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missroki · 3 months

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SAY ‘I LOVE YOU’┊for weeks you’ve tried (and failed) to tell your boyfriend that you love him for the first time. as fate would have it, your annual summer camping trip is coming up and your friends desperately want to meet him. a serene lake side might be the setting you need to finally tell him how you feel.

content: sickeningly sweet fluff, smut, not canon leaning, female! reader x geto suguru, established relationship, reader is hinted to have sexual trauma, skinny dipping, intimate conversations regarding romance, piv sex, no power dynamics really, reader is called baby and sweetheart, all lowercase. word count: 4.3k

it’s late afternoon by the time you arrive, the last of the group to make it if you were to guess. the sunlight streams through steadily growing trees, leaves growing denser with thick, sturdy trunks. the closer you get to the campsite the less busy the roads become; winding and bending as you make your way to the lake side.

the ac in your 2003 subaru is no match for the early summer heat and even with all the windows down, it still leaves a layer of sweat on your skin; your tank top sticking to your back. when you feel a palm squeezing your thigh, you glance over at your boyfriend on the other side of the car. suguru has an easy smile on his face, eyes focused on the road. his other hand grips the steering wheel and keeps it steady.

"you’re quiet,” he murmurs, “don’t tell me the heat’s already gotten to you.” he has to raise his voice a bit, the wind and gentle radio in the background drowning him out.

"it might have," you tease, “or maybe i just don’t have anything to say. it’s beautiful here and i haven’t been back in a long time.” you reach over to palm the skin of his neck, feeling the way his hair sticks to it. you tuck suguru’s bangs into his top knot and he hums in appreciation.

there’s a gentle shake and you feel the car sputter along with the smell of oil burning as it wafts through the front seats. normal for your shitty little compact suv, but still troubling. your boyfriend distracts you with a soft laugh. “what’s so funny?” you ask, a teasing lift in your voice.

“nothing, nothing,” he replies, “it’s just that i’ve heard so much about this lake that i want to see it already. if only we hadn’t taken that detour…”

you let out a huff and pout beside him. “in my defense, i wasn’t aware that my navigation skills had gotten so rusty. i was a girl scout for seven years, you know.”

“oh trust me, sweetheart, i know. it’s the one hobby you never shut up about–“

you reach over to playfully slap at his chest, feeling the rumble of his laugh beneath your palm. he lifts the hand that was previously on your thigh to grip yours instead, tugging it into his lap in protest. “no hitting when i’m driving. when we get to the lake you can commit any and all domestic violence there.”

his thumb starts to caress your skin, placating you for now. “fine, but i get the first s’more! satoru always adds syrup and drizzles it on top and it tastes heavenly.”

“you’re both sick.”

“and you are a buzzkill. nothing wrong with a little extra artificial sweetner.”

“if i remember correctly it was two cavities last dentist visit, right– don’t pull away.” you try to anyway but his grip is strong, a smile on his face that tells you he’s purposely pushing your buttons.

“easy now, sweetheart. wouldn’t want me to crash into the sunset when we’re almost there.” he lifts your hand to his mouth, pressing a kiss to it. you try to ignore the way your heart beats against your chest. the words are right there on your tongue, waiting to be let out. i love you. i’m so happy you’re with me.

they don’t come, though, and you lean deeper into the passenger seat. “you’re lucky we’re dating. i would have left you on the side of the road miles ago.”

“and lose your passenger princess title? i doubt it.”

you shrug your shoulders, staring off into the forest as it encases your small car. if you looked close enough, hints of blue water would tease your vision. “i would have managed. a warm fire, pretty stars. i think you and the gas station attendant would have had a great time.”

“surely he wouldn’t have minded a large asian man soliciting on the property.”

“nah,” you smile, voice light, “of course not.”

a comfortable silence fills the car. the outside wilderness is vast, a large area of overgrown grass, leaves and roots. as you traverse deeper into the area you’re suddenly surrounded by the thick opening of the forest that breaks off and slopes down to where the lake rests. typically, a campfire would already be made in the center, circling the space with a large amalgamation of rocks; ashes littering the ground and causing the soil to dry up under your feet.

the absence of the others confuses you, throwing a glance at suguru at the same time he does you. where is everyone?

he pulls into the area that normally would be littered with tents and sleeping bags but you’re too confused to make him privy to this information.

you quickly shift your gaze throughout the campsite, looking for tufts of bright white hair or even a hint of styled blonde. the only sound you hear is from small critters and the gentle rush of water from a nearby stream. you don’t hear shoko’s laughter or nanami’s stern reprimanding. it’s silent. peaceful, but silent.

your boyfriend comes up behind you, placing a hand on your shoulder in an effort to calm your obviously racing mind. “they must be running late, too.” he reasons. “why don’t we set up and get the fire going, yeah?”

you nod, turning around to face him. his hair is now pulled up completely in a loose bun, tendrils tickling his cheeks from where they refuse to stay put. you fight the urge to tuck them away. “can we try calling them?”

he shakes his head, lifting up his phone to show the lack of cell service. “one step ahead of you.”

you sigh but ultimately nod, cracking your knuckles and shaking out your still tired legs. the drive had been a long one.

“alright then,” you breathe, “let’s get started.”

of course they got pulled over.

all that time spent paying off his parking tickets and gojo satoru has already gotten his license revoked again. you groan into the receiver, suguru holding the phone to your ear as you finish placing down the extra bags from the back seat of your car. you grab the phone with a mouthed ‘thank you’ and make your way to the pier once more.

after a few hours of no signal. you had managed to get a bar or two near the old wooden pier, tiny and definitely dangerous if not for the pillars holding it in place. you hear nanami sigh on the other line and you can practically hear the way he pinches his nose bridge.

“this is my fault, i shouldn’t have trusted him to make it all the way here. shoko started playing ice spice and apparently satoru decided it was time to ‘shake ass’ as he called it and–“

“you shook ass too, nanamin!” satoru yells in the muffled background.

“not the point, satoru!”

you bend down briefly to toss a pebble across the deep blue water, trying your best to stay angry but coming up with merely surface level disappointment. you let out a sigh, feeling familiar hands gripping your waist and pulling you into a strong front. suguru nuzzles into your neck, placing a warm kiss to your salty skin. innocent, gentle.

“when will you guys be getting here?” you ask, trying to ignore the way two thumbs rub into the soft flesh at your waist.

“hopefully by tomorrow. they let us off with a warning but since none of us are on satoru’s insurance they’re being difficult. tell suguru we’re sorry for the inconvenience. we really wanted to meet him.”

the man in question bites down gently into your neck, a sharp breath involuntarily leaving your mouth. “o-oh,” you swat at him half heartedly, “i’m sure he’s fine.”

“seriously, let him know we’ll be there bright and early. we can even bring those canned sausages you like so much…”

nanami’s voice drifts further and further away as your hand slowly falls from your ear. you turn your head to meet suguru’s waiting lips, gently pecking as his hot tongue teases at the seam of your mouth. you pull back with a whine. “baby, i’m on the phone.”

“hang up.” he goes back to sucking and kissing down the expanse of your neck, the skin exposed in the tank top you’re wearing. you quickly lift the phone to your ear.

“–and realistically if we take the short cut we will be there much faster, but who knows if traffic will hit since it’ll be a sunday–“

“n-no worries, see you then!”

you hang up and toss the device onto the deck, the screen reflecting against the lake as it catches the sunlight; shimmery gold underneath deep oranges and reds.

you turn around and lift suguru’s chin so that his lips once again meet yours. his hands move to squeeze your ass over your jean shorts in large handfuls. “you look so pretty,” he murmurs, “it’s hard keeping my hands off you when i can see the outline of your nipples in that shirt.” his right hand is sandwiched etween you two, easily popping open the metal button of your shorts and unzipping them.

you let out a gasp once you realize that his hand is traveling lower, reaching down to grab his wrist. “fuck, sugu, wait. i’m all sweaty.”

he hums in your mouth, biting down on your lip. “you know that doesn’t bother me. just spread your legs, sweetheart.”

you feel heat rising in your neck and face. “b-but that bothers me and i don’t– fuck–” suddenly it feels a little harder to breathe, your heart pumping faster from not arousal but fear. you probably seemed so childish. he’d touched you there plenty of times before and you didn’t want to disappoint him but—

“shh, no baby, it’s okay.” he goes to remove his hand, your wrist still firmly holding his. “we can stop… we can stop.”

you slowly release your hold on him, watching as suguru cautiously fixes your clothes where he previously displaced them. “i’m sorry,” you murmur, “i’m just stressed and–“

suguru pulls you close, letting your forehead rest in his neck. you immediately wrap your arms around him. he is warmth and security, love and adoration. you know that he knows you aren’t afraid of him, but someone from long ago, a dark stain in your otherwise clear memory.

“hey,” he says, his face breathing in the soft coconut scent of your hair. suguru wonders if you know that everytime you embrace him it feels like the first. “wanna make me one of those famous s’mores?”

“really?” you ask, eyes shiny with unshed tears. when one falls, his thumb lifts up to catch it. to catch you.

“yeah.” he murmurs. “really.”

after a round of sickenly sweet s’mores made by yours truly (with less syrup to show suguru some hint of mercy) and a cuddle by the fire — you decide to turn in for the night — leaving your boyfriend to his own devices as he stares up into the night sky.

you can tell that not a lot of time has passed because the fire pit still emits warmth when you step out of your tent and slip on your flip flops. you lift your arms up into the sky and expose your midriff with a yawn.

one glance around the campsite and you don’t see a familiar head of dark hair anywhere, even squinting into the tree line to see if he’d decided to go off on his own and do god knows what.

you aren’t worried per say, just missing him like any normal girlfriend would be. you wanted to cuddle into his chest and feel his strong arms wrap around you again.

the pier is illuminated by an automatic light that’s yellowed with age. you move a little closer and see a heap of something left on the very edge of it. as you make your way to it, avoiding loose branches and leaves, you realize that it’s a familiar white t-shirt and black sweatpants. it’s only then that you hear the gentle sound of water breaking a few feet away.

suguru rises up with a sigh, back turned towards you. his hands reach up to push back strands of dark hair that you assume were clinging to his face. even under the dim moonlight and turned away from you, he’s alarmingly beautiful.

he wades backwards, letting his body float as he rests on his back. you can see the way his nipples pebble under the chilled night air, the strong muscles in his core keeping him afloat, the outline of his soft cock between his thighs. his hair creates a dark halo as it moves freely around his head. if suguru’s aware of your presence, he doesn’t show it.

you take in a sharp breath at the view in front of you. you’ve seen suguru naked plenty of times before but his stark nakedness still catches you off guard.

you’d only skinny dipped once before, and you immediately left the water once you realized it was freezing. making up your mind before you can back out, you start to remove the layers of clothing on your body. your tank top and shorts, then your panties.

when you ease yourself into the water, you don’t cause much of a ripple. it’s weirdly warm as it encases your body, or it might just be that the air challenges it.

you make your way to suguru and stop once you reach his head. your touch is gentle against his cheeks and your suspicions of him knowing you were there are confirmed when he doesn’t even flinch.

“miss me?” he asks smugly, pools of brown staring up at you. you let your thumbs caress his cheeks, lean down to press your forehead to his.

“hardly.”

suguru moves then, lifting himself up and turning around. even in the semi-shallow waters he towers over you.

his hands find purchasa on your waist and your arms wrap around his neck. he pulls you in close so that your face rests there too. suguru travels down your body to grip your thighs and you instinctively wrap them around his tapered waist.

for a while, you let yourself melt against him, the water gently swaying you both closer to the pier. you think about the way his heart beats against yours, how gentle but secure his grip on your thighs are. geto suguru was everything you wanted in a man; smart, understanding, beautiful, kind. so suffocatingly kind. you imagine a world when his light does not shine as bright and a sour taste enters your mouth.

as if sensing your shift in attitude, suguru turns his head and gently kisses your temple. thin drops of water fall from the tip of his nose and down your cheek. he lifts you up a little to prevent your hair from getting wet. “what’s wrong, baby?”

“nothing,” you breathe, “i’m just… thinking.”

he hums, his hands moving up to cup just underneath your bottom. he angles you back a little to make eye contact. you look up at him with what you imagine are heart eyes and your fingers link at the nape of his neck.

“uh oh.” he briefly teases, “penny for your thoughts?”

you shrug a little. “i just…” you pause, the words bubbling in your throat. you try to push past the anxiety that creeps up in your chest. you’d been dating for a few months now, there was nothing wrong with feeling the way you did. you just— “…don’t want to scare you away.”

he considers this for a moment, and places another kiss on the tip of your nose. “if your coma-inducing syrup s’mores didn’t do the trick then i doubt anything else could.”

“you haven’t had one of my root beer floats yet.”

“ah, is that the killing blow?”

“it’s more a sampler, if you will.”

he smiles and brushes his nose against yours. “then i’m more than happy to die at your hands.”

you giggle, and move one of your hands to rest on his chest. “careful, geto suguru, people might think you love me with those words.”

you regret your own as soon as you say them, your gaze flickering down to the hand still on his chest. you try your best to recover. “n-not that i’m saying that–“

“i love you?” he offers.

god, it sounds worse when he put it out there. “right! i would never just assume–“

“what if i did?”

“what?”

he brings a hand to your chin, making you look into his eyes. there’s an intensity there that you only saw back home, when he’d visit your apartment and spend the night between your legs. he asks again, “love you. what if i did?”

you’re certain he feels the way you shiver against him, breaths just barely fluttering from you lips. you swallow nothing as your mouse dries. “w-well, i–“ you pause, trying your best to not shy away from your own emotions. “i would…” you trail off but you’re unable to spiral fully because he’s right there, like he always is, ready to catch you.

“it’s okay,” he breathes out your name like it’s a prayer, “you can tell me.”

you smile warily. your voice is quiet, barely a whisper and heavy with the tears you feel building behind your eyes. “i’m scared.” not of him, but of the weight behind the three worded confession. he nods, understanding as his hand cups your cheek.

“i know you are, sweet girl. i am, too. but… i know what i feel for you. i know that i love you.”

you can feel his heartbeat quicken under your palm at his admission. you can’t help but feel relieved, your lips just barely an inch away from one another. i love you, you think. i love you, i love you—

“i love you.”

an overwhelming warmth lights up in your chest, your anxiety melting away. your heart pounds and your mind fills with techno-color. it wakes up your nerves in a fizzling, vivid array of sparks.

suguru’s hot, yielding mouth is familiar as it melds to your own, pulling you closer as your hands instinctively tangle in his hair. it’s dried enough that it curves for you easily, your grip firm as you tug at it. he groans and you almost tug harder to hear it again.

you’re only teasing, not trying to start anything particularly heated, but then you shift in his arms and feel the gentle twitch of his hard cock against your mound, breaking away from the kiss when he moans involuntarily. you see the red that trickles up his cheeks.

“shit,” he pants, “fuck, i’m sorry. ‘m a little overwhelmed. we can stop–“

“i don’t want to,” you breathe, “please… don’t let me go.”

you feel him press against you gently, hips moving on their own so that you know he craves you even unconsciously. wanting. “never,” he promises. “i won’t let you go.”

he’s back to kissing you, tongue infiltrating your mouth in a sloppy mess. it’s all tongue and lips but you let him lead you, guide you to where you meet in the middle.

“w-we probably–” your voice catches as his lip attack the base of your throat, “we probably shouldn’t fuck in here.”

you feel your boyfriend’s laugh before you hear it and quicker than you can blink, he’s lifting you out of the water, up the shore of the lake to bypass the pier. you thank whatever deity that your friends are miles away from this place.

when you feel your back laid against a plush sleeping bag, you open your eyes to suguru hovering over you. he drags his hands down the planes of your plush stomach, back up again to the soft mounds of your breasts. you whine at the feeling of him tweaking your sensitive nipples. “you’re perfect, you know that?” he leans down and finishes what he started hours earlier, littering your neck in dark splotches. you pull him closer so that his shaft drags between your folds, collecting your arousal to bump against your clit. it drips between your thighs. “absolutely perfect for me.”

you feel his fingers glide down your stomach once more before reaching your hot entrance, making skilled strokes against your clit that have you spasming underneath him. “fuck.” you whimper, hearing the wet slaps of his fingertips smearing against your cunt. you barely register the way suguru licks a stripe up your neck and wraps his tongue around your ear. how he nibbles at the sensitive lobe.

“you love me, baby?” he breathes, “want me to make you feel good?”

you nod hurriedly, gripping his shoulders. “i need you, sugu, want you to make me cum.”

he moves his fingers faster, knowing just how to rub you to make you fall over the edge. “go ahead and let go, sweet girl. get yourself ready for me.”

it doesn’t take long for you to cum, your hole tightening and clenching around nothing as he helps your ride out the high with a deep kiss. he watches you closely to make sure you don’t crash, pressing kisses to your cheeks and eyelids as you tense up underneath him. “let me know if it’s too much, we can stop if you need me to.”

you shake your head, the euphoria you feel dispelling the shadows that sometimes linger in the back of your mind. “n-no i’m okay… i’m okay now.”

he nods, lining up his hard length to your entrance as you wrap your legs around his waist. suguru pushes into you gently, letting you get used to the stretch. you both moan in unison, his body hot and imposing on top of you as he tries his best to keep his composure. it’s suguru, you remind yourself. you want him. you love him.

you try to relax your muscles like your therapist told you, pulling your boyfriend closer until he is fully sheathed with a guttural moan. “h-holy shit,” he stutters, trying his damndest not to cum on the spot. you bury your hands into the hair that curtains you both.

“make love to me, sugu.” you whisper into the night, your words heard only by your lover and the fireflies. “please.”

“i will, baby.” he pulls you even closer if that’s possible. “i will.”

he thrusts in and out of you at a slow but hard pace, your gasps and whimpers egging him on as he pushes you deeper into the sleeping bag. your cunt sucks him in so eagerly that he can barely see straight, moving to grab your hands from his shoulders to loosely intertwine your fingers. his grip has just enough give that you could remove them if you wanted to. he was always aware of you, of your limits.

“you like it, don’t you?” he teases. “how full of you i get when my cock is buried in this perfect pussy?”

you preen underneath him at the praise, eyes filling with tears. you try to speak but the words are garbled. what sounds like a yes falls from your lips.

“yeah, you do. it’s why you always show me off, bringing me here to meet your friends. you want them to know i’m yours.”

your hips buck up into his and suguru increases his pace, your breasts jiggling with each powerful thrust. he grunts with each tight muscle that clamps down on him as he plows into you — your sweet nectar matting the trimmed hair at his base.

“well i’m yours, baby. have been s-since the first day i met you– oh fuck!”

your hands squeeze his, looking up at him with blurry vision. he is just as beautiful as he has always been, you are weakened by it. you purposefully squeeze down hard on his cock, choked gasp leaving both of your mouths as he finds your g-spot.

“i love you, suguru. i love you.”

he practically pins you under him, arms wrapping your shoulders and back as he nuzzles into the side of your neck. “again,” he begs, “tell me again.”

you let out an almost delirious laugh. “i love you — fuck —! I l-love you.”

you feel a familiar pressure build in your stomach, hands clawing at the soft skin of his back and the muscles beneath it. you don’t have much warning to give, and neither does he, your orgasm coming suddenly as his hips sloppily knock into yours until—

you both let go, hot spurts of his cum coating your walls as he moans and whimpers. suguru takes a deep inhale of your scent, the familiar coconut causing another pump of his release to spill inside you.

“holy shit.” he breathes, lifting himself up to look you in the eyes. he takes in the fucked out expression on your face, the pure euphoria in your features. he leans in to steal your breath away with a kiss, gentle and languid. he whispers your name into your mouth. “I love you,” he parrots, “I’ve always loved you.”

the next morning, when your friends arrive and you get ready for a day of hiking, they don’t fail to notice the way you two are attached at the hip. you’re engay in the conversation, sure, but you’re also laughing to yourselves as if you knew a secret that they didn’t.

you think you’re hiding it well but the discoloration on your neck is a dead giveaway. they aren’t angry, though, never having seen you so happy and in love.

it’s what you deserve and you know better than anyone that suguru is willing to give it all to you. you just hope he continues to hold you gently. that if you break he is willing to pick up the pieces. that your moments of fragility don’t scare him away.

you’re afraid and worried about the future. but suguru tells you that love is an active choice, a choice that led him to you. that love is a beautiful kind of fear and he will take the leap as many times as you need him to.

you don’t have to tell him that you’re already prepared to fall.

note: this is my favorite story i’ve ever written. it’s been very healing for me to revisit it and post it here on this new blog. if it resonates with you in anyway, know that i’m holding your hand and hoping that your road to healing gets easier over time. it isn’t your fault and you’re worthy of love. always and forever.

MISSROKI. all original work. do not plagiarize, translate, or repost. this includes feeding my work to ai apps and sites.

#‧₊˚ 🖇️ ۫ ⭒ — sorin writes.#geto x reader #geto suguru x reader #geto x female reader #geto x black reader #geto smut #geto fluff #suguru x reader #geto x you #geto x y/n #jjk x reader #jjk smut #angelshubnetwork

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heartlilith · 6 months

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The Rising Signs

Aries Rising

❤️Probably has something that makes them stand out whether that be tattoos, scars, or a birth mark

❤️Masculine features - defined jawline, thick eyebrows, muscular body, intense eyes

❤️Always looks like they’re on their way to bitch someone out hahaha

❤️High energy placement - walks quickly and with purpose, hates slow people and slow drivers (probably drives fast too)

❤️Don’t mess with people they care about because they will bitch you tf out on the spot

Taurus Rising

🌿Chill reserved stoner vibes

🌿Not a morning person whatsoever

🌿Likes the finer things in life; you’ll see them in nice clothes and even if their clothes aren’t expensive they look like it because they take care of their stuff

🌿Loves going out to eat

🌿Probably has a mother who cooks some bomb ass food

Gemini Rising

✨Ive noticed a lot of Gemini risings have blonde hair and usually on the taller side

✨Smarter than you or at least they think they are

✨They are smart though and know the most random facts ever … but interesting none the less

✨Loves music and has a diverse taste

✨People like them because they’re easy to talk to and they’re very interesting; they have cool hobbies/skills and they tell funny/memorable stories

Cancer Rising

🦀 Looks like 🌚 and also they really resemble dolls

🦀 Females can act bitchy or defensive when first meeting them because they’re really sensitive but don’t want you to know cause they think it’s a weakness

🦀Same with males but probably worse - feels like they have to take on more Martian traits because they feel like being sensitive is shameful

🦀They have the cheeks that grandmas always pinching

🦀They also have a resting bitch face just like Capricorn rising but unlike their sister sign they wear their emotions, you can always tell if they’re pissed off

Leo Rising

☀️Beautiful hair but we already know that - they also have full lips and literally resemble the sun - happy, good vibes, and just a beam of fucking sunshine

☀️Want to do everything fun they make great friends

☀️High self esteem and even if they don’t, you wouldn’t know because they naturally come off as confident

☀️Kids love them

☀️Very comfortable in their skin especially as they get older

Virgo Rising

🥑 They look really “clean” if you know what I mean - like they always look neat and simple in a good way

🥑Beautiful skin and symmetrical faces

🥑I’ve noticed these people can get along and talk with anyone about anything thanks to their mutable energy

🥑Likes to match everything - clothes and accessories, nails with outfits, etc

🥑Can look younger than they really are

Libra Rising

💕Super sociable, polite, and kind

💕Probably popular in highschool or at least in their friend group

💕Can be fake nice to someone and talk about them behind their backs later

💕Aesthetically pleasing instagram

💕Great at doing makeup

Scorpio Rising

🦂Dark just dark - their eyes look dark even if they’re light colored, dark auras, tattoos, literally looks like a fucking shadow ok

🦂Doesn’t realize they death glare people they hate

🦂I love these people tbh they’re so intriguing and beautiful in a mysterious way

🦂DEFINITELY attracts obsessive people and friends

🦂Probably feels like they’ve been 20 different people in their lifetime - always transforming their image and looks

Sagittarius Rising

🗿Ok legssss 👏 fr tho they have stallion legs

🗿Also likes the finer things in life and will probably get them because they’re lucky in life and blessed

🗿Really funny placement and someone you want to have around all the time to do fun shit with

🗿Carefree for the most part but they have certain triggers that they’ll cause a fit over

🗿Usually hates commitment (depending on other aspects and planets) because they don’t want to be tied down or have a loss of freedom

Capricorn Rising

🪵 Resting bitch face - their face literally screams “please don’t talk to me”

🪵Likes neutral colors for clothes and such

🪵Wise asf and literally downloads information from the gods or maybe they’ve lived 100 lives who knows but they definitely know

🪵Will not be falling for your bullshit or buying any dream you sell

🪵Strives to be self sufficient and independent - oh and also NO SCRUBS (shoutout TLC)

Aquarius Rising

💨Kinda look like aliens but in a hot sexy way

💨Can get along with anyone they talk to like Virgo Rising

💨Rebellious and a trendsetter who can attract a lot of copy cats

💨These people actually knew the song before it was famous

💨Has a lot of friends that are all different personalities - they could have one nerdy smart friend and another friend that’s the captain of the football team (this is cliche but yk what I mean)

Pisces Rising

🐟Looks like a mermaid

🐟Beautiful people and angelic looking but they can’t see that so when people compliment them or stare they don’t really get it

🐟Looks different in every photo they’re in

🐟Another placement that attracts creeps and stalkers

🐟Picks up everyone’s energies around them which is why it’s important for them to be around good people

#rising signs #aries rising #taurus rising #gemini rising #cancer rising #leo rising #virgo rising #libra rising #scorpio rising #Sagittarius rising #Capricorn rising #Aquarius rising #Pisces rising #astrology community #astro observations #astrology #astro

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plutoswritingplanet · 8 months

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Taking What's Not Yours (Dracule Mihawk x Reader)

a/n: soooooo, there is this pirate warlooooord. basically, i've watched the live action show on Netflix and immediately had to commit a one shot.

Warnings: Pure Smut (i had to get it out of my system), Wall Donging, Use of Alcohol, Stealing, Plotting, Lollygagging, inappropriate use of that cunty cross necklace.

Summary: A misguided attempt at impressing your friend lands you in a very peculiar situation. (cross-posted on AO3)

The bar buzzed with the energy of drunken people. Your throat still burned with the after-taste of the cheapest rum the establishment had to offer, and for a second you've become deeply worried about losing your eyesight, as faint notes of straight methanol registers in your brain. Then, the pleasant buzz hits your nerves like a suffocating blanket, and in one moment you sense all your troubles drifting away. And there has been quite a lot of troubles on your mind lately.

Mainly, the Marines, their presence an annoying nuisance. By no means were you a pirate, no. You searched for freedom in different ways, such as stealing as much, and as often as you could. Money was the driving force of your life, but you'd be lying, if you said it was the only pleasure you seek. The thrill of the chase, of finding that perfect little trinket you can grab, and your victim would be non the wiser. The euphoria of creating distractions in one place, so you can strike like a viper in another. It made your blood boil with excitement incomparable to anything else.

On top of that, besides the occasional confrontation, the Marines simply couldn't identify you. All it took, was a bandana around the lower half of your face, and suddenly you were able to march into a bar, such as this, filled with Marines, and no one would notice. Your eyes fall onto a rather skinny one, the belt of his too big uniform is digging into his waist, betraying how little there actually is of him. He looks back at you, smiles, and joins a group of his friends at one of the tables. You reciprocate the smile with a glint in your eye. The poor bastard doesn't know it was you, who stole an antique photo of his grandma right from his breast pocket.

In your defense, the small frame was made of gold. And damned pretty at that. It fetched you a pretty price too, one you were currently drinking away, waiting for your friend to join you in your efforts of landing under the table by the end of the night.

You barely manage to go through one fourth of the bottle, when they arrive, smile on their face and hair wild from running through the streets. It all goes downhill from there, as stories and alcohol flow freely between the two of you. It's a welcomed distraction from the gray reality of life, a small ray of sunshine in this murky town. They tell you about the latest heist they've pulled, eyes sparkling in the dim light, as they recount a particularly risky part of their daring escape. You snort into your glass, shake your head.

- See, that's where we're different. - you counter, leaning back into your chair - For me, it's all about stealth. In and out, so they won't know when they've been robbed.

Your friend giggles to themselves. The drink in their glass splashes slightly, as they place it forcefully on the table.

- You really think you're that good, huh? - they challenge, and already, you can feel the tingling sensation of excitement at the tips of your fingers.

- I know so.

They furrow their brows, turning towards the crowd currently hounding the bartender. There's a mischievous smirk playing around on their lips, as they turn their attention back to you.

- So, if I were to choose any person here, and told you to steal from them unnoticed, you'd do it?

The absolute gall of this question. Of course, you would. Hell, you'd do it multiple times, until this whole bar was filled with people suddenly missing their belongings. Because nothing compared to the thrill of reaching into someone else's pocket unnoticed.

- You know what? - your eyes run across the gathered crowd, smirk playing around on your lips, as you've spotted your chosen victim. - See that guy in the black coat? The one with the big ass hat. I bet I can get that fancy necklace off of him, in like, three minutes tops.

As you speak, your friend follows your gaze through the Marines, and the pirates, and all the in-betweens. But when their eyes finally land on your target, they freeze in their spot, before rather rudely grabbing your shirt at the collar. Then, so fast, the world starts to spin in front of your eyes, they yank you under the table. Your stomach lurches with protest at the sudden movement. You give your friend a confused shake of your head.

- Do you have any idea, who you're talking about? - they whisper-yell, eyes wide and clearly terrified.

- What, about the hat guy?

Apparently you've said it too loud, because your friend nearly launches themselves at you.

- That's Dracule fucking Mihawk.

From the way they've said the man's name, you gather, it should be at least familiar to you. Unfortunately, you can't say you know much of the world outside of the town, so your confused expression deepens.

- He's like, the biggest deal - Your friend continues, their grip on your shirt loosening slightly - Like, children read stories about him and shit.

- I didn't - you shrug, before rising slightly up, so you can peek from above the table.

The hat man has turned his back to you, his stature rather impressing, as he towers over everyone in the establishment. Your eyes follow the dark lapels of his coat, thief senses greedily gliding over the handle of his sword secured to his back. It's reminiscent of a cross, with gigantic, shiny gems nearly tempting you to do something unwise. Your friend tugs you back down, and your chin scratches on the rough surface of the table.

- What is he, like, a missionary? - you ask, fighting the urge to roll your eyes.

- What?

- You know, the cross and all that...

- What kind of missionaries have you been seeing?

Fair point, you think, before risking another peek, against your friend's efforts to pull you down.

The man, Mihawk, takes a long swing from a flagon filled with something you can't really identify. You watch almost greedily, as his Adam's apple moves, when he swallows his drink. Then, your eyes drift to the necklace, nestled on his exposed chest. Gold, real gold, you can see it from here. Another cross, albeit, much simpler, than what he had on his back. A week of drinks, and fancy ones at that flash before your eyes.

- Don't even think about it - your friend warns, finally giving up, and letting go of your shirt.

Your eyes stay fixated on your prize. If you could just see where the clasp of the necklace is...

- Think about what...? - your voice betrays you, and you wet your lips with your tongue in concentration.

- He'll kill you - your friend warns - Like, actually kill you. This is not a man you should fuck with.

At that, you finally tear away, your eyes meeting your friends, a sea of mischief swirling in them.

- Who said anything about fucking? - you say with a wink, and before your friend can say anything else, you rise from your seat.

Taking the half-empty bottle of rum in one, smooth movement, you begin to make your way towards the bar, adding a stumble and a drunken giggle for good measure. The previous ungodly ammounts of liquor circulating your body definitely help with the impression, but you're pleasantly surprised, that your head stays relatively clear. Although, if your target is truly as powerful and dangerous, as your friend makes him out to be, then perhaps you really lost your mind for good. Best not to dwell on it though.

The man barely spares you a glance, as you collide with the bar right next to him, arm brushing against his in a deliberate movement. You make sure to press your chest against the countertop, before waving at the bartender a bit too enthusiastically. The leftover liquor in your bottle sloshes out, landing straight onto the man's chest and lap. At that, he finally moves, annoyance clear in his rigid posture. Traces of liquid fall all the way from his collarbones to the belt buckle of his trousers.

The truly magnificent performance of a drunken, apologetic girl you gave at that moment, would ensure you the entry to the most prestigious acting schools. Your eyes widen comically, as you follow the trajectory of your drink. He barely flinches, as his entire front becomes covered in alcohol, but he does react, as soon as you start apologizing, a lot, your voice quivering as if you're about to burst out crying.

Don't look up, you remind yourself, as your body moves closer to his. You pull down the sleeve of your shirt and reach towards him, trying to dry some of the liquor off his skin. For the split second you manage to make contact, your heart nearly jumps out of your chest. He's incredibly warm, his skin pulled taut against prominent muscles. Then, your sleeve reaches the golden necklace.

His arm immediately shoots out, grabbing you by the wrist and nearly shoving you off. It was enough, though. That short moment of contact revealed more than you've bargained for.

- Leave - you truly flinch at the sound of his gravely voice, no acting needed - You've embarrassed yourself quite enough, woman.

Your head nods fervently, hair jumping around your face. He releases your wrist, and you mutter another string of "I'm so sorry, sir". Then, you throw in a sniffle, for good measure, but your treacherous eyes drift upwards, desperate to catch a glimpse of the man's face, as you're only inches from him. Yellow envelops you in an instant, a piercing, unrelenting gaze, which breaks through all your defenses. Your gaze hardens in an instant, challenge rising in your posture like its second nature. One of the man's prominent eyebrows shoot upwards ever so slightly, and you know it's your time to exit the stage.

So you bow your head again and slip past him as quickly, as you physically can. His golden gaze follows you, the feeling of his eyes at the back of your neck makes your shoulders tense. With a stumble, this one not rehearsed, you push past the gathered patrons, until you reach the doors to the restrooms, nearly falling through them, in your haste to remove yourself from this strange situation.

Your body collides with the row of basins, as you lean forward to try and catch your breath. Your heart is thrumming in your chest, the sound of blood rushing through your ears deafening. It's fear, you're aware. You've never been so close to being exposed, no one has ever seen straight through you, and so quickly at that. Chills run the length of your spine with such force you physically cringe.

And then, something else starts to brew in the pit of your stomach. Something that starts at the tips of your fingers, spreading upwards, until it settles in your chest. The magnetic pull of excitement, the danger of a new challenge. Your brain feels hot inside your skull, as you gather all the information you managed to pull out.

The necklace is heavy, but strangely, not as heavy, as solid gold would be. The clasp is sturdy, but small. You could feel it, with how the strap tightened, when you pulled at it. And one more thing. As you tried to "dry" it, the body of the necklace shifted slightly, so you could see the clasp peeking over the man's shoulder. You were almost entirely sure it was one of those old-timey ones. The one, where two halves fit together, incredibly easy to open.

God, you really are going to pull this off. You hype yourself up, in front of the mirror, jumping from leg to leg, like a sportsman ready to fight for their team. Easy. Quiet. In and out. You've done it a thousand times, why would this one be different? After this rather pathetic pep talk, you make up your mind. Splashing some water onto your face, you give yourself one last look in the mirror, determination filling your eyes to the brim.

And then, you're out, the door to the bathroom swings behind you, as you easily blend into the crowd of rowdy patrons. He's almost impossible to miss amongst the ruckus, with his straight posture and that damned hat. There is a plan forming in your head, as you stalk towards him. The unfortunate waiter, with a tray filled with tall beer glasses walks towards you, and with ease, you slide your leg to the side, making him trip right onto the floor.

It creates enough of a distraction for you to smoothly move behind your target, and as he looks over at the screaming crowd, you hand makes its way behind the collar of his coat. With the warmth of his skin just under your fingertips, you touch the clasp of the necklace. It unravels immediately, sliding off of his neck, where, just out of his vision, your other hand waits. The cross lands in your palm just as the man realizes what is happening.

His entire body jerks in your direction, large hands immediately flying towards the gigantic sword on his back. Thankfully, you're faster. Fingers squeeze around the smaller cross, and suddenly all pretense is gone, as you bolt back to the restrooms. You don't stop to check if the man is pursuing you, a flurry of emotions chasing you out of the establishment. Excitement, yes, of course, but mostly impossible to explain fear. In that moment you know, you can't get caught if you want your life to continue.

So, you barrel through the doors to the restroom and immediately jump onto one of the basins. Your hands make quick work opening the small window just below the ceiling, its lock coming undone under the prying of your lockpick. Night air floods the bathroom with the crisp smell of the harbour. Putting all your concentration into athletics, you jump through the small opening, squeezing through. Your shirt catches onto the lock and tears with the force of your body. You land on your face, right into the cobbled street below. Only then do you risk taking the time, and looking around, eyes scanning the dark, as your breath quickens.

Nothing. A dog is barking somewhere, and even from the outside you can hear the sounds of the patrons screaming over each other. For a split second you wonder, if one of the voices belongs to your target, but decide against it. He didn't seem the type to raise his voice. Perhaps that was one of the things, which unsettled you about him.

Tossing the necklace a couple of times in your hand, you observe as the gold shines in the light coming from the lanterns strung out around the city. There, right under the lower half of the cross, you could see a tiny groove. As if it was meant to be unscrewed or something of the sort. Deciding against hanging around in the ark alley right outside the bar, you put the necklace around your neck.

You manage to take about five steps, before some force grabs onto the back of your shirt. A hand twists itself into the torn material, and yanks you back so fast, and so hard, you completely loose balance. The brick wall of the lower part of the bar greets you with sharp pain, the impact knocking the wind out of your lungs. Stars swim in front of your eyes and your stomach twists and turns, as a sudden wave of nausea overcomes you.

Then, all you see is yellow.

He's here, arm pressed right under your chin with unwavering strength, his golden eyes bearing into you, watching you struggle against him. The smell of smoke, seawater and wine engulfs you whole, and suddenly the weight of the stolen necklace on your chest becomes unbearable. It's getting harder and harder to breathe. If you thought you were scared of the strange man before, now you're downright terrified.

- Not many people would dare to steal from me - his voice is steady, almost bored, but your ears pick up on the subtle tone of curiosity - Let alone do so successfully.

Perhaps it's the alcohol in your system, or perhaps your ego has grown much too big, but you almost feel as if the man is impressed.

- Tell me, what is your name? - his arm digs a bit further into your skin before retracting ever so slightly, not enough to choke you, but enough to remind you, that he could do so very easily.

Your tongue darts out to wet you lips, and you will yourself to sound even a fraction less scared than you truly felt.

- I'm nobody - you whisper fervently - I'm nothing. It was a stupid joke, I'm so sorry.

His eyes scan your face, taking in your disheveled hair, the way your eyebrows scrunch together, the way your lips tremble. His gaze slides further down to your panicked pulse running rampant, catching slightly at your heaving chest, before snapping back up. Freezing chills run up and down your body, and your legs kick out slightly, trying to find better footing, to regain some control over the situation. He gives you no such chance, as his arm pushes your neck further into the wall, and as your breath leaves you, your body starts to struggle.

- Nobody. Nothing. And yet you've managed to steal from me - something akin to subdued mirth flashes in his golden irises - If only for a moment.

His other hand rises and your heart stops in your chest, as you feel the tips of his fingers tracing the line of the necklace, from the juncture between your neck and your arm, sliding lower. There is no mistaking the small gasp leaving your lips, when he reaches the heavy cross nestled right on top of your breasts. He taps the goden piece once, twice, before grasping it firmly and giving it a hard yank. The clasp at the back digs painfully into your skin before it gives out, snapping and falling right into his hand.

- You're a curious little thief - his voice lowers, as he inclines his head to look at you closer - For that reason, I'll let you live, this one time. The world needs some chaos, after all.

You expect him to move away, give you space to breathe and disapear into the night. Yet, none of you make a move. Your body stays pinned to the wall, the bricks spreading cold throughout your back. He never retreats, standing firmly in his place, as his arm still presses itself into the crook of your neck. Finally, you risk enough to get a good look at him, from the silky black hair, the perfectly trimmed facial hair and the elegant dip of his collar bones. And, oh, his pupils are dilated. For the first time, you discover a change in his unrelenting gaze.

The gold retracts, giving way to the swallowing blackness of his pupil, as his eyebrows furrow in confusion at the situation at hand. You'd be confused too, if you didn't feel the tell-tale buzzing forming in your guts, low in your stomach. Your tongue darts out again, wetting your lips, and with undeniable satisfaction you watch his gaze flicker downwards.

- Is there something else you want? - his eyes snap back up at the husky tone of your voice, and you give him just a tiny ghost of a smirk.

He recoils immediately, albeit, never taking the arm off of your body.

- I am not some teenage boy who can't control his urges - he sounds almost offended, as he straightens himself, and fixes you with a stern glare.

Too bad. His previous slip-up has already filled your head with devious ideas, which in turn, sparked a sudden flame of confidence. So, with a self-assured smile, you lean back, finally finding your footing, only to raise one of your legs, purposefully running your calf the length of his thigh. His breath hitches ever so slightly, evident more by the movement of his Adam's apple, than any sound. Then, you reach your prize, your knee knocking into something that could only be described as a sizeable erection.

- My research says otherwise, sir. - you counter with a pointed look, and the man before you freezes in his spot.

Time seems to slow down and stretch like taffy, as the man continues to stare at you, thoughts running through his head. Oh, how much you'd give to know them all. Will he kill you, you wonder as your eyes dart around the small creases forming on his forehead. Will he kiss you, his lips are parted and invitingly plush. Will there be more, your eyes follow the lines of muscles exposed under his unbuttoned coat.

At first you don't even notice, when he had taken his arm back. That is until you feel him take a firm grab of the back of your head, gathering the roots of your hair in his grasp. There is no denying the choked whine that escapes you, as he cranes your head back, nor is there a point denying the groan he gives out at your reaction.

An unspoken understanding blooms between the two of you, both of you suddenly knowing exactly how this encounter will end. For your part, you were more than excited, breathing heavily, as your mind became foggy from the feeling of his fingers in your hair. And if his darkened eyes and slight blush dusting the highest points of his cheekbones were any indication, you seemed to have similar effect on the man.

- For all the research you seem to be doing - your brain feels hot and heavy in your skull, as you try to shift your focus onto his words, and not the way his lips curled into something akin of a smirk - There's one thing you didn't bother to check, did you?

All you can do is stare at him blankly. his other hand starts to toy with the necklace, turning it in his palm.

- Have you checked, if my necklace is made of gold? - he asks matter-of-factly, tilting his head to the side.

Your mouth opens and closes, no words coming out, as you continue to stare with growing confusion. Then, a glint of a golden cross catches your attention, as the man moves it higher for you to see.

- Did you check it? - he accentuates his words, and you shiver under his intense gaze.

You shake your head no, and your neck feels as if it's made of lead.

- Use your words, thief.

- No

You don't recognize your voice, so meek and small.

Then, all thoughts leave your head, because he lifts the lover tip of the cross and places it on top of your lower lip, pressing slightly, and watching with fascination as the cold metal creates a small indent in the plush flesh.

- Check it.

Again, your brain seems to be moving in slow motion, but when it catches on, a glint of mischief swirls in your eyes. You open your mouth, let the necklace land on your lower teeth, and then, craning your neck, you bite down, like a good thief that you are.

It's gold alright. Albeit, the part currently between your teeth seems to be hollowed out. Your brows knit for a second, as this new information registers in your mind. So you were right before, the small indent is meant to separate one piece of the necklace from the other.

With a slowly blooming smirk, you let your tongue dart out swirling over the metal. The man's eyes widen ever so slightly, and he pulls back at the necklace. With some fight, you let it go, but not before giving it another lick, this one much more suggestive and pointed.

- You're a devil of a woman - Mihawk breathes, before untangling his other hand from your hair.

Both hands now, he grips the necklace, and your mouth runs dry at the sight of his fingers smearing your saliva onto the metal. And then he pulls. Your heartbeat momentarily quickens, as your eyes register another form of metal glistening in the dim light.

A knife. Small but incredibly sharp, your body starts to shiver but it's not out of fear. He drops the other part of the necklace into his pocket, and gathers the front of your shirt into a tight grip. Your breath hitches, as you feel the tip of the knife slide up under your clothes. It scratches a path from your navel, up to your collarbones, and as the material bunches, the man suddenly yanks the blade upwards. Your entire body jumps from the wall, and your squeak of surprise is accompanied by the loud tearing of your shirt's material.

You fall back against the bricks, and Mihawk leans onto his heels as if he's appreciating an art piece.

- Now we match - you manage to breathe out.

He humms, deep in his chest, and as suddenly as he just tore your clothes off, he dives towards you, open mouth landing right between your breasts.

The moan he wretches from you would be embarrassing if you could only bring yourself to care. But you can't, not when his hot tongue traces patterns all across your stomach, stopping to swirl around each one of your nipples. Like a man starved, he drinks you in, hands pushing and pulling against your hips in a rythmn, that feels more and more like a promise of what's to come.

Your hands flail at your sides, desperate to find any sort of purchase. Fingernails scarpe against the bricked wall, as Mihawk's stubble tickles a path from your collar bones and up your throat, stopping for a moment, to give a few nips to the skin just below your ear. Another whine is wrenched from you, as the man places an open mouthed kiss to the scrape your previous encounter with the surface of the table has left on your skin. Then, finally, he pulls back for just a moment, drinking in the sight of your heaving chest and the redness which has engulfed your entire face.

- Beautiful - he concludes in the same, steady tone, as if he's stating an obvious fact, not paying a compliment.

It works on you all the same, and with a gasp, you lurch forward, your lips forcefully colliding with his. The kiss is deep and filled with passion you're not sure you've ever felt in your entire life. As his mouth and tongue work the insides of yours, you feel him slide his hand from your hips to the front, fingers pulling with urgency at the laces of your breeches. You can only pray, that there's no one taking a midnight stroll through the streets, as another loud moan escapes you. He does his best to swallow it, but something tells you he takes immense pride in the reactions you give him, as his efforts at keeping you quiet are haphazard at best.

Then, after finally winning the battle with your lacing, his hand pushes itself into your undergarments. Your head smacks back against the wall, when he begins to touch you where you need him the most. Expert fingers find your bundle of nerves in an instant, but before you get too carried away, one of your arms encircles his wrist.

Mihawk tilts his head, an unspoken question clear in his golden gaze.

- No time - you pant out, and for a moment worry, he doesn't quite register your words, with the way his focus shifts immediately to your swollen lips - No time, just... Just fuck me, Mihawk.

That seems to reach him just fine, because as soon as the words leave you, his arms shoot out towards his pants. He makes quick work of the massive belt buckle, and with impatient hands yanks his erection out of his underwear. You'd lie, if you said the view didn't worry you just a little bit. But excitement was your drug of choice, and right now you felt as if you could explode at any given moment. With shaky hands, you try to shimmy out of your pants. Seeing your rather clumsy efforts, Mihawk stops you.

With half-lidded eyes you watch him kneel down in front of you, gently pulling your breeches down, before lifting each of your feet, so you could step out of them.

- I think I like seeing you like this - you comment, as he leans forward to kiss the space under your right knee.

- The view from here is also quite spectacular - he counters, kissing up your thigh and making you gasp, as his stubble presses into the mound of flesh just below your stomach.

Still, there is no time, so you reach down towards his shoulder, and pull him up.

- Please - you whisper against his lips, and who is he, to deny a lady in need.

Lifting one of your legs in a tight grip, finally, his hips snap up, filling you to the brim. Your muscles tense, as you try to accommodate his size. To his credit, he stays still, face pressed into the crook of your neck, where you can feel his strained breath. Finally, you let yourself relax. tapping him on the shoulder, to let him know he can continue.

And continue he does, slowly at first, dragging your body from the wall every time he retracts, only to come back in with an agonizing pace. You don't really know who's more frustrated at that point, because as soon, as you try to wriggle your hips more, to force him to pick up the pace, all resolve seems to dissapear. His hand grips your thigh even harder, enough to leave a reminder for the later days. The other tangles itself into your hair, pulling at the strands. And then he truly puts in work, hips snapping in a punishing pace that makes your back scrape against the brick wall. You hide your face in his coat, inhaling his scent and praying that the thick material will be sufficient at muffling your moans of pleasure.

There's pressure, building steadily in your guts, and it doesn't take you long, to feel the band snap somewhere deep inside you. Your muscles tense and your eyes roll back, as you begin to shudder in his grasp, knees giving out completely, so only his own strength is saving you from colliding with the floor. Soon, he follows with a low grunt, nearly toppling over, when his own release hits him.

His arm holds you close to him, as he uses the other one to steady himself against the wall. Both of you are panting heavily, none of you ready to move just yet. You rest your cheek against his chest, and feel him press his face to the top of your head, inhaling your scent as if this wasn't just a quick dalliance in a dark alley.

- You should get back to your friend - Mihawk's voice is muffled by your hair - They must be dreading all the atrocities I could've bestowed upon you.

You laugh breathlessly, finally pushing him back and appreciating the flush on his cheeks, and the way his hair has flown out of place from under that impressive hat.

- Yes, those atrocities have been very great indeed.

***

Your friend sits alone at the same table you've left them. Their head is hidden in their hands, and three empty bottles litter the space before them. It seems they have already started to mourn your untimely death.

The inside of the bar has quieted down, as the closing hours began to loom over the patrons, a few stragglers still hanging around the bar, sowly finishing their respective drinks.

Unceremoniously, you sit down right in front of your friend, wincing ever so slightly at the discomfort still lingering in your muscles, kicking their leg under the table and watching them nearly jump out of their seat with fright.

- You... - their eyes have a difficulty focusing on your face, but when they do, it's like the heavens have opened before them. - You're alive!

Your eyes are glowing, and your face is still blushed from your previous encounter. You lean forward with a brilliant smile, hands slapping onto the wooden table.

- So - you can't help but laugh - About fucking with him...

#dracule mihawk #dracule mihawk x reader #one piece x reader #mihawk x reader #my writing #one piece live action #stuck between a wall and a hard pirate helloooo

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rageserenity · 1 month

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It's 2024. Are you still thinking about movieverse!Cherik? Because I am.

For the past several months, there's only been a very slow trickle of posts/fics in the xmcu cherik tag. Let's try to breathe some life back into this incredible pairing!

With one clear winner of my poll, here's thirty prompts for the thirty days of April. (This is a super chill, laid-back event---do these in any order, interpret them as loosely as you like! Create in any medium! Fic, art, gifs, meta, incoherent screaming about the otp…all winners in my book.)

The only rule here is to cherik too close to the sun. Alright. Here are the prompts.

Mutual Pining

Doesn't really even need elaboration! Write that horrifically slow slow-burn. Gif every time McAvoy made insane fuck me eyes on screen. Make a playlist of songs about impossible love.

2. Alternate Meetings

There are endless quotes about how these two complete each other in a way no one they'd met before or after ever did. How else could they have met?

3. Erik Has A Telepathy Kink

This is basically canon. Let my boy get freaky!

4. Canon Fix-It

All the times Fox fucked it up. There are endless options.

5. Hurt/Comfort

Put them in that Situation. Put them in that Blender. Break them apart and put them back together ❤️‍🩹

6. Canon Compliant

Draw that missing scene! Gif your favourite cherik moment!

7. Beach Divorce

Make it worse. Make it better. Show it to us exactly how it was. Break it down in a 3,000 word meta. Go wild!

8. Domestics

Sometimes you just want to see them doing normal couple things. Erik put the gun down.

9. Found Family

The real heart of x-men!

10. Time Travel

There are SO many possibilities here. Stick them in a time loop. Give them a chance to change their past.

11. AU

Love a good AU!

12. There Is Only One Bed

Had to get this one in here. What better way to amp up the tension?

13. Genosha

By some miracle, cherik actually did end up together at the end of 2019s trash bag disaster Dark Phoenix. We aren’t making a big enough deal about this.

14. Declaration(s) of Love

Who says it first? How do they say it and when? Have they said it…without saying it?

15. Jealousy

Need I say more.

16. Reunion

These two have absolutely no chill.

17. Soulmates

Classic prompt, had to get this in here too.

18. The DOFP Aircraft

The TENSION here. Break it down for me. How does Charles feel about his injury? How does Erik feel about his injury?

19. Gay Mutant Road Trip

You already know.

20. Body Swap

SO fun when people have superpowers.

21. First Kiss

When? How? Who initiated it?

22. The Mansion

Mansion!content is a genre of its own.

23. Conflicting Ideology

Give me your theses. Who’s right? Can they ever reconcile completely? Write a fic where it drives them apart.

24. Sebastian Shaw

A trope unto himself.

25. Team As Matchmaker

They had to have known something was going on, didn’t they?

26. Cooking

Charles deserves a good meal. Also, imagine Erik using his powers in the kitchen. The sheer domesticity…

27. Hurt No Comfort

Plenty of scope with these two 🥲

28. Growing Old Together

Giving Sirs Ian Mckellan and Patrick Stewart their props as well!

29. Making Up

*pushes chess board across the table* sorry babe

30. Charles Xavier Did More For Mutants Than You'll Ever Know

Rising to each other’s defense. Only I can insult this man.

I will be tracking #revivecherik to reblog stuff! Here’s a fic collection for the same. Let’s get this ball rolling! Please feel free to send me an ask if you’ve got anything to say! And most importantly, let’s all have fun 😁

*I know a few of you preferred something like a gift exchange because of the commitment factor—I’m super down to organise a tiny one for the handful of us! If this promptathon doesn’t flop horribly, we can hopefully do a whole bunch of stuff :)

If you read this post all the way through, please reblog for reach! Thank you! Hoping you participate come April.

Shoutout to @inmymagnetoera for reaching out and helping with this!

#revivecherik #cherik #charles xavier #erik lehnsherr #xmfc #james mcavoy #michael fassbender #x men days of future past #x men #charles x erik #magneto #professor x

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oncomingnight · 3 months

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ྀི ⊹ ╰₊✧ ﾟ .𝒀𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒆! 𝑹𝒐𝒄𝒌𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓 𝒃𝒐𝒚𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅 𝒙 𝑭𝒆𝒎 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓ྀི ⊹

-♡⁠˖ 𝑯𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒐 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚𝒐𝒏𝒆, 𝑰'𝒎 𝒆𝒄𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒄 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒆 𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝑰'𝒎 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌 𝒕𝒐 𝒘𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈. 𝑰𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒒𝒖𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒅𝒊𝒇𝒇𝒊𝒄𝒖𝒍𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝒎𝒐𝒕𝒊𝒗𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒒𝒖𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒂𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒍𝒆 𝒖𝒑 𝒖𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒍 𝒚𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒅𝒂𝒚 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝑰 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂 𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒓𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒎𝒚 𝒄𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒆 𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅. 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝟏𝟗𝟗𝟔 𝑺𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒎 𝒎𝒐𝒗𝒊𝒆 𝒄𝒂𝒎𝒆 𝒐𝒏 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒎𝒚 𝒐𝒃𝒔𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒇𝒊𝒍𝒎 𝒄𝒂𝒎𝒆 𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌 𝒓𝒖𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉 𝒎𝒆, 𝑰'𝒗𝒆 𝒂𝒍𝒔𝒐 𝒃𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒘𝒂𝒕𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒖𝒔𝒊𝒄 𝒗𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒐𝒔 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝟖𝟎'𝒔 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒄𝒉 𝒉𝒂𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒍𝒑𝒆𝒅 𝒎𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒘𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒄𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒓𝒚 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒑𝒊𝒆𝒄𝒆. 𝑰 𝒉𝒐𝒑𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒆𝒏𝒋𝒐𝒚 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒂𝒏 𝒂𝒎𝒂𝒛𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒅𝒂𝒚 & 𝒏𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕.

Ezra was the guitarist of the well known five-man group, 'Corrupted Minds'. He co-founded the band during the early 1980's alongside his good friend, their creativity resulting in the group growing to five and gaining a prominent title in the rock scene. Not only that, some notoriety also bubbled up due to several instances regarding band mates brawling with hecklers or other members of popular rock/alternative groups.

Ezra could be some as an intimidating man of some sorts, but that assumption was only built upon his darkly framed appearance, never the actions he went through with, whether they were committed in public or private. He was known as the calmer one of the bunch, despite the lewd, sometimes even frightening tattoos that adorned his body and the quite obvious fact that he had his fair share of lace and leather decorated groupies.

Expanding on his charming behavior, he's extremely keen on keeping up with you. In other words, he's incredibly attentive towards your likes, dislikes, wants and needs. Even during your first meeting, it was severely apparent that he was it for you, he seemed to understand you as astronomers do the sky. He can't remember any other time where he's felt as protective over anything as he is over you, the mere thought of anyone disturbing your peace drives him up the wall.

Back on the topic of the band gaining some notoriety owed to many fights that the group had involvement in, most of the brawls were in your defense. There were a handful of low quality videos that circulated during the early 80's showing Ezra ferociously pounding his fists against whoever offended you at the time. Any articles depicting the horrific injuries the person suffered, their dozens of stitches or police reports are immediately wiped off by the band's management.

He's quite shameless when it comes to his tactics he uses when proving not only his love but devotion towards you. In his opinion, there's nothing to apologize or feel sympathy for when he hasn't done anything wrong. Anyone that says they wouldn't commit 'crimes' or step outside of their moral beliefs for their lover are either lying or are complete cowards.

His words not mine.

You're constantly by his side which in turn results in you spending quite a large amount of time with the rest of the band as well. He's extremely fond of having you around the studio or venue while they're either recording or rehearsing, especially if you give him a congratulatory kiss after he finishes a show.

Ezra strongly believes that you saved him from the haunting thoughts that clouded his mind as well as his unfaltering addictions to several substances. Your boisterous laugh, the unwavering gleam you have in your eye while looking up at him, the way you tightly hold onto him (even in your sleep), how proud you seem to be after he does something he's never been praised for.

No one has loved him the way you do.

"you know, you're my reason for changing, I'm not like who I used to be." He's no longer self destructive, he no longer believes he deserves ever demeaning glare or degrading term thrown at him for a simple mistake he's made. You make him feel normal, which he's never felt for most of his life. Not only that, but you make him feel as though he's truly worth loving, sure, he's had girls tell him how amazing he is in the past but it meant nothing coming from them. After all, they were only a fleeting moment, they weren't here to stay as long as it was up to him.

Despite how emotional he can be, he isn't always like that. He's an extremely confident man that smirks in acknowledgment of his reputation when the time calls for it.

He is very soft spoken even when saying something with an aggressive tone. Nothing could ever make him raise his voice at you, the only time he comes close to it is when you were in a dangerous situation. Though he raises his voice, it's never directed at you and he always expresses his anger in mutters. There are several instances where he has gotten into a bar fight because someone mentioned you during an argument just to set him off. Ezra isn't afraid to use anything near him as a weapon in a blind rage, whether it be shot glasses, whiskey bottles, his boot against their face, his fists, his fingers reaching to gouge their eyes out.

anything.

"stupid son of a bitch, thinkin' he can just throw that bottle over here...almost hittin' you."

He believes that you deserve only the best in absolutely every sense. Ezra is the type of boyfriend soon to be husband to spoil you every single day. Whether it be with gifts, dinner or trips, it really doesn't matter, he'll give you anything you ask for. Though, he knows you're far too cautious and shy to outright ask him, he purchases everything he knows you'll take an extreme liking to without you having to say anything.

Ezra is really touchy when it comes to you and he doesn't feel the slightest bit of shame over that. His silver ring covered hands circle around your waist whenever you're sitting on his lap, spooning with him or if he's just hugging you from behind as you cook a meal for the both of you.

On the topic of cooking, one of his favorite places is in the kitchen, it's basically in his top three.

1. By your side

2. On stage

3. In your shared kitchen

He absolutely adores watching your face with intense intent as you take a bite out of the pesto pasta he made with ingredients from your shared garden.

His band members quite obviously noticed how much of a good change you were for Ezra's character, he seemed to be much more open to talking in interviews than he was before, he's smoking a lot less, he doesn't even touch alcohol anymore, if anything, he's disgusted by it. He wants to be better for you. Another example is that you guys have a garden together for fuck's sake, who would've thought THE Ezra Taylor would be tending to a garden while also being tied down to the love of his life. Though, they're not complaining, as a matter of fact, they're glad to see him so radiant. They also frequent your house to taste test Ezra's newest recipes, they mainly want to eat the cooking you whip up when they come over, they swear you make the best dessert.

Ezra is an extreme fanatic of anything involving horror to the point where he collects horror game instruction manuals, graphic manga, dvds and photograph/art books created by his favorite horror writers and directors.

He always talks about you during podcasts he's featured on or interviews involving other members of the band. They'll often jump in on what he's saying about you, often adding in, "He's absolutely whipped, man. He doesn't even hide it!" "I've never seen him like this before, you know? It's nice, though." "Y/n is a nice fit for him, she's a sweetheart and she's always here to support him." He gets extremely happy when he's able to converse to whoever will listen on the topic of you, "yeah, i just really love her, man. She showed me just how great I can really be and i try to show her just how much i truly love her every second of every day. She deserves it."

#yandere oc x you #yandere oc #yandere oneshot #yandere oc x y/n #yandere headcanons #obsessive love #yandere #yandere x you #yandere oc x reader #obsessive yandere #yandere male #male yandere #male yandere x reader #male oc x y/n #oc x reader #oc x you

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kalims · 6 months

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Hellooo I really like your writing :) May I request taking Malleus/Leona's favorite food from the fridge and leaving $2.18 in place of it?? How would they react when they find out their fav is missing?? Thank you so much !

ㅤas a form of payment

note. ty 🥲 I really appreciate since I basically disappeared for months LOL

in your defense, there's barely anything to snack on inside your dorm—unless you somehow enjoyed the myriad of canned cat food for grim (which you've been spending a lot on compared to your actual food..) and if there were anything to eat at all, you'd reckon the feline would've already gotten his hands on it and kept it to himself.

when you're already on a strict budget plan with the madol crowley 'graciously' provides you, barely enough to scrape by. you'd argue; but with the squawks of the blabbering he has, it's like arguing a wall.

thankfully lilia doesn't even seem to mind when you raid their fridge everytime you sleep over.

the dorm was really nice. nicer than your own, besides the fact sebek practically guards the front door with his life and demanding a formal invite from you the moment your knuckles resound against the door. though ramshackle, and diasomnia held similar vibes. the former looked younger than the latter but definitely in less good shape.

it was too enticing.. you shouldn't overstep as a guest.

but... "it's mocking me," you say to no one but yourself in particular. seated on a stool you found on the kitchen, in front of a counter and in the sights of the fridge. the green eccentrics of material drives your eyes to narrow further, a long, wistful sigh emitted from your lips as your folded hands rest beneath your chin.

not only that but it served like a warning to you, the color reminded you of sebek and his yelling habits. it would be a shame if you were discovered shredding their fridge with your gaze with the screech you'd imagine he'd make.

then something along the lines of; 'what are you planning, human?!'

surprisingly the dorm was eerily quiet during the night. they follow a strict protocol which only serves as fuel for your fire. you grumble. "I'm just a guest," you remind yourself. maybe to steel your morals but your resolve proves to reign when you quietly slip off the stool and open the freezer, eyes skimming through the frozen goods—a bar of chocolate, a frozen... eye...? whatever demon hotdogs were and—finally something normal.

you groan to yourself, feeling around your back pocket before peeling out a couple of coins that would be the equivalent of a dollar or two in your world. (also the last of your riches but atleast you partially paid?)

you look back, nervously looking around like a criminal before hauling the tub of ice cream in your arms. the rumble of your abdomen reminds you of why exactly you're even here committing a crime (or atleast it feels like you are...) you quickly grab a spoon, and tail it to the.. random ominous door you've never been to in your life.

malleus has this strange feeling.

he sums it up to hunger so he ventures down the familiar stairs of his dorm, through the living room, and to the place that will supposedly solve all of his problems. the churn in his gut grows stronger when he steps foot in the kitchen, blinking slowly when he cranes his head and finds the light illuminating and bright. when it shouldn't be.

it must be a resident that forgot. he shrugs it off, trudging over. picking up the smell of something familiar that brings warmth to his chest so his lips twitch into a pleasant smile. he must be going crazy, even now you're on his mind? "hmm," he mumbles, having opened the freezer and not spotting the familiar tub he's put earlier this morning.

sebek did say what it looked like, but none of these are even the delicacy he desires. he thinks, placing down a small cup of yogurt that could only belong to his father. maybe he put it in the refrigerator?

he sighs sharply through his nose and grumbles (coincidentally the same time a lightning strikes.) shutting the door to the refrigerator after finding nothing but a few eggs, chips from random residents, and more random thing that hss no correlation to what he wants. even if sebek did put it down there then what's the point in eating if it's not frozen?

malleus turns, about to sulk back to his room when he catches sight of a sticky notes and.. some madol?

'hi, this is for whoever ice cream that was T-T'

he crumples the paper in his grasp, wanting to seem understanding but the flash of lightning once again serves as a remainder of his growing irritation. a brightening of his eyes comes as quick as the tracking spell he casts quickly. eyes following a trail to the.. inconspicuous closet.

"oh, hi." the sudden light flooding in as you crouch on the floor, tub of desert between your crossed legs brings a hand over your eyes. unknown legs stand in front of the.. whatever room this is, but a closet seems more fitting so you'd call it that.

"child of man?" an incredulous voice echoes above you. the familiar sound illicits you to remove the hand blocking your sight, you wouldn't want to not look at malleus. you blink, fingers grasping the spoon laid forgotten inside the tub as you stare up at him and offer a nervous smile.

you wave with your free hand. "I got hungry?" you justify but that's only when he looks down at what you're glomping on and blinks, the random thunderstorm that started out of nowhere seems to pause for a few seconds before he breaks into a light chuckle and shakes his head. crouching down in front of you.

he presents you a small smirk. "I believe what you're eating is mine," he chides gently, devoid of any ill intent and previous irritation evaporating into nothingness when he finds you as the source of his troubles just a second ago. you open your mouth to reply, probably looking like an idiot with your mouth hung open, frozen when he just casually swipes a thumb on the corner of your mouth. wiping off an excess of ice cream that you didn't notice.

the notion might as well just given you a heart attack with the skip of a beat it did. it's almost as if malleus knows what's he's doing with the awfully appealing smirk on his face, still so gentle but you'd know better that he's doing it out of goodwill and natural caring nature for you. just the thought that he actually is so perfect warms your face.

you open your mouth—furrow your brows, close, and open. "I.. um... I'm sorry I know the money wasn't enough but I was really hungry, I'll get you a new one," a sincere apology, if you'd known it was his you would've never taken it in the first place. with the kindness he's extended you for so many times, you'd hate to see a frown on his face.

he huffs through his nose, a patient look of understanding on his face. "what's mine is all yours," he gestures to the tub between your legs, a reassuring hand on shoulder as he rubs his thumb around. he's close enough for you to see the light in his eyes, the green, and your reflection in the iris. you stare, a little dazed and mesmerized and he stares back.

"something as material as that doesn't matter compared to you," he adds.

oh my god. you gape. suddenly you're not so regretful of committing this crime.

his eyes drift up for a moment, pondering. standing back up to his full height and offering you a hand. "if you really want to make it up to me then why don't we eat it together?"

when you grasp his hand, his fingers enclose around yours. pulling you up with utmost caution. treating you as if you're the most fragile jewel he's ever held but holding you with a grip so firm you're almost afraid he's just never gonna never let go of you. you eye him as he leads you to the living room, having taken the stance as a gentleman and taking out the tub out of your hands.

even with the lasting cold from the tub transferring to your skin you still feel warm, something of a tranquil and quiet silence comfortable falling over as you both settle on the couch. you're surprised he doesn't take the seat on the opposite of you as he's always has, this time next to you. not minding your knees bumping against each other as he scoops a spoonful and offers it to you.

... how did you get in this predicament? you wonder, but open your mouth and allow yourself to shift a little closer.

not pr

#ㅤ◜◡◝ . . signed !#twst #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland headcanons #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland scenarios #twisted wonderland imagines #malleus draconia x reader #malleus draconia #malleus x reader #x gn reader

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waterlilydrops · 23 days

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When He Becomes a Hero

It’s a bonus part of THIS :)

pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!reader

Summary: At the moment when Charles was about to be crowned world champion, he felt fear. He hated that his own fear might stop him from becoming a true hero.

word count: 2k

warning: fluff, imagine of Ferrari builds a champ car in 2026, mention of fear of failure, public proposing, Lewis feat.

notes: inspiration of this comes from an anon :) thanks a lot! Advices and thoughts are always welcomed.

“No doubt! Absolute control and absolute superiority! With every lap, Charles Leclerc has exemplified the essence of a true champion, pushing the limits of both human and machine to deliver unparalleled performances on the track. As he stands atop the podium, the world celebrates the rise of a true racing legend!”

“In a stunning display of skill and resilience, Charles Leclerc has clinched the World Drivers’ Championship for Ferrari, his unwavering dedication to the Scuderia Ferrari team has reignited the spirit of Maranello, inspiring fans around the globe with his unwavering commitment to excellence.”

“Also, thanks to Hamilton for his defenses and active performance throughout the race! He proved to the world that he is still among the contenders for the WDC. In motorsports, there’s no such thing as a prime age; as long as he still wants to win, this is his prime time!”

Everyone loves Ferrari because it’s full of topics and controversies.

Everyone loves Charles Leclerc. Because of his exquisite driving skills and unwavering determination, his face kissed by the gods, his dramatic experiences on the track, his fiery battles with Lewis, and his love life filled with pink bubbles.

As the showdown between Ferrari and Red Bull in Abu Dhabi, to decide the WDC and WCC is akin to a collision between Mars and Earth. And beyond the collision, as rumored, Charles will propose after the race, adding a melodramatic romance and a fairytale ending reminiscent of prince and princess.

The media is thrilled. It’s a surefire guarantee for attention.

The FIA is happy — soaring broadcast fees, investments bidding multiplied, and tickets that are worth their weight in gold.

They have no reason to be dissatisfied, to say it’s not perfect, or to express any inevitable regrets.

As Charles approached the main straight, gazing at the chequered flag looming almost within reach, took a few deep breaths, everything seemed so familiar to him, yet suddenly he was overcome by a strange sensation.

It’s not his first time been in the Yas Marina Circuit, not the first time saw the tumultuous mix of love and hate from the fans.

As long as he wins.

The air above Yas Marina will boil with excitement for him. Ferrari will win their long-awaited WDC and WCC titles, and he will be forever remembered as a key figure in Prancing horse‘s history. He may even unquestionably earn a Laureus Award.

No one can take it away from him, no one can say he’s undeserving. All the rumors and gossip will temporarily disappear—until his next failure.

It’s been many years since he was felt this way — uneasy, overwhelmed with thoughts, unable to clear his mind and grasp what he's truly thinking before the race.

The moment he entered the turn 21, he knew he’s made a mistake. He desperately tried to compensate, but suddenly realized that it's not the timing of his braking that was wrong, but the inner doubt he felt at that moment.

In that critical moment, he hesitated for a fraction of a second, maybe just 0.01 seconds, but it was after that 0.01 seconds that he crossed the finish line first, ending the race.

Maybe, even if he hadn’t won today, no one would blame him. He’s had 24 races this year, almost never leaving the podium. He's exceptionally talented, just really exhausted. But there’s no excuse. He’s Charles Leclerc, and winning is his only option.

The whole world will never know his moment of weakness, error, and confusion. The world still believes he’s like a hero incarnate, calm and unmovable, only seeking victory. Only he knew how anxious and fearful he felt when the pressure suddenly struck him in that moment.

After climbing out of the car, he stood by its side, letting the Ferrari fans roar his name and celebrate his uniqueness, letting the Red Bull fans silently stare and curse him for ruining another fairy tale, letting his colleagues sprint over, overwhelming him with cheers, piling on top of each other like human pyramids, celebrating by slapping each other’s backs or some part of their bodies. He seemed oblivious to it all, as if for a moment he was isolated from the world.

All he can felt is his own apprehension and disappointment.

“Is Charles okay?” You, after the initial excitement faded, suddenly sensed an unknown hint of something, giving rise to a certain doubt. “Xavi, Charles—”

Xavi couldn’t hear what she was saying at all. His cheeks were flushed with excitement, and he laughed heartily, high-fiving or shaking hands with everyone who reached out to him, sharing the joy or silently relishing in their envy, hatred, insincerity, and forced smiles.

Perhaps it was out of unwillingness to be left behind, or maybe just hoping to add to his glory, John Elkann deliberately put down someone who came to shake hands with him and bypassed Xavi, walking up to Pascale with a smile and said, “Ma’am, Signing your son may be one of Ferrari’s most wisest decision of the century.”

Pascale has experienced many sincere or insincere congratulations, praises, and flatteries from others, but even after a hundred times, the hundred and first time still made her feel uncomfortable and embarrassed. She still didn’t know how to respond. Before, she could only smile and said how great Charles was, but now she could look back at you.

Your lips moved slightly, but in the end, you temporarily suppressed your worries about Charles and smiled at Elkann, said, “Perhaps not making him an enemy of Ferrari was the wisest decision you’ve made in this century.”

The people in the garage paused for a moment, then burst into loud laughter.

At this moment, no one wanted to know if Charles had really lost his aura for a moment just now. All they needed is icing on the cake, to know that they had a hero on the field who could lead Ferrari.

And Charles is this hero, only he can play this role. Hero don't make mistakes, don’t hesitate, and never make mistakes or come close to making mistakes. They only move forward relentlessly.

At least for this second, he couldn't be a mortal.

No one noticed any difference in Charles from usual — this isn't to say they don’t care about him, but rather that although they noticed, they simply thought he was too tired to be as active as usual.

Faced such a high-level race, enduring 120 minutes of constant attack from Red Bull, if Charles returns to the garage too exhausted to say a word, too tired to even muster a smile, that would be completely acceptable.

Heroes are always treated with favor, heroes always have privileges.

Charles appeared somewhat weary as he walked out, but perhaps it was because he saw the Emir and his heir who hadn't left yet.

He leaned against the door for a moment, lips moving without saying anything, seeming ready to turn back to the driver’s room.

Some things can only be said to the closest people, let alone in front of the Emir.

Moreover, Charles was already hesitant about whether to let you know his thoughts. He approached with a strange courage, but any small obstacle — even just being touched—could immediately dispel all his impulses.

He glanced at you, who was talking to the Emir, suddenly feeling that perhaps he shouldn't tell you either.

You love stories of heroes, everyone knows that. Lewis is your hero, maybe now he is too.

The Emir noticed someone coming out behind him, glanced back, perhaps not expecting Charles to look so dispirited. But like everyone else, once he thought about the kind of battle it had been, he almost naturally let it go. He smiled at Charles and said nothing.

“Charlie,” you caught up with him a step after the Emir left, gently pulling him aside. You looked at him carefully for a moment before softly asking, “Why aren’t you happy?”

Charles hesitated for a moment, not saying anything.

You didn’t press him, just watched him.

A minute passed, feeling like a century, before Charles finally lowered his head and whispered, “I never said I wasn’t happy.”

You seemed to have something to say, but after thinking for a moment, you just squeezed Charles’s hand. “It’s okay as long as you’re happy, but if you’re not, you can tell me.”

Arthur called you loudly from the other side of the garage, wanting you to confirm something.

Seeing that Charles didn’t seem inclined to talk, you thought it would be better to go check on Arthur — but before you could take a step, Charles grabbed your hand.

“How did you know I’m not happy?” His voice remained low, with a hint of confusion. “Was it that obvious?”

But after asking that question, he denied himself. It couldn't be. He hadn't said a word, and no one else had noticed anything, so if you sensed it, it must be because you just knew.

This realization made Charles feel his heart swell for a moment.

“Yeah,” you sent your sibling to deal with Arthur, “When you came out of the car and stood there, I just knew you weren't happy — but I didn't know why.”

Charles suddenly felt both aggrieved and happy. He wanted to ask you why you didn’t know why he wasn’t happy, but he almost couldn’t resist the impulse to praise your understanding of him. In the end, amidst all the conflicting emotions, he just hugged you, resting his chin on your shoulder.

After a while, he said, “If I'm scared, will you still treat me like this?”

You froze for a moment, taking a long time to realize what it meant for him to be scared.

Charles Leclerc, at the moment of crossing the finish line, at the moment of almost perfectly embodying the hero image, was scared.

He was filled with fear that he couldn't be a true hero, and perhaps also fear that when you looked at him, it would be with an incredibly disappointed gaze.

“I’m scared too,” You said the word, but you voice was steady. “The thing I fear most in this world is seeing you unhappy, torturing yourself over a tiny mistake or someone else’s mistake. You may be a hero to others, but you need to know, you’re the love of my life, Charles. If I haven’t said it before, I’m telling you now, you are the love of my life. Legends are for others to see. I just want you to be happy and well. Do you understand what I mean?”

Charles held her for a moment, then suddenly bounded back to the driver’s room, calling out Lewis and Arthur's names loudly.

And then the door to the room was angrily kicked shut by Arthur, followed by louder noises emanating from it.

Five minutes later, when Xavi knocked on the door to call them out for celebration, they behaved as if everything was normal.

You didn’t notice that, contrary to his usual behavior, Arthur ended up at the back of the celebrating crowd. When you reached the garage exit, you habitually stopped, subconsciously intending to say a few more words to your interns. But completely caught off guard, Arthur pushed you out from behind.

A helicopter hovered above the Yas Marina Circuit, its cabin door open, showering what seemed like an endless waterfall of rose petals, as if to engulf the whole world.

Charles stood in the center of the rose storm, next to Lewis, who was smiling and holding a velvet box. And Charles opened the box, knelt down on one knee.

Inside was a teardrop-shaped green diamond ring. “Two years ago, I convinced you to give me a ring, and now it’s time for me to give you a gift other than today’s victory. You said you love my eyes the most. I’m willing to have my eyes shaped into your favorite shape and wear them on your hand, but I didn’t do that because I want to keep them to live with you. And I don’t want your fingers to be empty, so as a substitute, I found this. Now there are probably millions of people watching us. You love me so much, so you won’t refuse me and make me sad, right?”

You stood there dumbfounded, until Lewis turned to you. “Put on your ring and get your fiancé out of here! I need to get my trophy!”

#charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x reader #f1 x reader #f1 x you #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc imagine #f1 fanfic

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sare11aa11eras · 19 days

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I know I post intermittently abt the basketball AU of ASOIAF that lives in my head rent free but anyways the women’s college basketball season in the US just ended and I really do have some thoughts:

Sansa Stark 6’3” and kind of stacked she SHOULD be a post player but has never once driven to the basket in her LIFE. Somehow manages to make up for this in sheer volume of 3 pointers. Keeps getting compared to her mom who was the most terrifying power forward you ever saw in the Riverlands 20-something years ago despite the fact that there is almost nothing in common with their game styles.

Arya Stark, guard, has a really sweet mid-range game that everyone always forgets about but she’s got like 18 points in 28 min, makes about 5 steals a game. Unfortunately, gets in foul trouble. Keeps getting compared to Jon which drives her nuts.

Robb, went to the Westerosi National Basketball League at like 18, but before the championship game, the coach of an opposing team got a second coach to get players to deliberately injure him during a game. Somehow he got called for a technical foul on this. Ended his career in professional sports.

Dany, 5’6”, floor general and sharpshooter. Regularly beats defenders with more than half a foot on her to rebounds. Plays internationally full-time but her highlight reels still end up on Westerosi ESPN bc her family was at one point a dynasty in the basketball world. 90% of her instagram page is her with her three lizards.

Brienne is the Post Player’s Post Player— always boxes out, gets the rebound, blocks shots, drives etc, impeccable footwork. And then she also hits from distance and can guard. Cersei, the aging vet on the Lannisport Lions, wants her dead for once committing SEVEN blocks on her in a game when she was a rookie. Currently coached by Cat for the Riverlands Fighting Trout. There is a not insignificant fanbase of lesbians who want her to crush their heads with her thighs online but she is tragically into disgraced ex-Lions player Jaime Lannister who keeps bumming around the Riverlands for unclear reasons.

Jon Snow has been fouled out of games with technicals. He has never made a basket apart from a fast break layup or a free throw— except for like, two separate years??? where he got his team to the semifinals through a buzzer beater logo 3????? Somehow the undisputed defensive player of the year, the most universally loathed player in his conference, beloved by his own team, and a guy who once went viral for a video of him crying on his girlfriend after HER team lost while she just sort of patted his head.

#asoiaf #valyrianscrolls #basketball au #asoiaf modern au #also there’s the version of jon basketball au where he goes to the same all-girl catholic school as S&A and gets kicked out 4 🏳️‍⚧️#and this isn’t important but that’s one of the t4t jonsam aus

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elysiumania · 9 months

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title: carve it to the end pairing(s): blade, reader characters: blade, reader, kafka, silver wolf word count: 9.8k+ synopsis: blade is familiar with the profound sin that encompasses his entire existence, yet he never anticipated that a whirlwind of emotions for you would also ensnare him.

In the midst of your daring mission, you and Blade find yourselves separated from Kafka and Silver Wolf, who have been entrusted with the crucial task of retrieving the coveted stellaron from the clutches of the world's sovereign. This scenario is all too familiar, as Elio, your mysterious leader, often assigns you such missions to procure the stellaron from different worlds.

The urgency of the situation is palpable, as Elio's command weighs heavily on your shoulders. Time is of the essence, and the success of your mission depends on each member's unwavering focus and commitment.

The world you find yourselves entrenched in is a labyrinth of mysteries and dangers. Its atmosphere crackles with an otherworldly energy, its landscapes a juxtaposition of ethereal beauty and imminent peril. Shadows dance along the twisted paths, hinting at lurking threats that could emerge at any moment.

In the heart of the battlefield, you and Blade move with an elegant synchrony, your every action an evidence to the rigorous training and discipline that you both possess. Your movements are precise, your coordination seamless, as if you were two halves of a single entity, united by a common purpose.

Every movement is deliberate, calculated, as you swiftly evade the oncoming strikes and launch devastating counterattacks. The air is charged with a palpable tension, your senses heightened to their fullest extent.

Time seems to slow down. Your world narrows to the immediate threat before you, the rest of the battlefield fading into the periphery. The only sound you hear is the clash of steel, the rhythmic pounding of your heart, and the rhythmic breaths you take in tandem with each movement. There is a singular purpose that drives you forward – the complete annihilation of your enemies.

In a swift turn of your body, you witness Blade parry the bullets fired to him.

Blade's presence on the battlefield is truly formidable, exuding an aura of power and confidence that commands respect. Every swing of his blade is executed with calculated precision, a dance of lethal elegance. His movements are fluid and swift, as if he were an extension of his weapon, effortlessly cutting through adversaries with a deadly efficiency.

There is a raw intensity to his fighting style, a controlled ferocity that sends shivers down your spine. He is like a force of nature, untamed and relentless, his strikes landing with devastating impact. It is a sight to behold, the embodiment of a warrior at the peak of his skill and strength.

However, amidst the chaos and violence, you can discern a meticulousness in Blade's approach. His attacks are not haphazard or reckless, but rather purposeful and strategic. He anticipates his opponents' moves, parrying and countering with calculated precision. His reflexes are honed to a razor's edge, allowing him to seamlessly transition from defense to offense, leaving little room for his enemies to counterattack.

You, too, are a force to be reckoned with. Your reflexes are honed to perfection, your aim unerring as you unleash a hail of bullets, each shot finding its mark with lethal precision. Your training and experience have molded you into a formidable combatant, a force that strikes fear into the hearts of your enemies. Your focus is steady, your concentration laser-sharp as you analyze every opponent, calculating their weaknesses and exploiting them with ruthless efficiency.

As the battle wears on, a sense of fatigue begins to creep into your limbs. The adrenaline that fueled your movements earlier starts to wane, and you feel the weight of exhaustion settle upon you. Your breath becomes labored, each inhale a struggle as you try to replenish the oxygen needed to sustain your efforts.

The once effortless movements now require a conscious effort, each swing of your weapon feeling heavier than before. Your muscles ache, protesting the relentless strain placed upon them. But you push through the discomfort, your determination overriding the physical toll on your body.

With every passing moment, your stamina diminishes further. The pace of your strikes and evasions slows, each action requiring a greater expenditure of energy. Your once precise and fluid movements become more sluggish, the gaps in your defenses more apparent. But you refuse to yield, knowing that the moment you falter could spell disaster.

Your breaths become audible, each exhalation a visible cloud in the cold air. Beads of sweat drip down your brow, stinging your eyes as you struggle to maintain focus. The weight of exhaustion settles, threatening to drag you down. Yet, you find solace in the knowledge that you are not alone in this battle.

Despite the weariness that seeps into your bones, your pride and determination refuse to waver. You cannot bear the thought of leaving the burden solely to Blade, for that would make you vulnerable at a crucial moment. You know that victory in this battle depends on your firm presence and contribution.

As the enemy forces thin, a surge of determination courses through your veins. You can taste victory within reach, a tantalizing prospect that fuels your resolve. With renewed focus, you rally your remaining energy, striking back with a newfound ferocity. Each blow is a testament to your unyielding spirit, a defiance against the constraints of your weariness.

And finally, as the last enemy falls to the ground, a moment of stillness descends upon the battlefield. The air is heavy with the scent of blood and sweat, mingled with the unmistakable aura of victory. You stand amidst the fallen, your breaths coming in heaves, your body weary and battered. But within the exhaustion, there is a sense of triumph, an indomitable spirit that refuses to be defeated.

Every breath you took came with labor, as if each inhale and exhale required a monumental effort. Weary and fatigued, you turned your body to face Blade, whose face remained unblemished, betraying no signs of exhaustion or weariness. It was as if he had not engaged in the grueling battle that had left you drained and depleted.

Amazement and admiration swirled within you, mingling to form a chuckle that escaped your lips. You marveled at the strength embodied by your steadfast co-hunter, a strength that defied mortal limitations. The question lingered in your mind: Was this unwavering perseverance an inherent gift of his immortality?

Envy welled within you, a gnawing ache that intensified with each passing moment. It stemmed from Blade's indomitable will, his resolute determination that propelled him forward in the treacherous landscape of the battlefield. Yet, you couldn't help but be acutely aware that this very essence of strength—the enduring spirit that coursed through his veins—was also the source of his burden, one he carried with stoic grace.

Blade's eyes, intense and piercing, locked onto yours, their gaze penetrating through the facade of nonchalance he wore. A subtle furrow appeared between his brows. With each measured step, he closed the distance between you.

Your vision blurred, and the world around you transformed into a swirling haze, dissolving the boundaries between Blade and the backdrop. Amidst this kaleidoscope of colors, it was Blade's familiar hues that remained distinct, serving as a steadfast anchor amidst the chaotic whirlwind.

"(Name)," his voice called out, urgency lacing his tone, but you found yourself incapable of responding. Your focus shifted inward, drawn to the state of your own well-being. Fatigue clawed at your limbs, a relentless heaviness weighing down every movement, while a disorienting fuzziness clouded your thoughts.

Your body swayed, a mere puppet succumbing to the invisible forces tugging at your senses. Before comprehending the full extent of your unraveling consciousness, strong arms encircled your waist, pulling you into a tight embrace. The hold was both protective and firm, a lifeline anchoring you as you teetered on the precipice of unconsciousness.

With a final shuddering breath, the world around you faded into an all-encompassing darkness, your awareness slipping away like sand through your fingertips.

Blade's intense gaze remained fixed upon you, his eyes bearing witness to the toll that your relentless battles had taken on your weary form. He understood the limits that you, his trusted comrade, bore as a fellow hunter. Countless enemies had tested your stamina, their sheer numbers depleting your reserves as you confronted them head-on, side by side.

The signs of exhaustion were evident in the lousiness of your movements, your shoulders rising and falling in an irregular manner. Each breath became a heavy burden, weighing upon your chest. Your once fluid motions had begun to falter, slowing as weariness claimed its hold. Yet, even in the face of these challenges, you stood resolute, confronting the onslaught with dedication.

Finally, the last of your adversaries had been vanquished, leaving only stillness in their wake. Blade, ever vigilant, turned his attention towards you without delay. His piercing gaze met your weary countenance, observing a vulnerability that was unfamiliar to him. The customary smile that you often flashed at him, one that had grated his nerves in the past, was now replaced by a weariness he had not witnessed before—a new encounter, a glimpse of your fragility.

He approached you, his strides purposeful and deliberate, calling out your name to capture your attention. Yet, you remained lost in your own thoughts, your gaze fixated upon the ground as if oblivious to his voice. Sensing your imminent collapse, Blade's instincts kicked in, honed from years of battles fought side by side.

With remarkable swiftness, Blade extended his arm, snaking it around your waist, pulling you tightly against his chest. The impact of his swift action halted your impending fall, providing a secure anchor within the shelter of his embrace.

An irritated expression twisted Blade's features, his countenance marred by displeasure as he clicked his tongue in disapproval upon witnessing the vulnerability you now displayed. A flicker of annoyance danced within him, tugging at the corners of his being, yet an inexplicable flutter of something else lingered momentarily, a fleeting sensation that he swiftly dismissed.

He listened intently, attuned to the barely audible sound of your breathing, attesting to the rise and fall of your chest. Blade was certain that your slumber was merely a consequence of the relentless fatigue that accompanied the arduous battle you had endured. Letting out a sigh, he adjusted his stance, shifting his weight to better support you and ensure your comfort.

In the stillness, the sound of approaching footsteps broke the silence. Blade turned his gaze over his shoulder, catching sight of Kafka and Silver Wolf making their way toward him. A mischievous smirk adorned Kafka's face as her eyes fixated upon the curious and unusual scene unfolding before her.

"What happened to (Name)?" Silver Wolf inquired, her tone tinged with curiosity as she observed Blade and the slumbering figure in his arms.

"Fatigue," Blade responded curtly, his voice devoid of any elaboration.

"Oh? Did you encounter a formidable number of enemies then?" Kafka interjected with amusement. "It has been quite some time since I've seen (Name) exhausted to this extent. She usually dispatches her adversaries with impressive swiftness."

Blade chose not to respond to Kafka's remark, his gaze drifting down to your peaceful form nestled against his chest. The lines of fatigue that etched your face seemed to soften, revealing a vulnerability that was rarely witnessed. It was a sight that both intrigued and unsettled him, stirring emotions he struggled to comprehend.

"However, this scene is undoubtedly worth witnessing and quite rare.”

Blade's irritation grew as Kafka's words rang in his ears, emphasizing the rarity and significance of the scene unfolding before them. He groaned audibly, sensing the intrusion of his co-hunters into this trivial moment.

However, his annoyance escalated to exasperation as the sound of a shutter reached his ears, followed by the realization that Silver Wolf had captured a photograph of you both in your vulnerable state.

"I will send this photo to (Name)," the hacker announced, her fingers swiftly tapping on her phone to carry out her plan.

His head snapped towards his co-hunters, a glare burning in his eyes as he observed Silver Wolf holding her phone aloft, a mischievous and amused grin etched upon Kafka's face as she stood beside her, hand confidently placed on her hips.

A deep groan escaped Blade's lips, a resounding protest against the audacity of their endeavor. The boundaries of privacy seemed to blur in their presence, and he found himself grappling with the precarious balance between camaraderie and personal space.

Unperturbed by Blade's disapproval, Silver Wolf announced her intention to send the captured photo to you, her fingers tapping on her phone to execute the plan. Kafka's amusement was evident in her voice, reveling in the presumed surprise that awaited you upon awakening to a barrage of messages.

"She will be bombarded with this photo as soon as she awakens," Kafka chuckled, relishing the anticipation she held within her mischievous gaze. Her words danced with a mixture of presumption and amusement, an implicit belief that the outcome would be nothing short of entertaining.

As Silver Wolf scrutinized the sent photo, her sharp eyes honed in on a particular detail that caught her attention. With a sense of urgency, she zoomed in on the image, focusing on your arm. A splotch of crimson stood out, a telltale sign of blood trickling down your skin. Instantly, she relayed the concerning discovery to her companions.

"I believe it's imperative that we return to headquarters and bring (Name) to the healer without delay," Silver Wolf suggested, her tone laced with genuine concern. As she faced the perplexed expressions of her companions, she clarified her reasoning. "I noticed blood on her arm in the photo. It's possible she sustained a wound during the battle."

Blade's gaze snapped towards you, his attention immediately drawn to the area where the hacker had spotted the alarming sight. His eyes scanned your slumbering form, searching for any evidence of injury. And there, peeking out from the side of your arm, he spotted the crimson stain, smearing his own sleeves with your blood. A huff of frustration escaped his lips, mingled with a tinge of exasperation.

He couldn't help but ruminate on the recklessness that often coursed through you, the audacity with which you faced danger.

Indignation surged within Blade, rising like a tempest within his chest as he contemplated the dire consequences of your actions. While he grudgingly acknowledged his own tendency for recklessness, a belief that his immortal nature would allow him to withstand wounds and slashes with ease, he recognized the stark contrast in your vulnerability. You did not possess the gift-like-curse of immortality, and the wounds you sustained held the potential for far graver repercussions.

Devising meticulous plans, carefully assessing the movements and intentions of your enemies, had always been the cornerstone of Blade's approach to victory. It was a calculated dance, a strategic ballet that he had honed over time.

Yet, what gnawed at Blade's core, sparking the ember of irritation within him, was the unsettling realization that he was irked by your recklessness. It should not concern him if you were to meet your demise on the battlefield. After all, death had been his elusive pursuit, an ever-present companion lurking in the recesses of his existence, a catchphrase that easily rolled off his tongue. It was a facet of his other self, one he had sought to embrace yet had never fully attained.

And yet, the bitter taste that lingered on the tip of his tongue, the annoyance that prickled beneath his skin, betrayed a profound unease at the thought of your death. It was an incongruity that bewildered him, challenging his steadfast commitment to detachment. How could you, someone he had never truly regarded beyond the confines of a fellow hunter, stir within him such distaste for the inevitability of death?

Blade grappled with the paradox, his irritation growing in intensity. The disconcerting reality of his emotions cast a veil of unease upon his otherwise steadfast resolve. The boundaries that he had carefully constructed, separating himself from the lives of others, seemed to blur in your presence.

It was an annoyance that Blade struggled to comprehend, an unwelcome intrusion upon his carefully cultivated existence.

"We must hurry, for there may be more adversaries in our path," Kafka suggested, her voice grained with urgency.

In response, Blade swiftly and effortlessly scooped you up, cradling you in his arms with practiced ease—his hands supporting your knees and shoulders—before the trio embarked towards the waiting ship.

Their hurried footsteps resonated in unison. With every stride, Blade's focus remained fixed upon the precious cargo he carried, ensuring your safety as they made their way to the ship that would transport them to their destination.

Upon reaching their destination, Blade carefully set you down upon the bed in the clinic, relinquishing his hold as the healer swiftly took charge. His piercing gaze lingered upon you for a fleeting moment before he pivoted on his heel, preparing to depart the room.

“You’re leaving?”

Kafka's sudden question halted Blade in his tracks, prompting him to turn his gaze toward her. A hint of curiosity flickered in his eyes, awaiting her explanation.

"There's no need for me to linger here," he stated matter-of-factly.

"You're not going to look after (Name)?"

The inquiry caused his eyebrow to arch in mild confusion. "And why should I do that?"

"You already know that yourself, Bladie," she stated with a playful tone and a mischievous glint in her eyes.

Blade's frown deepened, his irritation bubbling to the surface.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he retorted, a note of finality in his voice. "And I have no interest in delving into whatever it is."

With that, Blade turned away, cutting off any further discussion. His steps carried him away from the room, leaving behind the enigmatic conversation. But, even as he walked away, the lingering words and insinuations gnawed at the edges of his thoughts, an unwelcome intrusion into his otherwise focused mind.

Blade found himself genuinely perplexed by Kafka's implications, unable to grasp the underlying meaning of her words. However, he couldn't deny the undeniable truth that it irritated him when it pertained to you. From the very beginning, since the moment you had invaded his mind, you had become a persistent presence, governing his thoughts and actions through your infuriating actions.

Within the recesses of his being, a tempestuous whirlwind raged, its origins elusive, its nature enigmatic. It swept through his soul, stirring up a maelstrom of emotions that clashed and clashed like thunderous waves against rugged cliffs. It was as if a churning vortex had taken residence within him, disrupting the tranquility he had come to know.

This enigmatic sensation, like a riddle without a solution, perplexed him, refusing to be neatly categorized or defined. It twisted and turned, defying his attempts to grasp its essence, teasing him with fleeting glimpses of comprehension before slipping away like smoke through his fingertips. It was a phantom, taunting him with its complex nature.

This inexplicable connection with you contradicted his stoic nature, defying the boundaries he had meticulously established to safeguard his emotions. The turbulence it caused within him was an unwelcome disruption, disturbing the delicate equilibrium he had carefully maintained for so long. Yet, despite his disdain for this unfamiliar sentiment, he couldn't escape its hold.

For now, Blade chose to bury those uncertainties, channeling his focus back to the tasks at hand. The path of a hunter was one fraught with danger and uncertainty, and he couldn't allow himself to be swayed by unexplained sentiments. With a steady stride, he continued his journey, suppressing the whisper of concern that followed in his wake.

“We have a new member in our team,” Kafka announced, looking at her side where a woman stood. “This is (Name). She will join as soon as Elio instructs us.”

As Kafka made the announcement, introducing you as the newest member of their team, your presence drew the attention of the group. All eyes turned towards you, including Blade's, who observed the exchange with a stoic expression.

Silver Wolf, brimming with an air of confidence, rose from her seat and approached you and Kafka. She introduced herself with a cool demeanor, extending her hand for a formal handshake. You reciprocate the gesture, a warm smile gracing your lips as you accept her greeting.

"(Name). I am pleased to meet you," you replied, your tone reflecting sincerity and openness.

Beside her, Kafka took it upon herself to introduce Blade, her words tinged with a hint of playful warning.

"And this is Blade. He's got a few quirks, but he's a pretty decent guy. Just make sure you don't rub him the wrong way. But please beware around him," Kafka introduces him on his behalf, with a casual tone.

She conveyed his complexities, acknowledging the challenges that might arise when interacting with him. Blade simply nodded in acknowledgment, his gaze steady as he absorbed the introductions.

Taking the initiative, you extended your hand towards Blade, your gesture mirroring the earlier exchange between Silver Wolf and yourself. With a gentle smile, you spoke, voicing your hope to maintain a positive rapport.

"Blade, it's a pleasure to meet you too. I hope I can avoid getting on your bad side," you said with genuine sincerity, the sparkle in your eyes hinting at your lightheartedness.

Rather than accepting your extended hand, Blade's reaction was one of dismissiveness and disdain. He emitted a snort of irritation before abruptly turning his back to you, retreating to his designated place. It was a deliberate gesture, a clear message that he had no intention of entertaining any further interaction or connection with you.

From that moment onward, a peculiar dynamic unfolded between you and Blade. The intensity of your gaze, your unwavering attention directed towards him, became a persistent source of irritation and anger. It was as if your eyes bore into his very being, their weight an ever-present reminder of your presence.

Whether in the midst of missions or within the confines of the headquarters, your stares persisted, unabated and noticeable. It was a lack of discretion that only heightened his vexation, making it impossible for him to ignore the density of your steady focus.

Initially, Blade had chosen to overlook your behavior, granting you the benefit of the doubt and assuming that it would soon wane or change. He had granted you his patience and considered it a passing phase, a temporary inconvenience. However, as the days wore on and your behavior remained unchanged, frustration welled within him, igniting a simmering anger that threatened to boil over.

He had expected the glue-like hold you seemed to have on him to loosen, to fade away. Yet, to his dismay, it clung to him with unrelenting persistence, defying his attempts to shake it off. The irritation stirred within him, his patience waning, as the boundary of tolerance grew thinner with each passing moment.

The sudden aggression in Blade's actions shattered the fragile calm that had previously enveloped the hallway. The forceful slam against the wall resonated through the confined space, echoing with a resounding intensity. His arms flanked your head, his piercing gaze meeting your bewildered self with an unsettling mix of intensity and rage.

Caught off guard, you found yourself pinned against the unyielding surface, your movement restricted by the sheer force of Blade's hold. The abrupt halt in your path to your room left you suspended in a moment of uncertainty, as you struggled to comprehend the reason behind his unexpected and aggressive actions.

“What is your scheme, huh?”

His voice, husky yet dangerous, sliced through the air like a blade. His inquiry demanded answers, seeking to unravel the motivations behind your actions, or perhaps to assert dominance over the situation. The solemnity of his words filled the space, leaving little room for evasion or half-truths.

As Blade's intense gaze bore into your own, his indignation smoldered beneath the surface. The innocence reflected in your eyes, an aspect he vehemently abhorred, only served to further stoke the flames of his anger. It was a stark contrast to his own nature, an antithesis that rankled against his very being.

You responded, your voice steady yet laced with a hint of composure.

"I don't know what you're talking about," you declared, your words echoing in the tense atmosphere.

Blade's growl reverberated through the air, a primal display of dominance and power. The impact of his hands against the wall echoed his warning, a reminder of what he was capable of should he be further provoked. But, despite his fearsome actions, you remained steadfast, your unwavering gaze fixed upon him, as if seeking to untangle the enigma that resided within his soul.

His voice, dripping with darkness and cruelty, lashed out at you, laying bare his frustrations. The intensity of his stare pierced through you, the weight of his words bearing down upon your shoulders. He acknowledged the patience he had shown thus far, acknowledging the restraint he had exercised in the face of your relentless scrutiny.

"You have persistently fixed your gaze upon me, which has been rather vexing. Consider yourself fortunate that, despite my reputation for impatience, I have displayed remarkable restraint and refrained from terminating your existence due to your incessant and intrusive stares."

In response to his threat, you remained resolute, your voice steady as you spoke. "Then, I am thankful that you haven't taken my life yet.”

“Tell me a plausible reason to refrain myself from ending you.”

"I want to know more about you," you admitted, your voice holding a mixture of curiosity and determination. It was a risky statement, one that defied his expectations and pushed the boundaries of his guarded existence.

His piercing gaze bore into you, intensifying with disbelief and a hint of warning. The depths of his glare seemed to echo a sense of cruelty and danger, as if he dared you to challenge his skepticism.

"Don't test me," he scowled, his voice laced with an edge of threat.

"I beg to differ," you retort. "You remain an enigma to me, a puzzle that has piqued my curiosity. It was relatively effortless for me to become acquainted with Kafka and the others, but you, on the other hand, prove to be a unique challenge. Perhaps it is your distant and aloof nature that sets you apart, or perhaps there are deeper underlying factors at play."

"You previously mentioned your desire to avoid antagonizing me, yet it appears that you have now succeeded in doing so."

Blade's words dripped with venom, his threat drifting through the charged atmosphere. The darkness that shrouded him threatened to consume the space between you, leaving little room for leniency or understanding. It was clear that he believed you had crossed a line, evoking the wrath of his ire.

With a heavy sigh, you faced him without fear.

Blade's disbelief was palpable, his features contorted in a mix of incredulity and frustration. His eyebrows furrowed deeply, and his clenched jaw revealed the inner turmoil as he fought to rein in his rising anger. With one final glare, he abruptly withdrew his body, releasing you from the oppressive presence he had imposed upon you.

"Your reasons for joining the Stellaron hunters are not my concern," he declared, his voice laced with an undeniable edge of irritation. "Keep your intrusive curiosity to yourself and refrain from bothering others. I have no interest in knowing anything about anyone, including you."

The finality in his words echoed through the space, underscoring his disinterest in delving into matters beyond the immediate scope of their shared mission. It was a clear message, signaling that further attempts to breach the walls he had erected would be met with resistance and hostility.

With that, Blade turned away, leaving you to absorb the weight of his rejection and the boundaries he had firmly established. The tension between you hung in the air, an unspoken barrier that seemed insurmountable.

As he strode off, a cold and distant aura enveloped him, shielding him from the intrusions of curiosity and connection that you had attempted to breach.

The surreptitious glances you cast in Blade's direction did not escape notice, despite his prior warnings and threat. Nonetheless, he begrudgingly acknowledged that the frequency of those glances had diminished compared to earlier encounters. When accompanying other hunters on missions, it granted Blade a fleeting respite, a temporary reprieve from the occasional scrutinizing gazes that seemed to dissect him from afar.

Yet, upon your return, you would invariably greet him with an amiable smile and a friendly wave, seemingly oblivious to his prior admonitions. Blade, resolute in maintaining his distance, opted for complete disregard, refusing to acknowledge your presence or partake in any form of interaction.

However, when circumstances dictated that the two of you found yourselves on the same mission, the task became increasingly burdensome for Blade. Not due to any perceived deficiency on your part, but rather because of the unyielding intensity of your penetrating stares. They bore into him, as if endeavoring to unravel the enigmatic cloak that enveloped his very essence.

In response, Blade's glare would intensify, a lethal warning etched within his gaze. It stood as a silent plea for you to desist in your unyielding observation, a plea that fell upon deaf ears. Despite his explicit caution, you persisted in your pursuit, undeterred by his unspoken signals.

There arrived a moment when Blade's anger and irritation reached a boiling point, overpowering his self-restraint. In an uncontrollable surge of rage, he found himself unsheathing his sword, employing it as a tangible manifestation of his pent-up emotions. It was a perilous act, a palpable reflection of his internal struggle, as he fought to regain dominion over himself in the face of your relentless actions.

However, even in light of his aggression, you remained undeterred, unflinching in the face of the menace he presented. The clash between the two of you transformed into a battle of wills, an unyielding pursuit on your part juxtaposed with his unwavering resistance. The tension between you surged, leaving behind a trail of disquietude and exasperation in its wake.

Intrigued by Kafka's insatiable curiosity, she felt compelled to confront Blade about his abrupt outburst. Approaching him with a mixture of fascination and concern, her voice held a subtle undertone of intrigue, as she sought to crack the reason behind his aggressive actions.

"Why did you resort to such measures, Bladie?" she inquired, her tone infused with genuine curiosity.

The embers of Blade's anger still smoldered within him, evident in the acerbic manner in which he delivered his words.

"That woman certainly knows how to stoke the fires of my fury," he growled, bitterness dripping from his voice.

Kafka's eyes narrowed, fixating on Blade intently. She meticulously assessed the situation, scouring for any visible signs of harm inflicted upon him, only to find none. There had to be a catalyst, a trigger that had prompted such an instinctive and volatile response from him.

Based on her astute observations, Kafka deduced that your actions had not warranted such an aggressive reaction. Puzzlement tinged her words as she probed deeper, yearning for clarity.

"From what I witnessed, (Name) did nothing to incite your anger. Or am I missing something?"

Blade's head snapped towards Kafka, his forehead furrowing with a blend of frustration and defensiveness.

"She persisted with those vexing stares, despite my explicit warning," he retorted.

A playful spark flickered within Kafka's eyes as she observed Blade, a subtle amusement tugging at the corners of her lips.

"Ah, I comprehend now," she replied, a trace of understanding seeping into her voice. "So, that is the crux of the matter."

Blade huffed, his frustration unabated. "If she refuses to desist, I shall not hesitate to end her myself," he declared, his words carrying an icy finality.

Kafka's amusement only intensified, her expression transforming into one of playful intrigue. She appeared to find the entire situation rather entertaining, studying Blade with a blend of fascination and amusement. It was evident that she had gleaned something deeper from the intricate dynamics between you and Blade, something that transcended mere annoyance.

With the threat hanging palpably in the air, the tension between you and Blade reached an unprecedented apex, the consequences of your unyielding stares teetering on treacherous ground. The ball now rested in your court, presenting you with a pivotal choice – either relent and abandon this perilous path or persist with an unwavering determination, willing to face the consequences that lay in wait.

The passage of time transformed weeks into months, and yet, there remained no trace of your return from the mission undertaken alongside Kafka. Blade found himself ensnared in an unfamiliar state of tranquility, relishing in the absence of your persistent stares. Initially expecting your reappearance after a mere week, he had braced himself for the resumption of your penetrating gaze. However, the passing months painted a contrasting picture, shrouding your whereabouts in mystery.

Inquiries gnawed at the fringes of Blade's consciousness. Could the mission truly detain you for such an extensive duration? It seemed implausible that you and Kafka, both formidable in your own right, would succumb to failure or meet your demise at the hands of adversaries. Blade intimately understood the strength and cunning of his comrades. Furthermore, the absence of any official proclamations from Elio only heightened his conviction that your mission endured.

Despite his profound antipathy towards you, Blade could not dismiss your capabilities. He was not petty enough to overlook or disregard the skills of another, even if he harbored personal disdain. Reluctantly, he acknowledged your competence, recognizing that you were not to be underestimated.

Yet, amidst the tranquil days, thoughts of you infiltrated Blade's mind akin to an unyielding anchor rooted deep within the ocean floor. Rare was the occasion when he allowed himself to be consumed by thoughts of another, especially one who irked him to the core. The frustration and anger that simmered within him escalated with each passing day, a constant reminder of the enigma you had become in his existence.

Blade grappled with reconciling these conflicting emotions, struggling to comprehend why you had managed to etch yourself so indelibly in his thoughts. He battled against his own resistance, resenting the intrusion of your presence monopolizing his mind. It was a vexing state of affairs, leaving him wrestling with an amalgamation of sentiments he had long sought to suppress.

As the months gradually wore on, Blade found himself increasingly exasperated by the lingering presence of your memory within his thoughts. The weight of your existence persisted like an anchor, impeding the tranquility of his mind. It posed an enigma that defied resolution, a puzzle that exasperated him to no end.

Blade's ruminations incessantly revolved around the void created by your absence, compelling him to ponder over the intricacies of your mission and the current state of affairs. Despite having access to the contact information of all the Stellaron hunters, he deliberately abstained from possessing any trace of your details. The contempt he nurtured towards your presence rendered any form of direct communication superfluous in his discerning eyes.

His inclinations inclined towards solitude and seclusion, seldom initiating contact with his fellow hunters unless exigencies dictated such action. He refrained from extending his reach to others or responding to their messages unless they pertain directly to the ongoing missions at hand. Blade discerned no necessity for casual conversations or trivial exchanges that deviated from the intended purpose.

"I am aware that your perpetual annoyance and anger are constants, but on this occasion, they seem to possess a heightened potency compared to prior instances, even in the absence of any discernible source of provocation," Silver Wolf remarked, her voice resounding within their customary resting room. Engrossed in her gaming pursuits, she paused momentarily after completing a round.

Blade cast a sidelong glance at her, his irritation apparent. However, he chose to remain silent, maintaining his comfortable position on the couch as his gaze reverted to fixating upon the aquarium wall situated before him.

"Even in your current relaxed state, I can sense the presence of your simmering irritation permeating the room, you're aware of that, aren't you?"

Silver Wolf let out a sigh of resignation, her shoulders slumping in response to Blade's unresponsive demeanor. But just as the air left her lungs, a familiar sound filled the air, slicing through the silence—her phone's ringing tone. It was Kafka on the line, and without hesitation, she swiftly accepted the call.

"Hey."

"Hello, Silver Wolf! I'm out shopping today since it's our well-deserved rest day for both (Name) and I."

Silver Wolf caught a movement from the corner of her eye, prompting her to turn her head and meet Blade's gaze. He had straightened his posture on the couch from his relaxed position, his attention now fixated on her. A shift in his demeanor was apparent; he seemed alert and engaged as he observed Kafka's video call.

"When will you be back?" the hacker inquired.

"I'm still waiting for Elio's instructions. He mentioned that we should remain here for a while longer, as there's an upcoming mission on the horizon."

"And where's (Name)?"

A soft rustling sound reached Silver Wolf's ears once more, drawing her attention. Her gaze shifted to Blade, noting the subtle change in his posture. He now leaned forward, his upper body hunched over with elbows resting on his knees, his hands intertwined together. His focused stance mirrored his intent, as if he hung onto every word exchanged during the conversation.

"(Name) is currently recuperating in a small hospital. She sustained an injury during our mission, though thankfully, it isn't too severe.”

"Tell her to rest well.”

"Of course.”

With the call concluded, she pocketed her phone and shifted her gaze towards Blade, her eyes searching for any trace of empathy or understanding. Yet, his response was a mere scoff, accompanied by a dismissive comment.

"Weak," he uttered, his tone laced with disdain and Silver Wolf only released a defeated sigh.

With the homecoming of weary hunters, an air of relief and delight enveloped the headquarters. Genuine smiles adorned the faces of Silver Wolf and their comrades, manifesting their sincere joy as they warmly welcomed your return from the arduous mission. The unity and camaraderie among the team were palpable, tangible evidence of the bonds forged through shared trials and tribulations.

Blade trailed behind Silver Wolf, observing the scene with a detached interest. His gaze fleetingly brushed over the joyful countenances and animated conversations, until it settled upon you—the very source of his vexation. There you stood, radiant with an effusive grin, your hand extended in a friendly wave.

In that moment, an unfamiliar warmth stirred within Blade, threatening to breach the fortress he had meticulously erected around his emotions. It was a sensation alien and disconcerting, a stark departure from his accustomed state of detached coldness. Its presence vexed him to no end, this inexplicable emergence of nascent sentiments that simmered just beneath the surface.

He endeavored to quell the burgeoning warmth, dismissing it as a transient aberration in his otherwise composed and chaotic existence. Yet, with each subsequent encounter, every instance where your firm gaze locked onto him, the intensity of this sensation surged, chipping away at his steely resolve. Frustration surged within him, further aggravating the already tempestuous storm of his emotions.

Blade fought against the onslaught of these unfamiliar sentiments, unwilling to succumb to their influence. He clung to the familiarity of his annoyance, his irritation serving as a shield against the disconcerting stirrings within his heart. But deep down, he knew that ignoring these feelings would only fuel their fire, intensifying the turmoil he sought so desperately to quell.

As the days unfolded and your presence remained a constant in his life, Blade found himself increasingly entangled in a web of conflicting emotions. The war between his irritation and the burgeoning warmth waged on, leaving him with a sense of frustration and a growing awareness of the enigma you had become to him.

In the midst of the chaotic battlefield, where danger lurked at every turn, a pivotal moment unfolded that would test the depths of your connection. As the clash of weapons echoed around you, a swift and unexpected strike found its mark, piercing Blade's chest with a searing pain.

In that instant, your instinctual response kicked in, overriding any fear or hesitation that threatened to consume you. With unwavering determination, you raced towards Blade, your steps propelled by a surge of panic and concern. The gravity of the situation urged you to act swiftly, to protect him from further harm.

Despite the formidable adversaries that interposed themselves along your path, your singular focus remained unwaveringly fixed upon your wounded comrade. Each opponent that dared to obstruct your passage fell swiftly and decisively to your calculated strikes. Guided by a relentless sense of urgency, you traversed the battlefield with unwavering resolve, your purpose anchored in reaching Blade's side and attending to his injuries.

Finally arriving at his side, your hands descended upon his wounded chest with an unyielding grip. Worry danced upon your countenance, etching a crease upon your brow and compelling your teeth to gnaw on your lip. Clutching a tightly held handkerchief, you applied firm pressure to his wound, striving to staunch the torrent of blood that threatened to steal his vitality.

Blade, despite his internal resistance to your ministrations, could not help but perceive the genuine concern etched across your visage. The furrowed brows, the resolve that emanated from your eyes, and the sheer intensity of your actions conveyed volumes, surpassing the need for any spoken words in that critical juncture.

"Blade, we must attend to this injury quickly!"

Your voice quivered with genuine concern and panic, causing Blade to momentarily recoil, caught off guard by the sincerity emanating from your words. The urgency in your voice and the unmistakable tremor in your tone pierced through his defenses, reaching a dormant place within him that had long remained untouched.

Perplexity enveloped him as he struggled to comprehend the depth of your distress over a mere wound, particularly considering his own immortal nature. Yet, as his gaze remained fixed upon your countenance, a subtle yet undeniable transformation transpired within him. A tingling sensation rippled from the pit of his stomach, coursing through his chest—a foreign and unfamiliar sensation that evoked curiosity rather than repulsion.

Blade caught a glimpse of something he had long denied himself—the touch of genuine concern and the presence of someone who genuinely cared. It served as a stark contrast to the scorn and condemnation he had grown accustomed to receiving from others. For the first time in centuries, there was someone in close proximity, tending to his well-being without reservation.

A tumultuous dichotomy of irritation and acceptance rose within him, engendering a tangled tapestry of conflicting emotions. The familiar irritation that had once consumed him began to dissipate, gradually replaced by a growing appreciation for your presence and the concern you exhibited.

Though the intricacies of his shifting emotions eluded full comprehension, Blade acknowledged the faint stirrings of comfort that arose in your proximity.

"What happened?" Kafka's voice interjected, causing you to whip your head in her direction. The perplexed look on her face mirrored your own surprise, as she observed the perturbation etched on your features.

"Blade... he got stabbed! We need to hurry and bring him to the healer!" Panic laced your words, urgency driving you to take swift action.

Kafka's eyes followed your hand, which was placed on Blade's chest, the rise and fall of his breath now a matter of concern. Slowly, her gaze ascended to his face, a mixture of irritation and nonchalance evident in his features. Then, her attention refocused on your frantic self.

A few moments passed, during which Kafka's gaze seemed to penetrate the situation, processing the scene before her. Suddenly, a burst of laughter erupted from her chest, echoing through the tense atmosphere.

"Why are you laughing? This is not a laughing matter, Kafka!" you exclaimed, your frustration palpable as you glared at the wine-haired beauty.

Blade let out a low groan, vigorously slapping your hand away from his chest. His unexpected display of aggression surprised you, especially considering the wound he had sustained. It was as if the act of being stabbed was nothing more than an ordinary occurrence for him, leaving you even more baffled. Was that the reason behind Kafka's laughter?

Your confusion deepened, and you couldn't make sense of the situation.

"Oh, (Name). I thought you knew," Kafka chuckled, her laughter now laced with a sense of amusement at your bewilderment.

"About what?"

With a brief glance at Blade, who was sheathing his sword with his back turned to them, Kafka's words carried a hint of knowing.

"Bladie is no stranger to mere wounds or injuries. That particular wound is insignificant to him. He is impervious to any harm inflicted upon his physical form. In fact, he transcends the limitations of us human beings; he is immortal, my dear (Name)."

WIth Kafka’s revelation your treatment of him immensely changed. As well as Blade found himself caught in a flurry of contradictions, torn between the desire for your absence and the inexplicable irritation when you complied with his wishes. Your change in treatment, while seemingly what he had wanted, now left him more unsettled and furious than ever before.

He couldn't understand why he was feeling this way, and it frustrated him to no end. The inexplicable emotions that welled up within him whenever you were around were foreign and unwelcome. It was as if the walls he had erected around his heart were slowly crumbling, revealing a vulnerability he had long suppressed.

The sight of you flashing smiles at others, tending to their wounds with genuine concern, ignited an unfamiliar sensation within him. He detested the repulsive sensation that surged through him, the possessive instinct that flared up whenever he saw you caring for someone else. He loathed the fact that you had this effect on him, making him question his own emotions and reactions.

Blade couldn't fathom why he cared, why he was bothered by your interactions with others. He was the immortal, the one who had long shut himself off from emotional attachments. And yet, here you were, weaving your way into his thoughts and emotions, stirring up a turmoil he couldn't escape.

With each passing day, the irritation only intensified, creating a storm of clashing emotions within him. He was more furious with himself for feeling this way, for allowing you to affect him in ways he had never experienced before.

Kafka, with her keen and perceptive eyes, couldn't help but remark upon Blade's discernibly heightened irritation—an observation that had not eluded her astute perception. Driven by her insatiable curiosity, she promptly broached the subject, seeking to unravel the enigma of his unusual demeanor. Yet, true to his character, Blade responded with his customary dismissiveness, casually brushing aside her concerns without proffering any elucidation. With an air of nonchalance, he redirected his attention to the task at hand, leaving the mystery of his behavior to linger in the air, unresolved.

Time seemed to elude Blade as he stood in his room. Lost in a labyrinth of thoughts concerning you, he found himself unaware of the passing hours, each moment consumed by you. A soft groan of frustration escaped his lips, acknowledging his own inability to pull away from his thoughts of you.

Feeling the weight of his restless mind, Blade resolved to take a moment for himself, to release some pent-up tension and clear his head. With purposeful steps, he made his way towards the nearby shower, where he could let off some steam. As the water continued to cascade over his form, Blade attempted to center his attention on the sensation of droplets caressing his skin, hoping it might serve as a distraction from the turmoil that roiled within his mind. Allowing the warmth to envelop him, he sought to ease the tension in his muscles, striving to liberate himself from the grip of his incessant thoughts.

Shaking his head, he endeavored to clear his mind of these unwelcome musings.

"What is wrong with me?" he muttered to himself, perturbed by the uncharacteristic surge of emotions that enveloped him. He had prided himself on being an unyielding and emotionless immortal, impervious to the influences of the world around him. Yet, there he stood, beleaguered by persistent thoughts concerning a mere mortal such as yourself.

With a resigned sigh, he turned off the shower and stepped out, enveloping his form with a towel. Gazing at his reflection in the fogged-up mirror, his crimson eyes reflected a blend of irritation and confusion. The unanticipated unraveling of his self-control by your presence bewildered him, leaving him grappling with emotions he could not completely understand.

Clasping his fists, he felt a surge of anger stirring within him. He could not afford to be ensnared by distractions, especially with perilous missions on the horizon. He must reclaim his focus and staunchly set aside these unwelcome and perplexing emotions.

Blade was clad in nothing but a short pajama, a towel casually draped over his shoulders to catch the lingering droplets of water. As he moved towards his bed, the resounding knock on his door demanded his attention. Curious and somewhat irritated by the intrusion, he opened the door, only to be taken aback by the sight before him—you standing there, an unexpected presence in this hour.

His surprise was evident in the slight widening of his eyes and the subtle raising of his brows. He couldn't fathom how you managed to leave the infirmary, where you were supposed to be resting. He silently calculated the time since their arrival, and the realization struck him like a bolt of lightning—five hours had passed.

"Hello," you greeted timidly. "I hope I'm not intruding."

"What brings you here?" he asked, irritated.

"I just wanted to express my gratitude for carrying me back to headquarters... and, well, apologize for any inconvenience."

"There was no other option. Kafka and Silver Wolf couldn't have taken you to the infirmary, could they? So, there's no need for thanks or apologies."

His blunt words briefly caught you off guard, causing you to blink before mustering a small smile.

"Oh." You blinked, mustering a small smile. "You're right. In that case, I'll take my leave now."

With a respectful bow, you turned on your heels, preparing to depart from his presence.

Blade's unwavering gaze remained fixated on you as you turned to depart, yet his eyes were subtly drawn to the exposed nape of your neck, igniting an inexplicable and unfamiliar sensation within him. The sight stirred something indescribable, a strange blend of emotions that only added to his growing frustration.

A maelstrom of confusion engulfed his thoughts as he questioned what was happening to him. Was he losing control, his once-steadfast sanity slipping through his grasp like elusive sand? The enigmatic emotions that besieged him intensified, leaving him grappling with a turbulent turmoil that defied understanding.

Just as the sound of heels clicking heralded your departure, Blade's trance was abruptly shattered. A primal force took hold of him, compelling him to act instinctively. In a moment beyond conscious contemplation, he seized your wrist, pulling you into his room with an abrupt force that elicited a surprised yelp from you. The door slammed shut behind you, sealing the two of you within its confines.

With an aggressive demeanor, Blade pinned you against the wall, his imposing figure rendering you feeling confined and vulnerable. His arms effectively caged you on either side of your head, while his intense gaze bore into you menacingly.

“W-What?”

Evident confusion colored your countenance as you cautiously questioned Blade, uncertain if your presence had once again provoked his irritation. His crimson eyes bore into you menacingly, wordlessly refusing to offer any response, leaving you to draw in a sharp breath, attempting to steady yourself. The charged atmosphere weighed heavily, prompting contemplation on whether a hasty escape was prudent. Yet, deep down, you recognized the futility of such an endeavor, as Blade's unmatched speed and strength would swiftly thwart any such attempt.

Summoning your courage, you made another attempt to prompt him, your words quivering slightly as they escaped your lips.

"Is there something you wish to say to me?" Despite the trepidation that tugged at your composure, you endeavored to maintain a composed facade, resolute in concealing your vulnerability.

Blade's response came with a visible grimace, his frustration unmistakable in his words, "You have persistently become annoying."

As he dipped his head, intensifying his scrutiny upon you, you valiantly struggled to keep your expression relaxed, even as your trembling hands betrayed the true depth of your emotions. The fearless front you displayed appeared only to further kindle his anger, intensifying the storm of emotions that swirled within him.

You are maddening.

"What did I even do?" Your voice took on a challenging tone, akin to that of a young cub ready to fight and growl. Intensely, you locked eyes with Blade, seeking an explanation for his behavior and his cryptic words.

"I should be the one saying that," he responded, his baritone voice carrying an edge of frustration. His answer only deepened your bewilderment, leaving you more perplexed than before.

"Huh? I don't understand—" you began to speak, but Blade's growl cut you off, silencing your words.

“What did you even do to me? Do you have another ability that can control emotions without our knowledge?”

His sudden accusation threw you off balance, as he insinuated that you possessed an ability to control emotions unbeknownst to anyone.

Your eyebrow arched in surprise and disbelief at the preposterous notion. You couldn't fathom what had gotten into Blade to make such an accusation, but you knew you needed to explain yourself, to set the record straight.

"Blade, I must admit I'm quite baffled by your accusation, as I genuinely don't know what you're referring to. I assure you, I haven't been doing anything to intentionally irritate you," you calmly explained with unfaltering eyes. "In fact, I've been following the caution you advised me about. So, I'm at a loss as to why you're upset with me once again."

Blade was right. Your compliance with his previous warning seemed to be the catalyst for your altered treatment of him. But what baffled him even more was why this change had only manifested recently, not from the very day he initially cautioned you.

Moreover, why is he justifying himself and becoming frustrated yet again? The question rings within him, echoing like an elusive whisper in the depths of his mind. He yearned to understand the source of his inner turmoil, to unravel the feelings that are sprouting in him.

The air was charged with an unmistakable sense of unease, and you could feel the weight of his emotions, veiled behind his crimson eyes. The conflict within him seemed to mirror the battle within your own heart, yearning to bridge the gap between you and find a common ground.

As you continued to gaze at him, a sliver of vulnerability flashed across Blade's hardened facade. It was fleeting, like a flickering flame, but enough to hint at the complex emotions that churned beneath his stoic exterior. His frustration seemed to be rooted in something deeper, something he struggled to put into words.

"You're well aware that I could wrap my hands around your neck and squeeze out that life of yours, aren't you?" he murmured, his lips hovering just above your ear, causing a shiver to course down your spine.

“Y-You’re crazy…”

He retracted his head slightly, fixing you with a sharp and penetrating gaze. The subtle quivering of your lips did not escape his notice, and a silent challenge passed between you both. His eyes traced a path from your intense gaze, skimming over your nose before finally lingering on your lips—a peculiar fixation, as if he had stumbled upon something mesmerizing and peculiar. An unusual urge seemed to flicker in his mind, an impulse to sink his teeth into your soft flesh until it bled.

Blade's tongue darted out, leaving a glistening trail across his lips as he raised his gaze to meet yours once more. The crimson hue of his eyes gleamed with a dangerous allure, veiled by a haze of emotions not easily discernible. Your jaw involuntarily dropped, unable to contain the wild pounding of your heart. The tension crackled with intensity, enveloping you both in its all-encompassing grip.

Every fiber of your being urged you to step back, to flee from the enigmatic danger that lurked in his captivating gaze. Yet, an inexplicable magnetism held you firmly in place, as if some invisible force bound you together.

The air hung heavy with anticipation, each passing second stretching into what felt like an eternal moment. Words seemed superfluous, for the unspoken language between your intertwined gazes conveyed more than mere sentences ever could. The space between you two became charged with a palpable energy, akin to the approach of an electrifying storm—impossible to ignore, as it enveloped you both in its relentless and tantalizing embrace.

"B-Blade—"

In an unforeseen twist of events, Blade's lips collided onto yours with a fervor that left you wide-eyed and breathless. The abruptness of the action rendered you momentarily frozen, unable to process the torrent of emotions and sensations that surged through your body.

Far from tender, the kiss bore a fierce and almost desperate intensity, as though it carried the weight of his very existence. It seemed as if he sought to carve himself upon you, as if this act of intimacy represented the last defiant stroke in a battle he waged within himself.

A sharp whimper involuntarily escaped your lips as he bit down with force, the metallic tang of your blood mingling with the taste of his kiss. The stinging sensation jolted you, yet you found yourself unable to push him away, as his strength overwhelmed any feeble attempts to resist. Instead, instinctively, you clung to him, your fingers digging into his shoulders, seeking to anchor yourself amidst the swirling chaos.

When he eventually withdrew, your breaths intertwined within the tensed air enveloping you both. His crimson eyes bore into yours, a tumultuous mix of emotions reflecting in their depths. Words eluded you as your mind grappled with the tangled array of feelings that engulfed you.

All was a blur, your heart pounding in your chest, mirroring the adrenaline-fueled rush of your thoughts. You felt like an unwitting participant in a dance of fate, entangled within a complex web of emotions that seemed to defy all rationality.

Blade's actions left you dazed and vulnerable, your thoughts in disarray. However, beneath the veil of aggression, you couldn't help but sense a raw vulnerability in him, a vulnerability that mirrored the turmoil of your own feelings.

His intense gaze bore into you, searing into your very soul, as he uttered those few words that carried a world of meaning.

"You make me go crazy."

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