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suugarbabe · 1 year ago

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sunshine and ducks | m.r x reader

prompt: was wondering if it’s possible for me to request a Slytherin reader who doesn’t typically go out with guys at hogwarts since she’s got high standards and Mattheo gets dared to try to get a date out of her, leading to them liking each other but maybe there’s like some twist where they both have been writing back and forth in an anonymous journal they found and they eventually plan to meet and they’re shocked it’s them or something?

an: I took a little artistic liberty, so its basically the prompt but with my own twist

warnings: fluff, mention of parental death

Word count: 4.6k

Mattheo shook his head, “There’s no way.” Theo grinned at his friend, “No way because you know you could never do it, could never get the job done.” Mattheo set his fork down, glaring across the table, “That’s not what I mean.”

“What’s not what you mean?” Blaise and Enzo joined the two at the Slytherin table, packing food onto their plates before morning classes. “Theodore, here, dared me to ask y/n out on a date.”

Enzo snorted, “Y/n? Like Y/n Y/l/n? Good bloody luck with that, mate.”

“Thank you,” Mattheo turned back to Theo, a smirk on his face, “Y/n doesn’t date. I don’t even think I’ve seen her go out with anyone in the entire seven years we’ve been here.”

Blaise nodded in agreement, “Yeah, her standards are way too high, especially for you lot.” Theo and Enzo looked like they’d been wounded, but Mattheo looked intrigued, “What do you mean ‘especially for you lot’, I’m sure I’m exactly what y/n’s type would be.”

Theo perked up, “So are you accepting the dare?” He held his hand out, ready to shake it, quickly letting out a hiss as Mattheo smacked it away. “I’ll think about it,” Mattheo gave his answer for the moment, reaching into his pocket and pulling out what looked like folded parchment.

Pansy snatched the parchment from his grasp as she sat next to him, Draco on her other side. “Still playing with this, Matty?” Pansy went to open it before Mattheo grabbed it back, “Leave me alone, Pansy. It’s none of your business.” She sighed, rolling her eyes and looking to Draco, “Will you please tell your cousin that it’s a little pathetic to write back and forth to a mystery girl on enchanted parchment like we’re third years?”

Draco shrugged his shoulders, mouth full of sausage as he spoke, “Don’t ‘ive a fuck who ‘e ‘alks to, Pans.” Pansy pouted, crossing her arms. Theo, however, took this information and ran with it, “You’re still talking to mystery woman? I thought you gave that up weeks ago. Is that why you’re not taking my bet? You’re waiting on parchment Patty to confess her love to yo-” Theo was cut off by the sausage that was thrown at his face by Mattheo.

Mattheo got up front the bench, grabbing his bag and the parchment, “I’ll see you guys in class.”

His first class of the day was ancient runes, a peaceful moment in the morning where none of his friends were. Much to everyone’s surprise he usually got there early, just to have some time to himself. He also looked at it as a good excuse to be late to nearly all of his other classes, since he spent extra time in his first.

When he got to his table, he pulled out the parchment, a grin spreading across his face when he noticed writing was already on it. He found the parchment in the library about two months ago. It was left on a table that he and a girl he convinced to tutor him sat. At first it just appeared like free parchment, until he opened it one morning seeing your scrawl across the page asking if anyone had found it yet.

There had been an agreement made between the two of you to not reveal your name or any major identifiers. Mattheo was actually thankful to have someone to talk to that didn’t know who he was. As confident as he displays, it was nice to be able to talk to someone without fear of being judged simply because of who his father was.

It had become customary to write each other in the morning, doing a little check in. Over the last two months you two had built a connection, entrusting each other with information you hadn’t even told your friends.

Any advice on how to get through Divination at 830am?

Mattheo laughed to himself, you were a saint for suffering through Trelawny’s ramblings so early.

Make something up, say you saw a werewolf in your crystal ball, see what she says he wrote back.

He watched as your response appeared in front of him, Good thinking, Duck. I’ll just tell the crazy woman I see a predator in my future, that’ll get her off my back

He could tell she was being sarcastic You’re right, Sunshine, best keep quiet and just survive the morning

Professor Babbling walked in, causing Mattheo to stash the parchment in his bag again. He sat through class, surprisingly distracted. His thoughts drifted back to breakfast this morning and Theo’s dare. It couldn’t possibly be that hard to get you to go on a date with him, sure you seemed stingy with the guys, but Mattheo couldn’t blame you.

The pickings were slim, but he knew he was attractive. If he were going to get you to go on a date with him, he had to take a different approach than normal. He couldn’t do lingering looks and winks across the room like he usually did with other girls. He had to be straightforward.

That’s why when lunch came around Mattheo told his friends he would talk to them later and found you sitting at the end of the table, like always. You had your mix of friends, but it was known you often ate meals alone.

Some people thought it was because you were stuck up, the rumors about you having high standards had been swirling around since you denied golden boy Potter in year four. He had asked you to the Yule Ball, being a Triwizard Champion people were shocked you denied him. You had no interest in being paraded around like arm candy, especially by a Gryffindor.

When Mattheo sat down across from you, you didn’t even look up from your meal. You at first assumed some first year was scared or nervous from a different part of the table and came to sat by a singular person, being in Slytherin could be intimidating. When Mattheo cleared his throat you finally looked up from your plate.

You stared at him, eyes piercing directly into his, and suddenly he felt himself get nervous. You stared at each other for a moment before you spoke, “Can I help you with something Mattheo?”

That caught him off guard, “You, erm, know my name?” You laughed lightly at this, “You, sir, are Mattheo Riddle. Heir to the Dark Lord’s throne.” Your tone was teasing, “Everyone knows you.”

“Well I know you, too, Y/n Y/l/n.” You raised your eyebrows at this, “Do you now? What exactly do you think you know besides my name?”

Mattheo was nervous again, “I uh, I know you like to eat alone.”

“And yet here you sit.”

Mattheo let out a low chuckle, “Right, erm, I was, uh, I’ve been watching you.” You snorted, “That’s not creepy at all.”

“No! I mean, I’ve, erm, seen you around. I mean, we’ve gone to school together for seven years. We’re in the same house, it’s hard not to notice you.” Mattheo was grinning now. He was actually kind of cute, nervous like this, “Do you know anything about me that a first year couldn’t figure out?”

Mattheo smirked now, “I would love to get to know more about you, if you’d let me.” You leaned back now, lacing your fingers in front of you, “And why should I do that, sir?”

“Got a habit of calling me sir, there something you’d care to share with me?” Mattheo’s lips tugged at the corners. He was teasing you, but he had no idea who he was playing with. You leaned in on your elbows. Mattheo, intrigued, mirrored your position. There was now mere inches between your faces.

Mattheo had his classic smirk, the one he wore nearly all day, but it faltered when he saw a similar smirk appear on yours. You sat up now, leaning in to whisper in his ear, “You’ll never be lucky enough to see what a good girl I can be.”

With that you left the table, leaving Mattheo with his mouth slightly agape. He watched as you left the great hall, hips swaying a little extra as you walked away.

A hand was clasp on Mattheo’s shoulder, “Well, cousin, that didn’t look like someone who said yes to a date.”

Theo sat down next to him, “Malfoy’s right. You fuck up the dare already, Riddle?” Mattheo shook his head, “I’m just getting started.”

You stared at the parchment in front of you, unsure of how to respond.

Are you going to the Slytherin party tonight, Sunshine?

You weren’t really one for parties, you’ve been to a couple in your time at Hogwarts but it usually just led to unwanted advances from boys you had no intention of giving the time of day to.

You scribbled back your answer, I’m not sure, parties usually aren’t my scene.

“Oh come on, y/n, go to one party,” your friend Darcy was leaning over your shoulder. You folded the parchment quickly, “Salazar's sake, Darcy, can you let me just have one thing.”

Darcy shrugged her shoulders, “You’ve been chatting with this guy for months, y/n/n. Isn’t it time you met him in person? Getting kind of pathetic pining after him like this when you don’t even know what he looks like.”

You tugged on your bottom lip with your teeth, “I mean, that’s the problem right? He seems so perfect right now but he could be a total tosser in person. I don’t know if I’m ready to take off the rose colored glasses.”

“Then tell him to find you then.”

You looked up at her, “You’re brilliant, you know that?” You open the parchment again, writing ferociously before your pen pal can reply again.

I think it’s time we met, what do you say? If you can find me that is

You waited a moment before seeing his response

What do you mean if I can??

You smiled to yourself

You’ve talked to me for two months, Duckie. I’ll be at the party. If you know me as well as you think you do, you could find me

“Gonna tell me why you have that stupid grin on your face, cousin? Finally get y/n to agree to that date?” Draco was leaning on his elbow, trying to get Mattheo’s attention.

“What? No, I’m going to do that at dinner.” Mattheo scribbled on the parchment in front of him.

Can’t wait to finally see you, sunshine

“Sunshine? Has Riddle gone soft on us now?” Draco was smirking, eyes on the parchment. Mattheo grabbed Draco by the collar, “One word. One word of this to anyone, cousin, and I’ll color your hair to match Weasley’s.”

Someone, Draco’s face became paler, “Okay, okay. Merlin.” He straightened. “You don’t even know what this bird looks like. She’s kind of interfering with your plan for y/n is she not?”

Mattheo shook his head, “I’ve got it handled, cousin. Don’t you worry.”

You set down your book, letting out a deep sigh as you now stared right at Mattheo sitting across from you, “Two meals in one day? Did I win the lottery or something?”

Mattheo laughed, “What? Can’t I just sit with a pretty girl at dinner?” You gave him an incredulous look and his shoulders slumped. He leaned towards you, elbows on the table and hands flailing on he spoke, “Listen, if I tell you the truth you promise you’re not gonna freak out?”

You nodded curtly, encouraging him to continue. “Okay, so this morning Theo may or may not have dared me to ask you out on a date, more so get you to go on an actual date.” You scoffed, “And why would he do that?”

Mattheo shrugged, “I may or may not have been staring at you, it’s fine, not a big deal.” You raised your eyebrows at this, but Mattheo only rolled his eyes, “Don’t act like you don’t know you’re hot, y/n, okay?”

You laughed, putting your hands up in defense, “So what, I just go on a date with you and you win? Why is that even a thing?”

Mattheo wore a look of disbelief, “You’re kidding right? You- Y/n, you never go out on dates.”

You pouted, crossing your arms, “I’ve dated!” Mattheo shook his head, “Name one boy from Hogwarts you’ve been on a date with.” You sat there a moment, gnawing on the inside of your cheek while you thought.

“Now think of how many boys you’ve denied a date from,” Mattheo was smirking now, you just glared at him.

“Okay, Riddle, fine. I’ll do it. But just one date.” You pointed your finger at him. Mattheo’s mouth opened and shut like a fish before he found the words, “A-are you serious?”

You nodded, “Now, tell me what it’ll be before I come to my senses and change my mind.”

“Tonight. There’s a party in the common room. Be my date to the party.”

You twisted your hands, bottom lip tucked between your teeth. Merlin, if you kept that up, Mattheo was going to lose his mind. “Tonight?” you repeated, looking nervous now.

“Something wrong with that? Just figured it’d be the easiest place for us to be seen together.” Mattheo was waiting for your response.

You let out a soft sigh, “I…I was supposed to meet someone at the party. No one knows about it, well, except you now. I just, no offense to you, I just don’t know if I want that to mess it up.”

Mattheo smiled, “It’s okay, I’m supposed to meet someone at the party, too. So we’ll just show up together, say hi to my friends so Theo can eat his words and then go our separate ways.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, “Perfect. Okay. So, how should I dress? I never really paid attention to the girls you hang around, since they’re basically a revolving door.”

Mattheo held his hands to his chest, “Ouch, you wound me, y/n.” You laughed together. “But, really, wear whatever you want, Sunshine.”

You froze at his words, “W-what did you say?” If you could see yourself you’re sure that all the color drained from your face. Did he really just call you that? It had to be a coincidence, right? It was a common pet name, wasn’t it? It doesn’t mean he’s who you think he might be.

“I said you can wear whatever you want,” his smile was genuine, no sign or any give that he may know or be someone other than what he presented in front of you. You nodded at him, “Right, erm, okay. Well, I’m gonna go now, go get ready I guess. I’ll…see you later?”

You started to stand and he grabbed your hand, kissing the back of it like a knight, “See you later, Sunshine.”

You pulled your hand back, maybe a little too quickly, holding your books to your chest and rushing out of the great hall. Your mind was racing, not able to untie the knot of thoughts that was forming in your brain. Mattheo could not be your secret parchment person. He simply could not. Sure, he was handsome. But he was a jerk. He was a manipulator, that’s what he did with women, manipulated them, swindled them, sweet talked them until he got to bring them up to his dorm. That was the Mattheo Riddle you heard about.

But he was nice to you all day today. But that could just be him being nice to get in your pants right? No, he agreed to leave you alone, said that he was meeting someone too. But what if who he was trying to meet was actually you?

Your head hurt. You groaned as you belly flopped onto your bed in your dorm.

“Y’alright, there, y/n/n?” Darcy was picking through her closet, presumably looking for something to wear to the party.

You mumbled, words muffled by your pillow. “Come again, dear?” Darcy was sat on your bed now. You turned your head to the side, not even bothering moving your hair from your eyes, “I think I know who my secret parchment man is.”

Darcy jumped up from her position, bouncing on her toes, “Brilliant, brilliant, that’s so wonderful, y/n/n!”

Her bouncing slowly came to a halt when she noticed you didn’t move from your position, “Why are you not happy? Oh no, is he ugly? How bad is it? Like Filch bad? Y/n/n, talk to me, don’t sulk all the way until the party.”

You groaned again, “The party. Merlin…I have to get ready for my bloody date.”

“You’re what?!”

You sat up, “It’s no big deal, Darce. I just…told Mattheo that I would accompany him to the party tonight.”

“Mattheo,” Darcy held her hands out in front of her, “Like…Riddle?”

“Do you know any other Mattheo?”

“Well what are you gonna wear? Oh my god, Mattheo?! Really? God, are you gonna snog him? I heard he was bloody amazing with his tongue,” Darcy was now throwing the slinkiest, tiniest dresses on your bed, continuing to rant about how much you should try and shag Mattheo by night’s end.

“You know I am trying to meet someone else at this party, you know that right?” You held up a dress before tossing it on the floor, “Absolutely not.”

“Okay well what about this one?” She held up a silky green number, corset style back and a deep v-cut in the front, cups like a bra for the bustier, “And you looked downright miserable at the possibility of who this person might be, might as well look hot with a hot person until you decide if it’s really him or not.”

You held up the dress she offered, flipping it back and forth before deciding to try it on, “I guess you’re right. I can’t really decide to have a bad time unless I know for sure that I’m right about who it is.”

You shimmied the dress over your hips, tugging a little at the hem, “S’not too short?” Darcy shook her head, “Absolutely not, now…let’s do your hair and makeup”

You rubbed your lips together after Darcy applied the gold and glittery lip gloss. You put on your old Doc Marten boots, in your mind you had to keep a little authenticity with your outfit and you thought it gave you a little ‘bad girl’ flair.

You did a twirl in the mirror. “Please tell me those aren’t the shoes you’re wearing,” Darcy had a displeased look on her face, both of you so focused on your outfit you didn’t notice the door opening.

“I think she looks breathtaking, honestly.” You both turn at the sound of Mattheo’s voice, your cheeks instantly aflame.

“We’ll I’m going down, I’ll see you two later?” Darcy shot you a wink and you waved her off before she left the room.

You turned back to Mattheo, “So really, how do I look?”

Mattheo walked toward you, tentatively placing his hands on your hips. You felt like your skin was burning where he touched. He twisted your hips, forcing you to spin around and give him a full view before you faced him again.

“I was being truthful earlier, you look incredible.”

You looked at the ground bashfully. Mattheo grabbed your chin, forcing your eyes to meet his, “Hey none of that now, Sunshine. Shall we go give ‘em hell at the party then find our real dates, yeah?”

Your cheeks burn further at the nickname. I think we’ve already found each other, you think to yourself, but nonetheless, you nod and allow him to guide you down the hall and to the party.

He’s respectful as he does so, keeping his hand on the small of your back. When you walk through the silencing charm barrier it feels like everyone’s eyes are on the two of you.

As you maneuvered through the crowd Mattheo’s hand gripped your waist, pulling you closer to him. You turned your face towards him, only for him to give you a wink before seeing his friends in front of you.

Theo’s eyes were nearly popping out of his skull, while Enzo basically choked on his drink.

“They always like this?” You ask no one in particular. One of Mattheo’s friends comes up to you, “Blaise, very nice to meet you, Y/n. And yes, those two are always like that.”

You shake his hand, smiling. You’re introduced formally to the rest of the group, though you know all their names by simply being in the same house.

Mattheo offers to get you a drink and then leaves you with his friends. Theo and Enzo each scoot over, making room for you to sit between them.

As you sit on the couch, Theo leans back, slinging his arms over the back and manspreading his legs. “So how’d he get you to do it?”

You turn your head to the dirty blonde boy, “How’d who get me to do what?”

Enzo leans over then, “How’d Riddle get you to go on a date with him? You never date anybody.”

You laugh a little, “You’d be surprised.”

Before you could explain much further, Mattheo returned, saving you and pulling you to sit with him on another couch. At this point a few other girls joined. You knew them from your house and classes, Daphne, Astoria and Pansy.

Theo suggested playing a game. Mattheo leaned down, breath fanning your ear as he offered you to leave, “You can go find your date now if you want.” You shook your head, “S’okay, I can stay for one game. Makes the date more believable, yeah?”

Mattheo smiled at you, a real soft and genuine smile. You could tell it was a thank you, so you both scooted your couch closer to the table for a game.

The game was adolescent, truth or dare. However if you refused to answer or do a dare you had to drink. The rules were simple enough and you were fine with participating. Blaise and Daphne snogged, Theo was dared to take a shot from Pansy’s belly button and Enzo had to admit he had a crush on Astoria second year.

When Enzo picked you for truth or dare, Mattheo gave him a warning look. You assumed this meant to go easy on you. “Erm, truth or dare, y/n?”

“Let’s go with truth.”

Enzo sat for a moment, tapping his finger on his chin, “If you were to date someone, like a proper boyfriend,” he paused to wiggle his eyebrows at Mattheo, “what kind of pet name would you give them? And why.”

You thought for a second. You could take a drink, no one could force you to answer. But it was also such an easy question, Enzo really did go easy on you. You could lie, say any pet name in the world. But you wanted to test your theory. See if what you speculated was really true.

You looked at Mattheo, who gave you a warm smile. Then you looked back around the circle. “I guess, erm, I would call them duck or…duckie.”

You could feel Mattheo stiffen next to you, but you couldn’t bear to look at him. “That’s kind of adorable,” Daphne cooed, “Why Duckie?”

You shifted a little, “Erm, because that’s what my mum called me dad, and they were so in love, like, proper love that you read about or see in movies.”

“Were? So they’re not in love anymore?” Draco asked.

“Cousin.” Mattheo scolded him, but you waved your hand, “S’okay. My mum died a few years ago. She was a brilliant witch, loved experimenting. Then one went awry.”

You felt yourself tear up a bit. You didn’t talk of your mum much. Mattheo rubbed your back, but your skin felt on fire. “Sorry I’m just gonna…take a moment.”

You got up to leave, heading toward your dorm before tears could fall, you didn’t want to embarrass yourself.

You could feel someone following you but you didn’t care, you just needed to get to your dorm, needed to let your emotions out because after everything that occurred today you felt like you were overflowing.

You burst through your door, someone catching it before you could slam it closed fully.

“Y/n, talk to me,” Mattheo’s voice was soft, but you kept your back to him. The tears were coming and you couldn’t let him see.

“Sunshine…” he pleaded. You turned slowly, eyes at his feet when you finally faced him. “That’s you right,” he took a cautious step forward, “You’re my Sunshine, aren’t you?”

He held his finger under your chin, tilting it up softly until your eyes met his. He cupped your cheek, thumb wiping away the tears that fell.

“You’re my duck,” you whispered.

“Is that a bad thing?” He spoke softly, as if he used his regular volume you’d shatter into pieces.

You shook your head, “S’not a bad thing. Little surprising. B’not bad.”

Mattheo laughed lightly, “Well I’m glad to hear that.”

“When did you know? Or when did you suspect?” Mattheo had his hands on your waist now.

“The first time you called me sunshine,” you smiled a little, “I thought maybe it was a mistake, or you called all girls that.”

“I don’t,” Mattheo replied quickly, “call all girls that. Before I said it to you I only ever wrote it down to…well I guess you.”

You both laughed a little at this, “Why do you think you said it to me? I mean, you didn’t know, did you? Or suspect it?”

Mattheo shook his head, “Dunno, after lunch and how you responded to me, it just came out. Guess maybe subconsciously I knew?” He laughed a little, “But I didn’t know for sure until the game, when you said you’d call your boyfriend Duckie.”

“Is that what you want?” You asked him, causing his head to tilt, “To be my boyfriend.”

Mattheo was smiling so wide his dimples popped out, you never noticed those before. However now you were going to make it your personal mission to make them pop every chance you got.

“Is that what you want, Sunshine?” Your cheeks heated at the nickname again, but you smiled at him through your shyness, “I think we’d be fools not to try, yeah?”

He cupped your cheek again, running a thumb along your bottom lip. He leaned in slowly, prepared to stop at any moment.

You lifted to your tiptoes, closing the gap for him and allowing your lips to melt together. He pulled you in by your waist as you wrapped your hands around his neck, deepening the kiss.

He kissed you hungrily, eager, intent on making you dizzy. He held nothing back, and neither did you. Your lips collided in a mix of gasps and groans, fingers clawing at each other until you finally separated, much to each other's dismay.

“That was…wow,” for the first time in his life Mattheo didn’t know what to say.

“I agree,” you laughed, still holding on to his shoulders, “did you…wanna go back to the party or..” you trailed off, eyeing your bed.

Mattheo followed your gaze, “You gonna show me what a good girl you can be, hmm?”

#mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle fluff #mattheo riddle fic #golden era #harry potter #theodore nott #draco malfoy #blaise zabini #lorenzo berkshire #enzo berkshire

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crypticcozycorner · 5 months ago

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Book of bill spoilers

One thing I noticed that I haven’t seen anyone else point out is a connection between Bill possessing Ford and Bill specifically giving Ford physical injuries to his hands

When I got to the page of photos from Bill’s “puppet show”, this particular image stood out to me:

All the other pictures we see have some level or cartoon silliness/un-realness to them. A silly tattoo, slapping a police officers belly, eating spiders, rolling around naked in the woods, etc. all of these for the most part are very cartoon logic and meant to more make Ford look silly/stupid. Hurt his ego (minus the spider thing but that’s still a very cartoon logic thing to happen). And then we have this picture of a genuine, painful torture method.

And then I remembered another injury that really stuck out to me:

This page in general is one of my favorite pages in the whole book. I love how it shows the dark, grim side of Bill and Fords relationship. Dark, bloody, and with less restrictions due to this book being aimed at an older audience. And again, this dark page is about Ford’s hand being injured.

These moments both really stuck out to me with how real the injuries feel. No jokes. Just raw, unhinged… well, torture.

Part of me says I’m reading way too much into this (and I mean I probably am I’ll be 100% honest). But the other part of me says that Bill knows exactly how to manipulate and torment Ford. The first thing he’s going to notice when he wakes up is the pain in his hand, and he’s going to know exactly who caused it. Adding a lasting scar to the thing Ford is already self conscious about. The journal even points this out with a code saying he’ll have to hide his hands with gloves.

Was this intentional? Probably not, but the idea that Bill would purposefully injure and draw attention to the thing that makes Ford different , lead him to feeling outcast, and lead him to exploring the weirdness of gravity falls feels meaningful.

Sorry if this is super poorly written or anything. I came up with this idea right when I went to leave for work and have been writing this whole thing between 2 minutes breaks and stuff lol.

#crypticcozy #gravity falls #book of bill #stanford pines #ford pines #bill cipher #gravity falls theory #book of bill theory

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mistress-violence · 3 months ago

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Prompt: Journal from @into-the-jeggyverse (September 11)

Word count: 580 words

Pairing: Jegulus

⚠️ Warnings: death, loss, reference to a past sexual and emotional relationship, changed OG storyline

Since the day he heard the tragic news, James forgot how to breathe properly. The war took something from everyone, but still... James couldn't believe it will took Regulus from all of them. He always remembered that mesmerizing Slytherin boy, his black curls, his sharp greyish eyes, his sweet pale skin covered in tiny moles. Even after life break them apart, even after Regulus betrayed their thrust and joined the Death Eaters, even then James still kept the memories of their early years together.

He was the first one to find out about this. Dumbledore knew that James could make the information easier to swallow, it was his talent. His heartache was more powerful than he expected. The love he had for the Black boy never faded completely. Then, the pain grew stronger when Sirius broke down. Seeing his best friend crying so bad over the loss of his little brother was very hard.

He thought that time will heal all of his sorrows, but then it came. That bloody cursed journal. Sirius asked him to help with Regulus' belongings. His body will never be recovered, but Sirius still wanted a funeral, so he chose to bury some of his brother's clothes and dear objects. That's how James found the journal. He recognized it from their time in Hogwarts. Sometimes, after their lovemaking, Regulus would sit on his stomach and write in his journal. James knew the key charm that opens it, but he never read a single word. He respected Regulus' privacy.

Maybe it was the curiosity and nostalgia or James really believed that it will heal his pain faster, but he took the journal and read it. That's how he found out about everything, about all the secrets. Regulus never betrayed him or Sirius. Sensing the upcoming war, Dumbledore needed a trustworthy Slytherin, someone who would play the double agent role. Someone who could infiltrate along Death Eaters and extort valuable information. Regulus understood from the start how important this is, so he knew that he couldn't tell James anything. He made all of them believe he was just one of the pureblood supremacists and kept contact just with Dumbledore. He gave them informations for years, without anyone knowing.

Regulus loved James too much to put him in danger. He broke up with him so he could protect the most precious thing in his life. After Regulus left, the pages in the journal were filled with James' memory. All of his emotions that he couldn't tell anyone about, some pictures of James and his friends that Dumbledore will sometimes send to him, the loneliness. Regulus never stopped loving him. The last entry was written a few days before his death.

"I can't let Him win. I won't let Him find you. I will destroy Voldemort's soul, this is the only way to end this war. I will kill him, piece by piece, I will finish all of this. And then I will come back. I will come back and I will find you. I want to kiss you so bad, my light. If I knew that our last kiss will actually be the last, I would have made that moment ethernal. I don't know if you still remember me, if you still care. If I die trying to fight for us, I hope my death will be under the morning sun. That way, I could feel the sensation of our last kiss one more time. I didn't have the chance to tell you when we were together, but I love you and I will do so until my last breath. My beloved forever, James."

James can't breathe anymore.

#microfics #dailyprompt #marauders era #james potter #james x regulus #jeggyverse microfic #regulus black #jegulus #jegulus microfic #dead gay wizards

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cannedpickledpeaches · 8 months ago

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Insert Your Name (12)

Mafia!Jade Leech x Mafia!Reader

Link to series masterlist!

Notes and TW: Last chapter! Side stories will follow. Thank you for sticking with this series for so long! This series will have mentions of blood, violence, crime (kidnapping, attempted assassination, extortion), and harassment, as one might expect from a mafia AU. Please enjoy!

Tags: @guava-enjoyer @itszzmoon @twstsandturns @myteacupisempty @rou-luxe @chikitasmol @night-shadowblood-writes2 @haveneulalie @owodi

7:30 P.M. DD/MM/YYYY

I thought I knew the truth for a while—that this world existed inside a story. That this was a world which revolved around a nameless, faceless, flawless main character. This entire world around me existed to serve one purpose: to present trials to the main character until she eventually finds a happy ending with her one and only. This world was created for “(Y/N).”

I was Friend A. Friend A was never mentioned again after page two of that story.

It turns out that I was sort of wrong. This world is made for stories, from stories, and (Y/N) happened to be the main character at the time. Now that I’m the author, I made myself the main character.

You wrote “story” and “world” so much that they hardly look like real words anymore. The tip of your pen hovers over the first page of your journal. It’s your first time keeping one, and you aren’t certain how to proceed. What tone do you use? Should it be informal or professional? How long should each entry be? How detailed should you make it?

The trapdoor to the attic flips open. Floyd’s head pokes through it like a garden eel in the sand.

“Whatcha doin’ over there? Still lookin’ for that manuscript?”

You shake your head. The manuscript for (Y/N)’s story disappeared without a trace after your meeting with Hans. No matter how hard you searched, nothing turned up, so you could only assume he retrieved it.

“No use in looking for it. I’m starting on my journal.” The pen twirls in your hand. “I’m not really sure how I want to write it.”

He hoists himself up and saunters over to where you’re curled up at the window. He peers at your handwriting. Flippantly, he flops on the floor next to you and yawns.

“Who caaares. Write whatever ya feel like writin’. It’s not like the one before was any good.”

The previous author’s manuscript was riddled with inconsistencies, plot holes, and grammar mistakes. It wouldn’t be a massive problem. Hans would simply have to work harder to fill in the gaps.

“The previous one failed, though.”

“Then just don’t fail.” He grins up at you. “Easy, right?”

You pinch his nose, laughing when he swats at your hand.

“Easier said than done.” Despite that, his words ease the burden on your shoulders just a bit. You don’t need to overthink this. It’s your story, yours to tell however you’d like. “Thanks for the advice, though.”

“Sure, sure.” Your name rolls off his tongue dismissively. “You worry too much.”

You glance at him. “You’ve been calling me ‘Red Handfish’ recently, why’d you switch back to my name?”

The lamplight glints in Floyd’s eyes briefly, then he closes them. A lazy grin spreads on his lips.

“I was calling ya ‘Red Handfish’ ’cuz I was hopin’ you’d get your hands all red and bloody again.” A huff of air escapes him. “Shoulda been there when you beat up the security.”

“Typically, you’re supposed to not hope I’m beating up your men.”

“It’s fine. Not like Jade and I need much protectin’.” His voice quiets down to a mumble. “You’re enough for security or whatever.”

His voice trails off at the end. Soon, quiet snores fill the attic. Seeing that he isn’t planning on disrupting your writing, your attention returns to your journal. Following his advice might not be a bad idea.

My main priority was to break the curse on Mr. and Mrs. Leech. I thought I’d have to ask (Y/N) to reach out to Vil Schoenheit or write something in this journal, but it turns out I didn’t have to do anything. Hans went ahead and nudged the odds in my favour already. At least, I suspect he had a hand in it. But I’m never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, so I’ll happily accept that Walrus’s team and our own people have found a way to break the curse.

Azul was slightly disappointed that he didn’t manage to find a method on his own. He really wanted to put the twins in his debt, but I guess he’ll have to sulk. His specialty is potions, after all. Not curses. He’s also a little salty because this implies Vil Schoenheit is still more skilled than him on the subject of curses. His competitive nature never dies down when it comes to other competent people, even after all these years.

Anyway, the curse was undone three days ago. They’ve woken up perfectly stable and healthy, if a little tired. The twins have spent nearly every waking hour in their room. I’m glad they’re all looking much more lively.

Their parents wanted to go right back to work, but Jade and Floyd have been very insistent on making sure they rest. Right now, Jade and his parents have decided to split up the work equally, but Jade plans on eventually relinquishing his position as the temporary head of the Leech Mafia. He doesn’t want it back anytime soon. His parents might want him to keep observing their work, but I think he’ll take a long breather after the Carpenter Mafia dissolves. He says he wants to join a research lab on fungi. I’m sure he’ll enjoy himself there.

Speaking of Jade’s interests, Floyd owes him quite a bit for breaking his terrariums. You cast a glance at the twin dozing off on the floor. Jade’s been working him hard. Just as you’re about to pull a knitted blanket off the window seat and drape it over his torso, Jade climbs up to the attic.

“Ah, I thought I might find you two here.” He ignores your shushing motion, speaking nearly louder than his usual conversational volume. “Have you made any progress on that journal?”

“Keep it down, Floyd’s sleeping.”

“Oh? I suppose he is.” He smiles as though he’s entirely innocent. “Even though he should be running an errand on the west side of the city right now. Isn’t that so, my dear brother?”

Floyd stirs, brows furrowing as he grumbles. “Fuck off, man.”

“I’m afraid you’re late. Why don’t you head out? It wouldn’t do for you to procrastinate.” Jade leans over him, his shadow eclipsing Floyd’s face. The latter gripes some more before rolling away and hopping right through the trapdoor. His footsteps echo through the halls, eventually leading to the sound of the front door.

“He’s tired. You should let him rest.” You close your journal and set it beside you.

He kneels by your seat and rests his head on your knee. Gingerly, you reach out and comb your fingers through his hair. His entire body melts against the wall and your knee.

“I am also tired.” His eyelids drop halfway, a pitiable pout on his lips. “Much more so than he is, I’m sure.”

“And what? You want a gold medal for the Fatigue Olympics?” Despite your words, your other hand holds his jaw, thumb brushing over his cheek. “Come on, get off the floor. It can’t be comfortable.”

He sighs in contentment. “With the way you’re touching me, I have half a mind to stay where I am.”

You’ve come to realize that Jade acts this way when he’s looking for attention, and he only actively looks for attention from you. With a sigh escaping the smile on your lips, you ease his head off your knee and move your legs so that your feet touch the floor. He has the gall to look like a kicked puppy.

“You’re so dramatic.” You pat the cushioned space next to you. “Sit up here.”

It’s like his fatigue disappears as soon as you extend the invitation. He wastes no time in sitting next to you, his thigh pressing against yours. One of his hands reaches behind you. You feel it causing the cushions to shift under you as he uses it to support his weight. Strangely, it feels more intimate than if he had touched you directly. The knowledge that his arm is there creates a sense of security. Sturdy, safe, like the face of a cliff that has your back. He’ll never be a threat to you. You think back to what you once thought of people who trust Jade, and you wonder if you’re a fool, desperate, or if you have something on him.

It might not be so bad to be a fool once in a while.

You lean into his side and rest your head on his shoulder. A pause, followed by the light pressure of his cheek against your hair. His body is cool to the touch like always, and you find comfort in it.

“I’ll help you make new terrariums to replace the ones Floyd broke.”

“How kind of you.” The hand behind you lifts, only to find its place on your waist, securing you to his side. “In that case, I should consider what I’d like to grow in them. Lichen would decorate some surfaces well, but I doubt it would be possible.”

“Lichen?” You often see it back home near the shore. “Why not?”

“It cannot survive in a closed system like my terrariums.” His voice lowers to a soft, almost sweet tone. “It requires clean, fresh air, outside the confines of a box that I control. The charm of keeping a terrarium is that I control every factor within it, down to what lives or dies. But despite the fact that it eludes my grasp, I adore observing its beauty in the environment where it thrives.”

Somehow, you don’t think he’s talking about lichen anymore.

“Lichen grows on trees and rocks, right?” You think about the cliffside. Patches of pale green life covered the rocks where you met Jade. It brought a sort of earthy, rustic quality to the area. “It’s pretty. I think I’ve seen a few of your photos focusing on it.”

“Yes, it needs to be anchored to a sturdy surface.” He adjusts his grip on your waist. “Unassuming, allowing other elements of the scenery to shine, but charming and effective in its own right.”

You don’t want to ask if he’s referring to you. He’ll surely tease you for being self-absorbed. However, you are not so prideful as to not acknowledge what he’s trying to say.

“I sort of understand wanting to be anchored to something.” You place one hand over his. “It’s easier to let my guard down when there’s something that can protect my back.”

“Allow me to assist you with that.” He intertwines your fingers. “If you must be anchored to something, I’ll be more than happy to provide you with support forever, until you ask me to stop.”

“All this talk about ‘forever.’” A grin pulls at your lips. There’s no harm in teasing him once in a while. “It’s like you’re trying to marry me. What’s with that, huh?”

His entire body freezes. You lift your head from his shoulder, trying to look at his face.

“Jade? I was joking—”

He gently presses against your temple, his wrist blocking your eyes as he guides your head back down to his shoulder. What a letdown. This time, you really wanted to see his expression.

“Incidentally,” he says, “would you like to have dinner with me tomorrow?”

“You changed the topic way too abruptly.” Laughter bubbles in your throat. “I thought you were better at making conversation than that.”

“I’m inclined to disagree.” He doesn’t elaborate. “Are you free tomorrow evening? We can book a reservation for that restaurant you wanted to try.”

Usually, you wouldn’t turn it down. But . . .

“Sorry, I’ll be out with (Y/N) all day.” You’ve missed her. And after she called you in distress over losing the polaroids you took together, you promised to replace them with new ones. There’s so much you have yet to do with her. “Maybe the day after?”

Jade sighs loudly, as though he’s the most pitiful being in the world. Amidst teasing laughter, you close your journal and focus your attention on him. It’s alright to take your time writing it. Your story is a process that does not need to be rushed. It may only be a page at the moment, but one day, you’re sure this journal will fill with your experiences, plans, and thoughts. You will continue on living as your own person—not a side character or a main character in a grander scheme, but as yourself. To live as a human being with your unique experiences—that is your story.

#twisted wonderland #disney twst #jade leech #twst jade #twst x reader #jade leech x reader #twst fanfic #mafia au #floyd leech #multi chap fic #slow burn has burned #thanks for reading so far!

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rainintheevening · 8 months ago

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The day 19-year-old Peter Pevensie ships out for the Mediterranean, lieutenant's commission and a COs commendation in hand, he's all tall, golden boy in British khaki with a soft smile and a merry laugh and oddly old eyes.

His socks are hand-knitted, with his initials PWP worked in around the top. He wears a small golden lion on a leather string around his neck, tucked under his shirt alongside his dogtags.

In his kit bag he carries a Bible, new, brown leather, not too big to be jammed in a pocket. The writing on the first page is tidy, a little squared off, no blots: June 1943, Peter, my brother, my captain, my king. We are all held safe between the paws of the Lion. Ephesians 6:10-18.

Tucked in beside that is a small, chunky book of Spurgeon's sermons, with Prof. Digory Kirke in the corner of the flyleaf, and a loose-leaf of paper that Peter uses for a bookmark, precious though it is, covered in his father's barely legible scratch.

There's a hand-bound book of poems, copied by Lucy and collected with several of Susan's watercolours, all trees like old friends and flowers like stars and rolling English hills. It will take months for those pages to stop smelling like home.

Next to that is tucked a sturdy little journal, pencil attached and fat with empty cream-coloured pages. It will take only a week for it to lose its clean smell, and the many words scribbled there will make it fatter still.

Three others are piled in around those—a beat-up hardback novel stripped of its dust jacket and stamped as White Fang, a bright new George MacDonald novel with Be brave, my son, and may the adventure always bring you safely home. Mother penned inside, and another naked hardback identified along its spine as The Aeneid.

Some eyebrows get raised at the extra weight of that library, but Peter is charming and humble, and he'll be the only one to suffer from it anyway.

A little more than two years later Peter Pevensie will return with a captain’s epaulets on his shoulders, and the same soft smile on a leaner, browner face.

He will be wearing an entirely different pair of socks, but still ones that have PWP worked into the stripes along the top.

The leather string will be gone, and so will the little gold lion, folded into a shaking hand, given with a murmured prayer and a kiss pressed to salty fevered forehead, somewhere on the side of an Italian mountain.

The books will be nearly all there. The Bible, wrinkled with water damage, fingerprinted with little dark smears, it's cover scored with a smokey black streak. The poetry, cared for so carefully; the sermons, well earmarked and notated; the MacDonald novel now sans dust jacket, spine cracked, and with grit worked into its creases.

The Aeneid will still be there, though greatly altered thanks to the bullet buried in the upper half of it.

White Fang will be missing, left in the hands of a wildly curious, dream-eyed Arab boy, who will pick up English like a starving man picks up food, and will cry when the Fighting Fifth gets shipped back to Italy. There will be a black and white photograph tucked into its pages— four soldiers surrounding a tall, fair-haired one with a thin dark-headed boy standing high atop his shoulders, arms raised as if he would fall forward into flight, all smiling.

Peter will carry the journal home in his pocket, all muddy and smoky, all smeared with pencil lead and sweat, bloody fingerprints on a few pages, heavy with a thousand and one thoughts, the unburdening of his heart, all ready to be placed in his brother’s hands.

Peter Pevensie will return like his books, with dirt in the creases, a little worn, a little tattered, a little scarred. But his wise old (kingly) eyes... they shine the same way when he smiles, sun in his golden hair.

#peter pevensie #ww2 #books #narnia fanfiction #my writing #i have been working this one out in my head for a few days now. finally got it to work.#also i LOVE researching ww2 #narnia #oh and i gave him the middle name william

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cowboydisaster · 1 year ago

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The Fire In Your Eyes

part XIII: Clemens Point ii

pairing: Arthur Morgan x fem!reader word count: 10.1k summary: Arthur patches you up and makes good on his promise *wink wink*. Dutch insists you work with the Gray family, which leads you to a job gone wrong. a/n: long time no see. I'm excited to be back and to get this chapter out. love you guys so much and I'm still astounded by how many follow this series. ignore any typos, margo is sleeping hehe. lastly, i write most of this in may, but as for the rest, its been awhile since i wrote arthur so forgiive me if im a little rickety around the edges. warnings: nsfw, 18+, smut, minors dni, graphic violence, sexual themes. series masterpost │ masterlist

The sunlight filters through the cracks of your tent, casting the room in orange shadows. It's a surprisingly peaceful morning, and you awaken on your own instead of by a yelling Miss Grimshaw or some other camp ruckus. Your eyes flutter open slowly, landing on Arthur. You stay still so as not to alert him as you watch his form.

He's still dressed in his unbuttoned union suit, sitting in a chair with his ankle crossed over his knee. He faces you, but his face is scrunched up in concentration as he fixates on the journal in his lap. His hand works diligently, wrapped around a piece of charcoal as he details something on the worn pages. You smile, catching his eyes when he glances up to your cuddled up body.

"Didn't mean to wake ya." Arthur mumbles, folding his journal over his charcoal. It's a rarity that you get to sleep in, and Arthur had wanted to let you rest as long as possible.

"You didn't." You hum, smiling up at him as you prop your head up on your elbow, "Can I see?" You ask.

Arthur hesitates for only a fraction of a second before standing and sitting down on the bed beside you. It dips under his weight, and you lean into his shoulder as he passes the leather bound journal over to you.

Your fingers sift through the pages until you find the charcoal, and carefully, you open the little book. A smile tugs at your lips as you run your fingers over the drawing. It takes up two pages, a perfect sketch of you sleeping. Your hair is messy, with little wisps framing your face in an effortlessly beautiful crown. Your lips are plump from sleep as you cling to the thick blankets, you had hoped they were Arthur in your unconscious state. Your eyelashes are thick as your eyes lay closed, your body frozen in time in the little journal.

"Beautiful." You hum, eyes never leaving the pages. There's a few words written at the bottom of the page, and your eyes flicker to them.

'I reckon I'll be counting my lucky stars until the end of my days.'

"And I'll be countin' mine." You hum, looking up at him. The journal meets your lap as your hand cups his cheek. Arthur's hand covers your own, his warmth encasing you.

"You're too good for me." Arthur says, his. green eyes searching the depths of your own. Even after the time you've spent together, he struggles to comprehend why you've chosen him.

"I'm not." You counter as Arthur pulls your hand away from his face. He takes your smaller hand in his, looking down at your bruised and bloodied knuckles from when you'd beat the outlaw Anders Anderson.

"I was supposed to patch these up last night." Arthur raises an eyebrow at you as if it's your fault that you both forgot. You can't help it that you fell asleep, he was just too comfortable.

"They're fine, just a few scratches." You say as Arthur inspects the damage. Bruises blossom along your knuckles in purple and red splotches, and you wince as Arthur gently runs his thumb across them.

"This'll only take me a minute." He hums, reaching to his satchel to pull out a few items. He brings some cotton balls and a bottle of alcohol out. You watch on as Arthur kneels on the ground before you, pouring some of the alcohol onto the little swab. He puts the alcohol down before taking your hand in his own to examine your knuckles.

"This is gonna sting like hell." He warns, and you nod, letting him know to continue.

You groan through clamped teeth when the alcohol soaked cotton reaches the scrapes on your knuckles. It seeps through the cuts, burning you with a stinging blaze as it cleans your wounds. Arthur pulls the cotton away, eyes flickering up to you to make sure it doesn't hurt too bad.

"I'm okay." You reassure him. Arthur's eyes flicker down to your stomach before he continues cleaning up your hands. He remembers seeing Anders punch you in the gut, and he makes a note to check there too. You get used to the burning sensation when Arthur wipes away the blood from your other hand. He takes his time, working diligently with his eyebrows pulled together in focus.

When he deems your hands clean, he stands, extending his hand out to you. You take it, standing chest to chest as Arthur's hands silently find the hem of your chemise. You raise your arms as he pulls it over your head and tosses it to the ground. The silence is loud as Arthur runs his fingers between the valley of your breasts until they land on the bruised skin of your stomach. You shudder under his touch, hands sheepishly covering your breasts as he traces the pattern of forming bruises. His touch is so soft that you barely feel it, just a feather light trail along your exposed skin.

"He got you pretty good." Arthur mumbles.

"You got him a lot worse."

Arthur's fingers cause goosebumps to ripple across your skin, and he's not lost on the way your breathing quickens. His hands find purchase on your waist once he's checked you over, and you lean up to whisper in his ear.

"You broke your promise." You murmur into his ear. Your hands press against his chest, snaking under his union suit. Arthur's lips find your neck as his hands pull you closer to his body. He'd promised to spend the night with you last night, but you were both too tired. It seems like a perfect moment to call the favor in.

"Did I?" He teases, mumbling against your neck as he lightly nips the skin there. He knows exactly what he owes you. His hand slides up your ribs, thumb teasing your nipple in small circles. The feelings he gives you– god, wiping away your cuts and bruises one moment and sucking on your neck in the next. He fills you with butterflies, he fills you with need.

"Mhm." You moan as he kisses your pulsepoint. He can feel how your heart quickens under his touch, and he smirks at the realization.

"My apologies, miss." Arthur grumbles as your hands grip onto his union suit, sliding the cloth down over his shoulders. It hits the floor, wrapped around his ankles before he steps out of the material.

His hand runs down your hip to your entrance, and he runs his fingers over your folds through your underwear. It's only seconds before his lips meet yours, and his fingers hook under your waistband, pulling the rest of the clothing down. It meets the floor silently as Arthur's lips move against yours, and butterflies rise in your stomach at his touch. You moan into his mouth as he runs his tongue over your bottom lip, gently pulling away with a nip.

He nudges you back so softly, until the backs of your knees hit the bed with a gentle thud. You glance up to him as he cups your cheek, thumb running over the soft flesh on your cheekbone.

You love him. Looking up at him, you know it. You choke on emotion as he looks down at you with those sparkling green eyes. There's so much warmth in them, so much softness. You've never been cared for like he cares for you.

You lay back on the bed, extending your hand out for Arthur to take. His warm hand wraps around yours as he meets you on the bed, body lining overtop of you.

"Do we have a lot of time?" You whisper, hands gripping Arthur's hair as he kisses the trail between your breasts. You arch your back, looking for more of his lips.

"All the time in the world." He hums against your skin, teasing your nipple with his tongue. It's a new sensation, and you gasp as it sends a ripple of pleasure straight through your core. His hand kneads your other breast before his kisses trail back up to your neck.

"So perfect," He growls against your skin, gripping your waist tightly between his big hands, "My Star."

Your heart soars underneath him, and you catch his lips in one last sweet kiss before he pulls back to touch you. A few strands of Arthur's hair fall into his face, his lips are plump from your kisses and his eyes are shining. His muscles tighten beautifully as he adjusts, spreading your knees so gently that your heart skips a beat. You're still new at this, and Arthur plans on talking you through it to make sure you're comfortable. Even without him saying it, you know he will. He always does.

Arthur's fingers run along your folds, and you buck your hips to speed up his process. You should try to be quick, anyone could come along at any point and find you two, but Arthur can't bring himself to rush. It's been too long since he's had you, and he plans on taking his time.

You're soaking with need for him as Arthur slips his fingers into you. You moan, and your head tosses back as Arthur curls them slowly, tickling that sweet spot deep in you. Your hand searches for something to grip onto, settling on his less busy hand. You grip it tightly, and he interlocks your fingers together.

"How's this feel?" Arthur asks, glancing up to your face. There's a look of ecstasy there, pure bliss as your features relax and you bite your lip.

"Good." You hum, keeping your voice quiet to not alert anyone. Arthur chuckles as your hand tightens around his own, and his fingers keep a steady pace as his thumb meets the bud of nerves at your core.

He leans down to catch your lips, steadying himself on your interlocked hand. You moan into his mouth as he kisses you blind. You’ll never get used to letting yourself have this. His warmth wraps around your body, making you feel safe and loved. His fingers keep their slow pace, bringing you closer and closer to the brink of satisfaction as he holds you tightly underneath him. Your skin blazes with warmth at his touch, muscles tightening as he gives you everything you could have dreamed of.

“Still okay?” Arthur asks, pulling away from your lips for a second to speak in a low tone. You nod your head, pulling him down to you with your free hand. Your other hand lays interlocked with his beside your head, gripping him tightly in fear that if you let go he’ll disappear. It’s foolish, a bad habit.

“Yes–!” You gasp, stomach coiling before his hands finally send you over the edge. You squeeze his hand as you moan, coming undone. Arthur quickly kisses you, muffling your moans with his mouth so as not to alert anyone of the display you're making. His lips are gentle against your own, lovingly making yours bruised with kisses. Waves crash over you, stronger than the ocean's as you mewl and moan against Arthur's lips. Your legs tremble, toes curling as you pull away to gasp for breath. Arthur's fingers slip out of you, and his hand finds purchase on the mattress beside your head. With a smile on his lips, Arthur places a kiss to your forehead.

"I could do this all day." He hums deeply against your hair. There's nothing quite like watching you unfold, and it's a sight Arthur won't ever get enough of.

"Yes, but we can't." You counter, letting go of his hand to wrap both of yours around the back of his neck, pulling him down to you, "So hurry up. Y’know, it's rude to leave a lady waitin."

Arthur chuckles, and he leans down to press a quick kiss to your lips.

"Yes ma'am." He chuckles again, always astounded by your tongue. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him down to you. Never in your life have you let yourself be so vulnerable with someone, it's a shocking realization. You're not afraid of it anymore, you don't fight it. You'll happily trust fall into this relationship if he's the one catching you– which he always will be.

Arthur's already hard pressed from just watching and hearing you as he lines up with your entrance. You grip his shoulders in anticipation before he slowly slides in the whole way. You gasp, shuddering at the feeling of being so damn full.

"Y'okay?" Arthur asks as you wince from the stretch of it all.

"Yes. Please, move." You beg, digging your heels into him. He starts to move, sliding out just to come back in, slow and hard. Your eyes fall closed and you bite your lip to stop the moans from falling out. Anyone could walk past and hear. Hell, even the bed creaking might alert someone.

Your eyelashes flutter open, eyes locking onto his for a moment as your heart skips a beat. He's so perfect. His arms flex and strain beautifully as he holds himself above you. His green eyes flicker over your body, making sure you're comfortable and enjoying yourself, drinking your body in all the while.

His tanned skin is covered with a thin sheen of sweat. You can't help the way you pull him down to you, pressing your lips to his neck. Arthur groans as you kiss the sensitive spot, and again as your lips part, nibbling on his earlobe.

"You feel so damn good." You whimper as the bed rocks. Arthur grips the small headboard to silence it, and you watch as his muscles flex above your head. He uses the headboard for leverage, thrusting into you harder. You place your wrist over your mouth to silence your moans as he loves you with reckless abandon.

A slow fluttering starts in your core, spreading out as Arthur's thrusts get harder. He's losing his composure, and you watch as his eyes occasionally squint shut, or his mouth falls open and closes again before he can make any noise. It's a shame, having to be so quiet.

"You're–" Arthur purses his lips to stop from groaning, "Such a good girl."

Good girl? It does something to you, ignites a fire under your skin as you grip onto him.

"Say that again." You mewl, head tossing back. Arthur recounts what he's just said, putting two and two together as your nails scratch at his back and your hips buck to meet his.

"That's my good girl." Arthur smirks, happily uncovering this information. You snap, unfolding beneath him completely once his thumb starts to brush against your clit. You try not to think about Arthur's past partners, but you subconsciously thank them for teaching him what he knows because damn– he knows.

"Oh, Arthur–" You begin.

Arthur's hand lets go of the head board and clamps over your mouth, muffling your noises. His hand is big, covering your entire mouth and forcing you to breathe through your nose. If anything, it only spurs you on further.

"Darlin', you know I love hearin' you say my name, but you gotta be quiet." Arthur shushes, but it's a moot point. Your eyes roll back, legs clamping around Arthur as stars fill your vision and pleasure rolls over you like the lapping shores of Flat Iron Lake. Arthur's hand muffles all the noises that he wishes he could hear while he thinks about how he'll need to get you both a hotel room soon.

Contrary to what he's saying about keeping you quiet, he begins pounding into you hard. He's close. Watching you finish proves to be his undoing as he fights back groans, letting go of your mouth to replace his hand with his lips. Your tongues collide as your lips slot together, and both of your moans mix as you muffle each other's noises. You come down just as Arthur slips out, shooting his spend on your spread thighs.

“Christ.” Arthur pants, pressing a kiss to your forehead. You squeeze his hand lightly before he stands from the bed to get you a towel.

“What a way to start the morning.” You hum, propping your head on your hand. Your eyes run over his naked form, and you smirk as the planes of his back flex.

"You practically jumped me. Weren't my fault." Arthur chuckles, bringing the towel over to clean you up.

"I did not!" You defend, smacking him lightly. Arthur chuckles, tossing the towel in his little hamper.

"Whatever you say." Arthur jokes as your jaw falls playfully. You huff, not minding him as you stand up to get ready.

After getting dressed and cleaned up, you and Arthur head out of his tent together. It’s still early, but mostly everyone else is awake, save for Uncle and Reverend.

“I’ll get you some coffee.” Arthur mumbles, hand on the small of your back before he leaves you to get the percolator from Pearson’s tent.

“Thank you.” You smile, eyes scanning over camp to see where everyone is. Charles and John sit at the fire, and you make your way over as you place your black hat atop your head. John and Charles laugh over something as you walk towards them, taking a seat on the other side of the fire.

“Boys.” You greet, digging your boot into the dirt. John has a cigarette between his lips and a cup of coffee in his hand, and Charles is sharpening his hunting knife by the fire.

“Where you been all morning? We had to listen to Grimshaw’s nagging for the last half hour.” John asks and you blush, looking down at your hands.

“Just slept in is all.” You lie, perking up as Arthur walks across camp with two steaming cups of joe.

“There he is.” Charles hums as Arthur sits down beside you on the log. He hands you the metal cup of coffee, and you wrap your hands around the warm mug, cherishing the way its heat sinks into your bones.

“What you boys been up to since we got down here?” Arthur asks before his lips meet the rim of his mug and he drinks down some of his coffee. You’re distracted from the conversation when a little hand tugs at the back of your shirt. The conversation continues on as you turn around with a smile on your face.

“Hey Jack.” You greet as the young boy walks around the log to the front. Without warning, he crawls up into your lap, curling up. You place your coffee on the ground, brushing your fingers through the boy’s hair.

“How you likin’ the new camp?” You ask, looking down at him. You feel bad for Jack. All he's done his whole life is move from place to place, no home besides a bedroll on the ground. His family, the gaggle of outlaws, is falling apart before him, and he has nothing but the clothes on his back to cling to.

“It’s okay! I like the water. Momma lets me play in the lake, and she’s even teaching me how to swim!” Jack smiles, beaming with pride as he looks at the lake behind you.

“Is she?” You smile warmly as Jack nods.

“Yep! It’s so fun, but I think my Papa is afraid of the water… he never comes in.” Jack’s eyebrows furrow as he thinks about John and his fear of water, and you giggle. John’s attention falls on you both then, and his face scrunches up in something similar to offense mixed with humor.

“Hey, I ain’t afraid of the water.” John huffs, shaking his head. Arthur laughs out loud, joining the conversation as well.

“Sure Y’ain’t! Remember that time back in New Austin you fell into that–” He looks to Charles, “What was it?”

“Lake Don Julio.” Charles replies with a smirk.

“Yeah, that's it. You fell into Lake Don Julio n’ everyone had to gather round to scoop your sorry ass out.” Arthur laughs, and Jack giggles in your lap.

“I–” John tries to come up with some defense, “My horse bucked me, weren’t my fault, and that water was deep.”

You all laugh as John’s cheeks burn red as the flames of the campfire, and he shakes his head.

“It’s alright, John. We can have the boy teach you to swim.” Arthur chuckles, gesturing to Jack. Arthur’s eyes linger on you for a moment, taking in the sight of Jack in your arms. It comes so naturally to you, being around children. They love you. It makes his heart warm and ache just the same.

“I hate to break up all the fun, but there’s work to be done.” A booming voice calls from across camp. Your eyes flicker up to Dutch, stomping forward through camp with some plan sparkling in his eyes. You sigh, placing Jack’s feet on the ground as he jogs off towards his tent.

“We was just talkin.” John says, standing from his seat and dusting off his knees. Everyone looks to Dutch as he scans around the fire, taking in the four of you. His hands are on his belt as he eyes you and Arthur.

“You two." Dutch points at you and then Arthur, "I want you poking around the Gray's today. Go down to the jail and pay our dear friend, the Sheriff, a visit. See what you can find." Dutch orders. You nod, grabbing your cup of coffee from the ground to swig down the last of it.

"Hosea is already at the Braithwaite’s. He mentioned something about moonshine. I'll have you both workin' with him in no time. We're gonna play these folk like fiddles, hit them from both sides and they'll be none the wiser." Dutch says with his chest puffed. He's proud of his plan no doubt, foolish as it is.

The names Gray and Braithwaite cause so much ruckus around here, and no one messes with those families for a reason. Leave it to Dutch to poke the bear. You're not so sure about playing both families, but Dutch is the leader, after all. You know when to keep your mouth shut, and now is certainly one of those times. You place your coffee cup into your satchel before standing from the log, stretching your knees as you do.

"Alright, guess it wouldn't hurt to just talk to the feller. Maybe he'll even have some more work. Star, you up for more outlaw chasin'?" Arthur chuckles.

"Still recoverin' from the last one, but sure!" You smirk, grabbing your satchel and swinging it over your shoulder.

"Don't make any noise in town, just get on the Sheriff's good side." Dutch says as he backs away, turning to head back to his tent.

"Sure." You remark quietly, turning to look at John and Charles, "I'll catch you boys later."

They nod as you wait for Arthur to grab his things, and then head off towards the hitching posts. Athena and Balius are there waiting for you, but surprisingly they aren't saddled like you'd expected them to be. Your eyebrows pull together as you look around for Kieran.

A smile blossoms on your lips, and you grab Arthur's shirt to pull his attention to where you're looking.

He turns, watching the scene play out with furrowed brows.

Kieran and Marybeth sit side by side on the blanket under her canopy, smiling and chatting with each other. There's a book in Marybeth's hands, but it's folded closed over her thumb. Her attention is too focused on Kieran to worry about the silly story. Kieran is nervously rambling, shaking his head, and smiling like a schoolboy.

"You think they're sweet on one another?" You ask, looking up at Arthur. He huffs.

"Marybeth and that damn O'Driscoll. Who woulda thought?" Arthur exclaims, shaking his head. You’re not sure that he approves of the apparent relationship between the two, but he did save Kieran, so that has to count for something.

“He ain’t an O’Driscoll– at least not anymore. He’s not so bad, actually.” You hum, watching on for a moment longer before walking towards Athena. She’s near the posts, unhitched, munching on a bale of hay with Balius. The scarred shire horse nudges your mare’s nose affectionately as they share the foliage. It brings a sweet smile to your lips.

“Look, even these two are courtin’ each other. What the hell’s in the water?” Arthur chuckles, placing his hand under Balius’s jaw to lead the horse to the post. He follows with little instruction, and you whistle for Athena to come to you. You grab her bridle from the post, sliding the bit in her mouth before fastening her chin strap. The mare looks good. You run your hand down her body, checking over her for anything out of sorts. She whinnies lightly, shaking her head as you scratch her croup.

“Is there a stable in Rhodes?” You ask, leaning down to pick up Athena’s hoof. Her shoes have grown out a little further than you’d like, she's definitely due for a new pair.

Arthur runs a brush along Balius’s body, getting rid of any dirt as he coos to the stallion. He turns at your question, seeing the overgrown hooves that you’re looking at.

“No, the nearest one is up by the stateline. We’ll get up there soon enough, Balius is fixin’ for a new set of shoes too.” Arthur explains, and you nod.

You grab your saddle pad and saddle together, and carefully swing them over Athena’s back. You tie her saddle with a perfect texas t before checking all the straps. Arthur is still tacking Balius up, and you seize the moment to feed Athena an oatcake from your satchel.

“Here girl.” You mumble to the mare, petting her nose as she munches on the treat.

“You comin’?” Arthur asks, swinging himself into the saddle. You climb onto Athena, sticking your boot into your stirrup.

“I guess.” You chuckle, thinking about going back to Rhodes. You’re not sure how Dutch thinks you’re going to become Sheriff Leigh Gray’s new best friend, but you’ll try nonetheless.

“Ladies first.” Arthur hums, and you roll your eyes as you pass him on the trail out of camp. Sean is on guard duty, and he makes sure to give you some hell as you pass by. Other than him, the ride goes smooth. No Lemoyne Raiders get in your way, which you’re thankful for. Athena is a bit more sensitive than usual on account of her shoes, but other than that the ride to Rhodes is good.

You pull your mare up to the hitching post outside of the jail and hop down with a slight wince. You’ve barely recovered from your last wild goose chase, and here you are, back at the jail to pick up more work. Rhodes isn’t too busy on account of the time, which you’re thankful for. Arthur gives Balius a pat for his work before stepping towards you with a smile.

“Ready?” He asks, hand settling on the small of your back as he leads you up the steps.

“Sure am.” You chuckle. Arthur grabs the old brass door handle and pulls it open, holding it open for you. You walk through the threshold, squinting as your eyes adjust to the change in light. Leigh Gray, the sheriff, sits in his chair with his boots up on his desk. His hands are occupied with the day’s paper as he glances up to you two.

“You’re back! Y’know I never did catch your names yesterday.” The sheriff points out, slapping his paper down on the desk. He swings his feet down to the ground, standing up to shake Arthur’s hand.

Arthur quickly scans the room, finding a collection of posters on the wall. They’re all advertisements, and Arthur hones in on one for ‘Callahan’s Confectionery’.

“Arthur Callahan,” Arthur introduces his newfound alias all the while shaking the hand of the sheriff, “and the missus.” Arthur introduces you as his wife, and a blush forms across your cheeks. Sheriff Gray tips his hat to you as you hide your hands behind your back to avoid any questions about the lack of a ring.

“Well, Mr. Callahan, how can I help you on this fine morning?” The Sheriff asks. He seems nervous. Sweat clings to his brow and dark circles line under his eyes. You assume the Anderson boy has been giving him trouble, and there’s also the apparent problem with the Gray’s son and that Braithwaite girl.

“That's actually what we came to ask you. We’re lookin’ to help out.” Arthur explains, taking a few steps forward. Arthur doesn’t mean to intimidate the man, but the sheriff takes a few steps back anyway. You wonder how he’s managed to remain in office for so long without getting killed or worse. He seems pretty yellow-bellied for the job.

“You need work? Well I’m glad you came to me. It’s always better to work for a Gray than a stinkin’, degenerate Braithwaite.”

Arthur’s tongue lines his cheek as he fights the urge to roll his eyes at the goddamn feud tearing these people apart.

“Of course.” Arthur replies.

“Y’know… there’s this bastard I’ve been meaning to grab. He’s gone out of state, but I want him. He killed my second cousin Gertrude, you see.” The Sheriff begins. His eyes almost glaze over as he gets lost in his story, “She was lookin’ for medicine, but this man– he is a no good fellow. He sells poison as medicine. Y’know, my great grandfather was a doctor? When we was kids he used to–” Sheriff Gray rambles on before Arthur rolls his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose with one hand and interrupting the annoying man.

“Listen, mister, no disrespect, but just tell me who he is and where to find him.” Arthur grumbles, irritated with the fool. The Sheriff doesn’t look too hurt by Arthur’s interruption, and you assume his ramblings are frequently cut short.

“His name is Benedict Allbright. He’s a peculiar looking fella, came from the city after pitching his miracle cure. He's been seen near Valentine, you know of it?” The Sheriff asks, to which you nod your head dejectedly.

“Yeah, we know it.” You sigh, glancing up at Arthur.

“He’s near the Dakota River, camping out on the cliffs. I need him alive.” Sheriff Gray gives you the details before slumping back into his chair and picking the newspaper back up. You nod, turning to head out the door, but Sheriff Gray turns your attention back to him.

"Oh! Almost forgot– there's a festival bein' held. Rhodes' 75th anniversary. Here. You're welcome to join, it's supposed to be a good time." The Sheriff says, grabbing a pamphlet from his desk drawer. Your eyebrows pull together as you accept the paper, running your eyes over the festivities. Games, food, candy, and shows, it seems like a good time, so long as the feud settles down enough for the town to get along.

"Well, thank you. You can count on us bein' there." Arthur hums before tipping his hat. "And Allbright? Well, I reckon we'll have him back to you in no time."

The Sheriff holds up a hand in a half attempt at a wave as you and Arthur exit the jail. As soon as you're out of earshot, you grip Arthur's arm, forcing him to turn around.

"'You can count on us bein' there'? Are you sure goin' to this festival is a good idea?" You ask, holding the pamphlet out to Arthur. He takes the paper, running his tongue over his thumb before flipping the page.

"It'll get us more information, and hell, it might be fun." Arthur replies, eyes running over the list of vendors. Your eyebrows pull together, and a hand on his bicep pulls his attention back to you.

"We got an alias to keep up now. The Callahans? We gotta be careful with that, Arthur. And with Hosea playin' the other side like he is? I don't know if havin' a good time in the middle of town is the attention we need right now." You point out, tone hushed to avoid eavesdroppers. Arthur nods his head, eyes flickering up to yours. He sees the worry clouding your eyes, and his hand comes up to cup your cheek, thumb running over your cheekbone.

"C'mon, where's that fire?" Arthur asks and your face falls, "We got this, it's just a festival. We get a little information, and we have a good time. An evenin' away from camp, havin' fun like decent folk do. It'll be good for us."

You lean into his touch, letting out a breath at his reassurance.

"I'm just so afraid they're gonna find us again…" You admit, and Arthur's smile falters at the sight of your worries. You're talking about the Pinkertons of course. After Valentine, any noise is bad noise.

"They won't. I won't let 'em hurt you, Star." Arthur mumbles, eyes searching the pain on your face and wishing that they could reassure you. He means every word of his promise. He will not let the Pinkertons lay a damned finger on you.

But it does sound like a good time. A day away, enjoying yourselves like a normal couple might, sharing fine treats and walking down the main street hand in hand. It's a simple pleasure, something an average couple might do, but you and Arthur are certainly not an average couple.

"Fine, when is it?" You ask, peeking towards the pamphlet in his hands. He unfolds the paper flaps, locating the date in red, bold letters.

"Next week." He states, tapping his finger against the paper.

"It's a date. But c'mon, let's go get this bastard first." You say, nudging Arthur towards the horses. They’re waiting patiently, tails swatting away unwanted flies as they take turns drinking from the trough. You walk side by side with Arthur, chuckling at a pair of foxhounds playing in the rust colored dirt.

“You ever bounty hunted before?” Arthur asks, taking his reins from the hitching post and swinging them over Balius’s neck.

“No.” You huff. You’ve been on the wrong side of the law for a while now. It never occurred to you to hunt down other outlaws. It’s also a two or more man job, you’d neve tackle a bounty alone.

“We can make it there in a day. We misewell stop at the stables on the way too, get everyone new shoes.” Arthur hums. He slips his boot into his stirrup in time with you as you both swing up into the saddle. Athena paws at the ground impatiently until you squeeze her sides to walk down the main road.

“Do we have everything we need?” You ask. Surely you’ll need something to tie Allbright up with, a lasso or bolas. You’re not sure what else bounty hunting entails, but you feel underprepared.

“Yeah, I got everythin’ on me. We’ll spend the night up there, ride back in the mornin.” Arthur calls to you, his drawl thick. Being back in the south has made his accent a little stronger, and you smile for it.

“How exactly does this help us with the Grays?” You ask. Going on a wild goose chase seems odd, especially considering that you’re supposed to be gathering intel on the Grays. Instead, you’re heading back to Valentine, the town that almost got you all killed a handful of weeks ago.

“Well, Dutch wants us on their good side, so we’ll do what the sheriff says n’ hope he gives us somethin.”

You bite your tongue. It seems above Arthur’s station to go out running around for Dutch. You’d think that after being his right hand man for twenty years, Dutch could send someone else out on these jobs.

“You his errand boy now?” You bite. The words slip out, and your eyes fall shut as you cringe, awaiting his snap.

“Excuse me?” Arthur’s eyes squint as he turns around in his saddle to look at you sternly.

“Listen, I didn’t mean nothin’ by it, but couldn’t he have sent one of the other boys? I mean, shouldn’t you be in camp plannin’ with Dutch?”

The words cut Arthur deep. He’s not upset with you, he’s upset because you’re right. Micah is probably back from Downes’ Ranch by now, whispering lies into Dutch’s ear. It should be Arthur by Dutch’s side. Arthur locks his jaw, pushing the thoughts away.

“It ain’t like that, Star. We all gotta do our part.” He counters, still in denial about the whole thing.

“Hey.” You call softly, trotting Athena up to Balius’s side. You reach over and grab Arthur’s hand, squeezing it encouragingly, “You’re right, we all gotta do our part… I’m sorry.”

Arthur stops his horse and squeezes your hand back.

“I’m just glad to be with ya, darlin’. Now c’mon, stable ain’t far.” Arthur whispers, nodding Northwest.

— — — —

Balius and Athena each get new shoes, a proper grooming, and plenty of provisions for the road. They look incredible, and you tip the stable hand nicely for his work. After their pampering, you hit the road towards Valentine, though you'd rather be headed anywhere else. Arthur takes care to avoid the town, riding on the outskirts to evade any lingering law.

He leads you in the direction of the cliffs, and the paths get more and more narrow the higher you descend.

"I don't like this, Arthur. We should leave the horses here." You point out, heart pounding as you look at the water below the cliff's edge. Athena prances nervously, tossing her head and pawing at the ground.

"Alright, we'll walk the rest. Shouldn't be far." Arthur agrees, dismounting before walking further up the slope.

A little fire comes into view, you can see the smoke rising above the cliff that you’re climbing up. You try not to look down and see the Dakota River below. It splashes and rages forward, waves crashing against rocks and splashing up in crystal-like pebbles of water. You swallow thickly, stomach churning as you follow Arthur.

“Try not to look down.” Arthur grunts, and you nod.

“Easier said than done.” You huff, keeping your footsteps calculated. Arthur uses two fingers to signal that Allbright is ahead, and you hunch down.

You and Arthur see the bounty before he sees you. He's hunched over a small campfire on the rocks, poking at the flames with a stick. His movements cause embers and smoke to waft up to the dark sky in flecks. You focus on the embers to distract yourself from the turmoil below.

He is an oddly dressed man, clearly from the city. Allbright is adorned in a blue suit with a matching top hat. A small pair of spectacles sit on the bridge of his large nose, giving sight to beady, dark eyes. You step closer to him, looking up at Arthur for instruction.

"Follow my lead." He whispers back to you and you nod.

Arthur stands up tall then, pushing his shoulders back and you see as a new persona falls over him. You can understand why Hosea is always pushing Arthur to act more, he's a natural. Arthur strides forward until he's just near the edge of Allbright's camp.

"You Benedict Allbright?" Arthur asks loudly, stepping forward. You follow, staying a step behind and to the side of Arthur.

Allbright's head snaps up in shock and he immediately stands from the fire, backing away from the two of you. He drops his poking stick to the ground, and it catches on fire, burning up against the rock trail.

"N-no!" Allbright shakes his head. You can see the panic in his eyes, you can hear the tremble in his voice.

"You look a lot like him." You say plainly, eyeing up and down his suit. The bright colors nearly give you a headache, and you wonder why anyone would spend such an amount of money on such odd clothes, "And we were told he'd be up here." You add.

Benedict Allbright takes a step back, almost plastering himself against the rock wall. He shakes his head nervously. When you look up at Arthur for a game plan, your eyebrows draw together. He looks… sad, crestfallen even.

"You see, we were hopin' to buy some medicine from him." Arthur sighs, dejected. His head falls lightly and he grips your hand.

"My mother in law, she's real sick." Arthur says.

Damn he's good.

You copy his downtrodden look, teary eyes flickering up to Allbright in one final plea.

"We'll pay in gold if you help us, mister." You beg, a faux tear slipping down your cheek.

Allbright lights up like a damn Christmas tree. A smile forms across his lips as he points his index fingers to the sky.

"If it's for a sick woman, I'd be happy to help!" He chimes. You watch on as he shuffles towards his bedroll, rummaging through a bag there. He pulls out a shimmering, dark green bottle, looking like any other tonic.

"This is the finest medicine in the state, ma'am. I'm a healer, you know, a medical man!" He smiles, sick and twisted as he hands you the poison.

You take the glass from him with a smile, but it promptly falls as you drop the bottle and let it shatter all over the ground. A scowl etches onto your face as you nod for Arthur to grab the bastard.

"It's over, mister." Arthur grumbles, leaning forward and grabbing Albright's revolver from its holster. He tosses the weapon over the cliff ledge, and it falls down into the violent waters. Arthur unholsters his own gun, pointing it at Allbright. The fear of God enters Albright's eyes as he realizes he's been duped.

"What?!" Allbright hisses, backing away from Arthur. His back is almost on the rock wall, and he glances around for a way to escape.

"Apparently that stuff you're sellin' is killin' folk. I don't know, ain't my business." Arthur grumbles. He leans forward to grab Allbright's wrist, but the older man jumps away. He skips around the fire until his back is at the cliff's edge. You take a step closer to him.

"I'm a healer! I've got an aura, I speak to spirits!" Allbright yells, looking around for any escape route or a weapon, "I'm a–"

"a lunatic." You huff, rolling your eyes, "Give it up."

He backs away, heel dangerously close to the edge. One wrong move and he'll be down in the dangerous waters. Your heart rate picks up as you take another step forward.

"Careful, Star." Arthur warns, deeply.

"I'm a scientist, this is a mistake!" Allbright yells just as you reach out to grab onto his coat. It backfires, and he grips tightly onto your hair. You yelp as he pulls you against him. Your back is pulled tightly against Allbright's chest and something cold and sharp presses against your neck. You gasp as it knicks you, realizing he pulled a knife.

"I'll– I'll go over the edge and take her with me!" Allbright stutters and yells.

"Allbright!!" Arthur roars, stepping forward. the bounty steps back, and you whimper as rocks and gravel fall off the cliff's edge from his boots. Arthur steps back, hands up as his heart races. His eyes are locked onto yours.

"Let me go!" You hiss, but he presses the knife tighter against your throat. You have to strain your neck back against his chest to avoid the sharp blade.

"Goddammit, let her go, or I swear to god–" Arthur begins, panic thick in his voice. Allbright chuckles, realizing that he's in the position of power now.

"We can deal with this like men, leave the lady out of it." Arthur pleads, turning the barrel of his gun up towards the sky. Your nails dig into Albright's arm as you attempt to pull it away from your throat. You gasp, terrified. The thought of going down over the cliff sends your body into a panicked state, and your eyes beg Arthur to find a way out of this.

"I'm not going with you, bounty hunter!" Allbright hollers. His neck cranes around, looking down at the violent crash of waves below him. Arthur's eyes are wide as he extends a hand out to you. You try to grab it, but Allbright steps back, dragging you with him.

"I'll take my chances jumping." Allbright states.

"Arthur!" You yelp, right before Allbright drags you back once more.

Suddenly the ground is gone from below your feet. You feel yourself falling, and you scream for Arthur once more. You're not sure if you're going to die, you don't have much time to think about it, but you hope it won't be too painful if you do. The rocks below you are almost as threatening as the dark water. Your hands extend toward the sky, gripping and searching for anything to hang onto. Of course, there is nothing.

"Star!!" You hear Arthur roar from above, and your eyes slip shut in pain. You should've told him, should've said that you love him.

You hear Allbright splash into the water, and you know that it'll only be seconds until you crash. You squeeze your eyes shut, bracing for the impact.

An unimaginable pain courses through your body when you make contact with the water. It's like ice, causing your muscles to seize and contract painfully. The water's intensity causes you to flip and spin. You fight to swim to the top, but the river is carrying you downstream quickly and you're not sure which way is up. Your lungs burn in search of air, and you choke on water as you fight to breach the top.

It's a fight, but just as your vision begins to fill with white stars from lack of oxygen, you breach the surface. Your arms work to keep you afloat as you gasp and choke on air. There's too much water in your lungs and you can't breathe. Your movements are sluggish and exhausted, but you fight nonetheless.

The shore passes by quickly as the river carries you downstream. You try to scream for Arthur, but it comes out weak. The ice cold water makes your body rigid, and you struggle to keep yourself afloat.

"Stay up, keep fightin'!"

At the sound of Arthur's voice, you perk up. Your eyes scan the shore and lock onto Balius galloping down the rocky trail.

"I'm comin!" He yells. You try to take his instruction, really you do, but the water is so cold and you feel it pulling you down. You can barely hang on, arms burning from keeping yourself afloat.

"Grab on!" Arthur yells over the crashing water. Your wet eyelashes flutter open, and you see Arthur's lasso in the water ahead of you.

"Star, c'mon! You gotta grab on, please!" Arthur pleads. You stick your hand through the loop, and it tightens around your wrist. Water burns in your lungs as stars fill your vision and everything slowly fades to black.

— — — —

A rhythmic thumping pounds in your chest, wracking your entire body. Your eyes flutter open as you wake up, and you turn onto your side, retching up cold, salty water. You gasp for breath, coughing as Arthur's hands pull away from your chest to rub up and down your back.

"Shit, Star. I thought I lost you." Arthur's voice radiates from beside you, and your wet eyelashes flutter as you look up at him. You're splayed uncomfortably in the grass, and you pull your knees up to your chin as you shiver, gasping for air.

"Goddammit, I'm so sorry I brought ya up here." Arthur whispers, heart racing.

"I'm s-so c-cold." You whisper, teeth chattering loudly. Arthur's thumb runs over your cheek as he worriedly looks over your too pale face. Your lips are nearly blue, and wet strands of hair stick to your freezing skin.

"I know. I'll get you into town, but you gotta get out of these wet clothes lest you freeze on the way."

Arthur takes your hands, helping you to your feet. Your bones ache from being so cold and overworked, and when you look down you notice the rope burn searing on your left wrist from Arthur pulling you in. It all comes back to you then, and you glance at the crashing waters while Arthur rummages in Balius's saddle bags.

"Where's Allbright?" You whisper, and Arthur shakes his head.

"I don't know, n' I don't give a damn. I gotta get you fixed up." Arthur says, bringing you over a pile of clothes. They’re his, but they're all he has to work with.

"I'll take you into town n' get you a bath. If we stay out here, you'll freeze." Arthur grumbles, placing the clothes on the ground before coming up in front of you. His hands quickly work on the buttons of your shirt, and you lean into his touch, feeling the warmth of his hands against your frozen skin. You whimper, leaning against him to chase after his warmth.

"Christ, Star. You're freezin'."

He sounds worried. He is worried. You shake like a leaf as he pulls your shirt over your arms. The wet clothing hits the ground in a sop as he kneels on one knee to unbutton your jeans. He's not worried about modesty right now, Arthur is too panicked about your health.

You wiggle your toes in your boots and shudder, realizing that you can barely feel the movements. Teeth clack together loudly as Arthur strips you of your jeans, eyebrows pulled together in concern.

"I c-can't feel my t-toes." You whimper, worrying that you'll lose them or worse.

"You just hang on, just– I'll get you there. I will." It's a promise more to himself than to you. He pulls his oversized clothes over your trembling body, adding his thick blue coat to your shoulders before scooping you up wedding style. You yelp at the action as he helps you onto Balius's saddle.

"Be good for me, boy. We gotta ride quick now." Arthur coos to his stallion before mounting up behind you. Your head lulls back against Arthur's chest as his arms wrap around you to grab the reins. At the mention of Balius, your eyes pop open wider and you search around for your mare.

"Athena…" You whisper, just barely a breath. Arthur whistles sharply, and a whinny rings out alongside the sound of hooves. You relax at her call, knowing she'll follow Balius.

You can barely keep your eyes open as Arthur pushes Balius into a gallop. Arthur doesn't like it one bit, knowing that your best chance is to keep your eyes open.

"Don't go fallin' asleep on me now. We'll be there soon." Arthur attempts a smile for your sake, but the worry in his voice is thick.

You fight against every instinct to keep your eyes open. It would be so much easier to give in and let them fall shut. For Arthur's sake, you keep trying.

"Look for Allbright…" You exhale quietly, "He c-could be on the shore."

Arthur isn't surprised by your suggestion. Of course you haven't given up on the bounty. For you, he scans the shore, but it's your eyes that eventually lock on to the blue suited man. He's washed up on the shore, coughing and sputtering.

"Goddamn you, bounty hunters!" Allbright yells at the sight of Arthur and you riding forward. Arthur's attention peaks to Allbright then, and a growl rumbles in his chest.

"Get the bastard." You whisper, too weak to let out the hiss you want to. Arthur makes sure you're good and steady in the saddle before he dismounts. His hands rest on your thigh as he looks up to you.

"Y'okay to sit without me? We can leave him here and get you to a–" Arthur begins before you interject.

"I'm okay, just get him n' put him on Athena."

At your words, Arthur obliges, though he thinks it to be a damn stupid idea. He flips his gun out of his holster and swings it down over Allbright's head. The bastard is knocked out cold. His many layers and heavier stature seemed to have protected him mostly from the freezing water. Arthur doesn't give a damn about the man, only you. He whistles for Athena to step a little closer and hoists the bounty over her back behind the saddle.

"Is Allbright gonna be okay?" You whisper, gripping onto Arthur tightly as he quickly climbs into Balius's saddle.

"I ain't worried 'bout him." Arthur replies as he smacks the reins down over Balius's neck. He rides fast, galloping over the hills as fast as Balius can carry you both in the night. Your hands grow colder, stiffening around Arthur's jacket and making it harder to grip onto to. He notices this, of course, and his heart beats quicker. Your eyelids are heavy, the overwhelming, hardening cold creeping up your spine and down your bones. Everything stiffens and hurts, making the ride to Valentine a painful one. You yelp, wincing, and Arthur's arm tightens around you

"Oh, baby, just hang on. We're almost there." Arthur whispers, despair thick in his voice.

Arthur gets you there as quickly as he can manage, apologizing to you and Balius the whole way. You're both glad it's after dark once you arrive in town, as you still have a mighty price on your heads after the fiasco with Cornwall. Arthur ducks his head, keeping his eyes under his hat as he trots towards the hotel. Athena is right behind you both, still carrying Allbright.

"How you feelin', darlin'?" Arthur whispers, pulling Balius up to the hitching post in front of the All Saints Hotel. You groan in response. The cold has seeped into your bones, tightening your muscles uncomfortably. Your muscles twitch and cramp under your frozen skin, and your toes and fingers are numb.

"Tired." You admit, just over a whisper. Your eyes have fallen shut and you're leaning fully against Arthur's back at this point. You can hear his heart beating a few paces too fast with worry. He turns in the saddle and places a hand on your thigh to steady you before sliding down from his stallion. He hitches both horses, and turns to you.

"C'mere." He calls up to you, hands up stretched to grab your waist. Arthur pulls you into his arms wedding style. You wince at every jolt as he carries you up the few stairs towards the hotel. You get a glance over Arthur's shoulder and see Allbright, still heaved over Athena's rump. Your eyebrows furrow as you look up at Arthur.

"What about…" You take a deep breath, struggling to keep yourself awake, "Allbright?"

Arthur readjusts you in his arms, turning around to push the door open with his back.

"He ain't wakin' up anytime soon. I'll deal with him once I get you taken care of." Arthur replies, stepping backwards through the threshold before turning to the usual clerk. The man's eyes go wide as he takes in your state.

"You got a bath drawn up?" Arthur asks, walking towards the hallway where the bathhouse is. He doesn't stop, carrying you down the hall as the clerk worriedly hollers 'Yes!' from behind you.

Arthur pushes the door open with his back again, carrying you into the bathhouse. The bath is filled with steaming water, and you practically whimper at the sight of warmth. Arthur carefully places you on your feet, steadying you for a second with his hands on your shoulders. He eyes you up and down, making sure you're steady.

"Y'okay to stand?" He asks as you sway slightly. You nod, and he steps away for a moment to grab a washcloth and a bar of soap from the little wooden table by the door. He places both on the small wooden slat overtop the bath as you attempt to pull Arthur's oversized clothes off of your body. Your numb fingers pull at the buttons, but they're too frozen to properly grasp the little articles.

Arthur turns back to you, and in two long strides, he's in front of you again, brushing your hands away.

"Let me." He murmurs, eyes downcast as he focuses on each button. He rids you of the shirt quickly, noticing the way your skin feels like ice. It only encourages his worry, and he works faster to unclothe you.

Once you're bare before him, Arthur's hands find purchase on the small of your back and your arm, helping to steady you as you step into the tub. You grimace when your toe hits the water. The cold state of your skin makes the hot water feel boiling, it's downright painful.

"I know, darlin', but it's the fastest way to warm you up." Arthur says, noticing your hesitation. You nod, stepping one leg into the hot water. It's painful, but bearable. Arthur lets you grip onto him as you lower yourself into the bath, groaning at the fiery sensation that ripples across your skin.

"There you go." He whispers as you finally sit down fully. Your teeth chatter, and you pull your knees up to your chest in the sudsy water. Now it's just a waiting game.

Arthur sits on the ground by your side, hand resting over yours on the lip of the tub. He watches you closely, taking note of your breathing and shivering. His thumb runs over your knuckles and you smile for it, but it's brief. You're still shivering, and goosebumps prick your skin all over. It's nothing short of miserable, and while the warm water has helped, you're too far gone for it to fully bring your temperature back to normal.

Your eyes flutter open at the sound of clothes hitting the floor, and when you glance over,Arthur is pulling his jeans down over his legs.

"Arthur…?" You ask, brow furrowing lightly.

"I can't just sit and do nothin' no more. It's killin' me seein' you like this." Arthur explains, "Scooch forward for me, sweetheart."

You grip the sides of the metal tub, pulling yourself forward, just enough for Arthur to slide into the bath behind you. The mass of his body entering the tub causes water to spill out over the edges, but he doesn’t mind. He’ll slip the working ladies a few extra bucks for the mess. A large forearm wraps around your middle, and Arthur pulls your back flush against his chest in the water. His legs line yours, bodies fitting together like perfect pieces of a puzzle.

“Better?” Arthur whispers, eyes worried as he splashes water over your shoulders with your hands. Guilt is eating him alive– Should he have let you come along? Did he get you here fast enough?

You nod, easing his worries some. After a few moments, his body heat begins to work, melting the ice that clings to your frozen skin. Your shivers reduce to slight chills, and your lips turn from a sickening shade of blue back to that familiar pink.

“Y’know, if you wanted to see me naked again, you coulda just asked,” You shiver, “Didn’t need to have Allbright throw me in the river.” You smirk, wit never leaving you, not even in dire situations.

“I’ll keep that in mind, darlin.” Arthur whispers, resting his chin atop your head, “You just warm up now, you hear?” His hands run up and down your arms as you nod, leaning fully back against him. His chest radiates a warmth that the water never could, and you groan as your body temperature begins to raise.

“You think Allbright’s okay out there?” You whisper, remembering that he’s currently strapped to Balius’s croup. Arthur chuckles from behind you.

“Hope not– the bastard can rot for all I care.” Arthur huffs.

“Arthur.” You chastise lightly, hand intertwining with his under the murky water. The chuckle in his throat dies down, allowing the air to become thick with unsaid words.

“Almost lost ya…” Arthur whispers. His eyes are far away, there's a lump in his throat.

You almost died.

“I’m okay, Arthur.” You reassure, squeezing his hand for good measure. He brings your intertwined hands up to his lips, kissing your knuckles. He holds the kiss for a moment longer than he needs to.

“Stay that way.”

It’s a small plea, a few words, but a big admission. You’ve snuck your way into his heart, and he’ll be damned if the universe tries to pull you away now. He’ll do anything to keep you safe– a facet of information that’s beginning to haunt him.

What will it take–?

What does that entail?

It's something he’s been meaning to bring up for awhile. You’ve both had more near death experiences than any two people ever should.

Arthur presses a kiss to your wet hair, humming lightly as he thinks over what the future may hold. He’ll bring it up. But first, you just need to rest.

taglist: @margofiore @mrsarthurmorgan7 @woman-with-no-name @tillith @luvliewriting @pine4pple-b0i @photo1030 @dudsparrow @holyratrimony

series taglist: @catnotbread @chxosangxl @globetrotter28 @justalittlerayofpitchblack @fruittiest-of-loops @randomidk-123 @heyworld-whatsup @btsiguess-kpop @how-the-heck-would-i-know @rratman @eyelovie @mykneeshurt @myhomethesea @onedaymyhappinesswillcome

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #rdr2 #rdr2 arthur #red dead redemption two #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan x female reader #rdr2 fandom #tfiye

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coffee-in-veins · 19 days ago

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Chapters: 38/? Fandom: Darkest Dungeon (Video Game) Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death Relationships: Crusader/Highwayman (Darkest Dungeon), Reymas, background Jester/Leper (Darkest Dungeon), Minor or Background Relationship(s) Characters: Highwayman (Darkest Dungeon), Crusader (Darkest Dungeon), Jester (Darkest Dungeon), Leper (Darkest Dungeon), Plague Doctor (Darkest Dungeon), Occultist (Darkest Dungeon), Heir (Darkest Dungeon), Grave Robber (Darkest Dungeon), multiple background OC heroes Additional Tags: Non-Linear Narrative, Established Relationship, Denial of Feelings, Fluff and Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Mutual Pining, Sexual Tension, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Survivor Guilt, Drug Abuse, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Self-Loathing, Self-Disregard, Self-Harm, Trauma, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, therapy isn't invented yet, Body Horror, Crimson Curse actually mutates people into bloodsuckers, social segregation, Canon-Typical Violence, Mutilation, Period-Typical Homophobia, this is still Gaylet though, Character Death, i mean it's DD character death is expected here, Dismas creative and explicit cussing, Implied Sexual Content, explicit sexual content in future chapters, Social drama, Religious Bigotry, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change, no beta we die like seekers in DD1, Crimson curse (Darkest Dungeon), i'm in reymas hell and it's cozy in here Series: Part 1 of Nowhereland’s Apocrypha Summary:

I do not consent to having my work uploaded onto lore.fm or any similar app with similar functionality or to having my work re-uploaded by anyone else or used for any AI related fuckupery If I will find my work on any of those or similar apps, I will take it as a sign that my works are not needed by my readers and will delete all of them and will not upload any new stories ===

Ruin came to Hamlet, and a new incurable plague sweeps across the lands, turning people into monsters and blurring the line between friend and foe. Amidst the tangled thread of inner fighting, religious hysterics and double-crossing intended to keep the feeble peace, an odd dance takes place: one step forward and two to the side, as a supposedly unbreakable relationship between two unlikely "dearest friends" hobbles time after time over the stumbling stone of their feelings towards each other. But this dance of affection, desires, devotion and lies, however pleasurable and painful, can't last forever. Yet another eldritch horror descends upon surrounding lands, leaving both men wishing that they were if not straight, then at least straightforward with each other from the start.

=== Updates every two weeks, on Tuesday

#restructured refractured recalled #dd crusader #dd highwayman #dismas #reynauld #reymas #fanfic #fan fiction #darkest dungeon #the tapestries of words || my ao3 #the bloodied journal page || my writing

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coffee-in-veins · 2 years ago

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sorry to hijack your reply, but i wanted to add it, and i thought you might be interested to hear this:

fun fact, but this line could’ve also been a veiled threat! or a self compliment, but in a slightly another light than his overconfidence in his skills. it can be seen as a statement about his body.

bakers in medieval times had to do type of manual work that required a lot of upper body and back strength specifically - chopping firewood for baking ovens, carrying flour and water, carrying baked goods to the customers, and especially kneading dough by hand while being bent over the bread trough. kneading dough in the trough is extremely labour intensive and hard (in part because of the bent over part, which impacts the breathing), and only a very physically trained person could do it for the needed periods of time without switching with other people or taking breaks.

considering Tardif loves to specifically punch people or pull them - both activities relying on upper body strength (yes, both need strong legs too, but you won’t punch good if only your calves and quads are in shape) - he would’ve made a really fine baker because his body is already heavily trained and durable in the same muscle groups.

also, bakers needed to know the measurements, which would’ve helped in not getting scammed during pay - and they knew plenty of ways of scamming people themselves, which would’ve worked for cunning molars hunter too.

hope you don’t mind to have this addition ^^

Im new to Darkest Dungeon, where did everyone get the idea that Tardif bakes from

it's from this irrational bark!

obv the nature of the game means that this doesn't 100% confirm that tardif bakes (irrational barks in particular are always a little suspect), it could mean that he only thinks he'd be good at it.

personally i think it's a cute character detail that suits him <3 patience, attention to detail, and a keen eye are the traits of both a fine baker and a ferocious bounty hunter

#darkest dungeon #dd bounty hunter #tardif #i've read too much about medieval food preparation and i want to share #Leave nothing unchecked || references #the bloodied journal page || my writing

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roll-of-royces · 1 year ago

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Troy Otto Relationship Headcanons

Because of course, this boi lives in my head rent free all the time here are a few relationship things I think he would absolutely do:

- lets you wear his clothes and makes aggressive eye contact at anyone who notices - knows exactly how you like your tea and coffee - has pages of notes about you in his journal - gives you weird gifts (weapons, survival gear, a jar of algae) - always sleeps closest to the door so he can protect you - loves to share pointless facts - gets really fired up when you kill walkers and likes to say things like "that's my girl!" or "look at him go!" - gives you food from his portions that he knows you like - will beat someone bloody for upsetting you, touching you, looking at you funny - constantly observes what you are doing even if it's nothing important - remembers small things about you to use later (such as your favorite color, animal, preferred writing utensil, etc) - likes to give you piggy-back rides - opens up to you about how he's feeling and his troubled past - gives you his jacket if it's even remotely cold - gave you a rabbit's foot charm for your birthday - taught you how to drive manual, laughing whenever you made a mistake - is always surprised when you remember something about him or do something remotely nice, as if it's a much bigger deal than it is - really dramatically opens jars for you - is startled every time you randomly kiss him - over plans holidays/your birthday because he wants everything to go well - aftercare, aftercare, aftercare - always finds a way to touch you (ankle under the table, hand holding, palm at the small of your back, arm around your shoulders)

#fear the walking dead #troy otto #ftwd #troy otto is best boi

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trailandkale · 5 months ago

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august! “The light in the trees full of fury!” and humidity in the air full of impact! the last summer month. I’m not ready. I want to scream. I want to run around in circles. I want a good sunburn. A tall drink. I want sweat and aching muscles and happy smiles. A big storm, strange skies, cracking thunder. A big book and nowhere to be. I want a cool breeze and to mosey around outside like a kid out of school. I want my toes in the nearest water. I want to bike on an adventure with a friend and spend a day writing pages in my journal. I want to draw under trees and pick ants off my ankles. I want to eat an entire watermelon and a whole bowl of cherries, bloody, breathless and dripping. Count fireflies and wish on stars and play with flowers. I want to match the last summer month blow for blow. I want it to linger.

#i want to run seven miles #something I wrote the other day and left in my drafts.#Sorry I’m not much for interacting right now. I log on and post one thing then run away.

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seasoned-siffrin · 2 years ago

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hi hi hi!!! I hope you're having an awesome day/night

i have a request!!

how about EJ x a self-harming reader? Or when he catches the reader self-harming?

Sure thing! I hope I portrayed Eyeless Jack well here, this is only my second time writing him! I’ve also never written smth like this either so we ballin’ tonight boys

Eyeless Jack x self-harming Reader

TW: self-harm and implied suicidal thoughts.

Word Count: 1197

Let’s face it, empathy was never Eyeless Jack’s strong suit. When other people were in pain, he felt content, practically pleased, with their anguish. More recently though, he noticed a shift. Not with everyone, but one specific person. Someone he had never felt much towards besides companionship. Someone who showed him a kindness he didn’t feel he could properly reciprocate until now.

You.

He noticed the way you sat uncomfortably at the table, your thighs lifted off of the chair. Or the small flinch you tried desperately to hide when someone would grasp onto your arm to lead you along. You didn’t want him to know, but he knew, and he didn’t know exactly what to do about it. Communication was yet another thing that he wasn’t familiar with. Whether it be trying to tell you that your shoe was untied, or asking you to provide him some company while he worked, it was difficult for him. So, how could he even begin to figure out how to ask you about your feelings?

“You’re awfully quiet today.” You said in an attempt to be funny, entering Jack’s room like you lived there. You practically did. “What’re you up to?”

Jack lifted up the journal he held in his large hand before plopping it back down on his lap. He was sitting on his bed, legs folded beneath him, and messing around in his journal while he winded down for the day. You plopped down beside him, leaning over to peer at the page- to no avail, as he pushed your head away gently.

“C’mon, Jack, no secrets! Remember?”

Ironic, he thought, but offered the page to you anyway. If he expected openness, he should provide it first. He watched as your eyes wandered over the page, pleased with the scribbled notes and doodles that littered it, before you met his hollow sockets. “Masterpieces, per usual.” You laughed softly, patting Jack’s shoulder before leaning away from him again.

Jack would’ve rolled his eyes if he had any. He closed the journal and sat it beside him, then turned to face you completely. He did a quick scan over you, out of habit, to make sure nothing was amiss. That’s when he saw it. Your sleeve had rolled up slightly, and exposed the fresh wounds trailed up your arm from the underside of your wrist. Rather than averted his gaze like most people would likely do, Jack honed in on it. He reached out, grasping onto your hand with a gentle hold and lifting your arm up curiously.

You felt your stomach drop, and your heart practically stopped as your breathing ceased. For a moment, you were frozen. You felt gutted from the inside as you watched your friend, your closest ally, your crush take in the sight of what you’d done to yourself.

Life had not been easy for you. Of course, no one in that old, decrepit, cobweb-ridden mansion had a good life. You would be no exception, obviously, because it’s bullshit like that that landed you on this path. You’d endured it long enough, you’d tried to stay strong long enough, to the point that you barely felt like yourself anymore. It was like you were someone else entirely, someone fake, someone too perfect to be real, and the facade snapped in the form of bloody bed sheets and tear-stained pillows. Smashed mirrors and 2 hour long showers consisting of anything but actual hygiene.

You didn’t want anyone to know. God forbid someone worry about you, or even feel like there could be a reason to. This was your suffering. Your pain. No one else should have to carry this burden with you, especially not the only person you had left to come back to. The only person that was keeping you here.

You ripped your arm out of Jack’s grasp, even though there really wasn’t any strength behind the careful grip on your hand, and threw yourself off of his bed. “Jesus Christ!” You hissed, panic surging through your veins. “And you lecture me about personal space!”

Jack didn’t move from where he sat, watching you and fixing you with a cool stare through empty holes in his mask. He lifted his hands, signing a simple question.

‘Why?’

A small head tilt followed.

You stood there in his room, clutching onto the sleeve you yanked back over the wounds, and staring back down at the man before you. Disbelief rang in the air. Only from you. “What do you mean why?” You attempted. “Life.. fucking sucks? I dunno what to tell you.”

Jack simply shook his head. He gestured to his bed and wordlessly offered for you to sit back down. You dreaded the following minutes. Would Jack attempt to make you feel bad for what you did? Would he sign your fucking eyes out would lecture upon lecture about how you shouldn’t choose this coping mechanism? About how many people supposedly love you, how many people would supposedly miss you?

Honestly, it didn’t matter. You’d rather be here than be alone. With an exasperated sigh, you sat yourself back down on his bed. Instead of any of the many options you had been cycling through in your head, Jack chose something entirely different. He uncrossed his legs and bent down, reaching beneath his bed and pulled out the old makeup bag he had filled with medical supplies. Being one of the few pastas with medical knowledge, he was socially appointed as the “school nurse.”

He put the bag in his lap, unzipped it, and pulled out some supplies. Alcohol, cotton balls, bandaids, ointment, and bandages. He put the bag back on the ground and turned to you. He put his hand out expectantly.

Your eyebrows furrowed as you assessed the scene before you. He wanted to help. You expected that much, people always wanted to help, but usually they offered meaningless words and promises they couldn’t keep. Jack offered something else: Care. You slowly rolled your sleeve back and placed your arm in his hand, receiving a curt nod and a strange sound from the man across from you.

The alcohol stung when he applied it. The burning lingered, and you felt uncomfortable with the familiar feeling. Then he dabbed the ointment on each and every little cut, shallow and deep, long and short, old and fresh. The fresher ones received a bandaid, and after that, your arm was being wrapped up firmly. A squeeze, a hug almost, to your arm. You weren’t going to show him the rest of your body, as this was enough for now. Enough to… get the point across.

Someone did care about you. Someone who didn’t have to say it for you to know it. Still, you couldn’t help yourself. Just like Jack, you asked a question you already knew the answer to.

“Why?”

Jack tapped your bandaged arm lightly before placing it down on your lap. He lifted his hand up to your face, gently cupping your cheek, and rubbing his thumb against your skin gingerly. “I get it. Life, you know?” He murmured. “It sucks, but it can suck a little less sometimes. If you let it.”

#writing requests #eyeless jack #ej x reader #tw sh related #creepypasta #fanfic #oneshot

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celestiall0tus · 8 months ago

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Tales of Bloody Bug and Chat Noir - Chapter 26 - Reverser and the Return of Evillustrator

Beginning || Previous || Next

Alix stared up at a blank wall. She tossed a spray paint can in her hand as she raked her brain with ideas. She felt eyes burn into her that flared her annoyance. She sneered under her mask and latched onto it. She put the can down and reached for the red. She covered the blank canvas in it before she went for the black and tagged the red canvas.

“Well, this is… something, Miss Kubdel,” Mr. Monlataing said.

“Is there a problem with it? I thought art was supposed to be an expression of the soul,” Alix countered.

“It is, but why is your soul so angry? Violent even.”

“A long list that I don’t have the patience, energy, or fucks to give to go through it.”

“I see. And just how long have you been penting up all this rage?”

“Why do you care?”

“Because it’s hurting you, isn’t it?”

Alix tsked. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Alix-,” Mr. Monlataing started.

“Excuse me. Mr. Monlataing? Can I get your input on this?” Nathaniel asked.

“Hmm? Oh, yes. What do you have here, Nathaniel?”

Alix glanced over at the recent page of Nathaniel’s Bloody Bug and Chat Noir comic. She noticed a new character that looked exactly like when Nathaniel was Evillustrator.

“It’s Bloody Bug and Chat Noir teaming up with their latest companion, MightyIllustrator,” Nathaniel said.

“You mean Evillustrator?” Alix asked.

“He changed his name after Bloody Bug saved him. Now he fights for justice.”

“A bad guy that becomes a good guy. I like it. You’re getting better at your storytelling.”

“Too bad the rest of his writing sucks,” Alix remarked.

“Miss Kubdel, I’ll allow a lot of things in my class, but we don’t bring down other artists. We must give them the confidence to continue their craft,” Mr. Monlataing scolded.

“And when does that encouragement feed into arrogance? Do we stop then, or do we keep going until we have an insufferable monster?”

“Sounds like someone is projecting,” Nathaniel retorted.

Alix snarled. She reared back her arm and threw the spray paint can she had, but Mr. Monlataing caught it.

“Alix, I think you should head to the counselor. Whatever is going on is clearly eating away at you. I think you should talk to someone who will listen.”

Alix opened her mouth when Rose ran over.

“Mr. Monlataing, I have a better idea to help calm Alix,” Rose said.

“Oh, this gonna be good. What do you have that could help me?” Alix mocked.

Rose smiled, took her headphones off, and put them on Alix. Alix opened her mouth to complain until she heard the rock music playing. Alix snorted, rolled her shoulders, and took a seat on the floor. Rose took a seat next to Alix and scribbled on the notepad, then showed it to Alix. Alix tilted her head as she read it.

I’m sorry, but I had asked Adrien if you were ok. You have been angrier these past few weeks. He didn’t say much, just that you needed time to dwell and not talk about it. I don’t understand what is going on, but I’m here to help in any way I can.

Alix’s face softened as she smiled. ‘Thank you,’ she mouthed.

Alix leaned against Rose and Rose leaned against Alix. Rose wrote down song lyrics while Alix watched the room. Mr. Monlataing went around the room, checking on everyone and their projects when a new kid peeked in through the door. Marinette ran up and dragged the guy in and introduced him to Mr. Monlataing, then Nathaniel. Alix watched them until the guy ran out.

Alix hummed, curious of what that was about, but ignored it. She jammed out to the music until she saw Marinette return with a black journal. She raised a brow when Marinette erased something in it, then gave it to Nathaniel. She furrowed her brows as Nathaniel lost himself to the book. She took off the headphones to confront him when the bell rang. She growled and handed the headphones back to Rose.

“Thanks again.”

“Alix, would you like to join Mylene and me on a walk after school? It’s been a while since we’ve talked. But only if you want to.”

Alix considered then nodded. “Ok. I’ll see you after school.”

Alix headed out to her next class. She moved through the rest of the day on autopilot as has been her norm for the past few weeks. It worked well enough until someone annoyed her, which wasn’t hard to do. She didn’t like how easily agitated she could be, but it was the price of all this. If she was to get to the root of her problems, she needed to face it alone. No amount of talking was going to help her.

The final bell rang, and Alix made her way outside. She waited until Mylene, Rose, and Ivan joined her. She was hugged by Mylene and Rose while she fist bumped Ivan. Mylene and Rose each grabbed one of her arms and dragged her along as Ivan followed.

“I hope we weren’t going for a long walk. It’s really cold now,” Alix remarked.

“Oh, not at all. Just a short one. We wanted to hang out with you and, well, make sure you’re alright,” Mylene said.

“I’m not, but I appreciate it.”

“Adrien said you didn’t want to talk about it. Why is that?” Rose asked.

“I… it’s stupid.”

“C’mon, Alix, nothing is stupid,” Ivan encouraged.

“Fine. Look, I… I want to get better, but I can’t. There’s this… issue at my core that has a death hold on me. I’m trying to get to the root of it, to confront it, but whenever I talk, I feel like I’m running away from it. I can’t let that happen anymore. So, I’m not going to talk as it festers so I can reach it.”

“But look at what you’re doing to yourself, Alix,” Rose chided.

“Something needs to be done, Rose. I need to get to the root of all this. My anger, my trauma, everything. Talking hasn’t helped, so I’m not talking anymore until I figure it out.”

“Alix, you’re going to self-destruct if you do that. And when that happens, Hawkmoth will make you his pawn like he did with all of us,” Ivan warned.

Rose and Mylene nodded.

Alix stopped and turned on her heel to face Ivan, Rose, and Mylene. “Do not put me in the same group as you lot. There is nothing Hawkmoth could offer me that would convince me to become a villain. At least, no more than I already am.”

“Alix, you’re not-!” Rose started.

“Don’t lie, Rose. I know better. I’m a little monster. I don’t need an Akuma to make me one. I’ve done nothing but hurt and turn on the people that try to get close to me. And when I think I’ve let someone in, they turn around and betray me. I just… there’s just no point. I’m a monster and that’s that. Nothing will change that.”

Rose, Mylene, and Ivan all exchanged glances while Alix trudged on ahead. They followed behind her as they arrived at Places des Vosages. Alix glanced over to see Nathaniel and the new guy from earlier. She looked away, then back at them as Nathaniel held up the black book and tore apart the pages, devastating the other guy.

Alix’s eyes widened as red threatened her vision. Her attempts to fight it were in vain as she caved to the rage. She turned into the park and up to Nathaniel. She pushed him down as he tried to leave.

“Hey! What’s the big-!” Nathaniel yelled.

Alix grabbed Nathaniel’s coat and pulled him up to her face. “You fucking bastard! What did you do?”

“I don’t see why you’re yelling at me. That fraud toyed with my feelings with his stupid scribbles. Then has the gall to want to work on my comic with me.”

“That’s not true. Marinette said she’d help me, but I didn’t want to do this because of this exact reason. Everything is ruined now,” the guy said.

Alix’s temper wavered seeing the guy’s distress before it ignited again as she glared down at Nathaniel. “You are nothing more than an arrogant little fucking bitch. You are the fraud here, not that poor boy. I think you need to cool the fuck down, bitch!”

Ivan, Mylene, and Rose yelled out for Alix to stop, but she ignored them. She grabbed Nathaniel’s arm and threw him over her into the fountain, soaking him to the bone in the freezing air. Mylene and Rose stepped between Alix and Nathaniel while Ivan helped him out. Marinette came running to help Nathaniel.

Alix took several deep breaths as she glared at Nathaniel. Memories resurfaced and mingled with the present as she saw Nathaniel as she once saw Chloe, beaten, bloody, and battered. Her rage shifted to terror as tears fell from her eyes, her heartbeat quickened, and her breathing came in short, rapid gasps. She turned and ran away. She heard them call her, but she ignored them. It happened again. She told herself she wouldn’t let it happen again, and she did. She had to get away to keep the others safe from the monster that refused to be caught.

Adrien arrived home and headed up to his room as he got a call from Rose. He raised a brow and answered it.

“Hey, Rose, what’s up?”

“Oh, Adrien! Thank goodness. Alix is missing! Something happened, she got mad, and then she ran off and we don’t know where she is!”

Adrien’s eyes widened as he heard yelling in the background between multiple parties. He opened his mouth when he heard screams tearing through the air.

“Rose? What’s going on?” Adrien demanded.

“There’s a pair of-!”

The line cut off.

“That’s no good. Plagg, Stompp, we have to go. Plagg, claws out!”

Plagg disappeared into the ring and transformed Adrien. Chat Noir jumped out the window and searched the city for the villains when he came across a guy in a black and white outfit riding a personal paper airplane.

“Who are you?”

“I’m Reverser. You’re a strong, fearless hero, but not for long.”

Chat Noir’s eyes widened as Reverser summoned a small, black paper airplane. He readied to attack it when a green shield came in and destroyed it.

“What the-?” Reverser yelled.

The green shield rebounded and knocked Reverser off his ride. Chat Noir beamed when he saw Carapace.

“Perfect timing, dude!” Chat Noir yelled.

“Always, my dude. Where’s his Akuma?”

Chat Noir looked down at Reverser’s ride. He grabbed and broke it, releasing the Akuma. He activated Cataclysm and destroyed the Akuma.

“Carapace, can you bring the boy that Reverser was. I believe him to be one of a set of Akumas.”

“Uh, I can, but I need to help some dudettes out first. One of their friends ran away and they can’t find her.”

“Is it Alix?”

“Yeah. How’d you know?”

“Because that’s part of why I’m out here. It was also in response to the Akumas.”

“Heard. Well, let’s look together.”

“I actually know where she’d be.”

“What? Then lead the way. Let’s go.”

“Give me a minute. I need to recharge.”

“Oh. Right. Go on, dude. I got the Reverser boy. Just don’t take too long.”

“Don’t worry, I didn’t plan on it.”

Alix lay curled up on the freezing ground of her mother’s grave. Tears froze to her face and sealed her eyes closed. Tikki and Ziggy tried to get rid of the ice, but she swiped them away.

“Alix, please, you need to get home, or transform. You’ll die in the cold,” Tikki squeaked.

“I don’t care,” Alix muttered.

“What? What did you say?” Tikki gasped.

“I. Don’t. Care. I lost it again. I hurt someone again. The monster came back out and retreated before I could stop it. All because I am that monster.”

“That’s not true. You were caught in a moment of passion. You defended that poor writer from that awful red-haired boy. You weren’t a monster. You were a hero.”

“But a hero doesn’t hurt people. A monster hurts people. And you can’t say if it’s for a good cause, then it doesn’t matter. The means never justify the ends. And in the end, I was a monster.”

“I stand by what I said, that’s not true. You are a passionate person, and passion burns bright. Sometimes too bright, yeah, but bright nonetheless. You did the right thing.”

“No, I didn’t, and nothing will change that.”

“But-!” Tikki started.

“Just go. Leave me alone.”

Tikki and Ziggy exchanged glances before they crawled into Alix’s hood.

“We’re not going anywhere,” Ziggy stated.

“That’s right. We’re here and you can’t get rid of us,” Tikki said.

Alix opened her mouth, but let out a choked gasp when Evillustrator grabbed her and thrust her up.

“There you are. I’ve been looking for you, Alix,” Evillustrator hissed.

“Nathaniel?”

“Not anymore. Evillustrator is back, and I’m here to make you pay for your insults.”

Alix’s breath caught. Evillustrator’s threat struck her but filled her with sickening hope. Bile rose to her throat as the promise of seeing her mother crossed her mind. She tried to fight it off, to live, but the desire consumed her. She let her body go limp as she stopped fighting him.

“Make me pay,” Alix begged.

“Oh, I will, but only in a way fitting a monster like you.”

Evillustrator threw Alix over his shoulder and headed back to Place des Vosages. He scared off the people in the park as he erased it and replaced it with a giant fountain.

“Let’s see how much you like being plunged into ice cold water in the middle of winter.”

Evillustrator threw Alix into the bone-chilling waters. Alix’s body seized up as the cold shocked her entire system. She stared blankly up at the dim winter sun as she lost the feeling in her entire body. Darkness closed in around as the water vanished and she felt herself on solid ground. She saw the figures of Chat Noir, Gallic Chick, Porcelet, and Carapace. They yelled at each other until an Akuma slipped by them and into Alix’s wristwatch. Their yells were drowned up and replaced with the voice of Hawkmoth.

“Timebreaker, I am Hawkmoth. You face death, but it need not be like this. You can reset everything back to the moment with your mother. You can save her and see her once again. All I ask in return is Bloody Bug and Chat Noir’s miraculous.”

Alix spurted and coughed. “I don’t… need you. I’ll see my mom soon… in death.”

“What? You can’t-!”

“I’ll see… I’ll see her soon. Good-bye, little butterfly.”

Alix let out a gasp and her body went still.

Alix opened her eyes to a dark road with little light. She roamed around it until a blinding light shone brightly. She shielded her eyes and blinked against it. It faded as her mother’s spirit stood across from her.

“Mom!” Alix called.

Alix ran down the road to her mother, but slowed when she neared her. A lump caught up in her seeing the disappointment and sorrow in her mother’s face.

“I’m here. We’re together. Everything is as it should be.”

Alix’s mother shed an ethereal tear as she looked away.

“Wait, please! I miss you. I need you. Please, don’t leave me!”

Alix’s mother ignored Alix’s pleas, walked into the darkness, and vanished.

Alix cried out and reached for where her mother’s spirit once stood. She was stopped as she heard the crow of a rooster. She turned as a majestic, fiery rooster wrapped its wings around her and pulled her back to the world of the living.

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