#below deck on land

[typeandcompany]

Vanderpump Villa, 2024

This is perfect TV for right now.

[pyrepostings]

Prodigal Son

Free Birds and Fiddlers

cw: referenced past events of the story, including character death and abuse. Polite discussion of Christianity (specifically the story referenced by this chapter's title), mild implied homophobia that gets checked

~~~

Kevin settled himself on the starboard side deck, bringing his knees as close to his chin as he could without losing his balance to the waves, and holding his staff in hand for further aid in not tipping over. He tugged at his hair with his free hand.

The others were port side as far as he knew, likely going below now they were surrounded by water, and would be for some time. While he had agreed to come back to Paradis, he wasn't going to voluntarily be be brought below deck again for anything.

It wasn't long before Julian came around the corner, with two bowls of food in hand. Kevin smirked slightly as the otherwise very dignified man had not quite the sea legs of a sailor, at least Kevin had an excuse for poor balance.

"Do you mind if I join you? I brought lunch."

Kevin nodded, forcing out a "yeah" and re-positioned himself so he could wedge his staff between himself and the wall and took the offered bowl.

Lunch was some kind of cured ham, sauced and seasoned, with bread on the side. They ate in silence, washing it down with a thermos-full of tea. It was an uncomfortable silence, Kevin knowing there was much that still needed to be said, and knowing there was much Julian wanted to say but was afraid of Kevin reacting poorly so soon after the tentative peace was struck.

Kevin figured there were things for him to say too, sooner or later, and so broke it himself.

"I want you to know, Julian, that I'm sorry for hurting you. I shouldn't have. I just... I just didn't know what else to do at the time."

Kevin didn't look at the other man, but he felt him shift to look at him.

"I also want you to know. When we get back, I'll accept whatever punishment you decide for me. Just. Please don't tie me up again. Please." Kevin hid his head in his arms, breathing heavier than he was expecting to at that confession.

Julian was silent for a moment. "I meant what I said, when I told you there wouldn't be a punishment. You have to follow the terms of parole you agreed to, but I'm not going to hurt you. I promise."

"I know that's what you said but you couldn't have meant it. I know you were just saying that so I wouldn't hurt you more."

"Kevin, I meant it completely. All you have to do is ask to come back and you would be welcomed back with open arms. And you have asked. And so you will be welcomed back. I don't punish for the sake of punishment."

"But I hurt you. I killed Minstrel."

"And I really wish you hadn't. But- you've been punished enough. You weren't in your right mind. Hurting you more wouldn't bring him back, and you choosing to come back is like reviving you from the dead anyhow. I just want you to feel safe again. Why would I push you away now?"

Kevin stared off at the waves before replying. "Is everyone else going to feel that way?"

"I specifically ordered him not to go after you. Both times, in fact. But it was his choice to defy them. And you had made your intentions clear to him after the first. I won't say you were in the right either, but he knew what you were prepared to do, and he went of his own free will anyway. That is the truth, and that is what I will say to anyone who gives you trouble."

"Are you going to make me swear loyalty to you, commander?"

"Mm, I would like it if you did. But I can hardly force you. Either way you would be under my protection. Besides, you already swore loyalty to Elsa all those years ago. No one could argue you haven't served at least a few good years to us. Earned the right to still wear our crest, if you chose to."

"hm. And technically I swore first to Ezran anyway. I renewed my vows to Elsa."

"Exactly, see? You're one of the old guard."

Kevin did feel relaxed by his words, if only slightly. He seemed sincere. He leaned back against the wall behind him and closed his eyes against the sun.

"But I've been gone for so long. Will anyone actually remember that? Or just the crimes I've done?"

"I'll make sure to remind them if they ever forget."

"Thank you, Julian."

The time and silence stretched between them, gently rocked by the waves until Julian spoke again.

"There's something I wanted to ask you, if it's alright?"

"What is it?"

Julian pulled out a file of papers. "I'm sure you know, but part of the agreement to have you released back to us included giving me a copy of your file. Every conversation you had in custody, every note of your actions and whereabouts, of the trial."

"Alright?"

"Would it be ok with you if I read it?"

Kevin huffed. "As if anything in there is a secret?"

"I know, I just wanted to be clear with you. If you don't want me to read it, or any specific part, I won't. I'll throw the whole file overboard right now if you sincerely ask me to."

Kevin arched an eyebrow. "I don't think you'd actually do that. But if you wish to read it, and would truly follow my wishes, you may. I just want you to know... a lot of that- I'm not proud of what you'll find in there."

"I know. That's why I asked."

A particularly turbulent wave sent Kevin off balance, forcing him to extend a hand, and sending a slight shock of pain from where he instinctively extended and put pressure on his wounded leg. He felt a touch at his shoulder which quickly retreated.

"Sorry."

"It's fine. Thanks."

Kevin adjusted slightly, not wishing to fall off balance again but also trying to wrap himself against the cold sea wind as much as possible without the thick woolen cloak he had stubbornly refused. He could feel Julian's eyes on him.

"What?"

"It's just- do you want help?"

Was there an air of smug amusement in that voice?

"No I'm fine."

"You look cold, is all. We can go below deck to get out of the wind-"

"No! No. I'm fine, I don't need to go below deck." Even as he spoke, he could feel the chill setting into his bones in a way he knew he would soon regret not finding a way to ward off the wind.

Julian hummed, clearly not convinced but also having learned his lesson about pressing Kevin about things that weren't an immediate danger to his life. Kevin did notice how Julian let his own cloak open. An invite? It was clearly intentional, from the way he shifted to allow more of the fabric to the side where Kevin sat. He wasn't being slick at all.

Kevin rolled his eyes. "What are you doing?"

"You know, we have these lovely cloaks, handcrafted and specifically designed to protect against the cold which comes with being outside, and not up to much strenuous activity."

Kevin suppressed a smirk, suddenly enjoying the game they were now playing. "I know, I used to wear one. Yours seems to have fallen, right- ah right there."

"Hm, so it has. I barely noticed. That probably means I don't really need it right now. Would you like to borrow it?"

Oh, he thinks he's so cool. Unfortunately Kevin had already decided he wasn't going to wear one of those anymore. "I don't need the whole thing, just a corner, I think." He slid a bit closer to Julian, letting their shoulders touch. "If that's ok."

Julian nodded. "I didn't think you'd want to be this close to me."

"Don't get me wrong. We're not there yet. But- I do miss you. I miss what we used to have. And I am cold."

"Mhm. Alright." Julian threw the side of the cloak over Kevin's opposite shoulder as he snuggled in, pressing his entire side of his body up to Julian's, and tucked a few fingers under his flight harness for security against the rolling waves. He felt Julian shift in a way that seemed to be checking to make sure Kevin wasn't snatching anything off of said harness, but then relaxed back into him.

He was warm. And the way Julian stroked his hair, like he used to, sent a different kind of shiver down his spine.

It was comfortable. Sans the hard wooden floor, and the rocking of the boat, and the gulls cawing-

Kevin pressed his face into Julian's shoulder and neck, just above the collarbone. Why did he ever leave? He could have had this the whole time.

With Julian's hand in his hair, and his own fingers entwined in the other man's harness, mooring him in place, he let himself drift off.

~

Julian couldn't be 100% sure Kevin wasn't trying to play him, but if he really did still hate him for what happened, he never had to agree to come back.

Kevin had a long way to go. It was true many of his old comrades turned against him when he had initially lashed out, and most of the rest when news was brought that Minstrel was dead by his hands. And that wasn't to speak of Kevin's personal journey in his own head. Julian knew by now what false peace looks like, how quickly a riptide can pull one under.

But he was hanging on, now. He would have more people than just Julian looking out for him specifically, a whole net this time. People that Kevin helped many years ago. People who were hurt in very similar ways, and maybe that would help more than Julian ever could have done the first try.

For now he smiled at the barely audible snores that started from Kevin. He opened the file still on his lap.

~

Eventually, Quinn came around the corner.

"Oh, sorry, I don't mean to intrude. I just wanted some air."

"It's fine. I was just doing some reading." Julian was suddenly very aware of his hand still in Kevin's hair at his shoulder. Aware because Quinn made no secret with the way he looked at him that was what he was referring to.

"He was cold."

"It's warmer, and dryer, inside you know."

"And stuffier, so you've mentioned."

"Eh, true." Quinn leaned against the guardrail. "I guess I just didn't realize, how involved you two were."

Julian quirked an eyebrow. "And what do you mean by that?"

"Nothing! Just that you didn't let on. You've been awfully reserved with that information, before last night I never would have suspected-"

"Allow me to interject, officer. Neither you, nor your crown, is entitled to know every last detail of our relationship. I will state plainly that I plan to uphold the deal I made with your government for his relative freedom, and any involvement with him will not hinder that.

"In addition, while you are coming along to keep his parole, the laws of Paradis are slightly different to those of your home. Not everything outlawed there is outlawed here. Not everything you know to be a sin is considered as such here."

His tone was hard, but diplomatic.

"Right, right, I'm sorry. Commander, I didn't mean it like that."

"Mhm, of course."

Kevin stirred beside him but made no indication he heard anything. Julian rubbed his head softly to coax him back to sleep.

"I guess I just didn't realize until now why you intervened for him."

"I didn't pull him out of a life of incarceration because I'm romantically involved with him, if that's the point you're trying to make."

"So why did you? You broke the policy of isolationism to fight the courts for extradition. For one man."

Julian watched Kevin's face as he rubbed his thumb gently along his scalp. "I've never been Christian, but a long time ago, he taught me some of the stories from the bible. I imagine you're Anglican?"

"Yes, why?"

"Do the stories change much between denominations?"

"Depends. Exact wordings change depending on the exact translation, but the overall stories and messages should stay the same between, say, the king James version and the catholic one."

"Then you should know the one about the son who goes off into the world, squandering all of his father's money. When the famine comes and the son has nowhere to go lest he starve and perish to the elements, he returns home, groveling to his father's feet, not believing he would ever be worthy of forgiveness.

"Instead, he is immediately forgiven. A feast is held in his honor. The father is just glad his son came home.

"Are there truly no obvious parallels here? He asked for help, to return to my side, so of course I would fight for him."

"Well I suppose, when you put it like that."

And at Julian's side, Kevin curled almost imperceptibly closer.

Masterlist

[myceliumbean]

Surprised to find out that B-52 has been im service for more than 70 years, and may as well staying and celebrate its 100 years ceremony

Its actually beautiful, with a wide wingspan and quite a long length, like the B-52 is flying so effortlessly

Which is, according to the crazy almost-sea-surface-level flying photos beside aircraft carrier, pretty much ture, I guess

And that one last scene of that youtube vedio caught me off guard

A B-52, in its military grey paint, makes a turn on the runway and the sunlight happens to shine for a mere second on the cockpit window

Like a wink toward the camara

Yeah, I know I'm too humanizing these weapons that were made just to kill as much as it can and post a threat to its enemies, but all that effort pour into making them took to the sky and survived in battles are just…

Can't describe the feeling in words at all

That effort is what makes these things so beautiful. Deadly, for sure, but still so fascinating and remarkable

[gravegoer]

i humbly suggest pirate sevika in small letters

thank you for your service

Sail the Seven Seas ☠︎︎

i had this in the works ! you read my mind, we have cowboy sevika, but we absolutely need pirate sevika, i did a little "how you met" before the hcs ! also ill greatfully take any other requests for pirate sevika i love her sm (i hope you appreciate the pirate hat i edited on her lol)

She found you when her crew was raiding a ship, you were kept prisoner in the dark dungeons below deck after the pirates robbed a bar.

Sevika was inclined to leave you there, as she was in a rush. But your pleading eyes convinced her.

She told you to back up and pulled the flimsy metal door right off the hinges. Your only experience with pirates was your former kidnappers.

They were ruthless and had not a care in the world. They were greedy enough to pat you down even though you cried and insisted you had no form of money on you other than the jewelry they had ripped from your limbs.

But after she ripped the door off, she simply walked away, not sparing you a second glance. She set you free, but now what? Were you supposed to swim to land?

You hesitated before running up the old wooden stairs, the faint moonlight beamed on your face. It smelled fresh on deck, no longer having the musky odor of mold and wood filling your nose.

You were also greeted with the sight of the woman that freed you, her back facing you and pointing to crew members, yelling orders. She must be the captain, signified by her detailed hat and especially the way the crew listened to her.

People scurried under her gaze almost cowardly. Boxes were being hauled onto a much bigger ship (which you assumed was hers) over a wooden plank.

She was tall and obviously built. You could tell even though she was adorned with many layers, straps, and belts accentuated her curves and edges. She had a metal prosthetic that looked dangerous. Not only that, but a gun and two swords hung from her waist.

You approached her timidly, the floorboards squeaking under your bare feet. When you sat a hand on her arm, urging her to turn around, she put a larger hand on the hilt of her sword defensively and spun to face you.

At just the force of it, you stumbled back. She was strong. Your eyes widened at her hands, hovering over the holster of her weapon. She spoke, "What are you trying to do?"

Her voice was gruff and demanding, leaving no room for questions. "I don't have anywhere to go," you stated honestly.

"And what do you expect me to do about that."

Although she put on the front of a rough demeanor, her eyes scanned your frame in curiosity. Worn clothes hung from your body, hair a mess, and despite it all, you were quite pretty.

She knew she couldn't take you on a ship with a bunch of men. In her eyes, it was almost as dangerous as leaving you on the ship to fend for yourself.

Almost.

She took you onto her ship with the promise that at the next stop they had, she would drop you off there. Whether or not you knew where you were.

Having no better option, you opted to go with her. She didn't shackle you up or restrain you, knowing you could do little to no harm to her or her crew.

She refused to put you in the berth with other pirates. It was stuffy and cramped, and all in all, no place for you.

So you had a room next to her (and an odd blue haired girl). She said it was fine because it's temporary anyway.

She gave you some clothes that fit, and a pair of shoes to put on your feet. And the room was more than you could ask for. It was spacious and contained a lavish bed.

You assumed it was someone else's room previously as it was already decorated. (Plus, she told you not to meddle in any of the stuff)

Sevika didnt expect you to do anything, thinking you werent fit to operate on a ship so, you were not asked to do any work. In all your boredom you found yourself roaming around the ship, looking at the stuff that was collected in each corner. Some trinkets, belts, broken weapons, etc.

Sevika watched you closely, making sure you didn't have any ulterior motives. Eventually, she realized that you were nothing but curious.

Then she watched you closely to make sure you didn't fall overboard.

At meals, you stuck close by her side, not really knowing anyone on board yet. She gave you things off her plate, saying you looked starved. And you didn't complain. You weren't really fed in the dungeons.

She started to show you around the deck, answering your questions about the sea and her ship. When you started to ask too many questions, she sighed and shook her head, wandering off to attend to her duties.

She was truly a mystery to you, not being able to read her gaze or body language. But what you did know is that she was a ruthless captian. Always having something for her crew to do and ordering them around with her loud, booming voice.

She was intimidating in theory, yes. But towards you, she seemed a bit more.. lenient?

Nontheless, in a few days, you finally arrived at their next destination, and you stepped off the ship with everyone. Taking in the way the ground felt against your feet, no longer swaying from side to side.

You had no idea where you were, and even though it didn't seem like a bad place, you couldn't just start anew again. I mean, how were you supposed to rebuild your whole life?

Sevika sensed your anxiety as you wandered through the streets with her crew. She saw your eyes flick side to side, looking at the buildings and people.

She might regret it, but she couldn't just leave you here.

You were growing more worried by the hour, and when night fell and everyone started back to the docks, you felt lost. You stayed behind, watching them load back onto the ship when you felt a warm hand on your shoulder. "You coming?"

Looking up, you locked eyes with Sevika, her brow was cocked and her lips slightly upturned. "You're letting me stay?" You questioned, in shock.

"Well, the ship is leaving soon, so only if you can make it." She teased.

You hugged her tight, wrapping your arms around her large frame. Her eyes widened in shock, not returning the hug before you ran off to the ship.

HC time !!

Now that you were deemed officially a part of the crew you had work to do, scrubbing the deck was a daily task. Even though other crew members seemed to dread it, you enjoyed smelling the fresh ocean air and feeling the wind on your back.

Sometimes you could feel Sevika's eyes on you as you cleaned, she sat at the helm, supposedly watching everyone. But when you turned around you would lock eyes with her and she would smirk.

When she sent the crew out on missions you grew to never be afraid, picking up on how to use weapons easily and fight alongside other people.

She almost admired this about you, it was like you were a natural. Like you belonged on her ship.

You didn't know what was on her mind most of the time. She was always closed off and didn't converse with anyone on ship except for Jinx, who was obviously closer to her than the rest of the crew.

But one fateful night you ran into her when you couldn't seem to get to sleep

You approached the bow of the ship, watching the moonlight reflect off the waves, and the clouds move with the wind. It was quite beautiful at night even though there wasn't much to look at other than water.

Hearing footsteps behind you, you put a hand to your holster but spun around to see Sevika. Seeing her in this light reminded you of the day you met her, but now you were in front of her, compared to the day she found you.

"Up so late?" She questioned, her voice indicated she had waken up recently.

"Yeah, I couldn't fall asleep," You let your guard down again and leaned against the wood, hand cradling your face as you stared back into the sea.

"Y'know.. I didn't think you had it in you." She commented.

"Had what in me?" You chuckled, "The guts to be a pirate?"

You talked for a long while after that, the sun hit the horizon by the time you said your goodbyes. You had a feeling that Sevika wouldn't be a mystery to you for much longer.

Eventually, she would come around to teach you how to fight properly, as you mostly fought based off of what you saw others do. She held your body close to hers, helping you mimic her movements. Feeling the buckles of her belts on your back, the coldness of her metal arm on your waist.

As a matter of fact she taught you a lot of things, like how to steer the ship: putting her hands over yours, pointing in the direction of where to go. Teasing you when your hands got tired, and taking over for you, letting you stand between her and the wheel.

She joined you in the crows nest, sitting beside you on the railing with a hand on your back, making sure you didn't fall. She would direct your telescope to look at nearby land or into the horizon.

You had a lot of talks up there.

Sometimes, the crew wondered what was going on between you two, as you were practically always together. (She denies all allegations.. for now)

She taught you how to wield a sword and fought with you for fun. Letting you win from time-to-time, you knew she let you. I mean, there's no way you'd be able to pin Sevika to the wooden deck without a struggle.

You would catch her sleeping on the helm, her feet kicked up on a chair and her hat on her face. As punishment, you would take her hat and keep it until morning. Then, prancing around the next day with it on, commanding the crew jokingly, pretending to be her.

When she finally caught you, she would sweep you up and take the hat right off your head, chuckling at your mischievousness. Sometimes, she would let you wear her hat, only if you promised not to lose it.

After particularly stressful missions, the crew would throw a small party for their winnings, needing time to wind down. You grew accustomed to the crew, even making a few friends with unlikely people.

You and Jinx drank a bit together and danced around on the table, singing sea shanties loudly. But eventually, Sevika would catch you all. And make you clean up. (But not before having a drink herself)

And it was almost a nightly routine to go up to the deck and talk once everyone was asleep, gazing into the moon with her. It felt natural. You felt like you belonged.

God i love her, i dream about her I swear. I love pirates... and I love sevika, pls send in more pirate sevika asks i wanna do a siren one too ngl maybe how Sevika isnt drawn in by your siren call because the captain is a woman AUGHHHHH

[ozzgin]

It is the 19th century and you are returning home by ship. Before you embark, you happen to find a glowing shell abandoned by the docks. It seems that the sea creatures are searching for it. Or maybe it's something else they're interested in. content: gender neutral reader, violence, dubious consent, based on Return of the Obra Dinn

January 1802 What's the matter with me, I wonder? As if my luggage wasn't heavy enough already, I had to drag around a big shell of sorts. Found it by the docks while I waited for my ship to arrive. It has a strange glow to it, this shell. Can't quite place it.

January 1802 Cheeky bastards! The seamen are such a flirt. From the moment I stepped onto the main deck, a handful of them haven't dropped the whistles and stares. One of the topmen - I recall he's Scottish? - he's been pestering me about the ship. "I'll show ye around, can't find a better guide," he says. His mates laugh and clap to his petty attempts.

February 1802 Some of the sailors are dying from lung illness. I was on the orlop deck, playing cards with the three Russians, when the surgeon rushed to one of the cabins ahead. "If it was contagious, we'd all have it by now. Damned if I know what it is, or where it comes from," I could hear him groan. I wondered out loud if I might catch it myself, but then I noticed one of 'em rascals trying to cheat the cards. February 1802 I saw it again tonight. Ever since we launched from Falmouth, as soon as the sun sets, there's an eerie glimmer in the distance. It reminds me of this damned shell. Are my eyes playing tricks on me? Oh, the sea is so terrifying in the dark. There's nothing but black stretching all around. My window is low; whenever the waves break against it, the wooden walls let out a groan that awakens me from the deepest slumber. Surgeon gave me pills to sleep. The creaks of the ship sound like a weeping maiden. February 1802 I think the cursed glow is getting closer. I couldn't sleep anymore, so I snuck onto the main deck. Scotsman found me wandering towards the bow, so he quietly hoisted me up by the waist. I thought he'd tell the Captain, but he sat me on the lower rigging, next to him, and we listened to the waves. I was afraid I'd fall off, but he kept a steady hand on me. I wish I could tell him about the light stalking our ship. Would he think I'm mad?

February 1802 Second Mate returned today on a small boat. We heard shouts coming from upstairs, so we rushed to see what was happening. Bosun had his pistol readied next to the Captain, and the sailors lifted the cargo from below. I thought I was dreaming at first. Some creatures, unholy beings, were caught in the net. They had the body of a human, but thick, fish tails covered in spikes. One of the Formosan passengers muttered something in Chinese, and some of the tail spikes suddenly pierced him dead. The old Miss next to me fainted on the spot, and the stewards urged us to leave. Right before I turned, I noticed one of the beasts pointing at me. It had a monstrous grin on its face. Oh, what a sight! The Scotsman guided me away, but I can't forget those eyes. Was it malice? Such an intense stare, burning straight into my soul. Now that I'm writing all this, a memory has come to mind: the creature had the same shell as mine, dangling from its neck.

February 1802 The pills no longer work. I can't rest anymore. Every time I close my eyes, I hear its wretched voice, calling me from the lazarette. That's where they locked those sea monsters. It sings nonsense, blasphemous lies. We're not fated soulmates. I've nothing to do with those devils. I should've never picked up the shell. I can only pray we reach land soon.

March 1802 God, oh God, what disaster has befallen us? I don't have much time. The gun deck is in shambles, more than half the crew dead. Underwater beasts have crawled their way up our ship; strange humans with spears, saddled on top of crabs larger than I've ever seen. The poor midshipman, oh, a young boy! He set himself on fire to stop the nightmarish fiend. Threw the lamp across the floor, and the flames swallowed both of them up. I scrambled up on the main deck, but there was no peace to be found; colossal tentacles sprawled around the ship, pulling the rigging apart, tearing humans like insects. The Captain's wife was struck by a falling pillar, I saw her crumble right before me. Scotsman is still alive, but his arm is missing a good chunk of it. I don't know where to find the surgeon.

March 1803 They left. They took the last boat, I only found out this morning. I tried to join them, but one of the sailors stopped me. "Witch," he shouted at me, "the beast down by the cargo hold screams your name. You must've called it here, brought this curse upon us." I don't know what he's talking about. Tonight I'm going to the lazarette, I can no longer bear the calling. This blasted fiend, oh, he's ruined me. I'll rot on this wreck. Mother, I don't think I'll ever reach the shore.

Your steps are hesitant as you tiptoe your way around the dried blood and debris, until you reach the locked chambers. The door is bent and folded away, as if hit by a great force. You do indeed notice the round prints against the rusty surface: giant suckers from a blasphemous being.

There he is, the wicked varmint who plagues your sleep! A pale creature is propped up, halfway out of the water, welcoming you with a toothy grin. The shell around his neck glows mockingly.

You throw your own shell at him. The small, ivory object rolls with a hollow thud.

"Is this what you wanted, damned monster?"

"Why, what am I to do with two?"

His voice is harsh and deep, rapping against your eardrums, scratching the inside of your head.

"I've been waiting for you. Can't leave this place without my beloved, can I?"

"There you go again with this nonsense. Villain! Drown me if you must, but spare me your deceit."

His smile falters, eyes narrowing in a frown.

"Is that how you find my love? Some petty lie told by a charlatan? Ungrateful brat, who do you think freed you from their shackles? Who do you suspect has summoned the leviathan, from the deepest trenches of the sea, to save your mortal soul?"

"The kraken left with the storm," you counter as the blood drains from your face. Could it be that you were to blame, after all?

"No, it left after the bargain."

He pulls himself up and sits on the edge of his former cage. You observe his features in mild awe: the texture of his skin, the dark locks of hair reaching all the way to the tail, the spikes breaking out of the thick, hard scales.

"What bargain," you ask fearfully.

"The last ones are free to escape, if they leave you to me."

Why, your horrified expression is not quite something he expected. Surely one must feel relief once their freedom has been guaranteed. And not just any kind of freedom - you've been returned to your soulmate.

He's spent weeks chasing the currents, trailing the faint glow in the distance. He hasn't stopped once, tail pushing forward to the promise of a reunion.

Yet, you seem unsure. Perhaps his approach has been too hurried, too nonchalant. You need a little bit of convincing, and he happens to be a master of courting.

His thorax suddenly expands, and you can almost hear the twisting sound of his ribs cracking and breaking under the pressure. A sweet voice rolls out of his mouth, a song you've never heard before. Your heart pounds tremendously, threatening to burst out of your chest, and a foreign panic floods your senses.

Despite your desire to flee, your lids are heavy, eyes slowly closing. Through your lashes, you can discern the beast crawling towards you, the same defiant grin plastered on his face.

It's time for you to come home.

[ceilidho]

'still wakes the deep' au

prompt: You're an environmental scientist conducting research on an off-shore oil rig with only a few days left before you're slated to leave. The eldritch creature they accidentally awaken throws a wrench in the works. First Meeting masterlist

-

Choppy waters like Neptune’s eye meet your gaze when you look back at where you came from, the land on the other side but a beige striation on the horizon. 

“Afraid of heights, doctor?” your escort asks, his amusement borderline distasteful. It must stroke their ego to watch newcomers come aboard and flounder, gawking at the swells and waves crashing against the oil rig, each wave so cataclysmic that it’s a wonder the structure stays upright. A wonder of engineering, that is. 

The rig manager stands closer to the railing, staring without fear out into the ocean surrounding you. His sea legs are likelier studier than the ones that wash up ashore every fourteen days when he’s due for his OSHA mandated break. His knees don’t even buckle at the sight of the barnacles clinging nerve-wrackingly high up on the rig legs. Far too high up for comfort. 

“No, sir,” you reply, shaking your head. “Just water.”

He barks a laugh at that. “Plenny o’ that around here. Wouldn’y go leaning my head over the rail then, if I was you.”

You take another look down, balking at the frothy white streaking the latticework barrier around the jacket legs. No worries there; there isn’t a chance in hell you’ll be going anywhere near the rails. You’re too high up to know for sure, but you wonder if there are sharks plumbing the depths beneath the rig, excited by the noise and activity on board. 

You’d be shark chum if you went overboard. Beyond that, you’d be fish food; no sympathy from the sea to be found this far from land. 

“Where should I set up?” you ask instead. 

Sensing your eagerness to get started—and to get away from the edge of the rig—he gestures for you to follow him and sets off towards the door closest to you, leading you into the interior of the rig. “This way, doc—got a room already set up for ye. Cozier in there than out here.”

The first few days aren’t so bad after that. You spend the first day getting unpacked, your suitcase already waiting for you in your quarters, which doubles as your office, and then turn in early after prepping for the next day. 

As anticipated, you spend the next day hunched over the toilet bowl, stomach roiling from spending too long staring at the turbulent waters below. You’ve done this before but it never gets any easier. Despite your chosen field of research, you’re suited for dry land, not the sea. It’s the price you have to pay though. 

No coffee that first morning. Just tea to help settle your stomach. And it does for a bit—lets you get through your first day worth of tests without you upchucking while collecting water samples from the discharge point. You’ll save your indoor work for the days when the crests of the waves are high enough to spray the working deck. By dinner, your stomach is a little more settled, but still you elect to eat in your quarters instead of with the workers in the mess. 

You haven’t been on the rig long enough to have made any enemies, nor do you think that’s something that’ll happen during your brief time on board, but you definitely haven’t made any friends. It comes with the territory. The men that work on these rigs out in the middle of the ocean—even the ones on land, for that matter—tend to view your kind with distrust at the very least, if not outright hostility. 

It’s hard to blame them. The purpose of your visit isn’t to shower them with praises. You’re stationed on the rig for the next few days to collect data and samples to assess the environmental impact of the rig’s operations. It puts you somewhat at odds with them, the outcome of your work being potentially to the detriment of theirs. 

Some whisper the word like blasphemy. Government worker. They say it like you’re the Baba Yaga or a witch living in a cottage at the edge of the village, like uttering the word too loudly will summon you. There’s too much work to do around the rig for them to cluck their tongues like gossipy hens, but the men find time for it anyway. You’d roll your eyes if you were any greener. 

The truth is though, you’re used to it, and at this point in your career, you don’t have it in you to act like it’s such a shock that they wouldn’t give you the red carpet treatment. All you need is a hot cup of coffee, an office (or even just a desk) to write your reports, and some space to conduct your research without being badgered with questions.

Most of the men tend to blur together, a medley of fluorescent yellow hard hats and navy coveralls, respirators strung around their necks and goggles covering their eyes. It’s easy enough to mistake them for one another. 

Only one of them has managed to catch your eye so far, though you can’t say it’s for a particularly good reason. Of the lot of them, he’s the loudest. Which is saying something, considering that the crew tend to speak in shouts and hollers to make up for the crashing waves beneath them and the howling winds above them. He’s also among the tallest, broad shouldered and muscled—a former first responder or military, if you had to guess, though you keep your assumptions to yourself. 

You know better than to ask questions around him because you’ve learned in the short time that you’ve spent on the rig not to give him—Soap, they call him, or MacTavish when the rig manager is particularly pissed off—even an inch. 

It’s another crew member that gives you that heads up. “Din’y pay him any mind.”

“Who?” you ask, looking up from your work.

The crew member nods to the man posted on the other side of the main deck. “Soap. Bit of a showboat, that one. Always stirrin’ up the boys, gettin’ ‘em all riled up. Din’y let him distract ye too much.”

“Oh. Thanks.” You look back down at the data sheets in front of you. “I’m not worried though. He hasn’t been too much trouble.”

Famous last words. 

He isn’t too much trouble until he suddenly is; until he’s suddenly everywhere, always in your way somehow. Not so much underfoot as just always around the corner waiting with his stupid smug smirk that you’ve grown to despise and half-lidded electric blue eyes roving up and down the length of you. Aggravating you at every turn. 

Your first meeting is an accident. At least, it seems that way, and likely is—he seems too blunt for coincidences or chance meetings, happy to tell you to your face that he manipulated the situation in order to get you on your own. 

You’re wandering down one of the many circulatory hallways and slightly lost when a door suddenly opens, blocking your way. A jumpsuit-clad man twice your size walks out, his hair just brushing the top of the doorframe. Though you recognize him instantly, you’d never gotten close enough for the details to cement in your mental image of him. Up close, you get a better look.

The faint lines around his eyes and mouth betray either his age or the life he’s lived. Weathered; bronzed from days at a time spent under the sun. You’d noticed the mohawk earlier, but staring at the side of his head now, you can see the faint puckering of a healed wound splintering out from his temple into his hairline. Though the sides of his head are freshly shorn, the scar looks old—maybe a year, maybe more. 

When he notices that he’s not alone in the hall, his head turns in your direction and he stops, one foot still in the other room. Two thick brows go up at the sight of you standing there with your tablet clutched to your chest. 

“Hullo gorgeous,” Soap purrs, pupils suddenly pinpricks and your stomach drops. 

Because of course he would. You’d long figured he might be an arrogant piece of work from what little you’ve observed of him from across the rig, but you should’ve known he’d also be a flirt. He’s too good-looking not to be one. Tall and broad, with biceps the size of your head. You’re sure he rolls his shirt sleeves up just to feel them strain against the muscles of his arms. You certainly can’t help the way your eyes are drawn there. 

“Ah ken who ye are,” he says, taking a step towards you until the tips of his boots nearly touch yours. The door is still wide open behind him, swinging slowly towards the wall behind it. Soap towers over you easily, tipping his head to stare down at you. Your lips press into a tight line when his eyes drop to your chest, staring at the outline of your tits through your cardigan. 

“Okay,” you say through stiff lips.

“Yer that lass from the government. Ah thought ye'd be auld,” he jokes, shit-eating grin on his face. 

You nearly groan. It’s too early for this shit and you’re too tired from being up all night working on your report on the rig’s discharge water quality. 

“Well, I’m not,” you reply woodenly instead, altogether unimpressed with him. 

For as fit as he is, you’re not here to flirt or hookup, and you’re good at separating work and your personal life. If anyone manages to get under your skin enough to tempt you, it won’t be the man undressing you with his eyes while covered in a thin layer of grime and sweat. 

“Nae, yer no’,” he agrees, voice a low burr. His eyes flick up to meet yours. “I’m John, by the way.”

“I know.”

“…It’s polite tae give yer name when someone introduces thersel's tae ye.”

“I’d rather you just call me doctor.”

“Doctor, eh?” Soap purrs, running his tongue over his bottom lip. “Dae ye dae house calls, doc? Hae been feelin’ a wee bit feverish lately.”

You can’t help the way your cheeks heat at his comment. “Not that kind of doctor. Do you mind getting out of the way?”

“Jesus, I din’y ken ye’d be so fuckin’ prickly. Thought ye government workers were cheery a' the time.”

“Not when we have work to do,” you bite out, decidedly uncomfortable with his shameless perusal and eager just to get on with your day. “Can you move please? I have somewhere to be.”

All that does is force him to take another step closer, toe-to-toe with you now. You should’ve known he’d take that as an invitation. He reeks of grease and brine, the smell pungent and clinging to his skin and clothes. Almost like he sleeps and works in the same pair of coveralls instead of bringing his dirty clothes down to the laundry facility like everyone else at the end of the week. 

You tell yourself to stop staring at where his coveralls open to a sweat-slicked chest, dark hair poking up over the neckline, but your eyes don’t comply. A small cross dangles from a chain around his neck, nestled in the hair just above his pecs. 

“Good Catholic lass, are ye?” Soap asks, noticing the focal point of your gaze.

You scrunch up your nose at that. “No. I didn’t—it’s none of your business anyway.”

The stutter is where his eyes light up, a little gleam in the blue that lets you know you’ve caught his interest. Like seeing a storm well off in the distance and bracing for it anyway, knowing that you’re in its path no matter what you do. 

“A’right, doc, Ah'll leave ye tae it. Gotta get back myself anyway,” he says, rolling his shoulders back and standing up taller, and it’s only in that moment that you realize how low his neck had been bent in order to get closer to you. “Wait. I can’y let ye go lookin’ like that.”

You’re about to ask him what he means when he suddenly grabs you by the front of your cardigan and pulls you towards him, getting the grease on his hands all over the fabric. Your eyes nearly bug out of your skull as he pops the topmost button into its corresponding hole, the only one you’d left purposefully loose. 

The only reason you don’t snap at him to take his hands off you is because your tongue is a knot in your throat. 

“There we go,” Soap coos when the button is in, looking down at his handiwork all over the front of your shirt. “Lookin’ like part o’ the crew already.”

Your heart pounds in your chest long after he lets you go. When he steps to the side, the door flush with the wall by now, you dart around him, walking away as fast as your legs can carry you without sprinting. You ignore the way he belts out a laugh at your swift departure. Ignore the way your stomach cramps at the sound as well. 

He might end up being more trouble than you thought.

[roosterforme]

Mail Call | Rooster x Reader

Summary: After a long and illustrious Naval career, Bradley was used to months spent on an aircraft carrier. Nothing ever felt quite as good as a letter from home. He thought he knew what to expect this time, but you always made things more exciting.

Warnings: adult language, masturbation, horny love letter

Length: 2500 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Check out my masterlist for more!

Bradley had been in the Navy long enough to know when to expect a mail call. Maybe it was intuition or a sixth sense, but after so many years of deployments, he was certain. When he woke up on Tuesday, something told him to start getting excited. There would be a box with his name written in a familiar scrawl in his hands soon. "Commander Bradshaw." He turned to see a petty officer jogging along the interior corridor of the aircraft carrier with a clipboard in hand. "Sir, here's your schedule for the day." Bradley grunted and skimmed the sheet as he made his way up to the tower. The lightness he felt mere moments ago was replaced by annoyance. Back-to-back meetings filled every inch of the sheet, including a meeting that was scheduled for after dinner.

"Damn it," he muttered, taking the stairs two at a time. His plan to collect his parcel, enjoy a meal, and then head to his private bunk to read the letter was dashed. But he was still convinced that a Comanche helicopter would touch down on deck at some point this afternoon if the weather permitted. He'd get his mail when he could. He needed to wait a little longer to hear from you, which would make him grouchy in the interim.When he pushed open the heavy door to the tower, he greeted the collection of older officers by uttering just one word. "Admirals."

They all greeted him in response with a chorus of overworked voices, and then another clipboard was thrust into his hand. Attached to this one was a sheet detailing the flight schedules for the day, and sure enough, a smile curled along his lips below his mustache when he saw that a Comanche was slated to arrive at 1500 hours with the note US Airmail Transport.

God, a letter from you was sounding better by the minute. Your tone would be soft. You'd tell him how much you missed him. There would be something in there from-

"Commander Bradshaw. Let's get started with your pilots."

His musings were cut short, and he sighed before slipping the offered headset into place and testing out the comms. He was in charge of the training exercises for this deployment, and he needed to keep his mind clear so he could keep his aviators safe. It would do him no good to be focused on what might be happening back at home. He could read about it later.

But as the day wore on, the sky darkened, and storm clouds painted the horizon. When he called his team back to the carrier and watched them land one at a time, he asked the admirals, "Should we check in with the mail transport? It seems to have gone off schedule."

Lightning cut across the sky just as the comms crackled to life with a new voice. "This is Comanche. We're coming in low from the east, trying to avoid the rain. Are we clear to make a quick landing in seventeen minutes?"

Bradley listened to the air traffic team guide the helicopter in, and sure enough, the landing was low and loud, followed by another crack of lightning. He watched from his high vantage point as a team ran out in boots and rain slickers to collect bin after bin of mail, and now his hands were itching again. He could already feel the familiar weight of the box packed with his favorite snacks and some handmade artwork.

"Commander, you'll be late to meet with the pilots."

Bradley was once again yanked from his daydream of being at home where it was warm and dry and cozy, and he was faced with the prospect of having to duck outside into the storm to get to the meeting rooms on time.

The first gust of wind had him shivering and wishing he could grab his mail directly from the helicopter and head back to his bunk. The second gust left him cursing under his breath. He had to go lecture all of these young pilots about where they needed to improve before they could fly their mission, and he just didn't have the energy for it.

"Work now, reward later," he told himself, taking a deep breath and picturing your smile. That was enough to get him through the meetings. It was enough to get him back to his small office where he wrote up his notes for the day. It was even enough to get him all the way to the narrow hallway where the mail was being sorted.

But now there was a massive fucking line of officers in uniform waiting for the same thing he was. And to top it off, his stomach was growling. He could bail out of line, eat dinner, and come back later, hoping there was still someone there to disperse the mail before they closed up shop for the night. But it wasn't worth the risk. He'd be happy to skip dinner in favor of mail from you. It wasn't even a question in his mind.

When he finally reached the window and the rows of alphabetized bins, he told the officer in charge, "Bradshaw, Bradley," and then waited quite impatiently to have an ordinary looking cardboard box thrust into his hands. But his heart leapt with joy as soon as he held it and saw your handwriting. "Thank you."

The box felt a little lighter than usual. Maybe you didn't have time to load it up with as many snacks as you usually did. He hated leaving you for weeks and months at a time to deal with everything at home on your own. He loved being at home for the day to day grind. Loved it. But there was something unique about seeing how much things changed while he was gone.

He shook the box a little bit, curiosity getting the best of him. He passed the cafeteria and ran like a child to get back to his bunk as quickly as he could where he set the box down and tore into it. When he saw the three envelopes on top, he had to fight back his tears and take a deep breath.

He carefully picked up the envelope that said Daddy in purple crayon and opened it up to find several coloring sheets and a note written in light pink crayon that was a little hard to read.

Daddy,

I lost my first toooth. The toooth fairee took it. I got a glittery doller. I drew you the toooth and the fairee.

Love, Wren

Bradley found the corresponding page with a drawing of the tooth along with the tooth fairy. His daughter also wrote her name all over the back of the paper in every color crayon imaginable which made him smile. He read her note again before carefully placing it on his nightstand, and then he picked up the envelope that said Dad in black pen.

Dad,

When are you coming home? Fourth grade is so boring. We are learning how to write in cursive, but I already know how. Mom doesn't make the homework as fun as you do. Don't tell her I said that.

Actually everything is better when you're at home. I had a good report card, so mom let me get a skateboard. I covered it in bird stickers. I can almost stand on it for three seconds. Soccer tryouts are next week, and mom promised to take a video so you can watch it later. When are you coming home again? I'll make sure she doesn't delete the video.

Wren drew you a tooth fairy, but it looks like a demon. So then I started to try to draw the tooth fairy, and it looks really cool. It's on the back of the page. Please write back and tell us when you're coming home.

Love, Hawk

His son's version of the tooth fairy did look pretty cool, and now Bradley was cracking up as he took a second look at the one his daughter drew. Yeah, it was a bit frightening. He set both notes aside, finally ready to read what you had written to him. The third envelope said Bradley in your familiar handwriting, but his heart lurched into his belly. Instead of the thick envelope filled with page after page that he usually received from you, this one was light. His brow creased in concern as he opened it up to reveal just one sheet.

Bradley,

We miss you. The kids are mostly holding it together, but we're waiting until we know your return date to start a countdown. You know how much Wren cries when the countdown goes on for too long. Honestly, it makes me want to cry, too.

I could write you a novel about work and school and how much I miss you, but I thought it might just be more fun to show you. I got a little carried away with the camera a few nights ago when I couldn't sleep. I was too hot, and your pillow still smells like you. It smelled so good. I started thinking about what you and I will do when you get home. Then I couldn't stop. I literally could not stop touching myself, Bradley.

It never feels as good without you, but I do think some of the photos portray just how vivid my imagination was that night. Like I said, I got carried away.

Let us know when you'll be home.

Love, Your horny wife

Bradley immediately started digging through the box, and he soon realized you'd only included a thin layer of his favorite snacks. He scooped them out onto his bed and was left with some Polaroids. A lot of Polaroids.

"Holy shit," he whispered under his breath, reaching in and pulling out a photo of you wearing nothing but a tiny lace thong in his favorite shade of blue. He loved that thing. He loved taking it off of you. Your arm was covering your breasts in the photo, but that was okay. He had a vivid imagination.

Oh, but you didn't leave him hanging at all. The next one he grabbed was you sprawled out in bed, tits on full display, thong present and accounted for. You were biting down on your lip, and he could almost hear you moan. Your nipples were hard and looked just like they did after he had them in his mouth.

"God damn it, Baby. You're killing me." He missed his family. He missed being at home. But right now, all he could think about was fucking the absolute shit out of his wife.

Now he was looking at a beautiful shot of just your face, eyes closed, lips parted in pleasure. That was followed up by you bending over in the thong. And then one where you had your nose buried in his pillow.

There were so many photos, he was getting dizzy. And he was hard. He took a few seconds to unzip his khaki uniform pants while his eyes searched through the photos still inside the box. "Damn," he groaned, wrapping his right hand around his cock while he picked up one of the photos with his left.

You were straddling his pillow in your underwear. Literally grinding your pussy against it. Back arched, tits front and center, riding his pillow like it was his face. He really wished it was.

"Okay, Baby," he murmured, picking up another one while he stroked himself. Your hand was inside your thong. Another one where your blue thong was pulled to the side, showing off your pussy. Another one where you had two fingers knuckle-deep inside yourself. Another one where you were licking your wet fingers.

When he reached blindly into the box again, his hand connected with something softer next to the Polaroids. To his absolute delight, his fingers wrapped around that bit of fabric that he recognized right away. The blue thong. His cock jumped in excitement as he raised your panties slowly from the box and brought them all the way to his face. He knew. He knew you hadn't washed it. He just fucking knew this little thing was put in the box directly after you came all over it and dragged it down your soft legs.

His mouth watered as he pressed it to his nose. Eyes squeezed shut, he inhaled the scent of your arousal. He moaned your name. He could practically taste you as he rutted into his own hand. Bradley inhaled and exhaled your smell, running the lace along his nose, mustache and lips. The fabric was soft on his face, and he could picture you teasing him with it.

He would do anything to have you right now. He wanted you bent over the end of the bed, sobbing and begging him to go harder. He wanted your sweet voice in his ear. He wanted you on your knees. He wanted to bury his face in your pussy until you screamed.

"Jesus Christ," he whined, panting as he jerked himself off. All he could smell was you. It smelled like home and being in love. He couldn't get enough as he rubbed your thong all over his face before lowering it down to his cock. The lace felt exquisite as he ached with need. The fabric glided along in his hand, creating a friction that left him groaning.

He jerked himself off slowly, trying to make it last as long as he could, but the Polaroids were all he could see, and your pussy was all he could smell. He came all over your thong, ribbons of white decorating it while he held onto the wall for support.

"Oh, fuck," he whispered, voice harsh as he drained every drop onto the lace. He held the sticky mess in his hand and huffed out a surprised laugh. From thousands of miles away, you did this to him. This was different from the mail he usually received from you, but he wasn't complaining. He got a nice update on what was happening at home plus a lot more than he bargained for.

Bradley walked into his tiny bathroom and draped your thong over the sink faucet before washing his hands. Maybe he'd have time to grab some dinner before returning to his bunk to write back to you, Hawk, and Wren. He had so much to say. Especially to you. He'd set himself up in bed with one of his clipboards and tell you all about what you made him do.

"Oh, shit," he told his reflection in the mirror as he thought about his clipboard again. "Fuck!"

He had one more meeting left. Starting in just minutes. He eased his cock back into his pants, still zipping up as he left his bunk. Then he walked while discreetly trying to tuck his shirt in and straighten out his uniform.

The further he got from your wrecked underwear, the more he realized he could still smell you. He was going to be able to smell you all night. This was going to be a painfully long meeting. And the letter he wrote to you later was going to be as dirty as your underwear.

----------------------

Thanks for reading! It's been a while since I posted a Bradley one-shot, and this one was hanging out in my drafts for a bit. Much love for a DILF. Hope you enjoy your Valentine's Day as much as Bradley enjoyed his mail!

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[charliemwrites]

Hiiiii! So I’m not super thrilled with this but I’ve been having a time of it at work so I worked on this when I could 🙃

Not sure if there will be a second part yet tbh we’ll see!

Edit: almost forgot to add that the gorgeous divider below is by @gildui they have some absolutely beautiful cod themed dividers.

Carrion

Reader comes back Wrong

Content: implied/referenced torture, injury, suicide reference/implicated “pact” (by background character), lack of wound care

The breakup was bad.

Not in the top 3 of Simon’s worst nightmare-inducing memories - but likely top 5. He certainly wakes up chest aching and eyes burning often enough for it to be a solid contender. He’s haunted by tears that dripped like acid and the cracks in your voice deafening him.

On bad days, he thinks he can still see you shuffling down the halls, eyes sunken and red-rimmed, dark circles and chapped lips. Anger giving way to resignation giving way to pain and sadness. The rest of the team tight-lipped and wincing, no sides taken, shoulders and ears offered equally in commiseration.

Your misery wanted no company, though.

You didn’t tell Simon that you were leaving. Gaz let slip over a subdued but obligatory game of cards, you’d be gone for a long time - loaned out to Laswell.

Simon didn’t go to see you off. Didn’t ask why you were leaving or accuse you of being too immature to be on a team with him. He didn’t wish you good luck, stay safe with the rest of the team on the tarmac at 0-dark when you took off.

He should have.

Price says you’ll be gone for six months. Just six. It’s better this way, he reminds them when Johnny balks. His eyes are on Simon, though, when he adds that you need to get your head on straight, and you weren’t able to do it with them.

So. Six months.

Simon stops expecting you on his left. Stops smelling your shampoo lingering on bits of clothes he pretended not to notice you steal. He still dreams about you begging him not to push you away.

183 days come and go.

On day 184, Laswell sends word - your temporary team likes you quite a bit. They want you to stay on for one more month… one more mission… one more…

Six months turns to ten.

312 days since you left; since you were home.

The team hasn’t stopped leaving a space for you at their tables, right between Gaz and Price. You miss your own birthday. Laswell says she’ll pass along well wishes.

The situation changes. A target resurfaces. All hands on deck, including yours.

374 days. Twelve months and some change.

They don’t spend the holidays with you, but there’s a stack of presents waiting in Price’s office. Your mugs have collected dust in the back of the rec room cabinet.

Laswell says you’re still deployed on one last mission, return TBD. Soon, though.

487 days. Still TBD. Soon. Really. Just some loose ends to tie up.

561 days. There was some trouble during exfil but you’re alright. Just a bit of recovery.

You’re coming home.

590 days. You’ll land at 0700 tomorrow.

It’s been 591 days since Simon last saw you. Since any of them last saw you.

Laswell has come to deliver you personally, a kind of apology for keeping you away so long. She’s the first off the transport and you’re right behind her.

Your hair is shorter. Much, much shorter. There’s a new patch on your jacket - memento from your temporary team, Simon figures.

Apart from that, you look… almost exactly how you did when you left. Dark circles under your eyes, mouth drawn and tight. There’s invisible weight compressing your shoulders, urging them in and down. But you’re there again. Just the way he remembers.

(Why are you the way he remembers?)

“Long time, no see,” Gaz calls, reaching for you.

There’s half a beat, you blink. Hesitate.

Then you grin and reach back.

“Missed my pretty face, did you?” you reply.

Johnny laughs and brings you in for a hug. You twitch hug him back, patting his shoulder as you pull away.

“Good to have you back, Sergeant,” Price says, shaking your hand.

You turn to Simon, nod in greeting, expression pleasant. “Ghost.”

So that’s how it’ll be? Alright.

“Sergeant.”

That night, you go out for drinks with the team and Laswell. Simon goes along to show there are no hard feelings.

(Not that you seem to need reassurance. It’s not even that you’re not looking at him. You are. Whenever he speaks, the rare times he does, or if he shifts in his seat. Your gaze doesn’t linger or jerk away, you treat him like you do Johnny and Gaz and Price.)

When Johnny mixes up your usual for Price’s, you don’t even seem to notice. But Simon does.

“When did you start drinking whiskey?” he wonders.

You used to swear you’d never like it, claiming it tasted like boot polish and the “Boys Club” wasn’t worth the indigestion it gave you.

“Someone from my other team,” you say by way of explanation.

You don’t ask for another whiskey. Laswell gets the rest of your drinks for that night.

Simon turns into the rec room two days later and finds you already there. There’s only the light above the sink on, and you’re staring at the steady drip, drip, drip from the faucet. A cup of black coffee cools in your hand. You’re already wearing gloves.

“Sugar’s in the left now,” he calls.

Your head twitches, something pops in your neck.

“Oh, thanks,” you chirp, turning for the cabinet. “Sleep okay, LT?”

“‘Bout as well as I ever do,” he replies gruffly, sidling up next to you for the kettle.

You hum. There’s a yellow packet in your hand. (Didn’t you used to like the blue one?)

“I get that,” you sympathize.

He snorts. Since when?

“Do you?”

When he glances down, you’re not looking at him. Instead, you’re trying (and failing) to get the sink to stop dripping.

“You know that’s been broken for ages,” he says.

At least as long as the 141 has been around. You tried to fix it once when you first joined up, too, with no luck.

“Right,” you say. A little too quickly, a little too agreeably. “Well, anyway, enjoy your tea, Lieutenant.”

You leave the packet of sugar behind. Unopened.

You’re back and it’s like it used to be - not just before you left, but before the breakup. Before there was ever anything to break up.

Your time away seems to have given you whatever space from Simon you were hoping for, because you act like there was never anything at all.

He’s half expecting, dreading, that you’ll pull him aside at some point. Ask for a word after dinner, or swing by his room before bed. Talk about the break up now that cooler heads prevail and 19 months have sanded down the rough feelings. Seek closure, maybe.

But you don’t. The weeks pass until a month has gone and you never exchange more than easy pleasantries with Simon. You give him space, give him privacy. Things you never used to give him much of before, for better or worse.

You fool around with Gaz and Johnny, trade quips with Price, and follow Simon’s orders. Train recruits. Write reports.

You’re back, better than ever.

So why does it feel like Simon’s still waiting for you to return?

You’re always dressed now, head to toe. Day or night, rain or shine. From the neck down you’re in full sleeves, long pants, boots and gloves.

It doesn’t occur to anyone until you’re sweating through your compression shirt in the gym. Wipe your shiny forehead for the dozenth time before Johnny says, “why not just take it off?”

“It’s not that bad,” you laugh, waving him off.

When you lie down to bench press, Simon notes the bottom of your shirt tucked tight into your waistband. He exchanges a glance with Johnny - he’s seen it too.

You used to dress in shorts and sports bras during exercise, a towel over your shoulder. In the common room, you’d mill in tank-tops and boxers. Even used to trot down the hall swaddled in a towel or robe, mumbling that you forgot a razor or some other toiletry before showering.

“What, did ye get an embarrassing tattoo or somethin’?” Johnny asks finally.

You blink at him, expression bemused. “A tattoo? Why do you think I have a tattoo?”

“Yer covered up like a nun on Sunday. It cannae be comfortable.”

You snort. “Just because you’re allergic to clothes, MacTavish…”

“Allergic?! Wha’s tha’ s’posed t’mean?!”

Gaz barks a laugh. You grin and continue your workout.

Simon tries not to be disturbed by the name “MacTavish” coming off your tongue for the first time since you met.

It’s your first mission since you’ve been back. You have new gear, a new handgun. Something’s been carved into the side of the barrel in Cyrillic, Simon can’t read it. A new callsign.

(“What kind of a name is Carry-on?” Johnny teases, but he doesn’t quite hide the unease in his eyes.

You snort and lace your boots tighter. The edge of you sleeve inches up, revealing the curve of a glossy scar that wasn’t there before.

“You’re one to talk Mister Maybelline.”)

Someone painted an upside down cross on the temple of your helmet with their finger. You thumb it before stuffing it over your head.

“You ready for this?” Gaz asks, knocking his knee into yours. The two of you have been paired together for this mission. (Was it Simon’s imagination, or did you look annoyed that you would have a partner?)

“Always,” you reply.

Simon doesn’t hear what happens, but Gaz looks shellshocked when you haul him into the helicopter during exfil. You shake him a bit once everything is secure and the bird’s in the air.

“Garrick,” you shout, “c’mon, where did he get you?”

It takes him a second but he blinks, offers his arm for your inspection. You move with a speed even Simon is impressed by, tearing into the nearby med kit almost viciously. Gaz is patched up in record time and you sit back with blood on your hands, barely even seem to notice as you wipe them carelessly on your pants.

(You used to be more squeamish, weren’t you? You used to be the last one they asked for medical care because seeing your teammates in pain made you nauseous.)

“What about you?” Gaz asks after a small eternity.

You yawn. “What about me?”

“You got nicked too, didn’t you?”

Simon takes a second look at you and now that Gaz mentions it, you’re soaked in blood. Wet patches on your vest, your pants, dripping down your boots. It takes him a moment to notice the tear in your thigh, shredded flesh visible when you rock with the wind turbulence.

“Did I?” you wonder, glancing down like you only just noticed it.

Johnny curses, reaches for you - but you wave him off.

“It’s just a scratch,” you reply. “Barely even feel it, no worries.”

Then why is it still bleeding?

When the team lands, you hop off the heli without so much as a wince. Droplets of blood lead all the way back to your room.

(When Simon asks Nikolai about the hand-etching on your gun, he says the word means “promise.”)

In the after-action report, your callsign isn’t “Carry-On.” It’s Carrion.

Laswell takes you off the mission two months later, a joint assignment with KorTac. They send three operators to work with TF141 - Stiletto, Konig, and Nikto.

On the transport to infil, Simon notices the Russian inspecting his handgun in a seat separated from the rest of the squad. He recognizes the Cyrillic carved into the barrel this time: Promise.

It’s an eerie, creeping suspicion. An anxious fog rolling in.

It’s not one single thing that trips an alarm in Simon’s head, but a steady collation of oddities over months. A single arhythmic beat, a note off key. Just once or twice, but over and over until he can’t notice anything else.

You act just like yourself except for all the minute ways you don’t.

You smile big and wide, sunshine bright, when they make a good joke. Your laugh is still the same, bubbling up in your throat, head thrown back. You smell the same when you pass Simon in the hall, shampoo and soap that’s haunted him for a year and a half.

It’s insidiously subtle; he can’t pinpoint what it is for the longest time. Your mannerisms are almost too practiced, the cadence of your voice too measured. A missing turn of phrase you often used, replaced by something unfamiliar.

Simon dismisses it as guilt-laden paranoia. The two of you ended on bad terms with a year and half worth of space between. He’s hardly one to gauge what’s normal for you anymore.

And besides, the few times someone else has noticed at those tiny yet all-too-obvious inconsistencies, you shrug it off as something you picked up while away.

But he catches Johnny’s brows furrow one afternoon as you light up a cig (after swearing for years that you’d never pick up the habit) and Simon knows he’s beginning to see it too.

“You ever notice,” Gaz begins slowly. You’re the only one missing from the rec room this evening, retired with a drawn-out yawn. “That Carrion always mentions being away, but never talks about it?”

Simon stills. Johnny’s eyes fly to Price, who’s grimly tapping at his crossword puzzle.

“The file’s redacted,” he says. He’s seen it too then, tried to investigate for himself.

“That’s normal for a mission like that,” Simon reasons carefully.

“I don’t mean the mission,” Price says. “I mean Carrion’s file.”

“This is a good movie,” you mumble from the armchair you’ve stolen from Price. “What’s it called?”

Simon exchanges glances with the rest of the team. No one points out that this is (used to be?) your favorite.

Price looks into the team you were loaned out to. All were KIA or remain MIA. All but one. His file has been scrubbed too, the only documents readable are discharge orders and a PMC contract, both associated with the callsign “Nikto.”

They’re running out of time.

Less than 36 hours on the clock with only one lead, and it’s a zealot with a suicide pact. Price and Laswell both took a crack at him with nothing to show for it. Even Ghost has gotten hardly anything and he’s running out of nails. With time, he might get something useful, but they don’t have much of that left.

In the anteroom looking into interrogation, you’ve been observing through the one-way glass with your hands in your pockets, head tilted, expression serene.

Price and Laswell are discussing strategy, contingencies. Gaz and Johnny are throwing in their two cents, but Simon… Simon is watching you.

Like medical, torture used to be your Achilles. You were trained like the rest of the team, but there was never any need for you to step into the room yourself. Hell, you were a last resort even for observation or emergency resuscitation. No one blamed you for having a weak stomach for information extraction.

But today, you glance over your shoulder and make eye contact with Laswell.

“I’ll handle it,” you say with an air of finality.

The room goes silent. Price opens his mouth, but it’s Laswell that speaks, voice hard with resignation.

“Do it.”

You don’t blink. “Yes, ma’am.”

You walk out the door without a backwards glance, shoulders loose but each step steady and purposeful.

“What the hell is going on, Kate?” Price demands.

Kate sighs, looks away as you enter the interrogation room.

“Let’s do this outside. It won’t take long to get that intel.”

The only thing she’s able to share is that you and your team were captured. For a long time. And then you’re already stepping out of the interrogation room, wiping your bloodied hands off on an old rag.

There’s an unusual glint in your eye, an unnatural stillness in your expression.

“Got what we need,” you announce cheerfully.

[ari-ana-bel-la]

Hello baby. Can you please write some George story where he is spending a nice day on see witb his daughter and Carmen. Could the daughter be a baby or a toddler, please?

A day on sea

The bright Greek sun shimmered over the sparkling turquoise sea as the small family arrived at the marina. The air was warm, carrying a light, salty breeze that promised a perfect day on the water. George stepped out of the car, stretching his long limbs before turning to help Carmen, who carefully lifted their two-year-old daughter, Yn, from her car seat.

"There it is," George said, nodding toward the sleek white yacht bobbing gently against the dock. His voice was warm with excitement as he slung a bag over his shoulder. "What do you think, love? Fancy a day on the sea?"

Carmen smiled, adjusting Yn in her arms as their daughter rested her head against her shoulder, still half-asleep from the drive. "I think you’ve outdone yourself this time. She’s going to love it."

George chuckled softly, stepping onto the yacht first. He tested his footing before reaching out a hand toward Carmen. "Come on, let me help you. Careful with our little mermaid."

With practiced ease, Carmen passed Yn to him for a moment before stepping on board herself. Once she was secure, George gently handed their daughter back to her, brushing a soft kiss across her temple. Yn stirred slightly but remained blissfully asleep in her mother’s arms.

"Still out," Carmen murmured, smoothing back a few strands of Yn’s dark curls.

George leaned in, kissing the top of her head. "Let her rest for now. We’ve got all day."

They moved inside to settle their things. George busied himself getting the yacht ready to pull out, while Carmen found a shady spot on the deck where she could sit comfortably with Yn nestled against her chest. The gentle hum of the engine soon filled the air as they drifted out into open waters.

For a while, the only sounds were the lapping of the waves and the occasional breeze rustling past. Carmen closed her eyes, cradling Yn as she slept peacefully, lulled by the soft rocking of the boat.

George finally slowed the yacht, satisfied they were far enough out. The water gleamed a deep blue beneath them, shimmering in the midday sun. With the engine off, the world seemed blissfully quiet. He turned back to his girls, his heart swelling at the sight of them.

"Alright," he whispered, stepping over to kneel beside Carmen. His fingers brushed gently over Yn’s cheek. "I think it’s time our little sea princess woke up and joined the fun."

Yn stirred under his touch, her lashes fluttering against her cheeks. George leaned in, placing a series of soft kisses along her forehead and down to her chubby little hand.

"Sweetheart," he murmured, his voice as soft as the breeze. "Wake up, baby. Daddy’s here."

A tiny whimper escaped her lips before she shifted in Carmen’s arms, her eyes cracking open. For a moment, she seemed confused, her brows furrowing as she tried to process where she was.

"Hey, love," Carmen said softly, smiling down at her.

When Yn’s gaze finally landed on George, her whole face lit up. A delighted giggle burst from her lips as she reached for him with her small hands.

"There’s my girl," George laughed, scooping her up from Carmen’s arms and holding her close. "Did you have a nice nap? Guess what—you're on a boat!"

Yn wiggled excitedly, pressing her hands against his cheeks. "Boat!" she echoed, her voice high and sweet.

"That’s right!" Carmen laughed, stretching her arms above her head. "And guess what else? You get to swim with us today."

George stood, bouncing Yn lightly in his arms. "Let’s get you ready, love. Mummy’s going to find your swimsuit while I blow up your floatie. Sound good?"

Yn clapped her hands, her giggles bubbling over as George nuzzled her neck. "Swim!"

Carmen disappeared below deck to grab Yn’s pink bathing suit while George settled onto one of the cushioned benches, pulling out the small inflatable floatie. As he worked, he kept Yn entertained by blowing exaggerated puffs of air, making silly faces that had her bursting into fits of laughter.

"You think Daddy’s funny, huh?" he teased, tapping her nose.

Yn’s laughter only grew louder, and George beamed, utterly enchanted by her joy.

Carmen returned, holding up the tiny bathing suit. "Alright, sweet girl, let’s get you changed."

George carefully passed Yn back to her, pressing a kiss to Carmen’s cheek on the way. "I’ll finish this and jump in first. Make sure it’s all good."

It didn’t take long for him to blow up the floatie. With a playful salute, he slipped out of his shirt and dove into the crystal-clear water. When his head popped back up, his grin was wide. "Perfect temperature. Come on in when you’re ready!"

Carmen finished changing Yn and carried her to the edge of the yacht. "Daddy’s waiting for you, love," she cooed as George swam closer.

"Come here, baby girl," George said, his arms outstretched.

Carefully, Carmen lowered Yn into the water, and George immediately took hold of her, holding her securely against his chest. Yn’s legs kicked instinctively, her hands splashing excitedly at the water.

"She’s a natural," George said proudly, looking up at Carmen.

"Of course, she is," Carmen teased, carefully sliding into the water to join them. "She’s got your energy."

Yn squealed happily between them, her tiny hands splashing wildly.

"You’re having fun, aren’t you?" George laughed, keeping a firm hold on her while letting her explore. "Our little water baby."

They stayed close, never letting Yn drift too far. Whenever she grew tired, one of them would pull her against their chest, offering her a break before she eagerly pushed off to "swim" again.

After about twenty minutes, Yn’s energy began to wane. George glanced at Carmen, who nodded knowingly. "Let’s get her in the floatie," she said softly.

George pulled the inflatable closer, carefully settling Yn inside it. Her chubby legs dangled through the openings, and she immediately began to kick again, giggling with delight as she floated beside them.

"I could stay here all day," George murmured, watching their daughter splash happily.

Carmen smiled, her heart warm and full. "Me too."

When Yn’s splashes grew less enthusiastic, George decided it was time for a snack. "Why don’t I get her out while you fix us something to eat?"

"Deal." Carmen kissed his shoulder before climbing out of the water, leaving a trail of droplets behind as she disappeared below deck.

George lifted Yn out of her floatie, wrapping her in a soft towel before settling on the cushioned bench. He laid her on his chest, drying her gently as she babbled softly.

"Did you like swimming, love?" he asked, tilting his head back to meet her eyes.

Yn’s response was a bright, belly-deep laugh when George began making silly faces—sticking out his tongue, puffing his cheeks, and crossing his eyes. Her laughter was music to his ears, echoing across the open water.

"You’re the best audience, you know that?" he whispered, pressing a kiss to her damp curls.

By the time Carmen returned with a plate of fresh fruit and sandwiches, George was still entertaining their daughter, her laughter ringing out again and again.

"Alright, funny guy," Carmen called playfully. "Let’s feed our little fish before she falls asleep on you."

George smiled, standing carefully with Yn still cradled against him. "Anything for my girls."

And as they enjoyed their lunch under the warm Greek sun, with Yn nestled safely between them, George knew this was a day he would remember forever.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♥︎♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Authors Note: Hey loves. I hope you enjoyed this story. My requests are always open for you.

-💙🦋

[zorosangell]

⛥ﾟ・。 kunoichi

synopsis: the story of how you met the strawhat crew (and your swordsman)

cw: lots of fluff, comfort, angst if you squint, slightest hint of simp zoro, you're a bad-ass, luffy saves you.

a/n: reposted from another account

'I can't believe I let this happen... I'm such an idiot...'

You knew the creak of a disembarking ship all too well, which only told you that the Strawhats were back way before the estimated time.

'S'what I get for trusting Kovu with gathering intel...'

With a sigh, you placed the rolled up poneglyph prints in their respective tubes and tied them to your back, silently ducking into the shadows when you heard footsteps outside the door.

You were currently aboard the Thousand Sunny, the flagship of the Strawhats, trying to steal their poneglyph prints for your boss.

It was a simple job, too. They were docked at some random island for supplies, and the reindeer who was left behind to watch the ship had fallen asleep.

No one would suspect a thing.

You should've been back on land by now, handing over the prints and finally breaking free from his abusive reign.

This job was your ticket to freedom.

Yet Kovu just had to fuck shit up.

'I can't stay holed up in this room forever. They'll get too far from land.'

With a huff, you slowly opened the door, happy to sense that no one was around.

'I need to find a way to get to the back of the ship. I can jump from there, and probably swim back.'

Quietly, you ran toward the stairs, happy you went barefoot for this mission instead of using your getas.

There was no possible way to get back there without being seen, so the least you could do was be fast about it.

You were up the stairs in the blink of an eye, and now sprinting straight for the gigantic, cannon-looking thing attached to the back of the boat.

'Almost home free...'

For the first time in years, you smiled, freedom just in reach.

Until it wasn't.

"YOHOHOHO! Um, guys! There's a lovely lady trying to sneak off the ship!" a skeleton man shrieked, landing in front of you and blocking your easy exit, drawing a sword from his cane. "AHHHH! SHE HAS THE PONEGYLPHS!"

Soul King Brook

'Dammit! Time to try the front!'

You back flipped, twisting yourself in the air so you landed the oposite way, allowing you to book it in the other direction.

"You can't be serious!" a redheaded woman exclaimed, running up the steps and to the back deck with a small orange and white staff in hand.

Cat Burgler Nami.

She ran at you, the staff extending into something much larger.

She swung, aiming for your head, but you dropped into a split just in time, using your extended leg to sweep her feet and knock her on her ass.

You grabbed her staff as he was distracted, squeezing it by accident. Out of nowhere, it extended impossibly long, shooting you into the air.

'Luck may be on my side today.'

You smirked as you flew up the side of the mast, getting about halfway up before planting your feet on it, running up the rest.

You managed to get to the yard, perching yourself so you could look for another form of escape, when you sensed something.

Nico Robin.

You jumped off the yard, grabbing onto it like a monkey bar just as four pale arms sprouted from the wood, attempting to grab you.

"Whoa! That's so cool!" a giddy voice exclaimed from below.

Your gaze quickly shifted to the deck below, only to see that trademark hat, and the notorious man that it rested on.

'Strawhat!'

You could sense another attack coming your way so you swung yourself as if you were on uneven bars and let go, flying into the air.

"Is she nuts?! She's gonna kill herself from that height!" a large man with weirdly shaped blue hair exclaimed from below.

Cyborg Franky.

The swing was too short.

You wouldn't go overboard.

'Curse these heavy cuffs!'

One silver cuff was attached to each of your ankles, their being there out of your control.

Noticing you were getting dangerously close to the ground, you imbued your legs with some haki and landed safely, creating a small crater on the grassy deck.

As the dust settled, you realized you were surrounded by Strawhat, the Pirate Hunter, and Blackfoot.

'Shit.'

"GAHHHH! SHE'S SO GORGEOUS! LOOK AT HER SHORT KIMONO!" Sanji squealed as his eyes turned into hearts, blood shooting from his nose.

Despite the blonde man's... awkward display, you sensed another pair of eyes on you, so much so that it practically burned.

The Pirate Hunter?

The second you turned to him, your heart caught in your throat.

You had seen his face on his wanted poster a few times before, and you'd be stupid to deny that he wasn't a handsome man, but looking at him in the flesh...

The pictures didn't even begin to do him justice.

And before you realized, the two of you locked eyes, and in an instant, it felt as if your legs turned to jelly.

A warm, fluttery feeling spread throughout your stomach, and it felt as if everything else in the world had stopped.

'What is feeling? Have I been poisoned?'

Just going off his glare, you could already tell that most cowered under his gaze.

So why were you reacting this way?

Shaking your head, you snapped yourself out of it, focusing on the task at hand.

'No time to gawk... back to work.'

"You... what are you doing on my ship? And why are you stealing Robin's ponegylphs?" Strawhat asked seriously, his face quite the contrast from his giddy expression before.

You sighed.

There was no way you could lie out of this mess.

"I am a kunoichi of the Iguro clan. And I have been ordered to steal your ponegylph prints," you stated, tone firm.

"Any idea why?" Nami asked, her and the rest of the crew walking over.

"None. I am left completely in the dark," you shook your head.

Your expression quickly turned determined.

"But I do know that this final job is my one way ticket out of hell, so peacefully or not, I'm leaving."

You lowered yourself into an offensive stance, glaring at Strawhat as his lips grew a smirk.

He cracked his knuckles, "Alright, then."

"Luffy, you better not hurt her!" Sanji fumed from the sidelines.

Using your haki, you peered into the near future to see him punch you with an extended arm.

'Can't have that.'

"Gum Gum Pistol!"

You tilted to the side, avoiding his hit with ease.

The entire group gasped, save for Zoro.

Strawhat's grin grew even larger, if that was possible, and he wound up both arms.

'A barrage of fists.'

"Gum Gum Gatling!"

The attack came quickly, but you dodged just like the first, flipping, lunging, and performing splits to dodge.

Imbuing your arms with haki, you grabbed one of his arms, harshly pulling him toward you.

And like a bungee cord, he came, and you slammed a flattened hand into the pressure point on his neck, knocking him out.

"Luffy!" the crew exclaimed.

Without hesitation, Zoro drew two of his swords and broke into a sprint, so you dropped his captain and drew your own katana, meeting his two with a sharp clash.

He smirked, which made that fluttery feeling return to your stomach.

"I see you use Ittoryu," he remarked with a slight rumble.

You smirked right back.

"I'm knowledgeable in the style, yes."

The both of you pushed off, returning to your stances before running at each other again.

Swords flew through the air as the both of you met the other's attack perfectly.

You lunged into an attack, but he blocked it yet again, so you hooked your outstretched foot on his ankle, deepening your lunge to pull him down.

He grunted, doing everything he could to keep his stance planted and balanced; so, you imbued your foot with haki, and he did the same for his.

He seemed almost surprised by the fact that you were still pushing your sword against his—despite your compromising position—openly demonstrating your strength, and proving it was comparable to his.

No even Tashigi could do that.

And not only was he impressed by the woman in front of him, but in silent awe.

Sure, your beauty was what caught his attention first—he was a man, after all.

Smooth, chestnut skin...

Plump lips...

Beautiful hip dips and curves...

Sparkling, (e/c) eyes, which looked as if they held stars in your gaze...

But now that he saw your fighting prowess, and raw strength along with it...

Well, you could say you had him hook, line, and sinker.

Still, you kept strong, holding your sword firm in its place as the Pirate Hunter continued to push down.

That is... until the pain equivalent to a thousand lightning bolts stemmed from your ankles.

'No! Not now!'

As you let out a cry of pain, Zoro quickly pulled away his swords, moving before the electricity could be conducted to him.

You dropped your katana, falling over as you held yourself in agony, muffling your shouts of pain on your forearm.

"What's wrong? What did you do to her, moss for brains?!" Sanji asked, yelling at the green-hared swordsman.

"I didn't do anything to her!" Zoro fired back, glaring at the cook.

He didn't know why, but seeing you in so much pain made him hurt.

It was a sharp, pulling feeling, as if his heart was on a string connected to you.

"The shocks seem to be coming from her ankles," Robin pointed out, everyone's attention turning to the cuffs that adorned your feet.

"How do we git it off her? 'Cause that looks super painful," Franky asked, grimacing at the sight of you writhing in pain.

It was then that Strawhat got back up from the ground, looking at you with a blank face.

"Oi, (y/n)? Can you hear me?" your bossed asked, his voice coming from the cuffs.

"Shit," you cursed, weakly trying to get up.

"I'll take that as a yes," you could practically hear his smirk from the other side. "Lemme cut to the chase... you failed your mission, plain and simple. So, you know the consequences."

"No!" you let out a choking gasp, trying to speak through the pain. "I've... I've worked with you for ten years! My debt is paid! We had an agreement!"

"You stupid girl!" he cackled. "I was never going to honor our agreement! You're too good of an asset to pass up! You will work under me for the rest of your pathetic, little life!"

The ship went dead silent, the Strawhat crew looking at you sorrily as tears poured down your cheeks.

Ten years of your life... gone.

All because you believed in the word of a pirate.

He was right... you really were stupid.

Painfully, you turned to Strawhat, who looked over the situation intently.

That's when you got an idea, and settled on it instantly.

Down on your hands and knees, you bowed your head to the captain, the rest of the crew letting out quiet gasps.

"Strawhat, I... hnnggh... I apologize for knocking you out earlier and... un-understand that I am in no place to ask you for such a favor but..."

You lowered your head to the ground, accepting that you would have to die in a state of embarrassment and weakness.

"Please kill me."

If you thought the crew was shocked before, they were flabbergasted now.

Even Zoro.

"I've wasted the last ten years of my life with that monster. And now that there's no end in sight, I do not wish to live."

Strawhat kept the same neutral face as he slowly approached.

You took a deep breath, smiling as you realized your suffering would soon be over, and the bliss of nothingness would welcome you.

But it never came.

Strawhat instead walked past you, silently, and you understood.

'I should've known...'

Such a favor couldn't be done for someone who just stole from him.

Suddenly, you felt the weight release form your ankles, and the shocks stop.

Your eyes shot wide as you lifted your head, snapping around to see that Strawhat had broken the cuffs off for you.

"Hey, guy!" he shouted, leaning down to the broken pieces. "I don't know if you can hear me anymore, but know that (y/n) is under my protection! And she won't be paying back your stupid debt anymore!"

You breath was trapped in your chest, unable to comprehend the words coming out of his mouth.

In one motion, a man you had just met—a man that you tried to steal from—had set you free.

After ten years of hellish torture, you were finally free.

But you still tried to compose yourself, sniffling as he turned back around to face you.

"Why didn't you kill me?" you quietly asked, looking away from the man.

His smile grew into a full on grin, "All you needed was a little help. There was no reason to kill you."

Your eyes went wide.

There was no way.

This had to be a trick.

"Next time just ask."

Your ears perked at that part.

"Next time?" you asked.

"Oh, yeah! I meant to ask," he cheesed. "Do ya wanna join my crew? It'd be so cool if we had a kunoichi!"

You were shocked to say the least, looking over the rest of the crew's faces to see that they were smiling as well.

Never before had you been met with such kindness.

They weren't even getting anything in return.

You sniffled, clearing your throat.

"I would like that," you smiled, looking down at the ground.

As he cheered, and ordered Black Leg to cook a banquet in celebration, you wiped a stray tear from your cheek, looking up at the clear, blue sky.

Strawhat Luffy would never know the bounds of your thanks.

You could never repay him.

[violant-apologia]

the FL MtG cards are here!

this is like my fourth batch, but i haven't posted any of the previous ones, so let me show off some of the cards from all the batches!

briar and his three mr stoneses! these are the face commanders of the deck. there are alternate commanders that you'll see later, but this is the pair that i like using the most often.

more masters! (and bazaar-aligned entities). all the masters in the deck are vampires, and they also all have the seal of the bazaar as a watermark. just a neat bit of visual clarity, i think!

ocs! incuding mine. not all of them will be able to make it into the deck proper (for deck size and colour identity reasons) but i'm still so happy to have them all.

basic lands: seven of each. these gave me so much hassle back when i made them, but i think they turned out well!!! apart from the edge mountains which are like 70% black.

more lands! a triplet of creatureland which i feel work very well. the rest of them are neat too. whenever i say i have an underground sea proxy in the deck, people give me a Look, but how could i not! it's a perfect fit.

dfcs! the frames of these all had to be done by hand, which always took a while. i still think they turned out incredibly well, all things considered.

more creatures!! some legendary, some not. i made the decision pretty early that if i represent a named character with a nonlegendary card, i'd just cut the "the" from the name (see sallow spirifer and voracious diplomat). i think it works!

and noncreatures!! there's a vague treasure theme in the deck (as can be seen in the fall of london, revel in riches and spirifage (as well as a lot of the creatures)) but honestly most of the cards are flavour picks. still, artificial evolution has gotten me out of some jams. fun card!

aaaand tokens! which is everything. i reckon when i play this deck properly, i'll report back any fun scrapes that anyone's characters get into. like getting turned into a bug, or killing the god of death.

again, thank everyone who contributed OCs or art to this project. i'm very happy to have so many flumblr characters appear in the deck. all of the cards have art credits on them, but some probably aren't visible in the photos. so for proper credits (and as a ping list) i've included a list below the cut:

@alexis-royce: The Ex-Disgraced Academic; Mr Pages; Mr Stones (x2); New Blood. @anomalouscorvid: Darcy, the Appalling Artist; Furnace Ancona; Mr Transport; May, the Merry Gentleman; The Seventh Coil. @capn-twitchery: Captain Twitchery Lazaret. @ciriparipa: Mr Sacks. @dualclock: Oswald, the Decadent Parvenu. elena-illustration: M. Melchor. @esteemed-excellency: Haunted One; Hiram Hargrave. @feivelynart: Black Ribbon Duellist; The Carnelian Exile; The Grand Geode; London Ascends to the Stars; Thopter Token; Voracious Diplomat. u/Galvatyr: Poor Edward. @hells-dear-heart: Isidore Carter. @letters-of-fire: Boots the Cat; Giorgione, Crooked-Cross. @madame-butterfly-knife: Inessa Fonseca, Lyon. @milleart: Snuffer. @mledoesart: Mr Eaten. @oneirotecture: Warden, Scarred Silverer. @pinchbees: Merry Darthfellow. Sarah Warrington: Orsino Elderwood. @shazzbaa: Griz, the Efficient Commissioner; Mr Fires; Stargaze; Tragic Slip; Virginia, Lord Mayor of London. @sorrow2art: Cardiac Echoes, Spymaster. StagyTryout: The Avid Horizon @sunlessveils: Parabolan Kitten. @tears-n-tarot: Charlie and Artemis Burnet-Lin. @the-insouciant-scientist: Briar Hathaway, the Apologist; Mr Stones; Noman. @the-masterless-press: Betty Horvat, Pugilist. @the-noted-collector: Endemannus Korabl'nikov. @thedeafprophet: Harper Faraday. @thegreatyin: The Bandaged Scoundrel. @thunder-threnodies: Captain Francis Morgan Dargor. @torturingpeople: Edison, the Sybaritic Laureate; The Tender Pathologist. @velvetlinedbox: Doe, Waterlogged Detective. @viric-dreams: The Boil of Calamities; Drown in Dreams; Horiatio Digby; The Six Finger'd Scrimshander. @waterlogged-detective: Brett Heroux, Dandy Detective; Marian, Prickly Bluejacket; Namkuzu, Avaricious Meddler. @yuuuyang: Sigil-Ridden Navigator; Storm, God of the Roof; The Woods in Winter. @zeebreezin: August Shaw, the Black Rook.

and @failbettergames: Arcane Signet; Artificial Evolution; Beseech the Queen; Betty Horvat, Pugilist (bg); Black Market; Blood Token; The Cave of the Nadir; Censor; The Chapel of Lights; Clothes-Colony; Clue Token; Copy Token; Darkness; The Dawn Machine; Dreamscape Artist; The Echo Bazaar; The Fall of London; Flood of Tears; Food Token; Hecuba, Doomed Obliterator; Hideaway; Hillchanger Tower; The Horticultural Show; The House of Chimes; The Implacable Detective; Inessa Fonseca, Lyon (bg); The Irrepressible Heiress; Island (x7); Jack-of-Smiles; Khan's Heart; Laughable Reconstruction; Miniature Hellworm; Mountain (x7); The Mountain of Light; Mr Chimes; Perigee of Silver; The Prismatic Dowager; Probably a Coincidence; Revel in Riches; Rise and Shine; Road // Ruin; Sallow Spirifer; Salt, God of the East; The Scuttering Company; Shapeshifter Token; Spider-Council; Spirifage; Stone, God of the South; Swamp (x7); Treasure Token (x2); Underground Sea; Venderbight.

[hyucksos]

heavy is the crown — mark lee

pairing: mark lee x f!reader genre: fantasy/supernatural, crime-action, fluff, angst, romance wc: 14.9k synopsis: a series of visions lead you to mark lee, a seemingly normal human boy with no ties to the world of the gifted— your world. as such, you're concerned as to why you keep seeing him in your dreams, and the army of wraiths that just can't seem to leave him alone despite him being powerless... or so you thought. as he joins you at the academy, you learn that there may be more to this mark lee than you thought there was. taglist: closed | @/yoonohswife @morkleesgirl @cosmoshyu @barbie4jin @sthwaaberry @ohmytyong

You had no idea what Taekwondo was. At least, not until today.

According to Donghyuck, it’s a form of martial arts, similar to the combat training you go through at the academy every day. You weren’t actually sure on whether to believe him or not considering Donghyuck is Donghyuck and his whole life before joining the academy sounded like a jumble of lies (you learnt not to trust him wholeheartedly after he convinced you that bananas were considered a delicacy in the outside world. He made you eat them with a knife and fork for a full week).

But now, as you’re sitting amongst the sea of heads in the stands overlooking the arena below, you think that Donghyuck might just be telling the truth this time.

You tug on the gloves that hug your hands and forearms, the latex that sticks uncomfortably to your skin not at all helping in easing your nerves. You rarely step foot outside the academy— not like it’s ever been restricted; you know being in unfamiliar environments could potentially spike your elemental, and you didn’t want to risk accidentally committing arson or anything like that. As much as you hate your gloves, you know they keep you safe, which is why you keep them on.

Weirdly enough, nobody seems to pay you any mind; not with your gloves, not even with the bulky silhouette of your hanbok-like uniform you knew you should have changed out of before coming here. It’s as though you’re invisible, everyone’s eyes fixed on the arena below.

“The next match is about to begin. In the blue corner representing Blue Wave Taekwondo, here to show off his agility and skill— let’s give it up for Jeno Lee!”

You startle when the people around you cheer loudly, and you slowly bring your own hands together to join in on the applause. You can’t really make out the athlete’s face as he steps into the ring, most of his features blocked by the helmet he dons. You’re curious, having never seen a sparring match that required this much gear before— then again, you suppose that's just how it goes for an ordinary human sport.

“And in the red corner, known for his speed and precision, Kick It Dojang’s very own Mark Lee! Let’s give him a warm welcome!”

The buzz of the crowd fades into the background the moment your gaze lands on the boy decked in red and white, but you don’t register it until a second later— not until he straightens his back after bowing to his opponent, and his eyes meet yours.

A sharp pain suddenly hits your temples, and you hiss as your head falls to your hands. Immediately, the world starts to warp.

You’re looking at the boy from your visions, the boy you now know as Mark Lee. His head lies in your lap, lifeless, his skin pale and cold. Shadows swirl around you, whispering things you don’t understand.

“Mark,” you breathe, voice trembling. “Wake up. I need you to wake up, please.”

But nothing.

The whispers grow louder, your own voice feeling like it's being drowned out by their presence. Your chest starts to tighten with the weight of the darkness—

The vision cuts off abruptly, and you’re left breathless as your eyes refocus to the arena before you. You’re not sure how much time has passed, but Mark is still in the ring, already in the midst of sparring with his opponent.

Your visions of him was what led you here in the first place, each one like fragments of a puzzle pulling you closer and closer. They're mostly brief, but you know they mean something, especially because of the shadows that would often surround him as they hiss with intent you couldn't decipher.

But this one was different.

For the first time, he had a name. For the first time, you saw him up close— vulnerable, his life resting in your hands as the wraiths closed in around you both.

It felt like the collision of two separate worlds that were never supposed to merge, and you know that this was no ordinary vision. Whatever it is that just happened... it was only the beginning.

And you knew you needed to let Mark know.

Mark bounces his head to the music blasting through his wired earpieces, his eyes trained on his scuffed Converses as he walks. He's been told it's a real bad habit, to not watch where he's going (especially when he couldn't even hear his surroundings most of the time), but he swears he's working on it. Plus, his headphones aren't even the noise-cancelling kind, so he's still able to hear what goes on around him, albeit only partly; like right now.

Mark stops in his tracks, pulling out one of the buds from his ears as he looks behind him.

Nothing.

It's been happening a lot recently, to get the sensation of someone whispering in his ear only for him to look up and realise that he's alone. He's tried brushing it off as a gust of wind— even a figment of his own imagination— but he knows better than to believe that, not when the night is too still, too quiet, and he's far from losing his mind.

He also knows better than to ask if anybody's there— he's seen enough horror movies to know how badly that would end for him.

Perhaps walking through the park at this hour wasn't his best idea in the first place.

Mark stares idly at the barely-lit pavement for a few seconds more before bringing his earbud back to his ear, turning back around to resume his walk— only to be met with you.

He stumbles backwards with a startled gasp, his phone almost falling from his hand before he realises that no, you're not a ghost.

You’re the girl from earlier.

Of course, Mark remembers you. How could he not, when you're the only one who stuck out like a sore thumb in a sea of spectators? It was odd enough as it is for him to be distracted right before a match, but there was just something about you that pulled him in; Mark couldn't pinpoint exactly what. Maybe it was your odd choice of attire, the traditional Korean-inspired silhouette of your all-black trench coat that cinched at your waist, or maybe it was the latex gloves that caught his attention first.

Either way, he’s feeling it again, that magnetic pull that renders him unable to look away, and it's not just because you're pretty— it feels as though there's literally something weighing him down, pulling on his chest.

Before he could question it, he notices your eyes lose focus on him, settling on something behind him instead. You’re the first one to break the silence.

"Duck."

Mark frowns. "What?"

In a split second, you're already ripping off your gloves, a flame roaring to life in your palm before you hurl the fire over his shoulder.

Mark’s confusion morphs into a split-second horror as he instinctively ducks, stumbling over his own two feet as he hears the air behind him fill with an otherworldly screech. Still, he dares himself to look over his shoulder, just in time to see multiple shadowy figures burst into flames before dissolving into nothingness.

The sight only causes Mark to fall on his butt, his neck snapping back towards you.

“What the hell was that?” His voice cracks, barely above a whisper. “And- what- what did you just do?”

You let out a shaky breath, flicking your bare wrist before you put on your glove, almost nonchalantly. Almost like you didn’t just shoot fire out of your hands.

Oh, maybe he is losing his mind.

“I’ll explain later,” you say, glancing around the deserted park. “We need to go. It’s not safe here.”

“No. No, no,” Mark stammers, breathless as he pushes himself off the ground with a shaky hand, his knees almost giving way. “There’s no later. What the hell is going on? Was that- was that real? Did I just see you- what are you-“

His voice is rising now, panic clear in his tone, but you don’t have the luxury of soothing him yet— not with the danger still lingering. You sigh softly. “Mark, just listen to me-”

“Listen to what?” he cuts in, his voice shaking. “You just threw fire. At a... at a thing I don’t even have a name for! This- this isn’t normal!”

You knew this wasn’t going to end well if you don’t act fast.

Clenching your jaw, you shut your eyes momentarily. “Renjun,” you mutter, almost in defeat. “A little help, please.”

There’s a moment of silence before the Chinese boy appears, stepping out from the shadows as if he had been waiting for his cue. His expression is calm, but his eyes narrow as he takes in the scene— Mark’s pale, terrified face, along with your desperate one.

“Really?” Renjun raises a brow. “You couldn’t handle this on your own?”

“Not now," you hiss, glancing back at Mark who looks like he’s seconds away from collapsing.

Renjun sighs, muttering something under his breath before stepping closer. His hand glows a faint green as he grabs Mark’s shoulder and reaches for you.

For the second time that night, Mark could barely register what was going on— only this time, his world starts to spin, and the ground disappears beneath him.

Soon, everything turns to black.

Mark wakes up to a bare ceiling and a pounding headache, no sign of you or that other boy with the glowing hands whose name he could barely even remember.

He lets out a relieved exhale. So it was all just a bad dream.

“Huh. She didn’t tell me you were hot.”

Mark startles at the new voice, almost falling off the bed as he sits up, his neck whipping to his left.

He doesn’t recognise who he’s looking at. The boy looks to be around his age, maybe a little younger, with chestnut-brown hair that falls messily in his eyes. He’s seated casually in a chair right next to the bed, leaning forward with an almost unnerving curiosity that makes Mark feel like he’s a rat in a lab experiment.

One thing that Mark does recognise, is the attire the boy dons, similar to the one he saw on you. Up close, he could make out the intricate design embossed in the silk material of his shirt, and it looks just like the top-half of a hanbok, except with a modern twist.

So it wasn’t a dream. Everything that happened was real. Mark feels his head start to spin even more.

Where is he, and who are you people?

“You’re at the academy. We’re… uh, I don’t really know how to answer your question without freaking you out even more, so I’m probably just gonna leave that to someone else, but I’m Donghyuck.”

“What?” Mark rasps, his eyes squinting in confusion. He didn’t actually say that out loud, did he?

“Oh, my bad,” Donghyuck quips, not really sounding all that apologetic as he leans back in his chair. “You didn’t, but I heard you anyway. Usually I’d have to be touching your arm or something, but I guess this could happen too if the other person’s energy levels are like, skyrocketing through the roof. And my knee was kinda touching your blanket, so there’s that. You’re a nervous guy, aren’t you, Mark? Huh, wait- that explains the crash course on personal space…”

“Hyuck.”

Donghyuck halts his rambling to glance over his shoulder, and Mark follows his gaze to see you.

In the midst of his confusion, he’s slightly relieved to see a familiar face. Even if said familiar face could shoot fire out of her palms and… well, killed whatever the hell that thing behind him was.

“Well, that’s my cue to go. Duty calls!” Donghyuck sings, slapping his palms on his thighs as he stands up. “See ya around, Bruce Lee.”

You spare Donghyuck a warning glance when he walks past you, and you know he’s ignoring you on purpose as he whistles his way out the door.

“Sorry about that,” you mutter as you approach Mark, opting to stand at the foot of his bed. “How are you feeling?” You ask tentatively.

“Confused. Sore. Mostly confused.” Mark shakes his head weakly, his dark hair falling in his eyes. “What the hell happened?”

“Well, you passed out, and rightfully so. Non-Gifted bodies aren’t usually able to withstand the forces of teleportation, but seeing as you made it through…” you trail off before clearing your throat, telling him your name before you continue. “This is the academy. It’s a place for… people like me; people with abilities. And that thing you saw back there— they’re Umbras. Wraiths that feed off energy. They’re dangerous, and they were after you.”

Mark’s brows knit together. “Me? Why me? I don’t have… abilities, or whatever it is you’re talking about. I’m just a normal guy.”

You hesitate as you choose your next words carefully. “I thought so too. But I’ve been having visions of you for weeks, Mark, and it wasn’t until today did I realise that my visions of the Umbras and you… they’re all connected.” You start to pace around the room. “You have to be possessing some sort of energy for them to be after you in the first place. Are you certain you’re powerless?”

You stop right in front of him, and Mark stares at you like you’re crazy.

“Um, I’m pretty sure.”

You huff in frustration, running a hand through your hair. You know that it isn’t his fault, but he isn’t giving you anything to work with.

“So, uh, the fire thing you did back there. That was your ability, right?”

You turn back to Mark, who’s still looking at you. He’s taking this surprisingly well, you think, though it does seem that he’s still recovering from shock.

“Yes. I’m a pyrokinetic. We all have different abilities here. Donghyuck's is psychometry, and if you remember Renjun, he teleports.”

Mark nods slowly. “So you’re kinda like Elsa, huh? But with fire instead of ice? Wait, no- you’re Azula.”

You tilt your head in confusion. “Who’s Azula?”

Mark parts his lips before he closes them, uttering a quiet nevermind under his breath. You notice the flush that creeps up his neck, and for some reason, the sight brings a warm sensation to your own cheeks.

He clears his throat. “So, that explains the gloves?”

You glance down at your hands, fingers wringing one another before letting them fall to your sides. “Well, yes. They help to keep things under control. My ability can get a little unpredictable if I’m not careful.”

“Unpredictable how?”

You hesitate, unsure of how much to reveal. You weren’t even expecting for him to be asking this many questions— most people didn’t— but you figure that’s probably because something that’s ordinary in your world must seem extraordinary in his. “Fire isn’t exactly forgiving. It doesn’t listen well, and if I lose focus, it can spread. The gloves act as a barrier, like a safety net.”

Mark is a silent for a while. “Does it hurt?” he asks, his voice quieter now.

The question surprises you, and for a moment, you’re not sure how to respond. You’ve never had anyone ask you that before. “It used to,” you admit. “But I’ve trained for years to handle it. The pain doesn’t really bother me anymore.”

Before he could respond, you clear your throat. “You should, um, get some rest. I’m sure Headmaster Kang would want to talk to you after this. Do you need anything else?”

“No, no, I’m good.” Mark finally glances away, letting out a slow exhale as he rests on the headboard behind him.

You nod before excusing yourself out of the room, your gloved hands instinctively rising to your cheeks. They’re still warm from before— oddly warm. It’s strange, because you’ve always only been able to conjure heat with your palms, so you’re not sure if this is some new side effect… or something else entirely.

You’re sure it’s the former. What else could it be?

Mark has never had that many friends growing up. Sure, he’s constantly surrounded by people— an inevitability when his entire life is just training after training, and tournament after tournament— but even then, he still finds a way to keep to himself. There’s enough pressure trying to succumb to his own expectations of being the best athlete he could be, and the last thing he needs is the added weight of others’ opinions or distractions that could potentially pull him off course.

That, and the fact that he’s been told that he’s far too awkward, but that’s never been a problem for him— at least, until now.

Donghyuck is chattering away at a speed Mark couldn’t really comprehend, Renjun only nodding occasionally to show that he’s listening as he sips on his soup. You, on the other hand, don’t even seem all that interested, barely even reacting to Donghyuck's story about how he accidentally overheard someone’s entire dream during a nap the other day.

With both you and Renjun’s lack of reaction, he’s starting to think that this is just how Donghyuck is on a day-to-day basis.

“I swear, I wasn’t even trying this time,” Donghyuck exclaims, gesturing wildly with his spoon. “One minute, I’m dreaming about ice cream, and the next, I’m trapped in this weird universe about werewolves mating. Do you know how traumatising that is? What kind of fantasies is she having?” He visibly shudders. “Ugh. Should I go through solar confinement so it stops?”

“Hyuck, come on. Why would you want to put yourself through that?” You finally speak up, concern lacing your tone. “Plus, I doubt it’ll do much to help with your… questionable dreams.”

“It wasn’t even my dream!” Donghyuck whines, and it is only when Mark notices the small upturn of your lips does he realise that you were just pulling your friend’s leg.

It’s the first time he’s seen you smile. He thinks it’s kind of nice.

“What’s the solar confinement?” He finally asks, letting his curiosity get the best of him.

“Oh, just this lovely punishment Headmaster Kang came up with." Donghyuck rolls his eyes. "You stand in the sun for hours, no shade, no escape. Supposedly it 'clears your head,' but I think it’s just a slow way to turn someone into a human oven. Huh, I think I’ll take werewolf dreams over that any day.” Donghyuck shudders again. “But hey, speaking of the headmaster, have you met him yet?”

“Yeah. Yesterday, actually.” Mark spares you a glance. “He told me that it’d be better for me to stay until we figure out why the wraiths are after me. It’s safer that way. That’s why I’m still here, I guess,” he chuckles awkwardly.

After you left Mark at the infirmary yesterday, you went straight to Headmaster Kang to inform him what had happened. You brought Renjun along with you, mostly because you were terrified of being reprimanded for bringing in a Non-Gifted to the academy, but Headmaster Kang took it surprisingly well. You suppose it was the urgency of the entire situation; the Gifted and Non-Gifted are supposed to coexist in two separate worlds, and now that one is beginning to bleed into the other, there seemed to be only one way to contain it: by bringing Mark in.

“Yeah, that makes sense. Don’t worry about it, though. The Umbras won’t be able to get to you here,” Donghyuck assures. “But seriously, your energy must have been super strong for them to reach you in the first place.”

“Oh, I’m not- I’m not a Gifted,” Mark corrects him. “I mean, I don’t know. That’s what we’re trying to figure out, I guess.”

“Woah, really? I kinda thought that was how I managed to read you yesterday without even touching you,” Donghyuck hums, curious. “Mind if I read you now, Newbie? Maybe that could help in finding your elemental.”

“Oh, uh- sure.” Mark outstretches his palm across the table hesitantly, and Donghyuck places his hand on top immediately. As much as Mark was expecting to feel something— maybe a small jolt of static or any other kind of sensation— it’s surprisingly painless, and Donghyuck withdraws his hand with knitted brows.

“Weird. It’s all fuzzy. I can’t see anything,” he mumbles. “I wonder what changed.”

“I have ADHD,” Mark admits. “Maybe that could be it?”

“Ah, yeah!” Donghyuck clicks his tongue, snapping his fingers. “A lot of things going up there, huh? I get it. I’m sure it’ll come to you eventually. You know, I was a late bloomer, too. Got my abilities at twenty. I got admitted to the psych ward because people thought I was crazy, when the whole time I just had abilities. Headmaster Kang bailed me out-“

“He didn’t bail you out, Hyuck. It wasn't a prison.”

“-now here I am!” Donghyuck finishes off his speech, ignoring you.

You shake your head, scoffing in amusement, and the table is finally silent when everyone returns to their food.

If Mark wasn’t aware of his surroundings then, he definitely is now.

The dining area isn’t that big, housing only about twenty other people or so— most of which are casting him less-than-subtle stares behind their bowls. He gets it, though— in a school this small, word definitely would have gotten out fast. He’s sure the students here wouldn’t be too thrilled to learn that a Non-Gifted is among them, and the fact scares Mark by a little.

“Ignore them,” you mutter from beside him when Renjun and Donghyuck escalate into yet another argument. Mark knows you aren’t referring to them.

He chuckles. “You read minds too?”

“No.” You snort. “Your face says it all. They just aren’t used to seeing new people, is all. You have us, Mark. You’ll be fine.”

If it weren’t for the smile you gave his way, Mark is sure he would’ve had a hard time believing you.

✦ ✦ ✦

Scratch that— Mark doesn’t think he’ll be fine.

Seated uneasily in the headmaster’s office, he couldn’t help but to feel out of place. The walls are lined with dark wood panels and rows of ancient books, the kind that seemed to know secrets no one dared to ask about. For some reason, he finds it difficult to tear his gaze away from them, specifically the one with the weathered, leather spine tucked away at the very end.

Mark has no idea why he's staring at it intently— it could be because out of everything else in this room, that odd-looking book seems to be the most interesting. He must have been looking at it for too long, because for a fleeting moment, the book starts to glow, only for it to disappear after a blink.

Mark takes that as a sign to look away. His body must still be struggling to adapt to everything that's been happening in the last 48 hours to the point of him seeing things.

He had been called in right after breakfast, where he had to split ways with you, Donghyuck and Renjun as you carried on with your daily activities. The floor-length windows of the office gives him the perfect view of the academy grounds below, where students are scattered across the courtyard as they practice their respective abilities.

Instinctively, his eyes search for you, quickly spotting you alone at the edge of the training field. A flicker of fire ignites in your palm before it disappears completely.

“Mark.” Headmaster Kang’s voice brings him back to the present. Mark looks away from the window. “Let’s go through your background again. Where did you say you were from?”

“Seoul, sir,” he answers stiffly. “But, uh… I don’t really know much about where I came from before that. I was adopted when I was a baby.”

The old man purses his lips in thought. “And your adoptive family? Were there any unusual experiences growing up? Any unexplained phenonema that could suggest why you might be a target for Umbras?”

“Umbras,” Mark repeats, the term still foreign on his tongue. He shakes his head. “No, sir. At least, not that I know of. I mean, my parents have always joked that that I was… emotional, I guess? They said that I had this weird way of making everyone around me feel what I was feeling,” he laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “But I don’t suppose that would explain why shadow demons are chasing after me now?”

Headmaster Kang smiles, the upward tug of his lips softening his otherwise hard features. Admittedly, the gesture helps in making Mark feel a little less jittery, though the sharp glint in his eyes remain stern.

“Listen, Mark. The world of the Gifted is vast and enigmatic. Each of my students here possess their own unique abilities that sets them apart from the rest. While it is not common for abilities to manifest at your age, no one has ever ruled out that possibility.” He leans back in his chair, the leather creaking under his weight. “The Gifted have existed for hundreds of years now, yet there are still so many things we can’t explain due to the nature of our bodies. They’re constantly changing, evolving, defying the boundaries of what we think we know.”

The information is a lot to digest, so Mark doesn’t say anything.

“You can start off by looking into your biological family. See if they have any ties to our world— that might give more insight as to why these things are taking place. The library is free for you to visit, and if you have any questions, do not hesitate to ask me,” Headmaster Kang continues. “For now, we’ll focus on integrating you into the academy. You’re going to need this-“

He pulls out a drawer, taking out a neatly folded fabric before setting it on the table. Mark recognises it instantly.

“I understand you practiced Taekwondo before coming here. Discipline and control are central to martial arts, qualities that align well with what we value here.”

Mark nods, unsure of how else to respond. “I’ve been doing it for years. It’s… grounding.”

“Good. Then that foundation will serve you well.” Another faint smile flickers on Headmaster Kang’s face as he nods towards the uniform. “You’ll begin training tomorrow. Even if your elemental remains dormant for now, it’s important to cultivate focus and discipline. Those qualities may unlock more than you realise.”

Mark nods slowly, picking up the silk material. The uniform is heavier than he expected, like it carries the weight of something much larger than himself.

“Thank you,” he says softly. It feels strange to be grateful for something he didn’t ask for.

The next couple of days seemed to pass by in a blur, at least for Mark.

Life had settled into a strange rhythm; he would spend his mornings in physical training, afternoon in power control (something he didn’t even have, leaving him to do more physical training), and evenings sparring under the watchful eyes of the instructors. As gruelling as it was, it gave him less time to think about the wraiths that were after him— or why he was even here in the first place.

The midday sun beats down on the training grounds as students gather to observe the mock battle that was about to begin. You spare Mark a glance, his face passive as he waits for your instructor’s signal, but you can feel it— the sharp undercurrent of nervous energy radiating off him, and it prickles on your senses like electricity.

You blink, trying to shake it off, but it’s hard to ignore the sudden wave of unease that settles around you, almost like a weighted blanket that only grows heavier with each passing second.

Your force yourself to regulate your breathing, not realising that you’re on the verge of hyperventilating until you hear Mark calling your name.

“Hey, you okay?” He turns to you, eyes wide with concern as he ducks slightly to look at your face. You can feel his fingers circle around your wrist even despite the latex barrier between your skin and his fingertips, but it doesn’t do much to bring you comfort.

You part your lips to answer, but nothing comes out. “I-“

“Mark and Younghyun, to the center of the ring,” your instructor’s voice calls out, causing Mark to inhale sharply as he reluctantly lets go of your hand. He casts Donghyuck beside you a look, who nods in understanding as he pulls you closer towards him.

“You alright?” Donghyuck mutters quietly, his arm still around your shoulder.

You nod wordlessly as you exhale, the heaviness finally leaving your chest. With your vision refocusing, you’re only now realising that Mark is no longer beside you, already standing at the edge of the ring as he prepares himself for the first round. “Just- felt lightheaded all of a sudden.”

Donghyuck is silent for a while until he speaks up. “I felt it too, you know.”

You tense as you turn your head to face him, but his eyes are not on you, rather, on Mark. You didn’t even notice how unusually grim Donghyuck is being, unlike his usual self, and that instantly tells you that something is wrong.

“I can’t read you at all.” He finally looks at you, his hand tapping your shoulder before he drops it completely. “Same thing happened with him during breakfast the other day, remember?”

You swallow. “But Mark said he had that- that thing. It’s a condition, right?”

“Yeah, but I literally managed to read him through his blanket on his first day. Could practically feel the nerves bouncing off the guy.” Donghyuck looks around before he exhales, dropping his voice. “I think his elemental has something to do with his emotions. You felt it, I felt it. And now that he left, the feeling’s gone. Don’t you find it weird?”

“I…” you trail off, shaking your head as you try to piece things together in your head. “It’s just, his energy shifts, right? Are you saying that it’s more than his emotions just affecting him… it affects everyone around him as well?”

“Exactly. It’s not easy to balance both your energy and emotions, especially when you don’t know what’s happening. I’m betting that’s why he’s been out of touch with his abilities.” Donghyuck nods towards the ongoing match, and you follow his gaze, looking at Mark and Younghyun as they circle the ring, waiting for the other to throw the first move.

This isn’t the first time these two are sparring each other. You don’t know Younghyun that well, nothing more than the fact that he’s a shadow manipulator, and that he has a particular habit of taunting Mark every chance he gets. They’re always subtle, but you can tell it gets under Mark’s skin every time— including now, as you could tell based on the downturn of his lips.

“Come on, Lee,” Younghyun calls out, voice dripping with mockery. “Thought you’d put up more of a fight. Or are you too scared to use your powers? Oh, wait,” he snickers to himself.

Mark’s jaw tightens. The comment is meant to get a reaction— and it’s working. Without warning, he throws the first punch, a straight fist aimed right towards Younghyun’s face.

The boy only barely manages to sidestep, the contact knocking him off-balance momentarily. The air starts to grow heavy, more volatile, and with the way Younghyun’s smirk drops slightly, you know he feels it too.

Donghyuck might just be right.

“Nice try.” Younghyun recovers quickly. “But you’re gonna have to do better than that,” he says lowly, stretching out his arms as he directs his own shadow towards Mark, the silhouette solidifying before it lurches foward and grabs a hold of Mark’s limbs, pulling him down harshly. He loses his balance, the sound of him hitting the ground making you gasp.

“Oh, c’mon!” Younghyun laughs as he stands at Mark’s feet. “Are you just gonna keep lying there like an injured lamb? Tsk. Powerless,” he taunts some more, garnering a few chuckles from the crowd.

Mark didn’t seem to like that.

“Shut the hell up,” he grits as he gets up. The air around him seems to hum, thick with unseen energy. The crowd falls silent, their laughter replaced by gasps of alarm, but Mark doesn’t notice it— until it happens.

A burst of white light explodes outward as he lunges towards Younghyun, the energy radiating like a shockwave, causing the latter to fly backwards before landing on the ground with a loud thud. The air still crackles with tension as Mark stumbles back, his heart pounding fiercely in his chest as he looks at his hands, trembling with the unfamiliar power.

“What the…” he whispers to himself, slowly looking back to his opponent who still lies unconscious, the only reassurance of him being alive the faint rise and fall of his chest. Relief washes over Mark for a moment, before it’s quickly overshadowed by the feeling of dread as the murmurs around him grow louder, the words “dangerous” and “unstable” cutting through the noise.

He looks around helplessly, before his eyes land on you, already looking at him with concern painted on your features. You step towards him, but Mark stumbles back, his stomach churning.

“Mark,” you say softly, but he shakes his head, feeling his eyes burn with tears he knows he shouldn’t let fall in front of you, so he does the next best thing:

He runs away.

✦ ✦ ✦

You find Mark in his room, his back turned to you as he frantically packs his bags.

“Wha- are you leaving?”

Your voice causes him to stall before his hands fall in defeat, and he finally turns to you.

Based on the redness of his eyes, you know that he’s been crying, and the sight tugs on your heartstrings. It’s a deep, unshakeable sadness that wells up in you, and you know it isn’t his emotions bleeding into yours this time— it’s all yours.

“I shouldn’t be here anymore,” he says weakly, his voice hoarse. “I can’t— not if I’m hurting people along the way. I didn’t mean to hurt him-“

“I know. I know, Mark.” You step towards him slowly, and he lets you, though he’s quick to avoid your gaze as he looks at his shoes. “It’s not your fault.”

The lights in the room start to flicker as he takes in a shaky breath, the dim glow struggling to stay steady. With each passing second, the flickering intensifies, plunging the room into near darkness before the bulbs flare brightly.

“Look at me?” You plead, gently cupping his jaw to tilt his face towards you. His tear-filled eyes gaze longingly into yours, and you make sure he doesn’t look away as you drop your arm, tugging the glove off your other hand.

Conjuring a small flame in your right palm, you raise back your hand, letting it hover steadily between the two of you. His eyes naturally follow the fire that dances in your palm, the orange hue reflecting in his glassy irises.

“Breathe,” you say gently. As the flame pulses and sways in a slow, rhythmic pattern, his breathing begins to match its cadence, each inhale and exhale drawing closer to the calm tempo you’ve set for him, until the room eventually stops flickering and returns to normal.

“Your abilities don’t make you a threat, Mark.” Your voice wavers, but you hold his gaze, feeling your own tears well in your eyes. In a way, Mark Lee reminds you of yourself— alone, misunderstood, burdened with a gift you never asked for. You understand his fear, because it mirrors your own; and it’s taken you years alone to realise that it doesn’t define nor destroy you.

“It can be tamed,” you continue softly, and the flame in your palm steadies, its gentle glow casting shadows across his pained features. You fight back the urge to hold him, to smoothen out the worry between his eyebrows, and tell him that it’s alright. So instead, you settle for a smile, hoping that your words are able to convey what actions couldn’t.

“Just like mine.”

You’re looking at Mark again, only this time, he’s standing at the other end of the room, far away from you. His features are illuminated by the moonlight breaking through the cracked window next to him, his fists glowing faintly with a power he’s only beginning to understand.

You try to call out for him, but your voice comes out as muffled. The towering shapes that surround the two of you feel vaguely familiar, along with the dust that swirls in the air and the faint smell of musty paper, but the way they’re constantly twisting and blurring into nothingness makes it hard for you to pinpoint exactly where you are.

One by one, the Umbras start to appear, and you can’t see Mark anymore with how quickly they’ve encircled him. The air is heavy, suffocating, and that’s when you hear it; a familiar voice:

“Engulf him.”

The shadows start to hiss, the sharp noise growing louder and louder with each passing second. Instinctively, you bring your hands to your ears, only for pain to flare instantly as your skin burns on contact. With a gasp, you let your arms fall, and that’s when you notice the absence of your gloves, your palms raw and red.

An estranged cry leaves your lips as the burning sensation starts to spread beneath your skin, causing you to fall to your knees. You want to call out for Mark, but you can’t, your lips feeling as though they’ve been sewn shut so tightly that you can’t do anything else but to stare helplessly as the Umbras consume him.

You jolt awake with a scream, clutching your arms as the phantom burn lingers. It was just a nightmare, but not just any ordinary one— it was another vision.

The sudden banging on your door causes you to jump out of your skin, and you’re hesitant to move from your bed, given the state of your own frantic self. It is only when you hear the familiar voice at the other side do you finally stumble to open it, and you’re instantly met with Renjun’s panicked face, his fists raised and glowing.

He sighs upon seeing you, dropping his hands. “God, I was literally about to break into your room! What took you so lo- are you crying?” Renjun halts amidst his rambling when he takes in your tear-stricken face, something you didn’t even realise until he pointed it out.

“I just, uh, had a bad dream,” you mutter, quickly wiping your eyes with your bandaged hands. You had switched from sleeping with your gloves on to wrapping them with gauze, something Donghyuck had taught you when he noticed how irritated your skin would get after wearing them for a full day. You still have yet to master wrapping them perfectly, the fabric currently falling apart at the seams, but at least they keep your palms covered.

Renjun shakes his head, as though snapping himself out of distraction. “Listen, it’s Mark.”

Your heart drops upon hearing his name.

Renjun continues. “Something’s going on. I noticed his door was left ajar when I left my room to go to the washroom, so I knocked to see if he was okay, but he wasn’t inside. I don’t know where he is.”

You swallow hard, and it feels like bile has risen in your throat at the thought of your vision coming true. You shove past Renjun wordlessly, stumbling into the hallway.

“Where are you going?” He calls out after you, but you don’t respond, your feet carrying you towards the end of the corridor. Your steps only falter when you reach a junction, and you close your eyes as you try to steady your breathing. There’s a tug in your mind, like an invisible string that’s pulling you towards the shadowy corners of the academy, and that’s when it hits you: the cracked window. The dust. The smell of old paper. 

“Are you seriously not gonna answer me?” Renjun pants when he catches up to you, clearly annoyed. “I know you’re worried, but running aimlessly won’t help you find-“

“I know where he is,” you cut him off, turning around.

Renjun frowns before his expression eases into one of realisation. “Your visions…”

You nod before taking off towards the east wing, not looking behind to check if he is following after you.

You don’t remember the last time you visited the old library— or anyone, for that matter. Since the fire that ravaged the east wing a few years back, the entire area was deemed unsafe, left to rot after the surviving books were moved to a newer wing.

But it wasn’t just the fire that left the library abandoned; more so, the rumours that followed. The timing of the incident had been too coincidental, perfectly lining up to the time when your abilities first spiraled out of control. No one had ever outright accused you, but the rumours were enough to make you feel their suspicions.

You’d avoided the place since, the unspoken blame too much of a weight for you to bear. But now, as you approach the charred doorway, your stomach churns at the thought of stepping back inside.

Taking in a shaky breath, you push the heavy door open, the hinges creaking as it reveals the forgotten library.

It’s there, just like you envisioned earlier, which is why it doesn’t take you long to spot Mark, standing in between the bookshelves as his eyes and fists glow a bright white. Dark shapes swirl around him like smoke, some darting towards him only to be repelled away at the last second, as though he’s being protected by an unseen force.

Now this, you didn’t see in your vision.

“Mark?” You call out, your voice trembling as you slowly inch towards him, but Renjun quickly catches your wrist.

You turn to meet his worried gaze. “I don’t think- should I go call Headmaster Kang?”

You stall. “If we tell him, I’d have to explain how I know. You know he doesn’t know about my visions,” you reply hesitantly, wriggling your hand out of his grasp. “I can’t afford to do that right now.”

“Yes, but-“ Renjun is insistent before he lets out a frustrated sigh, knowing that nothing he could say would change your mind.

“I can’t go back to confinement, Jun,” you say quietly, and Renjun looks away.

“I know,” he mutters. “At least let me call Hyuck?”

You nod hesitantly, and Renjun gives you one last look before he raises his fists, conjuring a portal and disappearing.

You turn back to Mark, keeping your eyes on him as you unravel the bandages on your hands. You let them fall to the floor before you raise your arms, your palms heating up instantly.

As though sensing the shift in the air, the Umbras turn to you, and you barely notice Mark’s protective barrier start to flicker uncertainly before the wraiths lunge towards you at full speed.

“Not today,” you mutter through gritted teeth as you flick your wrists, sending a jet of fire through them before they screech, eventually disappearing into nothingness.

It feels never-ending, and you know you’re growing tired as the heat of the flames intensify the more you attack. Still, you ignore the pain that sears your skin, letting the adrenaline take over until the last of the wraiths vanish with a hiss, and you finally allow yourself to drop your arms.

You pant heavily, only now registering the state of the charred library shrouded with smoke; as though the fire from years ago had come alive before your very eyes.

Your knees buckle, and despite the pain that seizes your entire body, you crawl towards Mark, shifting so his head could fall to your lap. His lips are pale, body unnervingly still, but he’s still breathing; albeit shallowly.

“Mark,” you croak, your trembling hands hovering over his face as though you’re unsure of what to do with them. Your bandages are somewhere on the ground behind you, and you don’t want to accidentally burn him by touching him. “Wake up. I need you to wake up, please.”

This scene feels oddly familiar.

You fight back a choked sob, but it doesn’t do much in stopping the tears that fall down your cheeks. They burn, like acid, and you quickly wipe them away with your sleeves.

You vaguely hear someone calling your name behind you, registering the familiar voice of Donghyuck before he skids to a crouch next to you. You tilt your chin to look at him, and his lips part in shock upon taking in your face.

“Help him, please.” You cut Donghyuck off just as he’s about to say your name, and he swallows before nodding grimly, beckoning for Renjun to come over.

You scoot away to give the boys some space, and your eyes fall to your hands on your lap. They sleeves of your shirt partly obscure them, but the burns still peek through, a stark reminder of the flames you wielded, and a haunting proof of how your even visions aren’t able to save Mark.

Mark thinks he’s going crazy.

He had woken up in the infirmary with no recollection of what had happened, the marks on his skin the only evidence that something did actually happen in the time he was unconscious, but that isn’t even the worst part.

The worst part is that he hasn’t seen you since he woke up, and neither Donghyuck nor Renjun is telling him where you disappeared off to.

He finds himself in Headmaster Kang’s office instead, and the downturn of the man’s lips tells Mark that he isn’t here for a casual chat.

“So tell me, Mark. How did you find yourself in the old library?” Headmaster Kang rests his elbows on his desk as he leans forward.

Mark swallows nervously, his head hanging low. “I- I’m sorry, sir. I don’t remember.”

Headmaster Kang nods. “I understand that you’re still trying to adapt to your abilities, which might explain why these things are happening. How has training been going for you? Good?”

“I-“ Mark pauses. The answer is at the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t possibly admit that to the headmaster, can he? How could he say that no, nothing has been going well for him ever since discovering his abilities, that his life has turned to literal shit since the day he knocked that kid Younghyun off his feet?

Despite his struggle to answer, Headmaster Kang smiles, as though knowing exactly what it is he wanted to say. Mark wonders if the he could read minds like Donghyuck.

“We’ve never had an Umbra attack at the academy before. This is a first, and I reckon it has something to do with your emotional resonance. As you already know, these things feed off energy, which could explain how they’ve managed to break through the perimeter.”

Mark clears his throat. “I’m sorry.”

“No, no. Don’t be.” Headmaster Kang shakes his head. “This is a school. An instituition. I never want my students to feel unsafe at the one place that’s supposed to protect them.”

Mark nods, not really sure where the conversation is heading towards.

“That said, a wraith attack is to be taken very seriously. It was fortunate that nobody else got hurt-“

Relief washes through Mark momentarily. That would mean that you’re okay, right?

“-but for the sake of ensuring the safety of the other students, I’m afraid that I’d have to take action to make sure this doesn’t happen again. I hope you understand this isn’t mean to be a punishment, Mark, more so a protective measure to help regulate your abilities.” The headmaster pauses, as though thinking of the next words he’s going to say.

“Solar confinement,” he finally says, leaning back in his chair. “A method designed to stabilise energy levels. It’s been used in the past for students who needed time to regain control over your powers. In fact, your friends have gone through this as well, so I’m sure you are familiar with it, yes?”

Mark stiffens, his fists curling on his lap. Of course, he’s familiar with it— it’s the one thing Donghyuck wouldn’t stop talking about ever since he joined this academy.

“You’re isolating me,” he responds, his tone stiff but measured.

“No, Mark. Helping,” the headmaster corrects. “Think of it as a period of rehabilitation. You’d be surprised what four hours could do in stabilising your inner elemental.”

Mark inhales sharply, knowing that he isn’t left with a choice. “I understand, sir.”

“Good. You can head down to the courtyard and start when the clock hits twelve. I’ll have someone check in on you hourly until it’s done. And Mark?” Headmaster Kang’s tone shifts, the gentleness replaced with a sharper edge. “Don’t disappoint me.”

Mark could only afford to nod robotically before he leaves the office, each step heavier than the last. At the rate he’s going, he’s not sure if any type of confinement could help with the inner turmoil he’s feeling.

✦ ✦ ✦

The headmaster lied.

It only took one hour in for Mark to realise that no, nobody was going to check in on him as he’s standing in the middle of the courtyard, alone and on the verge of passing out under the intense summer heat.

It’s also a weekend, which explains why the academy feels so desolate— not like that would have helped in any way, whatsoever. He’s convinced that this so-called ‘rehabilitation’ is nothing more but a thinly veiled punishment for luring the wraiths onto school grounds; as though he even meant to do it on purpose in the first place.

If it weren’t for his recently-discovered abilities— emotional resonance, or whatever— he’s sure he wouldn’t even be able to make it to the twenty minute mark, let alone a whole hour. And with three more to go, he doesn’t think even his inner elemental could help him with that.

He doesn’t notice Donghyuck walk up to him until the boy taps him on his shoulder, grimacing upon taking in his face.

“Headmaster Kang told me to come tap you out,” he says cautiously.

Mark’s hazy mind barely processes Donghyuck’s words. He’s pretty sure it’s only been two and a half hours, but he couldn’t find it in him to care. His body gives out immediately, collapsing under the weight of exhaustion. A wave of nausea hits him, and before he could stop it, the bile rises quickly in his throat before it spills all over the ground in a violent retch.

Donghyuck cringes, crouching hesitantly before handing him a bottle of water. “Pretty rough, huh?”

“Shut up,” he heaves, taking a mouthful of water before spitting it out. “How come?”

“Um,” Donghyuck seems hesitant to continue, but he sighs eventually. “Listen, I’m not supposed to tell you this, so you didn’t hear this from me! But, uh… a transaction, of sorts, has been made. Believe me, I was not on board with it at all, but she was just so fucking adamant-“

“What?”

Donghyuck glances around, as though to make sure nobody is listening. “Someone, made a deal with the headmaster to let her do isolation instead of you doing the full four hours,” he says in a hushed whisper. “You know, someone being-“

“Yeah, I got it, Hyuck,” Mark answers gruffly, getting back to his feet unsteadily as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “Where is she?”

“I-“ Donghyuck’s jaw tightens before he swallows. “The old library. When she heard that you were going to be put in solar confinement, she marched straight to the headmaster’s office to tell him to lighten your sentence and to give it to her instead. I don’t- damn it,” he sighs, struggling to form his own words as he runs a hand through his hair in frustration. “She’s been avoiding you. Blaming herself for the shit that went down. It’s like she thinks her visions were promises that she broke, or something. I keep telling her that it’s not her fault, but she just won’t listen. She’s convinced that staying away from you is the only way to keep you safe.”

And suddenly, everything comes rushing down to him. The Umbras that surrounded him, the white light that blinded him. The sound of your sobs, the feeling of his head in your lap. The way your voice cracked when you whispered his name, filled with guilt and fear.

Mark lets out a shaky exhale before he moves past Donghyuck, but the boy stops him.

“Not now,” he grits through his teeth, his eyes flickering upward momentarily. Mark follows his gaze, seeing the headmaster’s shadow behind the glass window at the very top floor. “You’re a walking target now, remember that. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“Don’t have to worry about that." Mark shrugs Donghyuck’s hand off his shoulder. "From now on, I’ll just do everything my way.”

You can’t feel anything in your palms.

You’ve been trying to conjure fire for the past twenty minutes, the emptiness in your hands gnawing on the edges of your sanity. It’s not just the absence of heat— it’s the absence of you, and in the suffocating quiet of the old library, it seems that that part of you has been snuffed out.

But this is what you asked for, right?

Mark had gotten hurt because of you; went into solar confinement because of you. If isolating yourself means not crossing paths with him anymore, maybe you could stop feeling the guilt of failing. Maybe you won’t have to see Mark hurt again and know it’s because of you.

Maybe you’ll finally have some peace.

Still, there’s a nagging voice at the back of your head that refuses to be silenced. The voice you heard in your vision, commanding the army of Umbras to engulf Mark— you know it wasn't just another cruel trick of your mind; not when it's so familiar, so authoritative.

You didn't want to believe it, but in the cold, soulless library, the truth suddenly hits you with a sickening clarity. That voice you heard in your vision was the voice you hear every single day.

It was Headmaster Kang.

Your heart thumps wildly against your chest, and you almost miss the creak of the door behind you in the midst of your revelation, only frantically blinking your thoughts away when you see a white light illuminate the otherwise dark room. You don’t need to turn around to know who it is.

“Mark.” Your voice is hoarse from disuse. “You shouldn’t be here.”

He ignores you, stepping further into the room towards where you are in between the shelves. His gaze sweeps over the makeshift cot you’ve been using, the scattered bandages, the faint scorch marks on the walls— your desperate attempts to summon even a spark.

You finally turn to him, and Mark inhales sharply upon taking in your features. Your eyes are swollen like you’ve been crying, and the streaks on your cheeks are raw, angry, as though your tears carried the heat of your abilities, stinging your skin as they fell.

Your vision lands on the orb of light that hovers above his palm; small, but bright enough to light the space in between the both of you. “How come?”

“I don’t know,” he replies just as quietly. The light disappears as he puts down his hand, leaving the room basking in a dim light only illuminated by the moon outside. “Guess confinement didn’t work for me.”

You nod stiffly, averting your gaze to the window to your left when Mark kneels before you. He doesn’t miss the way you clench your fists tightly.

“Let me see,” he murmurs as he reaches towards your hands.

You hesitate at first, but you don’t know what it is that makes you give in finally— whether it’s the weight of your own exhaustion, or the way your name so softly escapes his lips that prompts you to extend your arms towards him.

Mark gently takes your hands into his, the warmth of his touch grounding you despite the rawness of your skin. Pulling out a roll of fresh bandages from his pockets, he begins to wrap them.

“You know,” he starts lightly. “I used to do this a lot in Taekwondo. Bandaging hands, I mean. Usually for someone who landed a bad punch.” He glances at you through his lashes, as though trying to gauge if his attempt at humour has landed. “Though I don’t suppose you punched anyone, right?”

You chuckle softly, sniffing as you raise your free hand to dry your cheek. Mark gives you a lopsided smile before he continues, and the both of you settle into a silence.

“Does the headmaster know you’re here?” You ask, just as he’s about to finish with your second hand. Mark replies with a hum.

“I’m sure he does. He’s been watching me like a hawk the entire day. Listen…” he trails off, his eyes fixed on your hand still in his. He’s done with wrapping you up, but he doesn’t let go, his fingers fumbling over yours as though he’s thinking of something. You don’t mind.

“I know this is just how things go here, but do you really think that makes it right? Why does he keep throwing us into confinement instead of teaching us how to control our abilities?” He asks, frustration evident in his tone. Mark finally lets go of your hands, but his gaze lingers on them.

You part your lips to reply, but Mark beats you to it.

“And don’t even get me started on you.” His voice drops as he meets your eyes. “Donghyuck told me what you did. What the hell were you thinking? Throwing yourself into confinement- do you have any idea how dangerous that is?”

You could feel your tears start to burn, but you’re fixed on not letting them fall as you look down on your lap. “I was just trying to protect you.”

“Protect me?” Mark laughs bitterly. “You think isolating yourself, weakening yourself, is protecting me? You think I’d want that?”

“It wasn’t just about you, Mark,” you argue, though your voice falters. “I just thought- if I stopped having visions, I could stop failing. Stop feeling-“ You cut yourself off when you feel yourself getting choked up, and Mark’s features soften.

“Stop feeling guilty?” He completes your sentence for you, and you nod hesitantly.

“Headmaster Kang doesn’t know about my visions,” you admit. “I knew he was going to send me into confinement if I did, which is ironic because I ended up doing that to myself anyway. But it’s also because-“ you hesitate. Mark watches you intently, waiting for you to continue.

“There’s a prophecy,” you finally say, swallowing harshly. “I didn’t understand it at first. I kept seeing someone surrounded by light and shadows, but the more you showed up, the more it started to make sense. You were the centre of it all.”

Mark’s expression hardens. “A prophecy? What does it say?”

“I don’t know,” you say quietly. “They’re all vague, like most prophecies are. But it talks about light and darkness… and someone being consumed by the other. I think- I think they’re about you.”

Something flickers in his eyes. “And you’ve been keeping this all to yourself?”

“I didn’t know how to tell you, Mark,” you protest, almost pleadingly. “And it’s not just that- there’s something else.” You stall, unsure if you should share the next part, but you push forward. “In my last vision… there was a voice. It commanded the wraiths, telling them to find you. Someone’s been controlling them, and I think…” you exhale shakily. "I think that someone is the headmaster."

Mark stiffens, but you continue before he could say something. “There’s a reason why I’ve been keeping this to myself. I don’t know what he knows, but I knew I couldn’t tell him. Or anyone, for that matter. Not until I find out why he's doing this.”

“So, what? You decided to take this all in yourself? You thought you could just fix this on your own?” The anger in his voice has dissipated by now, replaced with a mix of desperation and concern.

You lower your head, the weight of his words pressing on you. “I just wanted to keep you safe. Keep everyone safe.”

“And what if I don’t need saving?” He asks, his voice quieter now. “What if what I need, is for you to be there with me? To help me figure this shit out?”

“I’m sorry,” you choke, tears already spilling down your cheeks at his words. Your features crumple in pain, and Mark seems to notice as he quickly takes your face in his hands.

“No, no. I’m sorry. Don’t cry,” Mark murmurs, his thumbs working in wiping the moisture away.

“Mark, stop,” you croak as you try to push his hands away, knowing your tears would burn him the way it does you. But Mark is unyielding, his palms holding the sides of your head firmly as he urges you to look at him.

“Listen to me,” he insists. “You don’t get to shoulder this all on your own. You don’t get to punish yourself because things didn’t go the way you thought it would. Whatever this prophecy means, and whatever happens next, we face it together. Got it?”

You finally look at him through your tears, and Mark offers you a soft, pained smile as he brushes a stray lock of hair from your face. He’s looking at you so tenderly, like you aren’t the monster you’ve convinced yourself to be. 

For the first time in forever, you feel a flicker of hope ignite inside you.

“Okay,” you whisper. “Together.”

The door creaks open, and Donghyuck looks up from the paperback he’s holding, brows raising when he sees you and Mark.

“Well, well, well.” He shuts his book, settling it down on his lap before leaning back in his chair, making himself comfortable. “Look who decided to rejoin society. I didn’t think I’d see you until the next apocalypse.”

You shift uncomfortably under his gaze, your hands brushing against the bandages still wrapped around your palms. Weirdly enough, it brings you a sense of comfort; less like a remedy for your wounds, and more of a quiet reassurance.

“Donghyuck,” you say quietly, ignoring his quip. “We need your help.”

The boy shakes his head as he stands up. “Nuh-uh. Not until you tell me what the hell is going in that head of yours, little lady. Do you have any idea how worried Mark’s been? How worried I’ve been? Seriously, I thought you’d buried yourself with the way you holed yourself up in there!”

Despite the tension in your body, you still find it in you to roll your eyes at your friend’s nagging. You know that’s just how Donghyuck is; always one for the dramatics. It’s his way of showing he cares, as much as it grates your nerves sometimes.

“Enough, man. She’s here now, and that’s all that matters, alright?” Mark cuts in, and Donghyuck narrows his eyes at him.

“Right. So tell me-“ He gestures between you and Mark. “What’d you do to get her out? Sweet talk her? Promise her eternal gratitude? Or, don’t tell me!“ Donghyuck gasps dramatically as he turns to you. “He gave you some heartfelt speech about how you’re not alone and how devastated he would be if you wasted your days in there?”

Your cheeks heat up as you look away, and Mark clears his throat awkwardly. Donghyuck is snickering to himself, but quickly stops when he registers your reaction.

“No way. He actually did that? I was kidding!” He scoffs, almost in disbelief. “You gotta tell me what you said, Mark. I might need it someday.”

Mark only groans. You don’t need to look at him to know that he’s just embarrassed as you; the subtle change in the air says it all. Based on the growing smirk on Donghyuck’s face, you know he feels it too.

“Hyuck, will you just shut up and listen? We need your help. It’s about the east wing.”

At the mention of the east wing, Donghyuck’s smile falters. “East wing? What about it?”

Mark turns to look at you, and you know that he’s leaving it to you to explain. You take in a deep breath.

“When I was in isolation, I lost my abilities momentarily. But I don’t think it was the isolation that caused that. It was the old library.” 

Donghyuck’s brows furrow. “What? But it works the same way as solar confinement, doesn’t it? It weakens your abilities in general.”

“It wasn’t supposed to.” You shake your head. “Solar confinement targets your physical fatigue— it drains you, making it harder to control your abilities. There was no reason for me to lose mine when all I did was coop myself up in a room alone. The energy in there, Hyuck… it’s different. It doesn’t just drain me, it interferes with the connection to my abilities.”

You turn to Mark. “That’s also how you were able to conjure light in the library, even though you went through confinement. All of this has something to do with the prophecy, I’m sure.”

“Wait- prophecy? What prophecy?” Donghyuck interrupts, confused.

You nod. “Through my visions, I saw a prophecy-“ you pause to gauge his reaction, but his silence prompts you to continue. “Something involving light and darkness. We need to find out what it is and I think the old library has the answers we need. And Headmaster Kang-“ You cut yourself off, his name sounding bitter on your lips. “I need to find out if he’s really behind all of this.”

Donghyuck stares at you for a long moment before he sighs, running a hand through his hair. “You guys really know how to ruin a perfect evening, don’t you?” He mutters, though the way he’s already putting on his jacket betrays his reluctance. “And for the record, I’ve always known there was something off about that guy.”

A small smile tugs at your lips, and Donghyuck squints his eyes at you. “Don’t think you’re off the hook just yet. I can’t believe you kept all this shit from me! You’re explaining everything on the way. And you.” He turns to Mark, who raises a brow. “If you hurt her, I’ll make it my mission to read every single embarrassing memory you’ve ever had. Non-stop. For weeks.”

Mark laughs wryly. “Yeah, alright. You can’t even read me properly.”

“Cocky now, aren’t we?” Donghyuck wiggles his fingers ominously. “Remember, the more guilt you feel, the easier it is for you to be read. So tread lightly, lover boy.”

You try to suppress a snort as you shove past the two boys, stepping out into the hallway to mask your own burning cheeks. “You’re insufferable, Hyuck.”

You don’t see the way Mark’s lips twitch into a faint smile as he watches you walk ahead, nor do you catch Donghyuck narrowing his eyes at him and mouthing, I’m watching you, before stalking after you.

✦ ✦ ✦

The stillness of the night is almost unnatural, but you feel strangely at ease. You wonder if it has anything to do with Mark in front of you, his shoulders loose and pace steady. The air around him is calm, no longer weighed down by the tension that used to betray his every thought. It seems that he’s gotten better at keeping his emotions in check, and for once, it doesn’t feel like you’re walking on eggshells around him.

He stops before the entrance of the old library, glancing behind his shoulder to look at you and Donghyuck. The latter is weirdly quiet, but you don’t blame him one bit. As far as you know, Donghyuck has never stepped foot into the east wing before, the fire having happened way before he even enrolled in the academy. The weight of having to use his abilities tonight must be daunting as it is unsettling.

He steps forward, eyeing the melted doorknob before placing his hand on it gingerly. You hold your breath as he does so, only to gasp quickly afterwards when you take in his reaction.

Donghyuck tenses immediately, his limbs locking as though he’s being struck by an unseen force. It looks like he’s trapped in a trance with the way his eyes roll to the back of his eyelids, chin tilted to the ceiling. You’ve never seen him react this way before, and you know it isn’t normal.

“Hyuck!” You step towards him, only for Mark to pull you back by your wrist. He shakes his head at you, as though to signal you not to interfere just yet. His free hand glows with a soft, white light when he raises it, ready for what might come next.

You gnaw on your bottom lip nervously as you wait for the situation to play out, opting to put your trust in Mark for now. The seconds stretch on unbearably, and you soon notice the faint trickle of blood from Donghyuck’s nose. Before you could react, Mark beats you to it, quickly placing his hand over Donghyuck’s.

The contact immediately breaks him from the trance he was in, and Donghyuck stumbles back with a gasp, eyes wide with fear and confusion.

“Hyuck, you alright?” You ask, your arms already stretched out in case you needed to catch him. “Did you see something?”

“Smoke,” he mumbles, his eyes unfocused as though still in a daze. “Black smoke. And… Umbras. Lots of them.” Donghyuck shakes his head, his brown hair falling into his eyes as he wipes his nose with the back of his sleeve. “This has never happened before.” “I know. I’m sorry,” you say apologetically. “Do you want to sit down?”

“No. You were right.” Donghyuck meets your gaze. “Something definitely went down in here. I saw a book.”

Mark perks from beside you. “A book?”

“Yeah. I could feel that it’s ancient. Enchanted. The problem is… it looked like any other leather-bound book in the ancient section of the library. How the hell are we supposed to find it? I mean, we could probably head over and I could touch each individual one-“

“No, don’t. That’s too much for you to handle, Hyuck. We don’t want a repeat of whatever this was.” You shake your head as you gnaw on your bottom lip, the gears in your head turning as you think of another option.

“We wouldn’t have to do that anyway,” Mark suddenly murmurs from beside you, and you turn to him in confusion.

He isn’t looking at you, his eyes distant as though he’s deep in thought. Mark swallows before he finally meets your eyes.

“Because it’s in his office. I saw it.”

Donghyuck scoffs. “Of course. That’s such an amateur villain thing to do! Hiding a literal weapon out in the open?”

“How did you know it was the one?” You ignore Donghyuck, prompting Mark to continue.

“At first, I couldn’t stop staring at it. Like there was some sort of unseen force pulling at me. But then, it started to glow,” Mark recounts before taking in a sharp inhale. “My abilities weren’t awakened yet, so I brushed it off. I thought I was seeing things. Guess I was wrong.”

Silence stretches between the three of you as Mark’s confession hangs in the air, and Donghyuck is the first to break the silence.

“So… what now?” He voices cautiously.

You don’t need to look at Mark to see the glint of determination in his eyes, the shift in the air telling you all you need to know.

“We pay the headmaster a little visit.”

In hindsight, you should have known that things were bound to go awry the moment it started being too good to be true.

You’re situated in the ancient section of the new library with Donghyuck and Renjun, a mountain of books stacked on the floor around you as you rapidly skim through each one.

Renjun groaned loudly. “Remind me what we’re looking for again? You know I can’t help you guys if I don’t know what we’re doing, right?”

“Something. Anything,” Donghyuck muttered distractedly. He seemed to be considerably more productive than you, only needing to graze his palm across the surface of each book before moving on to the next one. Then again, you’re not a psychometrist.

“Anything you can find on Mark’s biological family, or the history behind his abilities. Or maybe something like…” you trailed off when your eyes catch the body of text in the book you’re currently holding, and your breath caught in your throat. “This.”

The Lee Clan of Jeonju — Rulers of the Resonant Throne 공명의왕좌

The boys were by your side in an instant, peering over your shoulders to read through the page.

“The Lee Clan was once a dynasty of empathic rulers, believed to govern not with force, but with resonance— the ability to weave emotions into power…” Renjun murmured.

“This has to be it, right?” Donghyuck blurted. “Look here. The remaining Lee descendants scattered, their bloodline diluted over the generations, and now believed to have ceased to exist. Yet, an ancient prophecy speaks of a final descendant— one who will either restore the throne or silence it forever.”

The air around you stilled, none of you daring to say anything as you slowly registered the newfound information you just learned.

Mark is a descendant of a royal bloodline— that had to count for something, right?

The double doors barges open suddenly, startling you from your thoughts. Speak of the Devil, and he shall appear— it’s Mark, with a leatherback book in his hands.

“I got it,” he says, slightly out of breath as he approaches the table next to you. You’re quick to abandon the books on the floor as you stand up to move next to him, Donghyuck and Renjun following suit.

“Thank God you’re alive! We almost thought you’d triggered a booby trap or something with how long you took. I told you, you should have let one of us tag along!” Donghyuck chides.

“There was no booby trap, and I’m here now, aren’t I?” Mark answers wryly, setting the book on the wooden surface with a soft thump. There was no reason for him to involve you, or any of the boys in taking the book from the headmaster’s office. Not when the stakes were too high, and especially not when the wrong move could cost you everything.

He glances towards you, and you’re already looking at him with a look he couldn’t exactly decipher. Mark hopes it’s not his own nerves that’s you’re mirroring— he believes he has gotten better at controlling them. Then again, he’s pretty sure he’s still awful at concealing just how much he cares for you.

“So, what are we waiting for? Open the book,” Renjun demands impatiently.

With a deep breath, Mark flips the heavy cover open to the first page, only to reveal…

Nothing.

“What?” He exhales in confusion, quickly flipping to the other pages, each turn more frantic than the last. “It’s empty? Why the hell is it empty?”

“Let me try.” Donghyuck steps forward, all humour gone from his voice as he rests his palm on the yellowed pages, closing his eyes at the same time.

“Shit…” he mutters after a few seconds, his irises glazed the moment he opens them. “I got nothing. Are you sure you took the right book?”

“Yes, Hyuck, seeing as it was the only one that was glowing, I’d say I’m pretty damn sure.”

“Okay, calm down, you guys,” you step in, inhaling sharply. “Look, why don’t we all go back to his office and see what else we can find? And Mark, about your family-“

Your words are cut off by a sharp creak from the doorway. You spin around, your breath catching in your throat when you see Headmaster Kang standing in the entrance, his dark gaze sweeping over all of you.

“Well, well.” His voice is calm, but there's a chilling edge to it. “I suppose I should have expected this.”

“Get out of the way, Kang,” Mark says lowly, stepping forward as he blocks your path.

Headmaster Kang just smirks, stepping into the room slowly. “I don’t think I will. You should have stayed out of this, all of you. This is bigger than any of you can understand.”

Before anyone could react, he raises a hand, and suddenly, a rush of air fills the room. With a sharp gesture, he sends a wave of energy towards you, knocking everyone back into the shelves. You barely even register the pain that sears through your bones, quickly getting back to your feet with your hands at the ready for whatever comes next.

“I’ve been patient, Mark, but this little game you’ve been playing ends now. Tell me what’s in the book.”

Mark’s jaw clenches. “No.” His clenched fists already a glowing white, but you know he’s holding back— holding you back from stepping in as he relaxes his fingers behind his back, signalling you not to do anything. 

Headmaster Kang’s lips curl into a thin smile, but there’s no warmth in it. “You think you have a choice in this?”

With a sharp movement, he raises his arms, instantly unleashing an army of Umbras which come barrelling straight towards you and your friends. You’re quick to conjure the flames in your palms, but Mark is much quicker as he summons a massive shield, just in time to deflect the attack— but not for long.

Mark’s shield pulses and flickers as he struggles to keep it steady, and you know it would only be a matter of time before it breaks. Your lips part. “Mark-“

“Take the book, and go,” he grunts through gritted teeth, glancing at Renjun. “Conjure a portal and get out of here.”

“Are you crazy? He’s going to fucking kill you!” Donghyuck cries.

“He doesn’t know that I can’t read the book. So long as I can keep him distracted, I can buy you guys some time,” Mark pants, ignoring the younger’s claim. He finally turns to you, and your heart drops at the sight of his paling lips— his shield is weakening, and you know it won’t last much longer. “Go.”

You want to argue, but you don’t. You know what he’s asking; the risk he’s taking for you to figure things out.

So you settle for a nod, already feeling the tears burn in your eyes as you grab the book from the table. You barely hear the headmaster’s furious shout before Renjun’s portal opens up, and you step inside.

The last thing you see is Mark’s smile— a tired one, but one that makes your heart swell tenfold nonetheless.

You find yourself in the courtyard of the academy. From the outside, the building looks as unassuming as ever, untouched by the havoc unraveling within. As though it isn’t infested with evil; as though Mark isn’t still inside, holding the line with everything he has.

It’s silent, save the laboured breaths coming from you, Renjun and Donghyuck. You’re still hugging the book tightly against your chest, and you finally loosen your grip as you let you arms fall to your lap.

If you weren’t already staring at it so intently, you would have missed it— the amber glow that seems to emit from within, through the gaps in the pages. Your skin tingles before it quickly starts to hurt, the contact between the hardback cover and your hands burning you in a way you’ve never felt before. 

You release the book with a startled gasp, even kicking it away in the midst of your panic. You vaguely hear the boys calling for you, but you don’t turn to them, your eyes trained solely on the book, now glowing amber.

You let out a shaky exhale before swallowing harshly, pushing yourself off the ground to reach for it once more.

“What the hell are you doing?” Renjun asks.

You ignore him, hastily flipping the book open to a random page. Surprisingly, it doesn’t burn you anymore, and what greets you instead are the once-blank pages that start to fill slowly, bodies of anxient texts and symbols swirling before your very eyes.

“What the fuck?” Donghyuck murmurs from beside you, proving that you aren’t the only one seeing this.

“The prophecy,” you whisper shakily as the words begin to form across the pages, loud and bold.

When the bearer of light and the flame that defies the abyss stand as one, the veil shall break and fate will awaken. By nature's decree, only the fittest shall endure, and balance will be restored.

Silence.

“So you’re the final descendant of the Lee clan? What the fuck? Does that mean you’re related to Mark?”

“No, you idiot!” Renjun smacks the back of Donghyuck’s head, the latter crying dramatically in return. “It means-“

“-that I need to go back in there.” You finish his sentence for him, finally looking at your two friends. “This is why I’ve been getting those visions. Mark isn’t supposed to fulfil the prophecy alone-“ you pause. “It’s because I’m supposed to fulfil it with him.”

✦ ✦ ✦

Mark could taste copper on his tongue.

His vision is starting to swim and his limbs are heavy, but he forces himself to push through. He couldn’t give in now— not when the Umbras are still barelling towards him at a hundred miles per hour; not when Kang is still alive and breathing.

His shield flickers weakly in front of him, the toll of every attack weighing down on his bones. The old library is engulfed in darkness, the light he emits not bright enough, making it difficult for him to tell between wraith and shadow, and his blind attacks aren’t doing much to ease his fatigue.

That is, until he feels a shift in the air; a warmth cutting through the cold.

Of course. Of course, you’re here. As much as he had been counting on you to stay outside, he couldn’t say he’s surprised that you’re back.

“Mark, listen to me!” Your estranged yell cuts through the loud hissing of the wraiths as they burst into flames at your constant fireballs. “I need you to stop channelling!”

The white glow emitting from his palms falter slightly at your words, but Mark doesn’t turn to you. “What?” He rasps as he continues to unleash orb after orb. “Are you- no! It’s too dangerous!”

“Trust me, please,” you urge. “I saw the prophecy. You have to trust me!”

Mark glances at you— just for a split second— but a split second is more than enough; enough for you to know that he hears you.

He trusts you not just with his life, but with the parts of himself he’s never dared to give away. And maybe that’s what scares him the most. Not the battle, not the prophecy, but just how much you mean to him.

Which is why he decides to let go.

He relaxes his hands, and the white light that surrounds him fractures like glass. You see the power leaving not just his fingertips, but his entire being, and you lunge towards him to keep him from falling.

With his shield gone, you conjure your own, the wraiths around you bursting into flames instantly.

“Mark,” you whisper, squeezing your eyes shut as you feel your muscles begin to strain with the weight of your shield. You don’t hesitate to take his hands into your shaky ones even despite the absence of your gloves, knowing now that your abilities won’t hurt him. If anything, it’s necessary.

“When the bearer of light and the flame that defies the abyss stand as one,” you say through clenched teeth, feeling your chest grow heavy with each word that escapes your lips. The air around you starts to shift, but you press on.

“By nature’s decree, only the fittest shall endure...”

Your ears are ringing at this point, and you could barely hear yourself with the shrill hissing of the restless Umbras around you. Headmaster Kang’s strained yell cuts through the noise, and even though you can’t see him, you know he’s getting weaker.

“…and balance will be restored.”

Your shield breaks, and when you finally open your eyes, you’re met with a blinding light— white and amber, burning side by side but never merging. You look at your hands, still intertwined with Mark’s, the glow mirroring the colours you see above you. The Umbras are no longer coming towards you; instead, they surge towards Headmaster Kang like moths to a flame.

Shadows coil around him, clawing and tearing as he thrashes, until his screams are eventually swallowed by darkness and his form unravels into nothingness.

As quickly as they came, the Umbras vanish, leaving only silence and emptiness in their wake.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you had been holding, your eyes instantly blurring with tears.

It’s over. It’s finally over.

You look down at Mark, his head still in your lap, and you’re surprised to see that he’s already awake and looking at you, a weak smile on his lips.

“You did it,” he says quietly, the awe in his voice stirring something in you. He reaches for your face, his thumb carressing your cheek softly to wipe the moisture from your skin. “S’proud of you. My Azula.”

Despite yourself, you find yourself laughing. You still don’t know who or what an Azula is, but his usage of my made you so giddy, you don’t let yourself think twice before lowering your head and crashing your lips against his.

Mark meets you halfway, and the way he smiles into the kiss tells you everything you need to know.

Despite the steady stream of people coming and going on the academy grounds, you stay seated on the floor of the courtyard, far too exhausted to move a limb. All around you, students carry boxes and bags, their footsteps quick and voices a blur of confused questions and hurried farewells. You can’t find the energy in you to go back inside to pack your belongings, even if it’s to leave this place for good— not after everything that had just unfolded.

“So…” Donghyuck exhales. “What now?”

“It’s gonna take a while for the ministry to rebuild the school. Even then, I don’t think there’s any use in waiting,” Renjun sighs, his head lolling against his hand as his elbow rests on his knee. “Should I go back to China?”

“Can I come with you?”

“Fuck no. You’re a liability. I can’t risk getting stuck at customs because you decided to read the airport staff during security checks,” Renjun mutters.

“I told you, that was one time!”

You let their bickering blur into the background, not really wanting to get involved despite how amusing you think it is. You glance to your left to see Mark, staring into the distance with a content smile on his lips.

“So,” you start. “What are you gonna do after this? Are you going back to your dojang?”

“Naaah…” Mark shrugs, resting his weight on his palms as he leans backwards. He finally turns to you, his boyish grin growing wider at the sight of your face. You don’t miss the pink hue that paints his cheeks.

“I was thinking, um,” he stalls as he tries to find his words. You stay silent, prompting him to continue. “I was thinking of going to Jeonju. You know, find out more about my biological family, and all that.”

You nod in understanding. It only makes sense, seeing as you had only managed to tell him briefly about his ancestors earlier. You make a mental note to pick up the book from earlier later after packing your items.

“Do you wanna come with me?”

His question causes your eyes to widen, and Mark’s smile turns bashful. He chuckles nervously.

“I mean, you don’t have to if you don’t want to, of course,” he hurriedly explains. “Seoul’s your home. I’d understand if you don’t wanna-“

“Yes, Mark,” you cut him off with a beam. “Yes. I’d love to.”

Mark exhales, a mixture of a relief sigh and laughter. “Yeah?”

You nod, and Mark brings a hand to cup your cheek as he smiles at you softly. You lean into his touch, savouring his warmth.

This is it, you think. As the sun rises above the academy and casts a golden glow over the ruins of the past, you know that whatever comes next, you’ll face it together.

[arilevenatz]

Ironheart

Pairing: captain!hongjoong x reader

Genre: Angst, action

Word count: 13.3k

Warnings: Child Abuse, Blood, injury, graphic Description of Injury, gore, pirate king hongjoong, lethal face card of the cameos (there will be two surprise cameos)

A/N: so yeah captain hongjoong is here. Not gonna lie, I cried while writing this. It has been in the back of my mind for a long time and I have finally written it.I don't know if it's good or not you guys will be the judge of that! and please like and reblog, it really motivates me to write, thank you!!

Masterlist

The sea was a vast expanse of restless waves and ominous clouds as the pirate ship Halazia sliced through the water like a predator on the hunt. Its sails, black as midnight, bore a crimson emblem—a snarling dragon that struck fear into the hearts of all who dared cross its path. At the helm stood the notorious Captain Hongjoong, a name whispered in fear across the seven seas.

Draped in a long, tattered coat with gold embroidery, Hongjoong’s piercing eyes glimmered with a mix of cunning and menace. His voice, sharp as the crack of a whip, commanded respect—or death. To defy him was to invite the unforgiving depths of the ocean.

The Halazia's crew, a motley band of cutthroats and thieves, worked with disciplined chaos. They revered Hongjoong, not out of loyalty, but out of fear. He was a man who showed no mercy; betrayal was met with the sharp edge of his blade, and failure was punished with cold indifference.

“Land ahead, Captain!” called Yunho, the ship’s navigator, from the crow’s nest.

Hongjoong’s lips curled into a sinister grin. “Prepare to drop anchor,” he barked. “Tonight, we take what’s ours.”

The crew scrambled, each man knowing his role as the captain’s plan unfolded. The small port town ahead was quiet, its people unaware of the storm about to descend upon them. Hongjoong’s reputation was built on raids like this—swift, brutal, and leaving nothing but ruin in his wake.

Below deck, the Halazia's armory gleamed with weapons. Seonghwa, the ship's relentless quartermaster, handed out cutlasses and pistols to the crew. “Make it quick and clean,” he growled. “The captain doesn’t like loose ends.”

As the Halazia approached the shore under the cover of darkness, Hongjoong unsheathed his sword, its blade catching the faint light of the moon. His voice cut through the night like a blade.

“Tonight, we remind the world why the name Halazia is whispered with terror.”

The crew roared in agreement, their bloodlust ignited. For Hongjoong, it wasn’t just about gold or glory—it was about power. And no one, not kings or gods, would stand in his way.

The Halazia glided silently into the small port under the shroud of night. The unsuspecting town, nestled on the edge of the island, was quiet save for the distant crash of waves against the shore. Its residents were blissfully unaware that terror had arrived at their doorstep.

“Lower the anchor,” Seonghwa ordered in a hushed tone, his sharp eyes scanning the darkened town. The crew worked swiftly, the only sounds were the creak of ropes and the splash of water.

Hongjoong stepped onto the gangplank, his boots striking the wood with deliberate force. “No mercy,” he commanded, his voice cold and unforgiving. “Take everything. Leave nothing behind.”

Yunho and Mingi led the first group ashore, their movements swift and calculated. Mingi’s massive frame carried crates of supplies with ease, while Yunho mapped their route through the maze of narrow streets.

Wooyoung darted through the shadows, his nimble hands prying open doors and snatching valuables with practiced ease. He hummed a quiet tune to himself, a stark contrast to the fear he left in his wake.

San, ever eager for a fight, kicked down the door of the local tavern, sending its patrons scrambling. “Hand it over, or face me!” he roared, his blade gleaming in the dim light.

Jongho remained by the cannons, his sharp eyes fixed on the town. He was ready to unleash hellfire at the first sign of resistance, though he doubted any would dare.

Yeosang followed the raiding party at a measured pace, his medical kit in hand. He had no illusions about the chaos that would ensue, and he was prepared to patch up the crew—or anyone foolish enough to stand in their way.

By the time the town's alarm bell clanged in desperation, it was too late. The Halazia's crew moved like a storm, looting every corner of the town. Gold, food, weapons—nothing was spared.

Hongjoong stood in the center of the chaos, his sword drawn, a chilling smile playing on his lips. The flames of a burning warehouse reflected in his eyes as he declared, “Let this be a lesson to all who think themselves safe. The sea belongs to us.”

As dawn approached, the Halazia sailed away, its hold overflowing with stolen treasures. Behind them, the once-thriving town was left in smoldering ruins, its people haunted by the memory of the dragon-emblazoned sails.

As the first rays of morning sun illuminated the island of Aphynx, its streets bore the grim evidence of the night’s raid. Doors hung off their hinges, market stalls lay in splinters, and the blackened remains of a warehouse sent tendrils of smoke spiraling into the pale sky. The townsfolk gathered in silence, their faces etched with disbelief and despair.

In the center of the town, Mayor paced nervously, his finely embroidered coat now stained with soot and sweat. His eyes darted over the wreckage, his mind racing. Every crate of provisions, every ounce of gold, every weapon had been stripped away. Aphynx was defenseless, vulnerable, and utterly at the mercy of the sea.

“This was no ordinary band of thieves,” he muttered, clutching a scroll of parchment in his trembling hands. “It was them... the crew of Halazia.”

A young messenger arrived, breathless and pale. “Sir, the kingdom must be informed,” he urged. “Without help from Wonderland, we won’t survive another raid.”

Mayor nodded grimly. He knew there was no time to waste. “Prepare my fastest horse,” he commanded. “We ride to the capital immediately.”

By midmorning, the mayor and his escort departed, the sound of hooves echoing through the barren streets. Their destination: Wonderland, the kingdom under whose banner Aphynx pledged fealty. The crown would not take this insult lightly—piracy threatened their trade routes, their reputation, and their wealth.

As the mayor approached the towering gates of Wonderland’s capital city, he steeled himself for the audience with the royal court. He would demand justice, but deep down, he feared that even the kingdom’s might might not be enough to face the legendary Halazia and its fearsome captain.

The kingdom of Wonderland stood as a beacon of strength and unity, its influence stretching across the seven seas. Its towering white walls and majestic spires reflected the brilliance of its rule, and its bustling streets were a testament to the prosperity its people enjoyed. At the heart of this mighty kingdom sat King Eldred, a ruler beloved by his people for his wisdom, fairness, and unwavering commitment to protecting his land.

But what truly set Wonderland apart was its secret weapon: the Nishi. These elite warriors operated in the shadows, their faces concealed behind eerie white masks with two eye slits. The sight of a Nishi was both reassuring and terrifying—they were symbols of the kingdom’s unyielding resolve and its ability to strike from the shadows. Trained in combat, strategy, and espionage, the Nishi were unmatched on the battlefield and in the murky world of subterfuge.

As Mayor Alden stood before King Eldred in the grand throne room, flanked by banners bearing the kingdom’s sigil, he recounted the horrors of the raid. “Your Majesty, Aphynx has been stripped bare,” Alden pleaded, bowing low. “The people have nothing. The Halazia will return unless we act swiftly.”

King Eldred leaned forward on his throne, his sharp eyes narrowing as he processed the report. “The Halazia,” he repeated, his voice measured. “Captain Hongjoong and his crew dare to challenge Wonderland’s peace.”

From the shadows, a figure emerged, silent and imposing. The Nishi wore their signature mask, their presence sending a chill through the room. “Shall we mobilize, Your Majesty?” the Nishi asked in a calm, almost mechanical tone.

The king rose to his feet, his regal robes flowing around him like the waves of the sea. “Not yet,” he declared. “The Halazia is cunning, and we will not be drawn into a hasty response. I want information—where they’ve gone, who their allies are, and what they seek.”

He turned to the Nishi. “Deploy your finest. Track the Halazia. And when the time comes, we will remind the pirates why Wonderland is unchallenged on the seas.”

The masked figure bowed and disappeared as silently as they had arrived. The king’s gaze returned to Alden. “Fear not, Mayor,” Eldred assured him. “Aphynx will be avenged, and the Halazia will pay for its crimes.”

A few days after the raid on Aphynx, the Halazia anchored in a secluded cove to divide their spoils. The crew was in high spirits, reveling in their success, but the mood shifted when a small, unmarked vessel approached their ship under a flag of truce.

A lone messenger, dressed in simple but pristine clothes, was rowed aboard. He carried a scroll sealed with the royal insignia of Wonderland. The sight of the mark immediately put the crew on edge.

Seonghwa was the first to intercept the messenger, his sharp eyes scanning the man for signs of treachery. “State your business,” he demanded coldly.

The messenger bowed respectfully, his voice steady. “I come with a message from His Majesty, King Eldred of Wonderland.”

Hongjoong, seated on a barrel nearby, motioned for Seonghwa to step aside. “Give it here,” he ordered, his voice low and commanding. The messenger handed him the scroll with trembling hands.

Breaking the seal, Hongjoong unrolled the parchment. His eyes scanned the elegant script:

> To Captain Hongjoong of the Halazia,

The Kingdom of Wonderland invites you to discuse the recent events at Aphynx. We believe diplomacy may resolve this matter without further bloodshed or hostility.

You are offered safe passage to the island of Eletheris, where a representative of Wonderland will await you.

We hope you will consider this opportunity to avoid unnecessary conflict.

Signed,

His Majesty King Eldred*

Hongjoong’s lips curled into a faint smirk as he handed the letter to Seonghwa. “Diplomacy?” he mused. “From Wonderland? Either they’ve grown soft, or they’re planning something.”

San, ever eager for confrontation, crossed his arms and scowled. “It’s a trap. No kingdom invites pirates to talk unless they’ve got blades hidden behind their backs.”

Mingi, thoughtful but cautious, shrugged. “Could be a way to buy time. They might not know where we are and want to stall while they gather their forces.”

Wooyoung, leaning against a mast with a sly grin, added, “Or maybe they’re scared of us. That raid shook them up.”

Seonghwa handed the letter to Yunho, who studied it carefully. “The location is Eletheris,” Yunho noted. “Neutral ground, but also isolated. Perfect for an ambush.”

Jongho, standing by the cannons, spoke up in his usual calm tone. “We should assume the worst. If we go, we prepare for a fight.”

Hongjoong tapped his fingers on the hilt of his sword, deep in thought. Finally, he stood. “We’ll go,” he decided, his voice cutting through the murmurs of the crew. “If Wonderland wants to talk, we’ll give them a show. But we’ll be ready for anything.”

A sinister grin spread across his face as he turned to Seonghwa. “Prepare the ship. We’ll make our move at nightfall.”

The crew exchanged uneasy glances, but none dared question their captain. Suspicious as they were, they trusted Hongjoong’s instincts. The Halazia would sail for Eletheris—not for peace, but for the opportunity to show Wonderland just how dangerous a cornered pirate could be.

As the crew debated the letter, Yeosang emerged from below deck, wiping his hands clean with a cloth. His sharp eyes scanned the gathered group, noting the tension in the air.

“What’s going on?” he asked, his calm voice cutting through the discussion.

Seonghwa handed him the letter without a word. Yeosang read it quickly, his expression unreadable. “An invitation to ‘talk,’” he said, his tone skeptical. He folded the parchment carefully and looked at Hongjoong.

“If this is a trap, which it likely is, I hope you’ve accounted for the injuries we might sustain. I’m running low on supplies after Aphynx, and if Wonderland has their warriors, this won’t be a simple skirmish.”

Hongjoong’s smirk remained steady as he met Yeosang’s gaze, his voice laced with confidence. “Prepare for the worst, but we’re not backing down.”

Yeosang nodded, handing the letter back to Seonghwa. “I’ll do what I can. Just try not to get yourselves killed unnecessarily. I’d rather not have to stitch anyone back together because of bad decisions.”

With that, he turned and disappeared below deck again, leaving the others to their discussion.

The Halazia arrived at Eletheris under the cover of twilight, its black sails stark against the fading light. The crew stood ready, their hands brushing weapons as they prepared for whatever awaited them. The island, a neutral ground known for its wild forests and rocky shores, seemed unusually quiet as they approached the dock.

As the crew disembarked, they were met by a contingent of Wonderland’s warriors. At the forefront stood a tall, imposing man clad in gleaming armor, a crimson cloak flowing behind him. His sharp features radiated authority, and his piercing gaze swept over the pirates like a hawk assessing prey.

“I am General Kael of Wonderland,” the man announced, his voice steady and commanding. “Welcome to Eletheris, Captain Hongjoong. His Majesty extends his gratitude for your willingness to meet.”

Behind Kael stood a line of warriors, their stances disciplined, their weapons polished to a deadly sheen. Among them were four figures that immediately caught the pirates’ attention—the Nishi.

Clad in flowing black cloaks, their white masks with two eye slits were hauntingly featureless. The presence of the Nishi sent a ripple of unease through the Halazia's crew.

Hongjoong stepped forward, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp. “A grand welcome for pirates,” he remarked with a faint smirk. “I wonder if this is hospitality or intimidation.”

Kael’s lips curled into a small, humorless smile. “Perhaps a little of both. The king values peace, but Wonderland does not take threats lightly.”

Seonghwa exchanged a glance with Hongjoong, his hand hovering near his sword. San, standing nearby, muttered under his breath, “They’re itching for a fight.”

Kael gestured inland, toward a path that wound through dense forest. “His Majesty awaits you at the royal outpost further inland. You will be escorted there. I trust you and your crew will conduct yourselves appropriately.”

Hongjoong inclined his head, his smirk unyielding. “Lead the way, General.”

As the crew followed the warriors into the forest, the Nishi flanked them silently, their presence a constant reminder of Wonderland’s power. The forest was thick and eerily quiet, save for the crunch of boots on the dirt path.

Yeosang walked near the rear of the group, his gaze flickering between the Nishi. “If this is a trap, they’ve gone to great lengths to set it,” he murmured to Seonghwa.

Seonghwa nodded subtly. “Stay sharp. If they wanted us dead, they’d have done it already. This is a show of strength.”

As they neared the outpost, the imposing silhouette of a fortified structure came into view. Wonderland was not just extending an invitation—it was making a statement.

As the crew of the Halazia trudged along the forest path, flanked by the silent Nishi and Wonderland’s warriors, tension hung thick in the air. Despite their outward composure, the pirates exchanged quiet whispers, their curiosity about the masked figures overwhelming their usual bravado.

Wooyoung leaned closer to Yunho, his voice barely audible. “What’s with the creepy masks? Who walks around like that?”

Yunho shrugged, his brow furrowed. “I’ve heard rumors, but nothing solid. Some say the Nishi are assassins, trained from birth to kill without hesitation.”

San, walking ahead, glanced back with a scoff. “Assassins? They look more like ghosts. It’s the quiet ones you’ve got to watch out for.”

Mingi, ever the practical one, muttered, “I’ve never seen anyone move like them. It’s unnatural. Did you see how they didn’t make a sound, even on the dock?”

Jongho, his tone calm but wary, added, “If Wonderland brought four of them here, they must be expecting trouble. No kingdom wastes resources like that for a simple meeting.”

Seonghwa, catching their murmurs, spoke softly but firmly. “Focus. Whatever they are, we’re not here to fight them. Not yet.”

Yeosang, his keen eyes studying the Nishi out of the corner of his vision, finally chimed in. “I’ve heard whispers in ports about them,” he said. “The Nishi are Wonderland’s shadow—their secret weapon. They’re not just warriors; they’re spies, assassins, and strategists. Their masks are said to symbolize detachment from emotion. No mercy, no hesitation.”

Wooyoung shivered, his usual smirk replaced by unease. “Sounds like a nightmare. You think they’re human under those masks?”

Yeosang gave him a faint, enigmatic smile. “Human, yes. But how much humanity is left in them? That’s another question.”

Hongjoong, walking slightly ahead, glanced back at the group with a sharp look. “Enough,” he said, his voice low but commanding. “Whatever they are, we’ll deal with them if we have to. Until then, keep your wits about you. Wonderland’s trying to intimidate us, and we won’t give them the satisfaction.”

The crew fell silent, their unease replaced by steely determination. The Nishi remained as still and silent as statues, their masks giving nothing away, but the pirates knew one thing for sure: they had entered a world far more dangerous than they’d imagined.

The grand hall of Wonderland's palace was an imposing sight, with high arches and intricate tapestries adorning the walls. The crew of the Halazia stood before King Eldred, whose presence filled the room with an unspoken weight. His regal attire shimmered in the light of the chandeliers, his eyes sharp and calculating as he regarded the pirates.

"Captain Hongjoong, welcome to Wonderland," King Eldred said in a calm, steady voice, his gaze briefly sweeping over the crew before settling on their leader. "You've been quite the thorn in my side. But I believe diplomacy is the best course now."

Hongjoong, arms crossed, met the king's gaze with a wry smile. "I'd agree, Your Majesty. But let's not pretend this is anything but a show of power. You want to make sure we don't think we can walk away from this, don't you?"

Before King Eldred could respond, a sudden movement drew the attention of everyone in the room. A man-seemingly a servant-lunged toward the king with a dagger in his hand. The room fell into stunned silence as the assassin's target became clear.

But before anyone could act, one of the Nishi moved with blinding speed. In a single motion, the Nishi unsheathed a gleaming blade and, with flawless precision, cut the assassin's hand clean off at the wrist. The dagger fell to the floor, and the man screamed in agony, collapsing to the ground as blood pooled beneath him.

The Nishi stood motionless, their white mask revealing nothing-no satisfaction, no hesitation, just cold efficiency. Without a word, the other Nishi advanced, securing the would-be assassin and dragging him away, the severity of the moment leaving no room for mercy.

The room remained still, the only sound the heavy breathing of the wounded man as he was pulled out of the hall. King Eldred, unfazed by the attempt on his life, turned his eyes back to Hongjoong.

"Do not mistake this for weakness, Captain," Eldred said, his voice unwavering. "My kingdom is protected by those who do not falter, no matter the circumstances."

Hongjoong's gaze shifted to the Nishi, his interest piqued. He had seen many warriors in his time- skilled men and women, each formidable in their own right-but the way the Nishi moved, the speed, the precision-it was something entirely different. These were not mere soldiers. They were something else.

"The Nishi," Hongjoong mused, his voice low enough only for his crew to hear. "What are they? You say they protect this kingdom, but what are they truly?"

Seonghwa, standing beside him, spoke quietly. "Rumors. They're said to be more than just fighters. Spies. Assassins. Trained from the moment they can walk."

Hongjoong's eyes flicked back to the Nishi, who stood motionless at the king's side. His curiosity deepened. "Trained from birth... and no emotion. Just warriors without hesitation."

Yeosang, who had been silently observing the Nishi, nodded. "That's what they say. They wear those masks for a reason-to erase any trace of humanity. They're tools, not people."

Hongjoong's smirk returned, though it was tinged with something new-respect, perhaps even admiration. "Fascinating," he said quietly. "They're more than just soldiers. They are something beyond. And it seems Wonderland's power lies in them.”

King Eldred observed the pirates with a slight tilt of his head. "Indeed. The Nishi are the foundation of my kingdom's strength. Without them, Wonderland would be but a memory. And now, Captain, I suggest we return to the matter at hand."

Hongjoong's gaze lingered on the Nishi, but he returned his focus to the king. "Of course. Let's talk."

But as he spoke, the feeling in the room shifted. There was an unspoken understanding now, one that Hongjoong had picked up on, and he couldn't shake the thought: Wonderland had more to offer than riches. Its true strength was in its shadows- the Nishi. And that, more than anything else, was what intrigued him.

The grand hall of Wonderland fell into a tense silence after the attack on the king, the lingering unease palpable. The pirates stood with guarded expressions, while King Eldred’s steady gaze remained fixed on Hongjoong. The Nishi, ever silent, returned to their posts, their white masks as unreadable as ever.

The king cleared his throat. “Captain Hongjoong, let us return to the reason we are here. Your recent actions on Aphynx have caused great suffering. Wonderland cannot allow such acts to continue.”

Hongjoong, unshaken, stepped forward, his tone casual yet laced with authority. “You want us to stop raiding your lands? That’s fair, Your Majesty. But pirates don’t sail away empty-handed. If you want our respect, you’ll have to offer something in return.”

Eldred’s jaw tightened. “And what is it you seek, Captain? Gold? Resources? Wonderland is not a kingdom that barters with thieves.”

Hongjoong smirked, his gaze shifting to the Nishi. “I don’t want your gold, Your Majesty. I want your shadows—your Nishi.”

The hall erupted into murmurs, and even the ever-stoic Nishi seemed to shift slightly. King Eldred’s expression darkened, his voice rising. “You dare demand my kingdom’s most sacred protectors? The Nishi are not pawns to be traded!”

Hongjoong didn’t flinch, his smirk unwavering. “You want us to stop touching Eletheris and your other territories? Then give me three of your Nishi. And not just any—I want the best. Warriors who can ensure my enemies fear the Halazia as much as they fear Wonderland.”

The king leaned forward, his knuckles whitening as he gripped the arms of his throne. “Do you think I would sell my kingdom’s greatest weapon to a pirate? You overestimate your position.”

Seonghwa, calm and calculating, stepped in. “Your Majesty, consider this: Wonderland’s resources remain untouched, and the Halazia becomes an ally rather than an enemy. You lose nothing, but gain peace.”

The king hesitated, the weight of the decision evident on his face. He turned his gaze to General Kael, who stood at his side. “What do you make of this?”

Kael frowned, his voice low. “Risky, but tactically sound. Better to have them as allies than adversaries.”

Eldred’s eyes returned to Hongjoong, his reluctance clear. “You ask for much, Captain. The Nishi are not merely soldiers. They are trained from birth, their loyalty bound to Wonderland alone.”

Hongjoong’s smirk softened into something more serious. “I don’t need their loyalty, Your Majesty. I need their skill. Three Nishi, and I swear Wonderland’s lands will never again know the Halazia’s wrath.”

The king sat back, his expression one of defeat. “Very well,” he said reluctantly. “But you will not choose. I will decide which Nishi to send.”

Hongjoong’s smirk returned. “No, Your Majesty. If I’m to trust my life and crew to them, I will choose. Send me your best, or the deal is off.”

Eldred’s fists clenched, but he finally nodded, his voice heavy with resignation. “You will have your three Nishi. But know this, Captain: should you betray this agreement, their blades will be the first to find your throat.”

Hongjoong chuckled, a glint of satisfaction in his eyes. “We'll see about that.”

The crew of the Halazia had been granted an unexpected stay in Wonderland, a rare opportunity to explore the fabled kingdom and observe its famed Nishi up close. The palace guards kept a watchful eye on the pirates, but Hongjoong and his crew were far from intimidated.

On the second morning, they were led to a large training arena within the palace grounds. The space was surrounded by high walls and overlooked by balconies, where nobles and soldiers often gathered to witness the Nishi in action.

“This,” General Kael announced as the pirates entered, “is where you will decide. The Nishi you seek are among the finest we have. Observe them well.”

The Nishi, clad in their signature black cloaks and white masks, were already in the arena, demonstrating their skills. They moved with an elegance that was almost otherworldly, their swords flashing in the sunlight as they sparred. Each strike was calculated, every movement a testament to their rigorous training.

Hongjoong watched with keen interest, his arms crossed as he leaned casually against a stone pillar. His sharp eyes darted from one Nishi to another, assessing their movements, their precision, and their lethality.

“These aren’t just warriors,” he murmured to Seonghwa, who stood beside him. “They’re artists of war.”

Seonghwa nodded, his gaze fixed on the display. “Efficient. Deadly. They don’t waste energy or time. You’re choosing weapons, not people.”

San, standing nearby, grinned. “Weapons or not, I wouldn’t mind seeing what they’re like in a real fight. Sparring’s one thing. The heat of battle’s another.”

Yeosang, ever observant, added, “Their discipline is unmatched. But loyalty is another matter entirely. They’ve lived their lives for Wonderland. You think they’ll follow us?”

Hongjoong’s smirk returned. “They don’t need to follow us. They need to obey orders. And I intend to make sure they see the Halazia as worthy of their blades.”

As the demonstration continued, one Nishi stood out. Their movements were impossibly fluid, their strikes faster and more precise than the others. Even among the elite, this figure commanded attention.

“That one,” Jongho said, his tone firm. “They’re the one I’d trust in a fight.”

Wooyoung tilted his head, watching another Nishi with blade, who moved with a deadly rhythm. “I like that one. Quick, unpredictable. My kind of chaos.”

Mingi, ever practical, gestured toward a Nishi with a massive glaive. “That one’s strength could turn the tide in a skirmish. We need power as much as speed.”

Hongjoong listened to his crew’s observations, his mind already working. He approached General Kael, his smirk never wavering. “We’ll need more time to observe. But I already have a few in mind.”

Kael nodded stiffly. “Take your time. The king’s orders are clear—you may choose three. But remember, Captain, they are not yours to break. They serve Wonderland first.”

Hongjoong chuckled, his gaze drifting back to the arena. “We’ll see about that.”

The days passed with the pirates watching the Nishi train, each session revealing more of their deadly skills. By the end of their stay, Hongjoong and his crew were ready to make their choices—Nishi who would become part of the Halazia’s legend, and perhaps its greatest weapon.

As the sparring sessions continued, Hongjoong’s sharp eyes scanned the arena, observing the Nishi with a mix of curiosity and calculated intent. His crew murmured among themselves, pointing out impressive maneuvers or debating the merits of strength versus speed.

But then, something—or rather, someone—caught Hongjoong’s attention.

Standing at the far edge of the arena, away from the other Nishi, was a lone figure. The Nishi wasn’t participating in the training but instead stood silently, its posture rigid, observing the others much like Hongjoong and his crew. The way it leaned slightly, arms crossed, almost mirrored Hongjoong’s stance.

This one wasn’t like the others. Its stillness was different—not passive, but deliberate. The air around it seemed to hum with an invisible tension, as if it were assessing not just the Nishi in the arena but the pirates themselves.

Hongjoong tilted his head, his smirk fading into something more thoughtful. “Who’s that?” he asked, his voice cutting through his crew’s chatter.

General Kael followed Hongjoong’s gaze and frowned. “Ah, that one. It is not a combatant today. A senior Nishi, more involved in leadership and strategy.”

“Leadership?” Hongjoong’s curiosity deepened. “What’s its name?”

Kael hesitated. “Nishi do not use names. They are referred to by rank or designation.”

“Then give me its rank,” Hongjoong pressed, looking bored.

“Second Blade,” Kael said reluctantly. “One of the most skilled among them. But it is not intended for this... arrangement.”

Hongjoong’s interest was piqued further. The detached aura of the Second Blade, combined with its air of quiet authority, intrigued him in a way no other Nishi had. There was something magnetic about the figure—a mystery that demanded unraveling.

“That one,” Hongjoong declared, pointing at the Second Blade. “It’ll be my first choice.”

The general’s expression darkened. “Second Blade is not for sale, Captain. It serves the king directly.”

Hongjoong’s smirk widened, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “You said I could choose. And I choose it. If the king values peace with the Halazia, he’ll agree.”

Kael stiffened but said nothing, knowing this matter would ultimately fall to the king.

The Second Blade, as if sensing the attention, turned its masked face toward Hongjoong. Even with no visible expression, the intensity of its gaze was palpable. For a moment, the pirate captain and the enigmatic Nishi seemed locked in a silent exchange, one that neither his crew nor the other warriors could decipher.

“I like it,” Hongjoong said, more to himself than anyone else. “There’s something about it. A spark I haven’t seen in anyone else here.”

Seonghwa, standing nearby, raised an eyebrow. “You’re sure about this? It doesn’t seem like the type to take orders easily.”

Hongjoong chuckled. “That’s what makes it interesting. I want the best, and that one’s the best.”

As the pirates continued to watch, Hongjoong knew he had made his decision. He wanted the Second Blade—not just as a warrior for the Halazia but as a puzzle to solve, a force to understand. And he wouldn’t leave Wonderland without it.

After days of observing the Nishi, the Halazia crew finalized their choices. True to Hongjoong’s word, the first pick was the enigmatic Second Blade, the senior Nishi who had caught the captain’s eye with its silent yet commanding presence. The other two selections were equally skilled—strong, agile warriors with ranks just below the Second Blade.

When General Kael informed the chosen Nishi of their new roles, the Second Blade simply nodded, its white mask betraying no reaction. The other two Nishi, larger and imposing, accepted the news with quiet compliance.

As the three assembled before the pirates for their departure preparations, something became strikingly apparent.

“Wait a minute,” Mingi said, breaking the silence. He squinted at the lineup, tilting his head as if trying to reconcile what he was seeing. “Is it just me, or is that one... shorter?”

The crew turned their gazes toward the Second Blade, and sure enough, it stood a full head shorter than the other two Nishi.

Wooyoung snickered, elbowing San. “You picked the shortest one, Captain. Thought you were all about power and presence.”

San crossed his arms, frowning slightly. “Size doesn’t matter if it can fight. You all saw what it did to that attacker in the throne room. Fast and precise.”

“It’s true,” Jongho added, his voice calm but analytical. “Height isn’t everything. If anything, it might make it more agile.”

Still, the contrast was hard to ignore. The Second Blade’s stature seemed almost diminutive next to the hulking forms of the other two Nishi. Yet, despite its smaller frame, there was something undeniably commanding about it.

Hongjoong, who had been quietly observing the exchange, finally smirked. “You’re all looking at this the wrong way. It’s not about size. It’s about presence. And that one,” he gestured toward the Second Blade, “has more presence than anyone else here.”

The crew exchanged glances but didn’t argue. They’d seen enough to trust their captain’s instincts, even if the choice seemed unconventional.

Yeosang, ever the practical observer, leaned toward Seonghwa and murmured, “Smaller frame or not, it’s still the most intriguing of the three. The way it carries itself... it’s like it’s always thinking three steps ahead.”

Seonghwa nodded in agreement. “If anything, the contrast makes it even more dangerous. People underestimate what they don’t fully understand.”

As the crew prepared to leave Wonderland with their new recruits, the Second Blade remained as silent and enigmatic as ever. Despite its shorter stature, it exuded an undeniable authority that seemed to silence any lingering doubts.

Hongjoong glanced back at it one last time before boarding the Halazia, his smirk growing wider. “Short or not, you’re exactly what I was looking for.”

In the dimly lit barracks where the Nishi rested, the Second Blade stood by a window, its white mask catching the faint moonlight. Across the room, the two newly chosen Nishi, seungcheol and Mingyu, sat on a bench, their masks placed neatly beside them.

Seungcheol, the elder of the two, crossed his arms, his brows furrowed as he broke the silence. “I don’t understand it. Of all the Nishi, why pick you first?” His tone wasn’t hostile, but there was an unmistakable hint of curiosity.

Mingyu, chuckled softly. “Come on, Seungcheol. It’s obvious, isn’t it? The captain likes the mysterious ones. Second Blade’s got that whole ‘silent and deadly’ vibe going on. You can’t compete with that.”

The Second Blade turned slightly, its masked face tilted as if considering whether to respond. After a moment, it spoke, its voice low and measured. “The choice was the captain’s. Not mine. Does it bother you?”

seungcheol sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Not really. I just think it’s strange. You don’t even interact with anyone, and suddenly, you’re the captain’s favorite.” He leaned back against the wall, his gaze narrowing. “But I guess that’s part of the appeal, huh?”

Mingyu grinned, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “Honestly, I’m just glad I got picked. Can you imagine staying here, doing the same drills every day, while the three of us get to see the world? Feels like a promotion to me.”

seungcheol rolled his eyes. “You would see it that way.”

Mingyu shrugged. “What? It’s true. Besides, the Halazia crew seems... interesting. They’re not exactly the kind of people we’re used to, but they’ve got their own kind of charm.”

The Second Blade returned its gaze to the window. “They are unpredictable. That makes them dangerous.”

“Dangerous to us?” seungcheol asked, his tone more serious now.

“To everyone,” the Second Blade replied, its voice calm but firm. “But that is why we were chosen. To ensure their chaos is controlled.”

Mingyu leaned back, resting his arms on the bench. “Controlled, huh? I don’t think those pirates are the type to take orders. Especially not from us.”

The Second Blade turned fully now, its posture straight and commanding despite its smaller frame. “Then we adapt. As we always have.”

seungcheol watched it closely, his expression softening. “You’re really something, aren’t you? No hesitation. No second-guessing. You just... do.”

Mingyu nodded, a playful smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah, that’s what makes it so cool. Honestly, I think we’ll learn a lot from this one. Even if it’s shorter than both of us.”

seungcheol snorted, but the corner of his mouth twitched upward. “Don’t let the captain hear you say that. He might have your head.”

The Second Blade didn’t react to the teasing, instead walking toward the exit. Before it stepped out, it paused and said, “Rest while you can. Tomorrow, everything changes.”

As it left the room, seungcheol leaned toward Mingyu, his voice low. “I’m not sure if I admire it or if it gives me the creeps.”

Mingyu laughed, patting seungcheol on the shoulder. “Why not both? Keeps things interesting.”

The two fell into a comfortable silence, both wondering what lay ahead as the newest recruits of the Halazia.

The following morning, the Halazia crew and their newly acquired Nishi stood at the gates of Wonderland, preparing for departure. The Second Blade stood slightly apart from seungcheol and Mingyu, as stoic and silent as ever, its mask firmly in place.

The pirates were busy securing their belongings and discussing the logistics of integrating the Nishi into their operations. Hongjoong, however, couldn’t shake the lingering curiosity he felt toward the Second Blade. Something about it was different—unreadable, yes, but also magnetic in a way he couldn’t explain.

As the group prepared to board the Halazia, Hongjoong lingered near the Second Blade, his curiosity still piqued. He turned to her, gesturing for her attention. “Second Blade,” he said, his tone casual but firm, “before we leave, there’s something I need to clarify. You’ve barely spoken a word since we met. Let’s change that.”

The Second Blade paused, tilting its masked head slightly, and finally spoke. “What do you wish to clarify, Captain?”

The voice caught everyone’s attention. It was soft yet sharp, calm yet commanding—a voice that held the kind of authority forged through years of discipline. But what stood out most was its unmistakable femininity.

Hongjoong’s eyes widened briefly before his expression settled into his usual smirk. “Well, well. You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?”

Mingi, standing nearby, blinked in surprise. “Wait a second... That's a woman?”

A crew member laughed nervously. “A woman? On a pirate ship? Isn’t that, like... bad luck or something?”

The atmosphere tensed for a moment as some of the crew exchanged uncertain glances.

Another chimed in, “I’ve heard the stories. Women on ships are supposed to bring misfortune.”

Before anyone could respond, Hongjoong’s voice cut through the murmurs like a blade. “Enough.”

The crew fell silent as their captain stepped forward, his sharp gaze sweeping over them. “Bad luck? Misfortune? Since when have we, the crew of the Halazia, believed in such pathetic superstitions?”

He turned to them, his smirk hardening into a glare. “Do you think the Halazia have survived storms, battles, and betrayals because of luck? No. We’ve made it this far because we’re the best. And I’ll take anyone who proves their worth—man or woman.”

Hongjoong’s gaze then shifted to the Second Blade. “And this one? This one’s already proven it’s better than half of you just by standing there. So unless you’d like to challenge that, I suggest you keep your mouths shut.”

Wooyoung scratched the back of his neck, glancing at the Second Blade. “Honestly, after seeing her fight, I’m not about to argue.”

Hongjoong turned back to the Second Blade, his smirk returning. “You’ve already got my respect, Second Blade. And that’s not something I give out lightly.”

The Second Blade inclined her head slightly, her voice calm and unbothered. “Respect is earned, not given. I will continue to prove myself, Captain.”

Hongjoong chuckled, stepping back. “I like you, Second Blade. You’re full of surprises. But if you’re going to serve on the Halazia, you’ll need a name. I can’t keep calling you by rank.”

She hesitated, as if the thought hadn’t occurred to her. Finally, she said, “Call me whatever you wish. It makes no difference to me.”

Hongjoong’s smirk widened. “Then I’ll think of something fitting. Welcome aboard, Second Blade.”

She inclined her head slightly, a gesture of acknowledgment.

As the crew of the Halazia made their final preparations to set sail, the Nishi stood off to the side, silent and unreadable. Seungcheol and Mingyu exchanged glances, each wondering what life aboard the infamous pirate ship would hold for them. The Second Blade, as calm and composed as ever, remained still, watching the pirates as they moved about with practiced efficiency.

Hongjoong returned to the main deck, his sharp eyes scanning his crew. “Alright, let’s get moving. Wonderland’s hospitality is wearing thin, and I’d rather not linger where too many eyes are watching.”

The crew murmured in agreement, their movements quick and purposeful as they cast off from the docks.

Seungcheol leaned slightly toward Mingyu, his voice low. “This crew is... different. They don’t seem to operate on any rules I’m familiar with.”

Mingyu shrugged, his tone light but curious. “That’s what makes it exciting, don’t you think? We’ve been stuck in Wonderland for too long. It’s about time we see how the rest of the world works.”

The Second Blade didn’t join the conversation, but its masked face tilted ever so slightly, suggesting it was listening.

As the ship drifted farther from the port, Hongjoong approached the three Nishi. “I’ll be clear with you now. You’re no longer in Wonderland. On this ship, you follow my orders. I don’t care about ranks, titles, or protocols from your past. You’re part of my crew now, and that means loyalty to me and me alone.”

Seungcheol and Mingyu nodded in unison, their movements precise and obedient. The Second Blade simply inclined its head again, its silence speaking volumes.

San, standing nearby, crossed his arms as he eyed the trio. “Can they fight in real battles, though? Wonderland’s training is one thing, but out here, it’s chaos.”

Hongjoong didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he turned to the Second Blade. “What do you think? Can you handle the chaos of the seas?”

The Second Blade’s voice was calm and unwavering. “Chaos is an opportunity. It reveals the weaknesses of those unprepared. I have no intention of being unprepared.”

Mingyu chuckled under his breath. “I think that’s the most poetic way I’ve ever heard someone say ‘yes.’”

Seungcheol shot him a look, though there was a hint of amusement in his eyes.

Hongjoong smirked, clearly satisfied. “Good. Then let’s see how you adapt to life on the Halazia. You’ll have plenty of chances to prove yourselves.”

As the ship gained speed, Wooyoung called from the galley, “Captain! If they’re part of the crew now, they better learn how we eat. Mingyu looks like he could finish off the week’s rations in one sitting!”

Mingyu glanced toward Wooyoung, his posture relaxed. “Only if your cooking’s as good as you claim.”

Wooyoung grinned, leaning out the doorway. “You’ll regret challenging me, rookie. Dinner’s in a few hours. Let’s see if you survive it.”

The crew laughed, the tension from the earlier departure easing. The Nishi, while still enigmatic, were beginning to feel less like outsiders and more like the newest pieces of the Halazia’s puzzle.

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, Hongjoong stood at the helm, his eyes flickering between the horizon and the Second Blade. That strange pull toward her lingered, growing stronger with every interaction. He couldn’t quite place it yet, but one thing was certain—this journey was about to get far more interesting.

As the crew of the Halazia made their final preparations to set sail, the Nishi stood off to the side, silent and unreadable. Seungcheol and Mingyu exchanged glances, each wondering what life aboard the infamous pirate ship would hold for them. The Second Blade, as calm and composed as ever, remained still, watching the pirates as they moved about with practiced efficiency.

Hongjoong returned to the main deck, his sharp eyes scanning his crew. “Alright, let’s get moving. Wonderland’s hospitality is wearing thin, and I’d rather not linger where too many eyes are watching.”

The crew murmured in agreement, their movements quick and purposeful as they cast off from the docks.

Seungcheol leaned slightly toward Mingyu, his voice low. “This crew is... different. They don’t seem to operate on any rules I’m familiar with.”

Mingyu shrugged, his tone light but curious. “That’s what makes it exciting, don’t you think? We’ve been stuck in Wonderland for too long. It’s about time we see how the rest of the world works.”

The Second Blade didn’t join the conversation, but her masked face tilted ever so slightly, suggesting it was listening.

As the ship drifted farther from the port, Hongjoong approached the three Nishi. “I’ll be clear with you now. You’re no longer in Wonderland. On this ship, you follow my orders. I don’t care about ranks, titles, or protocols from your past. You’re part of my crew now, and that means loyalty to me and me alone.”

Seungcheol and Mingyu nodded in unison, their movements precise and obedient. The Second Blade simply inclined its head again, its silence speaking volumes.

San, standing nearby, crossed his arms as he eyed the trio. “Can they fight in real battles, though? Wonderland’s training is one thing, but out here, it’s chaos.”

Hongjoong didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he turned to the Second Blade. “What do you think? Can you handle the chaos of the seas?”

The Second Blade’s voice was calm and unwavering. “Chaos is an opportunity. It reveals the weaknesses of those unprepared. I have no intention of being unprepared.”

Mingyu chuckled under his breath. “I think that’s the most poetic way I’ve ever heard someone say ‘yes.’”

Seungcheol shot him a look, though there was a hint of amusement in his eyes.

Hongjoong smirked, clearly satisfied. “Good. Then let’s see how you adapt to life on the Halazia. You’ll have plenty of chances to prove yourselves.”

As the ship gained speed, Wooyoung called from the galley, “Captain! If they’re part of the crew now, they better learn how we eat. Mingyu looks like he could finish off the week’s rations in one sitting!”

Mingyu glanced toward Wooyoung, his posture relaxed. “Only if your cooking’s as good as you claim.”

Wooyoung grinned, leaning out the doorway. “You’ll regret challenging me, rookie. Dinner’s in a few hours. Let’s see if you survive it.”

The crew laughed, the tension from the earlier departure easing. The Nishi, while still enigmatic, were beginning to feel less like outsiders and more like the newest pieces of the Halazia’s puzzle.

The Halazia loomed over the coastline of a small, unsuspecting island, its black sails striking a foreboding figure against the azure sky. Hongjoong stood at the bow, his piercing gaze fixed on the settlement below.

“Alright,” he said, turning to his crew. “We go in quick and clean. Take only what we need—gold, weapons, supplies. Leave no loose ends.”

The main crew gathered around him—Seonghwa, Yunho, Yeosang, San, Mingi, Wooyoung, Jongho—all ready for the raid. Beside them stood the three Nishi, their white masks gleaming ominously in the sunlight.

“This time,” Hongjoong continued, his smirk sharp, “it’s just us. No extra hands, no distractions. Let’s see how well our new recruits handle the chaos.”

San grinned, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. “Finally. Let’s see if they’re as good as they looked in Wonderland.”

Wooyoung chuckled, glancing at Mingyu. “Think you can keep up with us, big guy?”

Mingyu tilted his head slightly, his voice calm. “I think the better question is if you can keep up with me.”

Seungcheol sighed, ever the level-headed one. “Let’s focus on the task, shall we?”

The Second Blade, as always, said nothing, but its presence was palpable.

As the crew descended on the island, chaos erupted. The inhabitants, though armed, were no match for the seasoned pirates. And then there were the Nishi.

The Second Blade moved like a shadow, weaving through the fray with unnerving precision. Its twin blades flashed, striking down attackers before they could even raise their weapons. Every move was deliberate, efficient, and terrifyingly silent.

Seungcheol, meanwhile, was a powerhouse. His strikes were methodical and brutal, each one designed to incapacitate swiftly. He moved in sync with the others, covering blind spots and ensuring no one was overwhelmed.

Mingyu, despite his easy going demeanor, was a force of nature. His sheer strength was undeniable, and every swing of his blade sent opponents flying. Yet, there was a grace to his movements, a calculated elegance that belied his size.

The Halazia crew couldn’t help but notice.

“Did you see that?” Mingi shouted, fending off an attacker. “That’s insane!”

Yunho, navigating through the chaos, grinned. “I think we made the right choice bringing them along.”

Jongho, in the middle of taking down a group of armed guards, smirked. “Not bad for newcomers. But let’s see how they handle the next wave.”

The fight raged on, but it became clear that the Nishi were unstoppable. By the time the dust settled, the islanders had been subdued, their weapons confiscated, and the pirates stood victorious.

Hongjoong, standing amidst the wreckage, surveyed the scene. His eyes lingered on the Second Blade, which was wiping the blood from its swords with calm precision.

“Well,” he said, his voice carrying a note of satisfaction. “I’d say you’ve all more than proven yourselves.”

Seungcheol, ever the professional, inclined his head. “We’re here to serve, Captain.”

Mingyu leaned on his sword, grinning. “That was fun. When’s the next one?”

The Second Blade remained silent, but the way it sheathed its blades with a flourish spoke volumes.

San, catching his breath, clapped Hongjoong on the back. “You weren’t kidding when you said they’d be useful. I don’t think we’ve ever had a raid go this smoothly.”

Hongjoong chuckled, his sharp gaze still fixed on the Second Blade. “Useful? They’re more than that. They’re exactly what we’ve been missing.”

As the crew gathered their spoils and prepared to leave, the bond between the pirates and their new allies had grown stronger. The Nishi had not only earned their place on the Halazia but had also become a force to be reckoned with—one that the seas would soon learn to fear.

As the crew regrouped on the beach, the spoils of their raid piled high behind them, Wooyoung let out a dramatic sigh, collapsing onto a barrel.

“Well,” he said, wiping imaginary sweat from his forehead, “that was easy. Almost boring, actually.”

Mingyu, standing nearby, chuckled. “You call that boring? You screamed when that guy lunged at you.”

Wooyoung pointed a finger at him, indignant. “It was a battle cry. You wouldn’t understand.”

San smirked, shaking his head. “Pretty sure it sounded more like a dying seagull.”

“Seagull?” Wooyoung gasped, clutching his chest as if wounded. “You wound me, San. I’m the voice of this ship!”

“More like the noise of this ship,” Jongho muttered under his breath, earning a laugh from Yunho.

As the crew bantered, Hongjoong stood slightly apart, his eyes fixated on the Second Blade. She was meticulously cleaning her twin swords, every movement precise and deliberate. Despite the chaos and bloodshed of the raid, her calm demeanor remained intact, and Hongjoong couldn’t help but find it fascinating.

Seonghwa, noticing his captain’s lingering gaze, sidled up to him with a knowing smirk. “You’ve been staring at her for a while now.”

Hongjoong didn’t look away, his voice low and thoughtful. “There’s something about her, Seonghwa. The way she moves, the way she fights... it’s mesmerizing.”

Seonghwa raised an eyebrow. “Mesmerizing? Or are you just—”

“Don’t,” Hongjoong interrupted, shooting him a sharp look. “Don’t even start.”

Seonghwa chuckled, raising his hands in surrender. “I didn’t say anything, Captain.”

Nearby, Wooyoung leaned toward Mingi, whispering loudly enough for everyone to hear, “I think the captain’s got a crush.”

Mingi snorted. “Yeah, good luck with that. She’s not exactly the talkative type.”

Hongjoong turned sharply toward them, his glare cutting through their laughter. “Focus on the loot before I throw you both overboard.”

The crew burst into laughter, but it quickly subsided when the Second Blade stood and approached Hongjoong. Even under her mask, her presence was commanding, and the air around them grew quiet.

“Captain,” she said simply, her voice steady and calm. “Your orders?”

Hongjoong cleared his throat, straightening his coat as if caught off guard. “We’ll load the spoils onto the ship and set sail immediately. Good work today, Second Blade.”

She inclined her head and turned to help with the loot, her movements fluid and efficient.

As she walked away, Hongjoong couldn’t help but watch her again, a faint smirk playing on his lips.

Seonghwa leaned in once more, his voice barely a whisper. “You’re obsessed.”

Hongjoong didn’t deny it. “Maybe. But there’s something about her, Seonghwa. Something I can’t quite figure out.”

San walked by, overhearing their conversation, and quipped, “Careful, Captain. You keep staring like that, and she might think you’re planning to challenge her to a duel.”

Hongjoong chuckled, shaking his head. “If I did, I’d probably lose.”

The moment the words left Hongjoong's mouth—"If I did, I’d probably lose"—the deck went completely silent.

San, mid-step, froze. Wooyoung dropped the sack of loot he was carrying. Yunho, who was tying down a sail, turned so quickly he nearly tripped over the rope. Even Jongho, typically stoic, looked like someone had just smacked him in the face with a fish.

Seonghwa stared at Hongjoong, his jaw slightly slack. “Did you... did you just say you’d lose a fight?”

Hongjoong blinked, realizing what he’d said, and immediately tried to backtrack. “I mean... hypothetically. It’s not like I—”

But Wooyoung wasn’t about to let this go. He clutched his chest dramatically, stumbling backward. “The great Captain Hongjoong, admitting defeat? To anyone? Oh, this is historic! Someone write this down!”

Mingi, trying not to laugh, nudged Yunho. “You think the world’s ending? This feels like one of those moments.”

“Maybe he’s sick,” Yunho said, pretending to inspect Hongjoong from a distance. “Captain, should I call Yeosang? You might be delirious.”

San, smirking, crossed his arms. “Or maybe... you’re just that whipped.”

The entire crew burst into laughter, the kind of loud, boisterous laughter that echoed over the waves. Even Seungcheol and Mingyu exchanged amused glances, clearly entertained by the pirates' antics.

The Second Blade, however, remained silent, standing as still as a statue. Her head tilted slightly, as if she was processing the conversation but chose not to comment.

Hongjoong, trying to salvage his pride, raised his hands. “Alright, enough! You lot have had your fun. Get back to work before I start assigning punishment duties.”

But his threat only made Wooyoung laugh harder. “You can’t scare us, Captain! Not when you’re this close to writing poetry about the Second Blade!”

“I do not write poetry,” Hongjoong snapped, his cheeks faintly red.

Seonghwa smirked, leaning in just enough to whisper, “If the mask comes off and she turns out to be beautiful, you’re doomed.”

Hongjoong glared at him but didn’t reply, his mind briefly wandering to what might be beneath that mask.

As the crew slowly returned to their tasks, still chuckling under their breaths, Seungcheol spoke up, his tone even. “Is this how your crew normally behaves, Captain?”

Hongjoong sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Unfortunately, yes. They’re skilled, but they have no sense of decorum.”

Mingyu grinned. “I like them. Feels more... lively than Wonderland.”

Seungcheol hummed in agreement, but his sharp eyes flicked to the Second Blade. “Though I’ll admit, I’ve never seen someone affect a group so quickly.”

Hongjoong ignored the comment, instead turning his focus back to the horizon. But as the laughter of his crew faded into the rhythm of the ship’s movements, he couldn’t shake the faint heat rising to his cheeks.

He stole a glance at the Second Blade, who was quietly inspecting her weapons near the mast. The sight of her—silent, enigmatic, and completely unbothered by the chaos she caused—only intrigued him more.

And though he would never admit it, not even to himself, Hongjoong knew one thing: he was whipped, and he wasn’t entirely sure he minded.

As the days turned into weeks, Halazia sailed through the vast oceans, leaving a trail of fear and fascination in its wake. But amidst the looting, planning, and endless chaos that came with being the pirate king, Hongjoong found his thoughts increasingly occupied by one thing—or rather, one person.

The Second Blade.

She was unlike anyone he’d ever encountered. Her movements were a study in grace and lethality, her silence spoke louder than words, and her presence was magnetic. Hongjoong had always viewed his crew and allies as tools to further his goals, weapons to carve his path to dominance. But the Second Blade… she was different.

She wasn’t just a weapon; she was a treasure. And as the self-proclaimed king of the seas, Hongjoong always took what he wanted. Right now, he wanted her.

He often found himself watching her, more openly than he intended. Whether she was sharpening her blades, silently observing the crew’s antics, or simply standing at the bow of the ship, her mask reflecting the sunlight like polished ivory, Hongjoong couldn’t look away.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and red, Hongjoong leaned against the railing, his sharp eyes fixed on her.

“She’s something, isn’t she?”

The voice didn't startle him, and he turned to find Seonghwa standing nearby, a knowing smirk on his face.

Hongjoong scoffed, crossing his arms. “Don’t start.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Seonghwa said innocently, though his tone was laced with amusement. “I’m just pointing out the obvious.”

Hongjoong sighed, running a hand through his hair. “She’s not like the others, Seonghwa. There’s something about her… something I can’t quite figure out.”

Seonghwa raised an eyebrow. “You mean besides the fact that she could probably kill us all in our sleep without breaking a sweat?”

Hongjoong chuckled, but there was no humor in it. “Exactly that. She’s a mystery, and you know how much I hate not knowing things.”

“Maybe that’s why you’re so drawn to her,” Seonghwa mused. “You’re used to being in control, Captain. But with her, you’re not.”

Hongjoong didn’t respond, but the truth of Seonghwa’s words lingered in his mind.

Later that night, as the crew gathered for their usual round of rum and storytelling, Hongjoong found himself drawn to her again. She stood apart from the group, leaning against the mast with her arms crossed. Even with the mask, he could feel her sharp gaze cutting through the revelry.

He approached her, his boots clicking softly against the wooden deck. She didn’t move, didn’t even acknowledge him, but he knew she was aware of his presence.

“Why do you always stand alone?” he asked, his voice quieter than usual.

She turned her head slightly, the white mask catching the moonlight. “I’m not part of your crew, Captain. I’m here because I was ordered to be.”

Her words were cold, but Hongjoong detected a faint crack in her usual stoic tone.

“Maybe,” he said, leaning casually against the mast beside her. “But you’ve proven yourself more than just an order. You’ve earned your place here.”

She didn’t reply, and the silence stretched between them. For once, Hongjoong didn’t mind.

Finally, she spoke. “You’re different than I expected.”

“Oh?” His lips curled into a smirk. “What did you expect?”

“A tyrant,” she said simply. “Someone who rules with fear and takes without thought.”

Hongjoong chuckled, his gaze fixed on the horizon. “I am those things, Second Blade. But even a tyrant can appreciate something extraordinary when he sees it.”

Her head tilted slightly, as if she were studying him, trying to unravel his words.

“Goodnight, Captain,” she said finally, her voice softer this time.

As she walked away, Hongjoong watched her disappear into the shadows, a strange sense of longing settling in his chest.

For the first time in his life, the pirate king found himself wanting something he couldn’t simply take. But he was determined to have her—one way or another.

The clash of swords and the thunder of cannons filled the air as chaos reigned on the Halazia. The navy had come prepared, their ships surrounding yours with ruthless efficiency. The crew fought valiantly, their cries of defiance rising above the din of battle.

You moved through the fray like a shadow, your twin blades cutting through enemies with practiced precision. Every movement was deliberate, every strike lethal. You had faced battles like this before -chaotic, bloody, and merciless-and you thrived in them.

But then, a presence caught your attention.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a man moving toward you, his stance predatory and his sword glinting under the sun. He was no ordinary soldier; the way he carried himself spoke of years of training, and his eyes locked onto you with singular intent.

You met his first strike with one of your blades, the force of the clash vibrating through your arm. He was stronger than most, but you didn't falter. Instead, you pushed back, twisting to deflect his follow-up strike with your second blade

“You're nothing more than a masked puppet” the man taunted.

The two of you exchanged a flurry of blows, each one testing the other's limits. For a moment, you thought you had him, your blade finding an opening in his defense. But then, he sidestepped with surprising speed, his sword coming down in a powerful arc.

You raised your blades to block, but the force of his strike was immense. His sword slammed into yours, the impact sending a shockwave through your arms. Before you could recover, his next strike came, aimed high.

His blade scraped against the edge of your mask, and you felt it-the sharp crack of the material breaking under the pressure.

For a heartbeat, time seemed to slow. You felt the pieces of your mask splintering, the fragments falling away from your face and scattering onto the deck.

The man froze for a split second, his eyes widening in shock as he took in your uncovered face. The noise of the battle seemed to fade for an instant, the world narrowing to just the two of you.

You didn't hesitate. Using his momentary distraction, you surged forward, your blade slicing through the air. The fight wasn't over-not yet-but you knew one thing for certain: the secret you had guarded for so long was now exposed.

The man fell before you, your blade driving cleanly through his chest as he crumpled to the deck. You pulled your sword free, standing over him, but the usual sense of victory that came with a kill was absent. Instead, a cold weight settled in your chest.

Your mask was gone.

You could feel the open air against your face, the stares of those around you. The battle continued to rage, but in your world, time seemed to slow, every sound muffled as if you were underwater.

Your hand instinctively twitched toward your face, but there was nothing to cover it with. The scar- the mark that had defined you in more ways than one-was exposed to the world. It stretched from the corner of your lip to the middle of your cheek, a cruel, jagged line that almost mimicked a half-smile.

A mockery.

You didn't need to look around to know what they were seeing. A warrior, unmasked, scarred, and vulnerable. The thought alone made your stomach churn, a bitter taste rising in your throat.

You could feel their gazes-some fleeting, others lingering. Enemies paused mid-battle, caught off guard by the sight. Even your crewmates, the ones who had fought beside you for weeks, faltered for a moment.

"Second Blade!"

The sound of Hongjoong's voice snapped you back to reality. He was fighting his way toward you, his sword cutting down anyone who stood in his path. His eyes, sharp and calculating, locked onto yours.

For a split second, you saw something there- surprise, yes, but also something else. Something softer.

You clenched your jaw, forcing yourself to focus. The battle wasn't over, and neither was your duty. You turned sharply, ignoring the weight of the stares, and threw yourself back into the fight.

But no matter how many enemies you cut down, that feeling of exposure wouldn't leave you. The scar wasn't just a mark on your skin-it was a reminder of what you'd endured, a testament to your survival. And now, everyone on this cursed ship could see it.

You had always been the Second Blade, a faceless warrior, a weapon to be wielded. But now, stripped of that anonymity, you felt exposed. Vulnerable.

And for the first time in a long time, you felt defeated.

The battle raged on, but your focus wavered, a rarity for someone of your skill. Each strike of your blade felt mechanical, detached, as though the strength you once carried had been siphoned by the shattering of your mask. The scar burned—not from pain, but from the weight of being seen.

You cut down another attacker, breathing hard as the chaos around you began to subside. The navy soldiers were retreating, their numbers dwindling under the relentless force of the Halazia crew.

"Second Blade!"

Hongjoong’s voice rang out again, this time closer. You turned to see him approaching, his sword slick with blood, his expression unreadable. Behind him, the rest of the main crew was regrouping, their faces a mix of triumph and exhaustion.

And curiosity.

You stood still as Hongjoong stopped in front of you, his sharp eyes scanning your face. He didn’t speak at first, his gaze lingering on the scar.

“Your face…” he started, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it.

“I know,” you interrupted, your tone clipped. You turned your head slightly, as if to shield the scar from his view, though you knew it was pointless. “It’s nothing.”

“Doesn’t look like nothing,” San commented, stepping up beside Hongjoong. His eyes flicked to your scar, but there was no malice there—only curiosity.

“Looks like a story,” Yeosang chimed in.

Wooyoung, leaning on his weapon with an almost playful grin added,“And you know how much we love stories around here.”

“Enough.” Hongjoong’s voice was firm, silencing the murmurs of the crew. His gaze hadn’t left your face. “Are you injured?”

“I’m fine.”

“Good.” He took a step closer, lowering his voice so only you could hear. “You don’t need to hide from me, Second Blade. Not here. Not with us.”

His words caught you off guard, and for a moment, you didn’t know how to respond. Before you could find the right words, Yunho called out.

“Captain, we’ve got their ship retreating! What’s the plan?”

Hongjoong straightened, his commanding presence returning in an instant. “Let them run. They’ll spread word of what happened here. That’s enough for now.”

The crew began to cheer, their energy renewed despite the toll of the battle.

Hongjoong turned back to you, his voice quieter but no less authoritative. “We’ll talk later.”

With that, he moved to rally his crew, leaving you standing amid the aftermath of the fight. The scar on your face still felt like it burned under the weight of their gazes, but there was something about the way Hongjoong had looked at you.

Not with pity. Not with disgust.

But with something else entirely.

You exhaled, steeling yourself. There was no room for weakness on the Halazia, but maybe—just maybe—there was room for something else.

The dining hall of the Halazia was alive with the usual banter and clinking of cutlery. Plates of food were passed around, and the crew reveled in the aftermath of their victory against the navy. Yet tonight, there was an unusual air of curiosity lingering in the room, all eyes subtly drifting to the three Nishis seated among them.

You sat at the table, your mask broken and discarded, your scar fully visible under the warm light of the lanterns. To your left, Seungcheol and to your right, Mingyu sat quietly, but the absence of their masks drew more than a few glances.

San finally broke the silence, gesturing toward the two Nishis. “Alright, I have to ask—what’s going on here? I thought the masks were, like, sacred or something.”

Mingyu, ever the more casual of the two, shrugged nonchalantly. “They are. But when an upper rank removes their mask, it’s tradition for the lower ranks to do the same. Out of respect.”

Seungcheol nodded in agreement, his tone more formal. “It’s a symbol of unity. If one’s identity is exposed, the others stand with them. It’s the least we can do.”

The room fell quiet for a moment, the weight of the explanation sinking in.

“So, you’re saying it’s because of her,” Mingi said, gesturing to you with a nod.

“Obviously,” Wooyoung chimed in, grinning as he leaned forward on his elbows. “Makes sense. She’s the top dog, after all.”

“Second Blade,” Jongho spoke up suddenly, his voice cutting through the chatter. His expression was unusually curious, his gaze fixed on you. “How did you get that scar?”

The room fell into an awkward silence, the air heavy with tension. Hongjoong, seated at the head of the table, immediately narrowed his eyes at Jongho.

“Jongho,” he said sharply, his tone carrying a warning. “That’s not your place to ask.”

But before he could continue, you raised a hand, stopping him. “It’s fine, Captain.”

You set your utensils down and leaned back slightly in your chair, your gaze sweeping over the expectant faces of the crew. It was rare for you to speak, let alone about something personal, but tonight was different.

“If you want to know, I’ll tell you,” you said, your voice steady despite the weight of the memory.

All eyes were on you now, the room completely silent as the crew waited for you to begin.

The house was cold when the men came for you. Your mother’s hands trembled as she clutched the doorframe, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. Your father stood stiffly behind her, his jaw tight as if forcing himself not to speak.

You tried to hold back the fear clawing at your chest as the soldiers stepped inside. Their uniforms were spotless, their movements brisk. You’d heard the stories—families giving up their children to the military for better housing, steady food, and money. You just never thought it would happen to you.

“Come along,” one of the soldiers said, his tone curt but not unkind.

Your mother’s lips moved, forming silent words. Maybe a prayer, maybe an apology. She didn’t look at you as she gently pushed you forward.

“Why?” you whispered, your voice breaking.

Your father’s eyes flicked to you for the briefest moment before he turned away. “It’s for the best,” he muttered.

The soldiers took you by the arms, and as they led you out of the house, the weight of abandonment settled heavily on your chest. You didn’t cry, but your throat ached from holding it back.

The training camp was a harsh, unfeeling place. From the moment you arrived, you were thrust into a world of grueling drills, barked orders, and punishments for the smallest mistakes. It was exhausting, but you pushed through, clinging to the faint hope that surviving this would lead to something better.

But then, the whispers started.

“She’s got potential,” one of the camp hosts murmured, their eyes lingering on you.

“For more than just combat,” another added, their tone making your skin crawl.

At first, you didn’t understand what they meant. But when you were summoned one evening, it became clear. The hosts eyed you like a prize, their polished appearances and honeyed words hiding something far uglier.

“She’s got a face that’ll sell,” one said, their gaze raking over you.

“Such a waste to send her to war,” another added with a smirk.

The realization hit you like a punch to the gut. They didn’t see you as a soldier in training—they saw you as a commodity.

When the general was informed of their plan, you were dragged to his quarters. General Rael was an imposing figure, his towering frame and sharp eyes making him impossible to read. The hosts explained their intentions, their voices sickeningly eager.

“She could make us a fortune,” one said, as if you weren’t standing right there.

The general listened in silence, his expression unreadable. Then he turned to you.

“You,” he said, his voice like gravel. “Come here.”

You hesitated, fear and anger warring within you, but the sharp tug of a soldier’s hand forced you forward.

Rael’s gaze bored into you for a moment before he spoke. “They think you’re too pretty to be a soldier.”

His words made your stomach churn. “I don’t care what they think,” you said, your voice trembling despite your attempt at defiance.

“Good,” he replied, pulling a dagger from his belt.

Your breath hitched, your heart racing as he stepped closer. “W-what are you doing?”

“I’m fixing the problem,” he said flatly.

The blade was cold against your skin as he pressed it to the corner of your lip. The first cut was searing, a pain so intense that you couldn’t stop the scream that tore from your throat.

“Stop!” you cried, tears streaming down your face as he dragged the blade across your cheek. Blood poured down your face, warm and sticky, soaking into your shirt.

“Stop struggling,” Rael barked, his grip like iron.

When it was over, he stepped back, tossing a rag at you. You caught it with shaking hands, pressing it to your wound as sobs wracked your body. Your legs felt weak as they gave out and collapsed on the floor.

“Still think she’s worth more off the battlefield?” Rael asked, turning to the pale-faced hosts.

They left without a word, their greedy smiles replaced with wide-eyed shock.

You sat there trembling, blood dripping onto the floor, the rag clutched tightly against your face. Rael said nothing as he turned away, leaving you alone in the dimly lit room.

That night, you lay in your bunk, the pain of the wound throbbing with every heartbeat. Silent tears slid down your face as you stared at the ceiling, your mind racing with anger, humiliation, and despair.

You weren’t just scarred—you were marked. A cruel reminder of what had been taken from you. And yet, somewhere deep inside, a spark of resolve burned.

They had tried to break you. But you would not let them win.

The room fell eerily silent as you finished speaking, the weight of your story settling over the table like a heavy fog. Your hands were still clenched tightly, the memory of the pain and humiliation as fresh as if it had happened only moments ago.

The crew, usually so brash and unfiltered, seemed almost reverent in their silence. Their eyes locked onto you, no longer the fierce, untouchable warrior they’d seen before, but a person—a woman with a past far more painful than they could have imagined.

Hongjoong’s gaze softened, his usually sharp and calculating eyes filled with something different—sympathy, perhaps, or understanding. But before he could speak, you lifted your chin, your voice cutting through the quiet like a sword.

“You wanted this,” you said, your tone firm and unwavering. “You asked. So I told you.”

The crew exchanged glances, their expressions a mix of shock, admiration, and something else—something that mirrored your own unspoken resolve.

Jongho, usually the most forward of the bunch, was the first to break the silence. “I... didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I was just curious.”

You nodded once, sharply. “Curiosity has consequences. But you wanted to know, so I told you.”

Hongjoong leaned back, his gaze thoughtful. “You’re not just some weapon, are you?”

You looked at him, eyes hardening slightly. “I never was.”

A heavy silence passed between you all, and for the first time, the crew seemed to understand you better. Not just as the deadly, cold warrior they had seen fighting beside them, but as someone who had been broken and reforged into something stronger. Something they couldn’t quite fathom, but now respected even more.

“Let’s eat,” you said, your voice cutting through the tension. “We’ve got work to do.”

And with that, the crew reluctantly returned to their meals, the weight of your story lingering in the air as they silently processed what they had learned. The bond between you had shifted, subtly but unmistakably.

The bond between you and the crew had grown stronger with each passing day, but there were moments when things shifted, when the air between you and Hongjoong became a little heavier. He noticed the way you held yourself—how you kept your distance, how you threw yourself into your duties with a fierce intensity, but never allowed yourself to relax, never allowed anyone to get too close.

One evening, as the crew settled around the ship’s deck after a long day of sailing, Hongjoong approached you. You were leaning against the mast, staring out at the horizon, your arms crossed over your chest in that familiar defensive posture.

“Second Blade,” he said quietly, standing a few paces away from you, his voice low enough not to draw attention from the rest of the crew.

You didn’t turn to face him, but you acknowledged his presence with a slight tilt of your head. “Captain.”

He hesitated for a moment, then spoke again, his words measured and thoughtful. “You’ve been through a lot, haven’t you? More than anyone should have to endure.”

You didn’t respond, your gaze still fixed on the endless ocean. You could feel the weight of his eyes on you, but you weren’t ready to let the walls down, not yet.

“I get it,” he continued, a slight edge of frustration creeping into his voice. “You’re protecting everyone else. The crew, the ship, the mission... but who’s protecting you?”

The question hung in the air, but you kept your silence. You couldn’t afford to let anyone protect you. You couldn’t afford to need anyone.

Hongjoong stepped closer, his presence a comfort and a challenge all at once. “You don’t have to do it alone, Second Blade. You’ve been protecting everyone around you, but what about yourself?”

You finally turned to look at him, meeting his gaze for the first time. There was an intensity in his eyes, a longing that you couldn’t quite place. “I don’t have time for that,” you said, your voice quiet but firm. “I have to protect the people who matter. The ones who can’t defend themselves.”

His gaze softened, and a small, understanding smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “I understand,” he said, his voice low and serious. “But while you’re out there protecting the world, let me protect you.”

Your heart stuttered in your chest at the simplicity of his words. It wasn’t just a promise—it was an offer. A chance to be seen, to be cared for. Something you hadn’t allowed yourself to consider in a long time.

“I don’t need protecting,” you said, though your voice was quieter now, less certain.

Hongjoong’s expression softened even more, his eyes holding a quiet intensity. “Maybe not from the world. But from yourself, Second Blade. Maybe you need someone to look out for you.”

For a moment, the world seemed to fall away, leaving just the two of you standing there in the soft glow of the evening. The crew continued their chatter behind you, unaware of the subtle shift in the air.

You swallowed, the weight of his words sinking in. Could you really let someone protect you? Could you allow yourself to lean on someone else for once?

But before you could speak, Hongjoong gave you a small, almost teasing smile. “I’m not asking you to let your guard down completely. Just... let me take care of you when you need it. It’s what a captain does, right?”

A small part of you wanted to refuse, to keep your distance, to push him away. But another part of you, the part that had spent so long alone, finally relented.

After a while, you sighed, “But don’t expect me to make it easy for you.”

Hongjoong chuckled, a rich, warm sound that made your heart beat a little faster. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

And as you stood there with him, the weight of his words still lingering between you, you realized something. You had always been the protector. But maybe, just maybe, it was time to let someone else guard your back for a change.

[thetxtdevil]

𝓣𝐡𝐞 𝓥𝐞𝐢𝐥𝐬 𝓞𝐟 𝓐𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐚

The Siren's Call

Siren!Soobin x Human/Fish!Reader

synopsis: The siren couldn’t do it, he latched onto your body with different intensities. His instincts wanted his talons to tear your soft flesh until the sapphire water turned into a murky red. However, something in his chest scorched every time his grip on you tightened with harm. The siren couldn’t commit to his kill.

content(spoilers): MDNI smut, mysterious, fem.reader, reader isn't a mermaid but she isn't fully human... yeah idk, my version of Nosferatu but it's of siren soobin, merpeople, biting, scratching, descriptions of blood, clit stim, soobin has two dicks, double penetration, breeding kink

word count: 4k

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

𝐎𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐔𝐏𝐎𝐍 𝐀 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄… In a land far far away, where the treetops touched the soft clouds of the sky, and the water sparkled under the glowing sun. Where mountains rose high and in which long, deep caves ran. Where the sea met the shore in a collision of tall waves. Where the undead walked among the living. Where the winged flew above the finned. In a land where things beyond any reason and rhyme existed. And amongst those very beings, within the veils of Aethera, there was…

A bright blue sky, reflecting the deep lapis ocean, becomes dark and dreary. The sun fights to shine through the grey clouds, causing parts of the atmosphere to look pink. The warm hue casts over your face, contrasting the cool waters below. It was a sight to see for the creatures in the sea to admire, something to crave for.

"Red skies at night, sailors' delight."

A groggy voice of the captain says behind you also taking a short break to look at the view. You turn your head to see all the sailors working hard on the deck of the ship. Hair flowing in the wind getting into your eyes you turn back to watch the sun disappear. A chill runs down your back, a feeling like ice water being dumped on you as a luring song reaches your ears.

A falsetto voice calls out to you, the melody is so soothing, that you touch your chest as if you could feel the song in your heart. A strong pull to the ocean had your lazy feet step closer to the railing of the ship. Your grip and feet almost felt like they were slipping, ready to fall into the salty depths. So close to reaching the unknown, you were taken away from your temptation feeling a hand grab onto you. You again turn your head to see the captain, "My lady, what are you doing?" You stutter over your words just to have the captain of the ship lose interest and continue to order the sailors around. His dark eyes rolled, and the feeling of judgment was not unfamiliar to you.

Yet you ask yourself. What were you doing? Why did you want to fall? Your worries and questions soon faded along with your memory of the beautiful song from the oceans.

Days of rocking on a ship were not for you, your eyes grew tired, and dry patches surrounded your young face. You were ready to meet your new home, to get away from the alluring sapphire waves. Thirsting to float among the sea life, but you knew you shouldn’t give in to your pleasures. The continuous nightly encounters of the same bewitching sound from the deep blue ocean weren't helping your resentment of jumping in. Every night, you couldn't help but get excited to hear the sweet sounds. It seemed to control your sleeping figure, unconsciously walking to the edge until a sailor on night duty had to drag you back to your chambers, but you would do it all over again just to hear the mystery.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

The candle-lit chamber was the only warmth you felt from the foggy day. Your maid straightens your long cream nightgown to lay nicely under the wool bedcover. She fixed your hair making sure it wouldn’t be messed up in the morning for it was your last night on the ship. “Now dear, I don’t want any of your suspicious outings tonight.” You nod your head obeying your maid’s wishes, she smiles, “Get some rest dear, you’ll be at your new home tomorrow.” Watching the woman’s lips purse huffing out the flame to your comforting candle, leaving you in the dark.

Clenching to the itchy blanket, the waves pick you and the world around you up and down. You felt used to the feeling by now; you would've been relaxed if it wasn’t for the piercing song drilling into your eardrum. Your clammy hands hooked onto the bedding, trying their best to stay put, which only made the call to you louder and more excruciating. Letting go of your stronghold on the blanket you cover your ears, clenching your eyes shut until tears were streaming down your sickly cheeks. You imagined yourself at the deck railing, lifting your fist in the pouring rain, telling the god-awful sound to stop calling for you and leave you in peace. Then the screeching melody stops.

Your body feels light. Softly opening your eyes, your breath catches in your throat, and you are in shock at your surroundings. Hunching over the wood of the deck’s rails, you were being pelted down by dagger-like raindrops. The fog was so thick the only thing you could see was the passing waters of the ocean against the ship. The wave smacks against the surface, making your body fall on the floor beneath you. You cry feeling your grip loosen, the strength of the wind and the slippery rain had your fingers shaking off of the railing. Looking back down at the crashing waves your eyes widen seeing a creature swimming near the ship with its dark long fishtail paired with sharp wings that could make it fly up and grab you. A strong gust of wind pushes the ship drastically making the floor go vertical causing you to slide down into the waters below.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

The high-pitched squawking of seagulls contrasts with the soothing tides of the beach you wake up on. Lifting your head off the sand, you wince at the aching feeling of your dry cracking skin. The environment around you was calm, the skies were a beautiful blue with fluffy peach clouds. The glitter-beige sand beneath you was soft and comforting, it almost made you want to sink in it and stay there. You scoot your bottom in the sand until you hear giggles as light as the waves. It is alluring in its way, but an unexplainable ache fills your heart, wishing your ears were filled with that falsetto song that haunted you.

Stretching out of the sand, your legs wobble fighting against gravity. You search for the uplifting giggle, it doesn’t take long to find something that leaves you astonished. Mermaids and mermen in the flesh, each sunbathing while unintentionally showing off their unique colored fishtail. Your mouth gaps like a fish out of water watching these creatures in front of you, they were something you’ve never seen before.

In the group of merpeople, you notice one merman had their attention on you. He was beautiful like a pearl sitting in a pile of rocks. He had bright, blonde hair that framed a soft face sculpted by the gods, and dewy skin that melted into the iridescent scales of his tail. The merman’s equally bright eyes look into yours, shooting worry of being caught. Your heart pounds against your chest, turning around on your heels, ready to run away until you hear a call from one of the merpeople.

“Ha! Easy pickings, stumbling into our circle.” said an indigo-tailed merman.

“This human will be fun to play with!” a yellow-tailed mermaid grins mischievously.

“S-she’s not human…” the pearl merman says, making all the merpeople’s heads turn, “Look at her, hair covered in sand, skin burnt from the sun, she’s not from the kingdom, I think she’s from a shipwreck.”

The beautiful merman’s observations made all of them look at your distant figure in intrigue. You washed up on a not-so-normal island, far from deserted, far from anything you know from your human life. The fact that you survived from wherever you came from and came upon the shore alive and in one piece could be enough to prove you weren’t like the humans hidden in the Kingdom of Aethera tucked on the island.

Stomping in the hot seaside, distraught by the predicament you have yourself in. Mind spiraling, your thoughts stumble like your feet in the wet sand. You let out a huff of defeat, feeling your face getting hot from the bubbling-up tears. The sway of the waves did nothing to calm you, canceling out your surroundings, not hearing the swishing water getting closer.

“If you’re not human, then what are you?” Your crouched body loses balance, falling into the shoreline. The yellow-tail mermaid lays on your stomach, elbows lifting her torso dripping from being in the ocean. You scrunch your eyebrows at her, not knowing what to do or say. “Where did you come from?”

You look away from the golden creature, collecting your thoughts. “I-uh, I don’t remember much,” your voice sounded spent but had the attention of the mermaid. “I was on a ship, moving to… to…” Your voice fades as if you triggered something. The siren’s call softly pierces your ears. You’ve become accustomed to looking for the creature making the sound, only to see the mermaid next to you shake her head.

Her dark spiral hair shakes with the disappointment on her face, “You must’ve been through a lot, you don’t even know how you got here.” You frown at the mermaid’s statement then hear a random giggle. “Let’s forget about the past, and play!”

Rejoining the merpeople’s circle, you thought that you had nothing else to lose. So you spent hours soaking in the sun listening to the stories of the merfolk and the island of Aethera. Eventually diving into the bright blue waters that you had been lured to yet avoiding ever since you woke up.

The chill ocean shivers up your spine, instantly cooling down your heated body. Diving into the blue water, soon being surrounded by a rainbow of tails. Splashing at each other's faces relishing in the cool breeze that naturally moved your group farther away from where you started. Passing a makeshift seaweed ball to one another, laughing at the frustrated little one who couldn’t reach for it. Everything felt nice, you felt content. You weren’t sinking in your thoughts anymore, and you were not haunted by anything.

Suddenly the water surface flushes above your head, and you are being dragged down. Fighting the capturer was no use, raising your hand to the merpeople above. They sink lower trying to reach for you until they see the dark tail and the webbed fingers that clawed at your legs. All the air escapes your lips when you watch the rainbow of tails flash away from your reach.

Drowning deep into the waters you were faced with the owner of the call that had haunted you. The creature’s talons trace the curve of your thighs to your waist, a long tail wrapping around your body. His razor teeth grin at the sight of you looking proud of his captured prey. Your mind becomes dizzy from the overwhelming events. In much need to take in air, but you can't. Your vision darkens from lack of oxygen making the creature watch your body go limp.

The siren analyzes you and your simple state, why did I pick the most beautiful human? He has been watching you for a while, admiring your interest in ocean life, smiling every time a fish jumps out of the water, and keeping count of the new barnacles that formed on the wood of the ship. Your beauty stunned the siren, how unique you looked compared to the others on deck, you danced through the crowd of men just to watch the wave pass by, salty water crinkled your blowing hair, and how alluring your eyes reflected the captivating color of the blue sea.

The siren couldn’t do it, he latched onto your body with different intensities. His instincts wanted his talons to tear your soft flesh until the sapphire water turned into a murky red. However, something in his chest scorched every time his grip on you tightened with harm. The siren couldn’t commit to his kill.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

An agonizing pain splits through your head, as you open them to the starry sky. It takes you time to remember what happened then you get a glimpse of the strange man or creature. He sat humming to himself, you were able to identify little details about him. Slouched over causing his dirty blond hair to hang over his eyes who watched as his talons traced shapes into the glistening sand. Onyx fishtail lifting at the tip, paired with bat-like wings lazily splayed out the bony structure curling in every time he breathed. His lip-biting made him look deep in contemplation.

To kill her or not to kill her.

By the state you observe yourself in, it looks like he has been fighting with himself all night. Clothes shredded and skin covered in bruises and scrapes. The scars aren't deep, bruises seem to be a mixture of love bites and forceful tugging. What did this creature want from you?

You lay there watching the siren, staring at the shoreline's roll-in. A small noise rises from his throat, a familiar song that again evokes you. It feels like mind control. Something in your chest feels like a rope is lifting you to get closer, but you feel too weak, and it hurts to get up. “W-what are you doing to me?” Your voice cracks through your dry throat.

The song abruptly pauses, and he looks back at you. You are reminded of his beauty yet you feel fear watching his wings widening in defense. His body twists on the beach, and his strong arms crawl towards you. His sharp pupils are on you, bouncing from one feature to another. You flinch when you see his taloned finger raising to your face, only to feel the light sensation of a caress.

You take another good look at the creature in the shadow of the dim night. The mixture of different species was so different, disgusting, you should hate it, but looking back at his big dark eyes you couldn’t help but melt under the gaze of his soft smile. Puffy eyes squint as he smiles, the smile that is knife-like but wide, showing off a handsome human feature of dimples. You both smile at each other like the world is somehow complete, was it because you are under the siren’s call, or was it just a rarity?

The shimmer of the damp Adam’s apple moves, and his plush lips open and close. After a while, a grunt finally forms from his mouth, “S-sor-ry” he points to himself while his eyes look over your distraught state, “f-for-give.”

Your eyes narrowed, trying to understand the siren. Your head was overwhelmed by thoughts once more. You wanted to curse yourself for feeling weak against your predator. Feeling weak to fall into the trap of forgiving him. “What do you want from me?” Your voice sounded like jagged rocks compared to the creature’s voice of smooth sand.

“I-i, t-to kill,” He pauses noticing your quicking breath rate, “b-but I can’t.” You two look into each other’s starkly different eyes. You thought to yourself, if he wanted to kill you, he could’ve done it already, unless he usually tortures his food like this. “There's something different… about you.”

You quirk your head to the side, the siren was hard to understand in general but that comment left you lost. Again, his pointed pupils rake through your body, only this time you watch as his pupils dilate into round orbs. His ragged-finned forearm lifts and taloned fingers graze your sides, big hands lightly squeezing your flesh, causing an intense warmth to build up in your stomach. His dimples pop, flashing his sharp teeth at your reaction, “S-so pretty.”

You grunt at the feeling you had from the unnerving complement. Then suddenly the creature’s teeth hid behind pursed lips, leaning in for a kiss. His surprisingly soft lips meet yours like how an ocean traces the shore. He moans tasting the salt against your cracked lips, he held himself back from using his fangs to cut your pretty lips. Breathlessly, you tear away from the siren's hold to see him pout. You felt like a lost cause, barely remembering your past, being torn away from the merpeople, stuck on an unusual island, and now you’re kissing a creature who’s put you under some type of spell. You gave up, letting the sea take you just like how it has always been, “Whatever happens to me, let me at least know your name.”

“Soobin” the siren sings his name before kissing you again. Pointed nails dig into your waist as his other webbed hand cups your face, keeping you close. A part of you was still screaming for freedom, to get away from the monster, yet you let it happen, you let Soobin do whatever he wanted. It wasn’t so torturous, the kisses traveling down your neck felt soothing with the sounds of the rising tides. Soobin’s grip on you tightens making an ache between your thighs and back arch. He clenched his fingers on your ruined dress, ripping it into shreds and leaving you exposed in front of the siren.

Every curve of your body had the creature salivating, he had never stopped to admire a human before. Soobin lowers his head, latching onto your hardened nipple. Your hands bury themselves into his sea-crisp hair, sounds bubbling in your throat. You couldn’t believe you could feel any better until you felt Soobin's nails scrape down your torso and between your legs. He made sure his talons didn’t poke at your sensitive flesh as the nubs of his fingers rubbed soft circles. The siren shivers at the wetness he discovers while touching you wanting nothing more than to have his dicks in it.

Whimpers passing through your plush lips were music to Soobin’s ears. His dimples were very evident as he cherished your withering state. Never having the pleasure of being touched, never in your wildest dream would you think it would be by such a dream before you. Your insides were tightening, you were seeing stars among the stars as your whole body shook. A cry of your orgasm awakens the quiet beach granting a smile from the siren.

You black out for a moment from the immense pleasure to be brought back to reality feeling Soobin’s tongue back to your tits. Stuttering his name you were faced with his dilated pupils that sparkled like the sky. The siren starts to hum against your skin, becoming more obsessed with you by the minute. The song fades in his throat before his deep voice asks, “Can you take me in, all of me?”

Again, you give Soobin a questioning look, not experienced with the creature and the situation. Scanning his prideful face, your eyes drift down to find something peculiar. Among the siren’s deep ebony tail, the scales around his v-line lifted to two erected dicks standing side by side. A deep gulp passes through your throat glazing back at the creature’s eyes. “C-can you?” He grunts, scooting impossibly closer to you, bodies molding into each other. You feel his bulges against your cunt causing your breath to hitch. His round nose outlines your cheek and leaves pecks waiting for your answer. A soft, “O-okay” made Soobin’s keen teeth flash in response to yours.

He hums the tune that has haunted you all the many nights before this one as he deeply kisses you. However, this time you didn’t get agitated by the vocals, instead you felt calm, knowing he was right there. He lines one of his dicks to your cunt, slowly slipping the tip in, not furthering his movements until he has his other pulsing cock line your ass. You whine loudly, eyes clenched tight, digging your nails into his arms. The siren kisses your neck soothing your nerves, while pushing into you. Soobin stayed still, he felt high off the feeling of your holes clenching around him, becoming addicted to your warmth and slickness. The creature couldn’t hold himself back any longer, and like how he swims in the deep sea, his hips skillfully thrusting into your two weeping holes

Overwhelmed by the mix of pain and pleasure, sweat accumulates on your burnt skin as you start to feel light-headed. The moon rises overcasting silver hues over you two. The wind picks up the shoreline getting closer to your connected bodies. Water splashes onto your form making you both gasp at the freezing temperature. Soobin’s furrowed eyebrows relax, opening his eyes, a crooked smile forms seeing your head thrown back moaning out to the gods. Eyes study your complexion to notice your goosebumps turning. “So, this is why I couldn’t kill you.” Too deep in your state of pleasure you don’t realize your changing appearance. Soobin grazes his fingers along your smooth skin that sporadically becomes bumpy, as red scales form. “Red skies at night, a siren’s delight.”

The sight would be alarming to the usual but Soobin was the unusual. He admired the gills splitting on your neck matched his dark love bites next to them. The glow of rubies on your skin caused hunger within the siren. Soobin wanted you more than he ever did. Pulling himself out, you whined loudly. The instant emptiness made you grab onto the siren above you. With both dicks in his webbed palm, he lines both of them into your cunt. Your eyes widen, “Soobin, I don’t think I can-”

“You can and you will.”

All this time he thought his instincts were encouraging to kill you, but now he realized this was different. Heat flushed through his body, groin aching to release inside of you. Needed you to take his seed, make you full and round, perfect to have his kind to sing through the sea. Your whole body felt like it was on fire, the drag of his two dicks had you screaming, overstimulated by the ache. Soobin clenches his fists in the sand, shoving all of him into you absorbing your gasps and whines against his lips. Your mouth opens feeling the siren consistently hit that perfect spot with both of his tips. His talons flow down your torse, lightly scraping the softness of your belly feel the bulging of your belly. Back arching, nails drawing cold blood from Soobin’s arms. The sea engulfs you two like a blanket, yet you feel warm, safe, and full.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

You surrendered, letting the siren consume you. This was a contract to stay in the Veils of Aethera forever. Accepting life on the unpredictable island that was haunted by demons that saved fallen angels, where witches cackled causing chaos, and a place where dragons can stretch their wings towards the cool blue sky. Just like how you felt about Soobin, you quickly learn that it wasn’t a bad place forever.

A cool morning breeze snaked up your spine, waking you up to the mixed sapphire and peach atmosphere. Stepping out of your small beach cabin, your feet sank in the damp sand from the shore flooding during the night. You took a moment to admire the view of crashing waves rolling in the rocking sound of serenity. Moving closer to the ocean, you slouch down, offering your hand to fill the salty liquid. Splashing it on your face, you hydrated the scarlet scales that still decorate your body.

A sorrowful sigh passes your lips as a weight fills your chest. For an island to be so unforeseen and full of the unusual you hate to wake up alone. The crashing sound of the ocean fades in your ears to be outcasted by the familiar falsetto song, but this time it is among multiple voices. The choir of the eerie melody brought warmth to your body, turning your head towards the call, you stop to smile.

In the distance, you can see your beloved siren sitting in the wet sand with smaller sirens surrounding him. An assortment of dury-colored fins, all sharing his complexion. One small fry on his lap, two sunbathing next to him, and three splashing their tails in the ocean. Heat rushes to your eyes seeing all of them together back to see you. The sirens call for you, like a rope tied around your heart leading you to them.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

As Always A Nuisance,

TxT’s Devil

taglist: @inkigayocamman, @biteyoubiteme, @izzyy-stuff, @hyukascampfire, @luvsicktyun, @beomiracles, @liverspaghett, @prince-jjae, @blue-moon-514

[goingsunnythousandmerry]

Sex Pollen Exposed Reader  X Captains- Shanks, Luffy, Law

Author's Note: Sorry it took me so long. The poll winner was a reader exposed to sex pollen begging her captain for help. Hope you enjoy it! Request, comment, critique below! Thanks for reading friends!

Warnings: MDNI, female masturbation, cunnilingus, fingering, P in V sex, drugged food/perfume, aphrodisiac/sex pollen, praise kink, nicknames, dom (law), needy reader, I don’t own these characters

Shanks

The Red-Haired Pirates landed on an island under their protection and decided to stay awhile to plan their next move. Last night, the crew partied hard celebrating their recent successes. The next morning the crew slept late and then ventured onto the island to start the next round of celebratory drinking. You, a member of the Red-Haired Pirates, were not quite ready to start partying again after the craziness of the previous night. Your Captain also chose to stay aboard the ship a while longer to nurse his killer hangover.

It was mid-afternoon when you wandered out from your cabin. As you creaked the door to the ship deck, the harsh sun met your eyes. You moaned in distress and covered your face with your hand and stepped out onto the deck. You took a deep breath and adjusted to the feeling of the warm summer sun soaking the exposed skin that your sundress failed to cover. The salty air helped relax some of the tension in your body from your hangover-caused headache. You wandered the ship deck looking out at the ocean and taking in the sights of the nearby island. As you glanced further up the deck, you noticed your captain sleepily resting face-first in a lawn chair. You chuckled at the sight of him. He slightly lifted his head to gaze at you over his shoulders as he heard your gentle footsteps grow close.

“Hey, Y/N. How are you feeling?” Shanks asked before burying his face back in his arm on the lawn chair.

“I’ve been better.” You replied as you rubbed your fingers on your forehead, then through your hair. “How are you, Captain?” You asked as you sat down at the edge of the lawn chair beside him.

“Been better is an understatement. Who’s idea was it to let me drink so much last night?”

“Oh, that would be no one’s, but your own.” You replied with a soft chuckle.

“The boys are already out at it again. They should be expecting us soon.”

“I’m not sure I'm ready for that.” You added as you stared over at the island beyond your ship.

“Me neither,” Shanks mumbled. “One of the local women did give me what they claimed was a hangover cure. We could try it to see if it works.” He replied as he raised his head just enough to peak up at you.

You looked over at him and smirked. He smiled back at you. As you thought about his offer you studied the man beside you. His white button-up shirt blew in the wind over his back. His red hair messily lay across his face to hide his eyes from the sun. He and his dumb white shirts were all you could think about late at night. His white shirts showed his exposed chest and only helped emphasize his muscular build. You couldn’t help but be attracted to Shanks. He was strong, kind, and a good leader. You found him very down to earth for someone of his standing as an emperor of the sea and former member of Roger’s crew. However, he was your captain, and you occasionally thought you saw a twinkle in his eye when he looked at you. You knew nothing could come of it as you were one of his subordinates. He told you as much when he allowed you to join his crew. Your recruitment was conditional based on your not sleeping with any of your crewmates. You’d rolled your eyes at him at the time, but your mind too often raced with the thoughts of the fun you could have with your captain. You breathed deeply and closed your eyes, before turning to face Shanks again.

“I’d try anything at this point.” You said through gritted teeth as you fought to see him through squinted eyes in the bright sun.

“Good. You can try it first and tell me if it works.” Shanks said as he quickly sat up. He paused before rising from the chair to bring a hand to his now-pounding head.

“Try it first?!” You yelled as you tried to stifle a laugh as you watched your captain struggle with the consequences of his drinking choices. “You good, Captain?” You asked.

“Yeah. Just got up too fast.” He replied, removing his hand from his face and blinking his eyes slowly. “I’ll go get it.”

He got up slowly from the lawn chair and found his way to his cabin, stumbling occasionally along the way. You stayed sitting on the lawn chair, closing your eyes to focus on the sound of the waves. The sounds helped soothe your aching head. A few minutes later clunking footsteps returned to your side and you opened your eyes to see Shanks handing you a bottle. You took it and studied the green bottle, the liquid inside appeared clear, but bubbly.

“What is it?” You asked as you hesitantly took off the lid and sniffed it. The liquid smelled of roses and vanilla.

“Don’t know. Like I said, a local handed it to me last night. She said it was a hangover cure. She told me to try it and let her know if it helps.” Shanks replied as he stared at you with raised eyebrows.

“Smells too sweet to be a hangover cure. You try it first.”

“No way! I like to cure my hangovers the old-fashioned way. You look rough though. I thought this could help.” Shanks said with a kind grin.

“I look rough?” You asked with a furrowed brow and pouting lips as you took a swig of the mysterious liquid.

“No. I mean. You look… I mean...I can tell you’re hungover.” Shanks stumbled over himself as he rubbed the back of his head. “How is it?”

You laughed as you looked up at him and took another sip. “Not bad. Just too sweet for me. Probably won't be able to finish it, but my stomach is a bit calmer.” You replied. “Thanks.” 

The two of you talked for a bit. You finished most of the bottle before you grew tired of the taste. Your headache felt better, but the heat bothered you a little more. Shanks eventually went to his chambers to lie down for a bit and you returned to your cabin to grab a book and read. You knew you’d inevitably have to spend another wild night with your crew, so you decided to relax. 

As you tried to focus on reading in your cabin, you realized the heat was still getting to you. Now, out of the way of the sun, you knew something else was going on. You pondered if it was just a side effect of your hangover. You’d never had one as intense as the one you’d experienced this morning and could only attribute it to the intensity of your celebration. Focusing on your book became harder as your body became restless. Your heart started to race as sweat beads formed on your brow. Your fingertips grazed your forehead to wipe the sweat. As you did, your breath stopped in your chest. You remembered the odd beverage Shanks had given to you. You feared you may have been allergic to something in it and grew nervous. You slowly and shakily rose from your bed and exited your cabin to find Shanks. A quick look around the deck resulted in no sign of your captain or your crew. You remembered Shanks had gone to his cabin to cool off and rest. You headed into the interior of the ship to find him.

Upon arriving at his chambers you hesitated, wondering if it was worth bothering your severely hungover Captain. You wiped your wet brow again and shivered at your touch. You exhaled sharply. Something was wrong with you, and you needed help. You bit your lip and shifted on your feet, clenching your thighs together. The warmth was oddly mostly in between your legs and in your abdomen. Though you felt hot everywhere, why was the heat greatest there, you couldn’t help but wonder. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath before softly knocking on the door to your captain’s cabin.

“Shanks?” You called out with a hard swallow before your teeth returned to digging into your lower lip.

“Hmm?” A voice mumbled as you heard shuffling heavy footsteps headed to the door.

The door opened and a shirtless Shanks stood in the door frame. He rubbed his still-heavy eyelids and looked at you. He blinked hard a few times and turned his head to examine you. As he looked at you, you shifted in place and wiped your forehead again. You could feel the pink hue on your cheeks as he stared at you. The heat between your legs grew as you lifted your gaze from his feet, over his naked chest, and up to meet his intense stare. 

“Y/N, are you okay?” Shanks questioned as he stepped forward to grab your waist as you stumbled where you stood.

You bit your lip harder, stifling a moan as his strong calloused hand moved to rest upon the open back of your dress. You swallowed hard as you lifted your eyes to meet his. His warm breath hit your chest, causing goosebumps to shoot up your spine. You looked at him through your eyelashes and suddenly, you found it hard to catch your breath.

“I think I may have been allergic to... To something in that drink…” You muttered as you lifted your hands to his shoulders to steady yourself.

Your hands shook as they connected with your captain’s muscular physique. You licked your lips and swallowed hard. Feeling the heat continue to grow between your legs, you rubbed your legs together as your hands slid down his chest. As your hands rested on his pecks, you realized what was happening.

“I’m fine. I just. Maybe I need to lie down for a bit.” You said with a gulp.

“No, You’re not. I’ll fetch a doctor. Here rest. I’ll see if anyone has come back yet.” Shanks said as he picked you up and carried you into his room.

His strong hand on your bare legs caused you to moan again. You tried to hide it, but you knew as the drink worked more of its magic, you were becoming weaker by the second to its tricks. The aphrodisiac in that drink was consuming your being. You felt you only had moments to act before your chest exploded with need, the need to be touched. The need to please the feral growl aching between your legs sang louder. You nodded to Shanks as he laid you down on the bed.

“I’ll be right back,” Shanks called as he anxiously ran out of the room.

You knew you only had a short amount of time. You finally knew what your symptoms were. You knew how to satisfy them. Satisfy the need. You only hoped you could do it before your captain came back. You couldn’t think clearly about the consequences or the embarrassment if you couldn’t. All you could think of was the need. You had to touch yourself. 

You wiped your brow with your right hand and licked your lips. You delicately traced your fingers down your neck until your fingertips met the soft tissue of your breast. You began pulling at the neckline of your dress, the heat within you made you feel as if your small sundress was too much. As the fabric moved it grazed your erect nipples, sending a chill throughout your body. Your breath grew shallow and quick as one hand played with your breasts and removed them from the thin fabric of your dress. The heat between your legs beckoned louder as your other hand traveled down the soft fabric across your abdomen. Your hands stopped at the hem of your dress and rested upon your thigh. 

Your thumb and forefinger squeezed and twisted at your nipple causing a small moan to escape your lips. Your eyes closed and you laid your head back into Shanks’ pillow. The fingers of your right hand now drew circles upon your inner thigh as they inched closer and closer to your core. You bit your lower lip and hooked your pinky and ring finger around the string of your thong, pulling it down to your ankles. The cold air on your soaking wet core caused your breath to catch in your throat. Your fingers slid back up your legs to your core where they became mesmerized in tracing the shape of your slick sex. You bent your knees, placing your feet flat and wide on the bed beneath you. You clamped down as your fingertips brushed against your clit.

As you played with yourself, one hand on your breast the other at your core, the need to touch yourself from the sex pollen consuming you, the world around you faded away. Drool dripped down your chin as your teeth dug deeper into your bottom lip. Sweet moans escaped your lips as your fingers dipped into and stared scissoring in and out of your entrance. Finally, caving to the feral need within you, you didn’t notice the footsteps or the voice calling.

“Y/N, everyone is still gone. I’ll go ashore and get…” The voice began from down the hall but stopped as its owner found himself at the entrance to the bedroom.

Shanks stopped dead in his tracks just outside the room. Before him was you in the bed where he left you, only you were in a new state. Soft moans were filling his ears as you lay half-naked with your fingers pounding in and out of your core. Your eyes were closed and your head was back against his pillow. Your hips ground to meet your palm. His breath caught in his chest as he watched you with wide eyes. He gulped hard and stepped into the room, saying your name louder this time.

“Y/N.” Shanks said.

Your eyes shot open, your ring and middle fingers still deep in your core. Your hips stopped mid-buck. Your breathing stopped completely as you lifted your head from the pillow to look at the man standing at the end of the bed. His dark eyes met yours, pausing to examine the dark red hue upon your cheeks.

“Shanks.” You begged with a hard swallow. “There... There was sex pollen in that drink.” You stuttered out through blinking eyes.

“What?” He asked with furrowed brows.

“Captain.” You began as you opened your eyes wider and looked him up and down. “I need…. I need help.” You begged again as you licked your lips and panted through a long blink.

“Help? What?” Shanks replied, a pink hue growing deeper upon his face.

“Please, Captain. I know.” You swallowed hard and nodded your head. “I know your rules, but please, my fingers aren’t enough.” You said as you removed your fingers from your entrance and sat up on your elbows. “Shanks fuck me.”

Shanks stared at you in awe. Your thoughts were clouded by the aphrodisiac, which drove you to be so forward. Your heart raced as you stared at him. You were embarrassed by the situation, but you needed your needs met or you felt like you’d die. He took a deep breath and lowered his arm to the buttons of his white shirt. Your gaze fell to the waist of his pants, where you noticed a bulge growing beneath the fabric of his patterned trousers. A smile grew across your lips. 

“I suppose.” He started to speak. “I suppose I did give you that drink. I promise I didn’t know what it was. I’ve heard of sex pollen, so if you want my help… As your captain, I will serve you. Truth be told, I’ve always wanted to.” He replied as he finished undoing the last button of his shirt. He lifted his chin, so his eyes met your gaze.

“Please, Captain. I need you.” You moaned as you clenched down at nothing but the thought of him preparing to enter you.

He unbuttoned his pants and slowly pulled them down, letting them hit the floor at the foot of the bed. Your eyes fell to his pelvis where his member sprung out in front of him. You swallowed hard as you stared at it. It was larger than you could have imagined and you weren’t sure how you were going to take all of him. All you knew was that you needed him. He crawled on the bed and straddled you. His length hit the top of your core as he positioned himself over you. You laid your head back on the pillow that rested behind you. He used his arm to remove the dress from your waist and took a moment to take in the site of your naked body.

“Damn, Y/N. You’re beautiful.”

“Shanks, I need you.” You cooed as your hands traced the shape of his muscles on his chest. 

“As you wish, my dear,” Shanks said as he positioned the pink tip of his erect member at the entrance of your core.

You rested your palms flat on his chest as he gently pushed his large head into your entrance. You closed your eyes and spread your legs farther. You focused on the feeling of his veiny length as he entered deeper into you. When he was a third of the way in you couldn’t help but clench down and moan at your newfound fullness. He pushed into you until he was almost filling you. Then he leaned over and put an arm on the bed next to your head. You put your arms around his neck and took a moment to breathe and adjust to him within you. You closed your eyes. He stared at your breasts and watched the rise and fall of your chest as your hips began to wiggle against his length.

“You feel so good around me. So tight for me.” He whispered in your ear.

“Shanks…” You said through blinking eyes.

“Are you ready to take me like the good girl you are?” 

You nodded your head against his cheek. His length backed out of you and paused at your entrance. You whined as you clenched at the emptiness and your hips writhed at the need to be filled again growing within you. Shanks chuckled to himself, then slammed his length into you. He thrust in and out of you causing his bed to rock against the wall of his cabin. You moaned as his tongue met your breasts and he continued to slam into you.

“Shanks!” You yelled as he thrust into you again, causing your eyes to cross.

“So needy for me, you forget who I am. Who am I?” He quickened his pace.

“Captain. Yes. Captain. Yes!” You yelled as Shanks one-handedly lifted your hips from the bed, to enter you further.

With his next slam, his balls slapped against your pelvis. You moaned and a low growl escaped his lips. Drool dribbled down your chin. Your legs went limp beneath you. The new position allowed his length to slam against your cervix, sending a new shooting sensation within you. His length was perfectly stroking your g-spot as he railed you. The heat filled your abdomen. 

“Captain gonna…”

“Me too. Scream my name.”

Shanks thrust faster and faster until fireworks exploded within you.

“Shanks! YES!” You yelled as your body shook beneath him.

Your juices dripped from your entrance as Shanks continued to plunge in and out of you through your ecstasy. He gripped your waist tighter as his member twitched within you. A new warmth filled within you as his juices filled you. He moaned through clenched teeth. You panted as the two of you stayed interconnected, recovering from your highs. Your legs still shaking slightly, you wiped your forehead and raised a hand to tuck a piece of hair behind his cheek. He opened his eyes and smiled at you as he caught his breath.

Shanks removed himself from between your legs and you immediately missed the fullness of him. He took a deep breath and inched his way up the bed until his face was next to yours. A smirk grew across his face as his warm breath hit your cheek. His eyes flicked from meeting yours to your wet lips. He licked his lips and gently pressed them to yours. You closed your eyes and pressed your soft lips against his firm ones. Your lips parted and he fell beside you on the bed.

“Thank you.” You mustered out between breaths.

“Why did we wait so long?”

“You had a rule?”

“Thank goodness rules were meant to be broken. You are incredible.”

“Y/N. Captain. Where are you? It’s time to party!” Lucky Roo yelled from the main deck of the ship.

“Shit,” Shanks said as he jumped from the bed and tossed his pants on.

“Get rid of them fast. This isn’t out of my system yet.” You called.

“Oh, I’m not going anywhere. Don’t let me find you in the state I did earlier, that’s your Captain’s territory now. Be right back.” He said with a wink as he tossed on his white button-up and headed out the door.

Luffy

You and your crew had just landed on a new island. You paired off and were all ready and excited to explore. Today, you were teamed with your captain, Luffy. After you went and found some food to eat and a bit of trouble, you and Luffy bumped into Sanji. Sanji was flirting with a woman and bragging about some spectacular dessert he had been working on for the ladies in your crew. Sanji had come ashore only to find one last ingredient for the topping. Luffy overheard this and only heard about the desert in the fridge. He grabbed your hand and dragged you back to the ship, where he tried to find a way to pry the locked fridge open. Yes, you were assigned to keep him out of trouble, but Luffy’s food antics with Sanji always amused you too greatly for you to stand in the way.

During your excursion with Luffy, you found a unique chocolate shop and bought a bar of chocolate with raspberry filling. The proprietor had spoken about the notable abilities of the chocolate from the section in which you chose your chocolate bar. However, you were too busy prying Luffy out of the extra-milk milk chocolate fountain to hear what they said.

Now, you grew hungry watching Luffy work at the fridge lock, so you decided to try your chocolate bar. He also grew hungry as he heard the crinkle of your chocolate bar wrapper. He then chased you around the ship trying to steal it until you eventually swallowed the chocolate bar to prevent your captain from getting it.

After the chocolate bar debacle, Luffy returned to the fridge and you sat at the kitchen table watching him and reading a magazine. As you flipped through the pages of your magazine you noticed the room began to grow very warm. You wiped beads of sweat from your face and your mouth grew dry. You stood up from your seat and walked to a cabinet to grab a glass of water. As you reached into the cabinet above your head for a glass your shirt lifted from your abdomen. The cool sensation of the air on your exposed skin gave you goosebumps. 

You filled your glass and brought the smooth glass rim to your lips. As you sipped, you felt the heat move down your body. You wiped your forehead and shifted where you stood. A loud crash from Luffy’s attempts to open the fridge beside you caught your attention. You swiveled your head and looked at your captain. His sleeves were rolled up, exposing his biceps, and his teeth clenched as he launched himself back at the locked fridge door. You swallowed hard as you watched his muscles flex as he pulled at the lock mechanism. 

A dizzying sensation now electrified your body. The heat intensified in your abdomen and between your legs. You reached for the counter to ensure you wouldn’t fall. You blinked trying to regain your composure as you stared at your captain. Your breathing changed, catching Luffy’s attention. As he looked up at you he noticed a red hue across your cheeks.

“Y/N, are you alright?” Luffy questioned as he hung off the fridge lock. 

“I’m fine… I.” You said as you wiped another bead of sweat from your forehead.

Luffy jumped to his feet and walked over to you. You wobbled where you stood and you blinked your eyes shut. He raised the back of his palm to his forehead. His touch sent shockwaves throughout your body. A small moan escaped your lips. Your eyes shot open and you stepped back from Luffy’s hand. Something was wrong and Luffy knew it. Luffy turned his head at the noise you made. He lowered his hand from your face and studied you for a moment. Your eyes fell from meeting his dark ones to his toned chest. The heat between your legs grew. You recognized the need building within you. You started to squirm. You felt the wetness between your legs as your thighs rubbed together. You brought a hand to your mouth and raised your eyebrows. You stepped back from Luffy, his brows furrowed.

“I’m going to go lay down.” You said as you bowed to him and ran off to your room.

Luffy watched you bump into a chair and the table as you quickly tried to exit the kitchen. He rubbed the top of his head as he watched you fumble with the doorknob and leave the room, the door slamming behind you. He knew something was wrong, but he didn’t know what.

You pulled the door to your bedroom shut behind you and leaned your back against the door. Your breathing was quick and your entire body felt like it was to explode. You couldn’t believe Luffy barely touching you made you feel so good, made you moan. You knew that chocolate… the unique ingredient for that one dumb bar you chose, had to be sex pollen. You fell to your knees and your legs spread wide on the floor. Your eyes darted back and forth as you tried to think of what to do. The feral need between your legs grew and caused your entire body to ache to be touched. Dirty thoughts filled your brain.

Your crew was gone and hopefully, Luffy was too oblivious to realize what was going on. He probably wouldn’t check on you either, he would probably keep working at opening the fridge lock. You had read about sex pollen, appeasing the need was the only way to curb the feeling. The feeling, the heat within you was intense, you felt like your body would explode if you didn’t give it what it craved. You threw off your clothes and crawled under your covers. The friction of your bedspread caused another soft moan to escape your lips as you laid it over you. 

You swallowed hard and took a deep breath, then gave in to the need. Your fingertips traced up and down the shape of your body before gliding to your erect nipples. There, they twisted and flicked causing your knees to bend inward. A moan escaped your lips. You raised a finger to your mouth and licked it before dragging it back down to your sensitive buds. You licked your lips as you continued to play with your plump breasts and perky nipples.

Heat and wetness grew between your legs and you knew your nipple play wasn’t enough. You craved more. Your eyes closed and you licked your lips. Your hands slid down your abdomen to your inner thighs, pulling the bedspread that covered you with it. Your thumbs brushed the top of your core. The world around you drifted away, as you focused on the dance of your fingertips and the cool air on your exposed breasts. Your right pointer and middle finger found your clit and drew shapes upon it. Another moan escaped your lips as your legs bent and straightened beneath your touch.

“Y/N.” A voice at the end of your bed spoke.

“Luffy!” Your eyes shot open and you removed the hand from between your legs to pull the bedspread over you.

You breathed hard and fast as you stared at your captain. Your body wiggled uncontrollably with need under the bedspread. You licked your lips again and swallowed hard. You tried to think of what to say to your captain, but you were focused on one thing.

“Luffy.. The chocolate.” You stuttered out. “It made me… made me sick. Now I have to...I have to help myself get better.” You swallowed hard again. “So help me… or get out.”

He stared at you blankly and blinked a few times. Your head fell back into the pillow behind you. You couldn’t take it anymore. The middle fingers of your left hand traced up your thigh and raised to rub at your slick. The fingers of your right hand returned to teasing your clit. Your eyes closed as your legs widened apart. You let out a slow controlled breath as your body rocked up and down.

A weight pushed your upper arms further into the mattress, pulling your hands from your core. Your eyes shot open as you lifted your head from the pillow. Luffy was straddling your abdomen and pushing your arms into the bed, preventing you from playing with yourself. His head was tilted down, so his hat casted a shadow over his eyes. Your eyebrows raised as you stared at him on top of you.

“Luffy.” You begged through a shaky breath.

“Help you how?” He asked, still not lifting his chin.

“Touch me. Eat Me. Fuck me. Luffy I need…” You continued to beg as you wiggled beneath him. “Captain, I need…”

He only pushed your arms deeper down into the mattress. Your tongue slid through your pressed-together lips. You laid your head back and closed your eyes. Your breathing was rapid and short. Luffy’s hand let go of your wrist. As you looked back up at him, he took off his hat and set it on the nightstand beside you. His eyes met yours, his pupils were pinpoint, his jaw clenched, and his brows furrowed. He nodded at you and returned his hand to your wrist.

“I’ll help you. I could use a snack.” Luffy said sternly as he sat back on the bed and repositioned between your legs.

“Luffy…” You said as your eyebrows raised and your lips fell agape.

You’d always been interested in your captain, but you didn’t know how he felt about you. Sure, he put his arms around you more than Nami and Robin, but Luffy was a touchy-feely guy, so you didn’t think much of it. The man had Boa Hancock begging at his feet and he didn’t act. You thought he just wasn’t capable. With two older brothers and two years with Silvers Rayleigh, you had hoped Luffy knew what sex was. You’d wanted to have sex with him many times, you had desired to kiss him many times, but you were too afraid. Now, here was your captain pulling off the blanket that covered your naked body and positioning his face in front of your sex.

Luffy licked his lips as he stared at your entrance. His hands clamped down tighter on your wrists. A smile grew across his face as his eyes flicked up to connect with yours. His tongue licked from the base of your core to your bundle of nerves causing your knees to bend inward.

“LUFFY.” You moaned. 

He used his legs to pry yours apart and keep them open as he continued to trace your slick with his tongue. You clenched down as his tongue traced shapes on your clit as your legs fought against his. Luffy’s licks intensified a moment, then slowed. Your eyes blinked closed, your head tucked further into the pillow behind you. Luffy knew what he was doing.

“You taste so good, beautiful.” He said between your folds.

“Cap-captain. Luffy. Please!” You begged for more. 

His tongue lapped at your wet folds and circled at your entrance a moment before returning to teasing your clit. The heat began to grow within you. Luffy’s hands loosened from your wrists and slid up your abdomen to your breasts. He caressed the bases of your breasts as his tongue slid down your slick to your entrance. His fingertips teased your sensitive nipples as his tongue stretched and dove within your entrance.

“Luf-fy.” You muttered out as drool dripped down the side of your mouth.

Luffy’s tongue stretched and teased your G-spot. He let out a moan as he took another taste of you. The heat built within your core as your teeth bit deeper into your bottom lip. Your legs continued to fight against him. Your hands fell to his head and your fingers curled in his black locks.

“Luffy. Gonna cum.” You whispered as your hips thrut into his face.

“You’re beautiful. Let go for me.” He commanded sternly.

His left hand left your breast and started rubbing fervently at your clit. His tongue returned to your entrance where it slid back inside of you. It pounded and rubbed energetically at your G-spot. The heat in your abdomen exploded. Fireworks shot from within you and trailed across your body. Your legs shook and your toes curled. Your juices squirted out and covered Luffy’s tongue and chin. 

“LUFFY. YES. YES. YES CAP-TAIN.” You screamed as your eyes squeezed tighter shut.

His hand continued at your clit and his tongue licked you clean until you came down from your high.  You loosened your grip on his hair and moved your hands to his back. His head rose from between your legs and he scooted up the bed to lay beside you. He rested on his side facing you. He watched as you tried to catch your breath and recover from the pleasure he brought you. He was mesmerized by the rise and fall of your breasts. As your eyes blinked open, you caught him staring and turned your head to smile at him. His eyes lifted to meet yours.

“Thank you, Luffy.” You said between pants.

“Feeling better?”

“I think so. But…”

“Hmm..? He questioned as he sat up more in the bed.

“That was amazing, but I may need more before this is out of my system.”

A grin grew across Luffy’s face.

“Good. I wasn’t done with you yet. I still have a lot I want to try.”

Law

You and your crew, the Heart Pirates, landed on a new island. You set off with Bepo, Penguin, Ikakku, and Shachi, ready to explore. Your captain stayed aboard the ship to reorganize the medical bay. He tasked you with picking up some groceries while you were away. You and your crewmates grabbed some lunch and then strolled through a market.

At the market, you and Ikkaku stopped to sniff at a perfumery to sniff perfumes. The stall vendor had stepped away as you browsed. You found and picked up a pretty bottle from a raised pedestal. You Noticed a warning label on it, but the warning was smudged. You took the cap off and smelled it. You were enraptured by its scent. It smelled of gardenia, rose, and vanilla. You described it to Ikakku, who only grimaced in response to your description because she hated floral-scented things. You took another deep sniff of the scent. 

Penguin and Shachi called to hurry you along. They’d found a fresh vegetable stall for you to pick up the groceries Law requested. You replaced the cap on the bottle and set it back on its pedestal. Stepping back from the stall, you adjusted the bag on your shoulder and headed off to find your crewmates. 

At the vegetable stand, you pulled out the list Law gave you and picked the ingredients he requested. Your crewmates ditched you for a nearby fried seafood stall. As you paid, a new wave of warmth overtook you. Your head suddenly felt very hot and light-headed. As you took the bag of ingredients from the shopkeeper, you felt restless. You wiped your forehead as you headed to the nearby stall to meet your crewmates. You arrived, groceries in hand, brows furrowed, as you tried to analyze how you felt. The warmth pooled in your stomach and made you feel a bit nauseous.

“Y/N, are you feeling okay?” Ikkaku asked as she stared at you wide-eyed.

“I don’t know. Maybe I’ve been in the heat too long.” You replied as you shifted where you stood.

“Your cheeks are pretty red and you look pale. Maybe you should head back to the sub and have Captain check you out.”

“I’m sure, I’m-” You started to speak as the heavy heat spread across your body again.

You stumbled, but Ikakku caught you. You looked up at her and gave her a soft smile. The wind blew past you as you took a deep breath. You stood tall and clutched your grocery bag closer to your chest.

“Maybe you’re right. I’ll head back to the sub.”

“Want us to walk you?” Penguin and Shachi asked.

“No thanks, I’ll be fine.”

As you walked yourself back to the sub, your symptoms got worse. You couldn’t stop licking your lips and occasionally had to stop to catch your breath, rubbing your thighs together as you did. When you reached the sub, you swung the door open, it creaked. You headed to the galley and started unpacking the groceries. You repeatedly had to wipe your forehead as you did. You continued to restlessly rub your thighs together as you placed the groceries in their homes throughout the kitchen. Law entered the doorway to the kitchen and stared at you with his head turned.

“Y/N. Are you feeling alright?”

You placed the two tomatoes in your hand on the counter. You leaned over and griped at the counter for stability. You shook your head in his direction, squeezing your eyes and your legs shut. Your breathing was short and quick as you lifted your chin and opened your eyes to face your captain. Your cheeks still had a pink hue resting on them. You licked your lips as you stared at him. His jaw clenched.

“Come to the medical bay, I’ll check you out.”

You released your grip on the counter and headed to the doorway where your captain stood. You were still a bit wobbly on your feet, but when Law reached out to assist you, you shook your head and raised a hand. You walked past him and headed down the corridor to the medical bay. Your arms crossed over your waist, your fists clenched as you walked. You focused on taking slow deep breaths as you entered the medical bay and sat on the patient bed raised into a seated position. Your hands fell to your lap and gripped at the hem of your skirt.

Law pulled a stool up to you and grabbed a thermometer and stethoscope off the counter. He put the thermometer under your tongue. You closed your eyes waiting for it to beep signifying the reading was done. You swallowed hard as Law felt your wrist for your pulse. His calloused fingertips grazing your soft skin made you let out a soft hum in pleasure. You furrowed your brows and blinked your eyes open to half-lididly gaze at Law. Your breathing was still shallow. The thermometer beeped.

“Pulse is fast, temperature is just a bit high, but nothing to be concerned about. Let me listen.” 

Law placed the head of the stethoscope between his middle and ring finger. He stood up from the stool and set it on your back against your button-up shirt. You did your best to take a deep breath as he moved the stethoscope around to listen to your lungs. Then, he moved to stand in front of you. He opened the front of your button-up shirt a bit more and set the cool head of his stethoscope on your upper chest. Another soft hum escaped your lips. He moved the stethoscope around your chest and you did your best to take deep breaths. When he finished, he stepped back from you and removed the stethoscope from his ears, putting it back on the counter.

“What are your symptoms?” He asked as he stared at you.

“I… I feel hot all over, but especially in my abdomen. It’s almost nausea, but not. I’m restless like my body needs to do something or… I don’t know. I’ll explode? I’m tired, but I’m wide awake and my heart is racing. Law, what’s wrong with me?” You asked, looking at him and swallowing hard.

“Let me look something up,” Law said as he stepped out of the room to his office.

You leaned back in your seat. Your body felt hot everywhere like you were wearing too many clothes. You unbuttoned your button-up shirt figuring Law had seen you in a bikini, what was the difference between that and a bra anyway? Your hands fumbled with the hem of your skirt and raised it, so it covered just your upper thigh and sex. You rubbed a hand down your neck and upper chest, closing your eyes as you did, releasing a heavy exhale.

“What did you do today?” Law called from the next room as you overheard him rifling through pages of a book.

“Umm.” You hummed as you brought your hands back to your sides and gripped the cushion beneath you. “I had some lunch, then strolled through jewelry and clothing stalls. I tried to keep Bepo, Shachi, and Penguin out of trouble. I smelled some perfume at a perfume stall. Then, I went and got the groceries you wanted.” You stated with a hard swallow as you stared up at the ceiling.

The book slammed shut and you heard footsteps in his office.

  “What kind of perfume did you smell?” Law asked.

“I don’t know, it was floral. It.. It did have a weird label on it, I couldn’t make out.”

You heard the rifling of pages of another book. Your hips wiggled where you sat. You couldn’t take it anymore. The only thing making you feel better was fingertips gliding across your skin, whether yours or someone else's. You rubbed your thighs together and brought your right hand to your chest. You exhaled as your fingers brushed across your cleavage, legs still wiggling beneath you. Another book shut and footsteps grew nearer to you. You lifted your left hand from the cushion and squeezed your knee. You opened your legs wide and took a hard deep breath. Your thumb rubbed circles on your inner thigh. You clenched down at the sensation. You gasped and your eyes shot open to face the ceiling above you. You lifted your head and your eyes met Law’s grey-gold ones, where he stood in the doorway between his office and the medical bay.

The pink shade across your cheeks turned darker red. You licked your lips and gulped. He took a deep breath and set down the book in his hand on the counter next to him. He stared at you blankly with a clenched jaw.

You had always found your Captain attractive, always wondered what those tattooed fingers would feel like gliding across your curves. He was your captain and you knew he would never let anything happen between the two of you. However, that never stopped him from gazing at you too long when he thought you weren’t looking, eyeing your body whenever you stepped outside your boiler suit. 

“Captain.” You said with a whimper in your voice.

Here you were, sitting in front of him, legs open wide, just enough so he could make out the cloth of your panties. Shirt unbuttoned exposing your bra-clad breasts. Your hand was halfway up your thigh and gripping it tightly. Your hips restlessly rocking with need. He’d never seen you look more beautiful than you were then.

“Captain. I-...” You started.

“I know. You were exposed to sex pollen. Now you can’t help…” He swallowed hard as he stared at you. “But need to touch yourself.” He replied as he looked down at the floor in front of him. 

Your eyes shot wide open and your jaw dropped. 

“Captain, please.” 

Law’s gaze shot up to meet yours. You sat upright and removed your hands from your chest and thigh. His eyebrows furrowed and his teeth clenched tighter as he looked at you.

“Captain, please. I don’t have a lot of practice. I–I feel like I’m going to burst. Can you help me? Please.” You said with a gulp.

His breath caught in his throat as he thought over what you just said to him. His eyes lowered to the rise and fall of your chest, rise and fall over your breasts. A smile grew across his face. 

“It is a Captain’s job to serve his crew.” He said as he took a step towards you. 

You exhaled deeply. Law sat on the stool in front of your raised seat. His eyes stared up into yours, the grin still plastered on his face. Your tongue stroked your top lip as your eyes darted to stare at his lips. Law sat forward and whispered in your ear. His hot breath on your neck made you let out a soft moan.

“Since the day you joined this crew, I’ve watched you stare at my hands. Today I’ll give you what you’ve always wanted… them inside you.”  

“Please. Captain.” You begged through shaky breaths.

You gasped as his lips hit your neck and his hands met your knees. You moaned as his lips trailed down your neck to bite your collarbone. His right hand slid up your inner thigh and rested at the hem of your folded skirt, just in front of your sex. You wrapped your arms around Law's neck and twirled your fingers in the base of his dark locks. His left hand lifted your breasts from their clothed cage. His head fell lower and paused in front of your now exposed breasts. You watched a wider grin form across his face as he stuck out his tongue. Wetness covered your chest as his tongue flicked at your erect buds. You began to pant as Law’s right hand traced your wet slit through the cloth between your legs. 

“So wet for you captain. Can’t wait to feel you clench around my fingers.”

“Captain. Need you. Please!” You begged as you squirmed beneath his fingers still playing with your clothed sex.

Your head fell forward to rest on his shoulder. Law lifted you from your seat and pulled the cloth from between your legs. You breathed raggedly as his right hand teased your nipples and his left glided up your legs to meet your soaking wet core. His left hand fell from your breast to your waist. Your eyes blinked closed as his right hand traced up your slick and softly brushed your clit.. Your body wiggled beneath his touch.

“Law please.” You begged.

He pulled you closer to the edge of your seat before his thumb met your bundle of nerves. He rubbed circle after circle changing pressure and speed as he played with your clit. You moaned in his ear.

“Law.” You begged.

“I’m your captain, address me as such.”

“Captain… please. I need you inside me.”

“Such a slut for these fingers. Let's see you take them like the slut you are.”

Law’s thumb stopped teasing you as his ring and middle finger returned to your core. They separated as they toyed at your entrance. You clenched down and dug your fingers into his back. Your hips needily rocked at the edge of your seat as Law dipped his fingertips inside you. You moaned loudly as they pushed inside you. His fingers thrust in and out of you causing heat to begin to grow in your abdomen. Law tightened his grip on your waist and fought the forward pounding of your hips. He added a third finger and began rubbing his fingers upward at your g-spot. 

“Yes. Captain. Yes! So close. Please.”

“Look at you begging for these fingers, begging to come undone. Such a slut for your captain. Be a good girl now, and cum for me.” He commanded as his thumb lifted to meet your clit, increasing the intensity at which he rubbed your g-spot.

Your fingers dug into his back and you couldn’t help, but throw your head back as the heat in your abdomen built to a crescendo. Your eyes crossed as drool dribbled down your bottom lip. Your hips fought against his hold.

“CAPTAIN!”

Your juices erupted from your entrance covering Law’s hands and your upper thighs. Your legs shook against him. His fingers continued to dance within your core as you descended from your high. You pressed your wet lips to his neck and rested your forehead on his shoulder. You worked at catching your breath as Law slowly withdrew his fingers from between your legs. You sat up and your eyes met his. He looked at his wet fingers and brought them to your lips. You sucked his fingers clean and moaned as he pushed them deep into your mouth.  He removed his fingers from your mouth and placed his lips softly on yours as his hands fell to your waist. Your fingers tangled in his hair as you opened your lips wider allowing your tongue to intertwine with his for a few moments. You pulled your lips apart and rested your forehead on his.

“Thank you, captain.” You whispered.

“How do you feel?” He questioned.

“Better, but I don’t think once was enough…”

“Good. Lay back,” he commanded.

[cameronsprincess]

thinking about… blue collar!rafe coming home after a week away and he fucks you real good on the couch.

CW: blue collar!rafe, lineman!rafe, soft!rafe, unprotected piv sex, ass slapping, praise and dirty talk.

daydreams 𓆩♡𓆪 main masterlist 𓆩♡𓆪 taglist form

it’d been an entire week since he’d left for florida. his job needed all hands on deck after a hurricane had went through, and rafe, as usual, had to leave immediately and would be gone for an entire week.

you’d been checking life360 non-stop, watching and waiting until he got home. you missed him. you missed his face, his smell, his lips on yours, the feel of his strong arms around your waist at night as the two of you slept. but you were also really horny, and ready for your man to come home and fuck you good just like he always did after time away.

you squeal in excitement when your phone pings, a life360 notification letting you know he was finally home. you rush out to the front porch, jumping up and down and squealing as you watch his truck pull into the driveway.

once he’s parked and out of the truck, you take off running, jumping into his open arms and wrapping your legs around his waist. the two of you waste no time in kissing one another, mouths moving fervently together, teeth and tongues clashing as he holds you tightly against his body.

he breaks the kiss, looking into your eyes and smiling. “missed ya, sweetheart.”

your smile grows. “i missed you so much more! i’m so happy you’re home!”

he starts walking toward the front door, his right arm under the curve of your ass, supporting your weight and carrying you inside the house.

he kicks the door shut with his boot, dropping his bag on the floor and locking the door before he carries you to the couch, dropping you down onto it.

“know what i missed more than your pretty face?” he asks, smirking.

you bat your lashes and bite at the inside of your cheek, “i dunno, what?” you ask innocently.

he grips the hem of his work t-shirt, pulling it up and over his head, tossing it to the floor before undoing his belt. “missed that sweet little pussy. my cocks been achin’ for the feel of your warm, wet cunt wrapped tightly ‘round it.”

your cheeks instantly heat at his filthy words, your pussy throbbing as you watch him slide his dark denim jeans and boxers down his legs. his hard cock springs free, slapping just below his belly button. your eyes zero in on his perfectly mushroomed tip, already dripping precum.

“fuck, i missed you so much rafe, please fuck me.”

he grins, taking one long step toward you. he leans forward, gripping your ankles and pulling you toward him. he wastes no time in stripping you of your tight biker shorts and cropped tank top, leaving you in nothing but your black lace panties and bra.

“so fuckin’ pretty, my girls a smoke show.”

you blush at his praise, you always loved how beautiful he made you feel, always reminding you of how beautiful you were.

his long fingers dip into the waistband of your panties, slowly sliding them down your legs and tossing them behind him. his eyes flit down to your soaked pussy, his bottom lip brought between his teeth. “jesus christ, never seen nothin’ so pretty. already so wet f’me, go on, flip over, on your knees, ass out.”

you quickly obey his command, flipping so your back is to him. your hands grip at the back of the couch, tits pressed firmly against the cushions as you poke your ass out, swaying it side to side for him.

“fuck me, baby. please, need to feel your cock inside me!”

rafe lands two harsh slaps to your ass cheeks, making you squeal in surprise. his large hands harshly grip at the flesh, jiggling it in his hands before he slaps your ass again.

“such a needy little thing ain’t ya? beggin’ to be fucked.”

you moan out in response when he slaps your ass again. he grips his hard cock in his hands, sliding his swollen head through your slick folds. you push your ass out further, chasing the feel of him stretching you out. he chuckles, slapping your ass with his free hand and shoving his entire length inside you without warning.

you scream his name, letting your face fall into the couch cushions as you dig your nails into the back of it.

“fuck, sweetheart. your pussy is squeezin’ me so tight, i think she missed me.”

he places both hands firmly on your hips, using them as support as he begins fucking himself into you. he uses his hands on your hips to pull you back onto his cock, meeting each of his harsh thrusts.

nothing but the sounds of both your heavy breathing, moans and groans and the squelching of your pussy fill the room. rafe fucks into you hard and fast, the head of his dick repeatedly hitting at your g-spot.

your pussy clamps down around him, squeezing him tightly, causing him to groan. “shit, gonna cum inside this pretty pussy, love watchin’ my cum leak outta you.”

you whimper, your pussy pulsing as he continues to brutally pound himself in and out of you. “r-rafe, gonna… shit! gonna cum!”

“yeah? my girl gonna cum all over my cock? go on baby, cum f’me.”

rafe removes his right hand from your hip, splaying it on your stomach before running down and finding your clit. he begins running slow circles around the puffy, sensitive bud.

you moan loudly as your pussy pulses, your lower belly tightening. a warm feeling washes over your entire body, an explosion of pleasure rushing through you as you come undone around his cock. “ffffuck! i love you! holy shit!” you cry out, legs shaking.

rafe’s thrusts grow sloppy, his dick swelling inside you. you feel him twitch inside you, giving one final thrust, burying himself to the hilt before he cums too, spilling deep inside you.

the two of you are spent by the time he slowly pulls himself from inside you. he plops down on the couch beside you, head thrown back and hands clasped together on his chest. he opens one eye and turns his head to face you, “i love you, sweetheart. missed you tons.”

you fall into his arms, curling up into a ball in his lap as he softly strokes your hair. “i love you too, missed you more.”

feedback is very appreciated! ❤️