#but its going to be resolved right.. right!?

[worrywrite]

This set something off in my brain and I need to explain it.

On the one hand, yes. Mario wins. A simpler character is a stronger character. If you put any character from the left into a Mario world, Mario wins because he is a more flexible character that can do whatever he needs to to complete game objectives; his worlds are scaled to his power and so he is always able to and allowed to win (its kind of the rule of Mario that Mario gets to be a Mary Sue). Put Mario into any other setting, and he still gets to win. He still gets to be a Mary Sue. That's basically his power (or his theme really, since it's part of the genre), he is always capable of winning and so he can and inevitably will.

On the other hand, this is exactly why it's not a good comparison to make. Mario is literally a placeholder, he's simple by design, he isn't meant to be anything other than a ball the player controls (much the same as Kirby). The characters on the left exist to have stories and conflicts, many of which they are destined to lose. I'm going to pick out Jotaro here because I think he's a good example of why the comparison sucks. Jotaro is also a Mary Sue. He wins when he fights, mostly because that's what the story was, but also because he's smart and because he gets to cheat with his abilities. However, as the writer for JoJo improved and began to make the stories more complex Jotaro loses his Mary Sue status. By Diamond is Unbreakable, Jotaro can and does lose otherwise very basic fights. Despite the fact that he can stop time and punch things at the speed of sound (without having to stop time first) and think like a supercomputer, he still nearly loses to a rat (an actual rat) with a sniper rifle. He loses again to the lesser ability of that season's villain. In Stone Ocean he loses even more, right up front and also severely at the end. JoJo's is a series where winning a fight doesn't really matter, fights get resolved without a victor about as often as they do and avoiding fights when possible is supremely important. And while the series is fighting focused, it's also heavily focused on personal growth and interpersonal drama (granted it isn't that deep for most plot lines). The point of any of these characters isn't winning a fight, except for Mario who exists to be the thing players control to win the game.

This is why I kind of hate death battle and "who would win" hypotheticals. If you put Mario and Jotaro in a room together, they wouldn't do anything. They'd stare at each other in silence until Mario leaves because he's uncomfortable with being glared at and he wants to eat lunch.

And it doesn't matter if you did the same thing for any mixture of protagonist and antagonist. It's not about power level, it's about genre. And I hate that that isn't the first thing people think about.

Now if you were comparing abilities directly irrespective of character, I think that would be interesting.

[gayerthanevertbh]

does it satisfy you?

summary: it was never meant to last.

warnings: mentions of sex, angst, and no happy ending. basically just a very short one-shot

notes: i'm trying to get back hehe, i hope you like this one :)

Does It Satisfy You?

Natasha took a drag from her cigarette, her exhale curling like whispers into the dim-lit room. Smoke hung in the air, soft and aching, as her fingers grazed your hand—a fleeting warmth that left your skin yearning. Her gaze wandered to the window, where the night stretched endless, stars distant and detached.

She turned to you, brows knit like a question she wasn’t ready to ask. “What do you mean?” she murmured, her voice a thread pulled taut.

You hesitated, the words trembling on your lips. “Every time we…” The sentence unraveled in the air, leaving a space too heavy to fill. “You know, have sex.”

Her laugh was a soft exhale, bittersweet and knowing. “You’re more than a mistress to me.”

“Really?”

Her eyes found yours, deep and searching, and her hand rose to your cheek. Her touch lingered like an unspoken promise. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t adore you.”

The silence that followed wasn’t empty; it was crowded with your questions, all clawing for a voice. Is this real? Is she mine? Yet your mouth remained sealed, a coward’s prison. You feared the truth—that you were a flicker in her life while she burned brightly elsewhere. That you had no claim on her, no right to feel neglected.

And yet… somewhere in the dark corners of her heart, did she ache for you too?

“I have class later,” you said, breaking the silence in the air.

“Don’t skip,” she replied, her cigarette smoldering in the ashtray, its final embers fading. “You’ve been skipping too much.”

“I want to be with you.”

A smile ghosted her lips. “You are with me.”

But she didn’t see—couldn’t feel—the depth of what you meant. You shook your head, the weight of your longing pressing like an iron on your chest.

“Nat, I want to be with you completely. Every day. Every hour. Every moment.”

You turned from her touch, retreating into the view of the endless, indifferent night. And as the sky deepened in its darkness, you wondered if your yearning would ever find a home—or if it was destined to remain adrift, untethered, and alone.

Under the soft glow of moonlight, she cupped your face with a tenderness that belied her usual fierceness. Her lips brushed your forehead, and her nose nuzzled against yours like a fleeting promise of something more. “What’s going on in that pretty head of yours, hm?” she murmured, her voice as soft as a lullaby.

You wished she could be like this every day—gentle, unguarded—but the reality you shared was tangled and fragile, a fantasy slipping through your fingers. “What are you thinking?” she asked again, her tone a plea rather than a question.

The words burned on your tongue. Should you tell her? Should you push her away? Hatred was impossible—how could you hate the one who had given you everything you'd longed for? At first, it was only the fire of her touch, but now, it was more. So much more.

With an ache in your voice, you kissed the inside of her palm and whispered, “You have to go back to your wife, Natasha.”

Her brow furrowed in defiance, the sharp edge of her determination softening as she protested, “I don’t understand—”

“Please,” you interrupted, your hands trembling as you placed hers on her lap. You avoided her gaze, unable to bear the hurt you knew you’d find there. “You know I’m right.”

Natasha Romanoff—the woman who commanded attention, who ruled with a presence so unyielding it could bend steel—became someone else entirely with you. In your arms, her dominance melted into vulnerability, her armor discarded at your feet.

When you finally dared to look, her eyes were wounded, brimming with unsaid words. “I want to say it,” she whispered, her voice cracking.

You shook your head, your resolve faltering. “You can’t.”

“I love you,” she said, the confession spilling from her lips like a prayer.

“Do you?” 

“Yes,” she whined, her arms wrapping around your bare waist. She pulled you closer, her body pressing against yours as if she could fuse the pieces of you both into one. Her lips found your neck, her voice trembling as she whimpered, “I love you, darling.”

The words hung in the air, heavy with truth and impossibility. You knew this couldn’t last. But for a moment, you let yourself be held, feeling the weight of a love that was as intoxicating as it was doomed.

"Go back to your wife," you whispered, voice low and trembling, the weight of your words filling the room. With a gentle push, you placed the distance between you, though your trembling hand lingered, as if reluctant to let go of the warmth it knew so well.

You refused to meet her eyes, unable to bear the pain etched in their depths, a silent plea you dared not answer.

"This will be our last time," you murmured, the syllables breaking like fragile glass in the space between you, each one a shard that cut deeper than the last.

The air grew heavy, the unspoken emotions pressing down like a storm, until finally, she turned, and the void she left behind felt infinite.

END.

[playboysaleen]

Through Ash and Iron (4)

Jinx x Reader x Caitlyn

Summary: Through Ash and Iron plunges you into the heart of Piltover’s gritty streets, where you’ve always felt the weight of your family’s failures. Rejected from the Junior Enforcer Program, your anger burns brighter than ever—until one fateful punch changes everything. The eyes of Piltover’s elite may look down on you, but it’s the wild eyes of Jinx that truly see you. She’s chaos personified, and you’re drawn to the destruction she promises. But that’s not all. Caitlyn Kiramman, a poised enforcer with a soft spot for rebels like you, offers you a chance to rewrite your future—if you can control the rage you can’t seem to escape.Torn between the order Caitlyn represents and the dangerous freedom Jinx offers, you stand at the crossroads of two worlds. As your power grows, so does the tension between these two women. One promises a chance at belonging, while the other ignites a fire you didn’t know you had. But the choices you make will change everything—not just for you, but for both cities teetering on the edge of war. Who will you choose? And how much of yourself will you lose along the way?

Warnings: Violence duh, gay panic(lol), cursing, all that jazz (whatever you seen in Arcane is what you gon see here)This is also a slight AU.(She/her)

Word Count: 4.4k

A/n: Yall are going to HATE me but-

___________________________

The bar on the outskirts of the undercity is a rundown, dimly lit place, its flickering neon signs barely cutting through the darkness. You slouch in a corner booth, a glass of whiskey in your hand, swirling the amber liquid as you try to drown the noise in your mind. It’s not working, but you’re trying. Each gulp, each burn, you hope it’ll make the ache inside you go away, even just for a moment.

You drink until the room blurs, but it doesn’t change anything. Nothing can change the emptiness. Nothing can take away the weight of betrayal that you’ve been carrying. Caitlyn’s face flashes in your mind, sharp and unyielding. She was right. She was always right, and you were wrong. You can’t even figure out who you are anymore.

Then, from the corner of your eye, you catch a familiar silhouette, a shape you know too well.

Lest slides into the seat beside you like she owns it, her presence undeniable. She’s sharp, sly, with an elegance that betrays her dangerous side. Her raven-black hair is tied back loosely, a few stray strands framing her face, revealing the thin scars that run along her jaw, a reminder of her past battles. Her eyes are calculating, fox-like, with a sharp glint as she watches you with a knowing smile. The way she moves is liquid, smooth, and predatory, like she’s always two steps ahead. She wears dark leather, adorned with subtle details—a vest, gloves, a belt full of tools—and it all just seems to fit her perfectly, as if she was crafted for this life.

“Rough night?” Her voice is soft, but there’s an edge to it, as if she’s already figured you out. She leans in just a bit too close, the warmth of her body seeping into your space. Her fingers brush against your shoulders, her touch light but somehow full of intent.

You can’t muster the energy to shove her away. Instead, you take a long sip from your glass, letting the alcohol numb your senses. “You could say that.”

Lest grins, her eyes tracing you like she’s reading the pages of a book. “I’m sure you’ve got a lot to say, but I don’t think you want to talk about it. That’s why you’re here, after all.”

You don’t answer, your gaze fixed on the table in front of you. There’s something about the way she speaks that makes you want to listen, even if you don’t want to hear what she’s saying.

“I can help you,” she says softly, a teasing smile playing on her lips. “You just have to ask.”

You scoff, but her words still stick to you, gnawing at the edges of your resolve. It’s been a long time since someone offered to help you without asking for something in return.

She senses the shift, the crack in your armor. “You need something. I can see it in your eyes. And I can give you what you’re looking for.” Her voice is almost a whisper now, seductive, coaxing.

Your heart is pounding, but you’re unsure if it’s from the alcohol or the way she’s reading you so easily. She places a hand on your leg, close to your knee, her fingers lightly brushing against your skin, sending an electric pulse through your body. “Just say the word.”

Then the voices start. Jinx’s voice—familiar, filled with that chaotic edge—pierces through the fog in your mind.

“Don’t listen to her,” Jinx warns, though it’s almost a whisper. “You don’t need this. It’s not worth it.”

Then Caitlyn’s voice joins in, sharper, colder. “You’ll never be enough.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to block them out, but they persist, a clashing storm in your head.

Lest notices your discomfort, and her smirk only widens, sensing the conflict within you. “You’ve got a war going on in that pretty head of yours, don’t you? Too many voices, too many decisions. I can help with that too, you know.”

You try to focus, to push her away, but the voices keep cutting in, making your chest tight. You’re torn between the temptation to listen to Lest and the fear of what it might mean for you.

Then she pulls out a small brush, the tip glowing faintly with shimmer, and holds it up between you. “You could use something to calm those voices down. Just a little… release. It’ll make everything easier.”

Your stomach twists, a familiar, dark pull tempting you to take it. But then Jinx’s voice rises again.

“Don’t you dare.”

And Caitlyn’s voice cuts through, “You’ll never be enough. You’ll just make it worse.”

You slam your glass down on the table with a sharp crack, your head pounding. “No,” you say, your voice hoarse, a little too loud in the quiet bar. “I’m not doing that.”

Lest watches you for a long moment, her eyes cold and calculating, then slides the shimmer brush back into her coat. “Your loss.”

You stumble to your feet, disoriented by the alcohol and the flood of voices. You push through the door and step out into the cool night, feeling the weight of Lest’s gaze on your back.

But just as you turn the corner, you’re met by a familiar face, one that you didn’t expect to see tonight.

Jinx.

Her eyes are wide, scanning over you, her face a mix of confusion and concern. The moment she spots you, she storms forward, her voice rising. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Nothing,” you mutter, trying to stumble away, but she grabs your arm with surprising strength. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine,” Jinx snaps, her voice rising with frustration. “You’ve been out here getting shitfaced and talking to her?”

Lest, still lingering in the shadows, watches with amusement, but doesn’t make a move.

Jinx drags you back toward her lair, her grip tight but not unkind, as she leads you up to the rooftop. She slams you down onto a crate, spinning to face you with that fire in her eyes. “You were going to… with her?” she demands, her voice tight with anger.

“No,” you protest weakly, shaking your head. “I didn’t… I didn’t want that.”

Jinx glares at you, her eyes narrowing. “Then what the hell were you doing?”

“I don’t know,” you mutter, feeling the alcohol dragging you down. “I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. I can’t… I can’t think straight.”

Jinx’s expression softens for a moment, but then she snaps. “Get it together. You can’t just—”

You lash out, your voice sharp and filled with pain. “I don’t know who I am anymore! I don’t know what I’m supposed to be!”

She freezes, her anger faltering. “What are you talking about?”

You shake your head, blinking back the tears that are threatening to fall. “I’m not enough for anyone, Jinx. Not for you, not for Cai— not for anyone.”

For a long time, she just stands there, silent, watching you with an unreadable look in her eyes.

“Stop,” she finally says, her voice barely a whisper. “You’re not alone, okay?”

You don’t say anything back. Instead, you curl up against the wall, wrapping your arms around your knees. You feel like you’re suffocating, and yet the distance between you and Jinx feels insurmountable.

Finally, she turns and walks back inside, leaving you alone in the cold night, the voices still swirling in your mind, battling with each other.

⋆.��⟡ ࣪ ˖

Inside, Jinx stands in the dark, her mind racing. The voices speak again, louder than before, but she doesn’t listen.

That small voice, the one that had always been there but never fully heard, finally rises above the chaos.

She’s the one. The one you need. The one you’ve always needed.

Jinx sat in her lair, pacing back and forth, her mind a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts. The voices in her head grew louder with each passing second, each one demanding her attention, but there was that one small voice that she couldn’t ignore. It had been quiet for so long, but tonight, it felt insistent, urgent.

Go to her. She needs you. She’s the one who sees you. She’s the one who’ll understand.

Her heart raced, and her breath quickened. The words echoed in her mind, undeniable, undeniable. Jinx could feel it now—the pull. That same feeling she had tried to push away for so long. But it was there, undeniable.

She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to shut out the rest of the voices that screamed at her to stop, but the quiet one only grew stronger.

She’s the one. You know it. You feel it.

Her heart thudded in her chest, a frantic pace. She didn’t understand it, but she couldn’t deny it. The tug was undeniable, and without thinking, her feet moved. She ran out of the lair, her feet pounding against the cold stone floor as she made her way out of the building. The further she went, the stronger the pull became. The voice was louder now, almost guiding her, telling her that she had to go to you.

She rushed up the fire escape, every step an impulse she couldn’t ignore, her mind both frantic and clear at the same time. She was done fighting it.

When she reached the rooftop, she stopped for a moment, scanning the empty night for you. And there you were—standing on the edge of the building, as though you had been waiting for her. Your figure was silhouetted against the dim glow of the city lights, and in that moment, it felt like everything aligned.

She moved toward you, her heart in her throat. She couldn’t speak, couldn’t find the words. For a long moment, neither of you said anything. But when you looked up, your eyes met hers, and she could see the confusion, the turmoil, but also the longing, the unspoken desire to be understood.

You hesitated before speaking, your voice unsteady. “Jinx, I—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“Don’t,” she cut you off, her voice soft but firm. She didn’t want any apologies. Not now. Not when her heart was saying something else.

You tried again, your words spilling out in a rush. “I’ve been thinking about you. About how you make me feel. I—I want to help you. I want to be by your side. I—I want to be there for you, like you’ve been there for me.”

Jinx’s breath caught in her throat. She hadn’t expected this. She didn’t know what she had expected, but it wasn’t this. She felt a tightness in her chest, and suddenly, all the voices in her head grew quiet, like they knew this moment mattered. She couldn’t explain it, but she knew. She knew it was real.

Before she could think, before she could second-guess herself, her hand shot out, grabbing the collar of your shirt and pulling you toward her. The kiss was sudden, electric, as though she had been waiting for this moment. The world around her seemed to fall away. There was no city, no voices, no fears. There was only you. And for the first time in a long time, it felt right.

You kissed her back, surprising her with the intensity of it, your arms wrapping around her waist as if you couldn’t get close enough. She felt you, the warmth of your body, the strength, the tenderness. It was all there, everything that had been left unspoken, everything that had been building for so long.

Her heart raced, her breath quickening, but the voices—they were silent. For the first time in forever, the voices in her head fell away, and there was only the feeling of you, of the kiss, of connection. The night air didn’t matter, the sounds of the city didn’t matter. There was only the two of you, only the space between your lips, the energy that passed between you.

When you finally pulled away, your foreheads touched, both of you breathless. It was as if the world had slowed, and in the quiet aftermath, you could both hear the sound of your hearts pounding in your chests. But then, as you stood there, still reeling from the intensity of the moment, you heard a voice. Faint, but sharp.

Caitlyn…

The voice, so quiet in the back of your mind, sent a jolt of panic through you. Your chest tightened, and you pulled away from Jinx just slightly, frowning. The guilt washed over you like a wave.

“I’m sorry, Jinx. I shouldn’t have—” you muttered, your voice full of regret. “I… I didn’t mean to—”

Jinx’s eyes flickered with confusion, but she didn’t interrupt you. She simply looked at you, as if waiting for you to explain. But before you could say anything more, a sound from the door caught both of your attention.

The door to the rooftop creaked open, the sound of footsteps echoing in the quiet night. Both of you turned in unison, only to see Isha standing in the doorway, her expression confused. Isha didn’t speak—but the way she looked at both of you said enough.

“I’m sorry,” Isha’s quiet presence seemed to say, even though she hadn’t uttered a word. She turned to leave, but you couldn’t help but feel like the moment had shifted. You turned to Isha, guiding her away from the rooftop with a heavy heart.

Jinx stayed silent, her gaze lingering on you both, a mix of emotions playing across her face. But as you walked toward the fire escape, you could feel the weight of the moment hanging between you and her.

Once you reached the ground, you turned to Isha, helping her along as you both walked toward the fort where you had gathered your things. Jinx didn’t follow immediately, but you could feel her eyes on you as you went.

In her lair, the voices returned, their noise swirling inside her head. But this time, one voice stood out—a quiet, insistent whisper.

She’s the one, it said, gentle but certain. She’s the one you’ve been waiting for.

Jinx didn’t know what the future held, but for the first time in a long while, she felt like maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t alone.

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

Caitlyn sat in her office, the silence of the room only broken by the soft rustle of paperwork as she carefully went over the latest reports. Her mind was still reeling from the events at the rally, from the confrontation with you, and the undeniable pull she had felt toward you. She couldn’t understand it, but she couldn’t ignore it either. Yet, as much as she tried to focus on her work, a nagging feeling in her chest wouldn’t let her go. 

The sound of the door opening interrupted her thoughts, and Caitlyn looked up to see Ambessa and Rictus entering. Both had their usual authoritative air, their presence commanding. Caitlyn, though still in her own whirlwind, nodded, signaling them to speak. 

“We have some information,” Ambessa said smoothly, her voice calm but with a cold edge. “It’s about the weapon used in the attack on the tower. We’ve been digging into the details and… we found something.” She paused for a moment, as if testing Caitlyn’s reaction.

Rictus stepped forward, his tall frame blocking the light from the door as he gave a sharp smile. “We traced the components of that weapon. Some of the materials, designs… They were linked to someone in Piltover. Someone who’s been making weapons for Jinx.” His eyes flickered toward Caitlyn, watching her closely.

The words hit Caitlyn like a punch to the gut. She felt a chill run down her spine. She hadn’t heard this before, but her mind immediately went to the worst-case scenario. Could it be true?

“Who are you talking about?” Caitlyn’s voice was tight, a creeping anxiety starting to form in her chest.

“Your little friend,” Ambessa continued with an eerie calm, her eyes locking with Caitlyn’s. “The one you’ve been so determined to find. It appears this person has been working closely with Jinx. The weapon that killed your mother… part of it was constructed using designs that belong to them.” Ambessa’s words hung heavy in the air, each syllable dripping with implication.

Rictus chimed in, his tone darker. “That’s right. We’ve traced the connections. The same person who’s been working with Jinx is the one responsible for the device. We have the proof. You were too trusting, Caitlyn. They were hiding in plain sight.”

Caitlyn felt her stomach drop. The shock hit her all at once, as if the ground beneath her feet was slipping away. She was frozen for a moment, her mind racing. You—could you really be involved in this? Was everything she had seen in you just a lie? Her chest tightened, anger building up, twisting in her gut.

“No…” Caitlyn muttered under her breath. Her fingers gripped the edge of her desk, her knuckles white. “You’re lying.” She barely managed to whisper it, as if trying to convince herself more than them.

Ambessa smirked, leaning forward. “We don’t lie, Caitlyn. We’re not the ones who were hiding in plain sight, now are we?”

“But she—” Caitlyn cut herself off, the realization beginning to hit her. She had trusted you. She had let you into her life, into her heart, even if she couldn’t fully admit it. And now, this—this betrayal. Her heart burned with the sting of it.

Rictus stepped forward, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “You see, Caitlyn, Jinx has been using her. She’s been building weapons for them—for Jinx. And now, thanks to this,” he said, tossing a folder onto the desk, “we have the evidence. She was working directly with them to help them attack Piltover. She is a traitor.”

The word hit Caitlyn like a slap across the face. “No,” she said, her voice trembling with anger, “this is not true.” She couldn’t believe it, not yet. But the evidence—she had to look at it. She had to understand it. But no matter how hard she tried, a deep, hollow sense of betrayal started gnawing at her.

“And you’re still trying to protect her?” Ambessa’s voice cut through Caitlyn’s thoughts like a knife. “She’s been playing you this whole time, and you’ve allowed it. It’s time you face reality. She was never one of you.”

The accusation hit harder than she expected. The shock of hearing it come from Ambessa’s lips—the venom in her words—was enough to make Caitlyn’s head spin. She could feel the rage building inside her, her chest rising and falling with every breath. How could you—how could you—do this to her? How could you lie to her face, let her feel something for you, only to betray everything she had ever known?

Rictus’s voice broke through the haze of her thoughts. “She’s working with Jinx. We’ve already sent out people to track her. If you want to find her, you’ll need to act quickly. She’s a liability now. And if we don’t take her out, she’ll take us all down with her.”

Caitlyn couldn’t stand it anymore. The anger, the hurt, the overwhelming feeling of betrayal that clouded her judgment. You were working with Jinx? You—the person she had trusted, the person who had made her feel something she couldn’t explain—had been playing her this whole time? She felt her blood boil, her hands shaking as she gripped the desk harder, her thoughts racing with fury.

She stood up abruptly, her chair scraping violently against the floor. “I’m going after her,” Caitlyn said, her voice dark with anger and determination.

Ambessa and Rictus exchanged glances, but neither said anything. They didn’t need to. They knew what Caitlyn was capable of.

“You won’t stop me,” she said, her words sharp, cutting through the tension in the room.

As she turned to leave, her mind fixated on one thing: You. You had betrayed her, and now she had no choice but to find you. To face you. To make you pay for everything. Because if you had truly turned against her, if you had been working with Jinx all along… she would make sure you didn’t get away with it.

And somewhere deep inside, beneath the anger and the rage, there was a small flicker of something else. Something that made her hesitate. Something that, for just a moment, felt like it might break her heart. But she couldn’t let it. Not now. She had to do this.

You were a traitor. And she couldn’t let you go free.

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

The warm sun bathed the open field in soft, golden light. The wind played through the tall grass, swaying it in gentle waves. Birds chirped in the distance, and the air was full of the scent of fresh earth and blooming flowers. You and Isha ran across the field, the sounds of her laughter ringing out as you chased after her in a game of tag.

She darted ahead, faster than you expected, her small figure almost blending into the landscape as she sprinted with joy. Her giggles were pure, carefree, and infectious. You pushed yourself to catch up, the ground beneath you soft and firm, giving way to each step as you closed in on her. She glanced over her shoulder just as you reached out, and with a gleeful shriek, you grabbed her in mid-air, lifting her up and spinning her around in playful triumph.

You both fell together into a patch of soft wildflowers, the colors of purples, yellows, and whites mixing together beneath you. The flowers tickled your skin, and the world seemed to slow as the sound of your laughter filled the air. Isha’s laughter was the sweetest sound, and you couldn’t help but grin as you both rolled through the flowers, giggling like children who had forgotten the weight of the world.

From the edge of the field, Jinx watched with quiet intensity, her eyes drawn to the way you moved with Isha, the way your smiles seemed so natural, so effortless. The interaction from a few nights ago—the raw emotions, the vulnerability, the tension—still played through her mind. Did you mean it? she wondered. Were you scared? She hadn’t forgotten the words you’d said, or how you looked at her, and it made something stir deep inside her. There was a longing, a confusion, that she couldn’t shake.

You playfully teased Isha about how you were going to catch her, your voice light and mischievous as you taunted her in your usual way. She squealed in excitement and dashed toward Jinx, her arms outstretched, ready to leap into her arms. Jinx caught her easily, lifting her up and spinning her in a whirlwind of laughter. You watched them, your heart softening at the sight of the two of them so happy, so full of life.

But then, your expression shifted. Your smile faltered, and something in the air felt different. Jinx noticed the change in your demeanor immediately. It was like the energy around you had shifted, something heavy settling over you. You stood still for a moment, your gaze turning toward them, locking with Jinx’s.

Then, with an unsettling calm, you took a few slow steps forward, eyes fixed on her and Isha. Something was coming. Jinx felt it too. Her heart skipped a beat. Her eyes flickered around the field, searching for any signs of danger.

That’s when the explosion hit.

The force of it sent shockwaves through the air, a deafening crack that reverberated in the ground, knocking you off your feet. You were thrown back, flying through the air, tumbling several yards before crashing into the ground with a harsh, painful thud.

Jinx’s blood ran cold as she heard your scream—no, your command—rising from the chaos.

“RUN!”

The urgency in your voice pierced through everything, and Jinx didn’t hesitate. She scooped Isha up into her arms with a swift, practiced motion and sprinted away. Isha’s small hands reached out toward you, her face full of confusion and fear, her quiet pleas echoing in the silence.

“I’m not leaving you!” she seemed to be saying, her face strained with the silent desperation of someone who couldn’t speak, but whose heart was crying out.

Jinx’s chest tightened. Her eyes blurred with tears, but she didn’t stop. She pushed forward, running as fast as she could, not even daring to look back at the devastation you had just endured. She could hear Isha’s soft cries, the child’s desperate fingers grasping at her in a futile attempt to return to you. It tore at Jinx’s heart with each step.

Behind her, you struggled to stand, your body trembling with pain, but you refused to collapse. Adrenaline surged through you as you fought off a few enforcers, desperate to hold your ground. The battle was brief, but your strength was fading, and you could feel it. The pain in your stomach was unbearable, but you fought through it, blocking blows, disarming attackers.

Then, the crack of a rifle.

The shot rang through the air like a thunderclap, and your body froze. The world seemed to slow as the bullet pierced through your side, the force knocking the breath out of you. Pain shot through your body like a lightning bolt, and you staggered back, barely managing to stay on your feet. Blood welled from the wound, warm and sticky, soaking through your clothes as you dropped to your knees.

Your vision blurred. The pain in your stomach was overwhelming, each breath a struggle. Your strength was failing you. You looked around, and your heart skipped as you spotted Caitlyn in the distance. She stood at the edge of the field, a rifle still raised, a cold look in her eyes.

Her gaze met yours across the battlefield. For a brief moment, your eyes locked, and you saw something in her expression—something cold, but also… familiar. It was a look that haunted you.

Jinx, hidden from view, watched it all unfold from the shadows. Her chest tightened as her mind raced, her heart hammering in her ears. She saw you drop to your knees, your body shaking, the blood pooling beneath you. She was paralyzed with fear, unable to tear her eyes away from the scene.

Isha’s small hand pressed against Jinx’s chest, her fingers curling around her as she whimpered softly, the weight of what was happening sinking in.

“I’m not leaving you,” Jinx whispered to her, even though there was no way she could keep that promise. Not with everything that was unfolding.

With a quick, frantic glance back at you, Jinx grabbed Isha and ran, putting every ounce of strength she had into escaping. The last thing she saw was you, crumpling to the ground, unable to move anymore.

The screams of the world faded as Jinx pushed forward, the only thing on her mind: finding her sister.

She wasn’t going to let you—or her—be lost to this.

————————

told yall… next chap later today (so much about to go down- this a long ass fic i wrote so hold on to your hats cause boy this meal about to be five mf stars)

[paulyenvol6]

Bound by Flame (Chapter 4)

Contains: rape, non-con, virginity loss, smut, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected sex, dirty talk, angst, crying, aftercare, incest, highly abusive behaviour

Read with Caution!

Wordcount: ~3.99k

Masterlist of this story

Maera whimpered and looked down to her uncle, which made her snap back to reality and her stomach turned.

This was so wrong and everything felt so surreal that her head burned like it was on fire. Her surroundings moved and turned and Maera wished she could simply fall asleep and dream until this mess was resolved.

But Daemon took the sound as a sign for her pleasure and smirked against her core.

"I knew you'd break, sweetling. I knew you just needed me to tame this little cunt. So sweet and innocent… gods be good."

His eyes rolled back at her taste and then Daemon slowly slid his finger in her hole which made Maera jolt on the bed. She was clenched and tight and closed because of the intrusion.

"Relax, Maera. I don't want to hurt you.", Daemon said and held her hips down as he had sensed the way she shifted and tried to escape from his hand. "Just breathe. Breathe and relax your muscles."

She didn't know what to do. Yes, she didn't want this to hurt either but Maera felt like the more she let him do and gave in, the closer he got to claiming her. And also she just didn't want to make her uncle feel like she had broken and wanted him to take these actions.

"N-No.", the girl sniffed but Daemon's finger stayed inside the warmth of her hole while his tongue continued its patters over her nub.

"It's only gonna be worse if you don't relax. Breathe. Come on."

And so Maera closed her eyes in desperation but concentrated on exhaling while she felt the muscles in her core loosen. That led to the pain fading away until the stretch was almost nonexistent and Daemon saw it in her reaction.

"Good girl. You see? Everything is gonna be alright if you just listen to me and obey your uncle."

With these words Daemon started to slowly move his finger inside of her and scissored her open for him all while keeping her pearl stimulated so she would concentrate on the pleasure rather than the pain from spreading her open. Soon the rogue prince added a second finger which brought his niece a sharp pain in her core and her face ashened as she tried to push his hand away.

"Shhh, Maera.", he soothed her and sucked her pearl between his soft lips which made her legs tremble. "Yeah that's right."

Daemon worked his two fingers into her cunt until she felt so full, she wondered how she would ever be able to take his cock. She didn't want to think about it though because the thought made the knot in her stomach tighten with fear. The assault continued and Daemon's tongue flicked her bundle of nerves faster until Maera felt a tension in her thighs that seemed to enhance with time. Her toes curled and sweat covered her forehead which Daemon noticed with a content smirk on his face.

"You're going to finish for me, little kitten? Gonna soak my face?"

She didn't know what her uncle was talking about but she couldn't fight this overwhelming feeling that sneaked up on her until she felt like her body was falling apart and a wave of relief washed over her. It felt good and exciting and for a moment it felt like she was flying on a cloud. Maera couldn't stop a whine from leaving her mouth and then she suddenly felt so exhausted that her previous tensed and stressed body relaxed and she was sprawled out underneath Daemon.

He had observed the effects of her high and his tongue hadn't left her pearl. He devoured her taste, collected her arousal on his tongue to swallow it with relish and then finally pulled his fingers out of her hole which made Maera sigh out. She had expected him to be finished with eating her cunt now but without a warning Daemon's mouth came down to her pearl once again. The little bundle of nerves was so overstimulated, so reactive to his touch that she squirmed and shifted, everything to get away from him.

"You're gonna give me another one, little girl.", he said and it didn't sound like a question at all. Nevertheless Maera answered with shivering lips.

"N-No. Please no."

"Yes, you are. You're mine, sweetling. And if I want you to come then you will."

She let out something that sounded like a pleading curse but Daemon didn't pay any attention to it. He just took her pearl between his lips and softly sucked on it while his hands held her down.

"You're all mine, Maera. Mine to ravish and to pleasure the way I want to. And you're gonna come for me as many times as I want to."

The girl whimpered and closed her eyes like he would vanish if only she didn't see him. But of course Daemon didn't and instead drove her closer and closer to her second release. He used his tongue to lap up her wetness and savoured the taste on his tongue. She tasted sweet and salty and a little metallic and Daemon was so addicted to it already that he simply had to edge her just so he could enjoy this cunt a little longer.

His head was glued to her center, not even leaving it for one second to take a proper breath. He wanted more though he didn't know how to get more so Daemon shoved two of his fingers in her mouth just to do anything. She hadn't expected it and let out a disapproving moan while tilting and turning her head to escape him. As a reply her uncle pushed his fingers deeper so she gagged around him. He chuckled darkly and watched his little niece struggle until he thought that it was enough and he allowed her to properly breathe again.

In the meantime Daemon's mouth hadn't left her throbbing and aching pearl and in Maera's expression he could sense that she would finish soon. She on the other hand was so overstained and anxious, not only because of her fear of Daemon but also because these feelings were entirely new to her and she didn't know what her body's reaction meant. Maera had never experienced something like this. This tension in her thighs, the way her core felt when her uncle brushed over the little nub. And of course her shame and anger because she hated that he was capable of making this terrible crime feel so good.

Soon Maera was torn away from her thoughts because Daemon actually made her release against her will and she was turned into a quivering mess again. Tears escaped her eyes and she shifted against his grip on her hips. And then it was already over.

After licking up the remains of her arousal he finally stopped his assault on her pearl and raised his head from between her legs. Maera's eyes were burning so she closed them as if Daemon couldn't see her when she couldn't see him but of course her illusion was taken when her uncle leaned down to kiss her slightly parted lips.

That made the girl open her eyes and she had no choice but to wait until Daemon had enough and then he pulled away to take his breeches off. She was seized by panic as she watched his hard cock and Maera tried to crawl away underneath him. But of course he was quick to take hold of her upper arm and pull her back so his face was on the same level as hers.

"Please Daemon. Please don't do this."

Daemon sighed deeply like he was genuinely disappointed in her and his thumb ran over her temple.

"Oh my sweet Maera. I thought you'd be obedient now that I have gifted you a marvelous release."

She pressed her lips together and tried to surpress her eyes from producing more tears.

"This is wrong, uncle. Please, we… this is not…"

His hand reached out to abruptly wrap around her throat and he squeezed lightly.

"It would be wrong for me not to consume our marriage, little one. I thought you learned about this when you were a child."

She gasped for air and her nails dug into Daemon's arm but he made her suffer a few more seconds before he loosened his grip and her head fell back into the cushion.

"Shut up now. I'll be as gentle as possible but you have to cooperate with me and try to fucking relax." His face tensed with fury and he grabbed her chin.

"But I swear to the gods, Maera, if you will continue to resist me I'm gonna take you like a common whore and not care about your discomfort. Do you understand me?", he growled and his niece anxiously nodded.

She looked at him with widened eyes and felt her mind racing for a solution or any idea what to do. But of course she didn't come up with anything except trying to fight him off but this had proven to be most ineffective those past minutes and so she was frozen while her uncle pressed his hips closer to her.

He wrapped a hand around his manhood and guided the tip through her folds. She was very wet by now and Daemon collected her arousal to coat her entrance and then his cock circled her hole. Maera had a painful expression on her face though he hadn't even started entering her yet but in response Daemon just stroke her hair and traced her soft skin.

"Breathe in, little girl.", he commanded her and Maera found she had no choice but to obey. There wasn't anything she could do, so she best tried to trust Daemon when he said that he wanted to make this as pleasant as possible for her. So she inhaled deeply and twitched when she felt his tip working itself into her hole.

"Breathe out.", Daemon's husky voice then cut through the air and again, Maera obeyed.

While the air was leaving her lungs her uncle slowly slid into her and the girl felt a distinct pain in her center. She had thought that there were no more tears to cry but the sting made her eyes wet and her buttom lip shivered as he inserted himself deeper inside of her.

"That's right.", Daemon breathed and Maera didn't have a choice but to lay there and endure the pain until he had filled her with his cock.

Once he was all the way inside of her he waited so his little niece could adjust and caressed her waist.

"Taking me so well, love. I know it hurts, but you're doing so fine. Just breathe… breathe for me, Maera."

She was sobbing and a veil of tears made his face look blurry but for some reason she instinctively listened to him and forced herself to let air enter her lungs. Perhaps she was just too tired and done with everything that she was happy to let someone guide her instead of fighting. Only slowly did the pain fade and the tears just wouldn't stop so Daemon leaned down to kiss the new ones away.

"There's no need to cry, babygirl. You know that when you were a child you've always been at calm when you were with me? Because I took care of you. The way I do now. Everything will be fine, you're my wife now. I'm gonna protect you and guide you."

He spoke those words against her ear and Maera couldn't help but relax. Gods be good, she was so tired. Her limbs hurt like hell, her cunt felt sore and aching and all of the crying had made her face and eyes swollen. What if she just gave in? Yes, she was so frightened and fearful of what her father would say, what would happen now and what Daemon was capable of doing but right now the thought of laying back and giving herself to him sounded tempting.

As much as she hated and despised him, maybe there was some part of the loving uncle she had known as a child was still left inside him. Maybe he really would take care of her if she obeyed him. A part of her screamed to banish those thoughts. He had taken her to Dragonstone under false intentions, had wed her against her will and then claimed her maidenhead though she had tried to make him stop countless times. He was a monster, a cruel and evil monster whom she shouldn't ever trusted again.

And yet… when his voice sounded so softly Maera felt like a little child again and remembered how Daemon had soothed her when she had hurt herself, cuddled her when there was a storm outside and how he had comforted her when she had had a fight with Aegon or her father. It was an instinct of her, a natural reaction to his loving words that stood so much in contrary to his vicious actions.

But as Daemon kissed her next to her ear and ran his hands over her collarbone Maera didn't push his hands away or turn her head away from his lips. Mayhaps it was partly because of the exhausion she felt and yet the girl laid still and the only sound that left her mouth was her crying.

And when Daemon pressed little kisses to her cheek and calmingly held her head for a brief moment Maera imagined that it hadn't been Daemon who had hurt her but someone else and now her uncle was merely the person that comforted her. It was easier for her. That way she could disconnect from the terrible things that he had done and repressing it was a lot simpler for her upset mind right now.

Of course she wasn't able to stay in this headspace for a long time because things were just too present and taunting and still for the first time in a long time his hand on her head had something consoling. Maybe also because Maera felt so horrible and desperate that any sort of loving gesture could give her solace, even if it came from the person who had made her feel like that in the first place.

Daemon was buried deep inside of her cunt and now started to slowly pull out of her only to thrust back in. It gave her discomfort again but this time the pain faded after a few moments. He groaned and watched her self-satisfied.

"Good girl, looks like you understand your place now. You know who you belong to and who owns you." 

He found a slow and steady rhythm of fucking her sore hole and though she felt as if her uncle's cock was bruising her insides, Maera was relieved because over time it felt much better and she didn't gasp for air in pain every time his cock entered her. While slamming into her Daemon pressed her into the bed with his weight and with his left hand toyed with her nipples while his right attempted to calm her by caressing her cheek.

"You feel so good wrapped around me, my sweet girl. So fucking tight. The best… fucking… cunt I've ever had.", he growled against her forehead.

Maera couldn't answer to his sweet talk. She felt numb, feared to cry when she opened her mouth and speaking of it, she didn't know how to ever talk to Daemon again. How to look at him or laugh with him. And that thought taunted her because she was his wife now and was obliged to spend the rest of her life with him. Maera's lashes fluttered and she felt a lump in her throat.

She was brought back to the moment when her uncle pressed his lips on her temple while picking up his speed.

"I'm gonna spill my seed in your little hole, love. M'gonna breed your cunt and make you round with my child. I know you'll look so stunning like that, little Maera. Gonna breed this cunt until I've gotten you pregnant."

He moved faster, the sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room and his hips snapped against hers roughly.

"Fucking hells.", Daemon growled while his hand gripped her breast tightly.

And then all of the sudden it was over.

Daemon had let out a grunt and Maera had felt a liquid filling her hole that her uncle had made sure to push inside with his cock so nothing spilled out and was wasted.

Then he collapsed on top of her and his head dropped so it rested in the crouch of her neck. A few moments later he then crawled off her and rested on his back next to her, his eyes closed. And then for the first time in many hours Maera was at peace. Not that she was physically alone but though Daemon laid next to her, her mind could collect itself and there wasn't an imminent fear or angst disturbing her. But perhaps she would have preferred to be disturbed because the thoughts that now flooded her mind were of the worst kind.

She replayed everything that had happened in the last 24 hours and it felt incredibly surreal. On one hand it felt like she hadn't actually experienced it but on the other it was so clear and real to her that the memory made her shudder. A part of her found that it hadn't been her who lived through this and only had watched the events as a spectator while another part had to relive it over and over again and it was a horrible sentiment.

She closed her eyes because she couldn't bare looking at this ceiling anymore. The wooden beams, the solitary iron hook dangling from the center, the occasional cracks in the stones. The picture was carved into Maera's mind and she just had to see something else. She definitely prefered the darkness of her mind.

Daemon granted her this peace, if you could call it that, for another 5 minutes and then sighed deeply. He opened his eyes, glanced at his niece and then heaved himself on his elbows.

"How are you feeling, sweetling?" Her eyes shut open at once and she anxiously glared at Daemon.

"Good.", she sniffed and quickly dropped her gaze to her fingers folded over her stomach. Her uncle watched her profile and then sighed again.

"Come on. We're gonna get you cleaned, you look terrible."

She sniffed again and a new stubborness overshadowed her fear for a second.

"No. I don't want to.", Maera whispered, her eyes still avoiding him.

"You have to get cleaned, niece. It's not gonna take long, alright?"

But she was determined and shook her head. "Then I'm gonna do it alone."

In a matter of seconds she regretted those words though because she was scared of his reaction and now finally her eyes wandered to him. Maera bit her lip waiting for his outbreak but surprisingly, he just bit his lower lip and then looked at her.

"No you're not. Come on now, I'm not gonna repeat myself."

That was the moment when she already gave up and decided that it would be more sufficent and easier for her to obey him. Now that she knew what her uncle was capable of she wouldn't take a risk merely because she felt bratty.

And so the girl climbed off the bed and immediately felt her whole body hurting and aching from their recent activities. New tears formed in her eyes when her arse touched the bed which didn't go unnoticed by Daemon.

"It'll be better tomorrow."

With these words he wrapped an arm around her waist and guided her to one of the chairs in the middle of the room. As if he was prepared for this, a bucket of water with a washcloth inside had been placed next to the table and once he had gently pushed Maera on the chair, Daemon kneeled in front of her.

"Spread your legs.".

Though his words sounded warmly, they made Maera's stomach twist. Everything inside her tensed and she knew she couldn't do it. She was too scared, too ravaged to open her legs for him after what he had done. She couldn't do it.

Maera hadn't answered him and so her uncle put a finger under her chin and lifted it.

"Maera. Spread your legs so I can clean you up."

She looked numb, her eyes hazy as if she was far away with her thoughts but she shook her head.

"N-No."

Daemon's expression hardened and he exhaled loudly.

"Sweet niece. How often do I have to tell you that you're to obey me."

His hand gripped her chin tightly. "You were very impudent earlier and believe me, it wasn't pleasant for me to deal with your defiant attitude every few seconds. I thought I taught you a lesson though. Don't upset me now, little girl."

Seeing the anger in his flashing eyes, Maera thought it to be a poor idea to try and change his mind by being bratty and yet she couldn't do as he had asked either. In her desperation she clenched her fists and pleadingy looked at the man kneeling in front of her.

"Please uncle. Please don't make me, please. I can clean myself or… or a servant could do it, just please…"

Her voice was almost inaudible but Daemon had understood every word. Yet he didn't answer her and instead forcefully pushed his hand between her knees and spread her legs which made his niece cry out. Her eyes closed and new tears fell from the corner of her eyes while Daemon shoved his knee between hers so they couldn't close. Her cunt was on display for him and the way he observed her womanhood made Maera hopelessly drop her head to her chest and she had no choice but to let the rogue prince clean her cunt with the washcloth, a motion that made her squirm as her sore core needed nothing but some peace.

Daemon now saw that his niece had bleeded because once he had wiped her cunt free of the remainings of his seed and her own arousal, blood stains were visible on the fabric and he lifted his eyebrows. Maera hadn't noticed any of that though because she was too concentrated on sobbing so much so that her tears had blurred whatever was happening in front of her.

Soon Daemon was finished with her cunt and continued by cleaning her face with a second cloth. Though new tears were rolling up her cheeks, he removed the traces of the old ones as well as the now dried sweat.

When he was done with that, Daemon got up from the ground and helped his niece up who unwillingly took his arm. Perhaps she was smart enough to understand that at his point he would only lead her to the bed so she could finally get some sleep and it would be unwise to fight him now.

And he did bring her to the bed, the sight of which brough forward awful feeling but still the thought of sleeping for several hours made Maera want to approach it again. She laid down on the left side of it while her new husband took the right side. He sprawled out on his back but she didn't pay attention to him. She just rolled herself on her side with her eyes facing the stone wall next to the bed.

With as much distance between her and Daemon she closed her eyes and despite being so incredibly tired Maera needed almost two hours until her choatic head was able to drift away in a land of uneasy dreams.

~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist:

@smashee0789 @classicsimpforaaronwarner @hangmanscoming @ninihrtss @coffeebooksrain18 @aleemendoza2425-blog

[nomynameisnothing]

Reminds me of something I was thinking about earlier today, pretty perfectly actually.

I went to an all girls Christian camp every summer for 2 weeks to ride horses and go backpacking when I was in my teen years.

I was a streadfast ultracynical atheist then. I felt I had a duty to disprove everything about religion. I thought believing in god meant you were stupid.

I always did my best to poke holes in all the bible stories and find a way to prove that they didnt make any sense.

My cabin leader was the sweetest person I've ever met, so friendly and wholesomely christian.

I said to her, "How can you believe in something when there are so many holes... so many things that dont add up?"

She said that she imagined her faith like a cabin. Like a home, somewhere she felt protected with a roof over her head to ride out the bad weather. She said, "Yes, there are cracks and holes in the walls but thats where the light shines through. Thats faith."

The knowing that comes from deeply understanding your place in the universe and in this life; from understanding the laws that govern the soul and trusting in your connection with spirit to guide and protect you every step of the way.

I understand that now

Not because its comforting or convenient, but because I see the evidence. I get it now.

Its faith in laws in the universe in uncharted dimensions of phsyics that have yet to be defined.

I believe this is now the time when we can make that leap and bridge the gap between quantum physics and spirituality. They are not so different. One is just unproven because it is the study of phenomena that can't be empirically tested. The laws of nature still prevail.

As above, so below.

What does Acts 19:19 mean?

The people of Ephesus are learning what real supernatural power looks like. Like all pagans in the Roman Empire, they have household idols and city gods; they are known for the temple of Artemis. They also have a culture of witchcraft, which attracts demons, which attract Jewish exorcists.

This is the state of the city when Paul arrives. In response to all the magic, the Holy Spirit empowers him to heal and expel demons in Jesus' name. Jewish magicians hear him and start using "Jesus" as a kind of magical word. When seven sons of a Jewish high priest named Sceva enter a house and try to use Jesus' name to expel a powerful demon, the evil spirit attacks them, and the would-be exorcists run out in the street (Acts 19:11–16).

The whole city hears, and many of the practitioners of witchcraft immediately respond. Likely, they realize their spells and incantations don't really control demons, but Paul does. First, they reveal their practices, thus voiding them of power (Acts 19:17–18). Now, they burn their spells. "Ephesian writing," or Ephesia grammata, is a reference to written-down spells, some rolled into small containers and worn as amulets. If the pieces of silver are silver drachma, the value would be something close to 150 years' worth of a laborer's wages.

It's not uncommon for an unbeliever to see the power of Jesus and want to use it to gain influence and money. Simon the Magician did so in Samaria (Acts 8:9–24). But sometimes people are just waiting for rescue. When criticized for eating with unsavory people, Jesus said He came for the sick who need a doctor (Mark 2:15–17). When Zacchaeus heard Jesus, he gratefully accepted Jesus' message and His love and resolved to return what he had cheated (Luke 19:1–10). As Paul works, the demons flee left and right (Acts 19:12). Maybe the magicians just need someone to rescue them.

by Remedios Varo

[creamflix]

Hii for the Xmas prompt Geto x Santa hats x naughty

you’ve received a gift! ⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ want your own gift? ・:〃➜ click here! 

the pub was loud, warm, and absolutely drowning in christmas cheer. SUGURU had begrudgingly agreed to wear the ridiculous santa hat handed to him at the door — mostly because you’d made it look cute by tugging yours on with an exaggerated grin.

“come ooonnn, sugu,” you’d teased earlier, pinching his cheek. “it’s festive!”

and because he could never really say no to you, there he was, sitting in a corner booth with that silly hat perched on his head like he’d lost a bet.

but somehow, you’d both ended up in the cramped, questionably clean bathroom of the pub, his broad frame caging you against the counter.

“what was that about, pulling my hat?” suguru growled, his voice low and thick with irritation — and something much darker. 

“it was an accident!” you protested, your hands gripping the sink behind you for balance. “i didn’t mean to mess it up!”

“oh, you didn’t mean to?” he asked, cocking a brow as his hand tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his sharp gaze.

“no! i just —”

“don’t give me that innocent act,” he interrupted, his thumb brushing over your lips in a way that made your stomach tighten. “you know how i feel about my hair. and now you’ve got the nerve to mess with the hat, too?”

“sugu, s'just a hat,” you tried, though your voice wavered under his intense stare.

“just a hat?” he repeated, mock offense dripping from every syllable. “do you have any idea how many people saw me in this? how much of my dignity i’ve sacrificed tonight for you?”

“oh, please,” you muttered, rolling your eyes — though your resolve was crumbling fast under his heated gaze.

his grip tightened on your waist, pulling you flush against him. “you’re awfully bold for someone about to beg for forgiveness,” he murmured, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear.

“forgiveness? for a hat?” you said, trying to keep your voice steady.

“for ruining my holly, jolly christmas spirit,” he replied, his teeth grazing your earlobe.

“sugu —”

“don’t sugu me,” he interrupted, his voice dropping even lower as he trailed his hand down your side. “you don’t get to make a mess of me and walk away scot-free.”

“it’s not that serious!” you tried to argue, but the way his hand slid under the hem of your sweater made your breath hitch.

“oh, it’s serious,” he countered, his smirk sharp as his lips trailed down your neck. “and i’m going to make sure you never forget it.”

“you’re so dramatic,” you muttered, though your knees were already buckling as his hand found its way to your thigh, his touch firm and possessive.

“and you’re so careless,” he shot back, his voice laced with amusement as he lifted you onto the counter, settling between your legs.

“you owe me,” he said simply, his eyes dark and focused as his fingers now toyed with the waistband of your skirt.

“owe you what?” you asked breathlessly, your body already betraying you.

he smirked, his lips brushing yours in a teasing, fleeting kiss. “a proper apology,” he murmured, his hands sliding up your thighs with deliberate slowness. 

“but don’t worry. i’ll make sure you get it right.”

“how —” your words caught in your throat as he suddenly dropped to his knees in front of you, the sight of him towering over you mere seconds ago replaced by the overwhelming visual of him kneeling, his hands trailing up your thighs.

his fingers curled into the waistband of your underwear, yanking it down in one swift motion. 

“you ruined santa’s hat,” he said, his tone almost conversational as he tossed your panties to the side. “so you’re gonna make it up to me.”

“in a bathroom?” you squeaked, your face burning.

“it’s where all the best punishments happen,” he said, flashing you a wicked grin before leaning in.

his lips pressed hotly against your inner thigh, his teeth grazing your skin just enough to make you gasp. 

“and don’t even think about holding back, sweetheart. i want to hear how sorry you are for messing up my christmas spirit.”

you opened your mouth to protest, but the words died on your tongue as his mouth moved higher, his tongue flicking over your clit in a way that made your knees buckle.

“keep pulling on my hair,” he muttered, his voice muffled but firm as his hands gripped your hips, keeping you pinned against the wall. “but if you touch the hat again? i won’t be this nice.”

you whimpered, your fingers instinctively threading through his dark hair as his mouth worked magic against you, the sound of the pub’s chaotic cheer fading into the background.

merry christmas, indeed.

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[1chaerry]

Tides of Possession

summary: shanks falls in love, a deadly obsession that twists and turns, capturing the one who stole his heart, even if it means forcing her into marriage.

c.w. : forced marriage, forced proximity, manipulative shanks, possessive and obsessive behaviour

w.c. : 5.2k

part 1(?)

Disclaimer: Reader is called Saram, meaning 'Human/Person'. Shanks has both arms.

Saram sat in the dimly lit room, the heavy oak desk before her casting a long shadow. The paper lying flat on its surface was as innocuous as it was damning. Certificate of Marriage, it read in elegant, flowing script. Each letter seemed to mock her resolve, and the delicate curves of the font were at odds with the suffocating weight in her chest.

Her hands rested on her knees, trembling as she stared down at the paper. A pen lay neatly to the side, as though taunting her.

Behind her, Shanks moved closer, the weight of his presence pressing into her back like a predator stalking its prey. The air between them crackled with something darker than words—power, control, possession.

“You know,” he murmured, his voice a velvet purr that brushed against her ear, “you don’t have to do this if you truly don’t want to.” His tone was soothing, almost kind, but the unspoken threat coiled beneath it like a viper. “No one’s forcing you, love.”

The words sent a chill down Saram’s spine. She knew better. If she didn’t sign the paper, there would be consequences. Lives would be lost, her crew would suffer, and the innocent people she had sworn to protect would bleed for her stubbornness.

Her throat tightened as she tried to find her voice. “I don’t understand why,” she finally whispered, the words trembling on her lips. “Why this? Why go this far?”

Shanks chuckled, a low sound that sent ripples through her. He placed his hands on the back of her chair, leaning down so that his lips brushed against the shell of her ear. “You already know the answer to that, Saram,” he said softly, his voice laced with possessiveness. “In exchange for sparing your precious friends, your crew, and your quaint little ideals, I want you. All of you.”

The words sent a shiver down her spine, and she hated the way her body reacted to the heat in his voice. She hated the way his mere proximity made her feel cornered, trapped, like a bird with its wings clipped.

“This just makes it more binding,” Shanks added, gesturing to the paper.

Saram’s eyes dropped back to the document. Her fingers twitched, hovering over the pen, but she couldn’t bring herself to pick it up. Her stomach churned.

“You know this isn’t legitimate,” she said, her voice weak. “It’s not legally binding without an officiator.”

Shanks let out a quiet laugh, the sound dark and rich. “Legality?” he mused. “You think I care about that?” His hand came to rest on her shoulder, his grip firm yet strangely gentle. “I can find a priest to threaten, or a Marine judge to coerce. But if you’re so worried about appearances, we could always have a proper ceremony.”

Her head snapped up, her cheeks flushing hot. “No!” The word came out sharper than she intended.

Shanks grinned, a lazy, predatory curve of his lips. “So shy,” he teased. “Don’t worry, love. We’ll skip the audience—for now.”

Her nails dug into her palms as she looked away, her heart racing. “You don’t have to do this,” she said, her voice shaking. “You could let me go. You could stop this madness.”

His grip on her shoulder tightened, and she felt him lean closer. “And why would I do that?” he murmured, his tone softer now, more dangerous. “When I finally have you right where I want you?”

She swallowed hard, her resolve crumbling. He wouldn’t stop. She knew that. He’d burn everything she cared about to the ground before he let her go. And yet, there was something in his voice, in his words, that sent a different kind of chill through her. He wasn’t lying when he said he wouldn’t hurt her. He’d destroy the world for her, but he’d never let anyone harm her—not even himself.

“I wouldn’t be unkind to you,” Shanks said suddenly, his voice dropping to a whisper. He brushed his lips against the side of her neck, barely a touch, but it left her skin burning. “You’d belong to me, yes, but I’d take care of you.”

She wanted to scream, to push him away, to fight back with everything she had. But she couldn’t. Her hands were tied, her choices stolen from her. And deep down, she hated the way his words made her hesitate. He’d never shown her cruelty—only relentless, consuming determination.

“You’d take care of me,” she echoed bitterly, her voice breaking. “Like a prisoner.”

“Like my queen,” Shanks corrected, his tone unwavering. “And you’d rule alongside me. No one would dare touch you.”

Her heart twisted painfully, the weight of his words crashing down on her. She couldn’t win this. She had to think of her crew, her people, everyone who was counting on her to make the right choice.

With a trembling hand, she reached for the pen. Her vision blurred as she stared at the paper again, the letters dancing before her eyes.

“So selfless,” Shanks said softly, guiding her hand with his own. His grip was steady, his warmth seeping into her skin. “So sacrificial. Always putting others before yourself. We’ll have to work on that once you’re mine.”

Her chest ached as the pen met the paper, the ink bleeding into the page like a wound. Each letter she wrote felt heavier than the last, sealing her fate with every stroke.

When she finished, Shanks took the paper from her and held it up, his smile dark and triumphant. “You’ve made the right choice, love,” he said, pressing a feather-light kiss to her temple. “And now, you’ll never have to make another one again.”

The first night in the shared room was suffocating.

Saram had always been independent, free to roam, to stay in her own space, with only the sea and her crew to keep her company. The quarters aboard Shanks' ship were a far cry from what she was used to. The walls felt too close, the air too thick. But what made her skin crawl the most was the figure lounging casually on the other side of the room, watching her every move.

Shanks. Of course, he had insisted she stay in his personal quarters. There were no alternatives, no protest to be heard. He made it clear, with that infernal smile of his, that this was non-negotiable. She belonged to him now, and the last thing she needed was privacy.

Saram sat on the edge of the bed, her back rigid, eyes fixed firmly on the floor. She felt exposed, vulnerable. She didn’t want to show weakness, didn’t want him to know how much she hated this. But everything about the room—the soft light of the lantern, the scent of the sea in the air, the rhythmic creaking of the ship—felt like a constant reminder of her predicament.

And Shanks, who lounged in a chair by the window, looking out at the horizon with a calm expression, was the final piece of the prison she now found herself in.

“You’re not sleeping?” he asked, his voice smooth, but with that dangerous undercurrent that she had come to dread. He didn’t even look at her as he spoke, but the way his words lingered in the air made her tense up.

Saram didn’t answer at first. She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of acknowledging him. She shifted uncomfortably, her mind racing with a hundred different ways to get out of this.

“I know you’re awake,” he continued, his voice a little louder, more amused. “You’re not even trying to hide it. It’s cute.”

“Cut it out,” she finally muttered, her voice tight. Her eyes flicked toward him, just for a second, before she looked away again. His relaxed posture made her blood boil. How could he be so calm, so sure of himself?

“You know, Saram,” he began, his tone shifting to something far more intimate, “there’s no need to be so cold toward me. We’re in this together now.”

The words felt like a slap. She could almost feel the weight of them pressing down on her chest. Her teeth gritted together in frustration.

“I’m not in this with you, Shanks,” she snapped, turning her body toward him. “I never asked for this. I didn’t sign that damn paper out of choice.”

Shanks finally looked at her, and there was that predatory gleam in his eyes again. “Did you really think you had a choice?” he asked, his voice dropping to a low, dark tone. “You’ve already made your choice, Saram. You’re with me now, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

Her heart raced, a mix of anger and fear stirring inside her. She knew he was right. She had signed, had agreed to his terms. But that didn’t mean she had to accept it. There was still a part of her that wanted to break free.

“I’ll never be with you,” she spat, standing up. She could feel the tension building, thick and palpable between them. “I’ll never be your pawn, your property.”

Shanks’ gaze never wavered, his eyes dark with amusement. “You’re not a pawn, love. You’re my equal… for now.” He leaned forward in his chair, the motion slow and deliberate. “But that can change, you know. I’m not asking for much. Just a little trust. A little patience.”

She shook her head, stepping away from the bed. She didn’t want to give him any more room to get under her skin. She didn’t want to show him how much his words affected her.

“You’re sick,” she muttered, her voice thick with disdain.

Shanks laughed then, and the sound was rich and deep, filled with dark amusement. “Sick? Maybe. But I’m not lying to you, Saram. You know as well as I do that the only reason you’re still fighting is because you hate that you’ve given in. You hate that I’ve beaten you at your own game.”

Her breath hitched, and she turned to face him. “I’m not defeated.”

His grin spread wider, his eyes glinting with something far more dangerous. “You will be. Eventually.” He stood from the chair, moving slowly toward her. “You’re mine now, Saram. And that means we’re going to work together, whether you like it or not.”

Saram stepped back, her back hitting the wall. She hated that he was so sure of himself. She hated the way his words crawled under her skin like poison, sinking deep into her mind, poisoning her thoughts.

“Don’t touch me,” she hissed.

But Shanks wasn’t deterred. He moved closer, his presence suffocating. His hand came to rest against the wall next to her head, trapping her in place.

“Don’t worry,” he murmured, his lips inches from her ear. “I’m not going to force you. Not yet. But I’ll have you eventually. You’ll see.”

Saram shuddered, every instinct screaming at her to fight, to escape, to break free from the hold he had over her. But she knew, deep down, that there was no way out. Not yet. Not until she found a way to turn the tables on him.

Saram’s heart hammered against her chest as Shanks moved closer, his eyes gleaming with that same, unsettling confidence that always made her skin crawl. Every step he took felt like a step toward inevitability.

“Come on,” he said, voice smooth and commanding, “it’s late. We both need sleep.” His tone was casual, as if it were the most normal thing in the world to force her into his bed with him.

“No,” she hissed, her voice shaking with anger. She wasn’t going to let him get away with this. Not again. “I’m not sleeping in your bed.”

Shanks' lips curled into a wicked smile, and he reached out, grabbing her by the wrist with surprising gentleness, his grip firm but not painful. “You’ll get used to it,” he murmured, his voice low, teasing. “Besides, you don’t really have a choice, do you?”

Before she could pull away, his other hand was at her waist, his fingers brushing against the curve of her hip as he guided her toward the bed. Saram's breath hitched, her body tense with the growing proximity, but she didn’t give him the satisfaction of begging him to stop.

“You’re a goddamn menace,” she spat, trying to twist out of his hold, but he only tightened his grip.

Shanks’ chuckle echoed in her ears, dark and low. “You really think you can fight me, Saram?” he asked, his fingers tracing along her side as he gently pushed her onto the bed. “I’m not asking you to fight, love. Just… surrender. For tonight.”

Saram felt her heart sink as he climbed in beside her, his movements slow and deliberate, as though savoring every second of her discomfort. She pulled the covers tightly around her, making sure to keep as much space between them as possible. But Shanks, of course, had other plans.

He shifted closer, the heat of his body radiating against hers. His hand settled over her waist, the pressure light but unyielding. “I don’t bite,” he murmured in her ear, though the possessiveness in his voice suggested otherwise. “Unless you make me.”

Saram’s skin prickled as his hand slid a little lower, brushing just below her ribcage. She tried to jerk away, but he was too quick, his fingers sliding further down her side.

“Stop it, Shanks,” she growled, her voice barely above a whisper, but the threat in her tone was unmistakable. “I’m not your plaything.”

Shanks only chuckled again, this time more menacingly. “No, you're not my plaything.” His hand moved again, this time caressing the small of her back before his fingers slipped dangerously low along her spine. “But you are mine. I’m just getting you used to the idea.”

Her entire body tensed, the fight within her burning hot and furious. She was fighting a losing battle. She couldn’t shake off the way his hands felt on her, even if it was nothing more than his touch pressing against the thin fabric of her clothes. The possessive glint in his eyes made her stomach churn. Every small touch, every movement, was a reminder that he wasn’t going to stop. He was just getting started.

Saram held her breath, trying to ignore the way his thumb brushed lazily along her waist, his hand resting heavy and possessive on her hip.

Shanks, sensing her tension, leaned in close, his breath warm against her ear. “You don’t have to fight this,” he whispered. “I’m not going to hurt you. I’ll take care of you, but you need to stop pushing me away.”

“You don’t have to take care of me,” she snapped, her voice shaky, and she tried to shove his hand off her hip. But he simply held it there, steady and unyielding.

He tilted his head, his lips grazing the edge of her ear as he chuckled darkly. “I’m not letting you go, Saram,” he said softly, his tone just barely above a whisper. “Not now. Not ever.”

She swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his words settle in the pit of her stomach like a stone. He wasn’t playing, and worse, he wasn’t backing down.

“You don’t control me,” she muttered, but it sounded less convincing than she would have liked. She could feel the heat of his body against hers, the warmth of his breath, and the pressure of his hand on her hip. Every time she tried to move away, he simply pulled her closer.

Shanks leaned back, still holding her tightly. “Maybe not yet,” he said softly, but his voice was filled with promise. “But you will, eventually. You’ll see.”

She couldn’t deny the shiver that ran down her spine at the finality of his words. There was something terrifying about the way he spoke, like he knew exactly what was coming—like he had already won.

For now, she didn’t know how to fight him anymore. She could feel the tension, the raw, oppressive weight of it all, pressing in on her. And when she finally closed her eyes to block him out, her body still tense under his touch, she couldn’t escape the truth.

She was trapped. Trapped in his bed. Trapped in his world.

The night stretched on, heavy and thick, like a fog that smothered her every thought. Saram lay there in silence, Shanks' hand still resting on her hip, the warmth of his touch seeping through the thin fabric of her clothes. No matter how much she tried to focus on the steady, rhythmic creak of the ship or the distant sound of waves crashing against the hull, his presence remained suffocating, inescapable.

She could feel his breath on her neck, soft but deliberate, as if he was savoring the fact that she was there—with him, no longer a defiant stranger, but something far more personal.

Saram gritted her teeth, struggling to keep her emotions in check. She refused to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much his proximity affected her. He was testing her, pushing her to the brink, and she was determined not to let him see that he was winning.

But Shanks wasn’t the type to let things go. His grip tightened on her waist, and he tugged her closer, pulling her back until her back was pressed against his chest. The sudden pressure startled her, but before she could move, his arm was wrapped firmly around her waist, keeping her there.

“You don’t have to resist,” he murmured, his lips brushing against the back of her neck. The touch was almost gentle, a stark contrast to the intensity of his words. “I’m not going to hurt you, Saram. You don’t have to keep fighting me.”

Saram’s fists clenched, nails digging into her palms. She hated how his words sounded so sincere, like he was doing her a favor, like he was the only one who understood what was best for her. But beneath it all, she knew the truth. He wasn’t saving her. He was breaking her down, piece by piece, until she had nothing left to hold onto.

“You’re not my savior, Shanks,” she spat, her voice strained with a mixture of anger and frustration. “You’re just a tyrant in disguise.”

Shanks chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against her skin, and for a moment, his grip on her loosened just enough for her to consider escape. But then his fingers brushed the back of her neck, slow and deliberate, sending a jolt of heat racing through her body.

“Maybe,” he mused, his voice low and dangerous. “But you’re here with me, aren’t you? Willingly.” He paused for a beat, letting the words hang in the air between them. “You might not admit it, but I can feel it, Saram. You’re not as opposed to me as you pretend to be.”

She felt her breath catch in her throat, her pulse quickening. It was like he could see straight through her defenses, straight into the heart of her deepest fears and desires. She hated how much he understood her, how easily he read her every move. It made her feel exposed, vulnerable, and she could already feel the walls she had carefully built around herself begin to crumble.

“No,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, but filled with a cold edge. “I’m not here because I want to be. I’m here because I have no choice. You’ve made sure of that.”

Shanks was quiet for a moment, and Saram could almost feel the amusement radiating off him. Then, his hand moved again, this time sliding slowly down her side, his fingers trailing a path along her ribs before resting on her hip once more.

“I’ve made sure of nothing,” he replied, his voice hushed but firm. “You’re here because you need to be, Saram. You’re here because you understand what will happen if you try to leave.”

Her breath hitched again, and she could feel the anger rising in her chest. The helplessness that clawed at her throat was suffocating, and she struggled to keep it under control.

“I will leave,” she said, her words cold and steady despite the chaos inside her. “One day, I’ll get out of this. You can’t hold me forever.”

Shanks’ laughter rang out, soft but undeniably mocking. He shifted closer still, pressing his chest against her back, his breath warm against her ear as he spoke.

“You are my prisoner, Saram, my wife,” he whispered. “I’m not worried about you leaving. I’m worried about when you’ll stop pretending that you don’t want to be here. When you’ll stop fighting and realize that everything you need is right here, in my arms.”

Saram stiffened, her teeth gritted as she struggled to ignore the way his words slipped under her skin like poison. He was playing a dangerous game, making her question her own resolve. But she refused to let him break her. She couldn’t let him win.

“I’m not some damsel in distress, Shanks,” she growled, her voice sharp. “I’m not your toy to control.”

Shanks sighed, his breath hot against her neck. “You keep saying that,” he murmured, almost in mock sympathy. “But deep down, you know you’re wrong.” He paused, and she could feel the smile tug at his lips. “You’ll see. Eventually. You’ll see what happens when you stop fighting me.”

Saram’s mind raced, her heart pounding in her chest as she tried to figure out how to escape this. But for now, all she could do was lay there in his arms, utterly trapped, knowing that the night was far from over.

She hated him, and yet, she couldn’t escape him. And the worst part? A small part of her, the part she hated the most, wanted to stay.

He still remembered the day he first met her.

The salty breeze of the open sea carried a sense of freedom, a lightness in the air that always made Shanks feel like he could conquer anything. The Red-Haired Pirates had docked on a small, quiet island—a place filled with quiet townsfolk and hidden beauty, far from the chaos of the Grand Line's larger ports. It was the perfect place to rest, re-supply, and spend a few days enjoying the simplicity of life.

That was the day he first saw her.

It wasn’t like anything he had ever imagined. He had no grand expectations, no knowledge of who she was or what she might become to him. She was just another face in the crowd. At least, that’s what he told himself, the ever-determined pirate captain whose heart had long since been tempered by a thousand battles.

He had been strolling along the quiet dock, a tankard of ale in his hand and a carefree grin plastered across his face, when the sight of a flash of silver hair caught his attention. It was nothing unusual at first—there were always people walking along the docks—but there was something about the way she moved. It wasn’t just the grace in her steps or the way her eyes scanned the sea like she had secrets to share with the horizon. It was the intensity in her gaze, the quiet strength that seemed to radiate from her very being.

She was standing by the railing, her arms crossed over her chest, and she seemed... untouchable. As if the world around her didn’t quite matter. She was looking out to sea, but in the brief moment their eyes locked, Shanks felt something shift inside him. Something that made him stop dead in his tracks.

It wasn’t the usual flirtation or fascination he was used to feeling when meeting someone new. No, this was different. It was softer, almost... like a pull from somewhere deep inside him, a quiet voice whispering that this moment meant more than it appeared.

Her eyes, stormy and full of quiet defiance, held his for a moment longer than was usual, and then, with a slight tilt of her head, she broke the gaze and turned back toward the horizon.

He wasn’t sure what it was, but something in that moment felt like the world had tilted slightly. The sound of the waves seemed a little quieter, the chatter of his crew just a little more distant. In the middle of that bustling port town, with so much life happening around him, she was the only thing that mattered. She was the only thing that existed.

He found himself drawn to her, stepping closer, as if some invisible force was guiding him. He didn’t even have to think twice about it. She was standing alone, so confidently and yet so detached from the world, and he... couldn’t resist. There was no hesitation in his step as he approached her.

“Beautiful day, isn’t it?” he called out, his voice light and friendly, his usual grin wide. He was still unsure of what exactly compelled him to speak, but he couldn’t stop himself.

Saram didn’t turn to him immediately, her eyes still fixed on the vast ocean in front of them, as though trying to understand it. But after a moment, she gave a slight nod. “It’s peaceful,” she replied in a tone that suggested she wasn’t quite addressing him, but rather the world itself.

For a brief moment, Shanks thought she wouldn’t say anything else, that she might simply dismiss him, as most people did. But then she finally turned her head toward him, her eyes locking onto his, and the world around them seemed to disappear.

Her gaze was piercing, unyielding, and yet, there was a softness to it—a vulnerability tucked beneath that hard exterior. Her silver hair fluttered slightly in the wind, and for a moment, she looked almost ethereal, as if she didn’t belong to the world at all.

“I’m Shanks,” he introduced himself, his usual confidence returning, though this time, his voice was a bit gentler than usual.

“I know,” she replied, her eyes never leaving his. Her lips curved into the smallest of smiles, a rare thing. “I’ve heard about you.”

Shanks was taken aback for a second, and he laughed softly, the sound almost like an echo in the silence between them. “I hope it’s all good things,” he said, a little self-deprecating, though he wasn’t sure why.

Her smile grew just the slightest bit. “You’re a pirate. I’m sure some people like you. Some don’t.”

He chuckled again, the tension between them suddenly lifting, and for a moment, they stood there together, side by side, each lost in the same view. The sun was low on the horizon now, casting golden light across the water, and everything felt still and right.

But there was something else he noticed, something that surprised him even more than the connection he felt with her. She hadn’t been scared or defensive with him. She hadn’t turned away or looked down in an attempt to distance herself from him, like so many others had done in his past. No, she had stood her ground, and in her quiet presence, he found something that spoke to him in a way nothing else ever had.

Saram wasn’t like anyone he had ever met. She wasn’t impressed by his fame, nor did she fawn over him like many others did. She simply was. And for Shanks, that was the most intoxicating thing of all.

As the wind swept through their hair, and the sun dipped beneath the horizon, he knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that this was the beginning of something he couldn’t fully understand, but that he couldn’t let slip away.

The pirate captain who had always lived for the thrill of adventure, for the joy of sailing the seas, now found himself wondering if the greatest adventure of all might be standing right in front of him.

And somehow, in a way he never expected, he had already fallen.

The soft creak of the ship’s wooden planks was the only sound that broke the stillness of the night. Shanks lay on his back, staring at the ceiling of the dimly lit room, the weight of everything pressing down on him in a way he wasn’t used to. The steady rise and fall of Saram’s chest next to him was a reminder that things were far from simple, and his heart felt heavy, a knot tightening deep inside his chest.

He turned his head to the side, his gaze falling on her. She had fallen asleep in his arms, exhausted by the endless battles, both physical and emotional, that had been waged between them. Her body was still, but her face—her face was anything but peaceful.

Even in sleep, she looked restless, as though she couldn’t find a moment of true peace. Her brow was furrowed, and the softest of frowns tugged at her lips. But it was the tears that caught his attention—tears that had slipped from her closed eyes and stained the pillow beneath her.

Shanks felt something stir inside him, something that felt dangerous and unfamiliar. He didn’t like seeing her like this—vulnerable, exposed, broken in a way he hadn’t thought possible. It gnawed at him, that sense of helplessness, the knowledge that he was the one who had caused this.

His hand hovered over her face for a moment before he moved with slow, deliberate care. His fingers brushed the damp trail of a tear from her cheek, feeling the warmth of it on his skin. His heart squeezed, a twinge of guilt lancing through him. It was hard to reconcile the woman who fought him tooth and nail with the one who now lay beside him, her emotions raw and unguarded in her sleep.

He wasn’t used to this. He wasn’t used to feeling this… soft. To wanting to protect someone who constantly pushed him away.

But that feeling was there, undeniable. And as he wiped the last of the tears away, he realized that he didn’t want to see her like this anymore. He didn’t want her to cry, didn’t want to be the cause of her pain. For all the walls she’d built around herself, for all the stubbornness and defiance, there was still something fragile beneath it all.

Something that he, ironically, was starting to care about.

Saram shifted slightly in her sleep, her body instinctively curling toward him as if she knew he was there, offering warmth and protection without even realizing it. Shanks didn’t fight the urge to pull her closer. He wrapped his arm around her, bringing her against his chest, and for a moment, he allowed himself to enjoy the softness of the moment.

Her head rested lightly on his shoulder, her breath soft and steady now, as if she had finally found some semblance of rest. He could feel the warmth of her body, the slight tremors that still lingered from her earlier distress, and it made his chest tighten with an unfamiliar ache.

He stared down at her, his heart a strange mixture of tenderness and something darker. He knew the road ahead wasn’t going to be easy—not by any stretch of the imagination. She would fight him every step of the way, and he had no illusions about that.

But in this quiet moment, with her in his arms, the world seemed a little less complicated. He wasn’t the pirate captain feared by all, and she wasn’t the woman who despised him. They were just two people, sharing a fleeting moment of peace amidst the chaos they both carried inside them.

Shanks kissed the top of her head softly, his lips brushing her hair, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he let himself simply breathe. The weight of the world was still there, hanging over them both, but for now, he would allow himself to feel this—this fragile, complicated connection between them.

And perhaps, in the morning, everything would return to the chaos of their rivalry. But for now, he would hold her close, as though she belonged to him, as though she was finally where she was meant to be.

In his arms.

[kentochronicles]

A Blade Between Us

Suguru Geto x Reader

Genre: Angst

A/N: It’s my birthday, so here’s a little birthday post!! Thank you to @empower-bi-women and @imm0rtalbutterfly for beta reading for me, it means a lot!! Enjoy lovelies and as always likes, comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated 🩵

The rain was relentless, but Suguru didn’t mind. It dulled the noise in his head, a constant reminder of everything he’d lost. He stood alone on the empty street, watching droplets streak down from the grey sky, washing over the world as if it could cleanse it.

But no amount of rain could wash away what he’d done.

Suguru’s thoughts wandered, as they always did when he allowed himself to pause. They went first to the faces of those he’d left behind. Satoru’s sharp laugh, the way he used to grin like they had all the time in the world. Shoko, rolling her eyes at their antics but always there with her quiet understanding. Yaga, who had done his best to guide them, even when Suguru’s ideals veered into dangerous territory.

And then there was you. Always you.

You haunted him the most.

He wondered if you hated him now. You had every right to. When he left, he thought he was doing the right thing—breaking free of the chains tying him to a world he couldn’t save. He told himself it would be easier if he severed ties with you, too. That you’d be better off without him, without the destruction and darkness his path would bring.

But the memory of your voice, the way you had begged him to stay, still tore at him. He thought cutting you off would spare you the pain of watching him become something unrecognisable.

Instead, it seemed he’d only broken the one person who had made him feel like he could be whole.

The sound of footsteps pulled him from his thoughts, sharp and deliberate in the rain. His hand instinctively hovered over the curses at his command, but then he heard a voice he hadn’t dared hope for—or feared—since the day he walked away.

“Turn around, Suguru.”

He turned slowly, heart tightening as he saw you.

You stood there, soaked to the bone, but your eyes burned with fury and something deeper—something fractured.

“So it’s you,” he said, his voice quieter than he intended.

“Don’t say it like I’m just someone,” you snapped, your voice like a blade cutting through the rain.

You were trembling, but your resolve was unshaken. He could see it in the way you gripped the blade in your hand, the way your jaw tightened as if holding back a scream.

“I loved you,” you spat, the venom in your voice making his chest ache. “I trusted you. And then you—” Your words faltered, your voice cracking. “You left me. You betrayed all of us. Do you even understand what you’ve done?”

“I didn’t betray you,” Suguru said softly, though the words felt hollow even to him.

“You abandoned me!” you shouted, stepping closer. The rain streaked down your face, mingling with tears he knew you didn’t want him to see. “Did I mean so little to you that you could just walk away? Without a word, without—” You shook your head, your voice trembling with anguish. “Without fighting for me?”

His throat tightened. He wanted to tell you he had fought for you—fought with himself, over and over, before making the decision to leave. But what good were words now?

“I didn’t want you to get hurt,” he murmured.

“How noble of you,” you hissed, stepping closer still. The blade in your hand was steady now, its tip pressing against his chest. “Do you even know what you’ve done to me? Do you know how many times I wished I could hate you, only to realise I’m still—”

Your voice broke again, and the pain in it shattered what little composure he had left.

“If you hate me that much,” he said, his voice low, “then do it. Kill me.”

Your eyes widened. He stood completely still, offering no resistance as the blade pressed harder against his chest. He could feel its sharp point through the fabric of his robes, but the weight in your gaze was far more devastating.

“Go on,” he urged, his voice barely audible over the rain. “End it. If that’s what you need to do—”

“I hate you,” you whispered, the blade trembling in your grip. Tears fell freely now, and you let out a choked sob as the weapon clattered to the ground.

“I hate you for making me feel like this,” you continued, your voice cracking with every word. “I hate you for leaving. And I hate you even more because I can’t stop loving you.”

The storm inside him broke as you stumbled back, your knees buckling beneath you. He moved without thinking, catching you before you could fall.

Your hands fisted in his robes, clutching at him like you were trying to hold him together even as he was the one who had broken you.

“I never stopped loving you,” Suguru confessed, the words tumbling out unbidden. They felt like a wound torn open, a truth he could no longer keep buried.

You sobbed into his chest, and he held you as tightly as he dared, as if letting go would break both of you completely. For a moment, he let himself believe that holding you like this could be enough.

But it wasn’t.

You pulled away first, your hands lingering on his robes for a moment before you forced yourself to let go.

“I can’t do this,” you choked out, stepping back. “I can’t keep loving someone who’s already gone.”

Your words hit him harder than any curse ever could.

When you looked up at him, your eyes were filled with anguish, but there was something else too—something final.

“You’re not the man I loved anymore, Suguru. That man is dead.”

He wanted to argue, to tell you he was still here, still him. But the truth was undeniable. You were right.

The man you loved had died the day he chose this path.

You turned and walked away, each step like a knife twisting in his chest. He stood frozen, the rain soaking through his robes, his hand half-raised as if to reach for you.

But he didn’t call out. He didn’t move.

He let you go.

And as your figure disappeared into the rain, Suguru realised something he had been running from all along:

Losing you wasn’t the cost of his ideals.

It was the cost of his soul.

[starclancy]

soulmate au! maybe imagine she works alongside the marines and the newspaper. she takes the bounty pictures! (I heard someone say this idea before, it sounds so good!) she hears about the chaos happening in Alabasta and she’s dispatched to go see what’s up (collect info for the paper, maybe snap a photo or two). That’s when she meets the strawhats, and in turn, zoro! she’s in shock. Zoro is in shock. The strawhats are in shock! Now imagine that she’s deeply loyal to the marines (maybe comes from a marine family like luffys). Not loyal that she’s mean and hostile as soon as she meets the pirates (I can imagine that it would make her job more difficult if so), but wary enough to everyone knows where her loyalties lie. I cant figure out what more to add to this, so I’d like to hear your thoughts!

Tysm for this ask I love it!!

~ Calming Melody ~

PAIRING: Reader/Zoro

CONTENTS: tbh idk

WORDCOUNT: 1578

Request status: Open (PLS)

The midday sun blazed mercilessly over the desert city of Alubarna, its golden sands shimmering like molten glass. Y/N adjusted the brim of her hat, squinting as she scanned the chaos through the lens of her camera. The reports had been right: Alabasta was a powder keg ready to explode. Crocodile and his Baroque Works agents were playing puppet masters, and the city was their stage. The Marines had sent her to document the unfolding events, but Y/N could already tell this was no ordinary mission.

From her perch on a crumbling rooftop, she watched as a group of figures dashed through the narrow streets below. Even without the distinctive hat, the rubbery limbs of the one in the lead gave him away: Monkey D. Luffy. The Straw Hat Pirates. Her orders were clear—document, don't engage—but curiosity tugged at her. Raising her camera, she adjusted the focus and began snapping shots.

The Straw Hats were nothing like she had expected. Their movements were coordinated, their resolve palpable. They weren't here for plunder; they were fighting for something bigger. But it wasn’t until her lens caught a glimpse of green that her hands faltered. A swordsman stood at the center of the action, his twin blades glinting in the sunlight as he struck down one of Crocodile’s lackeys. His focus was unshakable, his presence commanding—and when he glanced upward, their eyes locked.

It hit her like a thunderclap. Time seemed to slow as a surge of heat bloomed in her chest, her breath catching in her throat. Her hands trembled, the camera lowering slightly as she tried to process the wave of emotion washing over her. Zoro’s expression shifted, his brows furrowing in confusion as he stared back at her. She wasn’t sure how long they remained like that, caught in an invisible thread neither of them could untangle, before reality snapped back into focus.

“Zoro, what are you doing?” Luffy’s voice jolted him. The swordsman broke eye contact, his gaze darting to his captain.

“Nothing,” Zoro muttered, though his grip on his swords tightened. His gaze flickered back to the rooftop, but Y/N had already ducked behind cover, heart pounding in her chest.

“No way,” she whispered to herself, clutching her camera. Her rational mind tried to dismiss the moment as a fluke, but deep down, she knew better. The stories of soulmates—the unexplainable bond, the undeniable pull—weren't just tales for the superstitious. What just happened couldn’t be anything else.

She peeked over the edge again, watching as the crew regrouped. They were speaking hurriedly, though their words were lost in the cacophony of the battle around them. Her focus lingered on Zoro. He looked unsettled, his movements less fluid than before, as though something was weighing on his mind.

Her radio crackled to life. “Y/N, report. Do you have eyes on the Straw Hats?”

She hesitated. “Yes,” she replied, her voice steadier than she felt. “They’re… engaged with Baroque Works operatives. No sign of Crocodile yet.”

“Good. Keep your distance and continue to observe. HQ wants detailed intel on their movements.”

“Understood.”

She clipped the radio back to her belt, her mind racing. Her loyalty to the Marines had never wavered before. She came from a family steeped in service; her parents had devoted their lives to the cause of justice. Yet, as she watched the Straw Hats fight not for themselves but for the people of Alabasta, doubt began to creep in. These were not the bloodthirsty criminals her superiors painted them to be.

A sudden shout drew her attention. A group of Baroque Works agents had cornered the Straw Hats. Y/N’s fingers moved instinctively, snapping photos as the crew sprang into action. Zoro stepped forward, his swords gleaming as he prepared to take on the largest of the attackers. Despite herself, she couldn’t look away.

The fight was over in moments, Zoro emerging victorious. As the dust settled, he turned sharply, his eyes scanning the rooftops. When they landed on her, her heart skipped a beat. He didn’t say anything, but his expression spoke volumes: he’d seen her, and he wasn’t going to forget it.

“Hey, Zoro,” Luffy called, “who’s that?”

“No idea,” Zoro replied, though the look on his face betrayed him.

“She’s taking pictures,” Nami observed, her tone wary. “Could be a Marine.”

“She doesn’t look hostile,” Sanji chimed in, a flirtatious grin already forming. “Maybe she’s a fan of mine.”

“Idiot,” Zoro muttered, sheathing his swords. But he didn’t argue further. Instead, he kept his eyes on the rooftop where she stood, an unspoken challenge in his gaze.

Y/N’s grip tightened on her camera. She knew she should leave, retreat to a safe distance and radio in her findings. Yet something rooted her to the spot. For the first time in her career, her duty to the Marines felt at odds with something deeper, something she didn’t fully understand yet. One thing was certain: this was far from over.

The Straw Hats moved quickly, disappearing into the labyrinth of Alubarna’s streets. Y/N let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. She needed to get back to her base of operations and figure out her next steps.

But the connection lingered. The way Zoro had looked at her, the way her heart had seemed to recognize him—it all felt too real. Too personal.

By the time she descended from the rooftop, the streets had quieted somewhat, though tension still hung heavy in the air. Her camera bag bounced against her hip as she made her way through the alleys, careful to avoid drawing attention. She needed to think, to process everything that had just happened.

Her radio crackled again. “Y/N, update. What’s your position?”

“Heading back to base,” she replied. “The Straw Hats are moving through the city. I’ll upload photos and notes shortly.”

“Roger that. Keep an eye out for Crocodile’s movements. We’ll need your intel to plan our next move.”

“Understood,” she said, her voice steady despite the storm of emotions beneath the surface.

As she rounded a corner, her thoughts were interrupted by a voice.

“Hey, you.”

She froze, her hand instinctively going to her camera. Turning slowly, she found herself face-to-face with none other than Zoro. He stood a few paces away, his swords still at his sides but his presence no less imposing.

“You’ve been following us,” he said, his tone low and even. “Why?”

Y/N’s mind raced. She couldn’t reveal her ties to the Marines, not yet. “I’m a photographer,” she said carefully. “I document stories. And you… you’re part of one.”

He didn’t look convinced. “That so?”

“Yes,” she said, meeting his gaze despite the nervous flutter in her chest. “You’re fighting against Crocodile, aren’t you?”

Zoro’s eyes narrowed. “What’s it to you?”

She hesitated, choosing her words carefully. “I want to know the truth. And I think you do too.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The weight of the moment hung between them, the unspoken connection thrumming like a heartbeat.

Finally, Zoro sighed. “Stay out of the way,” he said, turning to leave. “And don’t do anything stupid.”

The final confrontation with Crocodile was a maelstrom of chaos. Y/N had tried to keep her distance, sticking to the outskirts of the battle to capture the truth on film. But when the Straw Hats engaged Baroque Works’ forces with unrelenting determination, she found herself drawn closer, her camera forgotten as the fight reached its peak.

The palace was in shambles. Crocodile stood in the center of the destruction, his confidence unshaken even as Luffy challenged him with fiery resolve. Y/N could only watch, torn between her Marine training and the undeniable bravery of the Straw Hats.

When Crocodile unleashed a devastating sandstorm toward the group, Y/N’s body moved on instinct. She sprinted forward, throwing herself into the fray to pull a wounded civilian out of harm’s way. She didn’t even register the danger she was in until she felt a strong grip on her arm, yanking her back to safety.

It was Zoro.

“Are you insane?” he barked, his face inches from hers. “You’re going to get yourself killed!”

“I couldn’t just stand there,” she shot back, her voice trembling.

He stared at her, his expression a mix of exasperation and something she couldn’t quite place. “You’re either the bravest Marine I’ve met or the dumbest. Maybe both.”

Before she could respond, Luffy let out a triumphant yell. The battle had shifted. With one final, earth-shaking blow, Crocodile was defeated, and the nightmare that had gripped Alabasta came to an end.

The Straw Hats departed Alabasta quietly, slipping away before the Marines could arrive in full force. Y/N stood on the docks, watching their ship fade into the horizon. Her camera hung around her neck, but she hadn’t taken a single photo of their departure.

She felt a presence beside her and turned to see Tashigi, her superior officer. “You didn’t report everything you saw, did you?” Tashigi asked, her tone neutral.

Y/N hesitated, then shook her head. “No. Not everything.”

Tashigi’s gaze lingered on her for a moment before she nodded. “Sometimes justice isn’t as black and white as we’re taught.”

As the Marine ships arrived to restore order, Y/N’s thoughts remained with the Straw Hats, particularly Zoro. The connection they’d felt—brief but undeniable—left her questioning everything she’d believed.

She didnt know what to do next.

[hazyange1s]

⟢ 𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒔.

Sebastian Sallow is cursed.

For once, it’s by no fault of his own — tragedy, as it so happens, runs through his veins.

In 1348, a powerful wizard and well-known scholar named Alexander Sallow lived with his sister, Evelyn, in the South of England. Evelyn, who had always been a sickly child to begin with, became afflicted with the Black Death, and none of the Healers had been able to cure her. But she was all Alexander had, and she him, so he promised her while she lay on her death bed that he would not allow her to die.

He tried all manner of spells, potions, and miracles to save her. When all hope seemed lost, Alexander kneeled at his sister’s side, begging Death to spare her.

And Death answered.

“I will let her remain here a while longer,” he promised. “But to right the balance, you understand that I am owed a debt. A life for a life.”

And so, in his desperation, Alexander agreed to offer up his own.

However, he was just arrogant enough to ask for a small concession — that he be granted enough time to get his affairs in order first. Then, he would willingly depart the earth with Death.

But shortly after Evelyn was healed, he began to regret his choice…and sought a way to escape such a fate.

He had few options, though the simplest seemed to also be the most harrowing, for he knew its price. Still, he had made a deal with Death, and nobody escaped from Death without risking everything. Alexander had never been the sort to shy away from doing what needed to be done. Resolved to be cursed rather than dead, he killed a wild unicorn and took its blood, becoming immortal the moment it touched his lips.

Death appeared instantly. Furious, he admonished the wizard for going back on their bargain, cursing Alexander and any descendants he would have in His betrayal-fueled rage.

Evelyn was gone by the next sunrise.

Every Sallow since has been shackled to a tragic fate: some have been cursed, others afflicted with incurable illnesses from birth, and many have met with sudden accidents. But it all ends the same way — with Death.

Furthermore, every first born male of the Sallow line (as Alexander was the first of his family centuries ago) is doomed to repeat the mistakes of their forebears. Many have succumbed to the pull of dark magic, as he did, and all have had a special relationship with Death.

He haunts them still, even hundreds of years later. Fueled by his vendetta against a now-dead man (it turns out immortality isn’t as black and white as one may think), Death visits the Sallow males often, effectively making them beacons of loss and tragedy.

For the symbol of the Sallows is the willow, whose branches brush tombstones and signify grief and mourning…while also reminding us of the endurance of family, of the strength and magic of love, and how it can overcome even Death.

So goes the story of Sebastian Alexander Sallow.

[fandomfablesunleashed]

Nap

Ace x reader (she/her)

Chapter 11 of And they were roommates - Modern AU series

I was kind of on the fence about whether to post this chapter or leave it out of the story. But as I expanded on it, I realized that these smaller moments are important in their own right, and sometimes a little extra fluff is exactly what’s needed (especially since the angst is coming soon…) 🤭

In the days after the party, you had every intention of addressing Ace’s strange behavior. But when you saw him again, he was back to his usual self. Maybe he wasn't lying when he said he was just tired that day. You pondered about it as you watched him approach the coach for your usual movie night.

As you sat on the couch, waiting for your usual movie night to start, you found yourself studying him. Ace strolled over with a bowl of popcorn in hand, a lopsided grin on his face as he teased you about your questionable movie choices. He flopped onto the couch beside you, his demeanor so casual and familiar that it almost erased the oddness of that night. Almost.

Maybe it really was nothing. Maybe you’d read too much into things. Still, a small part of you couldn’t help but wonder if there was something he wasn’t telling you.

 “Man, today was exhausting,” he sighed, grabbing the remote.

You couldn’t help but smile as he settled beside you, the familiar warmth of his presence drawing you in as usual. “Thankfully, we can just sit back and relax now.” 

“Finally,” he mumbled, leaning back and closing his eyes for a moment. “I’ve been looking forward to this all day.” His voice was a low murmur, his attention gradually shifting from you to the flickering movie screen.

As the film rolled on, you found yourself sneaking glances at him more than paying attention to the plot. His eyelids drooped, fighting the inevitable, and the way he struggled to stay awake was both amusing and undeniably adorable. He was obviously enjoying the movie, but exhaustion seemed to overpower his resolve.

You chuckled softly to yourself, unable to resist the smile creeping across your face. It was cute to see him wrestling with sleep, a part of you finding delight in his quiet struggle. 

“You’re not going to make it through this movie, are you?”

“Course I am,” he mumbled, though the drowsiness in his voice betrayed him. He shifted slightly, trying to appear more awake as he stifled a yawn, struggling to keep his eyes open for just a little longer. Not long after that, he finally surrendered to the heaviness that enveloped him. 

You continued watching the movie, but your attention slowly shifted. Glancing at him, you felt a warm rush of affection as you observed him sleeping peacefully. There was something about the way he looked so at ease that made your heart flutter just a little at the sight of him, his tousled hair falling into his eyes and framing his handsome face.

His body instinctively searched for comfort, and before you realized it, his head found its way onto your lap, settling there as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Your heart raced even more, warmth flooding your cheeks as you hesitated, unsure of what to do. You could easily brush him off and reclaim your space, but a deep-rooted desire urged you to keep him close.

Slowly, almost without thinking, you allowed your hand to guide him down more comfortably, easing his head fully onto your lap. The moment his cheek rested against you, a soft smile tugged at the corners of your lips. He was out cold, completely unaware of the rapid pace of your heartbeat or the way your fingers trembled slightly as you dared to brush them against his hair.

He looked so peaceful, so comfortable. The warmth in your chest spread, but it quickly shifted into something more complicated. You and Ace were just close friends and roommates; there was no need to complicate things with feelings that could lead only to heartache.

As the movie played on, you felt the weight of the moment grow heavier. His body was relaxed, and he looked perfectly content to lay on you, as if he belonged there. And that thought—that dangerous, heart-fluttering thought—made your pulse quicken. You tried to shake it off, tried to convince yourself it was just the closeness, just the late hour messing with your head. But your heart told a different story. It reminded you of the feelings that were there before you even started living together. 

Time slipped by, and before you knew it, the credits began to roll, pulling you back to reality. Your legs had begun to ache from staying in the same position for so long, but you hesitated to wake him, not wanting to disturb him. Finally, you sighed softly, your fingers lightly brushing through his hair one last time before you gently shook him, trying to wake him without jarring him too much.

“Ace…”

He groaned in response, a sleepy mumble escaping his lips. “Hmm...?” His eyes opened slowly, adjusting to the dim light as he began to realize where he was—and more importantly, how close he was to you.

“Oh... uh, sorry,” he murmured, sitting up abruptly, embarrassment clouding his expression as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. His face was still flushed.

“It’s okay,” you replied quickly, your voice a little too bright as you tried to defuse the tension. “You were dozing off anyway.” But as you said the words, you couldn’t ignore the sudden emptiness you felt without his warmth pressing against you.

Ace chuckled softly, still not quite meeting your eyes. “Didn’t realize how tired I was,” he muttered, running a hand through his already-messy hair. He looked flustered, but there was a softness to his expression that made you smile involuntarily, despite the quiet tension hanging between you.

You shook your head, attempting to deflect your own flustered feelings. “Did the movie bore you that much?” You teased, trying to keep your voice light and playful to mask how much his small nap on you made you feel.

He rolled his eyes, the familiar playful spark returning to his gaze. “Shut up,” he shot back, his lips curving into a small smile. “It was actually pretty good.”

You let out a laugh, your heart racing a little as the teasing banter did little to cool the warmth you still felt from earlier. “Sure, sure,” you grinned, noticing his still-flushed cheeks.

He chuckled softly, the sound tugging an even bigger smile from you. “I’ll just watch the rest when you put it on again for me,” he said, his tone light, but there was a hint of something more—a quiet hesitation, like he was testing the waters.

“Oh, really now?” you replied, raising your eyebrows. “What’s in it for me?” You flashed him a playful grin, your mind racing, scrambling to keep the situation from slipping into dangerous territory. You were balancing on a tightrope, desperate to maintain the friend zone you both had crafted so carefully over the months. Yet, there was a part of you—an undeniable part—that didn’t want to stay there.

Ace leaned in just a little closer, and you could feel the shift in the air. His eyes sparkled with that familiar mischief, the kind that always had a way of disarming you, but there was something else in his gaze too—something deeper, softer.  “Everything for my favorite roommate,” he said, the teasing edge in his voice undercut by a note of sincerity that sent an unexpected thrill down your spine.

You rolled your eyes, trying to deflect, “I’m your only roommate.” You retorted, a weak attempt to keep the banter alive, but your voice felt thin, the playful edge fraying as your mind spun with excitement you hadn’t been prepared to face.

Yet, in the depths of your mind, you couldn’t shake the significance of his words. Favorite. My favorite. Those words ignited a full rage of emotions within you. The butterflies that had once felt like a light flutter were now a full tempest, wild and insistent.

For a moment, time seemed to slow, the teasing smiles and playful banter giving way to a comfortable silence. The familiar warmth of Ace beside you made the room feel cozier, and you couldn’t help but think about how, just by being close, he could make your world so much brighter. His shoulder brushed against yours as he leaned in slightly—casual yet close enough to remind you how effortless everything always felt with him.

“I mean it,” he said, his voice soft but steady, the hint of a smile still in his eyes. “You really are my favorite.”  This time, you couldn’t help but notice how he didn’t add roommate to the sentence.

“Roommate?” you asked, managing a small, teasing smile to keep things light and ensure your feelings stayed hidden, as they should.

“Just favorite,” he replied simply.

The words hung in the air, simple yet charged, and your heart swelled in response—the kind of tenderness that felt almost fragile. You wanted to say something, anything, but the emotions storming inside you left you speechless.

The brief pause passed, but something subtle lingered in the air—an undercurrent you couldn’t quite shake. The ease between you slipped back into place, yet now it felt different, as though the edges of your friendship had blurred just a little.

[yb-cringe]

the way qjaiden shows love is so subtle you would barely even see it unless you watched her vods. legit. like i think she and roier are very similar in that they’re not great with being outwardly caring or good with their words so everything is so Minuscule.

like qjaiden is there for Any dodgy conversations that qroier has. she was watching any convos he had go down in case he needed her. she immediately started looking into who ruined the venue. she spots anyone who looks shifty to scope them out. she immediately jumps to his side if he asks and picks him up the second he goes down.

its all just small really quiet things that she doesnt do for others that say So much because she they just dont do compassion and care the way like cellbit does. its not words, it’s action for them.

[ratatatastic]

quite honestly we should have a canadian whos sole job it is to make a finn giggle do pressers together more often just for the chaos

if i had a nickle for everytime this happened id have two nickles which isnt a lot but its weird that it happened twice.

2024 nhl global series finland game 1 postgame interview | 11.1.24 (x)

[jils-things]

to love someone is to heal someone

[isa-ah]

AUGH had just. the hottest idea for 30 smtn isaiah art. and no means to draw it. im going to kermit

[hirazuki]

Hira's year in medical review:

Me, August 2023: *experiencing extreme fatigue, fainting spells, mood swings, sudden and drastic increase of suicidal thoughts, and intense hair loss*

P.A: let's do blood work

Me: ok!

Bloodwork: *normal except for prolactin*

Doctor: sometimes that's a fluke so let's retest

Me: ok

Bloodwork: *exactly the same*

Doctor: your values are higher than normal range, but not high enough to be in range for a pituitary gland tumor.

(P.A: go see an endocrinologist and get an MRI, that might be indicative of a pituitary gland tumor.) <- bless this person and only this person in particular

Endocrinologist, seen earliest available which was January 2024: *wants to retest blood work instead of ordering an MRI*

Me: ... ok

Bloodwork: *the same*

Me: can we please do an MRI now?

Endocrinologist: Well. Your values are above the normal limit, but it's highly unlikely that's it's a pituitary gland tumor because they are not high enough for that. Let's retest blood work in four months.

Me: ...................... ok

Bloodwork, May 2024: *THE SAME*

Endocrinologist: hmm, I recommend an MRI

Me: *gesturing angrily*

MRI, June 2024: 🎉 pituitary gland tumor 🎉

Doctor, when I went in for something else: I doubt your endocrinologist will want to treat that, we typically don't treat adenomas that small

Endocrinologist, who took 3 weeks to review my results: I recommend just monitoring. It's highly unlikely that this is causing your symptoms, it's too small for that.

Me, July 2024: