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itstimetojellyfish · 4 months

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Visiting you . ( Please just sleep , I’m worried ) ( Jing Yuan x reader)

This is technically my first post so….. yeah! I hope you enjoy this very rocky post! There will be some problems with transitions .

It’s been a while . Hasn’t it?

You can barely remember the warmth he emitted when he was in bed with you , asleep with your arms around you .

He made you feel so safe and warm , loved too . His large arms circling your body as he cuddled you , nuzzling your neck while you drifted off to sleep .

Yet…. The feast can never last forever . More mara - struck have appeared . Jing Yuan can no longer be with you so often . He has to be at the office , day and night , to lead the cloud knights and arrange everything.

( It worries you .)

the man has a very self-destructive habit of overworking himself to the point he downs 3 espressos a day . It’s a pain trying to help him get away from the coffee without having him experience withdrawal symptoms. It’s also a pain trying to get him to stop overworking himself.

Yet.

You do so anyway, you nourish him when he forgets to eat . You remind of his sleep schedule, you even do some of his work for him when he falls asleep at the divine foresight , draping a blanket you brought over him and letting him sleep in your lap .

Today is no different . As you walk down the streets to his office , you can’t help but just wonder , has he not fainted yet ?

(You wouldn’t be surprised if he did .)

Nevertheless, you open the door to see that he’s still miraculously alive and well , but unfortunately, not unscathed from his selfless nature . Deep black eye bags help you understand how sleep deprived he is . Your lover doesn’t even react to your presence , too focused on the slowly growing work load in front of him .

Papers are piled all around him , some even on top of him as his pen vigorously scribbles down information on top of the documents. (You wish you could take him away from this position and let him sleep for as long as he’d like.)

You initiate conversation with him , hoping he’ll get the clues that you will take over the position for him while he sleeps a dreamless slumber .

“ Jing Yuan … how are you ? You must be tired .“ You place down the bags you carry , and walk over to him .

He looks up .

Your heart breaks right then and there .

He looks so tired and worn out . Hair a mess , eyes threatening to close , his skin a pale shade of peach , almost white , barely any color in it .

“ oh ….. my love …. I’m doing fi-“ He attempts to reassure you , knowing your nature . However , his physical condition talks for himself.

“ What do you mean by fine?! Don’t lie to me! “ you rush over to him and cradle his face in your palms , turning his head side to side to inspect him .

( it’s a miracle he’s alive right now )

“ I’m okay , it’s honestly nothing. “It’s an attempt to reassure you , though it fails miserably.

You go to your bags and pull out a blanket and pillow , you always have these items with you whenever you visit him .

“ Aeons…… how many time do I have to tell you to take care of yourself?! You worry me so much! And the people won’t be able to do anything with a sleep deprived general! You’ll probably faint before you even go outside!” You scold him , however , it has an underlying tone of concern.

You walk over to him and attempt to coax his head into your lap so he can get the much deserved rest he needs . However , the attempt fails as he resists the temptation of your soft , plump thighs cushioning his head .

“ No , stopping worrying please , I’m fine …. And even if I do faint, Fu Xuan is there to take my place when I’m resting . “ He raises a hand and turns to look at you , amber eyes softening at your worried expression , eyes watering as you take in the state of him .

He tangles a hand in your hair and pulls you down to his lap , gently coddling you , trying to reassure you . It doesn’t work , you know better . All he’ll do is just work more .

So you struggle , attempting to just get him to relax , “ Jing Yuan! Diviner Fu won’t be there forever you know! “After a while you both give up and try to have a compromise.

Your lover sighs , “ Please dear , just rest your head , I’ll be fine .” He smooths a hand over your side , gently rubbing up and down in an attempt to soothe your frazzled nerves .

“ Jing Yuan ! “ You bat at his arm as you try to get him to rest , “ I should be the one telling you that! You look like you’re about to faint any moment!” The tears in your eyes start to pour .

His eyes soften . Your lover closes his eyes and then shakes his head , making out a compromise . “ How about this . You rest for now , on my chest , so you know I’m alive . “

You glare at him .

He gently kisses your forehead, “ Hold on now , I haven’t finished . “ You raise an eyebrow waiting for the other half .

“ If you let me soothe your nerves for today , then tomorrow, I’ll go home , and rest with you . “

You say yes immediately. It wasn’t a 2 week long break he needed , but it was something better than him staying up .

He smiles sweetly .

It warms your heart .

Soon enough , you’re sleeping in bed , with his warm hands over your stomach and long arms wrapped around you .

( its warm and it helps you finally sleep )

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Thanks for reading! I really hope you enjoyed!

#jing yuan x reader #this man needs some sleep #Honkai star rail #Jing Yuan x you #Jing Yuan x gn #Reader is worried to death #Sleep deprived Jing Yuan #angst #Fluff #Jing Yuan is very stubborn

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ponderingmoonlight · 7 months

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Reader going from being Gojo's lover to being his worst enemy part l

Pairing: Gojo x fem!reader; Geto x fem!reder (18+)

Word Count: 2,6k

Synopsis: You were always the perfect girlfriend for Satoru Gojo: innocent, quiet and weak. Until something inside you snapped. Until you decided you don't want to be weak anymore. Until you realized that Satoru Gojo isn't your lover, but your enemy...

Warnings: big ass tw for anyone who isn't into dark reader, smut in Geto's part (you will be warned in the fic), reader going absolutely crazy, cheating, language, violence, Gojo is a bit of a jerk in this, couldn't bring myself to proofread so excuse spelling mistakes

Notes: I know you guys wanted this in one part but honestly, I've been so depressed these last weeks that I simply wasn't able to write that much. I thought one part is better than nothing though and I hope I'll be able to post part ll within the next days 🤍 If you don't mind, let me know what you think, your support means so much!

“(y/n), are you alright?”

“There’s absolutely no reason to go this hard on her, jerk.”

You stare into the blue sky above, hating yourself for the way your eyes start to sting in tears, for how weak you are. No, not again. Don’t cry in front of all of them because of something so minor. But no, this isn’t something minor.

He beat you again.

“If you want to get better than rank 4, you have to try harder, babe”, your boyfriend jeers at you.

How many times did he say that already? You lost count a long time ago. It’s a miracle that you’re still alive, given the fact that Gojo Satoru seems to lose his patience with you more and more.

No wonder. After all, you are his girlfriend. How is it even possible for the strongest jujutsu sorcerer of this time to have a girl of rank 4? You’ve been stuck with your poor abilities since joining jujutsu high, only able to sneak into training because your parents are friends of the Gojo clan.

It shouldn’t surprise you. Your life has always been like this: useless and puny. No matter how hard you try, no matter how much you train, you’ll never be as good as Satoru, Suguru and Shoko. You are nothing more than their shadow, doomed to watch them from the side-lines.

“Hey, are you alright, (y/n)? That looked pretty rough”, Suguru interferes gently while helping you to get up on your wobbly legs.

“You can at least say sorry, y’know? There was absolutely no reason to beat her this hard when she’s already down”, Shoko barks towards your boyfriend.

“Oh don’t worry babe, there isn’t enough space for two legends in this relationship anyway”, Satoru jokes while wrapping his arm around your clearly bruised shoulder tightly.

Even though all you want to do is cry and hide, you force a smile onto your lips. Yes, this is what you always do. Staying by his side, looking pretty and innocent while smiling kindly. Maybe this is your purpose in life, maybe this is everything you could ask for. Many girls are getting blue over the fact that Satoru is your boyfriend. You aren’t in the position to ask for more power, for the strength to stand up for yourself. So many people would kill for a life like yours.

You should be thankful.

Right?

…Right?

-the mission-

“I’m here to save you again, (y/n)! Hey, are you cryin’?”

You hate the way hot tears stream down your face, body too weak to fight against the debris that buried you.

“If I was crying, would you console me? I’d definitely like that”, you hear Mei Mei purr from the other side

“Oh you wouldn’t cry Mei. You’re strong.”

“Hey, how dare you to talk about (y/n) like that!?”, Utahime cries out.

Your mind goes blank, body sinking into the dirt.

“Oh, you wouldn’t cry Mei. You’re strong.”

Those words. Those oh so cruel words repeat themselves over and over in your mind. He surely didn’t mean it like that, didn’t wanted to hurt you. After all, Satoru just wants to look out for you, he’s always there to help you out. His words shouldn’t hit you with full force, you shouldn’t feel this burning inside your chest, your hands shouldn’t start trembling.

You let out the shaky breath you didn’t know you were holding, eyes staring into distance. But they do and force a stinging feeling up from deep within along with one single thought.

You have enough.

Enough of smiling kindly all the time. Enough of letting others push you around and pick on you. Enough of even Satoru making fun of you. Enough of being nothing but his innocent girlfriend to the world. Enough of all the fighting, all the hiding.

For the first time in forever, you don’t force a smile onto your lips but furrow your eyebrows instead. You are…more than that.

“Don’t listen to that guy…”, you hear Utahime mumble next to you while she frees your body.

As if in trance, you follow her back up, the new feeling you just discovered tickling underneath your skin.

“She knows I didn’t mean it like that. Right baby?”

But instead of hearing the usual low “yes” coming from your lips immediately, you just stand there and stare at him before turning on your heels and leaving.

Satoru’s eyes widen. You. Leaving him standing in the rain?

“Did you hear me say something to you, babe?”, he shouts after you.

You don’t even hear him anymore, blood rushing through your ears. No more excuses, no more playing the victim, the lover. Your hands are still clenched into tight fist while you leave without turning your head.

That’s enough.

“I’m…more than that”, you mumble to yourself while staring at your naked reflection in the bathroom mirror.

You just need to work even harder, train yourself even better, change your mindset. No, you aren’t only Satoru Gojo’s girlfriend. You are powerful as well, you can feel it tickling in your fingertips.

So you worked your ass off in silence. Trained when nobody was watching, read countless books, started to introduce you to yourself.

“Beat you again!”, Satoru announces proudly while you let him throw your body into the air.

But something inside you stops you from letting all that progress show on the surface. You force the usual small smile onto your lips, let your boyfriend treat you like the dirt underneath his shoes. Over and over, without anybody noticing that something has changed.

No, you aren’t the little (y/n) they all know anymore. You are so much better than that, so much stronger than what they see in you.

Your fingers dig into the sides of the sink until it bursts under your lilac touch. Fuck this whole jujutsu high, fuck the way they all smile down at you. Fuck the way Satoru sees you as nothing but his personal toy. A maniac grin creeps up your face, violent laughter shaking your body in the middle of the night while you stare into your own stone-cold eyes.

This ends right here and now. And you will show them when the time is right.

-next week-

Will surprise Suguru this evening for his birthday. Try not to get killed while I’m gone. Love ya <3

You huff to yourself, the arrogance dripping from your boyfriend’s text message almost unleash your powers in the middle of your dorm.

No, you need to get a hold of yourself at least a little longer. After all, a few more hours won’t hurt over the fact that you went through this for over 4 years by now.

But today, you will make Satoru Gojo pay for the countless times he made fun of you. Today, you will wipe that cheeky grin off his face. Oh, how much you long for the moment when reality hits him with full force, when he finds out what your capable of.

How will he react when he finds out that you, a grade 4 sorcerer, are able to use hollow purple before he does? How will he react when he finds out his girlfriend fucked his best friend before disappearing into thin air and becoming his worst enemy? You worked on this plan for so long, replayed it over and over in your head. But now it’s time. Today, you will make the whole jujutsu world pay for all the things they did to you.

With a satisfied grin, you pull the exquisite pair of stockings you just bought for this exact moment up your legs, looking at yourself in the mirror. Oh, those black dessous definitely suit you well. Perfect for seducing the best friend of your boyfriend.

You put a simple dress on and get going. Well, is it necessary to fuck with Suguru? Absolutely not. You could just disappear right here and now and continue your plan. But where would be the fun of it? Just the thought of seeing that look of horror on Satoru’s eyes when he realizes you aren’t the girl he knows anymore, him not only losing his girlfriend, but his best friend as well. He deserves a little pain for all the things he said to you, for the countless times he made you feel worthless.

Exactly 30 minutes left until Satoru will arrive at Suguru’s doorstep as well. 30 minutes to seduce your boyfriend’s best friend, 30 minutes that will change your life forever. Are you ready to let go of the sweet and innocent girl you were, the easy life you had in the eyes of others as Satoru’s girlfriend without any power?

“Hell yes”, you mumble to yourself, heart almost beating out of your chest while you knock against his door.

Geto was always a true sweetheart, the one who always stood up for you even against Satoru. His oh so charming smile, his inviting hands, his character made of pure gold. He really doesn’t deserve what comes next.

But power demands sacrifice and pain. Maybe he’ll understand.

As soon as he opens the door, you crumble in front of him and cry. Crocodile tears stream down your face in rivers, shaky hands covering your face.

“(y/n), what’s wrong? Did someone hurt you? Come on, get in!”

His hand is placed on your back and pushes you softy into the middle of the room. Instead of saying another word, he simply wraps his inviting arms around you.

“Satoru…”, you mumble.

You can clearly see the way his jaw tenses. It’s nothing new to Suguru to see you cry because of his best friend. Geto told him over and over to treat you better, to not be so rough, to look after you in a caring way. And even though he always admired how well you kept your composure, moments like this one happened once in a while.

Nothing noticeable, right?

You burry your head against his chest, arms wrapped around his neck. Oh, you never noticed how tight his muscles are, how trained he is underneath that wide uniform.

Time to take it off.

“I can’t take it anymore, Suguru”, you cry it.

Well, at least this isn’t a lie. Before he’s able to stop you, you press your lips against his. Suguru feels so different, tastes sweeter than Satoru with a hint of mint. Your hands cramp around his neck, force him to stay in place while he looks at you with his eyes widen.

“(y/n)…Please stop”, he breathes out.

Stopping? Why does he press his body against yours, then? Why do his lips start to move against yours in sync, his eyes slowly but surely fluttering shut? Suguru always held a special place for you in his heart.

And you’ll use this spark of weakness against him.

“I can’t”, you mutter against his lips while pushing him towards his bed.

He grabs your hips when you force him to sit down on his bed, dark eyes gazing up at you like in trance.

“We can’t…(y/n), this is wrong in so many ways, Satoru is my best friend-“

“I am your friend too”, you interrupt him, hand gliding up and down his chest.

“I heard it when you said that Satoru doesn’t deserve me.”

He lets out his breath, whole body tensed up like stone underneath your merciless touch. You let yourself glide onto his lap, let yourself fall onto his already rock-hard erection. No, there’s absolutely no doubt in the fact that Suguru wants you.

And that your plan will work.

“I always wanted you more. You were always so good to me, Suguru. Now let me be good to you”, you hush oh so innocent.

His eyes roll into his skull, a pained expression painted on his face while he fights for what seems like dear life underneath your merciless touch. Your words do things to him he’d never dare to speak out. Damn, Satoru is his best friend, you’ve been his girlfriend for over 4 years and right now, you’re sitting on his lap. Right now, he can’t help but imagine you underneath him while groaning his name into his ear with your sweet voice.

“Fuck”, he hisses through gritted teeth, arms pushing you harder against his pants.

Your hips start to move on their own, sensitive spot rubbing over and over against him until your wetness covers his clothes delicately, a low groan escaping his lips before he can stop himself.

Enough of that. Without thinking twice, you unzip his pants and push them down his muscular legs, heat radiating through your whole body. This is absolutely hot, so exciting that you almost come from the sheer thought of fucking Suguru. But what excites you even more is that Satoru might walk through this door every given minute in order to surprise his best friend…

“Suguru”, you moan into the thick air as soon as his fingertips brush over your clit.

“(y/n)”, he growls against your ear, head hidden against your neck.

“(y/n)…”

Your heart skips a beat, fingers digging deeper into Suguru’s skin. Yes, this is it. The moment you’ve been waiting for, the moment you’ve begged for. As if in slow motion, you turn your head around.

There he stands, bright blue orbs widen in horror while he stares at you and Suguru.

“Didn’t expect you here”, you lie, a satisfied grin plastered on your face.

Elegantly, you get up from Suguru’s lap and put your panties up.

“(y/n)…you….you fucked my best friend”, the white-haired boy breathes out.

“I need to make an announcement.”

His numb eyes dart towards you. You, the girl he loved for over four years. You, the cute and innocent (y/n) he was always proud of, the girlfriend literally any guy could ask for. You…you aren’t capable of something like that. You can’t even stand up for yourself and now…Now you’re fucking his best friend?

“See this as my first act of revenge for all those years you pushed me around like the dirt underneath your shoes, Gojo.”

The way you spit his last name at him almost sweeps him off his feet.

“What the hell are you talking about? I was always good to you and you…you just fucked my best friend”, he shouts, the numb undertone in his eyes changing into pure rage.

“Good to me? You treated me like a hamster, like your weak little pet. But let me tell you, I’m not that weak girl you taught me to be anymore.”

Roughly, you grab his wrist, light the whole room purple.

“(y/n)…”, you hear Suguru breathe out behind you.

“This can’t be true.”

Satoru’s free hand yanks towards your body, aims for control all over again. It has always been like this. Gojo, who thinks the world belongs exclusively to him. Gojo, who thinks he can treat you like a price. Gojo, who thinks you can’t live without him.

“Don’t you dare to touch me ever again”, you purr at him, escaping his grasp with ease while pushing him so hard that he stumbles backwards.

“You aren’t my boyfriend anymore. From now on, you are my enemy. And I’ll never let you forget about that, Gojo Satoru.”

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queerwhohatesithere · 2 months

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raising money for bottom surgery!

cashapp: $chamomileflowers

venmo: wisteria_flowers

go fund me:

let me share some. i had my first consult for surgery last year. after that, another consult, and i started getting electrolysis (hair removal) which is still in process. this has been in the works for a long time and i’ve been thinking about it for even longer. i’m fully aware that at this point my surgery date of march 10th, 2025 is close and i’m asking for a lot. i’m honestly asking for a miracle.

money has been extremely tight for me lately. one of the reasons for that is my concussion in october, which led to a hospitalization, the depleting of my savings, and several follow up PT and vestibular therapy visits. i haven’t been grocery shopping in months. i get all my food from a food pantry as well as necessities. i’m trying to keep rent my only expense but things happen, such as me having to pay a vet bill for my dog, or smaller expenses adding up like cat litter and food.

in essence, i’m struggling. so this is me asking for help, putting myself out there, asking you reading this to give anything you can, or to share or repost this. i know times are tight for everyone so obviously don’t feel obligated to donate if you can’t. spreading the word however, would be amazing. i really, really want this to happen. i don’t want to have come this far to fall flat on my face.

here’s where i’ll end. while i am extremely glad i’m trans, it is so so hard for us to survive right now. so if you’re trans, i see you. i’m glad you’re alive, and that you keep putting one foot in front of the other. all we can do is support each other and do the best we can. truly, that’s all anyone can expect from you. thank you for reading, i hope you have a lovely day :))

#trans #queer #lgbtq #gay #transgender #trans masc #bottom surgery #phallo #phalloplasty #vagina preserving phalloplasty #transgender male #ftm #ftm surgery

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yurinaa-world · 10 months

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Could I request a Knight Argenti x Fem Vash stampede reader who’s a wanted for 60 billion dollars? How would they meet and how Arenti falls inlove with them, also I love your stories!!!

Characters: Argenti x Female Reader

Synopsis: with reader that's like Vash

Warnings: Fluff, spelling mistakes,

Notes: OHHHH YEAHHHHH this is what this blog was made for!! my dearest VASHH (Thank you for liking my writing!!!)

𝒜𝓇𝑔𝑒𝓃𝓉𝒾

Honestly, he was going after you (kind of like what happened with the pompom in his trailer), running for your life with your hood up, and trying to conceal your face with your glasses as extra protection! “have mercy!” You scream with an empty gun—not like you were going to shoot someone! But to scare him?) running into an alleyway to escape from him.

“You the humanoid monster I shall strike you down, starting with your head." Those were the words you heard when seconds later, in that alleyway, you just ran into his chest, looking up in dread. He was there!! And strike down?! You didn’t even do anything!! Dropping your gun and putting your hands up spread out in front “Please don’t! It's a misunderstanding!” Sweat is dripping down your forehead.

(10/10 for not being a good experience) He strikes your head but falls backward, the blade missing you for an inch, your hood falling backward, and glasses off your face. And now, blade to your neck. You're totally done with it!! But he doesn’t slash your neck! He goes down on his knee to get a better look at you.

(Love at first sight) just not saying anything, almost touching your face with his hands, but you run off before he could, leaving your gun there too. Doesn't it look like you get another one since the condition of your clothes says a lot (okay, rich man) stitches of colored cloth trying to match the color of your original jacket, scratched-up face, and such an old gun?

Still a beauty with all that, somehow a beauty without even trying.

He plans on finding you again. You peck his interest with just one "fight.” You could have shot him with the bullets in your pocket (that fell out when you ran away) but didn't, and you added that you stayed away from civilians that you could have brought into the chase but didn't. Why not? You had so many opportunities. You were known for being heartless, like some sort of mob boss who showed no mercy and played dirty whenever you had the chance.

You had been laying low, knowing that if you were to be found out again, you'd get hunted like the only wild (and only animal alive) cow on an island full of hungry people, but the people are more money hungry and looking for vengeance. The few bits of cash you have (a bit from people who didn’t know who you were and pitted you, and some from the ground).

At night, lying in a tree and looking at the low amount of money you have, you wouldn’t be able to eat, not even a doughnut! And your gun. It’s gone! You left it there with the crazy knight! It’s been a few days; you'll have to get a new one, or if a miracle happens, you could get your gun back!

A large bang hits the tree you're on, making the whole tree vibrate. You fall off the tree and hit your head first into the ground before flipping from your head to your back in pain and saying, "Apologies." Hearing those words, you look up to see him. ”I’m fine,” you laugh at getting up from the ground, batting off the dirt.

“Are you going to chase me again?” You look at him, nervous that he was here to finish the job. “No, I’d like to have something back to you," he says, handing you your gun and bullets. "Why?" You ask, looking at your gun, which looked better than it did before.

It was as if it were perfect, just like you and your beauty.

if you liked this, consider tipping me on ko-fi! it'd mean a lot!

#✧*:･ﾟ✧:･ Yurinna's Writing :･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧#honkai star rail #hsr #hsr x reader #hsr x you #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #hsr imagines #Argenti x Reader #Argenti x You #star rail #star rail x reader #star rail x you

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vodika-vibes · 4 months

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Hey! I know he's a bit of a rare clone, but would you consider writing for maze? he's from the repcomm books and is endearingly (Imo) professional and surly 👉👈

Not That Hard

Summary: When one story ends, another one begins. Maze, formerly a Republic Soldier, is now a bounty hunter. He’s used to things being orderly, everything has a place, and everything should be in its place. So when he ends up locked in a small cell with the woman he’s been searching for, a woman who’s been missing for three weeks, he knows that everything is about to be turned on its head.

Pairing: Pre Maze (Alpha-26) x F!Reader

Word Count: 1722

Warnings: None

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: So, I've never written Maze before, but I'm always happy to write any of the Alphas, or any star wars character. His page on Wookieepedia wasn't the best, but I did the best I could. I hope you like it! Also, I've been watching a lot of Numb3rs, so that's where the basic idea of this came from.

Maze leans back against the stone wall, his gaze drifting from the woman sleeping on the singular cot in the cell to the door, and then back again. He’s glad that she’s asleep. He wasn’t sure that she would fall asleep, honestly.

He leans over and tugs the thin blanket a little higher over her shoulders. The blanket won’t do much to keep the cold out, it’s too thin, but it’s enough that she can sleep.

Three weeks ago the University of Theeds reached out to him, telling him that one of their Teachers had gone missing. They said to him that someone had broken into her home, torn the place to pieces, and taken her.

The University hired him to find her since he was something of an expert on finding people.

The fact that she’s alive is a damned miracle, in his opinion. After three weeks, statistics indicate that he should have found her in a ditch somewhere.

He’s never been so glad to be wrong in his life.

Still, the fact that they haven’t killed her suggests that they want something from her. Maze shifts so that he’s sitting on the cot beside her, tired of sitting on the ground.

He needs to think.

Why would someone want a University Professor?

Absently, Maze brushes a strand of hair off her face as he thinks about what he knows about her.

She’s young, barely brushing 25 years old. She’s an only child. Her mom died from heart disease when she was a child, her dad recently retired to a lake house. There’s no other family.

She’s single, and her only friends are people who work at the University with her. Honestly, it sounds like a lonely life to him, but according to her colleagues and friends, she’s seemed lonely or unhappy.

He can respect that.

Maze’s eyes snap to her face as she releases a quiet noise and shifts on the cot, seemingly to curl into his warmth while also opening her eyes. “You should go back to sleep, Professor. It’s early.” He says quietly.

She sighs and shakes her head, “No point. They’re going to be coming soon.” Slowly, she sits up and shifts so she’s able to press her face against his shoulder.

“What do they want?” Maze asks, mentally kicking himself for not asking her earlier. But then, her injuries were pretty severe. It makes sense that he would put that aside.

“I’m a Bio-Engineer.” She replies tiredly, “They want me to tell them how to break into BioGen.”

“Why?”

“BioGen’s biggest thing is weaponizing viruses.”

Maze stiffens and his gaze snaps to her face, “BioWeapons are illegal. Even in the Empire.”

“They weaponize them so that they can try and develop cures for them. It’s all legal and above board.” She reassures, “Even in the Empire.”

“Why’d you leave?”

“A Tenured Professorship at the University of Theeds is a great honor, not to mention it pays very well.” She replies, “It made sense, career-wise.”

“Only there’s a lot less security at the University compared to a Biomedical facility.”

She huffs out a laugh, “Yeah, there is that.” She shifts her head slightly, “But this has never happened before. Ever. People leave BioGen all of the time.”

“And you’re the first one kidnapped?”

“That I know of.”

There are heavy footsteps from the hall and Maze shifts so that his body is shielding hers. The door slams open and three men step into the room.

They’re not big men, if Maze were to stand, he’d tower over them. It burns him up that he allowed men like them to capture him so he would be able to find the professor.

“Professor,” One of the men stalks towards Maze, and he feels her shrink down behind him, “Come on, girl. Are we really going to do this? All you gotta do is give us the information, and then you’ll both go free.”

“Don’t lie. We all know that the moment she tells you what you want to know, you’ll kill her.” Maze growls out.

The man laughs, “Well, it’ll be a quick death, rather than this slow, dragged-out death.”

Behind him, the Professor trembles.

“Is this all of you? Just three men?”

“We still caught you, clone.” One of the other men sneers, “Grab the Professor—”

The first man reaches to grab the Professor, only for Maze to move, swiftly breaking the man’s arm, and slamming his head against the wall, causing him to crumple to the floor.

“Get low, Professor.” Maze orders as he stands and advances on the two remaining men. He doesn’t wait to see if she’s following his direction, as he suddenly has two furious men to contend with.

Unfortunately for them, he’s an Alpha Class clone, and they’re unarmed.

The fight can’t even be called a proper fight. The two remaining kidnappers go down with several well-placed hits, and Maze tosses them into the cell while motioning for the Professor to join him.

“We’re leaving,” Maze says to the woman as he holds his hand out for her.

Nervously she nods and takes his hand, “Where are we going?”

“Well, it was the University who hired me.” Maze replies as he peeks into the hall, and then leads her out of the cell as soon as he notes that it’s safe.

“Um—”

Maze stops and looks at her, “What’s wrong?”

“Just…did they seem smart enough to come up with this on their own?”

Maze stares at her for a long time, and then he sighs, “No. They didn’t.” He’s quiet for a moment, “Alright, there must be something here to indicate who hired them. Follow me.”

Maze leads abruptly turns down a side hallway and leads her into a much larger room. There are computers, though they seem largely untouched. It looks like the kidnappers were more concerned with the games that were playing on the four holos lined up next to each other than the computers.

There are three couches, each other them surrounded by empty bottles and empty pizza boxes.

“Well,” Maze notes as he steps around a pile of trash, “Criminal Genuises they are not.”

The Professor peers at a holo-board next to the couches, “It looks like they have a gambling problem.”

“Lucky for us. It means they probably didn’t delete anything.” Maze walks over to the computers, “Stay close, Professor.”

“Ah…Sorry.” She hurries to his side and peeks around him at the monitors.

Maze flashes a small smile at her and then focuses on the computers. “Hey, Professor?”

“Yes?”

“How’d they grab you?”

“I was heading home from a day of classes, and they ran me off the road.” She replies.

“You were driving yourself.”

“Yeah.”

“Does anyone know your route home?”

“I mean, there’s only one road off of the main campus,” She replies, “But I generally don’t know what route I’m taking home until I get in the car. It depends on the traffic and if I need to go grocery shopping.”

“And you didn’t tell anyone your plans for the evening when you were taken?” Maze asks as he scans something on the screen.

“No. No one.”

“It looks like our violent friends were hired by Levi Kelley. At least, that’s who paid them.”

“Levi Kelley?”

“You know him?”

“Yeah, he’s the head of the Biology Department at the University. I thought you said the University hired you?”

“Yeah, the Dean hired me. This Levi person, is he your supervisor?”

“No. I mean, he thinks that he is, but we’re on the same level.”

“Are you friends?”

“I’ve always been a bit…ambivalent towards him. He’s a good teacher, but he’s kind of a terrible person. Racist, sexist, the whole shebang.”

“And he works at a University?”

“He’s a very good teacher. But he lost his tenure last year.”

“For what?”

“Academic misconduct, according to the rumors.” She leans against his side, exhausted, “The only person who knows the truth would be the Dean.”

“So it’s revenge.” Maze murmurs, “Use you to get an incurable virus, and release it on the school. Did you tell them anything?”

“No, I didn’t. I wouldn’t.”

“They tortured you, Professor. No one would blame you if you did.”

“I’m telling you, I didn’t. I left Biogen two years ago, Maze. I don’t remember any passwords or door codes. And they removed my biometrics from their system on my last day. I swear it.”

“Okay.” Maze lightly pushes some of her hair out of her face, “So they need someone else, a current employee.”

“Yeah, it’s the only way to get inside.”

“Alright. Let’s get out of here and alert the authorities. And get you some medical attention.”

“Yes please.”

Maze lightly presses his hand against the small of her back, guiding her towards the door, “I have one more question, Professor.”

“Go ahead?”

“When my brothers and I were decanted, we were given enhanced aging.”

“Yes, it was the only way for the Kaminoans to get a viable army in 10 years.” She replies.

“Yeah, you think you can reverse it?”

“Reverse it?” She repeats, sounding more thoughtful than surprised. Maze watches as she absently scratches at a deep gash on her cheek, “I don’t know about reversing it,” She finally says, “but I might be able to cure it. With enough blood samples.”

“Really?”

“Well sure, it’s not that hard. It’s just gene manipulation.” She frowns at him thoughtfully, “Look, all the information I need is here,” she lightly taps his chest, “The more of your brothers I can get blood samples from, the easier it’ll be to make a cure.”

“Can you do it at the University while also teaching?”

“I mean, sure. But the University of Theeds is funded by the Emperor. I’m guessing you don’t want the Empire to know about it.”

“No, I don’t.” Maze replies.

She’s quiet for a moment, “Find me a place to work, off of Naboo, and I can help you.”

“If you can cure this, I might just kiss you,” Maze says with a sly smile.

Her face heats and she won’t look at him, “Well, that seems a bit excessive,” She mumbles.

She squeaks when he lightly drapes his arm over her shoulder and tugs her against his side, “No. It isn’t. Come on, Professor. Let’s get you safe.”

#star wars #tcw #maze (alpha-16) x reader #maze x reader #star wars fanfiction #x reader fanfiction #f!reader fic #answered asks

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atlabeth · 1 year

Text

between colleagues - anthony lockwood

part 2

summary: besides, what's a bit of fake dating between colleagues anyway?

a/n: i have missed him!!! there is just something so fun about writing for l&co and anthony specifically i truly love their world and i love him!! this was originally going to be the entire thing in one fic but i decided to post this on its own and test the waters with you all because i am TIREd of writing long fics. free me from my prison. this is literally my third fake-dating fic bc i never get tired of the trope but lmk if you want to see more

wc: 3.1k

warning(s): fem!reader, mentions of: canon typical job stuff, a child dying (mentioned in passing. literally half a line), and a good ol fashioned breakdown. but this is almost completely fluff bc that's all in the background

You groaned as Lockwood pushed the door open, working through the knot in your shoulder while you all walked inside. You tossed your rapier into the umbrella stand, not even bothered by the clatter, and began unbuckling your belt.

Winter was the worst season for ghost hunting. As if it weren’t already freezing enough dealing with Visitors and their effects, your most recent job was almost fully outside. You considered it a miracle hypothermia didn’t get you before any sort of ghost-touch.

“What are you groaning about?” Lockwood asked, glancing back at you. “I think tonight went rather well.”

He’d removed his jacket, and his white undershirt was dirt-stained and damp with sweat. Though he looked unaffected as ever on the surface, the quickened rise and fall of his chest said, in his own way, he was just as exhausted as the rest of you. You raised an eyebrow, but Lucy beat you to the punch.

“You think every night goes well if we come back alive,” she said wryly.

“It’s not the best measurement,” George added. He tilted the iron charm over the door back into place then set his bag on the floor. “Tonight was rough, Lockwood. Even by your ridiculous terms.”

Lockwood looked at you. “Anything you care to add?”

You grimaced as you rubbed your shoulder. “I’m never breaking down a door for you like this again.”

You did feel a bit like an action hero in the moment, but you regretted it soon after. Even more so when it didn’t even matter in the scheme of things—the source ended up being buried by the locked shed, not in the shed itself. At least you were now last in the rotation of opening suspicious doors.

“You offered to,” Lockwood defended.

“Because you said you would handle all the supply calls for the next week,” you said dryly. “And it looks like that may need to happen soon.” You held up your belt—once packed with salt bombs and magnesium flares, you’d emptied it completely trying to save all your lives. It was a sad sight.

He frowned. “Even the flares?”

“Even the flares,” you said.

“I’m all out of them too,” George said. “Surprised we didn’t start a full-on forest fire in the backyard.”

“I thought those would last longer.” Lockwood’s frown deepened. “They were quite expensive.”

“At least we got paid a fair bit,” Lucy said. “And we did indeed get away with our lives.”

“Barely,” George grumbled, kicking off his boots. He tossed his rapier haphazardly to the side, not even bothering to deposit it into your umbrella stand, and dropped his belt on the ground, still boasting a whole two remaining salt bombs. Your lip curled at the trail of chaos. “I’m going to bed. No one bother me for at least fifteen hours.”

Lucy smiled, shaking her head as he walked off. “Dramatic, but he’s got the right idea. I’ll see you all tomorrow.”

“See you, Luce,” Lockwood said.

“I’ll be quiet when I come in,” you assured, and she gave an appreciative nod. Lucy dropped a stack of envelopes on the kitchen table before she went upstairs—it was her job to pick up the mail, and you were honestly surprised she remembered after all this.

“You’re not mad at me,” Lockwood said, glancing at you as he went over to pick up the mail, “are you?”

“No,” you sighed, and you flopped onto the couch, “just dramatic. More so than George tonight.”

He chuckled and leaned against the counter, making deft work of the envelopes as he sorted them into piles. One for the never-ending junkmail that graced your door, and four others for each of you. “Good. I can never handle you being mad at me.”

A smile tugged at your lips as you stared up at the ceiling. “You’re off the hook this time, so don’t worry.”

“And I appreciate your mercy immensely,” he said. Another glance over at you. “You look exhausted. Are you sure you don’t want to turn in?”

You shook your head. “Our post-job detox is the most important part of all this. I can hold out for another hour.”

It was hardly a detox, but it had grown to become a necessity for you and Lockwood, sitting together and talking through everything in the wee hours of the night.

One extremely tough case left you reeling harder than usual—children always got to you, and the girl’s death was particularly grisly—and apparently, Lockwood could tell.

It took a couple days of gentle prodding, but one night, after being completely out of it in the archives with him that day, you broke—completely. Full on sobbing. Wholly embarrassing to do so in front of your boss, especially when he, George, and Lucy didn’t seem half as affected by it all.

It turned out he was just better at covering it all up—Lockwood understood it all a lot better than you thought. He just sat with you in the living room and talked with you, talked you through it. There was a lot of crying, a fair bit of permanently swearing off ghost-hunting, and more than a bit of hatred against the entirety of the United Kingdom.

By the end of it, though, after you’d cried yourself into a headache, gone through a quarter of a box of tissues, and actually worked out your problems with Lockwood’s help, you felt far better.

Lockwood thereby forbade you from holding in your feelings until they burst, and so it became a routine—it was cheaper than therapy, and most therapists, save for the few former agents working in the field, couldn’t understand it anyways. You usually slumped on the couch, Lockwood usually leaning against the counter. Sometimes with tea, often with tears, always with slightly morbid jokes.

“How’s your shoulder feeling?” Lockwood asked, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“It’ll heal,” you said. “It’s mostly just sore. I’ll stay away from my rapier for a few days, sleep on my other side for once, and everything’ll be fine.”

“Good.” The ruffling of paper stopped for a moment, and his voice was slightly sheepish when he spoke again. “Are you still up for that meeting with the Caldecotts tomorrow, then?”

You groaned and screwed your eyes shut. “Lockwood, it is three in the bloody morning. You scheduled the Caldecotts for eleven.”

“I didn’t know that this job would go on for so long!” he defended. “The last few have all wrapped up before midnight. It’s not my fault this Visitor was particularly elusive.”

“I am drenched in sweat, Lockwood,” you said. “Half of my coat is burnt from plasm and the other half is frozen solid. There is still dirt under my fingernails, my boots are covered in spiderwebs, and I haven’t slept in twenty-three hours. And you want me to be ready to deal with Lorena Caldecott, the most annoying woman I think I have ever met, in eight measly hours?”

“Yes,” he said brightly. That just got another groan out of you.

“They made you in a lab, Anthony Lockwood,” you mumbled. “That’s the only explanation for how you’re still going.”

He chuckled. “Alright, alright. I’ll phone them first thing tomorrow morning—well, later this morning, I suppose—and see if I can push it back another day.”

“And if not, you’re doing this on your own,” you said, finally opening your eyes again to see him walking over. He handed you your stack of mail—hardly a stack, really, only consisting of four envelopes—and smiled, irritatingly pretty even with smudges of dirt on his face. There was a reason he got away with so much, and that smile was half of it.

Lockwood said your name cloyingly. “Come on. You know I do interviews best when we’re together. You keep me on track.”

“I knocked down a door for you, Lockwood!” you proclaimed. “Is that not enough to get me out of this?”

“I took the supply calls,” he said, “and I’m pushing back the meeting. We’re even now.”

“Fine,” you said, extremely grudgingly. “But you’re getting them to push it back at least until tomorrow, because once my head hits the pillow, I don’t think I’ll be up for at least twenty-four hours.”

“Promise,” he said with a nod.

You sighed, finally righting yourself so you could look at your mail, and glanced up at Lockwood as you picked them up. “You get anything interesting?”

He shook his head. “Unless you consider a letter from Fittes begging me to buy the newest edition of their manual interesting.”

You hummed and looked back down at yours. You slipped your finger under the seal and tore it open, chuckling a bit when you took it out.

“How about you?” Lockwood asked.

“25% off my next Dorothy Perkins purchase,” you said, holding the coupon up. “Very thrilling.”

“Incredibly so,” he nodded. “When’s the last time you even got something from there?”

You huffed a laugh as you worked open the next envelope. “I bought a dress for my cousin’s graduation last year. Haven’t worn it since.”

“So doubly thrilling,” he said.

You’d opened your mouth to shoot back, but instead you frowned as you pulled an embossed card out. You skimmed through it quickly enough but got the meaning all the same.

“Huh,” you said. “My cousin is getting married.”

Lockwood raised an eyebrow. “Dorothy Perkins cousin?”

You shook your head, still frowning. “No. Maternal aunt’s son. Dorothy Perkins was paternal aunt’s son.”

“Ah,” he said dryly, “how could I have made such a mistake?”

You didn’t even have the energy to retort back as you stared at the letter. “I suppose I’ll need to pull out that dress again. It’s an invite.”

“Congratulations,” Lockwood said. “Are you going to need time off?”

“I don’t even know if I should go,” you mumbled, leaning your head against the side of the couch.

“Why wouldn’t you go?” he asked with a frown.

“Because I haven’t seen my family in a while,” you said, “and I haven’t seen this side of the family in an even longer while.”

Lockwood shrugged. “Then it’ll be a nice reunion.”

“Lockwood,” you said, “I’ve lied to them.”

“…Okay,” he said slowly. “About what?”

You winced. “They think I have a boyfriend.”

He still seemed lost. “Strange thing to lie about.”

“You don’t understand.” You sat up, putting the letter to the side. “My family’s from Liverpool, right? We’re all so busy that we never really have time to meet up, but I make it a point to call my mother a few times a month so she knows I’m still alive.”

Lockwood nodded. “Yeah, I know. You usually call her after every rough case.”

“Right. Because my mum hates my career,” you said. “I thought she was going to have a heart attack when I told her I’d scored my first job with Tendy’s. I thought she would actually pass away when I told her I quit Tendy’s for you.” You glanced at Lockwood. “She thinks you’re a lunatic, by the way.”

He shrugged. “Many do.”

You smiled and shook your head. “She hates that I’m an agent, but so long as I stay alive, she says she can deal with it. But she has a rule on our calls that I can’t talk about our jobs—says they give her nightmares. So instead, she talks about every facet of my personal life.”

Lockwood’s eyes finally flashed with understanding and he nodded. “Hence the boyfriend lie?”

“Hence the boyfriend lie,” you echoed. “She will not stop bothering me about it—apparently the dating life of her daughter is more important than anything else. So on our last call, I just lied and told her I had one to get her off of my back.”

Lockwood actually had the nerve to laugh. “And how did that work out for you?”

“It worked fine,” you said, “and it was going to continue to be fine. But then Will had to go out and get engaged, the dolt.”

“So just go on your own,” he suggested.

“I can’t show up alone,” you grumbled. “Not only would it be completely embarrassing, but the questions would start up all over again.”

“Then don’t go.”

“I can’t not go!” you exclaimed. “Will’s a lovely cousin.”

“You just called him a dolt,” Lockwood said.

“I call you a dolt all the time,” you said. “Doesn’t mean I don’t like you.”

Lockwood chuckled and shook his head, and that was when an idea came to you. There was a slight furrow in his brow when he glanced back at you.

“I don’t like that look.”

“Come to the wedding with me,” you said suddenly.

Lockwood’s expression sobered even further. “You can’t be serious.”

“It’s the perfect solution!” you exclaimed, moving to the edge of the couch as you clasped your hands together.

“You want me to be your pretend boyfriend,” he deadpanned. When you nodded, he shook his head in disbelief. “You’ve got to be joking.”

“Why would I be joking?” you asked. “You’re quite possibly the best candidate for it all. We’re best friends, we know each other well— God, I’ve talked about you enough in general to my mum that she won’t even be surprised that it ended up being you.”

Lockwood’s eyebrows rose. “Won’t they look down on you dating your boss?”

“You’re hardly my boss,” you said.

“I pay your salary,” he said. “You live in my house. My name is on the door.”

“I don’t see how that’s relevant,” you said. “Besides, you owe me after tonight!”

He frowned. “We just agreed that we were even.”

“Well, I lied,” you said. “My shoulder is in excruciating pain from knocking that door down, and the only way for it to heal is for you to pretend to be my boyfriend.”

He gave you a wry look and said your name. “Come on. This is an awful idea.”

“It’s a brilliant idea,” you said. “You get a chance to dress up and charm an entire family—you live for that sort of stuff, Lockwood. I finally get my family off my back with some actual proof and I actually get a break for once.”

You saw the uncertainty on his face and you huffed. “Don’t give me that look. This is the exact sort of plan you’d come up with and try to force on me if it meant we’d get a hand up.”

“I know,” he said grudgingly, “that’s why I don’t like it. It’s dangerous when you start learning my tricks.”

“Please, Lockwood,” you begged. “I’ll do all your chores for the rest of the month. I’ll shake Lorena Caldecott’s hand with a smile on my face.”

“That is tempting,” he said wryly. “I can never fold my dress shirts the way you do.”

“Wrinkle-free dress shirts,” you said with a gesture. “And— and, I will cash in my favor with Arif. Discounted doughnuts for the next three months.”

Lockwood’s eyes widened. “You’ve got favors with Arif?”

You shrugged. “I helped him out a couple times with ghost things.”

He huffed a laugh and shook his head. “You really are something.”

“Discounted doughnuts, Lockwood,” you continued. “Discounted doughnuts and wrinkle-free shirts and my best behavior for the Caldecotts, no matter how sleep-deprived I am.”

“…This really means a lot to you,” Lockwood said after a moment, “doesn’t it.”

You nodded. “My family— my mum—will never lay off if I show up alone. If you’re on my arm, you talk a bit about yourself and compliment me a few times and charm them with literal ghost stories, then I’m off the hook for good.”

Lockwood pursed his lips, his arms folded across his chest as he thought it through.

“Please,” you said. “It’ll just be one night.”

After another moment, he let out a sigh almost as dramatic as your earlier ones, but his lips quirked up at the corners.

“Fine,” Lockwood said. “I’ll go with you.”

Your eyes widened. “You will?”

“Yes,” he said with a laugh. “It— it’ll be fine—you’re right. We’ve been living together for the past year and a half—we know each other well enough to sell it. And with half the agency going out for it, I can write off any hotels or dinners as business expenses.”

That got a laugh out of you too, and you shook your head. “You are my savior, Lockwood. Truly.”

“Just means we’re back in your court on favors,” he joked. “And you know what? I think this could actually be fun.”

“Really?”

“Really,” he nodded. “Besides,” Lockwood smiled wryly at you as he stood up from his spot against the counter, “what’s a bit of fake dating between colleagues anyway?”

You huffed a laugh and finally managed to pull yourself back up into a sitting position. You cracked your neck and rubbed your shoulder, grimacing a bit at the soreness but thankful that it wasn’t worse. “Can we work out the rest of the details later? I’m exhausted, and I know you’ve got to be running on fumes.”

His smile softened and he nodded. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Later today, I suppose.” He frowned as he looked at the clock. “God. It really is late.”

You hummed in agreement as you unlaced your boots, trying your best to avoid the spiderwebs when you took them off. That was your number one question about the Problem—why the hell did spiders have to gravitate towards ghosts?

“Get some sleep, Lockwood,” you said, setting your boots with everyone else’s shoes. That mess was an issue for another day. “You’ve got to be refreshed—those supply calls aren’t going to make themselves.”

Lockwood rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t completely bite back his smile. “Best behavior for the Caldecotts, love.”

“And nothing less!” you exclaimed without turning around, pointing in the air as you continued up the stairs. You heard Lockwood laugh behind you, and the sound brought out a smile of your own.

It was now nearly four in the bloody morning. Your shoulder still ached, your coat was beyond repair, and you would have to scrub beneath your nails for at least ten minutes before you settled in tonight. But somehow, Lockwood still had you smiling and feeling better about the whole experience.

For god’s sake, you fought ghosts on a daily basis. You’d been training with a rapier since the tender age of eight. Your skills rivaled some of Fittes’ and Rotwell’s best—who cared what your family had to say about you?

You were right. This wedding would be a piece of cake with Anthony Lockwood by your side.

#anthony lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood x you #lockwood x reader #lockwood x you #lockwood & co x reader #lockwood & co #x reader #reader insert #sadie writes

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margowritesthings · 2 years

Text

The Greatest Gift A Cowgirl Could Ask For

a @rdrevents Valentines gift exchange for @cowboydisaster

SERIES MASTERLIST

pairing: Arthur Morgan x f!reader word count: 4,400 words warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, explicit language, sexual themes, vaginal sex, mentions of death, unprotected sex, throwing up (TW EMETOPHOBIA), very brief mention of SA in the past, unexpected pregnancy, mentions of Micah Bell a/n: am I britney spears in her 2000 grammy award winning song??? because oops, i did it again. i don't know how I managed to get Bea as my recipient for a SECOND time, but it only felt right to carry on building this universe I've made for her and lying to her about it all week. Whoops.

Bea, my beloved, Happy Valentines Day. You deserve the world and Im so glad I could dedicate this fic to you. Honestly I probably couldn't have gotten the motivation to get back on my feet and write again if it wasn't for you. Thanks for everything you do bby and I hope this lives up to your 'if by some miracle you get me for your gift exchange disregard my prompts and write a TGG prequel' (yes she actually said that) idea. Love you lots xxx

taglist: @cowboydisaster @inkandbloodbound @counteveryfreckle @elifsukirdaghehe @reaveries @delilah-grimes @luvliewriting @mrsarthurmorgan7 @photo1030 @snobbybastard

My Darling Wife,

I’m writing to you from up near Tempest Rim. I’ve tracked this bounty all over the goddamn Grizzlies and I’m ready to come home to you. I miss you so much and I’m real sorry I can’t be home in time for St. Valentines. Hopefully I can catch this bastard soon and make it up to ya. We’ll go to the theatre and sit right at the back, how’s that sound? I’ll move heaven and Earth to be beside you soon, you know I will.

I can’t wait to see you, sweetheart. I’ll be there as fast as I can be with enough money to take you out on the town. Won’t be long, I promise.

All my love, Arthur

Your finger runs over his looped script, over and over as if it will somehow will your husband out of the crumpled paper and into your bed. It’s been 2 months since the letter arrived, 2 months of the agony of not knowing if he’s dead or alive robbing you of sleep each and every night. You miss him, more than you could ever imagine one person could miss another and you honestly don’t know what you’ll do if he doesn’t come home.

It’s a 600 dollar bounty, it’s sure to be a tough job you constantly reassure yourself, unable to focus on anything but the absence of half of your very soul in every waking moment.

The day he comes home starts like any other. Time's arrow marches on, the sun rises and sets over your makeshift family as they work and plan and rob and hunt. You busy yourself planning a job with Karen, cushioned into your schedule between menial tasks so that it’s just that bit easier to not think about him. As usual, your efforts are in vain, but at least the chores are done, your steed Diesel is happy, and, all being well, you and Karen will have about 30 dollars to split between you when the week is out.

An hour before he comes home, everyone retires to bed, save for John (who’s on watch tonight) and you’re left alone by the campfire. It crackles and pops, embers swirling the air around you. It feels like you stare at the twisting flames until your eyes blur and burn and you can’t tell which are tears of irritation to your senses and which are your heart breaking once more.

Moments before you’re reunited with the second half of your heart, you hear John yelling. It’s instinct that drives your hand into your holster, still resting against your hip despite the late hour, and you perk up like a startled deer, straining to decipher Marston’s words.

“Who is it?!” “Arthur, you dumbass!”

Arthur.

Arthur?

“Arthur?!” It’s a breathless shout, barely heard over the rushing blood in your ears as your feet take you to your husband before your mind can even fathom that he’s here.

But sure enough, when you reach the edge of camp, heart racing, you see Arthur Morgan riding his chestnut mare straight towards you, spurring her into a gallop as soon as he lays his eye on his waiting wife. Marston probably makes some remark about who ‘decided to show up’, but to you, there is nothing but you and Arthur, two magnets parted by an unnatural force finally reaching each other again with a deafening crash.

And it is. A crash, that is, when Arthur all but throws himself off his saddle and your bodies collide, great big arms wrapping around your frame. It is then that the tears fall down your cheek, soaking into Arthur’s coat that smells so much like him it truly feels like a dream.

You thought he was dead.

Only when you’re safely in his arms, when he’s pressing frantic kisses to your head, whispering your name over and over into your hair do you allow yourself to admit that fact. You thought he was never coming back, and yet here he is. Words fail you, the overwhelming emotion settling right in your throat.

“Oh, god… oh, darlin’ I-I missed you so much…”

You feel two large hands cup your cheeks, pulling you in for a kiss that holds everything and anything the past 3 months could have been had you not spent it apart. But everything fits back into place, the world starts spinning again and you’re whole the second Arthur Morgan’s lips meet yours. It lasts a lifetime, it lasts a fraction of a second. You want to stop time, keep Arthur in your arms forever and never again have to go through the torture of being away from each other. The two of you only part to throw near identical scowls at John, who is amusing himself by telling you to get a room.

Unfortunately, as Ms. Grimshaw so often reminds you all, the Van der Linde Camp is not a hotel, so tonight you will not be afforded the luxury of a private suite as John so kindly suggested. There is only your tent, hitched against the gang’s weapons wagon, the old canvas pulled around to offer a little privacy when you and Arthur first started… well, needing the seclusion.

Calloused fingers intertwine with your own digits, Arthur’s other hand flipping John off before his weight pulls you towards your little corner of camp. There's so much purpose in his stride, the need to have you all to himself, not even share you with the lord above or wildlife below, driving him forward. Driving him home.

When you’re finally, truly alone, the tears welling in your eyes glistening in the candlelight, no words are needed. Soon enough, you’ll talk for hours on end, catching each other up on every little detail of the last few months. But for now, all that there is and all that could matter is right this very second, when Arthur reaches for you, brushing a thumb over the tear tracks on your left cheek. His eyes, looking almost emerald in the dark of night, roam over each and every detail of you with such an intensity in him that you think he’s trying to remember this moment for the rest of time. You’re sure it’s one you could never possibly forget.

Arthur snakes both arms around your waist, guiding you backwards until the backs of your knees gently hit the cot and you lay back onto it. He covers the full length of you and then some, making you feel so fragile and small. It’s nice to feel breakable for once, to let go of the need to be the strongest in the room, lest you be ridiculed for being too sensitive or too weak or too womanly. Arthur knows just how strong you are, you need to prove nothing to him, so you can submit to his embrace, allow yourself to just breathe for once knowing you can break and there’s re will always be somebody to put you back together.

He lowers himself to your lips, pressing a kiss to them that doesn’t last nearly long enough. Arthur then kisses your nose, then your cheeks and chin, before trailing down to the crook of your neck. Your skin feels as though it’s on fire, so starved for the man you cannot live without that now he’s finally here everything feels that much more intense. The tiniest scrape of Arthur’s teeth against your flesh shoots through every single nerve in your body and you moan right into his ear. You can actually feel him harden against your thigh at the sweet melody of your pleasure.

Pushing Arthur’s hat off to the side, your fingers rake through his hair, nails scratching at his scalp encouragingly as he nibbles at your skin.

“Oh, Arthur… Oh, I missed you so much…” You breathlessly whisper, feeling your heart skip a beat when he pauses his movements to glance at you from under impossibly long eyelashes, jade green eyes glistening up at you.

“I missed you too, sweetheart. So so much.” His voice is soft, as if he’s handling the peacefulness around you so delicately and it causes the overwhelming emotion to well in your chest and choke up your throat. Arthur sees this, trying not to be too taken with his own surprising amount of emotion himself, and relieves you of your job of a response by directing his attention to the buttons of your shirt. You don’t remember him pushing your jacket off your shoulders, but there it lies on the floor beside the entrance to your tent, so he must have.

Despite the juxtaposition of such dainty buttonholes and such large fingers, Arthur expertly undresses your top half until you’re bare to him. He takes no time at all to take one of your nipples into his mouth, kissing and sucking at it with a hunger you feel right in your toes. You moan loudly, unable to stop yourself after yearning for this very feeling for so long.

Arthur coos and shushes you and it vibrates across your skin, not helping you stay quiet in the slightest. The hand not tugging on his dirty blonde locks reaches between your two longing bodies to begin to unbuckle his belt. You can feel your own heartbeat throbbing between your legs, your coil growing tighter and tighter by the second. It’s been almost 3 months since your bodies have joined like this, and yet you’re not sure you can wait another minute.

You’re purring for Arthur, twitching and grinding as your hand fumbles desperately at the belt. His absence from your skin is agony the second he pulls his hips back to sit up straight. Spotting your downright bratty expression, bottom lip protruding in a pout, Arthur chuckles lowly, “Patience, baby… I gotta get these damn clothes off us.” He gestures to his belt, still very much buckled around his waist. Definitely not your fault. He was being far too distracting.

He’s quick, you’ll give him that, shedding his clothes without taking his eyes off you. You burn under his stare, even more so when he crawls back on top of you to slide your boots off one by one and peel your pants and undergarments down your legs.

The heat radiates off his huge body, his cock pulsing with need. The way he’s putting his weight into his arms to stop from crushing you with his weight adds a definition to his already beautifully sculpted body. Reaching down, you brush the tip of your finger oh so gently over his rosy head, finding a bead of cum already leaking, and you snap. You can’t wait a second longer, scratching and gripping at him like he’s the air you need to breathe.

“Please, Arthur, please I need you. S-So long, it’s been so long-” “Shh, I know, princess, I know. I’m gonna take care of you, okay? Gonna take care of your pretty little cunt, I promise.” He soothes you, though his own voice is shaky from the very effort of restraining himself, maintaining his control to not drive into you and ruin you. While he whispers to you, he lines himself up at your entrance and you quiver in anticipation.

In all your years before you met Arthur, you never really saw sex as anything but something to give, or worse, something to be taken from you. You never truly understood, not until you met Arthur, who taught you it’s something to share, to experience. With Arthur, it’s different. It is connection and pleasure and it’s wonderful and god damn it, it’s addictive. So when Arthur slides into you, letting out a visceral, guttural groan as he does, everything is right in the world.

You feel so full, especially when Arthur pushes all the way to the hilt, connecting you completely at the pelvis. The moan that escapes your lips is downright obscene and Arthur crashes down into your mouth to swallow it.

Maybe it’s the fact that it’s been so long, or the emotion of it all, but you swear you can feel everything. Every vein and ridge, every twitch and movement of his perfect cock as Arthur slowly starts to move in and out of you.

“Fuck… s-so good, darlin. So tight- y’feel so fucking good, princess…”

You’ve never hurtled so close towards a climax so quickly in your life. His torturously slow, deep thrusts drag into your sweet spot every fucking time and trying to hold back brings a blur into your vision. Your own hips grind against his, Arthur gripping into your flesh to guide you perfectly in time with him.

“I-I’m so close already, Arthur… fuck…” You breathe out, your breath tickling Arthur’s ear and sending a visible shudder down his spine. He looks proud at your admission.

“You missed me that much, huh? Gonna cum for me already, darlin’?”

He gives you no time to respond, pressing a thumb to your clit and rubbing in time with everything else. You implode, pulling Arthur down to catch the scream you’re about to wake everybody up with. It has never felt so intense, and with every thrust Arthur fucks into you it only grows and grows, shattering you to pieces for Arthur to fix back together again.

When you return, a rhythmic thudding in your ears, the first thing you see is Arthur, of course. His jaw is fluttering madly, a bead of sweat clinging to his forehead but the candlelight makes him look ethereal. You still can’t believe he’s here, alive.

Tears start to glisten in your eyes. You’ve never cried during sex before, not for anything positive, at least, but somehow this doesn’t feel wrong. Arthur slows again, watching you, and you spot an extra shine to his own jade orbs. He knows. He feels it too.

He’s right there with you. As he always is.

He brushes a piece of hair stuck to your forehead away, and the gesture is enough to send the tears falling down the same worn path on your cheeks as before.

“I love you, Mr. Morgan…” “I love you, Mrs. Morgan…”

It seems to become too much for Arthur to stay still, and you’re glad for it. You’re desperate for the friction, already flying towards another orgasm. He’s really fucking into you this time, pulling almost all the way out before driving back in. He’s groaning and growling and you decide in that moment that it’s your favourite sound in all the world.

“I… I ain’t gonna last much longer, baby…”

“C-Cum in me…” “Huh?” He slows, shuddering at the exertion required to control his movements, “I-”

But you’re not listening to his protests, your nails digging into the skin of his back and ass and anywhere else you can reach to urge him forwards again.

“Please Arthur, I-I need you… I need you to cum with me, I need you with me…” you plead with him, not truly understanding your need but honouring it. You’ve been without him for so long, you deserve him with you now.

He appears to consider you for just a moment, before diving down to lock your lips with his. His tongue delves into your mouth, tasting every bit of you and he starts to pump into you unreservedly. His body grinds against yours and the friction is perfect and you’re so fucking full and before you can even try to hold back, you’re cumming again, stars scattering your vision, heart pounding out of your chest to find release from it’s mortal, physical cage. Your inner walls twitch around Arthur’s length and this time, he doesn’t hold back either.

His eyes fly open and lock onto yours as you both climax together. It’s vulnerable and strange, but perhaps more connected than you ever thought possible for two people to be.

Arthur’s cock twitches inside you, pumping out his spend as he groans viscerally, completely losing control of his rhythm as he thrusts into you one last time, harsh and deep. You’ve never experienced this before, with Arthur or any other man, normally erring on the side of caution when it came to such matters, but even as you come down you can’t bring yourself to regret it. Whatever you and Arthur just experienced together felt spiritual, and worth much more than a little risk.

Arthur collapses, even as depleted as he is still considerate enough to collapse onto his elbows and not crush you. He slides out of you, earning a little wince, and rolls to the side so you can rest your head on his chest. It’s like a locket that’s been ripped apart, finally fixed together with the most satisfying click.

═══════☆═══════

Two months later, life has returned to its equilibrium. You and Arthur are perhaps clingier, still in a sort of second honeymoon phase where you just can’t seem to keep your hands off each other, more so than usual. It’s a side effect of prolonged solitude, you’re sure.

The first time it happens, you blame Pearson and think nothing of it. It’s pretty early in the morning and you’re sitting with Tilly and Abigail, peeling potatoes for the stew tonight. Abigail is venting her frustrations about when John did this and John said that, and everything feels so normal. Pearson arrives, throwing a rather large, rather dead fish onto the table you’re leaning against and you feel the thud from the weight of it vibrate against your back.

It isn’t until the smell invades your senses that everything starts to feel off. It smells exactly like all the other fish Pearson has ever slammed onto that poor table, which doesn’t explain why you immediately lurch forwards, grabbing an empty bucket and throwing up your breakfast. The fish stench is suffocating and all you can do is get the hell away from it, not noticing when Abigail’s brows knit together almost… knowingly?

You skip the stew that night.

―

The second time it happens, you try not to think about it. You’re riding Diesel and almost don’t make it off him in time. There is nothing to set you off, no horse shit or rotting animal at the side of the road, and yet in an instant your stomach feels like it has been flipped upside down.

The sheer volume of your retching catches Arthur’s attention and he tugs on the leather reins in his hands to steady his mare.

“Darlin’? Y’alright?”

His concern is evident in his tone and in the tight line between his brows, which deepens when he finds you unable to respond in anything but a frantic nod. He dismounts, spurs clicking against the dusty ground when he approaches you.

“Oh, sweetheart… that’s it, easy, easy… you’re okay…”

You feel gentle circles rubbed into the tense muscles of your back as you try to get through this again. It’s not lost on you that Arthur is speaking to you like a spooked horse, but it actually really does help. (You decide to prioritise peace of mind and not psychoanalyse why that is). Eventually, it relents and you regain your composure, albeit somewhat less gracefully than you’d have liked.

“Sorry… I don’t know what’s gotten into me, maybe I ate somethin’.”

Your apology for something you can’t help earns you a sad smile from your husband, who places a loving kiss on the top of your head before reaching for your discarded hat and putting it back on for you.

“Y’don’t gotta apologise. I gotcha, darlin’.”

You know he does.

He always does.

―

The third time it happens, the luxury of denial is stolen from you. It’s early enough that your view while you sit with Abigail drinking coffee involves glorious hues of orange and pink scattered around the rising sun. It’s peaceful, tranquil. The warmth of the little metal mug in your hands and Arthur’s jacket around your shoulders is enough to ward off the fresh morning chill in the air.

There is absolutely no warning when it hits, when it happens again. You’re so goddamn sick (no pun intended) of hurling. Your eyes water and your throat hurts a little and you curse under your breath when it’s over. Abi is beside you, rubbing your back in an attempt to soothe you. She waits until it’s over before speaking hesitantly.

“Uh, can I ask you somethin’?”

You nod, eyes still red and glistening as you swirl coffee around your mouth to take away from the awful, acidic taste lingering.

“When did you last bleed?”

“What, like an injury? Uh, I cut my hand couple days back, but I don’t see what-“

… Oh fuck.

═══════☆═══════

The anxiety bounces around your body and you decide that you’ve become far too acquainted with the concept of nausea. You can actually tell the difference between nerves twisting your stomach and… well, let’s say it as it is: morning sickness. This is the former, you deduce, spinning both your engagement and wedding ring around your finger to give your hands something better to do than carve fingernail-shaped moons into your palm. He should be home any minute now. Any minute now and it will all change forever.

It’s quite late, but the poker game Arthur was scoping out for potential jobs is known to last a while. You’re the only one still awake, poking the embers of the campfire to keep yourself as comfortable as possible.

You hear hooves hitting dry dirt first, and it seems to trigger your fight or flight response. God, you’d love to run away from this, but that is pretty much impossible, so fight it is. It’ll be the greatest fight of your life, you’ll soon learn, one you’re privileged to be a part of. But right now, it feels like an all-consuming unknown.

Arthur can tell something is wrong the second he sees you. You’re terrible at hiding things, especially from him. He always reads you as though you have a poster advertising your feelings printed on your forehead. Arthur dismounts, kissing you tenderly on the temple and wrapping his arms around you.

“What’re you still doin’ up, darlin’? Is everything alright?” You can feel his worry vibrating in his chest as you nuzzle into his embrace.

“I’m fine, I’m fine, I just… Can we talk? I kept the fire goin’.” You say it into his shirt, reluctant to move from this hold.

“Of course…” there’s something in his voice, a tense apprehension that really doesn’t help the knot contorting itself in your gut.

While you’re more than capable of keeping a fire going, Arthur is an expert, and has it healthily burning within seconds of you sitting down on the overturned log the gang has fashioned into a bench. You’re back to spinning your beautiful gold bands around your finger, trying to remember to breathe in and out every so often.

“What’s goin’ on, sweetheart?” His voice is so soft, so kind that it makes you want to cry. But you promised yourself you wouldn’t until you’d told him, because this might just be the most important conversation you’ve ever had, and you definitely won’t get through it if you’re a blubbering mess.

“I, uh… I… somethin’s happened.”

You hear his breath hitch in his throat and Arthur leans towards you, completely enveloping your hands in his. They’re sandwiched in now and you can’t fiddle with your rings anymore.

“What? What happened? Was it Micah? If he’s said somethin’ to you, I’ll kill him, the rat bastard-”

“No, no, it’s… as much as I’d love to see that, it’s not him.”

The tension releases. Just a little bit.

“I’m pregnant.”

Oh wait, there it is.

The silence is deafening, even though you’re almost certain it isn’t actually silent out here right now. There's a fire going and crickets are just metres away, you’re just shutting down with nerves.

The normally so often tense, fluttering jaw of Arthur Morgan is slack, his eyes wide and gaping at you, occasionally flicking down to your so far bump-less belly. (You should know- you’ve been obsessively looking in a mirror any chance you get for some sort of sign that this is really happening).

Say something. Please say something. Please don’t be angry. Oh, God please don’t hate me.

“I-I… You’re pregnant?” He repeats, reassuring you that you haven’t actually gone deaf, though his tone holds no indication of anything but shock. That’s probably fair…

You nod, hands instinctively reaching over your belly. It feels… weird. Holding your hands over your baby. Yours and Arthur’s baby.

“It happened a couple months back, when you got back from The Grizzlies, I think… I-I’m sorry, Arthur. I shoulda’ been more careful and-and…” You’re rambling, filling a silence that probably should just be allowed to be a silence.

“There… There’s gonna be a baby?”

There. Right there, adorning Arthur’s beautiful features, is the pull of a smile. It chokes you up instantly, so far deep in nightmares of arguments and unhappiness that you hadn’t even considered the good. You start to nod, a little bit of your fringe falling in your face.

“Yeah… There’s gonna be a baby. Our baby…”

“Our baby…” He repeats, his arm raising to brush the hair away from your eyes in such a natural manner it feels like it’s just his instinct to care for you. It is his instinct to care for you, Arthur has shown you that in every minute of every day of your marriage, and suddenly you’re not sure why you’ve been so scared.

“I’m gonna be a dad?” He still seems in disbelief, but that’s normal. It’s taken you a few days to come to terms with it, and even then the fingernail marks in your palms are still red raw.

“You’re gonna be a dad.”

It hits him. Really hits him and he all but throws himself into you, scooping you up and spinning you around as he laughs unreservedly.

“Well goddamn, I’m gonna be a Daddy!”

You laugh with him, worries and anxiety a distant memory as your feet swing around in the air. You’re probably waking the camp up, but you don’t care all that much. Right now, you’re the happiest girl in the world.

A baby. There’s gonna be a baby. Arthur’s baby.

Really, it’s the greatest gift a cowgirl could ask for.

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan rdr2 #rdr2 #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan fanfic #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan imagine #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan fluff #arthur morgan x f!reader #arthur morgan x y/n #rdr2 fanfiction #red dead redepmtion 2 #arthur morgan rdr #rdr2 arthur #rdr valentines change

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sunshines-child · 2 months

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Have some more of the traumatized dumbass (y’all are going to have an aneurysm tryna read the text lmao I do recommend zooming in that helps) and with more art comes more lore. -Luc was staying with an abusive guy until the baby arrived at his doorstep. After seeing the child he finally found enough courage to run -he gets shot a lot. It’s kind of wild honestly. He had like, what? A solid 8 bullet scars now? It’s a miracle he’s alive. -his own kid once had to remove a bullet lodged in his back (that by some miracle above) didn’t permanently damage him. Trauma +1 -he calls his kid “little dove” -his kid does love him. Is their relationship basically dust now? Sorta. Does his son keep on wishing he died from on of the bullets? Yeah. There’s a whole lot of shit, but they do love each other. They’re all the other has, anyways. (There’s also the fact that if they act like they hate eachother, people wouldn’t target Luc’s son) -after Theo (his kid) shoots him, he literally smiles and goes “I’m glad you can be safe of your own now” Theo cries begging him not to die (whether he does or doesn’t hasn’t been decided). In the end Theo is still just a little boy clinging onto his father’s fingers.

#my oc stuff #oc lore #original character #oc

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sunnyrosewritesstuff · 1 month

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Semi-Finals, Poll 2

One Last Adventure v. Heart of the Mountain

THE POLL IS AT THE BOTTOM OF THE POST! CLICK “KEEP READING”.

One Last Adventure: (Post-Canon Adventure)

Honestly, Bilbo was only half listening to that part. He was much more interested in Thorin. He could hear the cadence of his voice though in Gimli’s story. It was enough to bring an ache to his heart. Just imagining those blue eyes again, those rough palms gripping Bilbo’s shoulder, his laugh that had been few and far between but worth more than any treasure.

“And so he told us we would need a burglar, and he knew where the best one would be. That’s when he placed the acorn in my hand telling me it would be what would convince you.”

Bilbo’s hand tightened around the acorn in his pocket. Yes, that was certainly damning evidence.

“So what happened then? Why didn’t he…why isn’t he going on this quest?” Bilbo asked softly.

Gimli shrugged. “He walked back down the other end of the tunnel and I went to chase after him, but he was gone.”

Bilbo’s brows furrowed. What did that mean?

“So then Gimli found us!” Gulrik jumped in. “And of course, we didn’t believe him. Thought he was dreaming the whole thing up. But we snuck down into the crypt and he’s gone!”

“Gone.” Bilbo repeated.

“The tomb was open and there was no body inside.” Brombrar explained.

Bilbo felt like his heart was leaving his chest. What more did he need than that to know that Thorin was alive? How? He still didn’t know. But if this was the only way for him to see him again and find out for himself…

“Alright, if I do this, we need to set some ground rules.” Bilbo demanded trying to ignore the way the three dwarves lit up. “First off, you are writing your father.” Bilbo stated pointing at Gimli. “And your parents if they are still around.” He told the other two.

Bilbo endured their whining and groaning at being ‘full grown adults’ but Bilbo was not about to budge in his decision. He’s already had to watch two very dear young dwarves die far before their prime. He would not go through that again with these three. Something ugly seized in his chest as he realized there was a chance this miracle didn’t extend to Fili and Kili, and he hadn’t once asked about them. He tried to tell himself that he couldn’t bear to know that there could be a world with Thorin Oakenshield but not his nephews. He knew the truth though. And it was a truth he would rather not speak of, lest he paint himself the selfish, miserable codger that he is.

“Next, we are going to get help. If I’m remembering my map correctly, we will have to go right past Gundabad, and I doubt the orcs are any less active just because a few hundred thousand of them died in front of Erebor. In fact, I would think they would be more inclined to revenge, and that’s not a risk I’m willing to take.”

“I’m not worried about any orcs, Master Baggins.” Brombrar declared, arms crossed against his chest proudly.

It was on the tip of his tongue to tell him that he should be, but honestly, Bilbo knew there was no point in arguing with an overhyped tween. He could already feel himself getting a headache. This was going to be a long trip. Just what was Thorin thinking? Why did he ask children to complete this task and not the company he knows and trusts?

A rather alarmed thought passed through Bilbo’s mind at that point. What if Thorin was still goldsick? It would explain why he wouldn’t go to the company, and perhaps he disappeared to the treasury and that’s why they couldn’t find him? But it didn’t explain why he told them to find Bilbo. He would think if Thorin was still sick, the last person he would want involved was the Arkenstone thief. Bilbo just could not make any good sense out of this mess.

“Ered Luin is in the opposite direction, and Erebor won’t exactly be on our way so what do you suggest, Master Baggins?” Gulrik asked.

Bilbo blinked, having forgotten for a moment what they were talking about. Ah yes, help. A thought crossed through his head that he knew the dwarves would object to, but he did know someone nearby who might be willing to join them.

“Leave that to me, lads.” Bilbo declared. “We definitely are going to be making a couple of stops though. How are you on supplies?”

“We refilled while we were in Bree just a few days ago.” Gimli assured.

“Good. Then let’s finish up our luncheon and be on our way.”

Bilbo didn’t interrupt the cheerful and excited chatter from the three dwarves as they compared their quest to others before them. Namely, Thorin’s quest for Erebor. Bilbo had finished up quickly, and decided it wouldn’t be a bad idea to grab a smoke while he had the chance. He was actually doing this. He was going back on another journey. Wiser, more world-weary, and definitely remembered his handkerchief. He smirked around the stem of his pipe. Bofur would be so proud.

“Master Baggins, would you tell us about the quest you went on?” Gimli pleaded.

Bilbo took a last lungful before stamping his pipe out on a rock.

“Haven’t you already heard the stories?”

“But we want to hear it from you!” Gulrik stated. “What was it like facing down Smaug?!”

“How did you get the company out of the Mirkwood prison?” Brombrar asked.

“How many orcs did you kill?” Gimli tacked on.

Bilbo shook his head. He could only imagine the wild stories his friends were telling about him in Erebor. He felt a pang of longing hit him square in the chest. He shouldn’t have waited so long to write.

“Here now. We have a long journey. There is plenty of time to talk along the way, but the best stories start at the beginning.”

Heart of the Mountain: (Evil Arkenstone AU)

He would extend the generosity of the mountain to Dale and rebuild the men’s city as well. Renew their trading partners and allyships. He saw it all so clearly in his head. But now…Now he didn’t know what to do.

***

It was late afternoon by the time Fili, Kili, Bofur, and Oin made it to the mountain. To be honest, Fili didn’t know what to expect. He wanted to believe that their company was safe and sound, but going up against a dragon couldn’t have been easy. After all, they barely escaped with their lives as it was. If it hadn’t been for Kili’s elf…well, a lot would be different. So when they stepped through the gaping doorway, it was a bit unnerving to be met with silence.

“It’s a big mountain. They could be anywhere.” Bofur marveled.

Fili had a hunch where they could be, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about it just yet. They passed through a massive hall with a river of gold straight down its center which led them through the forges which led through to another passage, eventually finding the treasury. The golden light played on the green walls making them all gasp when they saw the treasure hold of Thror for the first time. There was enough gold to rebuild Erebor ten times over! And still have enough remaining to do trade. He couldn’t believe such a vast amount of riches could exist and yet there it was. And amongst it’s coins, looking like ants amongst the giant hills, was the remainder of their company. Fili felt a tightness in his chest ease as he counted to make sure all nine still stood.

“Hail! Thorin, son of Thrain, King Under the Mountain!” He called out.

The rest of the dwarves looked up, cheering at seeing them whole and hale. Bombur, Bifur, and Gloin all came running, but none nearly as fast as Thorin himself. He bounded up the stairs, immediately pulling Fili and Kili into his arms as soon as he got to them.

“My sister-sons! It is good to see you safe.” Thorin sighed.

Fili found himself relaxing in the hold. He didn’t know what he would be coming back to after the way they left things in Laketown. That, and his mother’s words for when they reached the mountain.

“Keep an eye on your uncle. I don’t trust the gold not to steal another family member of mine.”

“Are we still searching for the Arkenstone?” Kili asked.

“We found it.” Thorin frowned as he slowly revealed the glowing stone from his pocket.

Kili reached out for it, and Thorin pulled it back fast. Fast enough that it gave Fili pause. Kili merely pouted at not being able to touch the gem.

“I don’t want…” Thorin began before leaning into to speak to them. “Tell me, do you remember Bilbo?”

Who on Arda was Bilbo? Any relief Fili might have felt, immediately stiffened back up under the odd behavior of Thorin. Was this what he was supposed to look for? And what did he do if this was it?

“Bilbo…who?” Kili asked.

Rather than answer him, Thorin merely sighed and shook his head, looking off into the distance as if he were listening to someone before turning back to them.

“How do you two recall the troll incident then?”

THE TROLL INCIDENT? Why was Thorin asking after that?! Fili was so out of his depth. He had no idea what Thorin was on about and it was starting to scare him.

“Well, Fili and I were in charge of watching the ponies.” Kili recounted. “Then we realized it was trolls and followed them to their camp. Then we went back to get the rest of you and…I charged in ahead for…some reason.”

Thorin’s eyes widened as he latched onto the hesitation. “What was the reason?” He demanded.

Kili shook his head. “I can’t remember. Must have been to save the ponies though, right?”

Thorin took a deep breath and released, disappointment clear in his eyes.

“Right.” He mumbled.

“Anyways…” Fili decided to change the subject, still a bit perplexed. “If you have the Arkenstone, what is everyone looking for?”

Thorin shifted on his feet. “Something that…fits the Arkenstone.”

“Like a box?” Kili laughed. “We’ll leave it in your pocket for now. It can’t be that important, can it?”

“It’s more than just a box.” Thorin snapped, taking Fili and Kili both by surprise. “It’s like a…lock. And I have to have it.”

“Why is that, Uncle?” Fili asked softly.

Thorin gave him an exasperated look, his eyes swimming with frustration that Fili couldn’t understand. They had the mountain. Smaug was dead, and the Arkenstone in his possession. What could Thorin possibly have to be frustrated about?

“You won’t understand until after we find it!” He declared before sweeping back towards the treasury.

Fili gave Kili a raised eyebrow with his brother merely shrugging in response. Thorin wasn’t making any sense. Fili didn’t know what it meant just yet, but he did know that the situation definitely deserved careful scrutiny. He watched Balin gaze after Thorin with a haunted expression. Yes, the sooner they could get Thorin out of this treasury, the better.

#birthday plot bunnies tournament #follower event #the hobbit #bagginshield #semi finals poll 2 #post canon adventure #evil arkenstone au

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storiesofsvu · 1 year

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Emily Prentiss x reader Covers a bingo square. Warnins: language, hurt/comfort, deals with Emily coming back from the dead. Not sure if it's as good as I'd like, but I was just rolling off the fact that I hate that everyone was so upset with *her* rather than Hotch/JJ who lied and kept it secret all that time. And this is what we're left with.

Tears slowly streamed over your cheeks as you sat in the hard plastic hospital chair for what felt like hours. Your vision blurred; your ears buzzed with noise but you never really heard anything anyone was saying as the team slowly began to leave the emergency room. It had honestly even been a bit of a miracle you’d made it there in the first place, getting the unofficial call from JJ once they’d realized what was going on. While you were part of the FBI, you weren’t in the BAU, you normally wouldn’t have been let in on a case like this. The room was practically spinning, your cheeks were stained with the remnants of tears you had cried out as your fingers twisted the diamond ring on your left hand, one that Emily had given you less than a month ago. A promise of a future together, of plenty of memories to build, a life to grow, one that had been torn away from you in a matter of hours tonight. JJ’s words still ringing in your ears, ‘she didn’t make it off the table.’ You felt a sturdy hand wrap around your shoulder and without looking up you could tell it was Aaron, no doubt feeling responsible to make sure you got somewhere safe tonight,

“I’m not ready to say goodbye yet.” Your voice choked out, rough and raw from holding back sobs earlier.

“I know.” He squeezed softly, “but we can’t stay here much longer. Doyle’s still out there, we need to get you back home Agent Kennedy.”

“Agent?” Hotch’s voice rang clear through your mind and you blinked out of your memories.

“Kennedy?” JJ’s voice was softer and fully shook you out of your nightmares and you finally looked back up at the two of them.

“I’m sorry.” You shook your head with an apologetic smile before you gulped, “I’m… not sure I understand…”

“Emily is alive.” The woman’s voice was soft, her small smile even softer as she sat across from you, her eyes attempting to read your face, “she’s been in hiding since Doyle got to her.”

“Like.. witness protection?” You asked. Normally your brain should have been able to wrap around this in seconds, processing it like the agent you were, but every single fibre within you seemed to have come to a halt. If someone had asked you what one plus one was you would’ve answered eleven.

“Sort of.” Hotch replied, “but the important thing is that we now have Doyle in custody.”

“He escaped Korea… are you sure this is even safe?” You finally looked up at him, tears threatening to spill over your cheeks, “I cannot lose her twice.”

“She’s the only one who can help us get to Declan and end this.” JJ assured, her hand reaching out to squeeze at your knee and you nodded.

“The team doesn’t know yet. I just wanted to make sure you got a heads up. She’s on her way here now.” Hotch commented.

“What?!” Your head shot up, lips parted as you sucked in a breath, “she’s… here?”

“We’re meeting in the round table room in fifteen if you’d like to be there. If you’d prefer a private reunion we can arrange that but there isn’t much time, we need to get to work asap.” The blonde offered and you shook your head.

“No…no..” You wiped away a stray tear, “if you give me even just a moment alone with her I’m not letting her go. And I know this is important. Just… give me a minute to.. get myself together.”

“Alright.” Aaron nodded, swiftly moving past you with a brief squeeze to your shoulder so he could gather the team.

JJ stayed with you, knowing that if you were to be left alone you would never move, frozen in your confusion, in your need for this to all be true yet the terror of it being a nightmare. That if you were to leave Hotch’s office you’d find yourself wandering into the roundtable room to find it empty, that this was another one of your recurring dreams. She handed you a tissue, helping you fix your slightly smeared makeup with a reassuring smile before you finally let out a solid breath and gave her a nod. She only dropped your hand once you hit the doorway of the room, letting you find your way around the table to drop into a chair. The team was used to having you around, even after losing Emily you were someone they consulted with relatively regularly and considering the case, no one batted an eye to you being there today.

You did your best to focus as voices began to fill the room, eyes flitting from one person to the next, your heart thundering in your chest so hard it shifted into your ears. No matter how much you tried to listen to the information all it turned into was a pulse in your head, voices drowned out by your brain telling you this was all your imagination. Until you heard the gasp beside you, the voices speaking their disbeliefs, the sound of footsteps stalling in the doorway to the roundtable room and with one deep breath the scent of her shampoo invaded your scenes from across the room.

“But… we buried you…” It was Spencer’s voice that brought you back to reality, surging you back to the day you’d watched her coffin sink into the dirt and you glanced up at him.

A few other comments were said as you tried to gather your composure, watching Emily cautiously moving through the room, her lips spewing apologies as she went. It wasn’t until your eyes finally landed on her that you let out a shaky breath of relief. She was real, she was there and she was suddenly a foot away from you in a now empty room.

Emily’s hands were shaking, her gut churning harder with every step she got closer to you, she could taste the bile creeping its way up her throat. Somehow coming back from the dead was more anxiety inducing than actually dying. She knew this was going to be intense, she knew it would be a lot, and while Hotch had warned her you’d been looped in, he’d failed to mention that you would be in the room.

“I’m so—” She hadn’t even gotten the sentence out before you’d launched out of the chair and for the briefest second she thought she was about to be hit. Instead you wrapped your arms around her, tighter than she’d expected and she let out a little squeak, causing you to leap away, hands shooting to your mouth.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry.” You muttered, “are you okay? I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“No, no!” Her hand jumped up to your arm, tears blooming in her eyes, “I just… I didn’t exactly expect any warm welcomes.”

“So… you’re really okay?”

“It was touch and go for a while.” She admitted after a heavy sigh, “and I wont lie, things still hurt like hell every so often but yeah… I’m healed… I’m okay.”

“Oh god.” You launched back around her once again, your arms wrapping around her shoulder so tightly you thought you’d never let go.

Emily let herself melt into your embrace, she’d been so worried how everyone would react and somehow you ended up being the single person who seemed to not hate her today. You clung to her with every ounce of love you ever had for her before all of this happened and she very happily buried her face into the crook of your neck. Soaking you in, breathing in the scent of your perfume, the feel of your skin against hers for the first time in months, aching to never let you go.

“We don’t have much time.” You murmured, your lips brushing against her neck and she shuddered.

“Why don’t you hate me?” She asked, her voice shaking as she finally pulled far enough away from you to gaze down at you and you choked out a laugh.

“How could I?” Your lips broke into a grin, “I love you, and you’re alive. How could it get better than that?”

“But…. I abandoned you.” Her voice softened, her hand coming up to caress your cheek, “and the team… and they don’t seem too happy.”

“It’s not your fault!” You nearly laughed, “Doyle…” your voice began to shake as tears flooded into your eyes, “I mean…. He did everything he could. If we were further from the hospital… who even knows…” Emily’s chest tightened at your words, her hand squeezing at your arm.

“You.. you were there?” She asked and you nodded.

“Hotch wouldn’t let me on the scene but I was in the ambulance with you. And I’ve never been more scared in my life. But that doesn’t matter.” You brushed away a tear, your hand reaching out to Emily’s cheek to wipe away her own, “what matters is you’re here now. And before you ask again, no, I will never hate you. Em… Doyle thought he killed you and your life depended on him thinking that he did.”

“You’re not mad about Paris?”

“You had no choice.” You squeezed at her hand, “you’d already ditched both of your phones, the only burner you had left no doubt he destroyed before the warehouse. It’s not like you had any way to contact me. The choice wasn’t yours and was made before you were even out of the coma. Sure, I missed you to hell and back, and every inch of my being wishes that I could’ve been put into hiding with you, but… I feel like then it would’ve been obvious you weren’t dead. And that means you wouldn’t be here right now.”

Emily grasped your hands in hers, taking the plunge to lean in and kiss you and your right hand quickly came up to caress her cheek, letting out a soft whimper at the feels of her lips finally against yours again. She never wanted to pull away, wanted to remain in that moment forever but she knew there was so much more to work though. When she finally did she found her hand playing with yours, cool metal meeting the tips of her fingers before she glanced down and her head tilted.

“You’re still wearing your ring?” She glanced up to you and you smiled, a huff of a laugh escaping your lips.

“I never wanted to give up on you.” You shrugged, “because the only future I saw was with you. The only future I wanted was yours. Even if you didn’t come back.”

“Oh sweetheart.” She stroked at your cheek again, her fingers affectionately pinching at your chin, “I never once stopped thinking about you, never stopped loving you.”

“I know.” You smiled before the two of you jumped at the sound of a knock on the door, glancing toward it as Hotch spoke.

“I hate to intrude, but Emily, we need you now.”

“Yeah.” She nodded toward him, glancing back to you who nodded.

“Go.” You squeezed softly at her hands, “just fucking come home to me in one piece this time, alright?”

“I will. I promise, and I don’t make those lightly.” She replied, leaning in to kiss you gently, “I love you.”

“I love you more.”

“Not possible.”

The rest of the day felt like a blur, every time you caught yourself staring blankly at your computer you were certain that you’d dreamt the entire thing. That you would wander up to the BAU’s floor later with a smile on your face only for it to be replace with tears as the fantasy came crumbling down around you. Instead, you were met with extreme relief when seven p.m. was closing in and you felt a warmth on your shoulder, followed by Emily’s perfume invading your senses and you looked up with a bright smile. While she looked a little worse for wear, and you could tell she was utterly exhausted, she was there, a tired smile on her cheeks as she gazed down at you.

A tired smile that grew large when you jumped out of your chair to wrap her in the tightest hug, pressing a tender kiss to her cheek. She had been so scared about coming back, about how everyone was going to react and after getting the cold shoulder from her team all day she was certain that you would’ve had time to process everything and you would be mad too. Instead of cold, she was met with your hand grasping hers, fingers interlacing and she felt the warmth bursting through her body starting from her fingertips shooting all the way down to her toes. A warmth she hadn’t felt in seven months, one that she had nearly forgotten what it felt like and the one that she had missed more terribly than anything else in the world.

“C’mon.” You murmured, squeezing at her hand, “let’s go home.”

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