#37 brooks

[pucksandpower]

Pride and Prejudice and Bullets

mafia boss!Max Verstappen x professor!Reader

Summary: your life is predictable — revolving around teaching about Jane Austen novels and grading term papers — and you like it that way … until an old classmate makes a sudden appearance that turns everything upside down

Warnings: minor character death

The sharp rap at the door jolts you from your late-night reading. You glance at the clock — 2:37 AM. Who could it possibly be at this ungodly hour?

Cautiously, you approach the door, peering through the peephole. Your heart skips a beat. Is that ... no, it couldn’t be. But as you swing the door open, there he stands — the boy who vanished from your high school without a trace nearly a decade ago.

“Max?” You breathe, scarcely believing your eyes.

He doesn’t respond, just pushes past you into the apartment, one hand pressed firmly against his side. As he moves, you catch a glimpse of crimson seeping through his fingers, staining what looks like an absurdly expensive shirt.

“Jesus, Max, what happened to you?” You gasp, instinctively reaching out.

He flinches away from your touch, his eyes wild. “I hear you’re a doctor now. Do your doctor stuff,” Max barks the order at you, his voice rough with pain.

You blink, momentarily stunned. “I’m a doctor of British Literature! What are you even doing here? How do you know my address? Why are you here?”

“Needed a doctor, you’re a doctor,” he grunts, stumbling toward your couch.

The reality of the situation starts to sink in. “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, I need to call an ambulance.”

“No,” Max snaps, his tone brooking no argument. “Don’t. Are you stupid? I’m here because I can’t go to a hospital.”

Your mind races, torn between concern and confusion. “Yes, right, fuck, I should call the cops. Why do you know my address?”

“Wound. Fix it,” he growls through gritted teeth.

“Yes! Wound. Uhhhh, take off your shirt?” You stammer, fumbling for your phone. “I need to Google this- oh my god that’s disgusting, oh fuck, is the bullet still in there?”

Max’s eyes narrow. “You really don’t know what you’re doing, do you?”

“Of course I don’t!” You exclaim, your voice rising in pitch. “I write papers on Jane Austen, not ... whatever this is!”

He groans, both from pain and exasperation. “Fine. First aid kit. You have one?”

You nod frantically, dashing to the bathroom. When you return, Max has managed to unbutton his shirt, revealing a nasty wound just below his ribs.

“Okay,” he says, his voice steadier now. “Antiseptic. Clean the wound.”

With shaking hands, you do as he instructs, trying not to gag at the sight of so much blood. “Max, please, what’s going on? How did this happen?”

He ignores your questions. “Tweezers. The bullet’s still in there. You need to get it out.”

“What? No! I can’t — I’ll hurt you!”

A humorless laugh escapes him. “Trust me, it already hurts. Just do it.”

Swallowing hard, you position the tweezers. Max’s hand shoots out, gripping your wrist. “Wait,” he says, fumbling in his pocket with his free hand. He produces a flask, takes a long swig, then nods. “Okay. Go.”

You take a deep breath and plunge in. Max’s entire body goes rigid, a string of curses flowing from his lips that would make a sailor blush. After what feels like an eternity, you feel the tweezers catch on something.

“I think I’ve got it,” you whisper.

“Then pull it out,” Max hisses.

With a sickening squelch, you extract the bullet. Max lets out a strangled groan, then goes limp.

“Max?” You say, panic rising in your throat. “Max!”

His eyes flutter open. “I’m fine. Just ... give me a minute.”

As you clean and dress the wound, a tense silence falls between you. Finally, unable to bear it any longer, you speak. “Max, please. What’s going on? I haven’t seen you in years, and now you show up at my door in the middle of the night with a bullet wound?”

He sighs, pushing himself up into a sitting position. “It’s ... complicated.”

“No shit,” you retort. “Start talking. Now.”

Max runs a hand through his hair, wincing at the movement. “After I left school, I got mixed up in some ... stuff. Bad stuff. It was supposed to be temporary, just a way to make some quick cash. But things ... escalated.”

“Escalated how?” You press.

He meets your gaze, his eyes hard. “You really want to know?”

You nod, not trusting yourself to speak.

“I run the Dutch Crime Syndicate now,” he says flatly.

You can’t help it — you laugh. It’s a high, slightly hysterical sound. “The Dutch Crime Syndicate? Are you serious? That sounds like something out of a bad movie.”

“Does this look like a joke to you?” Max gestures to his wound.

The laughter dies in your throat. “Oh god. You’re serious.”

He nods grimly. “Dead serious. And now you know why I couldn’t go to a hospital. Too many questions.”

“But ... why me?” You ask, still struggling to process this information. “We were barely even friends in school.”

Max shifts uncomfortably. “I ... kept tabs on people from back then. When I heard you’d become a doctor-”

“A doctor of literature,” you interject.

He rolls his eyes. “When I heard you had become a ‘doctor,’ I made a note of it. Just in case. Never thought I’d actually need to use that information, but ... here we are.”

You shake your head, trying to clear it. “This is insane. You’re insane. I should be calling the police right now.”

“But you won’t,” Max says quietly.

“And why’s that?”

He looks at you, really looks at you, for the first time since he arrived. “Because you’re curious. Because part of you, whether you want to admit it or not, is excited by this. By me showing up and shaking up your nice, safe, predictable life.”

You open your mouth to protest, then close it again. He’s not entirely wrong.

“So what happens now?” You ask instead.

Max shrugs, then immediately regrets it, judging by his wince. “Now, I rest for a bit, then I leave. And you go back to your life of Jane Austen and tea cozies.”

“That’s it?” You can’t keep the disappointment out of your voice.

He raises an eyebrow. “What were you expecting? That I’d sweep you off your feet and into a life of crime?”

“No, of course not,” you say quickly. Too quickly.

A slow smile spreads across Max’s face. “Well, well. Maybe there’s more to you than meets the eye, Y/N.”

You feel your cheeks heat up. “Shut up. You’re delirious from blood loss.”

“Maybe,” he concedes. “Or maybe I’m seeing clearly for the first time in years.”

There’s a charged moment of silence between you. Then Max groans, breaking the spell. “God, I sound like a bad romance novel. Must be the whiskey talking.”

You can’t help but laugh. “Well, you did show up bleeding on my doorstep in the middle of the night. It’s all very dramatic.”

“What can I say? I aim to please,” Max quips, then turns serious. “Look, Y/N ... thank you. For helping me. For not calling the cops. I know I don’t deserve it.”

“No, you probably don’t,” you agree. “But ... I’m glad you came. As crazy as this all is, it’s ... nice to see you again.”

Max’s expression softens. “Yeah. It’s nice to see you too.”

Another silence falls, but this one is comfortable, almost companionable. Finally, Max speaks again. “I should go. I’ve already put you in enough danger.”

“Wait,” you say, surprising yourself. “You’re in no condition to go anywhere. At least stay until morning.”

He hesitates, clearly torn. “I shouldn’t ...”

“Please,” you insist. “For my peace of mind, if nothing else.”

Max searches your face, then nods slowly. “Okay. But just until morning.”

As you help him settle more comfortably on the couch, you can’t shake the feeling that your life has just irrevocably changed. For better or worse remains to be seen, but one thing’s for certain — it’s going to be one hell of a ride.

***

The early morning sunlight filters through your curtains, rousing you from a fitful sleep. For a blissful moment, you forget the events of last night. Then reality comes crashing back, and you bolt upright in bed.

Max. The wound. The Dutch Crime Syndicate.

You groan, burying your face in your hands. What were you thinking? In the harsh light of day, the whole situation seems utterly insane.

Steeling yourself, you pad out to the living room. Max is still there, sprawled on your couch, his chest rising and falling steadily. He looks younger in sleep, almost vulnerable. It’s hard to reconcile this image with the hardened criminal he claims to be.

As if sensing your presence, Max’s eyes flutter open. He winces as he tries to sit up.

“Morning,” he grunts.

“How’s the wound?” You ask, your voice carefully neutral.

Max prods at his side gingerly. “Better than it has any right to be, thanks to you.”

You nod, then take a deep breath. “Max, about last night ...”

He holds up a hand, cutting you off. “I know what you’re going to say. And you’re right. This was a mistake. I shouldn’t have come here.”

“No, you shouldn’t have,” you agree, relief washing over you. “Look, I won’t tell anyone about this. But I think it’s best if we just ... pretend this never happened. You should go, and we should forget we ever saw each other again.”

Max nods slowly, his expression unreadable. “If that’s what you want.”

“It is,” you say firmly, trying to ignore the small part of you that’s screaming in protest.

He starts to gather his things, moving stiffly. You turn away, heading to the kitchen to make coffee, needing something to do with your hands.

That’s when you hear it. The sharp crack of a gunshot, followed by the tinkling of shattered glass.

You freeze, your heart pounding. “Max?” You call out, voice barely above a whisper.

“Get down!” He shouts back. You drop to the floor just as another bullet whizzes overhead, embedding itself in your kitchen cabinets.

Max is at your side in an instant, his earlier stiffness forgotten. “We need to move. Now.”

“What’s happening?” You ask, your voice shaking.

“Rivals,” Max says grimly. “They must have followed me here. I’m so sorry, Y/N. I never meant to put you in danger.”

Before you can respond, there’s a thunderous banging at your front door. “Open up!” A gruff voice shouts. “We know you’re in there, Max Emilian!”

Max’s face hardens. “The Silver Arrows,” he mutters. “Persistent bastards.”

“What do we do?” You whisper, panic threatening to overwhelm you.

Max’s eyes dart around the room, assessing. “Is there a fire escape?”

You nod. “Through the bedroom window.”

“Okay,” he says, his voice calm and authoritative. “Here’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to make a run for it. Stay low, stay behind me. Got it?”

You nod again, not trusting yourself to speak.

“On my count,” Max says. “Three ... two ... one ... GO!”

You scramble to your feet, keeping low as Max leads the way to your bedroom. The banging on the door intensifies, accompanied by the sound of splintering wood.

“They’re breaking through!” You gasp.

“Almost there,” Max says through gritted teeth. He throws open your bedroom window, then turns to you. “Ladies first.”

You hesitate for a split second, then clamber out onto the fire escape. The metal is cold beneath your bare feet, and you realize with a start that you’re still in your pajamas.

Max follows close behind, pulling the window shut just as you hear your front door give way.

“Down,” he hisses, guiding you towards the ladder.

You descend as quickly as you can, your hands shaking so badly you nearly lose your grip more than once. Max is right behind you, his presence oddly reassuring despite the circumstances.

As your feet hit the alley below, you hear shouts from above. “There they are!”

“Run!” Max yells, grabbing your hand and pulling you along.

You sprint down the alley, your bare feet slapping against the cold pavement. Bullets ping off the walls around you, and you let out an involuntary scream.

“Keep going,” Max urges. “There’s a car around the corner.”

“A car?” You pant. “How do you know?”

“I always have an exit strategy,” he says, a hint of pride in his voice despite the situation.

Sure enough, as you round the corner, you see a sleek black car idling at the curb. A man in a dark suit is behind the wheel, looking tense.

“Get in!” Max shouts, practically shoving you into the backseat before diving in after you.

The car peels away from the curb before Max even has the door closed. You’re thrown back against the seat as the driver weaves through traffic at breakneck speed.

“What the hell, Max?” You finally manage to say, your heart still racing. “Who were those people? Where are we going?”

Max runs a hand through his hair, looking more rattled than you’ve seen him yet. “Those were the Silver Arrows. They’ve been trying to muscle in on our territory for months. As for where we’re going ...” He exchanges a look with the driver in the rearview mirror. “Somewhere safe. For now.”

You let out a hysterical laugh. “Safe? I don’t even know what that word means anymore. My apartment just got shot up! I’m in my pajamas in the back of a strange car, running from a gang war. This is insane!”

“I know,” Max says softly. “And I’m sorry. This is exactly what I was trying to avoid by leaving last night.”

“Well, bang-up job on that one,” you snap.

The driver clears his throat. “Boss, we’ve got a tail. Two cars, about three blocks back.”

Max curses under his breath. “Can you lose them, Daniel?”

The driver — Daniel, apparently — nods grimly. “I can try. Hang on.”

The car suddenly swerves, cutting across three lanes of traffic. Horns blare as Daniel takes a sharp right turn, tires squealing.

You’re thrown against Max, who instinctively wraps an arm around you to keep you steady. Despite everything, you can’t help but notice how solid he feels, how good he smells ...

No. Focus. You shake your head, trying to clear it.

“Max,” you say, your voice steadier than you feel. “I need you to be straight with me. What exactly is going on here?”

He sighs, his arm still around you. “It’s complicated.”

“Un-complicate it,” you demand.

Max is quiet for a moment, seemingly weighing his words. “The Dutch Crime Syndicate ... we’re not just petty criminals. We’re big. International. And lately, we’ve been expanding our reach. The Silver Arrows don’t like that. They think we’re encroaching on their territory.”

“And are you?” You ask.

A ghost of a smile flits across Max’s face. “Maybe a little. But business is business, you know?”

You shake your head in disbelief. “I can’t believe I’m hearing this. You’re talking about illegal activities like it’s a corporate takeover!”

“In a way, it is,” Max says. “Just with higher stakes.”

“Boss,” Daniel interrupts. “I think we’ve lost them for now, but we can’t go to any of the safe houses. They might be compromised.”

Max nods. “Good thinking. Head for the marina. We’ll take the boat.”

“Boat?” You echo. “Max, I can’t just leave. My job, my life-”

“Your life will be over if the Silver Arrows find you,” Max says bluntly. “You’re involved now, whether you like it or not. I’m sorry, but there’s no going back.”

The gravity of the situation finally hits you. This isn’t some exciting adventure that you can just walk away from. This is real, and it’s dangerous.

“What have you gotten me into, Max?” You whisper.

His arm tightens around you. “I’ll keep you safe,” he promises. “No matter what.”

You want to believe him. Despite everything, despite the insanity of the past twelve hours, you find that you do believe him.

As the car speeds towards the marina, you try to process everything that’s happened. Your quiet life of academia seems like a distant memory now. In its place is ... what? Danger? Excitement? A chance at something you never knew you wanted?

You look at Max, studying his profile. He seems different from the boy you knew in high school. Harder, certainly, but there’s something else too. A confidence, a magnetism that you can’t deny.

As if sensing your gaze, Max turns to look at you. For a moment, the facade of the hardened crime boss slips, and you see a flicker of the boy you once knew.

“I really am sorry about all this,” he says softly. “If I could go back and undo it all, I would.”

“Would you?” You ask, surprised by your own boldness.

Max looks taken aback. “Wouldn’t you want me to?”

You consider this. “I don’t know,” you admit. “This is all terrifying and insane, but ... I’ve never felt more alive.”

A slow smile spreads across Max’s face. “Well, well,” he says, echoing his words from last night. “Maybe there’s hope for you yet, Y/N.”

Before you can respond, Daniel announces, “We’re here.”

The car pulls up to a private dock where a sleek yacht is moored. Max helps you out of the car, his hand lingering on your lower back.

“Last chance to back out,” he says, his eyes searching your face. “Say the word, and I’ll have Daniel take you back. We’ll figure out a way to keep you safe.”

You look at the yacht, then back at Max. In your mind’s eye, you see your apartment, your job, your safe, predictable life. Then you see bullets flying, feel the rush of adrenaline, the thrill of the unknown.

Taking a deep breath, you make your choice.

“Let’s go,” you say, taking Max’s hand and stepping onto the gangplank.

As the yacht pulls away from the dock, you can’t shake the feeling that you’re leaving more than just the city behind. You’re leaving your old self, your old life.

And as terrifying as that is, you can’t wait to see what comes next.

***

As the yacht cuts through the waves, you find yourself standing at the stern, watching the city skyline grow smaller by the minute. The reality of your situation is starting to sink in, bringing with it a cocktail of emotions — fear, excitement, and a nagging curiosity that won’t let you rest.

You turn to find Max leaning against the railing, his eyes fixed on the horizon. There’s a tension in his shoulders that wasn’t there before, a reminder that you’re not the only one affected by this sudden turn of events.

“Max,” you say, breaking the silence. “Why did you really pick me?”

He glances at you, a flicker of something crossing his face before his expression settles back into careful neutrality. “The doctor part, obviously ...”

You raise an eyebrow, sensing there’s more to it. Max sighs, running a hand through his hair.

“And you have no one who would miss you,” he continues, his voice softer now. “No contact with family and, as far as I’m concerned, no friends who would notice.”

Your heart sinks at his words, partly because of the stark truth in them, and partly because of the implications. “Notice ... oh fuck, you’re gonna kill me?”

Max’s eyes widen in surprise, then narrow in what looks like genuine offense. “No. That’s a last resort, too many questions. You’re on my boat now, aren’t you?”

You let out a shaky breath, not sure whether to feel relieved or more worried. “So what then? Am I your hostage? Your accomplice? What exactly is my role in this mess?”

Max pushes off from the railing, moving closer to you. “Right now? You’re under my protection. Beyond that ... I guess we’ll have to figure it out as we go.”

“Figure it out?” You repeat incredulously. “Max, I left everything behind. My job, my apartment, my entire life. I need more than ‘we’ll figure it out.’”

He has the decency to look chagrined. “You’re right. You deserve answers. But right now, our priority has to be getting somewhere safe.”

“And where exactly is that?” You press.

Max glances around, as if checking for eavesdroppers, before leaning in closer. “We’re headed to Monaco.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. “Monaco? As in, the luxury resort town on the French Riviera?”

He nods, a hint of a smile playing at his lips. “The very same. I have an ... associate there who can help us.”

“An associate,” you echo skeptically. “Another crime lord, I assume?”

Max’s smile widens. “Something like that. His name is Charles. He’s the heir to the Rosso Corsa Mafia.”

You can’t help but laugh, the absurdity of the situation finally getting to you. “The Rosso Corsa Mafia? Seriously? What is this, some kind of international crime syndicate convention?”

“Hey, networking is important in any business,” Max quips, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

For a moment, you’re both laughing, the tension of the past few hours dissipating slightly. But as the laughter fades, reality sets in once more.

“Max,” you say, your voice quiet now. “What am I doing here? Really?”

He sobers, his gaze intense as he looks at you. “Honestly? I’m not entirely sure. When I came to your apartment last night, I was just looking for help. I didn’t plan for any of this.”

“But you must have had some idea,” you press. “You said you kept tabs on me. Why?”

Max is quiet for a long moment, his eyes searching your face. Finally, he speaks. “Do you remember our last day of school together? Before I ... left?”

You furrow your brow, thinking back. “Vaguely. It was just an ordinary day, wasn’t it?”

He shakes his head. “Not for me. That was the day I decided to leave. I was in the library, trying to figure out how I was going to tell my parents I wanted to drop out. And then you came in.”

“I did?” You ask, surprised. You have no memory of this.

Max nods. “You were returning a stack of books. You looked ... happy. Excited about your future. I remember thinking how different we were. How I’d never have that kind of certainty, that sense of purpose.”

You’re not sure how to respond to that. “So... what? You’ve been keeping an eye on me out of some kind of twisted nostalgia?”

He winces. “When you put it like that, it sounds creepy. I just ... I guess I wanted to know that someone from our old life made it. That it was possible to be normal and happy.”

“And now you’ve dragged me into your world,” you say, a hint of bitterness in your voice.

Max looks stricken. “I never meant for this to happen. If I could go back-”

“But you can’t,” you interrupt. “We’re here now. So what happens next?”

Before Max can answer, a crew member approaches. “Sir, we’ve just received word from Monaco. Mr. Leclerc is expecting us.”

Max nods. “Thank you, Rupert. Tell the captain to push the engines. I want to make it there before nightfall.”

You shake your head in disbelief. “This is insane. You know that, right? This whole situation is completely insane.”

“Welcome to my world,” Max says, his tone light but his eyes serious. “It’s not too late to back out, you know. Say the word, and I’ll have the captain turn this boat around.”

You consider it for a moment. Your old life seems so far away already, like a half-remembered dream. And despite the danger, despite the uncertainty, you can’t deny the thrill of excitement coursing through your veins.

“No,” you say finally. “I’m in this now. For better or worse.”

Max’s expression softens. “I promise you, Y/N, I’ll do everything in my power to keep you safe.”

As you stand there, the salt spray on your face and the wind in your hair, you find yourself believing him. It’s crazy, it’s reckless, but you trust him.

The next few hours pass in a blur of activity. Max is constantly on his phone, speaking in hushed tones in what sounds like a mix of Dutch and French. You catch snippets about “security measures” and “clean identities,” but most of it goes over your head.

As the sun begins to set, casting the sea in shades of gold and pink, you find yourself back at the stern of the yacht. The coastline has long since disappeared, leaving nothing but endless ocean in every direction.

You hear footsteps behind you and turn to see Max approaching, two glasses of champagne in hand.

“I thought we could use a drink,” he says, offering you a glass. “To new beginnings?”

You take the glass, clinking it gently against his. “To new beginnings,” you echo, taking a sip. The champagne is exquisite, of course. You wouldn’t expect anything less from a mob boss’s yacht.

“We should be arriving in Monaco in a few hours,” Max says, leaning against the railing beside you. “Charles has arranged for a car to meet us at the marina. We’ll be staying at his family’s villa in the hills.”

You nod, trying to process this information. “And then what?”

Max shrugs. “We lie low for a while. Figure out our next move. The Silver Arrows won’t give up easily, but they’ll have a hard time touching us in Monaco. The Leclercs practically own the place.”

“And where do I fit into all this?” You ask, voicing the question that’s been nagging at you since you stepped onto this boat.

Max turns to face you fully, his expression serious. “That’s up to you, Y/N. I won’t force you into anything. If you want to walk away once we’re in Monaco, I’ll make sure you have the means to do so safely.”

You consider this. The sensible thing would be to take the out he’s offering. Go back to your life of books and lectures and quiet evenings alone. But the thought leaves you feeling ... empty.

“And if I don’t want to walk away?” You ask, surprised by your own boldness.

A slow smile spreads across Max’s face. “Then I suppose we’ll have to find a place for you in this brave new world of ours.”

As you stand there, watching the last rays of sunlight disappear beneath the waves, you can’t help but feel like you’re on the cusp of something momentous. Your old life is behind you now, growing more distant with every passing moment. Ahead lies uncertainty, danger ... and possibility.

You take another sip of champagne, savoring the bubbles on your tongue. Whatever comes next, you realize, you’re ready for it. Ready for the adventure, the risk, the chance to reinvent yourself.

As the yacht cuts through the darkening waters, carrying you towards a future you never could have imagined, you find yourself smiling. For the first time in years, maybe for the first time ever, you feel truly, exhilaratingly alive.

***

The yacht glides smoothly into the marina, the lights of Monaco twinkling like a galaxy of stars against the night sky. You stand at the railing, taking in the sight of luxury yachts and sleek speedboats bobbing gently in their berths. It’s a world away from your modest apartment back home.

Max appears at your side, his face tense. “Remember,” he murmurs, “stay close to me and don’t say anything unless you’re directly addressed. Charles is an ally, but he can be ... unpredictable.”

You nod, swallowing hard. The reality of your situation is sinking in again, the brief respite of the boat ride fading away.

As the crew secures the yacht, a figure emerges from the shadows of the dock. Even in the dim light, you can tell he’s striking — all lean muscles and sharp cheekbones, with piercing green eyes that seem to take in everything at once.

“Max,” he says, his accent a mix of French and something you can’t quite place. “You’ve brought trouble to my doorstep again, I see.”

Max steps forward, clasping the man’s hand. “Charles. Thank you for this. I owe you one.”

Charles’ lips quirk up in a half-smile. “Add it to your tab, my friend.” His gaze shifts to you, curiosity evident in his expression. “And who might this be?”

Before Max can answer, Charles is already moving towards you, taking your hand and bringing it to his lips in a smooth motion. “Enchanté, mademoiselle. I am Charles Leclerc.”

You stammer out your name, caught off guard by his Old World charm. Charles’ eyes sparkle with amusement.

“Adorable,” he says. “Now, shall we? It’s not wise to linger here.”

With that, he turns on his heel and strides towards the parking lot. Max gives you a gentle push, urging you to follow.

As you round the corner, your jaw drops. Sitting there, gleaming under the streetlights, is quite possibly the most ostentatious Ferrari you’ve ever seen. It’s matte black with an eye-catching racing stripe in the colors of the Monegasque flag, and sleek lines that practically scream speed and luxury.

Charles is already sliding into the driver’s seat, while Max ushers you into the back. As the engine roars to life, a thought occurs to you.

“Is this a kidnapping?” You blurt out, your nerves finally getting the better of you.

Charles catches your eye in the rearview mirror, a smirk playing on his lips. “You seem very willing for one.”

Your cheeks flush. “That doesn’t calm my nerves!”

“It is like this,” Charles sighs, accelerating smoothly as he maneuvers through the narrow streets of Monaco. “Do as Max says or we dump your body.”

“What!” You exclaim, your heart rate spiking.

Max shoots Charles a glare. “Charles, do not scare her more than necessary. The poor girl is already terrified.”

Charles shrugs, not taking his eyes off the road as he takes a sharp turn that has you clutching the seat. “I merely state facts, mon ami. Our world is not for the faint of heart.”

You look to Max, seeking reassurance. He meets your gaze, his expression softening slightly. “Ignore him. You’re under my protection, remember?”

“And what exactly does that mean?” You press, emboldened by the adrenaline coursing through your veins. “I still don’t understand my role in all this.”

Max hesitates, glancing at Charles. The two seem to have a silent conversation before Charles speaks up.

“You, ma chèrie, are an unexpected variable,” he says, his tone lighter now. “Max has a habit of collecting strays, but you ... you’re different.”

“Different how?” You ask, not sure if you should be offended or intrigued.

Charles’ eyes meet yours in the mirror again, a glint of mischief in them. “That remains to be seen, doesn’t it? But I suspect you’re made of sterner stuff than you let on.”

The car falls silent as you process this. The streets of Monaco fly by outside the window, a blur of high-end boutiques and lavish casinos. It’s like stepping into another world.

Finally, the Ferrari begins to climb, winding its way up into the hills overlooking the city. The road narrows, becoming more secluded, until you’re passing through an ornate gate flanked by high walls.

The car comes to a stop in front of a sprawling villa that looks like something out of a movie. Marble columns, manicured gardens, a fountain bubbling gently in the courtyard — it’s almost too much to take in.

As you step out of the car on shaky legs, Charles is already striding towards the entrance. “Welcome to Casa Leclerc,” he calls over his shoulder. “Try not to break anything irreplaceable.”

Max appears at your side, placing a steadying hand on your lower back. “You okay?” He asks quietly.

You nod, not trusting your voice. Max guides you inside, where you’re immediately struck by the opulence of the interior. Priceless artwork adorns the walls, and you’re pretty sure that’s an actual Fabergé egg sitting casually on a side table.

Charles leads you to a spacious living room, gesturing for you to sit. As you sink into a plush armchair, he busies himself at a well-stocked bar.

“Drink?” He offers. “I imagine you could use one.”

You nod gratefully, and soon find yourself nursing a glass of what’s probably the most expensive cognac you’ve ever tasted.

Charles settles into a chair across from you, swirling his own drink thoughtfully. “Now then,” he says, his tone suddenly all business. “Perhaps it’s time we discussed the situation at hand.”

Max, who’s been pacing near the windows, turns to face the room. “The Silver Arrows are getting bolder. This attack ... it’s a clear escalation.”

Charles nods grimly. “They sense weakness. Your recent expansion has left you vulnerable, mon ami.”

You listen, feeling increasingly out of your depth as they discuss territories, alliances, and what sound like complex financial maneuvers. It’s like overhearing a board meeting for the world’s most dangerous corporation.

Finally, unable to contain yourself any longer, you speak up. “I’m sorry, but what exactly am I doing here? I’m not a part of ... whatever this is.”

Both men turn to look at you, as if suddenly remembering your presence. Charles raises an eyebrow at Max. “Yes, do tell. What is your plan for our unexpected guest?”

Max runs a hand through his hair, a gesture you’re starting to recognize as a sign of frustration. “I didn’t have a plan. It all happened so fast, and I couldn’t just leave her there.”

“How gallant,” Charles drawls, though there’s a hint of genuine amusement in his voice. “But now we must decide what to do with her. She knows too much to simply let go.”

Your grip tightens on your glass. “I won’t say anything. I swear. Just ... let me go home.”

Max’s expression softens as he looks at you. “It’s not that simple, Y/N. The Silver Arrows saw you with me. They’ll assume you’re involved, whether you are or not.”

“So what then?” You ask, frustration bleeding into your voice. “Am I your prisoner now?”

“Non, ma chèrie,” Charles interjects smoothly. “Think of yourself as ... a valued guest. Under our protection.”

You laugh bitterly. “Some protection. I’ve been shot at, kidnapped, and threatened with bodily harm in the span of 48 hours.”

To your surprise, Charles actually looks chagrined. “Ah, yes. My apologies for that. I have a flair for the dramatic, you see.”

“What Charles is trying to say,” Max cuts in, shooting his friend a warning look, “is that you have options. We can set you up with a new identity, somewhere far from here. Or ...”

He trails off, and you find yourself leaning forward despite yourself. “Or what?”

Max and Charles exchange another of those loaded glances before Max continues. “Or you could stay. Become a part of this.”

You blink, sure you must have misheard. “Become a part of ... your crime syndicate? Are you insane?”

Charles chuckles. “Now you’re catching on, chérie. We’re all a little mad here.”

You shake your head, trying to clear it. The cognac isn’t helping. “I’m not a criminal. I’m a literature professor, for god’s sake!”

“And yet,” Charles muses, leaning forward, “here you are. You could have called the police at any point. You could have refused to get on that yacht. But you didn’t. Why is that, I wonder?”

You open your mouth to protest, then close it again. He’s not wrong. Despite the fear, despite the danger, there’s a part of you that’s been thrilled by all of this. A part that’s been longing for something more than your quiet, predictable life.

Max kneels in front of you, taking your hands in his. “I know it’s a lot to take in. And I’m not asking you to decide right now. But I want you to know that if you choose to stay, we’ll teach you everything you need to know. You’ll be protected, valued. Part of something bigger than yourself.”

You look into his eyes, searching for ... you’re not sure what. Deception? Ulterior motives? But all you see is sincerity, and something else. Something that makes your heart beat a little faster.

“I ... I need time to think,” you manage to say.

Charles claps his hands together, breaking the moment. “Excellent idea. A good night’s sleep will do wonders for clarity of thought. Allow me to show you to your room.”

As you follow Charles up a sweeping staircase, your mind is whirling. Two days ago, your biggest concern was finishing grading papers on Jane Austen. Now, you’re being offered a place in an international crime syndicate.

It’s absurd.

It’s terrifying.

And yet ...

Charles stops in front of an ornate door. “Your quarters, mademoiselle. I trust you’ll find everything to your liking. We can discuss more in the morning.”

As he turns to leave, you can’t help but call out. “Charles?”

He pauses, looking back at you with those piercing eyes. “Yes?”

“Why are you doing this? Helping Max, offering me a place here? What’s in it for you?”

A slow smile spreads across his face. “Let’s just say I have a good feeling about you, Y/N. You might be exactly what our little organizations need.”

With that cryptic statement, he’s gone, leaving you alone in a luxurious bedroom that probably costs more than your entire apartment back home.

As you sink onto the plush bed, your head spinning from more than just the alcohol, you can’t help but wonder: what would Jane Austen make of all this? Somehow, you don’t think even she could have imagined a plot twist quite like this one.

***

The morning sun filters through the luxurious curtains, rousing you from a surprisingly deep sleep. For a moment, you’re disoriented, the opulent surroundings a stark contrast to your cozy little apartment back home. Then the events of the past day come rushing back, and with them, a sudden clarity.

You sit up, your mind made up. It’s crazy, it’s reckless, but you’ve never been more certain of anything in your life. You’re staying.

After a quick shower and change into clothes that have mysteriously appeared in the wardrobe (and fit perfectly, which you decide not to question), you make your way downstairs. The villa is quiet, save for the faint clinking of dishes coming from what you assume is the kitchen.

You follow the sound, finding Max nursing a cup of coffee at a marble island. He looks up as you enter, his expression guarded.

“Morning,” he says cautiously. “Sleep well?”

You nod, taking a deep breath. “I’ve made a decision.”

He sets down his cup, giving you his full attention. “Oh?”

“I’m staying,” you say, your voice steadier than you feel. “I want to be a part of this. Of your world.”

Max’s eyebrows shoot up, surprise evident on his face. “Are you sure? This isn’t a decision to be made lightly, Y/N. Once you’re in, there’s no going back.”

You meet his gaze, unflinching. “I’m sure. My old life ... it never felt right. Like I was just going through the motions. But this? As terrifying as it is, it feels real. It feels right.”

A slow smile spreads across Max’s face, transforming his features. “Well then,” he says, standing up. “I guess we better start your training.”

“Training?” You echo.

Max nods, his expression turning serious. “If you’re going to survive in this world, you need to learn how to protect yourself. First lesson: shooting.”

Your eyes widen. “Shooting? As in, guns?”

“No, we’re going to teach you competitive archery,” Max deadpans. “Of course guns. Come on, Charles has a range in the basement.”

As you follow Max through the winding corridors of the villa, your heart races with a mix of excitement and trepidation. This is really happening.

The shooting range is state-of-the-art, with multiple lanes and an impressive array of weapons displayed on the walls. Max selects a handgun, checking it over with practiced ease.

“We’ll start with something simple,” he says, holding out the gun. “A Glock 19. Easy to handle, reliable.”

You take the weapon gingerly, surprised by its weight. Max positions himself behind you, adjusting your stance and grip.

“Remember,” he says, his breath warm against your ear, “breathe steadily. Squeeze the trigger, don’t pull.”

You nod, trying to focus on the target at the end of the range rather than the heat of Max’s body behind you.

“Whenever you’re ready,” he murmurs, stepping back.

You take a deep breath, aim, and pull the trigger. The gun goes off with a deafening bang, and you can’t help but let out a surprised scream.

Max tuts, shaking his head. “Don’t do that, it will give you away.”

You turn to him, incredulous. “Like the loud noise wouldn’t? I shot a gun!”

“And missed,” Max points out, nodding towards the untouched target. “Now go again.”

Gritting your teeth, you face the target once more. This time, you’re prepared for the noise and the recoil. You squeeze the trigger, and to your surprise, the bullet hits the outer ring of the target.

“Better,” Max says, a note of approval in his voice. “Again.”

As the morning wears on, you find yourself falling into a rhythm. Aim, breathe, squeeze. The shots become more accurate, your stance more confident. Max is a patient teacher, offering guidance and correction with a gentle touch here, a murmured word there.

“You’re a natural,” he says after a particularly good round. “Must be all those Jane Austen novels. Secret badass under all that propriety.”

You laugh, lowering the gun. “I don’t think Lizzy Bennet ever handled a Glock.”

“Her loss,” Max grins. “One more round?”

You nod, raising the gun once more. As you fire off the last few shots, you’re aware of Max’s gaze on you, more intense than before. The final bullet hits dead center, and you turn to him with a triumphant smile.

“How was that?” You ask, breathless with exhilaration.

Max doesn’t answer immediately. He’s looking at you with an expression you can’t quite decipher — admiration, certainly, but something else too. Something that makes your pulse quicken.

“Max?” You prompt, suddenly very aware of how close he is.

In one fluid motion, Max closes the distance between you. His hand comes up to cup your cheek, and before you can process what’s happening, his lips are on yours.

The kiss is electric, sending sparks through your entire body. You respond instinctively, your free hand fisting in his shirt to pull him closer. The gun clatters to the floor, forgotten.

Max backs you up against the wall of the shooting range, his body pressing against yours. When you finally break apart, you’re both breathing heavily.

“I’ve wanted to do that since you opened your door that night,” Max admits, his forehead resting against yours.

You laugh breathlessly. “Even with me in my ratty pajamas?”

“Especially then,” he grins. “You were adorably flustered. And then you went and patched me up without hesitation. I was a goner.”

You shake your head in disbelief. “This is insane, you know that? A few days ago I was grading papers on 19th-century classic literature. Now I’m making out with a crime lord in a secret shooting range.”

Max’s expression turns serious. “Is it too much? We can slow down, or-”

You cut him off with another kiss. “No,” you say firmly. “It’s not too much. It’s ... exactly right.”

A slow smile spreads across Max’s face. “Well then, doctor. Ready for your next lesson?”

You raise an eyebrow. “And what might that be?”

Max’s grin turns wicked. “I was thinking something in the realm of close combat. Very hands-on.”

You laugh, a thrill of excitement running through you. “Lead the way.”

As Max takes your hand, leading you out of the shooting range, you can’t help but marvel at the turn your life has taken. It’s dangerous, it’s completely illogical, and yet ... you’ve never felt more alive.

Whatever comes next, you’re ready for it. With a gun in your hand and Max by your side, you feel like you could take on the world. And who knows? Maybe you will.

***

As Max leads you out of the shooting range, there’s a palpable tension in the air, crackling with unspoken promises. You follow him through the winding corridors of Charles’ villa, your heart racing with anticipation.

“So,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady, “where exactly are we going for this close combat training?”

Max glances back at you, a mischievous glint in his eye. “I thought we’d use the gym. Plenty of space, padded floors ... you know, for safety.”

You can’t help but laugh. “Safety, huh? Is that what we’re calling it now?”

He stops abruptly, turning to face you. “Y/N, if this is moving too fast-”

You cut him off, stepping closer. “Max, I literally left my entire life behind for you. I think we’re well past too fast.”

A slow smile spreads across his face. “Fair point. Still, if at any point you want to stop-”

“I’ll let you know,” you assure him. “Now, are you going to show me these close combat moves or what?”

Max’s grin turns predatory. “Oh, I’ll show you alright.”

He pushes open a door, revealing a state-of-the-art gym. The space is impressive, with gleaming equipment and, as promised, a large area covered in training mats.

“Shall we?” Max asks, gesturing to the mats.

You nod, suddenly feeling a bit nervous despite your bravado. As you step onto the mat, Max begins circling you slowly.

“The key to close combat,” he says, his voice low and intense, “is to always be aware of your opponent’s movements. To anticipate their next move.”

You turn, keeping him in your sight. “And how do I do that?”

In a flash, Max is behind you, his arms wrapping around your waist. “By staying alert,” he murmurs in your ear.

A shiver runs down your spine at his proximity. “I thought I was doing pretty well,” you manage to say.

You can feel Max’s chuckle rumbling through his chest. “Not bad. But you’re still too tense. You need to relax, feel the flow of movement.”

His hands slide up your arms, gently adjusting your posture. You lean back into him, relishing the warmth of his body.

“Like this?” You ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Max’s grip tightens slightly. “Getting there. Now, if someone grabs you like this, what do you do?”

You consider for a moment, then make your move. You twist in his arms, using the momentum to break his hold and face him. “How’s that?”

Max looks impressed. “Not bad at all. You’re a quick learner.”

“I have a good teacher,” you reply, a bit breathless from the maneuver and his proximity.

For a moment, you stand there, faces inches apart, the air heavy with tension. Then Max moves, swift and sure, sweeping your legs out from under you. You land on the mat with a soft thud, Max following you down, pinning you beneath him.

“Rule number one,” he says, his face hovering above yours, “never let your guard down.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Is that so? And what’s rule number two?”

Instead of answering, Max lowers his head, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. You respond eagerly, your hands coming up to tangle in his hair.

When you finally break apart, you’re both breathing heavily. “I think I like rule number two,” you say with a grin.

Max laughs, the sound rich and warm. “Oh, we’re just getting started with the rules, doctor.”

He leans in for another kiss, but this time you’re ready. Using the moves he just taught you, you manage to flip your positions, straddling his waist triumphantly.

“How’s that for staying alert?” You ask, feeling a thrill at the surprised and appreciative look on Max’s face.

“Impressive,” he says, his hands coming to rest on your hips. “But you’ve left yourself open.”

Before you can ask what he means, Max surges upward, capturing your lips once more. As you lose yourself in the kiss, you feel him shift, and suddenly you’re on your back again, Max looming over you with a satisfied smirk.

“Distraction,” he says, “can be a powerful weapon.”

You laugh, breathless and exhilarated. “I’ll keep that in mind. Any other lessons you want to teach me?”

Max’s eyes darken. “Oh, I’ve got plenty more to teach you. If you’re up for it.”

You reach up, pulling him down to you. “I’m a very dedicated student,” you murmur against his lips.

What follows is less a lesson in combat and more an exploration of each other. Clothes are discarded, hands roam freely, and the only sounds in the gym are gasps, moans, and occasional laughter.

Later, as you lie tangled together on the training mats, you can’t help but marvel at the turn your life has taken. Just days ago, you were grading papers in your quiet apartment. Now, you’re in the arms of a mob boss, in a luxurious villa in Monaco, having just had the most exhilarating experience of your life.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Max asks, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your bare skin.

You turn to face him, propping yourself up on an elbow. “Just thinking about how surreal this all is. A week ago, the most exciting thing in my life was finding a rare first edition at an antique book fair.”

Max chuckles. “And now?”

“Now?” You grin. “Now I’m learning to shoot, engaging in ‘close combat training’, and apparently joining an international crime syndicate. It’s ... a lot.”

His expression turns serious. “Is it too much? It’s too late to back out now, you know. I could have set you up somewhere safe, given you a new identity earlier, but now-”

You silence him with a kiss. “Max, I meant what I said earlier. I’m in this. All of it. With you.”

The smile that spreads across his face is radiant. “Good,” he says, pulling you closer. “Because I don’t think I could let you go now if I tried.”

You settle into his embrace, feeling safer than you have in years despite the objective danger of your situation. “So, what’s next on the criminal training agenda?” You ask, only half-joking.

Max pretends to consider. “Well, we’ve covered shooting and hand-to-hand combat. How do you feel about safecracking?”

You laugh. “Safecracking? Seriously?”

“Hey, it’s a valuable skill in our line of work,” Max defends, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

“Uh-huh,” you say skeptically. “And I suppose pickpocketing is next on the list?”

Max grins. “Now that you mention it ...”

You swat his chest playfully. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, here you are,” he points out, capturing your hand and bringing it to his lips.

“Here I am,” you agree softly. “So, what happens now? Do we stay here in Monaco? Go back to face the Silver Arrows?”

Max’s expression turns thoughtful. “For now, we stay here. You need more training before we can risk going back. And I need to regroup, strategize.”

You nod, a mix of relief and excitement coursing through you. “So I get to play princess in a Monaco villa while learning the finer points of criminality? I think I can handle that.”

“It won’t all be fun and games,” Max warns. “The Silver Arrows are still out there, and they’re not going to give up easily. We need to be prepared for anything.”

“I know,” you say, your tone turning serious. “I understand the risks. I’m ready for whatever comes next.”

He studies your face for a long moment, as if searching for any sign of doubt. Finding none, he nods. “Alright then. Welcome to the family, Y/N.”

***

The Monaco sun beats down relentlessly as you step out of yet another luxury boutique, arms laden with shopping bags. Oscar and Lando, your assigned bodyguards, trail behind you, their eyes constantly scanning the surroundings.

“I think that’s the last one,” you say, unable to keep the excitement out of your voice. “Who knew shopping could be so exhilarating?”

Oscar raises an eyebrow. “I think the exhilaration comes from Max finally letting you out of the villa, not the shopping itself.”

You laugh, conceding the point. “True. I never thought I’d be so happy to see the inside of a Gucci store.”

Lando grins. “Just wait until Max sees the bill. That’ll be truly exhilarating.”

As you make your way towards the parked Ferrari, you can’t help but reflect on the past few weeks. The intensive training, the late-night strategy sessions with Max and Charles, the growing feeling that you’re part of something bigger than yourself. It’s been thrilling, but also claustrophobic at times.

“I still can’t believe Max agreed to this little excursion,” you muse as you reach the car.

Oscar shrugs, opening the trunk. “You can be very persuasive when you want to be. Those puppy eyes of yours should be classified as a weapon.”

You’re about to retort when a sudden movement catches your eye. Before you can react, the air is filled with the deafening sound of gunfire.

“Get down!” Lando shouts, pushing you behind the car as he and Oscar draw their weapons.

Your heart pounds as you crouch behind the meager cover, the sounds of a firefight erupting around you. This isn’t like the controlled environment of the shooting range. This is real, chaotic, and terrifying.

“Y/N, stay down!” Oscar yells over the din, returning fire at unseen assailants.

You nod, too shocked to speak. But as you huddle there, a horrifying realization hits you — you recognize some of the voices shouting orders.

The Silver Arrows. They’ve found you.

Suddenly, a strong arm wraps around your waist, yanking you up and away from the car. You struggle instinctively, but your captor’s grip is like iron.

“Well, well,” a deep voice rumbles in your ear. “What do we have here? Max’s new pet, I presume?”

You crane your neck, looking up into a face you’ve seen before — in photographs, in briefings. Toto Wolff, leader of the Silver Arrows himself.

“Let me go,” you growl, trying to sound braver than you feel.

Toto chuckles, the sound devoid of humor. “I’m afraid I can’t do that, my dear. You see, you’re my ticket to bringing Max to his knees.”

As he speaks, you become acutely aware of the weight on your thigh. The gun. The one Max insisted you carry, “just in case.” This, you realize with startling clarity, is that case.

Moving as subtly as you can, you reach for the holster strapped to your leg. Toto, focused on the fight around you, doesn’t notice.

“You don’t have to do this,” you say, stalling for time as your fingers close around the grip of the gun. “There are other ways to resolve conflicts.”

Toto’s laugh is harsh. “Spoken like someone who doesn’t understand our world. This isn’t a negotiation, it’s war.”

You take a deep breath, Max’s training echoing in your mind. Stay calm. Aim true. Squeeze, don’t pull.

“You’re right,” you say, your voice steadier than you feel. “I don’t understand your world.”

In one fluid motion, you pull the gun free and twist in Toto’s grip. Before he can react, you press the muzzle against his chest and pull the trigger.

The gunshot seems impossibly loud, even amidst the chaos of the firefight. Toto’s eyes widen in shock, his grip on you loosening as he stumbles backward.

For a moment, everything seems to freeze. Then, chaos erupts anew.

“Boss!” Someone shouts, and suddenly you’re being pulled away, strong arms encircling you protectively.

“I’ve got you,” Oscar’s voice says in your ear. “We’re getting out of here.”

As he hustles you towards the car, you catch glimpses of the scene around you. Silver Arrow members rushing to their fallen leader. Lando providing cover fire. And blood. So much blood.

Oscar practically throws you into the backseat of the Ferrari before jumping into the driver’s seat. Lando dives in barely a second later, and then you’re peeling away from the curb, tires screeching.

“Are you hurt?” Lando asks, twisting in his seat to look at you.

You shake your head, still too shocked to speak. The gun is still clutched in your hand, and you stare at it as if seeing it for the first time.

“You did good, Y/N,” Oscar says, his eyes flicking to you in the rearview mirror. “You kept your cool. That’s not easy in a situation like that.”

“I ... I shot him,” you manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper. “Toto Wolff. I shot him.”

Lando and Oscar exchange a glance. “You did what you had to do,” Lando says gently. “He would have killed you without hesitation.”

As the adrenaline begins to fade, the reality of what just happened starts to sink in. You’ve just shot one of the most powerful crime lords in Europe. In broad daylight. In the middle of Monte Carlo.

“Oh god,” you groan, leaning your head back against the seat. “Max is going to kill me.”

Oscar lets out a surprised laugh. “Are you kidding? He’s going to be thrilled. You just took out his biggest rival.”

“Took out?” You repeat, a new wave of panic washing over you. “You mean he’s ...”

“We don’t know for sure,” Lando says quickly. “But a point-blank shot like that ... it doesn’t look good for Toto.”

You close your eyes, trying to process everything. Just hours ago, your biggest concern was whether to buy the Prada or the Fendi handbag. Now, you might have just assassinated a mob boss.

The rest of the drive passes in a blur. Before you know it, you’re pulling up to the villa, where Max is already waiting, his face a mask of concern and anger.

As soon as the car stops, he yanks open your door, pulling you into a fierce embrace. “Are you okay?” He demands, his hands roaming over you as if checking for injuries. “When I got the call, I thought ...”

You cling to him, the familiar scent of his cologne grounding you. “I’m okay,” you assure him. “I’m okay.”

Max pulls back slightly, cupping your face in his hands. “What happened? Oscar said there was a firefight.”

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself. “The Silver Arrows ambushed us. And Toto ... he grabbed me. I ... I shot him, Max. With the gun you gave me.”

For a moment, Max just stares at you, his expression unreadable. Then, to your surprise, a slow smile spreads across his face. “You shot Toto Wolff?”

You nod, still unsure of his reaction. “I think ... I think I might have killed him.”

Max’s smile widens into a full-blown grin. “Y/N, do you have any idea what you’ve just done? You’ve single-handedly changed the balance of power in our world.”

“I have?” You ask, feeling slightly dazed.

He nods, pulling you close again. “You’re incredible, you know that? I knew you were special from the moment I showed up at your door, but this ... this is beyond anything I could have imagined.”

As Max leads you into the villa, his arm protectively around your waist, you can’t help but marvel at the turn your life has taken. From literature professor to potential assassin in a matter of weeks. It’s terrifying, exhilarating, and completely surreal.

“What happens now?” You ask as Max guides you to the study, where Charles is already waiting, phone in hand.

Max exchanges a look with Charles before turning back to you. “Now? Now we prepare for war. The Silver Arrows won’t take this lying down, Toto dead or alive. But with you by my side ...” He trails off, a fierce pride in his eyes.

“You can be unstoppable,” Charles finishes, raising his glass in a toast.

As you sink into a chair, the events of the day finally catching up with you, you realize that this is your life now. Gunfights and power plays, luxury shopping sprees and criminal empires. It’s a far cry from grading papers on Jane Austen, but as you look at Max, seeing the mix of pride, concern, and love in his eyes, you know you wouldn’t have it any other way.

The war may be just beginning, but with Max by your side and a newfound confidence in your abilities, you’re ready to face whatever comes next. After all, you’ve already taken down Toto Wolff. What’s a little inter-syndicate warfare compared to that?

***

Five Years Later

The small apartment buzzes with the energy of five recent college graduates, sprawled across mismatched furniture in various states of relaxation. Empty pizza boxes and half-empty wine bottles litter the coffee table, evidence of their Friday night catch-up session.

“Alright, alright,” Emily says, reaching for her phone. “What should we put on for background noise? Music? TV?”

Jake, lounging on the worn leather armchair, perks up. “Oh! What about that true crime podcast I was telling you guys about? The one about modern mobs?”

Zoe, curled up on the couch, raises an eyebrow. “Seriously? Isn’t that a bit heavy for a chill hangout?”

“No, no, it’s fascinating!” Jake insists. “It’s not just gruesome stuff. It’s all about the economics and politics of modern organized crime. Super interesting.”

Lisa, sitting cross-legged on the floor, shrugs. “I’m game. Could be fun to learn something while we drink.”

“Seconded,” chimes in Alex from his spot by the window. “Hit play, Em.”

Emily fiddles with her phone, connecting it to the bluetooth speaker. “Alright, here we go. ‘The Mob in the Modern Age: Episode 7 — The Dutch Syndicate’s Rise to Power.’”

As the podcast’s intro music fades, a smooth, professional voice fills the room:

“In the world of organized crime, power shifts can happen in the blink of an eye. But few have been as sudden or as dramatic as the meteoric rise of the Dutch Crime Syndicate over the past five years. Once a minor player on the European stage, the Dutch Syndicate now controls vast swathes of territory and influences everything from high finance to international politics. But how did this happen? The answer, dear listeners, lies in an unlikely source: a literature professor turned criminal mastermind.”

The friends exchange amused glances. “A literature professor?” Zoe snorts. “Now that’s a career change.”

“Shh,” Jake hushes her, leaning forward intently.

The podcast continues: “It all began with a chance encounter. The Syndicate’s boss, known only as Max Emilian, was injured in a firefight with rival gang members. Desperate for medical attention but unable to go to a hospital, he turned up on the doorstep of a young literature professor in the middle of the night.”

Emily pauses the podcast. “Okay, this sounds like the plot of a bad romance novel.”

“I know, right?” Lisa laughs. “What are the odds?”

Alex shakes his head, grinning. “Maybe our old prof is secretly living it up as a mob wife somewhere.”

The group erupts into laughter at the absurd image.

“Can you imagine?” Zoe gasps between giggles. “Professor Y/L/N in a shootout?”

Jake wipes tears from his eyes. “God, remember how she used to get flustered just operating the projector?”

As the laughter dies down, Emily resumes the podcast.

“What happened next is the stuff of legend in criminal circles. The professor, whose name we now know to be Y/N Y/L/N, not only patched up the crime boss but ended up joining his organization. Within weeks, she had become his right-hand woman and romantic partner.”

The room falls silent, the friends exchanging wide-eyed looks.

“No way,” Alex breathes.

“It can’t be,” Lisa shakes her head. “It’s got to be a coincidence.”

Jake holds up a hand, shushing them as the podcast continues.

“But Y/N’s true moment of infamy came just a month into her new life of crime. During what should have been a routine shopping trip in Monte Carlo, she and her bodyguards were ambushed by members of the rival Silver Arrows gang. In the ensuing chaos, Y/N found herself face to face with none other than Toto Wolff, the notorious leader of the Silver Arrows.”

“Oh my god,” Zoe whispers, her face pale.

“What happened next would change the landscape of European organized crime forever. Y/N, using a gun given to her by Max for protection, shot Toto Wolff at point-blank range. Wolff did not survive the encounter, his death throwing the Silver Arrows into disarray.”

Emily pauses the podcast again, her hand shaking slightly. “Guys ... this can’t actually be our Professor Y/L/N, right? I mean, it’s impossible.”

The room is silent for a long moment, each of them lost in thought.

“Remember how she just ... disappeared?” Alex says slowly. “In the middle of the semester? The department said it was a family emergency, but no one ever heard from her again.”

Jake nods, his brow furrowed. “And it was right around the time this podcast is talking about. Five years ago, give or take.”

Lisa shakes her head vehemently. “No. No way. Our Y/N? The one who cried when we threw her a surprise party for finishing her PhD? There’s no way she shot someone.”

“But think about it,” Zoe says, warming to the idea. “She was always talking about how literature reflects real life, how the best stories come from unexpected places. What if ... what if she decided to live a story instead of just teaching about them?”

The group falls silent again, each of them trying to reconcile the image of their soft-spoken, cardigan-wearing professor with the gun-toting criminal mastermind described in the podcast.

Emily takes a deep breath. “Should we ... should we listen to the rest?”

After a moment of hesitation, they all nod. She presses play:

“In the years since that fateful day in Monte Carlo, Y/N has become a force to be reckoned with in her own right. Known in criminal circles as ‘The Professor,’ she’s rumored to be the strategic mind behind the Dutch Syndicate’s most daring and successful operations. Her background in literature and analysis has proven unexpectedly valuable in the world of organized crime, allowing her to see patterns and opportunities that others miss.”

Jake lets out a low whistle. “Okay, that part I can actually see. Remember how she could break down a text? Find connections no one else saw?”

The others nod, still looking shell-shocked.

The podcast continues: “Last year, Y/N and Max officially tied the knot in what insiders describe as the criminal event of the decade. The guest list reportedly included high-ranking members of various international syndicates, as well as several politicians and business moguls whose connections to the underworld had previously been only rumored.”

“A mob wedding,” Alex says faintly. “Our professor had a mob wedding.”

Zoe suddenly sits up straight. “Wait a second. Guys, remember that weird email we all got about a year ago? The one that looked like spam but had our names in it?”

The others nod slowly, realization dawning.

“It said something about a ‘special event’ and how the sender wished we could be there,” Lisa recalls. “We all thought it was just a weird phishing attempt.”

“Holy shit,” Jake breathes. “She invited us to her mob wedding.”

The podcast wraps up: “Today, the Dutch Crime Syndicate stands at the pinnacle of European organized crime, with Y/N and Max as its power couple. Their story serves as a reminder that in the modern criminal underworld, brains can be just as valuable as brawn. And sometimes, the most dangerous person in the room might just be the one with a literature degree.”

As the outro music plays, the friends sit in stunned silence.

Finally, Emily speaks up. “So ... do we think it’s really her?”

They look at each other, years of shared memories and inside jokes about their favorite professor flashing through their minds.

“I mean, what are the odds of two literature professors named Y/N Y/L/N getting mixed up with the mob in the same year?” Alex points out.

Jake nods slowly. “And it would explain why she just vanished. Why the department was so weird about it.”

“But ... but it’s Y/N,” Lisa protests weakly. “She used to bring us cookies during finals week. She cried when we analyzed sad poems.”

Zoe reaches for her phone. “Only one way to find out for sure. I’m googling her.”

The others crowd around as Zoe types in their former professor’s name. The search results load, and they collectively gasp.

There, staring back at them from countless news articles and blurry paparazzi shots, is an unmistakable face. It’s older, harder somehow, but undeniably the woman who once taught them about Jane Austen and Shakespeare.

“Well,” Emily says faintly, “I guess this explains why she always said Pride and Prejudice needed more action scenes.”

The room erupts into hysterical laughter, the absurdity of the situation finally hitting them full force.

As they catch their breath, Jake raises his wine glass. “To Professor Y/L/N,” he says solemnly. “May her gun be as mighty as her pen.”

The others join in the toast, clinking their glasses together.

“You know,” Alex muses, “I always thought her lectures on Crime and Punishment were a little too detailed.”

Another round of laughter fills the apartment as the friends settle in to re-listen to the podcast, this time with a whole new perspective on their former professor turned criminal mastermind.

As the night wears on, they share memories of their college days, now tinged with the surreal knowledge of where life has taken their beloved professor. And though none of them would admit it out loud, there’s a small part of each of them that can’t help but admire the sheer audacity of it all.

After all, how many people can say their literature professor went on to conquer the criminal underworld?

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

your shark mer 141 and mer remora fic is one of the only things keeping me sane during finals week so please please please dump all of your thoughts on us because your writing style is so good and i can’t get enough!!!!!!!

thank you!! i sincerely hope finals are going/did go well for you! you should treat yourself with a little something if/when you're finished :)

and the shark mer 141 are always happy to be of service <3

37 / 1k / part 2 of shark mer Ghost tolerating remora mer reader

...

"But I'm fine!"

“You’re not. Look at you. You’re half-asleep.”

You’re not tired, you’re hungry. You shift against him, listless and unable to voice your needs. It's not that you're unwilling to do so--it's that you can't. It doesn't occur to you. Your kind doesn't survive by acting needy around a host.

Ghost notices your silent resistance. You’re weak--too tired, too hungry, too used to taking care of yourself--and still stubborn enough to keep your mouth shut anyway. He bites back a growl of irritation. It would be easier to fight. At least then he could shout it out of you. But no--instead you’re a tired lump in his hand, and your silence doesn’t give him anywhere to push back.

He's got one arm looped around you and both of your hands grasped in one of his. He only carries you like this, holding you by the wrists, when you accompanying him isn't up for debate. When you're being particularly fussy about it, he drags you by the wrists as if your arms were leads.

You don't relish that thought right now. You finally just bow your head, tucking it against his chest in submission.

He feels the change in your body language when you surrender to his control. He notices the way you go almost limp against him. Good. That almost puts the hungry, prowling animal in him to rest. Almost.

It’s a hard thing to explain--the gnawing dissatisfaction he felt watching you comb through the sand, small and alone on the ocean floor. The protective, possessive feeling that took root in his stomach.

It made him want to bite you all over. Not just to punish you, but to warn any other lurking thing who might confuse your loneliness for attainability. Not that he'd ever express the impulse to do so.

"Are you coming back to hunt again?" you ask him.

“Why? Do you miss me that much?”

You huff. "You didn't eat enough."

His fingers tighten around your wrists. You either have an inappropriate sense of humor or no self-awareness whatsoever.

“You're in a mouthy mood, huh?” he remarks tersely. “Must be even more tired than you look.”

He’s not stupid. He knows why you invited yourself along on his hunting trip. But he’s not going to coddle you while you shy away from the issue.

He glances up towards the coral reef, considering. If he brings you straight home, you'll just go back to ignoring your obvious needs. But he won’t let you wander the sea floor like some starving bottom-feeder. And he knows better than to hunt for you—you always refuse fresh kills.

The ones Ghost offers, at least. You seem willing enough to take fresh kills from Gaz.

Pisses him off.

You open your eyes when Ghost changes course and heads for a small cove carpeted in sandbanks. He dumps you unceremoniously into the soft sand. You look around, then at him.

"Stay right here." His tone brooks no argument. He swims off with an irritated lash of his tail before you can ask him why. You're left alone, moonlight curling across the surface of the water far above you and across the sand at your fins. Watching it makes your eyelids grow heavy.

You wake with a start when he returns. He holds in one clawed hand a fish. A live one.

He comes to rest on the edge of the sandbank. He doesn't speak, merely watching with a critical eye as you shake the sand from your scales and rouse yourself back into full consciousness. Then he holds out the live fish to you.

"Eat."

You frown but reach for it. Right as you lay your hands on it, it darts away. You jump in surprise, but one look at Ghost's face tells you he expected exactly that to happen. He can’t stop a small, satisfied smirk from curving his lips. That was exactly the reaction he wanted, and now you’re staring at him with six different accusations on the tip of your tongue.

His eyes fix on you with that smug, condescending look in his gaze. "Didn't Price teach you how to hunt for yourself?"

"Yes," you snap. You push yourself off the sand and dart after the fish, catching nothing but water again.

“Clearly not well.”

You strike out again. And come up empty. Again.

He huffs a laugh. You turn on him. "What's the point of this? You're the one who was going hunting."

He leans back, propping his weight on his elbows as he eyes you. Every failed lunge and dart bring him more satisfaction. "The point is that you should be able to feed yourself," he retorts. "You're too dependent, sweetheart. You’d starve in a koi pond."

You’d love nothing more than to tell him where exactly he can shove his stupid fish, but it’s far too mentally taxing for you to refuse outright. Instead, you cross your arms in a way that just as clearly says I'm not doing that.

Ghost’s eyes glimmer. He isn’t having it.

He pushes himself off the sand and swims toward you, pushing you back against the bank when he crowds himself over your smaller frame.

"You know” —his expression is downright patronizing— “refusing an order is a bad move. Bad things happen to disobedient pets."

"It didn't sound like an order," you mutter, avoiding his eyes.

He grabs your jaw and forces eye contact. "Sure as hell wasn't a suggestion, sweetheart. If you're not gonna ask for food when you need it, you're gonna learn to hunt." His eyes are hard, and that smug, self-satisfied demeanor is buried far underneath. "You learn or I make you learn. What do you say?"

You swallow. "Thank you for catching me such a nice practice fish?"

"Good pet." He releases your jaw.

He moves back onto the sand, propping himself on his elbows once more as he leans back. His black eyes linger on you, and you feel a chill.

"Now go."

...

part 1 / [part 2]

more mer au / more Ghost / masterlist tag

[listen-to-the-inner-walrus]

Again, not an exhaustive list but for anyone else in the UK, these are where riots are expected today:

Aldershot - Immigration Advisors at 40 Victoria Road GU11 1TH, starting at 19:30.

Bedford - Immigration INN (Inn?) on Ford End Road MK40 4JT, at 20:00.

Birmingham - Refugee and Migrant Centre on Frederick Street B1 3HN, beginning at 20:00.

Bishop Auckland - outside the Town Hall on Market Place DL14 7NP.

Blackburn - Rafiq Immigration Services on Whalley Road BB5 1AA, at 20:00.

Blackpool - Immigration Solicitors at the Enterprise Centre on Lytham Road FY1 1EW, starting at 20:00.

Bolton - Deane & Bolton Immigration Lawyers on Chorley New Road BL1 4QR, at 20:00.

Brentford - UK Immigration Help in The Mile on 1000 Great West Road TW8 9DW, starting around 19:00.

Brighton - Raj Rayan Immigration in Queensberry House at 106 Queens Road BN1 3XF, starting either at 19:30 or 20:00.

Bristol - Gya Williams Immigration on West Street BS2 OBL, at 20:00.

Burnley - at Thompson Park on 111 Ormerod Rioad BB11 3QWat, starting at 13:00.

Canterbury - UK Immigration Clinic in the Canterbury Innovation Centre CT2 7FG, at 20:00.

Chatham - Immigration Status UK on Maidstone Road ME5 9FD, at 20:00.

Cheadle - Intime Immigration Services on Brooks Drive SK8 3TD, at 20:00.

Chelmsford - UK Immigration Information Centre on Violet Close CM1 6XG, at 20:00.

Derby - Immigration Advisory Service, Normanton Road DE23 6US, at 20:00.

Dover - Kent Immigration and Visa Advice at 5A Castle Hill Road CT16 1QG, reportedly around 20:00.

Durham - in Crook at Market Place, at 18:00. (Unsure as to whether this is the same one as in Bishop Auckland as I know Crook is near there?)

Finchley - Immigration and Nationality Services within Foundation House at 4 Percy Road N128BU, around 19:00.

Harrow - Yes UK Immigration and North Harrow Community Library within the Business Centre at 429-433 Pinner Road HA1 4HN, in North Harrow, at 19:00.

Hastings - Black Rock Immigration at 37 Cambridge Gardens TN34 1EN, at 20:00.

Hull - Conroy Baker Immigration Lawyer in Norwich House, 1 Savile Street HU1 3ES, at 20:00.

Lewisham - the Clock Tower, SE13 5JH, 19:00.

Lincoln - Immigration Lawyer Services on Carlton Mews LN2 4FJ, at 20:00.

Liverpool - Merseyside Refugee Centre in St Anne's Centre on 7 Overbury Street L7 3HJ, at 20:00.

Liverpool - Sandpiper Hotel (might be on Ormskirk Old Road? if any scousers can clarify where that is, that'd be great) at 13:00.

Middlesbrough - Immigration Advice Centre which is the Co-Operative Buildings at 251 Linthorpe Road TS1 4AT, at 20:00.

Newcastle - United Immigration Services in Artisan Unit 3, The Beacon on Westgate Road NE4 9PQ, at 20:00.

Northampton - Zenith Immigration Lawyers at 2 Talbot Road NN1 4JB, starting at 20:00.

Nottingham - East Midlands Immigration Services at 15 Stonesbury Vale NG2 7UR, at 20:00.

Oldham - somewhere on Ellen Street 0L9 6QR, at 20:00

Oxford - Asylum Welcome in Unit 7 in Newtec Place on Magdelen Road OX4 1RE, around 19:00. [Updated as of 15:53]

Peterborough - Smart Immigration Services in Laxton House at 191 Lincoln Road PE1 2PN, at 20:00.

Plymouth - in a Morrisons car park, I don't know which but I saw Victory Parade associated with it? If anyone from Plymouth can clarify, please do. Not sure on time.

Portsmouth - UK Border Agency at Kettering Terrace PO2 8QN, at 20:00

Preston - Adriana Immigration Services at 109 Church Street PR1 3BS, at 19:00 or 20:00.

Rotherham - Parker Rhodes Hickmotts, The Point S60 1BP, at 20:00.

Sheffield - City Hall on Barker's Pool S1 2JA, at 13:00.

Sheffield - White Rose Visas at 101 Wilkinson Street S10 2GJ, at 20:00.

Southampton - Y-Axis Immigration Consultants, Cumberland Place on Grosvenor Square SO15 2BG, at 20:00.

Southend - MNS Immigration Solicitors on Ditton Court Road SS0 7HG, at 20:00.

Stoke-On-Trent - ZR Visas on Metcalfe Road ST6 7AZ, in Tunstall, at 20:00.

Sunderland - North of England Refugee Service which is in Suite 12 in the Eagle Building at 201 High Street East SR1 2AX, at 20:00.

Swindon - I have no details for this, just seen that something might be kicking off there.

Tamworth - Lawrencia & Co Immigration Solicitors within the Amber Business Village on Amber Close B77 4RP, no details on time unfortunately.

Walthamstow - Waltham Forest Immigration Bureau at 187 Hoe Street E17 3AP, at 20:00.

Wigan - Support for Wigan Arrivals Project, Penson Street WN1 2LP, at 20:00.

York - only detail I've got it is York Stay City Hotel.

[veronicawildest]

NAKSHATRA SERIES: OBSERVATION FROM DIFFERENT NAKSHATRAS (TERCERO)

If you're offended just block me. If you get it, you get it, if you don't, fuck off

PURVA PHALGUNI:

When you're in a Laziest competition and the opponent is Purva phalguni native: ☹️🙁🫤😰😰😨😞

They're the 2nd place for being cheesiest interms of being relationship and inlove (I will revealed the winner of this on the next observations)

I realized just I've been googling Sydney Sweeney that her fiance is 13 years much older than her. The Purva phalguni sun celebrities too as well:

Blake Lively (Purva phalguni moon) and Ryan Reynolds

Beyonce (Purva phalguni sun) and Jay Z

Mena Suvari ( Purva phalguni moon) married Richard Brinkmann on March 4, 2000, when she was 21 and he was 37

It's really a pattern and the Opposite sign of leo is aquarius which is saturn.

Purva phalguni love cars. Aside from Elon Musk, Sydney Sweeney has a tiktok account about repairing cars. She has Purva phalguni sun conjunct rahu (intensifying the energy of Purva phalguni)

The physiognomy of this nakshatra is that they have THICK and unruly eyebrows. (Brooke Shields, Taylor Hill) even that i known in my life has this trait

Certain Purva phalguni celebs talks about anxiety and stressed a lot. The lead singer of Twenty One Pilots, Tyler Joseph is a Purva phalguni moon and you can observe that his songs has a lot of topic about this certain extent. Doubt and Stressed are some of this.

They really love music and arts. Claire nakti specifically talk about performing arts but all kinds of arts related to pleasure. They really love it.

Don't let the laziness of this nakshatra fool you. If they have a goal they'll be great at focusing and getting the goal (Just give them a reason to give a F*** to get it but if they really don't care, they be lazy ass about it)

UTTARA PHALGUNI:

Connections are important to them (even if it's shallow at some extend you will observe them social climbing up way to the top)

Friends before hoes nakshatra (The girls of this nakshatra are more hoes into friends they love their partner more than friends tho)

The older partner one that i observe over purva phalguni girls earlier extend to this nakshatra. but for girls too.

Much funnier than you would expect and also not afraid to speak their minds even if someone is gonna get hurt by them. My classmate has this. If she is a celebrity, one second = cancelled!

Now that I've mention that Nicki Minaj has this moon. No wonder why, Some would say her unhinged opinions on certain things is her manifestation at Jyestha, but i would disagree.

(Some unevolved) girls of this nakshatra are not so much girls girl. They don't claim to be one which is fine but you don't need to bring down others. (They doing it for their friends because of connections y'know shittalking)

The abbreviation of I of Uttara phalguni is INDEPENDENT

HASTA:

I underestimated how this nakshatra gets a lot of hate (some of them are understandable tho)

They're great friends tho. they're are f yapper (if they're comfortable at you)

I always observe them. They're like a sexy librarian (common sidereal virgos that i known have a glasses)

If you want a manipulation teacher who can teach you all kinds of manipulation techniques (I'm talking about drawing, forgery and tarots manipulation involving hands) Go to HASTA!!!!!

They're great mimicker and impersonator (not all are accurate but most of them are funny)

Witty nakshatra (they known how to banter)

Females with this nakshatra have MANY male friends.

They're fvcking horny. Don't let the hasta = nun, virgin fool you bruh

Chitra:

Major trolls!! What i mean to be troll is They like to play dumb even if they are not dumb (Extends to Mrigashira and Dhanistha) They're not DUMB.

They have a manipulation for cameras, If hasta excel at being at work or manipulation of paper involving hands, Chitra would excel at editing, photos and also jewels.

Catriona Gray (Miss Universe 2018) has Chitra moon. As you would see, she looks like Olivia Rodrigo (Chitra moon). Her iconic answer in M.U is Silver Lining and correlation of this nakshatra to jewels.

Most of the gay people that i known have this nakshatra

Kylie Jenner has Mars in Chitra conjunct her moon. That's why the influence of the body is very mars like nakshatra (Her sisters that have some Mars nakshatra/Sidereal mars sign have curvy BBL vibes are Kim Kardashian (Chitra sun) Khloe Kardashian (Dhanistha moon) and Kourtney Kardashian (Ashwini Sun))

SWATI

Others expect that Swati would be the Sweet side of the Libra compare to the other two (Libra side of Chitra and Vishakha), They're fvcking BLUNT!!!! They're also proud to be "Scorpios" just like Vishakha.

Common placement to have on Celebrities. Especially on states. The Celebrities we have on my home country is dominated by Mars nakshatra

In the past, I have a crush on this swati guy. First impression to him that he wasn't real (my mind is foggy remembering him, he's the first one I met to be that unique) even tho I spoke and everyday we talk on school (i didn't know vedic astrology when i met him) wasn't aware that i've been channeling this nakshatra and picking up the vibes of him. ( He loves to joke as well)

My interpretation and explanation of why Libra ( extends to Vishakha) are debilitated on this sign is the misguided aggression of this nakshatra. Some would argue that Magha and Purva phalguni have this too (Magha being cocky about it) but Libra are passive aggressive for some reason. They dont know how to properly assert themselves.

Swati are Physically attractive (you're lying if you found one ugly, or just a hater)

VISHAKHA:

I read on tumblr once, I forgot what her tumblr astrology name was but she mention that Vishakha and Cowboy correlation and I agree to this. Beyonce recently made this. In the past Miley Cyrus has Vishkaha moon and she made Jolene cover. Also, Owen Wilson famously play cowboys in his film.

I just don't know how to word this properly but Vishakha looks good (like goody two shoes good noy reffering to good looking) even if they're not (bad attitude).

If were talking about attractiveness of this nakshatra: i would say HOT, SEXY, SEDUCTIVE. Honestly, this nakshatra extends to femme fatale in my opinion.

They're fucking two face ( I know this is the symbol of Purva bhadraphada but Vishakha? Backstabbing if you're UNEVOLVED)

They great at fashion tho. If you want advice just go to Viskaha interms of beauty and fashion. They're great (among all nakshatra i considered them to be great at transforming other people, Claire nakti said this nakshatra was great for makeover so)

[blueiscoool]

Bronze Bust of Roman Emperor Caligula Rediscovered After 200 Years

The small bronze statue, which was unearthed at Herculaneum, had been missing for two centuries

A curator in England has rediscovered a tiny Roman-era bronze bust of the emperor Caligula, which had been missing for some 200 years.

The artifact was unearthed in the mid-18th century at Herculaneum, the ancient town preserved under volcanic ash since Mount Vesuvius’ eruption in 79 C.E. Then, Horace Mann, the British ambassador to Italy, acquired the five-inch-tall statue and gave it to his friend, Horace Walpole, the British writer and politician.

The two friends even exchanged letters about the 2,000-year-old bronze, according to a statement from Strawberry Hill House, Walpole’s Gothic home in London.

“I gaze on it from morning to night. It is more a portrait than any picture I ever saw,” Walpole wrote in 1767. “The hair and ears seem neglected, to heighten the expression of the eyes, which are absolutely divine, and have a wild melancholy in them, that one forebodes might ripen to madness.”

Caligula is infamous for his eccentric and cruel behavior. Legend has it that the emperor was so obsessed with his horse, Incitatus, that he tried to make the animal a consul, though this rumor is likely untrue. His reign, which began in 37 C.E., was erratic. He was assassinated after only four years in power.

Today, only seven other small-scale bronze busts of the emperor are known to exist. When Walpole died in 1797, his Roman bust changed hands several times, with some owners mistaking the visage for Alexander the Great.

Silvia Davoli, a curator at Strawberry Hill, found the lost bust in the family collection of Sir John Henry Schroder, who had purchased it in the 1890s, per the statement.

As a curator of Walpole’s former estate, Davoli was familiar with the politician’s correspondence with Mann and knew of the statue’s existence. She had also seen a drawing of it, which Walpole had commissioned from the artist John Carter. When she came across the bronze in Schroder’s collection, she was able to match it to Carter’s drawing.

Schroder doesn’t appear to have known what the statue was or where it came from. According to Strawberry Hill, the family’s collection catalogs refer to the piece as a “possible Renaissance bronze of a youth.”

“They had no idea it was Caligula,” Davoli tells the Guardian’s Richard Brooks. “I was so happy when I finally saw the bronze and made the link.”

Because the statue hadn’t become discolored over time, experts had previously assumed it dated to the 16th century. However, a recent analysis of the metal confirmed that the bronze is, in fact, ancient.

Dietrich Boschung, an expert on imperial Roman iconography at the University of Cologne in Germany, has since examined photos of the statue.

“I’m convinced it is Caligula,” Boschung tells the Guardian. For him, the statue’s piercing silver eyes are a dead giveaway—a common feature of Roman-era bronzes depicting emperors. He also finds it feasible that the piece was once at Herculaneum. “Around that time, many Roman bronzes were found there,” he adds.

To celebrate the discovery, Strawberry Hill will include the ancient bust in its upcoming exhibition, “The Art of Treasure Hunting.” Visitors can check out the tiny Caligula statue for themselves when the show opens on June 28.

By Julia Binswanger.

[stvharrngton]

closer

a/n: part 2 to fuck about it is here! it’s inspired by another parx song and one of my favourites at that :^)

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 3.3k

warnings: smut, 18+ minors dni, unprotected p in v, thigh riding, exes/fwb to lovers, soft dom!steve vibes, angst at the start

taglist: @inkluvs @dukesmebby @sweetbabygirlsworld @variant-lokitty @kennedy-brooke

I got my space but what I’d pay, for you

The red numbers on the clock read 04:37. You weren’t sure what sleep you had managed to get, if any. Steve’s soft snores next to you now are too much of a distraction.

You were in his bed, in his bedroom, but you didn’t feel present. It felt like groundhog day, same old shit different day. You and Steve would hook up after a party or a random phone call at 1AM, you’d sleep over, go back to acting like you hated each other and do it all over again a couple days later.

You went from spending every waking minute together to only seeing each other in mutual friend spaces, to only being close in secret. And man, what you wouldn’t give to go right back to the start.

It all felt too much. Too much being here, next to him, when you didn’t belong here. Not really. You had to get out.

You gently rose from the bed, fearful of waking Steve, tiptoeing your way out of his room and downstairs to the kitchen. You sighed before pouring yourself a glass of water. You contemplated if you could get back to your place in just your panties and one of Steve’s old t-shirts without raising any suspicion.

I need you closer or I need it over

“Couldn’t sleep?” A low raspy voice asked from behind you.

It would have startled you if you didn’t go through this exact routine every other week.

“Something like that.” You shrugged, taking a sip of the cool water.

You felt his eyes on you, raking up and down your body. You couldn’t bear to return the favour, his big brown eyes eager to draw you in. The chest hair decorating his pecs, the boxers hanging low on his hips all too dangerous.

“You wanna head back to bed?” Steve asked, tone calm and quiet, “It’s way too early.” He stretched his arm around your back. A simple gesture yet one you couldn’t stand.

“I’m just gonna go home, Steve.” You shrugged his arm off you, spinning on your heel to start up the stairs again.

“What? Are you crazy?!” Steve started, quick to follow you, “It’s like five in the morning, you’re not going anywhere. Just come back to bed.”

You sighed, shoulders slumping in defeat, “I don’t think I can do this anymore, Steve.”

The boy had the nerve to roll his eyes, scoffing at your statement under his breath. “Come on, this again?” He was flailing his hands about now, “This was supposed to be fun, remember? No strings attached, no feelings.”

You laughed in disbelief, “You said no feelings, Steve. You said no strings attached. You barely gave me five minutes to process our breakup which you never gave me a real reason for, by the way.”

The tears began to well in your eyes, purely out of anger and frustration. You felt awful inside, full of regret and nausea. Except you didn’t really regret entering this agreement with Steve, not in the beginning at least, longing to get those intimate moments with him whenever you could.

“But my feelings are still very much here, Steve. And it’s just, fuck–, it’s just too much. So, I’m ending it.”

‘Cause you’re the holiday I celebrate too late, you’re the eyes that I gave up trying to captivate

Steve stood there in the middle of his kitchen dumbfounded. Lips moving but no words were coming out. He couldn’t think of anything to say, nothing that would make you crawl back into bed with him at least. Instead, he let you get angrier, get more upset, he let you keep talking.

“You’re so selfish, Steve. We always hookup when you want to, on your terms. You’re saying you never once considered how I felt?”

“What do you want me to say? That I’m sorry, huh?” Steve asked, his tone a little harsh and condescending. He was tugging at his hair now, frustration evident in the tinge of red on the top of his ears.

“I want to know why.” You said, wet eyes blinking up at the boy, your lips downturned into a frown.

“Why, what?” Steve shot back with.

“I want to know why you broke up with me, Steve.” You sighed, shoulders slumped, “I deserve that much from you.”

He sighed, the angry, frustrated look on his face became one of sadness and despair. Tongue poking the side of his cheek, his eyes not able to meet your own. Instead his gaze was focused on his feet, a guilty feeling churning in his stomach.

“Cause I didn’t deserve you, okay?” He began, voice shaky, “So I sabotaged us, broke my own heart before you could, you know? Before you found someone better.”

You thought he was ridiculous, that the reason was some sort of cop out. The typical ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ schtick. But you knew Steve, and you knew when he was being serious or telling the truth and unfortunately, this was one of those times.

He grabbed your arm, wrapped his fingers around your wrist as you rolled your eyes, urging you to stay and listen. “I know it sounds crazy and really stupid but it was easier that way. It was too late before I realised I made a massive mistake.”

‘Cause I love you, or I want to, but I don’t know how

The kitchen was silent, save for the dripping tap in the kitchen sink, the ticking clock on the wall. The silence wasn’t awkward, nor was it comfortable. You were appreciative of his honesty, but it didn’t make it sting any less. Knowing that Steve threw your relationship down the toilet because of his self esteem was upsetting, especially when you thought Steve was nothing but the perfect boyfriend.

“Steve–,” your features softened, your pent up frustration faltering.

“No, let me finish, please?” Steve asked, eyes pleading, “It’s the least I owe you.”

You nodded reluctantly, stood barefoot in the middle of the kitchen at five-thirty AM. He started with a sigh, fingers running through his messy bed hair.

“I was stupid,” he started, taking your hands in his much larger ones now, “you know, I overthought everything. I acted crazy, because you– you were perfect and I loved you but I just didn’t know how to.”

His speech was heartfelt and sincere, a real tug at your heartstrings. In your time apart your feelings for Steve never once faltered, you still loved him, adored him. You felt bitterness towards him because he seemed fine, no heartbreak, no tears. What you didn’t know was that Steve’s head was still filled with thoughts of you, thoughts and dreams that kept him awake at night with a chest full of regret.

“Loved?” you breathed, doe eyes blinking up at the boy. You knew you had no right, but it hurt thinking that Steve had ever stopped loving you. Made your heart sink to the pit of your stomach, your brain was telling you to leave, to not stick around long enough to hear the end of the tragic song but your legs simply wouldn’t move.

Steve tried his luck, long fingers reaching up to stroke at your soft cheek. Your eyes fluttered closed at his touch, missing the soft intimacy you craved so much from your ex-boyfriend.

“Love.��� He whispered matter of factly, a soft smile creeping on his lips. “I love you. Never stopped.”

There was something in the way he looked at you, a glint of hope, a glimmer of longing. You tried to ignore the butterflies fluttering throughout your stomach, tried to ignore Steve’s soft lips and the sprinkling of freckles and moles across his skin.

“Why wouldn’t you say something, Steve?” You spoke softly this time, a total 180 of your prior tone. So badly you wanted to wrap your arms around him, to pull him in closer but your head was fuzzy, unsure where you stood.

“Are you kidding me?” He scoffed jokingly, “I thought you’d never want to speak to me again, let alone have a serious conversation where I begged you to take me back ‘cause I’m a giant idiot.”

“You’re right,” you chuckled, “you are a giant idiot, Harrington.”

“You can say that again.” Steve sighed, both hands reaching up to cup your cheeks now, thumbs stroking over your skin, “I know you probably have loads of questions which I will definitely answer, but right now all I can think about is kissing you.”

“Are you asking if you can kiss me?” You asked, a subtle teasing lacing your tone. Voice playful and hopeful. Steve was right, you did have questions and you had no idea where you stood but all that could wait. All you wanted was his lips on yours.

“Can I?” Steve whispered, voice all saccharine sweet, low and sultry. Lips inching in closer to yours.

You let your actions speak for you, hands climbing up his chest, dainty fingers finding their way to Steve’s neck. You saw a glimpse of his smirk before your lips were brushing against his own.

You let yourself melt into the kiss, Steve’s soft lips sucking you right in. The kiss felt different than usual, rather than hot and messy, rushed and horny, it was sweet, passionate. Slow and soft. It felt like Steve, your Steve.

It felt like a lifetime that you were stood in Steve’s kitchen, lips melding together perfectly. His large hands began to wander your body, fists bunching his old t-shirt that swamped your body. You pulled away from one another, foreheads resting against one another, the tip of Steve’s nose brushing along the slope of yours, chests heaving as you both took a breath.

The pair of you both sported wide grins as Steve mumbled out, “That was nice.”

“Yeah, it was.” You replied, voice all sing-songy, teeth gnawing on your bottom lip playfully, “I’d like to do it again sometime.”

“Yeah?” Steve chirped, thumb swiping over your bottom lip, “How ‘bout right now?”

You squealed when he wrapped his arms around your waist, hoisting you up so you could wrap your legs around him, heels crossed at his tailbone. His lips were back on yours in an instant as he carried you through to the lounge, falling back onto the couch with you in tow.

Steve’s hands wandered down your back as you were perched in his lap, your fingers curling through the strands of soft brown hair atop his head. Steve hummed at the feeling, the vibrations rumbling in his chest as he kissed you a little harder, a little deeper. You were no stranger to makeout sessions with Steve, even post breakup, but this felt right. This felt normal, like you knew you wouldn’t ever have to skip out at seven AM again before anyone saw you.

The boy pulled away from you, lips pressing short, quick kisses to the column of your throat, mumbling between pecks, “You’re perfect, my beautiful girl.” Steve cooed.

You whimpered at both the feeling of his lips on your neck and the words that left his mouth. You couldn’t help but let it hit you right in your lower stomach, pressure building with every kiss of Steve’s lips, every squeeze of your ass with his large hands.

“Your girl?” You asked innocently, eyelashes fluttering as you felt the heat rise up your body, goose pimples simultaneously covering your skin.

“That’s right, honey,” Steve breathed, “my girl.”

Your hips began to move absentmindedly. The feeling of Steve’s lips on your skin, his hands all over your body, his words an aphrodisiac and the more he kept talking, the more needy, desperate you became.

“And what does my sweet girl want, hm?” Steve asked softly, one of his hands skimming underneath your t-shirt, his fingers brushing over your tits, thumb circling over one of your nipples.

“Fuck,” you whined, arching your back and pressing your chest further into Steve’s touch, “you, Steve. I want you. Please?”

He chuckled at how fragile you sounded, your whines and whimpers only serving as music to his ears. “I’m all yours, baby.” The boy responded, hand sneaking lower, fingers circling over your clit over the material of your panties.

You let out a strangled moan at the almost-there contact, feeling the arousal poole at your core. You bucked your hips into Steve’s hand, hands bracings themselves on his shoulders as you began to grind your heat over his meaty thigh, his fingers rubbing at your clit with every movement.

“Oh, that’s it, baby,” he cooed, “there you go. That feel good, huh?”

Steve’s voice was syrupy sweet as he whispered in your ear, urging you to chase your high, to make yourself feel good at his expense. You could only respond to his question with a high pitched whine, a sound that had Steve all giddy, grinning from ear to ear.

“God, look at you, sweetheart,” Steve mused, cheeks flushed and eyes hazy with lust, “making a mess of yourself all over my thigh. Fuck.”

Your hips began to move faster, desperately trying to get yourself to your climax along with Steve’s fingers on your throbbing clit. You whimpered the boy’s name into the early morning sunrise, eyes heavy and heart longing for him.

Steve coaxed you to your first orgasm with his skilful fingers, soft words of praise and encouragement whispered under his breath. You came undone with a shrill cry, a sweet groan of curse words and pretty noises tumbled from your lips as you shook against Steve’s thigh.

He hushed you with his lips, kisses swallowing up your moans and whines. He hummed against your lips as your orgasm washed over you, your fingernails digging into his shoulders as you let the tension leave your body.

The boy had a subtle smirk on his face when you pulled away, cheeks flushed and his bottom lip settled firmly between his teeth. You giggled as you tried to hide your face away in the crook of his neck, the smell of sleep still evident on his skin.

“Ah, ah,” he teased, “let me see you.” He spoke quietly, pulling you back gently as he cupped your cheek with one hand. “Beautiful,” he cooed with a gentle kiss to your lips.

You felt the heat creep up your cheeks at his admission, the feeling of Steve’s hands on you and his hard cock pressing into your core through the cotton of his boxers ever present in the front of your mind. You felt him tense as you moved over the bulge gently, the sound music to your ears.

“Fuck,” he breathed. Steve’s eyes fluttered closed, his large hands moving to your thighs, his fingers digging into the doughy flesh. It only spurred you on, the noises leaving his pretty lips, the way his head was rolled back against the back of the couch.

“Baby,” he whined, “fuck. I gotta feel you. Please?” Steve’s eyes were wide and glassy, pupils dilated and dark. His cock was aching and begging to be touched, desperate to be swallowed by your pillowy walls.

You nodded with intent, standing up to rid yourself of your shorts and underwear as Steve did with his boxers. You watched with a slack jaw as Steve’s cock sprang to attention, hard and thick against the thick trail of hair that decorated his lower stomach.

Breath hitching in your throat, Steve lathered up his cock with his own saliva, fingers wrapping around his length as he ushered you back onto his lap. You held onto Steve’s shoulders as you lowered yourself onto his cock, both of you groaning at the stretch.

You sunk down inch by inch until Steve was buried in your pussy to the hilt. The stretch was a sweet pain, sinful and worth every wince. The boy cursed as you began to move, gentle and slow as you gave him a nod, a hint to pull you along his length. Steve could only abide as he moved his hands to your ass, palms squeezing the flesh as he pulled you back and forth in his lap.

“Jesus,” he groaned, throaty and raspy, eyes trained on your face, how your features were twisted in pleasure, “you feel so fucking good.”

You could only whine in response, mind too busy to focus on anything else except for how the tip of Steve’s cock was brushing that sweet spot deep inside you. You began to move your hips faster, fingernails leaving pretty marks in his freckled skin, your wetness dripping down Steve’s cock, a sticky mess trickling down his heavy balls.

Steve was losing his mind, the sound of skin slapping against skin, your ass coming down against his thighs as you rode him, the poor boy was in a tiz. He didn’t know where he wanted his hands most; your hips or your waist, your ass or your tits, on your face or in your hair. The decision was impossible.

Closer. Steve needed you closer. Sure, your bodies were entwined, his cock buried inside you, your hands all over each other. But it wasn’t enough. He shifted you both forward on the couch, his arms wrapped around the small of your back, your legs instinctively wrapping around his own.

You were sat chest to chest in his lap, his hand shoving your, his, t-shirt up your chest, your nipples free to brush up against the coarse hair of his chest. You both moaned out loud at the close contact, his hands on your back urging you to grind on his length.

“Fucking hell,” Steve moaned, plump lips engulfing one of your nipples, tongue licking over the bud, “you’re amazing. Can’t believe I let this pussy go.”

Word vomit of praise and lustful ramblings was Steve’s tell tale sign that he was close to his own climax, his orgasm right around the corner. Your fingers were stuck in the boy’s hair, your lips flying to his, kissing him like your life depended on it.

“Steve,” you moaned between kisses, noses knocking against one another. Your hips seemed to pick up the pace with every roll, your clit throbbing and aching.

“What’s wrong, baby?” He asked, forehead resting against yours, his big brown eyes wide and enticing. His lips brushed against your own with every word he spoke, “You making yourself feel good on my cock?”

“Yes,” you cried, eyes squeezed closed as you felt the coil in your lower stomach tighten, “please, I’m gonna cum, Stevie, shit—.”

“Yeah? Fuck,” Steve groaned, hand snaking between your clammy bodies so he could rub at your delicate clit. “gonna cum f’me, pretty? Make a mess all over my cock, yeah? That’s a good girl.”

“Oh, Steve,” you moaned loudly, eyes fluttering closed as you felt the beginnings of your orgasm rock your body. Your hips rocked faster, harder, desperately chasing your climax.

“That’s my girl,” he cooed, “gonna let me cum inside you? Fill up this pretty little pussy like she deserves.”

“Yesyesyes,” you chanted as the coil snapped, warmth spreading throughout your body as you came undone. Steve wasn’t far behind you, two more rolls of your hips and he was painting your insides with his seed.

He cried out your name like a song, face buried in your neck as his fingers dug in the skin of your waist. His toes curled in the plush carpet as he whined and whimpered into your soft flesh.

The orange-y pink glow of the sunrise over the horizon basked you both in a golden gleam. The rays covered Steve in a pretty radiance, one you hadn’t seen in a while. A weight off his shoulders, perhaps, or an old flame in his lap.

Neither of you spoke for a while, too busy taking in the comfortable silence. You hadn’t moved a muscle, cept to rest your head on the boy’s chest, his fingers drawing delicate patterns on your bare skin.

You didn’t know what this meant for you, both of you were pretty clueless where this left you, where Steve’s confession would take your relationship. But you didn’t care. Not one bit.

You only had tomorrow to look forward to now.

[cantdrawbutimhere]

After reading a post I had a question, was bored, and then I wasted hours of my life.

said question: what every coach's % in Ao3 tagging is out of the 365 fics. here's the answer that no one asked for:

Jack rose: 210 (57%)

Wanderlust: 198 ( 54%)

Brezziana: 135 ( 36%)

Mihaily: 137 ( 37%)

Sara: 127 ( 34%)

Night Swan: 126 (34%)

The Traveler: 72 ( 19%)

Mr Overload: 1 (0.2%)

Si’Ha Nova: 64 (17%)

Disco: 32 ( 8.7%)

Rubika: 3 ( 0.8%)

Giulia:2 ( 0.5%)

Panda: 19 (5.2%)

Alano: 5 (1.3%)

Lilith: 7 (1.9%)

Ari: 12 (3.2%)

Grace: 12 (3.2%)

Rasputin: 6 (1.6%)

Phoenix: 6 (1.6)

Freyja: 3 (0.82%)

Clementine: 4 (1%)

Mr. Saxobeat: 7 (1.9%)

California girls: 2 (0.5%)

Liza Friday: 19 (5.2%)

Hit the lights: 1 (0.2%)

Disturbia: 1(0.2%)

Alzena:3 (0.8%)

The sweet escape (beta): 1(0.2%)

Icona Shard: 8 (2.1%)

Skarlet gold:8 (2.1%)

Scotty <3: 10 (2.7%)

Starships: 2 (0.5%)

Topaz: 1 (0.2%)

Ruby:1 (0.2%)

Onyx:1(0.2%)

Boss witch: 11 (3.0%)

Vester:13 (3.5%)

Louise Dallas: 5 (1.3%)

Countless Butterfly: 4 (1%)

Cygnus: 35 (9.5%)

April:3 (0.8%)

Devlin: 4 (1%)

Gabriela:4 (1%)

Layl:4 (1%)

Temperature P2: 4 (1%)

Liv: 18  (4.9%)

Blake: 19 (5.2%)

Gray: 5 (1.3%)

Haze: 6 (1.6%)

Joy-ce: 4 (1%)

T-Bam<3my son: 4 (1%)

Felicia: 9  (2.4%)

Ruban: 4 (1%)

Polo: 5 (1.3%)

Unai: 2 (0.5%)

Agent D: 2 (0.5%)

Captain Catastrophe: 2 (0.5%)

Mothigan: 11 (3%)

Oshii: 1(0.2%)

Pokerface(all): 1 (0.2%)

Rich Girl: 1(0.2%)

Evachase: 2 (0.5%)

Cameron: 1 (0.2%)

Sailor: 2 (0.5%) 

Valentine: 1 (0.2%)

I like it P3: 3 (0.8%)

Sweet Sensation: 3 (0.8%)

Lauren: 1 (0.2%)

Tyler: 2 (0.5%)

Rudolf: 1(0.2%)

Pandafan: 5 (1.3%)

Deerstan: 4 (1%)

Lucero:1 (0.2%)

Mariol:1(0.2%)

DJ Lama:1(0.2%)

Small town boy:1(0.2%)

Cat:2 (0.5%)

I feel it coming: 1 (0.2%)

Lights: 1 (0.2%)

Don't Start me now:2 (0.5%)

Levitating extreme(the guard):  2 (0.5%)

Etria: 2 (0.5%)

Rosearia:2 (0.5%)

Phone Girl: 4 (1%)

Hair Man: 8 (2.1%)

Pool man:4 (1%)

Luke Cyther: 16 (4.3%)

Fuchsia Blue:1 (0.2%)

Can't hold us: 1(0.2%)

Michiya:1(0.2%)

Captain Crimson:1(0.2%)

Plum:1(0.2%)

Forgotten Queen:1(0.2%)

Moxie:1(0.2%)

Joshua: 1(0.2%)

Mayble: 3 (0.8%)

Keenen:1 (0.2%)

Brooke:1 (0.2%)

Isaac:1 (0.2%)

Doran:1 (0.2%)

Diego:1 (0.2%)

Rock N' roll Will get you up the mountain: 5 (1.3%)

Hadley: 4 (1%)

Banagrange (both): 2 (0.5%)

Till I find you: 1 (0.2%)

Migul:1 (0.2%)

Arleen: 3 (0.8%)

Im an Albatraoz: 2 (0.5%) 

A little Party Killed nobody: 1 (0.2%)

Bang bang:1 (0.2%)

Ann. G Lina:11 (3.0%)

Venus coach:1 (0.2%)

Selios: 5 (1.3%)

Triton: 3 (0.8%)

Lets save the planet: 3 (0.8%)

Stop, drop, roll: 2 (0.5%)

Happy: 1 (0.2%)

Kill this love: 1 (0.2%)

Adameve:1(0.2%)

Baby one more time: (1:1=(0.2%)) (2:2=(0.5%)) (3:1(0.2%)) (4:1(0.2%))

Rave in the grave: 1 (0.2%)

Crystal: 6 (1.6%)

Pulse: 4 (5?) (1%, 1.3%?)

Dolores:ew 6 (1.6%)

Love again: 1 (0.2%)

Chaves: 4 (1%)

Estrella: 6 (1.6%)

Juan: 4 (1%)

Kimby Bill: 4 (1%)

Russil Bill: 4 (1%)

Teddy Bill: 10 (2.7%)

The Bride: 11 (3%)

 Calypso: 2 (0.5%)

Talia Sway: 13 (3.5%)

Shadow rider: 3 (0.8%)

Epsilon: 7 (1.9%)

Lacrosma: 1 (0.2%)

Alec: 1 (0.2%)

All the stars: 1 (0.2%))

Sacrifice C2:6 (1.6%) 

Girlfriend (both): 1(0.2%)

Bonnie: 1(0.2%)

Clyde:1(0.2%)

Jopping P1: 2 (0.5%)

Jopping P2: 3 (0.8%)

Jopping P3:2 (0.5%)

Aureain:2 (0.5%)

Dark Horse:1 (0.2%)

I kissed a girl:2 (0.5%)

Rare:1 (0.2%)

Beedabop:5 (1.3%)

Kaa’riki 1 (0.2%)

Masi’el: 1 (0.2%)

Body moving: 3 (0.8%)

did I miss some? I bet. my sanity ran out.

if you for some reason read all of this, why? But have a great day/night!

[sailorjojogames]

100+ maxis match hairs for black sims + cc links | cc showcase

Watch video 

Many thanks to all the cc creators. This showcase is also more of an archive. 📚🧾

Women

@birksche  1.

@okruee  2.  3 and 4. 

@plunni  5. 

@okruee   6.  7.

@savvysweet  8.

@oplerims  9.  10. [my fave accessory with this hair  @candysims4  Flower crown]   11.

@oakiyo  12.  13.  14.

@saurusness  15.

@imvikai   16.

@aharris00britney   17.  18. 19.  20.  21.  22.  23.  24.  25,  26 and 27.  28.   29 and 30.  31 and 32. 33.  34 and 35.  36 and 37.  38.  39.  40 and 41.

@vernonsvault   42.

@imvikai   43.  44.   45 and 46. 

@greenllamas  47.  48 and 49.  50.

@sheabuttyr    51.  MORE

@old-dogsill ( @dogsill )   52.

@dogsill    53.  54.  55.

@leeleesims1  56.   alternative 1  2

@old-dogsill  ( @dogsill )  57.

@simstrouble    58.  (OLD CC- download at your own risk)   59.

@simancholy  60. 

@ebonixsims  61.  MORE

@nolan-sims  62. MESH is ^ 61. 

@aladdin-the-simmer  63.  64.

@wondercarlotta  65.

@shespeakssimlish  66.

@simtric   67.  68.

@shespeakssimlish   69.

@shysimblr  70.

@simtric    71.  72.

@vampireloreskill  73.

@savvysweet  74. nala   75. wendy wavy buns

@shysimblr  76, 77 and 78. also has a child and toddler version ❤ 

@renorasims & @imvikai  79. 

 @candysims4  80.   

 @savvysweet  81. hasina   82. frankie fro v2    83. frankie fro

 @shysimblr  84.  

@savvysweet  85. lydia locs   86. dana unavailable 😥 alternative  

87. danika dreads   88. lana   89. lana v2 unavailable 😥 alternative

90. bali braids  91. ava afro puff (large)   92. drida dreads  93. didi dreads

 94. danni dreads  95. daya dreads   96.unavailable 😥 alternative  

97. libby locs v2   98. brook braids  (loc’d up)   99. brook braids

100. casey curls   101. fatima fro   102. alisha afro with pearls

103. badu bantu   104. ava afro puff small   105. amari afro with clips

106. tiana twist (loc’d up)

Savvy X Grim (now @akalukery)   107.

@savvysweet  108. bia braids   109. farah finger   clips 1  clips 2  clips 3

Headwrap 

1 & 4.   @frenchiesimgirl

2 & 3 unavailable :( download at your own risk 😥 )  Link  

Bonnet  @qwertysims

Men

@candysims4  110.  

@savvysweet  111. lamont locs 

@aharris00britney  112.

@birksche  113. 

@savvysweet 114. lenny locs 

@savvysweet  115. chris cornrows (shorts)   116. chris cornrows (medium)

  117. chris cornrows (long) unavailable 😥

@qrqr19  118. Hair 08 Topaz   119. Hair 23 Calcite

@savvysweet 120. fresh prince fade   121.dameon dreads  122. tyrone twist

123 damon dreads unavailable 😥   124. tommy top curls

@qwertysims  125. 

@birksche  126. 

@sheabuttyr  127. leo locs 

@sleepingsims  128.

@sheabuttyr   129. fana fro V1 

Toddler & Child

@frenchiesimgirl  130 and 131. 

@shysimblr  132.  

@shysimblr  133.  

@shespeakssimlish  134. 

@shysimblr  135.   136.  137.

138. Hair puff ball  unavailable  😥

@shysimblr  139.

@hazelminesims 140. HazelMineSeasonsBraidPuffTodd (old cc download at your own risk)

@birksche 141. 

@shysimblr 142.  143.

@weepingsimmer  144.

 @shysimblr  145.

146.  EP01 Afro Cropped - unavailable  😥

@sleepingsims  147. 

@shysimblr  148.    

Just in case some of the links don’t work 😥... try wayback 

if you have any question feel free to dm me. 

@sailorjojosimsccfinds   @maxismatchccworld​  

[wildandmoody]

Verified Palestinian fundraisers that have reached out to me in the past week

@nabila6 (8,666/10,000 - close to goal)

@dodooomar1 (5,008/40,000) low on funds

@ahmaedworld1 (7,714/60,000) low on funds

@ghada-family (4,205/20,000) low on funds

@hananfamily (4,876/30,000) low on funds

@fayezjadallah (8,814/25,000)

@kareman-palestine1 (18,530/75,000)

@familygazaamal1 (7,379/30,000)

@ghadeerarqan (10,679/20,000)

@nadafarra999 (2,234/20,000) low on funds

[differentpostrebel]

Lost and Found: A Pirate's Promise

Chapter 37: The King’s Fall – Luffy vs. Doflamingo

A/N: Yall when I tell you this chapter I was emotional, and laughing like Sanjis POV, and we finally find out who the groom and bride to be is for the second arranged marriage which will take place in whole cake island. We are wrapping up the Dressrosa arc, and hitting Zou (only for like 4 chapters, its mainly filler) and then its all Whole Cake. When I tell you, tension will be there, Spice, Drama, infidelity…. And more!” We will also be getting our first Bonus Chapter! And its non other than DonQuixote Doflamingos POV leading to him in impel down, we are about to see what he thought in that moment. Thank you guys so much for following along, and reading, liking, sharing, commenting. And without further ado let the adventure begin!

Word Count: 11K 

Sanji POV… 

It had been a few days since we arrived at Zou. The destruction we witnessed, the carnage left behind, still lingered in my mind. The Mink Tribe had faced an invasion, and with the help of Chopper, Tristan, Miagi, and that no-good Caesar—by force, of course, since the annihilation was caused by one of his damned gases—they managed to treat the injured. Although we were initially perceived as a threat, Wanda quickly realized we weren’t part of Jack’s crew when Tristan and Pedro vouched for us.

But now, as I stood here with Nami, Chopper, Brook, and Caesar, facing off against Pekoms and Capone Bege, I realized that I faced a new kind of challenge.

Pekoms, grateful we saved the Mink Tribe, had been ready to call Big Mom and tell her the mission failed.

“What are you talking about? What mission?” I demanded, already gearing up for a fight.

Before I could blink, Bege shot Pekoms. My eyes widened as I watched the blood spray, leaving Pekoms crumpled in a heap.

“Where’s the girl, Blackleg?” Bege growled, eyes sweeping the room as if searching for someone.

“If you’re thinking about hurting Nami, you’ve got another thing coming!” I spat, as Nami, Chopper, Brook, and even Caesar were bound in chains.

“Why don’t you come inside so we can discuss this like gentlemen,” Bege sneered, ushering us all into his fortress-like body.

He poured wine as if nothing had happened. “Now, Blackleg, I won’t ask again. Where’s the girl?”

“What girl?” I snapped, still trying to figure out how the hell we were going to get out of this.

“The one named Princess Y/N,” he said, his voice colder now.

My breath caught. I barely managed to stifle my gasp.

“Why the hell do you want her?” I demanded, anger boiling inside me. How dare he even mention her name.

“Take it easy, Blackleg,” he said, pulling out two invitations and tossing them at me. “You’re set to marry the 35th daughter of the Charlotte Family, Pudding.” He gestured toward the paper, where it was written clear as day: Groom: Vinsmoke Sanji. Bride: Charlotte Pudding.

“What?!” Nami, Chopper, and Brook yelled in unison, their eyes wide in shock.

“Sanji! What gives?!” Nami struggled against her binds.

“Tea party, my ass,” I growled. “I’m not going to Big Mom’s tea party, and I’m definitely not marrying her daughter! Besides, I’m already engaged to be married—and that’s with Y/N!”

“What?!” Nami, Chopper, and Brook echoed once again, even more confused now.

Brook leaned toward Nami and muttered, “I just know this is a one-sided marriage, because the last time I checked, Y/N didn’t agree to anything, let alone marriage.”

Before they could react, Bege revealed a second invitation, the paper unfolding slowly like some twisted joke.

“She was also invited to Mama’s tea party, but as a bride herself,” Bege said, his voice thick with amusement.

The second invitation read: Groom: Vinsmoke Ichiji. Bride: Princess Y/L/N, Y/N.

My world tilted. My hands clenched, fists trembling in rage.

“What the hell is this?!” I growled, my voice dark and deadly. “I’ll be damned if I let them near her, let alone marry one of those bastards.”

Bege leaned back, as if enjoying the show. “Your father put in that invitation. Since she’s going to be a bride to the first child of the Vinsmokes, Judge thought it fitting to have all his children reunited for the occasion. Her wedding will be held first, and then yours will follow,” he said, savoring every word.

I gritted my teeth, barely able to contain myself. "Over my dead body."

“Oh, and if you’re wondering where your charming older brother is, Vinsmoke Ichiji would’ve been here today, but he’s busy handling ‘business’ for Judge. He’s very eager to see his bride-to-be. Apparently, he was the one who pushed to make this marriage happen, and Judge went along with it.”

My blood boiled at the thought of Ichiji, of him thinking he could lay a finger on Y/N. I’ll kill him before I let that happen.

“You’re playing with fire, Bege,” I hissed, glaring at him. “And trust me, you’ll get burned.”

Bege grinned, clearly amused by my outburst. “Just remember, Blackleg. If you don’t cooperate, it’s not just your life on the line—it’s hers too. And you wouldn’t want that now, would you?”

I clenched my fists even tighter, the weight of it all pressing down on me. My mind raced, thinking of Y/N and what Ichiji might do if I wasn’t there to protect her.

Y/N POV..

I lay beside Law, breathing softly, feeling the weight of exhaustion. “Alright, let’s get you fixed and healed,” said Leo, his little needle poised for action. I glanced up, smiling at him despite the pain. “So you must be Leo. I’ve heard so much about you.”

Leo blushed, a hint of fluster creeping onto his cheeks at the compliment. I turned to the other figure beside him. “And you must be Princess Mansherry. The pleasure’s all mine,” I said with a soft smile.

Leo, now positioned on top of me, made me hiss in pain. “Princess, we may need to remove this dress, as it won’t let me get to the injury,” he said, still blushing.

“You’re right. This corset dress will only wear me down and won’t let you access the wound,” I replied in a hushed tone. I slowly turned to face Law, who was already looking at me, his gaze intense and concerned.

I then looked over at Cavendish, who was wearing a shirt that might help the process. “Cabbage, I know this may be forward of me, but do you mind lending me your white shirt and… ripping my dress with your sword?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

Cavendish blushed, clearly taken aback by my request. “Princess… I—”

“Oh come on, Cabbage! Don’t get all flustered now,” I groaned, rolling my eyes playfully. “Just do it already!”

With a chuckle, Cavendish finally relented. “Alright, alright. Just don’t blame me if this goes horribly wrong.” He carefully sliced the fabric of my dress, his movements precise yet gentle, ensuring I wouldn’t feel more pain than necessary.

As the material fell away, I took a deep breath, feeling a mixture of vulnerability and relief. “Thank you, Cabbage,” I said softly, meeting his gaze for a moment before looking back at Leo.

“Is this better?” I asked, and he nodded as he got to work on my injured torso and side.

Cavendish kept trying to look away, his cheeks flushing ever so often, while I noticed Law's cheeks were also a darker shade of red. I smirked, feeling a playful spark. “Law, if you wanted to get a look at me this way, you could have just asked,” I chuckled, teasing him.

Leo focused intently, and as he finished sewing up my torso and side, I felt the familiar warmth of Princess Mansherry's healing powers begin to flow through me. A soothing sensation washed over my injuries, and I started to feel a bit better with the process.

“What a surprise, I never knew there were little people in Dressrosa, and their princess can heal injuries like magic—something out of a fairy tale,” Cabbage commented, glancing between Leo and Princess Mansherry with astonishment.

I smiled at both of them, their dedication lifting my spirits. “You two are incredible. Thank you for everything,” I said softly, my breath steadying.

Leo gave a shy smile, clearly flustered. “It’s nothing, Princess. I’m just glad I can help.”

“Alright, Princess, I’ll need you to turn on your left side so I can tend to your right arm,” Leo instructed gently. I carefully shifted, holding my dress up to cover what was necessary.

“And don’t forget about my right palm, Leo,” I added, watching him as he worked.

He nodded, his focus on stitching up my wounds. “Got it! I won’t miss a thing.”

While I let Leo and Mansherry do their work, I noticed Cabbage glancing toward the palace. His expression seemed distant. “How’s it looking?” I asked, my energy slowly returning, feeling less pain in my arm.

“Honestly, I can’t tell from here,” Cabbage replied, his tone more serious now.

“All done, Princess!” Leo said proudly as he finished stitching up my arm and palm, Mansherry’s healing abilities working wonders to speed up the recovery.

I sat up, holding my front to keep the torn dress in place. “Thank you both so much,” I said with sincerity, extending my hand for them to climb on.

After they hopped off, I turned to Cabbage, feeling a playful smirk form. “Now, about that arrangement regarding your shirt…”

Cabbage smirked back, catching onto my tease. “Oh? Does the princess plan to keep it as a souvenir? I’m starting to think you just wanted an excuse for me to be shirtless,” he quipped with a playful wink.

I rolled my eyes, a chuckle slipping out. “Believe me, I can live without it.”

Cabbage handed me his shirt, still grinning. As I slipped it on, the soft fabric hung loosely, the V-neck dipping just enough to reveal a hint of my chest. It stopped mid-thigh, making me feel somewhat exposed, but it was better than the torn dress.

"Fits like a charm," Cabbage teased, crossing his arms with a smirk.

Law shot him a glare, wincing as Leo continued stitching his arm. 

"And done, Law-land!" Leo chirped, while Princess Mansherry used her healing powers to help speed up Law's recovery. After a few moments, the pain in his arm began to ease.

Cabbage and I sat together in a comfortable silence, both of us glancing occasionally toward Law, who lay down on the grass, his eyes fixed on the top of the palace. “They say your arm should be back in working order as soon as the blood begins to circulate,” Cabbage said, casting a glance at Law.

“I know... I'm a doctor,” Law muttered.

I turned to him, placing my hand gently over his, giving it a reassuring squeeze before letting go. Law blinked and glanced at me for a second, his expression softening before he turned his focus back to the palace.

“When I saw that underground port, one thing became clear,” Cabbage started again, his voice serious. “This is much bigger than one man. Even if we defeat Doflamingo, the battle won’t be over. It'll send ripples across the world, and all eyes will be on you and Strawhat."

Law opened his eyes, staring at the sky for a moment, absorbing Cabbage’s words. "Yeah... that was the plan," Law replied quietly, his gaze returning to the palace, his mind already thinking ahead to what came next.

Just then, a loud crash echoed through the town as something massive fell from the palace.

"What the hell just happened?!" I exclaimed, scrambling to my feet despite still feeling the effects of the battle.

"Y/N, get back," Law warned, his tone serious.

"Not when my captain might be down there, Law!" I shot back, glancing to make sure my blades were still secured at my sides.

“Strawhat! He’s so different now. If he can overpower Doflamingo, then he must be strong,” Cabbage noted, his eyes wide with admiration.

“Yeah, but he’s overusing his Haki,” Law pointed out, concern lacing his voice.

I clenched my left hand, feeling the familiar power of the ring coursing through me. “With this damn Birdcage shrinking, it’s only going to make matters worse,” I said, casting a worried glance at Law.

Just then, King Riku’s voice boomed over the chaos, making an announcement to the entire town of Dressrosa. “We just need to deal with one tyrant—Doflamingo! The brave soul facing him is Luffy from the Straw Hats! I must remind you all of one thing: win or lose, try to survive no matter what it takes. I implore you to keep running, for a few minutes, please try to survive!”

His words echoed through the town, a beacon of hope amid the chaos. “There is still hope for us, which is why you mustn't surrender yet!” King Riku urged, his voice steady and strong.

“What a devastating blow…” Cabbage murmured, his expression shifting. “Wait, did Luffy—”

I felt a glimmer of relief that this nightmare might be over as I slowly made my way toward Law and Cabbage. “Wait! Look at the sky!” Law exclaimed, his voice sharp.

“No…” I breathed, my heart sinking as I looked up. “Damn Birdcage is still there!”

“Damn!” I yelled in frustration. “Doflamingo isn’t dead yet.”

“Damn it! We gotta do something!” I insisted, feeling anger boil within me. My eyes fell on Luffy, who was hitting the ground hard. “Luffy!” I shouted. “What happened?!”

“Hahahah!” A voice rang out from above us, and my stomach dropped.

“That’s Jesus Burgess! What’s he doing here?!” Cabbage exclaimed.

“Shit! I gotta do something now!” I declared, ready to charge down to confront him. But as I moved, pain shot through my sides, causing me to stumble back.

“Y/N, wait!” Law warned, concern etching his features.

Suddenly, I sensed someone approaching from my side. A girl with short red hair stood before me. “Who are you?” I demanded, defensive.

Cabbage tensed, ready to stand, but I raised my hand. “Don’t.”

“My, it’s so nice to finally meet you, actually,” she said, stepping forward and wrapping me in a hug. I froze, unsure whether to reciprocate or push her away.

“Oh right!” she exclaimed, stepping back slightly. “My name is Koala,” she introduced, holding up a transponder snail.

Just then, a familiar voice crackled through the device. “Koala, can you hear me?” It was Sabo. My eyes widened, and I noticed Koala’s smile.

“Yeah, I can hear you. Don’t worry, you need to get to downtown. Burgess is on his way to Luffy,” she said urgently.

“I’m on my way!” Sabo replied, determination lacing his tone, ready to protect his brother.

Koala turned to look at me, smiling. I met her gaze with tears in my eyes. "He’s okay," I thought, feeling a wave of relief wash over me.

“Actually, Sabo, before you go, I have someone you might want to hear,” Koala said, smirking as she handed me the transponder snail.

“Koala, I don’t have ti—” he started, but I cut him off.

“Sabo…” I whispered, my heart racing.

“Y/N!” he exclaimed, his voice filled with a mix of relief and anguish. “You’re okay! Are you hurt? Oh my god!”

I chuckled, tears still glistening in my eyes. “I’m fine, Sabo, but I need you to help Luffy. Burgess can’t get to Luffy; I’ll see what I can do with Doflamingo, even if I have to buy some time again.”

“Don’t be stupid, Y/N!” Sabo shot back, frustration and worry evident in his voice.

“I know it’s risky,” I said, determination filling my voice. “But I can’t just sit back while Luffy’s in danger. I have to do something!”

“He’s right!” Law reiterated, his voice cutting through the tension as he eyed me with concern.

“Sabo, just try to keep Burgess off Luffy’s back,” I said, determination clear in my tone. “I’ll handle whatever comes my way up here. You focus on him.”

Sabo let out a short laugh, the kind that said he knew me all too well. “You’ve always been reckless. Even when we first met, you threw yourself headfirst into danger without a second thought.”

I couldn’t help but smirk, rolling my eyes. “I haven’t changed much, have I?”

“Not at all,” he teased through the transponder snail. “Just try not to get captured again. I’ve got enough on my hands without having to worry about saving you.”

I chuckled softly, wiping away the emotional tension that had built up. “I’ll be fine, Sabo. I’ve survived worse. Just get Burgess away from Luffy and we’ll be one step closer to ending this nightmare.”

He let out a sigh, half amused, half exasperated. “Fine, fine. But I swear, Y/N, you’ve got this habit of making things harder for yourself. Just don’t push too far.”

“Look who’s talking,” I shot back, grinning. “You’re not exactly known for playing it safe.”

“That’s fair,” he admitted with a laugh. “Just keep your head on straight. And Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“Save a little of that fight for when we see each other again, okay? I owe you for always running headfirst into danger.”

I smiled, a deep warmth settling over me. “Deal.”

I handed the transponder snail back to Koala.

“You sure you’ll be alright?” she asked, concern lacing her voice.

I turned behind me to eye both Law and Cabbage. “Yeah, besides I gotta make sure this one…” I said, kneeling down to grab Law’s cheeks, eliciting a slight gasp from him, “makes it out okay as well.”

Law’s cheeks began to turn pink, and I couldn’t help but chuckle at his reaction. “You really have a way of making things interesting, don’t you?” he teased, trying to regain his composure.

“Only the best for you, Law,” I replied, grinning.

“Koala, please make sure you’re safe as well,” I added, smiling at her.

She returned my smile before jumping off the cliff, heading into town to find Sabo. As I turned back to Law and Cabbage, I felt a rush of determination. Just as I was about to sit back down, both Law and I were suddenly teleported to a new location.

“Wait!” I exclaimed as we hit the ground. “You could have told me you were going to shamble us, you know,” I muttered, struggling to get up. I lifted my head and saw someone carrying Luffy, surrounded by others.

“Luffy!” I shouted, starting to make my way toward them.

“Woah! It can’t be! Trafalgar Law, the Warlord, and Princess Y/N! From the strawhat pirates!” someone exclaimed, eyes wide.

“Wait a sec, are you running too far away? Is Strawhat going to get his Haki back or not?” Law asked, irritation lacing his voice.

“Yeah, well, Strawhat said he needed ten minutes, and we have about three and a half left,” the bystander replied.

“Good, I’ll distract Doflamingo then,” I said, clenching my fists as electricity and fire coursed through me.

“Don’t you dare, Y/N!” Law shouted, anguish flooding his voice as he struggled to get up.

“Law, that decision isn’t yours to make. I will protect my captain and you, even if it kills me,” I replied firmly, urgency flooding my heart. “Luffy can handle the rest when the time comes.”

“Damn it, you’re always so reckless!” Law shot back, frustration etched on his face. “You think I can just sit back and watch you throw yourself into danger? What if something happens to you?”

“Something already happened to me, Law!” I snapped, my fears bubbling to the surface. “I’ve been hurt before, and I’m still here! I can’t just do nothing!”

His eyes softened, a storm of emotions swirling within them. “I don’t want to lose you. Not again.”

The weight of his words pressed down on me, and I felt my heart clench. “You won’t lose me, I promise,” I said, trying to reassure him even as uncertainty gnawed at me. “Just trust me.”

He turned to the bystander, his tone commanding. “Give Luffy to me. I’ll take care of everything from here.”

I turned back to Law, wanting to lighten the mood. “Do you still have the tiara I gave you?”

He pulled it out, a flicker of a smile breaking through the tension. “What, you think I’d forget something so precious?”

I took it from him, warmth flooding my chest. Leaning in, I planted a quick kiss on his cheek. “Just making sure you remember me,” I teased, my voice wavering slightly.

He rolled his eyes, but the hint of a smile lingered. “Yeah, yeah.”

“Now, I’m ready.” I clenched my left hand, activating its power as I leaped into the air, determination surging through me, even as Law’s worried gaze burned into my back

I soared through the sky for a moment, scanning for Doflamingo. "Where did this bastard go..." I thought, frustration building.

Just then, I spotted Doflamingo alongside Viola and Rebecca. "Viola, Rebecca?!" I thought, shock coursing through me. What the hell are they doing here?! I watched as Rebecca lunged at Viola with her weapon, and my heart sank. "Shit, she's being controlled," I realized. "Doflamingo!"

I landed behind him, my voice steady despite the chaos. He turned, a mocking smile spreading across his face. “My, well if it isn’t my princess,” he purred, feigning surprise. Doflamingo’s eyes sparkled with amusement as he manipulated Viola’s strings, hanging her helplessly. "Now what brings you here?" he asked, an almost predatory glint in his gaze.

“I came to see you,” I said, infusing my voice with a sultry tone. “You don’t need them. You want someone strong, someone who will give you a real challenge.” I took a deliberate step closer, feeling the tension crackle in the air.

“You’ve changed from the outfit,” he observed, his gaze roving over me with a hunger that sent chills down my spine.

He suddenly released Viola and Rebecca, who rushed to each other. “Viola!” Rebecca yelled, enveloping her in a relieved hug. "Good, they’re safe," I thought, relief washing over me. I glanced at Viola, who looked at me with a mix of confusion and gratitude. I smiled, silently hoping she would understand my intentions.

“Princess, I must say you really do know how to surprise me,” Doflamingo said, a blend of intrigue and desire evident in his voice. His fascination was palpable, and I could sense the shift in his demeanor as I drew closer, determined to keep his focus on me and away from the chaos unfolding around us.

“What’s the matter? Are you not intrigued by your little princess’s transformation?” I teased, stepping even closer, daring him to take the bait.

"I'm not surprised you’re here, but I must say, I've never felt this intense of a rush before until today, Doffy." I stepped closer, my voice steady despite the danger.

He raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. “Is that so? You always were one to draw attention,” he replied, his tone dripping with amusement.

I stepped closer, “When you kissed my neck,” I said, a playful edge to my voice, “I yelped in surprise. I wondered what else you could do with that mouth of yours.” My gaze roamed over him, drinking in his reaction.

Doflamingo chuckled softly, the sound low and dangerous. “You’re playing a dangerous game, princess.”

I continued, undeterred. “When Baby 5 took me to your quarters and I saw how spacious your room was, I couldn’t help but wonder... what if you had come in instead of her? What if it was you giving me the outfit you chose for our little game?” My blades began to glow faintly, a flicker of power at my fingertips.

Doflamingo's eyes darkened, intrigue flickering in their depths. “And as I recall, you said I would be begging for mercy, but let’s be honest: is it mercy you crave, or something more?”

He stepped closer, the tension between us thickening. “And when you found me in that office,” I challenged, “tell me, how hard was it to resist acting on those inner desires that plagued your mind from the moment I set foot in Dressrosa?”

“You want the truth, princess?” His voice was low, a rasp that sent an involuntary shiver through me. “The moment I saw you step foot into Dressrosa, I knew you’d be trouble. But I couldn’t stop thinking about what it would feel like to break you... or to have you willingly surrender.”

His hand moved lower, tracing the line of my collarbone as he spoke. “In that office, I was this close—" he pinched the air between his thumb and forefinger, "—to letting those desires take over. You, standing there, trying to play your games with me... every time you talked back, every glance you threw my way, made it harder not to act.”

He chuckled darkly, his fingers now trailing dangerously close to my throat. “You have no idea how tempting it was to claim you right then and there, make you mine in ways no one else ever could. But patience, my dear, is a virtue—one I rarely indulge in, but for you… I’m willing to wait. Because when I do take you, it will be on my terms, when you least expect it.”

His hand lingered, the air between us growing heavier with each passing second. “I’ve never been one to resist what I want, princess. And I’ve wanted you from the moment I saw that fire in your eyes. You act so tough, so defiant. But deep down, I know there’s a part of you that wants to see how far you can push me... and how far I’ll take you.”

I could feel the heat of his gaze burning through me as he leaned in, his breath hot against my ear. “So tell me, Y/N, what’s more dangerous? The game we’re playing now... or the moment when I finally decide to stop playing and make you mine?”

The weight of his confession hung in the air, thick with tension, as his words wrapped around me like a vice. I could see the hunger in his eyes, a hunger that told me he meant every word.

Doflamingo’s smirk deepened, his eyes darkening with desire. "You really do crave danger, don't you, Princess? Standing here, tempting me like this... Do you even know what you're playing with?"

I tilted my head slightly, a confident smile spreading across my lips. “Oh, I know exactly what I’m playing with, Doffy. It’s the thrill of walking the edge, not knowing if you'll catch me... or let me fall.”

His fingers grazed the collar of my dress shirt, tracing the V-neckline slowly, teasingly. “You’re bold, I’ll give you that. But playing with fire can burn, Princess.”

I leaned in just slightly, closing the distance. “Maybe I like the heat,” I whispered, my voice daring him to cross that line.

Doflamingo’s breath hitched, his restraint cracking as the raw hunger in his gaze flared. “You have no idea what you’re in for,” he growled, stepping even closer until there was nothing but the electric tension between us.

Doflamingo stepped forward, the space between us vanishing in an instant, his presence overpowering. The air around him buzzed with energy, his intent clear. “Doffy,” I began, my voice steady but teasing, “it does make me wonder... what does a warlord, and a former celestial dragon, really know about pleasing a woman like me? Ever pondered that thought?”

His finger traced the edge of my V-neck shirt slowly, almost lazily, sending an involuntary thrill down my spine. His smirk deepened, a wicked gleam flashing in his eyes. “Oh, Princess, you have no idea what you’re playing with. I’ve mastered things that would make your wildest fantasies seem tame.”

He leaned in, close enough for his breath to graze my neck, his voice like velvet, dark and tempting. “Pleasure is a game, and I’ve always been one to rewrite the rules. You say you enjoy danger—well, tell me, Princess, are you ready to dance with the devil himself?”

I felt my heart race as he leaned in, his lips almost brushing against my ear. “You have the power to ignite every desire I have. But be warned, once you step into my world, there’s no turning back.” I subtly clenched my right hand, feeling the strength flow through me.

Doflamingo smirked, his eyes glinting with mischief. Before I could react, he pulled me closer by the waist, catching me off guard. “You know, Princess,” he whispered, his breath warm against my skin, “the closer you get, the more tempting this all becomes.”

I felt a shiver run down my spine as our bodies nearly touched, his grip firm yet surprisingly gentle. “What are you playing at, Doffy?” I managed to ask, keeping my voice steady despite the nerves in me.

He leaned in, his lips brushing against my ear again. “Just exploring all the possibilities. You’re quite the distraction, but a welcome one.”

“Distraction? Or a challenge?” I replied, my mind racing. “I’m not here to make it easy for you.”

He chuckled softly, his eyes darkening with desire. “I wouldn’t want it any other way. But be careful; you might just enjoy the game as much as I do.”

As he held me closer, I felt the power of my blades surging, ready to unleash at any moment. The tension hung thick in the air, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that this dance was only just beginning. Just then, Doflamingo leaned in, placing a kiss on my neck once more, and my heart raced in response.

Instinctively, I wrapped my arms around his neck, holding him in place as I subtly connected my left palm, feeling the energy crackle to life. The electricity surged, glowing with a bright yellow hue as I clenched my right hand tighter, readying my surprise.

“Doffy,” I breathed out, feigning breathlessness. “What do you think happens when desire creates an electric spark?”

His smirk faltered for a moment, intrigue sparking in his eyes. “What are you—”

“Just a little something for you to ponder,” I cut in, my voice low and teasing. “Now, shock!” I exclaimed, unleashing the pent-up energy coursing through me. A powerful jolt of electricity surged toward him, illuminating the space between us.

He stumbled back, eyes wide in disbelief, momentarily caught off guard. I seized the moment, executing a swift back handspring that created distance between us. The tension shifted from seduction to confrontation, and I felt the thrill of the fight ignite my spirit.

“Did you really think I’d let you have your way so easily?” I taunted, my hand glowing in anticipation as I readied myself for whatever he would throw at me next.

Doflamingo regained his footing, a mix of amusement and fury dancing in his eyes. “You’ve got quite the spark, Princess. But you’ll find that playing with fire can lead to some devastating consequences.” 

I smirked, holding my ground, unfazed by his words. “What’s wrong, Doffy? I thought you liked a challenge.” My voice was steady, but my heart raced, adrenaline flooding my veins.

Suddenly, Doflamingo vanished from my sight, appearing behind me with lightning speed. My instincts kicked in, and I lifted my right leg, aiming a sharp kick toward his side. He blocked it effortlessly, his smirk widening. I used the momentum to push off him, performing another quick back handspring to put some distance between us.

“Why don’t you be a good girl and come this way,” Doflamingo purred, his voice dripping with dark amusement as he launched a thread-based attack in my direction.

I dodged it with a swift sidestep, the threads barely missing me by inches. “Astounding, ladies and gentlemen! The princess is now facing Doflamingo in a one-on-one combat!” boomed an unexpected voice from above.

“Who the hell…?” I muttered, glancing around, but my brief distraction cost me.

In a flash, Doflamingo’s arm snaked around me, his grip vice-like as he grabbed me and hurled me toward a nearby wall. I crashed into it with brutal force, the impact knocking the wind out of me. I gasped, struggling to regain my breath as I slid down the cracked stone, my body screaming in pain.

“Stay focused, Princess,” Doflamingo taunted, stepping toward me with slow, predatory steps. “It would be a shame for our little game to end so soon.”

His fist swung toward me, but I dodged it just in time, clenching my left hand and leaping into the air to create distance. "You think you can escape me?" Doflamingo sneered, looking up from below, his eyes gleaming with predatory intent.

Every time he sent his strings after me, I dodged them quickly, maneuvering through the air. My heart pounded as I silently urged Luffy to hurry. "Come on, Luffy, we're running out of time," I thought, desperately trying to keep ahead of Doflamingo’s relentless pursuit.

He lifted himself into the air, closing the gap between us with a quick surge of his threads. He swung again, aiming a punch at me, but I blocked it, my arms straining from the impact. “I don’t want to use my blades... not yet,” I thought, trying to hold off the full extent of my power.

Doflamingo's smirk widened as I continued to block his attacks. “My princess, always so defiant. But there’s something you need to understand...” he purred, his voice laced with dark amusement. “In the end, you’ll always end up in my grasp.”

Before I could react, Doflamingo's fist crashed against my cheek, landing with brutal force. The sheer power of his punch sent me hurtling toward the ground. I hit the earth with a loud, painful thud, the impact reverberating through my bones.

The world spun for a moment, my vision blurred as I tried to regain my senses. Pain radiated through my body, but I gritted my teeth, pushing myself to my knees. I wiped the blood from my mouth, glaring up at him.

His laughter echoed around me, a sickening sound that only fueled my determination.

I clenched my right hand once more, feeling the familiar surge of strength travel up my arm. “Doflamingo…” I said, my voice hoarse, coughing slightly from the impact of his last blow.

“It won’t be much longer now!” The loud voice of the announcer echoed through the streets. “Our hero is on his way! Surely, you remember him! Or should I remind you?!”

“Luffy...” I thought, a flicker of hope surging within me. If the announcer was right, Luffy was seconds away from being here. Doflamingo seemed momentarily distracted by the voice, his eyes narrowing as if the mention of Luffy reignited an old fury.

Seeing my chance, I clenched my left hand, the energy surging through me as I pushed off the ground. “Hey, Doffy!” I shouted, getting his attention as I launched myself toward him with everything I had. "Stay focused!"

Before he could react, I landed a solid punch straight to his jaw, sending him crashing to the ground below. I landed, breathing heavily, my fists still crackling with energy. Doflamingo slowly rose, his breath labored as he wiped blood from the corner of his mouth, the fury in his eyes burning hotter than ever.

We were both exhausted, but I couldn’t let up now. Luffy was almost here.

“You’re mine now, Princess!” Doflamingo taunted, closing the distance between us with malicious intent. I braced myself for his attack, but just as his strings reached for me, I felt a sudden shift and everything around me blurred.

I was switched mid-air, landing on top of a nearby building instead of crashing into the ground. Before I could process what had happened, I felt something solid beneath me—someone, and then an arm wrapped tightly around my waist. A sense of familiarity washed over me instantly. 

Law had used his powers to switch me with Luffy, which meant Luffy was now ready to face Doflamingo. “Well, well, looks like you just can’t stay out of trouble,” Law teased from beneath me, his usual calm voice now mixed with relief.

I smirked, looking down at him as I realized where I was. “Oh, so you were watching me the whole time, huh?” I said playfully, crossing my arms in a mock display of defiance. His gaze flickered, and I noticed his attention suddenly shift toward my chest, a hint of color rising to his cheeks. 

“Caught you staring, huh?” I teased, uncrossing my arms and placing both hands on his chest to give him an even closer view.

Law’s expression shifted as he pulled me closer, his head nestling between my neck and shoulders. He pressed soft kisses along my skin, each one igniting sparks within me. “You should’ve been more careful,” he murmured between kisses, his voice a mixture of concern and desire.

“I’m fine,” I whispered, threading my fingers into the back of his hair and scratching lightly. He let out a soft groan, leaning into my touch as if trying to drown out the worries creeping in.

“Did you really think I’d just sit back and watch?” he said, his kisses trailing lower, punctuating his words with warmth. “You always dive headfirst into danger… why do you have to be so reckless?”

“What can I say? I enjoy a little chaos,” I replied with a teasing grin.

“Stop teasing,” he murmured, frustration mingling with longing as he pressed his lips against my neck again, his breath warm against my skin.

As he continued kissing his way up to my face, I winced slightly, the pain from Doflamingo’s punch flaring as a bruise began to form. Law paused, his expression shifting from longing to worry. “Y/N, are you hurt?” he asked, concern etched across his features, his lips hovering just inches from mine.

“It’s nothing I can’t handle,” I assured him, though the sting was a stark reminder of our reality. His eyes bore into mine, filled with fierce protectiveness that made my heart race.

“I don’t like seeing you in pain,” he murmured, pressing his forehead against mine, the warmth of his presence wrapping around me like a shield. Just as Law was leaning in, both Rebecca and Viola came rushing toward us.

"Princess!" they yelled in unison, breaking the moment. Law muttered under his breath, "Can't have you alone for five minutes, I swear!"

I tried to stand up, but my body gave way, and I landed back in Law's lap once more. "I’m glad you guys are okay!" I said, forcing a smile despite the lingering pain.

"Princess, I have to ask—how did you know what to do with Doflamingo? Even with my clairvoyance, I saw his demeanor shift," Viola questioned, her eyes wide with curiosity.

Law's grip around my waist tightened, his protective nature coming through even now. I took a breath, recalling the tension of the moment. "I knew he was obsessed with me before we got to Dressrosa. And I also knew that when he first captured me, he enjoyed the chase and the thrill of it all."

I looked between Viola and Rebecca, gauging their reactions. "Now, I’ll admit I’m also a woman who enjoys a little bit of thrill and danger, as you can tell with my reckless plans," I smirked playfully. "But I knew that getting him to lower his guard was the tricky part, so the seduction played a heavy hand in my strategy. I needed him to think that all the games he played with me made me crave him."

Viola nodded slowly, her expression a mix of admiration and concern. “You really used his own obsession against him, didn’t you?”

I nodded, my smile turning a bit more serious. “Exactly. Doflamingo thrives on control, but he’s also impulsive when it comes to his desires. If I could make him believe I was intrigued by him, even for a moment, I could manipulate his focus. I didn’t even use my blades for the fight after I shocked him either; my mission was to buy enough time. If it meant distracting him, baiting him with the idea that he had me, then so be it.”

Rebecca leaned in, intrigued. “That’s incredibly risky.”

“Risky is an understatement,” Law interjected, his tone sharp with worry. “You could have gotten yourself killed.”

I waved him off, a playful grin returning. “But it worked, didn’t it? He underestimated me, thinking I was just a pretty face. I knew I had to spark his interest and play to his ego. When I challenged him, that shift in his demeanor—his desire to dominate—became my weapon. Now, I didn’t think you two were both within Doflamingo's range, so that part I had to figure out a way for you to be left out of harm's way.”

Viola leaned back, a thoughtful expression crossing her face. “So, it was a mix of seduction and strategy. You made him believe he was in control, all while plotting your escape.”

“Exactly,” I confirmed. “And I knew that my skills and my defiance would just fuel the fire of his sick desires. He thrives on challenges, and I knew I could make him think I was playing his game while actually planning my next move. The more I made him believe I craved him, the more he would let his guard down. Sometimes, you have to dance with the devil to outsmart him." I shifted out of Law's lap and settled beside him, my breath still heavy from the fight with Doflamingo. I took off my tiara and set it down, leaning back against the wall. “Now all that’s left is for Luffy to kick his ass.”

Just then, the announcer’s voice boomed, “Our champion, our Lucy, is here at last!” I smiled, the sound of Luffy’s name filling me with hope.

But then, Doflamingo’s voice sliced through the moment. “So that’s where you ran off to, Princess!” he shouted, his gaze locking onto Law and me. “You get front row seats for what I’m about to do, and then we can get back to our fun from before.” His laughter sent a chill down my spine.

I tensed, using the wall for support as I stood up. “Luffy... will kick your ass!” I yelled, determination fueling my voice.

Suddenly, Doflamingo unleashed a barrage of strings that sent Luffy crashing into a stone. “Come on, Luffy!” I thought desperately. But then I saw him shift, his body pulsing with energy as he unleashed Fourth Gear once more. The Birdcage was closing in, and my heart raced. “This is it!” Rebecca shouted.

As Luffy and Doflamingo flew into the air, Luffy yelled, “Every time you grab whatever you want and strangle it! You can’t have everything, and you can’t control everyone!” My eyes widened, tears welling as I watched Luffy confront Doflamingo.

“Your twisted games end here!” Luffy shouted, his voice echoing through the arena. “You’ve hurt my friends! You’ve destroyed innocent lives! Just looking at you... makes it harder for me to breath!”

“Kong Gun!” he yelled, and the impact reverberated through us. I held my breath, my heart racing. “Lucy!” the announcer called, and I could feel the energy shift.

“Luffy!” I shouted, my voice carrying hope. “Fight, Lucy!”

The moment Luffy landed a direct hit, sending Doflamingo crashing down, I couldn’t hold back my laughter, tears flowing freely down my cheeks. “He did it!” I cried, dropping to my knees as the weight of the battle finally lifted. Buildings began to crumble around us, the force of Luffy’s attack shaking the ground.

I glanced to my right, seeing both Viola and Rebecca in tears, looking skyward, sharing in the moment of liberation.

“Luffy!” I shouted, scrambling to my feet as he shambled toward us. “You did it, Captain!” I smiled, tears still streaming down my face.

“Strawhat...” Viola murmured, and we exchanged a silent smile, a shared understanding of what this victory meant.

“Look to the sky, Dressrosa! Watch it fade... the Birdcage... and Doflamingo's reign over us!” the announcer proclaimed. “The Dressrosa Defensive War, 2000 wicked pirates versus the fateful warriors who gathered here far and wide... culminating with their leaders: Donquixote Doflamingo versus Lucy! The winner is...”

I turned to Rebecca, tears falling onto Luffy's face. “The winner is... Lucy!”

“It took the announcer long enough to say it…” I said, trying to lighten the mood, even as exhaustion washed over me.

Luffy rested, Rebecca cradling his head in her lap. I slowly pushed myself up, my legs wobbling as the adrenaline faded, replaced by sheer exhaustion. Each step felt heavier than the last. “I think... I think I’m going to—”

Before I could finish, I fell to my knees and then onto the ground.

“Princess!” Viola yelled, rushing to my side. I smiled weakly, surrendering to the exhaustion that enveloped me. It felt so good to let go.

Law POV… 

“Y/N!” I yelled, watching as Viola rushed to your side. My heart pounded in my chest; I’d known you would crash eventually. I took a moment to catch my breath, still reeling from the battle.

“Hey Luffy, Y/N! Where are you guys?” I heard Usopp’s voice, his panic cutting through the chaos.

“Hey Zoro! You’re all okay! You heard Luffy knocked the lights out of Doflamingo!” Usopp called out, his relief evident.

“I heard,” Zoro replied, a hint of annoyance in his voice. “And Y/N knocked out a top executive and fought with Doflamingo again. That reckless—”

“That was a super victory for us too!” Franky chimed in, grinning widely.

Viola turned to me, her expression serious. “It’s time we let Strawhat and the princess know they’re both safe, don’t you think?”

I nodded in agreement, a mix of pride and worry swirling within me. “Yeah, it’s time.”

Zoro POV…

“You guys!” a voice called from above.

“It’s Viola!” Usopp shouted, pointing upward. “We’re up here! Both Strawhat and the princess are up here!” she waved, motioning us to come.

Y/N... I thought. Relief washed over me at the sound of her name, the weight of worry lifting slightly. That meant she was okay. We hurried up the building, scaling the steps as fast as we could.

As we reached the top, I called out, “Luffy! Y/N!” But what I saw instead was both of you resting. Rebecca was sitting close, watching over you and Luffy with a protective look on her face.

I walked toward you both, my eyes immediately landing on Y/N. “Y/N...” I whispered softly as you stirred slightly, your eyes fluttering. My heart clenched at the sight of the bruise forming on your cheek, and the other visible wounds that littered your body.

“She fought hard... the princess,” Rebecca’s voice broke my thoughts, and I glanced at her.

“She saved both Viola and me, and even faced Doflamingo once more,” she added, her voice filled with admiration.

I couldn’t help but smirk a little, my chest swelling with pride as I looked down at you. I knelt beside you, carefully lifting you into my arms. “That’s my girl,” I whispered, feeling an overwhelming sense of pride as I held you close. You were reckless, stubborn, but you were strong—stronger than anyone I knew.

Usopp began placing Luffy on top of the bird, carefully settling him down. Luffy, even in his exhaustion, muttered something about needing meat, his usual post-battle cravings kicking in. Law was next, his energy drained, but he still managed to climb onto the bird without much help.

When it was time for Y/N, I turned to Usopp. “I’ll take her,” I said firmly. I gently lifted Y/N, positioning her behind me with her face resting against my back. Her legs wrapped loosely around my waist, and I could feel her soft, steady breathing as she leaned into me.

As Y/N’s weight pressed gently against my back, her arms resting limply around my shoulders, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of responsibility for her. I adjusted her again, making sure she was secure. Her breath was warm against my neck, reminding me of how close she had come to danger today.

Usopp gave another amused glance in my direction. “Seriously, man, if Sanji saw this, he’d be flipping out. Probably light five cigarettes at once.”

I snorted, shaking my head. “Yeah, well, he’s not here, so I don’t have to deal with his whining.”

I could feel Y/N’s grip tighten slightly, even though she was still half-conscious, her body leaning into mine for support. “Just rest,” I muttered quietly, feeling the weight of the fight and the exhaustion settling in for all of us.

“Let’s get out of here,” I said, glancing at Usopp, as I made sure Y/N wouldn’t slip, her cheek resting gently against my back.

Hours passed as we finally made it to a small cottage—Kyros’ house. Luffy lay bandaged in a bed, completely out of it, while Law was similarly patched up, occasionally flicking his eyes open. You were resting your head on my lap, your breathing steady but still showing signs of strain from the battle. Every once in a while, you shifted, your face scrunching slightly as though reliving the fight in your dreams.

Kyros handed out blankets, and I carefully draped one over you, ensuring it covered your exposed body. You nuzzled closer to me for warmth, the movement subtle, but enough for me to notice. My hand instinctively moved to your head, gently running my fingers through your hair in an attempt to soothe you.

"Roronoa!" Law’s voice came out in a harsh whisper, pulling my attention away from you. I turned to him, smirking slightly, still petting your head.

"What?" I muttered, keeping my tone low as I looked down at you, hoping you would settle back into a peaceful rest.

Law's eyes flickered with something other than exhaustion—jealousy. He glanced between us, his expression strained, trying to keep his usual calm, but there was a certain tightness to his jaw. "You’re really getting comfortable, huh?" he muttered, his voice barely hiding the edge of annoyance.

I raised an eyebrow, amused by his reaction. "She’s resting," I said, keeping my tone light, but there was no denying the satisfaction I felt. His jealousy was clear, and the corners of my mouth tugged into a smirk as I continued to stroke your hair.

Soon after, Law drifted off to sleep, along with Kyros and Usopp. The small cottage was quiet, save for the crackling of the fire and the sound of our comrades breathing softly in their slumber.

“Can’t say I blame him,” Robin remarked, her voice soft yet amused as she nodded toward Law.

“Money’s on him sleeping longer than anybody,” Franky added, adjusting his mechanical eye with a chuckle.

Just as the atmosphere began to settle, the door creaked open. I instinctively moved, carefully laying you down on the floor as I got ready to defend, my hand hovering near my swords.

"Catch!" A bottle of wine was thrown my way, and I snatched it out of the air just as a familiar figure stepped inside.

"Sabo!" Robin exclaimed, rising from her seat.

"You know him?" I asked, still holding the bottle, my eyes narrowing as I assessed him.

“That’s Luffy’s brother,” Robin explained.

“Luffy’s brother?” Franky and I both shouted in unison, causing you to stir, groaning softly from the sudden noise.

Sabo stepped forward, quietly closing the door behind him. He placed his hat down and made his way toward Luffy, sitting beside his sleeping brother. “He’s with the Revolutionary Army, isn’t he?” Franky asked, still fiddling with his eye.

Sabo nodded. “Correct. But I didn’t just come to see Luffy. I came to see her as well, before I leave,” he said, standing and walking toward you.

"How do you know her?" Robin asked, curiosity coloring her tone.

Sabo hesitated for a moment before answering. “Well, it’s kind of a long story, but to sum it up, I was with her on the island where she trained under the alias ‘Sam.’” He knelt down beside you, gently lifting you into his arms. As if on instinct, your hands reached for his shirt, gripping it softly. Sabo chuckled, stroking your hair. “Looks like she still remembers when I used to do this.”

A faint smile appeared on your lips, the tension in your features easing as Sabo continued to hold you.

“So you’re the guy she told us about,” I said, taking a swig of the wine, watching the scene unfold.

“She only knew me as Sam. She never knew me as Sabo,” he explained, his gaze never leaving you. “When I saw her here in Dressrosa, I couldn’t believe my eyes. I’ve wanted to tell her the truth for a long time… and when I finally did, she forgave me.”

He gently traced the anklet around your ankle, the one you always wore, even in battle. “That anklet she wears... that was my farewell gift to her.”

“So, you’re the one who taught her that monstrous kick ability?” Franky chimed in, his voice half-impressed, half-joking.

Sabo smiled again. “Yeah... that was me,” he admitted, though his smile seemed tinged with something deeper, something bittersweet. He looked down at you once more, his hold on you tightening slightly, as if letting go would cause more pain than he could bear.

“Did you know she loves to be held like this?” Sabo said quietly, his voice softer now, as though he were talking to himself as much as to us. “I learned that back on the island after a few months. She used to have recurring nightmares... nightmares of Sabaody.”

He paused, swallowing the emotion building in his throat before continuing. “She’d come looking for me in King’s palace. When she found me, whether I was in the office or my room, she’d always ask if she could stay with me. I didn’t mind… It made her feel safe.”

A tear slipped from Sabo’s eye, falling and landing gently on your face as he smiled wistfully. "Did you guys know she’d train from sunrise until midnight? Relentless. King’s men didn’t hold back at all, and neither did King. But over time, he started to go a little easier on her. He couldn’t help but soften up to her." He chuckled, shaking his head as more memories flooded back.

I took a swig from the bottle in my hand, curiosity getting the better of me. “Why didn’t you say goodbye that day?”

Sabo’s face grew serious. “I couldn’t. I had to finish the mission I was on. I stayed for two years to be with her, but I knew if I said goodbye, I wouldn’t have been able to leave. I had to play the role, stay undercover, and make sure she didn’t know who I really was. I was just the nurse to her then.”

With that, Sabo gently laid you back down and pulled a familiar bottle from his coat pocket—the ointment you’d often use on the ship. As he began to carefully unwrap your bandages, revealing the bruises and injuries that covered your torso and arm, he worked with precision, applying the ointment as though it were second nature.

“She got hurt pretty badly once,” Sabo said, his voice soft. “She refused to let anyone help her, so I snuck in while she was asleep and patched her up. The next morning, she was up and moving again, completely clueless that I’d been there.”

Robin watched him closely, smiling. “It sounds like you share a lot of memories with Y/N.”

Sabo’s gaze lingered on you, his voice softening even further. “More than I could count, Robin.” He laughed quietly. “But if she remembers this, she’ll probably punch me for being ‘too soft’ again.”

I smirked, leaning back and taking another swig. “Looks like you’ve got your hands full.”

Sabo chuckled, looking down at you. “Yeah… but I wouldn’t have it any other way. She's stubborn, reckless, and drives me crazy—but that’s what makes her... her.”

Once Sabo finished rebandaging you, he gently placed you back on his chest, your breathing more even now, the faint smile returning to your face. His fingers lightly stroked your hair, and he seemed reluctant to move.

Robin’s voice cut through the silence, gentle but curious. “Do you really have to go so soon, before Luffy and Y/N wake up?”

Sabo nodded, his expression serious. “Yeah, I do. There’s some trouble heading toward Dressrosa as we speak.”

Franky raised an eyebrow. “Who’s causing trouble now?”

“CP0,” Sabo said, and Robin tensed immediately, her sharp eyes narrowing.

I took another swig from the bottle, listening closely. “I remember the mix-up with Doflamingo,” I muttered. “They played a key role in that, didn’t they?”

Sabo nodded grimly. “Exactly. They’re not here for sightseeing. CP0 is coming for us, and things are going to get crazy in a day or two.”

I grunted, leaning back. “Well, we weren’t planning on sticking around much longer, anyway.”

Franky crossed his arms, eyeing Sabo. “I’m still wrapping my head around the fact that you’re Luffy’s brother, and on top of that, you know Y/N too?”

Sabo smiled, but it was tinged with sadness. “Yeah... It’s a long story, but Luffy, Ace, and I were inseparable as kids. We made a vow over a cup of sake to be brothers, and we spent our childhood dreaming of setting out to sea together.”

He paused, his voice quieter now. “Everyone thought I died, though. When my ship got hit by a Celestial Dragon, I was lucky enough to survive, but I didn’t remember anything for years. By the time I regained my memories, I found out Ace was gone...” His grip around you tightened a little, and you furrowed your brows in response, still fast asleep.

The room fell silent as we all absorbed his words. The weight of his memories, and his loss, was palpable. Sabo took a deep breath, looking down at you with a soft expression. “But at least I found Luffy again…and Y/N.” This reckless woman,” he chuckled, “she kind of reminds me of myself in some ways. Always going headfirst, without thinking things through.” He placed a gentle kiss on her forehead, radiating warmth and care.

"She's a heavy sleeper," Franky remarked, causing a few chuckles to ripple through the group.

“Lady Y/N must have been utterly exhausted after what she did,” Kinemon added earnestly. “From being taken by Doflamingo to having him obsess over her every move, getting people to follow her and chase her—all while also getting extremely injured—it must have been a lot for her.”

I nodded, watching her peaceful face resting against Sabo’s chest. “Yeah, she really went all out,” I said, crossing my arms. “She fought hard and still managed to get back up after facing Doflamingo again. That takes guts.”

"On top of that, she even beat one of Doflamingo's top executives with the blades King gave her," I added, recalling the brilliant flashes of red lightning and blue hue that erupted from the palace during the fight. "That was insane! It was like she harnessed the power of the sky itself.”

Sabo's eyes widened in shock at my words, his expression shifting to one of deep contemplation. “You saw the blue hue and red lightning?” he asked, his voice slightly strained. “King mentioned that once those two were harnessed, the remaining colors would show up soon. Each energy she channels, whether she’s holding the blades or not, enhances her ability, making her more of a threat than ever.”

“Really?” Franky said, his curiosity piqued. “That sounds incredible!”

Sabo nodded, his gaze turning distant. “I remember when he was going to give her those blades; those were the same blades used in her training. She’d get so mad because she didn’t understand or didn’t get the moves right. But look at her now. She’s grown so much.”

“Yeah, she’s fearless,” I added, glancing back at the others. “But it’s that same fearlessness that gets her in trouble sometimes.”

Sabo looked down at Y/N, a mix of pride and concern clouding his features. “I just wish she wouldn’t push herself so hard.

“I truly don’t want to say goodbye just yet, especially as it would only add to Y/N’s frustration at me since I did it once,” Sabo said, his voice laced with reluctance as he gently placed her back on the floor. Y/N stirred slightly at the movement, but her eyelids remained heavy.

“Robin, I’m leaving these things to you,” he continued, removing his coat and handing her two Vivre Cards—one for Luffy and the other for Y/N—along with a letter written specifically for her. “You sure about this, Sabo?” Robin asked, a hint of concern creeping into her voice.

“Yeah, I have to,” he replied, his expression somber. 

As he spoke, I stood up, feeling an urge to stop him. “As much as I hate it, I have to leave,” he said, making his way toward the door. He paused, glancing back at us, the weight of his decision evident in his eyes. With a heavy heart, he closed the door softly behind him.

Suddenly, a groan escaped Y/N as she sat up, rubbing her eyes to adjust to her surroundings. Her gaze wandered until it landed on Sabo’s coat, and then her eyes shot to the door, realization dawning on her. She quickly threw off her blanket and bolted toward the door, panic etched on her face.

“Y/N, wait!” I shouted, but it was too late; she had already shut the door, her determination overriding my warning.

I shared a glance with the others, worry etched across our faces. “What’s she thinking?” Franky muttered, but I could already guess the answer. She wasn’t going to let Sabo slip away without a fight.

 Y/N POV: 

“So you think you can just walk out without saying goodbye?” I called out, frustration bubbling to the surface as I watched Sabo from behind. My heart raced, the tension palpable in the air between us.

“It’s not what it looks like,” he replied with a sigh, turning to face me. His expression was a mix of regret and determination, but all I felt was anger simmering beneath the surface.

“Oh really?! Because it’s exactly what it looks like, Sabo!” I shot back, my arms crossed defensively. The glow from my blades intensified, casting a green hue around me, a reflection of the power and emotions swirling within.

Sabo’s eyes widened slightly at the sight of my blades lighting up. “Y/N, I—” 

“Why do you keep doing this?” I whispered, a tear slipping down my cheek, leaving a warm trail in its wake. “You did it back when I was leaving and didn’t say goodbye, and now you’re doing it again!” My body shook with the intensity of my emotions, frustration and hurt colliding within me.

Sabo stepped closer, his hand reaching out to caress my cheek, gently wiping away the tear that had fallen. “I don’t like saying goodbye, that’s why,” he whispered, his voice barely audible, filled with an aching sincerity. “To me, goodbyes mean I will never get to see you again.”

As he spoke, tears began to well in his eyes, mirroring my own pain. The vulnerability in his expression tugged at my heartstrings, and I felt the weight of his words settle between us.

“Then don’t say goodbye,” I urged, my voice trembling as I fought against the emotions threatening to overwhelm me. 

As Sabo leaned in, our lips met in a tender kiss, and I felt the warmth of his emotions flooding through me. I kissed him back, pouring every ounce of my feelings into that moment. When we finally pulled away, our foreheads resting against each other, he looked deep into my eyes, a mix of determination and sorrow on his face.

“I have to go,” he said, his voice thick with unspoken emotions. “But I promise, once we’ve accomplished what we hope for, we will reunite someday. I won’t let this be the end for us.”

I nodded, my heart aching at the thought of him leaving but feeling a flicker of hope at his words. “Promise me you’ll stay safe,” I urged, my voice trembling slightly. “And don’t forget about me.”

He smiled softly, the corners of his eyes crinkling in that way I had grown to love. “I could never forget you, Y/N. You’re too important to me.”

I reached into my pocket and pulled out a small piece of paper, scribbling my number on it. “Here,” I said, handing it to him. “Call me when you can. No matter what happens, I want to hear from you.”

Sabo took the paper, his expression warm and sincere. “I will. I promise.” 

As Sabo turned to leave, he paused, a playful glint returning to his eyes. “Wait,” he said, stepping back towards me. “I almost forgot something.”

Before I could process what was happening, he leaned in and captured my lips again in a soft kiss. My heart raced at the sudden affection, and I melted into it, savoring the warmth of his presence.

When he pulled away, he smirked slightly, a hint of mischief in his expression. “And this one’s for the good luck kiss I wanted back in Dressrosa.”

He leaned in again, pressing his lips to mine with a deeper intensity. I kissed him back, pouring all my unspoken feelings into that moment, feeling as if we were suspended in time.

When we finally broke apart, both of us breathless, I could see the mix of emotions on his face—hope, determination, and a hint of sorrow. “Now I really have to go,” he said, his voice softening. “But remember, we’ll reunite one day.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” I replied, my heart swelling with warmth despite the ache of his impending departure. 

 slowly made my way inside, where Robin’s eyes were on me, concern etched across her face as she noticed the turmoil within me.

Once inside, I slid down the door and buried my face in my hands, the weight of the moment crashing down. As tears began to flow, I felt a gentle presence beside me. Robin knelt down and wrapped her arms around me, pulling me close.

“It’s okay, Y/N,” she whispered softly, her voice soothing like a gentle tide. “Let it all out.”

I let every emotion pour into her shoulder, the frustration, the longing, the hope—everything I had bottled up since Sabo’s unexpected arrival. Robin held me tightly, her presence a steady anchor in the storm of my feelings.

“He cares about you, you know,” she said, her words a balm to my aching heart. 

I nodded, taking comfort in her words, though the ache of separation still lingered. I finally understood why Sabo hadn’t said goodbye before; it hurt too much. Saying goodbye meant accepting that I might not see him again, and the thought was unbearable.

With a heavy heart, I whispered, “It hurts to say goodbye, Robin.”

“It always does,” she replied gently.

[critrolestats]

Media References and Puns of 3-078 Fractures

Thanks to @amelieofgreengables for this art piece!

Media References

(0:07:52) Laura: Circle of Tide & Pod. (Tide Pods)

(0:14:09) Sam: singing Makin’ your acquaintance. (“A Thousand Miles” by Vanessa Carlton)

(0:32:41) Travis: But the vascularity looks like veins of magma? […] Ashley: Liquid hot.  Travis: Magma. (Austin Powers)

(1:00:10) Marisha: Mel Brooks film.

(1:33:15) Travis: singing We’re not gonna take it.  Travis, Ashley, and Marisha: singing No, we ain’t gonna take it. (by Twisted Sister)

(1:37:54) Laura: sings “The Girl From Ipanema”

(1:37:55) Marisha: It’s the last episode of “Last Podcast on the Left.”

Read more at critrolestats.com

[crippleprophet]

Hey Mac! Do you have any crip books or resource recs for crip sex/sexuality?

Feel free to delete if you're uncomfortable answering :]

do i ever! i actually did an essay for my master’s in disability studies on the topic of disabled people’s access to sex so a lot of these are sources from that (feel free to dm me for my paper!) & others are things i’ve collected for leisure (hah)

i’m bolding my favorites and italicizing ones i haven’t read but have been recommended / have on my list; as with everything, having read a piece + recommending it is not an uncritical endorsement, & i have various contentions with all of these pieces ranging from minor nitpicking to outright disagreement.

feel free to send an ask or dm if you want my thoughts on a particular work or need help obtaining a pdf!

books

Sex and Disability ed. Robert McRuer & Anna Mollow

The Sexual Politics of Disability: Untold Desires by Tom Shakespeare, Kath Gillespie-Sells and Dominic Davies

Unbreaking Our Hearts: Cultures of Un/Desirability and the Transformative Potential of Queercrip Porn by Loree Erickson. York University, dissertation submitted 2015.

McRuer, R. 2006. Crip theory: Cultural signs of queerness and disability. New York: New York University Press.

Kinked and Crippled: Disabled BDSM Practitioners’ Experiences and Embodiments of Pain. Emma Sheppard. Edge Hill University, dissertation submitted 2017.

Love, Sex, and Disability: The Pleasures of Care by Sarah Smith Rainey

intellectually disabled people / people with learning difficulties’ right to sex

Hamilton, C. A. 2009. ‘Now I’d like to sleep with Rachael’ – researching sexuality support in a service agency group home. Disability & Society. 24(3), pp.303-315.

Hollomotz, A. 2008. ‘May we please have sex tonight?’ – people with learning difficulties pursuing privacy in residential group settings. British Journal of Learning Disabilities. 37, pp.91–97.

Vehmas, S. 2019. Persons with profound intellectual disability and their right to sex. Disability & Society. 34(4), pp.519-539.

Significance of the attitudes of police and care staff toward sex and people who have a learning disability by A. Bailey & D. Sines. Journal of Learning Disabilities for Nursing Health and Social Care (1998), 2(3), pp.168-174.

sexual facilitation & making sex accessible

Bahner, J. 2016. Risky business? Organizing sexual facilitation in Swedish personal assistance services. Scandinavian Journal of Disability Research. 18(2), pp.164-175.

Linda R. Mona (2003) Sexual Options for People with Disabilities, Women & Therapy, 26:3-4, pp.211-221.

No Pity Fucks Please: A critique of Scarlet Road’s campaign to improve disabled people’s access to paid sex services by Tova Rozengarten and Heather Brook. Outskirts vol. 34, 2016, pp.1-21.

Julia Bahner (2013) The power of discretion and the discretion of power: personal assistants and sexual facilitation in disability services, Vulnerable Groups & Inclusion, 4:1, 20673.

BDSM, paraphilias, & alternative sex

Goldberg, C. E. 2018. Fucking with Notions of Disability (In)Justice: Exploring BDSM, Sexuality, Consent, and Canadian Law

Hollomotz, A. 2013. Exploiting the Fifty Shades of Grey craze for the disability and sexual rights agenda. Disability & Society. 28(3), pp.418-422.

Reynolds, D. 2007. Disability and BDSM: Bob Flanagan and the case for sexual rights. Sexuality Research & Social Policy. 4(1), pp.40-52.

Tellier, S. 2017. Advancing the discourse: Disability and BDSM. Sex & Disability. 35, pp.485-493.

Sheppard, E. 2018. Using pain, living with pain. Feminist Review. 120, pp.54-69.

Tyburczy, J. 2014. Leather anatomy: Cripping homonormativity at International Mr. Leather. Journal of Literary & Cultural Disability Studies. 8(3), pp.275-293.

Sheppard, E 2019, 'Chronic Pain as Fluid, BDSM as Control' Disability Studies Quarterly, vol. 39, no. 2.

other articles

Finger, A. 1992. Forbidden Fruit

Fritsch, K., Heynen, R., Ross, A. N., and van der Meulen, E. 2016. Disability and sex work: developing affinities through decriminalization. Disability & Society. 31(1), pp.84-99.

McKenzie, J. 2012. Disabled people in rural South Africa talk about sexuality. Culture Health & Sexuality. pp.1-15.

Shakespeare, T. 2000. Disabled sexuality: Toward rights and recognition. Sexuality and Disability. 18(3), pp.159-166.

Shildrick, M. 2007. Contested pleasures: The sociopolitical economy of disability and sexuality. Sexuality Research & Social Policy. 4(1), pp.53-66.

Wentzell, E. 2006. Bad bedfellows: Disability sex rights and Viagra. Bulletin of Science, Technology & Society. 26(5), pp.370-377.

“‘Like, pissing yourself is not a particularly attractive quality, let’s be honest’: Learning to contain through youth, adulthood, disability and sexuality” by Kirsty Liddiard and Jenny Slater. Sexualities 2018, Vol. 21(3), pp.319–333.

non-academic texts

Andrew Gurza’s blog - andrewgurza dot com / blog

Disability After Dark podcast

A Quick & Easy Guide to Sex & Disability by A. Andrews

Cripping Up Sex with Eva

my cripsex tag, which i’ll add to this post, has other relevant content, & i welcome any additions from folks! all the best to you 💓

[mariacallous]

Presidential debates have impact when they address questions and concerns about the candidates that are top of mind for voters. As the crucial presidential debate began, in a race that was statistically dead even, both candidates had work to do.

Kamala Harris faced three key challenges. First, 37% to 42% of voters in some swing states knew virtually nothing about her except that she serves as Joe Biden’s vice president. Filling in this gap, or at least beginning to, was job one. From the very first minutes of the debate, it was clear that she knew she had to define herself and that she did—as a child of the middle class who, in contrast to Trump, was not given $400 million to start a business. In addition, she repeatedly came back to her experience as a prosecutor.

Second, Harris has shifted her position on many important issues—health care (Medicare for All), climate change (fracking), and immigration (decriminalizing border crossings), among others—since she ran for the nomination in 2020. This left people wondering, what kind of Democrat is she—a classic California progressive or the next generation of the Clinton, Obama, and Biden-style center-left? She had to persuade voters that the new version of Kamala Harris is the one they will get if she is elected.

Here her performance was more mixed. She explained her shift on fracking but didn’t give as clean and crisp an answer as she could have on other issues where Trump has accused her of flip-flopping. However, she defended the Biden administration and her participation in the bipartisan immigration legislation that Trump killed, she let the audience know that both she and Tim Walz are gun owners who have no intention of taking away people’s guns, and she pushed back against the charge that she was weak on crime by emphasizing her experience and record as a prosecutor who put criminals behind bars.    

Third, as is the case with every candidate who hasn’t previously occupied the presidency, Harris had to convince swing voters that she has what it takes to serve effectively as the nation’s chief executive and commander-in-chief. Simply put, they needed to be able to see her as big enough to be president, a barrier that some previous candidates, such as Michael Dukakis in 1988, failed to cross.

Harris passed this test easily. She never got flustered, she made her points concisely and quickly, and she spoke with confidence about traditionally “male” issues like war, defense, crime, and foreign policy.

What did Trump have to do in this debate? Two things.

First of all, he had to come across as someone who is not mean and angry, obsessed with the past and prone to conspiracy theorizing. His campaign aides have urged him to fight Kamala on the issues. Yet, on the stump, Trump can’t seem to stick to the script. He reads the policy portions of his speeches with an obvious lack of enthusiasm and returns often to complaining about alleged ballot fraud in 2020, insulting Harris, and unearthing conspiracy theories that make little sense.

Trump began the debate with the advice from his advisors ringing in his head. His first answer on the economy took aim at the Biden record, one of the issues on which he has held a consistent lead throughout the campaign. But as time went on, his debate performance took the same course as the Trump rallies. He turned nearly every question into an answer about the threats from illegal immigration. Like the economy, this has been a good issue for him, but he did begin to sound like a Johnny One Note on the topic, and it is not clear that this issue is as powerful in swing states like Pennsylvania as it is in border or more Republican states.

Also, as the debate wore on, Trump simply could not stay away from weird stuff. He insisted that Democrats favored killing babies after they were born and allowing abortion in the ninth month. And he repeated a story about immigrants in Springfield, Ohio killing and eating people’s cats and dogs. One of the moderators, David Muir, had to step in to point out that reporters had called Springfield city officials who had investigated the story and found it simply wasn’t true.

The second thing Trump needed to do was differentiate himself from the most extreme stances of his party—many of which are described by his former aides in Project 2025. As he has done in the past, he distanced himself from this document during the debate, claiming “I have nothing to do with Project 2025. I haven’t even read it.” 

Although there are many questionable policies being considered by Trump and the right wing of the Republican Party, such as slapping huge tariffs on U.S. imports and deporting millions of immigrants—by far the most dangerous one for him politically is abortion. On that issue, his answer was, as it has always been, that everything is okay because now the states are deciding it. Not surprisingly, Harris’ attack on abortion was exceptionally strong. She pointed out the many states that have passed highly restrictive abortion policies and, in some cases, have criminalized the behavior of doctors who are providing reproductive services. Abortion rights is the single most helpful issue for the Democrats in 2024.

Republican strategists keep hoping the abortion issue can be buried, but recent steps by Trump allies in Florida and Texas have kept it alive. In the debate, Trump tried to distance himself from the extremes, arguing that he would approve of abortions for rape and incest and even going so far as to say the Florida six-week ban is too short. Nonetheless, the coalition he leads isn’t happy with his nods to moderation, and it is likely many Americans will continue to believe that he would sign a national abortion ban if a Republican Congress sent it to his desk.

In conclusion, there are three kinds of presidential debates. The first is when one candidate lands a knockout blow against the other, as Ronald Reagan did with Jimmy Carter in 1980. The second is when the debate does little if anything to change the flow of the race; the Clinton/Dole debates in 1996 are a good example. The third, intermediate outcome occurs when a debate yields an advantage to one candidate without ending the other’s chance to win, as happened when Mitt Romney bested President Obama in their first debate in 2012.

The first (and perhaps only) debate between Donald Trump and Kamala Harris falls into this last category. After a month-long Harris surge that erased the advantage Trump had developed over President Biden, the race had stabilized during the past two weeks. This debate seems likely to put new wind in Harris’ sails. Whether it will be enough to propel her to victory in the Electoral College remains to be seen. But her campaign and supporters leave the debate with renewed energy and hope. By contrast, the Trump campaign must reckon with the likelihood that their candidate’s performance pleased his base without rallying many new supporters to his side.

Throughout the race, Trump has enjoyed a solid lead on the question of strong leadership. While he may still hold an advantage, most Americans who watched the debate probably saw in Kamala Harris an adversary who held her ground, went on the attack whenever possible, and refused to be intimidated. This matters.

On the face of it, the Trump campaign has an incentive to seek a rematch. If it does, the Harris campaign will probably insist on rules more to its liking. If not, this debate will stand as the last high-profile event before the November 5 election and as the race devolves into trench warfare—a battle of communications and organization in the states that will decide the outcome.

Finally—in the minutes after the debate closed—the galactically famous singer Taylor Swift announced she would be voting for Kamala Harris. In today’s world, this may be worth as much or even more than Harris’ solid debate performance.

[cyarsk5230]

1. Sonya Massey - "I rebuke you in the name of Jesus." 2. George Floyd - "I can't breathe." 3. Eric Garner - "I can't breathe." 4. Michael Brown - "I don't have a gun. Stop shooting." 5. Philando Castile - "I wasn't reaching for it." 6. Breonna Taylor - "Why did you shoot me?" 7. Freddie Gray - "I need a doctor." 8. Tamir Rice - "It's not real." 9. Oscar Grant - "You shot me! I got a four-year-old daughter!" 10. Laquan McDonald - No audible last words; shot while walking away. 11. Elijah McClain - "I can't breathe. I can't breathe. I can't breathe. I'm just different. I'm just different, that's all. I'm so sorry. I have no gun. I don't do that stuff. I don't do any fighting. Why are you attacking me?" 12. Alton Sterling - "What did I do?" 13. Walter Scott - "I’m just going home." 14. Botham Jean - "Why did you shoot me?" 15. Stephon Clark - "Grandma, call the police." 16. Atatiana Jefferson - "I’m here." 17. Sandra Bland - "Why am I being apprehended?" 18. Tony McDade - "I'm not armed." 19. Daniel Prude - "Give me your gun, I need it." 20. John Crawford III - "It's not real." 21. Manuel Ellis - "I can't breathe, sir." 22. Amadou Diallo - "Mom, I'm going to college." 23. Aiyana Stanley-Jones - No audible last words; shot while sleeping. 24. Terrence Crutcher - "I'm not doing anything." 25. Sean Bell - No audible last words; shot multiple times. 26. Jonathan Ferrell - No audible last words; shot while seeking help after a car crash. 27. Ezell Ford - "It's me, it’s me." 28. John Crawford III - "It's not real." 29. Renisha McBride - No audible last words; shot while seeking help after a car accident. 30. Kenneth Chamberlain Sr. - "Why are you doing this to me?" 31. Tamir Rice - "It's not real." 32. Eric Harris - "I'm losing my breath." 33. Jamar Clark - "Please don’t let me die." 34. Rayshard Brooks - "I don't want to hurt you." 35. Alfred Olango - "Please don’t shoot." 36. Shantel Davis - "What did I do?" 37. Kendra James - "Please don’t kill me." 38. Akai Gurley - No audible last words; shot in a dark stairwell. 39. Miriam Carey - No audible last words; shot in her car. 40. Timothy Russell - No audible last words; shot during a car chase. 41. Malissa Williams - No audible last words; shot during a car chase. 42. Jordan Edwards - No audible last words; shot while leaving a party. 43. Yvette Smith - "I'm coming out." 44. Jordan Davis - No audible last words; shot at a gas station. 45. Victor White III - No audible last words; died in police custody. 46. Dontre Hamilton - No audible last words; shot in a park. 47. Eric Reason - No audible last words; shot during a dispute. 48. Emantic "EJ" Bradford Jr. - No audible last words; shot in a mall. 49. Oscar Grant - "You shot me! I got a four-year-old daughter!" 50. Clinton Allen - No audible last words; shot during an encounter. 51. Ronnell Foster - No audible last words; shot during a foot chase. 52. Tony Robinson - No audible last words; shot during an altercation. 53. Charly Keunang - No audible last words; shot during an altercation. 54. Samuel DuBose - "I didn’t even do nothing." 55. Quintonio LeGrier - "I’m sorry." 56. Bettie Jones - "I've been shot." 57. India Kager - No audible last words; shot in a car. 58. Keith Lamont Scott - "Don't shoot him. He has no weapon." 59. Jordan Baker - No audible last words; shot during a confrontation. 60. Christian Taylor - No audible last words; shot during a confrontation. 61. Michael Dean - No audible last words; shot during a traffic stop. 62. Rumain Brisbon - No audible last words; shot during an altercation. 63. Gregory Gunn - No audible last words; shot during an encounter. 64. Yuvette Henderson - No audible last words; shot during a confrontation. 65. David Joseph - No audible last words; shot during a confrontation. 66. Calvin Reid - No audible last words; died in police custody. 67. Antonio Zambrano-Montes - No audible last words; shot during an encounter. 68. Zachary Hammond - "Why did you shoot me?"

69. Anthony Hill - No audible last words; shot while naked and unarmed.

70. Saheed Vassell - No audible last words; shot while holding a metal pipe.

71. Willie McCoy - No audible last words; shot while sleeping in a car.

72. Robert White - No audible last words; shot during an altercation.

73. Micheal Lorenzo Dean - No audible last words; shot during a traffic stop.

74. Monique Tillman - "I didn’t do anything wrong."

75. Randy Evans - No audible last words; died in police custody.

76. Vernell Bing Jr. - No audible last words; shot during a car chase.

77. Cameron Massey - No audible last words; shot during an altercation.

78. DeAndre Ballard - No audible last words; shot during a confrontation.

79. Maurice Gordon - "Can you let me out?"

80. Rayshard Brooks - "I don’t want to hurt you."

81. Pierre Loury - No audible last words; shot during a foot chase.

82. Deborah Danner - "I’m not feeling well."

83. Jason Harrison - "I’m sick."

84. Corey Jones - "Hold on, wait!"

85. Keith Childress - "Don't shoot."

86. Justine Damond - No audible last words; shot after calling 911.

87. Amilcar Perez-Lopez - No audible last words; shot during an altercation.

88. Mario Woods - "I'm not going to shoot you."

89. William Chapman II - "Don’t shoot me."

90. Chad Robertson - No audible last words; shot while running away.

91. Charlie Willie Kunzelman - No audible last words; shot during a confrontation.

92. Terrence Sterling - No audible last words; shot during a traffic stop.

93. Sylville Smith - "Why are you harassing me?"

94. Bruce Kelley Jr. - No audible last words; shot during an altercation.

95. Korryn Gaines - No audible last words; shot during a standoff.

96. Maurice Granton Jr. - No audible last words; shot during a foot chase.

97. Paul O'Neal - No audible last words; shot during a car chase.

98. Antwon Rose II - "Why are they shooting?"

99. Patrick Harmon - "I’ll go with you."

100. Aaron Bailey - "Why did you shoot me?"

101. Miles Hall - "No! Don't do it!"

[dalekofchaos]

Dutch made a pact with The Strange Man

Found this on reddit and thought it makes a lot of sense. Also this one.

Dutch's pact with the Strange Man theory.

We don't know in details what really happened before the game but some tips we can find in Arthur's Journal and hearing the other members made me think about this.

The gang was an ordinary gang from the beginning (1870s) until 1877 when something happened: Dutch and Hosea were arrested and by unknown means they escaped their cell. So my guess is that Dutch made a pact with The Strange Man to set them free and to be happy.

After that the gang became a family, with Arthur, John, Mrs Grimshaw and etc. And until the game starts they rob 37 banks. So the gang went from zero to hero in 10 years. Dutch was happy living his "dream".

Then the fire happened (the one Arthur mentions in the beginning his journal) burning everything they have thus forcing them to flee. In my opinion this is the time the Strange man came to collect the debts and Dutch probably do not want to pay. So they started to flee and even after a while Dutch still want them to move. They were going to California and all of a sudden Dutch decided to go to Blackwater. Even after finding some land to buy he still wanted to move.

"Dutch had a lead for some land we were going to buy […] or he got spooked we were being watched by the law and that somebody knew who he was."

Then after a while on Blackwater camp Arthur says that he heard about someone who looks like Trewlany, i remember reading about how similar both look like. Coincidentally after that Dutch started to talk about moving again. The ferry heist was fucked up because of the Strange Man, and it is the beginning of the end. Pretty much like what happened to Herbert Moon. His daughter married, was happy, but he was sad. Dutch got what he asked: fame, fortune, but he lost everything else on the way: family, love, even his mind…

I think he's the one who caused the ferry robbery to to go fucked up, and that the Heidi McCourt incident was him testing Dutch, similar to the way he tests John with moral choices in RDR1, or the way he tests Arthur with Jimmy Brooks in Valentine. When John first meets him in RDR1, he begins by reminding John of Heidi McCourt's murder. Eventually, the Strange Man does collect his debt…in the form of John Marston at the end of RDR1. The theory even goes further to some on Reddit, saying that Ross also made a choice that damned him to the Strange Man when he decided to go after and kill John, and Ross's debt was collected when Jack Marston kills him.

Other theories are that the ship Dutch, Arthur, Bill, Micah and Javier try to escape on catching fire and sinking was also the Strange Man preventing Dutch's escape. There's also a camp encounter in Chapter IV, after the ill-fated trolley station stick up, where Dutch and John have words that ends with Dutch telling John, "I. Know. You." which is the name of the Strange Man's side quest in RDR1.

Heidi McCourt was Dutch's test from The Strange Man theory.

Both John Marston and Arthur Morgan encounter two seemingly different people at entirely separate times and places, however they are somehow connected.

In RDR1, John encounters a strange man that asks him about Heidi McCourt, a woman Dutch shot in the head 12 years prior, during the Blackwater Ferry Heist. The Strange Man makes a point to let John know that Heidi McCourt was an important person, before sending John out to deal with a man who is soon to commit adultery. John has the choice to complete this mission honorably or dishonorably, and the Strange Man appears to be keeping track of his choices. In the final meeting with the Strange Man, the Strange Man claims he is "accounting". Its widely accepted that the Strange Man is some sort of supernatural force, being connected to fate and the dead. Which brings me to my second point, Jimmy Brooks.

Jimmy Brooks is a man Arthur Meets in Valentine in RDR2, who recognizes Arthur from the Blackwater Heist. After some chasing, Arthur is faced with saving Jimmy brooks or letting him die. Later in the Strange Man's cabin, a poem regarding Jimmy Brooks, who before seemed to have no connection, appears etched in a desk.

It is of my opinion that at some point in everyone's life, at least in the Red Dead universe, they will come across a figure that judges their morals and perhaps decides their fate, same as John in RDR1. My theory is that Heidi McCourt was this figure in the life of Dutch Van Der Linde, and the execution of her cemented his path into destruction he would experience over the next 15 or so years.

[angelasscribbles]

Savage Love Chapter 37: Gone

Series: Savage Love

Fandom: The Royal Romance

Pairings: Riley x Liam, Riley x Drake

Rating: R         

Warnings: Mature themes, violence, guns

Word Count: 987

A/N: Wow, I can't believe it's been five months since I posted an update for this! I've known since before I started writing it back in December 2021 how it's going to end. This is the downside of having so many ideas.... I can't work on all of them at once.

That said, this is a bit shorter than my regular chapters, but I just needed to see what Drake was doing while Riley was in Hidar in her quest to take down the Via Imperii and Leo was in Rivala getting the shock of his life. The next chapter will bring everyone back together again in Cordonia.

A/N2: I realize it's been a while and readers may be confused with all the OC's in this chapter, so here's a rundown. Nick is Riley's ex-fiance and also another GIA agent. Frederico Sanchez is Nick's informant. Saguaro Laurent is the head of The Gladius Company. Lorenzo is not in this chapter but is mentioned as a loan shark to whom Tariq owed money and who, on Saguaro's orders, leveraged Tariq's gambling debt to get him to abduct Riley (Tariq failed and was murdered for his failure, Lorenzo is in custody at the palace). Rico Mendez is the son of a former mafia don who wants revenge for Riley using him to take down his father's organization.

My other stuff: Master List.

Series Premise: Agent Riley Brooks is undercover on assignment in New York when she has a one-night stand with a handsome, mysterious stranger. Both of them hiding their true identities, names are not exchanged.  After one scorching night, they part ways, both returning to the duties they have pledged their lives to. Fast forward several months later and Agent Brooks is assigned a new case: investigate and infiltrate any Via Imperi influences in the small, Mediterranean country of Cordonia. Her cover? Posing as a suitor competing for the hand of the crown prince. Her way in? Civilian contractor and cyber security expert Maxwell Beaumont.

Drake…..

Nick and I arrived at the warehouse where we were meeting his contact in the Liberation Core. The one that had gotten me a meeting with the head of the Gladius Company.

The air in the dimly lit warehouse was thick with tension as we made our way through the maze of crates toward their rendezvous point. The echo of our footsteps ricocheted off the walls, adding to the sense of foreboding that permeated the atmosphere.

Nick's informant, a wiry man named Frederico Sanchez, stood waiting nervously near the entrance. His eyes darted back and forth, scanning for any signs of danger. As we approached, Sanchez straightened up and extended a shaky hand.

"Drake," Sanchez said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Nice to finally meet you. Nick here has told me a lot about you."

I nodded curtly, assessing Sanchez's demeanor. I could see the fear etched into the man's face, evidence of the high stakes involved in the mission. Time was of the essence; we needed to infiltrate The Gladius Company as quickly as possible.

"Likewise," I replied as I returned the man’s handshake. “Now let’s go over the plan before we meet with your guy.”

Being on the same page was crucial. If any of these guys got a whiff that this was a setup, we were both dead. Nick would stay in the surveillance van, ready as backup if necessary. He couldn’t be seen by Saguaro or any of the men he’d brought with him from New York. They’d recognize the GIA agent that had brought down their last organization in an instant.

We poured over the plan twenty times, looking for inconsistencies, committing our cover story to memory, and working out the kinks. When it was time to go, I waved goodbye to Nick and got in a nondescript sedan with Sanchez. A quick check-in with headquarters told me that they had picked up Lorenzo’s contact, but he wasn’t talking.

With any luck, we wouldn’t need him to. I was hoping to set eyes on Rico when I met with Saguaro. If he was there, I was giving the order to breach. I knew what Nick’s objective was, but I didn’t give two shits about arresting Saguaro Laurent. It was Rico I was after. The man that had sent a kidnapper, albeit a bad one, after the woman I love.

The American justice system had failed and released a known mobster, allowing him to slip through their security net. But he wasn’t in America anymore. He was on my turf, and I had a literal license to kill.

Rico Mendez would spend the rest of his life in a Cordonian prison, or he would die, and it didn’t matter much to me which one it was. All I cared about was getting him off the streets and keeping Riley safe.

We arrived at the rendezvous spot, but nothing went according to plan.

I found myself in another damn warehouse. This one was on the waterfront and, if our intel was correct, not far from the empty factory that was serving as headquarters for The Gladius Company.

We arrived first and waited. Saguaro and his men were late, which only served to ramp up the already rapidly percolating anxiety in the man at my side.

Sanchez was too damn twitchy. Saguaro picked up on it instantly. He barely glanced at me before fixing Sanchez with a piercing stare. “What’s the problem, Freddy?”

“What?” Sanchez tried to laugh it off. “Nothing. What do you mean?”

Saguaro’s flinty eyes squinted at him, then flicked to me as his hand went to his waist. I had my gun in my hand before he could pull his. “Don’t do it! I really don’t want to shoot anyone today, but I will if I have to. What’s the problem?”

Saguaro moved his hand away from his piece and put his arms in the air. A flash of metal in my periphery caught my attention. “Get down!” I hit the ground just a shot rang out. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! This wasn’t how it was supposed to go down.

Men scattered everywhere. We were outnumbered, but not for long. I could hear Nick in my earpiece giving the order to breach. Sanchez was hit. I drug him with me out of the line of fire, ducking behind a stack of metal barrels as the rat-a-tat-tat of machine gun fire spattered all around us.

“Hey, Laurent!” I craned my neck to peek around the barricade.

The only answer I got was more gunfire. I retreated back behind the stack of barrels for safety as my team poured into the building.

Now they were outnumbered, and the warehouse was surrounded. Less than fifteen minutes later, Saguaro and his men were cuffed and being loaded into the back of several guard-issue SUVs.

“Johnson, hold up!” I jogged quickly across the asphalt to intercept the lieutenant escorting the head of Gladius Company to one of the waiting vehicles. I grabbed him by his shirt and shoved him roughly up against the car. “Where’s Mendez? Was he with you?”

“Fuck you!” He lurched forward in an attempt to headbutt me, but this wasn’t my first rodeo. I snapped my head sideways, causing him to stumble forward.

I grabbed his shoulders to steady him, then brought my knee up hard into his gut. “I look forward to interrogating you, asshole.”

I beelined for the tactical van. Bursting into the mobile command center, I demanded, “Did we get Mendez?”

“Sorry, man, no,” Nick shook his head. “No sign of him. But the good news is, we got Saguaro and his second in command. There’s a second team sweeping their headquarters now. We successfully took The Gladius Company down!”

He was far too jubilant for what I considered a botched mission. I slammed out of the van with a huff. Goddamn it!

Rico was in the wind.