a kiss shared between enemies during combat . ( me requesting a druhawk kiss in this setting >:)) )
your honor, they’re all i think about. / @a11sunday
In my dreams, I stay, she whispered so many nights ago against his lips, but I cannot, as he pulled her close with his aching tenderness buried beneath curtness and silent gazes. It wasn’t a matter of cruelty, the finality after a night of desperate entanglement inside the hallowed walls of his bedroom, but an eventuality. She had a captain, and a crew -- a life -- before him. It was a life debt, and she never properly mourned their fallen friends, the family she'd sailed with for ten years.
The world is a vast ocean of possibility -- yet, it can never let her escape the consequences of her actions for long. Mihawk finds her walking away from a farmer's market with her haul, carefully calculated in blocking her escape with his tall frame, Yoru on his back like an executioner's blade... until it isn't any longer.
Yoru glints in the light of the afternoon, just inches from her person.
All of her leonine instincts abandon her as she meets his eyes.
“Cilla,” he says, and it reminds her of the times he murmured it against her breasts, between her legs, like she was an unexpected treasure and he was finally allowing himself to be human for the gift of it. For someone who’s made a habit of being able to read him, she can’t tell if, despite the name, it means any affection is left between them. The reality of the thought tugs at the knot in her stomach.
“You always show up when I’m about to get away with something.” He is still a Warlord and she, now, has a greater bounty on her head for what she did in breaking Isabela out. “I will not fight you. Please, Mihawk," she’s reminded of her plea during the war as the words pass her lips: what right she had then doesn't exist now. She isn’t Cilla anymore, but a job, a quarry, to bring in. He’ll do it too.
She raises her blades with the intent of fighting her way out.
It's a deadly duet of ringing steel and scuffing boots; their breath mingling hard and fast in what little space comes between them, blades never quite catching the other. Their dance brings them together after a step, one of her swords meeting Yoru. His eyes watch her like the bird of his epithet, heat and sorrow flourishing within her. If she were a smarter woman, she would drop her swords and take his face between her hands, smoothing her thumbs over the sharp lines of his beard as she apologized.
He crowds in closer, knocking a knee between her legs while she gets pushed back against the cobblestone wall behind her. She leans in, drawn like a tempted woman, a woman who wants one last taste of the good she had, and he meets her the rest of the way -- his lips bruising, hers longing, both in each and both different, because his touch alights every nerve in her in a way that makes her sing.
Her expression must say what she cannot because he takes hold of her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. Mihawk’s thumb brushes against her lower lip, contradictory to the roughness of his prior touch. "Don't run from me," he says quietly.
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Just wanna say I was watching stream and live blogging while I was taking a shower, then after I got out of the shower and headed to my room with my towel
My mom said “I’m gonna hit you with this brush so hard it breaks”
She then proceeded to throw the brush at me
The brush hit my thumb with such force and in a certain way that made it bleed
So yea... that was my one cool story during this stream
But the stream was pretty cool doe
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just remembered umbrella academy is coming out in a couple days
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