#How to build a boat | How to build a small boat | Wooden boat building pla

[dollfacefantasy]

SO, KISS ME ♡

pairing: logan howlett x fem!reader

summary: to celebrate six months of being together, you and logan head off to a secret spot. and it wouldn't be a celebration without a few drinks, right?

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, fingering, light dubcon, intox kink, alcohol + intoxication

kinktober slot: day 2 - intox kink

Being the guidance counselor at Charles Xavier's school, you take your work seriously. You dedicate all that you have to the students. Helping them blossom into healthy, well-adjusted adults means everything to you in both a professional and personal sense. But because of your fierce ambition, you never really get the chance to let loose. Your nights consist of reviewing your cases. When you do have free time during the evening, you often spend it alone or with your boyfriend, just relaxing.

Tonight is different though.

It's your six month anniversary with Logan - which he makes sure to remind you multiple times, is not a real anniversary since it's not annual. But regardless, he indulges your desire to celebrate.

Holding hands, he walks you through the overgrown grass down to the neglected boat house that stands a few hundred yards South of the school's main building. The buttery blades of the field brush against your knees as your steps trail his larger strides. He glances back at you every now and again, a subtle way of making sure you aren't having any trouble.

The path the two of you take winds down to the old wooden structure. A collection of trees secludes it and the dock coming off of it. He leads you up the creaky steps and through the small musty corridor, smirking at your complaints about the possibility of bugs or other small creatures.

At the end of this trip, you finally reach the destination he wanted to take you. The small area that comes off the boat house and sits a few feet above the moderate-sized lake on this corner of the estate.

"Wow, this is kinda pretty," you say, peering around at the secret spot he'd found for the two of you.

"Kinda? That's all you'll give me?" he teases.

He pulls you the few remaining paces to the edge of the pine slats. You smile up at him, tucking yourself underneath his muscular arm as the two of you overlook the turquoise water.

"Ok, ok. It's super pretty. I never thought you'd be the type to do something so romantic," you correct.

"Yeah, well... I can be when I want to. And for you... I guess you're worth it," he says, keeping a cocky look on his face. He could never have you taking his words too seriously. Couldn't clue you in to the depth of what he feels for you in the short span of time you've officially been his.

He sits down first, and you follow in suit. His legs dangle, hanging inches above the murky liquid. Yours stay tucked up on the wood, crossed over one another. You take a few more moments to enjoy the scenery around you. It's nice and quiet out here. Pretty and green. Maybe it would feel creepy if not for Logan, but his presence prevents any eerie feelings from tainting your fun.

The hand that hadn't been used to guide you down here holds a six pack of Logan's beverage of choice. He sets the perspiring cans next to his thigh and hooks his elbow over your shoulders, pulling you close to his side again. His lips land against your temple, silent affection you'd grown accustomed to from him.

You tilt your head upward to brush your nose against him and look into the pair of eyes you found yourself getting lost in more and more often these days.

"You could've picked a more romantic drink though," you joke.

He scoffs playfully. "I'm celebrating too, aren't I?" he says.

Reaching over, he pulls one of the cans from the plastic wrapped around the top. He watches how your eyes follow his hand.

"You want one?" he asks.

You glance up at him and nod. Sure, you didn't care for the taste of beer. You weren't too fond of alcohol in general. But tonight was a special occasion. You figured it wouldn't hurt. It'd probably be fun trying out a new change of pace.

He rolls his eyes and frees another can from the pack, sliding it into your hands.

"All that complaining, but you're still gonna drink anyways," he mocks.

"Shut up," you say and give his arm a little shove.

The lid spurts as you pop it open. You bring the container to your lips and take a drink, scrunching your nose at the flavor. He grins at your exaggerated show of displeasure.

"No one's forcing you," he chuckles.

"I know," you say after swallowing.

You scoot a little closer to him and lean against his side. He doesn't need anymore words to understand what you're trying to communicate.

The two of you drink and talk for an amount of time that fades into irrelevancy in favor of enjoying each other. You sip your drink while he pops open another. The once-serene quiet of the lake becomes filled with the sounds of your combined voices and laughter. You swap stories in between lazy kisses, vent about nagging problems of your lives now as your hands roam each other's bodies.

You end up finishing two drinks. Your head is spinning by the time the second can leaves your fingers. He can see from the look on your face how you're feeling. Even if he didn't have his advanced olfactory, he would be able to smell the smooth scent oozing off of you.

After laughing a little too hard at a joke that wasn't that funny, you go for another one. He grabs your wrist and then cups your jaw, tilting your head upward so that your glassy eyes are on him.

"Think you've had enough, baby," he smirks.

You give him a goofy smile and shake your head. "Have not."

"Hmmm, I think you have. You're a total lightweight," he teases. His arm snakes around your back and scoops you up, pulling you to sit on his lap.

You don't protest the adjustment and instead snuggle into his chest.

"But today's special," you pout.

"That's true, but tomorrow isn't. And you're not gonna feel very special if you give yourself a killer headache."

You scoff despite the truth of that statement.

"You're no fun," you say and flick at his face.

He swats your hand away gently and shifts you on his thighs to make sure you're supported and won't go toppling into the water below. You still try to reach for another drink, but he stops you again.

"That last one's for me," he says. He knows that won't be enough to sate you though, so he tries an offer, "If you really want some more, I'll give you a sip of mine. Deal?"

You pause like you're thinking about it. In truth, that's just the delay needed for the words to register in your mind.

"Deal," you agree and smack a kiss against the corner of his mouth.

He smiles, and the two of you stay like that for a while. You continue talking, but it's a bit closer to rambling now. He doesn't mind though. The sound of your voice in either form is always enough to entertain him.

Every so often, you pull at his thick forearm, indicating you want a little gulp. Most of the time, he obliges you, raising the drink to your mouth and letting you have some.

He's not sure what it is about seeing you like this that gets his blood pumping, but sure enough, after watching your eyes flutter and your mouth swallow a few times, he feels the familiar sensation of heat pooling in his gut. Like a slow whirlpool, it lingers, teasing the idea of sinking.

His fingertips glide along your jawline as you drink, keeping your head at a suitable angle. He notices how glossy your eyes have become - similar to that of a doll's. When you pull back after a few moments, your lips shine with traces of beer. His dick throbs at the way your lids droop slightly when you give him a big, sweet smile.

"Why're you staring at me?" you ask playfully.

"I'm not... Now I know you've had too much - you're seeing things," he says, voice lowering as he leans in to kiss at your neck.

You hiccup a small laugh and shake your head. "I am not," you respond.

He smiles against your skin, but his lips don't deviate from their task. They continue moving along your neck, laying hot pecks along the column of your throat. The wet sensation makes you squirm a bit, soft whimpers spilling from your lips. He can feel his cock filling out in response.

Pulling back a little, he glances at your face. His own eyes are becoming a bit hooded by lust now. He brings the can back to your mouth.

"Take another drink for me, honey," he directs, "Want you to finish it off."

"Mkay," you hum and accept the liquid being poured into your mouth.

His eyes fixate on you as you swallow it down. He can hear the small clicks of your throat with each mouthful you take. His thumb rises to the corner of your mouth to swipe away the bit of excess that drips from there.

"That's my girl," he praises, "Nice and slow."

The low and smooth cadence of his voice brings a shudder up your spine. You keep accepting the liquid down your throat until no more oozes from the can at your lips. He pulls it away and looks into your eyes.

"Such a good girl for me," he says in that same tone, "Did you like that?"

You nod, a small, helpless giggle trickling from your lips. It's involuntary, a natural reaction to the man holding you right now when you can't think to stifle it. You lean back into the warmth of his chest. Your thighs press against one another and rub, trying to create some friction for the blooming ache between your legs.

He feels the subtle movements, the little back and forths on his lap. One of his palms lands on your leg. His fingers grip the squishy flesh, adding to the heat at your center.

"What're you doing, sweetheart?" he asks teasingly.

"Nothing," you say with a little smile.

"It doesn't feel like nothing to me," he says, digging his digits into you with a slight increase in pressure.

Your breath hitches, and your legs spread apart a few inches out of instinct. You craved his touch a few inches upward, ached for him to ease the tingling that resided at your center. He grins when he sees how your limbs move for him.

"You feeling a little restless, baby?" he breathes. His hands slide up to the hem of your shorts, teasing the fabric that rests against your leg. "You're getting all squirmy. Think the beer is making you feel funny, huh?"

"Little bit," you agree with a lazy nod. Your hand grabs his and drags it up to slot it against your covered pussy. You gently rock your hips to signal what you want.

He laughs at your bold display, letting you hump his palm but not doing anything to add to your pleasure yet.

"That's where you need attention?" he teases.

"Yeah," you whimper. You try to buck your hips more, but it's hard to get real stimulation with how he has you situated on his lap.

His smirk doesn't let up as he watches your desperation.

"Tell me what you want. Exactly what you want."

"You," you whine, "Need you to touch me. Rub my pussy. Gimme your cock. Allll of it."

His eyes blaze with desire at your words. Under usual circumstances, that took much longer to coax out of you. He'd have to really work you up to being so explicit about what you needed. But with the liquid courage in your veins, it all came much easier.

He rewards you by sliding his hand up and then tucking it beneath the waistband of your bottoms. His fingers venture down, cupping the expanse of your cunt before parting your lips and gently swirling his fingertip around your poor little clit.

A sharp whimper comes from you. Your legs writhe with delight while the rest of your body melts back into his.

"Those drinks just washed all the thoughts out of that pretty little head, didn't they?" he whispers, "Drained all that need down here. Now the only thing you're thinking about is getting this little pussy filled up."

You bite your lip. Heat floods your cheeks. But you still nod.

"Mhm. I can see it all over your face. Poor thing," he mocks.

He boosts you closer on his lap as his fingers continue to tease and flick at your sensitive bundle of nerves. His fingertips are rough, blunt contrast to the velvet softness of your folds. They swipe through your arousal. He gets you to whine a few more times before they coast down and poke into your entrance.

You mewl and arch your back. It was just the two of you, so you took no care to be quiet or subtle.

One slides in first and then a second. They're just fingers, but they're so fucking thick and lengthy. The stretch feels like the perfect warm up to what you really want.

He pumps them back and forth a few times. Your walls clench around him with each motion. He doesn't go too fast just yet.

Your head still spins from the booze, but the feeling is amplified with the waves of ecstasy washing over you. His hand that isn't knuckle-deep in your cunt holds you upright, occasionally groping your breast to give that extra burst of heat.

His cock hardens to the point of pain beneath your ass. He can't help it with how enticing you look, whimpering and fidgeting in his lap like this, completely lost in the pleasure he's providing.

"So sweet for me. So easy to get you all wound up," he murmurs. He grinds the heel of his palm over your clit, pulling more erotic noises from your throat.

"L-Logan. Need more," you stammer.

"You do? Already?" he teases.

A petulant whine erupts from you as your feet kick with desire.

"Pleaseeeee," you pout, "Need it in me. Need your big, fuckin' cock in me."

He chuckles against the side of your head. The words sound like your attempt at imitating dialogue from a porno.

"Yeah? Need me to ruin that tight little pussy?" he responds, mimicking the same style of speech.

Ordinarily, you probably would've laughed at the obnoxious nature of the words, but in this moment, you moan and nod eagerly.

He decides you've had enough teasing and indulges you. It is supposed to be a celebration after all. He slips his fingers out of you and frees his hand from the confines of your shorts. With you still on top of him, he scoots back on the wooden dock. The last thing he needed was for you to fall in the water mid-riding him.

The thought makes him decide to flip the two of you over entirely so that you're on your back against the planks. He could only imagine the other's reaction to you both trudging back in the mansion soaking wet, the scent of alcohol coming off you in waves.

You giggle when your head clunks against the hard surface, already squirming to get your clothes off. He helps you out with that and shoves your shorts and underwear halfway down your thighs. It would be enough for right now. The two of you could do this properly later tonight in the comfort of your bed.

He kneels above you and unzips his pants before pulling his length out. It's rock solid, yearning to slide inside you. He doesn't waste any time. His body hovers above yours, his bulky arms on either side of your head. He nudges his hips forward until his tip meets your dripping cunt.

You whine as he splits you open on the thick shaft. Your eyes roll to the back of your head. You don't feel anything else in the moment, not the rough wood against your arms or the cool breeze blowing over the both of you. Right now, everything is about you and him.

He pushes his cock all the way in and then drags it back just as slowly. Your slick coats him down to the base, making the swath of dark hair there shimmer with evidence of your connection. He grunts at how tight your pussy grips him. The wordless plea for him to never leave.

His hands stay planted against the wood as he begins to rock back and forth. Your legs stay bent up, pressing against his sides as he works.

You babble out words of praise, but they slur together and end up incoherent.

"What's that?" he asks with a playful smile.

"Said it feels s'fuckin' good," you choke out again. Your words fizzle away in an instant though when a hard thrust rips a squeal from you.

He chuckles and only pumps his hips harder.

"That right, baby?" he taunts.

Your head bobs in agreement, more mumbled enjoyment coming from you. You try to boost your own hips to reciprocate a bit, but you're too out of it. All you can do is lie there and let him make you feel good.

He doesn't mind. He likes the control over you, the duty to provide your pleasure.

"Taking it so well for me," he grunts, "Can't think or talk, but your body still knows what it's doing."

"Mhm," you whimper.

He smiles at the weak noise.

Your legs quiver in their folded position, the muscles in your thighs spasming as the feelings in your belly become harder to deal with. The blooming sensation of euphoria makes your brows furrow and your jaw clench.

"Oh, I know that face," he coos, "You getting ready to cum?"

"Y-yeah," you force out around whines.

You look so fucking cute like this, he's about ready to finish too. Everything about you is just so precious in this moment. The needy look in your eyes, the faint pout on your lips. All of it makes him throb.

Seconds later your hips buck and your back arches off the wooden dock. Your arms fly up and wrap around him. The sound of his name comes out garbled among other expletives and cries.

Every syllable is drenched with satisfaction, and it's enough to drive him over the edge as well. He's not as loud as you when he cums. His pleasure comes out in a muted groan, made even softer by burying his face against the skin of your neck.

You barely register the feeling of his release. Most of the time, it was your favorite part, but in your blissed-out, intoxicated state, it's harder to focus on.

The feeling that stands out to you most is when he slides out and peels himself off of you.

You whimper and grab at him. "Don't leave." you pout.

He laughs at your little display, shaking his head. "When have I ever left you, hm?" he asks and leans over to kiss your forehead.

You suppose it's true, so you don't protest further. He takes on the responsibility of putting himself and you back together. His zipper slides back into place before he tenderly pulls your panties and shorts up over your ass again. In a lazy attempt to help, you scoop up the used beer cans in front of you.

"We can't litter," you say before laughing a little more.

He decides to gather you up into his arms, carrying you back in the direction of the school. He didn't want you to trip and fall while inebriated. Plus, this would probably be faster anyway. 

You hold the lot of cans in your arms like some sort of makeshift aluminum baby. Your eyes stay on his face though, gleaming with adoration. He notices the look and raises his eyebrows.

"What are you staring at me for?" he asks, mocking your earlier question.

"You're seeing things, old man. Think you had too much to drink too," you answer before letting your head dangle back over his arm, another laugh echoing across the open expanse of the field.

[bamgyw]

˚₊‧꒰ა ♡ the second night ♡ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

the spiritualization of sensuality is called love: it is a great triumph over christianity. - friedrich nietzsche

warnings: +18 getting hornier. pillow,, humping,, heh. a tiny bit of voyeurism as well? fingering. and a lot of male yearning we love that, we love a desperate man. a/n: team we made it to the smut. the hand kissing bit is kind of victorian. jane austen, even. but. i don't care. i’m not 100% happy with the outcome so it might get a little edited in the (distant) future, but nothing fundamental. this is a part of a longer work ♡ go to the beginning here

"i am a forest, and a night of dark trees: but he who is not afraid of my darkness, will find banks full of roses under my cypresses."

beomgyu stumbled upon that quote within the pages of a stolen copy of a book by nietzsche. he had always found himself more drawn to the destructive lunacies of clinically depressed germans than to the saving grace of the holy scriptures. there was no self-pitying in the bible, no self-indulgent sorrow to hold on to.

he had found that book, thus spoke zarathustra, in soobin's room, tossed in the trash. it looked almost new, so he took it out of curiosity.

"why are you throwing this away?" beomgyu asked.

soobin shrugged. "it's a good read if you're a happy person," he said. "but if you're miserable, it'll rot your brain. more spiritual talk and petty self-help in there than in the bible."

but beomgyu quietly took the book without soobin noticing, and he carried it in his back pocket ever since.

he had no intention of reading it from cover to cover, but sometimes he would flip absentmindedly through the pages, fixating on some passages. and that one specifically had reminded him of you. his new meaning. the rose he found in the darkness.

during the day, beomgyu usually roamed aimlessly around the town, drifting along with the rhythms of his headphones. that was pretty much the sum of his daily human activity since he quit college.

it was all he knew how to do, and often felt like all he was good for.

as he walked through the town, the familiar sounds of honking cars, distant sirens, and murmuring conversations mixed with the music in his headphones. the air was thick with the scent of seawater and the faint, sour smell of industry. it was a crummy town, sordid. each step felt heavy, purposeless, leading him nowhere.

he had a few favorite spots he liked to hang around - the port where the boats came in, or the grimy industrial estate where the addicts gathered. they all knew his dad pretty well. and maybe if they knew beomgyu was the son of the man who supplied them with their shit, they'd treat him better. but that's a secret he kept to himself.

instead, he joined in on their petty fights, easily swayed by whatever side fit his mood that day. he was better at fighting than them, but the victory was hollow. he was younger, his body was not rotten –not completely– and he had full motor control over his limbs. but he got pleasure from winning, anyway. he liked to exert some control over someone else for once. 

still, that day he didn't walk to any of his usual spots. he had been feeling a sorrow less violent, an ominous need for silence. his feet, barely in conversation with his brain, dragged him to the town's small church.

he had never really stopped at the church before, just passed by without giving it much thought. but now, standing there, he realized it was probably the most beautiful building in town.

every other construction felt fake, in plastic and plasterboard, but the wooden church had been crafted by the artisan hands of a carpenter and build up by a community. it seemed to be lovingly nursed, too. though the church meant little to him, it was obviously fundamental to others.

when lost and adrift, beomgyu would wander, getting into fights and ruining himself. but under similarly pitiable conditions, others came to the chapel like it was a second home, sometimes safer than their own. beomgyu wished he had something like that, too.

the building was small, but cute. surrounded by a little forest of old camellia trees, its walls painted a crisp white. it was an old building, but it was thoroughly taken care of. the air was different, cleaner, carrying the earthy scent of the camelliae and the faint fragrance of blooming flowers.

beomgyu liked how the wooden cross crowned the roof, marking the building, never allowing anyone to go astray. it must feel good, he thought, to have some guidance like that when you don't know where to go. a flower in the desert, a light in the darkness.

he knew he was being stupid and overemotional. he had never believed in all this religious stuff, and he never would. his relationship with god, if there even was one, was mostly based in resentment. if god was real, he could've treated him better.

and still, he didn't dare to enter the chapel out of some reverential respect he didn't even know he was capable of. so he just stood there, staring at the chapel, feeling small.

he took a deep breath. his cheek still burned where you had kissed him the night before. he really was going out of his mind.

"i want her so bad. and i think she might want me too." he prayed. to the church, to its wood, to the camellia trees, to the sky –he didn't know, he didn't care. "please let me be with her. please don't hurt her because of it, or shame her, or kick her out or whatever it is you do with sinners. i promise it’s not a bad thing. it’s so much purer than you think." he said.

no one answered, of course. there was just silence. some ruffling of the leaves because of the breeze, maybe the trebling chirp of a bird, but no answer. he felt like an idiot.

praying sucked, he ratified. how could you even make sure you were being listened to? it was emotional manipulation, playing with one's hope. feeling down and disappointed, he left.

˚₊‧꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

entering soobin’s house again would have felt like torture, were it not for the certainty that you lived there, too.

soobin never really left the house. he only went out to go to class in the mornings, and he still chose to skip as many as he could. not because he wasn't a good student, he was disturbingly accomplished. he just disliked the people.

every day, soobin locked himself in his room and studied relentlessly. he was determined to make something of himself and leave his stepfather’s house behind. he had a plan. beomgyu didn’t know the details of this plan—soobin never shared it, fearing it might be jinxed if spoken aloud—but it was clear that soobin believed hard work could get him out of that miserable house.

beomgyu thought that rhetoric too optimistic, alienated from reality. but still, he had some admiration for him. unlike beomgyu, who wallowed in his own misery instead of changing his situation, soobin searched for solutions.

beomgyu sometimes found him too sickly and rancorous, but he still looked up to him for his willpower. not that he would ever admit that to soobin.

so when beomgyu got to the house, certain that soobin would be there, he gave him a call. it was a code they had. soobin leaned out of his bedroom window, and threw down the keys for beomgyu to catch so that he could make his way in. 

as beomgyu climbed the creaky wooden stairs, he realised that the usual thrill and allure of sneaking around that house he had felt at night was dimmed in the daylight. he hated the smell of that place, too. the air inside was stuffy, filled with the faint scent of old wood and something slightly medicinal.

as he reached the top floor on his way to soobin’s room, he passed by a closed door. pristine surface, painted white. he knew immediately. a pink mother-of-pearl crucifix hung on the wood.

he stood in front of it, his heart quickening. inside that room lived his little bird, trapped in an evil cage. his angel, his obsession. he gladly would’ve shattered the door with his own hands. let his knuckles bleed, let the splintered wood stab into his fingers. he just wanted to take you away and set you free.

at first he maintained a cautionary distance. he feared that if he got any closer, he would actually do it. but then he saw the little plaque under the cross, in sterling silver, shining when the light hit it. he approached to read what it said.

"the lord is faithful. he will establish you and guard you against the evil one." it said.

beomgyu scoffed, a bitter smile curling his lips. like some metal plaque could protect her, he thought. he's the only dangerous thing in her life. that superstitious fool.

he found it bitterly amusing, to the point of feeding his ego. some cultures hang garlic on the doors to keep away the vampires and the witches. your daddy had hanged a nacre cross to keep choi beomgyu away from you.

he let his hand reach for the crucifix. he traced his fingers over it, middle and index. all the doors had a crucifix of their own, but yours was the only one that wasn't a choppy piece of wood, crude and utilitarian. his thoughts wandered as his fingers brushed over the cool, smooth surface. he must be aware of how pretty she is, beomgyu thought.

as he did, a noise startled him. he jolted away from the door, retreating as far as he could. only when he saw it was just soobin coming out of his room did he catch his breath.

“you were taking too long,” soobin said, his expression gloomy. “i didn’t like it.”

“you care for me that much?” beomgyu asked, a bitter grin spreading across his face as he walked up to him, hands in his pockets.

"well, i let you into my house, didn't i?" he asked, accusative.

"you did." beomgyu replied. “it's not versailles, but it’s cute. lots of quirky decorations.” he shrugged, poking at the crucifix that hanged on soobin’s door, tilting it slightly. "it's like a theme park."

"eveything’s a joke to you." soobin replied. he seemed distrusting, his chest filled with something he probably shouldn't say. but he did, anyway. “you need to forget about her."

“what are you talking about?” beomgyu raised his tone, a flicker of panic crossing his eyes, quickly masked by anger.

“i know you. you’re going to let your impulsiveness ruin everything for all of us. it won’t end well.” soobin said. “she's not like one of those girls you used to pick up at private schools. if you want to manipulate your way into someone's pants, choose someone else.”

beomgyu’s anger flared. how dared he imply those were his intentions? how dared he assume he had any other purpose than caring for his angel and godsend grace?

he took a violent step towards soobin, who flinched slightly but held his ground. “you think i’m dorian gray or some shit?” beomgyu retorted. “you're just pressed because i'm not a pussy like you, restraining yourself to please that maniac. but whatever happens, it won’t be because i forced myself on anyone."

“she doesn’t know what she wants." soobin said. "she’s confused and love deprived.”

“and you’re a patronising asshole,” beomgyu snapped back. "who are you to say anything?"

“you’re playing with fire. if you wanna be a psychotic masochist, fine. but don’t drag others into your mess. get yourself hurt if you want, but leave us out of it.”

“us?" beomgyu asked with a wicked grin. "she's an adult. she can make her own choices. and if your stepdad wants to mess with her because of it, it´ll be over my fucking dead body."

“is this how you repay me for letting you stay in my house?” soobin asked, a mix of hurt and frustration in his eyes.

“thing is," beomgyu began with a cynical laugh. "this isn’t about you. you shouldn’t be this bothered,” he said. “and if you are, maybe you should check yourself and see if you’re acting like your stepfather.”

soobin’s knuckles turned white, but he took a deep breath and held it in. “just. don’t do it." he said through gritted teeth. "it’s not worth it.”

but beomgyu grinned wickedly. he had one last bombshell, one last thing to get soobin fuming. “i’ll let you know if it's worth it or not when i have your sister go dumb on my cock.” he said, feeling a twisted sense of satisfaction.

he shouldn't have said it.

instead of getting angry, as he had intended to accomplish, soobin smirked, too. it was unsettling. beomgyu got a ghostly feeling about it.  "what is it?" he spat out.

soobin inclined his head slightly towards the room with the mother-of-pearl cross—the room of his little bird. beomgyu turned just in time to catch a sliver of a prying eye, peeking through a barely open door. your eye widened when it met beomgyu’s gaze, then you vanished, the door slamming shut.

shit. beomgyu's heart raced, his breath hitching.

soobin smiled, a hint of triumph in his eyes. "consider her warned."

˚₊‧꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

late at night, thoughts of you consumed beomgyu’s mind. he knew he had fucked up. he knew that now you probably thought he was a creep and never wanted to see him again. his mind raced, replaying the words he wished he could take back.

he could’ve played his cards right. go slow, ease you into it. but he wasn't that sure now. the uncertainty gnawed at him, twisting his insides with each passing thought.

soobin's room felt even stuffier than the night before, the air heavy and oppressive. the walls seemed to close in on him, making it hard to breathe. the need to see you pressed down on his chest, but lingering doubt kept him glued to the mattress.

a lone fly buzzed around, its annoying droning echoing through the room and fraying his nerves. each pass it made seemed to grow louder, amplifying his sense of confinement, maddening him.

his mind wouldn't shut up about you. you had struck him as someone who knew how to watch your back. he recalled how cautious you had been around him the previous night, like a dog used to being beaten flinches at the sight of a stick. but your eyes had never left his. not for a second. they seemed innocent, but not naive.

he liked that, he thought. that you were like him, smartened up by your environment. but he liked the innocence too, so much. an untouched you, drowning in chasteness and self-restrain.

uncaressed belly, uncaressed thighs, uncaressed sweet pussy. he could make you feel so good. that was all he could offer, all he could give you. he had nothing else.

he knew he should let the thought go. that he should start wrapping his mind around forgetting about you. but it was late, and he was tired, and the only picture that lingered in his mind was a pearl choker and a rosary over a tender neck.

with soobin's steady breathing beside him, perhaps even asleep, beomgyu lay staring at the ceiling. images of you fluttered behind his closed eyelids, all imaginations of his lovesick mind. illicit, probably, but fated.

he thought of your pretty lips whispering praises meant for him, kissing his cheeks, his jaw, the curve of his neck. he wanted to know the taste of your mouth, the softness of your touch.

had you even been kissed yet? with a father as twisted as yours, it seemed unlikely. beomgyu wanted you to never have been kissed. he wanted to teach you how to do it himself. eat your mouth out, nibble at your lips and press them gently. but not hurt you. that was new. 

he would start slow, so that you’d want more of him. then he'd deepen the kiss, his grip on you tight, giving into whatever you asked for, never letting you go hungry. the tingling started, the blood pumping.

pause. he thought as soon as he became aware that he was getting hard. his rational mind tried to assert control, to rein in his desires. you loser, just by thinking of kissing. be cold-minded. a voice told him. actions have consequences. 

the voice sounded a little like him, but it was surely an imposter. if it wasn't impulsive and hot-blooded, then it wasn't choi beomgyu. 

"i just want to apologise." he lied to himself as he sat up all of the sudden.

he slipped out of bed, his bare feet padding softly against the cool floor. he moved slowly, mindful of the creaking floorboards that threatened to betray his movements.

but a subtle rustle, not caused by him, echoed in the quiet room. the soft shuffle of fabric against skin. soobin was awake, and he had wanted to let him know. but beomgyu couldn't begin to care.

as he closed the door behind him, trying to make as little noise as possible, a sudden thud reverberated through the silence. "shit!" he cursed under his breath. another door in that corridor slammed shut with a resounding roar.

someone left a window open. air currents cause noise, beomgyu mused as he made his way down the dimly lit corridor, his steps quickening with purpose. tomorrow night, he thought, he would make sure all windows were closed before going to bed.

as he travelled the shadowy corridor, he got a chill. he kept hearing the ruffling of fabric, a doorknob twisting, steps against the wooden floor. a shiver went down his spine, but he told himself to forget about. it was all in his head.

he refused to let the silent threat your daddy stop him from seeing you. that liar, that imposter, that self-proclaimed god keeping everyone hostage in his castle of authoritarianism and indoctrination.

when he got to your door, the mother-of-pearl crucifix halted him like a policeman. it seemed more commanding now than it had earlier. it was stupid, he thought, how the night enhanced every feeling. 

the cross regarded him and he regarded the cross. “i just want to apologise,” he told jesus christ. “i said something stupid earlier today, and i wanna make better.” he tried to convince him.

it was just a symbolic plea. a desperate attempt to absolve himself of guilt, to make him feel less lustful, less like a pig. to find redemption in the eyes of a higher power. 

he thought about what soobin had said, about god, about your father, about right and wrong. maybe he wasn't as smart as he thought. maybe he was loosing the game and they were all making him go insane for good.

he debated whether to just turn back after the thought came to him that you didn't even want him there, anyway. how could you want him at all, after just one meeting where all he received was rejection?

sure, he got a quick kiss in the end, but it didn't outweigh the pulling away, the uncertainty, the avoidance. what was he worth, really? nothing. not even worth enduring a scolding from your dad, let alone the weight of guilt. he was making a fool of himself. better leave now before anyone got hurt for nothing.

but as he turned to walk away, his heart heavy and ready to toss aside, he heard a noise from inside the room.

a whimper. it was so faint he was sure his febrile mind had made it up. that he was so schizophrenically in lust he had made you escape that sound in his brain. a whimper. a sweet soft whimper. 

he tried to make sense of it by convincing himself that he heard you crying. he even allowed his sense of self-importance to fuel thoughts of bursting into the room and offering you his shoulder to cry on. to cuddle you, to comfort you.

but when he heard it the second time, his breath caught. this time it was a moan, unless his yearning mind was deceiving him. he pressed his ear to the door. he clearly heard a trail of soft muffled moans. restrained, but just so lewd to his feverish self. his face burned, his cock twitched.

index and middle finger reached slowly for the doorknob. they brushed over it, hesitating. maybe it was locked. and maybe that was for the better. the hand wrapped around it, twisted it slightly. it was open.

holding his breath almost to asphyxiation and in the most silent motion he had ever performed, he peaked in. 

god existed, he found out. his mouth went dry. like a bird in the clouds, surrounded by snowy plush blankets, he saw his little dove making herself feel so good against her pillow.

facing away from him, your legs draped on each side of it. your hips swayed, heavy and slow, as you tried to suppress the soft whimpers your throat escaped.

beomgyu pressed his lips together, teeth sinking into his lower lip until almost drawing blood. the messy nightdress, one delicate strap slipping off your shoulder. how the the silken fabric fell over your ass, not letting him see but inviting him to find out.

he wanted to see your doll face twisting in pleasure so desperately. to have you take in his cock and use him to fuck yourself so sweetly like that. only one door was stopping him. the door with the pink mother-of-pearl crucifix.

as though hypnotised, he quietly entered the room.

but when the door closed behind him with a click, you whirled around, eyes wide and breath catching in your throat. he froze in panic, too, as he saw how frightened you seemed. what the fuck were you expecting, you disgusting perv? came in the voice in his head.

your instinct was to retreat like a scared spider, flitting towards the head of your bed. fluffy white pillows framed your trembling body, with only a glimpse of your leg peeking out. your cheeks flushed with embarrassment, almost to an unhealthy degree, as you tried to cover yourself.

beomgyu took a cautious step forward, his obsession with you feeling safe in his presence outweighing how turned on he was. "please," he whispered, desperation in his voice. "don't be embarrassed." he said. or be. you're so adorable, all flustered like this.

"i… i'm sorry," you stuttered, your words hesitant.

beomgyu raised his eyebrow, an endeared chuckle escaping his lips. "you're sorry?"

"i shouldn't have… i…" you struggled, avoiding his gaze and pressing your hands to your head in frustration. anxiously, you began to hit your head with the heels of your hands. "i'm so pathetic."

without hesitation, beomgyu rushed closer, wrapping his hands around your wrists in the world’s softest handcuffs. "not at all," he murmured softly, his voice soothing as he attempted to coax your frightened gaze to meet his own.

quietly, almost reverently, he knelt at the edge of the bed, perching himself over the mattress like a praying supplicant.

he was so fucking hard, his blood boiling inside his pulsating veins. scorchingly, painfully. his hands trembled a bit on your wrists as he struggled to contain himself, like the scorpion resisting the urge to sting the frog and drown them both.

“i loved seeing you like that.” he managed out, eyes fixated on yours. “i’m the pathetic one, i sneaked in here like some creep. i... i'm so sorry about what i said earlier today. i was mad at soobin, trying to get under his skin. but i'm kinder than that. i can be, for you. you shouldn’t be scared of me. please.” 

"i’m not." you said.

"good," he said. "i want you to trust me."

"i think... i think i do."

beomgyu took one of your hands, already entwined with his, and raised it to his lips, planting a delicate kiss on the back. you didn't pull away, though a slight flinch ran through you. his voice, soft and concerned, cut through the quiet, "is this alright?"

you met his gaze, his eyes looking up at you dilated and pleading like a puppy's. you nodded silently, allowing him to continue.

he pressed his lips against your skin a few more times, the wet sounds his mouth made filling the room. with a heavy breath, you took in every detail of his gentle kisses—the way his plump lips pressed and nibbled at your skin, how slow, almost ritualistically.

"what were you thinking about?" he asked, his voice a muffled purr against your skin.

"w-what?" you stammered, trying to buy time as your mind raced to come up with a lie less embarrassing than the truth.

"you were so pretty like that just now, all spread out like a good girl...” he murmured softly, "tell me what got you like that."

you stalled. with an achingly slow movement, you mirrored his action. you brought his hand to your mouth, and brushed your lips over it. barely touched, almost imperceptibly.

a shiver down his spine. a sting to his heart. he watched you in awed stillness, his watering mouth half-open. then you whispered, "you."

"fuck, i– i want to do so many things to you. if you'll let me." he said. a blush crept across your cheeks as you instinctively tried to shy away, but his fingers beneath your chin guided you back to meet his gaze. "what did i do to get you like that? was it because of what you heard me say?" he asked.

"because of everything." you replied.

he moved up from the floor with deliberate slowness, each motion purposeful as if he were approaching a skittish forest creature, determined not to scare it away. cautious, he inched closer, finally settling beside you on the bed. "tell me." he said. "i wanna hear."

"you're smarter than daddy," you began to say, your voice mumbled, as you gazed at him, his features so close you could count the flecks of gold in his eyes. "daddy thinks he's god's chosen one, but you keep outplaying him. so what does that make you?"

"a hellhound," he replied with a cynical smile, drawing even nearer.

"no," you said softly, shaking your head in disagreement. "you're good. and you're sweet to me." with tender care, you brushed his bangs, your fingertips delicately tracing the contours of his face like a child exploring a new toy. you lingered over his brows, his long lashes, the graceful curve of his cupid's bow, and the strong line of his jaw. "and you're… really pretty."

an impulse like a mighty wave of devotion pushed beomgyu to cup your face, his thumb tracing delicate lines over your skin as he asked, voice barely more than a whisper, "have you ever been kissed?"

"yes." you nodded. though there was a flicker of fear in your eye, like he would've been disappointed at that lack of purity. but if he did, he said nothing.

"show me how you do it." he urged, his words a gentle plea as he drew closer, his breath mingling with yours.

you leaned in painfully still, the weight of his gaze bearing down on you. but just before your lips met, you paused. hesitated. this changed everything. but beomgyu met your gaze unwaveringly, his eyes searching yours for any sign of regret or doubt. then, with a soft smile, he encouraged you forward.

you brushed your lips against his, ever so slightly. it was a trembling little touch. chaste. when you pulled away, beomgyu's eyes remained fixed on you, half closed and drunk in longing.

he gently pivoted the hand that had cupped your face, trailing its back along the curve of your cheekbone to finally rest it at the nape of your neck. "so pretty," he whispered. "why are you so scared?"

"i don't want to disappoint you," you mumbled softly.

beomgyu's response was immediate, a fervent shake of his head. "never," he insisted, his voice a husky plea, "you're doing so well. please, kiss me again."

with trembling fingers, you reached up to his neck, your heartbeat a wild rhythm in your chest. you nestled his upper lip within yours. a little more intensely this time, but still experimental, like you were gingerly trying to color within the lines.

beomgyu was gone. you were so soft and plush and just so scared to do anything wrong. he lingered, his thumb tracing the outline of your lips. "they're mine now," he said in a low growl.

he took over, giving you a deep wet kiss. unrestrained, heavy like a lion’s roar. as you moved your lips together, beomgyu demanded more and more, leaving you breathless. one of his hands rested on your thigh, tentatively stroking, fondling over the skin, as if to soothe you, to tell you everything was alright.

he tilted his head, seeking depth in your mouth. one of your hands traced up the length of his chest and reached his neck, which you squeezed tightly as you felt his mouth opening yours to let his tongue in. you tensed. he noticed. “do you like that?” he asked, breath heavy.

“i... yes."

and so he did it again. another painfully lusty kiss that left your lips soaked and swollen. you escaped a moan that he loved so desperately, making him bite on your lower lip, drawing another embarrassingly whiny whimper out of you. after a softer peck, he outlined the bitten skin with his tongue.

he devoured your lips again, eating out your mouth. he slipped his tongue back into your mouth to circle yours, playing with it; then he pulled back, as if urging you to follow him. he wanted you to try yourself.

his hand on your thigh moved to embrace your waist, fingers poking into your skin. you felt firm, secure. in the middle of the unbridled kiss, your tongue ended up in his mouth. so soft. my good little girl. he let out a grunt of satisfaction. happy with his reaction, your instinct got you to hold on to him tighter, trying to find a closeness that was impossible in that position.

he got frustrated at it, too, his groans turning into hummed pleading moans against your lips. for a painful second, he pulled away to say, "let me watch you fuck yourself, just like you were when i came in. please." he said. "would you be comfortable with that?" he asked. 

you nodded slightly, though you weren't even sure you were telling the truth. they were irreconcilable, avoiding embarrassment and giving in to the aching sensation in your pussy the moment he spoke those words.

he stretched his arm out toward the pillow, gently offering it to you, observing as you knelt on the bed and retook the position he had found you in. he helped you through it, caring for you with caresses and soft kisses, but he went back to seat at the edge of the mattress, gnawing lightly on his lip with anticipation. you didn't want that, you realised. you wanted him close.

you reached out your hand for him to grasp, "what is it, baby?" he asked, tending to you with gravity.

you guided him towards you, maneuvering him to recline half-seated against the bedhead. he caught on to your intentions and leaned in to give you a gentle peck before allowing his hands to settle on your hips, helping you in adjusting the pillow beneath you.

now on all fours, with him facing you, he noticed you wanted to say something, the words lingering on your lips. "is everything alright?" he asked, his hand tenderly caressing your arm.

you stammered a bit before shyly asking, “can you keep on kissing me?”

he smiled fondly. he would never in a million years be able say no to you. “of course, my angel.”

he drew nearer, his proximity warming you up. having him there like that, you didn't need to support yourself on your arms- instead, you found yourself instinctively clinging to his neck. with a mellow kiss and his hands firmly securing their hold on your hips, he led the start of the back and forward motion.

the first reactions the rubbing of your clit against the fabric drew out were subdued, mere soft moans and gentle breaths mingling with his the plush of beomgyu’s lips. but with his grasp pressing you down, those initial movements evolved into more intense and profound ones.

he let one of his hands abandon your hips to entwine his fingers in the strands of your hair. the louder your moans got, the tighter his grip on it. he was so hard, with no escape for it. but he liked the pain, the desperation. "you sound so beautiful, fuck–" he breathed out. "but i'm gonna feel so much better than that."

the promise echoed in your mind, getting you to let out a crying plead, "p-please, beomgyu..." you moaned out, as you fumbled with your hand to find his.

"you want me to help you out?" he asked, almost like it was a privilege.

"mhm," you whimpered with a sheepish, frantic nods.

"cute." he breathed out. his face was flushed and burning hot, his cock ached uncomfortably, but he spartanly focused on his little angel’s pleasure above anything else.

he wrapped his arms around your waist and took you to his lap, where he held you tight. "are you comfortable like this?" he asked, placing a a soft peck to your forehead.

"yes." you answered, embarrassingly. you were wet to the point of dampening your inners thighs, and you were mortified to have him see, to even stain him. but he'd notice soon enough.

he grunted as he kept on kissing down your face. your temples, the tip of your nose, the corner of your mouth, your ridiculously tasty lips. he held on to your waist for dear life with one of his arms, but allowed the other to travel down, slowly and deviantly towards your virgin pussy.

"you're soaked, my baby." he breathed out. you would've felt self-conscious at the exposure, but you saw in his eyes how bad he liked it. how starved and aroused he seemed when he began to caress your wet cunt with his slender fingers.

his cold touch startled you at first, making you hold on to his neck tighter. you were too sore, too sensitive. "don't be scared. i'm gonna take such good care of you," he said. "i promise."

tentatively, he stroked over the surrounding area of your aching centre, index and middle finger touching softly over your wetness. he performed circling motions in your clit, taking his time. getting to hear you. “b-beomgyu, you—god—you feel really good…”

he learned that when you liked something he did, you'd shower him in desperate soft pecks, like a puppy licks your hand after you pat its head. he wanted to see you react further, he wanted to try it all. he spread your pussy with both fingers and pressed forcefully against your throbbing clit with a third one. startled, you clutched his hair so firmly you feared you might have hurt him.

as by instinct, your thighs twitched from the overstimulation and seemed to want to close around his hand, but he didn't let them. he shushed into your lips with a soft "shhh," soothing as the seashore before leaning in for a honeyed kiss. he traced patterns against your cheek with his nose after pulling away. "its alright. you're doing so fucking well."

he let you catch your breath, but not for too long. he quickened his pace, your moans getting too loud, wept out and filthy enough to horrify all the saints in the house of god. it became a duel of you trying to suppress yourself and keep it quiet, and beomgyu trying to get everyone in the house to know how good he was for you.

to restrain the growing sound of your moaning, you buried your face into beomgyu’s neck, trying to muffle your voice against his body. but he huffed into your ear, "don't hold back. only you and me matter, no one else."

"i think i–" you whimpered into his ear, choking on your own puffs. the pleasure crept up on you, becoming too strong to bear and making your whole body shudder against his. "beomgyu, please..." you cried out.

he saw how close you were, and quickly thought if he should or should not stop it. tease you, edge you, have you go on all night. he could do so many things, he ached so much to do them all. but as he saw your pretty face so desperate to cum, how needy and palpitating, you were, he decided he had all the time in the world.

his movements quickened, each motion filled with urgency and strength. his veiny, strained forearm bore the weight of the world as he got you to your peak.

you came with a stifled cry but you muted your voice against his neck again. he wished he could've heard it in its full, piercing clarity, but he understood. you were so sheepish, his perfect little girl.

he didn't pull his hand away immediately, instead letting you feel his warmth for a little longer as you trembled against his chest. "my baby, you did so well," he whispered into your ear, his voice a soothing balm as he gently cradled your body.

now that the tension had drained from your limbs, you found yourself collapsing against him, your body limpy and worn out. it was then that you noticed the bulge in his pants. "beomgyu…" you murmured, your voice heavy. "teach me how to help you out."

"forget about me," he replied with a gentle smile. "i just wanted to get you to trust me tonight. to show you how good i can make you feel." 

you gazed at him, cherishing his handsome features. his cheeks were flushed, too, and his eyes so gentle. you couldn't help but cup his face in your hands, drawn to him. but as you leaned in to kiss him, he stopped you faintly, saying, "wait. don't kiss me. i want you to have something to look forward to, so you'll be excited to see me again tomorrow."

"you'll come back tomorrow?" you asked, your eyes lighting up with hope.

“i couldn’t stay away even if i wanted to,” he replied. but as he said it, he noticed a flicker of guilt crossing your face. gently, he brushed a strand of hair away from your reddened cheek. "how are you feeling?" he asked softly.

your gaze darkened slightly. "like i shouldn't have done it," you admitted. "like daddy saw everything."

"i'm… sorry," beomgyu said, his voice full of consternation.

"no, it's not your fault. those thoughts aren't real. i can make the guilt go away, in time," you reassured him. "but i like it when you hold me. that's real. i… like you. a lot, i think."

beomgyu didn't even know what to say. he struggled to understand how this could be wrong to any human religion or faith since the dawn of time, because to him this felt like heaven. he held you in his arms, all flushed and a little tired, your lips swollen like ripe cherries from the kisses he had given you. this was fucking nirvana for all he cared.

he deeply regretted his no-kissing rule, and he sought to end it immediately. he leaned in, but you stopped him.

"no," you chuckled, "don't kiss me. i want you to have something to look forward to so that you're excited to come back tomorrow."

he smiled back at you, like an absolute fool. maybe he was in love, even if it only had been a day, whatever. but how could he not be when he had the cutest being in existence all to himself? "give me a gift before i go, then," he said. "something i can carry with me.

"what do you want?" you asked.

"this," he said, pointing at your rosary beads. with a gesture that felt almost ceremonial, you took off the pendant and placed it around his neck. as you did, he couldn’t help but stare at your lips. "can’t i kiss you just a little?" he pouted.

you shook your head with a soft giggle. "your rules," you reminded him. "be stronger."

“fine. have it your way.”

he smiled, but it quickly vanished as you remembered him; “you should go. or soobin will know.”

he nodded, eyes filled with disappointment. the moment you lifted yourself off his lap, detached yourself off of him, an intense wave of pain surged through both of you. like a limb had been atrociously ripped off your body.

but just as he was about to leave, you grabbed his wrist, halting him. “beomgyu, wait,” you called out, rising to your knees to meet his gaze.

you pressed a gentle, lingering kiss on his cheek, just as you had done the night before. the softness of your touch sent a shiver down his spine. as you pulled back, beomgyu instinctively leaned forward, craving more. but you placed your index finger against his lips, stopping him. “you’re so weak,” you teased with a playful glint in your eyes.

he smiled ruefully. “i am,” he admitted with a sigh, the weight of reality settling back in. he really had to leave. “good night,” he murmured.

stepping out into the dark, the world felt colder, and his eyes struggled to adjust to the dimness. he lingered for a moment, leaning his back against the door, not wanting to leave just yet, but his head bumped against something.

of course.

he turned around to regard the crucifix, holding the one you had given him in his hands. same color, same material. a bittersweet smile played on his lips. “she was so good,” he told jesus christ. “and i think i made her happier, just a little. i feel a little happier too. i told you, it was much purer than you think.”

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ next part

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ so. i really struggled through this one. lemme know what you think.

[romerona]

All Y/N ever wanted to do was sing her songs and be free. Yet somehow, after offering to pay for the meal of a certain boy in a straw hat she finds herself causing havoc through the East Blue.

Masterlist - Next.

Trigger warning: canon violence. Word count: 7.4K

A/N: The only thing I will be describing about Y/N is her hair colour. Everything else you can imagine her as you wish.

Disclaimer: The songs I will be using in this fic aren't mine bc I have 0 creativity. I'm sorry.

Syrup Village, Gecko Islands.

It's been a few days since Buggy's mishap. The days dragged on tediously, with Y/N's head throbbing every time Nami and Zoro argued or Luffy experimented with potential names for their non-existent crew. Therefore, when it was revealed that Nami's boat was gradually sinking, Y/N felt a surge of relief because it meant they needed to navigate towards the nearest island, which they did.

Currently, they found themselves at Syrup Village on Gecko Islands…

The village exuded a quaint charm, with its small, closely-knit community and rustic architecture. Cobbled streets wound through clusters of thatched-roof cottages, each adorned with colourful window boxes brimming with vibrant flowers. The air was filled with the scent of salt from the nearby sea, mingling with the aroma of freshly baked bread from the village bakery.

Children laughed and played along the streets, their cheerful voices carrying on the gentle breeze. Merchants peddled their goods from wooden stalls, offering everything from fresh produce to handmade trinkets. The villagers moved with a relaxed, unhurried pace, greeting one another warmly as they went about their daily routines.

Y/N flashed a charming smile at the baker as she accepted the paper bag of biscuits. "Much appreciated, kind sir."

The baker, a portly man with flour-dusted hands and a warm, ruddy face, beamed back at her. "You're most welcome, young lady. Freshly baked this morning. I hope you enjoy them!"

Y/N's eyes twinkled with mischief. "With a scent this heavenly, I'm sure they'll taste like a slice of paradise. You have a true gift for making hearts flutter."

The baker's cheeks turned a deep magenta, and he chuckled sheepishly.

"You are too kind," he stammered, clearly flustered by Y/N's charm.

Y/N leaned in slightly, her tone conspiratorial. "Oh, but you deserve the recognition, especially when delectable treats are involved."

The baker's eyes widened with surprise, and a shy grin played on his lips. "Well, in that case, I'll have to make sure to bake extra special goodies for you next time."

Y/N gave him a playful wink. “I’ll hold you to that promise. Thank you again, and may your ovens always stay warm and your dough always rise perfectly.”

With a final charming smile, Y/N bid the chuckling baker farewell and sauntered off.

As Y/N walked through the cobbled streets, savoring the sweet treat, the corner of her eye caught a flash of orange. She turned her head slightly and saw Nami approaching, her hair unmistakable in the bright sunlight. Without missing a beat, Nami fell into step beside Y/N, her eyes scanning the surroundings with a practiced precision.

“Found something useful about this town?” Y/N asked, offering the open paper bag of biscuits.

Nami reached into the bag, taking a biscuit as she continued to survey the street. “We’re in luck. This is a ship-building town,” she replied, her voice laced with a hint of satisfaction.

Y/N hummed in acknowledgment, her gaze softening as a group of children darted past them, their laughter echoing through the air. An older woman, likely their grandmother, scolded them gently from a nearby doorstep. Y/N smiled at the scene, thinking that if she weren’t caught up in the whirlwind of adventures with Luffy and the crew, she might have enjoyed staying in a place like this for a while.

“How about you? Found something?” Nami asked, her tone casual but with an undercurrent of curiosity.

Y/N smirked, holding up the half-eaten biscuit. “Apart from these divine biscuits, not much yet. But the villagers are friendly.”

Nami scoffed lightly as she took a bite of her biscuit. “More like naive,” she said, her eyes narrowing slightly. “But that works in our favor since we need to take one of their ships.”

Y/N nodded, her expression thoughtful. “Let’s just hope they don’t notice it missing too soon. This place seems peaceful—I’d rather not bring trouble here.”

Nami glanced at her, a small smirk playing on her lips. “Don’t go soft on me, Y/N.”

Y/N chuckled, shaking her head. “I’m not going soft. Just enjoying the calm before the storm.”

The two continued down the street, their conversation drifting to lighter topics as they made their way through the village until they reached the straw hat Luffy and three swords Zoro.

“Hey! You got us a ship?” Luffy called out as soon as he spotted them, his eyes lighting up with excitement. Then, his gaze zeroed in on the bag of biscuits in Y/N’s hands, practically sparkling with anticipation.

“Working on it. Did you push the sloop out to sea like I told you?” Nami asked, her tone brisk as she kept her focus on their mission.

“Yeah.” Luffy nodded, already diving into the bag and pulling out the last three biscuits. “No Marines are gonna be following us here.”

Y/N’s scowl was immediate, and with a swift hand, she snatched one of the biscuits back from him. “Leave me one.”

“Well, we’re not gonna be here very long. Turns out Syrup Village is known for their shipbuilding. Lots of options,” Nami explained, glancing between them.

“What are we waiting for then?” Luffy asked, already chomping down on his biscuit as he began striding off in the direction both girls had just come from.

Nami sighed, her expression a mix of confusion, frustration and acceptance as she followed after him.

Y/N chuckled softly at their captain’s predictability, but just as she was about to move, the sound of paper tearing made her pause. She turned to see Zoro ripping Buggy’s wanted poster, crumpling it in his hand with a scowl.

“Stupid clown,” Zoro muttered, his tone laced with annoyance.

"Stupid clown indeed," Y/N’s lips twitched into a grin as she gave him a playful pat on the back. “But we did get to wipe that smirk off his painted face. Worth it, don’t you think?”

Zoro’s expression darkened further. “Should’ve cut his dick off,” he grumbled, tossing the crumpled paper to the ground.

Y/N laughed, a light, melodic sound that seemed to ease some of the tension in the air. “Ah, but then what would he have left to make a fool of himself with? Besides, something tells me your swords will have plenty of other targets soon enough, so don't dwell on it, hot shot.”

"For now, how about a little sugar to sweeten that sour mood?” She held up the last biscuit with a teasing wink. “Consider it a token of my endless admiration for your swordsmanship.”

Zoro eyed the biscuit, then Y/N, who continued to grin up at him with that infectious charm. After a moment of regarding her, he sighed and took the treat. “Let’s go then, stupid.”

Y/N gasped in mock offence, placing a hand over her heart. “You wound me, Zoro. But I’ll forgive you since you’re sharing this last biscuit with me.” She snapped off a piece of the treat and popped it into her mouth before Zoro could protest. Shaking her head with a smirk, she quickly caught up with the rest.

The four of them walked through the bustling shipyard, their eyes scanning the area for a suitable vessel. The shipyard was a hive of activity, each corner alive with the sounds and sights of shipbuilding.

Y/N’s gaze roamed over the scene with a mixture of fascination and appreciation. Workers moved with practiced efficiency, their hands expertly crafting the vessels from the ground up. Carpenters were hard at work, sanding wooden planks with smooth, rhythmic strokes, each swipe transforming rough wood into sleek, polished surfaces. Nearby, blacksmiths wielded hammers with precision, shaping red-hot iron into nails and screws. The clanging of metal against metal rang out in a steady rhythm, a stark contrast to the otherwise serene surroundings.

“Look at ’em all,” Luffy said, his eyes wide with fascination as he took in the busy scene.

“How much do these cost?” Zoro wondered aloud, his gaze drifting over the impressive array of vessels.

Y/N let out a scoff, her tone laced with sarcasm. “Oh, a pittance. Just your firstborn, an eye, half a leg, and if we're feeling generous a pint of your finest blood— bargain prices, really.”

Luffy’s excitement seemed to shift into high gear. “Okay, so we need one with a very, very impressive figurehead. At least two… no, three masts! And a really high crow’s nest!”

Nami shot him a look, “We’re not gonna be able to sail a ship anywhere near that size. There’s only four of us.”

Luffy’s enthusiasm remained undeterred. “Four of us right now.”

Y/N chimed in, a playful smirk on her face. "Unless you manage to recruit another weird, desperate soul to help us, that is."

Zoro grunted. “Speak for yourself.”

Both Nami and Y/N rolled their eyes in unison.

Listen, we’re going to need something a little less flashy if we want to sneak out of here,” Nami said firmly, catching Luffy off guard.

The straw hat boy came to a sudden halt, causing the others to stop with him. He turned to Nami, his frown deepening with confusion. “You want to steal a ship?”

“How else did you expect us to get one?” Nami asked her tone a mix of amusement and exasperation.

“I don’t know. But we can’t steal one,” Luffy said with determined finality.

Y/N shrugged her tone a blend of resignation and sympathy. She didn't enjoy the idea of stealing the hard, arduous work of someone but she also understands what it takes to survive. “It’s less about ‘wrong’ and more about ‘what works' because either we get practical or get used to swimming. It’s your call, stud.”

“A ship isn’t just a ship,” Luffy said, determination in his eyes. “It’s part of our crew. We need the perfect one. And we’re going to get it the right way.”

Y/N felt a twinge of sympathy. It was as if he hadn’t quite grasped the harsh realities of the world—or maybe he simply refused to. His optimism was endearing, even if it was a little misguided

“Okay, pitch that to the salesman. I’m sure that’ll win him over,” Nami said, her sarcasm barely masked.

Luffy’s smile widened. “Exactly.” He then started walking off in a random direction, leaving the others to watch him go.

The remaining trio sighed in unison.

“Right over his head, as usual.” Y/N huffs, shaking her head with a wry smile.

“So what are we actually going to do?” Zoro asks

“I’m guessing plan A, right?” Y/N said with a shrug.

With a resigned sigh, Nami nodded. “Find a ship and see how lax the security is around here.”

“Got it,” Zoro replied, his tone reflecting a mix of determination and acceptance.

The three of them set off in the direction Luffy had wandered. After a bit of searching, they finally found him admiring a ship with unrestrained enthusiasm.

“There you are,” Nami said, catching up with the eager boy.

“Guys!” Luffy called out, “I found it. I found our ship!”

Y/N looked up at the vessel he was so enthusiastic about. The first thing that caught her eye was the large figurehead—a jovial ram’s head perched proudly at the prow, its carved eyes gleaming with a friendly, mischievous glint. The ship, though modest in size, radiated a warm, inviting aura. The polished wooden hull, adorned with intricate patterns, was both elegant and whimsical. Y/N couldn’t help but smile; the ship was certainly unique, if a bit quirky. Just like Luffy.

“And this guy will sell it to us,” Luffy said, pointing at a boy with a bandana and a cleaning cloth in his hands.

The trio turned to the so-called salesman. The boy’s expression oscillated between confusion and alarm.

“Uh, wait. What? Uh…” the boy stammered.

“Yeah! The ship, we’ll take it,” Luffy declared with confidence.

“Technically, she’s not for sale,” the boy said slowly, earning a confused “huh?” from Luffy. “And technically, I’m not a salesman.”

“Then what are you doing around here?” Y/N asked, raising an eyebrow.

The boy’s face lit up as he noticed Y/N. He puffed out his chest. “Well, you see, I’m the Chief Technician in charge of encrustation removal and aviary waste eradication.”

Y/N stifled a laugh, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “Ah, I see. A very prestigious title.”

“Encru what?” Luffy asked, looking genuinely puzzled.

“He scrubs barnacles and cleans bird shit,” Zoro explained flatly.

Nami sighed, looking to Luffy. “He can’t help us.”

As they turned to leave, the boy’s voice rang out.

“Wait! Wait! Wait! I can help you,” he called, a hopeful smile spreading across his face. “The owner of this ship is my closest friend in the world.”

“Your friend owns this ship?” Nami asked, clearly skeptical.

“Not just this one. She owns the whole shipyard,” the boy said, his grin widening with a touch of arrogance. “She’s rich, rich.”

“Oh!” Luffy exclaimed, his eyes lighting up.

“I’m sure you could strike a deal with her,” the boy said confidently.

Luffy turned to the group with a hopeful grin. “See?”

Y/N pursed her lips thoughtfully. “I don’t know…”

“Oh, come on, Y/N,” Nami said with an unusually sly smile. “It couldn’t hurt to say hello.”

Y/N glanced at Nami for a second, at her grin, definitely planning something. With a resigned sigh, Y/N nodded with a tight smile. “Alright, let’s go meet this friend of yours and see if we can charm her into giving us a ship.”

The boy beamed, clearly delighted by their willingness to meet his friend. “Great! Follow me. You’re going to love her.”

Usopp, as they had come to learn the boy’s name was, led them to the edge of the village. There, towering above the town, stood a massive mansion that seemed almost out of place amidst the quaint charm of Syrup Village. The elegant structure loomed with an air of grandeur, its pristine walls and manicured gardens hinting at the wealth of its owner.

"I’ve never seen a house this big before," Luffy said gazing at the mansion.

"Impressive, right?" Usopp grins, and he walks backwards to talk to them a skip on his step as he continues, "Kaya’s given me an open invitation to drop by anytime I want."

"All of this just for one person?" Luffy asked, puzzled.

Usopp leans against the well, "Well, she lives here with her butler and a few other staff."

Y/N whistled as she peered down the dry well, a playful smirk on her lips. "When I’m famous, I’ll need a place like this—no, scratch that. Bigger, with a well so deep you could drop your problems in it and never hear them hit the bottom."

Y/N started to head toward the front door but was stopped by a hand on her shoulder, gently guiding her away. "Errr—not that way," Usopp said, releasing her as he led them toward a lush garden and… a pond?

Luffy, ever curious and clueless, asked, "So if you have an invitation, why are we going around the back way?"

"I never use the front entrance." Y/N frowns as she watched the boy leap across the large, floating plants. "This is more of a VIP entrance reserved for special guests."

In the short time of knowing Usopp, Y/N knew he had a knack for stretching the truth, but she hoped that at least this time, there was some truth to it. If he knew another way into the manor, he must've been here before. Plus, the way he talked about Kaya, the girl who lived there, made it seem like he knew her personally.

Against her better judgment, Y/N hopped onto one of the large plants. It was surprisingly fun.

Just as she landed on another plant, Usopp suddenly halted. "Oops. You know, there’s actually a more exclusive entrance this way."

Y/N looked up just in time to see a burly butler throw something with pinpoint precision, landing between Usopp’s feet, causing him to gasp.

"What the hell are you doing here, Usopp?" the butler growled, advancing toward them. Behind him was a blue-haired woman—another maid, Y/N assumed—expertly swinging a broom like a weapon.

Y/N couldn’t help but think, That’s... odd. These butlers seem way too familiar with weapons.

"Buchi, buddy, uh, Kaya’s expecting me," Usopp said, voice urgent.

The butler, Buchi, hissed, echoing Y/N’s thoughts. "Another one of your lies."

The butler grabbed hold of Usopp's shirt, pulling him closer as he hissed, "You ain't welcome here, and you know it."

Usopp, despite being in a tight spot, kept his carefree demeanour. "I know nothing of the sort," he said, unfazed, if a little nervous. "I’m here to give Kaya an extra-special gift."

Y/N couldn’t help but feel a flicker of amusement at Usopp’s audacity, even in such a tense situation.

Suddenly, like a beam of light cutting through the tension, a girl's voice rang out. "Usopp!"

From deeper in the garden, a young girl—no older than the group—emerged, leaning on another butler for support. Y/N could tell he was likely the head butler, judging by how the other two straightened up immediately. Luffy, Y/N, Nami, and Zoro exchanged glances filled with curiosity and confusion, particularly at the realization that Kaya, the girl of the house, actually knew Usopp.

With ash-blonde hair and wearing a soft pink dress, Kaya beamed at Usopp with pure happiness. "What a wonderful surprise!"

"Hmm!" Usopp grinned victoriously, brushing off Buchi's hands as he confidently walked toward her. "Kaya!"

"Happy birthday," he said once he was close enough.

Kaya’s smile was shy but full of admiration. "You remembered."

"Of course I did."

The head butler, wearing glasses and white gloves, cleared his throat sharply. "Usopp, we've discussed this. You musn't show up unannounced."

"Nonsense, Klahadore," Kaya quickly interjected, giving Usopp an encouraging smile. "Have you come to tell me another story? I do love hearing about your adventures."

"I'll do you one better," Usopp replied, turning toward Y/N, Luffy, Nami, and Zoro, and dramatically gesturing toward them. "I brought some of my crew."

Y/N’s eyebrow twitched in confusion.

Luffy glanced at Zoro, Nami, and Y/N, all wearing the same bewildered expression. "Is he talking about us?"

Kaya, however, does not seem to notice it and smiles at the four. "It’s so nice to meet you. You all must stay for dinner."

Klahadore’s eyes darted to Kaya, his tone instantly concerned, if a little anoyed. "Miss Kaya, it is a bit last minute. I’m afraid the kitchen hasn’t prepared for any extra guests."

From beides her, Luffy deflated.

"Please, Klahadore," Kaya pleaded, her voice sweet as she gave him a pout. "It’s my birthday. Can’t be too much trouble, can it?"

"Of course, Miss Kaya," Seems that the girl's pout did its work the butler didn't even hesitate this time around. "Anything for you."

Luffy perked right back up. "All right! So, when do we eat?"

Without missing a beat, Klahadore replied, "You don’t. Not dressed like that."

Y/N’s expression soured slightly as she glanced down at her outfit. It wasn’t the fanciest, sure, but she certainly didn’t think she looked bad. She scoffed, crossing her arms. "Rude."

"Sham, please show Usopp and his… friends to the guest suites," Klahadore instructed. The blue-haired woman stepped forward at his command. "You will all bathe and change before dinner," he added, looking back at the group.

Sham gave a curt nod and led the way inside the mansion, the others following.

"A bath does sound nice," Nami said, smiling as she followed Luffy, who skipped along behind Sham.

Usopp followed next, but Zoro and Y/N lingered—each for different reasons. Zoro’s gaze lingered on Klahadore with a hint of suspicion, while Y/N hesitated for a different motive. She wanted to charm the birthday girl. After all, as Usopp had demonstrated, having powerful friends never hurt.

With a dazzling smile, Y/N sauntered over to Kaya and the ever-watchful Klahadore, their gazes snapping to her in unison. Undeterred, she tilted her head slightly, letting a playful glint appear in her eyes as she spoke.

"Well, I figured after such a warm welcome," Y/N said with a subtle wink, glancing at the butlers before focusing on Kaya, "it’d be rude of me not to introduce myself properly." She extended her hand gracefully. "Y/N, at your service. And a very happy birthday to you! If I’d known, I’d have brought a gift—or at least a balloon or two."

Kaya blinked, caught off guard for a moment before a giggle escaped her. "Oh, thank you! That’s very kind of you."

Y/N flashed a grin. "Kindness comes naturally when I’m around people as lovely as you." Her eyes darted toward Klahadore, her voice dropping playfully.

"Though, if I’d known we were in for such a grand entrance, I might’ve brought a sword too. Seems like that’s part of the dress code around here." She smirked at the butler’s stiff posture, her words teasing but never crossing the line into disrespect.

Kaya blushed slightly, clearly charmed. "I’m so glad you could all join. Please, don’t worry about a gift—your company is enough."

Y/N placed a hand on her chest, feigning relief. "Thank the stars. I’m a terrible shopper, anyway. Though, if we ever need to sneak into a party again, Usopp and I will make a fabulous team."

Even Klahadore seemed momentarily at a loss for words, while Kaya laughed brightly. It was a small victory, but one Y/N could savor as she followed the rest of the group, already making mental notes on how to further charm the household.

But suddenly, Kaya began to cough, causing Y/N's grin to fade into a look of concern. It was then that she noticed just how pale and sickly the girl appeared—gnarly, in fact. Kaya’s cheeks were flushed, and her eyes looked a bit too bright, as if she were fighting something beneath the surface.

"Miss Kaya, we should head inside so I can get you some tea," Klahadore said, still holding into the girl.

Y/N stepped closer, her tone gentle but firm. "Is there anything I can do to help? I’m no healer, but I’ve seen a thing or two when it comes to health."

Kaya shook her head, trying to muster a reassuring smile, but it fell flat. "I’ll be fine. Just... need some tea."

"That you do,” Klahadore remarked, his voice neutral but laced with a hint of reluctant acknowledgment as he gently guided Kaya back toward the mansion. “Let us take our leave then.”

As they moved, Klahadore glanced back at Y/N, his voice cold professionalism. “Please, Miss Y/N, follow your friends to the guest suites and make yourself presentable for dinner.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow at his words but kept her composure, offering a charming smile. “Of course, wouldn’t want to miss the chance to freshen up. After all, first impressions are everything.”

She gave a playful wink before turning on her heel, but not before throwing a quick glance at Kaya, silently promising to check on her later.

After a thorough, very refreshing, and much-needed wash, Y/N made her way to the closet, expecting a modest room with a few spare garments and maybe some accessories to choose from. But as soon as she opened the door, her jaw nearly hit the floor.

The ‘closet’ was an entire room—no, a boutique—bursting at the seams with every kind of clothing imaginable. Silks, satins, velvets, lace, and fabrics she couldn’t even name filled the racks. Gowns, tunics, trousers, and dresses in every color she could dream of. There were shelves dedicated to shoes, from the dainty to the daring, and accessories sparkling like stars under soft light. It was basically the heaven of clothing, and Y/N was living for it.

Her eyes gleamed as she stepped inside, fingers grazing the fabrics, a giddy smile creeping onto her face.

“Oh, I could get used to this…” she muttered, practically vibrating with excitement. She didn’t know where to begin—was it the shoes, the gowns, or that ridiculously luxurious-looking coat hanging in the corner?

However, as the rest of her group entered the ‘closet,’ it became clear that Y/N was the only one genuinely enjoying the experience.

“Why would anyone even need this many clothes?” Luffy asked, his voice echoing off the lavishly adorned walls as Y/N held up yet another dress to inspect.

Nami, behind a divider, was quick to respond. “It’s not about need with these people; it’s about want.”

“What are we even supposed to wear?” Luffy asked, looking utterly baffled as he peered at the colorful array of garments.

Y/N grinned, feeling a spark of mischief. “Literally anything you want, stud. And I say we should take advantage of it because I hardly think you’ll wear wear things this nice in the future.”

She held up a black vest, similar to the ones he usually wears, playfully placing it over his chest and winked. “This one might bring out those dreamy eyes of yours.”

Luffy blinked, momentarily processing, before breaking into a wide, goofy grin. “You really think so?”

“Absolutely!“ Y/N chuckled, giving him a playful nudge. “You could be the life of the party.”

Nami stepped out from behind the divider, her figure adorned in a classic dark blue dress. She struck a pose, looking expectantly at Luffy and Y/N. “Well? What do you think?”

“You look like Nami,” Luffy shrugged, offering a response that did little to boost her confidence.

Nami’s lips pursed in irritation, and she turned to Y/N for a second opinion. Y/N shook her head. “Not your style, pumpkin. We need something that really pops!”

“Hey, Zoro!” Luffy called out, causing Y/N to glance toward the entrance.

Zoro entered, his usual indifference etched on his face. Clad in a bathrobe and holding his three swords, he scanned the room with a nonchalant air.

“What are you gonna wear?” Luffy asked, curiosity evident in his tone.

“Something black,” Zoro replied flatly as he moved deeper into the room.

“How edgy,” Nami muttered sarcastically from behind the divider.

“I don’t know, I reckon I quite like black on him,” Y/N said, slipping into a pretty yellow dress that shimmered in the light.

“Hey, does that butler seem familiar to you guys?” Zoro asked, his gaze drifting toward the door.

Nami shot back, “Yeah, I think he was at the last dinner party I attended.”

“I swear I’ve seen him somewhere,” Zoro continued, taking a seat and placing his swords on the ground beside him.

Nami emerged again, now in another lackluster dress. “How’s this?”

Luffy shrugged, “Still Nami.”

“I said I’m wearing black,” Zoro reiterated, his expression unchanged.

“I hate you guys,” Nami deadpanned.

“Y’know, Zoro, now that you mention it, he does seem oddly familiar,” Y/N chimed in, stepping out from another divider in her eye-catching yellow dress. She looked at Nami and shook her head. “No, baby. That just won’t do. We need something that’ll make a statement —not blend into the wallpaper!”

“You’re all annoying,” Nami huffs as she started to look through the racks of clothes.

With newfound energy, Y/N began rifling through the dresses again, determined to find the perfect outfit for Nami. “Let’s find you something that’ll turn heads!”

"Sadly, Y/N, we're not all you," Nami muttered, half-joking as she skimmed through the rows of clothes.

Y/N gave a playful smirk, flicking through the garments with ease. "Well, darling, not everyone can have my impeccable taste."

As they continued to browse, Luffy wandered aimlessly around the room, his eyes darting from the towering shelves to the endless racks of extravagant outfits. “I kind of feel bad for Kaya,” he said, almost absentmindedly. “All this stuff. All this space. It’s gotta make a person feel… lonely.”

Y/N paused, her hand hovering over a dress. Luffy's innocent observation hung in the air, tugging at a thread of empathy that she hadn’t quite expected to feel in that moment.

"He's got a point," she said softly, glancing around at the grandeur that suddenly felt a bit... empty. "Having all these nice things doesn’t mean much if you don’t have anyone to share it with."

Nami crossed her arms, her tone dry. "Rich people don’t have the same emotions we do. This stuff doesn’t make her feel lonely. It makes her feel important."

Y/N pursed her lips thoughtfully, still not quite buying Nami’s take. Kaya hadn’t struck her as the type to relish in wealth or power, but then again, she’d only just met the girl. “Hmm,” she hummed noncommittally, pulling a sleek red dress off the rack. "Maybe… but she didn’t seem like the ‘money equals importance’ type."

"Well, Usopp likes her," Luffy chimed in, ever the optimist. "And she invited us to dinner!" His eyes sparkled at the mention of food, an unmistakable grin spreading across his face. "I’m sure we can work out a way to get that ship."

Nami didn’t even glance up, still rifling through the endless garments. "No way. Rich people don’t stay rich by giving things away."

Y/N shrugged, holding the dress up to regard it. "She might."

Nami mumbled under her breath, “Hardly.”

But Luffy’s grin only widened as he turned to Nami with a glint in his eyes. "You want to bet?"

That caught Nami’s attention. She stopped mid-search and eyed him with interest. "What are the terms?"

Luffy stepped forward, confident as ever. "I bet I can convince Kaya to give us that ship."

Nami raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "And when you can’t?"

Luffy paused for just a second before answering, "We go with your plan. Steal one and move on."

Nami grinned, extending her hand. "You’re on."

Y/N rolled her eyes dramatically, draping the red dress over her arm. "Oh, goodie. A gentleman’s wager. How refined." She glanced between them with a playful smirk. "I’d start polishing my silver tongue if I were you, Stud."

Nami pulled out another shirt, giving it a brief glance before casually tossing it at Zoro. He caught it effortlessly and looked it over with his usual deadpan expression.

"Nice," Zoro muttered, as if mildly impressed, but not overly excited.

Nami barely had time to react before Y/N swept in like a whirlwind, red dress in hand and that signature mischievous grin plastered across her face. With a teasing flourish, Y/N wiggled the dress toward her like it was the Holy Grail.

"Found something for ya, pumpkin," she teased, voice dripping with playful charm.

Nami raised an eyebrow, eyeing the dress skeptically. "Red? Really?"

"Trust me," Y/N winked, grabbing Nami’s hand and practically dragging her behind the room divider. She positioned her in front of the mirror, standing behind her and holding the dress up to Nami’s frame. The contrast of the vibrant red against Nami’s skin made Y/N’s grin widen.

"See?" Y/N purred, her voice dipping into a whisper as she met Nami's gaze in the reflection. "This dress is the perfect blend of sultry and sophisticated—just like you, Nami. It’ll hug your curves in all the right places and make you look utterly irresistible." She flashed a knowing smile, adding, "Trust me, It’ll make you look like a million Berri."

Nami’s lips twitched, trying and failing to hide a smile. "You're dangerous."

Y/N grinned wider, giving Nami a playful nudge. "Dangerously right, you mean."

Nami, after a moment of staring at Y/N in the reflection, looked away, her gaze darting as if she’d just been caught in a secret. An uncharacteristic hint of pink dusted her cheeks as she took the dress from Y/N. "Fine, whatever. I’ll wear it,"

“Great!” Y/N exclaimed, her grin blooming into a triumphant beam, practically radiating delight. With Nami set, she turned back to the closet, her eyes dancing over the racks like a kid in a candy store. ‘Now, it’s time for me to find something…’

At long last, the four were dressed to the nines, gathered in the grand foyer, waiting for Kaya. Usopp and Luffy were thoroughly enjoying the appetizers, both looking like kids in a candy store as they devoured the tiny, fancy bites with gusto.

Nami, ever the strategist, was busy chatting up Merry, the man who handled Kaya’s finances. He had a peculiar appearance—his hair resembling a lamb’s fleece with two small horns poking through, making him look as though he’d just wandered off a pastoral scene. Despite the odd look,

Zoro, in true Zoro fashion, had found the comfiest spot in the room—a plush sofa—and settled in with a glass of fruity cocktail, his face unreadable as always. He gave off the impression of someone who had no interest in the opulence around him.

Y/N, with her cocktail in hand, decided to join the swordsman, her emerald dress flowing elegantly as she took a seat beside him.

"So, you look... almost civilized," she teased with a playful smirk, swirling her drink as she settled in. "I think that fruity cocktail’s working wonders for your edge."

Zoro scoffed, glancing at her from the corner of his eye. "Don’t get used to it."

Y/N chuckled, taking a sip of her drink. "Wouldn’t dream of it, hotshot. Though I gotta say, you look unsurprisingly handsome. You might even be mistaken for a gentleman if you stay quiet long enough."

Zoro raised an eyebrow, leaning back into the sofa with an amused grunt. "I’ll take that as an insult." He watched her out of the corner of his eye before adding, "You’re not so bad yourself. That dress looks... expensive."

"Why, thank you, Zoro." Y/N winked at him. "It’s called ‘style'. I wouldn’t expect you to understand, but you wear black with enough attitude that I suppose it evens out."

He gave a small chuckle, which was about the closest to a compliment she'd expect from him. The two sat there in a comfortable silence for a moment, watching the others.

"Think this dinner’s going to be as fancy as all this?" Y/N asked, glancing around the opulent surroundings.

Zoro shrugged, taking another sip. "Doesn’t matter to me as long as the food’s good. Fancy or not, it all goes down the same way."

Y/N laughed, raising her glass in agreement. "I’ll drink to that."

A moment later, the soft clearing of a throat at the top of the stairs made the room fall silent. Klahadore, ever the picture of formality, stood tall as he announced, "May I present... Miss Kaya."

All eyes turned upward as Kaya appeared, gracefully descending the stairs with Klahadore’s arm for support. She was dressed in a delicate yellow gown adorned with subtle dots, her face glowing with a wide, genuine smile—one that made Y/N smile as well, though she wasn’t quite sure why. Maybe it was the warmth of the moment or the way Kaya's joy seemed to radiate outwards.

At the bottom of the stairs, Merry stepped forward to meet her. Offering his arm with a soft smile, he said, "Kaya, you look absolutely radiant."

Kaya's smile brightened as she took his arm with familiarity. "Merry, I’m so glad you could make it."

"This is a milestone I wouldn’t miss for the world," Merry replied warmly as they made their way down the last few steps. "Your parents would be so proud."

Kaya’s gaze softened at the mention of her parents, but her expression didn’t falter. She turned toward Nami, who stood somewhat awkwardly nearby. "Nami, I love that dress on you."

"Thanks," Nami responded, though her tone was a bit stiffer than usual.

Kaya gently touched the fabric of the dress, her voice soft with nostalgia."It belonged to my mother. It was one of her favourites."

Nami's eyes widened, clearly caught off guard by the sentiment. She started to stumble over an apology, "Oh, I’m sorry. I —"

Kaya interrupted with a kind smile, shaking her head. "Not at all. I’m sure she would agree it suits you splendidly."

Y/N stepped in at that moment, smoothly saving Nami from the awkward tension. With a bright smile, she looked at Kaya. "That she does! And as for you, Kaya—you look absolutely wonderful. Like you just stepped out of a fairytale."

Kaya’s cheeks flushed lightly at the compliment, and she gave a shy smile. "Thank you, Y/N. You’re too kind."

"Nonsense," Y/N waved her hand, "just calling it like I see it. A beautiful dress for a beautiful girl and a beautiful evening, wouldn’t you agree?"

Kaya’s smile softened, clearly touched by Y/N's warmth, as Merry turned to tell Kaya something about the transfer of ownership of the shipyard. Meanwhile, Nami shot Y/N a grateful look, while Y/N simply gave a little playful shrug, as if to say, What can I say? It’s a gift.

"Merry, dear friend, it's always business with you," Klahadore cut in, his voice smooth but firm. Merry nodded, somewhat reluctantly, as if he'd been caught in the middle of a moment. Klahadore’s arm swept elegantly toward the dining room. "Tonight is about celebration. Shall we all move to the dining room?"

"Yes!" Luffy’s voice boomed across the room, his face lighting up with pure excitement. "Oh! Oh, I’m so ready for this!"

Y/N chuckled under her breath at Luffy’s enthusiasm, glancing sideways at Nami. "You’d think he’s never had a meal before."

As the group began to file into the elegantly decorated dining room, Y/N couldn't help but admire the lavish setup. The long table was adorned with pristine white linens and flickering candles, casting a warm glow over the room.

Soon, they were indulging in the delicious spread laid out before them. The table was a feast for the eyes, adorned with an array of vibrant dishes that seemed to dance with colour. Y/N couldn't help but let out a satisfied sigh as she took her first bite of a creamy pasta dish, the flavours bursting on her palate.

"I’d love to try the fish tonight," Kaya said, glancing at Sham, the maid, who was holding a platter of food.

But before she could reach for it, Klahadore interjected, "I’m sorry, Miss Kaya, but that is not possible."

Kaya’s smile faltered, and Y/N couldn’t help but frown at the butler’s sharp tone as she took a slow sip of her wine, her eyes narrowing slightly.

"Maybe just a small piece?" Kaya asked, her voice tinged with hope.

The butler remained unyielding, unlike earlier in the day. "Now, you know that certain foods can affect your constitution," he replied, gesturing for the plump butler to step forward. "Here, Buchi has prepared your special soup."

Kaya’s face fell, despite her attempts to hide her disappointment as the bland soup was placed in front of her.

"Kaya, it’s your birthday," Nami chimed in with a hint of irritation. "You should be able to enjoy whatever you like."

"Miss Kaya’s medical condition necessitates that I closely monitor her dietary needs," Klahadore responded curtly, addressing Nami as if she were overstepping.

Y/N’s brow furrowed as she leaned back in her chair, wine glass poised. Her tone was laced with mild sarcasm. "Ah, I see. So you manage her plate… and her voice now, too?"

Luffy, blissfully unaware of the awkwardness building at the table, raised his hand enthusiastically. "I’ll take her fish!"

"Luffy…" Y/N mumbled under her breath, shaking her head softly as if to reign in his bluntness.

Usopp, sensing the awkwardness, piped up nervously while shooting a wary glance at Klahadore. "Luffy, isn’t there something that you wanted to talk to Kaya about?"

"Oh, yes!" Luffy’s face lit up as he turned back to Kaya. "Usopp told me you own the whole shipyard!"

Kaya smiled warmly, correcting him gently. "Well, actually, my parents founded the shipyard. Merry’s been running the business since… well, since they passed," She gestured towards Merry, who lifted his glass in quiet acknowledgement.

"But all of that is about to change," Kaya added, her eyes flicking to Usopp with a soft, meaningful glance. "Tonight, at midnight, I’ll officially become the sole owner."

"Ah. Well, that’s great, because we want to buy a ship from you," Luffy announced, his grin wide and infectious.

Kaya raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. "I see," she replied, her smile growing. "Usopp mentioned that you’re sailors."

"Nope, not sailors," Luffy corrected quickly, his grin widening. And before Y/N could stop him, he dropped the bombshell. "We’re pirates."

The room seemed to freeze. The air became thick with tension as Usopp nearly choked on his drink, sputtering. Every guest at the table turned to look at Luffy in stunned silence—none more exasperated than Nami, who shot him a look that screamed, Seriously?

Y/N let out a long, resigned sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose. "This is going to be a disaster," she muttered, feeling the weight of impending chaos.

Zoro, unfazed, took a slow sip from his cup and muttered under his breath, "This ought to be good."

"Pirates?" Kaya echoed, her eyes wide with a mix of disbelief and intrigue.

"Yep!" Luffy replied with unrestrained enthusiasm, oblivious to the looks of Nami, Y/N, and Zoro. "We haven’t sailed together for long, but we’ve already defeated an evil clown, raided a Marine base, and taken down a captain with an axe for a hand."

Kaya’s smile widened as she turned to Usopp. "These sound a lot like your adventures, Usopp."

"Yeah, that’s…" Usopp chuckled nervously, stealing a glance at Luffy. "That’s crazy."

"Oh yeah. And we’re just getting started!" Luffy declared, suddenly seizing his wine glass. In an impulsive burst of enthusiasm, he hopped up onto the dining table, eliciting gasps of shock from the guests.

Klahadore’s face darkened with disapproval as he bristled at Luffy’s antics. "What on earth are you doing? Get down from there at once!"

But Luffy, undeterred and brimming with enthusiasm, continued to hold his glass high. "Being a pirate has been my dream for as long as I can remember, and now I’m finally making it a reality!" He stepped closer to Kaya, completely ignoring the bewildered looks from the guests. "We’re heading out to the Grand Line, where even more adventures await us. And at the end of the journey, I’m gonna find the ultimate treasure, the One Piece, and become King of the Pirates!" With a triumphant grin, he took a hearty sip of his wine, completely unfazed by the chaos he was stirring.

He stepped closer to Kaya, completely ignoring the bewildered looks from the rest. "We’re heading out to the Grand Line, where even more adventures await us. And at the end of the journey, I’m gonna find the ultimate treasure, the One Piece, and become King of the Pirates!" With a triumphant grin, he took a hearty sip of his wine, completely unfazed by the chaos he was stirring.

Y/N couldn’t help but chuckle softly, shaking her head as she watched Luffy’s unyielding spirit shine through. "Well, at least he’s got ambition,"

Kaya gazed up at Luffy, wide-eyed. "You're serious?"

Luffy slammed back the remainder of his wine, then held out the empty glass to Klahadore, who sneered but reluctantly took it. Leaning closer to Kaya, Luffy gripped her shoulders with earnest enthusiasm. "Kaya, you have a beautiful ship out there—a caravel with a sheep figurehead. It spoke to me." Zoro and Nami exchanged exasperated glances, while Y/N couldn't help but stifle a laugh at the sheer audacity of it all.

"That’s the ship we need to follow our dreams," Luffy continued, his eyes shining with determination. "I promise you, we’ll take care of it. We’ll maintain it and treat it like any other member of our crew, because a ship is also a home."

"That will be quite enough!" Klahadore snapped, stepping in beside Kaya with an air of authority. "I should’ve known Usopp would bring riffraff to our doorstep."

"Klahadore, it’s okay. I..." Kaya began, trying to defuse the tension, but a sudden coughing fit interrupted her.

"Now look what you’ve done. You’ve upset Miss Kaya!" Klahadore accused, his irritation palpable. "All of you, out of this house at once!"

Kaya, ever the kind-hearted soul, shook her head weakly, managing to breathe out, "No. It’s late. Let them stay the night."

"As you wish, Miss Kaya," Klahadore relented, though his tone was less than pleased. He assisted her out of the chair and led her from the room, adding, "But they are out first thing in the morning."

"That went pretty well," Luffy remarked as the door clicked shut behind Klahadore, leaving the five of them in the cosy dimness of the room. "Don’t you think?"

Y/N hums before gulping down the rest of her wine. "sure"

Hours later, Y/N lay wide awake, her bladder full and demanding release. She couldn’t help but scoff at the absurdity of it all—a mansion this grand and yet no loo in her room?

Finally deciding to venture out, she crept down the hallway, but instead of finding a bathroom, she stumbled upon a certain orange-haired girl in a curious sight: Nami was stuffing shiny treasures into a pillowcase.

"What are you, the reverse Father Christmas?" Y/N quipped, leaning against the doorframe with a playful smirk.

Nami, startled by the sudden voice, whipped her head around, eyes wide. "Shit, Y/N! You scared me! What are you doing up?"

Y/N shrugged, crossing her arms casually. "You know, just on a midnight quest for a loo. But clearly, I found something far more interesting."

Nami huffed, returning to her task with quick hands. "I’m just borrowing. Besides, they’re not going to notice a few missing trinkets."

"Oh, so you’re playing the long game, huh? Borrow now, return... never?" Y/N raised an eyebrow, amusement dancing in her eyes. "If you get caught, I’m not covering for you."

Nami shrugged, a cheeky grin spreading across her face as she continued to stuff the shiny trinkets into her pillowcase. "Who says I’ll get caught? I'm a master of stealth."

"Right, because sneaking around in the middle of the night with a pillowcase full of stolen goods is such a subtle move," Y/N teased, closing her door and following Nami.

Nami paused for a moment, glancing around to ensure they were still alone. "These are just sitting here collecting dust. No one will miss them."

Y/N chuckled, shaking her head in mock disbelief. "You do realize you’re robbing from a girl who just wanted to celebrate her birthday, right?"

"Details, details," Nami waved dismissively, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "Besides, it’s not like I’m taking anything valuable… yet."

Y/N smirked, her curiosity piqued. "Okay, but you--"

They suddenly heard footsteps approaching, echoing through the vast halls of the house.

Nami’s eyes widened in panic as she quickly shut the cabinet door "Crap!"

“Quick, come on!” Y/N urged, pulling Nami toward the nearest door. She flung it open and they slipped inside a dark room.

Just as they were about to catch their breath and survey their surroundings, Kaya’s voice startled them.

“Y/N?… Nami?” The lights flicked on, illuminating the room.

Both girls gasped in surprise, and Nami hurriedly concealed the pillowcase behind her back.

“What are you two doing? Is everything okay?” Kaya asked, still unaware of their antics.

"Oh, Kaya!" Y/N exclaimed, feigning a chuckle. "Sorry to disturb your beauty sleep! This house is like a maze, and I couldn't find the loo. So naturally, I enlisted Nami's expert navigating skills, right, Nami?"

"Yeah, we just got a bit turned around," Nami added, trying to sound casual.

Kaya’s gaze drifted behind Nami, landing on the clearly bulging pillowcase. She raised an eyebrow, puzzled. "With a pillowcase?"

Feeling her cheeks heat up, Y/N pursed her lips in embarrassment.

"So… you really are pirates after all," Kaya said, rising from her bed. Her demeanour was calm, not angry or frightened.

"No," Y/N quickly denied.

"I hate pirates," Nami chimed in, her tone dripping with disdain. "But I am who I am," She declared, setting the pillowcase down defiantly. "And I won’t apologize for it."

Y/N pursed her lips and sighed, taking a seat on the window sofa. "Can’t put it much better than that."

Kaya let out a light chuckle as she settled beside Y/N. "To be honest, I find some of the decor to be a bit gaudy. I’d prefer to donate it to charity."

Nami bristled at that. "We’re not charity."

/N waved her hand dismissively. "Relax, Pumpkin. I’m sure she didn’t mean it that way, right?"

Kaya quickly shook her head. "No, of course not. I just think, what’s the point of having so much if you can’t share it with others? Like those in need—family... friends."

"So we’re friends now?" Nami asked, raising an eyebrow.

Y/N scoffed and rolled her eyes. "Of course we are."

Nami turned to Y/N, motioning toward Kaya. "But she doesn't even know me!"

Kaya shrugs thoughtfully. "Usopp and Y/N do, and that’s a start.

Nami frowned slightly, but Y/N patted the space beside her with a playful grin. "Come on, Pumpkin, let's bond."

Nami rolled her eyes at Y/N's antics but eventually settled down next to her. "So what do we do now? Have a sleepover? Do each other’s makeup?"

Y/N smirked, leaning closer. "Only if you promise to let me go wild with the glitter. We can start with—" Y/N began, but was interrupted by Kaya's coughing.

"Kaya, are you okay?" Nami asked, concern etching her features.

Y/N placed a hand on Kaya's back. "Should I get you some water or something?"

Kaya stopped coughing and looked at the girls, shaking her head. "Not you too."

"What?" Y/N frowned in confusion, sharing a puzzled glance with Nami.

Kaya sighed. "Everyone’s so careful around me. Like one wrong move and I’ll break." She looked between the girls. "I don’t want your pity."

"Well, you won’t get it then," Nami said, with a small grin.

"No pity here, just friendship," Y/N shrugged, a teasing smile creeping onto her face. "And as friends, you ought to tell us what is going on between you and Usoppppp."

"Is he your boyfriend?" Nami grins.

"Oh. Um…" Kaya chuckled, glancing between the girls. "Usopp and I? No, no. We’ve known each other for years. Ever since his mother passed away, he didn’t have anyone, so my parents gave him a job at the shipyard." Her smile grew a little wider as she continued, a faint blush creeping onto her cheeks. "He likes to come around and tell me all about his brave exploits and grand adventures. And the truth is, they make me feel better."

Y/N leaned in, a teasing grin on her face. "So, it’s like Usopp is your personal bard, spinning tales to lift your spirits? I can see how that’d be comforting."

Kaya chuckles, "After my parents... he was able to make me smile again."

"Your parents, what happened to them?" Nami asked, her voice softening.

Kaya’s eyes instantly glistened with unshed tears, and Y/N could see this was a sensitive subject. "They, um… They died at sea. After all these years, it still takes my breath away. I couldn’t even go through their belongings. Just… locked up the memories in the East Wing, where their bedroom was."

"I’m so sorry," Nami said softly, echoing Y/N's thoughts. She understood the weight of loss, grief, and the pain that lingered.

"Have you ever lost anyone close to you?" Kaya inquired, her gaze searching.

"No," Nami replied, her voice steady but filled with empathy.

Y/N paused for a moment, her heart heavy. "Yes," she said softly.

Y/N and Kaya shared a look of understanding, a silent acknowledgement of their shared pain. The bond of loss wove them closer together in that quiet moment, as they realized they were not alone in their experiences.

Kaya, after a moment of quiet, turned to Nami with a small smile. "Well, I’m jealous of you, Nami."

Nami scoffed, her eyebrow raised. "Said the rich girl."

Kaya chuckled at the response, shaking her head before looking directly at her. "You’re not very good at this friends thing, are you?"

Y/N grinned at the exchange, nudging Nami playfully. "She’s a tough nut to crack, but trust me, she’s definitely worth it."

The three of them shared a laugh, the tension lifting as they bonded in their own quirky way.

Kaya let out a soft yawn, clearly indicating how late it had gotten. Y/N smirked, her eyes glinting with playful amusement. "Need your beauty sleep, princess?"

Kaya chuckled lightly, shaking her head. "I suppose I do," she admitted, rubbing her eyes. "Though I’m not sure how much help it’ll be."

"Trust me," Y/N grinned, "you're already glowing."

Nami rolled her eyes, but even she smiled a little at Y/N’s cheeky comment. "We should get going though,"

Y/N stood up, stretching a bit before nodding. "That we should. I still need a loo."

Kaya chuckled, pointing down the hall. "Down the hall on the left."

As she made her way to her bed, Kaya added, "Why don’t you two join me for breakfast tomorrow? Your friends too. We can discuss a deal for the caravel."

"Yeah, that’ll be great." Y/N smiled, starting to walk away, but she paused when Nami spoke again.

"This may not be my place," Nami said, glancing back at Kaya, "but don’t let Klahadore or anyone run your life. You’re stronger than you think."

Kaya smiled softly at the sentiment. "I appreciate that."

"Good night, Nami, Y/N," she called out as she settled under her blankets.

"Good night," Nami replied with a small smile.

"Night, Kaya," Y/N added with a wink.

As they reached the door, Kaya called after them with a grin, "Don’t forget your pillow."

Nami took the pillowcase as she, Kaya and Y/N chuckled softly. Once they were outside the room, Nami halted and pulled something out of the pillowcase—a small box of some sort—and placed it on a nearby table. Y/N grinned at her, clearly amused.

Nami noticed the grin and rolled her eyes. "What?" she asked, her tone exasperated.

Y/N shrugged, still smiling. “Funny how a little girl talk can literally change people.”

“Shut up,” Nami muttered, giving Y/N a playful push. “Besides, Kaya’s just an exception.”

Y/N laughed, her teasing grin only growing wider. "Sure, pumpkin, whatever you say. How about you and I go for a midnight snack?"

"I could eat," Nami shrugs aimlessly.

"Right, you go find the kitchen while I find the loo because I'm about to explode," Y/N told the girls she was already on her way to the bathroom.

Nami shook her head with a smirk. “Alright, see you in the kitchen—if I don’t get lost first.”

"Shut up,"

After using the fancy loo, Y/N strolled into the kitchen, her usual playful grin in place. "Can you believe they have hyacinth-scented soap here? I mean, if you're going to steal something, might as well go for—"

Her words came to an abrupt halt when she noticed it wasn’t Nami in the kitchen. No, standing there were the butlers—Klahadore, Buchi, and the maid, Sham. And on the table, laid out unconscious, was Luffy.

Y/N's heart skipped a beat as she took in the scene. Klahadore turned slowly toward her, his expression cold and calculating.

“Well, it seems we have an unexpected guest,” Klahadore said with a chilling smile, the air growing tense.

"Shit," Y/N muttered under her breath, instinctively taking a step back. Her heart raced as she quickly realized she had walked straight into something dangerous. It didn’t take a genius to know the butlers were up to no good.

"Now, now," Klahadore cooed, "there’s no need to make a fuss."

"Too late for that," Y/N shot him a defiant look before bolting for the door.

However, Y/N didn’t make it far. Just as she turned to run, Klahadore seemed to teleport, appearing in front of her in an instant.

She gasped, heart pounding as she spun back around, desperate to escape. But before she could even take a step, a sharp blow struck the side of her head. Pain exploded behind her eyes, and everything went dark as her body crumpled to the floor.

The next time Y/N opened her eyes, the first thing she saw wasn’t Zoro’s concerned face but the dark, starry sky above. The cool night air hit her skin, and the faint sound of crickets chirping filled the quiet. She blinked, disoriented, before realizing she was lying on the cold, hard ground outside, near an old stone well.

"Oi, wake up," Zoro’s familiar gruff voice cut through the haze, accompanied by another tap, harder this time.

Y/N blinked and squinted, barely making out his face against the moonlit sky. “Zoro?” she muttered, trying to sit up.

“Yeah, it’s me. You good, or you need another nap?” he asked, crossing his arms, his expression unbothered but with a hint of concern in his eyes.

Y/N groaned as she sat up, feeling the cold stone of the well against her back. “Where are we?”

“Outside. Near the well behind the mansion. I found you knocked out cold.”

“Gee, thanks for stating the obvious,” she muttered, rubbing her temple. “What the hell happened?”

Zoro knelt down beside her, his tone growing more serious. “Klahadore isn’t just some butler. He’s Kuro—Captain Kuro of the Black Cat Pirates. That bastard’s been hiding out here, playing the good servant. That psycho’s got some plan involving Kaya-"

Y/N's heart raced as she shot up to her feet, ignoring the dizziness that washed over her. "Luffy—he was passed out! And Nami—she was supposed to be in the kitchen. They’re in there with those psychos. We have to go back!"

Zoro’s expression darkened as he drew one of his swords, the steely glint catching the moonlight. "Then let's go. No time to waste."

Despite the pounding in her head, Y/N steadied herself, determination fueling her. She nodded, and the two of them sprinted toward the mansion. The eerie quiet of the night only heightened the sense of urgency, their footsteps echoing against the cobblestone path.

As they neared the mansion, Y/N and Zoro began to hear voices, the two exchanged a glance as they crept closer, the voices becoming unmistakably clearer.

"Father always said, 'Dead pirate weighs the same as a live one,'" came the cocky, irritating voice that Y/N instantly recognized. Helmeppo.

"Garp gave us strict orders," a softer, more hesitant voice responded, trying to reason with him.

"He gave you strict orders," Helmeppo sneered as Y/N and Zoro finally reached the scene. Helmeppo stood there, holding a gun to Luffy, "Start walking, pirate, or die."

Zoro wasted no time. He was a blur of movement, taking out the two marines flanking Helmeppo with effortless precision. They hit the ground before they could even register what had happened.

As groans filled the air, Helmeppo and the kind boy Kobi she had met before turned to face Y/N and Zoro. The smug look on Helmeppo's face faded quickly when he saw them approach.

Y/N crossed her arms, a dangerous smirk tugging at her lips. "Gotta say, you picked the wrong night to be an idiot, Helmeppo. But then again, that's just who you are."

"Zoro! Y/N!" Luffy called out excitedly, as though he hadn’t been held at gunpoint just seconds earlier.

Zoro strode forward with his usual calm, while Y/N rushed to Luffy's side, giving Helmeppo a quick but satisfying punch that knocked him out cold.

"How’d you two know where to find me?" Luffy asked, a huge grin on his face.

"We didn’t, stud," Y/N replied, helping him up. "We thought we were headed to the house." Her nose scrunched up as she noticed the blue barf near Luffy and and instinctively wiped some goo from his face with her sleeve, wrinkling her nose in disgust. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine now," Luffy smiled, his usual carefree attitude shining through as he began to make his way back to the house. "Come on!"

Y/N and Zoro exchanged a glance before following Luffy, but their steps were halted by Koby.

"Hold it right there!" he called, his voice firm. "By order of the Marines, I’m placing you under arrest."

"Koby…" Luffy took a step forward, a small grin creeping onto his face, but it quickly transformed into a more serious demeanor. "I know you’ve got a job to do… but I’m gonna go back and help my friends. So don’t try to stop me."

Koby hesitated, uncertainty flickering across his face as he looked at Luffy. It was clear he was torn between duty and friendship but he remained rooted to the spot, conflicted, as the three of them dashed into the shadows of the mansion, hearts racing and adrenaline pumping. They needed to save their friends, and nothing was going to stop them now.

When the trio reached the house, they quickly noticed the heavy metal covering the door, effectively barricading them from entering. Y/N felt a surge of frustration, but before she could voice it, Zoro stepped forward with a determined look in his eyes.

“Step aside,” he said. Zoro squared his stance, gripping the edge of the metal barrier. With a powerful grunt, he heaved against it with all his might.

To her astonishment, the metal slid upwards with a loud screech, revealing the entrance. Without hesitating, she quickly shoved a nearby statue beneath the opening to keep it in place and with a swift kick, she propelled the wooden door open, and it swung inward with a thud, revealing the interior of the mansion.

Luffy stepped inside, followed closely by Y/N and Zoro. The three of them paused in the foyer, taking in the surroundings. The air was thick with tension, shadows stretching across the walls as the faint light flickered from the ornate chandelier above.

“I need to grab my fans from my room,” Y/N said, her voice steady despite the tension in the air.

Luffy nodded, his determination unwavering. “Let’s split up.”

Zoro and Y/N exchanged glances before also nodding in agreement. Without wasting another moment, the trio took off in different directions. Luffy headed upstairs, while Zoro moved toward the kitchens, every step echoing with purpose. Y/N made her way to the guest wing, her heart racing as she recalled the location of her weapons.

As she dashed down the corridor, the silence of the mansion felt oppressive, every creak of the floorboards amplifying her anxiety. She finally reached her room and pushed the door open, relief flooding through her as she spotted her fans resting on the dresser.

“Got you!” she whispered to herself, snatching them up and flipping them open, the familiar weight comforting in her hands. With her weapons secured, she turned to leave, but a noise from the hallway caught her attention.

Holding her breath, Y/N peered out into the corridor, her war fans gripped tightly in her hands, poised defensively. The dim hallway stretched before her,

Holding her breath, Y/N peered out into the corridor, her war fans gripped tightly in her hands, poised defensively. The dim hallway stretched before her, shadows danced along the walls.

She scanned the area, her senses heightened, every creak echoing ominously in her ears. The silence felt almost tangible, pressing against her as she waited for any sign of movement. Just as she was about to step out, a creak from behind made her whip around.

Standing there was Bushi, the plump butler from earlier, draped in an absurd cat-like costume complete with a cape. His beady eyes gleamed in the low light, and a smirk spread across his face, giving him an almost sinister air.

"Of all designs, that's the one you chose?" Y/N scoffed, laughter bubbling up despite the tension.

Bushi smirked, revealing sharp canine-like teeth as he brandished two blades from behind his back. "It comes with perks,"

Y/N raised an eyebrow, a playful grin still on her face, but her stance was ready. “Perks, huh? I guess you must feel pretty fancy in that ugly getup." With a swift motion, she opened her war fan, the edges glinting ominously. “Shift it, mongrel.”

The butler lunged forward, and Y/N expertly sidestepped, feeling the rush of air as his blade sliced through the space she had just occupied. In one fluid motion, she spun around, bringing her war fan down with precision aimed at his wrist.

Bushi barely raised his other blade in time, the metallic clash ringing out as sparks flew from the impact. He grinned, lunging again, but Y/N ducked low, her fan cutting through the air as she aimed for his legs.

He jumped back, narrowly escaping. With a swift kick, Y/N drove him against the wall, the force of her strike causing him to grunt.

“You’ll pay for that!” he snarled, lunging at her with renewed ferocity. Y/N raised her fan just in time to block the incoming strike, their blades clashing once more.

Using the momentum, she pushed off his blade and leaped into the air, executing a graceful flip. As she landed, she swung the fan down toward him like a blade.

Bushi rolled out of the way, regaining his balance as Y/N charged again. He swung at her, but she ducked and sidestepped, moving with agility. She slashed at him, the fan cutting through the air, forcing him to backpedal.

As they danced around each other, the sound of metal on metal echoed through the hallway, tension thickening the air. Y/N felt the adrenaline surge, her instincts kicking in as she prepared for the next move.

Bushi lunged, but she pivoted, dodging and countering with a swift strike aimed at his midsection. He barely blocked it, gritting his teeth as they continued to clash, each movement fluid and aggressive.

Finally, Y/N saw an opening. With a quick flick of her wrist, she sent her fan spiraling toward his face, momentarily stunning him. In that split second, she charged forward, delivering a powerful kick that sent him crashing to the ground.

As Y/N caught her breath, she glanced around the dimly lit hallway, scanning for any additional threats. But before she could take a step, Bushi sprang back to his feet, eyes narrowed with determination.

“Not done yet!” he growled.

The butler lunged again, and Y/N met his charge with a swift deflection of her fan. The two danced around the narrow space of the staircase, trading blows as they fought against the railing.

Bushi swung his blades, forcing Y/N to duck and weave, her instincts sharp. She retaliated with a swift jab of her fan, catching him in the side. He stumbled, growling in frustration, but quickly regained his footing, the glint of his sharp canines reflecting the dim light.

Y/N could feel the adrenaline coursing through her veins as she adjusted her stance, her fan poised for the next move. Bushi lunged again, blades slicing through the air, and she narrowly avoided the attack by pivoting to the side, the tips of his weapons barely grazing her. The narrowness of the staircase forced them into a tight rhythm, each movement calculated and precise.

Bushi spun low, attempting a sweeping strike at her legs. Y/N leapt back, her heart pounding, and then retaliated with a powerful jab of her fan into his shoulder. The impact sent him reeling against the railing, his balance faltering for just a moment.

Seizing the opportunity, Y/N launched forward, her movements fluid and fierce. With a well-aimed kick to his midsection, she sent him crashing through the railing. The sound of splintering wood echoed in the hallway as he plummeted down into the foyer below.

Y/N glanced down at the foyer, her eyes locking with Zoro, who had just dispatched the maid, Sham.

"Impressive finishing move," Zoro remarked, sheathing his swords with a casual air.

Y/N grinned, tilting her head in playful acknowledgment."What can I say? It’s hard not to show off when I’m surrounded by such unimpressive company. Now, let’s find something to restrain them with—preferably something more effective than their fashion choices."

Sooner rather than later, to Y/N's relief, Kaya, Nami, Usopp, and Luffy emerged from the upper levels, sporting only a few scratches but no serious injuries.

"Oh, thank the stars," Y/N exclaimed, her heart settling at the sight of them. "Looks like you all survived the thrilling experience of fighting off shit butlers and overly dramatic maids."

Zoro swung open the main door, allowing the bright morning light to flood into the dim foyer.

Nami rolled her eyes but there was a shinning in her eyes of relief and amusment. "You missed all the fun, Y/N."

"Fun?" Y/N raised an eyebrow, a teasing smirk on her lips. "You mean the kind of fun that comes with questionable service choices and bad manners?"

Both girls exchanged grins, a shared understanding passing between them.

“I’m sorry about the mess,” Zoro remarked to Kaya, his tone devoid of any regret. “You probably need some new staff.”

“I think I’m done with staff for a bit,” Kaya replied, her gaze lingering on her former cook and maid, now tied on the floor.

“Too bad we can’t collect their bounty,” Zoro sighed, arms crossed.

Nami jumped in, her frustration bubbling over. “No. No. The Marines already know where we are. We have to get out of here.”

Y/N pursed her lips, glancing around the room. “We don't have nowhere to go,"

"Nor a ship," Luffy added.

"Yes, you do." Kaya said, catching them all off guard.

The atmosphere shifted as the realization sank in, and grins spread across their faces. They knew she was about to gift them the very ship they had set out for—the one that had led them into this chaotic mess.

Y/N smirked at Luffy, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Congratulations, stud. Looks like you won the bet."

Luffy returned her smirk, his playful spirit shining through, before glancing at Nami, who rolled her eyes.

After everything that had transpired, the six of them stood before the ship, its elegant lamb bow glimmering in the sunlight.

"Wow," Luffy exclaimed, his eyes wide with awe. "That looks just like your lawyer friend."

Kaya smiled softly, nostalgia washing over her. "Merry ran the shipyard after my parents passed. He was their dearest colleague and my oldest companion."

"Then his memory will live on, "Luffy declared, "I hereby name this ship the Going Merry!"

Kaya smiled warmly, her eyes shining with pride. “It’s yours now. Your new home.”

“Thank you, Kaya,” Luffy replied, his voice full of genuine gratitude. Then, with a burst of energy, he thrust his fist into the air. “Whoo! Yeah! We did it!”

Without warning, Luffy leaped at Y/N, Nami, and Zoro, pulling them into a bone-crushing hug.

Y/N laughed, feeling the warmth of Luffy’s infectious happiness wash over her. “That we did!”

As they broke apart, no matter how hard she tried not to, Y/N couldn’t help but feel that this was only the beginning of something truly extraordinary or horrifying.

"Usopp!" Luffy suddenly called, causing everyone to turn their heads toward the boy.

Luffy approached him with that signature grin. "What are you waiting for? Get your stuff."

"What stuff?" Usopp asked, clearly confused.

"You’re coming with us. Right?" Luffy said with a grin that suggested he already knew the answer.

"What?" Usopp stammered. "Uh… uh… No. I… I couldn’t."

"Don't make him beg, champ," Y/N teased with a playful wink.

“I’m gonna need a great sharpshooter,” Luffy added, leaning in confidently. “Just like Yasopp. And I saw what you did back there--sticking up for your friends. That’s exactly the kind of guy I need on my crew.”

Usopp hesitated, his gaze flicking to Kaya. "But… I couldn’t leave Syrup Village. What… what about Kaya?" His voice wavered as he looked at her. "She needs me to take care of her."

Kaya stepped forward, her expression gentle. "Usopp, you’ve been a great friend," she said, taking his hand. "But I think it’s time I start taking care of myself."

"But I said I’d never leave you," Usopp protested, his frown deepening. "And don’t you need help with the shipyard?"

Nami, Y/N, and Zoro quietly made their way to stand beside Luffy, content to watch the moment unfold between Usopp and Kaya.

"The shipyard was my parents’ dream," Kaya said softly, her eyes warm as they met Usopp's. "I think I might do something different. Like study to become a doctor."

"So… I guess this is goodbye," Usopp said slowly, his voice tinged with sadness.

Kaya squeezed his hands, offering him a soft, encouraging smile. "I’ll see you again someday. And when I do, I expect to hear all about the real adventures of Captain Usopp."

Much to Usopp's surprise—and to no one else's—Kaya leaned in and kissed him. It was a tender moment, prompting the spectators to avert their eyes… except for Luffy, who frowned in confusion.

"They… they do know I’m the captain, right?"

Nami patted Luffy on the shoulder. "Let them have this one,"

Y/N grinned, nudging Luffy playfully. "Besides, you’ll get your moment, stud. Maybe with less kissing though, but who knows." she winks at him.

And just like that, they were out at sea again—this time, however, with a new friend and a real ship beneath their feet. The Going Merry cut through the waves with ease, her elegant lamb figurehead gleaming in the sunlight.

And then, they were out on the open sea again, this time with a new crewmate and a real ship beneath their feet. The Going Merry glided effortlessly over the waves, its lamb figurehead leading the way toward new adventures.

Y/N leaned against the railing, gazing out at the endless blue ocean. The sun warmed her skin while the salty breeze danced through her white hair, tousling it playfully. She closed her eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath, letting the serenity of the sea wash over her, giving her a sense of freedom she hadn’t felt in a long time.

A sudden shout nearly made Y/N jump out of her skin, snapping her attention to the bow of the ship. She couldn’t help but snicker as she spotted Luffy, perched at the top of the lamb’s head, waving his straw hat with pure joy. His wide grin was infectious, and the sight of him celebrating like a carefree kid brought a warmth to her chest.

He was so ridiculously happy, as if he’d just discovered the greatest treasure in the world, and for a second, Y/N envied his simplicity—his ability to find joy in the smallest things, no matter the chaos surrounding them.

Looking back at the ocean, a quiet hope took root inside her. This might actually work. The thought of reuniting with her sister felt closer than ever, and the mere possibility made her smile.

A lively melody echoed around the ship's gallery, and Y/N ran her fingers over the guitar strings, crafting an upbeat tune that danced with the rhythm of the waves.

In Syrup Village, where dreams took flight, Lived young Kaya, shining so bright. But Kuro the Cat, with a sinister crew, Plotted to take her, oh, what would they do?

Then we arrived, with laughter and cheer, “Don’t worry, dear Kaya! Your heroes are here!--”

"We did not arrive with laughter and cheer," Nami scoffs from beside Y/N, interrupting the ballad.

Y/N rolls her eyes, a playful grin on her face. "Shush, it rhymes! Besides, artistic license!"

Nami crossed her arms. "More like a disaster in the making."

"Focus on the song, not the flaws," Zoro mutters from her other side, his voice low yet steady.

Y/N scoffs at him, "Excuse me, but my ballad doesn't have any flaws."

Luffy, grinned wide as he ate some fruit. "I like it! Keep going!"

With a theatrical sigh, Y/N continued, her fingers dancing over the guitar strings.

“Thank you, brave souls!” Kaya smiled wide, “I’ve got a surprise—come take a ride!” With joy in her heart, she gave them the key, To the Going Merry, as grand as could be!

"And that’s the end of my masterpiece," Y/N said with a playful shrug, her grin wide.

Nami shook her head, unable to suppress her smile. "You're utterly ridiculous, you know that?"

“Ridiculously talented, you mean!” Luffy exclaimed, his enthusiasm infectious. He turned to Y/N, beaming. "Can you whip up one about each of us?"

"Only if the muse strikes me just right," Y/N replied.

“Guys! You’ve got to see this!” Usopp burst into the room, proudly draping a black mantle over his shoulders. “Behold my unparalleled artistic genius!” He positioned Luffy to hold the flag aloft. “Ta-da!” The flag showcased a cartoonish skull with exaggerated features reminiscent of Usopp himself.

Usopp chuckled at his creation, but the room fell into silence, the others unsure how to react.

“I know, I know,” he said, breaking the quiet. “My flair for design often leaves people speechless.”

Luffy, unfazed, closed the flag and handed it back to Usopp with a cheeky grin. "I already drew our flag."

"Okay, but this one is way cooler!" Usopp insisted, trying again.

Zoro interjected, his tone deadpan, "Neither of those flags are gonna scare anyone off."

"Well, the Jolly Roger is supposed to reflect the captain," Usopp argued, wrapping the flag around himself like a cape.

Luffy leaned in closer, a playful spark in his eyes. "I am the captain. We are the Straw Hat crew."

"They call me Captain Usopp!" Usopp declared dramatically.

"I’m the captain. Me, captain. Captain, me."

"The captain is the one who gets the ship and knows the most about sailing," Usopp countered, trying to hold his ground.

"I am…"

Their ridiculous bickering over who truly held the title of captain was so absurd that even Nami couldn’t help but chuckle. Y/N exchanged amused glances with her, and soon the whole crew was laughing along.

Luffy beamed as he patted Usopp on the back, his excitement radiating through the room. "You see? This is what it’s all about!" He leaned in closer, confidence oozing from him. "From now on, it’s all gonna be smooth sailing."

Just as his words hung in the air, a thunderous boom erupted from outside, causing everyone to exchange puzzled glances. Before they could react, another explosion shook the ship, this time sending a tremor beneath their feet.

"What was that?" Usopp asks as he holds into Luffy.

Y/N cursed under her breath, instinctively reaching for her weapons. "Cannonballs!

Nami set her drink down with a frustrated sigh, rising to her feet. "You had to open your mouth," she shot at Luffy, just as the sound of cannon fire rattled the ship again.

The crew scrambled outside, eyes widening as they took in the sight before them. A Marine ship just behind them, cannons poised and ready for another strike.

"Marines! We’re under attack!" Nami shouted, her voice laced with urgency as another cannonball soared perilously close.

Y/N felt a sense of dread wash over her, but what came next was entirely unexpected. Luffy, the boy who prided himself on being a pirate, who declared his dreams of becoming the King of the Pirates with fervor, said;

“Grandpa?”

A/N: I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Lots of love. Be safe.

Also, tell me if you want to get tagged.

Divider by @cafekitsune

[alchemicaladarna]

I'm hugging Sunny, Pomme, and Dapper tightly right now because man, they're just kids, they should just be kids, going on adventures or building projects with their parents without worrying that something bad is going to happen to their dads...

But something bad did happen. Something very, very bad. And now they're just kids but they're doing everything they can and travelling to the ends of the earth just to get them back. They're just kids, but they're doing everything they can to save the person they love the most, no matter the cost and no matter how harrowing the journey may be.

Dapper and Pomme literally went to the deep dark and defeated a fucking warden just for the mere chance that they'll acquire a compass that had little to no chances of bringing their father back. They risked their lives for a compass that didn't even work, and they'll risk their lives again and again just to bring their dad back.

And little Sunny is literally out there, in a small wooden boat, alone in the ocean somewhere- maybe looking for her dad's body? Trying to look for the purpose Creation said her pa needed? How do you even start, where would you even look for that??

It doesn't matter because they will get them back. They will return. They have to...right? All they have is hope and love and they're just kids. But if they don't try to save their parents, then who will?

[lunamadhatter99]

All for The Cameras

Chapter 3

Finnick Odair x Fem!reader

It's time. That's all I'm gonna say.

If you like it and want to be added to the tag list, comment here.

Have a good day, loves! ❤️

Chapter summary: the plan is in motion.

Chapter Warnings: prostitution, drug use (on the bad guy, but still),

Tag list.

@guacam011y

@justtrying2getby

@idontevenknow1359

@alexandra-001

@bambikitten

@maggiecc

@redh00dsbf

@haneybunny

@1-800-styles

@sisiking99

@merromimo

@yourdailymemedelivery

@regsg18

@gordorio

@bambikitten

@gracieeleanorr

@shev3nom

@honethatty12

@savingprivatecass

@erindiggory

@martahabla

It's been a month since the talk with Plutarch... and I still can't believe it.

The rebellion is actually happening, district 13 still exists!

These are the thoughts that keep my mind sane. Plutarch said we need to be careful, he might have a plan... but we need people we can trust.

Of course.

I try to think of some people that would gladly help and that can be also trusted while I walk into the building Cal lives in. Unfortunately the rebellion hasn't properly started and I still have "duty" to do.

I take a deep breath as I enter the elevator and close my eyes for a moment, enough time for another person to enter with me. And I already know who this is.

"Finnick," I nod my head greeting him and open my eyes as the doors close.

"Sweetheart," he sends me one of his charming smile and nods his head too.

The ride to the last floor is pretty long and slow, it gives time for a small, awkward silence to fall for a while before Finnick speaks up.

"I heard... you know." He says, hands behind his back casually.

"Everybody knows apparently..." I sigh.

"Yeah... people can't stop talking about it. The talk of the town."

"If he wanted it to be a surprise, well, oops" I roll my eyes.

"He's been..." he pauses for a moment, shakes his head and looks up with an angry smile.

"What?" I press, "more possessive? More obsessed?"

"Yeah, since you left for the Victory tour he..." he starts, but I cut him off immediately.

"No, he's been like this since that day," I say, I feel him looking at me, but I don't have the heart of looking back.

"Do.... do you think he heard it?" He hesitantly asks, lowering his voice too, "there's no way he could've heard..."

"He must've. That's the only explanation." I tell him, lowering my own voice. "You chose the worse time of all."

"Well, I'm sorry... okay? I... wasn't thinking," he apologies.

"Clearly." I take another deep breath before speaking again, "you know sometimes I try to come out with as many way of killing him I can. Each of them ends up with me getting caught, because unfortunately he is who he is... but it helps."

"How many did you get last time?" He asks, a hint of an amused smile on his face.

"I think... uh... 6," I say, "oh no, 7... almost forgot about the spoon one."

He actually laughs and it helps me too, knowing that in the end we're on the same boat.

"I think... 13 would've been better." He says, he kind of emphasises the number. That makes my head turn to him, him already looking at me with a serious expression.

Could it be..?

So I dare ask.

"Did you talk to Plutarch?"

I see him opening his mouth to answer, but before anything could come out of it, the elevator's doors open and we are greeted by Cal himself ready with two glasses of wine.

"Welcome back, my lovelies." He cheers and he hands us the drinks, "finally all together. C'mon, c'mon."

As we enter his huge apartment I try to look at Finnick to get that answer, he does look at me, but I can't understand.

"Alright, let's sit for a bit, uh?" Cal lead us to his living room, motioning to a huge wooden table... with only two seats...

Cal take a seat and looks at us, expecting.

"Uhm... should I go get another seat or..?" Finnick tries to take it lightly, but one thing is worse than having to spend the night with Cal Kingslay... not knowing what Cal Kingslay has in store.

"Oh no need, c'mon Finnick sit." Cal tells him and Finnick obeys, looking at me confused.

"And.. what about me?" I ask, also trying to play it cool.

"Oh before you sit," Cal stands up to come up to me, it takes everything in me not to take a step back... or even run, "I got a little gift for you. It's in the bedroom."

"Aw.. that's sweet, but you really shouldn't have." I say, hoping he doesn't feel the tremble in my voice.

"We have to make up for lost time, sweetheart. Now go, then come back here." He instructs.

"Sure..." I fake smile at him, steal a quick glance at a tense Finnick and head to the bedroom.

The bedroom, just as huge, hosts a big round bed, a small couch in front of it and nothing much else. I notice a package on the bed, I go to open and find... of course...

I scoff as I look at the deep red lingerie set he bought me. I put it on, constantly rolling my eyes, the only act of defiance I can afford, I wear the matching rope and head back to the living room.

"Oh look at her!" Cal exclaims as I near, "I knew that was your color. Isn't she a beauty, Finnick?"

"Yes." Is all Finnick says, his eyes fixed on me with a loving, yet sad, expression in them.

Cal suddenly grabs my hand and pull me to him, making me sit in his lap.

"Alright, now let's chat a little." He says as his hands caress my thighs and sides, whatever he could touch, "I really want to know what happened on this tour."

"Well... nothing much, really. Usual tour... with two victors, but the usual," I laugh it off, putting my hands on Cal's in a poor attempt of keeping them steadier.

I look at Finnick, who's even more tense than before, eyes locked on Cal's hands on me.

"So nothing happened?" Cal presses, grip getting tighter, " nothing? Not even with Peeta Mellark?"

I actually laugh at that.

"With Peeta?" I ask, "why?"

"At the party, at the President's residence, the way he touched you..." he holds me tighter.

"He just wanted to dance, Cal... he's so in love with Katniss, he doesn't look at anyone else." I try to chuckle to make him see how absurd his assumptions are.

"Then why not ask any other woman there?" He keeps holding me.

I look at Finnick, who's ready to jump into action, but at the same time knows he can't do anything.

"Because he's shy." I say, "he might seem like an outgoing guy, but he's really not. He asked me probably because I'm his friend. " I try to stress the word 'friend' to make him understand.

"Yeah, I got to talk to him for a few minutes when they were in 4, he didn't talk much, only awkwardly smiled and let out just a few words." Finnick lies, and thanks to that Cal lets go a little, going back at caressing my thighs. I look at Finnick grateful and he slightly nods.

"You have a talent in making people feel at ease with you, don't you?" Cal compliments and rest his chin on my shoulder, "I really missed you. Did you miss me too?"

"Oh, but of course," I fake another smile as he starts to kiss my neck.

His kisses get more heated as he goes, I look everywhere except Finnick, I can't stand it, not after last time.

"Mmh, fuck," he breaths out, "you smell so good, my sweetness, let's go to the bedroom, shall we, lovelies?"

Cal doesn't give me any time to stand up, he picks me up and, bridal style, he takes me to the bedroom, followed by Finnick.

Cal gently puts me on the bed, goes and sits down on the small couch.

"Take your clothes of, Finnick, leave your underwear on," he instructs, getting comfortable on the couch.

Finnick does as he was told, standing only in his underwear. He's surely been working out while I was gone...

"I want you on your knees in front of her," Cal orders him, "and you, my precious princess, spread those legs for him, okay?"

Finnick comes kneel in front of me, I spread my legs to let him in, avoiding his eyes, that, I know are on me.

"Oh that's good." Cal praises, "now, touch her."

I softly gasp at feeling Finnick's hand on my thigh.

"Not too much, Finnick, you know the rules. No kissing unless I say so."

Finnick only nods and keeps on caressing my tigh bringing it a little closer so his face lightly touches it.

"Look at him, sweetheart, look at him,"

This is how these meetings usually go: Cal tells us how he wants to see us, what he wants us to do, sometimes he just likes to watch and sometimes he like to "play" too.

I don't know if he's so delusional to think we too enjoy this or he just loves control so much that he doesn't care at all.

That's how the "date" went, all night.

Cal enjoying his power over us, he particularly enjoyed teasing Finnick.

"How does it feel like? Knowing she'll never be yours?" He would ask. "You wouldn't be able to touch her if it wasn't for me," "You'll never see her unless I say so." And so on...

"I'll see you soon, my loves," Cal says, leading us back to the elevator, his hand in mine.

"It's never going to be too soon," Finnick's charming smile seems to convince him.

"Never," I agree as we're standing in front of the elevator.

Cal spins me around and kisses me. I'm so stunned, I don't even reciprocate until he squeezes my waist.

"I could never get enough of that," Cal humms, letting me go.

"Feeling's mutual," I say turning around, grateful for the doors to open in that moment.

"Bye bye" he waves and we do the same, keeping up our fake smiles until the doors finally close.

"Oh fuck..." I let out a sigh of relief and unconsciously lean against Finnick's taller frame, who gently wraps an arm around me.

"Feeling's mutual," Finnick says, sighing too.

"Okay... uh... listen," I start, pulling away from his embrace, "we do need to find a way to talk. This ride might be long, but it's not enough..."

"I know... I might have an idea, but you'll have to trust me," he tells me confidently.

"What is it?" I ask.

"Trust me, alright?"

I sigh, but nod.

"Main things... uh... did you talk to Plutarch then?"

"That I did, asked for my company, I thought he was one of the usual stuff, but thankfully it wasn't." He tells me, "you?"

"Same thing, do you know anyone else... knowing?" I ask.

"There are lots of victors who might be involved, but I can't say for sure..." he speaks quietly, "maybe Johanna..."

"Definitely believable," I comment, "you know, I think Haymitch too.. both him and Plutarch said the same exact thing to me and... it just makes sense."

"What about the lovebirds?" He says making quotations with his fingers as he says 'lovebirds'.

"I don't think so..." I shake my head, "Katniss is too focused on wanting to protect her family, to think of a rebellion."

"Alright... it's still a start, don't you think?" He smiles at me.

"Yeah..." I say bitterly.

"What's that tone?" He's concern now.

"Nothing... I just don't want to keep my hopes up, you know?" I look down at my hands, avoiding his eyes.

"Hey... C'mon, look at me, Y/n." He gently takes my hand and pulls me to him.

I reluctantly, but not so much, look up at him, at his reassuring eyes. Sometimes all I want to do is get lost in them and never find my way back, but it's a luxury I can't afford, not right now.

I shake my head turning away from him.

"Listen... I want to hope we might have a shot, okay? I really do... it's just hard after everything," I say, bouncing my leg.

"I know," he sighs, "but, I mean, we've been hoping this whole time... might as well keep it up."

"I guess..." I smile at him, losing myself again in his eyes, I see him leaning closer, but I stop him, I have to. "Don't."

"I'm sorry..." he awkwardly smiles, "don't push me away like this." He whispers, cautiously taking my hand again, "Please."

"We can't... uh... I don't feel the same way... and... you should..." I stutter out, focusing on our hands instead of his face.

"You know you can't like to me, I know you all too well, love," he chuckles and I shake my head.

"We can't," I say and luckily the doors open and I rush out leaving Finnick behind.

I walk as fast as I can to the car, hoping to get home faster so I can freely cry and scream.

Once I get home I jump on my bed, burying my face in the pillows and just let everything out.

Of all people... why him? Love is so unfair...

No... no, not love... this is not love... I'm not in love with him and he is not in love with me.

That was just a trauma response... yes... yes. Nothing more.

He can't actually love me. If he actually did he could get killed because of it... but if it's not actual love, he's safe... yeah, yeah, he's safe. Nothing to worry about...

This is all I think about as I cry myself to sleep.

----------

"You said what?" I almost yell at Plutarch, almost because I don't want to risk being heard.

"He has to trust me. I can't just say 'leave her alone people will forget about her', can I?" Plutarch sighs, pouring whiskey into my glass, which I gladly take.

"I guess not," I let out a sigh, tapping nervously my glass, "what if you're right, though? What if they actually arrive to hate her so much to kill her themselves?"

"Do you think that would happen?" He asks, knowing already my answer.

"No..." I sit back down, "no, sorry, I'm just... scared shitless, alright?"

He nods understanding.

"I need to ask you one thing, miss L/n, and I need you to be honest," He says and I nod for him to ask away, "do you trust me?"

I look at him properly, trying to see if in his eyes there's even a tiny bit of malice.

"I do." I say.

"Good. There will be some things you shouldn't know, not because you might get caught, but because some things will require a genuine reaction from you," he explains with a serious tone.

"I understand." I nod, "Yeah, no problem. I just hope I would be able to help despite Cal" I say his name with a disgusted noise.

"We'll deal with that too," he reassures me with a small smile.

"Thanks," I say drinking some whiskey, "this thing will never happen too soon."

"I know,"

"May I ask... why do you trust me?" I ask, "I mean, to everyone's eyes I'm Snow's protégé... why do you trust me?"

"Haymitch Abernathy doesn't just trust anyone." Is his simple answer, "I'm sure you know that."

I nod, satisfied with the answer.

"They will send more peacekeepers to 12 tomorrow." He tells me.

"Yeah? I'm sure they're eager to start with the punishments" I comment bitterly.

"Yep."

"Katniss won't just stand there and watch." I warn him.

"I know," he says confidently.

I scan his face, he's not worried about it, he's certain and confident as if he planned it.

"You hope she does something," I accuse.

"Haymitch was right about you," he lightly chuckles, "you are smart."

"Don't change the subject, Heavensbee. This is an opportunity, isn't it?" I ask again, he nods, "if Katniss is the fighter I know she is... you'll get your opportunity."

"We'll get our opportunity," he corrects me raising his glass and I do the same.

"I hope you're right about this rebellion, Heavensbee. I really hope." I say and take a sip of whiskey.

And Katniss did something, indeed. It helped that her best friend was the one getting punished. The fact that both Haymitch and Peeta intervened was even better apparently, according to Plutarch. This is one of the parts of the plan I can't know apparently, but he seemed confident so I trust him...

Hope.

We're all depending on that.

-----------

"We'll finally be able to talk tonight," Finnick whispers to me as we stand in the elevator.

"How?" I ask, confused about what he has in mind.

He smiles and shows me what's inside a little bag he brought. A bottle of wine.

"You're gonna drug him?" I ask shocked.

"A tiny bit," he chuckles, "he'll also need to eat this," he shows me a small box of chocolates, "the drug will activate with both, the wine alone is ineffective."

"Yeah... because not drinking would feel suspicious, but we never eats so if we say no to the chocolate... no problem at all," I reason, "genius."

"I have my moments," he smiles proudly and I return the smile.

"I thought..." he clears his voice, "I thought we could also talk about... us?"

"Finnick..." I warn.

"We would have time..." he insists.

"There's no us, okay? Stop it." I sternly say.

"Keeo telling yourself that," he whispers.

From there the ride is silent until we arrive at Cal's apartment.

"Good evening, loves!" He greets us as usual, "how are my favourite people?"

"A little tired, you know, Snow wanted me to check some old records" I lie, not completely I really am tired, but of him.

"I'm actually fresh as a flower," Finnick starts, "I actually would like to celebrate,"

"Oh really?" Cal asks and grabs my hand to pull me to him.

"Yeah, I found this old bottle of fine wine in my home and I thought 'what better time to drink it if not with Cal Kingslay?', you know?" He takes the bottle out and soon after the box.

"And that?" Cal's intrigued.

"Oh this is a special gift for you, to thank you for your generosity," Finnick's ability to lie and charm him leave me stunned everytime.

"Aw that's sweet of you," Cal takes both the bottle and the box, "we'll share the box, loves."

"Oh, Cal, I'm sorry, but I'll have to gently decline, I ate so much today. Maybe later, okay?" I use the sweetest voice I can as he puts the objects on the table. I try to ignore how Finnick's jaw tense when I do this.

"Whatever you say, princess, as long as you say my name like that..." he turns to me wrapping both arms around my waist to pull me completely against his body.

"Alright, big guy," I try to nonchalantly pull away from him, "let's toast, shall we?"

"Of course!" Cal exclaims, taking the bottle and sending a grateful nod at Finnick. He goes to pour three glasses, "to what should we toast?"

"How about the Quartel Quell?" Finnick asks as he takes the glass from Cal's hand.

"Love that!" Cal cheers handing me a glass too, "here, princess."

"Thank you, Cal," I say, using his name again for good measure and he grins at that.

"To the third Quarter Quell!" Cal raises his glass and we quickly follow.

One each of us took a sip of wine, Finnick goes to open the box, offering it to Cal.

"Here."

"Oh so kind," Cal smirks, "you don't mind if I take two, do you?"

"Oh, but of course not, take as many as you want," Finnick gives him his usual charming smile as Cal takes two chocolates.

"You know I love sweets," Cal says putting both candy in his mouth, "mmh! So good!"

"Old recipe," Finnick explains.

I watch the scene, tense, I hope Finnick's plan works...

Not even moment later, Cal goes to sit holding his head.

"Hey, something wrong?" I fake concern.

"No... no I'm good," Cal tries to stand up again, but apparently his legs can't hold him up.

"Alright, let's get you to bed. Maybe you're just a little more tired than you think," I say, he let me help him to bed.

"Fuck..." he groans, once he's laying down, "I was really in the mood,"

"Don't worry, rest a bit, and if you feel like it later... we're here," I reassure him, but actually hoping he won't.

"Thank you, my love," he says drifting off to sleep.

I cautiously walks back out of the room and back to Finnick.

He looks at me with expectation written all over his face.

"He's asleep," I whisper, with the biggest smile.

"Yes!" He whisper-shouts.

"God... I wish we could do it every single time," I sigh relieved.

"Unfortunately he would get suspicious, but it's a nice dream," Finnick agrees.

"How much time do you think we have?" I ask sitting with him at the table.

"About... 2 hour and a half... maybe more since he took two chocolates," he explains.

"That's great... this might mean we wouldn't even have to do anything at all..." I chuckle and Finnick does too.

"Alright..." he lowers his voice, "I'm pretty sure, a very good part of the Victors are part of this thing"

"Well, Haymitch for sure... but I don't think he will let Katniss and Peeta know anything," I tell him.

"Why not?" He asks frowning.

"Katniss is basically supervised everywhere she goes... it would be too risky..." I explain simply, "do you know what happened today?"

"What?"

"New Peacemakers arrived in 12," I start, "Plutarch suggested more severe punishments,"

"What? Why?" Finnick almost exclaims, there's a deeper frown on his face now.

"It's a way to let himself in, Snow will never trust him otherwise." I sigh, "it sucks, I know. If Snow grows suspicious, we're fucked."

"I know," he sounds defeated.

"But the thing is," I start again, "this, according to Plutarch, created a perfect opportunity. He was so confident today when I saw him leaving a meeting with Snow, I think the plan is in motion."

" I can't fucking believe," he genuinely smiles, "it's really happening... and I mean, can you believe 13 is still alive?"

"I know!" I exclaim in a whisper, I wish I could just shout it sometimes, "it's crazy."

"You know... for the first time I saw some hope in Mags and not just defeat."

I smile at that, I know how important Mags is for him. When I was assigned to assisting district 4's mentors, Mags was always so kind to us... treating us like family.

"That's really nice to hear," I softly say, gently putting a hand on top of his.

He waits a moment before covering my hand with his other one, stroking it gently. I really should pull away, but this gentle, genuine touch is something I haven't felt in a long time. I look up, Finnick's already looking my way with a soft smile.

"You know, I can't wait." He says.

"For..." I clear my voice, "for what?"

"Finally kiss you." He simply states.

"Finnick... for the millionth time..."

"You don't feel the same... yeah, yeah, yeah." He interrupts me, standing up and taking me with him, "you can lie to yourself, but not to me. What I feel for you is-"

"Is not real." It's my turn to interrupt him.

"Oh yeah? Why's that?" He challenges.

"Oh god..." I let out a frustrated sigh, "it's just trauma response, okay? You don't love me, Finn. And I don't love you."

"Okay... so... why didn't you pull away yet and you're letting me, basically, cuddle you?" He challenges again, this actually makes me notice how close we are and how his hands are gently caressing and massaging my body.

I instantly pull away, earning a small laugh from him.

"You really need to stop it," I say, to convince myself, rather than him.

"But you're just so beautiful," he smirks, but it not like Cal's smirk... it's playful, he's not making me uncomfortable, he's just teasing, I know that if he actually made me uncomfortable he would stop right away.

"Alright, stop it." I can't help but let out a chuckle.

"You don't believe yourself either... C'mon." He walks closer to me, "dance with me."

"There's not music and I don't think putting something on will help our case with the sleeping beauty," I remind him.

"Just dance with me, c'mon, love," he holds his hand out for me to take and I do. I let him pull me to him and slowly moving to an imaginary rhythm.

He holds me to me him with so much care I could just melt here and now. I have to admit, it does feel nice.

I just keep reminding myself that it's not love, but two people comforting each other... right?

Right?

As I let Finnick lead, my mind can't help but go to next week event... the announcement of the third Quarter Quell... and my engagement.

I try to shake away the thought and focus on Finnick's body close to mine, how his taller frame is not imposing or constricting, but protective.

I try to focus on the fact that Plutarch's plan is probably going to work... hope.

All I focus about: hope and Finnick.

I'm afraid the two aren't so different for me.

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

The crowd is cheering like never before.

It's the announcement of the third Quarter Quell, after all.

I watch Snow taking his place in front of all Capitol's citizens, I sit with the rest of 'Capitol's elite' in the back, waiting for the big theme of this year's games.

I can't help but slightly bounce my leg, knowing what's coming after that.

"Are you okay, my sweetness?" Cal's voice startles me, I almost forgot he was next to me.

"Yeah," I force out a smile, "just excited to discover the theme of this year,"

"Plutarch didn't tell you?" He asks taken aback, "I thought he wanted you as an assistant, maybe he didn't have the chance yet... I hope I didn't ruin any surprise,"

"Oh, don't worry, Cal," I say, "I'll try to act surprised."

He smiles at me and I now try to contain my excitement, real excitement. Plutarch did find a way of creating chances for me to stay away from Cal.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," Snow starts and my attention is back on him, "This is the 75th year of the Hunger Games" he announces and che crowd cheers and screams, "and it was written in the charter of the Games that every 25 years, there would be a Quarter Quell to keep fresh for each new generation the memory of those who died in the uprising against The Capitol. Each Quarter Quell is distinguished by Games of a special significance. And now on this, the 75th anniversary of pur defeat of the rebellion, we celebrate the third Quarter Quell..." as the crowd cheers again, Snow takes out a chard, "... as a reminder that even the strongest cannot overcome the power of the Capitol."

Wait...

"On this, the third Quarter Quell Games, the male and female Tributes"

I don't like this...

"Are to be reaped from the existing pool of Victors in each district."

I can't help my shocked expression, what...? I try to look for Plutarch, but I can't see him.

"Victors shall present themselves on Reaping Day, regardless of age, state of health or situation."

This is the last place I want to be right now, i can't even listen to any more words from the President's mouth.

I don't even know what to think... if this is Plutarch's idea, I really don't know what he thinks he would get from it...

Oh god...

Finnick...

Finnick said a good part of the Victors are part of this rebellion... maybe that's what Plutarch has in mind.

Fuck.

I snap back at the present when I feel Cal's hand touching mine.

"And now," Snow's voice completely grounds be back, "our very own, Cal Kingslay, would like to say a few words,"

Cal stands up and joins Snow at the front.

"Thank you, president. It's an honour being here today, to celebrate this very special third Quarter Quell," the crowd applauses, "and... I want to thank every single person here today for the support they showed after my father's passing. So I thought to share the following moment with you all,"

My chest tightens, my heart is pounding inside so much it feel like it's about to explode... and I would be glad if it happened.

"There's one person, who's always being there for me... she's the one who always knows hot to make me smile, I only need to think of her and I'm suddenly a lot better... that is why..."

He turns around and walks towards me, my eyes are wide open. I try to make it seems like I'm excited and not absolutely terrified.

He comes in fron of me and goes down on one knee.

"Shit.." I breath out. He nervously smile as he takes something from his jacket.

The interaction would've felt like a very sweet moment... in other circumstances.

"So, Y/n L/n would you give me the honour of becoming my wife?" He asks, opening a small box revealing a silver ring with a stone embedded.

He looks at me and I look at Snow, who's looking at me with a look I know all too well.

"Do it or there would be consequences."

I look back at Cal and move my hand to make him stand, I don't think I would be able to speak without betraying myself, so... I kiss him.

[kaihuntrr]

part thirteen: the scarlet witch.

Martyn meets a deadly foe.

Martyn’s footsteps crunched against the cold, silent dirt streets. Grian and the others weren’t too far ahead of him. Martyn could see them walking a few dozen paces in front of him, but something about the walk back made it feel longer than it should have. Maybe it was the way his head buzzed over the two shots of liquor, maybe it was because of the eerie howls of the wind and the dark clouds above him, or maybe it was the lingering thought of the empty street.

Martyn’s stomach grumbled. It could be hunger, too. 

The stories the people in the tavern told him filled Martyn’s mind as he walked. He passed by dimly lit streets and tall buildings as he pondered on their words.

A woman who made a deal with the sea princes. A deal that gave her magic. She even saw their treasure. How did she do it? How did she communicate to the beasts? 

Why did a sea prince guard the island?

Martyn shuddered. Was it the same one that he saw? What had stopped it from eating him then, if it destroyed any hunting ship that left? 

…Perhaps Martyn alone didn’t look like a threat.

How could he be? The titan was hundreds, if not thousands of times Martyn’s size. It could have easily swatted him out of existence with a simple flick of its tail. 

…So why didn’t it?

Martyn’s vision became a slight blur as he nearly tripped over his own feet, only to be caught by Cleo.

“Watch your step,” Cleo held Martyn’s arm up and let him lean against them. “You almost fell.”

Martyn shook his head and leaned away from Cleo. He was a little shaken, but he could stand on his own. He’d walked all the way here by himself, didn’t he? Scar and Grian paused their conversation to look at Martyn warily, and Katherine was idly looking around, her arms crossed.

“I’m fine,” Martyn smiled, a small hiss escaped him as the throbbing pain of his headache hit. He looked at his friends and sighed, “I’m just… thinking.”

“About what?” Scar tilted his head. Martyn hummed, unsure of how to start. He knew if he opened his mouth he’d likely ramble. Scar raised an eyebrow as he glanced between Martyn and Grian.

“We heard stories about this island in the tavern,” Grian crossed his arms as he looked at Katherine, Scar, and Cleo. Neither of them were there to hear it, and it seemed Martyn didn’t want to speak. “Apparently, the island is called Crescent Bay, and it’s haunted by a witch who made a contract with the sea princes.”

“Who’d make a deal with those monsters?” Cleo hissed and narrowed their eyes.

“Someone who saw their treasure,” Grian sighed. The three’s eyes widened in surprise. He shook his head, “So we’d best stay wary of this place. I have no idea what she could do to us.”

Martyn could see the gears turning in their heads, just like they had in his. A human had already seen the sea princes’ treasure, and she was given magic in return. It sounded unbelievable, but Martyn felt like it wasn’t too far-fetched. The island looked sketchy already, and the thought of facing off against a sea prince before they left filled Martyn with both adrenaline and fear.

After all, how could he fight something so large and imposing, when all it took was a growl to send chills down his spine?

“We’d better prepare for a fight, then,” Cleo hummed. “The sea princes are trouble enough, what more trouble could come if someone made a deal with them?”

Grian nodded. “I agree. We should work on making the ship heavily defended. If we can’t get a boat for the Kites soon,” he looked behind himself, listening to the distant crash of waves against the wooden poles of the port, “We just have to make them cooperate with us.”

“I’m sure they would, considering the circumstances,” Katherine let out a weak chuckle, “Especially if you’re going to be fighting a sea prince….” She shook her head, “But for now, let’s turn in for the night. ”

Grian led the group back to the docks to meet back up with Joel and the others. It was a simple walk. There didn’t seem to be too many people outside, if there were any earlier, there were fewer now. It was odd. Despite the tall, ominous buildings, there didn’t seem to be too many residents of the isle. 

It made Martyn’s skin crawl thinking about what could’ve happened.

“What sort of deal was it?” Katherine asked, “Do the islanders know?”

“Magic for blind following,” Grian shrugged as they continued to walk. He crossed his arms, “Though I suspect there may be more to the story than they gave us.”

“They also mentioned that a sea prince guards the island, and that no hunter has ever left this place alive,” Martyn spoke. He shrugged with a smug smile on his face, “While I don’t want to brag, I'm certain we’ll be home soon.” He clumsily put one foot in front of the other and would have tripped, if it weren’t for Cleo catching him.

Cleo smiled and rolled their eyes with a small huff, “And get something off of the beast.”

“What are you talking about?” Katherine raised an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t just escaping be enough?”

Right. Katherine wasn’t a Canary.

Would it be alright to trust her? She’d been nothing but friendly with them. Who would she tell, anyway? Perhaps she’d tell Kites, and maybe then would that noisy crew cooperate with the Canaries. 

It should be fine to trust her on this.

Grian stopped and looked back at Katherine. “Do you promise not to tell anyone?”

The two stared at each other for a long moment. Katherine’s face slowly scrunched up while Grian furrowed his eyebrows.

Katherine looks uncomfortable.

Katherine glanced between the three Canaries with narrowed eyes. “...Sure,” she finally spoke. “I don’t like the way you’re all looking at me.”

Grian hummed in agreement. “We were commissioned by the king to bring back a sea prince,” he began to walk. Katherine followed, staring at the captain with wide eyes. He looked straight ahead, “Some naval commanders challenged us to who would lead the hunt. We’re planning to bring home a scale as proof so we can lead.”

“Huh. That’s an awfully big task for just one hunting crew,” Katherine muttered, putting a hand on her chin. “You all must be very capable.”

Scar nudged Katherine’s shoulder. “We’re the best hunters around,” he proclaimed. “So we’ll be back in no time!”

Katherine laughed along with Scar before she turned to Martyn. “Enough time for you to go back to your special someone,” she giggled as Martyn’s cheeks flushed red. The others started chuckling to themselves as well. “I wish the best of luck to all of you. It’ll be a challenge to get a scale off of one of them, I’ll bet.” Katherine’s gaze faltered, her amused look turned into a contemplative one. She crossed her arms as she became more and more engrossed in her thoughts. Perhaps she was doubting them. Martyn couldn’t fault her- it was a difficult task!

It was bound to be a challenge, no doubt about it, but with the Canaries, Martyn felt like anything was possible. 

Or maybe that was just the alcohol getting to him.

Whatever the case was, Martyn had promised Scott that he would make it home alive and well. That meant he had to come home with something from a sea prince. Now that he knew for sure that they were very real, it was only a matter of time until they snagged something from it.

“Just you wait!” Martyn proclaimed, raising his voice. His friends turned to look at him in amusement. “The terror of the sea princes will be gone soon.” He was sure of it. Even if that sea prince was hauntingly confusing to understand. Martyn probably needed some time to think–

“I wouldn’t say that,” a new voice spoke. It was loud, clear, and sounded like it came from above.

The hunters stopped walking, looking around the empty streets for the source of the voice.

Martyn whipped his head around. “Who’s–”

A loud thud hit the ground, and Martyn’s eyes widened as he turned around and saw the figure in front of him.

Her hair was long and chestnut brown with lighter tips. She was dressed like some pampered noble with her dress shirt and corset, and her red hooded cape with golden moons stitched into the hems. A pair of sickles hung from the sides of her belt. 

But the most intimidating thing about her was the huge angry red scar over her left eye. It didn’t look natural, as if it was purposely carved on her face. Martyn took a step back.

“It’s so lovely to see the island’s got some new faces, and they’re hunters too,” the stranger had an eerie grin. She laid her hand on the hilt of one of her blades. “I think you’d be some good entertainment. It’s been so boring lately.”

“Who are you?” Grian’s hand hovered over his gun holster.

The stranger gasped, putting a hand to her chest. “Me? Haven’t you heard about me? The islanders just love to tell every visitor all about me.” she laughed. She rolled her eyes, drawing her sickle and swinging it around casually. She looked at each of the hunters, her eyes strangely luminous in the darkness. “I know hunters are dumb, but you’re dense.”

Her sickle. Her twin sickles.

Martyn squinted his eyes to get a better look of them. They were shaped like crescent moons. The stranger wore a red hood.

A red hood and twin-blades shaped like the moon.

“You’re…,” Martyn’s voice quivered.

She laughed, sheathing her blade as she cocked her head. “The Scarlet Witch, at your service,” she bowed with a sense of over dramatic flare. “Though I think I’ve overstayed my welcome.”

The witch stood up to her full height, looming over them, and placed her scythe hand on her hip. She rolled her eyes and turned around, glancing back at the hunters before waving her hand. She chuckled, shaking her head like someone said a joke. 

“I’ll see you around, Hunter.”

The witch broke into a sprint, disappearing in a blur of red as mist began to fill the empty streets. The cold chill of the winds brushed against the hunters, Martyn shivered. 

Martyn stared straight ahead, looking down the misty street. He wasn’t sure what it was, but everything in his heart told him to follow. The light buzz in his head only got worse if he thought about turning around like nothing was wrong. 

He couldn’t possibly leave without getting answers.

“Wait!” Martyn dashed after her into the misty streets, hoping to find that blur of red.

Martyn could hear a set of footsteps running after him. “Martyn– don’t go after her!” Grian’s shouts did nothing more but encourage him further. Something about the witch was so engaging. He had to follow her, he had to know more. He couldn’t let her slip away.

“I have to!” Martyn glanced behind him. He stopped as he saw a blur of red on a street to the side. He took a sharp breath before breaking into a run in that direction. “I need to know what her deal is!”

“Martyn!” Grian’s shouts became distant. The twists and turns Martyn took, plus the mist beginning to grow into thick fog made it hard to see and hear.

Yet, Martyn could hear the clinks of metal from the witch’s sickles and her running footsteps just ahead of him. He had to keep chasing, he didn’t want to end up lost. He took another deep breath and followed the sound.

Martyn passed by silhouetted buildings, thankful he hadn't run into anything yet, as his heartbeat drummed in his ear. He shook his head, trying to unhear the phantom sounds of the sea prince’s heartbeat echoing through his head. 

Somehow, the scenarios were similar. It was hard to see anything, and Martyn kept pushing on to the point of hearing a loud heartbeat echo in his ears. He couldn’t get his mind off of that sea prince. Those inhuman eyes. Its vast, almost incomprehensible size. The way it simply stared at Martyn before it left. 

It was haunting and alluring at the same time.

When I come home, I can tell Scott the wait is nearly over.

Martyn could picture the concern on the ginger’s face when he told him about the hunt. Martyn never wanted Scott to worry too much. He should be worrying about something else- maybe about his tavern business or some petty squabble Martyn wasn’t aware of, just something not so dire. Martyn should- would be just fine. Oh, how Martyn longed to be back with the man already. He always felt homesick a few days into a hunting trip before he got used to being on the ship again, but this time, he was so ready to return home.

The uncertainty of this whole commission might be sending imaginary alarm bells in his head, but Martyn pressed on. 

I can’t wait to tell you everything.

It sounded unbelievable enough that Martyn was on an island guarded by a sea prince and terrorized by a witch. Martyn couldn’t wrap his head around it being so bizarre. It was a step closer to understanding the sea princes however, and Martyn couldn’t waste that opportunity.

The sound of Martyn’s steps changed from a mix of dry dirt and a stone path to creaking wood and the rush of water. A bridge over a river, good to know. He made himself stop. He didn’t want to fall over the edge. The heavy fog slowly lifted as Martyn waved away the air and revealed the entrance to a dark oak forest. The trees in front of him were tall and dense, its leaves were tightly packed so that there were only small hints of light filtering into the forest.

Martyn looked up to see the darkened clouds pull back ever so slightly, letting the ominous moonlight trail down to the ground around him.

The Scarlet Witch was there, too. She had her back turned towards him, facing the entrance of the forest. She stood completely still as Martyn pulled his gun out of its holster and aimed it at her. Martyn saw a slight twitch from her as he cocked the gun.

“Don’t move.”

“I won’t even try,” the witch shrugged. Despite having her back turned, Martyn could tell she was smiling. “What do you want?”

“I want answers.” Martyn’s grip on his gun began to shake.

“About what?”

“The rumors. Are they real?” Martyn tried to stop his heart from speeding up. He’d never done this before. He’d never threatened a person. But this was his chance to learn more. He needed to learn more. Martyn pointed his gun at one of the witch’s hands, noticing a small twitch, “Put your hands up.”

The woman raised her hands up. She laughed, “Oh, those things?” she nodded. “Yes, they’re very real.”

“Including the sea prince?” Martyn gripped his gun tighter.

“Yes, including the sea prince,” the witch sighed. “Are you going to talk my ears off about what goes on around my island, or can I leave?”

How did she act so… casual? For all she knew, Martyn could pull the trigger then and there, and she’d be dead. Was this not serious for her? Still, Martyn was learning from this.

“So they are real…,” Martyn muttered, glancing to the side and lowering his guard to think. He wasn’t sure if the sea prince guarding this island and the one he saw near the world border were the same, but they were the same accursed species lurking around. He aimed the gun back at the witch’s back, “How did you find the treasure?”

“You really want to know, don’t you?” the witch turned her body, showing the calm, murderous glint in her eyes as her lips formed a small smile. Martyn flinched at seeing the long, strange scar on her face. Martyn has seen and worn some nasty scars on his own body, but the witch’s scar was jagged and odd-looking. It looked like it was supposed to stretch longer, but it was all scrunched up. Clearly, there was something very wrong about her. She giggled, “I’ll admit, you’re a very eager hunter.”

“I said, don’t move,” Martyn growled, his hands shaking as he pointed the gun at the witch’s face. “Or do you want me to shoot you?”

The witch rolled her eyes. “If you do shoot me, you won’t get your answers,” she laughed. “So how about you play nice?”

Martyn glanced between his gun and the witch. She called his bluff. In all honesty, Martyn couldn’t dream of shooting a person. It just felt… wrong. At least with monsters, they don’t feel. They scream and writhe in pain, but it's not the same as hurting a person. 

Martyn lowered the gun, his grip beginning to loosen as he took in deep breaths. 

“There, that’s better,” the witch smiled. “And for good measure…”

In one swift motion, Pearl leapt forward and tackled Martyn off the foot of the bridge and into the dirt.

Martyn felt the back of his head collide with the ground first, the rest of his body flailing as the witch used her arm to pin him down, pressing it against his neck. Martyn tried to form words with his mouth, but her arm pressed harder on his neck, making them sputter off into nothing. She sat on top of his chest, pushing her weight on Martyn’s chest and shoulders.

“Get off of me!” Martyn choked. His legs thrashed against the ground as he tried to push the witch off of him, but she only shifted her weight higher. She wrapped her hand around his throat and squeezed, her nails biting into his skin as the other hand grappled for one of her sickles.

The witch grinned, her expression darkening, “What? You get to threaten me, and I can’t do the same to you? On my island?” She grabbed the hilt of one of her sickles and whipped it forwards, stabbing the tip of it into the dirt, dangerously close to Martyn’s neck.

Martyn gulped as the weight behind her grip on his throat lessened enough so that it wasn’t choking him anymore. Where was his gun? He moved his hands along the ground to find it, but when his fingers brushed against his gun’s handle, the woman twisted to kick it away. It skidded off the dirt path, falling into the long grass.

Martyn glared up at her. “You don’t, because you’re withholding vital information about the sea princes.” He tried to take steady breaths, but with the weight she still held against his throat and the blade so close to his neck, it was useless. “And as a hunter for the king, I’d say you owe me some respect.”

The witch’s eyes widened. “A king’s hunter, you say?” her grin split wider across her face as she bent forward over him. “Tell me this, what’s your crew’s name called?”

Martyn couldn’t think straight anymore. “We’re the Canaries,” he spat. “And we’ll leave this island alive, and show the world to not be afraid of the sea princes anymore.”

For some reason, that answer caused the witch to lean back, her grin dropped. Had she heard of them? She looked away from Martyn and hummed, he could see the gears turn in the witch’s mind for several moments before her eyes widened and she looked straight back at him. She giggled for half a second, then erupted into full-on laughter.

Martyn wanted to laugh too, in order to ease the tension in his mind, but his eyes darted back and forth to the witch and the blade next to his neck and he kept quiet.

“Little birds who flew too close to the sun,” the witch rolled her head, smirking at Martyn. “I’d say I’d feel bad, but I don’t. I’m excited for the carnage, actually.”

She leaned in close. Martyn wished he could look at anything else other than the piercing witch’s blue-green eyes. “Now be a good little bird and sing somewhere else,” she hissed. “Unless you want to try the open waters… Die like the ‘heroes’ you want to be.”

Her voice sounded different. Martyn could’ve sworn it sounded like thunder with how the ground seemed to tremble as she spoke.

The witch leaned away, her face illuminated by the moonlight. “But, to be nice, I’ll tell you my name, little bird,” she put a hand on her chin and smiled, her teeth almost looked like fangs. “My name is Pearl Moone. Welcome to the island.”

Pearl Moone. An odd name for an odd lady.

Pearl chuckled to herself before lifting her sickle from the dirt and delicately grazed Martyn’s left cheek with it. He flinched and hissed as a stripe of pain cut along his cheek, under his eye. She quickly got off of him and stomped on his gun as she passed it, somehow breaking it immediately. Martyn cupped his bloodied cheek as he stared at Pearl with wide eyes.

“Consider that as a welcome gift,” she grinned mockingly at him, “I’ll see you soon.”

Pearl spun the lightly bloodied sickle and watched as drops of red liquid flew away. She rested the twin crescent blades on her shoulders before casually striding into the forest. The mist grew thicker until it was covering the entrance, obscuring the red cloaked witch until she disappeared into the darkness.

Martyn stared after Pearl. He didn’t realize how quickly blood began to pour out of the cut on his cheek until it began to leak out of his hand, dripping down his arm. But he couldn’t move. It was like staring at that sea prince again. There was something about her that made Martyn stop in his tracks even as his heart raced.

Pearl was just as scary as a sea prince was.

[50cal-fullauto-astarion]

☈ your bones singing into mine ii

one - two

nikto x gen!bio-weapons engineer reader (no use of y/n) 3.4k words cw: honestly just the relationship being dysfunctional, also like warlord sugar daddy overtones, but that's just how this cookie is gonna crumble Nikto has swept you out of the darkness, and into an intact world burning full of ugly lights. He meets your every need as you work to create weapons to supply him an armory of shock and awe. He buys for you a place in Bruges, a rowhouse right on the water, and your only desire is a romantic dinner with him. He does not have it within himself to deny you.

Nikto brings you out into a world that is bright and burning, but mostly whole. He tells you that things are tied on a shoestring of balance, that any strong enough blow of breeze could tip the whole house of cards, and he has a look in his eyes that names himself typhoon. 

He is one of the most complex and deeply locked men you have ever met in your life, and you have met a great many men with secrets that could turn cities into subatomic particles in a blinding flash of a second. He wants to father a new world, a savage paradise, and, yet, he holds you in the palm of his velvet-covered iron fist as his finest treasure.

Penthouses are cleared out for you–places high in the sky, in any number of cities, so far away from the ground and the dark. He pours money into your comfort like hemorrhaging, and he cares not that his funds bleed, because he can always dump more into the wound. 

It’s a wound he wants to sustain, because he likes to see you clean, and comfortable, and sparking electricity as you work. He provides makeshift, mobile labs for you. Thousands upon thousands of dollars for computers, and programs, and security. Though he lifts you into the light, he makes you a small space of darkness, allowing you to run and return to your work.

He begins to call you Spider, or Pauk, depending on whether his English is dropping your name like a threat, or if his Russian is soft and trying to entreat you.

There is a place in Bruges, right on the water, that he pulls together for you. It is smaller than your other hideaways, cozier. Bulb-lit with warm wooden flooring and tall walls. He walks stiffly through the halls, watching for your reaction, and his shoulders relax when you turn from the window watching boats on the water to give him your cracked grin. 

“It’s out of a book,” you say, “the buildings are such bright colors. How is this real?”

“It’s always been this way here,” he tells you. He shuffles a moment, bringing his clasped hands from his back to his front, before he adds quietly, “We’re glad that you…find it acceptable here.”

Surely he is remembering the blocs he grew up on, all the colorless brutalist construction from the Soviet era. Houses for workers, starvation in the streets. You wonder if his place had heriz rugs all over the floors, to insulate sound and cushion steps and provide color. 

You press your fingertips into the cool glass, looking at him, wondering about him. You’d like to see his face, though he’s told you that it is a nightmare. You’d like to kiss him. You know he loves you, just as you love him.

“It’s perfect. I’m going to like it here,” you tell him, and your heart swells and patters when his shoulders raise a little bit, proud of himself for his pick. With his hidden face, you’ve become an expert in his body language. All his little tells become clear to you, the more time you spend with him.

He is slow with you, cautious. Not as if approaching a wild animal, he would never treat you with such base suspicion and wariness, but as if he is the animal, well-aware of exactly how powerful his bite is. He treasures you too much to damage you. 

Such brutality is held within this many-faceted man, vast and damning. He is a gentleman though, through accident or practice, and he puts that hardwork into effect with you.

It causes you to make the first move most of the time. 

“I want you to have dinner with me tonight,” you say, tapping your fingers against the glass, feeling the condensation cling to your fingerprints. 

He shakes his head. “Your value is too high for us to allow you out of the flat, Pauk,” he says gently, misunderstanding, as if reminding you. There are so many beautiful homes he has carved out for you, but you’ve never stepped foot outside of them. 

He thinks you want to, but that couldn’t be farther from the truth. The reality is that you are brimming with hatred at the fact it still stands. That your suffering was for nothing, and the apocalypse still lies dormant but rumbling, a stalled birth. You love your closed spaces and your blackout curtains that hide the world and your tall walls and bright lights.

“We can have something ordered and brought to you,” he continues, trying to soothe the blow that never landed.

A grunt of annoyance snaps out of your throat, hand pressing flat to the glass. “Nooo,” you draw out, turning to face him in full. “I want you all to eat here, with me. Only us, none of the guards making all that fucking noise with their heavy boots. And I want to pretend that we’re all just having a nice night. And there are no contagions or stadiums or belt-fed guns.”

In shame, his head drops a degree, arms tightening in front of him. The supple leather of his gloves creak. “Apologies, Pauk.” His head remains that one slice lower, but his eyes flicker up like a bird’s from beneath his rippy lashes. “We…” he pauses, trying to formulate the words, “we will put that together. For you. What do you want to eat?”

Your hand comes away from the glass, and you press your palms together like a prayer, holding the sides of your hands to your lips. “I want something bloody and buttery. Something good made by someone that doesn’t love me.”

A small noise like a laugh sounds behind his heavy mask, and his neck relaxes. It puts together a picture of thought: it’s a good thing we do not cook for you, then. “We will find something.”

+

Neither of you cook. It’s a sad reality. You were too built up for epidemiology and plague-practitioning to have the room or time to learn the skill, and Nikto readily admits that he’d long ago lost his sense of smell. “Nova gas,” he explained, funnily enough. “That was your grandfather’s work, yes?” It was. He and his team. You are a legacy leper-making, just like God and all of his followers.

The sun has settled fully in the city of Bruges, and the light of street lamps, the running lights of boats on the water, and fairy lights around shopfronts make the water glitter. It is warm here, with all the brick and cobblestone soaking up the yellow light, and for once you are fine with the curtains open.

Nikto has spoiled you rotten with clothing, all of it fine and soft and rich. You dress comfortably, beautifully, and wander the flat, looking over things leftover from past tenants, waiting on his return. He always leaves you with a guard when he is gone, and tonight it is a short but sturdy woman from Montenegro who does not speak. She sits on the small leather couch in the living room, reading a book with horses on the cover, rifle across her lap. You do not bother her, but you cannot wait for her to leave.

When Nikto arrives, it’s with yet another guard, this one in plainclothes, carrying two large paper bags in their arms. It’s always seemed funny to you that he just goes out in the mask, nightmare beneath it or not, and that people must have reactions in public. But, you don’t think Nikto travels anywhere that people would dare comment on it. He has lackeys for embarrassing, mundane duties. 

He takes the bags from the second guard, and dismisses the woman on the couch, letting you approach to lock the deadbolts on the back of the door when they’re out. It is your comfort and your right, he will not interfere with it.

Meeting his eyes, you grin a cracked grin at him. “Smells good. What is it? What was the restaurant called?”

He makes another laugh-noise, looking skin-close to bashful. “We do not know. We sent Dejanović to get it, he knows the city.” He peers into the bag. “He said foreign dignitaries enjoyed the place. We don’t feel like that always speaks well to quality.”

You try to take the bag into your hands, but his arm tightens. He does not like you doing menial tasks. He likes it only when you are free to tend to your work and whims. It is much preferable to him that your needs are met, and he is glad to tend to those tasks when he is with you.

“If it’s all rot and garbage, we can make zakuski instead, and wash it down with vodka,” you tell him, swaying a little, hoping the promise pleases him. “Tahumi brought me a can of caviar, and even found a mother-of-pearl spoon for it.”

His eyes grow hard at the mention of Tahumi giving you a gift. That is another thing that heckles him. He does not like others knowing about you, much less providing for you. That is his honor, and an honor he thinks it is.

Your mouth starts to curl. “Don’t eat yourself with knots,” you instruct him, but his eyes only grow harder, his posture stiffer. “I wanted it, and Tahumi saw it, and he bought it. He did it to please you, because you are so here-and-there with your underlings. Your favor can’t be curried because it doesn’t exist.”

“They are warm, walking corpses, and nothing more,” he says, stone-solid, cold. “We don’t need them for anything more than catching bullets and carrying out orders. You are not a tool to buy their way into security. There is none, and you–you’re–” 

He turns his head and breathes out hard. His body is held so tightly it paints pain on the walls behind him. His molars squeak as they grind together, trying to collect himself, but he is upset.

“Andryu,” you say, pulling his diminutives, trying to pluck the chords that will bring him back to you. You bend your body to swerve, attempting to capture his eyes. “Andryusha.”

There is a little break in the armor, a crack where you can push your fingers in, to find contact with him. There is a little light in his eyes. “We cannot allow you to be taken advantage of. Your wholeness is…” he trails off, struggling, and you provide him the territory to prowl, find his words. He turns and meets your eyes, and there is his passion. “Our last shred of warmth is you. If you are pained, or used, or discarded–it is a blow that would destroy the last human thing in us.”

And, here, your scant humanity answers his. You fold, slope, ease. You nod in agreement. “I know, Andryu, I do. But all of you know where my loyalties lie. You know I wouldn’t hesitate to find you if I felt targeted.” You want so horrendously to reach out and touch him, but you don’t. You have to allow him to initiate, otherwise he cannot handle it. “My lot is in your lot. I go where you go. Everyone else is a corpse that forgot to lie down and die.”

Using his language in ways that he understands it unlocks him to you. His gloved hand comes up, hovering just to the side of your jaw. But he doesn’t touch, he only traces the air in a line down the bone structure. 

+

He allows—or, rather, you give him no in allowing you to stand in the kitchen as he unpacks your meals to plate. It could be call an awkward affair, if either of you had the social graces to register that feeling in your minds. 

He’s taken his gloves off and swatted at your hand trying to take the paper bag for recycling, giving you a sharp look borne of the love he holds. Again, not allowed to lift a finger. 

There are faded Cyrillic characters tattooed across his knuckles, the black ink bloated and faded to blue. SOS across three fingers: either spasi, otets, syna or Suki Otnyali Svobodu. Save me, father, your son. Bitches robbed my freedom. 

He’s never told you which in specific, though he’s offered both as options. Tattoos are carved into so much of his skin, and he’s given you brief walking tours of them when he’s stripped down enough for them to appear. A warping on Russian prison tattoos, repurposed for the Spetsnaz. 

Epaulets on his shoulders—horses die from work. Devils just below those, oskals, hatred of authority. ‘I Fuck Poverty and Misfortune’ in Cyrillic, riding his Adonis belt. A lighthouse on his forearm, yearning for freedom. His skin tells his story, hard-lived, a language known to few. 

His plating skills are what cause him minor self-consciousness. He’s not an artistic man, and he has no eye for aesthetics. The blood-rare ribeyes are just placed and pushed to one side of the plate, crumbled blue cheese dumped artlessly on top. Creamed potatoes end up slopping over roasted asparagus, and he growls in his throat, frustrated. He is trying incredibly hard to make it pleasing. The more he moves it around, trying to be careful, the worse it looks. 

He wouldn’t care if it was solely for him. His frustration is because you will not be eating something pretty. In his mind, the only things you deserve are pretty and perfect. 

His hands stop fussing, resting on the edge of the counter, glaring down at the plates. “It looks like shit,” he renders his verdict. It sounds like he is considering throwing it away and ordering something else.

“Pelmeni look like shit. So does poutine. But it all tastes good, so we still eat it,” you push back. “No one eats shiny plastic or tinsel.”

He grunts again. “People eat shiny plastic and tinsel all the time, because they are fucking stupid.”

“If any of you are insinuating that any of us are fucking stupid, you’re being a fucking child.” Despite the content of your words, it is not said with heat. It is an olive branch, trying to reach him across the expanse of his dissatisfaction. You’re not sure you’ve made contact until his fingers start tapping on the counter, and he hums Krokodil Gena’s Birthday Song deep in his chest. He is calming, rectifying reality with himself. 

After a few, long moments, he picks up the plates, nodding at you, and carries them to the dining table outside the kitchen. It is situated in front of a set of big picture windows that he honestly does not like you standing near, ever, but it is for the sake of the evening. He sets your plate down, and pulls out your chair for you, before he seats himself. There are already sets of silverware and water on the table. A bottle of vodka, and two small glasses to drink from. 

You start by pouring two sips of vodka, offering him one. A toast falls out of your mouth, unthinking, and he clinks your glasses together in agreement. When you put your shot back, he hands you his glass, and you shoot that, as well. He has not removed his mask. He will not. But he overturns his glass next to yours.

It’s an odd affair, how the meal goes. Conversation picks up, on plans and your work, on the state of the world as it stands. That will run out, and you will both turn to other topics. Books, movies, cars. Oh, Nikto has such a soft spot for cars–he could talk about them from dusk until dawn. Luxury cars, supercars, performance and rally cars, working vehicles, even an astonishing breadth of consumer cars. He has opinions that stretch the globe, and you soak it up like a dry sponge. 

The oddest thing is that you eat, and he does not. He keeps his hands resting on either side of his plate, guarding it as if he was a prisoner, but he does not once touch his silverware. He won’t eat in front of anyone. He can’t, not without taking the mask off. It’s something he didn’t have to explain to you, you just understood it by studying his patterns. It’s something that made him even softer toward you. 

You finish, part of your steak left–you intend to slice it up and put it on some grilled crusty bread with piles of caramelized onions later–resting your fork and your knife on the edge of your plate. “That was good. Despite the dignitaries and dog shit. I want a copy of their menu, to tear up and eat bit by bit. I want all of you to have more dates with me, this one dripped romantic. All the seams were splitting up, and it went drop by drop by drop.”

“Date?” he queries, looking at you across the table as he reaches for your plate.

“Date.” You nod once, emphatically.

He shudders, smothering something that sounds like a sigh, averting his eyes. “We…will make sure there is a menu for you, next time,” he starts, unphased by your request. “Roses, if you like.”

You shake your head. “No use for roses, they wilt and die. Flowers all-wilted smell like the dark parts of the bunker, and my stomach eats and eats away at me because of that smell.”  You send an apologetic look across the table, thinking. “I’ll take tokens in trinkets. Whenever you bring me jewelry, I don’t take it off.”

As if in example, you pull up your sleeves, showing him the bracelets he’s brought you, left for your discovery on desktops and dressers. Next, you tug at your collar, showing him a pile of necklaces. 

His fingers twitch, looking at you helplessly. Not even he can prevent the swallow that goes down his throat, when he sees that you hoard the fine things he brings back for you.

Another long moment passes, and he is hoarse when he agrees, “Jewelry. We will bring you jewelry, then.”

In as much of a rush as you’ve ever seen him, he collects your dishes, and the bottle of vodka, storming back through the kitchen door. It doesn’t latch behind him, and you know he will be a while. It feels dirty, destructive and found and deceitful, but you sneak up to the crack, wanting to watch him.

His back is turned, his mask removed. Hair so deep in darkness it shines white under lights sticks up from his head at all angles, some of it missing from the side of his skull, along with an ear. He eats quickly, in clipped bites, gorging himself, stopping only to tip back the vodka bottle. It’s almost an ugly display, brutal necessity, and you know as well as you know the own pounding of your heart that he is uncomfortable, that he hates this. He hates to be bare.

You cannot see his face, and you would not try to see it. You want to see it someday, and that will only happen when he is ready to show you. You will not steal that freedom from him. You will not sneak looks when he is unawares. It is the same courtesy he has afforded you, and you are hellbent to pay it back in kind.

With that prickling your skin, you back away from the door, allowing him his needs. 

When he returns, sitting next to you on the couch, he is warmed-through and softened by the alcohol and food. He takes hold of your ankle, pulling it into his lap, rubbing the knob of your bone with his bare fingers. His masked head tips back, resting against the back of the couch, and he heaves a heavy sigh.

Your stomach clenches, and your heart races. There is so much love between the two of you, so impossibly massive that it cannot ever be feasibly dealt with, and that is something you are fine with when his eyes meet yours in a crinkled smile. 

Perhaps your union will kill the world as it stands, but you don’t particularly mind. His hands are warm against your bones, reaching deeper than any other human possibly could, and he looks at you as if you are his only purpose in life, even if that is not true.

“Andryusha,” you greet him quietly, turning your leg in his touch so he can have more skin.

Another small noise, pleasure, and he rubs deeper, followed by a soft, heartsick request, “Say it again, Paukya.”

[13a07s]

My Home

(Keishin Ukai Smut)

[Artwork is not mine! Credit to Honeyutopia]

Requested by: Nada

Word Count: 3,659

Warnings and/or Pre-Notes:

Name Calling: Toots, Baby, Tootsie Roll, Bitch, Shit, Babe

Teasing Threats of Violence

Smacking

Hair Pulling

Blow Job

Head Pushing

———————————————————————

     The sound of shoes against the wooden stairs tips me off to Keishin's return. My eyes occasionally glance at our bedroom door, my focus on listening to him move around the apartment instead of the TV show I'm watching. His keys jingle as he hangs them by the door, his voice soft as he grumbles to himself. "Toots?"

     "In here!" I call, turning my focus back to the TV. My hands go back to focusing too, slowly continuing to crochet the blanket I've been working on. The box tucked into the corner of our closet is full. This last blanket will push it to overflowing. I'll have to ask Keishin to bring the box to the shelter when I'm done with this project.

The door squeaks as he pushes it up, my pretty boy leaning in the frame, his hands clinging to the top of it, and his arms stretched out as he leans forward. "There's my Toots. Let me show you my Roll."

"Pervert," I giggle, sparing him a glance and a head shake. "I'm not going to let you flash me."

"Aw, why not?" I can hear the grin in his voice almost as well as I can hear his footsteps across the room. "You know I love it when you stroke my, uh, ego." As I expected, Keishin's face is drenched in a smile even with his eyes drowning in exhaustion.

He kicks off his shoes, the sound of them and his bag hitting the floor promising another thing on my to-do list tomorrow. Keishin crawls into the bed, stretching out diagonally so his feet hang off but his head can rest in my lap, arms snug around my waist.

     My arms and project fall still underneath him, the ball of yarn and my crochet hook probably stabbing into his torso. "Rough day?" I murmur, tugging my hands out from under him. They settle on his back, gently massaging as my eyes trail over his t-shirt. They float across the white material like a boat in a foamy sea, enjoying the bright cloth and the way it hangs on his body. No longer an athlete but still the loose build of one. What a wonderful situation I get to enjoy.

"Not rough, just long. A bit stressful too," he answers, the words coming out jumbled because of his face buried in my lap. Keishin steadily starts to relax under my touch, the knots in his muscles starting to become more evident. "The farm was just a blur, then the store, and ya. Then the boys are all worked up about their practice match this weekend and I don't know. Hoping for the best, preparing for the worst, you know?"

"I know, Baby," I coo, focusing my attention on his shoulders. My thumbs dig into his muscles, starting the slow but needed job of working out his sores.

"I think I have a plan though."

"Oh, ya?"

     "Ya," Keishin sighs, rolling his shoulders to adjust to the new feel of them. "We're going to use Tsukishima - the tall one with glasses - as a sort of director, I guess."

     "How is he going to be a director?" I half listen to his explanation, cozying into the rhythm of his voice and the feel of my hands soaking in his body heat. Occasionally, I nod my head, hum, or throw out an "oh ya?"

     "But anyway, that's my plan. I don't know how well it's going to work, let alone how to explain it to the kids."

     "Do you want to practice?" I ask, my focus falling away from his back. Instead, I mess with the small silver hoops dangling from his ear, rotating them through his piercings. "If I can understand what you're trying to say I'm sure the boys will get it too."

"Really?" He mutters, lifting his head to peer up at me.

"Ya, Baby." My hand slides away from his ear, falling to rest against his face, my thumb rubbing his cheek.

     A soft smile settles on his lips, his head tipping to press into my hand some more. "You're the best, Toots."

     "Don't tell the others," I tease, leaning down to be closer to his face. "You'll dry up my street cred and then I'll have to beat you to get it back."

"Oh, I know. But I so love it when you beat me," Keishin teases right back, closing the gap between us with a kiss.

"Pervert," I grumble when we pull apart, rolling my eyes at him.

"You love it."

"Oh, do I?"

"Yes," he drags out the word, a mischievous smile crawling on his face. "You love it so much," he adds, gripping my waist tighter.

"Kei, what are you doing?" He doesn't answer me, softly chuckling instead. His hands loosen their hold, sliding down before sliding back up again, this time under my shirt. "Keishin? What are you doing?" I repeat, squirming to try and escape his hold. I already know it's too late, and so does he.

Keishin grabs me again, yanking me down so I'm lying on the bed instead of propped up against the headboard. I jerk around in his hold, trying to get free before I'm trapped underneath him. He eagerly fights back, quickly overpowering me and sandwiching me between himself and the mattress. "What now, Tootsie Roll? Hmm? Can't get free, can you?"

"I'm going to beat your behind when I get free, Keishin!" I declare, trying to push him off of me. He barely moves from my effort.

     "Oh, ya, Toots. You're doing such a good job at it. Maybe I should make it a little more difficult."

     "What does that mean? Baby, what are you scheming - "

     My questions are cut off by Keishin's fingertips dancing over my sides, my nerves spiraling and twirling in response. My body jerks from the sensation, giggles being ripped from my lungs as I try to escape his touch. "Oh, oh, oh. Someone isn't a big mouth off anymore is she?" He teases, plopping kisses against me anywhere he can. "What happened to that bad little bitch that was threatening me? Who was oh so worried about her street cred?"

     "She's still going to beat your ass!" I manage to push out despite my laughter. The mix of rough fingers toying with my sides and gentle lips against my body make for a weird but comfortable mix. It makes for a perfect example of how love-struck and wild Keishin is for me.

Soon, his fingers stop attacking me, wrapping around me instead. "God, Toots," he whispers, wrapping his arms tighter and pulling me close against him. Our bodies mold together, my back slightly arched from Keishin's attempt to pull me closer. His head buries into my neck, nuzzling against my throat as he takes slow and deep inhales. "You always smell good. Like my heaven. Like my home."

I giggle again, this time soft and gentle instead of the high-pitched, rapid laughs from my tickle attack. "Gosh, someone must have had a rough day if he's being all soft and gushy."

     "Do I have to have a long day to be 'soft and gushy' with my Toots?"

     "Yes."

     "Fuck you," Keishin barks around a mouthful of chuckles. One of his hands jumps up, balling up a fistful of hair and yanking my head to the side. "Do you not like me all soft, Tootsie Roll?"

     "I do," I mutter, drowning my eyes in the sight of my cocky husband. "Especially since you're only soft for me, you cocky little shit."

     "I'm the cocky shit? Says the lady that says I'm only soft for her, which is completely false by the way, Toots. My Roll is always hard for you." My hand swings up, smacking him upside the head. "Damn," Keishin chuckles, leaving his head dipped down to brush kisses against the front of my throat. "Guess I'm not getting any action tonight."

     "You got action this morning. Twice. Bed and shower. Besides, you have a play or strategy or whatever to practice going over."

Keishin knocks his head against my chest once, twice, three times before lifting it to face me again. "You're right, as always." His sentence is punctuated with a soft kiss on my lips. A sigh follows our kiss, my husband rolling off of me and letting me breathe freely again.

I situate myself, sitting up against the headboard again, as he leans over the bed to snatch his bag from the ground. Keishin straightens himself once he has his stuff, sitting crisscrossed in front of me. I watch curiously as he digs through his bag, pulling out a whiteboard and such. I know coaches do the whole whiteboard team meeting thing in movies but for some reason, I never thought it was something people did.

"The magnets are numbered with the boys' jerseys," he starts explaining, twenty or so magnets littering the bedspread alongside a pile of dry-erase markers. Keishin's forehead wrinkles as he focuses intensely on the board, doodling whatever it is he's drawing. "It's a practice match against Date Tech. Last year they caused us some trouble but our Ace - that's the top spiker by the way," he cuts himself off, looking up at me as he explains the terminology. "Did pretty good at getting through their defense, but Asuma graduated."

"Don't you have a new Ace though?"

"Ya, Tanaka. He's a good spiker and a good Ace too, but he can get a little hot-headed. Doesn't always think before he acts, especially when he's worked up. Ennoshita does pretty good at keeping him in line, most of the time anyway."

     "Well, that's good at least."

     Keishin hums in agreement, laying the whiteboard down between us. An outline of a volleyball court decorates the board in thin and thick lines. His eyes jump around the bed, glancing through the magnets before he lays them down. "The black ones are my boys, they're the ones numbered, and the white ones are the opposing team, okay?"

     "Okay."

"The good thing about Date Tech is two of their blockers from last year are still on the team so I have an idea of what we're working with. The bad thing is two of their blockers from last year are still on the team so they also have an idea of what to do," Keishin rambles, placing the magnets onto the board and moving them around how he wants them.

"Sounds like a rock and a hard place."

"Ya," he chuckles, the sound coming out stressed instead of happy. "I'm not that worried about our offense though. Hinata - the one you call an excited yorkie - has gotten better at adapting his spikes so that'll have to be a more in-the-moment plan."

     "That's good, Baby," I murmur, watching as he nervously clicks the pieces around the board, not a hundred percent certain of any of his placements.

     Keishin falls quiet for a few moments, messing with the magnets until he's soothed his worries. The board is propped up, aimed at me so I can see it better. "Alright, so, our defense sucks. Not as bad as last year but still not the best."

     "Got it," I murmur, nodding in agreement even though I wouldn't know that without Keishin telling me.

      "A lot of it falls on Tsukishima, a lot on Nishanoya too, but mostly Tsukishima in the front row." He taps on the piece labeled eight.

     "Hinata," number seven is tapped on as he keeps explaining the situation to me. "Is the worst on defense. Mostly because he can't receive for the life of him, but he just doesn't have the experience, so, per usual, when he gets to the back row, after he serves," Keishin rotates the pieces in a circle until number seven is in the middle of the back row. "I'll swap Hinata and Nishanoya out." Number seven is pushed out of the box and replaced by an orange magnet labeled four.

     "That makes sense," I tell him, nodding in agreement again. The situation does make sense, but number four being orange confused me a bit. Oh well, I guess. The colors of the magnets don't matter.

"For the first match at least, probably more, Tsukishima will be calling the blocking plays." Again, number eight is tapped on. "He has an eye for that sort of stuff and I'm hoping he'll help the others pick up on what he sees, you know? Give them an idea of what to look out for so they know how to react. Does that sound stupid?"

"It doesn't sound stupid, Baby."

"Okay," he whispers, mostly speaking to himself. "Anyway, so that's pretty much the plan. Having Tsukishima control the blocking until we get a feel and or until the other boys can figure it out for themselves. It's going to be a lot on him," Keishin mutters, laying the board back down between us.

     His eyebrows are pressed together, his forehead wrinkled from the act. All Keishin is made out of is nicotine, spite, and stress. Usually, I'm worried about his stress, but at the moment I find it more cute than worrisome. I adore how much he loves his players and how set he always is on giving them the best chance to win and improve.

     "I don't want to put too much pressure on the kid. He just picks up on these things the quickest so, it's the best to have everything set how he needs to test his theories and whatever, right?"

     "Right. Besides, worst case it doesn't work out and you fall back on what you know."

     "Ya, I guess so. I don't want to do that though. It'll leave us scrambling, you know?... I don't know. I don't want to stress Tsukishima out or put him under pressure but I just... I don't know." Keishin sighs, his hands dragging down his face. "I don't know what to do, Toots."

     "Oh, baby," I coo, leaning across the bed to wrap my arms around him. A hand settles over his shoulders, the other knotting into his hair, running through the locks he let loose on his drive home. "What have I told you about thinking things over?"

     "Once isn't enough, ten times is too many. Find my happy medium," he mutters, turning his head to brush kisses against my wrist.

"And how many times have you thought this issue over?"

"Ten... twenty... forty times, maybe. I don't want the first practice match of the season to be a bust, you know? That's terrible momentum to run on."

"I know, Baby, but the more you mull it over, the more holes you poke in your thoughts. Just talk to Tsukishima, okay? See how the kid feels about it. If he feels like he can handle it, go with your plan. If not, wing it. After all, my crows have always been good at adapting quickly."

Keishin arches forward, melting our bodies together again. His arms find their place around my waist, keeping me flesh against him. "My sweet Tootsie Roll," he murmurs, his head finding its place on my shoulder, nose pressed against my neck as close as possible. Same routine and position since the start of our relationship. "Always the perfect mix of sweet and tart when I need it. Always my home." He inhales the scent of my perfume and shampoo again, taking his time like always to savor the smell.

     I give him a little while, letting him drown himself in me, letting him calm his nervous down from his emotional escalation, letting him restart and re-stab his thoughts. "Alright," I finally murmur, moving in his arms. "Enough welling," I tell Keishin, pushing him off of me before pushing him onto his back.

He softly smiles at me, his hands rubbing my arms as I situate myself on top of him. "I can't help it, Toots. You know I worry about everything," Keishin whispers, adjusting himself to lay more comfortably on the mattress.

I hum a melody as I lean downward, laying my chest against his as I nuzzle my nose against his neck. "Maybe a little distraction will help?" I whisper, brushing light kisses against his skin.

"What kind of distraction are you thinking about?" Keishin mutters, his hands finding their way to cup my ass.

"I'm not too sure yet," I answer, making my way down his neck. I slowly trail further, curving over his shoulder and down his chest. His shirt is stained with my path, my lipstick standing out on the white t-shirt. "Maybe," I start, nuzzling the hem of his shirt with my nose as my hands busy themselves undoing his pants. "You just need some under-the-desk support."

"Damn, Toots. You know I'll never turn down an offer like that," Keishin grumbles, his hands sliding up to rest higher the more I inch down. My tongue slides over his skin, the tip teasingly poking under the band of his boxers. A groan ouches in the room from Keishin, his hands sliding over my back and between my shoulder blades before styling in my hair. “Toots. The teasing, Babe.”

“What about it?” I whisper, the peach fuzz of his happy trail tickling my lips. “I thought this is what you wanted. After all, you came in asking to use your dick,” I tease, my fingertips sliding against the plaid material of his boxers before settling on the imprint of his dick. I take hold of him, stroking his trapped erection as my tongue continues to trail back and forth under the elastic band.

Keishin’s fingers knot in my hair, holding it back from my face. His chest is raspy with his heavy breathing, growls, and grumbles mixed with the sound of his lungs. “Toots, come on. The teasing isn’t cool.” He yanks on my hair, forcing my head back and my eyes up. “Knock off the teasing. Either suck my dick or get on your knees so I can paint your tits.”

I roll my eyes at him, a smile hanging on my lips as I soak in the frustration on his face. “Fine, no more teasing.” His hold loosens on my hair but doesn’t let me go. Keishin’s deep brown eyes stay locked on me, watching as I inch his boxers down enough for his dick to escape.

My tongue wraps around his base, starting the collection of drool that’ll slide down and wet his balls. I tease the base for a tongue lashing or two before starting the slow slide up his length, mentally counting my way.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

“Baby, come on,” he hisses, his knuckles popping from gripping my hair so tight. My scalp stings from my roots being pulled on but I can’t seem to care much. I adore teasing Keishin to the point of desperation.

Five.

Six.

Seven.

My tongue slides over the tip of his dick, the taste of his pre-cum coating my taste buds. My hand wraps around him, slowly stroking the base as I twirl around and tease the head. Keishin is already squirming, his hips jerking and penis twitching. “Damn it, Toots. Knock off the teasing. Baby, you’re killing me,” he grumbles on repeat, his teeth clenched as he hisses at me.

“You’ll be okay,” I murmur, finally allowing part of him to slide between my lips.

Keishin’s tip settled in my mouth, a loud “Fuck” spilling out of him. I can’t help the prideful smile trying to curl the corners of my mouth. I puff my cheeks out, my tongue trailing the veins of his cock as I suck on him. “Jesus, Baby, come on,” he huffs, flexing his fingers before returning his death grip to my hair.

It’s driving him crazy. The teasing. The slow pace. The minimal attention. The restraint not to shove my head down and force his dick further in. Maybe I should be nice and give him a bit of what he wants.

I keep my movements slow as I slide down, his cock inching further and further. His tip taps the back of my throat, brewing a couch in my lungs. I don’t let it stop me though, continuing to slide down as my throat flexes to try and resolve the need to cough. “Fuck!” Keishin yelps, shoving my head down.

My lungs and throat scream with the need to cough up the block, a jumble of gagging and spit leaking from the corners of my lips. Keishin’s cum spilling over and dripping down my throat doesn’t help the situation. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Toots. I didn’t mean to,” he rambles, dropping his hold away from my head to toy with the ends of my hair.

I jerk my head up, back to sucking on the tip of his dick to encourage his cum to keep spilling down my throat. Apologizes ring from Keishin on repeat, his focus on trying to gently push me off himself and check on me instead of his dick twitching in my mouth.

When he finally dries up with nothing left to tant my tongue in salt, I pull off of him. My lungs scream with the feel of easy and fresh air coating them. “I’m sorry, Toots,” Keishin repeats, his hand cupping my face while his thumb brushing against my cheek. “I know you don’t like when I push your head. It won’t happen again.”

“It’s alright,” I whisper, trying to steady my breathing. My hand jumps to my neck, massaging it as I lean into his touch.

“No it’s not, Toots,” he softly says, tugging me to sit in his lap again. His hand joins mine against my neck, helping to rub away the soreness of it. “You’ve told me before you don’t like me pushing your head and I did it anyway. You’re my home, Baby. That’s not how a man takes care of his home.”

[thebowieconstricker]

Head Over Heels - Chapter 3

(The Creature x Reader)

A Lisa Frankenstein (2024) fanfic

masterlist

HEY I hope this fandom is still alive. I’m so sorry I’m not consistent but I’m gonna try writing more because I have more time now. Thank you for your patience! Enjoy the sillies and feel free to make Creature x reader requests!

~~~

You dreamed you were on a small wooden boat, drifting gently in the ocean. You couldn’t speak, despite how you opened your mouth and tried, but you could see and hear. The work around you was completely monochrome, including yourself. A sad love song faintly wafted through the air.

At first, it was vast nothingness, the body of water stretching on for infinity. But then, you noticed a small building sitting upon an island. As it got closer and larger, you came to recognize it.

Your house. Your old house, before all this.

You were going home.

You smiled, despite the melancholic nature of the dream thus far, and the boat, almost as if it responded to your emotions, picked up speed, whirring you towards the house.

It was then that you noticed something else. Something you were certain was not at your old house.

A statue of a man, stood tall and proud, regally awaiting your return. You recognized him too, soon enough. Your friend from the graveyard, happy to escort you home. You’d never seen him so… whole. Only a bust he was no longer. As your boat came up to the island, it gently hit the sand, keeping it in place. You looked up to the man and smiled a knowing smile. His face was stone, but there was something so lifelike about him.

And then, somehow, through the power of dreams, you watched as he broke from his prison of stillness to outstretch a hand to you. Offering you assistance.

Of course he would be a gentleman. Naturally, you took it.

~~~

You awoke in your bed, covers up to your chin.

Wait- how did you get back home? The last thing you remembered was wandering into the woods, head spinning with the taste of vomit burning in your throat. Had you somehow managed to stagger all the way back home?

You stretched and yawned, eyes looking straight at your ceiling. You sat yourself up on your pillows to get a better look at the weather outside your window, hoping you could get an idea of how late you slept, when-

Your eyes met two dark ones, a mass of moss and dirt standing at the foot of your bed.

HOLY SHIT-

Naturally, you screamed. The thing in front of you flinched, as if it was surprised you were reacting that way. Terrified, you jumped out of your bed, but your foot got caught on the bedsheets on your way out, and you tripped and fell into the floor. At that moment, you heard a grunt from the thing, and it lurched towards you. Your eyes widened in panic and you screamed again, scrambling to your feet.

“WHAT ARE YOU?? GET OUT OF MY HOUSE-“ You started screaming at the top of your lungs at the thing, unsure of how to handle it. You scurried around your room, practically hugging your wall, and tried to find something you could use as a weapon.

Stuffed animal? Shit, no. Pencils? Sharp, but ultimately, useless. Old baseball bat? YEP!

You grabbed the bat, surprised it had survived your moving (you had only played baseball once when you were, like, four), and wielded it at the thing in front of you.

This action seemed to rattle it, as it backed away from you and put its hands out, as if to say, “hey, now.” You furrowed your brows.

The thing looked vaguely human. It had the stature of a human, at least. Two legs, two arms. But it was covered in so much muck and grime, it was impossible to tell.

The creature grunted, its hands slowly lowering to its sides. For some reason, it hadn’t attacked you, or run towards you. You figured if it was creeping around in an 18 year old’s room, it had some weird intentions, but it made no move towards you.

Almost as if it was waiting for something?

“I’ll ask again.” You said, grip on your bat tightening. “What are you?”

You looked at it as it stood its ground, carefully looking at you. It outstretched its arms as it gently bent its knees, clearly trying to maintain balance. You watched as it slowly, slowly sank to the floor. Now, it sat.

Okay, now you were confused. Gripping the bat tightly, you walked slowly towards the thing. It made no move, just blankly staring at you. You could get a better look at it now, and you could deduce that whatever it was, it used to be human. Its eyes were deeply sunken into, it’s poor face laced with cuts and caked in dirt. You could tell by its remnants of high cheekbones and pursed lips that, once, maybe it would have been considered… handsome?

You took a shaky breath.

“…hello?”

The thing grunted in response, its eyes gleaming beneath the grime. It’s head swiveled from side to side, scanning your bedroom floor. Then, steadily, it reached towards a magazine lying on your floor. Your room was in a constant state of disarray, magazines and books and pencils and paper strewn everywhere. The thing gently grabbed a zine and brought it to his lap, looking at the cover. He moved like he had rigor mortis, but he pointed to a word on the cover: hello!

Holy shit, it could communicate.

You slowly sat on the floor with it, the fear you had once felt fizzling away. Whatever this thing was, it didn’t seem like it meant any harm.

“What… are you?” You asked.

Its hand moved to touch its heart, then it pet the ground beneath it.

Heart… ground?

Like underground?

It’s arms stretched out towards you, like a child asking for you to help it up. Feeling strangely embarrassed at your decision to sit with it, you stood up to help him. You grabbed his arms, wincing slightly at the rough texture, and helped it to its feet.

The thing made a noise, guttural and strained, then walked around to the Polaroids on your wall. You’d taken several amateur photos of the graveyard there, as photography was one of your hobbies. Obviously, you had taken a photo of your favorite grave, and…

Holy shit, he was pointing to it.

Everything clicked.

“You’re him!” Your eyes widened in shock and you covered your mouth with your hands.

It- he- nodded.

“But how? You’ve been dead for years, what happened?”

You walked slowly towards him, taking in his appearance with curiosity. He was missing his left ear (you frowned after noticing it) and he had deep wrinkles etched into his face. He looked at you with similar interest, as if you were the first person he’d seen in years. Hell, you were.

Then, you noticed the smell.

“OH MY GOD- you smell SO bad.” You covered your nose, nearly choking from the thick stench surrounding him. He cocked his head like a confused puppy, then attempted to sniff himself. He shrugged.

“Listen, I have some questions, but- let’s get you in the shower first.”

~~~

Taglist!

@strawbeii @sativamommy @snowangelz @kenqki @elmolovesw33d @the-jester-calamity @kermitdafroggy

Thanks for your support! You make me wanna keep writing <333

[suratan-zir]

I spent the last day of summer just as I spent most of it - swimming in the lovely green waters of the Dnipro river. I thought I wouldn’t be able to, I’ve been very sick for the last month. First, it was covid, then I got re-infected again when my husband got sick, and it messed with my condition pretty badly. It’s still hard to breathe, and my chest bone kind of hurts, dunno what's up with that. I can’t walk long distances, which is a bummer because that’s mostly how I deal with suicidal moods and general feel of hopelessness. But I can walk a little bit! Fortunately, it was enough to get to the “secret” beach.

We’ve lived here for nearly three years now and know this place well. Even on the weekends, in good weather, when campers or fishers are everywhere, we still know a few secluded spots with no people around.

Even though I’m weak, it was worth the struggle of walking. You know when you were a kid, and your mother would tell you, “Time to get out of the water, your lips are turning blue!”? But then later, when you grew up, you learned to appreciate just chilling by the water without being in it all the time? I never did. I never grew out of it. I learned to swim kind of late, at 13, but I love swimming like nothing else. I can swim for hours and still not get bored or tired. It’s like all my problems don’t exist when I’m in the water. I only wish it was my love, the Sea of Azov, but russia stole it.

Anyway, when we were heading back home, it was bee-utiful. We had to walk through the abandoned children’s summer camp (the one where we rescued the turtle last fall - if you remember, you remember), and I accidentally found a wild bee nest in between the bricks. I heard buzzing.

This put me in a bee-searching rush. I remembered that a few months back, we saw crumbled honeycombs on these abandoned campgrounds, so I figured there must be more bees.

In this camp, there are a bunch of small wooden houses, kind of like trailers - some of them already completely ruined, but many still somewhat intact. Somehow, I pointed at the exact house that I was looking for. I said, "It’s a perfect place for bees: weatherproofed, with a lot of entrance points…" Then we saw a bee flying in. So we followed her and saw this - a whole freaking makeshift beehive. Full of bees. And on the other side, there was a boat.

So someone saw an abandoned structure, which still very much has an owner. This territory was bought by someone, and they already started construction there, demolishing some buildings. They also wrote in large letters that they will kick the ass of trespassers and throw them in jail for looting. No one cares. Then, with the beginning of the invasion, construction stopped. But yeah, the audacity of just starting their own little beekeeping thing and storing their stuff there, it’s kind of hilarious.

Overall, it was a great birthday (it wasn’t technically my birthday, but it kind of still counts). My birthdays usually suck, so that’s rare.

Thanks for listening to me rambling about nothing <3

[ash5monster01]

Getaway Camp : Fifteen

Pairing: Charlie Dalton x FemReader

Warnings: language, minor angst, fluff, confrontation, forgiveness, reunions.

Summary: Charlie’s on a mission to apologize to Valerie, in the end he discovers living life afraid of the outcome is no way to live.

word count: 2.7k

Masterlist

Fourteen ←→ Sixteen

July 25th 1961

When Charlie wakes up the first thing on his mind is seeing Valerie. Yet having taken so much time away from her he has no idea if she works or not. It was more than likely that she did and he would just have to wait, but now he was antsy, unable to control his nerves as he anticipated speaking with her again. Even though he had realized how much more in the wrong he was, he needed that time to clear his head and evaluate his feelings for the girl. It was plain and simple, but he had fallen in love. The difference was, now he was willing to accept it.

After getting ready for the day with no Valerie in sight, he settled for the fact she more than likely worked all day. So knowing he would need to keep his mind occupied he starts for the boat house, determined to paddle his frustrations out, and hopefully earn a glance of her in the lifeguard chair wearing that mesmerizing red suit. After wrestling with the old wooden door and letting himself into the dark building, he starts to where one of the boats are tied up.

“Hi” he freezes at the familiar voice, turning to eye the cot under the dusty wooden staircase that he had spent many nights on with her. Valerie sit there, leaning against the old sheets, and looking almost embarrassed that he had caught her here.

“Um hi, I thought you were working?” is the only thing he can think to say, straightening his back out a little as he looks at the beautiful girl with furrowed brows.

“I was supposed to, but Levi begged for my shift. Something about working a double so he could get a bit more cash before the end of summer” and now’s it’s Charlie’s turn to look embarrassed, knowing the boy had done that for him after their talk last night. It made him feel even worse for how he had treated the both of them.

“I’m glad you’re here actually” Charlie says, swallowing the lump of guilt away, and Valerie can’t hide the surprised look that crosses her face. “I was going to wait till you got back from work to talk”

“You want to talk?” she sounds hopeful, holding out for the boy and wishing he would finally close the distance between them. The distance she feels even when they’re in the same room.

“Yeah, about everything” Charlie says, walking across the creaky floorboards to the cot she sits on. He looks at the open space beside her and she eagerly nods, indicating he’s allowed to sit.

“Before we start you have to know that’s not how I intended on you ever finding out about me and Levi. You also have to know I haven’t been with him like that for more than a year before I met you. It was a blip in time” she rushes out, desperate for him to know the truth. Charlie can’t help the small smile that tugs at the corner of his lips.

“I know, I more or less wanted to talk about what an idiot I am.” Valerie freezes, gaping like a fish, not expecting these words to come from Charlie. She had planned to grovel, beg for him to forgive her. She wasn’t expecting to hear an apology.

“I don’t know what to say” she whispers out, unable to look at him. Charlie unknowingly scoots closer to her.

“You don’t have to say anything. I should’ve heard you out but I was too stuck in my head. Andy had made so many passing comments about you and Levi, and then I would read too much into things. I think when Levi admitted it I used it as an excuse to leave first” Charlie tells her and Valerie furrows her eyebrows, finally looking into his dough brown eyes.

“Why would you leave first?” she asks, hand falling to his knee and Charlie stares at it so hard his eyes burn.

“I’ve been hurt, a lot in my life by the people I thought would always be there for me. I’ve lost so much and I’m tired of being the one left to wallow in the pain. I knew when summer ended we would to and maybe it was easier if I ended it first” Charlie shrugs and Valerie sighs, finally noticing Charlie was as mysterious as he was because of all the pain he carried around with him. Remnants of a life he wanted to leave behind but carried with him everywhere.

“And how do you feel now?” Valerie can’t help but ask and Charlie finally removes her hand from his knee, lacing it with his own fingers, and lifting his head to look at her.

“That I’m a fool who walked out on the very first girl he ever loved” Valerie sucks in a sharp breath at the admittance, trying her best to not fall into a heap in his arms. The first boy to ever love her, exactly as she was.

“I love you too Charlie” is all she says in response, and finally a real Charlie grin cracks across the boys face. The boy he was always meant to be shining through.

“So you forgive me, for being an idiot?” he asks and Valerie giggles, leaning close and unable to ignoring the happiness bursting inside of her.

“Yes, I did a long time before you ever came in here and apologized" she tells him and Charlies heart somehow softens even more. When Neil had died he had closed everyone from his life, had planned to stay detached, on his own and safe from heart break. Now here he was wearing it on his sleeve like a badge of honor.

"Am I allowed to kiss you now? Because I really, really want to kiss you" Charlie says, finding it hard and harder not to kiss her now that she was this close to him again. Valerie smiles, leaning closer, relishing in the feeling of his touch as if it was the first time all over again.

"Please, I've been dreaming of it since you kissed me under that damn canoe" and Charlie doesn’t need to be told twice as his hand grips the back of her neck, guiding her mouth against his own and breathing her in like he hadn't had a breath of fresh air in months.

Her lips are as soft as he remembers, the faint taste of cherry from her lipgloss invading his senses, and when her tongue curls against his own he’s certain there’s nothing she could do to keep him away again. It’s electric and bittersweet all at the same time. For a moment he imagines following her away from here at the end of camp, what his father’s reaction would be to going to a different school, wasting his whole summer working at this camp just to not go to Columbia. When it had in fact not been a waste, it had been the only thing to bring him back to life. To be the man he once used to be.

“God I missed you” he mutters against her lips when they break apart for air. He hadn’t yet opened his eyes, forehead pressed to her own as he hugs her close. As scary as it was loving someone he could lose, this was worth it all.

“I missed you more, trust me” she says and that makes Charlie grin, kissing her again before finally pulling back to look into her eyes.

“Ezra is going to be quite happy I didn’t entirely screw this up” Charlie tells her, already picturing the man now. The smirk he would give when he finally told him he had worked things out.

“Levi and Chrissy will also love that I’ll be done moping around camp” Valerie agrees and it makes Charlie happy that the girl was finally starting to see Chrissy as a friend.

“I see you and her worked things out” Charlie says more as a statement then question and Valerie nods, smiling a little at the thought she finally had a girl friend.

“Yeah, when I couldn’t fix things with you I figured I’d try with her. Turns out she’s a lot cooler than I ever gave her credit for” Charlie snorts at this response, leaning back against the bed and pulling the brunette girl in his embrace with him.

“Well that’s good, I’m happy everything is finally the way it should be” Charlie says and Valerie looks up at him from his chest, a sly smile on her face.

“Except you and Levi, should probably clear the air there too” she suggests and Charlie chuckles, her head bobbing on his chest with each laugh.

“I already did sweetheart. Last night when he came to talk to me. I have a feeling he didn’t take your shift just for some extra cash” and realization dawns on the girls face, love swelling in her chest for her best friend who had done this for her.

“What a little meddler, and I can’t even be mad” she says and the two laugh together, finally and fully content knowing they had the entire day together.

“He cares about his best friend, he’s a good man” Charlie says, hand rubbing her back as his eyes begin to close. He hadn’t slept much since the night everything went down, but now with Valerie in his arms he feels content enough to rest. Valerie notices and curls against him, happy she found her way back here.

“So are you Charlie” is the last thing she says before they’re both asleep in the comfort of the boathouse and each other.

When Charlie wakes it’s clear that it’s nearing the end of the day. The slowly setting sun shining light beams onto the soft wood of the boathouse. It was the best sleep he had gotten since being here and nothing was more comforting than having Valerie back in his arms. He saw no reason for him to move from this spot, but he was getting hungry, and this cot wasn’t necessarily easy on the back. So he runs his hand along the back of Valerie’s head to wake her.

“V baby, we fell asleep” he whispers and her long lashes flutter against her cheeks, groaning softly as she cranes her neck to look up at him.

“What time is it?” she mutters, voice heavy with slumber and Charlie chuckles as he eyes his watch. 3:45pm shining towards his face.

“Almost four, and I’m starved” Charlie responds, tummy grumbling underneath Valerie with perfect timing. It makes her giggle into his chest and Charlie’s stomach jumps with admiration.

“Well I know everyone was gonna be grilling down by the lake, if that was something you wanted to do?” she asks almost sheepishly, not wanting to push him back into everything so fast. She knows the looks and responses they might get walking back hand and hand. If he wasn’t ready for that she was willing to accept it.

“Yes that’s sounds fun actually. I’ve been really bored and I can only puzzle with Ezra so much” this makes the girl laugh and begin to lift off of him. Charlie watches her with a smile as she slowly straddles his lap and leans down to press a long and sweet kiss to his lips. Not a chance he wasn’t going to bring her back here tonight, he needed her more than anything.

“Alright handsome, let’s go” and that’s how Charlie gets dragged out of bed by his arms, out of the quiet boat house, and in the direction of the lake. He can tell they’re close when the loud laughter and splashing fills the air around them.

When they make it past the clearing it’s no surprise to anyone that Alex is grilling while Andrew stands next to him, monitoring the fire hazard. It’s almost comforting seeing the boy in his infamous Captain hat, grilling some hot dogs. Alice and Chrissy lay on the beach, soaking in the last of the sun rays even though the UV was no longer providing a tan. In the water was Nate, Holly, and Mia. The girls trying to swim but Nate pulls them back by their legs and every time they team up to shove him underwater. It’s all exactly the same and more comforting than Charlie could’ve thought.

“Hey there you guys are! We were about to send the search party out” Chrissy yells from her lounger and Valerie laughs, curling into Charlie’s side a touch closer. Not a single one of them phased to see the pair back together.

“We fell asleep” Valerie explains, walking the boy closer to the group. Charlie ends up next to Alex who lightly pats his back, holding some tongs and nearly missing the burnt hot dogs on the grill.

“A little tired after too much making up?” he asks with a wink, suggestion heavy on his sentence and Charlie just rolls his eyes before rubbing over the hat on his head.

“You’re lucky I missed you Alex” Charlie says, having become fond of the boys different and interesting quirks.

“We missed you to Charles” Alex responds, a happy grin on his face before sipping from the beer sat on the side of the grill.

“Guys, come swimming! The water is great!” Holly calls from the lake just before Nate tackles her under and the group on the small beach laugh, Charlie settling on how nothing had changed, not even for them when they all go their separate ways in the Fall.

“You want to go?” Valerie asks and even though Charlie isn’t wearing a suit, the hopeful look on her face wouldn’t ever make him say no. So he nods, knowing she more than likely had a pretty little suit underneath her clothes. Just as predicted she lifts the fabric of the white dress off her form and lays it along one of the benches, revealing the black bikini, and making Charlie’s throat dry.

“Last one in is a rotten egg!” and then she’s off, rushing down the sand as Charlie struggles with the button on his pants. He shakes his head at the unfair advantage but knows she won’t entirely mind the punishment. So he strips down to his boxers as quick as he can before rushing off after her. Once he’s finally reached her they’re deep enough to tread, his hand catching her arm and pulling her back to him.

“I want a rematch” Charlie tells her once she’s wrapped in his arms and she laughs, shaking her head and fully confident in not giving him one.

“You’re just mad you’re a rotten egg” she tells him and Charlie rolls his eyes before leaning in, desperate to kiss her.

“You’re both rotten eggs” Nate says before shoving them both under before Charlie can kiss her. When they come back up they’re laughing, wiping the water out of theirs eyes.

“Hey who let Alex cook?!” Levi’s voice travels across the lake and there the boy stands free from his double shift and completing the group of friends. It had been a long time since Charlie had been apart of a group of friends.

“Jokes on you cause dinners ready” Alex says to the normal grill cook of the group and Levi just chuckles as Nate and the girls start to swim in shore. When Charlie looks to Valerie he finds her already smiling at him with a soft look in her eyes.

“What?” he asks curiously, pushing some wet hair behind her shoulder and determined to have her sat in his lap at a campfire by the end of tonight.

“Nothing, I’m just really happy” she says and Charlie smiles, finally pulling her in for that kiss and feeling the ease in his heart from being content for the first time in a very, very long time. They’re cut off by the cheering coming from the beach, their friends all hooting and hollering.

“Alright love birds, bring it in” Levi calls to them and the pair smiles, swimming into their friends and counting on the rest of summer to be just as good as this.

“Okay who ate half a hot dog bun?”

Taglist: @eden-punk @octaviasdread @pursuedbyamemoryy @poetsinnyc @linmichea1

Comment if you want to be added to the taglist :))

[captainlunaxmen]

All for the Cameras

Chapter 3

Finnick Odair x reader

This is a repost since the old blog doesn't work anymore. 🥰

Chapter summary: the plan is in motion

Chapter warnings: prostitution, drug use (on the bad guy, but still)

Masterlist

It's been a month since the talk with Plutarch... and I still can't believe it.

The rebellion is actually happening, district 13 still exists!

These are the thoughts that keep my mind sane. Plutarch said we need to be careful, he might have a plan... but we need people we can trust.

Of course.

I try to think of some people that would gladly help and that can be also trusted while I walk into the building Cal lives in. Unfortunately the rebellion hasn't properly started and I still have "duty" to do.

I take a deep breath as I enter the elevator and close my eyes for a moment, enough time for another person to enter with me. And I already know who this is.

"Finnick," I nod my head greeting him and open my eyes as the doors close.

"Sweetheart," he sends me one of his charming smile and nods his head too.

The ride to the last floor is pretty long and slow, it gives time for a small, awkward silence to fall for a while before Finnick speaks up.

"I heard... you know." He says, hands behind his back casually.

"Everybody knows apparently..." I sigh.

"Yeah... people can't stop talking about it. The talk of the town."

"If he wanted it to be a surprise, well, oops" I roll my eyes.

"He's been..." he pauses for a moment, shakes his head and looks up with an angry smile.

"What?" I press, "more possessive? More obsessed?"

"Yeah, since you left for the Victory tour he..." he starts, but I cut him off immediately.

"No, he's been like this since that day," I say, I feel him looking at me, but I don't have the heart of looking back.

"Do.... do you think he heard it?" He hesitantly asks, lowering his voice too, "there's no way he could've heard..."

"He must've. That's the only explanation." I tell him, lowering my own voice. "You chose the worse time of all."

"Well, I'm sorry... okay? I... wasn't thinking," he apologies.

"Clearly." I take another deep breath before speaking again, "you know sometimes I try to come out with as many way of killing him I can. Each of them ends up with me getting caught, because unfortunately he is who he is... but it helps."

"How many did you get last time?" He asks, a hint of an amused smile on his face.

"I think... uh... 6," I say, "oh no, 7... almost forgot about the spoon one."

He actually laughs and it helps me too, knowing that in the end we're on the same boat.

"I think... 13 would've been better." He says, he kind of emphasises the number. That makes my head turn to him, him already looking at me with a serious expression.

Could it be..?

So I dare ask.

"Did you talk to Plutarch?"

I see him opening his mouth to answer, but before anything could come out of it, the elevator's doors open and we are greeted by Cal himself ready with two glasses of wine.

"Welcome back, my lovelies." He cheers and he hands us the drinks, "finally all together. C'mon, c'mon."

As we enter his huge apartment I try to look at Finnick to get that answer, he does look at me, but I can't understand.

"Alright, let's sit for a bit, uh?" Cal lead us to his living room, motioning to a huge wooden table... with only two seats...

Cal take a seat and looks at us, expecting.

"Uhm... should I go get another seat or..?" Finnick tries to take it lightly, but one thing is worse than having to spend the night with Cal Kingslay... not knowing what Cal Kingslay has in store.

"Oh no need, c'mon Finnick sit." Cal tells him and Finnick obeys, looking at me confused.

"And.. what about me?" I ask, also trying to play it cool.

"Oh before you sit," Cal stands up to come up to me, it takes everything in me not to take a step back... or even run, "I got a little gift for you. It's in the bedroom."

"Aw.. that's sweet, but you really shouldn't have." I say, hoping he doesn't feel the tremble in my voice.

"We have to make up for lost time, sweetheart. Now go, then come back here." He instructs.

"Sure..." I fake smile at him, steal a quick glance at a tense Finnick and head to the bedroom.

The bedroom, just as huge, hosts a big round bed, a small couch in front of it and nothing much else. I notice a package on the bed, I go to open and find... of course...

I scoff as I look at the deep red lingerie set he bought me. I put it on, constantly rolling my eyes, the only act of defiance I can afford, I wear the matching rope and head back to the living room.

"Oh look at her!" Cal exclaims as I near, "I knew that was your color. Isn't she a beauty, Finnick?"

"Yes." Is all Finnick says, his eyes fixed on me with a loving, yet sad, expression in them.

Cal suddenly grabs my hand and pull me to him, making me sit in his lap.

"Alright, now let's chat a little." He says as his hands caress my thighs and sides, whatever he could touch, "I really want to know what happened on this tour."

"Well... nothing much, really. Usual tour... with two victors, but the usual," I laugh it off, putting my hands on Cal's in a poor attempt of keeping them steadier.

I look at Finnick, who's even more tense than before, eyes locked on Cal's hands on me.

"So nothing happened?" Cal presses, grip getting tighter, " nothing? Not even with Peeta Mellark?"

I actually laugh at that.

"With Peeta?" I ask, "why?"

"At the party, at the President's residence, the way he touched you..." he holds me tighter.

"He just wanted to dance, Cal... he's so in love with Katniss, he doesn't look at anyone else." I try to chuckle to make him see how absurd his assumptions are.

"Then why not ask any other woman there?" He keeps holding me.

I look at Finnick, who's ready to jump into action, but at the same time knows he can't do anything.

"Because he's shy." I say, "he might seem like an outgoing guy, but he's really not. He asked me probably because I'm his friend. " I try to stress the word 'friend' to make him understand.

"Yeah, I got to talk to him for a few minutes when they were in 4, he didn't talk much, only awkwardly smiled and let out just a few words." Finnick lies, and thanks to that Cal lets go a little, going back at caressing my thighs. I look at Finnick grateful and he slightly nods.

"You have a talent in making people feel at ease with you, don't you?" Cal compliments and rest his chin on my shoulder, "I really missed you. Did you miss me too?"

"Oh, but of course," I fake another smile as he starts to kiss my neck.

His kisses get more heated as he goes, I look everywhere except Finnick, I can't stand it, not after last time.

"Mmh, fuck," he breaths out, "you smell so good, my sweetness, let's go to the bedroom, shall we, lovelies?"

Cal doesn't give me any time to stand up, he picks me up and, bridal style, he takes me to the bedroom, followed by Finnick.

Cal gently puts me on the bed, goes and sits down on the small couch.

"Take your clothes of, Finnick, leave your underwear on," he instructs, getting comfortable on the couch.

Finnick does as he was told, standing only in his underwear. He's surely been working out while I was gone...

"I want you on your knees in front of her," Cal orders him, "and you, my precious princess, spread those legs for him, okay?"

Finnick comes kneel in front of me, I spread my legs to let him in, avoiding his eyes, that, I know are on me.

"Oh that's good." Cal praises, "now, touch her."

I softly gasp at feeling Finnick's hand on my thigh.

"Not too much, Finnick, you know the rules. No kissing unless I say so."

Finnick only nods and keeps on caressing my tigh bringing it a little closer so his face lightly touches it.

"Look at him, sweetheart, look at him,"

This is how these meetings usually go: Cal tells us how he wants to see us, what he wants us to do, sometimes he just likes to watch and sometimes he like to "play" too.

I don't know if he's so delusional to think we too enjoy this or he just loves control so much that he doesn't care at all.

That's how the "date" went, all night.

Cal enjoying his power over us, he particularly enjoyed teasing Finnick.

"How does it feel like? Knowing she'll never be yours?" He would ask. "You wouldn't be able to touch her if it wasn't for me," "You'll never see her unless I say so." And so on...

"I'll see you soon, my loves," Cal says, leading us back to the elevator, his hand in mine.

"It's never going to be too soon," Finnick's charming smile seems to convince him.

"Never," I agree as we're standing in front of the elevator.

Cal spins me around and kisses me. I'm so stunned, I don't even reciprocate until he squeezes my waist.

"I could never get enough of that," Cal humms, letting me go.

"Feeling's mutual," I say turning around, grateful for the doors to open in that moment.

"Bye bye" he waves and we do the same, keeping up our fake smiles until the doors finally close.

"Oh fuck..." I let out a sigh of relief and unconsciously lean against Finnick's taller frame, who gently wraps an arm around me.

"Feeling's mutual," Finnick says, sighing too.

"Okay... uh... listen," I start, pulling away from his embrace, "we do need to find a way to talk. This ride might be long, but it's not enough..."

"I know... I might have an idea, but you'll have to trust me," he tells me confidently.

"What is it?" I ask.

"Trust me, alright?"

I sigh, but nod.

"Main things... uh... did you talk to Plutarch then?"

"That I did, asked for my company, I thought he was one of the usual stuff, but thankfully it wasn't." He tells me, "you?"

"Same thing, do you know anyone else... knowing?" I ask.

"There are lots of victors who might be involved, but I can't say for sure..." he speaks quietly, "maybe Johanna..."

"Definitely believable," I comment, "you know, I think Haymitch too.. both him and Plutarch said the same exact thing to me and... it just makes sense."

"What about the lovebirds?" He says making quotations with his fingers as he says 'lovebirds'.

"I don't think so..." I shake my head, "Katniss is too focused on wanting to protect her family, to think of a rebellion."

"Alright... it's still a start, don't you think?" He smiles at me.

"Yeah..." I say bitterly.

"What's that tone?" He's concern now.

"Nothing... I just don't want to keep my hopes up, you know?" I look down at my hands, avoiding his eyes.

"Hey... C'mon, look at me, Y/n." He gently takes my hand and pulls me to him.

I reluctantly, but not so much, look up at him, at his reassuring eyes. Sometimes all I want to do is get lost in them and never find my way back, but it's a luxury I can't afford, not right now.

I shake my head turning away from him.

"Listen... I want to hope we might have a shot, okay? I really do... it's just hard after everything," I say, bouncing my leg.

"I know," he sighs, "but, I mean, we've been hoping this whole time... might as well keep it up."

"I guess..." I smile at him, losing myself again in his eyes, I see him leaning closer, but I stop him, I have to. "Don't."

"I'm sorry..." he awkwardly smiles, "don't push me away like this." He whispers, cautiously taking my hand again, "Please."

"We can't... uh... I don't feel the same way... and... you should..." I stutter out, focusing on our hands instead of his face.

"You know you can't like to me, I know you all too well, love," he chuckles and I shake my head.

"We can't," I say and luckily the doors open and I rush out leaving Finnick behind.

I walk as fast as I can to the car, hoping to get home faster so I can freely cry and scream.

Once I get home I jump on my bed, burying my face in the pillows and just let everything out.

Of all people... why him? Love is so unfair...

No... no, not love... this is not love... I'm not in love with him and he is not in love with me.

That was just a trauma response... yes... yes. Nothing more.

He can't actually love me. If he actually did he could get killed because of it... but if it's not actual love, he's safe... yeah, yeah, he's safe. Nothing to worry about...

This is all I think about as I cry myself to sleep.

----------

"You said what?" I almost yell at Plutarch, almost because I don't want to risk being heard.

"He has to trust me. I can't just say 'leave her alone people will forget about her', can I?" Plutarch sighs, pouring whiskey into my glass, which I gladly take.

"I guess not," I let out a sigh, tapping nervously my glass, "what if you're right, though? What if they actually arrive to hate her so much to kill her themselves?"

"Do you think that would happen?" He asks, knowing already my answer.

"No..." I sit back down, "no, sorry, I'm just... scared shitless, alright?"

He nods understanding.

"I need to ask you one thing, miss L/n, and I need you to be honest," He says and I nod for him to ask away, "do you trust me?"

I look at him properly, trying to see if in his eyes there's even a tiny bit of malice.

"I do." I say.

"Good. There will be some things you shouldn't know, not because you might get caught, but because some things will require a genuine reaction from you," he explains with a serious tone.

"I understand." I nod, "Yeah, no problem. I just hope I would be able to help despite Cal" I say his name with a disgusted noise.

"We'll deal with that too," he reassures me with a small smile.

"Thanks," I say drinking some whiskey, "this thing will never happen too soon."

"I know,"

"May I ask... why do you trust me?" I ask, "I mean, to everyone's eyes I'm Snow's protégé... why do you trust me?"

"Haymitch Abernathy doesn't just trust anyone." Is his simple answer, "I'm sure you know that."

I nod, satisfied with the answer.

"They will send more peacekeepers to 12 tomorrow." He tells me.

"Yeah? I'm sure they're eager to start with the punishments" I comment bitterly.

"Yep."

"Katniss won't just stand there and watch." I warn him.

"I know," he says confidently.

I scan his face, he's not worried about it, he's certain and confident as if he planned it.

"You hope she does something," I accuse.

"Haymitch was right about you," he lightly chuckles, "you are smart."

"Don't change the subject, Heavensbee. This is an opportunity, isn't it?" I ask again, he nods, "if Katniss is the fighter I know she is... you'll get your opportunity."

"We'll get our opportunity," he corrects me raising his glass and I do the same.

"I hope you're right about this rebellion, Heavensbee. I really hope." I say and take a sip of whiskey.

And Katniss did something, indeed. It helped that her best friend was the one getting punished. The fact that both Haymitch and Peeta intervened was even better apparently, according to Plutarch. This is one of the parts of the plan I can't know apparently, but he seemed confident so I trust him...

Hope.

We're all depending on that.

-----------

"We'll finally be able to talk tonight," Finnick whispers to me as we stand in the elevator.

"How?" I ask, confused about what he has in mind.

He smiles and shows me what's inside a little bag he brought. A bottle of wine.

"You're gonna drug him?" I ask shocked.

"A tiny bit," he chuckles, "he'll also need to eat this," he shows me a small box of chocolates, "the drug will activate with both, the wine alone is ineffective."

"Yeah... because not drinking would feel suspicious, but we never eats so if we say no to the chocolate... no problem at all," I reason, "genius."

"I have my moments," he smiles proudly and I return the smile.

"I thought..." he clears his voice, "I thought we could also talk about... us?"

"Finnick..." I warn.

"We would have time..." he insists.

"There's no us, okay? Stop it." I sternly say.

"Keeo telling yourself that," he whispers.

From there the ride is silent until we arrive at Cal's apartment.

"Good evening, loves!" He greets us as usual, "how are my favourite people?"

"A little tired, you know, Snow wanted me to check some old records" I lie, not completely I really am tired, but of him.

"I'm actually fresh as a flower," Finnick starts, "I actually would like to celebrate,"

"Oh really?" Cal asks and grabs my hand to pull me to him.

"Yeah, I found this old bottle of fine wine in my home and I thought 'what better time to drink it if not with Cal Kingslay?', you know?" He takes the bottle out and soon after the box.

"And that?" Cal's intrigued.

"Oh this is a special gift for you, to thank you for your generosity," Finnick's ability to lie and charm him leave me stunned everytime.

"Aw that's sweet of you," Cal takes both the bottle and the box, "we'll share the box, loves."

"Oh, Cal, I'm sorry, but I'll have to gently decline, I ate so much today. Maybe later, okay?" I use the sweetest voice I can as he puts the objects on the table. I try to ignore how Finnick's jaw tense when I do this.

"Whatever you say, princess, as long as you say my name like that..." he turns to me wrapping both arms around my waist to pull me completely against his body.

"Alright, big guy," I try to nonchalantly pull away from him, "let's toast, shall we?"

"Of course!" Cal exclaims, taking the bottle and sending a grateful nod at Finnick. He goes to pour three glasses, "to what should we toast?"

"How about the Quartel Quell?" Finnick asks as he takes the glass from Cal's hand.

"Love that!" Cal cheers handing me a glass too, "here, princess."

"Thank you, Cal," I say, using his name again for good measure and he grins at that.

"To the third Quarter Quell!" Cal raises his glass and we quickly follow.

One each of us took a sip of wine, Finnick goes to open the box, offering it to Cal.

"Here."

"Oh so kind," Cal smirks, "you don't mind if I take two, do you?"

"Oh, but of course not, take as many as you want," Finnick gives him his usual charming smile as Cal takes two chocolates.

"You know I love sweets," Cal says putting both candy in his mouth, "mmh! So good!"

"Old recipe," Finnick explains.

I watch the scene, tense, I hope Finnick's plan works...

Not even moment later, Cal goes to sit holding his head.

"Hey, something wrong?" I fake concern.

"No... no I'm good," Cal tries to stand up again, but apparently his legs can't hold him up.

"Alright, let's get you to bed. Maybe you're just a little more tired than you think," I say, he let me help him to bed.

"Fuck..." he groans, once he's laying down, "I was really in the mood,"

"Don't worry, rest a bit, and if you feel like it later... we're here," I reassure him, but actually hoping he won't.

"Thank you, my love," he says drifting off to sleep.

I cautiously walks back out of the room and back to Finnick.

He looks at me with expectation written all over his face.

"He's asleep," I whisper, with the biggest smile.

"Yes!" He whisper-shouts.

"God... I wish we could do it every single time," I sigh relieved.

"Unfortunately he would get suspicious, but it's a nice dream," Finnick agrees.

"How much time do you think we have?" I ask sitting with him at the table.

"About... 2 hour and a half... maybe more since he took two chocolates," he explains.

"That's great... this might mean we wouldn't even have to do anything at all..." I chuckle and Finnick does too.

"Alright..." he lowers his voice, "I'm pretty sure, a very good part of the Victors are part of this thing"

"Well, Haymitch for sure... but I don't think he will let Katniss and Peeta know anything," I tell him.

"Why not?" He asks frowning.

"Katniss is basically supervised everywhere she goes... it would be too risky..." I explain simply, "do you know what happened today?"

"What?"

"New Peacemakers arrived in 12," I start, "Plutarch suggested more severe punishments,"

"What? Why?" Finnick almost exclaims, there's a deeper frown on his face now.

"It's a way to let himself in, Snow will never trust him otherwise." I sigh, "it sucks, I know. If Snow grows suspicious, we're fucked."

"I know," he sounds defeated.

"But the thing is," I start again, "this, according to Plutarch, created a perfect opportunity. He was so confident today when I saw him leaving a meeting with Snow, I think the plan is in motion."

" I can't fucking believe," he genuinely smiles, "it's really happening... and I mean, can you believe 13 is still alive?"

"I know!" I exclaim in a whisper, I wish I could just shout it sometimes, "it's crazy."

"You know... for the first time I saw some hope in Mags and not just defeat."

I smile at that, I know how important Mags is for him. When I was assigned to assisting district 4's mentors, Mags was always so kind to us... treating us like family.

"That's really nice to hear," I softly say, gently putting a hand on top of his.

He waits a moment before covering my hand with his other one, stroking it gently. I really should pull away, but this gentle, genuine touch is something I haven't felt in a long time. I look up, Finnick's already looking my way with a soft smile.

"You know, I can't wait." He says.

"For..." I clear my voice, "for what?"

"Finally kiss you." He simply states.

"Finnick... for the millionth time..."

"You don't feel the same... yeah, yeah, yeah." He interrupts me, standing up and taking me with him, "you can lie to yourself, but not to me. What I feel for you is-"

"Is not real." It's my turn to interrupt him.

"Oh yeah? Why's that?" He challenges.

"Oh god..." I let out a frustrated sigh, "it's just trauma response, okay? You don't love me, Finn. And I don't love you."

"Okay... so... why didn't you pull away yet and you're letting me, basically, cuddle you?" He challenges again, this actually makes me notice how close we are and how his hands are gently caressing and massaging my body.

I instantly pull away, earning a small laugh from him.

"You really need to stop it," I say, to convince myself, rather than him.

"But you're just so beautiful," he smirks, but it not like Cal's smirk... it's playful, he's not making me uncomfortable, he's just teasing, I know that if he actually made me uncomfortable he would stop right away.

"Alright, stop it." I can't help but let out a chuckle.

"You don't believe yourself either... C'mon." He walks closer to me, "dance with me."

"There's not music and I don't think putting something on will help our case with the sleeping beauty," I remind him.

"Just dance with me, c'mon, love," he holds his hand out for me to take and I do. I let him pull me to him and slowly moving to an imaginary rhythm.

He holds me to me him with so much care I could just melt here and now. I have to admit, it does feel nice.

I just keep reminding myself that it's not love, but two people comforting each other... right?

Right?

As I let Finnick lead, my mind can't help but go to next week event... the announcement of the third Quarter Quell... and my engagement.

I try to shake away the thought and focus on Finnick's body close to mine, how his taller frame is not imposing or constricting, but protective.

I try to focus on the fact that Plutarch's plan is probably going to work... hope.

All I focus about: hope and Finnick.

I'm afraid the two aren't so different for me.

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

The crowd is cheering like never before.

It's the announcement of the third Quarter Quell, after all.

I watch Snow taking his place in front of all Capitol's citizens, I sit with the rest of 'Capitol's elite' in the back, waiting for the big theme of this year's games.

I can't help but slightly bounce my leg, knowing what's coming after that.

"Are you okay, my sweetness?" Cal's voice startles me, I almost forgot he was next to me.

"Yeah," I force out a smile, "just excited to discover the theme of this year,"

"Plutarch didn't tell you?" He asks taken aback, "I thought he wanted you as an assistant, maybe he didn't have the chance yet... I hope I didn't ruin any surprise,"

"Oh, don't worry, Cal," I say, "I'll try to act surprised."

He smiles at me and I now try to contain my excitement, real excitement. Plutarch did find a way of creating chances for me to stay away from Cal.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," Snow starts and my attention is back on him, "This is the 75th year of the Hunger Games" he announces and che crowd cheers and screams, "and it was written in the charter of the Games that every 25 years, there would be a Quarter Quell to keep fresh for each new generation the memory of those who died in the uprising against The Capitol. Each Quarter Quell is distinguished by Games of a special significance. And now on this, the 75th anniversary of pur defeat of the rebellion, we celebrate the third Quarter Quell..." as the crowd cheers again, Snow takes out a chard, "... as a reminder that even the strongest cannot overcome the power of the Capitol."

Wait...

"On this, the third Quarter Quell Games, the male and female Tributes"

I don't like this...

"Are to be reaped from the existing pool of Victors in each district."

I can't help my shocked expression, what...? I try to look for Plutarch, but I can't see him.

"Victors shall present themselves on Reaping Day, regardless of age, state of health or situation."

This is the last place I want to be right now, i can't even listen to any more words from the President's mouth.

I don't even know what to think... if this is Plutarch's idea, I really don't know what he thinks he would get from it...

Oh god...

Finnick...

Finnick said a good part of the Victors are part of this rebellion... maybe that's what Plutarch has in mind.

Fuck.

I snap back at the present when I feel Cal's hand touching mine.

"And now," Snow's voice completely grounds be back, "our very own, Cal Kingslay, would like to say a few words,"

Cal stands up and joins Snow at the front.

"Thank you, president. It's an honour being here today, to celebrate this very special third Quarter Quell," the crowd applauses, "and... I want to thank every single person here today for the support they showed after my father's passing. So I thought to share the following moment with you all,"

My chest tightens, my heart is pounding inside so much it feel like it's about to explode... and I would be glad if it happened.

"There's one person, who's always being there for me... she's the one who always knows hot to make me smile, I only need to think of her and I'm suddenly a lot better... that is why..."

He turns around and walks towards me, my eyes are wide open. I try to make it seems like I'm excited and not absolutely terrified.

He comes in fron of me and goes down on one knee.

"Shit.." I breath out. He nervously smile as he takes something from his jacket.

The interaction would've felt like a very sweet moment... in other circumstances.

"So, Y/n L/n would you give me the honour of becoming my wife?" He asks, opening a small box revealing a silver ring with a stone embedded.

He looks at me and I look at Snow, who's looking at me with a look I know all too well.

"Do it or there would be consequences."

I look back at Cal and move my hand to make him stand, I don't think I would be able to speak without betraying myself, so... I kiss him.

[luminouslywriting]

Chapter 2: Toccoa, Georgia (The Prophecy)—A Band of Brothers Fanfic

A/N: I am so so so so SO sorry this is out late. This past week was super hectic! I hope that you really enjoy the chapter. I did my best to make it my own and different from other beginnings of BoB that I've seen, so you'll have to let me know what you think! Also, as a side note—I did, in fact, live in Toccoa area for 13 weeks a couple years back, so I actually do love that place!

Winnie could say that she had never been to Toccoa Georgia for any reason in her short lifetime and would probably have no desire to ever return. Though there wasn’t any snow on the ground here, it was just as gloomy as the rest of Georgia was in the winter months.  Everywhere she looked, there were men in uniforms and people bustling towards the wartime factories that had popped up.  

Her arrival at Camp Toccoa was a rather quiet affair, and so there she sat in a wooden chair inside a small waiting area.  Occasionally, Winnie glanced over at the precipitation building on the windows.  When she was a kid, she had long periods of waiting like this one—where her father was in jail or at some bar and she would just wait for him to come back home. 

It would usually rain—and considering how the weather in Georgia changed as quickly as a summer breeze, Winnie had taken to counting droplets of water as a way to keep her focus on something that she could control. 

The simple fact of the matter was that Winnie had precious little control over a lot of the circumstances in her life.  But the things that she did have control over, she kept those things close to her chest; clung to them like they were her most precious possessions and no one would ever come close enough to take that freedom of control away from her again. 

She clicked her heeled shoes together exactly once, eyes straying to the scuff marks on her simple church shoes.  She wondered how her brothers were all faring in their training at the moment.  If they were all coping with the reality of what war would be—if they were prepared to go and be on their own. 

Richie wasn’t the one she was worried about.  He was two years younger than her and was always rather serious.  He worked harder than anyone else that she knew and wasn’t one to get distracted by a pretty face or lofty promises.  Any day now, he’d be shipping out to go to the Pacific as a Marine and it made her truthfully want to follow him all the way down there and have his back with a gun herself.  

They were Allens.  And they trusted themselves and one another.  No one else outside of their circle of siblings had proven to be someone that they would trust their lives with.  But Winnie knew that they would never allow a doctor—and a female one, at that—to go down to the Pacific and be a part of the carnage and horrors there. 

Robbie was in the same boat, proverbially speaking of course, as Richie.  Set to go to the Pacific in a few weeks.  He was always so quiet and watchful.  Winnie hoped that it would serve him well to be on his guard and pick up on the things that the other soldiers wouldn't notice.  They had yelled a lot back and forth before he had enlisted—she had told him to finish his degree and go into the JAG-Corp.  He had told her to go to hell—which he had tearfully apologized for when she dropped him off at the train station.  

Winnie stretched out her fingers over her lap, letting out a breath.  It had been nearly thirty minutes of waiting to be allowed to see the Colonel—and this was just for him to review her application to join the Paratroopers as a Doctor and training officer for his medics.  She wished that the level of urgency the war truly had would transfer over to her wait time. 

Because if she needed to haul everything back to Buford, Winnie would almost certainly rather pick up and move to the Carolinas and try to sign up for a different branch of the military that would, in fact, utilize her. She hated being idle—hated being alone, even more than that.  

The younger three boys were the ones that needed supervision—needed all the prayers of the good congregation of Buford’s Christian Non-Denominational Church.  Nathan was the first problem in Winnie’s pleas to God.  That boy had been raised wolf-wild by herself and Richie and Robbie.  They hadn’t been much, but they had had each other.  He was always picking a fight with an older boy—and she could only hope that this whole army experience was going to straighten him out.   

Then there was Joshua, also set to end up in the Pacific as a medic.  That had granted her a degree of peace, knowing that his evenings helping her study for school were going to come in handy where he was going.  It might, in fact, just be the thing that ends up saving his life.  

But Charlie? Charlie was, in every sense of the word, hers.  She had raised him from the time of his infancy and so to Winnie Allen, Charlie was her child.  Currently, he was in Texas and Winnie had never been more grateful for the fact that the Air Force programs were long.  She would take those 9 months like a sacred gift from God that he wouldn’t be anywhere near the fighting—at least for a short while. 

And then there was her.  Just her—with no idea where she’d end up, with no clue what her side of the war would entail.  Which of course, would be typical of her life thus far. 

Just then, the door opened and a man stepped inside, clipboard in hand.  “Dr. Allen?” 

“That’d be me,” Winnie said, rising to her feet. 

The man piqued an eyebrow, but said nothing about the fact that she was a woman.  He just let out a weary sigh and gestured towards the door with his head.  “If you’d follow me, ma’am.” 

Of course, a moment ago she was Doctor, and now she was ma’am.  God, she loathed the South.  

Winnie obliged, following after the man with quick steps.  As they crossed out of the building and onto a dirt path, Winnie caught sight of some of the trainees—some of them in the field and doing jumping jacks in the field, some of them running towards a trail through the trees.  There weren’t too many of them at the moment, but that didn’t deter Winnie in any way. 

“Are these the officers that are in training?” Winnie questioned, speeding up her stride to match the man in front of her. 

He let out an annoyed breath.  “You catch on quick.  Sink will like that.  Though I can’t account for how he’ll feel about a woman applying to train our medics.” 

“I’m a trauma surgeon and doctor.  I think my credentials speak for themselves,” Winnie retorted dryly. 

No response from the officer this time, just a huff of air as he came to a stop in front of one of the buildings on the camp.  “Wait here, please.” 

Winnie just crossed her arms and waited patiently, inhaling the cool air.  Not even thirty seconds later, the man had returned and gestured for her to enter the room.  Winnie was grateful for the slight reprieve from the cold air as she entered the room.  And there, sitting in a chair and smoking a cigar, was Colonel Sink. 

“If you’d please take a seat, Doctor Allen,” he gestured at the seat across from his desk with his cigar.  Usually quick to follow orders, Winnie slid into the seat, looking at Colonel Sink expectantly.  It was another moment of silence before Colonel Sink set down his cigar and fully looked at her.  “I’ll be honest, we don’t see too many female doctors come through the military.” 

“I expect you’d see more nurses, sir.” 

“Damn right, we do,” Sink stated.  “This whole war—unpleasant business, not really meant for women.” 

“If I can speak freely, sir?” 

“I’d be appreciative of the honesty, if you did.” 

“You’re right, it’s unpleasant.  But those women are still going to bury husbands, sons, brothers, and fathers.  It affects them just as much as it does the men.” 

“I can’t say I disagree.  Your point?” 

“I’m not a married woman.  I’m a trauma surgeon and head of the trauma department in Buford General.  I was the top of my class and as it so happens, I don’t have any children or brothers—they’re all off in training to fight in this war.  I don’t particularly like sitting on my ass or fancy myself a factory worker.  But I can help you train damn good medics, sir.” 

Sink stared at her for a long time.  His gaze reminded her a lot of her mentor’s, from back in college.  He was always trying to figure out her angles too.  Trying to figure out if she was as good as she claimed to be. 

“I’ll be honest with you, Allen.  We’ve got hundreds—thousands—of men coming in the next few months to train to be paratroopers.  Now I want them to be the best of the best.  And if I want them to survive more than five minutes over there, then that means I also need the best of the best doctors to train my medics.  So I’ll concede to your point.  Your application was good—I’m a self-made man myself and I respect that work.” 

“Sir?” 

“But I’ll also be honest with you.  This isn’t going to be pretty.  It’s going to be bloody and long and tiring.  This isn’t the type of place where you can just escape from whatever life you don’t want to live.  At some point, you might be elbows deep in some man’s guts and I need someone unflinching.” 

“October 27th.” 

“Pardon?” 

Winnie shifted in her seat, leaning forward.  “October 27th, a man and his two daughters are brought into Buford General.  Automobile accident.  The man flung his arm in front of his daughter sitting in the passenger seat.  His arm was hanging by a few strands of muscles and he was going to bleed out.  Now the daughter in the passenger seat got impaled by a fence post—it went straight through her stomach.  The daughter in the back was flung through the car and landed 15 feet ahead.” 

“That’s both gruesome and tragic.   Your point being?” 

“I was the surgeon on call that night.  I triaged.  I assessed.  I delegated.  The father lost his arm but he kept his life.  The daughter who flew through the car wasn’t going to make it.  She was 11.  We were short-handed and I had to tell the nurse assisting me that the little girl wasn’t going to make it and that she needed to focus on the other one.  So she did.  We lost the one—but she was mostly gone by the time she had arrived,” Winnie stated.  “My point here is that I can give your men skills that they won’t get anywhere otherwise.  Real life experience teaching practical application of the skills.  Triaging, assessing, not hesitating in doing the work and saving lives.” 

Sink leaned forward in his seat.  “You’d be hard on them?” 

“I’d be brutal. Because that is exactly what they are going to face out there.” 

“You be the hard-ass doctor that trains my medics, then.  But if you’re gonna be here, then you’re gonna train like my men train.” 

“I’m not a fragile southern belle like Melanie Hamilton, sir.” 

“No, I imagine you’re not.  I’ll give you two nurses to assist with actual injuries on base—and based on performance, you and them might just end up traveling with us wherever we end up.” 

“Sir?” 

“What?” 

“Thank you for letting me advocate my case.  I won’t let you down.” 

“You sure as hell better not.  Or lots of good men are going to die and that’s going to be on your shoulders.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Within the first hour of being there, Winnie had selected her nurses from the pile of applications.  It hadn’t been that hard of a choice to begin with—some were just practical eliminations, and the rest were a careful read-through of letters they had sent in along with the application.  

Reba Garrett and Eileen Gray were the two chosen candidates that she had landed on.  Reba was from New England and had been working as a nurse for well over five years now, placing her as one of the older and more experienced women applying for the position.  But it wasn’t her experience that attracted Winnie’s attention—it was the letter, and the way in which she described wanting to do some real good in the war and that started with saving lives rather than ending them. 

That sounded exactly like the type of person that Winnie wanted to have on her side.  

Eileen, on the other hand, was from Savannah, Georgia.  While her experience time of only two years wasn’t quite as well-established as Reba’s was, it was the picture that she had included of her brother that caught Winnie’s attention.  Eileen’s brother had been stationed in Pearl and he had been one of the many men to be immortalized under the ocean there. 

That gave her motivation, it gave her righteous anger—and in Winnie’s eyes, it was exactly the sort of thing that God would do—place Eileen in her path to ensure that justice was seen. 

So Winnie penned her first letters to the two women that would soon be joining her here in Toccoa.  And then she took those resumes straight to Colonel Sink—who wholeheartedly approved of the decision, though it was made in haste.  Just another reason for him to see her as a capable doctor—as someone he could trust. 

And in two weeks time, Eileen Gray and Reba Garrett would be joining her at Camp Toccoa.  In the meantime though, Winnie’s own training was set to begin.  And she’d be damned if she let herself be torn down by any man—her superior officer or not.  She was determined to earn her place amongst the men here—and earn their respect.  Consequences be damned. 

[lunarubra]

Pairing: Cillian x OC (Jiyan Fabris)

Summary: Just more Jiyan shenanigans where she cannot avoid to include Cillian.

Warning: Mention of Death, Fluff, English not my First Language.

Words: 4471

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Part 4 - Whispers of the Waves

The thing about building furniture was that, when in the middle of it, it was really necessary to have a stable mind to understand where it all begins and where it all ends. Also because most of the time the plans never really work out.

Jiyan was good at planning; planning was at the core of her being. Wanted to start a study and translation from a Greek text dated to 300 B.C., you needed a plan. Or, you were living on a boat and wanted to organise a basic dinner, a plan there would be helpful.  Still needed to build a series of kitchen cabinets, shelves, and drawers because she still was living in the middle of a construction site, ta-dan, you needed a plan.

So she was quite disappointed when, after a whole morning and most of the afternoon of work, she did not consider that being just one person— even if a really crafty person—still would not solve the fact that the whole kitchen counter was a single piece of wood weighing too much to even consider moving it on her own. And apparently continuing to stare at it would not solve the problem either.

In this instance, she missed her brother. It would have been so easy to bully him into helping her. Sadly, he was on the other side of the continent.

It was a cloudy Sunday afternoon in Dublin, and for once, the weather was not completely depressing. It was one of those days that Jiyan started to classify as “yes, it is still cloudy and there is no sun, but it could be much worse.” Who knew, before the end of her contract maybe she would start to enjoy this characteristic weather of Ireland.

Still, she was in a dilemma and would love to find a solution. After months of cooking on a camping gas stove and a wood stove, having a final functional kitchen would be quite an achievement.

If it hadn't been Sunday, she would have just asked Sean from the garage shop downstairs. After a couple of months, they had reached quite an understanding; he wasn't a man of many words, but Jiyan started to appreciate his silences while he helped her move materials or simply checked in on how she was doing in that small studio with ongoing renovations. She also suspected he knew what happened that night at Connor’s; the pub was just around the corner from there, and Sean did not live far from his shop.

It was during the week that she met Cillian again, the same week that Sean one morning just showed up, telling her that a guy would come later to change all the locks on the door and giving her his mobile phone again, saying that if something happened and she needed help, she could always call; he and his wife were only 15 minutes away.

But still, it was Sunday, and she didn't have the courage to call him because the kitchen counter table was too heavy. So, she was back to where she started.

Seated there on the floor, staring at the wooden countertop, Jiyan began to reflect on the past few weeks. It was the first time in the last year that she could finally feel some of the weight on her chest dissipating.

She had started to appreciate working at the university again, something that had become somewhat performative for a while. She had finally connected with her colleagues, most of them professors or researchers, but from quite an international background. She particularly bonded with a very smart colleague in the department of Ancient Languages, an expert in Old Gaelic named Scott, who had lived in London for years before recently relocating back to Ireland.

However, most of her social time was spent in a rather Irish fashion, at the pub with Cillian, or even going out and exploring Dublin with him. They had gotten to know each other well, and it didn’t take long for them to become quite close and truly enjoy spending time together. After that evening at the pub, he had invited her to a small concert where his brother and some friends would play. Their performance was really captivating, and Jiyan realised how much she missed live music in her life.

After the show, they spent the night laughing and talking, getting her the chance to see Cillian with some of his old friends and learning about many of his most embarrassing memories from growing up and being in a band. She really cherished that evening, and even though feeling this kind of connection with someone scared the living daylights out of her, she found solace in it. 

He was reserved, but at the same time, he wasn’t afraid to show his emotions and share moments with her. She discovered that the best way to get to know him was to start talking about anything related to music or books or art. She still couldn't help but smile when she thought about one evening at the pub where they engaged in an intense argument about the comparison of darkness found in Russian and Irish novels. They were both such nerds.

Taking her phone out, without overthinking, she wrote him a message.

“As an actor, have you ever had a role where you learned telekinesis? If yes, I need your expertise.”

It didn’t take long to get an answer, “I am almost scared to ask, but why?”

“So you learned telekinesis for a role?” she replied back, but she never got an answer because a few seconds later he was calling her. She answered immediately and put him on speaker.

“So, should I know the nonsense you are going through on this lovely Sunday afternoon?” his voice echoed around Jiyan.

“Well, you know that my place is not really up to normal standards?”

"You mean that studio you always avoid mentioning, and the fact that you're living in a scam where your landlord is letting you stay rent-free only because you're renovating the studio for no money?"

“Well, come on, Sean is not scamming me. He even changed the locks!”

“Wow, he changed the 30-year-old lock, sorry then I take it all back.”

"Anyway," she dismissed, "I was almost finished building the kitchen structure, you know? Then I discovered that apparently, even if I am amazing, I still cannot put on my own a whole piece of countertop that weighs at least 30kg. So that’s why I am asking about telekinesis."

From the other side, she could just hear complete silence.

“I could bargain a lesson in telekinesis for a whole homemade Mediterranean dinner,” she tried again, and when she still got no reply,

"And a bottle of really good Italian wine," she finally added.

“I can be there in 30,” he finally said.

“I owe you one, really Cillian, thank you.”

“Yeah, no worries. I was almost tempted to stay silent for a little longer and see you sweat for another minute. Who knows what you would have offered.”

“At this point? To finally have an operative kitchen and not cook on a damn camping gas? The sky's the limit,” she joked back.

“Yeah yeah,” he laughed, “I'll see you soon,” and then closed the call.

Jiyan put away the phone and then looked around at the complete mess her studio was. Maybe she should at least try to make it presentable. Maybe.

"Can you pass me the 6mm wood drill bit, please?"

If someone had told Cillian that he would spend one of his sacred Sunday afternoons in a studio resembling a construction site, helping an ancient language researcher build a kitchen structure, he would have laughed hard and dismissed the idea as lunacy. Particularly because he had no idea what it meant to build something from scratch or how he could help with anything DIY. As an actor, he was good at faking anything, but apart from that, pretty useless when things got practical. However, to his astonishment, there had been various improvements since he arrived almost an hour ago, mostly without his input or help.

Upon his arrival, he found only a semblance of a structure that could resemble a kitchen. But after assisting Jiyan in putting up the countertop and then mostly staying out of her way, she worked her magic, and now there was an almost finished structure, with a still-disconnected kitchen sink, a worktop, drawers, and now a cooktop.

"You know I have no idea what you're asking for, right?" he answered.

She just sent him a pointed look and then turned around to fetch whatever drill bit she needed. See, he could help a lot just by staying out of her way.

"How do you know so much about DIY, anyway? Was it taught during your Aramaic lessons?" he asked, leaning against the nearby wall.

“Nah, that was more during Latin,” she joked back, before adding more seriously, “My father taught me, he's a maestro d’ascia, I wouldn't know how to translate it, but he's like a really good wood carpenter who can turn any piece of wood into a boat and fix anything. He is one of the really talented one in Venice.”

"So you worked a lot with your father?”

“Something like that. We lived on a sailboat until I was 10, and there was always stuff that would break,” she said. “If you're in the middle of a storm, you need to be quite inventive to repair any part of your boat. When I was a kid, it was the most interesting times at sea.”

“Wait, you lived on a boat?” he asked, sounding shocked.

“Mmmh-mhh,” she just nodded, focused on screwing the structure to the wall.

“You can't just nod to the fact that you lived on a boat.” he repeated.

“I was born on a boat too, if you think it’s important, just outside Venice,” she said, turning around and smiling at him.

“How?”

“Well, you see… my father met my mother, they really liked each other, and then when a man and a woman really like each other, a magic happens—”

“I meant why you were born on a boat, you little gremlin.”

She chuckled and then, turning back to whatever she was doing, she said, “Apparently just bad planning. My mum didn’t think she was in labour and waited too long. When they finally understood that I was coming, they tried to get to Venice as fast as possible, but the sea was low tide, so my father became my mum's OB and ta-dan, here I am.”

He just stared blankly at her back. “And then you just stayed and lived on a boat?”

“I grew up with two hippies as parents. They wanted to ‘live by the sea and be free,’” she said ironically. “So they thought we could sail around the Mediterranean Sea and the African coast, on a boat in the middle of nowhere. My mum could still work on the boat as a book translator, and my dad found odd jobs around. It kinda worked out until I was 10.”

“Then?”

“Then they finally decided to separate, thank god for small mercies,” she said with a dose of old exasperation. "They had my brother as an exit present. My mum got a job at the University in Trieste, and my father started to work as a skipper for rich people.”

“You don’t sound so happy about travelling around the world on a boat.”

She finished working and put away the drill and the screws, turning around to meet his eyes.

“It was… intense. It could be a lot, a lot of new beautiful places and people but also a lot of isolation and loneliness. I never had a friend until I finally moved to Trieste with my mum. I never spent time with other children my age. All my world was the sea, my mum, my dad... and a lot of imagination.”

“Still, ten minutes of your life sound much more exciting than 20 years of mine.”

“Not a lot happening in Cork?”

“Always a lot happening in Cork. I just wasn’t the most outgoing kid. I wasn’t comfortable with many people. The band helped a little and taught me how to adapt to different situations, but I spent a lot of time on my own reading and playing music. Even if I wasn’t good at staying on my own, so I would get into troubles.”

“Would love to hear about those troubles, Murphy,” she joked. “Wasn’t that different on the boat, you know? I didn’t even know what a movie or TV was until I moved to Trieste. My first 10 years were made of a lot of books, like really a lot, and listening to many music cassettes from my dad’s collection,” she said. “But still, you had other people. From what your brother told me, you were out at gigs and pubs all the time.”

“Well yeah… music really showed me what life could be. Playing live music was a rush I never felt before, like…”

“Good sex or drugs?”

He blushed at that but answered, “Well, yes, but don’t tell my granny I said that, it would kill her.”

She smiled at him. “Your secret is safe, you little druggie.”

“Oh come on, like you don’t know what you're talking about, you're the one who said that!”

“Sure, sure. If you say so,” she chuckled. “So now that I almost have a fully functional kitchen—”

“Amen to that,” he said flatly.

She just ignored him and went on, “Do you want to stay for dinner, or did I traumatise you too much with all this furniture building?”

“Well, I was promised a bottle of wine and a nice homemade meal if I recall correctly. Or did you just lie to use my brute force?” he asked, pausing for suspense, then added in a fake desolate tone, “I feel used, Jiyan.”

“If I needed brute force, I wouldn't have called you. You may be a good actor, but, you know…” she said, alluringly looking at his physique. “I don’t think strength is one of your best features. And now that I know your level of woodworking skills or any kind of DIY, I could have asked the first person on the street. You're a hazard, Murphy.”

Cillian opened his mouth in fake shock. “The disrespect! After all my sweat and tears on these wood boards.”

“Like when you didn’t know the difference between a screw and a drill bit?”

“They're both pointy things! They all look identical!” he said with exasperation.

“Or like when you were helping to put up the kitchen counter and you wanted to put it upside down?”

“Listen, if you don’t understand my artistic side, that’s not my fault. It just looked better,” he said, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

She giggled and looked back at him, causing his heart to skip a couple of beats. She really looked cute when she smiled like that and glanced at him, her eyes seeming brighter and deeper.

“If you say so, Murphy,” she said a few seconds later. “Anyway, Restaurant chez Jiyan can offer some homemade pasta with fresh Sicilian pesto, if you want to stay?” she asked, a little hesitantly.

“Like I could say no to that,” he answered with another smile. “I just can’t stay too late. Tomorrow I have an early morning because I'm going to drive to my parents' in Cork. On Wednesday is Paddy’s Day.”

“Oh, damn, I completely forgot about that. That’s why most of the people left campus this weekend? The library was almost empty yesterday.”

“Who goes to the library on a Saturday?” he asked, amused.

“Someone that has to submit a complete study of a translation and interpretation from 300 B.C. by the end of the month,” she stated flatly.

"Fair enough," he chuckled.

After that, they seamlessly transitioned into the rhythm of the kitchen, with him effortlessly following her instructions while they continued to joke and chat about everything under the sun. The atmosphere felt oddly domestic and comforting, as if sharing that small space she had meticulously crafted and preparing something together had created a bubble that disconnected them from the outside world, deepening their connection even further. It was reminiscent of those moments when they delved into discussions about books or music, where everything else seemed to fade into the background. In this limbo of comfort and familiarity, they found solace in each other's company, effortlessly flowing from one topic to the next, never running out of things to share, laugh about, or discover together.

He pondered what the next step might entail, sensing a mutual wariness about where their relationship was headed. Although she never divulged details about her past relationships, he could sense her fear of fully embracing this connection, knowing that vulnerability meant opening herself up to potential pain and heartache once again. At times, he caught glimpses of the pain and sadness hidden behind her eyes, like a veil draped over her soul. While he couldn't pinpoint the source of her anguish, he could feel its weight, a burden she carried with her.

As for himself, he felt a subtle shift in his perspective. He recognized that this connection with Jiyan was unlike any other, yet he couldn't shake off the nagging worry that taking it to the next level might somehow tarnish its purity. Past experiences had taught him that initial excitement often faded into routine and performance, leaving him feeling disconnected and unfulfilled. He refused to let history repeat itself with Jiyan, even if their bond felt refreshingly different in the present moment.

In what seemed like the blink of an eye, they had two smoking plates of pasta in front of them, while Jiyan, unable to find a wine bottle opener, was attempting to open the wine with a screw and a screwdriver. Damn this woman, he thought, shaking his head.

After successfully opening the bottle and grinning like a kid on Christmas, she poured it into two mismatched mugs, handing him one. Apparently, the new functional kitchen still was not completely furnished and lacked essentials, like wine glasses.

“Proud of yourself, aren’t you?” he asked with a smirk, toasting to her mug.

“Well, I finally cooked a real meal in my new kitchen, built by me.”

“A lot of ‘me’ in that sentence, a little full of yourself, aren’t we?” he teased.

She answered by sticking out her tongue playfully. "Thank you, Cillian, for helping today. I could not have done it without you" she sing-songed, her tone light and teasing, before turning more earnest. "But in all seriousness... Thank you. Even if handling a drill isn't your forte, I could not have done it without you."

“I’m sure there’s a compliment somewhere in there,” he said, smiling. “So, Bob the builder, where are we gonna eat this amazing meal? On the floor?”

She smirked at him, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Follow me, Murphy,” she said, before heading to the nearby windows and opening them. Without hesitation, she jumped outside.

“What?!” he exclaimed, his worry spiking at the sight of her jumping out the window. But then, like a good magic trick, he saw her standing outside, motioning for him to pass the plates and cutlery.

Approaching the window cautiously, he noticed an old metal grate just below, the kind used for emergency exits, and next to it, a small metal ladder that had clearly seen better days.

“What are you doing?!” he asked, trying to suppress the worry he felt watching her standing on that grate with no fences. Just a few steps and she could fall down.

“Come on, I’ll take you to my fancy dining room. Pass me the plates and the stuff,” she said, her tone lighthearted. “Ah, don’t forget the wine!”

Cillian stared at her for a few seconds, then shook his head and followed her instructions. He immediately noticed how much more graceful she looked climbing outside the window. Even with her guidance, he felt like a clumsy oaf.

“Okay, now just let go and come onto the grate,” she instructed.

He looked doubtfully at her and then down at the aforementioned grate. The height was giving him a headache. Why couldn't they just have a table and chairs like everyone else, and why was he following this seemingly deranged woman around?

“Are you sure it's stable?”

“Yes, come on, I’m hungry!”

“Oh, my apologies if I don’t have a suicidal instinct!” he said, perhaps with too much energy.

At that, she clenched her jaw and stiffened her posture.

“We...we don’t need to go if it’s too much,” she said more quietly. “We can eat inside, on the floor?”

He shook his head again and finally trusted the grate, which, to be fair, didn’t move or shake.

“No, sorry if I raised my voice. Heights are not one of my strong suits. Let’s check out this rooftop of yours.”

She smiled at him hesitantly, putting her hand on his arm as if she wanted to say something, but then she turned around to climb the ladder, balancing the wine bottle in one hand. It took a couple of minutes to pass her everything, and finally, he climbed up too, being careful not to look down.

He had to admit, it was really nice, a little spartan and industrial maybe. The sky had cleared since his arrival, casting a warm glow over the late afternoon, and in the distance, the shimmering sea stretched out to meet the horizon. The rooftop, a patchwork of flat surfaces interconnected with neighboring buildings, offered a panoramic view. At one corner, a low wall marked the boundary where the rooftop sloped downward, and there sat Jiyan, gazing out at the expanse of the sea, a wine mug in hand.

“Okay, it’s nice,” he said, sitting in front of her, taking his plate, and having his first bite, which exploded with flavours in his mouth. “Wow, this is… wow.”

“Noşigyan,” she said with a smile.

“No-si?” he asked.

“Enjoy your meal, in Kurmanji.”

“Ah, then… Bain taitneamh as do bhéile.” he said in Irish.

“Bwin tat…?”

“Bain taitneamh as do bhéile,” he corrected softly.

“Bwin tat-nyuv oss duh vay-il-eh,” she tried again.

He chuckled. “Yeah, kind of.”

“Aramaic, much easier,” she stated, taking another big forkful of pasta. “A nice colleague of mine is an Old Gaelic tutor. He invited me to go out with him and his boyfriend for St. Patrick’s Day. What should I expect?”

“Lots of green, traditional music, and many pints of stouts.”

She laughed, taking another bite, “Not sure if I should go, to be honest. Also, there's Newroz on Saturday, and it could be too much excitement for one week.”

“What’s Nefroz?”

“Newroz”, she corrected softly, “It’s the Kurdish and Persian New Year celebration. We celebrate the arrival of spring and the new year. There's a small community of Kurds here in Dublin, and they got authorization from the municipality to light a bonfire. Which is kind of a big deal.”

“A bonfire?”

“Yes, it’s the central part of the celebration. It's to purify yourself for the new year and spring, to burn all the impurities that you accumulate during winter. But I'm not sure if I want to go.”

“Why not? It seems important to you.”

“It is. I love it. Also, because I would finally get to eat decent Kurdish food, and I miss my culture and Kurdish people, or just speaking Kurmanji again.”

“Then?”

At that, she put away her fork and hugged her knees, looking away at the sea. That veil of deep sadness that he sometimes sensed and saw in her eyes was present between them.

"Have you ever met someone, anyone, and within mere moments, realised they were your person? Not necessarily in a romantic sense, but as if a connection sparked instantly, seeing facets of yourself mirrored in them," she paused, taking a deep breath. "Recognizing yourself in them. Knowing, in just a brief encounter, that regardless of what unfolds or how paths may diverge, they'll remain a constant presence—a confidant with whom you can truly share yourself," she spoke softly, her gaze drifting elsewhere, as if lost in another realm.

You. He immediately thought, but didn’t voice it.

"Well, yeah, I suppose," he responded tentatively. "There's Niall, we've been inseparable since school, and then there's my brother—he'll always be my rock. Who's that person for you?"

"Samyah," she replied, her voice faltering slightly as she uttered the name. "She was my best friend, my person, and well... and now she's gone. It's been incredibly hard, it kinda broke me. And going to Newroz without her scares the shit out of me. Enjoying it without her feels like leaving her behind… and I am not ready to leave her behind."

"Then don't go alone. I'll come with you," he suggested, his hand resting gently on her arm as he locked eyes with her. "While I never had the chance to meet her, if she was your best friend, I can't imagine she'd want this from you. You're not leaving her behind; you're honouring her memory by celebrating for her too."

"Aren't you supposed to be in Cork?" she inquired.

"I can return by Saturday, and honestly, I'm curious to experience Nebroz. There isn’t too much excitement in a week for me, I am Irish, we are built different" he explained.

"Newroz," she corrected him with a gentle smile. "And yes, she'd probably scream at me for even considering skipping it."

"Exactly," he affirmed, his grip on her arm gentle but reassuring. 

"Spas."

"What?"

"Thanks," she said sincerely, resting her head on her knees while still hugging them tightly to her chest, her gaze fixed on him. Her long, dark hair fell in soft waves over one side of her face, lending her an aura of gentle vulnerability. Cillian couldn't help but think she looked more beautiful than ever, like he was unravelling the mysteries of a cherished book. Returning her smile, he continued to meet her gaze.

But their moment was interrupted by the ringing of his phone from his pocket, signalling his brother's call. Silencing the phone, he made a mental note to return the call later when he was home.

"Guess I should head out soon, even though I'm dreading that ladder down there," he said, breaking the serene atmosphere.

"One step at a time?" she offered, rising to her feet and extending her hand toward him.

"One step at a time," he agreed, taking her hand gently. In that simple gesture, he felt a silent pact forming, one that transcended the simple act of climbing down a ladder.

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Thank you so much for taking the time to read this chapter. Your feedback, in any form helps me to continue write this story; and comments makes me happy. See you at the next one :)

tagging who could be interested: @cillmequick, @raincoffeeandfandoms, @emotionalcadaver, @ayomurphys, @beaniegender, @natalie--rushman, @duckybird101, @audiblysmiling, @call-sign-shark

[wjbminecraft]

*bangs head on desk* Minecraft fishing/ocean update/mod concept again like what I did here but more in-depth (pun not intended) because I got up at like 3am and it's like 4 when I'm writing this title thing and I have nothing to do for several hours.

Anyone who makes "lol Mojang are too lazy to implement this stuff" comments will be thrown into The Machine™ for a week and forced to watch a video about the reality of multiplatform game development. Also like this is a pure hypothetical and more of a "what I would do if I still made Minecraft mods and could do something this ambitious.

The basics:

Cooked fish are now called Smoked [type of fish].

Some fish species can only be caught based on what biome you're in.

There are new aquatic mobs that can't be caught, but some can drop items that can be eaten. This includes Squid, which have a chance of dropping Squid Rings or a Raw Tentacle.

The ocean is now stratified, and also a lot deeper than it already is. It's separated into the Surface (basically just how Minecraft's oceans currently are, complete with more biome diversity), Abyss (much darker and filled with bioluminescent mobs, as well as only containing one biome), and the Darkest Depths (rarely generates and is extremely deep; contains a new boss and lots of hostile aquatic mobs).

Iron now rusts (over four stages, similar to Copper oxidising but a lot slower) if submerged for long periods of time; Rusted Iron is easier to break, but otherwise the same. Iron Golems can also rust, which makes them slower, weaker and less durable. Rust can be removed by using a Brush.

There is now a designated "ocean" village type, which uses wooden walkways (similar to how regular villages look when they generate on water), and has buildings made out of modified boats. The Villager textures look somewhat piratey, with eyepatches and stripey bandannas and stuff. There are also aquatic Illagers that use a more cetacean-like Ravager variety, live in towers that are connected to the seafloor by an underwater mountain. Also there's a new Illager variety, the Drillager (which wears a bulky diving suit with a giant drill attached, which it uses to break through blocks and to charge at its targets yes, this is a Bioshock reference).

Fishing has been slightly overhauled; while you still just stick your rod in the water and wait, there's now a Fishing Table that can be used to change what bait you're using, which increase the chances of finding rarer biome-restricted fish (more on that further down), as well as a "salvage hook" item that vastly decreases the chance of catching a fish, but increases the chance of finding treasure like Saddles, Name Tags and Nautilus Shells.

There are now Diving Helmets, which offer almost no protection (being a glass bubble-helmet) and require 8 Glass Panes to craft, but allow the wearer to stay underwater forever. If they're crafted with Stained Glass, then the player's view will be tinted the appropriate colour.

More in-depth stuff:

Sharks exist now; they're based specifically on the mostly-harmless Nurse Shark, and - being based on an endangered species - drop no items on death. They also attack small fish mobs.

Underground lakes now contain Cavefish (not based on any specific species), which are blind and swim away from (most) noises, effectively working like a sneaky "tutorial" for the Deep Dark's mechanics.

The Darkest Depths contain the ruins of an unknown civilisation, and are protected by the Ancient Guardian, based on the boss of the same name from Minecraft Dungeons (but without the shard in the top of its head). Also a variant of the Biomine spawns near Ocean Monuments.

Skeleton Sharks spawn in all ocean biomes at night; they're hostile, and move relatively fast. When on land, they don't drown, but being undead mobs they do eventually burn in sunlight. They can also spawn being ridden by baby Drowned.

There are three new types of Coral: Elegance, which is cyan and glows; Pillar, which is green and has Log/Pillar/Basalt-style rotation; and Maze, which is orange and can form Chorus Plant-like "trees" that are topped with blocks of other Coral varieties.

Biome-specific mobs (note that there would probably be more but these are just the ones I could come up with)

Icy biomes contain Seals (neutral to players, but hostile to fish; drop nothing on death have a unique baby design), Snailfish (basic ambient fish), and a new mob called the Iceshell (hostile; a creature resembling a giant Portugese Man O' War, with the "sail" being a giant chunk of ice, and the tendrils replaced by several dangling crustacean-like limbs).

Swamps contain Piranhas (hostile to any mob with 25% health or less remaining) and Electric Eels (electrify the water in a 3x3 area around them when attacked).

Beaches contain Giant Crabs (passive; can be tamed with Seagrass or raw fish, and ridden as a semiaquatic mount yes this is a Bionicle reference; their colours vary depending on the specific Beach subtype, with regular Beaches having red crabs, Stony Shores having blue, and Snowy Beaches having white).

Warm Oceans contain Frogfish (passive; come in eight colours that match up with the five vanilla Coral varieties and the new ones. They don't swim, instead walking on the seafloor; when standing on the Coral variety that corresponds with their texture, they turn invisible), Sea Slugs (passive; inflict Poison on contact) and Eels (neutral; spawn at night and attack smaller fish).

In the Nether, there are now Firefish (passive; instead of being cooked, the player has to right click on a water-filled cauldron while holding one in order to make it safe to eat), Basalt Floats (passive, but dangerous; function like floating platforms the player can stand on to get across lava, but can descend unexpectedly), and Magmateeth (hostile; giant lava-sharks that can set the player on fire just by biting them).

Abyss mobs include Anglerfish (passive), Octopi (neutral; much larger than Squid), Glowmouths (hostile; pale, shark-like creatures with no eyes and glowing mouths), Comb Jellies (passive; deal damage on contact) and Giant Isopods (passive; run away from the player).

There is probably more I could write but I have very few ideas.

[dndeceit]

Today was my birthday, so I'm going to do a rare thing and treat myself by posting a bit of a teaser for a fic that I've been working on for about a year and a half (at least April of 2023). The story is very close to being finished (I'm on the last chapter!) but it's going to take a lot of editing, so I don't know when it will be ready to start posting it properly on AO3. Overall, the fic will run twenty chapters (about 100k words by the time it's ready to post).

The story is called Salt for Salt. It's a Janus-focused supernatural AU about friendship, family, and finding home (and also sea monsters).

Cover art and the first half of the first chapter can be found below the cut.

(This sneak peek is rated T for mild swearing. The full fic may carry a higher rating due to its horror elements.)

Janus's father had been a con artist and a thief who—in his son's expert opinion—never failed to ruin everything he touched, Janus's life included. When the handling of his father's will revealed that his identity had been built upon forged documents, Janus had watched the life he had worked to build for himself fall disastrously apart. Expelled from university, burdened with debt, and barred from most employment, Janus was left almost aimless in the aftermath, with only the support of his closest friends to keep him afloat. Years later, stuck in a rut and with little left to lose, Janus decided to take a gamble. Following the trail of one of his father's old stories, Janus set out in search of clues about the other side of his family—whoever they turned out to be. That search has led him to the cold, remote island of Inch Murrough. Now it should only be a matter of navigating the social complexities of a small town and the colorful characters that lived there… (Needless to say, drawing the attention of the local sea monsters had not been part of his plan.)

Chapter One: Stars in the Sea

The moon was a narrow sliver, casting just enough light to frost the wispy, fast-moving clouds with a delicate silver glow. Patches of the night sky peered through where their cover was broken, lit with more stars than Janus could ever recall seeing in his life. Yet as beautiful as it was, the sky held nothing to the wonder that stretched out before him. Dark, frigid-looking waters roiled with a fraught energy, tossed by winds that felt only a breath shy of a storm. And somehow, it seemed the sea was on fire. The peak of every wave was capped in a brilliant, pale blue light. Sparks scattered as they crashed and broke against each other, twinkling softly as they dimmed, turning the black waters in front of him into a second field of stars...

It was captivating, and magical, and so alien to his experiences that at first Janus felt sure that he was dreaming. But the wind whipping those waves was strong and cold. It tugged at the fabric of his clothes and stung his cheeks and nose where they had grown damp from the sea spray. The roughness of the wood beneath his bare feet was very real, and his wonder shifted quickly, first into confusion and then alarm-

Because Janus had no idea where he was, nor any idea how he had gotten there.

Pulling back from the sparkling waves, Janus crossed his arms against the cold sea air and tried to take stock of himself and his surroundings. He stood alone at the end of a wooden pier overlooking a modest harbor which, beyond the boats rocking fitfully where they were moored in the rough waters, appeared to be basically empty. It was night time, and it was cold, and he was dressed in nothing but his pajamas. His feet were bare and they were sore—the soles tender and his toes freezing—like he had been walking around barefoot for a while. And it may have been the sudden shock of coming to awareness the way he had, but his blood felt like it was buzzing, like he had just stepped off of a roller-coaster. His throat burned, and he felt lightheaded and shaky-

And Janus supposed if he was going to be wandering around at night barefoot and half-frozen he might as well get sick from it. But seriously, fuck his life.

He didn't have his watch, so he couldn't guess how late it was, and he didn't happen to have his phone in his pajamas pocket because when had he ever been that lucky? The harbor was silent except for the wind and the waves and the sound of the boats at their docks, illuminated where the water lapped at their hulls by the same strange blue light that had held him mesmerized. There was nothing familiar about it, which only meant that it wasn't the same harbor where the ferry had docked when he first arrived at the town of Tam's Landing. On an island the size of Inch Murrough, there would of course be more than one, but at the same time it was hardly large enough that he imagined there could be that many...

There was only so lost one could get on an island with just the single town, right?

He would hope that he was still on Inch Murrough, at the very least, because finding himself elsewhere would make this whole alarming situation a much bigger problem than it already was. The last thing Janus remembered was lying down to sleep in his bed at the boarding house. He had booked his room for the week, assuming it would take him at least that long to find what he had come all this way for. There was supposed to be a resort hotel on the western side of the island, but he had learned that it was unfortunately seasonal and wouldn't be open until the summer. Though it was just as well, truly, given his limited assets. On his voyage out, the ferry captain had offered his recommendation for the bed and breakfast on the north side if he could afford it, or Greene's Boarding House to the south and it's...colorful landlord, if he couldn't.

(As it turned out, people didn't exactly trip over themselves forgiving student loans after you'd been expelled halfway through a degree for enrollment fraud. He was more than used to seeing his choices dwindling before him by this point.)

For better or worse, Janus found himself shaken out of this dreary thread of recollection by a tap on his shoulder. Then another on the top of his head. Sure enough, as he looked out over the strangely-glowing waves, the dark water became speckled with glimmering ripples as the thickening clouds the wind had drawn in from the sea began to release their burden. Janus cursed the weather, cursed his luck, and cursed his father on top of both for good measure because why not. If he wasn't sick already, he definitely would be if he stayed standing out here like a fool.

Questioning how he even got there was something he could worry about once he got himself out of the damned rain.

By the time he escaped the waterfront and reached the shelter of an awning on an adjoining street, the rain had begun to fall in earnest. The flannel of his top was damp and heavy on his shoulders, and was rapidly wicking away what little warmth it had previously allowed him to hold onto. Poorly dressed for it as he was, in the chill of a late autumn night the rain had just shifted his situation from uncomfortable to genuinely dangerous. And whatever the hour, Janus only knew that it was late. Late enough that it was probably early. The streets were that eerie sort of empty, and the clatter of driving raindrops chased every other sound out of existence. He shivered in his sad, isolated little pocket of misery, closed off from the rest of the world by a curtain of hissing rain.

Consequently, he was so caught up in that misery that he missed the approach of someone else arriving to intrude on his pathetic little scene.

A flash of movement and color at the corner of his eye was what finally caught his attention, and Janus looked up to find himself being watched. The man looked like he sat on the early border of his thirties or thereabouts. He had brown hair and brown eyes—currently wide with surprise—that stared back at him from behind a pair of black-framed glasses. Though, perhaps the most pertinent detail—or at least the one most pertinent to Janus—was that the man was far better dressed and equipped for the weather than he was. In particular, Janus found himself looking at the man's green, frog-eyed umbrella with an almost violent amount of envy.

"Oh, gosh," the man stammered suddenly, clearly trying to shake himself from his earlier surprise. "Are you-"

"Freezing," Janus answered through clenched teeth before the other could finish.

He imagined the question was likely meant to end differently. Still, in his mind, his answer was the only truly important one in that moment. His throat pinched on the word, reminding him once again of its soreness. He chose not to elaborate further.

With a surprised blink, the man winced sheepishly.

"Of course! I-" Looking around the empty street, perhaps expecting the rain to offer some solution, he stumbled toward the awning. "How-"

He cut himself off shaking his head.

"Never mind, it doesn't-" he said, mostly to himself, as he held out his umbrella. "Here. I- I'm not sure what we can do about-" His eyes flicked down, taking in Janus's lack of shoes. "But I- I mean- We're not far from where I work. You can wait it out there—or at least get dry."

Janus might have bothered to stutter out a thank you, but he doubted there was much he could meaningfully express through chattering teeth and a tortured throat. Still, as he ducked silently under the offered umbrella he was grateful nonetheless. He was even more grateful that the man, clear questions aside, did not stick around to chitchat once he had.

"It's just down the street."