#and she is the only living remnant of that crew

[elysiaheaven]

𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐃 𝐄𝐘𝐄-𝐒U𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐗 𝐅.𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑--𝐌𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐬-𝟎𝟐

Genre:Angstly?

Syponosis:

𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗲𝘅𝗽𝗿𝗲𝘀𝘀 𝗶𝘀 𝗵𝗶𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴, 𝗦𝘂𝗻𝗱𝗮𝘆 𝘄𝗮𝗻𝘁𝘀 𝘁𝗼 𝗳𝗶𝗻𝗱 𝗶𝘁. 𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝘄𝗮𝗻 𝗶𝘀 𝘀𝗶𝗻𝗴𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗶𝘁 𝘁𝗼 𝗯𝗲 𝗳𝗿𝗲𝗲. 𝗙𝗿𝗲𝗲 𝗶𝘁 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗯𝗲 𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗽𝗽𝗲𝗱 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝘆𝗼𝘂. 𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗘𝘅𝗽𝗿𝗲𝘀𝘀 𝘄𝗮𝘀 𝘄𝗿𝗼𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗼𝗼….

𝗔𝘀𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗹 𝗘𝘅𝗽𝗲𝘀𝘀 𝗦𝘂𝗻𝗱𝗮𝘆 𝘅 𝗳.𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

TW: Mentions of nightmares, disturbing descriptions, (corpse etc)

Sunday jolted awake, shouting, “Robin!” His heart raced as he looked around, trying to catch his breath. But Robin wasn’t there—he wasn’t home anymore. Slowly, his surroundings came into focus, and he realized he was in a room that wasn’t his own. The walls were bare, the furniture plain, and the entire space felt unfinished, as if it had been waiting for someone to make it their own. The Astral Express crew had mentioned this room once belonged to someone else, but it was now his.

The room was dull, imperfect, like the shattered pieces of his life. Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to complain. I have to live… because Robin gave me this chance. She… begged for me to be free. The thought weighed heavily on him, a constant reminder of what she had sacrificed. Something she had sworn she would never do, and yet, she did it for him.

He sat on the edge of the bed, catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror. Sweat clung to his silver hair, now a tangled mess. His clothes were rumpled, his skin pale, and his eyes—those golden irises with navy pupils—looked hollow, as though they hadn’t known rest in days. Unperfect, he thought, running a hand through his hair, which fell messily across his forehead, unkempt and wild. The gold halo behind his head, adorned with eye-like details, seemed to mock him. It was supposed to represent his Halovian heritage, a sign of power, of strength. But all he saw was a symbol of failure.

Something itched at his skin, and he realized he needed to wash away the remnants of the nightmare. Just breathe. Just live, he told himself, though the words felt empty.

Dragging himself to the bathroom, he stepped into the shower, the cold water shocking his senses as it poured down his back. He closed his eyes, letting the water cascade over him, trying to wash away the memories, the guilt, the fear. But the nightmare clung to him like a second skin, the echo of the boy’s voice still ringing in his ears: Why did you let her suffer? Why did you put Robin through that?

Sunday clenched his fists under the stream of water, but then loosened them. He had to control it. Seal it, he thought, repeating the mantra that had become his only means of survival. Lock it all away.

After a while, he stepped out and grabbed a towel, running it over his damp silver hair, before brushing his teeth. The bathroom was quiet, save for the sound of the bristles against his teeth. As he placed the brush down, he noticed the disarray. The toiletries were scattered—nothing was in order. It felt chaotic, unsettling.

Not perfect. He instinctively straightened everything, aligning the brushes, the towels, making the space orderly once more. It looked strange, almost unnatural, the bathroom too perfect for the raw emotions he was carrying inside. But it was who he was—a broken boy in a perfectly arranged world.

He stared at the reflection in the mirror again. His tired eyes stared back at him, dark circles etched beneath them, proof of sleepless nights. How many times have I woken up like this? he wondered, though he couldn’t remember. Every night had begun to blur together, the nightmares blurring the line between waking and sleeping.

He dressed in the simple clothes that Dan Heng and Mr. Welt had given him—normal, unremarkable clothes that felt foreign on his skin. A stark contrast to the robes of his Halovian past. But it was better this way. Here, on the Astral Express, he was just… Sunday. A man trying to survive. A man trying to piece together the shattered remnants of his existence.

Stepping outside his room, Sunday made his way to the common area, walking through the quiet corridors of the Astral Express. It felt peaceful, the soft hum of the ship’s engines the only sound. But inside his mind, the storm raged on.

He was here because of Robin. Because she had given up so much. And yet, all he could think about was how he wasn’t enough. He had failed her, failed to protect her. And now, he had to live with the guilt, the weight of her sacrifice hanging over him like a shroud.

As he walked through the halls, he passed by others—people who smiled, people who were at peace. But he remained silent, his golden eyes downcast, his body moving on autopilot. He wasn’t part of their world. He was still locked in the cage, the bars invisible but ever-present, surrounding him, trapping him.

Just live. He reminded himself once again. For her.

But with every step, it felt harder and harder to breathe.

Sunday stepped into the main room of the Astral Express, feeling the weight of everyone's eyes immediately on him. The chatter that had filled the space moments ago suddenly died, replaced by an uncomfortable silence that pressed in on him from all sides.

March, Dan Heng, and Welt Yang stood around the table, their conversations halting as their gazes shifted to Sunday, staring at him as though he were an alien, an anomaly that didn’t quite fit. He could feel their unspoken judgments, the awkwardness in their stares. It made him feel even more withdrawn, as though his presence disrupted something fragile, something he couldn't fix.

He looked around the room, his golden irises scanning every inch for something to occupy his hands, something to make him feel useful. That’s when he noticed Stelle’s coffee station—a mess of spilled sugar, half-empty cups, and scattered stirrers. His fingers twitched, an unconscious need to set everything back in order. Without thinking, he walked over to clean it up, hoping that maybe, just maybe, doing something would make the uncomfortable feeling in the room go away.

But before he could touch anything, Stelle looked up from her drink, watching him with a bemused expression. “What are you doing?” she asked, her voice laced with confusion, as if his very presence was strange enough, let alone his sudden need to clean.

He froze, feeling her eyes on him, and tried to withdraw. “You should clean this,” he said quietly, hoping to avoid confrontation. His voice sounded too cold, too formal—he hated it, but it was all he could manage right now.

Stelle raised an eyebrow and let out a mocking hiss, clearly trying to make light of the situation. “No way, day,” she joked, though there was an edge to her voice. But as she glanced at him, her lighthearted tone shifted when she saw his expression. His eyes were hollow, his face serious, as if the chaos of the room was suffocating him. “Ew,” she muttered, rolling her eyes. “Don’t be so scary about it.” Reluctantly, she cleaned the area herself, grumbling all the while.

Sunday stood there, feeling like a stranger in his own skin. He knew he had made the mood worse, knew he wasn’t wanted in the space. He could feel their collective discomfort like a storm cloud hanging over him, and all he wanted was to disappear.

He turned to leave when Himeko entered, her usual calm smile in place. She greeted him warmly, as though nothing was out of the ordinary. “Morning, Sunday,” she said, handing him a steaming cup of coffee. Her voice was soft, a kind gesture in a sea of silent stares.

He nodded briefly, the simple act of holding the cup feeling heavier than it should. “Why are you up so early?” Himeko asked, watching him carefully.

“It’s the normal time I wake up,” he answered flatly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. But to everyone else in the room, his reply felt out of place.

March, who had been sipping her drink across the room, spit it out in surprise, her eyes widening. “We only woke up early because Miss Black Swan wanted us to!” she said, incredulous. “We're planning a small vacation, Sunday, just a break to decide the next destination. No need to be all serious!” Her laughter filled the room, but Sunday barely heard it.

Miss Black Swan, sitting elegantly by the window, greeted him with a small wave, her presence like a shadow in the corner of the room. He barely acknowledged her, only offering a nod before retreating into himself once more. The walls of the Astral Express felt closer than ever, the air too thick to breathe.

Without another word, he picked up his breakfast and turned to leave, wanting nothing more than to be alone again, to escape the eyes that felt like they were stripping him down piece by piece.

As he made his way to the door, Himeko called after him, her voice filled with gentle concern. “Sunday, if you ever need anything, you can come to me anytime, okay? You don’t have to carry everything on your own.”

He paused in the doorway, her words like a small crack in the wall he had built around himself. But he couldn’t muster a proper response. Instead, he nodded, his face a mask of emptiness, the expression so broken it made Himeko’s heart ache just to see it.

And then, without another word, he left, retreating to the silence of his unfinished room, where the weight of his guilt and his memories could drown him in peace.

Inside, the world outside could slip away, and he could lock himself up again, just like always.

"Also! Let me know when you will speak to Robin again.."

He sat there, the older version of himself, staring into the reflective surface of the bars, and for a fleeting moment, he saw not just a boy—but a version of himself encased in darkness, chained by grief.

Locked up. Locked up. Locked up.

The thought echoed in his mind, a relentless chant that mirrored the pounding of his heart. He was a Halovian, a guardian meant to protect. Yet here he was, imprisoned by his own fears and sorrows.

Suddenly, the room grew darker, shadows coiling like tendrils around him. A raven flew in through the window, its feathers glossy and black, eyes glinting with mischief. It perched on the edge of his cage, tilting its head as if assessing him.

“Look at you,” the raven cawed, its voice mocking. “A bird locked in a cage, yet it’s you who should be free! What a joke. Shouldn’t a Halovian be soaring, not cowering in this pathetic prison?”

Sunday felt a jolt of anger surge within him, but he swallowed it down, locking it away. “Leave me alone,” he muttered, but the raven only cackled louder, a chorus of similar voices joining in from the shadows.

“Disappointment!” they croaked in unison, their words slashing through the silence like daggers. “A Halovian who can’t even fulfill his father’s wishes! Why do you even exist if you’re this weak?”

“Control it,” a small voice whispered in his mind, the remnants of his innocence urging him to remain stoic. “Control your feelings. Don’t let them see how pathetic you are!”

But the raven continued its cruel dance, flapping its wings, sending a flurry of feathers swirling through the air. “Pathetic! Pathetic! How could you let your mother down? How could you let Robin down? You’re nothing but a broken boy, hiding behind a mask!”

Sunday pressed his hands against the cool metal of the cage, his heart racing. The raven's words echoed in his mind, resonating with the darkness he fought to suppress. “I’m not weak!” he shouted, but it felt like a feeble protest against an overwhelming tide.

“Are you sure?” the raven taunted, circling above him like a predator. “You hide from the truth, but it’s still there. You can’t escape what you are. You’re weak, and one day, they’ll see it too. They’ll realize you’re just a child playing at being strong.”

The small version of himself, locked in that cage, screamed back at him, a reflection of his deepest fears. “Control it! CONTROL YOURSELF! Don’t let them see you cry! Don’t let them see how weak you truly are!”

Sunday squeezed his eyes shut, the weight of his conflicting emotions threatening to consume him. “No… I can’t let this happen. I won’t break,” he whispered fiercely, trying to summon the courage he had buried deep within.

The raven, now circling more aggressively, transformed in front of Sunday’s eyes, feathers turning as black as ink. Its beak, sharp as a blade, seemed to cut through the air as it landed just inches from him.

Suddenly, the raven's shape twisted, and before him stood a figure cloaked in darkness—Gopher Wood's raven-self, a looming silhouette with eyes that glinted with a mix of fury and disappointment. The sight sent a chill down Sunday’s spine.

“You failed me,” Gopher Wood’s voice rasped, dripping with disdain. “You’ve always failed. Weak, fragile, just like your mother. You’re no Halovian, not even worthy of the Oak Family’s name.”

Sunday felt his chest tighten, the words slicing deep into old wounds that hadn’t fully healed. He recoiled, wanting to scream, wanting to defend himself, but the guilt held him hostage. “I… I didn’t fail!” His voice trembled, but even he didn’t believe his own words.

The raven figure stepped closer, towering over him now, its wings spreading wide as shadows curled at its feet. “You couldn’t protect her. You can’t protect Robin. Every step you take is a step toward their ruin. And why? Because you’re weak.”

Sunday clenched his fists, his entire body shaking as the weight of those words pressed down on him, threatening to crush him under their truth. “Go away!” he cried out, his voice thick with emotion. “I didn’t fail! I’m still here!”

But the raven's cruel laugh filled the air again, shrill and merciless. “You think you have a choice? You let your father’s wishes slip away, you let your family down, and now you live in the shadows of your mistakes. You’ll never be free. Not from me.”

Suddenly, the atmosphere shifted, the overwhelming darkness stilled as a voice—steady, calm, and commanding—cut through the haze.

“Stop,” the voice echoed in Sunday’s mind, soft yet powerful, ringing with authority. “Don’t let the corruption consume you.”

Sunday froze. The voice seemed to pierce through the shadows that had been suffocating him, a flicker of light within the gloom. He glanced around, his heart pounding in his chest. Ena’s angels?—it was something he had heard of, whispers from old teachings. But here, now, in the depths of his despair, the voice resonated with clarity, breaking through the fear and self-loathing.

The raven-figure snarled, its form flickering like smoke, trying to regain control. “Don’t listen to it, boy. You’re mine. You’ll always be mine.”

“It’s just a corrupted voice,” the soothing voice urged. “You’re stronger than this.”

Sunday felt an odd warmth growing within him, something unfamiliar but steady—like a hand reaching out to him from the void. The grip of the shadows seemed to loosen, and before he could fully comprehend it, he felt a presence—a light.

And then, out of the dark, a figure descended before him. An angel, radiant and otherworldly, appeared. Its four wings fluttered gently, feathers shining with an ethereal glow. Its eyes—h/c and filled with a wisdom that both comforted and awed—looked directly at Sunday.

The angel extended a hand toward him, eyes filled with compassion. “You must free yourself.” Its voice was soft, yet carried an undeniable weight, as though it could pierce through the thickest walls of doubt and fear. “This cage is of your own making. But you can still escape.”

For the first time in what felt like ages, Sunday felt something stir within him, something different from fear. Hope.

He reached out tentatively, but just as his fingertips grazed the angel’s, he awoke—gasping for air, his body drenched in cold sweat. His heart hammered in his chest as he blinked rapidly, trying to shake off the remnants of the dream that clung to him like mist.

His eyes adjusted to the darkness of his room, he glanced toward the mirror on the far wall. And there, staring back at him, was not just his reflection—but the version of himself that had long haunted him: the former head of the Oak Family. The weight of that legacy, the burden of that title, suffocated him all over again.

His hands trembled as he looked away, the ghost of his past self still lingering in the edges of his vision. He tried to shake it off, but the fear, the doubt—they clung to him like chains, dragging him back down. He couldn't listen to the angel’s words. Not now. Not yet.

Stumbling out of bed, Sunday moved away from the mirror, as far as he could, but the image of his former self remained in his mind.

Sunday stood frozen before the mirror, his breath coming in shallow gasps. He tried to look away, but his reflection held him captive. His hands trembled as he gripped the edges of the dresser, his knuckles white with strain. Gopher Wood’s voice, that low, haunting rasp, curled around him like a noose tightening with each word.

"You failed again," the voice hissed, venom dripping from every syllable. "Why do you think you’ll ever be anything more than this? You couldn’t protect your mother. You won’t protect Robin. You’ll only drag them down."

The pressure in his chest built to a point where he thought he might collapse under its weight. His vision blurred, but through the haze, he saw another figure in the mirror—Robin. She stood there, staring at him, her reflection asking a question that pierced straight through to his core.

“Why did you make me sacrifice Penacony for you?” Robin’s voice trembled with sadness, her innocent eyes filled with hurt.

Sunday’s body locked in place. He closed his eyes, his heart pounding in his ears. This is a nightmare, he whispered to himself, holding his head in his hands, desperately trying to block out the voices, the haunting accusations. His body shook as he tried to resist the flood of emotion threatening to consume him.

"It’s just a nightmare. It’s not real." But it felt real. Too real.

Robin’s voice echoed again. “Why did we have to switch roles, Sunday? It was your job to protect me. Not mine. Why did you fail?” Her words lanced through his soul, the guilt crashing over him in waves.

His eyes snapped open, and he saw her in the mirror again. Robin—her face twisted in confusion and pain, as if every word tore at her heart. She stood there, expecting an answer. His throat tightened as the weight of her words pressed down on him.

"Stop!" Sunday screamed, slamming his hands against the glass, his voice breaking with desperation. His breath came in sharp, ragged bursts. "Stop it! Please, stop!" His cries dissolved into sobs as he slumped against the mirror, tears running down his cheeks uncontrollably. He gritted his teeth, his hands shaking uncontrollably as he raised them to his face.

In a moment of sheer madness, he slapped himself, again and again, forcing himself to stop. "Stop it, stop it, stop it!" The sharp sting of his own hand against his face barely cut through the pain in his heart. But he did it, again and again, desperate to regain control, to force the nightmare to end. "Please... just stop..."

But the nightmare only grew darker.

From the shadows, Robin’s silhouette faded. A twisted shadow emerged, her soft laughter mutating into something cruel and mocking. Then, from the darkness, his mother’s voice rang out, soft but agonizingly pained.

“Why didn’t you save me?” she whispered, her form appearing in the reflection—melting, her body distorting in agony. “Why, Sunday? Why didn’t you save me?”

He screamed, stumbling back from the mirror, his legs nearly giving way as his mother’s accusing eyes bore into him. I tried... I tried! his mind screamed, but the words wouldn’t come out. His throat felt like it was being squeezed shut. The guilt, the regret—it crushed him, suffocated him. I couldn’t save you...

Suddenly, a figure with striking red slash marks across his face and black-and-white materialized before him—Aventurine, a man whose presence brought nothing but a looming sense of dread. His eyes narrowed, filled with contempt. “Why did you drag me into your mess!? Why did you make me remember this painful past? What’s the point, Sunday? What are you doing?”

A blue-haired boy and a brown man joined..

Sunday couldn’t answer. The walls of the room seemed to close in on him, the faces of people he knew—figures from the Astral Express—appeared around him, watching him with disdain, disappointment etched into their expressions.

They were all laughing now. Laughing at his weakness, at his failure.

“Why do you even exist?” they asked in unison, their voices melding into a chorus of ridicule. “What’s the point of you? You’re nothing but a failure. Nothing but a weak boy hiding behind wings that don’t even work.”

He stumbled backward, his gaze fell to Gopher Wood’s dead body—twisted and broken, surrounded by ravens, their lifeless eyes staring at him, silent and cold. Dozens of dead ravens littered the ground, their bodies grotesque reminders of what he had once been. Their deaths echoed in the silence of the room, and yet... the laughter continued.

Sunday ran, heart pounding in his chest, desperate to escape. This isn’t real. It’s not real, he repeated to himself, but no matter how hard he tried to shake off the nightmare, it clung to him. The laughter, the accusations—relentless, unending.

His legs carried him further into the shadows, and suddenly, his wings——began to tremble behind him. He stretched them out, hoping to take flight, to escape this cruel nightmare, to rise above the voices that told him he was nothing.

But when he flapped his wings, nothing happened.

They were clipped. Torn. Broken.

He couldn’t fly. His wings—his symbol of freedom, were always useless from childhood... A sob tore from his throat, raw and full of anguish as he collapsed onto the ground, the weight of his shattered wings pressing him into the cold place!?

You’ll never fly. You’ll never escape. You’re trapped. The voices whispered again. What’s the point of you? Why do you even exist?

And there, surrounded by the twisted reflections of his past, the mocking laughter of everyone he had failed, Sunday realized with cold horror that he couldn’t answer them.

He didn’t know why he existed anymore.

As Sunday lay broken, wings clipped, and the mocking voices tearing at the very fibers of his sanity, a shadow moved in the distance. It was different from the other figures that haunted him. It was darker, more dangerous, and yet, strangely familiar.

The figure, cloaked in an abyssal black, seemed to glide across the ground as if it was one with the shadows. Its movements were fluid, unnervingly graceful. As it neared, Sunday’s chest tightened, his body frozen in terror. He knew this presence—he had felt it before.

It was the one that had protected him. The one that had shielded him from breaking down completely. But now… something was different. Its aura was no longer gentle or safe. This time, it was filled with rage.

The figure came closer, stopping just in front of Sunday’s crumpled form. He dared not lift his head, but the dark figure bent down, its shadowy hand gripping his chin tightly and forcing him to look up.

“Stop.” The figure’s voice was sharp, each word cutting into Sunday’s soul like a blade. “Stop this. You’re wallowing again.”

Sunday gasped, his breath hitching as he tried to pull away, but the figure’s grip tightened. Its eyes, once cold, now burned with something far more dangerous—something that spoke of frustration, of anger.

“You overthink,” it hissed, its voice rising. “Always trapped in your mind, always suffocating in your weakness. When will you learn?”

Sunday’s vision blurred with tears as he shook his head, trying to push the voice away. He wanted it to stop. Just stop.

But the figure only grew angrier. "You can’t even fight back anymore, can you? You’ve let these memories, these shadows, consume you. You’ve let them win!"

And then, without warning, the figure’s hand released his chin and shot toward his chest, a sudden sharp pain cutting through Sunday as if a sword had pierced his heart. His eyes went wide with shock, his body convulsing as he gasped for air.

The figure had stabbed him.

Sunday’s mind reeled in agony. The searing pain was all-encompassing. His breath came in ragged, shallow gulps, and for a moment, the world tilted around him.

The figure’s face twisted into a sneer. “Maybe this is what you need. Maybe you need to die before you can ever wake up.”

Sunday’s vision swam, black spots clouding his view as his pulse raced, his heartbeat thundering in his ears. The agony was unbearable, every breath burning his lungs, and he wanted nothing more than for it to stop. His thoughts spiraled as he struggled to stay conscious, the figure’s voice rising like a roaring tempest in his ears.

“Wake up!” it shouted, a haunting echo that reverberated through the nightmare. The words seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once, shaking the very ground beneath him. "Wake up from the Order you’ve imprisoned yourself in! Wake up!"

Sunday’s eyes shot open, his body jolting upright as he gasped for air. His chest heaved, sweat pouring down his face as his hands scrambled to find something—anything—that would ground him in the chaos. He touched the wound at his chest, expecting to feel blood, but there was nothing.

It was a dream. Another dream.

He sucked in another shaky breath, his mind spinning with confusion. But was it really just a dream? It felt too real. The pain, the voices, the figure—they were too vivid to simply be an illusion.

His heart hammered in his chest as he tried to gather himself, his eyes scanning the room wildly. The mirror. The shadows. The figure. Everything flickered in and out, but the terror remained. The weight of those words, that shout—wake up from the Order—it echoed endlessly in his mind.

Suddenly, the shadows twisted again, and the laughter from before—the cruel, mocking laughter of the ravens, the dead figures—it returned. They had never left.

Realization struck him like lightning.

"This… this is still a dream," he whispered, his voice trembling. His breath quickened as panic set in. No escape. There was no escape.

He clutched his head, trying to shake the disorientation, the layers of nightmares that seemed to be folding in on themselves. "No, no, no…" His voice rose, hoarse from the strain. "Stop it. Stop it, stop it!"

But the darkness only deepened. The figures of his mother, of Robin, of Gopher Wood and Aventurine—they all returned, laughing, accusing, taunting him with his failures. Trapped in this endless loop of despair.

Sunday screamed, his voice hoarse and breaking under the weight of it all, but the voices didn’t stop. They only got louder.

Suddenly, he felt it again—that stab of pain in his chest. He looked down, expecting the wound to reopen, to bleed—but instead, he saw chains. Chains wrapping around him, tightening with every sob, every cry for help.

The shadowy figure reappeared once more, watching him with cold, emotionless eyes. “Do you see it now, Sunday?” it whispered, voice dripping with menace. "You’ll never wake up. You’ll stay in this cage forever. You’re too weak to leave it."

The chains grew tighter.

His wings twitched, desperate to take flight, but they remained clipped, useless. He tried to break free, to run, to escape the mockery, but the laughter grew louder, the figures closing in on him. His breath grew shallower, and the chains tightened further around his chest.

Sunday’s voice cracked as he shouted again, “No! This has to be a dream! It has to be!”

The shadow leaned closer, its breath cold against his skin. "Is it?"

And with that final, cruel question, the nightmare swallowed him whole.

Sunday woke up drenched in cold sweat, his heart still racing from the nightmare that clung to his mind like a vice. He shot up from his bed, breathing heavily as if he had just escaped drowning. The dream—no, the nightmare—still echoed in his thoughts, the weight of those mocking voices pressing down on him.

His fingers clenched into fists, and he could still feel the chains from the dream wrapped around his chest. The laughter. The accusations. They were gone, but the guilt they left behind lingered like a scar. He couldn’t stay here, not in his room, not with the suffocating silence.

Without thinking, Sunday bolted out of his quarters and made his way to the main hall of the Astral Express. His footsteps were quick, urgent, as if he was trying to outrun something. The halls blurred around him, and all he could focus on was reaching somewhere, anywhere, where the dark thoughts couldn’t follow.

When he reached the main hall, he stopped abruptly, his eyes scanning the room. It was late, and most of the crew had turned in for the night. But not Himeko. She was there, sitting by one of the wide windows, drinking her coffee as always, her gaze distant as if she was lost in thought. The stars of the cosmos twinkled behind her, the endless expanse of space stretching out in all directions.

Sunday's breath hitched as he caught sight of her, and for a moment, he considered turning back. His hands were still trembling, and his thoughts were scattered like broken glass. But before he could retreat into the shadows, Himeko looked up, her eyes softening when she noticed him standing there, disheveled and clearly shaken.

“Sunday?” she asked, her voice gentle but tinged with concern. “Are you okay?”

Sunday stiffened under her gaze, the darkness still clinging to his features. His eyes, normally bright with determination, were shadowed and distant, haunted by the nightmare he couldn’t shake. He forced himself to smile, but it felt more like a grimace. “It’s nothing,” he mumbled, trying to brush it off, though his voice betrayed him. He sounded hollow.

Himeko raised an eyebrow, not convinced for a second. She didn’t press him, but her eyes told him she saw more than he was willing to admit. “You’ve been overworking yourself, Sunday,�� she said softly, setting her coffee down. “I know you’ve been through a lot… but you need to take care of yourself. We want you to enjoy your freedom, not be weighed down by it.”

Freedom.

The word stung him. What did freedom even mean anymore? He wanted to walk away, to bury himself in his duties and pretend everything was fine. But instead, he found himself taking a hesitant step forward, and then another, until he stood in front of Himeko.

The words slipped out of him before he could stop them. “Himeko… can I… can I sleep in your lap?” His voice was small, almost childlike, and he hated how weak it made him feel. But he didn’t know where else to turn. The burden of his nightmares was too heavy to carry alone anymore.

Himeko blinked in surprise, her usually composed expression faltering for a moment. She quickly composed herself, though, and took a sip of her coffee before placing the cup down with a soft clink. “Why?” she asked, her voice gentle, but she could see how distant his eyes had become. His body was here, but his mind… his heart… they were still trapped somewhere dark.

Sunday hesitated, swallowing hard. His voice cracked when he finally spoke. “I just… I just want my mother to forgive me.”

There it was. The confession, the guilt that had been gnawing at him for so long, finally spilled out. He couldn’t even look at Himeko as he said it. He didn’t want to see the pity in her eyes, didn’t want to feel like a child again, lost and broken.

Himeko’s expression softened even more. She understood, even without him saying much. She could see how much he was struggling beneath the surface, how much he was holding back. Without another word, she shifted in her seat, gently patting her lap in silent invitation.

Sunday hesitated for a moment, but then, like a wounded child seeking comfort, he slowly lowered himself onto the floor and rested his head on her lap. The moment his head touched her, the tension in his body seemed to release all at once. He let out a shaky breath, his eyes closing as he sank into the comforting warmth of her presence.

Himeko’s hand softly rested on his hair, gently brushing through the strands like a mother soothing her child. She didn’t say anything for a while, letting the silence fill the space between them.

Sunday’s voice came out in a whisper, more to himself than to her. “What’s it like… to be free?” His question hung in the air, fragile and uncertain.

Himeko looked out into the stars, her eyes thoughtful. “Freedom,” she said softly, “is the ability to chart your own path. To move forward, despite the past, despite the burdens. It’s about choosing your direction.” She glanced down at him, her hand still stroking his hair. “It’s not always easy. Sometimes it feels like an open sky, full of possibilities. Other times… it feels like wandering through the dark.”

Sunday’s throat tightened. Freedom. It was something he couldn’t grasp, not with everything that weighed him down. “A freedom I’ll never understand,” he muttered under his breath, bitterness creeping into his voice.

Himeko heard him, but didn’t respond right away. She just continued to stroke his hair, offering the silent comfort he so desperately needed. She knew there were no easy answers, no magic words that would heal the wounds he carried. But for now, in this quiet moment, she could offer him the only thing that mattered—comfort.

Sunday lay there, his eyes still heavy with the darkness of his nightmares, he tried to push the guilt away. But the images of his mother, of Robin, of Gopher Wood—they still flickered in his mind. Forgiveness. He wasn’t sure if he could ever forgive himself, let alone expect his mother’s forgiveness.

Sunday drifted into a restless sleep once again, despite the comforting presence of Himeko. His mind pulled him back into the world of dreams—a world he couldn’t control. The darkness that had haunted him returned, but this time, it was different. It was quieter, softer.

He found himself standing in a vast, endless space. There was no sound, no laughter, no mocking voices, just silence. But the stillness only made his heart race faster, knowing that something—or someone—was watching him.

And then, from the depths of the silence, the angel appeared again.

She descended slowly, her four wings spread wide, glowing faintly in the soft light that surrounded her. Her hair (h/c) flowed gracefully, and her (e/c) eyes met his with a calm intensity. She radiated an otherworldly presence, as if she existed on a plane far beyond his comprehension.

Sunday wanted to turn away, but he couldn’t. Something about her presence held him still, captivated and fearful at the same time. His pulse quickened as she approached, her footsteps barely making a sound.

When she reached him, she did something unexpected. Instead of speaking or demanding anything, she gently patted his head, her touch surprisingly tender. Sunday flinched at first, not used to such gentleness in his dreams. But the angel’s hand was soothing, almost maternal in the way she comforted him.

Then, with her free hand, she produced a strange set of scales. It shimmered like stardust, ethereal and weightless, yet filled with a power he couldn’t understand. She held it over his head, and Sunday felt a strange sensation wash over him, like his mind was being weighed, measured.

Her (e/c) eyes focused on him, studying him carefully as the scales tipped slightly, glowing with a faint, warm light. “It’s trauma,” she said, her voice soft yet echoing with a resonance that reached deep into his soul. “And… a fragment of an Aeon’s essence.”

Sunday blinked, confused. “An Aeon’s essence?” His voice was shaky. He had no idea what she meant, but the way she said it made it sound like something important. “What… what does that mean?”

The angel didn’t answer directly. Instead, she tilted her head, her expression calm but unreadable. “You’ve been touched by forces beyond your understanding. The Aeons… their influence lingers in you. It clouds your thoughts, chains you to your nightmares.”

He looked down, feeling the weight of her words settle in his chest. Was that why he was plagued by these dreams? Was that why he couldn’t escape his guilt, his memories?

“Who are you?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper. “Why are you in my dreams?” There was a mixture of desperation and anger in his voice now. He didn’t want to feel weak again, but he couldn’t shake the sense that this angel, whoever she was, had answers he desperately needed.

The angel’s expression softened as she met his gaze, her eyes filled with a quiet, knowing sadness. “That is something you must discover for yourself. Only when you understand the truth will I reveal myself fully to you.”

Sunday swallowed hard, his throat dry. “And… how am I supposed to find that truth?”

Her wings fluttered slightly as she stepped back, her figure starting to blur, as if she was fading away. “When you’re ready, I will come to you again.”

Before he could ask anything more, the dream dissolved, and Sunday was ripped back into reality.

He jolted awake, his heart pounding in his chest. His eyes darted around, disoriented by the sudden shift. But he wasn’t alone. Standing in front of him were March and Stelle, both looking down at him with curious expressions.

He flinched at their presence, still shaken from the dream. “W-What are you two doing here?” he stammered, sitting up quickly, his head spinning from the abrupt wake-up.

March held a finger to her lips, grinning. “Shh, don’t worry! You just looked so peaceful… we didn’t want to wake you.”

Stelle, standing beside her, gave him a smirk. “Yeah, and we might’ve taken a picture. You know, for… memories.”

Sunday’s eyes widened in horror. “You what?!” He looked down and realized that Himeko had fallen asleep in the chair beside him, her hand still resting gently on his shoulder. His face flushed in embarrassment as he scrambled to sit up properly. “Stop it! Don’t… don’t send that to anyone!”

March giggled mischievously, holding up her phone. “Too late! Already sent it to Robin. She’s gonna love this.”

Sunday groaned, running his hands over his face in frustration. He couldn’t deal with this right now. His mind was still reeling from the dream, from the angel’s cryptic words. “I’m going back to my room,” he muttered, standing up quickly and brushing past them.

“Aw, come on, Sunday! Don’t be like that!” March called after him, but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop. He needed space—time to think.

Once he was alone in his room, he closed the door behind him, leaning against it for a moment as he tried to steady his breathing. His reflection caught his eye—the mirror, still taunting him with his own image.

He stared at himself, seeing the dark circles under his eyes, the weariness that seemed etched into his skin. The weight of his guilt, his past, still hung over him like a dark cloud. The angel’s words echoed in his mind.

"A fragment of an Aeon’s essence… trauma… chains you to your nightmares."

Sunday’s hands trembled as he turned away from the mirror, his thoughts racing. The angel had said he needed to find the truth—but how? Where was he supposed to start? What if he never figured it out?

And what if, deep down, he wasn’t ready to face that truth at all?

[james-is-here]

I have a different idea that’s not hunger games themed

The idea is a pirate captain hongjoong x male siren reader

Hongjoong is a pirate captain who captures the reader and steals his siren song so now the reader is mute. Years later the reader is cast out by his brothers and sisters and forced to live as a mute human. He works in a tavern as a waiter and hongjoong and his crew walk into the bar. Reader recognizes him and doesn’t wanna serve him but his boss makes him so he does

He brings the crew the drinks and hongjoong starts flirting with him and realizes he’s mute. I don’t have many ideas from here sorry but I think it’s a good story. I want them to have a happy ending but I also want some angst in there if that’s alright? I hope you like it :3

-🖤

(Notes at the end)

On the edge of Eldoria sea is a cove known by all as Siren's Lament.

In the annals of maritime lore, tales echo of gallant fleets embarking on perilous quests in search of the elusive cove, a whispered secret among sailors and adventurers alike. From bustling ports, ships set sail, their journey fraught with danger. Yet, upon their return, only a scant few brave the tumultuous seas back, bearing witness to the trials endured.

Their ships, battered and worn, tell stories of unseen perils lurking beneath the waves, of storms that rage with vengeful fury, and of whispers beckoning towards oblivion. Each voyage to this treacherous cove is a gamble, a dance with destiny where discovery may exact a price steeped in sacrifice and blood.

On of these many fleets was that of Captain Kim many years ago, his ship on the brink of sinking with temporary repairs in place, the hold of his ship partially flooded. The crew was battered and bruised, disheartened at the failed journey and their losses, including that of Captain Kim. His second hand returned to his family with his Captain's hat in his hand, a locket, and a sullen expression. The wife cried as the son gently took the hat and locket the second hand passed to him, saying that his dad passed with honor and dignity and he wouldn't want anyone else as his captain.

Before leaving, the second hand left with one more word. "Kid, when ye older, if you avenge yeh father 'e said to find the one whid black scales. That the one that lured 'im to 'is death." He points at the locket in the boys hand. "That is the Locket of Luring Silence."

The locket is a delicate item adorned with intricate carvings and inset with a shimmering gemstones and pearls that pulses with inner light. When opened, it emits a soft, hypnotic glow that lures the Siren's song into its heart, sealing it away from the world.

"What does it do?" The boy asks. "Can steal a song strai't from a Sirens throat." "Why would I do that?" Kneeling down, the second hand places a hand on the boys shoulder. "Kid, Sirens are heartless, selfish beasts, luring unsuspectin' souls to their wa'ery graves whid beguiling songs. They haunt their cursed coves, carin' not for gold nor glory, only for the mis'ry they sow with each hauntin' note." He takes the hat and places it on the boys head.

"Do yeh father proud, Hongjoong, yeah?" The boy nods, determination on his face.

"I will."

Years later, the young Captain Kim now had his own crew and his father's ship was repaired, he even had some of his father's crewmates on board.

At the Sirens Lament, within the ring of rocks, a few Sirens swim around in the sunlight, a few older guppies laughing and splashing their friends and a few parents float about with their younger guppies.

Other Sirens sit on rocks that breech the waters surface, on one of them lays an older male Siren with a younger girl. The girls scales travel up the sides of her waist and she wears the remnants of what use to be the sails of a ship covering her chest as her scales have yet cover her chest.

"Come on, has anybody ever been curious on what's out there? I bet it's fascinating." The male next to her groans as the girl pushes on his chest with enthusiasm, flicker her with his tail before rolling onto his front. "I bet it's terrible. Callista, You know the type of people that come from out there." "I know but am I the only one that can't help but wonder?" "Yes. The rest of us rather not think about what's out there and enjoy our life here." The girl groans and flops on the males back, her tail flipping up out of the water and splashing them.

"Mn, you're not a very fun brother." "Go to Nereus, see what nonsense he's getting into." "But you're the fun brother." Pushing up and tilting to the left he shoves the girl off, she yelps when he falls into the water. "You just said I was no fun, how does that make sense." She was going to retort when your mother called out. "Callista! Stop bothering your brother and help me corral the guppies!" "Mn is older, why can't he do it!" "Because I called for you, not Mn." "Aw, Mom."

Diving into the water with a whine and swimming away, Mn laughs as he settles on his rock, kicking up his tail and dropping it into the water, listening to it splash in the water and the others swimming around. He had all his developments, his scales were up his sides, over his collar bones and to the back of his neck. From there they travel over his shoulders and down his arms to his hands which are webbed. He had extra fins above his hips and wrapped around his waist were strings with different trinkets attached. His scales colored black with sprinkles of white and silver grey.

Laying his head down on his arms, he looks out past the rocks near him before sitting up and noticing something that is way too closer for comfort. How had nobody noticed sooner. "Pirates!" Everyone turns at his yell, watching him dive off his rock and the ship behind him.

Everyone stops what they're doing and dives off their rock or starting to head towards the depths of the cove. Mn and a couple other older Sirens got into place to trick the pirates should they enter the actual cove.

That's just what these pirates do.

Mn's mother looks to her son with a worried gaze and Mn catches it heading to his spot. "Mama, what's wrong?" "Just be careful." Her silver hand cups her son's face and brings his head down to kiss his forehead. "I will, Mama. I promise." He kisses her forehead in return before giving her a smile and swimming off. She watched him swim off, she knows he'll be safe but protecting the cove was how her husband was taken from them.

Three men in a row boat enter the cove and stop in the center, they were the firsts to enter with a boat instead of their whole ship. "Are you sure this is the right cove?" The one rowing asks as he stops and looks around, catching a few odd shapes lurking just under the waters surface.

"What other cove is known to be at the edge of Eldoria?" The other one asks. "Would both of you be quiet?" Finally the last one scolds both of them. "Sorry, Captain." They both say, lowering their heads when he stands up carefully and looks around.

Wearing thick black boots, white pants, a belt with his sword attached, a baggy red shirt and a long black coat was the younger Captain Kim, hat snug on his head and the Locket of Luring Silence hanging off his belt.

"Hey, what's that?" The one rowing says, turning towards a few lurking Sirens behind a rock that have started their song. "It's so...pretty." The Siren, salmon colored scales, bravely swims up the boat, her song being the most alluring to the male and she smiles up at him, reaching out to the dazed male and he takes her hand. "Thomas, No!" Captain Kim yelled out but the Siren smirks and pulls Thomas overboard and into the water.

"Shit, they're already hunting." "Captain?" "Just ignore them, they're just stupid fish, okay?" He grabs the net at the bottom of the boat. "Now, help me get this ready." When the other didn't respond or help him, he looked up. His other crew was over the edge, a blue Siren male was under the water and he was reaching out. "Charles-!" He reached out to him when he stopped, one voice among the song catching his attention.

Looking towards the voice, he saw a Siren behind a rock who slowly made his way to the boat like the others. "Captain-" The other crew yelled out and Hongjoong turns to see the blue Siren take him away and into the depths.

He turns around, the Siren still there and Mn has no time to react before the net Hongjoong was untangling was suddenly thrown over him. He tried to swim away but that just made the net wrap around his body more and Hongjoong held the net closed, hoisting him up onto the boat with a little struggle.

Mn squirmed trying to get out of the net but the other stepped on his neck, the Captain holding him still as he pulled out his sword and held it to the Sirens face and Mn stops struggling.

Hongjoong breaths heavily from the struggle, eyes scanning over the scales and scowls down at him when Mn's black scales shine back at him in the sunlight. "It's you. You're the Siren with black scales that lured my dad to his death." "W-What? W-Wait, n-no, please!" "Oh, it speaks." "I-I'm not who k-killed your dad." "I was told a Siren with black scales lured my dad to his death." "I-I have m-my dads s-scales, p-please d-don't h-hurt me, please."

"What if I do, huh?" "I-I c-can't leave my mom alone. I-I t-took my fathers p-place in the family, I-I can't leave them." "Fine." He pulls back his sword and steps off his throat. "Can I hear your song one last time?" He asks as he untangles the net and Mn dives back into the water.

"Why would I do that, pirate?" He shrugs. "It was nice." Mn opened his mouth, his song meeting Hongjoong's ears and Mn misses him reaching to his belt and pulling the locket from it.

Hongjoong smirks, opening the locket and holding it near Mn. His eyes widen and he wanted to stop and swim away but its as if the locket kept him frozen. Mn winces, his throat burning as it felt like his voice was physically being torn from his larynx.

The locket closed by itself when it had his voice and Mn's hand shoots up to his neck, jaw dropped partially as he stares up at the Captain in shock and worry.

"I'll let you live but," He then holds up the locket and waves it tauntingly. "I'm take this." Mn reaches out for it but Hongjoong pulls it back, laughing at Mn as he took the oars and started rowing back to his ship.

When out of the cove, Mn still remained where his was and his mother swam up to him and looked him over. "Mn, are you okay?" She cradles his face, making him look at her worried gaze. He went to answer but nothing came out. His eyes widen, hand wrapped around his neck and scratching at it as if to bring his voice back. "Did...Did that pirate steal your voice?"

Mn nods, scratching at his neck and his mother takes his hands away so he doesn't hurt himself. "It's okay. It'll be alright, Mn, okay?" Mn starts crying, his arms moving to wrap around his mother and she does the same. "Oh, Mn..." "Mom, will Mn be okay?" She removes an arm from Mn and wraps it around Callista. "I hope..." She whispers into the girls hair and kisses the tops of their heads as her other kids join them.

The power of a Siren resides wholly within their voice, a symphony of enchantment that binds them to the depths of the ocean. Without the melodic gift, they are but a shadow of their former self, bereft of the captivating allure that defines their existence. Stripped of thier voice, a Siren becomes vulnerable, their once-potent magic reduced to whispers on the wind. No longer able to command the currents or entrance the hearts of mortals, they drifts aimlessly, a solitary figure adrift in a sea of silence, longing for the song that once defined her.

For a Siren, to lose their voice is to lose their very essence and they begin a gradual transformation into a mortal being. As their abilities wane, they become vulnerable to the dangers of the human realm, disconnected from the ocean's depths that once sustained them, gave them life. It falls upon the cove's inhabitants, fellow Sirens, to decide their fate. They must choose between aiding them in their transition to mortality, offering guidance and protection as they adapt to their new reality, or casting them out to fend for themself among humanity. The Siren, stripped of their allure and defenseless, also holds the option to depart voluntarily, seeking solitude to safeguard themself from the perils that now threaten their existence.

Only a few months later, you sat at the shore deep within the cave of the cove. You still had your tail, glimmering with grey scales and only a grey black ones spotted around.

You've been silently watching the tied roll over your tail, tears falling down your face as you've come to terms with your fate. You've heard every murmur from other families and your siblings have started to avoid you. 'Why be around someone that can't speak?' Callista, who was once your best friend, now avoids you and goes elsewhere.

You're no longer seen as the family leader, that's been given to Nereus and you didn't even get to decide that. Nereus has even started to ignore you and boasts about being the family leader and making dad proud unlike 'the mermaid who couldn't take down a pirate.' You were even called a mermaid. 'You don't have a voice so why should you be called a siren.' some of the other sirens said either to your mother or to your face.

"Mn? Son?" You look up when your mother joined you on the shore, placing a hand on the side of your face and you lean into her touch. She then picks up your hand, looking over your arm which started showing more skin as the scales disappear.

Picking a loose scale off your arm, she rubs it between her fingers, sighing deeply as she leaned onto your shoulder. "Mn, You..." She holds your hand tighter. "I don't want to...but the others are talking about...sending you away." Your hand briefly tightens in her hold. "I know, Mn, I know. I'm sorry...but you know it's your choice. If you stay, I will help you no matter what but you are such a bright spirit and I'm so proud you're my son and I'm simply suggesting that you'll be better on land."

She lifts her head off your shoulder to see your reaction before reaching up with a gasp and wiping your tears. "Oh, My son, I know. I'm sorry this has happened to you but know that I'm so proud of you and your father would be so proud of you as well. You're so brave, so strong, so perfect and I wish I never had to do this to you, that this didn't happen to you."

Your shoulders jolt with a silent sob and your mother takes you into her arms. "The choice is yours, but while you still have your gills and tail you should leave now..." She pulls away and cradles your face. "Just to get as far as possible before it's too late..."

Hesitantly, you nod your head, kissing your mother forehead before moving your hand to your arm and pulling out a few more scales, a mix of black white a grey and place them in her hand before pointing towards the hand made necklace your mom made for all her children, a few of her scales attached to one another in a small diamond surrounded by one scale from each of her children. Your siblings ripped your scale off their necklaces the moment Nereus was made the family leader.

"Oh, Mn..." You tap your temple then point to yourself and your mother smiles. "My dearest eldest son, I'll always remember you." Pointing to your heart then to her, you hug her one last time. "Oh...I love you, too, Mn. Be safe, okay? Don't worry about us, just..."

She pulls back one final time and cups your cheek, kissing your forehead and smiling weakly. "Just be yourself." Nodding, you lean into her touch one last time and go to swim away when you heard splashing and quiet yelling.

"Kids, come here." Your mother calls out and your brothers and sister come closer to the shore. "I understand you have all resented Mn but at least say goodbye?" Callista was the first to come up next to you, followed by Nereus, Luna, and a very hesitant Lirian.

You open your mouth, no sound coming out as you mouth to them that you're sorry. "I guess...we've been unreasonable. You didn't loose your voice on purpose, that pirate took it." Nereus spoke up first.

"Mn doesn't want to leave...but he's doing it for his own safety." You nod at your mother's words. Your siblings look at each other before your sisters are at your sides and Nereus is moving behind you to hug you all at once, causing you to let out a silent sob as you hug them back the best you could.

They let go and you look at them all one last time with a small smile then to your mother before moving further off the shore and into the water. "Be safe, Mn!" Luna calls out and you turn, waving goodbye one last time before they watch you dive under water and swim away.

"Get up!" I gruff, raspy voice calls as a hand slaps the back of your head and you jolt up. "Customers are arriving, get out there." You glare at the back of the tavern owner as you rub the back of your head and get up.

It's been three years now since all your powers were gone. You were found floating in the ocean by a fisherman who took you in and helped you, he was really nice when he realized you couldn't speak or walk, super patient with you and caring.

His brother on the other hand...

He own a tavern, the most popular one on shore and if it wasn't for the fisherman and the care he has for you as if your his son, you wouldn't have your job.

The fisherman had to go on his yearly outing to get more fish so you were stuck with his brother, a big oaf with a snaggle tooth, half his hair, and if you didn't know any better, you'd think he was apart of some pirate crew. (I was picturing a member of crew from Pirates of the Caribbean XD )

Exhaling sharply, you shift to the edge of your makeshift bed, still rubbing the spot the tavern owner, Samuel, smacked before standing up and getting dressed.

You buckle a belt over your oversized shirt, slip on a pair of worn, brown pants, and a pair of black boots.

You trudge out of the back room and behind the bar, leaning on the top for a moment while you yawn, eyes closed before a hand slaps on the surface. "Oi, get to it!" Samuel bellows, glaring at you.

You yawn again before walking over to your first table of the day while Samuel wonders over to a table of woman who you can tell are way out of his league but he buys them mead and they keep coming back.

A little while later, five tables into your shift, loud, boisterous laughter and yelling fill the room and you look up from the tap you're at only to scowl and look away, back to the mug in your hand.

Placing the mug on the counter with the other two, you easily, albeit still a little shaky, grab the mugs with one hand and two bottles of mead in the other before going over to the table that ordered all the drinks.

You go back behind the bar, beginning to clean the cups there as you glance at the group that just walked in and has sat down. You really wish you weren't the only server in the particular moment.

"Oi, Sam! Can we get drinks over here!" Samuel looks up from the whor- lovely woman he's talking to, his smile falling as he looks at who yelled then scowled at you. "Boy, go get their order." You heavily drop your hands, the glass in your hand making a small thud on the countertop as you glare at Samuel, shaking your head. Samuel stands up, one hand on the table and the other pointing at you. "Er lucky my brother is attached to ye' or I'd kick ye' out. Go do yeh job!" He points at the crew and you huff, removing your towel glad hand from the mug and placing both down before stomping over to the table.

They all keep talking as you lean on a chair, waiting for someone to order. "He can't speak, by the way!" Samuel yells and they finally turn towards you, you're lucky there's only a few crew members here. Last you knew it had about twenty members.

With a tight lipped smile and an eye roll, you push off the chair your were leaning on and walk back to the bar. You had to make six beers and grab six meads, not the hardest task but you just really didn't want to serve them. "Oi, make that seven beers."

You look up and your annoyance and reluctance couldn't have gotten any higher. You were initially annoyed because you hated this group cause they were always loud and obnoxious, but with the new face in the group, the hat and the outfit he wore, and a familiar looking locket around his neck, now all you wanted to do was put down the mug in your hand and go punch him.

If looks could actually kill, Hongjoong's head would've been gone. With each fill, you're glaring at the side of his head. When you have six mugs, you carefully picked up the three mugs in each hand, taking them to the table. "You're missing a few things." His voice called out as you walked away and you turned back, showing your hands to indicate that you only have two hands.

You fill the last mug needed for the table then just grabbed a whole box of mead. You heavily place the mug down in front of Hongjoong then take six bottles out of the box before walking away and taking care of the box. As you attend to a patron at the bar, you hear a whistle and look over to see the captain flick two fingers for you to come over to the table.

You get the man at the bar his drink then go over to the table, offering a sarcastic smile to the male and cross your arms. "Oh, what's with the sour look, darling?" You scowl at the nickname and gesture with your hand for him to hurry up with what he wanted. "What? Don't want to talk to me? How can a cutie like you not want to talk with me?" Your eyes twitch as your glare hardens and you go to walk away, dropping your arms and wanting to get away from him but he grabs you wrist and pulls you into his lap, his right hand clasped around your right wrist and his left planting itself on your waist and squeezing, grip tight and fingers digging into you as you squirm to get off.

You didn't expect Hongjoong to be the type to flirt with guys but all you knew about him was the interaction from three years ago and the mutters you hear from other patrons. "Why you so quiet, handsome?" You turn to glare at him, leaning away from his tight hold on your waist. Your eyes flicker to the locket around his neck and your first instinct is to yank it off his neck, punch his face, then run away.

"Too stunned by my looks?" You look back up and glare, struggling in his hold but he just pulls you closer. "Come on, stop playing hard to get, just relax." You couldn't take it anymore, you reach out, yanking the locket and when Hongjoong let go of your wrist and his grip on your waist loosened, you stood up and punched him.

His crew stood up, pulling their swords out but Hongjoong recovered quickly, standing and grabbing your wrists. You struggle in his hold as he moves both your hands to one of his as he takes the locket back. You thrash in his hold, wanting the locket back but he smirks darkly and pockets it. "You're a feisty fella." Your mouth opens to complain but nothing comes out. "Oh, you really can't say anything."

Looking around, you see his crew still standing guard and Samuel's harsh stare is directed to you. You know you shouldn't have lashed out like that but you can't stand Hongjoong, you hate him for taking your voice, you hate him for ruining your life and the locket was right there, you couldn't stop yourself.

"Sammy, Mate, mind if I take him for a moment?" "Wha'ev'a. Just bring 'im back, yeh? He's the only server I got." "Will do. Boys, stay here."

Dragging you out of the building, you fight against his hold. "Stop moving." He yanks on your wrists, dragging you further and further from the tavern and over to a ramp. You stop walking, not really wanting to get on his ship but he yanks you up onto the ramp.

Once on the boat, you let's go of your wrists, throwing you onto the deck and you turn over, propping yourself up on your elbows as you glare at him angrily. "Put the pout away, fish." Your scowl falters as you look away then back up at him.

"Yeah, I recognize you. How are you here?" You glance to the pocket he put the locket in then back up to him. He takes it out, holding it up. "This? This turned you human?" You push yourself up, standing to be face to face, tapping your throat. "So taking your voice took away your tail? That's dumb." You slapped him, his head turning with the impacted and he holds the locket away when you try to grab it. "You are starting to get on my nerves."

Your eyes widen as you point to yourself. "Yes, You are annoying me." You throw your arms up. "How?" You nod. "You're very physical." Your hands rest on your hips as your glare returns. You really wish you could tell him all the words on your mind but even if he did give your voice back, you haven't used it in three years, how would you sound? Could you even speak if you did have it?

You point at the locket then at your neck. "Give it back?" You nod. "Mmm...no." You physically deflate and open your mouth to speak again but end up huffing when nothing comes out. You grew to enjoy not talking but in this particular moment that's all you want to do. How would he feel if he had to leave his family because his means of survival were taken away? How would he feel if he couldn't communicate like normal? How would he feel if he was in your position?

You went to slap him again but he caught your wrist again. "Stop that." You tilt your head towards the locket and stare at him with a desperate look. "I'm not falling for this look, you aren't getting it back. You took my father, I took your voice." You wanted to say you didn't, you were practically a guppy when his dad attacked your cove. You tap your neck again, giving up and pleading to the pirate to give your voice back. You need to actually talk to him, you need to speak, you need your voice.

"Y'know, without a voice, you're cute." Your desperate look turns into confusion as you back away and he finally lets go of your wrist. "What? Without your voice I can focus on your face." You hold up three fingers, point at your throat, then tap your temple.

"What?" You hold up three fingers, point at the locket, then tap his temple. "How would I remember your voice?" You nod. "I-" He finally went silent and looked away from you, causing you to look at him confused. "You can't tell my crew." You roll your eyes and gesture for him to continue. He takes the locket between his fingers and taps it on his palm. "Well, I- Uh...I listen to it..." He presses a button on the side and opens it slightly, your own voice meeting your ears. "And since I'm telling the truth, the reason I said what I said is because without your voice, I'm now focused on your looks and not just the pull of your voice."

Inhaling then exhaling, you place a hand on top of his and he looks up, he doesn't flinch the locket away, just letting you hold his hand. You tilt your head, moving your hand from his to tap the locket gently, then tap your throat again. "But I promised to avenge my father." You tilt your head, raising a brow. "What?" Nodding towards his hands you look back up at him.

"You'll just take your voice and swim back home." You shake your head. "How do I know you're telling the truth?" You point to yourself, your lips, then at him. He may have ruined your life but damn, you couldn't deny he was good looking.

"Why would you want to kiss me? You literally punched me when I was flirting with you earlier." You shrugged before raising your free hand to the lapel of his coat and pull him in until his lips connected to yours. You never thought your first kiss would be with a pirate, his lips were chapped but you two fit together so smoothly.

He leaned in closer and you felt his hand move and open the locket completely, lifting it until it was closer to your throat. The feeling was overwhelming, causing you to pull away and gasp, eyes opening wide as your hand leaves his and flys up to your throat while you look down at the now dark locket that once glowed with your voice.

Even with your voice now returned to you, you didn't know how to speak, didn't know what to say. You genuinely got comfortable with not speaking after so long. "Where's..." He starts and you look back up to realize he hadn't pulled back from you completely. "M-My..." Your voice is raspy and it kind of hurt as you rub your throat and attempt to clear your throat.

"Weird..." You mutter with a look of disgust and Hongjoong laughs softly. "W-What?" "The look on your face." "I-It...Is. Been...th-three...y-years." You rasp out quietly. "I thought if you got your voice back, you got everything back too.." You shake your head. "Been too...long...no more...magic." "Oh..."

"My D-Dad...t-took yours...i-isn't it e-enough...that you m-made...me...an o-outcast...of...my...f-family..." He hums with a sigh. "I guess." You go to slap his chest but once again, he catches your wrist. "Slapping isn't very nice, y'know?" "S-so i-is...t-taking my...voice..." "I regret what I did, you're too talkative now." You hum, tilting your head. "Th-Thought y-you l-liked my v-voice?" "I'm thinking about shutting you up again." "Th-Then do it."

He presses his lips to yours again, pulling a squeak out of you as you weren't expecting him to kiss you again. He pulled back with a laugh and you figured it was because of the noise you made so you take your hand away from his and slap his shoulder. "I-It's n-not f-funny." "Exactly, it was cute." You playfully shove him away and walk away, heading to the ramp when he stops you, his right hand grabbing your left and pulling you back over to him, his left hand placing itself on your waist as laughter kept spilling from him.

"I-I'm sorry, okay. For everything." "Y-You j-just wanted...t-to make...y-your dad p-proud." "Yeah, but taking your voice took you away from your family." You shrug. "A-At least...now I-I c-can yell b-back...at r-rude p-patrons." "What? You're not going back there." "I-I h-have t-to..." "Instead...I'm going to take you back to your cove...to see your family."

You stare at him wide eyed. "Th-That's...That's a d-death w-wish." "We've done it once...we can do it again." "W-why?" He shrugged. "I ruined a cute boys life, I want to make it up to him." "I-I'm s-stuck...w-with the f-flirting...a-aren't I?" "Yes."

When his crew returns, you were waiting in his quarters and he was in front of the door, waiting for his crew to settle down. He gave you new clothes and one of his extra coats. "Oi, Capti'n, Sammy boy is upset. Where's his server boy?" "He's not his server boy anymore." You heard a knock and you open the door, stepping out and next to Hongjoong. "He's now my right hand." "Yeh addin' a mute boy to our crew? How's he gonna be useful on a ship?"

"M-More th-than...y-you f-from wh-what...I-I've been t-told." They all look at you with wide eyes. "He can talk?" "He can and it's best if you treat him with respect." "Why should we?" Another crew guy asked, stepping forward in an attempt to intimidate you. "He's my partner now, you disrespect him, you're disrespecting me." "I don't buy it." Hongjoong scowls softly before snapping and two loyal crew members take the guy by his arms and drag him to the ramp but instead of throwing him down the ramp they throw him overboard into the water.

"Anyone else?" They all stayed silent and he smirked. "Good. Ramp up, we're heading out." "Where are we going sir?" "Don't worry about it." He looks over at you and you meet his eye. "You'll know soon enough." He says still speaking to the crew member as he shrugs and walks away.

"W-Why c-can't...they kn-know?" He wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you closer. "Don't feel like telling them yet." He shrugs with a smirk and you chuckle, going to walk away to go up to the wheel but his arm pulls you back, both hands now on your waist as he leans in to kiss you. Another squeak leaves you as you're not use to kissing him yet and he laughs against your lips. "J-Joong!" You scold as he keeps laughing, hands squeezing your sides gently. "I'm sorry, it cute." He leaves another peck to your lips. "And keep calling me that. I like it." "Wh-What if I c-call you m-my captain?" "Careful. It sounds way too good coming from you." "I-I'll k-keep that i-in mind for l-later."

He smiles, kissing you again before pulling away and taking your hand to pull you up to the wheel. Behind it is a chair and he sits in it, pulling you with him to sit on his lap and wrap his arms around you. Feeling bold, you reach up and take his hat, placing it on your own head, making him laugh.

"You're lucky, fish boy."

"That I am, Captain."

Oh my lord I think this is the longest thing I've written. Feels like it is anyway.

I'm way behind on requests and just posting in general so I gave myself a goal: Write and finish 5 requests. My reward for myself is writing something inspired by that one Felix concept photo.

Boys skin just needs marked and bitten

Anyway, this is the first request of my goal that I've finished. For the other four, my plan is Agere Seung, HyunHo angst/smut, SeungIn w/ Innie in a skirt, then Corruption with Felix but it might change depending what I end up getting in the mood to finish but either way they will get done.

thanks to @succubus-hansol who is like amazing and motivates me but also reminds me to not overwork. Literally the best online friend I've ever made. 🥰

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this, I loved making the lore, I guess, and coming up with all the details.

[the-real-treasure]

Treasure Treasure!

An OPLA Sanji x Reader

Master List Here

Previous Chapter: Treasure Troves in Orange Groves

Chapter Ten: Poisson d'Arlong

Summary: The Strawhat Crew fight to protect their navigator and to avenge her dream against a scaled tyrant. After that evil is defeated, another emerges to teach them the true dangers of what they've set out to do.

Trigger Warnings: Tattoos, needles, childhood trauma, overstimulation, blood, sort of cannabilism? Reader imagines torturing and eating Arlong so take that as you will, fire, violence, threats and descriptions of violence, murder, Reader's Devil Fruit power is overwhelming and overstimulating, being dowsed in sea water is akin to being drugged Word Count: 9,330 **Edited: 20/09/24**

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The way Nami describes getting her tattoo makes your skin crawl and you curl your hands with the desire to peel the flesh away from your bones to ease the discomfort. She was only little, the baby-faced tangerine head you saw from her memories, bound up in that dark dank room day after day to draw maps for a man who held nothing but vitriol in his heart for any human in the world. You don’t remember gaining your tattoos, their origins now even shakier in your mind then they had been growing up with the involvement of Roku.

Nami talked quietly, very unlike the snarky snappishness you were used to from your only female crewmate and the affect Arlong had on her when he wasn’t even present made your stomach roll and the energy in your chest quiver and roil as the rage built in you. You want to descale and broil him in butter, cream some potatoes and serve him on a bed of steam veggies. Or ask Sanji to do it so you don’t burn everything to a crispy husk. She was still wearing Luffy’s hat as you all made it to the remnants of the village, her shoulder wrapped to protect the torn skin of where she had driven the blade into it.

The buildings were wholly gutted by the flames the fishman pirates had set, shells of the foundations and support beams left empty and barren. The ground was black with ash and soot and the air stank of wet cinders from the villagers’ desperate attempts to douse the flames. Despite their best effort, the village was still reduced to nothing but ashen ruins.

“Arlong did this?” Sanji is staring around aghast as the rest of you at the destruction. “Why?” Nami’s throat bobs as she looks around her.

“To punish the villagers. And to punish me.” You run your knuckles gently up and down the length of her injured arm. You don’t know if it does anything, but you hope the small comfort offers her some relief as the villagers, led by Nojiko and Genzo, come to meet you all. “What’s going on?” Her hand grabs a hold of your wrists and squeezes it tightly, nails digging in more desperately than they did in Buggy’s big top.

“Nojiko told us about your sacrifice. We didn’t know. Can you ever forgive us?” Her hand grips tighter.

“There’s nothing to forgive. Coco Village is my home.”

“Then it’s our turn to sacrifice. We’re done living in fear. We’re gonna march on Arlong Park. If those fishmen want a fight-” Nami interrupts, voice desperate.

“That’s not a fight, that’s a massacre. You will all be killed.”

“And I’m sure that’s exactly what Arlong wants.” Your voice is a low mutter, but Nami gestures at you in agreement.

“If there’s no hope for us to buy our freedom, then I say we die trying to fight for it!” The villagers cheer and raise their weapons as Nami watches them all hopelessly.

“No, everyone please! No, I-I won’t let you do that.” The cheering cuts of abruptly as they all look at her, “This is my fight.”

“No.” Luffy’s voice is sharp and serious from beside Nami. “This is our fight. Right guys?”

“Finally I get to cut something.” Zoro’s voice is monotone as always while Usopp worries beside him.

“But how are we gonna beat Arlong? We saw what he did at Baratie.”

“Grilling would probably work. Or boiling.” You answer simply and Sanji looks down at you with a confused smile, “What? It’s, like, the easiest way to prepare fish?”

“Every creature has a weakness.” Zoro sort of agrees with you, “Maybe Nakayoshi has a point.”

“You can just call me Y/n.”

“No. It’s a matter of principal now.” Usopp cuts through your glare.

“Even bulletproof ones?”

“I’ll know it when I see it.” Luffy’s voice has lost the harshness, but he is no less confident as he speaks, “And when I do… I won’t hesitate.”

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The fishmen are busy carting about crates and boxes before the explosions go off. Large puffs of thick white smoke begin to pour through the air of Arlong Park. Luffy kicks open the barred gate with no issue, leading the other six of you in to the fray as the smoke begins to clear.

“Fishmen!” One you remember from Baratie yells out to the rest of the park, “Stand by to repel boarders!”

You all ready yourselves for the fight. Luffy cracks his knuckles as Zoro unsheathes the Wado Ichimonji, Sanji pulls back one leg and Usopp draws his slingshot. You drop your chains from their homes in your arms, the weight clunking at your feet.

“Where’s Arlong?”

“He’s probably in the map room.” Nami is the only one not to pull a weapon and Luffy looks back at her.

“Then that’s where we’re going.” They take off for the map room and Usopp darts for the rocks to your left for a higher vantage point, leaving you in between Sanji and Zoro in front of the wooden gates as the fishmen charge.

Sanji and Zoro leap into action, swinging and kicking at the fishmen as they advance. You wind back, long lengths of chain clinking against each other as you crack them across scaley backs, heads and shoulders, leaving stinging red burns on their skin.

You crack your chain whips through the rock bridge Luffy and Nami had crossed, barely missing Zoro as he ducks away continuing to fight, and the collision knocks substantial chunks from the yellow stone, leaving them to tumble messily into the water.

Your chains wind around the legs of one fishman as he leaps across to the stone platform Zoro is standing on. You land on his shoulders and dig your nails in, tearing out chunks of scaley skin and fishy flesh as he screams and topples. You hop off at the very last moment, the saltiness in the air enough of a warning for you to avoid the water, and you land beside the boys again as the liquid turns a murky red, your hands now dripping in blood. Zoro is already turning on Sanji, who had apparently stolen a kill from him.

“I had that one.”

“If you had him, I wouldn’t have got him.”

“Boys, you’re both very pretty, can we stay focused on the matter at hand please?” Sanji smirks cheekily at you.

“Oh you think I’m pretty.”

“They only said that to save you dignity, don’t get a big head.” Zoro snarks and then points the tip of his katana to your nose, “You, don’t give him a big head.”

“Stop calling me Nakayoshi.”

“No.”

“Then no. Sanji you look beautiful in this lighting!”

The blonde man cackles as more fishmen begin to spill out from deeper in the park, roaring and yelling as they come. Several dive into the water around you, and each of the three of you take off in a different direction, Sanji to your left, Zoro to your right and you move back across the inlaid boulders towards the main gates.

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You can hear the boys across the pond bantering as two fishmen leap out of the water at you, darting in and out so much you have to spin to keep up. They bob in and out, swiping and clawing at your skin, the salt water seeping into the wounds making you groggy and filling your head with sawdust and cotton.

“You look tired!” Sanji spins and knocks two fishmen down with his outstretched leg, and you have to refocus your brain as he flips his hair dramatically. “Maybe you should take a break.” Zoro stands from his kneeling position and easily incapacitates a fishman sneaking behind. One of your two manages to land a full faceful of salt water right at you, leaving you dripping and even more dazed than before.

“Maybe you oughta get back in the kitchen.”

“Quit screwing around! Luffy needs us!” Sanji and Zoro slice down the fishmen around them as the two you were fighting duck back below the water, your form swaying and off-balance.

“You just got here, you don’t know what Luffy needs.”

“I know he needs my cooking.”

“You mean putting two slices of bread together?” A cackle resounds from the bag as they both turn to glare at it.

“Uh-oh someone’s feeling threatened!”

“Shut up!” The roar is instantaneous from both of them, hatred for the clown swelling.

“Then get me back to my body! We’re close. I can feel my toes! Trust me. I can help you guys win this thing!”

Their attention diverts, though, as you scream angrily, both fishmen once again popping up and away again, now even further into the small lagoon pool. With a roar, you swing both your chains up and over your head, before slamming down full force across the surface of the water. The force sends waves lapping to the tiles sides, but neither chain sinks.

Instead, the water around them begins to bubble and froth ferociously, your own anger overheating as the fishmen still in the pool watch the surface as it foams and rages. With a roar you, lift them again, slamming the chains into the water again and again, steam beginning to rise from it and fishmen begin to pinken and let out gurgling screams as the surface, in a moment of sheer lack of ability, ignites in a roaring azure inferno, sending several of the fishmen who weren’t as deep, shooting out of the scalding water, sides dripping with molten liquid as their skin bubbles and peels with blisters.

Both men from your crew back away from the inferno, and watch, slightly terrified as your figure emerges from the flames, eyes boiling and chains ablaze, the metal white-hot. Heat washes over them from the fire as it splutters boiling hot water across the tile around them.

The bag around Sanji’s neck continues to shake and plea to be reunited with his body and you join the other two in glaring at it.

“I swear, clown, if you screw us over…”

“We have a currently on-fire pool of saltwater I don’t think any of us will mind using to give you a dip.” As Sanji upends the bag on to the ground at his feet, Buggy’s head spends no time in zipping right back to himself and making himself whole again in the shooting gallery.

“Yes!” He unattaches his hands and hops down from the prize board giddily. “YES! Oh, it’s so much better than I even remembered.” As he spots the three of you glaring at him, he stops clutching at himself and, after a moment of staring in shock at the burning pool, instead chooses to shoot you all the double bird. “Hey, so um, I’m gonna get outta here.”

“Into the pool, I think.”

“Hey!” Your suggestion was ignored as Zoro barks after him.

“Sorry kiddos! I’d love to make things right, but it’s time to exit stage left.” AS he prances up the stairs away from you all you call out behind him.

“JUST BECAUSE THAT WAS FUNNY DOESN’T MEAN WE’RE NOT RIGHTFULLY PISSED!” You screamed after his retreating figure who shoots you a thumbs up at the compliment. “NEXT TIME I SEE YOU, I WILL KILL YOU! THAT’S A PROMISE!”

“Fucking clown.” Zoro swears behind you.

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“How dare you strike down my brothers?” You all peer through the flame as another two fishmen you recognise from Baratie storm in through the wide open gates. “You won’t be so lucky against the might of my fishman karate." The bluer one raises his hand, curling it into a fist as he levels it at the three of you.

"And my fishman judo." The orange and brown one spoke as well, long barbed tail whipping behind him as he dropped into a half squat. Sanji snarls at them, and with a yell they leap into the still flaming pool, scalding hot water pinkening their skin as they torpedo towards you three, and as the blue one leaps from the scalding water, its spouts out with him, showering you all in boiling water as he lunges at Sanji, who he lands on with a wet slam, sending them back several feet, the scalding water already cooling.

The brown-orange one lands upright by you, and you can make out fully now he resembles some kind of ray or skate, face flat and mouth snarling at you. With a yell, you swing your chains at his head. He catches them, and using your momentum and a raised leg, sends you plummeting face first in the still salty wet tiles around you. The other one straddles the blonde man in a choke, Zoro attacks his back, though he easily catches the katana and pushes him away, sending Zoro careening backwards.

You right yourself and dodge around Zoro and the fishman as they trade blows, scampering over to Sanji, who is still laid out prone on the ground. Helping him off the ground, you turn as Zoro is kicked away from the fight and whip your chains out to strike the advancing ray fishman. He catches them on his forearm and the wind around and around it, leaving raised, scorching burns on his already pinkish skin, leaving blisters all in their wake. He roars at you, tugging on the chains to send you flying across the burning pool and into the rock formations past it. Sanji jumps into the fight after shouting your name, kicking and spinning to try and knock the brute off his feet, as his eyes searched the thick steam to catch sight of you, just barely doing so before being sent flying himself.

All three of you grunt as you try to stand, Zoro and Sanji much closer to your joint opponent as you had been thrown on a harsher curve, leaving your chains to trail in the water.

"You're no match for me. My kicks can break a ship's keel." You scoff at the fishman as you hear Sanji reply as he attempts to stand.

"That's nothing." His voice is incredibly strained. "You should have seen Zeff's kicks when he found an eggshell in the crème brûlée."

"Or when I got the wrong wine delivered that shithead in Shells Town when he first let me do the stock orders by myself." Zoro groaned at the pair of you.

"I get it. Zeff was mean to you. Boo-hoo." With a grunt, the blue fishman runs at the now standing Sanji, kicking him square in the chest and sending him flipping head over heels on to the ground again. 

Zoro is sent spinning into the wall beside you two, you propped up against it as the salt water steam clatters about in your lungs, making you woozy once again. The fishmen stand side-by-side, glaring down at you all.

"Nami is a fool to have her faith in such weak compatriots." Your mind feels like its floating in soup but a grimace still curls on your lips as you stand straight.

"Don't you ever," you snarl, "bad mouth my friends." Sanji joins you, shucking off his jacket and standing beside you.

"And don't think I'm gonna let you get away with hurting my fut-" the words catch in his throat and he awkwardly reshapes them as they fall from his mouth "-favourite person." Zoro stares at him dolefully at the pathetic save, but you hardly notice the mocking glare he throws the blonde as you square up to the fishmen before you.

"Now you've done it." You both leap forward, striking your respective fishmen.

"Côtelette!" Sanji yells as he kicks the blue fishman's side harshly, and you match him with a schring-ing swipe of your chains and a shout of "Cófra!" The shouts and hits continue to match in tandem with each other, the pair of you moving in sync as you had for years.

"Collier!" A strike to the collar bone as you hit with a spinning whack across the stomach "Boilg!"

"Épaule!" A spinning kick from the ground connects with his shoulder as you scream out "Cosa!" and sweep the legs and tail from underneath your foe.

"Poitrine!" Pushing himself up and into the fishman, Sanji sends him back with a full kick to the chest as you roll out your chains and lash your chains across his face and neck "Ceann !"

Both fishman get pushed back with a snarl, but you weren't about to let them start the fight again after getting their breaths back. Looking to Sanji, he gives you a nod and you both launch forward in your finishing moves.

"Mouton Shot!"

"Slabhra Stór!"

With a well placed kick, Sanji launches the fishman back over the bar counter, knocking him into and through the wood. You join him, slamming your chains down in an X shape onto the other, sending him flying through the now cascading debris. Zoro comes up behind you as you both right yourselves, and you find yourself still wobbly from the sea water steam still lingering in the air around you.

"Mouton Shot? Slabhra Stór?"

"I told you before," You reply drearily, and Sanji finishes for you, hand resting on your back and pulling your lolling head to his shoulder.

"All great fighters call out their finishing moves."

"Yeah, you're gonna fit in just fine." A manic screaming echoes through the front gates as Usopp rounds them, slingshot armed and at the ready.

"NEVER FEAR, THE GREAT CAPtain Usopp is..." he looks around at the dozens of fishmen bodies scattered across the ground by your trio, completely missing the fire pool still burning away. "...is... Oh. You guys did pretty good in here. Good job guys."

"Thanks Usopp." You shoot him a drowsy thumbs up and he points to you.

"What's with them?"

"Must be the salt water." Sanji replies, still holding you close to him as he fans the air around you to rid it of excess steam. Zoro and Usopp exchange smirks at the position, "It's sort of like getting drunk, except you just go weak and sleepy everytime." 

You blink back to full consciousness as the tinkling sounds echo out from the tall main building behind the park. Sanji lets you stand yourself as he spreads his arms out happily at the sight of the running red head approaching. You barely catch his cheer of "NAMI!" as she barrels past him, looping you, Usopp and Zoro into a tight hug.

"You're all okay!" You snigger slightly as Sanji's face sours and his arms drop back to his sides. "What happened, why-" she stops and registers the mass of flames surrounding you all. Usopp finally registers it too and peers at you confused.

“Why is the water on fire?” the pair are now staring worriedly at the flickering flames, the water level having diminished with the rising steam, but the flames no less brilliant. You don't look behind you, so you don't see as Sanji pulls his hand across his neck to signal for them to stop asking.

“Look, we all know I can’t cook, but that doesn’t mean I can’t boil a few fish when needed.” You chirp smugly. You look back just as he stops, smiling innocently down at you. Nami and Usopp give you shaky smiles when you turn back to them with a large proud smile. "We have already established, I possess an extreme lack of skill in the kitchen, so I will graciously allow Sanji to continue in the role of head chef of the Straw Hats." You wave graciously to the blonde as he swipes at you with his foot, catching the back of your ankle and nearly knocking you off balance. "Hey!"

"Where's Luffy?" You all look to the slowly crumbling building.

"Still inside, fighting Arlong."

"He's gonna be alright." As Usopp opens his mouth, the entire building begins to shudder and groan, the bells on each corner ringing with each wobble. "Right?"

You all watch with horror as the building begins to implode and collapse, dust sweeping over you as rubble crumbles down the sides. Nami lets out a terrified scream of "LUFFY!" as each level collapses down on to the one below, the building completely destroyed in seconds.

There are several moments of silence as the dust settles and debris falls further, scattering across the ground as it falls down the uneven ledges left from the collapse.

Your crew holds their breath as one for a moment.

And then two.

In the third, a rumble shakes the main mound of dirt and dust, and Luffy's fist shoots from the rubble, pushing pieces clear before the boy leaps out, hair, clothes and skin beige with plaster dust but looking unharmed.

"NAMI!" He yells down to your frame stills and tears burn your eyes, "You are our friend!" Again, you push your knuckles into the skin of her arm and there's no hesitation as she snatches hold of it, clinging for dear life. "We are your crew!" You all begin to laugh around her as she stares up at your captain in a daze.

You wiggle your joined hands and she looks at your beaming face, tears rolling down hers. Her smile matches yours.

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You stand by Sanji behind the large serving bowl, handing him fresh clean bowls as people come up for their meals. You smile as children run past with sparklers, giggling clear through the chatter of the festival atmosphere. "Bon appétit." You both smiled as the young lady as she walked away with her portion, next bowl at the ready as you scooped in some of the waiting diced and sliced fruits and vegetables in front of you. You snigger as you go to tap the large pan, only for Sanji to swat your hand away. "Oi, I'm not looking to serve burnt food to these people," He ignored your grumbling as Nojiko returns to the line again. "Oh hey!" You grin at her as she stands looking at your chef sassily.

"I'm gonna need this recipes too." Sanji chuckles as he scoops more into the bowl for her, "You should really write a cookbook, you know?"

"Weeeell, you know, a true artist never reveals his secrets."

"Especially when he's the best cook in the entire world." You praise easily, poking through the veggies to top her dish, as Nojiko smirks at the red crawling up Sanji's neck and cheeks.

"Kitchen running too hot for you chef?" You look up at her a moment, before spinning on Sanji, eyeing his red face and leaning up to investigate as he leans away.

"You better not be getting sick-"

"-I'm fine, you cheeky, get off, I have people to serve-"

"-we don't have a doctor yet Sanji, you can't be sick!" Nojiko and then next woman you serve, still fussing at Sanji, giggle to each other at your well meaning care that is only flustering the chef more as Zoro approaches again.

"Oooh! Back for seconds, must have liked it!"

"Yeah, it was okay," he replies with a shrug.

"That plate says different."

"Yeah, d'ya lick it clean Roronoa?" His eyes turn to you as you smirk up at him.

"What."

"If you're only gonna call me Nakayoshi then I'm only gonna call you Roronoa." You nod with a finality that makes Sanji chuckle as he ladles more into Zoro's dish, the deadpan man staring down at you.

"Fine. I won't call you Nakayoshi-"

"-thank you!"

"Log Pose." You still completely, hands frozen as they reach for the tongs in the veggie bowl. A 'snrrk' leaves Sanji before he can stop it and you whirl on him with fury in your eyes.

"I'm sorry-"

"Don't laugh! I don't wanna be called Log Pose! I already had to deal with Magic Compass from the clown! Zoro no come on!" He ignores you, snatching the plate from Sanji's hand as he tries to hide a grin.

"Hm, good portion. It's the least you can do, considering I saved your ass from those fishmen."

"What? I saved your arse." You roll your eyes as your own complaints over the nickname are quickly forgotten in place of bitching at each other again. It's not banter anymore, you decide, it's catty bitching.

"You didn't even get your hands dirty."

"At least I don't need three swords to prove I'm a man." Zoro doesn't react or respond, instead turning and walking off as Sanji smirks at his 'win'.

You mutter to yourself as he walks away and Sanji chuckles gently at you.

"Cannot believe him." You mumble, scooping out the last of the veggies available into the last few bowls and hand them up to Sanji. "Calling me Log Pose. Of all the things." He scraps the last out of his own large pan, the ever present rule of not wasting food running through your action as you perform them mindlessly. "Why couldn't he just use my name, like I asked? Stupid annoying, mossball of a man." Trays in front of you clear and stacked for washing, you turn to Sanji only to find him already looking at you. His gaze is painfully soft, a familiar warmth you just want to melt into as his blue eyes capture your swirling aqua and gold. His hand rests on your shoulder, warmth spreading through your body like he was made of molten chocolate. "What's up, hm?" He blinks, slow and lazy, eyes full of his heart, "Where are you then? Where's my Sanji got to?"

You don't know it, but hearing those words make his inside vibrate with warmth, he loves you he loves you he loves you. As you stare up at him, face and hair lit with the golden warmth of the fire light as it flickers over the groves and features he has long since memorised, he sees again, as if for the first time, how enthralling you are. All pure happy beauty, not marred by the dark past that follows you both, but moulded with it, carved and reshaped into the divine sight before him. His hand slides down your arm, following the groves set by the chains of tattoos, or tattoos of chains. He can wrap his whole hand around your upper arm, and for a moment a well-known shot of worry laces through him. You were always a bit too small for comfort, something he had confided in to Zeff. The older chef had assured him that weight and health would come with time, as it was the ultimate healer. But here you were, almost a decade off that rock, and you still hadn't quite made up for the weight you had lost, a small tummy perhaps, but not quite the gusto for eating he had hoped to inspire even with your ravings about his skill to others, still always waiting to eat after he does, making sure he got some bites in before trying any for yourself. It was not a battle to fight today, or a war he would win without you working with him, so he said nothing and allowed his hand to slide further until it landed at your wrist, red and inflamed from the chains hanging from them. His eyes never wavered and a small smile quirked your lips even as your brows furrowed in confusion.

"Thank you." That was not what you had expected from him. You weren't sure what you were expecting, but not that.

"What for?" Your eyebrows furrowed lower and a smile grew on his face at your confusion. "I didn't do anything. Was just cleaning up some plates and stuff."

"No!" He starts with a laugh, the sound enveloping you and you squeeze the sound into your heart, which was already crammed full of him, but you could always make room. "I meant for, you know," he gestured over to where the rest of the crew had gathered as Usopp wowed the locals with the fictitious events of today. "Them. Bringing them. Meeting Luffy and him having such an impact and still wanting me to come." His eyes don't leave the others, but yours never stray from his face. "I probably could have spent my life at Baratie and wouldn't even have noticed if not for you throwing me head first into the thick of this. And I know they don't know me yet, or anything and I'm sure I have to play catchup with" his eyes roll slightly, "most of them." You snigger at his exasperation, but it smoothes out at the sound and his eyes find yours again, as always. "But you didn't have to bring me, you could have left me to my dissolving dream and gone out and sailed across the whole world and you didn't. You came back for me, and you took my hand and pulled me along too." Your smile crinkles your eyes.

"As always." He breaths a laugh out of his nose.

"Yeah." His face mellows out once more and he takes a deep breath, "Mon Cœur, I just wanted to say-"

"MARINES!" The shout rings out above the cheering that had started behind you and you both swivel around to watch as tens of Marines marched into the yard. "Form lines." Sanji's hand tightens and you pull him with you as you move towards the crowd where the rest of your crew stood. You push through the throng of people, ending up behind Luffy, with Sanji by your side. It was complete silence except for rhythmic marching of feet on dirt as they fell into formation, the leaders, the ones from the ship, Luffy's grandpa and his subordinates, stare at your group of six. Zoro puts his hand on the Wado Ichimonji, but the second in command in the fedora warned him off.

"I'd rethink that if I were you."

"So these are the Straw Hat Pirates. Huh. Marines, arrest them."

"Sir," a small voice, belonging to Koby, spoke beside him, "the Straw Hats didn't destroy Coco Village. It was Arlong." Garp peered at him a moment before turning back to you all.

"You have your orders, cadet." The pinkette, normally shy and retreating, stood firm and stepped out in front of his commander.

"No."

"What did you say?"

"I said no, sir."

"You do realise there are severe punishments for disobeying direct orders?"

"I disagree with those orders, sir." A smile grows on your face and peering over at Luffy he has an expression to match. What you weren't expecting was for Haircut Helmeppo, notorious nepo-baby of the 153rd Branch, to step forward and join him.

"Me too." Garp lets out a heaved sigh and chuckles.

"Anyone else like to follow their lead? Or do you all wanna follow orders instead?" A group of Marine cadets, armed with their standard rifles, move around Garp, Bogard, Koby and Helmeppo and aim for your crew. "Any of them move, make sure it's their last." Garp steps up and begins to approach your captain. "Come 'ere boy." You watch them as they step away from the group, and your body moves without your say so, that power in your chest now frantic and writhing, as you step along behind Luffy but still at a small distance. You miss the click of the rifles aimed at you, and Sanji's hand slipping from your grasp, but you also miss the way Bogard waves the cadets attention back to the others, instead matching your unconscious movement as your captain and the Vice-Admiral square off to each other. "I gave you every opportunity to follow my path, to become a respected Marine. But instead, you chose to become a pirate." A small smile tugs on Luffy's face.

"No, Grandpa. I've always been a pirate."

"No more running boy. Last chance. Give it up."

"That's not really my thing." Garp grips the shoulder of his overcoat and sends it flying over his shoulder, where it, with the heavy regalia and medals, pummels a poor cadet in the face, nearly knocking him over.

"Then show me what you've got."

With a yell, Luffy launches at him, but Garp with surprising speed ducks out of the way and throws a heavy punch into Luffy's stomach, sending him backwards.

As Luffy is thrown headlong in your direction, the world around you freezes and you think for a moment.

On one hand, you could move out of the way. Luffy's not that big or tall, so dodging him wouldn't be too difficult, you're used to getting away from people much bigger.

On the other however, you know this would lead to your captain landing away from the huge crowd of Marines and civilians, alone. This boy, who had stood by you all, who had encouraged you all to follow your dreams and join him in his, being left to fight by himself, even if he happily would, it didn't sit right with you.

You don't move.

As your captain bowls into you, you're hit with immediate regret. He isn't big, but he is dense, the feeling of him striking you in the chest is like being struck with half of Kaya's mansion worth of bricks, and you are both sent smashing through the remnants of someone's home or business, the seared wood crumbling under your combined weight. It reminds you, momentarily, of your first meeting in that pub. The same ache in your chest is present now as it was then.

Where Luffy stands with more ease, you're hit with a wave of mangled thoughts and feelings and dreams and wishes that haven't quite sorted themselves after being solidly simple for so long. A tidal wave of all the people around you slams down into your head and leaves you completely breathless for a moment.

Reprieve comes, however, in the form of a warm hand grabbing yours that was listlessly hanging in the air. An aura of certainty surrounds you as you gaze up at your captain. It's like staring straight at the sun after a lifetime of darkness.

As a child you were told eating the Treasure Treasure fruit was the stupidest decision you could have ever made. It was pointless, offering no additional skills to assist or support the Supreme Commander's family or scientific endeavours. As useless as the overly emotional boy you were assigned to follow and serve, branded with the number 3 with a line scored through it, and the marking of your country, a clear '66' etched into your skin forever.

But, as you lie in this courtyard, surrounded by marines vying for your capture and execution, and stare up at the grinning boy in a scruffy straw hat, you realise that no.

There were much much stupider decisions to be made.

You face cracks, a grin of equal excitement breaking out on you as he pulls you upright and you stare at him with a manic glee you're sure would be frightening to anyone else.

"You can go back to the others, ya know?" He mumbles, face stretched over that grin of his. "This isn't your fight." His eyes weave over to Garp for a moment before settling back on you, hand still clasped in his.

"You're my captain." Your grin matching his in ferocity, "Of course it is."

To this boy, this boy who resembles flashes of a memory from a blue-haired clown, of a face moustached and grinning in every worn and ragged wanted poster you had seen with the highest bounty known to man, to this boy, you're an equal. And as you turn as a pair, eyes blazing into the pair of Marines staring down at you, Garp and his grandson locking eyes and yours snap to the second in command, Bogard, who has his katana drawn and ready.

Neither manic smile leaves your faces, even as his brows furrow and his teeth disappear behind his lips.

"This is what you wanted right?" Garp calls, the Marine pair advancing towards you, "To be a pirate. Well, I'll show you what Marines do to pirates." As he walks along behind his vice-Admiral, Bogard unsheathes his katana, eyes laser focused on you.

"I don't want to fight you, Grandpa." You drop one of your chains from its snug spot in your arm to your side.

"You've been fighting me your entire life." As Garp swings down at him with all his might, Luffy pushes you to the side and dives out the way. Garp easily crumbles another section of flame-rotted wood, and you have to lurch your head back to avoid being beheaded as Bogard swings at you. Luffy swings out at Garp, who dodges, leaving the punch to hit random debris behind him. "When are you gonna learn that you can't win?!" With another punch, Luffy is sent flying through another ruined building, and though you go to follow like Garp does, the 'shing'-ing of a blade behind you halts that plan.

Grabbing hold of the other end of your chain, shorter than you would normally have it, you lift it above your head just as Bogard slashes at you. You continue to parry and push off the attacks of the second, but he's fast and doesn't seem to be tiring.

"God, they must work you lot to the bone." You grunt, catching on your chain as his katana strikes at you, and wrapping it up, blade caught up in the links. "If the 153rd had been trained half as well, I don't think we would've even made it out of Shells Town."

"We're seeing to that, don't you worry." He rips his blade free, and he swings at you over and over, catching the metal of the chain and sending sparks of hot white liquid metal cascading to the ground with every strike.

"I thought I'd trained you better than this!" You can hear Garp taunting Luffy, but you don't look away from your own adversary, as he removes his own coat from his shoulders, dropping it to the ground to be stained with soot and ash. As he did, you snap your chain out at his face, barely missing as he darts back, instead smacking the grey fedora off his head, and his attention follows you slap the metal on to his extended wrist, coiling it around before pulling taut. He holds out, keeping a firm stance and feet solidly placed as you hear your captains voice ring out.

"You did!" You watch as Bogard's eyes flicker to Garp and feel the resistance in his arms give as, instead of yanking back on the chain, he lets you pull him to you. A grin cracked your face. You can almost hear Roku's snarling laugh as you pull the same move he did, yanking Bogard off his feet and letting him fly towards you. As the metal of the katana blade zooms at your face, you dodge your head to the side, lift and twist your body, leg out to catch the man's momentum. Luffy's voice echoes through the air as Bogard lifts off the ground, his eyes wide with rage as you send him sailing past you.

"GUM GUM ROCKET!" With a yell, Luffy crashes into his grandpa's arm, clothes-lining himself as Bogard slams into the dirt, sent skipping across the ground like a stone on a pond, only sliding to a stop at Garp's feet. His katana lies at your feet, and you grab it quickly as he rolls painfully on to his front, the wind thumped out of him as he wheezes a cough. Garp ignores you both as he turns to Luffy's prone form.

"You don't know how dangerous the world is-DON'T YOU MOVE AGAIN!" His finger shoots out in your direction as you go to rush to your captain, and you freeze, staring down his arm to meet his smouldering eyes. "STAY." It's like being barked at by a dog, a dog that just smashed your (very strong) captain through two buildings. You listen, and he turns back to Luffy. "The Grand Line isn't some child's game." Marching to Luffy's spot, he lifts him by the lapels, dangling him in the air with a grunt. "I told you, you aren't ready."

"You can hit me all day long..." Luffy's voice is husky, "but I'm never giving up on my dream."

"Is that so?"

"I'm going to the Grand Line. And I will find the One Piece." A smile grows across his face and he laughs shakily, "And I will be King of the Pirates." His laughter grows stronger as he looks down at Garp, who just.

Drops him.

Before turning back, only to start laughing himself. You all stare at him, very confused as he chortles away, leaning on his knees. Bogard staggers to his feet and your eyes meet in a flash of glares as Garp rights himself.

"Have it your way. Lower your weapons. Bogard." He gestures his head to draw Bogard back to his side, and the man does so after lifting his coat. Spotting his katana in your hands, he scowls slightly but makes no effort to claim it back. "What are you all standing around for? Arlong's pirates are still on the loose. Hunt them down and arrest them." As the rows of cadets march away with Bogard at their tail, you pull Luffy to standing again and walk behind Garp, still eyeing him warily as the mouse captain approaches.

"What about these Straw Hats?" Garp shrugs.

"What about them?"

"Arrest them too! They are the real criminals." His sentence is barely finished before Nami knocks him out with a swift whack from her bo staff. Garp raises his eyebrows but says nothing before turning back to where Luffy is standing. You stay back a few steps, eyes not leaving the Vice Admiral.

"I knew I'd never change your mind. You're stubborn. Just like me. But I know who you are, boy. I just needed to make sure you knew it too." You sigh, rolling your head back at the stupidity of this family.

"You were testing me? Couldn't you have gone a little bit easier?" Garp shrugs with a grin.

"Where's the fun in that?" He places his hands on Luffy's shoulders with a surprising gentleness. "You're on your own now." He turns and walks away as Luffy watches him.

"No. I'm not. I have my friends." Garp's eyes flash to you, still standing behind Luffy, and then to the rest of your crew, and with a slightly baffled nod, leaves the village square.

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You and Luffy are lounging on the stoop of Nojiko's home, you were doing your job of 'distracting' the captain for the others, as you tossed segments of tangerine to each other in the citrus perfumed heat of the afternoon. You barely raise your head from your position draped across the floor boards as you hear footsteps approaching, only peering up when Luffy exclaims a happy

"Koby! Come to see us off?"

"I don't think that's a good idea." You push yourself into sitting as the pink haired boy walks up to the house, two rolls of paper grasped in his hand. You grin smugly at him.

"You aren't trying to arrest us again, are you? It won't go as well as last time." He chuckled gently at your teasing as he comes to a stop.

"I'm not here as a Marine. I'm here as your friend. I wanted to show you guys something." You stand and join your captain as Koby hands him one of the rolls, handing the other one off to you. You watch over Luffy's shoulder as he unfurls it, peering at the printed image and large clear writing. "You did it. Finally got your face on a wanted poster. Nezumi's last act of revenge." You quickly unroll your own, realising what it must be. "He also upped your bounty, Y/n. I'm sorry I couldn't stop him." You stare at the poster, the image of yourself clean and crisp.

It was taken a few days ago, probably around when you were all in Arlong Park, the rocky formation behind you similar to what the place was surrounded with. Your eyes are vividly clear, aqua irises and gold pupils swirly and bright, snarling mouth showing your sharp canines and your arm pulled back, chain hanging in the air, frozen by the image. Your bounty, once twelve million, had been more than doubled, still lower than Luffy's thirty million, now sitting at twenty-seven million and five hundred thousand Berry.

"YEAH! YES!" You don't quite match Luffy's enthusiasm, sniggering in a mix of shock and horror at the fact people now view you so dangerously. "WHo-whoa! That's a lot of Berry! Let me-" he snatches your wanted poster out of your hands studying it quickly, "you've a high bounty too! Good job!" The punch he hits your shoulder with nearly topples you over, but he grabs and rights you without missing a beat. Koby stares at you both bemused.

"They're the two highest bounties in the East Blue." Luffy's grins up at him cheesily, "You're a wanted man now." Luffy's grin shrinks to gentle smile.

"That's exactly what I wanted." Without a second thought, he tugs the pair of you into a tight hug, squeezing you both excitedly. As he pulls back, he looks back at the pair of wanted posters happily.

"I guess this is goodbye then." Koby's eyes flicker across you both as you smile at him.

"How're you thinking Koby?" He ducks his head away from your gaze for a second. It doesn't last long as he shakes himself back, standing straighter and smiling at you.

"For myself." He speaks with confidence and you're happy for him, "They're doing a good job teaching us, but I know what I want, so I'm not letting them change my mind." Luffy watches you both, eyes warm and happy.

"Good!" You beam at him and red flushes his face, smile not wavering. "I will miss seeing you about..." your smile pulls into a pout, hiding the shakiness of your lips. You were so sick of crying.

"Goodbye Koby." Luffy steps in close, leaning in to his space and says, "Be a good Marine." Koby nods easily and answers

"Be a good pirate." Nodding once more before turning back and heading down the trail.

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Luffy cackles to himself as he hops up over the gunnel, tugging you up behind him and still clutching the wanted posters. He marches into the galley happily, and you follow close behind into the well lit room.

"Guys! Check it out." As he unrolls the two posters side-by-side on the counter, you move back into Sanji's side, sneaking a chunk of carrot into your mouth before he can smack your hand away. The others get up and join you, staring down at your faces looking up at them from the pictures, bounties plastered clearly beneath.

"Hey, look! I'm famous!" You and Luffy peer at Usopp confused.

"What are you on about? That's Luffy's wanted poster." Sanji speaks from beside you, wiping down his knife as he does.

"Not just Luffy." He taps the paper, pointing out a small part of the image depicting the back of his head. You roll your eyes and smack your head into Sanji's shoulder, who chuckles at you. Usopp laughs as well, "Sorry guys, maybe if you work a little harder, you'll get a bounty too." Nami is eyeballing the Berry amounts under both your names as the argument around you strikes up.

"That doesn't count."

"It's okay to be jealous. Feel what you need to feel."

"I- mmm..." Sanji sighs out of his nose and Usopp and Nami look at each other, grinning.

"Maybe next time, you'll be in your partner's wanted poster, have you considered that?" Sanji's face flushes instantly at Usopp's words and your head pops upright as well.

"My who-?!" "His what-?!"

The others, aside from Luffy snigger away at the pair of you as Sanji awkwardly bats away questions from you, "You have a-"

"-No!"

"-what are they talking abo-"

"There's nothing to know, don't worry about it." He glares at Usopp who sniggers and raises his hands,

"Sorry, sorry, I must have misunderstood, you know, that whole dynamic." You squint at the sharpshooter as he continues to snigger, Zoro and Nami joining in as Sanji glares at them all.

"This is stupid."

"These," Zoro taps the paper with two fingers, "are gonna makes things much harder. With that amount for your heads, every bounty hunter in the East Blue will be gunning for you."

"Not just Y/n and Luffy, they'll be gunning for all of us." Nami agreed.

"Then it's a good thing we're not staying in the East Blue. We're going to the Grand Line." A smirk grows on your face as your captain smiles triumphantly, ignoring everyone else's concerned expressions.

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Back at the docks in Dye Town, Yano leans over his desk, shuffling through transfer requests and patrol reports. Kyoko pushes through the door, hands laden with documents that she dumps on the corner of his desk. As he glares at the new mass of work, the Den Den Mushi Transferer on his desk starts to rumble and print off a new set of papers.

Kyoko plucks them from the printer delicately and eyes them, mouth pulling into a grimace as she looks them over.

"New bounty posters from Nezumi in Coco Village, sir." She hands them over, already moving to the door to avoid the fall out. He snarls at Luffy's, balling it up and chucking it into the waste paper bin as hard as he can as he stands from his desk.

Moving over to the chest at his wall, he crouches in front of it, eyes never leaving your own, the fierce image of your eyes glaring back at him from the new bounty poster. He flips open the chest mindlessly, the bulk of it full of a mess of papers, stolen reports from across islands in the East Blue regarding these new Straw Hat Pirates, especially the ones focusing on the weird one with glowing eyes. His attention, however, focuses on to the papers pasted to the lid. Your older bounty poster, outdated in a matter of days, and several older newspaper clippings that he had scavenged regarding the Baratie, especially the owner and the kids of the floating restaurant. 

Gently, almost reverently, he smoothes out the new poster on to the lid with all the other images of you, and leans wistfully on the edge, staring longingly at your depiction across them. The centre of his iridescent yellow eyes, his blue-black pupil, wobbles into a heart shape.

"Don't worry Nakayoshi," he sighs dreamily, "I'll see you again soon."

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Across the ocean, Zeff walks through the kitchen holding the two wanted posters. He pins Luffy's on to the employee of the month board. As the other chefs crowd around to look, he flattens the other on the wall below a cut out news clipping depicting the opening of the restaurant. A cheer sounds from the entire staff at your face plastered on the paper, hoots and hollers sounding as Zeff pins it to the wall, making sure it's straight before stepping back.

Patty stands beside him as the other chefs cheering reduces to chuckles and calmer laughs as they return to dinner prep, and the blue-haired chef leans more into his boss.

"Not bad for a second bounty, eh?"

"No," Zeff agrees, face stern but eyes proud, "Not bad at all."

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"So what do you think?" Having departed from Coco Village, the Going Merry was now on course to the Grand Line. You and your crew stand behind Luffy, all watching as Nami looks over the trio of tangerine trees that had been brought on board and placed at the stern. "It's a little piece of home to take with you on our journey."

"And I can whip up tangerine tarts anytime you want." Nami smiles gently as she caresses the familiar fruit before she turns to look at you all.

"It's perfect." You all grin at each other. "We actually have something for you too." Luffy continues grinning at her, confused. As you all turn to overlook the main deck, she calls, "Usopp, set the main!"

"Setting the main!" He shouts back jubilantly. The large main sail drops, the white canvas unfurling to display a redone skull and crossbones, resplendent in a straw hat with a red band. Luffy's hands reach out to grab Nami and Zoro's arms, his eyes gleaming at the sight in front of him. You were all smiling at him as he stared open mouthed before running across to the fore castle to gaze up at the sail.

"WHOO-HOO! WHOA!"

He continues cheering for ages, having clambered up on to the Going Merry's figurehead, still laughing and yelling and waving his hat and arms around.

You stand with Nami as she looks over the map to the Grand Line with a magnifying glass, ready to use your power to correct course if needed.

"The entrance to the Grand Line isn't too far off, but I think there's a mistake on the map."

"What do you mean?" Luffy calls down and begins to clamber off the sheep head as you join her at the barrel, looking over her shoulder at where she focused the magnifying glass.

"Well, it looks like a river or a canal or something, but it doesn't make any sense." You grin at Luffy as he stumbles down beside you, "These elevations show a mountain. I mean, how can a river go up a mountain?" Luffy shrugs.

"You're our navigator. We have a magic compass." He elbows you and you snort and roll your eyes. "You'll figure it out." He lands a slap to her shoulder with the back of his hand as Sanji calls up.

"Hey Luffy!" You all look round as he reaches the top of the stairs, grinning at you. "Come here, I've got an idea." You all watch him as he pulls a barrel to the middle of the deck. Luffy grins back at you and Nami before yelling to the others.

"Straw Hats! All hands on deck for a cast-off ceremony!" You all join Sanji as he props his leg up on the barrel lid.

"I'm gonna find the All Blue." Your eyes flash, an image of Sanji and Zeff in the kitchen of the Orbit swirling through your mind.

"I'm gonna be King of the Pirates!" A young Luffy grins, scar fresh on his cheek and t-shirt stained with blood.

"I'm gonna be the world's greatest swordsman." Zoro stands in the forest of his youth, face assured.

"I'm gonna draw a map of the world." Nami beams, flipping to the next page of the stolen atlas of her childhood.

"I..." Usopp sits on the edge of his mother's bed, watching her still face, "am gonna become a brave warrior of the sea!"

All eyes turn to you and you slowly raise your foot, placing it on the barrel and looking into the eyes of each of your crew mates.

"I'm gonna prove that my powers, and I, have worth! I will help you all achieve your dreams, or I'll die trying!!" Luffy and Usopp snigger at your dramatic words, the others keep watching you. "I will stand by your sides as your loyal crewmate!" Nami and Zoro look away, smiles growing on their faces as they begin to laugh to, Sanji's eyes the only ones still on you. "And as your friend." His face melts in a pure and happy smile and you both join in the laughter. Luffy grins at all of you.

"This is it, crew. The Grand Line. Nothing's gonna stand in our way!! YEAHHHH!!" You all roar and cheer and laugh along with him as you set off.

In pursuit of your true treasures!

Final Author's Notes: Reader as Irish/based on Irish nationality ala Oda's suggestions for what nationality the strawhats would be. So Readers attacks were all the areas they attacked (chest, stomach, legs and head) and their finishing move "Slabhra Stór" (Treasured Chain, I couldn't think of anything more original that didn't end up being like, six words long lol) in Irish I hope you all enjoy the final chapter of Treasure Treasure! (For now at least) and thank you so much for reading! I will hopefully be back soon with some original content of Sanji and Reader when they were younger in Baratie while I plan out the anime/manga adaptation a bit more. Please feel free to check out the poll and the rest of my Tumblr! Thank you again for reading and have a great day :)

[mydearlybeloathed]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: ezra just can't figure out why you hate him so much.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: ghost crew x f!reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.7k

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: requested, mentioned enslavement, reader is kinda mean, no use of Y/N

Now, Ezra wasn’t one to jump to conclusions, but what other conclusion was there? 

You had to hate his guts. You refused to look at him and you wouldn’t talk to him, not to mention the glare you weren’t at all trying to hide. Sabine told him to not worry about it, that you would open up on your own time. Somehow, Ezra doubted that.

Hera told him something similar about giving you time, and he understood why; it’d only been a week since your grand and harrowing rescue from the clutches of the Hutts (the crew had yet to tell him why you needed rescuing in the first place).

A few months into joining the crew, it became clear that someone was missing. Sabine’s room held the belongings of another, another person’s blanket and pillow situated on the bottom bunk. An utterance of a stranger’s name was sometimes whispered, accompanied by shadowed looks and a tense silence.

When he got up the nerve to ask, Hera had pursed her lips and crossed her arms. “There’s a reason you’re Spectre 7, not 6. Six is… somewhere.”

“How do we find them?”

Hera hadn’t given an answer, simply letting out a sigh and turning to go back to her tasks.

So the mystery of Spectre 6 lived on, remnants of this girl coming to him in pieces. Little jokes here and there about how Six would yell about this or how she would laugh at that. Ezra started to piece together an image of this girl in his head, imagining a smiling figure with fuzzy features, doing flips and handstands across his mind.

“If only Six was here,” Zeb commented into his comlink as he and Ezra balanced across a skinny support beam. “Little acrobat would come in handy.”

Kanan and Sabine stayed up at odd hours of the night when they weren’t aware Ezra was watching from around the corner, mumbling to themselves as they scoured databases for clues as to where the lost Spectre had gone.

“Bingo,” Sabine grinned, frantically tapping Kanan’s arm. “The mercenaries that took her are from Corellia.”

Kanan set a hand on her shoulder. Hope flashed in his eyes. “Good work. We’ll get her back soon.”

Whoever she was, she sure meant a lot to the crew. So much so that he started to grow bitter at whatever had taken her away—Ezra started to want her back just as much as the rest of them.

And so naturally, when Vizago crawled out whatever hole he dwelled in to drop off a message from the Hutts, Ezra was a rapt listener—it went something along the lines of, “Take back your sewer rat… for five thousand Imperial credits.”

“We don’t have that money,” said Sabine, her voice a new dangerous low. Her eyes lasered in on the table before her as a sense of fury rose within the common.

Zeb scoffed, his fists curling. “Why weren’t the Hutts out first guess? Of course they wanted her back.”

“Why?” Ezra asked without thinking. 

While Zeb’s eyes flashed darkly, Kana answered offhandedly, “Back before we found her, she worked for them—the Hutts—she was their prize weapon.”

“We got her out,” Hera said softly. “But a few weeks before you got here… she went out on a solo mission.” She hugged herself. “I shouldn’t have let her go.”

“She would’ve gone whether you let her or not,” Sabine quipped. “That’s how she is.”

Ezra stepped forward and set his hands on the table everyone gathered around, his eyes raising to assess his friends. “Let’s stop talking about it and make a plan. She can’t be safe there.”

The rescue mission itself was near flawless; Kanan and Hera went forward with a crate “full of credits.” Plot twist: there were no credits. Coming in behind them, Sabine and Chopper infiltrated the lower kitchens of the Hutts’ headquarters, taking out a few droids and taking one prisoner. With a few gentle threats, Sabine sent word to Zeb and Ezra exactly where Spectre 6 was being held. 

That was where the plan went awry; while Zeb was held back by a wary yet naive droid, Ezra slipped past unnoticed, casting Zeb a wave as he dove around a corner and headed deeper into the fortress. 

Finding the cell wasn’t much of a problem, nor was getting the door open—the problem at hand was getting you out of the cell.

You were curled into a shadowed corner like some kind of alley cat, eyes lifting to gaze upon him with nothing but contempt. From the moment he saw you, he had the sense you disliked his very being.

Somehow—he still wonders how—he managed to convince you he was with the Ghost crew, luring you out of the cell and leading you to where the others had started up a racket after getting caught with no payment. The final escape was slim, and your hair was singed from a too-close blaster fire.

Ezra noticed, eyes wide as he moved to swat at the slowly rising smoke. “Are you okay?”

You swatted him away, glare ready and waiting. “Fine.” And you disappeared, rushing deep into the ship with a frazzled Hera on your tail.

His every attempt at communication after was met with backlash. You really did seem like a cat in his mind, all hissy and skittish. 

“Be patient,” is what everyone told him, but really, it was getting out of hand. After three months of your return, you had yet to drop your hatred, and it was starting to interfere in missions. 

Just last week he’d been about to make a shot that would have saved time concerning a quick escape when you completely ignored his presence and tripped him. 

“Sorry,” you’d said, not sounding very sorry at all.

That wasn’t the end of it either.

“Do you need something?”

“Go be useful, if you can.”

“Could you be more amazingly purposeless here?”

Ezra had to give it to you, you certainly had a knack for tearing down a guy’s self-esteem. Each insult seemed to roll off your tongue so easily that Ezra came to correlate your voice with a bad day.

You could not possibly have made Ezra feel more unwelcome, despite everyone’s assurances that you’d warm up eventually. Ezra started to question the crew’s definition of eventually. He really hoped you would start to like him soon, because you were quite possibly one fo the coolest people he’d ever seen.

When you weren’t actively making his life difficult, you were training day in and day out, practicing acrobatics atop the Ghost. Not to mention, if he and Kanan didn’t have some sixth sense thanks to the Force, your movements would be deadly silent. You moved like a specter, like your feet never even touched the ground. 

Today was like most days in accordance with you; you ignored his existence save for the occasional backlash whenever he stepped into your vicinity, and Ezra was left to wonder after the dark and nearly forlorn look constantly trapped in your eyes (he always tried to despise you, like he could easily despise Zeb at times, but there was something in how lost you looked that stopped him).

Though, today was different. Every once in a while you took to the habit of taking his beloved helmet for reasons only the stars could know. On these days he could scour the Ghost to find you lazing about like a cat, donning his helmet as you stared at the expanse of sky from the gunner. 

So he immediately set out for the gunner of the ship, already preparing his quippy remark, only to falter when you were nowhere in sight. Ezra squinted at the vacant seat, zeroing in on the dual beskar knives safely in their sheathes. Beskar, he awed for the umpteenth time. He’d asked after them too many times to count, only receiving one answer from Sabine: “We used to have similar lines of work. She was very skilled at hers. That came with perks.”

And the mystery of you expanded, as it always did.

“Hey.” Ezra looked into the dimness of your and Sabine’s room, finding the latter at her desk fiddling with her recently damaged blaster. “You seen Six?”

“Why?” She sighed as her blaster sparked up again. “You gonna start problems?”

“Okay, one, I never start anything with her. Two, I just want my helmet back.”

Sabine threw her blaster down, frustrated. “Haven’t seen her today. You checked the gunner?”

“Three times, just in case she was hiding.” That got a laugh from Sabine, who shifted to stand and stretch. 

“Then I dunno how to help you, kid. She’s gotta be somewhere.”

That would have been fine advice, if for the rest of the day Ezra didn’t continue searching the recesses of the ship, his intent slowly shifting from demanding back his helmet to just making sure you’re still alive. 

Ezra burst into the common room around the time the whole crew was gathering to grab something to eat at the end of the day, his hands planted on either side of the door as he said with a sudden urgency. “Has anyone seen Six?”

Sabine had the nerve to roll her eyes. “Again with the helmet? She’ll give it back—”

“Has anyone seen her?” Ezra cut in to demand once more, scanning his eyes across the room. “Think.”

Only a moment passed before the others started to furrow their brows and shift around. Hera glanced up at Ezra. “Not since this morning.”

A murmur of agreement ran through the crew. No one had seen her all day, neither had they heard her voice from across the ship, shouting about something or other that someone had done wrong.

Thus, the manhunt began, but even when everyone was shouting your name throughout the ship, there was no response. Lothal’s moons had already risen about halfway into the sky. Creatures started to come out at this hour, varying from the wild things to troopers. 

You were out on the Lothal plains after dark, without your knives, and Ezra suddenly forgot every wrong you’d done against him. You were a pain in his ass, but if you were gone, he wasn’t sure what he’d do. 

Setting out was the easy part, Hera and Chopper staying behind to watch the Ghost whilst the others rushed into the night, armed with their weapon of choice. Ezra took one of the stolen speeders stowed away in the hold, swinging a leg over and taking off across the plains as Sabine took the second speeder in the other direction. 

Ezra tried to ignore the wind hitting his face and focused solely on the hum of the speeder, the sway of the tall grasses, and the sudden and faint flutter of a heartbeat somewhere in the distance. Over the course of his training with Kanan, Ezra took to secretly memorizing the sound of your spirit, not wanting to be on the receiving end of your notorious sneak attacks. 

Practically shutting off everything other sense, he leaned to the right, following the ringing of your heart and soul deeper into the plains. The grasses grew taller here, unhindered by farming, and rocks stretched high into the sky, forming a sort of labyrinth between them. He weaved the speeder in and out of several stone mountains, sensing the ring growing closer. 

The ground elevated into a slope as the rocks fell away to reveal dusty ground, and Ezra took a left at the very last large mountain. It opened up to a bluff overlooking the East. Ezra slowed the speeder to a light rev, the ringing now a strong buzz, and your heart a steady beat in his head. 

You were here, that was for sure. 

Cutting the ignition, Ezra stepped off the speeder and sauntered forward, eyes scanning the area. Just when the buzz and ring of the force grew too much, Ezra caught a movement ahead of him, and the sounds all fell away. A figure was sprawled out on the grass, shifting every few seconds like they couldn’t get comfortable.

Then the figure sighed, and Ezra confirmed it was you (he’d heard that agitated sound enough times to know it as yours). 

Ezra should have learned by now to proceed with extreme caution, but he had always been a stubborn learner, so he trudged through the grass uncaring of the crunching underfoot. You lurched upward like a frightened animal, eyes locked on him in her instant. Ezra instantly drew a mental image of a loth cat, hackles risen and fangs bared. The likeness was uncanny.

“What’re you doing here?” You sat back slowly, examining him carefully.

He nearly scoffed. “I was about to ask you the same thing.”

Blinking blankly, you turned and plopped down on the grass, facing the plains. He stood for an awkward few moments before you snapped, “I’m fine. You can go.”

“Yeah, right.” He plopped down in the dirt beside you, a generous berth between you. “You scared the kark out of everyone.”

Your answer was instantaneous. “Why?”

Ezra paused, thought some, looked at you, and spat the awkward words out. “We care about you.”

You waited for the blow, the butt of the joke, but it never came, and you were left awkwardly staring at his profile. “Oh.”

“Is that a surprise?” he wondered.

“No,” you shook your head. “Not for the others…”

Ezra rolled his eyes and leaned back on his hands, unable to take it any longer. “Can I ask you something? Why do you hate me so much?”

You blinked as if the question shocked you, and wasn’t at all valid. “What? I don’t hate you.”

“Coulda fooled me,” he scoffed. You huffed and turned away, crossing your arms over your knees. 

“Well, I don’t. You’re just…”

“Just what?”

Pursing your lips, your eyes darted back to meet his, brows furrowed. “Annoying.”

Ezra met your gaze back with a mirrored intensity. “And you’re rude.”

“I wouldn’t be if you’d leave me alone.”

“We’re on this crew together!” he snapped. “I physically cannot ignore you. So, if you could get over whatever grudge you have against me, that’d be great!”

“Don’t—” You got a grip on your emotions, averting your attention to the sky. In a softer tone, you warned, “Don’t yell at me.”

Taken aback, Ezra gave you an odd look, shifting to catch your eye. You just shifted further away from him, grunting something under your breath. You’d always been so haunted and withdrawn. No one would ever tell him why.

It couldn’t hurt to ask.

“Are you…” He hesitated, waiting till you cast him a glance. “Are you okay? Why were you with the Hutts? And what does it have to do with bounty hunters? Why—”

You sneered as your hand clamped down on his mouth, nearly knocking him backward. Holding his eyes in a glare, you huffed. “Just shut up, okay? You ask too many questions.” You plopped back down and retracted your hand. “Annoying, like I said.”

“I want to help you.”

“Did I ask?”

The silence was thick, broken only by the chirping of bugs in the tall stalks all around. You ran a hand over your face, almost trying to hide, before sighing and glaring at the sky. “Whatever… I used to be something of a bounty hunter. A weapon, more like.”

Ezra felt like that should have been obvious, and did his best to hold back his questions as you shifted uncomfortably. “Some bad people with the Guild found me as a kid, when I was just some nobody doing acrobat tricks for money. They thought I had potential, so they just… took me. Didn’t really matter. It was better than the streets, I guess.”

Tugging at your hair, you gave a little shrug. “They taught me a lot about killing and stealing and what-not. Long story short, I was sold to the Hutts like this shiny new assassin toy.” You pumped a fist. “Yay.”

He felt a little bad for grinning, sniffing as he nodded. “Then what? You got here somehow.”

“I’m getting there,” you gritted. You tried to look pissed, but couldn’t hold back a slight grin. “Sabine found me, like, a year before they found you. She was on a mission, and I tried to pick-pocket her. She chased me a mile around the city before she caught me.  A shorter story short, the crew helped me escape the Hutts, and the rest is history.”

One thing still didn’t add up. “How’d the Hutts get you back?”

“Oh, uhm… they caught me.” There is was again; haunted, a shadow crossing your eyes as memories played up in your head. “I, uh, didn’t think the crew would come after me, to be honest. I kinda resigned myself to a life trapped on Tatooine.” 

You caught his eye. “Then you showed up and broke me out.”

“Was that such a surprise?”

“Maybe. I mean,” you murmured whilst playing with the grass. “It didn’t take too long for them to replace me, did it?”

And suddenly, it all fell perfectly into place. All the hatred and coldness, the malice and contempt… you thought they’d replaced you. Really? Ezra coudln’t stop the laugh bubbling out of his chest, not even when you shot him a deathly glower.

“What’s so funny?”

“You just—What?” Ezra shifted ot his knees, beaming down at you as he shook his head. “They never replaced you. All I ever heard when I joined was about this mysterious crewmate they’d lost.” He flicked your forehead. “If they replaced you, then why’re you still Spectre 6 and I’m Spectre 7?”

You started to snap back only to stop short, gaping like a fish as you grasped for some kind of defense. You couldn’t find one, apparently, and promptly snapped your mouth shut. 

“I never thought of that,” you muttered at last.

No duh. Ezra barely held back a roll of his eyes. “Think about it then.”

You did (he could tell form your thoughtful sneer) and you slowly raised your gaze to look at him again. The haunting was still there, but your eyes were softer than they’d ever been when laid upon him. “I’m… sorry.” The way your face scrunched up amde it seem like ti was painful to say, your monotone going on, “The way I’ve treated you hasn’t been fair.”

“Thanks,” he said with a gentle nod, and an awkwardness settled around the pair of you. “So… wanna head back?”

Instantly you shook you head, returning your attention to the sky. “Not yet. Wanna watch the stars.”

He noticed your lack of jacket just as he shivered. “You’ve gotta be cold.”

“Eh,” you shrugged. “I’m fine. You can head back if you want.”

Ezra didn’t move an inch. All he could think wa sthat maybe, he was finally going to get to know the Six the crew knew. The one who laughed freely and pulled tricks. The one that played hide and seek with Kanan and was always so frustrated when he cheated and used to force to find you. 

So he stayed right where he was, lazing back on the grass to have a better view of the sky. “Nah. I’ll stay.”

You cast him a short glance as you laid back as well. “Okay…”

Only an hour later, when you’d fallen asleep and punched Ezra when he tried to wake you (“I’m sorry!” “Yeah, yeah.”), did you and Ezra head back to the Ghost. You kept falling asleep on him, forcing him to use one hand to steer the speeder and the other to keep you hands around his middle. 

Relief coursed through him when he caught sight of the ship, warm light flowing from the open hatch, a few silhouetted figures pacing back and forth. He pulled the speeder to a stop and leg you go, sighing even as you slid off and hit the ground with a thud.

Probably not the best choice, especially not when Hera bolted from where she sat and rushed to your side. “What happened? It she all right?” She glared up from the ground. “Ezra!” 

He raised his hands in surrender, trying to defend himself, when you groaned and blinked blearily around. “Why am I on the ground…?”

Hera gripped your shoulder and held your face in her palm, startling you. “Are you okay?”

You nodded hesitantly and tried not to seem too content with the soft touches. “Yeah? I was just asleep.”

Harsh footsteps echoed form the ship and out stomped Zeb moments later, rough around the edges per usual. “Where’ve you been!?”

“Uhm, out?” you replied, brows vaulted as Sabine rushed out beyond him. The whole crew stood around, all looking a mix of relieved and pissed. “I was just up on the bluffs…”

Hera let out a sigh and allowed you to sit up on your own. “And that’s fine, but you should tell someone before you disappear all afternoon.”

“I didn’t think it mattered that much.” You shifted around and stood to your feet, crossing your arms over your chest. 

No one really said anything, only exchanged odd glances, until Hera blinked quickly and set a hand on your shoulder. “You look cold. Come on.”

She made to guide you inside when you suddenly stopped, turned to Ezra, and grinned tightly. “You’re… not so bad.”

And with that, Hera dragged you into the warmth fo the Ghost, leaving behind you a fairly confused crew. All eyes fell to Ezra as he smirked and gave a simple shrug. Sabine offered up a smile of her own before she snapped and pointed at the boy. “Oh, you were looking for your helmet right?”

He’d completely forgotten. “Oh, yeah.”

She passed a hand over his hair, ruffling it up. “It’s under your desk, idiot.”

Ezra huffed, hiding the flush in his cheeks as he muttered under his breath, following after Zeb and Sabine as they headed inside the ship. The hatch rose up behind them and hissed shut just as Kanan came up beside Ezra, one brow raised. 

“So you two are friends now?”

He rolled his eyes at that. “I think so? She’s very cryptic. But, I don’t think she hates me.”

Kanan laughed. “That’s a start, I suppose.”

Ezra had to agree. 

And as time would pass, and your walls slowly tore down to reveal a human so bright and radiant, both you and Ezra nearly forgot all about the days you’d come close to murdering him. 

[siderealscribblings]

Early access Games of Divinity Time: Timetheft Edition

The Chasm - Liyue

There were easier ways to break stone, but Zhongli found the rhythmic swing of a pick strangely therapeutic. The tinny tink-tink-tink of metal on rock mingled with the chatter from the other miners around him, all dressed in sweat-stained shirts and heavy work-boots the same as he was. Despite hauling and shattering entire mountains worth of rock, no one raised a complaint, even as the blistering sun began beating down on them. They were a good crew, even if they were unnerved by the soft-spoken young man that could splinter rocks the size of houses with a few well-placed strokes of his ax. 

Perhaps they smell the blood on me, Zhongli thought, taking a swig from the wineskin on his hip and wiping his brow. War gods without wars were irrelevant, and while the Qixing still relied on his wisdom (such as it was) Zhongli found himself with too much time on his hands. Time that would be spent brooding if he didn’t put his hands to work doing something useful. It would be a while before he needed to fake his death and vanish for a few decades so those in Liyue Harbor didn’t grow suspicious and if he was going to live as a man, he was going to work as one as well. 

“Hey, Z!” Zhongli craned his head up to see one of the other workers leaning over the edge of his pit some ten meters above him. “Chow-wagon is here; grab the Mora Meat before Lingyun runs off with the whole stack!” 

“Screw off!” Came Lingyun’s reply from somewhere above him. 

“Thank you; I’ll be up momentarily,” Zhongli sighed, waving his co-worker off. The sun was high in the sky; Cloud Retainer would no doubt be snacking on the finest food the Fontish could serve up while Zhongli was picking pebbles out of Mora Meat. It had been many years since he had been at another Archon’s banquet, but given that a rather prickly dragon shadowed the Hydro Archon, Zhongli thought better of attending in disguise. 

Has the morning gotten away from me already? Zhongli thought, leaning against the wall of his hole and closing his eyes for a moment of peace. He tugged one of his gloves off, pressing a bare, scaled palm against the stone and sending a pulse of Geo energy throughout the earth  beneath him. They were approaching a cave system with a rich vein of Cor Lapis; beneath that was remnants of the meteorite that had fallen ages ago. No good will come of that, Zhongli thought. Best to guide them away from the tunnels so they can-

Zhongli’s musing was interrupted by something brushing against his nose. He opened his eyes to see a large black and red butterfly flapping lazily on the tip of his nose, tiny feelers brushing against his forehead as he carefully pried it off his face. The smell of smoky, burning cherrywood hung in the air as it beat its wings, fluttering off Zhongli’s finger and landing on the handle of his pickaxe. 

“Tell me you’re not here for any of my co-workers,” Zhongli said, watching as the butterfly exploded in a snap of flames, leaving a young woman with flowing brown hair in its place. 

“Nah, I decided to come out and see how the God of Geo fares as a miner,” the adeptus said, brushing some ash off her coat. “But, you may want to let that guy stuffing eight Mora Meat in his mouth know that his life’s thread got a little bit shorter after the last one. I’m not a doctor—quite the opposite really—but he’s only like twenty five and dying that young from a heart-attack seems like a waste to me.” 

“Shall I tell him the Unbound Flame revealed herself to me and told me his days were numbered?” Zhongli chuckled, glancing up to make sure no one was listening in. The young woman was known to many as the 57th Director of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor (a title she conveniently inherited from a mortal relative when it suited her) but how she had appeared out of thin air was not a conversation Zhongli wanted to entertain. 

“Tell him to eat a vegetable every once and a while or he’s going to be fitted for a pine box before he’s forty,” the Unbound Flame sighed. “How’s the side-gig treating you?” 

“Alright…I enjoy doing physical labor more than I thought I would,” Zhongli shrugged. “I’ve had enough of splitting skulls so I thought I’d give splitting stone a try.” 

“Shame; you’re good at splitting skulls,” the Unbound Flame said, hopping off the pick-ax. “Your skills might be needed sooner rather than later, in fact.” 

“I should hope not,” Zhongli said. “...is there something I should know?” 

“Besides the fact that you need a bath?” The Unbound Flame chuckled, rubbing the back of her neck. “...that Miko lady was in town the other day.” 

“Ei’s girl?” Zhongli asked. “I imagine she’s heading up for Lady Furina’s birthday.” 

“She was…but she wanted to talk to someone in charge and since Cloudy and Xiao are in Fontaine and you’re playing in the mud, she had to talk to me,” the Unbound Flame sighed. “Barbados wants to talk.” 

“Yae Miko sent you to tell me that Barbados wants to talk?” Zhongli sniffed. “Why isn’t Barbados here to talk to me himself?” 

“He’s in Fontaine at the moment,” the Unbound Flame said. “And he wants you to join him.” 

“Of all the-” Zhongli shook his head. “That absurd little god needs to stay away from Fontaine; the last time I was there, I was run off by Focalors’ attack dragon.” 

“Like you couldn’t have dusted him if you wanted,” the Unbound Flame huffed, lightly jabbing Zhongli in the shoulder. “You might want to hear what he has to say first.” 

Zhongli’s brow furrowed as his companion fished a letter from her coat pocket and pressed it into Zhongli’s hands. Only one sentence was on the page, but Zhongli read it three times, his scowl deepening with each pass. 

“...how does he know?” Zhongli asked quietly. 

“I guess bards hear a lot of rumors,” the Unbound Flame said, her usual cheer muted as she watched him inspect the letter further. “Miko seems to think it’s legit.” 

“Does Neuvillette know about this?” Zhongli asked, rubbing his eyes as he tossed the paper aside. 

“If he did, the whole country would be up in arms,” the Unbound Flame said, folding her arms across her chest. “You know Barbados doesn’t pull his head out of a wine barrel unless things are serious.” 

“And Xiao and Cloud Retainer are in the middle of all this…nonsense,” Zhongli growled. “...there is a chance I may make this worse. Neuvillette will distrust me if I tell him the sky is blue by virtue of the fact that I’m an usurper.” 

“Well if he doesn’t trust at least one of us, he could have another dead Hydro Archon on his hands,” the Unbound Flame said. “And that’s not even the worst part; someone needs to go up there and swing his metaphorical spear around and since the Shogun isn’t up to the task-” 

“I suppose it falls to me,” Zhongli sighed, rubbing his eyes. “...we could start another war.” 

“Or prevent one,” the Unbound Flame reasoned. “Either way, should be a good time; I hear Fontish food is pretty good if you don’t mind snails and stinky cheese.” 

“Something tells me we’re not making it to the Archon’s dinner table this time,” Zhongli said. “You’ll come with me.” 

“Think you’ll need an undertaker?” 

“If we need to bury a goddess, I can think of no finer mortician than someone from the ‘Hu’ family,” Zhongli said, kicking a shovel at her and watching her catch it. The withered wooden handle crackled as flames danced across the woman’s fingertips, turning red as fire consumed it. In the hands of the Unbound Flame, any piece of wood could become her Staff and as the fire died down, the shovel was replaced by a long wooden stick capped with a pair of ornate wings and a crimson jewel. 

“I thought you were done being a war god,” the Unbound Flame teased, jabbing him in the side as Zhongli pulled his coat back on. 

“After this, I am done,” Zhongli said for what must have been the hundredth time as he turned to climb the rickety ladder out of the pit as the Unbound Flame rode her staff out to the surface. “Let me bathe and we’ll be off.” 

A distant boom followed by the sound of panicked screaming came from the far side of the chasm, a cloud of dust erupting from a nearby mine as men rushed out covered in dirt. 

“Take your time…I have some work to wrap up here,” the Unbound Flame sighed. “Tell your boss that she lost three…no, four men. I’ll see them off before we go.” 

Staff draped across her shoulders, she sauntered off, humming a cheerful funeral dirge to herself as she went to collect the souls of the fallen miners.

[thebunnednun]

Shadows in the Night! Trafalgar D. Water Law x Ethereal spirit! Reader (Part 3)

P.S. I do not own any of the images or art!!

Song: Starset

Synopsis: While exploring the enigmatic ruins of a lost civilization, Law and his crew inadvertently awaken a hauntingly beautiful spirit. Invisible to everyone but Law, she delights in tormenting him, whispering tantalizingly close and stirring an unsettling desire within him.

Their relationship, fraught with tension and conflict, evolves from enemies to reluctant allies as the spirit reveals a dark truth: they are bound together for all eternity unless he helps her reclaim her physical body hidden within the ruins. Amidst ancient riddles and hidden dangers, the lines between hate and desire blur, creating an intoxicating mix of sexual and romantic tension.

In this gripping tale of supernatural intrigue and forbidden desire, Law’s resolve and sanity are tested. Can he break the curse, or will they remain forever entwined in the shadows of the forgotten ruins, bound by a fate that draws them inexorably closer?

On with the show!!~

-------------------------Chapter 3: Done Deal-----------------------------

"Law,"

"Law?"

"Law dear," the voice whispered softly, a melodious tune that seemed to resonate through the fog of sleep.

"Mhm," Law murmured, his mind slowly drifting toward consciousness.

"You have to wake up now," the voice coaxed gently, and he felt something soft brush against his cheek, sending cold tingles cascading through his body.

Law slowly opened his amber eyes, blinking against the morning light streaming through the open curtains. A gentle weight pressed down on his chest, and as his vision cleared, a giggle reached his ears.

"Hey there, sleepyhead!" a feminine voice laughed softly, the sound warm and full of affection.

Law groaned, the remnants of sleep clinging to him. He felt the pressure of the weight on his chest and stomach and looked down to see a small, delicate form.

"Ah!"

"I know, my love," the voice soothed, "Daddy is waking up now."

'Daddy?'

The word jolted through his mind, and Law's eyes shot open as he tried to sit up.

"Whoa, there!" The same cold hand pressed down firmly on his chest, preventing him from rising too quickly. "Don't send our baby flying now!"

The woman’s warm laughter settled over his skin like a comforting blanket. Now fully alert, he could see a young infant nestled on his chest, lying over his heart. The baby’s tiny fingers clutched at his shirt, and a soft coo escaped its lips.

"Ah!"

Law found himself in a large master bed, the sheets tangled and unmade from a restless night. He looked up, following the voice to its source. A woman stood beside the bed, her figure bathed in the soft, golden morning light.

She was breathtaking. Her beauty was striking, her features perfectly balanced with a unique charm. She wore deep blue jeans that hugged her curves, and a white lab coat hung over her shoulders, partially covering a punk rock tee-shirt that hinted at a rebellious spirit.

Her red lips were vibrant, catching his eye and drawing him in despite the way the light obscured the details of her face. It was the kind of red that demanded attention, vibrant and full of life.

Her eyes, however, were clear and mesmerizing, the only detail he could truly focus on through the glare. They were deep and expressive, a captivating blend of strength and tenderness. Her voice, warm and inviting, seemed to wrap around him, anchoring him in this surreal moment.

"It's nice to see you in the land of the living, my heart," she murmured, her fingers rubbing his chest where his heart pounded rapidly. She traced gentle patterns on his hip and tummy, the intimate gesture sending shivers through him.

"Come on, I'll take over now." She reached for the baby, her movements graceful and tender.

Instead, the infant curled up closer to Law's neck, nuzzling against his skin. As he looked down, he noticed a glint of metal and saw a diamond wedding band on the woman's ring finger while his own left hand sported a golden one.

"Awe, someone~ isn't ready to get up yet."

She leaned in, her lips brushing against his cheek in a soft kiss. The touch sending hot flashes of electricity through his body despite their freezing temperature. "Give Daddy some love to help him wake up," she encouraged the baby, her voice a soft coo.

The baby responded with a happy gurgle, tiny hands reaching up to touch Law's face. The warmth of the moment seeped into Law’s chest, spreading through him like a balm. The sensation was almost overwhelming, a strange blend of peace and joy that left him momentarily breathless.

"Thank you," he managed to whisper, his voice thick with emotion.

She smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners in a way that made his heart ache with an unfamiliar happiness.

"Always, Law."

As the woman settled to lean into his warm body and press a kiss to the baby, Law couldn’t help but marvel at the surreal beauty of the scene. It felt both impossibly real and dreamlike, a precious moment suspended in time. The warmth in his chest grew, wrapping around his heart as he watched her.

"Law!"

'No.'

"Hey Law!"

'No!'

"Wake up!"

A different voice called out, piercing through the tranquility of the moment.

Law's eyes shot open, the dream dissolving into the stark reality of the Thousand Sunny's infirmary. He was lying on a cot, with Luffy and Chopper anxiously waiting by his side.

"You're awake!" Chopper exclaimed with relief.

Law blinked, trying to piece together what had happened. "What... what happened?" he asked, his voice groggy.

Brook's voice floated into the room, cheerful yet concerned. "You passed out during the emergency, Law."

Law tried to sit up, but before he could move, Luffy threw himself on top of him, pinning him down. "Stay put, Law! You need to rest!"

Chopper nodded vigorously, his tiny hoof resting on Law's arm. "You really need to take it easy. You passed out from lack of sleep and stress. I asked Sanji to make you some soup."

Law turned his head to look at Chopper, acknowledging his words. "What happened to the sub?" he asked, his voice still weak.

Zoro, leaning against the doorframe, answered calmly. "Robin and Franky took care of it. It's in good hands."

Just then, a knock sounded at the door, and Bepo entered, his face lighting up with happiness when he saw Law awake. "Captain! I'm so glad you're okay!"

Law managed a weak smile. "What's the situation, Bepo?"

Bepo's expression grew serious. "We're trying to figure out what's wrong with the ships. It seems like a frost is hitting the ruins, and the water around us is becoming frozen. We're building a shelter on land in case the worst happens."

Law attempted to sit up again, but Chopper quickly intervened. "Please, Law, trust us. You need to rest."

Bepo nodded, his eyes filled with concern. "We'll take care of everything, Captain! You don't need to worry about us."

Zoro spoke up, his tone practical. "We've called Perona, but the snails aren't working due to the cold. We're waiting for her to respond."

Brook added, his voice a touch more somber. "I'll go look around the vessels for the spirit again." With that, almost everyone left the infirmary, leaving Chopper and Luffy with Law.

Moments later, Robin's voice called for Chopper and Luffy from outside. "We need you out here!"

Chopper turned to Law, his eyes serious. "Get some rest. We'll handle things."

Luffy gave Law a reassuring smile. "Yeah, we'll be back soon."

As they left, Law was alone, the room quiet except for the gentle hum of the ship. The ambient noise of the vessel's systems was a comforting constant, a stability and reminder of his surroundings. He touched his cheek where the woman had kissed him in the dream, the sensation so vivid that he could almost feel the warmth of her lips lingering on his skin. It was a soft, fleeting touch, but it had stirred something deep within him.

The dream had been so real. Her face was a blur, yet her presence felt familiar, like a memory just out of reach. Law’s mind replayed the moments over and over, trying to grasp the significance of the encounter. The emotions evoked were complex, a mix of yearning and bewilderment that left him unsettled. He had always prided himself on his rationality and control, yet this dream had pierced through his defenses, leaving him vulnerable to feelings he couldn't fully understand.

He sighed and sank into covers, the cot creaking softly under his weight. His eyes drifted to the small view port, where the vast expanse of space stretched out endlessly. The fog outside had covered everything in a thick grey blanket. The sense of isolation was profound, and in that moment, he felt the vastness of his own solitude.

Why had the dream affected him so deeply? Was it a message from his subconscious, a reflection of a hidden desire or fear? Or was it something more, something beyond the realm of his understanding? The questions swirled in his mind, refusing to settle.

Law closed his eyes, trying to calm the storm inside. He focused on the rhythmic hum of the ship, allowing its steady vibration to ground him. Yet, even as he sought tranquility, the phantom touch of the woman's kiss remained.

He sighed, the weight of his exhaustion pulling him back towards sleep. As he closed his eyes, the peace of the infirmary and the lingering warmth from the dream began to lull him. Just as he was about to drift off, a familiar voice cut through the quiet.

"Hey, sleepyhead!~"

Law's eyes snapped open, the voice sending a jolt through his system. He sat up too quickly, a wave of nausea crashing over him as the room spun.

"Easy there!" the voice teased, followed by a soft giggle.

Law's vision cleared, and he recognized the woman from his dream. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, a playful smile on her lips. The spirit's vibrant red lips and voice were unmistakable, even in the dim light of the infirmary.

"Ya know," you began, your tone light and teasing, "I was getting bored waiting for you to wake up. And who knew that waving hi to you would make you so weak in the knees for me?"

Law's reaction was immediate and instinctive. He grabbed the nearest pillow and hurled it at you, his voice rising in a mix of anger and confusion.

"What the hell are you doing here?!"

You easily dodged the pillow, giggles only intensifying. "Oh, come on now, is that any way to treat a lady?"

He threw another pillow, then reached for anything else within arm's reach – a book, a blanket, even a small medical instrument. "Get out of here! Leave me alone!"

You dodged each object with effortless grace, your laughter ringing out like a bell. "I was being nice by letting you have that sweet dream, you know. I could have bitten your face off, but I didn’t."

His eyes widened before narrowing as a hot brush crept up his neck. "You're not real!" Law yelled, his frustration mounting. "You can't be real!"

The spirit stopped dodging and stood at the foot of the bed, her expression shifting to one of mock seriousness. "Oh, but I am, my dear. You can deny it all you want, wish me away. But, I'm always here, watching over you."

She ran her fingers along the bottom of his covers and skipped over his feet before he pulled them in.

'What. The Fuck. Is. Your. Deal?!"

Law’s breath came in ragged gasps as he stared at her, his mind racing to understand what was happening. "What do you want from me?" he demanded.

The spirit floated closer, her presence both comforting and unnerving. "You can’t escape your past, Law. It’s a part of you, just as I am."

Law clenched his fists, his frustration giving way to a deep sense of helplessness. "I don’t need you. I don’t need anyone."

She reached out, her hand stopping just short of his cheek. Law shivered in anticipation, feeling the ghostly sensation of her touch lingering just out of reach. Her sharp nails glinted in the dim light, a reminder of her ethereal nature and the danger she posed.

"Everyone needs someone, Doctor. Even you," she whispered, her voice a soft caress.

Law's breath hitched, his heart pounding in his chest as he stared into her mesmerizing eyes. The tension between them was palpable, a mix of fear and longing that left him feeling vulnerable and exposed.

Just as she was about to touch him, the door to the infirmary burst open, and Luffy and Chopper rushed back in. 

"Law! Are you okay?" Chopper exclaimed, his eyes wide with concern.

Luffy’s gaze darted around the room, his fists clenching. "What’s going on in here?"

Law blinked, the spirit suddenly gone as if she had never been there. He looked around, confusion and exhaustion warring within him. "I... I don’t know," he muttered, his voice hoarse.

Chopper hurried to his side, his medical instincts kicking in. "You need to lie down. You're still not fully recovered."

Luffy sat on the edge of the bed, his eyes filled with worry. "We’re here for you, Law. Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out together."

Law nodded slowly, the events of the past few minutes blurring in his mind. As he lay back down, he couldn’t shake the lingering feeling of the spirit’s presence, her words echoing in his mind.

"Your choice, Law," her voice whispered in the recesses of his thoughts. "You're running out of time." She waved to him once more before walking past the straw hats and vanishing into the air.

As Law prepared to point out the presence of the spirit to the other crew members, he suddenly realized that they really couldn't see her at all. His heart sank as he understood the truth – he was the only one who could see her. With a heavy sigh, he quickly improvised an excuse, "I want to rest in my office."

Luffy and Zoro immediately offered to help him, their concern evident in their expressions. With their assistance, Law made his way to his study, which Bepo had thankfully cleaned up. As they settled him into his chair, Chopper placed a bowl of Sanji's soup on his desk, giving him strict orders to rest.

"Aye, sir," Law responded weakly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Once they had left, promising to return soon, Law found himself 'alone' once more. He watched as the lights overhead flickered, a sign of her presence.

"I know you're there," he muttered, his voice tinged with resignation.

She appeared on his desk again, her expression sour. The room seemed to dim slightly as she materialized, her presence casting a subtle chill over the space. Her form flickered in and out of focus, like an image caught between dimensions, adding to the eerie atmosphere.

As much as he'd hate to admit it, Law was relieved to see her. 

"You're really no fun at all when you're this kind of grumpy," she remarked, frowning deeply. Her voice echoed slightly, as if coming from a distant place, sending a shiver down Law's spine. Her fingers traced the cup of writing utensils on his desk before knocking it over. 

"Something caught your eyes, Doctor?"

Law couldn't help but notice how her white dress floated around her, reminiscent of a wedding gown. It billowed softly as if caught in an unseen breeze, lending her an otherworldly elegance. Yet, beneath the ethereal facade, there was a hint of something darker, something that stirred unease in the depths of Law's soul.

"I hate when people give in so easily," she continued, plucking a few papers off his desk. Her movements were fluid, almost hypnotic, as if she were dancing to a tune only she could hear. "That doesn't make it very fun for me."

"Or maybe it's easier this way. We have so much to attend to. Such little time."

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes, knowing it would only provoke her further. Instead, he leaned back in his bed, watching her with a mix of irritation and curiosity. His gaze lingered on her sharp features, the delicate curve of her lips, and the piercing intensity of her eyes. There was a magnetic pull to her presence, a strange allure that he couldn't quite comprehend.

"What do you want from me?" he asked, his voice weary.

She sighed dramatically, as if his question was the most obvious thing in the world. "You keep asking that. I find it tedious to repeat."

Law's jaw clenched at her words, his memories stirring uncomfortably. Images flashed through his mind, fragments of a past he had tried so hard to bury. He felt a knot forming in the pit of his stomach, a mixture of fear and longing that threatened to consume him.

"I don't need to agree to anything," he replied, his tone sharp.

She shook her head, her expression softening slightly. "But you do, Law. You do."

With that cryptic statement, she vanished from sight, leaving Law alone in his bed, his thoughts swirling with memories he'd rather forget. As the silence settled around him, he couldn't shake the feeling of her presence lingering, like she was haunting the corners of his mind.

Speaking of ghosts-

"Come back here! I'm not finished with you!"

A stack of paperwork came flying toward his head, and Law barely managed to block it.

"You're getting on my nerves now, Law," she said, her tone laced with playful menace. She was closer now, perched at the edge of his foot-board as if she were riding a horse.

His eyes traced over the curve of her bottom and hip before looking to the dip of her tummy and waist. Her arms were bare and almost sparkled as she faded in and out of focus. The layers of her dress did nothing to hide her curves, and he found that dangerously low sweetheart neckline again, which managed to conceal her bust.

"Is this all you're going to do? Yell for me to come and go before I give you more nightmares?" she taunted, her voice a sultry whisper that sent shivers down his spine. "And then salivate over me like a dog?"

She moved gracefully, her forearms now supporting her upper body on the bed while her face rested in her palms. The lights continued to play tricks on his eyes, and he felt the coldness of her figure and the purple glow of her eyes locked on him.

Law's breath hitched as she inched closer, her presence an intoxicating mix of danger and allure. He could smell her faint, floral scent, mingling with the electric tension in the room. Her eyes, deep and enigmatic, seemed to peer into his very soul, and he fought the urge to reach out and touch her. She was a ghost, an illusion, but the heat in his chest was undeniably real.

"You're haunting me," he murmured, his voice strained with a mixture of frustration and longing. "Why do you keep coming back?" He was going crazy at this point. 

She laughed softly, the sound like silk brushing against his skin. "I don't know," she said, her lips curling into a teasing smile, "maybe because you make me feel alive."

Her words hung in the air, thick with implication, and Law felt his resolve waver. Every part of him ached to pull her closer, to feel her cool skin against his, to lose himself in her haunting beauty. But he knew better than to trust a ghost, even one as captivating as her.

"They all think you're crazy, ya know?" she whispered, stalking closer to him, her form now almost catlike. He subconsciously swallowed a lump in his throat he hadn't known was there before.

"Poor baby, you really liked that dream earlier, didn't you?" she purred, her voice dripping with seduction. He had a clear view of her plush cleavage now, as she continued to crawl closer.

"You liked it, didn't you?" she repeated, smiling that perfect smile again, her plump red lips revealing her sharp canines.

Law's heart pounded in his chest, a mixture of anger, fear, and something he didn't want to acknowledge. Her presence was overwhelming, her beauty intoxicating in a way that made him feel weak. "Get out of my head," he demanded, his voice trembling slightly despite his efforts to sound strong.

She laughed softly, a sound that sent shivers down his spine. "Oh, Law, I'm not in your head. I'm right here," she said, her fingers trailing along the edge of his bed as she moved even closer.

"Why fight it? Why not enjoy it?"

Her eyes locked onto his, a dangerous blend of mischief and longing. She was close enough now that he could feel the coolness emanating from her skin, a stark contrast to the burning heat pooling within his tummy. Her touch was light, teasing, as her fingers traced up his arm. Law flinched at the freezing contact but didn't pull away.

"You can't deny it," she whispered, her breath ghosting over his ear, sending another shiver down his spine. "You crave this, crave me."

Her words wrapped around his mind like a vice, squeezing out any coherent thought. He hated how easily she unraveled him, how her mere presence could reduce him to this state of helpless desire. His fists clenched at his sides, knuckles white with the effort of resisting her pull.

"You're wrong," he managed to say, though his voice lacked conviction. Law clenched his fists, trying to hold on to his sanity. "Because you're not real. You're just a figment of my imagination," he insisted.

She moved her hand to his cheek, her touch cold yet strangely comforting. She tilted her head, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Are you sure about that?" she asked, her voice a low whisper. "I feel pretty real to me." She placed a hand softly on her bust line and leaned closer. 

"Reality is overrated," she murmured, her lips brushing against his ear. "What's wrong with indulging in a little fantasy?"

Her lips were tantalizingly close to his, and he could see the flicker of amusement in her eyes, the satisfaction of knowing she had him cornered. The room seemed to close in around them, the air thick with tension and unspoken desire. Law felt himself leaning into her touch, the battle within him slipping away as her allure grew impossible to resist.

He wanted to argue, to push her away, but the warmth of her breath on his skin and the intense gaze of her eyes were making it difficult to think clearly. "What do you want from me?" he asked again, his voice almost a plea this time.

She smiled, a hint of something dangerous in her eyes. "I want you to remember, Law. Remember your dream, remember the love we shared," she said, her fingers brushing against his cheek. The touch was cold, but it sent a jolt of electricity through him.

Law's mind raced, fragments of memories flashing before his eyes. He saw glimpses of a life he had tried to forget, moments of happiness and pain intertwined. "I can't," he whispered, his voice breaking. "I can't go back."

She leaned in closer, her lips inches from his. "You can't run from your past forever, Law. Sooner or later, it catches up to you," she murmured, her breath sending another shiver down his spine.

He closed his eyes, trying to block out her words, but they echoed in his mind. He knew she was right, but the thought of facing those memories was almost too much to bear. "Leave me alone," he pleaded, his voice barely audible.

"You know you want to," she said, her voice a siren's call. "Just let go, Law. Let yourself feel."

"NO!"

Regaining his will, Law managed to turn his cheek at the last second. Her lips brushed against his skin, a mere whisper away from where he had almost lost himself. Her hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, and despite his momentary resistance, he found it nearly impossible to pull away completely.

Her breath was cool against his cheek, her proximity intoxicating. Law's heart pounded as he fought to maintain control, but her presence was overwhelming, and the desire she ignited in him was fierce and unrelenting. He could feel the darkness creeping in, the edges of his consciousness blurring as she pressed closer.

"Why fight it?" she whispered, her voice a seductive murmur against his ear. "You can't resist me forever."

With a surge of determination, Law grabbed her wrists, but instead of pulling away, he used his strength to pin her down onto the bed. Her eyes widened in surprise, a flicker of excitement dancing within them. He hovered over her, his breath ragged and his pulse racing.

"Enough," he said, his voice rough with effort. "I won't let you control me."

She squirmed beneath him, a mix of frustration and desire evident in her movements. "Such a stubborn man," she said, her tone almost affectionate. "But you're only delaying the inevitable."

He tightened his grip on her wrists, holding her firmly against the mattress. Her body was cold beneath his, a stark contrast to the heat coursing through his veins. He could see the defiance in her eyes, but also a challenge, daring him to resist her pull.

As he lay there, trying to steady his breathing, he couldn't shake the feeling of her touch lingering on his skin. The coldness of her fingers, the intensity of her gaze – it all felt too real to be just a dream. And as much as he wanted to deny it, a part of him couldn't help but wonder if she was right. If his past was truly catching up to him, and if he had any hope of escaping it.

"Leave," he demanded, his voice gaining strength. "Get out of my head and my life."

She sighed softly, her hand cupping his cheek. "For now," she said, her voice gentle but firm. "But I'll be back, Law. And next time, you won't be able to push me away."

For a moment, they were locked in a tense standoff, his body pinning hers to the bed, his breath mingling with hers in the charged air between them. Then, slowly, her form began to fade, slipping through his grasp like smoke.

As she vanished, Law collapsed onto the bed, his body trembling with the aftermath of their encounter. He knew she was right. She would return, and he would have to face her again.

"Fuck," 

Law was now alone in the dimly lit room, his mind a chaotic swirl of emotions. He slumped back against his pillow, exhaustion and turmoil weighing heavily on him. He knew he needed to rest, but the thought of closing his eyes and facing the possibility of another dream with her was almost too much.

As he lay there, trying to steady his breathing, he couldn't shake the feeling of her touch lingering on his skin. The icy coldness of her fingers, the intensity of her gaze, her body under his, her captivating voice, her attention – it all felt too real to be just a dream. And as much as he wanted to deny it, a part of him couldn't help but wonder if she was right. If his past was truly catching up to him, and if he had any hope of escaping it.

With a heavy sigh, Law closed his eyes, trying to push the thoughts away. But even in the darkness, he couldn't escape the memories that haunted him, the ghost he was trying so hard to forget. 

Law sighed, his fingers massaging his temples as he tried to make sense of everything. The spirit's words echoed in his mind, but he couldn't dwell on them. Not now. He was about to lean back when the door to his study opened again, as Bepo, Luffy, and Franky entered.

"We still can't figure out why the power is draining," Franky said, his brow furrowed with frustration. The usual confidence in his mechanical prowess was absent, replaced by genuine concern. "But Robin found the rock Luffy kicked into the submarine. She was about to put it back, but we thought you might want to see it first."

Law sat up a bit straighter, nodding. "Bring it here," he instructed, his voice steady despite the turmoil within him. He tried to push the lingering presence of the spirit from his mind, focusing on the problem at hand.

Luffy glanced at the untouched soup on Law's desk, his eyes narrowing with a mix of concern and curiosity. "You need to eat, Law," he said, a hint of worry in his eyes. "It's weird, though. It's still hot after all this time."

Law's focus wavered, his thoughts scattering like leaves in a storm. He hadn't even noticed the soup, its steam still curling lazily into the air. Luffy, impatient as ever, grabbed the bowl and practically shoved it into Law's hands. "Eat," he insisted, his voice brooking no argument.

Law sighed but took a spoonful of the soup, the warmth spreading through him like a soothing balm. The rich aroma of the broth mingled with the lingering scent of the spirit, creating a bizarre contrast that made his head spin. "Fine, I'll eat," he muttered, reluctantly accepting another spoonful from Luffy before taking over himself. The heat of the soup was a stark reminder of his physical needs, grounding him in the present moment.

Bepo stepped forward, holding out the rock carefully. "Here it is, Captain," he said, his voice tinged with curiosity. The rock was unremarkable at first glance, but Law knew better than to dismiss anything as ordinary in their world.

Law took the rock, examining it closely. Its surface was rough, but there was something almost magnetic about it, a faint hum of energy that resonated with the submarine's systems. He could feel the power within it, a strange pulse that seemed to sync with his own heartbeat.

"What do you make of it?" Franky asked, leaning over to get a closer look. His mechanical eye whirred as it adjusted focus, trying to analyze the rock's composition.

Law frowned, turning the rock over in his hands. "It's not just any rock," he said slowly, feeling the weight of his words. "There's something embedded in it, something that's draining our power." He looked up, meeting their eyes. "We need to figure out what it is and how to neutralize it."

Luffy, still hovering nearby, finally relaxed a bit, seeing Law more engaged. "Good. Then you can get back to full strength," he said with a nod. "And make sure you finish that soup."

Law managed a small smile, appreciating Luffy's blunt concern. "Thanks, Luffy," he said, taking another spoonful of the soup. The warmth continued to spread through him, mingling with the determination that now filled his mind. For now, that was enough to push the spirit's haunting presence to the back of his thoughts.

Bepo watched anxiously. "Please don't get sick, Captain," he pleaded, his worry evident in his wide, expressive eyes.

Robin entered the room, the strange rock in her hands. She placed it carefully on Law's desk, her movements precise and deliberate. "I have updates," she said, her voice calm and steady.

"We've made some progress with the shelter on the land by the ruins. Franky and Usopp have done a good job, but the fog and snowstorm are messing with Nami. She's fallen ill, and Penguin is sick as well. Chopper is taking care of them."

Law's agitation grew, his sense of responsibility weighing heavily on him. He felt a familiar pang of guilt settle in his chest. "It's my fault," he muttered, guilt gnawing at him. "I should have been more careful."

Luffy, noticing Law's distress, turned to Robin. "Robin, there's something else. A spirit has been bothering Law. We think it's connected to all this."

Robin's eyes widened slightly, her keen intellect immediately processing the new information. She thought for a moment before speaking. "A spirit? That could explain the strange weather and the sickness. Perhaps we disturbed her or disrespected the ruins, and this is her way of retaliating."

Law's jaw tightened as he processed her words. "What do we do about it, then? How do we fix this?" He turned to Luffy. "Has Zoro been able to contact Perona?"

Luffy shook his head. "We were able to speak to her for a few minutes, but whatever she was trying to say was lost in the static."

Robin placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, her touch grounding him. "First, we need to understand more about her and her connection to these ruins. Maybe there's a way to appease her or set things right."

Franky nodded, his mechanical arm gleaming in the dim light. "Yeah, we can’t let this spirit keep messing with us. We'll figure it out, Captain."

Luffy grinned, his confidence unshaken and infectious. "We'll take care of this together. Don't worry, Law."

Law took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. The weight of his crew's expectations and the responsibility of their wellbeing pressed down on him, but he knew he couldn't afford to falter. "Alright," he said, determination creeping back into his voice. "Let's figure this out."

Robin's thoughtful expression turned to one of determination. "I'll start researching more about these ruins. There must be some clues about the spirit and how to appease her."

Luffy patted Law's back with a reassuring smile. "And you keep resting. We'll handle the rest."

Law nodded, taking another spoonful of the soup. But the food didn't sit well in his stomach now, churning with the anxiety and guilt he felt. His mind was still buzzing with thoughts of the spirit and the dream, but for now, he focused on the task at hand. They had to figure this out, for the sake of the crew.

The strange rock lay on his desk, a silent enigma that held part of the answer to their troubles. Law's fingers traced its rough surface, feeling the faint hum of energy within it.

"We'll start with this," he said, his voice resolute. "Whatever's inside this rock, it's connected to the spirit. We need to understand its nature and how to neutralize it."

Robin nodded, already deep in thought. "I'll analyze it further and see what I can find. Meanwhile, we need to gather as much information as possible about the ruins and the spirit."

Law looked around at his friends, their faces filled with determination and loyalty. They were in this together, and he drew strength from their unwavering support. "Thank you, everyone," he said quietly, his heart swelling with gratitude. "We'll get through this. I promise."

His mind was still buzzing with thoughts of the spirit and the dream, but for now, he focused on the task at hand. They had to figure this out, for the sake of the crew.

Robin left the room to start her research, and Franky followed to help where he could. Bepo lingered a moment longer, looking at his captain with concern.

"Don't worry, Bepo," Law said, managing a small smile. "We'll get through this."

Bepo nodded, his expression determined. "Yes, Captain."

As they all left the room, Law sighed and leaned back in his chair. The lights overhead flickered again, and he couldn't shake the feeling that the spirit was watching him.

"I know you're here," he said quietly, waiting.

Law's eyes followed the spirit as she appeared by his bookshelf, her form shimmering slightly. She looked almost amused as she glanced at him. "What, do you wanna pick up where we left off?" Her voice wasn't as teasing this time, a hint of something more serious lurking beneath.

She cast a disdainful look at the rock on his desk. Law picked it up, observing her reaction. She rolled her eyes. "I'm not afraid of the stone," she said, and as he quirked an eyebrow at her, she sighed. "And no, you can't get rid of me by putting it back."

Law set the rock down and took a seat at his desk. "You kept my soup hot," he stated, more than questioned.

She shrugged, casually picking through his reading selection. "You need to be somewhat healthy for me to mess with you."

He watched her finger his figurines before asking, "Why did you let me touch you?"

She stopped, and the room held its breath. Then, she continued rifling through his books. "I wanted to see what you would do."

"Was that a test of some sort?" he asked, his annoyance growing. He began to creep his chair closer to her, hoping she wouldn't notice.

Her gaze flicked to him, a smirk playing at the corner of her lips. "Maybe," she said cryptically, her eyes glinting with mischief. "But then again, maybe I just wanted to feel something." She paused, her expression growing serious.

You worry about the wrong things, Law. You and that Straw Hat boy have a very sweet crew out there."

This statement caused Law to stop moving. "I thought you were only here to bother me."

She turned her back to him again, continuing to flip through the pages of a particularly interesting book. "I never said they were off the table either. I must say though, that Lady, Robin, is my favorite so far. Such a shame, though. Really, it truly is."

"What is?"

"They're the best crew I've seen here in eons, and yet it won't stop what's about to happen."

Law's mind raced as he tried to make sense of the spirit's words. The cryptic warning hung heavy in the air, a looming shadow over their already precarious situation. He couldn't afford to let his guard down, not when the safety of his crew was at stake.

His thoughts turned to his comrades, each one dear to him in their own way. They were more than just a crew; they were his family, his nakama. And he would do whatever it took to keep them safe, even if it meant facing down the darkest of threats.

"What are you talking about?" he asked in a low, dangerous tone. 

"Oh, you know," she said, thumbing another page. "Accidents happen pretty often in old ruins. Especially when..."

The room grew colder, the lights flickering between too bright and too dim, making it hard for Law to focus on her. Her dress, he now noticed, was backless, an eerie elegance to her form.

"...especially when spirits are involved," she finished, her voice dripping with menace. "All it takes is one misstep, one moment of distraction, and—"

Law's patience snapped. He grabbed the rock and hurled it at her feet. The spirit disappeared just before it struck, leaving the rock to clatter on the floor.

"I thought you weren't afraid of the stone?"

The spirit reappeared on his desk, her presence looming over him like a dark cloud as she used her heeled foot to turn him around to face her. Grabbing the cuff of his shirt, she pulled him close, her icy nails digging into his throat as she tightened her grip.

"Did you really think that was a smart idea?" she hissed, her breath cold against his skin. Despite being shorter than him, she effortlessly lifted him and hurled him to the floor. He scrambled to his feet, only to duck as she launched his entire desk at him. 

"You mocked me one step too far," she declared, her voice filled with fury. He used his Devil Fruit powers to shield himself from the barrage, looking up at her from behind his barrier.

As she threw the chair at him, she taunted, "You don't really believe in me, do you? Or my power." The room grew colder, a small storm brewing inside. Law could hear the Polar Tang's alarms going off, his crewmates banging on the door, trying to open it.

Locking eyes with Law, she smirked and touched the door handle, freezing it shut. He could hear Bepo shouting about the sub going down soon and the urgency to get him out so Robin could place the sub on land.

Law's heart raced as he faced off against the enraged spirit, her power threatening to overwhelm him. He could feel the weight of her anger pressing down on him, a suffocating force that threatened to crush him under its weight.

With a surge of adrenaline, Law pushed himself to his feet, his mind racing as he searched for a way to turn the tide of the battle. He couldn't afford to let his crew down, not when they were depending on him to protect them.

Gritting his teeth, Law focused his will, channeling his Devil Fruit powers to create a barrier around himself, shielding him from the onslaught of furniture and debris. But even as he defended himself, he knew he couldn't keep this up forever. The spirit was relentless, her fury fueling her attacks as she sought to destroy everything in her path.

Desperation clawed at Law's chest as he struggled to find a way out of this deadly game of cat and mouse. He could hear his crewmates' voices growing fainter as the Polar Tang sank deeper into the icy depths below. Time was running out, and he knew he had to act fast if he wanted to save them all.

"Now they get to suffer because of you," she whispered, her voice echoing in his mind.

Law's blood ran cold as the spirit's words echoed through the chaos, her voice dripping with malice. He watched in horror as she lifted the rock, her grip tightening around it like a vise. "Ya know," she sneered, her eyes glinting with wicked delight, "I was going to let them all live."

His heart hammered in his chest, a surge of panic coursing through him. Fear for the lives of his crew and friends gripped him tightly. He felt helpless, vulnerable, as he faced this powerful spirit alone. The weight of responsibility bore down on him as he realized the consequences of his actions.

"No," he whispered hoarsely, his voice barely audible over the cacophony of screams and sirens. "You can't..." 

But before he could finish, the spirit's laughter cut through the air like a knife, chilling him to the bone. With a cruel twist of her powers, she hurled the rock against the floor of the sub beneath his feet, the impact shattering it with a deafening crack.

Water gushed into the sub with terrifying force, flooding the cramped space in an instant. Law stumbled backward, his heart pounding in his ears as the icy tendrils of seawater wrapped around him like a suffocating embrace.

The screams of his crewmates mingled with the wail of the sirens, a symphony of terror that filled the air. He could feel the panic rising within him, threatening to consume him whole.

Desperately, Law tried to summon his Devil Fruit powers, but the saltwater seeping into his wounds rendered them useless. He could feel his strength draining away with each passing moment, his vision swimming as darkness crept in at the edges.

"Please," he gasped, his voice barely a whisper as he struggled to stay conscious. "Stop this..."

But his plea fell on deaf ears as the spirit continued her rampage, her laughter echoing in his ears like a haunting melody. He knew he was running out of time, his breaths coming in shallow gasps as the water closed in around him.

With one last effort, Law reached out to the spirit, his hand trembling as he tried to make contact. "Listen to me," he pleaded, his voice raw with emotion. "Please, just listen..."

But his words were lost in the chaos, swallowed up by the roar of the sea and the screams of his doomed crewmates. And as darkness danced across his vision, Law knew that he had failed them all.

Law's desperation surged as he struggled to stay afloat amidst the chaos. With the water rising around him, he knew he had to act fast. 

"I'll make a deal with you!"

To his surprise, the spirit paused, the storm around them slowing to a crawl. Time seemed to stretch, each moment drawn out to an agonizing eternity.

"So now you want to make a deal? Okay," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she sat down on his desk and crossed her legs. Law could see her face now, her features illuminated by the eerie glow of her purple eyes. Her expression was hardened, her gaze like shards of ice.

"Go on," she taunted, her lips curling into a mocking smirk. "Plead your case."

Law heaved a ragged breath, suppressing a groan as he struggled to gather his thoughts. "I offer myself and my services to helping you," he began, his voice steady despite the pain coursing through his body. "But only if you agree not to harm anyone else."

The spirit scoffed, her laughter echoing in the stillness of the room. "And why should I listen to you?" she countered, her tone laced with contempt. "You're in no condition to make demands of me."

Anguish washed over Law as he thought of his crewmates, their lives hanging in the balance. "I don't want my crew hurt," he insisted, his voice pleading. "I have a right to know what I'm getting myself into."

The spirit's eyes narrowed, a flicker of amusement dancing in their depths. "Where is your humanity, spirit?" Law demanded, his voice trembling with emotion.

"Beg for it," she replied, her voice a cold whisper that sent shivers down his spine.

For a moment, Law looked at her with pure hatred, the weight of his powerlessness crushing him. But then, with a resigned sigh, he knelt down on the floor, his head bowed in submission.

He heard faint footsteps approach him, the sound echoing in the silence of the room. And then, suddenly, he felt her heel lift his chin, forcing him to look up at her.

Their eyes locked, Law's gaze filled with defiance even as his heart pounded in his chest. He knew he was taking a risk, placing his trust in a being he could barely comprehend. But in that moment, he had no other choice.

"Fine," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'll do whatever it takes to save my crew. Just... don't let them suffer because of me."

The spirit's presence seemed to loom larger as she dropped Law's head, her form radiating an eerie calmness that belied the chaos surrounding them. The dim light of the room cast haunting shadows across her features as she spoke, her voice carrying a weight of centuries-old longing.

"I want you to find my body," she stated, her words hanging heavily in the air like a dark omen. Law's brows furrowed in confusion, his mind struggling to comprehend the gravity of her request.

"Your body?" he echoed, his voice tinged with disbelief.

"Yes," she affirmed, her tone unwavering. "My physical form lies hidden within the depths of these ruins. I need you to free it for me."

As Law processed her words, a surge of questions flooded his mind, but he pushed them aside, his thoughts instinctively turning to his crewmates. With a solemn nod, he fought to steady himself, using the bookshelf for support as he rose to his feet.

Her expression remained unreadable as she dropped his head and stepped back, a mysterious aura surrounding her. "You can't live in those ruins," Law stated firmly, his tone laced with authority.

She looked at him with a mixture of surprise and irritation. "Really? I wasn't aware," she replied, her voice dripping with sarcasm. She examined her pointed nails with disinterest, seemingly unfazed by his assertion.

Law, undeterred by her attitude, held his hand out to her once more, determination in his eyes. "Regardless, I can't let you stay there," he insisted, his voice unwavering.

She regarded him with a skeptical gaze before finally relenting. "Fine," she conceded, a hint of begrudging acceptance in her tone. "But on one condition."

Law raised an eyebrow, silently urging her to continue.

"I want you to find my body," she stated firmly. "Once that's done, you may choose one thing from the ruins to take back with you. Then, you must leave and never return."

Holding his hand out to her, he gave her his word that he would help her.

She regarded him with a look of disgust, refusing his offer. "Try again," she demanded, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Law bit down the frustration bubbling in his throat before mustering the question. "What do you want me to swear on?"

She regarded him for a moment, a calculating glint in her eyes. "Swear on something more important than yourself," she replied, her voice insistent.

Law fell silent, contemplating her demand. Finally, he spoke, his voice carrying the weight of his conviction. "I swear on the kindness of Rosinante Corazon," he declared, his words firm and unwavering.

Her expression softened slightly as she searched his face for any sign of deception. Finding none, she nodded in acknowledgment. "Very well," she conceded. "I will not harm or kill your comrades, in addition to helping you find what you seek."

Law nodded in acceptance, holding his hand out once more in a gesture of agreement. However, she giggled and shook her head, her amusement evident. "No, dear," she said teasingly.

"I'll need something else."

With an exasperated huff, Law relented, allowing himself to fall forward. She caught him effortlessly in her arms, a small smile playing on her lips as she held him close.

As the water continued to rise, Law couldn't help but notice how it seemed to cling to her gown, the fabric dampening and molding to her form in a way that was both ethereal and unsettling. Each ripple of water seemed to caress her figure, accentuating the curves of her body in a way that was almost hypnotic.

The fabric, once pristine and flowing, now clung to her like a second skin, the dampness making it translucent in places, revealing glimpses of the pale skin beneath. Her gown, once a symbol of elegance and grace, now seemed to mirror the eerie beauty of the underwater world around them, the dim light filtering through the water casting an otherworldly glow on her form.

Despite the danger closing in around them, Law couldn't tear his eyes away from her, captivated by the way the water seemed to dance around her, enhancing her allure in ways he couldn't begin to comprehend. Each movement she made sent ripples through the water, the fabric of her gown swirling around her like a silken veil.

Even in the midst of chaos, there was a haunting beauty to her, a delicate fragility that seemed to defy the darkness closing in around them. And as Law struggled to keep his head above water, he found himself drawn to her even more, the allure of her presence eclipsing the fear that threatened to consume him.

Law felt a sense of urgency building within him. He struggled against the weight of his own body, the air growing thin as panic threatened to overwhelm him. Through the haze of his distress, he fixed his gaze on her, searching for any sign of relenting.

Her eyes, glacial and piercing, bore into his, holding him in a mesmerizing trance. The dim light flickered around them, casting eerie shadows on the walls as the tension crackled in the air.

Their faces were mere inches apart now, his breath mingling with hers in the cold, damp air. Law could feel the chill of her touch seeping into his skin, sending shivers down his spine even as her closeness stirred something warmer within him.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still as they lingered in the space between them, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavy in the air. Law's heart hammered in his chest, his pulse echoing in his ears as he waited for her response.

Then, with a soft exhale, she leaned in closer, her lips hovering tantalizingly close to his. The air crackled with anticipation, the tension between them reaching a fever pitch as they teetered on the edge of something unknown.

"The sub is going down fast," he gasped, his voice strained with urgency. "Do we have a deal?"

The spirit hummed thoughtfully, her fingers tracing the lines of Law's jaw as she cupped his cheeks in her hands.

"Deal," she whispered, her voice sending shivers down his spine. And as darkness closed in around him, Law felt her seal their pact, a fleeting brush of her skin against his, sending a explosive surge of cold warmth coursing through him even as the darkness closed in.

"If only he knew what he had just signed himself up for.~"

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

@mororona @mochiclouds @@xxsliverwolfxx @sosongstrawberry

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Posted on the ao3 account as well.

Part 1 Here. Part 2 Here.

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[ak-vintage]

Quarry - Chapter 20

Pairing: Din Djarin (The Mandalorian) x f!reader

Summary: Din Djarin is on what he expects to be his last bounty hunt for Greef Karga. After all, Nevarro is swiftly moving away from its previous reputation as a Guild member’s paradise, and Din has more important concerns now, like finding a Jedi to train his mysterious foundling. However, after capturing a wanted starship engineer who would rather go anywhere other than “home,” the Mandalorian is forced to reassess his priorities.

Your taste of freedom had been brief but glorious. Now you are a prisoner of the most infamous bounty hunter in the Outer Rim – it’s only a matter of time before he turns you in. There isn’t much you would not do to keep from being sent home, but as you find yourself growing closer to your captor and his strange little companion, you start to wonder whether escape is really what you want.

Set after Chapter 13: The Jedi but before Chapter 14: The Tragedy.

Chapter Tags & Warnings: 18+ MDNI! Reader is Mando's live-in starship engineer, second-person POV, no use of Y/N, minimal descriptors of reader character, angst, canon-typical violence and peril

Series Masterlist | Read on AO3

Note: Following along with the canon timeline, this chapter overlaps heavily with the events of the season 2 episode "Chapter 15: The Believer." You will notice borrowed dialogue and synced plot points.

---

“I did an initial scan of the planet.”

In the dim light of the navigation room, Boba Fett swiped through the holographic display hovering above the console. With his helmet tucked militantly under his arm, the pale blue image cast shadows along this rugged face. You watched as the holoprojector shifted from a three-dimensional rendering of the planet Morak to show the harsh, duracrete exterior of a mining facility constructed right along the edge of a massive waterfall. Pointing at the structure, he rasped, “This is what you’re talking about, right?”

The full crew compliment of the Firespray hovered around the console, each of you feeling a bit more sober, a bit more serious than you had in days as the reality of what you were about to do began to set in.

You were going to invade a remnant Imperial base. With a team of six.

“Yeah, that’s the refinery right there,” Mayfeld confirmed with a nod.

Fennec shifted on her feet, her expression grave as she examined the holo-rendering. “Wonder what they’re refining in there?”

“Looks like rhydonium.” Boba frowned. “Highly volatile and explosive.”

The inmate scoffed and crossed his arms over his chest, as usual unable to remain somber for very long. “Yeah, kinda like this one, huh?” he snickered, nodding in Cara’s direction.

You swore you could hear your eyes roll at his tasteless joke, but otherwise, the comment was met with silence. Both Boba and the marshal hit him with withering stares, while Fennec and Din appeared committed to pretending like they hadn’t heard him. Mayfeld grimaced then shrugged at you, as if to say, “Well, you can’t win them all.”

“They have anti-aircraft cannons protecting it,” Boba said, pointing out the armaments stationed on the roof of the facility.

Fennec nodded. “And a full platoon of security forces.”

Your stomach tightened, and you swallowed thickly against a wave of unease.

Okay, correction, you thought. You were going to invade a remnant Imperial base with a full compliment of troops and a robust defense system. With a team of six.

While tension seemed to be high among everyone else in the room, Din appeared…shockingly calm. Not at ease, exactly, but rather focused, centered, determined. He seemed more himself to you in that moment than he had in weeks, since that disastrous day on Tython, as though finally having a goal in front of him – something to do – had brought him a sense of purpose that he had been lacking. Something about that stillness, that confidence calmed you, eased the way for your breath in your chest. There was no one in the galaxy you trusted more than him. If he felt good about your chances, then so did you.

“So, we go in quiet,” he said simply, steadily. “Let’s go get a closer look.”

---

Boba set the Firespray down a handful of kilometers away from the refinery, nestling the ship in a snug little clearing on a rainforest-covered hillside, and after a short trek to the top of that hill, the group of you set up a stake-out of sorts, using the height and remoteness of your vantage point to observe the mining operations. It wasn’t long before you determined that the refinery was supplied with shipments of rhydonium from the mines to the south, and the shipments were delivered at regular intervals using long, segmented vehicles that from this distance looked more like caterpillars than mining transports. Each segment featured two massive, chain-covered tires, which had worn a well-defined path through the rainforest, digging deep grooves in the rich soil through overuse. The surrounding forest had clearly been decimated to make way for these makeshift roads, and dead trees and shredded vegetation lined the edges. The unnaturalness of the sight set your teeth on edge.

Once it became clear how the rhydonium made its way into the refinery, a plan began to form. You would need to disable one of these mining transports while it was out of sight of anyone tracking its progress, and two people from your group would need to replace the troopers inside. Thankfully, there was a tunnel nearby where the road cut straight through a steep hillside, so that part of the operation should be fairly simple to achieve.

What was not quite so simple, however, was determining exactly who would be replacing the transport’s two-person crew.

At first, it was Mayfeld and Cara, but then Cara was nixed because of her alliance with the New Republic. Her genetic signature was on their register, and apparently these sorts of facilities were equipped with security technology that would sense it and trip the alarm. When Fennec was proposed as an alternative, she confessed that she was wanted by the Imperial Security Bureau and would, therefore, trip the security net, as well.

Boba, of course, was a no-go, as well, as his face and his voice were so well-known that his true identity would immediately be detected, regardless of his genetic signature. And you? Well. No one even mentioned the possibility of you accompanying Mayfeld into the refinery.

You supposed it was just as well – your marksmanship was still spotty at best, and a few weeks of hand-to-hand combat lessons did not a competent fighter make, so if things went south, you truly would be a liability more than a support. Still, you couldn’t help but feel a bit sore over the whole thing, not at your friends but at yourself.

It had never been more apparent that you were cut from a different cloth than these people, that the things that made up your body and your mind were not the same as the things that formed them. You had told Din that for him, you would be a warrior, and you still meant it, but every once in a while, something would happen that would remind you of just how far you had to go to get there, and the realization would ache like a wound inside your ribcage.

As the bickering and debating rose in volume around you, Din’s voice cut through the noise with an authority that would not be ignored.

“I’ll go.”

The group fell silent, and you felt your jaw drop open, your brows rising to meet your hairline. There was no way – Din couldn’t –

Mayfeld seemed to be thinking the same thing as you. “Hey, buddy, I might be good at fast-talking, but I don’t think I can explain away a guy in a Mando suit to Imperial guards,” he scoffed dismissively. “So unless you’re gonna take off that helmet, it’s gonna be me goin’ in alone. Or say good-bye to your little green friend.”

Your gaze jumped to the bounty hunter, studying the breadth of his pauldrons against the lush landscape. He carried himself like someone who had already made up his mind, and the weight of that decision was already pressing on him, weighing him down.

“You’re not going alone,” he refuted. “I’m coming with you. But I won’t be showing my face. The transport crew wear helmets – I can see them.” He tapped the side of his own helmet with his forefinger, pointing to his opaque black visor. “They look like Storm Trooper helmets. No one will be able to see my face through one of those.”

His assertion hung in the air for a moment, and you glanced around at your companions, taking in their expressions. Fennec and Boba appeared as stoic as ever, but while Cara looked concerned, her dark brows drawn inward and her mouth turned down, Mayfeld could only be described as flabbergasted.

“You gotta be kidding me. You wanna take off your precious armor…and put on a Trooper get-up instead?”

“‘Want’ might be too strong a word. But it doesn’t seem like we have much of a choice.”

From there, the conversation became about logistics – how Din and Mayfeld would board the transport, how they would take out the existing crew, what they would do with their bodies, and so on, a conversation which was primarily spearheaded by Cara. While she walked the group through the rest of the plan, Din closed the distance between the two of you, wrapped his hand around your elbow, and led you gently away from the crowd.

After you were some distance away, he ducked his head down to your level and murmured, “I’m going to ask you to stay on the ship with Fett, cyare.”

You offered him a lukewarm smile in return. “I know. It’s okay, I was going to suggest that anyway.” Breaking his gaze, you found yourself staring down at his cuirass, tracing the edges of the gem-like beskar segment that rested directly over his breastbone with your eyes. “I don’t want to be a liability to the mission.”

The hand around your elbow contracted. “I don’t see you that way.”

“I know you don’t, but the last thing I want is for my being there to…be a distraction for you or put you in more danger than necessary. And Fennec and the marshal are more than capable of handling the long-range support on their own.” Fennec was, you knew, a renowned sniper, and with Cara’s almost absurdly large, heavy-repeating blaster rifle, the distance was sure to be no issue for her. Your novice skills with your small hand blaster were laughable in comparison. “I’ll just…read through my notes on Gideon’s light cruiser some more. Maybe by the time you guys get back, I’ll have some more solid ideas about how to make boarding and disarming it easier.”

At that, the bounty hunter dragged his hand from your elbow up to your face, cupping your head in his wide palm, tilting your chin up so you could meet his eyes once more.

“We won’t be long,” he promised. The warm, worn pad of his thumb traced over the apple of your cheek, and you brought both of your hands up to wrap around his wrist. The cool, ridged beskar of his vambrace bit into the calloused skin of your fingers as you anchored him to you, loathe to let him go.

“Din.” His name was a whisper on your breath, both a testament to your overwhelm and a prayer for privacy, a hope that no one would hear the intimacy of this moment and the use of his true name here, out in the open. “Be safe. Please.”

Something like a laugh, weak and gravelly, filtered through his helmet. “I’ll do my best, gotabor’ika.”

You might have said more, might have declared more, but before you could open your mouth again, Mayfeld’s sharp, acerbic voice cut through the softness of the moment like a hot knife.

“Hey. Lovebirds.” You glanced over at him with a frown, finding him standing a few feet away, staring at the two of you with his arms crossed over his thick chest. “C’mon, we gotta get a move on if we want to make it in on one of today’s transports.”

You felt your stomach drop at the reminder, and your fingers dug into Din’s beskar of their own accord, a silent protest at having to let him go knowing what a risk this was, what dangers awaited him inside the refinery.

But Din did not hesitate. Instead, he nodded curtly in Mayfeld’s direction, leaned down, and pressed the forehead of his helmet delicately against yours.

The familiar, loving gesture soothed your nerves, and you allowed your hands to release him finally as he drew back, bringing himself back up to full height once more.

In the distance, Mayfeld made a dramatic noise of disappointment. “What, no headbutt good-bye for me, sweetheart?”

The irreverence startled a laugh out of you, and you shook your head incredulously. “You be careful, too, Migs.”

“Careful? Me?” The inmate winked at you flirtatiously, bright blue eyes twinkling in the sun. “Never.”

---

As the only ones returning to the ship, you and Boba were the first to break away from the group. The short walk back down the hill was a silent affair, the former bounty hunter on high alert as he scanned the vegetation with vigilant eyes, and you were quite content to keep it that way. You found yourself far too tied up in knots over this infiltration plan to be very good company. Thankfully, he had never struck you as much of a conversationalist.

Of course, this wasn’t your first experience with overly stoic, taciturn men. It wasn’t even your first experience with overly stoic, taciturn men in full beskar, so you took comfort in knowing that his silence likely had nothing to do with you and everything to do with his own disposition. On any other day, those glaring similarities to your early days with Din on the Razor Crest might have sparked your curiosity, might have encouraged you to push against the edges of that comfortable silence in an attempt to get to know him better. But today? Today you were festering with entirely too much anxiety to try to get chummy with the older man.

When Boba excused himself to the cockpit, eager to get back behind the helm in case he was needed, you didn’t protest. Instead, you settled into one of the small handful of jump seats in the navigation room, drawing your datapad from your pocket and attempting to make good on your promise to Din – that you would spend this time refining the plan for boarding and subduing Moff Gideon’s light cruiser. However, it wasn’t long before you were back on your feet again, unable to keep still as thoughts of Din and Mayfeld and that looming Imperial base swirled in your mind.

You lost track of time then, the echo of your boots against the durasteel flooring dissolving into the background as your feet carrying you steadily from one end of the room to the other. It was hardly a conscious decision, but somehow the movement was soothing.

“I can hear you wearing a hole in my decking in there, little one.”

You seized immediately mid-stride, your gaze snapping to the open door into the cockpit where Boba lay on his back in the pilot’s chair, staring up at the controls and the viewport facing the sky. He couldn’t see you from where he was, but apparently, that didn’t mean he wasn’t paying attention to you. A flush blazed up the back of your neck as you stammered, “Oh. Ah – sorry, I’ll…cut it out.”

You heard him shift in his seat, as though he was angling himself to look back at you, but before he could say anything in return, a high-pitched alarm sounded from the console before him. You could see the flashing red light from where you stood, its glaring reflection bouncing off of the metal of the open doorframe.

“Blast…” he grumbled, and you could hear the rapid pressing of buttons and flipping of switches.

Your years of expertise had your ears perked up as you almost instinctually started trying to identify the problem, to pick out the pitch and the frequency of the alarm and try to match it with any of the standard alarm codes you were familiar with. “Everything okay in there?”

“Fine. One of the drive engines’ coolant lines is leaking again.”

“Again?” Your brows rose in apprehension as you came to hover outside the cockpit door. “Is this…a regular occurrence?”

A low, frustrated sigh crackled through Boba’s helmet vocoder as he fussed with the still-protesting console. “Recently, yes. She’s been doing this ever since I got her out of dry dock.”

Ah. That would explain it. Kuat drive engines were known for their longevity, but even they had their limits. “How long was she in storage?” you asked, your worries about Din and Mayfeld and the Imperials feeling further away as that old, familiar drive to solve the puzzle, to fix what was broken came to the surface once again.

He was silent for a moment, seemingly needing to add up the time in his head on the spot. “‘Bout five years, give or take.”

Not terrible, you thought. “And how long before that were the lines replaced?”

Boba twisted around in his chair at that, looking at you over his shoulder with something that you interpreted as incredulity. With the frankly odd design of the Firespray, this had him looking down at you while you stared up at him from the navigation room floor, the sight giving you a bit of vertigo as your neck craned upward.

“Not sure,” he admitted after a beat.

The offer was out of your mouth before you could think better of it. “You want me to take a look at them for you?”

His reply was quick and gruff, though not unkind. “I do my own repairs.”

Damn. You shrugged, tamping down the immediate swell of disappointment. “Suit yourself.”

This was a unique ship, entirely one of a kind after all of the custom modifications Boba had made to it over the years. The desire to get your hands on her hardware and untangle the web of original Kuat parts and aftermarket mods had been lingering at the back of your mind since you first stepped foot on the Firespray, and a part of you mourned that you might never get the opportunity to sink your teeth into that puzzle. Even so, a lot of pilots were particular about their ships. You couldn’t find it in yourself to fault him for not wanting someone that he hardly knew mucking around in his mechanicals.

Still, you couldn’t stop yourself from asking, “So what, every time this happens you’ve just been diverting everything from the busted line to a different one?”

Another series of button presses and switch flips in the cockpit, and the alarm fell silent. Boba released a sigh of relief, sagging back against his chair. “Until I can pick up replacement parts? Yes.”

“This ship has…what? Three F-31 drive engines?”

Glancing back over at you once again, this time the older man appeared impressed rather than dubious. “Yes, that’s right.”

“You know each of them requires a minimum of four functioning coolant lines or else you risk overheating and burning them out. Right?”

The angle of his helmet as he stared down at you told you all you needed to know about what he thought about your question. His voice low and gravelly, he replied simply, “Yes.”

You shrugged again, feigning nonchalance as you leaned against the bulkhead underneath the cockpit door. “‘Kay. Just making sure you know what you’re getting yourself into.”

“Just what do you suggest?” Boba’s patience appeared to be wearing thin, as he had gone from gruff to growling almost in the blink of an eye, but something about it didn’t feel as intimidating with him hanging perpendicular in the cockpit like that.

“Don’t wait until you can replace the entire line. Instead of rerouting everything every time one of them blows, patch it,” you said bluntly. “I know it’s a pain in the ass, but in my experience, it’s worth it. It’ll put less stress on your engines and let you run for longer in between maintenance stops.”

“Hm.” His response came across as more of a grunt than an actual word.

You could feel a hopeful little smile starting to pull at your lips. “What do you think? We’ve got, what? About 30 minutes before they’re ready for us?”

“More or less.”

“I can patch three of them in that time. I’ll do the rest for you at our next stop.”

Boba cocked his helmet at you in a gesture so reminiscent of Din that it almost had your heart stuttering in your chest. “Awfully cocky, aren’t you, little one?”

That flush from earlier returned in full force. This man was trouble. Shaking your head and praying that you looked more composed than you felt, you replied, “I like to think of it as confident.”

A warm, rasping chuckle filtered through his modulator. “Fine. Maintenance access tunnel is – ”

“At the base of the nav console, I know.” A thrill of victory coursing through you, you did not bother saying goodbye or asking any more questions. The moment you had his blessing, you were off like a shot, rounding the navigation console and hauling up the panel of decking just in front of it. You dropped into the dark, dusty crawlspace without a thought, and for the first time since the Razor Crest went up in flames, you felt a sense of rightness settle over your bones.

There was nothing quite like the bowels of a starship to make you feel at home.

---

As you had guessed from what little you knew of the Firespray’s original design, the vast majority of the ship’s mechanicals could be found in the wide, flat oval dish that made up approximately two-thirds of the ship’s body. Also as you had guessed, most of the ship’s original parts, at some point or another,  had been either heavily modified or gutted and replaced entirely, leaving the inside of the dish a disorganized hodgepodge of panels, wires, and tubing.

Well, perhaps “hodgepodge” wasn’t giving Boba enough credit. All of the work you encountered as you shimmied your way through the access tunnel had been neatly and meticulously done by someone who clearly knew this vessel inside and out – cables were deftly tied together and bracketed to the bulkheads, there wasn’t a single tube hanging dangerously across your path, and everything looked relatively clean, like it had been well sealed against the elements - though you admittedly struggled to make heads or tails of where he had installed each of the many aftermarket parts. For example, you were certain that the central life support systems were not designed to be housed right on top of one of the power generators, leaving them vulnerable if the generator were to surge. You supposed, over time, he had simply started making things fit wherever he could, whether it made the most parsimonious design sense or not.

Once you scurried your way through the crawlspace far enough to reach the drive engines, it took you a moment to locate each of their associated coolant lines, but once you did, the repairs proceeded smoothly from there. It was blatantly obvious which ones had worn through, and you found yourself feeling relieved that you had suggested this solution when you did. The largest of the three engines – the oblong one situated above the two round boosters – was down to a mere two functioning coolant lines. You prioritized the repair of that one first, patching where the aged, brittle tubing had split along its seaming.

Time melted away as you worked, the dim light that filtered through the deck plating strangely soothing, and just as you were crawling back toward the access hatch, the sharp snap of Fennec’s voice sounded in the far distance.

“We’re on,” she said over the cockpit’s commlink. You could hear blaster fire in the background, the sound making the little hairs on the back of your neck stand up. “Start your run.”

Boba’s response was quick and decisive. “On our way.” A beat of silence, and then, “Time’s up! Get away from the engines!”

A bolt of adrenaline shot through you, and you doubled your speed back through the crawlspace. A few seconds later, you hauled yourself up and out, sliding the deck panel back in place over the gaping hole in the floor. “It’s done!” you shouted up to the cockpit, no time to get to the comms panel. “Get us in the air!”

Beneath your feet, you felt the rumble and the hum of the drive engines engaging, and all around you, your surroundings began to shift. As Boba took the Firespray from laying flat on its back between the rainforest mountains to standing upright in midair, the navigation room remained stationary, the cockpit rotated to the space directly above you, and the wide transparisteel viewport dropped from the ceiling to the forward wall. Unlike when you had first come aboard, the sight didn’t make you dizzy or nauseous anymore. Instead, it simply filled you with awe, and you watched with wide eyes as the tops of the trees around you began to streak past at incredible speeds as Boba took off for the refinery.

Even in-atmosphere, the Firespray proved to be an almost laughably fast vessel. She cut through the humid air like a hot knife through butter, skimming and arcing around the mountainous terrain with an agility that even much smaller ships would be envious of, and with some deft piloting, it seemed to take less than a minute for the refinery to appear beneath the viewport. What you saw there, however, chilled whatever thrill of pride you might have felt as the speed of your rescue.

Two figures dressed in all black plastoid armor – one wearing a helmet, one very conspicuously not – had just heaved themselves up onto the refinery’s roof from a precarious ladder mounted to the side of the duracrete building. In pursuit, you counted no less than eight different Imperial combatants, all of whom had blaster rifles trained on the figures in black. Streaks of bright red blaster fire shot across the space between them, more than you could count, and you watched as the two retreating figures broke into a frantic run.

Heart in your throat, you darted over to the nav console and slammed your hand down on the internal comms panel. “We can’t land on that roof, Boba, there’s too many people!”

“Not planning on it, little one.”

More blaster fire erupted across the rooftop below, but the Firespray paid it no need. Swinging around to the front of the refinery, Boba guided the ship up and over the building. Glued mere inches from the surface of the viewport, you were transfixed as the pursuing Imperials began to drop in quick succession, picked off one by one by long-range fire that you knew had to be coming from Fennec and Cara up on the ridge. Still, the figures in black ran, and as you drew closer, it confirmed what you had already suspected – it was Din and Mayfeld, as yet unharmed, sprinting across the roof as fast as they could manage. Relief shuddered through you, breath catching in your chest, and on instinct, you reached for the viewport, pressing your palm flat against the cool transparisteel. They were alive, and they were going to make it out.

Your hand had no sooner touched the viewport that it began to rotate upward again. Jumping back from the edge of the navigation room platform, the ship spun around you once more to return to a horizontal position. The exit ramp began to drop open, wind whipping through the yawning door, and you gaped in the direction of the cockpit as you realized what Boba had done.

He had backed the Firespray up to the edge of the rooftop, leaving the ramp open for Mayfeld and your Mandalorian to jump into the ship.

You were at the top of the ramp in an instant, heedless of the flying blaster rounds that pinged off the surface of the hull and skittered across your path. The two of them were approaching the edge now, running at top speed, and for a brief moment, you locked eyes with Din through the visor of the unfamiliar Imperial helmet.

“Jump!” you cried, your voice swallowed by the wind, by the roar of the Firespray’s engines, by the shrieks of blaster fire.

With all the force he could muster, Din flung himself off the edge of the roof and landed with buckling knees on the open ramp. He managed to keep his footing, glancing back over his shoulder to Mayfeld, and then the inmate was right behind him. Launching off of the rooftop with a shout, Migs crossed the gap between the refinery and the ship in a hapless bound, landing hard on his knees with a distressed shout.

“We’ve got them! Get us out of here!”

Boba was quick to comply with your frantic shout, immediately drawing the Firespray away from the conflict. You lurched forward with the sudden change in speed, staggering out onto the ramp and wrapping your hand around Din’s bicep to steady yourself. Together, the two of you drew a breathless Mayfeld to his feet, but even as he regained his balance, the frantic, wide-eyed expression on his face remained.

“You okay?” you asked, gripping his armored shoulder firmly to get his attention. His gaze snapped to yours, and then he was scanning your surroundings, as though looking for something.

“Hand me that cycler rifle,” he said urgently, pointing off to the side of the ramp door where Boba’s thin, long-barreled slugthrower sat propped against the bulkhead. Din nodded once, obeying the request immediately, and passed the weapon into Migs’s hands.

With a steady, centering breath, the inmate raised the weapon to his shoulder, settled his cheek on the stock, and stared down the scope. One quick, even pull of the trigger, and on the surface of the roof, a mining transport vehicle erupted in a ball of fire.

That one explosion triggered another, then another, then another – several successive shipments of rhydonium all detonating at once, and before you knew it, the entire refinery had been engulfed in flames.

You and Din made quick eye contact with each other over Mayfeld’s shoulder, both of you sensing the significance of what he had just done, but then the moment was over, and the bald man was dropping the weapon and leaning it back against the wall where you had found it.

“We all need to sleep at night,” he said simply. In an unexpected gesture of camaraderie, Din clapped him on the back once as he ushered all of you deeper into the ship.

The ramp closed behind you, and all at once, the fact that both of these men had infiltrated an enemy base and come back to you alive washed over you. You were on Din in an instant, throwing both of your arms around his shoulders and dragging him down to your level. You pressed your forehead to the grimy plastoid surface of his unfamiliar helmet, missing the cool smoothness of the beskar, but the warmth of his hands on your hips felt the same as they always had. Cupping the sides of his neck, you ran your thumbs across the high neckline of his stolen Imperial uniform, feeling just the barest scrap of hot, smooth skin on the very tips of your fingers.

“Din,” you murmured, soft and close, and you heard him release a sigh of relief, the tension melting from his shoulders like ice under the summer sun as he wrapped himself around you.

“Cyare.”

From somewhere off to the side, Mayfeld made an exaggerated, disgusted sound. “When are you two gonna go back to bein’ mad at each other, huh? Fuckin’ hell.”

You grinned, something akin to fondness swelling in your chest at the familiarity of his sharp, ribbing tone. Pulling away from the Mandalorian, you swept Migs into his own hug, squeezing his broad frame tight against you. This startled a laugh out of him, and he patted your back in a placating gesture. “Yeah, yeah. Take it easy, sweetheart, I’m not tryin’ to have my ass kicked by your boy over there.”

You released him, giving his breastplate a good-natured shove. You had so many questions – had they been hurt at all, had they been able to obtain the coordinates they had been after, what had led to the shootout you had witnessed on the roof, what was with Mayfeld’s sudden decision to blow up the entire refinery? They all stood poised on the tip of your tongue, desperate to all spill over at once, but before you could even begin to untangle what you might want to ask first, Boba’s rasping voice echoed through the internal comm system.

“We got company,” he barked. “Hang on!”

The Firespray banked suddenly, sharply to the left, as though dodging something, and all three of you went flying as the floor lurched beneath you. You staggered backward, the deck rising up to meet you as you landed hard on your ass, Din grunted as his knees slammed into the floor right beside you, and Mayfeld yelped a curse as he swayed like a drunken man. The disruption lasted for a few moments, but as the ship evened out, the artificial gravity kicked in, giving you a sense of stability. You risked a glance out the front viewport then, a spike of fear shooting down your spine at the realization that you must have been pursued in your retreat.

It was as you had feared – sailing past the body of the Firespray were multiple, intermittent bursts of neon green laser canon fire. None had connected yet, but the fact remained that your escape from the refinery had not been quite as clean as you might have hoped. Someone was intent on not letting you get away.

Thankfully, it appeared that Boba had prepared for this. Beneath your feet, you felt a series of mechanisms engage, and somewhere far away, the groan of metal on metal sounded, like a door opening with great effort. A moment later, the whole ship rocked around you, and plumes of smoke bloomed from where behind the Firespray. Wisps of it floated up toward the viewport where you could see it, and you knew then that whatever had been chasing you, Boba had destroyed it.

---

“Well, looks like it’s back to the scrap heap.”

Mayfeld seemed resigned as you descended the ramp at his side, the Firespray having now landed at the rendezvous point where you were set to pick up Cara and Fennec. Din trailed behind, back in his beskar and looking much more like himself, and you exchanged a glance over your shoulder with him. You hated the idea of having to take Migs back to the penal world you had retrieved him from, and something told you that the Mandalorian might be feeling similarly. You weren’t certain what had transpired during their infiltration of the refinery, but whatever it was, it had seemingly shattered the tension between the two men, leaving them both behaving much less antagonistically toward each other after coming out on the other side.

You wished that the two of you had had an opportunity to be alone so you could ask him about it, but as it was, all you could really do was accompany him as he escorted the inmate back to Cara Dune’s side. As the New Republic marshal who had remanded him from prison, she would be the one to return him to custody.

As though summoned by your thoughts of her, Cara broke the treeline then, Fennec at her heels, both of them armed to the teeth with their long-range blaster rifles. You watched as her gaze landed on the three of you, her sharp features twisted into a smirk. Fennec simply nodded at you in acknowledgement and retreated into the ship.

“Thank you for helping,” Din said, entirely earnest when just a handful of days ago, such a sentiment would have been disingenuous. Mayfeld looked a bit bashful at the sincerity, and he shifted on his feet a bit in discomfort as he nodded.

“Yeah. Uh…good luck getting your kid back.” Turning to face Cara, the inmate grimaced and extended both hands toward her, wrists pressed tightly together in an imitation of binder cuffs. “All right, Officer. Take me back.”

You expected the marshal to produce a set of cuffs from her utility belt at that, but instead, she quietly studied the stubbly man before her, taking the measure of him as though suddenly seeing him through brand-new eyes.

“That was some nice shooting back there,” she quipped after a moment of tense silence.

“Oh, you saw that?” Mayfeld appeared almost embarrassed by the compliment, scratching the back of his neck as he squirmed under Cara’s intense gaze. “Yeah, that, uh, wasn’t part of the plan. Just…getting some stuff off my chest.”

The dark-haired woman nodded slowly, weighing his response, and then she turned to Din. Addressing him directly – and as though you and Mayfeld weren’t there at all – she said, “You know, it’s too bad Mayfeld didn’t make it out alive back there.”

Your jaw dropped, your gaze snapping from Cara to Din to Mayfeld and then back again, mind reeling at Cara’s words. Was she going to –

Din seemed to catch on before you did. It took no time at all for him to reply, “Yeah. Too bad.” Exaggerated. Like he was playacting, and poorly.

Migs seemed just as taken aback as you were. “What are you talkin’ about?” he snapped, his shoulders suddenly tense at the shift in the conversation.

The marshal, however, did not break eye contact with the bounty hunter and proceeded as though she hadn’t heard him. “Looked to me like Prisoner 34667 died in the refinery explosion on Morak.”

You huffed out a startled, breathless laugh as a wave of relief surged through you. Hand shooting out to grip the sleeve of his shirt, you whirled Mayfeld around to face you. “Go,” you whispered. You kept your voice down, as though trying to be discrete, trying not to draw the attention of either Din or Cara even though you knew they were right there, knew they could hear you just fine. “They’re letting you go!”

“Does that – does that mean I can go?” Migs asked aloud, his eyes still on the two figures in armor. “Huh? ‘Cause I will.”

Breaking character for a brief second, the Mandalorian wordlessly jerked his head to the side, indicating the forest path that Cara and Fennec had just emerged from. The inmate chuckled at that, finally glancing back at you with a relieved, disbelieving grin.

“All right. Okay.”

You squeezed his arm tightly, beaming back at him. Maker, this sweet, horrible, infuriating, pain-in-the-ass of a man. You had only had him in your life for a handful of days, and yet you felt as though you had been altered by his friendship. You had given you purpose, made you laugh, made you feel wanted when you had been so low, and you felt like a lighter, freer version of yourself now for having known him. And he had been willing to set aside his differences with Din to help you find Grogu, something neither of you would never be able to repay him for.

Migs Mayfeld was an asshole, but it turned out that he was also a good man.

Throwing caution to the wind, you yanked him toward you for a hurried hug, hoping the embrace conveyed all of the fondness and the well-wishes you sent along with him, and then you gave him a playful shove in the direction of the path. If he was going to go, it had to be now.

Mayfeld seemed to agree. He let you push him away, and then he was retreating down the path, arms out in front of him in a placating gesture that you knew was unnecessary now. Casting his gaze around to all three of you one last time, he sent you one final grin, a mock salute, and a half bow, and then he disappeared into the treeline.

You released a held breath then turned to Cara. Gripping her armored shoulder tightly, you breathed, “Thank you.”

A small smile quirking the corners of her lips, she inclined her head at you in acknowledgement but said nothing. Instead, she directed her next question at Din. “You get the coordinates on Moff Gideon?”

“We did,” he replied.

“What’s our next move?”

You glanced over your shoulder at him, wondering the same thing. The bounty hunter shifted his weight on his feet as he considered his response. After a beat, he said, “I have someone else whose help we can use. Someone who might want Gideon dead even more than I do.”

Cara and you exchanged dubious looks, and you thought that both of you must be wondering just who would want the moff dead more than Din.

The marshal shrugged then, arching an eyebrow in Din’s direction. “Okay then. Color me intrigued.”

You supposed if you were planning to take on a whole Imperial light cruiser on your own, with just your small group, you could use all the help you could get, but there was something in the hesitance of the Mandalorian’s response that had you questioning just what you would be getting yourselves into by inviting this person to join your party. However, your trust in him had never failed you before, so you set aside your misgivings and nodded. Whatever he needed to bring your boy back, you were going to help him get it. No matter what.

[binilpol]

Thank u for 100subs i cant believe i got this far so soon love u all sm<3

Idol!Heesung x idol!Y/N

(No she/he used for y/n)

The rhythmic clatter of the train on the tracks created a soothing backdrop as Y/N's group and ENHYPEN embarked on their journey to Jeju Island. The camera crew discreetly documented their excitement, capturing the sparkle in their eyes and the laughter that filled the air.

Heesung and Y/N strategically chose seats, finding a corner where they could exchange glances without raising suspicion. Their conversation was light, filled with chatter about the upcoming adventures on the island, yet laced with an unspoken connection that only they could feel.

Y/N: (leaning closer, voice low) Isn't the view from here incredible?

Heesung: (smiling, just as discreet) It's breathtaking, Y/N. This trip is going to be unforgettable.

As the train carried them forward, the gentle sway of the carriage provided a comforting rhythm for their hushed conversations. They spoke of their shared excitement for the adventures that awaited them on Jeju Island, each word carrying the weight of their secret bond.

Upon their arrival at Jeju Island, the group settled into their accommodations, the camera crew capturing their every move. Heesung and Y/N moved through the day with practiced grace, finding moments of quietude in the hidden corners of the island.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of pink and gold, they slipped away to a secluded spot by the beach. The waves murmured in the background, their soft song providing the soundtrack to their whispered confessions.

Heesung: (softly) The sound of the waves... it feels like they're singing just for us, Y/N.

Y/N: (gazing out at the sea) It's like the universe is keeping our secret safe.

With a tender smile, Y/N rested their head against Heesung's chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat providing a soothing lullaby. In that moment, the world seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of them, wrapped in the embrace of their hidden love.

Heesung: (gentle) I wish we could stay like this forever.

Y/N: (whispers) Me too, Heesung. This moment... it's perfect.

The next morning, the scent of the ocean mingled with the crisp island air, rousing the group from their slumber. Laughter echoed through the rooms as they prepared for the day's adventures, every interaction captured by the ever-present cameras for their YouTube video.

Sunoo: (cheerfully) Rise and shine, everyone! Jeju is calling!

As the others gathered, Heesung and Y/N were the last to emerge, their faces adorned with the remnants of sleep. They exchanged playful banter with Niki, their shared sibling bond evident in their easy smiles and light teasing.

Niki: (in Japanese, grinning) You two look like you just woke up from the best dream ever!

Y/N: (rubbing their eyes, chuckling) Niki, don't be jealous of our beauty sleep.

Heesung: (yawning, playfully) Yeah, it's an art, really.

Their laughter mingled with the sound of the waves, a chorus of shared joy that echoed across the island.

Throughout the trip, Heesung and Y/N mastered the art of subtlety, their stolen moments carefully orchestrated to remain hidden from prying eyes. Their love story unfolded in the nuances—the gentle touch of fingers, the shared glances laden with unspoken affection.

As the sun set on their final day, painting the sky in warm hues, Heesung and Y/N stood on the beach, their hearts entwined. They knew that these sun-kissed memories would forever hold a special place in their hearts, a testament to the power of love that thrived even in the most hidden corners.

When they returned to their bustling lives, the memory of their secret love on Jeju Island remained, a beacon of warmth and comfort in the midst of their busy schedules. Their hearts beat in harmony, a secret melody that only they could hear, a testament to the power of love that defied the odds.

[one-idea]

I love your Skyward Sword AU!!! I think Nami would be a weather goddess for sure ^_^

God but the Straw Hats trailing behind Luffy, constantly failing him in their mind... It would destroy them for sure, I can totally see Robin especially going off the deep end a bit (former assassin wants to KILL)

Oh for sure Nami is a weather goddess in their past life.

I want to place all the Strawhats as minor gods with Nika as a major. I think in the past they either all died and Nika gave up his immortality so that they could all reincarnate together. Or after Nika died and gave up his immortality they all followed suit to be with him again. I’m leaning more towards idea one

Some strawhats are easier to place than others

Luffy as Nika

Zoro as Asura

Nami as a goddess of weather (maybe call her Kiatsu meaning barometric pressure, or Tenki meaning weather.)

Usopp could be the god of lies and trickery (lies is Japanese is just Uso so I might have to work on that name a bit)

Sanji is a god of food/cooking

Chopper is obviously a god of medicine/healing

Robin could be wisdom/knowledge/history maybe something else as well

Franky is the spirit of inventions?

Book is music (obvious)

Jinbei is the ocean (obvious)

As for your second point… the idea that they are always a step behind, a moment too late to help. The are arriving to battle fields when the battle is over. Finding remnants of sea stone cuffs and other objects to hurt/imprison their captain.

And this is after Marineford, they all already feel like they failed Luffy once. He needed them and they weren’t there and he lost his brother.

Now he needs them again and they are always showing up to late.

I’m sure Mihawk is not painting a delicate picture for them. He’s not sparing any detail of what almost happened to Luffy at each spot. “If the Red hair pirates were here than….” Fill in the blank.

It absolutely starts to wear them down. Especially as them memories of their previous life starts to trickle back. They all feel like they are going crazy, and Luffy the one person who always brought confidence and comfort is not there.

I think the first time they arrive to a spot that still has marines at it they all go ballistic.

Zoro just launches himself from the boat at starts attacking them. He has to get to Luffy, he’s not going to be to late this time.

Sanji and Robin are right behind. Luffy just saved Sanji from Whole Cake not to long ago, he has to save Luffy. Robin well they’ve been harassing her sunshine Captain and she’s not letting that go.

There is a lot of pent up rage in the whole crew.

They won’t be to late this time.

It’s all for not. Luffy and Shanks already moved on.

But I don’t think any of them totally lose it until they catch back up to Luffy. The release that he is alright. That they are all back together. Only for it all to crumble as Luffy leaves to go hold back an enemy. This time they can’t follow. Not until they have their memories back.

Suddenly they have to face their past lives and every emotion that comes with putting the pieces of their past back together

The realization that Asura dealt Nika his fatal wound.

The memory of their own deaths

It’s a lot. And they all definitely break down in their own ways.

[tossawary]

So, I started thinking about a Kuina Lives + Strawhat Kuina AU specifically because of a paragraph on the wiki page. I was looking up info on Shimotsuki Village while I was taking down notes for a potential Pre-Canon ZoLu fic inspired by the live-action show.

Allegedly, the infamous 4kids dub CHANGED things so that Kuina didn't die, she was PERMANENTLY DISABLED to the point of being unable to pursue her dream. And my brain went: "?!" I see no reason why (aside from a few very extreme cases of disability) a disabled Kuina could not become a Strawhat pirate and go on adventures anyway! (Franky is a CYBORG who looks increasingly like a MECHA and Chopper's pills are BONKERS.)

Relevant quote: "Per standard policies, the 4Kids-dubbed anime censored her death, stating that she had been permanently injured by the friends of a man she'd defeated (and removing all scenes depicting her funeral or grave)." Which is driving my brain UP THE WALL with possibility when Kuina and Tashigi also supposedly both have names referencing flightless birds. The THEMES. The SYMBOLISM.

Personally, I still prefer Kuina becoming injured in an innocuous fall rather than having people directly responsible for her physical disability. The degree of her injury depends on what story that a person is individually writing. I see two potential ways forward (of many) that both interest me.

OPTION A: Kuina is physically disabled to the point of being unable to fight well generally, especially with swords. She uses a wheelchair and crutches to get around, and has some other lingering issues. So, like, she can definitely still whack people with a sword and shoot a gun, but Zoro is wielding Wado Ichimonji because Kuina feels she cannot do it justice. (But she's still supervising!!! She's Zoro's coach.)

Kuina's grandfather was a swordsmith, so in this case, she would end up in a smith, weapons expert, and quartermaster role for the Strawhats. She, Usopp, and Franky can be the Crafting Team! Ship maintenance crew! Kuina takes Merry's sinking nearly as badly as Usopp does.

OPTION B: Kuina has "mostly" recovered from her injury, which set her back for several years, but is still struggling. A dedicated female fighter on the Strawhat crew is VERY tempting as an idea. Monster quartet, yes? Yes! She's wielding Wado Ichimonji and Zoro is still searching for his own dedicated swords.

She could still be a swordsmith and quartermaster in this case! In either case, A or B, I think it might be cool to give Kuina a hook? (Kuina @ Crocodile: "Compensating for something, huh?") She could get other prosthetics or just super cool assistive devices as the story goes on with Chopper and Franky's help.

KUINA'S POTENTIAL ARCS: I do really like the idea of Kuina (if she can still fight with a sword) and Zoro moving forward together, neck and neck, for the title of World's Greatest Swordsman. I think it would be cool to come to a resolution that the title is more or less something that they can share? Like, only one of them can beat Mihawk in a "fair" duel, so that's an issue in the competition between them, but I do like the idea of the two of them going back and forth beating each other in duels, at the top of the world together.

Arguably, when Zoro sacrifices himself at the end of the Thriller Bark Arc, he has come to the resolution that he'll give up his dream for Luffy and the crew, where he gives up the last remnants of being self-centred and throws himself completely behind Luffy's philosophy of friendship and enjoying the journey. He still wants to be the World's Greatest Swordsman, but his crew comes first. I don't recall after this point any reckless moments of a similar nature to him stabbing himself in Orange Town when fighting Buggy's crew to prove a point. Zoro's recklessness culminates in sacrificing himself with purpose.

It does feel a little weak, but... Kuina could decide that she's comfortable in her own skills and doesn't need to prove anything to anyone. She KNOWS she's as good as Zoro is. She can declare herself the World's Greatest Swordswoman and let Zoro fight Mihawk. (They did probably flip a coin over it or something.) Maybe she never really wanted to be the World's Greatest, maybe she just wanted to live her life the way that she chose, and felt like becoming the World's Greatest was the only way of permanently shutting up every sexist jerk who has ever talked down to her. (They will never shut up. Sexist jerks will always find something to nitpick.)

ALTERNATIVELY: Kuina could have a heartbreaking and healing story about having to give up your dream because it's not physically possible anymore. Even if this is a story where she's still fighting as a swordswoman with Wado Ichimonji and is monstrously dangerous, maybe her physical disability prevents her from now fighting on Zoro's level, which really fucking sucks for her when she feels like she has so much to prove as a woman.

Shounen manga has always had an issue where the solution to some fights is that the protagonist just needs to "fight harder, yell louder, and believe in himself more", even when the protagonist is bleeding from everywhere. "One Piece" is fun because there are plenty of fights and problems where the protagonists succeed due to being genuinely clever, but there are other fights where it's all about a manifestation of willpower (sometimes literally). And this often works thematically.

I think Kuina would be interesting as a character for how she could contrast against Zoro, so I'm leaning towards giving her a very different story rather than making her Zoro 2.0 (Female).

For example, where Zoro is reckless, I think Kuina might be cautious, especially if she's been badly injured before and is still struggling. In flashbacks, she's open about her problems and anger to Zoro because he's her friend and also a safe target - he's an outsider / outlier in the dojo and she can beat him in a fight. In a martial school that probably demands some level of respectful behavior, Kuina might not display the same bravado and unhappiness to her father, who is also her teacher and responsible for the sexism that she's internalized.

If she's a swordswoman still, I don't know that she would challenge Mihawk at the Baratie. For one thing, it's STUPID. Zoro had to KNOW that he was nowhere near Mihawk's level and he's lucky that Mihawk had some level of honor and curiosity to spare him. If Mihawk had been a little more of an asshole, that would have been the end of Zoro's dream. He was really stupid there (affectionate, that's my boy). The smart thing to do is keep your mouth shut and live to challenge Mihawk another day, but I think Kuina would also hate herself for this kind of "cowardice".

Her personal struggle as a character might be with reserve and fear of risk, whether this culminates in her ultimately overcoming all obstacles and succeeding in her dream with the help of her friends, or in her giving up her dream due to a physical disability (or multiple physical disabilities) that is no fault of her own in favor of a new dream. You could try your best to combine all of these different elements into Kuina's arcs and abilities. There's a lot of possibility.

[ramblin-tiger]

“NO! I refuse to believe that this is the end!” The spectral man screamed at the cloaked figure standing before him, rage and sadness radiating from him almost visibly. The cloaked figure took a step forward and the specter lashed out with a fist, simply passing through the cloaked figure as if he they were both made of smoke. “Charles,” the specter froze as the cloaked figure spoke his name, “your time has ended in the physical word. It’s time to go and move on, there is nothing for you here.” Charles’ arms slowly lowered to his sides, almost as if defeated, as the figure spoke. “But. . . But this was my day. OUR DAY!” Charles’ fury began to grow once again, and he looked around him at the wreckage. Two cars lay mangled a few feet away as paramedics and firemen scurried around like ants, working frantically to save the two men from the vehicles. The cloaked figure looked over at the commotion for a moment. The paramedics had just begun to cover a man in a suit with a sheet as others attempted to save a drunken man from death. “I was. . . Finally getting married. . . The world finally changed enough for me to have this one thing, and that bastard,” he pointed at the drunken man that was now being loaded into an ambulance, “gets to live?” He screamed the last part at the cloaked figure. “Look Charles,” the cloaked figure began, “I don’t make the rules of the worlds we exist in. I merely follow them. While it is true that your time in the physical world was cut short, there is nothing that can be done about it. That is the way of life, it goes on and you exist until you die and then leave the physical realm.”

The hooded figure raised an arm, its sleeve shifting down to reveal a bony had as it rested it upon Charles shoulder gently. “I would be lying if I said I understood your pain, as this existence is the only one I have ever known. Taking those who have passed on to their next journey. Blame me if you want for that man surviving. Blame me for the crash. If that makes you feel better then you are more than welcome to blame me for the wrongs that have been brought upon you, but it’s still time to move on. . .” Defeat filled Charles’ eyes as the hooded figures words sank in, and his head sank. “I guess. . . I guess he’ll just have to go on without me then, huh. . .” The hooded figure nodded slowly as it lowered its arm. “That he will. It will take time as things always do, but eventually the wounds will heal, and he will grow to be happy again. Perhaps not as he once was but happy nonetheless. . ." The hooded figure paused a moment before speaking again. "Now then Charles, its time we left this place behind. ‘Tis no place to linger.” It offered a bony hand to Charles, and after a moment the specter took it and faded away as he began his new journey.

The hooded figure stood there for a moment and watched the cleanup crews and police bustling around what was left of the wreck, simply observing the goings on. From the corner of its vision, it saw a young woman wearing a white robe approaching him. “Death, its been a bit since we spoke last. How goes things with you?” Death looked at her from the depths of his hood, its faced concealed in the shadows within. “Another life passed, and another spirit almost broken. It’s always the same. The confusion, the rage. The hate. . .” Deaths voice was filled with sadness, not for itself but for those it had helped move on. Death paused for a moment before speaking again. “and what about you, Life? How goes things on your end?” Life smiled softly. “I watch life go on as always, growing and learning. Building and destroying. . .” Her smile faded as her brow furrowed in thought. “Hey Death, I have a question.” She looked over at the last remnants of the accident, a bit of shattered glass on the road, as traffic began to resume flow around them.

“Why do people love me but hate you?” Death raised a hand and pulled back its hood, revealing the barren skull that was its head as it spoke. “Because you are a beautiful lie and I am the painful truth.”

[teatitty]

Okay a bunch of bugbot Bumblebee thoughts I'm just gonna rattle them off as they come to me the coherency is not important: Bugbot Bumblebee who not only has emotive antenna and circuitry wings but also transforms into an actual beebot drone so he's zippin and flyin and zoomin everywhere, perfect little aerial scout who can get into so so so many tricky places and navigate many areas. He has so much energy he's constantly stimming in place - tappin his heel, swayin side to side, bobbin his head, flutterin wings etc

His beedrone form is the perfect size for being like the cybertron version of a lap pet. Very normal to see him in drone form just curled up sleepin in Optimus' lap or resting on Elita's head. His eyes are big almond shapes and when he's smiling or sleeping they never fully close so there's always this thin slit of blue light visible with them. If a mech is capable of hourglass figure that's him - most grabble waist you've ever goddamn seen and he's perfect cuddle size [like a plushie] so he gets pulled into hugs a lot. Wheeljack especially loves doin this

He's one of - if not the smallest mech among the autobots and his head barely reached Optimus' waist. Arcee insists he's on his tiptoes and Bumblebee denies it viciously. Bugbots are born in "hives" with a singular "hive mother" as their parent/maker. Bumblebee is the last surviving member of his hive. Jazz was the one who found him in the remnants of the hive, surrounded by hundreds of dead bugbots, curled up in the corpse of his hive mother. Because he was alone for so long he is massively touch starved and imprinted hard on Jazz, so a lot of his overly friendly and affectionate nature is from him [as well as his music taste]

For a long while, as someone who had lived isolated and alone for ages, Bumblebee often forgot to speak in regular cybertronian and would primarily communicate in more bugbot sounds - chitters, trills, beeps, clicks the whole works [think Mothra from Godzilla] and even now, if he gets really excited about somethin or is just extremely tired, he'll sometimes switch to that again mid conversation, a fact that he finds very embarrassing and is privately a massive insecurity of his

The autobots are like the first "family" he's ever had. His memories of his hivemates and hive mother are more like distant static - the only clear memory he has is being given the directive to "live and survive" so his bugbot instincts very much label the autobots themselves as "hive" and "hivemates." He is going to be the most helpful bestest scout ever so that he never fails them cannot fail them not like previous hive can prove his independance :]

Elita for sure sees him as a younger brother and calls him "Bebop" because the beepin was the first noises she ever heard from him. Outside of her, his main nicknames amongst the crew are "Buzzer" and "BB"

As previously stated, his wings being all exposed circuitry means they're extremely sensitive to touch - even a slight bend in the wing can be incredibly painful for him and requires a lot of delicacy to care for. Ratchet has never worked on bugbots before. If Bumblebee's wing ever gets shot, it will hands-down be one of the most stressful surgeries of his career as it'll also be the first one he's ever done of this kind. He's the only who can do it, and Bumblebee himself is in so much excrutiating pain he genuinely has no idea where he is or who anyone is, being in massive fight-or-flight mode which is. Y'know. Fun for all involved :)

Anyway, other hivemind behaviour he has is: head nuzzling, communal sleeping, snuggling into the warmest place possible and embodying the "snug as a bug in a rug" phrase, likes to sit on the shoulders of bigger bots, kickin his legs while natterin to them. He is very friend and, like all good scouts, is great at pickin up body language, general moods, various sounds around him, the usual scout things. He's very observant basically which is somethin you forget easily given his usual personality

Part of bein a scout is having the skill to sneak around undetected; Bumblebee can therefore be unnerringly quiet when he wants to, which makes it very easy for him to accidentally scare the spark out of other mechs. Ironhide cussed up a storm the first time this happened to him lol

[oneshotnewbie]

Deal with the devil

Pairing: Emily Prentiss x Reader

Authors note: That wasn't a request and it´s short but has been living in my head for a while so I had to write it out to make room and figured I'd post it ♥

Summary: When you make a deal with a dangerous gentleman, you capture the last moments of your life on video for your team and confess your feelings to someone special.

---

"I am afraid!" those were the first words your team heard when they played the video, which was brought into the BAU by a courier, a young boy who was paid extra to do it. "I am going to die.."

You had been swallowed up by the face of the earth for two weeks, your trail got lost in the sand and nobody knew by whom you were taken. But your team did not give up and ransacked every stone of your last place of residence several times.

Without a trace.

"Where is this video coming from? Garcia, can you filter anything out of the background?" Emily's words did not even begin to reach her. Shocked, with her mouth wide open and tears filling in her eyes at how exhausted and devastated you were, she was oblivious to the outside world.

Tears streamed down your thin face and you pressed your lips together to suppress a sob. Your face was sunken, deep-seated circles under your eyes showed the lack of sleep you had to endure.

"I made a deal with the devil to protect you, Em. And now he is come to kill me," you hastily wipe away a few droplets of salty water that have started to flow down your bloodied cheeks. "By the time you got this video, you will already be too late to save me and I know you are looking for me. No matter how hard you try, you will be too late."

The crew felt frozen in place, especially the hands and feet of the person addressed seemed to carry only a remnant of body heat. Her whole body felt like it was being pierced with needles. It did not hurt, but she could feel an uncomfortable and completely paralyzing burning sensation through every pore of her body.

"I am so afraid," you coughed quietly and looked around in the dark room, which was only surrounded by dim candlelight. The cold was gradually tearing your body into a deep tiredness, but with a remnant of your strength, you kept your eyes open with difficulty. From exhaustion, you slowly lowered your head to the side. Trembling fingers stroked your eyelids, which had briefly closed. "I wish you could set me free like you always do"

Emily could not move her arms or legs, they rested still at the sides of her body. Panic flickered in her fawn glassy eyes, her nose flushed from suppressing her feelings. After the first second of the video, she knew who had you.

Ian Doyle; he lured you in with lies and threats and had you in his power now.

Aggression mixed with deep anger, fear and sadness flowed in her head, leaving no room for clear thoughts. She narrowed her eyes and bit her lip frustrated, leaving a small mark on them that spread an iron taste in her mouth.

Doyle would pay for it. She would seek justice for you and wreak vengeance. When the one thing that kept her grounded gets yanked away so ruthlessly by someone she once loved, it was only in her nature to strike him down. That was something she was taught, something she has comforted herself with.

"I am sorry for causing you worry and suffering. But I will gladly give up my life if you keep breathing for it. There is not a day I regret with you, Emily. The only thing I regret is not telling you sooner how much I love you,"

You had to stop, a sea of tears welled up in your eyes. Only slowly did you realized how fleeting life and how powerful a human was. Especially in the hands of a psychopath.

It took a long time before you could pull yourself together and feel ready to continue talking. "You are the love of my life and every day I had to spend without you when you faked your death hurt so much. I love you more than my life, so much that I will sacrifice mine for it."

Frowning with concern, Jennifer stood next to her best friend, slowly leaning towards her and taking her hand firmly but tenderly in hers. Emily´s heart began to soar, dropping into the pit of her stomach while her eyes continued to fix on the screen as she tried to digest the latest information about your avowed love for her.

The black-haired woman leaned trustingly against the blonde and took a deep breath. She became dizzy and extremely nauseous while trying to hold back the tears that were coming. "I will find you, Y/n.." she muttered under her breath and JJ nodded carefully, understanding her sentence perfectly.

"I do not want the last of you to see me like this, but I am having a really hard time pulling myself together, uh.." your voice trembled as you smiled wryly, pulling yourself together as best you could. But no matter how hard you tried to smile for her, it just did not make it into your eyes. You stroked your long, brittle and tousled hair, that was plastered on your forehead and bare shoulders quickly, trying to put away the nervousness.

"Do not mourn for me too long, but briefly and intensely to live on afterwards. All I every wanted is for you to be happy. Even after my death. I will choose a cloud near you and always watch over you. And I hope that I will always live on in your heart."

You could hear footsteps getting closer to your position. Sobbing, you looked back at the camera with a lost and terrified look. A single tear, which was particularly noticeable because of it´s size and the light shining on it, ran down your cheek and wet the shirt that fell loosely from your body. "I love you, Em. I always did,"

You tried to position a sincere and wholeheartedly smile on your lips before you blew the camera a hand kiss and the video cut off, leaving the team without air in their lungs to breathe, collapsing in an emotional chaos they had never experienced before.

[ooops-i-arted]

ahsoka still calling anakin a 'good master' after everything he fucking did to her oh my god, ENOUGH!

cowboy hat man won't give it a rest. he wants to throw ahsoka in everything and have her ascend to glorified creator's pet status, but he still can't figure out how to feature her without making her whole worth and existence about anakin. a two year relationship that ended with the master nearly murdering his padawan gets to be highlighted repeatedly, as if it was the most emotionally resonant thing to ever happen to ahsoka and anakin. instead of literally any other relationship that could be explored more.

screw ahsoka's other relationships from the jedi temple or the clones. she can hang out with rebels characters who are reduced to hollow husks of themselves while she has the charisma of a plank. but let's remind everyone how special and awesome she is because anakin was assigned to her for a short time. ahsoka is almost fifty years old now, were the options really that limited? screw respecting anakin's kids who achieved their own legacies and played important roles in the rebellion, defying what he chose to become. luke and leia are barely present in these galactic events and it's rare for their names to be mentioned at all. and who the hell is padme at this point?

ahsoka's writing has been unimpressive for a while now and i haven't cared about her story beyond fandom osmosis. but her show probably isn't even servicing people who actually liked her from tcw anymore, it's about whatever caters to filoni's warped perception of these characters.

Not only is it egregious because we know Anakin is a child murderer, Ahsoka NEVER moves on or comes to terms with it! She just keeps wallowing in it so Filoni can wank off to Anakin licking Ahsoka's butthole. Also: two years. There's no way she's near as speshul to him as Padme (the woman he was in love with for 10+ years and his wife) or Obi-Wan (his Master who was like a brother to him, again for over a decade) or Shmi (his freakin' mother and likely his one point of stability in a chaotic childhood as a slave). Don't even tell me that if Anakin was dropped in the World Between Contrived Time Travel he would save Ahsoka over any of them lmao. Or drop her like a hot potato if he had to choose between Ahsoka and Luke, his son and the last remnant he has of Padme (her son), Obi-Wan (guarded and trained by), Shmi (her grandson) and pretty much the one person he was able to commit an act of true, unselfish love for (killing Palps).

I do feel bad for the fans since I've seen plenty of comments that it's "not her" and that RD's portrayal is just so flat and devoid of smirky smugness/cheekiness/whatever. I personally may hate it but it is part of her character. And you're right, why is it only people she isn't connected to? She barely knew the Rebels crew and mostly as Fulcrum, so a professional relationship, not a friendship. Not to mention Sabine being forced into a Jedi Padawan role despite NEVER showing Force sensitivity or any interest in being a Jedi, and she lived with two of them for years. She had plenty of opportunity to ask Kanan if she wanted to be trained! But nah, we gotta give Ahsoka a Padawan and throw in some forced girl power stuff on the side. (As a former little girl who deeply craved female representation in the male-dominated stories I loved, I can tell you, little girls can tell when it's forced.) (Also Sabine choosing to force herself into a Jedi role out of grief for missing Kanan and Ezra instead of actually being into it or confronting her feelings of loss could've been a really interesting character moment. But nah.)

Side note but I also find it interesting that Rex is barely in this show. Wasn't Rex Ahsoka's clone counterpart? They're very close friends? He's still alive and kicking and could help her out? That would be a really cool relationship to explore? Or did Filoni realize he can't whitewash a real Māori man the way he can animated clones?

(Also I saw this ask before bed and woke up thinking about Mara Jade and Jaina Solo, a female teacher-student relationship that was so badass, and now I want Mara Jade being Rey's teacher and helping her confront her relationship to Palpatine and Rey having the guidance of someone who Gets It, can you imagine. We could've had it alllllllll)

[mt-musings]

The Last Silverboughs

Halsin struggles to put his past to rest, but it's haunting him in more ways than he realizes. He'd thought his time in the Underdark was long behind him, an unpleasant pitfall of youthful hubris, but remnants of his captivity remain, the youngest of which unwittingly stumbles to his rescue.

Lythra can't stop running from her past--hasn't, since she managed to make it out of the Underdark. She has no love for Menzoberranzan, or her House, or anything she left behind in the dark. Or nearly anything.

Still, she'd rather die than return--a prospect all the more likely with a tadpole jammed behind her eye. But perhaps, with the help of a renown druidic healer, she can go back to what remains of her half-life in the sun.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11

Read on AO3

Lythra watched Astarion pointedly file his nails off to the side while their crew caught their breath. They’d managed to steal the barrel of runepowder along with a smaller vial, though not without a fight, and that wasn’t counting the one they’d had to reach her hiding spot. Course, they couldn’t take too much time to dally, considering Nere was suffocating in poison. 

She really would love to just leave him to it, but that would mean letting the duegar torture and kill the deep gnomes, and that just didn’t sit well with her. Still, Nere wasn’t popular, and they’s have at least some help riddling him with holes.

A pompous little drow wizard, just like Kel.

She still didn’t know if he’d lived, hadn’t decided if she wanted him to have. She hated him but—she didn’t know. Some part of her wondered if maybe he could be reasoned with, could learn not to be such an absolute asswipe. If he could only just be her brother and not her rival, not her tormentor. 

“So, I suppose Nere is next, then,” Gale said from where he sat leaning against one of the crumbling walls, drawing her from her thoughts.

“I still don’t understand why we’re breaking him out just to kill him. Seems like a waste of time, to be honest,” Astarion said without looking up from his nails.

“Because they’ll kill the gnomes, Fangs,” Karlach shot back.

“Why should we care about some stupid gnomes? It’s their fault they were dumb enough to get caught.”

“Think of it as an opportunity to try duegar blood,” Lythra replied. Astarion made a face.

“I bet it’s mostly beer. Ack! Disgusting.”

“We’ll have to be clever about it, considering the open pits of lava. Gale, we’ll need you for crowd control, Karlach, you’ll need to occupy the bruisers and Astarion—just find somewhere out of sight and start picking them off.”

“What about you, short sack?” Karlach asked.

“I’m going to blitz Nere. He’ll come out monologuing—it’s what they do, they can’t help it. So he comes out, orally masturbating at us and then BAM! Susy to the sternum,” she said, flipping the sussar dagger in her hand with a flourish. “Should fuck him up pretty badly and if he doesn’t die, then he’ll have to work through some…performance issues.”

“That is…certainly a way of phrasing that,” Gale said, shaking his head. 

“Well, we better be getting on with it, before he does suffocate,” she said, getting up.

“Here’s hoping!” Astarion replied, crossing both his fingers. Lythra just rolled her eyes as he jumped lightly to his feet, staring her down as he slipped her nail file into his pocket. 

He sauntered by, trailing his fingers across her cheek as he went.  Her heart fluttered in her chest and she looked away.

“Keep it in your pants, Fangs,” Karlach called after him, laughing. Lythra just took a breath, shaking her head. Gale gave her a look, one she didn’t care to decipher. 

She was too focused on the task at hand, with what may as well serve as the prelude to her reunion with Kelennar, once she returned to the Gate. 

~~~

“You positively reek of blood, my dear,” Astarion said, coming to stand by her side at the edge of the cavern where they’d pitched camp. She didn’t seem to hear him, or perhaps she was ignoring him, her gaze far away. He couldn’t help but notice the way her hands shook, even though they’d returned to camp nearly an hour ago.

She’d never been one to get up close and personal in a fight, much more comfortable striking foes down form the shadows. But this time—this time she’d rushed ahead with reckless abandon that had give even Karlach pause. He’d never seen her behave so viciously, something that he’d watched with a sick sort of delight at the time, though now the delight had faded to something he’d nearly call worry. 

Ridiculous, he thought to himself. Why should he worry, when she’d survived just fine? He should be elated, if anything, that his chosen ally had more skill than he’d known before, that she was still full of useful surprises. 

“Sweetness—“ he began, hoping to lead her back to camp, to where Shadowheart or Halsin could see to her obvious injuries. Instead she spat something out in what he assumed to be drow and set off into the blackness. He watched her go, disappearing too easily into the shadows of the cavern and shook his head. 

Sometimes he regretted allying himself to such an enigma. He still didn’t know why her blood seemed to thrum with such alluring darkness. As if they didn’t have enough secrets with Shadowheart’s mysterious artifact and Gale’s ticking magical time bomb in his chest. 

He turned back towards camp with a sigh. If she wanted to run off into the cavernous Underdark with nary a word, that was her prerogative, and he wasn’t about to tear off after her. 

“Where did the tiny one go?” Karlach asked as he returned, he just shrugged, rather than voicing his annoyance. After all, it hadn’t been the first time she’d run off since they’d begun their trek to the hidden path to Moonrise Towers. He caught Halsin staring at him as he dropped down next to the fire, judgement clear in the set of his brows before the druid set off in the direction Astarion had just come from. 

Off to play hero, he was sure. 

Maybe that’s what she wanted, someone to tear after her, to wheedle out whatever it was that had been eating at her since they’d begun their journey underground. He watched the druid disappear, an acidic note settling in his throat. 

Perhaps he should have been the one to follow—

No. To the hells with whatever wretched recklessness had possessed her, if she wanted him to know she would tell him, he wouldn’t lower himself to chasing and begging.

He’d leave that for the damn druid. 

He couldn’t deny the fact that it was clear the druid had taken an interest in his little morsel, that his eyes lingered longer than they should. He’d thought his interest would fade, once the veneer of rescuer wore off and he realized that she wasn’t nearly as heroic as he thought, but, if anything, he’d just inserted himself more. 

Still, he would lose. Astarion could hear her heart whenever he got close, could hear it thunder beneath her ribs at his mere proximity. It never did anything of the sort around the druid. 

And yet, she ignored him, ignored his every attempt at flirting and romance. She wanted him, he knew it, he could hear it, he could smell it, he could taste it when he drank from her, and yet she kept her distance.

She couldn’t still be sore with him for the party. 

He’d just been rude. He was always rude, and she usually laughed! And she’d just thrown him off, with the whole infernal-rune-revelation. 

Perhaps she thought this was punishing him. It would be a rather effective one, if his advances were driven by actual lust and not survival.

As it was, it was merely annoying. 

~~~

Halsin found Lythra not too far away, in a small hollow. She’d tucked herself in a corner, facing the entrance, though her eyes were far away. There was blood splattered up to her elbows, blood splattering across nearly every inch of her armor, which was worse for wear. Her eyes flicked up to his face as he approached, slowly and deliberately, like he would an injured animal. 

“Is something wrong, back at camp?” She asked, brows furrowed. 

“No. I just wanted to check on you. Gale said it was a trying battle. 

“It was fine. Duegar tried to double-cross us, but that’s practically expected, and we still got paid. Should only be another day or two before we ascend for the Shadowlands, just a few loose ends folks want to wrap up.” 

Halsin only half listened, stepping forward to gently take hold of her left arm. She winced slightly, though she tried to hide it. There was a great slash through the bicep of her armor, the wound still sluggishly bleeding. 

“I thought Shadowheart fixed you all up after you returned?”

“I’m fine. It’s nothing—“

“I’m a fairly good judge of what is fine to be left to heal naturally and what requires intervention,” he said, and pushed up her sleeve. She was so young and stubborn—it made his heart ache. 

It would cost her, if left unchecked. It had certainly cost him.

He froze, staring at the mess of bruises and lacerations that covered her skin—weeks worth, in various stages of healing, though none as far along as they should be. 

“These wounds—they should have healed weeks ago,” Halsin said, glancing up to try and catch her eyes, though she expertly avoided his piercing stare. The lacerations still oozed, grit mashed into seemingly every one. He ran a thumb over a particularly deep one on her arm, carefully prying away the dirt—it was hot to the touch, clearly infected. She yanked her arm away.

“Little one—“

“Don’t, Halsin.”

“I will not be silent on this.”

“You know nothing of it.”

“Then enlighten me, child,” he replied, voice rumbling with a barely repressed rage. Rage that she would allow herself to suffer so, that she wouldn’t come to him when she’d been hurt. Her lip trembled, even as she glared back. Then she looked away without saying anything. 

“These need to be washed out and treated. Now.”

“I don’t—“

“This is not a discussion any longer. Stay here, and I will see that you don’t collapse from sepsis before we even reach Moonrise.”

He stalked off to grab his healing kit, trying to repress the anger roiling in his chest. He wasn’t angry at her, after all, not really, not when her behavior spoke so clearly of something larger going on, something terrible afflicted on her. Still, if only she would take hold of the hand he was so desperately holding out to her, if she would allow herself the barest of care—

“The armor needs to come off. Now. I won’t ask again.” 

She stared at him for a long moment before complying, though she struggled to lift her left arm high enough to undo the buckles. He sighed before undoing them himself, pulling off her shredded clothes until she was left in nothing more than blood splattered small clothes and he could finally see the extent of what she’d been hiding.

It was the most skin Halsin had ever seen her bear and it made him pause, not for the fact that she was close to naked, but for the scars that covered every inch of her newly revealed skin. They were vicious things, though the majority didn’t look like injuries gained while fighting, instead seeming almost surgical in nature. 

Certainly the thickest ones on her chest that looked to be the Y of an autopsy incision.

Her ribs were covered in black bruises, a bite on her shoulder infected and weeping puss. The cuts on her arms were truly the least of it all, the wounds that had demanded treatment crudely sewn together. 

“Silvanus, give me strength,” he said, waving his hand over a clean bowl and filling it with fresh water. He began carefully cleaning each of the wounds before healing them in silence, jaw clenched. 

She flinched every time he healed her, every muscle in her body taught. 

It was a while before he looked up to find her eyes firmly shut, tears dripping silently down her cheeks. 

“I hate it down here,” she said finally, in barely a whisper. 

“Then why are you inflicting another misery on yourself?”

She didn’t answer, though her face crumpled. He sighed, smoothing her hair back from her face. He handed her a fresh shirt from the trunk which he knew would be far too big, but was clean and comfortable, and passed her his waterskin. She took a few sips, furiously wiping away the tears on her face. 

“I’m sorry,” she said, barely more than a whisper as she handed it back. 

“I know. Go get some sleep. I’ll wake you for supper.”

“I’m fine, I don’t—“

“You need rest. We need you at your best if we’re to make it to Moonrise, and for that you need to sleep.”

Halsin expected her to argue more, but instead she just nodded, hanging her head, returning wordlessly back to camp. 

~~~

He found her curled up later, at the farthest end of camp, away from all the others, using her backpack as a pillow and covered in only a thin blanket. He had an extra, in his tent, warm and woolen. He went back to retrieve it, setting it next to her before he sat crosslegged next to her. 

She was the only one of their number that didn’t have a tent.

He woke her gently, handing her a bowl of hearty stew. She blearily took it, thanking him while avoiding his gaze. 

“How are you feeling?” He asked, noting the small amount of color that seemed to return to her cheeks with a few hours of sleep and a bit of food. She nodded, keeping her eyes glued to the bowl.

“Better. Thank you.”

“You must tell me, when you are hurt. I know it is…a liability, in the Underdark, to admit pain, or ill. But it is more dangerous to allow yourself to allow yourself to be weakened by your injuries and not tell anyone when you need aid.”

Lythra seemed to shrink back, eyes still glued on her meal, though she’d stopped eating it when he spoke. Her shoulders curved inward, back hunched, almost as if she were expecting a blow. 

“I need you to tell me when you are hurt. I know that you are not used to relying on others, and I am not trying to treat you as a child.”

“But I am acting as one. That is what you are trying to say but not, right? That this sort of petulance is reserved for children.”

Halsin huffed a laugh, despite himself. “I believe this to be something more than simple juvenile petulance, and I am an ear, should you wish to talk about it. I understand what it is like to be alone, as a youngling. I lost my own family long ago, when I had not yet reached my first century.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, the words simple, but they carried a weight of understanding, a weight matched behind her eyes as she finally looked up at him, if only for a second. He gave her a small smile. 

“It has been a long time. Still, should you wish for counsel—I am not looking to undermine, only aid.”

She nodded. “I—I appreciate your kindness. And—and your insistence. I…dislike magical healing. But—but you are right. It is not tactically sound to allow myself to fight at such a disadvantage. I—thank you.”

Halsin furrowed his brow at her stilted apology. It was genuine enough, but she’d been overly specific in which words she chose.

Not that he expected one stern talking-to to fix what was clearly a lifetime’s worth of cruelty and conditioning. To inflict such suffering on a child—his insides boiled at the thought. 

“How—how does your shoulder feel?” He asked, tempering his fury so as not to scare her. She rolled it, making a face.

“Stiff. It’s fine though.”

“There’s scar tissue that needs to be broken up. It won’t be pleasant, but it will help. It’d be best to wait a few days, though.”

She just nodded, dropping her eyes to the ground once more. He reached out despite himself and laid his hand on her cheek. 

“I can make you a draft, for tonight, for dreamless sleep, if you’d like.”

She nodded without looking at him. He took a deep breath before standing and making his way back to his tent. He caught Scratch as he bounded around, chasing after Lotha. 

“Friend!” he greeted, tongue lolling out to the side. Halsin reached down to pet him.

“Lythra could use some time with her furry friends tonight, I think.”

“Is she alright?”

“She will be. But perhaps a cuddle will help.”

“I’ll tell Lotha,” Scratch said, bounding away. Halsin smiled before turning to make the draft.

“So, how is our fearless leader? Better, after your vigorous tending?” Astarion asked, sidling up near-silently to peer at what he was doing. Halsin ignored his salacious tone. He was very obviously looking for a rise out of him because he saw him as a rival to whatever machinations he’d set on Lythra. 

“She is,” he said mildly, watching Astarion’s eyes narrow slightly before he forced a smile. 

“Well, that’s good to hear. Can’t have the poor thing collapsing in the Grymforge.”

“Certainly not,” he said, turning back to his work. Astarion stared, jaw tight. 

“Did you need anything else?”Halsin asked pleasantly. Astarion just gave him a dirty look.

“Certainly not,” he spat and turned on his heel. Halsin sighed and finished the draft. He brought it to Lythra, smiling at the sight of Scratch and Lotha curled next to her. 

“Thank you,” she said, accepting the cup. 

“Of course,” he said, watching as she drank it in an impressive two gulps. She paused, before handing him back the cup.

“It’s sweet.”

“I added a bit of honey to cut down the bitterness.”

“And it really—I won’t dream?” She asked. He shook his head. 

“It’ll work in a half hour or so. Do you wish for me to stay until you fall asleep?”

“You don’t have to.”

“I know. But I will, if you wish. It is not an imposition.”

“If—if you don’t mind.”

“I wouldn’t have suggested it if I did, little one.”

He stayed with her, until her eyelids fluttered shut, telling her stories about the animals in the Grove, or ones he’d met on his travels. She’d been very interested to hear about the giant ice spiders he’d met in his youth, eyes lighting up with wonder when he spoke of them being as large as a horse. 

He stayed a while after, running his hand through Scratch’s fur as she slept, her brow uncreased for the first time since he’d met her. He unfolded the wool blanket before he left, making she she was tucked in and warm. She pulled the blanket closer in her sleep pressing her face to Scratch’s fur. 

He left her in the care of her furry friends, still reeling about just how much—and how little—he’d learned about the young woman who’d saved him. 

[plasticfangtastic]

Can We be Lonely together? Epilogue

a Homelander x Stalker! Reader fanfic

This is a GN reader reader fic

Author's note: too self indulgent not to write an epilogue, thanks for reading and am looking forward to making more fics for this fandom, this is Bi Homelander content if y'all read this as fem or non male reader. prev. chapters in my blog under the my fic tag or can we be lonely together? tag will be making a masterlist fairly soon tho.

R18+ mild smut, exhibitionism kink, gore, murder, dub con, dirty talk, surprise butchlander, butcher x reader, 3-way?, amoral protagonist, unreality.

Epilogue

Breeze sang in the ample halls bringing whispers from the balearic sea, a top the mountain overseeing endless azure, greens and neighborhood roofs the world seemed so far away to him.

So many absent walls in this villa, the house was airy and open, blurring the idea of inside and outside with is design.

Cream coloured linen danced against the wind to the seas secret songs, the sun leaving no corner in the shadows, sandy granite warm under the sun, evergreens could be seen from all windows, cascades of green coloured the view, and a pair of cats slept in a guest room.

There was not a sight disturbed by ugly grey buildings, just mountains and sea– left him feeling as Zeus on the top of mount Olympus, inside the airy home only the dull sound of oak ceiling fans pushing the breeze disturbed the halls.

No longer did the steps of strangers disturbed the dull accismus of this temple by the hill, camera crews left most of the home untouched, it had been a busy and exhausting week for Homelander.

Walls had been sparsely decorated, remnants of a past life clung on smooth oatmeal walls and indigo blue wood beecher paneling accentuating one living room of three-- paintings he had grown attached to and the occasional marble statue laid around, but now there were photos of a man one could hardly recognize.

With each new image, time had eroded wounds off his face, there was a glimmer on his features that had never resided there.

Garden pots had been shuffled around for the perfect frame, now he would've had to move them much to his annoyance.

It was the most anticipated interview of the decade, it had gone smoothly, Oprah had been delightful, manly tears had been shed and hair raising stories were shared, she had found him approachable above all.

After a year of silence the whole world was kept on edge awaiting for his return.

The trial hadn’t even televised but they were plenty of updates by the hour circling around-- more than sufficient. Now he had a full schedule, he was to be in the cover of GQ magazine, had some big podcasts lined up for an appearance, and Vogue to model for… it would be so strange to do without his suit.

Homelander sat with his legs dipping into one of his infinity pools, his loosely fitted honeycomb shirt draped around his shoulders like a poor’s man cape, his hair had grown a tad longer, salty seas had turned his flaxen locks almost wavy and a dark thick stubble began adorning his face.

His tablet resting behind him buzzing with a new email, the wrinkles around his eyes sank as he squinted from the blinding wet mirror, distracting enough that your step barely registered.

“You looked quite handsome in the suit this morning…” You spoke gently– I think the people are gonna love your new look… between the tan and the beard you look… sumptuous.” 

“I should’ve shaved. They’ll think I look like a complete slob! I bet they’ll say I let myself go.”

You joined him by the pool as the hot Mediterranean sun stood above you, pulling his head closer to yours for a flurry of butterfly kisses.

“You look stunning, mi sol. Either way… lunch is ready… Ryan called and said him and Jaythaniel’s family just made it to Disneyland, don’t forget to pick him up tonite.” You said softly squeezing his thigh–  he said he’ll call after lunch.” 

He nodded absentmindedly.

“You don’t think Theodore is going to wake up?”

Worry clung to his tongue, his ears picking up the soft lull of his son’s snoring, Blender making biscuits on his sides but the child slept deeply, you could tell he had entered deep REM stage, you shook your head much to John’s relief.

“I can’t believe we are doing this… you spoil us too much.” He kissed your ear before lifting himself and dropping into the pool.

The sun sparkled harshly against the glass tiles, the sky more blue from below, your sinuous reflection watching him until he emerged, the tired breeze doing very little to dry him, you followed him giddy as his wet footprints led you to the wine cellar.

 It had been an expensive endeavor to have all of this installed… several 3x3 plastic acrylic panels of 32 mm thickness, a high tech locking mechanism plus humidity and temperature control systems had to be installed independently of a good enough contractor who could reinforce the flooring with a steel mesh and coat the cement flooring with resin just to make it impossible for their friends to dig, there had been many logistical nightmares from finding the right contractors to finding a spot for it, it was easy to sell the strange boxes as a sex thing– blaming having super-abled kids increasingly longer list of powers that made it hard for dear ol’ daddy to get off… especially when the word ‘soundproofing’ had been mentioned, or his super strengths which led to some nasty laughs and a bit of murder later down the track, the last thing that mattered had been costs.

No amount of sound ever escaped the wine cellar, the zinc plates coating the walls prevented Ryan and himself from seeing in or out, Theodore was young enough to listen to instructions, if not it was your turn to discipline the toddler.

Opening that door was always a surprise, bringing him almost as much joy as that first christmas day as a complete family.

As they took the stairs he could smell mullet wine and lebkuchen– the tension in his muscles still fresh as he entered a home that had only existed in childish fantasies, awkwardness that never seemed the fade as the strangers hounded him with questions, but he had had you, Ryan and now Theodore for much needed emotional support, it had been almost perfect as it had been intense, it had been strange to hear all these stories of a woman he had murdered, who had only suffered, it was stranger how her only sister had not blame him for the nature of his birth, still grateful that he had found her even if it took forty years, grateful that something more than a pristine corpse was left behind.

Her body refusing to decay inside that pine box.

The cellar door beeps, and cogs turn inside the heavy metal door, fluorescent lights sung awake by the entrance, bringing much needed light to the dark sub-basement, only the three small lights inside the boxes lighten the area for most of the day.

A woman shuddered, flinching as more light hit her eyes, hiding beneath the bolted desk, you walked past Homelander carrying today's menu, there was something enjoyable about the challenge of creating an ever changing menu that was nutritionally balance, delicious and required no cutlery. The disheveled woman approached eagerly at the floating box, awaiting for you to place her meal, intentionally keeping her starved, this had been his decision for this particular guest-- to see if she would go mad. Due to the lack of windows she had no concept of time after all while the lights were on a timer, they were programmed to be irregular enough to cause confusion. To visit at random intervals and feed her whenever he remembered.

Homelander and John wanted to watch her scoof down her meal, to see her choke and tear up as she filled her cheeks and swallowed greedily– but their attention was reserved for guest number two.

“If I knew I had you getting all wet and bothered for daddy, I would’ve worn something nicer” His voice dry, barely lifting his head from the bed.

Homelander helps himself to the mini bar cracking open some pale ale for the world’s largest paper cup, humming a tune as he prepped today's round of meds while you set his meal.

“Got you pale ale… unless you’d like some peach bellinis?” 

Homelander opened the cabinets, rows of neatly organized sex toys, booze and cleaning supplies were displayed– sex toys solely for decor, you both had committed to the bit, much of these had never been used nor did he want to, you had no need for vibrators when his hands did the job so perfectly. He took out a cattle prod, then pressed a code unto a small hidden panel making sure the guest couldn’t peek.

The inner latches came apart, the door hissed open.

There was no need to consider escaping, it was futile, the door upstairs was thicker than the glass, and no amount of yelling got anybody’s attention-- but he didn’t try killing himself either, for the last time he’d tried he had been here in no time, he had a chip monitoring his vitals at all times, and the camera on top of his room watched over him.

You also helped in that department.

Homelander entered first, you placed the food on the floor for Homelander to give Butcher his back.

Almost encouraging him to jump him.

“Would it kill you to wear pants?”

Homelander chuckled as he turned around with Butcher’s meal, wearing nothing but his wet shirt clinging to him tighter than his suit ever did, and black briefs.

“Would it kill you to agree to my offer?”

“Not going to play house with you, stupid cunt.”

Butcher didn’t argue with the meal, taking the food off his hand and sitting by the bolted table, the chair also bolted which made for an awkward fit.

“You got three months left William… these meds might get you one more… it's already been weeks… you want to spend the rest of your days here watching her starve to death or you want to be with Ryan? He wishes to see you. Be there for him… you just have to be with us.”

Butcher bared his teeth, mutterign curses under his breath as he gave him his back.

You entered the room taking the cattle prod  tucked under his arm, Butcher ate ignoring him, throwing the tray towards his face, forever amused as to how he never bothered to dodge it, John rolling his eyes as the plastic dropped around him.

“I’m being generous after what you did to Dolores… that was… well… you lived up to your name.” 

“Said I’ll get even.” 

He had made Dolores into the antithesis of her craft, it had stung, to witness her unrecognizable being-- a DNA test confirming its identity. Close casket was the only choice.

Homelander watched him eat as you prepared yourself, undressing in the corner, fresh bruises adorning your thighs, handprints where he had held you solidly against his mouth.

Closing the door behind, locking Homelander and Butcher inside one box, giddy he jumped into the thin futon.

“Here I thought we were having the world’s most disappointing threesome… all thirteen seconds of it.”

He took a sip of the ale, it was utterly delicious but he wouldn’t let Homelander hear it from his mouth, this his only joy while stuck in this box. He turned to you watching as you opened the door on guest number 1, then back at Homelander already squeezing himself, a wet suther escaped his lips as your nude frame approached her, Butcher buried his brow.

You had ignored her for weeks, fed her irregularly while feeding Butcher on schedule. She survived on saltines and peanut butter, only receiving proper meals on the occasion but never did either of you touched her, or spoke to her.

She squealed as the tip hit her breast, too weak to do more than just scream, he had been so distracted by Homelander he hadn’t noticed the crowbar by the entrance… he could’ve sworn it was his own.

“Families should always have a mommy and a daddy… grandpa and grandma… cousins… but I don’t have any uncles… nor does Ryan have uncles… ahhh” he tugged harder hand fondling the dripping tip of his hardened member– just like that pumpkin.”

His skin crawled at the sight of the awoken thick member as he pulled it out his tight underwear, with a wet snap.

He turned to you, watching her face split red as you smacked her face with the cattle prod, she clutched at her cheek, blood spilling from the sides of her fingers, a distressed mess tried escaping you. You grinned as you felt Homelander excitement, his chest flushed as you gave a parry of messy heavy swings, she cried and as she covered her face you shocked her hands off until your eyes met, turning limp while Butcher’s heart accelerated, craning her neck, she opened her mouth leaving it frozen mid-air as you took to the crowbar.

“Pick a number of teeth … or Pusher will take the whole jaw” he whispered as he laid long languid strokes on his cock, rubbing his thumb on the glistening tip– or you can say yes”

A curved tip pressed right behind her upper chompers.

“One…?” You muttered– that’s not going to excite you right, mi sol?” 

Homelander pouted, slowing down his hand, focusing on the base with short lived pumps.

“Break her jaw– let’s see how long she’ll last before she starves to death… she might dehydrate first, no?” He scoots patting the empty spot on the bed encouraging Butcher to join him— make it clean babe.”

You take the tip out her mouth and get in position to tap her jaw.

“We’ll visit in a week… hope you last my dear William.”

Butcher stood up, still with enough energy in him to fight, he might be dulled by the meds, exhaustion and his captor's cruel tactic.

“Kill her you wanker just bring some fucking fabreeze.”

You grinned mockingly, breaking more than her jaw, her body thud and her voice returned smashing her skull repeatedly caving into a pancake. Homelander groaned, edging himself as your vicious attacks drew your victim closer and closer to death, legs moving on their own, pressing his forehead against the wall, the sight of your bloody torso didn’t just titillate him, he craved the sight, knowing the glass stood between you two, knowing how far away you were and just how untouchable you were was better than any x-rated video, your ragged panting, the sweet sweat falling from the tip of your chin, blood specs bejeweled your body, was too much.

You had become more than he had ever imagined, you pressed your behind against the bloodied wall as you caught your breath.

Butcher could only try to ignore your sick kinks.

Homelander will bring as many innocent people he could and make him take part of their scenes, he whined as you got out the cage, walking painfully slow towards his– ignoring him in favor of the minibar, his hand stopped with a sneer, turning to see that Butcher had skulled down the last of his ale.

“You know he’s being nice asking you… I could just make you say yes…”

Butcher looked back at the mass, almost flinching as the woman was back on her feet, her face a torn mess but there she was still eating the last morsels of the chunky yiros with her torn jaws, for every bit of garlic sauce that dripped down her hands there was an equal amount of chunky blood spilling unto the ground.

Deepthroating the yiros more than eating it.

Her face just hanging by red ribbons, one eye swollen and bulging while the other just hung out of her socket, clumps of broken scalp swinging with the weight of her once straight hair, now dirty and matted.

She turned to see him sensing she had been watched and her face had no bruises.

He looked back at Homelander then back at the corpse now immobile, rotting, fluids escaping its bloated body, gangrenous pus seeping thru its sunken eyes while the skin darkened and dried, now his nose picked up on the revulsion, he looked at his drink and figure out that there was no drug in him– Homelander was back in his bed, his cock tucked in and not a sight that he had moved once, his toothy grin more real than the full cup fizzing in his hand, your breath warming Butcher’s ear.

Months, weeks, days, hours… he had no clue how long he actually been here, this was an illusion… some of it… tragically you two were disgustingly real.

“You want to break me into compliance?”

The white glow of your eyes not as menacing as Homelander's lasers, he took a short sip of his beer letting it dry his tongue, feeling the warm building in his stomach.

Hot fingers creep from around his hips, exploring the softened torso, he is still strong and firm under the weakened body, the illness making it hard to maintain his shape, hot water dampened his shirt, nails bruising trails as he trapped him, pressed tight against the leaner man, craning his neck to place his chin on the older man’s shoulder– no doubt floating to do so.

Before he could protest further, before he could do more than curse under his breath and wriggle, your teeth met the underside of his chin.

Intertwining your hands with his free one, no doubt he could snap your wrist but a little red light shone next to his head, telling it wouldn't be a good idea.

Homelander closed his iron grip around Butcher’s neck, leaving him gasping, feeling his pipe collapse slightly.

Your tongue licked his neck, your touch more gentle, more tender but to his shock Homelander only purred, you both stared at each other lovingly, Butcher’s neck nothing but a barrier between you two, you climbed to meet his lips, while your loved was manhandling Butcher lower so Homelander could give you wet, loud and messy kisses.

Arching him much to his displeasure, the beer spilling down his arm.

Squeezing harder on his neck, Homelander eyes are coloured a pretty dark pink, he grunts pressing Butcher into him, begging for friction.

You two kissed the older man missing his lips, feeling him shudder, kissing the blanket of goosebumps all over his body.

You loved him more than anything.

You would make him happy in all the ways that your body could.

And sometimes things are easier to do when he just communicated them, usually that would involve murder but now it was this.

Butcher had no idea what he had to say yes to. what exactly you two wanted out of him, and he had yet to spot the hidden vial of V in the cabinet.

John giggled as Butcher's hateful glare tried to burn him.

“Is okay… you’ll be the one fucking me…” he needily purrs– right, pumpkin?”

“Just let all that hatred out… make him cry…” you whispered into Butcher’s ear– make him your bitch.”

It had been his own mind that picture the blonde’s cock, that had been his own worst nightmare, but as he felt those needy kisses– be it the beer on an empty stomach, your powers or the tumor pressing on the smart sections of his brain he chortle at the thought, straining his neck to see the desperate flush on the blonde, his grip loosening, allowing him to turn just enough.

This could also be a part of this illusion.

“You just wanted to be daddy’s cute little slut?” he spat– my cum dump?”

Homelander let out the most obscene moan from within the depths of his core, you felt the heat rising from your own loins as you heard him.

Butcher tugged at your scalp, yanking you away from him.

“Both of you are such weird needy bitches… is okay… I’ll make you both into my good little whores.”

Breathy moans, both men eager to see this new game of yours play out, you would make him happy, please him, take care of all his needs… it was easier when you also felt just a tenth of that spark the first time you met William.

Unlike the last ones before these brother’s you would never grow out of love… you had so much to give after all… and he had so much to give you still.

What a bad thing you two were.