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latanyalove · 3 days

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I don't know if you do requests, but could I ask for a Mihawk x Rescued! Former slave! reader. Lets say she was saved when he tried to destroy Don krieg's battle ship, and she is brought to the mansion and make friends with Perona. But she tries to leave when she realizes she has feelings for him and she feels like dead weight. But he catches her trying to sneak out because he's Mihawk, duh.

Okay, but jokes aside, she gets corner by the baboons and Mihawk shows up and they skedaddle. And then flufffff

Thank you for bearing with me for this chonky request.

Stay

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Pairing: Dracule Mihawk x Y/N

Content: Trauma

A/n: This will probably be a series since I want to add pieces that will make it a better story. I hope you enjoy this as much as I did writing this! WC: <3

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In a tumultuous sea battle between the infamous swordsman, Dracule Mihawk, and the notorious pirate Don Krieg, a mysterious figure caught Mihawk's attention amidst the chaos. As Mihawk's blade clashed with Krieg's forces, he noticed a young woman, a former slave.

Her appearance was a stark contrast to the opulent attire and extravagant weapons of the pirates. Yet, despite her disheveled appearance, there was an air of resilience about her. Mihawk couldn't help but be intrigued by this woman, wondering what hardships she had endured and what secrets she held within her.

Unexpectedly, her eyes met his from that far distance, and Mihawk felt himself freeze for a second, captivated by the intensity and determination he saw within her gaze.

He couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to this young woman than met the eye, and he vowed to uncover the secrets she held, even if it meant venturing into uncharted territories.

"Hey! Focus on me!" Don Krieg yelled, releasing at least a hundred missiles at Mihawk.

With a swift movement, Mihawk deflected the bombs with his sword, effortlessly dodging the explosions. He knew he had to concentrate on the battle at hand, but the image of the mysterious woman lingered in the back of his mind, fueling his curiosity.

As Mihawk engaged in a fierce duel with Don Krieg, his sword danced through the chaos, effortlessly parrying each strike with calculated precision. The clash of steel reverberated through the air, echoing the intensity of their struggle.

Mihawk's focus remained unwavering, yet his thoughts kept drifting back to the enigmatic woman, her presence adding an element of intrigue to the already tumultuous battle.

After swiftly dispatching Don Krieg and his forces, Mihawk turned his gaze towards where the young woman had stood, only to find an empty space devoid of any trace of her.

"Where did you go?" He muttered to himself, placing his sword into his scabbard. . . .

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Why is Dracule Mihawk here?! You thought finding cover behind a tree to catch your breath would provide a momentary respite from the chaos. You leaned against the trunk to feel the pointy edges against your back, confirming that this wasn't a dream.

The only time that the ship stopped on land was because of the best swordsman in the world. What luck did you have?

"It's okay," you reassured yourself, "All you have to do is wait it out and run somewhere, anywhere, as long as it's away from here."

"Where are you supposed to run to when it is an isolated island?"

You jumped at the voice behind you and quickly turned around to see Dracule Mihawk sizing you up. His piercing gaze bore into your soul, as if trying to unravel the mysteries hidden within. The thought of running away vanished as you realized that escape was futile in the presence of the world's greatest swordsman.

As he continued to study you, you couldn't help but wonder if there was more to his interest in you than mere curiosity.

"What do you want from me?" you muttered, fear gripping your voice.

The intensity of Mihawk's gaze only deepened as he leaned closer, his words cutting through the tension-filled air, "You're different. There's something about you that intrigues me."

"Are- Are you going to kill me?"

"Why would I? You do not pose a threat towards me," Mihawk answered, taking a small cautious step towards you. "Do you?"

"No!" you blurted out, your voice trembling with fear and confusion. Mihawk's gaze softened slightly as he observed your reaction, a hint of curiosity still lingering in his eyes.

"Good," he said before turning around and walking away, leaving you standing there, still shaken from the encounter. His departure only deepened the mystery surrounding his interest in you, leaving you to ponder the true intentions of the world's greatest swordsman.

As you tried to make sense of Dracule Mihawk's presence on the isolated island, a realization struck you - he must have arrived by some means other than the sinking ship. Perhaps he possessed his own means of transportation.

"Wait!" you yelled, trying to stand up, but your legs felt weak and shaky. Mihawk glanced back briefly, his gaze filled with a mixture of amusement and intrigue.

"Is there a way off this island? Can you help me escape?" you asked, desperation evident in your voice.

Mihawk fully turned around and said, "I have my boat, but it won't be easy. The waters surrounding this island are treacherous, and only a skilled navigator like myself can navigate them safely. If you're willing to take the risk, I can help you escape."

With a glimmer of hope in your eyes, you gather all your courage and reply, "I'm willing to do whatever it takes to get off this island. Please, I'll do anything."

Mihawk replied, his voice tinged with a hint of satisfaction, "Very well. In that case, prepare yourself. Our journey off this island begins now."

Without wasting a moment, you quickly stood up and followed Mihawk, determined to seize this opportunity for freedom.

The anticipation of what lay ahead filled your heart with a mix of excitement and trepidation, as you embarked on a perilous journey alongside the enigmatic swordsman. . . .

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"This is your ship?" you asked, shocked to see the small ship that Mihawk owned. It was nothing like you had imagined, but you didn't have time to dwell on it as Mihawk gestured for you to come aboard.

"This ship may be small, but it's fast and maneuverable," Mihawk explained. "It was originally designed for one person, but I'll made an exception for you. We'll need to make some adjustments to accommodate both of us, but it should suffice for our journey off this island."

You couldn't help but feel a twinge of doubt as you continued to stare at the small ship. It seemed inconceivable that such a modest vessel could withstand the treacherous waters surrounding the island.

Nevertheless, you pushed aside your reservations and reminded yourself that Mihawk was regarded as the world's greatest swordsman for a reason.

You stepped onto the ship and made your way to the back, settling into a small space that had been cleared for you. Mihawk, on the other hand, took his place on the main seat at the front, his eyes fixed on the horizon.

As the ship began to move, you couldn't help but feel a combination of nervousness and anticipation, wondering what awaited you beyond the treacherous waters.

You decided to make yourself as small as possible, curling up in a corner to not take up any space. The gentle rocking of the ship and the soothing sound of the water soon had a calming effect on you, lulling you into a deep sleep.

It was the first time that you had slept for so long without any interruptions.

Either it was because you had to change shifts with another slave or a guard thought that you were too comfortable and decided to give you a massage which left you many bruises on your back.

Though you woke up to the sound of the ground crunching beneath you, you realized with a start that you were no longer on the ship.

You opened your eyes to see that you were being carried by someone. Panic surged through you as you frantically looked around, trying to make sense of your surroundings. It was then that you noticed the familiar face of Mihawk, his expression unreadable as he effortlessly held you in his arms.

"Calm down," Mihawk muttered, his voice soothing and reassuring. "We've reached our destination. You fell asleep on the ship, so I carried you off. We're safe now."

You looked at where they were heading and saw a huge dark castle in the distance, its towering spires piercing the night sky. The sight sent shivers down your spine, as you couldn't help but wonder what mysteries and dangers awaited you within those ominous walls.

"What is that?"

"That's my house," Mihawk said casually, as if mentioning that he owned a small cottage by the seaside.

You couldn't believe your ears as you stared at the imposing castle, realizing that you had just stepped into the lair of the world's greatest swordsman.

"Why are we at your house?"

"Because you need to get bandaged up and I need to rest," Mihawk replied, his eyes scanning the castle's surroundings for potential threats.

"My house is equipped with everything we need to tend to our wounds and recover. Plus, it's the safest place for us right now."

You kept quiet as you saw the castle get bigger and closer, the sense of foreboding intensifying with each step. The eerie silence that enveloped the surroundings only added to your unease, making you question the true nature of Mihawk's "house" and what secrets it held within its walls.

"We're here," he said in a very nonchalantly tone.

As you looked around, you noticed the thick iron door of the castle slowly creaking open, revealing a grand entrance that seemed to lead into the heart of darkness.

Your heart raced with a mixture of fear and curiosity, wondering what awaited you on the other side.

As you entered the castle, the lights switched on by themselves, illuminating the grandeur of the place. The flickering candlelight danced off the intricate tapestries and ancient suits of armor, creating an eerie yet mesmerizing atmosphere. It was clear that this was no ordinary home, but a place steeped in history and power.

"Mihawk! Why are you back so early!" a voice came from inside the castle, echoing through the grand halls. You followed Mihawk's gaze and saw a figure emerging from the shadows, their eyes filled with a mix of surprise and curiosity.

The figure that emerged from the shadows was a woman. With her signature pink hair and a frilly black dress, she exuded an air of both elegance and mischief.

Her wide eyes sparkled with curiosity as she took in the sight of you in Mihawk's arms, clearly intrigued by your presence in their mysterious castle.

"Perona, this is our guest for now, treat her with respect," Mihawk stated firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Perona's eyes widened even further as she assessed you, her curiosity turning into a mischievous smile.

"Oh, how delightful! A new playmate," she exclaimed, her voice dripping with excitement and a touch of malice.

As you tried to process Perona's words, you felt a chilling breeze on your back. Startled, you turned around and to your astonishment, you found yourself being held by a translucent, ghost-like figure instead of Mihawk.

The figure's eyes glowed with an ethereal light as it floated effortlessly, its presence sending a shiver down your spine.

"Come along!" Perona said excitedly, also floating and headed upstairs, her frilly black dress billowing around her.

Reluctantly, you followed Perona, your eyes fixed on the ghostly figure that carried you. Its ethereal presence seemed to be bound to Perona, as if it were her loyal companion in this eerie castle.

As you ascended the stairs, you stole a quick glance down to the first floor, where you had caught a glimpse of Mihawk before. However, to your surprise, Mihawk was nowhere to be seen.

It was as if he had vanished into thin air, leaving you alone with Perona and the mysterious ghostly figure. The air grew colder, and a sense of unease settled over you as you continued to follow Perona deeper into the heart of the castle.

"What's your name?" Perona asked, floating closer to you with a mischievous grin. Her pink hair seemed to glow in the dim light of the castle as she eagerly awaited your response.

"My name is Y/N," you replied, feeling a mixture of apprehension.

"Y/N? That's such a good name," Perona complimented as she continued to float, leading you deeper into the castle. The ghostly figure holding you seemed to emit an eerie glow, its presence becoming increasingly unsettling as you ventured further into the unknown.

Perona finally stopped in front of a door and quickly opened it, getting inside. The ghostly figure followed suit, its ethereal form gliding into the room.

As you stepped into the room, you were immediately captivated by its opulence. The walls were adorned with intricate tapestries, and the furniture was ornately carved with delicate details.

The room was filled with plush cushions, silk curtains, and a grand canopy bed fit for a princess. The soft glow of candlelight illuminated the space, casting a warm and inviting ambiance. It was as if you had stepped into a fairytale, and for a moment, you forgot the eerie presence that had brought you here.

"This is my bedroom," Perona said as the ghost placed you on the edge of her bed.

"It's really nice," you said, speechless of the sight of the room.

Perona chuckled, her mischievous grin widening. "Now let's get you a bath and some new clothes, the ragged look does not fit you," she joked, gesturing towards a luxurious en-suite bathroom.

The thought of a warm bath and fresh attire was tempting, but you couldn't shake off the unsettling feeling that lingered in the air.

As you tried to stand up, your legs did not cooperate with you and started to make you fall. Panic surged through you as you grasped for something to hold onto, but all you could grasp was thin air.

Luckily, Perona was beside you and was able to catch you in time, preventing you from falling to the ground. She held onto you, her ethereal grip providing a surprisingly strong support, and helped you regain your balance.

"Are you okay?" Perona panicked, concern evident in her voice as she held onto you tightly.

"Yeah, I'm alright," you muttered, trying to downplay your momentary loss of balance. But deep down, you couldn't shake off the feeling that something was seriously wrong with your body.

"Let's get you a bath now, maybe that will make you feel better," Perona suggested, guiding you to the bathroom.

The bathroom was an extension of the opulence that permeated the rest of the room. Marble countertops, gilded fixtures, and a large clawfoot bathtub took center stage, surrounded by intricate tilework and a crystal chandelier that sparkled overhead.

Perona guided you into the bath with utmost care, ensuring that you were comfortable every step of the way. She adjusted the water temperature to your liking and gently helped you settle into the luxurious clawfoot bathtub, making sure you were fully supported.

As the warm water enveloped your body, you couldn't help but feel a sense of relief and gratitude for Perona's kind and attentive nature.

Unable to take the silence anymore, you decided to make a joke.

"Is this how you treat all your guests?" you joked, a playful smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you hugged your knees close to you.

"Actually, you're our first guest," Perona said, kneeling beside the bathtub. "But I must say, you're making quite the impression already. We've been waiting for someone like you for a long time."

"What do you mean?" you asked curiously, facing Perona.

"You see, that old man Mihawk has been so lonely for all his life, it was time that he had some love in his life," Perona explained, her voice filled with a mix of sympathy and affection.

"What do you mean?" you said, feeling your face heat up at her words, unsure if you had heard her correctly. Perona's eyes softened as she looked at you, her voice filled with sincerity.

"Mihawk has been searching for a companion, someone to share his life with. And it seems like fate has brought you to us."

"That can't be," you protested, your voice trembling with uncertainty. "He only brought me here because he pitied me since I was the survivor of the fight that he was in. I can't be the companion he's looking for."

Perona's expression remained gentle as she reached out to touch your hand. "Believe me, it's more than just pity," she reassured you. "Mihawk sees something special in you, something that goes beyond mere circumstance."

You kept quiet, thinking deeply about what she said. Did the greatest swordsman in the world really think that about you? Fall in love with a small peasant? No way.

"Let's get you clean first," Perona said, getting the shampoo and rubbing your hair, getting the dirt out.

As she continued to wash your hair, she whispered, "You may doubt it now, but Mihawk's feelings for you are genuine. He sees in you a strength and resilience that he admires, and that's why he brought you here."

As Perona continued to massage your hair, her gentle touch and the soothing sound of the water made you feel incredibly relaxed. Despite your doubts, the weight of the day started to lift off your shoulders, and you couldn't help but feel yourself drifting off to sleep in her caring hands.

"Y/N, Y/N?"

You quickly straightened your back and looked at Perona, trying to shake off the drowsiness. "Yes Perona," you said softly.

"I'm done washing your hair, is my massaging that good?" Perona teased, standing up to stretch her legs and arms.

You blushed and smiled at Perona's playful comment. "Yes, Perona, your massaging is amazing. I've never felt so relaxed before," you admitted, feeling grateful for her presence and the unexpected turn your life had taken.

"My treatment isn't over yet, you need new clothes," Perona said excitedly, running out of the bathroom to find some clothes that would fit you properly.

As you watched her leave, a mixture of curiosity and anticipation filled your heart, wondering what other surprises this new chapter of your life would bring.

Slowly, you got out of the bath and walked over to where the towels were hung from. As you dried yourself, something caught your eye in the mirror; it was your back.

It was a painful reminder of the abuse you had endured throughout your life. The scars crisscrossed your back, telling stories of pain and suffering. As you stared at your reflection, you felt disgust and guilt fill your heart.

How was Perona not disgusted by you? How could you show that to her? She must have pitied me as well.

"Hey Y/N, are you okay?" Perona asked, her reflection showing in the mirror as well, standing at the doorway. She looked at you with genuine concern in her eyes, her expression filled with empathy and understanding.

"Yeah, I'm fine," you said, quickly covering your back with the towel. You didn't want Perona to see the scars and be burdened with your past.

"I've got your outfits ready," Perona informed, her voice filled with excitement. "I picked out some clothes that I think you'll love."

You nodded, walking out of the bathroom and seeing the different outfits on the racks. Perona's taste in fashion was impeccable, and you couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement as you imagined yourself wearing the carefully selected clothes.

Though all of the outfits were dresses, you couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment. As someone who has always been in pants and shirts, you wondered if Perona truly understood your personal style.

Nevertheless, you decided to give the dresses a chance and hoped that they would make you feel as confident and beautiful as Perona saw you.

"Sorry, all I have are dresses."

"It's okay," you assured, taking the first dress and going back to the bathroom.

When you properly looked at the dress, you realized that this was a bad idea. It was a style that you would never choose for yourself. Maybe it was because you are only able to wear one set of clothes - too frilly, too feminine, and completely foreign to you.

But Perona had put so much thought and effort into selecting these outfits for you that you decided to suck it up and wear the dress. You wanted to show her that you appreciated her gesture and were willing to step outside of your comfort zone for her.

Plus, who knows, maybe trying something new could be a positive change for you.

As you looked into the mirror, you couldn't help but feel a sense of shock at the person staring back at you. The dress completely transformed your appearance, making you almost unrecognizable to yourself.

Despite your initial hesitation, you took a deep breath and reminded yourself that sometimes stepping outside of your comfort zone can lead to unexpected growth and self-discovery.

You walked out of the bathroom and immediately looked at Perona for her reaction. Her eyes widened as she took in your appearance, and a wide smile spread across her face. "You look absolutely stunning!" she exclaimed, her excitement evident in her voice.

"Thank you," you replied shyly, grateful for Perona's kind words and validation.

"This is why we need to show you off to Mihawk," Perona stated happily, her eyes gleaming with excitement. You couldn't help but blush at her words, feeling a mix of nervousness and anticipation building up inside you.

Lost in your own thoughts and the rush of confidence from trying something new, you were so absorbed in your own bubble of happiness that you didn't even hear Perona's statement about showing you off to Mihawk.

Then you felt as if you had been picked up again by someone.

Startled, you turned your head to the side and made eye contact with the ghost, who had picked you up once again.

"Let's go," Perona smiled, floating again and led the way. You clung onto the ghost, feeling a mix of excitement and curiosity as you followed her through the halls, eager to see where this unexpected journey would take you.

As you followed Perona through the halls, you couldn't help but admire the grandeur of Mihawk's mansion. The elegant decor and intricate artwork displayed in every corner showcased his impeccable taste.

It didn't take long for Perona to lead you to Mihawk's study room, and as you entered, you were immediately struck by the air of wisdom and power that seemed to emanate from the room.

Mihawk seemed oblivious to your presence, deeply engrossed in the book he was reading. His intense focus and the way he furrowed his brows as he turned the pages only added to his mysterious aura.

"Mihawk, I brought Y/N here," Perona said with a hint of pride in her voice, gesturing towards you. "Doesn't she look stunning?" she exclaimed, treating you as if you were a prized possession on display.

When Mihawk looked up from his book, the both of you had immediate eye contact, and his eyes widened in astonishment at the sight of you.

It was as if time stood still for a moment, and you could feel the intensity of his gaze as he took in your transformed appearance.

Did he not like your dress? Did he not like you getting too close to Perona?

"Perona, can you leave the two of us alone?" Mihawk ordered, his gaze never leaving yours.

Perona then whispered, "Good luck, even though you might not need it. Mihawk has never shown such interest in anyone before. You must have made quite an impression."

Perona nodded and floated out of the room, leaving you alone with the enigmatic swordsman.

The intensity of his gaze made your heart race, and you couldn't help but wonder what thoughts were running through his mind.

"Come sit here," he said, gesturing to the chair beside him.

As the ghost moved, it gently dropped you onto the chair beside Mihawk. You sat in the seat, trying to steady your nerves as you waited for him to speak. The silence in the room was palpable, and you couldn't help but feel a mix of anticipation and uncertainty about what was to come.

Even as you tried to settle into the chair, Mihawk's piercing gaze never wavered.

"Is there something wrong with your legs?"

You turned to him in surprise, your eyes widening at the unexpected question. "No, nothing's wrong with my legs," you replied, slightly puzzled. "Why do you ask?"

"Perona's ghost carried you all the way here,"

"I tripped once and Perona was overreacting by making me get carried," you explained, hoping to alleviate any concerns he might have had.

Mihawk's expression softened ever so slightly as he nodded. "I see," he responded, his voice carrying a hint of curiosity.

The awkward silence hung in the air, amplifying the tension between you and Mihawk. You wondered if there was something more he wanted to say, or if he was simply contemplating the situation. Either way, you couldn't help but feel a mixture of anxiety and anticipation as you waited for him to break the silence.

"You look beautiful by the way," Mihawk said, finally breaking the silence. His compliment caught you off guard, and a blush crept onto your cheeks.

"Thank you," you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper. The sincerity in Mihawk's words sent a wave of warmth through your body, calming your nerves slightly.

"Do you want to stay here?" Mihawk asked, his piercing gaze still fixed on you.

The question caught you off guard once again, and you found yourself searching for the right words to respond, unsure of what staying in this enigmatic swordsman's presence would entail.

"I like it here, but I don't want to intrude," you said, hesitatingly. The words escaped your lips as you tried to convey your mixed feelings of both comfort and reservation in Mihawk's presence.

"You are not intruding at all," Mihawk started, his voice calm and reassuring. "Perona seems to like you, so you can stay as long as you like." The weight of his words lifted some of the uncertainty from your shoulders, allowing you to relax a little more in his presence.

"I- I can stay?" you said, looking at him with surprise, the words escaping your lips before you could fully process them.

Mihawk was surprised by the sudden eye contact but quickly regained his composure and looked back at his book, nodding. It seemed like he was trying to regain his composure and maintain his usual stoic demeanor.

"Thank you," you said, your voice filled with gratitude and a hint of relief. The permission to stay in Mihawk's presence felt like a weight lifted off your shoulders, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of warmth and acceptance in his words.

"Do you like dresses?" he asked, not lifting his eyes off his book. His question caught you off guard again, and you hesitated for a moment before responding, "Well this is my first time wearing something other than ripped clothes. Why do you ask?"

"We can go shopping after you recover, if you'd like," Mihawk suggested, his eyes finally meeting yours.

"I appreciate the offer, but I feel like I would be using you if I accepted. I don't want to burden you or take advantage of your kindness," you said, your voice filled with sincerity and concern.

"You're not burdening me at all," Mihawk reassured, his gaze unwavering. "Helping you is my choice."

"You're very generous," you said, overwhelmed by Mihawk's kindness. The offer to go shopping after your recovery was unexpected, and you couldn't help but feel touched by his willingness to help.

"I understand that nothing can repair all you have gone through," Mihawk replied, his voice filled with empathy.

"You have no idea how much this means to me," you replied, tears welling up in your eyes. "To have someone like you, someone who understands, by my side... I can't thank you enough."

As Mihawk was about to reply, the door opened dramatically and revealed Perona, who had a mischievous smile on her face. "Oh, sorry for interrupting your conversation!" she exclaimed, causing both of you to turn towards her in surprise.

Startled by the sudden movement, you jumped in your seat, your heart racing.

"What do you want?" Mihawk muttered, a sign of anger showing in his tone. His interruption was abrupt, and his gaze shifted from Perona to you, as if silently asking if you were okay.

Perona's mischievous smile grew wider as she said, "I just wanted to let you two know that dinner is ready."

Mihawk sighed and glanced at you apologetically before turning his attention back to Perona. "Thank you for letting us know, Perona. We'll be there shortly," he responded, his voice calm but still carrying a hint of frustration.

Perona nodded, chuckling mischievously before floating away, leaving you and Mihawk alone once again. You took a deep breath, grateful for the brief interruption that allowed your racing heart to calm down.

"Can you walk?" Mihawk asked, placing his book on his desk.

"Yes, I can walk," you replied, relieved that your momentary panic hadn't caused any physical limitations. Mihawk nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. "Good," he said, standing up from his chair. "Shall we head to dinner then?"

"Yes," you said, standing up as well, and you followed Mihawk out of the room, feeling a sense of comfort knowing that he was there to support you.

As you continued to follow him from behind, it reminded you of your life just a few hours ago.

When walking was not a choice at times but a command enforced by cruel guards who would yell, "Walk faster!" while pulling the chains that were wrapped around the necks and arms of the slaves.

You were only able to answer with a 'Yes Master' or a 'Yes sir'. Other than those two, you would be severely punished depending on who heard your wrong answer.

Unfortunately you were a slave that was passed across many ships for all of their lives and you weren't familiar with that rule yet. Your last ship made you do everything in silence, even cry in silence that you even thought you had lost your voice.

The punishment you had to endure in Don Krieg's ship was indescribable. From physical beatings to starvation and isolation, every day was filled with unimaginable pain and suffering.

It was a constant battle for survival, and the fear of making a single mistake haunted your every move.

"Are you coming?" a voice said, making you jump.

Without thinking, you answered with "yes master," your conditioned response from years of slavery.

But as the words left your mouth, you quickly realized where you were and who you were with. The weight of your past life lingered in that moment, reminding you of the scars that still remained, even if they weren't visible.

You quickly corrected yourself, realizing that you were no longer in that dark place. The presence of Mihawk and the safety of his house provided a stark contrast to the horrors you had endured.

His eyes filled with concern as he noticed your sudden startle. "Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," he apologized, extending a hand towards you.

"No, I'm sorry, I should have paid more attention," you said, shaking your head.

The memories of your past sometimes still caught you off guard, but being in Mihawk's presence helped ease the lingering pain.

Feeling a sense of comfort, you slowly wrapped your hand around his arm, finding solace in his presence. It was a small gesture, but it spoke volumes of the trust that was slowly growing between the two of you, helping to heal the wounds of your past.

As you continued to walk in silence, you couldn't help but feel grateful for the freedom you now had. Each step forward was a reminder of how far you had come from the days of bondage and suffering.

Finally, after walking in silence for a few more minutes, you and Mihawk reached the dining room. The sight of the beautifully set table and the aroma of the delicious meal filled the air, instantly making your stomach grumble with anticipation.

As you approached the dining room, Mihawk graciously pulled out the chair on his right side for you. Gratefully, you settled into your seat, ready to indulge in the nourishing meal before you.

Perona then floated in from the kitchen and sat in front of you, her mischievous smile lighting up the room. "I hope you're hungry," she said playfully, her ghostly form exuding an air of excitement.

It was clear that she had put her heart into preparing this meal, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of warmth and belonging in this newfound family.

"Let's dig in, Itadakimasu!" Perona said, sitting down. The words marked the beginning of a joyful feast, as you and Mihawk joined her at the table, savoring the delicious food.

You couldn't help but feel a tinge of embarrassment as you stared at the unfamiliar cutlery in front of you. Forks and knives were foreign objects to you, as you had never used them before.

"What's your dominant hand?"

"Huh," you said, looking at Mihawk. "I'm actually ambidextrous, so I can use either hand."

Mihawk chuckled softly, reaching across the table to hand you a fork. "Well, I guess it's time to learn something new," he said.

You took the fork and stared at it, feeling a mixture of curiosity and nervousness. As you held it in your hand, Mihawk leaned in and gently guided you through the proper way to hold and use it, patiently teaching you the art of dining with cutlery.

As you held the fork for the first time, you couldn't help but feel a sense of unfamiliarity and anticipation. The smooth metal against your fingertips felt foreign yet strangely empowering.

With your heart pounding, you cautiously brought the fork to your lips, trying to mimic Mihawk's guidance.

You fumbled with the fork a few times, dropping food and feeling your face flush with embarrassment. Mihawk and Perona, however, remained patient and encouraging, assuring you that it was completely normal to struggle at first. With each failed attempt, he offered gentle guidance and reassurance, reminding you that learning something new takes time and practice.

With a cautious grip, you tentatively speared a piece of food and raised it to your lips. As the flavors mingled on your tongue, you couldn't help but smile at the small triumph of mastering this new skill, savoring not only the taste of the meal but also the sense of accomplishment that came with it.

You looked at Mihawk in shock, and you could see the slightest smile playing at the corners of his lips. It was as if he had anticipated your reaction and took joy in witnessing your triumph over the unfamiliarity of using cutlery.

"You're a quick learner," Mihawk said with a proud glint in his eyes, rewarding your efforts with a nod of approval.

"Thank you," you replied, feeling a sense of gratitude for Mihawk's patient guidance.

You started to eat, savoring each bite and enjoying the newfound skill of using cutlery. As you looked up, you noticed Perona's gaze fixed on the two of you, her eyes shining with happiness.

"What is it?" Mihawk asked, also noticing Peroma's staring.

"It's- It's nothing!" Perona replied, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. She quickly averted her gaze, pretending to be engrossed in her meal once again.

You found Perona's reaction endearing, her blush adding to the charm of the moment. However, Mihawk scoffed, dismissing her behavior as nothing more than a triviality, before taking a sip of his wine and returning his attention to his meal.

You couldn't help but wonder what was going through his mind, but you decided to focus on enjoying the rest of the meal and savoring the newfound skill of using cutlery.

What would she think if she saw me now? In a fancy dress, at a fancy castle and with fancy people.

You smiled sadly at the thought, knowing that she would never have the opportunity to witness this moment. Her absence was a constant ache in your heart, but you took solace in the fact that you were carrying a piece of her with you, her spirit guiding you through each small triumph and reminding you to cherish every moment.

Mihawk had noticed the sadness behind your smile, but his silence on the matter only deepened the mystery of his thoughts.

The fancy castle exuded an air of grandeur and opulence, with its towering walls adorned with intricate tapestries and sparkling chandeliers illuminating the exquisite dining hall.

The dining hall was a breathtaking sight, with its grand chandeliers casting a dazzling array of light that danced off the polished silverware and fine china.

The walls, adorned with intricate tapestries depicting scenes of ancient battles and noble conquests, added an air of regality to the already opulent space. As you took in the surroundings, you couldn't help but feel a sense of awe and privilege to be in such a luxurious setting.

"So what are we doing tomorrow?" Perona asked curiously, breaking the silence that had settled over the table.

Her question brought you back to the present moment, and you couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement as you thought about the adventures that awaited the next day.

"I will be going out to meet up with someone," Mihawk stated, taking another sip of his wine. His cryptic response piqued your curiosity, leaving you wondering who he was meeting and what plans he had in store.

"Who?" Perona asked, her eyes filled with curiosity as she awaited Mihawk's answer.

"That is none of your business," Mihawk answered, his tone curt and final.

The air around the table grew tense as Perona's curiosity clashed with Mihawk's guarded demeanor, leaving you caught in the middle, torn between wanting to know the answer and respecting Mihawk's privacy.

"Oh well, that means the house is all to us," Perona cheered to you, her excitement palpable.

You couldn't help but smile, grateful for her lightheartedness in the midst of the tension. It was a reminder that even in moments of uncertainty, there was still joy to be found.

As the evening wore on, you and Perona continued to share stories from your past, exchanging tales of adventure and hardship. Mihawk remained a silent but attentive presence, his gaze fixed on you both as he listened intently to every word.

It was a rare moment of vulnerability and connection, as you realized that despite his guarded demeanor, Mihawk was genuinely interested in getting to know you on a deeper level.

It would not be too difficult for you to get used to this, you thought to yourself. . . .

══✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿════✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿══

You woke up trapped on a slave ship, embarking on a harrowing journey of torture and suffering. As you lay restlessly in your sleep, you found yourself waking up in a familiar place.

It was a dark and damp room, with shackles tightly binding your ankles and wrists. Panic consumed you as you realized you were a prisoner on a slave ship.

As you slowly regained consciousness, you noticed a group of guards surrounding you. They were cruel and merciless, their faces etched with twisted desires. Each guard carried a whip, which they eagerly used to inflict unimaginable pain upon your flesh.

So it was a dream, you thought sadly, remembering the feeling of being in a majestic dress in a castle with Mihawk and Perona.

As you got up to the yelling of the guards, you realized that the dream was just a temporary escape from the harsh reality of your situation. The pain in your limbs and the stench of the ship's hold reminded you that you were still a captive, desperate for freedom.

The guards showed no mercy as they tormented you. They would strike you with whips, leaving welts upon your body. The whips were adorned with sharp metal spikes, causing excruciating pain with every lash. The guards laughed and taunted you, reveling in your suffering.

It became clear that the guards' sadistic pleasure was their primary objective. They enjoyed inflicting pain purely for their own amusement. Their laughter echoed through the ship, reminding you of your helplessness.

As the days turned into weeks, the slave ship continued on its journey. The stench of sweat and fear filled the air. The guards kept us confined in cramped, unsanitary conditions. We were subjected to constant hunger and thirst, our bodies ravaged by disease and malnutrition.

Your suffering was unrelenting and, as we sailed further, our despair only grew stronger. . . .

══✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿════✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿══

You woke up sweating profusely from the nightmare, your heart pounding in your chest. The vividness of the dream left you shaken, unable to shake off the feeling of despair and hopelessness that had consumed you from your nightmare.

You looked around and saw you were in a fancy yet empty room. The grandeur of the furnishings contrasted sharply with the emptiness of the space, leaving you with a sense of eerie solitude.

The silence was deafening, and you couldn't help but question whether this was another illusion, or if there was a glimmer of hope for escape after all.

You remembered how Perona showed you to this guest room last night, assuring you it would be a safe place to rest and you could decorate it later.

You then slowly got up from your bed and made your way to the door as you walked slowly. As you turned the handle, a rush of anticipation filled your veins. The creaking of the door echoed through the empty hallway, and you cautiously stepped outside, your heart pounding with a mix of fear and determination.

The moon hung high in the sky, casting an eerie glow over the deserted grounds. The stillness of the night was unsettling, as if the whole world was holding its breath in anticipation. The moon cast an ethereal glow on the desolate landscape, illuminating the path ahead.

The late hour meant that Perona was likely to be asleep but you were unsure of Mihawk. You weren't able to identify any sleepiness from him during dinner unlike Perona, who was complaining about how she needed her beauty sleep for one hour until you volunteered to wash the dishes for her.

As you tiptoed down the corridor, every step was carefully calculated to avoid making any noise. The silence enveloped you, amplifying the sound of your own breathing.

You knew that any sudden noise could alert Mihawk to your presence, and the consequences of being caught were too dire to contemplate.

Your heart skipped a beat as you heard the faint sound of footsteps echoing from downstairs.

Your mind raced with possibilities, wondering who could be roaming the house at this hour. Could it be Perona, unable to sleep and wandering aimlessly? Or perhaps it was Mihawk, patrolling the premises to ensure the safety of his guests.

The unknown nature of the situation only heightened your anxiety, and you knew that you had to proceed with extreme caution.

Despite knowing that it was wrong, your curiosity got the better of you, and you couldn't resist the urge to explore the castle further. The allure of the unknown beckoned you, and you silently made your way towards the source of the footsteps, determined to uncover the secrets that lay hidden within the walls.

You made it to the grand staircase without any disturbance, its grandeur and elegance captivating you as you ascended each step. The soft moonlight streaming through the stained glass windows added an ethereal touch to the scene, casting colorful patterns on the marble floor below.

As you walked down the stairs, the footsteps grew louder, echoing through the empty hallways. The sound resonated with an eerie intensity, sending shivers down your spine and intensifying your sense of unease.

When you reached the end of the stairs, a figure emerged from the shadows, completely unaware of your presence. Their footsteps faltered for a moment as they glanced around, their eyes scanning the surroundings with a mixture of caution and curiosity.

The figure standing before you was none other than the legendary swordsman, Dracule Mihawk. Clad in his signature black attire, Mihawk exuded an aura of mystery and power. His long, flowing black hair framed his chiseled face, accentuating his piercing, hawk-like eyes that seemed to hold a depth of knowledge and experience beyond measure.

The sharp angles of his jawline and the confident set of his shoulders portrayed a man who was both formidable and unyielding. As he moved with grace and precision, his black cape billowed behind him, adding an air of elegance and drama to his every step.

It was clear that this was a man who commanded respect and demanded attention wherever he went.

You had always heard stories of Mihawk's fearsome reputation and his unmatched swordsmanship, but now, as you looked at him up close, you couldn't help but notice his striking features.

His sharp eyes softened as they met yours, revealing a glimmer of curiosity.

The harsh lines of his face seemed to soften, revealing a hidden attractiveness that you had never noticed before. Despite the air of mystery and power that surrounded him, you couldn't help but find yourself drawn to his handsome and enigmatic presence.

"Y/N, what are you doing awake so late?" Mihawk asked as he fully faced you, his voice carrying a mix of surprise and concern. His piercing gaze remained fixed on you, as if trying to unravel the mystery behind your presence in his grand mansion.

You stumbled for words, caught off guard by his sudden attention, unsure whether to reveal the truth or come up with a plausible excuse.

Finally, you mustered the courage to respond, "I couldn't sleep, and I couldn't resist the allure of exploring this magnificent place."

Mihawk's gaze lingered on you for a moment, his expression unreadable. "Curiosity can be a dangerous thing," he murmured, his voice low and filled with a hint of warning.

"I understand the risks," you replied, meeting Mihawk's gaze with determination.

Mihawk nodded before gesturing you to come over, "Y/N, come here," he said, his voice holding a touch of intrigue. As you stepped closer to him, you couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement mixed with apprehension. What could he possibly want with you?

As you got close enough, Mihawk slowly reached for your hand, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. His grip was firm yet gentle, as if he held something precious.

"I'll be back before tomorrow evening, but if you have any problems, just call me on this," he whispered, his voice tinged with a hint of reassurance.

As he released your hand, a mix of anticipation and uncertainty filled the air. With the Transponder Snail now in your possession, you couldn't help but wonder what awaited you in the coming hours.

You watched as Mihawk opened the door, said goodbye before walking into the forest. The sound of his footsteps faded into the distance, leaving you standing there, holding the Transponder Snail in your hand, filled with a mix of excitement and trepidation about the adventures that lay ahead.

Feeling tired, you closed the door and headed back to bed, placing the Transponder Snail on the desk close by.

The events of the evening replayed in your mind, and as sleep finally claimed you, you couldn't help but wonder where Mihawk was going, and how you would be involved. . . .

══✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿════✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿══

"Good afternoon Hawkeyes Mihawk, what honour do I have for you to be here today?"

"I have something that might interest you, Garp."

"And what might that be?"

"Have you ever heard of a devil fruit that allows the user to control its own aura and even the aura from other living beings?"

"No, I haven't. Tell me more," Garp replied, his curiosity piqued. . . .

══✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿════✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿══

Part 2?

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latenightdaydreams · 2 days

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Please do part 2 of Mechanic Konig. I'm begging you!!! Your writing is AMAZING! I have to reread your writing every day because I can't get over it 😩

Thank you!!! I'll be writing a lot more this week, so there will be more! I finally made a part 2!!! I hope you enjoy!!🥰

Mechanic!König x Reader Part 2 (fem)

MDNI🔞

Part 1 here! 🚗

Master List!

>cw: fem/afab, pregnancy, p in v, oral

1.4k word count

You sit in your car holding your newest ultrasound pictures. You made a last-minute appointment to see the doctor assuming you might have the flu, but being a few days late on your cycle the doctor asked for you to take a pregnancy test. Once it came back positive you were sent to the women’s health center for an ultrasound. You’ve been celibate for almost a whole year, other than your random hook up with that mechanic… You let out a long sigh before driving off.

You pull up in front of his shop, putting the ultrasound photos in your purse before stepping out of the car. Walking up to the open garage door, it’s almost like déjà vu. There König is wearing a white shirt and jeans, covered in oil. He looks up and meets your gaze for a split second before he looks down, realizing who he just saw, his head snaps back up.

“Y/n?” König speaks softly as if surprised to actually see you again. The last few weeks you’re all he has been able to think about. He’s been waiting for you to call or show back up and now here you are. His eyes drift down your body, taking in how amazing you look, and back to your eyes.

“Hi, König.” You walk closer into the garage. “Are you busy right now?”

“No,” he gently shakes his head. He closes the hood of the car he was working on and grabs a rag to clean his hands off. “Do you want to go to my car?”

Yes, you think to yourself, but you came here to talk. “No, I think we should talk.”

König tilts his head when you say no. He drops the dirty rag on the bench behind him and he looks at your cleavage again before back to your eyes.

“Is your car running okay?”

“Yes, its fine.”

“So, what is it?” He leans back as his blue eyes keep glossing over your body. All he can think about is how good you felt and looked naked in the back of his car.

“Um, so, I went to the doctors today.” The word doctor piquing his interest. “And she did a few tests on me…” You stall nervously not knowing how to tell him. What if he reacts poorly?

“Are you pregnant?” König asks, hurrying your story along.

“I am,” you nod softly, “I have ultrasound photos.”

“You do?” He perks up. “How far along are you?”

“11 weeks,” you go into your bag and pull out the ultrasound photos.

König quickly steps forward and grabs them from you. His eyes glued to the image of a tiny fetus shown on the ultrasounds. He studies every photo, a flood of emotions rushing through him at this moment. He can’t believe he actually got you pregnant.

“I came to be responsible and tell you. I don’t know what I’m going to do-” he cuts you off.

“I said that I would support the both of you and I meant it.” His eyes meet yours. “I have a big house, I make great money, and you’ll never have to work again Schatzi. You can just focus on raising our baby.”

You don’t say anything as you stand there taking in what he has said. Supporting a whole family is a huge responsibility. You don’t even know him, could you really build a life with him?

“You laid down with me, you let me get you pregnant. Please, let me take care of you. Both of you.” He reaches a hand out and gently caresses your upper arm. His eyes showing genuine intent as they fall to your stomach even though you aren’t even close to showing yet.

“We don’t even know each other…”

“We will learn,” He looks back down at the ultrasound photos in his hand. “Please.”

König runs his large hands over your swollen stomach, softly holding it as his eyes watch your growing breast bouncing. Your nipples have darkened and areolas enlarged. You’ve even been gaining weight, making your thighs and ass bigger. Your changing body is a beautiful sight to behold and it’s changing all because of him. Small moans of pleasure leaving his lips as he watching you eagerly bounce on his cock. Since you entered your second trimester, your hormones have been all over the place making you extremely horny. König is loving every second of it.

“König,” you whimper his name out as you feel yourself getting ready to reach your third orgasm.

“Ja, Liebing, there you go, let it out.”

He moves one of his hands down and begins to rub your sensitive clit with his thumb. He moves in slow focused circles making your legs begin to tremble. You slow down and lean forward slightly, letting out loud moans as your velvety walls flutter around his cock. König takes deep breaths and tries to focus his mind to not cum yet, he knows you aren’t done. Once he feels your body relax, he moves his hand away from your clit.

He gently lifts your body and leans back, grabbing a pillow and putting it under your head before laying you down gently. His eyes roam down your body as he bends down to lick your nipples, softly sucking on them as he feels your fingers comb through his short hair. He lines his cock up with your entrance and pushes himself back into you, mouth still latched to your breast.

“Oh yes, please.” You push his head away so he can sit up. “Fuck me harder.”

König nods his head as his hands wrap around your thick thighs, he pulls your legs apart and back making sure to be careful with your baby bump. König can’t believe how beautiful you look; how tight your cunt feels. He can’t believe how he got so lucky with you.

Your eyes trace the shape of his muscular body, seeing how his muscles flex under the light sheen of sweat covering his body. Your hands gripping the bedsheets as he fills your small cunt completely. You feel euphoric burst of pleasure every time he thrust forward; you clench down on him. König lets out a loud moan in response.

“Meine Liebe, I’m going to cum.” König’s voice cracks as he doesn’t slow his motion. His toes curling and eyes fluttering.

“No, please don’t stop, I’m not done yet.” You pant, feeling your next orgasm just beginning to build.

“Es tut mir Leid,” König chokes out as his hands drop your legs and move up to your full breast and squeezes them. His motion slows as his cock throbs inside of you.

Once he finishes, he pulls out and drops to his stomach, placing his head between your legs. He begins to lick your clit, his tongue flicking back and forth causing you to squirm and moan softly. One hand rest on you stomach as the other pushes two fingers into your cunt full of his cum. Curling his fingers up, he begins to finger you, quickly moving his arm. He tastes the mixture of your creamy cunt and his salty seamen.

“Right there, please don’t stop.” You moan in a whiney tone; König loves to hear it.

He doesn’t stop as his lips wrap around your swollen clit and sucks. His fingers rubbing against your g-spot rapidly as your back arches. Listening to you moan out his name as your squeeze his head between your plump thighs he lets out a satisfied groan into your cunt. Finally, you orgasm, he licks long laps up and down your pussy before pulling his fingers out.

He looks up and smiled at you as you lay there catching your breath. He has an air of arrogance about him, being able to make you cum so many times.

“I’m going to go clean up Liebling, I’ll be back with a towel to clean you too.” König leans in and kisses your belly before standing from the bed and going to the bathroom,

Once he was all clean, he grabbed a towel and began to walk back to you in the bedroom. Once there he sees you fast asleep, cuddling the blanket. König can’t help but to smile. He leaves the towel at the edge of the bed and tries to cover you the best he can without waking you up.

König decides to get dressed and goes to the nursery to continue painting, what he was doing before you ask to be fucked. He opens up the can of paint and pours some in the tray. Getting the roller covered in paint, he begins to cover the last white wall in the room with a pale pink color.

#konig #konig x y/n #konig cod #konig x reader #könig #könig x reader #konig smut #könig smut #könig cod #könig mw2 #konig x you #konig x reader smut #cod konig #könig call of duty #könig x reader smut #könig x y/n #könig x you

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morgy-doo · 3 days

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school bus graveyard realtionship headcannons

^ such cuties

Ashlyn Banner~

insanely protective

when you are in the phantom dimension this girl is mostly focused on making sure you don't get hurt/die

keeps you away from Aiden in that dimension so you don't end up getting roped into something stupid

Altho she isn't the most affectionate person, she will grab your hand and squeeze it tightly when she is nervous

she begrudgingly...after ALOT of begging, allowed you to play with her hair, when it is undone it is super wavy from being in those plaits all day

if you every get seriously hurt/die in the demon dimension, she will act calm and collected at first, but then totally lose it

she wont cry until she is alone of course

refuses to leave you alone until she knows you are better

after that she doesn't let you leave her sight

she just wants to keep you safe and close to her

Aiden Clark~

your more of a mother/father than a girlfriend/boyfriend-

CONSTANTLY bouncing off the walls

literally-

at one point in your relationship he would tell you he had a cute date planned....you had no idea that it was skydiving

he loved it

you not so much

in the phantom dimension he is using you to back him up in arguments

and he definatley tries to show off for you at one point

when they get locked in the mental assylum, he paints his face as you instead of the clown because why not

he found it endearing, you found it absolutely terrifiying

if you die then he will go silent, not as energetic or bouncy until he knows you are okay again, he constantly brings you things to entertain you with while in the hospital

he just wants you to never get bored of him

Ben Clark~

the most sweetest boyfriend ever

he will buy you flowers out of nowhere just to see you smile

sometimes he feels bad that he cannot say how much he loves you verbally

constantly has hand cramps from writing huge paragraphs about his love for you

the type of boyfriend to just pick you up and hug you when you are mad

you help him calm down when his temper starts to flare up

he really enjoys doing soothing activities with you such as pottery, painting, and baking

he is AMAZING at baking

he loves making you food

in the phantom dimension he likes to have you on his back

to reassure him that you are still there and safe, and also as a way to have quick access to you when you are in danger

if you die in the phantom dimension he will have this deeply disturbed look on his face

he honestly looked after you better than the doctor did

he brought you home cooked meals, your clothes, some things to cheer you up

he wants you to feel loved and to know that he will always be there for you even though you cannot hear him say it

Taylor Hernandez~

such a sweetie

she is so good at reading your feelings and can tell when you are upset/ when something is bothering you

she has pictures of you two together all over her wall so she always has something of you with her

she loves matching outfits with you

she 100% owns a shirt that says "i love my boyfriend/girlfriend" and has no shame in wearing it

she has this ritual where she kisses each picture of you before bed each night and saying "i love you y/n" over an over until she has kissed each picture

Tyler was just stood in the doorway of the room terrified-

in the phantom dimension you both make a vow to protect each other

and she will protect you with her LIFE is she has too

if you die in the phantom dimension she would never forgive herself

she would think its her fault as she didn't stick to her side of the vow

she let you get hurt

will sob infront of everyone

honestly needs more comfort then you do

when you are on the road to recovery tells you all these silly stories about her and Tyler to see you smile

she wants you to never leave her

Tyler Hernandez~

this one is a mixed bag

lets just say you will be very aware when he has entered the room

you slowly help him start to enjoy baseball again

he invites you to practice to show you off to his team

you are now lumped into his protection pile

congratulations, you are now one of his top priorities

he wont say it very often, but he adores you

and he misses you very much when you aren't around

he plays guitar for you when he is feeling especially loving, he teaches you the songs his dad taught him

when you are in the phantom dimension he gets very angry very easily

he is just so overwhelmed and worried about keeping you AND Taylor safe.

he is terrified he would of failed in his job of protecting you

if you die in the other dimension he would be angry at everyone but mostly at himself

he would close off, he wouldn't speak to anyone and he ends up flunking some of his classes to see you at the hospital

he is very aggressive to everyone else but when you are getting better at the hospital he is all gentle smiles and sweet tones

he owes it to you for letting you down

he wants to be able to feel that he can provide and protect you

Logan Fields~

he thinks he doesn't deserve you

why would you pick someone small and pathetic when you can have the full package like Tyler

despite his self doubts he treats you as best as he can

he is the most cliche person ever

has definately watched the sun set with you

study dates are a must

you both defo have this little potted flower that you have "raised" together

he tells you ALL about flowers as he has alot of knowledge about them

when you are in the phantom dimension he always has this dreaded feeling sitting in his stomach

as if he knows something is gonna happen to you and he wont be able to stop it

the feeling would eat him up inside

if you die in the phantom dimension, he would be determined to be the reason you got better, that it wouldn't happen again

he wants you to view him as worthy of your love, and he would do almost anything to earn that

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geopsych · 2 days

Text

Mother Earth Season

Earth Day is tomorrow so here is my annual post. It's long but I mean it with all my heart. Everything we are, everything we own, everything that makes up our family, our lovers, our pets, our houses, ships at sea, planes in the air, shopping centers, factories, cities, computers, and, of course, all of the diversity and glory of nature, comes from the Earth. We have Earth Day, when we talk about problems with the Earth and try to fix them, but it's time for us to celebrate the beauty, glory, and nurturing of the Earth and show our thanks for this source of everything. Let's celebrate the time between Earth Day and the day the U.S. celebrates as Mothers Day as Mother Earth Season, a time to look at, appreciate, and celebrate everything wonderful and amazing about the earth and the living things on it. Find wonderful things in nature and show them to other people. Take an older person out of the nursing home for a picnic or a drive through the woods. Tell children stories of remarkable and beautiful places, animals, plants, or events in nature that you saw before they were born. Give nature parties, play nature-related music, dance, paint pictures, write poems, share photographs about nature and, most of all, take walks. Get up early to see the sunrise light on everything and take pictures, or not, find out when and where to see the Pleiades rise and set. Look at the landscape from hills, take paths along streams and into glens. Sit in a beautiful place with someone you love or sit and remember deeply someone you loved. Take it all in and share it with others! Most of all, take time to feel happy to be alive on this beautiful earth and let yourself feel wonder. Feel the joy of being on this living planet. Tell the Earth how amazing she is and that you're glad she's given you this time here. If these were your last days, what would you want to say to this, your home and source that gave you everything you've ever known, including your self? As Mister Eckhart said, "If the only prayer you ever say in your entire life is thank you, it will be enough." And as Rumi is quoted, "Let the beauty we love be what we do. There are hundreds of ways to kneel and kiss the ground."

#long post #text #mother earth season #earth day #thank you #wanishi wanishi wanishi #write poems the earth needs way more poems right now!

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missmastectomy · 3 days

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I was hesitant to write this post, but I want to talk about why so many women and teenage girls are getting double mastectomies.

The justification a lot of trans people use for elective double mastectomies is that "top surgery" helps people feel comfortable in their bodies. Traditionally, this surgery was restricted to transmen. In the recent decade, however, nonbinary identified and even non-trans identified women have been getting mastectomies. I remember clear as day when my coworker (who identified as a "cis" woman) told me that at 18 she was planning on saving for top surgery. I myself got my breasts removed when I identified as nonbinary, having been on testosterone for 2 years.

It's important to remember that no person is born wanting surgery. Society creates conditions that are hostile to women, GNC, and gay people, and this hostility encourages a dissociated state. The body is removed from the mind - instead of the body being an intrinsic part of your personhood, a mechanism through which we experience the world, it instead becomes ornamental. This is perfectly represented by all forms of non-reconstructive cosmetic surgery, which risk people's health for entirely aesthetic reasons.

So, why do teen girls want to remove their breasts? For those of who experienced unwanted sexual advances from a young age, the answer is intuitive. Breasts are inherently sexualized. They are not seen as a vital organ that contributes to bodily function and health, but as a decoration, the only purpose of which is to attract men and feed babies. In this way, a woman's breasts do not even belong to her. When men openly gawk at a woman without a bra, when relatives grope at her as a pubescent girl, when we are exposed to an endless stream of hyper-sexualized images of women with their cleavage out, a message is sent loud and clear: existing in a female body is unsafe.

I want to make it very clear that an elective mastectomy and the practices of breast ironing are very different, but there are commonalities in the attitudes behind both. Breast ironing is done to pubescent girls in order to "prevent" her being sexually assaulted or harassed by men, sometimes including male relatives. When I hear stories of girls in the West starving themselves and binding to hide their chests, I can't help but see similarities. When I was binding and restricting calories as a 15 year old, I would have said I was doing it so that I could pass as a man. But I would have been lying to you. I was lying to myself. I didn't hate my breasts because I was "born in the wrong body." I hated my breasts because they were used to justify my sexualization. From my perspective they put me in danger.

We often hear that women's rights in the West have been secured, but you need only look at the war on women's bodies to see that that is a fantasy. When young girls constantly receive the messaging that your curves and boobs WILL attract men and that you will be objectified for it, many will try to opt out.

Take Liv Hewson, for example.

She says herself that her anorexia was a manifestation of "gender dysphoria," but the question remains - where did this dysphoria come from? Why would anorexia develop as an outlet for it? What makes more sense: a young woman was born hating her body and her breasts because she has a gendered, non-female soul, or that same woman hates her body because she has been conditioned as such by a patriarchal society, the same society that encourages extreme self harm and body modification through a multi-billion dollar cosmetic industry?

Gender dysphoria in young women needs to be demystified. It's not special, it's not unique. It is NOT evidence that she needs invasive surgery or steroids to feel comfortable in her body. It is evidence that she is in pain. In order to address the rising rate of transition in young women, we must first acknowledge the conditions that nurture this form of self-hatred.

Transition IS a feminist issue. It is just as relevant in Western feminism as tackling the beauty industry, female sexualization, and violence perpetrated against women through porn. All of these issues are deeply interconnected. When we approach dysphoric women with compassion and encourage them to perceive their bodies as a part of themselves that deserves to remain intact and whole, rather than as their enemy, we take a necessary step towards female liberation.

#detrans #detransition #gender critical #radical feminists do touch #radical feminist safe #radical feminists do interact #radical feminism #misogny #anorexia #sexism #transition #trans issues

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puckinghischier · 8 hours

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Tattoos Together

Nico Hischier x fem!reader

summary: based off of the song tattoos together by lauv

notes: this idea was way better in my head, but i still think it’s cute and turned out alright. i’m obsessed with this song and knew i just had to write a nico fic based off of it asap. also, i know the timeline is all over the place bc nico is captain in this, and holtzy and dawson are here, but it technically takes place after jack’s rookie season. the beauty of fiction is that literally nothing is real, so let’s just all pretend everything is normal and chronologically correct 😊. hope you enjoy!! :)

[2.7k]

Summer was your favorite season for a number of reasons. First of all, you loved the warm weather. Being able to sit outside and soak up the sunshine was something your body desperately craved during the bitter New Jersey winters. You also loved the overall happiness of the general population that seemed to radiate during the summer months. Your favorite reason, however, was the fact that your best friends were always available to do whatever you wanted them to, because hockey isn’t played in the summer.

You hated that the Devils didn’t make the playoffs this year. You were as devastated as they were during that last game of the season, but you can’t lie and say you weren’t also ecstatic. You knew, the moment they lost the game that eliminated them from any sort of play off position, you were going to get a summer full of sun and fun at the lake house.

You had decided to take the warm season off from any internships or courses, not wanting anything to come in-between you and nearly four, uninterrupted months with your boys at the lake. You had decided to transfer to a college in Jersey so you could spend more time with Jack, not so you could stay in a strange city while all of your friends go to your favorite place on earth.

This year was especially exciting, considering Jack had convinced a group of his teammates to join in on the summer antics. Your anticipation for the warmer weather to arrive was only heightened once you learned a certain hockey captain would also be in attendance at the lake house.

You had been drawn to Nico from the first moment you met him after Jack’s rookie debut. Jack was so eager to introduce the two of you. He had made quick friends with the Swiss player after his arrival in the garden state and he wanted nothing more than his oldest and newest friend to meet one another and hit it off. Nico gave short, but kind, responses when Jack called you over to speak to him outside of the locker room; you assumed he was just tired and wanted to get home, but once you had seen him leaning against the wall in a crowded bar a few hours later, you made it your mission to make a friend out of the quiet hockey player.

You found yourself enjoying his conversation a little too much, basically neglecting Jack on his big night. The two of you talked about anything and everything. Nico had been in the middle of a story about his siblings back home when you suddenly realized the danger you were in. You hadn’t even been around this man for more than a few hours, and you could feel yourself falling for him. His kind eyes, the deep dimples when he smiled, and the care and attention he showed every single person that came up to congratulate him on the win, while also never failing to listen to your stories and stay engaged in the conversation with you, was making you spiral in the best way.

You knew you couldn’t go there, though. He was a big shot hockey captain, and you were only here for school. With the team’s busy schedule, you didn’t know when you would see him again. As soon as the light feeling in your chest had appeared, you forced it to make its exit. You couldn’t fall for him. You wouldn’t let yourself fall for him.

Over the next few months, however, you found yourself in Nico’s presence more often than not. Any team event that Jack dragged you to, you always found your way to where Nico was, striking up innocent, friendly conversation. If you were attending a home game at the Prudential Center, you were always cheering for Nico anytime he made a particularly important or skillful play. When he would come over to yours and Jack’s shared apartment, you always had some excuse for needing to be in the kitchen when they were, or passing through the living room and then planting yourself on the couch between the two ‘out of boredom’.

Nico wasn’t making it easy for you, either. Anytime the captain would score on the ice, it was you he was pointing towards during his celebration (or sending a text to ask if you were watching as soon as he was in the locker room for intermission, if it was an away game). If he had plans with Jack he would always send you a message, inviting you to tag along. Nico had even memorized your class schedule and your coffee order, bringing you your caffeine fix on lecture mornings when he would pick Jack up for morning skate. You found yourself talking to Nico almost more than you spoke to Jack, finding it harder and harder to keep your promise to yourself.

Jack could sense the underlying feelings you had for his captain, being able to pick up on all of your tells from the many years of friendship. He saw the way your gaze would immediately start sweeping any room you entered until it settled on Nico. He pretended not to notice the way you would always come out of your room on the mornings Nico was coming by before practice, hair and make-up already done, sitting in the kitchen to ‘work on homework’ before your lectures. He noticed when you bought his captain’s jersey, alternating between the 13 and 86 jerseys every other game. He noticed the way you would instantly perk up at the mention of Nico’s name in any conversation.

Jack also noticed the way Nico tried, and failed, to hide the feelings he had for you, as well. He noticed the way Nico would skate out for warm-ups and look around the glass until he saw you, waiting a few minutes before he made his way over to the glass where you were standing, pretending to be surprised when he turned around and found you behind him. Jack noticed the way Nico suddenly wanted to always come over to his apartment instead of Jack going to what the team refers to as the ‘captain’s quarters’. He noticed the way Nico would always come back with your favorite cocktail in hand anytime you were with them on a night out.

The back and forth between you and Nico continued for months, neither one of you ever taking the next step to admit feelings for one another. Jack wished the two of you would just get it over with at this point, the inevitable apparent to everyone but yourselves. So, when Jack opened the lake house invitation to Nico, Alex, and Dawson this summer, he can’t lie and say he didn’t have some ulterior motives.

Now, as you and Nico walked ahead of everyone else, lost in your own little world, he knew he made the right decision.

You had just eaten dinner, Jack having made reservations at a local seafood place he was dying to take everyone to, when you announced you wanted ice cream. You had suggested the small ice cream shop a short walk from the restaurant, wanting to stay out in the small lake town a little bit longer. You had sat next to Nico at dinner, staying in your own conversation most of the meal, being brought into the larger conversation happening around you only if either of your names were mentioned. The conversation followed the two of you outside, talking about his upcoming trip home.

“So, when are you leaving this utopia?” You asked him, shoulders bumping as you walked on the sidewalk beside him, a car driving by, causing your sundress to ruffle and flow in the passing wind.

“Not until the end of the month. Why? Can’t wait to get rid of me?” he responds with a playful smile, putting his hand on your back, pushing you over to the inside of the sidewalk, placing himself closest to the active road beside of you.

“Not even close,” you link your pinky with his, a habit you’ve gotten into anytime you’re walking beside him. “Dreading the day, actually. This is your first summer here, and you don’t even get to experience the best part!”

“I thought the best part was that you were here?” he references the statement you made when trying to convince him to make the trip to Michigan for the summer.

“Well, the next best part,” you respond, waving off his words. “You’re going to miss the boat parade on the Fourth of July!”

“A…boat parade?” Nico questions.

“Yes! A boat parade! Everyone decorates their boats and then drives them around the lake. Everyone here goes crazy for it. People don’t spare a single expense when it comes to boat decorations. One family even paid those statue street performers to play Uncle Sam and Lady Liberty on their boat on year,” you explain, earning a laugh from Nico.

“Why do I have the feeling you would have done that if you thought of it first?” he asks in-between chuckles.

“Because I would’ve! I was so mad that I didn’t even think of it. The only year we haven’t won it. Well, other than the years we haven’t been able to make it up here,” you shrug, thinking of all the time you’ve missed out on in the past few years.

“Well, you’ll have to come up with something even crazier this year. To make up for all the lost time,” Nico squeezes your pinkies closer together, knowing how much you hate the summers you can’t come here. “Look, you could go get a tattoo of the American flag, or something. Decorate your body, not just your boat. Really commemorate the summer,” he points to the tattoo shop you’re walking past, laughing at the craziness of the idea.

Maybe it was the heat finally getting to you. Maybe it was all the lake water you had swallowed the past few weeks. Or maybe it was the build-up of the months worth of feelings you’ve had for the man in front of you, but something in you made you say “Let’s go do it.”

“What?” Nico stopped in his tracks, looking over at you like you had three heads.

“I said let’s do it,” you said again, a serious look on your face.

“As in let’s go let you get a tattoo of the American Flag?” he asked again, confirming the idea forming in your brain.

“Yes. Well, I mean no. But yes,” you start, letting go of his pinky you were still holding on to. “I mean, let’s go get tattoos to commemorate the summer, like you said.”

“Like…right now?”

“Yes, right now. Why not? It’ll be fun. At the very least it’ll be a story to tell one day,” you try to convince him, acting as if this isn’t the most out of character thing you could suggest.

“I mean, what would we even get?” Nico asks, the word ‘no’ never coming out of his mouth.

“I don’t know, whatever you want. It doesn’t have to be anything big. Or anywhere where everyone will see it. It can just be something we know we have, y’know?” you continue to try to convince him.

“Hey! Why’d you two stop? The ice cream shop is another block down.” Jack asks as the rest of the group approaches the two of you.

“Y/N is trying to convince me to go get a tattoo with her right now,” Nico tells everyone, earning a collection of shocked faces.

“You two? Getting matching tattoos?” Dawson asks, looking between the two of you.

“They don’t have to be completely matching. Just something to make us thinks of this moment. This summer,” you explain. “We could all get one, actually. As a group!”

“You’re out of your mind if you think any of us are getting tattoos right now,” Jack speaks up, not scared to call you out on your stupid ideas.

“I don’t think it’s that crazy of an idea. It could be fun,” Nico surprises everyone.

“Cap, are you serious? You’re thinking about going and getting a tattoo right now?” Alex questions.

“I’ve been thinking about getting another one for awhile now, so why not right now? Like she said, it’s a good summer memory, Holtzy” Nico shrugs, sounding like he’s made up his mind.

“Of course you would agree to get a matching tattoo with her. You guys are practically attached at the hip anyways,” Dawson says, causing both you and Nico to flush a light shade of pink. “You guys go have your fun, get matching tattoos, but we’ll be eating ice cream, loving the taste of no regrets,” Dawson gives up the fight.

“Just…don’t get each other’s names on your foreheads,” Jack says, shaking his head as he walks away.

Dawson and Alex follow Jack, grumbling about how they can’t believe you’re actually going to do this. Alex slides in a “at least ask her on a date first, cap” as he walks away, Nico praying you didn’t hear the comment.

You turn towards Nico, holding your hand out. “You ready?”

He takes your hand, letting you pull him into the tattoo shop’s open door. “Let’s go get tattoos together.”

An hour later, you and Nico walked out with two fresh wounds on your ankles.

Both of your tattoos were so small you truly had to look for them to notice them. You had ended up getting tattoos that were technically matching, but could have meaning on their own, too. The artist had laid out a bunch of stencils she had ready to go, letting you pick from the pile which ones you wanted. You had found a small heart with devil horns, pointing it out to Nico and jokingly suggested he get it to show his Devils heritage. At almost the exact same time, his eyes landed on a small heart with a halo over it, his eyes lighting up.

He had agreed to get the devil one only if you got the matching angel one. So, twenty minutes later, the stencils were placed and you both sat on the table as two different artists tattooed you simultaneously.

The rest of your small group teased the two of you about it for the rest of the summer. After Nico left at the end of that month, the conversation shifted from teasing about the tattoos, to teasing about when the two of you were finally going to admit your feelings to each other. You waved off their words, sticking to your explanation of you two being just friends, but they didn’t let you forget that, in their words, you ‘basically branded’ their captain.

When Nico arrived home, Nina immediately clocked the small tattoo on her brother’s leg, questioning him about it. He told her it was just a last-minute decision, something to do after the season was over, not wanting to hear any nagging about how irresponsible it was that he let a girl he was even dating talk him into getting a matching tattoo. But, when Nina saw your Instagram post at the end of the summer, the very last picture showcasing a small, familiar looking angel tattoo, she barged into Nico’s bedroom, demanding answers.

“Nico, you better explain to me what the hell is going on here, because last time we spoke you hadn’t even told her you have feelings for her yet,” Nina interrogated Nico in their native language.

“Yeah…well that hasn’t really changed. Just…haven’t found the chance yet,” he avoids talking about the tattoo, choosing to talk about the other half of her question.

“Well after this, what the hell are you waiting for?”

“Honestly, I don’t know. What if she doesn’t feel the same way? What if she moves back home after she graduates next year and just leaves me behind?” Nico voices his fears to his older sister.

“Nico, she asked you to get matching tattoos. There’s no way she doesn’t feel the same way as you. I haven’t even fully met the girl, only having talked to her on your facetime calls, and I can see that she’s head over heels for you,” Nina encourages Nico, causing a warm feeling in his chest at his sister’s words.

“Well, when you put it that way…” Nico trails off, thinking about the events of this summer in full. “You know what, you’re right. As soon as I get home, I’m telling her. What’s the harm? And if she doesn’t have feelings for me, well, at least we’ll always have tattoos together.”

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diazsdimples · 2 days

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Several Sentence Sunday!!

Bringing you sentences from two wips today because I am Indecisive™️ and am enjoying these both. Tagged by @theotherbuckley

First snippet is from my beloved Frostpunk AU. Eddie is purely vibing here.

Sometimes it feels like Eddie’s being moved, his body shifting from one side to another without him moving a muscle. It hurts when this happens, a sharp pain driving into his side as though a knife has been plunged through his ribs. He tries to take in a sharp breath but there’s something blocking his throat. He tries to lift a hand to claw at his mouth, to remove the obstruction, but his arms are leaden and won’t move. He whines, as much as he can with something down his throat, and he can feel his heartrate picking up. Suddenly, a heavy warmth envelops his hand, and gentle, low words penetrate through the haze, swimming through his brain until that’s all he focuses on. “It’s okay, Edmundo, you’re safe. Christopher is safe. I’m – I mean – we’re here.” It’s Eddie, not Edmundo, he wants to say. He wants nothing more than to hear this nice, calming Voice speak his name properly. He wants to hold onto the warmth in his hand so it never leaves, but it always does. Sometimes he thinks he hears his son’s voice. Not words, but small sounds that get picked up and wafted towards him. It’s usually when that Voice is nearby, mumbling soft words that tell stories of princesses and pirates and swordfights and giants, and he hears a small hum or sigh that he just knows is Christopher. He’d be able to pick out his son’s voice from a mile away. It gives him strength, knowing Christopher is close and being cared for. Sometimes he dimly wonders if the Voice and the Angel are the same, a guardian staying around and caring for him and his son as if that’s what it was put on this earth to do. Maybe he can get better, if only to see his son again and to hear the Voice and see the face it belongs to. So, Eddie drifts as his body heals, cuts knitting back together, his lungs slowly gaining strength until he feels he could take a breath without feels as though they could collapse. His heart beats steadier and with less pain. He doesn’t feel cold anymore, especially not when that heavy warmth settles on his forehead, his cheek, or around his fingers. Maybe, just maybe everything will be okay. Maybe he succeeded. Maybe he got himself and his son to safety. And if that’s true, he just hopes Shannon can forgive him.

The other snippet is from this fic that I'm co-writing with @theotherbuckley. Please enjoy some spice.

“How do you want to do this?” Eddie asks as he mouths at the length of Buck’s neck. “Think you can take me?” He says it like a challenge, one Buck seems more than happy to rise to. He draws himself to his full height — fuck, Eddie had forgotten that Buck’s got a couple of inches on him — and looks Eddie dead in the eyes. The blue of his irises are barely visible as his pupils blow, hunger burning deep as he surveys Eddie’s face as if taking inventory of his features. Buck leans forwards, his whole persona exuding cocky confidence, and he brushes his lips tantalisingly against Eddie’s, smirking as Eddie lets out a shaky breath. “Every last inch.” The last of Eddie’s resolve crumbles, and he surges forward, kissing Buck hard and dirty as he pulls him away from the door. They stumble across the room, tripping over loose items of clothing that are strewn across the floor - Buck 1.0 clearly isn’t the best housekeeper. The minute the backs of Buck’s legs hit the bed he falls backwards, dragging Eddie down with him. Eddie braces himself with an arm to the side of Buck’s head, his other hand cupping Buck’s jaw as he slowly, meticulously takes him apart with his lips. Buck groans into Eddie’s mouth and grabs a fistfull of his ass, pulling Eddie on top of him a little more so that Eddie’s whole body blankets his. Eddie slots a leg between Buck’s and smirks into the kiss as Buck grinds needily against his thigh, letting out high-pitched whines with each small thrust. “You need it badly, hmm?” Eddie hums as he breaks the kiss and begins to mouth along Buck’s jaw, down his neck, until he latches onto his collarbone. Buck nods vigorously and whines again as Eddie bites a mark into the tender skin.

No pressure tagging @hippolotamus @daffi-990 @watchyourbuck @bidisasterevankinard @neverevan

@bibabyboybuck @aroeddiediaz @spotsandsocks @bibuckbuckgoose @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove

@nmcggg @jesuisici33 @wikiangela @loveyouanyway @cal-daisies-and-briars

@exhuastedpigeon @epicbuddieficrecs @kitteneddiediaz @hermscat @worriedbisexual

@thekristen999 @slightlyobsessedwitheverything @actuallyitsellie @idealuk @dangerpronebuddie

@houseofevanbuckley @daemonsrhaenyra @loserdiaz @elvensorceress @underwaterninja13

@rainbow-nerdss @smilingbuckley @spagheddiediaz @steadfastsaturnsrings @thewolvesof1998

@jehdogg @ohlookitsthearkhamknight @revenge-of-the-assbutt @likeamollusconarock @this-is-moony-lovegood

@morethanoneside @random-trash-animal @woogigi @redpheonixwitch @having-conniptions

(lmk if you want to be added/removed)

#james writes #frostpunk au #purple fic #buddie wip #buddie fics #buddie #911 abc #eddie diaz #evan buckley #911 buddie #911verse #911 fanfic #911 #eddie x buck

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bumblebeebats · 15 hours

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All throughout childhood, while my peers were socializing and making friends, I studied the blade read so many books that I am now almost legally blind, which left me with vast and deeply instinctual understanding of English grammar - and next to no ability to explain how it actually works. Friends will often ask me to proofread their writing and then get very mad when I say things like, "You need to completely reverse this sentence and cut this clause entirely; no, I'm sorry, i don't know why, I just know that the way it is now ITCHES 😭"

Now, what I want to see is a fantasy story where this plays out with MAGICAL grammar. Someone from a backwater town deeply steeped in folk magic arrives at Wizard Uni where all their fellow students are like "What do you mean, we should add another '𝞯∘⋇𝞿' to the incancation because it 'sounds better'? What do you mean, 'it could just be a regional thing'?? WHAT DO YOU MEAN, 'THIS SPELL JUST FEELS LIKE IT NEEDS A LIVE RAT'????"

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just-my-latest-hyperfixation · 2 days

Note

Congratulations on 1k! It's impressive how many different genres your AUs have covered with such fun stories

For the ficletbuild a prompt game, perhaps F "Where's your sense of adventure?" + 🧜‍♂️Just add water? Vibes and item are dealers choice :)

Thank you so much, I love trying new things and exploring different universes and themes. Hope you like what I've come up with, I've been wanting to write this for a while. 🧜‍♂️❤️

Night swimming

Rated: T

Words: 1,000

Tags: Established relationship; mer!Steve Harrington; sexually explicit language; nudity

Notes: Bonus drabble to Just add water

“Okay, not to sound ungrateful,” Eddie mutters, huddling deeper into his flannel. Summer is well and truly over and the nights are getting chilly, especially out here on the water. “I appreciate this whole three-month anniversary surprise date, I really do. But couldn’t you have gone for dinner and a movie perhaps?”

“Nah,” Steve smiles. He stops rowing, pulling the oars into the boat and leaving them floating on the surface of the moonlit lake. “It had to be here. This is where I fell for you, where we first kissed. First made love. C’mon, where’s your sense of adventure?”

“Back at the shore, probably.” Eddie pretends to shiver, even though his face has gone hot at Steve’s casual mention of their first time. “Where all of that stuff actually happened, by the way, so I still don’t get why you needed to row us out here. Now where’s that surprise you promised me?”

“Patience,” Steve scolds, leaning closer on the rickety bench so that he can press a kiss to Eddie’s lips. “I'm getting there.”

Then, without further preamble, he starts stripping.

“What the-” Eddie blurts as Steve’s sweater hits him in the face. “No way, forget it. We're not fucking in the middle of the-”

“Get your mind out of the gutter, who said anything about fucking?” Steve rolls his eyes, shrugging out of his jeans and underpants. “We’re going for a swim.”

And then, before Eddie has a chance to stop him, he dives headfirst into the dark lake. Eddie yelps and clenches his eyes shut as the boat rocks. When he opens them, Steve is just emerging again. He laughs and shakes the water from his hair, happy like a fish in the water, which … okay, yeah. That's actually an apt comparison, considering the giant, glistening tail and the fucking fins that have taken the place of his legs.

You'd think that after three months, a guy would get used to his boyfriend being a real-life mermaid. No such luck, apparently, because Eddie still finds himself as dumbstruck as the first time as Steve swims closer and casually rests his arms on the edge of the boat. The patch of scales on his temples shimmers in the pale light.

“Not coming in?”

Eddie grins, trying to ignore the way his heart hammers against his ribcage.

“Nuh-uh, fish boy. Don't wanna freeze to death. You have fun, I'll take care of the food.”

He has just bent over to retrieve the huge picnic basket from the hull of the boat when Steve says, “Oh, you thought that was for you?”

Eddie whips his head up, mouth already open around a question- … which turns into a garbled half-scream when he sees what has appeared beside Steve.

A gleaming pair of eyes, each roughly the size of a saucer.

Eddie blinks. The eyes blink back. There's two pairs of lids on each, the inner one a thin, translucent membrane.

“She's been dying to meet you,” Steve smiles. “Say hi?”

“Hrrrrrrgh,” Eddie says.

The creature makes a sound - a long, high-pitched trill. Steve chimes in with a laugh of his own, and wait, do they think this is funny?

Steve sees the scowl on his face and tilts his head. “C’mon, Eds, don't be like that. You've seen her before.”

“Yeah, from a distance,” Eddie squeaks, finally finding his voice again. “Not like this. Jeez, warn a guy! What happened to meeting the family first?”

The creature makes an affronted sound and Steve pets her large, arrow-shaped head.

“Of course you are family, he's just a bit confused,” he tells her. She grumbles and he turns to Eddie with a chuckle. “Uh-oh, you'd better apologize.”

Eddie stares. Steve’s eyes flick down to the picnic basket.

“Ugh, alright,” Eddie mutters. He reaches down to flip the lid open, steeling himself for the sight of slimy fish heads, only to be met with… “Fruit? She eats fruit?”

Steve shrugs. “She's an ombi- … obvy- … she eats everything, really. Oh, give her the watermelon, she loves those.”

Eddie obeys, because why wouldn't he? If your mermaid boyfriend tells you to feed the friendly lake monster a watermelon, you feed the lake monster the goddamn watermelon. It's only logical.

The melon is about as large as his head. He lifts it, and a long neck comes curling out of the water, until those eerie eyes are level with his - and then higher still, so he's looking up at them. It's a weird feeling, being face to face with this creature who's so much older than him - older than the lake itself, maybe - holding out the fruit to her like an offering. Awe, he realizes. He's feeling awed in the truest and most original sense of the word.

And then she bends down and plucks the melon from his hands. Something crunches and Eddie shrieks in surprise and disgust as a shower of juice and seeds descends on him. The creature swallows, blinks her glowing, double-lidded eyes at him one last time, and then she's gone, slipping back under the surface of the lake with barely a ripple.

“Huh,” Eddie exhales a shaky laugh. “That went pretty-”

The world tilts.

His scream turns into a wet gargle as he hits the water, but Steve has him under the arms and is pulling him up to straddle his tail before he can go under. He sees Eddie’s shocked face and laughs, gently combing dark strands soaked in lake water and melon juice out of his face.

“That went fantastically,” he says, grin wide and brilliant and incredibly proud. It makes Eddie’s heart kick in his chest, just a little. “She really likes you!”

Eddie spits out a mouthful of water.

“What, really? Is it just her or do all of your family members have such an odd way of showing it?”

Steve hums, a bit nervously perhaps, and pulls Eddie's shivering body closer to his chest.

“Well, wait until you meet my mom.”

More celebration ficlets

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie brainrot #steddie fanfic #fanfiction writer #fanfiction #fanfic #my writing #1k followers #Hype's 1k follower ficlets

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alessiamalfoyzabini · 2 days

Text

Dark Moon | Chapter Fifteen - The End

Pairing | yandere!Jimin x Reader

Word Count | 3k

Warnings | +18, yandere themes, wedding, Stockholm syndrome, murder, smut, messy bathroom sex, fingering, blowjob, teasing, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, body worship and kissing, this is not for minors

This fanfiction is yandere, if you don't like the genre, don't read and if you are not of age, don't read.

I don't want to hear any complaints in the comments, thank you.

This does not reflect my way of thinking or living at all, it is just a work of fiction, it is like watching a horror movie, many of us love horror movies, but we would never dream of what we see in those movies happening in reality as well.

Simply put, this story was written for entertainment purposes, it should not be seen as a reflection of my values, opinions or morals. I absolutely do not condone such acts.

⤷ Summary | She just wanted to escape her past, take charge of her life and break out of her steel cage, praying in God for a miracle that could change her life for good.

And her prayers were heard, but it was not the Divine that answered her.

That was certainly the devil in the guise of an angel, she thought as those corrupted and empty eyes searched her soul with extreme voracity.

He turned a sweet, false smile on her, before pushing her into the abyss.

➢ Author's Note | Hi, guys ❤️

This is the last chapter of Dark Moon, a story that I wrote in a period that was not easy for me, in fact the dark tones come from the negative emotions that pushed me to write this story to test myself with this genre, so I really hope you enjoyed Dark Moon, I would be happy to receive comments about it ❤️

As for possible extras, who knows, maybe they will come just like what happened with Happy Ending 😉

Also, it was really nice to be able to talk with you! Thanks for all the love and support, see you with the next story I am already writing 🤧

Taglist: @katherine-kookie, @dragons-flare, @m00njinnie, @seokjins-luigi, @pjmsneverland, @jimincrystal, @ajkwww, @ungodlyjoon , @hecateslittlewitchling , @namjoonsbuspass , @darkuni63 , @xicanacorpse , @jiminismine4ever , @btssimpjaneth , @antisocial-mochi267 , @reallygenerouskoala , @velvet-stardust2002 , @angelicsmilesworld

Chapter List - Previous - The End

"Where is Y/N?" asked Taehyung, receiving a glare from Jimin.

"Stop it, Taehyung, she's afraid of him, and I'm certainly not going to force her to attend because you think it will help with her trauma," hissed Jimin, looking around.

He had let Y/N fall asleep in his arms before silently leaving the apartment to finish her uncle's execution.

Taehyung wished she was there, he argued that seeing her own nightmare die would help her heal faster, Jimin on the other hand was convinced of the exact opposite, she had run away from the bastard, dead or alive she never wanted to see him again, that was the gist.

"It was just an idea..." put the other's hands forward.

"Jimin, everything is ready" Hoseok warned him electrified, it had been a long time since they had proceeded with a real execution and this was the time to enjoy another one.

The boy nodded as he continued down the dark corridors of their base with the others, the room they were holding the man in was a cell like any other, it was only the way they were torturing him that differentiated the prisoner from the others.

Mikkel was bound hand and foot by a thick rope, which went to twist around his neck with a noose still wide enough not to suffocate him completely.

He stared at everyone with spirited eyes, and Jimin noted how disgusting and repulsive the man looked more like an ugly gray rat.

"You have the wrong man, I'm just a loan shark, the Kims would never say anything important to me," he licked his lips nervously, he had a horrible accent.

Jimin walked around him, his shiny black shoes made a sinister ticking sound.

Heel, toe.

He stopped in front of him again, bending at the knees.

"The Kims are our allies, we don't need to know shit about them," he said squaring him with disgust, "And we certainly wouldn't use shit like you for our own purposes."

Mikkel looked around agitatedly, Jungkook rocked back on his own feet, smiling cheekily at the man.

"Then why am I here?"

Jimin's eyes thinned, "Let's clean up, Mik," he said making the man fidget, "Does the name Y/N mean anything to you?"

Surprise and panic soon won out and he began to struggle, unaware of the damage he was doing to himself, the more he moved the tighter the noose around his neck tightened.

"You thought you were getting off scot-free by abusing a little girl who was part of your own family, threatening her parents and then making the poor mother look like a fool," Jimin began, approaching until he could read every distorted thought in the man's increasingly swollen eyes, "You took advantage of their miserable financial status and threatened to throw them out on the street if they talked, even naming certain acquaintances, who didn't like the publicity you gave, so... one way or another you're dead anyway," he growled, grabbing the knot and pulling to speed up the choking.

Mikkel coughed airlessly, tried to wriggle and escape Jimin's death grip, but to no avail, the more he moved, the more he urged Jimin not to let go.

"That's nothing compared to what you put Y/N through, you son of a bitch," he shouted, throwing a punch at the man now with no more air in his lungs, blood began to come out of his nose as his body was invaded by jerks and survival impulses, he cried out mute for mercy, but the boy's eyes remained stone.

Jimin backed away retrieving his gun, but when he pointed it at the monster he had second thoughts, with one bullet he would have died too quickly, so he just watched along with the others as he suffocated in the ropes and his own blood, in the last moments when Mikkel looked desperately at Jimin once again, the latter smiled.

"Y/N, my wife, sends her regards and wishes you to burn in hell," he greeted him amusedly, emphasizing how Y/N was now simply his.

When they saw the eyes turn glassy, with no more life behind them, Hoseok huffed.

"That was too fast," Jungkook commented, pulling out his own gun and unloading it on the body to make sure he was really dead.

"He's dead, that's all that matters," said Seokjin who had been merely observing in silence, "Get rid of the corpse cleanly, I don't want any surprises," he ordered, but everyone's attention was on Jimin.

"Wife?" asked Taehyung with a smile.

"He actually said wife, this jerk decided to settle his head," laughed Namjoon, interrupted by Yoongi who also laughed.

"No, that little head will always be crazy."

"So you're getting married with a celebration?" asked Jungkook, joining the confused chorus of questions and jokes.

"My guess is he's already signed papers, he seemed overconfident," reasoned Hoseok, both Jin and Jimin were getting nervous.

"Listen, you-!"

"When and how they get married is Jimin's and Y/N's business, as for us, we must realize that there is a new family member to protect," he clapped his hands vigorously, "Now, get rid of the body," he repeated.

Jimin nodded in Jin's direction in thanks, then turned to Jungkook, "Make sure that not even the bones can lie on this earth, you understand what I mean, right?"

Of course it was clear, the seriousness and awareness of having to do one's duty well had returned to the room.

The ceremony had been small and for a few friends, Jimin did not like to show off, and Y/N could not bear to see unfamiliar and dangerous faces staring back at her.

The wedding dress, on the contrary, was wonderful.

It wrapped the girl's figure gracefully, her shoulders were uncovered thanks to the bodice's boat neckline, which was white with light blue highlights and had many small flowers woven along the neckline and hips, it then continued with a long skirt made of silk and fluffy tulle, with her hair made slightly wavy and scattered loosely on her back and the thin, shiny tiara placed on her head, everyone had agreed that she was an adorable and pure fairy.

Jimin, for his part, in his sleek, total-black smoking with crystals sprinkled across his chest and shoulders, had never taken his eyes off her, like a hawk aiming at its seductive prey. There was a change in him too, his hair had been dyed blond, for Y/N had been like seeing a fallen angel waiting for her at the altar, she had smiled shyly at him arm in arm with Seokjin.

It had been frightening to meet him again initially, but in time she had realized that if taken gently, Jin was by no means evil and had always been very calm and gentle with her.

Now she was there, joining her hand with Jimin's, and emotion invaded her.

She paid no attention to the priest's words, the ritual they were performing was being handed down in the Bangtan band, it was the man who had to do everything, the bride simply had to say,

"Yes, I do."

It had been so easy to say it, no hesitation, no flash of fear, she looked at Jimin through the foolish eyes of love, he lowered himself onto her who discovered she was swept up in a fiery and electrifying cloud, when their lips touched Jimin held back no longer, he held her by the waist and pulled her into a deep and dead-end kiss, he was possessive and passionate and sought her out every time she tried to catch a breath.

The few guests applauded, giggling at the fierce hunger of the blond, who let her go only to gaze contentedly at those swollen, scarlet lips of kisses.

But it was not his intention to stop there.

They accepted the congratulations of the Bangtans and some of their relatives, Y/N met Taehyung's mother and father and found them a delightful couple, almost unable to believe it when the father said with some pride that he too had been a Bangtan before his son.

In contrast, there was no sign of Jimin's parents, probably not even knowing that their son was alive.... From what Jimin had confessed to her one night, his mother was a street prostitute and his father was a singer who toured the world, Jimin had been born by mistake.

Y/N had immediately rebuked him, he was not a mistake, he was her complex and sweet boyfriend, although he had not been a saint at first, now he was showing her that he was a caring partner and madly in love. Perhaps even too madly.

"Anyway, my husband and I wish you well and happy life together," trilled the woman, gently pinching the cheeks of the girl, who blushed under such motherly attention; now she understood why Taehyung was the most affectionate of his friends, he had not grown up with terrible parents.

"Treat her well, Jimin... it's not easy to find someone who understands and accepts our kind of life," he tapped the young man's shoulder with a hand that was anything but playful, despite the boxy smile his son had inherited.

"Oh, I'll treat her like a queen," he smiled sweetly, but Y/N saw the shadow of something more evil, something that manifested itself exactly forty minutes later, when everyone was now occupied with the banquet.

"W-We'll have to wait," stammered the girl, trembling under the velvety kisses the young man was leaving all along the portion of skin the cleavage had left, free to be cuddled and adored by him, "If you leave me marks they will show!"

Jimin laughed on her neck, "I won't leave you any marks, I just want to have a taste," he promised, licking down to the cleft between her breasts with his erection pressing into his pants.

He cast a glance at the girl and let out an approving cry, he had taken her in his arms making her sit on the sink, her back was resting against the large mirror behind her and her legs were held open, with the skirt pulled up over her hips and the white fishnet stockings on display, all for him and she was so sexy in his eyes...

"You've already had a taste this morning!" hissed Y/N, glancing occasionally at the bathroom door.

Jimin returned to leave moist trails of kisses on her chest, suddenly lowering her bodice and noticing to his pleasure that she was totally naked, Y/N gasped praying that nothing had been torn off, cast a reproachful glance at the man, melting away soon after, however.

Jimin's condition was no better, his once perfectly coiffed hair was now messy and scattered across his forehead, his tuxedo jacket had been tossed into some corner of the bathroom, and his dark, gleaming shirt had been opened by almost every button, which made her quietly admire the invitingly toned appearance of his abdomen, cased with deep attractive and manly lines, with her hand she followed one, entranced, to his waistband where a more than obvious bulge made her throat tighten.

Jimin licked his swollen lips stained with her lipstick, "I can't go back that way."

"No, you can't," murmured Y/N as she got off the shelf and knelt in front of him, who inhaled in eagerness to touch her.

She took off his leather belt and lowered the zipper of his smartly cut pants, watching raptly as his cock pushed against his boxers, there was already a wet spot staining the fabric, and she licked gently there, already finding the taste she now knew by heart and could no longer do without, Jimin clenched his fingers around the edge of the sink until his knuckles turned white, with a small smile the girl also freed him of his men's underwear and finally took the swollen, heavy shaft into her mouth, standing still for a few moments, trying to get used to that girth once again.

"Fuck," breathed Jimin tremblingly, his balls clenched as he registered the image he was experiencing, "Oh, fuck, you're sucking me off in a wedding dress," he cursed, risking coming immediately, Y/N closed her eyes and holding her breath swallowed a few more inches until her nose brushed against the man's pubis and she felt her throat fill with his cock, she slid over the entire length again, licking insistently the sensitive frenulum area, her intimacy was on fire when she noticed the tremor in her husband's legs, giving him pleasure gave her pleasure, it was a sensation she had never experienced with anyone else. It made her feel powerful and weak at the same time.

Jimin moved his pelvis against her mouth, each discharge was a violent lash that he needed, the tone of his voice rose, and, they were both sure, if anyone passed by the bathroom door, they would hear a man enjoying thanks to a dreamy blowjob.

"Y/N, stop," he ordered in a guttural voice, but the woman sucked harder on his entire length, letting her saliva slowly slide all over his cock to make the job easier, in response Jimin grabbed her head, giving one last thrust that made her choke for a few seconds before releasing her completely, "Get up," he hissed, his taut and vibrating cock was already on the verge of releasing his cum.

The girl licked her lips with a sly smile, pleased that she had reduced Park Jimin to a quivering little thing, as if grappling with his first blowjob, but Jimin was not of the same opinion.

"You little bitch."

He made her turn, bending her over the sink and raising her glitzy skirt over her hips again, that position was the same as that night before everything went to hell, but she didn't feel the suffocating anxiety of the first few times, with time she had realized that Jimin would never hurt her again, and now she quivered every time she found herself bent over with Jimin behind her, watching her desire-laden body.

The blond man pulled her panties of the same color as her fishnet stockings, felt her intimacy with two fingers to see how wet it was and found it deliciously soaked and quivering, he hummed with satisfaction at that result and penetrated her lightly, Y/N opened her mouth sighing, her belly contracted recognizing that pleasurable stretch between her yielding flesh.

Jimin removed his fingers now soaked with her wetness and used them to gently caress her swollen, sensitive clitoris as he penetrated her all the way down, slowly sliding his cock into her who more than welcomed it, Y/N's head dangled forward as she responded to Jimin's rhythmic thrusts with hushed, choked moans, the fingers around her rosy bud amplified the sensations of the cock pinning her down in that bathroom, where everyone could have found out in a very few seconds what was going on.

"Oh God ... oh God ...!" she exclaimed unable to say anything else, Jimin went deeper with a sometimes desperate cry.

"My wife," he sighed in her ear, bending entirely over her with his hips clicking faster and rougher, "I'm fucking my wife," he gasped causing her walls to clench as they flickered in mad pleasure, with wide, glazed eyes she listened to Jimin repeat those words, she loved hearing him say them, her heart was swollen with love and pride, now no one would dare to hurt her, ever again.

The blond lifted her up against his chest, fixing his eyes straight into hers through the mirror that gave a sinful image of their bodies joining sensually, he held her tight like that as he intensified the rhythm of his thrusts, by now sinking into that slippery heat breathlessly, his hand worked under her skirt faster, Y/N moaned seeking his lips, Jimin also penetrated with his tongue into the young woman's mouth, pinching a florid nipple as a provocation.

It worked, with a shrill scream between their joined mouths Y/N came violently, clutching his cock that discharged moments later in her belly between thick boiling filaments, they continued to move in unison until the pleasure turned totally to discomfort due to overstimulation.

They sighed exhaustedly, but without moving.

"I told you not to leave marks on me, but you did worse," she laughed wordlessly, observing his devastated state, not that Jimin was any better off.

He kissed her neck gently, leaving her, who groaned annoyed at the loss.

"We have a valid excuse now."

"What excuse?"

"Well..." he helped her up her bodice by lacing it from behind, shooting her a mischievous look, "To get out of here without anyone noticing and finish in our room what we started."

Y/N widened her eyes, "We can't! They came here for us and then I'm too tired now to-" she could not finish the sentence, Jimin took her in his arms without any effort.

"It's our wedding, we can do what we like," he said with a smile that gave him a cheerful and absolutely adorable air, "And I want lots of children," he blew on her lips kissing her repeatedly, she laughed between their lips, unable to retort.

She did not know how exactly she had ended up trusting her fallen angel, but she was sure of the fact that she was now hopelessly in love with him, as he was with her.

73 notes · View notes

sgiandubh · 13 hours

Note

Fuck this shitshow...This is it.

Dear This Is It Anon,

You mean this, right?

Lest they would think as they all collectively do, with the shared single braincell they use across the street, we are hiding shite under the carpet. Not my method, Anon, off - and online.

So, ok. He was there. We were on perhaps the worst case scenario, probability-wise, on that one: 50/50, which is sort of mildly excruciating, right?

I can only encourage you to watch that clip, Anon. There are always nuances in the worst of bullshit situations. Yes, she is smiling. Briefly to T (this page founds a lie beyond ridiculous) and then to the winner:

Yes, she looks relaxed enough. But never forget she is an actress, after all, at a professional event. What did you expect her to do, sulk? I know, it happened before, when she was perhaps way less thrilled, but people change and they learn from their mistakes. Narrative wise, her being awkward around McElusive was a PR mistake that had to be corrected/properly retconned. This seems to be the case, now, with a more natural attitude.

But you can fumble around and manipulate only that much of a given situation. The giveaway, to me, in this is TMcG (the hour is solemn, no jokes around, please) - still the same unkempt, DGAF, 70s called outfit, plus looking really, really strange. Unlike many on our side, I shall not elaborate - there is no need to. Yet it is plain to see something is unwell, especially when compared to the cortisone prosperity of the last sighting. Don't get me wrong: I have no ill wish towards this person. I just can't help but notice something is amiss, in all this forced, calculated, propagandistic Joy.

I am also fully aware there are many mean eyes watching me from the shadows across the street, Anon. I mean, seriously, BIF?

Of course, that is your page and you can write what the hell you want. Choosing to quote me was a rather successful ambush. Remember, however (really LOL, always LOL): wars are not won with just tactics. Ok, you have a questionable edge on this one - a wasted battle.

Wars are won with good strategy and a synoptic, not fragmented vision (making a huge affair out of each and every single detail), of the state of play. You may be a decent tactician, perhaps, but you are a lousy strategist.

Oh, and to think you are planning a get together at the Paris Landcon, too, eh? How nice and how copy/paste of you, folks. I wonder what you expect, a fucking remake of West Side Story?

I could say good afternoon and even shake your hand anytime, BIF. But I bet you wouldn't. You're a tiny, hateful person with an overinflated ego, like that.

Sorry, Anon, for the rant. I tried to be as objective as I could, under biased circumstance and harsh scrutiny. I just hope this brought more clarity.

#anon #fandom #shitshow

80 notes · View notes

callsign-rogueone · 2 days

Text

alone with you - l.m.

Liam Mairi x reader part two of Liam and Spark's story. words: 3.0k 🏷: Fourth Wing spoilers (spark knows things that Violet doesn't lmao), sparring and a tiny bit of blood, reader gets injured but not to worry, someone takes care of you. no pronouns used for reader but Liam does call you a girl. Tuile being a bitch (wbk) and perhaps some answers about what happened in spark's first year at basgiath... I'm still not good at writing fight scenes, sorry lol

Another year, another round of challenges. Another opportunity to show the entire quadrant that you’re not here to fuck around, nor to make friends.

You loosen your muscles as Emeterrio discusses the rules of engagement, cracking your neck and stretching out your arms, taking mental inventory of all the weapons on your body -- even though it’s frowned upon to use them in these fights, you keep the array of knives at the ready.

“I see the general’s girl has survived the week,” Tuile muses. “I’m almost impressed.”

You cast a glance across the room, seeing her standing next to the cadet who was in front of her in line for Parapet, the one she’d traded boots with.

“It’s only a matter of time,” you mutter back.

Even though Xaden had convinced the two dozen of you to leave her alone, it’s likely that somebody else is going to see how fragile she is and walk right up and snap her in two, to thin the herd -- not that she has a real chance of making it to threshing anyway, not without some divine intervention.

But she’s a perfect little Navarrian citizen, so she must pray to their gods every night before bed. Maybe they’ll help her, because you sure as hell won’t; you have a reputation to maintain, and there’s no rational explanation you could give her for why you would want to help her at all, not without jeopardizing the entire revolution -- she might not take after her traitorous older brother, who as far as she and everyone else in this death trap of a college is aware, is dead.

She seems to notice you watching her, locking eyes with you for a split second and quickly averting her gaze. She’s afraid of you and all of your friends, unaware that your respect for Brennan is what’s keeping her alive right now.

Fear is a requirement for survival here. Maybe she’ll make it longer than you’d thought.

It’s not a surprise to you at all that your name is called first, nor that you’re matched with the largest cadet in the class. It became clear to you last year that the professors aren’t making these assignments randomly. It couldn’t be a coincidence that they keep pairing you with the best fighters -- but never with another marked one, even though you’re all at the top of the class.

No, they’re probably entertained by all of this, betting on you like racehorses or wild dogs, placing wagers on who would come out on top. If anyone’s putting money on you, you’ve made them a killing -- you’re undefeated.

But that would require someone else to bet against you, and while you may not respect all of the professors and leadership, or any of them, really, you don’t think they’re dumb enough to throw their money away like that.

“We meet again,” he says with a sick grin that makes the scar below his eye stretch and contort.

You don’t respond, taking one last survey of the seven blades on your body, but you’re not dumb enough to touch them, lest he see where they are and try to take them himself, like he did earlier this year.

He’d wrapped his fingers around the wooden hilt of the blade that Liam had given you before you left for Basgiath, intent on putting it through your heart, and you’d seen red.

“You should have taken his eye out.”

“I gave him that scar as a warning,” you reply evenly. “It’s up to him if he’s going to heed it or not.”

You’re at it as soon as Emeterrio says go, taking turns lunging at each other and blocking attacks.

You’re evenly matched, despite the size he has on you. He may be stronger, more intimidating, but you’re faster, and you know what you’re doing. You know where to hit and when, your strikes much more precise than his.

Still, Liam’s heart races.

It was one thing watching you mess around with Bodhi in the courtyard, but it’s another thing entirely seeing you fight as if your life depends on it -- and it does. There’s a very real possibility that one of you is going to be spending the evening in the infirmary, or the morgue, after this ends.

You fight like Xaden, like himself and Bodhi and Imogen and everyone else his brother had a hand in training, but with an edge he’s never seen from you before.

He hesitates to put a name to it, but there’s something in your eyes akin to a wild animal’s as the pair of you stalk circles around each other, planning your next attack.

“It’s not polite to play with your food,” Tuile chides.

Fine. You’ll finish this, if only so she’ll shut up and leave you alone.

The other cadet has the same idea.

You charge at the same time as he hurls a dagger in your direction, and you hit the ground at the last second to avoid being skewered. You start to press up to your feet, but he stomps a boot into your back, pain ripping down your spine. You swallow a scream, digging your nails into the sticky foam beneath you.

The mental wall separating you from Tuile crumbles, that familiar white-hot anger flowing through you. “Do something.”

You unsheath a dagger, reaching up and swiping it across his calf, and he hisses in pain, releasing you and taking a stumbling step back.

It’s easy enough for you to knock him off balance, landing three consecutive blows to his ribs and a swift kick to his stomach that sends him to the floor.

You’re tired of this already. It’s lost its novelty, and you really need to sit down -- there’s black spots clouding your vision, and the pain in your back has gotten impossibly worse.

“Do I have to kill you in front of the kids, or do you yield?”

“I yield,” he rasps, still clutching his leg.

You lean down, wiping each side of the blade on his shirt before you sheath it.

“Sloppy, but satisfactory,” Tuile comments — that’s high praise from her. Maybe she’ll give you the evening off from her snide remarks.

You slot yourself between Liam and Bodhi, leaning against the wall as casually as you can; every movement has pain spreading across your lower back and shooting down your spine.

You try to focus on rebuilding the wall she’d knocked down, brick by brick, taking deep breaths and forcing the anger out of your body.

Liam reaches for you, looking worried.

You speak under your breath, not moving your lips. “Not here. Not in front of everyone.”

He pulls back without protest, understanding why you don’t want him helping you where the rest of the quadrant can see you, don’t want them to see the look of concern on his face and his hand on your arm and identify him as your weakness.

You may very well be the most hated person in the quadrant, being marked, bonded to one of Navarre’s nastiest dragons, and unafraid to draw blood in challenges. There are several cadets in this room who wouldn’t hesitate to go after Liam if they thought it would hurt you -- and it would.

You don’t care what they do to you, what pain they inflict or what scars they leave on your body, but if anyone so much as touches Liam, they’ll lose the use of their hands.

You breathe through the pain and keep your eyes on the fights unfolding in front of you; making note of who favors what side of their body, who gets sloppy after more than a minute, who yields because they don’t have the stomach to take things further.

Most of the cadets think this is the one class you don’t have to study for, but they’d be wrong -- there’s a reason you always come out on top, and this is it.

The class ends without Liam’s name being called, which is a relief, even though you don’t doubt his skill on the mat — it’s off the mat that you’re worried about.

Almost everyone heads straight to dinner, but Liam hangs back, getting your attention with a barely-there touch to your elbow. You look over at him, and he nods in the other direction, toward the dorms.

Of course he’s going to insist on checking your injuries himself, as he always did in the years you trained with him and Xaden. He doesn’t seem to think anything has changed between you in the year you’ve been away.

Sooner or later, he’ll realize he’s wrong.

You wait for nearly everyone to be out of the gym before you leave, leading him up to the second floor in silence and unlocking your door with a wave of your hand, gesturing him inside -- thankfully there’s nobody in the hallway to see you.

You haven’t been alone with him in a full year. A year and two weeks, if you want to be precise. The day you’d said goodbye, and nothing else.

You busy yourself with digging through your desk drawer to find the nearly-empty tin of healing balm, handing it to him before you turn away, gritting your teeth as you pull the shirt up over your head.

If you weren’t pouring every ounce of energy you have left into keeping yourself upright, you might have it in you to be embarrassed about the amount of skin you’re exposing to him, the history of your first year at Basgiath on full display. But it’s Liam. Liam isn’t going to judge you, isn’t going to pry; he’ll just keep giving you that soft, concerned look -- which is somehow almost worse.

There’s a moment of quiet as he takes it in; the dark blue, nearly-black silhouette of Tuile that spans your shoulder blades and continues down your back, disappearing into the layers of thick linen wrapped over your chest, the full extent of your rebellion relic, winding down your arm to your wrist…

Then he sees it, the nasty bruise starting to form on your back, below the hem of your bindings. The other cadet had hit you square in the spine, a blow that could very well have been paralyzing had it been delivered at a slightly different angle with slightly more force. That’s probably what he’d intended.

Liam isn’t particularly religious -- none of you are, which was a major reason why your parents had wanted to secede from Navarre -- but he still sends up a silent thank you to the powers that be that you’re okay, standing in front of him mostly unharmed.

You grit your teeth, keeping your eyes shut and gripping the shirt tightly as Liam’s hand rubs over your back, working in the healing balm.

There’s something about the feeling of his skin on yours that is more uncomfortable than the aching bruise or any of the other injuries you’d sustained in that fight.

You can handle the brush of your hands, a touch through layers of clothing and armor, eye contact and whispered words and smiles — all things that are acceptable behavior between friends — but the tenderness of this whole thing is overwhelming; being alone with Liam in your room, his bookbag on the floor, standing behind you rubbing a hand over your back, the other on your waist to hold you steady because you’re fucking trembling.

Maybe you are a little embarrassed after all.

The skin feels warm and tingly, a sign that whatever healing herbs within the sticky paste are working, soothing the aching muscle. Your entire body feels warm. It’s unbearably hot in this room, but Liam doesn’t seem to mind, still dressed in his flight jacket and full uniform.

He moves his attention from your back to your side, murmuring a soft apology when you startle at the feeling of his hand smoothing over your ribs.

You take a breath, letting him work more of the balm into the spot where the other cadet’s fist had landed.

He finally pulls back, letting his hand linger on your waist until he’s convinced you won’t fall over. “Anything else hurting?” he asks gently.

“My head,” you admit to the wall. “But that never goes away.”

You pull the shirt back on as quickly as you can, done feeling exposed, and fight to maintain an unaffected expression as you turn back to face him.

He looks at you for a few seconds before it dawns on him -- the persistent headache, the flatness of your skin and your constantly racing heart, the way you’re bracing yourself with a hand on the desk, how tired you look and feel… “Spark, when was the last time you had water? Or anything to drink at all?”

Liam has always been too observant for his own good.

You take a moment to think about it, another definite indicator that something is wrong. “Yesterday,” you answer quietly. “At dinner.”

His eyes widen almost imperceptibly. It’s been a full twenty-four hours -- you’re supposed to be at dinner right now. It’s a miracle that you hadn’t passed out on the mat this afternoon.

He doesn’t scold you, doesn’t tell you how bad that is; he just squeezes your hand gently, taking the water bottle out of his bag and uncapping it. He can see you hesitating, knows something is wrong -- it takes a lot to rattle you, but you’re looking at the thing like it’s going to bite you.

“Three sips?” he asks softly.

That seems doable.

You take the bottle from him, holding it for a moment, feeling the weight of the metal and the energy flowing through the water inside it. It’s clean, calm, not murky and angry like the river water that Carr had made you practice with last year, but that doesn’t matter; in your hands, it’s the most dangerous substance on the planet.

And as fate would have it, it’s necessary for your survival.

You’re just grateful Tuile is off doing gods-know-what and not making her usual smug commentary -- she’d left after you’d won that challenge match, but she’ll be back soon enough.

You raise it to your lips and drink, wanting to get it over with. The water is cool and crisp, breathing life back into your mouth and soothing your throat as you swallow, your body singing in relief as you give it what it’s been deprived of for months now.

You take a moment to breathe, comforted by the air that continues to flow into your lungs and back out. Liam is standing in front of you. You’re okay. Two more. You can do this.

You bring it back up for another sip. You hadn’t realized how much you needed this, how much better it would make you feel. You take the next one in quick succession — that’s three. You’re done.

You hate to admit it, but you feel better already.

Liam is still watching you with that soft, worried expression, though it’s less severe now than it had been earlier. You can see the gears turning, knowing he’s wondering why this was such a big deal for you; but there’s no judgment there, just genuine concern for your well-being.

You decide to tell him the truth, or part of it.

“I almost drowned when I channeled for the first time,” you say quietly, gazing back down at the half-empty bottle. “It was fucking terrifying. I couldn’t shower alone for a week. I needed one of the girls to come into the bathroom with me and face the wall, just talking to me the whole time. Then we realized Bo can counter signets. He’s been helping me control it, but…”

So that’s what Xaden had meant when he said that Bodhi was helping you deal with things. He wonders if there’s anything else his brother hadn’t told him, anything you aren’t telling him, but he won’t demand an answer from you -- he knows how difficult it must have been for you to tell him what you did, and he won’t push you further.

He takes the bottle back and caps it, gathering you into his arms silently, the way he’d wanted to back in the gym. He’s careful not to put any pressure on the injury, keeping his hands well above the bruise -- one between your shoulder blades and one on your ribs, on the side that you hadn’t been hit.

You rest your head on his shoulder, speaking in a whisper. “Thank you, Li.”

His lips brush over your hairline, where the ache is the worst. “Of course, sweet girl.”

You don’t want to let go of him yet, but you’ve already been holding each other longer than is appropriate for friends -- and that’s all you are, for the time being.

He finally pulls away, and you could nearly cry at the loss of contact.

“I need a minute,” you manage. “You should head down.”

You’re reminded again of why you love him so much as he nods in understanding, shouldering his bag and giving you a soft smile before he heads out your door.

All good things must come to an end.

“Sweet? He must not know you at all.”

“He knows me better than you ever will,” you snap back.

At least she waited for him to leave, for you to be done with the water, or you would have some serious explaining to do.

You build up the wall again before she replies, and though it isn’t strong enough to block her out completely, she doesn’t push against it or knock it down -- she must not feel like getting into a pissing match with you right now.

Good. You don’t either.

You notice he left the bottle on your desk. You manage another three sips before you finally head down to dinner, where you slide into the open seat beside Liam, silently pushing the empty bottle toward him.

“I’m proud of you,” he whispers, not wanting to draw any attention from the group around you, who are all immersed in hearty conversation.

You haven’t heard those words from anyone in a long time. They mean more to you than he could ever imagine.

#liam and spark #liam mairi x reader #fourth wing x reader #fourth wing #liam mairi #mine

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