#The ally the beast and the pretty boy

[princessfbi]

“What exactly is going on here?” + polyfire

Polyfire

“What exactly is going on here?” Buck whined as Tommy stopped, his strong arms tight around his waist holding him in place. It was too much and not enough. Too much of a shift from the relentless pounding he’d just been unraveling through to near stillness that held him on the brink of oblivion. Not enough because Eddie was there but too far away. Long, relaxed beautiful Eddie in his too tight jeans and maroon Henley that exposed just the top of that dusting of chest hair Buck loved. His eyebrow was arched with just a hint of that mean little tilt that usually had Buck scrambling to get on the closest available flat surface he could find but he couldn’t move. Not when he was speared on Tommy’s cock and digging bruises into his shoulders with his fingertips. Eddie’s eyes flicked away until he was fixing Tommy with a stare and it was just on the line of dismissive that had Buck writhing. Buck swallowed as his mouth went dry. Need built up like supernova beneath Buck’s skin and he tried to roll his hips back to fill the emptiness tunneled inside of him but Tommy held him tight, keeping Buck there on the brink without even a stutter in his expression. “Hi honey,” Tommy said, his lips skating across Buck’s swollen nipple where his teeth had just been. Buck shivered as the flicker of pain pleasure coursed through him. Static shot up his spine but the emptiness made it disappear too fast for him to get lost in. He tried to drop down, to fill himself, but Tommy just kissed his chest and held him there. “You got started without me?” Eddie demanded and Tommy hummed. “Sorry,” Tommy said, not sounding sorry at all as he blew a hot breath on the spit slick nipple. “You were taking too long.” Buck tried to squirm for attention but Tommy wouldn’t let him move and Eddie’s smoldering gaze was directly on Tommy and Tommy alone. “So long that you had to fuck him on the couch?” Tommy shrugged as he rubbed a stubbled cheek against him. The burn was almost too much and Buck scrambled as he threw his head back and gasped, torn between trying to get away and get closer for something. Anything! He would take anything! He’d been right there and then Eddie had walked in and Tommy had stopped. Buck tried to force himself down. His thighs were trembling from holding himself up. He needed to be filled. He needed— Tommy’s arms around him disappeared in a flash only for his hands to grab onto Buck’s thighs and lift him up even more. It wasn’t much! Buck wasn’t completely off and he could feel the scorching heat of Tommy’s cock right at his entrance. But it made Buck stutter out a whimper as he tried to hold him off from pulling out completely. “You know how he gets.” It should bother him that his boyfriends were talking like he wasn’t even in the room but all it did was spurn the hot desperation burning in his veins even more. Eddie’s eyes darkened. “That I do.” Buck could feel Tommy’s smirk against his chest. “Want to watch me make him scream?” Oh fuck. Eddie smirked as his gaze cut up to Buck. Oh fuck. “Absolutely.” And then Tommy wasn’t still anymore.

[loucifersbitch]

the discord has come up with a Trifecta Most Cursed, and now I must inflict it upon the 911blrsphere

thanks to @carrythatwayt's post based on my original post, I give you

breasting boobily

cocking dickily

and assing cheekily

you're welcome (or I'm sorry?)

also credit to @nelsonsmynickname and @powersuitup <3

[tommykinardismyautisticbbg]

CALLING ALL TOMMY KINARD & TEVAN FANS!!

We invite you to join our discord (by we i mean me😝)

This link had infinite uses and shouldn’t expire but if there are any issues please let me know and that’s all!!

Also psa to anyone who joins if you are interested in becoming a mod let me know!!

[loucifersbitch]

i read eddie and tommy fill the gaping hole and all i could think of was:

eddie and tommy fill in the gaping hole left by the michael bobby mess around after michael left

[navybrat817]

Puppy Dog Eyes

Pairing: William Miller x Female Reader

Summary: Will feels betrayed by someone he thought was his ally.

Word Count: Over 1k

Warnings: Fluff, humor, established relationship, talk of threats and interrogation, slight feels (it's me, okay?), William Miller (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: Inspired by this post @ghotifishreads tagged me in. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Will counted the seconds in his mind as he stared his adversary down. Someone he should've considered an ally. Maybe even a friend. But now? He didn't recognize the beast in front of him.

He was used to people playing dirty behind enemy lines, but this? Betrayal in familiar territory? The sting was like a bullet to the gut.

“Before you test my resolve, I want you to know that I have forty three confirmed kills.”

A huff was the only reply he got.

Crouching down so he was at eye level, he huffed, too. His enemy was much smaller in size, but looks could be deceiving. “Now, I’m not going to hurt you. It wouldn't do either of us any good,” he said, tapping a finger against his thigh. “I just want to know why.”

He didn't get an answer. Only a defiant stare. The silent treatment. That was fine. Nothing he hadn't faced before. He had ways to make enemies talk if it came to that. And the puppy dog eyes wouldn't garner sympathy from him.

Battle had hardened him too much for that.

Shut down. Control. Manipulate. That’s what he did with his human instincts until he completed his mission.

Will continued the staring contest until the smaller one whined. It wasn't an answer, but it was a start. “You made this personal, you know. And I’ll throw you out in the rain if you push your luck,” he threatened, tilting his head to maintain eye contact. “No. You don't get to look away. Not after what you did. After I took you into my home.”

And how did he repay him?

“Honey?”

Your voice pulled Will’s attention away from the task at hand. “Yeah, baby?”

You leaned against the doorway, a smile tugging at your kissable lips. “Are you interrogating Bandit?”

Bandit, the puppy Benny got weeks ago. The puppy you offered to watch since his brother was going out of town for a few days and he didn't want to board him. The same little rascal who chewed up a pair of tennis shoes. New tennis shoes.

And hadn't touched a single one of his chew toys.

Will nodded to his ruined shoes. “You saw what he did.”

“I did and I'm sorry,” you said, though you had no reason to apologize. It wasn't like you chewed them up. “He’s a puppy and they’re going to do those kinds of things from time to time. Is it really worthy of an interrogation?”

“Yes, it is.” Bandit swung his head toward you and whimpered. “No, don’t you-”

“Aww. Is the former Captain bothering you?” You walked over and scooped him into your arms. The light golden puppy snuggled close, but looked at Will like he was taunting him. You had a soft spot for dogs and Bandit sensed that. Used it to his advantage.

“Taking his side?”

“I’m always on your side, Will,” you said, softening his resolve. “Now, Bandit, you know you aren't supposed to do that. Play with your toys, not shoes. Okay?”

Bandit barked. He actually barked for you. How did you do that?

“And apologize to Will,” you urged.

He barked again.

“Good boy,” you smiled as Will stood up and crossed his arms. “And don't worry, we won't throw you out in the rain.”

“I still might just to teach him a lesson,” Will half teased. “Or I can just put him in his cage.”

Bandit whined and hid his face. “Don’t you dare. He’s a puppy, not a soldier. And you were happy with watching him until now. Besides, he said he was sorry,” you said, giving Will your own set of puppy dog eyes.

You had a point. Bandit was a pretty well-behaved puppy, all things considered. He didn't bite. Didn't make a mess when he ate. Went to the door when he had to go outside. And he seemed content to sleep in his dog bed and didn't demand to sleep with the two of you.

“Fine. No cage,” he relented.

“Thank you. And I’m sure Benny will buy you a new pair of shoes once he gets back,” you added.

“Maybe,” he said. He wouldn't hold his breath to get new shoes or money for the damage done. He may be Benny’s big brother, but Benny adored his puppy and would likely blame him for leaving them out in the first place. He had a routine though. He put his shoes in the same spot after he exercised.

To be fair, he should've been more careful. He would be in the future. If anything, he could try to see the positive side of things and use this as a learning experience. That's what you tried to do when you ran into unfortunate situations.

“Is it a bad time to suggest we get our own puppy?” You asked, smiling as you lifted Bandit up higher and put his cheek against yours. “Chewed up shoes and a scratched up couch aside, it might be nice.”

Dogs did make for great companions. He’d be lying if he said he hadn't pictured the two of you having a kid and a dog for them to grow up with. Someone who would be a friend to and watch over his child.

“What do you think?” You smiled when he stayed quiet for too long.

He softly smiled. Most people couldn't sway him to do anything, but you had a way about you. Maybe it was because he loved you. “I’ll think about it.”

You put Bandit down before you leaned in and brushed your lips against Will’s. “Thank you.”

He went in for another kiss, but stopped when the words fully registered. “Wait.” He narrowed his eyes. “Did you say scratched up couch?”

“...Did I say that? I don't recall.”

“I remember everything you’ve ever said to me,” he told you.

You put a hand over your heart. “That is so romantic.”

“And you said ‘chewed up shoes and a scratched up couch aside, it might be nice’, so what exactly did he do to our couch?”

Your eyes widened as you took a step back. “Run, Bandit!”

And he did.

I couldn't help myself. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[starlightshadowsworld]

It fascinates me how practically every character in Bungou Stray Dogs reaffirms over and over and over again that Atsushi and the tiger are one and the same.

Except for Fyodor.

Dazai tells Atsushi in episode 1, chapter 1 that you were the tiger all along. Kunikida’s iconic “you’re a weretiger, grow some wereballs.”

Akutagawa has always called him some variation of man-tiger, Jinko and weretiger. Mori’s referred to him as the Agency’s weretiger. Higuchi, Kajii, Hirotsu and everyone else in the Port Mafia (apart from Kouyou who calls him lad/boy) call him weretiger.

Fitzgerald calls Atsushi the Tiger Beetle, Dragon Tiger while he’s the enemy. And then weretiger and lycanthrope boy when he’s an ally. Lucy has called him tiger boy on multiple occasions as does Nikolai and Fukuchi also calls him weretiger.

The orphanage hid it from him and yet there was always a connection between them. The cage, the “beast of calamity” moniker. The tiger destroyed all the crops but Atsushi got blamed and kicked out for it.

But most importantly, Atsushi himself reaffirms this when he learns the truth. His journey throughout the series (especially Dead Apple) is about accepting the tiger as part of himself.

There’s an omake where the Agency confirm the ‘man eating’ thing was a rumour. And Atsushi asks “I was called the man eating tiger right? I didn’t eat anyone…did I?”

During his final battle with Shibusawa, Atsushi says “no, that’s not an ability. It’s me.”

He had used “the tigers claws” and “my claws” pretty interchangeably throughout the series. There’s also the whole “that was the moment I used my claws” from Dead Apple. (Akutagawa has even called them “our claws.”)

In 55 minutes when Atsushi transforms this is what’s said: The tiger was not of this world. It only existed within him. It was his arrogance and cowardice, his pride and sense of shame.

I could go on but I think I’ve made my point.

And yet despite of all this Fyodor treats Atsushi and the tiger as two separate beings.

The bounty was for a tiger. It doesn’t mention an ability user at all. Dazai only figured the two were one after Atsushi’s whereabouts matched where the tiger had been sighted.

Fyodor (119) says to Atsushi he was chased “because you and the tiger are special.” Then says it was a lie because he’s not interrelated in Atsushi in the slightest.

Fyodor’s only interested in the bookmark, the tiger. Even when he’s pissed at poor Atsushi for…crying(?) “How unpleasant. To think that abhorrent, nobel, glistening tiger dwells within such a…”

Also Fyodor literally tried to have the tiger separated from Atsushi, twice. He consistently tries to create a divide between Atsushi and the tiger. But we’ve been told from the start that Atsushi is the tiger. The tiger is Atsushi. Atsushi is the weretiger.

So it feels to me that it’s something Atsushi’s long since accepted but Fyodor simply refuses too.

[sinnerdolly]

Good loser—Nagi Seishiro

Minors do not interact. Nsfw/Smut.

word counter—1160.

Plot—Nagi's just lost a game, so now he wants to claim his consolation prize... you.

warning— stable relationship, soft!dom Nagi, kinda public sex. Y/n has a bit of a pedantic personality with everybody except Nagi.

English isn't my mother language, if you see any error you're welcome to correct me.

People are complex, attraction even more so, added to attraction we have monogamy, which we want to make independent as well. Because holding someone else is a symbol of little commitment, but the separation of assets is logical.

Toxicity is quite abundant these days, or so I see walking the university hallways. Fights between boys over some bimbo with a nice ass, a primate situation; hippie allies philosophizing to fuck her "friend", plot twist she's going to fuck the biggest idiot of all. Because, I repeat, instinct chooses.

And, unfortunately, I found myself in the same situation. My eyes went to one boy in particular, Nagi Seishiro, my recent boyfriend. Five months of relationship, thanks to my desire to sleep at a party and him playing video games in the same room when I woke up.

For a prejudiced critic like me, not deciphering him made me interested in knowing him. Nagi was such an odd chap. At first glance he was lazy and listless, but losing somehow highlighted a passionate fire in his eyes that made me wet.

Like this moment, he had just lost to Ryusei Shidou on penalties, and he was heading towards my place in the stands, his gray eyes focused on me, sweaty and frustrated, desperate to claim me as a consolation prize, knowing how much I love to be it.

He stood out in the crowd, the imposing manner of his walking causing people to step out of the way. Pretty funny since he's the gentlest person I know.

“I want you right now”

I nodded like a fool, hypnotized by that aura of a caged beast that his pores gave off. The heat in my belly spread to the inside of my legs, the desire awakening in anticipation. The words he had just said meant one thing... he was going to fuck me in the first lonely corner he saw. So I went down the steps, taking him by his narrow wrist and we disappeared through the doors of the main bedrooms.

When the door closed, I couldn't continue on my way, Nagi grabbed me by the left thigh, and carried me only with the strength of one hand. Our noses touched, and his eyelids were no longer half-closed from laziness, but from desire. My mouth was watering from kissing him.

With each step the kisses became more intense, the touch had a purely carnal objective. My hand went under his shirt, feeling the smooth sculpted skin on his abs, while he dryly rubbed his erection against me. Sighs and ragged breaths, interspersed between lips and tongues.

The laundry room didn't have a key, so Nagi soon slammed the door to lock us inside. My feet met the ground again, while his hands caressed my buttocks in search of the condom that I always bring to his games.

I threw my blouse somewhere in the room, unbuttoning the fly of my pants afterwards. With impatience consuming him, Seishiro lifted me by the waist and sat me on one of the washing machines, finishing the job on my jeans.

Now with complete freedom of my joints, he placed me like a rag doll around his hips, pressing me against his chest. The warmth that his skin gave off took away the cold of that humid room.

He opened the condom with a slight tug between his teeth. And he scattered desperate kisses along my neck and collarbones, while he spread the latex along his cock. My fingers tugged at his white hair a little, drawing a few gasps from him.

It was enough to move my panties aside a little for him to slide between my rubbery walls, so lubricated that they didn't even need prior stretching. Of course, with or without games, it's always hard to take Nagi, if it weren't for his softdom nature, I probably wouldn't be able to handle him.

His thrusts were deep, as were his lips devouring mine. My body was pressed against his immense figure, while my legs were held in place by those large hands.

It didn't take long for the moans to spill out into the darkness, our gazes connected, expressing the sated lust for the other. I could feel his racing heart pounding against my chest.

The moment was so intimate that it was difficult not to come from the pleasure, Nagi blinded my senses, the chemistry between us makes the most ridiculous situations passionate, like now, fucking on a washing machine; but at this moment, with his member stimulating every erogenous zone inside me, it seemed like a scene worthy of a Shakespearean novel.

Nagi twitched between my walls, signaling that he was close. I let out a little cry of surprise when I was in the air again, holding on tightly to Sei's shoulders, who, with just the strength of his arms, began to fuck me with fervor again.

My moans turned into a kind of hiccup between jumps that made him put his hands on my butt. Stunned by my boyfriend's actions, I looked into his eyes, to find that obsessed look that only appears on the court focused on me... tss and I thought I couldn't get any hornier.

My lungs were suffocating, and my eyes were watering from the pleasure. I think my lower lip was bleeding from how hard I bit it, trying to reduce the screams. Almost impossible when his sturdy tip hit so deep, and his thickness stretched me so well.

"Sei..." I gasped desperately, tightly wrinkling the collar of his t-shirt. “I'm going... I'm coming”

He kissed my lips one last time, before convulsions shattered my stability and pleasure exploded throughout my body. My eyelids closed, and the waves of heat seemed eternal along with his attacks against my center.

I was so sensitive that I could feel the condom being filled inside me. Now still, Nagi held me while we caught our breath, still hit by the intensity of the orgasm. A minute or two later, he placed me on the washing machine again.

And, with a somewhat cooler head, we managed to talk.

“I'm sorry you lost, are you okay?”

I caressed his cheeks gently, while he replicated the action on my thighs. He gave me one of his taciturn smiles, Nagi is one of those people who smiles with his eyes and barely moves the corner of his mouth, an adorable detail from my perspective.

“Good? I couldn’t be better”

Sei pushed his weight forward, ready to kiss me. Apparently during our intimate time we pressed several buttons by accident, because the machine below me started to move, scaring the shit out of me.

Nagi laughed when he saw me clinging to his chest like a terrified kitten. I hit his shoulder, feigning offense, but he continued laughing... so I had no choice but to kiss him while laughing.

What can I tell? The other couples are shit next to us.

[ody3baby]

Yeeeesss I love it!!

do you have any headcanons about dancing?

Well since we know that Ryan is a great dancer (bless you step up movies) and that Eddie himself has canonically said that he's "an excellent dancer" (whether he is or not has remained to be seen) I've always thought that he was AND headcanoned that one of his three jobs he had in Texas after returning from the Army was a dance instructor at a dance studio.

I can also see Tommy naturally being a good dancer even though I'm not sure he thinks he is or not.

Now Buck on the other hand (Mr. Bambi Legs over here) tends to step on people's toes and trip but he still loves it.

Turning this into buddietommy, I can't help but imagine them all loving to dance together but Eddie and Tommy are a lot better at it and tend to go fancy with it (Tommy easily takes all the moves Eddie teaches him like a champ). They still love to dance with Buck and he loves learning new moves too. When he inevitably trips or missteps they all crack up, having the best time!

tysm for the ask babe!! 🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

sleepover weekend

[icycoldninja]

Hello! I have a request for Dante, Vergil & Nero - their s/o has a Shadow (the dmc1 version or kind of like how V has one) as a pet. How would the guys think about if that makes sense?

Thanks in advance if you write for it :3

You're very welcome, hope you enjoy! 💜💜

Sparda boys x Reader with a Shadow headcannons

¤ Dante ¤

-He would be pretty indifferent, seeing as he comes across beasts like these nearly all the time.

-However, the fact that it's tamed is a testament to your strength--not everyone can get these wild creatures to obey them.

-Treats your Shadow like a regular housecat, scratching it behind the ears, petting it, and so on.

-Just like any other cat owner, Dante gets scratched a great deal and considering the sharpness of a Shadow's claws, often has to use a few green orbs to recover.

-He still loves your Shadow; he's just a bit more wary when playing with it.

-100% allows it to come along with him during missions, and occasionally buys it treats on the way home.

■ Vergil ■

-Vergil would be interested to hear how you managed to tame such a ferocious beast, let alone keep it as a pet.

-Of course, he'd never admit any of that aloud because of his damning pride and massive inferiority complex, so he decides the best way to address the situation is to stab himself in the chest so V can pop out and do all the talking for him.

-You and V end up bonding more thanks to your pets' shared species; V will give you tips on how to get your giant demon cat off your lap while you're working and you'll give V advice on how to keep your Shadows' coats shiny.

-Both your Shadows also get along quite well, and since they're identical in shape, size, color and sound, passing pedestrians think they're seeing double, or that there's a glitch in the matrix.

-Vergil himself hates your pet demon, but that's probably only because it loves him. Your Shadow is always leaping into his lap, purring, and nuzzling him.

-The old grump will warm up to your monstrous fur-baby eventually, just give him time.

□ Nero □

-Is genuinely afraid of your Shadow but refuses to admit or show it.

-His fear does not stem from the fact that your pet is some spooky, ethereal demon panther, but because it scratches him all the time, both unintentionally and intentionally. While the scratches themselves are light and usually aren't all that painful, they're not pleasant and therefore should be avoided.

-If Nero is ever required to touch your Shadow for any reason, he will only do so with his prosthetic arm to minimize damage.

-Still, your pet is a powerful battle ally, and Nero is willing to set aside his fears in order to cooperate with this demon cat.

-Eventually, he finds himself growing less afraid of your pet, his fears finally melting away in favor of fondness.

-Soon, Nero and your Shadow become the best of friends; your pet is now more attached to Nero than it is to you.

[thetempleofthemasaigoddess]

Built a haven for your love (until I let you fall apart)

Mihawk x reader. NSFW!!

This fic is part of the Beast in Black series.

Note - 13/11/2023: I have edited the fic to delete a brief, completely unimportant reference to Kain, the reader's past lover, in order to focus on other, more important characters.

*****

What I wanted to ask you is... do you wanna have a baby?

Dracule Mihawk doesn't have friends; he hasn't had any for a long time, maybe since he was still a child and forming bonds with school mates was almost inevitable. He knows, without guilt or embarrassment, that the fault is largely his own, since approaching him requires a certain courage, given his intimidating figure, not to mention his reputation; he prides himself on the fact he has never hurt an innocent, least of all voluntarily, but many people don't even need to know about his activities and his deadly ability as a swordsman to perceive he is not the sort of man you could invite to join you at the bar.

He is fine with that; truthfully, he is happy with that, since he has always preferred his own company to that of others; perhaps it is presumptuous of him, but most people bore him in the best of cases... and get on his nerves in the worst. At best, he has a few acquaintances he doesn't mind meeting, like Shanks (even though he doesn't consider the Red-Haired pirate a worthy opponent anymore, given the loss of his arm)... or you.

Your acquaintances goes back a long time, after a chance meeting soon after the beginning of your respective carreers. A swordsman who had challenged him was killed by you the day before they had agreed to meet for their duel; you apologized for stealing his adversary, and offered to split the bounty as compensation, but Mihawk declined, convinced that the fact that the other swordsman had been so easily killed made him an unworthy opponent, so in a way you had spared him a waste of time. You parted (somehow) amicably, and that had been your last encounter for years, until you had both allied yourself with the Marines, him as one of the Seven Warlords of the Sea and you as a mercenary, both not exactly on the World Government's payroll but still regularly called upon to carry out assignments suited to your particular talents.

You have never exactly looked for each other, but for some reason you have met often and regularly, both at the Marine HQ and wherever your travels would bring you. You are extremely capable at what you do, proud of your abilities and accomplishments without lapsing into boastfulness, smarter than many of the people he has to deal with and a pleasant company when the two of you find yourselves killing time with a glass of wine as you wait to meet Vice-Admiral Garp. Mihawk... likes you, in a sense, a feeling that is in part respect and in part a fondness he can't describe; it is pleasant talking to you, you never get on his nerves like many people do, and he can't help admiring the bravery, stubbornness and resourcefulness that have made you the best mercenary in the four seas, capable of hunting down whoever you are pursuing across land and sea and dispatch them, accurate, relentless, and inexorable. He wouldn't say he looks forward to seeing you, but you are one of the few people he doesn't mind meeting, and is pretty sure you feel the same.

That is how things are between the two of you; such they have been for years, and such Mihawk expects them to remain for the foreseeable future... until today. Until your proposal, and since he has been a boy very few things and people have been able to surprise him, but this... this really takes the cake.

"Is it good to see you; it's been a while." you say, receiving a nod in response. A small, well-lit chamber in the Marine HQ is used as a waiting room for officers and civilians waiting for a meeting or to be received by a superior, and this is where the two of you have met, having both come to the HQ for your own affairs; you seemed happy to see him, and he had accepted your invite to sit and enjoy a glass of wine, that you had languidly ordered to the first cadet who had walked past you.

"It has."

"Are you leaving or returning?"

"Returning; I have to report to Garp." Mihawl explains as he makes himself comfortable on the chair; he has not fully carried out the task he had been assigned, since the young pirate who has inherited Shank's straw hat is still at large, but he is not worried of the repercussions; after all, he is not the Marines' lap dog, the Vice-Admiral's even less "Yourself?"

"Just received my new assignment; I'm leaving for the North Blue in the morning. Just killing some time until my dinner reservation." you elaborate; one of your many guns (you always have no less than four on your person, from the long rifle you carry slung over your shoulder to a tiny but deadly pistol you keep hidden in the wide sleeve of your shirt) is placed on your lap, together with the rag you have used to polish it until the arrival of your drink "So, what keeps the greatest swordsman in the world busy these days?"

You listen intently as he tells you about Zoro, a young and impulsive adversary he nonetheless is sure will one day will be worthy of his attention, and then you tell him about your latest quarry: a man who, knowing you were pursuing him, had hidden in a ball-room full of people during a dance, confident that the quick-moving throng around him would make it impossible for a sniper to aim. He didn't have the time to realize how wrong he was when you, hanging upside-down from a lamppost across the street, shot him through a window in the middle of a valzer, your bullet brushing against his partner's cheek without hurting her and passing through his skull from his left orbit.

"Impressive." Mihawk says; he doesn't tell you he could count the people who have earned such a compliment from him on the fingers of one hand, but you smile, clearly flattered.

"Thank you."

For a couple minutes, the only noise in the room is the soft song of the backwash filtering through the windows; you seem... pensive, Mihawk thinks, not sad but vaguely tense as you sip your wine, as if there were a problem you can't find a solution for.

The only other people present in the room are a trio of captains arguing over a map on the table in front of them; coming in, they have glared at both of you, as if unhappy to see a couple of miscreants like you, a pardoned pirate and a woman who kills for money, among them, but both you and Mihawk have ignored them. He sees a look of satisfaction on your face when finally the three uniformed officers leave; as soon as you are alone, you look at him.

"May I ask you something?"

Mihawk looks back; this is why you were anxious, he realizes. Even though you try to maintain a calm, almost casual tone, the tenseness is still clear in your eyes and in your ramrod posture, and in the way in which you almost subconsciously grip the gun in your hands, not to point it against him but because it makes you feel safer and more in control.

It is the same for him; otherwise, no matter how confident he is in his capacities as a swordsman, he would not sleep with Yoru under his bed... and the Kogatana under his pillow.

"You may." he concedes; not of course, or tell me everything, because such expansiveness is as far from his personality as it is possible to be, and you know it well. But he knows you as well, and because of this, he is willing to listen; he has no idea what you may want to discuss (maybe a partnership for a particularly challenging task? If so he might humour you, if the quarry is interesting. He wouldn't mind seeing you at work) but he must admit, he is curious... just a little "What is it?"

You breathe in, like a diver ready to jump; you don't lack courage, and still, for a moment Mihawk expects to hear you say "It doesn't matter." and leave it there.

You don't.

"I would like to ask you... if you'd like to have a baby with me."

*****

You can't remember ever being so nervous, even though he is the last of a long list of men you have approached (but after all, none of them were like the one sitting in front of you; none, you have come to suspect, could ever be), but when you look at Mihawk, who after a whole minute has yet to utter a single word, you feel a smile blossoming on your lips.

"Are you surprised? I should be proud, I left the infamous "Hawk Eyes" Mihawk speechless..."

"Is this a joke?" he inquires, and you would have to be deaf to ignore the threat in his voice; your smile disappears, as quickly as it had come.

"Absolutely not; I know you are not the joking sort, and this matter is extremely important to me. Give me five minutes and everything will be clear."

He doesn't answer, not even with a nod, but he remains where he is, silently allowing you to go on, and you swallow, your mouth suddenly as dry as if you hadn't had a sip of water in days. You are not afraid of him (not actively, at least; he could probably kill you, if he tried, but you know he is not the sort of man who needlessly resorts to violence for the simple pleasure to hurt others... and maybe, just maybe, your long acquaintance will grant you a little of his patience) but probably you'd have been better off keeping him out of your little plan. After all, there are so many other candidates, healthy men whose cooperation you could secure with a bought drink and a bit of sweet talking; involving him (a man you know, and respect, and because of this who you feel obliged to be honest with, not to mention it would be hard to keep him in the dark regarding your plan, since you meet semi-regularly) is unnecessarily complicated... but at the same time something in your heart, a tiny voice you have stopped listening to eight years ago, tells you that this is the right choice, he is - for your future child, and maybe for you as well.

"I don't think you know this, but I am the heir of a noble house." you begin "My family rules over an island in the North Sea. It is nothing special, tiny compared to many others similar domains, but the soil is fertile and we have trade agreements in place with many other kingdoms and cities; about fifteen hundred people live on the island, and my family has governed them for more than ten centuries. It is a very beautiful place, with a mild climate and a luxuriant nature."

Silence.

"Sorry, sometimes I get carried out when I talk about my home. Anyway, I am the only heir to the family; I have no siblings and my mother is too old to have other children, which means that the responsibility to ensure the continuation of the family lineage falls on my shoulders. Because of this, I have decided it is time for me to bear an heir who will one day rule our home; and because of this, I need someone to sire a child for me."

Silence again, and you know him well enough to know that Mihawk never utters three words if one is sufficient, nor does he appreciates useless talk from his interlocutor, so you force yourself to keep silent as well, feeling your heart beating fast enough to hurt. The worst he can do is refuse your offer, which would be disappointing (it would really be, you realize in your heart; a bitter, deep disappointment) but not an insurmountable problem, and you'd be free to look for another donor, but still, you find yourself holding your breath as you wait for an answer. Why do you feel like this?, you wonder; he is just one man, one you have grown deeply fond of in the years since your first meeting and whose blood would undoubtedly produce healthy, strong and attractive offspring, but suddenly you feel desperate to receive a positive answer, and you don't know why. Is it because after five years, you're starting to lose hope? Or because you know how embarrassing it would be, to think back to his refusal when you would meet Mihawk again in the future? Or maybe...?

"Don't noble families require a member to be married in order for their children to be eligible to inherit?" the man in front of you suddenly asks "I seem to understand you are not asking for my hand."

"I am not; what I would like from you is to get me pregnant, that's all. It is true that the children of unmarried couples are often forbidden from inheriting, especially in the case of a noble family, but things are different in my island. Marriage is often just a formality and a personal choice, and no large difference exists between couples who actually tie the knot and those who don't, nor between the treatment given to their children. A blood relationship with the ruler, or their heir, is enough to ensure suitability as far as the inheritance of the fief is concerned; I could technically adopt a child from another family, but their position would be less solid. I have no siblings or other close relatives: if the child is born from my womb, there will be no reason to doubt their qualifications." you explain, secretly relieved Mihawk has not refused your proposal already but suddenly wishing you could exchange the average red wine in your glass for a sip of cool water "So... are you interested?"

Silence - again, and this time it is clear to you Mihawk is reflecting on your words, something you can't blame him for, and obviously this is the sort of proposal you can't decide on in a matter of minutes, not to mention he is clearly the sort of man who likes to meditate on what he does, but at the same time you can't take it anymore... the silence is going to kill him.

"Mihawk, please." you murmur. For a moment you are about to rest your hand on his over the table, an innocent contact to lend more weight to your words, but thank all the Gods you stop yourself in time since, good acquaintances or not, in a heartbeat you'd probably find your hand amputated by the little blade hanging from Mihawk's neck "Tell me what you're thinking."

His eyes, until now focused on the wine in his glass, move to you, and for the first time since you remember, you need to make an effort to hold his gaze, not because of his eyes, whose colour actually reminds you of a bird of prey, rather because of the intent behind them: he is observing you like a scientist studying an interesting experiment, and it is not pleasant.

Stop it now, you're about to say, but once more, you force yourself to hold your tongue; you are not afraid of him, you have never been, but after all you're trying to earn his collaboration.

"I have a few questions." he states in the end, folding his hands on his lap.

"Understandable. Please ask."

"Why are you asking me?"

"Well, you're not my first choice." you confess, immediately aware those words don't precisely convey your thoughts; you glance at him, suddenly curious to know if he found them offensive, but Mihawk's face is as expressive as the wall behind him "I mean, I have started trying to conceive five years ago, and consequently it was then that I have started searching for a donor. Until now, I have chosen men I didn't previously know; I made sure they were healthy, because obviously I want my child to be physically and mentally sound, and young, since at a certain point age results in a decline of fertility. But now..."

"Now?"

You shrug. "I don't know. I am tired of sleeping with men I don't even know and don't feel attracted to; seducing them is not easy, since I have never been good at flirting, and I can't help feeling guilty when some of them ask to see me again. With you it would be different, and this is why I am coming clean about my real intent; with the others I didn't, and not simply because we meet regularly and you would notice I was pregnant and suspect the child was yours. I know you are in excellent health, and since I want what is best for my child, I'd be happy if they inherited your skills and strength of character."

"I see."

He seems uncertain - he is uncertain, you realize, maybe like it rarely happens in his life; but he is actually considering your proposal, which is already more than you felt confident about.

"What if I wanted to be part of the child's life?" he says after a while "And what if they were not fit to rule your island? Healthy parents can have sick children as well."

"Do you think I would put aside my child simply because...?"

"Answer me."

In your heart you can't blame him for asking, rather the fact that he wants to make sure the child will be taken care of does him credit; he doesn't seem the sort of man who dreams of fatherhood, but after all he deserves to have his say on the matter. So you tell him that your child will have to be raised on your island, since it will be necessary for them to know the land and the people they will one day have to rule, not to mention to receive the necessary education, but nothing forbids their father to spend some time with them, either there or wherever else. "You could visit our island as often as you want, or they could visit you; I'm sure you'll keep them safe. On the other hand, if you wished to have nothing to do with them, I would respect it; I would also keep your name a secret, if you so desire. And whatever happens, even if, Gods forbid, our child got sick or something actually made him unfit to rule, I would still take care of them at the best of my ability. I don't want you to think they would be a means to an end; I don't want a centuries-long lineage to end with me, and I know of my duties towards my island, but... but I do want a child. I want to become a mother, I have for a long time; and there is nothing I would not do to defend my child, not after...

... after what I have been through. After I failed once already.

"... after wanting it for so long."

Silence. Again. You are still clutching your wine glass, hard enough to break it you realize, and as you place it on the table between the two of you Mihawk is still deep in his thoughts, his fingers intertwined on his knee; after a while (you have practically stopped breathing) he opens his mouth to talk...

"Hawk-eye Mihawk? Vice-Admiral Garp is waiting for you."

You have nothing against the cadet who has just joined you at the table (a young, short man with pink hair and round glasses) but you find yourself glaring at him, wishing he had better timing. Mihawk doesn't try to hide his dissatisfaction either.

"I will be with him in a moment." he says with an hand-wave, as if to dismiss the messenger; for a moment the cadet looks as if he's about to say something, before wisely deciding it really is not worth it, and leaves the two of you alone.

Mihawk stands; in a moment, he has retrieved Yoru from the wall he had placed it against and he has placed it on his back, the movement as fluid and apparently effortless as those of a dancer. "I will think about it." he says; he doesn't add I promise or anything of the sort, but you can trust him (you do already) and you know it, and because of this, you smile.

"I know you will. Thank you; thank you for listening to what I had to say." you say, and then he leaves, and you pour yourself another glass of wine, still thirsty but aware you need more than water to recover.

*****

The sight of the sun disappearing beyond the horizon, the flame-red ball seemingly drowning in the dark waters of the sea, is still breath-taking; Mihawk loved it when he first took the sea as a young man, and while no one could ever consider him a romantic (not that many people know him well enough to get an impression of his personality, but still) he finds it equally charming now, so many years later.

The harbour is almost empty around him, a few sailors who hurry to secure their boats before retiring, while the Marines doing the night shift cross the paved path behind him to reach their post. A gentle wind has risen, the white feathers on Mihawk's hat and the tails of his coat barely stirring; he doesn't notice, so focused he is on the spectacle taking place as every day in front of him... and on the surprising proposal he has received four hours ago.

(name) has amazed him; that he has to give her. He would have never imagined her in the role of the scion of a noble family, given her collected but friendly personality, completely devoid of the conceit and sense of superiority so common among the few World Noble he has crossed path with, but at the same time, it isn't hard to imagine her drafting laws or collecting taxes in the little corner of world her family has ruled over for so long. How did a woman whose destiny had undoubtedly been prepared for her since before she was born (Mihawk had no doubts about it, given the care (name) herself had already taken programming the future of their child) end up working as a mercenary? Is her fief so impoverished she needs to raise funds to take care of her people? Or is it simply an hobby to pursue while the previous generation still rules... ?

Their child. The thought appars, sudden and unbidden, in his mind, and Mihawk finds himself struggling to breathe for a moment. He has never given much thought to a possible future paternity, and during his (very sporadic, at least in the last decade) sexual encounters he has always made sure to avoid the risk of pregnancy. Still, the idea of having a child with (name) is... intriguing. He has no doubt she would take care of her progeny in the best way possible, and while he has never considered himself an ambitious man, the prospect of contributing to perpetuate a centuries-long lineage is... pleasing; also, should the child demonstrate an attitude for swordsmanship, he could take them on as an apprentice and bequeath them his knowledge and capacities...

And then there is the other thing. The fact he is almost embarrassed to admit even in the privacy of his own heart, the small but not insignificant detail that has caught him off guard like no adversary has ever done since he was thirteen: the warmth that has filled his belly, and the area below that, when the mental image of him and (name) conceiving that child... the two of them naked, in bed together... blossomed in his mind.

He shouldn't feel embarrassed, let alone distressed, because of that. He is an adult, having thoughts and desires of a sexual nature is perfectly normal, and he has no troubles admitting, at least privately, that (name) is an attractive woman; he surely is not the first man to be attracted to her.

... am I? Attracted to her? I have never thought about her in such a way, let alone about the two of us together; and there was nothing lascivious in the way she discussed her proposal. She wasn't trying to... to seduce me, she asked for a favour but it was more akin to a business deal. Then why am I feeling like this?

He sighs, his eyes still focused on the darkening expanse of the sea. The whole matter is probably harmless, but delicate enough to potentially cause troubles down the line; but after all, what would they have to fear? The idea of becoming a father is not so unpleasant after all, he and (name) are both adults and have the sort of relationship he is confident would not suffer after the end of their... tryst. At worst, they will spend a few pleasant hours together; at best, they will have something precious to carry out their lineage once their time is over.

It is getting darker by the minute. Mihawk remains still, his svelte figure cloaked by the night, witnessing the sun disappearing under the sea.

*****

Dinner was nice. If there is a positive side in your visits to the Marine HQ, besides the thousands of berry you are paid every time you successfully carry out an assignment, is the possibility to visit the city's establishments, among which many world-class restaurants; after all, Admirals cannot always dine in the mess hall, and while you'd be content to taste your island's local cuisine for the rest of your days, sometimes it's nice to have a little variety.

Now, your belly pleasantly full, you are sitting cross-legged on the bed in the inn room you have booked for the night, still busy polishing your weapons, like you do at least once a week. A few of them (a couple of revolvers, customized to hold up eight cartridges instead of six; a carbine with a barrel longer than your leg, that you took as a souvenir from the last man you killed; an ancient varmint rifle you regularly use to hunt larger preys than badgers and boars; and your personal favourite, a beautiful, muzzleloading derringer, your name engraved on the ivory butt, that you always hide under your pillow before going to sleep) are neatly arranged on the duvet in front of you, waiting for their turn. You are singing softly under your breath as you clean the barrel of a gun from the drops of blood left by your latest quarry, when an unexpected noise comes to disturb your concentration: a discreet, soft but resolute, knocking on the door.

You haven't told him what inn you're staying in, nor were you thinking about your discussion at the Marine HQ. Still, you immediately know who it is, as sure as you are of your own name, and when you stand from the bed, the way your hand immediately moves to grasp the derringer is more out of habit than because of a potential danger, and the way your legs are suddenly shaking might be because you stood all of a sudden after more than an hour spent cross-legged, or maybe not...

You force yourself to cross the room. "Who is it?" you ask in a deliberately questioning tone. You would recognize the firm, vaguely husky voice filtering from the other side of the door everywhere, even without the soft whisper of the name of his owner. A moment later you have pulled the handle towards you, and you and Mihawk are face to face, again after just a few hours, but suddenly you feel, and he looks, as if it everything had changed - as if you had.

"Hello."

"Good evening." Mihawk greets you; he is not smiling - if he ever did, you think, the world would probably stop turning on its axis "Is it too late? Am I disturbing you?"

"Of course not; please, come in."

He looks around him as you close the door, unhurriedly examining the weapons on the bed, the folded clothes on the tiny desk, the boots you have taken off as soon as you returned in a corner; and then he looks at you, and for a moment you forget how to breathe.

You feel his gaze on the back of your head as you retrieve your weapons from the bed and neatly place them on the desk, except for the derringer, which is simply moved to the bedside table; you haven't been anywhere, not even in the privacy of your own room at home, without a loaded gun within easy reach ever since you were ten, and you don't intend to start now.

"Please, make yourself comfortable." you invite him, and a moment later Mihawk is sitting next to you on the bed, Yoru resting against the wall, and you feel yourself smiling softly at him, still unbelieving you are actually here - with him.

As you dined (and wined; you immediately stop drinking alcohol after one of your trysts, well aware of the dangers for the baby you each time hope has been conceived in your womb, but the only silver lining to getting your period once more is that you can start again, if only to drown your sorrows) you had started regretting involving Mihawk in your plan. While it is true that you're tired of sleeping with men you don't even know, much less like, and that any child would be lucky to inherit his gifts, the choice of an acquaintance as a donor is potentially even more complicated; first of all, he is aware of what you plan on doing, which means that it will be next to impossible to fully exclude him from your child's life, should the need arose. One of the reasons you are an excellent mercenary is that you are resilient and stubborn enough to follow your quarry to the other end of the world and back, without giving up until your bullet is in their brain or heart and their bounty in your pocket, but you know no one and nothing, barring perhaps death, could ever keep Mihawk away from something he is keen on. You are more than willing to let him be part of his child's life, and you don't think he would ever hurt them, but still, who knows what could happen...

And then, there is another reason, one it is hard to explain logically. What had become as a simple business proposal (this is what you had intended it to be when you spoke to him, you could swear it on your mother's life) has quickly become something else, something more delicate and less rational, all of it in the few minutes you and Mihawk spent discussing it, and then later you couldn't help reflecting about it, wondering what he thought about your proposal and whether he would accept it, as you enjoyed your dinner.

Having a child with Mihawk... and more specifically, Mihawk putting a child inside you. You have forgotten (it has been a mistake, a simple and natural failure to recall a relatively small detail during an already complex discussion. You didn't do it on purpose!) to tell him there is no need for the two of you to sleep together, artificial insemination is a common occurrence nowadays and the doctors on your island are more than capable. It would be much easier the other way, but honestly, you hadn't meant to suggest... to give him the impression that you wanted to...

You chided yourself for your forgetfulness, in case that was actually a dealbreaker for him and Mihawk would not think to propose a less invasive procedure himself, and then... and then it was as if you couldn't stop thinking about it, thinking about him... and how it would be, what it would feel like. You'd have nothing against it... quite the opposite, actually, you realized as you emptied the wine carafe on your table and asked the waiter for another.

Mihawk is an attractive man. Extremely attractive, actually, especially if one looks beyond the menacing look, deadly reputation, and the huge sword on his back (or, if one is actually attracted by that sort of man. You might.. not not be.) to notice his elegant and athletic figure, the chiseled features of his face, the well-styled beard and hair... even his eyes are exceptionally beautiful, that deep, penetrating yellow gaze that actually reminds you of a bird of prey. You have no idea whether he has a partner or not, but you'd be ready to bet he doesn't lack in admirers... even though approaching him would require no small amount of courage.

You have known him since you were barely more than a girl, and met him regularly for years, and you have never thought about him like that, never even realized how handsome he is. Or rather, you were aware of the fact (after all, you are not blind!) but somehow subconsciously, never paying attention to the fact. You have already slept with many partners you were not attracted to and you could easily do it again, Mihawk' strong body and swoon-worthy face change nothing, but... but...

Who knows what kind of lover he is, and he would be with you. Generous, attentive to his partner's pleasure as well as and maybe even before his, or egotistical, the sort of man who doesn't even look at you in the eyes and tries to avoid even kissing you? What is his favourite position? Your guess would be something that allows him to be the dominant part in the rapport, given his forceful personality and no-nonsense attitude, but for so many people the face they show to the world is different from the way they live their intimacy, and maybe when he is with a partner (someone he trusts, someone he can be himself when he is with... why were you suddenly picturing yourself in that role?!) Mihawk likes to surrender control, to relax and let someone else take care of and decide for him. If he is with a woman (again, in the thoughts that had quickly become a full-blown fantasy, not simply any woman) does he like to be ridden, or to push her against a wall and lift her legs around his hips? Does he like to receive oral? Or... or... to give it? Does he grunt, moan, sigh, scream, his partner's name or to express his pleasure, or is he silent just like his normal taciturnity would suggest...? What does his body look like, under the elegant but austere clothes he favours? What does his...?

This, and much more, is what you couldn't help reflecting about at dinner, and then during the little walk you took to return to the inn, and even later, as you killed time with the upkeep of your weapons, those thoughts persisted in your mind, so much that you started fearing you wouldn't be able to fall asleep... or that you would go from thinking to dreaming about him.

Is this due simply to your proposal, and the fact that you did ask him to get you pregnant? After all there already is an emotional, no matter how distant, bond between the two of you, and you're still a sort-of-young woman with a heart and not a stone in her chest. Or were these feelings already part of you, hidden until you had reason to reflect on the fact that this business deal could actually turn out to be much more pleasant, not to mention complicated, than you had thought...?

Whatever the truth may be, the man who is the source, and the cause, of your emotional turmoil is now sitting next to you, on your bed, to further discuss your proposal, and no matter how many times you have risked your life since you were just a girl, no matter the coldbloodedness you have acquired during your years as a mercenary, no matter how many men you have slept with since you were sevevnteen, you are trembling, like a young girl before her first kiss, and suddenly you are not sure what would be better, if he refused your proposal... or if he accepted it.

Because of the baby, and not only that.

You have remained lost in your thoughts for several minutes, which is perhaps deplorable when someone has come to talk to you, but Mihawk seems fine with your silence; actually, he looks as pensive as you feel.

"I thought about your... proposal." he finally says "And I'm willing to accept it, provided you agree with my conditions. I'll give you a baby, or at least I'll do my best trying."

A hundred other men would have accompanied those words with a saucy look; a thousand others would have blushed, or stammered, or betrayed embarrassment due to the delicate, intimate nature of the deal they are accepting. Not Dracule Mihawk; he looks as rational and dispassionate as if he were buying an umbrella during a sudden downpour to discard it as soon as it stops raining, something he needs to do but he is relatively unconcerned about. And once more, you're not completely sure how that makes you feel.

What you know, is the answer he deserves. "Thank you. I... Thank you so much. I am truly and deeply grateful, you don't know how much this matters to me." you say; you are not stammering, but you know he can hear the depth of the emotions filling your heart in your voice: happiness, gratitude, relief, and trepidation. All he can do is try, there is no guarantee he can actually get you pregnant, and the list of failed attempts you have left behind you is as long as your arm, but still, you have a good feeling about it... and even if the two of you failed, you feel suddenly sure you won't consider it a wasted effort "You spoke about conditions. Tell me everything."

Mihawk's first request is to keep his involvement in the conception of your child a secret; in other words, nobody has to know he is the one who got you pregnant, not even the child themself, at least for a while. "Even though I am technically an ally of the World Government now, I have a certain number of enemies in the world, people who could try to hurt me or lure me out through those closest to me. I have no doubt you would do everything you can to protect your child, but I'd feel safer if no one knew. Unless, of course, this would be cause of... embarrassment for you, on your island..."

"It won't be." you assure him; many at home will undoubtedly be curious about the identity of your child's father, but the law says your heir must be a child of your blood, without any particular requirement about the other parent, so that won't make any difference "I promise I'll keep it secret, if you wish. Anything else?"

Mihawk's second request is even simpler: for you to immediately tell him whether you are pregnant or not, as soon as you know for sure. He is a patient man, but since the matter you are discussing about is particularly delicate, he'd rather not be left wondering.

"Of course. It will take about a month, you can probably guess why; should I miss my period, I'll go to my doctor, and then I'll inform you of the results, whatever they are."

"Very well."

Silence falls between the two of you, and you're suddenly aware of the still purely platonic, but somehow compelling intimacy surrounding you: you're alone, for the first time in the many years of your acquaintance, sitting on a bed, discussing about matters that concern you both deeply. Mihawk looks as relaxed and in control as ever, so maybe for him this is simply a favour he is doing you and an investment that could come in handy one day, or maybe not, you think as you search for something, for an emotion of any kind, in his beautiful yellow eyes, and could swear you actually find it, maybe that is simply a facade he is used to present to the world, and in the privacy of his heart, he feels exactly as you do...

"Anything else?"

"Not on my part, no. I'm sure you will be an excellent mother, and I don't need to ask you to take care of them. I... still haven't decided how involved I will be in the child's life, I hope this is not a problem."

It isn't, since you will be happy with whatever he decides to do, as long as he does not object to you raising the child on your island.

"So... shall we?" Mihawk asks; the flash of emotion in his gaze is brief, but you see it (maybe he has let you?) and a smile blossoms on your lips.

"We shall."

You quickly take off your shoes, while Mihawk stands to take his hat and then his coat off, leaving them neatly placed on a chair.

"I forgot to tell you." you begin once more, after more than one silent moment spent staring at his naked back "We don't necessarily have to... to do it the old-fashioned way, if you'd rather not. We could... go to a doctor..."

Mihawk grunts as he bends to unbuckle his boots; again, you find it impossible to avert your gaze. "I will not give a stranger a vial of my seed, as if I were a stud bull." he states "It is barbaric. There is nothing wrong with the natural method."

You silently agree. A moment later, he's back on the bed; he lets you look a him, and he looks back while you unhurriedly take off your dress, exposing the bra and underskirt you wear underneath.

"Very beautiful." Mihawk says, as if he were talking more to himself than to you; you smile.

"You'll make me blush."

"You are an attractive woman, I sincerely doubt I am the first man to pay you a compliment. The other... donors you selected, for example. I'm sure all of them felt exceptionally lucky."

There is no trace of mocking in his voice, let alone of blame; still, those words are enough to make your smile disappear. "They did not matter."

"While I do?"

"You do. You know you do. We have known each other for so many years, and I know we are not... friends, exactly, and I could always close my eyes and think about something else, but you don't know how... how dehumanazing it is to... well, to feel nothing for the other person..."

Mihawk nods. "I know the feeling." he says, and then, in response to your incredulous look: "I have been young as well; and I've made mistakes, like everyone."

"I'm sure you were the only one to think so."

"Hmmm..."

For a whole minute, you are both content looking at each other. Finally, Mihawk's raised hand brushes against your face, and you close your eyes, savouring the warmth of his fingers against your cheek. You take his hand, and let it guide you as you stand, close the brief distance between you, and rest both of yours on his shoulders to stabilize yourself as you sit on his lap, your thighs open to the sides of his clothed legs.

Mihawk's eyes move on your body; you can't stop looking at him either, and so you feel, rather than see, his strong and elegant hands rest on your hips, gently caressing them above the light fabric of your underskirt. You can feel his breath on your chest; he can feel you hold yours when you rest your hand on his cheek and then let it slip down his body, the well-toned physique (he is much less burly than other pirates and fighters you know, but his muscles are solid and defined, as you expected... and even a little more), the pale, smooth skin, except for a thin line of hair on his lower abdomen that your fingers follow down to the waistband of his pants, and that is when you hear him grunt.

"Shall I stop?"

"Do not mock me, woman..." he growls, but he's enjoying your ministrations and doesn't bother to hide it. "Take this off, now."

This is your bra, which you obediently remove; you sigh, kissing his dark hair and temples and any inch of him you can reach, as Mihawk, whose arms have circled your waist and who is now holding you tight against his body, begins licking your chest, the sensation of his lips on your skin sweet and delicious beyond words. Soon, you are moaning his name, gently rocking against the turgescense under you, and you hear him whisper your name before he quickly but gently turns, pushing you on your back on the duvet while he kneels above you.

He sighs, relief evident in his tone, while you relieve him from his pants, lowering the fabric to his knees. He returns the favour lifting the hem of your underskirt, but when you move to take off your panties

"No." he stops you, gently resting his hand on yours "Please, keep them on."

A minute later you are locked in an embrace, your leg lifted around his hips, Mihawk's hand caressing you between your legs, gentle, confident, inexorable, until he feels you are ready for him, and he shifts to press the centre of his body against yours.

You lock eyes; for a brief, precious moment, it is as if the distance between the two of you had melted like snow under the sun, leaving you the two parts of a single, hot and quivering being.

"I don't know if I can actually... do what you want." Mihawk whispers; his hips press against yours with the desperation of a man living his last night, but he sounds regretful, as if saddened by the possibility of disappointing you "I... want to, but..."

Of all the emotions you expected to feel for Dracule Mihawk, tenderness was the last of the list; still, you do, a sudden, powerful surge of empathy that makes you desire this night would never end... and that it weren't your last, as well as your first.

"An attempt." you murmur, before claiming his mouth in a new kiss "That is all I ask."

He gives you three.

*****

You wake early on the following morning (like you expected Mihawk to do as well, since he doesn't seem like the kind of guy who likes to sleep in; on the other hand, you did exhaust him last night...), but you linger a bit before getting up, as you observe the man sound asleep next to you. He is lying on his side towards you, an hand hidden under the pillow, the other reaching out towards you.

He is so handsome - no, he is rapturously beautiful like this, tranquil, at ease, not exactly smiling but serene, as if he were in the middle of a beautiful dream; the azure sheet covers him up to his hips, letting the first sun rays of the day caress the naked skin of his arms and chest.

You feel as if you could spend the whole day like this, just admiring him; but sooner or later he will wake up, and then you could stay in bed for a little more, attempting again or just cuddling, savouring that new intimacy that feels so natural, so genuine and true, even though nothing in your relationship until last night could suggest this could be born from it. But it has, and it is a gift you will keep in your heart forever... as a cherished, now-distant memory; because no matter how desperately you wish you could stay in that little paradise you have created together for a little more, you can't... and, in your heart you know for sure (or you think you do; the truth couldn't be more different, but you haven't learned to read his heart, nor he to express his feelings. Yet.) Mihawk doesn't want to, no matter how enthusiastically he made good on his promise last night. You didn't even know a man could last so long, and hearing him growl your name was enough to push you over the brink...

Still. He has done what he had promised you, and expecting more, expecting other, is naive and even dangerous, because the last thing you need now is to have your heart broken. You know Mihawk respects you and maybe even considers you a sort-of-friend, and not to brag, but you are confident you have given him the best night of his life... but letting that rapport evolve, pursue a relationship, whether romantic or even simply sexual? That's another thing altogether, one you know he won't be interested in.

(Again, you don't, and he would).

You shouldn't even consider thoughts like these. Since when have you thought about Mihawk like that? You are well aware of how attractive he is and are genuinely fond of him, yes, but when did you start wanting more than a casual friendship with him? Probably you don't, not really, it's just that the amazing night you have spent together and all the talking about the baby made your most emotional and romantic side emerge, as if you were still the young girl who thought two people could not experience pleasure, let alone reproduce, without being madly in love with each other. The truth is obviously different, and in a few days, maybe even as early as tomorrow, you will realize how naive and shallow your desires are, born from passion and the hope to see your dream come true. You don't really want him, you just... think you do, because you shared something amazing last night and you know he'd be an excellent father for your child. That's all; and he wouldn't want you in any case. You did what you agreed to, and now you better leave as soon as you can, to avoid the classic, unavoidable embarrassment of the morning after.

This is why when finally Mihawk wakes up, twenty minutes later, he finds you already clothed and ready to go, busy sliding your weapons in their holsters or hiding then under your clothes, your faithful derringer by your side once more.

"Hi." you murmur softly as you sit on the edge of the bed, your hands naturally, instinctively finding the one he has moved towards yours "Are... are you ok?"

"I am. You?"

"Fine. It... it was nice, wasn't it?"

He looks at you, veguely ironic; do you really need to ask?, his lovely yellow eyes seem to ask, and you can't help a small laugh.

"You are leaving, I see." Mihawk adds after a moment, his tone expressionless. He is looking at you as if your clothes were still scattered on the floor, just like he did last night; he sees you blush, and he smirks, but after a moment he turns serious as usual - even a little more sombre, you would swear.

"I am; after all Garp gave me a new assignment yesterday. The first ship for my next destination leaves in half an hour, but you can stay, if you want, I have rented the room until midday."

"There is no need, I have things to do as well."

He gets up, without bothering to hide what you have had time to look at, and to touch and to kiss, as much as you wanted last night, and retrieves his clothes. He has turned his back to you, and you wonder if it is deliberate, because he has already lost any interest he could have in you, because he is already regretting what you did together, or maybe because he is grappling with emotions he doesn't know how to process, and trying to find the words to express them, to ask you...

No. It's impossible. Stop thinking about it and focus on your next assignment. You did everything you could, now you can only pray it worked.

Five minutes, and you're both ready to go; you look at Mihawk as he places Yoru on his back, and you wring your hands, suddenly shier and more unsure than you have ever been in his presence.

"Mihawk?"

He doesn't answer, but he turns, his face slightly tilted on one side in an inquiring manner. He looks so much like a bird when he does that, you think, amused; like a bird of prey... a beautiful, deadly hawk.

"I... I wanted to thank you."

"There is no need..."

"Yes, there is." you quickly interrupt him; you need to tell him, and you need to do it now, otherwise you will lose courage "I... I have been wanting to become a mother for a long time; it's the thing I want the most in the world, and not simply because my island needs an heir for when I'll be dead. It's... it's more important than I could explain, and I've been disappointed so many times and there is nothing I can do but hope and pray, but... call me crazy if you want, but I have a good feeling about this. About you. I... I think we did it, even if it will take time before I know for sure. And I'll be happy to have your child."

Mihawk nods. He is standing right in front of you, close enough he could touch you without even reaching out, but suddenly it is as if you were standing at the opposite points of the Great Line, the unmade bed next to you a suddenly uncomfortable remainder of your nightly activities. "Remember your promise."

"Of course; I will inform you as soon as I have seen the doctor, whatever the result."

"Good."

Pause. "(name)..."

"Yes?" you ask, intimately happy to break that uncomfortable silence, the first in the many years since your first meeting. This is something you have always liked about Mihawk; with him, you never feel the need to talk, but you can feel content with his solitary presence next to you. Still, it has never been so hard to say good-bye... "What is it?"

He hesitates (something you are probably the first to witness, or at least to live to tell) as if unsure about what he wants to say, or about the words to use; he looks at you, and you hold your breath, because for a split second you are sure, you just know, that what he is about to say will change everything, because it is not all in your mind, something has changed, after last night or because that moment of intimacy made you both realize your bond was much deeper than you knew...

"I need to give you my number. To call me."

Disappointment explodes inside you. You feel... mortified, as if you had ended up naked in the middle of the public square; your little infatuation will without a doubt disappear in three days at most, but for now, it hurts as if you had been stabbed. Stupid, romantic girl, an unpleasant voice whispers in your ear; what did you expect? Did you really think he could care about you that way?

"Oh. Oh, right..."

A moment later, a slip of paper with Mihawk's contacts is safe in your pocket, and he is neatly placing his feathered hat on his head.

"It is. Be safe. I mean, I know I don't need to tell you..."

"You don't." he easily recognizes "And I don't need to tell you, but I will; remember that perhaps now you have someone else to think about as well. Good-bye, (name)."

A smile, small but sincere, and a brush of fingers against yours, accompany that greeting a moment before Mihawk leaves, and even though you awoke first and meant to depart before he could notice your absence, you are still there, alone in the sunlit room, suddenly too saddened and wistful to think about the child who might be growing in your womb.

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Can we get something with the Hero of Shadow for the prompt event? Thx!

(A continuation of this writing)

Was that… was someone crying?

Link perked up from his dinner, curious, concerned, and cautious all at once. Oftentimes he would run into people on the road in distress, but it was typically a 50/50 chance that it was a Yiga.

This person, though…

The Yiga were foolish and hardly a threat nowadays, and their antics were pretty easy to see through. Their cries were dramatic, wincing theatrical. This sounded like sobs, like someone having their heart ripped out of them, and sometimes it was muffled as if there was another person there.

This seemed less like a setup and more like something legitimately wrong.

Link grabbed a few weapons and left his camp unattended for the moment, investigating. He moved slowly, laying low - despite how this seemed to be something genuine, he wasn’t going to walk in blind. Besides, there could be beasts around anyway.

The crying grew louder, and he finally found a suitable place to peek around unnoticed. He was behind a hill, and he inched forward on all fours, barely poking his head overtop to see a large figure near the road, swaying back and forth while holding someone. The glow of the blood moon was bright, illuminating the pair, and Link felt his blood freeze.

Crimson reflected off crimson, red hair glowing in the light of the moon the person infected. Dark robes swathed around a figure held in strong, healthy arms, body no longer clothed in rotted flesh and muscle but in rich garments of an ancient past. Jewelry shone brightly, occasionally jingling softly with the gentle rocking. Darkness emanated in cold waves, malice sparkling around him as a gloom spawn loomed nearby.

Ganondorf. Ganondorf.

The demon king himself was here, healthy, strength restored, on the surface and putting everyone in danger.

Link felt fear grip his heart as he ducked down behind the hill once more. He looked frantically at his supplies, realizing that he was woefully underprepared for such a confrontation, but also coming to the conclusion that there was no avoiding it, not with him being here in Hyrule, not when Kakariko Village was a short hike away.

The cries echoed in the night air, and Link grew even more bewildered and anxious, letting the top of his head poke out once more to get a better view.

Squinting, he could make out the figure in the demon king’s arms. It was a young man, younger than Link based on how his voice cracked with some sobs. He couldn’t make much out aside from pale blonde hair and similarly dark robes, as Ganondorf was mostly facing away from the hill.

But then the boy’s eyes opened. Red, like the blood moon, and looking directly at him.

Link felt the blood drain out of his face. The same, creeping, hair raising sensation he’d gotten when he and Zelda had first encountered the demon king was back, making his skin crawl. He braced himself, hand reaching for a weapon, because whether he was ready or not—

The teenager hiccuped, wrapping his arms around the demon king. “Please, let’s leave.”

Ganondorf said something, deep voice rumbling but unintelligible from the distance. The teenager shook his head, seeming to repeat his earlier sentiment. Link ducked under the hill, nervous that he might be noticed in the exchange.

And then the air warmed, and the world was filled with silence.

Hesitantly, the Hero of Hyrule looked overtop the hill to find the area devoid of life. They were gone.

What… who…??

What had just happened?? Ganondorf was at full strength yet his return to Hyrule was as soft as the chirping of the crickets—and there was a teenager—was he a prisoner?? Ally?? The demon king’s child???

This made no sense! But Link could not deny the relief he felt, however brief it was as it mixed with dread, because why would Ganondorf retreat when he was here on the surface with a blood moon at his back?

Link swallowed, filling with resolve. He would stock up on supplies and investigate the Depths in the morning.

XXX

Malice and shadow nearly squeezed the air out of the young shadow warrior’s lungs as he clung to Ganondorf. They both reoriented themselves a moment before the demon king lowered them to the ground, letting Link rest on his lap. Link tried to catch his breath, emotions still a disaster, ill and terrified at how quickly he’d had to come up with a way to protect whoever that random Hylian traveler was.

“Here, let me see your hands,” Ganondorf said, pushing Link away enough to gently grab at his wrists. He flipped the teenager’s palms up, thumbs brushing against them as Link hissed in pain. His skin was blistered angry red from burns, standing out easily against his all-too-pale skin, and he knew his face probably was too.

Ganondorf swiped at his hands again with his thumbs, and Link felt a tingling, warm sensation on them. The pain numbed into nothingness, and he glanced down, confused.

The burns were gone.

“How—you know healing magic?” He whispered, looking up at the man. “Is it the stone?”

Ganondorf smiled a little, brushing hair out of his face to examine a burn on his nose. “Secret stones only amplify one’s power, Link. Of course I know healing magic. You thought I didn’t?”

Link hesitated a moment before just saying what was on his mind, looking down and muttering, “I thought all you knew how to do was destroy.”

“One has to burn the forest to make way for new growth,” Ganondorf replied simply, easily, as if it were just like gardening, as if people’s lives weren’t at stake. “A good king must know how to rebuild as well as how to destroy.”

“You’re just full of idioms, aren’t you?” Link sighed. It was almost funny, having this conversation. Almost.

“Because I’m right,” Ganondorf said firmly.

“Nabooru and Hemisi didn’t seem to think so.”

The demon king stiffened. Link did too. He was waiting for a retaliation, for the dark magic to stick a million needles into his muscles and tie him in invisible, malicious strings and make him move to his master’s delight. Instead, the Gerudo scoffed, “They disapproved of my acquiring a secret stone, yet later Nabooru received one readily from Rauru. She’s as misguided as you are.”

“I’m pretty sure what she disapproved of was your murdering the queen of Hyrule to get said secret stone.”

“Queen Sonia was the rightful ruler of Hyrule by her blood and power,” Ganondorf remarked with a near roll of his eyes. “And yet she let her Zonai husband do everything for her and rule in her stead. She was pathetic and spineless.”

“She was loved and compassionate,” Link argued, hackles raised. He had never been well acquainted with either monarch, but it was a well known fact that Queen Sonia was beloved by her people. He’d seen her kindness firsthand several times.

“She chose to bow down to a stranger who had no right to her land,” Ganondorf fired back, annoyed. “And Rauru, oh what a king he was. A conqueror in his own way, but a weak one. They both chose to be feeble, to slack off on their borders, to grow fat and overconfident in their abundance. Neither was fit to rule.”

“If the people who are so misguided and foolish are weak and deserve to die, then why did you bring me back?” Link asked sharply, but there was a genuine curiosity in there too, a confusion and desperation for a reason to his suffering. He looked him in the eye, demanding a response.

“You’re mine,” Ganondorf answered simply. “And your spirit is stronger than any other. Nabooru and Hemisi are the same. You all will understand, when it’s over.”

The words were… somewhat expected, but not. The assurance that Link would someday understand was not a new one - it had hung over the tension between them, a silent promise from Ganondorf that was akin to a threat. But the rest…

Link didn’t like it. But he did. But he hated it. But he wanted to hear it.

He didn’t appreciate being claimed in that manner, especially given that Ganondorf very much treated him like a slave sometimes. But it could be endearing too, a claim to being his family, a promise of belonging.

Link hated that he loved it so much. He hadn’t had a family most of his life, and when he’d met Hemisi and her parents…

He wished things could be as they were. He wished it so desperately. But they couldn’t. They all had ensured that through their actions. Today more so than ever. But he couldn’t go home to Hemisi, either, clearly, no matter how utterly empty he felt.

The Depths were suffocating him. He felt his skin crawl, his heart racing, he felt like he was about to burst out of his chest.

“I want to go outside again,” he said softly, frankly pathetically, but he didn’t care how weak he sounded. He was done. He was so done.

Ganondorf’s expression, initially fairly neutral, grew somewhat exasperated. “We just got back. You said you were tired.”

I only did that because there was a traveler. I didn’t want you to hurt him. “But talking to you woke me up. I want… I just want some fresh air. Please.”

It was foolish to argue with the man. Link had learned early on that fighting Ganondorf like this wouldn’t get him anywhere. But, for whatever reason, the man didn’t immediately snap or take control of him. Instead, Ganondorf watched him a moment, cheeks flushing a little in frustration, before he took a calming breath and rose, holding out a hand. “All right. But we only have a few hours left of the blood moon, understood? We cannot stay beyond that. Come on.”

Link stared, surprised and dumbfounded, head too foggy to really comprehend that he had actually won an argument. He automatically reached out his hand to take the Gerudo king’s, and he let Ganondorf pull him close as gloom surrounded them and sent them upward.

The first sensation Link felt after being squeezed in cold darkness, was moisture. The air was heavy with it, and his ears were filled with the sound of curtains of rain crashing down from the sky. The cool damp of the Depths was replaced by a warm blanket of humidity slowly being washed away by cool rain. Ganondorf immediately shivered, shaking his head of the water that had already soaked his hair, and dragged Link under a tree. Thunder rumbled in the distance, a lullaby to accompany the nighttime white noise all around them.

Link glanced around, unable to see far due to the walls of white spreading foamy sparkles that hid the world around them. To his best ability, though, he couldn’t detect any people nearby, and he thanked the goddess for that. Then he slowly peeled himself out of Ganondorf’s embrace, stepping out into the open and letting the rain come crashing down on him. The sensation was immediately invigorating and grounding, silencing his mind from the screaming and begging for an end that had been playing nonstop since he’d found Hemisi’s urn. He didn’t think about anything because he couldn’t, his soul filled with the sound of rain, his emotions pouring out as the water carried them away.

“Link, you’ll catch a cold,” Ganondorf called from under the tree, huddled into himself like some feral cat avoiding one of the fountains in the capital.

“I like the rain,” he said quietly, not particularly concerned if he was heard.

Goddess it felt so freeing to be out here, to not be confined by stone and malice, to taste and see and feel and hear the earth around him. He missed this.

The rain brought new life to Hyrule, providing the most precious resource to everything in it. Link licked his lips, tasting the blessed gift, smiling for the first time since he’d been dragged back to mortality. He let it thoroughly soak him to the bone, drenched in the tears of the sky, the magic of the goddesses, the gift of Farore.

Thank you, he prayed. Thank you for giving me this.

It gave him hope. If Ganondorf could let him do this, if he could save that one traveler earlier, if he could actually speak to the man instead of bow down to his every wish…

Link hiccuped, his tears lost in the trails of rainwater cascading down his face. His quiet sobs were lost in the deafening sound of the sky crashing down.

Somehow, Ganondorf heard it. Or sensed it. He wasn’t sure. But the man called to him again, far more gently than before, and he slowly made his way back to him.

“You’re soaking wet,” the Gerudo fussed, pulling off his outer robe and wrapping Link in it. It was warm, so warm, and Link melted, letting Ganondorf settle him on his lap, knowing for a fact that after what he’d done earlier he wasn’t going to be let out of the man’s arm reach let alone out of his sight.

But just in this moment, he didn’t mind. He let himself be held, he let himself relax, he smiled and smiled and giggled and would have outright laughed if he had energy for it.

How had such a horrible day ended with such a note of hope? He didn’t know. But he took it as a sign. Hemisi had always loved the rain too.

Thank you.

“We’ll heal Hyrule, right?” He asked softly, eyes closed, consciousness slowly fading away.

Ganondorf paused from his ministrations, and then chuckled a little, lifting the robe so it was over Link’s head and rubbing his hair dry carefully. “We’ll reshape Hyrule, my boy. And it will be perfect when I am done.”

It wouldn’t be. And he wouldn’t reshape anything. Link would ensure that. He had in the past, and he would now. He’d promised himself that. The rain grew heavier, a breeze blowing a spritz of moisture, a wet kiss from the goddesses themselves as Ganondorf hissed a little and held Link more tightly to shield him from the water.

“Yeah,” Link sighed breathily, finally slipping into sleep with hope glowing in his heart, with resolve returning that rivaled a lynel in strength, with enough trust in the goddesses to be his own secret stone. He was still exhausted, he had no energy left to do anything. But he knew… at some point, it would come back. At some point he would get better. And he had a chance. Hyrule had a chance. He’d saved that stranger, even now, even at his lowest point. He could see the world again, could smell the cherry blossoms from home, could hear the rain and smell the sweet aroma of the world coming alive. “It will be.”

[princessfbi]

“What was that noise?” + polyfire

You should know in true us fashion I had a smutty idea and a whumpy idea for this one. Today smutty wins.

“What was that noise?”

Heat burned into Buck’s cheeks as he stared up at them. The humiliation started slow, spreading down his throat into his chest and up to the top of his head as he clamped his teeth down onto his lip. His body was slick with sweat and spit and blazing from the inside out but Tommy and Eddie were staring down at him like he was a wonder.

Their twinned stunned expressions morphed through a kaleidoscope of emotions and Buck could only hold his breath and wait. Wait for them to decide if they would spare him some dignity and pretend they hadn’t heard it. Or—

Tommy pinned down Buck’s wrists and Buck keened beneath the pressure. His back bowed off the bed as the inferno inside his veins surged and Buck keened. A mewling, pathetic sound that was the definition of desperate and not at all sexy but god he couldn’t help it.

Tommy eased his grip but didn’t let go. He got it first because of course he did. They’d been dating long enough to know each other’s in and outs but they hadn’t had a chance to explore… this. Not before they realized that every night they spent with Eddie just added more fuel for their desire to have him too. Even then, Tommy had always been gentle. A tender, world shattering mind blowing gentleness that made Buck nearly sob with how cared for he felt. No one had ever held him the way Tommy did. Like he was something to be cared for. Like he was something that could shatter and that was the last thing in the world Tommy wanted. Like he was to be treasured and loved.

It was a gentleness that swept into their new dynamic with Eddie. It started as carefulness, a considerate but curious hand that traveled along Buck’s body as Eddie explored. There had been a wonder too. Like Eddie didn’t think he’d ever get the chance to run his fingertips along Buck’s ribcage, taste his lips, feel the way Buck unraveled beneath his attention. Gentleness was at the very heart of Eddie’s nature and Buck didn’t know how he’d been so lucky to somehow be wanted by the two most gentle people in all the world.

Most days he felt unworthy of them. Those same days, however, they spent hours trying to change his mind.

“Oh,” Tommy said, his brow furrowed in concentration and Buck tried hide his face in his bicep before he imploded with embarrassment. Tommy squeezed his wrists again and Buck squeaked as he blinked up at them. “There it is.”

Eddie looked back down at him with an almost frown marring his expression before his eyes drifted to Tommy’s hands and then Tommy.

When he looked back down at Buck again, his eyes were smoldering.

“You like that?” Eddie asked, so very much the opposite of gentle hands grabbing onto his hips and forcing his legs even wider.

Buck stuttered out as gasp as he slid across the mattress, a pressure building in his shoulders as Tommy kept him pinned in place by his hands. The barest hint of Eddie’s nails scraped up the soft parts of his thighs and Buck trembled all over as he tried to close his legs. But Eddie was fitted in between them, holding them open and leaving Buck exposed.

“Is there something you’ve been wanting to ask us for, sweetheart?” Eddie asked, his voice dark and teasing as those nails dragged up his stomach and chest before sliding up to his throat.

He didn’t squeeze. But the weight was there. A promise.

Buck shivered.

“You want us to be a little mean to you?” Tommy asked.

Yes. Yes yes yesyesyesyes!

Buck didn’t know how much he wanted that until that very moment but he wanted. He wanted it so badly he thought he would die without it.

It wasn’t his first time being adventurous in the bed. But it was the first time it was with two partners that could throw him around like he weighed nothing at all. Buck wanted it. Wanted to be like a rag doll between the two people who made him feel nothing but safe for his every breath.

Tommy yanked Buck’s hands further above his head as Eddie dragged his nails over the pebbling nubs of his nipples. White hot pain laced with the burning pleasure churning deep in his belly. It stole his vision away as Buck squirmed. He whined high and thin as he tried to get some more.

“Use your words, baby boy.”

That. That wasn’t something Buck knew would alight the already burning inferno inside him.

“Oh,” Eddie practically purred as he swept his thumb over Buck’s lips. “He liked that one.”

The heat in Buck’s face soared down his throat into his chest as he squeezed his eyes shut. Sparked dashed across his eyelids as he tried to will the racing of his heart down but it was no use. Not when the gentle fingertips from before were slowly but surely turning deliciously bruising.

“P-Please…” He breathed.

“Listen how pretty he begs.” Eddie praised and it washed through Buck like a wave that stole all the air from his lungs.

“I bet we could find some more noises,” Tommy said, his smile wicked and beautiful.

“If we work together,” Eddie said and Buck only barely opened his eyes to see Eddie surge forward to capture Tommy’s lips with his own.

[loucifersbitch]

yay for the follower milestone! For the prompt, can I suggest buddietommy and sleep deprived?

*looks at prompt* yeah, no way i'll be able to only write 11 sentences for this sldkfjslkfjskl

Eddie gets home first, dog-tired after a harrowing shift. They went their entire 24 hours without so much as a 5 minute break between calls. Willing himself to remain conscious, he drops his bag in the bedroom, stripping out of the clothes he'd hastily thrown on before leaving the station. The bed is damn near calling to him, but he knows he smells after the shift he just went through. He makes sure everything gets into the hamper (because otherwise someone will have something to say about it) before heading to the bathroom and starting the shower.

Stepping across the stone floor and under the rain shower head, he moans. The water pressure is heavenly, and for a few minutes he stands still under the spray, water running down his back, his sore muscles soaking in the heat. His eyelids droop with the exhaustion, but he forces them to stay open.

He barely registers the sound of the bathroom door opening, the smell of eggs and bacon and sausage permeating the air before the latch clicks again. Stuck in an almost trance-like state, he wishes he could sleep standing up. Or that the strength to lift his arms to wash his hair would hit him sometime soon.

Large, sure hands wrap around his hips from behind, and he immediately melts into it.

"Hey," Tommy says, his voice low as he kisses Eddie's shoulder. "Rough shift?"

"Mhm," he hums, nodding.

"Yeah, Evan said you guys didn't get a break."

Eddie hums in agreement again. "Where is he, by the way? I thought he was right behind me when I left the station."

"You know him, gotta make sure we eat before passing out for the next twelve hours. He'll be along soon."

Like they summoned him, the bathroom door opens and closes again, Buck joining them almost as soon as he'd entered the room. He plasters himself to Eddie's front, arms reaching around them until he's grabbing Tommy's shoulders.

"Jesus, Buck, why are you so cold?" Eddie asks, looping his arms around Buck's middle.

"'m not cold," Buck grumbles, burying his - very cold - face in Eddie's neck. "You jus' have the water temperature too high."

"Or he spent 10 minutes out in the freezing rain trying to catch Mrs. Petersen's dog for her again," Tommy murmurs.

"Hey, Greg is fast, and she's 74! I was helping. It's called being a good neighbor, Thomas."

"Mhm, and how exactly did you plan to catch him with your bare hands in the pouring rain?"

Eddie snickers at the mental image that springs to mind.

"I was being chivalrous," Buck grumbles again.

"Good thing it's your turn to do laundry," Tommy continues. "I wouldn't want to be the one to get those mud stains out of your jeans and shirt."

"Yeah, yeah. Shut up and get clean. We're wasting water," Buck says, staying exactly where he is and making it impossible to clean anything.

"Okay," Tommy says with finality, "Eddie first. Evan go sit on the bench."

Eddie can feel Buck beginning to pout where his mouth is buried against his clavicle.

"But I -"

"Now, Evan."

Buck huffs, but listens, sitting on the large wooden bench at the back of the shower.

Tommy begins washing Eddie's hair, and Eddie can't hold back the whimpers and gasps as gentle fingers massage his scalp. Tommy isn't trying to make it sensual, but Eddie is affected nonetheless. He can't help it when one of his partners' hands are in his hair.

Tommy moves methodically - meticulously - like with everything else he does. He has this particular way of caring for Eddie and Buck that makes them feel spoiled and cherished all at once.

When Tommy's done with him, Eddie and Buck trade places, and Eddie watches Tommy give Buck the same caring treatment he'd just received. There's a soft smile on Tommy's face as he works. This is just as much for him as it is for them.

Eddie and Buck both try to wash Tommy's hair for him, but he waves them off. They do manage to talk their way into washing the rest of him. Very meticulously.

The three fluffy towels on the counter hadn't been there when Eddie stepped in the shower, but Tommy always thinks of everything. They towel off, throw on the bare minimum of clothing, and quickly eat the breakfast sandwiches Buck had prepared.

They finally fall into bed, an unidentifiable mass of limbs and muscles, their bodies beyond exhaustion, their soft words turn into quiet snores almost immediately.

[doc42]

"It is more than a story."

Daenerys Targaryen and Jon Snow in GRRM's very first novel Dying of the Light.

"In the holdfasts of the Ironjade Gathering, for example, boys were taught that the universe has only thirty stars, and High Kavalaan is its center. Mankind originated there, when Kay Iron-Smith and his teyn Roland Wolf-Jade were born of a mating between a volcano and a thunderstorm. They walked steaming from the lips of the volcano into a world full of demons and monsters, and for many years they wandered far and near, having various adventures. At last they came across a deep cave beneath a mountain, and inside they found a dozen women, the first women in the world. The women were afraid of the demons and would not come out. So Kay and Roland stayed, seizing the women roughly and making them eyn-kethi. The cave became their holdfast, the women birthed them many sons, and thus began Kavalar civilization."

"Most Kavalars think of the banshee only as a plague and a menace," Jaan Vikary explained. "In its natural habitat it is a frequent man-killer, and the hunters of Braith and Redsteel and the Shanagate Holding think of banshee as the ultimate game, with a single exception. Ironjade has always been different. There is an ancient myth, of the time Kay Iron-Smith and his teyn Roland Wolf-Jade were fighting alone against an army of demons in the Lameraan Hills. Kay had fallen, and Roland, standing over him, was weakening by the moment, when from over the hills the banshees came, many of them flying together, black and thick enough to block out the sun. They fell hungrily onto the demon army and consumed them, one and all, leaving Kay and Roland alive. Later, when that teyn-and-teyn found their cave of women and established the first Ironjade holdfast, the banshee became their brother-beast and sigil. No Ironjade has ever killed a banshee, and legend says that whenever a man of Ironjade is in danger of his life, a banshee will appear to guide and protect him." "A pretty story," Dirk said. "It is more than a story," Janacek said. "There is a bond between Ironjade and banshee, t'Larien. Perhaps it is psionic, perhaps the things are sentient, perhaps it is all instinct. I do not pretend to know. Yet the bond exists." "Superstition," Gwen said. "You really must not think too badly of Garse. It's not his fault that he never got much of an education."

And the dragonlore.

We shall not pretend to any understanding of the bond between dragon and dragonrider; wiser heads have pondered that mystery for centuries. We do know, however, that dragons are not horses, to be ridden by any man who throws a saddle on their back.

Who can know the heart of a dragon? Was it simple bloodlust that drove the Blue Queen to attack? Did the she-dragon come to help one of the combatants? If so, which? Some will claim that the bond between a dragon and dragonrider runs so deep that the beast shares his master’s loves and hates. But who was the ally here, and who the enemy? Does a riderless dragon know friend from foe?

These were the likely events, Vikary argued, self-evident truths that produced modern Kavalar society. Jamis-Lion Taal, wandering the face of the world many generations later, had been so much a child of his culture that he was unable to conceive of a world in which women held any status other than what he saw; and when he was forced to think otherwise by the folklore he collected, he thought the idea intolerably wicked. Thus he rewrote all the oral literature as he cast his Demonsong cycle. He transformed Kay Iron-Smith into a thundering giant of a man, made the Sorrowing Plague a ballad of eyn-kethi wickedness, and generally created the Impression that the world had always been the way he found it. Later poets built on the foundations he had laid.

On Braavos, it had seemed possible that Aemon might recover. Xhondo's talk of dragons had almost seemed to restore the old man to himself. That night he ate every bite Sam put before him. "No one ever looked for a girl," he said. "It was a prince that was promised, not a princess. Rhaegar, I thought . . . the smoke was from the fire that devoured Summerhall on the day of his birth, the salt from the tears shed for those who died. He shared my belief when he was young, but later he became persuaded that it was his own son who fulfilled the prophecy, for a comet had been seen above King's Landing on the night Aegon was conceived, and Rhaegar was certain the bleeding star had to be a comet. What fools we were, who thought ourselves so wise! The error crept in from the translation. Dragons are neither male nor female, Barth saw the truth of that, but now one and now the other, as changeable as flame. The language misled us all for a thousand years. Daenerys is the one, born amidst salt and smoke. The dragons prove it." Just talking of her seemed to make him stronger. "I must go to her. I must. Would that I was even ten years younger."

[tyrantisterror]

Why are Bulma and Piccolo your favorite Dragon Ball characters?

It might sound weird, but I love Bulma because of her very glaring flaws. She is loud, short-tempered, vain, self-centered, arrogant, too-clever by half, and extremely bossy, all of which are traits that are generally given to villainous women so that we hate them. But Bulma's not a villain - she's a hero, and for all her faults, she's also incredibly smart, resourceful, and resilient. Bulma never says die, never gives up, always tries to come up with a solution to whatever shit gets thrown her way, and goddamn, she manages to pull something together more often than not! In fact, most of her virtues are connected to her flaws - that arrogance pushes her to defy the odds and succeed, her tendency to overshoot when showing off her smarts will lead to situations where she can apply those smarts under pressure to more spectacular results, and you know what, she is really fucking pretty, so why shouldn't she be proud of it? Like, I've said before on a few occasions that I love it when a hero has villain coding, and Bulma has all the same villain coding as Jessie from Team Rocket - but she's a hero, she's unambiguously a hero, and a hero we need more often than not, and that's so damn cool. I love that she gets to be this loud, bossy, arrogant, vain person who's nonetheless a good friend and incredibly reliable and resourceful ally, that for all her abundant faults she's still a lovable and iconic hero. Girl characters don't get to be those things often enough! We need more Bulmas in the world.

My love for Piccolo is a bit simpler/more obvious. One, he's got a kickass character design - he and Aku from Samurai Jack cemented my love of costumes with big fucking shoulder pads/pauldrons. Two, as a person who had never seen Dragon Ball and found out about the series when they aired Dragon Ball Z on Toonami back in the 90's, Piccolo was the weirdest thing that first episode threw at me, and it threw a LOT of weird shit at me in that episode. Talking turtles, cats, and pigs, a lady with blue hair, a guy whose kid has a monkey tail, aliens, all sorts of shit. But then there's this big green guy who everyone is terrified of for reasons the episode doesn't really explain (because there's a whole series you're supposed to have watched before it) who asks the father of the monkey tail boy to team up with him against the monkey tail alien, and the green guy has these weird pink ridges on his arms and the coolest fucking outfit I had seen at that point in my life, and when he takes off his weird purple ball hat thing it turns out he has antenna under it, and his teeth are sharp like a vampire, and he blows a hole through the dad guy's chest, like holy shit what an icon, I loved him immediately.

And then Piccolo proceeds to train the monkey-tail kid, claiming he's going to use him to take over the world, but as the show goes on it's clear that Piccolo is not as evil as he claims to be, and clearly cares for this kid despite claiming to only be using him as a tool, all leading up to the big battle with Nappa where Piccolo, that ruthless green slug vampire motherfucker, takes the killing blow to save the kid he stole. Blew my goddamn mind. There were almost no other characters in the media I had consumed as a child up till that point who matched Piccolo's moral complexity- about the only ones I can think of that compare are Dinobot from Beast Wars and Hexadecimal from Reboot, and, well, I'm also obsessed with those two, so here we are.

Piccolo had a great character arc and defined so much of what made Dragon Ball Z instantly special and unique in my eyes as a kid. There was no one like him, no one who did what he did, no one who looked as cool as he did. What a fucking legend.

[whatcoloristhatcat]

hi! here i have two different beasts because my friends have a hard time telling the different between the two in terms of fur color. i can tell the difference pretty well but im curious, are they the same color or not?

first up is leo! who unfortunately is no longer with us (passed almost a year ago now). my sweet orange boy who loved to eat plants and would smack razors out of my hand whenever i shaved my legs (trans ally)

and here’s macintosh! (or mac for short) EVIL orange who’s resting face is a thousand yard haunted gaze and also beats people up and bites their ankles unless they give him people food (scoundrel and criminal). he’s not my cat, belongs to my aunt

i hope these pictures have sufficient lighting, if not i can give different ones

leo is a red mackerel tabby with low white spotting and mac is a red classic tabby with low white spotting :)))