#peace and quiet is a rare occurance

[serinaviolet]

His Our dirty little secret

Pairing: Caleb x Fem!Reader

Summary: Spending a weekend at home with Grandma and Caleb doesn’t sound too bad! Especially when your childhood friend decides to sneak into your room at night while you sleep ;)

Wordcount: 2k

A/N: Had this thought in my mind since they released the trailer for him so I just had to write it <3

Warnings: mdni!, 18+, smut, possessive! Caleb, Fem!Reader, PinV, fingering, bellyshots, cum eating, mention of foster family, creampie, no protection (wrap it before you tap it), masturbation, belly-bulge, not proof read, English is not my first language (Let me know if I missed something)

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The night swallows the last rays of sun and the moon shines bright over the sea. The training to becoming a hunter is hard and exhausting, so you enjoy and savor every weekend spend at the house of your childhood. Especially on rare days when your old-time friend Caleb got to be home after a mission as deepspace pilot as well. You enjoyed catching up with him and your foster mom Josephine aka. Grandma, light-hearted conversation and friendly teasing occurring like always. After dinner and helping with the dishes you practically fell into your bed, limbs tired and sore from the past few weeks of constant fighting, training and lack of sleep. Your lids heavy, tiredness clouding your mind and only after a short while of laying on the cozy pillows, your drift off into dreamland. But fate had other plans than resting. After about an hour, the slight creaking of your door while being opened and closed, and quiet footsteps approaching your side, stir you from your short slumber.

Your eyes shut close, pretending to be asleep as to surprise the intruder with an attack as soon as they are close enough. Or so you thought till you hear the familiar voice of your best friend reduced to a slight whisper. “My god pipsqueak… I missed you so much…” you hear his steps getting closer, light shuffling and a shaky breath only a few inches above you. He must be kneeling in front of your bed. “Every day without seeing your pretty face is like torture….” his finger trailing carefully over your cheek as to not disturb your peaceful sleep, if only he knew that you were wide awake, brain working overtime to figure out where this soft display of affection is coming from. You hear his soft chuckle and his hand trailing down over your uniform clad shoulder. “you must’ve been so exhausted… still in your hunters uniform… but fuck does it look good on you.” Your breath catches in your throat as his whispers turn into a low rumble, fingertips tracing along the cutout at your stomach. You stay still, not sure if out of fright or anticipation of his next move. His hand trailing back up to your side, opening the zipper of your corset top and carefully sliding the straps off of your delicate arms and placing it on the floor. “Let’s put you into something more comfortable cutie” you hear his body shift, his feet across the hardwood floor and your dresser opening.

A little gasp and “fuck” echoes through the silent room while he rummages through your clothes. You open your eyes shortly, only to see him holding a shirt of yours in one hand and a pair of your red lace panties in the other, pocketing them with a short mumble of “later”. Pressing your eyes shut whilst he turns around again, you listen to his approaching steps, the bed dipping slightly as he sits on the edge of your mattress. His hands make quick work of your buttoned shirt and pants, admiring the naked skin and lace bra clad mounds of your chest. “*Sigh*… Sometimes I forget how grown up you- no, we are now… back when we were children, I could change with you in the same room and not have a single bad thought but now….” His hands open the zipper of your pants, pulling the material down and removing them from your legs, fingertips tracing the soft plains of your thigh “Now I just wanna see this beautiful woman under me, feeling her smooth skin and do such dirty things to her”. You have to hold back a shudder as his fingers trail up over your thighs, stomach and breast, a soft sigh escaping you, making him freeze shortly and the room grows quiet for a moment.

“I-I shouldn’t��� you’d wake up… but shit you feel so good.” You feel the bed dip on each side of your hips, his hands carefully placed on your exposed waist as his low whispers ring from above you: “God you see me as a brother and I just wanna fuck you… But you belong only to me little girl”. ‘He wants to do what? Is this a dream?’ To be honest, you had a hard crush on Caleb for a very long time by now, but always thought that your feelings would not be returned by him and that he views you as a little sister. Excitement and need rising inside you, not wanting to open your eyes, just to see how far he would go. One of his hands disappearing from your waist, the slow *ziiip* of a zipper being opened echoing once again, only for you to realize… you have no more zippers on you. Light pants, followed by soft ruffling of fabric catches your attention again, Caleb’s low groans making your ears peak up. Maybe just a little glance won’t hurt-….Oh….Oh! As you peak through your lashes, you see him straddling your waist, hem of his shirt between his teeth, eyes closed and hand fisting his cock in a slow rhythm.

The sight is just mesmerizing. Soft, pink tip with a glossy bead of pre-cum leaking out already, bulging veins running along his thick shaft, heavy balls and a light trail of hair, reaching up to his bellybutton. You can’t help but stare at it as his hand wraps around it perfectly, his other one grabbing your hip. His cheeks dusted red whilst throwing his head back, more drops running down and dripping onto your lower belly, your clit pulsing with need. “Caleb…” you say quietly, making him groan in respond. “God you feel so good” maybe he was imagining things? “Caleb.” you try again as he ruts into his hand with more vigor. “Caleb!” his eyes shot open, his load shooting all over your stomach and breast as your gaze met. You look down at the warm mess running along your curves as he leans back, chest rising and falling quickly. “Shit shit shit, I am sooooo so sorry. God please don’t hate me, I just- I wanted- fuck, I’ll get something to clea-” you disturb his panicked, hushed mumbling, thumb swiping across your covered chest, licking the sticky substance off with a slow roll of your tongue, never breaking eye contact. Breath catching in his throat, leaning over you again, rough thumb rolling across your soft lips with a shaky sigh. “Well I didn’t expect that… You are a dirty little girl huh? Do you want me too pipsqueak?” His voice trails off, head lowering to your neck as he places a soft kiss against your pulse point, your head nodding violently. “Use your words little one. I need to hear it from you.” his lips curl into a smirk, head lifting to graze your lips with his. “Please! Fuck me Caleb, I need you!” His mouth crashing into yours, years of pent up need, love and lust flowing into the kiss. His tongue finding yours quickly, tasting the residue of his cum on yours, groaning slightly.

The kiss is dizzying, so much so that you don’t even notice when he removes his clothes and your soiled underwear, grinding his again erect member against your arching core. “I dreamed of this so often you know? You, under me naked, so ready for me to take you good.” Kisses training down to your breast, licking off the stickiness of his previous release and leaving a thin coat of saliva on your nipples before sucking harshly on the little nub. Your back arches off the mattress, his teeth rolling the bosom with slight pressure while his fingers trail down between your legs. “So wet already baby? Did you enjoy watching me jack off to your pretty face?” A smirk grazing his handsome face, skilled fingers circling your clit with light strokes. You whimper, “Yes, yes I did Caleb. Fuck… get inside me already”,desperate eyes meeting his as he chuckles deeply, fingers sinking into your needy hole, making you clench tightly around his digits. You moan, his other hand shooting up and muffling your opened mouth, his hot breath hitting your ear “Shhhh, or you’ll wake up grandma. We don’t want that, do we?”. You shake your head and desperately bite your lips as his fingers massager your insides, reaching deeper with every thrust, searching for that little spot of imensive pleasure inside you. His length twitching against your thigh at the erotic display before him, his fingers soaked from your wetness, guiding them to his mouth, eyes rolling back at the taste of your arousal. He aligns his stiff dick with your entrance, collecting your slick on his tip, “I’m gonna eat you an other time. Try not to scream for now babygirl”. He pushes inside you with a hard thrust, penetrating your little virgin hole with such an intensity, that all the air left your lungs.

A silent scream escapes your lips, quickly sealed by another one of Caleb’s dizzying kisses while his hips piston against yours, hitting your cervix with every thrust. “God you are so tight cutie, and I am the very first to fill you like this. I’ll be the only one who will ever be able to fill you like this! You’re mine pipsqueak, forever.” his fingers interlace with yours, chests rubbing against each other, spreading the sticky streaks on your belly further with each slap of his balls against your sensitive cunt. You can’t breath, can’t think. Only feel his tip stroking your g-spot so deliciously that it makes you see stars. His teeth nibbling on the lobe of your ear, whispering sweet nothings while the texture of his rock hard length rubs deliciously against your walls. Spreading your legs more, his gaze lands on your puffy lower lips, admiring the view as he splits you open, belly slightly bulging with his tip bullying your deepest parts. As your legs start to shake, his pace quickens, rolling into you with only one intend: Making you cum. Hard. “I’m so close, come on pretty girl. Let go and cream around my cock, I’ll reward you good” his hands lifting your hips, angling you so that his cock drives even further inside of you, ready to fill you with his seed. You feel him growing even more inside you, eyes rolling back, pussy spasming around him as you fall over the edge, clawing his back with one hand and pulling him with you into the inevitable pleasure. He bites your shoulder, groaning as he shoots rope after rope into your awaiting womb, collapsing on top of you with a satisfied sigh “I love you pipsqueak. So freaking much”. Trying to catch your breath while his hips roll lazily into yours, you return the heartfelt words, eyes fluttering from the combination of new and previous exhaustion hitting you like a truck. Sliding his softening member out of you, he looks at the stream off cum gushing out of your abused hole before cleaning both of you and tucking you in, spooning you under the covers when sleep catches up to him as well.

The next morning you wobble towards the kitchen, clad in a shirt and shorts, while greeting Grandma who is busy preparing breakfast. “Good morning sweetie, I hope you slept well!” her cheerful voice rings through the door of the small space filled with the smell of bacon, bread and eggs. Heavy boots are heard, walking down the hallway and stopping right behind you, a large palm resting at the small of your back. “Good morning Grannie, what are you making?” her back turning to you both as she lists all of the tasty things she planned for the both of you. His hand sliding into your shorts and panties from behind, fingers finding your wet cunt and sliding inside, only to find you still stuffed with his cum. His head resting on your shoulder, a sly grin creeping up on his lips as he replies to Josephine, noticing your blushing face. “That sounds tasty, can’t wait to devour it all~” a kiss lands on your neck, the old woman at the stove infront oblivious to the second meaning behind her foster son’s words. Unaware of this dirty little secret only they know about...

I hope you all enjoyed it and if you did, I would appreciate a like, follow or nice comment^^ thank you all for reading till the end and till next time <3

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-SerinaViolet

2025© SerinaViolet | please do not copy, steal, repost, translate, rewrite or feed it to AI

[aventurineswife]

could you do ratio, gepard, and aventurine where theyre in like a good mood like maybe they have a day off or smth and they had a date planned out and they come walking up to their wife only to find her in tears? Like may e she had a bad family situation or smth

also separately plz in case that wasnt clear

thank you <3

In the Shelter of Your Sorrows

Tags: Ratio x Reader, Gepard x Reader, Aventurine x Reader, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff with Angst, Emotional Support, Established Relationship, Vulnerability.

Warnings: Mentions of Emotional Distress and Family Issues, Reader experiencing a breakdown/crying, Characters expressing worry and offering comfort.

Tagslist: @themiddletenmasibling

It was an unusual day for Ratio. The usually intense and calculated man had found himself with a rare, free afternoon, a luxury he hadn’t enjoyed in what seemed like ages. He had planned everything meticulously for the day—the perfect venue, the perfect time, the perfect conversation. The only thing missing was you.

With his hair tousled ever so slightly and the customary blue cloth draped over his right shoulder, Ratio was in high spirits. He arrived at your shared home, walking with an air of confidence, his eyes gleaming with excitement. He knew you had been having a bit of a rough time recently with family matters, so today was meant to be a reprieve—a day just for the two of you.

But as he rounded the corner into your shared garden, his steps slowed. There you were, sitting on the bench where you and Ratio often spent quiet moments, head in your hands, shoulders trembling with sobs.

His heart sank. Ratio was a man who prided himself on being in control, on solving problems with logic and wisdom, but this was a sight that defied even his vast intellect. He stood still for a moment, his piercing eyes softening as he took in the sight of your vulnerability.

"Love," he said softly, his usually confident tone faltering for just a moment. You looked up at him, your tear-streaked face instantly breaking his heart. "What... what happened?"

You didn’t respond at first, only shaking your head as the weight of whatever had occurred still seemed too fresh to articulate. Ratio slowly walked towards you, his fingers brushing the side of your face gently, wiping away the stray tears.

"I was looking forward to our day," he murmured, his voice low and comforting, though there was a hint of frustration in it as well. "You know I detest seeing you like this." His eyes softened further, the cold intellect replaced by something far warmer. "Talk to me. Whatever it is, we’ll face it together."

He didn’t push you, instead choosing to sit beside you, his arm naturally pulling you toward him. You leaned into his embrace, taking comfort in his presence as he whispered quietly, “I’m here. I will always be here, even when you need to cry.”

Gepard had been counting down the days until he could finally spend time with you. He was a man of duty, yes, but even the stoic Captain of the Silvermane Guards needed a break. And today was that rare occasion—a day off. He had promised you a peaceful afternoon, one where he could be by your side without the weight of his responsibilities.

As he walked toward your house, his frame emanated a quiet sense of calm. His skin glowed under the sun, his eyes scanning the surroundings in his usual vigilant manner, but today, he was full of hope. His armor was set aside in favor of something more relaxed, yet he still exuded a nobility that couldn’t be erased.

However, as he approached the door, he heard it—your sobs, soft but unmistakable. His heart skipped a beat, and a knot formed in his stomach. The world felt suddenly off-balance, and the air around him seemed to grow heavy.

He opened the door gently, the sound of it creaking almost deafening in the silence that followed. And there you were—your back turned to him, hunched over, unable to keep the tears from flowing.

Gepard’s heart clenched. He had faced the battlefield and the monsters of the Fragmentum, but nothing prepared him for seeing you like this. His breath caught in his throat, and he quickly closed the door behind him.

"Hey," he said, his voice gentle but firm, his usual composed demeanor slipping into something softer when he saw how deeply you were hurting. "What happened? Why are you crying?" His tone was full of concern, his posture relaxed but alert, as if he could immediately spring into action if you needed him to.

You wiped your eyes quickly, attempting to hide the pain, but it only made his concern deepen. Gepard kneeled beside you, taking your hand gently. "Tell me, love. I want to know. You don’t have to carry this alone."

You finally looked at him, the raw emotion in your eyes breaking the Captain’s steady composure. He swallowed, his expression hardening with the need to protect you, and then he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his chest. "Whatever happened, we’ll get through it," he promised, his voice thick with emotion. "You don’t need to bear this weight on your own."

Aventurine wasn’t a man who enjoyed days off. He thrived in chaos, in calculated risks, in the rush of winning impossible games. But even he knew that some things were more important than power and influence. And so, today, he had set aside time just for you, a break from the constant games of life. He had planned a date—a luxurious evening full of surprises and thrilling moments.

His signature grin stretched across his face as he strolled toward your quarters, his golden rings glinting in the light, his glasses perched at the perfect angle. His attire fluttered slightly in the wind, each step oozing with confidence.

But as he opened the door, the sight of you nearly stopped his heart. There you were, sitting on the floor in the middle of the room, your arms wrapped around yourself as you silently wept, your shoulders shaking.

His usual smile faltered, and for a brief moment, his bravado slipped. It was a look so foreign on him that anyone who might have seen it would have sworn he was someone else entirely—a man who had forgotten how to play the game.

"Aventurine..." you whispered through your tears, barely able to hold it together, your voice breaking as you looked up at him.

His heart twisted painfully in his chest. His usual self-assured confidence crumbled, and he took a slow step toward you, kneeling before you. The carefully crafted mask he wore for the world fell away as he softly cupped your face, wiping away the tears that stained your cheeks. "What happened? Why are you like this?" His voice was low, softer than you had ever heard it before, full of a deep vulnerability that he rarely let anyone see.

You told him about the family issue, the hurt and betrayal, and as you spoke, he listened. His mind raced as he worked to think of ways to fix it, to strategize an escape for you, to make you happy again. But all he could do in that moment was be present.

"You don’t have to carry this burden alone," he said, his voice steady yet filled with a quiet sincerity you hadn’t expected. "I’m here. And I’ll always be here." His hand reached out to gently tug you into his embrace, his chest rising and falling as if he were the one who needed the comfort.

"I’m not going anywhere," Aventurine murmured against your ear, his usual playful tone absent. "I’m staying right here with you, no matter the game."

[naffeclipse]

To Survive Pt. 2

Reader x Orca!Eclipse

Commission Info

I'm back with more cuteness requested by dear @crazedauthor with an orca!reader and orca!Eclipse. Now, the two of you have children, and things are so peaceful after so much grief. A little scare happens when you wake alone, but Eclipse arrives quickly to make it better. Family shenanigans occur.

Content Warnings: Mentions of death and blood, and a reader with children.

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On a crisp, pale morning, you open your eyes to a gentle new dawn. Awareness rushes you like a tide, but it does not drown you. The memory of the night before swishes against you, as soft as sea form, and you smile in your sleepy hazy.

You went to rest upon an ice shelf, carved into the side of a great wall towering pale blue over the Arctic sea, with your mate and children. In the arms of your love and cradling your two babies, one new, one a little grown, you drift into sweet, milky dreams. 

After agonies of loss and isolation, you have found your pod again.

This very home was hollowed out by Eclipse’s hands. Tirelessly, he worked when you both learned you were expecting a child. You’ve never seen him in such excitement. His eyes shone like shards of ice in sunlight and he never slowed a moment until you begged him to come hold you and sleep a while.

Your eyelids flutter, crusted with sleep. Lounging in the bliss of the quiet, you appreciate the stillness for so rarely is all so peaceful. Once the baby came, there were tiny cries little hands grasping, and tiny flukes flipping. Eclipse held the babe in his clawed hands with a tenderness that stirred you with emotions. You fed your little one and whispered promises. Your little pod is safe. Your little pod is whole.

Then the second child came, and now an eager toddler was swimming quickly away around a bend of ice only to be snatched by Eclipse and cooed at in rumbling tones. The baby stayed in your arms when Eclipse wasn’t trying to hold both. Their wriggling bodies combatted his strength and gentleness, and you would laugh.

Sighing gently, you turn over, mindful of your dorsal fin against the frozen floor. 

It’s quiet… Your mind returns to bloody seas and wicked nets tossed by human hands, then silence.

Your palms slide over the emptiness beside you. Bolting upright, your tail slaps against the floor in your alarm with a cool sting. You swivel your head. The dome blue of your home holds no refractions except for the barest light off of your body alone.

Your mate. Your babies. The youngest should be in your arms, mewling for milk. The eldest should have fussed long before the sun rose over the horizon for a playmate. Somewhere between, Eclipse should have kissed your shoulder and asked a question: what fish would you like for your morning meal?

You slept too long. Exhaustion should crawl at your edges and your patience should wear thin as your babies require ever-present attention. Horror crashes upon you. Adrenaline pumps through your veins as you thrust yourself off the ice shelf and into the icy waters below. Blubber and thick skin keep you safe from shock, but your heart swings against your rib cage and pounds against your sternum. Breathlessly, you intake air. You swim under the entrance and out into the vast expanse of the ocean.

Your pod. Where is your pod?

You cry out over the waves. A rawness invades your throat as Eclipse’s and your babies’ names drag at the vulnerable softness within you. Stinging arises at the corner of your eyes. Opening your arms, you dart back and forth over the entrance to your home. Do you set out to find them quickly or do you stay home should they return by themselves? 

The ringing in your ears peaks and then stops under a familiar echo of your name. Twisting in the waters, far out beyond the wall of ice, is your mate. He bobs above the surface. Brilliant red frills frame his face as his eyes land upon you. In his arms, he cradles your children.

Almost collapsing under the surface, you inhale a tight breath. You force another one through, and another, deepening each inhale and exhale until the constriction around your chest eases. 

The sight of your mate and babies keeps you afloat. 

Eclipse carefully swims and closes the distance between you. The moment he nears, you open your arms for the youngest one. Maffei. Your darling daughter. Her face is round and plump, and what tiny frills adorn her are deep with deep red and orange hues. Her arms are thick with fat rolls. Her tiny fists unfurl, and a squall leaves her in demand for your arms around her.

The eldest, Fornax, excitedly calls for his parent. You answer with reassurance. You are here. You gaze over your child, your lovely son, the firstborn of your pod. He pushes away from his father quickly, showing off the cool tones of his flukes and fin-tips. Eclipse told you he looks so much like, but you see his strength in Fornax’s smile, in the way he swims after a fish though he’s too slow now to catch one.

Eclipse suggested the names you so dearly treasure now. He’s imagined for many years children, and the names he had prepared are perfect for the bundles now wriggling in your arm and swimming around you like a tiny whirlpool. 

Now you both have a family.

“Maffei, Fornax,” you breathe and then hold Eclipse’s gaze. “Where were you?”

“I didn’t mean to frighten you, love.” He draws himself closer, resting an arm around your waist. You shift until your back rests against his chest. The familiar weight of his chin pressing lightly into your shoulder cools the rising panic within you. “I believed you would sleep longer. Don’t be afraid.”

For several moments, you collect yourself as Eclipse gathers you in his arms. He presses a kiss to the crook of your neck. Looking down at Maffei, she fits perfectly in your arms. She babbles lightly. Little coos rising and falling in musical notes lay a gentle hand over your heart.

Fornax splashes. The cool wave of water hits you gently, causing Maffei to squirm and pout her pink lips.

“Fornax,” Eclipse says in a firm but gentle voice, “Don’t splash your sister.”

“Sorry, papa.” Your son’s tail flicks. A slight sheepishness overtakes him as he drifts up to you and looks down at his little sister in your arms. “Sorry, Maffei.”

“Good boy,” you murmur and bow to press a kiss to his forehead.

He smiles with small, nubby teeth lining his gums before darting away with another ripple. The water crashes against each other. You keep Maffei shielded this time. 

Eclipse rumbles a pleased sound. Looking back down at you, he presses his cheek against your head.

“Are you alright?” he asks in a low rasp.

“Yes.” You crook your finger and softly brush Maffei’s cheek. “I am now.”

“You looked so weary,” Eclipse continues softly. The vibrations in his chest touch your spine. “Last night, you were up so late with Maffei. I meant to return before you awoke. The little ones were so eager to spend energy. It is my duty as your mate and their father to take care of you all.”

He brushes the hair from your forehead softly. You lean deeper into his touch while watching Fornax explore a side of the ice shelf, touching and digging at loose bits of the frigid wall.  

“They are very rambunctious,” you tease and turn back to grin at Eclipse. “Just like you.”

He laughs, deep and hearty. Maffei gives a small cry of complaint. You can smell the faint scent of milk on her. Eclipse coos sweetly.

“Little love, don’t fuss. We’re both here. It’s alright.” Eclipse tenderly strokes Maffei’s head. Seemingly content with the attention, she leans against your chest and settles. Her tiny tail is not yet developed enough for swimming on her own. She requires constant arms to hold her above the surface as her ability to hold her breath grows stronger and stronger.

You turn slowly back to Eclipse. Your heart has grown softer and fonder of your mate since watching him as a father. He is attentive and constant in his efforts to provide for their every need. 

Gently, you press a kiss to Eclipse’s mouth. His eyes, twin flames of burning yellow and red, widen before he returns the gesture with equal fervor. He pushes gently and cradles your mouth with his before releasing you.

“You are a wonderful father,” you speak softly. “You are the most loving mate. And this,” you look at your children, “feels like home.”

Eclipse’s tail flicks underneath you as his body seems to tremble with emotion before he gently presses his forehead to yours.

“How so, my love? Tell me all,” he demands in a rumble.

You take a moment and fall back to days when you were in the shelter of your mother’s arms, and your aunts would sing lullabies to your younger cousins. 

“Babies were held close, and everyone offered a hand,” you recount gently the memories of your childhood, “No one went without.”

You gently tickle Maffei’s chin, and she grabs your finger with her fat little hand. She gives you a searing look. A soft laugh escapes from you. You apologize to her before she returns to settle against your bosom.

“My mother would have loved to hold our babies,” you whisper softly.

“Yes,” Eclipse rumbles low, “My mother would have been pleased to see our children, and she would approve of my mate.”

You flush softly at such a thought, then grow somber within it. Despite all the pain, you are both still here. Your family is beautiful and worth every moment of agony.

Fornax returns but stops short of splashing Maffei. He instead treads slightly to swim around Eclipse, and tug at his arm, begging for a playmate.

A wicked grin spread across Eclipse’s maw.

“My father would play with me often,” he begins, and you eye him suspiciously as he takes Fornax under the arms. “Like this.”

He lifts Fornax above the surface. His body is small and slipstream, and his tail drips heavily back to the sea as he giggles at a high-pitched sound. To your dismay, Eclipse tosses the child over the surface and back into the water with a heavy splash.

“Eclipse!” you shout, aghast. 

Flicking up small waves, Eclipse darts for Fornax and scoops up your not-so-little baby, and he’s laughing. The boy demands relentlessly that Eclipse toss him once more. Thundering in joy, Eclipse obliges. Fornax sails through the air and back into the water with a furious splash. 

“Eclipse,” your voice climbs shrilly. “Stop tossing my son around like a baby seal!”

“I would never allow harm to befall him,” Eclipse promises in a mischievous roll of his tongue. 

“Again! Do it again, papa!” Fornax slaps the water with his hands and his tail cuts through the salty brine.

Then Maffei turns in your arms. Her little eyes fall on her brother and father playing roughly along the surface, and she chortles in a way that reminds you of Eclipse. Her tiny face ignites with delight.

Slowly, with all forces against you, you relax. Fornax beams brightly when he emerges from another tossing. Constantly, Eclipse is calculating, carefully adjusting the throwing of his son and watching him closely to ensure there is no harm done.

Perhaps he might feel your radiating judgment, for Eclipse turns back. He tucks Fornax underneath his arm and drags him back to you despite your son's protests and needing to be thrown once more over the waves. 

He nears, a great grin splitting his maw. You are helpless in returning the gesture in the radiating heat of his joy. His arms surround you, and Fornax is caught in the embrace as well as Maffei. 

Looking down softly over his pod, Eclipse surveys you quietly. Fornax wraps his arms around you in kind. He blows raspberries at his sister who giggles quietly. Their tiny tails squirm against your side, and you feel at peace.

“I will always protect our pod,” he declares, his eyes searing with his intent and truth.

Your heart swells in your chest. Pushing close, you kiss Eclipse sweetly, until the baby fusses and Fornax asks when he can be tossed again.

You will never lose your pod again.

[aemondloverr]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐭. 𝐈𝐕

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐂𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐧 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦!𝐕𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐧!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟓 • 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟑 • 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 • 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 <- sign yourself up!!

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: You've settled into Winterfell and now, a feast will be held in the honor of You and Jace. Your handmaidens Martha, and Sara help you prepare while you talk about the possibilities of a friendship with Cregan, and maybe even more than that.

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: Lots of mixed feelings, gossip of Cregan, and a not so bratty Jace this time (rare occurance fr).

𝐰𝐜: 4.8k

𝐀/𝐍: Truly sorry for the delay, I'll be better 😔 and spoiler, the rest of feast happens in the NEXT chapter bc I had to split it up. It was getting to be too long! Not proofread so SORRY IN ADVANCE for typos😭

❆ • ❆ • ❆ • ❆

𝐑𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐩:

"Okay.. Well um...Good luck on the hunt then. Go catch something big for me."

"You know I will," He replies, trying to sound confident. "I'll bring home the biggest buck you've ever seen."

"If you say so..." you taunt.

He grins, confidence rising at your doubtful tone. He cant let that go unchallenged. "Oh I do say so. I'll get that dance, just you wait."

"Off you go then."

As Cregan heads off to the stables, he can't shake the feeling of your prescence from his mind. The thought of you and the implications made still lingered, stirring up a maelstrom of emotions within him.

Maybe the things you said you hadn't done with Cregan, you wish you had.

He really just doesn't want any other lord to end up dancing with you. The image of another man, holding you in his arms makes his stomach churn uncomfortably. His mind fills with the image of him dancing with you and his heart quickens.

But then his thoughts take a more intimate turn and his imagination spirals out of control. Him holding you close, bodies pressed together, an embrace that borders on indecent. He can almost feel your warmth just thinking about it.

Cregan knows he shouldn't be thinking such things but he cant help it. That image of you, so close yet so far from his grasp, is consuming his mind and burning in his core like a raging fire.

❆ • ❆ • ❆ • ❆

later in the day

You've spent the afternoon in your chambers, taking a nap, break from the stress of the day. You relish the quiet and solitude without the presence of anyone else.

Your peaceful silence is interrupted by the sound of commotion outside as the hunting party returns from the Wolfswood. The chatter of loud voices rouse you from your sleep.

Just as you start to stir, there's a soft knock at the door, followed by the voices of your handmaids, Martha and Sara.

"Yes, come in."

They open the door and slip into your room, looking a bit concerned.

"What it is?"

Martha speaks up. "There are all back, my Lady. But the men are all...well, they're a bit rowdy."

"I bet they're probably arguing over whose game is biggest." you chuckle to yourself at the thought.

"That's certainly part of it. They've been boasting and arguing about their kills. They all thing they hunted the largest stag.

"Well I'll be the one to decide that."

Sara and Martha both smile at your words, clearly amused by the antics of the men.

"I'm sure they'll be eager!" says Martha, holding a basket of items in her hands as you stand from the edge of the bed.

“Sara, would you have the men with the smallest game to give their catches to the kitchens after they skin them?”

Sara nods obediently, taking mental note of your instructions.

"Of course, my lady," she says. “I'll make sure the cooks receive the smallest game from the men."

That leaves Martha. "I'll prepare a bath for you." she offers, already heading to the bathing room to start drawing the steaming water.

As you undress, she pours scented oils into the hot water, filling the room with a pleasant aroma of vanilla and honey. You remove your shift, left in just your undergarments.

You step into the bathing room, the warm, soothing steam enveloping you as you walk to the large tub, The room is dimly lit, flickering candlelight casting a soft intimate glow across the walls of the room.

Taking off your undergarments, you step into the tub. The heat and the gentle fragrances of the oils seem to sooth your skin, making you feel relaxed in an instant.

"Thank you Martha..."

She smiles at your words, hands pausing as she finishes adding a handful of herbs to the bath. "Of course. Is the water to your liking?Not too hot?"

"Perfection." you sink further into the calming water.

Martha nods with a satisfied smile, as the heat erases any remaining tension from your weary muscles.

"So..." She says with a mischievous knowing look in her eye. Her tone catches your attention and you look up at her, a curious expression on your face. "Yes?..." you ask, bracing yourself for whatever teasing comment she may have for you.

"I just wanted to ask, my lady, has anything...interesting happened between you and Lord Stark lately?"

"Oh Gods what did Sara tell you?!"

Martha laughs. "Oh nothing specific," she replies feigning innocence. "But you know sara...she's a bit of a gossip, and she's been hinting at some...interesting things happening between you and Lord Stark."

"Nothings happened, I assure you." Your face reddens in embarrassment as you dismiss the accusations. "Our relationship is strictly professional, and maybe friendly but that is all." But really, in your head, you're thinking about how your relationship could be more.

Martha raises a brow , clearly not entirely convinced by your dismissive tone. She smirks, "That's what you say, Princess, but your blushing face tells a different story."

She steps closer to the tub, leaning against it as she looks at you knowingly. "Come on, you can be honest with me. "She teases. "Is there really nothing more?"

"You and Sara are just trouble, aren't you."

She laughs, smile widening as she catches the hint of annoyance in your tone. "Oh, come on, We're just having a bit of fun. Can you really blame us? Nothing ever goes on in this damned castle, and you and Lord Stark make an entertaining pair..."

You don't want to give in but- "If you want to know what goes on badly I'll tell you."

Her eyes widen in surprise and excitement, clearly not expecting you to actually share your details about your relationship with Cregan. She nods eagerly. "Yes, please my Lady!" she says, voice impatient. "Tell me everything!"

"Absolutely nothing." you state flatly.

Her face falls, disappointment apparent on her face as you give her the most un-interesting answer possible. "Wait, that's it?" she asks, excitement fading to disbelief. "Nothing at all? No stolen glances, no secret conversations?"

"No. All we do is argue and make amends and argue and make amends again."

You scrub your arms with a soapy cloth while Martha washes your legs. "You're killing me Princess," she says You and Lord Stark are like a never ending cycle of petty arguments and reconciliations. Its like watching 2 children bicker"

"I know, I know."

"Honestly, with all your bickering and back and forth, its a wonder neither of you have stabbed each other yet," she teases.

You scoff. "Oh trust me, I've wanted to."

She glances down at you in the tub. "And what stopped you? Your sense of restraint or the lack of a weapon?"

"It was his kindness..."

Her expression softens slightly at your words. She seems touched by your answer, not expecting such sincerity. "Ah so it was his kindness that stopped you...interesting...but also not entirely surprising."

you continue to scrub the rest of your body while Martha moves around the other side of the tub to scrub your back.

"I can't be cruel when he'd so kind to me..."

"You know my Lady, kindness can be a powerful thing. It can make even the strongest person weak in the knees."

You sit hugging a knee to your chest and hair forward over your shoulder, continuing to let her wash your back. "He wishes to be friends again, but I'm...hesitant."

She pauses her work, hands stilling for a moment as she gazes down at you with a look on concern.

"Why are you hesitant? If you both want to be friends again, what's holding you back?"

"After what he did when we were children, I'd rather not take that risk again..."

Martha nods, her understanding written on her face. She resumes washing your back, movements gentle and soothing.

"I understand. You’ve already been hurt by him once. Its natural to be wary of opening yourself up to the possibility of that pain again..."

You sigh deeply "I haven't even forgiven him yet."

She finishes up and sets the cloth aside, glancing at you with an empathetic expression. "Its alright my Lady. Forgiveness takes time and its okay to need more of it," she says. "But...perhaps you could at least consider his offer of friendship. Just a thought."

You ponder for a minute, considering the outcomes. If you don't give him that chance, he has no opportunity to hurt you again, whether intentionally or unintentionally. But if you do allow whatever it is that's there between you, it could grow into something beautiful.

"Ill try...maybe."

Martha smiles, one of encouragement and support. "That's all anyone can ask for Princess. Just take it one step at a time and see where it leads. Who knows. Maybe friendship with Lord Stark will surprise you!"

"Perhaps your right."

She sits back at the stool by the tub, satisfied that she's managed to assure you, even if its just a little. "Sometimes, the unexpected is worth taking a chance on, no?," She says, voice full of optimism.

Martha offers a helping hand as you rise from the bath, the water cascading off your body and leaving you bare and wet. She grabs a towel and wraps it around you, the soft fabric enveloping you in a warm embrace.

"Could you get Sara for me? She should be back from the kitchens by now but she isn't.”

She nods, her hands still on the towel, holding it closed around you.

"Of course, my lady. I'll get Sara right away," She then steps away from you, moving to the door to summon Sara.

As they walk down the dimly lit corridor from the kitchens, Sara listens intently to Martha's words, her expression a mix of surprise and intrigue. She fills Sara in on your conversation in the bath, including your hesitation to forgive Lord Cregan and your contemplation of his offer of friendship.

Sara's eyes widen with a face of disbelief.

"You mean, my lady is thinking about being friends with Lord Cregan again?" she whispers, her voice filled with a mix of excitement and curiosity.

"Yes thats exactly what she said," she replies with a smile "Seems like our Lady is softening towards the man, even if its just a bit."

As Martha and sara enter the room, they find you sitting on the edge of your bed in a robe. "Lets pick a dress."

Sara nods, eyes scanning over the assortment of dresses laid out across the room.

"How about this one my Lady?" She suggests, holding up a light blue dress for your approval.

"Mmm...too simple."

She sets the dress aside and Martha grabs a green dress this time, holding it up for you to see. "What about this one then?" The fabric shimmers in the candlelight. Lovely dress but the color...it reminded you of Alicent. That foul woman.

"The greens are called the greens for a reason. I will not wear enemy colors to a feast in my honor."

Martha rushes to put away the dress, apologizing hastily. "Forgive me Princess I didn't mean..."

"No its alright." you assure.

Sara continues persuing the selection. She picks up the red one next, its hue a deep, rich shade—crimson, almost like blood. The fabric is smooth with lace details and the slight shimmer to it catches in the light.

"I think this color would loook lovely on you!"

"Yes, how could I forget this dress! I couldn't ignore it at the market, I simply had buy it."

Sara sets the dress on the bed, carefully smoothing out the wrinkles. "You'll look gorgeous in it."

"Thank you for your help girls."

Sara and Martha smile at you gratitude, satisfied that youve finally settled on a dress. Their expressions are filled with genuine affection for you.

"Of course, my Lady," Says Martha. "We are always happy to help you look your best."

You begin to apply oil, working it into your skin when Sara asks "May i ask you a question?"

"Yes?" The oil has the most pleasant smell, just like the sweet vanila and honey oils from the bath.

"I was jut wondering..." she starts, voice growing softer and more hesitant as she choses her words. "Do you...do you think you would ever consider more than friendship with Lord Stark."

You pause for a moment at the unexpected question.

They both notice the brief pause, and Saras expression subtly shifts to one with a hint worry as she watches you while Martha just waits patiently and curiously for a response.

"I think...I wouldn't be accustomed to that."

Sara studies your face for a moment, her head tilting slightly to the side as she processes your words. She seems to understand your hesitation, her expression softening into a gentle smile.

"I see..." she says, voice low and soft. "You mean, friendship is all you're used to with him, and anything more would feel unfamiliar to you, right?”

“I think about it, if I’m being truthful…how it would be if we…” blood rushes to your cheeks just as earlier at the thought of being with him.

Martha and Sara both watch you intently, their eyes studying your face as you delve into your thoughts. Sara takes a step closer, her voice filled with concern and curiosity.

"If you and Lord Cregan were to... be more than friends?" she ventures, a hint of nervousness in her voice.

“Yes…”

They exchange a brief glance, both clearly invested in hearing your thoughts on the matter.

"And what... what do you feel about that possibility?" Martha asks, her voice growing softer and more gentle as she encourages you to continue.

You cannot bring yourself to confront your possible feeling for him again so you drop the subject.

“I feel we should talk about something else…”

They immediately pick up on your reluctance to discuss the matter further and exchange another quick glance before nodding in understanding.

"Of course, my lady," Martha says, her voice soft and respectful. She gestures towards the red dress on the bed. "We should get you dressed now."

Martha helps you into your smallclothes, then into the chemise, pulling the soft fabric over your body. Once you’re settled, she adjusts the straps and tucks any loose fabric back in place, ensuring it is fitting perfectly.

Then, Sara helps you put on the stays, fastening them and lacing up corset tightly, accentuating your curves. Sara carefully drapes the red dress over your head and begins adjusting it to fit your form.

The fit is snug, hugging your waist and hips tightly before flowing out in an elegant flare as well as a squared neckline that frames your chest and b neck. It has sleeves that open just before your forearms, and almost down to the floor, giving the illusion of graceful drapes.

“Would you style my hair just like last time?”

Both Martha and Sara nod in agreement, their eyes sweeping over you in approval.

"Yes, my lady," Sara replies, her voice firm and confident. "The same hair as last time would suit you perfectly."

Sara braids your hair in that Northern style once again, the one Cregan liked. While Martha busies herself gathering up your unpicked dresses, folding them neatly and setting them aside. As she works, she glances up at Sara, who is already almost finished braiding your hair.

“Jewelry?”

They both not. Sara's hands continue to work on your intricate braid, her fingers moving with sure and steady movements. Meanwhile, Martha begins pulling together a selection of jewelry, holding up different necklaces, bracelets, and earrings for your inspection.

As you gesture towards a particular necklace, both Martha and Sara immediately agree with you. Martha lifts up a necklace made of deep red rubies and glossy black onyx stones, its design elegant and eye-catching. It matches the dress perfectly.

Sara also nods in approval, her eyes fixed on the necklace as she finishes up braiding your hair is re-styled in the same lovely fashion that Cregan had admired just that same morning . "A lovely choice, my lady," she says, her voice filled with admiration.

“No one will see my shoes so I suppose the black ones?”

They quickly scan the selection, a wide array of shoes before Martha picks up a pair of sleek, black boots with a heel, made of soft suede leather, sure to keep your feet warm in the cold.

"These ones, my lady?" she asks, holding them up for your approval.

“Yes those please.”

Martha steps forward, kneeling at your feet and gently slipping the boots onto your feet, fastening the small buckles.

And the last addition, the black pelt that matches with the dress.

They bring it over, the furs soft and warm in their hands, and gently drape it over your shoulders. The fur contrasts nicely with the deep red of your dress, its texture adding an extra element of elegance to your appearance.

It’s not Cregans pelt, the one you slept in for warmth last night, or wore to the market this morning. It doesn’t have the same oversized look or comforting weight but its cute, matches with your dress, and makes you look as regal as your name sounds.

“I think a bit of stain on the lips would look nice…what do you think Sara?” She smiles at your suggestion, clearly pleased by your request. She reaches into a nearby drawer and pulls out a small pot of a deep red stain. "Of course, my lady. A touch of color on the lips would look beautiful. Let me apply it for you."

She brushes on a faint bit of red to your lips, just like the color of your dress and it brings your look together.

“I give my thanks to you both.”

Martha and Sara step back, taking a moment to admire their handiwork, smiling approvingly, clearly impressed with how elegant and radiant you look in your dress, furs, jewelry, and hair. They seem to have almost forgotten to breathe, admiring your beauty for a moment before speaking.

"By the gods…you look absolutely gorgeous, Princess," Sara says, her voice filled with admiration. "Indeed," Martha agrees, a small smile tugging at her lips. "You're bound to turn heads."

As the handmaidens continue to admire your appearance, you can't help but think about Cregan's reaction when he sees you in your new dress. You imagine him looking at you with awe and admiration, his eyes taking in every detail of your form-fitting dress and elegant furs. The thought of his reaction makes your heart flutter with excitement, and warmth build in your chest.

“Will I see you later?”

They nod, their smiles widening as you prepare to leave. "Of course, my Lady. Have a wonderful evening," Martha says.

"We'll be here when you return," Sara adds, already moving to clean up the mess left over from preparing you for Cregan.

As you turn to leave, Martha stops you. “Princess one more thing!”

You half in your steps, turning to look at Martha

"Yes, Martha?" You ask with a curious tone.

She wants to give you perfume oil

Martha nods, her expression softening as she produces a small glass vial filled with a clear, shimmering liquid. The scent emanating from the vial is subtle yet inviting, a mixture of florals and fruits. Vanilla and honey again, but this time with a hint of citrus.

You don’t know where she got oranges in this bone chilling climate but you are grateful for it.

"I thought you'd like this one, my lady," Martha explains. "It's light and sweet but not overpowering. Perfect to finish off your look for tonight." And perfect to make Cregan lose his mind

You nods in thanks as Martha hands you the vial. You remove the cork and gently dab a small amount of the oil behind each ear, and on your wrists, the scent enveloping your senses with its delicate fragrance.

“Where did you get this…?”

"I mixed it myself," Martha responds, a hint of pride in her voice. "I like to experiment with different scents, combining different oils and extracts to create unique perfumes. This one, I call it 'Lady's Whisper.' It's my personal favorite and I thought it would suit you well."

“My Gods this is magnificent! Keep making it. I’ll buy it if you let me!”

Martha's eyes light up at your praise, her smile widening as a blush of pleasure creeps up her cheeks. She nods in agreement, her voice filled with determination.

"I will, my lady," Martha affirms. "I'll continue to perfect the recipe and make more for you. I'm glad you like it so much."

“I’ll see you when I come back, and yes, I’ll tell you all that happened.”

Martha and Sara grin, the excitement in their eyes reflecting her eagerness to hear all the details. Martha nods silently, her hand flying to her mouth to suppress a girlish giggle.

"Of course. We’ll be waiting anxiously for your return. You simply must tell us all about it!"

As you step out of your chambers, you find yourself facing Jace’s chambers. His door is slightly ajar, a soft glow of candlelight spilling out into the hall. You can vaguely make out his silhouette pacing back and forth beyond the doorway.

You push open the door. “Are you ready?”

Jace turns swiftly upon hearing your voice, his eyes immediately drinking in the sight of you. His mouth falls open slightly, surprise and awe written all over his face. He’s not one to compliment you, especially because you’re his sibling so you know he really means it.

He stares at you for a few seconds, speechless, before finally managing to collect himself.

"You... you look incredible," he says, the words breathless and reverential on his lips.

“Thank you. Now let’s go before we show up late to or own feast.”

Jace nods, still somewhat dazed by your appearance, but he pulls himself together. He takes your arm in his, gently tucking it into the crook of his elbow.

"Let's go," he says, his voice steadier now. A hint of excitement and anticipation shining in his eyes.

As you and Jace walk arm-in-arm through the halls and outside t othe great hall, a couple of servants pause as they pass, their eyes widening in surprise and admiration as you walk by. They murmur amongst themselves, their voices filled with hushed whispers and murmurs of approval.

The doors to the great hall come into view, the murmur of voices and the clinking of glasses filling the air. A few people are already inside, but the majority of the guests have not yet arrived for the feast.

The doors swing open, revealing the great hall beyond. It is a large, opulent room, its high ceilings dripping with garlands of flowers and strings of colorful lanterns. Servants rush back and forth, preparing the tables and maneuvering around the clusters of people gathered in the room.

Heads begin to turn towards you, eyes widening in awe and admiration as they take in your appearance. With Jace following behind you, you make your way up to the high table, taking the seat next to where Cregan will soon sit. Jace helps you into you into your chair, pulling it out for you.

From this vantage point, you have an excellent view of the entire room, everything from the musicians playinhg in one corner to the nobles dancing about in the other.

Cregan has yet to arrive because of the hunt. He's with the rest of the men. As the hour of the feast draws near, the servants scurry around the space with platters of drinks and morsels of food.

As if in cue, the sound of male laughter fills the room. The hunting party has arrived, as well as the rest of the guests, the men still in their leather jerkins and boots, clearly worn out from their hours spent in the wilderness.

Led by Cregan, the men approach the high table, their eyes sweeping over the room and taking in the array of decorations and the assembled nobles. A cheer goes up from the crowd, many of them rising to clap. Even the musicians change their songs to something more victorious and uplifting in their honor.

Cregan reaches the high table, eyes meeting yours for the briefest of moments as he takes his seat beside you. The rest of the men disperse, each finding a seat with their family or amongst the tables of nobles.

"You smell of mud and forest.." you observe.

He quirks and eyebroow in response to your comment, eyes drifting over to you. ahint on a smirk tugs at him mouth, as in amused by the bluntness of your words. "Indeed do," he replies with a chuckle. "A byproduct of a long day spent hunting, in your honor, might I add."

His eyes dart to Jace, who has slumped into his chair on your other side, his expression still sour and sullen.

“Sit straight child.” you order.

Jace lets out an irritated huff as you call him a child, but he reluctantly straightens his back and sits up straight in his seat, begrudgingly complying with your command, though his expression remains sullen.

Suddenly, his eyes widen. a pleasant scent fills his nose. He turns back towards you, inhaling deeply. He looks at you, clearly curious about the source of the scent.

He leans in close to you, his tone a murmur so that only you can hear him. "What is that smell...?

"What smell?"

He leans in even closer, fixiated on you. He leans in even closer, his voice barely above a whisper, breath hot against your ear. "That scent...I dont recognize it." He pauses, trying to place it. "Where did you get it?"

You hold your wrist to his nose and he follows your cue, his hand closing aroundyour wrist and lifting it closer to him. His nose grazes your skin, lips nearly brushing against your pulse point as he inhales the scent again.

It makes heat rise up your neck. A hum escapes from his throat, almost like a pleasurable sound. He's clearly affected by the fragrance your'e wearing.

"This one? Do you like it." Oh he definately doesn’t like it. Its clear he loves it, because when you try and put your arm back down he doesn't let you. Cregan keeps his eyes shut, his hand still holding your wrist. He inhales once more, savoring the scent. He nods, opening his eyes to look at you, mind slightly dazed

"Yes," he murmurs, "i like it. A lot."

You'd expected a compliment or two from him but drooling like he is? You hadn't seen that coming. "Well thank you…That's very kind of you."

It looks like Martha really knew her stuff. That oil could make a man fall to his knees for a woman. To him, it made you smell deliciously sweet. Delectable even.

Cregan releases your wrist finally, hand falling away from your arm. The absence of his touch leaves a tingling feeling on your skin, a strange sensation that makes your heartbeat quicken ever so slightly.

He leans back in his seat, eyes roaming over you once more, as if studying you. After a moment, he speaks again, his voice quieter this time.

"May I ask where you got it?"

"Yes, Martha made it."

"Martha you say?" he asks voice tinged with curiosity, impressed by the fact that she had the skill to create such a stunning fragrance. "And she mixed it herself...?"

"Yes, I was just as surprised as you."

He leans in again unexpectedly, voice low and soft. "I can also smell something else on you, if I'm not mistaken."

"Like what?"

His nose brushes against the line of your jaw. The sound of him breathing you in sends a shiver down your spine, and you can feel your pulse quicken in response. He doesn’t care how indecent his actions look, not when you smell like such a dessert.

"The faint, sweet scent of oranges, he murmurs, voice thick with barely restrained want. More like need.

You feel your ears and cheeks burning up "Y-yes you are correct. Martha put oils in my bath this evening."

He leans back once more, eyes roaming over your face. The flush thats crept up your neck and cheeks....The scent of you is seemingly even more tantalizing now.

"You smell positively delicious." he says in a teasing tone.

And where is Jace in all this? Sitting beside you, arms crossed and scowling, giving the dirtiest look imaginable in Cregans direction. He's been observing the interaction between you and Cregan with growing suspision of his intentions. But he says nothing, merely clenches his jaw and seethes silently.

"Thank you Lord Stark..."

He glances over at Jace, noticing the look on his face, but he disregards it, his attention entire focused on you, showering you with affection and compliments.

"Your'e very welcome" he responds with a sincere voice, eyes lingering on your face a few seconds longer than needed.

"So um...How was your hunt?" You ask, to shift the conversation away from you. You need a moment to slow your heart and compose yourself before you start stumbling over your words at his proximity.

"Quite large. Five stags, a boar, and two does, all in one day. It was an excellent hunt."

"Do you think yours is the largest?" you already know, something else of his is definately large

Cregan scoffs, his confidence unshaken by the question as he responds without hesitation.

"I know it is. No one else will have a kill as impressive as mine, I can assure you of that.

"Well you'd better hope I think so."

The guests find their seats and settle in for an evening of celebration and merriment. The air is filled with the buzz of conversation and the sound of laughter.

“Bring out the hunters game!”

❆ • ❆ • ❆ • ❆ Next chapter is coming at break. ITS GONNA EAT, JUST WAIT. (Might be extra long. If I don’t upload by then just know I’m super busy!!h

Ps. If you want me to do a Christmas special for Cregan (outside the storyline) give me ideas in the comments 🫶🏾

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[sallowsarchives]

Clash and Convergence

Part I | Part II | Part III

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader Summary: Tensions are running high as you continue to grapple with your conflicting emotions. However, with another job thrusting you both back into close proximity, could this new development be the key to easing the tension and mending the rift between you once more? Word Count: 8.2k  Warnings/Tags: no use of y/n, angst, gunfights, injury, canon-typical danger, dead bodies (nothing too graphic), not proofread!! A/N: Hey again! Alright so compared to the last chapter, I've taken some creative liberties and sort of deviated from the canon for this one, so I’m hoping this one turns out good. Also, no smut for this part but I promise it’s coming in the next chapter, which I hope to finish as soon as I can. I hope you enjoy this chapter, and feedback is always appreciated!

Read on AO3

A few weeks had passed since that night, yet despite the passage of time, the unspoken tension between you and Arthur remained. 

In the first few days after the party, you withdrew into yourself, steering clear of the usual banter and small talk. You went about your tasks with mechanical precision, your movements efficient but devoid of the usual liveliness.

The memory of the events that occurred lingered in the back of your mind, casting a shadow over your usual routines. Your tried to bury those thoughts, focusing on the small, manageable tasks that kept your hands busy and your mind occupied.

Lately, the days had been filled with nothing but the usual activities—scouting for potential heists, tending to horses, helping with chores, and maintaining the camp.

Arthur was rarely at the camp, often off on some job Dutch had given him. Some days, you'd catch him heading to his horse early in the morning, riding out to God knows where and wouldn’t return for a few days. When he did, he'd usually arrive with freshly caught game or extra cash to contribute.

On the days he was gone, the camp felt a little quieter, a little less tense. His absences were a small blessing, giving you the space needed to collect your thoughts and maintain the fragile peace between you both. During those times, you could almost pretend that things were as they once were.

But on the days he was present, you both made a concerted effort to avoid each other. Conversations were brief and strained, and any interaction was kept to a bare minimum.

He often busied himself with tasks around the camp—chopping wood, organizing supplies, and carrying hay bales to the horses as if they weighed nothing.

When he wasn’t working, he’d sit by the campfire, engaging in small conversations with the others or scribbling in his journal. On some days, he’d spend the entirety of his time hidden away in his room.

You, on the other hand, would retreat to the outskirts of the camp until Miss Grimshaw scolded you, at which point you'd bury yourself in tasks of your own, your demeanor just as distant. 

You found solace in the routine of chores, focusing on the small, manageable tasks that allowed you to avoid any unnecessary interaction with Arthur. 

You missed the days when you'd head into town with the girls or accompany some of the men for small jobs where you’d use your nimble fingers to good use. Blending into the bustling crowds, you’d quietly lift wallets and purses from unsuspecting townsfolk, finding a strange satisfaction in the simplicity and thrill of the task. 

But lately, with the Pinkertons breathing down the gang's necks even more, there hadn’t been much in the way of work. The lack of action only heightened the tension, making the days drag on with a restless energy that seemed to seep into every part of your life.

Before long, the unease between you and Arthur became palpable to those around you. The camp was abuzz with quiet speculation, though the mood remained outwardly unaffected.

Conversations with the others were tinged with curiosity as they noticed the stark shift from the usual lively banter to the strained silence that now characterized your interactions. 

The frequent arguments and sharp exchanges had given way to a stifling quiet, and it didn’t take long for the gang members to sense that something was off between you two. The change in dynamic was unusual and unsettling, prompting whispered conversations and knowing glances among the camp.

One evening, as you were helping Pearson with the supplies, you overheard Javier and Bill talking by the fire. 

“Have you noticed how quiet it’s been without those two at each other’s throats?” Bill said, shaking his head.

Javier nodded, glancing discreetly over at you. “Yeah, it’s strange. Almost miss the excitement.”

Lenny and Karen, who had joined the group, shared their own takes. 

“It’s strange,” Lenny said. “I mean, they’d always bicker and fight, but there was some kind of spark to it. Now, it’s just… cold. A whole lot of nothin’.”

“You’d think they’d have worked it out after gettin’ the chance to spend time together. But it’s like whatever went down just left a permanent chill between ’em,” Karen added.

Pearson, catching the conversation, gave you a look but said nothing. You simply shrugged and continued with your task, trying to ignore the growing weight of the situation.

Though the camp had noticed the shift between the two of you, no one had really confronted you about it—except for one person. 

Hosea, ever the keen observer, had picked up on the change in demeanor from you and Arthur during the ride back after the party. 

That night, as soon as you arrived at camp, you dismounted the coach before anyone even had a chance to offer a greeting and headed straight into the house without a word. 

The usual warmth of the campfire and the lively chatter that greeted the return of its members felt distant and muted to you, a stark contrast to the storm of emotions churning inside. 

Arthur had watched you storm off with a mix of frustration and concern, feeling a pang of guilt but too wrapped up in his own stubborn pride to approach you. His internal conflict was evident, as he struggled with his own emotions while grappling with the distance growing between you both. 

The weight of his own pride and the fear of further complicating things kept him from reaching out. He knew he was part of the issue, yet he couldn’t bring himself to make things right, leaving him brooding by the fire long after you had disappeared into the house.

Hosea didn’t miss the tension in the air as you left abruptly or the way Arthur’s mood had darkened. He watched Arthur’s restless movements, the firelight dancing over his face and revealing a rare glimpse of vulnerability and frustration. The usual calm and quiet confidence Arthur exuded was replaced by visible agitation, a stark contrast to the man Hosea had come to know.

At first, Hosea hadn’t thought much of it, assuming it was just another round of the aftermath from the usual quips and disagreements between you and Arthur. But as weeks went by and the tension persisted, he began to sense that something deeper was at play.

Fast forward to now, as you were engrossed in cleaning a rifle— which Hosea had actually gifted you after witnessing your impressive marksmanship on a hunt you had accompanied him on—you caught sight of him approaching out of the corner of your eye. 

"Mind if I join you?" he asked gently, settling himself on a nearby log. His tone was casual but his eyes held a deep concern. "I've been meaning to check in, see how you're doin' after the party."

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak without betraying the turmoil inside. Hosea sat down beside you, watching as you continued to clean the rifle, the rhythmic motion of your hands almost mechanical.

He hesitated for a moment before speaking, his voice soft and careful. "I, uh, noticed you’ve seemed a bit... off since that night. You've been keepin' to yourself more, and there's not as much of that fiery spirit you usually show. I don't mean to pry, but, well, I reckon somethin' happened, didn't it?"

You looked up, meeting his gaze. There was no judgment in his eyes, only an open, sympathetic understanding. Sighing, you tried to find the right words. 

“Arthur and I just had a… disagreement. Nothing that hasn’t happened before.”

“Disagreements are one thing, but this feels different,” Hosea said, his voice carrying a hint of concern. “I’ve seen you two go at it before, but there’s a coldness now that wasn’t there before. Something’s weighing heavy on both of you. You want to talk about it?”

You shrugged, trying to keep your tone nonchalant. “It’s really not that big of a deal, Hosea. Just a rough patch, like always.”

Hosea’s brows furrowed slightly, but he didn’t push further. 

“Alright. Just don’t let it fester. If you need to talk, you know where to find me.”

You nodded, giving him a tight smile. “Thanks, Hosea. I appreciate the concern, but I’m fine. Just need to keep busy.”

With that, you turned your attention back to the rifle, the rhythmic motion of your cleaning a soothing distraction from the thoughts clouding your mind. Hosea left you to your task, though his concerned gaze lingered a moment longer before he walked away, leaving you with your uneasy thoughts.

You knew his concern was genuine, but you were determined to keep things at a distance and focus on moving forward, despite the emotional undercurrents swirling beneath the surface.

You took a deep breath, letting the familiarity of the rifle and the routine of your task provide a semblance of control amid the chaos of your feelings.

Later that evening, as the campfire crackled and cast flickering shadows around the camp, you sat with Abigail, the two of you enjoying a rare moment of light conversation.

The warmth of the fire was a welcome contrast to the chill in the night air, and Javier’s gentle guitar strumming in the background added a soothing ambiance to the evening, offering a brief respite from the weight of your thoughts.

As you and Abigail chatted, enjoying the peaceful atmosphere, the quiet rustling of footsteps and the gentle clearing of a throat drew your attention. Turning around, you saw Arthur standing there, his expression guarded yet earnest.

Arthur had arrived at camp some time in the afternoon, his presence marked by the familiar rhythm of his horse’s hooves and the clink of his spurs as he carried in another fresh load of game. His arrival had been met with the usual nods and grunts of acknowledgment, but he had kept to himself since then.

Arthur’s presence seemed to amplify the quiet of the evening, his stance betraying an unease that matched the tension between you two. The firelight cast shifting shadows on his face, revealing the weariness and frustration etched into his features. 

“Evenin’,” he said, his voice rough but steady. “Uh, Dutch needs to talk to us both.”

Arthur shifted his weight, his gaze flickering to the side before meeting yours again. “He uh… said he wanted to talk to us about something,” he added, his tone attempting to be casual but betraying a hint of the underlying strain.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself against the rising unease about what Dutch might need to discuss. Abigail, noticing the awkwardness in Arthur’s demeanor, chose not to comment. Instead, she offered a sympathetic smile and stood up, her gesture a small comfort in the tense moment.

“I’ll catch up with you later,” she said softly, giving your shoulder a reassuring pat before heading off to give you and Arthur some space.

As you watched her walk away, you felt a brief flicker of gratitude for her understanding. You turned back to Arthur, who was still standing silently, his gaze shifting uncomfortably, before making your way towards Dutch’s quarters. 

Arthur’s footsteps were heavy behind you, his usual easy stride replaced by a more deliberate, uncertain pace. He cleared his throat, as if to break the silence, but no words came.

The crackling of the campfire and the soft murmur of distant conversations slowly faded, leaving only the sound of the wooden floorboards creaking under your steps as you both made your way inside the house and up the stairs.

You raised your hand and knocked on the door, the sound echoing louder than you expected. After a moment, Dutch’s voice called out from inside, inviting you both in. With a deep breath, you turned the handle and stepped into the room, ready to face whatever Dutch had to say.

Upon entering, you found Dutch and Hosea on the terrace, engaged in a low conversation. The evening light cast a warm glow over them, adding a sense of calm to the otherwise tense atmosphere. Dutch looked up as you approached, a smile etching onto his face.

"Ah, there you are, come on out, we’ve got some things to discuss."

Hosea gave you a nod of acknowledgment, his expression one of quiet understanding. 

Dutch gestured for you and Arthur to join them at a small table set up with a few maps. 

“I wanted to go over a few things with you both,” Dutch said, his tone casual but authoritative. “Hosea and I have been discussin’ a plan, might just be what we need to get away from here and finally throw the Pinkertons off our scent for good.”

Hosea turned to you, adding to Dutch’s explanation. “There’s another job, particularly concerning the stagecoach details you picked up from the party, actually. You know, the one rumored to be packed with jewels and cash. We’ve gotten word that it’ll be rollin’ through just north of Lemoyne, somewhere in New Hanover, tomorrow.”

You felt a jolt of realization as Hosea’s words hit you. The mention of the stagecoach, packed with jewels and cash, immediately brought back the details you’d nearly forgotten in the whirlwind of recent events. 

Your mind raced, piecing together the fragments of information you’d gathered during the party. This was the opportunity that could turn everything around, but it also meant diving right back into the chaos. You could sense the weight of the mission ahead, the stakes higher than ever.

You nodded slowly, absorbing the gravity of the situation. “Alright, so what’s the plan?” you asked, trying to focus on the task at hand despite the whirlwind of emotions.

Hosea glanced at Dutch, who took over the explanation. “We’ve got a basic outline. We reckon the stagecoach will be guarded, so you’ll need to stay sharp. Essentially, your task is to take out the guards and haul that coach right back here for safekeeping,” he said, pointing to a spot on the map.

Arthur leaned in, his expression serious. “Sounds like a plan. Who else is comin’ with us?”

Dutch and Hosea exchanged a glance, then Dutch answered, “It’ll just be the two of you. We’re countin’ on you to get it done.”

You blinked, eyes widening as you begin to feel a surge of frustration. “Wait, what? You can’t be serious,” you said, your voice tinged with disbelief.

Arthur's eyes widened slightly, his unease becoming more evident. “Just the two of us?” he repeated, trying to mask his discomfort with a gruff tone. He looked between Dutch and Hosea, clearly taken aback by the lack of backup.

Dutch looked momentarily taken aback by your reactions, his brow furrowing in confusion. “What’s the problem?” he asked, clearly oblivious to the underlying tension between you and Arthur. “I figured you two would be the best for this. It’s a straightforward job. I know you can handle it. You seemed to do fine back at the mayor's party.”

Arthur fidgeted with his hat, looking uncomfortable. He glanced at you, his face showing a mix of frustration and reluctance.

Hosea, sensing the growing discomfort and understanding the gravity of the situation, stepped in. “Since you were the one who uncovered the details about the stagecoach,” he said, addressing you directly, “We figured you’d lead this one. You know the specifics and what to expect. Arthur here is our best bet to go with you, handle any trouble, and watch your back while you’re at it.”

“And besides,” Hosea continued, his tone softening, “I know you’ve been itching to get out of camp and put your skills to use. This job could be a good chance for you to get out of the camp for a bit and do something you’ve been craving.”

Oh you had been hoping for a change of scenery, but not the kind that would throw you right back into close quarters with Arthur. 

This is just fantastic… Just what you needed, no? You couldn’t make this up if you tried. Here you were, thinking you’d get a breather from the endless tension, only to find yourself on a direct collision course with it. Really, the universe must have a twisted sense of humor.

Arthur’s dry laugh cut through your thoughts, and you glanced at him, noting the mix of annoyance and amusement on his face. Yeah, he’s probably thinking the same thing. Didn’t expect this to come with a side of enforced teamwork. We’ve barely been able to keep it together when we're in camp. Now we’re supposed to be a seamless duo out there?

Before you or Arthur could voice any further objections, Dutch cuts in with a firm tone. “It’s settled. You two will handle this job together, and that’s final. No more complaints or arguments.”

The finality in his voice left no room for negotiation. 

Arthur let out a deep frustrated sigh. “Well, ain’t this just perfect,” he grumbled, his voice dripping with sarcasm. You shot him a resigned glance, both of you silently acknowledging the irony of the situation.

“Now you two get some rest tonight, and we’ll go over the details tomorrow. I trust you two will make it work.”

With that, Dutch gave a nod, signaling the end of the discussion.

As you were about to leave, Hosea approached you and Arthur with a gentle demeanor, clearly aware of the tension between you two. 

“I know it’s not ideal, especially with how things have been between you two,” he said quietly, his voice filled with understanding. “But you’re both capable. I have faith that you’ll handle this just fine.”

Arthur shot Hosea a skeptical glance but nodded in acknowledgment, his gruff exterior softening slightly. “We’ll do what we can,” he muttered, though his tone suggested he wasn’t entirely convinced.

You managed a tight smile, appreciating Hosea’s attempt to offer reassurance despite the circumstances. “Yeah, I suppose we’ll give it our best shot.”

Hosea nodded approvingly and patted Arthur on the back. “That’s the spirit. Now, try to get some rest. Tomorrow’s going to be a long day.”

With that, Hosea gave you both a warm, encouraging smile before stepping back, leaving you and Arthur to face the uncomfortable reality of the task ahead.

The promise of the job loomed large, and the need to navigate both the heist and your fraught relationship now seemed inescapable.

The silence stretched, awkward and thick as the both of you grappled with the weight of the situation in your own way, the unspoken tension hanging between you like a heavy fog. You could almost feel the gears in Arthur’s mind turning, his usual confidence replaced by a reluctant resignation.

Arthur shifted his weight, glancing sideways at you before speaking. His voice was low, tinged with hesitation.

Arthur shifted his weight, glancing sideways at you before speaking. “Look, I know this isn’t exactly ideal. We’ve had our share of run-ins, and I’m not expecting us to suddenly be friends or anything. But, for what it’s worth, I’ll do my part to make sure this job goes smoothly.”

You studied Arthur for a moment, taking in the sincerity behind his words. Despite the tension, there was something begrudgingly reassuring in his willingness to make the best of the situation. You sighed, trying to keep your tone neutral but not entirely devoid of acknowledgment.

“Yeah, well, I’m not expecting us to be the best of friends either,” you replied, forcing a small, wry smile. “But I appreciate the effort. We’ll both just have to keep our heads in the game and get this done. For now, let’s try to focus on the job and not let our… differences get in the way.”

Arthur gave a short nod, the lines of tension on his face momentarily easing. “Fair enough.”

There was an awkward pause, the silence stretching out between you. Arthur finally cleared his throat, his eyes flickering towards you. “Look, about what happened—”

You cut him off, your voice sharp. “We don’t need to rehash it. Let’s just focus on this job so we can continue with our ways.”

The last thing you wanted was to dredge up the emotions and pain that had been bubbling beneath the surface. Revisiting the topic felt like opening an old wound that had yet to heal, and you weren’t ready to face that vulnerability all over again. 

Arthur’s expression shifted, a mix of resignation and understanding passing over his face. “Alright,” he said, his tone flat. “We’ll do that.”

With that, you give him a nod before turning heel and walking away downstairs, the sound of your footsteps echoing in the quiet. 

Arthur watched you go before heading to his room, the weight of the conversation and unresolved issues hanging heavy on his mind.

As you settled into your sleeping roll, the familiar comfort of the bedding did little to ease the turmoil inside you. The day's events, combined with the strained interaction with Arthur, made it difficult to quiet your racing thoughts. 

Despite the brief truce, the underlying tension between you and Arthur was far from resolved.

The next morning dawned crisp and clear, the sunlight filtering through the cracked windows. The sky outside was painted in soft hues of pink and orange, casting a warm glow over the sprawling estate of Shady Belle. 

You woke with a start, the unease of the previous night still heavy in your mind. The camp was already bustling with activity as the early risers went about their morning routines, preparing for the day ahead.

You and Arthur had gotten up early, each in your own way preparing for the job that lay ahead. The conversation this morning with Dutch and Hosea had been brief, focusing mainly on the specifics of the job and the logistics of the route. The details were clear, and the plan was set.

With that in mind, you were left to prepare for the task ahead. Preparing your saddle bag, you set about stashing away the essentials: ammunition, a spare set of clothes, and other provisions.

You grabbed your rifle, carefully checking it for any issues before securing it onto your horse, running a final check on your gear and making sure everything was in order.

The horse you were saddling stood patiently, its calm demeanor a stark contrast to the storm brewing in your mind. As you adjusted the saddle and tightened the straps, you tried to focus on the task at hand, pushing aside thoughts of the upcoming journey and the inevitable interactions with Arthur.

Arthur was nearby, working on his own preparations. Though there was no direct conversation between you, the occasional glance or nod indicated a mutual understanding of the importance of the task at hand.

You watched him for a moment, feeling the unspoken words and unresolved feelings between you. The air was thick with the weight of the unaddressed issues, but you both knew that there was no room for sentiment right now.

You let out a sigh before mounting your horse. The two of you had a job to do, and despite the personal issues that loomed, you had to find a way to make it work. This job had to go smoothly, and you needed to focus on that, no matter how difficult this job was already proving to be.

Arthur gave a brief nod, acknowledging your resolve, and mounted his own horse. With a final deep breath, you spurred your horse into motion. 

Arthur fell into line beside you, and together, you set out on the journey ahead.

The road stretched out before you, winding through the dense forests and swamps. The sun was high in the sky, casting a warm light over the landscape. 

The journey had been relatively uneventful so far, a few scattered encounters with travelers and the occasional wildlife breaking the monotony.

You and Arthur rode side by side, the silence between you still thick and uncomfortable. You focused on the landscape around you, the dense trees and winding paths offering a certain level of tranquility.

Arthur, for his part, appeared deep in thought. He occasionally glanced over at you, but the eye contact was fleeting.

His usual confident demeanor was replaced with a quiet determination, and the silence spoke volumes of the discomfort that lingered.

You had both briefly reviewed the details of the job, and the execution was expected to be straightforward. The plan was simple enough: intercept the stagecoach, secure the loot, and make a swift escape with the coach to a hiding place somewhere near camp. 

After a beat, Arthur finally broke the silence. 

“You ready for this?” 

You nodded, keeping your eyes on the road ahead.

“Yeah, just like any other job, right?” you replied, keeping your tone steady, though the edge in your voice was unmistakable.

Arthur sighed, clearly sensing the strain in your words. “Look, I know things ain’t been... easy between us. But we gotta get through this.”

You glanced over at him, your expression hardening. 

“I know that, Arthur. I’m not gonna let whatever’s between us mess up the job. I’ve got a job to do, and so do you. I intend to see it through without letting personal grudges get in the way.”

Arthur nodded slowly, his eyes filled with a mixture of understanding and resignation. “Yeah, I know you will. Just... stay close, alright? We need to be on the same page.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. “Understood. Let’s just get this done.” 

The tension lingered, but for now, it was buried under the urgency of the job.

The terrain shifted subtly, the once marshy ground giving way to the rich, green embrace of dense forests, rolling hills, and steep mountains. 

The road followed a river that wound alongside you, its surface catching the overcast sky’s light in a subdued, shimmering dance. The rhythmic flow of the water provided a gentle counterpoint to the tension between you and Arthur, a quiet reminder of the natural beauty surrounding your uneasy journey.

Arthur’s gaze remained fixed on the horizon, his focus unyielding. He kept his gaze sharp, scanning the surroundings for any signs of trouble. Despite the coldness between you, you couldn’t help but notice the way he took his job seriously, his focus unwavering. 

His attention to detail was evident as he navigated the terrain, maneuvering his horse with practiced ease. Each time he glanced over at you, his eyes were a mix of concentration and something softer.

Eventually, you reached a vantage point overlooking the road where the stagecoach was expected to pass. You dismount your horse, feeling the weight of the upcoming task settle heavily on your shoulders. Arthur followed suit, his expression serious as he joined you.

"So, how do you wanna do this? You take the front, and I cover the back?" Arthur's tone was practical, but there was a hint of something less guarded in his voice.

A smile unexpectedly crept up on your lips, a rare break from the seriousness that had defined your recent interactions, as you thought of how you approached these jobs with a different flair when you were with the girls.

Arthur glanced over, his expression guarded but curious. You continued, “Or I could play the helpless lady who needs help while you sneak up on ‘em?”

His eyes narrowed slightly, and a small, begrudging smile tugged at his lips. “Oh, so you’re thinkin’ of dustin’ off the old act, huh? Think you still got it?”

You raised an eyebrow, the tension easing just a bit as a genuine smile tugged at your lips.  “Oh, I’ve still got a few tricks up my sleeve. But you better keep up if you’re gonna be my backup.”

Arthur nodded, his smile widening slightly. “You got it.”

You checked your gear, slinging your rifle securely behind you. Arthur did the same, both of you falling into the familiar routine of preparation.

As you moved into position, the earlier unease shifted into focused, purposeful energy. 

The playful banter had served its purpose, bringing a brief moment of levity to the serious task ahead. Now, with the weight of the mission on your shoulders, you prepared for the role you’d play and the action to come.

“You think this’ll work?” you ask, your voice tinged with both curiosity and apprehension.

Arthur glances up at you as you both make your way slightly further down the hill. 

“It’s our best shot. We’ll need to time it right. ‘Sides, we’ve got the element of surprise on our side.”

You nod as you stop just before the road, positioning yourselves behind the trees and thick bushes, your eyes scanning the road for any sign of the stagecoach.

The sun was at an angle indicating that sunset was within an hour or two, casting long shadows that merged with the undergrowth, providing natural cover. The sound of the flowing river in the distance had faded into the background as you both waited in tense silence. 

Then, amidst the quiet, you both heard it—a distant rumble growing louder. The roll of the coach’s wheels crunching over the road, steadily approaching. 

You exchanged a sharp glance with Arthur, the anticipation spiking as you prepared for the imminent arrival of your target.

Peeking over the edge of your hiding spot, you counted around five guards stationed around the stagecoach, each one mounted on horseback with rifles gripped tightly in their hands. They occasionally glanced at each other, their movements synchronized but relaxed, their attention more on the road ahead than on the dense cover flanking either side—rookie mistake.

The impending arrival of your target presented a perfect opportunity. Their lack of vigilance provided a window to implement your plan.

Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you signal to Arthur with a subtle nod, your heart racing as the time to act approaches.

You step out from behind the tree and move to a position where the road curves, creating the illusion of a stranded traveler in need of assistance. 

As you raise a hand to signal distress, you adjust your expression to one of genuine concern before you stumble forward, making sure to catch sight of the approaching vehicle, your movements exaggerated for effect. 

The guards notice your presence immediately, their posture becoming tense as they exchange wary glances. The coach begins to slow, and one of the guards shouts over.

“Hold up! What’s the matter?” His voice carries a mix of suspicion and urgency as he strains to see what’s going on.

That’s your cue. You force a shaky voice as you call out, “Help! My horse threw a shoe, and I’m stranded here! Please, I need assistance!”

You stagger slightly, clutching your arm as if in pain, and glance anxiously towards the coach. The guards’ expressions shift from suspicion to concern as they assess the situation. 

They exchange a few quick words, and one of them starts to dismount, moving towards you with a wary but reluctant gait.

Concealed by the trees, Arthur remains hidden, his sharp eyes locked on the scene. He watches as the guard approaches, waiting for the precise moment to make his move. Your heart races as you maintain your act, trying to keep your expression a mix of fear and gratitude.

As the guard comes closer, his eyes seem to fixate on something behind your back and his expression shifts to alarm, his hand moving instinctively towards his weapon.

“Hold on a minute,” he calls out, voice now laced with suspicion. The tone of his voice immediately alerts the other guards, who begin to look more closely at the situation. “What’s that on your back?”

Arthur’s eyes narrow as he notices the shift in the guards' demeanor. His movements are fluid and calculated as he positions himself strategically, drawing his rifle with practiced precision. He takes a deep breath and steadies his aim, preparing to act at a moment’s notice.

You freeze, trying to keep your expression composed despite the sudden shift. Your heart skips a beat, and you shoot a quick glance toward Arthur, who’s watching intently from his hidden spot.

The guard takes another cautious step closer, his gaze fixed on your rifle. “Seems a bit odd for someone stranded to be carrying a rifle, don’t ya think?”

As steady as you can manage, you respond, “I— I just needed it for protection. I didn’t expect trouble.” 

You can feel the weight of his scrutiny, and you silently pray that your composed demeanor is enough to keep suspicion at bay.

As the guard’s suspicion grows, he signals to the other guards, who start to move in closer, their hands gripping their weapons with increased wariness. 

The tension thickens, palpable in the tightening of their grips and the narrowing of their eyes. You can almost see the wheels turning in their heads, questioning the authenticity of your situation.

Arthur’s eyes narrow, realizing that the plan might be in jeopardy. His fingers tighten around the handle of his own rifle, ready to act. 

The guards' wary movements signal that they're about to take a closer look at you, their caution evident in their deliberate steps. You catch Arthur's eye, and he gives a barely perceptible nod—a clear signal that the time to act is now, before the guards get any closer or the situation escalates further.

With a deep breath, you prepare yourself, knowing that the success of the job now hinges on a delicate balance between deception and action.

As the guard steps closer, his suspicion hardening into action, the tension snaps like a taut wire. The moment he raises his hand to signal the other guards to move in, the situation escalates rapidly.

The air fills with the sudden sharp crack of gunfire as Arthur’s rifle erupts from the trees. His shots ring true, striking one of the guards and sending him crashing to the ground. The remaining men, caught off guard, scramble for cover as the shootout begins in earnest.

You draw your own rifle, aiming at the nearest one as you move quickly to the side, seeking cover behind a large rock. 

Your shots are quick and precise, the loud reports of your gun blending into the chaotic symphony of the firefight. The guards on horseback begin to return fire, their rifles barking in rapid succession.

Amid the chaos, you catch a glimpse of Arthur, moving with practiced precision. He’s taking them down with controlled bursts of fire, his movements fluid and efficient. He’s clearly in his element, but even so, his eyes occasionally flicker toward you, ensuring you’re holding your own.

The stagecoach driver, realizing the situation has gone terribly wrong, frantically tries to maneuver the vehicle away from the danger. His hands tremble as he struggles to keep the frantic horses under control.

One of the guards, attempting to flank you, takes a well-aimed shot, forcing you to duck behind your cover. You peer out, seeing Arthur’s form in the distance as he intercepts the guard, eliminating the threat with a single, decisive shot.

As the last of the guards fall, the chaos begins to wane. The sound of gunfire now replaced by the restless snorting of the horses. 

You scan the area, assessing the situation, and your heart starts to slow as you see the immediate threat has been dealt with.

Arthur, breathing heavily from the exertion, emerges from his cover, his eyes scanning the scene for any remaining danger. He gives you a quick nod of acknowledgment before turning to secure the stagecoach. 

You emerge from your cover and make a beeline for the stagecoach, reaching the vehicle just as Arthur approaches it, his face a mask of focused intensity. 

The driver has managed to bring the horses to a halt. Without a moment’s hesitation, Arthur nudges the man with a sharp flick of his rifle. Clearly intimidated by Arthur’s commanding presence, he scrambles off the seat and retreats into the road with a frantic pace.

With the situation now under control, you watch as Arthur focuses on calming the restless horses. He approaches them carefully, his voice a soothing murmur that cuts through the chaos. The horses’ breathing begins to slow, their agitation easing under his calm presence.

You take a moment to catch your breath and collect yourself, observing Arthur’s handling of the situation. His actions are steady and confident, and you can see the familiar ease with which he interacts with the animals. It’s a side of him that, despite everything, has managed to impress you.

Catching the subtle shift in your expression, he glances over at you. His gaze lingering for a moment. For a brief instant, his own hardened expression softens, the corner of his mouth twitching upward in a small, almost self-satisfied smile. 

You blink, momentarily flustered. You hadn’t realized how much you were letting your guard down, caught off-guard by the warmth in his eyes and the easy way he spoke. 

The sight is fleeting but significant, a silent acknowledgment of the shared success and a momentary easing of the tension that had previously clouded your interactions.

You attempt to steady your voice, but it comes out softer than intended. “Come on, let’s check if this thing has exactly what they said.”

Arthur gives a nod, his focus shifting to the task at hand as you both move to inspect the stagecoach. 

As you open the coach's doors, the sight inside is nothing short of astonishing.

Chests, small pouches, lockboxes, and crates are crammed into the coach, each one overflowing with a dazzling array of jewels and cash. Arthur’s eyes widen as he takes in the sheer volume of riches. 

Seeing the score, the weight of the day's hostility seems to have dissolved, replaced by a palpable sense of accomplishment and satisfaction.

Arthur whistles, clearly impressed. “Damn, we hit the mother lode, this is more than I ever expected.”

You nod, grabbing a small bag to carefully assess the loot. This one was filled with sparkling rings and ornate necklaces. The sight is overwhelming, and the weight of the haul is tangible even before you touch it.

Beside you, Arthur takes to opening a lockbox with his hunting knife. The contents inside reveal neatly stacked bundles of cash. 

“This is a hell of a find,” he says with a hint of admiration in his voice. “Dutch is gonna be thrilled.”

“This is more than enough for the gang,” you comment, carefully handling each piece. “Who in their right mind would only send five guards to accompany this?”

“Seems like they were a bit too confident in their security. Their loss is our gain, though.”

“Let’s get this sorted and packed up. We need to move quick before anyone starts sniffing around.”

You whistle for your horse and begin stashing a few bundles of cash and select pieces of jewelry into the saddlebag. Arthur mirrors your actions, moving with deliberate speed as he fills his satchel with a mix of valuable items from the coach.

You and Arthur quickly secure the remaining loot and prepare the stagecoach for its journey before he climbs up to the driver’s seat, taking the reins with a firm grip.

“Let’s get this thing moving,” he says, his voice low but determined.

You nod, taking your place beside him whistling to your horses once more, signaling them to follow. The stagecoach lurches forward as Arthur cracks the reins, guiding the horses into a steady trot. 

With the weight of the haul securely packed and the adrenaline of the heist gradually fading, a sense of accomplishment settles in. The tense moments of the plan's execution now give way to the satisfaction of a job well done.

Arthur glances over at you, a trace of a smile lingering on his lips. “Good work back there. Reckon we make a pretty good team, don’t we?”

You catch his gaze and, despite yourself, feel a flicker of warmth. “Yeah, just don’t get used to it.”

Arthur chuckles softly. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Half an hour in, you continue your journey to the agreed location with the fruits of your labor securely in tow.

The adrenaline from the earlier confrontation has faded, replaced by a sense of accomplishment and relief. The surroundings have returned to their tranquil state, the earlier chaos now a distant memory as you and Arthur ride side by side, the silence between you now more comfortable and less charged than before.

With the sun setting, you keep a vigilant eye on the surroundings, focusing on the road and surrounding area ahead for any signs of trouble. 

Suddenly, the faint sound of galloping hooves slices through the calm, growing abruptly louder. The rhythmic pounding signifies an approaching group, and the urgency in their pace suggests they might be heading straight for you.

You glance over at Arthur, noticing his instant shift in posture, his hands tightening slightly on the reigns. 

Following the sound, you look behind and see a horde of riders emerging from the tree line, their horses kicking up clouds of dust as they charge forward. The group is sizable, and their intent is clear—they’re coming fast and with purpose.

Arthur’s jaw clenches as he takes in the approaching threat. He adjusts his grip on the reins, his frustration evident but his focus unwavering. “Damn it,” he growls. “We can’t outrun ‘em with this load.”

With resolve, you kneel a leg on the seat, bracing yourself against the coach roof for stability. Your expression is determined as you aim your rifle at the approaching riders. 

“You just keep those horses running. I’ll handle the welcoming committee,” you call out to Arthur, your voice steady. Arthur glances over, a flicker of amusement in his eyes despite the urgency, before his gaze sharpens back on the road. 

The coach surges ahead, the horses racing faster as Arthur skillfully maneuvers them away from the oncoming threat. The clash of gunfire and the thunderous pounding of hooves create a frenzied soundtrack to the chaos unfolding.

The vehicle sways with the sudden bursts and you brace yourself, focusing on keeping your aim steady amidst the chaotic barrage.

Bullets ricochet off the ground near the coach, their danger unmistakable. You grit your teeth, cursing under your breath as you see both your and Arthur’s horses veering sharply to another direction to evade the attackers, separating them from you.

From beside you, Arthur's curse breaks through the chaos. You glance over to see the road ahead sharply climbing, winding up the mountain with a steep incline.

The horses strain against the uneven terrain, their hooves scrambling for traction as the coach teeters perilously, the situation now becoming more complicated, with the treacherous path adding another layer of danger to the already tense escape.

You turn to see Arthur’s face set in grim determination, his focus entirely on the road. His efforts to control the coach are apparent as he wrestles for control, fighting against the treacherous surface.

“Dammit!” Arthur growls, his knuckles white as he grips the reins tightly. “This isn’t exactly what I had in mind for a getaway route!”

The incline grows steeper, and the coach struggles to gain traction.

You return your gaze to the unmistakable sound of more guards closing in, aiming steadily at those who are getting too close for comfort.

Their pursuit is relentless, and the weight of the situation becomes increasingly apparent. Each shot you fire feels like a desperate attempt to stave off the growing threat, as the gap between you and the pursuing riders narrows with every passing moment.

“They’re gaining on us!” you shout over the cacophony of gunfire and the rumbling coach. “There’s too many of them. We have to leave the coach!”

The sound of men shouting and the sharp crack of gunfire splintering the wood of the coach fills the air, heightening the chaos. The horses, already on edge, begin to panic, their frantic movements causing the coach to lurch.

The coach tilts precariously toward the edge of the mountain, and for a moment, you feel yourself tipping dangerously close to the edge of your seat. Rocks tumble down the steep incline as the coach seems on the verge of tipping over completely.

In a split second, Arthur’s arm shoots out, grabbing you firmly by the waist and pulling you back into place while still maintaining control of the reins. The coach rights itself with a jolt, the wheels crunching heavily on the loose gravel as it stabilizes. The sudden movement pulls you both back from the brink, but the threat of the approaching guards remains ever-present.

“You alright?” he calls out, his voice edged with worry amidst the chaos, his hand still wrapped around your waist as you cling to him for stability.

You nod quickly, forcing a shaky nod. “I’m good… Just keep this thing steady.”

Arthur’s hand slips away as he refocuses on guiding the coach.

You lean back, gripping onto the seat with both hands to brace yourself against the relentless jostling. 

You can feel the coach shudder under the strain of the terrain and the impact of the guards’ gunfire. The unstable footing and the increasing danger make it clear that staying in the coach is no longer an option.

Realizing there's no way back, you scan the surroundings desperately for an escape route. Ahead, on a flatter section of the mountain, your eyes land on a bridge spanning a rushing river below. It’s a precarious-looking structure, but it might be your only chance.

“Arthur! That bridge up ahead!”

Arthur’s eyes dart to the bridge, and he curses under his breath. 

"That thing looks like it's barely hangin' on," he mutters, a worried frown on his face. 

The two of you exchange a worried glance, the urgency of the situation clear. With no other options and the guards closing in, the risk of crossing the unstable bridge might be your only chance at escape.

Arthur takes a deep breath, his expression set with determination. 

He grips the reins tighter and steers the coach toward the bridge, maneuvering through the challenging terrain. 

The stagecoach lurches and tilts dangerously as it approaches the bridge, the horses straining against their ropes. Every bump and sway sends a jolt through the coach, and the bridge creaks ominously under the pressure of the approaching load.

The guards’ shouts grow louder, their pursuit relentless, adding to the mounting pressure.

Arthur's knuckles whiten as he clenches the reins, his eyes locked on the rickety structure ahead. “Hang on!” 

The wheels hit the first few planks with a jarring thud, the structure shuddering violently while you brace yourself against the seat, gripping it tightly. The bridge sways and creaks under the strain, the narrow path making it clear that any wrong move could spell disaster.

The wooden planks of the bridge groan in protest, threatening to buckle under the weight. You can see the river below churning violently, a reminder of the precarious situation. 

As you and Arthur drive the stagecoach across the rickety bridge, the relentless pursuit of the guards continues. Gunfire cracks through the air, and the panicked horses struggle to keep their footing on the unstable wooden planks.

“Arthur, watch out!” you shout, gripping the edge of the coach seat tightly.

Arthur's eyes dart to the side, spotting the weak planks giving way under the weight and stress of the coach. The bridge shudders violently, and a loud cracking sound echoes through.

Without warning, the bridge gives way entirely. The horses scream in terror as the entire stagecoach plunges into the rushing river below. 

The world blurs around you as you're thrown from the driver’s seat, hitting the icy river with a jarring impact.

Cold water engulfs you instantly, and the current's force pulls you under, dragging you downstream. As you struggle to stay afloat, you catch fleeting glimpses of the stagecoach being smashed to pieces against the rocks and debris.

The river’s powerful current quickly separates you and Arthur, each of you fighting to keep afloat. Your heart races, and every instinct urges you to fight the current. The roar of the river overwhelms your senses, making it difficult to think clearly. You reach out, trying to find something solid to grab onto, while the chaos of the river makes every movement a battle.

"Hold on!" Arthur's voice, hoarse with effort, barely reaches you over the roar of the river, eyes widening in alarm as he sees you being dragged away by the current.

"Arthur!" you scream back, your voice filled with panic as the water pulls you under again. 

You fight to surface, gasping for air, the relentless force of the river carrying you further away. The rush of water roars in your ears, drowning out any other sound, and your vision blurs with each desperate attempt to find your footing.

In the chaos, the water pulls you under once more. As you struggle against the current, a sharp pain explodes in your head. The impact sends you spinning, and the world around you blurs into a dizzying haze. Each breath is a struggle, the cold water overwhelming your senses as you fight to stay conscious.

The agony in your head intensifies, and the cold, relentless river drags you further from the surface. The muffled, distant sound of Arthur’s voice calling your name is the last thing you hear before darkness engulfs you.

A/N: Alright so not much going on between the two this chapter, hopefully everything is resolved in the next. Stay tuned for the next one which is the final part!

[alessiathepirate]

Sherlock (BBC)

CROWN JEWELS: Jim Moriarty x fem!reader

Summary: Be careful what you say - especially around a man like Jim Moriarty.

Notes: English isn't my first language. I apologize for any mistake I may have made while I wrote this short story.

I have been working on this since summer and now that it's finally done I think I'm ready to share it with you guys. I really enjoyed writing it and I hope you'll enjoy reading it.

Also a silent thank you for my friend who told me to keep going even after writer's block hit me hard. <3

Warnings: swearing

•••

Jim Moriarty likes to leave a lasting impression.

That was her first thought about him ever since she first met him - ever since she first heard him talk and saw his body language. The man talks with his whole body - especially when he's in an angry or mischievious mood -, expresses himself with his arms' and shoulders' movements and with his many different gestures. The words he uses and the way he builds up sentence after sentence makes one to stop and listen. And he can make all of that look elegant and strangely enough, gentleman-like.

No matter what he does or talks about, how many times you have already met him, he's someone who you can never get fully used to and that alone always burries that lasting impression. It causes many different feelings and thoughts about the man, making the brain work and think about him and his every little gesture and word long after he's left.

But how long can that impression last?

Long enough for her to remember their first meeting weeks after it had occurred. Long enough for her to build up a whole complicated characterization and profile of him. Long enough for her to be able to quote his words exactly as he had said them.

As she sat in her own armchair in 221B Baker Street, watching the news on the telly about Jim Moriarty himself; the remains of that well known charm of his being slowly built up the memories of their first meeting.

She was in the exact same position, sitting in her own armchair - what Sherlock and John thought she finally deserved, so she won't have to sit on the chouch or on the 'chair of shame' (as she liked to call that) when they have a case to solve -; but instead of watching the telly, she was reading, falling head first into the world of the book, enjoying the peace and quiet which occurred pretty rarely in 221B. But despite the fact that she was way too interested in whatever she was reading, she still noticed the noise of a door opening downstairs, followed by the noise of someone coming up the stairs.

She looked up from the book, picking up her bookmark as she listened to the quiet tapping as someone's shoes met with the steps. She has spent enough time in 221B to be able to differ everyone's steps: Sherlock's, John's, Mrs. Hudson's, even Lestrade's and potential clients' - but these steps didn't sound like any of those.

Sherlock was always quick as he came up, too excited about the cases he had to solve and way too happy to be free from boredom. John was either slow when he came up, looking through the letters they've got or quick and angry, done with Sherlock's new case or with the certain experiments he was doing in the flat. Mrs. Hudson's were always high pitched, Lestrade's quick and heavy as he ran upstairs and the clients' were slow, reluctant and quiet.

These steps were slow, that was true, but there was something unusual about them, about the sound when they met with the wooden staircase. These were slow and quiet, but confident and elegant - these were something new and not usual and boring.

She put her book down and looked at the door what was wide open - because no matter how many times either she or John closed it, Sherlock always left it open. They gave up pretty soon, accepting the fact that their only protection against a robbery is Mrs. Hudson and the door downstairs.

The stranger was soon standing in the doorway, looking around the flat so calmly it looked like he owned the place and he most definitely didn't even think about knocking.

He didn't look like a client. He was way too calm and confident, way too elegant to be one. No, he was something new and unique, someone who you immediately notice even in a room full of people because of the lingering elegance and confidence - because even the air changes when he steps in the room.

After looking around the flat his gaze stopped and he looked directly at her for the very first time. She held his gaze, not giving in on the sudden game, but her stomach tightened in fear, a fear she only felt when she was in a room with Sherlock Holmes, knowing he'll deduce her and know about the things she doesn't want him to know.

"Hi..." The greeting was so short and simple for a person like him, that she tilted her head a little in confusion. His voice was also slightly high pitched when he pronounced the 'I', but she quickly realized it was intentional.

"Sherlock isn't home... if he is who you are looking for." she said to him, thinking there was no way this man didn't come here to see Sherlock Holmes.

"I know. That's why I'm here."

For a moment she thought about telling him that John isn't home either, but then decided against it. He clearly isn't here to talk to John Watson. He's here to talk to her...

"I see." she looked away for a moment to think about what to do with him, but no idea came to mind. "Well then please have a seat. Although I wasn't expecting guests."

He accepted the invitation, taking a seat in Sherlock's armchair, while she tried to figure out who he was and what he wanted. Meanwhile the stranger leaned back and made himself comfortable, enjoying the situation and the fact that he is sitting in Sherlock's armchair.

He knows whose armchair he's sitting in - the realization hit her, only making the 'who is he' more interesting.

"Yes, you were." he spoke up so suddenly she had to shake her head a little.

"Excuse me?"

"You were expecting one guest or you were counting on one specific guest at least."

She looked at him again, pressuring her mind to think. He is someone important and he knows that as well. That was obvious. But important for who? Not for John. John wouldn't tolerate him at all - but Sherlock would. Sherlock would even appreciate all this act.

She tilted her head a little in realization.

"Moriarty? Good to know that now that name has a face." she noticed how his expression didn't change, even if he smiled at her realization - he was expecting it, for her to realize who he is. "May I know why you wanted to see me?"

"Just wanted to meet the ordinary people Sherlock keeps around."

"Ordinary?" she laughed. "You think ordinary people could live with Sherlock Holmes?"

"That doesn't make you less boring."

"Nor does it make you less annoying." she quickly answered, leaving the annoyance out of her voice. "Playing around with Sherlock, coming here uninvited. Next time send a message at least so I can prepare some tea."

His eyes shined up for a second as if for a short amount of time he was looking at something more interesting.

"Doesn't he annoy you? Keeping you from living on your boring, ordinary little life."

"Not really. I'm never bored at least. He keeps the boredom away."

"So loyal. Ordinary people can be so amusing, I should get myself one."

She just smiled at that.

"You really like to get under people's skin, don't you?"

"Of course I do, I mean that's the funniest part, isn't it?"

That's when she first noticed how he uses his body language when he's having fun - how his arms and shoulders are moving with him.

"I guess you're right. That can be funny, you should try it out more with Sherlock. It's enough if you play one note wrong on the violin."

But that wasn't his only memorable visit. No, all of his visits were more than memorable if she wanted to be honest. She could tell all of them apart, she could tell in which month they had accured...

He visited her many times, but he always sent her a message beforehand. A short one. Something like: 'I'm a street away dear.' or 'I hope the tea is ready.' But later on they became something more: 'I'd like to see you today.', 'I have a gift for you.' or 'You'll be out tonight.' She didn't dare to ask how he knows her number, how he knows so much about her - where she'll be, what she likes. It would've been unnecessary words and she wouldn't have gotten an answer.

So she kept her questions to herself - and she also kept their meetings for themselves. Even if Sherlock noticed the change in her behaviour and happily pointed it out, causing John to ask who she's meeting up with. Even if Mycroft pointed out that she had been out at night. Even if Mrs. Hudson nearly jumped out of her skin in happiness when both brothers accused her of dating someone.

But the most interesting one--

... the most interesting conversion they've ever had was special. Oh so very special.

He came without telling her about it beforehand, just like the first time they'd met. She was sitting in her armchair with her laptop in her lap, going through a victim's personal data to make a profile while Sherlock was too busy working on a much more interesting case. Apparently a triple suicide in one place isn't that interesting, at all.

She didn't hear him come in, but she noticed him standing in the doorway - because the door was once again, wide open. He just stood there in his Westwood suit, gloating in the fact that he had the element of surprise.

She looked up at him as she raised an eyebrow.

"You didn't call this time."

"I had business around here. I just decided to come in."

"Liar." she accused as she put the laptop aside and offered him Sherlock's armchair. "You knew they went out on a case, otherwise you wouldn't have come here. You enjoy working behind his back too much."

He took the offered seat and after he leaned back, he started to talk:

"Remember what I told you when we first met? About the loyal ordinary people?"

"Of course I do." she answered, half-offended that he thought so little of her. "You wanted to get yourself one."

"Yes, well you see dear, I changed my mind." once again, his body moved with his mood. "Maybe I shouldn't get myself an ordinary one, I mean they would bore me so easily. I think I'd be perfectly fine with a not so ordinary one."

She looked at him, trying to read him like she did so many times before that, but this time other than that smirk, she couldn't find out anything else. So she turned to examine his words, that's what was also interesting about Jim Moriarty, what he said and how he said it.

A not so ordinary one. How on Earth will he get one?

And then she realized that for Jim Moriarty, the hierarchy of the world is about ordinary and extraordinary people - and in that momemt he added the not so ordinary ones to the mix too. Even if he didn't like Sherlock, he accepted that he was like him - too clever, extraordinary. John was only, simply ordinary. Nothing more, maybe less. But he talked to her a lot. A whole lot without getting bored, without thinking about speaking to Sherlock directly so he could annoy him instead of her. He didn't gloat that he knew her and talked to her daily. For him she was middle class, she was that not so ordinary person.

She chuckled and stood up, deciding that she couldn't sit that through without moving.

"Oh no, you can't possibly think that I'd leave Sherlock for you." she shook her head in disbelief. "I mean I wouldn't be loyal, would I? What happened with loyality?"

"Ordinary people are loyal and loyality is boring." he leaned forward to pour some tea for himself, not really caring that Mrs. Hudson prepared that for John and Sherlock, and most definitely not him.

"Well then I must be really boring, because I won't just leave Baker Street."

"You don't have to leave to show you aren't loyal, darling, we've been talking for months without you telling about it to them." he leaned back again and took a sip from the tea.

"Yeah, well it's still a no thank you very much." she said as her chest rose and fell rapidly, her brain working as she thought about what he just said.

"No?"

"No. I mean why would I?" the question was left unanswered. "I'd only consider it if I'd-- own the fucking Crown Jewels."

She tried to think about something unrealistic to say, to show that her decision is unbreakable. But looking at him, she clearly chose the wrong thing.

Moriarty looked pleased instead of angry - and that grounded her into reality. She said something wrong. She could basically hear the cogs turn in his head.

"Well, in that case," he said as he got ready to leave. "I'll see you around, darling."

She was left there angry and sad, but the thing she didn't think about?

That a few days later she'd get a letter.

•••

"Goddamn it Sherlock, I told you to put the microscope away! I almost knocked it down and that's the only one we own!" she shouted as she put the said thing aside, saving it from a disaster.

"He's not home!" came the answer from John, who was sitting in his armchair watching the telly - or rather trying to find a channel worth watching.

"He's not?" she asked in disbelief. "And he went without either of us?"

"You know him. Once he wants to go somewhere he goes there with or without us."

She opened one of the cupboards to find two clean cups - the kind which hadn't met with blood, eyeballs or some kind of acid beforehand - and once she found some, she began to make some tea.

"Is the forest fruit one okay? We ran out of black tea."

"Yes, thank you."

"You owe me." she threatened jokingly. "Anything worth watching? We could watch some crime show now that Sherlock isn't here to spoil it." she offered.

"Good idea." came John's answer - she enjoyed watching shows and movies with him since he was the only normal person in the flat - him and maybe Mrs. Hudson, but even Mrs. Hudson's life was extraordinary. "One'll begin after the news."

"Fantastic." she said as she finished preparing the tea and walked into the living room with a silver tray.

And then John turned the news on - and she almost dropped the tray.

There he was. On the screen, in handcuffs as the officers took him away and he was smiling - more like grinning. It only took her a second to realize where he was - the Tower of London, where the damn Crown Jewels were kept.

God damn him. Both of them. Both Moriarty and Sherlock -- even John and Mycroft. All of them had to mess up her life and make it more exciting and interesting instead of boring. God damn her that she liked it.

The Crown Jewels. What did she say to him the last time they met? 'I'd only consider it if I'd own the fucking Crown Jewels.'

John looked surprised too. Not as much as she was, he didn't know she had been talking with the enemy. He didn't notice her shock thankfully and even if he did he must've thought it was a normal reaction.

"Moriarty-- that's Moriarty." he explained.

"I know." she said without thinking.

Before John could ask her how, she heard Mrs. Hudson call out her name from downstairs. She put the tray down quicker than usual, some tea was even spilt, and she was out of the flat in a heartbeat. She ran down the stairs, her heart beating fast.

"What is it, Mrs. Hudson? Did something happen?" she asked.

"Oh, not at all dear, it's just my hips. John was kind enough to give me some painkillers, but I couldn't really walk up the stairs right now." the woman explained with the usual enthusiasm. "But a letter arrived for you a few seconds ago. The postman must've forgotten about it in the morning."

And there it was, in Mrs. Hudson's hand. An envelope, a beige coloured one - the very elegant kind.

She took it from her quickly and just by the envelope itself she knew who sent it. The penmanship was perfect. Her name was written on it in black ink, the letters were slim and long.

"Who is it from dear?"

She tore it open, her fingers ripping the paper and she took the folded letter out. With uneven heartbeat, she began to read it:

'My dear,

I hope you'll enjoy the show I put on in the Tower, I know I'll most certainly do.

The diamonds in the envelope are from the Crown Jewels, forgive for not being able to give you the whole thing, but otherwise the police would be knocking on your door. Still, now you own parts of them. Nine diamonds to be exact, I sincerly hope all of them are in the envelope - otherwise I'll have to skin someone after my trial.

A promise is a promise. Now consider my offer. I'll pick you up at 7 p.m. as soon as I'm out.

- J. M.

P.S.: I hope I'll see you in court.'

John shouted her name from upstairs, wondering why she ran. She ignored him and looked inside the envelope.

Nine diamonds. Nine of them, some bigger than the others, were shining in it.

Mrs. Hudson saw them too and she gasped in surprise.

"Oh my, you didn't tell me you had found yourself a man dear."

"I didn't know it up until now either, Mrs. Hudson."

"What is it?" John was standing on top of the staircase, looking at them with confusion.

"She has a boyfriend." Mrs. Hudson said happily, clapping her hands together.

"She has a what?"

"I don't have a boyfriend." she argued, her eyes still on the diamonds.

"What is it then?"

She didn't know how to feel or what to feel.

Deep down she felt like a real woman. A woman someone, a very special someone, wants to court. A woman who's looked at as someone interesting, important and worth stealing for. She was flattered. Truly.

On the other hand she felt scared and confused. Jim Moriarty was still Jim Moriarty, and she was still the girl from Baker Street. With him she'll never feel completely at ease or safe, there'll always be a wall standing between them what they'll never be able to cross.

But still...

He was so interesting.

She looked up at John as she put the envelope in her pocket.

"I have a date."

Mrs. Hudson laughed in happiness.

She turned towards the stairs, her brain completely blocking John's voice out as it worked and worked, trying to figure Jim out.

Jim. He was already Jim in her head.

Then a strange question appeared in big letters in her mind like a neon sign:

Why nine?

[nephalem-da]

Elara’s Playdate

(Bill Cipher x OC)

Synopsis: Bill Cipher drops off his mischievous baby daughter, Elara, with the unsuspecting Pines family while he celebrates his anniversary. Chaos quickly unfolds as the Pines struggle to control the demonic toddler, leading to the complete wreckage of the Mystery Shack.

The Mystery Shack was unusually quiet as the Pines family enjoyed a rare moment of peace. Mabel was doodling in her scrapbook, Dipper was buried in a journal, Stan was counting money behind the counter, and Ford was studying an ancient artifact. It was a day like any other—or so they thought.

A sudden surge of energy rippled through the shack, making the lights flicker. Before anyone could react, a portal opened in the middle of the room, swirling with bright colors. The Pines family jumped to their feet, immediately on guard. Stan reached for his brass knuckles, Mabel grabbed her grappling hook, and Ford quickly pulled out his ray gun.

Out of the portal stepped none other than Bill Cipher, but this time, he wasn’t alone. In his arms was a small, light purple triangle with a single eye and a giggle that could only be described as mischievously adorable.

“Hey, nerds!” Bill greeted with a wide grin, ignoring the fact that the Pines were ready to attack. “No need to get your knickers in a twist. I’m not here to cause trouble—well, not for the next few hours, at least.”

“Bill!” Dipper exclaimed, stepping forward, his journal clutched tightly in his hands. “What are you doing here? And… what is that?”

“This, Pine Tree, is my darling daughter, Elara.” Bill’s voice was almost proud as he looked down at the giggling little triangle in his arms. “Isn’t she just the cutest little reality-warper you’ve ever seen?”

The Pines family was stunned into silence. Ford, who had been studying Bill intently, looked the most shocked. “A child? But… how is that possible?”

Bill chuckled, seemingly enjoying their confusion. “Oh, it’s possible, Sixer. Just because you haven’t figured it out yet doesn’t mean it can’t happen. Anyway, it’s me and Mae’s anniversary today, and we’ve got some cosmic chaos planned. But we can’t exactly take our bundle of joy with us, now can we?”

Before anyone could protest, Bill floated over to Mabel and gently placed Elara in her arms. The little triangle cooed, looking up at Mabel with wide, innocent eyes. Mabel’s heart melted instantly, despite the fact that this was Bill Cipher’s offspring.

“Mabel, sweet shooting star, you’re in charge of her while we’re out,” Bill said, his tone suddenly serious. “If anything happens to my precious Elara, well… let’s just say you’ll find out there are fates worse than being turned into a sock puppet.”

Mabel gulped but nodded, unable to resist the adorable cooing of Elara. “Don’t worry, Bill! I’ll take good care of her.”

“Good!” Bill grinned, satisfied. “Mae sends her regards, by the way. And with that, I’m off!”

With a snap of his fingers, Bill disappeared back into the portal, which closed behind him with a flash of light, leaving the Pines family in stunned silence once again. Elara wriggled in Mabel’s arms, making a soft, happy noise that was almost too cute for words.

“Did that just happen?” Dipper finally asked, still trying to process what had just occurred.

“Yes,” Ford replied, his voice filled with disbelief. “Yes, it did.”

“Well, we can’t just leave it—her—alone,” Mabel said, looking down at Elara, who was now sucking on one of her tiny points as if it were a thumb. “She’s too adorable!”

Stan grumbled, crossing his arms. “Adorable or not, that thing is still Bill Cipher’s kid. I say we toss it back into whatever dimension it came from.”

“No way, Grunkle Stan!” Mabel protested, holding Elara protectively. “She’s just a baby. And besides, if Bill finds out we didn’t take care of her, who knows what he’ll do!”

Dipper sighed, knowing Mabel was right. “Okay, so what do we do? How do we take care of a… a baby triangle?”

Ford adjusted his glasses, deep in thought. “We’ll have to treat her like any other child—keep her entertained, fed, and most importantly, keep her from using any of her powers.”

“Easier said than done,” Dipper muttered.

The day that followed was nothing short of chaotic. Elara, despite her innocent appearance, quickly proved to be a handful. She had a knack for getting into trouble, whether it was floating up to the ceiling to play with the light fixtures, or phasing through walls to explore hidden rooms in the shack.

At one point, Stan tried to distract her with some toys, only for Elara to accidentally turn them into living creatures that began to wreak havoc in the living room. It took all of Dipper’s quick thinking and Mabel’s grappling hook to catch the rogue toys and return them to their inanimate state.

“Who knew babysitting a demonic triangle would be this hard?” Mabel panted, wiping sweat from her brow as she and Dipper corralled the last of the animated toys.

Elara giggled, clearly enjoying the chaos she had caused, while Stan looked like he was about ready to pull his hair out.

By the time the day was over, the Mystery Shack was in complete disarray. Furniture was overturned, pipes were leaking, and Stan’s prized taxidermy collection had been knocked over. The Pines family was utterly exhausted, sprawled out on the floor around Elara, who was now contently gnawing on a rubber duck Mabel had given her.

As the sun set, another portal opened in the middle of the room. Bill floated through, looking as pleased as ever, with Mae following close behind. The Pines family groaned, too tired to even get up.

“Well, well, well!” Bill exclaimed, surveying the wreckage with a laugh. “Looks like little Elara had a great time! Didn’t you, sweetie?”

Elara cooed happily, floating up into her father’s arms. Mae, who had been silently observing, shook her head with a small, amused smile. “Honestly, Bill, you could’ve warned them about how energetic she is.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Bill winked at her before turning back to the Pines. “You all did a decent job keeping her in one piece, so I guess I’ll keep my promise.”

“Promise?” Stan grumbled, struggling to sit up. “What promise?”

“I promised I might stop messing with you for a week if you kept her safe,” Bill said with a smirk. “Consider it your lucky break.”

Mabel, despite being utterly exhausted, couldn’t help but smile at Elara. “She really is cute, though.”

Mae floated over to Mabel, a soft expression on her face. “Thank you for looking after her, Mabel." She patted her head, "I knew I could count on you."

Mabel giggled as she handed Elara to Mae's outstretched hands, "Your welcome!"

Bill looked down at the Pines family one last time. “Well, it’s been fun, but we’ve got to get going. Mae, Elara, let’s roll!”

As the portal reopened, Bill and Mae floated through with Elara in tow. Just before the portal closed, Bill turned back with a mischievous grin. “See you around, nerds! And remember, don’t miss me too much!”

With that, the portal closed, leaving the Pines family in the wrecked remains of the Mystery Shack, utterly exhausted but strangely content.

Ford looked around at the chaos and let out a weary sigh. “I suppose we should be grateful that’s all they did."

Dipper nodded in agreement, leaning back against the wall. “Yeah, but I have a feeling this won’t be the last time we see them.”

Mabel, still holding the gem Mae had given her, smiled to herself. “I kind of hope not. Elara was pretty fun, in a weird, terrifying way.”

Stan groaned, dragging himself to his feet. “You kids are nuts. I need a nap.”

As the Pines family slowly began to clean up the mess, they couldn’t shake the feeling that their lives had just gotten a whole lot more complicated. But then again, when it came to Gravity Falls, nothing was ever simple.

[badaslovie]

jealous kisses

pairing: bada x reader

summary: bada and tatter were seen holding hands at a concert and you can't help but feel jealous.

warnings: 🤏🏼 suggestive

wc: ~ 1.5k

a/n: sooo i've never written before and honestly it's not the best, please spare me. also absolutely no hate to tatter i love her 🫶🏼

your head found a place in Bada’s lap as you both lounge around on lusher’s couch; her fingers tracing their way up from your cheeks to play with strands of your hair. you lean into her touch, reveling in her affection. it’s rare these days –with all the filming– for you both to have a moment to breathe and just enjoy the day. bada took this opportunity to have a movie night with you and the rest of team bebe, as a sort of team bonding moment, and lusher was nice enough to offer her apartment as the meeting place.

“what time did you tell them to come?” you look up from your phone to face lusher, who’s sitting on the couch diagonal to you.

“minah texted in the group chat that they were heading up so they should be-” your attention turns to the door at the ring of the bell. “-here.”

you sit up straight –cuddling into bada’s side as she wraps an arm over your shoulder– to make room for the others as lusher makes her way to open the door for the rest. they each pile in taking off their shoes and coats, greeting you three with hi’s and hugs.

“i brought snacks! everyone’s favorites!” cheche waves around the snack-filled bags in her hand.

everyone settles into their respective spots on the couches and excitedly dig into their snacks while searching on their phones for movies that the team could agree on.

“oh my god unnie did you see the picture the fans took of us? at the concert last night.” tatter hands bada her phone, you peek over to see a picture of bada guiding tatter to their seats by her hand. you knew bada and tatter were just good friends, but that didn’t stop your stomach from churning.

“this is so funny people are theorizing that we could be in a relationship, but little do they know…” tatter giggles, hinting at the lack of awareness the public had of your relationship with bada. you two are private about your relationship, to keep your peace away from prying eyes and also because you are on competing crews for swf2. you’re starting to regret that decision.

the others also giggle at the predicament, each saying a variation of how the public would be surprised to know the truth, unaware of your tense body sitting quietly next to bada.

“hey, are you alright love? you seem tense.” bada asks, giving your shoulders a light squeeze.

“uh yeah. i’m just gonna use the bathroom really quick.” you pat her leg and stand up. your head was spinning with so many thoughts that you didn't notice the others quieting down as they watched you beeline down the hall.

you lock the door to the bathroom and turn to face the mirror above the sink. your reflection looked like a blur; your mind racing with the event that just occurred, to all the comments swf2 contestants would make and all the times they were being touchy with bada. but bada would always set boundaries, some distance when anyone would get closer than what she knows you’re comfortable with. and usually you didn’t mind her holding hands as a platonic gesture, you did with your crew and friends too, but the comments just ate at your insecurities. your relationship might not be public, but you weren’t sparing with your affections, so why weren’t comments made about you two?

you turn on the faucet and attempt to wash away the lingering worries. you unlock the door to head out after drying your face, only to be stopped in your tracks by the sight of bada with her arms crossed, leaning against the wall. her brows were furrowed and her gaze was on the floor before she realized that you had opened the door. her eyes full of concern soften as they meet yours.

“you got up so abruptly and looked pale. are you sure you’re okay?” she steps forward to examine you closer, her eyes searching your face for any sign of illness.

you nod your head. “yeah i’m fine, i just needed a moment.”

“if this is about the picture, you know tatter and i are just friends right? you’re the one i want, no one else.” she reaches up to tuck a loose hair behind your ear and slides her hand down to rest by the base of your neck.

“i know… i just needed a moment to pull myself together.” you sheepishly look away, avoiding her eyes. 

"hmm i see..." she hums, stepping forward again and backing you into the wall as she places an arm above your head. 

“is someone jealous?” she brings her head down trying to meet your eyes and you catch a glimpse of her knowing grin. 

“you’re so cute when you’re jealous,” she coos, nudging your chin up with her finger to get you to meet her eyes. “you get all pouty and embarrassed.” her eyes trail down to your lips and like a pair of magnets, her lips slowly find their way to yours. her slow gentle kiss, the warmth of her touch, lulls you for just a moment.

when she pulls away, your eyes make contact for a moment before you avert back it to the wall.

“why are you still avoiding my eyes?”

“i can’t look at you right now.” you mumble.

she lets out a chuckle. “and why is that?”

“because…”

“because…?” she raises her brows expectantly.

“because! If I look at your pretty face right now, it’s just gonna remind me how every other girl thinks you’re pretty too and i can't stand it!” you huff out.

she bursts out laughing, throwing her head back.

“it’s not funny.” you whine, shoving her shoulder.

“maybe just a little.” she says, which makes you pout more –drawing her eyes back down to your lips. she brings a hand up to cup your jaw, pulling your face close enough that you feel her breath on your lips.

“i might hug other people, might even hold their hand… but my lips belong on yours.” her eyes still intensely staring at your lips, her tongue instinctively pokes out to wet her lips as she grazes your bottom lip with her thumb, pushing down on it a little.

“i only kiss you” she pulls you in to connect your lips, a little harder than the last. the kiss grew a little rougher, sloppier before she pulls back. “like this.” bada leans her forehead against yours, trying to catch her breath. you could see a string of your mixed saliva connecting your lips. from the way bada smirks, you can tell she noticed too.

“i only touch you like this.” her hands slide down your body slowly, making sure to take her time. she grazes over your clothed chest, down to pull you at your waist making you arch your body into hers, chests flushing together.

she looks down at where your bodies touched, biting back a smile, before reconnecting your lips. you can tell she was getting needy by how eager her kisses were. her tongue brushes over your bottom lip asking for access, which you give, letting her tongue explore yours. you wrap your arms around her neck, wanting her closer, needing to feel more of her. you feel her fingers dip under the seam of your shirt, grazing lightly over your skin. as though a light graze was not enough for her, she brings her warm hands up your shirt to feel more of you. she stops just above your rib cage, thumbs almost dipping underneath your bra.

“fuck baby, i love how you feel.” she pants out. her touch and words spread warmth throughout your body and your hands instinctively find their way to the back of her neck, giving the hairs a slight tug. she moans into your lips. the sounds of sloppy kisses and her quiet moans echoing through the halls send heat between your legs. as if she can sense it, bada pushes a leg in between yours barely grazing where you need her most. you tug at her hair a little harder for being a tease.

“ah, impatient are we?” she groans, loving the slight pain that shoots down her neck.

“YOU TWO BETTER NOT BE MAKING BABIES IN MY BATHROOM!” the sound of lusher’s voice booming from the living room breaks you two apart.

“THAT’S NOT EVEN BIOLOGICALLY POSSIBLE.” bada yells back, rolling her eyes.

“we’ll continue this later.” she smiles, giving you a quick peck.

bonus:

“so did y’all pick a movie?” bada asks nonchalantly as you both sit back down on the couch.

“yeah, but uh… unnie you smudged your lipstick a little.” kyma pointed at the side of her lips.

bada eyes widen as her hand quickly shoots up to wipe at her lips. the other girls laughed at bada incriminating herself.

“idiot you didn’t wear any lipstick today.” you swatted her hand.

[fairycheol]

enhypen as boyfriends

이희승

Heeseung is the type of boyfriend who likes to playfully flirt with you in public just to get a reaction out of you. It’s a habit he’s had since before you started dating.

But with his teasing comes his never ending urge to protect and take care of you, doesn’t matter if it’s pulling you to the inside of a sidewalk, tying your shoes for you, and making sure you are eating regularly.

And trust if he finds out you’ve skipped a meal, he’s sitting you down and personally hand feeding you everything.

Arguments between you two rarely occur and when they do happen it’s usually over something small, like forgetting to text him good morning or give him a kiss goodbye.

This man is so dramatic he once ignored you for an entire week because you mistook one of Jake’s hoodies as his (｡-_-｡)

All in all he just wants you to be happy with him, and he’s willing to do pretty much anything to make sure you feel that way.

박종성

Jay I think is more of a silent lover. He’s not screaming “I love you!” in your face 24/7 like some of the other members, but that doesn’t necessarily mean his love for you is any less.

He prefers showing his love for you by putting his black card to use no matter how much it may annoy you. Jay’s rich tho, so he has no problem dropping 1k dollars for you when he wants.

And while the expensive bouquet of flowers and fancy restaurant dates are nice, Jay also knows how to plan a more relaxed dinner date.

He’ll put his cooking skills to use and make a cute little picnic just for you, complete with activities like painting or stargazing.

You also didn’t hear this from me but, Jay is an extreme cuddlier. I’m talking straight up will put you in a chokehold just to keep you from getting up and leaving him in the freezing cold.

Kind of want my own silent lover Jay now ☹️

심재윤

Oh lord where do i even begin with Jake.

I guess i’ll start off by saying that he loves showing you off. I’m talking will go up to random strangers in a 7/11 to say things like,

“this is my girlfriend? isnt she so pretty?” and then he proceeds to get upset if the person agrees or says nothing at all like okay 💀

Then you have to yell at him for drawing to much attention to you when you have on disney pajama pants and the first sweater you could find from off your dirty floor, but he still insists you look great.

Apart from that he’s not afraid of being affectionate in public, he’ll hug you, hold your hand, and kiss you at any given moment. He still knows when to keep a respectable amount of distance between you two, especially if you begin to show signs of discomfort.

This man would be so in love it’s actually sickening, he stares at you like you made the universe. (cue Niki dramatically gagging in the background)

박성훈

The two of you are either polar opposite’s or the exact same in terms of personality but otherwise, star-crossed lovers. That’s exactly what you guys are.

Sunghoon I think is a perfect combination of what Jay and Jake are as boyfriends. He’s quiet but can get really loud with his affection whenever he wants.

Café dates are a must. He enjoys the peacefulness of sitting together drinking coffee and talking about how you’re both feeling.

I get the feeling his favorite form of physical affection is hugging you, getting to feel the warmth from your body and the way you nuzzle into his neck makes him feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

He’ll never admit this to you but he loves being woken up with kisses onto the moles that decorate his pale skin. He’s faked being asleep at least 10 times just to get some kisses and bask in the warmth of it all.

김선우

Sunoo is probably the most energetic lover out of all the enhypen members. Nothing and i mean absolutely nothing can stop him from letting it be known just how happy he is to have you in his life.

He loves any and all kinds of dates, baking dates? loves it. stay at home dates? he’s got snacks ready. fancy dates? oh he’s going ALL OUT.

Taking pictures of the two of you is another favorite of his. His camera roll is 90% just you. He tears up a little when he has to make room for camera storage cause he wants to cherish your memories together on his phone.

I think he’s also very big on keeping you well fed. He’s always making trips to the store and buying your favorite snacks so you never run out.

Physical affection is another big thing for him, he wants you to feel his love not just through his words and actions but quite literally through his body too.

He’s a perfect boyfriend.

양정원

Jungwon, Jungwon, Jungwon, our lovely leader is def a shy lover. He’s quiet but his actions speak a lot louder than words.

He basks in the warmth of your love and affection. He’s exactly like a cat, YOU kind of have to do all the work but it’s honestly not as bad as it sounds.

He lives for dates in the park, getting to walk around and find a good place to set up your picnic makes him very happy for some reason.

And trust me when i say he has fallen asleep on your lap a good number of times, but he can’t help it! he just gets all warm and happy around you.

I do think because of his leader instincts he’s very protective of you. One time you scraped your knee at the park and my guy was running around almost in tears ready to fight the pebble you tripped on.

He eventually calmed down enough to get some bandaids from a near by store and fix you up. He insisted on carrying you all the way home and was some how successful on doing so.

西村 力

He’s your concert/trip buddy. You two will go anywhere and everywhere together it kind of annoys the members but hey, young love.

He once spotted you at one of their tour stops in the U.S. and he almost lost his mind. Fans got suspicious as to why he began to pay so much attention to the section you were sitting in.

Niki likes to facetime you at random parts of the day just to annoy you, jkjk he does it cause he wants to talk with you. Being around the hyungs for so long makes him miss you and feel lonely but he’ll never admit that.

He more often then not will sneak you into the practice room to show off his dancing and will ask for your opinion afterwards.

It’s mandatory that you give him a kiss everytime he does something good or else he gets upset 😠

All in all he’s just happy to have someone to call his home away from home.

[hornedmonsters]

Anubis x Reader - Dance with death

Warnings: Not really. romantic, dancing, Reader doesn't like alcohol here and is rather "quiet", talk about death

Synopsis: At a ball of the gods, you bump into Anubis in the garden at night. Just like you, he flees from the noise and is looking for peace and quiet.

You carefully took a goblet. Your gaze swept across the gigantic hall as you sipped the liquid. You sighed. Why was there alcohol everywhere?

You were actually looking for a simple drink to curb the heat that was spreading through your body. You leaned against one of the large pillars and watched the gods and few mortals celebrating together.

The reason for the celebration had escaped you, you accepted the invitation so that it wouldn't seem rude. You were actually a relatively introverted person and enjoyed the peace and quiet. Even if, for a brief moment, it was a nice change to watch people celebrating.

But you couldn't stand it for long. Your energy dwindled and the music pounded in your ears. You started to get a headache. You got warm and somehow everyone who got a little too close to you got on your nerves.

Then it occurred to you that there was a fountain with drinking water outside in the garden. You poured out one of the goblets and snuck out of the hall.

The cold air immediately hit your face and you sighed. Immediately your mood improved and you walked along the path. Stars twinkled in the sky and it was quiet in the darkness. The gravel crunched under your shoes as you walked towards the fountain with your goblet.

The sounds of the party slowly faded into the distance and your gaze fell on the beautiful flower bushes. Different colors glowed in the darkness.

The splashing of the fountain caught your attention and you sat down on the cool stone of the fountain's edge. You gently let your hand slide into the water and shudder. Then you felt the water in your goblet and took a big sip. At last. You rubbed your face as you put the goblet away.

For a brief moment, it was really pleasant that it was so quiet. Until a voice snapped you out of your thoughts.

"Not in the mood for the party either?" The dark voice made you flinch and you stared into the darkness in front of you. Glowing eyes stared at you intently and your heart stopped. "I... I needed some fresh air," you confessed to the glowing balls of light and continued to stare at them in fascination.

A dark, growling chuckle came from the shadows and suddenly the eyes drew closer. A tall figure emerged from the darkness and a jackal's head came into your field of vision.Your eyes widened and you swallowed hard as the god of the realm of the dead approached you.

You didn't know what to do, but in the meantime he sat down next to you and you immediately stiffened.You were rarely nervous around gods. Maybe because you rarely met one. But you had immense respect for Anubis. Apart from that, you were so fascinated by him and it made you dizzy that he was sitting next to you.

"Who doesn't need it?" His gaze lowered to you and you smiled softly. There was a brief, actually, comfortable silence. You both looked at the lights of the temple where the celebration was taking place and listened to the sounds of the music.

You didn't notice how Anubi's eyes wavered on you and he scrutinized your small form. You unconsciously started shivering. The nights here were usually pretty cold. Anubis took off the cloak he had been wearing and suddenly put it around your shoulders. You flinched when you felt the warm fabric against your skin.

"Are you shivering like that because you're cold or because you're afraid of me?" The god joked and your cheeks started to glow.

"More because I'm cold. I'm not afraid of you," you replied and looked up at him. His gaze was gentle.

"Many people are afraid of me," he confessed, but his expression remained gentle. Death was his everyday life, there was hardly anything else in his life. Every day he accompanied the souls of people and picked up. You still looked at him with pity.

"I think because most people are also afraid of death," you estimated. "I mean, who isn't afraid of death? It's such an inexplicable and mysterious thing," you stared up at the starry sky, lost in thought.

"You're right, but it's part of life. Old life ends and new life begins," his gaze also turned to the sky. Then his eyes fell back on the temple and back to you. Suddenly he stood up and held out his claw to you.

"Would you like to dance?"You were taken aback by his question and your cheeks began to glow at the same time.

"I can't dance," you breathed sheepishly and a slight grin crept onto his lips. His pointed canines flashed."I'm not a really good dancer either, but I'll lead you.

"You thought about it for a moment, but then grabbed his claw and let him pull you to your feet. He gently pulled you away from the fountain and led you into the open space between the flower bushes and statues.He gently held your hands for a moment. Then he brought one of them to his shoulder and kept the other in his claw. Carefully, he placed his other claw on your hip and guided you.

You glided gently across the square and you were surprised how easy it was for you to follow him. You laughed as he lifted you into the air and spun you around. You've never felt so comfortable, especially when dancing.

"I'm really glad I got out of here," you giggle as you continue to hold on to him.

"I feel the same way. I was actually looking for peace and quiet, but I found you," his deep voice breathed and your cheeks burned again.You leaned against his chest and he did nothing about it. He enjoyed your warmth, it was a nice change from the cold death and the souls he saw.Anubis pressed you tighter against him. It suddenly felt as if you had known each other for ages, even though the god was far older than you.

Eternities passed, eternities of peace, silence and togetherness. After dancing, you sat down by the fountain and talked. But unfortunately the time came when you had to go home.

"It's getting late," you breathe a little sadly. You wanted to get up and Anubis held out his claw to help you up, but he remained seated. He didn't let go of your small hand, however, and the pad of his thumb stroked the back of your hand.

"We will meet again, (Y/n).

Tags: @akashakushrenada

[oxymorayuri]

❞Sure Daddyyyy❝

Part two

If you haven't read the first part yet, you can find it here. ♡♡♡

𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐒𝐓: 生ﾊﾑ

✦ Pairing: trafalgar law x reader ✦ Warnings: insults, use of alcohol, mature content ✦ Spoiler: nope

wordcount: 4292

description: After leaving the deck, you go to your cabin and curse at the dark haired man, but don't worry, you'll soon get rid of all your frustration.

! ᴍᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴍɪɴᴏʀꜱ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛ !

"Stupid ass!" You slam the door shut and lean against it with your back. Now that you're alone in your room, you can finally let out all your anger.

You had a bit of trouble getting to your bed because the alcohol was beginning to kick in.

While kicking off your shoes, you fall into your bed and lie with your face on the pillow.

Annoyed, you growl into the pillow and ignore how hard it is to breathe. Yes, you're angry, but somehow you're also exhausted.

Law knows exactly how you feel about him and, more importantly, how you both feel about each other.

What does he have against it? gosh!

Due to the lack of air, you roll onto your back and your eyes fall on Law's jacket that he once lent you. You crawl over your bed and pull at the jacket, causing it to fall off the clothes rack.

It still smells like him. You take in the scent deeply as you snuggle into the fabric. Your eyes fall on the logo on the back.

"Corazon…" you whisper as your long fingers stroke the lettering. You know exactly what special value this jacket has and yet Law left it to you that evening. You remember it like it was yesterday…

[back then]

After what felt like an eternity, you went back to the surface after the Polar Tang had been underwater for weeks. You wanted to feel the sun on your skin, smell the sea and you weren't the only one. The others in the crew were just as excited as you were to soak up some sun again. You and your bestie Ikakku threw yourselves into bikinis and sipped a few drinks in the sun. Even though it was always noisy on the deck, you didn't want to complain, you didn't begrudge the others enjoying their time on deck. And if you're honest, it was always pure entertainment.

You will still have your peace and quiet at the latest when night falls and you are alone with the moon.

The fresh sea breeze gives you goose bumps, but you don't even notice as you gaze dreamily into the moon's watery reflection. With your hands on the railing, you gaze into the distance. The sea glistens and is calm. Something that rarely occurs.

The evening is so peaceful and in moments like these you almost forget the stressful pirate life.

A faint smirk forms on your lips.

Stressful pirate life? Law does everything he can, to ensure that you hardly ever get into any dangerous situations. You have it pretty easy for a pirate crew, even though you're not that weak. You've begged him thousands of times to at least take you with him. After all, you're a pretty good swordswoman and use Haki. Even the famous 'Hawk Eyes', Mihawk, has complimented you on the way you handle your sword.

Law would never say that you're too weak, or rather he doesn't think that you're weak.. Otherwise he wouldn't have wanted you on his team but it's very obvious how much he wants to avoid the subject. He skillfully changes the subject or threatens that if you don't leave the topic, it'll be a month of toilet cleaning.

You don't even notice when the door of the Polar Tang opens and footsteps come towards you. You only notice his presence when Law puts his jacket over your shoulder.

"A little too lightly dressed, aren't you y/n-ya?"

You're a little startled but relax immediately when you hear Law's voice.

"It's not that cold…" you pout a little as you snuggle into his jacket. Your reaction makes him smirk and he turns his gaze to the moon. For a 'brief' moment, your eyes run over his figure.

He's standing right next to you, leaning over the railing with a bare chest and wearing only his typical jeans.

You suspect that he was wearing his jacket until just now. The biggest proof; it smells like him. Your eyes seem to have been on his torso for a second too long as his deep fake cough draws your attention to his face. Law's look tells you that he's well aware of how you're gawking at him and a blush promptly rises to your face.

The rest was pretty unspectacular and basically the two of you just talked until you yawned and decided to go to bed. Just in front of your bedroom door, you notice that you're still wearing his jacket and hesitantly tug at the fabric.

Actually, you don't want to give him the jacket back and he hasn't noticed… You decided that you would give it back tomorrow as you stepped into your room.

[Present]

And yet you are holding his jacket in your hands. It's already been two weeks, but it's not as if you didn't try to give him the jacket back, but he just left it to you. Sounds strange and it kind of was.

You get up and for whatever reason you take off your top and put on Law's jacket, imitating his outfit. It's probably because you're pretty drunk but you kind of like the way you look in his jacket.

The jacket is open but still barely covers your nipples and only a few curves and your belly button are visible.

His words had only confused you more.

"You can keep it with you if you want." He said that to you as nonchalant as usual when his eyes were on his papers… as if you had just told him dinner was ready or something similar. You just stood in his office with your mouth open and uttered a slightly confused 'sure' as you left the room.

"Oh Law you little bitch… I'm not fifteen anymore where I borrow my boyfriend's sweater…" you curse a bit dirty while you greedily take in the manly scent of his jacket, standing in front of the mirror.

"I'm a woman… I want more."

Your anger, your unsatisfied feelings, Law's smell, the alcohol and perhaps your own reflection put you in a rather exhilarated mood. You felt horny.

A knock on your door brings you out of your wild thoughts.

"Hey y/n-ya? Can I come in?"

You rush to the door and pull it open without much thought and Law stands in front of you with an almost troubled look on his face. His eyes run all over your frame as you stare at him expectantly. Annoyed, you put one hand on your hip, while his jacket reveals a bit of your hip. Law's brain is rebooting every second and he takes a small step backwards.

"Listen, I wanted to talk to you, can I maybe come in?" Wow, he can speak… but his gaze remains on your slightly covered chest. He can't quite process the sight, but he can't look away either.

"Hey, my eyes are up here! But of course, come in…" You cross your arms in front of your chest and go back into the room, while Law closes the door behind him.

Over the last few weeks, he has often wished to see you in his jacket, but he wouldn't have expected such a sight. He wouldn't have dared to view you so nakedly and yet you're standing in front of him. Nakedly... His jacket shows just enough of your skin to feed any fantasies.

You don't miss his stare and you decide to be bold.

"Well, do you like what you see?" You walk towards him with dangerously slow steps. Your eyes are locked and neither of you dares to turn away.

Law can't and you don't want to.

"You wanted to talk to me?" You walk right past him and sit down on your bed… He could only catch your beautiful scent.

"Listen, I don't want any tension between us. Not if I leave tomorrow…" - "Then why don't we release the tension together?" You lean back on your elbows with a playful grin. Law's jacket falls further to the side, revealing more of your fine skin to him. For a split second, his eyes go back to your chest, but he quickly regrets that he can't control himself. You're pleased though, that's exactly how you want to see him. Usually you are the one who always have heavy feelings and Law is the one who keeps his cool, but not today.

You run one hand over your free hip and bring your fingers to your breast. Without making a single sound, Law stares at you with his eyes, looking tortured, as if he can't control himself for much longer.

You don't care about anything from now on. You want Law. Now.

You carefully grab the sides of the jacket to expose your breasts. Law comes closer to the bed, right up to the edge, and even though he doesn't look very satisfied, the excitement gathers in your stomach.

"Please don't y/n…" He begs you, full of agony… but his eyes fly shamelessly over your body. His chest rises and falls a little faster…

But you can't help it either. How could you? After all, he's making it difficult for you too.

The way he stands in front of you, with a look that actually undresses you, which he just can't admit. And the sight of him in his black button up shirt, which he always wears slightly open… His eyes follow your movements greedily, even desperately. You know he wants you. He can't deny that.

But before you can expose yourself, Law grabs your hands and stops you. Your world is shaken for a moment, because Law is suddenly very close to you. His stormy gaze pierces through your skull and you notice a slight anger rising in him.

"Stop y/n!" He orders you. You're pretty good at the anger thing too, if not ten times better! You push him away from you, causing him to take a step back and you stand up. You don't let him refuse you any longer and with quick steps you brazenly fall into his arms. You wrap your arms around his neck and your bare chests meet.

"I can't do this any longer Law. Please don't push me away from you." You whisper your words to him as you reveal your most desperate wish.

You're being too much for Law right now, especially since he's leaving the crew tomorrow… But he's actually only doing it for you. He has to do it.

"y/n please understand. We shouldn't be doing this. Who knows when I'll be back…" His words leave a bitter taste in your mouth.

You avert your eyes from him, feeling so exposed.

"What if I don't come back?" he searches your gaze and takes your chin to pull your face towards him. A little hesitantly, you look into his eyes.

"I don't care if today might be the first and last time, Law." Law can tell from your eyes how serious you are.

"What if I break your heart y/n? I have plans. Plans that are dangerous." He caringly strokes your cheek with his hand.

You enjoy his gentle touch and it leaves a warmth that doesn't seem to disappear. You hate it when he's like this… People say; live like it's your last day… but Law hasn't understood the real message behind it. Law lives, as if he could die any day and that's why he keeps his loved ones away, so he doesn't cause too much pain if something goes wrong on his missions.

"Law, I don't want to keep wondering what could be, what WE could be. I don't want to live lies…" You rest your hands on his chest and Law wraps an arm around you, to pull you closer to him. He leaves no space between the two of you and you're not sure if you can feel your heartbeat or his.

"Are you sure?" He looks like he just wants to make sure you're ready to take that risk. His voice is almost desperate, as if he will break if you pull back.

"Oh Law, even if it is just once." Law puts his hand over his eyes as he leans his head back. Apparently he is still struggling with himself. Groaning, he runs his fingers over his nose as he squints his eyes.

His fiery gaze sparks excitement in you as he looks into your eyes again.

"Fuck y/n."

You close your eyes as he finally closes the gap between you and his lips rest on yours.

His hands run along your hips as if he had already touched you thousands of times. His touch leaves marks on your skin that you can't see but you do feel.

As you greedily feast on each other's lips, Law grabs your thighs and pulls you up. You wrap your legs around him to support yourself better. One of your hands rests on his shoulder while the other strokes his cheek. For a brief moment, you part your lips to look into each other's eyes. You can finally feel him.

With you in his arms, he walks to your bed and sits down. He leans back a little to enjoy the sight of you and an outright naughty grin appears on his lips.

"Take off your coat for me y/n." No matter how demanding his words are, his voice is begging you. It sends shivers down your spine and without hesitation you slowly brush the jacket down your shoulders.

Law's pupils dilate at the sight of your already hardening nipples. You can no longer ignore the throbbing in your middle and you notice how everything in your abdomen tightens. The feeling is as tormenting, as it is satisfying and impatiently you start to rub back and forth on Law's lap. You don't want to wait long and reach for his belt to undo his pants.

Law's hands go straight to your hips and stop you with all his strength. You look at him in confusion.

"Easy easy, y/n… Now that we're crossing that line, I want to take all the time in the world." His voice is so sensual that it drives you insane and you stop to let go of the belt, only for Law to take the lead. He squeezes you lightly on his erection, causing a shiver of pleasure run through your whole body.

His thumbs press lightly into your inner thighs as he moves towards your panties.

The closer he gets to your underwear, the more you lose yourself in the moment.

You feel the need to touch yourself and without any shame you start to knead your breasts while Law moves you rhythmically over his boner.

If you are almost losing your mind because of this, then you are even more excited, to see what happens when Law enters you.

"You do so well for me y/n. Don't stop touching yourself. Show me where to touch you." He moans seductively to you.

A little hesitantly, you grab his hand and place it on your stomach, just above your panties. Without taking your eyes off him, you slide his hand in your pants and under your underwear, while lifting yourself slightly from Law, so that he can move between your wet folds.

Law is visibly pleased that you decide to lead him straight to that spot and his body responds immediately when he feels your dampness.

With great tenderness, he sinks a finger inside you, carefully observing every little reaction on your face.

You would never have expected that just one of his fingers would trigger so many feelings in you and you let your head fall back.

Law, on the other hand, who is getting hungrier and hungrier, leaves your wet hole and comes up to you, to engage you in a sinful tongue kiss. His hands go over every curve of your body and make sure that a thousand blissful emotions run through your body.

With you in his arms, he turns around that you are now lying under him.

He rests his hands on your knees as he looks down at you while standing between your legs.

As if in a trance, you watch him while he finally takes off his shirt and he enjoys the way you look at him. He proudly presents himself above you and your eyes are allowed to wander over his chest for the first time without any sense of shame.

Law skillfully moves his hands to make sure you are free from your pants and enjoys the sight of you lying in front of him in just your underwear.

He strokes your folds with his hand and the pressure makes sure that your slip gets a little soaked. Law runs his tongue over his lips as if imagining what he might do to you first.

You can hardly ignore the bulge in his pants. The imprint of his hard cock is even more pleasing than you could ever imagine and you can feel your arousal growing.

With pleading eyes, you beg for release. Law just gives you a dirty grin, which makes your heart skip a beat.

"You needy bitch." There's something almost dangerous in his voice, but you're ready to surrender to him completely.

When you hear Law open his pants, you have to pull yourself together to keep your greedy cunt from pressing against his dick. You swing awkwardly back and forth to compensate the pressing feeling between your legs which makes Law laugh.

He gently places his tip at the entrance to your little hole while you are still wearing your underwear.

These indirect touches make you lose your mind and to relieve the tension you play with your nipples.

Law enjoys the sight, every sound you make and the way you touch yourself. He takes his time as he slides his cock over your folds.

It feels like an eternity has passed while Law plays with you.

You close your eyes and let the feelings inside you build up and when you feel Law push your panties aside, your breathing stops.

You get chills as his member touches your soft pussy but he doesn't penetrate. No, no. He smears himself with your natural juices as he rubs his bare cock against you. The warm feeling of his skin on your clit sends a tingle through your body and makes you moan loudly.

Right at this moment, Law can take no more and sinks his tip into you. You are quite tight, which makes him moan as he slowly but firmly penetrates you. You let your eyes fall back as the sensation overwhelms you. Law's tenderness kills your patience.

"Please fuck me hard, Law." Weakly, you blink at him. You can't take any more, you need to release your built up feelings and the only one who can make sure you're satisfied is Law.

"As you wish." Law's lips go up again, you're driving him crazy… the way you're lying there. Like a goddess with one arm over your head and one hand on your beautiful breast. And the way you look… you look so needy. It drives him wild.

Without hesitating for long, he grabs you by your ass and pulls you towards him. Without any real problems, his member disappears completely inside you because you are so wonderfully wet. He grabs the back of your knees while you stretch your back. He penetrates you repeatedly with steady thrusts and a wave of heat shoots through your body. His movements are so energetic that you curl your toes.

"Show me your beautiful eyes y/n." he calls out to you.

Weakly, you open your eyes to look into his deep and intimidating eyes. Law leans your legs against his shoulders, allowing him to penetrate you even deeper. The fulfilling feeling between your legs is a little painful, but when he pulls out again, you immediately miss the aching pain.

"Oh… Law!" Your breathing is out of control, you can't keep up with his pace as Law gets faster and faster.

His breathing gets increasingly louder and sweat forms on his forehead. You are almost at the end but before you reach your climax, Law pushes one last time and his cock leaves your dilated hole. You immediately miss the filling feeling Law gave you but don't worry Law just wants to pull you up to turn you over.

His hand pushes your back down and your ass sticks up in the air for him. Before you can really realize what is happening to you, he is already thrusting inside you and all you can hear is the naughty smacking of your bare skin.

The blood rushes to your head and you struggle to keep your legs steady as Law doesn't stop at pounding into you like it's the last time. His fingers bury themselves in the soft skin of your ass as he moans in a muffled voice.

With one hand he grabs you by your hair and pulls you towards him so that you touch his chest with your back, while he continues to fuck your sweet cunt sore.

"I will always come back to you y/n" He whispers the words so lovingly in your ear that tears come to your eyes. You still can't live with the thought of him leaving tomorrow.

"I love you Law." Law's arm wraps around your torso and massages your breast. The gentle touches and the constant pounding push you to your limits and suddenly every tension in your body is released. You've come and while Law hasn't finished yet, you try to keep your wobbly legs upright.

Law notices that you are struggling to keep your figure upright and places you back on his lap while he lies on his back. Your legs feel numb and you are quite overstimulated at the moment.

"Come on y/n, I'm almost done."

He grabs you by your hips to move you up and down. If it were up to you, you would be enjoying him all night but Law needs his sleep so you savor the last few moments.

With his final thrust, he fills you with his seed and sends himself to a well deserved orgasm.

He pulls your tired body down to him and kisses your forehead, while you rest on his upper body and close your eyes.

"Law let me come with you, please." He brushes a strand of hair out of your face and thinks for a moment.

"You should go to sleep now y/n." You were already expecting an answer like that and you breathe out in defeat.

It doesn't take long and you're in the land of dreams, with the man of your dreams by your side.

The next morning you wake up because of the general commotion outside your room and suddenly it hits you like a bullet.

Law is leaving today! You have to say goodbye!

As soon as you move to get up, you fall back into your bed. Your legs are still a little weak and your core feels a little sore.

So it wasn't a dream and you and Law have finally taken the courage. Further proof of last night is a note Law left you.

"Good morning y/n, I'm leaving at 12. Pack your things and be on time. And drink this. It will help you with your hangover."

You look at the words on the note and read them over and over again. You can't quite grasp what you're reading. Do you understand correctly? Law is taking you with him?

You are so full of happiness that you don't even have the slightest sign of a hangover, but you drink the water anyway and take the pill that Law has put on your bedside table.

You hastily get ready and pack the essentials and when you look at the clock, it's almost 12 o'clock.

Leaving your room, you grab your sword and run down the corridors of the Polar Tang. When you arrive on deck, all your friends are already gathered to say their goodbyes to Law.

As Law's eyes fall on you, a smile adorns his face as he sees your stuffed backpack.

"You got everything?" he asks as he reaches for your backpack. A couple of crew members are visibly confused, as the air between you was pretty thick yesterday, but they're glad that everything is back to normal.

"Yes, I'm ready." You sheathe your sword on your back and give him a big grin.

"Wait a minute, am I getting this right…? Is y/n going with you Captain." Ikkaku interrupts your grinning contests.

"Yea she'll come with me everywhere starting today." Nobody misses Law's loving look and together you get into the small boat, that will take you to the island.

Into an adventure… your adventure.

Masterlist

Whew, I stayed up much longer than I wanted to. Oopsie woopsie. Nightyyyy ❤

𝑾𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆, 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒚𝒖𝒓𝒊 ♡

[frvnkcastles]

hey i hope ur okay! 🥰

can i ask frank castle x reader?

reader is two months pregnant, but one day she goes out with her friend and fights with her. When she gets home Frank is waiting for her in the living room, but she starts to have a panic attack and ends up having a miscarriage? ...and Frank helps her

I'm sorry if it's so specific, I love your writing and I really trust you to write this! (if you like it and feel comfortable, of course ❤️)

FOLLOW ME DOWN ➵ F. CASTLE

Summary: After a fight with your friend, you go home to Frank for comfort only to end up in the throes of a panic attack and, what’s worse, a complication in your pregnancy.

Warnings: Miscarriage, hurt/comfort, panic attack, feminine nicknames

Word count: 1.7k

Author’s note: Anon, I can’t tell you what it means to me that you said you trust me with this! I really hope I did your request justice, and I’m sending so much love to you and anyone who may have experienced this <3

You prided yourself in always being an understanding, open-minded friend who could be relied on, who was all ears no matter what the problem was, and you didn’t handle conflict all too well. Somewhat of a mediator, you rarely put yourself in a confrontation, and always attempted with all your might to keep things civil and peaceful — so, needless to say, arguing with your friends or other loved ones was not a common occurence.

And yet, on a Saturday that was supposed to be fun and a way to unwind, you and your friend of many years ended up having the most heated fight you had had, possibly ever. In hindsight, it was difficult to even remember what had sparked the fire or what had fueled the flames, but it had ended with you storming out of the diner you had met up in, wiping away tears while driving back home. You had been so excited to catch up, to tell her all about your progressing pregnancy and relationship with Frank, and it could not have gone worse.

You found comfort in the fact that Frank would be at home, waiting for you. The fight had left you wounded and fragile and he always knew what to say, how to make things better, and he was good at calling you out if necessary, with the gentlest of ways, of course. He understood you in a way that no one else did, and he was excellent at helping you piece together whatever had been broken.

It was his never-ending love for you that had helped you confess to him that you were pregnant, because God surely knew you had had reservations about it. It hadn’t been planned in the slightest, and you knew that Frank’s past was going to impact his feelings about it, understandably. Yet, when you had come forward and meekly admitted that you were secretly really happy about it and wanted to keep the baby, he had reacted better than you had anticipated and hugged you tightly. He was, of course, anxious but he hadn’t hesitated to agree with you and insist that he really wanted it, too.

Arriving at home, you slammed the door shut harder than you had meant to, and Frank flinched on the couch where he had been mindlessly watching a hockey game. You quietly apologized for the noise, and as you awkwardly kicked your shoes off, Frank sat up straight and observed you and your defeated face. Your belly wasn’t too much in the way yet, but you still struggled to bend down and put your shoes in the right place, though before Frank could shoot up from the living room and do it for you like he had begun to do with everything, you managed.

”Didn’t think you’d be back so soon, sweetheart”, Frank commented, gently probing. Even though he didn’t come right out and say it, he could tell something was wrong; it was written all over your face and your unusually quiet mood. He frowned, watching you closely as you staggered into the kitchen and poured yourself a glass of water, one that you didn’t quite get to finish when your hands began shaking and tears pooled in your eyes.

Once your sniffles filled the silence, Frank was up in no time. He made his way to you, his strong arms wrapping around your waist while he spun you around and tilted his head down to meet your eye. One of his hands came up to your face, his finger tenderly lifting your jaw despite your feeble attempts to pull away from his exposing hold.

”What happened, sweet girl? ’M right here to hear ya out, whatever it is”, he reassured, his voice firm and gravelly and more than capable of tearing down your defenses. Bursting into loud cries, you buried your face in his chest and he quickly hid you in his protective embrace, quietly shushing you.

”We had a fight. It was so—so stupid, but she got so mad and I just… I had to get out of there”, you sobbed, hiccuping and fighting for air. Frank caressed your hair, trying to get you to calm down, but you only escalated from there.

In a blink of an eye, Frank’s tight hold on you went from comforting to panic-inducing, and your breathing picked up. An uneasy tightness gripped your chest and you started to spiral, struggling to inhale and exhale and your head spinning, forcing you to pull away from Frank and bend over the countertop.

”Hey, hey, sweetheart, look at me. It’s alright, it’s gon’ be okay. Just breathe with me, yeah?” Frank instructed, effortlessly recognizing the tell-tale signs of a panic attack, his hand on your back as he lowered himself to your level. He made a dramatic gesture with his hand to mimic the flow of air, and locking eyes with him, you tried your best to follow his lead. He could see the fear in your stare, but he willed himself not to chase you down that path. He was usually pretty good at that, keeping himself controlled and calm, even if you were the total opposite of that.

”Just like that, attagirl. Keep goin’. You’re doin’ so good”, he praised you, giving you a solemn nod to confirm that you were doing exactly as he wanted you to. Slowly but surely, it did start to feel like you were regaining charge of yourself, but before the terror could completely subside, you felt a sharp pain in your abdomen.

Groaning in agony, you doubled over, your breathing growing erratic once more. ”Frank—Frank, something’s… something’s wrong”, you stammered, holding your belly as the pain seemed to only grow.

No longer as calm as he would have liked, Frank’s instincts kicked in. He quickly grabbed his boots from the doorway and pulled them on before snatching his keys from the kitchen counter and then reaching you again. ”I’m gonna carry you, okay, sweetheart? I’m takin’ you to the hospital”, he spoke, his words shaky but his hands unwavering as he lifted you into his arms. You cried out, your eyes squeezed shut as you tried to keep the panic attack at bay, but it was proving to be impossible.

Frank buckled you in his truck and then jumped behind the wheel, wasting no time in rolling into motion and heading straight for the hospital, all the while telling you to breathe. You were writhing in pain on the passenger seat, holding your stomach and trying your hardest to keep breathing, despite how imminent your doom felt. Your head hurt and there was an invisible anvil on your chest, and in the moment, you weren’t sure you’d make it.

Speeding only enough to get you to the hospital as swiftly as possible but not enough to endanger you even further, Frank held a steel grip on the wheel. His heart was pounding and he felt sick to his stomach, but for you, he tried to keep himself together — even if he was fearing the worst.

Things moved quickly from there, as it didn’t take the nurses long to figure out they were dealing with something serious. You were sedated and wheeled away, and Frank was left pulling his hair and pacing back and forth in the waiting room. As soon as you were out of his hands, he lost his cool and broke down into tears, his palm covering his mouth as he leaned against the wall for support. He had hovered over you the entire pregnancy, always on the lookout for any threats, but he couldn’t have prepared for this.

Midnight arrived by the time you woke up. You were groggy and your head felt like it had been filled with rocks, but your weary eyes slowly grew accustomed to the dimly lit room you had been taken in, with the machines around you beeping and, most importantly, Frank seated by your side. He was holding your hand and keeping it against his mouth, needing any part of you close to him. At first, you smiled at the sight of him. But you quickly saw the redness in his eyes and the despair on his face, and it got you to shake your head, refusing to believe what his expression was telling you.

”Don’t tell me”, you whispered, your eyes filling with tears as you watched him wipe his own face and give you an apologetic look.

”They tried their hardest. But it was too late”, Frank spoke quietly, his voice hollow and dejected as it filled the room with the painful truth. Sobbing yet again, you hid your face in your free hand, and with a sniffle, Frank kissed the back of your hand repeatedly, his way of consoling you without words — because truthfully, he didn’t know what he could have possibly said to alleviate the hurt you both shared.

”I’m so sorry”, you cried out, ”I’m so sorry, Frank.” That was your first instinct, to apologize for reeling him in and signing him up for more pain. He had already lost two children, how could you possibly make up for adding another one to that list? You felt like you could drown in the regret and shame, even if you had done nothing wrong, and he tried his damnest to help you understand that.

”It ain’t your fault, baby. You hear me? You haven’t done anythin’ wrong. You’re perfect, aight? Perfect”, he emphasized, leaving no room for argument as he met your sorrowful gaze. He was heartbroken, too, but he would have never blamed you for this. ”I still got you. And we’re gonna get through this together”, he added, squeezing your hand.

For a moment, you just sat there in silence, mourning together like you would be doing for a long time, but eventually there was a knock on the open door and you looked up to find your friend standing there. She looked so small and sad, clearly ashamed of your fight, and you felt the same way. Frank kissed your hand once more before getting up to give you a moment, and as he left the room, your friend walked over to the seat he had abandoned.

She whispered an apology and you instantly opened your arms to invite her in for a hug. She dived into your hold and you embraced carefully but with feeling, both of you feeling the urge to mend your bond and get past the argument you had had.

You had been torn down and reduced into a mess, but you knew that with your friend and Frank with you, you could rebuild.

[aventurineswife]

Where the Lost Find Home

Summary: Jing Yuan encounters an otherworldly fairy who stowed away on his ship after fleeing the destruction of her world. Drawn to her fragile resilience, he guides her as she adjusts to life aboard the Luofu. As the fairy finds a new home, Jing Yuan rediscovers a long-forgotten warmth, a spark of hope that softens his centuries-hardened heart.

Tags: @thalita2, Jing Yuan x Fairy!Fem!Reader, Slow Burn, Found Family, Emotional Healing, Emotional Exploration, Comfort and Angst, Romantic Undertones.

Warnings: Mentions of loss and grief (fairy’s race is extinct), Gentle romance (slow development), Healing and self-discovery, Light angst, Themes of loneliness and survivor's guilt, Light romantic tension and introspection.

The stars above the Xianzhou Luofu were more than just celestial bodies. To some, they were the beacons of destiny; to others, the silent witnesses of countless ages. Jing Yuan, Arbiter-General of the Xianzhou Alliance and leader of the Cloud Knights, often found solace in the stillness of space. His usual calm demeanor belied the depth of his experience—he had lived long enough to see civilizations rise and fall, and yet he remained an unwavering fixture among the cosmos. His time was spent in quiet vigilance, managing peace through foresight and precision.

However, peace was never absolute.

One day, while taking his customary walk through the royal garden aboard the Luofu, he sensed something... unusual. A faint, almost imperceptible presence—a flutter of movement that didn’t belong to any known creature. It piqued his interest, though his expression remained neutral, a quiet curiosity lurking beneath his composed facade.

It wasn't long before he discovered the source of the disturbance: a small figure darting between the blooming flowers. A tiny creature, no bigger than a hand, with delicate wings shimmering in the moonlight. Her wings glowed faintly as she tried to remain hidden among the petals.

Jing Yuan paused, observing her from a distance. He had seen many strange things in his long years, but this was new. The creature was obviously not of any known species within the Xianzhou Alliance—at least, not one he'd ever encountered.

As if sensing his gaze, the fairy froze, her wings vibrating as she turned to face him. Her eyes locked with his sharp gaze, and for a moment, there was a palpable silence between them, the air thick with unspoken understanding.

“You are… lost, little one?” Jing Yuan's voice, smooth as silk, cut through the stillness.

The fairy, though small, stood her ground. “I… I didn’t mean to intrude,” she replied, her voice soft yet tinged with a quiet sadness. “My race is no more. I... I was born to a dying world, and when I had the chance, I fled. This ship... it passed by my planet, and I… I took a chance.”

Jing Yuan's gaze softened, a flicker of empathy in his eyes. “You are far from home. And yet, here you are, trying to find a place where none exists.”

The fairy nodded, unsure of how to proceed. "I don't know where else to go. I don’t even know where I am."

“Xianzhou Luofu,” Jing Yuan explained gently. “A place for the living and the lost.”

For the next few days, they spent time together, him guiding her through the intricacies of the Luofu while she marveled at the new world. Despite her small size, she seemed to have an insatiable curiosity, exploring everything from the ornate architecture to the vast skies above. Jing Yuan found himself drawn to her quiet resilience. There was an ethereal grace to her—an aura of sadness, yet also one of hope, as if she sought to rebuild what had been lost.

It was on the fourth day that the first magical change occurred.

As Jing Yuan watched the fairy with a rare smile, she suddenly shimmered, her wings glowing brighter than ever before. The light expanded, and in an instant, the small figure before him grew, her form shifting until she stood at the height of a normal human. The fairy stumbled a bit at the change, adjusting to her newfound size, while Jing Yuan simply observed with a mixture of awe and curiosity.

"Are you... alright?" he asked, though his voice was laced with concern.

"I... I think so," she replied, testing her newfound height, stretching her arms out. "This is... so strange. I can feel everything so much clearer. The ground feels different under my feet. The air... it’s more expansive." Her voice was filled with wonder, but also confusion. "How is this even possible?"

Jing Yuan stepped closer, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "I suspect it has something to do with the magic of the stars. It is rare for such transformations to occur, but not impossible. We will need to take this slowly, however."

The fairy nodded, her face a mix of awe and unease. "But... what do I do now?"

Jing Yuan gave a small, reassuring smile. "Now, you learn how to live in this form."

And so, they spent days together as she adjusted to her new life. Jing Yuan was patient, offering guidance as she navigated this new world. He took her to quiet corners of the Luofu, showing her how to blend in with the other inhabitants without drawing too much attention. Though her heart was still heavy with the weight of her past, the new world she now inhabited seemed to offer her a glimpse of possibility.

She found herself growing fond of the gentle commander. There was an ease about him that made her feel safe. His calm, calculating demeanor was a balm to the uncertainty she carried in her heart. He never judged her for her past; rather, he listened, offering advice without pressure.

And as the days passed, she noticed something in his eyes—a warmth, a subtle affection that had begun to grow between them. Though he rarely showed it, the fairy could feel it. He was not just the strategic leader of the Cloud Knights; he was a man who, despite his wisdom and his years, had never lost the ability to care deeply for others.

Yet, Jing Yuan’s feelings were more complicated than they seemed. He had lived for centuries, seen countless faces come and go, but the fairy was different. She was a symbol of lost innocence, of something pure that had somehow survived the ravages of time. As she adjusted to her new form, Jing Yuan found himself yearning to protect that fragile hope she carried within her—a hope he hadn’t realized he still possessed until she arrived.

"You've changed." he said one evening as they sat atop the Luofu’s highest tower, watching the stars. The wind carried a soft hum through the air, and the fairy’s wings fluttered gently in the breeze.

"How so?" she asked, looking at him with a mixture of curiosity and uncertainty.

"You've become... more than just a wisp of light in the darkness," he replied, his voice soft. "You’ve become a part of this place, and in doing so, a part of me."

The fairy looked at him, her heart fluttering, and for the first time in ages, she felt like she was home. She had found a friend, and perhaps, something more.

The path ahead was uncertain, but for now, they walked it together, side by side.

And for Jing Yuan, though time had long since stripped him of the ability to feel the simple joys of life, this fairy—this once tiny, fragile creature—had brought a spark of warmth back into his world.

[mischiefmaker615]

Hii, i absolutely love your work!!

I was wondering if for your song one shots if you're still doing them, if I could maybe request Jackie and Wilson by Hozier. I can just imagine a very sweet Loki being absolutely infatuated with reader and wanting to start thinking about having kids and it's all just very fluffy and sweet. I understand that you probably get loads of asks and if you're too busy don't worry about it.

Love your work!! xx

Summary/Inspiration: Jackie And Wilson by Hozier

Rating: PG13

Note: never to busy love :D always taking requests as long as my brain says it's possible LOL more Musical Mischief one shots here

Kitchen Care

It has been quite a long time since Loki’s had a skip in his step, a smile on his face and his usual ‘don’t bother me’ mood gone. Most fear has left those of the palace- still upholding their respectful places as they bowed and continued his bidding upon his request, but even they could tell that Loki was down right happier. Ever since..

She arrived.

She was a royal, sent from another realm very much like Asgard where she could live as an ambassador to be the bridge between each culture when messages needed to be sent. To everyone’s surprise, she was young, as young as the royal princes actually and by how peaceful the nine realms have been, she was very rarely called to work upon matters; leaving her much free time within Asgard’s palace. Furthering everyone’s surprise, she and the prince of mischief took a liking to each other instantly and have grown with a secret intended courtship throughout the years.

She was what distracted Loki from his royal duties, the one being that could calm him down and the very person he looked forward to see every waking day. They almost acted like children, his mischief being inspired by her laughter and swayed farther away from its usual chaos- to everyone’s relief. A simple prank was much preferred that utter chaos to everyone’s schedules.

Loki’s fingers would tap at his writing desk, almost edging off his seat as his instructor took his blood time wrapping things up before he would seek out Y/N. most of the time their secret meetings would be in the library, where they would share and compare while they shared the same seat, Loki very much preferring her to take his lap than requiring him to scoot over.

Upon finding her in the gardens, he would sneak up behind her and give her ass a playful smack before he would run ahead with her yelping behind him. it would then follow by her running after him, scoldings turning into laughter as he would run to Asgard’s mazes in which he would hide before surprising her once more with his arms around her waist.

Although they weren’t openly romantic per say in front of others, thinking they were doing a well good job keeping their courtship a secret, everyone could tell they were in love. How his stares would always linger whenever there was a court meeting or she would merely pass by. She was always at his arm whenever festivities would occur- almost every night where, of course, she was the only one he would dance with.

With Thor around, It was the only time he would get defensive, jealous, back to his old self as his mood would harden and he would insert himself between them protectively before he would have to lead her away.

The center of his happiness. Today, he stayed quiet as he crept into the palace kitchen and a grin tugged at his lips to find her there.

Although she was shooed and advised against it, Y/N would always sneak and help the servants out whenever she could. Many, even the maids would tell her there was no need but she would insist and take great pleasure in conversing and lessening the load upon them throughout the day. Today it would seem she was helping out with baking, her dress and cheeks lightly covered in flour while her hands worked at kneading the dough.

Loki’s eyes softened as he watched her, completely mesmerized as he leaned himself against the doorframe undetected before the mischievous glint shined in his eyes. It was to good of a chance to pass up. With a light flick of magic in his eyes, he transformed his appearance into a young maiden, looking like the female version of himself but with a servant’s dress and a bit of wrinkles to the fabric.

Trotting in, he smiled happily as he began washing his hands just behind her before he joined her side, taking the dough from her delicate hands, into his dainty ones.

‘’a royal such as yourself shouldn’t stoop low as to do our duties, allow me my lady,’’ Loki said, his voice feminine as he continued to roll the dough in his hands while she looked at him with a raise of the brow.

‘’do not think of yourself low my friend, everything that you all do it quite important to the palace and appreciate should be better shown from us.’’ Y/N shook her head and added more flour to the wooden board before Loki began rolling it out.

‘’and we are quite grateful in the opportunity to serve you, but you should let us take over,’’ Loki nodded over his shoulder to the other servants busy working behind them. ‘’there is more than enough hands to speed things up-‘’

‘’more hands make fast work, I would hope that would lead you all to your enjoyment pauses within your day faster’’ she smiled and started moving some of the seasonings a bit closer, holding some of the bottles up to try to identify them better before she separated some on the counters.

‘’I would just hate to see a princess like you to get herself dirty..’’ Loki tsked and began flattening some of the dough on the board.

‘’I could always wash up- though I am not a princess-‘’ she shook her head.

‘’you are not betrothed?’’ Loki raised a brow, glancing at her as he worked.

‘’what has your way of thinking such things?’’ she questioned, her movements slowing as she turned her back on her to retrieve a tray from the shelves beside the counter.

‘’pardon my lady.. it’s just you spent quite a large amount of time with the younger prince of Asgard.. one could only assume such things and it’s clear on how he feels towards you..’’ Loki said with a bit of shyness as he spoke, the humor in his heart a bit difficult not to show as he kept his eyes down.

‘’how he feelings?’’ Y/N pressed, coming slowly back to set a tray beside him before going through the drawers for varies shapes of dough cutters- decorative ones she’s managed to fetch from Midgard during their holiday seasons.

‘’he stares quite a lot, he rushes through things so he could keep up with your whereabouts..’’ he then lowered his voice, putting on secretive and gossip look as he grinned. ‘’I even heard he looks forward to possible heirs that might arise-‘’

Y/N cheeks reddened as she quickly turned, going to the counter across from Loki to pick up another bowl of fresh dough that needed to be rolled as well. ‘’no we’ve never- I mean.. you shouldn’t listen to idle gossip from those unless it’s coming from the individual themselves.. we are in love and will do things in a proper manner we see fit..’’

‘’ah, so you are a traditionalist?’’ Loki couldn’t help but grin and upon hearing no response, raised a brow of her whereabouts- fearing he might have teased a bit to much. As soon as he turned around to face her, a dollop of fresh, moist dough hit him square in the face, splattering on most of his features as he stumbled back and a flash of light made him drop his disguise by his distracted mind set.

‘’I was wondering how long you were going to keep that up Loki but was surprised you bothered bringing up such topics even you blush when I try’’ Y/N laughed and watched him wipe his face with an open calm, a sly look on his features as he stared her down.

‘’I enjoy putting you to the test darling, you detected me faster than most times. I was quite tempted to see if you were open to interacting with the opposite sex while I was at it’’ he winked and ducked when another glob of dough was thrown towards his head, missing him.

‘’why bother if you could shift into either anyway?’’ she laughed, embarrassment in her voice as she looked up from scooping up more, only to have a glob land at her chest, squeaking as it fell into her cleavage and Loki smirked as he gave his finger a small taste from the remnants of his throw.

‘’oh dear, allow me to retrieve it for you darling,’’ he smirked as he prowled forward, causing her to practically squeal and move herself to the other side of the table.

By now the rest of the servants have hidden their grins, quickly disappearing momentarily from the room as soon as they discovered the royal prince had entered and figured it best they weren’t in his way. Loki quickly made a move, chasing her around the table as they laughed and ducked as more dough was thrown, some missing and some landing and soon had both their faces and chest covered in flour and dough. Finally Loki gave up the chase and merely teleported himself in front of her, causing her to run into open arms before he engulfed her, squishing the dough more into herself as she pressed against his chest with a giggle.

When they both recovered from laugher, Loki’s smile hesitated and he leaned back a little so he could look into her eyes. ‘’so you were thinking about it at least?..’’

Y/N raised a brow at his question, resting her hands against his chest as she felt his arms rest around her waist. ‘’about what my prince?’’

A smiled gently at his title, knowing she was only teasing since he’s given her permission to call him by name years ago, but diminished when he clarified with a clear of his throat. ‘’you know.. baring children? Some day..’’

Her cheeks reddened with shyness at the topic, seeing how he was serious and nodded her head a little as she pressed her forward to his chest, hiding her eyes. ‘’I have- some day of course.. although we are still within our courtship where we are yet to come out publicly.. I wouldn’t wish to bring heirs unless it was with you.. I love you Loki..’’ she whispered, bringing her eyes back up to him with a loving smile where his heart fluttered.

Those words.. those sweet words he loved to hear as if it were the first time hearing them every time she said it.. it tightened his hold on her, bringing her close so he could brush his lips against hers. Her fingers gently tangled in his hair, feeling his head tilt to lean into her touch as he pressed more into her mouth. Knowing this moment will only make things.. strain a bit more, he made himself pull back and catch his breath as he smiled.

‘’shall we get cleaned up darling? It would save water usage if we both go together..’’ he winked and she laughed.

‘’as if the water usage problem would be yours.’’ She paused and glanced around ‘’we should clean up the mess first for them-‘’

Loki chuckled at her concern for the servant’s work, having a softened heart himself ever since she practically taught him to care and he rose a hand. ‘’you’ve always worn your heart of your sleeve darling.. allow me,’’ and with a flick of his wrist, the room was clean and back to normal.

‘’I appreciate it my prince, especially since apparently we’ll be one servant short now’’ she teased and he laughed.

‘’at least we won’t be short a princess..’’

Tag List: @foxherder  @asgards-princess-of-mischief @fire-in-her-veinz

[kiki-smith21]

An Invitation to Sanctuary

Wednesday Addams x Autistic Fem Reader

A/N: This is my first fanfic, and any feedback would be appreciated. Let me know if you want a part 5. (I am actually autistic, so this is mostly based off the symptoms I show, but if you have any typical symptoms of autism you wish for me to add to the story later let me know and I'll try my best. Please be respectful to all, and remember to drink water and look after yourself, cuties❤️)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 5

Summary: In an attempt to help Wednesday escape the discomforts of her dorm, the reader offers her space to Wednesday.

The bond between you and Wednesday had strengthened with each passing day. What began as shared moments in the library had blossomed into a deep, unspoken connection. You found comfort in her presence, and she seemed to find solace in yours. The quiet evenings spent together had become a cherished routine.

One evening, after another fulfilling session of working on a puzzle and discussing a particularly intriguing book, you noticed a rare hint of frustration on Wednesday's face. It was subtle, but it was there—an unusual crack in her usual facade of calm.

"You seem troubled," you said softly, glancing up from the puzzle pieces scattered on the table.

Wednesday sighed, closing her book with a soft thud. "Enid is hosting a sleepover in our dorm tonight. It’s... noisy. Not exactly conducive to the tranquility I prefer."

You knew Enid's sleepovers were often lively affairs, a stark contrast to Wednesday's quiet nature. The idea of her enduring that chaos while you enjoyed your peaceful library sessions seemed unjust.

A thought occurred to you, and with a sudden burst of courage, you spoke up. "If you need a quiet place to escape the noise, you’re welcome to come to my dorm. It’s much quieter, and I have an extra bed."

Wednesday’s dark eyes met yours, a mixture of surprise and curiosity evident in her gaze. "Your dorm?"

"Yes," you said, nodding. "It’s one of the few single rooms on campus. It was meant to be a double or even a triple, so there are two spare beds. It’s spacious and quiet—perfect for escaping the noise."

There was a brief pause, as if Wednesday was considering the offer, weighing the potential benefits. Finally, she nodded, a faint smile touching her lips. "I appreciate the offer. It seems preferable to enduring the cacophony of Enid’s gathering."

With a sense of relief, you packed up your things and together you walked to your dorm. The evening air was cool, and the quiet of the campus felt oddly comforting. When you arrived at your dorm, you unlocked the door and led Wednesday inside.

The room was large and airy, with a cozy feel that contrasted sharply with the busy, communal spaces of Nevermore. You gestured to the two spare beds, each neatly made and inviting.

"Feel free to make yourself comfortable," you said. "I’ll get some refreshments."

Wednesday nodded, her gaze moving around the room with a rare sense of appreciation. You quickly set up a tray with some tea and snacks, placing it on the small table between the beds.

When you returned, Wednesday was sitting on one of the beds, her posture relaxed. You sat down beside her, a comfortable silence settling over the room.

"This is... surprisingly pleasant," Wednesday admitted, taking a sip of the tea you’d prepared. "I hadn’t expected to find such comfort in a dorm room."

You smiled, feeling a warmth in your chest at her words. "I’m glad you think so. I figured it would be a nice escape from the usual chaos."

As the evening wore on, you both settled into a more relaxed atmosphere. You continued to chat softly about various topics, occasionally glancing at the books and puzzles you had brought along. The conversation flowed easily, punctuated by comfortable pauses that spoke of a deepening trust and understanding.

Eventually, you both decided to turn in for the night. As you prepared to go to bed, Wednesday’s hand brushed against yours, a gentle touch that sent a reassuring warmth through you.

"Thank you," she said quietly. "This has been a welcome reprieve."

You met her gaze, feeling a profound connection in the simplicity of the moment. "Anytime. I’m glad I could offer a little peace."

With the lights dimmed and the room enveloped in a peaceful quiet, you both settled into your respective beds. The comfort of having Wednesday there, away from the noise and chaos, added a new layer of tranquility to your evening.

The shared experience of a quiet night, devoid of the usual disturbances, further cemented the bond between you. It was a small gesture, but one that carried significant meaning—a testament to the growing trust and affection that had developed between you both.

And so, in the calm of the night, with the gentle hum of the campus at rest, the sanctuary of your dorm became a place of shared peace and unspoken understanding. It was a reflection of the comfort and support that had become central to your growing relationship with Wednesday.

[lets-try-some-writing]

Successors

Bumblebee knew he was different from the cycle he first began to comprehend the world around him. Where others of his age would play, he observed in silence. Where they screamed, Bumblebee merely allowed a hint of discomfort to emanate in his posture and his Sire would soon come to him. Too quiet, too composed, too quick to learn. But Bumblebee never doubted, nor did he question his Sire.

The others looked at him in concern, but Bumblebee saw no reason to worry about his situation. Why should he? They simply did not understand.

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙

Bumblebee's earliest memory was one of a place of darkness and gloom, with many blue optics gazing down on him. He recalled arms and raptorial legs running over him, tending to him from where he resided in a cradle of primordial developmental fluid. It was comforting, peaceful even. The form that loomed above him was safety, it was love, and it was protection. Often he heard songs that resonated with his very core, usually accompanied by those many optics shining through the casing that contained him. That time of his life was hazy and distant, but he never forgot the blue of the optics that observed him.

He recalled his chamber of warmth being cut open and the chill of the cavernous space assaulting him. His first cries echoed in the damp air before he was soothed by servos that were familiar and yet so different from the appendages he was used to touching his place of gestation. He could not see, he could not hear, however he could feel the steady thrum of the powerful being that held him as he was taken from the gloom and to where the wind blew harshly and the air grew dry.

Distant memories, echoes of something that felt right.

The one who held him became a constant in Bumblebee's existence. He was small, weak, and underdeveloped. Instinctually he knew this as his tender cradled him and marched through what he could only assume was dead land. There was no smell of life, no scent of anything moving or mechanical. The sting of what he would come to know as plasma miasma was everywhere, but aside from that, it was simply him and his strangely familiar caretaker. This lasted for a time, but his memories were not very clear regarding all that occurred during that time. All he could say for certain was that when his optics finally achieved full functionality, he knew immediately that his situation was precarious at best.

He was brought to the Autobots in the arms of the one and only Optimus Prime, and for that reason, Bumblebee was quick to learn his place. Instincts told him to act, to do... something violent. But Optimus always knew, and when Bumblebee reached to activate coding hidden within his subsystems on instinct, the Prime would stare down at him with frigid optics, calculating and demanding. Very rarely did he need to say a word, but when Bumblebee was handed off to other mecha to be tended to for a time, Optimus always spoke to him first. Over and over the mantra was repeated whenever he was given to Ratchet for examination or to Jazz to be watched over during Optimus's absence.

"Restrain yourself and blend in. Remain in control and maintain this form. Do not succumb to the hunger and do not question. We must not be discovered so soon."

Bumblebee knew the optics that gazed down upon him, he knew the voice that spoke with the same deep hum that comforted him. Optimus was his Sire, and he would obey. He did not know why nor did he feel the need to seek answers. Even as a sparkling, he could follow the orders of his maker. The hunger that burned within him was pushed down and the urge to escape what was quickly feeling like a too-small shell was overcome. He had his orders, and he refused to disobey. Deep in his spark, he knew death would await him if he failed, and another part of him was quick to come to the conclusion that his Sire could easily to replace him. There was no need for communication for that truth to be revealed. Whatever he and his Sire were, they both were well aware of the unspoken rules.

"Obey or perish."

That was their shared command. Bumblebee obeyed his Sire, and Optimus in turn followed orders that he did not see fit to reveal. Whatever the case, it was none of Bumblebee's concern. When he was with Ratchet, he kept still and quiet, watching and adjusting his behavior to match what he saw around him. His coding and mental state changed, no longer controlled by instinct and instead by the growing persona that was taking root in his processors. From Jazz he learned to be energetic and hopeful, from Ratchet he learned seriousness and duty, from Ironhide he gained strength, from Preceptor knowledge, from Ultra Magnus strategic training... the list went on. Vorns passed by and he played his part. Bumblebee did not question, nor did the Autobots around him comment on his eerie levels of maturity at such a young age. There was a war to be won and no room to consider.

With time, Bumblebee learned to think as those around him did, he acted liked them, spoke like them, and carried himself as any other youngling. And yet despite parading himself as if he were a completely normal Cybertronian, there was forever the nagging sense deep within him that he was something other. The death around him did not bother him. While he did grow angry over the lost lives, the carnage itself had no influence over his mind. Combat came to him naturally, and often he found himself inclined to his denta and claw over blade and blaster. He did not fully understand it when the request to activate dormant coding periodically appeared on his HUD, but whenever he so much as looked at is a klik too long, his Sire almost always appeared by his side in short succession.

"Ignore it. The time has not yet come. Continue to live as you have, you will understand when you are required to."

He obeyed.

There were only a few times where he failed to follow the orders given, and he was always put back in his place. The instincts he was carefully told to ignore occasionally made itself known. Sometimes his jaw ached to unhinge, to widen and expand when he gazed upon the dying calling out for aid. Optimus never failed to cuff him in those instances or even harshly pull on his door wings to return him to reality. Occasionally his plating itched and he had the overwhelming urge to shift, to unfold and escape the confines of that which held him. It was worst on the battlefield when the rush of conflict flooded his processors with sheer euphoria. In such situations, Optimus was always there and ready to beat him into the ground should he fail to follow the order to restrain himself. While rare, there were even times when Bumblebee found himself starting to hoard energon, consuming more than he needed to and scouting out potential safe havens. He did not understand why he did so, but Optimus hauling him deep into the underground portion of the base and locking him up for a few cycles got him out of his strange moods quite quickly.

"There cannot be any more of us right now. Too many will draw attention. There can only be two. A hierarch and an heir."

After such treatment, Ratchet tended to tend to him and gently ask if Bumblebee was safe, if he required removal from Optimus's care. Bumblebee always said no. Ratchet did not understand, he never would. He was a good mech, a kind individual with a gentle spark, and thus he could not even come close to comprehending the unspoken connection Bumblebee had to his Sire. Jazz asked sometimes too, usually when he brought Bumblebee additional energon after his lockups. Ironhide slipped him a map with marked routes to a transport leaving Cybertron for a neutral world a handful of times. Even Ultra Magnus pulled him aside and took extra care to send Bumblebee off on missions that kept him from his Sire for extended periods of time.

They thought they were helping. Bumblebee could see why. Compared to the records of regular sparklings that he read and watched, the treatment Optimus subjected him to was straight up abuse. But of course, that was simply because there was a lack of understanding. It was the way of whatever it was Bumblebee and his Sire were. Their kind, whatever they happened to be, were a race that needed no words, needed no excess emotion. They knew their duty, and thus when Optimus struck him down and dragged him back into place, Bumblebee understood and held no ill will toward his maker. He could see Optimus faced similar treatment from whoever his maker was as well.

"Why are you hurting?"

"I am not externally injured young one."

"No, but inside you ache. I can see it, how you contort yourself to match this image of Cybertronian perfection."

"It is required."

"Why?"

"It is for the same reason you too must keep that shell little one. Our time has not yet come... and it may never arrive."

"What do you mean?"

"It is not your place to understand, such is my duty. I am the first, you are the second. I molded you to perform better than me, to overcome the trials that leave me in agony with minimal discomfort instead."

"You suffer in your frame."

"Yes, but I was the first. I was the test. You are better than I am, perfected and altered as much as I could manage to walk among this people without fear... that is so long as you keep yourself in control."

"Then... when will our time come?"

"When all save for us are dead... or when the time is right to spread unimpeded. These fragile creations are so advanced they have forgotten the core truth, the unity of one shared goal. When this war ends in their extinction or their restoration, we shall rise from their ashes or follow in their shadows."

Bumblebee did not understand, but as his Sire said, it was not his place to. Optimus was a comfort, one that Bumblebee relied on greatly. The Prime was his maker, that much he knew. Thus he dared not question when Optimus spoke to him in the humming song that he knew from his development. Ratchet, Jazz, and the others did not see what Bumblebee saw, nor did they ever witness the affection Optimus gave him in a positive light. They did not see the scratches Optimus left on his armor as a mark of affirmation of a job well done, but instead viewed it as abuse. They did not see how Optimus's constant reminders and glares were a kind reminder of their shared orders to remain hidden. Instead they saw only malice where Bumblebee knew there to be stern but true love. They could not witness the subsonic song that Optimus sang and Bumblebee returned at all times. How could they with their unaugmented audials?

Optimus cared for him, although he never said so aloud. Not in the traditional Cybertronian manner at any rate. The one time Bumblebee asked if his Sire did love him earned him a response that those who might have been listening were sure to see as dark.

"Sire... do you love me?"

"Into you I put vorns of my effort, attention, and care. Millennia of accumulated protomatter that I molded with my own limbs with utmost devotion. I spend every waking moment considering and contemplating, thinking of your future. I give my spark to your development and my mind to your rearing. No longer could I dare to create another. You are my one and only heir."

That was all he needed to know for certain. His mind recognized the emotional undertone and his instincts accepted the offered truths. Nothing else mattered. Optimus loved him, and despite the efforts of the ignorant Autobots and their plans to keep him away from his Sire, they always reconnected soon enough. Usually Bumblebee tried not to worry over the reactions of the Autobots to his and his Sire's interactions, but there were times when it was hard. More than once he heard Ratchet cursing Optimus out, yelling about him being a horrible Sire. Several times he noted Jazz working Optimus into a corner and calling him a monster. And while only once, there was a time where even Preceptor pulled his sniper rifle on the Prime, threatening to make him "keel over from and unfortunate accident in the labs" should he fail to improve.

They did not understand. But Optimus was always there to reassure Bumblebee and comfort him after such things. They would not be separated. Optimus was always in control, always so composed and possessed a far greater sense of duty. He never fought with his instincts, at least not that Bumblebee could see. The Prime blended in all but perfectly socially, befriending all and performing as a perfect leader. The only ones who were on his case were those who fought in Bumblebee's "defense". However even they remained amicable to toward him.

The singular time Bumblebee ever saw Optimus lose control was the cycle Megatron tore out his vocalizer. There was no time for his instincts to react or for him to break from his shell, but as he fell to the ground and bathed in his own energon, he saw his Sire enraged for the first time in his life.

He leapt through the air, limbs too long to be proper and his face all but split in half to reveal a maw of fangs and mandibles. Bladed limbs extended from his shoulders and his legs were crooked and out of place as he charged with a scream to make even the dead quake. Wrath and fury never before seen had Optimus charging with wild abandon, his shell transforming away more with ever moment and terrifying all those in the vicinity. All Bumblebee could do as Megatron fled and Optimus came to his side was silently convey the order they were both bound to.

"Blend in, do not be seen. Our time has not yet come."

Bumblebee was taken to the medical ward where he was stabilized. He felt true grief at his lost vocalizer, but it was partially drowned out by the relief that came from seeing his Sire back within his shell, even if he was expressing emotions far more openly than usual. As the Prime tended to him in a more Cybertronian manner during his recovery, Bumblebee heard the stories. A monster of red and blue charging at Megatron, a spark eater or a ghoul, a creature of legend to be eliminated on sight.

As soon as he was able, Bumblebee was quick to silence any witnesses who actually believed that what they saw was Optimus Prime. There could be no one to reveal them. They had their orders. It was not their time. Accidents happened, and while it brought him no joy, cleaning up a few loose ends was better in the long run. The Autobots needed their Prime, and Bumblebee refused to see his Sire exposed for trying to protect him.

"Obey or perish."

Such was their reality, even as they headed for Earth.