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ne0nic · 2 months

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Late Nights & Shorter Skirts

Nicholas D. Wolfwood x Fem!Reader x Vash the Stampede

MDNI

ִ ࣪𖤐 Word Count: 2.6k

ִ ࣪𖤐 CW: NSFW, Sex, Car Sex, Threesome, Dubious Consent, Sneaky Sex

ִ ࣪𖤐 No use of Y/N, Never use of Y/N

It's been an exhausting day, spent mostly on the run. Eating was a luxury you barely had time for. Now, the car is filled with an uneasy silence, broken only by Roberto's snores up front, seemingly indifferent to the day's chaos. The radio softly plays, its evangelical preaching ignored by the occupants. In the back, you find yourself sandwiched between the two formidable men – Wolfwood on the left and Vash on the right. Both wrapped in their own contemplative quietude.

The late hour extends beyond the appropriate time for driving, a result of being abruptly chased out of the last town by relentless bounty hunters, leaving you all restless. Meryl yawns from the driver's seat, gradually turning up the radio, likely in an attempt to stave off drowsiness.

The weariness and frustration are palpable among the occupants of the car. Yet, each person in the vehicle copes with this exhaustion in their own manner.

Wolfwood's calloused fingers graze over your bare thigh, a gesture both sweet and comforting. The touch is gentle, barely skimming your skin, and as he gradually adds more fingers, you feel a sense of warmth enveloping you. His fingers dip towards your inner thigh, his palm pressing against your skin with a hearty squeeze. Your hands slowly wrap around the arm pressed into your chest, and you find solace in resting your forehead on his bicep, savoring the comforting presence after a long day.

After a few moments you feel his fingers slip under your skirt, but he doesn't go much further. Simply continuing to run his fingers along your upper thigh. But that obviously doesn't last long as his hand slides up higher. His middle finger just barely brushes your panties when you grab his wrist to stop him. Your wide and curious gaze meets his. Wolfwood senses your questioning thoughts about the timing of his movements, not the movements themselves. He smirks, confidently reaffirming his touch and slipping his middle finger between your legs. The first initial dull touch to your clothed clit has you grabbing onto him tighter. He rubs shallow circles over your panties, awakening your senses just like he intended.

You press your lips into a fine line as he adds his ring finger. The two digits stretch downwards, pressing against your core that's already making your underwear damp, a fact he revels in.

Roberto snorts and stirs, causing Wolfwood to retract his devious fingers from you. He corrects his posture as you pull your skirt down. But it's momentary and soon Roberto is snoring again and everyone else in the car didn't notice the two of you. Wolfwood rubs the stubble on his chin, taking a glance at you. Even in the dim light he can see the unease on your face. A fire between your legs that he started, evident by the way you press your knees together in an attempt to smother it. But it would be such a waste. The thought of you, cheeks pink, head reeling, cunt dripping next to him wanting more, makes his cock flood with need. And, fuck, would he be stupid to pass it up.

You go stiff as you feel Wolfwood's fingers slip behind you. Between you and the seat he reaches down, fingers slipping past the band of your skirt. Your breath hitches as you realize what he's doing.

Vash hears the jolt in your breath and turns. He glances over your form, but other than your pursed lips and stiff back, you seem fine. On the other side of you Wolfwood rests his head in his hand, his elbow against the door, uncaring. Vash returns his gaze out the window.

Wolfwood's slick fingers pass the top of your panties and reach down further beneath your ass. From underneath you, without restriction his fingers finally reach your slick pussy. He runs his fingers through the sopping mess, emphasizing it, making sure you know he can tell how much you want this. And then slides his fingers inside.

You press the back of your hand to your mouth, hoping to cover the mewl that threatens to escape your lips. From this angle his fingers reach deep within you, stirring the need that boils through your core. He starts out gentle, just brushing the parts that have your head spinning. But soon it's clear that his teasing is only making it worse.

God, you're fucking soaked. His hand becomes covered in you, begging for something more, something harder. And, fuck, does he want to give it to you. But no matter how much his dick is starting to hurt he needs you to suffer, just a little bit. He needs you to feel what he felt all fucking day while you bounced around in this short ass skirt. Jutting your hips out every time you bent over even slightly. Jumping onto your toes every time Vash addressed you. Not to mention watching other men take even just a peek at what was his. He needs to make sure you know what you've done, what you've put him through. And engrave into your body just who it belongs to.

Your head is going fuzzy from pleasure and need. He's ruthless in the way he takes you apart with nothing to brace yourself with. Wolfwood is usually the rougher type when he steals you away in the night. But this time he's just brutal, doing everything to wear you down into a begging mess. You need more. You need him.

Your fingers trace over the thick bulge in his pants. Pleased to find the protruding line of his dick already hard and ready. Wolfwood drops his head at your touch. The sigh that passes his lips half full of relief and frustration. With confidence your hand moves towards his belt and pulls it.

Wolfwood snatches your hand, pulling it away. “That's dangerous, babygirl.”

“Keep messing with me and I'll show you dangerous.”

The subtle threat you spit back drives him. You're already so needy you're getting mouthy. Usually after saying something like that he'd shove you down, his hand around your throat, and fuck you hard enough that your eyes would roll back, but he can't, not here, and you know it. Instead, he whips out his cock, stiff and leaking. You press your lips together feeling his fingers slip around your neck.

“You want it so badly? Take it.” You glance around the car, making sure no one else is paying attention to you both. His fingers grip tighter causing your breath to hitch. “Don't you worry about them.” Swiftly and carefully you seat yourself in Wolfwood's lap, his cock between your thighs. He's quick to smooth your skirt over the top of you both. Then presses your legs together, smothering himself against your soaked panties. The tips of his fingers dig into your plush skin as his hips rut into you.

Ah shit. He's not gonna last. Fucking these thighs that have been testing his patience all day, he'll lose it.

It feels so good, the hard tip brushing against your swollen clit, dulled by your panties. Your pussy is clenching in need. You want to be filled, but Wolfwood is so damn cruel. You know he's upset about the skirt, but he was the one who made you wear it! And now he's punishing you for it!

His head smothers into your neck, trying to hide his groans and sighs of pleasure. In no time your thighs are slick with your combined juices and there's no chance of saving your panties nor the skirt. But he can't hold back anymore. He needs to feel you tight around him. Wolfwood reaches under the skirt pulling your panties to the side and adjusting his hips. Before you can even breathe he's thrusting into you. The both of you sent reeling.

You clench tight around him instantly, causing his teeth to bare. Your cunt flutters around him, your eyes rolled back body shuddering. Wolfwood smirks as his hands wrap around your torso.

“Did you just cum? Just from me putting it in?” He asks, his tone full of taunting.

“You prick,” you huff at him, only making his sadistic smirk grow wider. And he thrusts again, throwing your oversensitive body back into the fray. You clamp a hand over your mouth, begging that nothing comes out. He takes you, brutally and silently, knowing how to make you fall apart.

His rough fingers slide up your shirt, pushing the flimsy bralette out of the way to pinch at the pert nipples it did a terrible job of hiding. Your other hand takes his wrist, trying to stop him from making you any more sensitive. Fearing that you may be discovered soon.

His lips trace the back of your neck, kissing and biting until he's sure he's marked your whole shoulder. That way no one can even question who you belong to.

From the corner of his gaze he can see Vash. None the wiser about the inappropriate things being done just next to him. What a shame. It was Vash's idea to get the skirt in the first place. It's rude not to share with him the fruit of his labour.

Wolfwood turns your head, bringing your hazy eyes towards Vash. “Let him have a taste of you too.”

You purse your lips, but you can't deny, you want Vash too. It's a shame you were all chased out of town before you had a chance to mess him up. You'd been craving him all day, making it apparent in the way you'd hold your chest out to him with big sweet eyes, bouncing in the skirt he got for you. The way his cheeks would tinge red and he'd began to stammer would drive you mad with want.

You slip from Wolfwood's lap, your attention on Vash like a tiger stalking their prey. Your hands on the seat as you crawl towards— Without warning Wolfwood grabs your hips and shoves his cock in, throwing you forward into Vash.

The blonde, startled by your sudden weight looks down at your dazed, blissed out expression. His eyes widen as he turns, seeing Wolfwood smirk at him as he thrusts his hips forward again. Your arms wrap around Vash's neck loosely, his cheeks now burning crimson.

“Kiss,” you mewl to him. “Vash. Kiss.”

He's conflicted, but it's evident his turmoil is a losing battle when you look at him like that. His flesh hand caresses your face lifting it so he can slot his lips against yours. Vash covers your moans with his mouth as Wolfwood's cock reaches deeper inside you. Wolfwood grows even harder at the display of Vash crumbling to your needs before him.

Your hand rests on Vash's thigh as he kisses you breathless. Breaking the kiss you lean into his ear. “Mmh~” Your fingers brush over the tent in Vash's pants making his body go rigid.

“Shit. What are you doing?” Vash asks you. Your lips kiss just below his ear.

“Let me make you feel good too. Please?” you ask, desperate to feel him as well. Vash doesn't protest as you pull his zipper down and free his aching cock from the confines of his pants. Your hand wraps around him stroking him. His breath shudders at the contact making you smile, pressing kisses to his jaw.

You bend down eagerly, licking the tip, making Vash's thighs tense. And then you swallow him whole, relaxing your throat to take him all the way in. It hurts a bit but it's worth making Vash throw his head back, hand covering his mouth as he tries to hold back his own moans. His hand rests on the back of your head. His dick pulses in your throat while simultaneously Wolfwood thrusts undeniably harder.

You work in tandem, Wolfwood thrusts you forward and down onto Vash. The blonde becomes weak to the motions. His cheeks burning red as he looks out the window with glassy eyes, trying to hide his pleasure. But it becomes evident he wants more as his hips move upwards, trying to push himself deeper into your mouth.

Wolfwood grips your hips painfully tight and smacks his hips into yours causing your limbs to go limp instantly. He's getting close, and he wants you right there on the edge with him.

Little does he know just how ready you are. Stuck between your two favorite men, pleasing them with your body, it's enough to make anyones head spin.

Vash's hand tightens in your hair signaling his own approaching release. One more hard thrust has all of you cumming. Both men filling either side of you as your mind goes numb.

You float through your daze, feeling a simultaneous ache in your pussy and your throat. Your head rests against Vash's shoulder the blonde feeling like he's shaking beneath you. Once your head clears enough you look up at him. His hand pressed tightly to his lips and eyes glassy as if he's either in pain or going to cry. It alarms you so you lift your head only to see his dick still standing straight up, tip red and angry.

It wasn't enough and he's so hard, ready to burst, that it hurts. Luckily, you think you can manage another.

Shifting over to Vash you straddle his thighs his face showing surprise and imminent relief. You take his cheeks, kissing his lips feather light. “I've got you. You only need to ask.” You reassure him just as you sink onto his cock. The stretch burns in the wake of your second orgasm, making your head fall to his shoulder. Vash huffs and pants, the sensation immediately too much for his sensitivity. God, he needs you, he needs more of you. His arms wrap around your back, one gripping your waist the other your shoulder and he plunges you deeper onto him. Your body tenses at the depth of his cock within you.

“S-Sorry. I'm sorry,” Vash mutters into your ear. “I need you.” He snaps his hips upward and you realize you've made a grave mistake.

Vash loses his reason to the pleasure, quickly, and you start to loose consciousness with the way his tip hits your cervix. He pummels his need into you, holding your arms at your side so that you're helpless against him, not that you'd stop him anyway. The pain and pleasure mix so good you're growing addicted to the way every other part of your body turns numb.

Tears drip down your cheeks, as you beg him for release. Whether you're begging for his or yours no longer matters. You want this pleasure to peak so badly you can taste it. Or maybe that's just you biting his neck, trying to find something to ground yourself.

Vash's cock grows impossibly bigger inside you making silent cries fall from your lips as he snaps his hips once more throwing you both over the edge. He fills you up, a relentless amount, the kind that's determined to keep you, make you his forever. And all of it only makes your orgasm all the harder. Your face smothered into his shoulder, trying to silence yourself the best you can as Vash's struggled groans fill your ear. The sound itself so sexy you could listen to it always.

But your mind is getting fuzzier than before, exhaustion suddenly taking you. You slump against Vash, eyes already closed, sleep floating you away.

After a while Vash finally stops cumming. His hands rub against your back before realizing just how deep in sleep you are. Not that he can blame you. With great care he lifts your head, sliding you off his lap and into the seat next to him. Your head against his arm. Wolfwood fixes your clothes and brushes his fingers down your face, knowing the mess they'll have to deal with whenever they get where they're going.

One simultaneous thought in agreement between the three of you.

Skirts are dangerous.

#trigun stampede #trigun #trigun fanfiction #vash the stampede x reader #nicholas d. wolfwood x reader #vash x reader #wolfwood x reader #vash x reader x wolfwood

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ne0nic · 2 months

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I'm so normal about them 🥰

H̶̡̢̛̥̭̣͈̤͍̯̎̎̔͆̿̅o̸̰͕͓̹̓̆̾̒́̇̄́̏̎l̴̥̫̉͆y̵̧̜͈͖̟̻͔̾̄ ̷̢̬̹̫͔͂͒̚F̵͎̈̒͋̏͛́̉̕ù̶̦̐c̸̯̒̅̇̀ͅk̷̛̬͕͙͍̝͉͙̜͙̩͋͊̃͝͝

#trigun #trigun stampede #trigun figures #trigun popupparade #vash the stampede #nicholas d. wolfwood #so normal #im just fine #definitely not feral #everythings ok #i promise #i lied

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ne0nic · 3 months

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#dragon age #dragon age inquisition #dragon age memes #dragon age meme

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ne0nic · 3 months

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I love that my Orter Madl post from June is going around because of Season 2.

Welcome New Orter Girls, Gays, & Theys. I love you!!!

#mashle #orter madl #mashle orter

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ne0nic · 3 months

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Chapter 3 of Bonten's Anomaly. It's a little short but I believe the content will make up for that.

If you were waiting for the spice, babes this is it.

#tokrev #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers fanfiction #tokyo revengers x reader

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ne0nic · 3 months

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Chapter 2 of Bonten's Anomaly is now up!

#tokyo revengers x reader #tokrev #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers fanfiction

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ne0nic · 6 months

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Be The Reason

₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ Vash x f!Reader ₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

MDNI

ִ ࣪𖤐 Word Count: 31.8k

ִ ࣪𖤐 CW: NSFW, Sex, Self Harm, Guns, Knives, Blood & Gore, Angst, Hurt with Not Alot of Comfort, BountyHunter!Reader, Siblings Relationship with Wolfwood & Livio, Blind Loyalty to Millions Knives, Wolfwood Escaped the Church, Slight Trauma Bonding, Loosely Follows the Plot of Trigun Stampede, '98 Trigun Elements if You Squint

ִ ࣪𖤐 No use of Y/N, Never use of Y/N

ִ ࣪𖤐 Just a Snippet, Too Long For Tumblr

"This is an order from Knives."

"Of course it is," you drone, looking over the wanted poster. After years of being Knives' loyal soldier, he's finally tasked you with playing in the big leagues—the Humanoid Typhoon. It's the most sought-after bounty on the board, and now it's your sole target. You haven't failed Knives yet, and you sure as hell won't start now.

Finding this guy, Vash the Stampede, an awful code name by any standard, is already next to impossible. Bounty hunters have thrown heaps of cash for even a hint of his whereabouts for years, with nothing to show for it. You're not interested in the lies or wasting imaginary money. But maybe, just maybe, you know better than them.

The next time a call comes in, and some eager kid rushes into the bar spouting nonsense about spotting the Humanoid Typhoon, the hunters are instantly in a frenzy. They swarm to their trucks and speed off into the desert without a second thought. However, you don't follow their lead. In fact, you turn in the opposite direction.

He is aware that he's been hunted for a long time, and he's probably accustomed to diverting the crowd away from wherever he's hiding. Plus, he likely has a few friends willing to provide cover for him. You'll need to outsmart them all to catch your elusive prey.

Honestly, it takes a bit longer than you'd hoped, but the payoff is worth it. In a small bar, nestled in an unassuming town, the man with the biggest bounty No Man's Land has ever seen sits, savoring his drinks like there's no tomorrow. You observe from the shadows atop the stairs as he shares hearty laughs and engages in charming banter with the locals. His smile is wide and inviting, just like the one on his wanted poster. It's a bit strange coming from a guy accused of the things he has done, but, to your disappointment, it's evident that everyone here is armed and more than willing to defend him from you.

So, patience becomes your ally. It's frustrating, but he's within your grasp, practically in the palm of your hand. All that remains is to seize the moment. You quietly step back, plotting your move.

Down below, Wolfwood's gaze widens as he catches a glimpse of a shadow retreating from the railing above. There's something eerily familiar about it, but it can't be...

"Hey, everything okay?" Vash inquires, noticing the alarmed look on his face. Wolfwood lowers his eyes and takes a drag from his cigarette before flicking the ashes away.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he responds nonchalantly, though it hardly convinces Vash.

The two eventually depart from the bar late into the night, leaving behind patrons who have fallen asleep where they sat. Eager not to end up like them, they make their way toward tonight's lodgings.

And, naturally, you are there too, shrouded in darkness, silently tailing the pair. Vash sways slightly from side to side, a bit too entranced by the alcohol.

Wolfwood abruptly stops, causing you to retreat into the shadows. "What's up?" Vash asks, puzzled, as he turns toward his companion.

"I forgot something. You go on ahead," Wolfwood says abruptly, before disappearing down an alley without further explanation.

"Alright," Vash mumbles and continues down the street.

In just a matter of minutes, you have Vash pinned against an alley wall. With one hand securing the back of his neck and keeping him at bay, you deftly fasten the cuffs around his wrists. "Hey, can we maybe start with introductions? What's your name?"

"Make a sound, and I'll dislocate your arm," you warn, emphasizing your point by gripping where skin and metal meet. Vash winces.

"Okay! Okay! I get it," he says quickly. You slide his gun from its holster.

"Hey, hey, hey! That's important! Could you not touch that?" he pleads.

"Shut up," you snap, stowing the gun in the back of your pants.

The sudden hum and activation of a weapon cause you to freeze. Out of the corner of your eye, you spot Wolfwood, his grip firm on the Punisher, but his eyes betraying hesitation. This isn't exactly the time or place you'd planned for a reunion, but you knew he wouldn't be far. Your training has made you acutely aware of each other's presence.

"You're alive," he murmurs, astonishment in his voice. "And you're working for Knives?"

"Stay out of my way," you instruct firmly.

"You don't have to work for those bastards! You can—" Your knife pierces through his stomach. Wolfwood meets your gaze with wide eyes. Evidently, your speed has caught him off guard. It's almost amusing to see him realize you're not the naive kid you once were.

"I can do what?" you ask, drawing your knife back, making him lurch before collapsing onto the sand. "Run away like you did? I chose this, Nico," you remind him in a hushed yet resolute voice.

"Wolfwood?!" Vash cries out in alarm.

"Move it," you snap, sheathing your dagger. You grab Vash by the coat and forcibly drag him away.

"Wait! Wait! He'll die!" Vash protests desperately.

"If I wanted to kill him, he'd be dead," you say coldly, showing no remorse for your actions. At the edge of town, you throw Vash into your car. He flops onto the seat and looks up at you with wide, bewildered eyes.

"How could you do that to him?" Vash asks, his voice filled with disbelief and concern.

Without acknowledging him, you slam the car door shut and speed away from the small town, venturing out into the vast desert ahead.

"Are you… like Wolfwood?" Vash continues, trying to make sense of your actions. You remain silent, your elbow resting on the door as you lean your head against your fist.

"Just be quiet," you mutter.

"You care about him, don't you?" Vash persists, undeterred by your lack of response. His curiosity seems insatiable. Frustrated, you lean forward and grab a half-eaten donut from a pastry bag on the dashboard. Without a word, you stuff it into Vash's mouth. He's momentarily surprised but can't resist the sweetness. A brief moment of silence follows until he finishes his bite.

"Those marks on your wrist, what are they from?" Vash inquires, determined to extract some information from you. His persistence is starting to get on your nerves.

"Enough," You snap, finally putting a stop to Vash's incessant questions. He closes his mouth, clearly surprised by your outburst. "He warned me you were talkative," you mutter, annoyed.

"Just tell me one thing. Why do you work for him?" Vash presses, determination in his eyes.

You shift your jaw, contemplating whether to answer. After a moment, you decide to offer a glimpse of the truth. "For the thrill and the cash."

"And you're from the orphanage?" Vash inquires further.

"Hell no. I was… a volunteer," you admit with a bitter tone.

"What?" Vash's heart aches as he hears your confession. After Wolfwood explained everything he went through, Vash can't fathom someone willingly subjecting themselves to such a fate.

"I became what I wanted to be, and now I'm Knives' favorite," you continue, bitterness still present in your voice. "Nico hated me when we were younger. He lost his mind when he realized I let it happen. But none of that matters. Once I drop you off to Knives, I'll be on my way with my money." Vash's gaze returns to your wrist with a new understanding.

"So then those marks—" he starts to ask, his voice filled with concern.

"I wasn't always Knives' favorite," you mumble, and Vash looks at your face, a deep sense of guilt washing over him. His brother hurt you, left scars on your body. If he hadn't… If they hadn't…

The weight of your words sinks in, leaving a heavy silence in the car as the desert stretches endlessly around you.

The car jerks violently, throwing both you and Vash around as it spins through the sand. You desperately try to keep it steady, but the sandy terrain has other plans. Finally, the car comes to a halt, thankfully without tipping over. As it settles, you shoot an annoyed glare at Vash, who has ended up leaning on you during the chaos. You push him off, not in the mood for any of this. "Get the hell off me."

"Sorry! Sorry!" Vash stammers, scrambling away from you. You quickly scan the rearview mirror as the dust begins to settle, revealing a figure standing on the dune behind you, holding a large cross-shaped weapon.

"Bastard!" You hiss, flinging open the car door, ready to confront the threat.

"Wait! Don't just leave me-" Vash pleads, but you slam the door shut behind you. Your hand darts to the back of your pants, retrieving the gun as you zero in on the figure. With a quick, practiced motion, you cock the hammer back and pull the trigger.

Click.

Is this a joke?! Why the hell was this idiot carrying an unloaded gun? Your irritation is interrupted by searing pain that shoots through your arm, forcing you to drop the useless weapon. You groan in agony as your arm falls to your side.

Shit!

Pressing your back against the car, you fight through the pain, knowing Wolfwood is closing in. You might have to kill him, even though Knives hadn't ordered it. But right now, you need to come to terms with the fact—

"Hey! Are you alright?! Let me see!" Vash suddenly pops up in front of you, the handcuffs only around his flesh wrist clinking. He reaches out toward your injured arm.

"What the hell? Get away from me!" you snap, making Vash flinch back.

"I just wanna help," Vash insists.

"Don't worry. She'll heal in a moment," Wolfwood's voice cuts through the tension as he stands at the tail end of the car.

"Bastard! I'll damn well kill you!" You screech, as you attempt to get to your feet, the pain ebbing as your arm begins to heal. Steam rises from your skin, and you can't help but wince in agony.

Vash takes a step forward, a desperate desire to help you coursing through him, but Wolfwood's firm hand presses against his chest, holding him back. Vash glances at him, and Wolfwood doesn't meet his gaze. After your pain subsides and you regain your composure, Wolfwood scrutinizes you from head to toe.

"Hurts like a bitch, don't it?" he asks in a gruff tone.

"Fuck you," you spit out venomously, leaning against the car to regain your footing. "Why the hell are you protecting him?! He's worth billions!"

"Why the hell are you working for Knives?! After what he did to us?!" Wolfwood fires back, frustration evident in his voice.

"Us?" You repeat with a scoff, fully standing from the car, which prompts Wolfwood to position himself closer to Vash. You narrow your gaze at his actions. "There is no us. You made that very clear."

"Just because I didn't agree with your insanity doesn't mean I don't-"

"Care about me?!" You finish his sentence, your tone dripping with cynicism. "That's cheap coming from you."

"I'm trying to help you, dammit!" Wolfwood yells, exasperation etched across his face.

"I don't need your help," you retort, pulling your dagger out of its sheath. "I need you to stay down."

"If that's the way you wanna settle this," Wolfwood concedes, dropping the Punisher weapon into the sand.

"You're not actually gonna fight her, are you?!" Vash pleads.

"It's what she wants," Wolfwood mutters, tossing his cigarette to the ground and smothering it.

"Come on, you two grew up together! This is crazy! We can just talk things out!" Vash insists, hoping to find a peaceful resolution.

"Stay out of this, Needle Noggin," Wolfwood sighs, cracking his knuckles. "This has been a long time coming."

"Ready?"

"Ready."

"Stop! Hold it! Hold on!" Vash steps between both of you, trying to be the voice of reason. He turns to Wolfwood. "I won't let you-" But before he can finish his plea, your foot hooks around his waist, and you throw him aside. Vash tumbles into the sand, watching the ensuing brawl unfold.

You and Wolfwood go at it fiercely, fists swinging, and landing hard smacks on each other. He dodges your blade with ease, and you deftly evade his counterattacks. It seems as if you're evenly matched for a while. Blood and bruises start to decorate both of your faces, but your healing powers kick in, burning with pain that only fuels your rage.

With a swift sweep of your leg, you send Wolfwood crashing into the sand. You leap onto him, clutching the knife tightly, ready to deliver a finishing blow. But just as you raise the knife over your head, pain shoots through your fingers as the blade snaps in half and lands in the sand. You whirl your head toward Vash, his gun still smoking. It's a move of desperation, and Vash has never been more thankful for the spare bullet he found.

Wolfwood seizes the opportunity to switch positions, pinning you to the sand. You struggle against him, demanding he get off. He holds you in place until you stop resisting. Lying back, you mutter, "Just kill me."

"I could never do that."

"I'm dead anyway," you mutter, revealing the harsh reality that Knives considers you expendable. It's a grim truth that hangs heavy in the air.

"Everything you've done has been to survive. And I was the asshole who doubted you. I was wrong for that. But right now you can trust that I won't let anything happen to you."

"Idiot. As if you're any match for him," you sigh. Slowly, Wolfwood gets to his feet and helps you stand. But before he can react, your foot lands a solid kick to his shin, causing him to keel over in pain.

"That's for shooting at me!" you declare.

"God! You devil woman!" Wolfwood curses, nursing his throbbing leg.

"Get over it," you sigh. Your gaze locks onto Vash, making the blonde stiffen. With brisk steps, you approach him. He holds up his hands, not wanting any smoke. You grip the pad of the handcuffs, and it unlatches from his wrist. He looks down in surprise.

"You're… Letting me go?"

"I lost. It's just how things are between us," you admit, already hating the unspoken agreement that hangs in the air. Wolfwood groans behind you as the elixir does its job, gradually mending his wounds.

"But if you go back empty-handed-"

"It doesn't matter," you say firmly. Vash reaches out, placing a hand on your shoulder.

"It does matter! You said it yourself. Stay with us."

You pause, your emotions conflicting within you. Finally, you admit, "I don't really have much choice anyway."

Vash's eyes flutter open, adjusting to the daylight that's already warming up the car. He stretches and yawns, glancing around the vehicle. "Good morning," he greets, still somewhat groggy. His eyes dart to the front where you're driving in silence. "Where's Wolfwood?" he asks, puzzled. You remain silent, and Vash scratches his face, gradually realizing there are cuffs restraining him. His eyes widen as he sees his revolver resting on the dashboard. He lets out an exasperated groan and rubs his face. "Don't tell me you tricked us."

"Nico, always had this thing about family. We all were put through the same shit so we're family. I never understood it but he was dumb enough to think I did."

"You're quite persistent, I'll give you that," Vash remarks with a sheepish smile. You glance at him briefly in the rearview mirror.

"You're nothing like him, you know?" you comment. "You might look just like him, but I could never imagine that man smiling before I met you." Vash falls silent.

"He wasn't always like that," he says quietly.

"You would know," you reply.

"So, where are you taking me?"

"July," you say. "I haven't had the chance to update my associates yet, though."

"Is it wise to tell me that?" Vash questions.

"I figured if you were planning an escape, you'd prefer to do it now," you say. "I'd rather keel over in the sun than make a false call to Knives."

"So you've already made time for me to escape? You're quite punctual."

"I have about three weeks left to play cat and mouse with you before Knives comes looking for me."

"And Wolfwood?"

"Idiot got out to take a leak and I just drove away," you smirk. "You slept right through all his cursing."

"He didn't shoot at the car again?" Vash asks. You gesture with your thumb towards the back, and Vash turns to see the signature cross-shaped weapon in the trunk. He lets out a sigh, dropping his head.

"One last thing," you add. "I know you removed your prosthetic hand to escape the cuff before. So if you look down, you'll see a glove over your hand." Vash examines the glove. "I've wedged it into your wrist and the cuff. If you try to remove it, it will tear," you explain.

"What's to stop me from-" Vash begins.

"That glove is the last memento I have of my grandmother. Please handle it with care," you interject.

"Oh, come on!" Vash groans, covering his face with his hands. You chuckle softly from the front seat.

"Hungry?" you ask, offering him a bag. Vash accepts it, still pouting.

"Thank you," he says.

Another silent hour of driving is slowly driving Vash mad. The desire to be doing something, anything useful, gnaws at him, making his skin itch.

"Need to stop for gas," you finally break the silence, and Vash perks up as he spots a small gas station in the distance, situated in the middle of nowhere.

"Could you get me a drink?" Vash asks, flashing a sweet smile.

"You're the one who's being kidnapped, and you're asking for a drink?" you remark, raising an eyebrow.

"Pretty please?" Vash continues to smile. You pull up to the gas pump and open your car door, muttering to yourself.

"He's lucky he's so damn cute; otherwise, I might have left him tied to the back of the car hours ago," you grumble, slamming the car door. Vash watches as you open his door and grab his arm, causing him to stumble out of the car.

"Ye-eh!" he utters, and you press your finger to the cuff, unlocking the one around his flesh wrist. After closing the door, you loop the cuff around the door handle and latch it again.

"There you go. Some outdoor time, puppy," you say, patting his shoulder, before turning away.

"Woof," Vash mumbles sarcastically. From the other side, you begin filling up the car with gas and then proceed into the store.

"Welcome!" The shop clerk greets you with a smile.

Vash tugs at the handcuffs gently, their clattering noise echoing against the car. He contemplates the idea of breaking them; they couldn't be that strong, right? Surely he's stronger. With a determined stance, Vash focuses on the metal restraints, mentally preparing them for their imminent demise. Without further hesitation, he yanks on the handcuffs. Instead of breaking, as he had hoped, the car door suddenly swings open, smacking him in the face. Vash stumbles backward, clutching his nose, tears forming at the corners of his eyes. Angrily huffing away his frustration, he kicks the car door in revenge, not considering it might pull him too when it closes. After wiping his face, he looks around, relieved that no one witnessed his mishap.

However, you did see it. Attracted by the noise, you glanced over just in time to catch the hilarious moment. You wish you had recorded it; it would be perfect to show Wolfwood the next time you see him.

But then reality hits you. You won't be seeing him again. You grab a bag of chips from the shelf and continue your shopping, your clouded thoughts suddenly clearing.

Meanwhile, Vash rubs his nose one last time before glancing back at the handcuffs. His heart sinks as he realizes the glove has torn a bit. Oh no! He didn't mean for this to happen! What's he going to say to you? You'll be disappointed, and that would break his heart. Your grandmother...

Wait a minute.

You don't even have a grandmother.

Exiting the store with a plastic bag in hand, you pull the gas pump out of the car. Stepping to the other side, you peer into the bag.

"I got you some juice and chips. I hope that's..." you begin to say but trail off when you see the handcuffs - handcuffs with no hands to cuff. You mutter a curse. Just when you were trying to do something nice for him. That smooth-talking, cute smiling motherfucker.

Unfortunately for him, the unforgiving desert doesn't conceal his tracks, and they lead in the direction he ran. You jump into the car, knowing you'll catch up with him.

Sure enough, a dune over, you spot Vash sprinting for his life with Wolfwood's cross on his back. You pull up in front of him and lower the window.

"Really? The fuck were you gonna go? There's miles of nothing out here," you say.

"Hey! You started it by lying to me! You don't have a grandma!"

"I have a grandma!" You defend. "I just… Never knew her." You sigh, rubbing the tiredness from your face. "Just get back in the car. Try to escape in a more populated area next time."

Vash reluctantly concedes, realizing he doesn't have much of a choice. He opens the car's back door and tosses the cross inside. As he does, the distant sound of revving engines fills the air, drawing his attention. He listens closely, making out the sound of bandits whooping and laughing like maniacs.

"Bandits. They're attacking the store," he tells you, concern in his voice. You shake your head, leaning your arms on the window.

"So?" you reply indifferently.

"So?! We have to help them!" Vash exclaims, frustrated by your apparent lack of empathy.

"For what? Bandits take everything out here. Everyone knows the risks," you reply with a shrug. Frustrated and unwilling to wait for more of your pessimistic reasoning, Vash takes off back in the direction he came from.

"Vash! Really?!" you call after him. You sit back in the car, realizing that even if he succeeds, he'll still have nowhere else to go. You close your eyes and depress the brake pedal, shifting into drive. "God dammit."

By the time you arrive, Vash is already in the midst of the confrontation, swinging left and right, easily incapacitating the bandits. Part of you considers just watching him from the hood of the car; you expected him to have experience, but he's putting on quite the show.

From what you've seen, Vash the Stampede seems like an imbecile. But this Vash, the one with fire in his eyes, has you questioning which side of him is the real one. It also leaves you wondering why you're so mesmerized by the stark contrast between the two.

One of the bandits attempts to sneak up on Vash, wielding a pipe. With a swift flick of your wrist, your dagger pierces the bandit's shoulder. Vash turns at the screams, locking eyes with you after the bandit falls.

"You could help!" he calls out.

"Nope," you shake your head, your elbows resting on the hood. "Looks like you've got it handled." With that, Vash returns his attention to the ongoing fight.

A hand swiftly snatches your wrist, yanking it behind your back, and you hear the unmistakable click of cuffs sealing around your wrists. Startled, you snap your head toward Wolfwood.

"What the hell?! How did you get here?!" you ask, your struggles to break free intensifying. Wolfwood maneuvers you toward the back of the car, exchanging his cross for your presence, and forcefully slams the door shut.

"Nico!" you urgently press your finger to the pad, but the cuffs remain locked. "You overrode my fingerprint?! Nico! Get back here, you bastard!"

Oh, he's definitely hearing your muffled screams, and it's taking everything in him not to burst into laughter as he joins Vash. With the duo reunited the bandits flee the scene in a hurry, disappearing into the horizon.

The pair returns to the car, chatting merrily amongst themselves. "She's right here," Wolfwood announces, opening the car door and pulling you out, but you resist, tugging away from him. Vash's eyes widen in surprise.

"So, she's our captive now?" Vash inquires.

"Great, isn't it? Serves her right," Wolfwood grins.

"Prick."

"Aw, how cute. Like a pomeranian," Wolfwood teases, only for you to retaliate by kicking him in the shin. "Ow!" Wolfwood crumples.

You slink closer to Vash, who tenses up as you look up at him with big, sweet eyes. "Vashie. I've been good to you, haven't I? Please don't let Nico treat me like this. I promise to be good. Please?" you flutter your lashes.

Vash's cheeks burn crimson. He huffs, runs a hand through his hair, groans, and eventually sighs. "Let her go."

"What?!" both you and Wolfwood exclaim in unison.

You can't believe that worked.

He can't believe that worked!

"Are you insane?! She literally kidnapped you! Twice!" Wolfwood protests. "Not to mention stabbed me! Are you seriously—"

"Just unlock it," Vash insists. Wolfwood grumbles but reaches out to unlatch the cuff from one of your wrists. You swiftly pull your hands to the front, sticking your tongue out at Wolfwood.

Click.

Both of you turn, and Vash secures the other cuff to his own wrist. In silence, you examine where you and Vash are now attached.

"Oh, hell no," you declare immediately.

"The hell?"

"Look, she won't go anywhere without me, and now she won't have to. Whether I'm her captive or she's mine doesn't matter because we'll be attached," Vash says, lifting up your wrists and dangling the cuffs for emphasis.

"Absolutely not," you insist.

"What? Needle noggin, she could kill you."

"She hasn't tried to yet. I trust her," Vash responds, looking at you with a smile that makes your heart race.

Gross.

"Nico, get me the hell out of this," you demand.

"No."

"What do you mean no? You just said you were against it."

"I am against it. But it's also the only way to keep an eye on you."

"This isn't—"

"Excuse me," the store owner's voice draws all three of you to attention, and you turn toward them. They offer a warm smile. "Thank you so much for your help. I'd like to repay you with something to eat, but those bandits made off with most of my inventory."

"Oh, it's not a problem at all. But are you alright?" Vash inquires with genuine concern, making you roll your eyes.

"Yes, I'm perfectly fine, thanks to you. However, it is getting late, and the best thing I can offer you is the mattresses in the back. They may not be much, but I think they'll suffice."

"Really? That's incredibly kind of you! Thank you!" Vash beams with gratitude.

Without consulting your opinion, Vash guides, or rather drags, you through the store to a shabby back room. To your dismay, there are only two beds. That means... no. You refuse to entertain that idea.

"Get me the hell—"

"Just deal with it," Wolfwood interjects with a sigh, already claiming the bed on the right.

"You must be tired," Vash says, leading you to the other bed. Reluctantly, you follow.

"Absolutely not. You're sleeping on the floor," you declare, plopping down onto the mattress.

"What?! That's not—"

"Besides, this damn thing's too small for two people anyway. Here," you toss the pillow and blanket onto the floor. "Goodnight," you announce before reclining.

"But won't you get cold?" Vash worries, lifting the blanket back to you.

"I don't get cold," you mutter, closing your eyes. Vash concedes, not wanting to disturb you any further.

It feels as though you're enveloped in a cozy cocoon, warm, soft, and filled with a pleasant scent. You could easily get lost in this comfort.

Slowly, you open your eyes, only to find yourself shrouded in darkness. Rolling over, you notice a sliver of moonlight seeping through a small window, illuminating Wolfwood's back. As if to cruelly remind you of your situation, Vash adds a loud snore to the mix. Dammit.

You shift your attention to the cloud-like sensation you're enveloped in—red. Bright red. Project seeds? It's Vash's damn coat. That sneaky bastard! You fling it away to a corner of the bed and sit up.

"Nico," you whisper, trying not to disturb Vash's sleep. He doesn't budge. "Nico!"

"Hm?" Wolfwood mumbles, slowly rousing.

"I need to pee. Come on, let me out of this thing."

"No. Just wait until morning."

"Nico!"

Wolfwood sighs and rises slowly from the bed, trudging across the room to press his finger to the pad, releasing you.

"Be fast."

"I plan on it," you reply, slipping through the door.

The store is eerily silent, but you hurry through it, your one goal to reach the car. The sight of your car has never filled you with such elation before – freedom at last. The door squeaks as you open it and hop inside.

Finally, it's time to get the hell out of here. Hopefully the two will let their guards down in another week. You shove the key into the ignition.

"I trust her."

Vash's words make you pause. Why the fuck are you hesitating?

"I won't let anything happen to you."

Your forehead collides with the steering wheel. What's wrong with you?

The worn spring mattress creaks as you sit back down. You shift your jaw and pull the cuff back over your wrist, latching it in frustration. Grabbing the discarded coat from the corner, you lie down again. With your eyes scrunched closed, you curse yourself.

Vash smiles.

It blinks blue tonight.

The sweltering heat jolts you awake, and you curse under your breath. Is it morning already? You would've welcomed a few more moments of blissful slumber. You're so comfortable that you could almost forget the world exists.

Your tired eyes flutter open, only to be met with darkness, but it's not the familiar darkness of night. It's the darkness of fabric. You lift your gaze, taking a few moments to comprehend what you're seeing.

Vash.

He's right there in the bed next to you, holding you close as if you might vanish. His gentle yet slightly calloused fingers entwined with yours, bridging the gap between you. The cuff still binds you together, and it's his warmth that's now surrounding you, ensuring you won't succumb to the cold. He holds you with a tenderness that suggests you mean something precious to him.

But something within you rebels.

No.

You shove.

"Whu-ah-uhf!" Vash collides with the floor. "Ouch," he groans. He sits up rubbing the back of his head. "What was that for?!"

"I should be asking you that! Why the hell were you-"

"Keep it down, idiots. It's still morning," Wolfwood says entering the room. He tosses some food onto the bed at your feet.

"Nico! You'd better let me out of this fucking thing right now!" You snap.

"You know that's not gonna happen." Nico sits on the other bed tearing open a new carton of cigarettes.

"Are you kidding me?!" You snap. Something waves around in the corner of your vision. You look down to the donut Vash offers to you with a smile.

"Please, accept this token of my sorryness," he says. With a sigh you take the donut.

Driving with just one hand isn't the smartest move out here in the dunes, but the idea of letting Wolfwood take the wheel? That's a disaster waiting to happen, and you're not about to find out how that might unfold. Plus, the thought of being stuck in the backseat with Vash doesn't sound much better. You shudder at the notion that he might talk your ear off, and the idea of dislocating your wrist to escape the conversation isn't appealing either.

However, as you sit in the front seat, you notice that Vash is remarkably quiet. Wolfwood succumbed to sleep not long after hopping into the car, sparing you from his commentary on Vash's silence. But you won't complain about it either.

When you steal a sideways glance at Vash, you catch a glimpse of a subtle smile on his face, which is somewhat reassuring. Not that you'd admit to caring one way or the other.

The two of them allowed you to take the wheel, as long as you steer clear of July. Instead, you're headed toward some nameless town. Right now, your destination doesn't matter much; all you care about is finding a place with a cold beer waiting for you.

The radio drones on with some evangelical station, filling the silence between the sound of sand against the car. It's becoming tiresome, and you yearn for some music, anything to break the monotony. You ponder the idea of getting some tapes or something. Hell, even Vash's chatter would be an improvement over this drivel. Finally, you decide to take action, reaching out to switch off the radio. Vash's attention finally shifts to you.

"You okay?"

"Oh, I'm just peachy," you reply, your tone heavy with sarcasm. Surprisingly, Vash chuckles.

"Trust me this town is really great. All the people are nice and the food's amazing too. But if you need a break to stretch your legs, I'm all for it."

"No. I'm fine."

"Can I ask you something?"

"I guess."

"Why did you volunteer?"

Damn. You curse yourself for not anticipating his curiosity. After all, he's been alongside Wolfwood this entire time; there's probably nothing he doesn't know.

"It's just… it's what Knives wanted from me."

"Nai forced you?"

"No. Knives saved me and I promised him I'd do anything in return. He waited until the treatment was perfected, and I became his soldier. I… Would do anything for him."

"Does Wolfwood know this?"

"He suspects, but doesn't know the whole story," you say. "I was… Born into a trafficking ring. The day I was meant to go up for auction Knives appeared. He slaughtered them all and saved me. Conrad employed the best fighters to train me and after the treatment was complete, I was perfect. I've taken on every job Knives has ever asked me to."

"I'm sorry. I didn't realize-"

"Save it," you interrupt, cutting him off. "I'm not hung up on it or anything. Besides, I don't blame Nico either. We were all just kids anyway." Wolfwood's gaze drifts out of the window and no one mentions the absence of his snoring.

As the sky begins to paint itself with shades of orange and pink, you roll up to the town. Vash had succumbed to sleep a while ago, but even without his watchful eye, you continued driving to their destination. Like an idiot.

For a bit of gentle revenge, you tap the brakes a little too firmly as you park. Both men jolt forward and groan. "Oh, good, you're up."

"Devil woman," Wolfwood grumbles from the backseat.

"I'm starving," you mutter.

"Come on. I know the perfect place," Vash chimes in with a smile. The three of you step into the lively town, most of its residents hanging out outdoors despite the late hour. Vash moves through the town with an air of contentment, which strikes you as odd, given his bounty.

Unfortunately, the warmth isn't reciprocated by the townspeople. They glance over at you three but quickly sour. Vash remains oblivious, thankfully, but Wolfwood, always the observer, takes a moment to grasp that they're not looking at Vash.

"Are you famous around here?" he inquires of you.

"Something like that," you mutter. Vash raises his head and scans the crowd.

"You've been here before?" Vash asks.

"Once," you reply.

"We don't have to stay—"

"It's fine. They'll still take my money."

"Okay," Vash agrees. "It's just up here."

Vash leads you both around the corner, and you catch sight of the bar. Regrettably, the bounty hunters lurking outside also lock eyes with you.

"Shit," you mutter, grabbing Vash and Wolfwood, pulling them forcefully out of sight.

"Isn't that Millions Knives' favorite little hunter?!" one of the hunters calls out.

"You need to get this off me now," you demand, your voice trembling with urgency.

"What? What's the matter with-" Vash begins, but you cut him off.

"Those are bounty hunters who have spent their lives looking for Vash. They would eat him alive. Unlock it!" Vash turns stiff at your sudden grotesque choice of words, and with a harsh gulp nervously pulls at his collar.

"What's your plan?" Wolfwood asks, his eyes narrowing.

"They won't just let me go. Please, trust me!" you plead desperately. "And get Vash out of here!"

Wolfwood clenches his jaw, processing the danger as the voices that sing-song your name draw nearer. Nico sighs, finally unlocking the cuff.

"I'll find you," you promise, then swiftly retreat back around the corner, leaving the two men.

"Be careful," Vash mutters though he knows you won't hear him.

"Thought that was you!" one of them barks, swaggering toward you with a lopsided grin. "Who're your buddies?"

"Just some damn newbies that won't take a hint," you retort with a cocky edge. "I had to show 'em who's boss and sent 'em running." The bounty hunter laughs, and two more rough-looking figures join the group.

"You're right on time. The real party's just gettin' started," another one says, tossing a meaty arm over your shoulder.

"Really? Is DedRod here?" you inquire, making them erupt in raucous laughter.

"God rest his damn soul," another hunter chimes in.

Inside the bar, your popularity takes a nosedive. They all recognize you and know who you work for, and more importantly, they're well aware of the task he's given you. Their expectations are sky-high, and you realize you'll have to spin a tale of failure, even if that means it gets back to Knives.

"She said she'd nab the Typhoon! Look at her now—still empty-handed!" an old-timer, way past his prime for this gig, spits venomously onto the table.

"Yeah, yeah," you wave him off, the bar erupting into a rowdy chorus. "I've been at this, what, less than a week? How long have you been chasing that ghost? Oh right, a God damn decade! And you're still only chasing your tails." You slam back the rest of your pint, punctuating your point.

Vash and Wolfwood sit at a modest pop-up stand, their meal consumed in silence. Vash stares down into his bowl, the contents as cloudy as he feels. His fingers tighten around the utensil. "Should we have really left her back there?" Vash mumbles, his concern palpable.

"They're bounty hunters. She made the right call," Wolfwood replies firmly. "She knows them. She knows what she's doing."

"I just can't trust it," Vash adds, his worry unabated.

"It? You mean them?" Wolfwood probes.

"You saw the way they acted!" Vash retorts.

"Let it go. She'll be alright," Wolfwood reassures, his confidence unwavering.

Hours later, you stagger through the town, your senses dulled by alcohol. You managed to slip away when the others succumbed to sleep, sprawled wherever they fell. You may not know exactly where you're headed, but you do know you can't stay there. It's best to make your way back to your car; at least you can pass out there.

A hulking figure crosses your path, and a grating voice shatters your blurry thoughts, "What do we have here?" With half-lidded eyes, you meet the man's gaze.

"Move," you slur, attempting to assert yourself.

"Seems like you've had a bit too much to drink. Why don't you come with me? I'll take care of you," the man leers.

"Fuck off. I won't tell you again," you manage to say, trying to sidestep him, but he seizes your arm, yanking you back.

"Don't be like that. I'm just trying to help you," he persists, pulling you closer and grabbing your waist. "Promise I'll be gentle."

"Get the hell away!" You attempt to push him off, but you're drained of strength.

Help... Help... Va-

"Let her go," a chilling voice pierces the night, freezing your heart. "Now!" That signature revolver is now inches from the man's head.

"There's no need for that. You see, my girlfriend here just gets a little feisty after a few drinks," the man smirks.

"I said," Vash cocks back the hammer. "Let her go." Seeing his inevitable defeat, the man releases you with his hands raised. Vash takes your elbow with gentle fingers, his entire demeanor shifting when he looks at you. His blue eyes convey care and concern.

"You okay?" he asks, his presence feeling like a lifeline.

"You're here," you murmur in awe. In this moment, Vash appears as an angel in your eyes. He smiles before turning his attention back to the man, his sweet face now wearing a scowl you've never seen before, almost making him look like—

"Beat it," Vash orders, and the man grumbles as he walks away. Vash lowers his gun and holsters it, returning his full focus to you. "Are you sure you're okay?"

You step closer, burying your face in his chest, fingers gripping his shirt. His scent envelops you, his warmth seeping through your skin. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat pulses through you, comforting you. "Vash."

"What is it?" His hands find your shoulders.

"Vash," you repeat, his name a mantra on your lips. He's here. He came.

Vash tenderly cups your cheeks, tilting your face up. "I'm right here."

"Promise me you won't leave," you implore, your eyes revealing what you can't put into words. It's the fear of losing something you've grown to care for, a fear he knows all too well.

Vash blinks in surprise, taken aback by your request. But nonetheless, he won't refuse. "I promise," Vash assures, as his hand cradles the back of your head, holding you close. "I'll never leave your side."

Wolfwood rounds the corner, spotting the unmistakable red coat. Vash walks down the deserted street, you safely in his embrace. Wolfwood joins you both halfway.

"What the hell happened? I turned around, and you were gone," Wolfwood says, glancing down at you, fast asleep.

"I just... heard her."

"Is she okay?"

"She's fine. Just needs some rest."

"I hear that," Wolfwood says.

Still blue tonight.

THIS IS NOT THE END!

Click the AO3 link to read the full fic!

Thank you ❤

#vash x reader #vash the stampede x reader #trigun fanfiction

29 notes · View notes

ne0nic · 6 months

Text

Our Game

₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ Wriothesley x f!Reader ₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

MDNI

ִ ࣪𖤐 Word Count: 5.2k

ִ ࣪𖤐 CW: NSFW, Dom!Wriothesley, Thief!Reader, Mentions of Human Trafficking, Drugged Tea, Slight Bondage

ִ ࣪𖤐 No use of Y/N, Never use of Y/N

The game is lively tonight and you expect to enjoy it in full.

With effortless grace, you move in and out of the shadows around the Court of Fontaine, becoming a phantom of the night. The deserted streets are a ripe playground, businesses closed, doors and windows locked, and the guards drowsy and inattentive. It's a realm of exhilarating opportunity, just waiting for you to claim.

Your destination is the side door of the antique jewelry shop, known as the last source of pride for an elderly proprietor. Your knowledge of every shop in the city is impeccable, following a mistake where you learned that it's unwise to steal from a Fatui-owned establishment; it's akin to pilfering from the Tsaritsa herself.

With a few deft movements, you manipulate the lock, and the door swings open without a sound. The shop's interior is as silent as a tomb, its owners having long retired for the evening. You enter, your eyes alight with anticipation.

You navigate the shop's layout like a child in a candy store, your gaze drawn to the glass cases showcasing a myriad of jewels, each one casting a beguiling shimmer. With nimble fingers, you open the case and select a ring featuring a sizable ruby. You slip it onto your finger, admiring the deep red luster. The ring itself is far from delicate, clearly designed for a more masculine hand – someone like…

You quickly remove the ring, tossing it into your bag. No point dwelling on such thoughts; it's time to collect your treasures and make your exit. You work swiftly, carefully placing necklaces and bracelets into your waiting bag, ensuring the displays remain untouched.

The unmistakable sound of heavy boots approaching makes you freeze in place, listening to the resonant thud of leather shoes and the subtle jingle of chains and cuffs. It's time to depart. You wrap up your mission with meticulous precision, and as swiftly as you had arrived, you vanish into the night. Peering from the safety of an alley, you remain silent, unable to spot the approaching figure. Even worse, you're uncertain of the direction from which he's drawing near.

Taking on the rooftop is undoubtedly the better choice. Climbing up the copper gutter pipe, you gain a sweeping view of the city from the high vantage point. From here, you can easily traverse the rooftops, leaping across buildings and making swift progress. As the immediate danger lessens, you descend to the streets below.

Suddenly, that distinct sound returns, the one signaling his presence. How did he catch up to you so fast? It's time for plan B. You snatch a dark cloak from a nearby stall and quickly drape it over yourself, making a dash for the nearest stationed Garde.

"Oh! Garde! Monsieur!" you implore, rushing up to the uniformed soldier. The young man, evidently new to the force, turns his attention to you with an eager desire to assist.

"Madame? What's the problem?" he inquires, clearly willing to help.

"I was just at the tavern getting a drink, and I think a strange man is following me! Please, help me!" You plead, ensuring fear reflects in your eyes.

"Do not worry, ma'am. I will take care of this," he assures, stepping around you to face the direction of the approaching footsteps.

"Oh! Thank you so much, Monsieur," you say, masking your sly grin as you slip away.

The guard stands firm, ready to protect the innocent young woman who has placed her trust in him, aligning with the oath to safeguard all citizens of Fontaine. His excitement is palpable.

A shadow emerges in the dimly lit street, advancing slowly. The young Garde stands at attention. "You there! I'd like a word with you!" he calls out.

The approaching figure steps into the light, revealing a large, menacing man. He possesses piercing blue eyes, is adorned with chains and has a pair of handcuffs hanging at his side. His coat is casually slung over his back, and a scar stretches from the base of his neck, disappearing under his clothing.

The young Garde recognizes the man and instantly locks up. "Y-Your Grace! My apologies! I mistook you for a suspect!"

"Suspect? What gave you that idea?" the man inquires, tilting his head gently.

"This young lady, she—" The Garde turns, only to find that you've vanished. "Where'd she go?"

"A woman?" he asks.

"Y-Yes, a woman. She claimed a man was following her," the Garde explains. The man, who moments ago wore a serious expression, breaks into a smirk and chuckles softly.

You've successfully ascended the tower, fully prepared to make your getaway into the cover of the night. Luckily, tonight's escape had proven effortless, and you hadn't even needed to trigger an alarm to elude the Duke of the Fortress of Meropide. He must be accustomed to your flamboyant tricks by now. The two of you had been engaged in this thrilling game for so long that you constantly had to innovate new ways to lead him astray. However, you'd come to find that the simplest tricks were the most enjoyable, especially after the sheer madness you'd put him through as you slipped away.

As you make your way toward freedom, a hand wraps firmly around your wrist, pressing your back into the wall. He looms above you, an unamused expression on his face. The way his stunning eyes seem to gleam in the dim light sends a shiver down your spine.

"Hello, darling," you taunt.

"Give it up. I'm taking you in," he declares with unwavering determination.

"That's what you always say," you mutter, causing him to grit his teeth.

"The bag," he demands, extending his hand.

"You're no fun," you pout, pulling the strap over your head and placing it in his palm. Wriothesley keeps you cornered as he opens the satchel, only to find it empty—no jewels, necklaces, or even a few coins. "Trouble?" you ask with a smirk.

"Where are the jewels?" he asks bluntly.

"What jewels?" you play innocent. He grabs your arms, pressing you firmly against the wall.

"I'm not in the mood for this today," he growls.

"But I'm completely innocent, Your Grace," you say with wide, doe eyes. "Little old me? A thief? Isn't it wrong to accuse someone without any evidence?"

"Enough!" he snaps, pushing you closer, your chests almost touching. You can feel the way his heart races, how you make him nervous. It sends a thrill through you.

"Or was there a different reason you followed me tonight, Your Grace?" you inquire, leaning forward. Your lips are mere inches apart. He tries to hide the way his breath hitches, but your smirk widens. "Did you want me all to yourself? You could've just asked. I'd never refuse." You tease him with expert precision, knowing precisely what to say and do to provoke him. You close the distance even further, his eyes locked onto your lips. Your breaths mingled so closely that your lips could touch if either of you moved even slightly. And just when it seems like he can't take it any longer, you pull away. "Forgive me, Your Grace. Sometimes I forget you're a man of the law, dedicated to your work. Surely, you're far too busy for me to take up any more of your time."

"Shut up," he snaps, closing the gap between you in an instant. He captures your lips, instantly stealing your breath away. His kisses are demanding, his desire to take the lead palpable, and you willingly submit to his commanding presence. His teeth graze along your bottom lip, eliciting a breathy, barely audible moan from you. You press your thighs together, utterly captivated by the way this man has the power to make you unravel. His longing for you has always had the ability to make you tremble, particularly in moments like these, when the game between you two reaches its zenith, when he finally catches you, and both of your desires hit you without reserve.

His hand raises to the back of your neck, tilting your head up, giving him more of you. He's going mad. He has to be. There must be some kind of spell or pheromone that you've cast over him, that makes him need you desperately. Everytime you're before him like this, his morals fly out the window, and his lust becomes so thick he can't resist. He's well aware of the moral dilemma that plagues him. You're a true criminal, through and through, and he's fully cognizant of the wrongdoing of his actions. However, he never feels the exhilaration of the chase as intensely as he does when it's with you.

The tranquil sound of water churning brings you back to the present moment. Regrettably, it's time for you to make your exit. Your fingers slide over his vest pocket, and Wriothesley's brow furrows as you withdraw from the kiss.

"Gotta run," you murmur, slipping out of his grasp and collecting your discarded bag. Wriothesley's brows knit as you head toward the boat.

"Wait!" He attempts to step forward but is abruptly pulled back. He turns, only to discover that you've cuffed him to the service pipes. With a frustrated grunt, he struggles against the cuffs, and something falls out of his pocket. He gazes downward, finding a jewel necklace on the ground. Lifting his head to you again, you turn back to him with a playful smile.

"I had fun."

"Dammit!" He curses, his bracers materializing on his hand as he strikes through his own cuffs. Finally free, he makes a dash toward the boat. But the ferry has already set off, and he can only huff in frustration as you slip away.

Again.

Your fingers trace over the ledger, where rows upon rows of names denote inmates at the Fortress of Meropide. However, none of them match the one you're seeking. You can't help but wonder how many trivial offenses landed people in this imposing place.

Infiltrating the fortress itself was a relatively straightforward affair. They treat their prisoners well down here, making escape seem an improbable feat. Most inmates are cowed by the mere sight of the glass barrier that separates them from the relentless ocean outside. However, gaining entry was an entirely different challenge. Infiltrating the Duke's office, that's where things get tricky. Luckily, your familiarity with the office makes the entry a minor concern, especially when you have a duplicate key at your disposal.

"I'm assuming you didn't come for tea," a voice intones behind you. His hand closes the ledger's cover and rests atop it. Veins course through his arm and hand, and his knuckles are rough and calloused. You push away the inappropriate thoughts that threaten to surface.

"Should I even ask how you got in?" he continues, but you maintain your silence, choosing not to respond. Playing along with him today is the last thing on your mind.

"Who are you looking for?" he gets straight to the point.

"An...associate of mine went missing a few days ago. I was merely curious if he happened to be in your custody," you reply. He picks up the ledger and moves to the other side of his desk to set it down.

"Associate, huh? I thought you worked alone."

"I do," you confirm.

"His name?"

"As if I'd give you that. I'm not here to further incriminate him; I need to secure his swift release."

"Then it seems I can't help you," he states.

"You've never helped me," you correct, to which he chuckles.

"Touche."

"I brought you more of that blend you like," you say, gesturing toward the cabinet.

"Paid for with the proceeds from the jewels?" he questions, a hint of darkness in his tone. You smirk.

"I don't recall any jewels. It's simply a friendly gift, a favor for a favor," you reply, reveling in how his eyes narrow at your words.

"And what favor have I done for you?" he inquires, already knowing the answer. He's trying to ensnare you with your own words.

"I'll prepare a cup for you, dear. You seem weary," you offer, turning toward the cabinet. He's beside you in an instant, gripping your wrist.

"I wouldn't trust you to make anything for me," he snaps, making you smirk.

"Do you truly believe I'd do anything to harm you?" you ask in a feigned tone of surprise. You notice the tension in his jaw and your gaze drifts lower to the scar on his chest, which barely peeks above his clothing, triggering memories of that fateful day. "...Anymore?"

"Go sit down," he orders, and you pull away from his grasp.

"Yes, Your Grace," you say as you step over to the table. Outside the window, the vast expanse of the ocean unfolds, with creatures moving freely, seemingly unconcerned with the curse that hangs over the people of this nation.

You can't help but envy them, particularly after the arrival of that blonde-haired traveler, which marked the beginning of a downward spiral.

"I would like—"

"Three sugar cubes, I know," he interjects, causing a subtle smile to play on your lips.

"What time will the Iudex be arriving? I'd hate to be a bother," you inquire, knowing full well that you've committed his schedule to memory. He sighs, realizing there's no use concealing it from you.

"He won't be. Monsieur Neuvillette had a sudden trial, so he's rescheduled for next week," he admits, an air of candor coloring his response.

"What a shame. That blend is best served fresh," you murmur, your gaze drifting back to the water. A few moments later, he joins you at the table, the gentle clinking of teacups and saucers filling the air. You eagerly pick up your cup.

"I must admit I only ever have tea with you," you confess.

"Oh?" He raises an eyebrow as he settles into his seat. He observes you as you bring the cup to your lips and take a sip. Only then does he feel comfortable enough to indulge in his tea.

"It's true," you affirm, setting the cup down. "I always believe tea deserves to be enjoyed in good company."

"You don't have any other good company?" he inquires.

"None quite like you," you reply with a smile.

"Your clever quips won't get you out of here, you know."

"You think I'm clever?" You tease with a playful glint in your eyes.

"I don't intend to just let you walk out of here."

"You never have, not until I was properly sore and had trouble walking the next day," you taunt, taking another sip, causing him to gulp down his tea. His hands clench as you speak.

"Enough. This... arrangement we had is over. I'm taking you in. I'll inform Neuvillette of your transgressions, and you'll face justice," he declares, his tone stern.

"And then I'll find myself right back under your vigilant watch. Is that what you desire? To keep me close? Ensure that we'll never be apart again?" You tease. His jaw tightens. "I thought you relished our little game as much as I did."

"Game?! You're stealing from people!" His anger is palpable now.

You roll your eyes, reaching into your jacket and producing a document, which you slap onto the table. He leans back, perplexed. "And what is this?"

"The justification you seek. The part of you that yearns to believe I'm not entirely malevolent, this is your evidence."

"I don't understand."

"You will," you assure him. The grandfather clock in the corner begins to chime, marking the appointed time.

"It's time for me to go."

"What?" he blurts out.

You rise from the table with alacrity. "Thank you for the tea. I had a lovely time." You begin to walk away, and he suddenly springs to his feet. However, dizziness overtakes him, and he barely catches himself as the world blurs around him. Overwhelming drowsiness renders his legs wobbly, and he finds himself on his knees, struggling to resist it.

"When?" he manages to mumble.

"It was your teacup. You always use the same one," you giggle. He exhales in frustration. You draw closer.

"Don't worry. I'd never harm you. You're just going to have a short nap."

His hand grasps your wrist. "Don't go," he pleads, his desperation evident. It ignites a spark in your heart, prompting you to sink to your knees, cupping his cheeks.

"Well, when you ask so sweetly like that, how can I resist?" you murmur before pressing your lips to his. "Listen to Siegewinne, dear. You've been appearing quite exhausted lately. But I hope you'll feel better when you awaken. And on top of that," your gaze drifts toward the document, "you might see me in a different light the next time we meet."

After a lengthy and exasperating lecture from Siegewinne, Wriothesley finally returns to his office. It appears that you were telling the truth; it was merely a sleeping drug, and by the time he awoke, you had vanished. He didn't provide Siegewinne with many details about your encounter, nor did he delve into any in-depth discussion about you.

He sinks back into his chair, holding a cool washcloth to his forehead. You had been here, well within his grasp, and yet, once again, he found himself incapable of fulfilling the very duty he had sworn to uphold. It frustrates him to no end. Every time you make an appearance, it catches him off guard. However, when he saw you inspecting his office, for a brief moment, he had hoped you were there for him alone. Alas, that's never the case.

To make matters worse, you've infiltrated his dreams. Every time he closes his eyes, there you are, bare beneath him, your cheeks adorned with a charming flush. Your hands tenderly caress his face, and he takes you with a gentleness and passion that starkly contrasts the reality of your late-night rendezvous. Normally, he's rough with you, mirroring your intensity rather than expressing love.

The thought of you alone is enough to stir his desires, and he curses himself. You had drugged him not long ago, yet he's back to square one. Removing the washcloth, he stares at the ceiling, hoping his little problem will subside on its own. He replays the recent events in his mind, striving to rekindle his anger instead of his lust.

"You might see me in a different light the next time we meet."

What did you mean by that? How could he perceive you differently? His gaze drifts to the desk, where the document you left behind rests. He leans forward, scoops up the folded papers, and breaks the wax seal. As he peruses the contents, his heart sinks.

The elderly man who owns the jewelry shop was using it to launder money from human trafficking sales. You appraised numerous items and recorded their selling prices. You even managed to gather evidence of the boats at the marina being involved in the conspiracy. Photos, evidence—everything is meticulously compiled within these documents. This alone must have taken you weeks. A small note is clipped to the last page, the page itself revealing the location where the captors are holding their victims.

Without jewels, there are no sales. I have bought you time, Warden. Do not disappoint me.

He rises from his desk, his mind racing with thoughts of what to do next.

The entirety of Fontaine's police force is mobilized for this operation, simultaneously raiding all the identified targets. Wriothesley, however, personally takes charge of the most significant arrest. With a sense of duty, he apprehends the elderly man, promptly handcuffs him, and pushes him toward the exit.

Outside, the ever-dramatic residents of Fontaine have congregated, forming a boisterous audience to witness this spectacle. The vigilant Gardes work diligently to keep the curious onlookers at bay as he escorts the man outside. His eyes inadvertently scan the crowd.

A sudden pause overcomes him as he catches sight of you. A sly smile graces your lips as you knowingly meet his gaze, and then, with your characteristic grace, you disappear into the crowd, leaving him with a sense of intrigue.

About a week later, following the court's verdict and the subsequent exile to the Fortress, you make a return. Leaning casually on his desk, you patiently await his arrival. As he trudges up the steps, his demeanor brightens in pleasant surprise at the unexpected sight of you. There's a trace of solemnity in your smile as your eyes meet his.

Setting his report down, he approaches you, his curiosity evident in his tone. "You've been gone for a while."

"I had some important matters to attend to," you explain. "The victims who were kidnapped are now under the care of the Spina di Rosula. Most of them are just awaiting reunions with their families. Convincing a few to testify during the trial was a bit challenging, but I'm relieved it's come to a favorable resolution. The Spina di Rosula has pledged to hunt down the buyers, and I've provided them with all the information I could gather."

"Why not have the Spina di Rosula collaborate with the Garde?" he inquires.

"You and I both know that would never happen."

"What now?" he asks.

"My job is done, and I've cut my few remaining ties. All that remains," you say, raising his cuffs, "is you, Your Grace." He takes the cuffs from you, studying them with furrowed brows. As you lift your hands toward him, he glances from the cuffs to your wrists.

With a resounding clack, the cuffs land on the desk. The gravity of this decision settles upon you, hiding within it the unspoken message he wishes to convey. Slowly, you lower your hands as he fixes his gaze on you, drawing dangerously near.

"You're making a mistake," you caution.

"I know," he responds before pulling you closer and capturing your lips in a passionate kiss.

In a matter of seconds you both burst into his bedroom, lips locked, jackets falling to the floor. Your nimble fingers are quick on the buttons of his vest as he backs you towards the bed. He pulls your shirt upwards, his rough hands riding up your front. Once one hand finds your breast you moan into his mouth. His ice cold touch electrifies you. He rids you of your shirt and pushes you down onto the bed. His gray vest falls to the floor leaving him looking seductively disheveled in just his black button up.

The tip of your nail fits between your teeth as you devour him with your eyes. "You're going too slow," you whine, reaching a hand out. Your fingers trail over his shirt, feeling every curve of his muscles just beneath the fabric. It has you aching for him. He reaches up, tugging his tie free from his neck. You light up, obediently offering your other wrist to him too.

"If I didn't know any better I'd think you'd liked being my prisoner," he says, leaning closer as he ties the red fabric around your wrists.

"Don't threaten me with a good time," you tease, leaning in as well. His gaze falls to your lips before lifting your arms over your head and guiding you to lay on your back. From there he spreads your thighs, fitting himself between. Pressing your lips tight together, you resist the urge to beg. Even a small bit of friction would be heavenly, but it doesn't come. Instead he slowly strips your bottom half, taking his sweet time to admire your panties before just snapping them off your hips.

He sinks to his knees, lips caressing your inner thigh. Your hands find their way to your mouth trying to muffle your own weak whimpers as he trails towards your core. Where you want him the most.

Just as his breath ghosts over your aching cunt he stops. Suddenly his hand wraps around the tie and shoves it upwards again. "Do not move them again, if you do you can forget about my earlier mistake. I'll take you in, right now, like this," he threatens in a husky voice, eyes boring into yours. You smirk, lifting your thigh to rub against his hip.

"Like this, Your Grace? How scandalous," you tease.

"Do you understand?" he demands.

"Yes."

"Yes, what?" He snaps.

"Yes, sir," you say, your voice growing weaker.

"Good girl," he praises, and you know you're soaked down there. Cheeks tinged red and heart racing as he sinks back down your body. He lifts your thighs over his shoulders before tugging you in one last time. Torturously slow he gives a chaste kiss to your clit. You resist the urge to pull your arms back down as a groan leaves your lips, your body involuntarily twitching. Wriothesley smirks at the display. It's as if he's trained your body to fall apart at just his touch, something he carries with pride.

His tongue dives between your folds, and you throw your head back with a sinful moan. The man below you is terrifyingly good with his tongue and fingers which makes his next move a damning one.

Two fingers easily slide into you, but he makes sure not to curve them into the place you like. Instead he watches the way you writhe, almost trying to force his fingers that way, the pleasure making you dizzy. Pathetic moans and whimpers pass your lips, music to his ears.

"Please… fuck— mh."

"What was that?" He mutters. "I couldn't hear you." His fingers slow to a cruel rub.

"I wanna cum. Please," you beg.

"Really?... I don't know if you deserve to," he says, his voice dropping a few octaves. The voice change drives you, making him smirk as he feels you tighten. "After all, you didn't tell me what you were up to. You worked outside the law, you could've gotten yourself hurt. Now, that… I just can't seem to forgive." He crooks one finger up slightly, sending you spiraling.

"I'm sorry… I'm sorry! I won't do it again," you promise. He slowly rises to his feet, fingers still deep inside you. Wriothesley leans over your trembling frame. His hand caresses your cheek with a tender touch. The coolness of his fingers on your burning cheek is practically bliss.

"Now, how can I believe you? You've broken every other promise you've made to me," he says tauntingly. Fuck! You hate him. You know what he's trying to do, and he knows how desperate you are, enough to agree to any of his demands. He brings your diverting gaze back to his.

"No more secrets," you agree, making him sigh.

"Now, was that so hard?" He asks, pressing right there making your head go fuzzy. You gasp in surprise as his fingers pull you apart all over again, the familiar sensation pooling within you. Wriothesley presses his lips to yours, tongue forcing its way into your mouth so he can still hear your gasping moans. "Cum, pretty girl." Your body shudders in the wake of your orgasm, and he doesn't relent, driving you oversensitive in a matter of moments. Your hands grab his wrist, stopping him as you still ride out the end of your orgasm. He smirks and pulls his fingers out. You feel the tie release your wrists.

He's gentle as he lifts your face, seeing the dazed, blissed out expression you wear. His lips peck around your cheeks, to your neck, to your collar, and them to your shoulders by the time your high fades.

"Back with me?" He asks lifting your chin, you nod and he slots his lips against yours while opening your legs again. He fits himself between them and pulls on his belt with one hand, something you don't mind helping him with. He chuckles as he feels you desperately pull his pants open. His aching cock springs free hard and hot in your palm as you stroke him. His forehead sinks to your shoulder as he shudders, slightly thrusting into your touch. "Shit."

"Hurry," you urge. Lifting himself up he positions himself so the head just barely brushes against you. You press your lips together.

Wriothesley reaches upwards, his hand sliding down your arm until he can fit his fingers between yours. Then he thrusts. His other hand grips your hip so tight you pray there will be a bruise. He stretches you open, forcing you to take his size, your eyes roll back into your head.

"Fuck!" You cry out as he bottoms out. He starts with slow shallow thrusts but his patience quickly wears thin. In no time he's snapping his hips forward, rocking the bed, shoving himself deeper inside you. It's predatory, the way he heaves, the way he takes, the way his fingers grip your hair and hold your head up to make you watch him fuck your brains out.

In practically no time at all you're cumming again, but he doesn't slow down, his own orgasm approaching as he feels you clench down on him. The continued force of his thrusts sends you right into a second orgasm and he follows suit. Your cunt milks him for all he's worth. Every drop belongs to you.

He belongs to you.

"Just fucking be mine already," he groans. His words break through your hazy mind in an instant.

"What?"

"Fuck," he mutters. "You're gonna make me say it outright, aren't you?" He leans over fingers brushing over your cheek. "Stay with me. Be with me."

Your heart feels as if it may beat out of your chest as he says it. His cold eyes are now strikingly warm and tender. But you don't know what to say.

Instead you reach up, hands pulling his face down to yours. He complies easily. You kiss him sweetly, whispering against his lips, "I'm yours."

Your confirmation makes his heart sing as he kisses you with more fervor, growing hard inside you once more. The first thrust catches you by surprise but you're loving it. This time there's nothing rough about the way he holds you. He treats you softly, like you'll break if he's any harder. He holds your body in tight to his, burying himself deep inside you, until you're seeing stars.

The clock chimes, marking the hour as Wriothesley opens his eyes. To his dismay the spot next to him is empty. He rubs his face, already stressed that you've disappeared like usual. Unfortunately, maybe he was foolish enough to hope for something more from you.

Sitting up he finally notices the weight on his finger. A ring, a gigantic red ruby within a thick band. The metal is dark and the design is intricate. Honestly, it truly seems like something he'd wear.

Peering over to your side one more time his eyes widen as he sees a folded up paper. With one hand he retrieves it and flips it open.

My secrets come at a cost, Your Grace. So, if you manage to catch me Thursday night, I might consider telling you one or two. Preferably over tea.

I'll be expecting you.

He laughs to himself, "So, the chase is still on, huh? Better make it interesting."

#wriothesley x reader

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