#i hate having to chase people down to pay their fucking invoices

[bucephaly]

Love opening for comms and posting abt it Everywhere where I usually post art and I just get 2 comms of the lowest possible tier and the person is taking 20 years to pay their invoice so I'm just fucking sitting here

[anubislover]

Welcome to the Heart Pirates, Nami-ya Chapter 7: Payback

Instinct kicking in, Nami lifted up her right leg, slamming the stiletto of her high heel down onto her assailant’s foot. The surprised yelp he let out and the loosening of his arm gave her the opening she needed to drive the sharp point of her elbow back into his diaphragm, winding him. As he gasped for air she finally had enough leeway to break from his hold, spinning around as her hand went for the Clima-Tact strapped to her right thigh, ready to fight.

Another scream attempted to crawl up her throat as her mystery attacker was revealed, this time out of irritation. “Law! You creepy bastard; are you trying to get yourself killed?!”

Rubbing the soft, sensitive spot beneath his ribs where her elbow had made contact, he chuckled breathlessly. “Please, like someone like you could kill me.”

“Why did you even do that?”

“I felt like it.”

A frustrated vein popped out of her forehead, but at least her hand fell away from her weapon. If any of her crew had tried a stunt like that, they’d be nursing a concussion and probably some electric shocks. Law was lucky she still feared him enough to keep her temper in check. “If you don’t give me a better reason than that I’m gonna prove I can kill you, you asshole.”

“Fine, it was payback for leaving me behind,” he stated, crossing his arms, an annoyed frown tugging on his lips. “You’re one hell of an actress, Nami-ya, and I applaud your quick thinking, but next time, try to come up with an exit strategy that involves both of us; I had to set a curtain on fire then teleport myself out the window in the confusion.”

Scoffing, she cocked an eyebrow in disbelief. “A curtain? I counted at least four separate fires in there.”

He shrugged. “I only accept blame for one. Harpin really shouldn’t set up candelabras near flammable materials and clumsy, easily riled up guests. It’s just lucky White Chase was on hand to act as a living fire extinguisher.” Piercing eyes softened fractionally as they landed on her injured shoulder, the streaks of dried blood a stark contrast against her ivory skin. “Let me look at that.”

Nami tried to wave him off as he caged her against the wall, insistently tugging down the sleeve of her dress to study the shallow cuts. “I’m fine!” she squeaked, pushing against his chest futilely. What was with this guy and invading her personal space?

“As your doctor and captain, I insist.” The smooth leather of his gloved fingers gently prodded the crescent gashes, his frown lessening when he saw they’d already begun to clot. With a curt nod he said, “I’ll clean these up when we’re back on the ship; she missed the artery, so they’re hardly life-threatening, but if they get infected, I’ll tear that bitch’s head off.”

The violence in his tone should not have sent such a pleasant shiver down her spine. “I think we should just send her your medical invoice and the dry-cleaning bill; heart attacks are less messy.”

His lip curled up into the familiar, cocky smirk. “That is the sexiest thing you’ve ever said to me,” he purred, leaning his forearm against the wall above her head so he could loom over her. It was times like these that she really hated that he always wore boots with heels; what right did a six-foot-three lanky bastard like him have to wear shoes that made him even taller? It practically negated the three extra inches her own heels gave her.

On her post-mission shopping spree she was going to buy the tallest pair of platform heels she could find.

Arching her neck like a swan so she could meet his eyes, she quipped, “Thank you for reminding me just how creepy you are; I was almost starting to forget.”

The heavy stench of burning fabric and the frantic shouts of the party guests were muffled in the little side hallway, but still strong enough to nearly mask the sound of a pair of heavy footsteps tromping in their direction. Had Nami’s senses not been on high alert due to the adrenaline pumping through her veins, she might have missed them along with the tell-tale scent of cigars.

“Shit, Smoker’s coming!” she whispered harshly, eyes wider than a Jolly Roger’s.

He cocked his head to the side, listening. “Sounds like it.”

“What do we do?” The easy answer would be to sneak through the servant’s door behind them, but there was too much of a risk that the Marine could catch the movement of the fluttering curtain or hear the slam of the door and investigate; then they’d look even more suspicious, sneaking into hidden areas like a couple of crooks.

Law seemed to have come to a similar conclusion, as well as developed a plan in the span of two seconds. She just wished he’d taken the time to clue her in before capturing her lips with his and pulling her curvy figure tightly against him in an amorous embrace. At first, Nami stiffened, instinct telling her to slam her knee into his crotch for being stupid enough to make a move on her at a time like this, but as the heavy footsteps stomped closer, she figured it out and gave as good as she got, tilting her head to allow Law better access and wrapping her arms around his neck, only squeaking slightly when he hoisted up one of her long legs to hook over his narrow hip.

The ballroom kiss had been tempting, but this one set her body on fire. Maybe it was the adrenaline from the thrill of being caught, but her flesh seemed oversensitive, the soft fabric of her dress brushing her skin juxtaposed with the harsh feeling of one large hand massaging her thigh while the other fisted her hair sending delightful shocks down her spine. Pressed against the wall, his body heat permeating through their clothes, dirty fantasies began to fill her head. She imagined him slowly sliding down her body, leaving teasing kisses in his wake, before dropping fully to his knees, ripping open her gown, and burying his head between her thighs.

The mental image, combined with Law’s tongue sensually prodding the seam of her mouth, made her thighs clench, the leg around his waist unconsciously drawing him closer. An involuntary moan escaped her throat just as the loud footsteps halted, the sickly-sweet scent of tobacco filling the air.

“The fuck do you two think you’re doing?”

Law was the one to break the kiss, turning his head just enough to glare at Smoker over his shoulder, the raven mask’s stern design making it that much fiercer. “Making up after a fight,” he panted, and the annoyance in his tone didn’t sound fake, as if he was genuinely displeased with the interruption.

If it had been a false alarm and Smoker hadn’t walked in on them, would Law have continued kissing her? Forced his tongue past her plush lips in a quest to discover what she tasted like? Tested his luck and slid his hand higher up her thigh? Would she have even tried to stop him?

White puffs of smoke drifted towards the ceiling as the Marine stared them down with disdain. “Yeah? Well maybe you should save that shit for the bedroom; makes me less likely to arrest you for public indecency.”

Nami’s face went bright red beneath her cat mask; had they really been that bad or was Smoker just a prude? Given how the right shoulder of her dress was hanging dangerously low and her entire left leg was exposed, cradling Law’s pelvis flush to her own, she was inclined to believe the former. “We’re really sorry,” she mumbled shyly, gently pushing Law away. He seemed reluctant to vacate his place in her arms, but after a slightly more insistent shove—along with a light kick to the back of his thigh—he finally dropped her leg, the hand in her wig sliding down to rest between her shoulders so she could safely regain her footing. Forcing tears to her eyes, she sobbed dramatically, “It’s just been such an awful night, and I was upset; that terrible old woman said so many horrid things to me…”

Slipping back into his role as the caring boyfriend, Law cradled her head to his chest. “Shhh. It’s ok, sweetheart. I know you’d never lead a man on, and you’re a hundred times classier than anyone in that room. And I’m sorry I got so angry; it’s just seeing that bitch hurt you—”

“You’re hurt?” Smoker cut in, concerned. “How bad?”

Pulling away, Law indicated the streaks of blood, mouth set in a sour frown. “Lady Beatrix must have knives on her fingers instead of nail extensions.”

“You need medical assistance? We could probably ask a servant if they’ve got any bandages.”

He shook his head. “I’m a doctor, and I’ve got a first aid kit back on the ship. They’re not deep, but I’d rather treat her myself than risk an underpaid servant messing it up.”

“Then I’d be happy to help you press assault charges.”

“Tempting, but I get the feeling the Harpins have enough money and connections to get it swept under the rug, nor do I trust them not to pay off the other guests to say I assaulted her.”

Peeking over her shoulder, Nami could see Smoker’s teeth grinding against the filter of his cigar in agitation. “Unfortunately, you’re right; I’m actually out here because Harpin bitched at me to track down the guy who hit his sister.”

“I swear I did nothing more than restrain her; she was the one who tried to hit me.”

“Oh, I believe you; that crazy bitch has tried to claw my eyes out once or twice.” He chuckled a bit, tapping the ashes of his cigar onto the marble floor. “She claims we’re all common street trash, but the second she gets pissed off, she fights like a gutter rat. So, what do you wanna do, Dr. Goodheart?”

The pair tensed. “You know my name?”

“Hina said you were the guy who helped her avoid Harpin while I was out hittin’ the head.” His eyebrow raised slightly, not missing their reaction. It wasn’t unusual; most people, even good, honest citizens, would be wary of an authority figure so easily identifying them. Still, Nami could see in his eyes that he was sizing them up, trying to place their faces to any of the hundreds of wanted posters he glared at every day.

“Of course,” Law replied, carefully keeping relief from bleeding into his voice. “Well, I’m sure you understand that I’m reluctant to let myself get arrested, especially for something I didn’t even do.”

“Mister Smoker, I know we caused a bit of a scene in there, but please don’t tell anyone you saw us,” Nami pleaded, chestnut eyes wide and frightened. Pulling away from her partner, she clasped her hands together beseechingly. “I promise neither of us meant any harm, and I just want to go home.”

The pirate hunter’s frown deepened. “Yeah, I can relate.” He sighed. “Look, technically, I should still be bringing you in since she wants to press charges but making sure nobody got hurt from that fire is way higher up on my list of priorities. So, since you did Hina a solid and Beatrix is a crazy bitch, I’m gonna pretend that I found a different couple making out in the hallway and head back. If I see Harpin or his shit family coming this way, I’ll try to hold them off. You kids get the hell out of dodge in the meantime.”

“Oh, thank you, Smoker-kun! You really are the hero everyone claims!”

Did she imagine it, or was there a faint splash of pink across his cheeks? It was hard to tell in the dim light. “Yeah, yeah. Just save any further ‘making up’ for when you’re not in public; I’m not covering for your asses a second time because you couldn’t control your damn hormones.”

With that, he spun on his heel and marched down the hall, not even sparing them a glance as he turned to head back to the ballroom. Nami was honestly surprised he’d let them go; maybe it was because he didn’t realize they were pirates, or he just hated Harpin that much. Either way, she was grateful he was willing to turn a blind eye just this once.

The second Smoker was out of sight, a blue aura surrounded them, and in the time it took to blink, they were halfway up a flight of narrow, creaky stairs. Glancing up at Law questioningly, he indicated the door at the bottom. “Took us through the servant’s entrance. Let’s get to the fourth floor; there’s a storage closet near the top where we can stash your dress. I need you light on your feet, not weighed down by wallets.”

“You’d better retrieve it before we get out,” she said firmly, poking his chest, “otherwise I’m charging you for my lost profits, plus 500% interest.”

He rolled his eyes before easily jogging up the stairs, his long legs letting him take the steps two at a time. Carefully gathering up the hem of her gown, Nami followed, scowling at his rudeness; she was shorter than him and wearing high heels, so shouldn’t he be more accommodating to her pace? It was a small but stark reminder that he was a pirate, not the gentleman he’d been pretending to be all evening.

Of course, their interaction in the hall had already done that; even if it was just an act, polite, well-bred gentlemen didn’t kiss like Trafalgar Law.

The door into the mansion’s fourth floor foyer was silent as he carefully nudged it open, the hinges well-oiled to prevent any noise from potentially disturbing the master of the house. Servants were supposed to be practically invisible until called for, able to pop out at a moment’s notice without so much as a sound. The closet was right beside the servant’s entrance, out of the way and easily ignored, perfect for hiding a Cat Thief’s contraband in.

Law quickly checked his watch. “Six minutes before showtime. Once the first distraction hits, make a beeline to the study. We’ll have to be quick; since White Chase and Black Cage didn’t take my advice to leave early, they’ll probably go after the crew. Ikkaku’s team might be able to draw their attention towards the mansion’s docks with their little surprise, but I’d like to avoid as much bloodshed on our side as possible.”

Not liking the idea of her new friends having to take on such dangerous Marines by themselves, Nami didn’t complain about being ordered around, merely slipping inside. A pull to the string hanging from the ceiling cast the closet in a dim glow, revealing an assortment of cleaning supplies, bedding, and a row of neatly pressed, copper maid uniforms, complete with headpiece, apron, and opaque tights. “I’m kind of surprised you didn’t have us sneak in dressed as servants,” she observed, glancing around.

The door closed behind her, and she stiffened as she heard Law’s voice whisper in her ear, “I considered it, but as much as I’d love to see you in a skimpy uniform, I don’t have the best track record with maids.”

Though startled at his closeness, she wasn’t surprised; logically, it was better to hide out with her instead of lingering outside where he might draw attention, and she was beginning to get used to his disregard for her personal space. Turning to face him, she raised a curious eyebrow. “Aw, does someone have a jilted lover?” she asked with a teasing smirk. “Some innocent maid you seduced and left with a broken heart?”

He scoffed, leaning against the door. The storage closet was decent-sized, though with the bedding and clothes taking up most of the space it felt cramped, especially for a man as tall as Law. “Childhood acquaintance at best, and I’m pretty sure she’d try to kill me if we ever saw each other again.”

“Well, I mean, who wouldn’t?”

“Then it’s a good thing my powers can get me out of trouble.”

Realization dawned on her, causing Nami to scowl and smack his shoulder. “Wait, you could have teleported us through the door before Smoker saw us, couldn’t you?”

His too-wide grin returned to his face, the skin around his eyes crinkling. “Possibly.”

“Then why didn’t you?!”

Chuckling, he stepped forward, caging her against the wall. Nami was beginning to think it was his default move for throwing her off-balance, and worst of all, it kept working. “Because I changed my mind; that was my payback for leaving me to figure out my own escape. It works out in our favor, though, since White Chase will have no reason to suspect we were involved when shit goes down,” he stated, hand absently brushing the batons strapped to her right thigh. Automatically, the thief’s hand smacked it away, but her back stiffened as he whispered, “Besides, you could have used your Clima-Tact to hide us—I think you were just looking for an excuse to make out.”

“Like hell I was!” she snapped, embarrassed. God, she hadn’t even thought about using her Mirage Tempo, too overwhelmed to even think straight. As much as she hated to admit it, Law’s quick thinking really had saved their asses, though it didn’t excuse his choice to kiss her instead of using his powers.

A strong hand quickly slapped over her kiss-bruised mouth. “Quiet, Nami-ya,” he murmured. “Or are you hoping to draw attention so I’ll have to kiss you again?”

When all she could do was let out a couple angry grunts in response, he laughed lowly.

I swear, he gets off on being a smug bastard, she thought sourly, russet eyes glaring daggers into his self-satisfied expression. Out of spite, she tried to bite his palm as punishment for manhandling her, but the smooth leather protected the delicate skin.

Despite not managing to hurt him, Law clearly felt her attempt. “Careful, sweetheart; I don’t mind a little biting, but I pay back with interest.”

Nami stiffened when she felt his molten breath against the exposed skin of her uninjured shoulder. His grey eyes homed in on the taut tendons of her neck, like a vampire in one of those raunchy paperbacks she’d secretly bribe Robin to get for her. The color might have been a dramatic change, but the intensity was all too familiar at this point. Before she could so much as try to squirm away, his long arm wrapped around her waist, pinning her arms to her sides. Quick and silent as an owl, he swooped in, latching his mouth onto the exposed flesh right above her thundering pulse.

Any sounds of protest were muffled by his hand, and though she tried to struggle, the close quarters of the closet mixed with his unyielding grasp made it next to impossible to maneuver about. The hand clamped over her mouth bent her head to the side, presenting him the full expanse of her tantalizing skin.

Worst of all, the feeling of his hot mouth against her pale throat was incredibly arousing. The man didn’t settle for just kissing or sucking—he bit, licked, and lavished the spot with a single-minded purpose. It was a perfect storm of sensation; the sharp sting of his teeth was immediately followed by the soothing stroke of his tongue. Firm sucks countered by delicate caresses from his lips. Nami’s sounds of protest gradually trailed off, and she had to bite down on her own lip to keep him from knowing they’d turned into sighs of pleasure. She really hoped he didn’t notice the way her knees started to tremble slightly every time he gave a particularly sharp nip. A low fire burned in her belly and her body cried out for him to bless other parts of her with his delicious attention.

He didn’t let up for at least a full three minutes, taking his time and savoring the way her fading struggles rubbed her soft breasts against his chest. When he finally released the flesh with a slick pop, followed by one last sensual sweep of his tongue, he paused a moment to admire his handywork before dropping his arms.

Pleasure clouding her brain and chest heaving, it took Nami an embarrassingly long time to regain her senses. When she did, though, her glower could have frozen whiskey. “And what the fuck was that for?”

“As always, payback. Your little mikan juice prank left an embarrassing mark on me, so this only seems fair.”

She didn’t need to see her reflection to know there was an unmistakable hickey on the side of her neck, and given how much effort he’d put in, the color likely complimented her tourmaline jewelry. “How the hell am I supposed to cover this?” All her shirts were low-cut, and if it was a bad as she assumed, even caking on her foundation wouldn’t completely do the job.

His expression was completely unsympathetic. “How the hell was I supposed to cover my sunburn? I guess you’ll just have to deal.”

“You are such an asshole!”

He chuckled but didn’t argue, hands straying down to her belt, easily undoing the black jeweled buckle.

She nearly shrieked as she batted his hands away, shoving him back with all her might. “Now what the hell do you think you’re doing?” The kiss and hickey had been one thing, but there was no way in hell she was going to stand by and let him strip her down.

“Helping you out of this dress so we can start the actual mission.”

“I can undress myself!”

“If you insist,” he replied, taking a step back to lean against the wall, watching her intently.

His heady gaze brought a hot flush to her cheeks. “Turn around!”

“You’re hardly naked under that dress, Nami-ya, and I’ve seen you in less. What are you so embarrassed about?”

“I’m not embarrassed; I just don’t need you ogling me like a pervert.”

“You don’t like me looking at you, yet you’ll shamelessly straddle me and use the pretense of putting on sunscreen to feel me up. Such an appalling double-standard.”

“You know I only did that to distract you from the sunburn!”

“So you finally admit you did it on purpose, eh?”

“You—!” she snarled before the house rocked, a deafening explosion echoing down the halls. Her legs shook as the sound made her ears ring, disorienting her briefly and making her nearly miss Law’s nonchalant comment.

“Ah, and there’s Shachi’s distraction,” Law said, glancing at his watch, face morphing into a serious frown. “Playtime’s over, then.” Bird skull cane in hand, he expanded his Room around her, murmuring “Scan” as he swept it to the side. Nami shrieked as her dress, wallets and all, vanished from her body and reappeared in Law’s waiting hand.

Without the billowy fabric of the gown she felt utterly exposed in her black bodysuit; the undergarment was little more than a bathing suit, its spaghetti straps, plunging neckline, and high leg holes designed to be virtually invisible beneath her dress and allow her unencumbered movement once they started sneaking around. Yet despite how incredibly sexy it was, hugging her curves and showing off a tempting amount of skin, Law looked at her with the same stoic, professional expression he’d worn in the infirmary.

After silently securing the gold gown onto an empty hanger, he pushed open the closet door, ushering her outside when he confirmed the coast was clear. “We have no time to waste; that explosion is sure to have attracted White Chase and Black Cage, and I don’t want my men fighting them any longer than necessary.”

Somehow, Nami felt more uncomfortable than if he’d been openly leering at her. How was it that he always seemed the most uninterested when she was wearing the fewest clothes? Was it just situational, or was there something about her naked skin that repulsed him? Perhaps he had some kind of weird fetish for fully dressed people, or he just enjoyed teasing her because he found her reactions amusing and not because he found her particularly attractive?

She knew this wasn’t the time to let insecurity cloud her mind, so she shoved her thoughts to the side, though she was certain they’d crash back down on her when she went to sleep that night. For now, she immersed herself in the burglar mindset, following Law into the hallway and toward the study six doors down.

Though hardly as large or grand as the ballroom, it was definitely the domain of a rich man. Mahogany furniture, Bookshelves that reached the ceiling, gold-framed paintings, crystal lamps, suits of armor, and massive windows dominated the room. What really drew the eye, though, was the solid gold statue of a giant squid even taller than Law, its massive tentacles arched as if waiting to grab its prey.

Mere feet from that, though, in the back-left corner of the room, was the Seastone safe. Lacking ornamentation and hardly larger than a bedside table it was as innocuous as it could get. Which, given the Baron’s tastes and the value of what was inside, meant it was clearly trapped.

Law once more used his Devil Fruit to Scan the room, snorting derisively. “Idiot hasn’t even changed the booby traps since I was here last. There’s a massive Seastone net that’ll fall from the ceiling if you step on the third row of tiles from the entrance. A pressure gage will drop a steel grate in front of the door if the safe is moved.” He pointed to a suit of armor much like Reginald’s costume that was positioned conspicuously close to the safe, a long halberd clutched loosely in its gauntlets. “There’s another pressure tile right in front of the safe; if you stand on it too long, that blade will bisect whoever’s standing there.”

“I’m surprised there aren’t more,” Nami replied, glancing around the room suspiciously.

“Oh, there are, but those are the ones you need to worry about. Your mission is getting that safe opened; I’ll deal with anything else that comes up.”

As much as she wanted to scowl as his brisk orders, she knew this wasn’t the time or place. Later, though, she had every intention of giving him a piece of her mind about how to talk to a thief volunteering her precious time to help steal classified Naval information.

She took special care to follow Law’s lead, watching for any out-of-place movements or tiles, not trusting that he hadn’t forgotten to tell her about another trap. When they were securely across the room, the Cat Thief carefully studied the safe; the main body was definitely made of Seastone, but what concerned her was the dial. It was common stainless steel, but it was a model she’d only seen prototypes for; instead of deciphering three numbers, the combination could be anywhere between four and fifteen numbers long. That meant it would take longer to unlock, and there was no way of knowing how long the sequence was except through trial and error.

“I know it’s Seastone, but can’t you teleport it out of here so we won’t have to worry about getting caught?” she asked nervously.

“I could, but I’m trying to avoid Harpin figuring out who robbed him. There are only so many Devil Fruit users who could avoid his traps and make a whole Seastone safe disappear, my name’s at the top of that list. Should we leave a calling card, too? Maybe ‘Trafalgar Law and Cat Thief Nami were here’ on parchment paper with gold calligraphy?”

“Fine, fine. Just a thought,” she grumbled, unstrapping the collapsible stethoscope she’d borrowed from the sub’s infirmary from her thigh. Without any clue to the combination, there was no other option than to listen to the little gears inside as she turned the dial and hope she got the correct amount of numbers. The trouble was it was slow, delicate work with no room for distractions, and with the pressure tile and potential noise the next explosion would inevitably cause, she was already on two separate timers.

A deep, steadying breath filled her lungs as she prepared to start, only for her eyes to drift over to where Law was studying the little plaque at the base of the squid statue, his face dark and hands clenched so hard she was surprised the leather across his knuckles didn’t split.

Curious, she peeked over his shoulder to read aloud, “‘Thanks for everything, Harp! Love, Doflamingo.’” Her eyes widened in horror and shock. Of course she’d heard that name, along with several blood-curdling stories that ensured she’d never willingly cross his path. “Donquixote Doflamingo? The shichibukai? What’d Harpin do to earn a solid gold statue from that guy?”

“Nothing good, that’s for sure,” he ground out through his teeth, eyes locked on the name as if trying to set it on fire.

“And why’s it a squid?”

“Who the fuck cares?” Law snapped, stalking away from the statue towards the window. “You’re wasting time. The dock will explode in three minutes, and Penguin’s squad will set off their bombs six minutes after; if that safe’s not open by then, I’m going to have to assume your skills are limited to petty pickpocketing instead of real burglary.”

She bristled at the insult but forced herself to let it roll off her back. They were both stressed, nervous about the crew and getting caught and the potential for things going horribly wrong due to forces beyond their influence. Law in particular was a control-freak, used to his powers negating most obstacles he might face, while Nami had always had her nakama watching her back, ready get her out of any trouble she might find herself in. They were both in a situation they weren’t comfortable in, and the only way they were going to get through it was to stop going for each other’s throats and just get the job done.

“Just keep quiet so I can work,” she replied, getting back into position.

Glancing out the window into the mansion’s gardens below, Law’s eyes widened. “Fuck!” he hissed, drawing a thin, hidden sword out of his cane.

“What wrong?” she asked, panicked.

A swirl of energy formed in his hand as he prepared to activate his Room. “White Chase has Shachi’s group cornered. I count at least four injured, and the last three stand no chance against his powers.” He gave her a stern look. “Stay here and focus on cracking that safe. I need to see to my crew.”

“But—!”

Her protests were met only with empty air as blue energy engulfed him, teleporting him outside to aid his men.

“He’s supposed to be a pirate; why does he always seem to run off on me to play hero?” she grumbled, turning back to the safe. Still, if Smoker had already taken down half of Shachi’s team, they needed Law’s help way more than she did. She could only hope Hina was busy protecting the guests instead of hunting down the rest of the Heart Pirates.

Now without her backup and lookout, Nami knew she really had no time to waste. But she also had no one to warn her if Harpin was coming. No one to pull her out of the way if the pressure trap sprang. What she did have was a lock that took potentially five times longer than normal. She started to quake in fear as she realized Law hadn’t specified how long it took before for the pressure trap to activate; just that it was on a timer. Glancing up, the razor-sharp blade of the long axe glinted menacingly in the light, angled just so that it would slice straight through her skull when activated. She had half a mind to remove it, but that might waste even more time.

Tense and terrified, she pressed the stethoscope to the safe door and carefully began turning the dial, anxiously listening for those telltale cues that she’d gotten the right combination.

Eight…seventy-two…forty…ninety-six…fifty-six…twenty-four. On the first attempt the door remained firmly shut. Either the slight tremor in her hands had messed her up just enough, or she hadn’t gotten the full combination.

Ok, let’s try again. Eight…seventy-two…for— The second try, she was distracted by the distant sound of an explosion; Ikkaku’s team had struck. It hadn’t been nearly as loud as the first explosion, but it completely threw her off, jumbling her already whirring mind making her hand jerk the delicate dial too far.

Frustration made her cheeks flush. She knew it wasn’t the crew’s fault—they were just following orders—but did Law have to come up with a plan where bombs would go off during the time she needed to focus the most? And couldn’t he have come up with a better distraction than loud, floor-shaking explosions? As if the blood bounding in her ears wasn’t deafening enough!

Halfway through the third attempt—which was already going badly because her hands were shaking to the point she was certain she’d fucked up the first turn—she scampered away from the safe, certain that she’d seen the halberd’s shadow move and that she’d activated the trap. Looking up fearfully, she realized it was just her mind playing tricks on her, as the blade didn’t so much as twitch.

Nerves on edge, she knew she needed to calm down before she could try again. Standing up and crossing the room, she peeked out into the hallway, hoping that doing so would give the pressure tile a chance to reset while making sure no one would stumble across a sexy thief in a skimpy black bodysuit. The coast was clear, but she didn’t feel any more secure. Part of her even wished someone was coming so she’d have an excuse to give up, or at least hide until she’d fully calmed down. But she knew if Law did come back and found she’d given up, he’d be furious, and his men would have gotten hurt for nothing.

This would be so much easier if I at least knew how long the combination was, she groused, pacing and wringing her hands fretfully. She was halfway tempted to look out the window and check on the battle below, but she knew that if she saw things weren’t going well her panic attack would get even worse.

I should just cut my losses and run. Those books can’t be worth all of this, Nami thought, heart vibrating like a hummingbird against her ribcage. Why’s Law counting on me so much for this? How does he know I won’t screw up and get captured? And if I do get caught, there’s no way he’d risk rescuing me; I’m not even part of his crew! What kind of moron puts such blind faith in someone like me? What do I do?! What do I—

A voice in her heart that sounded oddly like Luffy replied, Quit screaming your head off. You’re a nakama of the future Pirate King. Don’t make that pathetic face.

Unbidden, a smile came to her lips, her terrified, cowardly thoughts dissolving like sugar in hot tea. Luffy was the kind of moron who had blind faith in her. Had since they met, even after she turned him over to Buggy. That plan had put him in a far more dangerous position than she was in with Law’s, and yet he still asked her to be his navigator. In Cocoyashi, he refused to believe her heartless witch act and freed her from Arlong, declaring her his nakama. Back on Skypiea, her captain had told her to quit being a coward and live up to her position as a member of his crew. He’d even entrusted his treasured hat to her. He’d never do that if he didn’t believe in her ability to keep it safe, to still be there when he finished his battle. And she wouldn’t have stayed by his side, risking life and limb, if she didn’t believe in his ability to beat the odds and come out on top.

Luffy would be Pirate King someday because he had faith in both his crew and his own abilities. Shouldn’t she do the same?

Determination swept through her and she watched her hands lose their tremor. She was a scaredy-cat, but she always came through when her crew needed her. How could she be expected to aid her nakama in the New World if she couldn’t rob one little safe for the Heart Pirates? She was the Straw Hat navigator and master thief, and nothing would stop her.

A chance glance at the octopus facade cared into the dark wood of Harpin’s desk nearly made her slap herself even as a laugh bubbled up in her throat. The Baron was obsessed with octopi. The Navy called him “The Golden Octopus.” On her first attempt at cracking the safe, she’d only gone up to six rotations, but now she could see the pattern.

The answer was painfully obvious; the safe’s combination was eight numbers long, all multiples of eight.

Ok, Nami, you know what to do, and you need to make this one count, she thought, cracking her knuckles as she crouched in front of the safe. Once more steady as a surgeon’s, her hand confidently took hold of the dial. Get it open this time and you can get the hell out of here; you can grab your dress, let Law know you’ve got the stupid information, and he can teleport the crew back to the sub before anyone else gets hurt.

Blocking out every sound save the delicate mechanisms inside the safe, the dial glided easily back and forth, each tiny click ringing through her heart like Skypiea’s golden bell.

Eight. Seventy-two. Forty. Ninety-six. Fifty-six. Twenty-four. Sixteen. Eighty-eight.

Upon the eighth turn she halted, gently tugging on the safe’s handle, the door opening as smoothly as Zoro’s sword sliced through the air.

Reverently, she removed her prize, kicking the door shut and shuffling back to the base of the suit of armor as a precaution. In her hands weren’t files like she’d expected, but three black, leather-bound ledgers, each embossed with raised gold letters on the cover.

The first one was titled “Intel,” and curious to know what secrets the Navy might have entrusted to the likes of the Baron, she decided to sneak a little peek. Opening to a random page her eyes widened at what she saw, and she quickly scanned through other sections, growing more and more concerned. Even at a glance, she could tell every page contained sensitive information; coordinates of secret bases, copies of un-redacted mission reports, scientific research signed by Dr. Vegapunk, formulas for chemical weapons, and even a detailed diagram of the Pacifista robot. Most of it was older information that a former Marine Intelligence officer would have easily been able to come by, but some of this stuff was from as recent as last week!

Reginald said Harpin was basically forced to retire, Nami thought as she opened the second ledger, this one more innocently titled “Personal,” but it looks like that hasn’t stopped him from gathering information. Why, though? What could he possibly need it for?

Based on the label, she’d expected it to be full of the Baron’s own information, like finances and family secrets, but instead it was personal information on various World Government officials, Marines, and royal families. There were dossiers on the likes of Smoker, Hina, Kizaru, Akoji, Wapol, King Sterry, King Cobra, and so many others, and it included family trees and notable accomplishments, along with damning photos, eyewitness accounts of indiscretions, reports of war crimes, and notes on potential ways their connections or powers could be used to Harpin’s advantage. In other words, it was pure blackmail.

As damning as the first two books were, it was the third that made her shiver. In simple gold letters, the word “Shichibukai” gleamed up at her. Cracking it open, she cautiously thumbed through the pages, swallowing hard when she realized it was full of dossiers just as detailed as the last ledger’s, only this time solely dedicated to past, present, and even potential Warlords and their crews. Sir Crocodile, Kuma, Boa Hancock, Doflamingo, even Ace and Blackbeard were given extensive profiles that appeared frequently revised and updated.

Her fingers paused on a familiar name, the image of a stern, whale shark Fishman’s face glaring up at her.

“Knight of the Sea” Jinbei.

It was a name she’d heard at Arlong Park.

“Here’s your food, human,” Hatchan sneered, tossing a plate of Takoyaki onto her desk. Plenty of the crew liked to take out their tempers on her when they thought they could get away with it, and though arguably the least aggressive, Nami knew not to mess with the six-armed swordsman when he was in a bad mood. “Too good for the likes of you, but nobody else wanted them and I didn’t feel like wasting time cooking anything else.”

The insult washed over Nami like a gentle wave; after two years trapped in Arlong Park she was used to it, and she was just grateful they deigned to feed her at all. When they’d first set her up in her horrible chart room, they hadn’t cared whether or not she was given proper food until she had passed out from hunger. It was only then that Arlong had decreed she needed to be fed at least once a day, and that job was typically treated as punishment among the Fishmen.

Famished, she popped one of the fried balls into her mouth, eyes widening in surprise at the taste. “Th-these are really good!” she said, eagerly swallowing it down and reaching for another.

Hatchan’s expression was just as stunned. “Really? You like them?” he asked excitedly, two pairs of hands clasped together in joy.

“Yeah, they’re great!” Ordinarily, the very idea of complimenting one of the monsters that had enslaved her would have been sickening, but she was too hungry to care. And they really were delicious. Way better than the cold porridge or burnt meat she usually got.

He seemed unusually pleased, crossing his arms and grinning proudly. “Well, I guess even a human can have good taste. If I hadn’t become a pirate, I’d have opened up my very own Takoyaki stand on the Grand Line.”

“Why didn’t you?” she asked through a mouthful of fish. The young cartographer didn’t really care, but the longer she kept him talking, the more time she had to give her cracked and bleeding hands a break from the hours of mapmaking.

He sighed. “Just about everyone thought an octopus selling Takoyaki was ridiculous. It would have been hard to stay in business back home, and not a lot of other places would accept a Fishman setting up shop. Jinbei always encouraged me to follow my dream, but I’d already promised Captain Arlong I’d help him achieve his.”

Jinbei. She’d heard that name before, usually when Arlong was drunk or in a bad mood, cursing it with more venom than a Man-of-War Jellyfish. Who was he? An old enemy? A bounty hunter? Someone strong enough to defeat the Fishman Pirates and save her village?

The saw-nosed captain was terrifyingly strong, but not invincible. Maybe she could contact this Jinbei person and hire him as an assassin? She’d slowly been saving up money to buy back Cocoyashi, but she’d happily give it all to anyone who could kill her mother’s murder. And Arlong had the highest bounty in the East Blue, so surely she could use that as further incentive; she’d pay what she could, and the government would handle the rest.

Adopting a look of wide-eyed innocence, Nami turned to fully face Hatchan, “I’ve heard Arlong mention someone named Jinbei before. Just in passing, though. Who is he?”

“Oh, he was one of our comrades when we were part of the Sun Pirates. If you think Kuroobi’s Fishman Karate is strong, Jinbei’s blows him out of the water! Even Arlong couldn’t beat him!”

“He sounds strong.” She’d never been particularly religious, but it was beginning to feel like God was finally cutting her a break. Her tearful prayers were being answered, and Jinbei was the savior she’d been waiting for.

“He is!” Hatchan said cheerfully, clearing away her empty plate. “Strong enough that the government made him one of the shichibukai! I’m glad he accepted; otherwise Captain Arlong would still be in Impel Down.”

Her hopeful heart stopped. “What?”

“Yeah, when they recruited Jinbei, his only request was that they release Arlong from prison,” he said as he strolled out the door. Popping his head back in, he gave her a jovial smile. “Sure, they had a bit of a falling out after, but I like to think they’ll make up someday; after all, they’re practically brothers!”

As the door locked behind him, the young girl didn’t even feel the sharp sting of the tip of her pen piercing her palm.

Jinbei. Jinbei the shichibukai. It was his fault. If it weren’t for him, Arlong would still be in Impel Down. He never would have set foot in Cocoyashi. Bellemere wouldn’t have died to save an ungrateful daughter. Nami never would have been taken prisoner, forced to draw maps in this horrible room while the rest of her village lived in fear.

She didn’t have a savior. Just another demon added to her personal Hell.

Blinking away tears, Nami forced herself back to the present. Later she could read up on the man who’d set lose the worst monster the East Blue had seen in decades. Right now, she needed to get out of there. Law and the Heart Pirates were still fighting outside, and she needed to let them know the mission was a success so they could make a break for it.

Her ears perked up as they caught the sound of a faint voice coming down the hall, angry and vaguely familiar.

“I don’t care how far away they are, Tokikake; I need a Navy fleet here right now! Those ungrateful peasants have finally snapped and decided to set up bombs all over my property!”

The Baron was on his way to the study and there was no way she’d be able to get out unnoticed. Wasting no time Nami ducked behind the suit of armor and pulled out her Clima-Tact to quickly cast her Mirage Tempo, rendering herself invisible just as Harpin stormed through the door, mini Den Den Mushi in hand, obese face bright red with rage.

As much as she didn’t want to be in the same room as their slimy host, it was honestly better to sit still and wait for the opportune moment. Even if he’d primarily had a desk job, and even if he was in his seventies, it was safer not to underestimate him. Plus, if he was really calling for backup, she’d rather know what to expect and where they were coming from. Would the Navy send Kizaru or Aokiji? Did they really believe it was the poor, starving villagers attacking the mansion, or were they speaking in code?

The radio snail’s face was unimpressed. Nami didn’t recognize the dark brown fedora and cigarette between its teeth, but she let out a silent sigh of relief when it replied, “Harpin, if the townspeople are revolting against you—which honestly, I wouldn’t blame them—Hina and Smoker should be able to settle things. I’m not risking civilian casualties.”

“My mansion is currently filled with the crème de la crème of society! Their safety is far more important than those filthy peons!”

“All the more reason to not order a Buster Call,” the snail replied, and Nami barely managed to stifle a gasp. Was Harpin insane? He’d risk innocent lives over what he assumed was a rebellion from farmers and fishermen? “So, since that’s out of the question, why don’t you use that big brain of yours and come up with a better solution? Maybe try reasoning with them. Pay them off, even. Isn’t throwing money at the problem your normal go-to?”

Harpin sneered. “I haven’t given those fishmongers a single belli in nearly three years, and I’m not going to start now! They’re lucky I even let them live on my island! Now you get me that fleet—”

“Kkkkk—sorry—kkk—breaking up—kkkkkkkk,” the vice-admiral said, faking static.

“Tokikake, don’t you dare hang up on me! If you do, I’ll—”

“In case you’ve forgotten, Gorudotako, I’m not scared of blackmail. The worst you’ve got on me is that time you caught me golfing when I said I was visiting my mother, and I think the higher-ups would be more interested in what you were doing there; wasn’t that the weekend you were supposed to be visiting Impel Down? Considering Straw Hat’s miraculous break in-and-out two years later, I wouldn’t be surprised if Akainu starts assuming you were in on it. That whole mess at Marineford really pissed him off, and he’s been looking to melt anyone who might have been even vaguely involved.”

Speechless, all the Baron could do was make faint protesting noises, rightfully terrified of the Admiral’s fiery wrath. From where she was hiding, Nami could see thick, greasy beads of sweat dribble down the back of his head.

The Vice-Admiral gleefully continued, “On top of that, since your ‘retirement,’ certain information seems to be finding its way to ‘Big News’ Morgans and other underworld types who really have no business knowing. Now, I’m not one to toss out accusations, but leaking classified information, especially for profit, is a serious crime. One certain parties are considering investigating you for.”

“You dare to question my reputation?!” Harpin demanded, slamming his hand down on the desk barely an inch from the Den Den Mushi.

The snail’s grinning face didn’t even flinch. “Buddy, your reputation is a joke. When you left, we got over a hundred reports of sexual harassment by your former female subordinates in the first month. That alone warrants investigation. Hell, we only waited so long because there’s been so much damn paperwork to go through and Tsuru wanted the case against you to be airtight. Then those rumors about certain documents getting leaked came out…”

“You’re not going to find a damn thing!”

“Funny, I would have thought an innocent man would say there’s nothing to find.” Satisfied with getting in the last word, Tokikake hung up, the Den Den Mushi immediately falling asleep.

For a moment, the room was dead silent, Harpin staring blankly at the sleeping snail, mouth gaping open and closed like a fish that had been hooked through the gills. Just as Nami thought she might be able to use his catatonic shock as an opportunity to sneak out, his expression changed into a mask of rage, grabbing the mahogany armchair by the desk and flinging it into the wall beside the knight’s armor with enough force to splinter the tough wood.

Startled, Nami shrieked, dropping the ledgers to shield her face from wayward splinters. Unfortunately, such a distraction caused her illusion to drop, revealing the sneaky thief.

Not expecting company, Harpin whirled towards the woman, anger and suspicion melting away as his gaze swept over her curvy figure wrapped up in a tight, revealing bodysuit in clear appreciation. She suddenly missed Law’s professional, disinterested gaze, insulting as it had been.

It was only when watery eyes reached her leopard mask that they widened in recognition. “Wait…you’re the harlot who insulted my nephew! What are you doing in my study?”

Thinking quickly, Nami decided her best option was to use his obvious love of women to her advantage. Hips swaying sensually, she strolled up to the desk like a runway model, biting the tip of her finger coyly. “I’m really sorry about that; I didn’t mean to hurt his feelings, but he’s just not my type.” Leaning against the desk, she arched her back and thrust out her voluptuous chest, fluttering her long eyelashes for extra measure. “Why would I go for a scrawny little peacock when I could have the strong, sensual arms of an octopus around me?”

Though she nearly gagged just saying them, her words did the trick, Harpin’s temper immediately dropping to be replaced by smug satisfaction. He was definitely related to Kujakumaru, as he spoke directly to her cleavage. “Well, I suppose I can’t fault you for having such high standards. The boy is dear to me, but he does rather pale in comparison, doesn’t he?”

“Like a rock next to a diamond,” she cooed, hooking his chin with her index finger to make sure his eyes stayed on her instead of straying the spot next to safe where she’d been hiding, the black ledgers still conspicuously laying on the floor.

“Oh, I’d say more like coal,” he replied, shuffling closer, his hand boldly landing on her upper thigh, fingers groping the firm flesh. It was almost the exact same spot Law had touched when they kissed, but this wasn’t nearly as pleasant. “He has the potential to become a diamond with the right conditions, but for now he’s best at providing warmth to lucky ladies.”

“You’re so poetic! Smart men are just so sexy.” Unable to come up with another compliment due to the sheer disgust at his touch, she changed the subject. “I’m curious, Baron Harpin; why do you love octopuses so much?” she asked as if she didn’t already know.

“It’s octopi, actually,” he said condescendingly before puffing out his chest with pride. “In the Navy, I was touted as ‘The Golden Octopus.’ Impressive, no?”

“Extremely! How’d you get a name like that? Octopi are so slimy, and you’re anything but!” she giggled, dislodging his hand so she could sit on top of the desk. When he started to frown at the loss of flesh to grope, she distracted him by twirling one of his greasy braids around her finger, even as she gaged whether or not she could distract him long enough to knock him out with an electric shock.

Pleased with her flirting and the fact that her new position brought her cleavage even closer to his gaze, he crowed, “It’s because of my long reach and exceptional brilliance! Octopi are some of the smartest creatures in existence, after all. The World Government specifically made me the head of Intelligence because I could get anything from anywhere at any time. I had dozens of informants in kingdoms across the Grand Line, the underworld, and even in other Navy divisions. There was no rumor or piece of information that didn’t go through me. My mind was the World Government’s greatest asset; no average man could handle keeping track of so many secrets or make use of such extensive contacts.”

“Wow,” she replied, proud of herself for keeping the sarcasm out of her voice. When his hand once more drifted towards her thigh, she instinctively caught it. She could see the annoyance at her small rejection darken his face, so thinking quickly she took the hand in both of hers, fluttering the faintest kiss across his knuckles. Looking deeply into his eyes, she cooed, “You must be one of the smartest men in the world! How could the Navy ever have let you retire? They should have begged you to stay.”

“They should have!” he groused. “Instead my enemies conspired to unseat me, threatened by my revolutionary way of thinking. Did you know it was I who first proposed the shichibukai system?”

“You were?” Now that was a legitimate shocker, though it explained why he had a whole ledger dedicated to them.

“Of course! The World Government might not want to admit it, but there will always be pirates in the world. So long as there are laws, there will be those who seek to break them. So, why not ally with exceptionally strong pirates to cull the herd?” he cooed, free hand trailing a sausage-like finger along her cheek.

“Why, that is clever!” she said breathlessly, even as she seethed. From Jinbei to Crocodile to Blackbeard, the shichibukai system was one that just kept causing trouble. The World Government claimed it controlled them, but really, it just made them even more dangerous. If this guy really was the one who put such a broken system in place, she was going to make sure he got what was coming to him.

“Profitable, too! The best pirate warlords understood that our relationship was a business arrangement; they get immunity, while we get a cut of their treasure. Why, the Doflamingo Pirates even sent me a lovely retirement gift,” he crowed, proudly pointing towards squid statue.

“But that’s not an octopus,” she said, genuinely confused.

He scowled, good mood evaporating. “Ah, yes, Doflamingo did that on purpose; he always loved teasing me for being called ‘Gorudotako’ when I was saddled with the Ika Ika no Mi.”

“…what?”

“Such a cruel trick of fate, to be saddled with the ignoble squid instead of the far superior octopus! The peons below me would mock me in the shadows for it; some even suggested cooking me up like calamari if we ever ran low on food! So I made sure to erase all evidence of my powers from the records and only use them on very special occasions.”

Without warning, Harpin’s arms began to morph into two long tentacles, his hands flattening out into club-like appendages covered in tiny suckers, while the side-seams of his suit split open as six additional, slightly smaller tentacles burst out. Black, watery eyes swelled wider, head stretching back into a hooded point to accommodate, and as his mouth opened, his teeth molded together to form a sharp beak that poked past saggy lips. His skin took on a sickly grey color, the texture smoothing out to something rubbery and inhuman.

The final result was so horrific Nami didn’t want to look directly at him, instead leaping off the desk to dodge the sticky tentacles that tried to grab her. Unlike Hatchan, who was cute in a comical way, the former Marine was more like something out of a horror writer’s seafood-induced nightmare. Each tentacle glistened and writhed as if it had a mind of its own and were lined with wicked-looking suckers.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t know who you are, Cat Thief Nami?” he gurgled, voice distorted as if he were speaking underwater. Honestly, she was surprised he could talk at all with the beak sticking out from between his lips. “I’ve stared at your wanted poster as much as any man; I’d recognize that sexy stare and tattoo!”

Crap, she thought, assembling her Clima-Tact. She needed to think fast if she wanted to get out of that room in one piece. Glancing at the ceiling, she created a small storm cloud, watching it slowly grow above them. “Dark Cloud Tempo!”

It was one of her stronger attacks, but she knew it needed time to properly charge before it would be enough to take down a Devil Fruit user, so she played for time by creating an assortment of copies with her Mirage Tempo.

“Ah, so many lovely visions to choose from; good thing I have an arm for each!” he laughed, sending out six tentacles to sweep across them. The writhing arms were quick and stretchy, almost like Luffy’s when he used his Gomu Gomu powers, though not nearly as versatile. Using her copies as distractions, Nami wove and dodged each strike, calculating russet eyes observing their movements, hoping to find a pattern or weakness she could use to her advantage.

Her copies didn’t last long, dissipating with a single blow, but she was pleased to find his reach was limited to about eight feet for the smaller arms and maybe eleven for the two clubbed primary tentacles. He may have had more arms than Luffy, but he certainly didn’t have the rubber boy’s reach.

The real Nami once more out in the open, Harpin charged forward, tentacles snapping out like javelins, crashing into the floor and breaking off little pieces of tile upon impact. “I was hoping I’d have the pleasure of meeting you, Nami-chan, and here you are! Was it my gold that that enticed you, or me?”

“Ew, don’t touch me, creep!” she cried. Jumping back, she launched a gust of wind, the powerful gust forcing him to keep away from her. So long as she kept her distance, she had an advantage, and she wasn’t going to give it up easily.

“You’re such a tease, Nami-chan. I thought you wanted my big, strong arms wrapped around you,” he cooed lewdly.

“Buddy, I’d rather sleep with an actual fish than you.” Glancing up at the black cloud, she smirked, forming a spark on the end of her batons. “And even if you were my type, I’d have to take a rain check. I’m forecasting thunderstorms this evening. Look out for lightning strikes! Thunder Bolt Tempo!”

Tossing the little ball of electricity up into the dark cloud, she practically cheered as it crackled and popped, a bolt of lightning crashing down onto the squid-man, kicking up smoke and cracking the marble tiles beneath him.

Certain that he was out of the game for at least a few minutes, Nami made a beeline for the door, praying that she could grab her dress before escaping down the servants’ entrance.

Luck was not on her side, though, as Harpin wasn’t incapacitated; just angry. “You bitch!” he snarled, patches of flesh sizzling horrifically, the stench ashy and putrid. Grabbing the mahogany desk, he heaved it against the wall by the door, cutting off Nami’s escape. “How dare you? As if insulting my nephew and threatening my sister weren’t enough, you have the gall to attack me?!”

Looking between Harpin and the shattered remains of what had been incredibly sturdy furniture, she desperately tried to think of a new plan. For an old, half-squid freak, he was tougher than he looked and not nearly as stupid as she’d hoped. “Hey, you’re the creep who can’t keep his ugly tentacles to himself! No means no!” she shouted, creating another electric ball.

“As if low-born trash like you has the right to refuse me!” he snapped, leaping into the air and blasting himself forward like a squid projected itself through the water. He cleared the room in a single burst, forcing Nami to launch herself to the side to avoid getting hit and decimating the distance that had kept her safe. Catching the thief off-balance, two of his arms lashed out, knocking her Clima-Tact away and wrapping tightly around her wrists. The blue batons rolled uselessly across the polished floor as their owner shrieked in pain and horror. Each sucker that latched onto her flesh was lined with a sharp, finely serrated ring of chitin. They didn’t cut deeply, but it was enough to make struggling painful. On top of that, they yanked her arms back so hard she was surprised they weren’t jerked out of their sockets.

Beautiful pirate at last in his grasp, Harpin stepped in closer, appreciating the gorgeous body in front of him as she kicked and writhed. “You really are as lovely as they say,” the Baron chuckled, the smooth back of one of his clubs stroking her face. It flipped around to rip the purple wig off her head, revealing her signature orange hair. “Maybe I won’t turn you in right away; I think I’ll have some fun with you, first.” Two more disturbingly clammy arms ran up her bare legs before forcefully pulling them apart, easily overcoming her attempts to fight back. The very tip of another curled just inside the fabric covering her left breast, tugging playfully. Distorted lips smirked around his beak. “I mean, you’re asking for it, running around in an outfit like that.”

Twisting helplessly, she knew there was no way she’d be able to fight him off without help. Before the mess on Sabaody, she’d pin her hopes on Luffy, Zoro, or Sanji rushing in to save her just in the nick of time, but her nakama was scattered across the Grand Line. Crying and begging for mercy was no good, as her best-case scenario involved being turned over to the Marines, while just the thought of the worst-case made bile burn in the back of her throat.

Without her crew, her only choice was to stall until Law came back, assuming Smoker hadn’t captured him. Or worse, that he’d left her behind. “Not a chance in hell! I’m not into weird hentai shit. And even if I were, honestly, ugly old sissies who resort to blackmail are a huge turn-off.”

Her quick thinking worked, as Harpin looked genuinely offended, though it unfortunately made his grip tighten, bladed suckers digging deeper into her skin. “‘Resort to blackmail?’ Stupid little girl, you act as if cunning isn’t its own strength! Knowledge is power, and blackmail is the ultimate type of knowledge. It’s stronger than Devil Fruits and Haki combined! A man can be physically tough but find that dark little secret and threaten to bring it into the light, and you’ll see how he crumbles like a sandcastle against the waves.”

“And you’d do that to your own comrades?!” she asked, teeth clenched against the pain. The elastic tentacles around her legs were crawling higher, squeezing and leaving thin, shallow cuts that stung every time she so much as twitched. Now she understood why the maid uniform included opaque tights; to hide evidence of his horrible touch from visitors.

“Pretty kitty, it’s how I built my career!” The tip of his club slapped her cheek lightly. “By making the right connections and spilling nasty little secrets, I took out irritating rivals, made excellent allies, and put whole governments in my pocket. The Navy may have forced me out, but they still couldn’t keep their secrets from me; my reach is too long, and I have my arms wrapped around too many people,” he said, squeezing tighter for emphasis.

“And I’m supposed to find this attractive?”

“You should be honored I’m even bothering with you! When I was head of Intelligence, queens and Marines alike made their way to my bed!”

“And how many of them came willingly?” came a voice from the entryway.

Turning her head, Nami’s eyes widened behind her mask as Black Cage Hina strolled into the study, mercury gown and regal scowl worthy of a goddess of war.

[what-is-sibling-test]

from 'RittenhouseTL' for all things Timeless https://ift.tt/2MoTCi8 via Istudy world

a twysted fairytale

This is the one-shot I have been working on for the past few days, for reasons, and consider it my thank-you to the Garcy fandom for being wonderful people who I love and appreciate very much.

And yes, in case you’re wondering, this is 100% (based on) a real place.

Rated T.

Theodora Twyst is a legend in the London bookselling world. The humble family shop was founded in 1906 by her father and uncle, Jack and John Twyst, as a one-room storefront on Oxford Street, and was taken over by Theodora herself in 1950, in which capacity she has run it ever since. Twyst’s hosts Literary Luncheons, a serried social event that has attracted a laundry list of famous twentieth-century writers, artists, and other public intellectuals, and boasts up to thirty miles of labyrinthine shelving and a nearly uncanny ability to get its hands on almost any title, no matter how rare or out of print. Its attractively shabby Victorian façade, out of place among the glittering modern developments of Oxford Street, is a favored Instagrammable spot. It is something of a cult tourist attraction, and nobody can deny that it has a lot of history.

As far as Lucy Preston, currently in her second hour of searching for a book in the guts of the venerable institution, can tell, it’s entirely the offbeat, historical-literary, old-fashioned eccentric vibe that keeps Twyst’s in business. God knows absolutely nothing else about it is intended to do that. Lovingly described as “if Kafka had gone into the bookselling trade” and “designed by a Victorian lunatic,” Twyst’s does not fuck around with its aesthetic. Not in the least. This might be because Theodora Twyst is an autocratic, aristocratic, iron-fisted, technology-hating old hag who refuses to install any modern conveniences in her store (forget cash registers, she won’t even allow calculators) and is famous for firing employees at the drop of a hat and for any negligible reason. She never had children because she might have had to give them money, and appears to apply the same philosophy to her booksellers. They’re not allowed to handle cash, so the process of buying a book goes thusly:

1)  Actually find your desired title, in a giant, dim maze of a store where the employees cannot look up anything on the computer, may or may not speak English, and appear to stop one step short of actively hating you, while the books are not categorized by author name, title, subject, or anything else intuitive, but by publisher;

2)  (Lucy is failing step one, get back to her in a minute);

3)  Locate a bookseller, overcome the above obstacles of them hating and/or not understanding you, and have them place your book in a brown paper bag, which is then deposited in a pneumatic tube and sent down to ground level;

4)  Queue to receive a paper invoice with the amount of your purchase written on it in, who the fuck knows, magical squid ink;

5)  Travel to the first floor, queue once again at the cashier’s desk, and pay the amount on said invoice (in cash, because no credit card machines), whereupon you are given a stamped Receipt of Purchase and have to sign your firstborn child over to an evil witch (probably named Theodora);

6)  Queue a third time at the book pickup desk, where your precious volume, having presumably survived its journey through the creaky, dusty innards of this horrible place, is matched with your invoice and grudgingly permitted to leave the premises. Maybe. It seems unlikely.

The only reason anyone ventures in here, instead of a polite, modern, and sane bastion of British bookselling efficiency like Waterstone’s or Blackwell’s (or God forbid, W.H. Smith) is a) because apparently it’s a hip experience to come and be treated like a worm, and b) its range. As noted, it can find just about anything anyone would ever require – you could probably ask for a Gutenberg Bible and it would turn one up, while hating your guts the whole time – and Lucy has exhausted her search of the IHR and its partner libraries for this one book she really needs. She was advised to try here, but to block out an entire afternoon for it, which seemed a little strange to her at first. Now she’s starting to think it wasn’t nearly enough. Will they lock her in when they close, because they just don’t give a shit, or would they chase her out with brooms for breathing too much on the books?

[read the rest on AO3]