#[ barks pt. ii ]

[lumiileth]

was i(t) worth it? (of course you are!) pt. ii

Link to Part 1: https://www.tumblr.com/lumiileth/780075239340212224/was-it-worth-it-of-course-you-are

pairing: Luffy x Former Slave!Reader, Slight!Ace x Reader, Platonic!The Straw Hat Pirates x Reader tags: Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Former Celestial Dragon Slave!Reader, word count: 29.8k warning: Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Nongraphic Descriptions of Sexual Abuse, Gear 5 Spoilers summary: Luffy turned seventeen and set sail, just like their childhood promise—and that was when her pirate journey began, when he suddenly pulled her along with those ridiculous rubber arms, never knowing that the past she had buried deep would one day rise again to catch up with her. . . and with his crew. or: a former celestial dragon slave learns to value life through a rubber man she had coincidentally met in her childhood.

— — — — — — —— — — — — — —— — — — — — —— — — — — —

“Let’s go to Sabaody Archipelago!”

— — — — — — —— — — — — — —— — — — — — —— — — — — —

The grove (not an island! They recently found out) shimmered with iridescent bubbles, floating lazily in the air like dream fragments. Among the glimmering light, the Straw Hat crew walked with curious eyes and giddy anticipation.

“Hey guys! I can see a theme park!” Usopp’s voice broke through the bubble-filled air, pointing excitedly. “Let’s go! I wanna ride the ferris wheel!” Luffy was as excited as Ussop, forming their little duo, wanting to rush towards the park.

Chopper’s eyes sparkled. “A theme park?! That’ll be Shabondy Park!”

Camie gave a wistful sigh, a small smile playing on her lips. “Ahhh, the ferris wheel… It’s my dream to go on it someday.” Camie’s expression faltered. Her eyes fell toward the ground, voice soft. 

“Dream. . ? Why can’t you go on it?” Chopper asked, tilting his head.

“Stop that nonsense!!” Pappag barked, exasperated. “You know you can’t do that, Camie!”

“. . .Yeah, I know,” she muttered, her smile dim.

“Camie. . .” She provided comfort to the mermaid, fully knowing the circumstances fishmen have on this island. Camie smiled at the consolation, “Thank you, Ange -san!” 

She offered her name weakly, “That’s just a lousy nickname Sanji gave me. . . you can call me by your name.” She turned her attention towards her captain, Luffy. Who was busy fanboying with Ussop who wanted to go to Shabondy Park. 

“Luffy, is it okay if I stay in the Sunny?” She inquired of her captain, receiving a disappointed look from the said man. 

“Heeeeeh?” Luffy let out a grumble of confusion, “No way! We have to go to Shabondy Park together and ride the ferris wheel together!” A childish complaint from the captain. “and what I say goes!” 

“Hey, do you really wanna be cooped up there when we can explore this place?” Ussop asked, raising a brow. “Nami already has Sanji wrapped around her finger, he wants to be in the Sunny, come ooon.” Ussop grabbed Luffy’s shirt, pointing at him.

“Look how offended Luffy looks!” 

She sighed, she could never say no to Luffy. Ever. A nagging older brother's voice came through her mind. 

“You gotta say no to him someday, you can’t just agree with him on everything!” 

“Ace. . . What am I gonna do. . ?” She muttered to herself, as Ussop and Luffy both tilted their heads in confusion.

A little ways off, Hachi was being bombarded with questions from Nami. “What exactly are we doing on these islands anyway? You mentioned something about a ‘coating’?”

“Basically,” Hachi began, “if you do that, your ship will be able to travel underwater!”

Luffy’s eyes lit up. “Huh?! Really?!” Leaving her and Ussop, his attention fully towards the Octopus Fishman.

“Nyuu! But first, we have to find ourselves a coating mechanic. He’ll have to coat your ship with this resin,” Hatchan explained, though some of the Straw Hat was minding their own business, too busy gaping at the groves. “If the job’s not done properly, the whole ship can sink and fall! I know a mechanic that I trust with my life, so I’d bring you to him.” 

“That’s great!”

“But in return, I need you guys to promise me one thing,” Hatchan said, his tone more serious than they had ever heard. The usually cheerful fish-man wore a grave expression, his brows furrowed with a concern that was uncharacteristic of him. His hands clenched into fists at his sides as if bracing himself for whatever reaction they might have.

“Right, what is it?” Luffy asked, tilting his head slightly, curiosity piqued but without an ounce of worry in his voice. He was as carefree as ever, completely oblivious to the weight of Hatchan’s words and what they meant.

“This place has a lot of World Nobles running around,” Hatchan started explaining. Luffy listened, his expression unbothered, but what he didn’t notice was the way one of his crewmates visibly flinched at the mere mention of them. 

“They’re the people who live in the Holy Land, Mariejois,” Robin added, her voice as calm as always, yet there was a quiet sharpness beneath it. Unlike Luffy, she understood the severity of the situation.

“Uh, what about them?” Luffy asked, still not grasping the gravity of the conversation, his voice light, casual, completely disconnected from the fear that weighed heavily on the others.

“No matter what happens in this town,” Hatchan’s voice dropped lower, filled with an intensity that was impossible to ignore. “You gotta promise not to disobey the World Nobles.”

She stared at Hatchan, taking in the way his entire body seemed tense, his posture rigid with fear. Desperation. She recognized it instantly. It was the same look she had once worn, the same fear that had been drilled into her long ago.

“Even if there are people killed in front of your eyes, you have to pretend you don’t see anything.”

“The World Nobles are also known as the ‘Celestial Dragons,’” Hatchan continued, his words slow, deliberate, like he was trying to make Luffy truly understand the weight of them.

“They’re incredibly proud, and they wear something like a mask to avoid breathing the same air as us.” His voice held something unspoken, something resentful, but also full of fear.

“Never go up against them. Promise me, Luffy!” Hatchan pleaded, his voice tight with worry, his eyes searching Luffy’s face for any sign of understanding.

“Sure!” Luffy said with a grin, as if making a promise to not cause trouble was the easiest thing in the world. He didn’t realize—none of them did—that his promise would mean nothing soon enough.

Then they heard it.

A desperate scream.

“Please, somebody help me! I gotta go back to my family, my daughter and wife!” The voice was rough, hoarse from what was likely hours, maybe even days, of crying.

A man, bound in heavy chains, stumbled forward, his wrists and neck bruised and raw. His clothes were torn, his face covered in grime, but more than that, his eyes held nothing but sheer, unfiltered desperation. He clawed at the thick iron collar strapped tightly around his throat, his fingers bloody from the effort.

Her hands shot up to her own neck before she could stop herself, fingers grazing smooth skin where cold, rusted metal once dug into her flesh. It was a reflex, an unconscious reaction, her body remembering before her mind could even process what was happening.

A small movement, but it didn’t go unnoticed. Someone had seen it.

“Come on! Somebody! An axe—just help me get rid of this thing! I’ve given up on the New World, please help me!” The pirate wailed, voice cracking under the weight of his fear.

“Don’t get involved,” Hatchan warned, eyes darting around warily, as if afraid that even speaking too loudly would bring unwanted attention. “He was probably caught and sold as a slave. His owner must’ve brought him here, and he made a run for it.”

The man continued to struggle against the collar, yanking at it with everything he had. “If I can just take off this rin—”

BOOM.

A sickening explosion rang through the street. The force of it made the ground tremble beneath them. The man’s headless body collapsed onto the pavement, smoke curling from where the collar had detonated. Blood splattered across the ground, dark and thick, pooling beneath his lifeless form. The stench of burnt flesh filled the air, acrid and suffocating.

Luffy gasped, his eyes widening. “Huh?!”

“That’s awful! We should have saved him!” Brook roared, horror painted across his usually jovial expression, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

Pappag slapped Brook lightly, his face pale. “You promised not to get involved with the Celestial Dragons!”

“What is this town?!” Chopper cried, his voice shaking, his small body trembling as he stared at the lifeless corpse before them.

She wasn’t breathing. Her chest tightened, constricting painfully. Her head spun, her vision blurred. The scene before her twisted, warping into something else entirely, something from her past—

“Hachin, there’s a Celestial Dragon near!” Camie cried out, clinging onto the octopus fishman in fear.

“If a slave tries to escape, the collar around their necks will explode,” Hatchan said grimly. The explanation was unnecessary. She knew that already. She knew it too well.

Then she saw it.

A dog.

No. Not just any dog.

Her stomach twisted violently. Her hands trembled. Her breath came in shallow, uneven gasps.

She knew that dog. She knew that dog.

“Oh my,” a voice, dripping with condescension, sneered. “Saru, how vulgar.”

Her body moved on instinct—

She knelt.

The moment her knees hit the pavement, shame burned through her like fire, searing her to her bones. Humiliation clawed at her throat, but her mind screamed OBEY. OBEY. OBEY.

She was shaking. She was trembling. No matter how far she had come. No matter how much she had changed. She was still—

“Hey, what are you doing?!”

Luffy’s voice cut through her haze like a blade, sharp and grounding.

“She’s quick!” Hatchan said, oblivious to her inner turmoil. “Hurry, get on your knees too! And whatever you do, don’t look them in the eyes!”

She clenched her fists, nails digging into her palms, grounding herself, keeping her from losing herself entirely.The Celestial Dragon sneered down at the unconscious, nearly lifeless man, his pristine white boot pressing cruelly against the bloodied flesh. The once-proud figure lay crumpled in a heap, his breath shallow, his body broken beyond recognition.

“Oh, he’s certainly useless now.”

Saint Roswald and Saint Shalria.

Names she hadn’t dared to speak for years. Yet here they were, standing before her once again, as if fate itself was laughing at her futile attempts to outrun the past.

Her stomach churned. Her breath hitched. Every nerve in her body screamed for her to move, to run, to fight, but she was frozen. Paralyzed by the echoes of chains rattling against marble floors, by the phantom grip of hands she had long escaped but never truly forgotten.

“So you meet your end wailing for people to save you?” Saint Roswald wrinkled his nose in disgust before raising his gun, leveling it at the unmoving body. The trigger clicked, and a deafening shot rang out, sending another bullet into the corpse. A final, unnecessary act of cruelty.

“Frankly, it sickens me.”

The gunshot echoed, reverberating in her skull like a long-buried nightmare dragged back to life. The scent of gunpowder mixed with the stench of blood, an all-too-familiar combination that sent ice through her veins.

Luffy’s body tensed beside her, his fists clenching so tightly that his knuckles turned white. He moved before he could think, pure, unfiltered rage fueling his every step. But Hatchan grabbed his wrist, yanking him back with desperate force.

“Wait, you promised!!” the fish-man hissed, voice trembling with urgency.

Luffy struggled, his body vibrating with restrained fury. His eyes, usually so bright with reckless joy, darkened into something dangerous. Something lethal.

“I think I would like a giant for my next slave,” Saint Shalria mused, her tone disturbingly casual, as if picking a trinket from a store.

Her father chuckled, low and indulgent. “You should start with a mere human child first.”

She scoffed, crossing her arms. “And have it be like Charlos’ slave? No, thank you.”

Her breath hitched sharply.

Her blood turned to ice.

No. No, no, no.

Even after all these years. Even after she had clawed her way out of the abyss they had thrown her into—

They still remembered.

Her fists clenched at her sides, fingernails digging so deep into her palms that warm blood pooled in the creases of her skin. Her pulse thundered in her ears, drowning out everything but the ghosts of her past.

She remembers how Saint Charlos had favored her.

Favored her a bit too well.

A ghostly touch slithered down her spine, suffocating, inescapable. The mangrove trees surrounding her were replaced with towering marble halls, with golden chandeliers casting twisted shadows against the floors she had scrubbed raw with her own hands. A memory of a man she was forced to touch every day.

She bit her lip hard enough to taste copper, desperate—desperate—to keep herself from spiraling.

“I’m sure that pirate could’ve fought the weak-looking girl and an old man!” Chopper said, frustration evident in his voice.

“But if you wound a Celestial Dragon, an Admiral will most likely hunt you down,” Pappag informed them, his tone weary.

“Huh?! Like Aokiji?!” Luffy blurted, his anger momentarily giving way to shock.

Brook and Chopper flinched, mirroring his disbelief. But one of them remained silent, Luffy noticed that one of his crewmates had been eerily silent for a while. 

Luffy tilted his head, frowning. His gaze shifted, searching—and then he saw her.

Kneeling.

Shaking.

She barely registered his voice the first time.

“Oi…?”

It was softer now, no longer the brash, careless tone he usually carried. It was gentler. Concerned.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

She couldn’t breathe.

She had spent years searching for the meaning of freedom—not just the kind spoken of in grand tales, but the kind she could feel in her bones, in the wind against her skin, in the laughter shared over meals that weren’t rationed by someone else’s hand. 

She had found a glimpse of it in Luffy’s unwavering spirit, in Ace’s reckless grin, in the way they carried themselves like they had never been shackled.

Through them, she had found purpose, a reason to keep moving forward. They gave her more than just the illusion of freedom, they gave her a reason to believe in it.

And yet, her journey hadn’t been a willing one. She hadn’t chosen to be a pirate; Luffy had forced her hand, had backed her into a corner until the only way was intertwining her path with his. Not once did she ever regret her decision to give in to Luffy, to carve out a space for herself where no one could ever chain her again.

But standing here, in the shadow of those who had once chained her, she wondered if she had ever truly escaped at all.

Comfort. That was what Luffy was. Even as the world threatened to pull her under, the sound of his voice was an anchor.

“Luffy. . .” she breathed, her voice barely above a whisper.

He noticed it, of course. Luffy wasn’t dumb, not in the ways that mattered. He had seen her act strangely from the moment they set foot on this island.

He crouched beside her, searching her face, his usual unshakable energy replaced by something softer. Something understanding.

“Hey. . . what’s wrong?”

She forced a smile, her fingers brushing against his shoulder in reassurance. A weak attempt to pretend she was fine.

“Nothing,” she lied, her voice steady even as her hands trembled. “I’m just as shocked as you are.”

Hatchan from afar had a strange look in his eyes, he didn’t believe her, neither did Luffy.

Because she was still trembling, even as she gripped onto Luffy’s sleeve like a lifeline.

Her fingers tightened against Luffy’s shoulder, gripping onto him as if he were the only thing keeping her tethered to reality. Because right now, in the presence of those who had once owned her, who had stripped her of dignity, of freedom—she wasn’t sure she wouldn’t shatter.

‘ Not in front of Luffy .’ Her heart whispered,

— — — — — — —— — — — — — —— — — — — — —— — — — — —

She was no older than five years old when she was sold at an auction house, right here, in Sabaody Archipelago. The bright lights blinded her, and the room felt suffocating, filled with people shouting numbers that she couldn’t comprehend. Her tiny hands trembled as thick iron shackles bit into her wrists, too heavy for her small frame to bear. 

Fear clawed at her throat, but her mind kept wandering back to home—to the familiar fields of Lvneel Kingdom in North Blue. So close to Mariejois, yet so far from Sabaody. How did it all happen so fast?

She remembered it so vividly—It had been just an ordinary day— she was helping her mother in the field, the air thick with the scent of fresh crops. 

Her parents were farmers, simple and humble farmers in Lvneel. Her mother was exhausted from working under the scorching sun, so they opted to rest. She laid down on the dirt as she gently touched her mother’s arm with glowing fingertips, allowing warmth and relief to seep into her mother’s aching muscles. 

She loved her power—her devil fruit was like magic that made people feel good. It made her happy when they smiled at her with gratitude.

But that day, she wasn’t the only one who noticed her powers. A few men wearing a gaudy, extravagant helmet—shiny and shaped like a bubble—walked through the field, followed closely by tall, imposing guards in black suits and dark sunglasses. 

She didn’t understand why everyone in the village suddenly dropped to their knees, faces pressed into the dirt. Why did they look so terrified?

One of the guards approached, his heavy footsteps making the ground tremble. He looked down at her, his face emotionless, yet somehow intimidating. Her mother and father didn’t move, paralyzed by fear. The guard’s voice was like gravel as he asked.

“Is that power from a devil fruit?”

She was just a child, bright-eyed and blissfully naive. A wide grin stretched across her face as she nodded enthusiastically.

“Yeah!” she chirped, as if proud that someone noticed her gift. “I don’t know what it’s called, but I call it the Tender-Tender Fruit! I can make people feel things I want!” She let go of her mother and stepped forward to show the big man her glowing fingers. 

“Look! I can make them feel happy or calm, anything that I want them to feel! As long as I can feel it too!”

The guard hummed thoughtfully, his cold gaze flickering back to the noble behind him. The man leaned down to whisper something in the noble’s ear, and the bubble-helmeted figure gave a faint nod. She didn’t know what they were talking about, but her excitement slowly faded as she noticed the uneasy looks her parents gave each other.

Then, without warning, the guard grabbed her arm and pulled her away from her mother. She stumbled, almost falling, but he didn’t slow down. Panic set in as her parents stayed frozen, not fighting, not yelling—just standing there, rooted to the spot with pale faces and wide, empty eyes.

“Hey, mister,” she asked, her voice soft and confused, “Hey, where am I going?” She didn’t resist, too shocked and dazed to understand. 

“We’d like you to use your powers for other people,” the guard answered flatly, not even looking at her.

She blinked up at him, trying to process it. Helping people? That was okay, wasn’t it? She liked helping. She glanced back over her shoulder and waved with a beaming smile. 

“Bye-bye, Mom! Dad!” she called cheerfully. But her parents didn’t wave back. They just watched with an expression that is quite hollow, defeated.

There were three World Nobles present that day, each of them from different families, adorned in their grotesque bubble helmets and luxurious garments, surrounded by a swarm of armed guards. By some twisted coincidence, they had decided to visit the countryside together, perhaps to flaunt their power or indulge in the exotic simplicity of rural life. 

The villagers had scattered at the mere sight of them, heads bowed low, faces pressed into the dirt. Nobody dared to breathe too loudly, fearful of attracting unwanted attention.

“Oi, that one’s mine,” he snarled, glaring at his companions. “I found her first.” A blush forming, “The immeasurable pleasure she could give me,” Slight drool escaped his lips.

The second noble, a slim, snake-like figure, scoffed and waved a lazy hand.

“You? Don’t be absurd,” he drawled. “A power like that deserves refinement,” He waved his hand in dismissal, “She’ll be my personal healer. Imagine it, never needing a doctor, always having someone to soothe away the aches of travel and pleasure.”

The third noble, a woman, clicked her tongue in annoyance.

“You men are insufferable,” she sneered. “A delicate thing like that should be kept as a pet—a precious little doll to amuse me and calm my nerves whenever I wish.”

The tension between them was thick and palpable, and their guards stood on edge, unsure whether to intervene or let the argument unfold. None of them wanted to upset their respective masters, but they couldn’t help but exchange nervous glances. World Nobles fighting amongst themselves was a dangerous affair, one that could end in death if not resolved carefully.

Finally, the first noble huffed and straightened his posture, casting a sideways glance at the small girl.

“There’s only one way to settle this fairly,” he proposed, his lips curling into a cruel smile. “We put her up for auction. Whoever pays the most can take her.”

“Fine,” the second world noble grunted. “But you better have the pockets to keep up.”

The woman merely shrugged with a bored expression, already calculating how much she was willing to spend. The three of them nodded, signaling their agreement, and one of the guards pulled her roughly dragging her toward the ship that would take her to Sabaody.

The nobles continued to bicker as they followed behind, already discussing strategies to outbid each other. To them, it was nothing more than a game, a twisted competition to see who could flaunt their wealth the most. 

The girl, meanwhile, was too stunned to fully comprehend what was happening, looking back at her parents with wide, questioning eyes. Her parents could do nothing but watch, paralyzed by fear and resignation, aware that any resistance would mean their immediate execution.

That night, she found herself in the belly of a dark ship, crammed into a small cage with chains around her wrists and neck. She didn’t understand why—why she wasn’t going home, why her parents didn’t come to get her, why everyone else around her looked so defeated and lifeless.

When they reached Sabaody, her world twisted even more. She was cleaned up, dressed in a thin, uncomfortable gown that exposed her bare shoulders, and led into the grand hall of an auction house. The stage was big and intimidating, and bright lights shone down on her like cruel eyes. People filled the room—rich, loud, and greedy—staring at her like she was nothing but an object.

The bidding started, and it was chaotic, numbers being thrown around like it was a game. People kept shouting higher and higher, but the ones she heard the loudest were the three Celestial Dragons—she had learned their proper name from the whispers of the auction house— the same ones who had been in her village that day. They were arguing with each other, each demanding to take her, fighting over her like she was a prized possession. She didn’t understand why they wanted her so badly.

Her first heartbreak came when she realized what it really meant to help these people. It wasn’t like tending to her mother’s tired muscles or making her father laugh after a hard day’s work. It wasn’t gentle or kind. It was nothing like what she imagined.

She realized, in the crushing silence of the backstage cage, that her parents hadn’t fought for her. That they hadn’t chased after her or begged for her return. They had let her go, knowing full well what awaited her at the end of that journey. Maybe they were powerless, maybe they were terrified, but the pain of betrayal cut deep, searing through her chest like a brand.

And when the final gavel hit the podium, her fate was sealed. Saint Charlos, one of the Celestial Dragons, had won the bidding war, purchasing her for an obscene amount of money. She didn’t understand why, or how, or what she’d done to deserve this fate.

That was the first time she truly understood what it meant to be powerless.

She was dragged off the stage, tears finally streaming down her cheeks as the reality of her fate settled in. The dream of helping people had turned into a nightmare, and her innocent heart could no longer bear the weight of hopelessness.

— — — — — — —— — — — — — —— — — — — — —— — — — — —

It started as a whisper. At first, she thought it was just another cruel joke—another sneer or mocking nickname thrown her way by the guards or the other slaves. 

It wasn’t uncommon for them to pick on her, especially when she was relatively new and still had that glimmer of hope in her eyes.

But when she was dragged before Saint Charlos for the first time—still trembling, still holding back the sobs that had been clawing at her throat—she heard it for real. The noble looked at her with that grotesque, wide-mouthed grin of his, his cheeks flushed red from either excitement or the wine he’d been drinking. 

He clapped his hands together like a child presented with a new toy and sauntered closer, his guards holding her in place as she struggled to keep her chin up.

“Ohhhh, my own Pleasure Doll!” he cooed in that sickeningly childish tone, bending down to peer into her wide, fearful eyes. “I’ve been waiting to see you up close. Make me feel pleasure now!”

She didn’t respond, not immediately. Her hands were shaking, and she was trying to remember how to breathe without drawing attention to the fear clawing at her ribs. One of the guards nudged her hard in the side, making her stumble forward.

“She’s a bit stubborn, my lord,” the guard apologized quickly, yanking her by the hair to force her to bow. “But she’s got the power you wanted. Just say the word. . .”

Charlos didn’t seem bothered by the lack of response. In fact, he seemed to find it amusing, his laughter bubbling up like a spoiled child’s giggle. He reached out, pinching her cheek between his gloved fingers, yanking her face up so that their eyes met.

“What’s the matter, Pleasure Doll? Not gonna smile for me?” he teased, his breath hot and rancid against her face. “You’re mine now. You’re gonna make me feel happy every day, aren’t you?”

She swallowed thickly, forcing herself not to pull away despite the sharp pain in her scalp. Her lips quivered, and she barely managed a nod, her voice coming out strained and tiny.

“Yes, my lord,” she whispered, willing her power to work through the pain and terror. Her fingers tingle faintly, and the comforting warmth washed over Charlos, making him sigh with satisfaction.

“See? Good little Pleasure Doll,” he crooned, patting her head like she was a pet. “Now make me feel pleasure .”

“I’m sorry to interrupt, sir.” One of the guards spoke up, interrupting her from using her Devil Fruit, “It is claimed that she can only give feelings she has felt before, I doubt a girl her age would know what pleasure means.”

“Oh~?” Saint Charlos drawled, eyes gleaming with a depraved curiosity, a flush rising on his cheeks.

She didn’t understand what the guard meant. Not entirely. Not yet.

But Saint Charlos’ laugh—low, perverse, and far too delighted—told her enough. There was something in that sound that made her skin crawl, something that made her fingers stop glowing.

Later that night, when the doors locked and the lights dimmed, she learned the true meaning of “Pleasure Doll.”

Not through words. But through silence. Through the way her body froze and her spirit fled somewhere far away.

She wasn’t old enough to name what happened. But she felt it—screaming in her bones, bleeding behind her eyes, trembling in her fingers. She couldn’t summon anything after that. Not joy, not calm, not even a trace of her power. It had retreated into her, too frightened to show itself.

From then on, every time he called her that name�� Pleasure Doll —something inside her cracked.

It wasn’t a title, it wasn’t affection. It was ownership. A curse disguised as praise and she had to wear it every day, smiling when told, trembling when alone, whispering apologies to herself for not knowing what to do.

The nickname spread like wildfire after that. The other Celestial Dragons picked up on it, snickering and jeering whenever they passed her in Mariejois. Charlos’ Pleasure Doll —a twisted, affectionate name meant to reduce her to nothing but a tool for their comfort and pleasure.

And every time they called her that, they expected a smile, as if the name itself was something sweet and precious rather than a chain around her throat. She hated it—hated the way it clung to her like a second skin, reminding her of how powerless she was. But she forced herself to smile through it because not smiling would lead to punishment.

— — — — — — —— — — — — — —— — — — — — —— — — — — —

It was only later—years later—that she told Ace about her God awful nickname, the first thing the young boy did was insult her. 

“Pleasure Doll?” He repeated, his face scrunching up as if trying to piece it together. Then, almost on instinct, he barked out a laugh. “Pleasure? You?”

Her gaze snapped to him, confused and almost hurt, but he didn’t give her the chance to spiral. He pointed at her, smirking with a faint blush on his cheeks.

 “Are they blind or just stupid? You’re stubborn as hell! Sometimes rude, and way too blunt for your own good!” He was practically cackling now. “Pleasure? You’re the opposite of pleasure!”

Her mouth fell open, and she looked seconds away from punching him, but he just kept going, undeterred.

“And a doll? Really? Look at you!” He gestured up and down. “You’re in the woods with the three of us, dirt on your face and leaves in your hair, looking like some kind of wild animal. If that’s a doll, I’ve been lied to my whole life!”

She couldn’t help it—she snorted out a laugh, and Ace’s grin softened, though his cheeks stayed stubbornly pink.

“You’re such an idiot,” she muttered, shaking her head.

“Maybe,” Ace shot back, shrugging, “but at least I’m not the one thinking they’re some fancy doll. You’re just you—wild, stubborn, annoying you.”

She looked at him, eyes still wet but now sparkling with something lighter, something a little more alive.

“That’s better,” he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’re more than whatever they called you. Way more.”

When she smiled—really smiled—he felt something stupid flutter in his chest, but he didn’t let it show. Instead, he just tossed a stick at her, making her yelp and snap back at him.

“Oi! What was that for?”

“For thinking dumb things,” he said, more to himself, as he stuck out his tongue. “Can’t let you get away with that.”

And when she lunged at him, ready to tackle him to the ground, he couldn’t help but laugh, because that’s what he wanted—her fire back. Even if it meant a few bruises from her relentless revenge.

— — — — — — —— — — — — — —— — — — — — —— — — — — —

The universe truly hated her. That was the only explanation.

She was there when Fisher Tiger raided Mariejois.

She could hear it, chaos unfolding beyond the gilded walls, the sounds of shouting and metal clashing. A glimpse from the corner of her eye revealed the sprawling grandeur of Mariejois crumbling, flames licking at pristine architecture, slaves fleeing in every direction as shackles hit the ground like discarded burdens.

Hope flickered in her chest, a tiny, fragile thing that dared to dream of freedom. But just as quickly as it sparked, it was crushed by the cold, unyielding grip around her wrist.

Saint Charlos’ greasy fingers dug into her skin, his clammy hand holding hers in a vice-like grip, forcing her to keep her touch on him, keeping him drunk on the fabricated euphoria that she forced herself to feel just to satisfy his demands. 

Her power was a cruel, twisted gift. It couldn’t just conjure emotions out of thin air; it had to come from her own heart, her own soul. So she forced herself to feel the ecstasy he wanted, the ecstasy she had felt from him, because if she didn’t, she knew he’d make her feel pain instead.

She couldn’t even cry. Tears would disrupt the illusion. Instead, she fixed her eyes on the mayhem outside, letting a small, fleeting wish take root. If only she could just break free, if only someone could save her.

A shudder ran through Charlos as he pulled her closer, his face pressing into her neck, his breath hot and rancid against her skin. 

“You’re mine, little slave,” he whispered, his voice low and possessive. “Your power is the most important thing to me right now. I’ll never let you go. Never. No matter what happens out there, you will never leave my side.”

His grip tightened, his nails biting into her skin, and she forced herself to smile, to play the part of the obedient, adoring servant. A hollow, empty smile that never reached her eyes.

She wanted to scream, to claw at his face, to use her power to force fear or disgust down his throat—but she didn’t dare. She could only glance at the freedom outside and cling to the pitiful, desperate hope that someday— someday —someone would tear her away from this living nightmare.

Years later, though the shackles were long gone, its ghost still haunted her—an unyielding reminder of the past she couldn’t escape, but one day a boy with a straw hat, bright, unbreakable, and relentless, will tear her away from the nightmare that had once consumed her.

— — — — — — —— — — — — — —— — — — — — —— — — — — —

In her years in Mariejois, serving Saint Charlos, there was one guard she had grown close to.

“Machi-san!”

He was her designated guard—the one responsible for making sure she was there when Saint Charlos woke up, there when Saint Charlos needed her, and there when Saint Charlos wanted her. He was the one who led her toward her own personal hell, day after day. Yet, despite being the one who chained her to this torment, Machi himself was. . . kind.

He had been her guard for about a year now, replacing the previous ones who had either been killed or reassigned to another family. Out of all of them, he was by far her favorite.

Unlike the guards before him, Machi let her bathe on her own, affording her a small sliver of privacy. He dressed her modestly—how a child should be dressed—shielding her from the prying eyes of those who saw her as nothing but a tool. He treated her like a human being, as if the “Hoof of the Soaring Dragon” branded onto her stomach was just a meaningless mark instead of a cruel reminder of her enslavement.

When Saint Charlos grew dissatisfied with her powers and forced her to the point of overexertion, her fingers wrinkling and cracking, raw and bleeding from the strain, Machi would carefully tend to her wounds, his touch gentle and deliberate, as though she were something precious and not disposable.

Without realizing it, he had begun caring for her more than he thought possible.

“Pedi-san,” Machi called out softly, his voice carrying a hint of regret as he used the vile nickname the Celestial Dragons had given her, one he despised but was forced to say. Pleasure Doll, P.D., Pedi. He wasn’t allowed to know her real name, after all. 

“Do you know what a vivre card is?”

She shook her head, wiping at her damp cheeks, Saint Charlos had been rough today, much rougher than usual, he got home demanding his Pleasure Doll because the auction house he went to did not have a mermaid slave on sale, she was overwhelmed by his emotions and had a hard time keeping up the feelings he wanted, which caused the tantrum that wounded her immensely. 

Machi pulled out a small piece of blank paper. It moved ever so slightly, as if alive, and she couldn’t help but stare at it in confusion.

“See here?” he said gently, holding the paper between his rough fingers. “This paper will always lead to its owner. Do you trust me?”

She nodded quietly, despite the tears running down her face, her small hands trembling as he pressed the paper into her palm and closed her fingers into a fist.

“I’m giving this to you,” he whispered, keeping his voice low so that no one else would hear. “The vivre card here belongs to Dragon,” He repeated the name slower so that the girl would understand.

“Dr. . . agon?”

“When the time is right, find the owner of this paper. He’ll treat you well. Tell him that Machi sent you, okay?”

“Can’t we go there together?” she asked, her head tilted with that familiar, childlike innocence that refused to fade despite all she had endured.

Machi hesitated, his heart aching at her simple question. He wanted to—oh, how he wanted to. He wanted to take her to Baltigo, to see his comrades again, to laugh and joke like old times. To be free, together. But deep down, he knew that was just a dream. A fragile, fleeting fantasy that would never come true.

He hadn’t always been nice to her, he had followed protocol in fear of being found out and disrupting the whole mission, but when he was hit by Saint Charlos because of something as measly as forgetting to open the door for Saru (their damn dog), and despite still bleeding out from his head, he was still forced to do his job. 

He dragged his aching body through the pristine halls of Mariejois, head pounding and vision blurred, but he didn’t falter. He didn’t dare.

As a personal guard for the slave, his duty was to ensure that she didn’t run or falter, to keep her compliant and at her master’s beck and call. He hated himself for it, for every time he had to look at her frightened eyes and do nothing. But it was his mission—his purpose—to stay undercover, even if it meant dragging this innocent child through hell. 

He thought she was just another pitiful soul caught in the cruel web of power, just another slave who had lost all hope. He never expected her to be the one to shatter his defenses.

But everything crumbled down one day, when he stumbled into her room, already rehearsing the words to tell her to prepare herself for Saint Charlos’ chamber, she looked up with wide, concerned eyes. He froze when she moved toward him, the tiny hands that had been used to soothe monsters now reaching out to him. 

Before he could even protest or tell her to back away, she touched his hand, her small fingers wrapping around his. A surge of warmth spread through him like a gentle tide, washing away the pain and the crushing weight on his soul. His dizziness faded, his heartbeat steadied, and for a fleeting, fragile moment, he felt at peace.

Machi looked down, bewildered, as the little girl gave him a worried frown. “Machi-san, are you okay?” she asked, her voice as soft as a whisper, laced with genuine concern that no one in this hell ever showed him.

He didn’t have the heart to answer, too caught up in the ache blossoming in his chest. Something broke inside him at that moment—a dam of guilt and regret and something horribly tender. 

For the first time in years, he couldn’t hold back the tears burning in his eyes. He was supposed to be strong, supposed to be indifferent and practical, but in the face of this child’s innocent kindness, he crumbled.

He wasn’t supposed to feel anything. He had been trained to be detached, and for the most part, he had succeeded. He watched guards come and go, watched them beat her for the smallest mistakes, watched her try to hide her trembling hands behind her back as if showing weakness would make it worse.

It started off subtle, he never questioned why she was afforded the rare luxury of her own room—nothing more than a cramped and dim space, but a privilege compared to the vast slave quarters crowded with dozens of others. 

Perhaps it was because of her power, or maybe it was because the Celestial Dragon liked to think she was his personal pet, a toy to show off to his peers. Whatever the reason, it gave her a small corner of solitude, and at night, Machi guarded that door with his life.

He knew he was breaking rules when he gave her a slice of bread one evening, after she had spent the entire day in the chamber without food. She looked at it as if she didn’t know what it was, just stared at the stale, hardened crust with wide, unblinking eyes. He almost took it back, thinking it was stupid of him to expect her to eat something so pathetic, but then she grabbed it with both hands and devoured it like a starving animal.

He hadn’t meant to give her more after that, but when he saw how she savored even the smallest scraps, he found himself slipping her bits of dried meat, an apple once in a while, and whatever else he could sneak past the kitchen guards. It was a small comfort—nothing compared to the horrors she faced every day—but it made her smile, just a little, and that was enough to make him forget the gnawing hunger in his own belly.

Sometimes, when he treated her hands after Saint Charlos’ cruel experiments, he would hum softly under his breath, an old tune from the vast seas. He didn’t think she would notice, but one evening, as he wrapped her bandaged fingers, she hummed it back to him, soft and shaky but unmistakably the same melody. He froze, staring at her as if seeing her for the first time. She looked up with hesitant eyes, unsure if she had done something wrong.

“That’s. . . a good song,” he managed to choke out, and her face lit up with a shy, fleeting smile, recognizing Bink’s Sake.

That was when he knew he had failed—failed his mission to stay cold and unfeeling, failed to keep himself from caring too much. Somewhere along the line, she had wormed her way past his defenses, and he had let her, selfishly. She wasn’t just another mission. She wasn’t just a slave. She was a little girl who had never known kindness, and he had given her scraps of it without thinking about the consequences.

He tried to justify it to himself, saying that it was better to keep her spirit alive, that the Revolutionaries would need her unbroken when the day finally came. But deep down, he knew that wasn’t the truth. He cared about her. He had grown to see her not just as a responsibility, but as a child—his child who deserved better than this hell.

And he knew that one day, it would be his undoing.

“Machi-san?” The young girl called out to him, breaking him from his thoughts of the past.

At that moment, he wasn’t a revolutionary soldier infiltrating enemy territory. He wasn’t a cold-hearted guard following the commands of monsters. 

He was just a man who saw the girl as his daughter. The look she gave him, full of trust and quiet fear, tore through every wall he had ever built around his heart.

He knelt down in front of her, his rough, calloused hands cupping her tiny face with a gentleness he didn’t know he possessed. He forced himself to smile, even though his heart was breaking, and wiped away the streak of blood that had dripped onto her forehead.

“Yeah,” he choked out, his voice shaking with something he couldn’t quite name. “We’ll try together.”

And even though he knew that he was lying—knew that he would never make it out of this mission alive—he couldn’t take that tiny spark of hope from her. He couldn’t be the one to snuff it out. So he let her dream, just once more, and swore to himself that he would give her that chance to keep dreaming, even if it cost him everything.

— — — — — — —— — — — — — —— — — — — — —— — — — — —

The day came faster than expected

— — — — — — —— — — — — — —— — — — — — —— — — — — —

Machi knelt beside her, his broad shoulders shielding her trembling form from the chaos outside. For once, she got a good look of his eyes behind the sunglasses he wore 24/7, they weren’t cold or calculating—they were gentle, filled with a sadness she didn’t understand. He spoke in a low, urgent whisper, his hand carefully resting on her shoulder.

“You’ve been told your whole life that you belong to them,” he said, his voice steady despite the turmoil in his gaze, as he held her between his hands. 

“But listen to me. You were never theirs to own. No matter what they did to you, no matter how they tried to break you—you’re still your own person. You deserve to be free.”

He looked over his shoulder, making sure the coast was clear before slipping a key into  her collar, unlocking them with a soft click .

“Run,” he urged, his voice catching just a little. “Run and don’t look back. Live. Find something to fight for that’s yours. Promise me—you’ll never let anyone chain you down again.”

She stared at him, frozen in disbelief, but he just gave her a soft, bittersweet smile and nudged her toward the door.

“Go.” He said again, much more stern, “Remember that you’re your own person.” He smiled, “And that’s enough to make you keep forward.”

And with that, he stood up, turning back to face the chaos, giving her the one thing she thought she’d never have—a chance at freedom.

— — — — — — —— — — — — — —— — — — — — —— — — — — —

“GUARD #23 ! ” Saint Charlos bellowed, not bothering to look the man in the eye. Names were beneath him. Titles were beneath him. Everyone else was beneath him.

‘ Ah. . .’ Machi thought, ‘Dragon-san, sorry for not keeping my promise to come back, but I’m betting my life on the next generation.’ 

He saw Kuma’s gentle smile. Ivankov’s defiant laugh. So many comrades, faces burned into his memory. But it was her—the girl with trembling hands and eyes too bright to belong to a slave—that filled his heart in his final moment.

And now, standing before him, was the embodiment of that oppression, Saint Charlos, red-faced and livid. The Celestial Dragon had struck Machi with the butt of his rifle, screaming for answers, demanding to know where his precious slave had gone.

But Machi didn’t flinch. He had calculated everything.

She should be running down the Red Line right about now, he thought.

Down the very escape path he had carved with his own hands.

He had bet everything on her.

Despite the horrors she had endured under the grotesque and perverse Saint Charlos, despite the bruises, the commands, the trembling, there had been something else in her eyes. A flicker. A spark. Something wild, something free, something that refused to be extinguished.

He had seen it. The way she looked at the world—not just with fear, but with hope buried deep, waiting to bloom.

And so, when the final blow came, Machi fell with a quiet smile etched into his bloodied face.

Peaceful.

Hopeful.

Because he had helped that girl—the one he’d come to love like a daughter—make her escape.

— — — — — — —— — — — — — —— — — — — — —— — — — — —

Run. Don’t stop. Don’t look back.

Her lungs burned with every breath, her legs aching as she stumbled down the steep, jagged slopes of the Red Line. Blood slicked her palms, her fingernails cracked and torn from clawing at the stone. She could taste iron in her mouth, not from a hit, not this time, but from biting down hard enough to keep herself silent. She couldn’t risk a scream. Not now. Not when she was still so close.

The wind howled around her, but inside her chest, it was eerily quiet. The kind of quiet that came before a storm—or after someone you love has left for good.

Don’t think about him. Don’t you dare think about him.

But she did.

And now, as she ran, scraping her knees, swallowing sobs, that memory clung to her like armor.

She didn’t know what was happening above. She didn’t need to.

She knew .

She knew what Machi had chosen. What he’d gambled. What he’d given up to carve this impossible path just for her.

And she hated it.

She hated that he had believed in her more than she ever had in herself.

A sob finally escaped her lips as her foot slipped. She caught herself—barely. Her hands trembled. Her body shook.

But her eyes?

Still burning.

Still alive.

With grief. With rage.

Because Machi was gone and she was still alive, left behind with nothing but the weight of his sacrifice.

— — — — — — —— — — — — — —— — — — — — —— — — — — —

It took months of sailing and pillaging through random islands, but finally, she made it. The vivre card didn’t flutter so raggedly anymore, a sure sign that the man she was searching for was near.

“Dawn Island?” she muttered, eyeing the map in her hands.

— — — — — — —— — — — — — —— — — — — — —— — — — — —

“Thank you for everything, but I think I have to g–” 

“ Staaaaay! ”

— — — — — — —— — — — — — —— — — — — — —— — — — — —

“Hey, who are you?” a kid’s voice rang out, rough and loud against the quiet lapping of water, he ran towards her from the forest.

She froze mid-step, one foot still in her boat, the other just landing on the shore that was near a forest. A boy with a straw hat stood a few meters away, hand shielding his eyes from the sun as he stared directly at her. His face was round with curiosity, but his posture was oddly fearless.

“Did you just come off that tiny boat?” he asked again, squinting.

She didn’t answer.

He took a few bold steps forward, but before he could get too close, another voice barked out from behind him. “Oi! Don’t run off like that, stupid!”

A taller boy emerged from the trees, his brow furrowed, jaw tense. He eyed her like a wild animal sizing up another—wary, guarded.

She shifted uneasily.

A third kid followed, a mop of blonde hair under a worn top hat, watching her with equal caution. His eyes flicked from her boat to her face, then down to her hands. Looking for weapons, maybe.

“I don’t know her,” the boy in the hat muttered under his breath. “She ain’t from here.”

“Obviously,” the tall one replied.

The boy with the straw hat pouted but didn’t back off. “You gonna talk or what? You mute?”

The tall one slapped him lightly on the back of the head. “Idiot. Don’t provoke her.” Another one of the kids, the blonde one, spoke up. “Yeah, that’s rude.”

Their eyes locked with hers. She could see it now—distrust and something else. These weren’t normal kids. They weren’t scared of her, but they weren’t welcoming either.

Good, she thought. Maybe they wouldn’t try to touch her.

She glanced away. “I’m just passing through,” she murmured, gripping the boat’s edge tighter. “I won’t stay long.”

“Good,” the tall one replied immediately.

“My name is Monkey D. Luffy and I’m gonna be King of the Pirates!”

The declaration rang through the clearing like a gunshot.

A second later, two fists came crashing down on his head in perfect sync.

“IDIOT!” the older boys yelled, voices overlapping in frustration. “Don’t carelessly give your name to strangers!”

Luffy stumbled back, clutching his head. “Owww! What was that for?!”

“She could be spying for someone!” the one in the red shirt snapped, eyes flicking to her with caution.

“Or worse, she could be from one of the families!” the one in the top hat added, glancing around like someone might leap from the shadows at any second.

But Luffy—stubborn, bright-eyed Luffy—just beamed at her, completely unfazed by the scolding. “But she looks cool!” he exclaimed. “Look at her scars! She’s strong, I can feel it!”

She flinched. Her eyes dropped to the ground, and her hands curled into fists. Those scars weren’t battle medals. They were remnants of survival. Chains. Branding. Punishment. Nothing worth admiring.

Don’t say that. She wanted to tell him . Don’t look at me like that.

She didn’t.

The two older boys seemed to finally take her in—truly take her in. Their eyes lingered longer now, scanning the rawness of her appearance. Her fingernails were dark with dried blood and grime. The nail beds were inflamed. Her hair clung together in tangled, greasy tufts. Her limbs were covered in scars—some pink and fading, others still red and puckered beneath haphazard bandages.

“Oi.” The red-shirted one called out, voice lower now, but firmer. “Where’d you come from?”

She hesitated. Then, with a voice as soft as the breeze, she replied, “North Blue.”

The boy stiffened. “Huh?! North Blue? Are you crazy?”

The one in the top hat stepped forward, his expression caught between disbelief and concern. “That doesn’t make sense. . . We’re in East Blue.”

She said nothing. Just stood there, arms wrapped tightly around herself.

“Who cares?” Luffy chimed in, flopping down onto the grass with the ease of someone who had never known true fear. “A blue is a blue. What’s the difference? East, West, North, South.”

The older two stared at him in silence.

“Luffy. . .” the blond one muttered, sweatdropping, “That’s. . . really not what we’re worried about.”

But Luffy only looked at his brothers with a bored expression, his pinky lifting to casually dig into his nose. With zero shame, he flicked a booger off into the bushes, entirely unbothered by the tension thick in the air. 

“She’s here now. Who cares.”

It was so simple.

She blinked slowly, almost in disbelief at the absurdity of it all—and then, against all odds, a laugh bubbled up in her throat. It started as a hiccup of a sound, escaping her lips before she could stop it. And then it grew, soft and shaky at first, but warm, so warm it startled even her.

“You’re funny,” she said, giggling now, brushing at her face as if that could hide the smile breaking through. Her voice sounded strange to her ears. Light. Unburdened, even for just a second.

“Yeah, I like her!” Luffy grinned, instantly brightened by her laughter, his grin stretching so wide it practically split his face in half. He jumped up, arms thrown into the air. “Be in my crew!”

“Huh?” Her head tilted slightly, confusion written all over her face.

“What—Luffy?! You can’t just ask random people that!” the freckled boy in the red shirt snapped, throwing his arms in the air, punching Luffy, yet again. 

“She just got here, dumbass!”

“Ahhh!” Luffy shouted, “Stop hitting me!!”

The one in the top hat, snorted. “Typical Luffy. Offers a place in his imaginary pirate crew before learning someone’s name.” He laughed at Luffy’s antics, unlike Red Shirt who resorted to violence.

But Luffy stood firm, beaming at her like she’d already said yes. “I mean it! You’re cool, I can tell. Be in my crew!”

She blinked again, flustered by the sudden attention. “But you just met me.”

“So?” Luffy asked, as if that was the dumbest excuse in the world.

“And pirates?” She turned her attention towards the other two boys, despite only knowing Luffy what could have been only minutes, she knew he wouldn’t give her the answer she wanted.

“Yeah, all three of us are going to be notorious pirates one day. Don’t let that put you off,” Top Hat added with a half-smile, tone more playful than serious. He crossed his arms and gave her a look, not quite suspicious, but certainly assessing.

“All three of you?” she repeated, eyes darting between them.

“Yeah,” The one in red scoffed, shoving Luffy lightly in the head. “I’m gonna be my own captain. No way I’m lettin’ him boss me around.”

“Same here,” Top Hat said smoothly, smirking. “We’re not joining Luffy’s crew—we’re letting him tag along with ours.”

“Hey! No fair! I said it first!” Luffy whined, arms flailing. “I’m the captain!”

“Keep dreaming, little brother,” Red Shirt muttered, ruffling his hair roughly despite Luffy’s squirming protest.

She watched them with wide eyes, stunned by how normal it all was. Their bickering was loud and chaotic and a little bit wild, but it wasn’t dangerous. It wasn’t cruel. They joked and laughed and shoved each other, but there was no fear in their eyes, no desperation in their voices. It was freedom. It was family.

Her stomach grumbled—loudly.

All three boys paused and turned to look at her. She instantly flushed, wrapping her arms around herself as if to hold in the sound. It was embarrassing, but more than that, it made her feel small. 

“Oi, weird girl, you hungry?” the one in red asked, raising an eyebrow. His tone wasn’t exactly gentle, but it wasn’t cruel either, more like a blunt warning. “Just a heads up. . . so girls like you don’t cry or nothin’. we hunt our own food around here. Got it?”

Her blush deepened, and she ducked her head, unsure whether to nod or apologize.

“Oh, come on, Ace,” Luffy chimed in cheerfully, completely unbothered by the tension. He said the name so casually— Ace —and the moment it left his lips, she froze. That name. It struck something inside her. Not the boy in front of her, but the weight of memory it carried. It wasn’t his fault. He didn’t know. 

“Don’t say my name, idiot!” Ace shouted, shoving Luffy’s face with his palm.

Top Hat—still unnamed—burst out laughing. 

“Too late now, Ace. Damage done.” Top Hat had said as Ace groaned and crossed his arms. “Can’t take you anywhere.”

“Well,” the boy with the hat grinned at her, suddenly offering something softer, something honest. “Guess the cat’s out of the bag. My name’s Sabo. What’s yours?”

She opened her mouth, hesitated—then closed it again.

Her name. It had been so long since anyone had asked. So long since she’d said it without it being barked by an overseer or recorded in a ledger or screamed in pain. Saying it had always been an act of submission.

But not now.

This was different. This time, she wasn’t reciting it as property. She wasn’t forced. She wasn’t tagged or owned. This was her choice.

She looked at Sabo, then at Ace—still frowning—and finally at Luffy, who was picking his nose again and didn’t seem to have a single thought behind his eyes.

And somehow. . . that made her feel safe.

She offered them her name, her voice a little rough from disuse. It felt strange in her mouth, strange but right.

It hung in the air for a beat. Not demanded, not judged. Just accepted.

The boys didn’t react with laughter or scorn. Luffy gave her a grin. Sabo nodded. Ace muttered something about finally having something to call her that wasn’t “weird girl.”

And for the first time in a long time, her name didn’t feel like a shackle.

It felt like hers .

— — — — — — —— — — — — — —— — — — — — —— — — — — —

Because of them, she was healing, slowly, gently, finally starting to feel safe. But in a cruel twist of fate, their paths crossed in a fleeting moment. . . and just like that, with a single glance, her former master recognized her—

and the chains she thought she'd broken clamped back around her soul.

— — — — — — —— — — — — — —— — — — — — —— — — — — —

Half the crew had scattered to the nearby stalls, laughing and bickering over ice cream flavors with Hatchan and Pappag trying to mediate. It was a rare moment of lightness, and she had quietly stepped away, drawn not by the sweets, but by the shimmer of the sea and the skyline of Sabaody Park.

She stood outside the gates, just far enough to breathe. The vibrant lights of the amusement park cast long shadows, glimmering across the ocean’s surface. It was beautiful. It was loud and messy and full of life.

She never got to appreciate the view back then—when she was young and caged, when her world had been made of cold walls and muffled screams. But now, standing here in the salt-kissed wind, she tried to let it settle into her. To believe she was truly free.

She closed her eyes, letting the sea breeze kiss her cheeks.

And then the nightmare walked in.

"Is that…?" a voice slithered into her awareness, vile and drenched in obsession.

Saint Charlos.

He was perched atop a massive, trembling slave, parading down the path like a king. His eyes locked onto her, and in an instant, the grotesque recognition contorted his features into a twisted glee.

The dual-colored strands of her hair—light and dark—glinted under the sunlight.

His favorite colors. His fixation. His favorite slave.

His voice cracked in ecstasy.

“My Pleasure Doll!”

Her body froze.

Everything stilled. The world dropped out from beneath her, leaving her floating in a slow-motion haze of dread. Her breath caught in her throat. Her feet couldn’t move. Her fingers twitched by her side.

The commotion around them dimmed. Civilians turned to look. But worst of all, her crew— her family —was close enough to hear.

“Guards!” Charlos barked. “Take a look at her! Behind the neck! See if she has my tattoo on her!”

She felt them approach. The click of boots. The shuffle of leather gloves. Fingers grabbing her hair—wrenching her head back.

She didn’t resist.

Not at first.

The cold rush of humiliation drowned her—her identity stripped from her lips, her body treated like property again. The guards yanked her hair upward, revealing the brand scorched into the back of her neck. P.D.

Pleasure Doll.

The crowd gasped. Some in curiosity. Some in horror.

But before the guards could confirm it, she moved . Swift as a bullet. Her arm shot up, grabbing one guard by the wrist and hurling him off. The other she slammed with her elbow, spinning out of reach before they could respond.

Her breathing was ragged. Her vision blurred at the edges.

“What—” the guards stumbled back, stunned.

“You’re mine!” Charlos screamed, red-faced and pointing like a petulant child denied a toy. “You’re my Pleasure Doll!”

Her fists clenched. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears. Eyes wide and shimmering. She had been seen. Unmasked.

And yet—somewhere in the back of her mind—she waited. Dread churning in her gut.

— — — — — — —— — — — — — —— — — — — — —— — — — — —

[MONTHS AGO, IN ALABASTA]

The heat was unforgiving. The desert sun bore down on them like it had a grudge, and the city streets of Alabasta buzzed with the bustle of post-war recovery. Even the wind carried heat in it.

She winced as sweat trickled down her temple, her long hair clinging to her neck like a suffocating scarf. With a groan, she pulled it up and twisted it into a lazy bun—anything to survive the sweltering weather.

She didn’t think. She hadn’t in a while. Not about that part of her, not since joining the crew. But the moment the strands lifted, the back of her neck was bare. . . and the brand caught sunlight.

Simple. Small. But unmistakable.

P.D.

A stamp of ownership. A whisper of a past she'd tried so hard to bury beneath laughter, fighting, and dreams of freedom. Her stomach twisted.

And that’s when she heard it.

“Hey, what does P.D. stand for?”

She flinched.

“Huh?” she turned, heartbeat quickening, looking at her right to see Ussop questioning her.

Luffy standing beside her with an ice cream half-melted in his hand and his head tilted in innocent curiosity. His big, round eyes blinked at her like he didn’t just trigger an earthquake under her ribs.

Before she could stutter out an excuse, Luffy’s grin stretched wide—easy and sudden, like always—and he threw an arm around her shoulders.

“It stands for ‘Pretty Dangerous! ’” he declared proudly, puffing his chest out. “Back when we were kids, She once beat Ace in a fight even though I couldn’t!!”

She blinked, while the other crewmates looked at her in awe. Was she stronger than Luffy? (She was not, it was purely luck)

Luffy gave a confident nod, his free hand gesturing wildly. “Yup! It was a secret title. Only cool people get those!”

She stared at him.

She laughed. A breathless, cracked kind of laugh, but it felt good. Like exhaling poison.

Luffy just grinned wider, pleased with himself for making her smile.

She let her hair fall again, covering the brand. Not out of shame, but. . . protection. She wasn’t ready to show it. Not yet. But the panic had passed.

“Eh, not going to tie your hair up?” Nami called from a few steps away, fanning herself with a folded map, her cheeks flushed from the heat. “My hair’s short and I still have to tie it up—you're gonna die at this rate!”

“Nah,” she said, rubbing the back of her neck with a small, absent smile. “It’s fine.”

The brand still burned.

But somehow, today—it burned a little less.

— — — — — — —— — — — — — —— — — — — — —— — — — — —

She stared, wide-eyed and breathless, the world around her turning to static as her mind reeled with disbelief.

No. No, no, no.

She was an idiot—for believing, even for a moment, that she had grown past the horrors of her childhood. That she had escaped them. That her scars had faded into something like strength. She had been foolish enough to think she was free.

But here, under the heavy skies of Sabaody, she realized she had only ever been on borrowed time.

She wasn’t free. She was shackled still.

Saint Charlos pointed his stubby, trembling finger at her, eyes bulging with grotesque delight. “Guards!” he shouted, spit flying from his fat lips. “Put the slave collar on her now!”

His words were knives, each syllable slicing open something she had worked so hard to stitch closed.

Her body stayed still, but her mind screamed, frozen in place like prey caught in the eyes of a predator. The world tilted as boots approached, the clang of metal chains echoing in her ears, too loud, too familiar. Hands grabbed at her—too rough, too forceful—and for a moment, her body flinched in instinctive submission.

But something else took over.

Her reflexes, honed from years of survival in the wild forest with three equally wild boys, ignited like wildfire. With a sharp twist of her body, she slammed her elbow into one guard’s temple. He crumpled. Another reached for her again, and she ducked low, grabbing his wrist and flipping him over her shoulder with a grunt. 

Two more advanced. Her fingers twitched, glowing faintly with a soft luminescence, and as she made contact, their bodies slackened. Sleep crept over them like a wave. They slumped to the ground, dazed and groaning.

She panted, her chest rising and falling rapidly, adrenaline pumping like lightning through her veins. But even as her body moved, her heart was collapsing in on itself. Because she could feel him, his presence slinking in like smoke.

Saint Charlos had not moved an inch from his place atop his hunched-over human transport. But as his guards fell around him, his lips curled into a grin, disgustingly calm. 

And then, before she could react, panic from fear, his pale, stubby fingers lunged forward and grabbed her by the hair.

She gasped, the sharp yank to her scalp jerking her back into place. Pain flared at her roots. The action shocked not only her but also the cowering slave beneath Charlos, who dared not move as his master leaned forward gleefully.

"You think you can run from me again?” he sneered, his bloated face looming close. His breath reeked of rot.

She trembled, not in fear of him, but in fury, in shame, in the horrifying realization that she was back at the beginning. A life she had buried clawed its way out of the ground and wrapped around her like chains.

She remembered Hatchan’s warning. His voice in her mind was like an echo: Don’t fight back.

She remembered what would happen if she resisted. The weight of the consequences. The lives that would be put at risk if she retaliated. The faces of her crew—her family —flickered in her mind.

And yet.

Saint Charlos, frustrated that his men still hadn’t gotten up, kicked one of the groggy guards, cursing under his breath. “Pathetic worms,” he snarled. “Hurry and chain her. She's mine.”

Metal scraped across the ground. She could hear it—the cold, unmistakable clatter of shackles being prepared. Her wrists twitched as her body shook, and her breath hitched.

Chains. Again.

Her knees weakened.

The sound of the clinking metal felt louder than gunfire, more deafening than cannon blasts. As the cuffs clicked around her wrists, her vision blurred.

No longer a crewmate.

At that moment, she was a possession. A plaything.

A doll.

Back to where she started.

— — — — — — —— — — — — — —— — — — — — —— — — — — —

And just like that, Camie and she were taken right out from under the Straw Hats’ watch.

— — — — — — —— — — — — — —— — — — — — —— — — — — —

“Her and Camie were taken by slave traders!”

— — — — — — —— — — — — — —— — — — — — —— — — — — —

A portion of the Straw Hat crew had stormed into the auction house in Grove 01, fury simmering just beneath the surface. The intel they’d received had led them here, desperate to recover Camie, the kind-hearted mermaid who had been taken right from under their noses, and their crewmate. Their hope had been to arrive before anything irreversible happened.

But they were too late.

Camie was bought. The number 500 million berries echoed in the air like a cannon blast. Gasps and murmurs swept through the crowd as the buyer—none other than a grotesquely gleeful Celestial Dragon—paraded the purchase with pride, his smug face nearly glowing with excitement. A mermaid. A rare treasure. A symbol of power he could abuse however he liked.

But something was missing.

Someone.

Their crewmate—she wasn’t there.

That’s when Nami's gaze flicked sharply to the side.

Her eyes darted past the main stage, beyond the gasping crowd and the grotesque preening of the Celestial Dragon. A movement. Her hair—messy, tangled—and yet unmistakable in color. A band of guards stood around her, one of them gripped a thick chain that led straight to her neck.

Nami's breath caught.

“Sanji. . .” Nami said in horror as she gripped the man’s suit, the man in question startled by her expression. 

“Nami-san, wha–” 

She pointed at Saint Charlos, the world noble who had just walked in, her hand covering her mouth, suppressing a scream. 

Unlike Camie, who stood shackled beneath the blinding lights of the auction stage, paraded like merchandise before a sea of bidding voices, one of the Straw Hat crewmates wasn’t part of the show. She wasn’t for sale—because she had already been chained right behind the Celestial Dragon. 

She stood silently behind the Celestial Dragon who now claimed Camie, her presence unnoticed by the crowd but painfully visible to those who knew her. 

Three guards held her by the arms, though she made no move to resist. There was no fire in her eyes, no spark of mischief, no trace of the warmth she used to carry. She looked hollow. The same girl who once teased Luffy and scolded him for his recklessness now looked like a ghost of herself, swallowed by a nightmare she thought she’d escaped.

“Mufufufu,” Saint Charlos danced on Hatchan’s body, his grotesque laughter echoing through the auction house. “I hit him! I finished off that fish-man!”

Blood splattered the polished floor, pooling around Hatchan’s crumpled form. His pink, spotted limbs sprawled awkwardly as pain wracked his body. Despite it all, he still gripped Luffy’s pants with one trembling hand, his breathing ragged and shallow.

“S-Straw Hat, wait. . !” Hatchan pleaded, choking on the words as blood stained his lips. “You can’t. . . ha. . . mad. This is my fault!”

Luffy’s gaze didn’t waver from Charlos, his eyes dark and unyielding, already dead set on the World Noble a few steps above.

“You promised not to get involved, even if someone was shot in front of you by a Celestial Dragon!” Hatchan gasped, his voice desperate. “I’m a pirate anyway. . . I’ve done bad stuff. . . I’m sorry for getting you guys involved.” Tears mixed with the blood on his face as he continued, his voice cracking. 

“Nami. . . I wanted to make it up to her. . . even just a little. Everything I’ve done. . . It's a mistake. I really am useless!”

Luffy’s rage was palpable, rolling off him like waves of suffocating heat.

“Pedi-chan~!” Saint Charlos sang out, oblivious to the danger standing just a few feet away. The whole auction house stayed eerily quiet, too terrified to move or even breathe. She bit her lip, wishing desperately for Camie to be brought out so she could take advantage of the chaos, break the collar and get her to safety while she stayed behind with Saint Charlos. All before Luffy noticed she was there.

“Don’t I deserve a reward? I’m only like this with you.” Charlos’s drool dripped down his chin, his beady eyes fixed on her with a sickening blush spreading across his cheeks. Her stomach twisted into knots, disgust and shame curling together in a nauseating mix. How could he ask for such a thing in front of all these people?

That’s when Luffy noticed her.

His head snapped to the side, eyes narrowing as he took in the sight, the woman he grew up with, his most trusted crewmate, standing right next to that disgusting Celestial Dragon, chained up. Luffy looked in horror before turning it into a glare that was enough to silence half the room, and his voice came out low and venomous.

“Oi.”

She froze, her heart pounding against her ribs. If looks could kill, Charlos would be nothing but dust. Luffy’s face twisted in a mix of confusion and fury. 

Why was his best friend standing behind the disgusting Celestial Dragon? 

“Pedi-chan,” Charlos cooed, his irritation leaking through his voice. “Do you know him?”

Her lips pressed into a tight line, her gaze dropping to the floor as shame burned through her. She couldn’t look at the Straw Hats, especially Luffy.

“Pedi-chan,” Charlos snapped, stomping closer and gripping her cheek with rough fingers. He squeezed hard enough to leave bruises, forcing her face toward him.  

“I asked you a question.” He let go of her face, opting to yank her hair instead. She heard a very familiar horror-filled gasp from one of her crewmates, despite the rough act, she didn’t let out a sound of discomfort.

She squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself not to tremble. Her mind raced, trying to find a way to get Camie out, to diffuse the situation, to do anything to stop Luffy from making the worst mistake of his life.

But it was too late.

Luffy was already moving, his footsteps slow but purposeful, and his eyes promised devastation.

If she answered, then everything she had tried to bury, every secret she had stuffed down and pretended didn’t exist, would come spilling out into the open. The past she fought so hard to keep hidden would be laid bare for everyone in the room to see.

Her eyes darted around, catching glimpses of other pirate crews, their curiosity piqued by the tension crackling in the air. 

If she let the truth slip out, she would be branded—the Straw Hat who was once a slave—a label that would stick until they reached the last island, and maybe even after that.

“Why is she with you?” Luffy had asked the Celestial Dragon, but he paid the lowly pirate no attention. His was captivated by his newly returned slave.

“Oi, what are you doing there?” Luffy called out again, his voice tighter than before, now aimed towards his childhood friend, and yet again, she didn’t answer. She couldn’t bring herself to meet his eyes, the eyes of the man she swore her life to, the one she called her captain. 

Did she even have the right to call him that anymore?

But she didn’t want to answer Saint Charlos either—not in front of them. Not in front of everybody.

“Pedi-chaan~” Charlos’ voice slithered into her ears like poison as he tightened his grip on her hair, forcing her eyes to widen from the uncomfortableness. “Even if you are my favorite, my Pleasure Doll,” He cooed, her crude nickname out in the open, “I have my patience.”

“The hell did he call you?” Luffy’s eyes were dark, still couldn’t comprehend the scene unfolding in front of him. 

“Oi,” He called out for the third time, “Answer your captain.”

Her heart pounded, breath hitching as she forced the words out, keeping her voice steady, void of any trembling that could make her more vulnerable than she already is.

“No. . . I don’t know them,” She swallowed, “ My Lord. . .” She blatantly ignored Luffy and answered Saint Charlos.

“Fufufu,” Saint Charlos laughed, his revolting chuckle sounding more like a gurgle. “You sound so mature since the last time I saw you as a child.”

Child.

Child.

Child. . ?

The word echoed in their mind. Heat rushed to her face, and a suffocating wave of humiliation wrapped around her like chains. She didn’t dare open her eyes, didn’t want to see their reactions, her crewmates, her friends. She didn’t want to face them. Not now. Maybe not ever.

She could feel their realization settling in like ice creeping down her spine. It wasn’t just a coincidence, it wasn't just a whim that Charlos had taken notice of her. He knew her. He had a past with her. And they didn’t want to imagine what that entailed. 

Sanji clenched his fists so tightly his knuckles turned white, and Nami’s expression twisted with shock and a glimmer of guilt, as if she blamed herself for not knowing sooner.

But Luffy—Luffy didn’t say a word. His eyes darkened, shadowed by the brim of his hat, he took another step forward, silent and menacing.

She wanted to scream, to throw herself in his path and tell him it wasn’t worth it, because if he punched Charlos, everything would be over. An Admiral would come. The crew would be annihilated.

But the words wouldn’t come. They were stuck in her throat, and all she could do was watch as Luffy strode forward, completely undeterred, completely unyielding, his fury aimed straight at the man who had once owned her.

And for the first time since she joined his crew, she was terrified, not of the consequences, not of the Celestial Dragons, but of Luffy’s wrath.

Because nothing—not reason, not fear, not even her pleading—could stop him now.

Her chest tightened painfully as Luffy reached Charlos, the Celestial Dragon too arrogant to recognize the danger hurtling toward him. And then—

The punch landed with a sickening, satisfying crunch, and Charlos was sent flying across the room, crashing through rows of seats and leaving stunned silence in his wake.

Luffy stood there, unwavering, as if daring anyone to challenge him. And she could only watch, heart torn between terror and pride.

Because that was Luffy—stupidly brave and beautifully reckless. And no matter how much she tried to deny it, she couldn’t help but think that maybe—just maybe—that was why he captivated her so completely.

— — — — — — —— — — — — — —— — — — — — —— — — — — —

Chaos ensues

— — — — — — —— — — — — — —— — — — — — —— — — — — —

They were back at Shakky’s Rip-Off Bar, but the atmosphere was suffocating. Two of their crew were gone—their captain and his beloved childhood friend. The silence stretched on, heavy and unforgiving, as the remaining Straw Hats huddled around the bar, each lost in their own thoughts. No one dared to speak.

Not after that.

Nami was the first to break the quiet, her voice small and uncertain. “She. . . was a slave?”

The words hung in the air, spoken but not truly processed. It didn’t feel real, how could it be? How could someone as strong as her, someone who had fought beside them and kept them together, have carried a burden so immense and never once let it show?

“I still don’t get it,” Usopp muttered, rubbing his face in frustration. “She never said anything. Not once.”

“Why would she?” Robin’s voice was calm, but there was something dark and simmering in her gaze, a fury barely held at bay. “Would you?”

The others fell silent. No one had an answer to that.

“It didn’t seem that Luffy knew either,” Franky rumbled, the usual brightness in his voice replaced by a grim seriousness. “He’s just as in the dark as we are.”

Chopper’s ears drooped, his tiny body trembling with guilt. “But we’re her crew,” he whispered, voice cracking. “She didn’t have to go through this alone. We could’ve—” His lip quivered. “We could’ve helped. . .”

“We didn’t know,” Franky muttered, clenching his fists so tightly that his metallic joints creaked. “Damn it, we didn’t even see the signs.”

Were there signs to begin with? Robin’s mind wandered back to Water 7, when she had opened up to them—barely— about how her Devil Fruit gave her control over emotions, how she was freely able to manipulate how she felt and how it kept her grounded. Was that a sign? Or just another mask she wore to keep them from seeing how broken she really was?

She had always been so good at hiding what she truly felt. She was their anchor, the one who could calm down Luffy and Usopp, take care of Chopper, random chats with Nami and Robin, and listen to Sanji’s ridiculous romantic gestures with a laugh. People confided in her. They sought her out for comfort. She made everyone feel safe.

But the minute they stepped onto Sabaody Archipelago, she’d been. . . different. Withdrawn. Restless. Robin should have noticed it sooner, the way she’d stayed on high alert, like prey sensing a predator.

“It makes sense now,” Brook said, his usual joviality replaced by a solemn stillness. “Why she looked at that Celestial Dragon like she had seen a ghost.”

Sanji gritted his teeth, jaw clenched so tightly it ached. “That bastard called her his ‘Pleasure Doll’,” he spat, his voice low and venomous. “What the hell did he do to her?”

No one answered.

No one wanted to.

The thought alone made Sanji’s blood boil, rage settling into his bones and refusing to leave. He had seen countless acts of cruelty on the seas, but this—this was something else. The idea of someone owning her, of someone stripping away her pride, her strength, her freedom—it was sickening.

“I’m going to find her,” Sanji declared, pushing himself up from the bar. “She shouldn’t be alone right now.”

“No.” Zoro’s voice cut through the room, firm and unyielding. “It’s none of our business.”

Sanji whirled on him, disbelief contorting his features. “The hell are you talking about, mosshead?”

Zoro didn’t flinch, eyes dark and serious. “This is between her and Luffy. We’ll just make it worse by barging in without knowing anything.”

“Aargh, you’re so insensitive, mosshead!” Sanji barked.

“Yeah! We should be there to support her, you brute!” Nami added, glaring.

“Three-sword style,” Chopper muttered bitterly, earning a confused glance from Usopp.

“Chopper, you don’t have to use Luffy’s insults when he’s not here—and that’s not even an insult,” Usopp said, sweatdropping.

“I agree,” Robin spoke up, surprisingly siding with Zoro despite the pained look on her face. “As much as it hurts to just sit here, this is something Luffy needs to handle. We have to give them space to talk it out.”

Sanji grumbled something under his breath but didn’t argue. Nami folded her arms tightly around herself, trying to ignore the sting in her chest.

“I can’t help but feel supeeeer bad for what she’s been through,” Franky said, wiping his eyes with his massive hands. “She didn’t deserve any of that.”

“She didn’t,” Robin agreed,softness in her voice. “But she didn’t want us to know. We have to respect that, at least until she’s ready to talk.”

Nami bit her lip, her voice almost a whisper. “I just hope Luffy can bring her back.”

They fell into silence once more, the heaviness returning to crush them under its weight. None of them knew what to say or how to feel. Guilt mixed with anger, helplessness mixed with regret. They wanted to be there for her, to protect her like she had always protected them.

But for now, all they could do was wait.

And hope that Luffy could somehow break through the walls she had built to protect herself.

— — — — — — —— — — — — — —— — — — — — —— — — — — —

“The epitome of freedom, that’s who you are.”

— — — — — — —— — — — — — —— — — — — — —— — — — — —

The minute the fight ended, she had run. Not toward Shakky’s Rip-Off Bar like the others, but in the opposite direction. Her feet moved on instinct, quickly carrying her to the Thousand Sunny without a second thought.

She sat on the ship’s railing, staring at the waves below. The salty wind brushed against her skin, but she felt none of it. The vastness of the sea seemed to mock her, open and unbound, while she remained trapped, the metal collar still on her neck.

She had run.

Like a coward.

She had run because she didn’t want to know what the aftermath was like. how the crew would react, how different they’d treat her after knowing something as gruesome as that. The moment Charlos called her his, there was no escaping it. The truth had been laid bare, staining her like filth that would never wash away.

Her fingers traced the old scars hidden beneath her sleeves, the ones she never spoke of. They were rough and uneven, reminders of her past that never quite faded. Her hand drifted lower to the brand on her stomach, now exposed for the world to see, the same mark she had tried to scrape off countless times. 

The skin there was raw, marred with jagged lines of failed erasure, a permanent reminder that she had once been owned.

She squeezed her eyes shut.

You’re free.

That was what she told herself every day, to drown out the voices that whispered otherwise. She had sailed across the Grand Line, battled monsters, laughed with her crew, chased dreams, she had lived. But when she knelt before them again, when her body remembered what it meant to be powerless, it felt like she had never left that cage.

And now they knew.

Now he knew.

Luffy—who had always been freedom itself.

From the moment they were kids, he had been untamed. Wild, reckless, laughing like the world could never hold him down. Even when he stumbled, he only got up stronger. He chose his path, always, never shackled by anything or anyone.

And she. . .

She was nothing but tainted and chained. Forced to be caged by her past.

Her wrists still ached with chains. The bells still rang in her ears. No matter how far she ran, no matter how much she thought she had grown, she could still feel hands on her skin, forcing her to—

“You’re thinking too much again.”

The words struck her like a whisper wrapped in thunder.

She flinched.

Her breath caught in her throat, heavy and sharp, and she didn’t turn around. Not yet. Her body froze—half in disbelief, half in dread. Of course he’d come. Of course he’d find her.

He always did.

“Found you!”

His voice rang out behind her, unmistakable, full of life and warmth and something unshakably Luffy . He called out her name with that wild, boyish grin plastered across his face, as if nothing had happened, as if nothing could ever be too heavy to bear.

“Now come on,” he said, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. “The crew’s waiting!”

His footsteps echoed on the stone floor, loud in the silence she had wrapped around herself. She didn’t move. Her back stayed turned to him, eyes locked on some invisible point far ahead, like if she just stared hard enough, maybe the past would unravel and let her go.

But she felt him draw closer anyway, his presence impossible to ignore, loud and quiet all at once, disruptive and comforting in the way only he could be.

“Luffy,” she started out, still not looking back at her captain, ashamed. “I’m not coming back.”

He didn’t reply immediately, and that silence felt heavier than anything else.

Finally, his voice came, steady and determined. “As your captain, I order you to come back.”

She let out a bitter laugh, fingers trembling as they gripped the fabric of her pants. “I won’t,” she whispered, still refusing to meet his eyes.

“Will do.” 

“Will not!” 

“Will do!” 

“Will not!”

“Why not?!” His tone was louder, but there was that childishness that never seems to disappear whenever he’s with her and vice versa. She could hear his footsteps approaching but not too close.

Her chest tightened painfully. “Saint Charlos likes me enough to forgive you all if I ask him nicely.” Her voice wavered, and she grimaced at the thought, knowing what ‘nicely’ truly meant when it came to the World Nobles. “It’s safer this way, Luffy.”

She didn’t notice when he moved, but suddenly he was beside her, sitting on the railing like it was the most natural thing in the world. His shoulder brushed against hers, but he didn’t force her to look at him.

“I don’t care.”

Her breath caught again.

Luffy leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. He wasn’t looking at her, just gazing out at the sea like he was waiting for the next adventure.

“I don’t care about an admiral coming out to get us,” he said. “I don’t care about the Celestial Dragons.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but he kept talking, his tone unwavering.

“I don’t care if the whole world comes after us. You’re my friend. My nakama. I’m not leaving you behind.”

Her throat tightened, and she couldn’t help the tremor in her voice. “You don’t get it. . . It’s not just about me. It’s about you guys.” Anger was evident in her voice. “Don’t you remember what Aokiji did to the crew? it’ll hurt everyone. It’ll hurt you.”

Luffy glanced at her, and there was something uncharacteristically serious in his gaze. 

“I don’t care about getting hurt.”

“Luffy,” she said sternly, her voice uncharacteristically serious. “Don’t be an idiot.”

“I’m not an idiot, idiot!” Luffy shouted back. 

“I’m just a ticking bomb in your crew! I’m not a top-tier, talented navigator like Nami, or someone as smart as Robin who can read Poneglyphs.” Her hands clenched around the fabric of her pants, knuckles going white.

“Sanji’s the best cook I’ve ever seen—and I’ve seen the best of the best, Luffy.” Her voice shook when she thought about the opulent feasts she’d witnessed at the Holy Land. “Zoro’s going to be the greatest swordsman to ever live. Franky’s mentor built the ship of the Pirate King! Ace’s dad—the King of the Pirates himself!”

Her voice broke slightly, but she forced herself to keep going. “Chopper’s a doctor, someone we’d all die without. Usopp’s got aim like no one else, and his dad is on a Yonko’s ship! Brook is the musician you wanted from the very beginning of the journey. Everyone has something—everyone’s amazing!”

She choked back a sob, trying to be stern as she glares down at her trembling hands. “And me? I’m not anything, Lu.” 

Luffy stared at her, his mouth set in a firm line. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him, too busy digging her nails into her palms to stop herself from falling apart completely.

The silence was killing her. 

“So just leave m–”

A fist came down on her head, not hard enough to hurt, but firm enough to get her attention. She yelped, yet still not looking at his direction..

Luffy’s lips twisted into a frown, and his brows furrowed. “You’re so stupid,” he said bluntly, his tone blunt and a little annoyed. “You think I pick people for my crew because they’re useful?”

Her mouth opened, but no words came out.

“You think I wanted a navigator because she’s the best? Or a swordsman because he’s the strongest?” Luffy crossed his arms, his gaze unwavering. “I pick people because I like them and think they’re cool!” Her chest tightened at his words, and she clenched her fists. 

“You’re saying that ’cause I’m having a crisis over here,” she snapped, glaring at the hardwood of the Thousand Sunny. “I’m just the girl you felt bad leaving back in Mount Colubo.”

Luffy looked ready to protest, but she didn’t give him the chance.

“I never wanted to be a pirate anyway,” she whispered, more to herself than to him. “You’re the one who manhandled me and dragged me to your small boat when I was just on the shore with Makino and the others, so do me a favor and let me be.”

Yes, he did, he dragged her into this grand adventure, but she loved Luffy, never had she once hated being a part of a crew like The Straw Hat Pirates. 

She had to lie, she had to convince Luffy that she hated this, that he should just leave her be.

Luffy didn’t say anything, just watched her with that same unwavering gaze. It made her chest feel tight, made the truth dig its way to the surface, scraping her raw.

He never made her feel like she had to fight. Never made her feel like she had to be stronger, or better, or worth something. It was never about that with him. He just wanted to be around her, in that simple, unshakeable way that was just so. . . Luffy.

She bit her lip hard, trying to stop the trembling. Luffy had shown her how fun it was being a pirate. It wasn’t about piracy and pillaging—it was about what grand adventure they could have next. Never looting or power. To be a pirate—the pirate, The Pirate King—was to be the freest person on the sea, chasing dreams without restraint.

She got a taste of that freedom. She loved that freedom. She loved Luffy.

She waited for Luffy’s back talk, but what she felt instead was his fist. A solid punch straight to her face—so sudden and forceful that it sent her flying and knocked her sideways, blood trickling from her nose.

“What are you—” She shouted, her hand coming up to her face in disbelief.

“Tell me what you want,” Luffy demanded, his voice uncharacteristically firm.

“I told you already!” she spat back, wiping the blood onto her shirt. “I hate being a pira—”

“NO!” Luffy’s shout cut her off, loud and raw, vibrating with an intensity that made her heart lurch. He wasn’t looking at her with pity or worry or anything soft like that. Instead, his eyes were blazing, fierce and unyielding, like he was daring her to lie to him again.

“Tell me what you want,” he repeated, and it wasn’t just an order—it was a challenge. A call to face herself.

Her hands trembled in her lap, fingers clenching. Her vision blurred as tears finally broke free, rolling down her cheeks despite how tightly she tried to hold them back. 

She finally looked up, but still couldn’t look at him, not directly, so she kept her face angled away, even though she knew he could see her crying.

“I. . .” Her voice cracked, barely a breath above silence. The words sat heavy in her chest, too full of ache to push through. But she had to say it, she needed to say it.

“I wanna be free.”

Luffy didn’t speak. He didn’t move. He just watched her, like he always did when someone was trying to find the words. His eyes weren’t demanding or impatient—they were just there , wide and steady, offering her space, warmth, and the quiet comfort to keep going.

“I want to eat Sanji’s cooking. . .” she said at last, soft and trembling.

“Yeah,” Luffy nodded, voice just as soft. “Sanji’s cooking is the best.”

“I want to know what Robin’s reading,” she continued, the dam finally breaking, “and hear her weird little morbid facts. . .”

“She’s always reading weird stuff,” he laughed lightly, eyes closed, as if the thought warmed him too.

“I want to see Nami yell at you about how much meat you ate last night.”

“Whaaat? That’s what you remember?” Luffy pouted, but he was smiling. “You’re weird.”

“I want to hear Usopp’s stories—see how crazy they get. I want to see Chopper panic over a papercut, and get shy when someone calls him a great doctor.” Her voice wobbled, tears blurring her vision. 

“I want to see Franky build something unnecessarily huge and completely impractical. I want to hear Brook’s songs at night and see you laugh so hard your hat falls off.”

Luffy’s expression softened, but he still didn’t say anything. He just let her speak.

“I want to see Zoro get lost ten steps from the ship. I want to see him and Sanji argue over nothing. . . and you just sitting there, ignoring them while you stuff your face.”

“Mhmm! that’s important stuff,” he said with a grin. “Meat waits for no one.” As if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Her voice wavered, but she didn’t stop. “I want to see you become King of the Pirates!”

“Is that so?” Luffy asked, the corner of his mouth quirking up just slightly.

She wiped her face roughly with the back of her hand. “So that you can achieve your crazy dream.”

“I’ll do it!” Luffy declared, his grin now stretching wide and fearless.

“I wanna be with you guys!” She shouted, the words leaving her in a desperate rush.

She finally looked at him, and he gave her that familiar grin, wide and fierce, she felt like crying more, that damned smile that always gives her comfort, oh how she would want to give back to Luffy someday. 

“Luffy,” she finally whispered, her voice shaking, “I’m. . . scared. Scared that one day you’ll realize I’m not worth it. That I’m just a burden. That I’m too useless to be part of your dream.”

Luffy’s face softened, and he stepped forward, poking her forehead with his knuckles, just hard enough to make her wince.

“Stop being an idiot,” he said with the brightest smile she had ever seen. “I decided a long time ago that you’re my friend. You’re stuck with me now. Doesn’t matter if you’re broken or scared or whatever. You’re here, and that’s enough.”

She stared at him, disbelief and hope warring in her expression.

“And you know what?” Luffy added, a hint of determination in his tone. “If you’re scared, then just rely on me. I’ll fight anything that tries to take you away—even your own doubts. ’Cause that’s what a captain does. I’m gonna be the Pirate King, and that means keeping my friends safe—even from themselves.”

Her throat closed up, and tears burned in her eyes. Luffy didn’t falter, just kept grinning at her like he had never doubted a word he said.

“Luffy. . .” She whimpered. Her hands trembled in her lap, and her vision blurred. “This isn’t like Enies Lobby, You don’t understand—”

He cut her off, his voice unwavering. “Yeah, I don’t.”

She froze.

“You don’t have to carry it alone,” he said, his tone softer now. “You don’t have to keep running away. I’m your captain, what I say goes. That means I’m not letting you leave. I’m not letting anyone take you. Ever.”

His words tore through the walls she had built around herself, crumbling her defenses to dust. She covered her face with her hands, her shoulders shaking. It wasn’t just the fear or the shame, it was the helplessness of being loved despite everything. Despite being broken and scarred and stained.

Luffy didn’t move to comfort her or force her to speak. He just stayed beside her, his presence solid and unwavering. That’s how he always was—like the sun, stubbornly bright, never letting darkness linger.

“I thought I was free,” she finally whispered, voice cracked and raw, she reached her hand out, towards the sky, towards nothing. “But seeing him again. . . Knowing he’s been searching for me, moving some strings to catch me, I felt weak and useless and—”

“You’re not weak.” Luffy’s voice was fierce, cutting through her spiraling thoughts. 

“You’re strong. You’re one of my nakama. You fight with us. You laugh with us. You’re strong enough to keep going, no matter how hard it gets. That’s why you’re on my crew.”

She didn’t have words for that. She didn’t know how to respond to someone who looked at her scars and didn’t see damage but survival. Someone who would fight the whole world just to keep her safe.

Luffy leaned back, staring up at the sky. “You don’t have to be okay right now. But you don’t have to be alone, either.”

She let out a shaky breath, her heart aching, but for the first time, it wasn’t from fear or regret. She wiped her eyes, looking at him through blurred vision. 

"That’s easy for you to say, Luffy." Her voice came out strained, like something fragile on the verge of breaking. "You don’t know what it’s like. . . to be treated like you’re less than human."

A shadow crossed his face, and for a moment, his eyes turned distant—thoughtful in a way she rarely saw.

"You’re right." His voice was quiet, but steady.

She froze.

"But I know you."

Her heart lurched painfully, caught between disbelief and something that felt a little too much like hope.

"You’re not just ‘someone who was owned.’" Luffy took a step closer, his tone firm, almost defiant. "You’re not ‘tainted.’ You’re not ‘chained.’"

She looked away, fists trembling as she tried to rein in the flood of memories—days when pain was all she knew, and survival was the only instinct left.

But he didn’t let up.

“You’re you.” His voice was warm, gentle—like sunlight breaking through storm clouds. She finally looked up, and there he was, grinning so wide it made her stomach lurch.  “And that’s enough for me.”

Her breath caught, and she couldn’t help but wonder how he could say that so easily, like he wasn’t talking about someone who had been broken beyond recognition. Someone who had clawed her way to freedom only to find herself drowning in guilt and self-loathing.

Something inside her cracked, a hairline fracture in the armor she had worn for so long. A fleeting memory surfaced, back when she had felt the first taste of hope.

“Go.” He said again, much more stern, “Remember that you’re your own person.” He smiled, “And that’s enough to make you keep forward.”

She forced herself to look at him once more, searching for any sign of doubt. But his eyes—so open and unguarded—held nothing but certainty.

A sob caught in her throat, tears stinging her eyes as she tried to make sense of it all.

She had spent years convincing herself that she was broken—that being owned and used had left her too damaged to ever belong anywhere. She had buried her feelings so deep that even she couldn’t find them anymore. But Luffy—Luffy saw straight through her walls, like they didn’t exist at all.

It didn’t make sense. Why did he care so much? 

Her parents hadn’t thought she was worth it. The people she’d begged for help from hadn’t thought she was worth it. No one ever did.

But Luffy—

He didn’t see her that way at all.

He just grinned, wide and sure, like he had never doubted it for a second.

"You’re one of us."

His words landed gently, but they shook her to the bone.

Before she could respond, before she could even blink, he stepped forward and reached up, placing his hands gently on either side of her head. The gesture wasn’t rough or forceful. It was careful. Delicate, in a way she wasn’t used to.

She flinched slightly at the contact, out of habit more than fear, but he didn’t waver. In his fingers, he held the small set of keys they’d fought so hard to get. The ones meant to unlock chains that should never have existed.

He found the lock behind her neck without fumbling.

And with a soft, almost imperceptible click— The collar fell away.

And just like that—

The weight crushing her chest lifted, just a little. It wasn’t gone, but it didn’t suffocate her like before.

And when she looked up, Luffy was still standing there, smiling, bright and unwavering. "Come back. Everyone’s waiting. They’re worried about you."

A weak, trembling smile pulled at her lips, and she finally nodded. "Okay."

Luffy hopped down from the railing, holding his hand out without a moment’s hesitation. And she took it, fingers curling around his, feeling something warm seep into her frozen heart.

He pulled her to her feet, and as they made their way back to the others, she couldn’t help but glance at him, wondering how someone like him could exist in a world so cruel as she let him pull her back to the crew, back to the family she never knew she needed.

— — — — — — —— — — — — — —— — — — — — —— — — — — —

One day, in a land where samurais were born, she would look upon her captain—the boy she had followed across the endless sea—and see him laughing, his body moving with an untamed rhythm, a grin stretched wide that it seemed humanely impossible. And in that moment, something deep within her would shatter.

The wild, flowing hair, so different from the messy strands she had always known. The billowing clothes, the way his form stretched and twisted like a figure pulled from a dream. The eyes, burning, radiant, a different color than it should be.

She recognized him.

Back when her wrists were bound and her voice was nothing more than a whisper between cracks of a whip, she had begged for salvation. For a god who would break her chains—not with fire and fury, but with laughter so vast it swallowed the cruelty of the world whole. The stories whispered in the dark, the legends passed from slave to slave—of a god who danced and laughed even in the face of suffering.

Joyboy.Sun God Nika.The Warrior of Liberation.

And he had answered. Not from the heavens, not as an untouchable deity—but as a reckless boy with a straw hat and an impossible dream. A boy who had never cared where she came from, only that she was free to go wherever she wanted.

Her hands trembled as she watched him move, the very embodiment of the legend she had clung to in the darkest corners of her past.

Her salvation hadn’t come from some distant god.

It had always been him. And maybe—just maybe—she had been free from the moment he first smiled at her.

[yeyinde]

John Price | masterlist

omega verse : bury your teeth in me baby trap : when your need grows teeth

ONESHOTS

—baby blues —past and pending —ode to a conversation stuck in your throat —fineshrine —underdressed —on the flipside —barking dog —sea fever —willow tree march —in dreams —ferromagnetism

SERIES

—neon medusa : INCOMPLETE | 18﹢ (cyberpunk au)static in the airwaves. warning sign —caught : COMPLETE | 18﹢ (Price catches you) audience | circle the drain

DRABBLES

—very dubcon D/s —national park after dark w/ John Price | hiking ; bait & switch —blackmail —down on her luck!Reader kidnapped by Price —regency era Price —seducing reluctant alpha Price —riling Price up —marriage counsellor Reader | part ii —counsellor Reader —Winter Solider AU —Father John Price —producer!Price x Starlet!Reader —kidnapped by Price —Price x reserved Reader —cybernoir au —demagogue Price x princess!Reader —Price lets his team fuck his wife —Price + camgirl —manipulative Price ruining your life so gets to keep you —best friend's dad Price —regency Price au | pt ii —PriceReaderGhost —wet —better from above —textbook —big bear —kilos —care package —getting spanked by Price —cold, cold, cold —reverent —positive —wicker pyre

HEADCANONS

⧽ SPIT TAKE | VOICE KINK | SLOW DANCE | BATTLE SCARS | PREG!READER

SFW ALPHABET

[sweets3rial]

HIHI!! I just wanted 2 say that I LOVE LOVE LOVE your tutor fic! I’m obsessed with leon in the fic, even if he’s ooc. literally I’m foaming at the mouth for everything about it. feral. on my knees, barking, crying, screaming and need to be put down. keep up the good work babes! oh, also also, I want to ask (you don’t have to if you don’t want to!) if we can get a little sneak peak of what’s in the works for pt.2 of the tutor in dorm 24B? anywho, take care and stay safe!

the tutor in dorm 24B (II) preview!!

maybe you two could become friends. 

he thinks he’d be okay with that. 

of course that isn’t okay, you couldn’t be friends. god, he’s seen more of you than most of your friends have in all the years they’ve known you. you don’t have sex with your friends. you don’t daydream about their lips on your bare skin. you don’t writhe and whine at the memories of them touching you. friends don’t kiss and make love. 

so no, you couldn’t be friends with Leon. you couldn’t be anything with him. it might be cold, but you couldn’t let yourself get attached. so yes, you’re avoiding him. you sent an email to your professor lying about having to take up multiple jobs, you picked up more shifts at work so that way you wouldn’t run into him around campus, and the days you don’t work you’re volunteering. 

and when you weren’t volunteering you were walking around downtown, daydreaming like a girl in love. daydreaming about his smile and his laugh, his long blonde strands and the mark his glasses left on his nose bridge, the color of his eyes, his broad frame, and how he felt on top of you. 

how his kisses felt — warm lush lips leaving wet trails down your stomach and at your inner thigh. his gasps of pleasure, so close to your ear, and the way he held you. you groaned to yourself, slapping your book down and bringing your face into your hands. 

maybe, it was more than one night. maybe it was many nights and days all put together in one. all the tension, all the small stares, all the taunting and teasing. maybe it was more. 

a/n: thank you so much anon! thank you for enjoying my work and salivating over it (´∀｀)!! you ask so you shall receive :D! here's a small preview, i haven't finished the entire thing yet but seems like there's some tension (╯•ᗣ•╰)!! what will happen? stay tuned (‿!‿) ԅ(≖‿≖ԅ)!

read pt. 1 here :D!!

[just1cefor4ll]

hello, I saw your reader who lives in the phantom universe fic and can we please get a pt 2 where reader gets transported back with them and starts school? Reader gets bullied because they haven't seen people for a long time and their social skills are lacking. You can ignore this if you want.

Thank you ❤

Tyler Hernández x reader part II

Part I

warnings: swearing, bad grammar, reader gets bullied, fem!reader

genre: angst with fluff at the end

A/N: if you want an Aiden version, message me<3

translations: hermosa-beautiful, mi reina hermosa- my beauiful queen, amor,mi amor- love, my love, mi vida- my life

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You groan, rubbing your aching head and hiss in pain as the warm summer sun hits your eyes like daggers. Wait. Warm summer sun? You quickly rise to your feet but stumble back, landing straight on your ass. “What the fuck? Is this what I think it is?” Your hands go through the soft grass, the wind brushing your skin making the temperature just right. Your heart beat quickens as you look around, seeing the oh so familiar house you last saw years ago. You shakily stand up and walk to the house. The door was just a few inches away, yet something was stopping you from knocking; “What if they moved on?” “What if they won’t want me anymore?”

You knock on the door softly and you hear a dog barking and footsteps; “We have a dog?” You wonder but freeze as you hear the door unlocking, and there she was; your mother. “Um, are you—” You get cut off by a bone crushing hug; “Oh Y/N my baby, you.. your back.. my baby..” She sobs into your shoulder as you stand there awkwardly, patting her back. She grabs you by the shoulder and looks at you with puffy eyes; “Where have you been all these years? Look at you! So grown up. Your hair..” She starts to ramble and you look at the house, your pictures still there, your baby photos.. everything was the same. Another pair of footsteps is heard throughout the house and you look past your mom’s shoulder. “Honey who was… it.” Your father drops everything on the floor and runs to you, engulfing you into a big hug, spinning you around. “Y/N I can’t believe it’s you.. you’re okay? Where have you been?” You look at them, your whole body trembling. “I must be dreaming.. this can’t be right.. i’ve bee stuck in that place for so long I must be hallucinating..” You mumble underneath your breath, your knees giving out.

Your parents look at you concerned, your mother going to get something while your father rubs your back soothingly, trying his best to comfort you. Your mother crouches down next to you and lifts your chin up to look at her. “It’s okay baby you’re home.. this is real okay?” She says and hands you a worn out stuffed toy. Your heart melts as you recognize the old thing, hugging it close to your chest. You stay there in their embrace for what feels like hours, not even noticing the fact you fell asleep. The next day you thought you would wake up back in that terrible place, but you didn’t. You woke up in a soft bed, warm blankets on top of you. You recognize the scent of the room immediately and smile softly. “Home..” You mumble and lift yourself up from the bed, your feet hitting the cold ground making your body shudder.

You walk downstairs, your parents making breakfast. You yawn and sit down in the living room, the dog jumping to lay beside you. A second later your mom and dad walk into the living room, handing you your breakfast with a quick kiss on the cheek from your mom. “Good morning, sleep well?” You nod and munch on your breakfast. ‘Finally decent food’ You think to yourself and finish eating. “Wow that was quick.” Your dad jokes and you smile, putting the dishes in the sink and walk back. “Soo.. I was thinking we could go shopping today? Since you only have your old clothes that probably will not fit you at all?” And so it was set!

You had a lot of fun shopping, you saw how styles have changed and well.. how everything has changed. Then it hits you; the other must be worried sick. You disappear into thin air and they don’t know where you are. “I should ask my mom if she knows her parents.” You think to yourself and look at your mom who was now driving you guys back home. “Wow we really sure spent a lot didn’t we?” She jokes and you chuckle awkwardly; “Um mom? Do you by any chance know the Banner family?” You ask and fiddle with your sleeves. She looks at you confused; “Oh they’re our neighbors, why? How do you know them?” “Oh um I saw them when we were going to the car!”

She looks at you unconvinced but drops the subject; “Well if you want we can invite them over? Their daughter Ashlyn is your age!” She smiles enthusiastically and starts to ramble about what she will make for dinner. And so dinner came around, your mother was cooking your favorite and you were setting the table while your dad was just watching TV. “Y/N honey I think they’re here, could you go open the door?” “On it.” You say and run to the door, and there she was; Ashlyn. You smile at them kindly and let them in, Ashlyn looking at you with a “what the fuck” face and you shrug. “Mom, me and Ash are going upstairs!” You don’t give her time to reply and drag Ashlyn to your room, shutting it behind you. “Where have you been!?” She whisper yells and paces around your room. “We were worried sick! Especially Tyler! He’s been going crazy for the past 2 days!” She says and sits down on your bed. You look at her and shrug; “I wish I could tell you how I got here but I really don’t know. I don’t go back at night like you do tho but I guess you’ve noticed that.” She nods and drops the topic for now, talking to you about school and who to avoid. You were starting school tomorrow and to say you were nervous was an understatement. You and Ashlyn would meet up every morning at the bus stop and go to school together along with Aiden and Ben.

The next day it’s just like you planned; meet up with Ashlyn and go to school together. You sat next to her after getting yet another bone crushing hug from Aiden and just a simple wave from Ben who in his own way was glad you were okay. Aiden yapped the whole way to school but you didn’t mind, it was nice being with them again. You were nervous about seeing Tyler. Would he be mad? You don’t know.

You walk with the others to the office to get your schedule which was basically the same since you’re in the same class. Suddenly the halls get crowded, people arriving in school and you get separated from the others, loosing them in the giant crowd. You look around frantically searching for them and try to push through the crowd mumbling quick a ‘sorry’ or ‘excuse me’. You get pulled back into a bathroom by a black haired boy. He was fairly tall and had shoulder length hair. “I um.. Hi..” You say and fiddle with your hoodie. “Hey newbie you looked like a damned lost puppy in that crowd.” He smirks and makes you back up into a wall. “I.. uh.” “Well what’s your name?” He says and put his arm next to your head, basically caging you there with him. “My name.. it’s ..the.. uh.. I mean it’s Y/N.” You say, slapping yourself internally at the awkward interaction. The boy laughs and goes to speak when another very familiar voice spoke up; “Hey you fucking asshole leave her alone.” He gets pushed off and you scatter to the door of the bathroom, watching Tyler beat the boy. You grab him by the shoulder and speak up; “We should.. go..” Tyler stands up, breathing heavily and leads you away.

Once you get away from the crowd he pulls you into a loving kiss. “You don’t know how much i’ve missed you mi reina hermosa.” He says and hugs you, lifting you up and spins you around. You chuckle and hug him back, kissing him on the cheek. “I missed you too Ty, let’s go to class we can talk later okay?” You say and smile at him, taking his hand and interwine your fingers. He leads you to the class and you get there just in time before the bell rings. You get pulled in front of the class by the teacher and you look down at the ground nervously. “Students this is our new student Y/N L/N, treat them with kindess even if they arrived in the middle of the year.” He says and smiles at you kindly. “Now go ahead and introduce yourself.” Your face feels hot and you stutter our a quick sentance; “Mynameisy/nandIliketolistentomusic.” You say and regret even speaking as most of the class starts to laugh. The teacher shuts them up and you quickly sit down in your seat, resting your head down on the table and try not to think about this awkward day.

And after that day the bullying began. You would get called names, people fake stuttering when talking to you and fiddle with their hands. You laugh awkwardly about it, not knowing how to protect yourself when Tyler wasn’t there to shut them up. You didn’t want to depend on him so you kept quiet about it and bottled up your emotions. Tyler quickly noticed your change in behavior. You were more quiet then usual and you weren’t as talkative as you were when you were in the phantom realm.

One day you were hanging out at his house, him laying on top of you while you played with his hair. He looks up at you with hooded eyes and flips you both so you were now the one on top of him. “Amor what’s up with you lately?” You raise a brow as a sign for him to continue. “Well, ugh.. just.. you’ve been so distant lately and you don’t talk as much as you did before.” He says and sits up, cupping your cheek and traces loving circles on it. “You know if somethings going on you can tell me, right?” He says and smiles softly. You contemplate what to say, should you tell him the truth? Well he already knows something is going on so it would be better if you did. But what if the bullying didn’t stop? What if it only gets worse? You shake off those thoughts and sigh, beginning to speak and tell him everything.

How the bullying started, who bullies you, how they bully you, literally everything. You ramble on and on, trying your best to tell him that it’s nothing but he shuts you up with a quick peck on the lips. “Y/N this is serious you know? It’s okay to be nervous around people. I mean, how long have you been without human contact aside me and the rest of the group?” He asks and you stay silent and frown. “Exactly. I promise to be here for you from now on and I am so sorry I haven’t been this entire time mi vida.” He says and pulls you into a warm embrace, inviting you to let out all of your emotions, which you do. You sob and ramble for what feels like hours on end and calm down after talking about it some more with Tyler. Your eyes were puffy and you looked away from him and joke; “Don’t look at me i’m probably not the prettiest sight right now.” You chuckle and wipe away your tears.

He pulls you closer by the waist and peppers your face with kisses, making you giggle. “You.Are.The.Most.Prettiest.Girl.In.The.World.” He says im between kisses and gives you one last kiss on the lips. “But really mi amor if anyone bothers you from now on come and tell me, but I will be by your side most of the time now okay?” Your hearts mealts and nod, laying back down with him and think to yourself; “Home at last..”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

Hit ‘Em Up! (18+ Fic)

Pairing: Cowboy!Gojo Satoru x Cowboy!Geto Suguru x Black!Cowgirl!Reader (Slow Burn/Enemies to Lovers)

Synopsis: You get to meet Geto & Gojo the Gunslingers, the notorious outlaws that have every town and law enforcement in a twist, when your bum-ass BF offers you as payment to avoid going to prison. Little do they know that this is only a part of your plan to get what you desire. But when you realize that the infamous gun-slinging, smooth-talking cowboys could be everything you want and more when they offer you a deal to team up with them, will you successfully be able to go through with it? 

Warnings: Smutty Smut; 18+ (MINOS GTFO); poly!SatouSugu; Reader is Black & Fem; Mention of other JJK characters; Porn with Plot; Tragic Backstories; T/W for Childhood Trauma, Parental Death, Violence, Panic Attacks & Torture; Angst/Hurt/Comfort; Hand Kink; Masturbation; Voyeurism; Gay Sex; Polyamorous; Double Deepthroat; Mutual Oral; Fingering; CMNF; Spitroast; Riding; Unprotected PiV Sex; Creampies; Outside/Public Sex; Shotgunning; Multiple Positions; Spit Kink; Facials; MDom/fsub Undertones; Aftercare

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer's Note: LISTEN TO BEYONCE'S NEW ALBUM. -Jazz

Chapters: One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen. Eighteen PT I & II. Nineteen. Twenty. Twenty-One. Twenty-Two. Twenty-Three. Twenty-Four. Epilogue + Soundtrack.

********

FOUR: SHE A TYRANT.

You pause, wondering if you heard Gojo correctly or if Valentine smoked you after all. “Come again?” you ask. 

Your eyes switch like ping pong balls between the handsome strangers, wondering who will make the first move. Geto bites back a laugh while Gojo cackles to himself. “We said,” he repeats, humor in his tone which pisses you off, “we are here for you.” 

You pause, processing their confusing words. “For what?” you bark. “To kill me? Have your way with me? ‘Cause I don’t roll like that, especially with outlaws.”

Gojo shoots Geto a look, winking at him. “We know,” he chuckles. “You kill ‘em dead instead…which I’m kinda curious about. Why is that you–” 

“That’s none of your business!” you snap. He puts his hands up higher. 

“How do y’all even know where I was?” you demand, more upset than anything about your secret identity being exposed. You thought you were more careful! You’ve kept your face hidden behind a bandana for years as the Femme Fatale, never coming out of it unless you’re alone or no one knows who you are. You thought you were safe in Blackwater. 

“It ain’t hard to ask around,” Geto explains. “We blew into Blackwater after a couple of folks in the next town over said they saw you headin’ South. Since this is close by, we figured if you weren’t here, you’d at least be seen here.”

He gives you a smile, sweet despite the situation at hand. “How lucky were we to have found you?” he chortles. 

You keep the gun trained on them, cocking it. “Seriously?!” Gojo scoffs, glaring at you. “After we already put down our guns, you still wanna kill us?!” 

“I don’t trust outlaws,” you growl. “I’ve been waitin’ for y’all to come here to get Valentine, so I can finally cross y’all off my hit list…but I need some questions answered first.”

You watch the duo give you a questionable look. “I wanna know where Benji The Bandit is,” you say, your voice steely and cool. “Ya’ll work for him, correct?” 

The duo share a troubling look with each other at the mention of their boss and the eviliest man in the wild, wild West. He robs the rich and the poor; decimates towns and villages; has killed dozens. Legend says that he can show up in a town only once and scare its civilians into silence which is why the law has been chasing him for nearly two decades now. Nobody will ever give up Benji the Bandit’s whereabouts unless they have a death wish. 

“We did to work for him,” Geto answers, correcting you much to your dismay. “We did his dirty work for two years until he gave us a mission that we had to refuse.”

You cock your head to the side, curious. “And what was that?” But the duo stays silent on that and you sigh, exasperated. “Fine, don’t tell me that, but at least me where he is.” 

“We’re just as clueless as you, doll,” he says with a shrug. “We’ve been lookin’ for him for three years since we left him, but you know Benji: if he don’t wanna be found, he won’t be. Now may we ask you some questions?” 

“No,” you hiss, pissed that you didn’t get what you wanted. “I don’t wanna find out why y’all are here for me. Frankly, I don’t care and now you two definitely have to go if you know who I am.”

Even through his blindfold, you can see Gojo roll his eyes. “Drama queen,” he mutters. “We won’t tell anyone.” 

You squint at them, sizing them up. “How can I be so sure?” you ask suspiciously. “How do I know that if I let my guard down now, y’all won’t put a bullet in me where I stand?”

Geto frowns at you, possibly wondering why you’re so difficult. “We wouldn’t do that,” he says, actually sounding offended. “But since you mentioned us takin’ you off guard…” 

His foot only moves an inch across the carpet, but it slides across the hardwood floors anyway and takes you with it. With a shriek, you trip backwards and lose the grip on your gun, causing it to fly out of your hand. You manage to catch yourself with one hand balancing you and turn so your on one knee, staring up at Geto who bends down to pick up your gun. “Hey!” you bark. 

He smirks down at you, his eyes gleaming underneath his cowboy hat. “Now that’s takin’ off guard, little lady,” he chuckles. “Just wanted to get the gun from you. It was startin’ to scare my ‘Tarou.” He looks back at Gojo with a smiling that way too intimate and personal to be platonic. 

Flushing at the realization, you gape at them. “Wait,” you pause. “Are you two–” 

“Together?” Gojo finishes with a smirk. “I’m afraid the rumors are true, doll: the famous gunslingers ride more than just horses. But you won’t tell anyone, will ya?” He gives you a wink.

You stand up with a grunt, angered at the subject being changed and being embarrassed by Geto’s move. “Listen, I don’t care about y’all’s love life,” you scoff. “Just gimme back my gun!” 

Geto twirls your gun around his gloved fingers, his gaze teasing. “And if I do, are you gonna blow our heads off?” he asks. He and Gojo keep their eyes on you, sizing you up the way you do them, watching you to see what your next move will be. You have to be careful, so you shake your head. 

But the long-haired outlaw isn’t buying it. “How can we be so sure?” he retorts. Gritting your teeth, you go to snatch it from him, but he holds it up out of your reach. “Ah-ah…I asked you a question.” 

“I said give me back my goddamn gun!” you snap before kicking Geto straight in the balls. His pretty face screws up in pain and he grunts, dropping your gun as he cups himself and hunches in agony. You race to pick up the pistol, but Gojo’s foot sends it shooting across the floor to the other side of the room. 

You glare at him, seeing red like a bull. “Oooh, she’s feisty,” he cackles, taking off his hat and letting it fall to the floor. “I like that. Just be careful, little miss. I happen to like what ya just kicked.” Geto groans as he rolls onto his side, still cupping his balls. You’d laugh if you weren’t so pissed off. 

You stand before Gojo with your fists tightly palled up and your feet in a fighter’s stance like a boxer. “Goin’ against me?” you bitterly laugh. “I’d like to see you two try.”

You take the first punch at Gojo, but he blocks it with his hand as if he saw it coming a mile away. You take another; he blocks it again. Frustrated, you decide to switch it up and go for a kick at his head, but he ducks. 

His next move is something you count on him doing: he yanks on your ankle, sending you careening backwards onto the floor. This time, you can’t catch yourself and fall onto your ass. You have no time to focus on the sharp pain shooting up into your behind because the outlaw quickly gets on top to straddle you.

“Usually, I don’t do this with girls I just met,” he chuckles, “but I think you’re an exception, little miss.” 

“Bite me,” you growl before wrapping your legs tightly around his neck and squeezing your thighs around it. Using all the strength in your core, you bring yourself up to headbutt him with the top of your skull. You release him and with a gasp, Gojo falls backwards into the couch, clutching his head. 

Quickly, you get up and head to the door to escape, but two strong arms wrapping around your midsection stop you. With a yelp, you’re shoved into the wall by Geto, pinned between him and the wall. “Get offa me!” you cry out, wriggling around to try and break free. But that becomes futile when you suddenly feel Geto begin to pin your arms behind your back, sending sparks of pain shooting into your body.

“No!” you cry out, near tears. “Stop!” 

“Then calm the fuck down,” he demands, his voice firm in your ear. Though you do stop, you turn your head slightly to look back at him, seeing the warning in his eyes. “Or what?” you spit defiantly. 

A terrifying (yet thrilling) fire alights behind Geto’s dark eyes just at the same time as Gojo comes to assess your restricted state. “Oooh, she’s a brat,” he chuckles despite just receving a nasty headbutt. “Now I really wanna keep her, Sugu.” He tugs his pink bottom lip between his white teeth.

“Chill, Satoru,” Geto firmly says, his eyes still trained on you. “We won’t hurt you, but if you’re okay with bein’ pinned against the wall, then by all means, sugar, we’ll get the whip.” 

Gojo gives you a sly grin, his long, thick, black leather whip in his hand now. At the thought of being tied up and completely at their mercy, you let yourself go slack in Geto’s hold.

“Okay, okay, I’m calm! I promise!” You take a deep breath and relax yourself, much to your dismay and irritation. You don’t like listening to anyone, especially grown ass men, when you’re a grown ass woman. 

But in this situation, you’ll have to. Satisfied, Geto releases you and you begin to rub the kinks out of your arms from his iron grip, turning to face them as you do. The duo gives you your space now, stepping to the other side of the room. A sudden knock at the door makes you jump. “Y/N!” Todo yells. “Everythin’ okay in there?” 

“We’ll come in if you aren’t!” Mai calls through the door. “We’ll call the sheriff!” 

“Mai, you idiot, don’t let them know that!” Maki criticizes. You look at the duo standing before, wondering if you should say yes. Finally, you call to the others, “It’s alright, y’all. We just dropped some drinks up here.”

The two still stand there, never getting their guns or taking a step near you. They leave the ball completely in your court. “Explain,” you demand, crossing your arms. 

“We didn’t come to fight you,” Geto explains and the corner of his lips lift slightly, “though that was quite entertainin’. We came to offer you a proposition: you team up with us. Help us take out these other baddies.”

You raise your brows at them, stunned. After putting up that fuss, they still want you on their team? ‘They must want this pussy bad,’ you think.

“Plus, you’ll need us for protection,” Geto adds. “It’s only a matter of time till people find out who you are, especially when Valentine gets arrested. You think he’s gon’ keep quiet about your identity just ‘cause you shot him in the ear?” Your world once again crumbles when you realize that he could be right. 

“Shit!” you hiss, pinching the bridge of your nose as a headache begins to thump-thump-thumb against your head. “Shit, shit, this ruins everything! I had a plan!” 

“Well, whatever that plan is, we can still help you achieve it,” Gojo replies, “but you’d have to come with us. We’re not gonna go into detail now since I’m sure people are listenin’,” ––he nods at the door––”but with our skills and brains combined, we could be unstoppable!” 

You look between the two, assessing their faces for something––a glint in their eye; a twitch of their mouths––to give them away. But you see nothing. “What’s in this for me?” you ask suspiciously. Geto looks like he was waiting for you to ask that question. “We can go into all of that if you agree,” he tells you. 

They actually look like they want you to say yes to this and to your shock, you want to. You’re curious as to why they want you in the first place out of so many other people dying to even get their attention. But you can’t. You have a plan that you’ve been putting together for years now. 

“No,” you laugh. “Sorry, fellas, but I work alone. I always have and always will. Plus, I’ve been runnin’ from the law for years now and they haven’t caught up to me yet.” 

They look like they were expecting that answer. Gojo sulks while Geto gives you an understanding nod. “Can’t bash the confidence,” he says, “but if you ever think differently…”

He takes a moment to take something out of his pocket––a piece of paper––and takes a pen from the nightstand next to the bed. He scribbles something down before passing it to you. “Pay us a visit,” he finishes. “We leave tomorrow.” 

You read the message in your hands, seeing a number and an address to a motel: 1211 at the Corner of Maplewood, Rm 201 - G &G. 

Geto then moves to pick up his weapons, straighten himself up, and walk back over to you. His eyes on you longer than necessary as he watches you read the note, looking gobsmacked. “Think about it,” he whispers. “We hope to see you again, little lady.” He takes your hand and gives it a light kiss before walking off to the door. 

Gojo gives you a wink and a tip of his hat as he follows his partner to the door. “Bye for now, doll,” he says. When Geto opens it, Todo, Shoko, Yuki, and the Zenin sisters stand in the threshold, wide-eyed and definitely eavesdropping. 

“Ladies,” Gojo greets as he follows Geto out the door. “Y’all might wanna dial for y’all’s sheriff. I don’t think this establishment needs a wanted criminal as a boss.” He nods down at Valentine’s unconscious body before heading off, disappearing down the stairs. 

You are immediately bombarded with questions as your coworkers rush you, but you can’t say anything. You’re too busy staring at the note, so much that you begin to memorize the hotel room number. 

*******

That night, the Blackwater saloon closes early and Valentine is arrested. 

As soon as Gojo and Geto leave as quickly and as quietly as they’d come, Choso calls the Blackwater sheriff who riles up his posse and quickly come on their horses, one of them dragging a steel box behind it to transport Valentine to prison.

The entire saloon erupts in whispers and shocked stares as they watch two officers drag Valentine’s body down the steps, his wrists cuffed. 

For the next hour, the entire saloon is questioned––you, the bartenders, the dancers, the guards, and even the customers––about what happened tonight.

You tell the sheriff about Geto and Gojo’s arrival to find Valentine and Valentine forcing you onto the Gunslingers, but you don’t tell them anything about anything other than that. The sheriff doesn’t seem suspicious of you, only thanks you for your time and apologizes for this “huge mess”. 

Later, you retreat to one of the empty bedrooms to watch Valentine be tossed into the back of the steel cart. As you watch from the window, Geto’s warning continues to haunt you. You can’t help but wonder if he’s right.

Will Valentine expose you to the law? Will you be arrested? That makes your want to flee even more tempting. Just leave without telling anyone where you are headed. 

But what about Shoko and the others? What would you tell them? You look down at the note clutched in your palm, reading the hotel number over and over again. Can you really trust these guys? 

The door to the bedroom opens and you quickly hide the note in your bosom just as Shoko comes. “Jeez, what a mess,” she sighs, hands on her hips. “This is gonna be the talk of the town for a week. I just spoke to Maki and she’s gonna be takin’ over the saloon till we get a new manager.” 

“Why doesn’t she just manage it herself?” you ask. Shoko just gives you a look and you laugh, knowing damn well that Maki would cuss so many people out that she’d never be able to handle a managerial job.

“Came up to tell ya that the saloon is closing for tonight,” Shoko says, giving you a tender look. “We can head home.” 

You nod, giving her a smile. “Thanks. I’ll change my clothes and say bye to the others then.”

Silently, you walk past Shoko and she lets you, watching you go. You can tell she is worried about you and wants to ask what happened tonight, but she doesn’t want you to feel attacked or cornered. But you also know that she’ll ask you later when you’re both home. 

After saying goodnight to the saloon employees and pretending to vomit when Yuki giggles about going home with Choso tonight, you change into a simple, pink dress, pack your things, and walk home with Shoko to your shared home only four blocks from work.

When you moved to Blackwater five months ago, you bunked with Shoko in a 500 square foot room that you renovated into an apartment with a kitchen, a small lounging area, a bathroom, and two twin beds. 

You couldn’t be happier to have such a great roomie and friend, but you know it can’t last forever. This is the thought you’ve had in your head for months now any time you acted as if you were “normal”, going with your coworkers to happy hour at another bar or gossiping with Shoko by the candlelight at home. And you can sense that Shoko feels the same way as you take the short route home together. 

The dirt roads are quiet, the many stores, boutiques, and establishments closed for the night, and the street lamps surrounded with buzzing insects attracted to the brightness and alight with flames that light your way as you walk side by side. The night is warm, but not sticky and you can tell that rain is in the forecast judging by the smell. You’re originally from the South, so you know these things. 

Shoko is concerningly quiet, something that is unlike her. You wait for her to ask the golden question, but she instead stays silent, looking ahead. “Alright,” you sigh. “Go on and ask.” she looks at you questionably. “Hm?” she asks. 

You give her a long look, raising an eyebrow. “You wanna ask me about the Gunslingers, so go ahead! Ask me!”

But she doesn’t, probably because she figures that you need your privacy and that you have your reasons for keeping things from her…which you do. “We didn’t have sex,” you say. “And they didn’t force themselves on me if that’s what you’re worried about. They didn’t even really want Valentine.” 

Shoko finally looks at you as she takes out a cigarette and lights it with a match stick. The end of the cigarette butt glows bright red, reminding you of a firefly in the darkness. “So what did they want?” she asks, confused. 

You bite your lip, battling internally with yourself. You know that Shoko wouldn’t go running to the law if you tell her who you really are, but the life you live has taught you to never trust ANYONE. But even so, you can tell her some of the truth.

“Me,” you softly whisper. 

Shoko stops walking and stares at you in awe, the cigarette dangling from her lips. “They asked me to come with them, Shoko,” you explain. “To join them and help them catch other wanted outlaws.”

She continues to stare at you as if trying to pull back the layers of your skin and bones and peer inside of you. You away to a nearby street lamp, watching the flame flicker in the gaslamp. 

“Well, why don’t you?” she asks. You look back to her, shocked. She shrugs, puffing on her cigarette. “They may be able to help you get to Willow Springs like you always wanted.” She gives you a reassuring smile, probably to make you feel better about not telling her the entire truth. 

At the mention of your dream, you feel an overwhelming sense of need come over you. You want that so badly: a life in Willow Springs, known for its quietness, away from the wild West and danger. Just a quiet life with a cabin by a waterfall and your own farm, ditching the Fatale Femme identity for good.

“I don’t know,” you sigh. “I don’t even know if I can trust ‘em.” 

Shoko once again shrugs and takes a final puff on her cigarette before tossing it down and crushing it under her heel. “Well, you’ve got plenty of time to think about it, but I personally think you should do it. Throw caution to the wind and let ‘em take you away from here.” 

She stares you down with her eyes, intense yet caring. “There ain’t nothin’ here for you, honey, and that’s the truth.” Then she walks off towards your apartment, leaving you standing there stunned but knowing that you’ll eventually catch up. 

Something in you tells you that her words mean more than she lets on and they follow you all the way home and into your dreams that night.

[captainwans]

AM ERA PT. II (smau)

— ALEX TURNER

arabella series!

pairing: alex turner x fem! actress! reader

summary: the fans can’t get enough of their relationship and share their thoughts and feelings on the arabella mv, including a “new” discovery on y/n’s side from the comments.

timeline: 2014

note: layout / format by the beautiful @ithinkimokeei <3

masterlist!

Liked by zendaya, yourbestfriend and others

yourinstagram 🤍🖤

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username babe yourinstagram just posted

username SHES A GODESS

username live love laugh y/n

breanahelders the woman you are 😩😍

yourinstagram you’re my woman 😙

matthelders didn’t know we shared her

breanahelders matthelders babe not now

username matt is so funny i love him

username oh no 🧎🏾‍♀️ what’s happening to me

mileskane looking beautiful love ❤️

yourinstagram ❤️😙

username i was waiting for miles to roast her

username no bc me too 😭😭

yourbestfriend holy mama i’m so gay 😳

officialelizabetholsen so real 😩

username the women in the comments ✨😌💅🏼

username alex doesn’t even have ig and if he had i know he be barking at how hot his gf is 😫

matthelders trust me he is barking

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Liked by imsebastianstan, elsapataky and others

yourinstagram a little bts ✨ (📷: wife breana)

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username my parents looks so hot

username i’m loving this new theme of hers!

username same!! i love how it matches the am

username the mv was so sexy idk if i wanted to look at alex or y/n

yourbestfriend nah i was looking at y/n the whole time who tf is alex?!! 🤨

username and you’re so iconic for that sis

username the content we’re getting lately is just immaculate keep going queen

username literally two of my worlds colliding

username y/n & arctic monkeys fans 🤝

username oh to be arabella

username *oh to be y/n

username what i also loved about the mv was that they put some clips from the arabella movie

username y/n am era > alex am era

matthelders who said she was YOUR wife?

yourinstagram me, myself & i 😌

breanahelders what she said 🤩 matthelders go get the divorce papers

username LMAO

username IM CACKLING THIS IS SO FUNNY

username this is so gold i love this trio

matthelders i’m telling alex 😡

username um hello is no one gonna talk about them KISSING in the mv??!

username i was literally waiting for that comment!!!

username their kiss is living in my head rent free ✨✨✨🤩🤩🤩🤩

username i still haven’t recovered from that

username forever jealous

username he was kissing me y’all

username sorry boo but that was me

username if alex had ig i would’ve asked him if her lips tasted like the galaxy’s edge

username and if he kissed the color of a constellation falling into place

username and asking him if his days end best when this sunset gets itself

mileskane username he’s sitting beside me and he confirmed that her lips did taste like the galaxy’s edge 😳 🌌

username gripping my hair, sliding against the wall, sobbing, crying, throwing fits—ALEX

username IM SCREAMING MY HEART CANNOT TAKE THIS 😭😭😭

username i love this comment section sm

Liked by officialelizabetholsen, madisonbeer and others

yourinstagram vogue ✨🤍

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vogue always a pleasure to have you 💋

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username y/n y/l/n is such an icon.

username new era new y/n

breanahelders those LEGS 😫

yourinstagram open for you ;)

matthelders can you two take this somewhere else pls 😒

mileskane dang matthelders you just lost your girl

yourbestfriend don’t blame him

matthelders 💀💀 yourbestfriend

matthelders just signed the divorce papers 😞 i can never win

breanahelders matthelders babe don’t take this personally it’s not you

yourbestfriend matthelders it is actually you

matthelders yourbestfriend you can eat my foot

username lmao y/bsf/n

username i can’t with them

username poor matt 😭😭

username y/n’s comment section is a comedy show 😭😂

username i love how breana and y/n are so gay for each other

username i mean look at them i want them both

username literally need her so bad 😫

username HOW MANY LETTERS IN Y/N

username ugh she’s everything

rosiehw remind me why you’re not a model? 🤤

yourinstagram i could never 😫

yourbestfriend *you could i mean vs 👀

username lmao yourbestfriend

username no but seriously

username idk if i wanna be her or be with her

username ok alex i get it now 😫

username since no one has mentioned it is anyone else forgetting that i bet you look good on the dance floor was also about y/n

username context pls

username wait REALLY? EXPLAIN

username that’s not true—is it??

username he confirmed it during an interview years ago why are y’all so clueless

username but he didn’t mention her name tho?? only that it was a “popular actress”

yourbestfriend username put two and two together sis 😭

username yourbestfriend lmao do you think y/n knows

yourbestfriend username knowing her dumb ass i don’t think so

username did y’all forget that y/n filmed a movie back in 2005 in sheffield 👀 yeah

username there you have it

username it all makes sense

username i thought we all knew that 😭

username in conclusion they were meant to be sorry i don’t make the rules

pinned comment 📌 yourinstagram how come when i look for any information my only source is you guys (not that i’m complaining tho)

yourbestfriend bc you’re so so fucking clueless that’s why babe

yourfriend 😭😭😭

mileskane how did we go from y/n’s legs to i bet you look good on the dance floor?

username wtf is going on???

katiee_cook_ i’ve given up at this point

[sillygoblinantics]

This is something that’s been running rampant on my mind for a couple years now so ima share it with yall here since it’s about one of my favorite hyperfixations. So let’s talk about

Pokémon Legends Arceus — misinterpreting art direction

By Bri/gobbo

Pokémon legends arceus or PLA for short, came out two years ago (almost now) of January 2022 to much anticipation of long time fans. Many of which being artists (like me) with a compelling premise and enticing story and worldbuilding the game was a hit if you ignore complaints of non fans and snobs.

So… what’s the deal?

Unfortunately as demand and quota rises the need to produce and release content gets worse and worse for the industry as with harsh deadlines, the long time need for quality is cut off by the need for deadlines. Which is why I am at ease to know that we were given the announcement from gamefreak and the Pokémon company that the next game would take two years instead of the short one year delay for the next installment to the main game or side game lines. But I’m not just saying this to fill this with words, my point is to stress the toxic work environment that many people in the industry go through but given this news is an opportunity to look forward to the wellbeing of both the people behind this franchise and game as well as the attention to detail that goes into each release.

Pt II — graphics

My second and main gripe I’ve held is to the complaints of how the game looks. Which I don’t get, it might be because I had only recently taken art history while in college (which I would highly recommend taking because it will change the way you see the world!) or could be wearing “toxic nostalgic lenses” that cloud judgement. This won’t change the fact that I don’t see any story or visual issues with the *look* of the game.

Backgrounds:

From close observation into the textures of the plants and trees in PLA I could tell off the bat that it was meant to resemble or what I theorize to be based on traditional ink painting or Sumi-e. The distinct weight of the leaves and bark may just be standard textures but through a stringent lense you can see the dilution and bleed of line. A lot of landscapes are often a meditation through each stroke of the brush the piece reveals a serene whimsy view.

The Pokémon

“Oh the pokedex should’ve had more style and traditional pieces!” —a exaggeration and summary of what I’ve heard on YouTube who’ve discussed the visuals of PLA

I think in terms of one of the main missions and plot line of PLA is to create the first pokedex! and for something so important to the safety of humans who are coming to settle in Hisui/Sinnoh they need to have access to a book with images as soon as possible with enough for everyone. It makes sense for the Pokémon to look “flat” as there’s one traditional art form that has made the spread of Japanese art possible; woodblock prints or as it’s called:

“Ukiyo-e”

But outside of the pokedex the models of the pokemon are just as good with the same inky look that the backgrounds and game has already!

Also shiny hunting… but I’m getting ahead of myself!

My point for this is simply to not judge and criticize a work without getting a proper understanding of the culture and art history that might’ve gone into the piece!

And it’s also why I’ve been going absolutely feral for PLZA because WERE GETTING KALOS DURING MY FAVORITE PERIOD OF ART AND WRITING HISTORY!!!!

Romantic period and realism!

Which means…

THE OUTFITS ARE GONNA BE GOOOOOD!!!!!

Also hisuian lilligant is based on a figure skater…

[alltheyoungmoons]

The Gift - pt. II

G - WIP - Part I/? - 1k words - ATYD timeline compliant.

“You’re going to help me?” Lily’s pink lips stretched into a wide smile, her hopes restored.

“Of course, anything to make our Moony happy”, Sirius nodded, chivalrously. “So, let’s start with the things you want to avoid? Easier if they’re out of the way.”

“Alright, so: definitely no sweets, chocolate or cigarettes,” she eyed him severely at the latter, but with a smirk “…he’ll get enough of those as is. No more hand-knitted items either, I just don’t have the time, even if I enchanted my needles to do it on their own - and I’ve been gifting him those since second year anyway…” she kept reasoning out loud, keeping track on her fingers. Sirius was nodding along, realising at that moment how long and how well she knew Remus. She probably was the only other person in the world who knew him as well as Sirius did…almost. Sirius relished in the thought that he would always be number one in that regard “…and no more studying supplies! I’m looking for something that will last far beyond school.”

“Ok, that’s a great starting point” Sirius agreed. “So - books are always a safe choice with Moony, but let’s just keep them as a last resort for now, if you really want to impress him. If we don’t figure out anything better.”

“I agree… he really doesn’t need to do any more reading until the end of school!” she chuckled, “I don’t know how he manages, it’s a miracle he’s still got perfect eyesight!” She shook her head fondly. 

Sirius chuckled at that, too, thinking of all the times he caught Remus with his face so buried in a book you’d think he was snogging it. 

“Right? You’d think he’d be half as blind as James at least, by now” he shrugged, smiling, lowering his voice considerably “I guess being a dark creature has his perks after all…did you know he can see in the dark?”

“He cannot!” Her surprise poking through her whisper.

“Oh yes” Sirius nodded. He was now swinging back and forth on the back legs of his chair. “Caught him strolling in the dark many times - the maniac. First time he gave me a right fright, too."

Lily shook her head disbelievingly - for all she knew about Remus, she must’ve never inquired on the extent of his lycanthropy. 

“Speaking of James,“ Lily grinned “have you ever tried his glasses on? He took them off the other day while we-“ her whole face changed to red “Anyway I put them on, and..” She blinked slowly, leaving her facial expression to convey the sheer shock of this discovery. 

“Of course I’ve tried them on!” Honestly, who did the woman think he was. “Once, in first year, we bet who could last longer, me with his glasses or him without. They made me so sick I took them off after a few minutes, but of course he couldn't see I had, so I just waited until he admitted he couldn’t find our dorm room door to go down to breakfast.” 

Lily rolled her apple green eyes, but she was smiling. 

“It’s incredible how thin the lenses are, too,” she mused, “Muggle glasses for such a prescription would be as thick as butterbeer glass bottoms! A kid in my primary school class had them - they made his eyes so small!”

He tried to imagine James with such a contraption on his nose, struggling to hold in his barking laughter - he was terrified of Pince. He was also quite uneasy in libraries still, but Lily’s presence made it much more bearable. 

“So, books aside then…” Lily went back to wondering what to get their friend. “Isn’t there maybe another magical contraption that could work? Like that compass?”

Sirius knew she was asking him because, being the heir to one of the oldest and most traditionalist “Pureblood” clans in the country, he was basically the resident expert in magical paraphernalia. He felt his thoughts starting to race, raking through the images of the countless useless knick-knacks sitting in display cases in Grimmauld Place, Kreacher polishing them with the care reserved for an infant... Though now, being surrounded by books, it was hard to concentrate on any other object - the more he tried to avoid thinking of them, the more it felt they were the key to solving their problem. Surely the library stored some sort of catalogue…? 

“And to think that when I met you, at any mention of reading you’d have squirmed away as if you’d been chased by a Boggart” Sirius had teased the taller boy as they made their way into Flourish & Blotts, that past December, just before- “Yeah” Remus gave him a sly smile “You’ve created a monster.”

Sirius felt as if he was struck by lightning and slammed the front legs of his chair on the floor. He was grinning madly, and Lily was staring at him. Everything had fallen into place.

“Oh spill it, you peeve me so when you act like this!”

Sirius didn’t have time to argue back - not only was this a great idea, better-than-perfect even, but he was sitting across the only other person who could truly understand the impact of it. 

“So you know how dear ol’ Remus is always reading…”

“Yes, we’ve established that, but we said-“

“But when we first met him,” he interrupted “he didn’t. He couldn’t. I know you know about it, you made him that invisible thing in second year.”

“It’s not invisible, it’s transparent.” She corrected. A note of embarrassment then started in her voice “But yeah… I knew about your spell, too. It was dead impressive, still is, to be honest, but he couldn’t use it during the summer, you know.”

He didn’t know, though, he hadn’t thought about that, and of course Remus had never brought it up. Sirius silently cursed his purebloodness. 

“Right, so, if you were able to turn that plastic sheet into a reading aid…”

(He hoped he pronounced “plastic” correctly. He had mispronounced it once and Mary didn’t let him live it down for weeks.)

“…then you could do the same with glass! Glasses!” Lily was beaming, getting the suggestion right away. The girl was truly smart as a whip.

“Reading glasses” Sirius nodded, grinning wildly. He knew, this was going to work. 

[tkl-lee-blog]

BG3 TK HEADCANONS!! (Pt.1)

I haven’t even gotten halfway through Act II yet BUT THE URGES TO MAKE THIS POST WERE TOO STRONG!! Going in order of meeting them in-game. Starting with Lae’zel, Shart and Astarion! The others are soon to come :D

Lae’zel •

-Without a doubt the most likely to straight up not involve oneself in tickling. She finds it ridiculous that one would so easily surrender to such weak ‘attacks’.

-If one was daring enough to try and tickle her, you’d be met with a weapon to your throat, even those she tolerates.

-On the hypothetical that she’s ended up into a tickle fight, she is RUTHLESS. Does she find it silly that something as weak as tickling works so well? Yes. Does that mean she doesn’t take a tickle fight seriously? NO. It’s Lae’zel- of course she takes any battle she’s proposed to seriously. By far the scariest ler of the group by a landslide, she’d leave people close to straight up having to be revived by Withers.

-She’s moderately ticklish! Her ears are a particularly sensitive spot for her, they even flick when touched, how cute!

-If you get on her better side, she’ll at least tolerate it a tiny bit, and might even jab at whoever is tickling her in retaliation.

-Is not used to laughing at all, so any laughter you get out of her makes her surprisingly weakened as her body is not used to the feelings of both tickling and laughter.

Shadowheart •

- Similar to Lae’zel (begrudgingly) in that she’s not used to tickling and likely to threaten anyone who tries to do it to her with a weapon pointed at them, although most of the time she only verbally threatens to do so rather than actually point said weapon.

- Unlike Lae’zel however, she obviously knows what tickling is like despite it only a handful of times to her in her life. She’s indifferent to it in general, but obviously only lets those she’s close to actually get away with it…somewhat.

-HATES being loud when it comes to laughing, she doesn’t like all the sudden attention she’d get from making said noise.

-Her worst spot is probably along her back, her lower back likely being the most sensitive, she’d be a writhing mess of muffled cackles under her ler. To be extra mean you could use her the tip of her braid as a tickle tool along her spine and she’d squeal.

-Will likely get revenge, whether it be instantly after getting tickled or at an unexpected time after. Her nails are deadly tickle tools.

-Has probably had to gently shove Scratch off of her because he was tickling her accidentally and making her giggle quietly.

Astarion •

-The third member of the “tickle me and I’ll threaten you” trifecta. He’s as mouthy as Shadowheart and as quick to draw a weapon as Lae’zel, so be weary.

-Let’s just get this out of the way though- he’s all bark and, more often than not, little to no bite (ironically). He’s not even sure if he’s ever been tickled before, so it’s all new to him, and he’s understandably hesitant about sudden physical touch.

-He’s probably the only one of the group to deny he’s ticklish. Lae’zel would be indirect and say something like “Chk, needing to know useless information over such a childish weakness is unnecessary.” - While Astarion would say something along the lines of “What? Don’t be stupid, of course I’m not.” Meanwhile he himself has no clue and frankly can’t be bothered to deal with finding out.

-Spoiler alert; he is. He REALLY is. He’s a mess of cackles and squirming frantically less than 30 seconds in. That one time he remarked about Karlach’s “hyena call” was immediately made ironic when he was tickled for real for the first time.

-His worst spot is his ribs, if the man had the ability to blush/get a flushed face he’d go scarlet if he’s tickled there. He weakly slaps and kicks his ler out of embarrassment for making him laugh so loudly, he finds his laugh obnoxious.

-WILL GET YOU BACK FOR TICKLING HIM. Just because he’s not one to start the tickle fight, doesn’t mean he’s not going to go all out on revenge. He’s a mean ler, quick and nimble fingers and terrifyingly precise.

[uncreative-cryptid]

"Valerian" pt. II

❝ There's really just one thing that we have in common : Neither of us will be missed . Saint Bernard sits at the top of the driveway You always said how you loved dogs I don't know if I count , but I'm trying my best , When I'm howling and barking these songs . ❞

— Saint Bernard by Lincoln

Overclocking has a massive affect on a resonator's mind and body; this is widely known among most resonators who have overclocked or have witnessed a resonator overclocking.

What many do not personally understand is the strain the mind and body go under.

Chaotic frequencies and harmonics, piercing screams, a cacophony beneath the skin that threatens to rip the flesh like fabric.

It hurt. It still hurts.

Valerian couldn't clearly recall what happened during his first overclocking instance. During this time, there was not many people, as the Retroactive Rain had taken place near the mines, causing a lot of problems with everyone unfortunate enough to be caught in it.

Resonator Valerian does not seem to recall how it happened, but his body definitely remembered the aftermath.

Laying on a cot in a pitched tent, the sound of rain slamming down upon the tarp, the sound of voices calling around nearby. The ache in his muscles so intense he could barely move. Breathing was painful. It hurts.

A breath rattled through frigid lungs, forcing to move limbs that seemed stuck in their curled in shape, loosely holding his own body it seemed. Forcibly, a hand lifted, and through blurred vision, he saw the deep and dulled gray vein that seemed to have ripped through the skin, hardened and cold compared to the fragile flesh around it.

A copper taste remained in his mouth, as he groaned and let his arm drop, the extension of the limb being far too much for him to truly support it. His muscles ached, it hurt to move, his fingers tensed and gripped the fabric of the light blanket.

Visions flashed through his mind, a soft magenta haze surrounded the edges of his vision.

There was just so much blood.

Too many Tacet Discords.

Bloodied bows, a house partially aflame, a shattered piano, wet paper and running ink, a violent musical composition distorted through the haze of floating rain.

Valerian cannot remember her face. The dark hair pooled in blood, the brightly colored dress dusted in ash and blood and glittering shards. A golden glimmer, a vibrant haze of magenta.

A guttural scream left him, the haze encompassing his own mind.

The second instant was far more clear.

"Va - ... Val! Hey!"

The voice was jarring for a brief moment, despite the familiar voice belonging to a longtime friend. Valerian cautiously looked to the man.

He was sitting a slight ways from the camp, having absently taken to staring out into the dark pit of the Tiger's Maw. It's been a few days, the Refinery Tower is usually back online by now. He can still see the lights occasionally down at the nearest level ..

"Hey, hey, you're trailing off again."

That voice. It was warm, once, Valerian recalled. Looking to the other resonator, Valerian glanced the man he called his friend, catching the faint glint of the golden pin under the sash that crossed over his shoulder and chest, tied at the hip.

His head began to hurt,

"Hey, you're not looking too good .. here, let me help."

A dreadful feeling began to sink into his skin, eyes looking down to the ground as the havoc energy around them began to accumulate. Valerian flinched, standing abruptly and stepping away, "Don't- don't touch me." The words came out in a sort of hiss, angrier than he expected. Something wasn't right. His heart was pounding, but this wasn't from the usual affection he normally held for the other resonator.

His gaze met the form of the other resonator, but through the havoc haze, he couldn't fully comprehend their face. Their eyes, though .. they felt piercing.

"You .. were there .."

The words fell from his lips, dripping from his tongue like molten metal.

-

It is one thing for a resonator to overclock, especially during down time, but it is another for two to overclock at the same time.

Eyewitness reports recall hearing loud shouting from the two before a fight had broken out, but the impact the spectro and havoc attributes had when clashing so forcefully at such a short distance caused many to be unable to recall what the fight was about.

Eyewitnesses were afflicted with nasty mental afflictions after the explosion from the havoc, and many more held several thin cuts and wounds from the spectro, partially blinded as a result.

-

Havoc energy violently swirled around them, Valerian's eyes glowing with the attribute as his arms burned and crystalized, shattering as the havoc resonator swiped against him.

Another explosion, throwing him backwards, crystalline claws digging stubbornly into the dirt to keep him from flying off the ledge. He coughed out, gasping for breath amongst the thickened air of dust and havoc.

The resonator lunged at Valerian, the two once more colliding, havoc and spectro exploding once more. Then again, and again, clashing repeatedly as the two fought with nothing more than their attributes armed. One particularly nasty explosion caused the two to split, pushing Valerian to the edge, hands desperately grabbing at the ground to steady himself, before the weight of the other resonator hit him with full force.

Havoc and Spectro, falling from the ledge in the dead of the night. Crystallized hand and arm gripped the sash and shirt, tearing through the fabric as the air suddenly felt still. Valerian looked into the lost eyes, seeing nothing more than the sickening red-violet hue of havoc, before he gripped tighter to the other resonator.

An eruption of Spectro, clear as a lighthouse on a cooled night, shook the sides of the Tiger's Maw.

When Midnight Rangers and patrollers were able to reach the location, both identified resonators were found several kilometers down into the mines, both sustaining several injuries, only one surviving, with clear signs of overclocking have taken place between them both.

[nonbinaryeggrolls]

Battle of the Larynx II

Miguel O’Hara x afab!reader

Pt. 1, Pt. 2. Pt. 3, Pt. 4

Synopsis: Having Spider-Man as a boyfriend was becoming increasingly more difficult, and his reoccurring absence is tearing you apart

Warning: ANGST, mentions of breakups, self harm (not eating caused by depression)

MINORS DNI. AGELESS AND MINOR BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED

And they talk without thinking

They bark while they're shaking

With teeth that are round and dull

And they yell while they're chasing

While I'm steady pacing

My syllables hit the floor

How stupid, selfish baby

Don't you battle with my larynx toni—

Macie: “Melanie Martinez? Weird choice for a heartbreak song.” Your coworker and close friend critiqued while snatching the earbuds out of your ears

Y/N: “I like it, and it’s helping so leave me alone.”

Alchemex was quiet and slow at 8 AM, the only tasks you had assigned were to organize itineraries and pick up lunch for your employers. Once that was done you used the time you had to yourself to sit at your reception desk and wallow.

Macie: “Here, eat this.” she said handing you a container of vietnamese spring rolls and mango slices she brought from home

Y/N: “I’m not hungry Mac”

Macie: “Yes you are, you’re just saying that so you don’t have to feel anything other than sadness, but I’m not gonna let you sit at your desk all day and sulk. So eat something, please.” You took the food and ate it while she watched you like a hawk to make sure you got every last bite. She was right, making yourself miserable wasnt helping you but it was the only thing you knew how to do right now.

It’d been 3 weeks since you pushed Miguel O’Hara out of your life, and for those past 3 weeks you have been an absolute mess. You could barely get 2 meals down, your sleep schedule was ruined, you had no motivation to complete any tasks, and you avoided your friends and work almost entirely. It probably wasn’t a good idea to use nearly all of your sick days just so you can cry and mope about a guy but it is what it is at this point. You were fortunate enough though to have friends that wouldn’t stand for you ruining yourself while you recovered from heart break. Today your coworkers unanimously decided they needed to save you from depleting all your sick time and practically dragged you into work today.

Macie: “C’mon, tell me what’s on your mind babe.” She took a seat in her chair next to you

Y/N: “It’s just…why hasn’t he called me? Why hasn’t he tried to come back to our apartment? I just fuck I feel stupid but I wanted him to fight for us and he hasn’t at all.” Tears pricked from your eyes and you let your head fall onto your hands

Macie: “Well, why do you think he hasn’t reached out?”

Y/N: “Because he’s a little bitch that doesn’t care about me.” You cross your arms like a stubborn child

Macie: “That’s possible, but what is your heart telling you?” She asks

Y/N: “…He’s doesn’t know how to apologize for everything, or if I’ll accept it.” Macie nods in agreement

Macie: “I’ve never met Miguel other than passing him to get to the vending machine, but I’ve listened to you cry on my couch about him on multiple occasions. It sounds like this isn’t his first screw up, but it is the worst and I’m sure he knows that. It’s very possible that you two are done for good and I think he’s scared to face that…or make things worse.” You shrug in reply, “Be honest with yourself, would you have even listened if he came back immediately?”

Y/N: “No…I probably would’ve told him to fuck off.” You chuckled

Macie: “See. Maybe this time your taking from him is a good opportunity for the fog to clear, you can figure out if it was just your anger that pushed him away or if you actually want to break up with him. No one’s saying you have to forgive him but don’t write his hesitance off as not caring just yet, I have a gut feeling that he’s just afraid right now.” She pulled you into a much needed hug and ran her fingers up and down your back

Y/N: “…It hurts so bad Mace…I miss him so much and I don’t want to”. You sniffled

Macie: “I know babe I know, if it makes you feel any better you look really hot today even with runny mascara. He’s an idiot for fucking up with you so badly.” She said while planting a sticky lip gloss kiss on your forehead.

Macie helped you fix up your makeup in the bathroom and you both returned to work, luckily the front desk foot traffic is always slow with only phone calls and e-mails to keep you busy. It wasn’t a lot but it was enough to keep your mind off of everything.

Miguel wasn’t doing any better than you were. It wasn’t like him to talk without thinking, he was always so stern and calculated with everything he did in life, it was what he was known for but that night it was as if he lost all control. He felt horrible about everything, everything he said to you he wishes he could apologize for but he was terrified that it wouldn’t change anything…or that he might make things even worse.

Miguel’s world came to an abrupt halt since you shut him out. He was bitter and angry and lashed out on his fellow colleagues far more than he usually did. Even his favorite variants couldn’t shield themselves from Miguels wrath. Yelling at Miles or Gwen was routine, but yelling at Peter Parker (Earth-13122) was unheard of and it showed just how badly your absence was effecting him.

Nowadays if it wasn’t for missions or to go into headquarters it was rare for him to ever leave his room— well what was supposed to be a room. All of his belongings were still permanently relocated at the apartment that you both used to share, meaning his old apartment was long gone. There was no place for him to go back to when you kicked him out, so that meant the twin size mattress in Peters guest room that was far too small for his tall figure was what Miguel had called home for the past month.

The clock read 10:34 AM when Peter went downstairs to Miguel’s living space, Peter knocked and poked his head into the guest room

Peter: “Miguel?”, Peter looked in to see a semi asleep Miguel. “Cmon man get up you need to eat something. MJ made French toast, you need food with your depression.”

Miguel: “I’m not hungry.” He sighed and rolled over to face the wall. His appetite wasn’t important to him especially if it meant watching Peter and MJ canoodle at the kitchen counter the way you and him used to. Peter stepped back into the hallway, a worried MJ was motioning him to go back and talk to Miguel.

“Go talk to him!”

“I don’t want, to he’s gonna yell at me!” They both whispered, low enough for a regular person not to hear but it was enough for Miguel’s heightened sense to pick up. Choosing to ignore them, Miguel covered his face with the pillow trying to drift back to sleep until he felt a small weight crawl on him and start tugging in his hair

Mayday: “Uncle Mickey! Wake up Mickey! Come eat breakfast with me!”

Needless to say Maydays cuteness was enough to get Miguel out of his cave. He ate breakfast in silence and by the end Peter had convince Miguel to return back to work, saying it would help him take his mind off things. Mj lent Miguel some of peters old dress clothes from when he was 4 sizes larger, the pants flooded of course but that’s what happens when you’re a foot taller than most people.

It was raining in Miguel’s dimension when he returned, making the drive to Alchemex that much more depressing. It didn’t even register to him that you would be working, he panicked about what he would do or say when he sees you.

Miguel: “Lyla are you there?…” No answer, “Lyla?…Okay I’m sorry.”

Lyla appeared on an illuminated orange screen

Lyla: “Sorry for what? Use those big boy words.” She mocked, arms crossed and turned away from him, refusing to look at him until he gave a proper apology

Miguel: “I’m sorry for yelling and for being a dick for the last few weeks. Okay?” He sighed

Lyla: “See. Was that so hard?” He growled in annoyance but was honestly glad to have her talking to him again, even if she was just a combination of zeroes and one’s she was helpful, “Still having lady troubles I see?” She teased

Miguel: “God, shut up.” He grumbled

Lyla: “That’s it goodbye—

Miguel: “No! No I’m sorry.” He groaned and sank in his seat at the red light rubbing circles on his temples, “What the fuck am I gonna do Lyla? She probably hates me.”

Lyla: “After everything you said I wouldn’t be surprised if she did, but Peters right Miguel you need to just apologize and actually EXPLAIN yourself. Stop acting like such a tough guy and open up to her already. You keep her in the dark all the time and let her wonder if she did something wrong or if you even like her, maybe if you were actually honest with her she’ll understand. And even if she doesn’t understand you STILL owe her an apology. That part’s non negotiable.” Lyla criticized with no intent of being gentle. For an AI she actually gave genuinely good advice.

But he wasn’t ready to see you yet, he wasn’t ready to say what he needed to say, had no idea what he was going to say. So when he made it to Alchemex instead of going through the front entrance like he usually did he opted for the back entrance where the delivery trucks usually are. Stunned faces met his along with whispers and other greetings. A few, “Welcome backs” and handshakes from his fellow geneticists, too many faces and none of them was the one he wanted to see…

Miguel barely got any work done that day, instead he chose to spend all his time pacing back in forth near the second floor ledge. Though his office was on the top floor, the second floor had a view that peered past the large glass staircase and directly over the receptionist desk. So throughout the day he made a routine of getting up every 30-40 minutes to go to the second floor bathroom so he can look over at you on the way back to his office. He couldn’t stop himself from trying to catch a glimpse of you, he got warm each time you smiled at a new person entering the building. It was fake of course, he’d seen your real smile and it was breathtaking. This on the other hand was a plastered in customer service smile accompanied by forced laughs.

Around the the 12th time he went to go check on you he froze when he saw you weren’t at your desk anymore, but it was around the time of your lunch break so he suspected you were in the cafeteria. It was kind of pathetic the way he felt himself rush to the elevator with urgency to get to the food court but it was what he was doing.

The area was busy, filled with lab coats and other Alchemex staff. When he finally located you he stopped in place. You were smiling, genuinely smiling, with some idiot employee he had never seen before. He was leaning against the wall talking your ear off as you bought a soda from the vending machine, and he was far too close. Miguel’s eyes darkened when he hugged you goodbye, holding you a few seconds to long.

“Do you know that guy over there? He’s been staring for a while” Your coworker asked, nodding over to Miguel who stood by the elevator door glaring through angry brooded eyes. You stilled as you met his gaze that softened the longer you looked at him

Y/N: “No…No I don’t.”

Macie: “He just stared? Ew that’s creepy.” She giggled, “Whatever just ignore it, he hasn’t made an attempt to talk to you so don’t even entertain schoolboy behavior like that.”

Y/N: “Yeah, but you should’ve seen him he looked like he wanted to murder somebody...I hate that I thought it was kinda hot.”

She slapped you on the back of the head bringing out a string of giggles amongst the both of you. You took her advice and decided to just forget about the interaction and try and get through the rest of today. You sifted through emails and answered phone calls for the next few hours until a younger boy, no more than 19 years old, walked up to the front desk.

Y/N: “Hi there! can I help you?” You questioned

“Got a Grubhub delivery for Miguel O’Hara.” He held up a closed Thai food bag

Y/N: “Oh okay you can go up that elevator on the left, it’s the sixth fl—

“Customer requested no contact delivery so I guess this is on you guys. Okay bye I’m gonna leave now, remember to tip, thanks!” the rude little bastard plopped the take out bag on the counter in front of you. You’re heart practically plummeted to your stomach at the realization. Miguel knew what he was doing, he knew that if he requested no contact that meant the assigned assistant for genetics department had to deliver it. These snooty scientists didn’t want a random person walking through their building, it happened all the time just never with Miguel. Fuck

Macie looked over at the bag then back at you, just as flabbergasted as you were. Begging her to deliver it for you was no use, she was the assistant for the botany department and could get in huge trouble if she did. Reluctantly you made your way up to the floor his office was located on, the walk from the elevator to his office door felt like an eternity but you swallowed your fear and knocked.

Miguel: “Come in!” He sounded nervous, he looked like it too when you opened his door to see him already standing in front of his desk. Miguel looked disheveled and tired

Y/N: “Here, is there anything else you need Mr. O’Hara?” You deadpanned and handed him the bag. You weren’t surprised to see that he threw the bag away immediately, it’s not like his intention was to eat anyways.

Miguel: “Can I talk to you? Please?” He asked, you sighed and nodded in agreement closing the door behind you to give you both some privacy

Y/N: “Okay go ahead. Talk.”

Miguel: “…Who was that you were talking to?” he asked in a slightly desperate tone

Y/N: “That’s the first thing you have to say to me?” You scoffed

Miguel: “Please just tell me who he is…”

Y/N: “Who? I’m a receptionist I talk to a lot of people.” you lied knowing exactly who he was referring to.

Miguel: “The guy in the cafeteria, with the black hat. Who was he?”

Y/N: “That’s Anthony. He works in security for your department. But I guess you wouldn’t have known that, it’s not really a job that contributes anything to this world, is it?” Miguel winced at the sting of his own words being thrown back at him

Miguel: “…I’m sorry…I shouldn’t have said that.” he said in a tone barely above a whisper

Y/N: “Great, thanks I’m gonna go back to work now.” You dismissed his shitty excuse for an apology and turned to leave

Miguel: “Y/N I’m trying to say sorry to you!” he said almost begging. He was willing to beg if that’s what it took to make you listen

Y/N: “You’re always sorry! Every week it’s a new apology and honestly they’re all starting to sound the same and Im so tired of it!” you shouted

Miguel: “But I—

Y/N: “No I am talking, you are listening!” you silenced him, “You made it clear how you felt about me and I’m not going to keep myself in a situation where I’m just a fill in for someone else.”

Miguel: “…What are you saying?”

Y/N: “I don’t want to be with you any—

Miguel: “Please, please don’t say that N/N.” He practically leapt from his desk when you turned to leave without saying anything. It didn’t matter how many times he said your name it didn’t stop you, not until he physically blocked the door with his own body

Y/N: “O’Hara MOVE!” you demanded. The sound of his last name being said again signifying just how detached you we’re becoming

Miguel: “No. I want to fix this please!”

Y/N: “Find a new replacement then!”

The two of you went back and forth for what seemed like hours, his pleading was relentless. You’d never seen this side of Miguel before, he was unhinged and desperate it was like watching a child have a breakdown. But it wasn’t changing your mind, you deserved better.

When you reached for the door handle once again that’s when all of his words came spilling out.

Miguel: “You’re not a replacement! You’re not a joke or useless or anything stupid I said! I didn’t mean any of it I was just tired of being painted as the bad guy so I wanted to make you feel worse than I felt! But…I am the bad guy Y/N, Im a selfish fucking moron and I ruined a perfectly good thing just because I was scared we were getting too close and that would mean I might forget about Dana and Gabriella! So every time you wanted a date night or wanted to bring me to a family dinner or even just wanted to be around me I made excuses, because every time I did those things I felt myself forgetting. But I’m sorry! I’m sorry for saying terrible things to you and I’m sorry for making you feel worthless, I’m sorry for being so fucking stupid throughout this entire relationship, I’m sorry Y/N….”, He looked down ashamed, he sounded so small and vulnerable something he had not been in a very long time. You froze in place, taking a moment to process everything.

He finally looked back up at you and you stared at him with wide blank eyes. Whether it confusion, sympathy, or hatred he couldn’t tell, but your silenced scared him.

Miguel: “Please… say something.” He begged

Y/N: “Miguel…you’re grieving and I understand that, I think in some way you’ll always mourn the loss of Dana and Gabriella. But we can’t continue this at the expense of my own feelings, I need to know that if we were to keep this up you’re not going to keep hurting me during the process of you healing.”

Miguel: “I understand, I’ll do better I promise.” He felt a wave of relief surge through him. He leaned in to try and hug you but he tensed again when you rejected it, placing your hand on his chest and pushing him away.

Y/N: “I…I think we need a break Miguel…” His shoulders dropped in disappointment

Miguel: “So that’s it? We’re done?”

Y/N: “No…no were not done, I just can’t be around you right now. Just because I sympathize with your pain doesn’t brush over the fact that you just admitted to neglecting me on purpose all this time. I can’t ignore that. I need some space, and I think you do too...”

Miguel: “Y/N…”

Y/N: “Bye Miguel…” You opened the door and exited to see concerned faces all staring as you walked by. It didn’t matter what they thought, today would be your last day anyways. You left your name tag on the front desk and gathered your belongings. Miguel watched from his office window as you got into your car and broke down in the drivers seat before leaving the parking lot

Lyla: “Miguel…are you okay?” she interrupted, watching him stare emotionless out of the window

Miguel: “No.”

Lyla: “…Do you wanna talk about it?”

Miguel: “…”

[satelitis]

꒰ RIPTIDE ꒱ … pjo smau !

pt. II ft. @doyouknowwhoyouare13 @mictodii @spaceagebachelormann &&. @lunarluvbot &lt;3 love you all!!

lovespector

liked by: sanantonio, betterthanmichael, underthwood, wisegirl, valdez, and 29 others…

im the dog‼️ (no i’m not a furry😐)

@ underthwood

sanantonio: zigs in her furry era 💔

-> betterthanmichael: truely unfortunate

-> lovespector: you caught me bark bark 🐺🐺

-> underthwood: babe??😰

->nyxnotnyx: @ underthwood ur literally a goat???

-> underthwood: @ nyxnotnyx NOT BY CHOICE??

-> sunspence: well technically it is a choice if you can chose when u turn into a goat and into a human.

-> weepingwillow: #groverisafurry2024

-> underthwood: why am i being attacked rn?? 😭😭

underthwood: i love you angel <33

-> lovespector: stawp ur making me blush 🤭 i loce u too <33

weepingwillow: y’all r so cute fr wish i had what u did/j 😔😔

-> j.grace: babe??

-> weepingwillow: @ j.grace oh yeah <33

-> j.grace: 💔💔

weepingwillow

liked by: sanantonio, j.grace, underthwood, nyxnotnyx, valdez, and 33 others…

nnnnnnd we’re back!!

@ j.grace

j.grace: i missed u sm!!!

-> weepingwillow: i missed u more!!

lovespector: PRETTY GIRLLLLL!!

->weepingwillow: 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼

-> j.grace: reall!!

sunspence: silly gooses!!

-> j.grace: the silliest!!

sanantonio: you’re looking more ripe than that strawberry ;)

-> nyxnotnyx: rizz

-> lovespector: ^ -> j.grace: @ sanantonio i shoulda thought of that ://

-> betterthanmichael: @ sanantonio … ur supposed to use rizz on me not willow 💔💔 i feel betrayed.

valdez

liked by: sanantonio, betterthanmichael, underthwood, wisegirl, nyxnotnyx, and 45 others…

NYX!!!! ❤️❤️❤️

@ nyxnotnyx

nyxnotnyx: LEOOOO!!!! 🖤🖤🖤

sanantonio: don’t act like y’all were js screaming over a mcdonald’s fry…

-> nyxnotnyx: theyre a delicacy…

-> valdez: @ nyxnotnyx realll

lovespector: BBG IKYAM

-> nyxnotnyx: ILYMMM <33

wisegirl: leo is so head over heels for u ‼️‼️

-> valdez: yk for a wise girl u make dumb decisions sometimes…😐

-> betterthanmichael: @ valdez realll

[musette-thornsong]

OJ: Bride of Thrax – Domestic Dispute, Pt. II/Til’ Death Do Us Part

Here we enter the final chapter of the couples vs. enemies. Ozzy intends to save Leah and kill Thrax for the hope of a future together. While Thrax has everything set in motion to his advantage, Aura begins to rethink her choices in life upon seeing the love the cells share for each other. What will this mean for our beloved demon couple? Could this be the end? Find out now…

Warning: Explicit Language/Violence

Aurie Zurie belongs to me

--

Ozzy ran after Leah and Thrax towards the cemetery with Aura being unceremoniously swung by her burnt hair. Meanwhile at the cemetery, an unsuspecting white blood cell coroner is at work digging up Thrax’s grave for an autopsy with forensics to further aid the mass murder case. But before he can open the coffin, Thrax hovers above him before shooting a fireball at the poor cell. The blast causes his cytoplasm to explode all over the grave, making Leah even more terrified.

Leah: (screams in horror) AAAAAAAAHHH!!!!

Thrax: (barks) Get down there! MOVE!!

Leah: (hesitantly climbs down in the grave, struggling to lift the heavy lid off the coffin, grunting)

Thrax: (impatiently) HURRY UP!!!

Leah: (screams from the pressure being thrown at her) I’M TRYING YOU FUCKING MIDGET ASSHOLE!!!

Thrax: (angrily fires a warning shot at Leah from his gun)

Leah: (screams from the shot before using all her strength to push the lid off) AAAHH!!

Thrax: (watches intently as the scene unfolded before him)

Leah finally manages to push open the coffin only be met with Thrax’s boney corpse which was ragged and infested with germ rats. The sight was enough to nearly make Leah vomit in disgust whereas Thrax was just as grossed out regardless that it was his own dead body.

Leah: (retracts from the body ready to puke)

Thrax: (shudders in disgust of his rat-infested skeleton) Uuugh! You really didn’t need to see that.

Leah: (looks back to see the Heart of Damballa around the skeleton’s neck)

Thrax: (sees the amulet too, demandingly) Give me the amulet!

Leah: (hesitantly reaches for the amulet before she suddenly snatches it off, breaking the skeleton’s neck)

Thrax: (annoyed) Aw, bitch! Ya broke my neck!

Leah freaks outs before throwing the amulet up at the gravestone as it land near Thrax’s feet. Thrax picks up the amulet with a gleeful look on his face, happy to see an old friend again with his plan ready to come to fruition. But suddenly, Ozzy shows up having finally caught up to them with Aura in his grasp. Thrax spots them before aiming his gun at his old enemy. Ozzy quickly draws Aura’s gun to Thrax in standoff.

Thrax: (stares Ozzy down at gunpoint)

Ozzy: (stares Thrax down back before holding Aura’s head at gunpoint)

Aura: (grunts in pain feeling the cold steel pressed against her head) Ungh!!

Thrax: (eyes widen in horror of his love being threatened, demandingly) Let her go!

Ozzy: (retorts) Let Leah go first!!

Thrax: (lowers his weapon before looking to Leah) Get movin’

Leah: (begins to walk away towards Ozzy)

Thrax: (calls out to her) And Leah?

Leah: (looks back upon hearing her name)

Thrax: (grins maliciously) See ya’ real soon

Leah: (turns back around and continues walking to Ozzy)

Ozzy: (lowers his weapon before putting Aura down carefully)

Aura: (looks up at her old friend almost reminiscently, whimpering in pain)

Ozzy: (looks down at her pitifully, calmly) Get out of here.

Aura: (weakly turns around and walks towards Thrax, sadly) Why can’t I ever get it on with the real good guys?

Aura feels forlorn about her life at how much she had suffered and fallen. She had no family, no home, no job, and her friends and fellow comrades turned their backs on her. Everyone treated her like dirt or a piece of meat they could just dig their claws into. She thought she had finally found some resemblance of happiness when she met Thrax; the only man who seemed to understand her better than anyone. She had sacrificed everything including her humanity to be with him and hoped to have the perfect domestic life. But looking back on it all and how her choices lead to this point, she began to wonder…was it all worth it? She kept limping forward until she crosses paths with Leah before they lock eyes together.  

Aura: (sincerely but sadly) You’re a lucky girl, Leah. Remember that (limps past her towards Thrax)

Thrax: (keep the gun at elbow’s height for good measure)

Ozzy & Leah: (run into each other’s arms, embracing strongly and lovingly)

Aura: (reaches out to Thrax, begging) Catch me, Thrax (falls to the ground, coughing)

Thrax: (dodges her as she fell over, grimacing at the state of his burned bride, before looking to the cell couple) Uugh…

Ozzy & Leah: (kiss each other lovingly in relief that they both managed to survive so long)

Having had enough of mushy scene, Thrax narrows his eyes before flickering the flame in his claw and immediately throws a fire dagger towards Leah. Ozzy sees this and throws himself in the path taking the flaming projectile to back. Ozzy slumps to the ground in pain as Leah struggles to hold him up.

Aura: (looks up weakly to see the lovely couple)

Leah: (panics, faring for Ozzy’s life) Oh, God no!

Ozzy: (grunts, pleading) Pull it out!

Leah: (gasps in pain from the flams burning her hand, firmly grabs the dagger pulling it out swiftly and tossing it to the ground) UUUUUNGH!!

Thrax: (aims the gun at Leah, snaps his fingers recalling the flame to his claw) I’ll take that.

Ozzy & Leah: (hold each other close as they look up at Thrax with fear in their eyes)

Thrax: (picks up Aura’s gun and points both weapons at the cells with the amulet tied to his hand) It’s showtime!

Thrax ties the couple up back-to-back to prevent any further disruptions as Aura laid back against his tombstone. She begins to see how much they were willing to sacrifice to be together and then looks to the demon before her as he begins the chant to perform the ritual. The sky becomes enveloped with storm clouds and lightning swirling around them.

Thrax: (chants with a gun in one hand and the amulet in the other) Ade due Damballa. Give me the power I beg of you!Leveau mercier du bois chaloitte.

Aura: (crawls towards Thrax)

Thrax: (continues the chant) Secoise entienne mais pois de morte. Endenlieu pour du boisette Damballa! Endenlieu pour du boisette Damballa!

Aura: (cozies up next to Thrax, leaning against him)

Thrax: (looks down to his bride excitedly, cradling her face in his hand) This is it!

Aura: (looks up to Thrax, wholeheartedly) I love you, Thrax

Thrax: (casually) I know.

Aura: We belong together, forever.

Thrax: (smiles genuinely)

Aura: Kiss me

Thrax lowers his head and kisses Aura more passionately than ever. Leah struggles to get herself and Ozzy free while the demon couple was distracted. Aura slid her hand down Thrax’s torso towards his hips before gently clasping his hand in hers. Suddenly, her hand started to glow with embers and without a second thought, her scarlet eyes flashed golden yellow as she buried her claws into Thrax’s back; scorching his insides with his stolen fire. Thrax screams in agony as he was taken by surprise, having forgotten his love was also a practitioner of dark magic. He rolls to the ground down completely stunned by her sudden betrayal.

Aura: (limps over, looks down on her former flame with regret)

Thrax: (rolls on his side to look up at Aura, groaning) Why?

Aura: (finally seeing the truth before them, sadly) Oh, Thrax. Look at us. Don’t you see? We belong dead.

Thrax: (eyes widened from Aura’s sudden conscientious epiphany)

Aura: (woefully) Goodbye, love. I’ll see you in Hell.

Thrax: (breaths his last breath as his eyes close for the last time)

Leah manages to get both herself and Ozzy free of their binds. They gaze lovingly into each other’s eyes before coming into a strong embrace, glad that the nightmare was finally over. Aura looks out at the sweet couple with hopeful eyes that they will have a better life she did. She felt she could let go of everything and move forward. But that thought was put to an immediate halt when something hard hit Aura upside the head, knocking her to the ground. The sound was enough to catch Leah and Ozzy’s attention. Aura looks over her bloodied head to shockingly see Thrax alive and having hit her with a conjured Hell’s mace. Apparently, she had just barely missed his heart and was only knocked out for a few seconds. Thrax was about to go in for another strike, but Aura blocked his vision by throwing a clump of dirt in his face. Distracted, Aura quickly conjures up a Hell sword and engages Thrax in a duel. Thrax manages pins Aura against a vehicle, but she uses all her strength to push back. Both are at a matching standpoint until Aura bares her fangs and sinks them into Thrax’s hand. Thrax staggers back in pain from his feral bride as she charges him with the sword only to miss. Thrax takes the opportunity to strike her head with the mace, seemingly knocking her out cold as her sword disappears.

Thrax: (makes sure she’s down for the count then resends his mace to Hell, heaving)

Aura: (springs at him in a full-on bloodied rage and proceeds to strangle him to ground while keeping his clawed hand pinned under her boot)

Thrax: (struggles to get free while grasping at Aura’s wrist)

Aura: (chokes him harder, screaming bloody murder) ROOAAAAAAARRRRGHH!!!

Thrax: (manages to his claws free from under her as he springs up before grabbing her throat and immediately stabs Aura through her heart)

Aura: (catches this too late as she feels the Hell’s fire from his claw piercing through her, gasping for air while choking on her blood)

Ozzy & Leah: (stare in udder shock of the scene)

Thrax: (looks into Aura’s suffering eyes, breathing animalistically)

Aura: (looks up into Thrax’s venomous yellow eyes, sorrowfully) My mother always told me “Love would set me free”

Thrax: (grimaces at Aura’s pathetic state before pushing her off his claw) Get off me

Aura: (falls to the ground as she breathes her final breath)

Thrax: (stares down at Aura’s lifeless body, disappointed)

Ozzy: (grabs a shovel charging Thrax and immediately whacks the small demon into the grave)

Thrax: (lands on top of his rat-infested corpse, freaking out as he makes for the ladder) AAAAAAAAGH!!! HAAAGH!! AAGH!!!

Ozzy: (quickly removes the ladder from the grave, trapping Thrax)

Leah: (points Aura’s gun at Thrax)

No sooner did they trap Thrax in his grave, a patrol car pulls up to reveal the Chief of the FPD whose been following the mass murder case. He pulled out his gun the moment he saw Leah and Ozzy.

Chief: (points the gun at them) Let me see your hands!

Ozzy & Leah: (look up to see the Chief)

Chief: (orders to Leah) Drop the gun! Drop it!

Leah: (drops the gun)

Thrax: (screams and shouts frantically while shooting out fireballs) LET ME OOOUT!!! LET ME OUT!!! LET ME OUT!!! LET ME OUT!!! (tries to claw his way out to no avail)

Chief, Ozzy, & Leah: (ducks down from the raging fireballs)

Chief: (looks down shocked to see Thrax alive and in the form of a pint-sized demon) Whoa!

Thrax: (screams ferociously) GRRRRRRRRAAAGH!!

Leah: (grabs the Chief’s plasma gun and points it at Thrax) DON’T MOVE!!!

Thrax: (glares up at Leah & Ozzy menacingly, seeing the killer in the estrogen cell’s eyes)

Leah: (glares back)

Thrax: (challengingly) GO AHEAD AND SHOOT!!! I’LL BE BACK!!! I ALWAYS COME BACK!!!

Leah: (cocks the gun ready to fire)

Thrax: (resigns, sighs annoyed) Yeeeaah…. But dying is such a bitch.

Leah: (fires the gun several times through Thrax’s heart)

Thrax: (gasps as his blood spills out before finally falling dead next to his corpse)

The group looks down at the sight before them trying to unravel what just transpired. As the dawn approached, the Chief looked to the frightened couple.

Chief: No one’s ever gonna believe this, ya know?

Ozzy: (holds Leah close, worried) What’s gonna happen to us, Chief?

Chief: (hears his cellphone ring and picks it up) Chief here. *chatter* Yeah, I’m here now. I’m afraid we got another corpse to add to the list.

Ozzy & Leah: (look at the Chief, worried about the results)

Chief: (gives them a smile of relief) Jones & Estrogen…. Hell, they didn’t do it. *chatter* Just get forensics down here. You’re never gonna friggin’ believe this. (hangs up, looking to the couple) Alright, you two go on home. And stay put!

Ozzy & Leah: (leave quietly in each other’s arms)

Chief: (watches them leave hoping the best for them)

While the Chief waitd for the forensics tam to arriv, he has a look around and comes to find Aura’s burnt miniature corpse soaked in blood. He kneels down to hav a closer look completely unnerved at the grotesque sight

Chief: (disturbed) Jesus…

Remembering what he saw with Thrax, he carefully poked Aura’s body to make sure she was dead. After two more jabs at the husk, he goes in for a more closer looker only for Aura suddenly spring up alive scaring the wits out of the Chief.

Chief: (terrified) GODDAMN!! Son of a bitch! Holy mother of…

Aura: (screams in writhing agony) AAAAAAAAAAAGH!!! AAAAAAAAAAAGH!!! AAAAAAUUUUGH!!! AAAAAAUUUUAAAAAGH!!!

Chief: Jesus! Jesus! (suddenly notices something moving inside Aura under her wedding dress)

Aura: (continues to scream in pain as she struggled to push it out before shooting out a splash of blood and placenta)

Chief: (gets the full blast of the mess in his face and desperately wipes it off, freaking out) AAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!!!

Aura: (makes one final push releasing a blood-soaked Hellspawn before finally dying)

Chief: (keeps screaming in horror upon seeing the terrifying creature crawl out from under Aura’s dress)

Hellspawn: (crawls out into the world, shrieking)

Chief: (stares horror-stricken at the atrocity)

Hellspawn: (sees the Chief before attacking, shrieking)

Chief: (screams his last breath) AAAAAAUUUUGH!!!

And so, ends tragic tale of our demon lovers and the cell couple who persevered through all Hell had to throw at them. For those of you who enjoyed the Osmosis Jones characters in this Bride of Chucky scenario, thank you for your love and support.

[alpinecowboyy]

Rabid Behaviour Pt. II

I take what is mine. Call me a conqueror All bark - No bite Fleabag mentality won't get you further You'll claw, You'll howl, You won't participate. I'll be the werewolf moon to your feral sun. Shine on me; I'll reflect it back. No lace, No crowns. Shivers down my spine. Back against the wall. You've got me pinned and- I don't plan on fighting back.

18.02.2024 - R

[mwexodusofficial]

Chapter XV: DOGFIGHT! (Pt. II)

10 minutes before the Argonaut and SCR Armada engage in battle...

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

(Music: "Oh No!!!", by grandson)

(Ambience: "Nostromo Alarm Sound", under Chris Brinzo)

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

"Christ, Sal, are we fuckin dead or not, goddamnit?!"

"If you keep committing blasphemy, Naomi, we definitely won't be, fuckin' idiot! SHUT UP AND LET ME CONCENTRATE- FUCK, THESE FUCKING ALARMS!"

The crew of the Numia was desperate to find refuge on the Argonaut, and Sal had just received communications from the vessel himself, receiving instructions on docking; to which he had to hold himself back from sobbing in relief. The first of the SCR Armada was already arriving to either negotiate or make battle with the Argonaut, and he did not want to be in open space if the rest of the Armada came and a fight surfaced.

His irritation with the frittering, frantic questions and nonsensical doom-and-gloom predictions from the crew, along with the IRRITATING repetition of the ear-drilling alarm (alerting of nearby hostiles) had reached its penultimate state, and for a brief moment of clarity he started to empathize with just how painfully stressful this position was in times like these; times of strife. He wanted badly to sympathize with Haxel, but it clashed with his blatant and monstrous killing of the Captain without revealing the reason behind it- one he could only guess upon at the moment.

His mind wanted to wander, to think more on the crime-

No! Now was not the time for that. He looked frenetically about the console as the entire crew were standing with frantic death-fearing desperation around him barring Alina and Cortia (who were still in catatonic states), including Haxel who was under restraint by Barris and Chloe; most all of them were constantly harping on Sal for answers- the response from the Argonaut would determine whether or not they would be obliterated in the deathly blackness of infinite darkness; unable to be revived as no one would bother to retrieve their scattered pieces.

This was a genuine fear of death; a permanent death in which they could not be resurrected.

"Argonaut, Numia is docking portside, acknowledge!"

"Acknowledged, Numia... The Captain has relayed, somewhat crudely, that you have five minutes to dock or you will be considered an enemy vessel along with the SCR. I'm sure you understand why he said that. Acknowledge, or may God help your souls."

Sal almost dissociated entirely from existence, filled with such an ineffable fear that he was wasting precious seconds quivering in absolute terror. FIVE FUCKING MINUTES?! 

"A-Acknowledged! DON'T KILL US!" Sal spluttered into the radio, viscerally feeling the sense of a literal arsenal of guns pointed at his head, realizing he had absolutely no time to waste, tossing the receiver aside without care and immediately swiveling the chair and barking at Barris and Chloe as the rest of the crew was immediately put into a mass panic by the last words of Sal over the receiver.

"UNCUFF HAXEL AND LET HIM STEER US TO DOCK!"

Barris and Chloe were immediately outraged and indignant at his order, about to protest, when Sal completely lost it- THEY HAD ABSOLUTELY NO FUCKING TIME TO SQUABBLE!

"YOU FUCKING IDIOTS! WE HAVE FIVE MINUTES TO DOCK OR WE'RE DEAD! AN EXPERT PILOT TAKES THREE MINUTES TO DOCK, AND WE'VE LOST 30 SECONDS ALREADY! I CANNOT PILOT THIS FUCKIN' CANNOLI IN THAT TIME FRAME!!"

The faces of most all those present paled in stark-white terror, greatly unsettled by the uncharacteristic panic oozing from his voice; Sal was calm-headed even under fire, but this was sure as fuck an entirely different scenario- he was not confident at all in piloting as well as, if not better than Haxel or Tyler; the entire crew's lives were dependent on him! Sal felt a boiling mixture of abject horror and tar-black rage, to see that Barris and Chloe were incredibly startled and terrified, but still seemed hesitant to release Haxel. 

"RELEASE! HIM!" Sal begged him vehemently, tears streaming down his eyes as he realized just how close they were to total death because of the sheer fucking ignorance of this crew- not grasping the tenets of piloting, not knowing just how valuable a small-vessel pilot was for situations like this. "Or we're all going to fucking die, guar-an-teed!"

Barris turned even further pale-white, and caved in after another preciously-lost few seconds, working the cuffs and releasing Haxel's hands, which fell limp to his sides as his eyes seemed far-off. Sal was going to steer the ship to dock (near-guaranteed death) if he couldn't get Haxel to, but he wanted to try. Haxel was a natural at piloting- the Numia's best bet at surviving this monumental shitshow.

Smack!

Haxel was alight with shock and surprise running through his brain as Sal raised his palm and smacked the ever-living shit out of him. Haxel returned his gaze with momentary awareness, glaring indignantly and irately at Sal; and immediately noticing the pure, unadulterated terror emanating from the fat Italian's eyes.

"HAXEL, PLEASE DOCK THE ARGONAUT IN UNDER FIVE MINUTES, OR WE DIE! NO ONE BUT YOU CAN DO IT! SAVE US FROM DEATH!"

Sal hadn't even thought of what to say; he just blurted it out instinctively, a raw and unfiltered cry for help. Haxel's demeanor immediately transformed in a second; his shoulders set upright, his eyes re-focused, his stance confident and decisive once more; his mind momentarily cleared of. He immediately ordered Sal with unwavering authority:

"Get in the co-pilot seat."

Fuck his own life; the crew needed him.

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

(Music: "Are You Gonna Be My Girl", by Jet)

(Ambience: "Space Battle | Ambience", by Ambience Lab)

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

AND THIS WOULD IMPRESS THE SHIT OUT OF ALINA!!!

Haxel shoved the chair in his direction, sitting down as it rotated towards the console, immediately assessing the long-imbued controls and layout before him- the equivalent of a 747 Boeing pilot console by Modern Era standards. He flipped a few switches, pressed a dozen buttons, and set the layout to the appropriate framework before immediately shoving the propulsion to its max setting, rocketing towards the Argonaut with such speed that it seemed as if he were going to collide with the eye-blotting military cruiser.

"HE'S GONNA FUCKING KILL US! AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!" 

"WHY DID YOU LET THE MADMAN IN THE CAPTAIN'S SEAT, YOU FAT BASTARD?!" 

The protests were plentiful, in outrage and utter horror, but Sal quickly intervened, whipping out his baton and slamming the cabin floor to create a piercing ringing sound that forced everyone to flinch; clearing the panic for only a second.

"I TRUST HAXEL WITH MY LIFE WHEN IT COMES TO PILOTING!" Sal declared righteously; there was literally no time for eloquent and long-winded discussion-

BWWWWWWWWWWWWW-WIP! BWWWWWWWWWWWWW-WIP! BWWWWWWWWWWWWW-WIP! BWWWWWWWWWWWWW-WIP!BWWWWWWWWWWWWW-WIP!

BWWWWWWWWWWWWW-WIP! BWWWWWWWWWWWWW-WIP! BWWWWWWWWWWWWW-WIP! BWWWWWWWWWWWWW-WIP! 

-And that was exactly why. Within a few seconds, dozens of battleships, fighters, auxiliary vessels, frigates, destroyers, and carriers bearing the markings of the SCR warped into the millions of miles-long battlespace, immediately moving to confront the Argonaut in a line, and sighting in the Numia with scouting drones. Haxel glanced back ferociously at the shell-shocked crew packed inside his cockpit.

Everyone inside had seen the same thing. A double-whammy, wombo-combo, stuck-between-a-rock-and-hard-place-scenario that had completely FUBAR'ed their minds. 

The rest of the SCR Armada was here. The Argonaut II was reputedly brutal, uncompromising, and hyper-aggressive when it came to pirates and separatists. The battle was likely to happen in under three minutes as soon as guns were sighted and powered up, was Haxel's prediction.

"GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY CABIN, AND KEEP THIS SHIP STANDING!" Haxel roared with bulging veins and reddened sclera- the responsibility of their lives had shifted onto him now- his nearly broken mind was desperately trying to piece itself back together in a rapid fervor to keep his beloved crewmates alive and safe.

A unanimous consent was reached amongst the crew, and in a few seconds they hurriedly rushed to their stations with a familiar feeling of unsettling comfort; combat mode had switched on in their brains as a result of veterancy and military drilling; the end result being to ultimately place trust in every single crewmate of the ship when shit hit the fan- because death was the only presentable alternative to a rejection of the former.

As the crew evacuated the cabin with nothing except a screaming yearning to stay alive, they had forgotten the catatonic Alina and Cortia, who had been gently brought into the room minutes ago. Sal noticed this and exhaled in terrific frustration, entirely unwanting to try and bring these two back to reality. Haxel noticed Sal getting distracted by some sight behind them, and briefly glanced behind him to see Alina and Cortia, sitting on the floor in disillusion, mentally overwhelmed and completely shell-shocked by the events only a few hours ago.

On the sight of it, Haxel wanted to scream in bottomless despair and slam his head against the nearest object until his head caved in, but he had to repress the feeling with indomitable spirit and desire to save his crew from certain death. All he could do was rely on the singular doctrine instilled in soldiers throughout all of human history- the ingrained mindset, the martial-instilled discipline which pushed even the most traumatized and mentally-shattered infantry to reach the common goal of prevailing victory.

"ALINA! CORTIA! STAND AT ATTENTION, NOW!"

Almost as if under a spell, the two of them rocketed to their feet and stood at full attention, bodies straightened and armed straightened at an angle to deliver a crisp salute.

"PROCEED TO YOUR STATIONS, INCOMING TARGETS BEARING DOWN ON US!"

Even with thousand-yard stares, the two of them nodded swiftly, disciplined and composed even in the face of deadly combat, releasing their stands to attention and rushing to their stations with experienced efficiency. Sal, despite knowing the logic behind Haxel's action, was still reeling in shock from the powerful authority Haxel was emitting at this moment- he'd only ever seen him as a 2nd hand to Tyler and a charismatic guy during peacetime.

"I can't believe they chose this annoying-ass alarm sound for a military scouting ship!" Sal complained loudly whilst working the console. "It's like they want us killed by frustration!"

Haxel swiftly reached into the compartment beneath the console, taking out the manual override key (DNA-coded to only him and Tyler), and shoved it into the appropriate slot, pulling up the alarm submenu and turning it off. The ship was filled once more with a serene silence and white noise, but what horrified Sal more was that HAXEL HAD DONE THAT WHILE ROCKETING AT FULL-ON SPEED TOWARDS THE ARGONAUT- TAKING HIS EYES OFF THE COURSE TO TURN OFF AN ALARM?!?!

"HAAAXEEEELLL!!!" Sal screamed at him, much to his rancor.

"WHAT?!"

"DID YOU REALLY JUST TEXT AND FUCKING DRIVE?!"

"GET OFF MY ASS, WE'RE NOT CLOSE ENOUGH YET!"

"YOU ARE PUSHING MY LIMIT OF TRUSTING YOU BEHIND THIS WHEEL, MOTHAFUCKA!"

The ship's AI system, feminine-sounding, belted out a sudden notification in a calm, clipped tone:

"Four hostiles targeting the Numia, Captain. 

- Bearing 202.5 degrees, Mark-1, low, range 800 meters: single fighter, closing fast.

- Bearing 180 degrees, Mark -2, high, range 900 meters: single fighter, vectoring above Numia for diving strafe.

- Bearing 135 degrees, Mark 0, level, range 1200 meters: two bombers, vectoring to flank, likely targeting for disabling strikes.

- Bearing 170 degrees, Mark 0, level, range 2300 meters: one capital ship, targeting Numia for long-range bombardment."

Sal couldn't even surface words; this was an "imminent death" scenario-

"Tell Gunnery to lock guns on bombers, then fighters in order of threat level!"

Again, Sal was stunned into silence; he wasn't even able to deliberate before Haxel had taken action, and it was then that Sal suddenly felt a great heap of inadequacy and incompetency in the face of true leadership. That didn't matter a bit right now, though. He was just infinitely happy to know that his bet on Haxel might be saving them all from complete annihilation.

"Yes, Captain. Warning: capital ship is charging heavy plasma array. ETA to fire: 40 seconds. Evasive maneuvers recommended."

Sal noticed Haxel's face break and contort into pure despair at hearing the newly-transferred title, before reforming into grim and grit determination.

"Notify crew evasion is underway!" Haxel barked at the AI.

"Notifying crew. Bombers designated as Targets Bravo-1 and -2; Fighters designated as Targets Fox-1 and -2."

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

(Music: "Wayne", by Des Rocs)

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Sal was in sheer awe of the quick-reaction timing Haxel had to such despairing and stressful events assailing him in so quick a manner. Being the quartermaster, Sal had never even considered becoming the captain in an emergency scenario because of how reliable Tyler was, and since he'd never been at the front of the ship, Sal had never see Haxel in action before.

Facing down death so many times, and remaining unyielding... only now did Sal see what the culmination of that journey was, right in front of his very eyes.

What he'd witnessed here today would be burned into his mind for the rest of his-

"HOLD ON!" Haxel screamed, banking the Numia hard to the right.

"W-What?! WOOOOOAHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!"

Without warning, the entirety of the craft veered with a deafening groan of alloy and support beams, swerving in a spiraling rightward motion like a tiny gnat in the vastly tremendous open battlefield currently staging between dozens of massive space cruisers.

VVVVVWHHHHHOOOOOOM. VVVVWHHHHHHHHHOOOOOOOOM. VVWWWWWWHHHHHOOOOOOM.

Sal's face shed a waterfall of sweat in pure panic as he watched three massive bolts of plasma whizz past overhead, able to hear the sheer energy emitting from their essence even in the deafness of deepspace for a half-second as it barely sheared the top of the Numia and launched ever-further into the void past their front window.

Haxel jolted the craft again, this time pitching it steeply upwards to do a barrel roll, right as the overhead sensors in the cabin flashed four red dots bearing down on them from the left and right; the bombers and the fighters, attempting a total flank on either side of the Numia. 

As the barrel roll was performed, Haxel took one hand off the steering, straining his other with considerable might to continue the maneuver as he scrambled for the receiver with his free hand, thumbing the button and screaming into the radio.

"ALINA, KILL THOSE FUCKERS!"

"Aye, Haxel."

The voice that came over the receiver was simultaneously broken yet utterly filled with intensity, one which couldn't be discerned by voice alone in its origin. Haxel nodded and threw the radio aside, continuing to focus on the long-winded barrel roll as the fighters and bombers beared down on them from the left and right.

BSSSHHHH!! BSSHHHH!!!! BSSHHHH!!!!

Only a few seconds later, Sal could hear the onboard cannons firing away, sending faint yet booming reverberations through the ship's interior as Alina went to work against the designated targets. The barrel roll had finished, and Sal just now realized that the maneuver had placed the Numia below the enemy fighters and bombers, allowing them to-

BSSSHHHH!! BSSHHHH!!!! BSSHHHH!!!!

-perforate the underbellies of these bastards with ease and elevated accuracy. Sal actually found himself cheering loudly and raucously as he watched Alina's topside turret blast away at the four targets, tearing through one of them and exploding it while clipping another's engine and taking it out of action. The AI hummed to life again, delivering an updated report:

"Fox-1 is neutralized, Bravo-2 is out of action. Re-calculating... Fox-2 and Bravo-1 are coordinating a flank, Fox-2 is bearing overhead, Bravo-1 is pitching below the Numia."

"HOLY SHIT! HOLY FUCKING SHIT!" Sal screamed in pure, elated excitement. "ALINA IS A FUCKING BEAST!!!"

Sal heard Haxel quietly smirk aloud, looking over and seeing him silently smiling in enjoyment; an extremely odd response given the rapidly-chaotic situation he was being presented with. Sal was so distracted by the beastly accuracy of Alina that he had entirely forgotten-

"WAIT, HOW MUCH TIME DO WE HAVE LEFT?!" Sal blubbered in terror.

"It's going to be a tight window, but we'll have just enough if we can get rid of these last two fuckers on our ass."

Haxel's gaze switched between the closely approaching docking port of the Argonaut and the sensor pings indicating the approximate locations of the enemy targets. He seemed to deliberate for a few seconds, then raised his eyes to re-focus on the docking port once more. He grabbed the cord of the receiver, pulling up the oval-shaped radio and thumbing the button to speak to Alina.

"Big ask, Alina. I'll be moving nonstop, I need you to disable or take out the last two on our tail during evasion."

He placed his message, waiting for a response; Sal was far more panicked and counting the milliseconds for a response, because by this point he had no idea when the Argonaut would start pointing its artillery at the Numia.

The response came.

"On your mark."

Haxel nodded, grimacing as he readied his hands on the steering wheel. He waited until the fighter and bomber were nearly aligned above and below the Numia, preparing to bombard the scouting ship.

Closer...

Closer...

Closer-

"MARK!"

BSSSHHHH!! BSSHHHH!!!! BSSHHHH!!!!

Right in that second, he yanked the steering as far to the right as he could, causing the ship to groan loudly once more as its mechanisms were forced to veer as far in the direction as the pilot was seeking, arcing away from the fighter and bomber right as they fired their barrages, clipping one another with friendly fire. The fighter dipped downward rapidly as its positioning system suffered a momentary failure, and-

BSSSHHHH!! BSSHHHH!!!! BSSHHHH!!!!

CCCCCCCCCCCRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The hulls of the Numia and the fighter grinded deafeningly against one another, shearing off components, devices, coating and swathes of metal as they briefly collided, leaving the fighter completely incapacitated and the Numia partially damaged. Haxel immediately corrected the course, steering left, right, up and downwards to avoid not only the disabling shots of the remaining bomber, but the capital ship still firing long-range plasma bolts at the Numia with renewed vengeance.

SZZZZT!

One of the bolts deeply grazed the underside of the ship, tearing through the bottomside turret and a number of vital ship components, rendering a screaming cacophony of alarms to sound throughout the ship.

"Warning: Gyroscopic Stabilizer suffered minor damage, operational capability: 84%."

"Warning: Power subsystem suffered severe damage, operational capability: 54%, redirecting power to primary power systems."

"Warning: Communications array suffered catastrophic damage, operational capability: 11%, local radio comms still operable."

"FUCK, FUCK!" Sal shouted in panic, feeling the graze of death pass through his body like a malevolently welcoming force of nature. HE DIDN'T WANT TO DIE, NOT HERE, NOT NOW!!!

"Calm down, you fuck!" Haxel chided him, veering the Numia in a cylindrical spiral motion, like a bullet exiting a barrel, heading straight for the port of the Argonaut. "If Alina does her job, we only have one hurdle left!"

For Sal, being in the back of a ship was far different from being at the very front and witnessing the entire spectacle of near-death occurrences take place. How many more of the crew were just so blissfully unaware of how close they were coming to obliteration during battles like this?!

He had a newfound appreciation for both blissful ignorance and the new Captain of the ship, Haxel. If they survived this monumental shitshow, Sal would defend Haxel with his own life. Never before in his life had Sal encountered such ferocious near-death experiences and consciously experienced still being alive at the other end of it.

When the fighters and bombers came in front the left and right flanks, Sal thought he was going to die.

When the remaining two surrounded the Numia from above and below, Sal thought he was going to die.

When the plasma bolt scraped the underside of the vessel, Sal thought he was going to die shortly afterwards.

Yet each and everytime he was overwhelmed by death, Haxel had responded with simple, undeterred action.

THIS WAS A FUCKING CAPTAIN RIGHT HERE!

The docking port was only a few hundred meters away now; and Sal was feeling a rapidly-developing sense of hope and jubilation at the thought of actually surviving this ordeal.

Bssshhhh. Bsssshhhh. Bssshhh.

Torpedoes flew past the Numia, clearly aimed at it with increasing accuracy-

BBBBBMMMMMMMMMMMFFFFFFFFFFFFF!!!!

Both Sal and Haxel felt their ears momentarily ring as a deafening explosion rang dominantly through the Numia. It was the most dreadful sound any crewmate could hear; the sound of a hit that would rapidly crumble the ship's hull integrity.

Sal was seconds away from a heart attack, and yet still Haxel seized the steering, placing all of his trust and hope on Alina being able to nail the bomber that was imminently on their tail and keen to blow them up.

BSSSHHHH!! BSSHHHH!!!! BSSHHHH!!!!

Haxel waited eagerly for the AI to confirm the bomber's destruction, to no avail. He began to visibly sweat; It was in the precious seconds like these that a gunner had to shine; or it was over as quickly as the blink of an eye-

BSSSHHHH!! BSSHHHH!!!! BSSHHHH!!!!

"Bravo-1 is neutralized."

"YEEEEEEEEEESSS!!!! FUCK YES!" Haxel screamed, gripping his hands around the steering console until his knuckles whitened in fury and excitement. "HERE WE FUCKIN' GO!"

Wrenching the steering with all his might, he threw the Numia into a swinging arc, trying to align the docking port of the Numia with the Argonaut.

"SAL, DOCKING, WE MAY DAMAGE IT!" Haxel shouted, and Sal affirmed, paging the Argonaut and pulling up the receiver on his side.

"ARGONAUT, WE MAY DAMAGE DOCKING PORT ON ENTRY, ACKNOWLEDGE??"

A painful silence as Haxel rapidly came upon the docking port, practically having to reorient the ship until the ports aligned. He was not going to come in slow; which meant it was very likely they would slam into the port, initiate the emergency locks, and have to clamber onboard in less than a minute.

Then, a response:

"Acknowledged, the Captain is unavailable, I'll be making the decision. You'll be paying for damages."

"SURE, FUCK, THAT'S FINE!"

"You have one minute thirty seconds left to dock."

"Fuck. FUCK! Can't you give us some leeway?!"

"You can find out if I give leeway in 1 minute 30 seconds."

The cold and brutal tone over the radio was chilling, and Sal was entirely, dreadfully aware of the animosity. He slapped the receiver back onto the console, and gripping the chair's armrests in prepared bone-chilling anticipation as Haxel brought the port of the Numia rapidly launching towards the Argonaut's docking port.

"Align... align... align...!" Haxel muttered in utter concentration, watching as the meters closed rapidly in distance between the two ships.

A hundred meters...

Fifty meters...

Twenty five meters...

Fifteen meters...!

TEN METERS!

FIVE METERS-!

CCCRCCCKKKKZZHZHHHHHMMMMMMVVVVVVVVVVVVVVSSSSSSSSSSSCCCCCCCCCCHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!

The docking ports collided; catching each other before cracking under the overwhelming pressure of tonnes of metal bearing down on the winches, breaking apart and activating the emergency latches that launched tiny metal tethers into the approaching ship and pulling its weight in with hundreds of microfiber cables, winches, and pulley systems.

Haxel and Sal were nearly concussed at the front of the ship, jerked entirely out of their chairs and thrown around the cabin as it crashed unceremoniously into the port.

"Guh..." Haxel groaned, barely coherent. "Guh... guh-et the creeeeew in duhh... duhhh the -hhh- Argonuhhhttt..."

He placed his hand to his head and felt a wet patch of blood cover his palm, groaning further in pain and incoherency as he tried to stand up, watching Sal stumble out of the room and bark orders at the crew outside. He nearly lost consciousness and fell to his knees, jolted back to reality by the painful crash of metal against bone. He cried out in pain, crawling his way through the ship and toward the docking port as his senses were slowly beginning to come back to him.

His vision was blurring; he could barely make out his surroundings, and yet he could feel the familiar hands of his crewmates hauling him with quickening desperation through the docking port, and finally felt like he could relax for just a bit...

Unconsciousness quickly followed...

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

"He's a fucking hero..." Sal muttered in utter bewilderment as the crew of the Numia hauled Haxel's unconscious body through the docking port, waiting until the Argonaut's door opened so they could flood inside and seek shelter. "That guy is a fucking hero."

"Okay, we get it!" Barris exclaimed in panic. "Let's get the fuck onboard and keep our heads low until this shitstorm blows past!"

The crew wasted no time in herding onto the Argonaut as its port doors hissed open, immediately confronted by two-dozen rifles pointed at their faces by Argonaut garrison soldiers.

"HANDS! LEMME SEE HANDS!"

"GET ON THE GROUND, HANDS UP!"

"DON'T YOU FUCKING MOVE! DON'T YOU DARE FUCKING MOVE!!!!"

The Numia crew were befuddled by the contradictory commands, shortly before one of the soldiers shouted the others down and issues their own commands.

"Raise your hands in the air, stand still, and don't move while we conduct a search!"

The garrison soldiers quickly patted down the Numia crew, removing the weapons they had and escorting them to a nearby human-sized funnel that led downwards into a slope of pitch-black darkness. Immediately, Franklin, one of Numia's garrison officers, cried out in fear as they were herded towards the funnel.

"N-No! I'm claustrophobic!"

Without breaking a beat, the leading soldier, a maimed and dead-eyed Lieutenant with a grimace sat on his face, said:

"You can stay up here and die, then."

Franklin paled as the sentence was uttered, and ultimately resolved himself to dive into the funnel, screaming in terror as he slid into the darkness. The rest of the crew hesitantly followed, seeing no other avenue to safety at the moment.

One by one, each of them slid down, and were promptly greeted by wide chambers filled to the brim with dozens of garrison soldiers, buzzing around the bunkers with weapons at the ready. Sal looked around in complete surprise, shocked to see this kind of complex layout and planning for situations like the one the Argonaut was facing right now. He felt a tug at his uniform from behind and turned around, somewhat intimidated to see a Bridge Officer with a small host of garrison officers at his side, glowering at Sal with a loathsome expression.

"Name." He demanded coldly.

"S-Sal. Salieri Luciano, Quartermaster of the Numia and Acting Captain."

"Good. We're having a short chat."

[smalls-words]

Healing Hands

Summary: The attack on Kamar-Taj goes a bit differently than the stories say.

Warnings: Blood, death, burns.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Sorceress!Reader

A/N: Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii! So I feel like I haven’t updated in ages, so this is a little excerpt from my WIPs that I thought you might like! Idk what I should do with it tbh :’) This is also like a prologue!

pt. i, pt. ii, pt. iii, pt. iv, pt. v, pt. vi

*not my gif*

The battle was lost. There was no denying it. As soon as the Scarlet Witch had broken through the mind of a single sorcerer, the battle was lost. 

Death followed her. Your friends, lifelong friends, were gone. Those in the beds in front of you were clinging onto life with a deceivingly weak grip. 

Sparks flew next to you, but they didn’t alarm you. “Y/N, you need to leave. The Scarlet Witch cannot find you.” 

“If anybody needs to leave, it’s you, Wong. You’re Sorcerer Supreme, you know more than all of us combined. She’ll try to expunge that knowledge from you, in any way she knows how.” You barked as your hands hovered above an injured young sorcerer, charred burn wounds running the length of his left side.

The blue wisps falling from your fingertips streaked around the young boy’s body. He couldn’t be more than 9 or 10, and yet he was fighting for his life against the most powerful force known to you. 

Your hands began to shake before the tips of your magic, the ones that surrounded the boy’s body, turned black. You fought against it, you really did, but Wong pulled you away as the boy passed on.

“She’s infecting them, Wong. Some sort of dark magic, trying to seep energy out of anything it touches.” You grimaced, angered that you lost him.

You looked at the dead bodies around you. You could have saved them, but the Scarlet Witch was powerful. 

You turned to Wong. “Go. Protect the girl. I’ll hold her off.”

“Absolutely not!” He snarled, but you took his shoulders gently.

“Wong… She cannot take her power. Go.”

He gave you a defeated look before hugging you tightly. “It’s been a pleasure to be your friend.”

“Please, let it be mine.” You chuckled.

You stepped back from him before bowing traditionally, bidding him goodbye as he portalled away. You also made your own portal, your Slingy wrapped neatly around your fingers until you came face-to-face with the outside of Kamar-Taj.

The once masterful fortress had crumbled beneath the touch of the Scarlet Witch. Pillars had crumbled to the ground, cannons had destroyed the roofs of nearby healing huts, and you recognised the bodies writhing in the Witch’s grip.

“Where is he?!” She demanded of them, a hiss in her tone - an accent, perhaps?

She turned around at the feeling of your mind. It was bright, much brighter than those in her clutch. Almost warm, in fact. “The Sorcerer Supreme will not be speaking with you today.” You spoke monotonously, your fingers interlocked as they hung by your waist.

“And who might you be?” She asked, her magic no longer torturing your friends but they were still in her hold.

“Healer Y/N, get away! Run!” Rintrah bellowed at you, but she covered his mouth with a red seal.

“Y/N, huh?”

“I am Healer Y/N, yes.” You replied.

“And what exactly does a healer do?” She queried, taking a few steps closer to you as you stood at the top of the stone stairs.

“It is in the name, Wanda Maximoff - I heal those who are wounded.” 

Wanda hadn’t heard her full name for a while, amused that you would both know and use it. 

“Tell me, Y/N, what kind of wounds can you heal?”

You eyed her foot as she stepped up. “Burns, as of late. But lacerations, bruises, broken bones-”

“How about a broken heart?” 

You raised an eyebrow at her. “I’m afraid those kinds of injuries take a bit longer to heal.”

“How long would you say? If you had to estimate?” 

Even though the urge to step back came when she climbed the second set of stairs, you kept your ground, leaving you one more set between the two of you. “Depends. What damage did the heart take? What love was lost?”

“Parental.” A step. “Brotherly.” Another. “Motherly. Marital.”

She came to your eye length on the second last step, taking the final two to stand a few inches above. “Familial.”

“Then I’m sorry, Ms Maximoff, but your heart will need time to heal. Long, precarious time, with abilities beyond my own-”

“Oh, but you can learn, can’t you?” Wanda interrupted, raising her blackened fingertips to your cheek. 

“Isn’t that how the world works? By learning?”

“I-”

“Time is but a human construct to comprehend the vastness of the universe. The multiverse. Is there nothing you could do to learn more, to be faster than you are now?”

You held up a hand to her, your eyebrows furrowing. “If you wish for an answer, then you will give me time to speak.”

She smiled at you, stepping back once. It wasn’t much, but she was then silent as she waited for your response. 

You sighed, folding your arms. Wanda’s eyebrows raised in alarm - a sorcerer’s arms were its weapons. What on earth were you?

“There is a way I can heal you faster than originally thought.”

Her eyes widened before her smile grew. “Great. How?”

“Let my friends go.”

Her eyebrows furrowed. “No.”

“Then may you suffer for as long as your heart desires.” You turned around.

Anger bubbled inside of the witch before she threw a blast at your turned back, surprised when a barrier of blue blocked it. You turned again, your glowing eyes a frightening sight.

“Harming me will do you no good, Ms Maximoff.”

“ARGH!” She growled, whipping a wisp around you before she brought you closer, a firm grip on your healer cloak.

“If you will not give me an answer, I will reap it out of you, one day at a time.”

A glowing red sigil to your right alarmed Rintrah and his horns glowed, eldritch magic shooting out to grab your ankle. Wanda looked between him, the golden chain, and you, watching you shake your head at the R'Vaalian before blue magic cut through the chain like a hot knife.

*She needs it, Master Rintrah. Tell Wong not to come for me - this is something that must be done to protect the multiverse.* You sent the thought to him before Wanda’s sigil consumed you, red dust clouding your vision as she knocked you unconscious.

A/N - Ideas are welcomed!