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mm-lurking · 3 months

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From the distance - Blade

Since he never made an effort when you tried to befriend him, you gave up and stuck to your own business. Yet somehow, he’s there when you find yourself in trouble.

A/N: Another fic where I just want Blade to be my knight in shining armour. Once again written when I was sleep deprived for several nights straight. The best ideas do come when you are out of your mind fr. No idea where I was going with this tbh, I just kept writing. Sorry if it's ooc and kinda dragged out! I tried to write him as well as possible. Warnings: Blade x fem!reader, some violence, blood and tension between you and Blade. NPC with a CN name, I'm not sure if I used the Chinese name the right way? Apologies in advance if its wrong! WC: 4754 --- Another night at the Xianzhou Luofu. Another meeting with the Stellaron Hunters. In contrast to the calm night outside, Blade impatiently taps his feet as he glares at the door. You’re supposed to be here in the room ready to begin the meeting. Kafka is supposed to be here too but that’s not the point. The point is you and where you are. Some time passes by and the door slowly creaks open. He snaps his head around hoping it's you- only to see Kafka. The tiny glint of anticipation fades away quickly and his usual stone face replaces it, but it is not quick enough to slip by Kafka.

“She’s not going to be here Bladie.”

Kafka chuckles as she walks in and takes a seat at the table. He glares at her.

“I did not ask.”

“You didn’t ask about her indeed, but your face betrays you.”

He scoffs and looks away in the distance. The woman observes him for a moment and smiles.

“She had another meeting to attend urgently. Took me by surprise honestly. She came running here two hours ago hastily explaining herself and apologising before running off again. How amusing.”

Her eyes do not leave Blade’s face as she talks. In her lifetime of working with him, never had she seen him so…agitated over a mere mortal. A mortal he claimed he didn’t care for or wanted to associate with. Another chuckle leaves her lips and she waves her hand dismissively.

“Well since it’s just the two of us we can postpone the meeting.”

She gets up from the chair and turns around to walk away only for Blade to stop her.

“Kafka.”

“Yes?”

“Who is she meeting?”

She places a hand on her waist and smirks. He says nothing more and continues staring at her face waiting for an answer.

“I thought you said you didn’t care?”

“Kafka.”

His tone suggests he is in no mood for jokes. She sighs and shakes her head.

“She’s meeting Mr Li Qi.”

“..?!”

Kafka observes his startled expression and pretends to be clueless as she taps her finger on her lips. She knew what she was doing of course.

“What’s the matter, Blade? You look like you’re in deep thought.”

“You knew she was going to Li Qi and let her go on her own?”

Kafka shrugs.

“Why not?”

His jaw clenches and unclenches as he looks straight into her eyes.

“You know how dangerous that man is.”

“Oh come on Bladie. She’s more than capable of handling him. After all, she was the one who approached him first.”

His eyes grow wide momentarily before returning to normal. Several thoughts are running in his head but the main theme is along the lines of how stupid and foolish you are. Li Qi, a businessman on the Luofu was notorious for his shady practices and downright unethical behaviour. To the common folk, he was a simple successful businessman but to those who had intel on him or many connections across the Luofu, they knew of his true identity and what dangers lurked in associating with him. He was cunning enough to protect himself and the business from the eyes of the law while simultaneously maintaining his illegal proceedings.

“You didn’t attempt to stop her even once?”

Blade’s voice is laced with concern and disbelief as he replies.

“Why should I? Who are we to interfere in her plans? We are not saviours.”

In contrast to her unconcerned-sounding words, her face is the complete opposite. She displays a small smile, intently watching Blade to see what he would do.

“…”

Silence fills the air. There is a faraway look in his eyes as he stares at the entrance door.

“You should have told me earlier.”

He says calmly as he suddenly stands up and walks towards the door, taking long strides as if he urgently had to leave.

“Whether you decide to protect her or not…it is all part of Elio’s script.”

The way she speaks is as if she was merely watching the pawn move in a game of chess, already aware of every move that was going to occur. He freezes on the spot as he realises.

“You already knew this was going to happen, didn’t you?”

He turns around to look at her and she shrugs, completely avoiding the question before continuing.

“There is a warehouse at Stargazer Navalia where Mr Li Qi frequents. If I am correct, she must be there right now.”

There is nothing more said between the two as Blade nods and opens the door before he walks away in a fast-paced manner. When the door shuts close Kafka stares at the door for a moment before laughing.

“So much for not caring huh? Oh, Bladie..”

—

You could tell something was off since you stepped foot into the warehouse. There were several red flags actually. One, Mr Li Qi asked to meet you in this warehouse instead of a commonplace like the restaurants in Aurum Alley. Two, you weren’t here to look at the items of interest yet so you shouldn’t be in a warehouse in the first place. Three, the silence of the meeting point and how it was conveniently hidden away in a deserted side of the Stargazer Navalia.

You weren’t a fool though. You had purposely walked into this trap well aware that there was something oddly peculiar about this man. Something about the way Mr Li Qi looked and the suspicious tone of his messages told you he was a man worth investigating. You weren’t from the IPC nor were you a Stellaron Hunter, but you sure had made a name for yourself amongst the natives in terms of commissions and business.

Perhaps that is why Mr Li Qi was so delighted to meet you when you first sent a request to meet him. Perhaps that is also why there was a gun pressed against the side of your forehead. The cold barrel, in contrast to your sweaty skin, sent shivers down your spine.

“Tell me miss, surely you didn’t take me as a fool?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

You reply calmly but groan when the gun is pressed harder into your skull. Mr Li Qi is standing behind you with a harsh grip on the back of your neck as he uses his right hand to firmly point the gun at you. You scan your environment to make sense of the danger you’re in. The long eerily hall of the warehouse has almost no inventory; a few boxes of odd things lie around and there are some cardboard boxes stacked over in the corner. They are probably meant as a cover or to fake the appearance of a warehouse. There aren’t many men of his around either, just two bodyguards that currently stand in front of you to prevent your escape and a few other men in the far distance at the door standing like statues.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about? Is that so?”

He mocks your words and grits his teeth. You feel another chill run down your spine.

“Do you take me as a fool miss? I am fully aware of who you are and what you do.”

“I seriously have no idea what you’re talking about. I collect antiques for fun and that’s why I approached you.”

Lies. You were praying he wouldn’t realise you were lying through your teeth. You weren’t here for antics, you were here to investigate a fraud he had committed. One of your family friends had been caught in his traps and this sly fox was able to avoid all legal charges by hiding documents and falsifying testimonies. Having no hope left, the family friend had turned to you for help and considering your ties with them you agreed.

“How peculiar of you to approach me instead of the many, many antique collectors out there. Your interest in the jade pendants of the Xianzhou is very uncalled for considering your job status.”

You gulp. Shoot. No pun intended.

“Who are you to judge my interests Mr.? Especially if it brings you money?”

You retort and immediately regret it when the gun goes off with a loud bang.

His breathing is heavier than usual as he finally reaches Stargazer Navalia. The veins on his neck have not stopped popping from how tightly he has been clenching his jaw and gritting his teeth. A flurry of insults goes through his head as he thinks of you while he simultaneously searches for the warehouse. There is no time to rest as he dashes through the tall steel container boxes and small bridges frantically searching for you.

“…?!”

In the distance, he hears the sound of a gun going off and freezes momentarily before whipping his head around to see a large warehouse a couple of meters away. The description of the warehouse fits what Kafka had told him and he dashes towards it. Was that…? No, it can’t be, he shakes off the negative thoughts as he aggressively pushes against the large wooden doors with his body. The lock from the inside breaks into two from the strength he exerts and the doors swing open, revealing several men ready to fight and four figures in the dim light further away.

“Who goes there?!”

Li Qi shouts from the other end, his voice echoing off the walls of the empty warehouse. There are hints of anxiety and anger in his words but Blade says nothing. Instead, he pulls out his weapon and slashes his way through the men guarding the door, injuring them swiftly and easily as they drop on the floor like dead flies. One of them tries to grab onto his leg and he stomps on the guard’s chest, making the guard scream in pain. He sneers.

He takes longer and faster strides as he approaches where you are and your figure becomes clearer with each step he takes. A small sigh of relief leaves his lips as he realises that you’re still alive. The look on his face is deadly with his eyes ablaze and he glares at the two bodyguards blocking him from your view.

Eventhough you are not one to be afraid of danger, the gun going off right next to your head has you shaken up. The vibrations of the gun ripple through your skull and you can feel a headache setting in. Lucky for you, the gun lacks bullets as you’re clearly still alive after he pulled the trigger. Li Qi mumbles a bunch of insults under his breath as he attempts to refill the bullets only to stop as the warehouse doors open with a loud thud. Both you and your captor flinch at the unexpected event, confused at the commotion by the door.

You hear Li Qi yell but you don’t register what he says. Your eyes are on the figure that violently makes its way through the appointed guards of the warehouse, like a tornado destroying everything in its path as it gets closer to you. It is when the figure stands in your line of sight do you recognise -it is Blade.

“Bla-“

He looks at you immediately when you call out to him in a raspy voice. Unfortunately, Li Qi prevents you from finishing his name as he cocks the gun and roughly handles you making you wince. Blade’s grip on his weapon tightens trying to control the urge to cut off the man’s head on the spot. In contrast to your situation, Blade notes that you look calm for someone who is in the hands of death.

“Shut up or I will put a bullet through your head”, Mr Li Qi seethes. “You are lucky I forgot to replace my bullets- wha-?!”

A loud slash resounds in the air as Blade can no longer stand the nuisance and brandishes his weapon in front of the bodyguards causing Li Qi to quiver. He gives the men no chance to prepare for how rapidly he makes use of his sword, cementing his prowess as a swordsman once again in front of you. You close your eyes not wanting to see the bloodshed as a chill goes down your spine hearing the clashing of swords and grunts of the bodyguards. Before you know it, it’s just you, Li Qi and Blade left in the warehouse. The loud groans and whines of the guards fill the air as their wounds hurt. There are streaks and splashes of blood all over the floor but none of that bothers Blade however as he stands in front of you, his eyes flickering back and forth between you and your captor.

“D-do not take another step! Or- or I will kill her!”

Li Qi panics and screeches as he points the gun at your saviour and then back at you. All you do is flash a tiny smile at Blade. You’re tired, exhausted and the bruise forming on your neck and now the side of the forehead hurts. The willpower you had at the beginning of the situation has started to waver as you feel stale and unable to turn the tables. And with a splitting headache that only seems to get worse, you don’t have the brainpower to think either. You watch how he continues to look at you silently with eyes that carry concern and anger.

“Let her go.”

Blade states firmly. It is not a request, it is an order. The businessman looks visibly shaken from how his men are lying on the floor and the threatening command of the Stellaron Hunter. Instead of obeying, he frantically runs his mouth again.

“You, I know you! Aren’t you the guy that the IPC wants?! You’re a criminal yourself, how dare you tell me what to do?!”

Blade scoffs. You gulp, knowing this won’t end well. He says nothing and simply repeats his warning.

“I said let. Her. Go.”

You know he is not talking to you but somehow you’re starting to shiver in fear too. This man has always avoided almost any interaction with you yet here he was, asking your captor to release you with such a menacing aura. This side of him was so rare and frightening to see that you were silently praying you would never have to see it again.

Li Qi refuses to comply and Blade hmphs before drawing his sword once again and striking the arm of Li Qi. It all happens so fast that you barely have the chance to move as the blade whizzes past your ear and hits Qi. The gun drops from his hand on the ground with a loud thud as he wails in pain, clutching his injured arm with the other. Blood is trickling down his hands and arms and it splatters on your shoes. You stand there for a while stunned at what’s going on only to be brought back to your senses when Blade grabs your hand and pulls you into his chest.

“Huh-? Oh-!”

It takes you a moment to register your position. Your hands have subconsciously gripped his coat to steady yourself and his free hand is loosely hanging on your lower back. You can’t see his face from this position but you can hear his loud heartbeat and the way he takes slow deep breaths. He smells like blood and the finest mix of musky perfume, a scent you are unfamiliar with but still welcome. Suddenly you find yourself feeling flustered and awkward and try to pull away from his body only for his arm around you to tighten.

“B-blade?!”

Li Qi is still yelling and wailing behind you but being in Blade’s arms has somehow blocked it all out, like a magical shield that is keeping you safe. Your own heartbeat starts to increase as his crimson eyes meet yours and he maintains eye contact without breaking away.

“Fool.”

He finally speaks and you are baffled.

“What?”

“You are incredibly stupid.”

“Excuse me?”

“Is your hearing impaired?”

“My head is aching very badly, thank you very much.”

What the hell is with this man?! You scowl at the way he talks to you. You no longer want to be in his arms anymore and use your strength to push yourself away but to no avail. Frustrated you smack his chest grumbling at him.

“I’m ok now, can you let me go? Sheesh.”

As you both are bantering, behind you, Li Qi stumbles to grab his gun from the floor. There is a cruel smile on his face as he lifts the gun, points it straight at the back of your head and presses the trigger.

“…!”

Blade’s eyes suddenly narrow as he pushes you into his chest once again and hauls his weapon up to cover your skull just in time. You gasp as the bullet ricochets off his weapon with a loud shing leaving you stunned. You tremble in his arms from the impact, trying to process what just happened.

“Close your eyes.”

He says gently and you obey. All you hear is the sound of his blade being hurled at the businessman and an ear-piercing scream that makes your blood curdle. You squeeze your eyes shut tighter.

“Keep your eyes closed.”

He commands you and you nod. You feel the loss of his body warmth as he detaches himself from you and walks towards the businessman. Li Qi is lying on the floor with the sword piercing his chest as he gasps for air. He attempts to grab his gun again which is a few centimetres away from his fingers only for Blade to stomp on his hand and kick the gun away from him. You flinch at how the businessman screams.

“Holding an innocent hostage is a greater sin than mine.”

Blade says as a matter-of-factly and removes the sword from his chest. Another nightmarish scream rings in your ears and you open your eyes from the discomfort you feel. You don’t even want to turn around and see the state your captor might be in. Blade walks back and faces you, frowning when he sees your eyes open.

“I told you to keep your eyes closed.”

“I-I tried-“

“It doesn’t matter. Do not look back.”

“Okay..”

You reluctantly listen to him, feeling extremely uncomfortable at how the situation has evolved. A moment of silence passes before you speak again.

“Is he…dead?”

You watch him look behind you and hmph before replying.

“If he isn’t now…he will be later.”

“But if he dies…I will be implicated..”

“No one knew about your meeting except Kafka, Li Qi and I, correct? There should be no issue then.”

“Blade that’s not how it-“

“You nearly died.”

Blade says coldly and you feel your heart drop.

“I nearly died yes, but this-“

“Why are you so complicated to deal with?”

“…what?”

Now you feel anger bubbling in your chest.

“I was not the one who asked you to barge into the warehouse by the way.”

You hiss at him and he glares at you.

“And you expected to survive? Alone in this warehouse?”

“I don’t see why that bothers you.”

“Your foolishness will get you killed one day.”

“Even if it does, how does that impact you? Not like you want me around anyways.”

Your head was pounding, the bruises on your neck and forehead stung, you were fatigued and shaken up and this man was simultaneously insulting your intelligence and capabilities. Of course you were agitated. Blade stares at you for a moment before sighing.

“How it impacts me has nothing to do with you.”

“Are you even hearing yourself?!”

“He would have killed you easily.”

You press a hand against your forehead and take a deep breath. Why was he arguing with you?

“It is I that will be in deep trouble if Mr. Li Qi dies, not you or Kafka regardless of who knew about our meeting. I have a reputation to maintain unlike you. And by the way, I did not need you to save me. You don’t even care about me and frankly, you don’t even show an ounce of cooperation when I try to work with you.”

You take a step closer to him. Tears brim in your eyes as you express your frustration.

“If my death were written to be tonight,” you look him straight in the eye, “it wouldn’t change a thing in your life. In fact, I am sure you would be glad of my riddance.”

Audacity flows through your veins as you jab a finger in his chest with each word you speak. Tears stream down your face and your throat closes up from the emotions that swarm you.

“So don’t tell me how to feel. You have no right to do so.”

He looks at you, speechless and shocked at the way you’re behaving. In the blink of an eye, you furiously wipe your tears before dashing off. Everything hurts and you feel like you’re suffocating. You pay no heed to the injured guards or the blood all over the floor as you run as fast as your legs can take you away from this place. You don’t even turn to take a look at Blade’s reaction. So much for fulfilling a request. So much for simply wanting to do the right thing. It was supposed to be a simple mission, why did it turn out like this? And why, out of all people that could come save you, was it Blade that had become your saviour?

You weren’t trying to cozy up to him, you weren’t trying to take advantage of his power, you weren’t trying to do anything at all. You simply wanted a mutual alliance for the sake of teamwork but he didn’t even bother to reciprocate. All those times he left you hanging, making you feel embarrassed, making you feel like a fool…how dare he come to your aid and then proceed to make you feel like you weren’t even good enough?

You finally stop running when your legs grow weary. It takes a moment for you to realise you’re still in Stargazer Navalia though you’re not sure where exactly. The winds of the night are gentle as the moon shines brightly in the sky. At least it was all over right? At least now there will be no more cases of scamming and threats from Li Qi, at least now your family friend can finally breathe in relief, at least you’re still alive after all that so why, why do you feel worse than you did when you entered the warehouse?

You sit on the stone pavement near a large steel container, hugging your knees and sobbing your heart out. The bruises sting once again and you wince. You wince harder as you softly trace the bruise on the back of your neck. God, was it that bad? How long had Li Qi held you for you to bruise like this? Doesn’t matter. There was no point in thinking about it any further. You didn’t want to think about anything at all.

“There you are.”

A familiar deep voice rings in the distance and you look up to see Blade again. His breathing is heavier than usual and he sighs in relief as he lays his eyes on you. How the hell did he even find me?! A scowl forms on your face and you bury your head back into your knees, unwilling to speak to him. He stands there for a while before coming closer to kneel in front of you awkwardly.

“Are you hurt?”

You roll your eyes knowing he can’t see them. Given that you don’t answer, he places a hand on your forehead and pushes your head up causing you to yelp. You try to resist but his strength overpowers yours.

“Leave me alone.”

You say coldly, refusing to make eye contact with him as he examines your face for injuries. He ignores your reply and frowns at your tear-stained face. One look at the bruise on the side of your head and his frown deepens.

“I should have killed him the moment I saw him.”

“W-what?!”

He ignores your reply again as he wipes the tears from your eyes. You flinch at his odd behaviour but don’t push him away. His hands drop from your face to your neck to observe the bruising.

“Stabbing him once didn’t suffice.”

The soul leaves your body as he states his murderous intentions to you absentmindedly while looking at your injury. How was he being so caring while mentioning such things?!

“Y-you you can go now…”

Blade shakes his head.

“You’re injured. You’re lucky these bruises are all you have. I was afraid that the gun…”

He trails off and looks in the distance again. For a man who lived and breathed murder and blood, he sure was hesitant talking about you nearly getting shot. You blink at him, shocked at the words coming out of his mouth. Was this…his way of showing care?

“I would have stabbed him over and over if he had shot you.”

You freeze and Blade feels the way your neck muscles tighten on his fingertips. He gives you a small smile that further scares you.

“I-If you’re saying these things to make me feel better you can stop now. I’m fine.”

“I am speaking my honest opinion.”

A blush creeps up on your face and warmth surges through your body. This hot shot was capable of being nice after all. You feel his fingers cup your face again as he softly strokes your tear-stained cheeks. The cool breeze toys with your hair and he gently pushes the loose strands away, not breaking eye contact with you. You don’t understand what he’s trying to do but you let him be.

“I…I did not mean to hurt your feelings earlier.”

You scoff and turn away.

“If anything had happened to you, I am unsure if I would be able to forgive myself.”

That statement alone makes you snap your head back to him and he smiles at you, his eyes softening with such warmth that it makes your heart beat faster. A smile so authentic that it almost makes you forget he is a wanted criminal with a 9 million bounty.

“You…should have told me you were meeting Li Qi earlier.”

“I would have if you bothered to listen when I talk.”

You glare at him and he sighs. Conflicting emotions are swirling in his eyes.

“I had no interest in talking to you before.”

“Do you find joy in insulting my existence or what?”

You fume as you push yourself up from the ground, wanting to get away from him. Blade follows suit as he immediately puts his arms around your waist, tightening his grip which makes you gasp.

“Blade what the hell is wrong with you?!”

“It is unsafe for you to go back on your own.”

“At least I won’t have to deal with you.”

His eyebrows knit together as he looks at you concerned.

“I cannot have you get hurt again.”

“Geez I am not a baby- Blade-!”

You barely finish your sentence as he picks you up bridal style out of nowhere causing you to tightly hold onto his coat once again. You squeeze your eyes shut as dizziness takes over and bury your head into his chest. A soft chuckle escapes his lips and you can’t help but smile at how he sounds. Any happy emotion from him is foreign to you yet cute at the same time. The loud heartbeat that vibrates from his chest soothes you somehow and that metallic musky scent of his calms your senses. Despite how he drives you crazy, you wish you could remain like this for as long as possible. Not that you would ever say that out loud.

“You will be safe from the law as long as you’re with me. I will have Kafka take care of this mess.”

Despite your protests on how ‘ I want to do this the right away’ and ‘I can tell the cloud knights the truth’ he just completely ignores everything you have to say as he walks away from Stargazer Navalia with you in his arms. A small smile of amusement is plastered on his face as he pays no heed to your ramblings about the law or the consequences of his actions. He never listens to you, does he? And for once, you don’t mind it either. ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ ©mm-lurking 2024 do not copy, steal or reuse my work.

#honkai star rail #blade x reader #blade hsr #hsr x reader #blade x you #hsr blade #enemies to lovers #enemies to lovers blade #blade fluff #blade angst #hsr angst #hsr x you #honkai star rail x reader #blade honkai #stellaron hunters #blade x female reader

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moongumi · 1 year

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⁀➷ ∵ ❝ stay professional²❞

⟶ simon 'ghost' riley x reader

⟶ cw. ooc!ghost, fem!reader, flirting, established flirtationship, sexual jokes, teasing, fondling, sexual tension, needy.

⟶ note. not edited, written out of pure thirst. this is based on the mission when ghost and soap makes lots of cute jokes (same MC from other ghost fic i've written)

to put it simply, things are tense. everyone could feel it, they could tell. ghost was constantly frustrated, seemingly angry at his own feelings.

"so you're saying you've seen his face?" your voice echoes behind him, making his ears twitch as he walks ahead leading the group.

the person you were talking to, soap snorts, "yep."

"no way." you breathed, mouth agape. your eyes flicker to the back of ghost's head, trying to imagine his face–hm. you've only felt it, with your hands and lips, see the curves of his chin and jaw in the dark. but fuck, that wouldn't compare to getting a look at him–even for a second.

"i’m jealous." you whispered, cocking your head back at soap.

soap chuckles, gripping the stock of his rifle, "nah, you'll be disappointed, trust me."

──────⊹⊱✫⊰⊹──────

"where the fuck, where am i going?" you whisper shout into your radio, feeling the heat of bullets whizzing past your head tearing apart the wood, splitting the beam that protected you.

ghost sighs, his voice deep and grovelled, "calm down."

"i can't calm down." you couldn't. the shadow company had just betrayed you all and here you are, fighting for your life--firing bullets back at the people who you were working with. you rest your head against the wall, breathing heavily.

"get to the church. i'll be there, try to stay quiet."

"they're fucking firing at me, i don't think quiet's an option." with that the two that were shooting at you, drop to the ground with a loud thud.

"get going."

you sigh, moving past the bodies towards the church he mentioned. "where is soap?"

"he's on the way, don't worry about him. worry about yourself" ghost seemed preoccupied, you can hear him reloading his mags.

“you care about me then, you like me ghost?” you decide to tease him, easing the tension and your own stress.

“i like you alive.”

"uh." you groan. “alright, i’ll try to stay alive.”

ghost hears the tone of your voice. he rolls his eyes at his stupidity but decides to go for it. "you wanna hear a joke?"

"from you? you have jokes, ghost." you quip. already your mood is lightened, it lifts a weight off his chest for some reason.

"hm, want 'em or not?"

"maybe," you reply, grabbing spare mags off guns you could find on the ground from all of ghost's work. then you notice a dog, "there's a dog here."

"if it barks, shoot it."

"no way, i'm not shooting a dog," you say.

ghost clicks his tongue, "what has two legs and bleeds?"

you roll your eyes already, breathing in a breath. "what?"

"half a dog."

"fuck off." you groan. his sheepish tone and slight humour were at least comforting but fuck, his jokes were terrible and stone cold. "i didn't like that one."

"want another?" ghost decides to continue the conversation. he was doing it to be able to know what you were doing if you were in trouble–he just needed to know.

"not really to be honest," you say. you see shadows walking around the building and decide to go around hoping to not have to try to murder two large men alone where it would get loud and attract attention.

"two goldfish are in a tank..."

"hm, hm?" you only make noises, it was enough for him.

"one turns to the other and says...'you know how to drive this thing?' just a little army humour." he jokes.

you sigh, "very little, makes absolutely no sense to me."

"you're too young." that might be true, but you were old enough to be working alongside him.

you shrug, and a grin grows on your face as you say, "not too young for you i hope."

you can only hear a slight cough and rustling. no response. so you decide to change the subject.

"i've got one for you."

"let's hear it then," he replies quickly, he definitely heard that earlier then, he was just ignoring it.

"why was the strawberry crying?" you recall a joke soap had told you before.

"why?" he breathed.

"because he was in jam." you chuckle. cutely, he notes.

ghost's eyebrows quirked, a small grin threatening to grow on his face, "not bad, we could do this all night."

"there are many things we could do all night–ghost–" this time he chokes up, rather loudly.

you jog around, managing to sneak by most of the people and gather enough to cause a distraction. the church was properly in sight and it was almost over.

"hm, i’m at the bar now." you poke about, most of it was destroyed but still, "would love something right now."

"you like tequila?" he asks.

"nope, tastes like ass."

"i'd murder for a whiskey."

he definitely would. he seemed like the type to like that kinda thing, you continue, "you mean scotch?"

"i drink bourbon," he replies, which makes sense.

"oh, so like a good boy, huh?" you moaned slightly as you spoke, teasing him.

"shut up." he sighs, "and focus."

──────⊹⊱✫⊰⊹──────

“so you got something for masks?” you ask, nearing the church.

ghost breathes, “what do you mean?”

“mask kink? i hear you sleep with that thing,” you say, hoping he’d give a good response.

“no, you got something against my mask?” he replies.

“i do, take it off.”

“show my face?”

“yes, sir.” something about the way you said that makes his stomach turn–the pits of his gut warm and he shakes his head trying to ignore the feelings.

“negative.”

“damn, are you ugly?” you ask, your voice soft.

“quite the opposite.” you could practically hear the smirk on his face.

“it’s not fair.” you huff, climbing over an iron fence over at the church already, “is soap here?”

“no, he’s almost here. and what’s not fair?”

“he knows what you look like, and i don’t?” you say.

and then you see him, after climbing up the stairs he’s positioned at the window with his sniper rifle as he picked off many of those shadows for you and soap.

ghost feels a weight lift off his shoulders seeing your rather tattered form finally reach him. even with all the dirt, mud and water covering you–his nose, even through the mask caught the scent of you.

“don’t be a hypocrite, snow.”

you walk over to him, resting your gun on the wall. and sigh, “i’m not, my face is on files–”

“i know i’ve seen them.”

wait what? “the fuck–”

he chuckles, turning towards you. his eyes are dark and the paint that coats his eyelids has mostly washed off, “you’re not bad, kid.”

“you’re going to have to stop calling me kid if you’re trying to fuck me.”

ghost’s shoulder tense and his eyes darken, “what?”

“i said what i said.” you walk towards him, god, you both stink but it didn’t fucking matter. the adrenaline, the pain and fucking stench of blood–hours of unease, not knowing. it’s quiet now, silence falls between you two.

your neck cranes to look up at him, peering at him through your own dirtied balaclava, your lashes are heavy–batting them at him. chest rising and falling slowly, the tensions rise and the room grows hot and heavy.

“snow.”

“hm,” you let out a sound.

he drops his hand from the rifle, the stock hits the windowsill. within a second he’s an inch from you, and your head’s against a wall. his hand grips your throat, gently enough–forcing your head up higher for him.

“not now.”

“why not?”

his eyes flicker between your face, and your legs–the legs that are rubbing against themselves and his large thighs. you gulp, lids heavy–feeling the burn of his gaze. his gloved hands feel like fire, from your throat the palm rests on your cheeks and his fingers lace into your loose hair–he grips it. his mask is literally against yours.

you can feel the heat of his breath, “you’ve been fucking teasing me, snow.”

“i know, it was fun, now finish the job.”

his other hand, free, feels up the curves of your body–finds a resting point at your waist, he grips it tightly going under the tattered fabric to feel the heat of your skin. his eyes shut, fuck, it feels good.

“hm,” he groans, into your ear.

your smaller fingers touch his arm, his tattoos peek from his rolled up sleeves. “does it feel good?” the way he moulds your skin like dough. “other parts of me feel better.”

“i bet it does, fuck.” the skull part of his mask nudges your nose, as he breathes you in.

“feel ‘em.” it was the way you looked at him, like you wanted to give him everything. your fingers lace between his, fingerless gloved hands control his own guiding them towards your chest. “they’re yours.”

his large hands near, he could feel them twitching. but of course, fate had other desires. gunfire rings from below and you can spot soap running from way too many shadows for him to handle.

ghost pulls away immediately and grabs his effects. you rolled your eyes, “next time i guess.”

“stay professional, snow.” ghost clears his throat, as you two rush down the stairs to help soap.

you raised your eyebrows, “grabbing my tits seemed professional.”

“i didn’t.”

“you would’ve.”

he rolls his eyes, “but i didn’t.”

end note: i wrote this so looong ago but yea here it is just some teasey stuff with the same characters from the previous ghost fic i wrote kewk

#☾ ⟶ moon writes #FINALLY POSTING THIS #cod x reader #cod smut #call of duty x reader #ghost x reader #ghost smut #ghost fluff #simon riley x reader

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gendercomsumer · 1 year

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Twisted Wonderland Confessions Part 5!

A/N: We're almost finished with the series! Idk what I'll write for after but I'll figure it out eventually. Also my computer broke in the middle of writing this- so yayyyyy

Warnings: Not proof read, Ooc Sebek, Lilia being a menace /hj (Also not knowing how to write him-),

GN!Reader

Characters: Sebek Zigavolt (773 words), Lilia Vanrouge (509 words), Leona Kingscholar (761 words)

Sebek Zigavolt

You'd meet him during the spell drive tournament (Book 2 w/ savanaclaw) When there was the plan to take Diasmonia out of the running for the whole thing.

It was only a small moment you two saw each other but from first impressions he was loud, and most definitely not afraid of showing his loudness off.

You ran into each other again during school realizing you had more classes with the fae then you first thought.

While Sebek is very loud at times, he's diligent and takes great and very organized notes (Even if they're only in pencil with no indicating colors.)

As a friend Sebek is a bit strange

You'll usually find him doing his own thing or lecturing a student on the topic of respect.

You two would hangout during lunch usually close by Malleus in case he needs Sebek to guard him.

A personal head canon is that he's also a bit suspicious of everyone, not like heavily so but it came naturally with him being a knight.

So he might not fully trust you at first to be able to be at two arms length of Malleus.

I mean at least he's being a good guard am I right?

He will let you borrow his notes if you need to, saying some comment along the lines of, "Ha! Of course a human would need my notes!"

While he can help you in math and science he does struggle in art and the more creative classes.

Help him with those and he'll see it as a favors for favors situation.

I can't really see him easily identifying let alone accepting his feelings for you

He at first thinks he's sick, or if you know magic you've somehow slipped a curse on him

He goes to Lilia for guidance and this old man while he looked composed was cackling on the inside.

Lilia explains that Sebek is most likely falling in love with the human and Sebek seems almost appalled by the suggestion.

Him? A fae? Falling for you some random pathetic human?!

No no that can't be right!

This was one of the only times he started to question Lilias judgment and views on the matter.

After getting the same opinion of Silver as well, and a lot of thought, he comes to the conclusion that maybe, just maybe, he might have a teeny itty bitty crush on you.

That's as much as he was going to admit though.

Lilia what do you mean when will he tell them? He's not!

He tries to act the same but the words of his family stuck to the back of his head.

How passionate you were about things you loved and how you have done so much despite being only a human

at times you could catch his stone face starting to melt into a soft lovesick smile

Maybe that crush wasn't as small as he said it was

But he'd never admit that

Confession wise, either he puts it off for as long as he can or you decide to go up and confront him on his very badly hidden feelings.

So for this let's say you've picked up on his hiding of feelings and decide that now's the best time as any to let him know how you feel

You kept your fingers crossed that he felt the same as Lila led you through their dorm

"Alright third door on the left should be Sebek's, don't get too crazy now kids!"

Lilia left down the stairs with a childish laugh as you went down the hall hearing Sebeks voice through the walls.

It really showed how loud his voice could be considering the dorm was made of stone

Standing outside the door you could easily hear Sebek monologuing to himself about... He was talking about you?

The mention of your name was sudden followed by the names of Lilia and Silver.

"If both master Lilia and Silver say that I've... Fallen for this human, does that mean it's true!? mater Lilia is rarely wrong... But I can't be! They're just a human! A human who makes me feel like I'm in front of the thorn fairy herself at times... No no! How dare I compare the two!!"

He continued and a dust of color was brought to your cheeks to raise a hand to knock on his door hopefully loud enough he'd hear.

There was a long pause before the door was opened by Sebek and at the sight of you his face flushed.

In an uncharacteristically quiet way he asked "Please tell me you didn't hear any of that... Did you?"

Lilia Vanrouge

One day You walk out of your dorm planning to go get some food from Sam's shop since it had been awhile since you went on a grocery run.

It was a beautiful day out with the just right amount of clouds

You take a step out of your house, and Lilia appears seemingly out of thin air hanging upside down from your shade on the porch of your house

Yep that's how you met, him almost scaring the living shit out of you on a random Tuesday morning

What a fun way to start off!

After him almost killing you with that scare he would randomly pop up at times scaring anyone and everyone around you (after awhile you got used to it)

He's a very fun person over all despite what he's been through with the fae war and all

His jokes and lightheartedness are usually welcome lifting any bad mood you may have.

he'll try his best to help in any classes, he's a fucking god in history having lived though most of what they're teaching

And as the feelings start to appear he's a bit taken aback by their sudden appearance.

He's had many lovers in his years but this time the love feels different almost?

It's hard for him to describe, hell it's hard for him to comprehend, but nonetheless he enjoys the soft feeling you give him when you're around

He'd consider a long while on whether or not he would want a relationship with you

You are a human and he will most definitely out live you no matter what the world has in store

It's just the sad truth of having an extremely long life span like his

Once he is sure of this he will start to make more moves on you and attempt to gauge your reaction to them.

Depending on your reaction will depend when he confesses to you, or how much longer he wants to wait to confess.

I can see his confession being one on the more romantic side, but not like not as romantic as Rook.

Most likely he would confess in the middle of a hangout he'd be subtly flirting with you whether you notice or not is most likely up to how dense or oblivious you are

He'd be laying on the couch of the living room possibly (most defiantly) upside down

You'd be talking about some random topic and you look away for moment and suddenly oop there he is floating upside down in front of you.

You jumped and laughed questioning Lilia what he was doing

He stayed silent for a moment staring at you in a manner some would consider creepy before letting out a small laugh.

You asked what was so funny in a bit of a cautious manner and Lilia smiled at you "I've had plenty of lovers... but none were a stunning nor did they make me feel as strange as you do... so tell me, will you help me explore what makes you the one..?"

Leona Kingscholar

After the events, to say the least, of book two he's very salty about everything for at least a week

Eventually and inevitably the two of you need to work together (Either during or before book 3)

Or Ruggie some how convinced you to help him out with the lazy Lion

And either way hey it worked!

Most of the time Leona is either bored, sleeping, or secret option number 3! bored and wanting to sleep...

He's an interesting character to get along with and once you do it's a different side you see other than the one that's just a lazy ion that Ruggie and the other students need to deal with

You learn very quickly that he's very smart and knows most of what the teachers are teaching.

He just normally doesn't have the energy or the want to participate in classes.

Which in my opinion fair my dude

But because he's really book smart if you ask and he's in a good mood he would "dumb down the lesson" in reality he's reteaching it just in a way that's easier to understand.

He sleeps a lot so he knows how important it is to get enough of said sleep.

So if you're close (good friends and such) if he sees you start to drift off during class or fall asleep, he'll cover for you but will scold you that that's not a proper place to take a nap

He then proceeds to take a nap in potion class with Rook in the room. What was that about proper nap locations Leona?

But either than that he's a bit sassy at times and can joke around, hell he calls you Herbivore all the time, that should be evidence enough.

One time you had fallen asleep under a tree (Silver kinnie energy-) and Leona found you

He ended up staying with you and skipping class to take a nap of his own and that's when his feelings for you start to fully come into light.

When he saw you sleeping there, there was a small part of him who wanted to stay with you and protect you, silly right?

Now Leona's well versed in emotions. He'd seen how his brother acted around his now sister in law and here they were now with the menace of a child Cheeka.

So once these feelings start to become stronger and more prominent it starts to reflect in his behavior

I am an avid believer in the beast men/ mermen are possessive change my mind (warning you can't)

He'd start to stay around you a lot more than normal and once Ruggie joked that you had cat nip in your pocket and Leona was following you because of it.

Leona makes sure you get enough sleep a day. Didn't get 8 hours at least last night, whelp hopefully nothing important is happening in Crewels class cause you're skipping to take a nap!

He also makes sure you're eating right and not burying yourself in your work (I'm looking at you Crowley)

He also gets protective over you and if people look at you the wrong way they will have a lion glaring them down.

As for confessions I can see him being pretty nonchalant about it.

One day you had been studying in your room since you needed help in History.

Leona went to go get something and you decided to ley your head down on your bed to see if you could catch some quick rest

Leona returned sometime later and looked at you confused

you were still awake but you didn't want to bother to open your eyes as you were in a comfortable position and sleep sounded like a very nice idea at the moment

"Oi, Herbivore, are you asleep?" You stayed quiet and still as Leona looked over your face and gave a mischievous smile.

"Well isn't that adorable.. and here I thought I was the lazy one.." He gently brushed some hair out of your face and placed a feather light kiss to your temple

"It was your idea to study and you're the one to fall asleep.." You could feel the color come to your face as Leona sat at the end of the bed watching you

You eventually sat up and Leona laughed seeing the red color across your face "Thought so I wouldn't think you'd fall asleep that quickly, so tell me Herbivore.." Leona leaned closer to you with a smug smile

"you do know it's dangerous to fall asleep around a lion, don't you?"

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ronearoundblindly · 1 year

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The Root Of All Ransom (Finale)

Ransom Drysdale x rich!Reader (see previous or series)

Summary: Ransom figures out how to undo his disinheritance.

Warnings for language (I'm never kidding about how many f-bombs this boy drops), smut (blowjob, p in v sex that is consensually unprotected, general smuttery), vague contemplations of murder but we ain't going the canon route. MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY. There is plenty else for you to read on my Light Masterlist. This is not your story!

I have somehow managed to put Ransom Drysdale deep in his feels. This is only OOC if you haven't read up to this point, but we do end on a soft!Ransom note. WC 6954 (oh my fucking wat???)

Ransom huffs out a foggy breath in the night air, cold in more ways than one. All the windows glow from the mansion, yet it looks completely different in light of what Harlan’s done.

Thrombey Manor is his birthright. He doesn’t love the architecture or the eccentric layout. He hates the furniture. He’s never really enjoyed anything about the place. It’s the polar opposite of his own house, but it was his in a way, part of his status, part of his baseline of existence. He’s not prepared for any other eventuality. Ransom built his life on a perfectly stable bridge that some idiot just blew up with C4.

No, no, not some idiot. His own family. The only member of his family he would think could never do this to him. Fuck Harlan.

Ran’s been flying high on a lie, and the magic money carpet’s been ripped away.

He has one lifeline, one option he’s grasping onto.

If he can manage this, nothing will change. He won’t lose the allowance. He won’t lose you. You’ll never know how unworthy he is. He can just have everything and never speak of this again.

Harlan. Marta. Inheritance. Killing two birds with one liquid stone.

Ran could do it. He will do it, but you cannot know. He can’t have you around. He has to push, to start giving you a safe distance, to leave you plausible deniability. If you suspect, you’ll leave him anyway.

If he succeeds, worst case? He’s rich and alone. If he does nothing? He’ll be poor and alone.

One of those scenarios used to be acceptable, but not now, not anymore.

Pushing you away tonight might be the last time you ever look at him without pity, and he’s not ready for how heavy that sits in his roiling gut. He has to though. He has to make you leave, if only for the rest of the night—but it might be forever, his brain reminds him. Fucker. It’s not like Ran’s pleasant to be around. Getting away from him shouldn’t be a hard sell.

When you emerge from the house, however, what he hoped would sound sharp and dismissive sounds oddly open-ended.

“You could just walk from here,” he tries wishfully.

True to form, beautiful, pissed-off you sidesteps his expectations.

You take his coat, your coat, and the Birkin to the passenger’s side with a ferocious look.

“Get in the car,” you manage through tight lips.

Fuck. He misses you already. He hasn’t given up. He won’t, but his center of gravity is gone. He’s reeling from this.

Hugh Ransom Drysdale revolves around money.

His whole life he has stretched wide and greedy limbs to capture numbered, green rays of meaning. He hasn’t only lost the light of his sun now. No. Nuclear winter has just stripped him bare and knocked him on his ass. Ran cannot articulate all the reasons he’s so upset.

He values you and him together for relatively selfish reasons. From all he’s seen, you don’t need any more people in your life that exist so far below you. You don’t need ‘help.’ You need an equal, a free and independent equal. Ran isn’t even fucking close anymore.

With a stroke of a pen, he’s now dependent. It’s pathetic. If he stays without even the means to be your not-quite-equal, then he’s everything he hates. He’ll be clingy. He’ll be needy. He’ll be in the way. He’ll finally do it; he will annoy you.

He will bore you.

What a fucking world.

You snap him out of his dashboard stare.

“Do you want to talk about it now or at home?”

“Neither,” he quips easily. “I’ll drop you at the Carlyle’s.”

His eye twitches at his faux pas. You don’t have to correct him. He knows it’s your place, your name, your property, and your right to claim. He doesn’t need reminding.

His key twists in the ignition just as your hand comes up to his shoulder.

He can’t even glare at you properly because a tap rings off his window pane. Both of you jump in alarm because night fell hours ago. Who sneaks up on a car in the fucking dark?

Ran’s father is fucking who. Of course. The window peels down, and Ransom feels as if the last seconds of his life are draining away after the plug’s been pulled.

“Trouble in paradise, you two?” Dick asks with cheeky concern.

“No, Mister Drysdale,” you say politely, no hint of insincerity in your smile.

“Richard, please, honey. You’re practically family.”

Smug asshole, do NOT call her ‘honey.’

“Eat shit,” Ransom mutters overly loud again, but your sudden slow grip on his kneecap tells him to behave. Ol’ Dick has no right to call you ‘honey’ though. Ran’s not even sure what he’s allowed to call you, and he’s pissed, sure. He’s…something else, too; he’s obedient beneath your hand.

Richard ignores Ran’s attitude. “Listen, son, I just wanted you to know that whatever happens, your mother and I will always love you. In case…ya know, in case you ever doubted, and…well, we’re family. We stick together.” He even gives Ran a squeeze on the shoulder for emphasis.

Ransom has no fucking clue what his father intends with that entirely useless statement but doesn’t fucking care. “You know what?” He’s about to lunge out the window to choke that fucking prick. “Definitely eat shit.”

Your grip tightens, and Ran’s insides clench, knowing he toes a line.

“We should really go,” you add with a now painful, strained civility.

“Okay, you crazy kids,” Richard pats his heavy hand on the door frame. “Thanks for coming to the party and we’ll see you soon, yeah?”

“Of course, Richard.”

Ransom rolls the window back up without looking at you. That sure as shit was not his father’s reaction to Harlan throwing millions at Marta fucking Candelabra. He can’t be near these people anymore, so Ran slams his foot on the gas, peeling out of the driveway, and scattering gravel in his wake.

Your sigh releases with the pressure on his knee. “I suspect it’s about his affair.”

As if that narrows it down. “Which one?”

“The first one as far as your grandpa knows,” you snort, “which hopefully Linda buys too from the way you’ve talked about it. Jesus, really? Slow down!”

Ran doesn’t want to slow down. The car is finally catching up to his racing thoughts and a plan coalescing. If Harlan knows about Richard’s affair, then his mother will absolutely divorce him, leaving Dick with nothing—and if you know that Harlan knows about it then—

“Hugh—” the hand has slid from his knee to his crotch, the heel of your palm gently digging into the stiff fabric of his jeans “—we should have taken care of you before…”

Fuck, that feels good.

You’re right, of course. Ran really should have planned a few minutes of privacy for you both to get off after the airport. Not that it’d have to be private for him (parking lot, terminal, or tarmac—he wouldn’t fucking care), but the thought flashes in his mind like the bright spots behind his eyelids that he might not get to fuck you again. That’s profoundly upsetting, and your grip on the outline of his swelling cock is profoundly distracting.

He swats at your arm, blood rushing to his tension-white knuckles only for a second, but you simply swivel in the seat to change hands, dragging down his zipper.

“Sweetheart“ slips out. Is he allowed to say that anymore? He should still act normal, right? Except he’s been a raging mess for a quarter-hour already and oh fuck. “What are you…”

Ran’s been wrong this whole time: you are a road head bitch.

He’s so taken aback by your spit-slicked lips cooly brushing the head of him that he nearly elbows your spine. The car swerves slightly as he strains to collect himself, to think of just one other thing instead of your fucking tongue sliding down his length to tease at his still-covered balls and—

Mother of fucking mercy, he has to pull over.

Only by some miracle, some blessed (or horrible) gap in his distraction, is he able to consciously choose parking off the lane just beyond the menagerie elephant statue because, otherwise, that pervy-ass groundskeeper could relive his long-forgotten past of grainy porn. Because that’s what this is turning into. Pornographic is the only way to describe the choked grunt Ran finally lets out as he slams on the brake and you snap the car into park just to get the gear shift out of your way.

“I’m only here three days,” you say around a mouthful of cock, bobbing a few more times before switching to your hand. “I’m not letting you ruin it by being fucking baby.”

“I’m not—fuck—“ he’s not expecting you to climb over him in the cramped car “—you don’t understand.”

“So you don’t want me right now?”

He shakes his head furiously, half in hope of collecting genuine thought, half in desperation for you to continue.

Space is so limited between Ran’s body and the steering column that your bent knees pin his arms to the door and the console. It should hurt but fuck if he’s gonna say anything while he watches you peel your panties to the side and line yourself up.

“Gah, you just—“ he pants as his heart rate spikes. Instead of putting him in you, Ran’s paralyzed to stop two of your fingers from sinking into your soaked pussy. You’re drooling for him, mouth and cunt, and goddamn, he is so torn between pounding you into next week or tossing you out of the car to get on with his plan.

It’s about an 80/20 split in favor of fucking you.

And then he thinks…yeah, he could definitely get off and get you to the Carlyle’s—your place—in time to sneak back. So he just lets go, shoving his face forward to capture your lips, enjoying the wet sounds as you prep for him, and eating up your moans and curses. He knows you’re purposefully dragging your knuckles against his dick as you bring them out with each stroke. Why are you so fucking hot? Why can’t he just have this without Harlan’s help?

He’s dependent.

Ran realizes he always was, but he fucking hates it.

Removing your fingers makes the bunched-up dress pool over your hips and graze his raging erection. Great, now your spit and his precum are smeared all over your clothes. Normally, that wouldn’t bother him. Normally, that would be even hotter. Now, Ran wonders how much that damn thing costs because he never even looked; he just knew it suited you.

A steady grip at his base and suddenly Ran can’t wonder about any fucking thing under the sun. Your walls welcome him inch by inch like he’s goddamn worthy of that silky squeeze, but he can’t say shit. All he can manage is craning his neck forward to mouth over your nearest breast, arms still pinned. Fuck it. More fluids on the dress. If you don’t care, he doesn’t care. Maybe. Maybe he’ll just care later. Maybe he’ll learn to look at the cost of things. Maybe he won’t have to when he succeeds at fixing this dumpster fire of a situation.

His teeth graze against a barely felt but hard-peaked nipple, and you gasp out another moan. You have to shift to wedge your leg down by his side and repeat with the other one. One of his forearms is tingling, asleep, so he switches his mouth around and uses the functioning arm to play.

You’re moving so slow, too slow.

“You fucking love to mess with me,” Ran growls, all but biting through the layers before yanking at the neckline, savoring the plush skin he exposes. “Love fucking me,” he mutters again.

“Yeah, baby, why do you think that is?” You use the name so condescendingly and roll your hips so deliberately that Ransom bites back a ‘fuck you,’ instead forcing out a strangled whine. You just drag yourself up and down until he answers, pushing his t-shirt and an errant tail of his cardigan out of the way. Your fingers gently scratch the flat plain of his abs.

“Say it.”

He knows the answer. He’s known for a while, but that’s not something Ran’s ever gonna be ready for. It’s just already the truth.

It’s as soft as a hum against your skin.

“Say it, Hugh. Tell me why.”

He can tell by how you’re getting sloppier with your movement, by how hard you grind forward against him, that you’re close.

“Because you love me.” Ran winces at how desperate he sounds. It’s almost a cry, but he can’t really resist repeating it. “You love me.”

Your hands bury in his hair, and he’s literally covered in you while trapped in this fucking steam room of a car. He can’t control anything he’s doing.

“You love me,” he says again.

“Yes.”

“You love me.”

“Fuck, yes, baby.”

You’re fluttering around his cock like a dream, shouting encouragement, and it just slips out.

“I love you.”

He has no idea if you even hear him because you come so hard that your back bends, slamming you against the steering wheel.

The horn blares in the quiet woods.

You wait for him to yank you forward and erupt into sated giggles while Ran is a whole different kind of paralyzed, hiding his face in your chest for as long as you’re simmering without care.

Your fingers card through sweaty hair, your heartbeat slowing more than his does.

“Think you need this,” you say in a breathy whisper. You pull away to cradle his face.

He’s terrified you’re gonna ask. You’re gonna want him to say it again, he thinks, and Ran’s not sure he can with your eyes boring into his, knowing what he knows, being what he is until the will is void.

“I want you to come, Hugh.” Your thumb traces across his bottom lip, gaze following before it flickers back up.

You sound so fucking innocent while your slick is smeared all over his low belly and seeping through his underwear. His boxers are kinda in the way but kinda immovable while in such cramped quarters. Pushed aside, they hinder only as much as your bunched-up panties do. Easy enough to live with.

You keep staring expectantly.

“Do you want me to stop—“ fuck NO “—or will you give me what I want?”

Ran’s whole chest clenches, and it’s only because he slams his mouth to yours that you can’t see his eyes roll in fucking ecstasy. Perfect. You’re goddamn perfect. He couldn’t deny you anything much less this, and he knows that if this is the last time, he has to take advantage.

Sliding down slightly on the seat (because everything operates in centimeters at most this close), he takes two giant handfuls of your ass and spreads you, lifting so he can thrust his hips up at a brutal pace. He doesn’t fucking care if his knees bang against unyielding metal. He doesn’t care that a vein in his neck might snap from strain. He just needs this one thing, and then he’ll let it go. He’ll be ready for whatever outcome Harlan’s death triggers.

Because Ransom needs money. He had money long before he had you. It’s what he needs the most in life. He loves money.

If losing you is what it takes to keep the money…

That’s the thought he can’t finish as control of the urge to come slips from his bruising fingers. His desire for his status quo is faltering. His equilibrium’s changed.

He does love money. He does.

Now, to Ran's surprise, he loves you, and he has no fucking clue how to love both. He doesn’t know if he can keep both.

But friction is friction. He’s surrounded by the feel and sound and smell of sex. It’s familiar and more than a little haunting to him if this is the last time, but Ran crests that mountain before any coherent thoughts form. He can’t trust himself to speak. He might repeat what he never should have said aloud.

The groan when he empties himself inside you is almost pained, swallowed immediately by your adoring and hungry kiss. He’s sweat straight through his t-shirt and his jeans are a fucking mess. Your dress is damp, stained, and wrinkled. You’re practically bonded to the leather seat, but he just absently runs the back of his fingers up and down your thighs while he comes down.

When you release his mouth, your arms settle across his shoulders, and he buries his face in your chest again, hiding, relishing, stalling.

Shit, he’s gonna miss this.

After a minute, you rest your forehead against his and lift your hips until his limp dick slides out of you. Through half-closed eyes Ran watches you bite your bottom lip, gnaw on it like he wants to, like he moves to—

“Is this about the will?”

Ran freezes.

“Did—Harlan told you, didn’t he?”

“WHAT THE SHIT.” Ran’s rage explodes, heaving you off of him and into the passenger’s seat. “YOU FUCKING KNEW?!”

He shoves himself back in his pants and scrambles for the damn zipper.

“Ransom, it’s fine. He just—“

“Why the fuck wouldn’t you warn me? Jesus FUCK.” He’s unlatched and kicked the door open before you even get a word out.

“Harlan is my friend and—“

But he slams it shut, leaving your words muffled while Ran fumes in damp fucking clothes in the frigid air.

His fists almost—almost—pound on the hood of his car as he bites out, “I could have killed him.”

Ran’s pacing toward the tree line when you finally shuffle from the beamer, pulling your dress back into place.

“Harlan’s my friend and he asked me in confidence if it made sense.”

“I’m sorry, he asked you? As in, my grandfather might not have done this if you hadn’t thrown me under the bus.”

“It wasn’t just about you.”

“It makes sense to leave me destitute? And you knew! You lying bitch,” he growls, immediately wishing the word hadn’t popped out, clawing at his scalp in a punishing attempt to think. “You watched me throw all that fucking money away and didn’t think I deserved to know?!“

“I’ve met you. Why would you listen to me about how to spend your money? That isn’t something you do, Ransom.”

“That’s not the point!” And stop calling me fucking ‘Ransom.’ “I can handle myself.”

“Then I guess your answer is ‘that’s how you spent the money,’ by choice.”

“I wasn’t given a choice. You lied to me. You’re the one who didn’t trust me.”

Your stalk forward in the dry leaves, stopping just outside of arm’s length away. “What the hell did I just say in there, huh? I love you. I said I love you, then you go and call me a bitch, so who’s the liar between us, huh? Who’s got trust issues?”

Ran’s face scrunches in distain. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Guess,” you spit back easily.

Well, he isn’t fucking saying it now. Fuck you. Fuck this. This is the worst-case scenario: poor and alone because if you know, he can never get away with his plan.

“Why do you always do that?” he growls with a venom that poisons no one but himself. “Why the fuck are you here then?” Why are you with him?

“I’m here to support my piece of shit boyfriend at a piece of shit family event because Hugh asked me to.”

Nope. The right name is wrong. It sounds much worse than he expected.

Ran doesn’t know what to do with all this sick energy churning in his gut except burn through it. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands. He doesn’t know what to do with his life.

“There it is. There’s the truth,” he yells, leaning into your face. “I know it. You know it. This isn’t going to work. We’re not the fucking same. We’re not even close—“

“I don’t want someone the same as me.”

“I’m a useless—”

“Ran.” Your hands fly to gently land on his face.

“—talentless—“

“Seriously, please.”

“—sack of shit and you—“

“HUGH!” The grip at his jaw slips as he jerks back.

Ran tenses, shoving his chilled fingers into his jean pockets, pushing the wet material in front away from his crotch. He goes awkwardly quiet.

Yelling. He remembers the yelling. He’s been comfortable with yelling for longer than he’s been comfortable with affection.

“For fuck’s sake, just shut up.” You cross your arms over you chest and shiver. “This. This bullshit is why I didn’t tell you, but so what? You don’t have your own money. How do you think Harlan and I started out?”

He gives a look that shouts back everything he can’t put into words.

“You’re not useless or talentless. You’re entitled. That’s all, and you can change that state of being pretty fucking easily.”

“How? What am I supposed to do? Be a houseboy who eats you out once a week?”

“A week? Well, I hope I pay better than that.”

“Oh, what the fuck,” he grouches.

You giggle. You fucking giggle at that. “You started these jokes!”

“You don’t have to rub it in—”

“—just rub it out, huh?”

He doesn’t want to laugh. It’s not funny. His fate isn’t a laughing matter, but like everything else tonight, he fucking fails. A smile twitches at his lips.

“Ok, asshole, you want to be useful? How ‘bout driving us home? I’m freezing.”

He starts to protest but is cut off by a flinging arm.

“If you don’t get in this damn car, you will be helping me balance to pee in those woods.”

“Fucking gross,” Ran whines.

“Yeah, well, your ability to self-access is appalling too,” you jovially clap back, “but we’re working with what we’ve got.”

Fair.

Savage but fair.

He frowns and follows you into the car.

You talk his ear off on the way to his house, but he isn’t in the least bit annoyed. He’s engrossed. It’s all a type of flattery Ransom can hardly fathom: honest praise.

“I was miserably alone before you.”

He wouldn’t have pegged that based on how he saw you at all those events, but now that he considers how you’ve opened up about your frustrations and the exhaustion of being the center of attention, it makes sense. Ransom takes attention away from you. He loves that shit. He doesn’t even care if it’s negative attention. Hide behind his broad back and shine that spotlight on him; he’s game.

“You know what people you pay to be around you—people who want something from you don’t do? Argue. No one has a real conversation. No one has an opinion contradictory to yours. No one calls you out on your shit. It’s so…”

“Boring,” he whispers without thinking.

There’s a long pause until you continue softly.

“No one calls me out on my shit except you, only you.“

Your hand finds his. Though your skin is cold, he’s warmed by the touch.

“So no, I don’t think my money will change anything. If money—mine or yours—were going to change you, it would have done it by now. I mean, sure, you could stand to be less of a dick sometimes, but you don’t have to. I already…”

Your voice trails off, and Ran knows. That’s just it. You love him and he’s a dick, the poor asshole who understands what the feeling is, the one who can’t say it, not on purpose, not yet. The tectonic shift in his life’s framework leaves him uneasy. As wonderful as you are, as perfect as this has been, he has to start over.

He has to build himself up from scratch. He’s been transplanted to an alien planet that he doesn’t have the means to make hospitable. Money was his means to everything. Money provided for him. Money protected him. Money separated him from others.

He never had space for two in his now-demolished castle of selfishness.

“I thought I’d be with someone so different from you,” you laugh without heart. “I’m…glad I was wrong.”

All he can manage is a squeeze of your hand.

“But Hugh, you’re proud of my success, not fucking threatened by it. You let me work, but you also know when I need a break and won’t take one. You’re devoted without being smothering because you have your own damn life, things you want to do. You aren’t intimidated by all this shit in my stupid world or the money. You don’t give a fuck what other people say.”

That’s true.

“You make me laugh,” you say quietly, and though he can’t see your face in the dark of the road leading to his neighborhood, he hears your smile. “You asshole.”

As he turns into the driveway, he glances over and winks. “I try my best, sweetheart.”

He watches that throwaway statement melt you, and then he realizes why.

Ransom trying to do absolutely fucking anything is a big fucking deal, and he has tried. He simply has no idea where to go from here.

He turns off the beamer and makes no move to get out.

“What am I supposed to do?”

Your hand releases his to glide up his arm and lace through his hair, lightly rubbing the base of his neck. “Help me,” you breathe.

“How the fuck would I help you?”

“Hugh,” you cock your head to the side, retracting both arms to brush your palms down the fabric of your (ruined) skirt, “you know damn well you’d like to control my whole wardrobe. You would do far better dressing me for all those functions than I do…and undressing me.”

He knows what you’re doing, but instead of smiling or laughing, he tightens his jaw and huffs. “Can I burn some of your—“ he does half air-quotes “—'wardrobe?'”

It’s so hideous. That one black dress you keep fucking wearing? No amount of dry cleaning will make that look new again. That’s getting flambéed.

You purse your lips. “Donate, but yes. I would consider that a huge help.”

“You’re serious.” Ran’s not sure whether he means it as a question or a statement.

“Yes. I am. Thank you for noticing.” You swivel to open the door. “Now, you can also help get my bag in while I use the restroom.”

The dance of readying for bed becomes you pointing out things you have now that you did not have before him. Taste being one of them, Ran thinks to himself. The important thing is he could say that to your face, but he’s strategically not pushing his luck tonight.

It’s true. Nearly every article of clothing and every toiletry now links back to his insistence that you have nice things that are for you, not just for life in general. You come before the rest of the world; you come before your work. That’s his gift. That’s what he’s good at, and you make it clear: you need him for that talent.

All of these nice things, all these reasons he seems good to you, and all this need for him have Ran feeling some sorta way when you crawl into his bed naked and reach to turn off the light.

He grabs your hand before you make it to the switch, forcing it back to the mattress, keeping you facedown. His heated breath and heavy body roll over you, teeth grazing your shoulder and moving slowly to your earlobe.

“You know what else I’m good for?”

His free hand slips between your thighs and finds what slick you couldn’t clean up. The knowledge that some of it is his cum still inside you makes Ran shudder. How would he ever have lived without this?

You sigh, your mouth falling open at the intrusion, and your eyelids flutter closed.

“Fuck,” you moan, high and quiet.

“That’s right, baby,” he hisses, mimicking your condescension from the car. Oh yeah, he’s gonna ruin more than that goddamn dress tonight.

He takes time to torture you with his fingers, his weight rendering you immobile. Ran sweeps falling hair out of your face with free reign to pepper open-mouthed kisses across the stretch of skin he’s claimed since that very first fuck.

You always knew what you wanted. He never thought you’d truly want him, certainly not for more than a day. After tonight, it’s inconceivable you want him still, yet here you are, burying your face in the sheets to muffle little cries as he humps your ass cheek to get harder and harder.

Good god, why do you want him? He fucked around, he yelled at you, he called you horrible names, he left you for weeks at a time in a foreign country alone, and yet you are here.

Then your words spring to mind. He argues with you. He has opinions. He makes you laugh. He treats you like the independent person you are. He treats you like your money doesn’t matter.

Because it didn’t to him.

Ransom realizes now that you treat him as if his money didn’t matter because it doesn’t to you. Nothing changed when you knew he wouldn’t have it anymore. Not a single thing. Somewhere over the last months, Harlan told you his plan, and the only perceptible difference to Ran was you falling in love with him.

Because you love him. He is so grateful he’s almost angry. You could do better. He can give you better.

By the time you come on Ran’s fingers, he’s completely feral thinking about all those little ways you showed your feelings, all the ways you showed him kind touch is not weakness. You also showed him that touch doesn’t have to be weak to be kind. He can be rough with his feelings for you, intense as they are. He can sink his cock into you, practically screaming that he loves you, too, but the words aren’t spoken.

He presses a thick forearm across your back to keep you pinned. He spreads his legs to widen yours. He thrusts in possessive and messy movements. No words escape. His range of motion is limited this way, but he gets all of your glorious noises. They’ve become his favorite sleep track. It’s hard for him to rest without hearing your happy, panicked pleasure beforehand.

You make desperate fists in the sheets and arch your ass up higher. He sees the unnatural strain in your body, all for him, all so he can have just that fucking tiny bit more of you.

He can’t stay in this position forever though. You’ll never come again like this, and he wants to see your face. The car was dark, but the lamp is still on. He can watch you fall apart with him deep inside.

“Turn,” he orders, enjoying how dazed and shaky you are as you struggle to control your muscles.

You’re a sight. Erratic breaths hardly settle your gasps. Pliable and ruined. Torn to whimpering pieces and stitched back together only to be split apart again.

He drinks in his handiwork, climbing slowly between your legs, delicately helping to cross your heels at his ass, and sinking back into your heat slowly, so slowly, like your teasing in the car.

“Hugh,” you mutter, and fuck, he has never heard you beg.

Ransom has always loved sex, but this is different. He meets your glazed eyes with floundering blue depths and wonders why he can’t just enjoy it as basic sex anymore.

He’s always loved money, too, and although he doesn’t want to take it from you, Ran feels the weight of your charity. Money was his sun, his whole world, but it was not enough. You provide more, warmth that lets him spread out in contentment, light that keeps him from withering.

Money doesn’t need his love; it’s indifferent.

You, on the other hand, you are fucking radiant, glowing and hot with his arm tucked beneath your shoulders to grab at your hairline. He makes you look at him. Your fingernails scratch at his back while your hips grind together.

“So beautiful,” he rumbles, nose almost touching yours. “Come on, sweetheart—“ Ran drops to lave kisses down your bared throat “—one more for me.”

This time, you have no words, only grunting uh and hng as he speeds up. Your noises get higher. Ran gets rougher, a brutal rhythm for a brutal realization.

He can’t hold back when he sees you like this; he’s gonna say it.

He gets close, so very close to breaking, but you fall first.

“Please—ah.”

You fucking writhe beneath him, your whole body spasming like your silky pussy ripples over the sensitive skin of his cock.

“That’s it,” he coos in your ear. “That’s right. Good girl.”

He has to chance meeting your eyes because he wants to see you unravel again. Ran always does whatever he wants.

He slows his hips to intermittent thrusts that sizzle your nerves over and over, pulling his arm out from under you to lift your chin. You’re open for him in every sense of the word, and he is fucked in every possible way.

He’s an amoeba of a man staring evolution in the face.

You’re his. It’s clear in the light that he owns you. He’s earned you, or at least, he’s trying to. That’s a big deal for Ransom Drysdale.

Quivering, your mouth hanging open, his thumb rolling over your swollen bottom lip, he gets one word.

“Daddy.”

Barely a whisper, partly a question, but mostly an invitation. He slides his thumb up into your mouth, only letting you suck on it for a moment before it drags out.

Ran never thought you’d ever say that. He never imagined you’d beg either. You’ve always known what you want and taken it. You have never needed anything from him.

“Please,” you say again, holding your mouth wider still.

Shit. He throbs at the prospect, and he’s too far gone to deny you this. He plants one small peck on your jaw before pulling out and clambering over your hips and chest.

“Ah fuck,” he moans when you suck on one of his balls, stroking him with a smooth and firm grip. “Love y—love your mouth…so much.”

Ran leans against his headboard, hand clamped over his trap in a desperate attempt not to blabber, but you continue. You’re in tune with when he’s ready, when you’ve taken the teasing far enough and he needs to come. His hips stutter to shove himself just a little farther down your throat. He collects his wits only enough not to choke you, muffling a cry.

You’re gentle with him as he loses his absolute shit trying to keep it together, thighs shaking, breath hindered, biting the fuck out of his hand.

“Sorry, I…” he tries.

“I…I—“ he tries again.

He just can’t fucking do it.

Ran digs his palms so hard into his eyes he sees stars. His chest is tight like it’ll explode any second. The relief of orgasm has evaporated instantly, and he just really fucking can’t.

“Hey, hey,” you soothe, shifting up onto your kneels behind him, “it’s okay.” Your warm arms encircle his chest, over one shoulder and under the other, and you pull his own pliable and ruined body toward you.

He collapses back on his heels, leaning against you.

“Hugh, it’s alright.” Your whisper makes his eyes sting. “I know.”

Ran raises his arms to hold your wrists. His head drops to kiss the back of your hand. He still stays silent.

“I know…”

Your bare legs stretch across his lap, and Ransom lets the hand warmed by his mug grasp your ankle gently. You’re off in your own mind, staring out the window of his living room, worrying your bottom lip. He watches while you don’t notice.

Ran never particularly liked the unknown, and after Harlan’s shit last night, he’s off surprises for a fucking lifetime. This, however, this with you, sitting in comfortable quiet, makes him feel perfectly at ease with an unsure future.

For someone so fascinating to him, you’re so normal.

Sure, you’re beauty trumps the view outside, you’re dedicated to your work, and you’re smart enough to run circles around anyone, but…

You’re just you, sitting with a hot drink on his couch in the morning, wearing one of his sweaters again. Could be a sixty-dollar sweater from a thrift shop—or six cents for all Ran knows about secondhand sales—or the six-hundred-dollar one that he stoopidly bought three weeks ago; it doesn’t matter to you. The only thing that matters to him now is who wears it. That garment means nothing without you in it.

You sip at your tea, and he follows, staring at you staring at the world.

You two spoke more about it last night in the dark about everything but that one little phrase that’s eating him alive, a tangled mess of yourselves and the sheets. Nothing has to change except where the money comes from. Ran gets what he’s wanted all along: control over your wardrobe and, essentially, your entire presentation to that world you’re staring out into. He is not, however, permitted to burn your favorite Little Black Dress, but for fuck’s sake he’ll get all of its seams checked and the damn thing refitted. He’s hoping if he makes enough fuss, you’ll choose to toss it just to shut him up.

Fucking rules. Ran hates rules. If you kept standards on par with your New Money maybe he’d follow your rules. He’ll get you in the good stuff: the good house with good furniture, the good clothing with good lingerie beneath, right down to the good wash and lotion.

You can keep your perfume. He likes your perfume.

Yes, he’ll get you into what he wants, when he wants, where he wants, and all that implies. Ransom always gets what he wants…because you let him.

It’s remarkable what you let him fucking do, too.

He slides his hand from your ankle to your knee, knocking you out of your reverie just in time for his phone to buzz.

He holds your legs to him while sneaking a glance at the screen. Linda. Fuck no, he’s not answering that. It’s not Sunday and he’s not ditching anything. Fucking wait. Fucking choke for all he cares.

Ran instead sets his nearly empty mug down beside your two phones on the coffee table and curls up in your corner of couch. You open your arms to tuck him into your chest, and sure, it’s cutesy and gross in a way that should make Ran want to gag, but who fucking cares when he’s this comfortable. He plants a kiss right on your nipple through the knit for fun, feeling you shiver, then listens to your heart.

His phone vibrates again, dancing closer to the stoneware he just put down.

His mother’s persistence is as admirable as it is annoying. Predictably, Ran’s bored by her usual shit and ignores it again.

Instead of pushing up his sweater to wrap an arm around your waist though, he shoves his now chilly fingers between your hot thighs and sighs. His ear rings with the airy sound of your laugh through flesh.

Then your phone dings, and he just fucking knows it’s her. His groaned protest goes unheeded as you swap your mug for the device and bring it to you.

Ran snorts, and you smooth your free hand over his hair.

“Hello—“ there are harsh but restrained mumbles but he can’t make out the words “—Linda, why on Earth would I be with a man the night he yelled at me like that?”

Because you love him, Ran thinks, but he hears garbled disappointment from the other end.

“And after how your brother and his wife acted—” more rushed excuses “—I don’t have time to go around looking for your adult baby. I have work to do and a plane to catch.” There’s obvious desperation in Linda’s tone, but you don’t care. “Goodbye.”

You let your phone drop to the rug, carding fingers through his hair before finishing with little scratches. Your nonchalance is still pure honesty. You wouldn’t waste time on him, not if you didn’t want him, and you did not let him speak to you that way for more than three sentences because you knew exactly how to shut him up.

“Vicious little bitch,” you mutter.

And…in all your perfect, honest, niceness, you called his mother a bitch—not to her face but you’ll get there, Ran’s sure.

He fucking loves you. He is really so fucking in love with you that it’s fucking gross. He’s disgusted and doesn’t fucking care.

After a big sigh, your hand finds his between your legs and moves it to cup your sex. “Where were we?”

Ransom shifts up over you at the same time as you slide beneath him on the buttery leather cushions. His wildly true and blue eyes meet yours with stern sincerity.

He’s looking at everything he ever wanted, and it’s not money. There are all sorts of things he can use to survive, loads of things he can replace, an infinite amount to take, but only one you, only one complete package. Not a thing. Not replaceable. Finite. Earned. New. Fascinating. Teasing. Messy. Sexy. A total hardass badass with a great ass.

Ran lays his hand heavier on that thin layer of silk, possession laced in the caress, and the words just flow right out.

“Marry me.”

@supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555

Oh my god, gang, I can't believe I fucking did it. Truly, this fic has been one of the craziest things I've ever attempted, and honestly, I'm so damn proud. I'm proud that I wrote it, I'm proud that it's over, and I'm proud of whatever reception it gets. I murdered my soul for this and am delighted. Thank you all so much for reading!

[Main Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

#hugh ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale fanfiction #the root of all ransom #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale smut #ransom smut #ransom x reader #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale angst #ransom drysdale fic #ransom drysdale fluff

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thebelladonnaofbuffoonery · 6 months

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❀ BANDAGES ❀

i HATE reading angst but oh lord do i LOVE writing it -especially for dazai.

CONTENT: one shot, dazai x reader, 902 words, hurt-comfort, canon relevant self harm, insecurity about said sh, real men cry, slightly ooc

you’d never spent much time wondering what dazai looked like without his bandages. admittedly, earlier on in your acquaintanceship, you had thought about it but quickly felt ashamed at how intrigued you were about something so personal to him -about someone you barely knew.

though you didn’t “barely know” him anymore, your intrigue had not resurfaced, but a desire for him to understand that you still cared about him grew daily. he shied away from your touch if the bandages were loose, had anyone but you dress his wounds after a fight, ran you countless baths but always sat on the cold hard floor beside it… you were starting to worry he might never trust you enough to relax completely around you.

“dazai,” you asked softly, one day as you’re laying against his chest while he’s tracing your palm.

“hm?”

“you know you can trust me, right?”

he chuckled and nuzzled his face into your neck, “why, i trust you with my life, my darling! honestly, i’m offended you need reassurance.”

you smiled, a warmth growing in your chest, “it’s just, i want you to know… well i feel like you don’t, sometimes. not with everything.”

he sighed, his patterns on your skin slowing to a halt, “is this about my bandages?”

“well, yes, but i don’t want you to think i’m saying this because i need you to take them off in front of me–”

“no, i understand that,” he said, returning to drawing in your palm with his slender finger. “in truth, i am a horrid beast underneath it all, i might turn you to stone if you saw my true form.”

you huffed, but couldn’t fight the smile he brought to your face, “dazai.”

“no it’s true!” he insisted.

“nothing about you could be so horrid,” you reasoned.

“you’d be surprised.”

it fell into a comfortable silence once more between you before you finally suggested what you’d been yearning to ask for months.

“let’s have a shower.”

“...together?”

“yeah.”

“i didn’t know my mere presence turned you on that much.”

“not like that,” you clarified, rolling your eyes at his playful nature, “just… come on.”

and he let you. he let you get off of him and pull him to stand, your gentle force guiding him to the bathroom.

“you don’t have to do this, if you really don’t want to,” you said, meeting his eyes as you shily took off your shirt. they softened under your gaze. he brought his large hand to the back of your head and pushed your forehead to his lips.

“i must warn you,” he said, drawing back and beginning to unbutton his shirt, “i’m a ghastly looking bastard.”

you merely rolled your eyes and helped him finish unbuttoning, meeting him halfway and allowing the garment to fall away. his bandages ran from his palms all the way to his chest and up his neck, held together at various points by elastic clips.

you took a step back, allowing him to undress them himself, one by one placing the little metal hooks on the bench and loosening the bandages.

he met your eyes only once, a shaky glace before the white fabric began to slip away.

underneath it all was nothing you hadn’t already expected; various types of burns, cut scars and marred skin. the amount of damage littered across his skin did surprise you a little, knowing dazai as someone without a tolerance for pain.

“hideous i know. most are from a time where i cared little for my comfort,” he said softly. you didn’t know how to respond, what else could be said that was not either glaringly obvious or out of touch at best? instead, you just continued to undress, taking garment after garment which soon dazai followed with.

wordlessly, you turned on the water and gently pulled him in with you until your back was pressed against the tiles and you could see him, all of him, in front of you.

“you’re handsome, dazai,” you told him softly, letting go of one of his hands to push his dampening hair from his eyes.

“i know,” he said deflective with his charming smile.

“you’re handsome,” you repeated.

“i know,” he said again.

“all of you,” you said.

he looked down at you, watching your eyes rake over him and sighed. he leaned into your touch, arching to rest his head on top of yours as your hands made their way up his back, fingers gently dragging over his damp skin.

you turned your cheek to place delicate little kisses over whatever skin you could in your position, his chest, his collarbone, his neck… painting his skin in a layer of affection. his hands squeezed your shoulders tighter and his body shuddered as you continued to place kisses against him, until finally he relaxed under your touch, and his arms dropped to wrap around your waist, pulling you flush against him.

his body shuddered again and you realised, much to your dismay, he was crying. you tried to pull back but he just clung to you tighter. so instead of questioning it, you welcomed his hold, your hands continuing their motion across his back, running over his skin in soothing movements as he silently cried into you. the two of you stood in each other's arms for what felt like forever until dazai muttered in a deep, quiet voice,

“thank you.”

a/n: i was so worried this would turn saviour-complexy so i really hope it didn’t come off that way. i just tried to think about how i would respond if someone did what the reader did, hopefully that was sensitive enough.

#bungo stray dogs #dazai x reader #bsd dazai #dazai x you #dazai x y/n

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thecursedhellblazer · 8 months

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HEADCANONS INBOX CALL !

Give this post a LIKE and I'll show up in your askbox with a couple of HC / development questions for your muse(s)!

Multimuse please specify !

#(( true seeing stone ::ooc:: ))#inbox call

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omgrachwrites · 6 months

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A Girl in The Valley - Sirius Black

Pairing: Sirius Black x Reader

Summary: You are called to the enormous house on the hill to tutor the Lord’s son who longs to see his father. It’s there that you soften the Lord’s heart of stone.

Warnings: fluff, angst, mentions of death, slow burn, ooc Sirius,

A/N: I loved writing this so much! I hope you guys enjoy and please let me know what you think! Let me know if you would like to be tagged! I love you all! xxx

masterlist

The mist was settling in around the carriage as it trundled up the bumpy country lane and you sighed as you stared out onto the rolling hills and you tightened your arms around your sleeping daughter, Emily. You didn’t want to be here, you didn’t want to be in this carriage or on the way to the house on the hill, it was amazing how far from the village it was.

Your mother had told you to stop being so ungrateful and that you couldn’t have wished for a better post. You glanced at the Housekeeper McGonagall who sat opposite you. You thought that you’d better learn a little about the boy you would be tutoring along with your daughter.

“What can you tell me about the boy?”

McGonagall merely shrugged as she looked up at you through her spectacles, “there’s nothing much to tell, he’s a smart boy, an inquisitive boy. You’ll certainly have your work cut out for you,” she almost smiled.

You nodded, it wasn’t what you wanted to hear, “and his father?”

“Oh, you needn’t worry about him, Miss Y/L/N, you’ll hardly see him. He spends most of his time in France. He’s there now as a matter of fact and he won’t be coming back until Friday.”

But you wanted to know, you wanted to know if the rumours about him were true, that he was a grizzled old hunchback with a heart of stone. When McGonagall realised that you weren’t going to let this go, she sighed and glanced out the window, clearly trying to buy more time.

“He’s a tortured man, married his childhood sweetheart only for her to die in child birth. I didn’t think much of her,” she spoke hesitantly as if she didn’t like to speak ill of the dead, “but he loved her.”

You nodded as you pulled your coat tighter around your shoulders, it was clear that you weren’t going to get anything else out of her. But you still wondered about that little boy and why his father wouldn’t send him to the prestigious boarding school up in the Scottish Highlands.

The winter mist was swirling so low that it was almost like a blanket of clouds. You could barely see anything in front of you, not that you particularly wanted to, you guessed it would be more of the dreary countryside. You were looking forward to a nice long sleep when you got back to the house, you’d been travelling for half a day now and you still had hours to go, you wouldn’t reach the house until nightfall. Sirius Black really did live in the middle of nowhere.

After a couple more hours, McGonagall let out a satisfied noise, “we’re finally here, look.”

Your eyes followed where she was pointing and an enormous grand house came into view. If you weren’t here for the foreseeable future, you would have thought it was beautiful. Snow covered ivy crept up one side of the house and as the carriage came around the bend, you could almost see how far the grounds stretched.

You remembered the letter that McGonagall had sent when she wrote to tell you that your application had been accepted. Sirius Black would let you go where you wanted on the estate if you would only tutor his son. Though, you couldn’t feel too happy about your freedom at the moment.

As you woke Emily up you both climbed out of the carriage and you sighed as you stretched your legs and you both followed McGonagall to the front door. However, before she could open the door, the door was pulled open from the inside and there stood a little boy of about ten in round spectacles blinking up at you.

“Are you going to let us in, Harry?” you could hear fondness in McGonagall’s voice as she looked down at the boy.

Harry seemed to think for a moment before he deemed you worthy to be let into the house. As soon as you walked into the Entrance Hall, you heard Emily gasp and your own jaw almost dropped but you controlled yourself. The floors were marble and the staircase was lined with glittering suits of armour. It was exquisite but you couldn’t help but feel the house was cold and empty.

Standing in front of the staircase with a radiant smile there was a beautiful woman and three other men standing behind her. The boy – Harry – was at her side and you could only guess that this woman was his mother.

“Y/N, and Emily,” she smiled, “welcome. I’m Lily, one of Sirius’ friends, this is my son Harry and my husband James,” she gestured to the man behind her who looked like a grown up version of Harry. She nodded at the two other men, “that’s Remus and Regulus, Sirius’ brother,” all three men waved at you and you smiled back.

“I do hope your journey was alright?”

“Yes,” you smiled, finally finding your voice, “it was fine but tiring wasn’t it Emily?” you smiled down at your daughter who merely nodded, she was shy around new people.

Lily smiled, “how about I show you to your room and you can meet Orion before he goes to bed?”

You smiled and nodded as you followed Lily up the stairs, she led you down a long corridor lined with portraits. She opened a door on the left.

“Sirius thought you would both be quite comfortable in this room. He thought you might want to stay together.”

You gaped as you walked in, the room was huge, one wall was lined with a tapestry, and the other had had a bookcase built into it. There were two comfortable looking beds and a fire was roaring in the centre. You smiled at Lily as you put your bags by your bed and Emily gasped as she ran over to the bookcase and picked up a leather bound book.

“It’ll be perfect.”

Lily nodded, “I’ll leave you to get settled, when you’re ready, do come down to the parlour to meet Orion. It’s on the left of the Entrance Hall.”

You thanked her as she walked out, your spirits being lifted considerably as you warmed yourself by the fire. After a couple of moments, you decided that you’d better get downstairs to meet your student.

You glanced at Emily who was sitting at the window seat with her nose in a book already, “do you want to come and meet Orion? He’s your age.”

Emily pulled a face as she shook her head and answered without looking up from her book, “no, I don’t,” with a sigh you nodded and left her to it.

Regulus grinned at you as you walked into the parlour and he ran a hand through his long hair, he was so handsome.

“Orion, come and meet your new teacher, Miss Y/L/N,” he said to the ten-year-old who was sitting at the table drawing.

You smiled at Regulus as you approached Orion and knelt to his level, “it’s nice to meet you, Orion, you can call me Y/N, no need for formalities.”

“I don’t need another new teacher,” the little boy commented, refusing to look at you.

“Orion, don’t be so rude!” Regulus scolded.

Orion looked up at his Uncle with a defiant look on his face, “well, it’s true! I want to go to Hogwarts with Harry next year!”

“Your father doesn’t want you to go to Hogwarts,” Regulus sighed, “go and get ready for bed, I’ll be in to say goodnight in a moment,” without saying another word, Orion left the room and Regulus looked at you apologetically, “he’ll warm up to you.”

Dinner was an unusually quite occasion, you made small talk with the others but you didn’t ask what you really wanted to know. A million questions were flying around your head, personal questions, mostly about the mystery owner of the house. In the village there had always been a rumour going round that he was an ancient grizzled hunchback but you knew that can’t have been the case, not when everyone else looked so young. Nobody in the village had seen Sirius for years so they liked to talk.

After dinner, Lily invited you into the drawing room for a drink but you declined, itching to get into bed. The bed was incredibly soft and it was so warm as you slipped inside, Emily had fallen asleep quickly. Despite, how tired you were, you couldn’t find sleep. Whether it was because of the new surroundings and the excitement of the day or the howling of the wind you didn’t know.

In the end, you decided to go down to the kitchens to make some tea, that always helped you sleep better. As you were bustling around the kitchen you heard a soft voice come from the corner. A voice that frightened the life out of you and you almost dropped the teacup you were holding.

“You must be Y/N.”

“Oh my gosh!” you yelped and turned around to see who had spoken.

He was sitting at the table with a glass of scotch lazily dangling between his fingers. He was so devastatingly handsome that you had no idea where the rumours surrounding him had come from. Though, the frown on his face almost ruined his beauty. Almost.

“I’m so sorry, My Lord,” you gasped.

Sirius waved away your apology, “please, call me Sirius and you have nothing to apologise for,” he regarded you with cold grey eyes that weren’t unkind but you knew that he was waiting for some sort of explanation.

“I couldn’t sleep.”

“Is your bedroom not comfortable?” he raised an eyebrow and you could tell it was a genuine question.

“It’s not that at all!” you said quickly, you didn’t want him to think that you were ungrateful, “my bedroom is beautiful, thank you. It’s the wind, it sounds like,” you trail off biting your lip.

“It sounds like someone is crying,” Sirius finished for you and you nodded, “you get used to it.”

“McGonagall told me that you were in France until the end of the week,” you blurted, you were nervous and when you were nervous you tended to say stupid things.

Sirius shrugged as he leaned back in his chair and took a swallow of his scotch, “I decided to come back early.”

“To see your son?” when Sirius didn’t reply, you knew that you had said too much, “excuse me, Sirius,” you stumbled over his name before you quickly left the room.

You lingered in the doorway when he called your name, “Y/N, don’t forget your tea.”

You flushed and walked into the kitchen, forgetting why you were there in the first place, “thank you,” you said to him as you glance over your shoulder to offer him a small smile.

Sirius nodded before he stood from the table before he strode out without another word.

#sirius black #sirius orion black #sirius black fanfic #sirius black x y/n #sirius black x you #sirius black x reader #reader insert #lily potter #james potter #regulus black #harry potter #fluff #angst #the marauders au #au

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mitsvriii · 11 months

Text

Break Up

TW’s: angst, mention of abandonment, mentions of death

Pairings: Venti x reader, Xiao x reader, Kaedehara Kazuha x reader, Shikanoin Heizou x reader, Wanderer x reader; each of these are separate

Reader Type: can be read as any

Word Count: to be added

A/N: this is the anemo version of this, kinda short, if anyone wants i can do full length fics of these character’s scenarios separately, slightly ooc?

Venti

will think you’re joking at first

it’s some scheme that you and Kaeya came up with

when he sees your serious face though his cheeky smile disappears

his first instinct is to ask why but it’s quite painfully obvious

it would be something like you got tired of his drinking and the fact he never took anything that serious

it’s enough to get him teary-eyed and asking if you’d let him have a second chance

the look you give him is enough to confirm that this was the end of the relationship

wishes you the best as you go to leave

he will drink more often and more than before

if he sees anything that reminds you of him he’ll get emotional

as an Archon he knows you’ll before him

and it breaks him to know he won’t be beside you when you do

Xiao

oh boy

i honesty think that he would see this moment coming

i mean with his karmatic debt going on and him constantly having to be in battle

it doesn’t take long to put two and two together here

he’s stoned-faced the entire time you explain why you’re during this

after you finish literally the only thing he can say is “Okay.”

because he will crumble if he utters another word

his heart aches when you leave Wangshu Inn for the last time

his karmatic debt is somehow worse with you not around

highkey lowkey blames himself for it all

Kaedehara Kazuha

oh boy x2

i feel like he wouldn’t understand

will blame himself because that’s just Kazuha

can and will offer you nothing but the best even though you haven’t explained your reasons

once you do it clicks in his head

”…I understand. It is my fault for taking advantage of this relationship. For that I am truly sorry.”

literally just stop Kazuha

just stop

he will not cry until you leave

travels with Beidou more often to get his mind off of you

it hurts him when he has no one to recount his traveling tales with when he gets back

realizes it was probably for the best

Shikanoin Heizou

he probably notices the signs of an upcoming break-up before you

he’s not a detective for nothing

decides to act like an adult on this matter and confronts you about it

when you confirm his words his heart drops

he was excepting it but reality hits harder than expectation

nods his head as he listens to you explain why

will send at least a few tears

when you leave he breaks down

will refuse to work on any cases near your home

it hurts him

Wanderer

hehe hoho

oh boy x3

he would be a mixture of disbelief and anger and sadness when you tell him you want to call it quits

will demand you explain your reasons

he can and will make comments about how you acted during this relationship

but you both know that he’s doing this to cover up how he really feels

when you go to leave he nearly knocks you down in a tight hug

begging you to not go

his pleads don’t work because you leave anyways

becomes more hardened than he already is

gets irritated when someone mentions you

he will count this as he first true betrayal

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sandy-the-glader · 11 months

Note

maybe a george x grumpy! reader who never really smiles or shows emotion and George kinds makes it his secret mission to do that

Come on I see that smile!

Character: George Karim x Fem!Reader

Type: fluff

Length: 1.7K Words

Summary: Ever since you got to Portland row all it has been is neutral faces, anger and frowns. But George seems to be curious about what your smile looks like… for research purposes of course!

Trope: Grumpy x Sunshine (sorta)

A/n: Sorry if this is bad I've been trying to get back into writing btw maybe a tad bit of ooc George? Anyways this is a mix of second and first-person. Lmao lastly the format and like the 4 and 1 idea came from this fic so go check it out!

4 tries and 1 unintentional victory

Baked goods

Large raindrops pattered against the kitchen window of 35 Portland Row, creating a relaxing rhythm. I sprawled out articles and other various newspapers across the table. There wasn't much information on this house, no visitors had been reported before this caller. No murder cases from that house or interesting behaviors. I jotted down as many notes as I could on a surprisingly clean part of the thinking cloth.

A loud knock echoed through the house. I was too sucked into finding information and suspicious parts about this house to answer the door. Thankfully, I heard someone (most likely George) quickly dash to the door and handled with whatever it was. I assumed it was Arif since it was a quick interaction and the scent was so strong I could already smell it. Damn it smelled good.

George's quick footsteps dashed down to the kitchen, quickly landing the box on an available part of the table. I quickly drew my eyes back to the pages scanning for something remotely helpful. The worst case was going in cold.

"How's the case going?" George came to look at the papers and my progress. His fingers traced my handwriting.

"Not good. There is not a single thing tied to this house. And she said I have to be there in a week." I said with a dry expression. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw George rock back and forth on his heels before he spoke again.

"Well um, I got you extra of your favorite this week." I looked up at him. "If you need to take a break they are there." He offered.

"Thank you I appreciate that." George looked somewhat upset with my reaction. Why? I'm not exactly sure

"Yeah.." He grabbed a chocolate donut from the box and sighed on the way out of the room. I hope he’s okay.

Did I do something wrong?

"Is that a donut??" I heard Lucy call out from the stairs. "I didn't even know we had those!" maybe a break wouldn’t hurt…

2. Stress Cleaning

Sure this was more for George than it was for you but he hoped to kill 2 birds with one stone. He had spent the whole evening cleaning the house. Kitchen, library you name it. He left the bedrooms for last.

He knocked softly on your door and waited for a reply before going up the stairs. There wasn't much to clean in your's and Lucy's shared area besides maybe the windows and a few pieces of clothing needed to be picked up off the ground.

You were reading a book on your bed instead of trying to find more information on that house. You needed a break and your mind was just tired from searching article upon article. You had 3 more days and thought to hell with it I'll just do my best.

"What's up, George?" You peered over your book and at the boy. "Oh." From seeing his apron and blue gloves you already knew he meant cleaning. "You know you don't always have to clean up after us." He shook his head.

"You know cleaning is one of my favorite things right?" He cleaned every single day. Not even kidding. You can't remember the last time you've seen the house jaw-droppingly dirty. Because it never has been. For the many months you’ve been here George has done a fantastic job with keeping the house organized.

"That is true. I do feel bad sometimes." You hummed. "Well thank you." George quirked a small smile but you just nodded in acknowledgment.

Well, it was worth a try. He sighed quietly.

3. Favorite food

He knew as soon as you stepped through the door and slammed it shut, he had made a good decision. Another thing on George's list of "Y/n's smiles" was dinner. Sure food didn't work as well last time this was different.

He heard you curse at something and then throw your rapier into its spot by the door. You took in a deep breath through your nose trying to contain your anger from the trip and not make a lot of noise considering the time but you smelt something. Something so heavenly that's all you needed right now. Food.

You quickly went down the stairs and saw George in his apron Moving around the kitchen.

"Smells great Georgie. It's 3 am you didn't have to." She frowned feeling a bit bad for keeping him up.

"It's really no problem at all." He loved cooking so really it was just fun. "Looks like you had a fun night." She rolled her eyes and groaned. He leaned against a cabinet and glanced at you up and down. Your hair was very messy, traces of ectoplasm was all over your shoes and the bottom of your pants, and you were just really wanting food and a shower.

"Sarcasm. Not now I beg of you. But really the food smells fantastic." A sneaky smile formed on George's lips, not yours though you were far too tired to even think about it.

"Alright. Food's ready anyway." He brought two servings of the food over to the table placing one in front of you and the other across from you. "Do you want to talk about it?" He offered sitting down in front of his food.

"It was awful! The source was in a completely different part of the house than she thought and it was just disastrous!" You complained. He sat there and listened to your troubles like you always did with him.

You finally had a bite of the food and you felt at ease.

“George Casper Karim why can you cook so well?” He smiled downward. You didn’t smile you just had this tired yet calm look on your face.

“I have more talent than just touch.” He joked. She was right though the food did taste amazing.

“Yes you do.” George wasn’t entirely mad at the fact you didn’t smile but he did enjoy the compliment.

4. A New Sweater

George scanned the shelves of your favorite store looking for something you would like. There were plenty of things your style but what caught his eye was a sweater.

Your closet was full of them. Lucy too and so a sweater could be another candidate for his "Y/n's smiles" list.

It wasn’t too thick nor too light because he knew you were sorta picky when it comes to sweaters. And a bonus was it was one of your favorite colours.

He held it in his hands but, he double and even triple-checked the store for something you might like better. But he did not and he went and brought it up to the counter to pay.

The cashier was nice but she had mistaken George as your boyfriend which made him blush furiously and confirm the two of you were just close friends. The cashier didn’t buy it. She gave him a small disbelieving look and he tried to ignore it.

He was impressed by how well she wrapped up the sweater and put it in a really nice bag.

When he came back the house was insanely quiet, mainly because Lockwood was out of the house and Lucy was training in the basement. You had decided to have a lazy day you were mainly just in your bed or in front of your desk.

But he noticed you were making tea in the kitchen so he quietly ran upstairs to put your gift on your bed. And then he snuck back down to his room to wait for your return.

You held a cup in your hand and carefully walked upstairs. You were confused when finding a gift on your bed mainly because no one really gave you gifts out of the blue. A small gasp escaped your lips when you reached into the bag and pulled out a sweater. You held the sweater close. It was the right size it was quite a shocker

You didn't think Lucy even knew your size.

"Surprise." George came back up the stairs. You went and hugged him. He was slightly taken aback by the gesture. He wasn't exactly a hugger but he wrapped his arm around you and squeezed gently.

"Thank you, George. You do so much for me." Again he wasn't exactly angry that it had failed because he's never had a hug that felt this relaxing. He was feeling loved. "Anything." He said simply. You pulled back and ruffled his hair.

"You're too good for me."

George returned to his room and took a pen and struck off another idea on a sticky note above his desk. But he did put a small heart next to it.

5. Quality Time.

"Wanna go the archives with me? Lucy and Lockwood already said no but they were caught up in their own thing." George huffed. You sat up immediately and shoved a bookmark into your book. You cracked a half smile.

"I would love to." You sprung up and grabbed your bag and shoes. "They never want to go with me either." Still, a small smile plastered on your face.

George was shocked in the 3 months he knew you that's all it took? Just going to the archives? He would have groaned if he wasn't so happy for finally making you smile. The look was so unfamiliar on you but he definitely knew he wanted to see it more.

"I don't know why I never asked you." You chuckled softly. That was a complete lie. You didn't want to admit it or make it obvious that you have a raging crush on the other boy while being alone and so very close to him doing what you loved most.

George didn't even think about your comment. A chuckle? George's expectations were exceeded. He thought you would shrug it off and either go and keep to yourself or kindly decline.

"Come on Georgie!" You practically skipped out of the room, brushing past his shoulder and sending a jolt through his body. His heart swelled and he was honestly quite boastful at the moment. If he could shout it at the world he would. He felt like he deserved something for making Y/n L/n smile. But seeing your smile was an award in itself.

George followed her out of the house and down to explore the archives.

#george karim #george cubbins #george karim x reader #lockwood and co #save lockwood & co #george karim x you

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aventurine-official · 4 months

Text

Who, me? Call me Aventurine of Stratagems~

Go ahead, use me as you wish, even stab me in the back when you see fit. Exploitation and treachery are simply tools of the trade. But remember, I don't make deals that don't pay off... So, I hope you don't disappoint me.

Life is a gamble, but if you play your cards right... you might just win. I could teach you a few tricks, if you'd let me.

I work for the Interastral Peace Corporation-- I manage the Strategic Investment Department, but I always have time for a game and a drink or two. Maybe you should take me out sometime~

I've been called pretty many, many times, much like the stone I share my name with. I suppose it's true, I do seem to be blessed with good looks... but aventurine stones also have a sharp edge, and that's something you'd be better off remembering.

I'm not afraid to place bets on things that I want, and you'll often find that when I bet on something, I'm not usually wrong. Blessed by luck, blessed by fate-- I've heard it all, but I like to think that in someway, this skill, these wins, are all mine because I've earned them.

After all, life is just one grand bet, and I'll always be the final victor.

Notes from the moderator:

~ Mod also runs the @hydro-eidolon-kaveh-official rp account, so the format is her own and is not plagiarized :)

This Aven is the cat dad to three little cat cakes! Find them here

Guidelines:

~ Keep the asks sfw if you please, suggestive is okay!

~ No random links in asks unless they are links to other Tumblr posts (if they are there, please specify what they are)

~ Be kind, please. Any hateful comments related but not limited to racism, sexism, homophobia, ableism, ageism and transphobia will not be tolerated here and you may be blocked.

~ All ships (age-appropriate) are welcome. I personally believe Aventurine is gay as hell, so he will have a noticeable interest in men versus women).

~ Try to avoid sending DMs to the mod unless you are another mod

~ Anons are more than welcome here! You may have a personalized tag and everything :)

List of current anon signoffs here

Key (if applicable):

" " : for dialogue

* * : for movements

( ) : ooc

Tags:

#ace of spades ♠️ : Art reblogs

#ace trumps all ♠️ : Writing bits/possible starters

#roll the dice 🎲 : Random thoughts and calm moments

#trump card 🃏 : Asks from anons and others

#want to make a bet? 🪙 : Interactions with Honkai Star Rail blogs

#where the lights drown all sorrows 🌃 : Interactions with characters from Penacony

#royal flush 🪪 : Interactions with other members of the IPC

#ten of a kind 💎 : Interactions with / mentions of the other Stonehearts

#the cutest little cakes 🎂 : Interactions with / mentions of Aventurine's cat cake pets! (Individual tags here)

#queen of hearts ❤️ : Interactions with / mentions of Topaz

#queen of spades ♠️ : Interactions with/mentions of Jade

#king of diamonds ♦️ : Interactions with / mentions of Dr. Ratio

#angel boy 🪶 : Interactions with / mentions of Sunday

#queen of diamonds ♦️ : Interactions with / mentions of Garnet (a lovely mod's OC!)

Masterlist post of Honkai Star Rail-official blogs linked here

Want to join the rp community? Here are some tips and tricks from yours truly!

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail rp #hsr #hsr aventurine #aventurine honkai star rail #aventurine #rp #rp intro post #intro post #pinned post

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kannymaei · 7 months

Text

Eloping With The General - Prologue (Jing Yuan x Reader)

MASTERLIST

Author's Note: I haven't finished most of the main quests in HSR so everything will or might not be true to the story. Some characters may be OOC and this is not canon to anything <3 (Also new fic woohoo?)

Synopsis: The stars had crossed the paths of the future general of Xianzhou Luofu and a girl that originated from another universe through a meteor crash. While Xianzhou Luofu suffers the consequences of the curse of immortality, Jing Yuan has kept you imprison in his room for a long time before fate separates you for a long time.

Word Count: 1.2k

Next Chapter -> Chapter 1

Roughly 2000 years ago...

A young Jing Yuan was having trouble sleeping but he couldn't sneak out outside due to the fact that he'd be punished by Jing Liu for staying up late at night so he decided to star gaze on his balcony instead and no one could see him.

A very bright shooting star caught his eyes. He was fixated on the star that he began to doubt it was a star but rather a meteor.

The moment the meteor landed it caused quite an earthquake that awoke the people in Xianzhou Luofu but people assumed that it was just a normal shaking in their land. No one could have thought that it was a meteor.

Except that Jing Yuan knew that it was a meteor, so he jumped from his balcony and ran towards the direction of that meteor due to his curiosity getting the best of him.

---

After a few minutes, Jing Yuan saw a very odd shaped meteor. It has an oblong shape and the stone was smooth, it doesn't even look like stone, it's like porcelain with a jade in the middle.

He thought of how something like that would fall here? He decided to check it out and touched the jade.

Something happened, the so-called meteor had opened and revealed something... Rather someone.

Now Playing: Lia - One

When I saw you for the first time, I knew you were the one.

Smoke came out from the meteor and it opened slowly, you slowly opened your eyes to see a boy of your age who's on his back crawling away slowly from you.

You didn't say a word to me, but love was in the air.

What Jing Yuan saw was a girl with foreign clothing, she wasn't wearing any kind of slippers to cover her feet.

"Hello!" Jing Yuan said but he was frozen because your beauty was nowhere near the beauty of the world he was living in.

You were just staring at him, barely understanding whatever comes from this boy's mouth but based on his gestures, it seemed like he was trying to introduce himself to you.

"Ah let me cover your feet so it won't get dirty" Jing Yuan tore off his clothing and wrapped it around your feet and ankles.

When you held my hand, and pulled me into your world.

You felt his touch on your hand, and began showing you around the meteor area.

From then on my life has changed for good, now I'll never feel lonely again because you are in my life.

Jing Yuan wasn't a good liar. A few years have passed by and he has kept you inside his room for quite a long time. He realized that he can't have you running around the city because you don't belong there in the first place and he was scared that you might get executed.

Nevertheless, the two of you never shared a verbal conversation and he has assumed that you might be mute but in reality you aren't. You just listened to him as he taught you their language but you never attempted starting a conversation with him.

Love, how can I explain to you the way I feel inside when I think of you.

Jing Yuan can’t help but to worry about you because he left you inside his room for training. He wondered what he would do if they ever found out that he was keeping a lady of unknown species that may be possibly a threat to everyone.

You gazed upon the windows of his room to see people running around, selling buns and other sweets. It was very different from the world that you originally came from, it was rather peaceful and not chaotic. You can’t help but think about him and what kind of training he does.

I thank you for everything that you showed me, don't you ever forget that I love you.

Jing Yuan always brings something home to show you such as a mechanical bird, a special breed of flowers, and sometimes he brings home snacks to eat with you. Jing Liu and the others have been suspicious why he was buying food that is more than for himself and he can’t bring himself to tell that it was for you.

He was still young to realize that he was already attached to you.

Love, I know that someday, real soon. You'll be right next to me.

Jing Yuan had a dream that someday, the citizens would accept your presence and you would no longer be considered a threat.

Holding me so tight so I will always be yours.

Jing Yuan brought you to a secret and special place where you could admire the entire beauty of the city. Only people with such high status like him are permitted

Although we can't be together now, remember I am here for you when I know you're there for me.

"H-hey… this might sound weird but-" Young Jing Yuan blushes as he was about to confess his feelings for you until multiple mara-stuck cloud knights began to surround two of you.

He immediately brought his sword out and told you to stand on his back as he'd attempt to protect you and make you run away to escape.

You knew that you can't leave him, if it's someone who needs to be protected, it has to be him and not you.

Whenever I long to be with you, I just close my eyes and pretend you're here.

You could tell that Jing Yuan was really scared facing these many enemies as he was still very young and was not used to fights like this.

"I'll p-protect you okay! D-don't worry-" Jing Yuan breathed heavily, cold sweat began running down his cheeks.

He looked back and saw that you were not on his side.

The Mara-stuck soldiers began to charge all at once to him and Jing Yuan was terrified, fear clouded his mind as he didn't know what's the next step he should do.

I see you, I touch you, I feel you, like real.

A bright light came on, shooting one of the Mara-stuck soldiers that was about to stab and curse Jing Yuan, throwing it off-field.

He looked at the direction where the light came from.

Nothing can ever change what I feel inside.

"The eyes were a threat to the void" For the first time in so many years, Jing Yuan has heard your loving and soft voice.

You aligned your hand against the soldiers as blinding light began to surround the entire area, the soldiers were stunned as light envelopes them completely and it was the last thing that Jing Yuan saw.

How long must I be far away from you?

10 hours later.

Jing Yuan woke up to see several soldiers around him were cured from the curse of Mara.

He was very happy now that he knew there was a cure for mara.

He was glad that he wasn't cursed.

But one thing bothered him.

You were nowhere to be found.

I don't know dear but, I know we are one.

Centuries have passed and Jing Yuan is finally the general of the city.

He kept on reminiscing the days he had as a child, the days he had with you.

He was very afraid of the day he'd forget what you look like because he had already forgotten what your voice sounds like.

He is very afraid that these precious memories of him with you are starting to blur.

Until one fateful day, the brightest star lands on Xianzhou Luofu once again.

136 notes · View notes

tulipselfships · 2 months

Note

I would like I request Alan, Shirou, Byakuya, Nagito, and Kokichi with Reader who is like Princess Zelda from Zelda series.

🩵🩵🩵

Alan Sylvastia, Shirou Ogami, Byakuya Togami, Nagito Komaeda, Kokichi Ouma x Reader who is like Princess Zelda from The Legend Of Zelda.

Request by anonymous.

(OOC: Thanks for the request! This is my first multifandom request, and I'm excited for that.)

CW: Spoilers for Shirou and Kokichi

Requests are Open!

Request Rules

Fandom Masterlist

BNA: Brand New Animal Masterlist

Danganronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc Masterlist

Super Danganronpa 2: Goodbye Despair Masterlist

Danganronpa V3: Killing Harmony Masterlist

Alan Sylvastia

Alan needs a strong leader like you to run his business.

the medical business is quite the hassle, yknow.

Upon coming to terms with his feelings, Alan confesses them almost immediately. He doesn't hold back anything. You're honest, and he is too.

Your personality just makes it more precious to him. He values you, sometimes over his own company.

He even becomes a more honest worker because of you. His company ups their integrity, and somewhat lessens their attack on the beastmen.

Shirou Ogami

He saw you as just another person he met, at first. He had met countless people like you before, because of his countless years on this earth.

But upon seeing you many times, he opened up.

He loves your open, honest, and independent nature.

He also likes how you secure order (bad news for Michiru)

When he opened up about being Silver Wolf, he knew you would be accepting.

You're like the princess, no, the queen of Anima City, almost.

Byakuya Togami

Suffice to say, Byakuya was ecstatic. But he hid it very well.

Finally, someone who could meet his high standards.

Which is why you were the person he would come to the most In his free time.

He never let on that he was in love, but you caught the signs.

When confronted, he confessed.

Now, you're both riding high around Hope's Peak. No matter how unpopular you both may be with all of the other students there.

Nagito Komaeda

Nagito caught feelings quickly, but suppressed them.

He doesn't think he's worthy of someone like you.

And upon talking to him about it, he said that “A Meer stepping stone like me is not worthy of someone as sweet, and kind as you.”

You want to go through every loop possible to make sure he knows that he deserves you. Because you're like that.

You're not gonna let him wallow in despair. Because he would never let that happen to you.

Kokichi Ouma

You knew he had feelings as soon as he started acting differently around you.

He's quite the enigma. And that was kind of an upside.

You had to make sure he wasn't lying when he said he loved you.

You're great at catching his lies.

Kokichi knows you. And he trusts you, too, perhaps more than you trust him.

He's willing to show you a side of him that he never shows to anybody else.

Being around you helps him express his true emotions, and be himself better.

He's thankful for that. And that's not a lie.

20 notes · View notes

theteasetwrites · 1 year

Text

Merciless Beauty

Chapter 8: The Whole Truth Shall Be Seen

❧ Pairing: Knight Daryl Dixon x Princess Reader ❧ Era: Medieval fantasy AU ❧ Pronouns: she/her ❧ Warnings: angst, violence, blood, injury, some scenes may be triggering for those who are sensitive to sexual assault/abuse, so tread carefully! ❧ Word Count: 5.7k

❧ Before You Read...

❧ Glossary

❧ In This Chapter: Captured by the Saviors, you awaken at the so-called Sanctuary, where Sir Negan greets you, though he is displeased by your grief after having witnessed the supposed death of Sir Daryl. His wrath does not spare you. Meanwhile, Alexandria has been ravaged by the Saviors and overtaken by the Dead, but the tide shifts when some unexpected visitors arrive at Alexandria's gates.

❧ A/N: Ok so huge disclaimer—Negan is pretty OOC here. I mean, he is a creep and a violent asshole in the show, but I ramped that up a few levels here. After all, this is medieval Negan we're talking about. Medieval men were assholes to women, that's just how it was, unfortunately. And also, I said that a new character would be introduced in this chapter, which is technically true, but also technically not true lol you'll see. Anyway, things are getting intense, and this chapter gets a little dark. You've been warned.

Many times in your life had you awoken from a terrible dream, only to come to the slow realization that none of it really happened.

But there’s still that sense of dread, those several moments during which your mind tries to put the pieces back together, still somewhere between reality and dream. At some point, relief would soon set in as you’d feel the warmth and comfort of your bed, and it would be clear that it was all some trick of the mind. Not long after that, your dream would become foggy, to the point that you could no longer even recall exactly what it was that had troubled you so. It became a distant memory that never really existed to begin with.

Now, though, you awoke without that relief. Now, you woke up to the realization that your nightmare wasn’t a dream after all. You were in it, and you were somewhere you did not recognize.

Beneath your curled up body was a large, plush feather bed, draped in the finest silk brocade duvet. Cushioning your head, at least three pillows of similar make. The room was dark, but for a dripping wax candle on the nearest nightstand and a roaring fireplace across the spacious room.

As your mind began to catch up with your eyes, you sat up quickly, a dizziness overcoming you. Looking down, you were above the covers, wearing the very same pink gown you recalled wearing last, though your shoes had been removed.

Despite your lack of clarity, the quickening of your shallow breaths and the jitter in your hand as you palmed at your forehead betrayed the subconscious anxiety that overcame you. What had happened? Where were you?

Questions you knew the answers to, but couldn’t bear to face. First and foremost, you’d have to act without thinking. Thinking would only make you have to process your last memories, and that would ultimately lead to a conclusion you did not have the heart nor the stomach to face. Not without him.

You did not waste another moment. Now fully awake, though still dazed, you lifted yourself from the edge of the bed, sprinting swiftly to the intricately carved wooden doors across the room. Locked, of course. Another more careful gaze around the room alerted you to a window—barred from the outside.

Dusk had stained the sky a deep, greyish purple. Out the window, you could make out a tall stone wall, not unlike the one surrounding your castle. It seemed to be an inner bailey, which meant you were somewhere inside a keep. When a flash of black and red emblazoned itself on the inside of your eyelids, you remembered just whose keep you must’ve been in.

Turning back to the door, a great anger overwhelmed you. The vile maggots who so pompously dubbed themselves the Saviors had invaded your home. They brought the plague to your kingdom, letting the Dead feast upon your people as they no doubt pillaged their homes and did God only knew what else to those poor people.

Worst of all, to you… You couldn’t even think of it, what you last remembered seeing. You did not allow the thought to come to mind, though the image was impossible to ignore. It was what so inflamed you, ravaged you.

Even if you couldn’t let yourself process it, you still knew. You could still feel that residual anger welling up inside you, the sparks from that flame scratching the back of your throat until you couldn’t keep the fire in you any longer. You raised both fists to slam them against the hard wood of the door, over and over again, as a ragged, bitter yell erupted from the pit of your stomach and expelled out your trembling lips.

“Negan!” you bellowed, voice nearly drowned out by the incessant banging of your fists. “Let me out, you… you wretched beast! I demand to be let out! I—I demand to be returned to Alexandria at once! Open this door, or so help me, I’ll… I’ll—”

A muffled laughter interrupted your tirade. It came from not far outside the door, but it did not belong to Negan. Guards. It must’ve been guards. Despite your fury, you could not bother with their laughing, you could only try to listen in, attempting to discern how many guards were stationed outside that door.

With your ear pressed to the wood, you could now make out heavy, languid footsteps, and a new laugh. A low, lazy chuckle. Negan.

You were pushed back by a sudden force from the opening door. Without hesitation, you flung yourself towards the opening, only to be caught in a pair of long, lean arms. Despite your frantic squirming, he was strong enough to keep you held against him, closing the door behind him, immediately followed by the sound of a key turning in the lock from outside. Realizing you were stuck in here again, you moved on from your attempt at escaping to the immediate opportunity that presented itself before you: Negan.

And all the hatred you had within you bubbled to the surface, stinging at the back of your throat like bile. Years of wanting to see the world, of dreaming of a place that was full of hope and kindness and love, made you believe that, somewhere, there was goodness. When you met Daryl, who came from the outside, you knew that to be true. There were good people in this world, people who embodied hope, kindness, and love. When you met Negan, you had met the antithesis of that—the representation of everything you had been told was bad about the outside world.

You knew this to be true the moment you saw him, and when he nearly murdered Elizabeth. You knew this to be true because of the way he believed he was entitled to you, and to everyone and everything. Above all else, you knew this to be true because he lied. Even corrupt men can keep their word, can abide by their own laws. This man had not even a crumb of honor to his name, and to you, there was no greater virtue than honor, especially for a knight.

He was no knight, though. You’d known a true knight. For all his lack of chivalry at times, Daryl had more loyalty, more honor, more virtue in his little finger than Negan or any of his so-called Saviors had in their whole bodies. And Daryl… Poor Daryl.

No, you could not think of that now. All you could think of was your anger, and you’d never been this angry before in your life. In fact, you’d never really been angry at all, until now.

“Let me go!” you screamed, flailing your arms in a feeble attempt to rid yourself of his grip on your wrists. He walked you backwards, upon his face a great big smirk, rippled by a slow, steady, chuckle that only enraged you more. Before he could set you down, you planted your feet with all the strength you could muster, and as his grip just barely loosened, you swung your balled fists at his chest, much to his amusement.

“Unhand me!” you cried out, hitting him as hard as you could, though even for a rather slim man, he remained sturdy, his chest puffed out and taking each of your wobbly blows. In a fit of rage, you felt hot tears begin to flow over the slopes of your cheeks, your composure completely obliterated when your blurred vision caught full view of his lips, which his tongue coated in a sheen of saliva as he watched you struggle to hurt him.

“Vile wretch!” you spat, such words having never corrupted the purity of your mild mannered tongue. A slew of other insults followed. “Wicked swine! Stinking, detestable brute! You repulsive bastard, y-you barbarous, vicious goblin! You… You ugly, motherless worm! Loutish pig! Why, you… You deceiver! You beastly, uncouth, dishonorable—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” laughed the man. “You’ve got quite the vocabulary, don’t ya, princess?”

As he slowly walked you backwards, you felt the back of your knees hit the edge of the bed. With one last missed swipe at him, this time aimed at his smug, arrogant face, you fell, your back onto the feathery soft surface of the luxurious bed. But you did not intend to stay there long, leaping up in an attempt to hit him once again, but he was faster, using his own body to weigh you down as he slowly crawled over you.

Panting and crying, you took advantage of the momentary space between your bodies to bring up your knee, using it to hit him in the groin before he could fully pin you down. The motion sent him stumbling backwards with a pained groan, allowing you to seize the opportunity to lift yourself to your feet.

Now, panting and crying, you met his gaze. What could you do now? There was no getting out of here. Even if you could get the door open, there were at least four guards outside, and who knows many other Saviors just around the corner. You could not kill Negan, no matter how much the idea tempted you.

It seemed there was no end to this powerlessness, this lack of control of the things happening around you that seemed to plague you with every step you’d take. Even now, especially now, there was no escape, and all you could do was watch it all fall apart right in front of you.

“Damn,” huffed Negan, adjusting the crotch of his black wool chausses, his lack of decency disgusting you. With a bite of his bottom lip and a backwards tilt, he laughed once more. “You’re a little firecracker!”

Ignoring his quip, you narrowed your eyes in an attempt to appear threatening, though you could not keep your voice from breaking as you spoke. “Where is my father?”

There was so much you wanted to say to him, to scream at him, to beg of him, despite all your composure telling you to never, ever beg to someone who surely thrived on the submission. You could not let yourself give into his sick desires—all you could do, as a princess, was demand the answers to questions you deserved to know the answers to. You deeply feared those answers, as the odds of them being the ones you wanted were surely not in your favor, but you had to know. It was the greatest agony to not know at all. You only hoped the silver-tongued deceiver before you didn’t mistake your poise for meekness.

The several moments Negan spent eying you up and down only contributed further to your frustration. “He’s alive.”

That’s it?!

“Well, as far as I know.”

You marched towards him with several aggravated huffs fueling you. “What exactly does that mean?”

Negan only seemed to be amused by your closer presence, leaning forward to the point that you could feel his warm breath on your cheek. “We left that place for the dead bastards. Last we saw of the king, he was fighting back pretty damn good. Looked like he was winning, too. He’s tough, I’m sure he’s fine.”

Negan’s answer only worried you more. He could’ve gotten bit, he could’ve gotten overtaken, like…

“But that knight,” chuckled Negan with a shake of his head. In his voice was joviality that frightened you, as you knew the kind of thing that Sir Negan found to be amusing.

“Knight?” you repeated, coming closer to him now. “What knight? Did you see him? Is he all right? What happened to him?”

Deep in your heart, you knew, once again, the answer would not please you. Just by the gleam in his eyes, the despicable curl in his lips, the diabolical lift of his brows. He found it all to be quite funny, but when he noticed your earnestness, his look of delight faded to a seriousness that matched yours, though his was not born of concern for your knight.

“Now, why would the Crown Princess of Alexandria care so much for the wellbeing of a useless knight?”

Useless?! You had half a mind to strike him across his insufferable, repugnant face, but you couldn’t let your anger overcome you when all you wanted was to know that your love was alive. You couldn’t bear to even think otherwise, not until you had some kind of confirmation. That confirmation would be the only semblance of comfort you could cling to.

“He is not useless,” you replied. “He was trying to help me. H-he was…” It hit you then. Was.

As you lowered your gaze to squeeze your eyes shut, compelling your tears to fall in the hopes that the vile man couldn’t see them, his tongue tisked at you, as if in disappointment at your sadness.

“Oh, my sweet princess,” he lamented, to which you squeezed your eyes even harder, as your fist balled in a tight clench around nothing. You strangled the air with your trembling hands, wishing it could be Negan’s neck. “You cared about him, didn’t you? Man… He went down. It was a bloodbath. I would not have wanted to be him, I’ll tell you that.”

As your knees weakened, you sat yourself down on the edge of the bed, grief finally overcoming your abject rage. Though you could not allow yourself to break too much before Negan, the man who had indirectly caused the death of the man you loved, you also could not bear to go another moment without weeping for him, that image of him surrounded by rotten gnashing teeth and cold, lifeless bodies that closed in all around him.

As you cried, it was as if you could feel your heart breaking in two, a sensation you hadn’t experienced since your mother’s death. It was a dull, lingering pain that sharpened with each deep, heaving intake of air, as if the simple act of breathing contributed a new crack to your already shattered heart. After all, why should you breathe? What point was there, without love, without him, who embodied love?

Living now, after you had sworn you’d found the other half of your soul, seemed selfish. Daryl had died being selfless. He had fulfilled his promise to you—he died for you. Not Alexandria, not the duke, not your father, not God. He died because of his devotion to you.

That only made it worse, knowing that you, in some roundabout way, had a hand in his death. If it weren’t for you, he’d be alive. He wouldn’t have suffered, dying in the worst possible way you could imagine. Thinking of the pain he must’ve endured, the fear in his heart… Oh, my love!

“There, there… Don’t cry.” The weight of Negan sitting beside you reawakened your rage, his voice grating as you shot up from your seat and glowered at him through wide, piercing eyes.

“Deceiver!” Your shaky finger accused him as you pointed his way in a frantic motion. “You lied! You said you’d return to Alexandria in a week’s time. You bring walkers to my doorstep, you steal from my people, you destroy my property—my home, and now you tell me not to cry?! How dare you! How dare you even speak to me at all! My knight is dead because of you!”

Standing to his feet, he matched your wide-eyed gaze with his own, though in his eyes was something far more sinister—a crazed fury that made you stumble backwards, nearly tripping on your heel.

“Your knight?”

The cold hard wall pressed against your shoulder blades, while Negan’s arms outstretched to cage you between his body and the wall behind you. Still crying, heaving, panting, you began to shake in fear. The man might’ve been smarter than you’d thought, if he had caught onto your love for Daryl. Your knight.

“Th-the knight,” you replied, attempting to appear innocent despite your quivering lips and beating heart against his chest telling a different story. “You got the knight killed.”

“No.” His voice was low, and much too quiet for comfort. You were used to him practically bellowing each word, not barely speaking above a whisper. “No, you said ‘my.’ Tell me… what is that knight to you, princess? You seem awfully saddened by his untimely demise. What makes him your knight?”

Your attempt to squirm yourself away from him was made in vain, your shoulders held in the grip of his strong hands, his curled fingers digging into your flesh.

“Nothing,” you replied. “Let me go.” The last three words went unacknowledged.

“Why would you cry for him, then?” Repulsed by his face just an inch or two from yours, you tried to turn your head, but his hand was faster. Squeezing your chin and cheeks was his hand, cold and dry. Despite your shaking, he held your face still, forcing your eyes to stay glued to his. “Tell me!”

In your fear, your voice collapsed underneath itself, though you still spoke, although your words were muddied by your tears. “H-he was my friend. Please!” Now you had to beg him, just to let you go from his painful grasp, which had lowered to the junction of your neck and your jaw. Any lower, he’d begin to restrict you of air, but he wanted you to speak. He could only strangle you enough to still hear you admit to the paranoia that had suddenly overcome him. He knew that knight meant more to you than what you said. “You’re hurting me!”

But he did not care, why would he? You knew all along that Negan’s desire to have you was not born of any kind of admiration of you, though perhaps the closest sentiment he held was lust. His lust for power, though, dominated any lust for you that might’ve existed in his cold, black heart. He wanted you as a trophy, as evidence of his conquest of the once great kingdom of Alexandria. He could hurt you now with no remorse, and no consequences.

After all, you were his now, as far as he was concerned. Little did he know that you belonged to someone else.

But he was catching on, so much so that you could see it in his eyes, feel it in the tightening of his hand as he threatened to crush your jaw. You’d never felt such strength like that before. The only other touch from a man you knew of was Daryl’s, and though you’d felt his strength, how firm his touch could be, but never like this. Never threatening, never anything to be fearful of, never painful.

“Friend?” he questioned, squeezing around the top of your neck, his thumb digging into your tensed muscles. “With a knight?”

“Yes! Please!” The pain only worsened as you spoke.

Negan pushed his face closer, so close that his heaving breath defiled your cheek as he whispered, “I don’t believe you.” His voice was calm, though, not tense. You almost wished he had screamed at you, instead of this strange, serpentine hiss that escaped from his lips, as if even the sound itself was disgusted by his mouth and could not stand to be trapped in there a moment longer.

Your whimpering and panting quickened as he loosened his grip on your neck, bringing his hand up to let his thumb brush over the apple of your cheek. The feeling made you flinch, your eyes squeezing shut as more tears were forced out. “You’re real pretty when you cry, you know that, princess?”

I hate you! The words were drowned out by your weeping, the lump in your throat pushing them down until all that you could muster was a strangled whimper.

“But, pretty as you are,” he continued, and though you could not see him, your eyes closed for fear of witnessing whatever he was going to do to you next, “I know a whore when I see one.”

With hardly a moment to process his words, your eyes shot open with the feeling of his knee parting your legs, and his other hand scrambling between your bodies to find the edge of your skirt. You wriggled in his grasp, but he only used his body to further press you against the wall, this time with a great slam.

“Told you to keep your purity for me.” You grasped at his shoulders, trying to push him away, but he was too sturdy on his feet, as he began to lift your gown. “Let’s see if you did.”

You were still squirming when you felt a hard, cruel clench around your bare thigh, moving fast to slither upwards till he groped you, causing you to cry out in combined pain and fear. While his body held you in place, he used his other hand to continue trying to lift your gown. What he wanted, you knew, was to see if your maidenhead was intact, and possibly worse.

Either way, you were going to suffer. If he inspected your womanhood, he’d surely find that you’d been deflowered, and for an unmarried woman in this world, that could mean death. You did not care now, though. Death frightened you, but there were worse things. For all your innocence, you knew that. All you cared about now was preserving whatever was left of your dignity.

In your panic, you managed to wriggle your arm loose enough to flail your hand with as much strength as you could muster, striking Negan across his face so hard that he stumbled backwards, though you did not move a muscle now. You couldn’t. His stare held you hostage, brown eyes narrowed with sharp pins for pupils. You could only tuck your hands behind your back as you straightened against the wall, wishing somehow that, if you pressed yourself into it hard enough, you could dissolve into it.

With each step he took closer to you, it seemed the ground shook under his heavy feet. In his gaze now was nothing short of pure, unadulterated fury. When he was close enough to reach you, he stopped to stare you down with an assault all on its own, but it did not prepare you for the blow.

“You bitch!”

Just as you’d struck him, he struck you back, only with the back of his hand, and with more intention. Your hit was practically a reflex, an instinct to defend yourself. Even if you’d hit him with more animosity than fear, you’d have been too weak to even daze him. His hit was of greater proportions, strong enough to knock you to the floor, where the first droplet of blood dripped from your nose.

Negan did not stay long to watch you weep, curled up into yourself as he turned to the door, storming out until all that was left of his presence was the burst of air from the slam of the door. A rattling of the lock from outside, and then his voice bellowed again.

“You’re staying in there until you learn some goddamn manners, princess!” His fist banged on the door, causing you to flinch and wrap yourself tighter in your own embrace. As his ranting voice faded and his distant footsteps whittled down to a silence, you were left shaking, bleeding, wailing—utterly alone.

“He’s waking up now… Get the king.”

For several moments, that voice was nearly drowned out by the deafening beat of his heart, and the faint remnants of snarls and groans that still lingered. The memory made him flinch, jolting his body awake as he sat up, already looking around frantically as his senses were thrust back into gear.

He did not recognize his surroundings, the low ceiling of stone propped up by stone walls, with pale streams of overcast daylight flowing in through the lone window. Though at first he could not notice the persons standing immediately beside him, he caught sight of several hay-stuffed beds, upon which were injured men, some even missing limbs with bloody rags wrapped around the stumps.

Not a good sign.

But he couldn’t fret for himself, not when the very last thing he recalled was his princess being dragged away.

“Take it easy.” Richard’s voice finally sounded clear as the knight sat up with a huff. If it weren’t for the duke’s grip on his bare shoulder, he would’ve been halfway out the door by now.

“Slow down.” The king’s voice came from behind Richard as he approached. Ezekiel looked tired, his once regal clothing stained with blood. “How is he?”

He wondered that himself. Looking down, his lower half was covered by a thin wool blanket, his top half bare but for a band of gauze wrapped around his waist, stained by a red circle of blood on his side.

Before Richard could even answer, though, Daryl attempted to stand again, his mind isolated on one thing. Turning to face the duke, he simply asked, “Where is she?”

By name, not the princess. Not her highness. Not even your name. She. She, the only she who mattered to him. His she.

Richard understood, of course. He knew not of the consummation of your love, but he knew the knight well enough to know just who was on his mind at all times, and that was you.

“Negan.” The simple utterance of his name was enough to have him back on his feet, much to the frustration of Richard, who pushed him back down, urging him to rest.

And then, he had to come to terms with the reality that was right in front of him—the grim truth. Having woken up after his last several moments of consciousness were spent surrounded by walkers, the worst case scenario was all too likely.

But he did not worry for himself now, no. He worried that, if he were bit, he could not fight—he could not bring you back to your home.

“Am I… Am I bit?”

Richard shook his head. Upon closer inspection of the usually clean-cut, well-groomed man, he looked the most disheveled and exhausted he’d ever seen, with once luscious curls turned into a frizzy, blood-caked rat’s nest, and pronounced bags underscoring his eyes. If the duke and the king looked like that, Daryl was afraid to look at himself.

“No,” replied the duke. “You’re not bit. You must’ve fallen on your dagger when you were in the herd. The wound is shallow, but you should rest. You were passed out from exhaustion when we got to you.”

“Nah,” he said, this time standing up without Richard’s intervention. “I don’t need rest.” Though his wound made him flinch in pain as he walked, he crossed the room to the small window, where outside he could see twenty or so men, some nobles, some peasants, fighting off walkers, thinning out the remaining herd in the castle’s courtyard.

The earth they stood upon was blotched in red and decorated with the decaying corpses of once half-living walkers. Leaning forward, he took note of the state of the barbican, where men in tattered rags and bloodied hands worked to close off the entrance. Shattered bits of iron littered the ground, where the inner portcullis once had been. They must’ve blasted through it with cannonfire, letting in the Dead once the fortifications were destroyed.

“The Saviors did not kill,” said the king. “The Dead did… The Saviors left them to turn. The damage to Alexandria’s outer walls was too severe to repair. The Dead now roam the streets, with the remaining population of my people taking shelter in the castle, here.”

“How many?” asked Daryl, turning back towards his bed to procure a fresh white linen chemise from the nightstand. As the restless knight dressed himself, the king did not answer, only exchanged a look of confusion with the duke. “How many people are left?” repeated the increasingly impatient knight.

Piping up from behind the king was Lord Constable Aaron. “One hundred and twenty-five accounted for in the castle,” answered the man. “But most of them are civilians. We only have a trained militia of forty or so able-bodied men. The rest are either infirm, elderly, women, children, or just simple craftsmen. Not enough fighters. Not enough defense to handle another herd.”

“And the cannonfire last night,” added Richard. “That’ll bring more of them.”

“State of the armory?” Daryl asked, choosing to ignore the less than hopeful rhetoric. “Blades, artillery, gunpowder… Weapons. We need weapons.”

“Very nearly depleted,” answered Lord Chancellor Gerald. “What the men have out there is all we have left. An abundance of dull blades and weak fists.”

As he sat to lace on a pair of brown leather boots, Daryl huffed a sigh. “And cavalry. The horses…” He feared the answer. Phantom, his steed, had been more than just a faithful destrier, but a friend.

“One of the few things we were able to protect,” replied the king, much to Daryl’s momentary relief. “They’re all safe in the castle stables. In fact, it’s our only recourse. Once the tunnels are cleared, our plan is to escape through there, on horseback, then seek refuge in a neighboring kingdom.”

That wasn’t good enough.

“And the princess?” Daryl met the king’s sturdy gaze, though it quickly crumbled as he processed the knight’s question. “What’s your plan for getting the princess back?”

“Daryl—” The duke’s voice was drenched in hopelessness, which the knight quickly shot down.

“No,” he replied sternly. “That’s the priority: bringing her back, killing Negan and every damn Savior we can get our hands on.”

A silence fell over the infirmary, with the king lowering his head, as if in shame. “We do not have the manpower nor the armaments to fight a force like Negan’s,” he said. “They rival our numbers by at least four times, and their armory is unmatched. We saw only a fraction of it last night. No one wants to get my daughter away from that… serpent more than I do, but it would be a lost cause, and we’d lose more people. Innocent people, people who cannot fight. We cannot send them into battle.”

“Then what will we do?” questioned Daryl, his voice raising enough to nearly echo in the small infirmary. “Every second she’s there, she could be…” As he trailed off, he stopped himself from continuing his thought, lest the extent to which he cared for you be revealed. “There must be something.”

I’ll go in there myself if you don’t have the balls, he wanted to say, but he’d already raised his voice at the king once today, and he did not want to bend his code of chivalry more than necessary. Daryl knew that King Ezekiel was a good man, a good father, a good king. You’d told him so, and if anyone’s word meant anything to him, it was yours.

He understood the king’s hesitation to lead the remaining able-bodied population of Alexandria into battle against the Saviors. He knew that it was a long shot, that the likelihood of saving you was one in a million. He knew, above all else, that King Ezekiel was only weighing the pros and cons of his decisions, doing what was best for the survival and longevity of his kingdom, his people. The king was simply acting upon logic, but Daryl was never particularly fond of logic.

Sensing Daryl’s distress, the duke pulled him aside, his hand upon the knight’s shoulder to offer him a semblance of comfort. Leaving the king and his advisors to speak, Richard held the knight’s gaze in the corner of the infirmary. “We’ll figure something out,” he said quietly. “But we have to wait for the right time.”

“I can’t wait,” he simply said. “I can’t.”

“I know, but you’re not going to be able to save her if you get killed the minute you get to the Sanctuary, and that’s what’s gonna happen. Hell, we don’t even know where the Sanctuary is, Daryl.”

I’ll find it. I’ll find her. I’ll find him. I’ll kill him.

But he only nodded solemnly, chewing his bottom lip as he tried desperately to come up with something he could do. There was nothing.

“Just… Just can’t let him have her. Not without a fight.”

The comforting weight of Richard’s hand upon his shoulder was a welcome feeling. “You’ve already fought for her, Daryl. You’ll fight for her again, but not now. Not until—”

“Your majesty!” One of the last remaining guards had thrown open the door to the infirmary, looking panicked as he cried for the king.

Ezekiel pushed past his advisors, approaching the guard with a hurred, yet somehow dignified, step. “What is it?”

The guard could only look at the king wide-eyed for several moments, until he began to stutter, out of breath and shaking his head as he tried to put into words what he had come into the infirmary to tell the king.

“Speak, man!” demanded Ezekiel. “I have very little time for this dawdling.”

“At-at the drawbridge,” he stammered, “there’s a… there’s a… man.”

“A man?” questioned the constable. “Who?”

“Well, many men. Many, many men.”

The king’s eyes widened. “Another attack?” he asked.

“Th-they claim to be… friends. The man leading them wishes to speak to you.”

This piqued the knight’s interest as he exchanged a look with the duke. There was tension in the air, but not the kind that preceded a calamity. It was the kind of tension that only uncertainty could conceive. Even in the best of times, there was no way to tell who really was friend or foe. Now, more so than ever, Alexandria was vulnerable. A friend, if truly a friend, could mean salvation for the kingdom, but a foe could bring it down in one fell swoop.

The king, naturally, had a few more questions before he agreed to meet these so-called “friends” outside his castle. “And who is this friend?” he asked. “And what does he want?”

As if in disbelief at his own knowledge, the guard shook his head once more. “I—I… He only said he wants to speak to the king, and he calls himself…”

Now frustrated, Ezekiel took the guard’s shoulders in his hands as he shook him gently, as if to rouse him from his stupor. “Calls himself what?”

The guard huffed, almost with a tinge of a laugh to his voice.

“Jesus.”

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