#let him being his second in command THE VOICE OF THE CREW

[xjulixred45x]

EURYLOCHUS WAS ODY'S BROTHER IN LAW!?!?

Hehe Yep! Eurylochus in the myths was married to Odysseus younger Sister, Ctimene. So he was not only a Long time friend/brother of war/ second in command, but pretty literally FAMILY.

one would think that would make Eurylochus more lenient on Ody but nooooo.

The family reunion would be kind of awkward with Ctimene now that i think of it😅

[ceilidho]

fear of god

prompt: There's someone outside the spacecraft. You don't remember them being part of the crew. Part 1 masterlist

-

In the end, gazing out of the ship's portholes into the dark vastness of space proves to be less comforting than the architects must have originally anticipated. You can attest to this more than most.

Every morning, you get up an hour earlier than the rest of your crew and make your way to the galley to make your morning cup of coffee. A pack of instant crystals into your favorite mug and hot recycled water from the kettle. Sometimes you stay to have breakfast, but often you take your coffee with you to the main viewing deck for your morning sojourn. 

There, you sit curled up in the navigator’s chair and stare out of the flight deck window until your breathing levels out. Early morning meditations. With the sun only visible through the rear porthole, the Milky Way stretches out before you, immeasurably vast. Ancient cosmic entities, some already long dead. 

Stars fill your field of vision like an intricate latticework of varying brightness. The watery glass warps at the edges, bending the far off light. All things with their propensity for brightness and decay.

A deep, steady hum fills the room. It’s cathartic to be alone. Sometimes, when you look out into the depths of space, you imagine yourself as a cartographer of old, labeling everything beyond this point: “here there be dragons.” 

Farah is the first person to join you, the ship’s maintenance technician already washed and dressed, floral cumberbund cinched around her midriff and her headwrap pinned in place. She greets you with a firm nod upon her entry, never one to mince words. In the months since your ship set off on its course for Jupiter, you’ve exchanged all of ten words, most of your conversation one-sided. 

She glides in like she’s been up for hours, likely running through her routine maintenance checklist. Monitoring propulsion, life support, and all critical systems. You wouldn’t doubt if she had been, descending into the bowels of the ship and cataloging every minute difference from the day before. Nothing if not thorough. 

Graves sweeps in not twenty minutes later, his uniform pressed and ironed. When he glances your way, you shrink under his gaze, self-conscious about something unidentifiable. He is every bit the commander you met briefly back on Earth, never a hair out of place. If he were less intimidating, he’d be insufferable. 

“Morning,” you murmur, the mug still close to your lips making your voice reverberate. He doesn’t respond. You wonder if he even heard you greet him. It likely wouldn't matter.

Medic has a different connotation this far from Earth. Hierarchy out in space is typically determined by way of one’s importance to the ship, and the scope of your role does not, unfortunately, include maintaining the ship. What that means, unofficially, is that you speak when spoken to, and not for any other reason. 

In the months to come, there may be moments or days when your usefulness is acknowledged, usually much to your colleagues’ chagrin. Though it’s not likely that any of the crew will encounter foreign pathogens while on a hermetically sealed ship in the middle of space, they’re all still susceptible to falls and cuts and worse. Nikolai, the chief engineer on board, had sprained his wrist during the first week of the mission, lending you immediate purpose and validation. 

You make way for the second officer when he finally deigns to make an appearance, sliding quietly out of his seat and stepping to the back of the cockpit, back pressed to the wall closest to the door. 

“Morning, everyone,” he greets, peppier than the three of you despite his rumpled appearance. His thick mustache twitches with the force of his smile. “Ready to seize another day?”

“Jesus Christ, Keller, let’s tone it down ‘til about ten o’clock, alright?” Graves sighs. He pinches the bridge of his nose as if to ward off a headache.  

“Our clocks are off, commander,” Alex jokes, coming over to give him a little shake by the shoulder. It would be insubordination from anyone else. “I’m about ready to eat lunch.” 

“Let’s just get through formation and then you can go fill up the bottomless pit you call a stomach.”

The morning briefing never takes up too much time. It’s as much of an excuse to have coffee together as it is to go through the day’s schedule. Graves spends most of the time reviewing the flight course, charting where the ship will be by day’s end. 

“Almost through the belt,” Alex remarks, staring down at the monitor in front of him. It’s an incomprehensible jumble when you try to peer over his shoulder, but he must be able to make sense of it. 

The crew had been on high alert since entering the torus-shaped region between Mars and Jupiter a month back. For the most part, they needn’t have been so on edge—the average distance of the asteroids in the circumstellar disc between the two planets tended to be quite substantial—but a collision the previous day had reinstated their earlier anxiety. 

“Can we switch from manual yet, Farah?” Graves asks from his seat at the helm of the ship. 

She shakes her head, lips tightening with frustration. “I still have to figure out what’s going on with cruise control—it’s not responding correctly.”

“Was that from that little ding the other day?” you ask, blurting out the question without thinking.

Farah’s expression is flat when she glances over at you. “That ‘little ding’ nearly took out our communications system altogether.” 

You wince at that, staring down at your feet instead. Better to just shut your mouth than make a fool of yourself. Had you not blurted out the question, you might have even surmised the nature of the situation given the comm specialist’s notable absence from the cockpit. 

When Nikolai eventually ambles in with a thermos of coffee and deep troughs under his eyes, Farah looks up and frowns. “Where’s Hadir?”

The man shrugs, nonplussed. “Cargo?” he grunts, rolling the toothpick between his teeth around the words. 

She sighs. “I’ll go find him.”

No one says anything when she leaves, the double doors sliding open and shut automatically at her approach, and she doesn’t bother saying goodbye. 

“Dismissed, I guess,” Graves sighs, collapsing into his chair and spinning around to face the stars proliferating in front of him. 

The informality digs at you sometimes because you know you can’t indulge in it. The times you’ve attempted to, you’ve been rebuffed. Sometimes unintentionally, but often to remind you of your place.

This isn’t a crew you’ve ever worked with before. From conversations you’ve overheard, you’ve gleaned that they’ve all worked together in different capacities before, years of familiarity breeding an easy trust and companionship between them. Two of them might even be lovers—though Farah maintains a neutral facade at all times, the same can’t be said for Alex, the man always hovering nearby, eyes going soft at the sight of her. 

You’re the only odd man out. The newcomer. And though you sit with them in the mess for meals and partake in conversation and pass jokes like small stones from hand to hand, you know deep down, in the dark well of your heart, that you are not one of them. You are a passenger that they picked up along the way. A straggler. 

This wasn’t supposed to be the case. When you signed on to the mission months ago, the circumstances were wholly different. A newer ship, a different crew, some of which you’d worked with before. Then ownership changed hands and budgets were cut. Slashed to ribbons even. You had a chance to tour the ship before the launch date, and even down on Earth with all the glitz and glam available to trick the eye, you hadn’t been convinced of the vessel’s ability to withstand the extreme conditions of space.  

But by then, you were locked into a contract so iron-clad that the consequences of breaking it seemed worse than simply seeing the mission through. 

Most days, you feel like you’re waiting for something to give. You pass through halls that echo with low creaks and a deep, rhythmic thrum. Sometimes the walls of the ship groan so loud that you wait with baited breath for the hull to implode around you, to feel the metal crush the delicate eggshell of your body beneath its weight. 

It’s not any better to just stay in your room, your quarters too cramped to nurture anything other than claustrophobia. A recent, unfortunate side effect of spending months on such a small ship. You’ve become accustomed to crews numbering in the tens and hundreds, ships so colossal in size that even months spent aboard weren’t enough to explore all of its nooks and crannies. Cargo holds with excavators and backhoes for excavations on Mars and humvees for getting around the rough terrain. 

This ship barely holds six people and the payload you’ve been hauling to Europa. Pipes hiss in the corridors. Once a week, the radiator splutters or the intercom overhead crackles, kicking your heart into hyperdrive. 

You leave formation more out of sorts than ever. Vaguely aimless. With nothing to do, you grab breakfast in the galley and eat at the counter, too uncomfortable to venture over to the mess. Your days consist mainly of hovering around the ship or sitting quietly in the medbay, waiting for something to happen. A morbid preoccupation. 

The stairs clunk under your feet as you make your way down towards the medbay. You’ve long grown used to the sharp sound of your boots against the metal floor. 

Rationally, you know they don’t dislike you. You might even venture to say that you get along with the majority of them, particularly the chief engineer and Farah’s brother. The big man likes that it only takes a single drink to get you plastered, often howls with laughter when you stumble out of the mess after drinking with the crew, always the first to turn in for the night. Farah herself is only frosty because she works twice as hard as anyone else, burning the midnight oil on the regular. 

You swallow half-truths like stones to help settle your stomach. 

It doesn’t replace real companionship though; it approximates, but doesn’t quite replicate it. You feel its absence most acutely in the sidelong glances you sometimes get of real affection: Alex grazing his pinkie across Farah’s when he thinks no one is looking; Farah’s eyes softening at the sight of her brother; Graves and Nikolai reminiscing about something a decade past, hardly even aware of your presence in the room. 

It’s something you’ve endured before, but never for such an extended period of time. Prolonged isolation prickles at the mind, feathering the edges. It purples space; passes through the vents. The crew rarely goes on spacewalks (hardly any need for it), but sometimes you swear the ship’s oxygen has a faint sulfuric undertone, like rotten eggs. It permeates the air wherever you go. 

Someone knocks at the window just as you walk by.

You pause mid-sip, the mug raised to your lips and just pressing into your bottom lip, not yet tilted. 

“Hello,” you hear through the thick-paned glass, the voice muffled through the layers of glass and plastic partitions. “Could you let me in, please?”

Though your reflex is to look up, you don’t for some reason. The muscles in your neck stay locked instead. Shoulders stiff, weighed down by an unnatural force. 

The thing outside the ship knocks again. “Love? Can you hear me?”

Your head turns towards the porthole, the hand holding your mug drifting away from your mouth. It tips in your hand and a drop leaks down the side. Your lips tingle, almost numb. 

There’s a man outside the porthole, clear as day. He hovers outside the window, a hand raised in a friendly wave and full lips splitting to reveal perfect, white teeth when he smiles. He’s dressed in a spacesuit, no different than any of the crew on a spacewalk. Through the helmet, you can make out dark eyes and dimples. A close cropped beard.

It’s not a face you’ve ever seen before though. You think you might’ve remembered someone so handsome working on the ship with you.

Something needles inside of you though. A sickening feeling, like something you’ve forgotten but you desperately need to remember. 

“Hi there,” the man says, voice as charming as you’ve ever heard, so velvety rich that you feel the blood heat your cheeks. “Glad you were passing by. Mind letting me in?”

[latanyalove]

Loves On Fire

Summary: Ace thinks that you're going to fall out of love with him because of how he travels a lot but you could never.

Song: Friends · Chase Atlantic

Author’s note: Please like, reblog and share this! Also please follow for more! 🫶

The salt spray kissed your face as you stood on the docks of Dawn Island, the familiar scent bringing a bittersweet ache to your chest. The Striker, Ace's ship, loomed large and imposing before you, sails already unfurled, eager to catch the wind.

You watched him, Fire Fist Ace, Commander of the Second Division of the Whitebeard Pirates. He was a whirlwind of controlled chaos, his black hair tousled by the breeze, that familiar mischievous grin plastered on his face as he barked orders to his crew.

He moved with a confidence that bordered on arrogance, a confidence that both thrilled and terrified you.

He caught your eye, and his entire demeanor softened. The boisterous commander vanished, replaced by the slightly awkward, endearingly clumsy man you knew. He waved, a wide, genuine smile splitting his face, and you returned it, trying to ignore the knot forming in your stomach.

He bounded towards you, his pace quickening with each step. “Hey, Y/N!" he greeted, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine. He smelled of smoke and adventure, a potent combination that always left you breathless.

“Ace,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. You wanted to say so much more - I’ll miss you. Be safe. Come back to me. But the words caught in your throat.

He reached out, cupping your cheek with his scarred hand. His touch was warm, grounding. "I won't be gone long, you know," he said, his eyes searching yours.

You forced a smile. "I know. Just...be careful."

He chuckled, a low, reassuring sound. "When am I ever not careful?" He winked, but you saw the flicker of something else in his eyes, a shadow of doubt you hadn't noticed before.

He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “Hey, Y/N... You’re not… you’re not going to get tired of this, are you? Of me being gone all the time?”

The question hung in the air, heavy and laced with insecurity. It was the elephant in the room, the unspoken fear that had haunted your relationship since day one.

Ace, Fire Fist Ace, a man who commanded the respect of the entire Grand Line, was afraid of losing you.

You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. You understood his worry. His life was a constant whirlwind of missions, battles, and adventures.

He was rarely in one place for long, and your time together was always fleeting, snatched moments amidst the chaos. It was easy to see why he might think you’d grow tired of it, that you’d yearn for a more stable, predictable life.

But he was wrong. So wrong.

“Ace,” you said, your voice firm despite the tremor in your hands. “Look at me.”

He did, his black eyes wide and vulnerable.

“Do you honestly think,” you continued, “that a few weeks, a few months, even a few years, could possibly diminish what I feel for you?”

He didn't answer, his gaze fixed on yours, searching for any sign of deceit.

You took his hand, squeezing it tightly. "I love you, Ace. Not just the idea of you, not just the thrill of your adventures, but you. The man who burns with passion, the man who protects his crew, the goofy idiot who falls asleep in the middle of meals, the man who's scared of losing me even though he's the most fearless person I know."

You paused, letting your words sink in. "Your travels, your missions, they're a part of who you are. They're in your blood. I wouldn't want to change that, even if I could. And honestly," you added with a playful nudge, "who else is going to bring back the weird and wonderful souvenirs you always seem to find?"

A slow smile spread across his face, chasing away the shadows that had clouded his eyes.

"So, you're saying my collection of miniature sea king statues is a contributing factor to our unwavering love?"

You laughed, relieved to see him back to his old self. "It certainly helps." You leaned in, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "What I'm saying is that I love all of you, Ace. The part that stays here with me, and the part that sails the seas. The distance doesn't matter. The fact that I would follow you to the ends of the earth should explain my side more clearly."

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close. "I love you too, Y/N. More than anything." He buried his face in your hair, inhaling deeply. "I just… I don’t ever want to lose you.”

You hugged him tighter, feeling his heart beating steadily against yours. “You won’t, Ace. I promise.”

He pulled back, his expression serious. "Thank you," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "For understanding. For being you."

He paused, then a mischievous glint returned to his eyes. "But just so you know, those miniature sea king statues are collector's items. They'll be worth a fortune someday!"

You rolled your eyes, laughing again. "Of course they are. Only you, Ace."

The ship's bell chimed, signaling his departure. He laced his fingers through yours one last time. "I have to go," he said, his voice tinged with regret.

"I know," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady.

He leaned down and kissed you, a deep, lingering kiss that promised a swift return. When he pulled away, his eyes were bright with determination.

"I'll be back before you know it," he said. "And I'll bring you something even better than a miniature sea king this time."

With a final squeeze of your hand, he turned and strode towards the Striker, his figure silhouetted against the rising sun. You watched him go, your heart aching with longing, but also filled with a quiet confidence.

As the ship pulled away from the docks, Ace stood at the helm, waving to you until you were just a speck in the distance. You raised your hand in response, a silent promise echoing in your heart.

The days that followed were long and filled with a quiet solitude. You threw yourself into your work, helping the villagers, tending to your garden, and spending time with your friends.

You wrote letters to Ace, pouring out your thoughts and feelings onto the page, knowing that he would treasure them when he finally received them.

You missed him terribly, of course. The evenings were especially hard, when the silence of your small cottage seemed to amplify the absence of his laughter, his touch, his very presence.

But you refused to let the loneliness consume you.

You knew that Ace was out there, fighting, exploring, living his life to the fullest. And you trusted him to come back to you, just as he had promised.

One evening, weeks later, as the sun began to set, casting long shadows across the island, you were sitting on your porch, reading a book. Suddenly, a familiar voice shattered the peaceful silence.

"Y/N!"

You looked up, your heart leaping in your chest. Standing before you, grinning from ear to ear, was Ace. He was tanned and windswept, his clothes slightly rumpled, but his eyes were shining with happiness.

"Ace!" you cried, jumping to your feet and running towards him.

He caught you in his arms, lifting you off the ground and spinning you around. "I'm back!" he exclaimed, his voice filled with joy.

You laughed, tears streaming down your face. "I see that! I missed you so much!"

He set you down, his gaze searching yours. "I missed you too," he said, his voice soft. "More than you know."

He reached into his bag and pulled out a small, intricately carved wooden box. "I told you I'd bring you something better than a miniature sea king," he said with a wink.

You opened the box, and gasped. Inside, nestled on a bed of soft velvet, was a single, perfect seashell. It was iridescent in the fading light, shimmering with all the colors of the rainbow.

"It's beautiful," you whispered, your voice choked with emotion.

"I found it on a deserted island," Ace explained. "It reminded me of you. Strong, resilient, and full of inner beauty."

He took your hand, placing the seashell in your palm. "Keep it with you," he said. "As a reminder that no matter how far apart we are, my heart will always be with you."

You closed your hand around the shell, holding it tight. "Thank you, Ace," you said. "For everything."

He smiled, a genuine, heartfelt smile that reached his eyes. "So," he said, his voice playful again. "What do you say we go inside, and I tell you all about my adventures?"

You looped your arm through his, and together, you walked towards the house, the setting sun painting the sky in hues of orange and gold.

As you listened to Ace's stories, you knew, with absolute certainty, that your love was stronger than any distance, any challenge, any fear.

Ace thought you'd fall out of love with him because of his constant travels. He thought you'd grow tired of the uncertainty, the loneliness, the fleeting moments.

But he was wrong. He was so wrong. Because your love for him was a fire that burned brighter with each passing day, a flame that no amount of distance could ever extinguish. And you were ready to spend a lifetime showing him just how wrong he was.

You were ready to show him that some things, some loves, were simply meant to be. And yours, with Fire Fist Ace, was one of them. That shell, a precious gift from the grand line, stood as a testament to your love, a symbol of a bond that transcended the vast oceans and the perilous adventures.

It was a promise whispered on the wind, a reminder that even across the widest expanse, your hearts would forever remain intertwined. . . .

The raucous cheers still rang in your ears as you walked down the hallway, the scent of sake and grilled meat clinging to your clothes. The party was still going strong on the deck of the Moby Dick, the entire Whitebeard crew celebrating Ace's triumphant return.

A broad smile stretched across your face, mirroring the joy that bubbled within you. You had almost lost him. The thought sent a shiver down your spine, a stark reminder of the fear that had gnawed at you during his mission.

You pushed open the door to Ace's room, a space that had felt eerily empty during his absence. Now, with him lounging on the bed, his signature freckled face relaxed and content, the room felt like it was finally breathing again.

You had spent countless hours in here, curled up with a book, lost in thought, or simply waiting, hoping for his safe return.

"It's good to be back," Ace murmured, his voice a low rumble that resonated through the small space. He stretched, his muscles flexing beneath his sweat-stained shirt. "Thanks for waiting for me."

You chuckled, nudging him playfully with your foot. "Someone had to make sure your room didn't turn into a den of rats while you were gone."

He grinned. "And I appreciate it. You're the best, Y/N)"

The warmth of his words settled over you, a comforting blanket against the lingering chill of worry. "Glad to have you back, idiot. Now, if you'll excuse me," you said, turning towards the door, "I'm going to find you some clothes. You reek of gunpowder and sea salt, Ace."

His hand shot out, gripping your wrist with surprising strength. "Y/N," he said softly, his voice a low drawl that sent a familiar flutter through your stomach. "Where do you think you're going?"

You laughed, trying to ignore the way your heart was suddenly hammering against your ribs. "I told you, Ace. I wanted to get you some new clothes. You stink."

He smirked, his dark eyes glinting with mischief. "What if I took them off?"

The words hung in the air, thick with unspoken desire. Your breath hitched, your cheeks flushing despite your best efforts to remain nonchalant. You swallowed hard, trying to regain your composure.

You knew exactly what he was doing, and you knew you shouldn’t be caught up in it. Not yet, at least. But the pull was undeniable, the magnetic force between you almost unbearable.

"Ace," you began, attempting a scolding tone, but your voice wavered slightly. "There's still a party going on. People will notice if you're suddenly missing."

He tugged you closer, your back now pressed against the door. The heat radiating from his body was intoxicating, his scent a heady mix of smoke and something uniquely him.

"Let them wonder," he murmured, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. "I've been away for too long. I need to... readjust."

Your gaze flickered to his lips, drawn by an invisible force. His eyes were locked on yours, a silent invitation to lose yourself in the moment.

You knew this game, and you knew you were losing.

He always had this effect on you, a potent blend of charm and raw desire that melted your resistance.

"Ace, stop," you breathed, but the words lacked conviction.

He leaned closer, his lips brushing against your ear. "Make me," he whispered, and a jolt of electricity shot through you.

Your hand instinctively reached up, tangling in his raven hair. "You're impossible," you mumbled, your voice barely audible.

"Only for you," he replied, his lips now tracing the curve of your jaw.

The dam finally broke. You surrendered to the need that had been simmering beneath the surface for weeks, months even. You tilted your head back, giving him better access.

"God, I missed you," your voice was shaky.

Ace pulled back slightly, his eyes searching yours. "Missed you too, Y/N. More than you know."

You looked at him with a soft expression, the joy of his return still bubbling inside you. "Show me."

He didn't need any further encouragement. His lips crashed down on yours, a kiss that was both demanding and tender, a perfect reflection of the man you loved. You met him with equal fervor, your hands exploring the familiar contours of his back, feeling the hard muscles beneath his worn shirt.

The kiss deepened, tongues dancing, bodies pressing together. The world outside the small cabin faded away, leaving only the two of you, entangled in a web of desire and relief.

He slowly broke the kiss, his breath ragged. He looked down at you, his eyes filled with a passion that made your heart pound even harder. "I want you, Y/N," he said roughly, his voice thick with need.

You swallowed hard, your gaze unwavering. "I want you too, Ace," you breathed.

He wasted no time. His hands reached for the hem of your shirt, slowly pulling it up and over your head. You reciprocated, fumbling with the buttons of his own, eager to feel his skin against yours.

The room quickly became littered with discarded clothing, tangible evidence of the urgency that consumed you both.

The party continued to rage on the deck, oblivious to the intimate scene unfolding in Ace's cabin. The sounds of laughter and music were a distant hum, drowned out by the pounding of your heart and the rasp of Ace's breath against your skin.

He lifted you onto the bed, his hands roaming over your body, igniting a fire in their wake. You met his gaze, your eyes mirroring the desire that burned within him.

He leaned down, his lips finding yours again, and you lost yourself in the moment, in the taste of him, the feel of him, the sheer, unadulterated joy of being in his arms again. . . .

[grandline-fics]

Hi Kerrie, thank you for your wonderful writings! I was wondering if we could we see the ‘waking up the morning after’ prompt with Shanks and/or zoro and sabo (if you enjoy writing for these characters). Thanks, I hope you’re having a great day! ✨

DESCRIPTION: Prompt: Waking up the morning after

WARNINGS: a little suggestive but nothing explicit? mostly fluff

CHARACTERS: Shanks, Zoro

WORDS: 1,889

A/N: Thank you for requesting this! I kept everything more on the fluffy and sweet side and only managed to think of something for Shanks and Zoro. I might do something with this for Sabo separately if I think of a scenario for him. Hope you like what I managed to come up for this one.

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST

———————

SHANKS

You’d always known what you were getting yourself in for when you joined the Red Hair Pirates. You knew the type of man Shanks was, his presence alone commanded everyone’s attention and that was before he’d even opened his mouth to begin the effortless charm that flowed from him. He was as charming as he was powerful and unapologetically flirty with everyone he came across. Even before he’d offered you a place on his crew your first interaction with him head been a flirtatious one. It had been so natural and easy, you’d never had an interaction like it. If it hadn’t been interrupted by the group of bandits attacking in the middle of your conversation you’d been sure that you would have gladly followed Shanks to where his bed had been for the night and never seen him again when you woke. However it was thanks to the bandits that Shanks had gotten to see just how formidable a fighter you were and insisted you be a part of his crew. 

Naturally you couldn’t say no to him with an offer like that but now that he was your Captain you’d made it a firm rule that nothing would happen physically between you both. It would just become messy if it was only a one time thing. It would muddy the waters between seeing him as a lover without lessening his authority as your leader. While you knew deep down that Shanks would never kick you off the crew you didn’t want to risk it. You’d kept firm in your dedication to just being his subordinate and resisted his charms when the crew partied. Yes you indulged in the playful banter but that’s as far as you allowed it to go. You just always felt so comfortable with him that the second his lips met yours the evening before during one of your late night talks that all sense went out the window and you gave in to temptation so easily.

That’s why you refused to open your eyes, because if you did that meant facing the fact you’d royally fucked up. Still denial was the more appealing option because the warmth of Shanks’ sleeping body against yours was just as enticing as he was when he was awake. No, you had to be strong. With a deep breath you forced your hand to rub your eyes and slowly opened them, internally cursing when you saw the sight of Shanks sleeping all too peacefully beside you. It really wasn’t fair how good he looked but you couldn’t get distracted. You needed to talk about what happened. Glancing down you looked at his arm across your body, fingers lightly curled against your hip. As if sensing what you were awake, Shanks’ peaceful expression shifted to one of groggy stirring. His fingers secured themselves against your side before his arm pulled you sharply to hold you by his chest. Your breath lodged in your chest when he let out a content sigh, nuzzling his face against your neck. “Mornin’ gorgeous…” Heavy with sleep, his voice was even deeper than normal. When you didn’t immediately answer, Shanks’ eyes finally opened, regarding you carefully. “What’s up?”

“You really have to ask?” You asked softly with a small laugh, turning you head to look at him. You never had an issue being open and honest with Shanks. Even now as you both lay naked and about to talk about what happened between you both you felt no hesitation or need to hold back. “Last night shouldn’t have happened, should it?”

“You asking me or telling me?” Shanks asked softly, fingers lightly moving to play with yours. “I don’t regret it.”

“This isn’t about regrets Shanks.” You sighed, settling your free hand over his to still the gentle but distracting motions. “This is about what happens next. This is about balance. What are the crew going to think?”

“I think the words ‘fucking finally’ and ‘Cap’n you lucky bastard’ will be the general consensus.” Shanks grinned at you, relieved to see you fight a smile and playfully roll your eyes at him. “I’m serious though. The only one overthinking this is you. The crew have been waiting on this for so long so nothing’s going to change with them. The only question is, did you want this to have been a one-time thing?”

“Shanks you don’t do relationships. Not in the time I’ve been on the crew.”

“Yeah because I only wanted to do a relationship with you.” Shanks explained, lacing his fingers between yours to lead your hand up to his lips and press the softest kiss against your knuckles. “So what do you think?”

“I think you’re a very dangerous man Red Hair…” you sighed, stunned at his confession but not rejecting it. His effortless charm and commanding warmth was dangerous. Even more so was how safe and happy he made you but you had no fears about this.

“You’re one to talk.” Shanks chuckled, lowering his hand to pull you closer. “You’ve had me under your spell since the first day we met and I’ll be damned if I let you go now.”  

ZORO

You and Zoro always had a strange sort of tension underlying in your friendship. On the surface you both were warm and comfortable in each other’s presences. Perfectly balancing the other and both having a strong understanding of the other without needing to communicate beyond brief words and the slightest shifts in stance. On the ship you two were considered the closest of friends. Underneath it all? You both held heavy attraction and intense want for each other but at the same time the restraint you both had to never step over that line and delve deeper into what you both desired was stronger. For now you were both set on getting stronger and enjoying your adventures together with the rest of the Strawhats. Deep down you both knew that the other wouldn’t reject any advances if they were made but still you both held back, believing there would be plenty of time for that. That you’d both know when the time was right. 

Then Sabaody turned the tide for you all. Under the assault of the Marines you were all defeat so easily and with terror in your eyes you realised you were all outmatched. Out of instinct you looked to Zoro and you could only watch helplessly and washed in cold dread as the swordsman disappeared in the blink of an eye. Then one by one the rest of you were dispatched by Kuma, struck out of sight and before you knew it you were on a completely different island. Alone and scared for the first time in a long while, missing and fearing for your crew. Just when you thought things couldn’t get worse you were faced with the news that your Captain had lost his brother. Thankfully you deciphered his coded message and resolved yourself to spend that time getting stronger. 

Through the two years away from your friends you always thought of them, hoping they were safe and training too although Zoro crept into your mind most of all. On your worst days, the image of him training on Sunny’s deck like he used to helped motivate you to push through your mental blocks and keep going. Finally the day came when you stepped foot on Sabaody again and a shudder ran through you at the memory of what had happened the last time came to your mind. You had faith in your crew that you’d all improved and it would never happen again but it was hard not to remember the fear of that day as if it was happening all over again. Setting off you made your way to the grove for the long awaited reunion. 

Night had begun to fall when you spotted the familiar sight of Sunny’s head and your steps quickened from your relaxed pace into a full run. Just as you climbed onto the deck you felt a presence rush towards you. Sharply you turned and lifted your weapon in time to block the blade being swung at you. Your eyes lit at the sight of Zoro, the relief that flooded you quickly gave way into all those old feelings hurtling back and your smile grew to see the recognition appear in Zoro’s expression. Then your smile fell slightly to see one of his eyes was scarred and shut. Without thinking you reached out and settled your hand on his cheek, your thumb gently touching his scar. The small action was all it took to bring those old feelings that had always danced dangerously close to the surface reappear stronger than even given the two years of separation. “Who else has arrived?”

“No one. It’s just us.” Zoro answered while capturing your hand that was still against his cheek. Without needing to say anymore you both closed the distance remaining between you both and your free hand fisted in the collar of his clothing and yanked him forward while his grabbed your waist. Neither of your wasted anymore time in finally coming together and kissing intensely, something both of you had spend the two years apart regretting hadn’t happened until now. Even then it wasn’t enough, you were both so desperate for each other, to make up for lost and wasted time holding back that you both fell headlong into your desires now; acting in perfect synchronisation and the almost wordless communication that was unique to the two of you.

Finally when morning came you woke feeling calmer and more at peace than you ever had before. Even with the weight of Zoro’s arms holding you tight and secured against his body you felt light and happy. More importantly you didn’t feel scared about the next part of your adventures with the crew. Your eyes opened to see Zoro was already awake and watching you carefully, seeming to be just as relaxed as you were. “Hope you’re not planning to greet everyone back like this.”

“As if.” Zoro rolled his good eye but the slow grin began to appear on his face as he took in your face in the morning light. The two years had changed you both, but not in the ways it mattered. You were still you and apart from his loyalty to Luffy, you were the only other person he worked hard to get stronger for and return to. At his response you grinned brightly and Zoro let his knuckles lightly stroke your face, he’d missed your smile. He’d missed you. Zoro leaned forward with the intention of pulling you into another kiss only to stop when a familiarly ‘super’ cheer broke through the calm morning air. 

“Looks like we won’t have the ship to ourselves anymore.” You grinned, leaning in to press a quick kiss against his lips as you prepared yourself to get up and change to greet Franky. It wouldn’t be long now before you were all finally reunited. You were stopped when Zoro sat up with you and pulled you back to hug you tight, his silent way of telling you he wasn’t going anywhere ever again, not without you. With a warm smile you squeezed his arm in a reassurance that you felt the same way.

——————————————-

TAG LIST (If I’ve missed anyone or if you want to be added just let me know) @3v37773, @tsaaps , @i-am-all-love-puns-and-lazy , @sanemisnonexistenteyebrow , @fiery-captain-spider-santa @kabloswrld , @atanukileaf , @ane5e , @stuckinthewrongworld , @deathsmajestysworld , @cloudysunset04 , @extremely-ashtridic , @decayingpizza , @liesatemyocean , @ace-for-ace , @nerium-lil , @destynelseclipsa

[godzilla-barbie]

When Jake Met Polly

Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Reader

Summary: Jake likes to flirt with his Air Traffic Controller or Jake Seresin has never seen When Harry Met Sally.

Warnings: Not much, fluff, flirting and refs to sex.

Note: This is just a short little idea i've had for agesss... reader has a 'name' but it's just her callsign, Polly, as in, short for Polaris. Ty to @hangmanssunnies i wuv u <3

“Hangman to Tower, I am coming in hot.”

You roll your eyes at the all too familiar voice that crackles through your radio, a smile pulling at your lips as you adjust your microphone and briefly throw a glance over your shoulder, just to make sure your commanding officer wasn’t lingering.

“Tower to Hangman. We are appalled at the gross lack of radio etiquette on display,” you respond. Barely a few seconds pass before you receive a reply.

“Come on, Polly, we've been working together for over a year now, what’s a little informality between colleagues?” Hangman says, and despite his jet only being a blip on your horizon still, you know he’s grinning.

“A commercial airline, Lieutenant.” You deadpan, your own smile growing as his laughter comes down the line. “You are cleared for landing, proceed to runway B,” you continue, not wanting him to have to ask again seeing as his approach was cutting it close already.

“Polly, have I ever told you that you’re my favourite Controller?” He asks as you watch him enter the pattern, and click your pen.

“Only every day we work together, Lieutenant.” There’s a beat of quiet as he expertly manoeuvres his jet toward the correct runway.

“And how sexy your voice is?” He goes on, sounding vaguely distracted.

“Once again, Lieutenant, this is not a commercial airline.” You respond, twirling your hair around your finger at his compliment anyway.

He doesn’t reply, and a shock of horror flickers through you as you watch the jet touch down once, something happening with his landing gear that makes the jet shudder, then seem to bounce momentarily before it drops back onto the tarmac and skids to a stop.

“Hangman, do you require the emergency crew?!” You ask quickly, eyes scanning the aircraft as it powers down fully. You wait tensely as the canopy pops up, and a broad figure jumps out, scrambling down the ladder, and once on the ground, he bends low to get a look at the problem.

“No, Polly, thank you. Seems the landing gear malfunctioned, must’ve been in a position to sustain damage once I landed…” his voice trails off, and you watch him straighten, and greet the ground crew who’d raced over to help.

“Glad you’re safe, Lieutenant. Tower out.” You say as he begins discussing with the crew, but briefly turns up toward the tower and raises a hand.

You let out a sigh of relief and settle back in your seat.

–

Around lunch time you make your way down to the tarmac. Hangman’s jet had been cleared off some time ago, and by now you know reports would have been filed, including your own, and his aircraft will have been taken in for inspection and repairs. You’re milling around the ‘crash’ site, inspecting the scrape marks left behind when you hear footsteps from behind approaching you.

“Can I help you ma’am?”

You know his voice immediately, but you know his face too, and when you at last turn back to him you’re graced by the sight of it, bright and unworried, despite the accident he’d had earlier.

“Oh, don’t mind me! I just watched someone bounce their jet off my tarmac earlier, just checking for potholes,” you tell him wrly. It takes a moment, but his face flashes with recognition and soon he’s taking a step towards you.

“Polly?!” Hangman asks, sounding surprised. You hum in response, then round on him.

“Where is it that you found your qualifications, Liuetenant? We should probably return them,” you tease him. Hangman only takes up a stance and stretches his arms out, his flight suit stretching desperately around his biceps as he does.

“Oh, Polly, if I’d known that was all it took to get you down here, I’d have started chipping bits off months ago,” he flirts shamelessly. You smile at him but don’t speak and after a moment, he drops his arms again, crossing them over his chest instead and blinking at you curiously. “What?” he asks.

Your smile grows, and you shake your head at him.

“Your terrible lines work better when I can see you, that's all,” you inform him, making him uncross his arms and laugh.

“I would say that’s generally the case, even if a guy ain’t me,” he replies coolly. You only shake your head again, and look back out at the expanse of tarmac ahead of you.

“Thanks to you getting your pilots lisence off the back of a cereal box, we’ve ruined our Sleepless in Seattle thing,” you say with a forlorn sigh.

When you look back at Hangman he’s frowning at you in confusion.

“Our what?” he asks. You roll your eyes and turn to face him fully at last, waving your hand as you speak.

“You know, our Sleepless in Seattle thing. We talk all this time, but never meet, and if we cross paths, we don’t realise it? It’s ruined now,” you accuse him lightly. Hangman hums, and seems to think for a moment.

“I get to be Meg Ryan in this situation, right?” he says, making you chortle.

“Well you’d have to be. No way I’d leave 90s Bill Pullman!”

“Well, what if we’re not Sleepless in Seattle? What if we’re more… When Harry Met Sally?” he suggests. You squint at him.

“Have you seen that film? I’m not sure that’s the implication you want to go for…” you ask him, making him falter for a moment.

“That’s the one with the emails right?” he responds unsurely. You laugh again, and shake your head.

“No, that’s You’ve Got Mail.”

“What the hell did I just suggest, then?” 

You stare at him for a moment, and can’t stop yourself from grinning up at him.

“More or less not speaking for like ten years, but on the rare occasion we do meet up, we argue,” you tell him, watching him frown even deeper, and shake his own head this time.

“That would be kinda hard, considering you’re the voice in my head,” he says.

“Oh, so we’re doing Her now!”

Hangman fixes you with a deadpan expression and a slightly smirk.

“I don’t even want to know.”

You laugh at him, and begin walking, unsurprised when he immediately joins you, falling into step at your side. “So,” he begins again after a moment, peering down at you. “Despite playing hacky sack on your tarmac, you still gonna let me take you out?”

You falter briefly, but keep walking, this time glancing up at him.

“I didn’t think you were being serious all those times you asked me out,” you don’t bother hiding your surprise. Hangman looks back at you, squinting, and cocks his head.

“At this point I think you’ve shot me down more than Dagger combined, why would I not be serious?” he asks you, sounding oddly serious. You chuckle.

“Right, so, say if, I don’t know, Rooster got a few more hits on you, you wouldn’t leave me hangin’ would you?” you know you’ll say yes, but you can’t help but tease him a little longer.

Hangman raises an eyebrow at you and grins wide and beautiful.

“You? Never,” he says. “Mostly because I’m legally obligated to respond when you speak to me.”

You lift your own eyebrow and fix him with a wry smile.

“I like that in a man.”

Hangman laughs.

–

“I mean it, your voice is sexy,” Jake tells you once he’s sat back down from replacing your drinks. You can’t help but chortle and stir your cocktail with the straw.

“Really? Me telling you to line up and wait in the pattern gets you going?” you ask. Jake grins, but nods very seriously as he takes a short sip of his beer.

“Absolutely. I also like when you tell me about the weather and conditions, and direct me to land.”

Leaning forward with your elbows on the table between you, you put your chin in your hands.

“I liek when you flirt with me,” you begin, waiting for him to smirk at you before continuing on. “And you don’t realise my boss is in the room, so I just have to respond ‘roger’ and ‘acknowledged’ whenever you say something stupid,” you finish. Jake rolls his eyes and leans forward to meet you.

“To be fair, I’d probably be saying something stupid anyway,” he tells you.

You have to let out a laugh at that and finally lean back again.

“Oh yeah, that reminds me, are you ever gonna tell us all how to ‘bury a fossil’? You know, those things that you famously dig up and do not bury?” you tease, earning another eyeroll. Jake shrugs and copies your movements.

“I foretold Mav’s career comeback, didn’t I?”

You laugh again, but this time, get a good look at him sitting casually across from you, out of uniform and seemingly more relaxed than you’ve ever seen, or heard.

“I like your voice too,” you tell him at last, smiling a little at how he seems to preen at your praise. “Your accent is more pronounced face-to-face though, and you don’t sound like you’re performing all the time.”

Jake takes a sip of his beer and shrugs again.

“Can’t be Hangman all the time,” he says. You make a face.

“I like Hangman. He entertains me at work… but I think I like the guy who hasn’t seen When Harry Met Sally, and has a Fisher-Price pilot's lisence even more.”

Jake laughs and nods at you.

“Splash one,” he says before he leans in to you again. “Toddler’s generally have pretty good taste, in my opinion, they’re all about shapes and colours and boobs… can’t fault ‘em!”

You have to laugh and concede that at least, the two of you clinking drinks before you continue to flirt and chat for the rest of the evening.

When Jake drops you back at yours, you invite him inside, under the guise of lending him your DVD copy of When Harry Met Sally, but when he simply lingers in your living room, you start to consider other tactics.

“Jake?” you say, standing up from ‘searching’ your stack of DVD’s and facing him. “This is the part where you save me from admitting I don’t really own a physical copy of the film by having sex with me,” you inform him dutifully, watching as he straightens up and blinks at you. Then, he’s shaking his head, smiling, and taking a step closer toward you.

“I guess every good rom-com does have an earth shattering lie at its core, doesn’t it?” he steps closer, and this time, anchors his hands at your waist, tugging you into him a little more.

“Let's skip the conflict part and go straight to the happy ending, shall we?”

[hearts4hughes]

DUE DILIGENCE ~ CHAPTER ONE

wallstreet!rafe x assistant!reader | warnings: power imbalance, emotionally repressed man with control issues, slow burn, minor language

you’ve been working for rafe cameron for five months. five months of tight deadlines, tighter skirts, and even tighter self control. you haven’t touched him, not even once, but you’ve felt him. through his glances, through the way he stands behind you during meetings, through the silence that thickens when it’s just the two of you in the elevator.

the firm is an empire—cameron capital partners, private equity royalty. and you? you’re his assistant, his right hand, the one who knows the passcodes and the coffee order and where the bodies are buried—figuratively…you think.

it’s just after ten. the building is quiet as the city continues to move from the outside. you’re the only person still at your desk, apart from the cleaning crew and the ghost of whatever soul rafe devoured before lunch.

you’re used to being the last one in the office. it’s not heroic, it’s survival. mr. cameron doesn’t ask you to stay late, he expects it. just like his father drilled into his head when he was like you—young, passionate, ready to conquer.

the overhead fluorescents hum, and you clench your eyes shut. you hate them. not only because of the grueling headaches they cause, but because the glow makes everything look jaundiced: your hands, your half full coffee, the corners of the spreadsheet you’ve been dragging formulas across since six.

your phone buzzes with a message from rafe. it’s short, concise, absent of any personality. of course. you stare at the bold lettering like it owes you something.

boardroom. 5 minutes. bring the deck.

you exhale through your nose, shut your laptop, and grab the stack of printouts you weren’t supposed to be finalizing tonight. the boardroom is dark when you get there, like it forgot anyone would still be working. he’s at the far end, blazer draped over the chair beside him, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, no tie. he looks less like a ceo and more like a crime scene waiting to happen.

you place the printouts in front of him, fingers brushing the table a little too loud in the quiet. “i added the macallan notes,” you say. “and cleaned up slide eleven. legal signed off an hour ago.”

he doesn’t look at you right away. just flips a page. “wasn’t your job to fix slide eleven.”

“i know.”

silence fills the room like an elephant. you tug at your white blouse—the first few buttons of the fitted top undone. not because you’re trying to look seductive or use sex to your advantage, but because mr. cameron ignores the thermostat after 5:00.

he finally glances up. “you don’t have to clean up after other people’s incompetence.”

you blink. that almost sounded like concern. that is if he is capable of harboring another emotion besides indifference. “i’d rather fix it than let you walk into a pitch with a typo,” you say, voice even. “call it self preservation.”

that earns you the ghost of a smirk. it was faint, gone in a second. he nods once, stands, gathers the deck, and his phone. his 6’3 figure towers over you. he looks down upon you, eyes flickering to your undone shirt. he swallows harshly. “you unbuttoned your shirt?” he asks, voice like gravel. suddenly his pants are a size too small. he turns his head to avoid gawking at your cleavage.

you hesitate, “it’s warm in here.” you shrug, arms crossing over your chest at the sudden shift.

“button it back up.” he doesn’t ask, he commands. “i can’t have people thinking my assistant is an escort.”

your stomach tightens. the agitation is evident in your brow. “who’s going to think that?” you ask with a scoff, “the cleaning crew?”

“the reputation of my company doesn’t go unnoticed after hours, miss. y/l/n.” he snaps, eyes boring into yours like lasers. “now button up before i do it for you.”

a huff leaves your lips, but you do so without another word. you turn, heels clicking as you walk away. “you say nothing about my skirt, but a few buttons throw you off.” you mutter under your breath. it wasn’t meant for him. although, not much gets past him.

“what did you say?” his voice slices through the quiet like broken glass—sharp, gleaming, dangerous.

your movements halt. for a second, the hum of the fluorescents is the only thing that dares to speak. you stay facing forward, count three breaths. then, slowly, you pivot.

in two strides, he’s in front of you again. rafe cameron, six-foot-something of expensive wrath and god complex, with eyes like they were carved from something cruel. he’s too close.

you keep your gaze just south of his. you don’t flinch, but your jaw ticks, and that’s enough to give you away. “nothing,” you say, finally, counting the pinstripes on his suit like rosary beads. you don’t apologize and he doesn’t ask again.

his stare lingers too long, and you hate that your body knows the heat of it now, recognizes the pressure like second nature, like muscle memory. you tug your blouse tighter at the collar, your fingers ghosting the fabric. he has the upper hand—he always does. you’re merely faking it.

“you wear skirts like that and think no one notices?” he says, and it’s not a compliment. it’s barely a question, more of a blade sheathed in silk.

“i think it’s none of your business,” you answer, and your voice is quiet, but not meek. it makes his mouth twitch. one wrong response could mean game over. it risks destroying everything you’ve worked for.

“everything in this building is my business.”

you raise an eyebrow. “even the hemline of your assistant’s wardrobe?”

he says nothing, but his silence says more. it always does. you’re both suspended in something unspeakable. the elevator dings in the distance, but neither of you moves. it’s late. you’re tired. this has veered dangerously off course and yet, somehow, it feels like it was always going to come to this.

you break the stare first. “you wanted me to walk you through the deck,” you say. “not critique my wardrobe.”

he doesn’t nod, just steps back, runs a hand through his buzzed hair. “then get on with it.”

it’s colder in the boardroom now, or maybe that’s just you. you speak like nothing happened. like your blouse didn’t become a battleground. like his words didn’t coil around your throat like a leash.

you flip through the presentation, each page crisp, polished. you nail every question. you’ve never missed a beat in front of him, and you won’t start now. when you finish, he leans against the table, crosses his arms.

“good work,” he says and it’s so anticlimactic it almost makes you laugh.

you nod. “i’ll make the final revisions and upload it to the shared folder.”

he doesn’t answer right away. just watches you gather your things. and then, so soft you almost miss it, he mumbles, “you shouldn’t stay this late alone.”

your eyes flick up. “company policy?”

his jaw flexes. “common sense.”

where was that sense ten minutes ago? your fingers tighten around the papers. every muscle in your body tightens with frustration. you give him a tight-lipped smile. then you leave and you don’t look back. if you weren’t afraid of being ruined, you’d slap him right there, quit, and then spit on his name plate as you left the building. instead, you walk toward the elevator.

it isn’t until you’re downstairs that your phone buzzes again with a calendar alert. he’s scheduled a meeting with you. it’s early, before the floor even fills, before the office walls are bouncing with phone calls and rustling papers.

7:45 am

subject line: “deck review.”

no location. no notes.

you stare at it longer than you should, thumb hovering over the screen like maybe you’ll reread it, like maybe the subject line might change. it doesn’t.

deck review. 7:45 am.

your lips curl—just barely. it’s not really a smile, not in the full sense of the word. more like a crack in the armor. a glitch in your restraint. the kind of reaction that shouldn’t exist at the end of a day like this, after a conversation like that.

you slip your phone into your pocket, fingers slow, deliberate. then smooth your blouse, twice, like it’ll wipe off the heat of the boardroom, the look he gave you, the threat disguised as a favor.

you tell yourself it’s just a meeting. just a routine that he’d do with anyone. but your chest feels tight, and your hands won’t stop moving.

he watches you vanish through the lobby glass, all sharp heels and too bright blouse and that storm still sitting in your eyes. he doesn’t move, doesn’t blink, just watches. for a man who’s mastered restraint—boardrooms, bloodlines, billion dollar deals—it should be nothing. you should be nothing. but there’s this flicker in his jaw, this twitch in his hand. like his body knows what his mind won’t admit yet—he’s already ruined.

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[lawsvalentine]

If you’re still taking requests may I put forward a scenario?

its been a day after you heard about Ace’s execution and to say you’ve been devastated is an understatement, huddled in the room you two once shared sobbing till your entire body ached

That is Until he shows up at your door, very bandaged and bruised, but alive. leading to some feral NSFW :3c

˖˙ Cee's Note: This is similar to a fic I wrote about Ace a while back, but this can be like the alternate version of it. I'm going to keep this PG-13, bc I don't accept NSFW requests from anons as part of my rules but i will still do as much of the scenario that you wanted. Hope you still enjoy it tho!

₊˚⊹♡ Don’t let go ~ Portgas D. Ace ₊˚⊹♡

˖˙ Angst/Fluff and a bit of suggestive content

˖˙ Gn!reader

˖˙ Post-Marineford spoilers

“I’m going!”

“No, you’re not!” Marco insisted.

The crew had begun preparations to sail towards Marineford to rescue Ace from his execution. Whitebeard’s entire fleet was about to risk their lives, fighting to save their beloved second division commander and you wanted to be right there with them.

" I can handle myself!" You move to sidestep past Marco, but his fiery blue wing devil power outstretched, halting you in your steps.

Your fiery glare was met with his sympathetic eyes. He knew you were more than capable of fighting your own battles and didn't doubt your strength one bit, but he couldn't go back on his word.

"I promised Ace that I would look out for you and keep you out of danger while he was away. That's a promise I intend to keep."

You scoffed at his words. You couldn't believe you were being sidelined out of this rescue mission all because your boyfriend and his best friend were being overprotective.

"This is such bullshit!"

"I'm sorry, Y/N" Marco lowered his wing, his devil fruit powers dissipating to his regular arm. He attempted to touch your shoulder comfortingly to which you rejected, shrugging him off.

Marco sighed. "Y/N, c'mon! There's going to be thousands of marines there, not to mention all the Admirals and Warlords will be there as well. It's too dangerous!"

"I'm not afraid."

The mention of warlords and admirals did nothing for you. The thing you were most afraid of was losing the love of your life. If you had to face the most powerful people in the sea to get to him, you would do it in a heartbeat.

"I know," Marco nodded. "Which is why I cannot risk you being there. If you were to get hurt or worse, Ace would never forgive me."

"But-"

"Y/N, enough!" Marco interrupted, "You're not going, and that's an order" Marco's voice was stern and he gave you a warning look. Even though Marco was a close friend of yours, he was still higher rank than you, being the first division commander and all.

You shake your head, betrayed he was using his rank to overrule you.

"As you wish...commander," you said coldly before storming off back to the room you and Ace shared. Yet with his absence, it felt like just your room.

You screamed in frustration, plopping on your bed face first into your pillow. You cursed Marco for not letting you go and cursed Ace for even making Marco keep that stupid promise.

You roll over on your back facing the ceiling. You were so pissed at Ace. First, he leaves you all alone so he can chase after Teach. Then, he gets captured and sentenced to be executed by the Marines and now he won't even let you fight to bring him back. But as you glance at the empty space next to you, your anger faded, and sadness took over.

You missed him so fucking much.

Despite your frustrations, you were worried sick about him. Not a second goes by where you weren’t thinking about him.

Since the day he sailed out after Teach, you spent every night alone in this very bed, missing his arms around you.

You couldn't bear the thought of losing him for good. You wouldn’t know what you would do without him. Despite your worries, all you could do is have faith in your crew and that they will bring him back safe and sound.

A tear flowed down your cheek before you closed your eyes and attempted to sleep your troubles away.

Please come back alive.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~*

It was the day of Ace's execution, and to say you were a nervous wreck was an understatement. Dark circles formed around your eyes from the lack of sleep you had the night before. You couldn't eat, stomach churning at the thought of your lover being impaled by two spears on the execution pavilion.

You had no idea if your crew were going to make it in time to stop the execution.

All you could do was wait.

Time felt like it was moving at a snail's pace the way the day dragged. Minutes felt like hours and hours felt like days. You decided to leave your room and head to the ship deck to get some fresh air. You leaned against the ship's railing, looking out at the sea, wishing you could see farther than what your eyes could see. A small shadow loomed above you for a brief moment and next thing you knew, a newspaper landed behind you. You look up to see a news coo flying off in the distance, carrying a bag full of mail.

You stare at the pile of inked papers for longer than you should have, debating whether to read it or stay ignorant to the possible truth of the battle.

This was it, you thought. Moment of truth.

You picked up the thick papers and glanced at the front page and the picture on the front instantly made you regret your decision.

On the front page was a picture of your captain, Whitebeard, standing as tall as ever, in all his glory. However, he was covered with gaping wounds and holes all over his chest and body. You gasped at the horrific image, as you read the title announcing the death of the powerful emperor of the sea.

You couldn't believe what you were reading. Whitebeard was the strongest pirate you knew, hell, he was the strongest pirate in the world! He was like a father figure to you and everybody on the crew. How could this happen?

"No...no, no, no!" you choked out as you saw the next image. There was ace face first on the ground with a gaping wound in his chest. You noticed a boy with a straw hat next to him in the image and recognized him as Straw Hat Luffy. Ace had mentioned to you that he was his brother.

You couldn't read another word as the tears weld up in your eyes, blurring your vision. You felt your legs go weak as you dropped to your knees, clutching the newspaper to your chest. Your body shook, your cries could be heard from across the ocean.

He was gone. Ace was gone.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~*

It felt like your entire world had crumbled around you. You haven't left your bed for a day after you read that dreaded newspaper. Your eyes were puffy from crying your eyes out. Your chest ached, finding it harder to breath with each choked sob you let out.

You had never experienced despair like this in your life. It felt like a piece of you died with him. Your mind kept replaying all the memories you had with him.

All the adventures you two had through the dangerous sea that was the Grand Line. All the long nights you two spent, talking about your pasts and how you two ended up on this crew.

You remembered how easily you fell for him. He was unlike anyone you've ever met.

He was so resilient. So caring and kind. Not to mention he was very easy on the eyes.

The night you two shared your first kiss still felt like a dream to you. You had no idea he felt the same way about you up until that night. The kiss was soft, yet deep and passionate, as if you both of you had longed for that moment and all your pent-up feelings were finally free.

The memory made you sigh longingly. You would do anything to kiss him again. Your fingertips grazed your lips, missing the feeling of your lover's lips against yours.

Suddenly, a sharp knock sounded throughout your empty room, startling you upright on your bed.

"Y/N, it's me!"

Your eyes widened at the voice behind your bedroom door. You knew that voice anywhere, but it couldn't be. You saw the paper, unless...

Even though you were confused, you hastly scrambled off the bed, trying not to stumble on your way to the door. You opened it and was met with a face you thought you would never see again.

"Ace?" you gasped, looking at the man in front of you as if he was a ghost. And considering the state your boyfriend was in, he might as well of been a ghost.

There in front of you was your lover, slightly hunched over, with one arm holding his bandaged chest, cuts and bruises around his entire body.

He looked like he quite literally came back from the dead.

"My god, Ace," you sighed, touching his face and examining all his wounds.

"Oh this?" Ace chuckled slightly, then grimaced in pain as your hand brushed over a particular wound.

"Yup, just a scratch," he grunted.

Only Ace would joke at a time like this. You missed his poor timing and cocky sense of humor.

You snorted at him. "Please, you look like hell."

"Ouch," Ace jokes sarcastically. "Not the kind of compliment your boyfriend wants to be greeted with after being gone for months.”

Even as battered and injured as he was, he still managed to be the same Ace you knew and loved. After all this time apart, it felt like nothing changed. Your eyes started to well up with tears, smiling as you let out a giggle through your sob.

"Fuck, I missed your dumb ass"

You smashed your lips against his, both your hands cupping his face. You two melted in each other, stumbling back into your room. The kiss was deep and passionate, all your emotions pouring into the kiss.

It was all so surreal for you. There were so many questions left to be answered on how this could be and what exactly happened at Marineford. But in this moment, none of that mattered. All that mattered was that he was alive and back in your arms.

You two made your way to the bed, never breaking the kiss. Your back was to the bed and Ace's body hovered on top of yours. He broke the kiss to pepper kisses on your neck. You could feel his hands grip your exposed skin of your thighs. As much as you wanted him, you were still aware of how injured he was.

"Ace, you're hurt. Maybe you should get some rest"

"I don't care bout that," he said, with a smile. "I missed you, Y/N”

He proceeds to kiss your lips again, making your concerns vanish and your desires flow into him. He would mumble "i miss yous" and "I love yous" in-between kisses. You wrap your arms around him, afraid if you were to let go, he'd be gone again.

You don't ever want to let go.

[demonpiratehuntress]

baby (name)! (Straw Hats + Ace, Law, Kaku)

featuring - Zoro x F!Reader, Law x F!Reader, Kaku x F!Reader, Ace x F!Reader, Sanji x F!Reader, Usopp x F!Reader, Luffy x F!Reader

summary - you somehow get turned into a baby and they have to spend 24 hours babysitting you

warnings - none, except that Law's is a bit longer

a/n: just an idea that's been sitting with me for a while, I'm thinking about giving each of them a full-length one-shot on this idea

ZORO

"Shhh, he's sleeping! Maybe we can get past without him noticing."

Zoro was, in fact, not sleeping. He was pretending, just to see what kind of scandal or shenanigan Luffy - or you - got the crew into. He was about to say something, until the cry of a baby rang out. Everything and everyone stilled, the only sound being the wind whistling through the night air.

"Why the hell did I just hear a baby?" Zoro's gruff voice made the crew stiffen. The swordsman stood up and turned to face them, his eyes widening at the sight of the infant in Nami's arms. "What is that?"

"A baby!" Luffy cried cheerily, poking your tiny, chubby cheeks. "Isn't she cute! It's (Name)!"

The others all swatted at the captain as Zoro's entire body went rigid, his gaze flitting from Luffy to baby you. For a scary moment, nobody said anything, and then you saw Zoro and squealed happily and reached for him. Zoro would never admit it out loud, but his heart melted.

"I think she wants you," Usopp suggested.

Zoro smiled, surprising everyone, and scooped you into his arms. You got even more excited and giggled cutely, making grabby hands at him until he set you against his chest and you immediately fisted his shirt in your tiny hand. You gurgled softly, and Zoro found it hard to keep his composure.

He found out from Robin that this was a 24 hour issue, and you would all have to babysit infant you for that time. Zoro was, however, more than happy to do all the babysitting. He played with you, he fed you, and he napped with you. Not unlike you as a fully grown person, Zoro spent all of his time with you.

"Zoro can I-"

The swordsman damn near hissed at Luffy when the captain tried to hold you, but eventually let him under the condition that Zoro stayed to watch every second. And no stretching. He was super protective of you, because you were small and helpless and the cutest thing he's ever seen- he stopped himself before he could gush again. Who ever thought Zoro capable of gushing?

As Zoro held you in his arms while feeding you later on that day, you gazed up at him with the biggest (eye colour) eyes ever, pure innocence. He smiled gently, cradling you close to him as he cooed at you and made you giggle. He even burped you, which surprised everyone because no one thought he'd know what to do.

"Who's the cutest little baby?" He cooed when no one was around, tickling your little stomach. You giggled and blew a raspberry, raising your arms and kicking about excitedly. He grinned and pressed a gentle kiss to your small forehead. "That's right, sweetheart. You are."

He fell asleep that night with you comfortably nestled in his big arms, your small body curled up against his chest. When you woke up the next morning, you grinned widely at him.

"Let's have a baby."

ACE

Ace had just returned from a mission. He was grumpy and exhausted and all he wanted to do was see you and kiss you and hold you. He hadn't expected to walk past Marco's room and hear a baby crying.

"Shhh, shhh, it's okay," Marco was saying softly. "You have to be quiet, (Name)."

(Name)?!

Ace burst through the door, his eyes wide and frantic. When he couldn't spot you anywhere, his gaze fell to the fussing infant laying on Marco's bed. His jaw dropped, and Marco looked at the 2nd division commander a bit nervously.

"Is that my girlfriend?" Ace blinked, walking over slowly. Then he grinned widely, "She's so cute!!"

The moment you heard and saw Ace, you stopped crying and immediately squealed excitedly and tried to reach for him. You pouted and kicked your legs, whining adorably.

"You're not going to ask what happened?" Marco raised an eyebrow as Ace picked you up excitedly.

"No, as long as it's not permanent," he answered with a smile as he admired your tiny face and all your extra small features. He felt warm inside as he held you, warmer than usual, and he almost burst into flames when you grabbed his nose in your tiny hand. "Marco! Did you see that??"

He is SO excited. He is great with you, especially when it comes to entertaining you and making you giggle and laugh loudly. You are such a happy baby and Ace LOVES it, he's always doing tricks and doing silly things to make you laugh and kick your legs excitedly. He is absolutely in love with you as an infant, and he learns quickly how to feed you and bathe you because he is just so excited to have a baby to look after, even if it's only for a day. It makes him want one with you.

You're also a naughty baby.

"(Name) no!" Ace yelped when he saw you crawling towards his food as he set you on the table. What did he get? A bunch of food in his face as you laughed so loudly and so adorably the crewmembers around you all stopped to coo at you. "You naughty little-" You stopped laughing and your bottom lip trembled and your eyes got glossy and he panicked, "No no I'm sorry! You're a good girl!" You instantly bubbled with happiness again, and Ace sighed in relief.

You were a handful. You kept him on his feet, and he quickly learned that taking care of an infant was hard work. And it was exhausting. At the end of the day, he laid back on his bed and put you on his stomach, watching you drift off into slumber before he fell asleep.

He woke up to you smiling in his face, "Babe, I want a baby."

LAW

Law was so busy with work that he didn't end up going onto the island with you and the others. He figured you'd be safe with Bepo, Shachi and Penguin, since they exhibited such fierce protectiveness over you at any island the crew went to. Unfortunately, something had gone wrong, and you had been turned into an infant for 24 hours, and they knew Law would kill them all if he found out. They were hoping that he would be too busy for 24 hours to notice.

Unfortunately, Law came looking for you.

"Shachi, where's (Name)?" The captain cornered Shachi as he was returning from the kitchen. "You're all back, but she's not."

"She-she is," he stammered nervously, "I think she's sleeping with everyone else in the bunkhouse." Lying to Law was not easy, because he saw through it all. But before he could, a loud squeal met his ears. The squeal of an infant.

Law's eyes widened, "What...is that?"

"No no captain!" Shachi ran after the doctor as he followed the noise to the bunkhouse, and slammed the door open to see Bepo holding up a baby and cooing at it.

A baby girl.

When you saw Law, you giggled and clapped your tiny hands, blowing a raspberry and then sneezing. Law's jaw dropped, but he was conflicted. He couldn't decide if he wanted to strangle his crewmates, or cuddle the cutest baby he had ever seen. You whined and fussed when he didn't come closer, holding your tiny arms out. Law's eyes widened, and he backed away.

Big mistake.

You started bawling, screaming loud enough to wake the entire submarine. Penguin thrust you into Law's arms so you would stop, and when you saw you were close to Law you stopped crying and giggled innocently, reaching for his face.

"Captain, are you sure-"

"I'll be fine," Law assured Shachi, even though he was extremely nervous. "She'll never let you sleep if I don't take her." That was his excuse, but he was happy to take you away to his room and enjoy your cuteness privately.

But Law did not know what to do with you. He just sat at his desk with you on his lap, staring at him. He was staring back, and after a few minutes you giggled again and bounced on his leg. You clapped your small hands and then reached for his face, and he leaned down to give it to you, just so you could squish his cheeks and let out the cutest laugh that made him relax and smile gently.

He tried to keep you occupied, but ultimately realised that you were more interested in him than you were anything else. So he held you as he worked, and he had to admit it was a nice feeling because you were just so adorable. He read to you and told you stories and you enjoyed them so much you gave him a big sloppy kiss on his cheek.

Eventually Law became the official babysitter, as he wouldn't let anyone else touch you. Except Bepo. But even then, he'd let the bear hold you for a few minutes and watch anxiously because he had gotten so protective over you. You loved it when Bepo played with you, because he was so big and soft and gentle, but you also loved it when Law played with you. Granted, his definition of playing was a bit different, but you seemed to enjoy it. So much so that you fell asleep on him out of tiredness at the end of the day, fisting his shirt in your small hand. He smiled and held you close as you slept.

When you woke up, you were back to normal and opened your mouth to say something, but Law beat you to it, "We should have a baby."

KAKU

You don't know how it happened and neither did he. One moment you were engaging the target, and the next you were a little infant crawling around on the floor. This sent Kaku into panic mode, and he quickly took out the devil fruit user who'd de-aged you before picking you up, his eyes going wide at how tiny and fragile you were. But...he had to admit...you were adorable. Your big (eye colour) eyes were so full of innocence and wonder that his heart warmed and melted.

Then you gripped his long nose, and with a strength he didn't know babies had, tugged. He groaned at the sensation, but couldn't be mad at you since you giggled so cutely and smiled so sweetly. Your mouth was toothless, and that made you even cuter. He sighed. What was he going to do?

Ultimately, he had no choice but to take you back to HQ. The others were stunned by seeing a baby you nestled in his arms, comfortably napping on his shoulder. They had so many questions, but Kaku waved them all off and took you straight to his room. He didn't want to ask Khalifa for help, since he thought that might be sexist. So he tried his best, smiling down at you as you gurgled and watched him with one small hand in your mouth and the other playing with one of your tiny feet.

"You're so cute," he suddenly said out loud, even though he knew you couldn't understand him. But it seemed you did, because you giggled and raised your arms for him to pick you up.

Kaku carries you around like his child all day, taking care of you as best he could. He didn't do too bad of a job, since you clung to him happily and didn't want to go anywhere near anyone that wasn't him. You gave him a sloppy kiss on his long nose when it accidentally poked your little stomach, just to tell him it was okay. He fed you what soft food he could find, changed you with what little knowledge he had of babies, and played with you with anything safe that could be used as a toy without hurting you.

But his favourite moment of all was when he turned into a giraffe just to see how you would react, and instead of being scared you squealed excitedly and reached up to grab his little horns. You giggled and laughed as he played with you in giraffe form, your cutest laugh coming out when he playfully licked your chubby cheek with his long purple tongue. You accidentally grabbed it and pulled, like his nose, making him yelp in pain while you just giggled.

If Kaku was protective of you before his protectiveness surged to whole new levels with infant you. Like when Jabra almost stepped on you, Kaku kicked him so hard he went flying into the wall. Then he picked you up, relieved, and kissed you all over while Jabra groaned and passed out.

"Nothing and no one will hurt you while you're like this, (Name)," Kaku whispered, patting your back gently. You just giggled and offered him a toothless smile before yawning, prompting Kaku to gently rock you to sleep.

Later on, when you finally awoke in your grown up form, you looked for Kaku and beamed, "I think it's time we made a mini Kaku."

LUFFY

Honestly, he doesn't even know how it happened. And he was there. One minute you were a fully grown woman, and the next you were a tiny baby who couldn't even stand on two legs. Luffy is immediately overprotective, scooping you up and running back to the ship with you to show everyone else. He thinks you're the cutest thing in the world, and while he loves the older you, he also loves this smaller version of his favourite person in the world.

"Zoro! Sanji! Nami!" Luffy rattled off the names of everyone on the crew, jumping onto the ship with little you tucked safely in one arm. Everyone's jaws dropped.

"Luffy, what-"

"Look!" He excitedly held you out for everyone to see. "Little (Name)! Isn't she so cute?" He then cradled you against his chest again and smiled happily.

Everyone was thinking the same thing. There was no way Luffy could be trusted to babysit you on his own, and they didn't even know what happened. This was bad, but the captain didn't seem to have the same issues.

"WATCH HER HEAD!"

The last person everyone expected to yell at Luffy, yelled at Luffy. Zoro lunged forward to shield your head from a potential bump against the mast, after Luffy got a little too excited and stretched you further away than he anticipated. Luffy apologised when Zoro hit him hard on his head, but you seemed to enjoy the violence and you laughed when it happened. Both Luffy and Zoro looked at you, and then Zoro smirked and smacked Luffy again. Infant you laughed even harder than the first time.

This gave everyone else the same idea.

Pretty soon, everyone was taking a chance to punch or smack Luffy, and you were giggling and laughing so much that you fell on your back on the table you were placed on for safety. Everyone cooed when they saw this, before Luffy lifted you up again. He was bruised, and had bumps in some places, but he was still grinning at you.

"Baby (Name) is even cuter when she laughs!"

You reached for his face and he moved it closer, and you patted his cheek with your tiny hand as if trying to soothe his injuries. He smiled even more and watched you with bright eyes, everyone else melting as you tried to make his sores go away. You were pouting with the effort, until you discovered that his face was stretchy when you pulled his cheek. You burst into another fit of giggles, and started pulling all over his face. Luffy just laughed, thinking it was funny that you thought his stretchy skin was a toy.

So Luffy was allowed to babysit you, because he was apparently your favourite toy, but he was strictly supervised by at least one person every hour. The crew took turns, and by the end of the day you were passed out peacefully in Luffy's arms. He was smiling down at you with love and amazement in his eyes, as if he couldn't believe something so cute existed.

You woke up the next morning knowing about all of Luffy's near misses with you, but smiled and told him, "You need a little help babe, but I'd love to have your baby."

SANJI

Sanji left the group alone for a few minutes to get some much-needed ingredients and food stock for the ship. A few minutes. What trouble could you guys have gotten into in a few minutes? A lot, apparently, because Sanji came back to see Zoro holding a little infant girl.

Wait a second...

"(NAME)?!" The cook cried, rushing forward to pluck you out of the swordsman's arms and cradle you in his own. He glared at Zoro, "What happened?!"

"Luffy picked a fight with a devil fruit user," Nami sighed, "He de-aged (Name) before Luffy finally knocked him out. It'll last abiut 24 hours, according to what he said, she's stuck like that for a bit."

Honestly, Sanji didn't mind at all. He was finding this tiny you absolutely adorable, and when you looked up at him with your big, round (eye colour) eyes, he almost fainted. You were the cutest thing alive, and he wasted no time peppering your tiny chubby face with kisses, reveling in the giggles and gurgles that escaped you. You kicked your little legs happily and hugged his head, and Sanji all but melted. Your arms were so small, and barely wrapped all the way around his head.

"As cute as this is, we should get back to the Sunny," Usopp looked around nervously. "We don't want to pick more unnecessary fights."

Nami agreed, smacking Luffy on the head, and you laughed as Sanji carried you away with hearts in his eyes. You stuck your tiny hand in your mouth to suck on, and relaxed in the cook's arms as you looked around in wonder. The first thing he did back at the ship was prepare something for you to eat, and he happily fed you and dealt with you smacking the spoon and sending food flying all over the place. Mostly onto his face and in his hair.

"Come on, my sweet little one," he cooed, trying to coax you into eating the next spoonful, "Just go ah for me, please cutie?" He pleaded, demonstrating by opening his own mouth.

You giggled and opened your mouth for him and he slid the spoon into your mouth, before pulling it back out when he was sure you'd taken the food. Then you spat it out at him and laughed so hard you almost rolled backwards, and Sanji realised you were doing that to tease him. Naughty baby.

He smiled gently, "You're cute when you're naughty too!" And continued feeding you. It took him close to an hour, but he got it done. Then he changed you with help from Nami and carried you around the ship, telling you stories about the All Blue and the Grand Line as you chewed on his tie. Well, more like gummed on it, since you didn't have teeth. That spot was soaking by the time you were done, but he didn't mind. He simply kissed your little cheek and tickled your stomach, calling you a good girl before rocking you to sleep gently when he noticed your eyes drooping.

"Sanjiiiii, let's make a babyyyyyy!" Was what the crew heard from you when you woke up.

USOPP

"I LEAVE YOU GUYS ALONE FOR ONE MINUTE AND-"

Usopp's shouting was interrupted by a loud infant cry, stunning the sniper into silence. Nami just laughed nervously, trying to make an excuse for that noise but when Usopp pushed past her to see what they were hiding she knew all was lost. Usopp's jaw dropped, because he hasn't thought it could get any worse.

Baby you stared up at him innocently from Brook's lap. The musician was surprisingly good with you, singing to you softly to soothe your raging baby moods. The minute you spotted Usopp, your eyes lit up and you bounced up and down on Brook's thigh excitedly, reaching out for the sniper.

"M-me?" Usopp pointed to himself, shocked.

"That's (Name), you idiot," Sanji grumbled, but his gaze softened when he looked at you in your tiny form.

"(Name)?!" Usopp cried, before immediately lifting you into his arms. You gurgled happily and reached for his goggles, giggling when you tapped on the eyeholes. "What-"

"Don't ask," Zoro grumbled.

Usopp stared at you, eyes wide. He wasn't equipped to take care of a baby yet! He needed your help! Panic was settling in, but then soon disappeared when you nuzzled against him and wrapped your small arms around his neck. He felt his knees get weak from how good it felt, and from the adorable baby smell you emitted.

"I suppose...I AM the best person to look after her," he boasted, patting your back gently. You coeed softly and patted his shoulder, as if you were agreeing with him.

Usopp is actually really good with babies, and it shows when he looks after you. He holds you properly, plays with you so nicely that you squeal and laugh loudly from all the fun, and he knows exactly what to feed you. He's so so gentle with you, and he showers you in affection and love while trying not to faint from how adorable you are when you laugh and clap your little hands.

That is, until you steal one of his tools or contraptions and start hitting him with it or throw it at him. His butt is suddenly on fire, and he's running around yelling for water while you cackle and howl with laughter, amusing everyone else as well. He forgives you of course, kissing your chubby cheek and showing you how to properly use them, before noticing you dozed off against his chest. He smiles softly and lays down so you can sleep comfortably.

In the morning, you wake him up with kisses all over his face and a bright smile on your lips, "You know, I think it's time the crew got a new member~"

[lyjen]

No Way Out | Evan “Buck” Buckley

Summary: When the 118 responds to a call with the mission to pull out the last victim, Evan splits up from the team to sweep the last floor. The victim turns out to be the sniper, with the goal to shoot firefighters. (Y/n) is a stubborn cop who goes against orders from captain Nash and still tries to save Evan from the shooter.

Request: @lizwinchester16

Taglist: @oliviah-25 @shauna-carsley

Feel free to send in request in my “Ask me a question” section! 🩷

9-1-1 Masterlist

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

With his eyes focussed onto the burning building through the window of the firetruck, Evan placed his hand onto the lever of the door. He pulled the lever and stepped out of the truck.

When he felt the asphalt underneath his boots, he placed his helmet on his head. “Dispatch said there’s a single victim inside named Ethan.” The voice of his captain snapped him out of his thoughts and got him back to reality again.

Buck watched his captain walking in front of him. “Miller, Ravi, hook us up to some hydrants. Start hitting it from out here.” Bobby said as he pointed at the hydrants he spotted from where he was standing.

Bobby turned around to the rest of his crew, “Hen, Chim, Buck, you’re going in” he commanded the last three of the crew. Buck nodded as a small “Copy that” fell from his lips.

It was weird being on scene without his best friend, it just felt wrong. Like there was some kind of empty void that couldn’t be filled, not by anyone. Knowing Eddie was in that awful hospital room, Buck guessed he was already crawling the walls by now.

Evan turned on his heels as he made his way to the correct compartment of the fire truck. He clicked the door of the compartment open as he claimed one oxygen tank and mask.

With one knee connected to the asphalt and the other leg at a ninety degree angle, he put the helmet on the ground in front of him. He pulled the straps over his shoulders so the oxygen tank would hang on his back, and placed the mask on his face as he adjusted the straps. When the mask was fully connected to his face, he placed his helmet back on.

“Ready?” Hen asked as she was waiting on the two guys from her team finished prepping their gear. “Let’s go!” Buck yelled, trying to make his voice audible through the mask.

They made their way through the doors, as they started to sweep the first floor, looking for the last and only victim. The ground floor was empty, as well as the first floor.

“Ethan! Are you in there?” Hen’s muffled voice sounded through the second level of the building. Followed by Chimney’s voice, “LAFD!“ he yelled as all three of them swept the second floor. “Ethan!” Chimney added as he was determined to find the lost man in the fire.

“No sign of Ethan here!” Hen concluded as they came together at the staircases. “Dispatch said he might be unconscious.” Buck reminded the other two firefighters. ”I’m heading up to three!” Buck continued as he glanced at the staircase that went up to the last and final floor.

“Are you sure?” Chimney asked. “Trust me! I will be in and out in a second, like a ninja.” Buck answered his brother in law. “Copy that Buck!” Hen spoke up, “Let us know if you need something” she added as the two of them took a few steps on the staircase that led them to the ground floor. “Copy that Wilson” Buck smirked at her, he knew she hated it when he used her last name instead of “Hen”.

Buck made his way up stairs, on the wooden staircase. He had to work fast, the fire was spreading, the entire building was almost existing out of wood. When he reached the last step, he took one second to focus, and with one hard kick he broke the door open.

Evan took a second to scan and take in the scene he entered just now. The entire level was filled with smoke, making it hard to see further than 3 meters.

“LAFD! Anybody up here?” His voice roared over the third floor, he called out as loud as he could. He was trying to make himself intelligible through the oxygen mask he was wearing. He carefully tried to make his way through the smoke, trying to find their last victim.

“LAFD!” he yells again, but gets caught by surprise as he gets interrupted by his radio. “One eighteen, we have a direct order to evacuate the building” May’s voice sounded through the radio that was clipped onto Buck’s fluorescent jacket.

Evan’s eyebrows furrowed at the request from dispatch. “Evacuate? On whose authority?” He heard his captain’s voice ask over the radio. “LAPD” May answered as Evan made his way through the space.

“Ethan!” He called out again, but just as he was losing faith, he spotted two legs sticking out beside a small wall. He quickly made his way towards the person, “LAFD! Sir, can you hear me?” He asked as he crouched down next to the victim.

He touched the man’s body, but it didn’t feel like a body. His eyebrows were in a frowning position as he could feel something was off. When he pulled the body slightly off the ground and took a look at its face, he realized it was a mannequin.

Immediately Evan drops the body and he straightens his legs again. He was turning on his heels, but during that spin he could hear a gun load. Within a blink of an eye he was standing eye to eye with the shooter.

There was a few feet of distance between Evan and the gun. Ethan. This had to be Ethan.

Slowly Evan showed his hands, telling him without any words that he didn’t mean any harm and that he was unarmed.

“Come in Buck!” Chimney’s worried voice sounded over the radio. “H-Hey, I just want to talk.” Evan said with a trembling voice as he could feel the adrenaline rushing through his veins. He could feel his mouth suddenly go dry. “Buck, respond!” Hen said. “Call them back in here” Ethan said as he had his eyes deadlocked onto Buck, and motioned with his head towards his radio where the voices came from.

“Buck, what’s your twenty?” Bobby’s voice filled the small spot of silence as Buck was in his mind digging for an answer of what to do. “Do it” Ethan said, determination overtaking his voice. “I-I can’t do that. I can’t give o-orders. I’m just a firefighter.” Buck stuttered.

“Call ‘em in! Tell them you broke your leg or something” Ethan said, the tone of his voice becoming darker with every word that left his lips. He took a step closer, towards the firefighter he was holding at gunpoint.

“Do it!”

-

(Y/n) pushed the gas pedal with her feet until the pedal hit the floor of the car. She had the steering wheel in her hand, tightening her hand around the wheel as if she was trying to break the wheel.

Her eyes were deadlocked onto the road ahead of her. She could see the burning building in the street and coming closer into her vision, with the ladder from the truck of the 118 expanded until it reached the roof.

She pressed the brake, pulling to a hard, rough stop as she took out the keys with her right hand and her left hand was already on the lever from the car, clicking it open. When she stepped out of the car, she was pretty sure she could smell the burning rubber from her tires.

(Y/n) scanned the scene with her eyes as she saw Athena walking towards the 118, who were standing in a circle. When she walked towards the same group as sergeant Grant, her heart dropped down her chest as she could hear the 118 calling him over the radio.

His name was coming through over the radio over, and over again. But he wouldn’t answer.

“Ethan Copeland? He’s not a victim. He’s the sniper.” (Y/n) could hear Athena say as soon as she joined the group of people. Terrified looks were shared. As Chimney called out one more time. “Come in Buck!” over the radio.

“The sniper is LAPD?” Hen asked with confusion in her voice. “Ex-LAPD” the LAPD Deputy Chief Pate quickly corrected Hen. “After his partner quit, we realized Copeland was a problem and we removed him from duty.” the deputy chief clarified. “Now he’s making everybody pay for it” Detective Danvers added to the story.

“Anybody have any idea where inside this building Buck is?” Athena asked with her eyes locked on the burning building. “Third floor, Bravo side.” Bobby answered her question. “Somewhere around that window” He added as he pointed out at the right window.

“Buck, come in!” Hen tried again as she pressed the radio close to her mouth. The team could call his name countless times, but he wouldn’t answer. He couldn’t. Even though Ethan told him to.

“Everybody, switch to channel tac channel fifty.” the deputy chief said as he turned ninety degrees, directed to the people that belonged to the LAPD. (Y/n) placed her hand on her radio as she switched the channel with a small turn on a button.

Detective Danvers, the deputy chief and Athena gather around to make some kind of plan. But (Y/n)’s eye falls on her firefighter friend, Hen, walking away from the group.

“Hen!” (Y/n) called out to the firefighter paramedic as she ran towards Hen. Hen stopped in her tracks and turned on her heels as she heard her name fall off (Y/n)’s lips. “Yes?” Hen said as she saw the young police officer jog towards her, and stop in front of her.

“Can you get me in there?” (Y/n) asked as if it was the normallest thing in the world. Hen’s eyebrows furrowed at the request of the officer. “What? You want to go in-” Hen spoke but got cut off by (Y/n). She knew Hen would be against this idea. She was just an officer.

“Hen, if we don’t do anything. Buck is going to die in there.” (Y/n) said as a desperate expression morphed onto her face. ”You need to help me.” she added, trying to get some kind of reaction from Hen, who was just looking at (Y/n) like she was insane.

There was a silence between Hen and (Y/n), as Hen was thinking of a way to get her friend inside.

“Help you do what?” Bobby’s voice entered the conversation of the two females. (Y/n)’s head turned to the captain of the 118, “To go and get my friend” she said, determined.

“No. You’re not going in there.” Bobby instantly answered.

“Cap, with all due respect. I’ve been in that building, and it’ll be easy.” Hen started. “Cut in on the delta side, where most of the fire has been contained. She goes in and she makes her way across to bravo-” She tried to talk her captain over as she made her instructions clear.

“I understand what you’re saying Hen, but there’s one thing wrong with your plan.” Bobby said. “She will be in a fire.” He added as no one answered, and pointed out at the officer that was standing diagonally across from him.

“Put the gear on me, I’ll be protected! Trust me, I’m not going to be in there for long.” (Y/n) said, as she tried to talk him over once again. His eyes shot from Hen towards (Y/n), “No, it’s too dangerous. I don’t care if you’re wearing protective gear, you’re not trained for this!” the captain said as he made motions with his hands.

“But-” but she gets cut off by Bobby. “No buts, you’re not going in, and that’s an order!” he cut her off strictly, as he pointed at her. ”Hen let’s go, I need you to help Chim.” Bobby continued as he waved Hen over. Hen shrugged her shoulders, “sorry” she nonverbally mouthed at (Y/n) and followed her captain.

A loud sigh left (Y/n)’s mouth. Help or not. She was going in, and no one could stop her.

(Y/n) took one last look at the burning building, she had to do something. She shook her head, she wasn’t going to let this happen. She couldn’t just stay there and gawk at the window, waiting for someone to take the lead.

Determined she walked towards the firetruck as she popped open a compartment, she took a look in the compartment, but it was filled with bags. Nothing like she’d hoped for. She didn’t even know what she was looking for.

She closed the compartment again and opened the one to the side of it, revealing a fluorescent jacket, a turnout jacket.

Bingo.

She grabs the turnout jacket, and quickly shrugs it on as she closes the compartment again with her left hand. This will have to do the trick. She placed her facemask, which was hanging around her wrist, onto her mouth and placed the elastic bands around her ears.

However this might be a violation of section 14-49, she needed to do this. “Lord forgive me.” she mumbled as she made a quick prayer, looking up at the sky.

(Y/n) didn’t have an oxygen tank, so she had to improvise. And this face mask could help.

With her back pressed against the side of the firetruck, she looked over the hood, standing on her tippy toes to see if there was a free entrance.

With her eyes she scanned the scene at the moment, on the left side, detective Danvers, the deputy chief Pate and sergeant Grant-Nash who were discussing. And so were the one eighteen on the same side, (Y/n) could see Chimney pressing the radio to his mouth. They were still trying to get some kind of reaction from Buck.

(Y/n) spots the back entrance on her right. If she did this quickly, she could get through unseen and she could enter on the Delta side like Hen had told her.

She pressed her eyes closed for a quick second, as she took a deep breath as she pressed her hands into fists. There was no time to overthink this. She was doing it, even if Bobby told her off. He wasn’t her captain, she didn’t take orders from him.

“Screw it.” she whispered under her breath. She bent her knees a little to make her feet tap lighter against the asphalt, making her way towards the front of the fire truck. She peeked around towards the left side. They were still discussing.

Good.

She sneaked across the street, which was around twenty feet from the fire truck she got the jacket from. (Y/n) found the door, quickly opened it as she sneaked inside. Soundless she closed the door behind her as she scanned the space she ended up in.

A stairwell.

(Y/n) remembered Bobby telling Athena that Buck was on the third floor bravo side. Meaning she had to go up three stairs, and go straight across from the side she was on now. She could do this.

She slid her gun out of her holster from her hip and pointed it out in front of her.

The stairwell was filled with smoke, but she could see enough. Without thinking twice, she started going up the stairs. Counting every door she met, when she stepped onto the last stairs she could hear Evan and the shooter talking.

When she was over fifty percent of the stairs, she peeked through the open door frame. She vaguely could see Evan holding his hands next to his face as Ethan held him under gun point she guessed. The smoke made it hard to see what was happening.

“This is officer (Y/L/N), I’ve got eyes on Ethan.” she whispered through her radio, as she peeked through the door frame. “(Y/L/N), did you ignore my direct order to not enter that building?” Bobby asked through the radio, which was weird because only the LAPD was on tac channel fifty, but she figured he heard it from Athena’s radio. But she didn't answer, not when he already knew the answer to his own question.

Before any of the others could call over the radio, she turned the radio off. She couldn’t have any of the others communicating over the radio, not when she was that close to Copeland and Buck.

She swallowed, she was scared while the adrenaline was rushing through her body. But she couldn’t make the same mistake as a few months ago, even though she had already come further than she expected.

Ethan was on the bravo side, she couldn’t just walk straight forward towards him. She needed to make a beeline. She could go along the alpha side, or the charlie side.

As she stepped off the last step of the staircase she entered the third floor. She quickly glanced at the two choices. On the alpha side the fire was already roaring, while the charlie side had a few small flames, but mostly smoke.

Charlie side it is.

She slowly but silently sneaks along the walls of the charlie side, with her gun pointed in front of her. “We don’t get to choose who lives or dies.” she could hear Evan say, “we save everyone we can” he added, (Y/n) could hear a vibration in his voice.

He was terrified.

“You don’t have to make the tough choices, but people love you for it! And hate guys like me!” An unfamiliar voice sounded over the third floor. With every step she took, she came closer to the source.

“You think saving lifes is a hard job?” Ethan said, as she could see the silhouette become larger. She had to be quick, before he actually did something. It sounded a lot like he was tired of waiting and chatting. “Try having to take them.” he added. (Y/n) could see Ethan’s finger pressing the trigger.

She didn’t have a second to think, as she ran towards Evan and pushed him out of the way of gun point.

A loud bang sounded through the third floor, as first one dull sound took over the scene, and not a second after, another one. Evan’s eyes grew wide as he turned on his heels and saw two bodies on the ground. How didn’t he get shot?

But as soon as he saw that one of the two was wearing a firefighter jacket, he rushed towards the body. He let himself fall down onto his knees as he placed two hands onto the shoulder of the -he thought- firefighter. He carefully turned the body, but was met with an oh so familiar face he didn’t expect or hoped to see.

He stopped breathing for a second as he recognized the woman in the turnout jacket. It was (Y/n). “Oh my god-” he stumbled as he saw (Y/n)’s face, “(Y/n)” her name fell off his lips.

Why was she in here? How did she know where he was? Why was she wearing a turnout jacket? A million questions were running through his mind.

With one arm around the back of her shoulders, he held her upper body up. He was checking if she was still breathing, and he left out a relieved sigh as he saw her chest rising and her eyes fluttered open.

“Hey- Okay.. okay. You’re okay.” he tried to calm himself down as he let out a small relieved laugh and pressed his cheek against the top of her head.

A groan left her mouth as she felt the sharp sensation in her upper abdomen, she squeezed her eyes closed as she pushed her hand on the GSW.

Everything happened in a flash, Evan had so much information to take in at the moment that he didn’t know what to do or to say.

He clenched hand around the radio that was connected to his turnout jacket.

“Officer down, I repeat officer down!”

______

(Y/n) turned her key in her front door and pushed it open. “Thank you for doing this. I didn’t know who else to call.” She said as she held the door open so Buck could walk through the door frame with the two bags he was holding in his hands.

“No need to thank me, that’s what friends are for, right?” He answered, as he gave her a questioning look where to put the bags.

“You really didn’t need to help me carry my bags in, you know” she smiled as she pointed at the dining table in the middle of the room, as a sign for Buck that he could put the bags there.

“Oh I know, but I don’t think the doctor would be happy if one of those stitches came loose because of carrying these bags.” He said as he placed her bags on her dining table, and arched his eyebrows as he looked at her.

A small laugh left her mouth as she shook her head. Oh, she knew he was right. But Buck knew that once she felt good, she’d be rushing into things. He knew her too well for that.

“You want a drink?” she asks as she shrugged off her cardigan and placed it over one of the dining table chairs. “I mean if you want to, if you have nothing else to do-“ she quickly added. She didn’t want to push him into things.

Evan smiled at the way she tripped over her words, “sure” he said as he took the scene he entered. His eyes scanned a bookcase, filled with books and framed pictures.

Buck had never been inside this apartment since they met. They knew each other for eight months now, but usually they’d meet up at a bar or at his place. He had dropped her off a few times outside, when he walked her home. But he never had been inside.

“Hey can I ask you something?” Evan spoke up as he took in every detail on the pictures, and turned back around.

“Sure.” She said as she grabbed the can of ice tea out of the fridge and poured the drink into two glasses.

“Why did you do it?” He asked, as he walked back towards the dining table and placed his hands on the back of the chair. “Push me away, and catch the bullet yourself?” He added as he tried to get eye contact with her.

He could see her expression morph into an thinkful one, as she finished pouring the glasses full. But even though she had that thinkful look on her face, she didn’t answer. He pushed himself off the back of the chair and he made his way into the kitchen.

“You know there were a hundred different options.” He continued and leaned with his left hip against the counter. (Y/n) places the can into the fridge, and closes the door.

“(Y/n)?” He said her name as he didn’t get any kind of response on his words. With her back towards Evan, she closed her eyes and she took a breath. One hand was still on the door of the fridge. “I just.. wanted to help.” she sighed.

“You wanted to help..” he repeated her answer and a small scoff left his mouth. He let a hand go through his hair. “And you thought the best way to help was jump in front of that bullet?” he asked as he shook his head.

“I didn’t even have one second to think, Buck.” she said, scared to turn around, and go into the conversation. She’d rather skip this one. But here they were. “What you did was stupid, naïve and reckless.” he started. “I could’ve lost you.” he added, as he waited for her to do something, to say something. To try and win him over that this was the only and right choice.

She gathered all her courage, as she took a deep breath and turned on her heels, making a 180 degrees turn. “You could have. But you didn’t.” she said, keeping a straight face as she finally had the guts to look Evan in the eyes. “And you know what, yes maybe I am stupid, maybe I am out of my mind. But I couldn’t just stand there, waiting for orders.” she hissed, as she took a few steps closer.

“You are no firefighter! You are a cop! Why the hell were you in that building in the first place?” Evan started to raise his voice, which made (Y/n) a little scared. She never heard him yell before, hell they never even fought before.

“You really want to know why I made myself a target? Why I made the choice to jump in front of that bullet?” She asked, as she felt her hands automatically making fists.

“Yes! Please tell me.” He answered as he folded his arms over each other. “I did it because of you, and all of those people outside! I wouldn’t let any of them take that risk.” She started as she pointed her index finger at him.

“They have people, family, waiting for them to get home safe and sound.” (Y/n) added as she could feel a lump being created in her throat and the tears burning in her eyes. “I have nothing to lose.” Her voice was getting less louder with the words she spoke.

“There’s no one waiting for me.” She cried as she shook her head, and tried by squinting her eyes closed to get rid of the stinging tears. But instead of getting rid of them, they flowed down her cheeks.

“Really?” Evan started, ”Or did you do it because of what happened with Lance.” Buck mumbled under his breath.

Oh he wasn’t actually going there.

Her eyes grew slightly wider as she realized what just came out of his mouth. “Don’t-” she warned him.

“The moment you stepped inside of that burning building, and they shot him.” He continued. Trying to get to the edge. “Shut the fuck up” she hissed, with her teeth pressed against each other. She was trying to calm herself down, but the scene he used cut as deep as a knife into her skin.

He knew how much Lance meant to her, he was her brother. But once he stepped into the world of drugs and gangs, she realized how much of a red flag he actually was, and she broke contact.

But one day, when she arrived at a scene, and she entered some abandoned building, she saw her own brother getting shot, by those so known “friends”. That was now a year ago.

And the only person she had told about this, was Buck.

“Sounds like this one hit a little close to home.” He added. Her fingernails which were on the inside of her palm, still in the fists she made, were cutting into her palm. “You don’t know anything about me” she said under her breath.

A silence took over the room as Buck stopped pushing her to the edge of her emotions.

“I really thought that you’d be one of the persons who’d understand why I did what I did.” A now calmer but slightly trembling voice from (Y/n) took over the silence. She was looking at the now oh so interesting floor. “But turns out.. you’re just like them.” She added, as she looked up at Buck again, shaking her head and the tears in the corner of her eyes.

“You wouldn’t fight for your team. You didn’t do that for Eddie, and he’s your best friend.” She said, going in to attack modus now.

“You just stood there. Looking at how his body tumbled to the ground.” she continued, but the second those words left her mouth, she regretted it. This wasn’t like her. She knew Evan was only trying to make her aware of the things she did in the situation, and that she shouldn’t be acting before she thought.

He was only trying to help her.

“What now?” His voice sounded lost. Evan was aware that he said some awful things to her. And maybe involving her brother’s story wasn’t the right move, he knew that.

A feeling of rage was rushing through his body. As he was speechless, did she just really say that? Evan pushed his hip off the counter as he turned around, with his left hand against his forehead he looked up at the ceiling.

“Do you have any idea how toxic you sound right now?” He asks, as he rubbed his hand against his temple.

He turns back around to face (Y/n). “I..-” Evan stops mid sentence as he moves his left hand from his forehead towards the back of his head. And he starts laughing.

“You’re insane.” he said, as he moved and left the kitchen.

“Buck.. please I didn’t-“ but before she could even finish, she could see him leaving through the front door combined with a loud bang of the front door being smashed against the doorframe.

A sigh left her mouth as she covered her forehead with her hand. What did she do..

_______

This is four Adam twelve” she coughed through her radio as she tried to keep the smoke from entering her airways by placing her mouth in the crook of her arm.

With her hand still remaining on the radio, she scanned the room she was in now. “The fire has surrounded me.” she continued.

Yes, she was inside of a burning building, again. But this time it wasn’t burning before she entered.

She ran after a suspect for a few blocks, until he entered an abandoned building. She had called for backup, but she couldn’t risk losing the suspect. So after she called it in, she didn’t wait for backup to arrive.

She wanted to prove herself so bad to the department. She wanted to show them she could do this on her own.

But when she was checking the fourth floor, some kind of explosion roared over the level she was on.

Last time she was inside, she had a face mask, which helped with keeping the smoke out. But since she had to get out of her car and run, she didn’t have it with her this time.

(Y/n) could feel the smoke entering her lungs, making it hard for her to breathe. With every breath she took in more, and more ashes. Causing her to cough, making her head ache.

The smoke was burning in her eyes, causing tears which were protecting her eyes from the smoke and getting the suspension out of her eyes.

She couldn’t navigate over the level anymore, she was disoriented, since the fire was everywhere.

This was it. There was no way out for her. Maybe she would actually suffocate in here. She didn’t get to that suspect. This was her first shift back. Was this her karma for that fight with her friend? Her friend she was scared to admit her feelings for? The one she pushed away when he came too close? The one she broke the rules for?

“I’m on the fourth floor. I..- I don’t know where.” she gasped through the radio, trying to get in more air. She let herself fall down onto her knees as she scanned the environment once more. “Please..” she cried to herself.

Evan could hear the coughs through the radio as he was in the stairwell, just passing the second floor. He could sense the desperation in her voice as she told them she didn’t know where she was.

Chimney and Buck made their way towards the fourth floor. But he could feel his soul fade away as soon as he opened the door to the fourth level.

Flames had taken over the entire floor. “Chim, you take the right side! I will take the left!” Buck said as he pointed out to both sides. “Copy that!” Chimney answered back as he continued to sweep in the right side of the building.

The feeling of guilt was still roaring through his body. He never wanted to let things get out of hand the way it did. With his left hand he slid along the wall, following the shape of the room.

“Fire department! Call out!” Buck yelled over the floor he was on. But no reaction.

He scanned the room over and over again, he wasn’t going to miss any detail. He had to find her, and that stupid fight between the two of them wasn’t going to stop him.

“LAFD! Call out if you can hear me!” he continued. When he made his way through the room, he stopped as soon as he could swear he heard a sound. But then suddenly his eyes fell on a silhouette, kneeling down on the ground.

He squinted his eyes, trying to focus “(Y/n)!” he called out her name as soon as he could see her hands down on the ground, and so were her knees.

She tried to call out as soon as she could hear Evan’s voice in the distance, trying to locate her. But she couldn’t. She could feel herself fade away, the smoke inside her lungs was becoming too much for her. Suffocating her almost.

Her knees were burning, due to the heat that was flowing over the fourth floor. She was conscious but it was like her senses were shutting down. As if someone was turning the volume of her ears down by using a button.

But as soon as she could feel someone place a hand on her lower back and pull her arm around their shoulders, the feeling of desperation made way for relief.

She pushed herself onto her feet, as she leaned partly onto the shoulder of Evan.

“Chim, I got her! On our way out now!” Evan spoke through the radio as he held (Y/n) at her waist with his left arm and his right hand held on to her arm that was around the back of his neck. “Copy that! Leaving the building!” Chimney answered back.

“Come on, we’re almost there! You’re doing so well!” Evan told her as he guided her down the stairs and through the doors outside, which Chimney held open as soon as he saw the two coming.

Evan ripped the oxygen mask he was wearing off his face and let it hang aside his body. He moved his hand from her waist towards her shoulder, as he wanted to guide her towards the ambulance.

But suddenly (Y/n) stopped in her tracks, as she placed her hands on her thighs and bent over when she started to let out loud coughs.

The fresh oxygen was reaching her lungs now. But she could feel it burn inside of her airways. “Get off of me!” She said as she pushed Evan away, causing him to let go of her body. She spit out some saliva as she tried to control her breathing.

“Im fine!” She said, as she could feel his hand onto her shoulder again. She turned her head to the side as she glanced at him.

Tears were burning in her eyes, as her face was partly covered in ashes. “You’re not fine.” He said, as he looked at her with a worried look in his eyes.

“I just…-” she gasped as her breathing was taken over by a loud cough. “need to catch my breath” she added. “Mmm and I am Prince Charming” he said sarcastically. “Why don’t you stop being so stubborn for a second and let me help you.” He added as he searched for eye contact again.

“You’re acting like a lunatic” he said as he shook his head, and sighed at the view he had right there and then. She was practically suffocating from the smoke inside of that building he pulled her out of. “You’re running into burning buildings, making yourself an actual target, putting yourself in danger.” he continued.

“I don’t recognize you anymore. What happened to that intelligent, badass, sweet officer that I met eight months ago?” he asks as he places his right hand on his hip.

(Y/n) doesn’t say anything, but shrugs her shoulders like she’s some child getting a lecture. “What are you even doing on duty? Shouldn’t you be at home? Let that wound heal?” He said pointing out at her stomach.

“What are you? My mom?” She mumbled moody as she avoided eye contact and spit out some more salvia onto the ground.

Evan sighed, but a laugh left his mouth. It felt like the same fight all over again. It had been six weeks. Six weeks of no contact and it was killing both of them. There was an emptiness inside of them they couldn’t seem to fill.

“Don’t tell me you ignored the doctor's advice and went to work anyways.” He went on as he placed his fingers on his forehead.

He glanced at her, and she looked back at him. But when she didn't actually deny what he said, another sigh rolled from his lips. “(Y/n)..”

“You know I can’t sit still. I needed to get back out here!” She shot back in defensive mode. (Y/n) pushed herself up again, so she was standing straight.

“I'm not a doctor but from what I know, you’re not fully healed! Healing a GSW takes two to three months!” He told her as he turned around. “Please tell me you’re still talking with Dr. Sanford.” He continued.

“I have talked with her.” She started, as she placed both her hands on her hips. “One time.” she added. Making Evan instantly laugh in disbelief again. “Jesus. Seriously?”

“She doesn’t get me Buck!” Her voice was audible over the entire scene. She was talking to a person with his back towards her, almost making it look like some fight between love birds.

“I don't get it..” he started as he turned back around again, ”they’re offering their help services to you and you just don’t accept it.” he pointed at her, just to make her feel a little more guilty about the things she did.

“I don’t want help from some professional woman.” She said as she placed her hands in her hair. She felt like a crazy person. Like no one actually understood what she was saying. Was she speaking Chinese?

“Then tell me what you want. What do you need?” He stepped closer, finally after all these minutes.

She just stared into his eyes. Desperate for someone to understand her. Why was no one listening to her? “You.” The words slipped from her lips. The words she couldn’t get back after letting them out.

“I need you.” she continued. Evan’s face morphed from anger to a more calmed down one. Did she just really say that?

“You know me better than anyone else.” She added, as her eyes narrowed. “And I’m so sorry for saying those awful words. I didn’t mean it. I was a dick and I’m sorry for lashing out at you like that. The second I said those things about Eddie I regretted it but I just-“ she rattled.

“Oh shut up” he interrupted her as he took a few quick steps closer, grabbed her shoulders and pulled her roughly to his chest.

Their lips connected, and the warmth of both their bodies came together. The dried up sweat from Evan’s face combined with the ashes visible on hers.

Her body was tense, but when he crashed his lips down onto hers, she could feel her body relax. Her arms were dangling beside her body, one of Evan’s arms was pushing her lower back, and his other hand was lost on the back of her head.

Her back was bending backwards by surprise, as she held her eyes closed.

When Evan pulled back, their noses connected, and small gasps left both of their mouths. One of her hands was placed on Evan’s shoulder, as she placed the other one on his cheek.

“Uh.. okay” she mumbled in confusion. “I needed you to stop.” He gasped, as he felt her breath tickling his short hairs on his face.

“Was it.. wrong?” He asked when he couldn’t figure out by the look on her face if she wanted the same thing as him. “No” she whispered as she rubbed her thumb against his cheek. Making Evan smile.

“Okay pay up!” Hen’s voice sounded over the scene. Hen was standing at the back of the ambulance as she was holding her hand out, moving her fingers as people from the 118 placed money in her palm.

“You placed a bet on us?” Buck asked when he glanced a look to the side, and saw Hen grinning at the sight she had.

“Oh, it’s not that hard to figure out when the two of you keep fighting, hovering and risking your lives for each other.” Hen said loudly enough to reach the two of them.

[irisintheafterglow]

if he's a ghost, then I can be a phantom

summary: the strawhats are summoned back to baratie so sanji can cook for a high-class diner. they can't figure out why zoro is so nervous. (opla!zoro x you)

wc: 2k

cw/tags: swearing, mentions of food and eating, established relationship, pet names (sweetheart, doll, lover, pretty), spoilers if you squint, sanji being himself and zoro having absolutely none of it

note: this was requested by an anon a few weeks ago and i finally got around to writing it!! every time i write for zoro, i have a new favorite fic i've made because he's just so fun to write for. hope you enjoy!!

likes, reblogs, and replies are always appreciated <3

“You know, they’re a lot hotter in person.”

“Shut your mouth, waiter, or I’ll skewer it closed,” he mutters with palpable distaste. Another swig of rum burns down his throat and, for the first time that the crew can remember, Zoro seemed nervous. It wasn’t obvious, but they’d sailed long enough to know that he never stopped surveying a room for threats, no matter how familiar he was with it. Today, though, the only thing that took his attention was the rim of his glass and he was subtly avoiding the eyes of the crew’s target. “This is the dumbest idea you’ve had in a long time.” 

“Thank you for your input, Zoro. I will, however, be belaying it,” his captain replies brightly, unfazed by the blank expression of his first mate. The uneasy faces of his crew only makes him beam more, giddily excited for the anticipated challenge. “C’mon, guys. We’ll be fine. They just need to see how awesome we are and they’ll totally give us a new sail!”

“Loud, loud, too loud,” Zoro warns in response to the increasing volume of Luffy’s voice. They were already causing enough of a scene, as is, and he damn sure didn’t want other guests looking in their direction. To make matters worse, the amount of alcohol in the table’s bottle was dwindling too quickly for comfort. 

“Hey, if we’re lucky,” Usopp offers, “we might just get a whole ship. You know, maybe one that Captain Usopp can command as the second ship in the Straw Hat fleet.”

“You think we’ll get a whole fleet?”

“Hell yeah. Maybe, we can all captain our own ships–”

“Alright, let’s get our heads out of the clouds,” Nami cuts in. “We still need to figure out how we’re going to get over there, in the first place. And just for the record, I’m with Zoro on this one.” 

“First time for everything,” he deadpans. She smartly elects to ignore his sarcasm and continues to argue why the plan is a bad idea. The call from Zeff came at an opportune time and during an unfortunate situation when the Merry sailed straight into a torrential thunderstorm that ripped the main sail clean down the middle. Despite their best efforts to patch it up, it was beyond repair; with the Marines constantly on their tail, having a working sail was a matter of survival. Zeff’s reluctant summons for Sanji to cook for a special guest provided a means to buy a new sail and have a little extra spending money. But, in his wildest dreams, Zoro could not have predicted that the special guest was you. The smug look on the chef’s face snaps him out of his thoughts. “Shouldn’t you be in the kitchen, waiter?”

“Shouldn’t you be downing the rest of this bottle, drunk?”

“I’ll smash this damn bottle on your head, I swear–”

“No, no. Zoro has a point,” Luffy agrees. Sanji gives him an odd look and he quickly realizes what his statement insinuated. “Not about smashing the bottle on your head. We need you to bring them your food so then I can go over and talk with them.”

“You don’t think I can charm them on my own?” 

“Don’t look so aghast, blondie,” Zoro answers and receives a knife-sharp glare in response. “This is not someone who will entertain your theatrics.”

“How would you know anything about them, hmm? I believe you’re a little too dead inside for their liking,” Sanji baits and Zoro’s on the verge of biting before Nami steps in again. 

“Sanji, get in the kitchen. Let’s just get the money and get out of here.” Zoro silently thanks her in his head for effectively ridding the chef of the table for the time being. His gratitude turns into a grimace when she turns to him expectantly. “You’re gonna hate me for asking–”

“Then don’t ask,” he finishes. She doesn’t relent. 

“How do you know them? It seems like you’re nervous about being here, but we’ve never met them before as a crew.” Hitting the damn nail on the head. “So, you must’ve met them when you were still hunting down pirates. Am I right?” He grumbles an unreadable response, but the slightly pink shade of his face tells the table everything they need to know. “You’re terrible at covering up secrets.”

“I don’t remember asking.”

“Ah, you’ve got him on the run, now. He’s deflecting,” Usopp chuckles, immediately shutting up when Zoro shoots him a deadly scowl. He hated that all of them were right and would never admit it to save his life. After all this time, seeing you still made his heart rate skyrocket and cause his hands to clam up with boyish nervousness. You were just as beautiful as the last time he saw you, instances that were too few and far between for his own liking. Your father would have a fit if he saw you in such an unregulated environment as Baratie, but he knew that you were safe. As long as you breathed the same oxygen, he vowed no harm would come to you. 

“I met them when I first started hunting,” he admits and the words felt wrong on his tongue. Every nerve in his body was telling him to stop revealing his relationship to you. It didn’t matter if he’d almost died surrounded by his crew; his connection to you was sacred and something he was going to take to his grave. It was mostly for your safety, the late-night sneaking out and stolen displays of affection. In another life, he wouldn’t have to hide you from other hunters that wanted to see him fall. “Their father is a captain in the Marines. When I first met them, they were training with Mihawk. Their father wanted them to be the most feared Marine in the seas.” The jaws of his friends fell to the table and he knew how wild it sounded, a legacy Marine trained by a pirate lord. “But, Mihawk taught them more tricks than just swordfighting and their father fired him on the spot.”

“He taught them sympathy for pirates,” Nami concludes and he nods. “Why are you so shifty around them?” He shrugs half-heartedly and tries to make it look like his face wasn’t on fire.

“Just haven’t seen them in a while,” he states, zeroing in on the blonde asshole waltzing to you with a plate. Your surrounding guards stiffen, hands flying to the weapons at their belts. You, however, roll your eyes and tell them to stand down. He knew you hated going out with security because they were always watching, watching, watching. “Eyes up. The waiter’s making a move.” 

A strange sense of nausea washes over him as he watches you smile politely at Sanji, laughing softly at his jokes and kindly nodding as he explains the dish to you. You trust them, Zoro keeps telling himself. That waiter doesn’t stand a fucking chance. All the reassurances don’t stop his gut from churning when Sanji does his signature lean-down-and-whisper-suggestively into your ear. To his surprise, however, you don’t immediately meet the chef’s eyes. Your attention flicks to Zoro, instead, with a look that he knows all too well. 

Please get me out of this. 

Despite the protests of the table, he’s standing in an instant and walking with his hands on his swords like your guards didn’t even exist. His sight becomes tunnel-vision on nothing but you and he bypasses your guards with ease. Your shoulders relax when he stations himself protectively behind you, much to the confusion of the chef in front of you. As subtle as he can, he rests his hand on the back of your chair, inching closer until he’s just barely touching your shoulder. It’s small, but speaks wonders for his presence. 

“Zoro,” you murmur without looking up, your fingertips brushing against his knuckles. Your touch on his skin after so much time away feels electric.

“Hey, sweetheart.” Sanji stiffens at the term of endearment so easily leaving Zoro’s mouth and you can sense the boost it does for his ego. “Whatcha got there?”

“My new friend was just telling me about the dish he made. He said he crafted it especially for me, with his own hands,” you inform him with a sly sparkle in your eye. His jaw clenches unconsciously. You knew exactly what was going on in Zoro’s mind and he knew it, too. “Apparently, he can work wonders with his hands,” you remark casually and you can hear the chair crack under the force of the swordsman’s hand gripping it. To your delight, Sanji’s face has also taken on a slightly darker shade of red at how crassly you echo his suggestion. And in front of his rival, no less.

“Was he, now?” His tone is lethal and it sends goosebumps up your arms. “Well, it best be time for him to get back in the kitchen, no?”

“Mmm, but he said he had a proposal for me–”

“I had one for you too, though I did ask you in a much finer establishment than this one.” You can’t help the smirk that spreads on your face and you have to look to the side to keep from laughing aloud. Zoro’s jealousy was rearing a very indignant head; you’d be lying if you said you didn’t find it a little hot. “Got that stone on your left hand to prove it.” Sanji’s eyes darted to the band wrapped around your finger, a ring that looked suspiciously like the one hanging from a chain around Zoro’s neck. “Give us some time alone, yeah?” His question becomes rhetorical as he pulls out a chair next to you and tugs your seat closer until you can cross your leg across his. His palm rests possessively over your thigh and the chef gapes for a few moments more before turning back to the kitchen. 

“That goes for all of you, please,” you order your guards without looking at them, absentmindedly tracing Zoro’s jawline with the back of your pointer finger. “Take my bag and buy however many drinks you want. I’m safe,” you state with absolute certainty. Once they’re gone, all you see, feel, and know is him.

“Hi,” he breathes.

“Hi,” you smile just as softly. “What’re you doing in a place like this?”

“I can ask you the same question, pretty.” His eyes shine with nothing but adoration. You forgot just how much you missed him.

“Took a detour to prolong my time at sea. I didn’t want to go home just yet.”

“Your old man’s being an ass again?”

“You know how he is,” you reply. “Why are you here?”

“Believe it or not, that blonde shithead is my crewmate. We’re here to get some extra Berry for a new sail.”

“Sail, hmm? I always knew you had a little pirate in you,” you tease and he sticks his tongue out immaturely. “Heard you fought my esteemed mentor. I don’t know what the hell you were thinking.”

“You don’t think I can beat him?”

“I don’t think I can fathom what will happen if you don’t,” you say quietly, swallowing a lump in your throat. “Don’t do any dumb shit, okay?”

“You’re acting as if I’m already leaving you again.” 

“Aren’t you?” Your smile is sad and it makes his chest ache. When he beat Mihawk and killed your bastard father, he was going to give you the life that you deserved. 

“Not yet,” he promises. “I don’t wanna go yet.”

“I don’t want you to go, either. How much do you need for that sail?” He gives you a number and you don’t even blink. You just nod and reach into your coin purse, fishing around and deciding to just give him the entire pouch. “Will that cover it?”

“Doll–”

“It’s a yes or no question, husband,” you say with lighthearted sternness. He shakes his head in exasperation but can’t hide the grin painting his features. 

“Yes, lover. It’s more than enough.” He presses a kiss to your forehead and you hum in contentment. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

“Of course. D’you mind introducing me to the rest of your crew besides the flirty waiter?”

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

[bratdotcom]

Confessions of an Insomniac

curly x coworker!reader ⋆ an au where you're his coworker, and he's head over heels for you

⋆ tags : slowburn, coworkers to lovers, jimmy is mentioned like 2 times but never shown

word count : 1k+ ( and proud!! ^^ ) ⋆

⋆ taglist : @likeadeadbattery

Curly never thought he'd find himself in such a compromising position. He took himself for being a professional man. Took pride in it, too.

He was the captain, after all - your captain. Worked with you long enough to know you on a first name basis. He never truly shook off the flush that appeared on his chest whenever he called you by your actual name. He preferred calling you by your title, Doctor (L/N). It was professional. It was propriety. It was what made sense to him.

In all his years of running the Tuplar, he's never felt this way about a coworker before. It made him feel sick with sweaty palms, unable to focus.

That would explain his frequent visits to your office. But you didn't need to know that.

Curly's senses were more hyper-aware than he usually was, more than he needed for his position on the ship as you check his heartbeat with your stethoscope. "Oh, change in pulse." You comment, chuckling to yourself as you scribble that information down.

You were close. So, so close.

Curly knew the procedure. Attentiveness was expected. The way your eyes softened on him wasn't. Checkups were the norm. The way your touch seemed to linger on him like static through the corridors wasn't. He fixes the neckline of his shirt after you pull away to keep himself distracted.

"Have you been working out recently?" You hold your clipboard in your hands. Curly found it hard to tell if you were asking that question casually or professionally. You were using your doctor's voice, but you were asking him something he'd hear you ask over lunch.

Curly straightens his posture at the question to appear more put together in front of you.

"Yes, I have." He replies, though the answer was obvious. His muscles almost jumped out of the fabric of his jumpsuit. He wonders if you asked that question just to hear him say it himself.

"Usually, I do warm-ups in the morning before starting my duties..." You listen to him and nod along as he rambles on about his workout routine, not minding the lax tone of his voice.

Knowing that Curly trusted you enough not to use his captain's voice on you had to be some form of an honor, right?

Both of your words held weight. Both of you had people who looked up to you. You were both similar, in a way. Curly had you and the crew. You had Anya and him.

Curly stops his little tangent when you pick up a different colored pen and scribble more doctor's jargon onto his sheet. "That's good." You respond, eyes focused on your clipboard.

"Good?" he echoes, his face, all the way up to his ears, goes red. Pink against his skin, but red nonetheless.

He was used to people praising his routine, but it felt different coming from you.

"Yes, despite our advancements in technology, we still experience muscle atrophy." You explain, using your doctor's voice. "What you're doing helps prevent the risk." You glance towards him. "You're aware of what that is, yes?”

Curly nods, silently hoping you wouldn't comment on his appearance. "Yes, I've read about it before." He says with a bit more confidence, his hands going from his knees to his thighs.

You chuckle as you speak. "Once we get back to Earth, you won't topple over like a Jenga tower.”

Still red in the face, Curly chuckles along.

"Maybe you should get Jimmy on your little workout regiment, too."

Curly knows he shouldn't laugh at the jab you just made at his second in command, but a little good-natured ribbing never hurt anybody, right? You were joking, weren't you?

“Don't tell him I said that."

You whisper, leaning in to add emphasis to your words.

He smiles, letting out a small chuckle of approval. He eases his tone, feeling less stuffy the longer you went on with your playful jabs at his best friend. "Don't worry, Doctor (L/N)." He reassures you, his hand on the table. "I promise you, I won't tell him a thing. It'll be our little secret." Curly adds an almost teasing tone in his voice.

He relishes in the reaction you gave him. The subtle flush of your cheeks told him everything he needed to know.

You didn't mind breaking the lines between camaraderie and fraternity.

Maybe you did, maybe you didn't.

Maybe Curly was just too deep in his head, too caught up in the version he had of you.

Blinded by your smile and the way you laughed at his jokes. Curly wonders if you feel the same way as him. Saw the same version of him that he had of you.

Curly watches as you work in pure concentration, your eyes glued to your clipboard, pen cap pressed to your chin. He takes in the sight, secretly glad that you were distracted. He had the chance to do nothing but stare, admire you as you worked.

You break your concentration to speak.

"You don't have to keep calling me doctor, you know. You have the bragging rights to call me Doc."

Curly smiles ruefully at your words. He should tamp his feelings down now, shouldn't he? He had to prove that he still had control. That he was the one in charge.

Mostly for himself, not you.

"I suppose you're right." He shrugs, trying to keep his tone neutral as he gazes away to focus his eyes elsewhere. "Bragging rights, huh?" Curly says softly to himself, still smiling.

Luckily, you don't hear the way he fondly repeats your words.

"Are we still up for our little date, captain?" The way you lean in to speak makes him want to look anywhere but you. The phrasing you used made him feel all warm in the chest again.

You were going to be his downfall. All the hard work, the excruciating hours he put into getting where he was now, was just one word away from going completely down the drain.

All because of you.

"You really shouldn't call it that." Curly rubs the back of his neck like a nervous teen. Awkward and clammy. At least now he wasn't as pink as a baby mouse. "Wouldn't want the rest of the crew getting the wrong idea, would we?"

You lean back and let out a laugh, sounding as though you didn't have a care in the world.

"Yeah, you're right. Doing nails isn't much of a date anyway."

Your words sting Curly, just a bit. There was a wordless form of intimacy behind doing someone's nails of someone you loved. Carefully holding the other person's hand in yours. Trusting them enough for your hold to go limp in theirs.

You even get the right to tell others that you had the privilege of having someone else do your nails.

Bragging rights, as you playfully put it. Perhaps he was looking into it too much.

Curly mirrors your movements, his eyes temporarily flick to your hands as you speak. You had nice hands, compared to his. He'd never voice his opinions to your face, of course. Never. It'd be unprofessional of him. More than he was already. He felt guilty, thinking of you in such a way.

The thought of being alone with you strangled all competence out of him. The smell of your shampoo clouded his senses. You, you, you.

All he could think of was you.

"Trust me, Jimmy's not gonna crucify you for wearing some clear coat, Curly."

Your breath mingles with his as you do his nails, his knees were starting to hurt from sitting on the carpeted floor of the conversation pit, but he wasn't complaining at all. He appreciated the level of care you put in as you held his hand. It was endearing.

Curly looks down at his hand, his head tilted at an angle.

"What is a clear coat?" he asks, genuinely wondering what exactly you were applying to his nails. He probably should've asked that before allowing you to do this.

The small grin that appears on your lips when you hear his question makes him completely forget that what you were doing together wasn't a date. That what you were doing was just a favor between coworkers.

With a flick of your hand, you reply. "A clear coat keeps it all shiny and neat. Feels nice, huh?" Curly nods to your question, careful not to move too much as you hold his hand in yours.

"Keeps your nails from chipping, too. Wouldn't we want that, would we, Captain?"

The way your eyes flit up to him almost makes him turn red. He could've sworn he heard a teasing tone in your voice.

"No, not at all, Doc." He replies, looking down at his nails. The changes were subtle. But you were right. It felt nice.

He pretends to admire the way his nails look in the artificial moonlight, when in reality he's looking at you.

"Better waste of time than staring at those pixels, right?"

Curly remembers your words from earlier. Your promise to do his nails as the rest of the crew slept. Two insomniacs against the unrelenting pull of space. Just you and him.

He wonders if your promise was just some flimsy excuse to get him alone with you.

"Right." He repeats, voice softening.

"Captain." You scoot closer to him, your knees touching his.

Your arm brushes against his, just like it did whenever you crossed paths in the halls.

"When this is all over... I wouldn't mind seeing you outside of work."

It takes him a moment to catch on to your words. His own words catch in his throat. The walls of the ship felt more suffocating than they usually did.

"I'd like that." He responds.

Carefully, as if you'd break in his hands, he slots his fingers in between yours. He tests your reaction by squeezing your hand. When you squeeze back, he smiles.

He leans in but doesn't kiss you.

"I'd like that a lot." He adds, his other hand going to your shoulder.

Again, Curly looks at you. Deep in thought as he takes in the way you looked at him. Lost in your eyes, he almost doesn't hear what you're saying.

You looked happy, as if a weight was finally lifted off of your chest.

His eyes widen when you lean in to kiss him.

He tenses up, not expecting you to do the first move. As quickly as you pull in, you pull away. Short and sweet. That's all he needed to know you felt the same.

You were red in the face, just like him.

His thumb brushes over your skin. Curly always tried to see the bigger picture.

He never thought you'd be a part of it, too.

[ghostybaby000]

Back by 6 | Part 1

Part 2

Word count: 1.3k

Warnings: 18+, PTSD, symptoms of panic, general violence, blood, fighting,

Part two above!

Tag List: @yyiikes @talooolaaloolla @strawberrygato @cumsluut @sofiacoppolaslut @blackbeautyiloveyouso @casalucard @identity2212 @daydreamerwoah @lily-bug3 @sage-burrow

Ghost and his beloved shepherd Riley make their way in a search vehicle to an abandoned city. This city had just been through an attack and the crew had been sent out to find any survivors. Little does Ghost know, he’s in for more than he’d expected.

‘C’mon then let’s get to it.’ Ghost opens the door as Riley leaps out of the seat, nose dripping with anticipation. 

The rest of the groups divided to search towards the inner city while Ghost and Riley began searching the side that held more homes and complexes. Riley trotted ahead of Ghost as he made his way into the first and closest home. 

The door creaked open as Ghost stepped in. Dust fell from the ceilings and broken furniture littered the floor. Ghost clicked on his flashlight and made his way through the building as Riley smelled the air, low to the ground in search of anything useful. 

‘Is anyone in here?’ Ghosts voice sounded dull in the small space as he made his way over remnants of someone’s previous home. Riley weaved under the kitchen table and behind the disturbed couch, stopping to look to Ghost, waiting for his next command. He called out once again before making his way back out of the home, shutting the door behind him. 

He made his way through more homes in similar and worse conditions, broken widows and abandoned cars being nothing new. In the midst of exploring a home his radio buzzed as Price spoke. 

‘How are we looking out there?’ Ghosts hand found the button as he responded.

‘Haven’t found anyone cap.’

The silence resumed as Ghost and Riley scoured the home, calling out for any sign of life. There was a shuddering noise that had Ghosts gun drawn in seconds. Riley lowered himself, looking in the same direction from behind Ghost, trying to locate the source. Ghost made his way silently through the home, around a corner to see blinds, clashing as the wind poured into the hollow home. Ghost lowered his gun and continued his search. 

He stepped out into the now setting sun, letting Riley out of the home before shutting the door and reaching for his radio.

‘This areas been searched-nobody’s here.’ He turns to start walking away when Riley turns his head, looking back to Ghost and to the location. Ghost squints through the sun and sees what could be a home, just a little ways away from the homes he was searching. 

‘Alright then lets regroup at the vehicles and make our way back. No telling what could be sticking around here.’ Price called out, pulling his attention from Riley.

Ghost looks down to Riley, who’s sat in the direction of the home and is staring back at him as if refusing to leave. Ghost sighs as he reaches for his radio once more.

‘I’m going to look in one more home, Riley seems to have a feeling. Leave a car for us and I’ll meet you back at HQ.’

‘Loud and clear’ The radio clicks off as he gestures for Riley to lead the way, the dog standing up and trotting towards the home. 

The wind began to pick up as they approached, the dust and debris making it harder to see a way inside. This home was in shambles compared to the rest, and from what Ghost could tell it was caved in, and in more than one location. He heard Riley bark from behind the house, walking around he finds a door. Locked. 

Riley backs away watching Simon as he kicks in the door, fragments of wood splintering as he and Riley moved inside. He closed the door behind him, the noise of the wind dying down. Riley shook to rid of the dust, before looking to Ghost to watch his for next move. 

‘Is there anyone in here?’ He walked into the small living room, his ears straining for any response. Nothing. He nods his head towards Riley giving permission to search the rest of the home. Getting towards the kitchen and bedrooms he sees a hole in the roof, where concrete had fallen, leaving massive pieces of the building in his way. He turns when Riley barks, followed by a skittering noise in another part of the home. 

Riley barks again as Ghost finds him, head low to the ground barking through more ruble he couldn’t make it through. From what he could tell this was a small bedroom that was blocked off by fallen furniture and rubble from other collapsed parts of the building. 

He calls out again.

‘Is there someone in there?’ There was no response. Riley whined softly. 

Ghost tried to get closer, moving small pieces of furniture, finding a gap in the wall just next to what he assumed to be a bedroom door. He got closer to the hole and crouching down he pointed his flashlight inside, to see a small child huddled in the corner.

Riley barked, making the small child jump, letting out a small cry as they pushed themselves farther into the corner. 

Ghost threw Riley a look that had him seated and silent, just before he tried to call out. 

‘Hey-Are you alright?’ The child peaked up to him for only a moment before wrapping themselves into a small ball again. 

‘I’m here to help you.’ Ghost pulled his patch off of his chest and shined his flashlight over it. This time the child looked up and he could see that it was a young girl, maybe 6 or 7 years old. She slowly made her way over to him, standing at first and watching where she could see, clearly very scared. 

As she got closer, she saw Riley sitting behind Ghost, and stopped moving all together. She looked at the dog with furrowed brows and slowly began to back away. Ghost held up his hand to her through the crack, as if to say, look. Slowly moving he brought his hand back and pet Riley. The dog looked to Ghost and then back to the child, mouth hung open as his eyes shut calmly under Ghosts hand. The child looked to Ghost and moved closer, stopping when his radio went off- a loud noise in the silence between them. 

‘Alright were movin-‘ Ghost shut off the radio with a click. The girl inched closer to him, he could see now she was covered in ash, a large shirt and shorts also covered in the dust. He held his hand through the crack for her to grab and she gingerly took it. He looked to her just for a moment, not saying anything but ensuring that she knew she could trust him. 

A gun shot. Loud, outside, and far too close. The girl ripped her hand from Ghosts and stood looking to him in pure terror. Ghost grabbed his own gun and turned towards the entrance. More firing, this time farther away. Ghost looked quickly back to the girl and around the walls to see if she was able to get out, but found nothing. Looking up he spotted a larger whole in the wall, too high for her to climb to. He looked at her, not taking his eyes off the entrance for long, pointed to her and then what looked like a closet tucked in the corner of the room. She moved quickly to hide, backing away into the dark slowly, but didn’t get into the closet. She looked between him and the closet, her face scrunching in panic.

Ghost moved to the front of the room, not seeing anything through windows or hearing any more firing nearby. He then picked up Riley, who groaned in response and lifted him towards the larger hole in the wall. At first, he hesitated, then jumped down onto the other side, and found the gap where Ghost and the girl had been before, looking puzzled. 

‘Stay, Riley.’ The dog looked back towards the girl, and back over Ghosts shoulder to the sound of more gunfire. Ghost patted the dog through the small gap once more before turning and making his way to the front of the home. 

[queen-of-nightmare-16]

Can I request Warwick Vander and daughter reader where they reunite in Viktor sanctuary after Vander gets his memories back. She’s scared a bit, and the last time they spoke it was a huge fight and she said she hates him. And it’s Hurt/comfort.

GHOSTS | Vander/Warwick X Daughter Reader

CONTENT WARNINGS - Threat • Injury • Angst • Mention of death • Comfort • Season 2 Spoilers! • Reunions

PAIRING: Vander/Warwick X Fem Daughter Reader

SUMMARY: you were Vander’s daughter and forced to leave the Undercity after your family’s deaths. Only to return when one of your companions needs healing from a mysterious herald and you realises ghosts do exist?

WORD COUNT: 2.9K

——————————————————————————

“You sure this guy can help?” You asked your second in command.

Rek’yr, a large powerful white bear Vastaya, crossed his arms over his broad chest glancing back to the rest of your crew. “It’s all I’ve heard recently. Shimmer addicts, crippled children, all of them: back up on their feet, healed and better than ever,” he replied in a gruff voice, glancing down to one man in particular. “Could be Fink’s only chance”.

A grimace set on your face as you glanced down to the man in particular. Well, rather young lad. 17 and dumb as a bag of rocks but fiercely loyal and brave. Brave enough to stupidly take on a large Noxian warrior at a check point only to take a blade in the gut. No, matter what your healers did, he wasn’t getting better. Maybe the blade had been coated with a poison of some kind or it had nicked an artery, either way your people didn’t have the facilities or equipment necessary to check. Then you heard the rumour. A man -- or a herald -- that could heal anyone of any ailment.

There was no could about it. It was Fink last chance. The only problem it took you into the depths of the Undercity. A place you hadn’t called home for 8 years now. Ever since … that night.

Many people of the Undercity was shocked that when the Uprising ended in failure, the famed Hound of the Underground starting adopting children of the fallen. First the two daughters of one of his closest friends. Then two boys. But they always seemed to forget that he already had one by blood. You. It was a classic love story of the Lanes. Two dumb teens getting together and 9 months later another mouth to feed was born. There was no malice between your parents. They loved you equally, yet you lived with your mother as Vander was one of the leaders of the Uprising. Always said it would be too dangerous to stay with him. That was until she too fell that day on the bridge and Vander brought you home to The Last Drop. Your family had grown exponentially as did your responsibilities. Now the older sister to 4 new siblings.

But fate deemed your happy family was not to last.

“Hey, you still alright being here?” Rek’yr asked noticing your discomfort. “If it’s too much--“.

“I’ll be fine,” you lightly snapped, immediately feeling regret wash over you. “Sorry. Let’s … let’s just help Fink and get out of here”.

With your order, Reky’yr and another one of your crew picked up the stretcher carrying Fink and continued through the canyons. Following each curve and twist of the rock, until it came to an open area. More people of different varieties entering the compound, all with their own issues or injuries. It was more than a shock when you were greeted at the entrance by a familiar face. Huck. He seemed lighter, more content, less afraid. With weird white swirls to the right of his face, along with five prominent evenly spaced dots on his forehead.

“Dear Y/N, lovely to see you again,” he greeted politely with a bow of his head. Even after all these years, he still recognised you.

“Huck? Is that you?” You said almost speechless.

“Yes,” he nodded, his new watercolored eyes glancing over your shoulder to spot your companions. “In need of help?”.

“Y-yeah. My friend, he’s been stabbed,” you explained, waving Rek’yr forwards. Huck stared somewhat blankly down at Fink, his face covered in a sheet of sweat. “Your healer … can he fix him?”.

“The Herald can help all,” Huck responded brightly before gazing at the glaive strapped to Rek’yrs back. “But I’m afraid your weapons must remain here. There are no weapons allowed in the commune”.

Your fingers twitched on the handle of your sword, uncertain but Finks pained coughs made your mind clear. Unsheathing the blade from its scabbard, you stabbed it into the ground and ordered the others to do the same. When almost all of your weapons sat before you, Huck stepped back and welcomed you inside.

“Just to the centre and you’ll find him there,” he informed, smile forming once more. You nodded in appreciation and took a step only for him to place a hand on your shoulder. “The rest of your family is here too”.

Your brows immediately furrowed. What did he mean? The only “family” you had left was Jinx and the two of you were now estranged ever since Silco chased you out of the Last Drop. With a tight gulp, the four of you entered. Rek’yr took the lead, offering Fink reassuring comments whilst you fell behind slightly, eyes wavering through the crown for a glimpse of blue hair. If Jinx was here it couldn’t have been for anything good. Upon staring behind you, you hadn’t noticed you strayed into someone’s path until you clipped their shoulder.

“Hey, watch it!” You immediately snapped, watching the black haired woman glare right back.

“You’re the one who walked into me you--” she started to snark only to fall short. Her blue eyes squinted, staring you up and down before a look of realisation dawned on her. “Y/N?!”.

Your nose twitched. “How do you…” you eyes drifted onto her left cheek. There was a small tattoo. And those eyes, they suddenly became very familiar.

“V-Vi?!” You stuttered.

“Oh Y/N!” She cried, wrapping her arms around your shoulders. You slow breaths heaved from your lips as they awkwardly wrapped around her waist. Vi let out a sigh of relief before pulling away, running a hand over your cheek. “You’re alive”.

“I’m alive?! You’re alive!” you retorted, taking her all in. She really wasn’t the same 15 year old kid you once knew. Now a woman grown, strong and formidable. The only thing that spun you off was the ridiculous black hair. “How? I- I thought you … I thought you died. With Mylo and Claggor and …”. You voice drifted off before you could say that painful word.

“No, I got arrested. I was in Stillwater for the last 7 years,” she explained sadly, her pleased gleam swiftly shifting into one of irritation. “Where the hell did you go?! You left Powder to Silco!”.

“Whoa, calm down! I didn’t want to leave but Silco didn’t exactly make it easy!” You snapped, shoving her hand from your shoulder. Like she knew. She had the benefit of a routine, even if it was inside the walls of a prison cell. You in the other hand had to live from one hour to the next, wondering if this one was when you’d meet your end. “Do you know what it was like? As far as I was aware you were all dead! You! The guys! Pa! Then Silco took the Last Drop, he nearly killed me and I had no one! I had to run!”.

Vi was stunted by your anger. Just as she had changed, so did you. Once a sweet 17 year old girl that happily worked pouring the odd drink at The Last Drop or delivering pints to patrons. Anything to help your father out whenever he needed it. “So … where did you go?” She asked.

“Bilgewater. Got a job, formed a crew and I swore I wasn’t gonna come back to Zaun but work lead me here. Then a friend of mine got stabbed so we need this herald to heal him.” you answered, stressfully pinching the bridge of your nose. With a huff your eyes turned back to her, looking her up and down. “Is he as good as they say? You look in good spirits”.

Vi glanced down at herself. “We’re not here for me,” she replied.

“‘We’? Who’s we? I-is Jinx here?” You question, receiving a nod as a reply. A snarky snarl grew on your lips. “Hmph, finally getting her head fixed is she?”.

“No. Look, this--” she started harshly but faltered. “… this might be hard to understand but don’t freak out”.

Her words were cautious like she was talking to a child, resting a comforting hand on your shoulder and rubbing it soothingly.

“Dad … dad’s alive”.

A sharp pain stabbed you in the chest at her words. That wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be possible. You could feel it bubbling in your chest, like your heart and your head was going to explode. The painful memories you had attempted to shut out came flooding back like a tidal wave. Your voice. His voice. They coiled in your head like a constricting snake.

“You can’t do this! They’ll throw you in Stillwater for good! You’ll never get out!”.

“It’ll only be for a few years. Vi’s just a kid, she shouldn’t be throwing her life away”.

“So it’s fine for you to throw yours?! You’re leaving me! Just like Ma did!”.

“I’m not. I don’t want to do this, but we both know it’s the only way. I need you protect the family now”.

Protect the family. What family? It would all end with him.

“You’ll understand why when you’re older”.

“No, I don’t think I will. Just know, that if you do this, I’ll always hate you”.

That sorrowful look in his grey eyes. It was the last thing you ever saw of your father.

“I’m sorry, little pup”.

A deep fury burned in your eyes as you glared at her. “Wow, and I thought Mylo was the cruel one out of us all!” You seethed through clenched teeth. If it was anyone else they would’ve already been knocked on their arse. You shoved her arm from your shoulder and took a step back. “I’m getting my friend healed and I’m getting out of here. Have a nice life Vi”.

“Y/N, I’m serious! Why would I lie about this?!” She argued, grabbing you by the arm so you couldn’t walk away. “Vander’s the one we’re getting healed”.

Once again your heart clenched. Rage and guilt battling it out for control. “H-he’s here? Where?”.

“In a greenhouse,” she gestured over to a small building just a short distance away. “I … I can take you to him if you want”.

Your breath was hitching, desperately fighting against a wave of tears that crept behind your eyes. “Y/N, you alright?” Rek’yrs voice called behind you. You turned to face him, noticing Fink and your other crew member a distance away; the so called herald gazing down at your injured friend.

“Rek’yr, see to Fink. I … I need to deal with something,” you softly ordered. The humanoid bear stared suspiciously between you and Vi for a second but nodded none the less.

“On it. You need me, holla. I’ll come running,” he offered. The two of you shared a gentle smile before he marched away. Inhaling deeply, you huffed and turned back to Vi.

“Take me to him”.

The two of you walked together, you palms becoming clammy at you growing nervousness. But not at the near impossibility of his survival; rather at his potential anger towards you. Did he know of all that happened after he was taken by Silco? Or that you failed his last request. Or maybe, would he be mad at your last harsh words to him. It was pathetic; childish.

Before you had even realised, you both stood in front the door to the greenhouse. Your fingers nervously twitched behind your back, seeking the leather bound handle of the dagger you had hidden under your corset for comfort.

“Y/N, you need to know … he-- he’s not the same as he was before. He’s different, like really different,” Vi warned, her hand hesitating on the door handle.

“He’s my father. I want to see him,” you firmly stated. Vi sighed and finally opened the door. She crept in first; slow and cautious. Which confused you. You swiftly followed, standing by her side as the room was painted in a slight darkness.

“Vander?” Vi called out once you closed the door behind you. Your desperate eyes squinted, trying to peak through the foliage to spot him. That’s when a large shadow shifted behind a fountain, your brows furrowing as a baby blue eye stared through the leafs. It wasn't his familia grey. And the sclera, it was black. Fear crept up you spine as the head turned, the blue eye joined by a green one. The plants shook, your eyes doubling as a large paw-like hand planted itself on the ground. Another followed, this one modified with large metallic claws and obvious signs of chem-technology. Your lips curved into a horrified sneer at the sight of a mouth full of fangs, its large ears twitching in curiosity as it revealed itself.

“Vi, what the fuck?!” You heaved, wrenching your blade free as it stepped closer; your heart pounding in terror.

“Y/N, just calm down,” she begged, standing defensively in front of the beast. The fear in your eyes, it made the creature jump and shrink away. As if it was ashamed to scare you, like it wanted to hide in itself. “Just … just look at him. It’s him,” she pleaded.

How could it be him? Your father was a man, not this. Not some monster of creation. But the way it held your gaze, the way a parent would a child. It was unsettling; unnerving. It struck you to your core. The blade glimmered in the light as your hand shook unsteadily. Yet it made no attempt to threaten you. As you took a step forward so did the beast. The knife felt heavy, its comfort becoming unwanted. Taking a shaky breath you stepped closer, Vi slowly shuffling to the side so there was nothing between you two.

Tears built up behind you eyes, your head tilting upwards as it stood over you. Its eyes soft and longing. “P-Pa?” You spoke. Its pawed hand rose up causing you to shudder slightly. Every instinct in your body was screaming at you to run, to attack and protect yourself but you were frozen in a mixture of fear and intrigue. Its hand hovered just before your face until one of its clawed fingers gently tucked a lock of hair that had come loose behind your ear, grazing your cheek before it pulled away. Just like he always used to do before.

By the gods, how was this possible. “Vi, can you give us a moment,” you asked, your voice somewhat frail. Your sister nodded and swiftly left. Now, it was just you two. Alone.

“So it really is you. After all this time,” you uttered, taking him all in. He had always seemed larger than life when you were younger but now he truly was. “How is this even possible?”.

Vander glanced down at himself, though he wished he could he was unable to voice an answer. But it wasn’t like he wanted to give your the gory details that had suddenly came back thanks to Viktor’s healing either.

Your nose twitched at his silence, as did an old familia anger that had been bottled up for so long resurfacing as well. “What did you expect of me? What, did you think I could look after them without you?!” You hissed, your hands coming up to stressfully scrunch your hair. By the gods, this was insane. This was too much. “I needed you!”.

Vanders eyes bulged slightly, mildly taken back by your burst of anger. Your body trembled in hysteria as you took a few steps away.

“You just had to go and be the damn hero! Vi was a kid b-but the Council would’ve gone easy on her! Whilst you! You lead the uprising! You never would’ve seen the light of day again!” You yelled, throwing the knife across the room where it became embedded in the wall far away from him.

Seething breath after breath, you marched back towards him; despair blending with anguish. Your hands came up to shove him but you found it was like punching a brick wall. He hardly moved, nor did he attempt to stop you; allowing you to vent. “This isn’t right! NONE OF THIS IT RIGHT! You coming back after 8 years, looking like this! It doesn’t change anything!” You bawled, growing more frustrated by the second. Hot tears burned behind your eyes, desperately trying to break free.

“I still hate you!” You screeched, your fist coming up to slam against his broad chest. ‘No, I don’t,’ your brain screamed. ‘I hate myself’.

Vander barely budged at your pounding fists. “This doesn’t change anything! This doesn’t make anything better! No better!”.

Your voice cracked, hands becoming stagnant upon his chest; unable to fight anymore as his large arm wrap around you. “No, fu-cking better”.

You could feel his breath tussle your hair as he tugged you close, his nose resting on the crown of your head. So gentle, even at this monstrous size. A low grumble reached your ears. It was rough but nonthreatening. His words slow yet heartfelt. “I … missed you … little pup,” he whispered softly.

All your resolve broke, the damns in your eyes breaking with a cascade of tears poured down you cheeks. Your clenched fists fell open and latched around his waist, pulling him to you as tightly as you could. The shame and regret you once felt for not holding him close that night slowly faded away. You face became buried in his chest, sobs shuddering past you lips. As did a tiny breathless laugh. It was swift. This feeling was one you hadn’t truly felt in years.

Happiness. He was here, alive. Home.

“I missed you too, Pa”.

——————————————————————————

Hey, I wrote some more! Sorry, to the requester if this felt like a long time since you asked. I don’t have the luxury to have Christmas off like other jobs, oh the joys of hospitality! Anyway, I hope this was what you desired.

I don’t know if I’ll do more requests in the future but, who knows. I might feel generous. Have a Happy New Year y’all!

[weareallgonnaliveforawhile]

In an AU where Astyanx lives, Eurylochus would have a much bigger role in taking care of him than people think.

Personally?

Eurylochus is the second in command on a ship that's full of men doing their best to go home. That is to say, Odysseus would be very busy whether he wanted to be or not. In an au where Astyanax's identity is being hidden, then there's the thing of Ody can NOT be hiding in his room constantly raising this kid because if he is, then the rest of the men don't know where the fuck he is. If his identity isn't being hidden, then it'll still fall to Eury to do a decent amount of child rearing as one of the people Ody trusts most in the world.

After the ocean saga, I imagine Eury tries to make up for the fact he nearly got all of the men killed and latches onto Astyanax a bit tighter. Him being willing to leave behind the pig men on Circe's island was him being like 'Yeah, I don't think it's possible to save them, let's get the fuck out of here' just like in canon with the only change being him tightly clutching onto Astyanax while this is happening.

If Astyanax was somehow turned into a pig then I imagine during the entire conversation Eury is holding onto this tiny piglet for dear life and treating any stray animal or plant for that matter as if it's gonna kill the baby.

Narratively?

Eurylochus is the voice of the crew and the representation of Odysseus's humanity. He's willing to sacrifice men at the start when Ody isn't and that's something that swaps further into the musical (I will go on a whole rant about Eury being Odysseus's humanity, the thing that makes him human). All of this is to say that as Odysseus gets crueler with his morals, Eurylochus gets kinder. Where he'd once be fine with sacrificing someone else if it meant more got to live, he becomes aghast at the thought of killing one of the men that's fought so long to go home.

This is seen in his treatment of Astyanx. If he was brash to the kid at first, he becomes softer, caring. Maybe he sits with him and tells him stories of the war. When Odysseus is charting out his maps or having an episode (which is to be expected on a ship full of war veterans), he sits beside Astyanx. Maybe they talk and maybe they don't. But it's VERY important that they get closer. Close enough that on a ship where traditional family dynamics get skewed very fast, since it's entirely full of traumatized middle-aged men who have questionable ideas on how to interact with kids, Eurylochus becomes almost a second dad of sorts. It takes a village, after all, and some villagers get closer to the child than others.

During Mutiny, Eurylochus is the voice of the crew. And the crew is starving. Not just hungry, but a true type of starving that eats at your stomach and blurs your vision until you know nothing but the desperation of needing to eat. It'd be worse than in canon. Eurylochus would give any last rations he had to Astyanax. Not just because he'd do that as a person at this time. But because it'd parallel Odysseus in a sense. Ody let other people hurt so he could get home, so he could live (not saying this is a bad thing, just saying this is what he did) and Eurylochus let someone else take something they needed despite the fact that he would hurt, that if he didn't eat the ration he might not get home (at least to his hunger ailed brain). So yeah, I don't imagine Astyanax would be visible for Mutiny because Eury would've had him tucked away somewhere. Why force the boy to watch his uncle father Eurylochus betray his father?

Either way, long story short, Eurylochus would be a central part in Astyanax's life. From a reluctant uncle, to a protective uncle to a peusdo second father to a ghost, he is a very important figure in Astyanax's life that can't be underestimated.

[haeiheart]

terms and conditions mark lee smau

chapter 18: yo lemme hit pls

half written + half smau (wc: 2.2k)

8:15 PM | Stage Area

8:15 PM | Stage Area

You and Ning finally fight your way back to the crowd, just in time for Haechan’s set. The bass is already thumping, and people are packed shoulder to shoulder. No chance in hell of getting front row.

“We should’ve just stayed backstage,” you mutter.

“Backstage with the resident vaper?” Ning raises a brow, smirking. “Yeah, that’s a solid vibe.”

You snort. “He ghosted us the second he got his pod. I think he’s under the stage hotboxing a fog machine.”

You both sway along to the music anyway, Minjeong somewhere behind you, the crowd vibrating with pure, chaotic energy. Haechan’s onstage doing what he does best which is commanding attention like he was born under a spotlight. His vocals are solid, his dancing’s sharp, and his stage presence is insane, even if you can tell he’s kinda rushing through things. Like, it’s not messy, but there’s this manic edge to the way he performs like he’s got somewhere to be the second he hits that final pose. Still, you’re not gonna lie: he eats. Every time.

“Okay… he’s really good,” you murmur, almost to yourself.

Ningning nods, eyes still on the stage, already recording. “Yeah. He always is.”

There’s no teasing in her tone, just honesty. And she’s right. For all of Haechan’s chaos offstage, the second he’s under the lights, it’s like something clicks into place. He’s sharp, effortless, magnetic. You let yourself enjoy it, just a little more than you expected to.

“Yeah. He always is,” Ningning says, and for a second, the three of you just cheer with the rest of the crowd with hands in the air, voices lost in the noise, soaking in the energy.

The lights drop. Haechan hits his final pose under the strobes, and the music cuts with a dramatic echo. He does a quick breathless outro into the mic, something about “y’all were crazy tonight” and “give it up for the next act”, his voice laced with that signature raspy edge.

The crowd starts to shift, and Minjeong leans in between you and Ningning.

“Okay, snack break?” she says, already halfway turned toward the exit. “Just like five minutes. I need water. And maybe a hot dog.”

You nod. “Yes, please. I haven’t had sugar or sweets since 2PM I’m literally dying of low blood sugar right now.”

But before any of you can move—

“YAH!”

You all whip around just in time to see a very sweaty, very unwell-looking Haechan barreling toward you from the side barricade like a man with a plan and no regard for rules.

“Haechan?” Ningning blinks. “Did you— did you teleport?”

He’s panting, eyeliner half-smudged, shirt stuck to him, eyes wild. “No time. Come on. You— Minjeong— Ning— Y/n, let’s go.”

“Where—” you start, but he’s already grabbing your wrist.

“I got you spots. Front. VIP pit. Best view.”

Minjeong narrows her eyes. “Wait. You got us spots? Or you’re sneaking us in?”

“I have access,” he says, extremely unconvincingly.

“Haechan.”

“What? I do! Sort of.”

You’re all already being dragged toward the roped-off area, and before security can even blink, he’s talking fast, waving some pass (you’re not convinced it’s real), and suddenly you’re all ducking under the barricade and stumbling into the front row VIP section.

It’s empty. Clean. Cushioned barricade. Actual leg room.

“Bro,” Minjeong breathes. “This feels illegal.”

“It probably is,” Ningning mutters.

You glance at Haechan, who’s beaming proudly like he just did the most selfless act of the century.

“I said I gotchu,” he grins, wiping his forehead with a towel. “Now stay here. Mark’s next. Best view in the house.”

Then he disappears again, leaving only the faint trail of cologne and sin.

You sit down on the barricade, heart still racing. 8:30’s ticking in. Mark’s up next.

And somehow, you’re right where you need to be.

After waiting for a couple of minutes for the crew to set up the next stage, the lights hit the stage in a sudden white flash, sharp, clean, almost blinding. And there he is.

Mark.

All shadow and light at first, then real, solid and undeniably present as he steps forward with a mic in hand and a look that makes your breath catch. The crowd erupts. But your ears go quiet for a second.

This is what you’d been waiting for.

You always knew he was talented, everyone did. But seeing him like this… on stage, in his element, commanding everything with ease, it’s like meeting him all over again. He moves with purpose, with a kind of calm intensity that almost doesn’t make sense considering how nervous he gets before things like this. But now? He’s locked in. Eyes forward. Voice steady.

And then he looks at you.

Mid-intro, like it’s timed, his gaze finds yours through the lights and the crowd and everything else just falls away.

You feel it in your chest. That flicker. That hit of electricity that doesn’t go away.

He keeps performing, but his eyes return to you again and again, like a thread pulling tighter with every verse, every glance. It’s not flashy or showy, it’s subtle. Focused. Intentional.

You find yourself mouthing along to a song you don’t even remember memorizing. Then another. And another. Somewhere between the second and third track, you realize you’re following every word, every rhythm, like your heart already knew the setlist.

And it’s not just music anymore.

It’s a message. A confession.

Not just from him, but from you too, like the lyrics you’re echoing back are ones you’ve always wanted to say. Like every line is unraveling things between you that you haven’t dared to name.

Mark doesn’t say a word off-mic, but you feel like you’re having a full conversation.

You don’t know how long it’s been, how many songs deep you are, but he hasn’t looked away for more than a few seconds at a time. And neither have you.

You’ve never been more sure of anything.

After his performance ended, you clapped like your life depended on it, yelling his name and cheering like you were trying to summon every ounce of love and adrenaline left in your body. He was your number one boy of the night (of every night honestly and he deserved to know it.) He absolutely destroyed that stage, and you were still floating somewhere in that dazed, heart-thumping haze when your phone buzzed.

You glanced down, screen lighting up with a message from him:

[markie]: wait outside the backstage entrance for me? :)

Your breath caught.

You didn’t say a word and just looked up at your friends, wide-eyed. Ningning saw the screen over your shoulder and smiled immediately. Minjeong leaned in with a knowing look, nudging your arm.

“Go,” Ning whispered. “He’s waiting.”

“Tell him he owes me a hot dog,” Minjeong added without looking up.

You were already moving, half-jogging, half-floating through the crowd, weaving past people and security and the chaos of post-set shuffle until you made it to the backstage entrance. Your heart wouldn’t stop pounding. You kept checking your phone like he’d text again. Five minutes passed. Then ten. A part of you started spiraling.

What if he got pulled into something?

What if he forgot?

What if this wasn’t what you thought it was—

Then the door burst open.

And there he was.

Still in his stage outfit, hair a little messy, face flushed but grinning like he was seeing the sun after days of rain. Mark Lee, breathless, holding a small, slightly wrinkled bouquet of flowers like he’d nearly tackled someone to get them.

“I— I ran,” he said, laughing between breaths. “I had to change and stuff but I didn’t want to make you wait.”

You stared at him, stunned. He was here. Flowers. Smile. The look in his eyes. All of it.

Mark shifts on his feet, still catching his breath, but the moment he looks at you his whole expression softens.

“So…” he starts, voice low, almost shy, “I’m guessing you… kinda got the meaning behind the songs?”

You don’t say anything at first and just nod, smiling so fondly at him you feel it all the way in your chest.

He lets out this tiny laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Cool. Okay. That’s—cool. Um.”

You watch him fumble a little, heart swelling at how real he is. How him he is.

“Y/N, I’m… I’m sorry if it took me this long to actually ask you the question,” he says, eyes dropping for a second before flicking back to yours. “I just— I get nervous. And I don’t really have a ton of experience with, like… asking girls out. Or saying things the right way. Or just… romantic stuff in general.”

He laughs nervously, cheeks pink. “I had, like, a whole speech planned but I forgot it the second I saw you standing here. So I’m just gonna wing it.”

He takes a small step closer, then gently reaches out and holds both your hands in his that feels warm, steady, still a little sweaty.

“Okay, okay,” he exhales, eyes locked on yours. “So Y/n will you finally let me be yours?”

You don’t hesitate.

“God, yes,” you breathe out, grinning so wide your cheeks hurt. “Of course I will.”

You throw your arms around him, practically launching yourself into the hug, and he laughs this stunned, relieved sound like he can’t believe this is real. His arms wrap around you tightly, warm and safe and a little shaky from the nerves he was clearly holding in all night.

When you pull back, he’s still smiling, but his eyes are glassy with something softer.

“Thank God,” he murmurs, laughing breathlessly. “I was really stressed. Like, I was already planning how I’d pretend I meant the flowers platonically. Or blame it on a concussion or something. I even told Haechan if I got rejected, he had to sneak me out through a back exit—”

You blink. “Mark—”

“—and then I was like, what if you didn’t get the lyrics at all and thought I was just being weirdly poetic? Which, like, fair, I do get kind of emo with my writing sometimes but—”

You groan, grinning. “Ugh, shut up, dork.”

And before he can say another word, you grab the front of his jacket, pull him in, and kiss him.

It’s soft at first, but full of everything you’ve been holding back, every unsaid thing, every lingering look, every shared moment that never got words. He melts into it like he’s been waiting forever, hands tightening around your waist, the world around you fading into nothing but him.

When you finally pull away, he blinks at you, stunned. Breathless.

“…You kissed me,” he says, like he needs confirmation that it actually happened.

You smile, forehead brushing his. “Yeah. And I’m gonna do it again if you keep talking.”

You and Mark are still caught in the afterglow of the kiss, close, warm, breathing the same air when you hear footsteps behind you and a very familiar voice go:

“Oh my god I knew it.”

You jump a little, turning your head just in time to see Jaehyun standing a few feet away, arms crossed, smirking like he just walked into a plot twist he predicted from episode one. Yuta’s next to him, wide-eyed, holding a water bottle and clearly living for the drama.

“Bro, we literally came to tell you they’re setting up for encore performances, and you’re out here— ” Yuta gestures vaguely between you two, “—sucking face in the dark like it’s a teen drama.”

Mark, absolutely stunned, looks like he’s buffering. “I— uh— this isn’t what it— no, it is, I guess, but—” He looks at you. “They saw us kiss.”

Jaehyun just raises a brow. “Yeah, and? I told you it was gonna happen eventually.”

Mark blinks at him. “You told me?”

You laugh, tugging on Mark’s hand a little. “Okay, let me explain this before your brain melts.”

You glance at Jaehyun, who shoots you an unbothered thumbs up like, go ahead, queen. Then you look back at Mark, a little more softly this time.

“Jaehyun’s just— he ended up being a really solid friend,” you say honestly, glancing at Mark as you keep his hand in yours. “He’s actually one of our biggest supporters.”

Mark tilts his head, confused. “Supporters…?”

You nod, smiling. “Yeah. Like you’d be surprised how much of our conversations are just me ranting about you.”

Jaehyun shrugs casually from behind. “It’s true. Half her texts are like, ‘do you think Mark knew what he was doing when he looked at me like that?’ or ‘why is he cute even when he’s dumb?’”

“Okay, traitor,” you mutter, but your smile doesn’t fade. You squeeze Mark’s hand a little tighter. “He might’ve been my first crush back when this all started or whatever but you?”

You look right at him now, a little breathless with how real this all feels.

“You’re my last and only one, Mark. The only one that ever really mattered.”

Mark’s mouth parts slightly, like he wants to say something but his brain short-circuited halfway through your sentence. He just blinks at you, clearly overwhelmed.

Behind him, Jaehyun makes a fake sniffle sound. “I always believed in you, bro.”

He exhales a tiny laugh, forehead gently bumping against yours.

“I’m so gone for you,” he mumbles.

Jaehyun in the background: “We been knew.”

And as Mark laughs into the next kiss you pull him into that is soft and stupid and very real, you think, yeah… we been knew.

masterlist / prev / next

a/n: meeting y/n family is next bee tee dubs :P

taglist: @haechology @kittydollzz @dilflover44 @nctdreamchaser @nctrawberries @awktwurtle @prettymoles @sibwol @kukkurookkoo @remgeolli @stqrgr7 @calssunflower @luvs4haechan @haechskiss @crosmicgxrl @gnarlycore @urlocalbeaner5 @fairyoflia @undomielsql @gomdoleemyson @whothefvckami @markzmelons @httpsxnox @luchiet @multifandomania @nosungluv @bbykaixx @hoeingthefuckup @cicicoups @ddolleri @iseos1 @seraferina @gigikapptor @minkieater @flaminghotyourmom @joonsprettygf @uncasings

[blessedbyahuntress]

Blessed by a Trickster

Chapter Two: Thank the Gods for Eurylochus

Prev/Next

Warnings: None!

Word count: 790

Listen to: Full Speed Ahead

This shouldn’t have hurt you this bad.

But being the cause for something so innocent and so pure’s death was wearing you down slowly.

So you sat curled up in a ball, head resting on your knees as the ship rocked back and forth. Eurylochus and Polites sat beside you, occasionally giving you glances of concern; they both didn’t like seeing you so vulnerable.

“Six hundred men,” Odysseus said, looking at his crew. And one woman, his mind added when he saw your slumped form.

“Six hundred men under my command. With only one goal in mind.” The captain turned his gaze back to the open ocean before him.

You lifted your head and wiped your eyes. “Make it back alive to our homeland,” you mumbled, your throat feeling rather dry while your stomach was empty.

“Six hundred men. Six hundred miles of open sea.” Odysseus leaned his forearms against the railing. “But the problem’s not the distance.”

“It’s what lies in between.” Great. Now you felt even more parched just by saying those five words along with the rest of the crew.

Eurylochus seemed to notice this, and while everyone was listening intently to Odysseus, he handed you his water flask. You gave him a grateful look as you nearly drained it. He chuckled when you handed it back. 

“You really were thirsty,” he said. He shook his flask, the little water that was left in there making a sloshing sound. An amused look crossed his face as he looked down at you. He stood. “I must go talk to the captain about food and water,” Eurylochus excused himself. You gave him a nod to acknowledge his words.

You watched Eurylochus approach Odysseus. “Captain,” he said.

“Eurylochus,” Odysseus greeted. 

“Six hundred men. Six hundred men with big mouths to feed. And we’ve run out of supplies to eat.” Eurylochus spread his hands as the crew continued, “Curse the war, our food store’s depleted.”

“Six hundred men. Six hundred reasons to take what we can,” Eurylochus said. “So captain, what’s the plan?”

At the prospect of food, the crew crowded closer to the captain and second command. “Captain, what’s the plan?” They demanded.

You grasped the railing behind you as you struggled to get to your feet. Polites got up quickly himself and offered you a hand.

You raised an eyebrow at him before standing easily. You laughed at his shocked expression before looking out at the rolling waves below you. 

“Watch where the birds fly,” you heard Odysseus order, but you didn’t turn to look. “They will lead us to land. There we’ll hunt for food, my second in command. Now full speed ahead.”

Eurylochus returned to your side as the rest of the men began chanting, “We’re off, we’re off, and away we go.”

Suddenly Polites grabbed your hand out of pure excitement. Pointing with his free one, he gestured to an island. “Look!” He cried. 

Before you could even respond, Polites dragged you over to Odysseus, seemingly forgetting about your intertwined fingers. Eurylochus hesitantly followed. You looked down at your hands and blushed.

“Captain!”

“Polites! Y/N!” Odysseus raised an eyebrow at your connected hands, but to your surprise, didn’t say anything. 

“Look! There in the distance, I see an island. I see a light that faintly glows. Maybe they're people lighting a fire,” Polites said excitedly.

Judging from Odysseus’s expression, you could tell that the captain wasn’t convinced. “Maybe they'll share some food, who knows?” You added, just to support your best friend. 

“Something feels off here,” Odysseus said, brow furrowing. “I see fire, but there’s no smoke.”

“I say we strike first.” You jumped at the sound of Eurylochus’s voice right behind you. You turned to see him giving yours and Polites’s attached hands a severe look. You pulled away gently from Polites as Eurylochus continued, “We don’t have time to waste, so let’s raid this place and-”

“No,” Odysseus cut in sharply. “Polites, Y/N. Gear up. We’ll go ahead.” 

“We’ll go ahead,” you and Polites said in unison, giving each other excited glances.

This only seemed to make Eurylochus more angry and frustrated. Odysseus saw the mood shift and placed a hand on his friend's shoulder. “We should try to find a way no one ends up dead.” 

Eurylochus looked at you before quickly moving his gaze elsewhere. “We don’t know what’s ahead,” he protested stubbornly. 

“Give me 'til sunrise, and if we don't return. Then six hundred men can make this whole place burn. Now full speed ahead,” Odysseus offered before turning his attention to his crew.

You grabbed a helmet and slid it over your head as the crew chanted, “We’re off, we’re off, and away we go.”

“Full speed ahead!”