#yes I deliberately left who he's talking to vague

[winterspixels]

"Why are you dressed like a knock off Indiana Jones?"

"You don't like it? When you asked me to pack for an archeological expedition, this is what came to mind. I must admit khaki isn't really my color."

"It's a little much."

"Hmm, you're right. I brought a backup just in case."

"I'm starting to think you googled Harrison Ford movie roles for this trip. Han Solo, seriously."

"He was a spice runner; I was a master thief. It made sense at the time. Besides, this is a lot more comfortable."

"...Why are you like this?"

"You know, my brother's been asking me that same question since we were kids. I'm not sure he ever found an answer. Personally, I feel I'm simply one of a kind."

#ts3 #I'm just writing random things at this point #after putting this together I realized both Indy and Han tended towards earth colors so technically the outfits could be interchangeable #Chase Laskaris #yes I deliberately left who he's talking to vague

[rays-of-fire-and-ice]

From Afar

Prompt: text messaging

Rating: K/General

Setting: Starts off in Full Bringer arc, carries on into the ten-year time skip.

Synopsis: In which Toshiro and Momo start texting.

AN: we’re almost at the end of @yearoftheotpevent's challenge! This time, I went for something so different from anything I’ve written before (in terms of format anyway). I took a section from my earlier post, but everything else is completely new. Note that the names for Hitsugaya switch in each section to indicate who’s point of view the messages are being viewed from.

I hope you enjoy it!

__________________________________

Hinamori: Hey Shiro-chan! ヾ(•ω•`)o Text me back so I know that this worked. Hitsugaya: It’s Captain Hitsugaya. Also, you missed a ’,’. Hinamori: Good, it worked!

Hinamori: Also, you don’t have to grammatically correct in text, Shiro-chan.

Hinamori: How was your day? Hitsugaya: It’s CAPTAIN HITSUGAYA, Hinamori. My day was fine. What about you? Hitsugaya: Also, I didn’t mean those capitals because I was angry, just emphasizing the point. Hinamori: I know (❁´◡`❁) My day was great! I found the fourth volume of the Crimson Chrysanthemum saga while I was on my break!! ☆*: .｡. o(≧▽≦)o .｡.:*☆ Hitsugaya: Also, Captain Hirako and I got all of our paperwork done before the end of the week ( •̀ ω •́ )✧ He’s got this new CD from the World of the Living and I think it helped me focus. Hitsugaya: That’s good. I’m glad you found that book, I knew it was important to you. Hinamori: What did you do today? Hitsugaya: Mostly reviewing reports. In my break, I started work on a new sculpture. Hinamori: (((o(*ﾟ▽ﾟ*)o))) Hitsugaya: I wasn’t done. Hinamori: Sorry!! m(_ _)m It’s just you didn’t text for a while after your last message. Hitsugaya: There’s a time limit? Hinamori: Not really, but there’s an assumption that if you don’t message after a certain time period it means you’re waiting for the person to respond or you’ve left the phone. Hitsugaya: What’s the time period? Hinamori:…It depends?? Hitsugaya: Why are there so many vague rules around this?! Hinamori: You’ll get it in no time (✿◠‿◠) I’m so glad you decided to start texting, we can talk to each other more regularly now!

Hitsugaya: We’ll see, I may end up not liking this.

Hinamori: One step at a time! Anyway, tell me more about your day!

__________________________________

Shiro-chan: Is now an okay time to text you?

Hinamori: Hi Hitsugaya-kun! ヾ(•ω•`)o

Hinamori: Yes, it is.

Shiro-chan: Is Matsumoto with you?

Hinamori: No, but she came by earlier with the paperwork.

Shiro-chan: At least she did that.

Shiro-chan: Any idea where she’s gone to?

Hinamori: Do you have her contact details? You could just text her directly.

Shiro-chan: I’m not going to do that.

Hinamori: Why not? (´･ω･`)?

Shiro-chan: Because I’ll never hear the end of it from her.

Hinamori: What do you mean?

Hinamori: Are you still there?

Shiro-chan: Yes.

Hinamori: Sorry m(_ _)m It’s just that you didn’t text anything back for a while. It’s okay, you don’t have to elaborate. I could text her if you want? ( •̀ ω •́ )✧

Shiro-chan: Don’t bother.

Hinamori: Maybe she’s with Nanao-san. I heard they were going to go over some Women’s Association planning.

Shiro-chan: I will never understand why you’re all so secretive about your activities.

Hinamori: We’re not secretive!

Shiro-chan: Shouldn’t you be doing work?

Hinamori: I could be saying the same for you too! ￣へ￣

__________________________________

Hitsugaya:  Is now an okay time to text you?

Hinamori: Sorry for the late reply!! m(_ _)m Yes, it is.

Hitsugaya: Did I leave my bento box in your office?

Hinamori: I was wondering who it belonged to! Yes, it’s here.

Hitsugaya: I’ll come around to collect it in an hour.

Hinamori: Take your time! Was it from your lunch with Captain Hirako?

Hitsugaya: Yes.

Hinamori: Sounds like it was productive according to the Captain O(∩_∩)O

Hitsugaya: If you call playing music and deliberately signing your name backwards productive.

Hinamori: ^_^|||

Hinamori: He’s a good captain.

Hitsugaya: I’ll be over soon.

__________________________________

Hinamori: Look what I found!! q(≧▽≦q)

Hitsugaya: You can send pictures on these?

Hinamori: Of course! Didn’t Rangiku-san tell you?

Hitsugaya: She still doesn’t know I’m texting.

Hinamori: Really, what’s the harm in telling her?

Hitsugaya: Don’t go there.

Hinamori: …All right.

Hinamori: Anyway, what do you think? Aren’t they cute?!

Hitsugaya: Are they meant to look like cats?

Hinamori: Yes!! I really like the orange one, it’s so sweet looking (≧∇≦)

Hitsugaya: It’s not all about the look, Hinamori. Can they actually spin?

Hinamori: Want me to by them and you can find out? (oﾟvﾟ) o

Hitsugaya: No, I outgrew spinning tops years ago. I’m not a child anymore!

Hinamori: It’s okay to still have hobbies from when you’re a child, Hitsugaya-kun.

Hinamori: But if you’re sure, then I’ll leave them (┬┬﹏┬┬)

Hitsugaya: There’s nothing stopping YOU from buying for yourself or someone else.

Hinamori: You’re the only person I still know who used to play with them, and I don’t know how they work.

Hitsugaya:…I’ll show you.

Hinamori: (⊙ˍ⊙)

Hinamori: Really?!

Hitsugaya: Don’t tell anyone.

Hinamori: I won’t! Even though there’s no shame in it!

Hinamori: I’m buying them! *: .｡. o(≧▽≦)o .｡.:*☆

Hinamori: Thank you, Shiro-chan!!

Hitsugaya: Why are you thanking me? We don’t even know if they spin.

Hinamori: We will next time we have a lunch break together!

__________________________________

Shiro-chan: Is now an okay time to text you?

Hinamori: Yes, it is. Also, you don’t have to ask me that every time, you can just text me whenever and I’ll answer when I can *^____^*

Shiro-chan: Noted.

Shiro-chan: I can’t see you today, we’ve got business to take care of in North 58th District.

Hinamori: That’s okay!

Hinamori: Good luck with your work! (❁´◡`❁)

Shiro-chan: Thank you.

__________________________________

Hinamori: I have some reports you need to authorize. Is it okay if I come by now?

Hinamori: Shiro-chan?

Hinamori: I can come by with them tomorrow, they’re not urgent (*^_^*)

Shiro-chan: CAPTAIN HITSUGAYA

Hinamori: Is something wrong?

Shiro-chan: MATSUMOTO JUST FOUND OUT I’M TEXTING YOU

Hinamori: Oh, how did that happen?!

Shiro-chan: SHE HEARD MY DENREISHINKI BEEP WHILE WERE LOOKING OVER SCHEDULES

Shiro-chan: NOW SHE WON’T SHUT UP ABOUT IT AND I'VE HAD TO LEAVE THE OFFICE

Hinamori: I’m sorry, Shiro-chan!! （＞人＜；) I shouldn’t have messaged you!

Shiro-chan: CAPTAIN HITSUGAYA!

Shiro-chan: AND IT WAS MY OWN FAULT FOR HAVING IT THERE AND NOT KEEPING IT ON SILENT.

Shiro-chan: Also, sorry for all the capitals.

Hinamori: Rangiku-san just messaged me about it. She seems really ecstatic about this!

Shiro-chan: I’m going back in and stopping her right now.

Hinamori: It’s not her fault, please don’t be mean to her!

__________________________________

Hitsugaya: I just reread your message from two days ago. Did you still need me to authorize those reports?

Hinamori: Hitsugaya-kun! Yes, actually. I can come over now if you have time (･ω･)b

Hitsugaya: Not yet, Matsumoto is on her way out. I don’t want her here to bug us about texting.

Hinamori: Ah, she already spoke to me about it at our Women’s Assoication meeting yesterday.

Hitsugaya: Not in front of everyone else I hope!

Hinamori: No! Just the two of us. Honestly, would it be so shameful for everyone to know you’re texting? Most Shinigami I know do.

Hitsugaya: It’s unbecoming of a Captain to engage in frivolous things so often.

Hinamori: Well, we don’t text that often, and you text far less than Captain Hirako.

Hitsugaya: Of course he does, I’d expect that from him.

Hinamori: What does that mean?! (ﾟ дﾟ )

Hitsugaya: Matsumoto just left. You can come over now.

Hinamori: I’m on my way ε＝┏(･ω･)┛

Hinamori: But don’t think I’ll forget what you just wrote!

Hinamori: On second thought, I just ran into Rangiku-san. It seems she was aware of these reports already and was coming to get them?

Hitsugaya: Did she read my texts?!

Hinamori: No, she didn't. Captain Hirako mentioned them yesterday at the Lieutenant and Captain's meeting.

Hitsugaya: Why didn't she tell me about them?

Hinamori: Apparently you were really busy with reports and trainign schedules, so she thought to not add this on to your work until you had more time.

Hitsugaya: Wait, are you texting in front of her right now?!

Hinamori: ^^;

Hinamori: I mean, she knows now...

Hinamori:...She wanted me to send this.

Hitsugaya: Why did you take a picture with her? Tell her to get back here right now!

Hinamori: She's on her way.

__________________________________

Hinamori: Good luck with your mission tomorrow!

Shiro-chan: You heard?

Hinamori: Abarai-kun told me. I hope everything goes well with Kurosaki-san.

Shiro-chan: I’m certain it will. Kuchiki will be giving him his powers back. We're just there to observe and defend in case of threats.

Hinamori: Ah, that makes sense!

Hinamori: I have to get back to work. Have a good day! (✿◠‿◠)

__________________________________

Hitsugaya: I need an opinion.

Hinamori: Hi Hitsugaya-kun! ヾ(＾∇＾) Sorry for the late reply, I was finishing up some orientation with the new recruits. Did you still need a second opinion?

Hitsugaya: Yes.

Hitsugaya: What do you think of this artwork?

Hinamori: o(*°▽°*)o

Hinamori: You sent a picture!

Hitsugaya: It's not a big deal.

Hinamori: I guess not, it's just you haven't done that up until now ^^;

Hitsugaya: Matsumoto and Minagawa (our third seat) have said we need more artwork in the division. Obviously not in the training rooms, but perhaps the library or main office. What're your thoughts on this one?

Hinamori: It's beautiful! ♡(ŐωŐ人) Is it watercolour?

Hitsugaya: I think so. It's of a valley in the southern Second District, we have juristiction over it so I thought it was appropriate. Do you think it would fit in the main barrack's hall?

Hinamori: Yes!! It could be near the entrance!

Hitsugaya: Minagawa said the same thing.

Hitsugaya: All right, I'll go buy it tomorrow.

Hinamori: How exicting!! ヽ(✿ﾟ▽ﾟ)ノ

Hinamori: I need to get back to the office, Captain Hirako and I need to finish off some reports.

Hitsugaya: He better be helping you with those.

Hinamori: He is, and if he isn't, I can do them! ᕙ(‾̀◡‾́)ᕗ

Hitsugaya: There's no excuse!

Hinamori: I can call him back at anytime if he's not there.

Hitsugaya: You're showing your Tiger of Paperwork side, Hinamori.

Hinamori:（＞д＜）

Hinamori: I bet you're laughing right now ( •̀ - •́ )

Hitsugaya: I won't say.

__________________________________

Shiro-chan: Happy birthday, Hinamori.

Hinamori: Thank you, Hitsugaya-kun!! (●’◡’●)

Shiro-chan: I can’t come see you today, but I’ll try in the next few days.

Hinamori: You don’t have to, I understand that you’re busy right now ^_^

__________________________________

Hinamori: We should really visit the Junrinan some time.

Hitsugaya: This seems out of the blue.

Hinamori: Ah, sorry! m(_ _)m

Hitsugaya: What made you think of that?

Hinamori: I just realised it’s been a while.

Hitsugaya: You’re right, it has been.

Hinamori: Maybe we could go some time next week?

Hitsugaya: At this stage, June 14 works best for me. It seems to be when I’ll have a proper break.

Hinamori: I can make that work! See, texting is good for organising things like this!

Hinamori: I’m excited now!ヽ(✿ﾟ▽ﾟ)ノ

Hitsugaya: We’ll see, but I’ll aim to keep it free.

__________________________________

Hinamori: Are you on your way?

Hitsugaya: On my way to what?

Hinamori: Sorry!! I was meant to text Rangiku-san. It’s for the emergency Lieutenant’s meeting.

Hitsugaya: She’s on her way.

Hinamori: Thank you.

Hitsugaya: I'm about to go into the Captain's meeting, I'm turning this off.

Hinamori: Okay, same. Stay safe.

__________________________________

Hinamori: Hitsugaya-kun, are you all right?

Hinamori: I heard from the Captain what happened.

Hinamori: Text me when you can.

__________________________________

Hinamori: I’m sorry, it’s been a two days and I haven’t heard from you.

Hinamori: I want to come and see you, but everything is in chaos here. It seems to be that way for everyone.

Hinamori: If that’s why you haven’t texted back, that’s okay. I was just worried after what Captain Hirako told me. What the Quincy did to you and the other Captains is unforgivable. Please let me know if there’s any the Captain and I can do to help.

Hinamori: I hope you’re okay

__________________________________

Shiro-chan: I’m sorry, I only just saw your messages.

Shiro-chan: I’m fine.

Hinamori: Thank goodness! I was trying to find time to come over and see you.

Shiro-chan: You don’t have to, it sounds like you have a lot happening.

Hinamori: It feels disrespectful to text you about what happened.

Shiro-chan: We don’t have to discuss it now.

Hinamori: If you’re sure.

Shiro-chan: I really am fine. I’m focused on training my zanjutsu right now.

Hinamori: I’m glad to read that. Please let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.

Shiro-chan: There’s no need, but thank you. I need to get back to training soon.

Hinamori: Do your best!

__________________________________

Hinamori: Hey, Shiro-chan, are you awake right now?

Shiro-chan: It’s Captain Hitsugaya.

Shiro-chan: Why are you still up?

Hinamori: I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have sent anything. Please ignore my message.

Shiro-chan: It’s fine. Why did you text me?

Shiro-chan: You’re breaking the ‘texting rules’, Hinamori. Are you still there?

Hinamori: Haha, sorry. I guess it’s no use.

Shiro-chan: Why are you up?

Hinamori: It’s hard to sleep right now.

Hinamori: It’s strange, I just remembered were planning to visit the Junrinan on June 14. That was three days ago…I almost feels like I jinx us by suggesting it.

Shiro-chan: Don’t be silly, that had nothing to do with the invasion.

Hinamori: I know you’re right. I guess I’m trying to make sense of all of this. So much has happened.

Hinamori:I just can’t help but be vigilant.

Shiro-chan: It’s understandable, but you need your sleep.

Hinamori:The Quincy could show up at any moment. Don’t you think about it too?

Shiro-chan: Yes.

Hinamori: Is that why you’re up too?

Shiro-chan: It’s mainly paperwork.

Hinamori: Why are doing paperwork at this hour?

Shiro-chan: It needs to be done. We’re falling behind.

Hinamori: …Do you need some help with it?

Shiro-chan: You should sleep.

Hinamori: You should too, but it looks like neither of us are going to.

Shiro-chan: You don’t have to help.

Hinamori: I want to.

Hinamori: I can be over there in 20 minutes.

Shiro-chan: Only if you’re sure.

__________________________________

Hinamori: Thanks for walking me back!

Hitsugaya: Why are you texting? You should be asleep now!

Hinamori: I’m about to go, just wanted to thank you.

Hinamori: And also thank you for the tea and for hearing me out too, I think both helped to calm me down a little.

Hitsugaya: It’s not a problem. Thank you for helping with the reports, I can help with some of yours.

Hinamori: There’s no need. Good night! (*^▽^*)

Hitsugaya: Goodnight, Hinamori.

__________________________________

Shiro-chan: I had to get a new denreishinki, my last one was broken at some point during one of the battles in the war.

Hinamori: Shiro-chan! That’s a shame, now you don’t have our text history! ╥﹏╥

Shiro-chan: It’s not a big deal.

Hinamori: I guess not, but I like to look back and have memories of those times.

Shiro-chan: We didn’t really text that much, so the history wouldn’t be that extensive.

Shiro-chan: I think I can understand, even so. I no longer have that picture you took.

Hinamori: You mean the one of Rangiku-san and I?

Hinamori: Here!

Shiro-chan: Thanks.

Hinamori: I didn't realise you liked it (´• ω •`)

Shiro-chan: It's not a bad picture. I was used to having it there on my denreishinki, I guess.

Hinamori: That's so sweet, Shiro-chan! (≧▽≦)

Shiro-chan: Captain Hitsugaya!

Hinamori: We should take a picture together too (●'◡'●) If you want to, that is.

Shiro-chan: I'll think about it. As is, we won't have time right now.

Hinamori: How have you been?

Shiro-chan: Busy with planning the reconstruction of the districts under our jurisdiction.

Hinamori: Same here, its so much work.

Hinamori: I guess we won’t be seeing each other for a while.

Shiro-chan: Yes.

Hinamori: Good thing we started texting before all of this!

Shiro-chan: It is proving to have it’s uses.

Hinamori: See! I told you you’d come around! ^_^

#hitsuhina #toshiro hitsugaya #momo hinamori #fanfiction #bleach #fluff and sappiness #the ending felt natural so I ended it where I did #but I'm thinking of doing a part 2 for this

[thegreatcaptainusopp]

The Seer

Ao3 Link

Prologue, Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10

Epilogue: The Pirates Are Coming

They drop Ace off at Sabaody.

Most of their guests disperse the instant they dock. Buggy had, according to Nami, found a crew of his own and stolen another ship back at Marineford. The Baroque Works group leave together except for Bon Clay, who joins Ivankov, excited and starry-eyed.

“We have work to do,” Ivankov had said, deliberately mysterious. “I’ll see you, Straw Hat. I guarantee it.”

Luffy, not opposed to the idea, had nodded with a grin. “Sure! See you around.”

Jinbe had stepped off too, face solemn but reassuring. “Any family of Ace is family of mine,” He’d boomed out, giving Luffy a very sincere handshake that made him flop up and down. “It’s been an honor to fight by your side. I hope to see you again very soon.”

Ace, though. Ace hadn’t left the instant they docked at Sabaody. He hadn’t emerged from the medical bay since they’d brought him on, to Chopper’s worried glances and whispered concern.

Luffy hadn’t been worried, though. Not really.

“He’ll be okay,” He’d repeated, over and over again on their journey to Sabaody. “He’s Ace. He just needs some time.”

And, well, if he needed Luffy to sit with him and talk for hours, he could do that too. And he did.

That’s why Luffy wasn’t surprised when, a few minutes after their last guest had departed, Ace had stepped out the medical bay and onto the deck.

The crew goes silent, stepping back to the side to give him and Luffy some room. Ace has dark circles under his eyes, like he hasn’t slept at all during the journey. His shoulders are slumped, his mouth pulled into a thin line.

His eyes, though, are fiery with promise.

“Hey, Luffy,” He says. “Let me off here, okay? I have work to do too.”

Luffy hops over to him. “You don’t wanna stay with us?” He asks, vaguely hopeful.

Ace flashes a smile like it’s a gift just for him. “Nah,” He says. “I have things I need to do. Just like you do. We’ll meet up again though, okay? I promise. Just…reach out whenever you need me.”

“You too!” Luffy says, putting his hand up behind his hatless head, answering grin on his face. “I can save you too, you know.”

Ace gives a small laugh. “I guess you can,” He says. “You’re all grown up now.”

Luffy’s grin dims slightly. “Hey…what’re you going to do now? Where do you want to go?”

Ace looks out into the island, thoughtful. “I want Whitebeard’s memory to live on,” He says. “I want to keep his family together. I want to find everyone who’s still left, and rebuild. And together, we’ll decide what that means.” He looks back at him. “You know, the offer’s always open. I know you and your crew won’t take it, but it’s still always open.”

“I know,” Luffy says. Like a reflex, he jumps towards Ace, throwing his arms around him. “Promise I’ll see you soon?”

Ace hugs him back just as hard. “Promise,” He says. He gives him a tight squeeze once, twice, before distangling himself and stepping back. “Hey. I have another Vivre card for you. Take it, okay? I’ll feel better if you know how to find me.”

Luffy reaches out and takes the piece of paper. “Yay! Thanks!”

Ace looks up at him with a faint smile and a nod He looks like Luffy’s big brother. But he looks like more than that, too.

“Okay,” He says, stepping back. “I’ll be heading out from here. Rebuilding. I’ll see you around,” Here, he looks to the rest of the crew. “All of you. Continue looking after my brother for me, will you?”

They all chime in with various versions of yes, of course, and Ace’s eyes land on Usopp and stay there.

“Usopp,” He says. Usopp’s head snaps to Ace’s general direction, looking bewildered. “You helped me, huh? You warned Luffy about something? I think I owe you my life.”

Usopp’s hand travels back up to Hat. “No,” He says. “I just…I just spoke, is all. Everyone else did the heavy lifting.”

Ace’s smile crinkles his eyes. “It’s true that I owe you all my life,” He says. “But I mean it. Thank you.”

Usopp worries at Hat’s rim. “Don’t mention it,” He says.

Ace turns back towards the dock. “Alright,” He says. “I’m heading out. See you all on the other side.”

And with a final wave, he’s gone.

-

“Are you sure, Luffy?” Nami asks sourly as they trudge through the island.

“Um,” Luffy says, scratching at his head. “I think so? This was the direction we were going down when we saw old man Raleigh.”

“No it wasn’t,” Zoro mutters.

Everyone ignores him.

“Hey, Chopper,” Usopp grumbles, hanging onto Franky’s wrist. “When can I get these bandages off? They itch.”

“Just for a bit longer,” Chopper pipes up, bouncing around near Robin. “We need to make sure everything’s healed up before we move on to the next stage.”

Usopp tugs onto the bandages. “How much longer?”

“Stop playing with that!” Chopper snaps. “Soon. We can replace them with sunglasses for some extra protection first.”

“Yohohoho!” Brook exclaims. “We should get you something to assist with your walking as well!”

Usopp sighs. “Yeah,” He says. “That’s probably a good idea.”

“Hey,” Luffy says, looking around the clearing they were in. “Does this look right to you? Is this the right direction?”

“Yeah,” Sanji says.

“No!” Zoro snaps.

Luffy laughs. The sun feels really good on his face. “Let’s keep going,” He says. “Maybe we should just yell his name til he shows up.”

“Hey, Luffy?”

Luffy blinks, then turns to see Franky and Usopp right behind him. “Oh! Hi!”

Usopp lets go of Franky and reaches out cautiously to grasp Luffy’s shoulder. “Hey,” He says again, as they keep walking. “We had a deal.”

A smile spreads across Luffy’s face. “Oh, yeah!” he says. “We did!”

“So,” Usopp says, and takes off Hat. “I think I have something that belongs to yo-”

They’re interrupted by some more yohohohoing. “Friends!” Brook says, skipping a few steps before pulling out his violin. “I say this calls for some music!”

“Hey…” Usopp says, nervous. “What’s..”

“BROOK!” Zoro yells.

Brook jumps, interrupting the music. “Wha-”

A hulking figure appears right behind Brook, Luffy’s eyes widen-

And then, Brook vanishes.

It happens so abruptly that Luffy can’t tell what he’s seeing at first. One second he’s there, and the next, gone. The first notes of Bink’s Sake are still floating in the air.

And right behind where Brook had once been stands Bartholomew Kuma, arm extended, face completely blank.

Nami screams.

Luffy barely hears her over the pounding in his ears. “Brook?” He asks. It leaves his mouth in a whisper.

Zoro roars, snapping Luffy out of his stupor.

“What did you do?” Sanji yells.

Kuma reaches into his pocket, and slides something onto his palm. He remains silent.

“Hey! You!”

And there’s Franky, arm extended. “Over here!” He yells. “Fight someone your own size!”

Luffy runs before he knew he was moving “Franky!” He yells, fist extended. “Move!”

Franky shoots his arm rocket out, which barely seems to phase Kuma. “Everyone!” Franky yells. “Get-”

Poof.

And then, he’s gone.

“Franky!” Luffy yells again. Two down. He’s two down in seconds.

“Franky!” Chopper screams. He digs through his bag, face terrified but focused.

“You…” Zoro growls, leaping forward. “You…”

Kuma waves his swords aside like they’re nothing. Zoro, caught off balance, falls.

Luffy shoots forwrd, body undulating as his rage takes over. “Hey!” He yells, fist revving up. “Gum gum…pistol!”

His fist bounces off Kuma’s chest, and Kuma’s hand goes up to push him away. He flies back, hitting a tree and collapsing back to the grass. He hears Kuma’s heavy steps get closer.

He hears someone yell “Luffy!” and there’s Robin, screeching to a stop in front of him. He can only see her back, and her arms are crossed in front of her. “Go!”

“No!” Luffy stumbles back to his feet. Hands sprout on and around Kuma, trying to hold him back. “Wait-”

“Robin-Chan!” Sanji screams, running forward.

Kuma waves a hand and Robin gasps, tripping back. She clutches her arms, face screwed up in pain. “Luffy-”

“No! Robin!” Luffy screams, reaching to her, and then-

Poof.

His arm goes through nothing and he crashes back to the ground.

Three down.

“Robin-Chan!” Sanji screams again, like he’s dying. “No!”

“Stop it!” Luffy yells. “Stop!”

His fist rockets out again but hit nothing. Kuma’s vanished, and Luffy looks around frantically for him.

He hears a monstrous groan and whirls back around, only to see a huge, hulking figure appear above the treeline. Kuma stands below, looking up at it placidly.

He hears Nami, barely a whisper: “…Chopper?”

Luffy sucks in a gasp. “Chopper! Don’t…you don’t have to…don’t!”

Chopper roars, monster figure turning towards the sky. He winds up, descending onto Kuma below, who pulls a hand back.

“Chopper!” Luffy screams, running forward, Zoro right in front of him…

Poof.

Chopper’s huge hulking shadow vanishes.

Four down.

Four. It’s just Luffy and four of his crew left.

Luffy’s fist slams into the ground. “That’s enough!” He shouts, feeling a strange echo behind it. Wind whips around his hair. “Gear second!”

Kuma vanishes again, appearing right in front of him, and then-

A rock bounces off Kuma’s head. Then another. Then another.

Kuma pauses, like he’s confused. Luffy takes advantage, shooting forward, fist out-

Again, he hits nothing, and again, he crashes into the grass.

He looks up just in time to see Usopp, arm out and shaking, hand full of small rocks.

“Stop!” Usopp says, firm but trembling. “Stop!”

Kuma halts in front of him. His arm comes up.

“No!” Zoro yells, running forward. Luffy follows suit, heart pounding.

Sanji gets there first.

“Oi!” Sanji yells, jumping between Kuma and Usopp. “I’m gonna kill you!”

“Sanji!” Luffy screams. “Don’t!”

“Cook!” Zoro yells.

“Sanji-” Usopp reaches out, stones dropping from his palm. But Sanji jumps, leg extended, going right for Kuma’s face…

Poof.

Five down.

“Sanji!” Nami screams, and it echoes everywhere in Luffy’s head.

No more. No more.

“Run!” He screams. “Everyone run! Get out of here!”

Kuma’s still in front of Usopp. He takes another step forward.

“Usopp!” Luffy screams. “Turn around! Run!”

Usopp looks to his direction, one hand still clutching Hat. The expression on his face, the turn of his mouth, breaks Luffy.

Zoro runs forward, face crazed. Luffy follows, and there’s something coming off of him in waves, something desperate.

Usopp’s back straightens, and he sticks his trembling chin out, before-

Poof.

Six down.

Zoro roars again. Luffy feels beyond words, beyond sound.

“Nami!” Zoro shouts, and Luffy snaps back to her. She’s closer to him and he instantly shoots to her, before Kuma has a chance to move.

Nami runs, and Luffy follows, desperately trying to shield her. “Go!” He yells. “Keep going!”

Nami shrieks, skidding to a stop, as Kuma appears in front of her. “Luffy!” She screams, hand reaching back. Luffy leaps, reaching back. “Help m-”

Poof.

Seven down.

Luffy’s legs give out. He collapses onto the grass.

“Why?” He gasps. “What are you doing? Why are you doing this?”

Kuma doesn’t answer.

“Luffy!” And there’s Zoro, swords out.

Zoro.

One to go.

It sends a shock up Luffy’s body.

“Zoro!” He yells, struggling up to his feet. “Run!”

Zoro pauses.

“Zoro!” He says. “Captain’s orders! Run!”

Something in Zoro’s jaw jumps. He doesn’t move.

“Zoro!” Luffy screams. “Listen to me!”

“Shit!” Zoro swears, then turns. He moves, but his swords are still out. “Luffy! Don’t make me do this agai-”

And there’s Kuma with his arm and there’s Zoro with his swords and there’s the arm coming down and there’s Zoro’s fighting stance, ready to go swinging…

Luffy doesn’t make it in time.

“Zoro!”

Poof.

All down.

Luffy legs give out again. This time, he can’t get back up.

He should feel something. Anything. But he’s just…numb.

He sees a shadow loom over them. It doesn’t really register.

“Why,” He whispers. “Why…what…why…”

The shadow gets darker.

“You’re not ready,” A voice mutters above his head. “You had to see. You’re not ready. This will make you ready.”

The words don’t make sense.

“I…” Luffy says. “I…I couldn’t save any of them. Not one. Not a single one.”

“Exactly,” the voice says. “You’re not ready.”

The feelings come back full force. Luffy struggles back to his knees, barely functional. He keens, tears flying from his face, limbs flopping uselessly.

“My…” He gasps. “They’re all…they’re all…”

“Monkey D. Luffy,” The voice rings out. “We will not meet again. Goodbye.”

Luffy’s world goes black.

#one piece #op #usopp #monkey d luffy #speaks #one piece fic #op fic

[haledamage]

Bonus! Inhale for Qora/Arcann :3

[ INHALE ]: while standing in very close quarters to the receiver, the sender shakily inhales with desire/anticipation as they realize how intimately close they are to one another.

Today is a lovely day for some Arcann angst! And also Arcann fluff, because he deserves it. This ties directly into For What It’s Worth (for those who haven’t read it or want a refresh and want to skip ahead to the scene it pertains to, it starts with the line “He isn’t surprised to find her in his dreams that night.”) 

sometime shortly after KotET and Unmasked Regret! that’s right, we’ve got actual in-relationship Qora/Arcann this time :3 vague mentions of past abuse

---

The tension was palpable as Qora and Arcann waited for the elevator to make its way all the way to the base of the tower where they stood. It pressed in around them, heavy and oppressive, and made even Qora hesitate to break the silence.

It lingered after they stepped onto the platform and it started its ascent, until finally she couldn’t take it anymore. “Are you sure about this, Arcann? We don’t have to do this, you know.”

“Yes, we do.” He sounded almost serene, and she might’ve bought it if she couldn’t feel the twisting storm of emotions underneath the calm surface. “I do.”

The rest of her argument died before she could give it voice. They both knew she wouldn't make him do this alone.

“There’s no telling what Vaylin did while you were gone,” she warned anyway, as gently as possible.

“I know. But I need to see it for myself,” he insisted. He glanced in her direction, a small smile lifting one corner of his lips. “Besides… you’re the Empress now. Don’t you want to see your palace?”

“‘Empress’ me again and see where it gets you,” Qora said sourly, with an equally sour grimace.

The low, warm chuckle Arcann gave her in response was almost worth putting up with the title. If only for a little while.

The elevator doors opened unceremoniously into a long, empty hallway. The walls were white and bare of any adornment except for three identical doors, one on each wall and one at the end.

Part of her remembered this hall, even if she’d never been there before. She’d dreamed about it, children sneaking from one room to another, the thrill of staying up past curfew and testing the bounds of what they could get away with. Happier times.

The room at the far end was Vaylin’s. A room to keep her always a bit removed from her brothers, disguised as a place of honor. To the east was Thexan’s room, with windows that faced Zakuul’s sunrise. It had long sat dormant, untouched since his death, exactly as he’d left it. And to the right…

Arcann had gone ahead while she lingered by the elevator, but he waited for her outside the door that she knew led to his room. The turmoil she felt from him downstairs was even worse now, strong enough that she could barely tell her emotions from his anymore. Pain, fear, regret, guilt.

Which would be worse to find on the other side of the door? Destruction left by his sister’s petulant wrath, or an untouched memorial like his brother’s room?

I shouldn’t be here. I should never have come back.

Wordlessly, Qora stepped up to his side. When she slipped her hand into his, his doubts went abruptly silent.

Before he could talk himself out of it, Arcann opened the door and pulled her into the room with him.

The feeling of deja vu was even stronger here than it had been in the hall. This was a room Qora was intensely, intimately familiar with. 

She had spent dozens of nights here, in Force-given lucid dreams she shared with Arcann. Pacing the living space, judging his taste in decor, deliberately pushing his buttons in an effort to understand him.

When she looked back at the last few years, it wasn't the war that came to mind first. It was this. This place. Years of the two of them drawing lines in the sand and taunting the other to cross them until they found themselves unexpectedly meeting in the middle.

It looked exactly as she remembered it. White, silver, and black, not a speck of color or luxury to be found. Stark, utilitarian, impersonal. Cold. More of a prison cell than a bedroom, belonging to a man who had been raised to believe sentimentality and comfort were punishable offenses.

Barely conscious of what she was doing, Qora crossed the room to the table by the bed, and picked up Thexan's lightsaber.

A few seconds later, Arcann joined her. He carefully took the hilt when she held it out to him, turning it slowly in his hand. "This doesn't feel real," he murmured, echoing her own thoughts.

"It was always real." She stepped away, restless energy pulling her back toward the center of the room. Looking for something, but she didn't know what yet. "I tried to pretend it wasn't, but I was lying."

Arcann hummed an agreement, which melted into a dry, humorless laugh as understanding curled through their bond. "If it wasn't real, then nothing that happened there mattered. Anything we said or… did, didn't have to change anything when we woke up."

That little pause before did got Qora's attention, but she didn't comment. She would have, once upon a time, but she didn't feel the need to anymore. She trusted that he'd tell her in his own time.

So much had changed since then.

"Do you remember the last time we were here together?" The gentle rumble of Arcann's voice came from right behind her, likely following the same impulse she was.

When she spun around to face him, he wasn't looking at her. His gaze was locked on the wall behind her. It was obvious where his mind was.

Qora’s thoughts were drawn to the same place, the same memory. The night after the battle on--and destruction of--Asylum. He’d come very close to killing her that day, closer than she’d ever admitted. But afterwards, in the dreamspace they sometimes shared, the lines between “friend” and “enemy” could get blurred and become… something else entirely.

She remembered Arcann, unmasked for the first time since they'd met. The anger simmering in his golden eyes, not quite strong enough to hide the fragile uncertainty underneath. The way that rage had cooled, just for a moment, when she touched him. The warmth of his skin as she traced the ridges of scars he’d never let anyone else see.

A moment of understanding, of connection, of vulnerability. She'd thought she was finally getting through to him.

Arcann, take your mask off. I’m tired of talking to it. I want to talk to you.

I do not want your pity, Qora.

Is that what you feel from me? Pity?

And then everything had gone wrong. In a blink, they were enemies again. It had taken the better part of the next year just to claw her way back to where they’d started.

Qora wasn’t aware she was moving until her hand settled against Arcann’s cheek, the durasteel of her prosthetic cool against his skin. Synthetic nerves let her feel the ridges of his scars just as she had that night--though she was quite a bit more familiar with them now.

He leaned into her touch, finally turning away from the wall. His eyes were pale blue instead of the golden orange of her memory; less fragile, less uncertain, no longer angry and full of something almost approaching contentment.

“Sometimes I wonder…” he spoke so quietly that Qora had to step closer to hear him properly, “how things might have been different, if I’d made another choice that night.”

“What other choice?” She'd asked herself that question so many times, and still hadn't found a satisfying answer.

Arcann looked behind her at the wall again, unwilling to meet her eyes anymore--though he didn’t otherwise pull away from her. “I’m… not sure.” His brow furrowed as he got lost in thought, and Qora automatically brushed her thumb over it to soothe it away. “Everything I felt about you then was… tangled up. Hatred, jealousy, desire… I couldn’t tell where one ended and the next began.”

Saying ‘I know’ felt trite, even if it was the truth. She knew it all too well, the fear that had been beaten into both of them under the guise of "training", the suspicion that every kindness hid a new cruelty, that an offered hand held the sharpest knife. Spend enough time in darkness and you’ll become afraid of the light.

What she said instead was, “I understand.” It didn’t feel like enough either.

“What I do know…” his breath hitched with a sharp, shaky inhale, as her other hand settled on his unscarred cheek, cradling his face between her hands, “is that no one had ever touched me like you did. Like I was something special. Something worthy. Part of me would have done anything you wanted if it meant you would keep doing so.”

“It wouldn’t have taken much. I’ve never been any good at keeping my hands to myself, where you’re concerned.” Qora’s voice fell short of her attempt at levity, coming out too quiet and too sincere.

It was still enough to draw a smile from Arcann. “I don’t mind. I never have.”

His arms curled slowly around her waist, drawing her in and closing what little space still remained between them. His smile grew wider and just a little playful; she was too distracted by the lovely sight of it to recognize it as the warning it was.

“Besides,” if his smile was playful, his voice was downright teasing, “what else could I possibly offer you? I’ve already given you my Empire.”

All Qora managed was an indignant squawk before Arcann interrupted her with a kiss, his laughter warm and sweet against her lips.

#rhi writes #qora rhiannon #qora/arcann #I was tempted to add a bit with her complaining about his uncomfortable bed for Old Times Sake #but I wanted it to stay sweet and if they went anywhere near that bed this was gonna get spicy real fast XD #I wrote a thing! I’m so happy to finish something I feel like it’s been ages

[k-s-morgan]

Hi! I have another question about Hannibal.

Actually, I have several of them, but it's probably hard for you to answer many at once.

Where do you think Hannibal took Will after they left the Ufizzi Gallery? Hannibal took him straight to Soliato to kill him there? After all, he had everything ready there by that time. I'm just wondering what he would have done if Will hadn't pulled out the knife. Would they walk around Florence? Would Hannibal have deliberately dragged his time to be stopped?

The decision to kill Will seems to have already been made, but if Will had behaved sweetly, like a truly forgiving person, would Hannibal have killed him?

Hello again!

Yes, Hannibal definitely took Will straight to Soliato's apartment - Will was hurt as soon as they walked out of the gallery, and we can see that he was increasingly in pain, with Hannibal rushing to take care of his wound. Also, how interesting it is that Chiyoh chose to deliver a non-lethal shot? She's crept out by Will, she cares about Hannibal and sees that Will is about to attack him, yet she still decides against killing him. Because even without seeing them interact, she knows how much Hannibal must love him: Will’s appearance in Lithuania confirmed it to her.

Initially, in the script, Hannibal also had to have a knife that he had to pull out. I’m glad this didn't happen because I feel like it would be OOC. Hannibal is never the first one to attack Will - even in S1, when their relationship is at its developing vague stages, Hannibal is pushed to frame him only after Will refuses to listen and endangers him. This pattern of behavior is repeated over and over again, so I don’t see why Dolce would be different. And while he was expecting the possibility of being attacked, I doubt Hannibal would engage in a knife fight with Will, this wouldn’t be their style.

I agree with Mads, who said this:

If Will were to see and join Hannibal in Dolce, Hannibal wouldn't have attacked him. At that moment, he felt desperate.

Hannibal might have anticipated that something would go wrong with Will, preparing for his murder in advance, but I don't think he was dedicated to this idea, not at all. If Will accepted him, them, then yes, I believe they would have walked around Florence, talking and planning, at first hesitantly, then more boldly. They would have probably ended up running away together, and who knows, maybe things would have worked out for them even at that stage.

But Will pulled out the knife. I don’t think he’d have succeeded in killing Hannibal - I always read this as his half-suicidal attempt, but to Hannibal, it was another confirmation that they have no future because Will cannot accept them. He felt desperate, like Mads said - he felt like he can’t let Will go, that he needs him in any way he can have him, even if it means killing and consuming him, like he did with Misha.

#hannibal #hannigram #will graham #hannibal lecter #dolce #season 3

[the-consortium]

Dramatis Personae

Foreword to this blog

I am surprisingly fond of Fabius. An unwieldy character who is allowed by his main author to fail spectacularly and still grow. He's one of the few standout Warhammer protagonists who undergoes any real development. And of course he's a fucking sarcastic, egomaniacal asshole. Completely justifiably hated by his countless enemies (most of them his brothers) and often by his very few friends. A synonym for indifferent cruelty and ruthlessness in achieving his goals. But one thing he is never - boring!

So here now is my look through his eyes (and through those of his consortium) at the dark world of … hmmm … probably not 41st millennium. I'm deliberately keeping the time vague so I can use all the characters I want. I mix times (I want Saqqara to have a Keeper of Secrets in the bottle already! That's too funny!) and use as a location the crummy Crone World, where the Consortium was reasonably comfortable at its best - so ignore quite a few events then. Otherwise I stay as close to the canon as possible. Fortunately, the lore is vague and full of holes, so I have room to spread out. In this attached post I will gradually introduce the protagonists so that people who have not yet read the Fabius Trilogy know who these people are.

Lieutenant Commander Fabius Bile The Clonelord, vehement atheist and constantly angry at his gene sire and his brothers - while just as constantly helping them out and being dependant on them. It's complicated. He is using cloned bodies to avoid the effects of something that may look like the Blight that nearly wiped out the Third Legion before Fulgrim was found. But it isn't - it's something entirely different. When he starts using a body he looks like a "more vulpine" (his words) version of Fulgrim.

The Chirurgeon Designed by Fabius to help him with his work, the Chirurgeon has developed some kind of consciousness over the many centuries in the Eye of Terror and is even sometimes sneaking off to hunt serfs for sport and to reproduce. Yes, there are baby-Chirurgeons somewhere and they are dangerous.

Saqqara Ur-Damak Thresh A Word Bearers Diabolist, sent to assassinate Fabius. Got caught and Fabius implantet a bomb into his chest that will go off if the Clonelord dies a permanent death. Saqqara acts as Fabius' bodyguard against threats from the Warp and is constantly trying to bring the light of the Gods to his employer/captor. Waldorf to Arrian's Statler. Hated by Fabius' brothers, because slaaneshi (and every other) demons love him and are drawn to him. (he normally shaves his head and has black hair. This is just him being edgy)

Arrian Zorzi The World Eaters no longer need Apothecaries, so Arrian left his brothers behind and joined the Consortium. He's the only Astartes of the 12th Legion able to suppress the influence of the nails with a selfmade concoction. He killed his squad way back on Terra and is carrying their skulls with him - and talking to them. And they answer. He's Fabius' bodyguard against physical threats and hates Khorne with a passion - which may be a bit ironic. He loves arguing with Saqqara for reasons entirely his own.

Oleander Koh Terran Emperor's Children Apothecary and one of Fabius' star pupils. He fancies himself a gifted politician and diplomat, but he's mostly wrong. He really wants the Third Legion to rise to glory again and works to unite the bickering warlords and to motivate the unwilling Fabius to take up the mantle of leadership. He spents a significant part of his time away from the Consortium to pursue his own goals.

Khorag Sinj and Paz'uz Blessed by Nurgle the Death Guard no longer has need for Apothecaries. But Khorag wanted to continue pursuing his craft and expand his knowledge, so he left his Legion and joined the Consortium to act as Fabius' specialist for poisons and handcrafted viruses. With him came Paz'uz - the grace of Nurgle manifest. A rather friendly, playful, yet deadly demon-"dog".

Herik Stymphalos An Emperor's Children Apothecary Herik got obsessed with avian creatures way before the desaster on Terra. At first he experimented on prisoners to produce winged humans, but then he expanded his scientific field by giving himself wings, too. He is still losely affliated with the Consortium and is still conducting experiments for and with Fabius, but most of his time is spent on the backwater planet of Holvall in his giant aviary. Doing bird-stuff.

The Venerable Diomat Chaos Contemptor Dreadnought of the 12th Milennial. Now serving the Chief Apothecary. Very aggressive and senile, he is kept asleep most of the time. For some reason he really likes Fabius.

Duco A Night Lords Apothecary tasked with most of the search-and-destroy-stuff that sometimes comes up. As with a lot of his brothers he isn't the most approachable person. He likes to hang out with Herik, because they both have a kind of outsider view on the Consortium.

(Will be continued)

#Warhammer #RP #About The Consortium #Fabius Bile #Emperor's Children #Apothecary

[rikeijo]

Today's translation #96

Yuri!!! on Life

Sayo Yamamoto x Mitsurou Kubo conversation

Part 18.

Interviewer: Had everything been already decided when you were drawing the storyboards?

K: Everything had been already decided, even the place each character would be in after each SP and FS. The order in which each character skated etc., too. We didn't really think that we want to change a lot [in the anime, compared to the storyboards] because we were creating the story, while thinking about it in this reverse order - how to make a story in which those settings we had already decided on, will be put to a good use. Because of this we had to make sure that the skaters, who would stay with us until the Grand Prix Final, were to our viewers characters they really care for. And so, because we had decided who would participate in the GPF, I was drawing the storyboards, while thinking that I'd really want everyone to like Chris, JJ and Pitchit, and also to, please, like Otabek, who appeared when the story has already progressed quite far.

Interviewer: Was it a deliberate decision to show Yurio's competitions in the later part of the anime?

K: Well, the first part of the story was about Victor and Yuuri mainly, so I included only little bits of Yurio's story there, because the "Yurio angle" of the story is also so incredibly charming, that if we included more of him, then the viewers' attention would get too sidetracked. So we engineered the story in such a way that viewers could first get to like Yuuri and Victor, and the sense of anticipation of what the two of them can do would be something that you just couldn't miss in this story.

Interviewer: Since when have you been thinking about making Yurio and Otabek friends?

K: I have been thinking about it since almost the beginning of the story, but I haven't really thought about how they would become friends, and like that I have reached episode 10. When I was discussing the "so how should they become friends, hmm?" thing with the director, I think we started to talk that "maybe he should, for example, sweep him away in a car, and that's how they would become friends?"… (laugh). Director, what can you say about Otabek's appearance in the story?

Y: I'm mean, it's Kazakhstan! It's a country you can't ignore, if we are talking about men's figure skating.

K: Oh yes. Another thing is that if we gave all the time in the Grand Prix to characters, whose SP and FS we had already shown once, then there would be no new program to show [during the GPF]. That's why we thought that it would be better to have a new program to show in the Final for the first time, and so we were thinking to give this role to Otabek. So yeah, we decided vaguely that we were going to make Yurio and Otabek become friends, but not really how we would do it...

[Notes: Still two parts of the interview left!

Like always, if you have any request about what you would like to read next, don't hesitate to contact me ✨ Like, e.g. another Sayo interview or Mitsurou interview? Another member of staff interview? (Hiramatsu-san or Otsuka Manabu? I'm not a fan of Jp VAs... But if somebody wants to read their interviews, I have a bunch of those too 🌻）Maybe something about the music, choreography, costumes?

Also, a lot of people followed me in the last few days (exodus from Twitter maybe?)~ Hi to everyone and thank you for looking at my translations!! 💜 ]

#yuri on ice #yoi translations #yuri on ice translation

[limetameta]

riza flame alchemist au where she doesn't show roy the tattoos but teaches the alchemy to herself lmao

Kimblee: Major Armstrong left the front lines. Are you inclined to follow? Most people here think it's atrocious for a woman to go through this. Oh the atrocities. Everyone here is acting like they didn't know what they were signing up for when they put on the uniform.

Riza: I'm numb to the atrocities, if I'm being honest.

Kimblee, intrigued: Oh? Just numb? How did you manage this? I've never tried that. Seems like it might take too much effort on my part to numb myself when clearly I take pride in my work here. My alchemy is flourishing. As is yours, isn't it?

Riza, shrugging: I mean, objectively speaking I'm well aware what we're doing is terrible from a moral standpoint. And I don't think I'll ever be able to stomach the smell of barbecue, but... *vague hand gesticulation* I can't find it in me to cry or gloat about it. I'm numb. My alchemy is progressing, but I can't find it in me to care.

Kimblee: I suppose it might all catch up with you when you come back.

Riza, shrugging: I don't think so. If my father's death didn't catch up with me in all these years, I don't think this will either.

Kimblee, inching to sit closer to her: Major Hawkeye, really, you continue to intrigue.

Riza: I mean, out of the two of us - I don't feel threatened by you.

Kimblee: Well, of course not! We're comrades.

Riza: No, not that. I know I'm the quicker draw and by the time your palms connected you'd be on fire. So, I feel very comfortable talking to you. I feel like I can tell you many things I wouldn't be able to tell anyone else. Mainly because I know you can't tell them to anyone else.

Kimblee, awkwardly laughing: How quaint! I feel comfortable talking to you, but now much less when I know you've detailed my demise.

Riza: Don't take it personally, please. It's just that you're a very open individual and you manage to draw out things out of people that normally they wouldn't tell you.

Kimblee: Should I treat that as a compliment?

Riza: That's up to you. I'd find it annoying. I can rarely stomach talking to others. Everyone just wants to talk about the war and what they have waiting for them when the war finishes.

Kimblee: You don't have anyone waiting for you?

Riza: I have my Academy roommate, but nobody else, no.

Kimblee: You and Private Mustang are friendly enough.

Riza, scowling: He was my father's apprentice. I had a crush on him as a child. He's still stuck in that time when I can't move away from it fast enough. He was supposed to be the Flame Alchemist, you know.

Kimblee: How intriguing. Mustang would have lamented about his woes every chance he got if he became the Flame Alchemist. I'd rather work with you.

Riza, nodding.

Kimblee: I see. Well, look forward to the things laying ahead, then. And don't focus on ruminating on the scars of your past.

A laugh bubbles out of Riza.

Kimblee stops dead in his tracks. Riza Hawkeye never laughs.

Riza: Scars of my past is a really funny way of putting it. I can't wear a backless dress because of the scars of my past. Ha! *then an idea* Come along, Major, let me show you.

Riza shows Kimblee her completely scarred back.

Kimblee, no filter on him: Did your father really use you as a sheet of paper?

Riza, laughing again: I think you're the first person who phrased it like that. He, did, didn't he? *fanning her hand away and putting her shirt back on* I mean I'm the one who burnt my back. Deliberately. It's just one giant scar. I could have died from the shock. My life has never really mattered to me. Does your life matter to you?

Kimblee, thinking about it: I suppose, yes? If I get killed I wouldn't be against it because it was clearly meant to happen. But clearly I won't want to lay down and let anyone kill me. I'll fight for my life.

Riza, nodding: I can understand that. *thinking about the sheet of paper comment* *wheezing* Oh that was so funny, Major Kimblee, truly.

Kimblee just shrugging. I mean really what do you say to that?

#riza flame alchemist au #riza hawkeye #solf j. kimblee #fmab

[yourneighborhoodneighbor]

black cat and his kittens ch10

(masterpost to my fics while ao3 is down) AO3

fic under the cut

previous chapter

The rest of their morning with class 1A had gone decently well. The class had had the decency to mostly hold off on too insensitive questions and had quickly left the whole quirks thing alone, though the copycat guy retained a slight pout at not having guessed a single one. They´d, barr Izu, then played hide and seek, and then a couple rounds of sardine because Shouto liked that one. Pizza had been baked from scratch (and wasn´t it funny as fuck to see everyone´s faces upon realizing Katsuki was a great cook?) and then Katsuki and his family had left for an afternoon nap. Sunday afternoons were for sleeping and homework, after all.

It was now the next friday and Katsuki was taking his shift at the cafe with Masaru, a nice quirkless man who legally only worked at their cafe, and illegally made gear, uniforms and support items for vigilantes, which was how they'd met in the first place. The man was nice and at this point a close and trusted friend of the family, him having been homeless and barely getting by with his gear for vigilantes when dad had first met him, which was how he'd ended up working at the cafe and living a couple blocks over.

“Say, Masaru, what do you think of us apparently going to hang out with the UA class every weekend now?” Katsuki asked the man as he added cut up chunks of cold butter to the dry ingredientes of his soon-to-be-dough for almond cookies.

The serene man looked up from where he was making a hot chocolate for a customer and hummed.

“Well, what is the reason you're going to be hanging out with them?” he threw back after some deliberation. He knew Katsuki wasn't just asking for his opinion, he had some problem he needed help resolving.

Katsuki squeezed the forming dough between his fingers, seemingly making a mess, before regrouping the whole thing and doing it again.

“Dad… the other day, when Izu got hurt” a hard squeeze at the dough “we went to UA right? And some of the others, the hero course kids, they saw dad. So apparently Chizome texted him, and Nedzu, because nothing happens at the school without the overlord knowing, and asked what the fuck they'd do now.”

He stopped for a second, continuing with his squeeze-regroup process while Masaru called the hot chocolate to be picked up. Masaru came back and nodded at the teenager to continue.

“Apparently, that was the first time in seven fucking years first years have seen any of the `UA vigilantes´, so there wasn't a fucking protocol on how to proceed, not to mention the fact that we were there. I mean, did they tell the students? Ignore the situation entirely? Move dad´s class to first year instead of third? All kinds of fucking hazards and shit, so they had to think about it. And Nedzu, he says `Oh Shouta, why don't your children befriend the students?´” for this part he put on a high pitched voice, making Masau smile slightly.

“Like that's some fucking idea, and of course dad says yes, after thinking about it, mind you, man´s not an idiot, because outside of Eijiro -shut up, not talking about that- we don't really have any friends our age, because...” he gestured vaguely and paused his ranting, turning to get wax paper and make four packets of the dough, putting them in the fridge to rest.

He turned back around and sighed, resting against the counter, arms crossed.

“I´m not saying they are bad, or that it's a bad idea right off the bat, it's just…” he tilted his head, hesitating.

“You're worried they will be like others and hurt you and your brothers?” Masaru gently offered after it seemed like Katsuki wouldn't say anymore.

The teen in front of him furrowed his brow, clenching his fists, before turning around and getting a rag and some spray to clean the counter.

“Any of us could beat any of them, heck, all of them, in a fight,” he wiped particularly hard at a specific spot, going silent again.

“But it's not physical harm that you're really afraid of, is it” the adult nudged on again.

“I just- there's this guy, Tensei´s little brother? I'm not sure he wouldn't… do something. I don't like the way he looks at us. And the class respects him,” the class follows him, goes unsaid, if he were to turn against us, would they?, “and Izu is pretty nervous, and while none of them sideyed him or Toshi yet, who's to say they won't? And I know people tend to be intimidated by me, heck, half of it is on purpose, but that's just more reason to attack, you know. Could even call it self defense or something.”

“And I don't want that! I can't let any of them get hurt! Izuku is already so nervous, and I won't let anything happen to them! I won't!” His last exclamation was punctuated by a fist hitting his own head and then pulling on his hair.

Masaru acted immediately, approaching Katsuki with his hands up in a placating manner and softly but firmly taking both of his wrists in his hands, and away from further harm to himself. Once he'd gotten both the teen´s hands down by his sides, he gave a gentle squeeze as an indication to keep them there, then let go, stopping the short contact that had been agreed upon before for situations like this one. He took half a step back to give the other space but still be close by, and slowly opened his arms, in invitation, this time.

After only some brief deliberation, the red-eyed teen accepted and walked into the hug, shaking and breathing heavily.

“Who do you want me to call?” Masaru whispered after a while. He was grateful, once again, that the usual patrons of the cafe knew that sometimes, even during open hours, service was not offered. And those who didn't know quickly learned. So he wasn't worried about attending to anyone other than Katsuki right now.

“Up” was the only word said teen managed to get out. Masaru nodded, walking the blond upstairs, to his home and the rest of his family.

_________________________________________________

It had taken a while for Tenko to calm his younger brother down, but after much cuddling, running his fingers through blond hair and a conversation to help settle the younger teen, it had been managed.

Tenko had brought it up with dad after he had come back from his friday class with the UA third years, leaving Katsuki with Izuku to cuddle on the couch, while Shouto and Hitoshi were still out for their turn at their weekly therapy, the the other older siblings accompanying them (and also, Shouta suspected, taking the opportunity to buy ice cream for everyone while unsupervised).

He had gone back out to get all he needed to make spicy ramen for dinner, something he knew Katsuki really liked, and had just finished cooking when the rest of his children had come back, waking the two sleeping teens on the couch with their loud talking and laughter. Now, they were all seated around the table, talking about how the day had been. Shouta waited for a lull in the conversation to talk about going back to UA the next day.

In the end, after some talking about worries and making plans in case anything happened (and lots of cat-pile cuddles, because none of his children had any restraint-), his younger children were appeased enough to go to sleep more calm than they had been before, ready to face the next day and whatever the class 1-A could throw at them.

_________________________________________________

TBC

#bnha #dadzawa #vigilante izuku #class 1a #aizawa shouta #midoriya izuku #katsuki bakugo #todoroki shoto #shinsou hitoshi #fanfiction #my fics #yourneighborhoodneighbor

[redvanillabee]

Quantumania 🐜🐝

Spoilers under cut

Def heed the warning above. I’d compare the ‘flashing lights’ to…a black light party? I’m not exactly photosensitive, but I definitely got a little bit of a headache from the lights.

And the most surprising comeback goes to Darren. That proportion and that butt shot makes him look like if Gudetama is absolutely gross.

I am fascinated by the Quantum Realm imagery. There are lots of deliberate-not-deliberate callbacks to other characters: the red crystals remind me of Wanda. The glass reminds me of Doctor Strange. The desert people remind me of the god killer or whatever he was called from Love and Thunder.

When Kang gives his timeline speech please imagine it’s me talking at marvel about plot holes and continuity issues and dammit are ac aos mcu.

Hank with that ant army. Honestly he's SO. COOL. in that scene.

Looove that Scott got his Cap shield moment.

I am a fan of what seems to be several references to Steve here. The little guy? The shield thing? The self sacrifice move? It’s a yes from me.

The pacing of this one is very old school MCU. Think more…IM2, FFH than Ragnarok, Love and Thunder, Black Widow. I'm quite neutral about it; it's nice.

When Loki came up on the post-credit scene the entire theatre went 'ooooooh!!' which was very exciting. I was thinking that the post-credit for this movie will be an excellent time for Marvel to bring back some old characters, maybe some old Blorbo Blorbus that we haven't seen for some time. Maybe characters from other MCU projects (yes I was waiting for AC/AOS shh). While Loki was not exactly on my list, I am always pleased to see him.

I think it's a fun movie! When they first introduced Scott in the MCU it definitely took a while for me to warm up to him, but now I think he's one of my favourite characters. He's funny without trying too hard with the one-liners, and he's always very sweet and supportive with Cassie. I really like Hope too; she makes sure she's heard and demands answers, which makes me really like her.

My major gripe with recent Marvel has always been that, I just wish they would actually embrace the wild universe they have created. I know they want every movie to possibly serve as someone's entry, but let's be real, if someone is starting MCU now, they know to look through the lore. I am /done/ with vague references of 'oh there is someone who watches the timeline...' 'there are variants...' 'I have killed Avengers...' JUST SAY IT. Nat got killed in other timelines. The Watcher is watching over all of this madness but he has taken an oath to never interfere. There are thousands of Lokis running around. I know they love being vague so they have more leeway with future projects, but dammit as someone who's been watching this universe for years now, I want those to actually be acknowledged.

Overall, I would say this is a fun movie. The Ant-Man trilogy continues to be a funny yet heartwarming series. I hope the MCU will actually embrace its timeline weirdness and multiple universes and canons, and actually namedrop all the loose threads they have left behind.

7/10

#personal #quantumania

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Words: 8,347 Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: the Greene farm Warnings: Language, violence, gore, attempted sexual assault, discussions of trauma, typical TWD A/N: This is Part 1 of the new miniseries! This should be 2 or 3 parts total, and it's kind of intense and a bit dark at certain points so heed the warnings ya'll. Summary: Y/N is considered quiet, standoffish, and even a bit odd by the group, but Daryl knows how much she does around camp to care for everyone. After a traumatic incident while searching for Sophia, Daryl starts to discover why Y/N is the way she is.

Your name: submit What is this?

The group was all sitting around the low campfire, eating some breakfast. The two Greene girls came out with baskets in hand. Beth approached Rick and held hers out. “We have some more eggs for you all. Our hens lay more than we can eat,” she said.

Rick gratefully accepted them with an earnest look and a nod. “Thank you. That’s very kind.”

“And some potatoes,” Maggie offered. Lori grabbed her basket.

“Really, you all are being so kind. If there’s anything we can do to help around the place just let us know,” she said.

Beth was looking off into the distance at you sitting alone, away from the group, your back to the farmstead. “What’s wrong with her?” she asked, without really thinking.

“Beth!” Maggie scolded her.

“Well, I—I just mean she never eats with ya’ll. She seems like she’s always off on her own,” Beth explained, a little sheepish from her sister’s scolding.

The rest of the group was looking your direction now too, many of them asking the same questions in their minds.

“C’mon, now. That’s enough,” Maggie said. “Daddy needs help with the laundry.”

The group watched them head back to the farmhouse and Shane was the next one to break the silence. “It’s a fair question,” he said, chuckling to himself wryly, glancing back over his shoulder at you before leaning in to grab another helping of breakfast. “She hasn’t exactly meshed into the fabric of the group, has she?”

“Shane, give it a rest,” Lori said sternly.

“No offense meant but I don’t think I’ve ever heard her say more than two words at a time,” Andrea said. “You can’t pretend like there isn’t something… odd there.”

Dale hummed. “Not that it’s really our business, but she’s never said anything about what happened to her before we found her out by the quarry. I’ve tried to ask her about her family, what she used to do before all this,” he shrugged vaguely. “Never got a thing out of her. That’s her right if she doesn’t want to talk about it, but it does seem a little strange.”

“That’s all I’m sayin’,” Shane said. “Somethin’ weird with that girl,” he trailed off.

Daryl stood up, annoyed. “Ya’ll are a buncha busy body gossips. If ya’d open your damn eyes for two seconds you’d realize she does more for this group than most of ya combined,” he growled. “She gathered that wood burnin’ in your fire right there. Them mushrooms mixed in with your damn eggs, who the hell ya think found those? Ya think they just magically appeared along with that stuff you’re usin’ to make tea every night?” He tossed his empty plate down on the grass and scoffed. “People who don’t trust easily usually got a damn good reason. ’M outta here.”

Shane watched him go in slight amusement, but most of the others looked a little ashamed of themselves. Daryl was right, of course. You did do a lot for the group. You just kept to yourself. You didn’t make a big show of bringing back some meat or foraged food. You never complained when Rick or Shane asked you to do something. You took more than your fair share of the night watches. And the fact that no one knew anything about your past, the fact that you didn’t talk much, didn’t need any explanation to Daryl. Based on his own background, he could guess there was a reason you were the way you were.

A short time later, Daryl noticed you gathering up your pack and grabbing your pistol and recurve bow. He wandered over as you were snapping your knife into its sheath at your hip. “Ya headin’ out to search again?” he asked softly. You and him seemed to be the only ones who hadn’t completely given up hope of finding Sophia. You simply nodded once.

“Alright,” Daryl drawled. “What’s your plan?” Asking a question that wasn’t a simple yes or no was always a toss-up with you. Half the time he’d get a short answer, half the time he wouldn’t.

“North side of the ridge,” you said. Your voice was always quiet and measured. The archer usually wished most people would talk less, but with you he always hoped to hear more. The little that you said was purposeful and deliberate. There was no idle bullshit.

He nudged his nose up in a nod at you. “Alright. I’ll start by that creek and work along the south side. We can be close by in case either of us gets into trouble with walkers,” he said.

You simply nodded again and gave him a long thoughtful look. You did that a lot. Daryl had the feeling there was a lot going on behind your eyes, but you never spoke any of it. Surprisingly, he never felt nervous or uncomfortable when you looked at him like that. He just hoped someday maybe you’d open up a little bit more. The next moment you had turned and were heading toward the tree line already. Daryl scrambled to gather his gear and set off after you.

He could see your figure ahead, disappearing into the brush and soon he couldn’t see or hear you at all. He set out along the south side of the ridge as planned, picking his way along the creek, scrutinizing every inch of ground and hoping for a shoeprint.

Along the north side you were doing the same. You frequently knelt to examine some little scrape in the litter or soil and as you went you filled the little cloth bag you carried with edible and medicinal plants, berries, and fungi. The day wore on with no sign of the little girl and your frustration and fear grew even as the sun reached its apex in the sky and started to drift back down toward the western horizon.

You turned and started picking a new path back, heading toward the farm now rather than away. The deepening shadows made detecting print or trail more difficult but you kept your focus sharp on the ground as you moved, your bow slung over your shoulder next to your quiver.

You were becoming tired when you noticed an impression in the mud. You knelt, one knee of your jeans sinking into the damp soil. It was a boot print, but certainly not left by Sophia. You stared at the detail of the sole impression and your brow drew down low immediately. You have everyone’s shoe designs memorized. It wasn’t one you recognized. Your eyes drifted up and you could see a worn trail through the underbrush and more prints, heavy in the mud. There were at least three men who had left this trail, and they weren’t walkers. The path was straight ahead with no stagger and you could tell they were picking their way through the underbrush. You crouched and started to follow the trail. You needed to get eyes on these people. They were awfully close to the farm… Close enough, certainly, to see the smoke rising from the chimney and your fire circles.

You ghosted through the woods following the trail, moving as silently as you could. You’d been on the path for probably ten minutes when you could hear careless, noisy movement ahead. You must have caught up with them. Your heart hammering in your chest, you stayed low and crept closer. As you moved around a partially downed tree you could finally see the shapes of two men ahead. They were scruffy and filthy, clearly living on the move in the woods. You needed a closer look. You wanted to see what kinds of weapons they had on them. If you could scout out the group, you could determine whether something needed to be done about them or not.

As you tried to shift to another patch of concealing cover, you didn’t notice your bow catching on a low hanging dead branch. By the time you felt the resistance it was too late. The whole branch pulled loose with a loud snapping sound as it bent and cracked other dried branches and twigs on its way down. The two men you had been watching spun immediately and had weapons raised, rifles pointed in your direction. You were swearing under your breath and instantly on your feet aiming your pistol right back.

“Well, shit! What the hell do we have here?” one of the men asked, shifting a little to get a better look at you. “You alone out here, sweetheart?”

You fell an immediate swell of anger and dread rising up in your chest.

“What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?” the second man asked, grinning and revealing teeth that were tobacco stained and yellow.

“What’s a fine little thing like you doing out here by yourself? Don’t you know it’s dangerous? There are all kinds of monsters in these woods,” the first man said, looking you up and down thoroughly. His companion laughed.

Fuck. This was bad. Why had you pushed your luck and crept in so closely? Now you were outnumbered and you knew there was at least one other man somewhere that you didn’t have eyes on.

Your chest was heaving with anxious breaths from the rush of adrenaline. The first man stepped a bit closer again and you responded by taking a measured step back, your pistol aimed squarely at his chest. Now what? Should you make a run for it? Would they shoot you? Based on the animalistic looks in their eyes you knew things could go very bad, very quickly if you couldn’t get the fuck out of there. Your mind was whirring.

Suddenly, you heard a stick crack behind you and you turned instinctively to see a third man now rushing you. He landed a fist into your jaw and your vision went black as you fell to the ground, holding onto your pistol as tightly as you could. The pain radiating from your jaw into your head was overwhelming. You blinked, willing the darkness to clear, but it lingered as you suddenly felt rough hands on you, rolling you over and ripping both your bow and rifle from your back.

You struggled blindly and managed to get yourself onto your back again as the darkness in your eyes faded instead to the outlines of blurred shapes. You could make out the shape of the man standing over you and you instinctively raised your pistol and squeezed several rounds which sounded like cracks of thunder in the close woods. You missed, the scene still foggy, and you immediately squeezed again and discharged another round but the man leapt down on you with a wild yell, knocking your arm to the side and pinning it into the ground. His weight pressed down on you and you were vaguely aware of an acrid smell filling your nostrils, causing bile to rise up in your throat. He pried your pistol from your hand and tossed it away into the brush.

You writhed beneath him, struggling to get clear of his grasp but he was much bigger than you and soon there was another set of hands on you. You were rolled onto your stomach again and your arms were pulled back behind you and held painfully tight.

“We got ourselves a wild cat here, boys!” one of the men laughed. “Get her up,” he ordered. You were pulled roughly onto your feet, still trying to blink away the remaining fuzziness in your eyes and struggling against your captor.

The first man, who seemed to be the leader, paced over, watching you with a look of satisfaction on his face as you still tried to fight loose. His rifle was now dropped casually by his side. He grabbed your chin cruelly and pulled it up so you looked right into his eyes. His fingers dug into the tender spot on your jaw where the other man had hit you. “Ain’t you a pretty little thing,” he murmured silkily.

You yanked your face from his grasp and he chuckled, glancing back at the other man standing just behind him. “She’s a good one,” he said, a sick smirk on his face. He looked back at you and his eyes roamed perversely over your body. “This’ll be fun.”

He turned violent and grabbed the front of your light cotton shirt, ripping it harshly down off one shoulder, tearing the breezy plaid fabric easily and popping off the first three buttons. The man holding you only tightened his grip. Your throat constricted so tightly it was hard to breathe. You felt like your heart was beating so hard that it would surely burst. You could feel everyone’s eyes on your newly bared skin. Next the leader withdrew a knife and pressed the point into the center of your chest just above your bra. You cringed at the feeling of the biting cold metal pricking your skin.

He stepped close into you and moved the knife up to your throat, pressing it to the side of your neck and drawing it lightly across your skin just enough to cut you. You winced and shut your eyes, trying to keep as still as possible with that blade to your throat and you soon felt a rivulet of warmth rolling down toward your collarbone. You opened your eyes as the knife left your throat and he slipped it under your exposed bra strap, rotating it and lifted up until the fabric started to separate along the sharp edge. Finally, it gave and the strap hung loosely down. He sucked in a hiss of breath through his teeth, his eyes hungry and crazed. “This will be a lot easier on you if you just cooperate. Then again… I like a woman with some fight in her,” he snarled. “Your choice.” His companions let out more appreciative laughter as fear twisted your stomach.

You felt yourself going numb. Suddenly, you couldn’t feel any pain anymore. You couldn’t feel the man’s hands pinning your arms back. You couldn’t feel the blood that was now running down your chest. Your eyes drifted to the leader’s cold, blue blade and then unfocused so the scene simply became a haze. And you suddenly realized that they hadn’t taken your knife. It was still in its sheath on your hip…

A short distance away, Daryl had been thinking that it was probably about time to call it a day and head back when he heard a series of loud gunshots. His body went rigid and he turned frantically, staring off into the brush. He strained his hearing to its limit. They’d definitely come from your direction. Abandoning any other thought, he sprung into motion, racing through the woods as fast as he could in the direction he thought the blasts had come from.

Back in camp, everyone else had heard the shots too. Shane turned and looked at Rick, his gaze intense.

“Were those gun shots?” Lori asked, fear in her voice.

“Yeah,” Rick said, rising to his feet and rushing to grab his gun from the stash of weapons in the RV. “Shane, T, Glenn, let’s go! The rest of you stay here!”

Hershel stepped out onto the porch and watched the group of men racing across the pasture toward the trees. He had a bad feeling in his gut. Maggie and Beth came out, the slamming screen door punctuating the piercing silence that fell after the shots.

Daryl smashed through the brush carelessly, his eyes scanning the ground for a trail, any trail, something to follow. Finally, his eyes locked on boot prints that were surely yours. He vaguely registered that there were much larger impressions in the soil too, several different boots much larger than yours. And they certainly weren’t from walkers.

“Son of a bitch,” he cursed under his breath. He froze and scanned the thick greenery. He strained his hearing again, listening for some sound, anything, to give him an idea of what was happening. Please don’t let me be too late, he thought frantically. He took off again but more cautiously, following the tracks you had clearly also discovered. Probably what had led you right into something…

Rick and the others were well into the trees now but Shane stopped everyone. “Rick, what the hell are we doin’ man? We don’t have a clue where Y/N and Daryl are. We can’t just go blindly crashing through here or we’re gonna end up in a bad spot too.”

Rick’s eyes frantically whirred over the seemingly endless tree trunks.

“Wait—I saw Y/N’s map yesterday. She had the whole thing sectioned out into search areas,” Glenn said. “Most of them were already crossed off.”

“Well, which ones weren’t?” Shane urged, checking to make sure there was a round chambered in his gun.

“Uhh—” Glenn’s mind raced. “I think—I think by that ridge, straight north of here. But I can’t be sure,” he trailed off.

Rick rubbed a hand over his face. They all listened for any sound, but the woods were oppressively silent now. “Shit…” he cursed under his breath.

“It’s the best we got,” T gasped, out of breath from the frenetic dash from camp.

Rick nodded. “Alright. Then we head north. Keep your heads on a swivel and your eyes peeled for any sign of Y/N or Daryl.”

Daryl moved as swiftly along the trail as he could. Suddenly, he spotted something lying on top of the litter out of the corner of his eye. Your pistol. Daryl grabbed it and the muzzle was still warm. Clearly, you’d been the one to fire at least some of those shots. “Fuck. Fuck…” He tucked it into his waistband and moved more cautiously now. His heart was pounding and sweat was pouring down his forehead. His knuckles were white on his crossbow. He rounded a downed tree and froze when he saw a dark shape on the ground ahead. His heart dropped into his stomach. Please don’t let it be Y/N… He was almost paralyzed with fear but he forced himself to take another couple steps. As he rounded the brush and straightened up, he knew it wasn’t you but his apprehension didn’t evaporate. It was a large man, clearly dead, completely covered in blood. The hair on the back of Daryl’s neck suddenly stood on end and he spun around, his crossbow up to his eye, ready to fire. But he dropped it involuntarily as he took in the scene before him, his jaw dropping partially open and his eyes narrowing as he tried to figure out what the fuck he was seeing.

You were standing there in front of him trembling from head to toe, your hands out in front of you with your knife clutched in one like it was a lifeline. Daryl could easily see the shakiness in your hands. You were completely covered in blood. Your clothing and skin were soaked in it, like you’d bathed in a crimson river. There was thick splatter on your face, neck, and chest. Your eyes were wide and fixed and you didn’t show any awareness that he was there in front of you. Daryl registered that your shirt was torn down from one shoulder and your bra strap had been cut. He didn’t need an explanation to know what the fuck had happened and rage swelled in his chest, stoking an intense fire. His eyes drifted down to two more bodies lying at your feet, each with uncountable stab wounds and one with his throat cut, his clothing drenched. The metallic smell of blood was in the air and Daryl could almost taste it on his tongue.

Still you showed no awareness that he was there. You seemed frozen, catatonic. He now registered that you had slash wounds through the fabric of your sleeves and cuts on your arms. Defensive wounds where you had blocked a knife attack. There was a purposeful cut partially up the hem of your jeans at the bottom, clearly from one of the men… It was nearly impossible to tell if you were hurt anywhere else because there was just so much blood…

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he murmured. “Y/N?” He took a cautious step toward you. “Y/N? Can ya hear me?”

Nothing. No reaction at all.

Just then Daryl heard the noise of several people in the woods nearby and he planted himself between you and the sound, raising his crossbow. “Ya better get the fuck outta here unless ya want an arrow between the eyes!” he roared.

Rick straightened up. That was Daryl. “Daryl?!”

Daryl gulped. “…Rick?”

“Yeah, it’s me, Shane, Glenn, and T! We’re comin’ to you! Are you alright?”

Daryl glanced back at you again. You were still just standing there shaking. “‘M fine. Wasn’t me who fired…” Daryl swung his pack off his back and dug inside it.

The men crashed through the underbrush and came into view, taking in the scene. “Oh my God.” The words spilled from Glenn’s lips. They were all glancing from the bloody bodies on the ground to your blood-soaked figure.

“Jesus Christ,” Shane uttered, pacing closer and bending to look at the slash wound in the one corpse’s neck. Daryl finally laid hands on his poncho and yanked it out of his bag. He turned to look at you and began approaching cautiously. “Y/N? It’s Daryl. Can ya hear me?”

Nothing.

Rick was slack-jawed as he looked at the scene. “Daryl… be careful,” he cautioned, eyeing the knife still gripped in your fist.

Daryl glanced back at him. “She ain’t gonna do nothin’ to me,” he drawled.

“Do you see this?” Glenn asked him urgently indicating the bodies. “This is insane. You don’t know that! She looks completely out of it, like she doesn’t even know we’re here!”

Daryl’s jaw clenched and he turned back to look at you again. “Don’t ya fuckin’ see her? She’s terrified. Look at her clothes. They were tryin’ to rape her,” he growled. “They deserve what they got.”

Shane straightened up from examining the bodies, glancing furtively over at you. “Maybe but… on the force, we’d call this ‘overkill’,” he said, backing up and exchanging a glance with Rick.

Daryl ignored him. “Y/N? It’s alright. You’re safe. Nobody is gonna hurt ya. Just lemme take your knife, okay?” There was no recognition on your face, your eyes still wide and fixed, until Daryl’s hand gently closed over yours and started to open your hand around the handle of your knife. He could feel you shaking beneath his fingers. “S’alright,” he said softly as your eyes landed on his face and then locked with his. Your brow drew down low, casting a shadow over the vaguely confused look on your face. As Daryl gently took your knife, he could see there was a very deep gash in your palm. It was bleeding heavily. He guessed it was either another defensive wound from you putting your hands up to stop one of the men’s knives or otherwise your hand, slick with blood, had slipped down onto your own blade when you’d been fighting them. “Glenn, get some gauze out of my pack and bring it over here,” he said. He spoke calmly and softly. He glanced back over at Glenn when he didn’t move from his slack-jawed frozen position. “Glenn. Gauze.” Glenn snapped himself out of it and went to Daryl’s bag. The archer gulped and draped his poncho over you, covering your ripped shirt. “S’alright,” he murmured again.

You didn’t take your eyes off his face. He wasn’t even sure if you realized the others were there. Glenn walked forward and handed Daryl the small roll of sterile gauze before backing up slowly. The look in your eyes was haunted and dazed and it left all of them feeling empty and concerned.

Daryl opened your hand flat and your eyes drifted down to watch him wrap the bandage over the wound on your palm. You couldn’t feel it. You couldn’t really feel anything, except Daryl’s hands on yours.

Shane turned to Rick. “Rick, what the hell are we gonna do about this? We can’t just waltz her back into camp covered in blood. You don’t want the others seein’ this… Carl? Lori? Or Hershel. Look at her. She looks completely unstable. This might be enough for him to kick us out right now.” He looked back at you over his shoulder.

Rick sighed heavily. “So, we’ll get her cleaned up first.”

Daryl was keeping one ear on the conversation going on behind him. “She needs stitches on this hand,” he drawled. “And who knows how else she’s hurt. Can’t see a damn thing on her right now. And since ya’ll are more worried about yourselves than her, I’ll take care of it. Why don’t ya just get the hell outta here,” Daryl growled.

Glenn stepped forward. “We are worried about her. But you have to admit that this is—this is—” He didn’t even know what word to use. Daryl just stared at him. You were hugging your arms around yourself now, still shaking. Your eyes were downcast, staring unseeing at the ground.

“Listen, I don’t give a shit what ya do. I’m gettin’ her outta here and taken care of.” He hastily shouldered his pack and his crossbow.

“Just—Daryl,” Rick started, pinching the bridge of his nose, the situation weighing on him heavily. “Clean her up a bit before you take her to Hershel to be looked over.”

The archer eyed him through a narrow glare for a moment before he nodded. He turned back to you, your frame swallowed up in his poncho. “C’mon. Let’s get ya home,” he said gently. Your eyes snapped up to his face again and you allowed him to lead you back toward the farmstead.

He picked a path carefully and finally the two of you broke out from the edge of the forest. The others back in the camp were staring at the tree line, wracked with nerves. Lori straightened up as she recognized movement. “Dale—someone just stepped out.”

Dale, standing on the RV, raised his binoculars to his eyes. “Oh my,” slipped from his lips.

“What? Who is it?” Carol asked anxiously.

“I think it’s Y/N and Daryl,” Dale said. “I can’t quite tell properly, but I think something is wrong with Y/N.” He squinted into the binoculars again. “My God. Her jeans are covered in blood and it—it looks like there’s blood on her neck, her face…”

Carol pressed a hand over her mouth. “Is she hurt?” she asked anxiously. “Was she bit?”

Dale shook his head, lowering the binoculars again. “They’re too far. I can’t tell what’s going on.”

Daryl looked up to see everyone standing almost in a line watching the two of you as you started across the field. He gulped and then put a hand lightly on your back, nervous and unsure of how you would react to the contact. He guided you toward his camp which was closest and was set apart from everyone else’s.

“C’mon and sit down, alright. We’re just gonna clean ya up a bit and then take ya to Hershel.” The look in your eyes was worrying him immensely but you sat down on a round of wood pulled up near the fire ring. He anxiously chewed on his bottom lip, trying to figure out how he could reassure you. “Hey. S’alright. You’re safe.”

You met his blue eyes and he finally saw some sense of relief in them. His stomach flipped at the way they softened and he nodded. He took in the sight of you in his poncho again and realized you’d need something else to wear to go see Hershel that wasn’t half ripped off you. “I’m gonna, uhh—” he cleared his throat nervously. “I’ll put a clean shirt out on my cot for ya. Ya can change in in my tent and then we’ll just clean ya up a bit, alright?” He knew better than to wait for a response and climbed to his feet and disappeared into his tent to set the clothes out. He dug around in his duffel bag until he found one that was still folded tightly, definitely clean, and he set it out for you. You watched the handsome archer reemerge from inside his tent and nod his head toward it. “Alright. Go ahead. I’ll just be right out here.”

He watched you get up and disappear, zipping the door behind you. He paced in front of the fire circle, rubbing his thumb over his bottom lip thoughtfully as the image of you standing there in the woods, frozen, absolutely soaked in blood with your shirt half torn surged forward in his mind and he felt another sickening swell of anger. Jesus. Things could have gone so bad with those men… and they were fucking lucky they were already dead when he got there.

The soft rustling of the tent fabric interrupted his thoughts and you stepped out in his long-sleeved flannel, looking a bit dazed still but more grounded. He nudged his nose up in a nod. “C’mon and sit down,” he said, gesturing to the round of wood again. You sank down on it. Daryl grabbed a bucket of clean water that had been warming in the sun all day. He grabbed a cloth from inside his tent and caught sight of your bloody and torn shirt discarded on the floor, feeling another tight twist between his lungs, like someone had tugged a knot there.

You watched him kneel down in front of you and sink the cloth into the bucket of water, wringing it out before bringing it close to your face. He hesitated short of touching you. “S’this alright?” he drawled.

You gave him a questioning look but finally nodded, just one slight tip of your chin. You closed your eyes as the fabric came in contact with your cheek and Daryl started wiping away the blood. The cloth stained crimson quickly. He cleaned the splatters from across your forehead and your nose and the spots on the other side of your face. With the red stains gone, Daryl could see the shadow of a deep bruise along the side of your jaw. Without thinking he gently clasped your chin and turned your head so he could examine it, a heavy shadow falling over his blue eyes. He sunk the cloth back into the bucket of water and wrung it out again, this time pressing it to the side of your neck.

Despite how gentle he was being, you involuntarily sucked in a sharp hiss of air through your teeth as the cloth found the cut on the side of your neck from the leader’s knife. Your eyes blinked open through your wince.

“Sorry,” Daryl drawled, pulling back to look at the wound. “Jesus… Those assholes had a knife to your neck?” he asked. It was rhetorical and he didn’t expect an answer. He wiped at the blood spatter and you closed your eyes again, trying to breathe deeply and still the trembling you still felt wracking through you. Daryl could hear a shaky quality in your breathing. Soon, your face and neck were clean and Daryl turned his attention to your hands. Your eyes were still shut as he rinsed the cloth out again in the bucket. “Lemme see your hands,” he said softly. You found the deep gravel of his voice comforting.

Out of everyone in your group, you usually felt like Daryl was the only one who really saw you. You’d wanted to get to know him better, but held yourself back. He seemed to seek solitude like you did, and you didn’t want to force yourself into his world.

He took your hand, your palm resting against his, and he swept the cloth lightly over the back of it and down each finger. The sensation sent goosebumps rising on your skin and you glanced up at the concerned and intent expression on his face curiously. You couldn’t even remember the last time anyone had shown you so much attention and care. He took your other hand in his now, the one with gauze around it and the deep gash in your palm. He rubbed the blood from the back of each finger and then flipped it over in his hand. He frowned as he noticed that your blood had soaked through the bandage. “Probably need stitches on this one,” he murmured softly. The cloth tickled over the underside of each finger now, sweeping off the ends. “Alright. Push up them sleeves,” he said, dunking the cloth into the bucket again for what felt like the hundredth time.

“What?” He was startled by your voice and his eyes snapped up to look at you.

He straightened up, one of his eyebrows quirking down at the question. “Ya had a buncha cuts on your arms. We need to clean ‘em up and check ‘em. See if ya need stitches anywhere else.”

You shook your head.

He gave you a questioning look for a long moment and chewed on his bottom lip. “Alright. Ya can do it. I’ll just go tell Hershel you’re on your way in, alright?”

You stared at him for another long moment as he set the cloth on the edge of the bucket, whose water was now stained a dark pink. You glanced up as he climbed to his feet and nodded.

“Alright,” he said. “C’mon up when you’re done and we’ll get that hand taken care of.”

Daryl started over toward the farmhouse and as he approached Carol rushed up to him. “What happened?” she urged him. “Are you okay? Is Y/N?”

He stopped, his hand on one hip. He glanced back out toward the trees and saw the rest of the group making their way back toward camp across the field. “‘M fine,” he drawled. “Y/N ran into some men out there when we were searchin’.”

“Men? What men? What happened? Is she alright?”

Daryl chewed his bottom lip and shrugged vaguely. “I don’t know how to—how to answer that,” he said truthfully.

Confusion muddled Carol’s expression and she glanced in the direction of you over at Daryl’s camp. “Well, what happened?” she asked again.

Daryl looked at her seriously and shrugged vaguely. “Y/N killed ‘em. Didn’t have no choice.” He continued his path up to the house and bounded up the porch steps, knocking on the front door. Carol stared after him, a bit shocked. Maggie answered, looking worried.

“Were those gun shots earlier?” she asked.

Daryl nodded. “Mhm… Hey, can your dad take a look at Y/N?”

“Of course. What happened?” she asked, holding the screen door open so he could step inside.

Hershel was there in an instant. “Daryl. What happened? We heard those shots.”

“Y/N and I were out lookin’ for Sophia. There were some men. She—she ran into some trouble.”

Hershel took a deep breath and nodded. “Is she alright?”

“I think she needs stitches in her hand. She took a good hit to her jaw too. Might have a concussion. I dunno,” he said. He anxiously chewed on his bottom lip again. “I know she’s got some cuts on her arms, defensive wounds, but she wouldn’t let me look at ‘em. Got a cut on her neck.”

“Oh my God,” Maggie said, her hand flying up to her mouth.

“What happened to the men?” Hershel asked.

Daryl quit chewing the side of his thumbnail. “Dead,” he said, watching the old farmer’s reaction closely, but the man’s face was blank. He simply nodded.

“I’ll get my kit. Have her come on in.”

Daryl headed back onto the porch to see how you were doing and you were on your way over. His eyes caught on the dark splatters and stains of blood on your jeans and the slit at the bottom. His stomach twisted. Maybe he should have had you change clothes completely… You were trying to ignore the eyes on you as you made your way over to the house.

Andrea and Lori exchanged a look at the state of your clothes.

“Come on in here and sit down,” Hershel said kindly. “Let’s take a look at that hand.” You offered up your gauze-wrapped hand and Hershel laid it out on the table, unwrapping the already blood-soaked bandage and taking a look at the deep gash. “Pretty deep cut here. Definitely need stitches.” He grabbed a needle from his kit and pricked the end of each of your fingers. They all twitched in response. “You can feel that?” You nodded. “Good. Looks like we dodged any nerve damage. Much deeper and you would have needed major surgery for a cut tendon and who knows what else. Maggie, dear, would you get the sutures set up while I clean this off?”

Nerve damage. Cut tendon. Daryl shifted uncomfortably in his spot leaned up against the wall. You hardly seemed to react to the news at all.

Hershel swabbed at your hand and you shut your eyes against the bite of the alcohol. “Now, Daryl tells me you took a good hit to the jaw. I’m just gonna check it and make sure nothing is broken.” He palpated both sides of your face, across your cheekbones and up your jawline. “Just a bit swollen,” he said. “Did you lose sight when you were hit?” he asked you, grabbing a small pen light and checking the dilation response of each of your pupils. You gulped and nodded. “Do you remember your name?” he asked you. You nodded again. “I need you to answer my questions verbally. I’m interested in your answers but also your speech.”

“My name’s Y/N.”

“When is your birthday?” Hershel asked.

You stared at him. “No one here knows my birthday. How will you know if I’m right or not?”

A small smile grew on Hershel’s face. “I’d say your speech and cognition are fine. Probably a mild concussion though with your eyesight blacking out. You’ll need to take it easy the next few days, rest and fluids, and let me know if you develop any new symptoms like vomiting or nausea, confusion, a worsening headache. Understand?”

You nodded again. “Yes. I understand.”

“Sutures are ready,” Maggie said.

Hershel put on a pair of clean gloves and prepared. “I’m afraid I don’t have anything to numb you,” he said, propping your hand up on a towel so he could see it better.

“It’s alright. I would have told you to save it anyway,” you said. Daryl straightened up from his place against the wall and came to stand next to you. You could feel his eyes on your face.

“You’re one tough cookie,” Hershel said. “Let’s get this taken care of.” You hardly flinched as he passed the needle through…

Outside, Rick and the others were just arriving back at camp. Everyone gathered around and seemed to read on their faces that they were all unsettled.

“Rick,” Lori said, grabbing him into a hug. “What happened? We saw Daryl and Y/N come back. Her jeans were covered in blood.”

Rick looked down at her. “Nothing to worry about. It’s been taken care of.”

“Well, what was it?” Lori pressed him, her eyes still a bit wide and fearful.

Carol spoke up. “Daryl said she ran into some men and they’re—she killed them.”

Glenn and T were avoiding everyone’s eyes while Shane let out a frustrated sigh and paced away from the group, disagreeing with Rick still about the decision not to tell everyone you had clearly gone slasher on those assholes. Provoked or justified or not, Shane felt like that was something everyone should know. He’d gone far enough to describe you as a serial killer before Rick had stood him down. Rick nodded and looked at his wife and then at Andrea and Dale. “Y/N was attacked and she dealt with it. Hershel is gonna patch her up and there’s nothing to worry about.

“What if there are more of those men?” Carol asked fearfully.

“We only ever saw three different boot prints out there,” T reassured her. “But we’ll keep watch like we always do. We’ll be fine.”

Everyone still looked uneasy, but settled back into their tasks. Lori was about to go fetch some more water when Shane grabbed her arm and tugged her around the side of the SUV. She gave him a stern look and pulled her arm from his grasp.

“What?” she snapped at him, a bit unkindly.

“Rick ain’t tellin’ you everythin’,” he said.

Lori just stared Shane with a guarded expression. “I trust my husband. And you used to, too.”

“Yeah, well… What happened out there today? It should concern everyone.” His expression was dark and Lori felt her sense of unease grow.

Shane rubbed a hand over the stubble on his face. “Y/N just—” Shane let out a sigh that had the edge of a growl to it.

“What are you talking about?” Lori pressed him in an undertone. “Are we in danger?”

Shane straightened up and pressed his lips into a thin line briefly before meeting her eyes. “Honestly? I don’t know. But I’m not taking my eyes off that girl.”

Inside, Hershel tied off the final stitch and snipped the suture. “All done.” He applied a layer of antibacterial ointment and wrapped your hand in a fresh dressing. “Try to keep it dry. And I mean it,” he gave you a pointed look, “take it easy for a few days. Daryl, you hold her to that. Anything else you need me to look at? Your arms? Daryl said—” You shook your head no. “Alright.”

The archer straightened up as you climbed to your feet. “Thank you,” you murmured to Hershel.

Daryl held the door for you and you cringed at how everyone’s eyes were on you immediately as you stepped out onto the porch. You avoided them and started heading in the direction of your camp. Daryl was still in step beside you and you hazarded a glance in his direction.

He could read a question in your eyes. “I’ll keep ya company for a bit if that’s alright... Besides, ya should be restin’ and somebody needs to make sure ya take care of yourself.” You didn’t say anything, but that also wasn’t a refusal. Daryl could tell you were still reeling a bit, and he wanted to be there just in case.

You arrived at your separate camp area and watched as Daryl immediately went and stirred up the coals in the fire, adding more wood and soon having a nice blaze going. You headed for your tent and glanced back over your shoulder at him. “Just gonna change,” you said softly. He nodded and went about heating something for you to eat along with water for tea. He was sure you had collected more ingredients and remembered that your bag was still sitting at his camp. He jogged to grab it and brought it back along with your bloodied and torn shirt, not sure what else to do with it. When he got back, you were sitting by the fire in clean and comfortable clothes, his shirt resting over your lap. You held it out to him as he dropped your pack beside you.

“Thanks,” he murmured. The fabric was still warm from your body. “Dunno what ya wanna do with this,” he said, holding yours out in turn.

You stared at it for a long moment before your fingers closed on it and Daryl watched as you immediately tossed it into the fire. In a moment, it was only ashes and embers. He sank down beside you and felt you studying him. He turned and met your eyes and was surprised when you spoke. “You aren’t afraid of me now? Like the others?” you asked softly.

“Nah. Why would I be?”

Your striking eyes focused back on the crackling campfire and the embers dancing upward on the warm torrent of air. “You saw what I did. Why wouldn’t you be?”

Daryl peered at you curiously for a long moment. “Ya were only protectin’ yourself. Can’t say I wouldn’t have done worse if I’d been there,” he drawled, and you could hear anger in the tension in his voice.

“I blacked out,” you said suddenly.

“When they hit ya? Ya, yer gonna have a good bruise tomorrow.”

“That’s not what I mean.” You cradled your injured hand absently in the other. “The last thing I remember was the one starting to cut my jeans and then—then I was just covered in blood and they were all dead. And next thing I know you were taking my knife from me.” You shut your eyes for a moment. “I don’t remember anything else.”

Daryl considered the regretful expression on your face. “Don’t matter. Yer safe. That’s what counts. Those men? They had it comin’.”

You looked up at him in surprise and he simply nodded and then grabbed a mug and filled it with hot water for you. You accepted it and dug into your bag, pulling out the small sack of foraged herbs from the day. You dropped a few berries and leaves into your mug and cradled it with your uninjured hand.

It was nearly sunset and the quality of the light was cooling, oranges turning to reds and then fading into deep purples and inky blues. You allowed yourself to frequently study the archer as he shoved a bowl of reheated stew into your hands or added more wood to the fire. You felt surprisingly at ease with him there and he didn’t seem at all bothered by the passing of so much silence. Maybe the concussion just had you slightly numb, but you didn’t think so.

“You aren’t going to ask me?” you finally said.

Daryl looked over at you and he felt a stirring in his chest at the way the firelight was catching the shine and colors in your hair and the soft shape of your lips. “Ask ya what?”

“How I—Why I—” You didn’t even know how to phrase it really.

Daryl watched you struggled for a moment. “Ain’t none of my business. But if ya wanted to talk about it, I’ll listen. Not gonna lie and say I haven’t wondered about what came before ya were with the group.”

You had been on the verge of speaking it but suddenly lost your nerve and sipped at your tea again. Daryl watched you withdrawing again and rubbed a hand a bit nervously over the back of his neck. Darkness had fallen completely now. “Well, I’ll leave ya alone. Yer probably sick of me anyway,” he drawled. “Get some rest, alright?” Daryl had climbed to his feet and started to head in the direction of his own tent but your voice froze him.

“It’s not that I want to be alone all the time…” Daryl could hear the crackling of the fire in the silence that followed. “It’s just that alone usually feels safer.”

He glanced back at you, turning partially. “Ya. I know the feelin’,” he said gently, pacing back.

You looked up at him and something about your expression, your wide eyes, went straight to his core. “Stay,” you said quietly. “Please.” You chewed on your bottom lip for a moment. “Being with you feels safer…” you admitted, timidly.

Daryl felt an ache in his chest and nodded. He grabbed a seat beside you again and puzzled over this unprecedented turn of events.

You seemed to come to some decision suddenly and looked over at him intensely. He caught your eyes briefly and then watched as you pushed up your right sleeve. At first all he saw were the knife cuts, crimson against your skin, but you turned your forearm toward him in the firelight. “This is what I didn’t want you to see,” you said. You gulped. You’d never told anyone, never shown anyone, literally never talked about what had happened to you since you got out. You’d vowed that you would just move on, but the longer you suffered in silence the worse it seemed to get, until you felt like it would consume you. And then today, with those men, you’d just completely lost it. It had triggered something, a memory or maybe more like a nightmare, and when you came to you were bathed in blood and didn’t even recognize yourself, couldn’t believe what you’d done. Enough was enough. Maybe if you spoke it, admitted it, dealt with it in some way… maybe it’d get easier.

Daryl stared at a scar on your forearm. It looked like a brand and the skin was still slightly pink, showing that it wasn’t that old. It was four numbers. 1048.

#daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon twd #the walking dead #twd fanfics #daryl dixon drabbles #daryl imagines #daryl dixon x reader #fanfics #writers of tumblr #twd drabbles

[needleandhammer]

Fruition

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Female!Reader

Word Count: 6216

Summary: You're the Governor's daughter and you've caught the eye of Boston's most eligible bachelor.

Warnings: Explicit sexual content. Unprotected sex. P in v. Reader's first time having sex. Cunnilingus. Dub con. Possessive!Ransom. Sort of Dark!Ransom. Historically inaccurate. Slight breeding kink. 18+ only!

A/N: Period au. I kept the time period and nobility ranking real vague because I'm not about to research and actually world-build a mashed 19th century American colonies and Victorian period au :D It's not quite as dark!Ransom as I had intended, mostly soft. Inspired by Bridgerton, yes. And the amazing debauchery of @stargazingfangirl18 for their Soft Dark 5k challenge. Congrats and thank you for such amazing stories!

Yet another season of balls, picnics, and courtship.

“Have you heard the news? The young Drysdale is to be named heir to the Thrombey estates.”

“That makes him heir to both Thrombey and Drysdale legacies.”

“Do you think he’s in search of a wife?”

“It’s Drysdale we’re talking about. The only thing he’s in search of is someone to warm his bed for one night.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. All that inheritance must require a wife to keep in order.”

“I wouldn’t mind warming his bed even for one night.”

“Shh! That’s scandalous!”

You heard your name and looked up to see your friend Vincenza approach. “Have you heard? Drysdale is to be—“

“Must I endure an entire evening of talk about that boorish man?”

She giggled at your complaint. “But it’s the talk of the city. Lord Thrombey has replaced his own son with his grandson as heir. And…” She glanced around, leaning close to you to whisper. “I heard that the transfer of inheritance was all due to Drysdale’s uncle’s inability to produce a child.”

Your brow folded, unsure whether such a decision was fair. “Well it’s not our business, Vinnie.”

“But that’s the thing!” Her whisper grew breathless with excitement. “It’s all of our business. Well, those of us not determined to narrow our marriage choices in the name of love.” She shook her head at you with good nature. “If Drysdale is to produce an heir, he needs a wife! It’s certain that all the available ladies of Boston will be trying to earn his favor.”

You sighed as Vinnie hooked her arm around your elbow, both of you weaving slowly through the ballroom.

It wasn’t like you weren’t used to this, hearing gossip about the infamous Drysdale son, the eldest grandson to the retired Lord Thrombey. How such a noble scholar could be related to the notorious heartbreaker sometimes stretched your comprehension. And even more ridiculous, autumn found you as Drysdale’s target for humiliation. You knew such a flirt had no intentions of settling down, yet, he had endeavored to make sure he danced with you at every ball thus far this season, and even called on you at your city townhome. You were quick to inform him that you were uninterested, yet he seemed unbothered. In fact, upon your firm rejection, Drysdale seemed to make it his goal to visit your brother as often as possible - as the two were college pals - ensuring you encountered him several times a week. Drysdale was not outright courting you, but he made his attentions evident to you. Most frustrating of all, he seemed to have a knack for cornering you under the guise of innocently keeping his friend’s sister company. It irked you that your family could not see what you saw.

You caught sight of your brother waving at you, so you led Vinnie in his direction.

Perhaps Vinnie was correct and you were closing doors that were better left open in the opulent realm of nobility courtship. Your chances of marrying for love were slim, but that didn’t mean you could not at least try to maneuver your way closer to those slim chances. Even in Boston’s ruthless high society of meddling mothers, envious debutantes, and arrogant “gentlemen.” But you were the Governor’s first-born daughter – beauty praised by all, poised and sharp, and most accomplished at a number of activities thanks to the Governor and your mother encouraging a diverse array of talents since you were young. Theirs was a happy and long marriage resulting in five children, and supported by a successful political career that you were proud to celebrate. You had no doubt that no matter the pressures of society, your parents would support you if you opposed an incompatible proposal in your search for the right person.

As long as you navigated the nobility’s courtship rituals with the wits you inherited from your own mother, there should be no reason you should lose the romantic interests of countless eligible bachelors, or heaven forbid, fall upon a scandal that may prevent a proposal of love.

Well, there was one reason you might end the season in scandal, by way of delivering a swift knee to the vulnerable private area of one particularly irritating gentleman in full public view of hundreds of good folk who have gathered to enjoy the Senator’s autumn ball. Alas, you were not going to bring that kind of shame to your parents.

The particular reason, the gentleman who irritated you so, was currently greeting your elder brother quietly, whilst his penetrating gaze remained on you. Determined not to be ruffled by his attention, you kept your shoulders back and chin high, sweeping your eyes through the crowd and dancers.

Your attention returned to your group of family and friends when your hand was captured. By him. Hugh Ransom Drysdale Thrombey.

“My, don’t you look breath-taking. It is my pleasure to get to see you tonight, Miss Y/L/N.” Drysdale’s eyes flowed down your form, and much to your chagrin, his smirk widened. No doubt the warm flush on your bare collar would be apparent to him.

You couldn’t help yourself, with those glowing azure eyes of his so clearly admiring your figure. The man was completely inappropriate.

“Yes, it surely is.” You offered a pursed barely-there smile and tugged your hand. He tightened his grip upon your fingers, raising them to meet his lips. You cursed yourself for choosing the delicate lace gloves this evening, as you felt his warm breath feather through the lace onto your skin. He deliberately kept his lips upon your fingers for longer than necessary, curved in that signature smirk.

“Mr. Drysdale, if I may have my hand back. I must obtain a beverage for my sister.”

Mischief twinkled back at you from his eyes. “Allow me to accompany you. I’m sure your brother and mother would both enjoy a drink,” he was quick to close down the objection posed on your lips.

Your brother thanked Drysdale with a clap on his shoulder and motioned for you to go on. You could only give Vinnie a frown as she preened at you with excitement. You proceeded without protest, knowing your brother’s attention was occupied, searching for a Miss Amarea Dane, whom you were certain you would welcome as sister-in-law very soon.

You smiled quietly to yourself, once again dreaming of following in your brother’s footsteps and finding a match so certain and true, so compelled by love and affection, rather than simply honor and title. To think, it had been Drysdale who had introduced the couple.

Suddenly, a man backed up straight into your path. You couldn’t avoid stumbling aside and directly into the arms of Drysdale.

“Watch yourself, Chen. Maybe go easy on the wine,” Drysdale called to the man who raised an empty glass at him with a laugh.

You attempted to straighten up, aware you were surrounded by several people and had just fallen into the embrace of Drysdale, who was notorious for seducing the city’s ladies.

“Let go,” you insisted quietly, dropping your gaze to your wrist which he held on to.

Drysdale gave you stern glance and led you close behind him, keeping his grasp on you hidden as he pulled you through the room.

When the two of you made it beyond the side entrance, you tried retrieving your hand.

“Mr. Drysdale, let go.” You had not wanted to draw attention with so many guests around you. You would die of embarrassment to allow anyone to see Drysdale’s hand on yours beyond the required polite greeting.

“Come, my lady. You cannot blame me for wishing to acquire your attention all to myself.”

“You are being most inappropriate.” You huffed as he pulled into the gardens. “Let go of me this instant.”

“So eager to return to your suitors? I’m sure I saw at least five gentleman who have called on you this month.”

“How can you know of the gentlemen who have called on me?” You dug your heels into the gravel, drawing up short when Drysdale stopped and rounded on you.

“Well, Barber makes no secret of his admiration for you. Or that idiot colonel’s son? And that Wilson fellow makes such noise at the gentlemen’s club about his intent to propose.”

You smiled at his apparent crossness. “Are you tracking my proposals? Are you requesting a fee for updating me about the intentions of my suitors?”

Drysdale stepped closer, his sharp jawline clenched. “So you’re pleased then?”

“Why shouldn’t I be?” You bit back a gasp when he tugged you forward, his hands on your waist which pressed against his front. “If you don’t let go—“

“What will you do?” His smirk returned and your fists pushed against the solid muscle of his arms. “What would you do?” He asked again, dipping his face close to yours. “If someone saw the Governor’s honorable eldest daughter, the pearl of the city, alone in the dark with a man?”

“How dare you? You better let go or my brother –“

“Would only be too happy to welcome me into the family.”

You did not miss his meaning. If you were discovered in this position by anyone, your brother would demand that your honor be redeemed by marriage to Drysdale. As handsome as the man was, you had no wish to pair the rest of your life with a man who flirted with dozens of women each season and broke just as many hearts.

“Well I am certain, sir, he would never force me to marry someone so crude as yourself. He is familiar with your outrageous behavior, so he knows you would make an ill match and I would never consent to it.” You tried leaning back from Drysdale, feeling a growl work from his chest. You couldn’t show him fear, no. You had enough of this man making your life miserable just because he was bored.

He didn’t relent, his palms flexing around your waist tighter. “You think that just because your father protects you, you are beyond the pressures, the claws of people of our standing?” He chuckled darkly. “I assure you, if it was between your happiness and ensuring your family avoids falling from grace, your parents would not hesitate to throw you to the wolves, to sacrifice your childish dreams in order to uphold their status. That’s what you’re searching for, isn’t it? Behind that pretty face are the same silly fancies as all the other girls. Dreams of love.”

“I don’t expect you to understand, so mock me all you want.” You continued struggling, determined to not back down from his burning gaze, but drawing short of breath all the same to have him so close. “Everyone knows you’re too busy fooling around and playing with women who, yes, want to find love. I only pity them for believing you have the ability to give that to them.”

He whispered your name low in warning, his voice sending a flutter down your stomach. You arranged a fierce scowl at him.

“It’s the truth. All you care about are your family’s riches and living like you have no responsibility to your community. Well, go on. Find some poor woman and give your family an heir so you can secure your fortune and continue your wild ways in comfort. But rest assured, I’d rather be thrown to wolves than end up paired with a man like you.”

Your squeak of shock was cut short when Drysdale crashed his mouth on yours. He molded your lips, swallowing your gasp as he sucked your lower lip. You felt suffocated with an intense heat blossoming from your stomach and growing further as you sensed the wet lick of his tongue.

Drysdale knew every time he pushed your buttons he got to enjoy your soft features lighting up just the way he liked; and at the same time he suffered your blatant disdain. For months he had told himself he was only after some entertainment in the form of your admittedly beautiful displeasure directed at him to liven up the droll season. Yet, here he was, unable to restrain himself from touching you, your warm smile haunting his thoughts, the silk of your skin an insufferable craving that occupied him at every hour.

You tried to twist out of his arms, but he held you pressed against him, a soft whimper from you further igniting his desire to wrap you up and make sure no other man witnessed you like this. Breathless. Vulnerable. So, so sweet, just as he imagined you would be.

You were unsure how to respond, failing to escape from his hold. So you fought back with your mouth, lips pushing against his, much to Drysdale’s delight. He barely allowed you to draw breath as he tilted his head, hand caressing the back of your neck to keep you close, quickly sneaking his tongue into the hot cavern of your mouth. He felt you tremble at his invasion, your hands gripping his jacket. He opened his eyes, appreciating the moon’s gleam on your cheek, your lashes fluttering. Despite your drawn brow, he could tell you were no longer opposed to his ministrations. He groaned when your tongue whirled against his.

It was the familiar quiver in your core that struck you and had you thrashing until you had pushed Drysdale away. You could not allow this man to awaken desires within you. You covered your mouth, panting, feeling tears sting your eyes.

You heard your name from him.

“Don’t!” You kept your face hidden with a hand, as though you could hide what had just happened. “Don’t every come near me again, Drysdale.”

“You can’t mean that.”

You stepped back before he could reach you. “I’m sorry. I am to call you Thrombey now, correct? You’ve inherited a title and doubled your worth. Well, don’t for one second think that makes me care for you.”

You rushed out of the garden, praying he wouldn’t catch up. Drysdale breathed deep. Your words stung him.

He shook himself, making a vow. Darling, you’re not getting away from me.

------------------

No, no, this could not be happening. It was still early in the day and your life was ruined. Or, it would be very soon.

“If you don’t accept my proposal, I will ensure that the whole city hears about your little moonlight tryst with Drysdale. We all know he’s not the type to step up for a woman’s honor. So you’ll be left with a scandal and no further suitors, you can be sure of it.”

That was the threat from Mr. Mildred, the colonel’s son who creeped on the edges of parties and was known to mistreat the help of his household.

You couldn’t stand the thought of marrying Mildred. Yet, what were your options? Your parents would heed your wishes, but the shame of a scandal would be hard for your family to recover from. You father’s reelection might even be impacted. Boston may be a modern city but progress was slow when it came to the rules of courtship amongst upper social circles. And your marriage prospects, well, very few bachelors would come calling once they heard you described as a loose woman.

It had been too much to hope that no one witnessed what happened in the garden.

You stood, restless and angry with yourself. How could you have melted into Drysdale’s touch? That was just as agonizing to you as Mildred’s words. Ever since you first met Drysdale, heard of his leisurely bachelor ways and his aversion to marriage and family, you had vowed to never fraternize with anyone of his nature. He was everything you did not want for a stable, loving family and spouse.

So many months, you had been forced to hear him mock you with pleasantries, intrude on your homely comforts, charm your mother and sisters, monopolize your brother’s time. And yet. His broad form hovering close to you as you practiced pianoforte. His many glances with those sky blue eyes during park strolls. The low purr of his voice that followed you into your dreams. Drysdale had managed to worm his way into your subconscious. At one point, you had thought he was tolerable, kind, and perhaps capable of sincerity; but that night in the garden had shown you his true colors.

Two days later, you fared no better. Your mother summoned you into the parlor, sharing that she had encountered Mr. Mildred at a tea party and he mentioned a dreadful whisper he believed to be about you and a gentleman together without chaperones in the Senator’s garden.

Had Mildred run out of patience already? Your mother’s tight frown was your answer. You apologized profusely, tears escaping as you tried to hold yourself together in the presence of someone you had sworn never to disappoint.

Apparently, Mildred informed your mother that such a whisper had not spread far, but he could not be certain of preventing its spread.

You were interrupted by the house maid, bringing a letter to your mother informing of a dinner visit.

The rest of your day, your head ached with the decision you had to make. Drysdale would not be affected by the gossip but you would not remain unscathed for long. Even with the respect your father received as Governor, your prospects grew slimmer than ever. Yet you could not accept a sacred vow of lifelong marriage to the conniving Mildred.

And Drysdale, well, you told yourself you would not entertain the idea. You had rejected his advances once already. You told yourself he had only courted you to add to his conquests and he only continued to antagonize you to alleviate his boredom.

It wasn’t until you entered the dining room that you realized your mother’s dinner guests were the Drysdales, including Lord Thrombey. You lowered yourself into a seat next to your sister, forcing a smile at Lady Drysdale before her strident tones returned to a conversation with your mother. Movement to your other side prompted you, but your smile fell flat to see Ransom Drysdale beside you. He only nodded to you, though you caught his eyes glinting with purpose before he turned to your brother.

It was halfway through dinner that Drysdale made the announcement. He had requested your father’s permission and was proposing to you this very night.

You scarcely noted your two families’ reactions, excusing yourself from the table and winding up in the dimly lit back yard of your home.

“Why?” you asked as soon as you heard footsteps behind you. Turning to Drysdale, you demanded, “Why are you doing this?”

He watched you, eyes dark and framed by thick lashes. His jaw tensed and then he stepped up to you, looking down at you.

“As you said. I have to earn my inheritance. I need an heir for my grandfather. For that to happen, I need a wife.”

You shook your head, his words striking at your heart.

“You’ll do just fine, I suppose,” he finished.

“No!” You shoved at his chest, barely swaying him. “You don’t get to do this. This is my life.”

“I heard what Mildred was going to do,” he said, swallowing hard. “If I didn’t propose, you’d have to marry him. Or –“

“I would deal with the gossip however I see fit! How could you come to my home and propose in front of our entire families. How could you—“

He wrapped his hands around your biceps, dragging you close. “You can’t say no.”

Helpless, you could only silently deny his ruthless words with an anguished shake of your head.

“You can’t say no to me. No matter what you tell yourself about how merciful your lovely society friends will be. We both know if you don’t accept my proposal…” He glanced away with a chuckle before eying you, his grin cocky, sneering. “And don’t even bother thinking you might escape from this by actually marrying Mildred. He’ll back off as soon as he hears the new Lord Thrombey has proposed. Either way, looks like you’re not going to the wolves.”

One hand grasped your neck and jaw, drawing your lips to his. He could sigh with relief. He had not been able to rest ever since tasting you.

“Drysdale –“

“Ransom,” he whispered, rubbing his lips to yours before reclaiming them in a deeper kiss that consumed all of your senses. You couldn’t gather your wits to question how he managed to force all thoughts from your mind. Surely your anger was the source of the sparks lit in your breast as you felt his tongue sweep into your mouth roughly. You sagged against him. Ransom’s lips released you, trailing along your skin.

“Call me Ransom.” His order came firm as he dropped kisses down the corner of your mouth to your ear. It pained him to be the cause of your tears, but he would be damned if he let that weasel Mildred sully your name, or get to twist his fingers in your dark tresses, learn your curves, taste your lips. No, Ransom would be your villain.

“R-Ransom,” you gasped out, so aware of his body heat rolling against you, his thick arms encircling you.

“Accept my proposal.” He knew he had crushed his very slight chances of being on the receiving end of your kind heart, forcing your hand like this.

He pressed his forehead to yours, warm hands framing either side of your face. His thumbs stroked away your tears, and you were struck by the earnest plea in his eyes.

"Alright."

He took a deep breath and stepped back from you, his face a cool mask. "Let us inform our families."

This may be another game to him, an easy means to an end. For you, it wasn’t a choice.

--‐-------------------------------------------------------------------------

You made it through your short engagement and overly grand wedding by devoting your entire energy to convincing your family that you were the eager, blushing bride. You offered minimal answers as your dear sister asked about how Drysdale – no, how Ransom had claimed your heart. You dutifully picked out wedding bouquets with your mother and responded to the well wishes of your father’s friends.

All the while, your busy schedule served as an excuse to avoid your groom-to-be. With middling success. Now that he had claimed your hand, and more, proved your dreams were all for naught, he couldn’t resist reminding you to your face how naïve you had been. Worse, he took advantage of his status as your fiancé.

He took the opportunity at every lunch to sit close to you and toss that triumphant smirk your way. He invited you to the park with your family, leading you ahead and lacing his fingers through yours as he put on a show of holding you steady upon the walkways. He played the love-struck bachelor, dragging you between the far shelves of your father’s library and exploring your mouth with a frenzy that left you dizzy. Your resistance was no match for his determination to overpower you, to flaunt his victory. Yet, you could almost see the arrogant curl of his mouth morphing with each kiss as his eyes softened. And each time, you grew more hopeless - conflicted - as his touch grew familiar, satisfying a part of you which you could not control. You were truly out of your depth when it came to Ransom.

It mattered not. You could not take back your word. The Governor’s daughter that you were so proud to be could not collapse in your own despair. As far as anyone was concerned, you and Ransom had both discovered an unlikely, passionate love for one another and wished very badly to wed.

You should have been exhausted after the early day of wedding celebration you had endured with Ransom, the incomparably handsome and gallant groom. And after many hours riding out to Halifax, the Thrombey country home. Your new home.

But a new challenge was upon you this late night - your wedding night. At least, that had been your sole problem up until Ransom had deposited you in your marital chamber and excused himself. You had absentmindedly, nervously, glided around the room to admire the woodwork. Only to notice a parchment corner peeking from the drawer of an antique desk. Which led you to open the drawer and pluck at the papers with your name upon them.

The pearl of the city. An apt title, yet it fails to define your beauty, Y/N…

…Is it a gift or a curse that I should be visited with visions of your sweet face as I sleep…

Barry speaks highly of you, his sister, and your affinity for family, your desire for a true love. A shame that such an exquisite soul should be beyond my grasp. No, I have earned this torture. I could never deserve you, nor offer you what you deserve…

So many lines speaking of admiration for your character, yearning to learn what would be worthy of your affections, admissions that you were too sweet, too good to be burdened with him. Words hinting of curiosity, of desire for a future with you, a family unlike the one he grew up with.

…I can only laugh at myself for daring to dream God might have mercy on me and lead me into your arms, and lead us to the dreams you and I share…

The sound of the door swinging open had you looking up to meet Ransom’s gaze. He slowed in his entrance, seeing the pile you clasped in hand.

“Those are mine,” he said, voice tight. His hands curled with your big eyes shining upon him full of question.

“My name is on them. They’re mine,” you countered.

“Forget them,” he commanded. “They are only…”

“Fancies? Silly dreams of…love?” you asked. “You’re a talented writer.” You smiled seeing his flushed cheeks, his averted, shy grimace.

“I used to sit with my grandfather for long hours. Reading. Discussing stories.”

“Did your grandfather also help you practice writing love letters?”

He smiled without mirth. “No. I figured I wanted to make a fool of myself so I documented foolish musings.”

You closed the distance between you. Your face was uplifted, beseeching Ransom to meet your eyes. He could not ignore your presence, attention intense on him and almost more than he could bear.

“Is there truth in these words?” you asked quietly, careful not to spook this man, this loud, cocky man who had presented you with such a convincing disdain for anything sincere.

“It does not matter.”

“It matters. Because you chose me.” You pressed your fingertips to his lip, stopping his protest. Ransom closed his eyes for moment, barely believing you were touching him of your own will. He breathed in your perfume, disoriented by your proximity, your discovery. “Why did you never…?”

“Because I’ve always known such things were childish. My own parents proved to me a long time ago love has little value in a family.”

You shook your head in protest of such cynicism. But the bitter turn of his mouth reminded you of various instances in his family's presence - his parent's demand for recognition and power, his uncle scoffing at expressions of kindness.

“Because I felt foolish for even wanting something different. You were right. Anyone would be lucky to avoid me and my family. We’re a sham. There’s nothing beneath the surface for my parents and they’ve taught me well.”

“There’s more,” you insisted.

“Well then I’m a coward because I can’t bring myself to go in search for more. You were right. I am content with my family’s fortune. I would have been fine growing old alone, but I had to trap you with me. Now, you won’t achieve your marriage of love, your desire for a warm family.”

You cupped his cheeks, forcing him to look at you. “I was the coward.” You drew him down, closing your eyes and pressing your foreheads together. “I saw more in you, but I was afraid. Afraid of risking my heart, afraid I might achieve the very thing that I have been yearning for.”

He whispered your name. You hushed him.

“Tell me. Do you truly love me?”

His breath feathered against your lips. “I love you.” There was such a raw vulnerability in his confession.

“Then that is all that matters. You and I will build the family we dreamed of. I promise.”

Like your vow had snipped him loose of his control, he yanked you in and kissed you hard.

“Be mine,” he murmured between sucks of your lips, drinking you in. “Give me all of you, and I swear, love, I’ll be your family. I’ll give you anything.”

You believed him. Cupped his head in yearning. “Yes. Yes, Ransom.”

His hands tugged impatiently at your gown, dragging the outer layers down. Long fingers pulled at your skirts. You worked at undoing his vest and shirt. Your hands trembled to feel his bare skin, the tickle of chest hair and such warmth emanating against you as he drew you close. You gasped to feel his hands squeezing your curves through your thin shift, seeking with greed for more. He walked you both to the bed and placed you in the middle, laid out for him as he had dreamt for months.

His touch dipped under your shift, setting your heart racing. As his mouth danced lower, he growled, tearing the top of your shift to expose your bare tits and mouth hungrily at them. You couldn’t stop wriggling, clutching around his neck and shoulders, arching up to his tongue that flicked a nipple before sucking.

“I’ve wanted you so long. Want to taste you.”

Before you knew it, you felt him panting at the delicate flesh between your legs, no article of clothing remotely hiding your body from him. He stopped you from closing your thighs, fingertips bruising as he held you open and licked broad stripes at your sex. You had never imagined such sensations, such a heat as Ransom so thoroughly pulled you apart with his mouth.

He watched through his lashes as you writhed, testing what you enjoyed most. His tongue teased at your entrance and then breached you to lash your inner walls. Your sharp cry had him groaning as his hard cock begged for friction. Your gasps bordered on sobs and he needed to see you fall off that edge.

His lips closed around your increasingly wet petals, shaking his head back and forth and sucking hard. When his teeth scraped your clit, your mouth froze open, your back arched off the bed and locked in feverish pleasure. Your rapture pulsed through you as he pressed his tongue flat to your throbbing bud.

“Darling, look at you.” How glorious you looked, soft and panting. Ransom climbed forward to kiss you, sharing the earthy tang of your pleasure. You hummed into his mouth, still drifting in a hazy cloud.

“Look at me, love,” he whispered. You opened your eyes. He watched you, lust and joy burning in his gaze. “You’re mine.”

You nuzzled his nose, whispered, “I’m yours.” Your breath left you as his cock, thick and insistent, pressed into you, pushing in and in until you felt nothing but full.

His lips never stopped kissing your face, your jaw, your mouth. As if he could tell the very instant the sting receded for you, Ransom moved, thrusting shallow. You found yourself wrapped around him, clinging as you had never been so desperate for another person before.

His moans and grunts joined you as he sped up. Everything he was doing, his hips clapping your thighs, his weight caging you, rekindled the thrill in you, the pleasure mounting more when he managed to slide his hand between you and swipe at your clit. You keened, unable to beg him to finish you off, but you knew he would do it. Knew he wouldn’t stop. His mouth sucked at your neck and he angled his thrust just so. You were lost to the world, grinding up against Ransom, chasing the pleasure that crackled from your core. Ransom nearly crushed you to the mattress as his rhythm rose to a frantic end and he released his seed through his swelling cock to fill you.

Your name rasped from him as he ground his hips into you with the instinctual need to ram his seed into your womb.

Long hours later, after Ransom’s need to claim you again resulted in multiple releases for you both, when you had caught your breath, you let him wind his naked form around yours.

You drifted off to his sleepy murmurs of, “I’m yours.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

A month later and Ransom maintained firm control of your attentions, both mental and physical. He seemed intent on desecrating every room of the vast country home. One afternoon, the two of you had toured the family’s art collection. He had lured you into an alcove to view a Verocchio sculpture. You ended up with his face buried between your legs under the sculpture’s shadow, biting your fist to quiet your moans as Ransom’s tongue thrust into you. Right before you came, he slipped out from your skirts, bunching them at your waist and pushing you up against the wall. Your faced pressed into his neck with relief to feel his cock stretch you. Opened you up with rough jolts as your legs drew tight around him. His hips snapped urgently, quickly blazing flames within you until your explosive climax overwhelmed you. He fucked you until he came, biting your shoulder as he rutted hard to push his release deep into you, until you were overfilled and his spend seeped out and trailed between the two of you to mix with your own juices.

Tonight, his desire for you was unrestrained. Already, he had kissed and licked what seemed like every inch of your skin. Your release dripped from you and into his greedy mouth latched to your folds as you came down from your high, tugging his dark locks of hair.

“Ransom, please.”

“Yes, love?” His lips grazed a path up your stomach, then up between your breasts littered with red love bites. He rubbed his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent.

“Need to feel you.”

Ransom grinned. He pulled you upward, lifting and turning you so you rested in his lap with your shoulder blades meeting his chest dusted with fine hair. You arched your back, feeling his hard, leaking cock so hot against your skin. His fingers combed your hair aside, mouth nipping and kissing from your neck to your shoulder.

His hand cupped your sex, groaning at the soaked heat of you. He guided you, lifting up just enough to run the sensitive head of his cock through your folds. Your whine forced more precum to dribble from his slit. He could resist no longer, his cock splitting you open as he drew you down upon his lap until he was buried to the hilt in your tight heat. Soft curses met your ears. You bit your lip, grinding back and forth. Ransom squeezed your waist, held you still.

“Ransom…”

Damned, how he loved the sound of his name falling from you, needy and wrecked from pleasure. And still wanting more of him. He couldn’t begin to guess how someone like him could deserve your affections and loyalty. Good thing he was a greedy bastard, unrepentant of his actions that had blessed his home and bed with you.

Shivers wracked your spine when he cooed at you with his gravelly tone. “You want me, love?”

“Want you so bad.”

He smirked at your whimper when he swirled his groin slow beneath you. His tongue teased along your earlobe, driving a plea from you.

“Want you, Ransom. Oh, please.”

“And you’ll give me what I desire, yes? Will you, love?”

You managed jerky nods, choking when he slid agonizingly slow from your cunt and pushed back into you. Only to stop and hold himself there, speared maddeningly in you.

His breath tickled your ear. “You, love, are going to give me a baby. Yes?”

He drove his hips up, drawing a moan from you.

“Isn’t that right, darling?”

“Y-yes…Rans…ah” You stuttered with his deep, hard strokes.

“Is that what you want? Hm? Big, beautiful family with me?”

“Yes.” Your response rushed out, breathy.

“Love you. Want to fill you up over and over.”

You whined loud, his words and the drag of his thick cock inside you driving you crazy.

“Because you’re mine. You’re all mine.” His hand curled over yours, pressing your palm and fingers to your core where the two of you were joined beneath dark curls. “Feel that?”

“Oh god.” You surely felt what he wanted you to. His steely member claiming you again and again.

“Yes, feel me and you? This.” He kept your hand there, feeling every push and pull of his cock, from inside and out, so you couldn’t escape him. “Feel how you belong to me? All of you. You’re mine forever.”

“I’m yours….” You cried out as his rhythm sped up. “Ransom!”

You threw your head back, both yours and his fingers circling the nub of your inflamed clit, his harsh breaths beating against your neck as his words blended.

“Mine,” he grunted.

Your pleasure burst like a dam, your release splashed and squirted out, then throbbed with his relentless touch. The wave spread outward, tensing your muscles, buzzing upon your skin. Feeling you squeeze and flutter around him drove Ransom to the brink until all he could think of was filling you, rooting his seed into you so you grew soft and big with his child. You were the beginning and finish of his everything.

Ransom couldn’t stop himself. His strokes grew uneven but remained deep, hard, determined. His arm wrapped around you tight as he launched you both forward, driving you onto your hands and knees so he could rut as deep as possible. You moaned, overcome with the hot rush of his seed filling you and his cock pounding it deeper into you.

You both settled into the bed with tangled limbs, slowing your breaths and the ache of desire. Your toes curled, enjoying the pressure of his cock nestled in you still, content that you both were looking forward to your first child. To a family all your own.

#siris5ksoftdarkchallenge #fanfiction #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #smut #ransom drysdale x woc!reader

[my-soul-sings]

kiss the girl | ch 1

Fandom: Tears of Themis Characters: Artem x Reader 

Summary: Armed with a trusty book, Artem Wing attempts to win the woman of his dreams.

A/N: Artem’s personal story cracked me up so much that I had to write a fic about him with a less dense MC to troll him. :) 

***

It’s no secret that Artem is a genius. As the youngest person in Stellis to become a senior attorney, the firm has attracted hordes of clients seeking his services despite his higher-than-average hourly billing rates. Themis Law Firm may be a relatively new firm and much smaller compared to the bigger, reputable and more established ones in Stellis, but Artem’s presence has made it a force to be reckoned with in this industry. 

And yet, despite being perhaps one of the finest lawyers of his time, the Artem you know is quite something else altogether. You don’t really know how to explain it. Sure, he’s your boss and you admire his work ethic, intelligence, wit, charisma… the list could go on and on. But over the past few weeks it’s become evident that even geniuses like Artem lack in some ways. 

In Artem’s case, the area of lack is painfully obvious.

“So what kind of man are you into? We’ve all shared, it’s your turn now.” Celestine is sitting on the edge of your desk, a playful smirk on her lips as she sips her coffee. 

“Well… I don’t know…” Your words trail off as your eyes dart towards the pantry, where you spot the familiar back of your boss who’s trying very hard to blend into the side of the fridge at the moment. Needless to say, he’s not doing a very good job. He’s been stirring that cup of coffee for the past ten minutes now—yes, you’ve been keeping track ever since you noticed him come to the pantry for coffee despite having a coffee machine in his own office—and you’ve already spotted him glancing over in your direction at least twice when he thought you weren’t looking.

It’s been like this for the past few weeks. You didn’t really pick up on the signs at first: Artem leaving work almost always at the same time that you do, your conversations about work almost always ending with personal questions to get to know your likes and dislikes, and the unusual number of times he would walk out of his office a day to pay a visit to the pantry, only to leave empty-handed. 

But one incident became two, two became four, and it didn’t take much brainpower to figure out that he was oddly interested in matters involving you. It doesn’t matter if it’s about work or about your personal life, he seems to want to know everything, but especially about your love life and love interests. 

If the fact that he’s been not-so-subtly eavesdropping on your conversations with Kiki and Celestine in the office isn’t clear enough, then nothing will be.

You could just clear the air with him directly, although there’s that lingering fear of, “What if he isn’t actually interested?” It’s not like you can read his mind; maybe he’s just doing this shoddy spywork in an attempt to know his employees better. Something about employee welfare and morale building maybe—you wouldn’t put it past him. 

But then you think about it deeper and realise it can’t be, especially not when Celestine isn’t that subtle either with her pointed glances in your direction before staring straight at Artem with a smirk on her lips. She obviously knows what Artem is up to and is in on it somehow, which might be why lately she’s been asking you all sorts of questions relating to your love life whenever Artem happens to stroll into the pantry yet again. 

Just like that three weeks have passed, and you still haven’t gotten around to talking to Artem about it. It’s not for a lack of guts; really, it’s not. It’s just… it’s quite amusing to see Artem Wing, the youngest senior attorney in Stellis, a brilliant mind who usually has the answers to every legal problem, at a complete and utter loss. 

“The kind of guy I like… I think I’ll know when I meet him...” The answer is deliberately vague, which makes Kiki groan and Celestine click her tongue in dissatisfaction. Your attention, however, is focused on the back figure of your boss whose head is now drooping like a wilted flower. 

“...and I think I’ve found one.” 

In that instant, his head perks up, as do Kiki’s and Celestine’s. They begin to badger you for details, but your stubborn lips won’t budge. When you hear footsteps coming from the pantry, you allow your eyes to dart upwards only once, and you see Artem’s usual cool demeanour and straight face as he returns to his office. 

Your lips curl into a tiny smirk when you notice that the mug of cold coffee is still sitting on the pantry counter. 

***

She found one… 

The sentence she just said is playing over like a broken record in his head, much like when he’s mulling over a witness’ statement when preparing for a cross-examination. 

Does that mean she’s met someone who might be her type? Or is she already dating someone?

No wait, it can’t be the latter. She just told Celestine last week that she wasn’t seeing anyone because she’s “married to work”. 

A chuckle spills past his lips before he realises it—that’s the kind of thing he tells his relatives when they pester him about not having a girlfriend at his age. 

His smile quickly fades however, when he remembers the dilemma he’s in. Her answer left no room for him to guess what kind of guy she likes, let alone whether he fits into that box. And the fact that she’s found someone who’s her type… Does that mean he’s already lost the battle before he could even try? 

A knock on his office door jolts him out of his reverie, and he barely has time to clear his throat and fix his tie before Celestine enters the room. There’s only one reason she comes into his office when he doesn’t call her in, and it’s written all over her amused face. 

“I think she noticed you in the pantry this time. You stood there for way too long—even Kiki was starting to notice.” 

Artem groans, leaning back in his seat and turning away so Celestine won’t have to see him crumble internally and wallow in shame. First, she has a type, and now she’s noticed him needlessly hanging around the pantry, suspecting that he’s been eavesdropping on her conversations (which he has). She must think poorly of him now. 

“Don’t look so down, I think you still have a shot.” 

“What shot?” he asks with a sigh, fumbling with the knot of his tie to loosen it. “She’s already found someone who’s her type.”

“She never said she was dating him. She could just be, you know...” Celestine waves her hand in a gesture that Artem can’t understand, “...making a general statement of some sort. Point is, you can still try. Don’t give up.” 

“As a lawyer, shouldn’t you be advising your client to give up if there are better alternative modes of settlement?” 

His know-it-all response is not appreciated, and Celestine folds her arms across her chest, glowering at him. “Artem. She’s not a case that you need to solve. This is about love! Romance! The heart! Read a book about it, will you?” 

“I have, but nothing has worked so far. The advice in the book is at best ineffective, at worst a hoax.” He glares at the book on his desk, and Celestine follows his gaze to it before she recognises it as the book she’d given him a few weeks back. 

For the first time since coming in, her gaze turns into something more sympathetic. Artem isn’t sure he appreciates the sentiment. 

“Trust me on this, Artem. Don’t give up yet. I really think you still have a chance.”

“I do?” He perks up at that, raising a brow. “Did she say something about me?” 

“Not exactly…” Celestine grimaces when he starts sulking again. “But it’s a woman’s intuition. Trust me. I know her better than you do.” 

At his prolonged silence, she adds, “We both know my intuition is way more reliable than your gut feelings when it comes to relationship advice.”

The silence lingers on for a few more minutes, before Artem finally relents with a sigh. He doesn’t say anything however, merely fixing his tie and picking up the book from his desk to put in his drawer. 

“...You really should get back to work now.”

“Got it, boss.” Her tone is patronising as always, and she throws what’s probably meant to be an encouraging smile his way before she finally leaves him alone to his thoughts, although Artem can’t help but wonder if she’s still laughing at him internally.

In his now quiet office, his breathing is the only thing that can be heard. He picks up his pen and flips open the case file he was reading earlier before he left to visit the pantry. 

But then not even a minute passes before his office is filled with the repeated sound of a pen clicking, a dejected sigh... and then the sound of his drawer opening once more. 

#tears of themis #tears of themis artem #artem wing #artem #tears of themis fanfiction #tears of themis fanfic #artem fanfiction #artem wing fanfiction #artem fanfic #he cracks me up so much #my writing #kiss the girl

[yesimwriting]

Crossing lines

General Kirigan/the darkling x reader

Summary: This was requested by my friend @vvsdiamond28 who also writes and has a really good kirigan x reader story up right now! The request was basically for a fic in which the reader is out wandering at night and runs into kirigan while he’s in the banya and then they get to talking and some other stuff before he admits to only trusting the reader and giving her his real name. This gets kinda steamy bc of the request and bc the story called for it lol but it’s not full smut bc i decided that it would be better to do that as a part 2 so that i could add some jealousy tension haha

a/n i think im back?? Ive been working on requests a lot and ive really enjoyed writing regularly again. A small side note, after rewatching revenge of the sith im kinda in the mood to try writing an anakin fic 😭 pls he was my OG fictional crush,, so either send help or a request for him or something, Anyways,, back to this fic--ahh i had fun writing it but i still feel awkward writing steamier stuff so be nice!! 

-- 

Those that wander in the night, lost in uneasy thought--there’s probably a lot that can be said about them. But I can’t think of anything to be said about me. Nothing good comes from walking around a place full of powerful and tense people in the middle of the night. It wouldn’t take much effort to interpret my actions as suspicious, and yet I continue forward. I’m an idiot--just because I can’t sleep doesn’t mean I have to wander around campgrounds. My presence is barely tolerated here, I shouldn’t try backstroking in waters I can barely tread. 

But still, I walk, eyes more fixated on the open night sky than anything else. The moon is as full as an overflowing glass, the stars twinkling as if desperate to compete with a light it will never be able to duplicate. I sigh, pressing my lips together. Maybe the stars and I have more in common than I thought. Normally, that would be a good thing. 

Letting out a weary breath, I continue forward, away from the relative safety of the main tents. I’m still on the grounds, I’m approaching the border where the tents of higher ranking officials are. That should make me more nervous, but if anything it almost eases me slightly. 

General Kirigan is not the type to be friendly, and yet our interactions have always been laced with a touch of intimacy I can’t quite explain. We’ve been alone together more and more frequently, and I think that’s how I like him best. It’s strange, but when we’re alone some of his sharpness dulls, leaving space for something I might consider humor or actual personality on anyone else. He probably speaks to many girls like that when they’re alone together--a fact I have to fight to remind myself of--but it’s the closest thing to friendship I have here. Maybe it’s foolish to hold onto that, but I can’t bring myself to release my grip on those sentiments. At least not yet, when the kind moments are still rare and fleeting and no line has been crossed. 

The danger, however, comes from the prospect of not recognizing lines before they’re crossed. Even now, as I walk aimlessly in the night, pacing in hopes of exhausting my thoughts, I’m crossing lines in a much more literal way and even these are ill defined. I must be in new territory now, and even that I can only vaguely recognize because of the strangely humid scent that surrounds this area of the grounds. 

I’m near the banya. I didn’t intend to wander here, but the thought of splashing water on my face is too tempting to pass up on. I move closer, finding a sense of peace in having some direction, even in a small way. 

When the promise of water is only steps away, I begin to regret everything. There’s a figure in the bath. I freeze, ready to attempt to shrink away in hopes of disappearing before I’m caught. This could easily turn extremely awkward even though I technically haven’t done anything. Most people don’t bathe at this hour. Who bathes this late at night? 

I keep my eyes on the individual, trying to make out who they are and how aware they are of their surroundings in the dim light. Pale skin, dark hair--unbelievably attractive torso. My eyes linger there longer than they should. I force my gaze upwards, towards their face as if that can erase my ogling. Embarrassment leaves my face burning--I’m not the ‘ogling’ type, and this person doesn’t even know I’m here. I keep my eyes on them as I step back, taking in unaware features as best I can in the dark. 

I know them--I--Saints, it’s Kirigan. 

Fantastic. Of course he has to be even more impossibly attractive while shirtless and wet. I turn my head upwards sharply, more desperate to not be caught than ever. I would never, ever recover from being caught. Whether he’d tease me or be angry with me, I don’t know. I also don’t know which option I’d prefer. 

I step back again, my gait wider due to my urgency. Snap. The sound of both a twig and my chance of a stealthy escape being shattered. I cringe, craning my neck to the left in a desperate attempt to make it clear that I wasn’t watching him. I take another desperate step, ready to duck behind a nearby tree. Maybe he hasn’t seen me--maybe he’s distracted and assumed that some kind of rabbit or something passed by. He may not actively dislike me, but I’m not sure any semblance of favor he may have for me extends to this situation.

“Y/n.” His tone reveals nothing but his level of certainty. Ignoring him will only make me seem guilty. 

I pause, keeping my gaze off of him. “Yes.” It wasn’t really a question, and yet I still answer it like one. “I was--I couldn’t sleep so I thought I’d get some air, and I was walking kind of aimlessly and I ended up here and I didn’t think anyone would be here.” Why do I feel like I’m making this situation worse? “I’m sorry--I’m gonna--I’m going to go now.” This is the kind of embarrassing moment that will come back to me when I’m trying to fall asleep at night. I know it.

“You know the polite thing to do after intruding is to make eye contact.” 

I don’t think my face has ever felt this warm before. At least he doesn’t sound angry, but his voice doesn’t reveal that much. I raise my gaze carefully, turning my head slowly. “I didn’t mean,” I exhale slowly, “It wasn’t my intention to intrude.” 

He straightens slightly at my words, exposing more of his chest. I stay still, eyes trained on his to avoid an accidental lapse. “You could make it up to me by offering conversation.” Kirigan’s tone is deliberate, his words measured and calm. I don’t speak, feeling like I’m being presented a test I don’t understand, but most of our conversations leave me feeling like that. “Only if you’re comfortable.” 

And just like that, I’m backed into a corner. A challenge. To deny him now would be to expose the effect he has on me. My chin raises a fraction of an inch as I take in that assured half-smirk. “Why wouldn’t I be comfortable?” 

Kirigan arches a dark brow, assessing my response. “Then sit,” his voice has not changed, “You want air and I want company.” 

I don’t think anyone that looks as good as he does shirtless has ever had trouble finding company, especially with the smooth way he speaks. Despite this, I step forward to accept his challenge without calling him out on his coyness. Each step is the crossing of another invisible line until I’m near the water’s edge. I make sure to keep my nightgown at a respectable length as I sit down. 

I make a point of extending my legs towards the water while leaning back so that I can’t be easily accused of being a coward. “I feel the need to warn you that I might not make particularly interesting company.”

He angles his head to the side slightly, drawing attention to his jawline and neck. I force my stare to focus on the water. “I’ve never found you uninteresting.” 

There’s something resigned in the way he says this. On instinct, I look up, taking in the slight softening of his features. The release of his usual sternness only adds to his beauty, a fact that I’m already resenting. 

“You may be the only one.” It’s not meant to be a deprecating comment, but I’m not sure my partial laugh softens my bitterness. I hope it does--I’d rather his interest than the interest of my entire unit. 

Kirigan shifts forward, the water moving with him. “Do you think that any coldness you’re experiencing has to do with you?” 

The question has me drawing my eyebrows together. What else could it be? I shrug, “I’ve considered it.” 

He nods once, eyes hardening slightly. “Do you always have trouble sleeping?” 

The personalness of the question shouldn’t surprise me as much as it does. Kirigan seems to only understand boundaries when he’s the one setting them. “Not really.” A partial lie--this time I’m glad I can’t quite bring myself to look at him. “It’s not uncommon for me, but it’s not something I deal with every night.” 

I risk shifting my eyeline when I hear the sound of water moving. Kirigan’s now resting an arm on the rim of the pool, wet skin dangerously close to my ankle and lower calf. “It’s not always easy,” his voice is low now, “Being alone with your thoughts.” 

That’s not the kind of reply I’d expect from him. I blink twice before turning to study his expression. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him seem so tired--so weary and human and in need of something. The line between his eyebrows and the far off quality of his eyes leave me with the strong desire to give whatever it is he needs to him. The urge to reach out, to touch him in hopes of breaking him free from his odd trance leaves my stomach knotted. That line is too clear to cross so recklessly.

I need to chase away the serious atmosphere he’s created. “Is that why you bathe so late at night?” I let myself smile, “To avoid thoughts?” 

“I like the peace of it.” Something akin to amusement touches his words. “And for the record, little dove,” the nickname is pointed and earns him an eyeroll, “The warm water doesn’t exactly chase away thoughts so much as encourages others.” He pauses. “You understand, considering you can barely look at me.”

This is the most embarrassing thing to have ever happened. The suggestive jilt to his words has to be intentional. Damn him. I turn my head, forcing myself to meet his gaze. “I can look at you just fine.” 

“And if I were a Heartrender and could hear your heartbeat your pulse would be normal?” The question is teasing, a small smile pulling at his lips. 

The warmth in my face increases, spreading down my neck. Kirigan’s expression remains smug. “You’re not as funny as you think you are.” 

“No?” He leans forward, angling his head so close to me I can faintly feel the warmth of his breath on my lower calf. “I find myself amusing.” 

At least being around him like this is getting easier. I open my mouth, ready to provide some sarcastic comment I haven’t thought out yet. My mouth clamps shut on instinct when I feel his touch on my ankle. The faint contact quickly grows, his fingers brushing up my ankle and calf, leaving drops of cool water across my skin.

“What are you doing?” That’s a--a fair question, right? I’m not sure, rational thought slipping from me more and more with each passing second. 

“Nothing, really,” his reply is quick. “Nervous?” 

There is no way he doesn’t know what he’s doing. I roll my eyes, fighting against my instinctual fluster. “No,” a full lie, “You’re just getting me wet.” 

“Barely.” When he’s not busy being brooding he’s not much better than an irritating child. He retracts his hand slowly, fingers grazing my skin slowly as he submerges his hand beneath the water. The loss of contact should feel like a victory. It doesn’t. “Y/n,” he shifts closer, back straightening.

There’s an odd seriousness to his demeanor that almost leaves me reeling. “Yes?” 

He beckons me forward. I hesitate, but comply, letting myself shift closer to the water’s edge. Kirgan’s lips part, but no words leave him before he moves his arm, purposefully splashing water over my thighs and bottom of my nightgown. I let out an instinctively annoyed sound. “That is getting you wet.” 

“Kirigan!” My tone is as menacing as I can make it, but he continues to grin. There’s such a lightness to the look I almost forget to be annoyed. Almost. “I should tell the entire Second Army how much of a child you are.” 

My threat does nothing, his smile softening without fading. “They fear me too much for your stories to make a difference.” He says this flatly. “All of them except you.” 

I don’t know if I’m supposed to make something of that comment. A brief moment passes in which I think his eyes come close to softening. Maybe that’s a side effect of seeing the world as you want. Wait...what do I want? Him? No, no, I can’t. 

Okay, he’s objectively attractive and sometimes I think I may see more depth in him than he wants to be capable of. But that doesn’t mean I’m allowed to want anything with him. Even if he was trustworthy enough for me to be with him in any capacity...even casually, it could never happen. Nothing good could come from having relations with the highest ranked general and I doubt he’d ever want me like that. He likes to fluster people and I’m an easy target. I just accept it because being some level of entertainment to him is better than being nothing to everyone. 

“I don’t think there’s much point in fear.” It feels like a fair answer. The fairest answer I can manage, anyways. 

He sighs, the sound heavy. His hand stretches forward cautiously. I watch him and make no attempt to stop him from touching my lower calf. His fingers trace absentmindedly across the skin. “Of course you’d think that.” 

Again, I don’t know what to make of his words. Or his actions. He couldn’t find anything wrong with me just slightly adjusting my position. It’d be a polite way to remind us both of the natural order of things. But then again, someone like him is allowed to be mad about anything. And I’m not sure I want to remind us of our place. 

Actually, I’m completely sure that I want the opposite of that. But admitting that to myself is enough of a risk. I’ve already crossed thousands of tiny lines and what I want will require us to cross a thousand more. 

“I’m a little surprised you’re not reminding me how foolish a notion like that can be.” 

He lets out a tiny breath as he shifts even closer to me. “Maybe I’m enjoying your foolishness.” 

“I’m not sure if I should take that as a compliment or the opposite.” 

The slightest hint of a smile is visible to me beneath the moon’s glow. There’s something about darkness that adds beauty to things. I wait for him to reply, but instead of speaking his  hand moves further up my leg. I struggle to hide my reaction to his long fingers trailing up my skin.

He’s touched me before, sure. Tiny moments in which he’d push a strand of hair out of my face or wipe at a bit of dirt on my cheekbone. More recently, he had gripped my hip firmly to guide me through a crowd of soldiers. He had been in a hurry, stealing me from a conversation with the only member of my unit that’s been somewhat friendly to me. It wasn’t serious--he had just been rushing me because he only had a minute between meetings and apparently he had too long of a day to not take a moment to speak with me. 

“Are you alright, Dovey?” Normally, the nickname and all of its variations earns him an eyeroll. But everything is a lot less humorous with his hand half up my lower leg, leaving a trail of cool water wherever he touches. 

His fingers press more firmly into my skin. “Yes, I’m fine--it’s just late.” 

“Hm…” Kirigan breathes before tilting his head slightly. “You’re warm.” I stay silent as his hand shifts slightly. “Perhaps too warm.” 

If I’m hot that has absolutely nothing to do with fever. “I’m fine, General, I promise.” 

“Come closer,” he says, “It’ll take me no time to check.” 

...A little too convenient. My nightgown is still embarrassingly damp from the last time I eased tonight. “Please tell me you don’t find me that naive.” 

“Naive? No.” He lifts his hand slightly. “Warm? Yes.” I still don’t trust him. “I’m not going to do anything. I promise.” 

His eyes are dark and the limited lighting of the moon doesn’t offer me much in my analysis, but what I can see makes him seem genuine. “Why do I feel like that’s not the first time you’ve had to say that?” Despite my comment, I move towards him. 

The back of Kirigan’s palm is pressed to my forehead for less than a second. He brushes his hand down the side of my temple, rotating his wrist so that his fingertips can touch my cheek. His hand then continues to move down my jawline and then my neck...and then finally trails down my collarbone. I bite my tongue to avoid exhaling audibly at the contact. 

“Warm,” he concludes with a tsk, and yet he doesn’t withdraw his hand. “Though that could just have to do with the climate.” His thumb slips beneath the sleeve of my nightgown. “Perhaps you could benefit from joining me.” 

I bite my tongue to avoid letting out a surprised, embarrassingly enthusiastic squeak. I don’t know what’s gotten into him...maybe it’s the night air and the prospect of being fully alone. I should be strong enough to break whatever spell he’s starting to place on me. But I’m not. I’m really, really not. 

He pulls on the sleeve of my nightgown slightly. “I’m…” 

“Unless you’re nervous?” Another damn challenge. To shy away from this would be to expose myself. He tugs on the sleeve a little more assuredly, exposing my shoulder to the humid night. “Do I make you nervous?” 

His voice comes out a shallow rasp. I feel it straight in my core. “...Not more than you should.” 

“More than I should?” 

Ugh--too honest. I let myself get distracted. It shouldn’t be too difficult to explain what I meant. He knows he’s feared. He wants to be feared. “I’m sure we’re both aware that there are a fair amount of cautionary tales revolving around you.” 

His hand falls next to my lap. Oh? I didn’t expect to miss the contact between us so much. His expression seems to have fallen slightly as well. Was it my response to his question? It felt fair and straightforward without being too blunt. “And you believe every cautionary tale you hear?” 

There’s something stiff about the way he asks the question. His moodiness is making me miss his touchiness even more. At least then I didn’t have to feel like I made a mistake. Did I say something wrong? “Should I?”

“It depends on whether or not you plan on being brave.” 

“I told you...I don’t see much point in fear.” 

“And yet you’re still there.” A bit of humor returns to his voice. “Why is that?” 

Rolling my eyes, I shift forward, letting my legs dip into the water. This is as far as I should let this go. I’ve already lost too much more control. “Better?” He’s strangely tense again, a hint of something bitter playing at the smug look he tries for. “You alright?”

“Of course you’d ask me that.” He says this with a tired sigh. “You can never make things easy.” 

“I don’t understand.” 

He shifts backwards slightly. I can feel the distance between us like I’d feel a pebble in my shoe. “Do you believe all the stories about me?” 

Is he still bothered by that? “I didn’t mean it as literally as you’re taking it. All I meant is that people are intimidated by you, but that’s not a bad thing. It’s the way things have to be, you’re the only Shadow Summoner in existence and the army needs you to be intimidating so that they can act on your guidance.”

“The way things have to be,” he echoes, his voice strangely weighted. “There’s a specific kind of loneliness that comes with being feared by everyone.” 

Oh--I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t that. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him feel defeated like that. I reach for his hand without thinking, pulling his fingers towards my lap. “I don’t--I’m not scared of you.” It’s a weak attempt to comfort him, but it’s the only one I can think of. “That probably doesn’t mean anything, but I--” 

His hand turns in my lap, squeezing the exposed part of my thigh. “It means something.” Kirigan’s voice has hardened in a different way. “You’re the only person I’m certain of.” 

Everything in me seems to tighten at that. At the implication of something so personal from someone so closed off. “Kirigan, you don’t have to be as alone as you feel. You talk to me all the time and you do so in a way that makes it easy to forget the cautionary tales.” His hand moves further up my thigh. I fight as I try to remember our usual dynamic. “You’re the only one that talks to me like that.” 

“Have you ever considered that maybe the others refuse to take to you because of the favor I’ve shown you? The instinct to stay away from me is strong enough to extend to those around me.” Kirigan’s hand moves higher up my thigh. “To be near me is to involve solitude.” 

“I don’t care.” The answer leaves me too quickly. “Being near you is worth it.” 

He leans closer before resting his chin on my knee with no hesitation. “Careful, you don’t understand the line you tread.” Kirigan places his hand more firmly between my thighs. “Or perhaps you do...perhaps you know what you want to cross.” 

This time I can’t help the airy sigh that leaves me. Kirigan pushes against my thigh slightly, separating my legs. I feel his breath on my inner thigh before I know what’s going on. I can’t move, I can’t think, I can’t even breathe. That inability to do anything but feel my heart pound against my chest only worsens as I feel his lips press into the inside of my thigh. His lips trail up my skin before his teeth gently sink into the top of my thigh. 

“Is the line you want to cross?” He breathes the question so softly I feel like I’m being coddled. Everything in me feels too hot to think of any kind of coherent response. Kirigan uses his free hand to pull the fabric of my nightgown as high up my thighs as he can from his position below me. “Or maybe this is the line you want to cross?” Kirigan pulls me forward so suddenly I let out a tiny gasp. I’m not fully on the edge of the banya. “Or perhaps this one?” He kisses the skin of my inner thigh gently. Each time I exhale too loudly, his teeth graze my skin. He gets harsher with each passing second. “Lay down.” 

My body listens to him on instinct. How is this happening? How am I this powerless to fight against something that’s so clearly wrong? The sound of water shifting causes my entire body to tense. He’s pulled himself out of the water. Kirigan moves above me instantly, water dripping from his toned chest and dark hair and onto my still damp nightgown. 

Before I can speak, he’s on me completely, his lips pressing against my jaw. He kisses down my neck, his teeth grazing against my skin sporadically. He pulls away from me by tracing his tongue across my collar bone. I let out something dangerously close to a moan. “Such pretty, little sounds.” 

“Kirigan--” 

“The only name I want you to hear from your lips is the only name that I’ve not given myself. The only name that holds meaning to me.” 

His lips graze where my skin meets the hem of my now soaked through nightgown. I’m not sure the poor lighting is offering me enough coverage now. There’s no way the thin fabric leaves much to the imagination while being this wet. He kisses up my chest and neck until his lips reach the shell of my ear. 

“Aleksander.” The name is grace in the form of a breath so soft it’s more like I’m feeling the name than actually hearing it. 

He presses his lips against the spot on my neck directly beneath my ear. I exhale into the contact. “Aleksander.” As I test his true name on my tongue, his teeth dig into my skin much more harshly than before. 

I let out a partial squeak at the sudden shift in pace as his hands grip my waist. “Say it again. Say my name again.”

He traces his tongue gingerly over the skin he just aggravated with his teeth before I can speak. The soothing sensation is so much I can barely find my voice. “Aleksander.” 

His hand bunches the bottom of my nightgown, raising the fabric to my hips. “...Say it just like that.” Kirgan’s rough hand slips between the bone of my hip and the fabric of my hip. “Like I’m the only one that knows you like this.”

“Aleksander.” I breathe as he traces invisible patterns into my skin with his lips. “Aleksander.” Each use of his name earns me extra attention--a stronger hold on my hip, a more adamant nip at the base of my neck. I feel my need for him so heavily I swear it’s leaked into my bones. “Aleksander.”

When he pulls away, I fight the urge to whine. The night is still humid, but with the absence of his touch I feel like I’m shivering. He regards me silently for a long moment before shifting his weight again. I feel my heart stall in my chest as his hand softly brushes a strand of hair out of my face. He lets his hand linger there, at the apple of my cheek. The entire world seems to stall as he leans down, his hand cupping the side of my face as his mouth inches closer to mine. 

“I can feel the fluttering of your heart.” 

Any poor defense dies in my throat as his lips meet mine. He gives me no time to think about what’s happening as he presses into me even harder. Kirigan holds my face as his teeth graze against my bottom lip. My mouth opens slightly in surprise, giving him the opportunity he needs to slip his tongue into my mouth. His tongue slowly brushes against mine, coaxing me into total, delirious, compliance. When he starts to pull away, I react, my hands flying forward to grab his hair. He lets me get away with tugging him towards me, prolonging the kiss as he bites my bottom lip. 

One of his hands leaves my face and travels up the hands holding onto his hair. He pulls me off of him easily, pinning both of my wrists above my head with one hand. “Easy,” Kirigan warns, “You’ve been such a good girl, let’s not ruin it before we’ve started.” 

A tiny sigh leaves me. I can feel the pride he takes in that as his hand trails further down my body. His fingers ghost along the hem of my underwear teasingly. 

“Is someone there?” I’ve never damned the voice of a stranger more. 

Panic and dread roll in my stomach. I’m going to get caught like this, with my nightgown bunched at my hips beneath the General Kirigan. An unclothed, wet, General Kirigan. “I’m bathing.” 

Okay...good...Aleksander spoke. Anyone with common sense would run at the thought of invading on Kirgan’s privacy. It’s a good thing that the soldier had the sense to linger behind a thicket of bushes. “Pardon General, but there’s been a crucial development. A new strategy should be thought of as soon as possible.” 

No. No. The thought of losing contact so entirely, of having a moment that should have never happened be ripped from me before it’s even really happened is overwhelming. I feel my lips pull into a pout. Kirigan’s hand adjusts on me, his thumb pressing teasingly over where I’m neediest. I bite my tongue to avoid making an inappropriate noise. 

“Five minutes--I’ll be in the strategy tent in five minutes.” 

“I’ll tell the others, General.”

Great. I hear the stranger disappear, his feet crushing twigs and grass as he leaves us. Aleksander’s attention returns to me quickly. Disappointment swells in my chest as I take in the solemn look that crosses his features. His hand moves to my chin quickly before pulling me into another deep kiss. It’s too short lived. 

“I have to go.” 

Frowning, I lift my hand to trace my fingers up his arm. It’s softer than I should allow myself to be, but it doesn’t really matter anymore. Not when this is probably never going to happen again. “Do you?” I mumble to myself, half joking.

He sighs once, his thumb brushing against my cheek. “No pouting.” 

Now that whatever little bubble we were in has popped, I’m capable of normal feelings. Including shame. “I am n--” 

“Easy, little dove, I’ll remember all of this when I find you again.” 

This...this is going to happen again? “You’re going to find me?” 

“I haven’t yet heard your voice crack on my name as I undo you.” He punctuates the promise with a kiss to my jaw. “Again.” Another kiss. “And again.” Another brush of his lips as he finally pulls away. “And again.” 

My breath catches itself in my throat as he moves off of me entirely. Damn whatever change in the war that’s pulled him away from me so suddenly. I sit up as he stands. I’m not sure where to look now that he’s not in close enough proximity to cloud my thoughts. I should leave as he dresses, but I can’t quite bring myself to. It doesn’t feel safe, not when the man that interrupted us could reappear at any moment. Not when I want to hold onto his presence like this as long as possible. 

 He squeezes my shoulder warmly as he passes before bending down to press one more kiss next to where his hand is. 

“Soon,” he promises again. 

--

General taglist: @theincredibledeadlyviper, @grishaverse7 @benbarnes-supremacy  @tranquilitymoon @kaitlyn2907 @lunamyangel @christinawxxx @deceivedeer @real-mbappe @tonks33

#the darklling x reader #the darkling #the darkling smut #the darkling imagine #the darkling x reader msut #general kirigan #general kirigan x reader #general kirigan imagine #general kirigan x reader smut #aleksander morozova #aleksander morozova imagine #aleksander morozova x reader #grishaverse #grishaverse x reader #grishaverse x you #grishaverse imagine #grishaverse imagines #shadow and bone #shadow and bone fic #shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bone imagine #shadow and bone show #shaodow and bone netflix

[antiloreolympus]

10 Anti LO Asks

1. A deconstruction (which its definition is to look at the smaller parts and whys of how something was created) of the HxP myth would be looking into how ancient values played into why Persephone & Demeter were left out of the decision making process, why Hades didn't properly court her, what went into Demeter being away from Olympus and why she stood up for her daughter instead of accepting it, etc, not making up everything to where it resembles no myth at all. That's lying, not deconstruction.

2. RS def seems like she read about tropes AFTER LO was published and seems to think “ah yes that’s what I’m doing too!” But that’s not how it works?? Like she also claimed LO was a “twist on the monster boyfriend” genre when it’s very clearly not?? She seems to think even mentioning something or having even a vague similarity to a common writing trope is in fact the trope and by virtue of her being the writer she’s “deconstructing” it when she’s?? Not using those tropes or deconstructing them?? Also she needs to stop claiming she’s deconstructing anything. When she actually plays with actual tropes (like the massive age gap with the man as the more powerful one to the woman who needs him) it’s entirely played straight, which is the exact opposite of deconstructing? Idk it seems like trying to come off as more clever of a writer than she is when it’s ok to admit she’s not? Like girl you’re using common fanfic tropes from 2014 please stop acting like you’re deeper than that. 

3. Rachel: MY character Persephone

Greece and it’s people, both ancient and modern: excuse me?

4. ngl i feel like Persephone/Kore was deliberately dumbed down from the start of the comic to play up the angle of her as a pure and innocent uwu bean. it removes depth from her character because in the earlier chapters she was naive but not completely ignorant. but then she's only 19. and then goddesses of eternal maidenhood. and then her not knowing basic phrasing of "sleeping to the top" despite knowing in chapter 1 that Zeus and his brothers are known because they sex a lot...they stole her brain cells

5. Also can we talk about how horrifying Hera's actions are from Demeter's point of view. Imagine your sibling setting up your child with their brother in law. A dude as old as you. Behind your back. Your college age daughter. Not once even thinking to check with you before creating and internship specifically to give them a chance to hook up. And we are supposed to find Demeter's outrage funny. Man I would murder my sibling.2-2

6. I just wish the people who insist there actually is this super special secret ~real~ version of the H/P myth actually backed it up, because as soon as you press them on it they immediately go silent and try and change the subject. Like surely if it's this well known and real, show us the proof! Hell, make Rachel show proof of it that's not just a tumblr post! I'll wait!

7. at best maybe you could argue the shades being "unpaid labor" is a commentary on unpaid internships but 1) even internships end, the shades are stuck with that forever, 2) they are done willingly, the shades are forced into it, but also 3) rachel does realize even then hades is still the bad guy in it, right? like idk how she thought he looks GOOD for it? yt women are so weird.

8. OSP also while defending Hades and Persephone as the only "functional" relationship and that the kidnapping was "just how marriage went" will insist Zeus, Apollo, and others are evil for having (actual) consenting relationships with women they carried off (as opposed to Hades, where the text always says he kidnaps her). Anyone acting like OSP or Rachel are good faith actors for actual mythology knowledge and not a vessel of their Tumblr rotted biases is ignoring what's right in front of them.

9. what i dont get is you get the stans defending it like "we need this because i also have a bad mom too!!" like ok one please go to therapy but also if you really need to feel "represented" in myth with a bad mom then the eros and psyche myth is right there, or any myth with hera, or clytemnestra is right there, and many more. they dont need to have rachel butcher one of the few positive mother-daughter myths feel "represented", esp when it's to prop up a man who was the bad party in the OG myth.

10. RS cant even explain persephone's ridiculous coloring without overstating how ~perfect~ she is. i would actually respect how nonsensical and immature this writing is if it werent for the fact RS much fancies herself the next Homer who is also the peak of feminist literature and is improving the mythology. yes, the gods are better and more beautiful than any mortal, but it's an even field when its just them. persephone being "perfect" doesnt make up for her lack of .. anything, really.

#anti lo #anti lore olympus #lore olympus critical #lo critical

[chisheya]

hanahaki disease [niragi x reader x chishiya] highschool au!

Summary: love is reckoned to make us powerful; not susceptible - as much as i tried to convince myself that. as much as i tried to stay strong; tough and heroic, enough to risk it all and let my emotions surge on the exterior. strong enough to be crushed yet again, to love and be loved again - knowing my fragility. 

 i’ve known the agony and lament sufficiently enough that it demolished my sanity, left my soul burning away, gradually fading into ashes and disappearing like dust under the moonlight’s breeze. and the funny unfunny part is - i wish i had told him, perhaps one day i will. 

‘‘I have loved you since I first laid eyes on you. My love bloomed like a flower in my chest.’‘

Tag list: (if you want to be tagged, let me know because the previous post got deleted for some weird reason lol)

Word count: 2.5k

The sun's soft twinkles crawl over house rooftops, and in an early hour, despite it, it still felt like a chilly morning. Early as it is, the neighborhood was caught up with parents rushing with their children, some going to work, some even rushing late. Thankfully, the riots of youngsters were vetoed by the sound of Supermassive Black Hole by Muse playing through my earphones. I was deliberately walking down the alley on my way to school, gripping the hem of my uniform and cursing to myself that this skirt was of no use to at least keep my legs warm. 

The reckless gust reaching from my left side provoked me to jump out of my skin, revolting me from my daydream. 

‘’God's sake-’’ I turn my head only to see Chishiya standing next to me, with a smirk on his lips. The sudden view of him caused me to blush, as my brain screamed oh-look-your-crush. Although you could rarely see this guy smiling and being friendly, his agenda was incompatible. Clever, crucial, and cunning as he is, he always had a special place in my heart. Why, you ask? I'd love to know that too... Maybe because he has been my friend since forever. 

''You must be that cold, huh,'' Chishiya says sarcastically. ''Y-yeah.'' I murmur, ''anyway, again one of early practicals at the hospital today?'' ''Correct.''

''Yikes,'' I add, clicking my tongue, ''good luck.''

''Have you decided if you'll stay here in Tokyo?'' Chishiya pops a question, clearing his throat, as his face remains immersed on the boulevard in front of us. ''Huh, what do you mean?'' I add, looking up at him, wishing he'd look back at me. But he never does... 

''For university.'' ''Oh, that,'' is all I say, before taking the next few seconds to think what to proceed with, ''yeah, Tokyo - I guess, still not sure yet.''

''It better be Tokyo or I'm disowning you.'' He says in a stern voice, delivering it with a smirk as he quickly runs his hand through my hair, resulting in becoming a mess.

''Hey!'' I chuckle, about to return the favor but he succeeded to grab my wrist and stop me just on time. Shucks.

Chishiya and I have been friends since childhood, as our dads have been friends since their early school days as well. He's in his third year in med school and I'm about to graduate in less than a month and enter university in few months. Not to mention, living close enough in the same neighborhood visiting Shuntaro's family every Sunday for dinner was a ritual that my dad, Aguni, and I couldn't stop doing. My mother has had enough of Tokyo so she decided to leave for England. Yeah, pretty simple...it has only been dad and me since. Not like I regret staying with dad, and if there was the father that would win The Dad of the Year award, it would be him. Playing cards meanwhile drinking wine was a post-dinner ritual for our dads, later through time, Chishiya joining them as well. In most cases, I'd end up just observing how they play and anticipating who's going to win. From Aguni being the best to, Shuntaro's dad, a few years later as Chishiya evolved enough his cunning games he beat them in it. He became a card game master, no jokes. 

I didn't notice it has come for the time for us to go different paths, as my school was in the complete opposite direction.

''So,'' I murmur, stopping and turning to face him, ''I guess time to say goodbye.''

''Good luck, kid.'' He says, giving me a soft smile. Ah, if he only knew how something so insignificant and minor to him has such a consequence on my heart. But he never will though. As I know, what we are and what we are not. 

I just smiled as I watch him turn his back on me and leave first. He always leaves first. I stayed few more seconds as his figure slowly fades of to distance I get ready to go my way.

                                                        ⋞ 〈 ⏣ 〉 ⋟ 

 After the last class, I choose to go to a nearby library to catch up on some assignments. The library is a soft of the enormous coffee shop yet one can stay all day and feel good even if one buys nothing at all. That's the discrepancy. It is a place of welcome for everyone rather than for "customers." This is not a money-nexus venue yet a love-nexus space, and that makes it a real treasure in this city.

I was relinquished and dazzled by the book in front of me, until the moment someone’s voice yanks me out of my thoughts.

''Since classes are over, want to grab lunch?'' I feel a hand placing softly on my left shoulder as a soft boyish voice peaks behind me.

''Niragi,'' my lips stretch in a smile as I embrace my best friend in a hug, ''of course, you mind if Chishiya tags along as well?''

''Oh,'' he mouths, providing it with a vague look, as I feel him stiffen up a bit and breaking the hug before proceeding, ''Chishiya..too?'' 

''Yeah!'' 

''Sure,'' he says, providing it with a soft smile, ''definitely..'' 

''Great, I'll let him know then.'' 

                                                        ⋞ 〈 ⏣ 〉 ⋟ 

Niragi and I walked after school side by side, on the way to Shibuya where we agreed to meet up with Chishiya. As we have arrived early, we stand by a big poster advertisement. I gently lean my back onto it, facing the industrious avenues of Shibuya wandering with people. Niragi, leaning as well, right next to me. 

''So, have you decided? Is it going to be Tokyo or London?'' 

''Hm,'' I murmur as his question breaks me out of my trance, ''regarding studies?'' He nods. 

''Honestly, not sure,'' I hesitate, before proceeding, ''but I'd love to stay in Tokyo.'' This was not a lie, but London on the other hand, was just an excuse in case my health gets worse. An agreement was made with my dad that it'd be best to stay there with my mom and focus on getting better. 

''Tokyo.'' I sigh, still caught up thinking what if I have to end up having to go back to London. What do I do then? And more importantly, what do I tell them? The minor, simple thought of lying to the people I deeply care about stings. 

''And you?'' 

''Tokyo,'' he says softly while looking down, smiling - as the thought if he had something that binds him to dwell in this city, ''I already got accepted in for game engineering.'' 

I knock him softly on top of his head, standing on my tippy toes. Though he was portrayed as the delicate and sweet guy he is, he was taller than both Chishiya and me. 

''Ouch,'' he exclaims as his hand rests on top of his head, my action catching him off guard, ''why did you do that?'' 

''Why haven't you told me, little idiot?'' 

''I planned to,'' he giggles, a wide smile as I've never seen scattering across his delicate features, ''I was waiting for you to confirm you got in your desired major as well.'' 

Yeah, I have, Niragi. It's just that I might not even be able to go because of my health. The phrases, the verdict, that I desired I could have mouthed out. But I couldn't, not now. Not when we're about part ways, and the way I want to remember these recollections is by them as their happy-selves, us cycling through alleys of Tokyo, eating noodles in the park during chilly nights, by city lights as the background noise of crickets was vetoed by our laughter. The recollections, moments I'll protect in my psyche permanently. 

I just remained silent, looking at my friend as he was smiling and looking off to distance till he started waving to someone. I shift my gaze only to see Chishiya's figure approaching us, hands in his pockets as usual. 

''Hello there, peasants.'' Chishiya teases, as he finally approaches us.

''Excuse me, lord Shuntaro.'' Niragi scoffs at him, crossing his arms.

''So where will we head to?'' 

''Whoa, Morizono, not even embracing your friend in a warm hug and you're already talking about eating,'' Chishiya says falsifying pain in his voice, ''I'm hurt.''

 ''Chishiya,'' I let out, rolling my eyes at his statement, ''I know you don't do hugs.'' I proceed, nudging his forearm slightly, hoping that the warmth I felt growing in my cheeks wasn't showing. 

''Fuunji or Ichiran Shibuya?'' Niragi says, clicking his tongue. 

''Fuunji,'' I mutter, at the same time as Chishiya adds, ''Ichiran.'' Our eyes met instantly as we both realized our choices were different.

Do I have to mention that I'm probably already blushing? No, because heck - yes I am. 

Oh boy, here we go. Let him have his way, Y/N. 

As you always do. 

''You know what, let's go to Ichiran,'' I exclaim, looking in between my best friends waiting for them to agree. 

''Ichiran it is,'' Niragi exclaims. 

A little while later, our food has finally arrived. The moment it lands on the table, Niragi digs at his sweet and sour soup and pulls out all the cubes of carrot. I don't say anything, I really couldn't care less about table manners and there's always something interesting going on in his head. Chishiya calm and collected as he is, starts eating at a slow pace. After swallowing his first bite, he breaks the silence, ''we must go somewhere to celebrate your birthday, Y/N.'' 

''I'm not sure-''

Niragi peeks up at me with sticky fingers in his mouth. Meanwhile, Chishiya adds, through the mouthful, that I could just about make out the name "Kyoto."

As my mouth was full of food as well, I just nod seriously. 

"That's a great idea, Chishiya. I never thought of that." Niragi grins, still with the fingers in his mouth, then he scoops them up and lines them neatly next to his stocking.

Chishiya holds out a cup of soju, "for Y/N." Niragi's hand comes over and snatches it up, his grin as wide as his cheeks will stretch, and scatters back.

Chishiya and I just exchanged looks, laughing at his silliness.

We drank soju, we were already merry and full, we told the most terrible of jokes. That was us. Casual, informal, yet caring enough to make the time we spend together joyful. 

                                                         ⋞ 〈 ⏣ 〉 ⋟ 

After grabbing lunch with Chishiya and Niragi, I headed straight home. The thought of visiting Kyoto for my birthday with them was still bouncing on my mind. The thing is, how to bring it up to Aguni? Hm? As loving and fond as he is of both of them, the thought of sending his only daughter away with two boys on a trip probably sounded far away from a brilliant idea. Sigh, I guess it'll take a lot to convince him. 

''Dad, I'm home!'' I exclaim, meanwhile closing the doors behind me and taking off my shoes in the hallway. 

''Someone's back home early, huh?'' Aguni says chuckling, as he plants a soft kiss on my forehead. 

''Yup, something smells delightful,'' I say, meanwhile slapping my hands in excitement and taking my seat. 

''Ah, you sneaky,'' He adds, taking the seat as well across me, ''it's your favorite - pad thai chicken wok.'' 

''So,'' I began, meanwhile randomly picking food with chopsticks in my plate, ''I have a question.'' 

''Yes?'' Aguni murmurs, mouthful, gazing up at me. ''So you know that my birthday is next week...'' I say awkwardly, placing my chopsticks gently on the table. 

''Of course, how would I forget my daughter's birthday?'' He scoffs, butthurt that his daughter thinks he's that forgetful. 

''No, of course not.'' I chuckle, ''but I did want to ask you something, uh...'' 

''Go ahead, silly.'' 

Just say it. Now or never. And I do - ''I've been thinking of visiting Kyoto with Chishiya and Niragi-'' 

''Not happening.'' 

''But-'' 

''You? On a trip? With two boys?'' his voice stern as he glares up at me, causing me to swallow, ''you must be out of your mind to think I'll let you, Y/N. Boys your age are wild.'' 

''No, there's going to be more of other friends...too, from school.'' I start, slightly panicking as I was also trying to think of the ways to get him to approve, ''not just Chishiya and Niragi, although you know they're my closest friends.'' I proceed further, looking around the food on the table, as I noticed he has almost cleared out his plate, and yet there was still chicken left in mine. Splendid, a perfect way to bribe him now.

''Plus,'' I mutter, as I start taking out the chicken from my plate, putting on his, his eyes now fully focused on that chicken, ''I know you trust them enough to protect me if anything happens, right?'' I grin, awkwardly. 

''Only because they are aware who's your father and someone not to mess with.'' He adds, still not convinced enough, but still taking the small pieces of chicken with his chopsticks. 

''Uh, yeah,'' I murmur, as I watch him, eating up those last few pieces of chicken as if they are his last, ''beside your protectiveness, what do you think?''

''Y/N, you've forgot one thing.'' Aguni says with a serious tone, placing down his chopsticks. 

''What?'' I question, acting dumb. Expecting him to answer, he just remains silent and gives me an even worse glare now, ''doctor's appointment,'' I add, ''come on, it doesn't have to be next week as well. Just check with them if they can postpone it.''   

He preserves silent, still staring up at me with a serious look on his face. Sigh.

''A trip with my friends is more important. Not to mention, it's our last as we're all parting ways soon because of university.''  

''To you. But to me, your health is more important Y/N.''

''I...understand, dad,'' I sigh, looking up at him, falsifying a smile, ''but look at me, I'm feeling fine. I've never been better.''

''Same as you claimed in the past, until it happened again and I was close to losing you forever.'' He asserts, this time his voice louder than before.

''Dad...cheer up,'' I exclaim, as I reach out my hand, placing it on top of his, ''it's...just because it happened then, doesn't mean it will happen again.''

''You don't know that. Your condition is serious-''

''I'll take care of myself. Alright?'' I murmur, squeezing his hand, ''please, can I go?''   

''Alright, alright. Under one condition, take care of yourself and as soon as you get back we're going to the doctors. Promise?''

''I promise.'' I holler, lunging from my seat to hug him before storming off to my room. As soon as I shut the door behind me, I lean my back on it. 

There was an eerie sentiment I felt within, a good sort though - just not sure for what exact reason yet. It felt like it was the calling card of an adventure, paths awaiting, what will transpire. Whatever was ahead could be a great challenge, and there could be tears, but it was an exploration to take and so I smiled. The inklings would come, perhaps when I’d least expected it, so I’m ready to take this leap of faith.

#niragi #alice in borderland #imawa no kuni no alice #niragi x reader #chishiya #nijiro murakami #arisu ryohei #yamazaki kento #dori sakurada #chota #karube #ann rizuna #kuina hikari #kuina #usagi yuzuha #chishiya x reader #chishiya x niragi #tao tsuchiya #ayame misaki #saori shibuki #aya asahina #ayaka miyoshi #keita machida #kano mira #naka riisa #last boss #aguni