#Calderon x reader

[thepeculiarauthor]

"CIA this" and "CIA that." Shut up, Case is listening to the Barbie theme song while he drives. 💅🏻

[dearlydevoured]

not proofread. william case calderón . . .

is stuck in bed for days after the emergence mission. his body is still suffering and poor case is left in your care, sat by his bed and watching after him. you give him whatever he asks for — which was usually nothing, so it was more like you got him what you thought he needed. you’d bring water and mystery meals made with a dusty russian cookbook that you barely been able to translate. you were afraid to get near him outside of quick touches the first night but would grow comfortable again, realizing felix’s worry about contagiousness was more of a … felix thing.

case would try to get up the second day, looking like he was two seconds from doubling over on your shoes and still, the man had actually convinced himself that he was okay. you’d firmly press him back down and it’d annoy him, of course. as the miserable minutes in bed passed, case would realize that you are right. it was agonizing to even turn over under the thick blanket; walking around without your assistance is a bit silly. he’d still do it, just to have any extra contact with you. hated to admit it, but in the back of his head he knew he was touch-starved. case would wish for your disgustingly cool palm to linger on his forehead a bit longer and ache for your kisses.

watching him when he slept was the worst. case would often wake up from nightmares, sweaty and gasping for air like a man nearly drowned. it was heartbreaking trying to calm him, softly shushing and reminding the former langley agent it was all over. you’d run your nails along his back with your other hand in his hair – and if you had the courage to get in his bed that night, you’d pull him in to allow case’s face to bury into your neck.

[keekszer0]

PLEASEEEEEEEE FELIX X GN OR MALE READER PLEASEEEEEEE PLEASEEEEEE I CANT TAKE IT ANYMOREEEE IM GOING CRAZY

[aline-the-cat]

I'm starting to play Call of duty Black Ops 6, and if I don't see Adler x Case, Adler x Woods, Case x Marshall or Woods x Felix content by the end of the month I'm gonna riot

[wisepainterperson]

I've been working diligently on this, I recently reread the Andromeda six visual novel and wanted to make a self insert fan fiction my goal is to get 100k words. It's different from the original plot of the game but has all the characters interacting with reader, traveler is mentioned in past tense. Please let me know what you think 🤔

Multidimensional babe (androme six fanfic)

you find yourself in the andromeda six crew by pure accident after your attempted murder. now trying to find a way back to your dimension will you even want to go back when its time to go home

https://www.quotev.com/story/15477278/Multidimensional-babe-androme-six-fanfic

https://archiveofourown.org/works/44374645

[siribaes]

IN OUR PAST LIVES ( Part 1 )

Dario Sepúlveda x blackfem!reader (OC — Nina Fuentes)

“During his quest to find Griselda, Dario reunites with an old friend in Miami—”

PARING: Friend/ “Former Client” to Lovers

SUGGESTED TUNES💿: Mack the Knife (cover) by Tito Puente, La Plena Bomba Me Llama by Celia Cruz & Tito Puente, Yerbero Moderno by Celia Cruz, Abayarde by Tego Calderon, Una Noche Mas by Yasmin Levy

CONTENT: 18+ MDNI, SMUT, Cursing, Some racist language/ideologies (reference to La Perra Negra & the story takes place in late 1970s so you know, not the most foward-thinking of times), the main character is a sex worker, use of the Spanish language, star-crossed lovers-esque elements, references to death, drugs, trafficking, Cartel activities, or*l (fem & alluded to male receiving), f*ngering, praise k*nk, Fluff, Dario being lowkey a soft boy, *Unedited/Not Proofread

AUTHORS NOTE: uhmmm who else has seen alberto guerra in griselda??? 👀 it’s a great show highly recommend everyone go watch! alberto being shirtless is just an added bonus, so basically this is slightly AU-ish in this fic dario travels back to miami twice (i think i can’t remember lol) before “finding” griselda—full stop bc spoilers but yeah. the OC is a former sex worker, and Afro-Colombian/Latina (faceclaim is Yaya DaCosta <3), but yeah i hope y’all enjoy :) 💖

Medellín, Colombia - Spring 1976 (The Past)

The weather was in a particularly odd flux. For most of the day, heat raged on like an unrelenting wave, the weatherman reported scorching temperatures, a whopping, almost record breaking 101 degrees. Medellin quickly became a ghost-town, people sought refuge from the unbearable temperatures. The heat trickled its way into the evening, until around 9 or so, storm clouds suddenly swirled the sky, then, boom, a torrential downpour. The rain came down in violent pelts, hitting everything and anything insight. However, as quickly as the storm came, it went. The temperatures went down, the rain aided in crispness in the air. The wind swept through the streets and neighborhoods of Medellin, with coolness and airiness that was necessary, relieving.

Relief was exactly what Nina needed.

With the scorching temperatures, it brought a particular irritation with her clientele. It was like the hotter it became, the meaner they were. One of her regulars, Mr. Moneybags (an older gentleman, who happened to be very, very, generous with his wealth.), who was severely punctual and only wanted oral. He was never rude, impatient or rough with her. Until today. He was late, storming into her room, barking orders for her get on her knees, and when Nina finally did give him what he wanted, all Mr. Moneybags could ramble on about was high rough day at the office and he needed to tame "La Perra Negra". To make matters worse, when Mr. Moneybags orgasmed, he cummed on her shirt (a brand-new halter top, made of fine silk and in the prettiest shade of coral, it wasn't cheap, it cost her 78 pesos.) and in her hair (pillowy-soft coils as someone told her once). That was a complete, no, no.

Mr. Moneybags was the first of her clients to receive a verbal lashing, but he wasn't the last. As the hours rolled by, each man arriving acting more brutish and egregious than the last. Nina handed out her lashings with ease, all for her to be met with the same insult, fuck you, Perra Negra. The heat only fueled her rage, so much that the one customer, who had some semblance of decorum, went soft in her mouth. He quickly scurried out, offering a sympathetic smile, and promised that he'll come back next week, when she felt better.

So, when the storm came, Nina was more than relieved. She got some reprieve from her finnicky clients, even though her room was tucked away on the further corner of the brothel, the rain seemed to drown out the noise from the other end of the compound. She was able to soak her stresses away in her tub, light a candle or two, slip on her favorite mini-silk robe, and actually rest. The raindrops served as a lullaby from Nina as she drifted off to sleep.

Now, at 2 AM, Nina sat in a chair on her small balcony. She people-watched from her small corner, relishing in the cool breeze the generously fanned over her skin. She more than deserved this peace and stillness after the shit she had to deal with. After a while, Nina became engrossed in this older couple blocks away, were dancing in the middle of the street. She was so enraptured with the couple she didn't even hear the door creep open.

A familiar scent drifted through the air, a blend of cinnamon, tobacco, cardamom, and strangely mint. Nina couldn't help the smile the curled onto to her lips, as heavy footsteps inched closer and closer.

"You left the door open,"

Nina smirked. "What if I left it open for you,"

"Hm. That's unlike you,"

Nina turned around meeting those soft, russet-colored eyes, she cared to enjoy so much. She playfully batted her eye lashes.

"Oh, Dario, you mustn't forget, you are my favorite customer," Nina purred. She rose from her seated position, and unabashedly took in Dario's appearance.

He was meticulously dressed, he wore neatly ironed, black slacks with a coordinating black dress shirt. A few buttons were undone, revealing a sliver of warm-tawny skin, and the ink-colored edges of a tattoo. Nina wondered sometimes what the fully tattoo would look like, or better, would she ever get to see it.

From the first night they met, Nina gathered that Dario was someone who took pride in their appearance. He was never sloppy, not a flick of dirt or dust sullied his clothes or shoes. Thick, brown tresses were combed and quaffed with care, while he maintained neatly trimmed facial hair. Even the way Dario carried himself was equally irresistible, he possessed a poise and calmness that was developed, cultivated, even. He was careful with his words, never speaking out of turn or without thought. He charmed his way into people's hearts, both old and young alike.

Dario was a true debonair. It was the perfect distraction from what he truly was, a hit man. El Sicario.

"You look thirsty," Nina strutted past Dario to the small bar along the wall inside, "Would you like a drink?"

''Not tonight,"

Nina tsked, "Where's the fun in that? You can't just humor me, I've had a terrible day and--"

"Enough Nina," She paused to looked over her shoulder at him. His brows were furrowed, as looked intensely at Nina. After a beat, Nina turned a back around, pouring some tequila in a glass. She turned back around, gesturing for Dario to speak. "I'm looking for someone," Dario pulled a photo out of his front pocket.

"Aren't you always," Nina sassed. She couldn't help it, she was enjoying seeing Dario a bit peeved, it was so refreshing to see, even Dario, el sicario himself, could be annoyed.

He shows her the photo, "Vincent Fernandez, you know him?"

Nina scans the picture, taking in the face of the man.

"Yes and no," Dario's eyebrow quirks, "His real name is Vincent, but nobody calls him that. He goes by Chuy,"

"Okay...Chuy, have you seen him?"

"Yeah, a few weeks ago. He was coming out of Carmen's room...now that I think about it, she was leaving with him. She carried a suitcase too. Haven't seen her since,"

Immediately, Dario balled up the picture, flinging at the wall. He began to pace and back forth, his left handed raked through his hair, messing up that of that beautiful handiwork.

Something thrummed inside of Nina as she watched Dario slowly lose composure. Dario’s beautiful features were twisted with frustration, his jaw was clenched, and eyes were blazed. He stopped pacing and stood next to a small coffee table with vase that sat on top. With hesitation, Dario snatched the vase and launched it at the wall. Ceramic shards exploded on impact, pieces flew everywhere in the process.

"FUCK!"

"What the hell is your problem!?" Nina rushed over, she brushed past him, and picked up a broken piece of the vase, "Fuckin' pendejo, this was a gift from a friend," She was seething, gearing up to cuss him out to fullest extent but she paused. On one of the broken pieces with a red speck. Nina's eyes drifted towards the floor, seeing a trail of red spots, the spots grew larger and larger, until there was a small pool of blood underneath Dario's hand. "...You're bleeding,"

"What?" Dario one step but Nina quickly stopped him.

"Stop! Stop, it's getting all on the floor. Go to the bathroom and rinse the cut. When your done there's a first aid kit and a bottle of peroxide in cabinet, grab it, and sit on the couch," Dario just stood there a bit lost in his eyes, "Vete! Go, now!"

Dario disappeared into the bathroom, leaving Nina in the mess he created.

---

"This is going to sting so keep still," The two sat next to each other on the couch. In one hand, Nina gently cradled Dario's hand, his wounded palm facing up. The other hand held a cotton ball soaked in Hydrogen peroxide. She slowly inched the ball towards the cut, when it the skin, Dario instantly hissed, moving his hand slightly. Nina pressed again, trying to be a bit softer than before, but Dario jerked his hand away again. Nina swatted at his stomach. "Ay! Stop moving,"

Dario finally complied, relaxing against her touch, letting her clean the cut. A quietness fell over them as Nina worked in a comfortable rhythm of wiping and dabbing.

"I'll make sure to pay for the vase," Nina stopped, looking up at Dario. There was a sincerity in his eyes, and something else...embarrassment maybe? "The least I could do, since you put up with shit all the time..."

Nina bit the inside of her cheek to keep herself from smiling, at Dario's gesture. She said nothing in return, but instead sat the used cotton balls to the side and reached for the roll of bandages. Nina couldn't make heads or tails of how she felt about Dario right. One part of her was agitated with him with how he broke her vase and how edgy he was being towards her all of the sudden. The other part of her was attracted to Dario, something about him losing control like that revved her engine. For once he wasn't so controlled and calculated, he was human, flaws and all.

"I know I'm not supposed to ask, but, why are you looking for Chuy?" Nina asked, slowly wrapped the bandages around Dario's hand.

To Nina's surprise, he answered. "He took something that didn't belong to him,"

"...Oh. Oh," Nina nodded realizing what Dario what he meant. Chuy had to have stolen a kilo or two of coke from them. Everyone in Medellin knew stealing from the Bravo family was a guaranteed death sentence. "Shit, I should've known..."

Dario shook his head. "It's not on you. The sneaky bastard managed to fool all of us, especially me,"

Nina chuckled nervously as she tucked the last strip of the bandage underneath a bottom layer.

"All finished," She slowly let go of Dario's hand to gather and put back her supplies, "I would give it a day before checking the cut to see if its healing. Just try to keep it your hands clean the best you can,"

Dario nodded. "Thank you,"

Nina smiled gently at him. She could feel his eyes on her as she bounced around and out of the room disposing of the trash and putting her supplies back. When she came back into the room, she found Dario relaxed against the couch looking outside. She followed his gaze up to the night sky. The normal starry, ink-colored sky was now filled with stormy clouds.

"It's going to rain again," Nina murmured, she returned to her spot next to Dario.

"How'd you figure?"

Nina pointed to the sky. "The clouds. Plus, the air is getting thick...y'know humidity,"

Dario laughed, flashing those gorgeous pearly whites, making Nina's heart skip a beat. He quickly quieted as a look of curiosity filled his expression.

"Where'd you learn to do that kind of stuff...like patch people up?"

"I guess I got tired of getting rug burns and bruises on my knees from giving head so much. It's bad for business,"

"That's fucked up,"

Nina shrugged. "It's a part of the job. I have to be perfect and presentable at all times. It's what sells the fantasy. So, I had to become my own doctor, learn how to patch myself up. I also learned, that if I was on my knees for too long, all the time, I wasn't doing my job correctly.

Dario tipped his head, scratching at his goatee, "Where the guys always that rough with you?"

"Someone is mighty curious tonight," Nina teased. She twirled a coil round her pointer finger, "but, to answer your question, no. Some tried to, but I was always on guard. I had to be, I'm the only black girl here...La Perra Negra. Before my regulars, most of the guys thought because I’m black, a morenita, that's I wanted. It took some threats and me pulling out my switch blade a couple of times, but they got the picture. Sometimes I feel bad for them...they’re so caught up in fucking me as a conquest, and not for their own pleasure. Typical men,"

Dario's brow quirked. "Typical?"

"You know what I mean. Most men when they have sex are either caught up in some ego thing, or only focus on pleasuring themselves they don't bother in pleasuring their partners, especially if the partner is a woman,"

"I suppose you're right,"

"You suppose? Do you feel the opposite?”

"Not entirely. You do have a point…I guess I’m not most men. I like pleasuring my woman,” Dario rasped. His pink tongue swiped at his bottom lip before continuing, “It turns me on to see her lose..composure ‘cause I’m fuckin’ her so good. I dunno it just gets me there. I could never get hard or cum without doing so,”

From the tops of Nina's ears all the way to the bottoms of her manicured toes, she ran hot. Her mind raced with flashes of images of her and Dario in the nastiest of scenarios. If she wasn't sure about being attracted to Dario, this solidified it. Despite her growing need to literally lunge herself at him, she pulled back. She needed to make him sweat.

"I guess there's some room for exceptions," Nina hummed, she readjusted herself, re-crossing her legs, make sure to give him a quick flash of her lacy panties. She secretly thanked her Orishas, when she saw Dario's eyes wander to her thighs.

"I had customer the other day," Nina continued, "Sweet guy, couldn't fuck to save his life, so I suggested get on top. I thought riding him would be better, but it wasn't. So, in a last-ditch effort, I closed my eyes and imagined it someone else..."

"Who did you imagine?"

"...You. I imagined you underneath me, fucking me. I fantasized about those beautiful brown eyes staring up at me. How it would feel to have your hands on me...all the things those hands could do. Like would you pull my hair, or grip my hips so hard that I would have bruises? Or, would you smack my ass while you stroked, deep inside me...even better would you hold my hands behind my back, while you played with my clit? Then, like magic, I came...I don't think I've cum so hard in my life—”

He cut her off with kiss. It was gentle and sweet. As Dario moved his lips, he gingerly swept his tongue against Nina’s lips savoring her taste. He snaked his arms around Nina’s waist, drawing her closer to him. A small whimper escaped Nina as Dario’s hands roamed her body. She felt her body hum with need as he rubbed and squeezed at her flesh. A smarting slap from Dario caused Nina to mewl breaking the kiss.

“Fuck! Dario,” Nina whined. She leaned her forehead against Dario’s. She pulled back to see Dario’s face fully, her heart rattled against her chest as she ran her fingers through his hair.

“Mi hermosa mariposa," Dario murmured, hands drifted up and down the sides of Nina's torso. She felt a wetness begin to pool beneath her, the more Dario caressed her.

“I want you,”

Dario smiled softly. “Yeah?”

“Mhm,” Nina nodded her hands reaching for Dario’s belt buckle, but he stopped her.

“It’s not about me tonight,” he hoisted her up, wrapping her legs around him as he carried Nina to bed. Dario dropped her softly down the plush sheets. “It’s all about you,”

Nina could tell from the serious yet lustful glint in his eyes that Dario meant every word he said. She sat up on her elbows watching as Dario’s nimble fingers undid the belt of her robe. He pushed the fabric, revealing nothing but soft curves, rich brown skin and lacy fabric. With his pointer finger, Dario traced Nina's collar bone, dragging it down her navel, leaving a trail of goosebumps the further down he went. Nina's breath hitched in her throat as Dario's thumbs rubbed soft circles on the skin above the waistband of her panties.

"I like the way your eyes light up when I touch you, solecita,"

"Please, Dario. Enough games,"

Dario chuckled. He held her hips in place, sinking down to his knees.

"Patience," Dario held his gaze as he inched his head closer to Nina's clothed pussy. The two moaned in unison when Dario licked a stripe at Nina's clothed entrance. He continued on licking, probing, and mouthing her pussy. Moans fell helplessly from Nina's lips as she felt the lacy fabric rub against her clit. Dario relentlessly moved his tongue, spurring Nina on, she felt slick dripping downwards on her thighs.

"More. I need more, baby, please,"

It was like switch went off in Dario. He stopped all movement, as he just stared at Nina. Long eyelashes fluttered as he slowly blinked.

"Baby...say that again," he murmured.

"Baby," Nina cooed. She sat up, reaching for Dario, she cupped his cheek. He nuzzled her cheek, placing a kiss on her palm.

Then like a flash, Dario ripped Nina's panties a part. He skillfully gathered the torn shreds and flung them away. He dove straight for Nina's pussy. Despite his meticulous nature, when it came to pleasure Dario was sloppy. There was no spot or area left unattended. His tongue alternating between swirling and lapping Nina's clit. Dario's pace was so unrelenting, it sent Nina's body into throws of pleasure. Just when she felt the familiar coil in her belly, Dario pulled back, only to blow cooly onto her drenched pussy.

"B-baby, fuck!" Nina yelped aloud, her hands found themselves back into Dario's hair, as he returned back to her core.

He placed a wet kiss, creating a lewd smacking noise that echoed into the air. Dario dove back in, plunging his expertly skilled tongue into her entrance, fucking her. Nina felt like her entire body was on fire, completely blazed with pleasure as Dario relentlessly fucked her pussy. Her mind swirled feeling the familiar coil in her stomach become tighter and tighter.

"I-I'm gonna cum. Oooh shit," Nina panted. She pulled tighter at Dario's hair. "I'm c-cuming, fuckkkk!"

The coil snapped. Nina shakily thrusted her hips towards Dario's mouth, riding out her orgasm. Dario stayed still softly lapping up her cum, he did keep gentle hand on Nina's waist to steady her.

"Mhmmm, so good to me, baby, s'good," Nina loosen her grip on Dario's tresses, letting her arms fall back onto the bed.

Dario hummed appreciatively before pressing soft kisses on Nina's inner thighs. Her fluttered when she saw the slick sheen of her nectar glistening in Dario's mustache and goatee.

"You like when I'm good to you?" Nina could feel his grip on her thighs get tighter as he spoke. When Nina nodded instead replying, Dario slapped her thigh. "Words, Nina, I wanna hear you,"

"Yes!"

"Good. You gonna be good for me this time?" Nina hissed when two of Dario's fingers found her clit, rubbing taut circles.

"Yessss, I'll be good for you, baby!"

He quickly switched his technique, he plunged his fingers into her wetness. Nina whined at the squelching and lewd noises that her pussy made as Dario stroked in and out of her. Dario bent down and gave Nina searing hot kiss, he wedged his tongue inside of Nina's mouth, allowing her to taste herself.

"Please don't stop,"

"I won't mi amor, I can feel you...you close?"

"So close, baby, please,"

Dario slowed his pace down, giving Nina slower strokes, but drove deeper, and deeper every time. Her walls fluttered around his fingers when they met her oh so sweet spot. Nina's orgasm came swiftly as a fast-moving freight train. Her mind went blank, as she screamed out in pleasure. Nina's legs jerked and spasmed as her nectar flowed out in endless droves. Dario slowly slipped his fingers out, kissing the side of Nina's face as she reveled in the planes of ecstasy.

The two fell back into the bed. Nina snuggled up close to Dario's side, her fingers still tingly, traced the ink of his half-covered up tattoo. She looked out to the balcony. It was raining.

"I think we knew each other in our past lives..." Dario trailed, he kept his eyes towards the ceiling as spoke.

"As what? Enemies?" Nina teased.

"No," He sighed deeply, turning to meet her eyes. His face was open, vulnerable, Nina felt her heart flutter. "We were...something to each other, I know it..."

For the second time this night a quietness fell over them. They stared wordlessly at one another, as the raindrops lightly pelted outside. Nina didn't know what to make of Dario's sudden confession, or revelation. She did know that the way he looked at her in this moment, made her feel all mushy and gooey inside. Nina leaned in capturing Dario's lips into a passionate kiss.

"You know what I know," Nina purred parting from Dario's lips. She straddled him, reaching for his belt buckle, this time Dario didn't stop her. "Reciprocity...Can I have some more, baby?"

"Yes. Mi amor, in every lifetime."

[twola]

I always hate like “requesting” something because it feels like a forceful “write this for me now!” kind of thing, but a I’ve always had this smutty idea in my head where Arthur is getting a little weaker from the TB, but is also pinning after some cute girl in camp. Some wooing occurs and things start getting steamy~ but it’s her first time or she’s not super experienced. I feel like HH!Arthur would try to be the gentleman to show her a sweet, gentle time, but wouldn’t have the stamina for missionary, so his partner would pick up where he leaves off by riding him like the work horse he is. I just thin the scenario would be perfect for like sexy words of encouragement (def NOT thinking of his mare voice lines *wink wink wink*) plus Arthur getting taken care of too instead of just doing the caring. I have like 0 writing skills tho lol so if you ever found yourself in need of smutty I soo I would feel HONORED for you to bring my nasty Arthur thoughts to life

Ooh, TB whumpy smut… I’m sensing a pattern here. My poor boah, how I love to torture him…

This was a good one! Still working on a few more. I love and thrive on feedback so drop me a line if you liked it.

Regret Me Not

Arthur Morgan x F!Reader Smut (18+), MDNI

➵ Fic Masterlist ➵ AO3 Link

Regrets seem to take up much of his headspace these days... But for one regret of his, Arthur takes action with a little bit of urging on your part.

Arthur wheezes, covering his mouth with the back of his palm, the wet, hacking noise that scrapes out of his throat as he sits on the boulder south of Beaver Hollow, out of earshot of the camp. 

Not that he needed people’s stares. He looks terrible enough that he gets looks of pity from the women, avoided by the men - and Dutch? Well, he is living in another reality.

Another cough rips through him, as he feels as if he were drowning within his own body. A small hand lands on his back. He looks up, rubbing his mouth with the back of his sleeve.

You stand over his shoulder, rubbing gently, concern alight in your eyes. You look down and dig into the pockets of your skirts.

“Here.” You say with a small smile, handing him a bottle of tonic.

He coughs again, butchering his thanks, as he takes the bottle from your hands, uncorking it quickly and downing the foul-tasting liquid quickly.

“How are you feeling?” You ask quietly, hand still resting on his shoulder, slowly, gently rubbing circles into his upper back.

Arthur wants to lean wholly into your touch. He wants to wrap himself into you and let you card your fingers through his hair. He wants to rest. He wants to sleep.

He wants, he wants - but alas. None of that was possible.

“Like hell.” He grits out hoarsely, tossing the empty bottle to the dirt at his feet.

“I’m sorry, Arthur.” You say softly. Your other hand moves to his back as well, rubbing at his other shoulder.

“ ‘S alright.” He murmurs, not wanting to let on how good your hands feel on him.

A silence settles in, and you rub at his shoulders for a few moments more before drawing your hands away from him.

“Well… I just wanted to check on you. See how you’re doin’. I’ll see you later, Arthur.” You say, and he can hear the crunch of gravel under your boot as you turn on your heel. You begin to walk up the path back toward camp, as he turns and follows you with his gaze over his shoulder.

Arthur wants. In the embracing of his mortality, the facade of propriety and the painstakingly built walls around his heart crumble in the face of his own death.

He has watched you for months. Yearned for months, wanted and needed your attention, always too self-conscious to reach out and touch.

Sister Calderon’s words echo in his ears with each step you take away from him.

“Take a chance that love exists.”

“D-do you wanna get outta here?”

His voice is hoarse, almost weak sounding. Nothing of the man that he used to be.

You stop, turning around, a small smile creeping across your face. “God, get outta this hell hole? Absolutely. Anywhere is better than these hills.”

His heart hopes.

“I gotta go grab some mail from Van Horn. Ain't much better though…”

“It ain’t here, Mister Morgan. Let’s go.”

—

Van Horn is just as decrepit as the last time he was here. Falling apart and full of the dregs of society, left behind by the churning wheel of progress. He mirthfully counts himself as one of them, he supposes.

He tucks the letters he retrieved into his satchel, moseying slowly toward the back of the dock, where you stand with your elbows on the railing, gazing at the river’s lazy waters. Northward, toward the mountains and the river’s origins.

“Y’ready there, ma’am?”

You look back at him but don’t move. “Already? Ugh. Camp’s just so…”

Arthur sidles up next to you, placing his own elbows on the railing, grunting in agreement. You didn’t need to go any further, he knew where you were going with your comment.

The camp was… well, a gloom has settled upon it. Dutch acting irrational, angry. The loss of Hosea and Lenny. Running from Pinkertons.

And his own impending demise, of course.

“What’re you gonna do after?” Arthur asks quietly and notices the stuttering breath you take as your shoulders drop a little.

“I… I don’t know. I don’t have much else than this.”

Arthur hangs his head, taking in a deep breath. A breath that seems to barely fill his ailing lungs, and he coughs slightly under the rim of his hat.

“Y’got a good head on you. You’ll do fine.” He grits out, voice hoarse.

You remain silent, your eyes set on the water of the slow-flowing river. A boat chugs southbound, heading toward Saint Denis.

“I don’t know how I’ll fare being alone.” You softly murmur.

He sighs. “I’m sure you can stay with Abigail or Missus Adler. Or Charles. You got people to watch out for you.”

“But not you.”

A pang, a sharp pain shoots through his chest, above and beyond the near-constant constriction of his lungs.

“No. Not me.”

You look up at him, a sheen of wetness over your eyes. It pains him as he looks back.

A tear rolls down your face and it’s everything he is not to lean over and cup your face in his hands and wipe your tears away.

“Sweetheart, you deserve-”

“Don’t. Don’t tell me what I deserve, Arthur Morgan.” You spit out, tears openly running down your cheeks.

Arthur sighs, looking back down at the water. It is murky, muddy, dirty right under the dock. Just like this damn town.

You push yourself into his surprised embrace, clutching at his shirt, and it takes him a moment to realize that this wasn’t a dream, and he winds his arms around you, pulling you against him.

“I wish you would stop hiding from me.” You whisper as he holds you to his chest, your cheek pressed against his breastbone, probably hearing the crackling failure of his lungs with each breath he takes.

He doesn’t know how to answer that. For years now, it’s been easier for him to keep that urn with the remains of his heart buried from all.

“I’m here… I’m here now.” He murmurs, resting his chin atop your head.

“I’ve been waitin’ for you, Arthur. Waitin’ and wishing for you to ask me to be yours.” You bury yourself in his embrace.

Fuck.

Arthur’s resolve cracks like a piece of porcelain.

“I’m just a fool. A fool for making you wait.”

You shudder against him, digging your fingers into his shirt, and your breath stutters as you try to stifle a sob. Pulling away, you look up at him, his bloodshot, sunken eyes, still the blue-green pools you would drown in.

You lean up on your toes, arms winding around his neck, but he turns his face away as you draw closer. 

“No. I ain’t gettin’ you sick too.”

You frown, glassy-eyed, about to draw your arms from him before he leans down and presses his lips to your cheek, again and again, moving up toward your ear.

“But…. I’ll give you whatever else it is you want.” He rumbles, arms wound tight around you, his body arcing over yours.

You shiver in his embrace, pulling your head back ever so slightly to look him in the eye.

“I want whatever you’re willing to give me.” You whisper, hands moving up and clutching at his collar.

He leans his forehead against yours. “If you want a dying, washed-up gunsling-”

You interrupt, pressing up on your toes and kissing his cheek, “I want you, Arthur Morgan. I’ve wanted you for so long.”

So long.

So long.

Goddamnit. He’s been looking at you, yearning for you, for months. Before Blackwater and ferries and being chased by Pinkertons. Before Dutch became erratic, before all of these complications. When he was chasing tumbleweeds across the wild and open west.

He gives a shuddering sigh, and draws you closer, pulling you to him and placing his lips on the long line of your neck. You whimper as he pulls a bit of your pale skin between his teeth, suckling on it, hoping to leave a mark.

You throw your arms completely around his shoulders and begin to pant in his ear. Whimpers turn to whines as one of his large hands moves down from your waist to clench roughly at your rear, drawing you against his pelvis and his rapidly hardening cock.

“A-Arthur - please -” You moan, rubbing yourself against him, and he regretfully draws his mouth away from your skin, pink-tinged and wet from his attentions.

As much as he’d love to turn you around, throw up your skirts, and press himself into you for the sake of time, he knows you deserve more than that.

“Lemme get a room.” He pants, letting go of you, moving to adjust himself in his trousers. “Go on upstairs.”

You pull at the collar of your blouse to hide the evidence of your indiscretion and quietly nod, moving past him and slowly climbing the rickety stairs to the second story of the decrepit building. 

He quickly pays for a room, and grabs the key from the clerk with a dismissive grunt, hurrying his way up the stairs to find you leaning against the second-story railing, waiting for him. 

Arthur jams the key into the door’s lock, pushing it open, and lumbering into the room, where he immediately sheds the repeater strapped to his back and places it on the worn table next to the door. His gunbelt follows as you step inside, closing and locking the door behind you. 

He places his hat atop the pile of guns on the table, looking back at you.

“Still want to do-”

You cut him off by closing the distance between you and throwing your arms around his waist.

He pulls you toward the bed, and places his hands on your waist, holding you still, as he sits on the bed, the worn frame creaking under his weight. He doesn’t spare it a second thought, eyes trained on you, and he gently pulls you to sit in his lap.

You cup his cheek gently, thumb tracing along his beard that he’s kept longer to hide the gauntness of his cheeks. His large hand lands on your thigh, squeezing it as he presses his face into the hollow of your neck.

You gasp as you feel his tongue on your skin, clutching at his shirt as you tilt your head back.

You shiver again as his hand creeps up under your skirt, finger gently rubbing against the seam of your bloomers, which dampens quickly under his ministrations.

“It's been a while,” He grunts out, unable to stop his hips from bucking up against your legs with you seated in his lap, the long line of him chasing your warmth.

“M-me too. Ain’t since-” you mewl into his ear as his fingers push your bloomers to the side and brush against the damp skin of your core, “some stable boy when I was sixteen- ahh - we - we didn’t know what we was doin’.” You gasp out as his pointer finger, thick and strong, dips inside your entrance, sheathing to the knuckle within your cunt.

He slides another finger inside you, groaning against your hair when he realizes how tight you are, clutching desperately at his digits, imagining how good you would feel surrounding his cock.

“I’ll be good to you,” He grits out, crooking his fingers within you.

“Oh-” You gasp, “I know, I know you will, Arthur.”

Arthur pulls you from his lap and lays you on the bed next to him, and immediately starts to shed his clothing, tossing it into piles on the floor as you join him, skirts and shirts thrown from the bed, a union suit and chemise - your bloomers land on the floor and he quickly climbs atop you, spreading your legs and fitting his hips in the cradle of yours.

In this old, dirty bed in this old, dirty room, he swears he has never seen something so beautiful as you sprawled out beneath him, the rise and fall of your breathing, the blush crawling down your cheeks to your neck, spreading out across your chest, to your pink nipples, pebbling as they are exposed to the cool air.

He leans down, balancing himself on his forearms, finding that spot on your neck again and nibbling at it, while one of his hands works its way to the space between you, grasping his hard cock and stroking it as he presses the swollen head against your core.

You mewl as he presses in, the head of his cock entering you, his hand moving from its base to frame your head again.

“God, you’re perfect.” He groans as he starts to press himself inside, inch by inch disappearing into your wet warmth, your panting high and fast in his ear as he suckles on your neck once again.

He thrusts, gently, and his hips press against yours as he’s buried himself to the hilt in your cunt. You mewl out a high whine, nails digging into his shoulder.

Arthur presses himself up slightly, looking down upon you. His fingers begin playing with the curling hairs at your temple, waiting for you to open your eyes, a sign that you’re used to his length and girth within you.

And when you do, he’s stricken. Your eyes flutter open and you inhale a breath with a sweet sigh. God, for once in his damn life, he’s doing something right.

Your arms wind around his neck as you press your lips to his cheek, he knows that you want to taste him, to mold your lips together and moan into each other’s mouths - he wants that too, but it’s a step too far. He’s already half afraid of spreading his sickness to you.

Arthur thrusts, gently still, but faster and harder than he had been, you squeal in delight, which spurs him into finding a rhythm, his body moving over yours.

He grunts, panting as he moves his hips, fucking into you and pressing you down into this old, uncomfortable mattress. He swears he’ll bring you to some nice hotel in Saint Denis and make love to you on a plush expensive mattress-

A constriction in his chest stops him mid-thrust.

He pants, wheezing, his hips slowing as he struggles to catch his breath. Christ, what a sorry excuse for a man he is - can’t even please a woman in the state he’s in.

You gently push on his shoulder, and he has the stamina, at least, to raise himself up and look upon you, cheeks blazing in shame.

“Here, maybe I should get on top?” You ask, your hand cupping his cheek while the other gently lays upon his chest.

He groans at the thought, his traitorous cock twitching as he’s buried in your cunt, causing you to gasp out. 

“Alrigh’,” Arthur grunts, and steadies his knees while he pulls his hands to you: one beneath your lower back, one below your shoulder blades. In a jumble of limbs and skin, he rolls over, somehow keeping himself sheathed in you until you’re splayed atop him, your small hips spread out over his.

He has to admit, this was a good idea you had, even before you think to move, what a sight he’s given. His cock fully enveloped in your hips, the dark thatch of hair between your thighs mixing with the curls at his base. Up, up the curves of your waist, he trails his hands, gently skimming your sweat-slicked skin. Your breasts, small yet perky, he’s enraptured by the way your nipples pebble as he rubs his thumbs over them, the sweet sigh that leaves your lips as your head falls back.

God almighty, you’re the sweetest thing alive.

Your hands find purchase on his chest, fingers pulsing, as you roll your hips once over him. His breath stutters, eyes widening as inches of him leave you, only to gently return moments later.

“G-good?” You ask, a self-conscious fear in your eyes.

His hands clamp on your waist and help to guide your movement.

“So good, you’re so good.” He rasps, the end of his lips curling up into a smile.

You smile back, rolling your hips again, taking him and out, following the pathway to your own pleasure and dragging him along for the ride. 

Your murmuring devolves into gasping moans as you continue to gyrate above him, squeezing your eyes shut, your fingers spread wide over his pectorals.

“That’s it. You’re alright, girl.” He urges, one hand moving from your hip to where you’re joined, his thumb parting your folds just above where he’s speared into you.

You moan aloud, giving no qualm to volume as he circles and presses against that little nub of pleasure.

“C’mon, sweetheart, you’re almost there.” He whispers as his hips jut upward into yours, he can see the far-off look in your eyes, the way your lips hang open, the shortness of your breath, and the slightly painful way your fingers are clenching into his chest. He can tell, your pulsing, squeezing, sweet little cunt is so close.

You ride him fast, like a horse at a gallop, and that blooming lava in his gut churns in a way that he knows he’s not far behind.

“A-Ar…” You stutter as your eyes close tightly.

“That’s it, that’s it, Darlin’.” He urges, his other hand tight on your hips, aiding your movement.

“Agh, oh god - Arthur.” You moan out, bottoming out completely as you throw your head back. He groans aloud as he feels your muscles constrict around his shaft, the sweet clutch of your cunt.

He thrusts his hips upward again and is rewarded with the sweetest mewl from your mouth, he cannot help but to whimper as he feels warm, wet slick start to seep from where you’re joined, his swollen and heavy balls covered in them.

You recover, gasping as your hands move to his chest, your hips grinding down on him slowly.

“I wanna-” you pant, catching your breath, “I wanna make you come.”

Arthur groans in response, hips bucking upward as his hands fly to your hips again, clenching them hard.

“Ain’t gonna- augh- ain’t gonna be hard to give you that.” He stutters out, knowing that the pull in his gut is getting stronger with each sweet movement you make.

“You’re so good -” You mewl, rolling your hips over him as he grunts, hands sure on your waist, fingers pulsing as his eyes flutter closed, his mouth hanging open as he approaches that precipice.

“You feel just like I’ve always dreamed.” You sigh, and all he can respond with is a thrust upward of his hips, to give you more, to give you himself, all that’s left of him.

He’s there, he’s there. His eyes shoot wide and he grunts, hands hard over your hips. “Get- you gotta, move.”

But you lean forward, not stopping the gentle roll of your body over his, and kiss his forehead.

“Come inside me.” You breathe, hands steady over his beating heart, “Give me all of you.”

Of all the stupid, childish things… but the resolve of a dying man, it is far less strong than before - weakening much like his ailing lungs.

“Please.” 

He does, he does.

He grunts needily as he pumps his release into you. Staying sheathed in your warmth, not jerking himself into cold air.

Arthur sits up immediately, burying his head into the side of your neck, and suckles gently at the skin there as your fingers start to play with the wisps of hair at the nape of his neck.

He regrets, it’s all he has left, that again, he wasted his time, glancing shyly at you across the fire for all those months. All he can do is offer you a few fleeting moments of pleasure. He regrets, it’s all he has left, that he cannot taste your lips and the sweetness he knows lies beyond them.

“Darlin’-” he trails off into your skin, trying to compose himself.

I’m sorry- I’m sorry this is all that’s left of me - sorry I can’t give you nothin’ but -

You place your lips on his forehead gently before pulling back. You cup his cheeks in your hands and nod your head.

“Let’s not waste any more time.”

[nerdinabook]

Was in the mood to make a small little drabble featuring the love of my life...

Remus Lupin x Female Hufflepuff Reader

CW: illness, mentions of vomit, mentions of bullying

Everytime I walk up the stairs to the Gryffindor common room I thank Merlin that I am a Hufflepuff and do not have to walk up these stairs everyday. However being friends with the Marauders means I make the trek more often then I would wish.

So here I stand outside the portrait waiting for the boys to come from their detention and let me in.

"Badger! They are bullying me!" Sirius Black, ever the drama queen yells at me from the adjacent staircase. He lays his hand over his forehead in a fainting motion.

" well, did you deserve it?" I say with the tilt of my head. I notice the band of 4 is short 1 tonight.

"Yes he did!" Says Peter Pettigrew as they all meet me where I am by the portrait.

"He made me and Wormtail clean up the sticky Calderons while he chatted with Slughorn about NEWT scores the entire detention!" James Potter wines out to me.

" well Siri looks like you made your bed and I gotta say if verbal bullying is the only retaliation you get from this, then you got off easy" I say with a gentle pat to his shoulder.

Peter says the password and we all enter the common room.

"I thought Remus also had detention with you tonight?" I say to the boys as James plops himself into the big red chair by the fireplace.

"He spent the afternoon vomiting so he got out of it, lucky bloke" Peter says as he lays down on the couch.

"What? But it's not for a couple weeks?" I grab my bag that I just put on the floor ready to march up to the boys dorm.

" yeah but he can still get ill not in relation to his furry little problem" James yells to me as I head up the stairs.

I enter the boys dorm room and am greeted by the beautiful sight of a sleeping Remus Lupin. I approach him quietly and as I get close to his bedside I notice a garbage bin-thankfully empty-next to his bedside and an empty dreamless sleep potion vial on the nightstand.

A sigh escapes my mouth at the sight. I let my bag fall to the ground and go to kneel on the floor next to him.

"Oh my poor boy" I say as I lightly brush my fingers over his forehead to feel if he has a fever.

He stirs in his sleep as I pull my fingers back.

"Shhh" I back up as he resettles himself into the covers.

I get up and brave walking into the bathroom to get him a cold cloth to put over his forehead. Honestly I'm not sure what good it does to a fever but I know I've seen other people do it so I assume it does something.

As I seat myself next to him on his bedside and put the cool rag over his head he finally opens his eyes.

His eyes furrow in confusion for a split second till he sees me and then a peaceful look comes over his face.

"Hey" he coughs "when did you stumble in here" he says as he leans in the touch of my hand on his face.

"Just a minute ago" I brush some hair off his forehead "the boys told me you were sick"

"Mmmh" he hums "just a little bit" he turns on his side towards me and makes room for me to join him.

"Sweetness, you see if I join you then I could get sick, and I don't want to be sick" I say but I already start slipping my shoes off.

"Hmm yeah but then I would get to take care of you for a change" he pulls the covers back for me to slip under them with him.

"Well I could be persuaded to accept that then" I slide in next to him and cuddle into his arms.

He pulls himself into my chest as I let my hands run over his hair as I try to coax him back to sleep.

"How'd I get so lucky" he mumbles as he falls back asleep.

"I've been asking myself the same thing" I softly speak and soon let sleep take me as well.

[lizzisimss]

Cosy Forest Cottage CC list:

CC used (list below) Pier Palace in Windenburg 30 x 20 1 bed, 1 bath $92,913

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[dontwritemeoff]

making breakfast for june, cal, damon, and bash!

I have been brainstorming domestic moments that might have occurred in like the time between Orion and Tilaarin and when this struck me I was just like :O

This is each member separately, but I do think a big crew breakfast would be a fun thing to write as well

I am fs planning to finish this with Ryona, Aya, and Vexx!! I just wanted to get something out since I’ve been working on this for like 3 days lol

TW: food mention

JUNE

We know that this man canonically barely sleeps but we don’t really know his eating habits? So for the sake of this he gets hungry just as often as anyone else lol. 

You don’t actually set out with the intention of making breakfast for him. It’s actually sweeter than that: you simply integrated him into your morning routine. When making yourself breakfast (and this is a morning where you have time for more than just some water and granola, you like actually cook), you find yourself already considering June’s needs. You hadn’t seen him in the hallway, and you’d gotten up fairly early, so you assumed he was still in his room. Whether he was actually asleep or not, who knows.

You debated whether to eat yours first and just wait for him to come into the kitchen eventually or take it to him, and decide on the latter since you were also hoping for a private moment with him away from the mayhem of being full time mercenaries.

Transferring the food you’d cooked into some more portable dishes, you exit the kitchen and make your way to June’s door. With your hands full, you knock on the door with your elbow, and while awkward it gets the job done. You can hear some shuffling behind the door and then June answers in some comfortable pants and a shirt you can tell he hadn’t been wearing prior to five seconds ago. 

He answers on high alert but then his eyes soften when he sees you. 

“(YN), good morning, um, to what do I owe this surprise?” He asks, smiling softly yet still quirking his eyebrow. 

You smile and hold up the food you’d made, steam still wafting slightly from the top of the bowls. “I made breakfast and hoped to have a quiet morning in with you!”

“You made me breakfast?” He asks, as if that isn’t obvious from the two portions you’re holding and the invitation to eat some with you.

“Oh, well I guess I did,” You respond, “I wasn’t really thinking about doing anything special, I was just already thinking about you and made you some without thinking.”

He looks surprised for a moment before smiling deeply, the corners of his eyes wrinkling. “Come inside, I was thinking about you too.”

While it’s a bit cramped trying to both eat off from his desk, and he only has one chair that he all but forced you to sit in, insisting that standing was no problem, you both find yourself occupied with thoughts only about how happy this companionship makes you. 

During his light rant on the proper storage of Lizzie’s food and how Damon keeps taking it out of the fridge even though he knows that it needs to stay cold, you take his hand and run your finger along a fresh, but albeit, small cut. You’d reached out without really thinking about it, and June cuts off his sentence preemtively.

“Are you not using the cream that Ryona gave you for these cuts? It doesn’t seem like this has healed much since yesterday. You know you should be doing that,” you scold, despite there being no anger behind your voice.

He blushes just slightly, barely visible with his tanned skin and the greenish tint to his blood. He averts his gaze but you know he’s guilty.

“It’s not that big of a deal and my hands are already so scarred anyways, I don’t see how they could look any worse,” he deflects, and from the look of sadness that passes over your face he knows he’s said something wrong. He just wanted to keep you from worrying about him.

“June,” you start earnestly, “you do realize that I love you, wholeheartedly and completely, and that includes all your scars, external and internal? I will always accept you just as you are, and care for you even for the most trivial things. I know that it must still be hard adjusting to this level of attention, but I will always remind you that I care about every small part of you.”

There’s a silence that follows that statement, as you see tears welling in his eyes. His brows furrow as he tries to process every word of your statement. Twice already today you’d cared about him as if it was second nature and now you’ve told him that he has your unconditional care and support. While he’d found trust and friendship with the crew of the A6, nobody had cared for him in this way, without judgement and as if it was like breathing. The feeling of it crumbled him, and he took you into his arms, cupping the back of your head with his hand as he buried his face into your shoulder.

And you hug him back just as tight, as with your arms you could squeeze the doubt and pain right out of him. While you hadn’t considered how much your small actions would mean to him, you wanted to convey how big your emotions were too. When June pulls himself back together again and pulls away from the hug, you smile and wipe his cheeks dry with your hand. 

“How about we go to the kitchen for seconds?”

CALDERON

With preparations for Tilaarin and the diplomatic nightmare of dealing with Alisa and Oppo simultaneously, you hadn't seen Calderon in a couple days, besides in passing where he gave you a soft look but kept walking.

While your time with Cal had been short, you knew this man as a workaholic with no sense of self care, and got it in your head to make sure he was taking care of himself, since he couldn't seem to do it himself. Before you went to bed you'd stopped by the bridge to make sure he wasn't still there and luckily only found Aya confirming the path to Tilaarin and making minor adjustments in the autopilot. Satisfied that Cal was most likely at least in his room, you went to bed yourself.

The next morning while making yourself something to eat you noticed a distinct lack of dirty dishes from Calderon. (At this point, you'd eaten with the crew enough to know who used what and Cal was extra particular with his items.) Sighing, you started up the stove to make sure that he ate something more than a handful of nuts or some plain bread.

Once you'd finished and plated both of your meals you realized you had no idea where he was. Most likely he was already awake doing god knows what, and you didn't have the energy to hunt him down. So, you picked up your com, took a deep breath, and called the shipwide line:

"Paging Captain Calderon Lynch, from Prince(ess) (YN) Peg'asi," you laugh inwardly at the formality that certainly wasn't necessary but conveyed urgency, "I need you to report to the kitchen."

You can hear Bash laughing from the hallway, and through your mild embarrassment hold out hope that Cal is even more embarrassed and that he'll arrive at least to chew you out.

You sit at the table, waiting in silence for a minute, when you hear the automatic door slide open and a peeved but blushing Calderon step in.

"To what do I owe this, pleasure," Cal begins, "your majesty." You know that if it has been anyone but you, he would already be yelling, or even more likely wouldn't have entertained the request at all.

"No need to have a stick in your ass so early, Captain," you tease back, "and I'll have you know that your continued well-being is of utmost importance so I believe my call portrayed the exact right amount of urgency."

"And what is your concern with my well-being?" He asks, leaning against the counter with the air of someone with undeserved confidence.

"Well, and I don't know for sure as a [Tilaari/Kitalphan/fellow human], but I believe people need to eat to live and if you don't do that for long enough it's not good for you."

You gesture towards where the breakfast is already beginning to cool and raise your eyebrows suggestively.

"Do you think you need to take care of me?" Calderon sighs, though there's no defensiveness in his voice and he takes a seat.

Taking the seat next to him, you take his hand in yours and near force him to look you in the eyes. "It's not about thinking I need to, it's that I want to. You're someone important to me, and the rest of the crew, and you can't be the one sacrificing himself for others. We're in this together, ok?"

Calderon swallows the lump in his throat and nods, determined not to cry at such a small gesture. But in the back of his mind he thinks, when was the last time someone's done even something this small for him? Squeezing your hand, he releases it to grab the fork and take a bite, smiling at your anticipatory face for his reaction to the food.

"It's wonderful, (YN)."

DAMON

I imagine with Damon is less of you making him breakfast and rather making it together. We already know he can cook and bake pretty well, so I'd like to think he makes himself nice meals as a way to have something he can control. So when one morning you're both entering the kitchen at the same time, he quirks you a smile and asks, "You come here often?"

"Not as often as I probably should," You respond, reaching around him to open the fridge. When he sees you pouring yourself just a bowl of cereal he furrows his brows a bit and then sighs.

"Is that all you're having?"

"Um. Yeah? What, is there something else I should be eating?"

Damon pauses, an inscrutable look on his face, then sighs resignedly.

"You ever cook in that palace or did you have a personal chef to do it all the time?" He teases, but steps aside from the stove so you can see what he's doing.

"Uh....I never really made anything, but sometimes I'd sneak into the kitchens to get a midnight snack or extra food. I don't think that counts though."

Damon let's a breath out of his nose in laughter and says, "No, I wouldn't count that as cooking. But I know a thing or two about stealing food, too."

You swat his arm but feel a pit in your stomach. Was it pity, sympathy, or simply sadness that he had to experience such desolation? You shake the thoughts off and lean closer to him, either to see better or to simply get closer. The reason doesn't matter.

"So what are you making?" You look at a greased frying pan and a mixing bowl filled with what you think is a mixture of eggs, milk, and cinnamon.

"Well I was going to just make myself a plate of eggs and call it a day but I figured if I'm teaching you then I might as well make something nice. You ever have French toast?" He takes a...whisk? You weren't sure, like you'd said, you didn't have much experience with cooking. He hands the whisk to you and says, "Here. Mix until it's all one consistency. I'll let you know when you've gotten there."

You hold the side of the bowl and begin mixing like your life depends on it. Maybe it was your pride making up for the fact that you felt so inexperienced compared the rest of the crew. What you didn't know was that that would cause the mix to start spraying everywhere.

“Hey! ‘The hell you do that for?” Damon shouts in surprise as he gets egg and milk in his hair.

“I! Um! I thought you had to mix it really hard?” You say guiltily, setting the whisk down as gently as possible. 

“What? No, these ingredients are mostly liquid! They’re just to soak the bread in!” He says, swiping his hands through his hair. When he sees your dejected look, he purses his lips and puts the whisk back in your hand.

“Here,” he puts his hand over yours, “We’ll mix together. See, nice and gentle, just with enough force to break the egg yolks.” You can feel the callouses on Damon’s hands as he holds one of yours stirring the whisk and the other is over your hand holding the bowl.

“Ok,” you say quietly, since his chest is pressed against your back, “and what next?”

“Well, we let the bread soak while we make some [coffee/tea/drink of choice].”

The rest of breakfast is made without any more spills, mostly you observing Damon but he does let you flip the toast in the skillet, laughing lightly at your surprise when the uncooked side begins to sizzle. When you’re finished and both sitting down to eat, you smile widely at him. You’re extremely grateful for his patience with you, and not just today. Adjusting to life as a not-so-ordinary person has certainly not been easy, but after his apology he’d been nothing but gentle, though he’d never admit it.

“Thank you for teaching me this, Damon. I hope you’ll let me learn more from you.”

“I, uh, it’s really no problem,” he says, pointedly looking at his plate as he picks at his food, “It’s nice to have someone to do this with anyways.”

BASH

Bash is another member of the crew known for his baking prowess, so I think he’d make something really nice once a week that he can eat off from for the rest. Like meal planning but for like an oatmeal bake lol.

He keeps his portions labeled neatly (well, not all that neatly but you can certainly tell they’re his from the doodles that accompany his name) in the fridge, and he has lots of fun mugs to drink from, one matching your own “I <3 Cursa” mug. This particular morning you can see steaming tea coming from a mug that has clip-art of tools on it and says, “Kiss The Mechanic” in bright pink lettering, and you know it has to be his, though you have no idea where he would have gotten it. There were a few very specific gift shops on Chrono, however, that seemed like they had something for everyone. You had to stop him from buying you a T-shirt covered in words that started out reading, “I have a kick-ass biomechanical boyfriend, and yes, he bought me this shirt.”

Since the tea in the mug was still hot, you knew that Bash had to be around somewhere, though he wasn’t currently in the kitchen. Knowing at that point his habits for breakfast, you took out one of his portions from the fridge and set it on the plate to microwave (? I have no clue what cooking would look like in the future). 

While waiting for that to finish, you rummaged around in the fridge for something for yourself, finding some fresh fruit that Ryona had picked up on Chrono, with a note that said “for sharing but do not eat it all!!” and laughed. You knew for sure that even if she hadn’t labeled it, she would have made an exception for Bash. Taking the carton of fruit out of the fridge you, spoon some onto Bash’s oatmeal to give it some more flavor and set it on the table before making a bowl of fruit for yourself. You hear the doors swish open as Bash walks in, yawning. It takes him a moment to process that his food was already warm and waiting for him on the counter.

He looks at you and then back at his food. “Did you do this?” He asks, before picking it up to smell it.

“Um, yes? Don’t worry, I didn’t poison it.”

“Oh,” he starts, “Well, uh, thank you. How did you know that was what I wanted?”

“Bash, you eat the same thing every morning and the containers are covered in your name. Plus, while I may be sheltered, I know how to operate a microwave.”

He picks up his bowl and mug and takes a seat next to you. He then eyes the fruit in his bowl and the fruit in his. “Is this Ryona’s?”

“Yes, but she said she’d share. Do you not like it? I’m sorry I put some in without asking, I thought you’d like the extra flavor.”

“Oh! No no, I love it, I just, I don’t know. I’m not used to people caring for me. Sure, the crew cares about me but, I never had someone taking care of me growing up, and when I was under the care of the Archangels it was because I couldn’t take care of myself. It felt more like a debt I’ve yet to pay back. So I guess when it’s something small and out of the goodness of someone’s heart I just don’t really believe it. Not that I don’t believe you and your feelings! But, my brain doesn’t want to, you know?”

You smile at his ramblings, he always manages to make you smile.

“Sebastian,” you say with a fake stern voice, causing his eyes to widen, “I don’t just do this out of the goodness of my heart but the love in my heart. I pay attention to you and your habits and want to take care of you because I love you. It’s that simple, and I’ll keep doing it until you and your silly brain of yours believes it.”

He takes your hand and raises it to press a kiss to your palm. 

“I love you too, (YN). I hope you’ll let me take care of you too.”

[unknowngaytoaster]

Hi! I think a yandere traveller is a great concept, could you write headcanons where the traveller has kind of kept Calderon hostage (like keeping him from the crew, not letting him leave) and doing creepy yandere stuff and he escapes back to the crew and tells them what the traveller has done and the crew's reactions (I hope they believe him!). I hope this is specific enough, also I prefer male reader, but you can change it if you want.

(Wow, this ended up being my most favorite and longest headcanon request, around 800+ words, and I loved writing every word of it because I almost never see Yandere Reader stuff, so thank you for requesting hope you request again in the future)

Oh, what an unfortunate fate Calderon has brought onto himself.

Truly Cal doesn’t know what went wrong in your relationship that brought it to this point, did he not pay enough attention to you?

Or perhaps you were always like this and he didn’t notice, he honestly can’t tell.

He only started noticing you separating him from the others when you told him it wasn’t necessary for him to give the crew important files, and that you would send a messenger to do the job instead because they weren’t worth his time. (that was the first of many red flags he got from you)

Another occurrence was when he went to Damon to inform him of recent updates on your plans to help Cursa, only to get stopped by a personal guard of yours and ask if he had your permission to leave. The guard refused to let him through and Cal ended up having to go have a little ‘chat’ with you.

He felt that this incident was ridiculous, he was your right-hand man (you didn’t like the way he said it) and he had to ask for your permission to leave the castle?? You were the King for fucks sake they can’t make him ask you for everything like a lost pup!

That was until after he finished ranting and you told him that you were the one who personally implemented that rule.

“Excuse me?”

He was of course beyond furious and didn’t listen to you when you tried to explain yourself (which even you did, it would have done nothing to soothe his anger)

It didn’t take him long to attempt to leave and tell the crew about your recent possessive actions against you.

Who he finds first he’ll tell immediately

Ryona is concerned when she hears the news, her ideal course of action would be to inform the rest of the crew and confront you on the subject, that is until she realizes it’s a horrible idea.

If you're that possessive of Calderon and willing to break his boundaries in order to keep him for yourself who’s to say that you won’t lash out in order to show who’s the one in control...

June was confused to hear such things from Cal about you, sometimes Cal would exaggerate things to make them seem more serious than they actually were, but this didn’t seem to be the case. He doesn’t know how to help him but in his heart, he feels as if his distaste for your family is now resurfacing and is worse than it was before.

Ayame feels awful, while she knows it isn’t her fault she feels as if she should’ve noticed your behavior sooner, she tries to remember her every interaction with that could’ve even implied that you might do something as irrational as this, she’ll immediately tell Damon to get a plan started to take action. She wants Cal away from you as fast as possible.

Bash thinks he’s exaggerating...until he sees Calderon’s furious expression and realizes “Oh, he really is serious..” he tells the rest of the crew and considers Ryona’s idea of confronting you, but no one really knows if that’ll end well, so the second option is to run.

Damon takes it seriously because he knows Cal wouldn’t say something so odd without reason. In his opinion running away to another planet might be the best opinion if it’s really that bad but should be used only as a last resort. Once the plan is set into motion it’s not surprising that you try to interfere and threaten Damon that Cursa is still in your grasp since you’re its main supplier of resources. Alice is brought up in your conversation when you show how you’d really hate to waste all the time you put into Cursa and potentially harm its main ambassador, that is the point where Damon starts questioning his judgment of this grand escape.

Vex, while not actually officially a part of the crew he still considers him someone who can inform the crew of his personal issues and maybe even help him with his problems with you since he knew you in your youth, Calderon needs Vexx to tell him if you’ve always been like this or if it’s a recent change. When he finishes ranting he can’t help but notice Vexx’s distasteful expression and aura of false pity. Vexx was not the greatest person to talk to about this subject, his problem with ‘you’. Vexx loved you, hell he still does, and Calderon saying that he doesn’t want your love anymore when Vexx is the one who didn’t have a choice and lost that love by force. Vexx knows he can’t earn your past love again, but he can at least have your opinion of him be high enough that you’ll keep him by your side in your time of need. Vexx takes Calderon back to you by force, and his heart races when you grant him a higher position beside you, making all of his efforts worth it.

[arcanadreams]

in the ultimate form of mlm wlw solidarity, finding and reading through the entirety of @junipersimp’s blog today finally got me off my ass to FINISH THESE!! they have been partially written, sitting in my drafts for LIKE MONTHS AT THIS POINT. SO THANK YOU FOR GIVING ME A6 INSPIRATION I LOVE YOUR WORK <3

anyway these are hcs for the a6 love interests in the scenario of “kissing a friend to get a creep to leave them alone and there’s a SPARK” (yes i know damon and cal basically already did this in-game but i’m adding ✨KITH✨) i haven’t played every route so sorry if anyone is ooc ahgskfks also pls excuse grammar mistakes it is midnight

:D have fun!! also feel free to send in a6 requests/ideas, tho considering how long these babies took i make no promises about getting to them in a timely manner

June:

What’s that? Oh you need literally anything? Anything at all? Yeah, sure thing, Traveler.

Translation: Yes he’s absolutely down to kiss you to get a creep off your back should you ask.

The second the words “Kiss me, please?” leave your lips June is obliging. If it weren’t for the alarm in your eyes and the urgent grip you had on his shirt, he probably would’ve asked more questions. But what Traveler wants, Traveler gets; at least, that’s the philosophy June subscribes to.

The kiss is short, but very tender. One of his hands gently curls around your side, the other holding your cheek. The sweetness of it makes your face heat up. You hadn’t expected to feel fireworks, but there they were. When the two of you separate, his shifts his hands to rest on your hips but doesn’t move away from you. 

“I’m not complaining, but...can I ask what that was about? You looked worried.” You explain quickly, noticing a few flecks of green shine in his eyes as he learns of the person following you. He looks around the two of you, his grip on your waist tightening ever so slightly. Is he attempting to ground you or himself? Both, to be honest (but himself a bit moreso).

You can physically feel his relief when he doesn’t see the creeper anywhere. He lets out a sigh, turning to you with a small smile. His shoulders lower ever so slightly, almost as if he feels self-conscious for his protective actions.

“Why don’t you stick by my side while we’re here? I’d feel better with you near me after that.” You agree happily, wondering whether the “after that” is referring to the creep situation or the kiss. You hope it’s the kiss. (It’s both.)

Damon:

Literally is so down for this. There is nothing he would like more than to smooch you out of trouble.

Let’s be real: he’s too into it. Don’t ask him to help in this scenario unless you’re ready for some of his usual antics dialed up to 11 in the name of “just doing what you asked.”

“Could you please kiss me? For safety reasons?” Damon can’t help chuckling a little; he knows the situation already and yet the way you phrase your plea surprises him. He had figured out what was happening before you even approached him; he’d been keeping an eye on you. 

“For safety reasons, eh?” He teases, figuring he has a little time to mess with you before the creep figures out where you ran off to. But he doesn’t; they're sharper than he’d given them credit for. He narrows his eyes when he notices they are back to being hot on your trail.

“Look, Damon, I know it’s a weird request but-” “I’ve got it covered, sweetheart,” he interrupts you, saying the pet name with emphasis so the people around you, problem one included, can hear it clearly.

The assassin reaches forward and places his hands on your sides, pulling you close to him. He whispers a quick “Just follow my lead” into your ear, which you respond to with a nod. He shoots you a grin before moving one hand to the small of your back and tugging you into a kiss. It is fiery and passionate and has you feeling butterflies in your stomach...a feeling that only gets stronger when his right hand slides down to your thigh and lifts your leg slightly. 

“Think we fooled them?” He asks, rather cheekily, when the two of you finally pull apart. Turning and looking around the area, you see your pursuer is long gone. Never missing an opportunity to tease, Damon whispers in your ear yet again: “I’m not sure we were convincing...think it’d sell it more if we walk around with my hand in your back pocket the rest of the night?”

Calderon:

Mmm depends, to be quite honest with you. If you’re just plain friends, he won’t kiss you. He just puts his hand on his blaster and gives the creep a death glare. 

But if you’re friends with tension, and there’s been flirting going on between you two? Then yeah, yeah he will. Not on the lips, though. 

“I know this is weird but please kiss me; this guy will not take a hint.” Calderon knows something has to be wrong when you grab onto his arm so suddenly. Looking behind you, he can already see a half-bionic man making a beeline for where the two of you stand.

“This happens every time I leave you alone,” he groans. You open your mouth to retort but he bends down to place a firm kiss to your forehead before you have the chance. His hand finds the small of your back, tugging you closer to him. You can’t see it, but Cal is giving the guy a glare while his lips are pressed to your skin. The creep is phased and stops in his tracks; a death glare from Calderon Lynch will do that, yeah.

Meanwhile, you are having an inner crisis over the fact that a simple kiss on the forehead from Cal is making you feel things. The kiss is protective; you can tell from his rigid posture how mad he is on your behalf. However, you can feel none of that anger where his lips touch your skin and that has your stomach filling with unexpected butterflies. 

Calderon pulls away when the guy slinks off. His expression slips into a satisfied grin when he sees the creep flee the area completely. You thank the captain. He answers you with a huff and acknowledging nod, but not before you catch a glimpse of a light blush on his cheeks.

“We need to get you a bodyguard,” he taps your chin briefly. “For tonight, stay by me. And don’t wander off again.”

Ayame:

Oh hell yeah. She’ll just as soon punch the guy for you, but...

...when you put it that way, how could she even have considered any other possible solutions?

Ayame spots the distressed look on your face from across the room as she spins in circles on a pole. She stops her dance immediately, squinting to assess your situation properly. She watches as you awkwardly laugh, clearly trying to get away from the half-bionic man speaking to you. He doesn’t get the hint. She, however, does, and slides off the stage without hesitation, ready to break her hand again. 

“Babe, who is this?” she sidles up next to you right as the guy is asking you to leave with him for the third time that night. You feel her arm on your back, her hand landing on your hip and resting there. She tugs you a little closer as she continues. “Is this asshole bothering you?” Aaaand she’s instigating. Aya may be ready to shatter her bones again, but you certainly aren’t keen on that happening. The robotic man doesn’t get a chance to respond because you’re already blurting out your own in an attempt to diffuse this bar fight before it starts.

“You forgot my kiss,” your slightly alarmed voice does not sound convincing at all, so you quickly add a “babe” of your own on to the end. Aya stifles a laugh at your acting, but grins nonetheless. 

“You’re right; I completely forgot. Let me make it up to you,” she’s practically purring, cupping your cheek and turning your face until you make eye contact with her and oh god she’s looking at you like she wants to devour you- 

And then she’s kissing you. Her lips taste like a fruity cocktail and you kiss back as the hand on your cheek slides down to your neck. You hear a gruff robotic voice mumble something about ‘I get it, I get it,’ but you don’t pull away. The smooching only stops when Ayame laughs. 

“You know, I was just going to punch that guy, but I think your solution worked just as well. Let me know when you need my services again.~”

Ryona:

Is like Calderon in that you get a kiss from her, just not one on the lips. 

She’s honestly just as likely to sidestep you entirely and put you behind her while verbally tearing the creep a new one, rather than deter them with a kiss. 

Ryona gives your hand a welcoming squeeze when she feels you slide your hand into hers suddenly. She turns around with a smile, but it fades into a concerned frown quickly at your slightly panicked expression.

“There’s this guy who has been following me so could you maybe-” you don’t even get to finish your sentence. Ryona looks behind you and sees the guy approaching, quickly giving your hand another squeeze before she steps in front of you. She pushes you slightly behind her, putting herself between you and your harasser.

“Is there a problem here?” She sneers at him. The guy says that there wasn’t until she got involved, and she openly scoffs. Completely unafraid, she steps forward and points a finger in his face. “Leave them alone. Is this how all your romantic pursuits go? You chase someone down until they have to look for help from someone they actually are interested in?” The small crowd of people who until that point had tried to hide their eavesdropping let out a chorus of ‘ooo’s and gasps.

“You know what? Fuck this. They ain’t worth it anyway,” the creep retreats quickly. He can’t handle the heat of Ryona. And neither can you, to be honest; she turns back to you, taking your face in her hands gently and looking you over, and you nearly combust on the spot. First she protects you without even thinking about it, and now she’s looking at you with so much affection and worry?? You’re gonna die.

“I was going to ask if you could kiss me to make him get the hint but that worked. Also you’re really hot. Also thank you.” In your Ryona-induced haze, you rambled out praises. The woman in question laughed, covering her mouth with her hand briefly before moving it aside to give you a peck on the cheek.

“If there is a next time, we can try your plan, Traveler.” 

Vexx:

Sounds fun, sure. He’s a lot like Damon about it. Takes the opportunity to tease you.

Traveler? Begging him for a kiss? Literally why would be ever turn you down? 

“Vexx!” The red-head turns around immediately at the sound of your voice calling his name. He raises a half confused, half worried eyebrow at the fact you seemingly ran to him just now. 

“Everything ok?” He unabashedly looks you up and down in search of any injury. 

“Do you remember when people would hit on me sometimes back when we snuck out of the palace? And how you’d pretend to be my boyfriend to get them off my back?” Yes, of course he does; he doesn’t want to ever forget those times again. “Think you could do that again? This person will not take a hint.” Vexx looks behind you and sees the approaching culprit, narrowing his eyes for a second. But then he looks back at you and a giant grin grows on his face. He gently takes a hold of your wrist, tugging you toward him. Your hands rest on his chest as the two of you collide.

“How could I disobey the wishes of royalty?” He whispers in your ear, pausing for a second after the joke. His second whispers sound far more sincere: “Do you trust me? I want to try something.” You snort and blush before nodding and telling him that of course you trust him; he’s your best friend. His eyes soften at your remark before he leans in and gives you a brief kiss. He pulls back to test your response but when you chase after his lips he smiles and dives back in. When you finally part, you’re both left breathless.

“You know,” his shit-eating grin is back. “The boyfriend act always was my favorite part of the guard job.” 

Bash:

Asks you to repeat yourself, both flustered by the suddenness and needing to be sure you mean it.

You mean it? Well damn, in that case hell yes it’s kiss time.

“Come again? And if you really did say what I think you said...are you sure?” Bash blinks, a blush lighting up his cheeks. Had he just heard you right? Had you really asked him to kiss you? With a pretty please on top and everything? You assure him that yes, you did just ask him to kiss you to help you get rid of a persistent creep. At your reassurance, his stance stops being stiff as a board and he looks far more comfortable.

“Well, if it’s for such a good cause,~” he wiggles his eyebrows and outstretches a hand, offering it to you. You laugh and take it, allowing him to pull you in closer. He smiles at you before looking to the direction you came from. He clicks his teeth and frowns upon spotting a figure making a beeline for the two of you.

“That them?” At your nod, he glares back over at them and raises his voice. “Damn, I’m so sorry, honey! People really don’t know how to take a hint around here!” He is purposefully loud and obvious, and you can’t help but snicker at him. 

Bash looks at you, his eyes asking for silent permission. Another ‘are you sure about this?’ You respond by closing your eyes and his heart jumps in his chest. You trust him so much and it warms his whole being to see. He leans in, wrapping his arms around you. The kiss is gentle and happy, both of you smiling the whole way through it. When you separate, he wears a goofy grin on his face. He looks to where the creep used to be and finds no one.

“Hey, we did it!” He gives you a light squeeze. “Teamwork makes the dream work. We make a great team, don’t you think?” You reply with a resounding yes.

[animefreak1145]

Masterlist for COD:BOCW/BO6

COD:BOCW Analysis/Asks/Observations/Rants

Adler and the Lip Thing™

Adler and His Approval Nods to You/Bell

Adler and Bell: Brainwashed Fate

Additional Analysis on Another’s Post: About Bell @phantom-wolf

Additional Analysis on Another’s Post: About COD:BOCW as a game @phantom-wolf

Additional Analysis on Another’s Post: Bell Alive?/Adler is Insane @asaltryefl @zombiequeenxxx

Additional Small Analysis on Another’s Post: The Safehouse Layout @salvija

Additional Observation on Another’s Post: Lubyanka/Taking Off Clothes @zombiequeennxx @asaltryefl

Additional Observation on Another’s Post: COD Mobile Spoilers With Adler @sinnerburrito

Ask: Bell Tool Adler vs Perseus(small Rant)

Ask: Bell’s Expressions vs Adler’s

COD:BOCW Mission--Break on Through Analysis

COD:BOCW Mission—Break on Through Analysis Pt. 2

Deprogram Map Analysis Masterlist

Rant: Hudson/Black Should Be Fired

Twitter Discovery: Stitch had a wife Confirmed by Actor—MJ Kreyzer

Twitter Discovery: Stitch’s Tattoos 1 & 2

COD: BO6 Analysis/Asks/Observations/Rants

Case vs Bell: Would They Get Along? @d0gmeats

Adler, Case, and Bell Were All in the Same Lab in 1981 @makeyourpeacenow @littlemissclandestine

COD:BOCW/BO6 Fanfiction(Completed/Ongoing)

Fanfiction Masterlist

COD:BOCW Planned Fanfiction

Red, White, and Blue(Adler x Bell)(Oneshot)(Planned)

—and that’s all they share.

Adler never caught Bell for MK-Ultra. Instead, the two of you meet and leave again ever since a chance mission three years ago—1978. Irony and Fate laugh.

Warnings/Tags: Enemies to Lovers, Bell Stays With Perseus, Mature Warning, Implied Sexual Content, Sexual Content, Angst, Character Study, Major Character Death, Cold War Spoilers, Warzone Trailer Spoilers, Vanguard Spoilers, Mild Usage of COD: Mobile Story, COD: Mobile Spoilers, Graphic Violence A/N: Up the ante for Bell and Adler—with a true Enemies to Lovers. This will be fun~. And not quite pleasant.

Schrödinger's Cat(Threeshot)(Planned)

Description: Hudson is just trying to do his job. But he needs to figure out if Adler can be cleared after the rescue done by the team despite the kidnapping.

With all of this Perseus mess going on--from Stitch to the actual KGB, there needs to be operatives who can handle it.

Hudson is willing to have a man like Adler help out. After he is cleared medically and mentally, that's what he will do.

Regret.

1984 Timeline

Warnings: Mature Rating/Graphic Violence, Torture, Brainwashing, Trauma, Mentions of Past Adler and Bell

[wayhavnsfinest]

R&R

Reader convinces Cal to let the crew have some much deserved R&R. I was inspired partially by this and by my own need for vacation even though it’s only the second full week of school. As I wrote this I decided I am probably going to a Damon one as well. So stayed tuned for that!

Pairing: Reader X Cal.

You walk into the bridge as you watch the captain and his second-in-command verbally battle it out. The crew had just collected their third bounty in two weeks time, to say they were overworked would be an understatement. 

Cal pinches the bridge of his nose in exasperation as Damon slinks off to his room like an angry cat. 

You turn to Aya who was uncharacteristically quiet during the exchange. “What did I miss?” Your brow furrows as you try to decode the last of the argument you observed. 

“Damon basically completed a contract on his own and pissed off some hoity toity in the process.” Aya activates the ship’s autopilot as she turns to you. “Honestly under normal circumstances it wouldn’t be that big of a deal. However everyone is just exhausted and tempers are high because of it.” 

You definitely noticed the strained tensions between the crew the past week. Damon’s dark circles were darker. Cal’s frown lines were deeper. Aya was considerably less chipper. Bash was actually quiet. Only Ryona and June managed to remain calm under the additional pressure. You were tired as well. Your new “boss” had you working all sorts of odd jobs around the ship as well as additional hand to hand combat and weapons training.

 You bite your lip and rack your brain for a way to try to cheer up the crew.  “Hey, we’re not far from Teranium are we? What if we visited that oasis you told me about.”

Aya snorts and manages to grin at you. “If you can get grump ass over there to agree, I’ll set the course immediately.” She turns back to the controls to monitor the course as the ship sails on autopilot. 

In the short time of your exchange with Aya; Calderon managed to disappear. You wouldn’t say you were close to the former commander but you hoped you were friendly enough to convince the guy to let the crew take a break. You make your way to his quarters as you rehearse your case in your head.

After knocking on his door and getting no response you walk into his quarters. His door was unlocked, so it’s not like you picked it or anything, he can’t get too mad. 

“Can I help you?”

You look down to see a very shirtless, very agitated looking commander doing sit ups. 

“I knocked and you didn’t answer so I wanted-“ 

 “I didn’t answer because I wanted to be left alone.”

Yikes. Okay. 

“Just hear me out okay.” Damn he’s ripped. Like his muscles have muscles. You collect yourself and concentrate on those gorgeous baby blues of his. “The crew is tired. We’ve been working hard, we’re cranky. We won’t do well if we keep running ourselves ragged.” 

Calderon shoots you an indecipherable look. You continue. “We’re not far from Teranium, Aya told me about this oasis. It seems far enough removed where we won’t attract attention if we land there for a few days, but it’s also close enough where we can refuel and restock before heading out on our next contract. I think it would be really good for the crew to just take a few days and rest.”

You gnaw on your bottom lip as you wait for his response.

“Alright. You convinced me. Go tell your partner in crime that she can set the course. You can also tell her that sending you to do the dirty work, was a well calculated move and I respect that.” He gives you a small smirk and you feel your heart beat just a little faster as you make your way to Aya. 

Aya sets the course for the oasis and you smile triumphantly as she tells you the ETA.

It takes about 18 hours but you finally arrive at the oasis. Aya wasn’t hyping this place up for nothing. It is gorgeous, white sand, palm trees, crystal clear water.  Best of all, it is completely deserted. The Andromeda Six crew has the run of the place and you can already sense everyone relaxing.  

You watch as everyone splits off to do their own thing. Your eyes meet Cal’s and he gives you a slight nod, you interpret it as a sign to follow him. You walk over to him and take in the sight of the normally buttoned up captain in a tank and swim trunks.

“You up for a bit of swimming?” He asks as he shrugs off his shirt. You once again get a view of his physique. You make a mental note to ask what his arm tattoo stands for. 

“Sure!” You quickly shed your clothes and reveal your swimsuit underneath. You walk with Cal into the water and try to keep up with him as he leads you to an unknown destination. 

After a few minutes of swimming you get to a spot where you can once again stand. You take a breather and look around. Cal has led you to a shallow cave where small schools of exotic fish swim in the tide pools.

“Oh wow!” You are mesmerized by the colors of the fish. They are colors of periwinkle, lavender, teal, rose and chartreuse. You have never seen fish like these before and they take your breath away with their beauty. 

“They’re beautiful.” 

“Yeah they are, but they are nothing compared to you.”

You turn and look at the captain in shock. Did he really just say that?! 

“I know we didn’t get off on the right foot, but I wanted to let you know I felt. You haven’t had it easy, but you’ve taken it all in stride. You’ve handled your situation with grace and poise. I…” The captain takes a breath and looks at you. “I really admire you.”

You can’t help it, you close the gap between the two of you and kiss him passionately. You wrap your arms around his neck as he pulls you close and holds you against his body. The heat of your bodies and the coolness of the water has a small moan escaping from your lips. He takes this opportunity to have his tongue slip past your lips and battle yours for dominance, it’s not much of a fight as you surrender yourself to him.

Breathless you pull yourself away from him. “I really admire you as well Cal.”

Calderon smiles and kisses you again.

[abyssal-zone-stares-back]

Best Served Sweet

Murdock x F/Murderer!Reader

Not beta’d, we die like Murdock’s victims

Warnings - Mentions of murder, poisonings

Another day, another murder.

Your parents passed away when you were little; so it's just been you and your grandma ever since you could remember. She had a business selling fruit and such on the side of the road.

It's a relatively small town so everyone knows everyone. Your grandmother, well, she held grudges. So much so that she had a list of people. She talked about them in a bad light so much that you started to dislike them too.

Hubert Pickett who bagged at the grocers, Raymond McCullough the town vet, Marguerite Sullivan who always bought a blueberry pie on the Saturdays you had them, and more.

Once, when you were around 15? 16 perhaps, Vernon Calderon was found dead in his house. They still aren't sure what happened and it's been years since but you know. You didn't know then but you know now.

When your grandmother decided you were old enough to know, she gave you a leather-bound book. Clasping her hands around yours and telling you the stories. Not the ones you've heard before, not the grudges, but the revenge.

Vernon? She sold him poisoned milk a few days prior. She fed a cow white snakeroot, the same stuff that supposedly killed Abraham Lincoln's mom the same way. Almost a year later, when she felt it was safe, Vicki May, the girl that bullied you in middle school? Deadly nightshade pie.

Leonard Douglas, Stanley Rose, Phyllis Nolan and so many more? Gone by your grandmother's hand. And no one suspected her. After all, who would suspect the local, sweet, little old lady of poisoning people? And if she did get caught? Well, she could just say she didn't know that the plants were poisonous. 

Not a solid defense, just don't get caught you suppose. Before she died, she taught you all she learned. What plants had what poison. What the effects were. How to integrate them into the foods she makes.

You don’t have very many grudges. But it doesn’t mean that you can’t continue what your grandmother started does it? And after the last name’s crossed off? Well, maybe, just a few more murders wouldn’t hurt, it was fun. Gave you a feeling of power.

After all, who would suspect the kind girl who ran the fruit stand all by herself since her grandma passed away? Not Karen, who was currently holding one of your jars of experimental honey. You smiled at her, and she forced one back.

She turned away to her car, dropping her smile. You still held yours, even though no one was around and she couldn't see you. That honey? Made with the pollen of rhododendron bushes. A very toxic plant.

Another day, another murder.

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

Another murder, another town.

Murdock ran a gloved hand over his face. It’s always the same, staying at a rented home or just a hotel to hide. It’s ok for a while. Then the itch arrives. The itch to kill. To murder. To feel the slide of a knife along flesh. To watch it peel back and bleed.

He used to ignore it. Shove it to the back of his mind and hope it goes away. But he always gave in. And after a while, he just stopped ignoring it.

Giving in, greeting the itch like an old friend. Stalking someone, watching, learning their routine, before finally killing them.

His prey's last scream still played in his mind as he started up his car. He might stop at the fruit stand he saw on the way “home”. For a job well done.

The sun was just starting to go down, barely below the horizon, when he pulled up. You were placing a box in the back of your truck. Turning around you jumped slightly when you saw him approaching.

“Oh hello, I was just about to pack up for the night.” He must have startled you. Murdock smiled, starting to look through the items for sale. “You seem to be packing up quite early.” He commented. You leaned your elbows on the table. “It is still fairly light out, but with all the murders, you never know who could be a killer.”

Murdock looked up at that, finding your eyes. “No, you don’t,” Interesting. “I never really get people this late.” You were saying. “So I’m used to packing up early.” “Well, I suppose I’ll have to show up this late again.” He found himself replying as he picked up an apple, turning it in his gloved hands.

“Red delicious, matches. I wouldn't mind, unless you never buy anything.” He looked at you again, noticing your smile. Ah, you’re joking. “I might not,” He handed you the apple. “But not today, how much?” 

“A dollar fifty.” You replied. “A bag?” “No, thank you.” Handing you the money he looked you over again from behind his glasses. Strange, he felt like he should be wary of you.

Murdock took his apple from your hand and with a polite nod turned to his car. Through the tinted windows he could see you packing up again.

Pulling his sun visor down and checking his rear view mirror his eyes caught something. Something red.

A couple flecks of blood on the rim of his sunglasses he managed to miss when he was cleaning.

“You don’t know who could be a Killer”

“Red delicious, Matches”

That’s what you meant. He chuckled to himself as he pulled out of the lot. He might feel wary around you, because of what he’s not sure yet, but he’s sure you won’t tell.

[musicallisto]

wip tag game

I was tagged by @heliads to share all the titles of pieces in my wip folder, and let my followers ask about any title they find most intriguing! half of these are random ideas floating in my head that I still haven't written anything for, so I'll tell you my idea but I'm afraid I can't give you any excrept to go off of

⌲ woven in the stars (prince friedrich x f!reader)

⌲ amigos con derechos (four-part javier peña x f!reader fic; the first chapter as of now is called clandestino)

⌲ jolly sailor bold (prince caspian x reader)

⌲ firework (calderon lynch x f!traveler)

⌲ all that light touches (helnik)

⌲ ketterdam (kaz brekker)

⌲ my soul in the arena (my life on the line) (aramis x f!reader)

⌲ let your hair down (newt x reader)

⌲ on a winter's day (nina zenik)

⌲ like a kid at a funfair (adam du mortain x detective)

⌲ amur waves (gleb vaganov, maybe like hints of gleb x anya. literally dk)

⌲ draw your swords (ernest sinclaire x f!reader)

⌲ i'll bless my homeland till i die (helnik)

⌲ castle in the snow (robb stark x f!reader)

tagging some of my writing besties & generally writers I love a lot <3 @amirahiddleston @ilylipgloss @ladyvesuvia @ddejavvu @destourtereaux @noesapphic @retvenkos (idk if you have singular wips aside from like rabbits and poets, but just in case! the world can never get enough of your writing)