#faster if world fates drop often

[fooltofancy]

only 450 to go

[adventuringblind]

Not Your Fault

Max Verstappen x Reader x Oscar piastri

Genre: Angst

Summary: Max and Oscar have to comfort their girlfriend who's hospitalized after a major crash.

Dialouge prompt: "It's not your fault"

Warnings: major crash, injury description

Notes: This is part of my 1000 follower celebration! Requests are still open for it if you would like to participate!

Masterlist

"Red flag Max, red flag." Comes GP's voice over the radio.

Something in his stomach dropped at the words. Crashing is a risk they all take every time they get into the car, but that dosen't it isn't hard when it happens.

"Who was it?" His fingers crossed. Silently begging whoever controlled fate that it was neither a McLaren nor a Ferrari. He's not sure he could handle it.

"It's a Ferrari."

"Who?"

"Y/N"

His heart dropped. She'd been called to drive in place of Carlos. The Spainard had caught Covid and was out for the entire triple header. She'd gotten a chance, and now she'd crashed out.

"Is she okay?"

"Max-"

"Is she okay, GP? Please, I need to know." His heart is beating faster then he would’ve liked, but he can’t help it.

“They haven’t gotten a response yet. Ferrari was checking to see the damage on the car but haven’t gotten a response yet-”

“They were checking on the car?!” Max’s blood is boiling as he peels into the pit lane. He rips himself out of the car as marches to where GP and Christian are presumably waiting for him. They look neutral at the moment.

Christian grabs him by the shoulders to stop him from going any further, but it doesn’t matter. The screen is replaying the crash. Something must have happened with the steering and braking because the car just didn’t slow down. It hit the wall at 200 mph. The Ferrari car is stuck in the barriers. The fence having come down on top of her, essentially burying the car underneath.

“Any word yet?” His voice breaks. eye’s still trained on the screen as it shows the Marshalls trying to pull the debris away.

“Still nothing. They lost the onboard footage and can’t see her vitals.”

Max is about to jump into a rant. His anger at Ferrari still boiling. That is - until Lando comes barreling into him. The Brit is out of breath and flushed. “Haven you looked at your phone?”

All three Redbull members stare at him in confusion. Lando looks between them expectantly. “Well somebody better get Max his phone because Oscar is about thirty seconds away from killing everyone in the Ferrari garage.”

Max runs to grab his phone and comes back to Lando who is waiting impatiently for something. Texts from Charles and Carlos about what they know, A missed call from Oscar- “I don’t see anything apart from the usual.”

Land rips the phone out of his hands and pulls up his instagram. Then he find the Ferrari page and and taps on their story. He hands the phone back with sad eyes.

Within the mess or a PR scripted excuse, one thing sticks out to him the most: ‘driver error.’ Max the pulls up Charles’ texts. His hands are shaking with the impending appearance of Mad Max.

Charles gives him the whole story. ‘Don’t believe the story! I saw the data, it was the teams fault.’

“Oscar saw this, didn’t he?”

“Kim, Jon, and Andrea are keeping him confined, but unless you want to be outed to the world I suggest you come help.”

Max looks at the screen. Still no sign of life. The car is still buried.

Then he looks to his team principal for approval. Christian nods and then the two are ducking and dodging cameras.

Oscar isn’t mad often. Rarely, even. He has so much patience for people that Max sometimes wonders where he puts it all.

He found out after the Qatar sprint. Max was getting some nasty hate. It was under every photo Redbull or himself put out. He simply put his phone away and tried not to let it bother him. Their female lover saw but knew better then to start something and decided to, and he quotes, ‘fuck the diets and eat Max’s favorite.’ Which the Dutch had been more then happy to do.

Oscar on the other hand was going to chew out every person who boo’d at max on their way to the hotel. Oscar’s anger comes in the form of harsh words and stupid actions until it turns to wet and it’s like every emotion he’d been stifling hits him all at once. Then it’s all teary eyes a cracked voices.

Max and Lando round the corner and sneak through the back of the McLaren garage. Straight into Oscars room where they are supposed to find him.

He is, in fact, nowhere to be seen.

Max makes a break for the Ferrari garage. He wants to be relieved when he sees the Australian with Charles, but he can’t be because he’s with some of the Ferrari staff as well.

He breaks the circle and sets a, hopefully calming, hand on Oscar’s shoulder. “Any news on her condition?” The men in red shoot him dirty glares as he interrupts whatever they were talking about previously.

“No.”

Okay, rude.

Charles clears his voice. “Actually, me and Oscar were just discussing her condition. They pulled her out of the car - but it doesn’t look good. The FIA might stop the race because of the barrier.”

“Thank you for the update, Charles. We’ll be going now.” Max and Lando have to drag a ver stubborn Oscar away.

They pile into Lando’s room since it’s closer and Oscar collapses. Him and Max almost topple over together. “They said it’s her fault when it’s not!”

“I know. It’s out job to make sure she knows that too. Chewing out Ferrari isn’t going to help.” At the moment, Max can’t help but finish in his head.

They take some time to calm down before heading back out. They are greeted with the news that the race has been cancelled due to the barrier meaning that the two are free to leave.

Which they do, with incredible speed.

She had to be transferred to the hospital. According to the doctor that greets them, she’ll make a full recovery but it will take a while to get there. A few broken bones, some internal bleeding, a concussion, a major gash, but she’s alive. That’s what matters.

Oscar and Max spend the night in her room. The two patiently waiting for her to wake up. Charles had dropped by with Lando to bring them her stuff and see how she’s doing. Max was happy they brought food and Lando actually took to force feeding Oscar.

They wake the next morning to quiet sniffles. Max cracks his eyes open to see her, staring at her cell that Max left on the side table, with tears streaming down her face.

He is up and alert in a second with Oscar coming to slowly. “Schat, talk to me.”

She just hands over her phone without saying anything and Max scrolls through it for a few moments. Apparently Ferrari’s statement went further then he thought. Again, they are playing the blame game.

And no, absolutely not. Max Verstappen is not the kind of man to let her believe this. He turns off the phone and tosses it aside before Oscar can see. He really doesn't need another passive-aggressive Assie incident.

"Charles saw the data. It was the car. It wasn't your fault."

"But everyone is believing it was. How am I supposed to build a career now?" She sobs. The EKG is beeping wildly with her heart.

Oscar, in his sleepy state, switches from leaning on Max to climbing into bed with her. It works like a charm, and she starts to breathe again. It's labored, but it's calming down, at least.

"You'll show them. The data will come out eventually." Oscar mumbles into her shoulder.

"And until then -" Max intertwines hands with both his lovers. "- We'll defend you because we love you."

[puppetwoman17]

Injustice What-If:

The Superman brought to the Injustice universe to battle his evil counterpart returns to his home universe. He’s grateful to see all of his friends, reflecting back on how horrible that other world was.

He gives his Lois a giant hug and caresses her stomach where their child is, swearing that he will never become like the other him. He mourns that he’ll never be able to see Green Arrow again, but is happy for him nonetheless.

He smiles at his world’s Diana and Bruce, his best friends, his confidants who will set him straight if he goes overboard. He’s grateful for Barry and Hal, and Victor and Arthur. For a moment, he flashes back to Hal in that yellow suit and Victor with that glowing red eye of his, more machine than man.

Clark is happy.

Then he sees Shazam. He sees Billy, coming from school, with both homework and Champion work to do. He’s confident and excitable and isn’t able to hide the beaming smile when he sees Clark. He begins ranting about his stupid teachers and how long and boring school is. How he couldn’t wait to get out of there and go fight some demons or robots or wizards.

Clark’s smile drops. The rest of the League notices and immediately asks what’s wrong. Is he tired? Is he overwhelmed? How can they help?

He can’t look at him. Clark can’t look Billy in the eyes without knowing what happened to his other self. What he caused. Who he killed. His stomach drops and he feels tears begin to well up in his eyes before he quickly blinks them away. Billly doesn’t need tears right now. He doesn’t need to deal with the problems of adults like he had to in that other universe. Like hell would Clark allow that to happen.

Billy leaves soon after, claiming he has to finish his work quickly if he wants to get to patrol faster. Clark nods slowly as he leaves before turning to look at his confused cohorts.

Diana asks what happened. Why he reacted like that to Billy in particular. Barry agrees and asks if the little guy got hurt or something. Dr. Fate is the only silent observer.

Clark looks them all in the eye, and tells them everything. About how horrible the other world is. How horrible his other self was. The constant death and despair.

And then, he tells them what he found out before he left. Why that world’s Shazam wasn’t there.

The other Clark killed him.

Billy was the only one who spoke out against the other Superman’s war-crazy plans of conquering other planets. Other universes. It was a no brained that the Champion would be the most against the tyranny. And yet, no one helped. No one said a thing.

No one moved in to protect the boy when Injustice-Superman’s breath froze Shazam’s mouth, preventing him from speaking the word that might’ve saved him. No one spoke when hot laser eyes burned into Shazam’s. No one helped move the body when it fell to the ground.

The League is horrified! Angered and disgusted and every other ugly feeling. Diana is distraught that she just watched the boy she, and everyone else, thought of as a little brother be killed before her very eyes, and by one of her closest friends! Hal wants to kill his other self for preventing the other Barry from helping, and Barry just wants to throttle the other Superman. Victor doesn’t move a muscle, but more could be said in how he glared at the metal encasing his body. He swore that he would never let the machine take full control. Now he knew why.

Bruce wants to go back. See the other Billy’s grave. He wants to find their Billy and give him the biggest hug, shove food into his arms and a blanket over his shoulders.

Of course, Billy knows already. He felt it in the Rock, heard the whisper of his death in another world by a distraught Wizard. He actually isn’t all that surprised. Of course a world like that would do something horrible to him, why not?

But that doesn’t stop his surprise when League members hang around him more often than they already do. They don’t get clingy, per we, but they do lose their shit when he isn’t in the room. They sneak a little money into his pocket when he says no, and they, on more than one occasion, wrestle each other for some aloe time with Billy.

He’s just glad they haven’t asked him if he knows he’s dead in another universe.

He’s going to the funeral soon. And he’ll be one of the only people there.

[ghouldtime]

Beautiful. John Price x Reader Drabble

Thousands of words in the English language could be put together to describe the man known as Captain Johnathon Price. They could be listed for hours upon end, strung together in endless paragraphs and sonnets, and yet they would pale in comparison to describing the magnitude of the person he truly was. Hundreds of thousands of words have been spoke about him, but out of that whole list, you had one favorite word to describe him.

Beautiful.

To put it simply, John Price came as close to the human characterization of the word as far as you were concerned. He exemplified every letter and syllable down to the last curved line of it written.

He was beautiful in how he fearlessly pursued those who were evil incarnates in the world. Even those who were much lesser, he relentlessly chased with no lesser dedication. The passion that blazed in his veins shone like a wildfire in his eyes as he tore them apart, showing them the same merciless cruelty that they had shown others.

He was beautiful in how his endless loyalty knew no bounds when it came to those who he cared about. Should he be told that the sun had met its demise and the whole world was due to end, he would've personally done what he can to fight it bare handed until the bitter, burning end.

He was beautiful in how he would sacrifice himself at any given moment at the drop of a hat. His life came second and the rest of the world's came first. Though his methods might be what others defined as dirty, underhanded, or wrong, he took it into his own hands and sacrificed his own morality and sanity with it - all for the greater good.

He was beautiful in how he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders without so much as a complaint. So often the burden of saving the humanity as we knew it rolled back onto his shoulders, weighing him down once more, but he took it with grace and humility. Carrying the burning beacon of liberty and freedom alike came at a great cost but he carried the torch with his head high, never ceasing to set it down.

He was beautiful in how he lead, without hesitation or fear alike. Such words weren't foreign but they were forgotten when it came to unraveling the red lines of fate itself, unsure when the end would finally untangle and fall in front of him. His everything was put into every breath as he carried onwards with his head high and weapons drawn, not just for himself, not just for his team, but for those whose life would otherwise cease to exist if he didn't keep fighting.

Yes, he was beautiful to you in every sense of the word. His perfect imperfections that sculpted him made him perfectly perfect - perfectly human, perfectly the John you so loved with every ounce of your mind, body, and soul alike.

Yet arguably, he was most beautiful in the totality of his existence. He was the most beautiful when he existed as himself, without the expectations or rush of the outside realm pushing for yet another busy day. Such moments were scarce but you found them in your bed in early mornings when the sun had yet to fully rise.

Early morning sunlight peeked through the blinds, dappling the room in the faintest spots of warm rays. Small slips of silver tinged his brown, short-cropped hair and beard alike. While he wasn't even remotely old (he was only thirty eight, for Christ's sake), carrying the stress that he did was bound to age anyone faster. The few wiry stray gray hairs here and there stood as testament to his maturity and his seasoned nature, as far as you were concerned. Besides, it gave you yet another feature to count on him and to memorize among the many others that made him, well, himself.

The pale golden light highlighted the crease of his brow and the expression lines etched into the delicate skin of his face. Crow's-feet gathered at the corner of his eyes, and the deeper frown lines etched into his slack jaw. Sun spots here and there decorated him like marks of reward after having spent so much time outside. You couldn't help but to trace them with your eyes, unwilling to lean in and press a kiss to each and every bit in the way you desperately yearned for in fear of waking him up.

Sleep scarcely got along with John, as you discovered. Many nights it evaded him, leaving him to scrape together the bare minimum of rest needed to function before exhaustion claimed him as its next victim. Last night, though, he hadn't stirred the slightest bit and instead had finally let some much needed sleep claim him whole as it dragged him under.

Soft snores rumbled from his furred chest, the slight chap of his lips having worsened in the night as he parted them in deep breaths. His side rose and fell in a steady, even rhythm as he rested among the plush sheets and fluffy bedding draped around his lax form.

To many, they might see the sleep addled noises as an annoyance or a disturbance, but to you there was no greater reward and giddy feeling than knowing he was finally, finally resting. In the land of sleep, the burdens placed upon him evaporated at least temporarily. How his fingers occasionally twitched and the mumbles that escaped him suggested that wasn't fully the truth, but it was better than constantly living in the waking world and fading further under the inconceivable pressures life itself forced down his throat.

Your heart warmed further in your chest when he nuzzled closer to you in his sleep, the arm loosely thrown around you blindly grasping for your warmth in his unconscious state. How it was possible to send your heart even more into a fluttering tizzy, you didn't know, but he managed to do it with that one simple motion. The familiar heart of a blush dusted your cheeks, turning them a rosy hue that complimented the early pink of the sunrise as you obliged and moved closer.

Unable to help yourself, you brought your lips to his forehead, kissing between the subtle knitting of his brows before you drew him closer, mirroring his hold on you, right down to the thigh pressed between your legs, tangling you together.

Memorizing this moment alone wouldn't be enough, you're sure. You wished you could live in it forever, basking in his warmth that outdid that of the rising sun above. Alas the inevitable constraints of time would usher you out of bed and urge you to go about your day, but for now you didn't need to think or worry about it. That would be a later issue when he too finally roused and stretched, deciding to start the day on his own terms.

An issue you that you didn't want to come anytime soon.

For now, you were content to wrap yourself up in his embrace and the sheets alike, letting the rhythmic beating of his heart and the constant white-noise of his snores to lull you back to the realm of unconsciousness. While others might chide you for being lazy or for not getting up and greeting the morning or for daring to start your day late, you saw no need and no rush. What point was rushing the day when it would be without the one you valued more than the rest of the world itself? There's no place you'd rather be than with him and if it meant laying in bed for an extra hour, so be it, that's a morning you'd take any day - and hopefully for the rest of your life.

The sunrise outside may paint a kaleidoscope of colors that seeped through the gaps in the blinds and promise a view like no other as a treat reserved for those who woke up early enough, but considering moving to see it was out of the question. All the sunrises left as the earth kept spinning, even those up until the end of time, would still pale in comparison to the one you loved more than life itself. Nothing would ever come close to being as beautiful as John, your John. You're sure of it.

You didn't doubt it for one second as you stole one last glance at his sleeping face through your lashes, permanently etching the faintest hint of a smile that curled on his fine features in the heart that skipped yet another beat for him.

[rainbowmoonstonestories]

A Bounty As Boundless As The Sea | Chapter 7

Chapters: 7/? Fandom: One Piece (Liveaction 2023) Rating: Explicit Relationships Dracule Mihawk x F!Reader Characters: Dracule Mihawk, Original Characters, Akagami no Shanks, Roronoa Zoro , Perona. Warnings: Mention of blood and physical torture, violence, 18+ content (minors DNI), explicit sexual content, POV switching. Summary: Constantly evading capture due to a bounty on your head, you were forced to embrace the life of a pirate, despite your initial desire for a thrilling adventure and a simple exploration of the world. One fateful day, the Marines dispatched Dracule Mihawk to hunt you down, plunging you into a game of hide and seek with the formidable Warlord of the sea throughout the East Blue. However, to your surprise, the man proved to be less bloodthirsty and hostile than you had anticipated. His piercing, hawk-like eyes, shimmering with a deep golden hue, left an indelible impression on your mind, while his apathetic yet self-assured demeanor ignited a newfound sense of intrigue within you.

Credits: The divider was made by firefly-graphics.

Tagging: @gg-trini, @commanderfreethatdust, @canthebest1, @shakysif, @i-am-vita. If anyone else wants to be tagged in the future chapters, feel free to drop me a comment!

Read on AO3

Although your relationship with Mihawk took unexpected turns for the better, your inner doubts and fears continued to resurface. After a year-long absence, a short break in your hometown might be just what you needed.

Author's note: Hey everyone! I'm finally back with a new chapter. I know waiting almost two months between updates can be a bit tiring, but I can't write these stories any faster. Unfortunately, I caught COVID last week, which slowed everything down due to the cold and persistent headaches. 😔 Please bear with me! ♥♥

This chapter is LONG, and while relatively calm, it holds significant meaning while marking a crucial turning point in Reader's relationship with Mihawk. The next chapter promises to be even better in this regard. Also, there's a bit of spice in the beginning! 🌶

Warning: There's a bit of detailed NSFW content in the beginning.

Your relationship with Dracule Mihawk had truly transformed into an unprecedented adventure. Despite your established job as a dealer and Mihawk's free-spirited nature, more encounters followed in the subsequent weeks, spontaneous and unpredictable.

It remained a mystery whether Mihawk regularly traveled between the Grand Line and the East Blue, effortlessly navigating the Reverse Mountain and Calm Belts. Nonetheless, it wouldn't have been surprising, given his extraordinary abilities and the enigmatic aura that surrounded him.

As time passed, you noticed Mihawk gradually revealing more of himself around you. He displayed a subtle appreciation for certain things—refined food with rare cuts of meat, exotic fruit, philosophy, and golden jewelry. You often found yourself engaging in deep discussions about history and battle strategy, topics other women might find awfully soporific, but that you thoroughly enjoyed exploring with him. His subtle compliments on your appearance and accessories revealed his appreciation for elegance and refinement, his keen eye for even the smallest details underscoring his profound interest in you.

Mihawk wasn't a particularly romantic man. Though well-mannered and generally polite, he eschewed traditional courtship rituals involving loving words or flowers. He was direct, saying only what he meant, and didn't concern himself with public displays of affection like holding hands in the streets. Yet, you grew fond of even this seemingly detached side of him, finding your intimacy more expressive than any other gesture.

In bed, when his guard lowered, he displayed a noticeably softer side. His piercing golden eyes, firm touch, and strong embrace conveyed the depth of his growing devotion to you. It was something that transcended ordinary relationships, surpassing anything you had ever imagined possible.

You weren't opposed to romance per se, but you gave little importance to red roses or serenades. You had always been rebellious at heart, longingly staring at the ocean with hopes of one day setting sail for grander aspirations. Certainly, it hadn't been an easy journey, and countless times you'd felt like giving up on everythng you had tried to build for yourself. Your serendipitous meeting with Dracule Mihawk, however, proved to be a turning point, completely transforming your perspective and the familiar world around you.

His presence was electrifying, awakening your senses and unveiling emotions you had never before fathomed. Even during your separations, which could span days or weeks as you pursued your missions and explorations, his scent lingered in your memory, and you could still feel the warmth of his hands on your skin.

Time with Mihawk was a luxury beyond words, his presence exuding a serenity akin to unintentional meditation. The only drawback was the intensifying longing you felt for the Warlord during his absence, a bittersweet consequence of your increasingly enchanting rendezvous.

With each meeting, your desire to be with him grew stronger, stirring feelings you were reluctant to acknowledge. He was ever elusive, wild, easily coming and going—a lightning bolt in the wind. For all you knew, he might grow weary of your company at any point in the future, vanishing without a trace, never to return for you.

Yet, there were those small, unexpected actions that arose unexpectedly, validating his commitment and genuine dedication to your relationship.

One day, Mihawk visited your cabin without reservation, moving through it with confident familiarity. By then, his presence there felt as natural as welcoming him home, a cozy sanctuary that had become your shared haven. It was meant to be a simple distraction, really; a moment to enjoy a drink and conversation, with no real intention of engaging in sexual activities. You should have anticipated that your interaction would inevitably evolve into playful banter, culminating into something more.

However, this time, it was new. A shared soak in your private tub filled with warm, steaming water, your clothes fallen away piece by piece and strewn casually across the wooden planks. Even his golden cross knife lay scattered among the pile.

It was an impromptu idea, offered with a mischievous smile amid your exchange without much forethought. You'd expected him to dismiss it offhandedly, returning his attention to the wine and lounging elegantly on your couch for the rest of the night.

When he took the initiative without a word, easing into the confined space and establishing an intimate closeness—skin against skin—saying you were absolutely dumbfounded would be an understatement. Nestled together in the water, Mihawk sat behind you, his strong chest offering support as your legs bent slightly upward. His muscular thighs enveloped your body like a protective cocoon as his elbows rested on the tub's edge, his head reclined and pressed absently against his hand.

The lanterns surrounding you had all been lit, casting an orange glow onto your figures. The amber and lavender scents in the air intoxicated your heightened senses, as soft mist from the steam enveloped you in a cloud of oceanic beauty. Subtle notes of sandalwood and sea salt wafted through the air, mingling with Mihawk's distinctive scent.

Taking long baths in beautiful atmospheres was something you had learned to savor by yourself on most days. However, having Mihawk's body pressed against yours was an addition you didn't realize you needed, as essential as oxygen.

You set out more wine, carefully arranging a small wooden table with filled glasses and decorative black orchids. These flowers seemed to suit his personality, and Mihawk didn't object to your choices. In fact, he seemed quite pleased with the ambiance you'd created, breathing slowly and watching your hand delicately trace invisible circles on the water's surface.

Soft ripples echoed off the walls, as a smile formed on your lips. “You know, for someone who claims to enjoy his solitude, you’re surprisingly good at this,” you declared.

Mihawk raised an eyebrow, though you couldn’t see it. “Good at what, exactly? Bathing?”

His tone was flat, but the sarcasm was unmistakable.

You chuckled, tilting your head back slightly to look up at him. “Good at sharing your space with someone else.”

You seductively ran your foot along his calf beneath the water, a coy grin spreading across your face.

“I could still lock myself out, if you’re asking for it,” he replied dryly.

You laughed, splashing a little water in his direction. "Oh, come now. I suggested this arrangement, after all. I half-expected you to decline."

"Yet, I can defy expectations."

"Totally. And frankly, I think you would have missed me if you'd stayed outside."

“Miss the sound of you splashing water and interrupting my peace? Hardly.”

His eyes gleamed with amusement as he watched your reaction.

You narrowed your eyes impishly, your smirk widening. "You're fortunate I'm so fond of you. Otherwise, you'd be dreadfully bored without me around."

Mihawk hummed softly, his arms encircling your waist as he tilted his head to press a feather-light kiss against your damp hair. The gesture caught you off guard, revealing a sweeter side of him you hadn't expected to emerge.

“I suppose there is some merit in having company... occasionally.” His voice carried a more serious tone, yet still held that underlying hint of amusement. “But only because it’s you.”

You smiled at that, resting your head against his shoulder and closing your eyes. The warmth of the water and Mihawk's steady presence enveloped you, creating an oasis of comfort and intimacy.

“Only because it’s me, huh?” You exhaled contentedly. "Good. Because right now, we’re stuck together."

A rare, tiny smile curved Mihawk's lips, hidden from your view but undeniably present.

His hands glided along your sides, reaching your thighs and gently coaxing them to part at his touch. "You do have a penchant for that sharp tongue of yours."

As you complied, opening your legs and allowing his fingers to skim towards your center, your breasts tantalizingly floated, peeking from the water. "Well, you know I can put it to good use."

He inhaled sharply at your remark, a low rumble resonating in his chest. "Indeed you can. But at this moment, I'd prefer to hear your voice in a more... enthralling manner."

You swallowed, pressing your lips together as his fingers reached your sensitive folds, while his other palm slid back up, cupping and lifting your breast. "Well," you breathed, "you certainly know how to unravel me."

“Mmh.”

Without preamble, his fingers slipped inside, sliding sensually through your inner walls and immediately curling to reach the right spot behind your pubic bone. His thumb swept across your nipple, causing it to harden into a taut peak.

“Ah!”

"That's right. This is a sound I like coming from you."

You were left speechless and breathless within seconds, your hips rising unconsciously as he established an insistent "come-hither" motion, the heel of his palm stroking your clit in the process. He held your breast firmly in his hand, pinching its tip and using it to intensify your mounting gratification. His every move was calculated, his knowledge of your body as precise as his understanding of any adversary in combat.

"Bold words. But unless you've managed to fit Yoru into this tub, I'd say you're not exactly unaffected either."

“I never said I was.”

As his arousal became evident against your back, you gripped the tub's edges for leverage. "Had you claimed differently, I'd say you're a poor liar."

"Shall I make myself more explicit?"

Your breathing quickened, your hips bucking with each deft movement of his fingers inside you. Your clit pulsed against his hand, sending waves of ecstasy through your entire form.

"No need," you replied, turning your head to find his lips mere inches from your face. His golden eyes studied you intently, never blinking once. "But, if you wish to do so, I certainly won't stop you."

Before you could even lean forward, his lips crashed against yours, his mustache and beard tickling your skin delightfully. His tongue was fiery and passionate, his mouth soft yet salty with hints of wine. His actions grew more fervent, the escalating stimulation causing an exquisite tension to build in your lower abdomen.

You gasped and moaned, your attempts to grind against his hardness thwarted by your position. Your hips rose out of the water, supported by your legs, while his skilled touch worked its magic on you. The sight of his fingers' deft movements, the muscles and tendons in his hand flexing and undulating, created one of the most erotic scenes you had ever witnessed.

As you climaxed, water splashed everywhere, your orgasm shattering your self-control and sending you into a frenzy of writhing and spasms. Mihawk continued to stimulate you until your walls stopped clenching, withdrawing from your core and letting go of your breast simultaneously. You panted against his lips, the Warlord savoring your pleasure and breathless sighs.

Your release arrived so quickly that you felt a fleeting sense of embarrassment at your apparent lack of restraint. However, Mihawk's proud expression quickly dispelled any notion that he was displeased. "Magnificent," he breathed, his voice a low, appreciative purr.

"You're quite the sly one," you murmured, finally regaining your composure. "And here I thought we were just going to unwind together."

"You didn't seem particularly opposed," he retorted, his voice laced with amusement. "We both knew this was inevitable."

"Are you implying I'm powerless against your charm?"

"Isn't that the undeniable truth?" Mihawk replied, his voice tinged with a hint of cocky arrogance.

"I can't really deny it," you said, turning on your side and guiding your hand to his neck. "But isn't the feeling mutual?"

"I must confess, you're the only one with whom I can truly lower my guard."

"Ah, so I am irresistible to you as well."

"That's not precisely what I said."

"Aw."

"But you're already well aware of the answer to that."

You smiled, submerging your hand once more and reaching for his arousal, which persistently pressed against your bodies. Your fingers encircled his tip, sensing its firmness and the intensity of his desire for you. "Well, if this isn't evidence enough..."

His grip tightened around your back, his reaction imperceptible, yet undeniably noticeable through the slightest shift. "Perhaps you should take matters into your own hands, then."

You sniggered. "Oh, back to the puns, eh? I see I've really influenced you with that."

You let your palm move, the water slowing down your motion, stroking from tip to base and back up again in a leisurely rhythm.

"It was more of a directive, but interpret it as you wish."

You nuzzled his cheek, your breath warm against his skin. "Any other requests, mister?"

"Just one."

“Yeah?”

He grasped your thigh, lifting it as high as the confined tub space allowed. "Be a good girl and indulge me for as long as I please."

A laugh escaped you as you buried your face in the crook of his neck. "I mean, sure. But 'good girl'? Really? I’m almost as old as you are."

"Define 'old,'" he challenged.

"Hey, I didn't mean that as an insu—ah!"

The penetration was swift and precise, his manhood sheathing in you like a sword slipping into its scabbard.

"Care to finish your sentence?"

"Damn it, Mihawk. You've got to stop cutting me off like that."

"As you once put it yourself: I do enjoy keeping you on your toes."

You groaned and tightened around him, your lips brushing his jaw with a tender kiss. “Oh, you incorrigible rogue."

“Mmh.”

The position was awkward yet provocative—your left leg bent and raised high, sending tingles through your knee, while your right foot pushed against the tub for stability. Even Mihawk, with his formidable strength, found it challenging to maintain steady thrusts. Through shared determination and mounting skill, you both found the perfect cadence, settling into a slow, sensual pace.

More water sloshed over the sides of the tub, the thought of drying the floor later far from your mind. Mihawk remained perfectly silent, his controlled breathing through his nostrils the only sound audible besides the water sloshing rhythmically against the tub's sides and your moans. His focus on the act was as disciplined as his swordsmanship training, the way his fingers dug into your thigh sending heavy jolts along your spine.

Your voice reverberated through the room, restrained yet distinct. Mihawk escalated his tempo, his arousal throbbing within you as your fingers sought out your clit, hypersensitive yet yearning for more. You stroked it gently, once, then twice, the lingering electricity from your previous orgasm making it quiver. As you bit your lower lip, savoring the pleasure, your fingertips deliberately grazed his shaft with each calculated motion.

His breath finally quickened, and his pupils dilated so much that it became difficult to discern the golden hue of his eyes. “Keep going.”

"Lucky for you, I have no plans to stop."

Your movements intensified, fingers dancing faster across your tender nub while brushing his length with each powerful thrust. The dual stimulation amplified your ecstasy, building towards a fantastic crescendo.

You cherished each moment, pausing whenever you felt the edge of climax approaching, your body clenching and trembling around him. Then, with measured patience, you'd resume, your fingers tracing sensuous circles, until the craving for release became nearly irresistible.

“Mihawk—”

"Let go," he commanded, his tone husky and demanding. "Don't hold back on my behalf."

You ramped up your stimulation, losing all capacity to speak as your eyes rolled back. You surrendered everything your body had to offer, more water splashing out as your inner walls convulsed and your clit pulsed against your fingertips.

Mihawk's endurance proved more formidable this time, but when he finally surrendered to his pleasure, you relished his subtle groans with a deep, final kiss. Cradling his face, you gently raked your nails through his beard, your ragged breaths intertwining with his.

The heated room and your physical exertion left your muscles melting into a puddle of bliss. You sank contentedly against his chest, resting and relaxing, as he possessively draped an arm around your waist.

"Was that unwinding enough for you?" he inquired.

"Mmm, yes. I'd say that was more than sufficient," you replied with another satisfied smile.

"I have to say, this was an excellent suggestion."

You cacked. “See? I always have great ideas.”

He grasped the wine glass, taking a generous sip of the crimson liquid. "Don't get cocky now."

You delicately traced the corner of his mouth, collecting a stray drop of wine with your thumb. With a impish glint in your eye, you brought it to your lips, tasting the rich flavor on your tongue. "I wouldn't dare."

For a moment, he regarded you with the blankest of expressions, only to have it transform into one of surprise, followed by a smile—small, yet more genuine than any you had seen before.

"I might have another idea, actually," you expressed.

“Oh?”

You exhaled, adjusting your position to snuggle more comfortably against him. "Would you stay the night?"

"Aren't you becoming quite the daring one?"

"Well, it's a straightforward yes or no question, isn't it?"

"Is it your desire that I remain?"

You bit your lower lip, drawing your knees to your chest in the water. With a blend of hope and vulnerability, you answered. "Yes."

His response came promptly, outpacing your ability to process the situation.

"Then I shall stay until the break of dawn."

A warm glow blossomed in your chest, spreading outward to your stomach and suffusing your entire body. Your smile broadened as you fought to suppress a genuine squeal of delight threatening to burst from your heart.

“Right. You shall.”

As the first rays of sunlight caressed your back, the thin strap of your top slipping slightly off your shoulder, your eyes fluttered open. Instinctively, your hand wandered acrosss the sheets, reaching forward, only to discover the spot beside you was cold and vacant.

You pouted silently, yet you couldn't truly be surprised. It was a privilege that Dracule Mihawk accepted your company to such an extent; expecting him to change his habits for you would be unreasonable.

In truth, you found it exhilarating. The spontaneity of your encounters, with the Warlord seeking you out solely for your company, surpassed any fictional romance in its thrill and authenticity.

You yawned, stretching your limbs and sinking into the mattress. Blinking a few times, you dispelled the grogginess and blurriness from your eyes, listening to the gentle lapping of waves against your ship.

As your vision cleared in the soft morning glow, you noticed a dark object resting on the empty pillow in front of you. Rubbing your eyes in disbelief, you glanced away and back again, ensuring your mind wasn't playing tricks on you. There, perched atop the soft cotton cloud, sat a black, velvety square box. There was no note or hint of its contents, just the simple item placed there like a silent gift.

Carefully lifting the box, you turned it over in your hands, examining it as you pushed yourself into a sitting position. The velvety material felt soft and light against your skin, its luxurious texture rivaling Mihawk's own refined presence. As you opened it, the top lid coming off without resistance, the item within made your heart skip a beat.

Inside the box rested a delicate golden cross necklace, its elegant design gleaming against a small, dark cushion. With trembling fingers, you carefully extracted it from its velvet cradle, the chain composed of delicate links, as sparkling as starlight. The cross was beautifully simple, its surface smooth and unadorned.

A gift from Mihawk—for you.

In that moment, a realization struck you. Mihawk hadn't simply given you a jewel as a token of appreciation; he'd chosen the one symbol that truly represented him. The shape mirrored both the ornate dagger he wore on his chest and the cross-guard of Yoru on his back. It was a thoughtful gesture, meant to keep you connected even when apart, a meaningful memento he had evidently prepared in advance of his visit.

Mihawk might not have been one for traditional romantic courtship, but he certainly knew how to impress you in his own distinctive way.

Without hesitation, you fastened the necklace around your neck, a lump forming in your throat as the cool metal settled against your skin. You sprang from the bed with unbridled excitement, darting to the mirror to admire your new adornment. The pendant rested comfortably against your collarbones, its minimalist design exuding luxury. This small yet sophisticated addition transformed even your simple tank top and shorts into a stylish ensemble, illuminating your face with its radiance, enhanced by the morning sunlight.

Your face lit up with a bright smile, soft laughter bubbled from your lips, and tears of happiness glistened in your eyes. While the future of your relationship with him remained uncertain, his thoughtful present sparked a daring hope for something more profound.

In that moment, as you gazed at your reflection, fingers gently clasping the delicate golden cross, the true nature of your feelings for the Warlord finally crystallized. Despite your attempts to deny it, even to yourself, you had fallen utterly, desperately, and completely in love with Dracule Mihawk.

With this newfound clarity, you embraced the future fearlessly for the first time, as Mihawk had given you a compelling reason to forge a path alongside him.

Passing through your hometown's main arch triggered a surreal sense of déjà vu, blurring the boundary between past and present. The familiar sights evoked conflicting emotions; an uncanny feeling of never having left, intertwined with the stark realization of returning after a prolonged absence.

Your grip tightened on your bag's strap, its weight seemingly multiplying tenfold. The impulsiveness of your visit—conceived mere hours ago without warning—left you acutely aware that no one expected your arrival.

As you walked through the streets, whispers from some passersby who recognized you drifted to your ears. In contrast, the town's regular shopkeepers and residents greeted you warmly, their genuine smiles devoid of any underlying judgment. You waved back enthusiastically, returning their greetings without breaking your stride.

The journey to your family's establishment seemed interminable, stretching far beyond your recollection. Each step became a laborious effort, your feet growing heavier as if trudging through thick syrup. Though born and raised here, this place now felt foreign, as if you no longer belonged.

As your mind wandered, a voice you recognized suddenly called out from behind, catching your attention and prompting you to turn around. “Y/N…? Is that really you?”

There stood your childhood friend, her eyes wide and jaw slack with utter disbelief.

A genuine smile lit up your face. "Mary-Ann!"

Mary-Ann's grocery bag hit the ground with a thud, miraculously remaining upright without spilling its contents. She let out an ear-piercing squeal that echoed through the streets, then flung herself at you. Her arms wrapped tightly around your neck as she collided with you, the impact nearly dislodging your bag and sending you stumbling back a few steps.

"I can't believe it's you! You have no idea how much I've missed you!!!"

You laughed, pulling her into a tight embrace. "I've missed you too! It's wonderful to see you. How have you been?"

She reluctantly pulled away, her hands still gripping your upper arms. "I can't complain. Though the kids do test my patience something fierce at times. You'd think they'd mellow out as they mature, but no such luck."

"Some things never change, huh?"

"No, but that's the charm of it all."

She retrieved her groceries, sweeping her hair out of her eyes. "But what about you, lady? Are you okay? I was worried sick when I saw that bounty poster."

You shrugged, offering a wry smile. "Still kicking and breathing, as you can see. It's all settled now."

"I can see that. I mean, look at you! You're so... different. You look gorgeous."

“Aw, thank you.”

"I'm serious! Look at those killer abs. What on earth have you been doing?"

You flinched as she playfully ran her nails along your abdomen, the ticklish sensation penetrating through your shirt. "Well, life on the open sea really puts your physical endurance to the test."

"I swear, if I didn't have children and a husband at home, I'd join you in a heartbeat. Speaking of which, are you planning to stay or...?"

You shook your head. "I'm just passing through. There are some matters I need to attend to elsewhere."

She raised an eyebrow. "’Some matters’, hm? Do they have anything to do with a certain Warlord I've heard about?"

"Wow, gossip really travels fast in this town, doesn't it?"

"That's just how it is here. You should be used to it by now."

Shaking your head, you exhaled softly. "Yeah, I should've seen that coming."

"Oh, you simply must dish out all the juicy details later! Are you heading to the tavern? I bet everyone there will be over the moon to see you again."

"I am. Why don't you join us tonight? Bring your family along too, of course."

Mary-Ann nodded enthusiastically, flashing a toothy grin. "Count on it! Want me to spread the word to the others?"

"Absolutely! I'd be thrilled to catch up with everyone."

"I bet you've got some incredible tales to share. I won't hold you up any longer, though. Go see your family and get some rest. When are you planning to set off again?"

Adjusting the strap of your bag, you hummed contemplatively. "In a week or so."

"Really? That's fantastic! I can't wait to relive the good old times with you."

You watched her with amusement as she bounced on her toes, eyes sparkling at the thought of hearing your thrilling stories.

"Me too. Say hi to your family for me, and I'll see you all in a few hours."

She kissed your cheek, then crossed the street with the graceful bearing uniquely hers, a quintessential Mary-Ann trait. "I can't wait!"

As her figure disappeared around a distant corner near her house, you felt your body finally relax. As a recent high-profile fugitive, you couldn't help but wonder what rumors might have spread during your absence.

Finding that your longtime friends remained steadfast in their support, despite not knowing the full extent of your circumstances, provided a profound sense of reassurance.

With renewed confidence, you quickened your pace towards your destination. Arriving at the tavern, you skirted the main entrance and headed for the back door. Your heart raced with anticipation, memories flooding back of countless times you'd longed to come home without the opportunity to return.

At last, the moment had arrived. Your fingers trembled as you grasped the handle, stepping inside with bated breath. The kitchen was quiet, yet filled with a nostalgic tapestry of aromas you had almost forgotten: freshly baked bread, sweet jam, grilled fish, sizzling steak, and crispy fried potatoes.

The atmosphere was as warm and inviting as you remembered, with golden lanterns and fairy lights scattered throughout. Scented candles flickered in a distant corner, safely away from the stove and any flammable objects.

Tucked away in the separate pantry, someone was rummaging through the stocked items and ingredients, muttering soft curses and rummaging through supplies. It took you no more than two seconds to recognize the person, your lips spreading into a wide smile once again.

Quietly, you set your bag on an empty chair before stealthily approaching the pantry entrance. Leaning against the doorframe with crossed arms, you shifted your weight to one foot. Your cousin caught your attention as she scratched her head in frustration, low grunts escaping her lips. Her gentle locks became slightly tousled and disheveled with each movement.

"Ugh! Where the hell did they put the pink salt?!"

Suppressing a chuckle, you bit your lip. The thought of remaining hidden to see how long it would take her to notice crossed your mind, but you decided to be merciful and end your cousin's fruitless search. "Second shelf on the right, bottom compartment."

Momentarily oblivious to who had spoken, she reached for the suggested location and discovered the salt jar tucked away behind the pickles and olives.

"Ah, there it is! Thanks, you're a lifesaver. I was about to lose my mind searching for it."

"You're welcome," you replied with a casual smirk. "Though I must say, it's not the most logical spot for it."

Suddenly, she froze, the jar suspended in midair, her body stiffening as if struck by lightning. Slowly, she placed the salt on a shelf before her, whispering in disbelief, "Wait a minute."

You remained motionless as she turned to face you, her expression morphing into a mix of shock and confusion. Her features had matured noticeably during your year-long absence, and you couldn't help but notice she seemed to have grown at least two centimeters taller.

"Y/N...?" She stammered, her eyes wide. "What—how—when did you...?"

"Easy now, I promise I'm not some spectral apparition come to haunt you."

Her shoulders sagged as tears welled up in her eyes. She pressed her hands against her mouth, stifling a sob.

"It's wonderful to see you, Runa. You look we—"

Before you could finish your sentence, Runa dashed towards you, launching herself into the air. She clung to you like an excited little monkey, wrapping her arms around your neck and legs around your waist.

As she began sobbing into your hair and shoulder, your heart completely shattered. With newfound strength, you effortlessly adjusted her position, supporting her weight as if it were nothing.

"Y/N!!! You're home!!" Runa exclaimed through her tears.

"I'm not staying long, but yes. I'm home, sweetie."

To Runa, you were more than just a cousin; you were the big sister she'd never had. Having lost her mother at a young age, she found in you a mentor and role model who provided both protection and inspiration. Evidently, neither your bounty nor the swirling rumors about your reputation had been enough to shake her faith in you.

Runa's sobs echoed through the kitchen, reverberating off the walls and reaching the ears of your other family members. The door flew open as your parents, uncle, and other cousins rushed in, their worried expressions quickly transforming into looks of astonishment and unbridled joy.

Again, your name resounded like a chorus as they all rushed towards you, nearly toppling you over in their excitement. Runa clung tightly as you lost your balance, your quick reflexes allowing you to use your legs as leverage, preventing a hard fall onto your lower back.

Your heart swelled with warmth at their elation. Embracing each loved one felt surreal, an experience you had doubted would ever happen again, given the countless perils you'd faced on the open sea.

Laughter and tears intermingled as you embraced them, over and over again, savoring each precious moment of reunion. They clung to you tightly, unwilling to let go, their hands tenderly caressing your face and hair.

And so, in the tranquil atmosphere of the nearly empty tavern, you immersed yourself into the early afternoon's exhilarating happiness. As you savored your mother's famous apple pie—one of the things you'd missed most while away—you regaled your family with tales of your adventures. Navigating the conversation proved delicate, as you carefully omitted certain details and steered clear of mentioning Mihawk. Despite Runa's keen interest in your maritime exploits, your family maintained a respectful distance, allowing you to share only what you felt comfortable disclosing.

Inevitably, the topic of Mihawk arose during the discussion. The precise nature of your connection to the Warlord remained ambiguous to those present, as the gossip circulating throughout the East Blue varied wildly and lacked credibility. You offered intentionally vague responses, only acknowledging your romantic connection with Mihawk. You stressed his willingness to disobey government directives for your protection, emphasizing how he safeguarded you from both bounty hunters and marines.

Fortunately, the gifts and mementos you brought served as an effective distraction, steering the conversation away from matters you preferred to keep confidential. Though you had no intention of hiding your personal life from your family, you exercised caution in sharing details about a relationship that was still taking shape.

Yet, a mother's intuition often surpasses all others, and your unconscious fidgeting with your necklace spoke volumes to yours, more than words ever could.

The day unfolded with a rhythm of friendly banter and tavern service. You seamlessly pitched in, handling kitchen duties and bartending as if you'd never left. While the place remained unchanged, your confidence had soared. Your interactions with customers flowed naturally, and you promoted the family's products with newfound finesse.

As evening fell, Mary-Ann joined the festivities with her family in tow. Your friend group also gathered at the tavern, creating a warm and bustling ambiance brimming with heartfelt toasts and genuine gleemerriment.

You loved every second of it, relishing the old flavors of home and treasuring the company of those who would always welcome you with open arms, no matter how far your journeys carried you.

Sinking into your old bed again felt nostalgically comforting, your room untouched as if frozen in time. Sleep eluded you, as the abrupt change in environment and the tumultuous emotions swirling within kept your mind wide awake.

Twirling the cross pendant between your fingers, your thoughts drifted to Mihawk and his considerate gift. True to his reserved nature, Mihawk hadn't mentioned it. Instead, he'd simply placed the box on your pillow as you slept, allowing you to discover it upon waking. His subtle approach didn't bother you, however, as it perfectly aligned with his distant and reticent personality.

You couldn't pinpoint exactly when your feelings had grown so strong, perhaps you had loved him since your first conversation, or maybe you were already smitten when he began pursuing you across the East Blue. His piercing eyes, seemingly cold demeanor that masked surprising gentleness, and the high regard he held for you, all contributed to his magnetic allure. Moreover, his casual praise, sincere compliments, and willingness to defy the World Government to free you from their clutches only deepened your affection.

At last, you drifted into slumber, Mihawk's visage imprinted in your mind. His piercing, hawk-like gaze seemed to watch over your very soul from a distant shore.

In truth, he was a lot closer than you realized.

The following days passed blissfully, as you delved into in the cherished rhythms of family life: crafting beloved recipes, guiding Runa through kitchen mishaps, engaging patrons at the bar, and sharing hearty laughs with relatives and friends. Your parents were overjoyed, praising your acquired strength and fortitude, marveling at the way you maneuvered yourself around the place. For the first time, you truly felt the magic of the tavern, creating memories that would last a lifetime.

The irony wasn't lost on you. You had once desperately wanted to escape this very routine, longing to break free from your constraints and an existence filled with monotonous, mundane experiences. Now, after a transformative year at sea, you found yourself completely changed beyond recognition, fully refreshed and more attuned to life's subtle pleasures.

Yet, a piece of your heart remained on the open waters, in whichever corner of the world Mihawk currently explored.

The old adage rings true: once a pirate, always a pirate. While you couldn't consider yourself one in the strictest sense, you had embraced many aspects unique to the world of piracy. Your past insecurities had faded, replaced by a deep sense of self-acceptance and pride in your growth.

With the frenetic pace of sailing between islands for deals and deliveries now paused, time seemed to flow at a more measured tempo. Your culinary passion took a backseat during your travels, fatigue and inadequate equipment often prevented you from creating the dishes you once enjoyed. Although you hadn't cooked a full meal in quite some time, you were pleased to find your expertise remained intact.

Inevitably, you envisioned sharing a homemade meal with Mihawk, a welcome change from the hastily warmed dishes you recently resorted to during your makeshift dates. He never voiced any complaints, why would he? The quality of the food ranked among the best in the East Blue, with its exceptional taste evident in every bite. Nevertheless, you wanted to invest more effort, aspiring to present the Warlord with a more sophisticated creation that showcased your creativity and personal touch.

Distracted by your musings, you nearly overcooked the eggs in the pan. You removed them from the heat just in time, saving the meal from becoming a charred mess stuck to the bottom of the cookware.

As you were plating the final dishes for the dining room customers, your mother rushed into the kitchen, slightly out of breath. Her face was a mix of excitement and urgency, her expression hinting at pressing news she was eager to disclose.

"What is it?" you asked, your curiosity piqued.

"Y/N, why didn't you tell us?" your mother exclaimed, her eyes wide with excitement.

"Uh... tell you what?"

"Oh, come now, dear. I'm talking about your boyfriend! If you had notified me of his arrival, I would have prepared something special."

You froze, your hands suspended in midair. "Wait, what?"

While Mihawk had an uncanny ability to track you down, it seemed unlikely he'd show up in the heart of your family's territory.

Right?

"That Hawk-Eye fellow. He's sitting at the main counter right now."

It couldn't be. Could it?

"He's here? Really?" you asked, your voice a mixture of disbelief and exhilaration.

"Oh? You mean you didn't invite him?" she asked, her eyebrows raised in surprise.

"I most certainly did not," you replied.

"Well, what are you doing standing here? Go on, go to him! I'll finish up in here."

You watched as she gently removed the plates from your hands, ushering you out of the kitchen with the widest grin you'd ever seen on her face.

"Did he even ask for me?"

"Who cares? If he's here, it's obviously not to meet any of us. Now, stop dawdling and go! Hop to it!"

"Okay, okay!"

The kitchen door swung shut behind you, and you shook your head with a smile. Having Mihawk in your hometown was astonishing enough, but the fact that he was actually seated at your family's tavern seemed even more unbelievable.

To confirm your mother's words and rule out any mistaken identity, you scanned the dining room from a distance. There was no room for doubt; Mihawk's imposing aura set him apart, even in the bustling atmosphere.

Indeed, he sat elegantly at the main counter, an empty plate before him and a glass of wine in hand. His hat cast a shadow over his face, while Yoru, securely fastened to his back, emanated its ever-present, majestic dominance.

There he was, mere steps away, his figure a tangible reality. Though seemingly at ease in his solitude, his very arrival suggested an unspoken anticipation for something more.

As you made your way down the corridor, your older cousin suddenly appeared, leaning against the wall with a playful smirk and blocking your path. Mihawk disappeared behind his tall frame, and you resisted the urge to nudge your relative aside—gently, or perhaps not so gently.

"So," he began with a mischievous wink. "Are you finally going to spill the beans?"

"Come on, really? You're choosing this moment to interrogate me?"

"It's a simple question, really."

"I have no idea what kind of answer you're fishing for."

"I'm just wondering if I should start shopping for a wedding outfit," he teased. "I don't want to miss out."

You let out a snort. "Wedding? Micah, we're not even officially a couple yet."

"Are you sure? Because I doubt any man would come all this way if you weren't important to him."

Mulling over your cousin's words, you acknowledged their merit. It was unlike Mihawk to seek family approval, particularly at this early stage when your relationship was still evolving and finding its footing.

He was quite mysterious, not your typical man who comes with a comprehensive instruction manual.

"Look, whatever's going on, I need to figure it out for myself.”

Micah nodded, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "Naturally. I just wouldn't have pegged you as someone who'd fall for a guy like that."

You crossed your arms. "And what exactly is that supposed to mean?"

"Isn't he rather intimidating? That sword of his is enormous, don’t you think?"

A devilish glint appeared in your eyes. Ready to play Micah's game, you had the perfect retort up your sleeve. "It depends on which sword you're referring to.”

Your cousin’s face contorted, shock and revulsion etching across his features. "Tell me you didn't just say that."

"Well, you did ask."

"I didn't ask about his personal attributes, thank you very much. But I get it, I should mind my own business, right? Message received."

While you appreciated the humorous exchange, a more urgent concern beckoned, one you were eager to address. “So, are you planning to stand here all night, or will you let me pass?"

Micah raised his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, go ahead. I wouldn't want to be on your bad side."

"Good, because I could flip you upside down without breaking a sweat now."

“Aye aye.”

He walked past you, tightening the knot of his apron as he headed to the kitchen. "Just do me a favor and don't bring him to your room tonight. I value my sleep."

As Micah retreated behind the door, your heart suddenly raced, leaving you alone with a flutter of nervous excitement. The Warlord's effect on you was remarkable, causing your knees to weaken even without a glance or gesture from him.

The limited privacy in your family home heightened your awareness of your constrained interactions. You felt compelled to maintain proper decorum, which certainly ruled out inviting Mihawk to your bedroom for a night of passionate indulgence.

Steadying your breath, you approached the counter with poise, positioning yourself behind it as though welcoming a distinguished guest. Mihawk remained still, deftly rotating the wine glass in his hand and sampling its contents with the finesse of a connoisseur.

He was absolutely gorgeous, a breathtaking sight that evoked emotions far deeper than you had ever imagined possible.

You leaned forward, resting your elbows on the wooden surface and clasping your hands together. "I didn't realize you'd miss me quite so much."

Mihawk looked up, his golden eyes briefly lingering on the necklace dangling from your neck before meeting your gaze. "I merely sought a quiet place to drink."

"Ah, and here I thought you'd traveled all this way just for me."

Mihawk's eyes narrowed slightly, though a ghost of a smirk played at the corner of his mouth. "Don't flatter yourself," he replied, his voice smooth as silk.

Your fingers grazed the table as you stood before him, allowing a charged silence to hang between you. "Well," you said, straightening up. "Since you're here, I might as well ensure you're properly taken care of."

“I’ll have another drink then.”

"Is that all? Have you sampled my mother's world-renowned apple pie yet?"

“The wine will suffice,” he replied coolly. "I require nothing more."

Undeterred, you offered him a genuine smile. "Oh, I highly recommend a slice. It’s divine. Besides, if you don't order it yourself, my mom will likely insist on serving you some. Trust me, you don't want to risk offending her."

Mihawk's lips tightened in contemplation. "I've faced far graver perils."

You laughed. "I'm not sure any of those compare to my mother's persistence. I'll bring you some wine, and a slice of apple pie, just in case."

As you departed, Mihawk let out a subtle exhalation. He had come to learn that arguing with you was futile, as your stubbornness rivaled the relentless force of a stormy sea.

Upon your return, you presented him with a slice of pie that was unexpectedly generous in size, bordering on excessive. He regarded it with a neutral expression as you topped off his wine glass, carefully filling it to a level that allowed for optimal enjoyment. Without comment, he grasped the fork and gently pressed it into the pie's airy consistency. He examined it meticulously, assessing its texture and density. To his silent admiration, the cake maintained its perfect form, not a single crumb out of place.

As Mihawk tasted his dessert, you occupied yourself with cleaning the counter and organizing the area. From his post at the entrance, your father kept casting furtive looks in your direction. Runa, busy with table service and final orders, openly scrutinized the scene at the counter, her expression hinting at some devious plan brewing in her mind.

You opted to disregard her, aware that paying her too much attention would only encourage her to put her chaotic schemes into motion.

Polishing glasses and aligning wine bottles, you fought to keep a professional demeanor, even as the object of your affection sat tantalizingly close, just an arm's length away. You should have known, however, that your cousin wouldn't let it drop.

Full of energy and exuberance, Runa bounced over to the counter where Mihawk perched, completely unfazed by his intimidating presence. Being young and boisterous, she seldom contained her reactions, often acting on impulse with little consideration for consequences. As Runa took the seat next to him, a discordant note rang out from your uncle's guitar. His younger son continued singing, while the rest of the patrons paid no attention to the brief musical mishap. The boy’s voice had grown noticeably harsh, betraying his clear frustration with his sister's brazen attitude.

Alas, there was no deterring her irrepressible spirit.

Without hesitation, Runa wrapped her arm around Mihawk's, leaning in with a teasing smile. Your face drained of color, and you shot her a deadly glare, which she blithely ignored.

"Hey, sir, you're treating Y/N well, aren't you?"

Mihawk tensed, his usual composure briefly faltering. He cast a fleeting glance at the young girl, barely turning his head, clearly unaccustomed to such bold familiarity.

Before he could respond, you quickly intervened, driven by an unbearable amount of embarrassment and annoyance. "Runa, mind your manners. You can't just latch onto strangers like that."

As you gave her another pointed look, her lips twitched. Still brimming with her usual cheerfulness and keeping her hold, she replied, “Come on, he’s family now, right?”

You wished the ground would open up and swallow you whole, dragging you into oblivion. The last thing you wanted was for Mihawk to think you'd been blabbing about him and whatever was blossoming between you two, precisely what you had carefully avoided discussing until now.

Mihawk remained stoic, though a hint of exasperation crossed his countenance. He fixed you with a piercing stare, his raised eyebrow silently conveying the question, “Is this what I've gotten myself into?”

Oh, she had really done it this time.

"Mihawk isn't part of our family, Runa. And he certainly didn't come here to be bothered while eating. Could you please be a dear and let go of him?"

With a dramatic pout, Runa finally released the Warlord’s arm. "Oh, alright. He's quite well-built though. Nice catch!"

Your eye twitched as she hopped off the stool with carefree abandon, skipping away like a carefree child.

You adored your young cousin, but her antics occasionally gave you quite the headache.

"I’m sorry," you said with a resigned sigh. "She clearly needs to work on her boundaries and social etiquette."

Bracing for a sharp retort, you were surprised when Mihawk simply relaxed his posture and took another bite of pie. "Your family is... spirited," he remarked, his tone flat but his eyes showing a glimmer of intrigue.

You chuckled softly, leaning closer to him again. His intoxicating scent mingled with the sweetness of cinnamon-spiced apples and caramelized sugar.

Your fingers grazed his, eliciting a subtle twitch in response. "Trust me. You haven't seen the half of it."

Exposing Mihawk to the full extent of your family's eccentricities was not high on your list of priorities. Nevertheless, his willingness to stay despite Runa’s quirks gave you hope that he still held you in high esteem, evidently unfazed by your relatives' shenanigans.

The night progressed with a lively mix of music, sumptuous meals, and cheerful conversation. Throughout the evening, Mihawk remained nearly motionless in his seat, seemingly lost in quiet contemplation while nursing his wine, taking measured sips at leisurely intervals.

You wished you could just whisk the Warlord away from prying eyes, but your duties at the tavern kept you tethered. Having been absent from home for so long, sneaking off with your romantic interest without explanation would be questionable at best.

As the hours slipped by and the last patrons trickled out, your family members gradually retired to their rooms. It was only then that you noticed Mihawk's disappearance; he had vanished from the main counter and was nowhere to be found.

Deflated, you sank into Mihawk's vacated stool with a heavy sigh, finding yourself distractedly tracing the freshly polished counter. Meanwhile, Runa moved briskly around the dining room, tucking chairs under tables and switching off lights as she went.

Noticing your glum expression, she tossed her hair over her shoulder. "Why the long face?"

"What long face?" you snapped, your voice sharper than intended.

"You look like someone just stole your favorite dessert right off your plate."

She sauntered behind the counter, crossing her arms and flashing a knowing smile, as if privy to a secret you hadn't yet discovered.

"I'm just tired," you replied, the lie tasting bitter on your tongue.

"Oh, come on. I'm not naive. If you're upset because your gentleman friend left, I might know where he went."

Your eyes widened, and your head snapped up as if jolted by an electric current. "Wait, you do?"

Her grin stretched impossibly, teeth gleaming in the dimly lit tavern. "Maaaayyybeee."

"And how exactly would you know that?" you asked, squinting suspiciously at her.

She waved one hand dismissively. "Relax, I'm not trying to pull a prank on you. He asked me about the quietest place in town, so I told him about that nice little hill you've always loved."

Your town was small and close-knit, where solitude was a rare commodity. Situated above the village, the hill served as your personal retreat before embarking on your journey, a quiet sanctuary away from the everyday hustle and bustle.

A smile tugged at your lips, impossible to conceal. "And here I thought you'd scared him off."

"Hey! Give me some credit," she protested.

"All right, sorry."

Runa slouched against the counter, tilting her head. "You really like that guy, don't you?"

"I could deny it, but I doubt any of you would believe me."

"Nope. Your eyes lit up like fireworks the moment you spotted him seated over here."

Had your reactions to Mihawk been so transparent, despite your best efforts to maintain a facade of casual indifference?

"You should go," Runa urged. "We're all wrapped up here anyway. And honestly, I'm about ready to collapse into bed."

You laughed warmly, ruffling her hair affectionately. "Thanks, you little troublemaker."

"Stop it!" she exclaimed, grinning despite herself.

As you rose from the counter, your cousin extinguished the remaining lanterns, plunging the tavern into darkness.

"Don't wait up for me."

"I don't plan to," she replied. "You grown-ups do your thing."

Driven by mounting impatience, you exited the tavern and strode along the road, taking your old shortcut and inhaling the crisp night air. The streets were nearly deserted, with only a handful of people visible—some huddled in corners, chatting and drinking, while others leaned unsteadily against walls, swaying in their drunken stupor.

Mihawk's presence in such a small town could only be attributed to you. A man of his stature and skill would find little to occupy himself in a place that offered no challenges worthy of his talents.

His decision to visit your family's workplace was undoubtedly deliberate and well-considered. Any astute individual would recognize that entering such an intimate setting would inevitably lead to curiosity and assumptions about your relationship.

“I doubt any man would come all this way if you weren't important to him."

With each step towards the hill where Mihawk awaited, your pulse quickened, a mix of hope and trepidation filling your veins. You worried you might find the spot empty, with the swordsman having already set sail for his next destination without giving you a second thought.

You knew it was irrational. You should have placed more trust in him, even as persistent self-doubt gnawed at you like a shark on its prey

You ascended the familiar path, winding through bushes and towering trees, leaving the rural outskirts behind. Your footsteps echoed in the stillness, the uphill trek feeling unexpectedly effortless compared to times past.

As you crested the hill, your worries vanished at the sight of Mihawk’s unmistakable silhouette lounging on the grass. His formidable sword lay at his side, while his hat rested casually over his face, creating a scene of unexpected tranquility.

With a gentle smile, you approached Mihawk silently, careful not to disrupt his serene state. You eased yourself onto the grass beside him, tilting your head back to admire the celestial canvas stretching endlessly above.

Though he remained motionless, you sensed his alertness, fully aware of your presence without needing to stir.

"I see you've discovered my secret retreat," you remarked with a lighthearted chuckle. "I don't mind sharing it with you, though."

His voice emerged from beneath the hat, cool and composed as ever. "Generous of you."

"Is that a nice way to tell me I'm interrupting your rest?"

“If that were the case, you’d already know,” he replied, his voice laced with subtle amusement.

“I’ll take that as a ‘no,’ then.”

After a brief pause, Mihawk added, "The quiet feels different with you around."

“Different how?”

Mihawk finally lifted his hat, just enough to cast a sidelong look at you. "Neither better nor worse," he mused. "Simply distinct."

Your smile broadened, appreciating the warmth in his words. "Is that a compliment?” You teased, gently nudging his side.

"If it pleases you to think of it that way."

You shifted closer, angling your body to face him directly. "Admit it. You can hardly stand to be without me now."

Mihawk arched an eyebrow, his eyes seemingly impassive, but the ghost of a smirk playing on his lips told a different story. "Not particularly," he drawled.

You propped yourself on an elbow, gently pushing his hat away. His golden irises instantly locked onto you, magnetic and mesmerizing.

"You can say it, you know. That you've gotten used to having me around."

He didn't reply immediately. His gaze flicked from you to the starry sky, where the moon cast a faint, silvery glow. Finally, with a feigned grimace, he murmured, "You're tolerable."

"Tolerable?” You tapped his side again, the gesture more akin to a gentle caress. “Is that what we're calling it now? Do you give a necklace to just anyone you find 'tolerable'?"

He let out a quiet huff, unaffected by your impish provocation. "Don't read too much into it. It suits you, that is all."

You laughed, seeing through his attempt to downplay the act. "Oh, of course, because that's such a casual thing for you to do." You moved in closer, eyes twinkling with mischief. "I suppose next you'll tell me you didn't sail all this way because you wanted to see me."

For a moment, his expression was inscrutable. Then, after a brief hesitation, he spoke in his characteristic measured tone, "Why would I? I'm accustomed to silence."

"Yet you prefer my company to break it?"

"I never claimed that."

You poked his side repeatedly, hoping to coax a proper reaction from the stoic swordsman. "Come on, admit it; you did miss me. There's no shame in it."

Mihawk's lips quirked into a hint of a smile as he deftly encircled your waist with his arm, drawing you near. With a touch of mirthful frustration, he placed his hand over your eyes, guiding your head to rest on his shoulder. Your laughter intensified, resonating with genuine joy in the serene night, as your fingers instinctively grasped the thick fabric of his coat.

With a fluid motion, Mihawk bent forward, closing the distance between you. His lips met yours in a sudden, intense kiss that left you breathless, silencing you with his sensual embrace and holding you entranced. As your mouth parted in surprise, his tongue gently explored, brushing against yours with the confident grace of a skilled hunter.

A soft moan of pleasure escaped you. Your fingers threaded through his hair while his hand remained over your eyes, creating an indescribable intimacy that redefined your understanding of romance. Whenever you thought he had reached the pinnacle of excellence, he consistently found innovative ways to amaze you.

When he finally broke the kiss, he reclined on the grass once more, his fingertips tracing delicate patterns on your eyelids absentmindedly. You savored the sensation of his touch, allowing him to continue until his hand slowly drifted down to rest on your shoulder.

Consumed by the love you nurtured for him, you nestled your face against his chest. "I really love it, you know."

"What is it you love?" Mihawk inquired.

"The necklace you gifted me."

He hummed in response. "I thought it would complement your style."

"It does, surely. And also..." You trailed off, feeling heat rush to your cheeks. Swallowing hard, you paused, holding back words that might lead to regret. “Well…”

Unfortunately, the die was cast.

"What is it?" he prompted, his voice a gentle encouragement.

Could you truly express the depth of your feelings, laying bare your emotions for him to see? Though he had made more than one bold move, Mihawk remained an enigma; his thoughts still a mystery to unravel, his intentions inscrutable.

Ultimately, you realized you had crossed a point of no return. Lying about it was pointless with him, it wasn't as though you had never expressed yourself aloud before.

"I was the one who truly missed you," you admitted innocently.

Mihawk's quietness was unnerving, almost deafening. But before you could reproach yourself for your lack of self-control, you felt the heat of his breath against your forehead. "What am I to do with you?"

It wasn't a question born of exasperation. His tone exuded something else, a warmth akin to fondness, despite the apparent indifference of his sentiments.

“Anything you want, really,” you declared.

"Careful with those words.”

You shook your head. "You know how it is, Mihawk. If I had to choose someone to end my life, I'd prefer it to be you."

"Nobody will end your life while I still breathe. And I certainly won't be the one to do it."

You closed your eyes as your hand glided across his skin. When your palm settled over his heart, you noticed something unexpected; though its rhythm remained steady, his heartbeat was quicker than you'd ever felt it before, throbbing powerfully beneath your fingertips.

It could be interpreted in various ways, from trivial to deeply consequential.

"If I were to die, would you mourn my loss?"

You nearly bit your tongue as that absurd idea flooded in you like a raging river. Try as you might, you couldn't sweep it away as quickly as it had come.

As you looked up, you caught sight of Mihawk's eyes rolling in mild annoyance. "What's with this morbid talk all of a sudden?"

"I don't know. It just crossed my mind. But I suppose I shouldn't expect too much, should I? It's not as if you need me."

"Don't underestimate my interest in you. I've already made it clear that I wouldn't invest my time in you if you weren't significant.”

As a whirlwind of emotions inundated you, a fresh burst of laughter erupted from your chest. "I really have to coax these truths from you."

"I don’t deal in meaningless words," he replied. "But you seem to have a habit of pulling them out of me.”

"I like hearing you express them, even if they're rare."

He observed you intently, his golden eyes gleaming like twin precious gemstones. “You’d rather I tell you than show you?”

"I appreciate both," you said thoughtfully. "But I must admit, hearing you express yourself so openly is particularly gratifying."

Mihawk adjusted his position, his arm still wrapped securely around you. "Then let me make this clear; your absence would not go unnoticed."

You lifted yourself, brushing your index finger along his jawline. "My, my. That almost sounded romantic."

Mihawk’s lips twitched. “Don’t push it.” His comment lacked its usual sharpness, instead tinged with an unprecedented tenderness.

You pressed a gentle kiss to his lips before curling back against his chest. "Fine, fine."

Your nails traced the bottom of his cross-shaped pendant, exploring its smooth metal surface and defined contours. Relaxing, you immersed yourself in the soothing symphony of nature, from the gentle rustle of leaves to the crickets' melodious chorus. In the distance, you could hear the murmur of townsfolk still awake, the occasional bark of a dog, and the rhythmic crash of waves against the shoreline.

Mihawk's chest rose and fell with regular breaths, creating a calming cadence that transported your senses to a world of your own. You felt yourself drifting, suspended between reality and dreams, as weightless as a feather floating on the breeze.

Just as sleep was about to claim you, his low voice rumbled through the night. "There's something you should know."

Your eyelids felt heavy, and your mind was growing foggy with drowsiness. “Mh?”

When he didn't respond, you dismissed it as a hypnagogic illusion, a trick of your sleep-addled state. But then his voice resonated again, revealing something you had never wanted to hear.

“I’ll be gone for some time.”

At those words, you jolted upright, your eyes wide as you stared down at his unruffled form. Your sleepiness evaporated in an instant. "What do you mean?"

"I have some matters that require my attention. It may be a while before I can return."

Your stomach twisted into knots, and for a moment, your breath caught painfully in your throat. "Oh."

Was that the true purpose of his visit? Had he journeyed all the way to your village to personally inform you of his impending departure from the East Blue, rather than disappearing without a trace?

It was noble, and you certainly found that rather complaisant. Still, it didn't change the fact that you felt the ground crumbling around you.

“So you came to say goodbye.”

"This isn't farewell."

"Really?"

With a sigh, Mihawk sat up straight, facing you. His expression was serious and resolute. "You ought to have more faith in what I say."

Although his repeated assurances and actions could prove his sincerity, a persistent doubt was rooted in the recesses of your psyche. His motives were clearly not a pretense, yet that skeptical inner voice refused to be silenced completely.

"What further proof do you require from me?"

You pressed your lips together, contemplating the most appropriate response to give him. As silence lingered, Mihawk reached for the golden pendant hanging around your neck. "I don't give meaningless gifts. This necklace is more than mere decoration."

“I know.”

"If you do, then cease doubting my will to see you again."

His fingers withdrew, but just as you were about to lift your head, they gently cupped your chin, guiding it upward.

"One moment you're full of confidence, even bordering on arrogance. And the next, you're second-guessing everything over some imaginary fear you've conjured up in your head."

Undoubtedly, he was right. You often exuded braveness, freely engaging in witty banter without restraint. However, beneath that exterior lay a persistent insecurity, the deep-seated anxiety of becoming unwanted or irrelevant, overshadowed by a lifestyle you might never attain.

Mihawk was a Warlord of the Sea. His residence was located somewhere in the Grand Line, a realm beyond the familiar waters of the East Blue that you likely lacked the courage to venture into.

"I've given you my word that I will return. That should suffice. The real question is whether you're interested enough to wait for me."

Your eyes stung, but you stubbornly blinked the forming tears away. You had attained the life you always dreamed of—an endless string of thrilling adventures that, while dangerous, filled your blood with just the right amount of adrenaline. Waiting for Mihawk to reappear had become increasingly difficult, yet you held an unwavering certainty that he would find his way back to you sooner rather than later.

Yet, the duration of Mihawk's absence remained uncertain now. His duties might keep him away for weeks, and your separation could stretch into months or even extend to years.

You acknowledged your tendency to dramatize the situation, and the thought of giving up on Mihawk was inconceivable. If maintaining your relationship meant enduring an extended period apart, you were determined to persevere.

You were a resilient adult who had weathered harrowing experiences. Surely, a prolonged separation paled in comparison to those trials, if you could trust in the authenticity of his promises.

Slipping back into your characteristic self-assured stance, you tilted your head with a smile. "Well, that goes without saying, doesn't it?"

Mihawk grunted under his breath, letthing his hand drop. "Has anyone ever told you that you can be quite vexing?"

You chuckled softly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "Sorry. I suppose that was a bit childish of me."

Mihawk's sharp features etched in shadow by the moonlight. “Childish, perhaps. But more than that, unnecessary. You know where you stand with me.”

"I do,” you murmured with a nod. “And that's precisely why I'm afraid of losing you."

His expression remained stoic, yet you perceived a gentle transformation in his features. “I don’t have the patience to constantly remind you of your worth, Y/N.”

Your grin vanished instantly, replaced by an expression of utter shock. Countless thoughts raced through your mind, but you couldn't focus on any of them. All you could process was the sound of your name, spoken aloud by Mihawk for the very first time since you'd known him.

And it felt exquisite, resonating in your ears like a perfectly struck chord.

“What did you just say…?”

"Has your hearing suddenly failed you?"

"No, I mean—" You touched his warm cheek with trembling fingers, his sideburns gently prickling your sensitive skin. "You said my name. You've never done that before."

"Unless you prefer I address you as 'Cutthroat' instead."

With a rapid intake of breath, you grasped the lapels of his coat and pulled him into another, fervent kiss. "Don't you fucking dare."

His right hand cupped your nape, holding you firmly in place as he deepened the kiss. With deliberate slowness, he lowered you onto the grass, his body pinning you down and pressing against yours. His mouth claimed yours hungrily, swallowing every enticing moan that escaped your lips.

And just like that, any residual doubts, fears, or personal insecurities you might have harbored finally dissolved, scattered like grains of sand in the wind, giving way to a clear path forward.

You silently hoped the wait wouldn't be long enough for time to leave its mark on your face.

Author's final note: Keeping Mihawk in character is a real struggle, especially when things become a bit more romantic. I swear, though, he's unique way of loving her is driving me crazy, in a good way. ♥

I might bring back some action in the next chapter, because I miss writing combat scenes. Also, I am considering to add another OPLA character, though I need to figure out the proper way to implement that specific idea.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 (currently reading) Go to Chapter 8 (coming soon) ->

[lycemagee]

Fragility And Madness

Roger finding out about Florence's Curse.

Roger was in his room leaning back on his seat, sighing heavily when Alfons just entered his Laboratory without announcing himself. He frowned looking at Roger, and just threw the paper he should deliver on his desk. He didn't say anything and wanted to leave again, when Roger opened his mouth and spoke the next words.

"I finally figured it out... Florence's curse..."

"Good for your research, I assume. But I will excuse myself now...", he said disinterested and turned away.

"It's the Wonderland curse...", Roger continued unbothered and Alfons stopped looking at him with raised eyebrows.

"Oh? Wonderland? Miss Florence plays the role of little Alice?", Alfons asked mockingly, couldn't imagine Florence in the role of this Naive and Innocent Girl.

Roger leaned forward and shook his head.

"No. Not Alice. It seems to be inspired by Alice in Wonderland, but it's Wonderland itself. Reading here: "The One inflicted with the Glassy Wonderland curse, they often have little relation to reality and try to build and maintain their ideal world. Lost in their beliefs, wishes and desires, they are easily manipulated as long as it fits into their world, and manipulate others in their fits as well. The first one known, they were the leaders of a sect, isolated, preaching their way of life and making promises to those who felt inspired.", Roger explained, going through the old documents Infront of him.

"A cult leader? Hard to imagine Miss Florence as a cult leader. What would she preach? Alcoholism and Dances?", Alfons chuckled, standing next to Roger looking at the documents, now being more interested.

"That's the reason it was hard to figure out her curse. Not only do we not have that much structured information, but she doesn't seem like the usual candidate for it. Those with the Glassy Wonderland Curse often influence and manipulate the people around them and with the help of their Memory manipulation, but Florence does not use her ability in this way-"

"She mostly manipulates herself.", Alfons interrupted him and Roger just nodded as an answer.

"You know, I figured it out, when she was with me sorting out information. The cunning woman held the curse documents in her palm. I requested them from Your Highness's palace library and she wanted to put them away, probably planning to destroy it. But I heard her heart pounding faster than usual and I caught her.", Roger said amused.

"I can imagine the piercing gaze in her eyes when you caught her. Did she try to stab you?", he asked sarcastically.

"No, but she tried to use her Curse against me.", Roger chuckled thinking back of Florence pissed face, when he blocked her hand.

"She really has a hatred of pesky people.", Alfons said with a sigh and shrugged his shoulders.

"But talking about it more, she didn't want to know anything about it. In the end I was able to get the documents, but she had such disinterest, almost an aversion. When I asked her why she did not wanna know anything about her curse, she said it wasn't important, because the information wouldn't have any effect on her life or its outcome.",

"Still playing the ideal world? Presumably she still has the plan to seal the memories of her curse after leaving Crown and living a 'normal' life. Whatever this means...", he said pejoratively, shaking his head.

"Hm... who knows if it's a good idea, to just run away. Maybe trying to run away from her fate will bring her the misery of it. According to the documents, the fate of those with the Glassy Wonderland Curse is to become so lost in their Wonderland that they can never find their way back to reality, distorted in the delusion they have built for their own perfect world.", Roger added as he looked at the document and heard footsteps, his next guest arriving.

"Roger! Can you help us pleaaase?", Liam called and Roger stood up, a bit too rough, letting some documents drop.

"Can you pick them up Al? Thank you!", Roger said quickly, not even giving him the possibility to protest. Alfons looked really annoyed, but slowly picked up the documents on the floor. He could just leave, but maybe he was curious about the information. Gathering more information could never hurt right? He quickly went over the texts, reading nothing interestingly. It's like Roger said, a lot of informations are superficial or poorly described. Sightings, stories and theories dominated the documents. Losing interest he dropped them lazy on the desk, but in between them there was a paper that looked different from the others. It had black markings and scribbles on it, and it looked like it had been frantically written down. There were stains of water or some other liquid and there was some text on the bottom.

"The Fate of the Cursed One is to be lost in their Wonderland, not able to return Reality. But the truth is, before they reach it, they will despair, twisting their wonderland and their world for so long, searching for their perfect land, but realising that in reality they will never reach it. They will never find peace, so they break their minds and their Wonderland, so that they will never leave their Wonderland ever again. In the end, only the shards of their land remain."

[peachymilkandcream]

Break Me Slowly|Part 22|Yandere Levi x Evelyn

(A/N: Happy New Year to all of my lovely followers! What a better way to kick off this year than with another chapter of Break Me Slowly. Tomorrow is the end of the holidays so I can get back into a proper writing schedule with MHMM coming out. As always I hope you enjoy and reply to this post to be added to the taglist!)

WARNINGS: noncon, dubcon, manipulation, domestic abuse, yandere themes, forced marriage, forced pregnancy, stockholm syndrome, violence, mind breaking, misogyny, etc.

==============================================

Her core burned for him, she was so needy she couldn't think straight. Had this separation taken a bigger toll on her than she thought? He was weak and wounded, she didn't have to do any of this, he couldn't force her to do anything, and yet she wanted it. He wasn't shredding the clothes from her body, she was taking them off willingly. She refused to let the momentum slow, noticing his interest in her bare chest and putting his hands on her. Levi pinched and squeezed, making her body clench on nothing, the wetness soaking through her panties.

Evelyn started to grind down on his hips, needing any friction to hold herself together. The rock hard bulge rose to meet her, instincts taking over as she rocked her hips faster.

A gasp caught in her throat when he took her nipple into his mouth, sucking, nibbling and flicking the hard point with his tongue. Each circle he made sent a jolt of desire straight to her cunt. She needed him, oh how she needed him.

Finally she pulled his face away from her breast, forcing her tongue into his mouth and earning a groan from the usually emotionless captain. He was letting her win this fight for authority, he wanted to see how much she wanted it. Most likely it was all ammo to be used in his manipulative arsenal but when he was this hard and she was this wet who the hell cared.

Their bodies belonged together. They yearned for each other. Maybe Levi was right, they were meant to be. Two assholes destined to kill and destroy anything in their path for the sake of winning this little game. They would burn the world to the ground if it meant triumph over the other and bragging rights. Perhaps the world should be afraid of Eldians, at this moment the fate of humanity was irrelevant compared to the passion and heat between them.

His dick was leaking in anticipation, desperate to be buried in her warm folds. Painfully hard and perfect, perfect to be deep inside her. Levi was so compliant and willing to let her have her way it was almost unnerving, so she hesitated, looking to him for permission.

"That's right, give in my dear."

All at once he's inside her, when she sits fully down on his hips he's so deep it feels like he's in her stomach. Evelyn can't help it, her body moves on its own, rocking with such desperation. Moans and gasps fall freely, her hands on his arms digging in to his flesh as all the sensations are too much.

He holds her steady, hands on hips guiding her to find a good rhythm. Every so often stilling her movements to sheath himself as deep as possible, ensuring she feels every inch and vein. Praises come from him when she's willing, calling her a good girl and encouraging her to do more.

She jumps and tries swatting his hand away when his thumb finds her clit, every jerk of the hips rubbing his digits against that bundle of nerves. He keeps his finger pressed firmly, determined to drive her over the edge and squeezing every drop of cum out of him.

All at once the familiar warm tingle washes over her entire body, making her ride him feverishly to continue the high for as long as possible. Her moans loud enough anyone could hear as she cries out his name over and over, as if begging him to stop and begging him to keep going all at once.

When she's through his dick twitches inside her as his cum fills her, his breathing slowly returning to normal when she collapses onto his chest.

As touch starved as he was, Levi desired nothing more than Evelyn willingly in his arms, holding her tight and kissing her forehead. "That's my girl."

===============================================

The return to camp was awkward to say the least. Evidently even in a forest of this size passionate sex would not go unnoticed. For fear of their hide no one would dare mention it however.

Reiner especially seemed distraught. Deep down he believed that what they had done was forced by the ruthless Captain and poor Evelyn was threatened to take care of his lust. The look of pure satisfaction in her eyes a coincidence of course. One of these days he would wring that midget's neck and then Evelyn would be free, free to be his. They could both forget the war, and be happy. According to what Evelyn had said in Marley no one believed her plight, perhaps it was time to expose Levi for the monster he really was.

=============================================

Later that night Reiner fumed over the closeness husband and wife shared. With so many men present Levi seemed especially possessive, never once letting his hand leave her thigh, and taking turns glaring at all present to ensure no one would challenge his authority. Hange wasn't spared from his gaze either, even though she would never think of trying anything with a married woman, it seemed Levi wouldn't put it past even her. His attitude and arrogance sent Reiner over the edge, he couldn't take it anymore, Levi thought he could get away with anything because of his status and strength. Well now it was everyone against him with no legality standing in their way of teaching this runt a lesson.

"Something wrong Reiner?" Since it was Evelyn who asked, the sole burning gaze of hatred was settled on Reiner from Levi.

"It's nothing." He mumbled, dropping his eyes.

"Oh, well if you're sure."

The gaze of smug satisfaction on the Captain's face at Reiner's cowardice pushed him to speak up regardless.

"Actually, there is." He pauses, taking turns looking at everyone. "My problem is when a man can get away with raping a woman and holding her hostage while everyone commends him as a great hero."

The look of warning flashes in Levi's eyes, daring him to say anything more and promising a consequence.

"What are you talking about Reiner?" The barely hidden annoyance in Jean's voice just adds to Reiner's frustration at the naivety of his now comrades.

"I'm talking about your beloved Captain Levi. The measures he's taken to ensure Evelyn is a docile servant destined to wait on him hand and foot."

A look of shock comes to Evelyn's face, disbelief in the fact Reiner would attempt to expose Levi here and now of all places. Whereas the Captain's jaw twitched, moments away from publicly executing this insolent cur.

"I know you have some hard feelings against Levi for what happened to Bertholdt but that's a bit too far." Hange's frown signified her disproval of this sudden attack on her friend.

"It's not far enough. Words don't do justice the horrific torture that man has placed on an innocent woman. And you all defend him because he lies through his rotten teeth!"

"Reiner enough-" Evelyn's voice is weaker than he had ever hoped to hear, she was trying to protect him from Levi's wrath.

"I can't just sweep this under the rug Evelyn! After all he's done to you he deserves to be hung in front of everyone as they expose him for what he is!" He stands and points a finger at Levi, who is uncharacteristically calm. "Well!? Don't you have anything to say!?"

Levi sighs, as if too bored to deal with this. "Have you any evidence?"

"Evidence? I have your own wife's confession!" He forcibly softens his gaze and looks at Evelyn. "It's okay, you can tell them."

The silence is heavy, she looks between the two and then the rest of those gathered. Levi's eyebrow is raised, a silent threat but also curious as to what she'll do.

"Levi..." She hesitates, making up her mind. She could be free right now, someone believes her and would back her up. Or she could continue the life she's been living with this man.

Reiner gives her an encouraging smile, prompting her to speak.

Finally she sighs, her mind made up. "Levi is a loving husband, I couldn't ask for a better friend and confidant."

The Captain's face contorts in a smug grin, pleased with her response. Whereas Reiner's face falls into despair and disgust.

"He's threatening her to say that! Can't you see that she feels she has to say that?"

"Enough Reiner, you've lost. I'll forgive these insults you've hurled against me if you drop it right now."

"Forgive me? Don't waste your breath, this isn't over you bastard. I'll find some way to make sure you never see the light of day again." With that he storms off, causing Connie to call after him.

"Where are you going?"

"To find somewhere else to sleep, I wouldn't put it past that devil to slit my throat." He marches off, vowing under his breath to get even with that smug son of a bitch.

[amethystina]

If The Gentle Light had continued, what, do you think, would Yo Han's immediate thoughts/feelings have been upon seeing Ga On again?

Well. I mean. I don't really think — I know. Because I'm sometimes forced to write down the Yo Han bits that just won't leave me the fuck alone. Usually just short snippets, often ones that aren't even connected, but yeah. If I don't, they'll keep looping inside my head, slowly driving me insane.

So anon can have some Yo Han POV, as a treat:

Yo Han took another sauntering step forward, gaze wandering over Kim Ga On's terrace. Pots, plants, and various tools littered the space, but it was by no means cluttered or disorganized. Everything had its proper place, either tucked away in practical plastic crates or arranged in neat little rows. Even the plants were positioned with great care, lining the otherwise empty space — enveloping it, turning it into something more than just a terrace.

Like a small oasis of life — delicate yet vibrant — right there in the heart of Seoul.

Yo Han shook his head and walked over to the shelf placed against one of the walls, plants of all shapes and sizes crowding together inside it.

How very like Ga On, to surround himself with so much life.

And to be so desperate for something to care for that he hoarded these frail little plants, showering them with the love and affection he couldn't find an outlet for elsewhere. It seemed that Kim Ga On might very well cease to exist if he wasn't allowed to care for and nurture the living and breathing things around him, the need going beyond instinct into outright compulsion.

That innocence and selflessness was a weakness — a big, blinking target, so easy to exploit — but, at the same time, so breathtakingly beautiful it only added to Ga On's radiance.

Yo Han was frustrated by how much he adored it.

He reached out and slowly ran his finger along the leaf of one of the nearby plants. Yo Han was no expert, but it looked paler than it probably should have — closer to yellow than green. He frowned, his gaze flicking between the plants in front of him.

Almost every single one of them looked the same.

Discolored, with drooping leaves, some even edged with dry, crusty browns.

A small flicker of discomfort — of dawning realization — was all the warning Yo Han got before his chest clenched. He had no time to brace himself, the bloom of concern fierce enough to almost knock the breath out of him.

The implication was all too clear.

Kim Ga On might be withering away faster than Yo Han had anticipated.

___

Though I guess that's technically BEFORE he sees Ga On? So here's the one when he actually turns around and sees him for the first time in months:

Yo Han had pictured the moment many times over. He'd wondered — maybe even fantasized — what it would be like to see Ga On again after so many months apart. But none of those scenarios, each studied and evaluated down to the smallest detail, could prepare Yo Han for what he actually found when he turned around.

Not even once, at any point during his musings, had Yo Han thought that the first thing he would feel was a sharp, painful pang of guilt.

The eyes meeting his — those soft doe-eyes, usually so bright and vibrant — were flat and empty. They looked too big on Ga On's face, too black and bottomless against the paleness of his skin. As if there was nothing but a gaping emptiness behind them.

There was no spark. No light.

Nothing.

The world seemed to shift, just a fraction, but still enough to make Yo Han's stomach drop. The curl of dread was paralyzing.

He'd always known he was fated to eventually smother that gentle, fragile light, but he hadn't expected it to happen like this.

Not this soon.

He wasn't ready for that loss yet. He honestly never would be.

And so, for once, Yo Han didn't know what to do — or even how to react. The longer he stood there, staring into those blank eyes, the more the guilt grew. He could feel it seeping into his veins, slowly taking hold.

It hurt to breathe.

A pain which didn't ease even when something finally did shift inside Ga On's eyes. Because what Yo Han saw wasn't life, excitement, or even hope, but the heart-wrenching hunger of a desperate, half-starved creature, so weak it was a miracle it could even function.

The emptiness in Ga On's eyes suddenly made sense.

He was empty. And Yo Han could see the hunger growing — the near-frantic need to fill that cold, hollow space. And he knew exactly what had caused it.

Exactly what Ga On needed in order to fill that void inside of him.

If Yo Han had wanted to make Ga On less dependent on him, he'd failed.

___

... I guess the short answer would be: "... oh fuck."?

Bear in mind that I currently have no plans (or time) to write another chapter from Yo Han's POV, but yeah. I hope you enjoy the snippets?

Also, to be entirely honest with you all, it fucking hurts to write Yo Han's POV, especially these emotional scenes x'D Like, I feel for Ga On when I write about him and his struggles, I definitely do. But Yo Han is too similar to me in how he deals with and processes emotions so I'm, like, in agony when I write stuff like this because I can relate to it too much.

So some of my stubbornness not to write his POV is honestly sheer self-preservation at this point x'D

[odder-oddish]

Between Breaths

From the beginning, they had each other. Though that was sometimes more of a curse than a blessing. The constant threat of a painful death doesn't leave much time for connection, but two souls move closer nonetheless. A look into the progression of Claudette and Meg's relationship, through glimpses of the different trials AKA, I absolutely adore this ship and think these two were made for each other. Because if there's one more thing we need in this world, it's queer women.

Also, this is my account now. I posted once about a week ago on @oddest-oddish, but now, I can't even log into it. So, it's me again, with a new blog and a hope that things go a little more smoothly.

The nurse is downright terrifying. Meg has seen her four times now, and only escaped against her once. Having Nea around certainly evens the playing field; it's nice having another competent survivor around. The two of them trade hits for each other and manage to steal the attention of some of the killers when the other needs a breather. But there's only so much she can do.

Meg hates her role in many of the trials. She knows that she could act more selfishly, like Dwight or Claudette do, but when her heart starts going, she can't help but step into the spotlight, always going out fighting, often the only one in the group willing to take the risk.

Which leads to her current predicament. Her shoulder is bleeding badly, having been dug into by a rusty bone saw several times already. Meg's head is pounding as she runs back to the top floor of the coal tower, the nurse right on her heels. The generator up here must have been recently finished, as it hadn't been lit up the last time she was here. The nurse teleported right next to her, but Meg was faster, bolting out of reach and leaping off the building.

As she ran from the tower, Meg spotted movement behind a stack of crates. Claudette was kneeling behind them, attempting to remain out of site from the nurse. So this was why generators still weren't finished. Who knew how long she'd just been waiting around, letting everyone else take the heat from the killer.

"Would you stop being a coward and do something?" Meg shouted, loud enough for Claudette to flinch and back away from her. It wasn't just the nurse she had to worry about; Meg was furious. "I've been running my ass off over here"

"So-Sorry. I'm sorry," Claudette whisper yelled, but as the nurse came in for the kill, she still made no move to help.

Meg cursed at Claudette as the bone saw knocked her to her feet. While she hadn't succeeded in evading the nurse, she had piqued the killer's curiosity. Instead of picking up Meg, the nurse began to look around, locating Claudette and beginning chase.

Maybe it was cruel, but Meg felt a smug sense of satisfaction as the nurse dropped Claudette on a hook only a minute later. That feeling was quickly replaced with a tearing pain as Meg met the same fate soon after.

____________________

The Hillbilly was a cruel killer, especially today. After knocking Meg to the ground with a vicious attack from his chainsaw, he left her bleeding out on the ground. Maybe a nearby generator was nearing completion and he wanted to disrupt the progress or perhaps he'd seen someone else and wanted to give chase. Either way, Meg was left on the ground, slowly bleeding out. Her vision was blurry and her head hurt. She felt like crying, but forced herself to stay strong, trying to get back on her feet.

Suddenly, she heard a rustle in the bushes. Through hazy eyesight, she made out a familiar brown jacket nearby.

"Help me dammit!" she said, voice strained. The figure, Claudette, made no effort to move. "He's not even here. Either help me out or do a generator or something." Nothing.

"I'm coming Meg, hang on," shouted another voice.

___________________

The Trapper must have been having a bad day. That or he really wanted Meg dead. He'd been so focused on chasing her that Meg hadn't come across a set trap yet. Sure, there were times he'd leave her, but those were probably to chase David or Feng Min. At least, that's what Meg assumed.

"Maybe stay away from the gas station," she told David, as he and Claudette worked together to bandage her injuries. "He broke a lot of the pallet over there. Nothing you need to worry about, of course." The last sentence was directed towards Claudette, who bowed her head, looking away from Meg. She finished wrapping Meg's shoulder then turned away, probably to sit in the corner again.

Several minutes later, Meg was running through stacks of abandoned cars, evading the trapper when she saw Claudette from the corner of her eye. She was about to yell instead when a loud snap stopped her. Claudette was hunched over a massive bear trap, having just disarmed it.

Later, as she ran to the old shack after knocking a pallet over the trapper's head, Claudette's head poked up from the other side of the window. She held up a hand to stop Meg from leaping over the window as she once again disarmed a set trap.

Wait, had she been doing this the whole time? Maybe the trapper had been setting up traps, but if Claudette was sneaking around behind him, she could have stopped him from getting any use out of them. Meg gave Claudette a curt nod before turning to the generator in the shack. As it neared completion, Claudette scurried off again, this time to close a trap in front of the exit that Meg definitely wouldn't have seen.

"Good eyes," said Meg, as Claudette began to open the door.

"Thank you. I'm happy to support you when you keep putting yourself in danger for us," she answered.

____________________

Claudette was indeed becoming an extremely supportive teammate. Sometimes, when Meg was injured, Claudette would follow blood trails on the ground and find her to give her a quick patch-up. She worked on generators whenever she wasn't needed elsewhere to keep the team moving towards their goal. Recently, she'd asked Jake to teach her how to break the hooks. Because she moved so stealthily, killers didn't know she was nearby until she was there, knocking the hooks to the ground. Meg began to appreciate seeing her near the campfire as they burned offerings together, preparing for the trial ahead.

"Do you want this back?" Meg asked after an extraordinarily easy trial. They were waiting by the exit, waiting for Yui to work her way around the map, just in case the Clown managed a lucky couple hits. She held out a flashlight to Claudette. Meg had been using one of her own at the beginning of the match, and when the batteries ran out, Claudette came out of nowhere, pressing a new one into her hand.

"No thank you. I don't use them often, and I found a really good med-kit in the basement," Claudette answered. "Thank you though. I appreciated you saving me earlier."

"Couldn't have done it if you hadn't found it for me," said Meg, clicking it a couple times. "Hey, can I show you something that might help you in the future when you're jumping windows?"

Claudette nodded, so Meg led her over to a nearby window. "If you put more effort into the initial jump, and then use your hand as a guide, you can avoid hitting your feet against the top of the ledge." Meg took a running start and cleared the window with ease. "It's a lot quieter this way, so the killers won't notice. Give it a shot."

Claudette ran towards the window and tried to copy Meg's move. But without the same level of coordination, her hand slipped and she tumbled over the window instead. Meg immediately rushed to her side. "Fuck. I didn't explain that well. Try to focus on getting more heigh on your lower foot," she said. "It takes a lot of power. Even I can't pull it off consistently."

While they waited, Claudette tried a couple more times, eventually clearing the vault silently, though she staggered a lot as she landed, trying to right herself after the vault. Meg whooped for her, and at the same time, she saw Yui in the distance.

"Let's get outta here," she said, opening the exit door. "Maybe we'll find a fallen tree and you can give it another go."

"I'd like that," said Claudette, offering a bright smile that Meg had rarely seen. Her heart thumped aggressively, and she didn't think this was the Clown's doing.

____________________

The first generator had been completed without anyone being found. Either the killer was having a rough start or someone was being stalked. Meg shuddered at the thought of the latter but brushed it off as she leapt over a window to the bottom deck of the abandoned ship. To her surprise, she landed just inches away from where Claudette was standing. When she saw her, Meg's jaw dropped.

Meg had always thought Claudette was attractive, in the cute, nerdy sort of way. But today, she was wearing a sleeveless golden dress with a stunning pattern embroidered on the front. It was backless, and Meg had to tear her gaze away before she got too distracted by her friend. Were they friends now? Claudette's hair, which was almost always pulled up or fit under a hat, hung freely, framing her face perfectly. She was stunning.

Meg wasn't the only one distracted by Claudette's outfit. The other woman was looking at the swamp ground hesitantly, sticking a foot out almost as if she was testing the temperature of the pool.

"You good?" asked Meg, voice oddly hoarse in her throat.

"Oh, you startled me. It's just, all muddy and gross, and I'm wearing sandals and…" Claudette trailed off.

Meg frowned. They'd been through a lot worse than this. Through the months, Claudette had braved chainsaw wounds, hatchets to the back, and drops from second story buildings. A little mud shouldn't mean much, unless-

"Is it like, one of your sensory things you told me about?" asked Meg.

Claudette nodded. "I don't like the way it feels on my feet. It's all cold and distracting." She looked embarrassed about it.

In the distance, Jane screamed in pain. They had to get moving to make the most of their early lead. "What size are they?" Meg asked.

"Um, I don't know. Probably like an eight," said Claudette, clearly confused by the question.

"Not much smaller than mine." Meg kicked off her shoes and gestured to them. "Will these work?"

"I- are you sure, Meg?"

"Course. Need you on your A game for this."

"Thank you so much," said Claudette, hurrying to slide the shoes on. They clashed horribly with the dress. Meg privately thought she looked adorable with the mismatch, then cursed herself for thinking it.

Meg didn't know for sure that the shoes made a difference, but the trial went smoothly. Twice she looked up to see Claudette running from the Trickster, ducking and weaving around throwing knives. She looked confident, in control. Meg watched as she faked moving one way before running back and slamming a pallet down on his head. Claudette had come so far in these trials, and she was a thrill to watch.

Next to her, David cleared his throat loudly. "We're supposed to be doing generators, not oglin' our teammates," he said roughly.

"Shut it," said Meg, but she ducked her head down and began working with some of the wires on the generator.

The rest of the trial went by quickly, Claudette and Jane keeping the Trickster from getting a single hook. On her way to the gate, Meg spotted Claudette's sandals on the boat. She hooked a finger through the ankle straps and carried them with her. Maybe she'd appreciate having them back.

____________________

"Meg, you okay?" Claudette asked, pulling her off the hook. Meg had spent the last five minutes running from the Hag, and only one generator was left. She panted from exertion, sweat sticking her hair to her forehead.

"Yeah. Let's get out of here. No point patching me up when we're so close to finished." Meg began to walk to the basement of the preschool. Suddenly, there was a gasp behind her. Claudette grabbed her around the midsection, pulling her back.

"Trap!" she said. Meg looked down. Claudette was right. One more step and she would have stepped on one of the Hag's traps, summoning her right to them. She'd almost gotten them both killed.

"Good eye," said Meg, straining to catch her breath. "I owe you one."

"Just, be careful next time."

Suddenly, Meg became extremely aware of the fact that neither she nor Claudette had attempted to move. They were still standing at the top of the stairs, Claudette's arms wrapped around Meg's middle. The preschool was a rather chilly realm, so having someone this close was… warm. Calming.

All too soon, and yet, far later than she should have, Claudette's arms dropped to her sides. "Here, let me destroy it, and we'll get this generator done." Meg nodded and followed Claudette to the basement, her mind slightly hazy, lingering on the touch.

And that night, if she wrapped her arms around herself and pretended it was someone else, who could blame her?

____________________

Dying to the Entity wasn't as bad when Meg knew she was the only sacrifice of the trial. The ground was alight as the realm threatened to collapse on them all, and the Huntress had posted up right in front of Meg's hook, hatchet in hand, humming that dark lullaby. They'd been extra sharp this time; a single blow had knocked Meg to the ground.

But knowing that her friends would escape made the pain more bearable. Three of them surviving made it all feel okay.

Suddenly, she heard a noise from behind her. "Dun dun duuun duun duun duuuuun," a low voice was copying the Huntress' tune, a poor mimicry of the original. The Huntress turned, searching for the source of the sound and Ace popped his head out from behind a bush, clicking his flashlight and shouting at her.

"Ace, what the hell?" she shouted, when suddenly, hands were at her sides, pulling her off the hook. Claudette had used the lapse in the Huntress's attention to pull Meg off the hook. She held a finger to her lips, and Meg did her best to hide her cries of pain as they ran for the exit. They were just about to leave when Meg spotted a glowing totem next to a rotting fence. It definitely had not been lit the last time Meg passed it.

"Hah- you missed me! Is that the- wait why are you so fast?" Ace shouted in the distance.

"Take this," said Claudette. She handed Meg her med-kit before crouching down to destroy the totem.

"So I take it we're gonna go save grandpa?" Meg asked, pulling out gauze and beginning to treat the worst of her wounds.

"If that's ok. He didn't want to go back, but insisted I didn't go alone."

"Saving me was your idea?" Claudette was never one for reckless rescue attempts. She assumed it had to have been Ace's plan (it certainly wasn't Felix's). But Claudette had insisted they come back for her. Meg's heart did a weird flip again as she finished bandaging herself up.

Claudette nodded as she finished cleansing the totem. "Shall we?"

"Yeah, we got this. Together."

What followed was sixty seconds of absolute chaos. The two picked Ace off the ground while the huntress searched a nearby locker for another hatchet. After dodging the next throw, the women shielded Ace from a nearby hit before Felix stole her attention, running for the opposite door. With Ace staggering along behind them, Meg and Claudette made it back to the original exit.

"Thanks, man," Meg told Ace as they passed through the open doors.

"Don't mention it," said Ace. "I was just surprised Claudette suggested it. Well the whole distraction bit was my deal, but she was adamant we go back for your ass." Claudette looked away as soon as she was mentioned, hiding her face in her jacket. Curious.

"Felix is never gonna let you hear the end of it," said Meg, punching him in the shoulder. The Huntress's melody carried over the air, so the three of them left the realm.

"I know, I know," said Ace. He sighed dramatically but couldn't help but smile at his partner's mention.

"I think it's sweet," said Claudette. "Having someone look after you like that."

"You mean like you just did?" Meg asked. It was meant to be a joke, but Claudette's expression immediately went blank. She sped up through the fog, hurrying back towards camp. "Did I say something wrong?" she said to Ace.

"I don't know. You tell me," he said. His eyebrows were raised high above the lenses of his sunglasses, and he seemed to be holding back a laugh. They returned to camp, Meg even more confused than ever.

____________________

The generator must have been about halfway completed as Meg approached it. She could hear muffled voices as she climbed the stairs of the asylum. She peeked into the doorway to see Zarina and Claudette working. Zarina was laughing about something as they worked.

"You don't really think so, do you?" asked Claudette. Her voice had risen in pitch and taken an airy tone, a sign she was embarrassed.

"What are you guys talking about?" Meg asked, opening a nearby chest.

"Nothing!" Claudette's answer came suspiciously quick and Zarina laughed again.

Towards the end of the trial Claudette was running for her life from the Oni. One more unfortunate hit and she was dead. He chased her into a narrow passageway between two large walls, easily closing the distance.

Zarina was just outside the alley, but not close enough to help out. Without thinking, Meg leapt over the wall's only window, coming between Claudette and the demon as his sword swung down. She grunted in pain and Claudette made a surprised noise. "Let's go!" shouted Meg. With Zarina's assistance, the women made it to the gate that Yun-Jin had finally gotten open.

Zarina leaned in close to Claudette. "I told you so," she said, just barely loud enough for Meg to hear.

Claudette slowed as they made their way back to camp. She was always quiet, but her expressions seemed even more stoic. Her eyes were glassy and she kept looking up at Meg before quickly averting her eyes. Meg wanted to ask what she was thinking about, too see if Zarina had offended her or made her upset, but she sensed that now wasn't the time. Meg would just have to wait and see.

____________________

"Did we all make it?" asked Meg, running up the hill of the swamp towards the exit gate where her best friend waited.

"Yeah, I had the siblings leave early. They're a little too new to risk having them wait behind," said Claudette.

"Aw, waiting for me all by yourself? You almost sound like you care about me."

"You know I do." Claudette took Meg's hand as they left the trial grounds together. Meg's heart leapt at the touch as they headed out into the fog.

____________________

"Claude, I've got another EMP if you need it." Meg entered the shack with the device in hand. A strange orb was stuck to Claudette's back, and two others lined the shack's walls.

"That'd be great," said Claudette, busy at a generator. Meg fired the device and the mess on Claudette's shirt disappeared. "Thanks."

Meg nodded and knelt by her side. The generator was nearly complete, so in a few seconds, the shack was filled with a bright light. "Remember when all we had to deal with was chainsaws and bear traps?" she asked. "Now we're fighting evil robots with 3d printers."

"A lot sure has changed," said Claudette. "You don't run full speed at the killer anymore."

"And you don't sit on the sidelines, letting me."

"Touche."

____________________

Meg was nearly finished with a generator in the red forest when she heard two sets of footsteps. The people were out of view. Meg left the generator to join them when she heard the sound of Claudette gasping in pain, but froze when she heard a voice.

"So, are you two like, official yet?" came a low, yet feminine voice.

"Elodie, shh. She's in this trial, you know," Claudette answered.

Meg turned the corner to see Elodie and Claudette. The older woman had a med-kit and was mending a tear on Claudette's arm. Claudette's other arm was covering her face; she was completely flustered.

"Hey guys, need some help with that," Meg asked, crouching down next to them. Claudette made a small sound of embarrassment but leaned closer to Meg anyway. The chainsaw had left gnarly gashes on her side, taking a little more time to patch up.

"There, all better!" Meg announced after a moment. She leaned forward and placed a kiss on Claudette's forehead.

"Meg!" she gasped. Elodie chuckled and left to find a different generator.

"Sorry. You're just adorable when you're flustered," said Meg, not sorry in the slightest. Claudette's face scrunched up further as Meg led them back to the generator.

"You're lucky I love you," said Claudette. Meg froze on the ground, looking up at her. Claudette seemed frightened at what she'd just said, covering her face with her hands. "I- I'm sorry. I know we haven't been a thing for long, but just, I've known you for so long and-"

"Claudette, it's okay. I feel the same way; I just don't know if I can say it yet. But it's alright. I liked hearing you say it." Claudette didn't move, so Meg pulled her into a hug and held her for a moment.

"Thank you," whispered Claudette.

"You're welcome. But you kinda smell like shit right now, so let's get out of here before anymore cuddles, okay?"

Still flustered, Claudette joined Meg at the generator, and it lit up a moment later. When the trial ended, Meg threw an arm around her, going to make good on her promise.

____________________

"What?"

"Nothing!"

"Dude, you're staring."

Meg, Claudette, and Dwight were all working on the same generator surrounded by a corn field. Jake was somewhere else, running from the Wraith. The trial felt like it had years ago, when it was just the four of them. And yet, as Meg looked at her girlfriend, she realized just how much had changed.

Dwight kept glancing up from the generator, looking between the two women. He opened his mouth as if he had something to say, then closed it.

"Just spit it out already!" said Meg.

"Fine. But, please don't be mad," said Dwight.

"Whatever. Just say it."

"Okay, okay. Wouldn't- wouldn't the generator get done faster if you weren't holding hands?"

____________________

I just, I like these two. They make me happy. More writing coming soon. I've got a few different pieces in the works. Open to suggestions or requests, btw, so let me know if there's something you'd like to read more of.

[lepidusoccisor]

Faceclaim: Margot Robbie

Name: Cashmere Resplendence

Age: 31

Gender: Cis-woman

Home: District One, though she does have an apartment in the Capitol.

Role: Victor of the 64th Hunger Games

Personality: Arrogant, Conceited, Controlling, Dignified, Logical, Gregarious 

Song: Dollhouse - Melanie Martinez

CHARACTER BIOGRAPHY

Tw: forced prostitution

Being a career is a duty for many children in One. It’s a sentence bestowed upon the children by their parents, often before the child can think for themselves. The fault in that lies in the inability of every child to win, the inability for every child to come home with a crown on their head. So, in this duty, this sentence doled out by the parents, they are resigning their children to death even if that is not how they look upon it. Some children… they realize this before their time comes. 

Cashmere was not one of such children. Cashmere wanted for love and attention, always in her brother’s shadow it seemed. Jealousy colored the lenses through which she looked. But a soul would never know looking at her. Always the dutiful daughter. Always the doting sister, but always striving to be better. Her brother was her best adversary. Together they made one another stronger, better, faster, more skilled - always trying to out do one another. They were a force to be reckoned with at the Academy when working together and so it hadn’t come as a surprise when he’d been chosen to volunteer. He was older, but with she herself running out of years, she worried she’d not receive her chance. 

However, her worries were unmet when she was chosen for the 64th Hunger Games before her brother even came home from the 63rd. It was uncommon to be chosen so soon after the end of one year’s games, but not unheard of. Cashmere took it to mean she was just that good. Of course she was. She’d take the next year to casually drop that little tidbit when around her brother, always finding ways to gloat even to the newest Victor of District One. She never would have guessed there might have been other causes for her being chosen, causes even perhaps outside of District One. 

But, she would go on to win, throwing herself into the spotlight and her brother even more so. It was only with the crown on her head that she would find happiness, however it was short lived. A personal audience with the President the night of her Victor’s Ball followed by a night forced to endure int he presence of a Sponsor dashed that away quickly. It seemed the sentence of being a career was one that just kept on giving, especially when one was so intent on outshining one’s brother. 

Nonetheless, Cashmere refused to let the world in, living behind the glass walls she’d made herself. Always with a facade in place. She’d smile for the cameras, do as the president told her, be the perfect victor. No one would know what happened behind closed doors. Except her brother. Sibling rivalry gave way to a need for someone who understood, someone to be a shoulder to cry on. One could only hide behind a facade for so long and they were in the spotlight together - Sibling Victors from District One? Oh, their fate was sealed forevermore.

Not even a rebellion could peel away the layers with which Cashmere protected herself. As a war brims around her, her facade is so sealed into place that she still smiles and puts on the act of loyal victor. Never a harsh word could be spoken about the Capitol or the country, much less the government and at its helm President Snow. Even if those thoughts lurked in the back of her mind, even if freedom of the cruelty that was life even as a victor. No, she would always be loyal on the surface. 

[averysexyleon]

Miranda's Crystal making vs Ethan and Roses

She had similar black spots on her skin.  Fluid trickling from her nose.  She was choking, and speaking rapidly in Romanian.  Ethan’s heart began to beat faster at the sight of her, but this was not Miranda in the flesh (or the mold.)  It was simply a memory.  The memory he’d asked to see.  Miranda braced herself up, pulling the buttons on her dress shirt aside to reveal more blackened splotches.  

He had no idea what she was saying, but now the woman grimaced, grasping one of the wounds with her thin fingers.  She extended her other hand, and a mycelial root slithered into it, linking her directly to the mold’s network.  The disgusting branches writhed around her almost expectantly and she screamed in pain, grasping at the stomach wounds. 

Ethan’s glare was intense as he watched her other hand, the one extended, reach out and turn palm up.  For a moment, Miranda’s eyes turned white, or rolled back in her head, and then from her palm, spikes danced and churned.  Her screams of pain turned to a rather gasping sort of maniacal laugh.  Miranda’s eyes shot open as she watched the crystal grow in her palm.  After another several moments she cradled it in both hands, her laugh less relief and more crazed power seeking as the woman’s fingers danced over the item. She grasped it so hard that her fingers were cut all over and began to bleed black, but she didn't even seem to notice. 

The crystal shone bright white, so bright it was almost blue, but as Miranda continued to caress it, it dimmed to a silvery sheen.  In a flash the image was gone, leaving Ethan to stare at a particular patch of nothing in the garden. 

With a nod of resolve, he dipped down to one knee and Maricara stood the toddler in her pajamas on the ground.  Rose was undeterred by the chill on her socks, and she immediately made her way to Ethan, her chubby fingers grabbing his thumbs. 

Ethan smiled at her, the babbles causing him to lose focus, but now he could feel the pull from the ground.  Stronger now.  He lowered both long legs, tucking them underneath him, feeling the bite of cold ground as he settled forward.  There was a growing sort of energy around the pair of them, and he wondered what it meant.  

As if reading Ethan’s mind--or perhaps he just felt the buzzing himself, as a creature of electricity, Heisenberg raised a palm and brought a magnetic field around the group.  The act didn’t change the engineer’s expression at all, but years melted from the Roma woman’s face as she basked in the strange magic that no doubt had filled her youth.  And Rose squealed as she always did whenever Karl did…well, pretty much anything.  

Ethan didn’t even have to ask for help this time.  It seemed like the most natural thing in the world, to tear this ‘essence’ as the Duke liked calling it, from his body.  The fluctuating and rotating fields moved around them like a pulse, urging the spirits? Souls? Forward.  Rose felt like an oppositional magnet to him, pulling what felt like splinters toward his upturned palms.  The white beads of--sweat? Mold? Now began to look like salt crystals, forming over the surface of his palm and cracking as they expanded in several directions.  

Maricara nodded almost knowingly, but Heisenberg’s was a true face of wonder as he gazed at the pair.  Though she was silent, Eva’s form was visible here and she clapped.  After several more seconds, Ethan exhaled deeply and realized that the pain and odd sensations in his body had left him during the process.  

And now he had two crystals, one in each palm.  They were translucent white, full of spikes, resembling multi-pointed stars.  The blond now clasped them and turned his hands over, inspecting his often ill-fated fingers.  

Healed, normal.  

One crystal was dropped as he clawed over his torso.  No wounds. 

Karl dropped the field abruptly and metal clanged to the ground all around them.  

“I’ll be damned,” came Heisenberg’s voice.  

[niragisimp]

Chishiya x OC One Shot

// A bit of a fluff one shot, Chishiya and a fem!OC both having attraction, though neither realizing it lmao, enjoy please.

Masterlist

It had been two months since Ayane joined the Beach. It was at the tagger game when she saw him for the first time, his white hair and a hoodie, not a worry in the world. He watched from above on the seventh floor as everyone scurried about, bodies dropping faster than they could run. After hiding under the stairs as the Tagger walked by, she caught his eyes, eyeing her down to her very soul. She didn't freeze often, but being under his gaze anything was possible.

Ayane couldn't get him out of her mind since. After the game, she had tried to get his name but he just smirked, hands in pockets as he strode to a car with a bulkier man. It wasn't long before fate put them together again, two games later. She caught his gaze on her more than once, his hood up as to not draw attention to himself. She could feel his eyes regardless, watching her intently.

Ayane tried to push her feelings to the side, thinking that distractions only got in the way in this place. He approached her this time after the game, his face showing no signs of stress. "Chishiya." She could feel her heart beat loudly at his words, "I'm sorry..?" "My name. Chishiya." Her face heated under his gaze, "Ayane." She did her best to give a kind smile without her heart literally beating out of her chest, extending her hand.

Chishiya looked at her hand curiously, not extending his back. "You should come to the Beach." Ayane looked at him curiously, "Like... The Ocean, beach? It's kinda far," she said questioningly. He smirked and let out a chuckle, "Come with us." His words were like hypnotism to her ears as she nodded her head without question, "Um, sure."

Ayane was never good with men in the real world. She was normally easily intimidated, and never stood up for herself, but this place had changed those aspects in her. She often would dream of being a housewife, cooking dinner for her hard-working husband when he got home from work, but could never muster the courage to talk to a boy. Now, just staying alive was an accomplishment. She wanted to go home, go back to school, fall in love for the first time. She had hoped deep down, as ridiculous as it sounded, that she could meet Chishiya there, hoping he could be her first love.

Chishiya wasn't good with feelings. They were unpredictable, useless things that got in the way of true issues. But whenever he looked at Ayane, his heart skipped a beat and a half. He tried to distance himself when she came to the Beach, repeating over and over to himself that he only brought her here to benefit himself and his endgame. But whenever he grabbed chips in the cafeteria, she was there. Whenever he met with Kuina poolside, Ayane was there. His eyes always wandered to find her, unwilling to himself, hoping to catch a glimpse.

Kuina snapped her fingers in front of Chishiya's face, "Hey! Are you alive?" He blinked a few times, snapping back to reality. He looked at her, patting himself down, "Yeah. Looks like it." She tilted her head at his sarcasm, turning her head to look at where Ayane was standing by a small group of people. Kuina grinned, looking back to Chishiya. "Soooo... That new girl, huh?" She nudged him with her elbow, grinning from ear to ear. The blonde didn't waver, "Yeah. What about her?"

She sighed, resting her head on his shoulder nonchalantly, "You've been staring at her for over a minute now. You're still staring!" He stood up, turning his back, and began to walk away. "I don't know what you're talking about." Kuina got up and chased him down, "Oh, come on! Why are you running away?" He didn't pay her another glance as he faced forward, "I'm not running. You're just slow."

She grabbed onto his arm and swung him around, "Chishiya, do you have a thing for her?" His face remained neutral as always, "No." He hung on the syllables, hiding the embarrassment in his voice. Kuina smiled and clapped her hands in excitement, "You totally do!" He rolled his eyes and walked away again, swatting her hand away. "You can't hide it from mee~" Kuina laughed as Chishiya disappeared past the stairs, looking back behind her to where Ayane still stood. "I have an idea..."

When Ayane woke the next day, she swung the covers off herself and stretched in front of her window, feeling relief at the sunset. She didn't get much time to herself that morning as her stomach growled, demanding breakfast. She turned for the door and stopped as a note had been slipped underneath it. She grabbed it curiously, unfolding it to read, "Meet me on the roof at dusk." There was no name with it, but odder things have happened here. She took the message with a grain of salt as she headed down for her meal.

The cafeteria was fairly empty this morning, with only a few members still grabbing their food. Her eyes immediately noticed Chishiya at the corner table, nibbling on his crackers, observing everyone as he usually did. Ayane swallowed the lump in her throat and walked quickly to grab some fruit. She could never be around Chishiya for very long before she let her crush show in an obvious manner. She started stuttering, her face went red, and she couldn't stop staring at her hands while speaking to him.

She hoped she could get a quick glance at him before he noticed, to no avail. Her eyes locked with his immediately, her heart skipping a beat. It took all her willpower to look down and walk out as fast as she could without drawing attention. She hurried back to her room, fruit in hand. Upon closing the door, she slid her back down it and sat with her knees to her chest. Her thoughts began to run wild, "His eyes are so handsome, the way he looks at me makes me feel so..." She shook her head, forcing her thoughts out. He looked at everyone like that, she surely wasn't anyone special.

Chishiya had lost his appetite after Ayane practically ran out of the cafeteria when she saw him. It made his heart feel heavy as he processed his thoughts, "Maybe... Maybe I do like her." Sitting on his bed staring out the window, he took a deep breath, his train of thought interrupted by a knock on his door, "Come in." Kuina walked through the door with a grin on her face that only meant one thing; she was up to something. He tilted his head to meet her eyes, "What did you do?"

She threw herself on his bed next to him, looking smug. "I did a thing... Ayane is gonna meet you on the rooftop at dusk!" She giggled to herself, quickly stopping as she saw Chishiya's face go dark. "Why would you do that?" She threw her hands up, "You like her! Shoot your shot!" He put his head in his hand, rubbing his temple. "Kuina... She is repulsed by me. Call it off." She gasped in disbelief, "She does not! For someone as smart as you, you're dumb!" He shot her a glare at her comment before taking a breath, "She literally ran out of the cafeteria when she saw me. She can't even stand to be in the same room as me, why would you think she likes me?"

Kuina laughed, "Like I said, for someone so smart, you sure are dumb." She pushed herself off the bed and headed for the door, "I'm not gonna call it off. Either you go, or she gets stood up. It's your choice." Closing the door behind her, she swallowed her doubt, hoping her friend was smart enough to meet Ayane.

Dusk approached fast that night. Ayane felt her palms sweating as she waited on the roof. The night began to creep up on the sky, the stars beginning to truly shine into the night. She sighed to herself, a part of her wanted to believe her feelings would be proven right tonight. Although she had no idea who the note could've been from, her heart wanted it to be Chishiya that was waiting for her. She would finally have the opportunity to tell him how she feels, without so many people around both of them. She doubted he had any feelings for her, but at least this way she wouldn't be embarrassed in front of the whole beach and could be rejected quietly, in peace.

She had rehearsed her confession over and over again in her head, yearning to finally tell Chishiya how she felt the first time she saw him, how she still feels every single time she sees him. Her thoughts were so loud in her mind that she didn't hear the rooftop door close. "Hey." She turned to be met with Chishiya, hands in his pockets as per usual. "Um, hey..." She smiled a bit, her nerves starting to take over her.

Chishiya took a few steps forward slowly, taking her in. He loved the way her hair fell down her shoulders, the way she tucked it behind her ears when she was nervous. He had been paying attention to all her cute mannerisms since the day she got here. The way she nibbled on crackers, the way her head shot back when she laughed, even the way she scolded Kuina whenever she had too much to drink. He had only realized it recently, but those weren't things a person normally looks at. You only look for those things in someone who you have deep feelings for.

Ayane looked down at her feet, "So, um... Chishiya... You, wanted to meet me?" Her fingers fiddled with themselves as she looked up at him, trying not to say something embarrassing. Chishiya stared at her for a moment, "Actually, Kuina told you to come here." She could feel her heart drop at his words. Her eyes started to burn, her throat going dry, "O-oh... Well um, I'll go find her then." She pursed her lips together as she began to hurry past Chishiya, calling herself a fool in her head, holding back her tears. After all that preparation, she still couldn't tell him how she felt.

It was only as she grabbed the handle that Chishiya called out to her, "Do I repulse you?" She turned in shock to look at him, his eyes searching hers, "What? N-no, Chishiya, you don't repulse me. Why would you think that?" He pondered for a moment, "You always run away from me whenever you see me." Ayane swallowed her breath, her heart thumping loudly, "Well, I, um... Listen, Chishiya... I..." She mustered all the courage she possibly could, calling it forth, "I... I really like you! I... I just get really nervous around you and, I... I can't think straight a-and..." She could feel her throat starting to close up on her, her words refusing to come out anymore.

Chishiya looked at her in disbelief, his mouth agape yet at a loss for words. "Ayane..." She couldn't look him in the eyes as hers started watering, holding her breath for his next words. "I feel the same." She looked up at him in shock, her tears spilling over. "Y-you do?" He walked towards her until they were mere inches apart. "I do. Ever since I first saw you, you made me feel... Different. Like maybe, all this wasn't as tedious as I thought."

He extended his hand out and cupped her face, wiping away a tear with his thumb, "Ayane... Can I kiss you?" Her eyes went wide at his request as his eyes gazed into hers. Without answering verbally, she pushed herself into him, closing her eyes and pressing her lips into his gently. She laid her hands on his chest as he gently wrapped his arm around her waist, keeping her close. Chishiya felt his heart pound against her chest, and she could feel hers reciprocate the rhythm. They broke apart for only a moment to look at each other under the night sky, illuminated by the moonlight. He stroked her cheek gently, admiring her eyes as she fixated on his. In his heart he knew, if all else fails, this one thing was worth surviving for.

END

[genienotinabottle]

burning pile // self para

TIMING: the fall of white crest. SUMMARY: the world doesn't end, but something does. CONTENT: animal cruelty (alluded to), domestic abuse (mentioned), terminal illness (mentioned)

When they were sixteen, Baz brought a stray cat into the house. It took their father weeks to notice its presence, took him weeks to realize that there was something small and feeble living underfoot, to the point that Baz had been so sure that he’d never figure it out at all. He’d let himself fall into a false sense of security, let himself believe his father would never know. And that had been wrong, of course, because their father always found out things like that. 

The surprise came when he didn’t mind it.

It would be good, he’d said, to have something to catch the rats. For all his faults, Baz’s father had been a health-conscious man, had been paranoid about sickness and disease. His own mother had fallen ill to something that had killed her slowly, he’d told Baz once, and the fear of such a thing sapping his strength had lived with him ever since. So the cat was allowed to stay, and even with their father’s permission, it had felt like Baz was getting away with something. It was exhilarating, it was exciting, it was joyous. 

Right up until the moment when it wasn’t. 

Right up until the moment when the cat had dropped a dead rat onto the bedsheets in Baz’s father’s room, until the moment that tiny corpse sealed everyone’s fate at once. Baz never found out what happened to the cat after that, never knew what punishment it had wrought for doing the very thing it had been allowed in the house to do, but they had their suspicions. It was through this that Baz learned you could be exactly what you were supposed to be and still be wrong, somehow. You could do what you were meant to do down to the letter and still do it wrong.

There was something almost funny about that, in a sad sort of way. The cat had done everything right, and it still wasn’t what Baz’s father had wanted. Baz had done everything expected of them, and they still weren’t what they were supposed to be. They were right and wrong at the same time, good and bad. And after a while, they’d figured, there was no point to it. Why try to do what you were meant to do when you were punished for it anyway? Why bother killing rats if your best case scenario was being tossed out in the streets the moment you killed one in the wrong spot? Why fight for the love of someone who wasn’t capable of giving it to you? 

People who knew their story often assumed Baz had given up on trying to be decent the moment there was a dead boy in their bedroom and their father’s rage was too big to get out from underneath. Even Baz sometimes cited this as the moment a switch flipped in their life, but it wasn’t true. It started with the cat. 

They gave up trying to be what other people wanted them to be after that. They stopped putting on a show, stopped wearing masks that didn’t fit quite right, stopped trying to force themself into other people’s clothes. They were who they were. For seven hundred odd years, in fact. And it served them well. It did. 

Until it didn’t.

Affection was a poisonous thing. It spread like tar throughout your veins, turned you black and burned you from the inside out. Baz knew, better than most, that nothing killed a person faster than love. But gods, nothing made them feel more alive, either. 

It was love, they knew, that made them who they were. It was love that drove them to kill their father in that fateful act of vengeance and grief, love that made them accept the offer of immortality, to live where Ailwin couldn’t. And it was love that found them stepping forward at that blasted town hall meeting, throwing their name in the ring. 

They’d lived for love. They might as well die for it, too.

Because they loved this world, they did. They loved this town, and all of its oddities. They loved the people they’d met here, even if ‘love’ looked different to a being who’d lived for centuries than it did to someone who only got eighty years if they were lucky. They’d lived a hell of a life here, within these borders. And they’d had a long run. 

The memories poured in as they thought of it, like a projection screen playing out with flickering faces of people they’d known here, both escaping town and already gone within the borders. Jonas and Blue, long gone now even if only months had passed since they’d seen him last. Marina, beautiful and lively and determined. Levi, bright and burning and still doubtlessly furious at them for this. Correy, all stoic and serious even when he no longer had to be. Crow, surly and short but fond underneath it. Ari, who’d do anything for the people she cared for. 

There were worse things to die for than this, weren’t there? There were worse ways to go. To live and die for love, to drown in the weight of it… Wasn’t that every poet’s dream? Wasn’t that what they were meant for?

The wind howled in their ear, and they closed their eyes as the ground shook beneath their feet. The world rumbled. The sky screamed. It was hot and it was cold and it was everything and it was nothing. Darkness rose up around them as the sun got farther and farther away, as if Hell was coming to meet them, to greet them at the door. 

The whole world was screaming, and they didn’t think it would feel like this. They’d always prided themself on their words, on their ability to craft cityscapes and lives out of a few curled letters, but there was no metaphor for this. 

It was abrupt, when it ended. All at once, not a slow fade, not like the way their father had described it for their grandmother, not like the light leaving Ailwin’s eyes or the way Jonas shriveled and shrunk beneath the sickness that took him in the end. It was quick. Baz couldn’t have asked for kinder. There one moment, gone the next. Wasn’t that what everyone wished for? Wasn’t that the only good way to go?

The ground stood still. The clouds dissipated. The world was silent. The world was there, still. And Baz wasn’t.

It was still okay.

[botslayer]

We are special. That is the one thing Mankind had to tell himself over and over again. "We are special, this is why can throw and the other things can't." "We are special, so our enemies will fall." "We are special. This is why we have a society as large and vast as we do, and the bears and gorillas and such do not."

And when we reached space, and for fifty years, found no one else, we felt we were too special. That we were the galaxy's, neigh the universe's only children. But before the weight could crush us, we found them. The Moriath. The Quilanok. The Krugala. Not all of them were friendly, I admit. But we had come to know them. We weren't alone. Kalu, kalay, we met our kin that day.

But we noticed something... Odd. Sure, a lot of people expected them to occasionally at least be humanoid. But... So many of them just... Were? Not only that but we had fancied our technology quite something. We built replicators straight out of Star Trek. We discovered FTL on our own. Our ships were big, meaty things... And all of these were theirs to some extent. Sure, the Moriath had more of an eye for greens, and their architecture was more akin to a twisted bottle than ours which resembled Space Shuttles with more beef... But they were almost the same besides. Big burning engines, powered by splitting atoms propelling them through the vast darkness.

We were no longer special. And when the Quilanok attacked us, something we had prepared for, make no mistake, we found we were on equal footing to these feathered mammalians. Or payload yields, our blaster fire, even our close quarters weapons were so similar, albeit they used hatchets and we used knives of a sort. A new weight had come and crushed us utterly. We were not only not special, a fate so simple all of us dealt with it, we were average. We were just like two dozen other sorts out in the endless black.

Many, between peace talks and warfare, resorted to alcohol. Others yet to alien intoxicants. And some to death by their own apathy. Something had to change. We had to become great. It was our destiny. Ours and ours alone.

We poured over a century of research and development into secret weapons, blasters with twice the twins and more stability. Ships that split their atoms for their engines faster, radiation infused knives, replicators that could make more food with less resources... Half of what we did was just keeping up with everyone else. Save for the weapons, which we used with utmost prejudice against the one species still on the galactic shit list.

The Quilanok wept as we sundered them. We reduced continental masses on some of their worlds to islands. Their soldiers dropped like flies as we tore into them with an unkempt and full savagery we unleashed upon ourselves all too often in days of antiquity.

In the end, it worked. And mankind became known as the brutish, psychopathic, demented saviours of the galaxy. We were the new enemy. But none dared strike us. We stood as the unchallenged masters. Five centuries removed from this event, the people of the galaxy still don't trust us. I went to a bar some nights ago, and on the way, a mother Torigath put herself between me and her child so abruptly, I had to swallow a vulgar utterance.

I record this, not for anything as good willed as a warning, not for anything as simple as curiosity, but because I find only lament, as even my drinking friends are merely other humans. We are still the enemy. And we will never not be.

Turns out that humans are painfully average compared to the rest of the galaxy. This fact is so embarasssing that humanity starts rapidly advancing technologically just to show those aliens who’s boss.

[stepwiseimmigrations3]

IRCC News- All You Need To Know

Eager to know about IRCC updates for international students. Then you are reading the right blog. As we all know, Canada is famous worldwide due to its policies and rules. Studying in Canada and PR in Canada is always a dream of every student. But due to the pandemic, lives have entirely changed, and the Canadian government made some new changes to the rules. They are planning to give entry to maximum settlers in 2025. Therefore, you need to learn about the IRCC new update. And these facts are very vital for every immigrant. There is always a need for change in rules due to different situations. Wishing to hear more about IRCC latest news. Don’t wait anymore. Make a call to Canada’s best experts at Stepwise Immigrations. We will provide you with every tiny detail regarding IRCC news for international students that you must know.

Why Canada Needs Immigrants and what is IRCC latest news?

Canada is always ready to welcome settlers, but this time the nation wishes to have a great level of immigration to keep its economy alive. Thus, it is the IRCC news update.

In the world, Canada has one of the oldest folk and also has the world’s lowest birth rate. Therefore, it creates fiscal and financial stress. The natural people growth in Canada is low, which results in low growth rates for the labour force and economy. Due to the country’s low economic growth, raising taxes to support social spending in various areas is often difficult. It includes education, health care, and other critical areas that provide locals with high living norms. Call our team now to get the latest IRCC news. Our team will ensure that you get the IRCC new update today.

Since the late 1980s, Canada has increased its immigration levels to increase its population, labour force, and economic growth. Most of Canada’s folk and labour force growth is attributed to immigration, as is a greater share of the country’s economic growth.

The number of baby boomers who will reach retirement age in Canada by 2030 is expected to reach 9 million. There will be fewer workers in Canada at a time when the nation’s social costs of health care will increase. Over the past 30 years, Canada has gradually increased its immigration targets to alleviate this challenge.

For instance, Canada has welcomed over two lakh immigrants per year since 1988. It has decided to boost its levels to over 4 lakh per year in the recent year. The immigration rate in Canada is now around 1.1%. Compared to the United States, Canada welcomes three times more immigrants per capita.

It is supposed that Canada will continue to gradually boost its immigration level shortly due to its demographic realities and immigration trends. For the country to remain fiscally healthy, immigration will remain an essential factor. Stepwise Immigrations offers our clients IRCC Twitter update.

Additionally, a strong idea can be made that immigration has become more critical since the Coronavirus pandemic. The COVID-19 outbreak temporarily weakened the Canadian economy and increased government social services spending. Furthermore, the birth rate in Canada in 2019 fell to its lowest level ever at 1.47 children per woman. Because Canada’s birth rate was already down, there is a chance that the pandemic will further drop due to economic fate. Thus, it will become even more reliant on immigration to grow its people. In decades to come, migration will donate even more to Canada’s labour force growth if the birth rate remains low. As a result of COVID-19, Canada needs to increase its tax base to support government spending. Want to get the latest IRCC news? Reach out to Stepwise Immigrations today. We are the best Canada immigration agents who have every detail of IRCC news for international students.

IRCC medical update

He added that this new measure would help provide faster processing and would benefit more than 1,80000 applicants in Canada.

The Canadian government has declared to waive off medical exams for 1,80000 PR and TR applicants already in the nation. This IRCC medical update will help a lot of people in Canada.

IRCC Twitter update says if an applicant meets specific criteria and is already in Canada, they are exempt from immigration medical examinations. This new state will offer fast processing and will help more than 1,80000 migrants in Canada, according to Sean Fraser, Minister of Immigration, Refugees, and Citizenship.

It facilitates the process of obtaining temporary or permanent residency for eligible foreign nationals faster.

The following are exempt:

From within Canada, an application for PR or TR or a PR visa

Medically cleared for immigration and has not posed a risk to public health or safety or has reported to public health powers for monitoring, as required.

Facing difficulties in finding IRCC visa updates, take the aid of our experts at Stepwise Immigrations.  This is because we are eager to help our clients get updates on IRCC international students. With this, they can make their plans and rest. We will help them with the visa file and IRCC news update.

Our Other Articles :

BC PNP For International Students

PR Services In Canada- All You Need To Know

Best Immigration Agency Canada

IRCC New Pathway Updates – What You Need To Know

PNP Draw BC- All You Need To Know

Canada Work Permit Without LMIA

Canada PR For Working Professionals

Canada Federal Skilled Worker visa

IRCC new updates for international students

Stepwise Immigrations are here to offer you the IRCC PPR update. We are ready to help our clients with IRCC new updates for international students.

CIC News reported that Canada will gain 753,000 study permit holders from 2022-2023, which means that it will be able to offer more opportunities to international students.

Students from many countries will also be able to fast-track study permits through Canada’s Student Direct Stream (SDS).

To manage the labour shortage in Canada, Canada will also boost international students to transition to permanent residency.

Data on backlogs will be published monthly by Canada’s immigration authority to assist international students.

Those who have applied for a study permit in Canada can temporarily work off-campus for over 20 hours per week.

Summary,

Seeking to find more facts about IRCC updates for international students. Take the aid of the best team at Stepwise Immigrations. We are the best provider of IRCC PPR update to our clients. Thus, it makes us the best Immigrations experts in Canada. Then don’t wait anymore. Schedule a meeting with our expert team to find out details about IRCC news today.

FAQs

Is IRCC still processing applications?       

Yes, applications are being processed but got delayed due to the pandemic.

What is new on IRCC? 

Canada is planning to have more settlers in the upcoming years.

Does 2022 have TR to PR?     

Yes, 2022 will have TR to PR, and Canada aims to have 40,000 immigrants next year.

How long does IRCC application take?   

IRCC will take around eight days to process your application

Stepwise Immigrations, IRCC updates for international students, the best Canada immigration agents, Canadian economy, Studying in Canada and PR

[blzzrdstryr]

Storge

Yandere!Childe x reader

CW: Yandere themes, swearing

Requested by anon, I am not going to post the ask, since it will spoil the fic

It’s snowing when you finally escape.

Snow and thin layers of ice like rustle under your bare feet as you run as fast as you can, uncaring of whatever injuries you’ll get in the process. Servants and guards scream and run after you too, eager to catch you before any of the news reaches Childe.

“Стой! Стой кому сказал!”, a lumping and balding middle aged man screams after you. You can’t understand the words yet recognize the desperation it was said with - this man can’t afford to fail, lest he loses his job. Too bad for him - you also can’t afford to fail, lest you lose your freedom and you are a better runner than him.

“Eat shit”, it escapes you, raw and hopeful and despairing at the same time - the freedom you yearned for months is here, you just need to push a little more, run a little faster. You don’t know to whom these words are addressed to - to the man behind you, Ajax you’re running away from or the world, that is so cold and unfair, constantly giving you a shorter end of the stick.

Fate proves itself a cruel mistress once again, as you trip on the ice, bones cracking upon the impact of your body against the ground.

“Вот тварь, побегать любит”, the man bends in half from the exhaustion and then comes closer to you, grabbing you from behind and yelling something to the couple of women catching up to you. You, of course, writhe and hiss in his hold, like some feral and disgruntled cat, scratching and biting their hands when the occasion rises. They mutter something unpleasant in Snezhnayan, yet don’t retaliate, afraid of what He will do once he learns of their slight.

You curse them and their entire bloodlines as they drag you back to the mansion.

He comes back from whatever bloody business he has the same day, when the Sun almost settles and dyes everything in purple-red hues. You look at this view from your room, seated in the comfy chair near the brightly lit fireplace and tightly bundled in the multiple layers of fur blankets. Your left leg is also covered - in bandages and herbal ointments, meant to soothe the pain.

You also got sick - maybe it’s because you bolted in nothing but your nightwear, or maybe because people who returned you back to your cell were dragging your unwilling body on the snow and at the end of your “journey” you were wetter than a recently used mop. Maids gave you some herbal tea for that too, and now you were nursing a warm cup, awaiting his arrival.

“I’ve heard that someone misbehaved again”, Childe enters the room, a manic and creepy smile plastered over his face. Seems that this “talk” will be as much of a test to your sanity as any other.

“Ajax”, you say in exasperation, more to yourself than to him - he rarely reacts to your sighs or glares, his overblown ego making him blind to your obvious discomfort.

“I’ve also heard that this someone got very very far. Almost naked. In the middle of the winter”, he continues, coming closer to you with each word: “I wonder who would be crazy enough to abandon this beautiful and majestic estate to return to their sad, miserable life”.

“At least I don’t have to see you in my sad, miserable life”, you quip and turn in your chair away from Ajax as much as you can. It’s hard to do with one injured leg.

“Oh, is it? Well, you don’t see anyone in your horrifically miserable life”, he quickly steps around, appearing in your vision again.

“Shut up”, you can sense what he’ll say next, already seeing red. Childe’s grin turns even wider. How does he always manage to do and say things to get under your skin?

“You have no friends to spend time with, you don’t even have any family. Whom will you return to? No one is waiting for you there”, and with this he leaves, shutting the door just in time to avoid the thrown cup of tea and you have to simmer in your own anger alone.

***

The boy appears on the next day, when Childe leaves for work. Ginger, pale and blue eyed, he doesn’t leave you even a shadow of doubt who his relative is. You plan on ignoring the boy just for this fact, yet the child proves himself just as stubborn as your captor.

He pesters the maids and other servants, who don’t rebuff him which proves your relation theory even further - who would be allowed to behave like that except you, Childe and his relative? When bothering staff proves itself fruitful, yet unsatisfying he turns his attention to you.

You sit on the sofa this time, your injured leg preventing you from escaping from that mini-Childe and the maid assigned to you pointedly ignores your pleading and threatening gazes. You have no choice, but endure.

***

Ajax’ little brother, Teucer as you learn turns out to be a way better person than you imagined him to be. It’s harsh to talk like that about a prepubescent child, but you can never be too sure or lax when it comes to Childe and his family.

He’s loud and stubborn in the way his older brother is, yet there’s no hidden malice or motive in his words, no mental game to test you with. As you already said it’s crazy to think about a little kid like this, like some manipulative and cunning bastard, yet you can’t. Living with Childe stripped you of it too - you can’t not just relax and trust everyone you meet, especially if they happen to have ginger hair and blue eyes.

You end up humoring Teucer as he tells you of his adventures with Tonya and Anton, and how he misses his big brother Ajax. A short, yet awkward pause ensues, as a boy casts his gaze down, sadness coming off of him in tangible waves and you do something unexpected.

You ruffle his hair and offer to play with him and he beams at that, his smile rivaling Sun with its brightness.

Servants bring a couple of board games - you can’t really move and participate in something more intensive, and the two of you spend several hours just playing.and enjoying yourselves. You get so engrossed by the game in fact that you miss the moment when someone else enters the room. You realize this once Teucer lifts his head and gasps, his eyes shining.

“Ajax! You are here!”, he squeals as he runs into Childe’s arms.

“Of course I am! Once I heard my dearest baby brother visited my house I dropped everything to come here”, Ajax effortlessly lifts the now laughing boy and spins him around, his eyes crinkling as he does so.

Teucer immediately shifts his attention from you to his brother, and while this is something very predictable, the hurt at this disregard is not. You never expected to get attached to a random kid just by spending a couple of hours with them, but here you are: watching your captor play with him and wishing that you could join too.

The boy leaves in the evening as Childe orders his men to take him back, yet before that Teucer runs up to you and hugs you too, thanking him for the time you spent with him and your heart flutters. Warmth the kind you never felt before washes over your soul, you feel complete.

You watch how he departs, your eyes trailing carriage until it turns into a tiny dot on the horizon and Childe watches you.

“If you behave I will invite Teucer more often”, he says on the next day. How can you decline such an offer?