gasps out, eyes widening in panic.

Spots of pink decorate Merlin’s cheekbones and the tips of his ears. He places a hand back on Arthur’s shoulder.

“Remember what I said? You’re drunk. You need sleep.” Nodding firmly, Merlin guides a still mortified Arthur back down onto the bed. Sighing, he lifts the edge of the sheets, gently placing them over Arthur's body, vulnerable in the moonlight.

Arthur watches Merlin, brows crinkled and face still tinted with color.

Knowing he would regret it come morning, Merlin runs a hand softly through Arthur’s hair, giving him a small smile that seemed far too sad.

“Goodnight, Arthur. Sleep well.” He brings his hand down, fingertips lingering for a moment on Arthur’s cheek, then stands.

Arthur’s eyes are still on him when he leaves.

[kriscme]

One Life To Live

Hi, here’s my latest chapter.  As usual, subject to change if it suits the plot and it will all go on AO3 when it’s finished.   Thanks to Ronja for allowing me to write fanfic of her Hunger Games fanfic “The Chance You Didn’t Take” available on AO3 and FanFiction.  Chapter 22 Johanna makes sure that Marcus is well out of earshot before she speaks.

In a low voice, she asks, “Do you think I’m still invited to the wedding?”

I glance sharply at her, unsure whether she’s trying to be funny or not.  But, no, she’s serious.  As if the worst outcome from this fiasco would be a rescinded wedding invitation.

“Not if Lace has anything to do with it,” I answer.  I doubt Johanna was ever on the invitation list, anyway.   Peeta only mentioned Delly when he talked about the people from his side he could ask to the wedding.  Not Johanna, or Annie, or my mother.  I suppose Delly is the only one he has complete memories of.   It’s a wonder that Haymitch or I made the list.  “I’m probably not either,” I add.  “Peeta’s pretty mad.”

Johanna sits in same chair in my living room that she vacated earlier this evening.  And Marcus is in the kitchen, making hot chocolate.   I drop my head into my hands and groan.  What a horrible, horrible night.   To think I’ve been waiting months for some kind of breakthrough with Peeta and tonight I got my wish.  Only it wasn’t the one I’d been hoping for – the one where Peeta discovers that it was me he loved all along.  Instead I’m back to being mistrusted.  Maybe even hated. I go over in my head how this all came about, to try to make sense of it.  The evening started well enough.  Johanna and Max appeared to have put an end to hostilities, although I did note that Max made sure to sit at the opposite end of the table, well out of striking range. But Max had no cause to worry.   To his chagrin, Johanna ignored him.  All her attention was on Arthur.   And Arthur really seemed to like it.   I don’t think anyone had paid him so much attention in his life.  Johanna leaned towards him, intent on every word he uttered as if it were the most fascinating thing she’d ever heard.  She complimented him on his appearance, his knowledge of wine (Arthur appeared baffled at this - I think all he cares about wine is that it’s red, but he took the compliment anyway), his ambition, and, most importantly for Arthur, his business acumen. She even listened, mesmerized, as Arthur described in excruciating detail, of his plans to open a clothing factory.   It was puzzling to say the least. Johanna had paid only cursory attention to Arthur the last time they met.  Johanna likes her men to be a little on the wild side, and Arthur definitely isn’t that.   But when I saw Lace’s reaction, Johanna’s motives became clear.  She was trying to make Lace jealous.  And it was working.   Lace became quieter, less effusive, and obviously distracted.  There was a moment when Peeta seemed to sense something was wrong.  I saw him lean in and whisper something in her ear, presumably something to cheer her up.  Lace laughed her pearly laugh and kissed his cheek.  And then she went right back to watching Arthur and Johanna.

I tried to see it from Lace’s point of view.  I already knew she was possessive over him.  I consider myself a bit of an expert on this. It’s like when Madge braved a snow storm to bring morphling to ease Gale’s pain after the whipping.  Haymitch insinuated that there was something between Gale and Madge and I didn’t like it.  And when I reversed Gale’s and my situation in my head, and it was Gale who became another girl’s lover, and then returned home with her, living close by, and getting engaged to her.  I was overwhelmed with hatred for them both.  He is mine, I am his, I remember thinking.  And in that moment, I genuinely believed it.  But then, not long after, waking panicked from a nightmare, I wished that Peeta were there to hold me.   So, I didn’t set much store by it, what Lace was feeling right then.  When you’re at the crossroad, and there’s a path that hasn’t been explored, but will close forever if you don’t take it, it’s hard to let it go.  Even when, deep down, you know that the direction your feet are pointed in, is the right one.

 Peeta seemed a little distracted too. It’s like he had to remind himself that, as a good fiancé, he should be extra attentive.  So, even as he held her hand, bringing it to his lips occasionally, and making sure she was never without a drink, there was an absent quality to it.  If he had been paying attention, he should have slowed Lace’s drinking down.  Lace guzzled one cocktail after another.  It was like she was going down the list.   All that liquid had to go somewhere, and it wasn’t long before Lace had to go to the bathroom.   “I’ll come with you,” announced Johanna, rising quickly from her seat.  “Katniss, come join us?”  

“What?” I spluttered in surprise.  I had been deep in discussion with Marcus over what provisions we’d need for the camp.  I was about to say no thanks, but then saw Johanna making small jerking movements of her head, which I recognized as some kind of signal.  “Ah, OK.  I suppose it couldn’t hurt.” Lace immediately sequestered herself in one on the stalls.  She really needed to go.  Johanna and I were finished first.  While I washed my hands, Johanna stood at the mirror, fluffing her hair. Over the sound of a flushing toilet, Johanna whispered, “Whatever happens, just go along with it.  OK?” “OK,” I whispered back.  “But what do you – “   “Arthur is by far the most fascinating man I’ve ever met,” gushed Johanna.  Lace had just emerged.  “And I’ve met a lot of men.” “Yes,” I say, taking Johanna’s lead.  “He’s a man going places, that’s for sure.  And he’s very attractive too.  And so nice. Most men would be full of themselves, if they had half of what Arthur’s got going for him.  But he’s not like that at all.”  It was a little bit exaggerated, but mostly true. “It’s hard to believe that some lucky woman hasn’t claimed him by now,” said Johanna, as she applied lipstick in a cupid’s bow to accentuate her sexy pout.   “When I was at the salon the other day, Flavius told me that his female clients confessed to having the biggest crush on him.  Even Octavia.  He said she’s always finding an excuse to go into his shop.  The salon and the tailor shop are right next door to each other, you know.”  

“Well, she’s wasting her time,” said Lace, in an acerbic voice.  “Arthur would never go for someone like that.  He likes natural beauty.  He’s told me so.  Green skin, dyed hair.  It’s not the way to attract Arthur at all.”  She looked pointedly at Johanna’s red tipped spiky dark hair.  Johanna stared back at Lace’s.   Lace flushed uncomfortably.  It’s an open secret that Lace’s hair colour isn’t natural.   “Octavia isn’t green anymore.” I said. “She’s let the skin dye fade out. And under it was a beautiful peaches and cream complexion.  And the blue in her hair has gone too, leaving it a natural blond.  There’s nothing artificial about Octavia’s appearance now.”  Unless you count false eyelashes, fingernails and hair extensions.

Johanna gave herself a final appraisal in the mirror and then undid all the buttons of her shirt to expose a large expanse of bare flesh down the middle of her chest.   She wasn’t wearing a bra.

“Octavia is sweet enough.  But what Arthur needs is a woman.  Not some giggly little girl.  Someone who knows how to please a man and make him feel special.   If there was ever a man who deserved to be shown a good time, it’s Arthur.  And maybe I’m the one to give it to him,” said Johanna, with a suggestive wink, as she walked out the door. I turned to Lace with a shrug, as if to say, “what else can you expect from Johanna?”  But Lace barely looked at me and swept past without a word.  I felt a little ashamed. Maybe I shouldn’t have participated in Johanna’s attempt to manipulate Lace.   I wouldn’t like to have my feelings played with like that.  Besides, making Lace jealous over Arthur won’t help Peeta find himself. I returned to my seat, and was cheered to have Marcus waiting for me with a smile and a fresh drink.  Johanna went back to charming Arthur, making sure to strategically lean forward so that the underside of her breasts could clearly be seen beneath her shirt.    Arthur’s face was pink, but whether it was from titillation or embarrassment, it was hard to tell.  Lace was all over Peeta, smiling up at him, stroking his hand, but her eyes kept flitting to Arthur and Johanna.   And that’s how the night might have continued, if not for Max.   He’d been uncharacteristically quiet.  I guess he would have felt a little left out. Johanna had monopolized Arthur, and I had been mostly talking to Marcus.  That left Peeta and Lace, neither of whom were their usual sociable selves. I guess Max wanted to liven things up. Stir the pot a little.   “Hey, Johanna,” he called out.  “You seem to be missing half your shirt.  Should we take up a collection?” “Why don’t you take up a collection for the missing half of your brain,” Johanna snapped back.  “I don’t know how you got to be a teacher.   I’d hate to see your kids.” “So would I,” laughed Max, having taken no offense at all.   “Max is right,” chipped in Lace.  “It’s disgusting how you expose yourself like that. Do you really think people like seeing you naked?  It might be how people behave in the Capitol, where they have no morals.  But not in the districts.  We have standards here – something you evidently know nothing about.” Johanna’s brown eyes flashed with fury.  It was fortunate there were no axes nearby. One might have ended up in Lace’s skull. “Standards, eh?  Well, I’ve never lied about who I am.  Or had anyone doubt where my loyalties lie.  So don’t talk to me about standards, you hypocritical bitch. “ The colour drained from Lace’s face, and her mouth opened to say something but nothing came out.  Peeta stared at her in bewilderment.  She hasn’t told him, I realised.  I really thought she would have by now.  “Lace, what is she talking about?”  he asked. “What’s going on?”   Lace didn’t answer.  She just looked beseechingly at Arthur.   Arthur rose from his chair and went to her side.  “She hasn’t done anything wrong.  It was a misunderstanding, that’s all.  We can explain it later.  But here isn’t the place.”   “We?” asked Peeta, with voice raised. “How many people know about – whatever this thing I don’t know about is?   He scanned each of our faces in turn.  “Johanna?” Johanna said nothing.  She just looked down at the table, but an almost imperceptible sideways glance at me gave it away.   “Katniss, did you know?” he asked me in a hushed voice.  I could hear the hurt of betrayal. “Yes,” I said, unable to look him in the eye. “I found out about it when I was in 8 for Sateen’s wedding.  I told Haymitch.  We thought it better if you heard it from Lace.  We thought she would have told you by now.”   “So, everyone knows except me,” said Peeta. “I don’t,” said Max.  “Anyone care to enlighten me?”

“Just shut up,” I hissed at him.  I turned back to Peeta.  “We didn’t want to interfere.  You were so happy . . . and, well, it wasn’t our place.   We figured that if things got really serious between the two of you, Lace would tell you.   I’m sorry.” “You and Haymitch . . . this isn’t the first time you’ve kept things from me, is it?” My skin prickled at the tone of his voice. I sensed danger and the memory of a similar scene cut across my consciousness, of a dome of the Justice Building in 11, of broken furniture and thick dust.  Of Peeta, furious, because Haymitch and I hadn’t told him of Snow’s threats.   “No,” I whispered. Peeta made a swift sweeping gesture with his hand, as if his body remembered striking out at some phantom object.  “This – this – game you two play, where you tell each other secrets but keep them from me like I’m too inconsequential or stupid or weak to handle them.” “It wasn’t like that Peeta – “ I begin. “It’s exactly like that!” he said, his voice cold with anger.  “After all we’ve been through together, don’t I even rate the truth from you?”   “Of course, you do.  I’m sorry.  I’m sorry.” I was on the verge of tears.  I felt Marcus’s arm around my shoulders.  “I think it might be a good time to leave,” he said quietly in my ear. I nodded my assent.  People around us were staring, fascinated.  The gossips would have a field day with this.   “Jo?” said Marcus.   “Yeah, OK.” Johanna stood and retrieved her coat where it was draped over her chair.  “Sorry, Peeta.  You shouldn’t have found out like this,” she said, with a meaningful glare at Lace.  

The last image I had was Arthur consoling a sobbing Lace, Peeta watching us leave, and Max shrugging his shoulders at the onlookers.

Fuck, fuck, fuck!   All that effort in being scrupulously honest to regain Peeta’s trust destroyed within seconds.  I guess I should have told him myself and not relied on either Haymitch or Lace to do it. But then I remember there were also good reasons for not telling him.  Between a rock and a hard place, I think they call it.  I suppose it’s definitely all over with Peeta now, even the friendship.   Maybe it’s for the best.  I was going to separate myself from him anyway.  What does it matter if it’s before the wedding, rather than after?  Isn’t it better if it’s his decision?  That way, I won’t have to find excuses for staying away from him.   And then I think of how Peeta must be feeling right now, and I feel really, really bad in a way that’s unconnected with me. With his memories either distorted and incomplete, he relies on others to be honest with him, and not to keep things from him.  How can he know what’s real or not real, otherwise?  It must feel like some kind of conspiracy that everyone but himself was included.  No wonder it’s evoked memories of what happened in 11.   And me, the person he should be able to rely on the most, has let him down.   When I at last raise my head, I see Johanna regarding me with a puzzled expression. “It was weird how he took out all his anger on you, wasn’t it?  You’d think he’d be mad at Lace, but it was like she didn’t matter.”  

“No, not really,” I reply.  “It reminded him of another time, that’s all.”  And not a good one either, I silently add.   “Do you think they’ll split up over it?” I shake my head.  “I doubt it.  Not once things settle down.  She hasn’t lied about anything really important.  It was only her first name and that she was a factory worker.  Even that can be explained away as simply stretching the truth.  Lace could be a pet name for Chantilly, and owners do work in their own factories.  They just do a different kind of work.” “It was still deception,” says Johanna.   “Yeah, but not meant to harm. He’ll understand why, although he’ll likely be disappointed that she didn’t confide him in much earlier.  And it was only Arthur who knew originally, and that’s because they knew each other before. It’s not like she told the rest of us, but not Peeta.”   “Humph” snorts Johanna. “I wouldn’t be so quick to forgive, if I were him.  A lie is still a lie.  Especially if you’re about to marry the guy.  And what about what she said to me?  What a bitch.” Well, you did provoke her.  And it was probably about time someone called you out on your exhibitionistic tendency to strip off in inappropriate places.  Like elevators, for instance.  “She’d had quite a lot to drink,” I say.   “It’s no excuse,” she sniffs.  I think Lace really did hurt Johanna’s feelings, but whether it’s over being accused of having no standards, or the notion that people don’t like seeing her naked, I don’t know.  “But what about Peeta?  Do you think I’m still welcome to stay in his house?” Good question.   Peeta might see the justice of not taking sides in this.  After all, Lace had a go at Johanna first, and he doesn’t know what else was going on.  But then, a good fiancé wouldn’t want a house guest his bride-to-be is at odds with. I was evicted from the guest room for far less. “I don’t know,” I say.  “But I think it will OK for tonight.  They’ll have a lot to talk about.  Peeta will probably get home late, if he doesn’t stay the night at Lace’s.  I’d just wait to see what happens.  But there’s always my mother’s old bedroom if you need it.”   I really don’t want Johanna staying here but I feel responsible.  I shouldn’t have told her about Lace.  Or even told Haymitch.  Peeta was the only one I should have told.  If I’d kept my mouth shut, none of this would have happened.  Oh, fuck!  All those people in the pub who heard Johanna’s accusations.  They might not know the details, but it won’t stop the gossip, or prevent anyone from making enquiries, and then finding out.   Lace might have to leave the district.  And Peeta, as her husband, will have to go with her.  He’ll have to leave his home, and his job.  Everything that is familiar.  And it will be all be my fault.  This is much, much, worse than I first thought.  And not only will Peeta and Lace hate me, Arthur will too.  I feel sick.  

Marcus walks in at that moment carrying three mugs of steaming hot chocolate.   I seem destined not to enjoy any of Marcus’s cooking tonight and it tastes like glue in my mouth.  We make inconsequential conversation, carefully avoiding any topic connected with the events of the last few hours.  Eventually, Johanna makes her leave and Marcus and I are alone. “Katniss, I know none of this is my business, but if you want to talk . . .” “Thank you, but talking is what’s got me into trouble.  I’ve made the worst mess of things.  I – I don’t . . .”  And that’s all I get out before bursting into tears.   The next thing I know I’m in Marcus’s arms, sobbing against his chest. He holds me close and says soothing words.  And I stay there, cradled against him, until I am spent.

[the-garris0n]

barmaids don’t count - pt. 2

I changed my mind and gave the reader a name, hope u don’t mind 

tommy x reader / alfie x reader

summary: working for only one of the most feared gangs in the country seemed hard enough, until you found yourself being blackmailed by Alfie Solomons

part one / part three

‘Eva, I need a favour,’ Louise hurtles towards the bar, her hair half-done and with her dress only half buttoned up. I set down the glasses I was putting away, sighing at my whirlwind of a roommate.

‘Shouldn't you be getting ready?’ I ask mildly, raising an eyebrow at her. There’s less than fifteen minutes before the doors open.

‘Mary’s not coming in, I need you to take her place.’ I scoff.

‘Absolutely not.’ Louise is supposed to be performing her own routine for the first time tonight, after begging Arthur for weeks. Our living room has been turned into a rehearsal space, the furniture draped with even more gauzy slips and glitzy brassieres than usual, and I’ve been dragged into practices every day. Still, the idea of me dancing with Louise and the other girls is so ridiculous it’s almost funny. I have none of their easy confidence, elegance or beauty.

‘There’s no one else. I know you know the routine, you’ve practised with me enough at home. And it’s not like you have to strip or anything. I’m begging you,’ she clasps her hands together, leaning towards me across the bar.

‘Who’s gonna serve drinks?’

‘Get Arthur to do it, just for twenty minutes.’

‘Or get Arthur to dance for you,’ I suggest flatly. Louise snorts. Imagining Arthur in one of her costumes isn't a pretty sight.

‘So you’ll do it?’ Louise presses, flashing a sickly-sweet smile. I huff. ‘Fine, but I better get paid extra.’

I sit in the dressing room, my heart pounding. Staring at the mirror, I barely recognise myself in the pale pink silk robe I’m using to cover the costume Louise has lent me. My hair has been tamed into neat, perfect golden waves and my eyes are lined with smoky kohl. Outside I can hear the commotion of the rowdy club, overrun with the discordant music that plays non-stop.

‘Eva?’ I turn to see Louise with two glasses in hand. ‘You alright?’ I nod, smiling tightly.

‘How long before we go on?’

‘Two minutes.’ I take a deep breath. Louise flops into the chair next to me, grinning. 

‘Relax! Once you get up there you’ll love it. They’ll love the whole demure thing you do.’ I smile, wishing she was right. Every time I think about having the eyes of an actual audience on me a tight ball of panic squeezes my chest.

‘Here, drink this quick. We’re on.’ I swallow the liquor she hands me in one, grimacing as it burns my throat. Taking a deep breath, I plaster a fake smile across my face and follow her through the curtains.

I step onto the stage next to Louise, waiting until the music cue starts with baited breath. The glaring white lights burn my eyes and my exposed skin, and I smile at the audience I can barely see. The first drum beats resonate through my legs and up to my chest and I begin the first steps of the routine. The steps are burnt into my brain, making it easier to focus on them instead, and Lou’s familiar presence next to me is a small reassurance.

I remember the tips Lou gave me, making eye contact with members of the audience. Dancing for one person should be easier than dancing for all of them, at least in theory. My eyes fall on one man in particular, blue eyes watching me coolly as if I’m something mildly interesting, like a newsreel. I turn the routine up a level, needing for some reason to impress this stranger. In time with Lou I pull the tie of the robe, letting it fall open and revealing the impossibly short dress she lent me. The sequinned hem grazes the top of my thigh, sending a shiver down my spine that I try to hide with a smile and another kick of my leg. I turn my body to face him, letting the robe fall to the floor completely. The jeers and applause from the rest of the room have been drowned out. The stranger sits up slightly, his eyes dragging up and down my body. A breath catches in my throat.

The rest of the room has melted away by the time the song finishes, and as the lights go up I feel myself return to my body. The man’s eyes are still on me, but suddenly I feel all too vulnerable. I catch Lou’s eye and she gives me a reassuring smile, wiggling an eyebrow out of view. She grabs my hand, pulling me from the stage when I find that my feet are glued to the floor.

-

From backstage I watch the crowd, my gaze pulled again and again to the blue-eyed man. Louise joins me, tying her silk robe around her waist.

‘You know who that is right?’ 

‘Who?’ I reply absentmindedly.

‘You know who. I’m surprised your eyes haven't burnt any holes in him,’ she teases, elbowing me in the ribs. I yelp in pain, blushing at being caught so easily.

‘Okay, who is he?’ She smiles gleefully.

‘Arthur’s brother, Tommy,’ she tells me. I look back towards him. It’s obvious now she’s pointed it out. He has a calm authority, like he knows that everyone knows how important he is.

‘Just remember the rules, no sleeping with the patrons,’ Louise whispers before dashing away into the dressing room. I scoff to myself at her words, following her to the dressing rooms to change out of the costume.

-

Louise forces me to join her in waitressing for the rest of the night as Arthur is still on the bar, though what she counts as ‘waitressing’ is a loose use of the term. Mostly she sashays between the tables, still in her costume, flirting for tips and occasionally taking a drink order. I follow her example, putting on what I hope is a flirtatious smile. I try avoiding the man, embarrassment burning my throat whenever I think back to the stage, but eventually he catches my eye and signals me over.

‘What can I get for you?’ I ask. He says nothing. Just places a bank note on the table between us, the implication of it taking a second to hit me. He raises an eyebrow.

‘Follow me, Mr Shelby,’ I manage to get out, pulling myself together. I walk with him following me to one of the tables in the shadowy corner of the already-dark room. These tables are small, intimate, with round, plush benches that allow for privacy from the rest of the club. Technically the rules don't allow touching, but I’ve heard Lou’s stories about the kind of things that happen. Arthur isn't particularly strict in enforcing that one, for some reason.

Tommy sits down and I sit next to him, leaving space between us. I can only hope he's not expecting anything from me.

‘You’re new,’ he says, more of a statement than a question. I get a chance to look at him properly for the first time. There are parts of him that remind me of Arthur. His complexion, his eyes, the way he dresses, but it’s like everything has been intensified. Whereas Arthur’s eyes are grey-blue, Tommy’s are sharp and bright. His hair is darker, almost black, contrasting with his pale skin. Arthur’s face is kind, but Tommy’s is colder and calculating. I can’t stop myself from staring.

‘I’ve worked here for a few months now,’ I reply. Luckily he’s not looking back at me.

‘But not as a dancer.’ I blush, embarrassed that he could tell so easily. Hopefully no one else thought I was that disastrous.

‘You could tell?’ I ask, mortified, and a ghost of a smile flits across his lips.

‘The dancing was good,’ he pauses, his eyes flitting almost unnoticeably down to my covered body like he’s remembering the sight. ‘I’ve just seen you at the bar. And Arthur’s definitely not the one keeping those accounts,’ he raises an eyebrow with the last part and I breathe a sigh of relief. Good is enough of a compliment for me.

‘He asked me to do them. He’s always busy.’

‘That must mean he trusts you.’ He turns towards me, looking me in the eyes like he’s daring me to give him a reason not to trust me too. I have already, not that he knows it.

‘I just do my job,’ I shrug. Tommy pulls a silver cigarette case out of his suit pocket and places one between his lips. He holds the case out to me and I shake my head, already filled with enough nervous energy. He lights a match, the tiny flame illuminating his face for a second before he shakes it out.

‘You do it well,’ he says, smoke leaking from his lips in spiralling tendrils. I smile to myself, slightly embarrassed at how pleased the compliment makes me. I never got to finish school but I always dreamed of being an accountant in some chic office, earning enough to be independent.

‘Why did you bring me over here?’ I ask. He takes a long drag from the cigarette before replying, watching me thoughtfully.

‘I make it my business to know everyone who works for me. Especially those who my brother decides he can trust with confidential information.’ Something in his voice makes me think he’s caught me already and I gulp.

‘Paranoid, are you?’ I smile, trying to flirt my way away from the guilt building up, but he just holds me in a firm gaze that makes me feel like a deer trapped in the headlights.

‘Don’t give me a reason to be.’

-

Alfie Solomons calls me at the flat the next day, and I don’t even want to think about the fact that he somehow already has the number. Ollie arrives in the car a few minutes later to take me to the infamous bakery. He doesn't speak this time. The warehouse is different to what I expected, but really it has all the features of an illegal rum distillery; barrels fill most of the available space and huge metal distillation tanks loom out from the corners. Ollie walks me through the shop floor to Alfie’s office, knocking the door.

‘Enter,’ comes the gruff shout from inside. Ollie opens the door for me, ushering me in. Alfie is sitting at a large desk, and he raises an eyebrow when he sees me. 

‘Eva! How lovely.’ I resist the urge to roll my eyes. He’s the one who called me here. Now, in daylight, I can see him properly. He’s not bad looking, under the thick beard and grizzled appearance. His eyes are blue, not as bright as Tommy’s, but they have a manic glint that stands out against his calm exterior.

‘What have you got for me?’ He asks, clasping his hands together over his chest. I dig through my bag reluctantly, pulling out the papers I’ve managed to grab from Arthur’s office. I tried not to take anything too important, maintaining an ounce of imaginary dignity. I put them onto Alfie’s desk.

‘Interesting,’ Alfie mutters as he rifles through the papers. ‘Well done, very well done.’

’I’m not doing it anymore,’ I say, trying to sound authoritative before the huge man in front of me. From behind his desk Alfie sighs and presses his hand to his face, running his fingers over his beard thoughtfully as he appraises me.

‘And why’s that, sweetheart?’ 

‘I don’t want a part in this business. I don’t want to pick a side,’ He chuckles quietly. 

‘Well love, there comes a time when everyone has to pick a side, and your loyalties lie with me now. You’re on my payroll, and I pay you significantly more than Arthur pays his barmaids.’ He sits down in his chair, folding his hands and leaning on the desk. ‘People say you can’t buy loyalty, and those people are fucking stupid, but I do require that loyalty. Alright?’ I don’t respond, but he seems to take it as agreement, leaning back in his chair.

‘I hear Tommy Shelby’s come to town, that wouldn't have anything to do with this, would it?’

‘No.’ I want to convince myself that it’s not, but I can’t deny that it is, at least partly. He’ll be harder to dupe than Arthur, and he already seems suspicious of me.

‘Good, because I want to know what he’s up to as well, alright? Now off you go.’

‘But Mr Solomons-‘ Alfie pulls a drawer open and throws a roll of paper onto the desk. I pick it up, not bothering to count the banknotes before stuffing it into my pocket.

‘There’s your loyalty. See you next week.’ He waves vaguely with his hand, and I know I’m dismissed.

idk i’m still not happy with this but hopefully the formatting will work this time :)))

[littlestshelby]

Curves.

(1,714) words.

This was difficult to write for some reason, so I am sorry if its awful. x 

Summery-  Hii! Please can I have a fluffy Finn imagine where the reader is chubby and they have been dating since they were 15. When the Shelby’s go out for dinner Finn brings her a long and the other Shelby boys tease her about her weight and Finn comforts her about it? Thankyou!! If you don’t get round to doing it don’t worry. Sorry if it’s confusing! 💖

Curves. 

 Finn and (y/n) had been friends for a couple of years by the time they finally confessed their love to one and other. Finn being nearly two year older than (y/n) they had to keep it quiet until she turned 16 or her father would have killed the Shelby boy. (Y/n) was a beautiful young girl, with beautiful shining (y/e/c) eyes and baby pink lips. Her body changing over He time finn knew her and it only made him want her more. 

She was a chubby girl, or curvy as finn would demand. It never bothered her, she was happy the way she was. Finn loved her and that’s all that mattered. Growing up she had never been bullied or insecure about herself. Her mother and father had always told her she was beautiful and that her curves Just extenuated her beauty. (Y/n) and Finn had been dating for just over six months when he turned up at her door looking furious. Y/n was dressed in her blue dress and tights, opening the door with a frown. “Finn?” She asked softly stepping forward but he shook his head holding up his hands. “Fuckin Isaiah told Michael about us and now Poll knows and she’s said you’ve got to come to dinner to meet the family.” He huffed a little at the end of the sentence. “Is it a bad thing.. that I meet your family?” She asked tucking her hair behind her ear. “I mean I know you’re private when it comes to your family.” She fiddled with her hands now. 

Finn sighed and took her hands in his own. “No love, I just don’t want them being rude or crude around you, you’re sweet and innocent and I don’t want them to spoil you.” He laughed a little. (Y/n) rolled her eyes and laughed. “Shut up Finn, it will be fine. I love you and you love me that’s the way it is, your family can’t change that.” Finn smiled and kissed her, before her father appeared behind her. “Morning Mr (Y/L\N), I was Just inviting (y/n) to come to dinner with me and my family tomorrow evening, it’s at my brothers home in the country so would it be okay if she stayed, she’ll sleep in the guest room with my sister of course.” Finn spoke putting on his posh voice as he spoke to him. 

 “I’ll talk with your mother now come on time for church.” Her father huffed pushing (y/n) out the door and past finn. He waved at her as she was ushered down the street. God he was dreading this dinner. His aunt Polly would love her but he knew his brothers would do nothing but tease her and him all evening. The next day finn dressed in his best suit getting Polly to help him with his hair before he left to go and pick up (y/n) Tommy let him borrow one of the cars knowing they would take longer to get there than the others. Stopping outside (y/n)s house he climbed out and went to knock the door. (Y/n)s mother opened the door with a grin. “Oh Finn don’t you look handsome!” She gushed cooing over the boy making him blush a little. “(Y/n)s Just coming, she’s very nervous so you make sure you look after her.” She wagged her finger in his face and Finn nodded “of course. As always.” He smiled. 

Looking past her he caught a glimpse of his girl, there she was looking beautiful in a long wine red dress that fit her perfectly. Showing off her curves and flattering her skin tone. “Wow” finn breathed as she stepped outside with him, shooing her mother inside she closed to door and stood with him next to the car. “Is it okay? Mary gave it to me?” She shifted a little fiddling with her hands. Finn smiled lifting up bed chin. “You look breath taking.” He smiled pressing a kiss to her lips. With a beaming smile finn helped her into the car and started the 45 minute drive to Tommy’s Manor House. “I saw Isaiah today he was telling me about your brothers and your cousin Michael. Said I should ignore them if they say anything about me..” she spoke quietly as they pulled into the drive way. 

It was just getting dark now but the house was lit up brightly. “They just like to tease love that’s all, you’re the first girl I’m bringing home they’ll love you.” Finn assured her pecking her cheek quickly before going around and helping her out of the car. With one arm wrapped around her waist he walked them into the house. Once inside the maid took Finns coat and (y/n)s bag. Thanking her (y/n) took ahold of Finns hand. He squeezed it gently. 

Before they could even step out of the hall way Polly and Ada were stood in front of them giggling. “Oh finn you’re here! Ah you must be (y/n).” Ada hugged her and Polly smiled and winked at her. Finn introduced them and they told them that they had waited to eat until they got there. Stepping into the large dinning room (y/n) felt all eyes on her, she felt uncomfortable and shifted under their gaze. “Tom, Arthur, John, Michael, Esme, Grace, Linda this is my girlfriend, (y/n)” Finn announced stepping further into the room. 

The women smiled at her and complimented her dress. She relaxed a little then gushing over how wonderful they looked. Finn pulled out her chair for her before sitting next to her. His arm resting on the back of her chair gently rubbing her shoulder. “So (y/n) what do your parents do?” Linda asked politely from Next to Arthur who was smirking over at John. “My fathers a baker and my mother is a cook for the children’s home just outside small heath.” Speaking softly with a smile. Her smile faltered a little as John and Tommy let out a loud laugh earning an elbow to the ribs from either side. Finns grip on her shoulder tightened a little.

 “(Y/n) works at the church play group, working with the children and helping with the services.” Finn spoke for her now, Linda beamed. “I knew I recognized you!” (Y/n) smiled at her. She stayed quiet for a while then just listening to the chitter chatter around her. The food came out and everyone began to eat. (Y/n) never really ate big quantity’s of food. Slowly eating her starter she could hear the Shelby brothers whispering, she stopped eating dabbing the sides of her mouth with her napkin. “So Esme, Finn tells me you and John are to have your first child together?” (Y/n) asked across the table. Just as the mains were being brought out. “Yes we are, I think it’s a girl but johns adamant it’s a boy.” She sighed rubbing her stomach. “You sure you ain’t knocked ‘er up Finn?” John smirked, Arthur choking on his drink trying not to laugh.

 “Fuck off John.” Finn growled sitting up more. The girls scowled at their husbands for being so unkind to the young girl. “Calm down finn lad, All John boy is sayin is when you said you were bringin a girl ‘ome we were expecting a petite pretty girl.” Tommy spoke behind her whisky glass he brought up to his lips. A smirk hiding behind it. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?!” Finn shouted angrily. “How dare you!” He stood now glaring at his brothers who all looked highly amused while their wives called after (y/n) as she quietly slipped out of the room. “You’re all a disgrace, why do you think I’ve never let you meet her?!” Finn fumed, “because you thought we’d harpoon ‘er?” Arthur laughed, John sniggering next to him. 

“I don’t give a fuck how big or small or tall or short she is! I fuckin love her and you have made her feel like shit! How would you feel John if I called Esme a filthy gypsy or Arthur I called Linda a self obsessed bitch.” Finn turned to tommy. “Or if I called Grace a traitorous whore.” He growled. The men were silent staring at their youngest brother with fire in their eyes. “She is going to be my wife, a Shelby if she isn’t to disgusted by the thought of being kin with the likes of you. Finn slammed his hands down on the table and stormed out the room.

 Walking outside he saw (y/n) sat on the steps with her head on her knees shaking slightly. “Oh love.” He sighed sitting next to her wrapping his arms around her letting her cry into his chest. “Ignore them okay, you’re my beautiful girl and I love every single part of you.” He held her cheeks gently making her look at him. “You look radiant tonight.” He whispered wiping away her tears. “Why are they so cruel Finn?” She asked looking up at him know. Finn shrugged “I don’t know, but I will never let them anywhere near you again. I promise. If that means we move away to get away from the bastards that’s what we’ll do.” He huffed. (Y/n) chuckled a little. “Don’t be ridiculous Finn.” “I’m fuckin serious I won’t have anyone talk to you like that! They have no right!” His face was still slightly red from anger.

 “Come on lets drive home, I’ll take us back to polls just us and we can spend the night cuddling and you can tell me all about that book you’re reading.” Finn smiled standing up holding out his hand for her to take and that’s what they did.

 2 years later Finn and (Y/N) became the new Mr and Mrs Shelby, getting married at her church with the whole of both family’s there. Each of them apologizing for what they had said that night, (y/n) payed no mind because as long as Finn loved her she couldn’t care less about what anyone else thought.