#walk softly yet carry a big stick

[spiritualityloves247]

https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=9CtkaYEbVTY&si=gD7huje-2wWwi3y5

Hes so beautiful

[stvrnzcherries]

› WHEELS ON THE BUS

m. sturniolo x fem!reader

summary: You and Matt have always been best friends, you never felt something else but an incident while you both were in a road trip together might change that.

warnings: soft dom!matt, smut, pet names, use of y/n, foreplay, p in v, degrading kink, sort of breeding kink, edging, bulging, swearing, semi-public sex, unprotected sex (don't).

word count: 3.8k

a/n: After MONTHS of being a lazy ass and also after a TIGHTT week of anxiety, I’m back and better than ever 🤍 expect more coming soon, I appreciate y’all.

Based on this request!

The cold breeze tingled Matt’s skin, sending shivers down his spine as he kept piling up everyone’s bags inside the car truck, the blue hour of the sky created this dark yet comforting panoramic view of it.

A voice in the distance caught his attention “Wait up!” You taunt, running down to your best friend as a heavy bag carried behind you. You agreed a few days ago to go on this trip with Matt and his family since he was practically begging you to spend an entire week with him; even though he knew you hated the beach, you hated feeling sticky or feeling a singular drop of sweat on your skin, being in heated places was a thing that always drove you to the edge and you would get in a bad mood the whole day because of it.

It was just too excruciating, but you accepted just because your best friend didn't want to spend an entire week without you yet he liked seeing you suffer since he had always known your hatred towards the beach.

“Here ya go,” You said as you lifted the bag with all the strength you had and handed it to Matt, he just looked at you, a cocky smile forming on his lips as he placed your bag on the last spot in the trunk. “You excited?” Matt asked, closing the trunk before his eyes returned to bore into yours waiting for an answer, “If you mean I'm excited about torturing myself an entire week on the beach, then yeah.” You replied sarcastically gaining a chuckle from him, “It’ll be fun, I promise.” He said, patting your head gently.

“I highly doubt that being in the hottest weather ever is fun, Matthew.” You said, sticking your tongue out, he just chuckled and messed your hair a bit, his hand gently moving to cup your cheek as he pinched it delicately, “Thank you for coming either way.” He smiled gently and you returned it.

The eye contact lasted for a few seconds before the lousy voice of Chris caught each other’s attention, you both turned around to see him walking towards you “Time to hit the road!” He says with a big smile as he places his arm around you, he looks at Matt and then at me, “Are you guys ready?” He asked to which you replied with, “Heck yeah! Let’s hit the road!” A bright smile smeared your face as you, Matt, and Chris made your way to the backseats.

When Chris stopped taking hold of you to go to the other side of the car you were left with Matt inside the car and his face giving slight concern. “What’s wrong?” You ask furrowing your brows slightly.

That is when you realize what it was, the backseat had no space left for you, and neither Matt nor you knew what to do, “Fuck.” He muttered to himself looking back to where his brothers were situated and back to you with an awkward face.

Matt thinks for a second before parting his lips to let out the sentence, “You could sit on my lap.” His palm softly patted his lap as he looked at you with a sly smile.

Your lips pursed into a thin line, the awkwardness getting the best of you as you got into the car and carefully down your weight on your best friend’s lap. To which he just placed his hands around your waist and gently sat you down on his lap. “Relax, you’re not heavy at all.” He whispers in your ear as the car door closes.

You looked back at him and smiled shyly, trying to hide the fact that he was caressing the sides of your hips with his thumbs.

The first two hours of the road were completely normal, you and the triplets had a karaoke session for half an hour, and the rest was to talk about what you guys wanted to do as soon as you arrived and enjoy some snacks. But now you guys were only an hour away from the beach house that the triplet's parents rented.

Nick and Chris had fallen asleep for a few minutes and you could also feel your eyes heaving from the energy you wasted the first two hours throughout the way, also the fact that you didn’t sleep that well last night. Matt on the other hand was with his headphones on the minute Chris and Nick closed their eyes.

You patted Matt’s lap to get his attention, you looked back at him as soon as you did that he took his headphones off “You okay? Need something?” He asked with slight concern.

“No, I’m fine, I was just wondering if I could get comfortable so I can sleep while we get there.” You said with a little smile plastered on your face as he nodded.

Matt spread his legs slightly so you could have more space to get as comfortable as possible, you rocked your hips a little to the sides so your lower back could be resting on Matt’s chest level or closer to it, and you rested your head on his shoulder as he put his headphones back on.

Your eyes closed so easily, and your mind drifted to your dreams so swiftly that you couldn’t even imagine.

Thirty minutes left inside the car, you were still in the embrace of Matt’s arms, your position shifting once in a while.

And how clueless of Matt for not thinking how touch-deprived he is, every time you switched your position while your slept you would move your hips or straddle his lap, making his dick twitch against his pants.

His breathing getting heavier, and his body was shaking trying to contain the pure excitement that just the smallest friction could do to him. He felt so guilty for his body reacting and finding pleasure in something meaningless; something completely common and normal.

He closed his eyes, trying to contain these feelings towards you, towards your body to stop the erection that he sooner or later would have to fix all by himself.

And also wish he could arrive as fast as he could to the fucking beach house.

After what seemed like a good twenty minutes of sleep, you finally opened your eyes carefully, trying not to get blinded by the rays of sun that were passing through the window, the change of scenery makes your stomach flutter with joy as you see the ocean peek through the reliefs of the street.

You turned your head to peek at your best friend who seemed to be sleeping, his dark circles showing off a little bit more with this new change of lighting that the car has. You smiled to yourself as you saw your best friend opening his eyes quickly when he felt your gaze on him. “Did you get to sleep for a bit?” You asked, your throat was dry and raspy, nonetheless, a good cup of water could fix it as soon as you guys arrived at the beach house you were staying in.

Matt nodded, his eyes looking away from yours as he changed his position a little, making your weight lift a little, a small poking sensation in your inner thigh as he did this action. Something felt off in your surface.

You looked down, scanning Matt’s lap to check if he had something in his pockets that could make this sudden change in position make you slightly uncomfortable.

Your eyes widened as you took a glance of what was the strange object poking your inner thigh, it wasn’t just an object it was more of a certain body part. You looked away in shame, forcing yourself to stare at the blankly looking headrest in front of you, your stomach feeling fluttered as you tried to stop thinking about what you just witnessed.

The beach house was beautiful outside, it was a two-story victorian summer house, with a small front porch with two wooden chairs and a tiny round wooden coffee table, the breeze hugging your skin nicely, everything seemed to be perfect, the weather in Long Island was just the perfect balance of not too warm and not too cold, it definitely felt like the summer vibes were there.

As you entered the house, your eyes were amazed by the interior, the walls were covered in this beautiful blueish floral wallpaper, the couches looked like they some sort of English sofas, and a small chimney facing a large path to the back porch of the house, the stairs that lead to the way to the different rooms where you would be staying in for the next week.

Matt steps beside you, glancing around the place, “Wanna share a room?” He asked nonchalantly as he looked at you, taking in all of your factions, you looked back at him “I thought you and Chris agreed on sharing the same room, though?” You retorted.

Matt brushed the strands of hair blocking his view, “Yeah, I thought so too until he decided that he now wants to share a room with Nick.” He sighed, “I think I’m going to go upstairs and shower and then take a nap, I feel like I haven’t slept in years.”

You nodded “Alright, I’ll catch you later.” You replied, giving a sly smile to him as he walked upstairs and disappeared out of your sight. Things have gotten awkward since you discovered the hard-rock erection he had back in the entirety of the ride. You didn’t say a word but interacting with him or even just looking at Matt made you nervous somehow.

Your mind kept racing with the thought of seeing his body react that way to you, does this mean he feels turned on by you? Should you do something about it?

A few minutes had passed and you explored the rest of the house already, you carried your bag in your left hand as you went upstairs, a room door slightly opened and a dim light reflected on the inside of it. You pushed the door gently, and the first thing you heard was the shower running down, Matt’s bag half-opened in the bed, you tossed yours to the other side, sitting down beside it, your head had a pounding headache that you couldn’t make it stop.

Scanning the room, you see the bathroom door halfway opened, the fog from the steaming water escaping through it, you could see Matt, his silhouette revealing the way his forehead was resting on the tiled wall of the shower, the water running down his back and cascading through his hair, his hands rubbing his face exhaustingly as he sighed in pure relief.

The way his muscles flexed each time he brushed his hair back was enough to make you soaking wet in your panties. You stood up, your steps closer and carefully just to get a better view of his silhouette.

You were there, your hand opening the door more, the squeaking sound blowing your cover because Matt looked right at you in the eye, the eye contact holding on for what seemed like an eternity. You shut the door and ran down to sit back on the bed.

Would it be worth it to risk it all?

Dawn arrives, you've been playing with Nick and Chris UNO matches for what seems like an hour now on the back porch of the residence, every match Nick either complained or Chris would make a mess and you guys would have to play all over again, that was until Nick threw a tantrum over him and they both went to their separate ways inside the house.

You were lying now on the couch of the living room, bored filling your senses, your phone not even making an effort to entertain you at all. You heard steps coming from the staircase, as you looked up you saw Matt, his hair was still a little wet and he looked like a brand new person in comparison to how he looked a couple of hours ago. “Hey, I’m going to drive around town, I was wondering if you would like to come with me?”

You stood up from the couch, “Sure! I was getting bored, so.” You both walked towards the front door, Matt opening it for you.

The town was almost like a sort of ghost town, with a few people walking down the sidewalk, and making their way to Amangasett beach. The lamp posts illuminated around with a tenuous yellowish light, the night sky revealing a pale moonlight. “Wanna go for a swim?” Matt’s voice takes you out of your trance.

“Yeah, I don't see why not.” You replied with a small smile as you moved to his seat and gave him a side hug, to which he just chuckled and kept his eyes on the road.

Matt parked the car in an almost empty zone at the beach, the place seemed clear of big crowds, just a few couples sitting by the edge of the ocean but no one else. As you got out of the car you took off your shirt and shorts quickly, running down to the ocean as Matt followed your pace, the both of you giggling.

Your body trembled when your toes grazed lightly on the water, the adrenaline and tingling sensation making your heart flutter anxiously, you kept sinking your body until half of your abdomen was fully covered by the ocean, you looked at the moon taking in the sight of it until you felt cold fingertips touch your lower back. “I’m glad you came with us,” Matt said, his voice sounding so distant yet it had a hint of something else you couldn't fully recognize.

He spins you around by grabbing your waist, your eyes meeting his as he pulls you closer, your breaths mixing with each other’s as he takes the sight of your face, his hands still positioned on your lower back. His eyes shone brighter than ever before. “I mean, that’s what friends are for, right?” You looked for a split second at Matt’s lips, his tongue sticking out to lick the inner corners of his lips before parting them.

“Yeah, friends…” He breathed out, his words laced with that unknown feeling you can’t recognize, his eyes giving a glint of lust as he looked at your lips.

Your mind drifts to the moment you both are in the car, his hard rock erection making you question whether it’s worth it to risk the friendship or pretend like it was a little accident, even though it wasn't little at all.

Or the shower incident, nothing of what happened today was by accident, there was not even a chance that it was.

Your attention gets drawn by his breath getting closer to your ear, his voice carefully whispering his words “What you thinking ‘bout?”

You licked your lips, your voice trembling and your words slipping out of your mouth sloppily “Nothing…w-why?” your lips pressing together as his breath reached down your jawline, his lips grazing the fine line of it teasingly, a low dark chuckle getting out of his mouth when he saw you shiver by the smallest contact.

“Remembering what you saw in the bathroom, hm?” His lips pressed tentatively, traveling from your jawline to your neck, you titled your head to the side to grant him more access, his hand sneaking down to grab your throat delicately as he kept abusing your sweet spots. His other hand caresses your waist.

“I don’t have a clue of what you’re talking about…” You breathed out, breathless whimpers coming out of your mouth as Matt kept doing his attack all over your throat, leaving hickeys and wet kisses all over. He hums, Matt’s vibrant voice coursing through your body “Really? How funny, considering you even tried to be sneaky about it.” He says as he returns to kissing your jawline, then your chin, and then he gets to your lips, tempting you to make the move, his teeth biting your lower lip gently.

“Don’t act so innocent now, you were sneaky about your little accident back in the car too.” Your words shut out with such confidence, you looked at him, your eyes piercing his as you took in his reaction of pure shock; his lips parted and that was the chance you decided to get to kiss him. The both of you synchronized perfectly as if your lips were meant to be for his.

Your hands went directly to his chest, your fingertips doing small circles around his collarbone as he pulled you closer by your waist. Your noses were touching at this point and the kiss got more intense, the both of you roaming your hands all over each other’s bodies.

You were now lying down on the backseat of the car, your hand gripping Matt’s hand as he sucked your right nipple, his other hand playing with the left one, your back arched off the seat and your legs were wide open, fully unclothed now in the secluded space that he decided to take you to. Your eyes closed as you let the overwhelming pleasure take control of your body, his tongue swirling around your nipple, your breathless whimpers making Matt get harder beneath you with each passing second.

His kisses trailed to your belly, kissing it intently “I’m going to stuff this beautiful body of yours with my babies” A dark glint on his eyes as he ascended back to your face to kiss you. His hand traveled down to where your folds were, his fingertips adding pressure as he moved them in circles, causing you to gasp at the sudden wave of pleasure you were experiencing. Your hands flew to Matt’s biceps, your nails burying deep inside his skin as he kept getting you all worked up.

His lips rushed to kiss yours, this time more desperate and sloppier than ever as he kept adding more pressure on your sensitive nub, your moans getting louder as the knot in your stomach gets stronger. “m’ god” You babbled between kisses, your eyes closed as you take in all of the ecstasy.

“So close…” You breathed out, the knot snapping any second.

Then suddenly, the feeling stopped, completely gone.

You opened your eyes, Matt’s looking at you with a devious expression as he untied the lace from his shorts, the bulge of his dick very visible even though you are in an almost dark place. “What?” He asked, his head tilting to the side, a low chuckle as he spoke, “Wanted to finish?” You nodded, the desperation clear.

“Why would I let you finish if we haven’t even started? Hm?” He crawled back to be face to face with you, you felt his tip grazing your folds unintentionally, “Spread those legs wider for me, m’kay?” He said in a low voice, almost a whisper.

The desperation and adrenaline fuels your body, your legs spread wider enough to give him space between you, he positioned his tip in your entrance, edging you out even more until you had to practically beg to him. “Matt, please—“ you huff out at the undying desperation that your body was craving.

“Aw, look who’s getting frustrated now…” He coos, his left hand pumping his dick slightly before he slammed into you without warning, his movements frantic and hard, your head hitting the door slightly each time he pounded back inside you.

Your hands flew back to his biceps, gripping onto them for dear life as erratic moans emitted out of your mouth, his pace was nowhere close to being steady, it was sloppier as if he was already on the verge of getting on his own high too.

The tip of his cock was hitting that sweet spot of yours perfectly, making you salivate due to the incredible amount of intoxicating pleasure you were given in twenty minutes. Your mind felt fuzzy, this kind of pleasure was something that you’d stopped experiencing a long ago, your eyes crossing and shutting as you felt that sweet sensation of being closer, Matt abusing that spot deep inside you over and over again.

You couldn't even remember the last time sex felt this good, and never in a million years, you would’ve thought that your best friend would be the one to achieve that with you. Your thoughts stopped as soon as you felt his thumb on your tongue, indicating for you to suck it which you didn’t hesitate to be asked twice.

Your tongue swirled all over his thumb like a lollipop, getting it all wet as you felt the grunts and whines from Matt, the grip his other hand had on your hip getting tighter within two minutes. His pace not slowing down but getting ten times faster than it already was, the car shaking and your hands gripping the door to hold onto dear life.

Pornographic moans emitted out of your mouth as you felt that tight knot forming once again and getting closer and closer to snapping ferociously, your hand gripping tightly onto the seat as your eyes closed.

Matt’s placed his hand to grasp your chin, forcing you to look at him. “All that teasing to get dumb fucked by me?” He said, his voice losing power from time to time.

snap.

Your juices spurt all over the seat and coated Matt’s dick in a thin, sheer coat of hot cum. Moans emitted out of your mouth as your grip on the headrests of the car loosened up due to the lack of strength that your body was capable of holding up. Your legs are all wobbly and your muscles are sore from all the containment that they did.

At this point your mind was fuzzy, too dumb fucked to acknowledge that the well-known knot snapped already, your body too weak to keep upholding Matt’s pace as he kept pumping in and out constantly.

Not too long after, Matt came to his release too. Your juices and his combined deep inside you, he pulled out of you as he admired the conjoined trail of juices coating his shaft. His left hand immediately went deep inside you, making sure his hot seed was ‘secured’. He pulled his fingers out, a popping sound as he did so, and cleaned them off easily, admiring the rest of your body, a gleam on his eyes reflecting the lustful expression of being satisfied enough.

He pulled you close to his body, sitting you straight up as you both recovered, Matt trailing kisses all over your face and repeatedly saying “M’ love you” as he caressed your hair with ease.

Both of your chests were going up and down irregularly, trying to stabilize each other’s breathing back to normality.

Matt’s eyes shifted around the car, taking a look at the foggy windows, a sly smile smearing all over his face as he traced with one of his fingers the foggy window in front of both of you, tracing the words.

‘We just fucked :)’

You finished reading what he traced on the window and chuckled weakly as Matt looked proudly at his ‘work of art’.

a/n: tysm for 600 followers, wtf I can’t believe we’re already 600 (Nick fic coming real soon as a 600 followers special). It’s funny how I can easily write shit about Chris or Nick but when it comes to Matt, this mf is the hardest person to ever write off 😭 love y’all

tag list: @sturniolossss @tillies33ssss @chrisloyalgf @alorsxsturn @sturnioloslurps @cindylcuwho @3mm4yung @chrissfavwh3re @blahbel668 @lov3bug @starsturns234 @junnniiieee07 @mstarniolo @sara2233445 @teenagetrash00 @mattsturnioloisbae @mbbsgf @thecynthh @braindead4l @freshsturns @lexisecretaccx @wh0resstuff @jnkvivi

[blue-jisungs]

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ PUTTING A BOW ON THEIR BELONGINGS 🧸ྀི — monster trio reaction !

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ note! tried messing around bc i wanna find a cute new layout for my posts:( anywho! i hope you enjoy this since im soooo late to this trend *^*

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ LUFFY ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

luffy trusts you, he wouldn’t have given you his hat to look over otherwise. well, look over is a stretch – you weren’t feeling too good and decided to stay on the ship, whereas him and others went to explore. but as time passed, you got bored… and ended up having a brilliant idea. you decided to wrap a pink bow around his hat. not pining it with needles or anything, not to damage it. just loosely wrapping the pink bow you stole from robin, tying a little bow as well. the strings were too long so they fell off the offer of the hat. with a smile you put it on and glanced at yourself in the mirror.

“y/n, we’re back!” luffy’s voice echoed through the corridors and you panicked - you thought you will have time to take it off. but then the door slammed open and your boyfriend standing in them. his features softened upon noticing his hat on your head. he walked up to you and curiously twirled with the strings, a gummy smile growing on his lips.

“i don’t think the bow suits me but we should get you one as well, then we’ll be matching!” luffy grinned and put the hat on his head. you smiled softly and his arm wrapped around you “are you feeling better?”

when the pink strings fell before his eyes, he started blowing air in order to get them out of his sight. safe to say, he wasn’t fully listening to you.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ SANJI ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

to be honest, you thought he would notice right away. but days passed by and sanji was still cluelessly roaming around with ribbon around his apron straps. maybe because the bows weren’t too big or in an unusual place, you weren’t sure. you didn’t mind telling him since he looked cute in those. even luffy and usopp noticed the cook’s apron decorations, chuckling.

“what?” sanji asked, putting a plate on the table, not amused.

“cute little bows you got there” usopp scowled. you looked up since he was standing behind you. sanji just scoffed and put a hand on your shoulder, squeezing it gently.

“i know. y/n put them for me, i wouldn’t dare take them off” he hummed and you felt your cheeks warm up.

“you noticed?” you asked shyly.

“ever since you put them on. they’re cute, i don’t mind” he hummed and left to continue serving the dishes (not before leaving a tender kiss on the top of your head).

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ ZORO ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

obviously, you planned to wrap a ribbon around at least one of zoro’s swords! but the problem was… he carries them around with him everywhere. luckily, he loves you.

“is this… necessary?” the swordsman grunted, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“mhm” you sing-sang cheerfully, sticking your tongue out to focus. he just huffed and watched you carefully wrap a pink bow around his second sword.

zoro didn’t even realize when he started smiling.

“okay, beautiful. now, onto the last!” you chirped and leaned forward to grab the last sword.

“and how exactly do you want me to fight with those?” zoro teased, his arms crossed.

“normally, duh!” you grinned and placed the sword gently on your lap. zoro watched you trace the handle absentmindedly yet gently. his heart felt weirdly warm and all fuzzy upon seeing how tender you were with them.

his eyes followed your swift movements, your fingers tying a bow quickly but precisely.

“and all done!” you looked up and blush spread across your face. zoro looked totally whipped. “don’t look at me like that”

“like what?” zoro asked and reached to hide his katana back in its safe space.

“like you’re in love or something” you huffed, half teasingly. then, to hide your face, you ploppep your head onto his lap.

zoro gently traced the pink bow around the handle of his sword.

“yeah, as if” he scoffed and shoved you gently. you rolled off him, deciding to wrestle the swordsman. (and failing miserably).

masterlist <3

taglist. @eternalgyu ,, @haecien ,, @slytherinshua

[ghouljams]

Would Nikto react well if addressed as Muzh in the forge?

"Muzh," you say it just to feel the word on your tongue, the soft purr of the 'm' that leads into the song of the 'oo' and settles gently into the voiceless postalveolar fricative 'sh.' You sound it out as softly as you can, "Mm-oo-sh" letting the sounds of it roll over your tongue. You find it to be as dreamlike in the waking hours as it had been while you slept.

Muzh. It carries itself in the front of your mind as you busy yourself.

Muzh. Bleeds into the warm water of your bath to sink like oil into your skin.

Muzh. Warm in your mouth, too big to keep your jaw shut against the sound of it. Muzh, muzh, muzh. What a strange, wonderful, word. It fills your heart with light, makes your hips sway more easily when you walk, your steps feel as if they're lifting you from the ground and you muscles sing with a loose attention.

You swing your legs as you sit on your stool in the forge. You try to stay unobtrusive in here, quiet, so Nikto doesn't take it upon himself to throw you out.

It hasn't happened yet, but if the first time he sets his hands on you is to push you out... there is a certain thematic quality to the thought.

You hum, drawing the only word in your mind slowly over your tongue. "M -ooooo- zh."

Nikto's shoulders twitch back.

Your eyes flick to the soft glow of the forge, the embers stoked hot even as the flames simmer low and blue against them.

"Muzh," you pull the voiceless fricative at the end, the middle 'oo' pitched up and down like a song.

Nikto sets his work down in annoyance and stands to stalk over to you. He stops just in front of your knees, his thighs nearly brushing them as he crosses his arms over his chest. The motion pushes his chest out, making him seem larger, sturdier, you have to tip your head back to meet his eye.

He seems to be waiting on something. You don't know what that might be. Maybe for you to leave?

He deflates ever so slight with a grumbled word that feels like a swear.

His hands drop back to his side. "Do not call us unless you need something." He tells you, like he's reprimanding a child.

You wonder what he means by that, and Nikto wonders in turn if you can hear the rapid drum of his heart.

Husband, he thinks, how can you remember that but nothing else sticks?

[anamina0]

Echoes

Part I , Part II , Part III , Part IV , Part V , Part VI, Part VII , Part VIII

Summary : Your mind is a battlefield, a constant war between thoughts of Vi and the haunting memories of Ellie. Just when you think you’ve shaken one, the other slips in to take its place. And yet, no matter how desperately you try to keep Vi at a distance, she’s always there—like some kind of force refuses to let you walk away.

Warnings/themes : angst, trauma, heartbreak, meantions of death, fluff, kissing , yearning, both Vi and you being assholes to each other

Word count: 5.3k

“Is that really necessary?” you frowned, closing the creaky door behind you. The muffled noise of the bustling bar below faded as you stepped into the cramped room. “We’ve got plenty of customers already. Throwing a whole celebration party seems like a bit much for a shithole like this.” You shot a glance at Revek, catching the faint twitch of his expression. “No offense,” you chuckled, nudging his shoulder playfully.

Revek arched a brow, pulling a cigarette box from his pocket. “God, sometimes it’s painfully obvious you didn’t grow up around here.” He spoke through a low mutter, tapping a cigarette free. “One holiday. Just one. These people—” He lit the cigarette, the flare of the lighter briefly illuminating his rough features. “They’ve been through hell. They deserve a night to forget about it. We all do.”

You rolled your eyes, holding your hand out for the cigarette. “I’m not saying people don’t deserve to celebrate,” you said, taking a deep breath . The cigarette smoke burned your lungs for a moment before you exhaled. “It’s just…” You trailed off, your words evaporating like the smoke in the air. Shaking your head, you handed the cigarette back. “You know what? Nevermind.”

You knew what the problem really was—you didn’t want to dress up, plaster on a fake smile, and toast to something you didn’t feel connected to. But deep down, you also knew why you were here, sticking around Revek. He was there for you when no one else was. The least you could do was return the favor.

“So,” you said after a moment, forcing a smile. “What do we need? Food? Drinks? Decorations?”

Revek’s lips curled into an easy grin as he exhaled another puff of smoke. “Just get a good night’s sleep, wear something that’ll turn a few heads, and get ready to have fun.”

“Whatever you say, big guy,” you smirked, passing the cigarette back. One last exhale, one last cloud of hazy smoke, and you pulled your jacket tighter around you. As you headed for the stairs, you glanced over your shoulder. “Don’t stay up all night, yeah? Try to save some of that cheer for the party.”

His laugh followed you down the creaking stairwell, echoing faintly against the worn walls.

The walk home was short, five minutes through the narrow streets of Zaun, weaving between patches of grime and bursts of chaotic energy. Your apartment wasn’t much—a sagging roof, flaking walls, and windows that hardly held back the bitter winds—but it was cheap. The streets hummed with life, as always. Shouts, laughter, the distant clatter of machinery—it surrounded you, chaos - that somehow soothed. Quiet terrified you. Silence was where thoughts crept in—unbidden and unwelcome. And you’d learned long ago that your thoughts were anything but gentle.

Pausing at your building’s stoop, you glanced back. The bar’s neon sign blinked faintly in the distance, its light spilling into the crowded alleys. Zaun wasn’t kind, but neither were you, and in its rough-edged way, it felt like home. The metal stairs groaned softly under your weight as you climbed toward your apartment. The wind whistled through the gaps in the railing, carrying the smell of oil and smoke from Zaun’s chaotic streets. From this angle, you could see the city glimpse of the city —grimy, alive, a restless pulse of neon lights and shouts echoing into the night. For a brief moment, you paused, gripping the cool rail. Looking down at the messy, relentless energy below, a strange sense of belonging settled over you. Zaun wasn’t for everyone, but for some strange reason, it was for you.

Your apartment greeted you with silence and shadow. The jacket slipped from your fingers, landing carelessly on the floor as your eyes scanned the small room. It wasn’t much—barely enough space to breathe—but it was yours. Your gaze drifted to the fridge. The grumble in your stomach reminded you how little you’d eaten today, though you hadn’t realized it until now.

Crossing to the kitchen area, you pulled open the fridge door. Grabbing some leftovers, you made your way to the couch, balancing the plate on the floor as you shuffled through your small collection of records. Fingers brushed over familiar album covers before settling on one. Placing it on the player, the first crackling notes filled the room, warm and comforting. You sank back onto the couch, letting the music wrap around you. But it wasn’t enough to drown out the thoughts clawing at the edge of your mind. No sooner had you closed your eyes than Vi’s face surfaced, unbidden. Her sharp, determined expression. The hard edge of her voice, the way she filled a room with a rough, commanding presence .

You shook your head, frowning. Why couldn’t you get her out of your head? You barely knew her, and what little interaction you’d had wasn’t exactly pleasant. She was cocky, rude, and dismissive, sparing you little more than a glance whenever she bothered to show up at the bar. Then there were the girls—always someone new, someone eager. Yet Vi never lingered, always on to the next, like nothing and no one mattered to her. She lived with violence and anger simmering under her skin, ready to erupt at a moment’s notice. You’d seen it firsthand. Your fingers traced lightly over your right cheek, where she hit you. It hurt. It was an accident , but still hurt.

And yet, here you were. Thinking about her. Letting her stormy eyes and crooked smirk linger in your mind longer than you wanted them to. It made you angry—angry at her, but mostly at yourself, at how effortlessly she occupied a space in your head when you knew she shouldn’t. Rave of unsettling emotions started swirling around , you were desperate to find answer to one question. Why was your mind still lingering towards her?

You tried to brush her off from your head, concentrate on something else as familiar melody swirled in your ears. And before you realized, it was already too late.

𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒

“Hey, hey, hey,” her raspy voice whispered, warm and familiar, as arms wrapped tightly around you. Her touch melted into you, grounding you when everything inside felt like it was spinning out of control. “Bad dream?” she added, her lips brushing your cheek with a soft kiss.

Your breath came in shallow gasps as you tried to calm yourself “It was mom and Hannah,” you admitted, voice cracking. You glanced up at her, the closeness of her body almost overwhelming in its warmth.

Her expression softened instantly, her green eyes reflecting the dim light of the room. “I’m here,” she murmured, pressing another kiss to your temple. “Wanna talk about it?”

You swallowed hard, throat tightening against the weight of the memory. “My mind…” You paused, gripping her tighter. “It took me back. To the day they died. It was so calm that day. So damn calm, like the world was just waiting to pull the rug out from under me.”

Her fingers moved in soft circles on your shoulder, her exhale measured and comforting. “You have to let it go,” she said quietly. “The guilt…”

A hollow laugh escaped your lips as you looked down. “Easier said than done.” But you smiled faintly, even through the ache.

She shifted slightly, her hand tilting your chin so you’d meet her gaze. Her presence-was like standing in sunlight after a storm. There wasn’t a hint of judgment in her eyes, only care. Only her.

Here she was. The only person who could calm your storms. After meeting her, you’d finally begun to understand what people meant when they talked about moving on—not to forget, but to reach for something better. Someone better. She wasn’t just a person; she was your armor, light in the darkness.

“I love you, Ellie,” you whispered, the words spilling from your lips before you could stop them. You couldn’t look away, and you didn’t want to.A grin spread across her face, her freckles shifting as she laughed softly. She leaned forward, her lips brushing against yours in a kiss so tender it unraveled something inside you. She pulled back just far enough to whisper, “I love you too,” before claiming your lips again. Her kiss was slow, deliberate, pulling you into her, stealing your pain away piece by piece. You could still feel it—the way her lips felt against yours, the warmth of her body pressing close. No matter how tough she was, when it was just the two of you, she unraveled, revealing a side of herself no one else ever saw.

And it was impossible not to love her for it.

𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒

Not again.

The memories came flooding back, wrapping around you like suffocating chains. You clenched your fists, trying to push them down, to silence the familiar ache, but it was no use. Your gaze darted around the room, landing on the record player. That damned melody still played, winding its way through your ears and dragging the past along with it. Ellie crept into your thoughts once again, as she always did when you least wanted her there.

It wasn’t fair. Not to you, not to the person you were trying to become. But the song stirred something deep within you—an echo of what used to be. Before you realized what you were doing, you’d slammed your plate down on the floor and rushed toward the record player. Your hands shook as you stopped the music with a force that left the silence ringing in your ears. But even that wasn’t enough. The panic had already rooted itself deep inside, clawing at your chest, making it harder and harder to breathe.

You couldn’t sit still. Not now. Not alone.

Grabbing your jacket from where it had fallen on the floor, you stormed out of the apartment, letting the door slam shut behind you. You didn’t know where you were going, only that you needed to go somewhere. The stairwell loomed ahead, but your steps were clumsy, your mind far away. The tension in your body made every movement feel strained, disconnected. That was probably why you didn’t see it coming.

Your foot hit something, or someone, and before you knew it, you were tumbling forward, catching yourself just in time with your hands against the concrete floor. The sting of the landing shot through you, but before the annoyance could fully set in, a low groan made you freeze.

You turned quickly, brushing the dirt from your hands. “Seriously?” you snapped, frustration spilling out. “Can’t you fucking pick a better place to pass out, you—” The words stuck in your throat as you finally registered the person sprawled behind you.

Her.

“Vi?”

She looked up at you, her expression a mix of exhaustion and drunken carelessness. Even in this state, she managed to smirk, as if she wasn’t sitting half-conscious on your staircase in the middle of the night.

“Hey there, Y/N,” she drawled, her voice raspy and uneven, her speech slurred.

Shock left you dumbfounded for a moment. Then came the anger. “What the hell are you doing here?” you demanded, stepping closer. “Are you following me?”

Vi let out a lazy, half-hearted laugh. “Follow you?” She paused to steady herself before smirking again. “Why would I ever follow you?” Her words hit like a slap, but it wasn’t just the insult that got to you. It was the way she said it so casually, dismissively, like you didn’t matter at all.

Your jaw tightened as you glared down at her. “Then what are you doing passed out outside my apartment?”

Vi blinked up at you, the haze in her eyes softening as she finally focused on your face. For a brief second, something warm flickered there, like she was actually glad to see you. “Because I live here,” she mumbled, tilting her head toward the door beneath your flat. Of course. The universe really had it out for you. Of course Vi lived here, right below you, as if some cosmic joke was at play. You cursed inwardly at the revelation. Why would she ever follow you? She didn’t care about you, and deep down, you already knew that.

“Oh,” you muttered, trying to mask the embarrassment seeping into your voice. “I’ve never seen you around.”

Vi gave you a half-shrug, her coordination barely holding together. You squinted at her, taking in the sorry state she was in—the alcohol practically radiated off her. “You look like you need some help,” you said, forcing a smug grin. “You reek, by the way.”

“I could use some help,” she admitted with a groan, extending a hand toward you.

You hesitated before squatting down to grab her hand. As you tried to pull her up, it became apparent just how drunk she really was. She stumbled forward, her weight pressing into yours, so close that your noses almost touched. The proximity made your stomach flip—a mixture of irritation, panic, and something you didn’t want to name.

“You’ve got to help me out here,” you said quickly, your voice sharp to mask the awkward tension.

Vi let out a small chuckle, her trademark smirk appearing as if on instinct. “Sure thing, pretty girl,” she quipped, her words making your face burn even as you rolled your eyes. Steeling yourself, you guided her toward her apartment door, her steps shaky and slow. The entire way, you told yourself you were only helping her because no one else would. Because someone had to. Definitely not because she still managed to pull you into her orbit, whether she deserved to or not.

As you stepped into her apartment, the air shifted. It was exactly how you imagined—dim, cluttered, and steeped in melancholy, bottles scattered like forgotten relics of whatever storm had swept through here. You shut the door behind you.

“Can you walk on your own?” you asked, a bite of judgment in your voice as you glanced at her.

Vi swayed where she stood, attempting a smile but only managing a lopsided smirk. “I can try,” she mumbled, her steps as unsteady as her voice.

“You need to splash some cold water on your face,” you instructed, your tone sharp. “It’ll help.”

She let out a slow exhale, the kind that spoke of exhaustion and annoyance, but she didn’t argue. She dragged herself to the sink in the kitchen. The water hissed as she turned it on, splashing it onto her face, washing away the traces of her drunken haze—or at least trying to. You stood there, watching her, your thoughts spinning like the needle on a broken record. Just minutes ago, you’d been fleeing your own storm, running blindly from the chaos of your thoughts and memories of Ellie that refused to leave you in peace. Then, as if the universe were playing some twisted game with you, you tripped over Vi of all people. The strange coincidence of her living right below you only fueled your frustration.

You told yourself you hated her for it—for the way she managed to replace one chaos in your life with another. But deep down, some part of you was almost grateful. That small, shameful part wanted her here, even like this. Even when she was impossible.

“Pretty girl.” Her drunken words floated back to you, uninvited, pulling at something inside your chest as your eyes darted to her again. You swallowed hard, trying to shake the moment from your mind. Vi finally turned the water off, not bothering to look at you as she walked unsteadily to the sofa and let herself fall onto it. You lingered near the door, torn between leaving her there and doing something—anything—to stop whatever spiral she was in. But walking out now wasn’t an option. It never was, not when someone was unraveling right in front of you. So you took a step closer, and then another. Her silhouette against the dim light felt heavier than it should have, her sorrow filling the room like a storm cloud. You hated how familiar it all felt.

“Feeling any better?” you asked softly, testing the waters.

Vi leaned back against the sofa, her head tilted to the ceiling, eyes barely meeting yours. “Depends on what you’re asking about,” she mumbled, her voice coarse and tired.

“The alcohol,” you said, forcing a weak smile, hoping to crack through the wall she always seemed to throw up. “Though I don’t think splashing water on your face is going to fix…whatever this is.”

It was a small attempt to lighten the mood, but it hit like a brick wall. Vi’s gaze finally locked onto yours. Her makeup was smeared, her usually sharp features softened by exhaustion, but those piercing blue eyes still cut straight through you. For a second, she looked like she might let you in, might say something real. Then, her lips curled, and her voice came out sharp.

“Save all that bullshit for someone else,” she spat. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

And there it was again. The walls, she didn’t just throw up defenses, she lobbed them like knives. You stared at her, your temper flaring as her words settled into your chest .“You’re such an asshole,” you snapped, stepping closer.

“You’re seriously going to treat me like this after I just dragged your sorry ass off the street?” Your voice rose, laced with frustration you couldn’t hold back anymore. “You were so drunk you couldn’t even stand. I could’ve just left you there, but no—I dragged you inside, and instead of a simple thank you, I get this? God, you’re pathetic, Vi.”

Her expression darkened, her jaw tightening as the words hit their mark. For a moment, she looked like she might fire back, but instead, she leaned forward, her forearms resting on her knees, her hands clasped together. She didn’t speak, but the weight in her gaze was enough to make your chest tighten. The silence stretched on, thick with tension. You were standing so close now, the space between you feeling smaller and smaller with every passing second. Intimidation radiated off her, even slouched and broken like this. Yet, beneath it, there was something else. Something fragile she didn’t want you to see but couldn’t entirely hide. And that infuriated you even more. Because no matter how much she pushed you away, no matter how much she twisted your emotions, part of you couldn’t look away.

Then something shifted in her, as it always seemed to when the silence between you dragged on too long.

“Where were you running off to, anyway?” she asked, her voice softer now, though still carrying that faint edge of amusement. “You looked like a psychopath, sprinting out there like that.” A chuckle slipped past her lips, light but dry, like she was trying to mock you and not quite succeeding. You glanced at her, unable to fully brush off her words. Her tone—teasing as it was—held something else beneath it, something you weren’t ready to face.

“That’s… a long story,” you replied, your voice quiet, the weight of the moment anchoring you. You didn’t even realize you were sitting beside her now, close enough to see the way her messy bangs fell into her face. You sighed, chuckling weakly, “Let’s just say I was running away from my own mind.”

At that, her teasing demeanor softened further. Her gaze lingered on you, the faintest flicker of understanding crossing her face. For a moment, it was like she knew exactly what you meant, even though you hadn’t said a word about the storm of emotions inside you.

“Sounds familiar,” she murmured, her voice dropping lower. She paused, her tongue grazing the corner of her lips before she added, “Did you?”

The abruptness of the question caught you off guard. “Did I what?”

“Get away,” she clarified, tilting her head slightly.

“Well,” you exhaled sharply, aiming for humor to deflect the weight of her question, “it’s hard to run away from anything when your drunk neighbor almost sends you flying down the stairs.”

Her lips twitched into the smallest of smiles. “You’re welcome.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you shot back, rolling your eyes. “You’re the reason the panic attack snapped out of me, you asshole.”

“And I don’t even get a ‘thank you’ for that?” she replied, her voice laced with mock indignation.

“Uh, no. Considering I didn’t get one for dragging you off the sidewalk, I think we’re even,” you said, smirking slightly.

Her laughter was faint but real, and something about the sound eased the tightness in your chest. Yet, as the silence crept back in, the air between you shifted again. It felt raw, vulnerable. Like neither of you could ignore the unspoken weight pressing down on both of you.

“I hate the taste of alcohol,” she said suddenly, her voice quieter now, almost hesitant. “I despise it.”

You turned to her, surprised at the admission. She wasn’t looking at you but staring off at some undefined spot in the room, her hands fidgeting with the edge of her pants.

“Every sip reminds me that I shouldn’t be doing it,” she continued, her words slower now. “I know it’s not the way to deal with anything, but…” She trailed off, taking a deep breath before letting it out slowly. “But I can’t stop. I have to blur everything, make my head so cloudy that I can’t hear my own thoughts. Because if I don’t…”

You didn’t dare move, afraid of breaking whatever fragile moment had settled around the two of you. Her voice cracked just slightly as she finished, “If I don’t, I’ll go crazy.”

The room was still, but her words hung heavy in the air. You looked at her—really looked at her—and for the first time, you saw past the wall she kept building. Beneath the tough exterior and sharp words was a person held together by scraps and desperation, just like you.

“I get that,” you finally said, your own voice almost a whisper. “That’s why I moved here. That’s why I bury myself in the bar, pulling shifts until my body gives out. Because if I don’t…” You hesitated, your chest tightening at the memories clawing at you. “If I’m left alone with myself for too long, everything just… comes back. All the memories. All the sadness. The guilt, the anger. It all comes at once, and I can’t—”

Your words faltered, the weight of them dragging you down. You let out a shaky breath, suddenly aware of how close the two of you were. She was looking at you now, her blue eyes softer, her expression tinged with something close to understanding.

“Yeah,” she muttered, nodding slightly. “I know what you mean.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable; it was heavy but shared. Her proximity was grounding, yet it also stirred something in you, something you didn’t want to name.

Her hand lifted slightly, almost as if she was going to reach out, but then she hesitated, letting it fall back into her lap. Whatever walls had crumbled between you, there was still a gap, one neither of you seemed ready to close. One thing remained the same—she was still a mystery. Even though you felt like you’d peeled back one of her layers tonight, so many others were still hidden beneath the surface. You wanted to change that. Desperation simmered beneath your skin to know more of her, to unravel whatever story made her the way she was. But fear held you back.Opening up to someone else? Letting them see the real you? You weren’t ready. You feared it, even hated the part of yourself that was willing to risk it again. The last time you let someone in, it hadn’t ended well—your mother and sister’s deaths, your brother abandoning you, Ellie disappearing like smoke and taking a piece of your soul with her. Every time, you ended up alone, and the thought of repeating that cycle should have stopped you.

But it didn’t.

“Can I ask you something, Vi?” you said quietly, turning toward her. You hadn’t realized just how close you’d shifted until now, the space between you narrowing to an almost unbearable degree. Her warmth radiated toward you, faint but undeniable.

“Of course,” she replied, her voice surprisingly soft. The sound of it lingered, brushing against your thoughts like a feather.

You hesitated, unsure if you should ask what was on your mind, but the curiosity, the pull, was too strong. “How did you end up… alone?”

She exhaled, the question hitting her harder than you’d anticipated. Her gaze dropped to her hands, fingers twitching slightly as if she didn’t know what to do with them.

“It’s a long story,” she murmured, looking up briefly before glancing away again. “I wasn’t always like this,” she continued, her words measured as if each carried a weight she wasn’t sure she could handle. “I had… family. A sister.”

She paused, and you could see her battling with herself, unsure if she wanted to continue. Then she whispered a name: Cait.

The way she said it sent a shiver down your spine. It wasn’t just a name. It was a memory, a ghost that haunted her, and for a moment, you thought she might choke on the word.

“Cait,” you repeated softly, testing the waters. The name felt heavy on your tongue, and you searched her face for a reaction. “She seems like… a heartbreak,” you ventured cautiously, your voice gentle as you tried to meet her where she was.

Her jaw tightened, and all she did was nod, as if even acknowledging it aloud was too much.

"Well,” you began, your voice barely above a whisper, “if it makes you feel any better, I’ve been there too.” Your lips trembled slightly as you pushed out a name you hadn’t spoken in years. “Her name was Ellie.”

Saying it felt surreal, like you were resurrecting a ghost you weren’t ready to confront. For so long, you had buried her name deep, locked behind walls you thought would keep you safe. But tonight, those walls seemed to crumble.Vi’s hand brushed against yours. The touch was light, almost hesitant, and it caught you off guard. You glanced down, surprised at how soft her fingers were despite everything about her seeming rough. Her fingertips traced yours, and then she intertwined her fingers with yours, so slow and deliberate that it sent chills rushing through your entire body.A simple touch, and yet it felt so different—so good. It had been too long since you’d felt this, a connection that felt both grounding and electrifying all at once. You looked at her, your gaze locking onto hers as she didn’t move, just let her fingers remain tangled with yours. Her eyes softened in a way you hadn’t seen before, and your heart stuttered in your chest.

Without a word, she leaned forward slightly, the space between you closing even more. It felt inevitable, like gravity was pulling you together. You mirrored her movement, hardly breathing as your faces came closer, closer still. Your noses nearly brushed, and her breath warmed your lips as your eyes fluttered shut.

Then panic hit, sharp and overwhelming.

You shouldn’t be doing this. Not again. It was too dangerous. Too much. The fear that consumed you earlier—the fear of opening yourself up, of being broken again—came roaring back to life, pulling you away violently. You jerked back, breaking the moment and standing so quickly you nearly lost your balance. Your hands trembled as you looked around the room, anywhere but at her.

“I… I should go,” you said, the words barely audible as tears burned in your eyes. Your voice cracked, and you cursed yourself for not being stronger. Vi didn’t move. She sat there, her expression unreadable but undeniably laced with sadness. She didn’t try to stop you. She didn’t say a word, and somehow, that made it hurt even more.

You opened the door, every part of you screaming to leave, but something—some force you couldn’t explain—held you there for one last moment.

“Um,” you whispered, not even sure why you were saying it, “Revek’s having a celebration party tomorrow. You should… you should stop by. If you want to.”

It was awkward, ridiculous even, and you hated yourself for offering something so trivial after what had just happened. But the words hung in the air as you finally stepped out, closing the door behind you. By the time you reached your apartment, the tears had already spilled over, cascading down your cheeks as you tried to keep your breathing steady. Whatever had just happened between you and Vi, whatever shift had taken place, it scared you in a way nothing else had in for a long time.

𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒

Author note: Chapter II is out!!! I really hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Please let me know what you think, it means world to me when you guys give me feedback and motivates me to do more .

[theartofcollapse]

what about Alex Cabot x fem reader who just sweeps Alex off her feet with her words and charming demeanor and Alex just can’t get enough😫

reader is really a lover girl and maybe Alex isn’t used to that

ps: I love your writing you’re a great writer!!

a/n: thank you so much!🤍 and thank you for requesting. summary: read it above pairing: Alex Cabot x female reader warnings: none word count: 1K

masterlist

Princess Charming - Alex Cabot

The New York air was crisp as the late evening settled over the city. The buzz of Manhattan outside the courthouse windows was a constant hum, but Assistant District Attorney Alexandra Cabot was immune to it. She was a woman who lived by her schedules, her rules, and her carefully curated walls. That is, until you waltzed into her world like a burst of sunshine cutting through the rain.

It started the first time you testified as a key witness for one of her cases. You were eloquent, sharp, and undeniably magnetic. Alex was used to dealing with hardened individuals and cut-and-dry cases. But you? You carried a warmth about you that made her almost forget she was in court. Almost.

The first time you spoke directly to her outside of cross-examination, she knew she was in big trouble.

“You were brilliant in there, Ms. Cabot,” you said as you lingered in the corridor after the trial. Your voice was smooth, warm, and honeyed, like it held secrets meant just for her.

Alex adjusted her glasses, unsure why she suddenly felt flustered. “Thank you. It’s, uh, part of the job.”

You smiled, tilting your head. “Still, doesn’t make it any less impressive. I’m not sure if I should be more in awe of your legal mind or the fact that you kept your composure while Benson and Stabler’s suspect nearly imploded on the stand.”

Alex tried to suppress a smile, but you caught the faint quirk of her lips.

“You seem to have a knack for making people unravel,” she retorted, her tone teasing but professional.

You shrugged, stepping closer, just enough to close the gap while still respecting her space. “Maybe. But I’d much rather spend my time unraveling mysteries like you.”

Alex blinked, and for the first time in years, she felt her polished exterior crack just a little.

From then on, every interaction with you became a challenge for Alex to maintain her trademark poise. You had a way of slipping in compliments that weren’t overtly flirtatious but still left her heart skipping beats. You’d offer to grab her coffee during breaks or drop by her office with case updates that weren’t necessary, just excuses to see her.

Alex wasn’t used to being pursued so openly, and she certainly wasn’t used to the kind of unabashed affection you offered. Yet she couldn’t help but look forward to the way your eyes lingered a little too long on her or the way you’d always find something genuine to compliment her about.

One evening, after a long day in court, Alex found herself exiting the courthouse with you by her side. It had become somewhat of a ritual.

“I don’t know how you do it,” you said, turning to her. “Balancing the weight of justice, holding your head high, always staying ten steps ahead. It’s extraordinary.”

Alex stopped walking and turned to face you fully. “It’s not extraordinary,” she said softly, her usual confidence momentarily replaced by something raw. “It’s… exhausting.”

Your expression softened, and without hesitation, you reached out to gently touch her arm. “Then let me be the person to remind you just how incredible you are when you forget.”

Her breath hitched. No one had ever said anything like that to her before. People admired her, respected her, even feared her. But you looked at her like she was something precious. Like she was worth more than the cases she won or the sharp edges she projected.

“I’m not very good at… letting people in,” she admitted quietly.

“That’s okay,” you said, your voice as steady and warm as ever. “I’m good at sticking around. And I don’t mind earning your trust if that’s what it takes.”

Alex couldn’t help the small, genuine smile that broke across her face. It was rare for her, but with you, it felt easy.

Over time, you made good on your promise. You became her safe haven in a world full of chaos. Whether it was bringing her takeout during late nights in her office or sending her playful texts to make her laugh during grueling trials, your presence became something she craved.

And Alex? She found herself doing things she never thought she’d do. Leaving work early to meet you for dinner, letting you distract her with ridiculous stories when she was stressed, even falling asleep on your couch after watching an old movie she pretended not to enjoy.

It terrified her how easily you swept her off her feet. But it also thrilled her.

One night, as you stood on her apartment balcony overlooking the city, she joined you, a glass of wine in her hand. You turned to her with that soft smile that always managed to disarm her.

“You know,” you said, “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone quite like you.”

Alex raised an eyebrow, amused. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“Not at all,” you replied. “It’s just unexpected. You’re this powerhouse in court, but when you let your guard down? You’re gentle. Kind. Beautiful.”

She looked at you, her heart racing. “You make it sound like I’m some sort of romantic hero.”

You laughed, and the sound made her chest feel warm. “You are to me, Alex. You don’t have to believe it, but I’ll spend every day proving it to you if I have to.”

For the first time in years, Alex felt her walls crumble entirely. Setting her glass down, she took your hand in hers and pressed a kiss to your knuckles.

“You already have,” she whispered, her voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions she felt.

And with you by her side, Alex realized she didn’t have to face the world alone anymore.

[leeny-leens]

Marauders boys at the Christmas market

I was walking home today and ended up stopping by the Christmas market, my favorite place at this time of the year, and it made me think how some of the HP boys would be like attending it so have fun! Due to the image limit I'm gonna post a second part where it's all Slytherin boys, my lovely darlings <3

Note: this can be seen as platonic or romantic

Pairings: Remus Lupin x Reader, Sirius Black x Reader, James Potter x Reader, Peter Pettigrew x Reader

Warnings: a lot of fluff, mentions of alcohol

Remus Lupin

I feel like he would've attended one before

maybe not a big or bright Christmas market, but he would've definitely visited one and knows how they are like

when you ask him if he wants to join you, he's happy to indulge you because it's been ages since you've gone somewhere together

the crowds definitely make him tense, he sticks close to you and keeps his eyes on you at all times

he's constantly making sure you don't get lost or something, but even if you did get separated it wouldn't be an issue to find him because he's so bloody tall

definitely checking out all the sweets stands with you

you both end up making a detailed rating list of which dishes and desserts were the best

I feel like he'd have a sweet spot for roasted almonds,I can just feel it they give Remus vibes

like the perfect blend between sweetness from the sugar and the dark rich spices and cinnamon?? the cozy taste that is so uniquely wintery and homey?? Remus Lupin all the way.

He'd be mesmerized by the lights and the way they reflect on your face, his gaze constantly wandering to look at the way your eyes catch the lights when you laugh at something

would grumble at people who keep pushing past you both

he'd walk everywhere you want and despite the teasing, would probably carry anything you buy or win

towards the end of your trip, he'd probably seek a more quiet place to sit down with you and rest

"You okay, lovely?" Remus voice is quiet, yet it floats through the air like the snowflakes above. The noises of the market are muffled, you both had found a quiet corner to finally sit down and get some rest. You take his gloved hand into yours, mindlessly playing around with his fingers while the ghost of a smile plays along your lips. "Yep," you answer "Just a bit exhausted, but it was fun." You finally look at his face, surprised to see he'd been watching you this entire time. Despite the relative darkness surrounding you, there's a soft glimmer in his eyes as he squeezes your hand. "Me too" he breathes out "Let's go again some time?"

Sirius Black

oh he'd be absolutely fucking enchanted

he's never been to a christmas market ever so he's just floored, jaw on the ground while watching it

I feel like he'd straight up short circuit from excitement

the people, the chatter, the smell, the stalls, the food, the games, literally everything about this place would be so incredibly magical to him

he wouldn't even know where to start

he'd Be bouncing from place to place exploring like an excited little puppy having zoomies

despite that he'd still make sure you're close by at all times and doing well

he'd try out every game and would attempt winning stuff for you

I feel like he'd love the shooting games or the duck fishing one

where I live there's a drink specialty called "Glühwein" which literally means glowing wine and my fuck Sirius would love that so much

he'd stare wide eyed, clutching the glass of hot beverage while taking tentative small sips

"This," Sirius declares with a flushed face and a smile that parallels the brightest star in the sky "is the best thing I've ever had!". You can't help but smile softly at his excitement, the way his nose is crinkled and his mouth is pulled into the biggest smile you've seen on him in quite some time. "Muggles are godsend, I'm telling ya sweetheart" he rambles on and on about the Christmas market, all the food and games you've tried so far and you bite down your grin as you tighten your grip around his hand. If having Sirius Back be this carefree and excited by simply visiting a christmas market, you'd take him to a million more for the rest of your lives.

James Potter

I feel like he'd be similar to Sirius, incredibly charmed and enchanted

would be so giddy to watch how the food is made

he'd dart from stall to stall, gushing about all the things that catch his attention

to be honest, that's probably going to be everything there

would ask you a million questions about things and how they work

if there are any rides, he'd drag you to try them out

he'd be amazed at the fact that this entire place is running without magic

"Christmas markets are magical" He breathes out, his breath coming out in tiny puffs. His smile is endearing, impossibly wide and it makes his beautiful brown eyes sparkle like the lights around you. "They're the most magical place after Hogwarts," he exclaims with joy, his hand never once leaving yours.

He'd probably buy a bunch of unnecessary random shit solely because he can

he'd also get a bunch of stuff that he thinks his friends would like

a wooden figurine for himself, sweets for Remus and Peter, some sort of toy for Sirius, perfume oil for Marlene and so on

Peter Pettigrew

I think he'd enjoy the anonymity of it all

the fact that you can just be part of the crowd, no association to anyone at all, and explore to your hearts content

he'd definitely want to try a bunch of different sweets, but maybe be a bit shy and feel like he's just dragging you around

I lowkey HC him as someone who's very into photography, so I imagine that he'd be snapping pictures of everything and everyone

you'd be his biggest muse, with the way the lights dance across your face, the way your nose crinkles when you smile, the way your eyes turn into crescents when you laugh at a particularly bad joke he says

he's taking pictures of you when you aren't looking, but also after a bit he grows more confident and you guys take a million silly pictures together

idk I just think you'd have a good time together, eating the different food and occasionally going off into quiet dark corners to take a break from the overwhelming crowd before going back off into your little adventure

you both would just walk around, enjoying the different stall while also people watching and making random assumptions about the people

"That one looks like three racoons in a trench coat." Your head whips around at the sentence, your eyes wide in shock at what he just said. You think it's a joke, but Peter looks dead serious. "Just look at the coat! No one walks or looks like that," the small smile that tugs on the corner of his mouth betrays the seriousness that drips from his voice, and you both burst into a fit of giggles.

This is my first time sharing something marauders themed aaaa I hope I did well! Feel free to request things, I'm trying to get the blog up and running as I hyper focus on those lovely boys. I'm more of a Slytherin girl, but they have a soft spot in my heart <3

[pterodactylterrace]

“The Blacks won because it’s Rhaenyra’s bloodline that continues on.”

Ok, first of all, Aegon II made Aegon III his heir. Rhaenyra was dragon chow by then. Rhaenyra wanted the iron throne more than anything else, and she only held power for 6 months before the small folk had enough of her bullshit. Six months. She managed to rule for half a year before she was overthrown, not by a usurper, but by her own people. Clearly, not a good ruler if you can’t even make it a year without getting chased out of your castle.

Second, Rhaenyra’s bloodline managed to fumble the ball two feet from the finish line. It started with Aegon the Unworthy and it ended with the mad king being overthrown just before the long night. Just one more generation was all they needed to last, and they fucked everything up so bad it put the entire world of men at risk. That… that takes skill. You have to actively TRY to fuck up that much.

After the conquest, there was noted to be one “good” king, and that was Jaehaerys. Between conquest and dance, Jaehaerys was noted as being a good, wise king. Aenys managed to have a mob trap his oldest two children in a distant castle right before he died. Then Maegor stepped in. He may have been decent if it weren’t for the brain damage. Most of the things he did before the battle on the hill were either rumors or just not that bad. He was also very against Kinslaying. Imo, one of the worst things he did was punish everyone involved in the Kinslaying in The Eyrie. Seems kind of strange he would dole out such a harsh punishment only to then kill his nephew in a very one sided dragon battle. That was the first thing he did after he woke up, though. Considering he had such a drastic change in personality, we can’t say how his rule would have been otherwise.

After Maegor’s death, Jaehaerys steps in. You know what made him a good, worthy king? Not the fact that he was a male, or could fight, or held the bloodline, or even that he rode the bronze fury. It was because he listened to the council of his queen. Alysanne was the real MVP of his reign. She did more for women’s rights than any other queen. She listened to her people. That is the mark of a good ruler. Walk softly, but carry a big stick. Know when to speak and when to listen.

People who know they have power and control don’t need to constantly remind others. They know. It’s not necessary to maim or murder people for speaking the truth, yet Viserys and Rhaenyra do just that.

When Saera majorly fucked up, they handled it. Not the way Alysanne wanted, by the way. She was sent to apprentice with the Silent Sisters just for sleeping with men while not married. Yet Rhaenyra can have 3 obvious bastards, insult the house with the largest naval force and prove to the entire kingdom that her words mean nothing, and Viserys still declares anyone who calls the strong boys bastards would lose their tongue.

Sorry, what? The Valaryons are one of the richest houses in the realm. They control most of the naval fleet. Maybe don’t make their son a cuckold?

“They had an open marriage!”

NO ONE ELSE KNOWS THAT. To the court and the small folk, Rhaenyra promised to be faithful to Laenor in front of the eyes of the gods, and she very obviously didn’t keep that vow. Why should they trust anything she says as Queen if she can’t even do something as simple as not birthing bastards? That’s what most people don’t realize in the bastard debate.

Whether you can prove it or not, the strong boys don’t look like either of their alleged parents. Like, at all. Even Aegon’s drunk ass could tell shit didn’t add up. Commoners are not going to be any different. They are going to know, and whether they can say it or not, it will still affect how they feel towards her. Can’t keep your marriage vows, why should I believe that you have my best interest at heart?

Because she doesn’t. She is a horrible ruler that lasted less than a year before the small folk rose up and drove her out. She feasted while they starved. It’s that self centered mentality that taints the bloodline and leads to The Unworthy.

Clearly no one learned about not having bastards, and this mofo decided to legitimize them on his death bed. Wasn’t going to be his problem, now was it? He died, someone else has to clean up his mess.

Hmm, not knowing how to clean up your own bastard mess, sounds familiar… oh, like Rhaenyra forcing her father to crawl from his death bed to make sure no one said mean (and true) things about her.

So I’m sorry, what were people saying about her being a good ruler? ‘Cause everywhere I look, I see another reason she should not have ascended the throne.

[sheriffaxolotl]

Bleed, Survive, Remember (Chapter 11) Arthur Morgan x Reader

Start: Chapter 1 Previous: Chapter 10 Next: Chapter 12:

Summary:

“Not takin’ lip from you,” you shot back, tossing a piece of carrot his way. He caught it easily, his grin widening. “Ain’t givin' any lip, woman,” he said, taking a bite and chewing casually, his eyes meeting yours.

Chapter 11: A Stranger Among Strangers

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Over the next few days, as your strength returned and you grew more comfortable moving around camp, you found yourself gradually being drawn into its small community. Everyone had their role, their quirks, and their routines, and while some welcomed you more easily than others, the fabric of the camp was undeniably close-knit.

You couldn’t help the way you feel out of place.

Abigail and Jack were among the first to notice you once you ventured out of Arthur’s makeshift setup. You’d been by the camp’s washing line, fumbling with a bucket of water that Susan had insisted needed moving, when you caught sight of a young boy darting through the tents. Jack was chasing a wooden stick, laughing as it bounced across the dirt.

“Careful, Jack!” Abigail’s voice called, warm but firm. She looked up from a pile of laundry near the fire and caught sight of you, pausing for a moment before offering a small, welcoming smile.

“Feelin’ better?” she asked, her voice light as she set down a shirt she’d been folding.

You nodded, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Getting there. Still feels like I’ve been kicked by a mule, but I’ll live.”

Abigail chuckled softly. “Well, that’s something, I suppose. If you need help gettin’ settled, just holler. Lord knows this place could use a few more decent folks.”

There was an ease to her demeanor, a subtle kindness that made you feel just a little less like an outsider. It became quickly apparent that Abigail was a busy woman, her time split between watching over Jack and tending to whatever needed doing around camp.

Jack, on the other hand, was pure energy wrapped up in a small frame. As you started to walk away, he darted toward you, clutching his stick like it was the most precious thing in the world.

“Is it true you’re a lady gunslinger?” he asked, his big, curious eyes locking onto yours.

You blinked, taken aback by the sudden question. “Where’d you hear that?”

“Uncle says you’re some kind of sharp-shooter,” he said proudly, puffing out his chest as though sharing some grand secret.

“Uncle says a lot of things,” Abigail interjected, shaking her head but smiling fondly at her son. “Don’t go botherin’ her, Jack.”

“He’s not bothering me,” you said quickly, smiling down at the boy. “But I think Uncle might be stretchin’ the truth just a bit.”

Jack tilted his head, clearly unconvinced, but before he could press further, Abigail ushered him away with a promise of a snack. You watched them walk off, the warmth of their interaction settling over you as you turned back to your task—determined to haul the bucket of water across camp without aggravating your side.

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John, on the other hand, wasn’t so quick to strike up conversation. You first spotted him near the horses, sitting on an overturned crate while cleaning one of his pistols. The metallic click of the gun parts echoed softly, blending with the background hum of camp life.

You’d been passing by, carrying some firewood to the supply wagon, when his voice stopped you.

“You’re the one Arthur dragged in, huh?”

His tone wasn’t unkind, but there was an edge to it, like he wasn’t entirely sure what to make of you yet. You turned to find his sharp eyes studying you from beneath the brim of his hat.

“That’d be me,” you replied evenly, setting the firewood down and brushing off your hands.

John nodded, returning his focus to the pistol in his hands. “He don’t usually go outta his way for folks he don't know.”

You weren’t sure if that was meant as a compliment or not, so you simply shrugged. “Guess I owe him, then.”

“Guess you do.” He glanced up again, his expression softening slightly. “Arthur’s got a good read on people, though. If he thinks you’re alright, you probably are.”

The faintest hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth before he turned his attention back to his work, effectively ending the conversation. You didn’t linger, sensing that John wasn’t one for long talks, and you won't one to push. Still, the mention of Arthur stayed with you, lingering in the quiet moments as you made your way back into the woods around camp to gather more branches. Thoughts of him—his steady gaze, the quiet moments shared—kept surfacing, weaving through the soft rustling of leaves and the gentle crunch of twigs beneath your feet. The camp buzzed in the distance, but for a while, it felt like the forest held only your own musings.

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Sadie, though mourning—which you found out when talking to Abigail—seemed like she was holding herself together by sheer force of will. The pain of her loss was still raw, visible in the stiffness of her posture and the faraway look in her eyes. You’d seen her sitting near the edge of camp one morning, her arms crossed tightly over her chest as she stared out into the trees.

You’d been passing by on your way to fetch some water when your footsteps crunched on the gravel, drawing her attention. She glanced up at you, her expression briefly unreadable before her lips curved into a faint, almost reluctant smile.

“Morning,” you offered, unsure if you should say more.

“Morning,” she replied, her voice quiet but steady.

Her eyes lingered on you for a moment, and you had the distinct feeling she was sizing you up—not in an unkind way, but as if trying to determine who you were.

“You need any help with somethin’?” you ventured cautiously, shifting the bucket in your hand.

Sadie shook her head, her grip tightening briefly on her arms. “No. I’m fine.”

There was an edge to her words, not cold, but distant, like she wasn’t ready to let anyone in just yet. You nodded, not pushing further, but as you turned to leave, she spoke again.

“Thanks, though,” she added, softer this time, and when you glanced back, you thought you saw the faintest flicker of gratitude in her expression.

She didn’t say more, and you didn’t linger. Sadie was grieving, and she needed space. You respected that, though you hoped, in time, she’d find a way to let others help her when she needed it.

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Javier, by contrast, was easy to talk to. You remembered him from Valentine—the bar fight in particular. He had been charming the saloon girls before it, or well, before Arthur showed up. In camp, you noticed he was often by himself or with a small group, strumming his guitar under the shade of a tree.

The first time you approached him, it was late afternoon, and the warm notes of his music carried across the camp. You’d been gathering some firewood nearby, drawn by the gentle melody. He glanced up as you neared, his dark eyes meeting yours with an easy warmth.

“You play?” he asked, nodding toward the guitar in his lap.

“Not a note,” you admitted with a small laugh, setting down your bundle of wood. “But I can appreciate good music when I hear it.”

Javier chuckled, his fingers still plucking at the strings as he spoke. “Well, stick around. Maybe you’ll learn something.”

You sat a few feet away, watching as his hands moved deftly over the instrument. The song was unfamiliar, but there was something comforting about it, a rhythm that seemed to blend seamlessly with the natural sounds of the camp.

“You were in that fight in Valentine, weren’t you?” you asked after a moment, a grin tugging at your lips.

He glanced up, a playful spark in his eyes. “Ah, sí. A wild night, that one. And you—you were the one Arthur dragged into it, no?”

“Dragged is a strong word,” you teased, crossing your arms. “I held my own, thank you very much.”

Javier laughed, the sound light and genuine. “Oh, I don’t doubt it.”

The two of you exchanged a few more stories about that chaotic evening, and you found yourself relaxing in his presence. Javier had a way of making you feel at ease, his calm demeanor a stark contrast to some of the camp’s louder personalities.

As the sun dipped lower, he played another tune, and for a moment, it felt like the rest of the camp disappeared. It wasn’t until he stopped to retune the guitar that he glanced at you again, his expression thoughtful.

“You’re fitting in well here,” he said simply, his tone sincere.

“Trying to,” you replied, lowly.

Javier nodded, a small smile playing at his lips. “Keep at it. This place... it’s not always easy, but it’s good.”

His words stayed with you long after the music ended, thinking them over.

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Uncle, on the other hand, was impossible to avoid—and not always in a good way. His eccentric behavior and strange humor made him a permanent fixture of the camp’s oddities. He’d wander around aimlessly, cracking jokes that didn’t always land, laughing too loudly at his own remarks, and regaling anyone who’d listen with dubious tales of his youth. At first, you found his antics bewildering—how could someone so seemingly lazy and nonsensical have a place in this camp? But there was a certain charm to his unpredictability, and, when you least expected it, he’d surprise you with a moment of genuine insight or a kind word.

One morning, you caught him reclining near the fire, hat tipped over his face as if he were sleeping, but as you passed by, he suddenly spoke up. “Y’know, all these serious folks around here could learn a thing or two from a little relaxation.”

You paused, unsure whether to engage. “Is that what you call it? Relaxation?”

He tipped his hat up and grinned at you, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “I call it livin’, darlin’. You should try it sometime.”

It was hard to tell if he was being sincere or just trying to get under your skin, but the exchange left you shaking your head and smiling despite yourself. For all his flaws, there was something oddly endearing about Uncle, even if you’d never admit it to him.

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By that afternoon, as you passed by the camp, Bill was sitting against a tree, polishing his rifle. His eyes followed you as you moved past him, the look in his gaze far from friendly.

“You know,” he drawled, spitting a stream of tobacco into the dirt, “shouldn’t be messin’ with things you don’t understand. That bucket’s too heavy for you. Might as well save yourself the trouble.”

You didn’t stop, keeping your steps steady, but the edge in his voice stung. “I manage just fine, thanks,” you muttered under your breath.

Bill let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “Suit yourself. But you’re just gonna slow things down, making a mess of things. Women always do.”

You bit your tongue, but something about his smug tone made you want to throw the bucket over him.

But you didn't, maybe next time though.

When you were coming back from another lap you realized he’d silently shifted a pile of gear out of your way, as if to make your task easier without drawing attention to it.

Odd.

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And then there was Molly. You had caught glimpses of her from Arthur's tent, finding you watched her a bit during your recovery. She carried herself with an air of sophistication that felt at odds with the rugged, chaotic life of this camp. Her laughter rang out across camp like bells, light and musical, though it was rare for her to direct it at anyone in particular. Molly had a certain charm—quick-witted and sharp-tongued when she wanted to be—that you had seen and heard from the conversations you overheard between her and Dutch or other camp members.

She often fussed over her appearance, brushing her hair or adjusting her dress, her movements delicate and deliberate. You caught yourself feeling a twinge of envy for the way she always seemed so put-together, no matter the circumstances. She carried herself with a confidence that stood out, always impeccably dressed despite the rough conditions, a reminder that she had a life outside all this—a life she seemed to miss terribly, or so you assumed.

Your interactions were few and brief, but she always seemed polite enough. When you had passed by one evening, she had looked up from where she was sewing, her hands deftly working a needle through fabric. “I don’t know how you keep up with all this running around,” she had remarked lightly, a faint smile on her lips. “I’d be half-dead after a single day.”

You’d simply shrugged, not sure what to make of her. She wasn’t unkind, but there was a distance in her words, as though she wasn’t entirely interested in getting to know you—or anyone else, for that matter.

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Once you felt well enough to graduate from hauling buckets of half-filled water from the stream nearby, you decided it was time to take on more substantial chores. The camp had taken you in when you needed help, and you weren’t about to let anyone think you were a freeloader. Determined to prove yourself useful, you set your sights on helping Pearson in the makeshift camp kitchen. It seemed simple enough—a little slicing, stirring, maybe seasoning here and there. How hard could it be?

The trouble started almost immediately. Pearson, ever the gruff perfectionist, launched into a tirade about the “right” way to prepare vegetables before you even had a chance to get settled. You barely had time to roll up your sleeves before he shoved a knife and a pile of carrots in your direction, muttering about how “greenhorns can’t even hold a blade right.”

Still, you tried to follow his lead. You had steady hands, trained for far less domestic tasks, but Pearson’s constant grumbling and pacing turned the simple act of slicing carrots into a nerve-wracking ordeal.

“Too thick,” he barked, leaning over your shoulder. “You trying to choke everyone? This ain’t some fancy saloon stew!”

Flustered, you adjusted your grip, only for the knife to slip and nearly nick your finger. “I know how to handle a knife,” you snapped, your cheeks burning with embarrassment.

Pearson raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Could’ve fooled me,” he muttered, returning to his stew pot with a shake of his head.

You were about to snap back that you were doing just fine when a shadow passed by the corner of your vision. You glanced up, and there was Arthur, strolling through camp with a freshly hunted buck draped effortlessly over his shoulder. He moved with the kind of confidence that drew attention, his boots crunching against the dirt as he approached. Sweat glistened on his brow, and his sleeves were rolled up, revealing muscular arms that flexed with each step. His shirt, damp with sweat, clung to his frame as he walked.

The sight of him momentarily knocked the focus right out of you. You didn’t even notice how still you’d gone until he stopped near the kitchen and set the deer down with an audible thud. He glanced your way, a teasing grin spreading across his face as he leaned on a nearby crate, watching the chaos unfold.

“Well, look at you,” he drawled, his voice warm and laced with amusement. “Right little kitchen hand, ain’t ya?”

His tone was lighthearted, but the way his eyes lingered made you feel like he was enjoying this a little too much. Heat crept up your neck, and you gripped the knife tighter, trying to regain your composure.

“You gonna stand there all day, or you gonna help?” you shot back, trying to match his teasing tone, though the quiver in your voice betrayed you.

Arthur chuckled, the sound low and rumbling. “Don’t look at me. I don’t reckon Pearson’d trust me near his stewpot either.”

Distracted, you almost didn’t notice when the knife in your hand slipped, the blade grazing far too close to your fingers. Your breath hitched as you froze, your heart skipping a beat.

Pearson’s bark came immediately. “Dammit, woman! You tryin’ to maim yourself? I don’t got time to patch up fools!”

You flinched at the sharpness of his tone, frustration and embarrassment flaring up inside you. Arthur, still lounging against the crate, raised a brow and tilted his head as if deciding whether to intervene.

“Easy, Pearson,” he said finally, his voice calm but with a trace of humor. “Don’t reckon she’s lookin’ to take your job.”

Pearson grunted, clearly unimpressed, and stalked off to check the stewpot, leaving you and Arthur alone for a moment. You exhaled slowly, shaking your head as you set the knife down carefully.

“Not a word,” you muttered, glancing up at him.

Arthur held up his hands in mock surrender, the smirk still tugging at his lips. “Didn’t say nothin’. You’re doin’ fine, really. Could use a little less blood in the stew, though.”

Despite yourself, you couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped. His teasing was maddening, sure, but there was something in his tone that made it clear he wasn’t really judging you.

“Not takin’ lip from you,” you shot back, tossing a piece of carrot his way.

He caught it easily, his grin widening. “Ain’t givin' any lip, woman,” he said, taking a bite and chewing casually, his eyes meeting yours.

You quickly looked away, cursing internally at the weight of his gaze. “Maybe next time I’ll let you handle the carrots,” you muttered under your breath, earning another chuckle from him.

As he turned to leave, his voice carried over his shoulder. “Just try not to take a finger off, alright? Camp’s got enough excitement without that.”

You huffed, brushing stray hair out of your face and muttering under your breath, “Impossible man.”

Still, as you looked down at the pile of half-sliced carrots, you realized you were smiling despite yourself.

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After Pearson’s scolding, you tried to keep your frustration in check. He wasn’t wrong, of course, but the sting of his words lingered. You didn’t want to be seen as the camp’s walking disaster—not after everything they’d done for you. Maybe returning to your previous chore, like fetching water, would give you a chance to redeem yourself—or at least avoid further humiliation.

Huffing softly, you grabbed a pair of empty buckets from beside the wagon. Normally, you’d only take one, but your mood had you feeling determined, or maybe just stubborn. Two buckets would show everyone, including Pearson, that you were capable of pulling your weight.

The walk to the stream wasn’t far, but the sun was rising steady, and the buckets seemed to grow heavier with every step. You clenched your jaw against the dull ache that crept into your side—a lingering reminder that you weren’t entirely healed yet. Still, you pressed on, ignoring the discomfort as best you could. The soft trickle of the stream came into view, and you knelt down carefully, the cool water flowing over your hands as you filled each bucket to the brim.

When it came time to lift them, the real challenge began. The moment you stood, a sharp, searing pain lanced through your side, forcing a hiss from your lips. You paused, gripping the handles tightly and trying to steady yourself.

“Damn it,” you muttered under your breath, shifting your grip and attempting to find a way to balance the weight.

“Need some help?”

The unexpected voice made you startle slightly. Turning, you found Jack standing a few feet away, watching you with wide, curious eyes. His small frame and bright expression seemed out of place in the rugged wilderness, but his presence was oddly comforting. You hadn’t even noticed him approach.

“Jack,” you said, forcing a smile despite the ache in your side. “What’re you doing all the way out here?”

He shrugged, kicking a pebble into the stream. “I was exploring. Mama says I shouldn’t go too far, but I wanted to see what you were doing.” He tilted his head, looking at the buckets. “You don’t look like you’re doing too good.”

You huffed a laugh, adjusting your grip on the handles. “I’ve got it under control. Just... a little heavy, that’s all.”

Jack stepped closer, peering at the buckets as if assessing the situation. “I can carry one,” he offered, puffing out his chest in an attempt to look more grown-up. “I’m strong, you know.”

The idea of Abigail’s son hauling water buckets was enough to make you shake your head. You could already imagine her reaction if she found out. “That’s sweet of you, Jack, but I think your mama might have my head if she saw you out here doing my work.”

Jack frowned but didn’t argue. Instead, he squatted down by the stream and picked up a smooth stone, rolling it between his fingers. “You don’t need do it all by yourself,” he said quietly, his tone thoughtful. “Uncle Arthur says it’s okay to ask for help.”

You blinked, caught off guard by his words. For a boy so young, Jack had a way of cutting straight to the heart of things. You crouched down beside him, wincing slightly as your side protested the movement.

“Mister Morgan said that, huh?” you asked, smiling faintly.

Jack nodded, his face serious. “Uh-huh. He says even strong people can’t do everything alone.”

His earnestness was enough to ease the tension you’d been carrying since leaving camp. You ruffled his hair gently, making him giggle. “Well, sounds like Mister Morga’s a smart man. Maybe I’ll take his advice.”

Standing slowly, you glanced at the buckets, then back at Jack. “Tell you what. How about you keep me company on the way back? That’ll help more than anything.”

Jack grinned, clearly pleased with the compromise. “Okay!”

As the two of you started back toward camp—Jack chattering about all the animals he wanted to see and you nodding along—you couldn’t help but feel a little lighter. The buckets were still heavy, and your side still ached, but somehow, it didn’t seem quite as bad.

Maybe you should tell Abigail Jack had wandered quite far from camp the next time you saw her. Maybe you should offer to keep an eye on him. You mulled it over in your mind as you carried the bucket toward Pearson’s wagon.

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The next day, you decided to try something else.

Apparently, you were no good at washing clothes either. Armed with a washboard and a bucket of soapy water, you figured this was something even you couldn’t mess up. Leaning over the bucket, you scrubbed diligently, but your arms soon began to ache. Water splashed everywhere, soaking the ground beneath you, and suds clung stubbornly to your sleeves.

The final blow came when a shirt you were washing slipped from your hands, carried downstream by the current before you even realized it. You lunged after it, nearly toppling over into the water.

Nearby, Tilly and Mary-Beth sat folding laundry, their movements efficient and practiced. They exchanged amused glances before Mary-Beth’s soft laughter broke the silence.

“You’re more of a sharpshooter than a laundress, huh?” Tilly teased, though her tone was lighthearted.

You sat back on your heels, shaking your head with a rueful grin. “Guess I’m better at making messes than cleaning them.”

Mary-Beth smiled warmly, setting a freshly folded shirt on the pile beside her. “Don’t worry. You’ll find your place here. Everyone does.”

Before you could argue, they took over the washing, leaving you to sit back, damp and defeated. Still, you couldn’t help but smile despite yourself.

As you sat back, watching Tilly and Mary-Beth take over the task with effortless ease, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of inadequacy. The laundry wasn’t just clean; it was perfectly folded, stacked neatly like they’d been doing it their whole lives. You bit the inside of your cheek, glancing down at your damp sleeves and the soapy mess you’d left behind.

“Well, at least I’m good for entertainment,” you muttered under your breath, half to yourself, half to the women nearby.

Tilly glanced over with a chuckle, brushing her hands against her skirt. “Oh, don’t let it get to you. Everyone has their strengths.” She leaned forward conspiratorially, lowering her voice just a little. “You should’ve seen Karen the first time she tried baking bread. The gang had to convince her she hadn’t poisoned them.”

Mary-Beth giggled, adding, “Or the time Uncle decided to ‘help’ Pearson in the kitchen. We were picking burnt beans out of stew for a week.”

The stories pulled a reluctant laugh out of you. “So, what you’re saying is, I’m not the first disaster you’ve had around here?”

“Far from it,” Mary-Beth said with a grin, her voice full of warmth. “We’ve all had our moments. Even Arthur.”

That caught your attention. “Mister Morgan? What’d he do?”

Tilly smirked knowingly, setting another folded shirt in her lap. “Let’s just say he’s better off in the saddle than trying to mend anything. The man once stitched his own shirt to his pants without noticing.”

You barked out a laugh, the image of Arthur Morgan grumbling over a needle and thread too vivid not to enjoy. It was the first time in days that you’d felt anything close to normal.

Mary-Beth’s smile widened. “Oh, it’s true. He’s a damn good shot, but anything that requires actual patience—forget it.”

You shook your head, still chuckling. “I don’t think I’ll ever look at him the same way again.”

Tilly leaned back, tossing a completed stack of laundry onto a neat pile. “Trust me, he’d probably take it as a compliment.”

The three of you shared a quiet moment of laughter, the tension that had clung to you for days easing just a bit. Maybe you weren’t cut out for laundry, but at least you weren’t alone in your mess.

                      ︻デ═一・・・・・・・・・・・・・・一═デ︻

As the afternoon sun shifted, you found yourself wandering back into camp, searching for something else to do. You spotted Charles by the campfire, sharpening his knife with slow, deliberate movements. A neat pile of firewood sat at his feet, and for a moment, you hesitated.

You’d met Charles only briefly a couple of days prior when he introduced himself. It was a quiet moment, just after you’d started walking around camp instead of being confined to bed. You’d been easing your way along the edge of camp, careful not to disturb anyone, when he’d approached with that calm, steady presence of his.

“Charles Smith,” he’d said simply, offering a hand.

You’d taken it, noting the firm grip and the quiet sincerity in his dark eyes. “Nice to meet you,” you’d replied.

“I didn’t want to bother you while you were resting,” he explained. “Figured you’d want to get your bearings first. But... if you need anything, just ask.”

That had been the end of it. No prying questions, no awkward small talk—just an offer of help, given freely. It had stuck with you, though. Something about Charles seemed grounded in a way you didn’t often see in this life.

Now, as you approached the campfire, you found yourself grateful for his earlier kindness.

“Need a hand with that?” you asked, gesturing to the firewood.

Charles looked up, his dark eyes assessing you for a moment before he nodded. “If you’re up for it. You’ll need to use the hatchet, though. Don’t think your aim’s good enough to split wood with a bullet.”

The teasing in his tone was subtle, but it was there, and you grinned. “Oh, you’d be surprised. But I’ll stick to the hatchet.”

He handed it over, stepping aside to give you space. You’d chopped wood plenty of times before, but after a few swings, it was clear your strength wasn’t what it used to be. The first log splintered awkwardly, and the second sent the hatchet bouncing off at an odd angle, nearly taking your fingers with it.

Charles reached out, steadying the log with one hand. “Here. Like this.” He positioned your grip on the hatchet and shifted your stance slightly. “Let the weight do the work. Don’t muscle it.”

You followed his advice, and this time, the blade sank cleanly through the wood, splitting it in two.

“There you go,” he said with a rare smile. “Not bad.”

For the next few minutes, the two of you worked side by side, the rhythm of chopping and stacking lulling you into a calm focus. Charles didn’t say much, but his quiet presence was comforting. It reminded you of the value in simply doing—finding purpose in the small, tangible things.

By the time the sun dipped lower, painting the camp in hues of gold and orange, you’d stacked enough firewood to keep the camp warm for days. Wiping the sweat from your brow, you leaned against the chopping block, catching your breath.

“Thanks for the help,” Charles said, his tone genuine. “Not everyone pitches in like this.”

You shrugged, a small smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. “Figured I’d make myself useful."

Charles nodded, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Well, you did good. This’ll keep the camp going for a while. Just don’t push yourself too hard.”

You opened your mouth to reply, but the sound of approaching footsteps made you glance up. Arthur emerged from the tree line, his stride easy but purposeful. His hat was pulled low against the golden glow of the setting sun, casting a shadow over his expression, but there was something in his stance—tense, deliberate—that caught your attention.

“Charles,” Arthur greeted with a slight nod before his eyes flicked to you. “Didn’t know you were takin’ up lumberjackin’.”

His tone was casual enough, but there was an edge to it, like he was sizing up the scene. He leaned against a nearby tree, arms crossed, watching you and Charles with an unreadable expression.

You raised an eyebrow, wiping your hands on your pants. “Figured it was better than sittin’ around doing nothing.”

Arthur’s gaze lingered on you for a moment, his jaw tightening slightly before he gave a low chuckle. “Well, you look like you’ve been put through the wringer. Hope Charles here didn’t work you too hard.”

Charles, seemingly unbothered, shrugged as he finished stacking the last of the firewood. “She held her own. Better than some of the others around here.”

“Is that right?” Arthur drawled, his eyes narrowing just a fraction. “Didn’t think you were the type to take on apprentices, Charles.”

You frowned, glancing between the two men. “It’s just firewood, Arthur. No need to make it sound like I’m learning a trade.”

Arthur pushed off the tree, his expression softening as he looked at you. “Just sayin’. You’re still recoverin’. Don’t want you overdo—” He paused, his eyes catching on the faint smirk Charles was giving him, and his voice shifted. “—overestimatin’ yourself.”

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms. “I’ll keep that in mind, Mister Morgan.”

Charles chuckled under his breath, grabbing his knife and giving Arthur a nod. “She’s fine, Arthur. You don’t need to keep hovering.”

Arthur’s jaw tightened again, but he gave a faint grin, tipping his hat. “Ain’t hoverin’. Just lookin’ out, is all.”

The air felt heavier for a moment, the unspoken tension between them palpable, but Charles shrugged it off as he stepped away. “Well, I’m done here. Firewood’s all set. You two enjoy the rest of your evening.”

He gave you a brief smile, then walked back toward the campfire, leaving you and Arthur alone.

Arthur watched him go, his posture relaxing slightly as he turned back to you. “He’s a good fella, Charles. Quiet, but reliable.”

You tilted your head, studying him. “Seems like it. Why? You worried about something?”

Arthur hesitated, his eyes meeting yours, and for a moment, he seemed to weigh his words. Finally, he shook his head, his voice softer now. “Nah. Just makin’ sure you’re settlin’ in alright.”

You didn’t miss the way his gaze lingered on you, warm and steady in the fading light. For a man who could be so guarded, there was something honest about the way he looked at you now, like he was trying to figure you out but didn’t mind taking his time.

“I’m fine,” you said, your tone gentler. “Thanks for checking, though.”

Arthur gave a short nod, his lips twitching into a faint smile. “Good. Let me know if you need somethin’. Don’t need you runnin’ off with Charles to split wood all the time.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “You’re impossible.”

“Yeah, well,” he said, turning back toward camp, “you’ll get used to it.”

And as he walked away, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself, the faintest flicker of warmth settling in your chest.

                    ︻デ═一・・・・・・・・・・・・・・一═デ︻

The camp was still bustling with evening activity—chatter around the campfire, the clink of tin mugs, and the occasional burst of laughter. You let out a breath, thinking about Arthur’s words and the strange comfort they brought.

But that peace was short-lived. You turned toward the wagon where you’d been keeping some of your things, intent on finding something useful to occupy your hands. Before you could take more than a few steps, Susan Grimshaw appeared, her sharp gaze locking onto you like a hawk spotting prey.

“Well,” she started, hands on her hips, her tone already carrying an edge, “I see you’ve made yourself comfortable, but there’s plenty more that needs doing around here.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden confrontation. “I wasn’t exactly sitting around—”

Susan cut you off with a curt wave of her hand. “I’m not interested in excuses. Everyone pulls their weight in this camp. If you’re fit enough to be choppin’ wood and chattin’ with Arthur, you’re fit enough to help Pearson with the supplies or other chores.”

Her words weren’t unfair, but they stung nonetheless. You opened your mouth to defend yourself, but something in Susan’s expression gave you pause.

“I get it,” you said, keeping your tone level. “I’ll help where I can.”

Susan’s brow arched, clearly not expecting your lack of resistance. “Good. Starting tomorrow, I’ll have a list for you. No more wandering about without purpose.”

You felt your jaw tighten, but you nodded. “Fine.”

She gave a curt nod and turned to walk away, leaving you standing there, frustration bubbling under the surface. You weren’t trying to shirk responsibility, but the constant need to prove yourself in a camp full of strangers was beginning to wear on you.

You took a moment to breathe, reminding yourself that this wasn’t about pleasing Susan or anyone else.

As you turned to head back toward your spot by the fire, you nearly ran into Abigail, who was carrying a bundle of laundry.

“She give you an earful?” Abigail asked, her tone more amused than sympathetic.

“Something like that,” you muttered.

“Don’t take it personal. Grimshaw’s like that with everyone, especially the women. She thinks it’s her job to keep us all in line.” Abigail adjusted the laundry in her arms, her expression softening. “But she means well... most of the time.”

You gave a small nod, not entirely convinced. “Guess I’ll have to get used to it.”

“You will,” Abigail said with a small smile. “Just don’t let her see you slackin’. She’s got eyes in the back of her head.”

The comment drew a faint laugh from you, easing some of the tension that had settled in your chest.

                   ︻デ═一・・・・・・・・・・・・・・一═デ︻

Emotionally, you felt drained after the past few days. Talking to so many people in such a short amount of time wasn’t something you were used to. You needed space, a moment to clear your head. After a brief pause near the campfire with Abigail and Jack, you quietly slipped away, heading toward Tater.

The horse stood with an air of quiet confidence, as if she knew she’d been spoiled and cared for. Her coat gleamed under the fading light, and her saddle looked as though someone had taken the time to polish away every scuff. Tater nuzzled against you, her soft breath warm on your hand as you gently stroked her neck.

"Hey girl," you whispered, a small smile tugging at your lips, "you got a secret admirer or something?"

Tater snorted softly, swaying slightly in contentment. You chuckled, leaning against her side as you ran your fingers through her mane. The quiet moment was soothing—just you and Tater, away from the chaos of being social.

You closed your eyes for a moment, the sound of the campfire and distant chatter fading into the background. It wasn’t often you took time like this to ground yourself, to reconnect with something that wasn’t people. It was just Tater and you.

You took a deep breath, letting the cool air fill your lungs as you leaned against the horse, feeling a quiet sense of peace.

But that tranquility didn’t last long.

From the edge of the clearing, you heard footsteps approaching. Your eyes opened, and before you knew it, Arthur appeared from the trees, his long stride steady and confident. His hat was low over his face, casting shadows across his brow, with a rifle over his shoulder.

"Taking a break, huh?" His voice was calm but held an edge of curiosity. He must be coming back from watch.

You straightened, adjusting your stance. “Thought I’d give myself a minute,” you replied, raising an eyebrow. “Figured Tater could use some attention... Someone been looking after her while I've been bedridden, I think.”

Arthur studied you for a moment, his gaze lingering on Tater before finally resting on you. “Yeah, she’s been lookin’ well. Seems someone’s been takin’ good care of her…”

You shrugged, your fingers still brushing Tater’s mane. “She’s a good horse. Didn’t see the harm in it.”

Arthur’s gaze shifted between you and the horse, his brow furrowing slightly. “Not the sort to stand around doin’ nothin’, huh?”

You glanced up at him, a faint smirk playing on your lips. “I wasn’t exactly sitting idle.”

Arthur tilted his head, studying you for a moment longer before letting out a soft chuckle. “No, I guess you weren’t.” His tone remained neutral, though there was a faint glint of something you couldn’t quite place in his eyes.

Arthur cleared his throat, shifting his weight as he adjusted his rifle on his shoulder. For a moment, he didn’t respond, and the silence between you stretched again. You studied him as he watched Tater, the faintest crease of thought on his brow.

“I reckon you don’t need to keep giving up your bed for me anymore, Mister Morgan,” you said, breaking the quiet. “I’m feeling well enough now.”

Arthur shifted his gaze from the horse to you, his brow furrowing just a bit. “Ain’t a matter of needin’ to. Just figured it made more sense, is all.”

You crossed your arms, tilting your head as you studied him. “Don’t seem like you got much sense when it comes to your own rest.”

Arthur’s jaw tightened slightly, but he didn’t look away. “I’ll manage.”

You stepped closer, lowering your voice. “You’ve been sleeping on that log over there for days. Might be time to take your bed back.”

Arthur didn’t answer right away, his gaze flickering to the ground. The tension between you seemed to grow, heavy but not uncomfortable. His fingers tightened on the rifle as he shifted his weight again, posture a bit more rigid now.

“Maybe,” he finally said, his voice softer, more measured. “But if you need it, I’ll keep movin’ out of the way.”

You frowned, tilting your head, sensing the quiet resistance beneath his words. “I don’t need you to.”

“You sure about that?” His voice was quieter now, almost a murmur.

“Yeah,” you said, softly. “I’m sure.”

Arthur studied you a moment longer, his gaze lingering, as if trying to gauge if you were being honest. Then, slowly, he gave a small nod, his lips twitching into a faint smile. “Alright, then.” He mumbled as he moved closer to you, his hand settling on Tater, as he pets the horse.

“You seem real insistent on gettin’ your way,” Arthur said, his tone lighter now, almost teasing. You don't miss the way his fingers brush against your hand as he pats Tater.

You smiled, stepping closer, your voice barely above a whisper. “Someone’s gotta keep you in check, Mister Morgan.”

Arthur tilted his head, his smirk growing. “Yeah? Might be you’ve got a knack for it.”

His eyes held yours, and in that quiet, shared space, there was a flicker of something deeper. You didn’t look away.

"Maybe."

Arthur’s smile lingered as he let his hand slide down Tater’s neck, fingers brushing against yours just a little longer. The tension between you hung in the air, thick and heavy but not unpleasant. He didn’t seem in any rush to break the quiet moment.

After a beat of silence, Arthur shifted his weight, clearing his throat softly. “You always this quiet, or am I just not sayin’ the right things?” His voice was low, teasing, but there was something more to it now—a hint of curiosity.

You took a breath, letting the smirk play on your lips deepen just a fraction. “Maybe you’re not asking the right questions, Mister Morgan.”

His eyes sharpened, narrowing just slightly as he studied you. “Is that right?” His voice dropped a notch, smooth and measured.

You shrugged, your gaze steady. “Might be.”

Arthur stood there a moment longer, his expression unreadable, as though he was trying to figure out whether to lean in or back off. But instead of moving away, he shifted a little closer, his presence enveloping the space between you like a slow, deliberate pull.

He wasn’t pressing, not yet, but the heat of his stare and the quiet understanding passed between you was impossible to ignore.

His hand grazed yours again as he shifted his rifle to his other shoulder, the touch barely there but enough to make the hairs on your arms stand. “You always this bold, or am I gonna have to drag it outta you?”

You smiled faintly, stepping a fraction closer, the distance between you shrinking. “Maybe it’s not about being bold,” Your voice was quieter now, almost a whisper, like the moment itself was fragile and precious.

Arthur exhaled, his smirk softening into something more genuine. “Maybe it ain’t.” His eyes searched yours for a moment longer before he let his hand drop from Tater neck, letting it settle nears yours.

For a second, neither of you said anything. The camp around you felt distant, the firelight casting long shadows across the clearing as if the world had narrowed down to just the two of you.

“Maybe we’ll see,” he said finally, his tone low and contemplative. His gaze remained fixed on yours, steady, the faintest flicker of something softer behind his eyes.

You didn’t look away. “Maybe.”

Arthur stood there, his expression softening further as he let the quiet stretch between you. The weight of his gaze was intense but not uncomfortable. He adjusted his hat slightly, his fingers brushing the brim, before finally speaking again, his voice low.

“Call me Arthur,” he said, his tone steady. “No need for all that ‘Mister Morgan’ business.”

The sound of his first name on his lips sent a small shiver down your spine. You hesitated for a moment, letting the weight of what he’d said sink in. Arthur. Simple, quiet, familiar. Perosnal.

You met his gaze and offered a faint smile. “Alright… Arthur.”

His eyes flicked down to your lips for a split second before returning to yours, that smirk still there but softer now, more genuine.

“Just Arthur,” he repeated, more to himself than to you, before letting his eyes hold yours once again.

Arthur took a slow breath, his gaze still locked on yours, as though he was trying to say something more, something deeper, but the words hung unspoken. The weight of the moment stretched out, the quiet settling around you both. You could almost feel the space between you narrowing, as though he was leaning closer, even if just a little.

But then, just as the silence was beginning to feel unbearable, Tater gave a low nicker, her ears twitching as she turned her head. The soft nudge against your side broke the stillness, and you couldn’t help but let out a small laugh at the absurdity of the timing.

Arthur blinked, pulling his gaze away from yours, his smirk returning, albeit more subdued now. “Well,” he said, clearing his throat, “seems someone’s got a better idea of what’s important than we do.”

You shook your head, chuckling softly as you patted Tater. “Looks like she’s not one for quiet moments.”

Arthur sighed, adjusting his hat as he looked at the horse. “Guess not. Can’t seem to catch a break when you’re around, can I?” His tone was laced with humor, though it still carried a thread of seriousness.

You smiled, feeling the tension shift but not entirely dissipate. “Can’t help it if I’m good company.”

Arthur let out a low chuckle, the sound more genuine now. “You keep tellin’ yourself that.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke, letting the quiet settle back into the space between you. Tater stood contentedly between you both, her presence grounding, as though reminding you that the world beyond this moment still existed.

But something lingered beneath the surface.

“Well,” Arthur said at last, his tone lighter. “I should get back. Don’t wanna leave the camp without a watch.”

You nodded, reluctant to break the connection, but understanding the need to pull away. “Yeah. Guess I’ll head back, too.”

Arthur tipped his hat, the corner of his mouth tugging into that faint smirk again. “See you around, darlin’.”

As he turned, his footsteps fading into the distance, you watched him go, a strange mixture of relief and longing settling in your chest.

Tater stood beside you, softly nuzzling your hand once more, as though sensing something had shifted. You let out a slow breath, brushing your fingers through her mane, lost in thought.

Maybe this wasn’t the end of whatever it was brewing between you and Arthur. But for now, all you could do was wait and see if the quiet tension would ever return.

You sighed, shaking your head with a small smile. “Awful timing, Tater.”

                                 ︻デ═一・・・・・・・一═デ︻

I really should be working on my assessments 📚, but I couldn’t resist writing another chapter now that the setting has reached camp 🏕️ and the gang 🤠. I hope you enjoyed this chapter !

[moo-nstone]

🪴 the signs as mitski lyrics 🍃🌱

aries: ‘i am a forest fire, and i am the fire and i am the forest and i am a witness watching it’ / ‘and i’ll go to work and i’ll go to sleep, and i’ll love the littler things’ – a burning hill

taurus: ‘at night on the rooftop i untie my hair, and watch from my plastic chair as my dark hair unleashes the night / the scent of flowers still in bloom from morning shower, and i say your name in hopes you’ll hear it in the stars’ – carry me out

gemini: ‘i will go jogging routinely, calmly and rhythmically run, and when i find that a knife’s sticking out of my side, i’ll pull it out without questioning why’ – fireworks

cancer: ‘i don’t know what to do without you, i don’t know where to put my hands / i’ve been trying to lay my head down, but i’m writing this at 3 a.m. / ‘i look up at the gaps of sunlight, i miss you more than anything’ – francis forever

leo: ‘i will wash your hair at night, and dry it off with care, i will see your body bare, and still i will live here’ / and while you sleep, i’ll be scared, so by the time you awake, i’ll be brave’ – i will

virgo: ‘your room was square, i once noticed from there, in your bed, as you slept, and i held my breath / everything had it’s own place, and i wondered what space would i take in the order you kept’ – square

libra: ‘if you need to be mean, be mean to me, i can take it and put it inside of me / if your hands need to break more than trinkets in your room, you can lean on my arm as you break my heart’ – i don’t smoke

scorpio: ‘i broke our belongings, they’re all on the floor, the room is now empty, nothing left to throw’ / ‘i broke what you gave me, but you kept giving more, and i’m sorry for taking, but i keep wanting more, more, more’ – humpty

sagittarius: ‘and i was so young when i behaved 25, yet now, i find i’ve grown into a tall child’ / ‘and i don’t wanna go home, let me walk to the top of the big night sky / please hurry, leave me, i can’t breathe, please don’t say you love me’ – first love/late spring

capricorn: ‘i’m all used up, pretty boy, over and over again, my nail colors are wearing off / see my hands, pretty boy, what do they tell you? ‘cause i’ve looked down on them not knowing why’ / ‘i can take a little bit more, let’s shake this poet out of the beast’ – bag of bones

aquarius: ‘oh hunter, if you didn’t want the beautiful so badly, perhaps you would have found it in your spirit singing softly / but hunter you were human, don’t forget it’ – pearl diver

pisces: ‘i cry at the start of every movie, i guess ‘cause i wish i was making things too’ / ‘i always knew the world moved on, i just didn’t know it would go without me’ – working for the knife

[elliecore4eva]

Home Found in the Quiet Places

PART OF THE : The Weight of Words We Can't Take Back world.

Summary: Joel finds you in a crumbling library, protecting two kids with a knife too big for your hands and a book in your lap. What begins as a cautious alliance grows into something deeper as Ellie draws out the pieces of yourself you thought were lost. Between quiet fireside moments and shared vulnerability, you find safety, love, and a family in the unlikeliest of places. Home, it turns out, is found in the quiet places—and the people who choose to stay.

Pairing: Ellie Williams x Joel’s Adoptive Daughter

Genre: Slight Angst/ Eventual Fluff

@wwefan2002 Thank you so much for showing love on this story! It means a lot to me! I hope you like it, love! 🫶

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Joel found you in a crumbling library on the outskirts of Denver. He’d only stopped to catch his breath after taking down a clicker—too many patrols had taught him that silence was his safest ally. But the sound of a book hitting the floor caught his ear. Quiet, too soft to mean danger, but enough to make him pause.

He found you in the children's section, surrounded by a fortress of overturned chairs and stacked bookshelves. You were pressed into a corner, clutching a rusty knife too big for your hands, eyes wide and brimming with exhaustion. And yet, your voice was steady, reading aloud from Where the Wild Things Are to a pair of terrified kids huddled at your side.

Joel’s breath hitched. You were so small, so impossibly brave in the face of the infected corpses scattered just outside the room. His eyes darted to the knife in your hand, noting the blood on the blade. You’d taken care of the immediate threat—but at what cost? The hollow look in your eyes told him enough.

He approached cautiously, lowering his gun. “Hey there,” he said softly, his southern drawl smoothing the edges of his gruffness. “Ain’t gonna hurt ya. Just passin’ through.”

You flinched but didn’t lower the knife. The kids behind you clung to your torn jacket, watching him like cornered animals. Joel raised his hands, showing he meant no harm. “You with anyone?”

You shook your head. “Not anymore.”

Those two words told him everything. The kids started crying softly, and you patted their backs, shushing them with a patience 

Joel hadn’t seen in a long time. He stayed rooted to the spot, debating whether to stay or leave you be.

But then you asked, “Are there more infected out there?”

He nodded. “’Fraid so.”

“Then don’t leave yet,” you said, surprising him with your honesty. “They’re too small to run. And I’m too tired to carry them both.”

That was the moment Joel made his choice. He couldn’t walk away, not this time. He didn’t know if it was the steadiness in your voice or the vulnerability in your shaking hands, but something about you reminded him of the pieces of himself he thought he’d lost.

So, he stayed.

The First Week

You didn’t trust him at first—not fully. But he didn’t blame you. The world had stripped trust down to its bones, leaving little room for kindness without ulterior motives. Still, Joel didn’t push. He let you keep the knife, let you sleep with one eye open while he kept watch.

The kids warmed up to him faster, thanks to Ellie. She’d been trailing Joel like a shadow since Boston, and the moment she saw the kids, something in her lit up. She made silly faces to get them to laugh, found half-eaten candy bars in her bag to share, even taught them how to whistle (poorly).

Joel noticed the way you watched Ellie, a mix of awe and something softer, quieter. It wasn’t long before she won you over, too. She had a way of doing that—peeling away defenses with her jokes and her endless curiosity.

When the kids left to join another group of survivors, it was just you, Joel, and Ellie. Joel thought you’d ask to leave, to find your own way. But when Ellie suggested you stick around, something in your face shifted—hope, maybe. Or relief.

“You sure?” you asked Joel one night by the campfire, after Ellie had gone to sleep. “You don’t owe me anything.”

“I don’t,” Joel agreed. “But I figure I’ve got room for one more.”

Your lips twitched into a smile for the first time since he’d met you. It was small, but it was real.

“Thanks,” you said, voice barely above a whisper.

“Don’t mention it,” he replied, leaning back against his pack. “Just... don’t go readin’ to me like you did with those kids. Ain’t much for bedtime stories.”

Your quiet laugh carried over the firelight, warming something in him he thought had gone cold.

Ellie and You

Ellie was the first person to see you—not just as a survivor, but as someone worth knowing. She had a way of drawing you out, of making you feel safe enough to show the pieces of yourself you usually kept hidden.

It started small. She’d ask about the books you carried in your bag, flipping through the pages even when you told her they were boring. When you mentioned liking music, she insisted on teaching you a few chords on her guitar, even though her own playing was still rough around the edges.

“You’re terrible at this,” she teased one afternoon, grinning as your fingers fumbled over the strings.

“Maybe you’re just a bad teacher,” you shot back, but the blush on your cheeks betrayed how much you enjoyed the banter.

It wasn’t long before the teasing turned into something more. Ellie would sit closer to you by the fire, her shoulder brushing yours. She’d stay up late swapping stories, laughing too loud when Joel grumbled about needing sleep. She started sharing things she didn’t tell anyone else—about Riley, about the Fireflies, about how scared she was to lose the people she loved.

“I don’t get why you’re not scared of me,” she admitted one night, her voice raw. “Most people either pity me or stay the hell away.”

“I don’t pity you,” you said, meeting her gaze. “And I’m not afraid of you. I’m afraid for you.”

That was the moment everything shifted.

Ellie kissed you for the first time a few weeks later, after a tense patrol that left you both shaken. You’d been tending to a scrape on her arm, your hands gentle but firm, when she suddenly leaned forward and pressed her lips to yours. It was quick, almost shy—so unlike her usual confidence.

When she pulled back, her cheeks were red. “Sorry. I—”

“Don’t be,” you interrupted, a smile breaking across your face. “I liked it.”

“Yeah?” Her grin was almost as wide as yours. “Cool. Because I’ve been wanting to do that for a while.”

Joel didn’t say much when he noticed the way Ellie’s hand lingered on yours, or the way you leaned into her laughter. But one night, after Ellie had fallen asleep with her head on your shoulder, he caught your eye and gave you a small nod.

“You make her happy,” he said simply.

And that was all the approval you needed.

[spiritualityloves247]

[thevoidscreams]

In honor of Mating Press March, I give you this Female reader. You are Ferrus Manus's sweet little wife and the two of you are finally getting around to making the Emperor some grandchildren. Ferrus is quite eager to start a family with you and has you in a mating press. Because it's called a mating press.

Day twelve

Ferrus time. Time to get that Manus ween.

Pairing: Ferrus Manus x reader

Warnings: Breeding, more cum than you can shake a stick at and at least a gallon of lube to fit that what this man calls his cock. The jury is still out on that though. Sorry again for this being late.

You walked confidently with the little sheet of paper in your hand towards Ferrus's workshop. A broad smile painted across your face.

The Iron hands at the door stepped aside to allow you to enter. They knew better from personal experience than to block the Iron hand's wife from him.

"Ferrus!" You called, and he turned to face you. A soft smile pulling at the edge of his mouth. "What did the results say?"

"Now is the time. I'm at peak fertility for the next three days."

Your husband stood, nodding. "I see. Well then, we'd better make the most of our time."

"I agree."

You reached out a hand to him, he took it and raised the back of it to his lips before he stood. You just barely came to his lowest rib, and it amused him every time. To see you pressed against him, so small yet so determined. Ferrus took the page and set it on his work bench.

"My father's been inquiring as to our intentions on children. Before I had no answer to give him. But I believe the next time we see him, I will have news to share with him." Ferrus told you and held your hand in his as he led to you away from his work bench and towards the door.

"I hope we do. I wonder how he would be as a grandfather." You imagined him holding your future children on his lap and telling them wild tales from the crusade and before.

His face was calm, but his hands clenched and unclenched excitedly. He was looking forward to having a child with his wife. But also the making of the child as well.

Sex had been a bit of a struggle, given how big he was and how thick his manhood was. A lot of patience and lubricant had been required. It was easier now, but still, it took some time to get him fully in you without causing harm.

Stepping past the threshold of the room Ferrus lifted you up. His lips seeking yours as he carried you to the bed. Hands pulling at clothes till you were bared to his eyes and hands. His mouth explored the dips and curves of your body, leaving a trail of marks wherever his mouth went. "My beautiful wife. You will be the best mother. I am confident about this and there is no one but you that I would rather have than you." He cooed softly. "Do you really think so?" You asked, your voice a soft tremble. "I do. I would not have said so if I did not." Your hands pulled at his body glove and he chuckled. "You must work on your patience." "I don't want to. I want you to put a child in me, Ferrus." The Iron hand smiled at your eagerness as it so closey matched his own.

He stripped himself. You took in the sight greedily.

Ferrus brought a jug out from the closet, it was filled with a clear thick fluid and you shivered with need.

The primarch settles on the edge of the bed. Your legs spread to allow him access. He poured a bit of the clear fluid onto his metallic fingers. "Are you ready?" He asked and you nodded. "Quite, it's been too long."

Ferrus snorted. "We had sex last night." You gave him a coy look. "Which is entirely too long if you ask me, my darling husband."

He shook his head and slipped one lubricated finger into your entrance, he often wished he could feel with his hands how warm you were. However his cock would simply have to do.

You moaned as he curled his fingers and spread the lubricant as much as he could. His fingers were thick and hard, having slept together so recently it was easy to take.

He poured another portion onto his fingers and returned them till his finger glided smoothly. He stopped once satisfied.

He raised the jug to his cock and poured a line down his length, rubbing it to coat the whole length. You watched the movement with great interest. Your legs opened wider as he lined himself up. Slowly almost agonizingly so, he pushed in. His hands gripping your thighs and pushing them up to allow him to reach deeper. He continued to push in, the stretch getting more severe as he did. The deep groan Ferrus let out as he bottomed out shook the bed. You loved his sounds of satisfaction. The ones that you know he was really into. You both rested for a minute, Ferrus massaging your thighs with a look of absolute love and adoration in his eyes. "Shall I begin now my love?" "I'm ready when you are." You smiled up at him. Ferrus pulled out just a few inches before sliding back in. Drawing a moan from you both. He repeated, pulling out just an inch more, than another till he was pulling out almost all the way. But his pace remained steady as he made love gently to you. 

Ferrus was not one to rush his acts of love for you. And that included sex. It was an act that meant more to him than just finding pleasure. It was one of many ways he strengthened your bond. It also mattered to him that you were safe and comfortable when he took you. It was just another thing you loved about him. His pace picked up, his thrust still even, but harder. He had the steady beat only a metronome could match. The thought brought a smile to your lips. Imagining a little tick each time he thrust back in. Your hands brushed over his chest. Indulging in the warmth and stability it provided. "I love you Ferrus." You mumbled. "I love you too." He panted leaning down to nuzzle the top of your head. One wide fingertip found your clit, rubbing circles into the tender nub. Your sweet cries of pleasure were his reward, as was the way your pussy choked his cock. “You’re so beautiful my love. Taking me as we build our family together.”

Your body lit up at the praise and you tingled all over. Sure he was more affectionate with you, but to be spoken to approvingly like that by him was like being patted on the soul. “And you are so very handsome helping me to make that family a reality.” It wasn’t much longer till he had you reaching the peak of your climax. Ferrus followed on the heels of it, stilling deep inside you as he could. Pouring a flood of cum into your womb, so much it overflowed and trickled down your thighs. Ferrus stayed in you a minute longer, allowing most of his seed to remain in you. Your pelvis looked fuller with the sheer volume. There was an audible and wet sound as he pulled out. His cum followed until he pushed a finger into you to stop it. “A shame, such a waste.” He grumbled. “I guess you’ll have to keep replacing it.” You flirted. “That I will.” Ferrus replied, his cock still hard and twitching. It was going to be a long night.

[shaunamilfman]

Werewolf!Shauna drabble

summary: "Vet!reader is walking through the woods near your house one day when you meet a particularly large looking dog."

A/N: spent half this fic seeing how many times I could embarrass werewolf shauna lmao

You're walking through the woods near your house one day when you meet a particularly large looking dog. You eye it curiously as it has an oddly human look of weariness as it looks back at you. 

You squat down slowly while holding your hands out placatingly. You carefully reach a hand towards it while asking softly, "Will you let me pet you, gorgeous?" It tilts its head to the side in interest. 

You grin teasingly. "Yeah. You have such a pretty coat don't you? You must take such good care of it." You say, as if talking to a child. The dog puffs its chest out in pride and trots over to you. You smile in earnest as you immediately start rubbing behind its ear. 

You murmur praises as you gently pet it, taking the time to look it over. "Oh, you're a girl aren't you." You mutter distractedly as you check for a collar, missing the way her ears flatten in embarrassment. "Can't believe no one's put a collar on you. Do you want to come home with me, girl?" You ask. 

The dog looks down, unable to look you in the eyes. You hear the distant sounds of a wolf howling. You give her a concerned look as you say, "We should get you away from here. That wolf would eat a small thing like you right up." You've seem to have taken one liberty too many as she runs off toward the howling with her tail between her legs. 

… 

It's been a few weeks and you've yet to find the dog again, even after you really looked around. You really hope it didn't get eaten. 

It's not a big focus of yours currently, as you've had the creeping feeling that someone's been following you. You obviously can't prove it, but you could have sworn you saw brown hair whip around the corner of a building when you turned around on more than one occasion. 

You know you can't do anything about it, but it makes you unusually anxious as you start locking your animal clinic up. You were extremely proud of your practice, even if it wasn't in the most luxurious of locations; it's located just on the outside of town bordering the woods. 

You've already sent everyone home for the day and are just about to lock up as you hear a persistent scratching at the backdoor. You eye it wearily as you creep towards the door and peer through the peephole. You fling the door open looking dumbfounded: It's the dog!

She trots in slowly as she carries what looks to be a blonde wolf on her back. She stands in the middle of the room looking at you expectantly. You glance back in forth between them and decide just to accept it. Surely, it couldn't get any weirder. You think.  You kneel down to examine the wolf's bloody leg and realize that she got her leg caught in a trap. 

You manage to get the wolf up on the table, with the surprisingly helpful assistance of the dog. You disinfect and treat the wound while the dog watches you carefully. At some point the wolf wakes up and starts whining but the dog walks over and calms it. 

"There you go! Right as rain!" You say as you finish up, reaching a hand up to pet the blonde wolf gently. "Aren't you a gorgeous little thing." You compliment. The wolf preens at the compliment but flinches away at the sound of a low growl. You eye the dog curiously. They both take off and you slowly lock the door behind them. What the fuck. 

It may have been the first time it happened, but it certainly wasn't the last. This town seemed to have a real wolf problem, and for some reason they all turned up in various degrees of injury at your clinic after hours. You offer a sticker one day to a brown wolf that's much bigger than the others. The wolf looks extremely pleased as she bows her head so you can stick it on her forehead. She seems to show it off smugly to the other wolves as they leave. You shake your head in disbelief.

… 

You're closing up yet again when you hear a soft knock at the door. You eye the back door wearily, wondering if they've finally managed to learn how to knock. Your whole body relaxes when you realize it's coming from the front door. That would have been too much. You think. 

You open the front door to reveal a gorgeous brunette bleeding on your doorstep. You immediately look down at a hissing cat that's clearly done a number scratching up her arms. "Would you mind looking at my cat?" She asks softly, "I think he might be sick." You eye the obviously feral cat wearily before inviting her in. 

The two of you make conversation while you take a look at the cat. You announce to Shauna that he seems to be fine to her badly feigned relief. As you're walking her out she seems to gather the courage to ask you on a date. 

You watch her closely for a long moment as you consider. You're pretty sure she's the one that's been stalking you. You'd recognize that brunette hair anywhere, but as you get lost in her brown eyes you decide to risk it. As long as you didn't have absolute proof there was no harm, right? Right? 

… 

Your date goes surprisingly well once you get past the disgust of how rare she ordered her steak. You couldn't help but laugh at the irony of a vet dating a butcher, but you couldn’t deny how charming she was. 

After you've gone on a few dates with Shauna she practically moved in. You'd complain but it seems the old adage holds true. You asked her once who took care of her cat while she was staying with you all the time and she guiltily claimed he ran away. Sure. You thought. 

After you came home from work to see Shauna picking up one half of your couch with one hand while vacuuming under it with the other you decided to just get her a key. 

She always seems to be away for a few days near the end of the month, claiming it's for 'business'. You're not sure what on Earth a butcher would need to go on a business trip for, but you always managed to snag some of her flannels to wear while she's gone. Shauna, for her part, readily offers them to you. 

When you finally found out you avoided Shauna for a few days. Not because you were upset about it, but more because you were embarrassed. It seemed extremely obvious in retrospect. Shauna shows up at your house sheepishly, insisting that she really thought you knew already. 

… 

Shauna always puts herself between you and any perceived threat. It's cute at first, but she seems strangely territorial when she jumps in front of your neighbor's mean dog. You watch her curiously but she absolutely refuses to make eye contact with you. You laugh hysterically as she leads you away as she tries pathetically to justify her reaction. 

Shauna comes home a lot half covered in dirt with twigs in her hair. She's always had a real superpower for always showing up five minutes after you get home, which makes a lot more sense now that you know. She'll hold out her hand with whatever meat she brought from work today and watches you hungrily as you cook it. You made a joke once about how she looks like she fought it herself, but she puffs up in pride so much that you realize it must be true. 

She's always very energetic those days, immediately trying to pull you into the bedroom as soon as you're done eating. She'll run off to take a shower at your gentle reminder. If you're still dressed when she comes out she'll shake her hair out at you like a wet dog. You're really not sure why you find it so charming. 

… 

You keep finding small game on your porch. At first you'd sweep it off, but you started waiting until after Shauna left as she'd look weirdly offended one time when she'd witnessed it. Your eyes widen in realization as you turn to look at her. "Shauna." You say slowly. 

"I'm taking care of you." She defends. "Look how dull your teeth are. You couldn't hunt anything." She's blushing to her hairline, obviously embarrassed. You smile, strangely pleased. 

"Of course my big strong hunter would take care of me." You tease. She scoffs and walks back inside to the tune of your laughter.

[hischierdevils]

okay but what about nico and readers first time together?

The first time they had sex was the night they said I love you but I will give you this:

warning: smut

“He’s so precious.” You gush to Dasha as she adjusts the baby in her arms.

“Thank you.” She smiles down at her son. “We are very lucky.”

“He’ll be in skates by next year.” Yegor jokes with Nico before you all say your goodbyes.

You were just getting ready to leave the rink when Dasha stopped by with the baby and you couldn’t resist getting pictures of the cute family.

“You okay, love?” Nico asks you as you walk into your building. You had been quiet the entire way home.

“I’m just thinking.” You respond as he presses the button on the elevator to take you to your floor.

“About?” He prompts as he takes your hand in his and gives it a reassuring squeeze.

You’ve gotten a lot better at communicating since seeing your therapist but this is something you haven’t even talked to her about yet. “I never wanted kids before.” You admit.

Nico’s heart drops but he tries not to let it show on his face. He’s always wanted kids but if he has to choose between his future offspring and you? “We don’t have to have any.” He says as the elevator opens on your floor.

“I didn’t want kids because I didn’t want them growing up in a household like I did.” You tell him as you both walk down the hallway to your door. “And then I met you.”

Nico looks over at you and notices the strange way you’re looking at him. “Me?”

“You’ve never done anything but love me, Nico. You’ll be an amazing father to our kids.” You smile at him as he opens your front door and pulls you inside. “We just have to have more than one because being an only child sucks.”

Nico kisses you, not knowing how to verbalize everything he’s feeling. “We can have three.”

You grin against his mouth. “Seeing you hold that baby was kind of hot.” You admit.

“Oh yeah?” He picks you up and carry’s you to the bedroom. You giggle as he throws you on the bed but he’s pulling your pants off before you can sit up. “Not as hot as you saying you want to have my children.”

“Nico!” He sticks a finger in your already soaking wet hole before bending over and licking your clit. “Oh my god.”

“You’re so ready for me, baby.” Nico palms himself over his pants with his free hand as he sucks and licks your clit.

“Want you so bad.” You gasp as your back arches off the bed. He inserts another finger in you, pumping at just the right pace that he knows gets you off quickly.

Usually he’d take his time teasing you and making you feel good but he’s too damn hard for that right now. He’s sure he’s going to cum the second he’s inside you. “If you want my cock baby you have to cum first.” He says the words against your skin, sending vibrations through you.

Your body responds to him almost immediately, you cry out his name as your vision goes black with waves of pleasure rolling through you.

“Are you okay, love?” Nico removes his fingers from you and softly kisses your cheek.

“So good.” You grin lazily as you pull him down to the bed with you. “It’s your turn.”

You sit up on your knees and pull down his sweats and boxers, springing his erection free. There’s already pre-cum on the tip and he moans as soon as you wrap your hand around him.

“There’s condoms in my drawer.” He tells you as he closes his eyes and thrusts into your hand.

“We don’t need one.” You say before running your tongue down his length.

“Y/n…” he props himself up on his elbows to look at you as you straddle his hips.

“I have an iud.” You explain as you line him up at your entrance. “I just want to feel you.”

“Oh, fuck.” Nico throws his head back before mumbling something in German as you sink down on him.

You smirk, getting most of what he said. “What was that?”

“I’m not going to last.” He admits as you begin to bounce up and down. He lifts your shirt up enough so he can see your boobs and you help him by lifting your arms up.

“You’re so fucking big, Nico.” You close your eyes as you feel the tension building again. “You feel so good in my wet pussy.”

“Baby…” Nico groans and squeezes your hips. “I’m gonna…”

“Blow your load inside of me.” You instruct as you grind down on him.

“Fuck.” He pulls your bra down and pinches one of your nipples which sends you both over the edge.

“That was amazing.” He says as you collapse on top of him. You smile and kiss his jaw.

“Can you get me a washcloth before I ruin our bed?”

“Give me ten minutes and we can ruin it again.”

[deathmetalunicorn1]

Part 2 of the crossover Wendy Marvell with Rimuru Tempest.

I Wanna see a moment where Shuna made many clothes for Wendy, as Wendy was stunned and speechless. She loved it!

A few scenes about brother-like and sister moment about Rimuru and Wendy would be cute!

-Wendy twirled for Shuna, delight on her face and sparkles on her eyes as she tried on the newest outfit that the ogre princess had created for her, “It’s so cute!!”

-Shuna beamed at the praise, seeing the glee on the young girl’s face as she kept twirling.

-A knock came from the door before, “Whoa this looks amazing Shuna!!” they both turned, seeing Rimuru, in his human form, walking in, seeing all the outfits that Shuna had created, not just for Wendy, but in general.

-Shuna puffed up her chest a bit, “Thank you Lord Rimuru- it’s hard to stop once I get started- I just have so many ideas!” he grinned, seeing her happiness.

-Rimuru then spoke, reminding both girls, “Don’t forget we’re having that party tonight- I’ll see you both there.” They both nodded and he headed out.

-Shuna was very warm with Wendy, the two doting on each other like sisters, and Shuna smiled softly, “May I ask Wendy, what you think of Rimuru?”

-Wendy turned, surprised by the question, before she gave a smile, as she had only been in this world for about two weeks, “I adore him- he’s like the best big brother to me!”

-Shuna was surprised by her answer before her shock melted into a gentle smile, seeing that she wasn’t another potential rival for Rimuru’s affections, at least romantically, unlike when she was fighting with Shion for Rimuru’s attention.

-Once Wendy was done playing dress up, she headed out to meet with a few others, wanting to know more about this world before she saw Rimuru.

-She was quick to skip over, a smile on her face as he turned, sensing her own magic, greeting her, “Yo- you all done with Shuna?” She nodded, giving him a twirl, “Yup- Miss Shuna is so talented!”

-Rimuru grinned warmly before turning into his slime form, leaping into her arms which made Wendy smile as she carried him, telling him, after he asked, that she wanted to learn more about the city.

-Rimuru showed her all around, showing her the different shops, where to get the best meals, and introducing her to more people who had yet to meet her yet.

-Wendy enjoyed herself, window shopping with Rimuru while he guided her around, and when they went to see Benimaru, to remind him about the party, they found him training, shirtless.

-Wendy, unused to seeing men like that, besides Gray, instantly flushed, turning around, looking shy, while Benimaru didn’t look bothered while Rimuru reminded him of the party.

-Once they were walking away, Rimuru was quick to start teasing her, “You got so red~” she stammered, embarrassed and he couldn’t help but laugh, teasing her which made her cheeks puff up in a pout, scolding him.

-He morphed back into his human form, sticking his tongue out like a child, “Come get me then or I’m gonna tell everyone about your crush!”

-She held her cheeks, a look of horror crossing her face, before she gave chase, “NO!! Don’t be mean!!” and his only response was more laughter as the two ran through town, looking like they were having fun.