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“So you’re… not in love with me?”
“Right, I-I’m not — yeah. Not in love with you.”
“Okay…”
“What’s, uh — how do you feel about that?”
“How do I — honestly, Buck, not great.”
“Yeah you look… I don’t know. I wasn’t expecting you to. Look like that.”
“And how am I supposed to look when my best friend anti-confesses his feelings for me?”
“Is that. I don’t think that’s a word.”
“Jesus, Buck.”
“I don’t know, I mean — d-do you want me to be?”
@merthurmicrofic prompt: mpreg words: 442
‘Merlin, what language is this?’
‘Hm?’
‘This word, it doesn't look English, and it's certainly not Brittonic.’
‘How's it spelled?’
‘M-p-r-e-g.’
‘…’
‘Well?’
‘Um. What exactly are you reading?’
‘It’s an internet library or something. An archive.’
‘Do you– are you on Archive of Our Own?’
‘You know it?’
‘I– Yes. I’m… familiar. How on earth did you end up there? I thought you were researching the monarchs that, and I quote, “let Albion fall to greed and squabbling while they sat on their selfish, decorative arses.”’
‘I was. I mean I am! I found a tv show and– Look, what does it matter? Just tell me what it means. This… “mm-preg”?’
‘It’s, uh, it’s pronounced “em-preg,” actually.’
‘Fine, whatever, what does it mean? Is it Scandinavian? Slavic?’
‘It’s English. Sort of. It's an internet slang thing. A sort of contraction– or, I guess more of a portmanteau– of two words, used, in this case, to represent a particular trope popular in fanfiction.’
‘Okay, you’ll explain “fanfiction” to me later, and you definitely threw some French in there, which is low even for you, but I’ll let it slide.
‘Very generous, my lord.’
‘Glad you agree. So what trope is mpreg then?’
‘Sure you don’t want me to explain “portmanteau” instead?’
‘Quite certain. It’s mpreg or bust.’
‘Hey, you’ve been practising your idioms!’
‘I have, and stop changing the subject. Come on, just tell me. It can’t be that bad.’
‘…’
‘Merlin.’
‘Male pregnancy.’
‘…’
‘Arthur?’
‘…Male pregnancy.’
‘Yes.’
‘As in.’
‘Yep, pretty much.’
‘That's not something that's. That's actually. Possible now, is it?’
‘No. There's been some progress in stem cell research that makes it technically possible for a same-sex couple to have a child that’s biologically both partners’, but it hasn't been put into practise yet, and the fetus would still have to be carried by someone with a uterus and associated, um. Bits.’
‘I see. So this is just people’s… fantasies?’
‘Basically.’
‘Huh. Alright then.’
‘…That's it?’
'What's it?’
‘No baffled spluttering? No outraged bluster to cover your confusion? Just a shrug and an “alright then”?’
‘Shut up, Merlin, I neither splutter nor bluster.’
‘Since when?’
‘Fuck off. I suppose I just… get it.’
‘You. Wait, what do you mean?’
‘The fantasy. I get it. If you or I could. You know. Somehow. Carry a child that was both of ours. All blue-eyed and snarky and brave and impossible. I suppose I understand how one might… want to explore that.’
‘…’
‘What? Did I say something wrong? Are you– what are you doing with the laptop– hey, I was reading that!’
‘Shut up. We’re going to the bedroom.’
‘Now?’
‘Now.’
‘Huh. Alright then.’
Sherlock fandom
Complete Deletion
“Greg? Is that what you call yourself nowadays?”
“It’s my name, Sherlock!”
“No, it isn’t.”
“His name is Greg, Sherlock.”
“No, John.”
“I give up. Want another pint, John?”
“Ta, Greg.”
“You can get your own, Sherlock.”
“I don’t drink beer, Gavin. If you had paid attention, you would have known that. Just as you would have known that your name – “
“Shut up, Sherlock!”
“Why is he so agitated, John?”
“Oh, I don’t know, Sherlock. Maybe because you can’t remember his name.”
“He is the one who – “
“Fine. Whatever. Let’s just pretend we never had this conversation, shall we?”
“Impossible, John.”
“Why?”
“I never delete any conversation you are partaking in.”
“Now, you’re just taking the piss, Sherlock.”
“Am not.”
“Fine, then. Tell me what I asked you this morning before I left for work.”
“You asked me to buy milk and eggs.”
“Oh, my God!”
“What? You did.”
“I am aware, Sherlock!”
“So?”
“So, why did I come home to a fridge utterly void of milk and eggs?”
“Because I never went out. If memory serves, I did not acquiesce to procure these items.”
“Christ. Hurry up with my pint, Greg, before I strangle this one!”
“You are so morbid, John.”
“Yeah, wonder where that comes from.”
“Certainly not from fraternising with Giles.”
@merthurmicrofic prompt pages (564 words)
modern AU | domestic life | legal drama meets rom-com
— Arthur, I’m not signing this. — Why? This was your idea, remember? — Yes, I wanted a prenup—but not this. This isn’t a contract. — What? I’ve been working on it for two weeks! And what, exactly, do you know about matrimonial law to make pronouncements like that? — Nothing. But I do know a contract is where two people agree to something—each gives, each gets. And here I don’t give anything. I only receive. Why the hell did I just spend half an hour reading about what a fantastically wealthy widower you’re determined to make me? It’s fifty-seven pages of you trying to hand me everything you own. — That’s not what it is. — It absolutely is. The only things that are “mine” in there are a modest retirement account and my student debt. Why do you want your yacht to go to me if you die? I get seasick in the cabin of a small sightseeing boat. And lifetime membership at some country tennis club? I can’t even toss a shuttlecock properly! — Tennis is played with a ball. You toss a shuttlecock in badminton. — I don’t care what they toss! Shouldn’t your share of the family business—this whole posh-aristocrat lifestyle—go to someone who can actually use it? Your sister, for example. Or… I don’t know. Any of your relatives. And anyway, this isn’t a prenup. It’s a bloody will. — You’re being dramatic. — I’m not —this is practically an invitation to suspect me if anything happens to you. There are four clauses about cheating and bloody forty pages about you dying! Is this some twisted way of telling me you’re terminally ill?
How To Train Your Potter
Monday, March 9th
“Potter, hand me the Willis file, will you?”
“Fuck off, Malfoy, get it yourself.”
Tuesday, March 10th
“Potter, bring me a tea on your way back from your meeting.”
“Get it yourself you lazy git.”
Wednesday, March 11th
“Potter, finish that report for me.”
“I’m not your secretary Malfoy.”
Thursday, March 12th
“Potter, tell Robards I’ll be along to the meeting in a few minutes.”
“Fine.”
Friday, March 13th
“Potter, I’m leaving early, I have a date. Be a dear and file this for me.”
“Who are you going out with?”
Monday, March 16th
“Harry, the canteen was serving treacle tart, I brought you the last slice.”
“Oh, thanks Malfoy.”
Tuesday, March 17th
“Harry, would you cast a detection charm on this book? Yours are so much better than mine.”
“Sure, Malfoy.”
Wednesday, March 18th
“Harry dear, I’d love a cup of tea if it's not too much of a bother.”
“Fine, but only because I was getting myself some anyway.”
Thursday, March 19th
“Harry, can you check this report over for me?”
“I’m sure it's fine Malfoy, your reports are always thorough.”
Friday, March 20th
“Harry, walk with me down to the archives.”
“Okay, let me just grab my notes.”
Monday, March 23rd
“Harry, love, hand me that Moran file.”
“Here you go.”
Tuesday, March 24th
“Harry, love, why don’t you take off your outer robes, you look hot.”
“Good idea.”
Wednesday, March 25th
“Harry, love, send this owl to Gringotts.”
“Sure, Draco.”
Thursday, March 26th
“Harry, my sweet, thank you for the chocolate croissant!”
“I know they are your favorite.”
Friday, March 27th
“Harry, pet, I’ll pick you up tonight at seven.”
“I can’t wait.”
TADC reedraws from the movie....with something extra Ribbit💕(she is sooooo cute)😔
(I hope so—I look like a pirate version of Bugs Bunny)
(Pff, she's right)
(What else can I say? I don't want to look pathetic)
(NEVER in a million years)
(Of course you do—you just want to know more about me. Don't act all innocent with me)
(Fuck, finally)
(...)
"Expect"
Written for @drarrymicrofic weekly prompt "Expect" | 265 words | Summer bingo squares: dialogue-only, mpreg, omegaverse, Azkaban, pureblood culture, rated G
"I don't know what more you want from me, mother." "To do your duty, as all Pureblood heirs must." "And haven't I done just that? Landed the perfect Alpha and gotten him to impregnate me—" "If you think the Potter boy—" "Lucius, please. Let me handle this. Draco, your father and I are grateful. Your union with Harry Potter will do wonders for regaining our rightful place in society, regardless of our personal opinions on his suitability as your mate." "And I suppose it doesn't even matter to you that he makes me happy?" "Happiness is a luxury not every Omega can expect. That you've found it despite the odds, well, as your mother of course that matters." "How could he possibly make you happy? That half-blood knows nothing of our ways." "Unbelievable! You'd both still be in Azkaban if it weren't for Harry. As you both enjoy your own luxuries, I hope you remember it's his mercy that allows you to have even a semblance of the life you think you're owed." "Draco, darling—" "I can't stay and listen to him, mother. I won't. I'm leaving." "Back to that muggle flat, no fit place for my son—" "Lucius, stop it, please. Draco, don't go. Bopsi has made a splendid lunch, and I wanted to show you the orchids that bloomed this morning." "I can't. If you want to be a part of your grandchild's life, I suggest you find a way to let go of this outdated bigotry. We're not raising him like this. When you're ready to change, you know where to find me."
Thanks for the speedy, encouraging alpha @smugrobotics
absolute steal
prompt: ‘steal’ @drarrymicrofic | wc: 145
“Sorry, but what exactly am I getting out of this?”
“Me, of course. Weren’t you listening?”
“You had me running all over the Continent sourcing those rare ingredients for you, and you want to repay me by letting me take you out to dinner.”
“Goodness, no. Don’t be vulgar, Potter. Obviously I’m taking you out to dinner.”
“Oh for God’s—does that seem like a fair deal to you?”
“Oh, yes. It’s an absolute steal.”
“That is not a ‘steal’, Malfoy.”
“Naturally, it’s a long-term investment—you’d be mad to pass it up. But I’m perfectly happy to negotiate, if you’re going to be so demanding.”
“I’m not—! Ugh. Fine. Go on.”
“Two dates a week through the end of July, at which point we’ll discuss a formal courtship. Satisfied?”
“…this would be a date? Really?”
“…Potter, you utter numpty.”
“You didn’t make that clear!”
on ao3
