haileyb444

[haileyb444]

All the Things He Never Said

Pairing: Bob Floyd x Valentina (fem oc)

Summary: Bob’s never been good with words—not the big, emotional ones, anyway. But when a late-night storm strands him and Valentina in the middle of nowhere, silence is no longer an option.

The thunder rolled low like a warning.

Rain sliced sideways across the windshield of the rental truck as Valentina twisted the key in the ignition again. Nothing but a pathetic click. They were stranded halfway between base and the cabin—just the two of them and a storm determined to bury the world in white noise.

She exhaled sharply, brushing platinum strands from her face. “I knew this trip was cursed.”

Bob looked over, calm despite the weather and the fact that their heater was already giving up. “It’s not cursed. It’s just… unexpectedly rural.”

She gave him a look.

He gave a small, sheepish smile in return.

They sat in silence for a moment, the rain drumming on the roof like a heartbeat neither of them wanted to acknowledge.

“You’re doing that thing again,” Val said softly.

“What thing?”

“Saying nothing when you want to say everything.”

Bob adjusted his glasses, eyes fixed on the dark windshield.

“I don’t know how to say it,” he admitted.

She turned toward him, tucking her legs up on the seat. “Try.”

A long pause.

He didn’t look at her when he started speaking—just stared ahead, like the words might disappear if he met her eyes.

“I’m not like the others,” he said. “Not flashy. Not loud. I don’t… sweep people off their feet.”

She was silent, letting him unravel.

“I always thought I had to earn you by being more,” he continued. “Louder. Sharper. Braver. But I never could be. So I stayed quiet. I thought it was enough just to love you silently.”

Valentina’s breath caught.

“But tonight,” he said, finally turning to her, “I realized—if I never say it, you might never really know. So here it is.”

His voice cracked.

“I’m in love with you. Not just the easy parts. All of it. The chaos. The quiet. The way you make me feel like I matter when I’m sure I don’t. I love you.”

The storm faded to background noise.

Valentina blinked once, twice—then surged across the seat and kissed him. Hard. Fierce. Real.

When she pulled back, her forehead touched his.

“I knew,” she whispered.

“But it means more to hear it.”

He nodded, throat thick. “I’ll say it every day from now on.”

“Good,” she murmured. “Because I’ve been waiting.”

—

In the silence that followed, he took her hand and kissed her knuckles.

And for once, Bob Floyd didn’t need perfect words.

He just needed her.

[haileyb444]

The Eyes Only She Sees

Pairing: Bob Floyd x Valentina (fem oc)

Summary: Everyone underestimates Bob—quiet, reserved, always in the background. Everyone but Valentina. Because she sees what others can’t. And when one mission turns deadly, it’s her faith in him that saves more than just his life.

“Why him?”

Valentina had heard it more times than she could count.

Why Bob? Why the quiet guy with glasses, the one who spoke softly and disappeared into mission data sheets while the others competed for attention?

She never answered.

Not because she didn’t know why— But because they would never understand.

They didn’t see the way his mind worked, like a sky full of constellations only she could read. They didn’t hear the subtle brilliance woven through his every word. They didn’t know what it felt like to be loved with such quiet intensity that it made her soul ache.

But she did.

She saw everything.

—

The mission changed everything.

It was supposed to be standard—recon, minimal risk, in and out. But the weather turned fast, and Phoenix’s jet lost navigation, separating the team.

Bob’s voice came through the comms, low and calm. “I’ve got eyes on her.”

Valentina was grounded for this run, forced to listen from Ops. Her fingernails dug into her palm as radar went fuzzy and wind howled over the frequency.

“She’s not responding,” another pilot reported.

“Bob?” Val’s voice cracked.

“I’ve got her,” he repeated, louder this time. “Switching to manual intercept.”

Everyone in the room froze.

“Manual what?” Hangman said, eyes wide.

Val’s heart was in her throat. But she didn’t doubt him—not for a second.

Because she saw him.

She always saw him.

—

Bob brought Phoenix home.

One cracked wing, a scraped landing, and a perfect approach that no one else could’ve pulled off.

Silence fell over the hangar as Bob climbed down from his jet, helmet tucked under one arm. Grease-streaked and calm as ever.

Valentina ran to him.

Didn’t wait. Didn’t ask.

Just launched herself into his arms and kissed him breathless in front of the entire base.

His glasses fogged up.

“Thought you weren’t into grand gestures,” he mumbled, dazed.

“I’m not,” she whispered. “But I’m very into you.”

He smiled—quiet and small, but so wide in the eyes it nearly undid her.

“You always saw me,” he said.

“I still do,” she answered.

And she always would.

Because Bob Floyd was a storm of quiet brilliance. And she’d never let the world forget it again.

[haileyb444]

The Night She Stopped Running

Pairing: Bob Floyd x Valentina (fem oc)

Summary: Valentina never believed in settling down—especially not with someone who made her feel everything. But one unexpected confession from Bob changes everything she thought she knew about safety, trust, and love.

Valentina never stayed in one place.

Not in the literal sense—her body could be grounded, stationed, briefed—but her soul? It moved constantly. Restless. Racing. Always waiting for the other shoe to drop.

She had learned early that nothing lasted.

So she ran before things could end.

Except Bob.

Bob didn’t chase her.

He just waited.

Quietly. Patiently. Like he knew she’d circle back to him every time—tangled, scared, and desperately hoping someone would still be there.

He always was.

—

It was a Friday night when it broke.

The hangar was quiet, the rest of the team long gone. Val stood alone, running diagnostics on her jet like it would distract her from the buzzing ache in her chest. Her hair—platinum, damp from rain—was pulled into a low twist. She wore a black tank top and oil-smudged jeans. Beautiful and untouchable.

Bob appeared in the doorway. He didn’t speak at first. Just watched her.

“I didn’t mean to disappear after the brief,” she said, without turning.

“I know,” he answered.

She finally looked over her shoulder. “I needed space.”

He nodded. “I gave it to you.”

“But you still showed up.”

He took a step in. “Because I always will.”

Val swallowed hard. “Don’t do that. Don’t make promises you might not keep.”

Bob’s voice was soft but firm. “I don’t make promises I don’t mean, Valentina.”

She turned fully now. Her arms crossed, not in defiance—but defense.

“I’m not easy to love.”

Bob smiled, sad and sweet. “Good thing I don’t want easy. I want you.”

Her breath caught.

Then broke.

“I don’t know how to stay,” she whispered.

“Then let me be your anchor.”

Silence.

Then—she crossed the distance between them.

Slow. Scared. Honest.

And when Bob pulled her into his arms, her body melted against him like it had been waiting years.

She clung to him like safety. Like truth.

“I’m terrified,” she breathed.

“I’m not,” he said. “Because I already chose you.”

—

They didn’t go home that night.

They stayed in the hangar, curled beneath a flight jacket and sky.

And for the first time in her life—

Valentina didn’t want to run.

Because Bob wasn’t just a safe place.

He was home.

[haileyb444]

Opposites Ache Alike

Pairing: Bob Floyd x Valentina (fem oc)

Summary: She’s chaos in combat boots; he’s calm in glasses and flight logs. No one understands how Valentina and Bob work—but when a routine mission goes sideways, it becomes painfully clear that opposites don’t just attract… they fall hard.

“You sure he’s the one?” Phoenix asked it softly, like she wasn’t prying—like she hadn’t seen the way Valentina’s hands shook every time Bob took off.

Valentina just smiled. “He’s the only one.”

Everyone called them opposites. Valentina was the sharpest mind in every room, wild and unpredictable. Her platinum blonde hair flew loose beneath her helmet, and she didn’t care about the rules unless she was rewriting them. Bob was calm precision—glass-cut words and safety checks. Always five steps ahead. Always quietly watching her like she held the universe in her palm.

No one understood it.

But they didn’t have to.

—

The mission was supposed to be easy.

A recon flight, nothing complicated. Until one system error led to another, and suddenly Bob’s comms went dark midair.

Valentina’s heart stopped.

She was grounded that day, debriefing another squad. When she heard the crackle of static followed by silence, she ran.

Straight to mission control.

Straight to his name flashing red on the board.

“Get me in the air,” she ordered. “Now.”

“Val—” Mav started.

“I said now.”

—

They found Bob fifteen minutes later, his jet gliding low, smoke trailing behind him. A minor system fire. He was fine. Shaken—but fine.

But Valentina was not.

She met him on the tarmac, wind ripping at her flight suit, eyes blazing.

“I thought I lost you.”

His helmet came off slowly.

“You didn’t.”

Her hands curled into fists. “I could have. I didn’t even get to say goodbye—”

“Don’t.”

Bob stepped closer. “Don’t say that like we’re over. I’m not going anywhere, Val.”

She stared at him—pale skin flushed, platinum hair tangled in the wind, her icy blue eyes wide with unshed panic.

Then she kissed him.

Hard.

Desperate.

Unapologetic.

—

That night, the others still whispered about them.

How wild Valentina was.

How quiet Bob stayed.

But what they didn’t see was the way he held her in the hangar afterward, her knees weak from the panic crash. What they didn’t hear was his voice, whispering steadiness into her skin: “You and me—we’re not opposites. We’re balance. You fly wild. I’ll be the wings that never let you fall.”

And she believed him.

Because no matter what the world said—

They ached the same way.

And loved even harder.

[haileyb444]

Unspoken Rules

Pairing: Bob Floyd x Valentina (fem oc)

Summary: They agreed to take it slow. Keep things light. But one quiet stormy night, a shared room and a single slip of emotion unravel every rule they made.

They made rules.

No sleeping in the same room during base assignments. No holding hands on the tarmac. No “I love you”s until they both agreed it was time.

But rules were made to be tested.

And Bob was never good at pretending he didn’t love her.

It started with thunder. A storm rolling in across the bay, rain tapping at the windows of their shared room—temporary housing for an intel debrief that lasted longer than expected. Val had her feet curled beneath her on the edge of the bed, an oversized hoodie hiding her damp tank top and drawstring shorts. She was reading.

Bob was trying to read.

But every time she shifted—her platinum hair tumbling down her shoulder, the flicker of her icy eyes catching the lightning—he forgot how to form words.

“I don’t think I can sleep tonight,” Val whispered, not looking up.

“Too loud?” he asked gently.

She nodded. “Storm reminds me of that op in Nevada.”

Bob winced. That op nearly killed her.

“C’mere,” he said softly, scooting over. “I’ll read aloud. Might help.”

She hesitated—then slid under the covers beside him. She smelled like rain and vanilla. Her cheek brushed his shoulder.

He started reading.

She started listening.

But neither lasted long.

Because eventually, the book was forgotten. Her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt. Her breath slowed. Then picked up again.

“Bobby,” she whispered.

He turned. “Yeah?”

Her voice cracked. “Can I kiss you? Just—just tonight?”

His throat tightened.

“You never have to ask,” he said.

And when she kissed him, it wasn’t fast or desperate—it was slow, reverent, like she'd been holding it in for years. Like it undid every single unspoken rule between them.

Bob pulled her closer, fingers threading into her platinum hair.

“Val,” he whispered between breaths, “I was never going to make it without you. Not from the first day I met you.”

She pressed her forehead to his. “Then why’d we make all those stupid rules?”

“Because I was scared,” he admitted. “Of screwing it up. Of wanting too much.”

She smiled against his mouth. “You already have me. That’s as much as there is.”

—

In the morning, she was still in his arms. Her legs tangled with his, bare skin soft against his chest. No regrets. No more rules.

Just Valentina and Bob.

No pretending.

Only them.

[haileyb444]

The Pilot, the Poet, and the Storm

Pairing: Bob Floyd x Valentina (fem oc)

Summary: Valentina’s fire burns bright—even when the storm hits hard. But when a mission goes wrong and she spirals into guilt, it’s Bob’s steady heart and quiet devotion that pull her out.

The storm didn’t wait for permission.

It tore across the base in sheets of wind and rain, thunder shaking the windows of the briefing room as lightning carved jagged scars in the sky. Somewhere beneath the crackling boom, the sound of frantic boots and sirens echoed faintly.

Valentina barely heard them.

She sat with her knees pulled to her chest, soaked flight suit still clinging to her skin, the blood on her lip dried and cracked. Her helmet sat on the floor like a fallen soldier—discarded. Condensation beaded along her lashes. Her chest barely rose with each breath.

She hadn’t moved since they pulled her out of the wreckage.

“You weren’t supposed to be on that mission,” Bob’s voice said gently.

She didn’t look up.

“And yet, there you were. Saving everyone else.”

Silence.

Bob crouched beside her, not touching. Not yet. Not while she was still locked inside her own head.

“I read somewhere once that when a candle flickers, it’s not dying. It’s adjusting to the wind.” He reached out slowly. “You’re not broken, Val. You’re just adjusting.”

She closed her eyes—tight. A soft tremor moved through her spine. His voice was too gentle. Too forgiving.

“You almost died,” he said quietly, pain cracking his words like glass. “You—God, Valentina, do you even know what I would’ve done if we lost you?”

She flinched.

He stopped.

Then she finally whispered, “They said I shouldn’t have gone. That if I hadn’t, Payton wouldn’t have—he wouldn’t be in surgery right now.”

“And if you hadn’t gone,” Bob replied, steady and certain, “the whole team would’ve gone down. Don’t do that. Don’t take blame that doesn’t belong to you just to punish yourself.”

Val finally turned to look at him. Her pale skin glowed silver in the emergency light. Her platinum hair clung to her shoulders in damp waves. Her eyes—icy, shattered, hurting—locked with his.

She collapsed into his arms a moment later.

And Bob caught her like she was made of stardust.

—

Later, in her quarters, she didn’t say much. She just sat on her bed in silence, her fingers trembling where they lay on her lap. Bob handed her dry clothes and turned away while she changed.

When he faced her again, her hair was damp and unbrushed, but she looked softer—warmer.

“You stayed,” she murmured, voice still hoarse.

“Always,” Bob answered, stepping closer. “I’ll always stay.”

She hesitated. Then she whispered, “Say something poetic again.”

He chuckled under his breath, sitting beside her. “The storm thinks it can break you,” he said quietly. “But it doesn’t know that you were born lightning.”

She stared at him.

Then kissed him.

And it was a slow, aching kiss—like gratitude and grief and love wrapped into one breath.

—

They lay in bed later with the storm still pounding outside. Bob’s arm curled under her head, her cheek against his chest.

“You scared me,” he murmured.

“I scared myself.”

“You don’t have to hold it all alone, Val.”

She blinked slowly, exhaustion pulling at her. “I know. I have you.”

He kissed the crown of her head and didn’t speak again. He didn’t have to.

The storm would pass.

It always did.

Because Bob was her calm after chaos.

Her poet in a world of noise.

And no matter what burned or broke, he would be there.

Always.

[haileyb444]

Operation: Glitterstrike

Pairing: Jake Peralta x Valentina Reyes (fem oc)

Summary: Valentina Reyes—brilliant, beautiful, chaotic neutral—is the only person at the Nine-Nine who can beat Jake Peralta at his own game: pranks. Their long-running, low-stakes prank war takes an unexpected turn when Jake realizes he might be falling in love with his rival.

It started with a Post-it.

Just one.

On Jake’s desk. In Valentina’s handwriting.

It said:

“Nice try moving my chair. I switched it back. And also glued your drawer shut. Love, V.”

Jake’s eye twitched.

He liked her. Of course he did. She was criminally hot, stupidly smart, and had once beaten Terry at sudoku. But she had crossed a line.

Nobody messed with his drawer snacks.

The prank war escalated quickly.

Week 1: Jake swapped out Valentina’s shampoo for glitter-filled slime. She retaliated by putting rainbow dye tabs in his laundry and giving him “unicorn cop” energy for a week.

Week 2: He filled her locker with 200 rubber ducks. She programmed his phone to only respond to her voice and call him “Detective Sad Pants.”

Week 3: He sent her a fake memo saying Holt wanted a full presentation on “The Psychological Evolution of the Nine-Nine’s Cactus.” She gave said presentation, complete with slideshow, and earned Holt’s praise for her “innovative engagement style.”

It should have been annoying.

But Jake… kind of lived for it.

The way she smirked before retaliating. How her eyes sparkled when she sprung a trap. The way she could keep a straight face while orchestrating full-scale chaos.

She was mayhem wrapped in silk and spreadsheets. And Jake was obsessed.

The realization hit him sometime around the moment he sat in his chair and it loudly meowed—Valentina had installed a speaker under the cushion—and instead of being mad, he laughed.

He laughed like a man totally and irreversibly gone.

It came to a head during the precinct’s annual prank-free zone day.

Jake broke it first.

He rigged the breakroom door to trigger a balloon avalanche. A rookie opened it. Holt got hit. Everyone froze.

Except Valentina.

She slow-clapped. “Took you long enough.”

Jake blinked. “I thought you were going to prank me today.”

“I did,” she said.

“Where?”

Valentina took a step closer, leaned in, and whispered, “I told Holt everything you’ve done the last three weeks. I’m the reason you’re suspended for balloon-related misconduct.”

Jake stared.

Then she grinned. “Just kidding. You should see your face.”

Jake’s mouth opened, closed, then—

He kissed her.

Right there in the breakroom. Covered in bits of deflated balloons and vengeance.

She didn’t hesitate. Just kissed him back like it had been a long time coming.

When they pulled apart, Jake smirked. “So… prank war over?”

Valentina brushed glitter from his hair. “Please. That was foreplay.”

[haileyb444]

The Unsolvable Variable

Pairing: Jake Peralta x Valentina Reyes (fem oc)

Summary: Captain Holt prides himself on logic. But when a stunning, platinum-haired consulting analyst joins a case and solves the unsolvable, he meets his intellectual match—and Jake Peralta’s longtime girlfriend, Valentina Reyes, becomes the precinct’s new obsession.

“Captain Holt,” the commissioner said, “we’re sending over a behavioral consultant from Quantico. She has… an unusual success rate. Use her as you see fit.”

That was Holt’s only warning before Valentina Reyes arrived at the Nine-Nine: long platinum blonde hair cascading over one shoulder, icy blue eyes sharp as a scalpel, and a coat far too stylish for a government employee.

Jake’s reaction? Immediate heart eyes.

Amy’s reaction? Immediate panic.

Terry? Just thankful she wasn’t another Doug Judy.

And Holt?

“She’s… early.”

Valentina offered a pleasant nod. “The train was ahead of schedule. I find delays inefficient.”

Jake nearly swooned. “You get me.”

Holt narrowed his eyes. “You know her?”

“Oh, we’re dating,” Jake said breezily. “Have been for like five years. She’s a genius. Literally. She hacked my phone before our first date.”

“I asked him what time he’d be free,” Valentina added without shame.

Holt adjusted his tie. “Hmm.”

Valentina was assigned to assist on a string of unsolved burglaries with oddly coded messages left behind—something Holt had been privately obsessing over for two months with no breakthrough.

Within one hour of arriving, she cracked the pattern.

“It’s a Fibonacci cypher embedded in Gregorian calendar dates,” she explained, sliding the printouts across Holt’s desk. “Basic substitution with a mirrored offset.”

Holt blinked. “This… this is correct.”

Jake beamed. “She once beat a chess algorithm by staring at it.”

Amy leaned in, whispering to Rosa, “She’s Holt’s new favorite now. I can feel it.”

But it wasn’t all logic and decoding.

Over the next few days, Valentina integrated easily with the squad—helping Terry organize an evidence backlog (color-coded and annotated), beating Rosa in arm wrestling while wearing heels, and even co-hosting the morning briefing when Holt lost his voice.

She was elegant. Unflappable. Brilliant.

Jake loved her.

And the squad?

They were in awe.

Especially Holt—though he’d never admit it aloud.

“You’ve solved a case I deemed unsolvable,” Holt said quietly after one particularly successful arrest. “That rarely happens.”

Valentina tilted her head. “Perhaps the case wasn’t unsolvable. Just misunderstood.”

Holt nodded slowly. “You’d make a terrifying captain.”

She smiled politely. “I’m happy where I am.”

Behind her, Jake was holding up a whiteboard that read: MARRY ME AGAIN BUT FASTER.

[haileyb444]

That Thing You Do

Pairing: Jake Peralta x Valentina Reyes (fem oc)

Summary: She broke his heart at the academy. He never really got over it. Now Valentina Reyes is back at the Nine-Nine, and Jake’s carefully controlled chaos is about to go up in flames.

Jake dropped his bagel. Mid-bite. Mid-chew. Just… dropped it.

The whole squad turned to look at him like he’d grown a second head, but his eyes were fixed on the entrance to the bullpen—where she stood.

Valentina Reyes. Well, technically now Detective Valentina Reyes again.

Her hair was even longer than he remembered—still that impossible platinum blonde shade, falling in waves past her waist—and her skin was the same perfect porcelain, like she hadn’t aged a day since they trained together at the academy. Her eyes met his with a familiar glint: cool, unreadable, and piercingly blue.

Jake stood frozen.

“Oh no,” Rosa muttered. “He knows her.”

“Former flame?” Amy asked, already grabbing her coffee and leaning forward.

“More like former inferno,” Charles whispered. “That’s her?”

She strode toward them confidently, her long coat swaying behind her, heels clicking with intent. She wasn’t trying to impress anyone—she never did. But somehow, that just made it worse.

“Jake.” Her voice still held that teasing lilt. “Still dropping your breakfast when you see me?”

He blinked. “No! I—I just… the bagel betrayed me.”

Valentina smiled politely, then turned to Holt. “Captain Holt. I look forward to working with your team again.”

“You’re a welcome addition, Detective Reyes,” Holt nodded. “Your file is—impressive.”

Jake scoffed under his breath. “You should see her Pinterest board.”

Valentina didn’t respond—though the corner of her mouth twitched. She was so good at getting under his skin without even trying.

Amy shot Jake a look. “You dated her?”

“For three months,” he muttered. “Well. Two and a half. The last week was… ambiguous.”

“She dumped you?” Rosa guessed.

Jake looked mortally offended. “We drifted apart! She got some special task force offer. It was mutual!”

“Right,” Rosa said flatly.

By lunchtime, Jake was not spiraling. Except he was. Just a little.

Because Valentina was everywhere. Taking over his desk while the precinct reorganized, correcting Boyle’s French, helping Terry crack a cold case like it was nothing, and worst of all—laughing with Amy like they were already best friends.

He tried to keep cool. He really did.

Until she beat him at darts. Left-handed.

“I’m just saying,” Jake huffed. “You shouldn’t be allowed to be this good at everything.”

Valentina smirked, tossing her dart onto the table. “You always hated that I was better at aim.”

“Not true,” he said, crossing his arms. “I hated that you knew it.”

She stepped closer. “Still hate losing, huh?”

“Only when it’s to you,” Jake said before he could stop himself.

There was a pause. The air shifted. Her eyes flickered to his, and for the first time all day, her expression softened.

“I missed this,” she said quietly. “This city. This chaos.”

Jake licked his lips, heart suddenly too loud in his ears. “Yeah. It missed you.”

Valentina hesitated. Then she smiled again—but gentler now. “Maybe we pick up where we left off.”

Jake blinked. “Like—like darts?”

She raised a brow. “Sure. Let’s start with darts.”

And just like that, she turned and walked off, leaving Jake standing in the middle of the breakroom with a dumb grin and no idea how he was supposed to go back to pretending he was totally, 100% over her.

Three weeks.

That’s how long it took for the unresolved tension between them to grow unbearable. Not just for them—but for the entire precinct.

Jake and Valentina danced around each other like two static-charged clouds ready to strike. Polite jabs, too-long glances, moments in the breakroom where their hands brushed near the coffee pot. Always something.

And then came the stakeout.

Two detectives. One cramped car. Eight hours. And nowhere to hide.

Valentina was flipping through the case file, sunglasses perched on her head, a pencil between her teeth.

Jake watched her. And watched her. Until she finally glanced up.

“What?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” Jake said. “I guess I just thought you being back would be simpler. I’d either hate you or—be completely over you or—I don’t know. But it’s not simple.”

“No,” she said softly. “It’s not.”

He leaned back in the seat, staring up at the ceiling of the car. “You never really told me why you left. Not really.”

Valentina was quiet for a moment. Then: “I was scared.”

Jake blinked. “Of what? You were the most fearless person I knew.”

“I wasn’t scared of the job,” she said, setting the file aside. “I was scared of you. Of us. You were the first person who ever made me feel like I could have a life that didn’t revolve around just surviving.”

Jake turned to her fully now.

“I didn’t know how to do that,” she continued. “So I ran. Took the transfer. Thought I’d forget you.”

He let that sit between them.

Then he exhaled. “I never forgot you. I tried. Amy even gave me a spreadsheet on how to move on. It had color-coded steps. Step five was burning your sweatshirt.”

Valentina let out a soft laugh. “Did you?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Then I regretted it and tried to piece it back together with tape. It didn’t work.”

Silence again. But it was warm now. Familiar.

“I’m not scared anymore,” Valentina said. “If you’re not.”

Jake’s voice was low. “I’m not.”

And then she leaned over the gear shift and kissed him—slow and certain, like she’d been waiting three years to do it again. Jake melted into it, hand slipping into her hair as the weight of everything unsaid fell away.

When they finally pulled back, Jake grinned. “So… should we tell Holt now or after we make out in this surveillance van for an hour?”

Valentina raised a brow. “You’re assuming we’re going to make out for an hour?”

Jake smirked. “I’ve seen your planner. You’re already penciled in from 7:00 to 8:00.”

She laughed again, the sound bright and easy, and leaned in for another kiss.

This time, neither of them hesitated.

[haileyb444]

Shattered Shadows

Pairing: Xavier Thorpe x Morgana Addams (fem oc)

Summary: Morgana “Ana” Addams had always trusted her sister, Wednesday, even when it seemed impossible. But when Wednesday captures Xavier Thorpe, convinced he’s the monster terrorizing Nevermore, Ana is forced to choose between family loyalty and her heart—and her shadows might be the only thing strong enough to save Xavier.

Something was terribly wrong. Ana felt it in the marrow of her bones long before she understood what had happened.

She’d woken to shadows trembling, anxious whispers drifting through the darkness of her room. It had never happened before—not like this. Shadows spoke only when something was truly amiss.

“Wednesday,” Ana murmured to the darkness, dread pooling deep within her chest.

Her sister had always been relentless, driven by logic and suspicion. But this��this felt different. Darker.

She pushed open the hidden passage leading to Xavier’s art studio, dread building as she moved soundlessly through the corridors, shadows guiding her steps. The moment she entered the studio, Ana’s heart froze.

The room was empty. Xavier’s art supplies were scattered, his chair overturned, a sketchbook abandoned.

Her breath quickened. “Xavier?”

Silence answered.

Ana’s chest tightened painfully as a vision slammed into her without warning—a sudden, violent flash of images.

Xavier chained, desperate, confused. Wednesday standing in cold judgment, her expression devoid of mercy. The basement beneath Crackstone’s crypt, dimly lit and echoing with accusations.

When Ana’s vision ended, she collapsed to her knees, gasping, trembling, struggling to keep her consciousness intact. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears.

Wednesday had taken him.

Her sister had gone too far.

Ana stormed into the crypt, shadows rippling furiously around her, a tangible storm of darkness. Wednesday stood calmly before Xavier, bound tightly, head hanging, bruises blooming on his face. Bianca and Enid lingered uncertainly in the background, exchanging nervous glances.

“Ana,” Wednesday said flatly, showing no remorse. “I didn’t want you involved—”

“You had no right,” Ana hissed, shadows swelling around her, swirling violently enough to make the candles flicker. “Release him. Now.”

Wednesday didn’t flinch. “He’s the monster. He’s killed people, Ana.”

Xavier lifted his head weakly, his eyes pleading, confused. “I didn’t—Ana, you know me.”

She met his gaze briefly, pain tearing through her heart. “I do.”

Wednesday narrowed her eyes. “You’re letting emotions blind you.”

“Perhaps,” Ana whispered darkly, stepping closer, shadows thickening protectively around Xavier. “But I trust him, Wednesday. And I trust myself.”

Bianca stepped forward hesitantly. “Ana, Wednesday saw things—”

“Wednesday sees fragments!” Ana shouted, shadows twisting dangerously around her, forming dark shapes that clawed at the crypt walls. “I’ve seen deeper. He’s innocent.”

Xavier’s voice trembled. “Ana—”

She turned to him, her shadows brushing gently against his bruised skin, absorbing his pain. “Hold on.”

Wednesday moved to block her, expression fierce. “I can’t let him go. Not until I know—”

“You’ll have to go through me,” Ana warned softly, voice shaking with rage and hurt. Shadows rose menacingly, darkening every corner, flickering dangerously close to her sister.

Wednesday paused, the rarest flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. “You’d choose him over me?”

“I’m choosing what’s right,” Ana said, her voice breaking slightly. “You’re wrong, Wednesday. Please—don’t make me fight you.”

Wednesday’s eyes softened, just barely, sensing the genuine pain beneath Ana’s anger. “Ana…”

Ana shook her head, heart shattering. “Please.”

A heavy silence lingered. Slowly, almost unwillingly, Wednesday stepped aside. Ana’s shadows immediately surged forward, swiftly breaking the chains binding Xavier. He fell forward into Ana’s waiting embrace, weakened and shaking.

“I’ve got you,” Ana whispered against his hair, her shadows holding him upright.

Xavier leaned heavily against her, eyes closing in relief. “You came for me.”

“Always,” she breathed softly.

She glanced over at Wednesday, who stood silently watching, expression unreadable. Her sister remained unyielding, unapologetic—but for the first time, Ana thought she saw regret in those dark eyes.

Ana took Xavier back to his dorm, shadows shielding them from prying eyes. She eased him onto his bed, gently tracing her fingertips along his bruised wrists.

“You shouldn’t have had to choose,” Xavier murmured quietly.

Ana shook her head. “Neither should you.”

He managed a weak smile. “I never would’ve hurt anyone.”

“I know,” she whispered, voice thick. “I always knew.”

He reached up slowly, fingertips brushing her cheek. “Thank you for believing me.”

Ana pressed her forehead gently against his, her voice barely audible. “You never gave me reason not to.”

Outside the window, the shadows watched protectively, ready to defend them both. Family had always come first—but now Ana understood that sometimes, family could be chosen.

And she would always choose him.

[haileyb444]

Tokyo Drift: Bound in Motion Masterlist

Pairing: Han Lue x Vivienne Boswell (oc)

Chapter 1: First Encounters, Familiar Roads

[haileyb444]

Beneath the Spotlight

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Luna Moon (oc)

Summary: Luna Moon, a quiet genius with an ethereal presence, meets Jeon Jungkook by chance at a bustling café. What begins as an accident blossoms into something deeper, but the pressures of Jungkook’s fame and Luna’s unconventional life soon make their connection anything but simple.

Luna stepped into the café, her platinum blonde hair tumbling past her hips and catching the light like silk. She tugged at the hood of her oversized hoodie, trying to shield herself from the curious glances that always followed her. Her icy blue eyes scanned the room, her mind already calculating how quickly she could grab her coffee and escape back into anonymity.

She never planned on standing out—she hated attention. But there was only so much you could do when you looked the way she did. Even in Seoul, where individuality flourished, Luna’s striking features always seemed to draw eyes like a magnet.

The barista called her name, and she hurried forward, avoiding eye contact. But just as her fingers closed around the coffee cup, someone reached for the same drink.

“Oh, I think this one’s mine,” a deep voice said.

Luna blinked up at the man standing before her. His dark eyes, warm and curious, met hers, and she froze. He was breathtaking, with jet-black hair tucked under a beanie, wearing a simple black jacket that somehow made him look effortlessly cool. Her mind registered his face instantly—Jeon Jungkook. As in, the Jeon Jungkook.

“No, I’m pretty sure this is mine,” Luna replied softly, her voice steady despite the fact that her heart was threatening to leap out of her chest.

He turned the cup around, pointing at the name scrawled on the side. “Unless your name is Jungkook…”

“It’s not,” she admitted, a ghost of a smile tugging at her lips. “But it is my order. I think they wrote the wrong name.”

Jungkook tilted his head, studying her with an amused grin. “Alright, then. I’ll trust you.”

Luna reached for the cup again, her fingers brushing his. The warmth of the contact startled her, and she pulled back quickly, her pale cheeks flushing.

“Thanks,” she mumbled, clutching the cup like it was a lifeline.

Before she could disappear into the crowd, Jungkook spoke again. “Wait. You’re not even going to tell me your name?”

She hesitated, glancing over her shoulder. “Luna.”

His smile widened, as if her name amused him. “Luna. I like it. It suits you.”

That should’ve been the end of their interaction. A fleeting moment in a crowded café. But fate—or perhaps something more intentional—had other plans.

A week later, Luna found herself seated at the same café, laptop open as she worked on a presentation for her research. The world around her faded as she typed, her focus unshakable. That was, until someone slid into the seat across from her.

“Do you always work this hard, or is today special?”

Her fingers paused mid-typing. She looked up to find Jungkook sitting across from her, a teasing smile on his face.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, her voice sharp with surprise.

“I come here all the time,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “You don’t?”

“I do… I just didn’t think I’d run into you again.”

“Fate works in funny ways, doesn’t it?” His smile softened. “Or maybe I just couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

Luna blinked, unsure how to respond. No one had ever spoken to her so boldly, so directly. It was disarming, to say the least.

Their meetings became more frequent after that. Jungkook seemed to pop up everywhere—at the café, in the park near her apartment, even once at the library. Each time, his presence felt effortless, like he belonged in her world even though she knew he didn’t.

Luna tried to keep her walls up, to remind herself that he was a global superstar, and she was just… her. But Jungkook made it impossible. He asked her questions that no one else thought to ask, listened intently to her answers, and made her feel seen in a way she never had before.

“You’re different,” he said one evening as they walked along the Han River. “Most people either want something from me, or they don’t bother to look past the surface. But you… you don’t care about any of that, do you?”

Luna shrugged, the cool night air brushing against her skin. “I don’t care about fame, if that’s what you mean. But I care about you. And honestly, that scares me.”

“Why?” he asked, stopping to face her.

“Because I don’t belong in your world, Jungkook,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. “I don’t know how to handle cameras or gossip or people constantly judging me. I’m just… me.”

Jungkook reached out, his fingers gently brushing against hers. “And that’s exactly why I’m here. Because you’re just you. And that’s all I need.”

But not everyone was as accepting of their relationship as Jungkook was. As news of their connection began to spread, Luna found herself thrust into an unfamiliar spotlight. Articles dissected her appearance, strangers questioned her intelligence, and critics claimed she wasn’t good enough for him.

“You don’t have to do this,” Luna said one night, her voice quiet but firm. “You don’t have to fight for me.”

Jungkook cupped her face in his hands, his dark eyes searching hers. “But I want to. I’m not letting go of this, Luna. Not now. Not ever.”

Tears filled her icy blue eyes, and for the first time, she let herself believe him. Let herself believe that maybe, just maybe, they could make it work.

As Jungkook pulled her into his arms, the weight of the world felt just a little lighter. Together, they could face whatever came their way—even beneath the harshest spotlight.

[haileyb444]

Hidden in the Spotlight

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Luna Moon (oc)

Summary: Jungkook and Luna Moon share a quiet, hidden marriage, away from the prying eyes of the world. Their love is their sanctuary, but when a single slip-up during a livestream exposes Luna to BTS’s global fanbase, everything changes.

Jungkook leaned against the kitchen counter, watching Luna as she pulled her long platinum blonde hair into a loose braid. Her pale skin seemed to glow under the soft light, and her icy blue eyes caught his for a moment before she turned back to the stove.

“You know, I think you get more beautiful every day,” Jungkook said, his voice warm and playful.

Luna shot him a skeptical look. “You’re just buttering me up so I won’t complain about you leaving your socks everywhere.”

He laughed, crossing the small space to wrap his arms around her waist from behind. “Okay, maybe a little. But I mean it.” He kissed her cheek softly, his dark eyes filled with affection. “I still can’t believe I get to call you my wife.”

Luna relaxed into his embrace, the corners of her lips curving into a small smile. “You better keep me a secret, Mr. Worldwide Handsome. I’m not ready to have the world judging my cooking skills yet.”

He chuckled, spinning her around to face him. “The world can wait. You’re mine, and that’s all that matters.”

Keeping their relationship hidden had been Jungkook’s idea, though Luna wholeheartedly agreed. They’d gotten married in a quiet ceremony with only their closest family members present, and for the past two years, they’d lived in the in-between—a life shared in private while the rest of the world knew nothing.

Even BTS, Jungkook’s second family, had only recently found out. The revelation had come one night during a group dinner when Jungkook, after a few drinks and Namjoon’s probing questions, had blurted out, “I’m married, okay?”

The room had gone silent, all six pairs of eyes locking onto him. Luna, who had been seated quietly in the corner of the restaurant, froze in her seat.

“You’re what?!” Taehyung exclaimed, his chopsticks clattering to the table.

Jungkook had scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. “Married. For, like, two years.”

Hoseok’s jaw dropped. “And you didn’t tell us?”

“It’s not like I didn’t want to,” Jungkook had explained quickly. “I just… wanted to protect her.”

The group had turned to Luna, who was trying not to sink into her chair. Her fingers fidgeted with the hem of her sweater as she offered them a small, awkward smile. “Hi.”

For a moment, the tension was unbearable. But then Jimin, always the peacekeeper, grinned and said, “Well, it’s about time we met her. Welcome to the family, Luna.”

That broke the ice, and soon enough, Luna found herself surrounded by questions, jokes, and genuine warmth. Jin had insisted she call him “oppa” (“I’m older, so it’s my right!”), Namjoon had asked about her work as a biochemical engineer, and Taehyung had declared her “too pretty” to stay hidden forever.

By the end of the night, Luna felt like she’d gained six older brothers, each as protective and loving as Jungkook himself.

But secrets have a way of slipping out, especially in the world of social media. Jungkook had always been careful during his livestreams, keeping their apartment’s personal touches out of frame. But one evening, after hours of working on a song, he decided to go live without double-checking the room.

He was sitting at his desk, casually chatting with ARMYs about his day, when he leaned back to grab his water bottle. The movement shifted the camera slightly, revealing a small picture frame on the bookshelf behind him.

It wasn’t just any picture—it was of him and Luna on their wedding day. Her long platinum blonde hair flowed down her back as Jungkook held her close, both of them beaming with happiness.

The comments exploded almost immediately.

“Wait, who’s that???”

“Is that… a wedding photo?!”

“JUNGKOOK EXPLAIN RIGHT NOW.”

“ARMY, ARE WE SEEING THIS?”

Jungkook froze, his wide eyes darting to the chat as the realization hit him. He quickly adjusted the camera angle, but it was too late. The picture had been seen, screenshotted, and shared across the internet in mere seconds.

“Uh…” He cleared his throat, running a hand through his hair. “I think I just messed up.”

The chat flooded with questions, but Jungkook took a deep breath, his voice steady as he said, “Okay, ARMY, I guess it’s time to tell you the truth. I… I’m married.”

The chat went wild, a mix of shock, excitement, and disbelief.

“Her name’s Luna,” he continued, his voice softening as he spoke about her. “She’s the most amazing person I’ve ever met. We’ve been married for two years, and I kept it private because I wanted to protect her. But… I guess you know now.”

The news spread like wildfire. Within hours, Luna’s name was trending worldwide. While most fans were supportive, sending messages of love and congratulations, others weren’t as kind.

Luna tried to stay offline, but the weight of the world’s attention was hard to ignore. She worried about how it would affect Jungkook, about whether she was ready for this kind of scrutiny. But when Jungkook came home that evening, he found her sitting on the couch, her knees pulled to her chest.

“Hey,” he said gently, sitting beside her. “You okay?”

She looked up at him, her icy blue eyes filled with uncertainty. “I didn’t want this for us. I don’t know if I can handle it.”

Jungkook took her hands in his, his gaze steady and full of love. “You don’t have to handle it alone. I’m here, Luna. No matter what happens, I’ll be right here with you.”

Her lips trembled, but she managed a small smile. “You really mean that?”

“Always,” he said, pulling her into his arms. “You’re my wife, and I’m proud of you. Proud of us. Let them say whatever they want. At the end of the day, it’s just you and me.”

And it was. Even as the world buzzed with their story, Luna and Jungkook found strength in each other. Their love, hidden for so long, now stood in the spotlight—but it was as unshakable as ever.

[haileyb444]

Chapter One: First Encounters, Familiar Roads

Series: Tokyo Drift: Bound in Motion

Pairing: Han Lue x Vivienne Boswell (oc)

Summary: At sixteen, Vivienne Boswell steps into Tokyo’s racing scene and meets the enigmatic Han Lue after a daring race that changes everything. At eighteen, their connection deepens into something undeniable. By twenty-one, Vivienne’s life in Tokyo takes a sharp turn when her younger brother Sean arrives, bringing with him old memories and fresh challenges.

Vivienne Boswell gripped the steering wheel, her pulse thrumming in sync with the low growl of the RX-7’s engine. She wasn’t supposed to be here. Sixteen years old, thousands of miles from her Alabama home, and standing in the middle of Tokyo’s underground racing scene—a world her father would have a heart attack over if he knew. But that was part of the thrill.

She adjusted her seatbelt, icy blue eyes scanning the crowd gathered around the starting line. Neon lights bounced off chrome, the night alive with the smell of burnt rubber and fuel. This wasn’t her first time driving, but it was her first race. Her palms were slick with sweat, but she tightened her grip on the wheel and forced herself to breathe.

“You sure about this, princess?” The racer in the car beside her sneered, his smirk barely visible through the window.

Vivienne arched a pale brow, her platinum blonde hair tucked into a loose braid. “You’ll be choking on my dust in about five minutes.”

The countdown began. Three. Two. One. The roar of engines exploded around her as the cars took off. The first corner came fast, but Vivienne’s instincts were faster. She shifted gears, her movements smooth and precise, navigating the tight turn with practiced ease.

The crowd roared as she overtook the first car, then the second. By the halfway point, she was neck and neck with her sneering opponent, her heart pounding as she pulled ahead on the final stretch.

When she crossed the finish line, the cheers were deafening. Vivienne leaned back in her seat, exhaling sharply as adrenaline coursed through her veins.

“Not bad for a first-timer.”

She turned to see a man leaning casually against the hood of her car, his dark eyes glinting with amusement. He was older—mid-twenties, maybe—with an aura of calm confidence that made her instantly wary.

“You’re not going to congratulate me?” she asked, stepping out of the car and crossing her arms.

He smirked. “Congratulations. Now, who taught you to drive like that?”

She shrugged, playing it cool. “Self-taught. Why? You looking to take notes?”

The man chuckled, holding out a hand. “Han.”

“Vivienne,” she said, shaking his hand.

“Welcome to Tokyo,” Han said, his smirk softening into something like approval. “Stick around. I think you’ll fit right in.”

At eighteen, Vivienne stood in the middle of a garage in Tokyo, her hands coated in oil as she worked on the engine of a Skyline GT-R. Two years had transformed her from a wide-eyed girl with something to prove into a force to be reckoned with. The racing world had taught her more than just how to win—it had taught her how to survive.

“Need a hand?” Han’s voice broke through her concentration.

She glanced up, a grin tugging at her lips. “You offering, or are you just going to stand there and look pretty?”

He smirked, stepping closer. “I’m good at multitasking.”

They had spent the past two years dancing around each other, their connection undeniable but unspoken. It wasn’t until her eighteenth birthday, over a shared bottle of sake on the rooftop of Han’s garage, that they finally stopped pretending.

“Why me?” she had asked, her voice soft as they sat side by side, the Tokyo skyline glittering around them.

Han had looked at her, his dark eyes serious in a way that made her breath catch. “Because you don’t try to be anyone else. You’re just… you.”

It was that night that everything changed.

Vivienne wiped her hands on a rag, leaning over the open hood of her Skyline. The garage was quiet except for the faint hum of the city outside and the occasional clink of tools as Han worked nearby on his RX-7. Her platinum blonde hair was pulled back into a loose braid, and she wore one of Han’s old shirts over a pair of fitted jeans, her usual attire for late-night tune-ups.

“You’re going to overthink that engine into pieces,” Han said without looking up, his voice calm but teasing.

Vivienne straightened, tossing the rag onto the workbench. “You say that now, but when this car leaves yours in the dust tomorrow night, you’ll eat those words.”

Han smirked, finally glancing over at her. “If that happens, I’ll admit defeat. Until then, maybe take a break. You’re too tense.”

She rolled her eyes, but the corner of her mouth twitched into a faint smile. “I’m not tense. I’m focused. There’s a difference.”

“Focused, huh?” Han leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms. “That why you’ve been staring at that engine for twenty minutes and haven’t touched it?”

Vivienne opened her mouth to retort but stopped, realizing he was right. With a quiet sigh, she turned and perched on the edge of the workbench, her hands gripping the edge.

“Sean’s flight lands tomorrow,” she said after a pause.

“Figured it was something like that,” Han replied, his tone even. He walked over and leaned beside her, close but not crowding her space.

“I don’t know if I’m ready for this,” Vivienne admitted, her icy blue eyes fixed on the floor. “Sean’s… a lot. And Dad? He’s useless. It’s going to be a mess.”

“Probably,” Han said with a shrug.

She shot him a look, narrowing her eyes. “That’s helpful.”

“I’m not here to sugarcoat things,” he said, his smirk softening as he nudged her shoulder lightly with his. “But you’ve handled worse than Sean. And I’ve got your back.”

Vivienne tilted her head, studying him. “Even if he’s a pain in the ass?”

“Especially if he’s a pain in the ass,” Han said, grinning.

She let out a small laugh, shaking her head. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, you keep me around,” he teased, his voice low and warm.

Vivienne smirked, leaning closer to him. “Maybe I like a challenge.”

Han’s eyes flickered with amusement as he leaned in, brushing a quick kiss to the side of her mouth before pulling back with that trademark smirk. “Guess that makes two of us.”

She laughed again, the tension in her shoulders finally easing. “Come on,” she said, hopping off the bench. “I’ll finish tuning my car if you promise not to sulk when I win tomorrow.”

Han pushed off the wall, following her back to the car. “No promises, but I’ll try to be gracious.”

Vivienne shot him a playful glare over her shoulder. “Gracious, my ass.”

Han laughed, the sound light and easy, and for the first time that night, Vivienne felt like things might just work out.

Narita Airport was loud, chaotic, and filled with the usual hum of announcements and hurried footsteps. Vivienne Boswell stood near the arrivals gate, arms crossed and tapping her fingers impatiently against her sleeve. Her platinum blonde hair was pulled into a loose ponytail, but a few strands had escaped, framing her pale face. She wasn’t the type to fidget, but waiting for Sean made her restless.

She spotted him before he saw her—his dark duffel bag slung lazily over one shoulder, his stride purposeful, and his expression caught somewhere between annoyance and resignation. The last time she’d seen her little brother, he’d been fifteen, trying to talk his way out of a suspension.

He finally looked up and caught sight of her, stopping in his tracks. “Viv?”

“Who else?” she called, smirking.

Sean made his way over, shaking his head. “Figured Dad would send you to pick me up. Did he even remember I was coming?”

“Nope,” Vivienne said, popping the “p” as she reached for his bag. “But I did.”

Sean snorted, letting her take the bag. “Some things never change.”

“Yeah, like you causing trouble,” Viv said, shooting him a look. “I heard what happened, Sean. A demolition derby through your high school parking lot? Really?”

Sean winced, shrugging. “It wasn’t that bad.”

Vivienne arched an eyebrow, her icy blue eyes pinning him in place. “You totaled two cars. In what universe is that ‘not that bad’?”

Sean smirked, his confidence flaring for a moment. “One of them wasn’t mine.”

Vivienne rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the faint smile tugging at her lips. “You’re unbelievable.”

As they exited the airport, Sean’s expression turned curious. “So, what’s the deal with Dad? He’s been living in Tokyo this whole time, and now he suddenly cares enough to take me in?”

Vivienne paused, shifting the bag over her shoulder. “He doesn’t care. Not really. He’s just doing his duty as far as he’s concerned. That’s why I’m here—to make sure you don’t get lost in the shuffle.”

Sean frowned, his voice softening. “You don’t have to, you know. Look after me, I mean.”

Vivienne stopped walking and turned to face him, her expression serious but not unkind. “Sean, you’re my brother. Of course I do. Dad might not give a damn, but I do.”

Sean looked at her for a long moment, then nodded. “Thanks, Viv.”

She smirked, turning back toward the parking lot. “Don’t thank me yet. You’re about to get your first crash course in Tokyo life, and trust me, you’re not ready.”

Sean followed her, his eyes widening as they reached her car—a sleek, black R34 Skyline parked conspicuously among the more mundane vehicles. “This yours?”

Vivienne tossed his bag into the back seat, sliding into the driver’s seat. “It is tonight,” she said with a grin.

Sean climbed in, glancing around the interior with a mix of awe and suspicion. “So, what do you do out here, exactly?”

Vivienne started the engine, the low rumble filling the air as she smirked at him. “You’ll find out soon enough, little brother. Buckle up.”

As she pulled out of the lot and merged into the chaos of Tokyo’s streets, Sean realized Vivienne wasn’t the same big sister he’d known in Alabama. She was sharper, more confident, and clearly thriving in a world he didn’t understand.

For better or worse, Sean knew his life in Tokyo was about to get interesting.

[haileyb444]

The Rebel Knight

Pairing: Gwaine x Anastasia (oc)

Summary: Gwaine is framed for a crime he didn’t commit, forcing him to flee Camelot and live as an outlaw. His wife, Anastasia, works from within the castle to clear his name while Gwaine struggles to survive in exile, determined to return to her.

The accusation came swiftly and without mercy. Gwaine, standing before Uther’s court, was accused of conspiring with a band of thieves to steal the royal treasury. The evidence was damning: a forged letter bearing his name, a witness claiming to have seen him with the thieves, and gold supposedly recovered from his chambers. Anastasia stood by his side, her striking green eyes blazing with anger and disbelief as the accusations were read.

“This is absurd,” she said, her voice sharp. “Gwaine would never betray Camelot.”

Uther’s gaze was cold and unyielding. “The evidence suggests otherwise.”

Gwaine, ever the rogue, crossed his arms and smirked. “Your evidence is as flimsy as my patience, my lord.”

“Gwaine,” Anastasia hissed, shooting him a warning look. She turned back to Uther, her copper hair catching the light as she stepped forward. “I beg you to investigate further. There must be more to this.”

Uther’s expression softened slightly as he looked at her—one of the few people he respected. But his tone remained firm. “Until we uncover the truth, Sir Gwaine will be stripped of his title and exiled. He is not to return to Camelot until his name is cleared.”

Anastasia’s heart sank as the guards approached to escort Gwaine out. He met her gaze, his brown eyes filled with unspoken words. “It’ll be all right, Ana,” he said softly. “I’ll come back to you.”

The first days of Gwaine’s exile were brutal. The forests surrounding Camelot were cold and unforgiving, and the knights tasked with ensuring his departure had made sure he left with nothing but the clothes on his back. Food was scarce, and the threat of bandits loomed at every turn. But what weighed on him most was the thought of Anastasia—alone in the castle, fighting to prove his innocence.

Anastasia, meanwhile, wasted no time. She spent hours pouring over court records, speaking with servants and guards, and even sneaking into the archives at night. She was certain the evidence had been planted, but finding proof was no easy task. Her mind raced with questions: Who would frame Gwaine? Why? And how could she prove it before it was too late?

One night, as Gwaine sat by a small fire in the woods, he heard rustling in the bushes. He reached for the dagger he’d managed to scavenge, his muscles tense. But instead of a threat, a young boy emerged, his face dirty and his clothes tattered.

“What are you doing here, kid?” Gwaine asked, lowering the dagger.

“I ran away,” the boy said, his voice trembling. “They said my family stole from the king. They… they killed them.”

Gwaine’s jaw tightened. He knew all too well the cruelty of those who enforced the king’s justice without question. “What’s your name?”

“Tom,” the boy said quietly.

“Well, Tom,” Gwaine said, offering him a piece of bread he’d managed to barter for earlier. “You’re safe with me. For now.”

Back in Camelot, Anastasia’s investigation finally bore fruit. She discovered that the witness who had claimed to see Gwaine with the thieves was a known liar, paid off by an unknown benefactor. The gold supposedly found in Gwaine’s chambers had been planted by a servant who had mysteriously disappeared. Anastasia presented her findings to Arthur, who had always been more sympathetic to Gwaine than Uther.

“I believe you,” Arthur said, pacing his chambers. “But convincing my father is another matter.”

“Then I’ll do it myself,” Anastasia said firmly.

Arthur paused, looking at her with admiration. “You’re braver than most knights I know, Anastasia.”

Meanwhile, Gwaine and Tom had become an unlikely pair. The boy’s sharp wit and quick reflexes reminded Gwaine of himself at that age, and he found himself growing protective of the child. They traveled together, avoiding bandits and hunting for food. Despite the hardships, Gwaine’s humor never wavered, and Tom found himself laughing for the first time in weeks.

“You’re not so bad for a knight,” Tom said one evening as they sat by the fire.

Gwaine smirked. “Don’t tell anyone. I’ve got a reputation to maintain.”

Anastasia’s confrontation with Uther was tense. She presented her evidence with a calm but firm demeanor, her green eyes never wavering as she laid out the facts. Uther listened in silence, his expression unreadable. When she finished, he leaned back in his chair.

“You’ve proven that the evidence was falsified,” he said slowly. “But that doesn’t mean Gwaine is innocent.”

Anastasia’s fists clenched at her sides. “You have no proof of his guilt. Keeping him in exile is unjust.”

Uther sighed. “Very well. Bring him back. But if he steps out of line again, the consequences will be severe.”

When Gwaine returned to Camelot, escorted by Anastasia and Arthur, the reunion was bittersweet. The people whispered as he walked through the courtyard, their eyes filled with suspicion. But Gwaine held his head high, his gaze focused on Anastasia.

“You did it,” he said softly as they embraced.

“I told you I would,” she replied, her voice thick with emotion. “I’ll always fight for you.”

Arthur cleared his throat, a small smile playing on his lips. “Welcome back, Gwaine. Try not to get into any more trouble.”

“No promises,” Gwaine said with a grin. But as he looked at Anastasia, his expression softened. “I think I’ll be sticking close to home for a while.”

That evening, as they sat together by the fire in their chambers, Anastasia leaned against Gwaine’s shoulder, her fingers laced with his.

“I missed you,” she said quietly.

“I missed you more,” he replied, pressing a kiss to her temple. “You’re the only reason I kept going, Ana. You’re my home.”

She smiled, her green eyes shining with love. “And you’re mine, Gwaine. Always.”

[haileyb444]

The Rogue’s Gamble

Pairing: Gwaine x Anastasia (oc)

Summary: Gwaine bets his prized sword in a high-stakes card game, only to realize too late that he’s been tricked. Anastasia, his fiery and sharp-witted wife, devises a clever plan to help him retrieve it, leading to a chaotic and daring heist that leaves the two of them laughing in the aftermath.

The tavern buzzed with energy, the smell of stale ale and roasted meat filling the air. Gwaine leaned casually against the edge of the table, his grin wide and confident as he held his cards close to his chest. His long fingers tapped lightly on the wood, the rings on them glinting in the firelight.

“Your move,” he said, his brown eyes twinkling with mischief.

The man across from him, a rotund noble with a crooked smile, leaned forward, studying Gwaine carefully. “You’ve got quite the poker face, knight,” he said, tossing a few more coins into the pile at the center of the table. “But I wonder… do you have the coin to match your confidence?”

Gwaine smirked, glancing at the pile of gold coins in the middle of the table. “Oh, I’ve got something better than coin.”

He reached to his side, unbuckling his prized sword—the one Arthur himself had gifted him—and laid it on the table. The onlookers gasped as the firelight reflected off the blade’s polished steel.

“This should cover it.”

The noble’s eyes lit up with greed. “Quite the prize,” he murmured, stroking his chin. “All right, knight. Let’s see if your luck holds.”

The tension in the tavern was thick as the final card was dealt. Gwaine’s grin faltered for the briefest of moments as he looked at his hand. The noble’s smile widened.

“Well?” the man drawled. “Let’s see them.”

Gwaine laid his cards down, his heart sinking. Three of a kind. Not bad, but not good enough.

The noble slapped his cards onto the table—a full house. The crowd erupted in cheers and gasps as the noble reached across the table to claim the sword.

Gwaine leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. “Well, that’s a shame,” he said lightly, though the loss stung more than he let on. “Looks like the sword’s yours.”

Back at their chambers, Anastasia was seated by the fire, her copper hair falling in soft waves over her shoulders as she flipped through a book. When Gwaine entered, his usual swagger was missing, and she immediately looked up, her striking green eyes narrowing.

“What did you do this time?” she asked, closing the book and setting it aside.

“Why do you assume I’ve done something?” he replied, though his sheepish smile gave him away.

“Because you have that look,” she said, rising to her feet. Her long gown swayed as she crossed the room, and she poked him lightly in the chest. “Out with it.”

Gwaine sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I… may have lost my sword in a card game.”

Anastasia raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching as she fought back a smile. “The one Arthur gave you? The one you said you’d never part with?”

“That’s the one,” he admitted, wincing slightly. “But in my defense, the cards were terrible.”

Anastasia shook her head, though there was amusement in her eyes. “And who has it now?”

“Some pompous noble. He cheated, I’m sure of it.”

“Well,” she said, a sly smile spreading across her face, “then we’ll just have to get it back.”

The plan was simple—on paper. Anastasia had scouted the noble’s manor earlier that day, noting the guards’ shifts and the location of the armory. Gwaine would create a distraction, giving her enough time to slip inside and retrieve the sword.

“Are you sure about this?” Gwaine asked as they crouched behind a hedge near the manor’s gates.

“Are you doubting me?” Anastasia replied, her voice teasing. “I’m the brains of this operation, remember?”

He grinned. “And I’m the charm.”

“That’s debatable,” she muttered, but the fondness in her tone was unmistakable.

The distraction worked flawlessly. Gwaine burst into the courtyard, stumbling as though drunk and singing a bawdy tavern song at the top of his lungs. The guards approached him, weapons drawn, but his charm and wit quickly had them lowering their swords, laughing despite themselves.

Meanwhile, Anastasia slipped through the side entrance, her steps silent as she made her way to the armory. The room was dimly lit, rows of weapons lining the walls. She spotted Gwaine’s sword immediately—it gleamed even in the faint light, standing out among the rest.

She reached for it, but as her fingers closed around the hilt, the sound of footsteps made her freeze. Thinking quickly, she ducked behind a large barrel just as the noble entered.

“What a beauty,” the man said, running his hand along the blade. “A shame that fool knight didn’t realize what he had.”

Anastasia’s jaw tightened. Fool knight, indeed. She waited until he moved to the far side of the room, then slipped out with the sword in hand.

When she returned to the courtyard, Gwaine was still charming the guards, though his act was starting to wear thin. Anastasia whistled softly, catching his attention. He glanced over, saw the sword in her hand, and grinned.

“Well, gentlemen,” he said, clapping one guard on the shoulder. “It’s been a pleasure, but I must be going.”

Before they could respond, he darted toward Anastasia, who was already running toward the hedge. Together, they disappeared into the night, laughing as the shouts of the guards faded behind them.

Back at their chambers, Gwaine took the sword from her, holding it up and admiring it like a long-lost friend. “You’re amazing, Ana,” he said, pulling her into his arms. “What would I do without you?”

“Lose everything, probably,” she teased, resting her hands on his chest.

He laughed, kissing her forehead. “You’re not wrong.”

Anastasia smiled, her green eyes sparkling. “Just try not to bet anything else that’s irreplaceable, all right?”

“No promises,” he said with a wink. “But I’ll try.”

She rolled her eyes, but her laughter was soft and warm. “You’re lucky I love you, Gwaine.”

“I know,” he said, pulling her closer. “And I’m lucky you’re mine.”

[haileyb444]

The Guardian of the Lost

Pairing: Percival x Arabella (oc)

Summary: While on a mission to aid a small village, Percival and Arabella discover an orphaned child with a mysterious magical ability. As they take the child under their protection, they realize powerful enemies are hunting them. Together, they must shield the child and uncover the truth behind the magic while protecting their growing family.

The air was heavy with ash and the acrid stench of burning wood as Percival dismounted his horse. The village they had come to aid had been ravaged by raiders, its once-thriving homes reduced to charred remains. Arabella followed close behind, her icy blue eyes scanning the wreckage as she clutched her healing satchel tightly. Her long platinum blonde hair, usually immaculate, was pulled into a loose braid, wisps escaping as the wind tugged at her pale cheeks.

“I didn’t expect this much destruction,” she murmured, her voice laced with sorrow.

Percival stepped beside her, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Neither did I. Let’s see if anyone’s left.”

The village was eerily quiet, save for the crackling of dying embers. They moved carefully through the ruins, searching for survivors. Arabella’s heart ached as she spotted scattered toys and belongings—evidence of the lives torn apart.

It was then that she heard it—a faint cry, almost drowned out by the wind. She stopped abruptly, her head tilting as she strained to hear it again.

“Percy,” she whispered, grabbing his arm. “Do you hear that?”

He nodded, his sharp ears catching the sound. Together, they followed the cry, weaving through the rubble until they reached the remnants of a small house. The roof had collapsed, and the walls were scorched black, but the sound was unmistakable now—a child’s sobs coming from beneath the wreckage.

“Help me,” Arabella said, already dropping to her knees and pulling at the debris. Percival joined her, his strength making quick work of the heavy beams. After several tense moments, they uncovered a small hollow where a young boy, no older than five, was curled up. His face was streaked with soot, his eyes wide with fear.

“It’s all right,” Arabella said softly, reaching out to him. “We’re here to help you.”

The boy hesitated, his small body trembling, but her soothing tone seemed to calm him. He reached for her, and she lifted him into her arms, cradling him close.

“Is anyone else with you?” Percival asked gently.

The boy shook his head, his voice barely a whisper. “They’re… gone.”

Arabella’s heart broke at his words. She brushed a strand of hair from his tear-streaked face. “What’s your name?”

“Elias,” he said quietly.

“You’re safe now, Elias,” she promised, holding him tightly.

As they made their way back to Camelot, Percival noticed something unusual about Elias. The boy was quiet, but there was a strange energy about him. Arabella sensed it too—moments when the air around him seemed to shimmer faintly, as though magic were pulsing just beneath the surface.

It wasn’t until they stopped to make camp that night that the extent of his abilities became clear. Arabella was tending to a small fire when Elias, sitting beside her, began to cry softly. As his tears fell, the fire flared suddenly, growing unnaturally large before settling again.

Percival, who had been sharpening his blade nearby, froze. “Did you see that?” he asked, his gaze flicking to Arabella.

She nodded, her voice calm as she turned to Elias. “Elias, sweetheart, how did you do that?”

The boy looked down, his small hands clutching his knees. “I didn’t mean to,” he said, his voice trembling. “It just happens.”

Arabella exchanged a glance with Percival, her concern mirrored in his eyes. “It’s all right,” she said gently. “You’re not in trouble. We just want to understand.”

The boy hesitated, then whispered, “The fire listens to me.”

Their journey back to Camelot was fraught with danger. Word of Elias’s abilities seemed to spread quickly, and they were soon pursued by mercenaries who sought to capture the boy. Arabella used her magic sparingly to create barriers and confuse their pursuers, while Percival fought fiercely to protect them.

One night, as they rested in a hidden glade, Arabella sat with Elias, teaching him how to control his abilities. “It’s like breathing,” she explained, holding her hands out to demonstrate. “Focus on the flame. Feel its warmth, its energy. Don’t let it control you—you control it.”

Elias nodded, his small face scrunched in concentration as he practiced with a tiny spark. Percival watched them from a distance, his heart swelling with pride and affection. Despite everything, Arabella’s patience and kindness never wavered.

“You’re amazing,” he said later, as they sat together by the fire. “The way you care for him… it’s like he’s always been ours.”

Arabella smiled, leaning into him. “Maybe he was meant to be. I can’t explain it, but I feel… connected to him.”

Percival wrapped an arm around her, his voice soft. “Then we’ll protect him. Together.”

When they finally reached Camelot, they brought Elias to Gaius, who confirmed their suspicions. “His magic is powerful,” the old physician said. “But it’s also dangerous. If the wrong people learn of it, he’ll never be safe.”

Arabella exchanged a look with Percival, her resolve hardening. “Then we’ll keep him safe. He’s part of our family now.”

Uther’s response to Elias’s presence was less than welcoming, but Arthur intervened, promising that the boy would be protected under Camelot’s laws. With time, even the king’s icy demeanor softened toward the child.

Months passed, and Elias thrived under their care. He grew stronger, his abilities more controlled, and his laughter filled their home. One evening, as they sat by the fire, Elias looked up at them and asked, “Am I really part of your family?”

Arabella smiled, pulling him into her lap. “Of course you are, Elias. You’re our son now.”

Percival ruffled the boy’s hair, his heart full. “And we’ll always protect you. No matter what.”

Elias beamed, his small arms wrapping around both of them. For the first time in a long time, they felt complete.