#( i realised i could make this either very soft or very angst | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

crescenthistory · 3 months ago

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Murder on the Wishlist

Pairing: Barty Crouch Junior x Reader

Summary: For the first time, you are forced to spend Christmas at home instead of at Hogwarts. Your usual companion over the holidays and devoted best friend, Barty, comforts you.

Words: 3.4k

Warnings: gn!reader, very strongly hinted at abusive homes on both parts, neglect, unhealthy family dynamics, lowkey a panic attack, angst, hopeful/comforted but not necessarily happy ending, Intense Best Friends Who Actually Are In Love, a lot of physical affection, murder is mentioned a lot, barty's killer instincts are in high gear, barty being real soft in private

Note: can you tell i like hurt/comfort fics? also i'm much more happy with this portrayal of barty, i think i'm getting somewhere

── .✦

You had been staring at the letter in your hands for what felt like hours, though you were sure only a few minutes had passed. The creases in the parchment were already wearing thin from where your fingers gripped it tightly, the sharp angles of your mother’s elegant script slicing into your thoughts.

Dearest,

It’s been decided. You will come home for the Christmas holidays this year. Father insists.

Mother.

That was it. Short, curt, like an afterthought. As though this decision had already been engraved in stone and she was only letting you know as a formality. The sinking feeling in your chest settled; every word felt like a weight pulling you down. You had done everything you could to avoid this, year after year, and it left a curdling taste in your mouth to know you failed at last. There was always some excuse to find for not going home for the holidays, for staying behind at Hogwarts where you could hide out with Barty. It had not been difficult most times, it was not as if it truly made any emotional difference for your family whether you were home or not. Home. The world felt acidic, because the house you were being dragged back to was not your home, never had been.

Hogwarts was not necessarily home either, but your friends were. With them, and thus at Hogwarts, you were safe, sheltered. It was only once your parents realised how content you were there, that their watchful eyes narrowed and their grip on your neck that they had seemingly forgotten about tightened.

You’re getting older now, your mother began saying last summer. It’s time we finally making something out of you, Merlin knows you won’t.

The comments did not bite anymore, none of it really did. At least that is what you told them all, whenever your little makeshift family in the Slytherin dungeons gathered in one of the dormitories to trash your respective families. It was lighthearted, it helped you all carry the burden – but it was not real, none of your defiance could be real. The only ones who truly stood up to their parents with all the unfiltered rage each one of you harboured in secret was Barty and Dorcas, and you saw where that landed them. Dorcas living with Marlene, Barty clinging to the castle he claimed to hate.

With a shaky breath, you crumpled the letter into your fist and shoved it deep into your robe pocket, already moving. You could not do it. Face your parents and their expectations, their cruel words, their harsh neglect. How delicately they tethered the line between neglect and overbearing – somehow hitting you where it hurts most with both. Unwanted and unsuccessful. Forgotten and watched. There was simply no way you could go through with it, but as your pace picked up to a borderline sprint down the hallways, you knew there was no way out of it either.

You needed Barty. You needed to see him now, to tell him – to feel something other than this crushing dread eating away at you from the inside.

He picked you out of the crowd that first day in the Slytherin common room, where you were plastered on the wall with fear probably written all over your face and a defensive snarl ready at your lips. He had simply looked you over, smiled and said "You seem fun, let’s go". Ever since, you were attached at the hip. He taught you the definition of loyalty – though you have since learned that Barty’s loyalty often went much, much further than most’s – and of unconditional love. Whether it was dying acid green streaks in his hair in the boy’s bathroom sink, piercing each other’s ears in your dormitories, laughing in the common room until it was so late he had to steal you a potion to help you not be so tired – it was always the two of you.

Most importantly, every single Christmas for the past six years, it has been you two. Requesting some entirely unfit dinner from the house elves, bringing it to a part of the castle you rarely got to go, and doing everything one does not do during the holidays. Creating your own tradition of no traditions, just satisfying every odd thought and instinct – though, as usual, you sometimes had to be Barty’s self control, just as he often was your bravery.

Your ears were ringing by the time you rounded the corner, hand burning around the letter in your pocket. There was no true coherent thought in your mind. Only Barty.

You found him in one of the dimly lit corridors of the dungeons, perched on a windowsill as though he had been waiting for you. He had that wild, chaotic gleam in his eyes, a constant spark that lit up whenever you were around. The only thing that felt right in the world right now.

When he spotted you, his face split into a grin – sharp and playful, yet softened only by the affection he reserved for you. "Treasure!" He called out, jumping off the sill to stroll towards you.

"Barty." Your voice came out thinner than you wanted, and before you could stop yourself, you were moving toward him, burying your face in the crook between his shoulder and neck. His arms, instinctive and familiar, immediately wrapped around you, pulling you closer.

“Shit, what happened?” he asked, his voice losing that teasing lilt it always carried. “Who do I have to kill this time?” His promise to fix things for you in his own twisted way, usually made you laugh. Now, though, all it did was tighten the lump in your throat.

As you tried to stabilise your voice to speak, he moved you around the corner into a small alcove in the wall, attempting to give you some privacy.

“My mother,” you finally choked out, voice muffled against his robes. “She– she wants me to come home for Christmas.”

His whole body stiffened, and you felt the shift in his posture against your body. Barty's hand, which had been stroking your hair gently, curled into a fist against the nape of your neck. You could practically hear his jaw clench.

“They’re making you go?” he asked, his voice sharp. “You can’t go. You’re supposed to stay with me.”

“I know.” The words tasted bitter. “I have no choice this time, she made that clear. ‘Father insists’.” You imitated your mother’s voice with teary contempt, making Barty tighten his hold on you, as if he could protect you from the inevitable with sheer proximity.

“Well, fuck him,” Barty growled. “I’m not letting them take you. You’re not going back there.”

“I don’t want to, Barty,” you whispered, a tear slipping down your cheek and onto his shirt. “But they’re not giving me a choice.”

“I will. I’ll give you a choice. I’ll do anything, you don’t have to go.” There was desperation evident in his voice, but his touch remained painfully soft – he began swaying you carefully back and forth to help calm down the oncoming tears. His mouth was so close to your ear, you could feel his lips moving, melting slowly into him at his words.

“I know that’s a lie, but I can't bring myself to care,” you said, feebly grasping at humour but feeling awfully vulnerable. Your voice trembled as you pulled back slightly to meet his gaze, your desperation plain. “Please make me feel better, even if it’s just for a little bit.”

Barty’s intense stare softened visibly at your pained expression, his eyes flickering with something darker, more protective. He exhaled slowly, then leaned his forehead against yours, his hands cradling your face as though you were the most precious thing in the world.

“It’s not a lie. You’re not going anywhere,” he whispered, his voice as soft as the brush of his thumb against your cheek. You realised he was wiping away the wet streaks. “I don’t care what they say. I’ll make sure of it. I’ll burn your fucking house down if I have to.”

A small, humourless laugh escaped your throat, the thought of him actually doing it not entirely far-fetched. “Barty…”

“I’m serious.” He pulled back just enough to look at you properly, his expression wild but laced with raw sincerity. Your arms were around his waist, holding onto the small of his back for dear life. “You’re mine, baby, yeah? They don’t get to take you away from me, not now. Not ever.”

Your heart stuttered, his words sinking into you like a soothing balm over the dread. He had always been this way – intense, borderline obsessive when it came to you. It never suffocated you, though you originally might have suspected it to; now it was the only thing that made you feel safe. Maybe that was the dangerous part, because you believed him.

Another few tears slipped from your watery irises. “Oh, how I wish it were that simple Barty,” you murmured, sinking back into his arms, needing to be enveloped by him entirely, to drown out everything else. “We’ve talked about running away for years, but you know we can't. My life would be ruined, I would have no options for a stable, viable future, no money for the first time, nothing to fall back on, no–”

Barty cooed shushing sounds in your ear, swinging you back and forth with renewed vigour as he brought you down from the intense spiral you were ranting your way into.

“You would have me,” he whispered into your ear and you shivered into him from the immense emotion washing over you.

“And, at this point, would it not be worth it?” Barty continued, voice edged with frustration, his mind already whirring with reckless plans. “We’ve got an entire castle at our disposal. You could hide here. They wouldn’t find you. We’ll make it work.” His voice dropped even lower with promise. “I’ll make sure they can’t make you leave.”

You laughed a little at the mental image of you and Barty digging yourself further and further through secret passageways and dusty corners. "You would hate to spend eternity hiding away at Hogwarts of all places."

"I would hate spending anytime away from you." His response was immediate, thumbs rubbing circles where he held you.

You pulled back to look at him, wiping the remaining tears from your eyes as you met his gaze. His fierce protectiveness was written across every line of his face. His lips quirked into a half-smile, as though he could see the spark of hope in your eyes, no matter how small it was. You knew it couldn’t be, of course, but he pretended – maybe even believed – so beautifully.

“I don’t want to leave you behind,” you admitted softly. “Not for them.”

“You aren’t.” His voice was firm, a promise. “You belong here with me. And I swear, Treasure, I’ll make sure of that. Even if I have to drag your family into the Forbidden Forest and–”

“Barty.” You laughed, genuinely this time, though it came out shaky. “You can’t just solve everything by threatening murder.”

“Why not?” he shot back, his grin widening, though his eyes remained serious. “It works, doesn’t it? It makes you feel better, doesn’t it?” For the last part his hand travelled to grip your shoulders a bit, as if he needed to make sure that he was helping you feel better, even if only slightly.

You nodded teary-eyed, having no real words for the boy and how much he eased your fears and pains. Instead, you let out a long sigh, leaning into him again, your head resting against his chest. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat under your ear calmed you more than anything else had today. “I wish we could just… stay here forever,” you whispered, closing your eyes.

“Oh, so you wanna spend the rest of your life at Hogwarts?” Barty quipped, earning a small pinch in his back that he yelped at. "What're you getting my case for then?"

“You know what I mean, Barty,” you whispered into his shirt, and though you couldn’t see it, his eyes softened at that, holding you a bit more tenderly. "I mean stay like this."

You had to hope he knew you were referring to him, because you did not have enough guts left to spell it out for him.

“Then we will,” Barty murmured into your hair, his lips brushing your forehead in a soft gesture. “We’ll make this place ours, any place you want, anytime you want. Fuck the rest of them.”

Barty pulled you impossibly closer, hoping to cure your anguish. His touch was possessive, but comforting. Like he could shield you from everything, even yourself.

“Promise me something?” you whispered.

“Anything.”

“Promise you won’t forget me while I’m gone.” There was a teasing tone to your voice, showing Barty that you were more at ease.

Still, he pulled back just enough to look into your eyes again, his brow dramatically furrowed as if the thought itself was absurd. “Forget you?” He scoffed, his tone incredulous. “I think about you every second I’m not with you, Treasure. Don’t you know that by now?”

His hand slid to the back of your neck, his touch grounding you despite his theatrics as he stared into your eyes with that intensity that always made your heart race. “You’re not just someone I forget. You’re the only thing that matters.”

You felt your chest tighten at his words, your eyes stinging again, but this time it was softer, warmer than the cold dread that had been suffocating you. His words were like a lifeline, pulling you back from the edge. There had never been any move to label the care that existed between you – Evan called you a couple once and no one corrected him, and since then that had been the status quo. There had been no conversation, just unwavering loyalty and support that you could not for the life of you explain. To you, there was everyone else and then there was Barty.

“I hate this,” you admitted, voice small as you fisted his shirt into your hands. “I hate the thought of leaving you. We always said fuck Christmas, but still – I don’t want you to be alone during it.”

“I won’t be alone,” Barty began, deadly serious in that way that told you he was anything but, “I’ll have a thousand house elves to torment and pictures of you to keep me company. If I’m lucky, Slughorn’s staying over the holidays like he did in fourth year.”

“Oh well, in that case, I might as well go fuck myself for all I matter,” you joked, tilting your head and rolling your eyes – but not moving even an inch away from him.

“You won’t be gone forever,” Barty said, voice lower and more genuine. His fingers were tracing patterns on the back of your neck, and you leaned into his touch. “And when you come back, we’ll make up for all the lost time. Hell, I’ll make sure we never have to spend another Christmas apart again once we graduate. We’ll do something so ridiculous every year, we won’t even remember the one we spent apart.”

You let out a breathy laugh at that, imagining the kind of chaos the two of you could wreak at Hogwarts when you got back, aching for all that was to come after that, too. Barty was always brimming with chaos to unleash, and somehow, you knew he meant every word. He always did.

“Are you dedicating all your future Christmases to me, Junior?” You quirked a teasing brow, finally sporting a small smile. Barty could have kissed you right then just to thank your lips for showing him your joy.

“I’m dedicating everything to you, Treasure, if it would make you happy.” He smiled at you, that lopsided grin of his that made your heart twist in ways you couldn’t explain.

For the first time since you opened that letter, you felt something other than fear. You felt hope.

“I reckon it would,” you whisper, leaning in for a hug, this time out of gratitude instead of desperation. You leaned up, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For always making me feel better. Even if you have to lie.”

Barty grinned at that, his eyes gleaming with that familiar wild spark. “I have never meant anything more than what I say to you, love. But when you ask, I’d lie. I’d do a hell of a lot more, if you’d let me. You already know that.”

You smiled back, feeling the tension finally begin to drain from your body. With him, you could survive anything. A horrible, draining week with your parents will eventually be just that – a week – when you’re back in Barty’s arms.

“You always make it sound so simple,” you mused, the warmth of his body soothing, but the thought of leaving him still gnawing at your insides. “Like it’s all going to be okay just because you say so.”

“It will be.” His voice had that same self-assured, almost manic edge to it, but underneath it was something steady. Unshakeable. “You know why?”

“Why?” you asked, a soft challenge in your tone, though a part of you already knew his answer.

“Because we’ll make it okay. You and me. We always do.” His fingers trailed along your jaw, lingering there, as if he needed to remind himself that you were still here with him, for now. “You think I’m going to let them take you away without a fight? I’ll give them hell. They can have your time this once, your body, but they can’t touch this.” His hand pressed against your chest, just above your heart, his eyes dark and serious now. “They’ll never touch this. Not us.”

You inhaled sharply, feeling the intensity of his words pulse through you. Without thinking you repeated his last words not us, which teased a soft smile from him.

“I’m scared,” you admitted, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. They felt fragile in the air between you, but Barty didn’t flinch. “I just don’t want to go back there so soon. It’s suffocating. They’re suffocating.”

“I know,” he said softly, his eyes flickering with understanding. He didn’t push you to explain further, he never had to. He knew enough, and the things left unsaid were just as clear to him as the things you told him. He hated your family almost as much as you did, and in some twisted way, you knew he was angry not just for you, but for himself too. “Your family’s shit. But you’re not them. You don’t belong with them. You belong here, with me. And if I could, I’d rip you out of that hellhole and never let them see you again. I will as soon as possible.”

“Barty…” You closed your eyes, grounded by his hand still lingering on your chest, fingertips digging into your shoulder. His words were sharp, but they smoothed you over in ways you couldn’t explain.

“You’ll come back,” he whispered, his lips brushing the edge of your temple, almost a kiss. “I’ll wait for you. And when you do, we’ll make sure it’s the last fucking time you have to deal with them. I’ll do whatever it takes. I swear it.”

There was no hesitation, no doubt in his voice. His intensity, that relentless drive he had to bend the world to his will, made you believe him. In a way, it always did. His promises weren’t just comforting; they were declarations, vows. He wasn’t just saying what he thought you wanted to hear – he meant it.

You breathed him in and took a half-step back, silently declaring yourself convinced and comforted all at once.

“I guess I’m gonna have to get you a real Christmas present this year, since we’re forced to be civilised,” you said, and he snorted.

“Nothing can ever civilise us. Not even your wretched mother.”

“Probably not,” you smiled, taking his hand to lead him out of the corner he secured for you, nearing ready to face the world. “But we can make it a game and have fun pretending.”

“If so, what do regular citizens get their person?” Barty mused, and you tried to smile through your heart skipping a few beats. Their person.

“Gonna have to guess socks.”

“Socks, that’s a good one.” He barked out a laugh at his own joke. “I’m gonna get you so many boring socks love, just you wait.”

You bumped into him as a response, and when you looked up he was already looking at you with a huge grin, clearly pleased with this turn of the conversation.

“Oh, it is on, Junior.”

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maximwtf · 2 months ago

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“I would endure endless defeats before burdening you.”

Capitano x Reader

Words: 4200

Google Docs Pages: 7ish

Warnings: 5.1 spoilers but just about Capitano, established relationship but everything has to be horrible so it’s not established but kinda is but just when you think it is, it’s not. Angst/ kinda comfort? Idk you try to comfort an immortal man rotting from the inside and see how it goes. I guess like the tiniest amount of fluff but that’s sad too. Bad communication, emotional hurt. I imagine him with more real rot, maybe with some abyssal like Dain? Idk, but this is written based on that :) Rotten man, save us.

Opening: Does he have people to open up to about all the years he’s spent with his condition and the thoughts of regret he’s accumulated? Would he allow himself that comfort even if he did? Because that has been for you to figure out, bit by bit.

AN// G/N reader. I don’t think yall understand how happy I was to get this lore drop on Capitano. Like wdym they have a suffering old man in the cast, and you kept him from me for this long?! Anyway, I feel like it was my duty to write something for him due to that. Enjoy.

If you have any fic ideas for him, feel free to request :)

“I would endure endless defeats before burdening you.”

The hallway outside was silent, matching the space behind the door at the very end of it. A faint light on a sturdy wooden table, a couple other lights scattered here and there. But no amount of warm candles nor a bigger fire could truly disperse the coldness in the room. The man inhabiting it, so stupefied by it by now that he barely noticed anymore. And the people who had before, dared not mention it anymore either.

The light outside had disappeared some time ago. The sun never truly rose in mid winter, or at the very least it didn’t seem like it did. Especially on the days when the snowfall was so thick it painted the horizon white. Covering the sun along with its soft blanket. And so it had done on this day as well, and by the look of it grown tired by the end. Yielding, and soon the snowflakes turned so small it looked more like powdered sugar from afar. Only a little too late for the sun to make any sort of appearance anymore, the chance for that long gone.

Did the sun have regrets at the end of days such as this? Had it not tried hard enough to repel the heavy snowfall on this day? And now that it had failed, would the people who’d longed to see it shine once more at the end of the day be disappointed? Would they be blinded enough to not see that it had tried to save the end of the day with a few rays of its light, only to realise it was far too late for that? And that it would try again just as hard if another chance was given.

Capitano stared outside through the window of his office. These seemingly eternal thoughts running through his mind yet again. At times hoping his mind would rot enough to be able to forget any sort of regret he may have still been holding on to. But a curse seemed to stay as such, unable to forget and let his mind rest.

Not when small things around could be used to remind him, having to shut his mind from viewing these aspects around him on such a deep level. In truth having nothing to do with the past and the actions taken and left undone. All the more reason to try and forget any regret.

His eyes gazed outside at the snowfall. It coming down in a straight line, placid as ever as it settled to its rightful place. To perhaps be blown to a new location the next day with a gush of wind. The weather was so calm it almost appeared warmer outside than in the uncomfortably chilly office of his. The cold that would have sent a shiver or two down his spine in the past.

Capitano’s eyes focused on his reflection against the window. A man he’d constructed his outer appearance to be, something to stay unchanging as everything else was torn from him bit by bit. That was a man with no regrets, someone powerful to look up to. Someone he’d once been fortunate enough to truly be and live as.

Not that he wasn’t that now as well. Enjoying the respect of his peers, troops and alliances. But each show of power reminded him of who he wasn’t anymore. The person he could no longer even become. A rare few amongst the people he met even being able to comprehend the status he’d held all those years ago.

His head lowered, a careful pair of hands taking a hold of the carefully constructed mask. Removing it with a slow, almost dragging motion. Lowering it along with his hands, eyes having returned to peer at his reflection. The space dim enough to not allow his full appearance to truly show off. But he knew exactly what the blurry and darkened out parts looked like. What the mask so diligently hid behind it.

What the outer man he’d built was concealing underneath. The commander he’d been and the person he’d turned into. Forced into being. Cursed with something others would spend their lives seeking, not understanding the cost of living beyond their years. How the flesh would deteriorate and rot. How even his soldier’s will and self respect wavered under the power this change had. How his mind had to come to terms with what used to be and what was now. Who he had to be and what he could now do in order to use what he’d been given to make a mark. Even if only to himself, he wanted to be able to to make this time count. He’d be a disgrace to his former homeland if he had given up all that time ago and frozen in place. The only option was to move on. Even if this curse was eating him alive.

A part of him sighed in relief when the silence deep in the hallway was disturbed, releasing his mind of these thoughts. Focusing on figuring out who was nearing his door. There was no knock, steps that were silent as ever and that paused almost right after as the door behind this person closed once more. The silence, almost like a vicious entity, taking over the space like it was guarding it. And just before that Capitano had come to a conclusion, you.

��Greetings,” he spoke with a surprisingly formal tone. Quick to adapt from his thoughts to the current situation. Not foolish enough to not have a guess as to what you were doing here at this hour, but hopeful enough a conversation might make you change the course. But the sound of your voice as you replied, ‘evening’, suggested there was a little chance you’d yield.

There was much he could have done to try harder, yet he surrendered so soon. Who was he to resist your sheer will? The same will he’d tried to direct elsewhere in the past multiple times, yet it always returned to him. A seasoned warrior smart enough to recognize a losing battle when stumbling upon one, he would have known.

Your eyes followed keenly as Capitano placed the mask from his hands onto the table. The man’s eyes looked piercing in the faint light of the room, no doubt even frightening to the less knowing. You couldn’t even see his face, only the broad frame of his back. Only the blue shine from the glistened against the reflection from the window, as if peering back at you. The sight overall something not seen every day, something most never saw.

There was no reason for your eyes to be the ones to be allowed to see, to watch and analyse. Or so you believed, if there was a reason neither of you dared to word it. As if doing so would unleash some sort of a spell neither of you wanted to see the aftermath of. There was only so much change a person could bare to their person, so whatever it was that Capitano refused to word, was good as it was.

Of course, you hadn’t come here for simply the joy of visiting. That never seemed to have formed into a habit, but instead seeking him out when word of him rose from the troops. Anything alluding to his person, not the more usual reputation talk. If that ever changed was when it felt almost mandatory to see him. A difference in the behaviour of a person such as Capitano was sure to never go unnoticed.

“How was your day?” You broke the silence, seemingly ignoring the reflection from the window. He wasn’t a man to hide himself from you, yet some part of you liked to imagine that respect made you not bring his condition up. Not so soon.

Waiting for his response after a deep ‘hmp…’ felt like an eternity. Allowing you a chance to slip closer to his desk, eyes skipping mindlessly on the items he’d left there. His words had a deeper growl in them when he spoke so silently, “nothing out of the ordinary.” Which likely was true. Your eyes had scanned the papers on the table, a very few left there to linger. Nothing important ever left for the prying eyes to catch. Yet it proved his words correct, no straight lies ever told. He had no reason to lie to you, to hide anything. But the both of you knew the question had been intended for a deeper analysis of his day instead of an overall view. He hid things. Not out of malice, you knew better than to think such things.

“That’s good,” you answered soon after. Straightening out a few of the papers, stacking them so the corners met each other in a straight line. The moment was so heavy and you’d only now started to realise as much. There was never much you could do if the murmurs around the troops turned out to be true. He felt so far away even when he was so close, merely on the other side of the desk.

You knew him, better than most, yet he’d seen more than any mortal could likely wrap their head around. So who were you to tell him that it would simply ‘be okay’ or that you were ‘there for him’ when you started to notice his gaze wander. He was not simply sad, he appeared melancholic. But at times even that seemed to be rooted so deep down within him that you couldn’t find a word to describe the emotion radiating from him. And he was unable to give you a word for it. Leaving the now physical distance between the two of you to form into a deeper pit of confusing aches.

But there was also the root of the problem. This was by no means the first attempt of coming to him, seeking him out and attempting to figure out why his mind wandered. Where it was trying to get for it to be something he couldn’t word. What was the reason for the superficial answers, as if speaking to any one of his soldiers. Why let someone so close, but keep them at the threshold when they were willing to come in?

Though, thoughts like these felt ironic. Knowing you played along with this act of his, not only to entertain him but because it felt easy. How easy it was to allow him to care and dutifully take care of his tasks as he always had, and when it came time to actually connect with him to just let it slide each time. His actions never held any malice nor betrayal, there was no man more loyal to their own morals and comrades than him. So who were you to simply blame him for not letting you closer, when it was you who indulged in his way of communicating.

“The men seemed to have lived a different day.” You commented after, hoping Capitano would pick up on what you meant. He was not foolish enough to be fully unaware of what his own men were doing and talking about when his back was turned.

And you’d been correct, the comment made the man look down at you over his shoulder. The piercing eyes of his holding so much in them, it was hard to put to words, but you could tell he knew what you meant. And so you indulged in this way of communicating once more.

Seeing as he had nothing else to ‘say’, you continued. “Thankfully the snowfall gave in on the way here. It was an honest nuisance today…” Continuing to speak of the things you always did, the things you found slipping from your lips each time instead of the actual questions and words you wanted to say. But what use would that be when it felt as if there was no one who truly received those words.

“Here’s to hope tomorrow will be better on that front,” you continued on alone but knowing full well he was listening, even if he knew exactly the topics you’d choose. The mantras you repeated. His attention on you while you slowly circled around the desk to his side, hand sliding against the smooth surface of the desk. The act as if a final cry to ask for him to reciprocate.

The fabric of Capitano’s clothes rustled, the movement appearing heavier than they likely truly were. He gave you space near him, allowing you to join him near the window he’d been so keen on. “Hm, may it be so then.” He replied, leaving the end of his response hanging. As if there was more to be added, but left out due to the everlasting heaviness of the room and the air inside it. But you didn’t need more. Past a certain point the conversations you held as a coverup to attempt to communicate started being more tiring than standing in silence to try and understand him better.

Your eyes gazed at the window, his reflection. Turning to peer at his face soon after. The rot, having consumed so much of the man he used to be, carved him into someone else. You had not seen how he’d looked all those years ago, but he’d insisted that even his comrades from then wouldn’t have been able to recognize him today.

So how could you ever understand him truly? You weren’t sure what sort of explanation you were waiting to gain from him to make you understand, when there likely was none. He’d seemingly accepted his fate a long time ago, an eternal life ahead of him each morning he woke. Up until the day his body would falter at last.

But in your eyes that was not a life worth leading on, not with the regrets you knew he held. How could a man rotting from the inside still yearn to fix something that hadn’t even been within his power to save in the first place?

You’d initially not even realised that was likely what he was thinking when his mind started to wander. Not when you’d first seen his face, seen the state he lived in each day. You’d initially feared he held some form of heaviness within him for the way he looked. For a human, losing everything you had and who you were would have been a fate worse than death. Losing the strength you held and the person you had been. Yet he held himself the same each day, seemingly no shame in his condition, if only a flickering light of anguish against the fate he’d been dealt.

On top of that, he had seemingly never let himself fall to ruin. The person he’d been might have changed into something unrecognisable that could easily disturb the too comfortable. But this was a man of honour, a dignified soldier. For the sake of others, you’d concluded, he diligently kept himself clean. Kept the rot that bothered him not, from causing disturbances to the rest.

So it was clear, by no means had he given up. He was in terms with who he was now, yet at times like these it seemed like his mind hadn’t. When you so clearly tried conversing, attempting to get him to speak his mind, he refused. Treating you gently, leading your conversation on for long enough to tire you and finally make you stop worrying for him.

You gave the mask on the table a look, an attempt to lean back towards the topic. Neither of you had forgotten nor had it gone unnoticed by him either. Not now or earlier.

Capitano followed your movements, eyes landing on the all too familiar mask. Not having to even gaze upon it to know what was being asked of him. And he wished, internally held up hopes that the rot was messing with his mind, feeding him thoughts that weren’t true. That you hadn’t come back to him out of sheer worry yet again.

He was ready to be moulded by you into any shape, ready to yield in front of you if that’s what you asked of him. He cared about what you thought, but in some sense wanted to keep you from worrying. The burdens he held within were self inflicted, he knew that much. A part of him knew the regrets he had were foolish, he couldn’t have done anything more than he had. So when he wasn’t driven mad by those thoughts, he had time to try and form a bond with you. A bond which he wished to not be based on a worry of him.

He knew you were curious, that was only natural. That was why he’d been open about who he was now, what he could offer you anymore. But what would have been the point of going further into his thoughts, those were his burdens to bear. A fault in himself which he’d created.

“Your cheek appears irritated?” You said silently, gazing at his face with keen eyes. Pausing for a moment as he turned to face you. “I’m sorry if that-” Backing away from what you’d said a little, cringing if it had come across mockingly. Capitano raised his hand slightly, pausing your rambling. “I know. No need to apologise, you’re fine,” he said after and watched as your expression softened back to normal.

But you’d been honest, the irritation was no mere frostbite that’d got him. You’d seen it before when he hadn’t had the time to upkeep the condition. A neglect he didn’t participate willingly, but something his work on some occasions forced him to pick up. And which you’d find he let you take care of on those very certain occasions. The least you could do to ease your own worry and the yearning to communicate with him about himself.

Your hand moved to brush some of his hair from his shoulder to a better position. Running your fingers through it gently so as to not tug him on accident. And he didn’t move, not even if you had. Watching you with the same fond expression he always seemed to. Following keenly when you turned your back to him, abandoning his hair and the caresses he’d grown fond of by that point. Rummaging through the upper drawer of his desk.

The light in the room was rather dim, not allowing you to see what you were seeking for at first. But your hand knew the shape of the small jar containing a lotion you were familiar with. It was no match for something as detrimental as his condition, but seemingly if this world carried anything that did anything to combat it, it was worth it.

You fiddled with the jar for a moment, turning it in your hands before daring to look back up at his towering form. He didn’t move an inch, even without the mask he appeared honourable as ever. To you, maybe even more so now.

An old ache radiating from unsaid words and praises stung your chest at moments like these. An uncountable amount of exalted thoughts of him that you just couldn’t bring yourself to tell him, to make him understand that you wanted to share his burdens. None of them would make you view him any differently. No matter how many regrets, scars or rotten flesh would face you, he’d still be the same honourable and respected man in your eyes.

Your eyes gave him an asking look, almost automatic. The request yet again something you couldn’t put into words, and that would leave an awful ache into your chest for not saying. But you adored how he still always understood, hesitated like he’d always done and still ended up accepting. It was you, after all.

Capitano sat down on the chair behind him. The old wooden thing let out a small noise under the added weight, the room not falling fully silent after. He watched as you undid the lid of the jar, placed it on the table and carefully leaned closer. Taking some of the product onto your finger and with the same tenderness spreading it on the irritated parts. Yet, even from so close up it felt as if some sort of unremovable distance stayed. Always.

Capitano closed his eyes for a moment, a low breath escaping him as his form allowed his shoulders to ease ever so slightly. Your touch was always gentle and careful, no matter how far he kept you from his burdens and regrets. So who was he to completely refuse your care? He never wished to turn you down or push you away, but he’d also had the time to rot for 500 years. Building something like this was exceptionally hard, and he’d only now come to figure out what that meant truly.

You made sure the salve was nicely spread before pulling back, watching as his eyes opened after. Feeling how they followed you when returning back to the lid to put it back on. With movements clearly familiar to the situation, you placed the jar back into its rightful place, closing the drawer with a faint thud.

“Thank you,” his low voice called out with the familiar growl at the end of his words. Capitano leaned onto his knees, pushing himself up from the chair to return back to the window. His silhouette appeared more frail than when he had the thick cloak on, something that somehow still surprised you every now and then. He was by no means a small man to begin with, yet the cloak changed him so much. Making you wonder if that was why he preferred wearing it so.

You watched him walk up to the window, this time clearly gazing out rather than at his reflection. Following the now faint snowfall outside in silence. Following along from the side, attention moving back to his reflection at what almost felt like force. Mind so occupied by him it felt impossible to focus on the weather outside.

You felt almost on edge with how much you wanted to tell him, let him know of what you thought about him to get him to tell you more. It felt almost as if something in your chest stung each time a good moment like this was spent in silence.

Which was why you almost jumped when he began to speak, not turning around to do so, but nevertheless. “I understand you have your fair share of curiosities about this. But allow me to be selfish, and have you without burdens. And if that by itself is a burden too heavy to carry, you’re not obligated to stay. Know, you are respected even then.” Capitano’s familiar voice spoke, this time for longer than you’d heard during this entire time. Leaving you slightly shaken for a moment, though for an odd reason the air didn’t feel heavy. As if air itself had paused to allow you this conversation.

And it stayed that way as you walked behind him, hesitating for a moment before placing your forehead against his broad back. Arms sneaking gently around his waist, lose in their hold as your eyes closed. You took a deep breath, mind ticking to form a response. Feeling Capitano tense for a mere moment in the hold before his muscles eased once more.

Normally, no matter how many walls of protection you shattered from around him, he didn’t seem to react to anything. No matter if he was wearing the helmet or not. A part of you wondering if the corrosion was a sort of a mask itself.

“I’m not going anywhere. But I don’t want the way I see you to be written on your epitaph. Let me in, make this easier.” The words coming out in a whisper loud enough for him to hear, but not disturb the usual silence.

A low chuckle escaped Capitano, a part of him amused by the plea. But nevertheless taking it seriously, knowing you’d meant it. “You’re more hopeful than I am,” he replied with a hum. Placing his hands over yours, against himself. Pressing them together lightly, as if hoping that was an answer enough. Aware that it wasn’t, but using it as a way to ask for more time.

He feared he’d overstep a boundary of sorts, if he told you of his thoughts on a deeper level. He didn’t wish to put them on your shoulders, protecting you from himself in a way. If that was one of the only things he could do for you, not expecting anything from you in return, ever.

The squeeze from his hands made you lean against him more heavily, a gentle sigh escaping. Not bothering to feel frustrated, not at him. The curse wasn’t his fault, what’d happened to him wasn't his fault and he was in no way obligated to ever let someone so close as he’d allowed you. So even the smallest of actions kept you close to being carefree, in the sense that you didn’t fear that there was no way to help him. There was, and you’d allow him to show that path to you on his own terms.

#capitano #capitano x reader #genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #x reader #capitano genshin impact #capitano genshin #5.1 genshin #5.1 genshin impact #genshin impact 5.1 #genshin impact spoilers

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mythicmanuscripts · 5 months ago

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Hiii! I read your post-Rook’s Rest Aegon angst story and omg it was so perfect!! I loved it so much! I have a weakness for angst and you write it so well!!

If your requests are still open, could I ask for some more Aegon angst or hurt/comfort? I would love your take on his struggles during season 1/pre-coronation!

Thank you so much for all the wonderful little stories and headcanons you’re putting out there, I’m reading and enjoying each and every one ❤️

Oooo great question!! Honestly I somehow didn’t even consider the angsty side of this so I’m so glad you brought it up! And thank you so much for the kind words, they mean so much and help me stay motivated. So without further ado, here’s the angsty season one aegon thoughts :))

(While there’s nothing sexual in these thoughts, there are definitely dom/sub undertones, specially sub!Aegon so bare that in mind before you continue reading.)

So firstly, I think you’d be introduced to Aegon a few weeks before he actually became king. Everyone knew that his father’s health was declining, and that Aegon would soon be king. And, everyone knew how ill equipped Aegon was to be king.

Originally, Aegon was supposed to marry Helena. That plan was cancelled pretty soon when Allicent realised that Helena was not at all up to the task of managing and controlling Aegon. Because that’s exactly why she needed to marry him. She was as fast losing her influence over him and he has not at all ready to be a ruler, so she had to find him a wife who would be harsh and strict with him and who would be able to control him.

Even worse, Allicent doesn’t hide this desire from Aegon at all. She openly tells him that she’s arranged a wedding with the daughter of another house specifically because this daughter has a reputation of being firm and unwavering and not taking nonsense. Allicent spells out to him that she doesn’t think he can rule so she has had to find a bride for him that will be able to control him and stop him from making a fool of himself.

Aegon doesn’t think he’s ever felt as humiliated as he did that dinner when Allicent announced this to him. He always knew that his mother and father both didn’t think he was fit to rule, and his brother was certainly counting down the days until the weight of crown becomes too much and he has to drop it.

But this… hearing his mother openly planning on the best way to control him? And of all the relationships for her to exploit, she wants to use his future wife? As much as Aegon tries to act all cool and nonchalant and like he doesn’t care about anything, the truth is that he has a soft soul and is a romantic at heart. He always dreamed of meeting his wife and slowly building up a good, strong relationship.

His dreams of that are crushed before he even meets you.

Because of all of this, Aegon doesn’t even get to see you before the wedding, nevermind speak to you. He asks to see you, multiple times, but Allicent won’t budge. She says him seeing you won’t make a difference, he’s marrying you either way.

He’s so dejected on his wedding day. When you look into his eyes for the first time, you just see such a deep sadness that it makes your chest ache. You try to be kind to him that night, try to compliment him and listen to him. It does very little and he remains cold the whole evening.

When it’s time to consummate the marriage, Aegon shows you to your new quarters with him and slowly begins to undress like he’s a robot. You stop him immediately. You tell him that it’s just the two of you here now, no one else. He doesn’t have to pretend or follow his mother’s orders, she’s not here.

He’s confused then.

“You don’t want to have sex?” Asks, confused, “Didn’t my mother tell you to get pregnant immediately?”

You chuckle and say that she did, but you don’t care what she said, she’s not in this marriage.

Allicent made one crucial era when she chose you, she assumed your courage and knowledge and independence would mean you agreed with her. But no, no it didn’t. It meant you thought for yourself, and it meant you realised just how sad and hurt the soon to be king is.

You stick your head out the door and tell the guards find you a stack of cards. The guards are, of course, very confused but you are now officially the future queen so they can’t exactly say no.

Once you have the cards, you put them down on the bed and sit on the other side. Aegon smiles when he sees that. A real smile, not the fake one he kept during the wedding.

You realise pretty quickly that the absolute best way to help Aegon at first is actually to be more of his friend than his wife? You listen to him and offer him occasional advice but you also play card games and trade family stories and discuss your dreams. Aegon has never had a friend before. At least, he’s never had a friend not somehow influenced by his status as future heir.

When he’s alone with you, he doesn’t feel the future disappointment everyone else seems to see. He just feels like himself.

It takes him a very long time to admit that he’s not fit for all the requirements of being ruler. He’s not ready for it and he doesn’t even want to be ready for it.

You listen to him, of course, and then you remind him that even though the two of you have mainly just played cards, you are still his wife. You swore an oath to love and protect him and you have no intention of breaking it.

That gets a smile out of him, and ends in him kissing you, giggling against your mouth every now and then because he’s finally accepted that he’s not alone in this expectation anymore.

Pretty soon the two of you work out what your dynamic is, and Aegon is genuinely so thankful to have you in his life. Because while yes, you most certainly help him and offer him advice and even tell him when he’s outright wrong, you never make him feel stupid. That’s the difference. He can ask you things and voice his frustrations because he knows you won’t belittle him for it. He’s happy to follow your advice because you don’t make him feel bad for needing advice.

You always treat him with love and care, always open your arms when he needs.

Once he’s crowned, he removes Allicent from the small council and adds you.

#sub!aegon #aegon targaryen x you #house of the dragon #aegon targaryen smut #aegon targaryen imagine #aegon smut #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon the second #king aegon #aegon ii targaryen #hotd aegon #aegon x reader #house of the dragon fanfiction #hotd

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wonton4rang · 6 months ago

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Pleasee do firsts with Leehan <333

HIII <33 OMW!!

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i love u 3000 ¡!

pairing: leehan x reader.

warnings: +18, smut, fluff, some angst maybe, kissing.

summary: short scenarios of firsts with leehan.

note: this is a series, you can see the members that are done here. <3 pd. i didn't check this so if it has any typos, please lmk and i'll correct them asap !!

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first time he realises he's in love; i have two sides for him, i feel like he would either know right away that he likes you, noticing how his heart pounded faster when you were around, how he got nervous each time you looked at him even though he tried to play it cool, how he would look for you in a crowd unconsciously, or he would just don't realise at all, everyone knows he would literally kill for you but he keeps thinking he just really likes you... as a friend. but i think he would realise he's in love w u with something random, like he would give you his gummies or simply ditch an afternoon with his fishtank to be with you. only then opening his eyes wide and covering his mouth with surprise before saying "oh my god, i think i like her" yes, leehan, you like her.

how would he confess; tbh i feel like he wouldn't make a big fuss about it. he would buy you something he knows you like, a chain, a keyring, anything material that can last (not flowers or chocolates) so it can be a token of the confession he made to you, whether you accept his feelings or not. he would call you over to his place or probably to a park or a place where there was just the two of you, he would go straight to the point, smiling with his eyes first before saying a soft "i really like you, can you give me a chance to be your company?" his hands were shaking when he showed you the prettiest keyring you've ever seen and how could you say no? you also liked him very much !! a soft kiss on the cheek sealed the contract.

officially dating w leehan; i feel like it would be the most normal yet abnormal thing ever. like he would be so chill, just cuddling you on the couch while watching something on the tv and then he would suddenly look at you a say "what if we went hiking? i think the weather is nice for it!!" and you would just roll your eyes and laugh a little bit before saying "it's 93F outside, baby, we would roast to death". he would be the type to always have his hands on you, it could be holding your waist, playing with your hair, just resting on your thigh or even around your shoulders or playing with your fingers, but he would always find a way of having physical contact with you. he would rather have food delivered to your place and eat while talking about each other's days instead of cooking because you both were tired.

first kiss; there are so many ways this could happen but being honest...? i feel like he wouldn't directly try to kiss you first because he didn't want to make you feel pressured so he just kept certain distance. the problem was that he got so used to keeping his distance that he didn't notice when you finally were ready, basically ignoring all your tries to initiate the kiss you've been longing for a few days. it gets to a point were he finally notices because you pout after he kissed your cheek and he goes like "what's wrong, y/n? didn't like that one?" and when you nodded with your head to confirm his words, he laughed a bit before giving you a small peck in the lips, that being your first kiss with him since you guys started dating about a month ago. and it didn't end there, because when he saw your cheeks flushed with that pink blush, he couldn't help it but kiss you again, this time properly, taking his time to kiss you goodnight.

first time he wanted to do more than just a peck; kisses with leehan were never pecks, it was an actual kiss, lips moving at a pace and sometimes your tongues met too, but that was it, you guys never really made out or touched each other up like animals. well, that until today because when leehan felt your back against his crotch he felt like he was going crazy, you were cuddling together on your bed, ready to sleep, but leehan would start to hold your thighs, pressing on the skin before softly kissing your neck and get close enough to your ear to whisper "i want to kiss you, baby" and tbh you could feel the boner against your body, your pussy clenching when you finally turned to face him and he took you in for the most explicit kiss ever. tongues tangled, saliva being shared and you humping him while he softly grinded against you. after you both got off, Morfeo held you both on his arms until the next day.

first time meeting your family; from what i know about leehan i think he wouldn't be too nervous about it. i feel like he would want to make a good first impression so he would ask you about your parents likings, he would ask you if they liked fishes or gummies, or basically anything he liked so he could bring it up. he would try to help cooking but would end up getting a cooking class by your dad that made them bond more than you would think!! he would be himself all the time, maybe not that loud but definitely not hiding his true self because even if he wanted to, it would be too difficult. i can see him saying "next time i come here will be with our wedding invitation" your parents would just laugh and you would try to pull him away before he finished it off with a "and i plan my next visit to be very soon!!" even though you were ashamed, all you could do was laugh. your parents loved him, in fact, he would go to their place to just chat or have a meal because he loved your dad's cooking skills !!

first time w leehan; the only thing that comes to my mind when i think of this is the word "comfortable". like i feel that everything would be so lovely and warm, his smile making your heart feel soft and your nerves go away, his fingers would lovingly trace your lines, playing with your hair while he kissed you with so much care you actually felt gone for a second. he would prepare you so good, his fingers fucking your wet cunt to make sure you are ready to take his cock before he actually goes in, kissing your pussy and leaving a long lick there before going back to your mouth and place and open kiss there "can i go in?" he would ask and after you said yes he pushed in slowly, going all the way in and the tracing it back. the way he fucked you, so deep and nicely, it felt so personal, so romantic and yet so dirty, the way his hair got messy, his lips looking abused because you bite them so much, the explicit sounds of your wet pussy and his hard dick making you squirm under his touch before you finally came undone, he came too, almost right after you. he would look at you for a few seconds, his dick still deep inside your cunt, he would laugh and kiss your lips, laying besides you before saying "wanna go for a second round?" well damn.

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this is the keyring he would give u :(( you guys have matching ones and carry them everywhere with the little fishes and flowers oh my 😭😭🫶 even the "confession letter" and some butterflies, i need one of those asap.

#boynextdoor x reader #boynextdoor imagines #boynextdoor scenarios #boynextdoor smut #leehan x reader #leehan smut #leehan scenarios #leehan imagines

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deakyjoe · 2 years ago

Text

Stormy Skies

Pairing: Din Djarin x Reader (no pronouns used I think)

Category: friends to lovers

Summary: Din breaks you out of an Imperial prison (loosely based on chapter 15).

Warnings: angst, fluff, touched-starved Din, helmet is off, prison, nasty guards, restraints, bad men, talks of death, separation, loose implication of what bad men can do, pet names (cyar’ika), canon-divergence (I guess??), when I say loosely based I mean very loosely based

Word count: 5.5k

A/N: Sad, brown-eyed, pathetic love of my life. (He's not pathetic but I’ll make him pathetic.) Din is slightly out of character but only because he's head over heels in love and feeling all soft and squishy inside about it. He's also a little insecure. Poor guy. It's purposefully ambiguous about how long reader has been imprisoned, so guess however long you'd like.

Consider buying me a coffee :)

It took three weeks, four days, sixteen hours and twenty two minutes before you realised that the inside of this Imperial prison would be the only thing you saw for the foreseeable future. The three walls and one row of bars now being your home. After that you resigned yourself to the idea that you'd be there forever so you stopped counting the days, the weeks, the... months? You didn't know how long you'd been there and you didn't want to know how long either.

All you knew is that you wanted to leave. Not because you were scared of death or scared of never seeing the outside world again. But because you missed two very important people in your life. The big, scary Mandalorian who had hired you just under a year ago as his mechanic and his strange green son who had weird superpowers who you sometimes babysat. The both of them meant the world to you and the idea of never seeing them again hurt you. You feared for the child's life as he had also been taken at the same time as you but had been imprisoned elsewhere, probably to be experimented on. And you feared for the state of your Mandalorian who would be lost without his kid.

"Food."

The announcement made your stomach lurch as it knocked you out of your thoughts. A small plate, with a pile of something in the middle, was pushed into your cell - probably the most unappealing thing in the galaxy but your only source of nutrition. Your mind strayed to nicer things as you desperately tried to ignore the revolting taste.

You thought of days spent in the Razor Crest, your Mandalorian's ship, as the three of you travelled from planet to planet in order for bounties to be collected. The memories of attempting to teach the child to speak some words in Basic but only getting baby babbling in response, it didn't matter as his eyes always shone as if he knew what you were saying to him.

You ached for your clan of three to be reunited, but realistically you knew that was unlikely. If anything, you just wanted Grogu to be safe. Back with Din and safe. And there was no place safer for him than under the care of Din Djarin.

A guard walking into your cell had you scrambling back against the wall as he took your plate from you and laughed, slightly muffled by his helmet. He kicked at the chain bound around your feet and walked out again, locking the bars behind him.

He was your least favourite of everyone who served in your section of the prison. He didn't seem to like you very much, and wasn't afraid to show it. You feared that one day he'd use the power he had over you to do something awful. So, for now, you tried to play as nice as possible with him.

The sound of low chattering caught your attention, the unmistakable noise of Stormtrooper armour bashing against itself making its way down the corridor. Plastic against plastic made an unbearable racket. You looked up to peek through the bars of your cell and crawled towards the sound, hoping that they weren't coming for you. If you could guess from the sound of them alone, you'd say there were about three or four of them. Definitely more than two and probably less than five.

Your assumption was proven correct when three Troopers turned the corner at the end of the hallway. One was clearly in charge, leading the other two. You thought his name was... you didn't know actually. And you didn't care either. But he was their superior. But the other two... They were low ranking officers, obvious by their uniform and the way they looked around as if they'd never seen the inside of a prison before. Maybe it was their first day on the job? Boy, were they in for a surprise.

The bald one seemed vaguely familiar, although he looked like pretty much any other guy in the galaxy so you didn't dwell on it too much. The other one, however, held no resemblance to anyone you'd ever seen before. He had sad eyes. That was the first thing you noticed about him. Sad, brown eyes. Along with a strong nose that matched his face. Golden skin. And messy hair along with unkempt facial hair. Very un-Trooperish. You wondered how he managed to get away with it. He was rather beautiful to look at. You pushed the thought away with a reminder of what he was - Empire.

As they got closer, you began to overhear their conversation. They were talking about some battle that had been fought a while ago, lots of soldiers lost. Baldy appeared mildly upset as he disclosed that some of his friends had died. Brown eyes wasn't listening and clearly searching for something. And he seemed to find it when his eyes landed on you.

He paused for the smallest fraction of a second before he carried on walking with the other two. He stared at you but you didn't back down, staring right back through the cell bars. You wouldn't let a Trooper intimidate you, especially not a new one. A sense of achievement hit you when he finally looked away, swallowing thickly and averting his gaze as far away from you as possible. He nudged the bald guy next to him with his elbow and tilted his head in your direction.

What the fuck did these guys want with you? You shivered at the thought, a million horrifying ideas running through your brain. You relaxed slightly when they disappeared around the next corner.

The rest of the day passed slowly, as they all did, and soon enough the lights were going out and all prisoners were warned to stay silent for the next few hours. You shifted to get your body in the most comfortable position possible, pretty difficult when you had chains restraining your limbs, and laid down, resting your head in the crook of your elbow.

You drifted off easily, the low drone of the power running through the walls and the floor lulling you to sleep. With nothing to do all day, zero access to natural light and limited portions of food you were tired all of the time. And the little energy you had was reserved for keeping your defences up when guards entered your cell on rare occasions.

Your dreams were full of Din and Grogu, as usual, and you often wondered during your conscious moments whether your brain was reminding you of happy moments to keep you sane or telling you what you'd had and what you'd lost as a way of punishing you.

What you didn't expect was to be awoken a short time later by your cell door being unlocked, the clanging of the metal shocking you out of your dreams. You sat up instantly, freezing when two looming figures walked in, whispering to each other in hushed tones.

The two Troopers from earlier.

You felt sick.

They were both wearing their helmets now and their heads snapped towards you when your chain scraped across the floor painfully. The broader one, who seemed to be leading the team of two, stalked towards you slowly.

"No, no, no, no!" You kicked at him as he went for your ankles trying, and failing, to fight him off. The breath spilling from your lungs was panicked as you failed to notice the other guy groaning and sticking his arms out to tell you to be quiet.

Your name came through the Trooper helmet in a familiar, reassuring voice. It was Din. Your Mandalorian. You'd never felt such a sense of relief race through your body as you relaxed underneath his touch.

"Mando?" You avoided using his real name around other people, as you'd agreed when he first told you. It was a small price for such a wonderful gift. His name. "You're here. You came for me?"

"Yes." He fumbled with your restraints, managing to get the ones off your ankles and moving to the ones on your wrists.

You looked at the other guy who had slipped his helmet off at some point. The bald guy. "Hang on. I saw you earlier. You walked through here with that guy in charge and-" Your eyes snapped back to Din. "That was you."

He was looking at you through the helmet, you could tell. "Come on, we don't have much time."

"B-but... you... your face." Your voice was weak, mind scrambling back to the memory of him. Brown eyes. Sad eyes. Messy hair. Unkempt facial hair. Strong nose. Golden skin. Beautiful.

He faltered. "I know. I did what had to be done."

"You broke your creed." You were almost crying. "To save me."

Hesitation. "Yes, of course. Come on."

The shackles finally fell from your wrists and you launched yourself at him, embracing him even if you were in a life or death situation.

"Thank you."

He seemed uncertain at the gesture as his arms slowly wrapped around your waist. "You don't have to thank me."

You pulled away quickly, not wanting to push it and make him uncomfortable. "Yes, I do." Looking back at the bald guy as you stood up, you squinted at him. "You're familiar."

"Mayfeld." He had a smirk on his face as he watched the interaction between you and Din, sticking out his hand in greeting but you ignored it. "You're welcome for this, by the way. I'm the main reason we're here right now saving you."

His name reminded you of who he was, a scowl settling over your face. "I appreciate it. But we're not out yet. They have people guarding everywhere. And I mean everywhere."

"It won't be a problem." Din's voice was low as he straightened up.

"How do you know so much about this place, hm?" Mayfeld asked you, stepping slightly closer.

"I may have attempted an escape... once or twice." You shrugged and kicked your restraints away from your feet. "That's why I was chained to the wall."

The two men were silent as they stared at you, Mayfeld looking surprised and Din's gaze burning into you despite being obscured by the helmet.

"I know their rotation schedules, how long of a gap there is between shift changes and which Troopers like me best so will leave the handcuffs a little looser." You looked between the two of them. "What? I had time to plan."

"And what have we got now?" Din questioned, glancing back at the open bars. "Anything scheduled to happen?"

You thought it over for a moment, glancing at the clock just outside of your cell. "Shift change in about six minutes. There will be a thirty-three second gap where the doors are unmanned."

"We can work with that." The Mandalorian replied, producing a pair of handcuffs from his back pocket.

A sick feeling settled in your stomach at the sight of them. "Ah, so I'm fake prisoner. Right?"

"In case we come across anyone." Mayfeld explained, a smug grin on his face. "Need to make it believable that we're moving you to a new cell."

With a nod, you looked back up to Din. "Be gentle, okay?"

"Of course, cyar'ika."

You sighed, storing away the nickname to ask about it later. "Where's Grogu?"

His fists clenched by his sides, the leather of his gloves squeaking. "They still have him."

Bile rose in your throat. "What?"

Why was he here if the child was still missing?

"Maker, why are you here?" You asked him, pushing at his shoulder. "You need to save him!"

"I'm here to save you." He was already bored with you again, you could tell by the lack of emotion in his voice. Maybe he was regretting saving you.

"I could have waited! Grogu's a baby!" You cried, worry settling in your stomach at the thought of your poor, poor Grogu possibly being tortured and experimented on whilst you were swooning over Din rescuing you.

"They had information on the kid's location here as well." The Mandalorian offered.

That made more sense. "Ah, so it wasn't just to save me."

"I would've come for you even if they had nothing on him." He sounded annoyed now, frustrated at your questioning.

"Grogu's priority." You turned to Mayfeld. "Why did you let him come here when the child is still missing?"

His hands raised in surrender. "Hey! Don't turn this on me!"

"Be more grateful." Din stated as he walked towards you and turned you around, pulling your hands behind your back to secure them in place with the cuffs. "I could have left you here forever."

You didn't want to admit out loud that what he had just suggested was your worst fear and something you truly believed until he'd showed up. A part of you thought you'd be there for the rest of your life. But you couldn't tell him that. So you offered a weak joke.

"You know what they say... third time's the charm. I'm sure my next attempt at an escape would have worked." The cuffs clicked into place and you tried not to focus on the feeling of being restrained again. You'd spent too long like this, and here you were about to escape and you were back in the same position. It was almost funny.

Din could sense your unease and placed a gloved hand on the small of your back in reassurance.

"Let's go." Mayfeld chimed and marched out of the cell in front of the two of you.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and followed behind, Din's hands locked around yours to make sure the restraints didn't pull too harshly. Weaving in and out of corridors was dangerous, especially with the guards constantly patrolling. Unfortunately, it didn't take long before you bumped into a couple of them.

"Halt!" They shouted, raising their weapons to the three of you. "What are you doing with prisoner five six one?"

There was probably too long of a pause between the question and the answer that was finally given, setting off the initial seed of suspicion.

Mayfeld stepped in with his sly smile. "We were instructed to move the prisoner to a new cell."

The two guards bowed their heads together, mumbling a quick debate. Your hands twitched with nerves behind your back and you felt the Mandalorian trace a thumb over them in comfort. It somewhat worked.

"We'll need you to come with us to confirm." One of them said, straightening up and re-aiming his blaster right at you.

"I'm sorry, cyar'ika." Din grumbled with a sigh behind you before there was a slight squeeze on the side of your neck and you were out.

When you awoke you were surrounded by the sounds of a humming engine and the whirring of the inside of a ship. You jolted up and almost hit your head on the top of the bunk you'd been placed in.

Wait. A bunk?

You looked around you rapidly to suddenly realise that you weren’t just in any bed. You were in Din’s bed. On the Razor Crest.

You jumped out of it and stumbled once you landed on your feet, leaning on the wall for support.

“Woah, woah! Slow down, take it easy.” A modulated voice appeared behind you as strong arms wrapped around your torso to keep you steady.

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” You slurred, still slightly groggy from being unconscious. “How long was I out?”

“A few hours.” Din replied, letting you turn to look at him. He was back in his Beskar armour, looking as shiny as ever. The sight of him made you smile.

“You knocked me out!” You cried but there wasn’t an ounce of real anguish in your voice. In fact, it was rather playful.

He didn’t seem to pick up on that. “It was necessary.”

You waved your hand at him, showing you weren’t really bothered by that. So you approached the subject you were really affected by. “You saved me.”

“Yes.” His voice was a gentle rasp as he spoke the singular word. He was never much of a talker. But you hung on to every word.

“Why?”

“What do you mean why?”

“You removed your helmet to save me.” You frowned at him, like you were annoyed at him for breaking his creed.

Another rasp. “Yes.”

“But-“

“But what?”

You laughed like it was obvious. "I don't understand why. I'm just me."

"And it's just a creed."

Your head reared back. "Just a creed?"

"Just you?" He answered back, imitating your tone and inflection.

"That's- Din, it's your life. Being a Mandalorian is everything to you.” You cried, hands waving in emphasis. “Why would you risk that? For me?"

His head tilted to the side in his usual expression of emotion. Or lack of. "This is the Way."

"No.” You snapped. “The Way is not showing your face under any circumstances. And you- you showed your face!"

"To save you."

"Yes!"

The helmet tilted even further. "What part do you not understand?"

"I'm not worth it." You said, hands wringing together in front of you. And you truly believed what you were saying.

"What?"

"Why would you do that for me?"

"I'd do anything for you."

Your mouth snapped shut, the protest you had prepared dying in your throat.

"You and the kid. I'd tear apart this galaxy for the both of you. You're... you're part of my clan."

A part of you wished he'd left you in that prison. If he'd done that then your head wouldn't be spinning and you wouldn't be overwhelmed with emotions at what he was throwing at you in that moment. His clan. You were a member of his clan.

"Din..."

His name was soft from your lips and he sighed slowly at the sound.

"The only way to explain is-" He cut himself off and inhaled, taking a step closer to you. Placing his hand under your chin, he tilted your head up to face him and lowered his helmet so your foreheads rested together. The cold of his armour sent shivers down your spine. Although it might have also been caused by the action of what he was doing, what he was saying.

Din had explained this to you before when you'd asked about affection between the people of Mandalore. It was a way for Mandalorians to kiss without having to show their faces. It was... intimate, to say the least.

Your eyes fluttered shut when the reality of what he was telling you dawned. "Din..."

Another soft whisper of his name had him sighing again.

Unfortunately, he took it the wrong way and pulled back. "You don't have to- The kid and you are important to me. That's... that's what you need to know. About why- why I did this."

You shook your head and smiled at him, hooking your hand around the back of his neck and tugging him down towards you again so your foreheads touched. "And I was willing to die in that prison to keep you and the child safe."

"They... they were planning to kill you?"

"I kept refusing to teach them how to get the kid to use his wizard baby powers. And I wouldn't tell them where you were either. Or how to contact you."

"What did they need me for?"

"See you as a threat. Or to use me as bait. I'm not sure which. Maybe both."

"It would've worked. You as bait. If I didn't already know where you were, of course."

"Of course." You grinned at him and hoped he was smiling back. You tended to guess what his facial expressions were, normally hoping that he was returning whatever you gave him but usually settling on the fact that he was probably bored and his face would show it. "I missed you."

"I missed you too, cyar'ika."

Your stomach flipped at the Mando'a. "What does that mean?"

"It's Mando'a."

"I guessed that. I'm asking for a translation." You rolled your eyes, finally pulling back from the Mandalorian kiss to look at him properly again. "I hope it's something nice."

You could tell he was smiling when he said his next words. They were hesitant, but tender. "It means darling or sweetheart. A term of endearment."

"Oh... that's- that is nice." Mentally berating yourself, you bit on your lower lip to hold back an excited giggle. Nice? There were so many words that were better than nice. "I don't have anything like that where I'm from. If I did I'd-"

He cut you off with a hand cupping your cheek. "I know, cyar'ika. I know."

There was a moment of silence as the two of you just looked at each other. It was broken when Din sighed suddenly and dropped his hand from your cheek.

"I never wanted you to see my face that way."

Oh.

"Din, I-" You cut yourself off to contemplate your words. "I'm sorry that you had to reveal your face. And that I saw. If I'd known... I wouldn't have stared at you."

"No, I didn't mean it like that." He exhaled loudly. "Do you remember? What I look like?"

The memory of his face flashed in your mind. Of course you remembered. Every single detail. And you'd probably secretly treasure it for the rest of your life.

"Yes..."

His head dropped for a second, helmet aimed at the floor, before it suddenly shot back up to meet your gaze. "And?"

"And what?" Having no idea what he was asking of you, your brows scrunched together.

He was so close now that you were sure you'd be able to hear his breathing even without the modulator. "Was I- was I a disappointment?"

"What?" Disbelief ran through you. How could this wonderful, gorgeous man ever be a disappointment? With or without the helmet obscuring his face he had always been and would always be perfect to you.

"Well, you must have had some... some image of what I'd look like in your head."

You immediately disagreed with him. "No, never."

"Don't lie. It's okay. You can tell me."

"I'm not lying. And I am telling you."

"Cyar'ika..."

Your heart did somersaults in your chest. "No, I never conjured up some fantasy of what you'd look like. Because this here-" You gestured at the whole of him, hand waving up and down his body. "-is my Din. This is you to me. Why would I ever warp who you truly are for some made up version?"

"You must've been curious."

You shrugged. "Maybe at the beginning. But who you are on the inside is all that has ever mattered to me."

"So what did you think when you saw my face?"

Your eyes snapped away from his on instinct, embarrassment crawling through you as you recalled your immediate thoughts of him. Thoughts you'd pushed away at the time because you thought he was a Trooper. Thoughts that had resurfaced when you found out that it was really him.

"Oh, no thoughts." Your voice was weak, barely coming out as more than a squeak. It was clear you were lying. "Just that you were a man..."

"Cyar'ika..."

A flush racked through you at the use of the term of endearment. He knew how to make you weak in the knees, how to make you break, you were sure of it.

"Calling me that isn't fair."

"Don't avoid the question." His head tilted to the side. "Tell me. What did you think?"

Unsure at how he'd turned from insecure, sweet Din to a version of Din that had you swooning, you shook your head at him. "I told you. No thoughts."

"And I can tell you're lying. Look at me." He placed his fingers under your chin to angle you to face him. "Tell me."

You started with a small truth. "Your eyes were sadder than I thought they'd be."

He seemed slightly taken aback by that but didn't hesitate too much in answering. "I was scared I'd lost you."

"But I thought you said you didn't know they were planning on killing me?"

"It was always a possibility." He shrugged. "We were getting towards the end of the cells when I saw you. I was... getting nervous. Thought maybe they'd transferred you somewhere else and I'd never find you. Couldn't live with that idea."

If it were possible, you softened even more under his touch. "But you did find me. And I'm here. Safe. Because of you."

"Hmm." He just hummed in agreement, shifting his hand so it moved to cup your jaw instead. "What else?"

You huffed, hoping you'd got out of the line of questioning about your opinions on his appearance. Whilst having openly admitted a whole spout of feelings for each other, you weren't quite ready to declare how absolutely breathtaking he was.

"Don't make me say it."

"Say what, cyar'ika? Hm? I'm just asking."

You leaned into his touch, the warmth from his palm along with the sound of the Mando'a pet name set off a spark within you. When his gloved thumb swooped over your cheek gently you were sure that your brain short circuited.

"You're beautiful, Din."

The statement was breathless but held certainty in it. The Mandalorian didn't reply, too shocked by your confession. He honestly hadn't been expecting you to be so open. And to say that of all things.

So you kept going. "It was never going to matter to me what you looked like underneath the Beskar. Because who you are as a person is the only important thing. But I have to admit that I thought you were gorgeous when you walked past my cell. And then I immediately felt guilty because I thought you were a Trooper." Your head dipped in shame for a moment. "You are beautiful, Din Djarin. Inside and out."

He still said nothing, hands just lifting to the bottom of his helmet.

When you heard the hiss of the seal, your hands slapped across your eyes. "Ah! What are you doing?"

"Taking off my helmet. What are you doing?" He sounded amused.

"Covering my eyes so I don't see obviously." You scoffed and scrunched your eyes beneath your palms.

"Cyar'ika, you've already seen my face."

"So? I might have remembered details wrong."

"Thought you said I was beautiful?"

You huffed, not liking how he was turning that against you. "I did but revealing your identity is a big no-no, Din! That's what the Way says, right?"

"Right." He was holding back laughter.

"Exactly! Doesn't matter if I've seen you before. Might not remember you completely correctly." You remembered him completely correctly. "So we cannot risk you revealing yourself a whole other time."

The way you were so respectful of his creed, no matter how ridiculous you were being at that moment with your hands pressed tightly over your eyes, had Din tingling inside.

"I don't think it's a risk if you've seen me before and you're a part of my clan, hm?"

You grumbled something underneath your breath. "I can't argue with you on Mandalorian culture because you're the expert. But I feel as if you're finding loopholes here."

"Perhaps. Just look."

The sound of his helmet hissing and the dull clang of it hitting the floor had you hesitating before slowly peeling your hands away from your face.

He was exactly how you remembered.

Every line, every scar, every eyelash, every inch of skin, the deep brown of his eyes, the angle of his nose, the unruly tufts of curls atop his head and the uneven patches of facial hair peppered across his jaw and down his neck. This was your Din Djarin. Stood in front of you, everything exposed and exactly how you remembered him. Exactly how you wanted him. Perfect. The whole of him was perfect.

With a stifled sigh of relief, you reached out your hands to cup his face, hesitating for a moment when you realised he might hate that. "Can I?"

He nodded, his eyes looking sad yet hopeful - an improvement from the last time you saw them.

Your palms settled on his cheeks, thumbs swiping over his cheeks and across his bristly stubble. A smile broke across your face when his eyelids closed and he leaned in your touch.

"Oh, Din..." Tears sprang to your eyes yet you couldn't exactly explain why, the flood of emotions was overwhelming.

"Cyar'ika..." He breathed against the skin of your wrist, turning slightly in your grasp to plant his lips against your palm.

You took a step closer to him, encouraging him to duck down and rest his forehead against yours. A Mandalorian kiss, stripped of the barrier between the two of you. He let out a shaky sigh as you made contact, his hair tickling your brow.

"When was the last time someone touched you? Skin on skin?" You needed to know, he was acting like he'd never felt the warmth of physical contact before.

He hummed lowly in his chest as he thought about it, eyes shut tight in contemplation. "My parents, I think."

Your heart ached for him. It had been decades. You wanted more, to give him more, but worried that it might be too much too fast. But you yearned to touch him, to show him how good it could be.

Broken out of your thoughts by a rustling noise between the two of you, you glanced down without breaking away from him to see that he was removing his leather gloves and throwing them to the floor beside you.

You stared at his hands, scars littering both the palms and the backs. You'd never wanted someone to touch you with their hands more.

Din appeared to have the same thought as he hovered them over your sides, fists clenching open and closed. "Can I?"

"Can you what, hm?" You wanted- no needed him to say it, to be as clear as possible between you.

"Touch you. Can I touch you please?" His eyes were still closed but you could see he was restless behind his lids, almost worried even.

"Of course you can."

You expected him to just place his hands on your hips or waist, which he did technically. What you didn't expect was for him to slide his hands underneath the hem of your shirt and place them directly onto your skin, squeezing slightly when he made contact.

You hummed contently in acknowledgement to tell him that it was okay and stepped closer to him, your chest pressing up against the Beskar now.

“Can I kiss you?” The question was sudden, hushed, almost unsure.

You didn’t hesitate in tilting your head upwards and reassuring him of how much you wanted exactly that. “I’m so glad you asked.”

Then his lips were on yours, a relieved sigh exiting him and a content one leaving you.

You moved together in time, like you knew how the other worked and what they wanted. And maybe you did. Maybe you knew each so well, or knew that the other wanted the same thing you did. Din’s thumbs stroked gently at the skin of your waist and yours swiped over his cheeks, brushing away a stray tear that had fallen from his eyes. His sad, brown eyes. You hoped they’d be less sad in the future.

He broke away for a moment to mumble against your lips. "I was so scared I'd lost you."

You shook your head and kissed him again. "I thought I'd never see you again."

“I wouldn’t have left you there.” He promised, hands gripping you impossibly tighter. “There isn’t a single thing I wouldn’t have done to get you back.”

You just nodded at him, believing every word he was saying, and pulled him closer to kiss you again. The way his lips melded against yours and the way your tongues curled together had you convinced that this was meant to be. It was so utterly perfect that it felt as if the stars had written it centuries ago, always destined to happen.

“Cyar’ika…” He hummed to you when you both broke away again for some air.

As much as you wanted this moment to last forever, a thought suddenly re-entered your mind. “Grogu!”

“It’s okay. We know where he is and we’re on our way to get him back.” He smiled at your concern for the child, understanding it completely. He felt the same after all.

You nodded gently, relieved that the child would be back and safe soon enough. Then things really would be back to how they should be again. The three of you - you, your Mandalorian and your green child. Perfect.

A/N: this has been under works for agessss… hope you enjoyed!

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amaya-writes · 1 year ago

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Hi Amaya!

I don't know if you've already gotten. One of my previous requests but I'd like to send another one in, if you don't mind.

Could you write a one shot with Kiyotaka Ayanokouji, from Classroom of the elite?

I'd really appreciate it if the reader could be kept fem! And the one shot was fluff/angst, but it's ultimately up to you.

Have a nice day/night/afternoon!

Notes: I haven't written for Ayanokouji in forever omg so I just had to do this!

Warnings: slight angst, reader doesn't realise she's being used

Characters involved: Kiyotaka Ayanokouji

Fem reader, you/yours

He tried ignoring your advances, Kiyotaka really did.

At first it was easy to simply drop a small peck or two on the crown of your head as you shifted impossibly closer to him. But you were just so needy.

"Kiyotakaaa."

The way you whined his name made the boy in question sigh as he felt you shift beside him, but he still mustered the energy to lock eyes with you.

"You're behaving weird today."

Your proximity made it easy for him to feel your skin heat up at his words, but your sudden embarrassment unfortunately did nothing to trump your neediness.

Instead, you shifted your hands from their previous position on his chest to cup his cheeks as you planted one peck after the other across his face.

"I miss you."

"I'm right here."

Your nose wrinkled in annoyance at the reply. You tried to hide it, but Kiyotaka could see the way your mannerisms shifted from playfulness to a sudden sense of discomfort.

You were getting offended. And that was never a good thing.

A soft hum left his lips as Kiyotaka shut the laptop that had been resting on his lap for the past hour, allowing it to fall onto the mattress as his hands shifted from the keyboard to the nape of your neck.

"You have me now. So, what did you want?"

Your lips morphed into a wide smile as you winded your arms around his neck. Your nimble fingers trailed through his hair, no doubt ruining his style, but Kiyotaka couldn't have voiced his annoyance even if he wanted to, for your lips were on his a moment later.

You weren't a bad kisser.

In fact, most would probably consider you a very good one.

Your lips moulded against his almost perfectly and the way you occasionally tugged on his bottom lip would have probably arose others.

You knew how to use your hands too, and carded your fingers through his hair in a calming manner that would have Kiyotaka melting in your grasp if he actually liked you.

But he didn't. And he wasn't one to lust either. Which was why your perfect kisses were nothing but a nuisance to him.

As you pulled away for air and trailed soft kisses down his neck it was clear you couldn't catch on to his true feelings. After all, if you were smart enough to read people Kiyotaka would have never picked you over the other Class A girls.

He felt almost robotic as Kiyotaka dropped one of his hands to circle your waist, the other shifting from your neck to cheek as he planted a kiss of his own on your lips.

It was chaste and lacked the arousal staining your every touch, but the gesture was enough to make a stupid smile tug on your lips.

You were buying his lies. Perfect.

"Don't you have a study session to get to?"

Your eyes comically widened at his question. The sight made Kiyotaka let out a small scoff as he watched you reach for your phone and mutter soft curses when you noticed time.

"Shit you're right. Bye hun."

You shifted to drop one last peck on his cheek before collecting your things and hurriedly racing out of his bedroom.

A soft sigh tumbled from his lips as Kiyotaka watched the door slip shut behind you.

He was free. Finally.

Kiyotaka's slight smile shifted to display his real annoyance as he turned towards the discarded laptop.

If he knew pretending to be romantically invested with you would be this tiring Kiyotaka would have opted for other methods to draw information from you.

But alas, there were only so many ways to best Class A, and none of them could be accomplished without insider intel.

He needed you. The realisation drew yet another sigh from him.

"Only a few weeks."

Kiyotaka clicked his tongue as he muttered the words, watching his laptop hum to life to display the recording app he had set up in your phone.

If circumstances hadn't forced him to be apathetic, perhaps Kiyotaka could come to actually love you. But for now you were nothing but a pawn dressed up in his queen's garbs.

And Kiyotaka couldn't wait to get rid of you.

#classroom of the elite #mastermind kiyotaka #kiyotaka ayanokouji #ayanokouji kiyotaka #ayanokouji x you #kiyotaka x reader #kiyotaka x you #classroom of the elite kiyotaka #kiyotaka fluff #ayanokoji x you #ayanokoji x reader #ayanokoji kiyotaka #ayanokoji x fem reader #ayanokoji hcs #classroom of the elite x you #classroom of the elite x reader #ayanokoji oneshot #classroom of the elite oneshot #classroom of the elite fanfic

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skyrigel · 7 months ago

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Hey Rigel I love ur work like so much 💓 can I request Anthony bridgerton where he is getting married and realises his love his y/n or smth similar with him getting jealous and angry when y/n and Benedict or colin fake date like tht or anything if this doesn't make sense 😭

Enchanted | A.B x you

Pairing: Anthony bridgerton x fem!reader, Benedict x fem!reader x colin ( platonic) wc - 3.8k

Synopsis: When Aubreyton's CEO strikes a match with Miss Edwina sharma, because she's nice and kind and witty, ofcourse nothing could go wrong, except you have feelings for Anthony.

Warning :CEO! Anthony x assistant! reader, Asshole! Anthony, Benedict x sophie, Polin, bridgerton's chaotic dynamic, reader and Benedict share one brain cell that's mostly with you, alcohol, fake marriage( Anthony and reader), social media au, office au, modern setting, forced proximity, jealousy jealousy, mutual pinning, fluffy fluff, bit angst, arranged marriage, bit Collen Hoover bashing but it's a joke ( maybe not ) no Edwina bashing, scary Kate sharma, yes!!! ( Might add more later )

" Your brother is an idiot." You said, gritting your teeth as your mail blew with applicants, beautiful young ladies with peculiar yet remarkable talents.

" That." Benedict catched the grape midair with his mouth," we know of." He added with a cocky grin.

" Read another ! " Colin peppered, stealing your cookies which you ignored, sighing as you opened another mail.

" Tiana Young, twenty-one, I like to read, write and sing, my favourite author is Collen Hoover—" Benedict snorted, " —I like children and hope to be a mother, I am very soft spoken and good natured, my neighbours call me Ti, because I am a tea kinda person—"

" What's a tea kinda person ? " Colin bited the smuggled cookie, Benedict pulled the remaining to his side hastily, you felt your appetite long gone.

" It's like...they are like tea..." Benedict said, more in doubt as he looked for affirmation.

" Like milk tea or another tea ? " You asked, perhaps tea could takeaway your headache.

" What's an another tea ? " Colin's hand began to pull the tray, Benedict frowned but said nothing, taking one hurriedly and breaking it into two parts, offering you the bigger one.

" No thank-you, let me fix this Tiana's appointment." You exhaled, copy pasting a paragraph how (un) grateful you were to her for reaching out, she would soon have her appointment date and bla bla bla.

" I knew my brother was workholic but this wife hunting thingy is so exhausting." Benedict wiggled his eyebrows, you knew he was being kind but he wasn't helping at all.

" It would have been over if his requirements weren't so high, like he's not looking for a wife but some utopian woman god has yet to create ! " You were ranting, you knew, but this was the only way you could stop yourself from punching Anthony for putting you into this misery.

" Why can't he just fall in love ? " Colin looked at you and Benedict seriously, his mouth covered in crumbs, " Come on, love is like...like a force to be reckoned with ! " He beamed, ofcourse it was a force, didn't Penelope wrote something smiliary in her latest book, you somehow felt your heart shuddering, what would happen if Anthony were to be in love, some intelligent, beautiful woman, some utopian goddess of his, you didn't like the idea one bit, so you laughed it off.

" Brother in love ? " Benedict was in stitches, banging his palm on the table, shaking few very important papers that laid without any significance. They will be probably used as napkin if you weren't there.

" It's not funny." Colin got up, taking his coat, he rolled his eyes when Benedict refused to stop laughing, you shaked your head helplessly as another mail popped up, Jasmine had written a essay about global peace and increasing capatilism, you groaned, damn you Anthony bridgerton!

" Good evening Anthony." You tapped save on your screen as Anthony entered the office, a beak of sweat trickling down his neck line, okay, someone got either fired or roasted down to their very existence, you preferred the former.

" Good evening y/n." He looked up at you, he worried his jaw to say more but decided against it as he settled on his chair, it was very comfy and very big, years of working with him but you couldn't fathom the courage to ever have a taste, perhaps Benedict would help, maybe then.

" There are twelve appointments I have scheduled for tomorrow, Miss Becka—"

" Cancel them."

" What ?! " You almost shouted, you didn't waste your whole day to adjust and fit these pretty woman according to the time and weather and place and Anthony's mood so nothing went wrong, did he just said cancel them like it was nothing, this—

" We are going out Tommorow, it might take all day so cancel them." Anthony ran a hand through his hair as he exhaled sharply, your brain short circuited at the words more and more made some meaning, we ?! Did he, for heaven's sake said we ?

" You and me ? " You blurted and lowered your gaze when his eyes snapped to you, a deep color blazed your nose as you fiddled with your skirt.

" Yes, me and you." He confirmed and you could swore, that was a smile, a small, thin, almost unrecognisable on his always stern face, but that was a smile.

" Why ? " You closed your laptop, tucking the strands of your hair that usually came out after a long day, behind you ear.

Anthony pressed a key and it beeped, he shifted his face to you, thinking that he was almost frowning and finally, he said with a neutral face.

" I have found a match." His face gave nothing away, " Miss Edwina will be most suitable for marriage." He said it like it wasn't his marriage he was talking about, " she's very graceful and witty and would make a amiable wife and a kind loving mot—"

" Right." You snapped mid course, his mouth was hanging open with words lost in void, you knew very well Miss Edwina was a fine young lady, she was beautiful and kind and sharp at wits, ofcourse this ended your torment or perhaps began another, but not now, you needed to think.

" I..I promised Benedict for dinner. " You muttered, feeling your whole body numb as you stumbled out of your seat, Anthony watched, something glazed in his eyes but you couldn't place it, you might if you looked longer but you had no courage left now. You were almost at the glassy door, he was watching you intently and you felt his gaze burn at your back.

" You like my brother quite very much." He startled you, you paused, heart beats echoing through your throat. It was like he was accusing you, almost jabbing his finger on your chest. What does that mean ?

" What could I say ? He's very amiable." You turned to smile at him, it trembled on your lips and Anthony scoffed slightly, mouth curving in disdain but it was gone as soon as it crossed his face. Damn you !

" Have a nice day sir." You closed the door behind you, covering your face as a muffled scream cut through your cartilage.

" Miss Edwina ?! " Benedict almost screamed as you narrowed your eye sternly at him, he lowered his voice in a whisper, ducking his head down towards you, " sorry but Miss Edwina ?! "

" I know, I know." You swigged another gulp of the dizzy bubbling liquid that will give you a terrible headache tommorow but right now, you just wanted this uneasiness feeling to go away.

" Didn't her scary sister vowed to ruin him or something like that ? " Benedict licked his thumb, eye's watering at the spice, you loved this place's Chole bhature very much, last time Benedict cried when he accidentally bited the green masala filled chilly.

" Yeah, she refused to take ahead the Mayfair deal, or something like that, not that it would ruin anything and—" You sighed, leaning back your head as the soft music tickled your senses.

" What ? " You heard his faint murmur.

" Well Anthony was right, as soon as our team announced his engagement, ofcourse not revealing the bride, he's well trending—"

" He's always trending." Benedict groaned, chugging water as his lips were swollen with spiced heat.

" Yes, but not for thirsty things, i meant that Aubreyton is trending and our shares are touching the sky and it's a whole profitable season ahead." You ended breathlessly, you stared at him for full second before both your eye's crinkled with smiles and laughter that came from your hearts, it lightened the air somehow as well as your heart.

" You do remember I am part of the executive board ? " Benedict tilted his head with a warm smile and you shaked your head, feeling tipsy.

" Like you do anything except torment me and poor Colin ! " You pouted, feeling your cheeks flush as Benedict threw his head back and laughed.

" Poor Colin ? " He cooed, " he's probably getting laid tonight." He added with a wink, you slapped his shoulder nervously.

" Penelope replied ? "

" Ofcourse, my dear little brother wrote a whole ass three page message, with a picture of all her books that too hardcover and first editions."

" Wow." You said, impressed, Colin was head over heels, it was only a matter of time since the dazzling author knew.

" And what of Miss Beckett ? " You wiggled your eyebrows like Benedict did when he teased you, he turned a beetroot red as he fumbled with the last contents of his glass.

" She refused for a live in relationship." He said, his face grew sad and you mentally winced for putting him there.

" Oh." You nodded, Sophia lived with her evil mother who liked to see her suffer and she was, afterall, too good of a girl.

" Benedict..." You whispered when he closed his eyes softly, hiding his face behind his palms.

" I am not crying." He was. He sniffed as a few heads turned towards the pair of you, many with sympathy, probably thinking you had refused to marry him or something.

" Hey, hey, hey..." You pulled yourself as you dizzily tripped over to his side, wrapping your arms around him as he melted in your embrace.

" She doesn't understand..." He said it so muffled that it was unable to make out what he said, but you understood it anyway.

" She will, she loves you so much." You kissed his head and he nodded, tears streaking your shirt as he finally emerged with red, sticky face and puppy bright eyes.

" I think i drank too much." He admitted, you nodded, feeling yourself floating too.

" Let's call a cab, we shouldn't drive." You suggested, fiddling with cash as you payed the bill, leaving good tip for the teenager waiter, who smiled kindly at every inner joke Benedict shot.

" Uh huh." He focused hard on his phone, sticking his tongue out like he did when he was really, really drunk and or just really, felt the need to, or he was about to do something stupid, which he did.

Twelve minutes later, Anthony bridgerton was standing outside the restaurant with a heavy frown and it was strange to see him in normal clothes, like that grey t-shirt felt odd yet gorgeous and those sweatpants, you were way too drunk, you realised.

" You'll make a fine gentleman." Anthony curted his mouth, his words dripped with sarcasm that you and Benedict were too drunk to catch on.

" Thankyou, the cab idea was mine." He said smugly, ducking out when you smacked his ass with your purse, Anthony watched with wide eyes.

" Liar." You jabbed at him, he started to giggle and stumbled, taking you along before Anthony grabbed you by the waist and pulled you away from him, Benedict winked at you when Anthony closed his eyes, frustration or whatever that dazed him, his touch was electrifying, like current jostling in water.

Anthony pulled away his arms from you, his eyes strained like it pained him just the same it hurt you.

" You are wasting my time brother, get in the car." He glared, " come." He said to you, his gaze softened but that could be alcohol, you weren't reliable narrator especially when it was Anthony bridgerton.

" Well you could have refused." Benedict ran and sprawled inside like a bear, covering the whole back seat with his wasted body.

" Yes well, I didn't come for y—" he clamped his mouth in a thin line, nerve twitching on his forehead as he breathed hard, eyeing you as you ran after Benedict's seat thievery, you opened the door and his head almost snapped when he looked up you, it was a nauseous enough to make you vomit.

" Move." You pulled his hair, in no hell you will sit in the front seat, not like you haven't, but you were drunk and you were angry and you hated Anthony and you wished so much to just, to just, just once, once just, kiss him hard, that's alcohol, bloody alcohol.

" Leave this idiot." Anthony was suddenly behind you, he touched your elbow with same electric touch, guiding you to the empty front seat as he opened the door, you could feel Benedict wiggling his eye, you will deal with this bastard later.

" I was thinking—" Benedict started, once Anthony started driving, he was shut real quick when Anthony glared with words.

" Stop thinking." Anthony rolled the steering wheel and you looked away, those veins taunted and lured you, it was maddening and the streets were much dull and undistracting.

Benedict giggled at something he probably said in his head, you chuckled when he burped, he did too, only Anthony didn't.

" Don't you have a date tommorow with Mr. Dorset ? " Benedict craned his neck to get a view of you, two Bridgerton's eyes were too much to take as you thought hard, well yes a date, with Mr. Dorset, yes, you did remember.

" Ofcourse." You said, Anthony drifted a turn that jerked your head forward and you would have got a concussion if it wasn't his big palm that came for rescue.

" Are you okay ? " He asked, slowing down the car as his fingers pushed you back until the back of your head was pressed against the seat.

" Yeah." You confirmed, nothing was more threatening than his touch. He should bloody know that.

" Are you okay ? " Benedict mimicked and you realised he was down there, squashed on the car floor, his face hidden somewhere.

Anthony ignored him as his expressions hardened, he was breathing hard as he worried his lips, thinking and thinking.

" You do know it might take all day." Anthony finally said and you cocked your head to his side, you were drunk and well, sleepy too.

" What ? Well, it's a dinner date." You assured, Mr. Dorset wasn't letting go and a Thai curry wouldn't hurt anyway.

" Yes well, it might be very late." He was frowning now, his eyes were on the road but he would glance between nano seconds.

" Really ? " You pouted, you were way too gone now, it didn't matter, Anthony's eyes stopped at your lips and when he looked up, something changed, like it must have changed a long ago but it's colours were only visible now, like moon hiding behind the clouds, beaming but not seen and when it's finally high, hanging at sky, you blinked, expecting it to be gone, like everything, but when you opened your eyes, it was still there, as clear as ever, shimmering at you. That's alcohol, bloody alcohol.

" Yes.." Anthony gulped hard, pulling at Benedict's apartment, how much he wanted sophie to built a home with him, soon, you thought, soon.

" Oi y/n, I think I found your lipstick." Benedict hopped up, his face had lines where because he didn't bother to get up once he had fallen, with a shade that you never used in your whole lifetime, Anthony looked away when you tried to catch his eyes.

" That's not mine." You said, feeling anger creep up your neck, not knowing why, it's not that you were the only one who sat in his car and ofcourse you weren't his girlfriend, you weren't his friend even, he was your boss, you were his assistant, that's it, that's fucking it, you really wanted to punch his face, that's bloody alcohol, you would never drink again.

" Benedict, my brother." Anthony took the lipstick away which Benedict was trying to apply on himself, " get the fuck out."

" Goodbye to you too brother." He leaned to smooch Anthony when he hastily pulled away, growling.

" Bye bye sweetheart." Benedict smooched your cheek then and his lips only touched your warm skin before Anthony pushed him back in the back seat, it was, kinda rough.

" You are drunk." He told Benedict who shrugged, blinking heavily.

"He always kissed me goodbye." You glared at Anthony, this freaking bastard, chew on your lipstick, Idiot. You leaned down to kiss Benedict's cheek and he giggled softly, eyes locked with Anthony, his wide bastard grin flashing, glittering as Anthony eye rolled.

When Benedict was dropped, it was your turn, Anthony stared ahead like a statue, you were suffering in your own head.

The silence became heavy in air as the music was either tragic or too loud for your head and Anthony sensed the discomfort, turning it off altogether.

" What are we going to do actually? Venue deciding or something." You finally spoke, remembering how much you stared and stared when the article popped up, Anthony bridgerton looking for a wife !! You remembered the qualification list, should be well spoken, should be linguistic, should want kids, should be family loving, should be this, should be that, should have good enough hips to bear a child like what ?!

You remembered days and days when he would have his appointments, yes appointments, most of times he was out within five minutes, a frown on his face.

" She doesn't know algebra." He said one time when he came out within two minutes and you shrugged, well algebra was hard afterall.

And now Miss Edwina had ended all your miseries and torture, no lists, no more algebra's and Collen Hoover's, nothing of that anymore, Anthony would be a husband soon and perhaps he would love her, or already love her, he was so determined even when Kate sharma threatened to cut deals with Aubreyton if didn't stop sending flowers, well that was your doing, sending flowers because it was your idea, but well, it didn't matter.

" Well not the venue, but wedding ring and wedding dresses, Mother say we match and cake tasting and flowers—" we.

" When's the wedding ? " You looked at him scornfully, Anthony's eyes lowered at you as he stopped the car.

" Next week." Fuck you Anthony!

" Shouldn't you decide that with Miss Edwina herself ? " You were glad, but you had this feeling that he would be taken away from you, once married, he might not be yours, he was never yours, but still, why not start now ?

He frowned like it wasn't the most sensible and obvious thing.

" I..." He hesitated, " Miss Edwina might not want to go, since the wedding is too near and also, to keep it a private engagement."

" Oh." You didn't get a thing, your mind wasn't working as Anthony leaned down to open your door, you freezed, only your heart thudded loudly, could he hear ? What he did to you, well it wouldn't surprise you if he knew and still chose to torture your poor soul. " Why not state it publicly ? "

" I can't deal with the fanfictions." He said in matter of factly way. " And paparazzi giving Edwina trouble." Don't say her name, don't.

" Fanfictions ?! " You laughed so loud that he actually stopped thinking whatever he was, and just looked at you, as if taking in every detail, savouring them, drinking every bit of you in, he looked like he was mesmerized but that was just alcohol, just your silly heart, just you, who had read all those one shots, about you and him, ofcourse you weren't going to admit it and ofcourse you would be quite dammed if you ever saw Anthony getting shipped with Edwina Sharma, they are getting married in a week idiot, yes, but not today, not now, later, when it was time, please, not now. Later, now he was yours.

" You have a good choice either way." He was, for no reason, walking you to your door, you remembered how Benedict was practically kicked out earlier, he would tease you so much if you were to ever tell him.

" Oh please." You chuckled, rubbing your hands together in the chilly air, " I gifted Benedict onesies on his birthday."

Anthony smiled, it didn't leave his face until he caught you staring and you noticed how different he looked, when those lines were of joy instead of worry, he looked young and his boyishness made your heart do cartwheels.

" That was just a joke." He amused, " wasn't it ? " His smile faltered when you shaked your head in a no, fumbling for you keys.

" It wasn't so bad." Anthony said, somewhat traumatised, " Benedict wore them anyway."

" It had penguins ! " You cringed at the memory, a drunkish Polaroid like, blurred and saturated, it was vivid but just like yesterday, Anthony didn't dance until you were both so drunk, perhaps he smiled back than too, and looked just as dazzling.

" You are good y/n." Anthony said sincerely, " stop being mean to yourself." You opened the door but your hands freezed at the doornob, why Anthony had to cut the right wires, why he had to upside down your whole world ?

" Well, same to you Anthony." You said, he lingered on the doorway more than he should, it was alcohol, it really, really was but no amount of gaslighting could blur the memory away, you always remembered how brave you were that night when you leaned down, one step not much, and placed a small, chaste kiss, just a brush of your lips against his blazing skin. A touch to his soul, it sparkled and rose and busted into a thousand orbs and sprinkled like glitters on you and him.

" Good night." You whispered, Anthony stared, too stunned to say anything, then he smiled, small and enchanting.

" Good night y/n." His smile stayed.

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championofmyheart · 7 days ago

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Hii!! So it's very close to christmas and i saw in your profile that you are a swiftie, so why not do a Jack Champion 'tis the damn season inspired fanfic (idk if it's called like this) and you can do it pure angst, but that ends in fluff (or no, that's on u) anyways have a great day and i think ur profile is gorgeous!

'Tis the damn season

Pairing: Jack Champion x Fem!Reader.

Summary: Jack goes back to his hometown for the holidays and reconnects with an old flame. (angst ++ slight fluff but not really...)

Wc: 1.5k

Author's note: Thank you so much for the request🫶🫶 I love this song so much, seeing this in my inbox made jump in glee. I was a bit confuzzled by how to start this in the beginning but I ended up working it out anyway. I hope it meets your expectations!!! ++ THANK YOU! I worked very hard on it hehe.

Remember to reblog in order to support small creators !!

The flickering light of the fireplace dances while casting shadows on the walls of your living room. Its soothing warmth snuck in through the cracks of the window you were sitting by and was a welcome contrast to the crisp air of winter's night.

It served as a reminder of what was coming–or who was coming. The Christmas season meant two things for you, one less expected than the other: It meant exchanging gifts with family and enjoying their presence and it was also marked as the time Jack Champion would return. As if you weren't dreading this day enough, the doorbell rang. You didn't have to check if it was him. You knew how this went.

Growing up, your family and his own spent every holiday together, starting from when you were both little. There was a feeling that came into flower as you grew up, one that pulled your gaze towards him, a warmth spread across your cheeks whenever you spoke to him. It wasn’t something he could ignore either and so, after one fateful dinner a realisation struck both of you.

There wasn’t any way you could forget that night. He was curled up in your arms, his back facing you. You played with the curls of his hair, attempting to get rid of the tremble of your hands. It felt right, this felt right.

The silence in the air hung heavy as the two of you processed the moment of tender surrender you had just shared. You broke the stillness with your words, “What does this mean for us…?” Jack turns to you his features are soft under the red glow of the Christmas lights peeking through the window of the room. Your breath catches in your throat–scared to hear his response, scared that he can hear your beating heart that chased after his own.

“I don’t know” His voice is quiet, a murmur you can barely hear.

He felt the way your body moved away from his own and missed its’ warmth, “You don’t know? What do you mean you don’t know?” You furrowed your brows in disbelief at his words. Jack calls out your name gently, his hand reaching out.

A scoff left your lips as you sat upright, “You can’t not know, are you serious?” He followed in suite. “It’s complicated–”

“It really isn’t” A deep sigh left his lips as you interrupted him, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Do you like me?” You ask, your voice coming out as a desperate plea instead of a question.

Jack stays quiet, the words are lodged in his throat. He couldn’t say anything. As he responded with nothing but silence, you buried your face in your hands. “You can’t do this to me” you breathe out, your hands moving down your face to hold yourself. His arm draped over your shoulder, pulling you into a warm embrace, “I won’t, I’m sorry… I won’t”

But he did. Every single Christmas since that night. He did.

It was partially your fault, there was no denying that. It was impossible to refuse his advances, especially when he looked up at you with his big brown eyes, silently begging for your touch. His pleading look was irresistible, it left no room for rejection. This night was gonna be different though, you’re making sure of that.

His parents welcomed him inside the home while you stared out through the foggy window. Your mind was cursed with the thought of him, it was as if he was engraved into the inside of your brain. It didn’t take long before you spared him a glance, only to be met with him already looking your way.

The heat crept up your cheeks as he studied you, a faint grin on his lips. You return the smile even though you were betraying your inner turmoil as you looked at his pretty face. His eyes left yours, moving on to speak to your mother who was welcoming him with open arms. You felt a tinge of annoyance rise within you at this well-natured gesture from her, god, you were so salty.

Not a word would be exchanged over dinner. You had maintained a facade of normalcy the entire time, suppressing the heartache.

You noticed there was something off despite everything going as usual. He was off. No longing glances, no shared smiles, and for once you thought that maybe this was it. Maybe he’d regretted everything you two had. A part of you would find comfort in letting go of this hometown fling you’ve turned into but the rest would be devastated, after all, you have spent years pining on him. Hoping one day he would run to you and finally accept the truth he has always denied: that he loved you.

After dinner, you took refuge in your room upstairs. It was something you and Jack always did to pry off the aunts who would swarm you both with invasive questions about your lives.

It was also the same place the two of you shared your firsts. A soft chuckle leaves your lips at the not-so-innocent memories. Suddenly, a few taps on the door pulled you out of your reverie, you looked up to see the devil himself, Jack, in the flesh.

“Hey…” He was leaning against the door frame, his arms crossed a playful grin on his face.

Maybe leaving the door wide open wasn’t a good idea. If you were the same girl from last season, you would have been beaming but you’ve had some time to think over the span of the year.

Jack wasn’t stupid. He could tell something was amiss. You had been distant ever since he got there, he could see through your front. He calls out your name–the sound of your name rolling off his tongue causing butterflies to erupt–and steps inside, shutting the door behind him to offer a tiny bit of privacy in this full house. “What’s going on? Is everything alright”

‘No, nothing was right’ The words echoed in your mind yet you shook your head in dismissal. “Yeah, just feeling a bit sick, I guess?”

He raises a brow, not believing a word that comes out of your mouth. A weary sigh left his lips as sauntered towards you and settled to sit beside you, the mattress dipping under his weight. You stayed quiet, wishing this conversation would end. He says your name once more. “I’m fine, I swear”

“No, you aren’t” His tone was firm as he spoke, leaving no room for debate. “Just be honest with me”

“What do you think is wrong?” His eyebrows knit together, mouth slightly agape. “I.. How could I- I’m not a mind reader” He lets out a scoff, the sound escaping his lips in disapproval.

“Can you just talk to me?” Jack pleads as you stand up to pace around the room. You wrap your arms around yourself, pulling at your clothes in frustration. With a deep sigh, you decide to be honest with him.

You took a deep breath, “Do you really wanna know what’s been bothering me?” You began, finally fully facing him for the first time since his arrival. “It’s you, Jack” Your voice is heavy with the weight of your admission. His puppy dog eyes meet yours and for a fleeting moment you want to take back your words, take him into your arms and erase the pain you see in his gaze but you stand your ground allowing the words to spill from your mouth.

“This so-called relationship we have is wearing me out. It’s just fucking convenient for you, isn’t it? To have a girl waiting for you back at home while you run around doing whatever you want at your fucking job. You stick with me ‘cause I am that one constant in your life, the one the ‘road always leads back to’” You take a moment to catch your breath. “And you know I won’t leave because I am so in love with you. This isn’t a relationship, Jack. It’s a one-sided thing and that fucking sucks, man” Your voice trembles with tears threatening to spill as you confess the truth, laced with the poison of bitterness.

There was tension in the air so thick that you could slice through it. Jack was left speechless. Your forehead creased, a desperate sigh leaving your throat. “I just… do you like me?” The question was so simple, so innocent and it was the same one he couldn’t bring himself to answer years ago however, this time he finally had a response. Jack gets up, approaching you, “I do… I swear to god I do, I’m sorry” He closes the space between the two of you, his eyes filled with a mixture of regret and guilt.

He tenderly cradles your face in his hands, and you instinctively lean into his touch. “I’m sorry” He whispers, his thumb brushing away the tears that streamed down your cheeks. “I won’t leave this time” He promises, but the flicker of hope that burned in your chest quickly dissipated in the harsh light of reality; Jack Champion couldn’t afford to stay.

You found yourself giving in, pulling him even closer and inhaling his familiar scent. All the barriers it took a lot of effort to build seemed to crumble from the warmth of his touch. Maybe he couldn’t be yours forever, but for this moment, he was. This time, every Christmas, he belonged to you.

And how could you ever refuse him? ‘Tis the damn season after all.

written by @championofmyheart ( @casimirsstache ) please do not copy, modify, or repost my work onto other platforms !! 2024

End notes: I hope you guys enjoy this one X3 I worked very hard on it. Thank you so much reading!!! Also ... This wasn't exactly proofread so apologies for any mistakes!!!

#champion of my heart fics ≽^•⩊•^≼#jack champion x fem reader #jack champion x reader #jack champion #jack champion is sooo cute #i love him #ethan landry x you #ethan landry fluff #ethan landry imagine #ethan landry x reader #scream 6 #ethan landry #fanfic #scream fandom #scream fanfic #jack champion fanfic #jack champion angst #tis the damn season

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pandora-writes-one-piece · 2 months ago

Text

Mine to Protect Part II

Source for Pic

Mine to Protect

Word Count: 7026

Tags for the whole story: Highlander!Kid; Fem!Reader; Alternate Universe - Scotland 13th century; Gore; Blood; Violence; Death; Mild Angst; Fluff; Nudity; Cursing; Sexual Tension; Explicit Sexual Content; Protective!Kid; Possessive!Kid; Soft!Kid; Feral!Kid; Jealous!Kid; Happy Ending; Sort of Enemies to Lovers; Teasing; Banter; NSFW; MDNI; Mature Audiences;

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Summary: Your father and his allied clans are at war, and you're a liability. When you're assigned a guard to protect you - against your will - you do everything in your power to infuriate him. The problem is that he can be more infuriating than you, as you're about to find out.

Notes: This is the largest of the chapters, sorry about that but I couldn't find another logical way to split it! I hope you're all enjoying Highlander Kid! I know I am 😎 Also, this part doesn't have a prompt, as it was pushed to part 3.

Part 2 of 3

The days that follow the attack, you don’t acknowledge what passed between you and Kid. Neither does he. Other than building an intricate iron lock for your window himself, and forbidding you to open it at night, which inevitably leads to another argument between the two of you.

“You don’t give me orders! My father hired you!”

“Stop bein’ a brat! It’s a damned lock, and ye have the key tae open it! It’s no’ a prison, lass!”

“You don’t tell me what to do.”

“I do when it comes tae yer safety! Between all yer shenanigans and trips tae town, I’m already burdened enough.” You turn sharply away from the window, your gaze burning against his as he purses his lips, realising the mistake he made.

“Burdened?”

“No’ what I meant. Yer just being difficult.” He clears his throat, grunts, and crosses his arms over his chest, clearly a defensive position.

“Aye, I get what you meant, Kid.” You scoff. “Matter of fact, you just earned a night off. I don’t want to burden you. Go away and leave me alone. You're dismissed, Kid.”

He stands in silence for a beat, and you turn back to the window, actually locking it so he does leave you alone.

“Yer no’ the one who hired me, lass. Ye cannae dismiss me.”

“Get out!” You shout, banging your palms against the window, frustrated breaths leaving your mouth in ragged pants. You don’t look, but a shuffle of clothes and the click of the door tells you he’s left.

Good.

Because today, you need to go into town without your shadow, or your plan won’t have the slightest chance of working.

-*-

You heed the advice Kid gave you on your first encounter and cover your face with the hood of a plain, worn-out brown cloak, travelling inconspicuously to the inn on the outskirts of town, where no one will find you.

You arranged an encounter with a laird’s employee from one of the opposing clans. He has vital information that could help turn the tide of the war, and he’s willing to sell it to the highest bidder. With a sack full of jewellery, you’re it at the moment.

Dismissing Kid was either the brightest idea you had or the dumbest. You don’t know this man at all, but you came prepared. Your hands pat the two daggers strapped to your thighs, and you take a deep breath before entering the inn. It’s eerily empty which makes your encounter setup very suspicious.

Except for the fact that the man is young –roughly your age– handsome, and clean. So maybe this can pass as a lover’s encounter instead of a strategic one, and that plays in your favour.

“My lady.” The man drawls as you sit in front of him, pulling your hood back a little but not removing it entirely.

“Sir.” You return the greeting. “Let’s get to the point, please. I must return before my absence is noted.” You think about Kid once more and hope you made the right choice by dismissing him.

“I understand the rush, but I must say I’m impressed.” You raise an eyebrow, your right hand clutching the dagger at your thigh as you hold your breath. “You’re stunning.” A small surge of heat rushes to your cheeks as you were not expecting that.

“Thank you?” You begin, not really knowing how to respond to his compliment. “Now, I have gold and–”

“The price has changed.” He says smoothly as his eyes devour you.

“What do you mean? We had an agreement, I can’t get more gold on such short notice, and–”

“I don’t want gold anymore.” Your breath hitches as he grins, and you understand immediately what he wants, even before he says it. “I just want one night with you.” He says it anyway.

One night? Closing your eyes, you rest your elbow on the table, pressing your index finger and thumb against the bridge of your nose. One night… if one night is all it takes to get information that can free your people, you’re willing to sacrifice it.

It’s not like you’re a maiden anyway. You’ve been with men –scratch that– you’ve been with boys who barely knew how to touch you, but… are you willing to do it for your people?

Absolutely.

“Fine. I accept.”

-*-

Kid can barely believe his eyes as he watches through the window. He rakes one hand through his fiery hair while the other grips the handle of his sword. He followed you to the outskirts of town to a run-down, rickety inn just so you could meet with a man? He lets out a low growl as he clenches his teeth.

That’s why you got rid of him so fast earlier, you wanted to get laid and needed to get rid of him.

He knows he should turn back and go to the keep, he even tries to argue with himself, trying to convince himself that the only reason he’ll stay is because your father hired him to protect you, but he knows he’s lying.

He’ll stay because he can’t bear the thought of you in another man’s arms, but he bears it even less if he has to stay away from you while you do it. It’s the most twisted form of masochism he’s ever known.

At first, it looked like just a meeting, but now you’re climbing the steps towards the rooms and he can barely stop his pacing. The demons in his head fight and struggle against him, as they have been doing since the cursed day he laid eyes on you. Demanding that he split his attention between duty and want, honour and need.

You’re the most beautiful, aggravating creature he’s ever met. And damned if he doesn’t care for you more than he should.

Fuck this.

There’s no way he’ll dig a hole in the floor with his pacing when he can drag you out of that fucking room himself. You can be mad at him for all eternity, if you wish, but he’d much rather have that than see you in another man’s arms.

Kid silently enters the inn, his scowl and weapons prompting no questions from the man behind the counter when he leaves a coin there and climbs up. Upstairs, there’s only one closed door.

Kid seethes and grits his teeth, his jaw nearly snapping from the tension, but as soon as he reaches the door, he hesitates, your voice, coming softly from the inside, stops him in his tracks.

“Can I have the war information now?” You ask, a slight tremble in your voice he’s not accustomed to hearing, which makes him furrow his brows.

War information?

You’re giving yourself to this bastard for information? Somehow, this makes him even madder than the though of you being here willingly just to fuck another man. This is wickedly cruel. Sacrificing yourself for information?

He knows that’s something you’d do easily. You go out almost every night, there’s barely any jewel to your name, and you give away most portions of your own food. He knows how much you’re willing to give and do for the people you care so much about. But this? This he cannot stomach.

“Soon, my lady, soon. Let’s get to this first, shall we?”

Kid clenches his fists and hesitates again. You being mad at him for interrupting a quick lay was something he was fine with. But you being utterly angered at him for ruining your chance of turning the tide of the war… that will get him in real trouble with you. And he’s weighing all the pros and cons of it. Is he willing to risk it? Can he fucking bear it? Because there’s no way he’s going to leave you here alone, even if he has to hear everything that happens in that fucking room.

“Wait, wait. No, stop. I’ve changed my mind, I need more time and–”

“I think not, my lady. You’ve had enough of that.”

Fuck the risks.

-*-

Your hands are still pushing the man’s hands away from your legs when Kid kicks the door open, sending it flying back, broken and splintered. A gasp leaves your lips as he rushes forward, grabbing the man by the collar and shoving him to the ground near the door.

“Get the fuck out.”

Kid doesn’t need to say it twice before the man bolts, tail between his legs. And now you’re pissed.

“What the hell, Kid! I said you were dismissed for the night! That man had vital information about the war front and–”

“And ye’re willin’ tae do what for it, exactly?” Kid roars as he turns to you, his cheeks nearly as red as his hair, but he doesn’t scare you. The only time he did was when you didn’t even know who he was. So you take a step forward, meeting his eyes with the same fire he’s pining you with.

“Whatever was necessary to save my people!”

Kid points at the bed, the veins in his neck protruding dangerously as he steps closer. “Lay with him? Whore yerself for information?”

A surge of heat rushes through you, and his words hit harder than you expected, but you still bite back with equal venom. “I would’ve done anything. My people matter more to me than my body or one measly night. I don’t care.”

“Ya should!” His broad figure towers over yours, and you sense him tense up, the lines on his face sharper, the intensity in his gaze darker.

You shove his chest, but he doesn’t budge an inch. “Well, I don’t! And I could’ve handled it alone.”

His laugh sends a waft of warm air against your hair, and you hiss. “Aye, aye! I believe ye! Like ye’ve handled it all the other times? Little Miss ‘I dinnae need help from anyone’!” He mocks.

The condescending tone makes your anger burn hotter, the air between you dense with tension, crackling with energy. You shove him again –to no effect. “I cannot let my people suffer through this war anymore!”

“What about ye?”

“I don’t matter, Kid!” Another shove. “They matter! The children, the elderly, the sick!” A stubborn tear falls from your eye and you shove him again. “I’m the only one they’ve got! I don’t give a damn about myself, I–” You shove him again but his hands gently catch yours, and you sob. You’re relieved he showed up. You would’ve done anything, but that doesn’t mean you wanted to do it.

“And ye think I give a damn about yer charity? Yer people?” His hand reaches up, pinching your chin between his thumb and forefinger, lifting your jaw so you have to meet his eyes. “Lass, I’d rather see the world burn down tae ashes and be ravaged by war, than let some bastard touch ye like that.”

His admission takes you both by surprise, but he quickly masks it with an angry scowl. Your heart, however, gives you no reprieve, pounding violently in your chest. You will yourself to throw back a witty retort, angry words, anything– but nothing comes out except awkward sputters as you struggle to shut your open mouth.

Kid’s words hang in the air between you like a storm cloud, charged and dangerous, leaving you unsure how to act. He lets go of your hand and chin and you step back, dowcasting your gaze and taking a deep breath, your anger subsiding as your voice loses the edge and intensity it had a minute ago.

“I don’t know what else to do, Kid. It’s my people, my responsibility.”

“It’s no’.” His voice is level again, still edged, but much less intense. “It’s yer da’s. He should be the one seekin’ aid and information, no’ ye. There’s always another way, and next time ye want tae get information,” Kid sighs heavily. “Dinnae do it alone.”

You swallow hard. There are no more tears, but the weight of his words hangs heavily on your chest. You can’t rely on your father for help. He doesn’t leave the keep, barely knows what’s happening around him, aside from the warfront. It was up to you. And… and now Kid… put an end to it.

“You ruined everything.” You whisper, not daring to meet his eyes because you’re being unfair. He saved you.

Again.

“Aye. I’d do it all over again.”

-*-

It’s a painful feeling, the one that lingers afterward. You know you care more for Kid than you should. It’s not just desire –but by the gods, there’s so much desire– it’s something far deeper, far more intense. His words resound in your head like a sickly echo.

“I’d rather see the world burn down tae ashes and be ravaged by war, than let some bastard touch ye like that.”

He cares too. There’s really no other explanation. But you don’t know what to do with it, so once again, you and Kid don’t talk about it.

He’s more and more adamant about not leaving you alone and, sometimes, it pisses you off so much that you sneak out, elude him, and trick him so you can just find some peace. He always finds you and you always end up arguing.

Today, though, you manage to buy yourself a decent amount of time by asking the children from the town to distract him, and before Kid even realises what happened, you’ve already given him the slip. There’s every chance he’ll find you soon, but for now, you will enjoy the coolness of the nearby loch. There’s a more well-known, wider area of the loch, where children usually play, but you know of another, smaller bay just a few metres away, and it's perfectly secluded and peaceful. Just what you need at the moment.

Peace.

Because there’s none of that when Kid is around. Not inner peace at least. There’s always a war raging inside you, willing you to push him to his limits, to defy him because you don’t need –nor want– his protection. Yet, the space between the two of you is always charged with raw energy and magnetism, like a storm cloud waiting to pour its deluge on both of you.

Unsurprisingly, now that he’s gone, you miss him.

Fuck me.

-*-

It takes Kid almost an hour to sniff out your trail, and he’s beyond pissed. He’s about to lay all his anger on you, almost wishing you’d gotten into trouble, just for you to realise that you need him and stop doing foolish shit.

The loch?

He approaches silently, always moving like a shadow before making his presence known, and by the gods, he made the right choice in doing that now, because you’re standing naked at the loch’s edge, preparing yourself for a cold dip.

Kid’s heart pounds violently against his chest as he watches you. His eyes devour your body, blood roaring with the desire he’s felt for you since you tried to punch him on that first night. But it’s on your face his gaze lingers unabashedly. You have a look of utter relaxation on your features, and he’s never seen you like this around him. Completely vulnerable, unguarded, and free.

He’s lived on edge since meeting you, constantly tense in your presence, alert to any and every danger that could take you away from him, and even when there’s no danger, there’s always something far more perilous. An unspoken tension between the two of you, anger and desire mingling into something he can’t quite place, but that keeps pulling you to him. It’s maddening.

Yet, what he’s feeling now goes way beyond anything he’s ever felt in your presence. It’s wilder, untamed, and desperate.

Gritting his teeth, Kid knows he can’t stand and watch you forever, but he’s not willing to let you be alone anyway, so he makes his presence known. “Enjoyin’ yerself, lass?”

-*-

You spin around in the water, facing Kid through wet lashes, but surprise is only etched on your face for a split second. You knew he’d find you.

“I was. Go away.”

“I cannae do that. It’s my job, ye know that.” He crosses his arms and leans against a tree near your discarded clothes. “Besides, yer a sittin’ duck right now. Have ye learned nothin’?”

You turn away from him again with a tut, dipping your head back to get your hair wet. “I don’t need protection, Kid. Leave. I want to be alone.”

“I’m never leavin’ ya alone again, lass. Better get that straight into yer noggin.” You can hear him snicker as you splash your hands against the cold water, trying to chase your frustration away. “Enjoy yer little dip, while it lasts. I’m no’ leavin’.”

“Gods, Kid! You’re infuriating! Leave. Me. Alone.” You accentuate every word with another splash, but that just makes him grin more.

“Ye dinnae have tae like me, but I thought ye’re used tae me by now.”

You stop thrashing, and he chuckles infuriatingly again. He thinks he’s won this round, but you’re about to serve vengeance on a cold platter. He doesn’t want to leave? Fine! But you’ll win this argument without uttering a single word.

You turn back to him, defiance splattered all over your face as you gaze into his fiery, cocky red eyes. Without so much as a blink, you strut to the shore, baring your naked body to him without a hint of shame.

You have to fight a victory smirk from gracing your lips when Kid pushes himself away from the tree, his arms falling limp at his sides as he follows you with his gaze.

-*-

You want to kill him. That’s the only explanation he finds for what you’re doing at the moment. Because if it’s vengeance, it’s quite petty. Kid has to fight the urge to reach into his breeches and adjust his cock, which gets hard just by looking at you. The way you’re staring into his soul while baring yourself to him, water dripping over your body, your perky nipples shimmering and slick with water, walking with long, unapologetic strides. It’s too much.

Fuck.

He’s fought all kinds of men and beasts and never once did it occur to him to surrender. But to you, he’d fall on his knees and beg, and that is the scariest thought he’s had in a while. Kid clears his throat as you approach him, your chin raised in that regal way about you that he both loathes and admires.

“What are ye doin’?” He barely recognizes his own trembling voice. It’s like he’s a boy again, pissing himself while facing an enemy on the battlefield.

“I told you I don’t need protection.” You take another step, and it takes all of his willpower not to thread his fingers through your dripping wet hair, grip it and pull it back until your throat is vulnerable, and then crash his lips against yours. Kid bets you’d taste delicious.

“Aye.” Not his smartest answer. Not even an answer, really, and you must know you have the advantage because the smirk that curves your lips is both infuriating and endearing. Then you move closer, almost as if you’re going to whisper something to him, and as all the blood rushes to his cock and his heart thrums in his ears, all Kid can think about is how your soft skin would feel against his rough and calloused hands, or how your moans would sound whispered against his ear.

He holds his breath and you lean in. Your perky nipple grazes his arm and burns like the hottest of fires, undoubtedly etching and scorching a mark on his skin, something that digs deeper than his ugliest scars. It’s like the moment freezes in time, the air shifting into something heavier and more dangerous. His fingers itch to touch you and his hands almost move of their own volition to fulfil a desire fueled by his loins. Then you break the moment by bending and grabbing the clothes next to his feet, pulling the dress over your head and batting your lashes at him innocently.

“Problem?”

His jaw clenches and unclenches three times before he deems it safe to speak. “Stop playin’ with fire, lass.”

Your smirk grows wider as you slowly pass your arms through the sleeves, bouncing your breasts and revelling in the way Kid’s eyes wander and linger. “Maybe I like to get burned.”

-*-

Shit. Where did that come from? Other than the bottomless pit of desire currently fueling your loins?

He takes a step back, raking his fingers through his hair as his hand reaches for the front of his breeches, making you bite your lower lip in anticipation. But instead of unfastening them and slamming his cock into your dripping self, he shuts his eyes and curses. “We’re leavin’. Get dressed.”

Turning to leave, he doesn’t even give you a chance to reply as he walks towards the edge of the forest, stopping and waiting for you with his back turned. You take deep, steadying breaths and will your heart to calm down, lest it jump right out of your mouth.

Does it still count as a victory if you feel like shit from being rejected?

-*-

This party had been planned for a year, back when the war had just started and the vaults were still full. Now, in your opinion, it was a waste of money, food, and time. But your father was adamant about hosting it, as it was meant to serve as a courtship of the lairds and their sons to you.

You had to choose a husband –a strategic alliance– so your father could secure more money and soldiers for the war effort. You knew where your father could shove the potential suitors, but you couldn’t find a way to get out of the party, so here you were, enduring yet another speech about the feats and achievements of another stuck-up man.

You wore crimson tonight. A dark, deep, lavish red gown that matched the intensity of your rage towards this event. A red that coincidentally matched the fiery hair of your guard.

Speaking of Kid, you had yet to lay eyes on him, but you knew he wasn’t far. Your father had given him the day off, but he had stayed true to his infuriating declaration of never leaving you alone again, even when he was blatantly dismissed. So, you were sure he was, or would be, around. The only time he was away from you was when you slept.

You manage to fight yet another urge to roll your eyes as another man approaches you out of nowhere, invading your personal space with what they all believe are charming words. Every one of them makes you want to gag.

“My lady, you look as beautiful as the loch outside.”

Now you can’t stop the eye roll, even if you wanted to. “Truly? Cold, stinking of fish, and green?” The man stammers, a hint of red spreading across his pale cheeks, and you sigh. “Excuse me, I’m needed… elsewhere.”

Anywhere else.

Two more steps, one more drink, and another idiot. “My lady, the skies must have lost a star, for your beauty is far too radiant for mere mortals.”

You raise your brow as the corner of your lips threatens to curve up. “Is that so, my lord? Are you implying that I’m the reason the sky looks so dim tonight?” This man stammers just like the one before and a chuckle escapes your lips before you excuse yourself and turn away, leaving him flabbergasted.

Gods, you just want this torture to end.

“Are you not tired of these fools, my lady? Perhaps a reprieve would do you good?”

Another one already? Is it too much to ask for a moment of peace?

“A reprieve? Are you offering sanctuary in my own home, my lord?” You look him in the eyes as the corner of your lips rises. He’s quite handsome: dark hair, tanned skin and a beautiful smile.

“I was merely suggesting an escape plan, away from all the lochs and stars.” You chuckle, and he seems encouraged to continue. “I assure you, my company comes without any celestial expectations.”

“Aye, I see that. Does it come with that charming wit, or was it a one-time event?” He offers his arm, and you take it, actually impressed by him.

“For your company, my lady? I will gladly put forth my best efforts.”

-*-

You didn’t even realise he was at the party, Kid is sure of it. He’s keeping to the fringes, a mug of ale in his hand, as his sharp eyes follow you everywhere. Just because your father gave him the night off doesn’t mean he’ll skip his duties. Especially when you’re his duty.

He’s been spending all of his time growling into the mug, clenching it so tightly he’s bound to break it before the night ends. These fools keep approaching you with their charming words and honeyed speeches.

He has to admit, though, you’re handling everything quite well, and he’s found himself rather entertained by the look on the face of each suitor you reject. Deep down, he’s hoping that he’s the reason you keep rejecting them, but he quickly dismisses that thought.

Especially because his entertainment suddenly turns sour.

A posh-looking laird approaches you –again with sweet and charming words, things Kid would never say to you– and you have the gall to laugh. To actually laugh at what the bastard said. And then you take his arm as he leads you to a more secluded part of the ballroom so you can speak.

The distinct burn of jealousy courses through Kid’s veins, and he doesn’t quite know what to do about it. It’s not his place to go over there and demand–... what? That the man leave you alone? He’s not even doing anything wrong, he’s just talking to you.

And you’re laughing again. Fuck.

He grips the mug tighter, the ale suddenly much more bitter than it should be. He needs to keep his shit together, though. You’re a noble lady, you’re going to marry, and he won’t have any say in it. Better to keep distancing himself like he was trying to do. Even if it kills him.

-*-

You excuse yourself from the laird’s company after a while. Sure, he’s handsome, witty, a sweet talker, and has the right kind of armies. But he’s not… it.

With a loud sigh, you reach for another mug of ale, willing the night to end quickly so you can tell your father it was a complete and utter disaster. Will he still force you to choose a husband, though? Or will he simply force one on you? That is the real question.

But your thoughts are soon diverted when you feel a prickling at the back of your neck, that tingling, warm sensation you’ve come to associate with Kid.

“I knew you couldn’t stay away long. Free ale and pretty ladies?” You smirk smugly as you turn around to meet the slightly disgruntled gaze of your guard. “I don’t know how you haven’t come down sooner.”

“Lass, I’ve been on yer tail since ye left yer room.” He snickers, but you can see it’s forced. “Havin’ fun?” The way he crosses his arms seems charged with tension, he’s angry at something.

“So much fun, Kid. Something you’re unfamiliar with, I guess. It’s when people laugh because they’re entertained. You know,” you reach and lift his cheeks upwards so his lips curve into a grimaced smile. “Kind of like that, but less scary and… constipated.”

“I laugh.” He grumbles, swatting your hands away.

“Do you?”

“When yer not pissin’ me off.”

Now you laugh. “Right, never then!” You’ve seen him amused, with that annoying smirk he uses and the way his eyes crease a little bit. But you haven’t heard a real, genuine laugh. “I doubt you’re even capable of such a thing.”

You both saunter into a corner of the room, where Kid leans against the wall and you sway on your feet, tired of sitting down.

“Maybe I dinnae have reasons tae smile.” Cryptic much? What’s he talking about? His scowl deepens as he locks eyes with someone and you follow. It’s the laird from before, the charming one. Is Kid jealous? “So, is he the chosen one?”

He is jealous.

“Maybe. He’s charming enough and knows the right things to say.”

“Never thought ya needed tae be sweet-talked.” He crosses his arms and averts his gaze from the laird with a scowl but doesn’t look back at you.

“Sometimes it’s nice to feel wanted.” You tease, but you mean it.

“Wanted? By him?” He pushes away from the wall, indignation written on his face, his intense energy turning the air around you heavier, stifling, and making your heart pound violently with anticipation.

“At least somebody wants me. That might be enough to make me want to marry him.”

“Ye cannae do that.” He growls, taking a towering step towards you and suddenly you don’t know if you should feel aroused by his behaviour or angered that he thinks he has a say in your life.

“I do whatever the hell I want, Kid. You don’t tell me what to do.” You step towards him too, the party fading into the background as if you’re the only people there. The space between you seems small and cramped, tight with tension and need. “You don’t own me.”

The hot puffs of breath coming in ragged feel warm against your face, and you can see just how sharp his canines are as he bares his teeth at you. He’s all growls and grunts, a litany of sounds that vibrate straight into your cunt. Fuck. You need him.

The clenching of his hand is a dead giveaway to how much he wants to touch you, but you can tell he’s holding back. You can count the passing of time by the way his jaw ticks, and the fire in his eyes burns straight into your soul. “Yer mine, lass.”

The words make you gasp, and he’s also startled by them as you both take a step back. The tension flutters and fades, and the noise from the party resumes all around you. What did he say?

“Tae protect. Mine tae protect.” He adds quickly, his voice hoarse as he averts his eyes.

The seconds stretch as you’re left speechless. You can see a war being waged somewhere deep inside him, there’s a fury in his eyes with an intensity that speaks volumes and only adds stiffness to his bulky frame.

“Aye.” You say, voice strained and a sarcastic quip at the tip of your tongue. “Just to protect. Got it.”

Kid grunts, his eyes searching yours again. “I’m yer guard.”

“I know.”

“That’s all.”

“I know.”

“It cannae be more.”

“I know!” You raise your voice as you turn your back on him, dropping the mug on the nearest table and storming out of the room, but not before adding with as much authority as you can muster. “Do not dare follow me!”

-*-

Where the hell did you go? Kid’s heart races in his chest as he turns left and right. You disappeared on him after he blurted out the stupidest shit he’d ever said in his life ��even if it was true. You were just there, and then… you weren’t.

Fuck.

He knows well enough that these big parties are the playground of assassins, and your father is a man many people want dead at the moment. For lack of that option, since he’s well-guarded, taking you is the next juicy prize. And now you’re nowhere to be seen. Or protected.

When Kid finds you, he’ll choke you with his bare hands for this stupid stunt.

He scans the gardens since you’re not inside the party, and he feels a mix of relief, anger, and indignation when he sees you at the edge of the forest near the gate. He’s definitely going to kill you if you’re sneaking outside for a midnight encounter with that prick.

Wedding match be damned to hell.

-*-

You just had to leave and get some air. It wasn’t even just the argument you had with Kid, or the sudden realisation that you and he were miles apart, even when you were so close. It was the stuffy ballroom, those insufferable suitors, the loudness of the music, and the expectations on you. It was all too much. You thought about retiring to your room, but there were sure to be guards on the stairs, and you doubted your father would let you leave so early. So you moved to the grounds where it was quiet.

You just want peace. Is it too much to ask for?

“Here you are, my lady. I’ve found you. And look, all alone, the possibilities are endless for our night.” You sigh at the lecherous suitor who followed you –the one who spewed the loch remark. You must have hurt his feelings, because he looks ready to snap your neck, or worse.

Is it wrong that you don’t fear him? Or that you don’t even feel the need to reach for your hidden daggers? You don’t quite know when this happened, but as insufferable as he is, you trust Kid fully, wholeheartedly, and you know, you just know, he’ll never fail you.

“Get the fuck away from her before I make ye piss yer pants, bastard.”

A smirk curves your lips upwards. You knew it. He’s always there. The man leaves with a shriek, and you face Kid, not really in the mood for more bickering, but of course, that’s all he wants to do.

“The hell were ye thinkin’, lass, leavin’ the party all alone and–” You don’t even let him finish the sentence. Fuck bickering, fuck fighting, fuck it all. Your fingers grasp his shirt as you pull him down towards you with all the strength you possess, lips crashing against each other with urgency and desire.

It took an entire evening of wrongs –wrong men, wrong words, wrong faces, wrong accent– just to make you realise that the right one was beside you all the time.

The kiss is unbridled, hungry, and desperate. A clash of not just tongues and lips, but of wills and stubbornness. It’s the culmination of all the little arguments, of all the bickering and of all the tension that enveloped both of you since you met.

You pull him closer, hands climbing his neck and tugging at his fiery hair. He’s so rigid that it’s as if he went into shock when you kissed him. The only thing that proves it wrong is the way he’s devouring your mouth. And then, with a soft thud as he releases his axe to the floor, he moves – desperately!

Kid’s hands grip your hips, and he pushes you against a tree, forcing the air out of your lungs with a wanton moan. His body presses against yours, clinging to you as if you’re about to run away from him again. It’s like he needs you with all his soul, and he’s showing you exactly that.

His kiss is, at the same time, everything you’ve imagined –consuming, heated, furious– and nothing like it. It sends lightning coursing through your veins, igniting them with pent-up energy that demands release. Kid’s hands roam, climbing up your body and cupping your face, deepening the kiss even more, making you feel as if you are drowning in him.

You’ve never been kissed like this before, as if you’re the only thing that matters and he’s afraid to let go. It’s daunting, but also comforting.

Kid pulls back after what feels like too little time, pressing his forehead against yours, his hands still cupping your cheeks as your panting breaths mingle, and you lose yourself in his fiery gaze.

“Ye drive me insane, lass. Ye’ll be the death of me.”

“I could say the same of you.” He doesn’t let you go and neither do you. Your hands press against his chest, nimble fingers untying the strings of his shirt as he smirks at you.

“Needy, are ya, lass?”

He’s not wrong.

“I am. Kiss me again.” And he obeys you. For once since he’s been stationed as your guard, he obeys you. His lips even more urgent than before, his hands groping and feeling every inch of you as you slither your fingers under his clothes, tracing his taut muscles and the roughness of his scars.

“Fuck, ye want me dead. That’s what this is.” But he doesn’t stop. He bites your lower lip and kisses your jawline, moving lower to your neck, his teeth grazing against the sensitive spot there. His mouth parts as he murmurs more words against your skin in his low, rough Scottish brogue that makes you weak in the knees.

You grip his hair, pulling him closer as your head falls back in abandon, and a soft moan escapes your lips when he sucks particularly harshly against the hollow of your throat.

“Do that again.” His tongue licks from your neck up to your ear, and the involuntary whimper leaves your lips again. “Fuck.” Raising his hands, he pulls the neckline of your dress down, baring you to him as he keeps muttering low, a litany of words you can’t make sense of and could very well be prayers or curses. Then he cups your breast, his thumb grazing against your nipple as you arch into his touch, seeking his touch, begging for more.

“More.” You whisper as he leans to roll your nipple against his teeth, making you shiver, a combination of hot and cold, pain and pleasure, that leaves you breathless and dizzy. “More, Kid.” Your fingers dig into his shoulders, and your nails bite into his skin in a desperate attempt to have more of him, like you’re requesting.

“Gods, lass. Tell me ye want this.” He groans, his hands already tugging at your skirts, lifting them up. “Tell me ye want me.”

“Aye, Kid, aye! I want you.” Your words are a mere whisper. They’re as hot and desperate as you feel. You need him now.

It’s all the confirmation he needs because, in the next moment, your skirts are pulled all the way up against your hips, and his rough, big fingers find you wet and wanting, ready for his touch. He parts your lips, inserting one finger with a low, hot groan against your ear, and you arch your body to his touch, a small gasp of pleasure cutting through the silent night. “So tight for me, lass.”

He inserts another finger into your slit and then slides them in and out with slow, languid strokes as you cry out his name. You’ve wanted to feel him touch you for so long, but, somehow, you never imagined it would feel this amazing. “Mine.” He bites into your throat as you arch your head, riding his fingers and feeling heat pooling in your belly. “All mine.”

You can’t even argue with him, all your brattiness and fight lost at the tips of his fingers.

“Gods, Kid, please!” Your head falls forward as you pant into his ear. His fingers feel amazing, but you need more, so much more. “Please!”

Kid uses his weak arm to free his pants and take out his cock, pumping it twice and groaning as he keeps fingering you, his thumb pressing against your clit and sending wave after wave of heat down your legs.

When he removes his fingers, you whine softly, but as his hands grip your thighs and he lifts you up as if you weighed nothing, you gaze into his eyes in anticipation. “Lass–”

“Yours.” It’s all you say before he even asks if you’re sure about this. His eyes darken, and he thrusts forward, inserting himself inside you, stretching you, filling you up completely to the point where you don’t even know how you’ve gone all these years without him to make you whole.

A loud cry of his name leaves your lips as he bottoms out and stands still, waiting for you to accommodate his size. His lips brush against your neck as he feels the way your pulse flutters against his tongue and your cunt throbs around his sheathed cock.

“Easy, lass. Breathe for me, aye?” As you relax in his grip, he pulls back, only to thrust harder, making you cry again. You’re right at the edge, feeling your legs tingling, your coil ready to snap and send you into bliss. “All mine.” He keeps repeating, maybe trying to prove it to you, to stake his claim, but he’s right. You’re his, all his. And you never want to be anyone else’s.

He thrusts harder again, hitting you just right, and you lose yourself in his hold, bare back scraping against the harsh bark of the tree as you cry your release into the night in the form of his name and broken moans. “Fuck, ye feel so good, lass. So good. Scream my name again!” He says, and you’re pretty sure you’re going to do it sooner than you thought, because the warm waves of pleasure are still making you shiver and tingle, and you’re already feeling the build-up of another wave ready to crash over you.

Kid never stops.

“Again, aye? One more?” You nod, your breaths increasing as his thrusts become faster, sloppier and needier.

“Gods, Kid, just like that, I’m–”

“Aye, lass, let it out for me.” He grunts against the curve of your neck as he steadies his arm against your back to hold you with his strong arm, using the other hand to circle and pinch your clit.

Another cry leaves you, the intensity of the bliss much greater than the one before, as your mewls and moans sing into the night. Kid follows you over the abyss right after with a few sloppy thrusts, and you’re both left heaving harsh breaths, tangled in sweaty limbs and bliss.

Why the fuck didn’t you do this sooner?

Tag list: @rosidaze @beachaddict48 @armiliadawn @jintaka-hane @sprinkklz @baby5555 @hopelesslover06 @mars-mizuko @sleepykittycx @nerium-lil @eustasscapitankid @ren-ni @jqperi @lycoriskalmia @takamimami

|Part 3|

#one piece #one piece x reader #x reader #kid x reader #reader insert #highlander kid #you x eustass kid #eustass kid x reader #eustass captain kidd #eustass x reader #eustass kid #you x kid #reader x kid #kid x you #Spotify

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deathbxnny · 10 months ago

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Alright! Here it is!

Can i request the Hashiras (Kyojuro, Giyuu, and Sanemi) reacting to their s/o reader giving him a lock of their hair to him? Historically, giving a lock of one's hair to someone has been considered a sign of love and devotion, especially before an impending parting. So what if the reader is giving their lock of hair bc they know their lover will be on a particular long mission.

I hope this is a good request to start of your return. Also yeah, i’ve been doing well! Although i cant lie im not worried on some stuff (Chainsaw man’s new chapters worries me, also did you know that Reze’s arc will get a movie and idk if im ready for the heartbreak T.T)

But regardless of that, hope you have a good day/night though!

- Flower Anon 🌸

Hello there, Flower Anon! Thank you for your cute request, I love it so much! And yeah, I'm getting very worried over Dennis myself and have heard about the movie. I'm actually a manga only reader for CSM and will probably not watch it, because the heartbreak was bad the first time, but it's cool to hear about! Also, I'm glad you're doing well otherwise and hope you'll like this!<33

Content: Small angst, fluff, Reader is not a demon slayer, established relationship, sfw

Reader has no mentioned pronouns!

((Not fully proofread))

☆Rengoku Kyojuro☆

Kyojuro, despite his passion for his work, hated leaving you behind for longer missions. He knew it hurted you more than any wound could ever hurt him and yet, the call of a crow meant his next departure was near. He tried dragging it out for as long as he could, showering you in affection and making sure you're well taken care of whilst he's gone. But eventually, you two found yourself standing at the estate's gates together once more.

He frowned at your teary gaze, when you suddenly held out something to him. "Oh!" He blinked, noting with ease that it was a lock of your hair, wrapped in a red ribbon. He chuckled, as he grabbed it carefully and made sure you saw the way he pinned it to the inside of his haori, right over his heart. He felt an even stronger fire burn through him, his heart full and heavy with his love for you. It was the first time, he ever considered abandoning his duties just to stay with you for a while longer.

But the impatient call of a crow made him refrain only barely and sigh. He put on a wide smile, a kiss pressed to your lips, before he finally turned and began leaving. He waved to you, the sun setting and making his bright eyes shine for you.

"Thank you for this beautiful gift, my love! I'm bound to come home even faster now, with you even close to my heart!"

☆Tomioka Giyuu☆

Giyuu sighed to himself in defeat, when the crow told him about his next mission. He didn't want to leave the peace he had for the last three weeks with you. But duty calls, despite him wishing it would just stop already. He moved slowly, his hands calmly fastening his Nichirin swords to his waist, dark blue eyes meeting your solemn and sad one's. He knew, that you didn't want him to leave either.

You got closer to him then, your hands replacing his, as you began helping him. It's what you often did before his departures, a way of spending time with him for one last time, just in case it took longer than it should. It was a grim reality you two didn't like facing, but reality kept you from getting too far away.

Giyuu's eyes widened ever so slightly when you suddenly tied a small charm to one of his swords. But on further inspection, he realised that a lock of your hair was attached to it. He looked up at you, but you didn't meet his gaze, perhaps out of fear of crying the moment you did.

His hand grasped yours once you were done, his lips pressing against them in a silent thank you. His heart warmed at your gesture, despite him not fully showing it. There was hesitation in the way he let go of you afterwards, but the soft words he spoke, before departing at last, said enough, even if not alot.

"I'll return to you."

☆Shinazugawa Sanemi☆

Sanemi was in a frustrated hurry to get ready, his hands quick to grab all necessary gear and clothing items for his immideate need to leave. There was an emergency mission in a far away village and he had to be there, much to his secret dismay. He had just come back from a longer mission two weeks ago and now he's forced to leave you again? He hated it, you ofcourse did as well, despite never voicing it.

He hissed out a string of curses, when he couldn't find his Haori, until you suddenly appeared next to him with it in hand. He gave you a thankful nod, as you helped him put it on, but also slipped something into his hand, whilst he finally left in a hurry, which he shoved into his pocket quickly. Thankfully he was able to steal a kiss on his way out, secretly noting to spoil you once back ofcourse.

He only looked at what you gave him, when he finally had the time to take a break. His hand reached into his Haori, humming in confusion at the sight of a silver locket. Carefully opening it, he froze when he saw a lock of your hair. Scarred fingers carefully reached to brush against it, before he sighed and shook his head.

He missed you.

Getting up, he felt restless and frustrated again, as he gathered up his things once more. He needed to get this mission over with. He can take a break, once he's in your arms again. Pushing the locket back into his pocket, he continued on his way, motivated for his need for you.

"I'm going to personally send that damned demon back to hell for you, I swear it..."

Thank you again for the great request, Flower Anon! I absolutely loved writing this and hope you enjoyed it too!<33

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irazai · 1 year ago

Text

. . . (🍷) ֶָ֢ 𔓘 PLEASE STRIP ME! ; a fyodor dostoyevsky fic. ❞

˗ˏˋ ꒰ 🍷 ꒱ . . . till date this fic remains one of my favs. fyodor is so hot ugh.

˗ˏˋ ꒰ 🍷 ꒱ . . . tw ; sugar daddy!fyodor, sugar baby!reader, fem!reader nsfw, angst in the beginning, confessions, hurt to comfort ig, riding, nipple pinching and sucking, fyodor refers to himself as "daddy", uses of term "dumb doll", fyodor is hot, and that's all ig.

the twilight sky outside analyzed the situation and told the stars about it who twinkled in amusement, all of them finding pleasure in your misery, like the man you gave your heart to.

you glance at the clock on the wall and then huff, turning away from its direction as if the clock was the one behind your emotional state, as if it were the clock who played with your heartstrings as if your heart was an instrument.

it's nearly one in the night and you are still sitting on the luxurious bed with your back against the headboard, reminiscing about the first time you sat on this very bed and felt the same feeling of being an outcast, as if you are a foreign to this luxury -- which you are.

your hands gripped your silk night gown which reached till your midthighs, a very revealing and loose one at that. you bit your lip to produce pain which had the ability to divert your attention away from the aching in your heart.

alas, it worked but in ways you didn't expect. for the physical pain of harshly biting down on your bottom lip was the cheery on top needed by your brain to stimulate a signal which made the dams in your eyes open up, moistoning your eyes and blurring your vision.

at the same moment, the man behind this reaction tried to slowly open the door without making any noise but once he saw the lamp lights on beside the nightstand near the bed, he raised his eyebrows.

fyodor didn't expect you to be awake at this hour and he made sure you knew about this by the way he continued to look at you even while closing the door and walking towards you.

a heart heavier then your brain which is littered with opposing thoughts, you sit straight and look at fyodor, taking a deep breath for the oxygen will be knocked out of you very soon by your own heart.

"what is wrong? can't sleep? is the dress not to your liking?" voiced the man whose cold voice could put even snowy lands to shame, a man who held too much interest in his eyes but too little in his tone for fyodor dostoyevsky is an enigma. even to you who had been with him for more than a year now.

you do not answer, no, you can not. your eyes frantically scan over his features, those soft lips which you can kiss only in your dreams, that pale skin which makes you wonder just how good would it look with love bites, the sharp jaw you want to cup and kiss and lastly, those damned eyes.

the rich dark purple which shines brightly despite those tired looking eyes can captivate you, play you like a doll and you won't even realise for the one who admires the castle won't see the blood, sweat and tears of those who made it.

you gulp, your heart beat being the only sound you heard for a minute or two before you shook your head. ". . .i wanted . . . to talk to you."

why is your voice such a contrast to his? his confident voice puts your quiet and nervous one to shame.

fyodor hums, stepping towards his side of the bed as he lays down with a sigh and after mentally pushing yourself with the reminder that it's either now or never ; you swiftly move to be on top of fyodor, your knees planted on the soft mattress on either sides of his waist as you look down at him with sorrowful eyes.

"aren't i attractive to you? or am i not your type?" murmuring the harsh words which have been piercing your mind ever since you realised you fell for the very man who never kissed you, who made it clear that your presence was something he could buy and he did.

"generally having a sugar daddy and sugar baby relationship means a mutual benefit. sex or sexual favors in exchange of money. of course it varies with different people but . . . paying me only to have my company . . . don't you ever wish to have some more?" your voice -- is it doing justice to convey all your pent up emotions and feelings? you wonder.

now, fyodor is a man of rationality and cold logic but even he is a human.

how can you not see the way he is gulping thickly, able to outline and picture your cunt as the flimsy lingere nightgown is doing its purpose of letting his imagination run loose. the way you are leaning down to be closer to him caused one of the thin straps of the nightgown to fall off your shoulders and near your elbow, allowing fyodor a glimpse of just a small portion of your cleavage.

how can fyodor focus on your words when your lips look so pouty and eyes so moistened? lord, oh lord, you answered his prayers, didn't you?

oh dear lord, is this angel on top of him his to corrupt?

"tell me, why won't you touch me? let me fulfill my duty as a sugarbaby. let me satisfy you sometimes fyodor." you softly let out, staring at him and fyodor, oh fyodor, what are you doing?

why are you pulling on the angel's other strap and letting it fall down her elbow? do you not know your patience and self control is running thin?

you can't do it. you aren't fyodor to conceal your emotions and feelings deep within the chambers of your mind.

so you allow a sob to travel through your throat, allowing it the freedom to be freed and let fyodor hear it, you let him hear your misery.

"you always do this. these actions of yours make me feel as if you desire me too . . . only for you to shut me out by acting cold and distant again." your voice is strained, cracking even as your vocal chord is being choked by the nimble hands of sadness.

"am i some kind of a doll to you? who you can play with as much as you want?" your words don't seem to have any effect on the russian below you whose expressions haven't changed a bit.

it's always this cold and calm look of his which you hate but oh, how you love it too.

and fyodor noticed it. he always does. the way the corner of your eyes soften as your eyes go all doe like whenever you admire his features but he doesn't like how that softness is always shielded by a sheet of longing and sadness.

"if you were to tell me to dance on fire for you, i would gladly become one with the fire for its not the fire which burns me but your coldness, fyodor." you confess, biting your bottom lip in a fragile attempt to stop or hide their quivering but this action of your's, the furrowed eyebrows and the slightly red eyes of your's makes you look all the more appealing to fyodor.

"have i done something to make you feel like so? don't cry. didn't i tell you? your presence brings me joy, your opinions and perspectives are intresting enough for me to spend enough to have you by my side. why? are you not satisfied? do you want more? tell me what you want and it's your's, you know there is no limit to what i've to offer to you." the cold and calm tone accompanied with the russain accent is a voice you hear daily yet still can't get enough of.

you shake your head. no, he can't offer you what you desire.

"i don't want your wealth anymore. i want your love and that's the only thing you can't offer." you weakly mutter and close your eyes, waterfalls of heartbreak wetting your cheeks for even you know that your desire is a painful lie you live in and hope to achieve.

fyodor feels the tightening of his pants and the slight hardening of his cock at your soft sniffles, god, how vile is he to get turned on by your sniffles of sorrow?

"sweet doll, do you think my affection for you is fake? . . . is that what you think? are you getting bored of me? do you want to leave?" fyodor asks, his voice a bit sad, looking at you whose eyes are still closed and hearing his words make you cry even more as you now don't feel shy or hide your sobs, letting them out in the open for fyodor to hear for maybe then, he could understand your feelings.

these simple words are not your breaking point. the sadness lingering in his tone is. the subtle frown which you are sure is adorning his mouth is. those affectionate touches and him being more touchy with you since the past two months only to distance himself from you before things could escalate further is.

the way his hands immediately cling onto your hips as they squeeze your hips tightly but in a comforting manner is.

"i love you! i love you! why are you so smart yet stupid to realise this!? i don't want to be a dumb sugar baby who is happy with a little bit of attention! that won't work for me! i need all of your attention, all of you! fyodor i need you! i need your love, i want your love!" you sob loudly and oh, oh.

not only did you reach your breaking point tonight, fyodor did too.

his grip on your hips tightened and his eyes went a bit dark, more sharper.

"stop testing my patience dumb doll." was a sentence which was enough to make you straighten up and behave yourself, but not tonight. oh definitely not tonight.

tonight you will pour your heart out to him and wait for his judgment.

"i try so hard to make you notice me, to seduce you yet none of them work . . . am I that unattractive? or are you in love with someone else? are you even capable of loving fyodor? capable of loving me?" you stare down at him, eyes sad and lips parted to let quick and short breaths escape along with occasional sobs.

the tears stopped coming long ago as the anguish converted into a cold calmness of sadness and the ones which flowed down your cheek began to dry up but left their trail there for fyodor to see.

this was it. the final push fyodor needed for him to pour out his feelings, his emotions and his pent up desires.

fyodor scoffs in amusement and only tightens his grip on your hips more, enough to leave a bruise and tight enough to immobilize you.

"dumb doll, how can you say all that when you don't even know the thoughts in my head everytime i see you? do you know what i think everytime i make you wear these sexy nightgowns?" fyodor's voice is low and seductive yet it has that soft edge to it and you purse your lips in embarrassment as you feel the wet pool in your core and you know fyodor felt it too or he wouldn't have smirked the way he did, so arrogantly yet arrogance looks good on him, sexy if you may add.

hands of temptation belongs to fyodor as he lets his hands run up and down your curves.

"not treat you like a doll? nonsense. you are my doll, how can i not treat you like one? so fragile and magnificent, all for me." the last part wasn't a hope or wish but a statement. fyodor wasn't asking you to be his, he already made you his when he first paid you for spending time with him.

"do you even know what i think every time i look at you, especially when you look so preety when you are sad?" the smooth voice holding onto the calm and collected tone which made it clear to the receiver that fyodor isn't just any human but a part of the rare percentage who are unbelievably majestic, lured you in, you wondered often if he is a siren.

you shook your head as a no, sniffling occasionally as fyodor's hand went lower towards the hem of your nightgown, he played with it as he said,

"i wish," he muttered, looking at your lips before he looked up at your eyes again, lifting the hem of your nightgown.

"to strip you of your clothes and feel your body . . . with your soft, smooth skin . . ."

you part your lips as you let out a soft gasp, feeling fyodor's cold fingers trail the flesh of your ass before he gripped one of your buttocks and he squeezed it roughtly between his cold fingers as if to show you how your last claim of heartbreak angered him.

hearing your gasp, fyodor smiles seductively, and eyes you, admiring the cut of the dress which was loose enough to give him a glimpse of your cleavage, the way your hair fell all over your face and the way you were basically straddling him which resulted in your nightgown to ride up.

"you say all this but your actions proved otherwise" you furrow your eyebrows as you mutter and the man beneath you just continues to eye you in a more intense, vulgar way.

“to touch you . . . in the most intimate places, but how can i? you know i am a man whose morals and beliefs shape him. so how can i think about you in such a way which contrasts my beliefs?” did he ask you? you weren't sure, your focus was on his hand which went towards your hip and grabbed it.

you part your lips, letting out a shaky breath as fyodor's fingers dig into your skin to grip it while his thumb applies slight pleasure to your hip, it feels as if he is trying to memorize the way your skin feels against him.

“how can i ignore my desires any longer? my desires to kiss you . . .” fyodor's eyes move up and down your body in a perfect coordination with his hands which grab your shoulders, kneading onto them as he then trails his hands down your arms and towards your wrists.

not only is your breath a bit frantic but so is his.

angel, oh angel, is this not enough for you to open your eyes and let go of that foreskaen purity?

oh let the drug who is injected into your veins, begin it works.

you took the drug yourself. the drug named fyodor dostoyevsky.

“and to taste your sweetness.” fyodor tugs on your wrist making you lean near him more.

"my beliefs and morals are what shaped me but you are what makes me feel human. my desires towards you knows no limit so don't ever try to question my emotions and feelings towards you. or i'll make another use of that preety mouth of your's." he whispers that last sentence.

broken. the thread of fyodor's self resistance and control broke.

fyodor pushes your head towards him, pressing his lips against your's as he begins to kiss you, he had always known his feelings would be reciprocated but it sure did feel good to have your lips move against his.

dancing in sin, the music is provided by the short and hot breaths you two share, you could feel your core throb as you placed one of your hands on the bed to stabilize yourself and the other on fyodor's cheek, caressing the skin you dreamt of littering in your marks and kisses.

like a snake, fyodor's hands slithered towards your back to push it to have you more closer towards him.

after a long while, you pull back to catch your breath, looking at fyodor as you parted your lips to speak but how can he just hear words leaving those wet and slightly swollen lips?

oh no. absolutely not.

fyodor pushed himself up slightly to capture your lips in a heated kiss again, elbow propped against the bed while with the other hand, he brushed your hair to the side.

you closed your eyes just like the russain beneath you, trying to appreciate every single movement made by his lips, his tongue swiping against your bottom lip before it entered your mouth and his occasional biting down on your bottom lip.

when he pulls back again to let both of you recover from the lack of oxygen, fyodor chuckles breathlessly.

"fuck it." he mutters a curse before changing your positions, making you lay on your back as his lips cling onto your's yours in a desperate manner, clinging onto you like how a water droplet clings onto the edge of a leaf, wet sounds produced due to the kisses shared between you two were the epitome of just how sinful the night will get from here on.

fyodor is desperate.

more.

more and more.

oh lord, he knew once he started, he won't be able to stop and look, now he is tainting this angel of your's.

what will you do now when he is not letting the angel breath, continuously kissing her, one after the another -- you will do nothing, whatever needs to be done will be decided by the god under whose mercy the angel's heart is.

your heart beating is frantic but not more then the arousal which is aggressively coursing through your veins, you try to clench your legs to stop the slick from dripping on your panties but fyodor's hand on your inner thigh had forced you to keep your leg open.

fyodor leaned down to plant soft kisses on your lips, chin and jaw, trailing the wet kisses as to crave a path of his love.

"i will only ask once for my patience is thin right now, so tell me, sweet doll, tell me if you want this," fyodor leans up to capture your lips in a quick kiss again, "because once i have my way, i'll never let you leave me." he whispers, eyes trailing up to stare at your face and can you really say no to those purple eyes which were hypnotic enough to make your breathing stop midway.

"you are sounding like a big talker right now--" your words were cut short by the gasp which left your lips when fyodor's hand which was on your inner thigh had trailed up to press his thumb against your wet core.

"big talker? i'll show you that i don't speak empty words, dumb doll." fyodor smirks, the silence of the night didn't find it offending how his voice cut through the calm and hot atmosphere and rather they found it just as soothing as you, the russian could almost be passed as a god with the way the moonlight falling from the opened windows reflected his pale skin and dark irises, and oh, you closed your eyes as you exhaled shakily.

"please . . . please strip me. fuck me. i made myself clear too, no? i want you, your touch, your lips all over me. hah . . . you are no saint, you are the devil. stop fucking with these morals and just fuck me fyodor!" you beg, voice proving your desperation and neediness to have the russian all over you, to make your dreams which you hide in the darkest depths of your heart a reality.

fyodor began to rub his thumb over your wet core, rubbing against the sensitive bud with nothing but your panties to restrict the pleasure he created.

and is he really the god of your heart if he doesn't listen to your prayers?

"then let me show you just how much i desire you and once i am done, you'll be chanting my name like a prayer and when i repeat this all tomorrow? oh doll," fyodor coos the last part, biting his lip as he chuckled, "my dolly, my sweet sweet dolly, you won't even know if you are on earth or in heaven."

fyodor didn't hear your reply, immediately moving down to bite on your collarbone which he was only ever able to brush his fingers against for the past few months when he realised that maybe he wants to keep you by his side for as long as he can and could for fyodor doesn't think he has feelings for you as strong as to call them love.

fyodor sucked on your collarbone, licking it after before he looked up at you again, overcoming by the sudden urge to look at your face and the sight of your parted lips and barely opened eyes upon receiving such a small portion of pleasure made you look pure in fyodor's eyes, not to mention the moonlight falling on half of your body had only made you look more ethereal.

the nightgown straps barely on your elbows anymore as they revealed the upper portion of your cleavage and fyodor immediately knew that he had to free you from the fabric which is an obstacle for his hands from exploring your curves and body.

fyodor leans up on his arm, using the other to hook his index finger on your strap, pulling it down your arm, you raised your arm to help him slip the strap out with ease and once fyodor slipped both the straps off, he ripped the nightgown apart with his hand, immediately clinging his lips onto your naked breasts.

it started off as a single lick against your nipple before he went back to swirl his tongue against it, flickering it with his tongue.

then the sensation increased as his fingers trailed up your thighs and slipped into the nightgown, continuing their path up your other breast as he grazed the nipple with his nail before flickering it with his finger.

soon his index and middle finger squeezed the nipple between them, pulling on it as it made you hiss and fyodor smirked against your breast.

fyodor found pleasure in hearing your short breaths and gasps of pleasure and he would've loved to go and tease you for hours, manipulating you into thinking he is finally giving in to touch you, only for him to prove you wrong . . . only if it weren't for his painfully hard boner.

fyodor clicked his tongue before he grabbed your hips with both of his hands and rolled over with you on top of him once again as he looked up at you with that devilish smirk on his face, minute sweatbeads were beginning to form on his forehead and if you squint enough, you could see him gulping.

"be my good doll and ride me and tell me all your complaints. sweet doll, i will listen to every complain of your's today" fyodor tells you, hands slowly removing your panties as you lift yourself up to help him, he throws it away, not bothering to remove his sweatpants or anything as he immediately guides you to sit on his crotch, moving your hips to create some friction to ease his painfully hard erection, silently gasping as you slick wets his fabric.

fyodor smirks as his eyes remain closed, teasing you, "go on sweet doll, begin complaining to your daddy."

and when you nod, your head tilted back as you close your eyes and begin to move back and forth on his clothed boner, fyodor's eyes couldn't tear away from you ; your nightgown which was now rolled down and ripped to reveal your clevage, the slight pink mark appearing on your collar bone and your hair which fell infront of your face -- fyodor sucked in a breath.

his cold hands came to restrict your hips as he tapped once, you got the signal and you lifted yourself up slightly and watch fyodor skillfully remove his sweatpants and briefs with one hand, stroking his hardened and aggressive cock a few times before he rubbed the tip against your folds to get your slick on the tip, rubbing the length against your inner thighs which had slick dripping down.

"sit." he commanded a bit too softly to match the fire of lust blazing in his purple irises and if you paid enough attention to look past the pleasure and pain of sinking down on his cock, you could've seen the way his irises were dilated and reflected your image in them then you could've understood how deeply and intensely fyodor always stares at you.

a pained whimper left your lips as you settle down on his cock, feeling it strech your walls for the very first time. your fingers can't even fathom the sensation of his cock and now that you finally have it inside you, you know no one else, not even your own fingers or the finest toys out there, could satisfy you the way he is going to for the reason is simple, the same way the heart has no use if there is no blood left for it to pump, there is no libido in you if there is no fyodor.

for the sight of the man makes your brain fall into the lap of arousal and submit yourself to it, to fyodor.

"i am your doll? then why don't you cherish me and love me? why do you act as if we are just two partners in a deal? i am not one of your business partners, don't treat me professionally like you treat them" you grit your teeth, trying to get used to the pain.

you move up when you feel the pain become a bit bearable, going down on his cock as a choked breath leaves you and fyodor's eyes widen ; you move up and down his cock again, biting your lip in pain but the face you make as you are in pain yet try to give pleasure to him -- oh what a sight.

"you claim to love me? dumb man --" you let out a gasp, feeling your pussy clench around his cock as he sucked in a breath, "you are so smart yet how can you be so oblivious that your coldness makes me think you don't even like me?"

and suddenly, fyodor is hyper aware of his surroundings of how the bedsheet moves with your movements, the wet squelch as his cock enters and leaves your hole and your and his grunts and pants filling the entire room.

the hair falling on your face sticked to your forehead as you begin to move more on his cock.

fyodor parts his lips, your furrowed eyebrows relaxes as you let out a breath of relief, feeling the pain slowly turning into pleasure and fyodor did not stop himself or try to fool himself into believing he is superior when he leaned forwards, elbow propping against the bed as he brought his other hand towards your face and gently tucked the hair strands sticking to your forehead away, staring at you with a fond smile and suddenly everything makes sense, the sudden urge to touch you since the past few months, to whisper into your ears and watch you get shy and to give you whatever you desire, it all makes sense to him now for no one understood human emotions better then fyodor but to feel them, that's a different thing and he finally did.

"touch me, kiss me, caress me and let me do the same to you, you don't know, no one else can compare to you, you've me wrapped around your preety fingers. and it angers me to think someone else will claim you as her's one day. it isn't fair! you are mine, you should be mine, i don't want anyone else to have you except me. you are the type i want to marr--"

"i love you, my dumb doll." fyodor intrupted you as he breaths out, hand coming down to gently squeeze your nape, the sudden desire he felt is something he won't deny anymore as he pushes your nape forwards to once again have your lips against his.

your eyes widened, you've known fyodor enough to know words of affections are foreign to him so to hear him speak the purest words of intimation?

oh how your heart surrendered to him once more, how it bowed to him and was ready to bend to his will.

"i. love. you." with each word he spoke against your lips, he thrusted his hips upwards and relished as you moaned.

"i. love. you." he once again emphasized to let you hear him loud and clear, sucking on your bottom lip before pulling back and grabbing your chin with his index finger and thumb.

"you hear me? are my words reaching your ears, my doll? i love you." fyodor gritted his teeth, looking at your widened eyes and parted lips and how he resisted the urge to utterly ruin you and have you cry out his name as he saw how tears glistened and flowed down your cheeks.

"go on, confess the feelings you've always bottled up, my baby doll. and don't you dare stop no matter what, speak. tell your daddy how much you love him." fyodor commands, pinching your chin as he smiled seductively, pulling your chin closer to plant a small kiss on the corner of your lips, before he moved towards your lips to nibble on your upper lip.

fyodor pulled back and his purple eyes shined devilishly as he pulled on your nipple. "move your body and your lips, my doll. daddy is all your's. wanna wife you before the sun rises tomorrow yet i can't do that without knowing if you feel the same, can i? open that mouth and complain, after all, when have i ever denied you desires and wishes?"

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onsraas · 11 months ago

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𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞

┊luke castellan x daughter of aphrodite!reader — angst-fluff

summary: although the daughter of aphrodite tries, the feeling of love won't come other than from the person who not only seems oblivious, but also lacks the reciprocation of the love she so wildly desires. but, is that right?

warnings: use of y/n, 1st person, like one cuss word, (some poor writing tbh) — not proofread !!

wc: 1.3k

a/n: hello, I'm back with my take on why an "i love you, too." is more important than a bare "i love you." — also, can you notice the big fat crush I have rn through this? lmao.

ps. reblogs helps a whole lot.

photo credits | masterlist | navigation | request

My chest feels empty with the lack of a heart. I can feel it beating in my chest yet somehow the sense of emptiness remains there as I kiss this boy.

I can't remember his name, I don't even remeber if he said it or not, to be honest. But when his hands reach for my waist I try to help myself from gagging. I don't like the feeling of his hands on me.

Not as much as I like Luke's.

He's never touched me romantically, and yet his hand on my thigh trying to calm me down, his shaking hand in mine looking for comfort, his arms wrapped around me, lifting be from the ground after I told him big news, it all comes back to me before I feel a hand tug me backwards, tearing me away from the stranger I'd been kissing, who I now realise is Mark, a son of Ares.

"What is going on in here?" The voice behind me makes me shiver with recognition.

"What does it look like, dude? Leave." Mark says. He attempts to reach for my arm but I snatch it away.

Before either of them can say anything else, I turn to look at the person behind me: Luke. His face is contorted in an angry frown, glaring at Mark as if he'd just killed a kitten.

"What is it, Luke?" I say, my voice sounds annoyed, but although I'm looking at Luke, is not him whom I'm annoyed at. It's me. The fact that I had been imagining Luke kissing me while kissing someone else makes me think I'm stupid enough to not realize the truth: it's never gonna happen.

Luke's gaze softens when he looks at me, but still keeping the look of superiority. "You shouldn't be here. It's dark and you're very deep into the woods." He pauses and looks at me, but whatever he's looking for he doesn't find it. "We should get back."

"Okay," I agree. I think both of them were expecting me to put more of a fight because they look at me in confusion...or anger on Mark's side could be.

I pay Mark's insults no mind as I follow the path that will lead us back to the camp, Luke beside me.

Eventually we stop hearing Mark altogether and Luke finally says something. "Not a good one, huh?"

I shrug. My heart is overwhelmed with the sense of dread and the need to tear it out of my chest becomes more powerful with each step.

Why do I feel like this is my mother is the goddess of love? Why do I feel like this when everyone fights to get the bare minimum from me: a child of Aphrodite?

Could it be because the only person whom I really want looks at me with a shine that lacks of love?

Because every night I go to sleep I think about the stars and how they are my only companion when I see him look at someone else with the look I want all for myself.

I think about the stars whispering in my ear how I'm still dumb enough to not give up on the idea. What they don't realize, though, is that he's the one not letting me go.

He doesn't know my heart is his but still he won't drop it for it to break completely.

"Hey," Luke's hand on my shoulder stops me on my track, making me flinch a little. "What is going on?" His voice makes me want to break down and cry from how soft it is.

He is looking me right in the eye, and I can't help but notice that he's already invading my personal space with his closeness. "Nothing is going on, okay? Can we just...walk in silence?"

"No, we can't." I don't think he's ever talked to me this serious. "Not until you stop pushing me away."

I'm dumbfounded. "Wait, what?" My voice sounds weird to my own ears. "What are you talking about? I'm not pushing you away, Luke."

"Yes, you are, y/n, and you've been for the last year." His eyes reflect nothing but hurt, probably remembering how this last year has gone for both of us. "You think I don't realise? You think I don't realise how you do anything to stay away from me? And my only question is: why?"

He is closer to me than he's ever been and I can only focus on his intense blue eyes staring back at me. "That is none of your bussiness." I somehow get it out, still my voice sound breathier than normal.

I could get it out now, try to make the damage the least painful as possible, but my selfish heart tells me I can't make it better if a lose him.

"I think it is. Now, either you say it, or I'm going to say it myself." Still, I don't say a word. He leans impossibly closer, and my breath hitches when I feel his hand slightly touching mine, as if waiting for and invitation.

Fuck it. "You think you know, everything about me, Luke, well you don't. The answer to your question is the only thing you should have noticed and it's yet the only thing you see to have no clue about. The only reason I've been avoiding you, and doing anything to stay away from you is because..." I pause, trying to gather my thoughts. "It is because I love you, Luke. I have loved you from the very moment I met you all those years ago."

Luke looks at me as if a just grew a third head. Yet, somehow, I can for the first time feel my heart.

"Why were you kissing mark then?" He asks.

I scoff. "None of them matter, I've only ever done it because I wanted to stay away from you, Luke."

"Away from me? Why would you wanna make that?"

Is he serious? "You're just making fun of me at this point." I attempt to leave, but I fail when Luke grabs my arm, keeping me from leaving.

"I would never make fun of you." His voice is soft as silk. "I truly want to know."

I sigh. "I know you don't feel the same, Luke. That's okay. Just...please, don't become a stranger."

"I would never." He takes my hand in his, bringing us closer, or noses touching. I could lean a little and our lips would touch, but I won't unless he asks me to. "Can I kiss you now?"

When people said they felt butterflies I'd never undestood. Sure, I'd felt nervous, yet the feeling of butterflies fluttering in my stomach right now was so strong I wanted to vomit. I decide to nod instead.

His lips are soft in mine. One of my hands is occupied in his, while the other moves to wrap around his neck.

The kiss is sweet at first, two people showing affection through the art of kissing. But when Luke's tongue gets access inside my mouth I feel like we are both making up for all the times we wanted to do it but couldn't, for all the years of waiting, and for the time we need to catch up.

His hand leaves mine only to get bothe his hands in my waist, tugging me closer to him, closing any possible gap there could be between our bodies.

His hands are everywhere in my body and when his hands find the bare skin underneath my shirt I break the kiss, searching for his eyes. "Was that too fast?" He asks with pure panic.

I smile and shake my head before I wrap my arms around him, hiding my face in the crook of his neck, while he does the same.

"I love you, too." He says leaving a soft kiss in my neck.

And there a realise that the emptiness is long gone.

#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan #percy jackson #percy jackson x reader #luke castellan x you #luke castellas x reader fanfic #fanfic #Luke castellano x Aphrodite!reader #percy jackon and the olympians

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juuuulez · 11 months ago

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📰 | part eleven: capulet.

info: Carl Grimes x Saviour! Reader, slowburn, teenagers in love, blood and gore, descriptive injuries, not reeaallllyyy angst not really violence either, cute Judith.

summary: After being taken back to Hilltop for recovery, Carl plans something to help lift your spirits.

okay sorry for making you all wait with that cliffhanger!!!! next chapter is going to be soooooo pure and soft i’m promising you right now, i’m very excited to write it!

in other words…..i fear capulet may be coming to a close! we all know how the show went (😬) and though i don’t plan on killing off Carl, i’m curious as to where to take this….if anyone has something they wanna see, let me know!

-> masterlist <-

Everything moved so quickly, Carl struggled to make out what had just happened. You were there one second, gone the next, body limp on the concrete. The mere idea of something fatal made his stomach churn, heart clenching in his chest with pure panic.

He was panting, overwhelmed and stressed, now by more than just the raid. It didn’t take long to rush over, finding that truck you’d been hiding behind, his knees colliding roughly with the concrete as he came to kneel and assess the situation.

The gunfire faded away, as all Carl could hear was his heartbeat in his ears. His hands were trembling as he finally tried to touch you, rolling your body over onto your back, taking note of your unconscious state.

Red stained the side of your head, goopy blood soaked into your hair, pooling on the ground. He wiped some splatter from your cheek, terrified with the notion of baring a disfiguring injury. As his hand smoothed down your head, he felt a shallow groove along the side of your skull, gory and disgusting.

But it appeared the bullet skimmed past, wedging itself into the ground or a building or whatever, it didn’t even matter. Carl let out a hesitant sigh of relief with this realisation, pressing his hand firmly to the side of your skull, trying to stop the bleeding. He cringed at the bumpy expanse of where your ear had been completely taken off.

“Dad!” Carl yelled out, uncaring of giving away his position, just needing some sort of assistance. Each second they spent on the floor, panic welled up inside, growing distraught at the idea of doing nothing.

When no response came, Carl was about to yell again, somehow even louder. Fortunately, he turned to find Michonne approaching, having been alerted by his urgency.

“She needs help,” He tells her, though it’s blatantly obvious, with the dark red blood pooling on the floor. “We have-.. we have to do something, we can do something.”

Michonne comes to kneel besides Carl, though she’s looking out at the carnage, gun poised at the ready, the one she’d recently learnt how to shoot. She shakes her head, glancing down at your body, before continuing to keep watch.

“We can’t,” She says with emphasis, though her heart pangs at the distraught look on Carl’s face, eyes practically pleading with her. “He wouldn’t do this for you. For anyone.”

“This isn’t about him!” Carl yells, uncaring of his volume. His arms are already under your shoulders, trying to lift your limp form. Blood coats the side of your head and neck, pooling on your collarbone, getting all over Carl’s flannel as he tries to balance you.

He’s sick of it being about Negan. He’s sick of this war, of his family being threatened, of the people he cares about dying. It ends here.

Somehow, Michonne gives in, knowing she’d never be able to pry Carl away from your body. “Okay, okay,” She sighs, “Get her into the truck, and stay there. Someone will clot the bleeding. I’ll get your father.”

Carl doesn’t even ask questions, doesn’t wait to continue the conversation, already halfway standing before Michonne has finished speaking. He hauls your body up, awkwardly fumbling for a moment before he finds a more secure position, where he can bring you along to (supposed) safety.

Everyone knew of your reputation, and were reluctant to help. The doctor at Hilltop had tried to refuse, claiming to be uncomfortable with the suggestion, and Carl was amidst arguing when Rick returned.

Though sceptical, Rick decided that saving you would make great leverage. That your wounds were to be patched up, yet you’d remain at Hilltop, as hostage, until he could broker a deal with Negan over radio. If your health was at risk, then he wouldn’t come in guns blazing.

That, and Rick made it very clear that if anything went wrong, your ass was out with the walkers. Carl was sceptical, he didn’t think his father could be so cold, but considering all you’d done… maybe it wasn’t so far-fetched.

Turns out, the bullet had scraped past your head, leaving a nasty gash along your skull. It was easily stitched up, but would definitely leave a scar. The worst part: your entire left ear was gone. Shot clean off. It appeared that your eardrum had burst along with it, resulting in what would likely be long-term hearing loss from that side.

Your waking was slow, groggy and half-coherent the first few hours, though they granted you the reprieve of some heavy-duty pain medicine to ease the splitting headache. It was Rick who explained everything to you, and if you were capable of it, you would have attacked him. He knew that, too. Hence why you were handcuffed to the bed.

Mostly, you were angry at being captured. At being played, like a pawn in their stupid feud. At Carl avoiding you. The second you’d regained consciousness, he’d split, avoiding your little room at all costs. Yet, you knew he was here. He’d left his flannel behind, draped over your chest, which you were somewhat grateful for, given the flimsy tank you wore, braless and leaving little to the imagination.

Days passed. At least, you thought so, you weren’t allowed outside. To go to the bathroom, you had to ask through radio, and someone would come to un-cuff and supervise you. The whole situation was humiliating.

What was taking Negan so long? You missed him. Clearly, they were demanding something unreasonable, something that Negan couldn’t agree with. But surely you were worth it. You hoped so, anyway, after everything that had happened.

Eventually, after days of driving yourself crazy, the door opened. It was a small room, the interior of a stationary caravan, you thought. Nowhere to hide, that meant. Usually, when someone visited, it was in an attempted interrogation, or to watch closely while you ate the bare-bones meal they’d provide. You grit your teeth, that rude, uncaring attitude bubbling up again. Truthfully, you’re reaching breaking point here.

That doesn’t change when Carl finally enters.

He stands awkwardly at the doorway for a moment, something clasped tightly in his fist. Despite you wearing his flannel, he has another one on, a darker grey. How many of these does he have?

You don’t speak as he approaches, maybe wanting to give him the silent treatment. But neither does he. Slowly, Carl comes to stand beside your bed, unfurling his fist to offer something to you.

A small ringlet with a set of metal keys.

Immediately you reach out, trying to secure the bounty, but Carl pulls his hand away, keeping the keys out of reach.

In response to your venomous glare, he speaks slowly, words firm and stern. “No running off.” He tells you.

When you give no response, Carl takes it as understanding, moving cautiously as he slots the small key into the metal frame of your cuffs, releasing your wrist and letting them dangle from the bed frame.

The second Carl pulls away, you lunge at him. He reacts swiftly, hands grasping at your wrists, pushing you back against the bed. “Asshole!” You yell, squirming in his hold, desperate to be freed and far from here.

“Stop moving.” He commands, surprisingly strong, and just his tone is enough to force you into momentary submission, stilling against his hold.

You glare up at him, all those dirty emotions bubbling up since your capture. “This is your fault, isn’t it? Getting me kidnapped?” You brazenly accuse.

“You weren’t kidnapped,” Carl retorts, “I just didn’t want you bleeding out on the concrete—”

“Fuck you!” You cut him off, shamelessly yelling in his face. It seemed childish, like you were ungrateful of being saved, but for some stupid reason.. Carl liked that. He liked how aggressive you were. It felt good to be challenged.

“Do you want to get out of here, or not?” He finally asks, giving the slightest inkling of what he’s here for. Just the suggestion causes your mind to tick, and Carl knows he’s won by the look on your face.

He lets go of your wrists, and luckily, you don’t immediately try to escape. It’s clear he’s won you over, so Carl unclips the handcuffs, reattaching them to his belt for future use. Your eyes linger on them for a moment, wondering if he’d really cuff you, unsure whether that made you angry or excited.

“C’mon, up.” Carl commands, offering a hand to you. A moment of suspicion passes, before you just take it, letting Carl help you from the bed.

The first thing he notices is your sense of balance, which has been certainly fucked. You lean a little to the left side, prompting Carl to bracket your shoulders, trying to keep you upright. “There we go.” He mumbles when you find your footing, causing you to glare up at him.

The hostile reaction makes Carl grin, clearly amused, which does nothing to curb your attitude.

Somehow, there isn’t anybody guarding your door. It was locked, but Carl had the keys, so he quietly ushered you from the room. Avoiding the main gates, and consequently, any onlookers, Carl took you out towards Hilltop’s back, where a small opening in one of the walls let the pair of you sneak out.

A rusty car was parked against the wall, causing your brows to furrow in confusion, stopping on the path. You were suddenly hit with this wave of guilt. It must have been obvious, as Carl turned around, already opening the car door.

“Just a bit farther, I promise.” Carl tried to urge you along, satisfied when you gave in and got inside. You twisted in the passenger seat, alerted by the sudden cooing from behind you. Buckled into the back was Judith, who reached her chubby hand in your direction.

“Sorry,” He begun to apologise, “I couldn’t get out of babysitting. She won’t bother us.”

You smiled, resting sideways in the seat with your knees up, reaching out to meet her hand. She eagerly took it, squeezing the appendage with chubby fingers. “It’s okay.” You assured Carl.

The car vibrated as it started, the engine making a disturbing noise, but it ran nonetheless. Seemingly having a destination in mind, Carl drove down the dirt path, taking you away from Hilltop. It wasn’t necessarily a long drive, but you didn’t speak, aside from a few hushed mumbled as you entertained Judith’s blabbering.

Eventually he stopped near the treeline, thick shrubbery decorating the edge of the road. The car pulled over, and when Carl got out, he made an effort to haul a large branch in front of it, hoping the slight cover would deter any stragglers from picking it up. Clearly, he’d thought this out.

“Coming?” He asked when you remained still, already having picked Judith up from her seat, and was descending down a small slope past the bushes.

You felt inclined to follow, curious as to what this entire trip was about. As you stepped through the shrubs, you were reminded of your skewed balance, not quite steady. Fortunately, you made it down the hill without any casualties.

Carl walked a few meters ahead, placing Judith down, and revealing his plan. The sight made you shake your head, brows pinching in this weird mix of irritation and appreciation.

“You suck.” You grit out, giving Carl that same unamused expression, which only makes him smile harder.

He leaves Judith on a soft plaid picnic blanket, already decorated with crayons and paper, to which she eagerly grabbed at. There was a bag, too, and you wondered what was inside, though the mere thought that Carl had set this up made your heart clench, not sure how to interpret the gesture.

“Just sit down. Enjoy it while it lasts,” Carl advised you, taking your hand to tug you along towards the blanket, “We’ll be fighting again before you know it.”

Against your better judgement, you obeyed, a soft smile on your face.

Maybe you could do with a break.

#carl grimes x reader #the walking dead x reader #twd x reader #carl grimes #twd x you #carl grimes x you #the walking dead

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