#give me something that bleeds red and we’re good

[balthazarusrex]

WIP Wednesday Game Fills

Fill requests by @adhdavinci @whimsicalmeerkat @itswrenly @twyrewolf @zyrafowe-sny @auburnlaughter @quietlysleeping @somefishycat for my future Whumpcember day 15 — Broken Glass for JayRoyTim.

Requests were made in the amazing Wednesday Wip Game Community. Thank you so much for pushing me to write! I hope you check us out and play!

This is written in tandem with @ditzyredrobin.

CW: Blood and injury

-

Tim blinked dumbly, looking up from the blood pooling in the palm of his hand. After a long pause, Tim is able to gather enough brain juice to make sense of his surroundings in the dim glow of sodium lights. “I think I’m near the video rental,” the pain is a distant thing, blood oozing between his fingers. “The one we went to last week near Rao’s.”

Jay is coming.

Jay is coming for him.

There’s soft voices over the line again as Roy seemingly relays the info before he’s back, giving Tim his undivided attention. “Jay is on his way. Can you tell me how much you’re bleeding?”

“A little,” Tim supplies numbly. “I cut my hand.”

“A little by vigilante standards or civilian standards?”

Tim pauses to think, “Civilian.”

“That’s good, I’m glad.” Roy sounds pleased and it sends a little thrill down his spine. “Lucky for you, you’re not very far from the apartment. Are you hurt anywhere else?”

Tim’s eyes burn, and he nods. “My feet hurt, I stepped on glass.”

“We can fix that.” Roy promises, muffling another yawn.

“I’m sorry.” It was late (early?) for a vigilante.

“Don’t be. You know we’re happy to help you anytime you need, even if it’s late.” Tim nods again even though Roy can’t see it, hugging his knees to his chest. The damp pavement was soaking in through his night pants sending goosebumps down his arms and legs.

He tries to will himself to say something along the lines of, I’m okay, no seriously I’m fine, or like seriously okay, but headlights illuminate the alleyway before he can say anything.

A beat up Honda pulls up in front of the alleyway, headlights illuminating it with more light than should be allowed. Tim squints against the light as Jay steps out of the beat up SUV. He rounds the hood, outlined by the headlights.

“Jay,” Tim breathes.

Roy says something but he can’t make it out, his voice a distant din, because Jay is here.

His hair is mussed with sleep with dark shadows under his eyes and a furrowed brow. One look at Tim and he’s shrugging off his leather jacket, wrapping it around his shoulders. It smells like Marlboro Reds and aftershave and it’s the first time Tim feels like he can breathe.

[moonstruckme]

Hi! I would die for a poly!marauders x reader where reader gets a bloody nose and almost passes out. This has happened to me and I wish I had the boys 😅 of course only if this sounds interesting!! 🫶🏼

Thanks for requesting love!

cw: blood, near fainting

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 642 words

You’re mid-story when Remus’ expression shifts. 

“And he didn’t even…ask…” You trail off as James’ eyes flare suddenly. Remus is scanning the room like he’s searching for something. “...what?” 

“I’m just looking for the tissues…” 

You feel your expression crease.

“Don’t worry,” says Sirius, in a no-nonsense tone you don’t hear often. “Just pinch your nose shut and close your eyes, okay?” 

“What…” You touch your fingertips to your nose, and the second the bright red pads come into your view you’re overcome by a wave of nausea. 

“Don’t, don’t.” James takes your hand, bloody fingers and all, hiding them away. Your head fills with cotton. Remus gets up and goes into the kitchen. “Baby, that’s what we’re trying to keep from happening.” 

The feel of something splattering on your thigh has you looking down on instinct. You barely process the bead of blood curving down your thigh before your vision starts to blacken. 

“Okay.” A hand cups the back of your head, cold fingers pressing into your scalp as it takes your weight, and another pinches your nostrils. “None of that, doll, c’mon. You’re okay.” 

You blink a couple of times before the fuzzy darkness clears enough for you to see Sirius in front of you. He’s the picture of calm, while James’ eyes are magnified cartoonishly wide by his glasses. It takes you a second to figure out you need to breathe through your mouth. 

Sirius nods as you inhale. “Good,” he says. “Just keep your eyes on me, doll.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” James quips, and Sirius’ lips quirk but he doesn’t take his eyes from yours. 

“It’s a happy consequence.” 

“Sorry,” you say, voice sounding whiny all stuffed up. 

“You’re good,” James reassures you. “Rem’s gonna get you cleaned up in just a second. It seems we’ve misplaced the tissues.” 

“Found them!” Remus announces from down the hall. “Who put them under the bed?” 

You and Sirius look to James. He shrugs, sheepish. “That’s my bad,” he admits. “My allergies were bothering me, and I didn’t feel like getting up.” 

“Hoarder,” Sirius accuses fondly, letting go of your nose briefly to allow Remus to swipe at the skin beneath it. 

“Close your eyes,” Remus warns softly, and this time you listen before you can see the tissue. You feel him blot at your nostrils and then wipe up the blood on your hand and leg, keeping your eyes squeezed shut tight. “Good girl.” The lid of the trash bin clangs shut. “You can open now.” 

You replace Sirius’ hand with your own, and he gives you a cautious look as he lets go slowly. “You sure you’ve got it?” He raises an eyebrow at you. “I don’t mind.” 

You smile at him, closed-lipped and trying not to think about what you’re staunching. “I’m good, thanks.” 

Remus sits back down with a heavy sigh. James nods his agreement heartily. 

“Since when do you get nosebleeds?” he asks you. 

“Since now, I guess,” you say. “It’s not my new favorite thing.” 

You’ve always fainted at the sight of blood, so spontaneous bleeding is probably one of the top ten worst things that can happen to you. 

“It’s a bit worrisome,” Remus agrees. “What happens if you’re driving and your nose starts bleeding again? You can’t very well pass out behind the wheel.” 

You level him with a deadpan look. “I’ll try to refrain.” 

“It won’t happen again,” Sirius says surely. He’s eyeing you in a peculiar way, somehow both assessing and decided at once. “We’ll figure out what caused it, and make sure it doesn’t.” 

You look to Remus for an eye roll, but both of your boyfriends look about as trusting in this plan as Sirius. 

“How?” you ask. 

He gives you an indulgent smile. “Don’t worry about it, baby. We’re not gonna let anything happen to you.”

[thedeadestartist]

To escape a time loop, the witch demands virgin blood. And well, everyone thinks they know who the virgin of the group is. And they're wrong – or are they?

✨｡⁠♡*⁠～⁠✧⁠*～⁠♡⁠｡⁠✨

“Are you completely sure they are to be trusted, Merlin? What if the witch goes back on their word!” Arthur exclaimed.

He was frustrated. But so too were the knights and Merlin. They had been wandering a neverending woodland path for what had felt like hours. After all, why would they give in to a witch’s demands before exhausting every option?

“No, Arthur!” Merlin snapped. “I am not sure we can trust them at all, but what other option do we have at this point?”

Merlin was the first to notice that they’d been looping the same path several times over, before any of the knights. This sort of magic was something he had seen before, and he knew it was the type of curse that was near impossible to break from inside the incantation area. In his mind, the witch’s words repeated endlessly.

When the knights had come across the witch, they were simply sitting by a humble campfire, watching a pot of water with herbs and leaves boil over. Of course, Gwaine had been desperate enough to accept a drink from this total stranger. And after just one sip, the witch had risen to their feet and laughed – a sound so shrill and chilling.

“And thus, thou, King of Camelot and thyne beloved knights of the round table are cursed to wander these woods for the rest of time. The world shall continue on without thee as thy kingdom crumbles. But do not despair, men of the sword. Lest you bring me 9 drops of a virgin’s blood, I shall grant thee freedom once more.”

“Alright, bickering will get us nowhere!” Leon interrupted. “Even if we were to do what the witch asks, where are we going to find a virgin in these woods if it simply keeps repeating itself?”

Percival quickly quipped, “Well, what about one of us?”

An abrupt silence descended upon the men as they exchanged glances.

“I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’ve never seen a woman within five feet of Merlin,” Elyan spoke.

The rest of the knights turned their faces towards Merlin.

Arthur smirked.

“Well go on then, Merlin. If you really think we can trust the witch, then go ahead. 8 drops of blood is barely much of a sacrifice.”

Merlin grit his teeth. It was true that he had never been… intimate with any of the ladies he had admired. But he had a feeling deep down that something was wrong. Was it because he had the blood of a sorcerer? Would it potentially backfire – put them in danger?

As he racked his brain, he heard the familiar metallic rush of a sword being drawn.

“Gwaine, what do you think you’re doing?” Arthur said firmly, as Gwaine drew his sword.

“What, he needs a blade if he’s gonna bleed, right?”

“And you think a sword is a good idea? What if he accidentally impaled himself?” Arthur barked.

The king quickly drew his dagger and handed it very carefully into the hands of his servant. Gwaine rolled his eyes and put his sword away.

“Here, Merlin,” Arthur spoke. His words were ever so slightly more gentle than his usual biting tone.

Merlin raced through his thoughts to try and come up with an excuse. The creeping feeling that this was wrong refused to subside.

Finally he blurted, “I can’t. I can’t do it.”

“Oh come on, Merlin,” scoffed Gwaine. “It’s not like we’re asking you to cut off your entire arm.”

Before Merlin could think of a good excuse, the words slipped from his lips:

“I can’t be the one to do it… because I’m not a virgin.”

There was a beat.

Then, before anyone could react, Gwaine had swiftly taken Arthur’s dagger and lightly swiped Merlin’s arm.

“Ow, Gwaine!” Merlin huffed, but it was too late.

Small red beads of blood dripped quickly from the sorcerer's arm to the forest floor. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight. Nine. The sky above them whirled and hissed, darkening in only a few seconds.

And then, the witch’s voice boomed from all sides.

“This is not the virgin blood I seek. Do not deceive me again, lest thou art willing to suffer the consequence.”

“Huh, guess he wasn’t lying,” Gwaine shrugged.

If anyone had seen Arthur’s face as the witch had spoken, they may have noticed the slight snarl of his lips, the quick flush of his face. But it soon was gone and replaced with raging concern. Tearing some cloth from his cape, the King skillfully wrapped the wound on Merlin’s arm.

“Are you alright?” he asked quickly. A little too quickly.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine,” Merlin quivered.

Perhaps if it were any other situation, he may have had his suspicions about Arthur’s tender touches. The way his king so swiftly and gently cleaned up the wound as best he could. But his mind was worrying about something else.

He was close to connecting the dots, he was sure. Virgin blood. He was a virgin, but obviously it hadn't worked. What did the witch mean by virgin if not a person who had not had sex? Virgin - what did that word mean? Pure? Untainted?

As Merlin fretted in silence and Arthur tended to him, Leon had quietly taken the dagger. And without warning—

“Ow! Okay, that actually really hurt!” Gwaine yelped.

The others turned quickly to him and watched as blood rolled down his palm and rolled off onto the forest floor.

And then, for Merlin, it clicked. Virgin blood – he had read about it before. Dark magic required ritual blood. And the most powerful of spells required blood that had never been used in magic before. And after so many escapades with numerous magic users, of course, Merlin’s blood had been used in magic before!

Once more, the sky hissed and darkened and the witch’s voice filled the forest.

“The deal is fulfilled, oh King of Camelot. Thou and thy company may leave this place freely.”

“Holy shit, Gwaine’s a vir–”

But before Elyan could finish his exclamation, the forest fell away and the men found themselves stirring awake by the witch’s camp fire.

Arthur was the first to scramble to his feet and brandish his sword at the woods surrounding them, his knights quick behind.

“Show yourself!” he demanded.

“It's too late,” Merlin said, simply, checking his arm – still wrapped up in Arthur's makeshift cloth bandage. “The witch would be long gone by now. That sort of spell is one you cast to get as far as you can from the people you're trapping. I've read about these spells plenty of times.”

Tired, Arthur resheathed his sword and collapsed onto the floor next to Merlin. The knights also sat themselves down, exhausted.

“Does it hurt?” Arthur whispered quickly.

“Not anymore,” Merlin answered, also in a hurried, hushed tone. “Thanks for the bandage.”

Arthur felt the words claw at his throat. He so desperately wanted to know. Who was it that Merlin had let into his heart to share a bed with? Who had this servant boy met that he did not know about? Merlin told him everything. Or at least, Merlin was such an open book that Arthur knew it all. Or at least he thought he did.

His heart beat heavy in his chest. And the question never made it into the air.

Finally, Leon broke the solemn silence that hung above all their heads.

“Look, Gwaine, you really don't need to lie about being a lady-killer. We'll love you either way.”

The knights burst into a much needed uproarious laughter and even a chuckle escaped from Merlin and Arthur.

“But I've been with loads of women!” Gwaine protested. “The witch was mistaken!”

“Sure, sure,” Percival spoke dismissively. “We definitely believe you and not some super scary witchy curse, Gwaine.”

And with that the knights rose to their feet and continued on with their journey. Arthur’s eyes lingering on Merlin's arm just a fraction of a second too long.

[fangirl-dot-com]

Together or Nothing

Pairing: Vettel-Reader x Carlos Sainz Jr.  Genre: Angst/Comfort Summary: Growing up with Carlos, you knew he’d be a special driver. If he asked you to follow him to the end of the world, you’d do it. But when his life in Formula 1 is in jeopardy, how far are you willing to go? 

uhhhhhhh - I was inspired and I made an imagine after the complete clown show that was last tuesday. This is an apology imagine because this week is stacked and there might not be a TDITD update in the near future. So I'm feeding you all now. Never thought that my first imagine would be fore Carlos but here we are.

You had heard the rumors. But that’s what they were supposed to be. Just rumors. 

Your dad had warned you that something big was going to be announced, but you never thought it would be this. 

Well, some rumors can turn out to be true. Your mind was swirling with thoughts as you looked at your screen. Photoshopped pictures of Lewis in red was all that you saw. Conformations, hot-takes, and edits began to follow. People praised the prancing horse for securing the 7-time world champion. Podcast hosts immediately took to talking about how Lewis would be the best teammate for Charles. Everyone seemed honed in on the two drivers. 

Yet, all you could think about was Carlos.

Carlos who had given his all to the Rosso Corsa team. 

Carlos who was the only non-Red Bull winner in 2023. 

Carlos who bled the Ferrari red, even sometimes more than their Il Predestinato.  

Carlos who was slowly becoming forgotten in a matter of minutes. 

Your heart ached for your friend as you read his short and blunt statement on his Instagram story. You could almost feel the sadness through the minimal words. 

Your fingers flew to your messages as you messaged Charles. The Monegasque had known for a while, but had tried to get the Spaniard another contract. He knew that Carlos was one of the better drivers on the grid and disagreed with Ferrari’s decision. 

You knew that Charles had so much respect for Lewis. Hell, everyone did. You don’t just equal Michael Schumacher’s championships every day. No one has even come close to it. Yes, Max was well on his way, but nothing was ever certain in the world of Formula 1. 

Charles even complained about how he might not be number 2 driver in a team that didn’t believe in “driver priority.” Years of experience and 7 World Champions would definitely give someone the upper hand. 

Swiping out of the messages with Chares, you brought up Carlos’s contact. 

Your finger hovered over the message icon and then switched to call, then back to messages before you swiped out of his contact completely. 

You fingers went to a different contact. You knew it was a hard decision, and it would take a lot of convincing, but you were determined. 

Strict words were flown between you and your father. Having ties with a specific car manufacturer got you places, but this was in the wind. No one had asked for something this big – except you. 

After the begging and borderline crying, you ended the call. Exhaustion was creeping up on you, but you had more things to do. 

Once again, you clicked on Charles’s profile and pressed the call button. 

“Hello y/n,” Charles’s voice echoed through the speaker. 

You sighed. “How is he?” 

Charles mirrored your initial sound. “He won’t pick up. I’ve tried texting, but he’s leaving me on read.” 

You nibbled on your lips. “Have you called Lando?” 

“He’s on his way here. He was in Woking for the suit fitting and debut.” 

You let out a sigh of relief. 

“Can you send me his flight info if you have it? When he gets in, I’ll pick you up, then him. We can all three go see…”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” 

An annoyed sound left your lips as you raised your voice. “Charles, be for real. If we’re honest, he bleeds red more than you do. He needs us. Needs his friends.” 

There was silence for a bit, until Charles spoke up. 

“You’re right. I’m sorry. Sending you the information now.” 

With a couple more thank-you’s and apologies, you hung up. 

Lando was supposed to land later that evening and everything was in place. 

A couple of hours later, Lando was in the back seat of your car with Charles in the passenger. The three of you sat in silence as you drove to Carlos’s place in Monaco. Lando was the first to speak up. 

“So what’s the plan. I know you Y/n and if you haven’t made a call yet somewhere then you’re have no plan and this is just pointless.” 

You rolled your eyes as Charles stared at you, waiting for some good news. 

“I made a call to dad. He says he’ll get the ball rolling. We’ll know by tomorrow if they go ahead with it.” 

Charles leaned in and adjusted himself in the seat. “And who is they?” 

You hushed him. “A girl never spoils her secrets.” 

Not long after, your car finally made it to his place. The lights were on, which was a good sign. 

Carlos was home. 

You swallowed thickly as you made your way up the stairs. Your hand lifted and knocked on the door. Charles and Lando were right behind you. 

It took a couple of minutes for Carlos to open the door, but he eventually did. The sight was almost unbearable. 

His normally kept hair was sticking up in different places. His cheeks were red, along with his nose. 

He had been crying no doubt. 

He looked tired as he slouched at the door, but straightened up when his eyes landed on you. They held a certain softness as he gazed at your face. But the softness hardened at the sight of the other two drivers. He opened his mouth to talk, but you raised a hand. 

“They’re here for you Carlos. Please listen,” you pleaded, hand now resting on his chest. He looked down and then nodded, moving to let them in. 

The three of you followed him in. You were half expecting things to be thrown everywhere and broken. Yet, the house seemed to be in perfect shape. He led you to the living room and sat on a chair. 

You, Lando, and Charles all squeezed onto the couch in front. 

A comment about school children and their principal wanted to leave your lips, but you held it back. 

The Spaniard sat in silence as he waited for someone to talk first. 

Charles inhaled sharply. His voice cracked the first time he tried to say something, but he persisted. 

“I didn’t want it to be like this.”

When Charles finally looked up, Carlos could see the tears in the Monegasque’s eyes.

“I tried,” he swallowed, “I tried to get them to keep you on. Even tried to have them do an open ended contract like mine.” 

Carlos spoke up. “Yet, you have said that you’d want Lewis as a teammate.” 

Charles looked down again, almost ashamed. 

“I half-handedly said that, and you know it. If you were asked you probably wouldn’t have said my name either.”  

Carlos looked down at his hands. Charles was right. 

He got up from the couch and crouched in front of Carlos, so they could be on eye level. Charles put his hand on Carlos’s shoulder. 

“Together or nothing, right?” 

Carlos nodded silently as he brought the brunet into a hug. The two men shed some tears as they hugged. 

You knew how hard it was going to be on the Spaniard. 

He often said that his one downfall was to love and love too quickly. 

Lando was truly his first favorite teammate with Charles coming at a close second. He got too attached in a sport that was famous for their driver swaps. 

Moving from McLaren to Ferrari had almost crushed his and Lando’s friendship. It took them months to be able to hang out without sadness hovering over their heads. 

Now, Carlos was determined to not let that happen to him and Charles. Lando also wouldn’t let it happen, and neither were you. 

The three of you stayed for a little longer, with you being invited to stay the night. Your hand was pushing against Lando’s face as he made kissy noises as he walked out the door. Your keys had been given to Charles with the promise that he’d keep your car safe. 

That night, you held Carlos as he cried and cried. And when you thought he was done, he’d cry some more. You ended up not telling him about your plan, simply because you didn’t want to get his hopes up. 

Yes, in the morning, you were being shaken awake by the Spaniard. His phone was shoved right in your face. 

“Is this real?” he questioned, voice cracking with emotion. 

There on his phone was the official announcement. 

“PORSCHE OUTBIDS AUDI FOR THE 2026 SPOT IN FORMULA 1” 

“EX-DRIVER SEBASTIAN VETTEL TO BE PORSCHE’S TEAM PRINCIPAL IN 2026” 

“Y/N VETTEL TO BE RACE ENGINEER FOR NUMBER ONE DRIVER IN 2026” 

“PORSCHE SECURED NUMBER ONE SEAT AND CONTRACT FOR SAINZ JR 2026” 

The large headlines were giving you a headache, so you simply smiled and closed your eyes. 

“Surprise,” you said, sing-singly and sleepy. 

Carlos just looked at you and you could feel his eyes on your figure. You peaked out at him before sighing, tugging the comforter down as you sat up. 

“If you don’t want it…” 

“I want it.” 

You shivered at the bluntness in his voice. 

He looked from you, down to his phone, then back to you. “You did this?” 

You nodded shyly as you leaned in closer. 

“I know you and Charles have your own ‘together or nothing,’ but I’d follow you to the ends of the earth if it were possible Carlos.” 

You waited for him to say something. Yet, he never did. He did something better though. 

He kissed you. 

“Together or nothing, mi Corazón.” 

carlossainz55 has posted

carlossainz55 to my heart, I cannot thank you enough. you've given me the second chance that I didn't know I had. Together or nothing. Te quiero

liked by charles_leclerc, porschef1, y/n.vettel, and 104,204 others

smooth_operator I'M NOT CRYING YOURE CRYING

vamoscarlos the way I could see y/n convincing her dad to get Porsche to outbid Audi

carlos55 like he could have had a chance with Audi, but y/n wanted to make sure he had an actual seat. can Carlos fight?

charlos4ever I refuse to change my username - did you see them in the joint interview??

charles16 I know right? they looked like the old Carlos and Charles - y/n or seb must have done something carlando betting that they put them both in timeout or the get along shirt

charles_leclerc let's do our very best this season. and always remember that I'll only be a garage down :)

carlossainz55 cabron, did you think that I was leaving leaving?? landonorris he was crying when he called me after you posted y/n.vettel and that was after he called my dad too charles_leclerc IN EVERY UNIVERSE FROM THIS AUTHOR I GET BULLIED FOR CRYING author is it true tho??? charles_leclerc yes.

porschef1 we know it's a season away but we can't wait for for what 2025 brings!

sebastianvettel you better keep my daughter happy or you'll loose a second seat in two seasons

carlossainz55 yes sir

carlos_vettel the way he looks at her in the first picture...when's the wedding??

y/n_sainz all I'm thinking is who is going to take what last name (please hyphenate)

TAG LIST: @fionaschicken @glitterquadricorn @laura-naruto-fan1998 @treehouse-mouse @sam-is-lost @kagatinkita @fangirl125reader @megatrilss1885 @myxticmoon @angsthology @cmleitora @agent-curt-mega @graciewrote @ashy-kit @slutofmultifandom @aexitizen-ln4 @sugarvibez @vellicora @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @cashtons-wife @hoetel-manager @xcharlottemikaelsonx @jayda12 @ilove-tswizzle @justme2042 @itsjustkhaos @nikfigueiredo @stopeatread @cha-hot @sadg3 @iloveyou3000morgan @s4turnsl0ver @alessioayla @torchbearerkyle @leptitlu @awekbachira @shreks-sugar-daddy @v1naco @stan-josie @mellowarcadefun @badassturtle13 @beskardroids @callisposts @poppyalice2001 @juniper-july19 @lizzypiastri

[navybrat817]

What if Bucky doesn't want to go outside on a cold day?

Then he doesn't have to, nonnie.

Shiver

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: Bucky isn't a fan of the cold weather. Not anymore. Word Count: Over 1.1k Warnings: Slight angst, past trauma, comfort, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?). A/N: This just screams Addicted to Love Bucky to me because our reader is so good for him. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky Barnes didn’t like the cold.

It sounded ridiculous when he said it out loud to himself. He ran warmer than most thanks to the serum that will forever course through his veins, so it physically shouldn’t be an issue. The hottest fire still wouldn’t be able to suppress his shiver when he sees the falling snow each winter, too many dark memories flashing through his mind to count.

Winter. Cold. Death.

Fitting how many saw the bitter season as harsh, calm, and silent when he had been the living embodiment of those elements thanks to Hydra. Harsh and calm in his executions, they made him death incarnate by forever silencing his victims. Unlike the beautiful serenity of a new fallen snow, there was no peace when he completed his missions.

They muzzled him to keep him quiet, but it never silenced the voices in his head.

“Bucky?” You asked as you closed the curtain, blocking the snow from his line of sight. You slowly walked over and took a seat beside him on the sofa when he stayed quiet. “Are you okay?”

He hadn’t realized how wide and distant his eyes were until he blinked the thoughts from his mind. He tried to give you an assuring smile as you patiently waited for him to respond, but it was something akin to a grimace. On one hand, he didn’t want to make a fuss out of nothing and possibly worry you. On the other hand, he didn’t want to pretend everything was okay.

“I don’t know,” he whispered truthfully, clenching his vibranium hand.

It didn’t go unnoticed by you. “Do you want to talk about it?”

He swallowed thickly and exhaled when his heart thudded faster. He had nothing to fear. You were there beside him in the loving home you crafted together with care.

It helped his next breath come easier.

“I just saw the snow out there and…” he trailed off, not wanting to say more as he shook his head.

You nodded as if you knew what his answer would be. It was no wonder you closed the curtain when you said minutes before how pretty it looked outside. “Well then, why don’t we stay in today? I don’t see any reason for us to go out there.”

He shook his head after a moment. “But we’re supposed to go sledding later,” he reminded you.

While you sounded excited to try it, he was torn. He feared flying down a hill would remind him of falling. Would he land in a heap when he reached the bottom, paralyzed as someone dragged him away? Would the snow’s beauty be a calming presence or would red splotches bleed into his vision?

In his heart, he knew you would be there beside him with a smile bright enough to light up the darkness and chase those shadows away.

But the voices of the past drowned out the logic of the present.

You gingerly placed a hand on his cheek and gave him a soft smile as he leaned into your touch with a sense of desperation. It was almost warm enough to rid himself of the chill he produced by lingering for too long on memories best left for another time. If he was once the embodiment of death, you were life.

The spring to my winter.

“No, I think we’re supposed to stay inside today and watch movies under a blanket until it’s time to eat,” you corrected him, as if that was the plan all along.

His forehead creased as he searched your face. “You really don’t want to go out today?”

“I really don’t,” you said, simply scooting closer and grabbing a blanket from the back of the couch. You securely wrapped it around him and rubbed his arms with that same soft smile he loved. “Why would I want to go out there when I have everything I need right here?” You added, brushing your fingers through his hair as he sighed.

His eyes burned, but tears didn’t come. You were the type of person to exude compassion without making him feel like a burden. How was it fair to you that you ended up with a partner like him?

“Are you upset?” He asked in a tiny voice as his eyes flickered to yours, only to be met with compassion.

If you wanted to go sledding or do any sort of activity in the snow, he would find a way to reach down inside himself and push the discomfort aside.

Don’t I owe it to you to try?

“Of course not. My only concern is that you’re okay,” you assured him, bringing your hand back to his cheek. Your touch pushed away the demons inside that tried to rip him apart. “And if that means staying inside, so be it.”

He swallowed again, still not used to someone so understanding offering him a kindness. “I just don’t like the cold. Not anymore. I don’t know if I ever will,” he admitted above a whisper, blinking rapidly as your thumb moved in circles along his skin. “But as funny as it sounds, I don’t mind when you’re cold.”

You tilted your head, curiosity filling your gorgeous eyes. “And why is that?”

“Because I get to keep you close and make you warm again,” he answered, bumping his nose against yours. “It makes me feel like I’m doing something right for a change.”

You put so much energy into taking care of him and he did his best to return it full force.

His eyes slipped shut when you pressed a kiss to his forehead, your lips sending a wave of heat through his head. “You’re doing everything right,” you said against his skin.

He chuckled a bit, wishing that was true. “I’m still a work in progress. Still trying,” he said. He was on his way to believing he was doing things right though thanks to you.

“That’s what counts,” you said, tilting his chin so his lips met yours. “You’re a good man, Bucky Barnes.”

“And you’re an angel for putting up with me,” he teased, covering your mouth with his again before you could argue that you weren’t putting up with him.

As Bucky deepened the kiss, he further believed that you were the spring to his winter. His good fortune. His happiness. Hope for a fresh start and an even better future. And while he may never learn to love the cold again, he would try to look on the bright side of his circumstances that brought him to you.

Because how could one love and appreciate the spring if they didn’t endure the winter?

It was that very thought that finally quieted the voices in his mind.

Bucky deserves only good things, okay? Love and thanks for reading. ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[shanastoryteller]

Happy pride! Can you write more of that god!Zagreus fic?

a continuation of 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13

Thanatos guides Megara to the place known as the Prince’s Court, stepping into the throne room to see his dark head and fiery laurels bent over a long table. Clustered around him are those whom he used to rest amongst battling his way through the underworld – not just Sisyphus, but the nymph Eurydice and the warrior Patroclus.

Barely more than acquaintances, really, and yet Zagreus has folded them into his confidence, a confidence extended neither to him nor Megara. Again.

He does not tell them when he intends to escape the underworld nor does he tell them when he cracks it open and burrows into a place of his own making. What did those three do that he hadn’t?

Zagreus looks over, smiles, then sees Meg and frowns. Instead of addressing her, he turns to Patroclus and says, “We might as well just tell Achilles outright at this point. If we’re not quick about it he’ll find out from someone else, which is probably best to be avoided.”

“I think it would serve him right, actually,” Patroclus answers, a small smile curling around the edges of his mouth.

Megara lets out a shriek, angry enough to earn her status as a Fury on that alone, and launches herself at Zagreus whips first.

Everyone else scatters, even Patroclus backing up with his hands raised even though he’s a good enough warrior to at least slow Megara down. Thanatos thinks uncharitable thoughts about loyalty to their god and king even though the truth of it is that they’re smart enough to keep from being dragged into the middle of a lover’s quarrel.

Zagreus lets the whips hit him and yet for once he does not bleed.

No rich mortal blood falls from his skin, instead the whips slamming into him and then sliding off.

“Meg, don’t be mad,” he says soothingly. “I just didn’t want to put you in an awkward position-”

“You’re not bleeding,” she says blankly, her rage banked by confusion.

He glances down on his arms. “Oh, oops. Do you want me to? I can, but also we could talk this out.”

“Or move the battle to somewhere that won’t harm my architecture,” Sisyphus pipes up. Eurydice elbows him, looking horrified, while Patroclus just remains amused.

Zagreus inclines his head in their direction. “Or that.”

“Don’t give me a reason to start with you,” Megara hisses at Sisyphus. “Zagreus, what the fuck is happening? What’s with you?” She storms forward to grab his arm, yanking it around, searching his skin for some break. “You’ve always bled. Even when we were children.”

He softens, offering his wrist to her mouth and her very sharp teeth.

Megara grips it, dragging it forward and biting into him as if he’s the first bite of a feast and she’s starving.

Zagreus winces, but leaves his wrist in her mouth. Thanatos feels warm and uncomfortable all over, something intimate there that he always avoids seeing between them. She releases him and her teeth are red with his blood and blood falls down his arm in rivulets. “I’m still me. I still bleed. I just have a little bit more control over it these days. I’m the god of blood. I’m made to bleed.”

[intothedysphoria]

It was expected that moving in together, there’d be some initial teething problems but Steve hadn’t quite thought that Billy was going to break his bubbe’s antique vase with a yo-yo.

Well, in fairness, Steve had seen Billy do far worse. Drop a baseball bat onto a car windshield from a third floor window, vandalising the mayors office, that one time he threatened to establish a nudist cult. Billy lived to shock people and now that they were in a relationship, Steve appeared to be the prime target.

Fucking hell.

The relationship wasn’t exactly public and the moving in wasn’t exactly official, which may have been causing some of the tension. Neil Hargrove would still rock up every night, screaming every word under the sun at Billy but never stepping a foot over the threshold. Because he was a coward, Billy said. But he was still spooked.

Thus, coming to the point where Billy had smashed his bubbe’s antique vase with a yo-yo. Breathing heavily with shards of pottery imbedded deep into his hand. Then he looked up at Steve, audibly gulped and ran for the bathroom.

It took a while to get Billy out. He’d point blank refuse if he was in one of his bad patches, seeming to prefer to simmer in isolation than to turn to help. But Steve was patient and always wore him down. He just had to sit and wait.

Eventually the bathroom door opened with a quiet flick of the lock. Billy’s face was unusually blank, apart from the red rimmed eyes that clearly denoted that he’d been crying. Steve cautiously tried to go in for a hug only to get a grunted “I’m fucking fine Harrington” and an angry teenager barrelling past him.

Which was not exactly ideal.

Steve cleared up the shattered vase on the floor, silently apologised to all his cousins who were still in Romania and knocked on Billy’s door. The groan of acknowledgment made Steve feel like he was good to come in.

What Billy had managed to do was bleed all over the floor and go through about ten cigarettes if the slowly growing pile on the floor was anything to go by. Steve’s offer to clean up his hands got an eye roll but no obvious resistance so he went ahead.

It wasn’t until Steve had managed to create a rudimentary bandage for Billy’s hands that Billy actually looked at him, now appearing more than slightly sheepish. There was a blush slowly rising over his cheeks that looked so genuinely adorable Steve just wanted to kiss it.

Instead he pulled back and asked “you doing ok Hargrove?”

Billy snapped “why the fuck wouldn’t I be” which didn’t exactly bode well for Steve’s plan to sort the situation out and put it to bed.

“Well you know, you seemed kind of upset earlier so I thought I’d ask” Steve had learned over the months of knowing Billy that it was best to not sound accusatory and instead act like it was no big deal.

Billy stayed silent for a few minutes while Steve just waited for him to be ready to form a response until he blurted out “it just pisses me off so much how he treats us. It’s bullshit!”

Steve didn’t need to ask who the “he” Billy referred to was. Instead he set a hand on Billy’s knee in a way that would hopefully be soothing, not annoying and rubbed small circles on Billy’s leg while he breathed.

“I know” Billy looked up quizzically, clearly wondering where Steve was going with this. “I know it’s bullshit and I wish it were different now but it will be in the future I promise. We’re gonna move you back to Cali, Neil’s sorry ass is gonna stay here and everyone who ever hurt you can get fucked. Ok?”

Billy sniffed loudly before nodding an affirmative, then wrapping Steve into his arms, doing what Steve knew he’d swear later wasn’t crying. He then leaned in to give Steve a surprisingly tender kiss on the lips and smacked his ass. Something Steve probably should have expected.

“Come on, let’s go watch Halloween before Munson holds us hostage because we haven’t watched a John Carpenter yet.”

Things weren’t perfect after that. Neil was still an ever looming presence in their lives, Billy still got pissed off and broke shit, they still fought pretty much weekly at least and Steve had expected that. It was what he’d signed up for in dating Billy. But Billy was still out to shock people.

Leaning across Billy’s chest, not dealing with a horror film nearly as well as Billy was but still having a hand gently squeezing his shoulder to make sure he was ok was the best shock Steve had ever been given.

[teecupangel]

Hey, what you think about Desmond in Teenwolf universe? Like him working there in bar and eventually help gang with supernatural problems(because well he can fight and doesn't want these teenagers die?)

Oh, man. I was into Teen Wolf years ago so let’s see what we can do with this one.

First of all, we’ll put Desmond in the gap between Season 1 and 2. Why?

Because he’s there to investigate the killings of Season 1. It’s a personal thing.

Well…

It’s connected to Ratonhnhaké:ton because his Bleed of Ratonhnhaké:ton makes him believe that there is something familiar with the way those people were killed by a ‘wild animal’.

He’s not sure if it’s related to a POE though but it’s worth investigating (we will also be moving the timeline of Teen Wolf so S1 happened in 2013 instead of 2011 and this is after Desmond saves the world from the Solar Flare)

The real reason why he’s there though is because he’s supposed to be hiding. After his attack on Abstergo’s Rome facility, Interpol has been on his tail so he needs to lay low for a bit.

We’re also placing him between S1 and S2 so there’s some time for him to integrate himself to the plot. Specifically, he’s working in the Jungle where the problematic teenagers would get themselves in trouble later when the hunt of the Kanima starts.

That’s also when he becomes entangled with the plot because he’s been researching about the ‘new’ killings happening all around Beacon Hills and, Jesus Christ on a pogo stick, there were a lot of reds calling themselves ‘hunters’.

Desmond has a feeling that something more was going on.

In this one, Desmond actually spots the teenagers as they enter Jungle because he’s been a bartender long enough to spot problems (and Jungle doesn’t want problem, especially since being a gay club means they’re not unused to some… annoying flies) so he pats the other person working the bar with him, which is a silent signal that he was going to switch to being the teenage bouncer and give their actual bouncer another scolding (seriously, he doesn’t care if sweet boy Danny is planning to graduate early or whatever, he’s still in highschool)

Then he feels it.

Something about these teenagers that alerts him. A ghost of a Bleed from Ratonhnhaké:ton…

And then the Kamina attacks and all hell breaks loose.

Unorganized Notes:

Would absolutely push himself into Derek’s little pack because he sees the cool front that Derek is showing and calls bullshit on it. He doesn’t know they’re werewolves yet but he knows something is up and Derek’s pack has information. Caring for the pack later on was not the plan.

He sees Erica, Boyd and Isaac as recruits in need of care. Derek is annoyed with him though because he keeps butting in to tell him to be nicer or to explain it more and- Desmond has no idea what a Stiles is but he’s probably being insulted, the asshole.

He does learn what a Stiles is because Stiles annoyed him by visiting the club repeatedly. The Drag Queens love him and has adopted him and has band together to stop Desmond from throwing his underage ass out.

Stiles is the one who spills the whole werewolf hunter thing because he thought Desmond’s strange mannerism (“It reminds me of my dad but like… more spec ops?” “You play too many video games, squirt.”) might mean he’s a hunter.

Oh and Stiles being in the club a lot? Yeah. Sheriff Stilinski gets into this whole mess because he’s sus of Desmond. It doesn’t help that Desmond has been teaching Stiles a few tips of how to fight (“Why… why do you know that you should kick off the tail lights of a car if you’re inside the trunk?” “My dad’s a cop, dude. I know how to shoot too. Wanna see?” “With your flailing limbs? Nah, I’m good”)

Desmond is an annoying older brother to both Derek and Stiles. The pack loves him for it.

Scott thinks he’s cool too but he’s a bit wary of him since he’s close to Derek. He’s also worried that he’s being used to pull Stiles to Derek’s pack.

But that’s not really Desmond’s problem at the moment because the Bleed of Ratonhnhaké:ton he’s been ��feeling’?

That’s because Ratonhnhaké:ton has confronted werewolf hunters before. To be more exact, the Argents during his time in France. Arno Dorian is actually the one who got the wrath of the Argents but that extends to the Brotherhood in general.

The Argents are not Templars but they definitely don’t like the Brotherhood. And Gerard Argent? He has a feeling an Assassin is snooping around their hunting ground. It’s only a matter of time before he finds the rat.

[kudossi]

hear the crack of lightning (where your heart will break)

“Don’t you understand?” Hawkfrost hisses, spits like it’s deathberries, like poison curling his tongue and blackening his gums. “We’re the same, you and I!”

Hollyleaf stares at him, still as the grave.

“Hollyleaf, no!” Dovewing shouts out. Thunder rips across the sky, breaking and rending and tearing apart. Lightning flashes, hot and acerbic, the taste of ozone and the dizzying light of uncountable seasons of greenleaf suns.

Hollyleaf doesn’t move. She’s a dark outline in the aftereffects of lightning, against smoke sputtering toward the sky. “You’re wrong,” she says, quiet, and Dovewing pictures rolling hills covered in prairie grass, whistling softly, something beautiful and magnificent and simple all the same, her teacher and her friend and her family, all wrapped up in one cat. “End this, Hawkfrost. You don’t have to do this.”

Hawkfrost snarls. “I think you’ll find that I do,” he says, anger and fathomless, incomprehensible emptiness.

The sky opens. Rain pours down around them, obscuring Dovewing’s vision. Maybe that’s why she isn’t quick enough. Maybe that’s why she doesn’t see the blow levied for her until Hollyleaf intercepts it, bowling Breezepelt over in the span of a blink. Maybe that’s why she doesn’t comprehend Hawkfrost’s movement, the way he digs his teeth into Hollyleaf’s scruff and his claws into her throat.

Hollyleaf gasps.

Dovewing had always wondered what would happen when the prophecy came to bear. She had pondered over it on sleepless nights, during early patrols, when she guarded the camp while the Clan slept around her. The night before hadn’t been any different — she had tucked herself underneath Hollyleaf’s chin, leeching comfort from her pelt, and the thought had come — what would she do if something happened to her?

She’d thought she would rage, would scream to the sky, would take her revenge with tooth and claw. But instead she stands stock-still as Hollyleaf struggles to stand, as Hawkfrost’s bloody mouth turns to her, as Breezepelt grins, crooked and eager.

Hollyleaf laughs. It’s choked with her own blood. “You’ll have to get through me first,” she says, this self-exiled loner, this fully-trained warrior, a cat who had watched her grow up and had realized what she held that Hollyleaf herself had not; a cat who had come looking anyway, who had come to rescue her when everything else had gone hopeless and fuzzy at the edges.

“No,” she breathes, and Hawkfrost leaps, but Hollyleaf is ready, and her fangs sink deep into his throat. Black blood spurts from any gap her mouth creates, stinking and shiny like the puddles they sometimes found on Thunderpaths. It’s muck and mire, not clean blood, and yet—and yet—

Lionblaze and Icecloud interrupt her panicked musings, fighting back-to-back as they take on Breezepelt, as Hawkfrost’s body deflates like waterlogged moss, as Hollyleaf slumps back, stunned, her face and neck dripping.

Dovewing knows what to do. She knows what to do — what Hollyleaf taught her to do between battle practice and hunting, in the mornings and the evenings where being prophesied might as well have been a death sentence, where even Hollyleaf’s simple knowledge of herbs might give at least a slim, wild chance —  but as she rolls Hollyleaf on her side, she knows that anything she does will only prolong the end.

She does it anyway.

The herbs don’t matter anymore — nothing matters anymore. Breezepelt and the monsters behind him could kill them all where they stood and it would make more sense than this, than Hollyleaf bleeding out at her paws, than the way the cobwebs run red with blood, than the way the herbs she presses in don’t help the clotting.

She can’t think. It’s only instinct. No, no, her heart beats. No, no, not her, not her, anyone but her.

Dovewing presses more and more cobwebs to the wound.

A voice echoes from somewhere, and it takes Dovewing a moment to realize that it’s from Hollyleaf. “I knew you’d make a good medic,” Hollyleaf manages. She reaches out a paw to tap one of Dovewing’s, a purr in her throat. “You’ve made me proud. So, so proud.”

No. Dovewing snatches the paw back as if Hollyleaf had touched it with fire, and she busies herself again — herbs, herbs, what to stop the blood, what would stop the blood?

“It’s okay,” Hollyleaf says. “I always knew, Dovewing. I always knew this would be my fate.”

“It’s not okay!” Dovewing snaps. “You have your whole life to live, and, and—I’m going to stop the bleeding, and we’re going to go home, all of us, and you can be deputy one day, and then leader, Hollyleaf, you deserve it, and maybe I can train as a medic — really train — and Ivypool can be your deputy, and nothing will hurt — nothing will hurt ever again, Hollyleaf, wouldn’t that be nice?”

Hollyleaf says nothing. There’s a gentle smile on her face, something knowing.

“Why isn’t—why isn’t it stopping?” she asks. “I’m doing everything you taught me, everything, Hollyleaf, please—”

“Sometimes… it’s not enough,” Hollyleaf whispers. Dovewing flinches away, reaching blindly for more, and Hollyleaf’s paw touches her again. “Hey. Hey, Dovewing. It’s—it’s no use. You have to save those, okay? You can’t go using them all on me.”

“I’ll get more, okay? I will!”

“Dovewing.”

“I’ll—I’ll use more moss, and they’ll take patrols past the borders—”

“Dovewing.”

“—and it’ll all be okay, Hollyleaf, you’ll see—”

“Dove!”

Dovewing reels back, slipping in Hollyleaf’s blood. For the first time since she’d started packing herbs into the wounds, Dovewing looks Hollyleaf in the eye. They’re green, of course — a shade so similar to her own that it was as if they’d been born to be two halves of a whole.

The light in them is dim, the life slipping steadily away. But she sees affection there, sees pride, sees love.

Gently, Hollyleaf offers Dovewing her white paw.

Trembling, Dovewing puts her own white paw atop it. She’s warm, so warm, like life and sunlight and those stolen training days, where nothing mattered but the next herb, the next piece of knowledge to slot into her mind so easily, so perfectly that she’d known it had always meant to be there.

“You’ll find another cat to teach, won’t you?” Hollyleaf asks, a weak smile on her face. “Illicitly, of course?”

Something bubbles in Dovewing’s chest. She thinks it would have been a laugh, any other time. “This isn’t funny.”

“No,” Hollyleaf says quietly, “but I wish you wouldn’t cry for me.”

Dovewing snorts, the sound watery. “A little too late for that.”

Hollyleaf purrs, exasperated and fond. “Look at you, Dove. You’re—you’re fully trained, in every way you could be. Let Jayfeather tell you how proud he is in my stead, won’t you? When you don’t have to be a warrior anymore? I—I had wanted to be the one to tell you, after this all was over. After you didn’t need to fight anymore… when you could rest.”

“Then why won’t you let me save you?” Dovewing demands. “You could—you have a future, Hollyleaf. Don’t you want to seize it? To take it for yourself, to live it?”

“My future has always led me here.” Hollyleaf coughs. Blood splatters on the ground before her, bright for only moments before the rain whisks it away. “But I would have liked to.”

Dovewing looks down at her wound, at the bloodied herbs scattered at her paws, at the empty forest where Lionblaze and Icecloud and Breezepelt and faded Dark Forest cats had once stood. “Kestrelflight!” she realizes. “I can get Kestrelflight!”

“You know you can’t get Kestrelflight,” Hollyleaf says kindly. “He wouldn’t make it here in time. I know you know that.”

“No—you—please—what am I supposed to do without you? There was so much left for you to teach me. You can’t go, please, Hollyleaf—”

“It’s okay, Dovewing. Dovewing, look at me.”

Dovewing looks studiously at the wound, as if a solution is going to drop into her paws like the prophecy she’d never asked for. 

“Shh. Look at me, Dove. It’s okay.”

Her peaceful expression made her look impossibly young, impossibly happy. Dovewing releases a hiccupping sob, trying to memorize each individual whisker. If—if she looked hard enough now, maybe—maybe she could remember.

“I’ll be with you, I promise.”

“How can you promise that?”

“Because I know. I know, okay? I’ll be beside you with every patient, every time you look for herbs, every time you lie in the sun. I’ll be in every blade of grass and every leaf on every tree. I’ll never leave you. I won’t.”

Dovewing held back a sob. “Please.”

“I wish I could give you what you want,” Hollyleaf murmurs, “but this’ll have to do. I’ll watch over you, wherever I go, as much as I can. I want you to—to live, and love, and do everything you’ve ever wanted, and I don’t want you to let anyone stop you.”

“I can’t go on without you,” Dovewing pleads. “I can’t.”

“You have to,” Hollyleaf wheezes, her breath coming shorter. “There are other cats to treat, other cats who need you. And it doesn’t hurt, Dove, not anymore.”

It hurts for me, Dovewing doesn’t say.

“I can hear—you never met her, but—my birth mother’s name was Leafpool,” Hollyleaf murmurs. Her sides rattle as she takes a breath. “I can—she chose me, once. I betrayed her, and—and she’d suffered enough, but StarClan doesn’t forgive even the cats they ask to do impossible things.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Hollyleaf says softly. “I can hear her. It’s been… it’s been so long. She’s—she’s telling me about marigold. Marigold! As if—as if I were six moons old again… I thought… I miss her.”

“I’ll remember her for you,” Dovewing says softly. “I’ll teach the kits when I’m old and gray. I’ll threaten them into telling their kits, too.”

Hollyleaf laughs. It’s a horrible, wheezing thing. “She’d like that,” she murmurs. Her eyes are glazing over. She’s looking—she’s looking so far away, as if she can see something seasons and seasons past.

Dovewing hopes she can.

Hollyleaf doesn’t speak for a moment, the only signs of her life the continued rise and fall of her flank.

“I’m sorry,” Dovewing says, low enough to where she knows Hollyleaf won’t be able to hear. “I’m so sorry.”

Hollyleaf’s breaths hitch for a moment, then resume. Her eyes slide closed and then open again.

“Can you still hear her?”

“I can see her,” Hollyleaf says deliriously. “We’re—having my favorite prey. She’s going to—she’s going to teach me everything she ever wanted to.”

Dovewing rests her head on Hollyleaf’s shoulder. “It sounds beautiful,” she murmurs.

“It is,” Hollyleaf mumbles. “It’s—forgiveness, Dove. I forgive her. I forgive them all.”

Her breath rattles in her throat. The rain beats on the leaves above, unheeding.

Hollyleaf stills, and Dovewing does too, as if every part of her needed to match Hollyleaf’s. As if syncing their bodies will give her enough of Dovewing to come back.

She doesn’t, of course.

Dovewing weeps.

[phoenix--flying]

pjo characters as things my friend group has said

Hazel: I just kinda radiate towards caves

Nico: Breathing has been taken out of Nicos software

Connor: I can speedrun to your house when you're home alone

Cecil: raisins are dehydrated rats

Percy: It's a roller coaster where the only option is to die

Will: I just goooot- my jugular sliced open by a cat

Nico: We're going out tonight and killing all the homophobes. Call it a date

Will: Why am I so much taller then- Oh its cause im standing on a dead body

Connor: You're sooo welcome. I literally did nothing

Hazel: Just because your trash doesn't mean you can't do great things. It's called a trash can not a trash cannot

Piper: Cut my hair, I'll cut your throat

Thalia: Sometimes I do slap kids

Travis: When I grow up I'm gonna be a legal drug dealer

Beckendorf: I’m going to drop kick myself into space

Malcom: Briefly describe three applications that make use of the total eternal reflection of light Connor: The colour seven

Grover: Percys reaching old age, we should put him in a retirement home

Piper: Leo what did you do Leo: I may have burned down an orphanage and it may have spread to this site.

Lou Ellen: Travelling, usually done on the ceiling

Will: Imagine sitting on your couch watching TV and your phone buzzes. Reminder: Breathe

Austin: i just broke an acorn.. panic whY IS THERE AN ACORN IN MY ROOM

Nico: i feel like today happened yesterday and i just slept for all of tomorrow and woke up in the evening

Malcom: yeah i fell down the stairs and broke my spine in 3 places Connor: that's hot

Jason: Nitroglycerin. The forbidden smoothie

Will: I always look like trash. Annabeth: I know that's why I hate looking like trash

Travis: well we only have a few minutes left of class.. y'all wanna watch something explode

Piper: It sounded like you smoked 10 packs of cigarettes and then hit puberty

Jason: Imagine you get fired the day after you die

Nico: My stomach just like...started learning German

Nyssa: Leo if you don't leave, i'm shoving this desk fan up your ass

Jason: I slammed my foot on the accelerator, running multiple red lights at 220km/h, because I wanted to drive safe

Nyssa: When you go through the car wash but you forget the car

Drew: *points at trashcan* That looks like you

Nico: I only want chemistry between me and a coffin

Jake: Gotta put your wheelchair in 4Wheeldrive. Outdoor mode. Off-road mode

Leo: Murder is ok as long as its fine

Percy: Maybe if I fall asleep on my textbook I'll wake up with all the knowledge

Connor: Let's play spin the bottle but it's only you and me

Leo: Now how do we calculate the density if swiss cheese

Clarisse: I have to ask one of the experts Chris: Who are the experts? Clarisse: I don't know

Piper: Your mom is on vacation Leo: well- she's on a permanent vacation

Michael: AYO BITCH YOUR FOODS FLAMIN THE FUCK

Silena: If you're slow I'm a fucking snail

Jason: We need to hold a funeral! Percy: Here comes the bride

Beckendorf: Have you ever died? No??? Well here you go!!! Death simulator. It’s permanent!

*Annabeth and Percy sitting on a bench with drinks and a cop drives by* Percy: What if they thought we were drinking and driving Annabeth: We're not in a car

Will: I'm so smart Nico: Oh my god since when

Piper: *gives Leo a singular goldfish* Piper: Feeding the poor

Lou Ellen: Bless your soul Nico: What soul? Lou Ellen: ...good answer

Sherman: an apple a day keeps the doctor away, and anybody else if you throw it hard enough

Connor: I can see the veins in my eyes

Ellis: Whatever sinks your boat!

Cecil: You can't kill the gays if the gays kill you first

Will: dude sorry there's a knife in your grandma's face it grew wings and flew there :( Cecil: I’m sorry my knife flew out of my hand and slit that guys throat then burned it so he wouldn’t bleed

Silena: *playing Minecraft* I walked into your house and your birds started aggressively dancing at me

Lee: That's just so unfortunate for me. That is just so- oh I died

Percy: Wanna go to Toronto? Why drive just take the Earth Quake on natural disaster

Travis: The roof is just caving in on us it's fine

Michael: My arms are broken, my legs are broken, my lungs are broken, my knees are broken, I got decapitated when I was five

Connor: We're gonna die? No we're gonna beat the speedrun world record

Cecil: Hell to go down I there

Will: Mask to mask resuscitation

Travis: I may or may not have accidentally dropped a match in the building on purpose

Nico: Minecraft but I accidentally sets a school on fire

Percy: Minecraft but I die of hypothermia

Piper: Minecraft but I left my eyes at home

Jake: Minecraft but my legs are broken

Jason: Minecraft but I died

Lou Ellen: Minecraft but we're all gay

Will: If I die the game is homophobic

Cecil: Minecraft but I run my best friend over

Nico: I wanna hit a citizen with a baseball bat

Michael: Hey sir, you have Alzheimer’s. Would you like a side of bronchitis?

Silena: Why can't this be straight? Lee: Because you're not

Lou Ellen: mmmm i love my jesus fish Cecil: bro jesus fish Lou Ellen: ikr, jesus moment

[sixhours]

One Day at a Time - Chapter 3 - Embryo

Series Chapter Index | Read on AO3 | Complete

Rating: Explicit, 18+, here be smut Series tags: The Last of Us, The Last of Us (HBO), Joel Miller x f!OFC, Joel & Ellie, mostly follows canon, SMUT, gratuitous smut, dubious consent (drunk sex), unplanned pregnancy, fluff, references to past miscarriages, angst, hurt/comfort, romance, age gap (~21 years), childbirth, fluffy baby stuff, I've probably forgotten some so please let me know <3

Days become weeks without word from Charlie. Every time he sees her, she gives him a little nod. Nothing overt, just enough to send a message.

We’re still here.

After two weeks, he’d found an old pocket calendar from 2001 and put it by his bed, and he marks off each day that passes with a big X. He’s done the math, and there’s a date in mid-December circled in red pen.

He can’t sleep for shit under the best of circumstances, but lately it’s impossible. He’s given up trying, choosing instead to crash on the couch with a movie playing on a loop in the background until a fitful sleep takes him.

He’s parked like this on the couch one night when the knock surprises him out of a half-doze. He fumbles for the remote and pauses the movie before answering the door.

It’s Charlie.

“I’m bleeding,” she says in lieu of a greeting.

His stomach sinks.

He reaches out without thinking, hands on her shoulders; she’s shivering. He pulls her forward into the warmth of the little house, closing the door behind her.

“Midwife says it could be normal or it could be a miscarriage,” she says flatly. “No way to tell yet.”

He seethes. He remembers Maria and Tommy telling him about the Jackson midwife; she was competent, but her bedside manner was shit.

“Does it…feel like…” He doesn’t know how to finish the sentence.

“I don’t know, I’ve never made it this far. I’m not cramping. It’s not a lot of blood. I just…you wanted me to tell you, so I’m telling you.”

He nods, feeling stupid and helpless and hating it.

“Uh…sit,” he says, gesturing to the couch. “Want tea? It’s herbal. No caffeine.”

She nods warily. “Sure…I guess.”

He sets the water to boil, gets out two mugs, pulls the little canister of tea from the shelf, and fills the infuser with dried peppermint leaves. He can’t stand the stuff, but Ellie won’t drink coffee like a normal person, so they always have some in the house.

He glances at Charlie from over his shoulder as he waits for the water to boil. She’s on the couch, arms wrapped around herself as if she could hold back the thing she fears by force of will.

“You take milk or anythin’?”

“Just sugar, if you have it.”

He does. The kettle whistles and he pours the steaming water over the leaves.

She takes the tea with a small, hollow smile and sips at it. He takes a seat in the armchair next to her.

“Is there anything we can do?”

She shakes her head. “Midwife said to check in tomorrow morning. If it gets worse before then, I’ll go to the clinic.”

“Okay,” he says. “I can…wait with you.”

She nods, takes another sip, and sinks back into the couch. Waiting.

The silence presses in around them. It’s like torture, and Joel wracks his tired brain for something, anything to say. She saves him the trouble, blinking with interest at the television screen.

“Is this Gunz Blazin’ 2 ?”

“Uh…yeah…”

“I haven’t seen it since I was a kid,” she says, smiling a little. “My dad and I used to watch these movies all the time. They’re awful.”

He swallows hard, thinking of Sarah.

She looks at him and picks up the remote. “Mind if I…?”

“Yeah, yeah…sure.”

She hits Play and sits back, curling her legs under her and clutching the tea in her hands.

The credits roll a couple of hours later. Charlie has nestled into the couch with a blanket over her lap, empty mug resting on the coffee table.

“S’it as bad as you remember?” Joel rasps.

“Yes. Maybe worse. But in a good way,” she smiles a little. “Nostalgic, I guess.”

He nods. “How’re you, uh, feelin’?”

“Fine,” she says automatically, then laughs. “Not fine, actually. I’m exhausted and I’m sick all the time and my boobs are so fucking sore I could—“

She stops. “Shit, I’m sorry. That’s more than you needed to know. My husband used to say I was born without a filter.”

“S’alright,” he murmurs, his face burning. “You’re, uh, married?”

“Was…or what passed for marriage in the QZ, I guess. We were cordyceps orphans…grew up together after the outbreak, protected each other…kept each other out of trouble. We had 17 years together before…before our luck ran out.”

“So he, uh…you and he…wanted kids?”

“Yeah,” she snorts. “Sounds pretty stupid, right? Bringing a baby into a quarantine zone?”

He bites his lip and doesn’t say anything. He knew people still brought children into this broken world, but he’d never considered it. His interest in that life had stopped when Sarah’s heart stopped beating.

“I miscarried three times,” she murmurs. “We might have kept trying if we’d made it to Jackson together…I don’t know.”

“What happened to him?”

She shrugs. “We ran into trouble on the way here. He was bit. I…took care of it. We always said that was the deal, that we wouldn’t let each other turn. He…he didn’t even flinch when I pulled the trigger.”

She’s looking down at her stomach now, tracing her fingers over the ridges in her shirt, lost in thought.

“I wasn’t looking for this any more than you were,” she says softly. “But I want it anyway…I–I can’t help it. Is that foolish?”

Her eyes bore into his then, not sad now, almost…angry. Challenging him to deny her this.

Joel doesn’t know how to answer, but he huffs a soft, “No.”

She rubs her palm slowly across her lower belly. “This is the longest I’ve ever made it. I didn’t have morning sickness or the…other symptoms before, so I thought…maybe…maybe this time…”

“It’s not over ‘til it’s over,” he says softly.

He wants to take her hand. Instead, he gathers their mugs and takes them to the sink.

“Oh…it’s late,” she says faintly. “I should go.”

He frowns. “You shouldn’t be alone. You can stay here tonight.”

“Oh, no—”

He shakes his head, cutting off her protest. “If somethin’ goes wrong or if you get…sick…someone should be with you. I could come to your place if that’s–or call a friend if you don’t want, uh, me–”

“It’s not that, Joel, but I’ve been through this before–”

“By yourself?”

She swallows hard and ducks her head. “No.”

“Then stay,” he says. “Just for the night. I can put you up in–”

He falters, thinking of Ellie’s old room, still decorated in ugly pink stripes. Meant for a teenager but too close to a nursery.

“You can stay in my room,” he says quickly. “I’ll take the couch. Usually end up down here anyway.”

“I couldn’t–”

“It’s fine,” he waves her off. “Can’t sleep for shit no matter where I land. C’mon.”

He makes for the stairs before she can argue, and breathes a sigh of relief when she follows. He pauses outside the door to his bedroom.

“Just, uh…wait here. Gimme a minute.”

He ducks into the room, picking up clothes and tossing them into the hamper. He strips the bed and digs wrinkled but clean sheets out of the linen closet. After a pause, he picks up the calendar and the red pen from the nightstand and stuffs them into his pocket.

“Should be all good. The bathroom’s, uh, right through there,” he gestures. “All yours. There’s, uh, pain medicine if you need it.”

“Thanks…”

“I’ll be downstairs,” he says. “If you need anything, if anything, uh, happens…just come get me. Or yell.”

“Sure.”

“I mean it,” he says.

“I will, Joel,” she murmurs. “Thanks.”

“G’night then.”

He goes back to his usual spot on the couch and lies down, staring at the little cracks in the living room ceiling. He won’t be able to sleep now. He thinks about the raw need in her voice as her fingers traced her stomach, the hitch in her breath, maybe this time …

He throws an arm across his eyes, trying to block out the thoughts. A small, grief-blackened part of him hates that he cares. Before Ellie, he could numb the pain with booze and pills and a lucrative career in smuggling. But he’s not that man anymore. It would be so much easier if he were, if he couldn’t feel the little flicker of hope in his chest.

The calendar and pen dig into his hip, and he pulls them out of his pocket. It’s well after midnight, so without thinking, he uncaps the pen and crosses off another day.

He must have fallen asleep. When he opens his eyes, the room is lighter, and Charlie is nudging his shoulder.

He’s upright before he’s fully awake. “What is it? Y’okay?”

“I’m fine,” she says quietly. “I’m going to go. The midwife said she’d see me at 7:00. I need to go home and change.”

“Right, okay. Do you, uh…do you want me to come with–”

“No,” she says quickly. “I haven’t told her…or anyone…about you.”

“Right,” he blinks. “Um. Let me know…okay?”

She nods, holding her arms around her middle like she could protect herself from the worst. Without thinking, he reaches out and touches the back of her hand. She doesn’t pull away.

“Sorry,” he mutters, withdrawing. “I…I hope it works out,” he says lamely.

“Do you?” she asks, with an edge of bitterness in her voice. She’s immediately contrite. “I’m sorry. You’ve been kind, and that was…cruel. Missing my filter again.”

“It’s…fine.”

He wants to tell her he does have hope, despite himself, but she’s already out the door.

Charlie hasn’t been gone for five minutes when there’s a knock.

Shit.

He’s on the schedule for a construction job and he’d promised to meet Tommy early. Now he’s late.

“I’m comin’,” he mutters, wincing at the stiffness in his back. “Hold your goddamned horses.”

“Long night?” Tommy smirks on the other side of the door. “Thought I saw Charlie doin’ the walk of shame–”

“Shut it,” Joel growls, surprising himself at the bite in his voice. “Don’t say another fuckin’ word.”

Tommy’s hands coming up in mock defense. “Whoa, easy. Didn’t know it was like that.”

“It’s not,” Joel snaps.

“Alright,” he says, peering at his older brother curiously. “So…you ready to go?”

“Yeah. Lemme get my stuff.”

He’s distracted all day. The work is simple enough–framing a new barn for the sheep, to replace one that’s been infested by termites beyond repair. It should be easy, but he’s overtired and he can’t seem to make his hands behave. Tommy keeps having to repeat himself, giving Joel curious looks. 

“You’re losin’ it, big brother,” he says amiably when Joel brings him a jar of the wrong-size screws for the second time in a row.

It’s mid-afternoon when he brings the hammer down on his middle finger. He watches the whole thing as though in slow motion, knowing exactly what’s going to happen well before he feels the pain, but he’s powerless to stop it.

“Fuuuuuuuck,” he hisses, shaking out his injured hand. Purplish red blood is already blooming under the wide, flat nail. He resists the urge to stick the finger in his mouth to soothe the throbbing ache like a child.

“You break it?” Tommy’s looking over his shoulder.

“No,” he growls. “Just a bruise.”

“Yeah, right. Well, you’re done for today,” Tommy says. “Go home. Made good progress, anyway, we’re almost done.”

Joel shoots him a look, but it doesn’t affect his younger brother in the slightest. It never does. So he relents, packing his tools and trudging away, finger throbbing.

He sees her on the walk home.

Charlie is standing with someone just outside the caf. She looks about as tired as he feels, but then she sees him and brightens, the subtlest glimmer as she catches his eye. The look stops him in mid-stride, frozen in the middle of the street.

She gives him a little nod.

Warmth spreads through his chest, a flood of relief, and that blasted hope again.

We’re still here.

[drgngutz]

10 - Coast - Luffy x f!soulmate!reader

Chapter 10

Taglist: @mystic60 , @louisechec , @pinksh1t , @violetmatcha , @urbisexualfriend

Masterlist!

Sorry in advance... This part is like a whole book lol. After this chapter the rest get a lot shorter, it took FOREVER to write this one.

Enjoy <3

It's past nightfall, and the crew and I have made ourselves at home in the half-house of Mont Blanc Cricket. He had initially attacked us, thinking we were thieves coming to steal his golden treasures, before fainting suddenly from a diving disease. When he came to, after Dr. Chopper's treatment, he was entirely apologetic. 

Words and motivations are exchanged, apologies are shared, and he comes to the decision that he would help us make it to sky island on something called the knock-up stream; a dangerous way of traveling to be sure, and I wasn't exactly thrilled about the idea of being thrust into the sky, just to possibly fall back down and become fish food. 

I had been subtly keeping an eye on Luffy throughout the ordeal, on edge after he came back from Mocktown where he, Nami and Zoro went out for information...

A dull pain spreads across my skin; spots on my face, arms and torso seem to burn without a source. It was weird, looking down at the untouched surface, but feeling like I was covered in cuts and bruises all the same. 

"Luffy, Zoro!" Usopp calls, sounding extremely concerned. I look up from where we’re working on the ship; My brows furrow at the blood staining their clothes. 

"W-What happened? Why are you bleeding?" Usopp prods further. They don’t give him an answer. 

I scan Luffy head to toe, noting the marred skin on all the same spots where I could feel the pain resonating; that answered the question, another factor of the soulmate link I suppose, but it didn't make me any less worried. They had gone into town to find some answers about sky island, not to get into fights and cause trouble. 

"Luffy, what-- Are you okay?" I met him halfway as they made their way back to the boat. My hands are itching to reach out and brush the blood from his face as we stand in front of each other, but I hold back the feeling, holding them at my sides hesitantly. 

"What are you so worried about?" He laughs, and my shoulders slouch. 

"I'm fine. Let's go." And he walks past without another word. At the moment, it feels like he's brushed me off. Maybe he didn't like me fretting over him? 

Nami is quick to unknowingly distract me as I walk up to her and ask if she's okay; delving straight into a rant about how the two men were being 'idiotic' and how she was publicly humiliated for asking about sky island. 

“They all laughed at me! And those two morons just stood there and did nothing–” 

At the time, I'm too busy appeasing Nami and letting her vent her sorrows, I don’t notice the eyes zeroing in on the back of my head as he grins. 

Now he was fine, of course. He never was phased by many of his wounds, from what I could tell. In fact, he was parading around with the monkey brothers, rough housing, dancing, shouting, eating-- You get the picture.

To be honest, it seemed like the events from earlier today seemed totally forgotten in general. Everyone was partying now, munching on Sanji's snacks and drinking to their hearts delight. Music plays softly in the background. I try my best to ease into the atmosphere and forget about before, too. 

"Here, have some!" Nami holds the wooden tankard toward me, offering me the sickly-sweet smelling drink. Her cheeks are flushed. 

"I'm good, thanks though." I smile, lifting my own cup of juice to show I already had a drink. I wasn't interested in alcohol, anyways. 

"Hey, why don't you girls come sit next to me, huh?" Cricket's face is an even darker shade of red, covering his cheeks, nose, forehead, and ears as the bottle of wine sloshes in his hand. I smile at him bashfully, and lean into Nami, who giggles and leans back. Sanji is quick to cover for us, though I knew the older man didn’t mean much harm. 

"Woah-- You're about a hundred years too old to be hitting on Nami; and (Y/n)'s taken, anyway." His foot is planted on the older man's face, holding him back from leaning too close to us. I'm amazed that he's able to keep holding the plates of food as he does this, expertly laying some down in front of us. 

I take a bite of some sort of fish sashimi, and my spirits lift at the flavor. 

"This is amazing, Sanji!" I compliment him, going for another piece. 

"Oh, (Y/n)! I feel I may go to heaven when an angel like you speaks to me like that!" He spins, hearts in his eyes as he nearly whacks Luffy in the face with his foot. It looks like he's completely forgotten his own words from earlier, when emphasizing that I was taken.

"I always compliment your cooking..." I trail off with a little giggle, finally feeling the effects of the good mood begin to rub off on me. 

"'The skulls right eye!'" 

Cricket says in a haunting tone from across the room. How did he get there so quickly, you ask? I have no idea. 

"'That's where I saw the gold.'" He quotes from 'Noland the Liars' log book, which lies in Robin's hands. Noland was Cricket's ancestor, so I wasn't surprised if he might've memorized the documents; despite his insistence on hating his predecessor. 

"Those words, smeared with tears, were the last ones Noland wrote in his logbook. 'The skulls right eye, that's where I saw the gold.'" Everyone in the room stops, enraptured in the exhilaration of his words. And, frankly, so am I. To imagine the possibility of an entire city of gold, of an island in the sky; that was stuff that people could only dream of in the modern world. It was enough to make something as amazing as Time’s Square look bland.

"Noland was executed the same day." There's a heavy silence as nobody speaks, on the edge of their seat, waiting for him to continue. 

"Even after coming to Jaya, I still don't know what he meant by that. Is it referring to the name of a city, or an old landmark that used to reside on the island? Was it just a poetic allusion to his own impending death? The blank pages that follow give us no clue..." Luffy has begun eating again at this point, moaning happily at the taste of the food through Cricket's storytelling. 

"That's why we keep diving to the bottom of the ocean; We have a dream, and it’s on the seafloor!" The crew, Masira and Shoujou let out a 'hurrah' at the end of Cricket's speech. 

Dreams. It was a topic that came up time and time again in our travels. An important topic to everyone I had met so far. The crew, Zenny, Henzo, Cricket, and I; we all had dreams that we wanted to fulfill. There were places we wanted to go, people we wanted to see, mysteries to solve, people to find...

I looked at Luffy, who was still happily chewing away, before looking back down at the food before us and finding my own snack to munch on. 

I guess I had already found my own dream, right?

"'The day I arrived on Jaya. Entry for May 21st, 1122. Upon landing on the island, we heard strange bird calls and the sound of a very large bell coming from the forest. The sound of that huge golden bell resonated far and wide, almost as if showing off the prosperity of a city long past! We thought we knew everything after living for a few decades... but experiencing the transience of this civilization that flourished for a long time on the wide open sea left us speechless! The sound of the bell had us stopped in our tracks!'" Cricket ended the quote with an enigmatic roar, which the trio of monkey boys echoed just as enthusiastically. 

"I just love stories with bells in them, especially gold ones!" Nami cheered, and I rolled my eyes with a laugh.

“Nami, you love anything that’s shiny and has a price tag.” She playfully slapped my shoulder, and I shied away jokingly. 

Right after Nami said it, Cricket produced that exact object from a large crate in the corner of the room; three golden bells. The girl, proving my point, practically jumped on them. 

"Huh... Doesn't seem too enormous to me." Usopp observed with a hand on his chin. Nami was cuddling one of the objects with Berry signs in her eyes. 

"These aren't that bell. They're bell-shaped golden ingots we found on the ocean floor." Cricket responded with a close-eyed smile. 

"No way. So there really is a city of gold!" Luffy cried, finally done eating. 

"It's still not proof, though! You could find golden relics like that lying around in any old ruins." Shoujou yells at him, trying not to let his anticipation get too high (a futile effort with Luffy). 

"Maybe so," Robin begins, and I know she's about to give us some historically-accurate-based-hope that would reinforce their belief in the mythical city; "But it does suggest that there was a civilization here sometime in the past. Ingots are made to divide gold into standardized units of weight. And that would indicate an advanced trading society."

"Exactly," Cricket affirms, "And remember that peculiar bird call he said they heard when they landed? Show it to 'em, Masira." 

Masira is moving before Cricket finishes his sentence, unveiling another, much larger, artifact composed completely out of gold. The creature that it depicts looks like a morphed version of a toucan, with a large beak and small body. Everyone is awed at the way it glistens in the candlelight. 

"Golden bells and birds, huh? Do you think they might be symbols of some ancient Jayan civilization?" Sanji asked, and I had to agree with the topic of the question; so far, all signs were pointing to that being the case. 

"I really couldn't say for certain, but I'm pretty sure all these pieces were a part of the same casting. This creature here is called the South Bird, and they still exist on this island today." Cricket pulled it closer to himself, inspecting the golden exterior for scuffs. Luffy follows it eagerly. 

"Wow, so they have a peculiar call?" The curious boy asks, still staring down at the remnant in wonder. 

"Uh-huh," Cricket confirms, "Just like in the log book." 

"Sailors have used South birds on ships since ancient times, so that--" Masira chokes on the words before he can finish speaking, and the two monkey brothers gasp in realization, looking at each other nervously. I furrow my brow, concerned, before hearing Cricket make the same noise. 

"Oh, crap!" The three of them emit, jumping to a stand in the middle of the room, a newfound urgency in what was once a laid back stance. 

"What's wrong?" The crew responds with equal importance. 

"This is really bad," Cricket spits, "You guys gotta' get to the forest on the South side of the island right away!" 

"Huh? Are you crazy, old guy?" Luffy looks at Cricket with a deadpan, not sure what he was talking about. I wasn’t sure what the problem was either. 

"Don't waste a minute! You gotta' capture one of these birds, and quickly!" Cricket chastised his question, before continuing swiftly.

"Now, listen carefully," he didn't waste another moment, "Tomorrow you're gonna' sail for the knock up stream; it lies directly South of here. How are you going to get there?" 

"We just sail the ship due South, of course." Luffy grunts, eyebrows furrowed and arms crossed as if the conversation was beginning to aggravate him. 

"Have you forgotten this is The Grand Line?! You're heading for the open sea, you won't be able to get your bearings!" Cricket shouts. 

"Wait, he's right. Without an island to lock onto, the log pose will be useless and there will be no way to navigate!" Nami exclaimed, looking anxious at the idea. 

"Oh." I said out loud, the cause of all this commotion clicking together in my head. They all turned to look at me. 

"W-Well," I started after noticing they were waiting for me to elaborate, "We need a South bird, and we need to go South... I'm just guessing, but does the South bird help us get there somehow?" 

The crew all looked at me like I was crazy. 

"I-I dunno,' maybe it like… migrates, or something." I finish nervously, before Cricket huffs out a puff of smoke from his cigarette. 

"She's right; you can use the South bird in order to get there. Certain animals are known to have a very accurate internal sense of direction, as if they're born with a natural compass." Cricket finalizes, and Usopp pats my shoulder apologetically for not believing me. I give him a look. 

"That makes Zoro dumber than an animal!" Luffy chortles. 

"Yeah, right, like you're one to talk!" 

"The South bird is a perfect example of this," Cricket ignores them, "their bodies always point in the same direction. Basically, if you don't get to that forest and catch one of those birds right now, you'll kiss your only chance to get to sky island goodbye!" 

Luffy, Chopper, and Usopp all screech in horror at the idea, before assuming a desperate scramble to get going. The rest of the crew follows, and we begin to rush out like a bunch of clowns in a tiny car. Despite Usopp's annoyance at the ordeal, Cricket hands out a few nets to aid in the capture. 

"The three of us are gonna' get started on the repairs to your broken-down ship." The monkeys are waving goodbye from behind Cricket, and I take that as our cue to leave. As soon as I turn though, I'm met with Zoro. 

"I think you should stay here," He gruffs, "since you've been working on the ship with Usopp, you can tell them about all the broken parts. We'll find the bird." 

I'm taken aback, speechless. I glance between his stern eyes, then at the gazes of the crew behind him, who seem to genuinely consider his statement. Sure, I wasn't the strongest in the group, but did he really think I couldn't help them find the South bird? Was I really that useless to them? 

I didn't get to ask him why, before Cricket interrupted. 

"Actually, yeah. That would be pretty helpful, so we don’t miss anything." 

"Are... you sure?" I finally spoke up, "You don't want my help?"

"Nah!" Luffy joyfully replies, "Zoro’s right, we're good. You should help Cricket out, anyways!" 

"Oh." I say softly, not even sure if they could hear me. As the group heads towards the forest, the only one who has a semblance of recognition for me getting left behind is Usopp, who begs to stay with me out of fear. Zoro gives me a nod, before following the rest of the group.

My chest hurts. I wanted to go with them.  

"We'll be back, okay?" Nami calls, "See you soon!"

I stand there, holding my marked arm in my hand. Their figures disappear into the darkness, before Cricket comes over and places a hand on my shoulder. I look up at him wearily. 

"Come on, there's no time to waste." I nod in response, trudging after him to the beat-up vessel. 

—

I do my best to identify and list each problem that the ship has over the next hour that passes, entirely off of my memory. The past few weeks of helping Usopp with its repairs were coming in handy. Still, it’s hard to stay focused when you have a realization that your crew might not actually value you as a member yet, despite your efforts, and still only sees you as some free-loader who can't really contribute; because you’re a weakling-weirdo who came here from another world a few weeks ago, and your soulmate still doesn't really give a damn about you at all. 

I wish I wasn't so useless. 

"Alright, that's the mast finished. What's next, short stack?" Masira hollers, and I take a look at the sides of the ship which are a patch-work of boards. I'm doing my best to get rid of the nauseous feeling in my stomach. 

"Well, the sides of the ship need work, and the hull does too... Some of the floorboards still need to be replaced, and..." I trail off, trying to organize my thoughts. 

"I'm guessing you're not too familiar with this line of work, kid." Cricket observes, and I shrink. 

"Sorry." I mumble, averting my eyes to The Merry's figure head. It looks back at me, silent and judging. 

"Don't be sorry," the older man continued, "I was just gonna' say that might've been the reason they left you behind." 

Something pinches in my chest. 

"Right... yeah, probably." I deflated, before moving to grab one of the boards they were using for the repairs. 

"Don't take it in a negative way, kid." He stops me in my tracks, and I turn to look at him. What positive way was there to think about this? 

"You're soulmates with Luffy, right?" I nod, "Then it's probably because of your lack of experience that they left you here; it's much safer here with us than it is out in the dark, in those woods. Try not to be so down about it." 

I blink, wrapping my head around the words, before slowly nodding again. He had a point, I suppose… But, why hadn’t they just said that in the first place? If they were worried about keeping me safe, they could’ve just said so. 

"Hey, Old Timer!" Shoujou shouts, his green hair flowing in the wind as the two of us look up at him. 

"We've got some company!" He points at a ship that's nearly ready to dock at the side of the island, not too far from where we stood in front of Cricket's home. None of us had managed to notice it until that point. 

"Who is that?" Cricket asks out loud, and I shake my head, stumped. 

"I dunno.'" I say quietly, before the two monkey brothers have made their way over. 

The boat, a dull brown with pink and gray accents, lowers the bridge for the crew to dock. Their jolly-roger waves in the brisk wind, showcasing a stuck-out tongue and lips over crossed bones. A small crowd of twelve people begins to filter out, led by a blonde man with a pink shirt and a blue-and-gold-adorned coat over his shoulders. His sinister smile matches the one on the figure head, crossed out with a half-slash. Cricket pushes me behind him before they get too close. I lose most of my visibility. 

"Mont Blanc Cricket!" He shouts from across the landscape, a wild edge to his tone. 

"Rumor in town says you've fished up quite the sum of gold recently... I'd like to have it for myself!" Pirates, I think, and not the good kind. 

"Now, now, little boy," Shoujou starts, voice carrying over the whipping wind, "You don't really wanna' go and make us angry, do you?" 

"It's not nice to show up in the middle of the night and demand gold from someone, now get lost! We've got a lot of work to do and not a lot of time to do it." Masira backs him up, chuckling as he cracks his knuckles. 

The man from before, whom I assume is the Captain, begins to cackle in a way that reminds me of a hyena. 

"You must be the bodyguards, and the old man must be the ex-pirate named Cricket... I heard the sad story of the Mont Blancs family, back at the pub. It moved me to tears." He taunted, and I could hear the teasing edge of his voice… He was mocking them.

"But stealing another man's treasure moves me even more; I'm a pirate, after all!” He grunts, and I hear the rustling of fabric as he removes his coat. 

"Maybe you'd like to know what people call me before I take your whole life's work. The Hyena!" Fitting. 

He chortles in a high pitch, true to his name; I can feel the tension thicken in the air, sticking uncomfortably to my skin, just as it always does right before a fight ensues. It seems they haven’t noticed me yet, and I'm thankful for Cricket allowing me to use him as a human shield.

"If you're looking for a fight, you've come to the right place!" Shoujou responds heartedly. 

"You're gonna regret mockin' the Saruyama alliance!" Masira is in a fighting stance, looking ready for whatever was inevitably coming our way. 

And it comes quickly. The crewmates charge with a rambunctious shout, throwing fists and words as they do it. I move back into the house as Cricket joins the skirmish, not looking to get myself involved. 

"Hand over the gold, Old Man! Do it quickly, and we may even let you live!" Another man with light blue hair, donned with a fur coat, gold chain, and striped gloves shouts as Cricket dodges. 

"You forgot to say 'please!'" He thrusts out his leg and kicks the guy in the chin after effectively blocking all of his punches; the blue haired man flips backward from the force of it. 

The Monkey brothers are holding their own just as well, effectively slamming away four or five other crewmates that had joined in on the action. 

Their captain, 'The Hyena,' stands with arms crossed and an excited smile. The sight makes my skin crawl. What the hell was he up to? 

"Looks like the boys might actually need a hand…" The blonde licks his lips, eyes wide. 

"Guess I'd better show 'em how it's done!" 

The others are too focused on the fight to realize what's happening, but I'm not. 

I watch the blonde's legs as they morph into springs. He crouches down, springs coiling; looking ready to pounce, and aiming for Masira. 

There isn’t a chance to warn him of what's coming, since the captain has already shot himself across the way, straight into Masira's back. 

The monkey-man groans, dropping the man in his hold as his back bends, and his eyes roll back. His body awkwardly molds into a ‘C’ shape, all due to the spring-man's punch.

Before he can recover, the blonde grabs Masira and launches himself off of the monkey's face, effectively punching Shoujou while simultaneously knocking his brother behind him. 

Next, he springs for Cricket, who dodges in the nick of time; however, the blonde is quick to rebound, landing on the Going Merry and propelling off of it with enough force to snap the hull in two. 

Cricket must've been too shocked to retaliate. The captain had punched him dead in the face within the next second, maintaining terrifying accuracy and speed. I watched the blood spill from the old man's lips in horror as he ragdolled onto the dirt. 

"Way to go, Bellamy!" One of the women of his crew acts as a cheerleader for the massacre, overjoyed by her captains brutality. 

"Cricket!" I cry out, pushing myself past the doorway and rushing to his side. He was laying so still, he looked like he was dead. I was anxious about him taking such a beating with his condition, since Chopper was so serious about it earlier. What if this pushed him past his limit? 

I don't make it very far, before I'm shoved in the shoulder and to the ground by the man with light-blue hair. 

"Look, Bellamy; they've got a girl!" He grins, and points his double-edged sword so that it rests under my chin. His Captain howls with laughter. 

"Well, well, well! Looks like Cricket might still have that pirate's spirit in him, after all!" He uncrosses his arms, reaching for his coat on the ground. 

I shiver as the cold steel brushes against my skin, not taking my eyes off the blade, even as it reflects the brightness of the moon into my eyes and blinds me. 

I’m too scared to swallow or breathe wrong. Any slight movement and he could have my neck sliced wide open. 

"Why don't we take you with us, huh?" The man removes the weapon from my jugular, finally, and I feel my limbs tremble. 

"How about it, we can pay you real nice in return..." He suggests. I feel like I could puke at his insinuation. 

"Enough!" Shouts Bellamy, "Grab her, and clean up this trash. Get the gold and take care of them."

Wordlessly, the blue-haired man reaches down and picks me up like a sack of potatoes, moving toward the massive ship. 

"No--" I grunt, trying to pry his arm off of me, "Lemme' go! I don't want to--" 

I kick and struggle the whole way, trying to get him to put me back down, but he doesn’t even acknowledge me. No matter how many times I punch or slap, my strikes are weak. 

The rest of their crew rushes past and begins to beat whatever life is left out of the Saruyama Alliance. They smash, jab, slash; all while they're still lying on the ground, stiff and unmoving. And they still don't stop, even as their blood begins absorbing into the grass. 

"Stop it!" I cry desperately, voice grating as tears run down my face, "Please, stop! Cricket, Masira, Shoujou!" 

"So much for your Saruyama Alliance," Bellamy chuckles, "Just an old man and a couple of overgrown apes!" 

"Just take the gold and go!" I yelp, getting closer and closer to their boat. 

"Haven't you done enough? Leave them alone!" 

"Shut her up, Sarquiss. I've had enough of her yowling." 

"Will do, Captain Bellamy." The gag is tied tightly around my head when they wrangle me onto the ship, inevitably rendering me unable to speak. They bind my hands and feet, before leaving me in the ship's corner, where I can still see the island.

As the crew begins to cast off, bag of Crickets gold in tow, I stare longingly over the rails; sobbing into the rag as I watch the limp forms of the Saruyama Alliance get farther and farther away. 

Quaking in my corner, no longer being able to worry about the Saruyama Alliance, I glanced around at the horrible smirking faces of Bellamy’s crew. In my haste to help Cricket, I had forgotten about my own safety. 

Where were they taking me? What if they were leaving the island? 

They couldn’t just take me, could they? But, then… How would the crew ever find me again? 

I hadn’t thought this through. 

I closed my eyes tightly. The tears squeezed out, anyway. 

--- 

"Hey, old guy! We caught one of those birds!" Luffy's voice echoes across the now-destroyed scene. Footsteps echo across the land, not yet seeing it, and blindly making their way through the dark. 

The crew stops short, finally seeing the wreck before them; a few of them gape in horror, the others stare in shock. 

Cricket, Masira, and Shoujou were laying in heaps; unresponsive. The ship was in pieces. Cricket's home was in ruins, ransacked and empty; scattered all over the grass as if it had exploded. 

Luffy raced over to the old man, whose eyes were cinched over closed eyes, bleeding and in pain. His tanned knees were stained with the bloody-mud around the dilapidated figure.

"Pops, what happened?" He hunched over the man's form. Cricket still didn't respond. 

"Masira!" Usopp called, and again there was nothing. 

"Shoujou!" Sanji found him lying face-up in the ocean, but the monkey didn’t utter a word. 

"What the... What happened here?" Nami whispered, baffled. 

"I've got a better question, who did this?" voiced Sanji as he was dragging Shoujou's body through the water.

"Wait," Robin started, and for the first time, the crew could hear alarm in her usually unchanged voice:

"Where's (Y/n)?" 

Nobody said a word. All of them looked at Robin in dread, realizing the weight of her words. 

Immediately, everyone began to search every nook and cranny, high and low; Usopp, Nami and Chopper were calling your name, Zoro and Luffy scoured the house and its remains, Robin searched in the surrounding forest, and Sanji even dove back into the ocean in case you might've fallen in... but, you were gone.

Once they reconvened, Zoro looked uncharacteristically beside himself. 

"We checked the house... she wasn't there. Cricket's gold isn't, either." His jaw was clenched with guilt. 

"Where... Where could she have..." Nami choked out tearfully, Chopper looking just about ready to cry as well. 

"Sorry... kid." Cricket rasped from the ground, and the reindeer was at his side in an instant. The man was looking at Luffy. 

"I... I'm truly sorry, kid," He gasped before trying to sit up, despite Chopper's fussing, "We did everything we could to stop them... but it wasn't enough." 

"What happened?" Luffy, who hadn't said anything during the search for his soulmate, asks in a dull tone. 

It's the same dull tone that the crew doesn't hear him use very often; it was like a switch must’ve gone off. 

"She's... She's gone. They took her." 

Nami covered her mouth to stop any noise from coming out, while Usopp and Chopper sniffled. Zoro turned and walked silently back towards Cricket's home. 

Luffy was quiet. Too quiet. He stood stock still and stared at Cricket with a look he couldn't decipher. Not one that blamed him for what happened, no. But it was a look that made his hair stand on edge, despite his seasoned age. 

It was a serious look; a dangerous one. 

"Hey, Luffy..." Zoro beckoned, and the boy turned slowly. 

Scrawled on the boards, the ones that served as a false-overlay to Crickets home, was the familiar mark of a jolly-roger: A smiling face with a slash in the middle. 

Nami recognized it, too. 

"That's Bellamy's..." She trails off with a gasp, before her face morphs into a snarl and she wipes her tears away aggressively.

"I told you, didn't I?" She seethed at the two men, "I told you, you should've beat those guys to a pulp and been done with it!" 

For the first time in a while, Luffy was angry; but there was no expression on his face to show it. 

He turned to look at Robin, ignoring Nami’s rage. Though, Robin couldn't see his eyes beneath the rim of his hat, brimmed with shadow. 

"If I follow the coast, will that take me all the way back to Mocktown?" He asked in a hushed, grave voice. 

"Yes, I believe it will." She confirmed, and that's all he needed to hear before he turned in the same direction. 

"We only have three hours," Sanji urged, "You better hurry and go get your soulmate, before it’s too late." 

Luffy said nothing, but they could all hear the bones in his hands popping as he sprinted away. 

---

It's been hours, and there was still no sign of anyone. 

I was starting to lose hope, forced into being cooped up with the drunken barbarians who had just beaten the tar out of my friends. And there wasn’t an escape in sight. We only had so much time before the crew would have to leave to catch the knock up stream in order to make it to sky island... Would they leave me here? Like they did when they went hunting for the South bird? 

No. Luffy would never. He might not pay much attention to me, but we were still soulmates. He wouldn't just leave me, and if not him, then Nami definitely wouldn’t... 

Right?

"Those apes were hilarious!" Giggled Sarquiss from beside me, "All bloody, with tears and snot running down their faces!" 

He flung an arm over my shoulder, leaning in close where I could smell the alcohol on his breath. Gagging, I squirmed away and out from under his arm, but bumped into another one of Bellamy's crew in the process. He grunted, irritated, before shoving me back to Sarquiss. 

My lungs clenched desperately in my chest for air, shrinking in my seat as if it would make me invisible. It was way too crowded, surrounded by a bunch of rugged thieves and murderers, I had learned from their stories. 

At least I was still on the same island.

My hands shook beneath the table. 

"Oh, come on babe," He went to do it again, and I dodged, "Wasn't that the funniest thing you've ever seen?" 

A chorus of agreements and whistling popped up around the table, all of them directed at me and attempting to coax me into a conversation, eyes shining in a hungry way that made my skin crawl. 

I couldn’t believe that they were laughing at the fact that they had probably beaten my friends to death; and now they wanted me to join in on the ‘fun.’ 

Another man went to grab at my waist, and I shimmied away; finally having enough and standing up, despite the glare I received from Sarquiss. 

"G-Get off of me!” I yelped apprehensively.

“I already told you, I have a soulmate!" I tried to put my foot down time-and-time again with this same statement, but none of them would bother to listen. 

"Yeah, okay, babe. Heard it so many times before," The drunken random from the crew tugged me back down, gripping hard at the soulmate mark as I winced. 

"And this is your ‘mark.’ Yeah, right-- Huh?" He was bewildered to have actually seen the mark on my arm for the first time that night, since nobody other than him had bothered to check if I was telling the truth. I honestly doubted that they would care, either way. 

"You're soulmates with that Luffy kid?" I yanked my arm back to myself, clutching at the mark like it was my anchor in this troubling situation.

"Yes, I am.” I tried to retaliate confidently, despite the waiver in my voice, “So leave me alone already, you--" 

"Bad news!" A man with a tall hat and scruffy face came barging into the room, effectively silencing everyone in the vicinity. Even the music stopped.

"This better be good..." Somebody from the table closest to me muttered. 

"Those guys-- The ones that were here this afternoon, they--" He slurred, before finding the person in the room that he was looking for, then gasping. 

"Bellamy! What are you still doin' here?! You... You've gotta' get outta' here, you're in terrible danger!" 

"What are you talking about? How am I in danger?" Bellamy scoffed with a frown, the veins in his forehead popping out of aggravation. 

"That-- That kid, from earlier, he's--" He groaned, seemingly unable to form the proper words, before decidedly fishing out a piece of paper and unfurling it to show the room. 

It was a wanted poster with Luffy's smiling face plastered on it; as well as Zoro's. As soon as he showed them, a few of the crewmates stopped muttering, and a few more dropped their tankards to the floor; some of which shattered. 

Everyone in the room seemed stun-locked. 

I didn't understand what was so important about it; after all, I knew that Luffy had a bounty, but it was only thirty million. The crew had told me a while back that it wasn't a very high amount for a well-known pirate, so what was their deal all of a sudden? 

"One hundred million?" Somebody whispered. 

"Sixty million?" Others added. 

Oh. I guess I missed the fact that their bounties had been raised. 

"Those two together are worth one-hundred-and-sixty-million! Their bounties are higher than yours, Bellamy. Do you know what that means?" He gasped, out of air and gaping like a fish. 

"You're dead meat!" 

So, it was a big number; And a deserving one, since Luffy had defeated one of the Seven Warlords of the Sea. He was, I assumed, a strong pirate.  

But, still… After seeing Bellamy completely dismantle the ship and knock-out the trio, I was nervous. Even if Luffy had that high of a bounty now, would he be able to defeat Bellamy? How high was Bellamy’s bounty?

Now I was wondering if I even wanted him to rescue me; Not if it meant he was going to be hurt in the process. I didn’t want to see him lying on the ground like Cricket was. 

This was all becoming very overwhelming very fast. 

Bellamy's crew begins to panic, all squandering reasons to leave, shouting at each other in disagreement on whether or not Bellamy could take on Luffy. With their booze forgotten and chairs pushed back, I try my best to move toward the door in the commotion. 

If I could leave on my own, then nobody would have to get hurt. 

"Hey, hey, hey! All it takes to scare you ‘big tough guys’ are some little scraps of paper!" Bellamy cackles, and everybody shuts up. 

"What, do you all have empty sockets for eyes? You saw that scrawny leader! This is nothing but a sham.” The men looked unconvinced. I kept moving. 

“I'll explain it to you morons. There are pirates like these losers who fake their own wanted posters to make a name for themselves. The fakers win fights without throwing a single punch... Their enemies would take one look at their bogus bounties, turn tail, and run. Just like you sorry excuses are doing right now!" He lifts his hand up, waving it around to exaggerate certain parts of his explanation. 

"B-But, Bellamy, are you sure...?" The same man holding the posters speaks up once again, and Bellamy rolls his eyes in disappointment. 

"Fine. Why don't I show you how weak that brat really is?" He grunts, coming to a stand, before beginning to march over in my direction; I had made it halfway to the door at this point, but now I was frozen. 

"After all," He gives me a maniacal grin, looking down at me with wide eyes as he stops in front of me, and I wonder if he can hear my heart thumping in my chest;

"We have his soulmate right here, don't we?" 

His hand comes up and latches itself to the hair on my scalp, before continuing on his way to the saloon doors. 

My scalp is on fire as he wrenches me along, and I let out a cry. Then, using the same hand, he jerks his arm harshly; throwing me through the doors. 

A few of the crew, still inside, laugh at the sight as I roll down the stairs. Landing roughly on my stomach, I cough against the dusty ground, whining at the feeling of the bruises forming on my skin. 

As I'm pushing myself to my knees, arms wobbling, I hear the doors open behind me. Bellamy's boot-clad feet are stomping ever-closer, and my pulse races.

I whip around to look at him, not wanting to be grabbed or tossed again. Instead, I see the barrel of a gun in my face. 

My blood freezes in my veins. 

Staring down the cylinder, my heartbeat’s in my ears, looking in the face of death. 

My face must’ve gone pale. He sniggers from behind the gun. 

"Let's see what he's going to do if she's in danger, huh?" He taunts, pushing the barrel right to my forehead where I flinch, and clench my eyes in terror. 

The tears come then, fueled by the heightened feeling of the metal pressing harshly, combined with the sound of the pistol being cocked; reverberating through the object and into my skull. They spill down my face, and I bite my lip as it trembles. 

"Awe, you're just as pathetic as that soulmate of yours, aren't you!" He roars with laughter, and I grow stiff from every movement. My eyes peek open, vision blurred, but still able to make out his finger on the trigger. 

"Go on," He nods his head once, once he sees me open my eyes, "Call him."

The sob forces its way out of my throat as I close my eyes again, shaking. 

I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t move. 

"Call him." Bellamy says with less patience, tone tinged with the darkness of a man who had killed once before, and who would do it again; 

"So that we can see what lover-boy will do, yeah?" 

No.

I had only just got here, only just found Luffy; and now I was going to die.

Was this some sort of cruel fate? 

“I’m running out of patience, you brat–” 

"I'm right here." 

My eyes snap open, and the gun is forgotten in an instant, left as a forethought in momentary shock. 

I turn my head to look, and I think I might melt into the boards below when I see him. 

The first thing I notice is his hat; it's hanging from his neck, not on his head like it always is. His hair is whipping wildly in the wind, untamed.

The second thing I notice is the look on his face. He's frowning, brows creased over a determined gaze that doesn't leave mine. It registers; I don’t think I’ve ever seen him look at me like this before. 

He completely ignores the black tendrils that brush over his sight. There's an intensity in the way he's looking at me. Tiny, rapid movements of his pupils tell me he's scanning my own face, searching for something; it seems desperate, concerned. 

It's relieving. It's comforting. 

I bite my lip, not bothering to mask the sob that comes out of my throat as we stare at each other. He had come to save me.

“Luffy–” Bellamy hoists me up by my collar, cutting me off and pushing me into another crew member behind him, who grabs me in response. I hadn’t noticed that the others had begun to make their way outside, now.  

Luffy's stare hardens into a glare when Bellamy is placed in his line of sight, all sense of care gone. 

"Give 'em back," He grunts out, "My soulmate and Pop's gold. I want 'em both." 

"Finally!" Bellamy jeers, crouching into a stance similar to the one I had seen during the fight from earlier, and alarm bells go off. Luffy can’t end up the same. I writhe in the man's grip, and he jostles me to stand still as I whine softly, hiccuping. 

"You want 'em? Come and get 'em, kid!" Despite his words, he moves first. 

"Don't worry, this won't take long," And he pounces, "Spring Sniper!" 

The memory of blood bursting from Crickets lips flashes in my mind, Bellamy's fist connecting with his cheek; and I picture Luffy in his spot. 

The breath leaves my chest in relief as Luffy dodges, jumping up and managing to land on the roof of a house nearby. He stumbles as he does. 

Bellamy doesn't let it slide. 

"You got lucky!" The older of the two grits out, before pursuing the younger a second time. 

The boy dodges narrowly this time, flipping over the siding and gripping at the roof's edge. His arms stretch for a moment, naturally bobbing his body up and down due to his rubber qualities, but he looks okay. 

"Does that kid actually think he has a chance here?" Sarquiss laughs from somewhere next to me. I don't care enough to look at him, eyes locked on my soulmate as he hangs precariously from a rooftop. 

"If nothing else, this should be entertaining. Bellamy always puts on a good show." Another man with blonde hair and glasses states, one of Bellamy’s lackeys. 

"He talked all big, but now he's just running away!" 

The two are at a standstill on top of their respective buildings, now. Luffy effortlessly pulled himself back into a better position, almost like hanging from the building didn't even put a dent in his stamina. In fact, he didn't look tired at all. 

Bellamy shouts something indiscernible at him, looking smug, before shooting toward him a third time. 

He misses once more as Luffy scarcely avoids the attack, but this time he falls. 

Watching how languidly he falls, arms flailing in the air, I wonder if maybe he actually did get hit. My chest constricts, breath caught in my throat.  

"You're nothing but a little boy who still believes in dreams! You disgrace the rest of us by calling yourself a pirate. It's time to stop this foolish dreaming and grow up!" Bellamy is getting more and more frustrated, likely due to Luffy’s evasion. It's listless in his form as he comes to a crouch near the crowd.

Luffy still says nothing, he doesn't make a peep even as he keeps falling. 

Was he knocked out? Was he okay?

"Now, let's end this!" Bellamy roars as he fires himself once more at Luffy, this time hitting his target. 

He nails him, and Luffy lets out a surprised yelp, not expecting the attack in midair. I listen to his uneven scream as he spins his way down to the ground; aimed directly at the crowd in front of the tavern. 

The onlookers flee as he collides with an explosion of dust. 

His scream cuts short, and I can feel the sudden spreading of pain across my back and shoulders. I scan desperately over the rubble with piercing eyes, trying to blink away the tears so I can see better. 

Just barely, beneath the cloud of dust, I can make out the bright-red of his vest. He’s not showing any signs of moving.

"Luffy!" I screech. The man from behind gives a harsh 'shut up,' clasping a hand over my mouth as Bellamy begins another speech. 

"See? There's no escape!" He exclaims from the top of another building. 

"I've eaten a devil fruit, so you don't stand a chance against me!" 

I stop, the topic of devil fruits triggering a realization. I trace back through the entirety of the fight in my mind, just to make sure I wasn’t crazy; but I knew I was right. 

But why?

This whole time, Luffy hadn't bothered to make a move on Bellamy. 

In fact, he had spent the whole time dodging when he otherwise would have been fighting; just like he did with all the marines we ran into. Luffy had his devil fruit too, so why wasn't he using it?

Something was off. 

"Looks like your dreams are at an end." Bellamy smiles wickedly from his lofty position. 

The dust clears, showcasing Luffy's body submerged in a mess of broken-wooden-planks, crumpled and hunched. But, I’m not crying anymore. There’s something weird; whatever the feeling is, it’s assuring me that he’s fine.

Then, as soon as they stop jeering, Luffy begins to move. He pushes to his feet without much of a struggle, and I watch, unblinking, as he barely seems affected. 

There isn't a hint of discomfort in his posture, standing straight and staring dead at Bellamy; unwavering, even as Bellamy mocks him from the tower in the night sky. 

Luffy... wasn't hurt. 

"You don't know when to quit, do you? Fine, have it your way, we're just getting to the good part!" Bellamy bends down at his knees again. But this time, as he releases the tension in his legs, he doesn't stop at one spot. 

He springs from the floor, to the side of a building, to another one, and then back to the floor again. It's not a strict pattern, though. He’s mixing it up, and increasing speed as he does it. 

It's a mesh of high-pitched noise as he bounces from one place to another. Soon, he becomes almost impossible to see. 

If Luffy got hit by that, then he--

"So, you want your soulmate back? You think you're man enough to keep a woman happy, even though you're busy chasing dreams like a child?!" Bellamy shouts. 

"And you want the gold back because the old-man's your friend? Wake up! He's nothing but a decrepit fool who spends all his time chasing after a four-hundred year old lie. But that's probably what you like about him, right?" Luffy's face begins to morph into one of aggravation, the look grows with each of Bellamy's harsh words. I can only watch in trepidation. 

"You like to call yourselves pirates, but you know nothing! There's no 'city of gold,' no island in the sky; just oceans and ships and the men who sail them!" 

"You asked if I know how to throw a punch." The boy with the straw hat finally speaks up, after not saying a word the entire fight. 

He lifts an arm at his side, the muscles tense as he flexes his fingers. Here, in the dim night-light of the tavern reflecting off of his tanned skin, his usually-skinny arms show definition. Faintly, I hear the popping of bones, and I wonder if it's his knuckles cracking. 

Bellamy's crewmates cheer and holler for him to finish the fight, for him to do away with Luffy and 'get it over with.' 

All my fear dissipates. 

Maybe it's the look on his face, or the confidence in his pose; or maybe it's the anger and the resolution I can feel reverberate within me, even though it's not my own...

Whatever it was, I knew he was going to win. 

"So long, Straw Hat!" Bellamy chants, practically a missile that's focused straight at Luffy’s torso.  

Luffy's dark eyes lock-on, his pupils dilate, and the yellow of the lamp light shines in their center; a target of his own. 

With a bellowing cry of anger, Luffy slams his fist directly onto Bellamy's face. 

The sound is like a gun-shot, echoing over Mocktown. 

It's followed shortly after by the creak-and-snap of the wood as Bellamy's body creates a man-sized crater, his legs flailing up behind him.

The blonde captain coughs up blood, a fist imprinted on his cheek, before he lies still. 

Nobody moves. 

The wind brushes softly overhead. 

Luffy had beaten Bellamy. 

He reaches behind him for his hat, knuckles dripping with blood, before placing it on his head. I wondered if it was his blood, or if it was Bellamy’s. 

"H-Hey," Sarquiss stutters, "Quit messing around Bellamy. G-Get up, already." 

The Captain doesn't move. Everyone around begins to murmur, perplexed. 

"S-See!" The drunk from before urges, now panicking even more, "I told you so!" 

Luffy finally turns from glaring at Bellamy's unconscious form, gaze directing every ounce of its fury in my direction; and it’s targeting the man behind me, still holding me captive. 

I can feel his hands tremble and loosen, an iron grip turned to feathers. With a pitiful whimper, he removes his hand from over my lips, and backs away. 

I stand there like a statue, though, not sure what to think. Even as Luffy takes a step toward me, and I hear the majority of Bellamy's crew turn-tail and run, I still don't move. 

There were a lot of things I still didn't know about this place. But I knew some things. I knew about The One Piece, I knew about Devil-fruits, and I knew that Luffy and the crew were strong…

But, to knock out a man in one punch? A punch with enough force to cause a crater in the ground? I never imagined it, not from somebody who was as smiley and happy as he was. Sure, he was a little rough around the edges, but...

Just how strong was Luffy?

Once he's made his way over, he stops, wordless. He’s still frowning.

“Hey.” He finally greets, softly, and I blink at him, puffy eyes feeling stiff after crying. His frown deepens. 

"Did they hurt you?" The question is quiet, a stark contrast from his usual demeanor, always exuberant and excited. It's strangely reassuring, in a way, to see this side of him. 

I shake my head wordlessly, knowing that whatever they might've hurt me with, he was hurt a hundred times worse. He hums, eyes catching the rope burn on my wrists, as well as the fingerprints on my arms. I move to shakily rub at the tender skin. 

"C'mon," He grabs my hand in his, our palms tightly clasped together, like he doesn’t want to let go. 

"I'll have Chopper fix you up when we get back." 

I follow after him on shaky legs as he gently pulls us in the direction of the tavern, going to look for Cricket's gold. My heart is doing backflips in my chest, pleasant shivers running down my spine at the contact; my face is definitely pink, but I’m still sniffling down leftover tears. 

It takes a bit to actually find the sack of gold that's mixed within the mess of booze bottles and food, but when we do, Luffy has helped himself to at least five of the non-empty plates on each of the tables. He's finally looking more like his usual self, grinning in triumph when we finally find what we're looking for. He only lets go of my hand for a moment as he slings the hefty weight over his shoulders, before snatching it up again and moving towards the door. 

"That wasn't too hard to find!" He giggles as we leave the tavern, and turns to look at me, "Let's go back to the ship!" 

"Okay." The word is soft as I nod, and I've found myself able to speak again, glancing at intertwined hands with a buzz in my head.  

The shock must've worn off, but when we pass by the traces of Bellamy’s crew, I still cower and attempt to use Luffy's body as a shield; They're all huddled over his body, still in disbelief. I didn’t want to attract any more of their attention than I already had that night. 

"Hey, you, come back here! We won't be beaten by some pretend pirates!" I flinch at Sarquiss's high-pitched shout, stepping closer to Luffy, who doesn't seem bothered; flicking his eyes over to my own and smiling wider. 

"You hear me, you stupid runt! I'm talking to you!" Luffy continues to march along happily, and I try to look forward and do the same, despite the angry aura emanating from behind us. 

"I'll show you a real punch, where are you going?!" Finally, Luffy stops, and the emotions drop from his face, so I can't tell what he's thinking. 

"Where am I going?" He gruffs, raising the same blood-soaked fist as before.

There's a fleeting moment where I think he's actually going to punch the sore-loser, and Sarquiss thinks the same as he falls over in terror. Then, he points a single finger upwards. 

"The sky." He says simply, and I feel my shoulders slouch in relief. I'd had enough fighting for today. 

“How far is the–” I stumble when Luffy pulls me to his front, suddenly. Before I know what’s happening, he's bent down and looped his arms beneath my back and knees, scooped up in a bridal-carry that makes me feel weightless. 

All the blood in my body rushes to my face as I clutch at his vest with a hand, my head going fuzzy. 

"U-Um, uh-- Luffy, I-I can walk, you don't have to--" I squeak out, and he laughs, adjusting me for a better holding position. 

"It's fine, don't wanna' lose you again anyways," He chuckles, and I look at him in disbelief.

"Why are you so worried? I like holdin' you." I pause, giving him a vacant stare as the words register. His chest bubbles with laughter, cackling at the look on my face. 

I like holdin' you. It echoes in my head like a mantra. 

"Oh. O-Okay." He makes it hard to argue with his fingers grazing over my skin like that; he was surprisingly gentle. 

"Alright, let's go!" He shouts with glee, before racing off toward the coast line. 

"We gotta' get back to the ship soon, or else we won't make it to sky island!" I nod to his delighted words, but he probably can't see me as I wrap my arms around his shoulders for stability; practically being tossed around as we traversed the rugged edge of the forest. 

The sun begins to peak above the ocean as he reaches a full-on sprint. 

---

About twenty minutes pass, before the excited boy begins to ramble about their adventure in the woods while they were trying to catch the bird, since I ‘missed out and he felt bad.’ 

"Me and Chopper were chased by all these weird bugs– and I even caught an Atlas Beetle! I can't wait to get back and add him to my collection." We leap over a few rocks and I hold on tight when he lands in a crouched position with an 'oof,’ before cackling happily, despite nearly dropping me. 

I blink as I notice something flit by in the darkness, still clutching at his collar. 

"Like that one?" I point at the insect as it lands on a nearby tree, and he screeches to a halt, gasping loudly. 

"No way," His eyes shine, "That's a Hercules Beetle! I can't believe you found one, we gotta catch it! Right now!" 

"But, what about the knock-up--"

"Don’t worry, it'll be quick!" 

[cels-not-so-secret-love-affair]

falling to the music pt. 3 (jily)

a/n: it’s been a slow sort of week, but we’re making a comeback with another instalment of my silly little jily band au. yay!

previous | next

Mr Nice, sensibly, waits for Lily to text him before attempting to call her. She’s calmer when she does so, and about to cook dinner for herself and her roommates in her student flat. It’s something to do with her hands other than holding her phone, or potentially throwing it at a wall if he says anything either too irritating or too attractive. A preventative measure. After explaining the situation to James, she pops him on speakerphone, and props him up on the counter.

‘Hello?’ His voice is slightly tinnier over the line, but it still makes Lily shiver a little. It’s got a richness to it that feels comforting.

‘Good evening, James,’ she calls, slicing her chicken into strips.

‘Lily! Lily Evans, how are you?’ The full name should not have the effect it does. Nor should it send flashing images of the words Lily Potter through her mind. Christ, there’s something wrong with me.

‘I’m okay. Still recovering from the bashing my ego took after being ghosted for almost a full business week, but I’m breathing.’

‘I really am very sorry about that,’ he repeats earnestly.

‘Yeah, well. Just don’t go lobbing your new phone at gaggles of seagulls or whatever, and I’ll let you off.’

‘Duly noted.’ She can hear his smile again. It bleeds into the shapes of the vowels. Diabolical.

‘Enjoy your Saturday?’ she asks, moving to wash her hands.

‘Yes, actually. We had practice in the morning, trying out some new songs. Then I got some work done for school, went on a run, came home. Now I’m talking to you, which is, naturally, the highlight of my day.’

‘You’re a flirt, Mr Potter. What degree do you do?’ Lily’s switched to chopping vegetables now and, against her will entirely, has found herself smiling down at her red peppers.

‘Architecture! It sounds poncey, I know, but I swear on my life it’s interesting.’

‘I’ll believe you. Although I have to say it doesn’t match up very well with the whole lead guitarist thing.’

‘No matter how many cool points those showy riffs might earn me, I am, at heart, a bit of a nerd. Sorry to disappoint you.’

‘I’m not disappointed.’

‘I’ve lucked out then. How about you, what degree do you do?’

‘Hmm. You know what - have a guess. If you’re right I’ll chuck a bit of carrot at my screen as a reward.’ James laughs at that, and Lily feels a sense of accomplishment blooming in her chest. The sound is very easy to listen to.

‘Alright, I love a challenge. Let’s see… something to do with English?’

‘Bloody hell. How’d you figure that one out?’

‘I’m right, then?’

‘Yeah. English Language and Literature.’

‘Score! It was a bit of a guess really. You had a pin on the strap of your bag when you came to talk to me after the show. A proper enamel one, shaped like a stack of books. I remember wondering where you got it from.’ Lily is momentarily baffled at how this man can forget to charge his fucking phone and remember this seemingly innocuous detail about her all in the same day. It’s sweet, though, that he takes an interest. It almost makes her forget the four days spent sans text message.

‘That’s observant of you.’

‘Yeah, I suppose. Where did you actually get it from, the pin?’

‘Oh, it was just a gift from a friend.’

‘The one that came with you to the concert? Or someone else?’

‘No, not Mary, though she is basically unbeatable in the gift giving department. It was from one of my flatmates, Alice.’

‘Mary isn’t a flatmate then?’

‘No, she grew up here, so she’s living with her parents whilst she does her degree.’

‘Nice.’ A short quiet falls then. With any other of her previous interests, it probably would have been awkward, but not with James. It’s just nice. He’s nice.

‘What are you cooking?’ he pipes up after a few minutes.

‘Something simple. Chicken stir fry.’

‘I bet that’ll be great.’

‘Hopefully, yeah. Have you eaten yet, James?’ Lily is surprised at how soft the question sounds when it comes out of her mouth. The bastard’s endeared himself to me, she thinks.

‘Not yet. I’ll message Sirius in a bit, see what he fancies. He’s a shit cook, so it’s either I cook for the both of us or we go out for dinner.’

‘You guys are really close then.’

‘Yeah,’ James says, and he sounds like he’s properly proud of it. ‘He’s basically my brother. We grew up together, you know? And then he lived with us for a few years until the two of us were eighteen, and then we came to the same uni together and everything. We just get each other.’

‘That’s lovely.’

‘Yeah. He’s like, the best thing in my life right now. Him, and the band, and big Tesco’s.’ Lily laughs at that last addition.

‘A respectable top three, to be sure. How did it come about, the band?’

‘We all went to school together. But like, school’s boring, right? Or at least secondary is. So we needed something to make it more bearable, and there were two typical teenage things we came up with in the end. Pranks - aimed at teachers and cocky year sevens and generally just creating chaos - and starting a band. God, I don’t know how McGonagall put up with us. We’d run round the place like dickheads setting traps for whoever was unlucky enough to be in the Maths department that day, and then spend all our lessons planning stuff to do with the band. What songs we were going to play, what outrageous outfits Sirius could wear next, what we’d call ourselves. And then that never really stopped.’ James has a way of speaking that just puts you at ease, Lily finds. It’s almost like magic.

‘Sounds a lot more eventful than my experience at school.’

‘Yeah. Eleven to fifteen was pretty insane. We calmed down a bit after that - A Levels to think about and all.’

They keep talking for a while, on their cosy little cooking call. The conversation just seems to flow, moving from topic to topic like embroidery thread dipping into silk until Lily is somehow already plating up, five neat portions of food ready to be served. She tells James this, and he congratulates her on a job well done. Then, they say their goodbyes and he leaves her to the rest of her night. There’s a strange sort of emptiness after he hangs up the phone. She didn’t realise just how much she’d gotten used to having his voice chatting away in the background.

[indelen]

This is my reread of the Lockwood and Co. Books, organized by @blue-boxes-magic-and-tea , I'll make a general summary of several chapters and then post bits and pieces that jumped out at me.

Part IV, Chapter 22

This chapter are all action and it’s where the trio really come together and work well as a team which, after so many hiccups and spats and disagreements is really nice to see. The one thing you broadly notice throughout this book but especially in these chapters is that for all his flaws Lockwood is the first to enter any danger. He’s the first to go down the secret passage, the first to go through the crack in the wall, first to enter any danger basically. This is not presented as something he does to the point of recklessness … yet. At the same time the first hints of conflict between Lucy and Lockwood are introduced. It’s here that Lucy first vocalizes her frustration with how closed off Lockwood is and how uncommunicative about his plans. George is more used to Lockwood's antics but as the chapter goes on even he has had it. And the way it's written sets things up for the next book, but also shows that Lockwood is not doing it consciously or out of distrust. His intense resolve, the ability to shut down any emotional response and put on a calm facade, are all so automatic it’s obviously second nature to him. Even after they all escape the terrifying room of blood his calm doesn't crack. When they’re held at gunpoint it doesn't crack. And we’re left wondering how he got this way and what will it take to break through that facade.

Odds and Ends:

Dozens of deaths in one room. Dozens. This is a murder room. People got locked in here before. Lots of people. One guy dies in a room is sad. Two is bad luck. Anything over three is a pattern. When you get to the double digits someone has figured out how to make use of some very angry ghosts to get rid of some very disliked guests. People got Cask of Amontillado-ed here. It’s why the apparitions manifest as they do, a sea of blood that floods every inch of the place. The Red Room is a condensed version of The Problem itself - it’s a supernatural phenomenon greedy assholes use to kill and manipulate the situation in their favor. To murder people, to control people and look innocent doing it.

Lucy is obviously a once in a generation Listener, that much is certain because we have a very specific measurement by which we can go by - she can talk to Type 3s - but Lockwood’s Talent is also extraordinarily powerful. Like Lucy's, it’s powerful enough to be debilitating. It's powerful enough to pick up on deaths of small, non-self-aware beings (RIP Little Vole of Sheen Rd.). Lockwood’s Sight also bleeds into Smell (like Lucy’s Listening bleeds into Touch). I'd argue, Lockwood is on par with Lucy in terms of Talent. But his is all factual, while her’s is way more emotional and empathetic. In a way they were always going to be two of a pair.

Lockwood blames himself here, as he is often want to do, but it was a fairly natural and logical to assume they would be alone in this part of the house. He had no way of knowing adults have a way to protect themselves from the supernatural because they made sure he and other kids didn’t know this.

I love how Lucy and George’s friendship develops in this book into a “each one gives as good as they get” dynamic. If there’s a snipe volleyed in one direction another gets sent right back in equal measure.

I don’t have a comment here I just think this is a hilarious passage and it doesn't get it’s laurels enough. I love George but he must be a lot to live with day to day.

No listen, the trust and faith Lockwood has in Lucy is so unwavering. From the beginning and despite everything. Stroud said that Lockwood on some level knew he was in love with Lucy from the moment he saves her at the well and I like that over “love at first sight” because it means that he had, from the first and no matter what feelings developed later, respected Lucy personally and professionally in a way no one else ever did.

The fact that Lucy had to save herself by jumping out of a window during the Mill case, and now, it’s six months later and she’s preparing, fully preparing to jump again and she knows it’s probably to her death. And she suppresses all of this, she barely talks about it to the reader or to anyone else in universe, because dwelling on it, going over it, especially at times like these would render her catatonic.

Ok so I think Lockwood is projecting here. This foreshadows The Room in Portland Row a bit, or more specifically explains how Lockwood feels about it and why he has such difficulty talking to people about it. Jessica’s Room is a place of intense supernatural aura tied to a traumatic event. And the traumatic event for him was so all consuming that I think he stopped seeing The Room as part of the house at all. It’s a place suspended in time, removed from the rest of the building by iron bars and wards and memory and grief. Life moved on around it, an agency was formed, new people moved in, time passed everywhere but in there. And Lockwood haunts the space. He’s the only one who can enter it. He is it’s only Visitor. Jessica never returned to the place where she died. It’s Lockwood that haunts it.

See this is the nice thing about George, you call him out on something and he’ll own to it. My emotionally aware king!

No mention of Lockwood's smiles this time around so the counter is still at 9. I'm going to end on this all round favorite though:

[thee-ghosty]

please continue snippet 8 it's so cool

Snippet #8.1

Part 1 part 3

Language, graphic depictions of violence

Venraire’s their father? 

Are you fucking serious? 

Civilian swam through the wave of thoughts bombarding their mind. Now, they don’t have just a stranger bleeding out on their couch, but the child of the biggest crime boss in the whole damn city. Why didn’t they listen to common sense, just for once? 

Should I call the police? Maybe.They couldn’t run anywhere in their condition. And if the police question me, I’ll just tell the truth. I wouldn’t get in trouble for being a good citizen…right? 

The only problem was they couldn’t call the police right in front of the criminal. They’d probably snap their neck or something. Civilian wasn’t sure what this person could do, they didn’t even know Venraire had a child in the first place. But they did know this person was dangerous and could probably kill them in a multitude of ways without breaking a sweat. 

Maybe if I go get more towels, then I probably won’t raise their suspicion. Hopefully. 

Civilian swallowed. “I-I need to get more towels. Just one sec-”

“What about the ones on the ground?” 

Civilian took a quick glance at the floor, the neatly stacked towels next to their knees. “Uh, they’re not good. Need the other kind.” 

“God, you’re a terrible liar.” The criminal’s gaze pinned them in their place. It was calculating, a glint of something they couldn’t decipher. Civilian could only look with wide eyes. The criminal sighed. 

“Look, if you care for your life, then do exactly as I say. You’re going to give me your phone and not move a muscle as I call my people. When they arrive, you’ll stay exactly where you are until we’re gone. You won’t say a word of this to anyone or I will gut you like a fish. Understood?”

All Civilian could do was nod, their hand shaking as they pulled their phone from their pocket, the criminal snatching it out of their hand. Civilian kept their gaze down as the other quickly typed and dialed. The phone rang for a beat before being picked up, Civilian not able to hear the other voice on the line. 

“Sparrow in red, sending you the coordinates.” 

The call ended and the criminal typed again before placing the phone beside them. Neither of them said a word, only the sound of the criminal’s ragged breaths and the hum of the AC unit breaking the silence. Civilian’s whole body was rigid, fearing even breathing could mean their death. 

Would they kill them anyway? Civilian was a liability now, and it doesn’t seem like the child of a crime boss would spare anyone. The question was on the tip of their tongue. No, their conscience told them, don’t be stupid-

“Are you going to kill me anyway? After your people get here?” Civilian choked out.

The criminal turned their gaze to them, eyes narrowing. “Kill you anyway?” they repeated.

“I-I’m a loose end, aren’t I? I figured you worked under a ‘no witnesses' kind of thing.” 

The criminal considered it for a moment. “That depends on you. Don’t say anything and we pretend this didn’t happen. Do say something and, well…” 

Civilian closed their eyes, praying to god they could keep their mouth shut, just this once. If only they could reverse time, then they could be laying in their bed, watching some terrible soap opera and eating ice cream. Not covered in blood and thinking of their probably imminent death. If only-

The lights suddenly shut off, the hum of the AC unit dying away. Civilian opened their eyes, confusion evident on their face before morphing to annoyance. Seriously? A power outage right now? This is the third time this month. 

“Is this normal?” The criminal said, judgment laced in their voice. 

“Unfortunately. Jesus, I need to find a better apartment complex.” Civilian muttered under their breath. 

“And a new couch. There is no repairing this one.”

Yeah, no thanks to you. They almost let it slip out before barely catching it. 

Something thumped against the front door, startling Civilian. Their head whipping up towards the sound, ears straining to hear anything else. 

Another thump rang out, their breath quickening once again. 

Another. 

Silence. Civilian held their breath.

The door was sent across the room, flying off its hinges in splinters. A furious pounding of footsteps invaded the room. A yelp escaped their lips as Civilian ducked in front of the couch. Indistinguishable voices clamored over each other as more people ran into the room. 

What the fuck is happening?!

“Grab my hand,” the criminal hissed behind them. 

“What?” Civilian stammered. 

“Grab my hand!” They threw it in front of them. Civilian’s eyes frantically passed between the criminal and their hand before they finally latched on. A sudden surge of energy traveled through them, like fire was poured into their veins. Their eyes glazed over, something grabbing onto their soul and pushing it aside to make way for whatever entity was now possessing them. They could see their body, but they weren’t controlling it, especially when they rose from the ground and sprouted a blade of blue electricity from their hands. 

What the actual fuck?

Civilian watched as they turned to the crowd of people in their living room. They looked like soldiers, black masks over their faces and combat gear covering them head to toe. They took a breath and raised the blade above their head before throwing it down, a loud clap of electricity crashing through the soldiers. 

Civilian didn’t want to watch but they physically couldn’t keep their eyes away. They sent the blade through the chests of two soldiers, twisting it before flinging them across the room into another set of soldiers. Limbs were twisted. Bones were cracked. Screams of pain echoed in the room. Soldiers were split open and skulls crammed into the walls. It was a blur of blood and electric light. 

And just as suddenly it began, it was over. Bodies splayed over the apartment, sunken into broken furniture and cracked walls. The entity remained for a moment, almost taking in the headspace it currently crowded before leaving in a rush. Civilian sunk to the ground, barely able to keep their eyes open. They were fading in and out, barely remembering the new set of people who came in and carried them off. Barely remembering the criminal’s faint words. “I think we’ll keep this one.”

[zukkaoru]

BSD RAREPAIRS SAVE US… hmm lets see

kunichuuzai + “get off me, please”

nikoran + teeth

lucygin + “do you really think this will last?”

ohhh my beloveds!!! thank you for the prompts i hope you enjoy <333

kunichuuzai + “get off me, please”

Dazai is having a very nice time not-quite-napping while lying atop Kunikida when the door to Kunikida’s dorm opens and a loud voice calls out, “Oi! I’m back! Are you two in here?!”

Dazai frowns to himself. If Chuuya is back, that means it’s time for dinner which means Dazai will have to get up which means he can’t lay on top of Kunikida anymore. The world is truly such a cruel place.

But before Kunikida can push him off, Chuuya steps into the bedroom. Immediately, they laugh. “Napping without me?”

“We’re not—” Kunikida starts.

“Shhh,” Dazai interrupts, blindly reaching up to throw his hand over Kunikida’s mouth. “I’m still asleep.”

“Well.” Chuuya clicks their tongue. They run a hand through Dazai’s hair, bare fingers warm against his scalp. They must’ve already removed their gloves. “We wouldn’t want to wake the sleeping mackerel, now would we?”

Kunikida makes an aborted sound of protest, and then Chuuya drops themself onto the pile, squishing Dazai. He whines wordlessly, but doesn’t struggle because this would actually be a really nice way to die. The perfect death, maybe. If only Chuuya and Kunikida would die with him.

“Get off me, please,” Kunikida protests weakly. “We need to eat.”

“In a bit,” Chuuya promises. Dazai can’t see what happens next, but considering Kunikida’s argument dies right there, he assumes Chuuya pulled him into a kiss.

-

nikoran + teeth

Nikolai’s teeth are sharp.

This is something Ranpo has known since their first encounter, back when it was on accident and Ranpo chose to let them walk away instead of reporting their presence in Yokohama to the Agency. He’d licked his lips, stained blood-red, and asked Ranpo, “What would you do with me if you even managed to take me into custody?”

It was a fair question. Nikolai’s ability makes him nearly impossible to hold captive.

So Ranpo grinned back and promised to keep an eye on Nikolai themself.

Now, Nikolai’s teeth leave marks on Ranpo’s skin. Their throat, their shoulders, their thighs—anywhere Nikolai can reach; anywhere that can be easily hidden. Nikolai breaks the skin and sucks until it bruises and Ranpo fists their hands into his hair, but they never pull him away. They keep going back, and they keep bleeding beneath the tongue of a man who tried to kill their friends.

It keeps things interesting.

And once Nikolai is satisfied, Ranpo turns the tide and bites him back.

-

lucygin + “do you really think this will last?”

They’re on the roof of Gin’s apartment building, watching the summer sun set, when Lucy asks in a soft voice, “Do you really think this will last?”

Gin’s heart stutters in their chest.

It’s not something they like to think too hard about—they’ve found it’s easiest to survive if you focus only on the present. If you don’t plan ahead, nothing can be ruined by the cruel hand of fate stepping in and plucking away everything you love. You never know when your friends will die.

You never know when your brother’s lungs will finally give out.

Their eyes remain trained on the sky as they reply, “I don’t know. It is hard to expect anything will last when you grow up suffering constant loss.”

Lucy nods. “I don’t think I can even conceptualize the idea of permanence. It feels like a fairytale.”

Gin’s hand finds Lucy’s, and they weave their fingers together. It’s hard for them to imagine a kind future, where they are allowed to love someone who stays. But sometimes, what matters most is not whether or not a good thing will end, but rather the fact that it happened at all. Gin is grateful for Lucy, grateful to call her theirs for as long as she will allow.

Regardless of if it lasts or if they crash and burn tomorrow, Gin knows that they will cherish the time they’ve spent together for however long they live.