#also they were both abandoned by SOMEone stares at arthur

[notyour-valentine]

First Period ~ Shelby!Sister Headcanon

Summary: Of course their youngest sister would start getting her period with Ada in hiding and Polly out of the house

Note: Thank you for the request, anon! I've chosen to take the Sister!reader approach and instead of writing one for each of the brothers, I tried to combine them all. I hope you like it. Here is my [Masterlist].

I do not consent to my work being translated, copied or posted elsewhere on this platform or any other. This hasn't been beta'd so I apologise for typos or mistakes

Warning: Blood? I don't know what you expect...it's kind of in the title. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. 

Request: yes, by anonymous

Wordcount: 1077

Finn

Finn was the first to notice something was wrong with his sister. She was just a few years older than him and his favourite playmate- his favourite person in the whole world. So when she started acting funny, no longer wanting to play chase or the like, got grumpy when he asked and slept far longer than she usually did, he got suspicious right away

Then she started getting these pains in her back and stomach, especially at night when he could see her tossing and turning, keeping them both up. 

The next morning she didn't get up with him but when she didn't join him after an hour or two he went up to check on her only to see her sitting on the edge of the bed with blood all over her hands and on her nightgown, looking at him with wide, panicked eyes

At once, Finn ran down the stairs, falling over in the process but not stopping on his way to the betting shop. 

He pushed the doors open with both his hands and screamed on the top of his lungs that his sister was dying! 

For a single second there was shocked silence, but the movement came to the other Shelbys. 

John dropped the books he had been working on, fearing they had been playing with his gun again. Arthur abandoned his cigarette, reaching for the gun in his desk drawer. Tommy knocked over his office chair in an effort to get up as quickly as possible as they followed Finn up the stairs. 

John

John reached the children's bedroom first, and stopped in his tracks once he grasped the situation, making both Arthur and Tommy bump into him, until they too saw the truth of this matter. 

Their relief was short-lived however, as this was a situation neither razor blade nor gun could solve. 

She was still so young, younger than Ada had been, but here they were- and of course his sister would start her monthlies with Ada in hiding and Polly out of the house. She really picked her times. 

But John had been married, and he knew what she would need and quickly excused himself with a muttered "I'll get the stuff."

There were probably some of Martha's things left and if not he knew where to get them from. Or he could ask Lizzie- she would have things at her place and would know what to say or do

It also gave him an excuse to go, leaving Arthur and Tommy to deal with it. 

Arthur

Arthur took a long while staring at the two panicked children, with their tear stained faces and, in his sister's case, blood stained hands. 

This was women's business alright, but with no women in the house, it fell to him. He was the eldest and the head of the family and someone had to do something to calm them down. 

So he told Finn to shut it before announcing almost ceremoniously that there was no cause for distress and that this was a normal thing to happen if someone became a grown woman and could have a baby. 

That only resulted in panicked "I'm having a baby?", screeches from his little sister and equally shocked responses from his youngest brother. His protests were drowned out by her pleas that she didn't want a baby, that please, please he could make the baby go away

Tommy

Tommy's "Enough!" cut through Finn's frantic questions, their sister's panicked sobs and Arthur's poorly worded explanation attempts. 

"No one's dying. No one's having a baby" (apart from Ada, but that was a whole other topic)

Crouching down in front of the bed, he gave his sister's knees a squeeze and told her that this happened to every woman and every girl, despite the work taking the time to answer her questions. “I don’t know why it’s blood.”, “Yes, that’s why your belly was hurting.”, “No it’s not just you.”, "Yes Ada too", "And Aunt Pol.", "Maybe not Mrs. Drew- she's sixty". 

He tried to explain to her in as simple terms as he could, without going into any more details than he had to, that it was her body's way of telling her that she wasn't going to have a baby, even if she could. 

That reduced her frantic sobs to understanding sniffles until she forced out a "Never ever?"

If it were up to him, he'd have confirmed that but instead he told her that it would be years and years and that one had to be married before having a baby (Ada should have remembered that!)

The rest of the fears were taken away by a long hug, before Tommy suggested she take a warm bath (he knew that helped with some of the pain) and drink some of that tea which he had seen Polly give Ada around that time of the month - that mix of camilla, yarrow, alchemilla and damiana 

She couldn't meet his eyes when she told him that during their hug she had stained the back of his shirt with the blood on her hands and whispered an apology, but Tommy only cupped her face and assured her that she shouldn’t worry. He had had suffered far worse bloodstains in his time. 

When Polly came home, she cried tears of laughter when a disgruntled Arthur told her what happened, and she made a note to talk to her youngest niece and tell her more than the boys could

Finn didn’t find it funny at all. He was glad of course, that his sister wasn’t dying, but something still kept him up at night

Finally gathering the courage, he slipped his blanket off and snuck over to her bed. It was boiling hot in comparison, as Polly had given her a pillow of cherry seeds she had warmed in a pan to put on her belly or on her back. 

“Are you still hurting?”, he wanted to know, a little relieved that she told him it was better than last night. Slipping in under her covers he whispered what had been burning in the back of his mind

“Arthur said you’re a woman now. Does that mean you won’t be playing with me any more? That you’ll be like Ada wearing dresses and skirts? That you’ll stop running and racing and riding with me?”

Only when she promised she wouldn’t, did he sleep easy, all the worries from the last few days vanishing into thin air as he drifted off to sleep next to his sister who was and would always be his favourite person in the whole wide world. 

~

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed!

Taglist

@lilyrachelcassidy @jyessaminereads @watercolorskyy @books-livre @chlorrox @quarterpastmidnight @lilyevanswhore @polishcrazyone @zablife @just-a-harmless-patato

Tommy

@knowledgefulbutterfly @babayaga67 @signorellisantichrist @lespendy

#valentineswritings #valentinesheadcanons #peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders headcanon #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby headcanon #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby headcanon #john shelby imagine #john shelby headcanon #arthur shelby imagine #arthur shelby headcanon #arthur shelby #john shelby #finn shelby #finn shelby headcanon #finn shelby imagine #shelby!sister #Shelby!sister imagine #shelby!sister headcanon #Shelby!Sister first period

[rosethreeart]

Hidden Del and Abby Lore beneath 👀

TW for “implied” SA and abuse

I’m copying and pasting from a DM which is why it’s sorta formatted a little weird but it’s been rotating in my brain and I need to SHARE!!!

Okay I've sorta alluded to it in the past with Delaware not really "having a father" and being really close with Prussia. But during the year(s) leading up to the revolutionary war it was legal for redcoats to take house in any colonialist's home. Abby would have been a bit of a young teen (~16?) during this time I think. She would be stuck in her home unaware of whats really occurring in the world-- she's autistic(a fae child if you will) and takes things very literally so when Arthur told her "not to stray from home" she literally took it as "don't leave the property" but I digress. So she's stuck in her home and the revolution is already kinda started at this point? Anyways like a few redcoats take over her home despite her protests and warnings of who her father is. They stay there for a while and eventually take advantage of her cause they're drunk young man with a thirst for power left alone with a pretty young thing and they're assholes </3. She snaps and kills them eventually tho :). They're bodies were thrown into the woods left for the wolves and other creaters that lurk there (sometimes she'll just stare off in that general direction and nobody knows why...) and thats when Prussia find her. A lot of germans were mercenaries during the revolutionary war (for both sides I believe) if memory serves me. So to me it would make sense if England secretly hired Prussia to take care of Abby during the war. So she actually ends up having Del /during/ the war an she and prussia just sorta agree to lie about it cause Abby can't even /speak/ about it. So thats really how Del is born/conceived. I think that nations especially in the past were very much treated like property, and her being a woc didn't really help with that. A few of her bosses would have also very much taken advantage of her over the years. SO she's got some trauma from that type of shit. Anyways that paired with the constant stream of "you're my nation you have to do as your told" and abandonment issues she develops a very unhealthy understanding of what sex is and how it should be used. She might not necessarily /want/ to have sex or even be repulsed by the idea of it in the moment, but she's too afraid of her partner (usually another nation) walking away and leaving her because she wouldn't be a good little girl and do as she's told, so she becomes almost overly sexual. She gets told sex is a casual thing amongst nations and that it can be used to her advantage with actual people so despite the severe disservice shes doing to herself she thinks what she's doing is normal. She also loves her children very much and finds an extreme source of comfort and knowledge that they wont abandon her which kinda selfishly leads her into having/wanting more states which kinda rinses and repeats the cycle of SA she keeps putting herself through. It takes a LONG ass time for her to come to the realization as to what she's been putting herself (and her partner(s)) through over the years and almost completely goes celibate from it. It takes even longer for her to get comfortable with the idea of having sex let alone even having it even if she's with someone she trusts (like Ned). But every once in a while she sorta relapses into it because she /needs/ to know that she's desired by at least one person, that she can be loved, that she's not all the horrid things that the other nations tend to make fun of her for; they wouldn't fuck her if they actually thought of her that way, right? She's got issues </3.

#tw sa implied

[darkherolovercroissant]

Teaching The Young

Masterlist

Charles Smith x Young reader (gender neutral)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You turn to see Charles with a bow approaching you. You smile and get up to greet him.

“Hello Charles, what can I help you with?” You greet

“I know that you’ve been stuck around camp, so I decided that I’m going to take you out hunting.” He says

Your mood rose as you grab your rifle and bow before following behind him to the horses.

“Have fun y/n” Abigail says before dragging John to the lake

You mount up and head out right behind Charles.

“What are we hunting?” You ask

“I’m going to show you how we hunt buffalo.” He says

Immediately you perk up more. It had been a dream you wanted to make a reality since you first saw one, but Arthur had always told you to stay away from them.

Looking back on it, you were only 14 when you asked. Also you rather learn from someone who knew more about them than someone who didn’t.

“Our people rely on these creatures for everything. They provide food, shelter and clothing. Our tribe used to follow wherever they went so we could survive. We’re only killing one, as it’ll provide a lot for our camp.” Charles shares

You took mental notes as he continued talking about the symbolism of buffalo. You were impressed with how much you were learning about a certain species.

“Look at them all, they truly are a fantastic creature.” He says in awe

I stared in amazement as the heard grazed on the lush green grass.

“I’ll heard them up, while you take a shot. Remember only one shall be harvested.” He says as he pushes his horse forward.

You pull out your scoped rifle and begin to scan the heard. There were so many big ones, ones that could easily feed a camp for a couple of weeks. Picking out a big bull out, you lined up your sights and took a headshot as Charles rounded the herd up.

After the herd safely migrated, you joined Charles by your big kill.

“Well done. I see all that training with Morgan and Marston paid off.”

You smile as Charles shows you how you skin the big creature. You look up when you heard vultures, when Charles noticed this, he too looked up.

“Looks like they found their own dinner.” He says before going back to skinning.

You pulled out binoculars and looked towards the vultures, you saw two carcasses that were indeed two buffalo. Scanning across the plains, you saw two more far off.

“We have trouble.” You say

Charles became alerted and you handed him the binoculars before pointing the bodies out.

“NO!” He says as he mounts his horse.

You quickly store the pelt on your horse before chasing after him.

Charles was furious by the time you caught up to him.

“Look here. There are bullet holes.” He says

“They look like been here for maybe half the day.” You analyze

“Let’s go check out the others” he urges

———

“Fresher kills. Who would do this!?” He yells as you analyze the buffalo

“Maybe an hour tops. The body isn’t hard yet.” You say before looking for clues.

Looking through the grass, you caught hood prints. Easily a horse. Followed by boot prints in the soft clay.

“Charles, we got horse tracks here. Look as old as these kills” you say

“Let’s track them then” he says as you lead down the hill.

“Look, smoke!” Charles says

You both ride up the rocky hills to the campfire, it’s obviously been abandoned, but conveniently in the location of the buffalo.

As Charles gets off to examine the fire, I look up and see more bison carcasses in the distance.

“Charles! Look!”

He looks over to where I point before cursing and mounting his horse.

“Let’s go. They should still be in the area.” He says as we race towards the dead bison.

“This is a slap in the face to my people. Whoever did this, had bad intentions and I don’t plan on letting them live for what they done.” He growled

“I don’t either. That’s completely disgusting and unnecessary what they’ve done.” You reply

As you dismount, you notice the bison trail leads further than you wish. Six more bison littered the field and trails.

These poor creatures…killed for nothing and left to rot in the hot sun. You just hoped that these animals were in safer pastures in their new life.

“Look! Another camp!” You point out and Charles rushes off towards it

He dismounts angered and a gun drawn as you both approached the two men.

“Did you shoot those bison?” Charles ask

The two men ignore him as Charles gets more angry.

“Did you shout those bison!?” He yells

“What’s it to you?” The one guy snickers

Charles snaps and shoots his shotgun at the one as you grab the other and beat the answers out of him.

“We were paid to shoot them and blame it on the Indians! Please don’t kill me! I got a family” the guy begs

“Kill him, y/n. He doesn’t deserve to live” Charles hisses

You do exactly what Arthur taught you and pushed down on the guys throat and killed him.

“Bastards. I hope they’re burning in hell for this.” Charles says before mounting his horse.

“I’ll see you back at camp.” He says before leaving.

You nod and begin looting the corpses just like John taught you when you first came to camp. You also found some cash and ammo that you stuffed in your satchel.

Picking any valuables like rings even a pocket watch was a good find. Arthur always told you, that you look for the fancy ones and they’ll have the best loot.

————

Returning home to camp, Dutch was there to help you off the horse and Kieran helped bring the hide to Pearson. Arthur looked up and smiled, but frowned when he saw you came back alone.

Before he could say anything, Charles came in and dismounted before heading to his cot.

“What happened?” He said as Charles stormed by him.

“Poachers. Killed a lot of buffalo and left them for dead. Charles was furious.” You say quietly scared of what Charles might say.

“Well you know him. They mean a lot to his people, so he should be furious.” Arthur says before leading you to get stew.

#charles smith #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #x gender neutral reader #x young reader #fluff #fanfic #short story #darkherolovercroissant #with indigenous history inside #mentions of arthur morgan #buffalo

[bitsandbobsofwriting]

Merlin has been gone for two years, Arthur has a meeting with the Lord Emrys to help with the changing laws:

And he has never bitterly regretted sending Merlin away more

Part 2(final part)

Angst,

SO

I'm gonna say... about 6 months before Uther dies, Merlin's magic is revealed to Arthur.

He really does NOT react well.

Arthur doesn't let Merlin get a word of explanation in, before he hits him on the head so hard he's unconscious before he even hits the floor.

When Merlin wakes up, what he can only assume is MUCH later, he's wearing cold iron shackles, he's been blindfolded, and gagged.

He just listens at first, still dazed and certainly concussed.

After about twenty minutes he's more aware, and realises... he's outside, in a forest, and he's on his own.

~

It’s been two years since Arthur abandoned Merlin in the woods beyond Camelot’s border.

He’s been King now for about a year and a half.

He went back three days later and tracked Merlin for a few hours, before coming to the conclusion that he'd gotten away safely, and heading back to Camelot.

He always tried to justify it to himself as protecting Merlin from Uther, ignoring the fact that Merlin had managed just fine on his own for years.

But really that was just an excuse. All he saw in the moment was a liar and a traitor. Really he should've had Merlin executed so... he's still a good person. He did the right thing.

He hadn't told anyone else the truth (perhaps because he knows they would hate him for it). Instead he told them that he and Merlin had argued, and before Arthur could get to the bottom of why his manservant was so irate, he stormed off in the middle of the night, and told him he wasn't coming back.

He stuck to that story the whole two years, though he's fairly certain they at least suspect he's lying. Gaius definitely does.

I imagine Gaius, only a few days after Merlin's disappearance, taking Arthur aside one night, and demanding to know if Merlin was dead. If Arthur had killed him:

"No! No of course not. He... we had a fight. It's like I said. He left in the night and told me not to follow him, that he wasn't coming back. I plan to respect his wishes."

Gaius releases the bruising grip he'd had on Arthur’s arm and takes a step back, his expression unreadable as he stares at the Prince.

"I...why would think I killed him?"

"Despite the fact that he most certainly could've defended himself against you, I always found it troubling how willing he was to let you execute him, should that be what you wanted."

Arthur has no reply to that, what would he even say? Would Merlin really have willingly walked to a pyre? If Arthur had only asked?

Gaius goes to walk away at that, but just before he shuts the door behind him, he pauses, and without looking back, says:

"If I find out you have killed my son, Sire, for who he is, there will... there is a large group of people who would see that justice is served. Myself included."

Everyone notices the change in the relationship between Gaius and Arthur since Merlin had left.

Arthur, with the knowledge that Gaius knows. Knows the truth and had guessed what he'd done. He couldn't face that.

They barely spoke to each other, Arthur avoided the physician wherever possible and words of encouragement and kindness were no longer aimed his way from the gentle old man.

His relationships with the others deteriorated as well.

They either thought he was telling the truth, and resented him for both being cruel to Merlin, and letting him go so easily.

(After years of Arthur treating Merlin terribly, no one is really surprised that Merlin had decided he'd had enough and left.)

OR they thought he was lying, hiding something, and resented him for not telling them the truth, and potentially doing something unforgivable to Merlin.

All but Gwaine are still polite to him, showing him the due respect of a Prince, and then a King, but not of a friend.

After a series of hijinks, Arthur comes to the terrifying realisation that magic isn't all bad.

Really I think, he's known all along. But admitting that magic wasn't pure evil made what he did to Merlin even more unforgivable.

He begins making moves to legalise it. It's slow and difficult, and he meets resistance at every turn.

BUT he also has the surprising support of Gaius, and his knights, and Gwen, and Morgana.

Still, none of them treat him like a friend, not the way they used to, but they're helping him along the way. He hadn't realised how many people close to him opposed the ban, until he started dismantling it.

Hope rises in him, over the months, as he realises that once he's legalised magic, he can find Merlin, and bring him back. The first place he'll check is Ealdor.

He's... scared of that. Scared that he won't be able to find him, but more scared that he will. That Merlin will hate him. That Merlin won't care that he's repealing the ban and won't want to come back.

Arthur doesn't think he could bare that.

Mostly because he knows that it would be entirely his own fault.

After the ban is finally lifted, there are huge celebrations. If the King is seen to be searching the crowds, as if for a familiar face, no one mentions it.

A few days later, a group of Druids come for an audience with the King, and are met by Arthur in the courtyard.

After quick introductions, and pleasantries, the leader begins to speak:

"Once and Future King, I first want to extend my gratitude for this warm welcome, and promise that you have the Druid's full support in lifting the ban. We hope for a peaceful future, full of cooperation and compassion."

Arthur nods and smiles slightly at that, but before he can reply in anyway, the Druid speaks again:

"Our leader, the leader of all Druids and all magic of the world, would like to convene with you, and discuss the specifics of any future agreements between our two worlds."

Arthur is surprised at that, but hides it well. Leader of... all magic? Sounds... powerful:

"Of course, I readily accept. They may bring themselves forth, I will make time for a meeting whenever they so choose."

"Your majesty, My Lord Emrys already awaits you in the throne room-"

(The Druid smiles at Arthur's barely concealed shock at his words, both at the idea that someone had snuck into his castle undetected, and at the mention of Emrys. One of the the few conversations he'd had with Gaius had been an in-depth explanation of who Emrys was, and his and Arthur's destiny (the physician had failed, of course, to mention Emrys' true identity.)) 

The Druid continues gently:

"-He's not one for public appearances."

"I.... of course. Will you and your group be attending? Or would you like to be shown to your rooms immediately?"

"This is a matter to be discussed privately, between the two of you, My Lord. Myself and my group have a camp just beyond the city walls that we will return to. Thank you for the offer of hospitality, we appreciate the kindness greatly."

With that, the Druid gives another short bow before turning and leaving through the castle gates, his group following closely behind him.

Arthur takes a deep breath, briefly glancing at Sir Leon, who stands at his side, and instructing him to inform the council that any remaining meetings for the day had been cancelled.

Leon gives a stiff nod and stalks off. He had been the best at hiding his disdain for his former best friend, but it still shone through occasionally, and Arthur's heart clenches as he thinks that he really can blame no one but himself for the deterioration of everything in his personal life.

With another deep breath, he re-enters the castle, and heads towards the throne room, trying to psyche himself up for meeting the supposed Leader of All Magic, who had managed to sneak his way into the heart of the castle, without anyone noticing or raising the alarm.

He pauses briefly outside the doors, and instructs the guards to not let Anyone in, without the King's express permission.

They nod, and with that, Arthur opens the doors and enters, shutting them quietly, before turning around to be faced with a near empty throne room.

He furrows his brow as his eyes settle on a single man, his back to Arthur where he stands gazing out a window, onto the courtyard below.

Arthur can't see his face, he can't see much of him to be honest, he's shrouded in a floor length blue cloak, hood up and covering his head.

The King stares only for a moment before raising himself to his full height, clearing his throat, and speaking:

"Lord Emrys? It's my honour to welcome you to Camelot. Thank you for coming."

The man turns his head slightly at that, though not enough for Arthur to see any more of his face.

"Your honour?-"

He huffs a small laugh at that, though it sounds dry and sarcastic, as opposed to genuinely humoured.

"- we shall see about that."

His voice comes out strangely, obviously magically altered, and Arthur has to stop himself from gulping at the many voices echoing around the otherwise empty room.

They sound sort of... familiar? But he pushes that feeling down and takes yet another deep breath:

"Of course. I've been told a great deal about you. That you have always been an ally to Camelot, and have protected both me personally, and the Kingdom, from the shadows, never asking for credit or requesting recognition. I thank you for that, my gratitude knows no bounds. You had no reason to protect a kingdom that previously would have seen you burn, though I swear to you, that is not how things work now."

Emrys let's out a chuckle at that, this one somehow even less humoured than the last

He gives a small nod, before saying, almost to himself, though Arthur hears anyway:

"Yes, we shall see."

His voice is no longer disguised, and Arthur once again pushes down the feeling of recognition blooming in his chest. He's sure he knows that voice.

("It sounds like.... no. It isn't. Stop hearing things that aren't there. You're just setting yourself up for heartbreak." runs through his head.)

Arthur is unsure how to continue the conversation from there, but before he has to force some sort of response out, Emrys finally turns, and lowers his hood.

Arthur takes a step back and gasps, his eyes wide.

Merlin's hard eyes stare back at him, his expression completely blank. He looks very different, but is still recognisable as Arthur's former manservant.

"...Merlin?" Escapes Arthur's mouth, so quietly he can barely hear it himself

At this, Emrys let's out a deep sigh, sounding almost resigned, as he cocks an eyebrow and replies:

"No one's called me that in two and a half years. You know, I used to hate the idea of people calling me Emrys instead of Merlin. Now, I find that I feel the exact opposite.-"

He tilts his head slightly, looking briefly puzzled as he maintains eye contact and mumbles:

“-Or perhaps it’s just you.”

At this Arthur gulps, and really looks at Merlin... or Emrys.

He's bulked out a little, no longer skinny and sickly looking, he fills his clothes (good quality, blues and silvers and blacks, intricate patterns and fitting well) in a way he never had before. His hair has grown out long and curls around his ears. His beard has grown in a little.

(Think, the living and the dead) :

His hands, which now have druid markings tattooed all over (they're also just about visible above his collar, though they don't go very far up his neck) , are clasped tightly in front of him, his fingers adorned with a couple of rings.

Nothing he wears looks especially expensive, Merlin had never been one to dress up, but they are good quality, and screamed "Druid" and "powerful".

"You're Emrys? Why did you never say??"

Merli-... Emrys tenses his jaw at that, his face showing slight anger as opposed to the boredom it displayed before, but before he can answer, the gang bursts in all at once.

Arthur can hear the guards yelling over the top of the door banging against the wall, and the footsteps of eight people rushing into the room.

"I tried to stop them sire but they wouldn't- Merlin??" From Leon has Arthur letting out a frustrated growl.

The King sweeps his eyes over the rest of the group as they all stare in surprise at Merlin.

Gaius is the only one who doesn't look surprised, he is instead smiling, and steps forward to offer Merlin a hug, which he accepts with no resistance as a small smile graces his face.

Merlin speaks quietly, but everyone can hear him:

"It's good to see you Gaius. I've missed you. When this is all sorted I've got so many things to tell you, to show you."

Gaius pulls back and grins even wider,

"All in time, dear boy. You're looking very well. I'm glad you've finally revealed yourself as the Lord Emrys."

Merlin blushes slightly at that and looks down:

"I haven't gone by the name Merlin in almost three years Gaius, Camelot has been the only place to not know me."

Merlin steps back, and glances quickly at the others, before settling his gaze on Arthur, who is looking a little like an animal caught in a trap. Merlin's eyes harden once again, and he schools his face back into disinterest and boredom:

"As I was about to say before, My King, I didn't get a chance to explain myself to you before I awoke, shackled and blinded and cold, with a rather nasty head wound, in the middle of a forest. And quite frankly, after that, I wasn't prepared to stumble my way back to Camelot and try for a second time. Though perhaps I should be grateful you simply knocked me out and dumped me, as opposed to burning me?"

Arthur looks to be in physical pain, but doesn't look away from Merlin, not even as the others gasp and mutter and stare and glare at him.

"Shackled? You.... I knew you were lying you monster. How could you?!" From Morgana is the first thing loud enough to be heard.

It's Gwaine who speaks next, but Arthur still doesn't look away from Merlin:

"You bastard. What the fuck is wrong with you?!" He goes to draw his sword and step towards the King, but Elyan holds him back:

"No, Gwaine. It isn't our place. This is Merlin's fight, and he knows we all stand with him."

At that, Merlin finally looks away, an ever so slight smile escapes as Elyan nods to him, and becomes the first of the group to move to stand behind Merlin, facing the king. The others follow shortly after.

They stand in a group just behind him, the fury rolling off them in waves.

Morgana steps forward and takes one of Merlin's hands in her own. Staring Arthur down, she speaks, her eyes flash gold as a sharp wind whips through the throne room. No windows or doors have been left open:

"Would you have done the same to me, brother-mine? Would you have beaten me and shackled me and left me in a forest to rot?"

Arthur steps back in complete shock, the group behind her and Merlin are also shocked, but take it in their stride.

Merlin squeezes her hand in a silent "I'm sorry, I'm with you, I'll teach you, you're safe."

Arthur doesn't really have the words at this point. He's speechless and in shock and almost crying.

He had always known that his first meeting with Merlin would be difficult, but he wasn't expecting everyone who had ever been important to him to be there as well, stood opposite him, hating him.

The wind dies down as Gwen places a hand on the other woman's shoulder from behind. Merlin looks towards Morgana first, and offers a comforting smile to her teary face, before looking behind him to the others.

"As much as I appreciate the support, and as much as I love, and have missed you all, I think me and the King need to have a private meeting on the matter. Personal problems aside, I need to see to the continued safety of my people."

It’s quiet, reserved Percival, who speaks up:

"Like hell are we leaving you with him now we know what he did." The others nod at this, but Merlin replies gently:

"I'll be fine, I'm perfectly capable of defending myself. Go, I'll find you later."

At this, he turns once more to Morgana:

"There is a group of Druids camped just beyond the city walls, go to them, take Gaius. They will help you until this is all resolved, and then I can teach you myself." he says with a smile, and at her nod, he glances at Gaius, who steps forward and leads Morgana out the room, closely followed by a hesitating gaggle of knights.

Gwen is the only one who remains, as she takes Merlin’s hand briefly in Morgana’s place, and snarls at Arthur:

"Monster."

-before following the others out of the room, and shutting the door behind her, leaving the throne room once again empty of people, bar the Forever King and the Immortal One.

Merlin speaks first, looking back to Arthur, unwavering and determined:

"How do I know this is all real? The change in laws?"

"I... what? What do you mean real? Of course it's real. Merlin please, can we just-"

Merlin turns away as he interrupts him, and walks back towards the window, to look upon the courtyard, where countless innocents had been slaughtered:

"Pretending to change the laws so you can lure my people to your city, before starting another purge, sounds like exactly something Uther's son would do. I will not put my people in danger by encouraging them to come here, before I can be sure they are truly safe from the Pendragon line."

Arthur's heart breaks even more. He really had damaged the relationship between himself and Merlin more than he ever could've imagined. Merlin had seemed to make it his life goal to assure Arthur that he wasn't his father, that he could follow his own path and create his own legacy. Before Arthur had ruined everything.

"I would never. The law is changed. Sorcer- your people, are safe. Merlin will you please-"

Merlin turns and interrupts again, looking Arthur directly in the eyes, obviously not prepared to let the conversation turn personal.

"Promises made to beings of magic are... powerful. There is magic in words, swear to me that my people are safe from persecution, and I will believe it."

"I...yes. I swear it. People with magic will no longer be unfairly persecuted in this kingdom as long as I am king, I swear it, in the name of Camelot."

Merlin’s eyes flash gold, and Arthur feels as though the words he's just spoken have been branded onto his soul. In a way, they have.

Merlin looks once more out of the window, and replies quietly, but darkly:

"I will hold you to that, Arthur Pendragon."

~

THE END!

This two-parter has been finished!!

As per usual, I only write drafts, so if someone wants to write this up all proper, then go for it, credit and tag me✌

#merthur angst #merlin #bbc merlin #merthur #merthur whump #sir leon #leon #sir percival #percival #sir elyan #elyan #sir lancelot #lancelot #sir gwaine #gwaine #druids #gaius #gwen #guinevere #morgana #good morgana #uther #magic reveal #emrys #emrys reveal #arthur #king arthur #angst #bamf merlin

[cutesilyo]

no place in the world (like manila) — an amephil fanfic

A few months after the outbreak of the Philippine-American War, Alfred falls in love with and is betrayed by a bright-eyed teenager with the prettiest smile on this side of the Orient in a single night. 

This is not a love story.

Also available on AO3.

—

"Sir, I don't think it's safe for you to leave the camp," Major-General MacArthur warned. "I don't know how, but the revolutionaries know your face. They could attack you!"

"Pshaw," Alfred snorted. "I'm a nation. What could they do that could take me down, huh?"

MacArthur's mustache bristled in displeasure. "Be that as it may sir, might I remind you that you only arrived in Manila a week ago? Knowing you, you'd just get lost and I'd have to put together a whole squad of troops just to hunt you down. You could get captured, Alfred. I don't know how to tell you just how badly that would bring down morale."

Alfred just wagged his fingers, a bright grin on his face. "Look, if I get captured, I'd bust out of whatever crappy holding place they'd put me in without barely breaking a sweat! And knowing our soldiers, that's just the stuff that would make a great story to tell at dinnertime. How's that for morale?"

The way that MacArthur simply stared at him blankly told Alfred that this was not a convincing argument.

"I hate it when you do that," he groaned, slumping back on his seat. The leather was hot with the heat of the tropical sun and it stuck uncomfortably to his skin. Oh, how badly he wanted to just finally get up and leave. "I'm just saying, I can't stay inside here forever just waiting for you to dictate our next move."

"It's part of our strategy—"

"And it's boring. I'm bored, Major-General. I might as well look around." Alfred's eyes glinted dangerously. "Besides, you'll capture the whole nation for me soon enough, won't you? No harm in wanting to see what we're winning once this war is over."

The silence lasted for a few seconds before the major-general sighed in defeat.

—

Private Patton R. Wilkes was assigned to “accompany” Alfred while he roamed around Manila, but he knew that MacArthur just wanted someone to make sure he would actually return to camp instead of getting lost or, God forbid, taking the next ship back to America. Though the both of them were dressed in civilian clothing, the private carried himself with a strict stiffness that just screamed hardened military man. If Alfred wanted any chance of escape, it looked like the private would be hard to shake off.

Alfred tried to stay optimistic about the trip anyway. He hadn't paid much attention to the city while he was on the way to the American camp, but he certainly expected it to have an air of exoticness. He was a bit disappointed not to see anything like the palaces of Japan or the distinctly oriental architecture of China. Instead, he found street signs written in Spanish, the excited chatter of fast-talking brown-skinned people, and the cacophony of guitars, church bells, and the sound of horse-drawn carriages trotting along the stoned roads. Walking around Manila was like looking at a funhouse mirror version of Mexico: more or less the same, but with just enough differences to make his head spin.

"Uh, you alright there, sir?" Patton asked.

"Was just thinking about a bad memory, is all," Alfred grimaced. He's sure that Alejandro would have his head once he returned to the continent. He's been pissing off a lot of Spanish-speaking nations recently, that's for sure. "Come to think of it, the Philippine Islands must have its own personification too, right?"

The private's face darkened. "He's a force to reckon with, sire. Haven't seen no hide nor hair of him myself, but some guys in the other squadron barely survived after fighting with the kid."

"A kid?" Alfred furrowed his eyebrows. He didn't know there were still nations out there who were that young. Then again, he was only a teenager himself, and he was even younger when he fought against Arthur as well. "I don't know how I feel about fighting a kid. Couldn't I just give him a lollipop or something and this could all just work itself out?"

He meant it as a joke, but Patton seemed to take it seriously and started furiously shaking his head. "Don't think you could even try negotiating with him sir, the kid's a savage. Hacked and slashed his way through the guys with some kind of golden knife, they said. We're lucky our medics are so darned fast, otherwise, we would've been down almost a dozen men from him alone."

Something in Alfred's resolve hardened at the thought of losing his soldiers to someone so brutal. He clapped the other man on the shoulder and said, "Don't you worry, Pat. We'll end this soon, and when we win, we'll make sure that nobody from these islands ever lays a hand on any of our own."

That seemed to comfort Patton somewhat, though he was still shaking with anger. "I'll give them a good walloping right by your side, sire."

"Now that's the kind of patriotic determination I wanna see!" Alfred crowed. He then immediately scrambled for his wallet and hurriedly gave the private a wad of bills. Some onlookers openly gawked at seeing the number of dollar bills in his hand. "Tell you what, why don't you buy some booze, head back to camp, and inspire your fellow soldiers, eh? God knows we need some fun around here."

"Um," Patton blinked, caught off-guard. "I don't know if Major-General MacArthur—"

"Tell Major-General MacArthur that I'm just trying to boost morale," Alfred winked. "Also, tell him I'll back by next morning!"

He didn't get to hear Patton's response as he took off running wildly in the opposite direction. He barely registered running past the stores, wet market, and the cathedral; he just wanted to be alone and independent, exploring this new land to his heart's content. The buildings were shorter and the roads were narrower here than in his own country, but Alfred was just so glad to finally be in a place filled with people just like he was used to.

Alfred collapsed on his knees, winded. When he looked up, he was surprised to see that he had apparently made it to one of Manila's many ports. Past the numerous small fishing boats and trading boats, he could see that the sun was already beginning to set. The sky was painted in a pretty combination of pinks and oranges in contrast to the ocean's blue, the stars already starting to twinkle faintly into appearance one by one. The rhythmic lapping of the waves against the rocks seemed louder than everything else around him — a stark reminder that no matter where he went, there was always something bigger to discover.

He stood there for a moment, mesmerized when a loud grunt startled him out of his stupor.

He turned to find some kind of bull staring at him with its beady eyes, its long horns curving towards the back instead of to the front. It was pulling a wagon full of leafy vegetables that Alfred couldn't recognize, and the old man riding it looked startled to come across a foreigner.

"Hijo, padaan naman po," he said, with a strained smile.

"Oh, sorry, I don't know what you mean," Alfred tried, but the man just continued smiling at him. He was starting to think that maybe abandoning Patton, who wasn't fluent but at the very least conversational in Tagalog, was a bad idea.

Luckily, someone came to his rescue. A teenager with bright eyes approached him, an amused twitch of the lips on his sharp face. He was dressed simply: unlike the suit and tie ensemble of the richer Filipinos he'd come across or the pale blue uniform of the Philippine Army, he wore a thin white top and trousers cut just above his ankles. The scabbard on his hip would have been concerning if Alfred didn't know just how many Filipinos carried knives in their daily lives. All in all, he looked just like any other street vendor, but the red handkerchief tied around his neck was vibrant enough to make him stand out. "You are American, yes?"

"Ah yeah," Alfred flushed, a bit flustered. The way the stranger leaned in was a little too close for comfort, but he looked harmless and at least he spoke English. "Can you help me? I think that man is talking to me, but I can't understand what he's saying."

The teenager grabbed his arm to pull him to the side. The old man tipped his straw hat in thanks, and the teenager smiled, saying: "Pasensya na po, lolo! Hindi kasi taga-rito."

The two of them watched the wagon pass them by. They stood there in silence for a moment, and then Alfred blurted out, "I didn't know I was in the way, I swear."

"You did seem quite distracted." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the other boy laugh. The both of them turned to each other at the same time, a small smile on each other's faces. "Not that I blame you. I am sure you have sunsets in America, but it is different here than in other countries. I think the colors are more vibrant, do you agree?"

"Certainly takes my breath away," he admitted. "I do have to ask, how come you speak English so well? I've only been in Manila for a few days but I don't think I've met another Filipino that's as good as you are."

The teenager only laughed again and held on to Alfred's arm tighter. As he looked up at him, his eyes and grin were equally bright with mirth; and despite himself, Alfred was a bit charmed. "Us Filipinos are not as stupid as you think, señorito. Now, you say you are a stranger to Manila, yes? Come with me, and let me show you around my city."

—

They ended up hailing a tranvia, a carriage made to carry a whole group of people instead of just a pair. Alfred found it small and quaint, making an internal note to build tram lines in the city once he was able. Yet the energy that the teenager had with him was larger than life. He had apparently noticed the other passengers giving Alfred a suspicious side-eye, and immediately launched into a round of jokes to dispel the tension. Though he barely understood the jokes due to them being told in a mix of Spanish and Tagalog, the way that the whole tranvia burst into loud laughter was enough to assure him that his companion was quite the comedic performer.

When they got off, the driver even thanked them for the entertainment and told them not to pay the fare anymore. Alfred let out an excited whoo! as the teenager did an exaggerated bow.

As the carriage rode off, Alfred turned to his new friend and exclaimed, "Wow! The way you handled that was amazing! I mean, I've been through worse than an awkward train ride, but you definitely saved my ass back there."

The teenager blushed slightly. "Think nothing of it. I would rather see my companions happy and comfortable in my care than anything else."

"Still, that thing you did was certainly a swell sight." Alfred breathed in the cold evening air and let it out with a contented sigh. He looked straight into the other boy's eyes as he said, "And it's really nice that you're going through all the trouble to be with me tonight too! Like, we don't even know each other's names but you just whisked me away like some kind of fairytale hero! That was really awesome of you, I have to say."

"You are a man of sweet words," the teenager said, with a smile that looked almost bittersweet. Then, as if he had completely forgotten about his melancholy, he grabbed Alfred's arm again and dragged him towards the next street corner. "But let us not waste time talking! Most of these shops close soon, and I would hate for us to miss them!"

Helpless, Alfred let himself be strung along.

Sadly, most of the shops they went past had already closed for the day. Still, the teenager cheerily talked his ear off about what wares they sold and the local gossip about the people who ran those stores — like Pepito, owner of the clay pottery store, who had apparently given away all his lotto winnings to the next city's blacksmith. The one time that they had actually been able to buy something was when they came across a small, brightly-colored cart that apparently sold the Filipino version of ice cream. Both the vendor — Mang Tomas, as he was introduced — and the teenager had chuckled when he brought out a wallet full of dollars, so the teenager had to reach into his own pocket to pay with a few coins. As they walked past yet another cathedral, Alfred caught his friend singing the hymns under his breath. When they reached the plaza, the teenager then asked the lady standing nearby — Aling Nena, he was told — to give him a jasmine garland, the scent of the white flowers so powerful that it immediately made Alfred sneeze on his friend's face when he put them around his neck. Yet instead of getting mad like he expected, the teenager had only laughed and told him he looked handsome.

No matter where they went or who they talked to, his friend always seemed to know everyone's names. Alfred had no idea how he had the time to possibly get so familiar with all the people around him, but he certainly understood the sentiment; he loved talking with all the Americans that he came across with too. Personally getting to know the people who made his nation always made him feel more connected with them in a way that war and politics never could.

And if the Philippine Islands was truly to be his someday, Alfred knew he wanted to treat them similarly. More than anything or anyone else though, nobody in the archipelago had intrigued him most than the young man beside him whose smile was brighter than any star.

Yet all his experience in small talk failed him tonight, and not for lack of trying. Every time he asked questions about his friend, he was always diverted away from the topic.

Which part of the city are you from? was met with a vague Do you ask the flower which vine it came from? You are better off simply enjoying the whole garden.

Where is your family? had been completely ignored as his friend said You must be hungry, yes? I know a place with the best empanadas this side of Binondo.

What is your name? earned him a cheeky wink and a teasing If your mind still ventures to inane questions like that, then I am not doing very well in completely impressing you.

How old are you? made the teenager burst out into loud, hearty laughter that lasted for more than a minute. Alfred didn't even bother to try asking anything else after that, choosing to focus on his empanadas and arroz a la valenciana for the rest of the meal.

Later, when they were served a bottle of gin to share along with a bowl of peanuts, his friend had the grace to apologize for his behavior.

"I truly am sorry," he said, but the playful grin on his face made it difficult to take his apology seriously. "I simply do not think that you knowing more about me is more important than us having a good time together."

"How am I supposed to find you again if I don't know who you are, huh?" Alfred couldn't stop himself from whining. He ignored the glass in front of him, taking a swig straight from the bottle and letting the alcohol burn down his throat. His friend watched him in bemusement. "This has been the best night of my life in a long time. And if this is the last time we see each other, I don't think I'm going to forgive myself if I don't push you into giving me a hint."

This time, it was his friend's turn to take a drink: he filled his glass half-full and downed it all in one go. "You are certainly bold, señorito, I will give you that. A good friend of mine warned me about how loud and annoying Americans were, but it seems he neglected to tell me about how forward you all were as well."

Alfred resisted the urge to roll his eyes; of course, he would get deflected yet again. "Alright, I'll bite. Tell me more about your friend."

The teenager looked surprised. "You wish to know more about a man that insulted you?"

"If this is the closest I get to you telling me more about yourself, I'll take it," he shrugged. "Besides, I'd love to know how this friend of yours thinks. Americans are the greatest people in the world! He must be stupid if he doesn't know that."

The other boy laughed. "Of course you would say that, you biased brute. And I will have you know that my friend was quite smart, actually. One of the smartest men I have ever known."

Alfred felt like he wouldn't like the answer, but he asked anyway: "Was?"

All traces of laughter from his friend's face faded away into a hollow smile. "Killed by firing squad a few years ago."

Silently, Alfred poured gin into both of their glasses. They drank in solemn solidarity.

"My sincere condolences," said Alfred, and he meant it: he had lost too many friends himself over the centuries. "And I'm sorry I called him stupid."

His friend waved it off. "No worries. Pepe was incredibly intelligent, but he definitely had his fair share of stupid moments — you wouldn't believe how many times that man fell in love over the course of his short lifetime. Still, I miss him terribly and I wish he was still around. God only knows what he would have thought about everything happening at present."

"Oh, I know the feeling." Despite him dying decades prior, Alfred still longed for George Washington's steadfast guidance sometimes. He reached, a bit messily, for another drink. "It's uncanny, yeah? Some people just have this weird ability to analyze the present and predict the future. I certainly don't know how they do anything like it, really. I kind of just talk big and hope for the best."

"Funny that you talk about the future," the teenager chuckled. "Somehow, my friend even managed to predict that you would come here, Alfred. I did not believe him at the time, of course, but here you are."

"Here I am," Alfred repeated faintly. "Hold on, how did you know my—"

"Why were you all alone in my city, señorito?" His friend interrupted, looking up at him through his eyelashes. He leaned closer, close enough for the skin of their arms to touch, and Alfred suddenly forgot about all his worries. "I was very surprised to see you on your own, looking every bit like a lost little lamb. You are very lucky that I found you."

"Lucky indeed," he murmured, adjusting the collar of his shirt. It felt like the temperature in the room had risen by a dozen degrees. "Just wanted to explore, is all. MacArthur told me we had to stay low for a few more weeks, I got bored, and he let me out."

Those bright eyes were practically glittering as the teenager looked up at him, his fingers slowly tracing up his arm. "And you were alone? I always thought American soldiers traveled in pairs, but perhaps I was mistaken."

"No! No, you're right, you're definitely right," Alfred stammered out. He was sure his face was completely red by now. "I was with Private Wilkes earlier, but we, ah, got separated. He must be on the way back to Bulacan by now."

"How unfortunate," the other practically purred, clearly delighted. "Say, tell me, how did this Wilkes look like? Because I am sure that he does not look as handsome as you do."

That damned smile, now coy instead of kind and sweet, was tantalizingly close. If only he had the courage to lean down—

Alfred, trying desperately to distract himself, grabbed the bottle again and took a long swig.

There were about a million promises that threatened to spill from Alfred's lips, each one more outrageous than the other: Come with me. Stay with me. I'll keep you safe. I'll love you. Yet at the moment, he found himself tongue-tied. He didn't know if it was the alcohol or the atmosphere or the way the young boy across the table had so effortlessly allured him, but he felt like he was about to go insane. He barely registered the both of them standing up to leave, didn't question why they didn't need to pay at the restaurant, paid no heed to what his friend had whispered to the men standing guard by the door. His mind was in a muddy haze, and all he could focus on was the fact that his friend was holding his hand as he was led into the dark streets.

Dimly, Alfred thought that however striking he looked by the setting sun, he looked much more ethereal bathed in moonlight.

He must have said this aloud because the teenager laughed.

"You are a man of sweet words," he said, and there's that oddly bittersweet smile again. "And I wish we could have met in better circumstances."

"What's wrong with the way we met today? I had fun," Alfred argued. He swayed slightly on his feet, and his friend held on to him to keep him from falling. "Didn't you have fun?"

"You forget we are at war, señorito. And you forget that you are seeking to control me and my people, not find a lover." Despite the harsh words, the way his friend said this was soft and sad. Almost like he was somehow hurt. "It does not matter what we feel today if we are bound to fight each other tomorrow. Should you not know this by now?"

They walked together in silence, each supporting the other. Slowly, Alfred's alcohol-induced dizziness began to subside. It was replaced by a growing emptiness in his chest — and a heavy, heavy realization.

"You knew I was America this entire time." When his friend deigned to respond, he continued. "Then, why...?"

At this, the teenager laughed — broken and wistful and desperate, all at once. "I do not know myself. I was ready to attack you, but for some reason, the look in your eyes as you watched the sunset stopped me. I thought, if you could look at my country with such amazement, then you could see that this war is unnecessary. That if you could know my land and my people the way I knew them, full of vibrancy and color and light, then you could realize that they did not deserve to die.

"Yet as the night went on I began to realize my efforts were fruitless. It was not them you were looking at anymore, but me." Here, his friend faced him; Alfred barely catching a glimpse of his wet eyes before the teenager looked away. "Believe me, I would love to spend another night like this with you. But you have your responsibilities and so do I."

"Fruitless," Alfred repeated hollowly. The cold night wind was in stark contrast to the hot rage he felt bubbling inside him. He forcefully wrenched himself away from his friend, yelling: "You made me tell you classified information!"

In seconds, he watched the teenager's face go from shock to hurt to an angry glare.

"Do you not understand how badly I need to win this war? My people did not give their lives to free me from Spain just so you could swoop in and take over! So forgive me, señorito," his friend spat mockingly, "for trying to find whatever advantages my poor nation can get against such an imperialistic nation like you!"

"And do you not understand what we're trying to do here?" Alfred shouted. "We are fighting this war to save you! Don't you see that your country is a mess? That you're underdeveloped, uneducated, and unfit for self-rule? I was the hero who helped save your people from Spain, jackass, and—"

"—and you promised to give us independence, and yet all your countrymen seem to do is kill." The teenager finished, both his eyes and the hilt of his knife glinting golden under the moonlight. "Is that what freedom means to you, America? I beg to differ."

As Alfred stepped away from him in furious, furious betrayal, all he could think about was that the other boy looked so small.

"I thought of you as my friend," he said.

"And I thought of you as my liberator," the teenager said coolly. "I see we were both wrong."

A harsh whinny interrupted them both. Alfred turned to find Patton riding a chestnut brown horse, his face red from exhaustion but seemingly unharmed. The private stopped in front of him, dismounting without grace on the pavement. His face was red from exhaustion and his clothes looked considerably ruffled, but otherwise, he looked unharmed.

"It ain't my position to say this sire, but don't you dare ever try to run away from me like that again," Patton panted, giving a quick side-eye to the other teenager before dismissing him. "We best hurry now, because those two won't be happy about their stolen horse."

Just as he was about to ask who those two were, a pair of Filipinos with muskets turned the corner and ran towards them. He vaguely recognized them as the same two men who were standing guard at the restaurant. They shouted loudly, a mix of Tagalog and Spanish expletives that Alfred could barely recognize, and a phrase distinct enough that he felt like it was something significant: amang bayan.

Patton evidently recognized the words. He looked at him in a wide-eyed panic, saying, "Sire, we need to leave—"

And as quick as lightning, Patton fell to the ground with a sickening crack. Caught completely off-guard and his arms restrained, he was helpless against the teenager who had a knife at his throat: a knife that, as Alfred began to realize with a horrified lurch of his stomach, was engraved with golden flowers and the insignia of an eight-rayed sun.

"You must be Private Wilkes," the Philippines smiled. "I do hope you are enjoying my country."

"Get off him or else!" Alfred screamed, the combined events of the night making him feel like he was about to reach his breaking point. He reached for the pistol he kept hidden on his belt and took aim, hoping to God that the other nation wouldn't force him to shoot. Even after everything, he didn't feel like he had the nerve to hurt Philippines after the hours they spent together; maybe some other day, but not tonight.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that the two men had caught up to them. They angled their muskets at him from a distance. The horse, which Alfred had been planning to use for escape, had already taken off running in the commotion.

Patton stared up at him with fear in his eyes, a bleeding gash on his forehead, and Alfred's hands began to shake.

Above all else, Philippines was still smiling: eyes bright, amused twitch of the lips on his sharp face. Slowly, he stood to approach him.

Like a switch had been flicked, his features turned soft and kind again — more like the boy that Alfred had met earlier, the boy who had dragged him around the streets of Manila with lighthearted laughter, the boy whose smile was brighter than any star. All Alfred could do was stand there, mesmerized once again, as his hand was gently pried away from the gun.

"Alfred," Philippines said this quietly, almost like he was invoking a prayer. He motioned the men to stand down. "I do not wish to fight."

"I don't want to either," Alfred admitted. Maybe there was hope... "C'mon, we can talk this through, right? Look, we haven't had a battle in months. It should be really easy to negotiate, yeah? I'll set up a meeting with your generals and mine, we'll have a civil discussion with no weapons allowed, and we'll reach a compromise."

The other nation was leaning in, and this time, Alfred took his chance. He held Philippines' cheek in his hands and they kissed, soft and quick and chaste.

"Of course," Alfred said, as he pulled away. "I would need your complete surrender—"

He was swiftly kneed in the stomach, disarmed, and shot.

"Alfred, I do not wish to fight," Philippines said, as he watched Alfred collapse to the ground. "But I have to. I hope you understand."

He vaguely registered Patton reaching out to him as his eyes closed and the blood pooled around him, but all he could focus on was watching the other nation walk away into the darkness.

—

When Alfred came to, he was already back at camp. Without thinking, he immediately trudged to the general's war office.

"Good morning, Major-General MacArthur," he smiled, bright and cheery. "Gather the troops. I want to destroy Manila immediately."

—

Notes:

This is set in October 1899, during those months when there were no battles or skirmishes between the two armies. On the first day of November, the Americans launched a major attack on the Filipinos. This attack happened in San Fabian, Pangasinan, not in Manila, but let's forget about that.

Major-General MacArthur is, of course, Arthur MacArthur Jr., who was a major military figure during the Philippine-American War. I also claim artistic license in hinting that the American camp was in Bulacan because it probably wasn't.

Alfred's comments about Manila looking like Mexico are based on a comment by former president Manuel L. Quezon when he visited Mexico back in 1937: "Everything was the same." He meant that very, very affectionately.

Here's a nifty map of modern Manila. Alfred and Patton start out in Quiapo, which is basically the heart of downtown Manila. Alfred runs all the way to Muelle del Rey, which, coincidentally, happens to be the same place where the Jones Bridge stands today. Alfred and Phili take the tranvia to Binondo, Manila's business district and home to the world's oldest Chinatown.

The names of the store owners and vendors that Phili talks about are references to assorted media in Philippine pop culture. Pepito is a reference to Pepito Manaloto, a long-time comedy show about a man who won the lotto. Mang Tomas (Mang being an informal way to refer to a male adult older than you) is the name of a popular brand of gravy. Aling Nena (Aling being an informal way to refer to a female adult older than you) is a reference to the song Tindahan ni Aling Nena, about a boy who falls in love with a storeowner's daughter.

The garland of white jasmines that Phili puts around Alfred's neck are supposed to be sampaguitas, our national flower. They're usually sold near churches and are given as a sign of respect.

I have no idea if there are actually empanadas and valenciana sold somewhere in Binondo, but let's jot that down to artistic license. But these are very much Filipino foods that were adapted from Spanish foods, which is why Phili brings it up when Alfred asks about his family.

The old friend that Phili keeps talking about is Jose Rizal, our national hero. He is primarily known for being a great writer, whose novels inspired the Philippine War for Independence, and for being killed for it. He is also known for being having a long list of lovers, many of them not even Filipino. Lesser known is the fact that he visited America, hated it, went on a train ride with an American, and hated it. He wrote a whole diary entry about how much he didn't like America and Americans. He had also predicted that out of all the world powers, it would be America who would probably take an interest in conquering the Philippines when Spain was out of the picture. Go figure. Rizal was also affectionately known by his nickname, Pepe.

I imagine Phili to be particularly proficient in arnis, which is also known as kali or eskrima. It's a kind of Filipino martial art, most easily recognizable as that one martial art where everyone is dual-wielding a pair of sticks. The sticks are actually for training. Traditionally, arnis is fought by dual-wielding knives or swords, and it's meant to be quick and efficient in defending, attacking, disarming, and killing. Phili's fictional ornately designed knife is inspired by this very real ornately designed knife. The detail of the eight-rayed sun is a reference to the eight-rayed sun in the Philippine flag.

Lastly (phew!), some Tagalog to English translations!

Hijo, padaan naman po - Young boy, kindly let me pass Pasensya na po, lolo! Hindi kasi taga-rito - Sorry, grandfather*! He's not from around here. Lolo literally means grandfather but is a general way to refer to any elderly man regardless of any actual blood relation. Amang bayan - Fatherland

#hws #hws america #hws philippines #usph #amephil #hetalia philippines #hetalia america #aph philippines #aph america #historical hetalia #mine

[nemesis-is-my-middle-name]

“Just keep breathing. In and out. You’re doing great.” 11 with lewthur but with caretaker Arthur again bc it’s my favorite okay

HELL YEAH (source)

(context: instead of dying in the cave, lewis was “saved” and taken hostage by the station people, who also found reverb trapped in the arm. and they wiped vivi’s memories. juuust to be thorough)

Arthur never really expected to find Lewis anywhere they went – not after the first few times, it was just setting himself up for disappointment – but if he'd thought about it, he would have said that he was hoping not to find him here.

Lewis hated doctors, hated anything medical, hated white walls and being trapped and this place was the worst possible place for him. Underground and freezing cold, devoid of any real signs of life, full of cold, clinical language.

But as soon as Arthur noticed the musical theme of the place, a sick feeling of anticipation started to settle in his stomach.

That only got worse when they eventually found a room with a working computer. Arthur instructed Vivi and Mystery to watch the doors, and then started to search through the files – it seemed to just have a database, along with some other tools he wasn’t confident enough to touch yet. Most of the listed subjects weren’t human, were some kind of spirit or magic creature – but there was one, listed as human subject, that made his heart drop.

Harmony. He knew that name, remembered Lewis as a tiny child and that name sewn into the back of his shirt but if anyone said it he’d panic or shut down–

He committed the room code to memory and took off, not even bothering to give the other two a we’re going! first. The tunnels turned into a blur as he raced through them, barely stopping to check the signs for which way to turn.

Then, finally, they made it to the right room, and he slammed the door open. There was an observation window splitting the room in half, and he looked through it and–

–oh. Oh, god.

It was unmistakably Lewis, even with his hair out of its usual style and hanging in limp, dirty coils over his face, slumped over in the corner and god he’d lost so much weight–

“Shit,” he faintly heard Vivi breathe behind him, “shit, is that a person-?”

He didn’t have time to answer her, he had to get in there – but the door to into the test chamber was locked, someone must have left it like that when this place was abandoned not too long ago. He was reaching for the set of picks he’d stashed in his vest when he picked up a faint noise from behind the glass and his head jerked up.

Something... dark and smoky – mist? Fog? – was seeping into the chamber. Slowly, it took on a shape that looked almost... human. Its head – if it could be called that yet – was already focused in on Lewis, who was still unresponsive.

There was no time to pick the lock, he could feel it. Instead he backed up and balled his prosthetic hand into a fist and rammed it into the wall as hard as he could, and the glass, as it is wont to do, shattered.

He forced his way through the newly-made hole, paying no attention to the shards around the edge, and scrambled a couple steps forward before that thing had its eyes on him. It was forming a face now, glowing and sick green in a way that felt too familiar, in a blurry half-remembered way.

“Well, look at this!” it crowed, swirling slightly upward. “You’re actually here! It’s like a little reunion.”

Then it was moving for him, and there was nothing he could do to fight something that wasn’t corporeal –

And then Vivi stepped in with her bat at the ready, and Mystery hopped in after her, and the thing visibly recoiled, looking between the two of them. Its eyes settled on the dog for a moment, and it hissed. “You.”

Arthur didn’t pay too much attention to them – he was already moving for Lewis, dropping to his knees in front of him and with the monster at his back. 

“Lewis?“ he said, keeping his voice soft. He must have heard him, because his head picked up–

–and then he lunged back with a small gasp, eyes going wide with fear. He only got a little ways before something stopped him with a loud clank – he was bound to the wall.

“Lewis, it’s okay-” Arthur reached out to him with one hand, trying to reassure him, and then snapped his attention to the chains. He kept up a steady stream of reassurances as he worked, “it’s okay, you’re safe now, you’re going to be okay, just hang on.”

By some incredible stroke of luck, for which he spent a moment silently thanking whatever-was-watching in his head, whoever was in charge of the security in this place had made the common-but-still-embarrassing mistake of buying from a company that sounded fancy but didn’t actually have any idea how to make a lock. He shimmed it open in barely a second and the entire thing fell apart.

He looked back to Lewis, who still seemed frozen – had he even recognized him yet? – and scooted a little closer, reaching out again. This time he didn’t flinch away, and Arthur was able to close the distance and put a hand on his cheek. It was tacky with dried tears or sweat – it was impossible to tell – and his eyes were almost sunken, surrounded by dark circles.

“Lewis, it’s me,” he tried again. “I’m here now.”

He drew a little closer and then Lewis practically fell into him, burying his face in his shoulder. His breathing was shaky, unsteady, and if he was trying to hug him he was too weak to even get his hands up to his shoulders. Arthur just held him for a moment, rubbing his back with one hand, trying not to pay attention to the outline of his ribs and spine.

“We need to move,” he said after a moment, remembering that Vivi and Mystery were still holding back that thing. “Can you walk?”

“...dunno,” was the hoarse, almost-whispered reply.

“Okay. Just lean on me, okay? I’ve got you.”

They stood up together, Lewis’s legs shaking and threatening to give out before Arthur caught him and supported him a little more. This time, Arthur remembered to call out to Vivi as they were headed for the exit, and he briefly saw her head jerk around before he looked back towards the hole they’d made in the glass. He briefly struggled to get Lewis over the hole without scraping his knees, he couldn’t lift his legs high enough – and then Vivi was on his other side and, without another question, lifting him up and dragging him along, and they all started to run.

They were almost to what looked like a fire exit, when Arthur heard that indistinct whispering that had preceded the spirit’s arrival earlier. He saw wisps on the edge of his vision and could only try to move faster. Vivi suddenly disappeared and Lewis dipped forward, slowing both of them down significantly. The spirit was forming again next to him, that same sick grin stretched across its face–

Vivi’s bat connected with the thing’s chest and it exploded in a shower of ice-blue light.

When the light cleared, there was a frozen impact of ice shards in its chest, and it was visibly reeling. Vivi stared at it for a second, and then turned and ran for the others again, and that was everyone’s cue to start moving.

Arthur shouldered the door open, and thankfully there were only a few stairs, and he could see the bright orange of their van through the trees.

“Vivi, you drive,” he said when they were getting close to it.

She stared at him for a moment, visibly bewildered by this request. “What? I can-”

“Please.” He couldn’t leave Lewis alone, and she didn’t know what was going on, didn’t know how to help.

Maybe she could see or hear his desperation, because she didn’t argue anymore, just nodded and headed for the driver’s seat.

“Where are we going?”

“Home.”

Arthur helped Lewis up the steep ledge of the van’s back doors, and then they both dropped to the ground, and it was silent for a moment as the van’s engine whirred to life and they started moving.

It didn’t take much longer for Lewis to start hyperventilating.

Arthur was there in an instant, pulling him to his chest again, and forcing his own breathing to be even and slow as he rubbed his back and murmured reassurances. “It’s okay. You’re safe. We’re gone, you’re never going back there. Just keep breathing. In and out. You’re doing great.”

It wasn’t long before he devolved into what might have been weak, hiccupy sobs, though he was too dehydrated for any actual tears. Arthur started carding one hand through his hair.

“You want some water?” he asked after a while. Lewis just nodded unsteadily against his shirt. 

Arthur pulled away a little and grabbed a bottle of water from the cooler. He helped Lewis drink, guiding the bottle with his hands.

After that, Lewis just stared at him for a while, and then reached out and put a hand over his.

“This... is you? You’re... real?”

His voice was still weak, but not quite as ragged as it had been before. Arthur picked up his hand and squeezed it.

“Yeah. I’m here. I promise.”

--

Lewis spent most of the next day pretty out of it, sleeping occasionally only to jolt awake at the slightest disturbance. Arthur barely left his side the entire time, except to grab water or something light to try to coax him to eat. He was always there to hold him and offer reassurances that yes, he was here, this was real, he was home and he wasn’t going to go anywhere.

At some point, pretty late in the night, Lewis was curled up against Arthur’s shoulder again, at the end of another bout of weak sobbing. He lifted his head only barely to speak.

“I still... smell like that place,” he murmured.

“You wanna take a shower?” Arthur answered, sitting up a little.

“Mm... too much work...” he laid his head back down again. “Don’t want you to leave...”

“I’ll help. C’mon.”

So Arthur pulled off the papery gown Lewis was still dressed in and helped him bathe, replacing the smell of sweat and disinfectant with the flowers and sweet vanilla of the bath soaps. He didn’t say anything about the large, messy, still-healing gashes in his side, just gently washed away the blood still left around the wound. He worked shampoo and conditioner through his hair, detangling the messy locks until they lay almost flat against his neck. The gentle rhythm lulled Lewis almost to sleep, swaying slightly as he sat in the bath, Arthur humming softly to him.

Once that was done, he helped him into clean pajamas, finally rid of every lingering trace of that fucking facility. Lewis’s own bed was dirty from him lying in it, so until the sheets could be changed, they both laid down in Arthur’s room instead.

They laid there in the darkness, the only sound a distant fan running in some other part of the house, and for a while, were just silent.

“...thank you,” Lewis said eventually, not opening his eyes.

“Of course,” Arthur responded immediately. “Don’t worry about it.”

“You came for me,” he continued. “I thought you were...”

Oh. He wasn’t just talking about the bath.

Arthur sat up a little, putting one hand on Lewis’s face and tilting it up toward his. “Hey. Look at me. I will always be there for you. No matter what. I’d look forever if I had to, okay? I would never leave you in a place like that.”

Lewis nodded slightly, and then went back to curling up against him.

“Thank you,” he said again, a barely-audible whisper.

#mystery skulls animated #lewthur #the nemesis speaks #the nemesis answers #swift writes #medical tw #i say 'this got away from me' a lot but tbh. i knew this was gonna be long when i started #arthur taking care of lewis. godtier #eagefree

[oopskashish]

Broken love

A/N: alrighty, I was feeling hella angsty last night so I wrote this. Hope you all like it.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x reader

Summary: Fred has fallen in love with someone rather than the reader, his girlfriend.

Warning: it's pure angst. Maybe a lil fluffy in the starting but it only contributes in the pain.

Y/N came into the gryffindor common room, exhausted both physically and mentally. The load of assignments was too much for anyone to bear, but after getting sick recently, she had to stay in the Hospital wing and miss out more.

She smiled when she saw Fred, her boyfriend. She adored him, she really did. They had met in their first year on train and from then she and the twins became best of friends.

The beautiful feelings bloomed up in forth year. It was out of the blue, but heavenly as ever. The two loved each other a lot.

Fred was a fantastic boyfriend. He was affectionate and himself was just so lovable. She adored his jokes and pranks, and participated in a few herself.

Even Fred's entire family loved her immensely. Molly always sent a sweater and many delicacies for her on Christmas while Arthur always praised her for knowing so much about the muggle world.

His brothers and she shared the same love for quidditch. Also, she and Charlie could ramble about dragons forever and a half. Ginny and her were good friends, always finding themselves staying up at nights and talking till the neither of them could keep their eyes open.

But recently, they both had been slipping away. She blamed it all on the pressure from school. Of course, why would they slip away because of a reason other than this?

Fred looked at the entrance and got up when she came in. The two of them walked to each other.

"Can I talk to you?" Fred asks her.

"Of course, love." She smiles.

"In private." She nods. Fred leads her to his dorm.

She couldn't help but notice how he didn't reach out for her hand just like he always did. She shrugged off the thought.

Maybe he is just tired or something is there on his mind.

She sat on his bed and watched him pace in front of her, running a hand through those soft red hair she loved to play with.

"Fred?" She watches how he didn't meet her eyes as halted in front of her and looked at the ground. "Is there something wrong?"

"I'm sorry." Fred exhales out.

"What happened?" She asks softly, standing up and cupping his face and making him look at her.

"I am in love with someone else." Fred says.

Y/N's jaw drops as tears start to form in her eyes, her hands falter away. They were quaking, trembling with the sudden pang of pain that she felt spread from her chest to her entire body like a wildfire.

"With whom?" She whispers, her voice thick with emotions. It was a wonder how she didn't sobbed at the last word.

"Angelina."

Her eyes shut close as she looked at the ground, breathing heavily.

Of course, it was Angelina.

She noticed on breakfast a few days ago how Fred's eyes were set on her, mesmerized by each action. She had shrugged it off, not letting the thought get in her head.

She had watched how he got distracted by staring at her, so intently that a bludger had hit him, knocking him off his broom.

She had noticed the growing interactions between the two, unusual how the two would always be blushing.

She felt his hand wipe away the tears that were rolling down her cheek, she stepped back. She opened her eyes which were now red.

"I am so sorry." He whispered.

Y/N bit her lip, holding back a sob.

"I hope she makes you happy like I thought I did." She whispered, her voice breaking painfully.

With each word she felt a thousand swords pierce her heart and twist in the most tortuous manner possible. Her heart was bleeding agony, and it slipped into her veins, rushing to each part of her body at the speed of light.

She picked up the bag that she had abandoned on his bed, and swung it on her shoulders. She wiped the tears away, which was useless since only more came out.

She wrapped her arms around herself, and walked to the door.

"Y/N."

She squeezed her eyes shut. Hearing her name from him only made her soul shatter into a hundred thousand pieces, all laying broken on the floor.

"Can we still be friends?" He asks her in a whisper.

"Sorry Fred," she chokes out, "but I need to heal first."

She slipped out of the door before he could say another word. She dashed her way to her room.

Fortunately it was empty.

She took a bag, and opened it. She put all the belongings of Fred in it. All the love letters he had written to her, all the gifts, his shirt, the jumpers made by Molly, and everything that had a connection with him.

She wrote a letter to Fred, telling him that she can't have all this stuff anymore. She wrote to Molly, apologising for returning it, but she needed to let go of Fred completely to move on.

With each curve of letter, she cried and let the pain flood through the ink. She wiped away her tears, preventing them to smudge the letter. It was agonising to let him go.

But he wasn't hers anymore, and that was the sad truth.

She put the letters in the bag, writing to Fred that pass the letter to Molly when he was ready to tell his mother.

She zipped the bag, planning to give it to him via the owl. Her legs shook as she fell on the ground, her knees finally collapsing as a sob tore it's way through her throat.

She cried till her lungs were aching with a raw pain that was nothing in comparison to how she felt emotionally. She hugged herself, as if trying to warm herself in a world of eternal snow.

She wanted to get rid of all the memories. She wanted to let go of the thought of his smile, that warm grin which wasn't meant for her, not anymore. She wanted to forget how ecstatic she felt around him. She wanted to erase him completely.

But she wondered how will she get rid of the heart that loved him so relentlessly.

-/-/-/-

Send me an ask if you wanna be in my taglist :)

General taglist: @bl597 @obsessedwithrandomthings @firewhisky-kisses @pregnant-piggy @remmyswritings @harrypotter289 @mytreec @strawberriesonsummer @yourssuccubus @idont-knowrn @simplymagicalwritings @kalimagik

#fred #fred weasley x y/n #fred x reader #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley #fred and george #fred weasley x you #harry potter #angst #fred weasley angst #Fred Weasley #hp imagine #hp #hp fandom #hp fanfic #fanfic #fan #fangirl #harry james potter

[forsakenoathkeeper]

I Am Alive (chapter 19/?)

Chapter 19: The Missing Android

Deviant!Connor[RK800] x (fem!)Reader Rated M(18+) for canon-typical violence and gore, medical procedures, and graphic sexual content

Chapters: 1 • 2 • 3 • 4 • 5 • 6 • 7 • 8 • 9 • 10 • 11 • 12 • 13 • 14 • 15 • 16 • 17 • 18 • 19 • more coming soon

You can also read on AO3 & thank you for supporting me ♥

The Detroit Police Department had yet to make any substantial progress on the murder that occurred at AlphaBio a few weeks back, before another murder case hit their desks.

Connor stepped past the holographic caution tape into the building where their crime scene was located, immediately noticing the smell of blood was heavy in the air. In response, he turned his scent receptors down from standard to low. A body was sprawled out on the floor, cheek pressed into the pool of blood puddled beneath them.

"Nolin Greene," Officer Wilson stated when he saw Connor walk in. "M.E. estimated dead less than six hours."

Connor nodded at him before scanning Greene's body with his optical unit. He was 52 years old, had never been married, and was previously employed at Cyberlife as one of their esteemed programmers.

Even without scanning the man's corpse, it was obvious he had died from multiple gunshot wounds. One prominent bullet hole left a gaping wound in the back of his head, likely just to ensure he was dead, considering he had a few on his torso in addition.

Hank rounded the corner with a sigh. "All the security cameras were offline. Haven't been since pre-rev," he explained, approaching Connor.

He waited until Officer Wilson stepped away to lean into Connor with his arms crossed. "What did they make here?" Hank asked quietly.

"They used to generate code for androids operating systems and protocols," Connor explained smoothly, matching Hank's hushed tone. "All android manufacturing has been put to a halt. He had no reason to be here."

"Good point," Hank said lowly. "Would they have kept anything here?"

"Considering the audits Cyberlife financers are going through, I would imagine this place was-... scrubbed clean, so to speak," Connor replied, briefly glancing around the office space. Judging by the dust pileup and the damage to one of the windows, this place had likely sat abandoned for months.

"You think it's related to AlphaBio?" Hank asked the android. "Chips were stolen from that plant. This facility creates code. That's a dangerous combination," he observed.

Connor gave Hank an agreeing look before eyeing the room again. Officers had brought in crime scene lights to cast out the darkness, and a flashlight was on the floor, labeled as evidence. It was next to Greene's body and had his fingerprints on it, powered off likely due to dead batteries. It didn't require any detective skills to see the power was cut off completely to the building.

"Greene was likely here to meet someone," Connor observed. "Who made the 911 call?"

Officer Wilson walked back in, careful not to step in any of the evidence. "An android apparently," he answered. "The call is saved in the case file."

"I'll pull it up now," Connor stated, using his HUD to pull up the case files remotely. "Would you like to listen, Hank?" he offered, eyes staring blindly ahead as his focus was elsewhere.

"Go for it," Hank said gruffly.

Connor's lips didn't move, but the sounds came from his mouth. Hank had seen him use his vocal processor like a speaker before; but, he never quite got used to it, and still found it very bizarre to see Connor look dead in the face while making noises that weren't his voice.

"911. What's your emergency?" the dispatcher asked.

Officer Wilson, who had never seen Connor do that before, stopped dead in his tracks and stared at the android in shock.

"My friend has been shot. I'm at-" a feminine voice followed. Seeing as she was an android, making the call with her internal processor, no outside noises could be heard, and there was no way to identify what made her suddenly stop talking.

The recorded 911 call continued in silence for a few more seconds before the android disconnected, giving dispatchers just enough time to locate the GPS coordinates from the call.

Connor stopped the recording and turned to Hank, his expressionless face returning to normal. He ignored Officer Wilson's concerned look.

"The android didn't block her GPS coordinates; so, she definitely wanted to be found," he explained to the lieutenant.

"She could have been the killer? Guy used to work at Cyberlife," Hank suggested thoughtfully. "Pissed off android?"

"Possibility," Connor acknowledged, nodding at the older detective. "However, she did identify him as her friend..."

The android trailed off, using his HUD to run a background check on Nolin Greene. "He belongs to no clubs, publicly, anyway, and has been unemployed since Cyberlife closed down. His former boss still has a primary residence in Detroit."

"Think he's worth a visit?" Hank offered more so than asked. "Let's go."

"I can drive," Connor offered, following the older detective as he headed for the exit.

"Fuck no," Hank immediately declared.

"Are you sure you can afford another speeding ticket?" the android challenged, some tease in his tone.

"I'm not gonna get another speeding ticket," Hank retorted fiercely, climbing into the driver's seat. He eyed Connor as the android shimmied into the passenger seat.

"Keep it up and your ass is walking," he threatened in a tone that Connor had grown rather accustomed to. It sounded sincere, but the android could tell the difference.

"Whatever you say, detective," Connor uttered, knowing full well his relaxed tone and stoic expression would irritate the older detective further.

Hank only grumbled in response.

...

...

...

Arthur Torres lived in a nice house in the posh, suburban side of town. He didn't seem at all surprised to find detectives at his door; however, he couldn't seem to bring himself to stop staring at Connor with blatant distrust and fear.

"You were a head programmer at Cyberlife for years," Hank stated, reciting information Connor had filled him in during their ride over. They had decided to let Hank lead with the likelihood that the man would be untrusting of Connor.

That seemed to be a very accurate assumption.

"Yes," Torres acknowledged Hank's statement.

"One of your former subordinates, Colin Greene, was murdered last night."

Torres was a skittish looking individual, and completely failed to maintain composure at the news. His hands were digging into his lap and he was struggling to keep still, fidgeting in his seat. Both the detectives doubted it was concern over Greene's livelihood, or lack of.

"Was it an android?" he asked, confirming their suspicions of his intentions.

Hank decided to ignore that question. "Greene's body was found at one of Cyberlife's office spaces, where programmers worked on their operating systems," the older detective explained. "We were hoping you could tell us why he would be there."

Connor decided to wear a cold look while he stood there, next to the couch where Hank had parked himself. The android was standing with perfect posture, arms crossed elegantly behind his back. It was clear that Torres was afraid of him. If he was being honest, he was taking advantage of that.

"Must have been the office where we worked," Torres offered quietly, trying to avoid Connor's piercing gaze. "I can't imagine why. The place was cleared out months ago. Did you ask Maria?"

Hank's brow lowered slightly. "Who?"

"Maria. She was a KL900 placed at our office. Nolin had reconfigured her so that she could test our codes. After the-" Torres' eyes flickered to Connor with uncertainty. "-revolution, he took her in - let her live with him."

Before Hank could utter another word, Torres continued, suddenly eager to run his mouth. "She had a lot of our incomplete code saved. I warned him it was dangerous to keep her."

The older detective looked down at his cellphone, that had vibrated quietly while Torres yapped. It was a text from Connor, reading, "the voice on the 911 call matches that model."

Hank tucked his phone back into his coat pocket. "What was their relationship like?"

"Well-" Torres began. "I suppose-... She was unique. He had modded her greatly - well beyond her manufactured purpose. I think he saw her as his own creation, in a way."

Again, before Hank could inquire further, Torres started up again. "She's missing, isn't she?"

Connor spoke up this time. "Are you suggesting she is somehow responsible?" His tone was calm, collected, almost polite, even; however, that was likely even more frightening than if he spoke with anger.

"I-" Torres stammered, eyes briefly flickering up to meet Connor's before immediately shifting back to the older detective. It was bizarre to think that this spineless man was once a lead programmer for Cyberlife.

"You can't think of any reason Greene would turn up dead in your old office?" Hank asked, maintaining the good cop persona he had taken up during this discussion.

"I can't think of why he would be there at all," Torres insisted.

"I would advise you offer something substantial," Connor warned, his tone cold and unyielding. "As of right now, you are our number one suspect."

"W-what?" Torres stammered, his panicked eyes falling on the android. "I haven't spoken to him since we were shut down. What motive could I possibly have?"

Connor's brown eyes remained unreadable, cold and robotic. That seemed to make Torres more uncomfortable than expressing valid emotion. "You said it yourself: he had access to incomplete code. Perhaps he knew something you didn't want getting out. So, you shut him up."

Torres' eyes landed on Hank, his gaze silently pleading, as if he expected Hank to stop Connor. Instead, the older detective wore a faint smirk. "He's got a point."

"No! I would never!" Torres defended himself loudly. "Y-you need to leave. I'm calling my lawyer."

...

...

...

"God, I love when those rich assholes lawyer up," Hank groaned as he climbed into his car. "It's like crying to mommy and daddy."

Connor slid into the passenger seat, a sour look on his face. "I pushed too hard. We probably could have gotten more out of him," he said apologetically.

"Nah," Hank retorted gruffly, silencing Connor's regrets. "We got the only useful thing out of him."

Hank pulled out of the street with a little more force than was necessary, mainly because he wanted to cause a fuss in the posh neighborhood. He could see the neighbors poking their heads out, rich and bored with nothing better to do than gossip. Hank's vintage car screamed detective or organized crime, and no in between.

"Let's check Greene's place. Maybe you can find something to help you locate this android," Hank suggested.

Greene's neighborhood wasn't as posh as Torres'; but, it was still nice, a little noisier with families out and about enjoying the weather. The warrant request had already been received and an electronic key had been sent over to Connor. He used the interface on his hand to let them inside.

The detectives walked around carefully, taking turns examining rooms for clues. The place was nicely furnished and impeccably clean. An android definitely lived here. If there was anything Connor could stereotype androids for, it was cleanliness.

There were a few photos hung up on the wall in the living room. The KL900 in the photos was likely Maria. She was an ordinary looking KL900, everything factory issued. Most of the photos were likely her at the Cyberlife programming facility.

There was one photo of just her and Nolin Greene together. She was wearing civilian clothes and her LED was removed. Their smiles suggested the relationship was a good one.

One of the bedrooms could easily be identified as Maria's room. There was no bed, but a desk with a charging station and a computer with an android interfacing tool in place of a mouse and keyboard. A quick scan of the room showed almost no fingerprints, except for a few on the door handle and door frame, which Connor immediately scanned as Nolin Greene's.

Hank was looking over a study that was likely Nolin's. The dark, stained wood desk was enough of a giveaway without all the golf memorabilia decorating the wall behind it. There was a laptop plugged into the charger. He figured CSI would pick it up later.

"Still waiting on that warrant for phone records!?" Hank called out.

Connor called back, "affirmative!"

"Damn," he grumbled to himself. "What's the holdup?"

The two detectives rendezvoused in the kitchen, exchanging disgruntled looks.

"No signs of a struggle," Hank observed.

"It wasn't a robbery. There aren't any fingerprints in the house not belonging to Greene," Connor explained. "The perpetrator left Greene's wallet and keys on his body... It's almost as if Greene was just... in the way."

The android looked away for a moment, staring off blindly as he searched Greene's employee folder again from Cyberlife's records. There was nothing in there about Maria, unsurprisingly. There were thousands of KL900's in circulation; so, there was no point in searching registered android records.

"Ya' thinking Greene wasn't the target?" Hank suggested.

"Assuming Torres wasn't giving us the runaround," Connor added on, setting a pondering gaze on the lieutenant, "Maria could have been the target; but... who would know that an ordinary looking KL900 has Cyberlife codes?"

"Someone who used to work for Cyberlife," Hank answered.

"It leads us back to Torres," Connor said sourly.

"He wasn't the only one that got bit in the ass," the older detective corrected him. "Lot's'a people out'a work. Lot's'a people facing lawsuits... and lot's'a people losing money. Oldest reason in the book."

"We need those phone records," Connor stated fiercely.

"I'm gonna call CSI. Get them on these damn computers," Hank stated, pulling out his cell phone.

"I could-"

"No."

...

...

...

After a long day of field work, Hank, Officer Wilson, Officer Miller, and Detective Collins gathered around a food truck a few blocks from the police station. It was already dark out and the street lights were illuminating the cityscape.

Connor decided to join them.

"You wouldn't fucking believe-" Officer Miller explained, an excited look in his eyes. "I thought this son of a bitch was gonna clock me. Connor came jumping over the roadblock and slam-dunked that motherfucker to the ground like this was WWE."

Detective Collins nearly chocked on his drink, doubling over with laughter. Hank was grinning, having witnessed that, and plenty of other amazing feats from the android, firsthand.

Officer Wilson nudged the android's shoulder. "Damn. Where the fuck were you when that crackhead tried to hit me with a baseball bat?" he teased, shoulders trembling with laughter and a wild, bright smile on his face.

Connor looked bashful, a crooked smile forming on his face.

"That's how you fucked up your hand," Hank added on.

"Small price to pay," Connor replied sincerely.

"Wait - was that how you met your lady friend? That nurse?" Officer Wilson asked, eyeing Connor suspiciously. He shifted his eyes to Miller with a grin. "Maybe I should save your dumbass next time and land me a hot nurse."

"You just need to get hurt," Miller replied with a grin, popping his knuckles dramatically. "I can help."

"I'd like to see you try," Wilson retorted. "You get knocked out by little old grandmas."

"That was Lewis," Detective Collins corrected. "But, it was pretty fucking funny."

"She put up quite a fight," Hank jumped in. "Earned that 'resisting arrest' with honors."

The conversation continued for a while, the men talking in-between eating their meals. Connor was mostly quiet, observing, occasionally jumping in when the moment seemed right. He worked with these guys almost every day and had grown to know them well; still, he found himself struggling to adjust to this - to fitting in.

When it was nearing eight o'clock, the android decided to dismiss himself.

"I'm gonna call it a night," he proclaimed, removing his elbows from the table. He had taken to using more common phrases around his coworkers, and this in particular was one of his favorites.

"Already? You don't sleep," Miller protested casually.

"He needs to get home so he can rearrange his girlfriend's guts," Wilson teased.

Miller and Collins broke out in laughter and Hank rolled his eyes, despite his faint smirk.

Connor stood there staring at them blankly, sincerely confused for a moment. Surely, that sort of thing would kill you. At the very least, it would cause severe damage that would require a surgeon. Why would he want to do such a thing?

A quick internet search, however, showed him that it was slang for rough sex.

He couldn't quite tell, but Connor was certain a faint blush had appeared on his cheeks. He spent 1.61 seconds internally debating if he should deny it or tease back.

At one point in the past, he might have taken this behavior as negative; however, he had grown to recognize banter as common between humans. The impersonality of it was how bonds were formed. Besides, he could easily recognize their teasing was unharmful. If anything, they were treating him like just another human, and that was more preferable.

"Maybe," he said lowly, the corner of his lip curling up slightly.

Connor's eyes reflected a mischievous glance at them briefly before he retreated. As he walked away, he heard the officers hollering obnoxiously at him, an echoing "ooohhh" as if he had declared something profound.

Before he was out of earshot, he could hear Hank grumpily, albeit fondly, telling them to "shut the fuck up".

#connor x reader #deviant connor x reader #dbh fanfic #rk800 x reader #rk800 smut #connor smut

[aph-english-rose]

Office Talk

So I originally wrote this fic for usuk week but was completely swamped with work and missed it. I’ve decided that instead of leaving it completed but abandoned that I’ll post even though the event it was intended for has been and gone. 

This was inspired by the 2021 usuk week prompt for day 1: Rumours! 

Paring: USUK

Words: 2711

Summary: Arthur has been the centre of many rumours since taking on the role of personal assistant. However, the most recent rumour floating around the office appears to be based upon more than just gossip. 

You can also read it on AO3 or on FF.Net

_____________________________________________________________

Arthur knew that something was off the moment he walked into the break room. Francis was lingering suspiciously beside the kettle in the corner, his lower back resting against the countertop. His fingertips were wrapped around an obnoxiously coloured reusable coffee cup, eyes staring off into the distance until he heard Arthur enter.

“Well, well, well… if it isn’t the man himself,” He remarked as Arthur approached him. 

Naturally, Francis - being the irritating twit that he was – had positioned himself awkwardly in front of the kettle, the only thing Arthur needed to use in the entire breakroom. Francis never attempted to move out his way, watching in amusement as Arthur struggled around him. He barely even flinched when Arthur ‘accidentally’ elbowed him on the back of the head as he pulled out two reusable cups in monotone colours and set them on the counter.

“Are you planning to move at all?” Arthur huffed, a scowl forming on his face as he flicked the kettle to boil. Francis merely smirked at him from behind his coffee cup and took a loud slurp of his drink. Arthur felt his left eye twitch. Although he knew Francis was simply playing and meant no harm, the Frenchman knew full well what tiny little things made Arthur’s teeth grind. Knowing that Francis had no intentions of moving, Arthur worked around him, reaching across the counter for a tea bag and placing it in one of the cups along with two spoonsful of sugar. In the other, Arthur poured the perfect amount of coffee granules.

“You’re the talk of the office this morning you know.”

“Why? What have I done this time?” Arthur asked, squeezing himself into the tiny gap Francis had left for him where the corners of the countertops met. He mirrored Francis’ stance, his back leaning against the counter and his arms folded against his chest as the kettle whistled away behind him. They were unnecessarily close, their arms pressed against each other, but neither made the motion to shuffle up and make more space. If Francis wanted to play this game, then Arthur was happy to oblige. Besides, in a battle such as this both knew Arthur was the most stubborn and wouldn’t back down. Arthur knew that eventually Francis would lose interest. Luckily, being this close didn’t bring much discomfort. Arthur had known Francis since they were teenagers. They had grown up together and as a much as they enjoyed winding each other up, Arthur knew it was merely playful banter and that Francis genuinely cared about him.

“There is a rather juicy rumour floating around.”

“How lovely.”

“Even I am starting to wonder if it’s true and you know I’m not one for rumours.”

Arthur snorted a laugh, turning to make his drinks as soon as the kettle had come to boil. Arthur didn’t believe Francis for a single second. Francis was the biggest gossiper in the entire office. The only reason Arthur knew half the employees in the building was because of Francis and his inability to stay quiet. He thrived off the tales, bouncing from one person to another until he had heard all sides of story. Only then, when he had figured out the facts, did he pester Arthur with the information. Sometimes Arthur wondered if he was in the wrong career. Surely someone with such skills would make an impressive investigator.

“Of course not. Are you going to tell me this rumour or am I going to find out from Linda when she comes to clean up this evening?”

“Oh, I’ll tell you. I’m just not sure you’re going to like what you hear with this one.”

That made Arthur’s curiosity tingle. A rumour about him that he wouldn’t like? How interesting. Arthur had been the subject of many rumours during his time in the office, all of which were utterly ridiculous and contained no ounce of truth to them. The previous rumour that had involved Arthur claimed he were a vampire enslaved by his boss to carry out his orders. It was so absurd that he and Francis had cried laughing for hours to a point where Arthur was concerned that he would have to ring an ambulance.

However, this time, Francis appeared cautious. Had he already figured out the facts and concluded that Arthur would react negatively to such rumours floating around? It made Arthur’s thoughts race, sifting through his previous schedule for something out of the ordinary for such rumours to spark. Had he acted differently whilst on shift? Had someone caught him talking to himself? Surely not. Arthur’s one-way conversations were always contained to the privacy of his office or an empty elevator. The most that Arthur ever did whilst at work was go up and down in elevators for coffee breaks, answer the constantly ringing phone, book appointments and sift through thousands upon thousands of emails.

“I’m listening,” Arthur said as he finished making the drinks. Once again, he worked around Francis, returning everything to their rightful positions and throwing the spoon he had used into the sink to wash later. Once the coffee cup lids had been clicked into place, Arthur carefully gathered them into his hands. They were pleasantly warm, the reusable cups doing their job at holding in the heat so Arthur could carry them without fear of burning himself.

“Well,” Francis started as they left the break room together. “Gilbert told me, that Erzsébet told him, that she heard from Emma, that Michelle saw you down at that Italian place with the big boss last night.”

Arthur almost spat out the sip of tea he had taken. He spluttered as he struggled to swallow the hot liquid, glaring at Francis as he harshly pounded his back. When Arthur finally felt like he could breathe again, he jabbed an elbow into Francis’ side to stop him from hitting him again. He was cautiously aware of the way the boiling drinks his hands were sloshing around in their cups, waiting for the opportune moment to spill all over him.

Arthur out on a date? With their boss of all people? How ludicrous.  Arthur desperately tried to prevent the heat rising to his cheeks, taking a steadying breath in an attempt to slow his quickening heart rate.

“How utterly ridiculous.”

“Were you?”

“Are you honestly asking me that?”

“You know as well as I that Michelle isn’t usually the type to start rumours.”

“Perhaps she’s turned over a new leaf.”

“You’re avoiding the question.”

Francis gave him a stern look that told Arthur he wouldn’t rest until his questions were answered. Looking down the hall ahead, Arthur saw the elevator and immediately his strides grew faster.

“Francis, I’m Alfred’s personal assistant. I am paid to follow him around, schedule his day and generally do as he asks. The only way I would voluntarily spend time with him outside of business hours were if the bloke were to pay me a hefty sum of money,” He explained, watching as Francis kindly pressed the elevator button for him.

“I had to ask!” Francis grinned, holding up the single hand that wasn’t holding his cup in innocence. The gentle ping of the elevator arriving on their floor sounded like music to Arthur’s ears, the doors opening slowly and revealing it to be empty. Arthur felt like he had been blessed. Drinks in hand, Arthur backed into the elevator and quirked a suspicious eyebrow at Francis who remained where he was.

“Of course you did. Oh, tell Gilbert, Erzsébet, Emma and Michelle to stop gossiping and get on with their work. Alfred doesn’t pay them to sit around and spread rumours about his assistant.”

“But gossiping is so fun!” Francis pouted, blue eyes watching as Arthur jabbed a finger into the elevator panel, signalling his exit. “It makes my day go faster. Plus, I’m not sure I believe you anyway. Your cheeks are red and you have your liar face on.”

“Goodbye Francis,” Arthur smirked, holding up one of the cups in a gesture of farewell as the doors began to close. He could see the way Francis narrowed his eyes at him, uncertain of the truth within the rumour.

As soon as the doors clinked closed and the elevator began to rise, Arthur let out a long sigh. What a morning it had been so far. The elevator took him up several floors uninterrupted. Arthur was thankful for the peace and quiet. When it arrived on the correct floor, the familiar ping sounded, and the doors opened slowly this time onto an extremely quiet floor of the building.

Arthur stepped out and made his way down the hallway ahead. Looking down at the carpet, he was surprised he hadn’t worn it out by the number of times he passed this way. He felt as if this route around the office was programmed into his brain.

Ever aware of the increasing warmth in his hands, Arthur passed by the door with his name etched into the silver plague and continued down the hall. At the very end stood a smart looking door, a golden plague shimmering on its front with the words ‘Alfred F Jones, CEO’ engraved into it.

Polite as ever, he stopped outside and tapped on the door with his elbow. When a quiet ‘come in’ came from inside, Arthur once again relied on his elbow to press down on the handle and open the door. It swung inwards into a large spacious room. The first thing that Arthur noticed was the view, one of the walls on the right made completely of floor to ceiling glass overlooking the bustling city below. On a clear day like today, it was easy to see off into the distance and spot the towering mountains littering the skyline.

“You took your time,” said a voice. Arthur rolled his eyes and closed the door with his foot, heading in the direction of the desk on the left of the room, situated opposite the breath-taking view.

The desk was long and neatly organised with all the essentials one would need to run a business smoothly. A fancy computer screen was angled on the desk as to not block the view and a neatly stapled booklet of paper that had once lay prominent on the desk was being shuffled into a brown file out of sight from wondering eyes. In front of the desk were two comfortable looking chairs, angled perfectly to face its centre and readily awaiting use when the next private meeting came around.

“I was harassed by a certain Frenchman,” Arthur replied, weaving around the chair, and handing one of the cups across the desk to its eagerly awaiting owner.

Alfred was slouched in the comforts of his desk chair. The collar of his dress shirt had been unbuttoned, his tied slackened to lay lazily against his chest and the jacket of his suit hung smartly across the back of his chair. He smiled as he leant forward and took the cup from Arthur, beautiful blue eyes seeming to sparkle at him from behind the silver frame of his glasses.

“Thanks,” he said before taking a long, clearly needed, gulp of his coffee. He hummed at the taste; eyeing Arthur as he set the cup onto a designated coaster. Arthur copied his movements, taking a quick drink of his still boiling hot tea before placing the cup on the other unoccupied coast beside Alfred’s. “What did he want?”

“To inform me of another delightful rumour.”

“Let me guess, you’re secretly a spy trying to infiltrate my company?” Alfred grinned, relaxing back into his chair with his hands resting behind his head. Arthur’s green eyes followed the way his shirt pulled taught, begging to be untucked from his waistband.

“Oh, I’m most definitely a spy,” Arthur smirked playfully, walking around the desk.

“I knew it!” Alfred laughed, pushing his chair back away from the desk and opening his arms in Arthur’s direction. The Brit took the invitation with no hesitation, walking straight to Alfred and perching comfortably in his lap. The CEO hoisted Arthur up, throwing his legs over the arms of the chair on one side. With one arm comfortably secured around Arthur’s back and the other settled across his waist, Alfred’s hands clasped together to engulf Arthur in his warm embrace.

“Apparently I was spotted down at Vargas’ place on a date with the big boss last night.”

“Oh, really?”

“Uh-hm.”

“And what did you say?” Alfred mumbled as he pressed his nose into the crook of Arthur’s neck. Arthur’s eyes instinctually fluttered closed as he felt Alfred’s lips caress his skin, trailing sweet kisses from the crook of his neck to the base of his ear.

“I said that the boss would have to pay me quite the sum of money if he wanted me to spend time with him outside of work.”

“How much we talking?”

Arthur turned his head to face Alfred when he pulled away. Their faces were mere inches apart, Alfred’s breath dancing across his skin. Alfred had his eyebrow quirked as if genuinely curious.

“Thousands, perhaps even millions.”

“Ah, well, I’ll gladly pay you millions in kisses,” Alfred whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to Arthur’s lips. Arthur found his arms reaching up to entangle themselves around Alfred’s neck, pulling him closer when the other tried to pull away. Arthur grumbled an incoherent grunt that sounded somewhere along the lines of ‘not yet’ before dragging Alfred back in for another, much longer kiss. Alfred’s arms held him tight, his hand coming to rest on Arthur’s hip and rub tingling circles through the fabric of his clothes.

“This is why you’re the centre of all these rumours,” Alfred whispered between kisses until Arthur was satisfied and pulled back.

“Shut up,” He huffed, turning his head so Alfred was left once again kissing the side of his head. “It’s not my fault. You’re just as clinging – if not more so when we are at work!”

“Hey, I’m the boss I can do what I like.”

“I know, that’s why you’re never the one covering off these bloody rumours.”  

“Who started it?”

“Michelle apparently, although I’m not sure I believe that,” Arthur explained, looking over to the windows and admiring the view. Would Michelle really waste her time ensuring a rumour about him made its way around the office?

“Why not? She looks like the gossiping type.”

“I’m pretty sure Francis is onto us. In fact, I don’t believe there is a rumour at all. I think Francis just needed an excuse to ask me himself without doing so directly.”

Alfred laughed at that, nuzzling his nose affectionately against Arthur’s hair until he turned back around.

“Sounds like a Francis thing to do. To be honest, I did think I saw him last night.”

“What?!” Arthur’s eyebrows immediately fell into a default scowl, searching Alfred’s eyes for signs that he was lying. If Francis really had been there at the Vargas restaurant, then he knew for certain that everything Arthur had told him downstairs was a lie. Was he waiting for Arthur to come clean and tell him the truth personally?

“Hey, it was for a brief second! I just saw a flash of blond hair from behind a plant – it could have been anyone! Wait - where are you going?”

Before Alfred could even finish his sentence, Arthur was out the door. It took him a record amount of time to bypass the elevator, race down the stairs and hunt down Francis. Arthur had known him for long enough. He knew his games – he knew their games. On many occasions in their youth Arthur had been the one undercover, hiding behind the plant and spying on Francis to ensure his date was going well.

Sure enough, Francis was in his office. He was sat casually at his desk, a light glow cast across his features from the computer screen in front of him. Sat prominently on his desk was the same obnoxious cup from earlier. He seemed startled by Arthur’s sudden intrusion, locking his computer quickly.

Arthur said nothing, watching Francis squirm under his gaze as the office door clicked locked behind him.

“YOU SNEAKY, RUMOUR STARTING, NOSY TWAT!”

#Hetalia #APH #usuk #Fanfiction #APH Fanfiction #My Writing #APH America #APH England #APH France #Alfred F Jones #Arthur Kirkland #I hope yall enjoy reading it #am i nervous about this yes yes i am

[carnelianns]

Hi! If requests are open, can I get how the IkeVamp Boys (Napoleon, Arthur, Leonardo, Comte, and Theo if I have to choose) would react to their s/o being a mercenary and/or assassin in her time? Thanks.

Napoleon Bonaparte

He can't help but to be wary. Threats against his life were not rare — he can count on more than a single hand how many failed assassinations there were. 

In fact, although he was the first to help you when you entered the mansion, he couldn’t help but feel a bit.. off whenever he’s around you.

But that doesn’t hinder him from interacting with you — after all, everyone has their own secrets, and, well, he was the former emperor of France, so.

And when you finally do tell him your previous occupation, all he can do is let out a tiny, “Oh.”

He’s shaken — hopefully not visibly, but you’re far too perceptive to not notice — and it takes quite a bit of silence for him to straighten up once more. 

It’s how you bite your lip, the way you fidget ever-so slightly with your hands, the shadow overthrowing your face that gets him to smile softly in a way that you always do, tilting your head up to meet his gaze.

“Nunuche. There’s no point living in the past.” A faraway look enters his eyes for a split second before cerulean meets your eyes once more. 

“What do you say we learn together? How to live in the present, I mean.”

And surprisingly, the two of you grew even closer after the secret was out. 

You partake in a little game wherein the both of you try to “assassinate” one another by lightly hitting each other at a certain spot. Napoleon is terribly good at dodging your sneak attacks at the last second. 

This is also an explanation for those moments you end up being cuddled by a groggy Napoleon, not intent on letting you go as punishment for trying to assassinate him in the morning. 

“Can I please get up? Sebastian’s going to kill me.” 

He huffs, but there’s a small smile on his face as he buries his head into your hair. “Maybe you should think twice before trying to kill me in my sleep then.”

Leonardo da Vinci

All this man really wants to do is to make you smile, so when you enter the mansion practically exuding melancholy, he’s, well, determined. 

The way he’s somehow always in your vicinity is uncanny, though you don’t really mind. 

Leonardo is actually very comforting once you get to know him and his tendencies, so it’s no surprise when you end up leaning on him and confiding in him. 

He’s silent for a long while, shock encompassing his features, before he clears his throat, shooting you a roguish smile.

“For someone as bright as yourself, I wasn’t really expecting that to be your job, cara mia.”

He doesn’t really mind after. As long as you aren’t, well, assassinating people now, there’s no point in fussing over it. 

He entertains your curious ramblings, and even goes out with you to buy, uh, assets. Leonardo always busies himself with god knows what as you look at different types of knives.

You do catch him staring at times. And when he notices your questioning gaze, he simply smiles, all sorts of soft and gentle. 

It’s unfair, how breathtaking Leonardo da Vinci actually is.

“It must be hard to let go of something as dark as what you once were, but I’m glad I get to see the smile on your face much more now.”

Arthur Conan Doyle

It’s common knowledge that Arthur is awfully perceptive, be it from his career as a writer, or as a doctor, or both. 

He picked up on your little habits, how your footsteps are barely audible, the way you tense ever-so slightly when people get too near. 

And how it looks as if you have a horrid burden weighing on your shoulders, no matter how hard you try to hide it. 

Of course, he doesn’t push on it. He never does. Just stays the same old Arthur, the rotten flirt and the man you find yourself laughing with in a lot of situations. 

Surprisingly for him, he was the first person you told about your past job. And honestly? It’s not just rainbows and sunshines. 

As kindly as possible in an attempt to not hurt your feelings, Arthur excuses himself from the room and from you, not even talking to you until a few days after the conversation. 

“I know it was horrible of me to leave for days, and I apologise once more. But I’ve been thinking, and,” he meets your gaze, slightly faltering at your bitten lip and the nervousness radiating off your form. “Are you okay?”

… What. Your confused gaze warrants a bitten lip from him this time, Arthur messing with his hair.

“Although your previous job was, well, immoral, it must have been hard, mustn't it?” And kneeling in front of your seat on your bed, you meet his smile — a genuine one. 

“I’m here for you, love. You can tell me anything, yeah?”

And so it was that you opened up to Arthur Conan Doyle that night, who happily held you in his arms, not once leaving or letting go. It’s a common occurrence now. 

“The little bird slept like a baby in my arms last night, really.” You hear his teasing voice waft out from the living room the next day.

He has no time to think before you sprint out of the kitchen with a kitchen knife in hand. Theo only smiles in delight as he hears the yells of his previous chatmate, sipping his coffee in peace. 

Theodorus van Gogh

Someway somehow, you managed to befriend the snarky Dutchman. 

Befriend as in he doesn’t mind your presence nor does he mind teasing you until you practically explode. 

And from a man filled with secrets to another, Theo is very much aware that you have something to hide. When you do tell him what that is, he’s silent. 

Much like Arthur, he has to take a few days off and away from you to clear his thoughts. Not to the point of leaving the room whenever you enter, but he certainly doesn’t engage in conversations with you unless necessary. 

“Hondje.” You perk up at the familiar voice filling your ears, turning your head to meet the man. “You’re.. You’ve changed, right? So let’s.. let’s start talking again…”

He definitely struggled. “Did Vincent tell you to say that?”

“Of course he did,” he scoffs, then averts his gaze, ears tinged the slight shade of pink. “But I do mean what I said…”

Chaos ensues when the two of you are finally seen together again. The residents don’t mind — it’s awfully entertaining when they see Theo getting put in his place.

“Theo’s being lectured again! Living room, now!” Arthur hollers through the halls like it’s a long awaited event, and soon enough, about half the vampires are in the room.

“Your threats don’t work on me anymore, knabbeltje.” “Oh? Then perhaps I have to turn the threat into reality now, don’t I?”

Arthur, Vincent, Leonardo, and Napoleon share a laugh at Theo’s silence. Poor guy, really.

Comte de Saint-Germain

Comte has a little habit of observing you, seeing if you’re alright and whatnot, so when he sees your distrusting countenance, he’s quick to think of what may be bothering you. 

He’s asking you if you need anything, if you want anything, if you wish to tell him anything. And, of course, telling you “Should you need someone to confide in, I am always here.”

And so you do. You spill your secret, and the surprised look on his face is instantly wiped off with a gentle smile, his comforting voice filling your ears.

“I’ve witnessed a lot of things in this life of mine, ma chérie, and though I do admit that’s surprising, do not fret; I’m not the type of person keen on abandoning others.”

He’s far too understanding for his own good. It warms your heart.

Honestly, he quite enjoys how carefree you’ve become after you spilled your secret — the image of you happily sparring with an equally enthusiastic Jean and Napoleon is something he thinks back on constantly. 

“... I may have to think about your request.” He falters at your pout, hoping you didn’t pick it up.

“But you said you’d grant any wish of mine.” 

“Indeed I did, ma chérie, but guns and knives are different.”

His pointed look only causes your pout to deepen. It’ll take a lot more begging for the man to grant your wishes.

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikemen vampire x reader #ikevamp x reader #napoleon bonaparte #leonardo da vinci #arthur conan doyle #theodorus van gogh #theo #comte de saint germain #comte #headcanons

[kaeyas-beloved]

Prompt: A party at a stranger’s house. A night of barhopping led here and the world had started tilting on its own hours ago. There is a constant tickle on the back of their neck. Their heart beats speed up.

Fandom: Ikemen Vampire // Modern!AU

Pairing/Characters: Isaac Newton x Reader // Mentions of some of the other guys

Summary: Isaac has a moment with his crush and at an all Hallows Eve dorm party of all places.

Warning(s): Couple swear words, alcohol

~

The walls thrummed with the pounding music that played from surrounding stereos, the vibrations against her back strangely comforting. The lights that swirled around the party room mixed and blurred and the world looked and felt like it was tilted to the right. People passed by her, most in pairs or groups of their friends, along with the odd loner, those by themselves and looking for a means of entertainment. 

A little like her.

The night started out mundane, like many previous nights before. She’d leave to return back to her dorm room, work on any class assignments but ultimately receive a text from either Theo, Arthur or both, begging for her to come out for a drink out in the city. She’d refuse but ultimately get roped in, the promise of drinks being on them too much to pass up.

Late in the night, somewhere between shots, endless rants about life and work, plus the boisterous laughs and the three somehow stumbled their way into a nearby party. The usual bar they frequented wasn’t too far from the residential area, so it wasn’t really that difficult to get where they were now. Still, it was a little surprising to be in one loud place and then another of equal volume.

Taking a breath in the smell of humidity and booze filled her nostrils, but maybe that was just her she was smelling. A cold trickle of sweat ran down her neck, the coolness a stark contrast to the heat her skin gave off.

Amongst the mass of bodies she could barely make out her flirt of a friend, Arthur, over on the other side of the room, two women sliding up on either side of him. A ways away from him stood Theo, who also had a girl hanging off his arm, only he didn’t seem to enjoy the attention unlike the recently turned English major student. 

The music might have drowned it out, but (Y/N) couldn’t help but scoff at the familiar happenings. 

(E/C) eyes wandered around listlessly, searching for something that would spark her interest. The drinks table came into view, the thought of alcohol reminding her of the already present headache from all the other drinks she had earlier. 

‘What the hell... why not. I’m already in deep’ 

The trek to the refreshments was a perilous one, (Y/N) having nearly fallen more times than she’d like to admit and she found herself sighing in relief when she finally made it. Filling the cliché red cup (- you’ve seen the movies) of whatever punch caught her attention, she took a hefty sip as her eyes roamed the room some more. That’s when they landed on him. 

A sense of excitement spiked through her as she grabbed and filled yet another cup, striding over to a spot where the lights don’t quite reach and to someone leaning quietly against the wall. He was staring off into the crowd so he didn’t see her walk up, leading him to nearly jump out of his skin when she spoke up.

“Isaac right? From physics?” she asked, and the question as well caught him off guard, eyes wide as he looked behind him then back at her. 

“Are you talking to me?” 

“Who else?” she giggled, passing him the untouched cup she’s been holding. Reluctantly he took it, their fingers brushing and he could feel the heat rise to his cheeks. Had it not been for the raging lights perhaps she would have seen him in his flustered state, an event that would end in large scale embarrassment for him.

Isaac knew exactly who the woman that approached him was. She shared only one class with him and sat one seat to the right and two forward, close enough for him to hear her but too far to talk to. He’s watched, in a non-creepy way, how she asks for the more complicated material that’s available and has witnessed how she talks with such passion for science. Out of everyone in that seemingly large, boring lecture hall they shared, she was the only one that matched his love for the subject, maybe even understood it as well as he. 

And in turn the smallest of crushes formed. Rather childish he told himself, but he couldn’t deny wanting to get to know her more, to talk day in and out about anything and everything under the sun regarding their shared subject. 

“You know, I didn’t peg you as the kind to come to parties like these” she stated, leaning against the wall next to him while taking another sip of punch, and Isaac found himself doing the same despite not even remotely liking the stuff.

“My friend dragged me here...” 

“What a coincidence, so did mine”

“So why aren’t you with them?”

“They buggered off the first chance they could. Yet I’m still watching out for them, if I don’t it’ll turn out like last time!'' She laughed, remembering the time that Arthur was left on the curb by a group of women, a shell shocked look accompanied by a scarlet red handprint on his face. Then there was Theo who was so drunk he was on the verge of tears just by his older brother lightly scolding him for drinking so much, a sight she shall remember for the rest of her life.

“So why did you choose to come over to me, you could have done literally anything else yet you chose to see me?” he asked before thinking, briefly wishing to slam his head against the wall. Use your head, she was left alone, she wanted company! But he refrained from acting out the rash action, especially after her response.

“Well, if I’m being honest you looked a little lonely and I... wanted to talk to you...” it was the alcohol talking, she knew that, yet she kept going. Sliding a little closer to him she stares right into his cherry blossom coloured eyes, the lights reflecting off the coloured orbs beautifully. 

“But why? Why me, I’m not that special-” he began again, eyes cast down to his shoes.

“But you are!” she cut him off, “I’ve heard you talk in the halls and while your friends might not understand what you were saying I could. Hell, I’ve seen your notebook, and I think there are things you should bring to the table for people to see! Some of them are genuinely extraordinary!”   

“H-how did you see my notebook?!” he gasped.

“You left it open one day after class and I happened to be passing your seat when I saw it.”

“W-well, that still doesn't change the fact you’re just saying all that because you feel sorry for me!”

“No...” she shook her head, voice barely audible above the blaring music and she leaned in closer, close enough that Isaac could feel the heat radiating off her. 

For her that chill on her back made itself known once more, though it was always there to begin with and the air from passing strangers left a light breeze to pass over any exposed skin, a rush of heat happened through her entire body at the same time. What her drunken self was about to do was exhilarating, something that her sober self could only dream to do.

And as their heart beats picked up in speed, she ushered the words in a sweet, quiet voice, words that would set off a chain of events.

“I said all that because... I like you...smart, kind, cute” she smiled, all the moments these traits came through with him rushing through her mind.

Before Isaac could say anything a warmth emitted from his lips and it took a moment for him to realize that she was kissing him.

Not entirely sure where to put his hands, they hesitantly found a place to rest on her waist as he kissed her back, body pushed against the wall. Had the support not been there he may have fallen from an overload of emotion. 

“(Y/N) where are you- ohoho! Now what do we have here~” the teasing voice of Arthur had her pulling away quicker than either would have liked.

“You have the worst timing ever Arthur you know that?” she glared at him, annoyed that he ruined the moment, yet it was something he paid no mind to as a devilish smirk spread across his face.

“No, I believe I have great timing if I'm able to see this kind of show!” he jested.

“What do you want?” she asked and Arthur composed himself somewhat.

“Theo and I are leaving and he told me to come fetch you else he abandons you here” turning he added something about how she should follow along quickly or that threat will become a reality. Before she left though, there was one thing she had to do.

“Do you want to try this? Us I mean?” Isaac gulped at the question, never in a million years thinking he’d get here of all places. But the rate his heart was racing and the quiver of his body had reminded him that, yes, this is real.

“Sure, can we talk tomorrow then?”

“Tomorrow” she nodded, turning and walking away with such ease you’d never know that she had lots to drink that night, or that internally she was screaming at having just proposed a date to the boy she’s liked since the first week of school.

The tingle on each of their lips lasted the whole night, just thinking of the act they shared had a rush of hot and cold shooting through them. 

It seems that weird, unpredictable and mysterious things really do happen on the night of all Hallows Eve.

#I'm pretty sure I butchered the prompt - sorry #gtpatcreatober #creatober2020 #ikemen vampire #ikemen vampire isaac #ikevam isaac #ikevam x reader #ikevamp isaac #ikemen isaac #isaac x reader #isaac newton x reader #ikevamp isaac x reader #ikevam isaac x reader #ikemen vampire isaac x reader

[darlingandmreames]

All the Freedom in the World

(also on ao3)

“Do you ever think about getting married?”

Arthur laughed, the question surprising him. “Me? No. Not really my thing.”

“I used to think the same thing.” Mal grinned at him over her drink. She usually loved gin and tonics, but tonight it was just tonic. Had been for a couple weeks now, and Arthur was starting to wonder. “Told myself I was never going to let myself get tied down like that. I was never going to marry, never going to have kids, never going to have one of those white picket fence houses I’d always hated growing up.”

Arthur nodded in agreement. Sounded like a perfectly good plan to him. “So what changed?”

Mal shrugged. “I met someone.” She looked out across the room to where Dom was chatting up a group of military officers. He excelled at dinners like these, dialing up the charm to a nearly unbearable degree and getting everybody in the room to like him. Mal leaned her elbow against the table and rested her head in her hand, watching Dom with a fond look. “Sometimes you meet someone so wonderful that the thought of not having them in your life just feels wrong. All of those plans I’d come up with for my life, the things I was going to do and see and experience all on my own, changed after I met Dom. I still wanted to do them, of course, that didn’t change. But the thought of doing them alone, doing them by myself, lost its appeal. I wanted to do them, but I wanted to do them with him. It didn’t feel like being tied down anymore, not if it was with him.” She looked back at Arthur with a small smile. “Maybe it won’t change for you, who knows. But don’t discount the fact that it might.”

“Hm. I’ll make sure to keep that in mind.” Arthur took a drink. What Mal was describing certainly sounded nice and he could see how much she loved Dom. How much they both loved each other. The idea of finding that level of happiness in another person, though, didn’t strike him as something he was likely to find. And despite her reassurances to the contrary, it still sounded to Arthur a hell of a lot like being tied down and he couldn’t think of anything worse. What they did allowed for so much more freedom than Arthur had ever dreamed of, and the idea of giving that up- giving it up for one person- sounded both unpleasant and incredibly stupid. “Still don’t see it happening, though. Not for me, at least.”

“Maybe.” Mal leaned back in her chair, going back to watching Dom. “You never know. Sometimes things change, even when you don't expect them to.”

XXX

“D’you ever think about getting married?”

Arthur could hear the alcohol in Dom’s voice. He was speaking slowly and slurring his words, vowels and consonants blurring into each other with little differentiation. Arthur wasn’t sure how long he’d been here at the bar before Arthur’d found him, but he was starting to think it had been quite a while. “Never really something I thought about much. Didn’t have much reason to.”

Dom nodded, picking his glass up and downing half of it in one go. “I knew I’d marry Mal. Knew as soon as I met her. She was-” he paused, hiccupping slightly, “she was perfect, you know? Happiest day of my life was when she said she’d marry me. Told her I’d dreamt…dreamt we’d…that we’d grow old together and…”

Arthur rested his hand gently on Dom’s arm, recognizing the waver in his voice. He’d rushed to the states as soon as he’d heard what happened, abandoning the job he’d been working on, and when Dom had fled the country, Arthur had followed him. They’d been country hopping for a few weeks now, trying to stay out of reach of the authorities. Arthur had taken it upon himself to take care of the logistics, figuring out where they could go and how long they could stay in a place before they needed to leave. Dom had more than enough to occupy his mind without having to think about any of that.

Dom finished off the rest of his drink with a grimace. “How could…how could she do this, Arthur? How could she do this to me? To our children? I don’t…” He dropped his head, voice breaking slightly. “I miss her, god I miss her so fucking much.”

“I’m sorry, Dom.” There wasn’t any comfort in the words, not really, but Arthur didn’t know what else to say. He’d seen grief before, but never like this. The pain in Dom’s voice, in his expression and posture and actions, was almost frightening. Horrifying. Mal’s death had hit Arthur too; she’d been one of his closest friends, more family than anything else, and losing her left a gaping hole in his chest that he wasn’t sure how to fill. But it was different for Dom. He’d lost his world when Mal had jumped, lost a part of himself that Arthur knew he would never be able to replace. It frightened him, honestly, to see that pain. It was something he couldn’t quite understand and he hoped to god that he never did. Love like what Dom and Mal had had wasn’t worth it if it came at this cost. He kept his hand on Dom’s arm, trying to provide whatever little comfort he could as Dom’s shoulders shook. “I’m so, so sorry.”

XXX

“You ever think about getting married?”

“No.” Arthur didn’t even bother looking up as he answered Ariadne’s question. 

“You didn’t give that much thought.”

Arthur shrugged, still focusing on the documents in front of him. This mark had extractor training- Arthur was near obsessive about checking and double checking for that ever since the Fischer job, and it had paid off this time- and there was quite a bit of information for him to go through. “I don’t have to. It’s not something I’m interested in. Never have been.”

“Can I ask why?”

Arthur paused briefly before looking up. “Are you actually curious, or are you just trying to avoid doing work for a bit?”

Ariadne laughed a bit sheepishly. “Both?”

Arthur stared at her a moment longer before sighing slightly. She’d been working diligently for several hours, so he supposed a small break wasn’t the worst idea. “It’s just never been something I saw myself doing. And it’s certainly not common among extractors. This field doesn’t exactly lend itself to long term relationships. Or to healthy ones.” He shrugged again. “Working as an extractor means constantly moving. City to city, country to country, job to job. You don’t get attached. You don’t have the time to and, even if you did, attachments are dangerous. They make you vulnerable and weak. So most people in this area avoid them.”

Ariadne raised her eyebrows. “That’s a pretty cynical view of things.”

“It’s a realistic view of things.”

“Maybe.” She leaned back in her chair. “Still, wouldn’t it be nice? To find someone you could share this with? I mean, maybe I’m just still new to this and naive, but that sounds a lot better than spending your life alone.”

Arthur was about to answer- to tell her that that alone, in his opinion, was the best thing someone could be in this field- when Eames wandered into the room. It was far warmer here in Manila than it had been on their last job and Eames was thriving, wearing a different short sleeve paisley shirt every day, each more hideously garish than the last. Arthur’d been surprised when he’d agreed to keep working with them as Arthur’d looked for jobs where he could continue teaching Ariadne the ropes and get her acquainted with the field more broadly, but Eames had agreed with nothing more than a smile and a casual of course, darling. At the end of each job Arthur kept expecting him to finally jump ship but, six months and five jobs in, he seemed perfectly content at least for now to continue following them. And as much as they bickered and disagreed at times, Arthur couldn’t help but admit that it was a bit nice having a familiar face on each job. Someone he trusted. 

Eames noticed Arthur watching him and winked. Arthur looked down, frowning, and tried to ignore the slight heat in his cheeks. “Alone is what this job requires. Anything else is unrealistic.” He started to go back to sorting through the documents but paused, considering Ariadne’s question again. “Though I suppose it might be nice,” he finally admitted. “Unrealistic, but nice all the same.”

XXX

"You ever think 'bout getting married, mate?"

Arthur looked over at Yusuf with a slight frown, his eyes taking a second to focus. He'd just finished a job in Nairobi and decided to stop by Mombasa to visit before heading off to Milan for his next job. Yusuf had been his usual excitable self and was happy to see him, offering to make them both drinks. Arthur had agreed- which was a terrible idea, he should’ve known better than to let the chemist make drinks- and now they were both sprawled out on Yusuf's couch, piss drunk. Arthur knew he'd regret this in the morning, but his inevitable hangover was a problem for future him. "Bit of a random question."

Yusuf shrugged. "One of my childhood mates got married a few weeks back and it got me thinking, that's all. Not really a common thing in our field, is it? Well, 'cept for Cobb and Mal I suppose, but that, uh," he frowned, "that's maybe not the best example."

"Mm." Arthur hummed in agreement, taking a drink. "Really isn't."

"You ever think about it though?" Yusuf looked over at him. "'Bout getting hitched? You know, if you met the right person or whatever."

Arthur paused, trying to focus on the question. After a moment he shrugged; giving it serious thought wasn't something he was particularly capable of at the moment. "Dunno. Maybe. If it was the right person."

"Yeah I guess it would really depend on-oh! That reminds me!" Yusuf sat up excitedly, swaying slightly as he leaned forward, grinning. "I heard a bit of a rumour."

Arthur raised his eyebrows, staying where he was. The room was spinning already, he didn't need to make it worse by moving. "Oh?"

"Mm. 'Bout you and a certain forger." If Arthur had been more sober, he would've thought up some excuse, some way to talk around the subject, or maybe even simply have denied it outright. But he was very, very much not sober. So instead he just grinned at Yusuf over his glass. Yusuf pointed at him with a disbelieving and somewhat exasperated look. "I knew it! I fuckin' knew it!" He flopped back against the couch cushions, swearing as he spilled some of his drink on himself. "Knew you two had a thing for each other!"

"Fuck off, you worked one job with us."

"Yeah, and you two spent the entire time flirting."

"We were not flirting. I don't think." Arthur frowned, thinking back. Had they been flirting? "Okay, maybe we were a little."

"You were definitely flirting, mate," Yusuf laughed. "So you guys are, uh…?"

"Yeah, couple months now." Arthur gave another small shrug. "It's nice, you know? Having something more than a fling or a one night stand. I like it. Like him." He smiled, mind drifting to when he'd see Eames next. He was working the Milan job as well; neither one of them had outright said it, but he knew they'd both agreed to take the job mainly so they could see each other. It was a small thing, but something about it made him happy every time he thought about it. After a moment his mind caught up with what his mouth had said and he pointed at Yusuf, giving him the most serious look he could muster. "This stays between us."

Yusuf held his hands up in mock surrender. "Not a word." He watched Arthur with a small smile. "I'm happy for you, though, mate. Really. You guys are insufferable together, but in a…in a sweet way, ya know?"

"Fuck off." Arthur took another drink, trying to hide both his grin and the rising heat in his cheeks. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

XXX

“Do you ever think about getting married?”

Arthur accepted the cup of coffee from Miles gratefully. He and Eames had only gotten in the night before and the jet lag was starting to catch up to him. He took a small sip, ignoring the fact that it was still far too hot to drink. Even a tiny bit of caffeine was worth a burnt tongue. “Sometimes.” He shrugged. “It’s complicated though. It’s not legal for us in a lot of places. Hell, even here in the states it’s a crapshoot half the time.”

Miles sat down across from him at the table with a mug of his own, raising his eyebrows. “Legality has never seemed to be much of an issue for you in the past.”

“Fair enough,” Arthur laughed. “This is…this is different though, you know? If we were going to do it, I’d want to do it right.” He shrugged. “There’s a lot that would have to go into it, and honestly, I’m not sure it’d be worth it. Might just end up being more effort than a simple piece of paper is worth.”

“It’s not just a piece of paper.” Miles watched him over his coffee. “That may be all it is physically, but there’s more to it than that.”

“I guess so.” Arthur’s gaze drifted to the dining room. Eames was seated at the table there with Philippa as she drew. She’d given him a sheet of paper and coloured pencils of his own and he was sketching something, pausing every once in a while to look over at what Philippa was drawing with a wide smile and encouraging comment. It was a sweet sight; both James and Philippa had taken to Eames immediately the first time he and Arthur had visited Dom,  and he’d quickly become known as Uncle Eames. He was good with them, kind and patient and just enough of a troublemaker to cement himself as their favourite uncle. Eames looked up, catching Arthur’s eye and giving him a soft smile. It was the sort of smile he seemed to reserve solely for Arthur, with a gentle fondness that wasn’t in any of his others. The look sent warmth spreading in Arthur’s chest like it always did and he smiled back. “Maybe it would be worth it. I don’t know.”

“Hm.” Miles had fixed him with a knowing look by the time Arthur looked back over and Arthur took another sip of too hot coffee, feeling slightly embarrassed. “I suppose you’ll just have to keep thinking about it.”

“Yeah.” Arthur looked back at Eames. “I suppose I will.”

XXX

“Do you ever think about getting married?”

The question broke the quiet pre-dawn silence around them. Arthur wasn’t quite sure what- if anything- had prompted him to ask it. The topic had certainly been on his mind recently- increasingly so, actually- but he hadn't quite intended to ask it. At least not right now. He didn’t feel any panic or surprise as his brain caught up to the words, though. Maybe he should’ve, but he didn’t. Instead he simply nestled further against Eames’ side, seeking out a bit more warmth. They were both wrapped in several thick blankets to stave off the early morning cold and the cup of coffee in his hands helped somewhat too, but neither of those things could quite compare to the feeling of Eames’ body heat.

Eames paused briefly before chuckling. “That’s quite a question for not even 6am." He shifted slightly, making room for Arthur. “I do, yeah. Especially now." He seemed to hesitate. "Do you ever think about it?"

"I never used to." Arthur rested his head in the crook of Eames' neck, staring out at the mountains in the early morning light. He'd always loved the mountains around Lucerne and this hotel had a phenomenal view of them, the balcony facing the snow capped peaks. Eames had been the one to suggest they watch the sunrise this morning, and Arthur had been all too happy to agree. "I never wanted to get married. Always said it wasn't for me. I thought it sounded like such a terrible idea, giving up freedom for one single person. I couldn't imagine myself ever doing something like that. I remember telling Mal that, and she told me that sometimes you met someone who made it worth it." He smiled softly at the memory. "I thought she was full of shit." Eames laughed quietly and Arthur reached across his lap until he found Eames' hand under the blankets, intertwining their fingers. "I think I understand better now what she meant though. Because I did meet someone who makes it worth it. And that freedom I was so set on never giving up? It doesn't mean anything anymore if it's not with you."

Eames paused again, going still. "Arthur, are you asking me to marry you?"

Arthur considered the question for a moment. "Yeah. I think I am." He smiled, the realization dawning on him. That was exactly what he was doing. "I love you, and all the freedom in the world isn't worth it without you beside me. So I'd like to be your husband, if you're okay with that."

Eames shifted, tilting Arthur's chin up with his fingers. Arthur followed the movement easily to find Eames watching him with an expression gentler than Arthur had thought possible. There was such love in his face that Arthur briefly wondered if he'd somehow died during the night and woken up in heaven. "Darling, there is nothing in this world I'd want more." 

Arthur smiled wider and closed the space between them with a kiss. Mal was right: some things really did change. And that was okay.

#arthur x eames #arthur/eames #dream husbands #dreamhusbands #inception #this has been floating around in my brain for like a month #so I figured I should probably finally write it khgkjsdf #local trash goblin writes stuff

[ikefool]

Giving in -Part 1

Summary: While solving a case with Arthur, things thake an unexpected turn, both in this mystery and in your relationship.

Rating: Explicit, mature. EXTREMELY spicy.  DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE NOT 18 OR OLDER. This chapter does not include spice but IT WILL in the near future

Pairing: IkeVamp Arthur x Reader

Word Count: 2200

A/N: Sorry for the lack of spice but it was getting too long. This was supposed to be a one-shot...

Masterlist

The light from the morning sun hits the shop’s window, breaking into beams and sparkling shapes. It hits the jewels under the glass counter and refracts into tiny little spots of colored light.

“Something like this?” says the shop’s owner. His rough, aged hands delicately handle the sapphire pendant, the movement sends dots of light dancing all over his wrinkled face. “Hm, this’d have to be purchased some time ago, were they twins?”

“Twin jewels, yes, according to the original owner. But the other stone was set onto a hairpin” You turn to look outside while the old man examines the pendant. You glance at the tree where you had last seen your partner, but he’s no longer there. Puzzled, you stand up straighter, trying not to be so obvious as you strain your neck this way and that, squinting to see if you can spot him nearby.

“Well, I can’t really be sure just by looking at it, but I have a couple of lenses in the back that might help… mademoiselle?”

You blink at him “Hm? Oh! Yes of course, that would be very helpful, monsieur” you smile at him, but he’s already heading to the back of the shop with the sapphire in hand, murmuring faintly about craftsmanship and american silver.

While he’s gone you walk away from the counter and closer to the window. The tree is still deserted, and a quick scan of the square’s benches is fruitless. It’s still far too early for the couples to show up, and aside from the odd shopper and small family, the small park is practically empty. 

Where the hell is he? ‘Oh, you’ll do fine on your own, luv’ this ‘It would look odd if I went in’ that. You’re starting to suspect he’d just up and left you to do all the work. You huff, already planning on smacking him upside the head when you next see him. You live in the same mansion, he can’t evade you for long.

“It’s just as you said, this was made in an american shop” you leave your post by the window and walk back to the counter, plastering on a friendly smile. If Arthur insists on leaving you, you’ll just have to solve this case on your own. “The stamp is european though, specifically parisian. It was stamped just a few months ago. Strange, pearl is more fashionable these days. The jewel is much older, maybe a heirloom? I’m afraid that is all I can tell you.”

“Not at all, monsieur, you have been very helpful.” The old man’s already small eyes nearly disappear under his wrinkles when he smiles. 

“The pleasure was all mine, mademoiselle.”

You quickly pay the man for the consultation and then, after placing the pendant carefully back in its velvet pouch, head outside. 

The wind sweeps your hair to one side as soon as you close the door to the small shop, and you use your gloved hand to brush it away. You look to both sides before deciding to sit on a nearby bench to write down your findings. Arthur may be able to keep all the information in his head, but you find it easier to keep it compiled in a notebook in case you need it later. As you place your bag to one side of you and rummage through it for your small moleskine notebook, you hear a chorus of giggles from nearby. 

You turn to look, and notice a small group of young women crowding around someone. You can see only the top of the man’s head, but that much is enough. You scoff and return to your notebook. Of course he had not abandoned you, he’d just gotten swept away by a flock of pretty girls. Typical. And of course he’s just loving the attention, telling them a fantastic story of one of his many adventures, judging by the impressed looks the women are giving him.

Covering your mouth to hide your laugh, you return to your notebook. You write down what the jeweler had told you before snapping it shut and putting it back in your bag. Your next stop is not far away, but you should get Arthur before leaving. As much as you would like to leave him here and go there yourself, you don’t know the exact address. You sigh heavily and walk over to the growing number of women, all of them paying rapt attention. It would honestly be impressive, if it weren’t so annoying.

“And just like that! The lost puppy was reunited with its owner, all in a day’s work” The girls all gasp and coo, the flurry of movement sending a cloud of flowery perfume up into the air.  

“All in a day’s work?!” You exclaim, peeking from behind a girl’s tall curly hairdo. “And how ever did you manage that, monsieur?” He turns to you, smile radiant, ready to tell you all about it. And then he notices just who you are, and the way your hands rest on your hips. His smile falters for just a second.

“Oh um, well, I had my lovely assistant with me, of course! Terribly sorry ladies, but I have to go now. You know how it goes, bye now.” He steps between the now pouting ladies, carefully avoiding the hems of their skirts. He grabs you by the arm along the way, pulling you with him until you’re in the clear. 

“My lovely assistant? What are you, Arthur, a detective or a magician?” You look up at him, eyebrows raised. You’re walking beside him on the cobbled street, now far enough from the square that the only sounds are the occasional chirping of birds and the click of your steps.

“Well, you caught me off guard, darling.”

“You!? The great writer-slash-detective?! The one and only Arthur Conan Doyle?! Paris’ great hero?! Caught off-”

“Hah! Laying it on a bit thick, aren’t we?” You glare at him ”Alright, I get it. I shouldn’t have left you alone at the shop.” You glare at him some more “And… I shouldn't have wandered off.”

You sigh, clasping your hands behind your back. As you walk you notice a small pebble in the road, you kick it softly with the tip of your shoe. “You’re allowed to do whatever you want, Arthur. If you want to go to the square and chat up an entire gaggle of pretty, young parisian ladies then you can do so. Just don’t give me excuses like ‘You would look less suspicious going into the shop’” You say, making air quotes at him. “I actually happen to care about solving these cases.”

Arthur places a hand on your shoulder and sprints a few steps until he’s facing you, he walks backwards in front of you. You frown, you weren't expecting the giant grin on his face “Wait a second, are you jealous? Oh, I knew you had a thing for me!” The pebble you had been kicking goes flying and falls down a drain.

“I’m not jealous, you impossible idiot man, I’m angry! I hate feeling like you’re just using me as an excuse to go out and… and flirt! You rope me in under the pretense of solving a case and then you leave me alone to do all the work while you go hang around and enjoy yourself!” Your cheeks burn with anger, Arthur’s smile drops. “I guess I’m the idiot, huh? Since I still come along with you and play lovely assistant while you have your fun. So stupid.” You cross your arms and push past him, glaring at the ground, for some reason there’s a knot in your throat.

“Hey, no, darling...” He pleads, racing to catch up with you, you roll your eyes. “You’re right. You’re not stupid, okay? I’m the idiot.” You stay silent “I’m an idiot and a scoundrel and… Please look at me?” You stop and look up at him, still glaring “I’m sorry, I do want to solve this case. And what I said about you going into the shop was still the truth, but I also wanted you to go on your own because I thought… listen, you’re practically solving this one on your own. You’re doing amazing, and I wanted to step back a little and give you some space to work, thought maybe I’d get to play lovely assistant this time around.” He sighs, smiling shyly at the ground while he rakes a hand through his wind-swept hair. “Guess I stepped back a little too far, though.”

You look at him for a moment while he fidgets nervously. “Fine, apology accepted.” Arthur sags in relief. “Just… I’d like to actually work together on this.”

“Yes! Of course.” You walk together in silence for a few moments until Arthur speaks again “So, I’m completely forgiven, am I?” You look at him, suspicious at his tone “Does that mean I get a ‘you’re forgiven’ kiss?” He taps a finger against his cheek, waggling his eyebrows suggestively, when you just stare at him blankly he slowly moves the finger to his lips, tilting his head in question.

You scoff loudly. “A smack is what you’ll get, monsieur Doyle.”

“Fine then” he says cheerily, without missing a beat “go right ahead.” He leans down to offer you his cheek for a smack.

You huff “Well, it’s no fun when you just tell me to smack you.” you can barely keep yourself from laughing.

“Ah there it is, I’d let you smack me every day for the rest of my life if it meant you’d smile at me like that.” He places a hand over his heart dramatically.

This time you do laugh, of course he’d say that, the impossible flirt.

A few hours later you’re sitting in a carriage on your way back to the mansion, you’re jotting down all your findings in your notebook while Arthur looks out the window. The carriage jolts suddenly, and you curse quietly as you accidentally make a scribble on the page. Arthur chuckles beside you. 

“You could wait until we get back to the mansion, you know?” You ignore him, trying to remember everything the lady of the house had said about her family’s history before you forget. 

The sky outside is brushed orange and red, but is quickly turning a deep indigo. You have a few minutes of light at the most, and you still have some time before you can get to the mansion.

Save for the rolling thuds of the carriage and the rustling of its contents the ride is mostly silent. Arthur is resting his arm on the edge of his seat, face tilted to look out at the darkening sky. You close your notebook softly. His face is highlighted by the last of the day’s golden light, expression uncharacteristically pensive. 

“Something you like, darling? You start at his voice. Arthur doesn’t turn to you, but you can see the edge of his smile curl slowly into a smirk. You decide to ignore his comment.

“The lady said her sister had been overseas for the last five years, and she made it sound like she came back only just before she disappeared last week. And yet, the festival she mentioned…” Arthur turns to you now, a curious gleam in his eye.

“Smart girl, I told you about it, didn’t I? While walking around the square? Yes, that was only a few months ago. We can only conclude that she’s hiding something from us.”

You frown. “Yes, but what? She’s the one that hired us to find the hairpin, and what would she lie about her sister’s whereabouts when it has nothing to do with the case?”

Arthur shifts on his seat, leaning in slowly to place his elbows on his knees, hands threaded in front of his face, only just brushing his smiling lips. “Well, I think that it is our job to discover it, perhaps more than one mystery will be unravelled by the time we’re finished with this case.” You’re transfixed by his eyes. Outside it is now dark, and the scarce light makes them look like the night sky has pooled beneath his eyelids. He’s leaning so very close. “Come now, out we go. We mustn't keep the coachman waiting.”

You glance out the window, surprised to find that you are no longer moving, and that the carriage has stopped just outside the mansion. Arthur is standing outside with one hand extended towards you to help you get down. You take his hand before you can think better of it, and try not to look too embarrassed as you step out with his help.

You thank the coachman quickly and together you walk toward the beautiful mansion. There are soft crickets chirping amongst the garden, and the atmosphere is peaceful, though pensive as you both mull over the facts of the case.

“Fancy a nightcap, luv?” You nod quickly, your mind is much too muddled to go to sleep just yet. Arthur smiles at your troubled expression. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head over it, I feel that we are close to a break in this case. Now, let’s better get inside before the night turns cold, shall we?”

~.~.~.~.~.~.

Taglist: @juminly​

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikemen vampire fic #ikemen vampire fanfiction #ikevamp arthur #ikemen vampire arthur #ikevamp arthur x reader #a thing that i wrote

[heartsywritesthethings]

Birthday Knightmare

“What sort of knight sees over an empty castle?”

“You’re not really a knight, dumbass,”

“I don’t see how his parents let him out like that,”

“Grow up, Arthur.”

Knight King Arthur Boyle shot up in his bed, his blanket tangled around his legs from all of his tossing and turning through the night. A feeling of absolute loneliness crashed over him like a suffocating wave. He felt as if he were drowning in it. 

No. He was a knight king…he shouldn’t feel this way. He was brave and honorable and the protector of station 8 and the world!

And yet the sensation remained. A deep hole in his chest that threatened to suck everything in and leave nothing behind. Arthur pulled himself out of bed, absently pulling his hair up in his trademark ponytail. He perched up on his toes and decided now would be a perfect time to pester his annoying roommate. Yeah, that would definitely help him feel better.

“Hey, Devil–” Arthur began. Empty bed. It was like a slap to the face and he felt panic begin to swirl around his chest. 

Was it happening again?

No. No, that couldn’t happen. That stupid devil was probably around here somewhere along with the others. Other people. He would be fine. Sure, a knight could fight battles on his own, but he also needs  his fellow companions for support. His fans, to cheer him on.

Arthur pulled on his slippers, silver ones with bright yellow crowns on the toes, and he went out into the hallway. The vast emptiness felt suffocating. There were no sounds of laughter, chatting, praying, cooking…nothing. He felt sick as a knot formed in his stomach.

Well, guess it was time to make breakfast like he used to. While he had been in charge of his home kingdom, he had gotten accustomed to making his own meals. Well, he was probably the only one who could call them meals. Since his mother had…well, left, there was no one to help him really when it came to cooking. He could vaguely remember watching her cook and the sickly sweet smell the cooked fish that the three of them would have to share. It had been Ogun who had taught him to cook rice properly without the threat of burning down the whole place. Shinra had of course poked fun at him, but Ogun was quick to stop him. 

That was something that he had really appreciated about that guy. He was just as honorable as a knight, defending those in need and standing up for what was right. While such a manly knight as Arthur didn’t really need the aide, it was nice nonetheless.

Thoughts of the academy days did nothing to soothe his boiling panic. If anything, it made him feel more alone here. Arthur reached the kitchen and pulled out the rice from the pantry. He waited for a moment, anticipating Lt. Hinawa to burst through and get onto him for not having a healthy breakfast. Maybe Tamaki would trip in and magically lose her shirt. Or perhaps Vulcan would shuffle in and with a new and improved silver steed for him.

Nothing. 

The sound of rice pitter pattering in an empty pan was almost deafening. He poured in some water and then…waited.

“That kinda sounds like your parents abandoned you,”

“Where are your parents, kid?”

“Your dad didn’t teach you this?”

Tears began to form in Arthur’s eyes, but he quickly wiped them away. Knights don’t cry. They were too manly. Besides what if someone walked in and

You’re alone, Arthur. Again.

Arthur flinched. He hadn’t heard that voice in what seemed like ages. It was his own, of course, but he had thought he had imprisoned such a mind monster. 

You drove them away.

The tears were really coming down now as he just stared at the pot of rice on the stove.

What did he do this time? Was it something he did? 

“I don’t know, man. They just said to go get you then head to the roof.” Shinra’s voice said from the hallway. Without thinking, Arthur bolted from the kitchen towards where he heard the voice. Sure, it could be his mind monster playing cruel tricks on him again, but he needed to know for sure.

“Station 8 has some weird rules and junk.” Ogun’s voice responded. They were both here. 

He wasn’t alone.

He wasn’t alone.

He wasn’t alone.

“Oh, now I see,” Shinra laughed. 

Arthur Boyle burst through the roof hall doors where Shinra and Ogun were standing. Shinra was holding the door open to the roof where the rest of the company was. Tamaki, Iris, Captain Obi, Lt. Hinawa, Vulcan, Maki, Victor, and even the three fire force mascots. They were all standing around a table with a crudely made banner reading “happy birthday Sir King Arthur!!!”. They were all smiling when they saw him.

“Surprise!” The gang said in unison. Well, everyone except for Ogun and Shinra. The two of them immediately rushed to their friend (he’s your friend too Shinra, just admit it).

Arthur fell to his knees, quickly wiping his tears with his sleeves, but they wouldn’t stop. Ogun dropped in front of him, immediately pulling him into one of those bear hugs that were oh so sweet. Shinra was next to him, a steady hand on his back. 

“Did we scare him that bad?” Maki asked, poking her head in to see what was going on.

“You shouldn’t leave him like that!” Shinra barked back at her. “Why didn’t you tell me this was the plan?”

“You can’t keep a secret to save your life, perv.” Tamaki joined in.

“Alright, you two. Stop with the teasing and go get the couch blanketed down. Iris, make sure they keep to Nightmare Protocol 1.” Captain Obi commanded. He pushed through the doors and walked over to where the three boys were. It was obvious that this hit some kind of trauma that the blonde kid had. “Maki and Victor, help Vulcan move the festivities to the main hall. Lt., get him some water,”

“Right!”

It didn’t take long for Arthur to be ushered to the hall in a whirlwind of motion. Ogun and Shinra never left his side though, each having at the very least a hand on him so that he knew that they were still there. Finally, he was resting against Ogun’s side, curled up on the couch with a mountain of blankets and pillows around him like a fortress. Shinra was still piling on more.

“Do you want it to be your turn right now? Is that okay?” Ogun asked, so softly that even Arthur barely heard it. Slowly, he shook his head. “What would help right now?”

Arthur pointed a feeble finger at Shinra.

“His turn,” He said quietly. Ogun chuckled.

“Hey, hero, Sir birthday king has declared that it is your turn today.” Ogun said, this time louder. Shinra immediately froze and turned bright red. He opened his mouth in protest then stopped. Shinra grumbled something about them needing to wait. He left for just a moment and then dragged Vulcan back, holding a present in his hand. Vulcan had a wide grin on his face. A devilish smile that almost rivaled Shinra’s. In fact, Shinra was smiling his tense smile once again.

“Show him,” Shinra grumbled and gestured towards Arthur. Vulcan handed him the present and then cleared his throat.

“Sir king Arthur, I present to you the gift of my new invention! I call them, Giggleflies.” Vulcan announced before bowing deeply. Arthur pulled apart the wrapping paper to see several metal moth-like machines. Each was about as big as his palm and had half a dozen nubby legs. Also in the box was a little remote with several buttons and switches along with a small keypad.

“Press one for…me,” Shinra grumbled, not even looking at him now. The devil shifted awkwardly from side to side. He did. The giggleflies powered up, hovering for a moment around the opened box before darting straight for their target. Instead of running, Shinra stood, his eyes squeezed shut as he braced himself for ticklish impact.

The bugs were fast, several darting under his shirt and clamping onto different ticklish areas. One under each arm, one on his ribs, one flat on his stomach, and another on his hip. One even crawled around to clamp onto his shoulder blades and another onto one of his knees. Two others hovered by his feet, but didn’t do much of anything since he was standing.

“You have to like, sit or something for these to work.” Vulcan said, gesturing for Shinra to move.

“I don’t like this present anymore for him,” Shinra said, but then moved so he could sit. The two leftover giggleflies clamped onto each bare foot.

“Pick a number.” Vulcan said to Arthur now. Arthur looked down at the keypad. Numbers 0-9. He pressed one.

Almost immediately, Shinra began thrashing with laughter. The two under his arms were poking and prodding at one of his most ticklish spots. They were random with some digging and making him howl and squeal, with others lightly scratching with made his giggles kick up and his feet kick out.

Arthur pressed 2. The gigglefly on Shinra’s ribs began to squeeze like ticklish claws, the timing random so every now and again Shinra would squeak and jerk around like a fish. A smile formed on Arthur’s face. This was just about the best gift ever.

He pressed three. For some reason, the first two stopped as this one began. That was fine with Arthur. He thought that Shinra could use a breather anyways. 

A feather like device was swirling devilishly around Shinra’s navel, circling it like a shark circles prey. Shinra twisted, cute giggles filling the air as it got closer and closer.

“Nohohohoho! Waihihihit!” Shinra giggled as the feather then dipped into his belly button. He jerked agin, his giggles jumping up again. The feather tickling stopped and for a moment…nothing happened.Then it felt like someone was giving him the biggest most ticklish raspberry of his life. Shinra curled in on himself and squealed. There was nothing he could do to stop it though, just laugh and laugh and laugh. 

While Arthur was definitely enjoying himself, he could tell that Shinra was starting to get tired.

“Which one does his feet?” Arthur asked, having to raise his voice a little over the laughter.

“Nine.” Vulcan responded. Arthur pressed it. The tickling on Shinra’s stomach stopped and Shinra greedily drank in the sweet air. He was still letting out residual giggles, but at least the kid was breathing.

Then, the tickling began. Smooth feathery things slid in between the poor devil’s toes, making him shriek. Something crawled up and down his arches, something else chewed at his heels.

Shinra was sent into hysterics. He thrashed and there were times when Arthur could see sparks flying through the makeshift metal boot. These things must be pretty fire resistant then. That was definitely a plus. 

When Shinra’s laughter fell silent, Arthur pressed the RETURN button and the giggle flies unclamped and flew back towards their box. Shinra panted on the floor, a pure smile across his face.

Arrthur spent the rest of his birthday cuddled up against Ogun and Shinra (who had crawled up against Arthur in a giggly daze). He tormented the rest of the team, sending these new Giggleflies over any new victim who hadn’t felt their ticklish wrath yet. Even Lt. Hinawa allowed himself to be attacked which was kind of surprising. The day was full of laughter and mirth and soon, the whole team had piled onto the couch and slept after a long day. 

With this team, Arthur would never have to feel that crushing loneliness again.

-GA!babe

#submission #ga!babe #babe coming in clutch with the BEST content #tickle fic #tickling #ticklish!shinra #shinra kusakabe #arthur boyle #ogun montgomery #vulcan joseph #fire force #company 8 #team as family

[the-awkward-outlaw]

what abt one where you try to console Arthur after his breakup from Mary and one thing leads to another

Mm, this one turned out hot. Also, fuck Mary. She pisses me off. 

Masterlist

Read on AO3

Warnings: smut

Arthur’s been in his room for a while. Too long in your opinion and you’re beginning to worry. He was out in Saint Denis all yesterday and this morning, but when he came back about an hour ago, he was unusually distant. Sure, Arthur’s not a talker, but he almost always wanders camp, chipping into conversations and he always comes to see you. Not today though. Something’s wrong. 

You’ve been trying to sneak into the big manor for some time to go and talk to him. After all, you’re his best friend (and you’re secretly in love with him). If anyone’s going to coax him to talk about what’s bothering him, you can. However, you’re pretty much being kept prisoner to this damn crate by Grimshaw. She’s mad because you spent a week straight out with Arthur, wandering from Strawberry to Annesburg. It doesn’t even matter to her that you both came laden with pelts, meat, provisions and even a few hundred bucks to contribute to camp. She says you should’ve been helping around camp with the other girls. Whenever you’ve tried sneaking away, she’s swooped down on you like a massive hawk on an unsuspecting squirrel. 

However, when Arthur came back, Karen saw how desperately you wanted to go see him. She knew something was wrong too. She was already nearly a bottle down on whiskey, so she did you the favor of getting herself even more drunk. You’ve been watching her. Grimshaw gets incredibly angry when Karen is drunk. As she drinks more and more, getting deeper in, Grimshaw marches over. 

“What the hell you doin’, girl? You’re supposed to be workin’, not drinkin’ enough to sink a saloon!”

“Ah, shut up, you old bat!” Karen hollers back. 

The two quickly descend into a heated argument, giving you the opportunity to sneak away and into the house. As you scurry off, you swear Karen gives you a wink, but maybe she’s so drunk that she can’t operate her eyelids properly anymore. Hard to tell. 

Finally, you get to the second floor without any problems. Slowly, you open the door to Arthur’s room. He’s lying on his back in the bed, an arm draped over his eyes. 

“Arthur?” you say quietly. 

He lifts his head and spots you. His face falls more, but he sits up. “Hey, Y/N.” 

“You okay? You seem down.” 

You take a seat next to him on the bed. He clasps his hands between his knees, his elbows on his thighs, but his eyes are planted on the ground. 

“What happened?” 

He sighs. “Not really much of anything, but… God, I’m such a damn fool.” 

You hesitate, dying to comfort him. You’ve been friends for years and you’ve had a crush on him for ages. You can’t even name how many nights you’ve pretended to be enfolded in his arms, and how many nights you’ve touched yourself, pretending it was him. Hell, you’ve even called out his name. Slowly, you reach over and grab his hand. He looks up at you, surprised. 

“Arthur, you’re not a fool. You’re smart, brave, funny. I’ve seen you take pity on people, even when they haven’t deserved it. Please, tell me what happened.” 

He sighs and squeezes your hand. “I, uh, went and saw Mary. She wrote to me again.” 

“Mary? I thought she wouldn’t contact you again again after you got her brother back?” 

You knew all about that of course. You were the only one Arthur confided that into. One of the benefits of being such close friends for so many years. 

“I didn’t either, but she did. Said she wanted to see me again.” 

“And what did she want this time? She need you to go scare some other people again?” 

He sighs and you can’t tell if he’s smiling as his face is still pointed to the floor. “Yes. Guess her daddy was provin’ once again how much he don’t care for his family. He sold her mother’s broach so I went and got it back. Then, she had the nerve to ask me to go to a show.” 

“She asked you out on a date? I thought you two weren’t sweet on another?” You fail to hide the pain from your voice. 

“I didn’t think we were, or she was anyways. I… like I said, I’m a damn fool. When I’m not around her, I don’t really want nothin’ to do with her. Mostly because I…” he pauses and squeezes your hand again. “But when I’m around her, it’s like I can’t really control myself. She knows exactly how to play and manipulate me. So yeah, I went on a date with her. Whole thing felt wrong. And then… she asked me to run away with her.” 

Your heart drops. Shit, is he only here to collect his things and then disappear with her? The thought breaks your heart. You know exactly how much you’ve come to depend on him and it scares you that he would so easily and willingly abandon the gang and you. It hurts too. Can you tell him the truth? 

“So… you’re just here to gather your things, I’m guessing?” you say, trying to keep your voice steady. 

He looks up at you finally. “Course not. I have people to take care of. I… I told her I had someone waitin’ for me.” 

Your stomach suddenly becomes alive with butterflies. “And what did she say?” 

He sighs again and looks back at the floor. “She didn’t take it too well. She… she called me some bad things. Was convinced that I lied to her, played her.” 

“Well that’s rich, coming from her!” 

He huffs a small laugh. “That’s what I told her. Only made her more mad though. She started sayin’ the same ol’ bullshit, that she shoulda had my hung a long time ago, that she should turn me in now.” 

“She wouldn’t, would she?” 

He huffs again. “She said that all the time when we was datin’ as kids. It was all garnish though, never had any weight to it. I expect it’s the same now. She only says it because she’s mad and wanted to… well, convince me to do things her way.” 

You smile and squeeze his hand again. “Well, if anyone’s the fool, Arthur, she is.” 

“Oh she definitely is a fool, mostly for putin’ in good years on a no-good outlaw.” 

You frown a bit. “Arthur, I’ve been with you for a few years now. I don’t think I’ve invested my time unwisely.” 

“Then maybe you’re a fool too. You’d be a lot smarter to stay away from me, darlin’. I ain’t no good. I ain’t got much good in me.” 

You can tell Arthur needs a morale boost, but you’re not quite sure what to say. Suddenly a thought strikes you. 

“Arthur… can I do something? I wanna show you what I feel about you. And, well, considering you and Mary dated for so long, something tells me she never did anything like this for you.” 

He looks up at you. “What you talkin’ about?” 

You smile and slide off the bed, going to your knees and placing yourself in front of him. Your hand goes up to cup his cheek. You rub his stubbled jaw for a moment, his eyes sparkling with… what is that? Excitement? Finally you lean in and kiss his lips. Oh God, how you’ve wanted to do this for so long. He doesn’t pull away, instead his hand plants on the back of your neck. His mouth moves with yours and his warm breath washes over your face. 

After a moment, you pull away. “Arthur,” you whisper, “let me show you how I feel about you.” 

“What do you mean?” 

You smile. “Like I said, let me show you.” 

He gives you a stiff nod and you smile, going back in for another kiss. As you do, your hands go to work on his shirt, undoing his buttons. Your lips follow your fingers, tracing his naked skin as you work your way downwards. Damn, he’s good looking, with hair in just the right places. You saw him shirtless once when he was bathing in a river, but you weren’t close enough then to truly appreciate his body. His built, but not overbuilt. 

Finally you get to his pants. He’s breathing hard and you can see him straining against his jeans. As you’re undoing his gunbelt, he groans. 

“God, darlin’.” 

This urges you on and you quickly unbutton his pants and reach a hand in to stroke him. Damn, he is firm. You feel a familiar pulsing between your own legs, so you pull him out and stare shamelessly at his cock. He’s thick, a long vein running down his entire length. You start pumping him, slowly, and watching him grow even more. He groans again and leans back, planting his hands on the bed. 

You’re filled with an urge to pleasure him. He needs the release. This poor man has been working so hard with so little thanks. He’s more than earned this. You look up at him and his eyes are closed as your hands work. 

“Arthur, I want you to look at me,” you say. His head tips forward and his eyes open. When you’ve got his attention again, you smile. 

After pumping him two more times, you slowly dip down towards his cock. You run your tongue from the base of his length all the way down to his head. He shivers beneath you, a hiss escaping his lips. His cock pulses hot and hard. You wrap your lips around his head and begin sucking, tickling just the tip. His hips buck a little, but you can tell he’s trying so hard to control himself. Slowly, you slip more of him into your mouth. He’s beginning to pant as you bob against him. 

“Oh my God,” he groans, making you smile. You pull him from your mouth with a small pop and then you stand up. His eyes find yours with a silent plea, begging you to continue. 

“Don’t worry, Mr. Morgan. I’m gonna take good care of you.” 

You quickly take off your clothes, but make sure to give him a show. A few moments later, you’re standing stark naked in front of him, letting his eyes rake over your body. You grab his shoulder and guide him to lie down on the bed before sliding your leg over him to straddle his hips. His cock’s still standing, eager for your center. 

You grab his length once more and give it a few pumps, bringing it back to full erection once more. Then, you angle him towards your slit and then sit down on his hips. It’s your turn to groan as his cock spreads your walls. His hands go to your hips and squeeze, then they slide up to grab your breasts. You put your hands on his and begin thrusting your hips, your eyes meeting his. His cheeks are flushed pink, like your own, but his eyes are glued to yours. 

You bounce on his hips, trying to bring him to his release, which he so badly needs. He’s panting beneath you, which says that he’s close. His own hips are thrusting up into your pelvis, burying his cock deeper into you. He suddenly brushes your spot, making you gasp. This seems to encourage him as he bucks harder, brushing it more and more. You start to pant on top of him. 

Without warning, Arthur suddenly grabs you, flips you onto your back and plows right back into you. He pumps himself hard against you, making the whole bed move. God, you hope no one can hear this, but you kind of don’t care. He takes your right knee and brings it up, wrapping your leg around him to give him a better angle. His cock goes even deeper into you and he starts kissing your neck. You can feel your own orgasm beginning to peak, but you want to chase his. He’s more than earned it. 

As he’s plowing into you, he starts losing his rhythm. He groans into your neck. 

“I want ya to cum to me, darlin’,” he growls in your ears. 

“Arthur,” you pant. “This… this is about you. Don’t… worry about… me.” 

He smiles and kisses your lips. “God I been wantin’ to do this so long.” His hand glides down your body and down to your slit. You want him to touch you there but know he shouldn’t. Just as you’re about to say something, his fingers brush over your clit. This makes you tilt your head back, groaning as your hips angle up into him. 

With his fingers stroking your clit and his cock brushing on your spot, it only takes seconds before your back arches, your toes curl and your fingers dig into his back. 

“Arthur!” you yelp as your orgasm rips through your body. He sucks on your neck and his fingers continue stroking your clit, prolonging your release. Your center pulses around his cock, almost painfully so. You haven’t orgasmed with a man inside you in many years. 

As you pulse around him, he groans and pushes harder into you. As you settle down beneath him, he suddenly thrusts the hardest he’s done and then he quickly pulls out. Just in time as his cock releases his spend, spreading over your stomach. He grunts loudly as he releases, but then he opens his eyes and looks down at you, covered in his juices. 

“Sorry, darlin’,” he grunts. He bends down and grabs a cloth, cleaning you up. 

“I ain’t complaining, Arthur. That was… damn. I’m gonna admit something: I’ve imagined doing this with you but I never thought it could be that good.” 

He chuckles, throwing the cloth across the room. “I doubt that, darlin’. I’m very out of practice.” 

“As am I, Arthur, so it works out. Maybe you and I… can make this a regular thing?” 

He smiles and bends down to kiss you again. “I’d like that. Thank you.” 

#red dead fanfic #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader smut #arthur morgan x female reader #awkward asks

[fleckcmscott]

After

Summary: Arthur is heartened to have Y/N back by his side. But moving forward isn't as simple as he'd daydreamed.

Warnings: Adult situations, Swearing

Words: 3,391

A/N: This request comes from @jokerownsmysoul​! It's a continuation of Ch. 23 of Watch What Happens and takes off right after the last paragraph. Funnily enough, when Karen originally beta'd that chapter she said, "Where's their conversation? Oh, well, I guess it's implied." 😄 Special thanks to Domino, aka @thegirlwho​, (who also wanted their conversation 😂) for sharing her point of view and helping me see things from a different perspective.

A good portion of my life is the exploding head emoji right now, so it's been a while since I've posted. However, I'm still here. Still writing. Still trying. Work on the new multi-chapter continues. If you've got any requests, let me know. Your patience, support, and you mean a lot to me. Thank you.

Nimble fingers twined through his loose, brown curls, a gentle tug as lips met and parted, met and parted. Her body surrounding that soft, most intimate part of him was visceral. Warm and wet. "I love you" fell from her mouth. Once, twice, more than the walls of his apartment had ever heard. He swallowed but was unable to murmur an appropriate reply. She came back, his mind affirmed. She came back.

Shit, I haven't mopped for a week.

Arthur braced himself on his knees and elbows to look down at her. The notched collar of Y/N's blouse had somehow remained uncrumpled. Strands of her hair fanned out messily over the beige, aged hexagons of the kitchen linoleum. Her tears had reduced to stains on her flushed cheeks. He brushed them away with the back of his knuckles. She'd said he hadn't hurt her, that she was happy. Both good things. If he could figure out the next step...

His eyes flitted back and forth between hers, brows pinched. Moving to kneel, he tucked himself back into his briefs, pulled his light blue pajama bottoms over his rear, then ran his hands along his thighs. "Have you had dinner?"

Buoyant laughter left her as she propped herself on her forearms. "I'm famished. Especially after that." She extended her hand and he accepted it gladly. When she started to pull herself up, he grabbed the other. Her kitten-heels slid the weave rug along the floor; it took some effort for her to get her footing. Once she stood, she tied the drawstring of his pants and adjusted her skirt. "Be right back," she said and scurried to the bathroom.

The thud of the door closing cleared the awe from head. He'd rather have kept it. Changes in mood were typical as of late. The bliss of her return was already twisting into dread. No longer consumed by the need to be inside her, his mind conjured questions, too many to brush off. He turned the knob of the toaster over. Studied the orange glow of its heating element. Had charity - or worse, pity - caused her return? Had distress afflicted her as deeply as it had him? Had she thought of him half as much as he'd thought of her?

Was she going to abandon him again?

He suddenly felt very silly and quite small for allowing himself a modicum of relief. Nothing had been clarified. By having a quickie on the floor after they'd barely exchanged a word, he'd set himself up to be hurt. The way he had when he'd kissed Helen, or when he'd considered Randall his friend, or when he'd believed, for one foolish minute, that Murray might be kind. He flinched against the fury simmering in his stomach. That same panic and anger from when Y/N had walked out of his apartment and, he'd been convinced, his life. He clutched the counter's curved edge so hard his fingertips went numb.

But then she curled herself into his side and squeezed him tight about the waist. Her blithe bearing was almost enough to quiet his tumult. "Anything I can help with?"

"No." He moved to dig through the freezer. Beans and franks with a brownie. English style fish 'n' chips. His mother's favorite, meatloaf. Only the teal packaging made them appealing. He grimaced at the meager offerings. He snatched one from the door, held it out with some trepidation. It was possible the gel-like gravy, slices of turkey roll, and drowned stuffing wouldn't put Y/N off. "Um, this was on sale. I bought a few."

"It's perfect." She accepted the carton and tore it open. "I heard a song on the radio yesterday that made me think of you."

"Oh yeah?" He closed the door of the toaster and set the timer with a flick of the wrist.

"The man was singing that his name was Carnival. That's your clown name, right?" She chuckled, dragged the black, wooden stool from under the counter, and perched on it. "It reminded me of the subway." A flirty pinch to his abdomen. "And that I still have to see one of your performances."

Arthur scoffed and averted his gaze, struggled to push through his anxiety and enjoy her. But he wasn't the type of man to let questions lie. When he'd gotten the courage to ask Y/N on a date, he'd taken the risk. When he'd read Penny's letter, he'd hopped on the first train to Wayne Manor. After the confrontation in Wayne Hall, he'd gone to Arkham and stolen that wretched file.

His curiosity tended to pick wounds that hadn't yet healed over.

The warmth of her hand met his back. "Thank you for giving me time."

The tenderness of her tone loosened the clench of his jaw. But he still couldn't bring himself to look at her. He'd done what she'd requested, because he'd feared mistakes would drive her further away, not because he'd wanted to or understood. He wondered if someone without a mental illness would have behaved differently. She'd pleaded with him to listen, kissed him goodbye, then left like it was nothing.

Whatever the case, her appreciation felt wrong. He didn't need gratitude. He needed answers. He inhaled sharply. "Why did you go?"

She traced the knobs of his spine. "I had to figure out the best way to be with you."

"Am I that hard to be with?" he bit out.

"Of course not. That's not what I said."

He gulped and released a ragged breath. "It broke my fucking-" He faltered when his voice cracked.

"Arthur, I didn't want to hurt you. I'm sorry." Her embrace was tight, a welcome pressure on his ribs despite the ache. Her palm slid up his sternum. "I was afraid to do more harm than good." He should have contradicted her, told her she was crazy if she believed loving him would damage him. But he stopped himself when she nuzzled his bicep. It was a while before she cleared her throat. "I love you more than I imagined possible." She giggled, then, and sniffed. "Which isn't bad for six weeks, Mr. Fleck."

Tears threatened as his eyelids fluttered. He managed to keep them at bay, covering her hand with his to distract himself. He pressed it tighter to him, until he thought her fingers might break through his chest. Finally, he met her stare. Found it full of love and what might have been joy at being together. In that moment, he knew nothing would ever separate his heart from hers.

~~~~~

"Christmas is coming up. Let me know what you'd like to do."

Arthur's slight nod was typical of their conversation this evening. Well, that wasn't quite fair. More like half of it. He'd been vacillating between bouts of confidence and timidity, with the latter tending to win out. He'd put his arm around her, examined the latest issue of TV Guide, and asked what she'd preferred to watch. She'd let him choose; he'd picked a three-hour variety show. Minutes later, he'd been squished into the corner of the sofa, legs neatly crossed with his hands clasped in his lap. She'd risen to refresh their ice teas, and he'd halted her with a kiss to her knuckles and his handsome grin. Upon her return, he'd focused on the floor and kept quiet. The changes were difficult to predict.

At least the periods of stillness made it easy for her to reflect, even as those reflections weren't entirely pleasant. She'd had faith in his ability to take care of himself and his judgment to reach out to her if he was in crisis. And while she had no regrets about taking five days to ensure she could sustain their relationship, she lamented the pain it had caused him. She'd detected it in his stiff posture in the kitchen. Seen it in his glistening eyes. Sensed it in his inconsistent reluctance to be touched.

It had been hard for her, too. The absence of their nightly calls, of shared laughter, of his presence had been keen. She would have returned to him without receiving his letter. But the ink on the page, with its occasional misspellings and earnest admissions ("I don't kno if I'm doing this right but I want to try. Maybe you want to try with me, to?") had prompted her to run to the subway before she'd taken off her coat. Confirmed that despite their differences, them being opposite in many ways, their hearts were the same.

He perked up slightly when the next performer came on, an old man from Whitefish, Montana and his paper mache ventriloquist dummy. Y/N's attention drifted to Arthur as he leaned forward onto his knees. Though the act was nothing special - terrible jokes, drinking water while the puppet talked, strumming a ukulele as it sang - his face crinkled in amusement. "They just have regular people on there," he said. "I haven't seen anyone from Gotham. I should try out."

Thankful he was focused on the show and not her, she pursed her lips. Had he forgotten how Murray had gone? Or Pogo's? Then again, he'd believed both had gone great. And she wanted him to succeed. To strive. To dream. His determination impressed her, made her proud. She searched for a truthful but kind answer. "Once you've got a set you're comfortable delivering, sure. Would you send a tape? I have a recorder you can borrow."

"I wrote a lot this week. Not many jokes but I've done some brainstorming." He flicked ash from his cigarette into the pink ashtray on the coffee table. Splayed his fingers and rubbed his palms together. The bob of his Adam's apple was faint in the dim, blue light. "Do you- Do you want to sleep over?" He turned to her.

Elated, she smiled widely and shifted to sit side-saddle. "I'd love to, but I didn't bring any clothes."

"Hold on." He rose from the couch and disappeared into the bedroom. After a minute, she followed to find him digging through a couple of cardboard boxes. Boxes filled with his mother's things, she realized. She'd have to follow-up for details, find out what had happened to ensure the transition would go as smoothly as possible. Though the relationship between him and Penny was complicated, change wouldn't be easy.

He held out a threadbare, light-blue, nylon nightdress with ruffled cap sleeves and a ribbon at the neckline. "Here."

Y/N cocked her head. The gown was exceedingly narrow, its seams stretched. If she had been inclined to wear it, it wouldn't have fit. Arthur's hopeful expression made it plain he did not see the oddity in offering his romantic partner his mother's nightwear. It was logical, she supposed. His years had been spent living hand to mouth. He didn't have any siblings. Hand-me-downs - a spare sweater here, a pair of socks there - would have come from Penny. A tad strange, to be sure. But poverty had a way of making the abnormal normal.

"Thanks," Y/N said. "But I'll be fine in my panties." At his pout, she closed the inches between them. "If you have a t-shirt, I'll take it." His brows lifted and he gave a toothy smile, comprised of surprise and conceit. The shirt he retrieved from the living room was plain and white. The lightly stained armpits didn't bother her, nor did its loose fit. It was part of his work outfit, he explained. And he claimed she looked cute in it.

Her sleep was restful, deep, better than it had been the last two weeks. Arthur being nearby and her certainty when she'd lain her head on his pillow had calmed her. She didn't think about the Wayne Foundation. She didn't worry about how to pursue a future with him. She didn't waste her energy being afraid of powerlessness. Warmth filled her, aided by contentment and cozy blankets.

When the mattress sunk beneath his weight, she didn't check the clock. Judging by the speed with which her drowsiness dissipated and the blackness of the room, it was likely around 4:00 AM. She'd gotten a solid five hours. With a slight stretch and mewl, she blinked up at him. Her elbow accidentally bumped his chest. "Aren't you tired?"

"No." He palmed her shoulder, caution palpable in every movement. Then his caress dragged down her upper arm, hovered over her breast.

She stroked his stubbled cheek. "What are you up to?"

"Making sure you're really here."

It was unclear if he was kidding. The extent of his imaginations or hallucinations - if that's what he experienced - weren't yet known to her. She recalled how he'd clutched her jacket, the way he'd fiddled with her wall calendar and coffee table when he'd come to her for help. Tactility oriented him, as it had her father before the final stages of his diagnosis. And, outside of acute episodes, Loving Someone with... had advised her to carry-on as always.

Laughing gently, she entwined their legs. "Where else would I be?"

"I don't know," he scoffed. He tucked his chin. Silence permeated the room, interrupted only by their exhalations. Eventually, he spoke, his rasp bashful and desperate. "Are you going to leave me again?"

"No." She pressed his hand to her breast, tried to soothe his tremble away. "I like it here."

She could hear his smile in the dark. He dipped his head to capture her lips. He kissed her and kissed her and kissed her again. She kissed him back until she ached with emptiness. Until she felt him hard against her hip.

"Y/N?" he breathed into her mouth.

Her pulse throbbed in her ears. "What?"

His forehead met hers and she shivered all over. "I wanna make you come."

~~~~~

Drip, drip, drip. A calming, predictable sound. The pungent smell of generic brew wafted to his nostrils, slightly burnt but familiar. Coffee. He was making his girlfriend coffee before she went to work. After they'd made love and snoozed until sunrise. After she'd admonished him for smoking in bed, then caressed his flaccid sex and teased him about his "secret freckle." (He'd covered his face in horror and delight and promised himself that one day he'd find a "secret" on her.) He hummed along to the radio, though he disliked the song, and whistled while he filled their cups. Once he'd added three sugars to his and the last of his milk to hers, he padded to the bath. He leaned on the doorframe, an imitation of nonchalance.

In her apparent rush to get to him, Y/N hadn't simply neglected to pack a change of clothing. She was swiping his stick of deodorant under her arms with haste. When she grabbed his comb and tried to tame her hair, he didn't mind. She declined his offer of Penny's eyeliner and mascara but that was fine. She didn't need them, anyway.

As she buttoned her pleated blouse, he giggled. He'd heard jokes about women going to work in identical outfits two days in a row. The innuendo had escaped him until now. A thrill went through him at finally getting the joke. He blushed. "You're dressed the same."

"I left Patricia a message that I'd be late. It won't surprise anyone." She accepted the proffered mug and took a long drink. A mischievous look as she arched a brow. "She'll want details."

Arthur's eyes widened and he rubbed his forehead. This would take getting used to.

She squeezed a line of toothpaste onto her index finger. "What are you doing today? Any gigs?"

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, braced his arm on the wall. "I have to call the hospital. Figure out where to send my mother." He was glad to begin the process of moving on, moving forward. To start building a life of his own. Freed from the woman who hadn't protected him. Paired with the woman who understood him most. Still. He was daunted.

After a few seconds of attempting to brush her teeth, Y/N rinsed her mouth and washed her hands. "The social worker should be able to help. There must be homes specializing in lobotomy patients, given how common they were. Actually..." She stepped to him and wrapped her arms around his middle. "I bet there's an advocacy group for the elderly in Gotham. I'll call around on my break. We can have lunch and review their recommendations."

The tightness in his chest prevented him from holding her gaze. His longings for kindness didn't make it any less peculiar. He hoped he would be able to accept it without skepticism soon, like a normal person. That he wouldn't wait for the other shoe to drop. He tried to fight his negative thoughts rather than give into them.

But he couldn't. Not yet. "Why are you doing this?" he mumbled.

She gave a small shrug, as if what she was about to say wasn't a miracle. "I love you. Why wouldn't I?" Before he could react, she walked to the front door and slipped on her heels. "Besides, we should plan this weekend. Shall We Dance is showing at the Monarch. We could catch it and have dinner at my place. And there's a doctor I found for you - when you're feeling up to it. We'll go over the particulars."

The offer to see the film, one he knew every number of, was an obvious attempt to butter him up for that discussion. It would work. "That sounds nice." He went to her side and took her coat off the wall mounted rack, guided her arms into the sleeves

"Arthur," she started, zipping her jacket. Her pretty eyes met his. "I wasn't going to end our relationship. I don't want you to fear that."

He winced and clutched his hands together, annoyed she had raised the subject again after the wonderful morning they'd shared. "I believe you now."

"Back home, I made mistakes. That's why I needed time." She shook her head. "The thought of repeating them with you..."

Mistakes? What kind of mistakes was she referring to? She'd said her divorce had been mutual. A big fight with her sister or mother hadn't been mentioned. She almost never talked about what had happened with her father, other than to name his diagnosis and state she'd gone on medication. She was a good woman. Whatever she had done, it couldn't be that terrible. Not half as bad as the notions that wormed their way into his brain like a broken record.

Then she continued. "I didn't know what to do then. But I think I do now. " She nuzzled his sideburn and carded her fingers through his hair. "If I see you walking towards a cliff, I won't follow. I'll pull you back before you get there."

He stared at her, blinking rapidly as he tried to hold himself together. Her words felt like the kind of fantasy he'd created to ease his misery. To try to convince himself he should exist another day. That he should stick around. Multiple hospitalizations had proven that hadn't always worked. But this was new. Real. Maybe that reality would allow him, for a little while, to be all right.

He cupped her face, drifted his thumbs over her cheeks. She leaned into him, into the kisses he placed on her brow, her nose, her mouth. His lips parted but all he could manage was a shaky exhale. The press of his face to hers.

She must have noticed he was overwhelmed. It frustrated him - he wanted to find a way to articulate himself. But her peck to his jaw, her hand covering his, made him feel safe. "Meet you at my office at one?"

"Mm-hmm." He nodded into her hair, not quite ready to let go.

Gently, she pulled away from his grasp, took her purse, and opened the door. She smiled. "Call if you need anything."

At that, she strode down the hall in the direction of the elevator. He stepped out and watched until she disappeared around the corridor's corner. He rested against the door and closed his eyes, wishing harder than he ever had before that every morning would be like this for the rest of his life.

~~~~~

Tag list (Let me know if you want to be added!): @harmonioussolve​, @ithinkimaperson​, @sweet-nothings04​, @stephieraptorr​, @rommies​, @fallenstarsabyss​, @gruffle1​, @octopus-plasma​, @tsukiakarinobara​, @arthur-flecks-lovely-smile​, @another-day-in-chuckletown​, @hhandley80​, @jokerownsmysoul​, @mrscarnival​

#arthur fleck #arthur fleck fanfic #arthur fleck x reader #arthur fleck x ofc #arthur fleck x female reader #joker 2019 #watchwhathappens