#this legitimately took me like an hour to answer

[yandereunsolved]

Seer reader: "Today is gonna be totally normal."

Approximately thirty seconds later—

Yandere Aegon: "Which one of us is more likely to marry you?" Deep breath "Is it me or Aemond? Is it me or Aemond?"

—

Yandere Rhaenyra: "It is good to have you here. You will surely aid us in the war."

Seer reader: "H-How did I get all the way back here?"

Yandere Daemon smugly standing in the corner after he kicked a child and stole you back from Team Green.

—

Yandere Criston Cole: "I will protect you with every bone in my body."

Seer reader: "You can't protect me from the horrors."

Yandere TB & TG: "We're the horrors."

—

Yandere Aemond: "Mine."

Seer reader: "I am a bastard, my prince."

Yandere Aemond: "That just means you will have to marry me and have my children to be considered legitimate."

—

Yandere TB & TG: "Whose side are you on?"

Seer reader: "The side of my freedom." Eyes the map and looks at Essos.

—

Yandere Helaena: "You're very pretty."

Seer reader: "Thank you."

Yandere Helaena: "Did you know the copulation process is exceptionally long among ladybugs? It can last more than two hours. Is that how your visions work? Are they induced by your hormones? If my husband were to couple with you, do you think you would end up getting a vision in the middle of it?"

Seer reader: "I—uh."

Yandere Helaena: "If we were to entwine limbs do you think our process would be close to that of a ladybug? We were both given divine gifts. It would make sense if it took that long for us."

Seer reader: whispering "Daemon, Rhaenyra, Jacaerys, save me."

—

Viserys: Gets down on one knee

Seer reader: "Oh my gods, it’s finally happening."

Viserys: Dies.

Seer reader: "The poison kicked in."

—

Yandere Daemon: "Three words. Say them and I'm yours."

Seer reader: "Three words."

Yandere Daemon: "A win is a win. A win is a win."

—

Seer reader: Running around the castle panicked, blind, and with a bloody nose.

Yandere Daemon: "What did you see, my dear?"

Seer reader: "Nobody died. I promise."

Yandere Rhaenyra's mother senses kicking in: "WHAT KIND OF ANSWER IS THAT?!"

—

Yandere Alicent & Yandere Ser Criston worrying over Seer reader and the fact Yandere TB will try to kidnap them again.

Seer reader: "Don’t worry, I have a few knives up my sleeve."

Yandere Alicent: "I think you mean cards."

Seer reader, pulling knives out of their sleeves: "No, I do not."

Both yanderes silently questioning how you got those knives.

—

Random noble: "Do you have a spouse?"

Seer reader: "Emotionally, or legally?"

—

Yandere Helaena: "Treat spiders the way you want to be treated."

Seer reader: "Killed without hesitation."

Yandere Helaena: "No!"

—

Seer reader: "What time is it?"

Yandere Aegon: "I don’t know. Scream and we’ll find out."

Seer reader: Screams.

Yandere Criston COLE: "WHO THE FUCK IS HURTING SEER READER AT TWO IN THE MORNING!?"

Yandere Aegon: "It’s 2 am."

—

Seer reader: Looks at draft. "That is way too long."

Author: "I'm making it longer."

[the-laughing-lunatic]

All 9 mercs w/ a reader who got them flowers! (PLATONIC OR ROMANTIC)

(I recently got to 20 followers on this blog! :D I wanted to do a little something to celebrate that, so I grinded and wrote headcanons for all nine of the mercs. It, uh, took a while so I hope you enjoy!)

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─── 

☆Scout - Daisies☆

Legitimately starts tearing up

Tries to blame it on the flowers

“I ain’t cryin’ I- I’m just allergic to flowers.”

“Oh, sorry, I could just return them then—”

“What? You’d hafta take ‘em out of my dead hands, I’m keepin’ em.”

Isn’t a huge flower guy but the fact you went out of your way to get them for him makes him feel all warm inside

Reminds him of when his mom would pick flowers to give to him after his Little League games

☆Soldier - Poppies☆

Would aggressively compliment you

“THESE ARE DAMN BEAUTIFUL FLOWERS MAGGOT!! I FEEL IMMENSELY LOVED AND APPRECIATED!!!”

Seriously though, he does

Since he was never allowed in the military he always felt jealous of the soldiers who got special flowers

But he wasn’t now, because you respected him

And if you did, that was enough

☆Pyro - Sunflowers☆

ABSOLUTELY LOVES THEM

Well, you can’t hear what they’re saying but the flappy hands and excited noises give you a decent idea

Will just spend hours holding them in their hands and looking at the flowers like they’re the most beautiful thing in the world

Draws sunflowers in all their drawings now

If they accidentally burned them they would get so sad and give you flowers back as a form of apology

Make flower crowns with them. Do it. 

☆Demoman - Bluebells☆

Like most of the mercs, he’s never gotten flowers before 

And he has no clue how to take care of them

“Thank ye, but, would ye consider showin’ me how to take care of them?”

Help this man out

Please

He would probably put them just on a table with no vase or water without you

Y’all would put the flowers in an empty bottle of scrumpy <3

☆Heavy - Violas☆

“Little merc has present for Heavy?” 

Surprised, but not so much as Sniper

Honestly the most chill about it out of all the mercs

He has sisters so he knows how to take care of flowers but he’s never been the one to receive them

Would press the flowers once the start to wilt and make bookmarks so he can keep them forever (sap)

And if he’s more protective of you during matches, who's to say the reason why?

☆Engineer - Bluebonnets☆

He sticks to the practical side of things, so when you give him a bouquet of flowers he’s utterly perplexed

He’s flattered of course, and thanks you greatly for the gift because he’s a Texas boy raised with manners

But he’s not used to pretty things and…doesn’t quite know what to do with them

He puts them in a vase with water but he finds himself stopping his work to look at them

They didn’t solve a problem, they didn’t hold a purpose yet people–including him now–seemed to love them

Eventually gives up trying to find a reason for it and just accepts it as they’re just pretty

Even though solving questions like “what is beauty” was never his forte, he’d somehow found an answer for it

And it was…well, you.

(He’d also 100% make you a flower out of scrap metal for you bc he’s a gentleman)

☆Medic - Cornflowers/Drosera Spatulata Sundew☆

There’s two flowers that he’d like

Cornflowers are one of his favorites, specifically the white ones (they remind him of Archimedes)

Not just because they are national flowers of Germany, but he also appreciates their medicinal properties

But if you somehow got your hands on a Drosera Spatulata Sundew he’d be pocketing you for months afterwards

Is absolutely fascinated with carnivorous plants and you get him carnivorous flowers???

The most romantic (or just super cool if platonic) thing in the world to him

Isn’t a botanist but he’ll be in the medbay all the time now just observing it and its reactions

He’s not sleeping for a while

He’d try to create a serum for whatever flowers you got him so they’d stay as beautiful as they are forever :)

☆Sniper - Wildflowers☆

No one has ever gotten him flowers before so when you show up at his camper van with hand picked flowers wrapped in twine he’s surprised, to say the least

Finds it interesting how he walked past those same flowers everyday and never cared

But when you gave them to him they felt…special.

Awkwardly mumbles a ‘thanks mate’ to you

Keeps them in an (UNUSED I REPEAT UNUSED) jar in his van

Smiles everytime he sees them

☆Spy - Roses☆

We all know this man is an old-fashioned lover boy so ofc he loves roses

But he’s never on the receiving end of them

So none are ever good enough for his high standards

“Eugh, where did you buy these, the gas station?”

Similar to Scout that if you say you could return them he’d absolutely refuse

Secretly thinks it’s really sweet 

Doesn’t act any differently towards you afterwards when he’s with you

But you find multiple bouquets of roses in your room and a note that says “if you ever consider buying me flowers again, buy roses from these boutiques instead of the trash you had before.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─── 

(Putting in all the tags is another reason why I don't normally do all nine of them holy shit)

[rubra-wav]

Hiya! I absolutely loved your posts about the HH main cast dealing with a sick reader and them being sick. You did a phenomenal job with them!

As for a request, what about Vox, hell’s resident bipedal tv, hc’s of him realizing he’s legitimately falling for reader?

Vox realises he has feelings for you

A/N : Thank you so much seriously!! 💛

Cw: SFW, gn!reader, suggestive comment at one point, angst-ish/ Vox coping

- It'll be a good long time before he realises he's fallen for you, and when he finally does, he's fully in it. There's no turning back and there's no backpedalling. He's absolutely whipped.

- It hits him one day like a train that he's actually in love with you all at once.

- He hung out with you the afternoon, and that night he's laying on his back with his phone gripped in his hand against his chest.

- It's been exactly 3 and a half hours since you were out together on a movie date at the VIP premiere. (as in in the ridiculously lavish movie room he had within Vee tower)

- He had been counting.

- You hadn't texted him back yet, and he was tapping his claw impatiently waiting for you to message him back with the world's biggest pout on his face.

- He'd already sent 4 texts, and none of them had been answered yet. He had to stop himself from sending more because he didn't want to seem too desperate. (Even though he was)

- He told himself he'd be mad that you had made him wait whenever you got back to him. He'd blow up over it.

- However, the second his phone buzzes and he sees the notification from you saying you had fun and were sorry you hadn't gotten back immediately it's like his dopamine receptors have been kicked into absolute overdrive.

- He's giddy. Warmth is flooding his chest, and he starts breathing heavier as the world's dorkiest smile spreads across his face.

- It isn't then that he realises exactly, but it's when you leave to go to sleep after texting him for a couple of hours with a flirtatious comment that has his head spinning and sparking.

- You were talking about how you'd washed your sheets that day and were making your bed. He acted like he was bored, and your next words absolutely took him out.

- "Fine. Next time, come over, and I'll spread you out on my bed then."

- When he calms down, it's messed up again as he's questioning himself.

- Why did I glitch out to them saying something that resembles a shitty pick-up line? Why did I count every minute that passed the second you went home? Why do I feel like I'm on drugs the second you pay me the slightest bit of attention.

- OH FUCK -

- He goes through all stages of grief as he realises he's in love with you in a single second and ends up causing a blackout in his bedroom in the process.

- When he roboots, he holds his head in his hands and chugs delulu juice instantly feels absolutely terrified.

- It's humiliating for him to have such delicate feelings, let alone for someone who surely doesn't feel the same way. His experiences with real, genuine romantic love for other people have hardly ended well.

- He likely tries to distance himself from you because he's scared of the fact he is so attached to you.

- It's been ages and ages of being attached to you but he's only fully realised - or at least fully acknowledged the extent of that attachment.

- His distance from you is shortly lived however as he craves you and your presence so badly he's disgusted at himself.

- He would not be the one to confess 9 times out of 10.

- Even if it's glaringly obvious you are also into him, he copes so fucking hard he's actually delusional with the excuses he makes about it.

- He basically friendzones HIMSELF.

- You could kiss him on the cheek or hold his hands in yours or cup his face lovingly and he would be there glitching while thinking about how you must just be like this with everyone else-

- He's charismatic, charming, and can often read everyone around him like an open book - analyse their behaviours, true intentions, expressions, thoughts under it all, etc.

- But he's so terribly stupid with love.

- You need to confess to him first most likely and he'll probably still think you're bullshitting him.

- Literally finds every reason of why you aren't in love with him and tries to twist everything that way.

- Even when he's in love, he wants it to be reciprocated obviously. The thought of it not being requited as he expects is embarrassing at best.

- But, he's genuinely probably even more terrified of what that means if you do love him back.

- It's easier if you don't love him back for him because he's scared of the way you might further bring out whatever imperfections and vulnerability he's shown you already after actually being in a relationship with you.

- He craves being in a relationship with you and the security you could bring him to expose those parts of himself he desperately conceals with masks resting on masks, but also its deeply unnerving to him simultaneously.

Infuriating watching the process of this man actually realising he's in love for real, honestly 😭

[practically-an-x-man]

reblogging this again because I worked hard on these and I REALLY want to answer some asks about them!!

ok y'know what. I'm tired of all the same questions in ask games so I'm taking matters into my own hands

OC/Writing Art Asks

For the character:

Pencil: does this character have any "sketchy" habits? Have they ever broken the law? Do they regret it?

Pen: what's one minor moment your character regrets? A small mistake, but something they "can't erase"?

Paintbrush: How often does your character "brush over" conflict instead of facing it head on? Is there something specific they don't like to face, or do they avoid conflict as a whole?

Marker: what's one thing your character would never tattoo on their body, even if they were paid a million dollars for it?

Crayon: what was your OC like when they were four years old? Were they loud? Shy? Were they the resident "weird kid" or did they get along with others their age?

Colored Pencil: if given the choice, would this character splurge on an expensive (but potentially worthwhile) branded product, or buy a low-budget alternative even if the quality suffers?

Copics: what is this character's most expensive habit or hobby? Do they ever feel guilty about the money they spend on it?

Graphite: what's something decently common that your character does in a unique or different way? (like how graphite is present in all pencils, but not everyone uses pure graphite)

Charcoal: share any unique physical features about this character that are not scars or tattoos.

Tortillon: does your OC "blend in" with the people around them? Physically? Metaphorically?

Pastels: Give me three colors that best represent your OC. Now give me three colors that your OC likes best. Is there an overlap?

Chalk: what was one activity this character enjoyed with their sibling(s) as a kid? If they don't have siblings, what they did with their neighborhood friends

Eraser: what's one way this character has changed over time? Either over the course of their story, or over the course of designing them as an author.

Palette: list four of your character's primary skills, then share at least two ways these skills might blend or overlap

For the work:

Starry Night: are there any scenes in this work that take place at nighttime? Is this significant, or just the passing of time?

Mona Lisa: oh, it's the fanfic writer's favorite word. Do a find-and-replace on the word "smirk" and share any lines that pop up.

The Scream: are there any moments in this work that you think could scare a reader? Are there any moments where the characters themselves are profoundly scared?

Persistence of Memory: are there any moments in this work where a character's memory plays a strong role? Either an individual memory, or simply a character's ability to recall the past.

Girl With a Pearl Earring: are there any moments in this work where a character's clothing or accessories play a major role?

The Kiss: share your favorite kiss scene from this work. If there's no kiss scene, share your favorite moment of intimacy (romantic or platonic)

American Gothic: what's one relationship between characters in this work that you think people wouldn't expect? (i.e., how the people in American Gothic are not married, they're the painter's sister and dentist)

Guernica: look through a few of your imagery/descriptions in this work. Are they generally straightforward, or are they more "abstract"?

Wheatfield with Crows: are there any scenes in this work that involve birds? Do the birds play a definitive role, or are they simply part of the setting?

Woman with a Parasol: are there any moments in this fic that feel "blurry" to you? Is this a stylistic choice, or would you go back and clarify the descriptions if you were given the chance?

A Sunday Afternoon...: pick one "little moment" from this fic. How representative is it of the fic's tone and story as a whole?

Creation of Adam: choose one character that is not present at the beginning of this work. How did you introduce them into the story?

The Swing: are there any moments in this fic where the characters get to slow down and have fun? If not, why is that?

The Last Supper: does this fic incorporate any symbolism based on religion, theology, or mythology? If so, give an example.

For the author:

Paper: Who do you feel is your most two-dimensional or underdeveloped OC? Why is this? (including those that are still in development/haven't been written about yet)

Canvas: Do you ever "prep" your fics with outlines or warmups before you start writing, or do you just dive right in?

Graffiti: Have you ever had to research something that felt illicit or illegal for a fic? What was it?

Photography: What's one moment from any of your fics that you feel is preserved in your memory?

Clay: Do you usually take time to "sculpt" your OCs before you write them, or develop them as you write?

Film: Which one of your fics do you think would work best if turned into a movie? Who would direct it?

Adhesive: when you write, do you usually "stick" to one character or story for a while, or bounce around various characters and ideas?

Cricut: are there any characters you've had to "cut" from a story? Are there any moments/chapters/stories you've had to "cut" entirely?

Felting: how often do you include soft moments when you write? Do these moments play a role in the main plot, or do you include them as an escape from the rest of the story?

Weaving: are your works typically similar to one another? Pick two works, and share one similarity and one difference between them.

Finger Painting: share a small snippet from your earliest work (or the earliest that you can get back to). How would you rewrite it today? Either share the rewrite itself or just describe how you'd do it.

Creative!: free space! share something you've been dying to share about your writing! Could be an OC that never gets the limelight, a moment you were proud of, or anything else you'd like to share

[zepskies]

Code Red

Pairing: Boaz Priestly x Female Reader

Summary: When you call him for help, Priestly realizes that he finally has the relationship of his dreams.

AN: So I didn’t think I’d ever write for this character, but it was prompted by a lovely anon and encouraged by my friend @thatonewriter15! I hope you enjoy. ❤️ 

Song Inspo: “Perfect” by Ed Sheeran. “I’ve found a love…”

Word Count: 1,500 Tags/Warnings: Period talk, suggestiveness, mega fluff

He was in the zone.

Four six-inch double buffalo chicken clubs with banana peppers on whole wheat bread (gross, but he wasn’t the one eating ‘em), two spicy Italians, and a tuna on rye.

Priestly wrapped them up with practiced precision and slid them down the line to Piper, Mission Impossible-style. She smiled at his antics and took them and brought them over to Tish at the register.

Priestly had another turkey and provolone on his docket, hold the mayo, when his cell buzzed in his pocket. Today he actually did have pockets. As in, he was wearing joggers, boots, and a graphic tee that said: NO TEQUILA, NO ENTRY.

He swiveled his phone in his hand like a drummer with a drumstick. He smiled when he saw your name flashing across the screen, and he answered it.

“Hey, Beautiful. What’s up?” he asked.

“Boaz, I need you,” you said. To his ears, your voice was sultry, and a bit strained.

He perked up with raised eyebrows.

“What’s holding up the turkey and cheese?” Piper asked.

Boaz held up a finger to the blonde and tucked the phone between his ear and shoulder. His hands busied themselves with the next sandwich order, but he was all too attentive to your every word.

“Oh yeah?” he replied to you. His smile deepened. “Well, that’s convenient. Because I’m craving some of you, baby.”

You gave a breathy chuckle. “Normally I’d take you up on that, but no. I need you. As in, I really need you to do something for me.”

Priestly arched a brow. His brain was already filling up with ideas of how he could best help you. He mentally took an inventory of the “tools” in your nightstand drawer, and which ones he could best use to his advantage when he—

“Uhh, well, I got about one more hour in my shift,” he said, lowering his voice, even as it deepened a notch. “But if Jen covers me, I can be outta here in half the time.”

“Oh my God, good,” you gasped. “I’m in so much fucking pain, you have no idea.” 

Priestly blinked, and any thoughts of kinky fun times came to a screeching halt. Concern took over when he realized that the strain in your voice wasn’t from the sexy kind of need.

“What’s wrong?” he asked quickly.

“I’m out of Midol, my uterus is rioting like it’s a Vietnam War protest, and…oh yeah, I need more tampons too,” you said. “But I legitimately cannot move from this couch.”

Priestly couldn’t help but smile in amusement.

“Ech, I hear ya. Are we in a Code Green, Code Yellow, or Code Red situation?”

Jen glanced over at him from where she was mopping the floor, and she gave him a questioning look.

What’s wrong? she mouthed.

“Code Red, definitely,” you answered with a sigh.

Priestly grimaced in sympathy. He mouthed back to Jen, Code Red.

She nodded in female understanding, and raised a hand that said, Say no more.

“Okay, yeah,” Priestly replied to you. “Don’t worry, I got you.”

You released a sigh of relief. “And if you want to throw in a Snickers, I wouldn’t hate it.”

He chuckled at that one.

“You got it,” he said. “I’ll be home in T minus an hour, give or take.”

You groaned. “Can’t you just steal a DeLorean or something?”

“You know, I could, but that would mean I’d be going back further into the past before you even needed to call me, and I’d still probably be making sandwiches since I’ve been working here since damn near 2000 B.C. But you know what, they should really call that movie Back to the Present, since they don’t actually go to the future until—”

“Okay,” you had to laugh, even though it was edged with discomfort. “I’ll see you later.”

At the supermarket, after his shift at Beach City Grill, Priestly had most of the supplies he needed for a successful mission. All he was missing was his old enemy on Aisle 2.

Once again, he faced a wall of tampons. All bright colored boxes and numbers and sizes…

Okay, not Code Green, so not the slender ones that might as well be match sticks. Not Yellow, so no to Regular…ah! Here we are. Super Plus.

AKA: Code Red. Complete with leak guard, no latex. He grabbed the blue box and threw it into his basket of essentials, including no less than three assorted chocolate bars and a pint of Ben & Jerrys. He knew his girl, and you liked your Half-Baked ice cream with chocolate chip cookie dough and brownie pieces.  

He brought over his haul to the checkout line. Sure enough, Gerry, one of the locals, was finally old enough to buy a case of beer by himself. He glanced at the blue box Priestly was taking out onto the conveyor belt and smirked.

“No slender regulars this time?” Gerry remarked.

Priestly’s smile was tight. “No, Gerald. Slenders are for pussies.”

“Literally,” the blonde beanpole snorted. “What, your girlfriend got a heavy flow this month?”

Priestly rolled his eyes, and his mouth pressed in a line. The word flow still kind of grated on him like nails on a chalkboard, but what irked him more was this guy imagining any part of your intimate parts.

“All right, my girl’s flow is none of your business,” he said. “Once you hit puberty and grow your first pubes, you’ll understand.”

Gerry floundered while Priestly continued on to make his purchases. Even the cashier was smiling, trying not to laugh as he silently gave Priestly his props for a burn well made. Priestly shot the guy a nod and a smile before he left with his spoils.

“Honey, I’m hoooome,” Priestly sing-songed.

He stepped through the door with his keys still jangling in his hand. He was trying to balance the big bag of groceries while closing the door to the apartment he shared with you.

Your head perked up from the living room couch, and your hand slowly curled up, beckoning him over. Priestly obliged you. He peered over the side of the couch and smiled at the way you were all curled up under a throw blanket, already in your pajamas, while FRIENDS reruns played on the TV.

“Finally,” you said with a tired smile. But not the kind of finally that just meant you were impatient for the goods he carried. The kind of finally that also meant you were happy to see him.

He laid a comforting hand on your head, leaned down, and pressed a kiss above your brow. You held him there by the collar of his shirt, prompting him to kiss you for real. Your hand moved up his tattooed neck and your nails gave the back of his head a little scratch, careful not to disrupt the blue mohawk.

He reluctantly pulled away from your lips, just enough to try and gauge how you were feeling.

“How’re you holdin’ up?” he asked.

“Like a beach umbrella in a hurricane,” you replied wryly. “You got the stuff?”

Priestly held the grocery bag tucked under his arm like it was a drug deal.

“Oh, I got the stuff, if you got the money,” he said.

You nodded, and your small smile turned mischievous. “I got your money, Big Man.”

With your hand delicately hooked behind his neck and the other gliding up his arm, he didn’t realize he was falling into a trap.

You tugged his arm hard enough to try and get him to fall over the back of the couch.

“Hey!” he yelped. Yet he also laughed while you tried your best to pull him overboard.

He had to toss the bag of groceries to the floor next to you, but he managed to get over and onto the couch without crushing you. He probably smelled like old sandwich and mayonnaise, but you didn’t seem to care. 

You just helped him settle in behind you, with your back to his chest. This was the only way you’d find comfort for your lower back. It had been aching since you woke up this morning.

You grabbed his closest hand and guided it under your overlarge sleep shirt, then under the waistband of your panties. You laid his warm hand flat against your cramping lower belly.

Priestly pressed a kiss behind your ear and tucked his arm underneath your head. He felt the rise and fall of your sigh as you leaned back against him, and his smile softened.

“You’re gonna fall asleep without digging into your treasure trove,” he teased. “I even got your favorite ice cream.”

You glanced at him over your shoulder in interest.

“Half-Baked?” you asked.

“Yep, for extra brownie points. Eh? See what I did there?”

Your body shook with a quiet laugh. You reached your hand back to touch his bearded cheek this time. Your fingers toyed with his many earrings.

“Did you know that you’re my favorite human?” you said. “Like, ever?”

He smiled against your neck. “Could’a sworn I was your third favorite, behind Ben and Jerry.”

“Nope, just you,” you said, snuggling back further into his warmth. “Thank you, baby.”

Priestly realized then that he’d found it.

He’d really, honest to God found the life he didn’t think he’d get, with a woman who didn’t want him to change; who just wanted him to be here.

Though he smirked when you reached for the bag and dug out the pint of Ben & Jerry’s.

“That’s what I thought,” he said.

You giggled. “Shut up.”

AN: Priestly was such a fun character lol. I rewatched 10 Inch Hero this past week and this was the first thing I thought to write! If you liked this, let me know! (And if you want more Priestly.) 😘

Read the Prequel!

If you liked Code Red, read the start of their story:

▶️ The Miracle Man

Priestly Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Tag List:

(Lovelies from my "Everything" tag list. If you want to be tagged on Priestly stuff specifically, check out the Tag List link in my bio.)

@kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @ades106 @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @brianochka @branj19 @hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog

@globetrotter28 @charmed-asylum @waywardxwords @deanwinchestersgirl87 @this-is-me19 @rachiem4-blog @sweettimelady @leigh70 @clinicallydepresso @emily-winchester @xiphoidbones @skoveu @nyotamalfoy @kmc1989

[weneeya]

Hi! It's me again! I have this idea, use it as you will.

How about, Suguru being mad at reader for some reason, even a well deserved one, you pick it. He's so mad he won't even look at us. Then we try to convince him to forgive us in THE MOST Suguru fashion: sweet words, sweet touches, just enough to make anyone melt. And then it WORKS.

I call it, "Using my own spells against me, Potter?"

using my own tricks w/ geto m.list | rules

note. hii!! thank u for ur request, once again! I'm so happy to see that you love my work <3 feel free to request :)

Suguru had never been this mad at you before, and you had to admit that you deserved it. He had been waiting for you for hours, calling you again and again, and you didn’t answer him. You simply showed up after two hours like nothing happened because you didn’t see any of his calls or messages. He got really worried, and now he was angry. In fact, he wasn’t even looking at you while you two were installed on the couch of your apartment. 

You tried everything, or at least almost everything, to ease his anger. But nothing worked. You had one last possibility, and you were obviously going to try it. You moved closer to him and he didn't react for a bit. You put your head against his shoulder, as your hand slowly moved to rest on his thigh. You started to draw small circles on it with your fingers, looking right in his direction. 

He didn’t seem to react, but his heart started to race in his chest. He wasn’t stupid, he knew what you were trying to do ; it was only legitimate, he was doing this all the time. But being tricked by your own trick is a bit frustrating. 

“Suguru, look at me,” your voice could finally be heard, soft and gentle, close to his ear. “Don’t stay mad at me, please” your fingers moved slowly to his knee, before going back up to his thigh. “I miss you, I swear I’m sorry.” 

He gulped with difficulty, closing his eyes for a second. He had to resist, he couldn’t fall just for this. But seeing you acting like this -like him-, it was way too attractive. If he didn’t love you this much already, he would have given everything to you. His gaze finally met yours, and you took it as the first step to victory. You could see in his eyes that he was losing it. 

You snuggled a bit closer to him, and your fingers reached his jaw to caress it very slowly. You had a soft smile on your lips, not leaving his gaze. He was about to give up, you had him around your finger. “Please,” you said one more time and a sigh could be heard from him. Finally, you knew it was the time. 

You let your lips meet his for a second, before you looked back at his eyes. He was looking at you, heart pounding and eyes shining. He was at your mercy, and he couldn’t fight against it anymore. He pulled you closer, hiding his face in the crook of your neck before you chuckled slightly. 

“Taken aback by your own tricks, uh?” You said and he answered by biting softly the skin of your neck. It took it personally, but it simply made you laugh again. “Don’t do this too often,” he finally answered, and you waited for him to develop his thoughts. 

“You’re too much to handle when you’re like this,” he added as he moved from his hiding place, looking straight into your eyes. He slowly rested his hand on your cheek, stroking it slightly before he put his forehead against yours, eyes closed. 

Maybe he got tricked by his own methods, but it was worth it. He couldn’t stay mad at you, and seeing you act like this simply made his heart sink a bit more than before.

it was so fun to write omg flustered suguru is making my heart race faster than ever lmao

[humanitys-strongest-bamf]

OK I WAS TOO UPSET TO WRITE THIS BUT NOW I AM ONLY MILDLY UPSET SO I WROTE IT

Your Worth | Canonverse Oneshot

✧ word count ➼ 1.3k ✧ notes ➼ canon!verse, hurt/comfort, negative self-talk, levi being comforting in his levi way

The door to your office flew open. It was already well into the evening. Nearly everyone should have returned to the barracks. You were hoping to have some alone time to process and catch up with paperwork. The previous few hours haven't been easy and you were coping by drowning yourself in tedious work.

Your body tensed as you heard Levi's distinct footsteps step into your office.

"What the hell is going on?" he asked sternly.

You put your pen down as you slowly looked up at your visibly agitated boyfriend. You had an idea as to what got him so upset, although you hoped it wasn't the case.

"What are you talking about?" you asked quietly.

He was holding a few sheets of paper in his hand. He placed one on your desk in front of you. Your heart sank upon reading it.

It was your request to the Commander to be removed from Levi's squad. You had submitted it early this morning, putting in substantial effort to get it to the Commander's office without Levi catching on.

You took the page from him roughly, frowning.

"Tch," you muttered in irritation. "He showed you?"

"It's my fucking squad, of course he showed me," Levi scolded.

You didn't respond. You knew he had a point. It was Levi's squad. He was the Captain. Of course he was going to find out sooner or later.

"Why are you requesting to be removed?" he asked with a gentler tone. "Did something happen?"

It wasn't like you to just suddenly do something like this. He had noticed that you had been acting differently or have been more reserved for the past few days. He had been expecting something to eventually happen, but nothing as extreme as this.

"_____," Levi nudged you once you didn't respond.

After a while, your lips finally parted to speak.

"I'm..." you mumbled quietly, "I'm holding you back."

"Ah?" Levi muttered, genuinely not expecting those words to come out of your mouth.

"You heard me. I'm holding you back," you reemphasized. "Everyone you had chosen for your squad is skilled with the gear or has a high amount of Titan kills and I'm just...me."

He took the paper back from you and set it to the side, sitting on your desk as he looked down at you as you sat in your office chair.

"...the fuck do you mean 'just' you?" he asked, although he already somewhat knew the answer. He knew that you were frequently plagued with feelings and thoughts of inadequacy.

You knew that he knew.

"What do you want me to say?" you exclaimed, frustrated beyond belief. "No matter what I do, there's someone that's better at it. There's someone with more kills, faster times, more respect, or whatever! No matter how much I try, no matter how much effort I put in, I will never be the person that someone goes to for help. There isn't the One Thing™ that I'm good at where someone would be like 'hey, _____ should be the one you ask for help from'. No, I'm always in the fucking background and being dead weight, so that is why I requested to be discharged from your squad. The last thing you need is to have me drag you down."

Levi was silent the entire time you rambled, never taking his eyes off you as he listened.

"You done?" he finally said once you stopped speaking.

You scowled at him again.

"Get out."

Levi promptly got up, but instead of walking out the door, he walked around your desk to where you were seated at.

"Get out!" you repeated, raising your voice.

"Not until you tell me that everything you just said was bullshit," he said sternly.

You clenched your jaw, frustrated. You wanted to tell him what he wanted to hear, but you couldn't lie to him. You did legitimately believe in everything you just said, in every flaw that you had just listed.

You groaned in frustration as you buried your face into your hands while gripping at your hair.

These feelings of inadequacy were not new. Feelings of never being good enough and your fear of failure was something that was just drilled into you as a child. You were always being compared to others and you eventually developed a worldview that made you feel like you had to "earn" your right to exist by being good at things. Not only that, but you had to "specialize" in it, which made it so that anytime someone else came along that was just as good at if not better than you at something, you felt like your entire life—including your right to live it���spiraled out of control.

Levi gently placed his hand on your shoulder.

"Hey," he said quietly.

He shook you a little bit once you didn't answer or move.

"_____, look at me."

You slowly leaned back from your desk to look at him.

Before your eyes could even focus properly on him, he gently flicked at your forehead.

"Quit pitying yourself," he said as he scowled.

You rubbed at your forehead, which was now slightly red as you pouted at him.

The pout was a good sign for him. It meant you were listening to what he was trying to say, despite how strong those intrusive thoughts were being.

He knelt down, so that he was eye-level with you, gazing at you with gentler eyes.

"What started this?" he asked quietly.

You looked away, but he immediately grabbed your chin and turned you towards him so that he was making eye contact with you.

You tried to resist against his grip, feeling incredibly embarrassed that he was still able to read you like an open book. You had prided yourself as being able to mask well to not be a burden to those around you, but that was never the case around Levi. You hated and loved it at the same time.

You sighed in defeat.

"I just heard some of the prospective recruits talking and mentioning who in the Scouts they looked up to, and I guess it was foolish of me to even think that my name would be mentioned, but a dumb part of me hoped that I at least contributed something, something to be remembered for if I died," you began rambling, taking a deep breath to keep your voice from breaking as your frustration and self-hate threatened to boil over. "But there isn't, is there? As far as everyone else is concerned, I'm either your partner or just another soldier. I'm not anyone special-"

"Cut that shit out," Levi scolded, not giving you a chance to finish your rambling this time.

You stopped talking, but looked at him with hurt in your eyes.

"I know how important external validation is to you, but the cadets are talking out of their ass and you know it," he said as he looked intensely in your eyes. "You know they don't know shit about what any of us actually do—and it certainly doesn't warrant you requesting to be discharged from the squad."

He sighed and let go of your chin, instead moving to gently place his palm on the side of your face, allowing you to take comfort in his touch. It at least helped ground you when you felt like your emotions were taking over your entire world.

"You're worth more than you know," he said gently before pulling you in and gently placing his lips against yours, lingering for a few seconds until he felt you relax into him.

He placed his other hand on your thigh and gently squeezed as he slowly began to deepen the kiss before finally pulling away and resting his forehead on yours.

"And if I have to remind you of that every single day of your life, I will."

ok this was cathartic, ty to anyone who took the time to read :3 #: @chaotic-on-main @romantichomicide95 @lovolee3 @svftackerman @levisbrat25 @leviismybby @idkks4m @moonmalice @elnyrae @sleepyfairyxo @averysmolbear @cathybarn @tclbts @belovedackerman @bejewelledd @fuyulvr @sad-darksoul @levis-squishy-cheeks @roseofdarknessblog @anviacker @aam1na @luvjiro @noctemys @sixpennydame @dumbfound-princess @raenacreates @deepzombieyouth join my taglist!

[i520u]

invisible string ʚĭɞೃ⟡

HIII i’m so sorry this took me so long i just didn’t wanna be unemployed after i’m done with my series so i decided to keep this in the drafts for a while 😞 i hope you’ll like this!

PAIRING sung hanbin x gn!reader

GENRE fluff, sfw

MASTERLIST

hanbin is a responsible bf, so you can definitely let loose when you’re around him!

he will always makes you feel safe

when you go out on dates with him, he would always silently take your handbag off of your shoulder and carry them himself 😞

his nicknames for you are usually the common ones, baby, my baby, angel, and i think he’d most commonly use 내 사랑 (nae sarang/my love) because it’s so endearing to give your s/o a nickname in your own mother tongue am i right

but he prefers calling you by your name, bc he thinks your name is already pretty

constantly complimenting you

you get your work done and he’s like “good job baby” and then he’d kiss your cheek

you finish mopping the floors and he’s like “you worked so hard today my love, thank you”

the type of boyfriend that will give you legitimate answers to your “would you still love me if i was a worm?” questions

one time you asked him what he would do if you turned into a snail one day

and he told you he’d have to build you nice house where you would be comfortable living in

drives your around ALL the time

he would freak out if you offered him gas money because he really doesn’t mind spending his time, energy, and money with you :(

if you gave him a $10 cash he would applepay you $15

i think hanbin is a great cook, so eating out is very rare for you both because he’s always cooking up a meal for the both of you

if you don’t like a certain taste (sour, salty, sweet, etc) he’d make sure to alter the recipe a little so you’d both be able to enjoy the meal together

hanbin would be cutting up some vegetables, and then you’d come up to him and ask for a kiss, and he would gladly give you a quick kiss before resuming with the meal prep

conflicts with him rarely ever happens

he’s so good at communicating, and he’s just so gentle there’s really nothing to be mad about with him

he trusts you, and he feels secure in the relationship so he never really asks you about your whereabouts. you’re free to hangout with anyone!

all of your friends loves hanbin. he treats you so well, and he’s so polite and can mix around with them, so he’s practically in your friend group too

when you DO get into fights with hanbin, the fight never lasts longer than 2 days. he either apologises first if he realised that he’s in the wrong, or he’ll talk to you and explain why he felt like he was wronged

plus, even when the two of you are fighting, he’d still cook you a good dinner, and you’d still help him clean up all the things he used to make the meal 😭

also on nights where you both had heated arguments, if the situation was okay, he would still wrap his arms around you while you sleep

hanbin never go all out for anniversaries though

rather than fancy dinner date or a big gesture to show his love, it’s more domestic and meaningful

hanbin prefers celebrating your anniversaries together with things like giving you a photobook of all the moments that you’ve spent together

of course he’d buy you a gift too, but his main idea of anniversaries are more domestic

one time he rearranged your house and made a candlelight dinner all by himself for your anniversary, candles, silk tablecloth, fancy steak, he did that all by himself

whenever you get sick, he’d feel bad leaving you alone while he goes to work but duty calls!!!

he would make you text him and update him every 3 hours so that he knows you’re eating well and taking your medicines on time

when HE’S sick he tells you not to worry about him and then he would get flustered when he finds out that you cooked him some healthy soupy foods for him to eat

he thinks you’re so cute when you’re worried over him getting a stupid little cold

when he gets better he would give you so many kisses and cooing at how cute you were when you were taking care of him

honestly he��s always kissing you somewhere, or you’re always kissing him somewhere, it doesn’t matter. he loves kisses

when you say something funny he would laugh and then bring your hand to his lips for no reason?? when you ask him why he’s just like “you’re so funny i just had to kiss you”

when you’re showing him the new top you just bought and then he would just pull you in to kiss the top of your head bc why not

when you kiss him first his ears will go red

he would even be like “why’d you do that”

when you say you just wanted to kiss him he’d giggle and would call you adorable

“my partner is so adorable today, i wonder what’s got into them?”

[apomaro-mellow]

King and Prince 25

Part 24

Steve read and re-read the letter over and over. He’d been awake for a couple of hours and had yet to leave his room. Sometimes he paced about the floor, letter in hand, eyes glued to the page. Other times he fell against the bed, Eddie’s words pressed to his chest as if that could calm the pounding that threatened to overwhelm him. Steve rubbed his cheeks, starting to get sore from his smile. 

Eddie seemed genuine. The letter was full of his intent to court him officially. The idea warmed his entire body. It was nice to be kissed and told sweet things in fleeting moments leading to a coupling. But to have this - someone saying with no uncertainty that they had their sights set on you. And the implication of the end of the road leading to an altar. Royalty didn’t play games of love like this.

If all Eddie wanted was his physical affection, he wouldn’t be going to all this trouble. For a moment, Steve wondered if he would have allowed that. If Eddie had made a few simple, yet flirtatious remarks, a few suggestive gestures before leading him to a private alcove…

Steve let out a breath and tugged at his collar. The idea was alluring and Steve couldn’t say for sure that it wouldn’t happen. But he was glad he had this, this letter in his hand. It told him that Eddie wanted more and saw him as more.

He searched for writing materials. It was only proper to reply with a letter of his own. Usually one had more time to answer an invitation to courtship but there was no reason to wait in this instance. 

---------------------

Eddie watched on as El lifted a mound of clay. It floated in the air right before her, just a shapeless lump. 

“Good, now imagine your hands shaping it. Any form that you want, just picture your own fingers doing it”, Eddie said.

Something poked the clay from one spot, and then another. El’s brow furrowed as she tried to mold it. Eddie observed, expression neutral. Suddenly, El dropped the clay onto the table with a splat and frowned at him.

“I can’t do it.”

“What were you trying to make?”, he asked.

“...Something?”

“Well, there you go. You need to have a solid image in your mind.”

“Am I interrupting?”, Steve asked, poking his head into the art room.

“No”, Eddie smiled. “We were just about to take a break. El, go and rest your brain.”

She scurried off, already looking lighter than air as she walked out, leaving them alone. Eddie took in Steve. He was wearing yellow today, with accents of orange. His hands were behind his back as he stepped into the art room. Eddie swallowed a little when he realized Steve must be here to give his reply. Suddenly his hands got sweaty and he put them behind his own back to hide the fact.

“Did you-”, he paused to clear his throat but ended up coughing, bending over a little in effort and then tried to brush it off by leaning against the table. “Did you receive my letter?”

“I did”, Steve said, a coy smile on his face. “You do know that for a real, true, legitimate courtship you are required to approach my father for permission?”

Eddie couldn’t help the sneer that came upon his face. “The day I ask that man for permission for anything is the day the world breaks in two.” His arms had crossed but he uncrossed them and stopped leaning on the table, standing up straight as he looked Steve in the eye. “I care only for what you say.”

“...What if I were to refuse you?”, Steve asked, curious.

Eddie looked torn for a moment. “Then I…I would…if my feelings are not reciprocated, I would respect your decision.”

“Even if that decision was to marry Jason Carver?” When Steve asked that, he didn’t miss the way Eddie’s fist clenched before hiding it behind his back.

“Even then.”

“Even if I wished to be given a horse, some coin, and to be let loose on my way to forge my own path?”

Eddie’s eyebrow raised. “As a commoner?”

“As a commoner”, Steve nodded.

“Then you’d have a horse. And any amount of money that you would find respectable.”

“You would let me go that easily?”

“Who said it would be easy?”, Eddie breathed out. “I would let you go but I would think of you everyday after. You may leave this place but you have taken up permanent residence in my mind.”

“You’d still think of me?” Steve found that hard to believe. As a ruler, Eddie surely had more important things to keep him occupied. He might think of Steve for a time, but not for long.

“You would be in the face of every flower I see. I’d hear you in Dustin’s laughter, see you in the way Robin smirks. You’d be everywhere, even if you’re nowhere.”

Steve revealed his hand and held out a sealed envelope. Eddie took it, hands trembling only a little. He looked into Steve’s eyes, his own full of hope and asking for the allowance to open it right away. Steve nodded.

To the King who has opened up his home to me, 

Please do not misunderstand the shortness of the letter as a lackadaisical approach to romance. And I beg you to excuse the theft of your own words. I am not adept when putting a pen to paper. But I too, feel as if I could speak on you for pages and pages. That is to say, I humbly accept your offer. And I look forward to seeing what sort of romance you believe I am suited for.

Sincerely and with great hope,

Prince Steven

Steve waited with bated breath for Eddie to finish. It took longer than he had expected but that was simply because Eddie kept going over different parts of the letter in disbelief. Finally, he looked away from Steve’s writing.

“You realize what this means?”

That Steve was putting his heart in his hands, that he might face obstacles as an enemy courting the attentions of a king, that one day he may need to answer to his parents for his decisions, that-

“You and I will be needing a chaperone from now on”, Eddie said, interrupting Steve’s thoughts. “It’s no longer proper for us to be on our own.”

Steve blinked, realizing he was right and that they were alone right now. Most indecent for two people who were starting a romantic exchange, not yet married. Nothing to witness except for the easels, paints, and other art materials in the room. Steve grinned, pushing some hair behind his ear.

“And just what are you expecting we’d get up to all alone?”

“I-”

A trio of footsteps saved Eddie from answering as he was sure to stutter through a reply. El returned, Will and Max in tow. Will, ever the sensitive one, felt that they had interrupted something and gave them both quick glances. Max, also sensitive but less considerate about it, just brushed past them, going right to her own station where a mound of clay was waiting.

“Are you ready to start back up again?”, El asked, looking between Eddie and Steve.

“Uhhhh…”

“He’s ready for you”, Steve answered in his stead. “He and I will be seeing each other later.”

Steve walked out, brain working overtime to take in everything that had just happened. Eddie’s body language and the way his voice sounded. He had looked, nervous, for lack of a better word. It was the perfect word for it but still Steve was hesitant to use it towards himself. It surprised Steve at first. Why should Eddie feel nervous? But then when he understood it, he found it endearing. When a king set his sights on someone, it was considered a done deal. Who would deny a king? But Eddie was treating the situation like there was a chance Steve might say ‘no’. Like he really cared and would put forth the effort for him.

Better than floating on clouds, or being swept away by a current, for the first time in a long while, Steve felt like he had two feet on solid ground.

Part 26

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[baronessblixen]

In case your brain decides to cooperate. :DDD

*****

It had not been Scully's day.

There had been no new messages on her answering machine that morning, turning last night's worry into this morning's dread. Scutwork duty dragged. Lunch was as unappealing as the thought of going home only to sleep, wake up, and endure two more days until the weekend.

And still Mulder didn't call.

She'd known. Diana had startled them Monday, passing too close to their desks on her purposed walk to Kersh's office, X-Files folder in hand. Scully'd locked eyes with Mulder and watched him ping pong from her face to the clock for the next forty-five minutes until Diana emerged, victorious, from their superior's office.

It had been-- was-- a legitimate file. Too legitimate, too perfect. Perfectly selected, she suspected; as were Diana's perfectly legitimate reasons why Scully couldn't join the case. Fox, I just wrangled Kersh for almost an hour. He's mad as it is that I managed to grab one of you. If I'd bargained for two, neither of you would be able to go and the Kernwyckles would be robbed of proper justice. Would that be fair? Perfectly rational. Scully hadn't trusted her for a second but couldn't reasonably deny that the case needed her partner's expertise.

To his credit, Mulder had waited until Diana left before discreetly promising to keep her abreast of the details. She'd deflected; but he'd kept his word, checking in at the bullpen's lunchtime, checking in again right before she settled into bed. I'll be in and out, Scully, and back before you know it.

And he hadn't called since.

She knew how he was, of course; his stubborn ways and his single-mindedness when it came to solving a case were some of his most endearing traits. At least they were when she was around and knew what was happening.

It had been more than 12 hours since she’d last heard from him. That in itself wasn’t unusual; last night’s whispered promises that came with a hint of skepticism towards Diana’s motives, however, made Scully’s alarm bells go off.

Something, she figured, was wrong.

Asking Kersh for details about the case Diana had dangled in front of Mulder was fruitless. Was there anyone else Agent Fowley might have confided it? For the first time that day, Scully felt a sense of direction.

She couldn’t find Agent Spender anywhere and when she asked about him, she was told he had called in sick. That wasn’t like the young Agent at all. Scully’s stomach knotted more tightly. Her gut was screaming at her.

“Agent Scully?” Frohike’s voice was caught between a cough and disbelief when he picked up her call. “Did anything happen?”

“I was hoping you could tell me.” She quickly filled him in and listened as Byers and Langly joined the conversation. There was furious typing in the background and grumbling. She distinctly heard one of them mutter the word fuck, which clued her in that something was not right.

“Don’t tell Mulder,” Frohike said, “but we put trackers in his shoes after the Bermuda Triangle disaster.”

“You did what?” She shook her head; there was no time to be outraged. Not when Mulder’s life was possibly on the line.

“Not all of them,” Langly chimed in.

“He’s not moving,” Byers said in a somber voice. “According to the data he hasn’t moved for hours.”

“What does that mean?” Scully heard her voice wobble.

“It could mean any number of things,” Byers said, his voice gentle. “It doesn’t have to mean anything.”

“He was supposed to call me.” She sounded like a jilted wife but she couldn’t care for that either. Right from the moment Diana had shown up with the case, she had known something wasn’t right. It had been in the way she’d snaked around Mulder, luring him into her trap.

“Where is he?” Scully asked. The silence on the other end of the line was deafening. “I need to know where she took him.”

“She?”

“Diana Fowley.”

“What does she have to do with this?” Byers asked.

“She convinced Kersh to let Mulder help her out on a case. They left yesterday. He called last night and he-” Scully closed her eyes against threatening tears. She had known it. Last night, when Mulder called, and he’d joked, and he’d made promises, and her own voice hadn’t been as steady as it should have been, she had kept quiet. What could she have done? Ask him to abandon the case, ditch Diana and come back home? She’d had no right. She had no right to ask his friends to find out about his whereabouts either. But that wasn't stopping her.

“He promised to call me with more details. But he hasn’t called.”

“We’ll send you the coordinates,” Frohike said. “He’s in Raleigh, North Carolina. Do you need us to-”

“I need you on stand-by,” she said, her heart hammering in her chest. She wrote down the coordinates Byers gave her and stared at them. She folded the note and put it in her pocket. No one here at the Hoover building bat an eye when she left early.

She had to go save her partner.

[lixzey]

Can't Help Falling in Love.

Info: This is my first timothée x oc fic.

Angelisse Emmanuelle Evans is a girl who seems to have everything—a booming career with a promotion on the way, a family that adores her, and a long-time boyfriend who just proposed marriage. Everything was perfect until she discovered that she's actually already married—with a legitimate marriage certificate. The husband turns out to be Timothée Chalamet, Hollywood's Golden Boy hearthrob. Angelisse seeks Timothée out to convince him to help her get an annulment.

Under the neon lights,

I think we might get married in Vegas.

February 13th, 2022

In the vibrant and pulsating lights of the night, Angelisse Evans stood at their table while her friends danced the night away. Tonight was her best friend's bachelorette party.

“Come on, Angel, loosen up!” The bride-to-be, Kate, pushed a shot of vodka in front of her.

Angelisse rolled her eyes at her friend. She had never been the life of the party, to say the least. She was the type to hang back and watch—maybe dance a bit, but never really let loose.

“And get a terrible hangover the next day? No thanks.” she said, pushing the shot glass away.

Kate wasn't taking no for an answer. She grabbed Angelisse's hand, led her to the dance floor, and urged her to dance. Angelisse hesitated, but then something took over, and she started to move to the beat. She was surprised to find herself enjoying it.

The beat of the music was like electricity, vibrating through her body. The air was charged with the energy of the crowd of people dancing and mingling. The music was like a drug, and she couldn't get enough of it. Angelisse lost herself in the moment, feeling the energy flow through her body as she danced the night away.

As the night wore on, Angelisse found herself increasingly in the element. She and her friends had spent hours dancing and drinking. Angelisse let out a laugh and threw her head back, her long, dark hair cascading down her back. She knew she looked good, and she made sure to show it off, her hands tracing down her body and her hips swaying to the beat.

"You're glowing, Angel,” Kate said, sidling up next to her best friend. “Having a good time?” She cocked an eyebrow, but there was a playful spark in her eyes.

Angelisse laughed, feeling a rush of warmth inside. “I am,” she replied, raising her glass to her lips. “This night is just too good to miss.” She winked at Kate, her head feeling a little fuzzy from the alcohol. For a moment, it was as if she felt the whole world was hers.

“You know, you're a lot of fun when you loosen up,” Kate teased, nudging her playfully. “Maybe you just need someone to bring out the best in you.”

Angelisse stumbled into the bathroom, feeling dizzy and lightheaded. She went to a stall, trying to regain her balance as she went. She clumsily knocked into a man who was peeing in a urinal, and she stumbled, her face heating up and her eyes darting between the man and the stalls.

The man, with messy curly hair and green eyes, turned to Angelisse as she stumbled past him. He eyed her up and down, taking in her drunken state and disheveled appearance. “This is for men only,” he slurred out, gesturing to the urinal he was standing next to. “You're not supposed to be here.”

Angelisse looked at him, her eyes widening as they settled on his unbuttoned pants. She was drunk, but she couldn't help but take note of his boldness.

“The line in the female bathrooms—it's too long,” she slurred. “I really need to pee.”

The brunette stumbled into the bathroom, locking the door behind her. “Thank God.” she moaned out, the sounds of the toilet flushing in the background.

“Ouch, fuck, my feet,” she complained as soon as she stumbled out, stomping her heels on the tiled floor. “These heels are killing me,” she muttered as she tried to take off her heels.

“Miss, relax, okay? Let me do it.” The man with messy curls offered to help her take off her heels. “Miss, steady, steady, alright?” He knelt down and slowly removed her shoes. Angelisse moaned at the feeling, “Fuck, right there.” Angelisse moaned loudly, “Oh god, yes!”

After several minutes of painful struggling, Angelisse's heels were finally off and her feet were free. She let out a loud groan of relief.

“Oh, that's better,” she said, wiggling her toes and flexing her ankles. She looked down at the man who had helped her, and her breath caught in her throat. He was stunning, with soft brown messy curls, a jawline sharp enough to cut a finger, and piercing green eyes. And he had helped her with her heels! Angelisse felt her cheeks burn, her eyes darting down towards her feet, then back up to his face. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure.” the man smirked, watching her blush.

Angelisse felt a rush of adrenaline as she realized that this man was flirting with her.

“I'm glad that I could help.” he continued, his eyes glimmering in the low light.

Angelisse felt herself melt in his gaze. She opened her mouth to reply, but before she could say anything, he spoke.

“What's your name, miss?”

Angelisse felt the world stop. This man, this beautiful, perfect man, was asking her name! She felt like she was in a dream, and she didn't want to wake up.

“I'm Angelisse,” she said, her eyes shining and her heart fluttering. “And you are?”

“I'm Timothée.” He flashed a smile at her.

“Timothée,” Angelisse repeated, letting his name roll off her tongue. “It's nice to meet you.”

She felt her cheeks heat up, the alcohol making her more confident and brazen than usual. She twirled a strand of her long brown hair between her fingers, her hazel eyes glimmering as she looked up at him.

“So, Timothée,” she purred, a playful smile on her face. “What brings you here tonight?”

Timothée could feel his heart beating faster in his chest as Angelisse looked at him with those sultry, hazel eyes. He couldn't believe how lucky he was to meet such a beautiful woman like her, and he was determined to make the most of it.

“I'm here for the same reason as everyone else,” Timothée replied smoothly, his eyes crinkling in a charming smile. “To have a good time.” He couldn't help but add, “And maybe to meet someone special, like you?”

Angelisse giggled. “It's my best friend's bachelorette party tonight.”

“A bachelorette party, huh?” Timothée replied, his gaze traveling down Angelisse's body, taking every inch of her. “Sounds like a lot of fun.” He smirked, his voice husky. “I take it you're one of the bridesmaids?”

Angelisse giggled again, her hands running over her body in a playful and flirty manner. “I'm the maid of honor,” she replied coyly. “And I'm having the time of my life.”

Timothée couldn't take his eyes off of her, she seemed too good to be true. She was a goddess, and her playful and confident demeanor was like a breath of fresh air and an absolute turn-on.

Timothée couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so attracted to someone, and he knew he had to make a move. He took a step closer to Angelisse, his gaze never leaving hers.

“You're absolutely stunning, you know that?” he said, his voice rough with desire. “I'm one lucky guy.”

Angelisse felt her heart flutter. She had never felt like this with anyone in her life.

Timothée closed the distance and gently placed his hand on her waist. He could feel the heat radiating off of her body, and he knew that she was just as attracted to him as he was to her.

“Would you like to go somewhere more private, Angelisse?” he whispered, his voice husky. “I'd love to get to know you better.”

Angelisse felt shivers go down her spine at his words. She nodded, her eyes never leaving his, and followed him out of the bathroom and into the crowds. Timothée led Angelisse through the crowd, his hand still on her waist protectively. They reached a quiet corner of the club, and Timothée paused, looking at Angelisse.

“Is this private enough for you?” he asked, his eyes locking into hers.

Angelisse nodded, her cheeks pink from the alcohol and the excitement. “Perfect.” she replied, smiling at him like a lovesick teenage girl.

“So, what's your story? What do you do in life? Besides being impossibly handsome, I mean.” she asked as she sipped on her drink.

“I do stuff. What about you? Besides being incredibly irresistible, I mean.” he asked with a smile.

Angelisse giggled, her eyes shining with flirtation. “I'm a financial consultant.” She exaggerated, her words coming out slurred because of the alcohol.

“I've never seen a girl as beautiful as you are.” Timothée smiled as he stared at Angelisse.

“Take a picture, it'll last longer.”

“Don't mind if I do.” Timothée chuckled, pulling out a camera from his jacket. He fumbled with it for a moment before pressing the button and capturing a photo of her.

“You're a goddess, baby girl.” Timothée chuckled, his hand on Angelisse's leg.

“Let's get out of here,” Timothée whispered in her ear. “I know a place where we can have some real fun.”

Angelisse stumbled after him, a look of excitement on her face. Despite their drunken state, she felt like she was on top of the world, with the most gorgeous man in the room at her side.

“Lead the way.” she giggled.

“Oh, baby, I think I'm in love with you,” Timothée continued, his hand in hers. “Marry me?” Timothée asked, stumbling forward.

“Think you can handle me?” she purred, her hand brushing against Timothée's cheek flirtatiously.

Timothée smirked at her, his eyes twinkling. He loved a challenge, and Angelisse was definitely that. “I can handle anything you can dish out,” he replied, his voice full of confidence. “But the question is, can you handle me?”

Angelisse returned his smirk, her eyes sparkling mischievously. “I can handle anything, babe,” she replied. “And I'll bet you can't handle me at all.”

“Well, I know this little chapel on the boulevard we can go to.” Timothée smirked. “No one will know.”

“Let's do it,” she replied, her eyes shining in the night light. “Just for tonight, just for the fun of it.”

Angelisse had never done anything like this before, but she was ready for anything.

Timothée's heart skipped a beat. This woman was intoxicating. She was a fire that couldn't be tamed, but he loved every second of it.

“Let's do it!” Timothée smiled like the Cheshire cat, grabbing her hand and pulling her along.

They found the chapel, and Timothée led her inside. They giggled as they stumbled through the church, giggling and kissing. They knew they shouldn't be there, but they didn't care. They were living in the moment, completely and utterly reckless.

12:30 AM, February 14, 2022

“Do you take-” 

”I do.” Timothée smiled like the Cheshire cat, his hands in hers.

“Do you take-"

“I totally do!” Angelisse giggled.

“Wow, you two are in a rush to get married, huh?” The officiant chuckled, “And by the power vested in me by the state of Nevada, I pronounce you man and wife. You may now kiss the bride.”

Timothée leaned in, his lips meeting Angelisse's in a passionate kiss. He held her close, his hands roaming over her body as he poured all of his desire and need into the kiss.

Angelisse melted in his arms, her hands tracing over his body and tangling in his hair. She had never felt so passionate or so desired, and she wanted this moment to last forever.

[circyexistforcontent]

IMPOSTER AU! BUT WITH OBLIVIOUS GOD READER PT. 1

✿ trigger warnings: cultish behavior, yandere's, mentions of weaponry, religious themes, god reader being an idiot because they don't know someone is impersonating them.

✿ pronouns: They/them

✿ notes: prologue is here. the reader is actually the god of teyvat, and also thank you for supporting the last part. I hope this mini-series will satisfy your expectations :]

"Y-your grace! What happened?!" Venti asks worriedly. He hurried to your side to help you sit up from your position. He caught wind (ehe) of everything happening in Monstadt, rumors about an imposter wandering freely in the city. He knew it wasn't true, the wind told him so. He rushed to where you were before anyone else can.

You were found in Windwail highland near one of the shrines. Exhausted and disheveled. But you seem to be in good condition, you only looked exhausted. He wanted to cry out in relief, but then he felt your aura getting more vicious as seconds pass by. "Barbatos..." You slowly look up at him, and when your eyes met he could feel every emotion you were feeling.

Relief, distraught, frustration, exhaustion...and what stood out from the four was the last emotion.

fury.

"WHAT LAWS DID YOU ENFORCE IN YOUR NATION BARBATOS!?" it took only a millisecond for you to launch yourself in front of the Anemo archon and strangle him. "Your grace- please! I can't breathe-" While strangling him you shook him back and forth as he struggles to free himself from your iron grip.

"I GAVE YOU LIFE I CAN TAKE IT FROM YOU!"

"So that's all there is to it." Venti finishes. It took a while for you to stop strangling him and listen to what he had to say (he's never been more relieved) and he told you everything you needed to know. So apparently Venti wasn't the one who made the law. It wasn't even a legitimate law, the people decided to make the choice themselves to follow it. The "law" states that no one should impersonate the divine creator.

Basically saying whoever was born with your face is to be killed, maybe even tortured if they put off a struggle, or publicly executed if your followers feel extra quirky that day.

"I see..." You look at Venti apologetically. "Forgive me for acting out impetuously Barbatos." Venti just waved off your apology.

"You don't need to apologize for anything your grace, if anything I deserved it. I should've been there earlier to help you." He can feel the shame creep up on his back. Your actions before seemed reasonable, he was an archon, the archon of wind, he can swiftly take you away from the commotion before anyone can comprehend that you missing.

"But if I may, what happened when I was away?" Venti asks you. You just exhaled tiredly, recalling everything that has happened to you this morning. It all started at seven in the morning, SEVEN, and only in the span of a few hours did the people of Monstadt chase you out of the city.

"Well, since your curious I may as well tell you..."

You have experienced at least 7 attempted murders in the past 5 hours you entered Monstadt. With people either throwing rocks at your head, the knights trying to slash you, the bar owner trying to poison you, and a witch trying to electrocute you. You may be wondering, how are you not injured? How did you survive all those murder attempts?

The answer is very simple, dear reader. Remember in the prologue where you simply transferred a piece of your consciousness to Teyvat? That's it. That's your answer. Your form right now is simply a piece of your consciousness that has been solidified enough to be seen. But of course, if you want to touch someone you can.

Attacking you or touching you will be like trying to punch the air. Because trying to put a piece of your real form or going to Teyvat as a whole would be equivalent to pushing the sun to fit earth. So this is what you can do for now.

I mean, you could just use a host or make a human body for you to possess. But you wanted to go there yourself, and possessing a human body would cause the body to mutate. At the very least the usual red blood running through the body's veins would turn to melted gold.

But back to the main point, there was an instance of you getting chased by the guards. You weaved through the gathering crowd like liquid, turning at every corner you see. At one point you did meet Jean since one of them reported the commotion happening.

You thought, with Jean being responsible and even reasonable, you thought telling her that your god wouldn't go wrong. And that she will take your side.

No. She did not take your side and immediately tried to apprehend you. She chased you around Monstadt, along with Amber who has come back to assist Jean on the hunt for your head. At this point it was getting ridiculous for how long they could chase you.

"Please! Let's communicate!" You cry out to the knights. "There is nothing to talk about, impostor!" A flaming arrow shoots through you again. You were getting tired at this point and decided to just teleport out of the area.

But it seems fate wanted to fuck you over because you ended up teleporting at the edge of a cliff making you fall 60 feet above the ground.

"And then you found me here." You finished your story. Venti for the entire time was disappointed, he knew his people were a little more than obsessed with your godly image but he didn't think they would act so violent against anyone who looks significantly similar to you.

But then again, people before would make human or blood sacrifices to gods. He had a good portion of people being sacrificed to him before and has seen people do the same for your name. He's still disappointed though, haven't they become more humane in giving sacrifices?

"I apologize on their behalf your grace, I thought they would know better." You pat his shoulder a few times. "Don't worry about it, I was never hurt in the process."

"So, what do we do now?" You reckon for a moment about what your next move is, if Monstadt reacted so violently to your appearance what would the other cities be like? Why did they react so violently in the first place.

"Venti, do you know the reason why they keep calling me impostor?" Venti freezes before face palming.

"Venti?" You ask again. "Just, give me a minute your grace I- *sigh*"

He forgot to mention the faker sitting on your throne the entire time.

"I guess I can finally tell you something I've been itching to tell." Venti looks at you straight in the eyes.

"An Impostor has taken your throne, your grace."

...

"What?"

[five-rivers]

Way to Learn

Clockwork kept an ear out as Daniel’s core hummed, chittered, and purred, the tone rising and falling.  When appropriate, he answered it with his own hums and even a few chirps.

After all, to learn a language you needed someone to speak it to you, to speak it with you.  There were certain shortcuts possible with the languages generally known as ‘Ghost Speak’ when compared to living languages, but conversational partners were still a necessity.  

As was, in the case of Daniel and other young ghosts, a period of child-like babble.  Encouraging it helped them learn faster.

However, Daniel didn’t understand Ghost Speak very well, so Clockwork said his next words in English.  

“Daniel.”

“Yeah?” said Daniel, looking up from his math homework.  “What is it?”

“We have an errand to run,” said Clockwork.  

Daniel’s eyebrows flew up.  “You can leave?  I mean, um.  Sorry.  That was rude.”

“I understand your surprise, but rest assured that the Observants do not control me that much.”

“What kind of errand is it?” asked Daniel, putting aside his book and hurrying to Clockwork’s side.  “Bills?  Groceries?  Mail?”

“Closer to groceries than bills,” said Clockwork, “and closer still to mail.  I have some things I need to pick up in person, and the journey might give you some additional insight into ghost culture.”

“Okay,” said Daniel, as they flew out.  “That sounds cool. What kind of insights?”

“You’ll see.”

.

As they flew, Daniel took it upon himself to ask questions about everything that passed by.  Some of those questions, Clockwork knew, were legitimate curiosity.  Others were thinly veiled attempts to get Clockwork to give away something about what was happening in the future, however near it may be.  

However, long before Daniel could wear through Clockwork’s patience - a quality strengthened over many interactions with the Observants - their destination came into sight.  A small island, covered in mist.

“There we are,” said Clockwork.  “Now, you should be aware of two things about this island.”

“Yes?” asked Daniel, eagerly.  

“One is that time runs differently there.  One week within is one hour without, so we may spend more time there than you usually would.”

“Cool,” said Daniel, “is that why you’re coming here?”

“It is one of the reasons.  The other thing you should know is that human languages are not spoken there.”

Daniel, who had been learning about how the Ghost Zone worked, frowned.  “Are not, as in no one speaks them, or as in no one can speak them, even if they learned.”

“The latter,” said Clockwork.

“Oh,” said Daniel, looking at the island with much less enthusiasm.  “Okay.”

“Ghost languages aren’t too terribly difficult.  I’m sure you’ll be able to talk to everyone there before we leave.”

“Sure as in you looked, or just sure?”

“I’m sure,” Clockwork said, without further elaboration.  “Immersion is the best way to learn a language.”

“Do you even have an errand here?” asked Danny.  “Or is this your way of making me learn ghost languages?”

Clockwork smiled.

[graciegoeskrazy]

I loveeee the dad matty universe, how about his reaction to girly and her bf ACTUALLY… doing something they shouldn’t sex🙈

then because she goes

matty healy + teen!daughter!reader

warnings: alludes to making out, no actual smut or mentions of actual sex, fluff ending, short n sweet

a/n: some dad matty for ur day. ty anon i’m sorry this was sent in november 😀

(look at how fucking cute istg)

Matty wasn't an idiot. The unknown car parked outside, the smell of a cheap cologne from a boy trying to impress a girl, and the giggles coming from upstairs all lead him to the fact that you were doing something you weren't supposed to do. You had a boy over. He had faith in you. He trusted that you would be responsible and not do anything stupid. He basically hoped you learned from his mistakes.

He kept his composure as he walked up the stairs, purposely making loud footsteps as he walked in hopes that when he barged through the door he wouldn’t find anything he wasn’t supposed to find. When he reached he top, the giggles continued, along with a short sound he wished he would never hear.

He knocked. “Baby?”

He heard rustling and a quiet “Shit.” come from the other side before you answered.

“Yeah?”

“Can I come in?”

“No! Uh- I mean…one sec!”

You looked at your friend and pointed the your closet door while your other hand remained on your mouth, signaling him to be quiet. To his dismay, he got into the walk-in closet and you smiled as you shut it.

You opened the door and were met with him leaning against the door frame. His tall frame towered over you as he smiled a fake grin. “Whatcha doing?” He said, almost sing-song-y.

“Nothing.” You quickly replied. You were slightly out of breath from all the running around and trying to hide your new friend.

“Mhm.” He said, nodding. “You’ve been lying to me a lot lately.”

Before you could respond his face got stern, a look he gave often, but never to you. “Move.” You quickly sighed and backed away.

He walked in, stopping in the center of the room, looking around for anything else that was on his ‘no’ list. When he didn't find anything, he sighed and yelled. “Whoever you are, you have two seconds to come out here, grab your things, and leave before I make you regret ever laying a hand on my daughter.”

“Dad-”

“Zip it.” He snapped back at you. He looked back to the room, hands on hips (his iconic parental pose.) “Starting now.”

Your friend slowly came out of your closet and went to greet your dad. Stupidly trying to act as if nothing had happened. “Hi, Mr-”

“You can show yourself out.” Your dad has his arms crossed with an unamused look on his face.

“Yeah.” Your hopefully-soon-to-be-you-really-like-this-guy-boy-guy-friend said.

You were still by the door. Hands behind your back and looking down, smiling. “Bye.” He said. You looked up slightly and gave a tight lip smile, it was genuine though.

Your dad waited till he heard the front door shut before he started with you. “Y/n Healy.” The last name meant you were in trouble.

“Hi.” You said, hesitantly but sweetly.

“What the actual fuck were you thinking.” he was angry. Legitimately angry. Which was a rare sight when the anger was directed towards you.

You however were in a state of bliss and still couldn't get over the fact that a BOY likes you. Like an actual human, teenage, hot boy. So you weren't concerned with what he was doing. “Well…I was thinking that you wouldn't be home for another hour and that would be plenty of time to continue what I was doing, and then my friend who you just met would leave, and you or anyone else would never find out?” You smiled.

“Stop being a smart ass.”

“You asked me what I was thinking!” You laughed

“Is this funny to you?”

You thought for a moment. Looking down and pondering. “Yeah! Kind of!”

Your dad was not happy.

Your face changed when you realized he was still serious. “I mean, no. No, of course not.”

He took a few steps towards you. “Are you trying to be grounded?”

You kept smiling and tried to hold your ground at the same time. Eventually, you gave up. “I like this! I like being a teenager! I like having fun, and then lying to you, and then telling you immediately after because I feel bad! I like him! We weren't even doing anything! We were just kissing and doing other things I don’t want to tell you about. And I had fun.”

Matty rolled his eyes.

“When was the last time you saw me smile this big.”

“Are you high right now?”

To be honest you weren’t. You were just in the middle of reeling in your new-found bliss that it was all getting to your head. Your dad was realizing it though. You were happy.

“Let’s be honest Dad, I would’ve told you what would’ve happened because I felt bad or something. I can’t keep a secret. Especially not from you.”

He sighed again. You knew you had broke him, and won. You also knew that he was going to keep this stone face up for as long as he could. You reached out your arms trying to bring him back to earth. “I can’t hug you right now.”

“Why not?” You asked, putting your arms down.

He walked past you and through the door. “Go wash yourself clean of your sins, then give me a hug.”

“Dad!” You laughed. “Does that mean I’m not grounded?”

He looked at you from the top of the stairs. “Will you lie to me again?”

“No.” You said. He knew you were being genuine. He knew his baby.

“Okay, you’re not grounded.” He continued his walk down the stairs. You grabbed your towel and headed to the bathroom, getting ready to shower. But not before texting you know-who and telling him the hilarity that just happened.

[ceasarslegion]

Ok you can't just tease gory roommate stories and then not share them! Pleeease tell us more!

I didn't answer this at first because I had to go back to dig up the photos to prove I am not fucking with you when I say how disgusting that place was

So how we ended up living together was that I had just graduated uni, toronto is too expensive so I couldn't stay there as much as I wanted to, and a federal government career opportunity in PEI fell through on the basis that I "didn't look enough like a minority" (which is a lot to unpack but let's just move on, if anyone wants that story send another ask my way lmao). So all this in mind, I had to grab all my stuff and fuck off back to edmonton and take a paying-the-bills job for a while.

I also needed a place to live, so I called up a few of my friends in edmonton and asked if any of them needed a roommate because I was making minimum wage in a mall skincare store, I couldn't afford to live alone. This person responded and told me they needed a roommate to get out of the sketchy part of the city. Win-win.

Honestly, would've been better taking my chances on craigslist. This person single-handedly ruined the concept of roommates for me for the rest of my goddamn life.

When I say disgusting, I mean vile. I mean that the entire time I was there I had the one laundry card from our unit and she never once asked for it. I don't know where or when or how she was doing her laundry, but most of her clothes were strewn about randomly. She had 2 cats, and cleaned their litter boxes maybe once a month, never brushed them. Cat hair everywhere, the whole place reeked of cat piss, dirty litter got tracked across the whole house, and one time one of them barfed on the carpet and she didn't even touch it for weeks. I left it there as a test to see if she would actually clean up after her own animals if I didn't get fed up and do it for her, like I ALWAYS did with everything else.

Dirty dishes were left to rot, her definition of "cleaning" them was soaking them in their own filth overnight and then putting them back in the cupboard, no brush or sponge. Half the time the dishes were fucking coated in grease and mold that was just rinsed off. And every time that happened was when I didn't do them. She ended up getting a tabletop dishwasher at one point and was so fucking lazy that she couldn't even be assed to throw a dishwasher tab in there and hit the on button when it got full, just kept piling dishes up in the sink.

The floors were COVERED in untouched impulse bought shopping bags that she would set down and never pick up again. The fridge and cupboards were chock all of all her impulse bought food to the point where I had no space for my own. She just kept buying more and more of the same shit she already had and then getting pissed at ME when I told her to reorganize the fucking fridge so that I can EAT. Honestly this was where I started getting petty and just eating her food, because it would go fucking moldy and sit there and she wouldn't do shit about it if I didn't.

I was the only one who ever took out the garbage. I was the only one who cleaned the bathroom. Wait sorry, she did it ONCE, so I'm a hypocrite /s. The previous sentence was her logic and tactics for arguing whenever I asked them to clean up after themself. Multiple times I had to deal with their used pads because they couldn't be fucking assed to take out the bathroom trash.

And hey, when I said I was fine with her boyfriend coming over sometimes, I didn't say he could basically just move in, throw all HIS trash everywhere, and never move out. I don't think that motherfucker (who was more disgusting than her) ever slept at his own goddamn house for 6 straight months.

She smoked so much weed that I think she might be the first person to have a legitimate weed addiction, often INSIDE so we would get smoking complaints. She would howl like a BANSHEE into the early hours of the morning on ps online with her brother in a building with thin walls. She would hoard all the dishes in her room to rot to the point where half the time I didn't have bowls to eat out of, because they were molding in her room.

One time, she made soup. And then didn't clean the pot for multiple MONTHS. And when I told her to clean her disgusting pot her reaction was to put it on the floor. Do you think I'm a fucking dinosaur whose visual competence is based on movement? Do you think im fucking stupid?

This all came to a head on provincial election night of 2023. I was a campaign staffer for the NDP so obviously e-day was hectic for me. I left my apartment at 6am and didn't get back until past midnight scrambling to get last minute canvassing done and poll inspections and go to the results party. She knew this, it was her day off, she promised me she would clean up her mess

When I get home, what do I find?

Not only is the mess not touched, it is worse. "Dirty underwear in the hallway" worse. She spent all fucking day playing video games and smoking weed. And now I would have to clean it all up because she won't, she never did, not one time did she ever actually make good on her promises to clean up after herself, I did it EVERY. TIME.

Oh wait no, sometimes she would move bags into a corner, so I'm a hypocrite and I'm asking too much of a grown-ass adult who is OLDER than me and she has to walk on eggshells around me. I'm so cruel and terrible and a bad person whose hygiene expectations of not breathing in cat piss are impossible. Don't I know she has depression and works 6 days a week? I'm a bad terrible ableist piece of shit and if I don't like it I can just leave. Which is what she acted like when I got so pissed at that that I confronted her about it and told her to get her fucking act together and grow the fuck up and take some responsibility for the fucking pigstye she was making other people live in. And then the next morning I found a lovely note on the fridge calendar that said "[boyfriend] moves in soon <3" so she was just kicking me out. Because I told her to pick up her dirty fucking underwear. She also had the AUDACITY to tell me that I was being unreasonable and had impossible standards of hygiene and that "it literally doesn't affect you"

So I went "lmao bet" and then told my landlord I was taking that offer of his to break the lease. What she didn't know was that I was telling him all this shit just in case I would have to bail early and cover my ass with the rental board. And he agreed that she was so unreasonable that he drafted me up a written agreement that this was a special case and he would not charge me fines or slap a broken lease on my record on the grounds that my roommate made my situation unlivable and a hazard to my health and safety. I contacted my grandma to move into her basement for a while and a week later I fucked off, leaving her with the entire rent and all the utility bills. I think it's less than she deserved honestly, I want my fucking security deposit back. Although I was very petty and did a shit job of patching up and repainting the mounted tv holes in my bedroom wall so they could deal with that.

Here's the photos of what I lived in for 9 months:

Are you taking the fucking piss

Now I live alone and I'm never doing roommates again. The only people I am living with are either my life partner or I'm moving back in with family if I can't afford it. I'll pump gas in the ass end of nowhere Saskatchewan in my Nan and grandads trailer before I live in this again

[nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos]

Managed to crank out a new chapter.

Only took...literal eons.

Okay maybe not that long but it fckin felt like it 😵

Anywho.

OPLA!Mihawk x OC

Previous Chapter Link

Chapter 1 Link

Chapter 7: Intrigue and Intimidation

Word Count: 4.8k

Tags: Slow-burn, Enemies to Lovers, eventually NSFW, uh, if I think of more I'll add them or something

After having her sloop sunk by the Buggy Pirates and losing most of her worldly possessions in the process, the normally solitary mercenary Karimi Lionne finds herself teaming up with the rag-tag little crew that is the Strawhat Pirates to defeat them. She bonds with them far more quickly than she bargained for, and that quickly turns into a problem for the Kiku Kiku no Mi devil fruit user when she learns of Nami's plans to leave them high and dry, and Zoro issues a challenge at Baratie that he very likely won't live long enough to regret.

At least two more hours passed, as the sparring bordered on legitimate physical torture; there was no way the swordsman couldn’t tell Karimi was bordering on losing consciousness by the end of it, able to do no more than stumble forward and make a half-hearted swipe with one of her daggers. She halfway wondered if this wouldn’t end until she did pass out from overexertion.

“Enough.”

The second he swiped her dagger away with his knife, the second that word left his mouth, she collapsed to her knees and fell backward onto the grass. Mihawk watched her for a moment as he sheathed his own knife and fixed the cord back around his neck again, giving a small scoff at the pitiful sight of her—hair darkened and dampened with sweat, face reddened under her freckles, shoving her daggers back into their sheaths and pulling her hat down over her face as she expelled a heavy sigh.

Nevertheless, she had performed decently—perhaps better than he had expected her to.

“You did well,” he said after a moment. “I’ve seen worse, at any rate.” His eyes passed up and down her briefly, her chest still rising and falling heavily as she lay limp on the grass. “Though your stamina could use work.”

“I’m hung over. And I haven’t eaten in almost twenty-four hours,” she said tersely, still catching her breath. She swallowed. “I…I’m just gonna…gonna stay here.”

“No, you won’t.” She gave a growl of annoyance—and then lifted her arm, extended her middle finger briefly, and let the limp fall back to the ground heavily. Mihawk rolled his eyes skyward—she might be of some use as an associate, but if her attitude didn’t adjust soon he might simply end up pushing her over the side of his boat and watching her sink. “Your dear friend made mention that dinner will be at five o’clock. That gives you perhaps an hour to get yourself cleaned up.”

“Why don’t you go off and play a nice game of hide and go fuck yours—” Her own cry of alarm cut her words off when Mihawk, having heard quite enough, stooped down and pulled her roughly to her feet by her wrist. Her hand flew immediately to that wretched old hat, fixing it back in place atop her head. “What are—excuse me—”

But Mihawk was already lifting her up over his shoulder. “If you insist on acting like a child, you will be treated like one.”

“I’m not a sack of potatoes,” she complained—but there didn’t seem to be enough strength left in her to put up a fight over it with anything more than words.

“Roughly as useful as one,” he said under his breath.

“Potatoes are plenty useful. All the ways they can be prepared, makes for a decent projectile weapon in a pinch—”

“Would you be quiet?”

“If you’re going to treat me like I child I’m going to act like one,” she said, and even had the nerve to make a cruel mockery of his tone. He could practically hear the girl smirking, and for more than a brief moment he considered simply dropping her.

“Or I could end your life right now,” he suggested.

“Just make it quick and painless, if you don’t mind.”

She truly seemed to have an answer for everything—an answer, a taunt, an insult, as if she truly had no reservations at all that he truly could end her life with ease, without an ounce of hesitation. As if she simply didn’t care. Irritating though she was, that had briefly piqued his interest from their first meeting. She had said the same words there on the docks like a joke, to make it quick and painless, but had shown legitimate fear only minutes later when he seized her by her neck.

“Do you not fear death at all?” he asked, almost incredulously, after a long pause.

Karimi leaned back against the front door of the mansion when he set her back upon her feet near the entrance, and gave a slight shrug.

“I’m already living on borrowed time, anyway.”

And, as if that were a perfectly reasonable response, she simply turned and pulled the door open, heading inside without another word on the subject. It took another long moment for Mihawk to process her statement, frowning at the open doorframe as she disappeared into a room off to the left of the sprawling foyer. There was every chance she was doing this on purpose—that she thought he would be less likely to kick her to the curb if he had some interest in her.

There was every chance she was listening to his thoughts to decide exactly how to manipulate him toward that interest. It was impossible to discretely tell whether her haki was active or not at any given time, with her dark green curls covering the black pinpricks just behind her ears that signified it was in use. This was an issue he would have to find a way to deal with—and quickly.

Karimi heard the front door shut several seconds after she had entered herself, reasonably pleased that she had evidently blindsided the warlord. She might not have been able to best him in physical combat, but she had no issue wielding words against him—and the true beauty of it was didn’t even need to use her devil fruit powers to do so.

She found Kaya in the parlor off to the left of the foyer, sitting in an armchair with her feet curled under her and a book open in her lap. Karimi knocked lightly at the doorframe as she spoke up. “We’re done. Finally. Same room as last time?”

“Yes, that’s fine with—oh, heavens,” said Kaya when she looked up and caught sight of Karimi—drenched in sweat, still catching her breath a bit, drying blood caked on her cheek and grass stains on her white shirt and tan shorts. “Are…are you…?”

“Oh, I’m fine,” she said dismissively. “Just exhausted. Wanted to get in a bath before dinner, for…” She looked down at herself pointedly, grimacing a bit at the sight of the stains on her shirt and shorts. She didn’t own many clothes anymore, only what she had managed to salvage from her ship before it sank, and she was fairly certain at least this shirt was ruined now. That was just wonderful. She gave a sigh. “For obvious reasons.”

“Y…yes, of course,” said Kaya, a bit weakly, still staring at her with wide, astonished eyes. “W—were you sparring this entire time?” Karimi gave a nod. “It’s been nearly four hours, how are you still standing?”

“Stubbornness and sheer force of will?” she offered—her legs honestly felt like they were made of jelly at this point, so it wasn’t too far from the truth. She laughed a little. “So anyway…” She nodded toward the stairs. “Bath. I’ll show our local lord the guest quarters. Best you have limited contact with him. He has all the tact of a ill-mannered housecat.”

Kaya’s eyes grew a bit wider at that. Darted, for a fleeting moment, to just over Karimi’s shoulder, before returning to her eyes.

On glancing over her own shoulder Karimi noted that the warlord was standing just behind her, arms crossed, his impatient countenance indicating that he had definitely heard her description of him. She sighed to herself, looking back at Kaya, and gave a quick smile. “Excuse me a moment.” She turned then to face Mihawk, crossed her own arms and leaned her shoulder into the doorframe, quickly glancing up and down him. “You have all the tact of a ill-mannered housecat.”

The warlord blinked at her slowly for a moment, his expression unchanged. Then he rolled his eyes toward the high ceiling for a moment. “And you possess the decorum equivalent of a poorly trained circus ape.” His eyes returned to hers as she raised her eyebrows, pursing her lips. “The guest rooms, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course, your lordship,” she said tersely. She turned, gave Kaya a pleasant smile and a wave. The smile that Kaya returned appeared more than a little strained. Karimi was sure the girl was beginning to regret inviting them to stay, even if only for the night. Karimi started toward the stairs, adding, “Right this way for the grand tour, your eminency—”

“Oh for the love of…” She smirked herself as she heard him grumble behind her in irritation. “Why exactly do you insist upon being such an insolent brat?”

“Largely because I resent the entire idea of this arrangement and I would like to be able to go back in time and retract my offer,” she said coldly, gripping the railing tightly as she ascended the grand staircase to assist in pushing her weakened muscles forward. If she could just make it as far as her room and get a bath drawn to soak in for a while, she would be fine. She was sure of it. “But also because it’s entertaining.”

Mihawk didn’t bother speaking to her any further as she led the way through the sprawling mansion. She indicated the door to the dressing room when they passed it, indicated the hall of guest bedrooms, and slipped away into her own room without another word or taunt. The very first thing she did was fall into the queen-sized bed at the center of the room, groaning quietly and setting her hat aside to pull a pillow over her face.

That was where she spent the next several minutes, both unwilling and nearly unable to move, idly hoping that perhaps if she remained lying atop the fluffy comforter she might sink completely into it and simply vanish in a puff of abysmal luck. The exhaustion was far more than only physical. An entire year serving that jackass meant an entire year that she couldn’t focus on her own goal, her only goal, and it would slip that much further away from her. Not that she was remotely close to it, anyway—the longer she searched, the more uncertain everything seemed.

It took every ounce of her will to pull herself back to her feet, trudge into the adjoining bathroom, and begin running a bath.

She was nearly late making it downstairs to dinner, tugging at the low neckline of the shimmering dark green dress she had changed into—off shoulder, but with long sleeves to cover the scars across her arm, a conversation point that she didn’t particularly enjoy taking part in. Kaya at least hadn’t come downstairs yet, so she couldn’t have been too late.

No, the only people in the foyer were a couple of the staff passing through toward the kitchen and dining room, and the new bane of her existence. Leaning one elbow against the banister of the stairs and holding a glass of wine by its stem, the warlord had changed into a white shirt with a ruffled collar, half unbuttoned and tucked into a pair of black pants, a dark red cape draped over his shoulders, though his plumed hat and heavy boots remained unchanged.

Kaya’s whisper from earlier, when she had first introduced the girl to him, rand in her head for a moment—Well, he is quite handsome, isn’t he?—before she shoved it away, rolling her eyes as she passed him and made for the table holding a few bottles of wine and crystal glasses. She set down her tricorne and leather satchel on the table, the latter containing a change of clothes so she could get out of the dress as soon as dinner was done with; and then she uncorked the already opened bottle of Pinot Blanc and set to pouring a glass about halfway full.

“You look like a houseplant.”

Karimi gritted her teeth at the sound of his voice and tipped the wine bottle again, filling the glass nearly to its rim. She glanced at Mihawk as she shoved the cork back into the bottle, as the warlord’s gaze passed pointedly from curly green hair hanging over one of her shoulders to her short green dress—and briefly down the length of her legs, just long enough for her face to heat up in irritation. Irritation, and absolutely nothing else. Karimi mimed the action, her own eyes remaining on the definition of his muscles visible between the open lapels of his shirt for a moment, before meeting his gaze.

“You look like an arrogant prick,” she said, and took a sip from her glass. “But what else is new.”

Quite handsome, isn’t he?

She turned away from him, leaning back against the table and rolling her eyes away from his piercing tallow gaze. No, He was an infuriating jerk, and nothing more.

“Oh, dear, am I—?” Karimi looked over as Kaya hurried into the foyer from the dining room, hurriedly untying an apron from around her waist and glancing at the clock. “I’m sorry I kept you waiting, I thought I’d try to help in the kitchen.”

“I would have helped, too,” said Karimi, frowning. She wasn’t necessarily the best cook, but she had learned more than enough to get by in the past six years on her own, in addition to the basics she had learned from her grandmother.

“Oh, no,” said Kaya, shaking her head as she hung her apron on the coat rack near the door. “You’re a guest here. Besides,” she went on as she pulled her platinum hair down from the ponytail it had been tied back into, “you were half-dead on your feet an hour ago. I’m surprised you even made it downstairs.”

“Ah, few glasses of water and a nice long soak in the tub and I’m right as rain,” said Karimi, waving a hand dismissively. It wasn’t entire true—she was sore all over, and the heels on her borrowed black pumps weren’t doing any favors for the ache and tightness of her calf muscles—but she had definitely endured much worse in far less favorable settings. She glanced behind her and picked up the open bottle of Pinot Blanc, giving it a light shake. “Wine?”

Kaya bit her lip a moment, hesitating. “Well, I…haven’t ever really…”

“Oh, then you have to,” said Karimi, setting her own glass down and pulling the cork from the bottle. She picked up an empty glass, “How else can we toast your newfound freedom from oppression?”

She chuckled a little at that. “Oh…fine, then. But not too much?” She glanced at Karimi’s overfull glass, lifting her eyebrows pointedly.

“Just a drop,” agreed Karimi, filling the glass just short of half-full before passing it over to Kaya.

“You shouldn’t overdo it, either,” said the younger girl, taking the glass with a small, concerned frown. “As much as you overexerted yourself earlier. I would hate to see you sick all night.”

“Oh, no,” Karimi laughed as she shoved the cork back into the bottle once more. ”If I managed to get sick after one glass of wine my grandmother would rise from her grave just to laugh in my face.”

Mihawk glanced over at that, as she and Kaya clinked their glasses together in their toast. This wasn’t the first time she had mentioned her grandmother—she had said in passing that the woman had perhaps trained her in haki, or at the very least used it herself to dampen Karimi’s devil fruit power.

Kaya saved him the trouble of pressing the subject himself after taking a small sip of wine. “Your grandmother sounds like quite an interesting woman,” she said, smiling. “You said she raised you?”

“Mmhmm,” hummed Karimi, through the swing of wine she had just taken the moment her grandmother was mentioned. Mihawk kept his eyes trained onto her face as she swallowed; onto her eyes, as she turned them downward for a moment.” Taught me everything she knew. She was a tough old broad. Wouldn’t be here without her.” She leaned back against the table, lifting her gaze again. “So what are we doing for dinner? I recall you mentioning you hadn’t been able to eat fish since your so-called illness,”

And just like that, as though it had never even been mentioned, the subject was a moot point. The way the girl evaded subjects she didn’t wish to discuss was practically artful, revealing just enough to allow her a chance to deter the asker in another direction. Regardless of how long she had spent on the sea, it was clear she had spent some great deal of time burying her past.

Throughout the dinner, and throughout the wine shared in the parlor after, Mihawk remained mostly silent. He spoke when spoken to, made niceties where necessary with their young host, but for the better part of it all he stayed at the desk in the parlor, quietly drafting out the contract and observing his new associate from the corner of his vision; gauging her interactions, observing how she spoke with and behaved around someone she considered herself friendly with.

Listening for discrepancies in her stories and claims.

It wasn’t long at all before Kaya turned in—though she was no longer actively being poisoned, her constitution was still far less than average, and she said she didn’t dare risk more than a small glass or two of wine. That left himself and Karimi alone in the parlor, left with Kaya’s insistence that they were welcome to enjoy the wine themselves.

“Oh, yeah, such enjoyable company…” Mihawk wasn’t surprised to hear his subordinate mutter under her breath once Kaya was out of the room. He sighed to himself and rolled his eyes toward the high ceiling, definitely not for the first time today.

“Have you always been such an insufferable brat?” he said irately, glaring over his shoulder at her. She scoffed in response, leaning back a bit further into the plush sofa and propping her boots up on the coffee table in front of her, looking more than a bit ridiculous with that tattered tricorne of hers contrasting so hideously with her off-shoulder green dress that he found himself resisting the urge to rip it from her head and toss it out the nearest window.

“Takes one to know one,” she said loftily.

He didn’t need to see her face to know the girl was smirking. It only irritated the warlord more that he found her remotely interesting—he could, and likely would, have killed her well before the day had drawn this near its end.

And yet, this did present the perfect opportunity to question her. “Do tell me.” He set his pen down lightly and pushed his chair away from the desk, standing slowly. “Six or eight?”

“Excuse me?” she said amid a sigh, swilling her wine glass around a little before taking a slow sip of the deep burgundy liquid.

“Eight,” he said, slowly approaching the back of the sofa, “or six? I recall you mentioned having six years’ experience on the sea…” He stopped just behind the sofa, crossing his arms as he looked down at her, her face concealed by that ridiculous hat, “and then saying it was eight a few hours earlier.”

“I said I have six years’ experience as a mercenary,” she corrected. “And eight at sea in total.”

“Then you didn’t jump straight into a life of murder for hire?” She gave another small sigh, this one of clear irritation. She swiped her hat off of her head and pinched at the bridge of her nose as she set it on the end table beside the arm of the couch, tilting her head back to look up at him.

“No,” she said firmly, “I didn’t.”

Her answers were as short as her small stature, as usual. She scowled a little when he lifted an eyebrow, lowering her head and her gaze from his once more as he spoke again. “And what were you doing those first two years?”

“I was with a crew.” She crossed her arms, and while she still lounged back in the couch, there was a small degree of tension in her voice, in the slight squaring of her shoulders. “We parted on decent enough terms, but I had my own plans and they had theirs. I haven’t been in contact with them since.”

“What crew?”

“No one important.”

Mihawk stared down at the girl for a long moment, his eyebrow still quirked. The way she deflected questions, his questions, without a flicker of discernible fear, still astounded him. He turned just enough to grab his wine glass from the desk behind him, giving a small scoff, a small shake of his head. “You either have nerves of steel or the intelligence of a thumbtack, little one,” he commented, and downed the last sip of his wine. He circled slowly around the sofa, to were the open bottle of cabernet sat upon the coffee table where her feet were propped up, slipped out of her black shoes and covered by dark nylon stockings.

Her eyes turned to him briefly in a glare, before she finished off her glass and tilted her head back, pointedly looking away from him.

His eyes remained on her, however.

The short, form-fitting dress accentuated her figure far better than her usual loose-fitting shirts and shorts, a figure was certainly easy on the eyes. His gaze drifted up the length of her slender legs covered in sheer dark nylon as he filled his glass; over the curve of her hip, the swell of her breasts and the slope of her bare shoulders as he set the bottle back down lightly. Perhaps part of it stemmed from the few glasses of wine he had consumed since dinner, but the thought passed through his mind that he wouldn’t object to having such a pretty little thing warming his bed that night.

He picked the wine bottle back up, his sharp eyes lingering on her neck as he rounded the side of the sofa again—more particularly, on the grizzly scar spanning across the pale skin, from her throat to perhaps an inch short of a major artery. He hadn’t noticed it before now, hadn’t really paid the mercenary’s appearance much mind, and the scar would have normally been shadowed by her thick hair and her chin.

Perhaps an inch further, and whatever blade had inflicted that scar may have also taken her life.

Interesting.

Karimi jumped slightly, glancing over sharply, when Mihawk tilted the bottle over the edge of her own glass where she had it resting at the arm of the sofa and refilled it himself. He set the bottle down on the end table by her hat, leaning against the sofa with an elbow draped over the back, the stem of his wine glass resting between his middle and index fingers, his eyes still glued to her neck.

She tensed when he reached out and brushed his knuckles across the soft skin, growing stiff as a statue and pulling in a sharp breath as they grazed lightly over the scar. “And what precisely,” he said, his voice low, almost intimate, “is the story behind this, little bird?”

“First and only time a Marine got a hold of me,” she said stiffly, gritting her teeth against the words.

And more interesting by the second—perhaps an explanation for why she so despised Marines, why she had grown more and more obviously uncomfortable the closer they drew to Garp’s ship earlier in the day.

“And where is this Marine now?” he inquired, his tone tinged with the slightest amusement at how some of her tension lifted the moment his touch moved away from her scar, a slow sigh parting her dark red lips. She closed her eyes as he brushed a few locks of her dark green hair behind her ear before lowering his hand back to his side.

She swallowed, and said, just as curtly, “Dead.”

“Your doing?”

“His own actions resulted in his death.”

“Hmm.” It wasn’t a real answer—of course it wasn’t. She might have killed him, or she might not have, and it seemed she had no intention of clarifying. That was fine for now, he decided, watching as she straightened her posture and took a long drink from her glass.

A little more wine and her tongue might begin to loosen.

She set her glass down on the end table, and his eyes followed the movement…and landed on that tattered old leather tricorne.

“And what of this eyesore?” He lifted the hat, turning it over in his hand, briefly taking in the patch on the front brim, two more on the back. “Looks as though it could use replacing—”

And in one quick and frankly graceful motion, Karimi was on her feet, one of her daggers drawn from her belt laying on the coffee table, the point of the blade poised just under his chin.

“Hands. Off,” she growled, snatching the hat away with her free hand, her emerald green eyes boring a deadly glare into his own gaze. For a long moment, he could only stare at the girl, utterly taken aback at her audacity as she shoved the hat back down onto the end table. Maybe the wine was already showing its effect on her, if she was stupid enough to physically threaten him.

He scoffed as his initial astonishment broke, shaking his head at her and setting his wine glass down lightly.

And then he grabbed hold of her wrist, twisting it aside with enough force that she winced in pain and dropped her dagger, where it landed with a muffled thud a few inches to the right of her foot.

Just as quickly as she had drawn her blade, Karimi was shoved down to the sofa—one of his knees held down both of her legs, one hand pinned both of her delicate wrists over her head and against the armrest. His other gripped the hilt of kogatana, pressing the flat of the blade against her neck, aligned with the scar already spanning across it. She swallowed, glancing down at the blade, before returning her gaze to his eyes—and while her stare remained defiant and her jaw set, there was the smallest flicker of fear evident in how her breathing quickened just a little.

Once more she swallowed as he leaned in closer, close enough that he could feel the warmth of her trembling sigh brush across his own lips, smell the wine on her breath, the wide brim of his hat casting a shadow over her face.

“You might find it in your best interest to never threaten me again, little bird.”

Despite his low and threatening tone, and despite the growing anxiousness in her emerald eyes, she kept up her act of defiance.

“Then don’t touch it,” she said through her teeth.

“Oh?” She drew in a slow quivering breath as he pressed the flat side of the blade a bit more firmly to the delicate skin of her neck. “In case you have forgotten already,” he said slowly, “for the next year you belong to me.” He lifted kogatana from her neck, turning the knife in his hand. She openly flinched as he brought it down toward her face, turning her head away slightly and finally breaking her gaze away from his. He smirked, and simply brushed a few strands of her hair away from her forehead with the edge of the blade. “You are in no position to be giving me orders.”

“Fine.” Though she still spoke through gritted teeth, her voice shook the slightest bit, and the rosy flush growing beneath her freckles seemed to be from more than just the alcohol she had consumed. “Then please don’t touch my hat, sir.”

Sarcastic, of course—Mihawk had more than expected that. It seemed to be her go-to defense mechanism, even in situations where it could get her into more trouble than it could pull her out of it. It was her obvious unease that was the true reward here. He gave a brief nod, pulling his blade back.

“Better.”

And with that he released her hands, standing from the sofa and straightening his hat as he strolled back over to the end table and lifted his wine glass again, taking a sip as he watched her draw in a deep breath and let it out as a slow sigh, her eyes closing for a moment. She swallowed, and stood abruptly herself.

Picked up her wine glass, downed it in a few gulps, and refilled it.

Retrieved her belt and satchel from the coffee table, her hat from the end table, her dagger from the floor, and glared straight into his eyes, her pale complexion still tinged with an almost scarlet flush.

“Good night,” she snapped.

And she stormed out of the parlor without another word or glance toward the warlord.