#like clinging to the mast of a sinking ship

[night-dragon937]

oh how i miss writing shamelessly thinly veiled vent fics wrapped in hurt/no comfort character studies

however it's been over two years since we've written fanfic (over two years since we've written AT ALL) and we've become acutely critical of anything we write so i don't think that ball is going to start rolling anything soon :P

[the-real-treasure]

Treasure Treasure!

An OPLA Sanji x Reader

Master List Here

Previous Chapter: Let Sleeping Cats Die

Chapter Seven: Returning Tides of Home

Summary: A captain learns that prices must be paid and punishments will be dished out accordingly. A duel challenge is issued, and it leaves wounds on more than just the competitors.

Trigger Warnings: Violence, threats and descriptions of violence, swearing, trauma responses, mentions of death, self-harm, branding, scarring, mention of alcohol, duel to the death, Reader's Devil Fruit power is overwhelming and overstimulating Word Count: 9,730 **Edited: 16/09/24**

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"Did you just call that guy Grandpa?" Zoro asked from beside his captain

"Luffy," you scolded from beside Nami, "Seriously?" Luffy looks at you,

"What?"

"He takes his steaks medium rare!"

"So?!" The call comes not just from Luffy but the rest of your crewmates as well.

"So! That's so incredibly," you coil you neck in, having to physically pit out the word "boring."

"Really." Nami sounds incredibly done with you, and you're not sure why. "That's where the concern comes from."

"Where else would it come from?"

"Maybe the fact that HE'S A MARINE AND IS CURRENTLY ATTACKING US!"  Her unimpressed voice turns to a yell as another cannon ball rocks the ship. Everyone stumbles at the shock wave and you end up clinging to Nami.

"YOU MAKE A FAIR POINT, I'LL GIVE YOU THAT." As another cannonball rockets through the air, Usopp screams,

"HIT THE DECK!" Luffy and Zoro fall from the force of the blast as woodchips shower down on them, the blast taking out several spindles of the railing. As they climb to their feet, Luffy calls out,

"Everybody ok?"

"I think so," Nami replies as she pries your clawed hands from her arms, sharp nails leaving indents in the skin, but not scratches thankfully.

"No. Not okay, not even close to okay." Usopp shouts down from behind you both.

"Usopp! Fire back at them!"

"Or," the sharp shooter suggests, "how about we sail away as fast as we can?"

"I like that plan, second Usopp's plan!" You shoot your hand into the air as a vote, only to stagger and grab a desperate hold of the rigging as everything around you shakes. "Reminder Luffy, we can not swim! I do not want to try drowning out for a third time in my life, thank you!!" Luffy stares at you both in disbelief.

"Run from the Marines? No. Never! Nami, trim the-the sail thing. Let's sink their ship." You calmly ignore your captain's insane plan and barely legible request, instead checking the ropes of the sail at their base, before clambering on to the rigging up towards the crow's nest as Nami begins to argue.

"We don't have time. They're stealing our wind. If they pull up alongside us, we're finished." As he and Usopp start manoeuvring the cannon the face the Marine ship, you scamper nimbly across the head of the sail, ducking under the tack of the cross tree.

"You're the navigator. Do something." She sighs at him and begins yelling to you and the green haired swordsman.

"Zoro, sheet in and hard to port!" Leaning back, she blocks the sun from her eyes as she yells up to you, grabbing the rudder control, "Y/n, make sure the clew lines are loose! And when you've done that, get down here and secure the kicker."

"AYE!" You call back over the winds, checking that the lines running down the sail aren't jammed in the clewgarnets, as Zoro queries,

"Which ways port?"

"The left!" She yells, and you slide easily back to the deck, the years of clambering about the Orbit and Baratie's masts and rigging leaving it as a near thoughtless exercise. You couldn't cook, but you had a sharp eye and a good ear for instructions, so you were often directed to work amongst the lines and tack. The bandages around your hands, leather gloves abandoned back in Syrup Village, stank and burned slightly from the friction, but it had never stopped you before. "Usopp!" Nami yelled as you skittered past to secure the control lines, "Load the cannon in the barrel, light the fuse, then get the HELL OUT OF THE WAY!"

You look up from checking the ropes, as cannon balls bounce merrily down the stairs, perfectly happy to not be loaded up and shot at high speeds. Eyeing the mess of ropes Zoro had abandoned, you pick your way through the rolling carnage and start on the gordian knot that your crew mate had left.

"Oh man." Luffy sighed at the butchering a simple attempt at a counterattack had left the ship in already. From the Marine ship you hear a loud voice transmit across the sea to you.

"Pirate vessel, by order of the Marines, lower your sails and submit to my authority." You were getting really sick of being ordered by Marines. Luffy didn't seem to care for his grandfather's commands either as he screams in reply.

"NEVER!" You watch stunned as the man lifted a cannon ball, and chucked it towards your ship. Open mouthed, you gaped as it sailed through the air towards you, only for Luffy to begin to inflate like a balloon, catching it in his chest and sending it flying back and striking the mast of the enemy ship.

"That was," Usopp gasped, "amazing! You saved us!" He cheered excitedly. Nami gawked at him.

"You didn't tell me you could do that."

"I didn't know I could." Luffy replied, eyes never leaving the Marine vessel as Usopp bounced down the stairs to him, the pair laughing and cheering together. "Nami! Get us out of here!"

"On it!" Steering the Going Merry into a thick bank of fog, she muttered, "Let's disappear."

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"How's the ship look?" Zoro walked up alongside you and Nami as she steered and you peered over the edge, staring into the fog to keep an eye out for rocks or other dangers that might appear suddenly.

"Broken railing, minor damage. Could've been a lot worse."

"Could've been better." She shot down.

"Can't see the Marines anywhere." Usopp called over his shoulder.

"You can't see anything, this fog is too damn thick." You answer, barely able to make out his figure through the soup.

"What we need is a place to lay low, wait out any reinforcements they send after us." Nami figured.

"I know the perfect place, it's just trying to find it from here. Wherever here is."

"Let me guess," Nami smirked at you, "the best restaurant in the whole of the East Blue."

"With the best cooks, the best staff." Usopp chimed with a grin at you,

"And a sardine shaped boat called the Guppy." Zoro and Nami grinned at each other,

"Yeah, what's it called? Pure Ratty or something?" The pair sniggered as you whirled on them.

"You know its name, don't make fun of me!"

"I'm honestly starting to doubt this place's existence." Nami said, head shaking. You mouth the words at the back of her head, wiggling your head at her mocking. "It doesn't matter either way, my charts are useless in this fog."

"What did Luffy say?" Zoro asked

"He's up on the bow. He hasn't said anything since we hightailed it." Usopp answered, still staring out into the fog.

"Well, somebody needs to talk to him. About this and that other thing." Zoro swayed slightly with the ship and looked at her.

"What other thing?"

"Oh gee, I wonder. The vice-admiral-of-the-Marines-is-my-grandfather thing."

"Oooh, that." Usopp pursed his lips. "Yeah, I don't really know the guy that well."

"Doesn't seem like a big deal." Zoro shrugged. Nami glared at him.

"You're his first mate. Kind of seems like that falls under your job description, hmm?" He looked at the pair, before glancing over at you in your perch in the rigging.

"Y/n's known him longer than me, Y/n you go talk to him." You shake your head.

"Nope. That's veering into guy talk territory and I don't do guy talks, I've had enough of that for six lifetimes. I do offer a guy talk clean up service, so if it doesn't go well, I can sort it out after, but that's it. Besides," You shooed him away, "I'm just the magic compass. It's not in my job description. Off you go, First Mate."

He rolled his eyes and turned away, disappearing into the fog.

"Fine."

You, Nami and Usopp follow shortly behind, meeting Zoro halfway as he returns to your group.

"Seems fine to me."

"Did you even ask him?" Nami asked incredulously. 

"Hey!" Luffy barks, standing and sniffing at the fog. "You guys smell that."

"Smell what?" You crossed your arms,

"Please don't say smoke," Nami side eyes you, "I haven't been down to the galley, don't look at me!" Luffy takes in another long sniff.

"No, no. There's something on the breeze. Smells like butter," he continues sniffing and moves further along the boat, "Soy sauce." Another long hard sniff. "And meat!"

Usopp moves onto the bow.

"I can't smell anything."

"Think he has brain damage?"

"I think that everyday."

You push past your crewmates and move up beside Luffy as he leans against the sheep figurehead.

"Look Luffy, playing follow the smell is fun and all, but we really gotta get out of this fog."

"I know, but I smell food, which means, there's someone somewhere cooking!"

You grab Luffy by the shoulders, turning him towards you.

"The butter, was it just butter, or infused with something," his mouth pulls and he give you a shrug,

"Maybe?"

"Thyme? Garlic maybe?" He takes another sniff and nods, "The soy sauce? Dark? More for colour than for flavour?" The nodding continues as you describe the food more and more, "The meat, a full boar, cooked medium to well done, in a red wine and rosemary marinade?"

The others were looking at you weirdly now as a grin spreads across your face. You turn to look at Nami.

"I told you it was real. That is one of Zeff's signatures." You grab your captain's shoulder and give them an excited shake. "Can you lead us to the smell? DO YOU THINK YOU CAN DO THAT?!" Screaming in his face was a bit weird but you were nearly home and could hardly contain it. He smiled at you confused.

"Yea, why?" You release him with a smirk and peer into the fog ahead of you.

"Well, we can hadrly miss our dinner plans, can we!"

"Five degrees starboard!" Luffy was perched on the figurehead of the Merry, sniffing at the air wildly, your own excitement rubbing off on him. "No! No! Three degrees back to port." Nami's words don't register to you at all as you peer into the fog.

"Add food to the equation and suddenly he knows how to navigate." A beaming smile grows across your face as familiar lights shine through the thinning fog. You hear Zoro move behind you as he asks,

"What is that? Is that land?"

"Can't be. There aren't any islands anywhere near here." You turn back to your navigator, skipping across the deck as you move closer to the railing. You hear Usopp.

"What's a... baratie?" You spin to face Nami, a smug grin meeting her bewildered face through the fog.

She stares ahead as you emerge from the fog, the dipping light of the sun sending warm oranges and pinks dancing across the calm waters surrounding Baratie.

"You said it was a restaurant," she begins, steering the ship into dock along side the fish head bar. "You never mentioned it was a floating restaurant." You shrugged at her.

"Does it matter?"

"Well, yeah, I thought it was on an island. You know? Land? Not bobbing around in the middle of the ocean with nothing to mark it's location." You smile at her.

"I've never needed to look for it on a map, it's never been hard to make my way back here." You shrug, "It's home."

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You all crowd the railings as you look over the dock.

"Everyone's going to that fish ship." Nami leans on the rail beside you with a small smile.

"That smell. I can't believe it, it's actually a restaurant."

"Then I know what we're gonna do next."

"Disguise the ship so the Marines can't find us?"

"Sail back to Syrup Village where it's safe?" You snorted, your and Luffy's first conversation coming to mind.

"Nope." He whacks you on the shoulder and hops off the rail.

"Let's eat!" Zoro squints against the setting sun.

"That fish better have a bar."

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As the group filled in ahead of you, you scanned the docks for any sign of your baby, but it doesn't look to be out the front. That isn't unusual, more often then not you docked her out the back instead, so Patty may have left her back there.

Deciding to get your crew at least seated before you go galivanting off, you head in to find Luffy and Usopp trying to sweet talk the fish-man maître d'.

"Monkey D. Luffy? Perhaps you've heard of him?" Usopp shmooshes. He sighs.

"Well, in that case, we'll find a table." They both cheer and rush to peer over the railing into the main dining room. "In three weeks."

"Sorry about them, Akito." You slip past Nami and Zoro as they stand unimpressed with their captain's shenanigans. "They're with me. All of 'em."

His eyes brighten.

"Ah, Y/n, you're finally back." As you approach the host desk, he grabs your wrist and pulls you in, "Next time you leave for such an extended period, would you mind letting someone know? I don't think any of us can stand Zeff and Sanji's attitudes for a second more." He whispered. "And maybe don't get involved with pirates!"

You raise your eyebrows at him and smile.

"Akito, Zeff was a pirate. And I haven't been gone that much longer than planned, five days, a week at most. You can all survive without my dishwashing services that long." He glared at you.

"Still five days too long." You smile innocently and bat your eyelashes at him.

"Can I please have a table for my crew, my bestest most wonderful excellent glorious phenomenal fishy friend?" You clutch your hands together and drop your chin on to them, blinking up at him. He gives a beleaguered sigh. "With his lovely top fin and sparkly scales?"

"Flattery will not work on everyone, you know." He still slides out from behind the desk, waving for you all to move down the stairs. "Come along, we'll get your," he eyes the others, "crew seated." You clap your hands excitedly.

"You're the best Aki, I wanna go and check out the state of my loveliest baby, if you could please let me know where Patty deserted her?" He rolled his eyes.

"At the tail, where else?" You give his arm a squeeze in thanks and move to rush out the door again, "He says he won't be fetching her again, you know!"

"He always says that!"

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"Get a move on. You're slowing the line." The blue haired chef passes the blonde one staring at the dish he's creating.

"Gotta wait for the sauce to cool."

"I didn't see this on tonight's menu."

"It's called imagination, Patty, I wouldn't expect you to understand." Patty rounds on him.

"You wanna take this outside?"

"Are you asking me to dance? 'Cause I kinda had my eye on that blonde at table eight." The blue haired man huffs at him.

"It won't be staying there long, not if what Akito said is right."

"Oh?"

"Oh yeah, cute little thing just came traipsing in with a whole crew of pirates, 'parently." Sanji pouts his lips, waiting for him to get to the point.

"So?"

"So, apparently this little sweetheart has long h/c hair, aqua and gold eyes and a very fancy embroidered jacket to match." Sanji whirls on him immediately, nearly dropping the plate in his rush to tug the dish cloth off his shoulder and pull the tie on his collar loose.

"Y/n? They're back?" Patty nods.

"Sounds like it. But hey, hey hey hey!" He calls as Sanji shucks off his apron and fumbles with the chefs' white's buttons. "Don't go leaving the line just yet, we're in the middle of service!"

"And they've been missing for days!"

"So a few more hours won't hurt, they're not going anywhere. Just keep your eye on the menu, whatever the hell that is, boss man ain't gonna like it." Sanji passes him with a scoff, putting the plate at the pass.

"Order up!" His call draws the head chef out of the pantry.

"Aye, aye, aye, aye. What the hell is this?"

"I call it a True Bluefin Sauté. It's elephant tuna, seared asparagus in a sweet soy reduction." Zeff chuckles

"Is that so?"

"Yeah."

"Well I call it crap." Sanji drops his hand back to the pass and rolls his eyes. "The day Baratie serves a dish like that, little eggplant, is the day that hell freezes over."

"If I gotta sling one more prime rib medium-well, I am going to drop dead of boredom, you OLD SHITBAG!" Zeff drops the plate on a pile of dishes to be washed.

"It's what we serve."

"It's an insult to the meat."

"You don't like cooking our menu? Fine. 'Cause I'll be more than delighted to give you other work elsewhere. Maybe you can reduce Y/n's workload for when they get back, take over dishwashing for a while."

"They're already back, so if you're that desperate to get rid of the meal, let me give it to them! They'd eat it happily!"

"You so excited to get out of the kitchen for five seconds, congratulations you've got your wish! You are off the line! Now get out there and wait tables. Move!"

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You prance across the dock that loops the Baratie, pressing yourself close to the bobbing restaurant as you turn the tight corner - the one that isn't meant to be a corner, but you've always used it, ignoring the continuous warnings that Zeff wouldn't save you (Sanji would)- to head for the back, passing the kitchen's back door as you go. The smells wash over you and you can hear yelling as you go, but it doesn't bother you as spot your most prized possession.

The Guppy wasn't very impressive in comparison to some of the giants you had seen while sailing her, but she was perfect for you. Smaller than Nami's schooner, she could probably fit four people if you wanted to push. She lacked a figurehead, instead her bow comes up and cups the space around the deck, making a small hideaway of a bowcastle in the shadow of an intricately carved sardine head, large bulbous portholes acting as eyes as the mouth gaped and allowed the fish tackle shaped bowsprit to protrude out, the shape mimicking Baratie's bar. The railing around the edge and the deck of the ship were sitting barren of the messy ropes and stock boxes that usually travelled with you, her triangular sail lowered and droppable mast leaning on the low stern cabin.

A grin stretched across your mouth as you hopped on board. No, you thought, Patty won't be having to go and fetch her again if you can help it.

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Being outside, you don't see Sanji leaving the kitchen in a huff, or take down the squabbling pirates right outside the doors.

You're not at the table as Sanji drops the dish of complimentary rolls and begins his spiel. 

"Hi, welcome to our shitty restaurant, where the only thing worse than the ambience is the food. My name is Sanji. What can I get for you?" Luffy stuffs one of the rolls into his mouth and orders,

"One of everything, please."

"Any drinks? One of our signature cocktails to help choke down your meal?" Nami lounges back in the booth, watching him.

"Giving us the hard sell, huh? Too bad, our friend raved about this place." Sanji's eyebrows rose and he smirked.

"Apologies, madam, I didn't see you there. What was it your friend said about us?"

"Only that this is the best restaurant in the East Blue." And Zoro tacked on,

"With the best chefs and staff."

"And a friend of theirs who's gonna find this thing called the All Blue!" Luffy talked through his mouth full of bread. Sanji's smirk falls as Nami's rises, realisation and hope hitting him, but before he can speak again, a yell rings out from behind them as a customer gets bowled over by a blur in an aqua coat.

"NAMI! I FOUND THE GUPPY AND SHE'S COMING WITH US TO THE GRAND LINE IF IT KILLS ME!" Sanji hops out of the way before you send him flying as your hands slam down on the table so hard all the glasses rattle. You're out of breath from rushing down the stairs and knocking over the patrons, trousers and bandaged hands wet with sea spray before you glance up at your server. "Sanji! Hi, I missed you!"

You don't give the man a chance to speak before you leap up to hug him, arms wrapping around his middle as you tug him into you, and you lift him clean off his feet for a moment. A smile splits his face, his cheeks burning as he drops back to the floor, and he hugs you back tightly, hands gripping the back of your coat hard.

"Where," he starts as he pulls back, "have you been? We've all been going out of our minds, the harbour master in Shells Town sprouted some nonsense to Patty about you raiding a Marine base and Akito said you came in with a load of pirates."

"Yeah!" You replied cheerfully, "'Cause I did!" You gesture at your crew sat around the table staring at you two. He glances at them. "Sanji, this is my crew, Zoro, Nami, Usopp and Luffy, guys this is my Sanji!" Sniggering erupted around the table as they watched his face redden. 

"Right.. Makes complete sense for you to hitch a ride home with 'pirates.'" Luffy finally looks up from the now demolished bread basket and 'ooohs' at the pair of you.

"This," he points to Sanji, "this is your friend, the cook! The one who's coming with us." You nod happily as Sanji looks between you and the captain.

"I," Sanji replies, "am not going anywhere except to take your orders to the kitchen, and you," he grabs a hold of your arm, pulling you tight against him, "are coming with me. Are there any drink orders before we go?" Zoro clears his throat.

"Can I get a beer, and something for my friends?" Sanji's eye twitches as Zoro's sweep over the rest of the table.

"Two beers. I usually have three, but-" Luffy interrupts before Usopp can begin a tangent.

"And a milk."

"Three beers and a milk. And, uh, for madam?" You look up at Sanji as he teasingly looks to Nami.

"Water."

"That all? We have lots of options."

"Yeah, still, sparkling, mineral? With ice or without? Cubed or crushed?"

Nami's wide eyes look to you for help and your own roll back.

"Normal water will do fine, let's go. I've missed you guys, I want to see Zeff!" As you pull a chuckling Sanji along with you, you hear the boys teasing Nami about being called 'madam' and feel bad for leaving her for a moment.

It passes quickly though, as Sanji slips his arm through yours to guide you into the kitchen.

The usual chattering between the chefs quiets down for a moment and silence rings. Sanji completely ignores it besides a small smirk, calling out the order of "one of literally everything on the menu, 3 beers, a milk and a water, thanks" as the moustachioed head chef comes out to see why everyone's gone quiet.

"Y/n." Zeff calls across the kitchen and you duck around the pass to look at him.

"Hi Zeff! I'm home!" You smile cheerily as he approaches, peg leg forcing an awkward gait as he crosses the kitchen. Sanji steps away from you as you stretch your arms out in a hug, not really expecting one, but you can hope. You don't expect him to whip out a rolled up newspaper and smack it down on your head with a loud 'thwack!'

"Where have you been, you little donkey? What did you do?!" You rub your head and back into Sanji, pushing your arms back to shield him.

"Nowhere! Nothing! Well not nowhere, I've been a few places but-"

"Nothing?!" Zeff yells, flattening out the paper to reveal your face, blood on your cheek and eyes wide and unfocused, staring back at you from a wanted poster listed with a bounty of twelve million Berries. "NOTHING?!"

You look at the poster, bewildered for a second before you grimace, turning your head away and peeking at Sanji over your shoulder. He's staring, aghast, at the paper.

"Ok, maybe not nothing." The edge of the paper creases under Zeff's grip.

"My office." He barks. "Now."

You hunch your shoulders and start moving. Zeff has an incredible ability to make you feel like a child caught causing trouble at any given moment. Normally, it's just the feeling but, for once, you know you messed up.

"Not you." He puts a firm hand on Sanji's chest pushing him back to the doors. "There are still tables needing served, hop to."

"They just got back," Sanji argues, "and I'm not going to leave them alone to get yelled at by you, you curmudgeonly old sack of rank cabbage!"

"That was a good one." Sanji shoots you a smile,

"Thanks."

"MOVE, NAKAYOSHI!"

"I'M MOVING!" You roar back in equal volume and march ahead into his office, slamming the door closed behind you.

You drop into the stool next to the desk, the one that's too small for you now, the one reserved primarily for you because the big chair was for Zeff, and Sanji is more likely to perch moodily -on the desk as a child, putting himself between you and the older man, now, as an adult, against the wall, like some kind of long, blonde poser.

You look over the papers scattered across the desk, inventory and stock, receipts and changes to be implemented to the menu. In the corner, partially hidden by the dry brown plant you bought him as a birthday present a year ago and just in sight below the map of the East Blue, is where two pictures are tacked, one of the three of you at the grand opening of the Baratie, and the other from your 13th birthday, five years ago now, a 14-year-old Sanji's arm draped across your shoulders. Your nose itches and your eyes start to burn.

The door behind you slams open and shut, but your eyes don't drift from the photographs as Zeff collapses into the chair with a huff. He takes a heaving breath and leans forward on his knees, pulling the chef's hat from his head and dropping it on the desk, and moves into your eyeline of the photos.

"What did you do, little donkey?"

If Sanji could hear him, he wouldn't believe the softness in Zeff's voice. The gruff man always was a bit gentler around you. As a child you barely spoke, following Sanji like a sentient shadow, only moving away because you sensed anger or danger being directed at him, and even then it was only to bite or claw at the cause, the scars littering his skin acting as proof. You had always been viciously protective of him, of your Sanji, and though he never asked, Zeff always wondered why. So, while he kept up the facade of tough love with Sanji, pushing him to fulfil his dream and achieve bigger and better things than hanging about the restaurant, in private with you, he softened. His rougher behaviour had only distanced you at the beginning, even after the display of your Devil Fruit power revealed his own dream about the All Blue. It took months of gentle prodding and tales of his adventures in search of it before you began to open up.

To him, you were still a bit too achey, too broken to be treated roughly, a unknown but violent history obvious in the stark brands of '66' and a crossed out '3' on your hands that he had only discovered after hearing a clatter of falling objects in the kitchen at night, where he found you, not even a teenager yet, wielding a large sharp knife and scoring at them with thick deep slices in complete silence, to his horror. They had scarred over, too deep to properly heal and had left a fierce shaking in their wake. Sanji had never seen them, as you kept them wrapped tightly in bandages or otherwise covered, even now when they'd long since healed. You hadn't cried that night, sitting completely soundless as he had sewn up and wrapped them best he could. You weren't crying now, but the tears were gathering in your water line. 

"I messed up."

"I noticed."

"No, I-" your voice cracked and the humour from Zeff's couldn't do much to combat it. "I meet this boy, he's a pirate," Zeff sits up eyeing you dangerously. "Not like that, you old shitbag. His dream knocked me off my feet. He wants to be King of the Pirates, to find the One Piece, and its on the Grand Line and I thought," your lips trembled, "I thought I could help, that I could be useful for once with this stupid, stupid power, and I thought Sanji could come and we could finally look for the All Blue, the two of us, like we said we would, but everything just-"

The tears were coming now thick and fast and you gasped for breath as you rubbed at them, Zeff's eyes burning into your head as you worked your fists over you face, rubbing it raw.

"-everything just kept getting worse. We had to sneak into a Marine base and steal a map," His eyebrows rocked up, "and there were the Marines at Dye Town, they sucked, and then there was the stupid fucking clown who nearly drowned me, and the Black Cats in Syrup Village trying to kill a girl and there was this man-" you sucked in another breath and squeezed your eyes shut as Roku's face, first vengeful and enraged, and then empty and lifeless flashed through your mind, "-he was going to kill me. He was going to kill me, and he said I wasn't from the North Blue, and I didn't understand, and I wasn't going to get to see Sanji again or you or Patty or anybody, and I didn't mean to, I thought I was gonna die, it wasn't me you have to believe me, I didn't want to-"

You collapsed into Zeff chest, sobs ripping your entire body and he dropped the half crumpled wanted poster on to the desk, wrapping you up and pulling you into his lap like you were still that achy broken little kid that left scars on his cheeks to try and save the one thing that still held some meaning. He rocked you, slow and gentle, not shushing you, just petting your head and rocking, like he had wanted to so badly, like he would have if you had cried that day as a child.

He let you cry yourself out in his lap, face red and runny from tears, and he didn't let you go until you finally pulled back yourself. You settled back into the stool, knees bent awkwardly, and you looked at each other. You cleared your throat.

"Also Luffy's grandfather," you look at Zeff's raised eyebrow, "the pirate boy, his name's Luffy." He oh'd, "his grandfather is a vice-admiral in the Marines, the tall scary one that eats, like, twelve steaks in one go." He ignores your "all medium-rare too" and snorts.

"Yeah. I know the one." He looks you over again, sitting with your arms crossed like you were only barely holding yourself together. "Guessing that's what the bounty's for then?" You look at him. "The first man?" Your lips thin out and you nod.

"He was one of the Black Cat Pirates. He was nasty."

"Still doesn't feel good that you've killed him though, aye?" You shake your head, eyes to the ground. "Good. You don't want it to. Hold on to that feeling. Winning a fight to the death because you want to live is one thing, winning it because you want to kill..." His eyes go distant, memories fogging over his mind for a second before he shakes them away. "Just," he sighs, "don't let yourself enjoy killing. That feeling in your gut, the one making you sick of yourself, that keeps you human. Don't you loose that." You only nod in response as you both sit, quiet once again. He flattens the poster again, smoothing out the creases as he looks it over. "Not bad for a first bounty. Not the worst picture of you either." You snort at him as he chuckles, lifting it clear of his desk.

"I look deranged. Terrifying."

"You look," he takes a tack and pins it to the wall alongside the other pictures and the map, "like a pirate. Definitely one that could take on the Grand Line."

You give him a watery smile, the man who has stood with you for most of your life at this point, and his eyes soften and watch you warmly.

There's a knock at the door. You cough and wipe your face again as Zeff pulls it open, revealing a chuckling Sanji holding a bill. His smile drops when he sees your red face, the swirling aqua and gold more watery then usual and he glares hotly at Zeff for a moment. You both ignore him as Zeff snatches the bill from him to read.

"I'll say Y/n," he flicks his hair from his face, "I didn't know what to make of that 'crew' of yours, but they're turning out to be absolutely hysterical." You watch as Zeff's face slowly turns red, and peer over his shoulder. On the bill is signed 'IOU' and the name 'MONKEY D. LUFFY'.

"Oh no."

"Oh yes!"

"Where they sat?" Zeff is quiet, that's never a good sign.

"Zeff-" You try but Zeff is already heading for the doors to the dining hall.

"Table 11." Your head snaps to Sanji, glaring at the grin he was sporting. "What? He asked!" You ignore him,

"Shit. Zeff!" He busts through the doors calling

"Who the hell is Monkey D. Luffy?" You see his head, straw hat and all, pop out from the booth.

"Here!"

"You seem to be confused about the rules of the house," The entire kitchen staff had poured out behind you, but you ignored them as you grabbed Zeff's arm, tugging it desperately for his attention,

"Zeff, no! I'll cover it, take it from my pay, my money! I can cover it, just leave him be!" He shushed you and you fell off his arm, shuffling back into Sanji who stood, smiling like a merry fool at the show.

"Baratie doesn't offer credit. You eat, you pay."

You could roll up into a ball and die as you hear your captain begin to speak.

"I think you're confused. The meal has already been paid for. I just haven't given you the money yet." Sanji looks down at you chuckling gently.

"You ok, mon Cœur?"

"I think I'm going to cry again, this is awful."

Zeff sneered at the boy.

"Yeah, and how's that?"

"You can add it to my treasure tab." You had sunk to the floor at this point, your desperate grip on Sanji's leg the only thing keeping you partially upright.

"Please make him stop."

"And what, pray tell, is that?"

"I may not look like a big deal yet, but you're talking with the future King of the Pirates. And as soon as I find the One Piece, I'm gonna come back here, pay this bill in full and with interest."

"Ha, I got a better idea." And Zeff grabs Luffy by the shirt, pulling him with him, past your prone form and the still laughing Sanji, into the kitchen. "What're you chuckling about?" Sanji sobers immediately, helping pull you to your feet as Zeff watches him, "Back to work."

Pushing through the doors behind your captain and your head chef, you listen to him rant.

"You, Mr Future-King-of-the-Pirates, are gonna be my new chore boy. You're gonna pay off your debt washing dishes." With a yelp, Luffy is pushed forward, barely avoiding the tall pile of dishes left by all the patrons.

"All of these?"

"For starters. You gotta remember something, the meal you had with your friends? That's one year's worth of dishes. I'd get a move on if I was you. Second service is in one hour." Behind him the door opens as Sanji re-enters the kitchen, and Zeff turns to him pulling off the suit jacket. "Oy, oy, oy, oy, oy, oy, oy! What you think you're doing?"

"Come on, old man. Enough's enough."

"Put the jacket back on, little eggplant. You're not done with your shift yet."

"Let me back on the line or I walk." Your head snaps round to him, eyes wide while he avoids looking at you, focusing squarely on Zeff.

"You can walk right back into the ocean for all I care. You cook another meal like that in my kitchen, it's going right where the last one did." You look away from the argument, one you heard variations of for years, and followed Luffy's line of sight. Sat precariously on the piles of dishes, is one meal that you don't recognise, still perfectly plated. Two cuts of tuna, seared asparagus resting in a sauce or reduction of some kind.

"You can kick me out of the kitchen all you like. I'll never be a waiter." You join Luffy in tasting the sauce, sweeping a touch up on your pinkie like Sanji and Zeff always did.

"Well that's fine by me. You sure as hell are never gonna be a cook in my restaurant. Have you got it?"

The sweetened sauce makes you smile gently, throwing a wild guess out that this was Sanji's dish. Zeff snarls after him as he walks out the back door, leaving the cooks to their job and you and Luffy to yours. He turns to look at you both as you slip an apron over your head as well, the dark navy matching the one donned by your captain.

"Don't you do his work for him." You ignore him, pulling your long hair from the loop and twirling it from a curly mess of a pony tail into a crooked bun.

"I'm not, I'm a crewmember helping their captain." Zeff's eyes flash to the beaming Luffy as you grab two scrubbers and pull a pair of yellow dish washing gloves up your arms.

"Well," he mutters, "let him do most of the work then, if he's gonna call himself a captain."

"Heard, chef." Zeff snorts and walks out.

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Luffy puffs as he rolls another trolley of dishes into the kitchen, pulling to a stop alongside where you were working, at a much slower pace than normal, with Sanji perched on the counter beside you, handing you dishes.

"Hey choreboy," he snickers, "how's that dish pile coming along?" You don't wait for Luffy to answer.

"It would've been better if somebody had kept up with the pile while I was away, don't you think?" You give him a stink eye as he shies away from you, mouth pulled into a tight apologetic smile. Luffy sighed.

"It never seems to get any smaller."

"You get used to it," you mumble, "It's better at night when service is done. And hey," you nudged him with your elbow, your hands still soapy, "at least this water won't catch fire as easy."

"Yeah, the old man's a real piece of work."

"He's not that bad Sanji."

"Mon cœur, he made you cry."

"That wasn't him, it was..." You sigh. "Other stuff that happened, don't worry about."

"Well now I'm worried. Bet your captain regrets that IOU."

"I don't really do regret. No point in looking back,"

"Lucky you. Sometimes, when I try to look ahead, all I see is back." Luffy lifts another pile of dishes into the water.

"So how long you been a waiter?"

"Oh please don't start." Sanji's finger covers your mouth and he leans forward to correct him.

"I'm not a waiter, I'm a cook. Best one in the East Blue."

"Oh! I knew that already, Y/n told me!" He scoffed, a slight smile on his face as he looked down at you, continuing your scrubbing.

"Not that it matters. As long as the old man's in charge, I'm banned from the line."

"But that meal you cooked was incredible." Your eyes widened and you groan in agreement.

"Soooo good."

"The True Bluefin Sauté?" 

"Yeah."

"You both tried it?"

"Yeah, of course we did! I couldn't help myself." You nudged his knee with a smile.

"Knew it was yours, was too good to be anyone else's'."

"I didn't think the food here could get any better. You know," Luffy spoke thoughtfully, "you're a really good cook. Why is Zeff making you wait tables?" Your eyes roll back at this topic again and mouth along with Sanji as he replies,

"'Cause he's jealous. I should be running this place, but the old man's so stubborn, it'll never happen."

"Is that your dream? To be head chef of the Baratie?" He looks down at you, it was different from what you had said. Sanji laughed and disagreed.

"Nah."

"So you love to cook. You just don't want to cook here?" Sanji flicks his lighter open and lights a cigarette.

"There's, um, this place, Y/n might have told you about it, where you can find ingredients from all four seas. East Blue, West Blue, North and South. They call it the All Blue." Luffy's eye zip to you in recognition, but you're smiling up at Sanji, the familiar thrumming warmth of his dream washing over you in waves. "Nobody knows where it is, but there's fish there that have never been seen. Ya know, rare seaweeds, spices that have never been tasted. It is a cook's paradise, and," his eyes drop from Luffy to you and the small smile on his face grew bigger, "we're gonna find it one day. That's my dream."

"If you want to cook, you should cook. Don't let some stubborn old man get in the way of your dream. Stand up to him, tell him what you want." Sanji's lips press together and you both look at Luffy.

"It's more complicated, than that."

"I don't really do complicated either."

"We noticed, Luf." A small smile twists up your lips.

You're disturbed by a banging against the back door as a voice calls out.

"Help me. Help." Sanji snuffs out his cigarette as the man lets himself in, dirty white tracksuit emblazoned with snakes, and he stumbles, falling to the floor, "Please, help me." He begs as Sanji helps him to sit at the small table.

"You okay?" Sanji mumbles to him as they sit him down.

"I'm so hungry, please." Sanji claps him on the shoulder, moving around the kitchen to grab up ingredients as you set out clean dishes for him to use.

"Okay, you got it, man. How does some corned-beef friend rice sound?" As Sanji paces through the kitchen, Patty comes through wiping his hands.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"At Baratie, everyone eats."

"And who's gonna pay for that? This is a business. We can't be giving handouts to every down-on-his-luck pirate that washes up." You left the opened bag of rice onto the counter and push it towards him, and he fills his pot, shaking out the excess and topping it with water to cook.

"If a man is hungry, I feed him." Sanji moves past the blue haired chef, grabbing the wrapped pack of corned beef.

"Zeff kicked you off the line."

"I don't see the old man here. Do you?"

"Just drop it Patty, come on." He throws his hands up at the pair of you.

"Your funerals." You and Luffy look at each other as Sanji begins to cook.

As the older pirate scarfs down the bowl of rice he breathes heavily.

"I was drifting out there for a week. You saved my life tonight." Sanji smiles up from where he's cleaning his station, you further behind him, trying to finish the still huge pile of dishes Luffy had abandoned.

"You're not only a good cook, you're a good guy." Your captain was perched beside the older man as he ate. "If Zeff doesn't appreciate you, you should join my crew." You shake your head with a smile, you're sure it will take more than that to convince your Sanji to leave the old man. "I'm serious. For real."

You call over your shoulder,

"That doesn't happen often Sanji!"

"Sorry chore boy. I've already got a job." Knew it.

"But you're not happy here. Neither of you are, and Y/n's already agreed to join!" You don't see Sanji's smile drop. "Their family lives on the Grand Line, we can look for them too! And we're gonna need a great cook if we're gonna find the One Piece." You don't notice that Sanji had completely stilled as the pirates spoon clatters into the bowl.

"The One Piece?"

"Yeah, I'm gonna find it and become King of the Pirates."

"We're were searching for it too. I was part of a mighty pirate armada. Our captain was hell-bent on finding Gold Roger's treasure, but the Grand Line was his undoing. We lost 50 ships and 5,000 men. I was the only survivor." The man looks pleadingly at Luffy. "Save yourself. Forget you ever heard of the One Piece."

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Sanji had long since left the kitchen, and you let him. His fury at you was never loud, even when stranded together or raged at by customers and co-workers alike, if he had anger towards you, it always sat, simmering silently. He never yelled, not like he did with Zeff. He and the old man were alike like that, always softening for you to avoid hurting you further. He would stand on the docks or up on the small outcrop outside your shared window and would smoke and fume and fume and smoke, before coming to talk to you.

You knew he wasn't pleased about Luffy saying you were leaving, so you left him to think and smoke and fume. You would find him later, or he would find you. You always did.

You had finally given up doing the dishes. Leaving the rest to Luffy, you were sitting off to the side stretching your shaking hands, now devoid of washing gloves. Being tired always made the shaking and stiffness worse, and scrubbing for hours on end always left them aching, so you dug your curled and stiff knuckles into the palms to relieve the aching.

"Right, we done yet?" You turn to Zeff as he walks up and wince as Luffy sends plates crashing to the ground to shatter. You drop your forehead on to your hands. Zeff snorts at him. "You're lousier at it then Y/n, but at least you do as you're told in this kitchen."

"If you think Sanji's gonna give up on his dream because of you, then forget it." Zeff peered down at you and you shook your head defeated. Luffy wasn't going to give up on this tirade until he was given the full story, and that wasn't up to you alone. You would let one of the two men share it with him.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me." Luffy advanced on to Zeff, standing nearly toe-to-toe with the man. "You may have banned him from the line, but you can't stop him from cooking."

"Oh really?

"Luffy-" you tried to cut in but he was on a roll.

"Yeah, really. This starving pirate washed up earlier, and you know what Sanji did? He cooked for him! Right here in your kitchen, because your rules matter less to him than making sure a hungry man got fed." You release a long sigh and prop your head on your hand, watching as Zeff lets out a quiet laugh.

"He did that, did he? What a good kid."

Before he could continue, Usopp barges through the doors swaying dangerously. You stand to right him as he gestures back behind him.

"Luffy, we've got a problem."

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"Maybe you can convince him to call it off." Nami's voice sounded from the galley as you Luffy and Usopp walked in.

"I won't do that."

"Did you see the size of that guy's sword? He will slice you into sashimi."

"What's going on?"

"Yeah, who are we talking about here?"

"I'll tell you what's going on." Nami rounded on Luffy, "Your big, bad Marine grandpa sent a Warlord of the Sea to bring you in, and instead of getting the hell out of here when he had the chance, Zoro challenged him to a duel."

"Which he accepted."

"Oh." The noise fell from your mouth before you could stop it. "Mihawk then."

Nami and Zoro's eyes snap to you.

"You knew?"

"I saw him when I saw your dream. He's..." you hesitated looking for the right word. "...good. The best, really." You wring your hands together and squeeze, "I don't know if this is the right time for you to fight him though."

"So you're a magical alarm clock now too?" Zoro sneered. Nami turned her arguments to him again.

"You are a fly to him. Something to be swatted and forgotten."

"Not if I win."

"You're not going to win."

"Guys, guys, maybe we need more drinks." You stare at him as he waves his hat.

"Usopp, you smell like one of the fish bowl cocktails we serve, you don't need anymore alcohol." You look around the table, "None of us do, not at the moment." Nami looks to Luffy.

"Tell your first mate he's going to get himself killed." Zoro interrupted her sentence before she was done.

"Tell your navigator and your compass to butt out." Luffy shrugged.

"Maybe this isn't such a great idea Zoro."

"When you met me tied up on that cross, what did I say?" You and Luffy begin to answer.

"'Get lost.'."

"'What makes you think I wanna play pirates with you?'."

Zoro rolled his eyes at you both.

"No the other thing."

"'You don't know anything about me.'?"

"'I kill your kind for a living.'?"

"No! Come-" he groans but looks up at you. You realise what he's saying and turn away, looking at the floor as Luffy 'oh's beside you.

"That you made a promise to someone a long time ago to be the world's greatest swordsman."

"The only way to do that is to beat Mihawk in a duel and take his title. I intend to do just that."

"But," you stutter out, "you don't have to do it now." You glance at Nami and Usopp who are nodding in agreement, "You can take a bit longer, there isn't a time limit on these things-"

"SHUT-" You flinch as he slams his fist down on the table and growls to himself, "You have no idea what you're talking about. All this spouting of wanting to help people achieve their dreams and whatever and you're sitting here completely aimless, following around whoever decides to give you the time of day. You have," he spits out at you, "no idea."

You stand frozen as the argument continues around you. Nami tells off Zoro and Luffy, yelling that he's her friend before he snubs her too. As she pushes back from the table, she walks out and you follow her, returning to Baratie for the night.

Walking down the stairs to the staff quarters above the restaurant and dining room, you pass Zeff and a few of the other cooks, including Patty, eating quietly in the small kitchen/dining area that you all use. The large pot of fried rice with egg and whatever meats that could be chucked in sat on the stove pot. 

Your stomach turned at the smell, appetite none existent after the argument. You don't see them turn to watch you, or Zeff stopping them from calling out to you as you wander up the stairs to your room.

You push open the door to see the window wide open and Sanji's back is to you, already dressed for bed as he leaned against the railing, looking over the water with a cigarette in his hand. You don't bother turning on the lamp. When he didn't turn to greet you, you left him be, instead shuffling behind the changing screen to slip on some of random strewn-about clothes to sleep in. You hang up your coat on the coat hook on the back of the door and move to your bed, the blankets and pillows littering the single mattress. It was messier than you left it, but you assume at some point Sanji had decided to swap, his own crisply pressed sheets tucked in tight and untouched, the only spot of colour being the fluffy blue cushion you always left there when he makes his bed. He did so sometimes, if you were away longer than intended, commandeering your space until your return.

You drop face down on to the bed, and lay there, arm hanging off the side, crossing the halfway point of the tiny box room you and Sanji have shared since forever. Your calves are bare in the sleep shorts you donned, the scratches littering them from the gravel at Kaya's mansion and the bruising from the fall down the hill are left to the open air, and scruffy old t-shirt leaving your chains uncovered too, the spot where they meet your wrists still red raw. You hear Sanji shuffle, snuffing out his cigarette and clambering back inside, pulling the window closed behind him. You hear the sheets rustle as he pulls them down and slips into them, probably shoving your cushion into the wall so he didn't lie on it.

Then you both lie, in silence, the only sound being each others breathing.

A beat.

"I think," you break the silence, quiet voice louder than you meant in the stillness, "my friend is going to die."

Sanji doesn't reply.

But in the darkness, you feel as his hand drops into your palm, fingers interweaving with yours.

And you fall into the most comfortable sleep you'd had in days, eased by the smell of home and the warmth of his hand in yours.

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As the sun rises in the morning, you walk on to the Going Merry and go down into the galley, where Zoro stood arming himself.

He stands with his back to you, and doesn't turn except to slide the trio of sheaths into his belt loops. You pull and squeeze at your fingers, twining them together and cracking your knuckles, the pain shooting across them a welcome distraction, if only for a second.

"I don't think you'll listen to me," you begin, voice soft but your words desperate to escape, "I'm not surprised. I felt your dream, I felt the pain it brings you, and the determination." He turns his ear closer to you, black bandana obscuring his hair. "I don't know her name, but I could feel how important she was to you, how important she still is to you. And me asking you this isn't to lessen her importance, or to make you give up on your dream all together. I just think," you stumble for the words, tongue growing heavy as he stands completely rigid, "would it not be better, to train, and to know you can beat him easily, rather than just saying 'screw it he's here now' and dying in the process?"

His hand rests on the hilt of his sword. You purse your lips and hesitate, but the words come out anyway.

"Would she want you dead too?"

It was the worst thing to say.

You know that as soon as it comes out of your mouth, but you don't have time to regret it, as Zoro pulls the sword, the one with the white hilt she had wielded, free of its holding, and swipes at you. You drop to the ground, rolling away from his next swing and back out the door. He follows, stopping in the door frame and filling it completely.

"Don't you ever ask me something like that-" he growled out,

"I'm sorry, it wasn't-"

"-you know nothing about me," he marches on you again, and you move back further, scrambling up the stairs backwards as your hands hit them,

"-I know, I'm sorry-"

"You know nothing about her, about my history, my promises-"

"-I just-"

"-don't you dare show your face at this duel, or I will-"

"-I JUST DON'T WANT YOU TO DIE!" You cut him off completely, and you both stop, panting as he glared down at you. You swallow harshly, your eyes beginning to water in frustration. "Winning a fight to the death because you want to live is one thing, doing it, fighting him like this just because you want to the title..." You shake your head of the thoat, "No matter what promises you made Zoro, you're just as scared as we are, you just can't let yourself admit."

His face darkens with anger again.

"Don't-" You cut him off.

"Don't try and tell me you're not. I've seen this plenty of times, I was raised on it." You take a deep breath and stand, putting yourself toe-to-toe and face-to-face with him. "You can't fulfil your dream if you're dead Roronoa Zoro. I respect that you want to win," your voice cracks, "but you cannot become the greatest swordsman dead." You blink and pull back, turning to walk up the stairs and leave him to his preparations.

"Nakayoshi." You stop at his voice and turn to look down at him, face blank. "Don't come down to the duel this morning. Stay with your waiter. I'm sure they'll have some use for you, scrubbing dishes or something." His words leave him with bite, but your face doesn't shift.

You're so tired.

"Please don't die Zoro." You reply with no emotion, "for her sake, and your own." You turned.

And you left.

Next Chapter: Mon Cœur Est Un Petit Âne

[waterdeep-weavemoss]

*the rhythm of the sea changed to an unnatural pattern for a moment. In the distance a smaller ship sped through the waves with the telltale orange flag with a black circle and black square signalling distress.Waves moved against the current forming a miniature whirlpool only around the distressed vessel's rudder. As the distressed vessel sped past the starboard side the ship rocked sending Doe and those in the cabin towards the floor. Those on the upper decks or watching out portholes saw the waves targeting the smaller ship constantly were changing but maintained the same angry overtone as the smaller vessel was smashed bapped between two waves the way a cat torments a mouse in a doomed fate. Even if the captain ordered a rescue mission the waves would keep the ship outside the wake of destruction. The doomed vessel shattered into four even pieces before slowly sinking to the watery grave fate deemed necessary and barely visible to the ragtag crew. A flag splattered with a fresh spray of sanguine color floats by the only thing attached to it was a severed arm of an elf who failed in their attempts to cling to the mast for survival floated by the ship. Two waves mimicking arms waved like a queen greeting their adoring yet terrified citizens. Whatever caused the vessel's distress remained unclear but in their hurry seemed to anger the bitch queen. The sea returned to a uniform calmish pattern but seemed to be watching our motley crew with enthusiasm.*

-B.Q U

~

[cosette141]

The Only One Who Saves Me | OUAT fanfic | CS gift exchange gift (1/3)

MERRY CHRISTMAS @i-will-sing-no-requiem !!!! I was your CS gift exchange santa this year!! :D I very much enjoyed obsessing over Taylor Swift with you haha! :)

Your gift is a 3-parter! 😱😆

This is the main fic I worked on for you! I ran with your prompt of Emma or Killian rescuing the other :)

Summary: (CS movie divergence) Killian gets his dashing rescue, and Emma is no longer the only one who saves her. :)

AO3

Killian ran, hard and fast. He's been out of breath for most of the last mile but he didn't stop.

Emma.

Nearly an hour ago, Emma was taken by Regina's guards.

He could only remember standing in that ballroom, watching them drag her away, every muscle in his body coiled to run after her, to fight them all off even if he had to bloody kill them, to save her, but at the same time, knew that he wouldn't have survived such an attack.

If he was to save Emma, and he would, he needed to be smart.

He needed to do this quietly.

For a moment, Killian had considered trying to find Emma's parents. The prince and princess could certainly help, however risking their lives was out of the question. If one of them died, there wouldn't even be an Emma to save.

That very thought was the only thing that was on Killian's mind.

Her parents were back on track, Snow White had the ring.

But none of that mattered if Killian couldn't save Emma now.

His heart was pounding so hard it hurt and Killian could only remember one time in his life that he's been this scared, and back then, he'd been tied to a mast on his own bloody ship.

But somehow, this felt more terrifying, and that very thought scared him almost more than the fear he wouldn't make it to her in time.

Killian knew Regina's ways; she wouldn't kill Emma tonight. Regina liked to watch the execution of Snow White's supporters every morning after she caught them. Like some sort of twisted breakfast entertainment.

However, even the knowledge that he had until morning to save Emma didn't help the fact that he still had to break into the bloody castle and get to her before he was killed.

He'd done it before, he knew how to get in and to find his way to the dungeons.

But the bloody rule not to mess with the timeline which meant he couldn't kill anyone if he needed to only made his heart beat even faster.

Killian finally stopped when he saw the silhouette of the castle over the hill. He stared at it warily, catching his breath.

"I'm coming, Emma," he whispered to the air.

And he started on his way, clinging to shadows.

I will find you, love.

And he won't stop until he does.

Emma huffed a defeated breath, sinking heavily back to the ground.

The lock was too far; she couldn't reach it.

Emma threw the wire she'd found back to the ground with burning eyes. That was her only chance. In a last ditch effort, Emma shut her eyes, trying to feel the magic inside her.

But it wasn't there, no matter how hard she searched for it.

Rumplestiltskin had already given them that wand to use when they'd successfully completed their mission—in Killian's possession since his ensemble had pockets—but Emma already knew even with it it was useless.

Her magic was still gone.

With an audible groan, she gave up trying to get out of here, dropping her face over her crossed arms.

Something about this felt eerily similar, being here, alone in a jail cell.

"Sorry, sweetheart, your boy took off."

She could still remember the first day she spent in prison.

Alone.

Terrified.

She'd curled herself tight on the cot, arms wrapped around her shins, and she didn't sleep a wink.

She waited.

She waited for someone to come, tell her that it was all a misunderstanding, to let her go.

Waited for Neal to show up, to break her out, to save her.

But he never came.

No one ever came.

Not for eleven months.

Not ever.

Emma didn't even realize she was crying until she felt the dirty sleeves of the dress dampen with hot tears.

Did Hook know she was missing?

He'd been taking out the guards on the balcony; he might not even know she was taken. Or by whom.

But even if he did know she was taken, Emma wasn't going to get her hopes up.

Breaking into Regina's castle to save her? The odds of him succeeding were low at best.

He'd be risking his life even thinking about doing such a thing.

Emma suddenly wondered where he was, what he would do, trapped in the past.

Because the last thing she'd ever believe was that he was going to come back for her.

Save her.

No one ever does.

Emma suddenly heard footsteps.

She lifted her face from her arms, where she was huddled in the far corner of the cell, arms still wrapped around her shins, the facsimile of a hug that felt too shallow and cold to be called such a thing.

The footsteps were running. Fast.

Guards.

Emma's heart pounded.

Was it morning already?

Was she out of time?

As much as she had planned to be strong, to fight them, to save herself, panic was suddenly consuming her.

She was going to be executed.

So when the shadow crossed the walls, getting closer and closer, Emma just curled in on herself tighter, trying to swallow the rising fear.

But—

"Emma!"

Emma's fear halted, traded for shock.

Hook.

It was Hook.

The moment he saw her, he ran to the bars of the cell, eyes on her, his relief at finding her quickly dashed. Concern bloomed. "Emma, love," he whispered.

Emma blinked in shock.

He was here.

He came back for her.

Someone came back for her.

She shot to her feet and rushed to the bars, standing inches from him. Her fingers grasped the bar, wondering if she was dreaming. "Hook?"

"Thank the gods I found you," he breathed, a slight, relieved smile at the victory. His eyes then shifted to the bars, looking for—

"It's at the top," whispered Emma quickly. "The lock. I couldn't reach it."

Hook located it, reaching for the lock and using his hook to pick it. A few precious moments ticked by, and Emma could read every anxiety in his face until the lock clicked open, and the chain fell free.

Hook ripped the door open.

Freedom.

But Emma wasn't half as relieved by the freedom as she was by him.

She didn't even think; she grabbed him in a tight hug, practically clinging to him.

He stumbled a little by the force of it, surprised. She held him tightly, eyes shut, relief rushing through her in waves as she breathed in his scent. Familiarity. Safeness. Home.

She didn't know when she'd started thinking of him as home, but right now, she didn't care.

She felt him hold her back after a hesitation of shock. Just as tightly as she held him. "Are you all right?" he whispered. "Are you hurt?"

"You came," she found herself whispering. Her voice like broken confusion.

A tear fell down her cheek.

His hold on her tightened a little. "Of course I came," he said. He pulled back a little. "You thought I wouldn't?" he asked incredulously, like the idea hurt him. But a noise somewhere nearby like a door opening made both of them freeze and Killian's grip on her tighten even more. "We need to get you out of here. Now," he said quickly, eyes locked with hers, fear in them.

Fear for her.

"Come," he breathed, and without hesitation Emma's hand intertwined with his, and she suddenly felt like she never ever wanted to let go.

Killian led the way, seeming to know his way around, and Emma didn't stop to question it. She was glued to his side as they clung to the shadows, every usual strength within her strangely gone, replaced with the fear of her seventeen year old self, trapped in prison with no way out.

Their run through the castle was like a blur of panic, and Emma heard Killian whisper, "We're nearly there, love." And Emma only then realized she was practically crushing his hand.

But they rounded a corner, and Killian skidded to a stop, just as two guards saw them both.

"Bloody hell," cursed Killian.

"The prisoner!" cried one of the guards, recognizing Emma. "The one who aided Snow White's escape!"

"Get her!" growled the other, both unsheathing swords, and Emma felt paralyzed.

"Get behind me!" exclaimed Killian in a desperate breath, releasing her hand—something that felt like panic itself to her—so he could draw his sword.

Emma listened to him, allowing someone else to take control for the first time in what felt like her life, because hell she knew how to fight with her fists but not against swords and not with flashes of the past blinding her, and she felt her hands grasp the back of Killian's jacket, needing something tethering her to him.

He fought off the first guard, both men caught in a flurry of blades, and suddenly Emma felt a burly arm grab her around the waist and yank her back.

"Emma!"

Emma struggled, managing to land her elbow in the man's gut, making him grunt in enough pain to release his hold. And Emma's hands fisted, her heart pounding as she prepared to fight—

But she didn't need to.

Because suddenly Killian was there, standing firmly in front of her, protecting her, knocking out the man with the hilt of his sword.

Both guards lay unconscious on the ground.

Emma was still shaking.

But Killian's hand suddenly found her face, making her look at him. Such determination shone in his eyes. "I won't let anyone take you. I promise." Emma felt her breath skip, a wave of relief feeling like warm sunlight because, for the first time, she didn't have to protect herself alone. Sheathing his sword, Killian again took her hand, holding her even tighter. "Come," he breathed.

They continued on their way out of the castle, this time making it without trouble. But they didn't stop running until they were well away from it, and could no longer even see the castle in the distance.

And without hesitation, Emma dove into his arms, hers wrapped tightly around his waist, burying her face in his chest.

She was crying and for the first time in her life she didn't care that the tears fell, or that they did in front of someone else.

Because for the first time in her life, someone saved her.

For the first time in her life, she didn't have to do it herself.

She could hear him saying her name, his voice surprised, worried, gentle.

She felt him pull back a little, though his arms never loosened around her.

Killian looked at her, noting the tear tracks on her face, old and new, the dirt and the scratches from the rough handling of her by the guards. It looked like his heart broke in his eyes. "Emma, love," he whispered. "Are you all right?"

But Emma was unable to find her voice, because her mind was still caught on something she couldn't understand.

He came back for her.

He saved her.

Her whole life, the only person who ever saved her was her.

No one else bothered to.

But Killian broke into a castle full of guards that would have killed him in an instant, just to save her.

He risked his life.

For her.

The last person Emma trusted put her in prison.

Killian just rescued her from it.

"Emma…?"

He was still staring at her, even more concerned than before.

"You saved me," she whispered.

"Of course I did," he said, like it was the only reasonable answer.

Like there was no world in which he saw himself not saving her.

Ever since Neverland, hell, long before then, Emma had felt… something for him.

After Neverland, it turned into something even more, something that wasn't just interest, something that was feelings.

And ever since she drank that potion, they had only gotten stronger.

She has spent every waking minute shoving those feelings down, trying to bury them, erase them, because she could not—she could not—stand to trust someone again, for someone to break her like a damn promise.

She had planned to run away to New York, to leave it all—leave him—behind.

But tonight…

He had just risked his life to break into a place that would have killed him if it could have, just for her.

Tonight, he did something no one has ever done.

He saved her.

And Emma was beginning to realize he's done so in more ways than one.

He's handed Emma proof that he will be here for her and will never leave.

And it suddenly gave her an overwhelming need to stay.

Like a broken dam, everything that she felt for him, that she's tried to hold back, rose within her, warming her chest, like a tidal wave she couldn't wait to drown in.

Emma smiled, another tear falling, feeling like so much weight had been lifted from her. Like she suddenly couldn't stand to keep herself from him, to hide the fact that she liked him, she more than liked him, that she—

Emma's hand found his, intertwining with his fingers.

And suddenly, a glowing emitted from his pocket, where her fingers brushed it.

They both looked down, to see the wand.

Lit up with magic.

With a gasp, Emma pulled her hand away, and the glow faded.

Killian smiled.

He took out the wand. "Emma," he breathed.

Tentatively, Emma took it, and in an instant, it lit up again.

"My magic!" she breathed. "It's back," she whispered.

"Perhaps it just needed time," he said softly.

But Emma knew what it needed.

She smiled at him, and the warm feeling that was still in her chest.

The feeling that he and he alone elicited.

"Thank you, Killian," said Emma softly. She kissed his cheek, a little shyly, pink coloring the tip of her nose. Electricity like her own magic seemed to spark as she did.

His brows shot up at the sound of his own name, hearing the heaviness of her gratitude. He stared at her in utter shock.

"Let's go home," she whispered.

His brow quirked, something so hopeful in his eyes. "Home?" he echoed.

She smiled, more and more sure with every second. "Storybrooke." she clarified. "I'm not going anywhere."

She took his hand, and Emma had never seen him look as stunned as he did now.

"Aye," he said softly. "Home." He smiled, the word like music to his ears, like a relief of his own.

And she conjured the portal, the glow reflected in their eyes as they jumped through together.

For she was home long before they reached Storybrooke.

-.-.-.-.

tag list: @kmomof4 @justanother-unluckysoul @klynn-stormz @stahlop @ilovemesomekillianjones @hookmecaptain @tiganasummertree @jadehowlettthewolf @jonesfandomfanatic @anmylica @pirateprincessofpizza @stahlop @snowbellewells @eddisfargo @motherkatereloyshipper @csgiftexchange

[whole-buncha-snakess]

Live long enough surrounded by the sea, and you start thinking about what it might be like to drown. It's something about the isolation of it all, maybe. Stand by the prow and look off towards the horizon. No land, just sea stretching out in all directions, an endless infinity of blue.

The sea murmurs to you, low and constant. When the sky turns black and the wind howls like a wounded dog, she tries to tear you to pieces, vicious and raging. When you are dropping off to sleep, she rocks you gently and sighs sweet lullabies.

Never marry a sailor, old wives say to the young women whose eyes are drawn to the men, windswept and laughing, who visit the inns by the ocean. For they'll have no mistress but the sea.

In a way, they're correct. But they don't truly understand. How could they? The sea has raised you from bright-eyed cabin boy to weathered captain. She is mistress and mother, lover and butcher. Some day or another, she'll be your grave.

All this to say: when the ocean darkens, when the stormclouds gather, when the thunder rumbles low and foreboding, you are ready. You have a responsibility to your men and so you yell instructions, bail water, and when it is clear all is lost you load your supplies and your men into the rowboats. But the captain must go down with the ship.

The crack of the mast as it splits in two sounds like an ancient, towering redwood, long battered by winds, finally splintering apart. It sounds like your soul being rent asunder. You cling to its remains and take your final breath.

You keep your eyes open as you sink, though the salt stings your eyes and your last breath burns in your lungs. The cacophony of the storm is gone. It is very quiet. Next to you, the mainsail twists through the water, a ghost of white cloth.

It takes around five minutes for your lungs to give out. You inhale seawater, salt in your mouth, salt in your eyes, the sail still twisting, twisting. You inhale again, the seawater scorching your lungs. It is painful. All the times you imagined drowning, you did not imagine this pain. You scrabble your hands around, clutching at nothing.

Blackness.

And then she speaks.

Child. Her voice is the noise of the gulls, the crash of waves. You are dying.

You are. Your lungs are filled with water, and you can’t breathe. How long does it take to drown? Only seconds, you think, but you have already lived longer than that. But then, they say time stretches at the moment of death. Your entire life relived in an instant.

I killed you, says the sea.

I love you, says the sea.

I will hold you forever, says the sea.

The pain is gone. You inhale water, natural as breathing.You are not alive, she says, but then neither am I.

You are the captain of a sinking ship. As you feel that the sinking is your fault you decide to go down with the ship instead of evacuating. It is only when your ship hits the bottom of the ocean and you are still alive that you notice that something is off.

[red-the-dragon-writes]

Sevens-Spit Luck

Summary:

Adyr, freshly orphaned - as far as she's aware, anyway - plans to hitch a ride on a pirate ship to get the hell out of this stupid country and discovers abruptly that she might want to sail the high seas instead. Only, there's a few problems with that, like how she doesn't have any experience, and obviously the only way onto the ship she wants a place on is to stow away. She probably could've thought this one through better. Oh, well. If they don't kill her, there's always next time. Or something.

On Ao3 here.

Hope was a funny thing, Adyr thought, holding the knife between her teeth and clinging to the rope with every ounce of force she had in her entire body. This was a really, really Sevens-spit stupid idea and there was no way in any hell it was ever going to work, but she’d let her starry eye blind her until well past the point of no return. The acid sting on the side of her face throbbed in time to her heartbeat, still healing.

The furthest reaches of the horizon began to glow a ruddy violet-crimson. Surely when the sun was up she’d be discovered, if she hadn’t fallen. But until the light of day revealed her, she should have been able to keep herself up here without detection. If it weren’t for the rope…

The Midnight King was a gorgeous capturesail brigantine, with two towering jet-black masts and translucent sails and a narrow arrow-shaped body. It put Adyr, on the shore in the light of day hours ago, in mind of a wasp, though she couldn’t put her finger on why. She was here to see if she couldn’t land herself a ticket to one, just to cross the ocean, but suddenly she had found herself seized with a desire to find herself a place on that ship instead. To be part of that.

Besides, the capturesails were glorious. They didn’t live in the real world, where everyone else did - they were free from all laws but the high seas, beholden to no one but themselves, and they moved around so fast they couldn’t be caught. If everyone Adyr cared about had been sailing a capturesail, then -

Wasn’t worth finishing, was what that thought was. Dead was dead was wasn’t anymore a person and so wasn’t worth thinking about. But she’d set her eye on the Midnight King and set herself on its mast about twelve minutes later. She’d find out what she needed to know later when she found herself a spot, and if it didn’t work out and they threw her overboard she could probably sink the entire ship along with her before the great monsters living in the Lanjjikk could get around to drowning her and then maybe she’d lose but at least she’d take them all down with her, which -

- which wasn’t worth thinking about either. Because it was going to be fine. And it wasn’t going have time to be a problem anyway, because they were still docked, and this stupid, Adyr thought, feeling her fingers slipping as the fibers snapped beneath her, this stupid Sevens-spit rope was going to snap, and then she’d be caught and it would all be for -

“Hey,” someone said.

Startled, Adyr jumped into her Secondform - about twice as heavy and five times as long as she was in smallform, and she wasn’t even fully-grown - and the rope did snap, sending her plummeting straight to the deck. Not instinct’s greatest moment, but at least it also made her snap her wings out, and so the sixty-or-so foot drop wasn’t so bad. She tried her best not to hiss up at whoever’d just climbed up the mast to meet her as she picked herself up from the smooth-polished wooden deck.

“Hey!” they yelled again, fainter now that they weren't right below her. “Who are you?”

Adyr did hiss at that, not really sure how to respond. “I’m not leaving!” she yelled up instead of answering.

“Not what I asked,” whoever it was up there replied, starting to climb down the mast rather quickly, as far as Adyr was concerned. That wasn’t ideal, even if it was still a long, long way. “Who are you? Did Sandar send you over?”

Well, they didn’t sound angry, now that Adyr’s startled spines were starting to settle and she could think a little clearer. “No one sent me,” she called up. “I, um… I want to be part of your ship.”

“It’s not my ship,” the stranger said, climbing closer down the rope ladder like some sort of spider, or something. Adyr eyed the distance between herself and dry land; not far. But she wanted to be on this ship. The others didn’t cut a figure like this one. But if she had to make a break for it, now would probably be the time. Obliviously, the stranger went on, “If you want to sign on, you’re gonna have to talk to our captain.”

“The captain,” Adyr repeated, thrown for a loop. “Just like that?”

“We-elllll…” the stranger said, hopping to the deck. In the low light Adyr could just barely make out a low-cut white shirt, a long sword at her side. A dragon? No, her eyes were too dark, no light in them without the sun. But Adyr had never seen a human carry a sword before. Too alien for them here, or something. Adyr had an odd feeling about this. Almost positive. Which was weird, because she’d just gotten caught, so this was bad. Right?

“…well?” Adyr echoed.

“I’m Zahra,” the stranger said, instead of explaining. “What’s your name?”

Adyr shifted back to smallform, pulling her snapped-apart tunic back over her chest with one hand. “Uh. Adyr.”

“Ad-der,” Zahra echoed. “Ad- Ad-dir?”

“Adyr,” Adyr repeated, and then, because she was still curious, “don’t worry about it. I want a place on your ship. I have to talk to your captain, and that’s it? That’s all?”

“I wouldn’t know, really,” Zahra said. “Not my ship, remember? But I like the Captain, he’s a good guy. And he was talking about wanting someone who can, you know, do the fire thing.”

“I can do ice too,” Adyr said, because she could and she was proud of that. “Not as flashy, but I can still do it.”

“Huh,” Zahra said. “Well. You’re going to have to fix my spot, if you stay.”

Adyr blinked at her. “What?”

Zahra pointed up at the mast, shrugging. “My rope. You snapped it. I need that.”

No wonder someone had caught her, if she was in someone else’s spot. That was something to know, at least. “Sorry. I’ll fix it if I get to stay.”

“Guess I need you to stay, then,” Zahra said, offering a hand to Adyr. Adyr took it, and Zahra pulled her up until she was standing on her own two feet. “Here. Follow me, I’ll show you who to talk to.”

Adyr nodded, trailing along. Maybe the Sevens weren’t spitting on her at all this time.

[absolutesort]

FRANKIE & CALLIE — NIGHT TWENTY-SEVEN.

location :   fire pit.

time :   after callie and frankie have had their scrap about kissing other people, the islanders are called together and have to vote for which couple to save.

description :  islanders have to choose between rhys & bash and dejan & max. callie is frustrated that frankie wants to save her friend over choosing a genuine connection.  see also :  flogging a dead horse.

featuring :   callie  /   @graftisms​

𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐞𝐥𝐬.

the public votes never get easier, even if callie has been fortunate to not have to worry about herself yet. but watching rhys and bash up there, a reminder of when it had been dylan and liam and rhys again in jeopardy... swallowing thickly, she looks over at frankie once they've gotten their own little corner of the fire pit to talk. "what are you thinking?" she already knows what she's thinking, but frankie is a little more of a question mark.  

𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐚 𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨.

this is going to be a difficult conversation, so she prefaces it by taking callie's hand in hers, squeezing her fingers, her eyes darting around the other couples.  "i know you probably want to save rhys. he's your friend, and i get that, but..." frankie pauses, chewing on the inside of her cheek. "if i'm honest, i think we should save dejan and max. those guys came in the day before me, so they've been here like, less than a week. and i don't think they deserve to go home." shrugging, she pulls one knee up onto the bench beside her. "i know you think dejan's a douchebag. i get that. but like, rhys has had so much time to find someone, and if we send him and bash home at least they're going home together. i'd feel bad sending max home, he's not had that same opportunity to make a connection with someone." plus, he's one of her favourite people to have around.

𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐞𝐥𝐬.

one sentence out of frankie's mouth and callie can already feel herself deflate, getting ready for an argument that she's not ready to have. she expected it, but that doesn't make it fun. "dejan is a douchebag," she agrees with first, because at least frankie knows that. "and i know you're friends with max, so i know you want to save him too. i'm not even thinking about rhys as a friend when i say we should vote for them. the whole vote is about what couple deserves to be here, and rhys and bash together have so much potential. they're so new, you know? and the same argument could be said for bash. he's been with nana this whole time, so was clearly playing him. he deserves to have time in here as well. i hate to say it, but if max wanted to find a real connection, he shouldn't have coupled up with dejan. he doesn't deserve to be here, and you know it." and sinking dejan trumps saving max.

𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐚 𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨.

callie makes some good fucking points. it's annoying how right she is. but frankie's never been good at giving in when she's taken a stance. she'll go down clinging onto a sinking mast before she jumps ship, stubborn to a fault and a devil's advocate at the best of times.  "yeah, but..." frankie falters, feeling herself fighting a losing battle. "if they're in a couple, surely that lessens the blow of them going home? because they came in looking for something, found it, and left. i know max seems like an idiot who wants to stick his dick in everything like some phallic whack-a-mole but like, i spoke to him at the party, and asked about why he's here, like what his intentions are, and i do think he's here for the right reasons. even if dejan's like, the worst possible person he could have coupled up with, it's probably because jenny and naomi had already been picked." and me, she adds mentally — because there's no doubt in frankie's mind that max would have picked her if she hadn't chosen callie first 🤡.   if dejan and max go home, that's all of the bombshells from her week except her, and okay they didn't come in together like rhys and liam and kenny had, but there's still a bond between them, the newness of it all, having to graft in a place where all the couples seemed virtually impenetrable.  "it's been really hard for them, and they've still made an effort with everybody." even if that effort is being a snakey piece of shit.  "i don't feel like rhys or bash have made that much effort with me or the other bombshells at all, and i know it shouldn't be based on that, but i feel like we should go with who brings more to the villa, and i think max and dejan bring a lot more fun and life, you know?" 

𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐞𝐥𝐬.

she knows she had made some good points; callie was hoping her points would be enough to end this. but if there's one thing she likes about frankie, it's what she's stubborn. unfortunately, this isn't helping either of them right now, because unfortunately callie can be stubborn too. "we can't just vote for dejan and max because of max," she says, giving frankie a look. "do you really think dejan deserves to be in the villa? he hasn't even tried making a single connection here. all he's done is terrorize romi, fight half the villa, and play up the apathetic route. he hasn't made an effort with anybody. max i can't speak for—i can probably count on one hand the amount of times i've talked to him." for lack of trying, honestly. he's definitely not her cup of tea. "bash was only a bombshell, like, two days before the guys? that's hardly more time." lips press together, like she's tasted something sour. "just because they're not your friends doesn't mean they don't bring fun and life to the villa. they have more friends than dejan and max do. this place is supposed to be about relationships, is it not?" though she's starting to feel a little stupid for thinking that, as if her and frankie aren't on the same page about the purpose of being here. callie has to look away, anxiously watching the other people deciding in their couples, needing a moment out of this tension to herself.

𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐚 𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨.

she hasn't really seen callie like this. it's a kind of stubbornness that maybe she hasn't exhibited in the villa since that time luke had kissed dylan and lied about it ; the first time frankie — watching it — had felt drawn to her. "he tried with romi, didn't he?" frankie starts, grasping at straws, because it's pretty clear to everyone — even if they weren't at the hideaway— that the only thing dejan had tried to do was ruin romi's current relationship. callie's quick to shut it down, although terrorise isn't exactly the word frankie would use. "okay. terrorise is a bit dramatic," frankie reasons, holding up her hands, in a chill out motion, which is pretty rich coming from her.  "i just feel like everyone will be saving bash and rhys anyway? it would suck to be up there and have no one vote to save you. like that's so fucking savage." but like callie says, it's not about what's savage, or about who's fun it's about the best relationship. if they were strategic about this, they'd go for max and dejan, since neither of them are likely to win unless they couple up with a joan-of-arc pariah of the people type, but frankie isn't sure bringing up strategy is such a good idea right now, when callie's clearly wilding out. "okay, okay... let's just... take a breath," frankie starts, when she notices callie begin to retreat, both in her body language and in the way her eyes seem to flash with something like hurt. it's the kind of expression that curdles frankie's stomach and makes her feel like she did something wrong, when all she wanted to do was save her friend. tenderly, as if approaching a wild beast, frankie inches closer, sliding her hand up the ridges of callie's spine, head tucking into the crook between her shoulder and neck, a space that seems reserved just for her.  "i know this is a tough choice. but i don't want it to change us." frankie starts, fingers rubbing circles on callie's back. "shall we go through the points for each? but calmly."

𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐞𝐥𝐬.

"he didn't try with romi," callie rolls her eyes. "even if you'd call what he did trying, she was clearly uninterested and he didn't care. he's the reason why her and marcus broke up. maybe you don't talk to her, but romi's been miserable with him there, and i don't blame them. i wouldn't vote for him just for that alone. and i'm not giving them a pity vote." maybe it's not fair of her to do this. when the last vote had happened, kenny had been nice enough to split their votes between dylan and rhys, so she didn't have to choose between two people she cared about. frankie has people she cares about, too--but when voting for max comes with voting for someone who has made it abundantly clear he doesn't care about the point of being here, it's hard to justify giving that spot to him over rhys or bash. she won't even get into feeling party guilty for them being at the bottom, when callie had partly been the one to push them together. "i'm fine," she shrugs away frankie's hand, feeling a wave of irritation that's not really meant for her. she's just irritated that this is in their hands, and frankie is acting like there's a real contest between the two. there's nothing like being told to stay calm that makes callie not want to. "do you genuinely think dejan and max are more deserving of trying to meet someone than rhys and bash are?" her eyes flick up to meet frankie's, wanting her to say it right to her face. "because that's what this vote means."

𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐚 𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨.

there's a weird energy between them that she hasn't felt with callie before. is this what it's going to be like on the outside? it feels like the most real moment they've had as a couple so far, but frankie isn't sure she likes it. it's not like the fun fights she has with naomi, or max, or even jenny — there's none of the adrenaline and thrill that comes when you don't really care about whether your words stick, and all the fear of fucking things up by being too dogmatic and impulsive. she doesn't want to cave to callie's wishes simply to keep the peace—that's never been her temperament—but is fighting for max really worth it when callie shrugs her off like that? it feels like a stab in the gut. she can't recall a time when callie's ever turned down her affection. "okay," frankie responds, dejected, as she shuffles a few inches away, pulls her legs up against her chest to hug them in the absence of callie. the knife in her gut twists.  "we're having our first fight..." she notes, and while it's meant to sound spirited, her voice can't quite summon the humour she'd intended it to have. it just sounds sad. frankie buries her face in her knees. "i want to save max, and as much as everyone thinks dejan's a dick, i think he's misunderstood." and if that makes her an idiot, frankie refuses to see it, because one time he'd told her she had good form in boxing, and he'd humoured her idle flirting. "deep down, i think he can be better. but it's not worth..." she gestures at the space between them. "whatever this is." she wants to get up and walk right out of this situation. she wants to turn back the clock and tell max to pick someone else, someone better, who won't put him in the same situation.  "you've been here longer than me. and i'm pretty sure you carried us through that vote anyway." it's no secret that callie's the favourite. frankie isn't even anyone's favourite inside the villa. "just vote for rhys and bash. they'll probably win it, anyway."

𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐞𝐥𝐬.

callie doesn't realize the extent of the disagreement until she can see frankie's face fall, uncharacteristic anxiousness behind those dark eyes she's grown too accustomed to. she had just wanted a little bit of space, but now the space feels too big, biting her bottom lip as she watches the other girl curl into herself. callie knows she can get passionate about her beliefs, and sometimes that makes it hard to see what's really in front of her. the fact that frankie doesn't see how bash and rhys are the obvious choice is annoying, but she doesn't take it personally. her stomach churns when frankie says they're fighting, an unnecessary observation that only makes her feel worse. "hey, pause." now it's her turn to close the space between them, wrapping her arms around frankie's knees and meeting her halfway, looking her right in the eye. "this vote thing is not going to change anything between you and i, c'mon. i'm sorry if i'm being a hardass about it," she sighs, fingers running through her hair, "i just really, really don't think dejan deserves to be here. i don't even hate him, or dislike him. but he's done nothing here so far except cause drama, and that's not going to change with keeping him. but him being a twat doesn't make a difference between you and i. you can't lose me that easily, you know," she offers her a small smile, a little shy. is she just making a big deal out of nothing? legs stretching out, she sits up and taps on frankie's knees, then hits the top of her legs, an offer to stretch them out on her. "this probably isn't gonna be the first time we disagree on these, though. what if we both get a veto? you and i can use ours now, but then the next time we disagree, the other person gets to choose, no matter what. that's kind of fair."

𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐚 𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨.

when callie's hands wrap around her knees, frankie doesn't immediately meet her gaze. it stays on her thighs, noting the small hairs that have sprouted since she last shaved, and bringing another wave of sadness, because the last time frankie had shaved it was max who'd held the razor to her skin. she won't be asking him to shave her legs any time soon, unless she gets sent home the next day. maybe it's childish that she doesn't immediately meet callie's eyes, so she forces her gaze up, and as soon as she does there's a buckling in her, because how the fuck can she even think about saying no to callie's big round deer-in-the-headlight eyes?  "okay, good" frankie stresses, leaning into callie's touch, head flush against the hand as it combs through her hair. "because i like us how we are." and if saving that means letting max ( and dejan ) go, then frankie has to put her own relationship first. you can't lose me that easily. "god, you're such a simp," frankie laughs, and for some reason there are tears pricking her eyes, which she quickly smacks away with the back of her hand. okay, that's fucking weird. "gonna start calling you marge simpson if you carry on." which probably makes her homer, although admittedly her marge impression's better.  "homie!" she caws, gravelly and cartoonish. she takes the offer callie's provided her with, extending her legs to drape them over the other's lap, but still the space between them feels too wide, and soon she's draping her arms around callie's neck, too.  "i feel like me voting for max and dejan isn't going to make a difference. dylan and naomi will choose rhys. josh will save rhys, and jenny will let him. there's no way in hell romi and marcus are saving dejan, which only leaves seb and maddox." admittedly, they're wild cards, but even two votes in max and dejan's favour won't be enough to save them. "this sucks ass. and i want max to stay so bad, but— it feels like a wasted vote..." 

𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐞𝐥𝐬.

"i like how we are too." and just like that, the tension between them feels diffused, nearly as quickly as it came. callie's not naive to know that this was a very small issue compared to other things that might go their way, but especially after their conversation this morning about where they both stand, this feels like proof to back up her claim that they're more than just insane chemistry. "shut up," she laughs, and callie would feel more self-conscious about the very true statement if frankie didn't look a little emotional, which she chooses to ignore, for the sake of the other. the simpsons remark goes straight over her head, choosing instead to wrap her arms around frankie's waist and tug her closer, smiling back at her. callie knows a lot of people look at this place strategically, and that much is obvious when frankie rattles off who is probably voting for who. but it's never something she's cared putting too much thought into, and just listening to the hypotheticals of it all has her head reeling. "i'm sorry," she sighs, because she genuinely does feel bad for max. he's never been her cup of tea based on a lousy first impression, but she does think that he deserves a shot still. if only the producers listened to her about bringing in more women. she presses her lips against frankie's temple lightly.  "are you okay with voting rhys and bash, then?"

𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐚 𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨.

it's been no more then ten-minutes, and frankie's getting emotional whiplash from the amount of highs and lows that have come with making them vote. she feels like her insides have been on a fucking rollercoaster. the only thing grounding her is callie's hands around her waist. there's fear that underpins the anxiety, because it could have been them up there, having their fate decided by a group of people who barely know her. if the public vote's made her realise anything, it's that the time you have here is short, and the connections you form are everything. she wants to press her mouth to callie's and feel her hands against her neck, she wants to sink into her completely, until they're nothing but a pile of miscellaneous bones, but now is neither the time or place to start making out when there's people at risk ( not that it's ever stopped them before ). "i don't want to. but like... you've been her longer than me. and i trust your judgement." she doesn't bring up the fact that callie has a tonne of friends in here, whereas frankie can count the people who like her on one hand. with max gone, the remaining upright fingers will start looking lonely. is she fucking herself over by becoming wholly reliant on a relationship over friends? rhys doesn't seem to like her very much, but it isn't worth fighting about it again. "i think it's probably best if you say it..." frankie responds, eyes fluttering closed as callie presses a kiss against her forehead. "i don't really trust myself to. don't think i could look at max and not save him." even now, when her eyes scan across to the place where he and dejan stand, she feels a huge wave of regret swell up inside her. if she thinks about it too much, she might fucking cry. baby. "shit. this just got... really fucking real." for her, perhaps. but callie's probably had to do this a hundred times. was kenny more agreeable when making decisions? it isn't worth thinking about. "what are you gonna say?" 

𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐞𝐥𝐬.

she feels a little guilty that they're voting for something frankie doesn't agree with... but she doesn't feel bad enough to fight her on it, because at the end of the day, callie doesn't want to vote for dejan. "thank you." it feels like a lame thing to thank her for, but it means a lot to hear that frankie trusts her judgment. she won't forget about the way she relented in the argument so easily, so callie can hopefully return the favor in the next one to come. there's affection in her gaze when she looks back at the blonde, holding back from kissing across her face, wanting to show her just how appreciative she actually feels. it'll come tonight, probably (no pun intended?). "okay," she nods slightly, with another flutter of guilt that she shoves down. "yeah, it always fucking sucks," callie lets out a short laugh, with little actual humor. last time it was her brother in max's position, and callie had felt terrible being grateful that it was one of her closest friends who had to walk instead. more often than not, dumpings have left her in a pretty shitty mood for the rest of the night. she feels bad that frankie's now going to have the same experience. "i'll probably just say that bash and rhys have a connection worth exploring. i can add in how we think max deserves a chance too, and we hate not being able to vote for him." even after all this, callie still can find reasons to blame dejan. max leaving tonight will be because of dejan, make no mistake. "anything else you want me to add?"

𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐚 𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨.

absent-mindedly, frankie traces her finger over the dip of callie's cupid's bow while she speaks, only catching every other word. it feels like she's beneath a bell jar, the sound of everything muffled around her. max and dejan are going home. there's literally no other way this can play out, not now that she's given in so quickly, and one look at jenny confirms that she's been equally spineless, or perhaps just eager to please. on the outside, frankie would never give in so fast — but callie isn't on the outside. every part of her wants to get up and walk away from this situation, have a time-out in the bathroom or work off some steam in the gym, but she knows the moment she moves she'll be swarmed by show runners and cameras hungry for a scene. she doesn't want attention, just some peace away from the limelight would be nice. "um... not really? you could always tell max we'll have a threesome with him on the outside? give him some hope as a parting gift. i think his dick shrivelled up from the lack of attention." shooting her eyes up to find callie's, she tries to determine her expression, and adds a cursory "kidding," smirk attempting to prize her cheeks upwards despite the sombreness of the situation. cautiously, her fingers thread themselves through callie's, pulling her hand back to rest on her thigh. "where the fuck's olivia rodrigo when you need her? it's literally brutal out here."

[attzi-gearburst]

DWC Day 1 Instinct/Neglect (Iranji)

Word Count: 1500 Summary: Iranji has a nightmare about a bad night from his past. Warnings: drowning, injury, death

@daily-writing-challenge

The storm came out of nowhere in the middle of the night. Iranji woke to the sound of wood cracking and groaning above him just as the ship toppled sideways, knocking him and his crewmates out of their hammocks and onto the floor of the hold. Abovedeck, someone was screaming, but between the roar of the wind and the waves lashing at the ship, it just sounded like noise.

She righted herself, which sent everyone who’d come out of their hammocks rolling. Iranji moved with this out of instinct, using the momentum of the sway to get himself closer to the stairs. He scrambled up them on all fours, and came abovedeck into absolute chaos.

The mast was gone, split and fallen across the middle of the ship, with the sails in the waves and taking on water. It had taken out half of the deck railings as it fell, leaving anyone on board at the mercy of the waves crashing over top of her. The weight of the broken mast had her listing, and that was making it harder for her to bounce back when a wave hit.

“Gotta get the mast off!” he shouted, looking around for anyone else on the crew. Three people scrambled from where they’d been clinging to things that were actually tied down. While they moved, Iranji turned and repeated his shout to the sailors still in the sleeping quarters. That done, he bolted to help the others already trying to shove the broken remains of the mast into the water so that the rest of the ship would be free.

They had to time their shoves carefully; if they pushed when a wave hit from their backs, the ship nearly capsized. Thankfully, his voice carried, and the others listened to his orders to heave and stop. Eventually, the sails themselves did the rest of the work, dragging the last bit of shattered mast into the water like it was being devoured. The ship immediately bobbed back upright, and a few of the people who had helped began to cheer. But Iranji felt anything but relief as he turned his full attention to the storm roiling above them. It was like nothing he had ever seen.

For one brief moment, it felt like the storm was looking back. He froze, rocking on the unsteady ship, staring up into the clouds, frantically trying to think of a way to survive this. Elaina and the girls needed him to come back.

That was his last thought before the lightning struck, coming directly down from the point he’d been staring into. It hit him slightly off-center, taking out his left eye as it used his body as a conduit to reach the ship. The sheer amount of water on the deck caused the bolt to travel further, and several of his crewmates fell to the remains of the deck just as he did.

The pain wracking his body was so strong that he wasn’t even fully aware that he could no longer see on his left side. He needed to breathe, but his lungs wouldn’t obey. He needed to get up, to save the ship, to check on the others, but his legs were useless. And even all of that didn’t seem as crucial as it should, because the sheer amount of pain he was in was preventing his body from working properly. It suffused him. It smothered him.

Elaina. Rhiannon. Reese. Again, he tried to inhale.

Elaina. Rhiannon. Reese. Another failed breath. His remaining vision began to go dim.

Loa save me. I’m not ready to die. My girls need me.

The ship rocked wildly, and an even bigger wave crashed over its side, catching his limp, disobedient body and pushing it right after the mast. The chill shock of the water on seared and whole skin alike was enough to make him finally, finally gasp for air, and he got a single breath in before he began to sink.

Loa save me. I’m not ready to die. My girls need me. He repeated it in his head like a chant as he willed his arms and legs to move. He was a strong swimmer, even in a storm, but this time the storm had struck first. He closed his good eye as he was pulled under by a wave and focused on holding his breath.

Beneath the water, he could hear the groaning of the ship as the waves beat at her mercilessly, but behind it all was the crystalline sound of water droplets hitting the waves, giving the entire debacle a sense of ethereal unreality. It was cold, it was quiet, and the rain was singing to him as he sank deeper into the only place that had ever felt like home.

Eventually, he had to exhale. As he did, he felt something large rise up beneath him, bumping into his back and stopping his descent. The skin of the creature felt like sandpaper, and the shock of it on his bare back made him suck in a breath. Salt water flooded his lungs immediately, and some of the pain he’d felt when the lightning hit returned. He tried to thrash, to do anything to resurface–

Iranji sits bolt upright, nearly falling out of his hammock, and begins gasping for breath.

Loa save me. I’m not ready to die. My girls need me.

Those old thoughts run through his head again, as he spins to drop his legs to the floor, turning his hammock into a chair. He rubs at his odd eye and sighs, trying to dredge up the rest of the memories. Once he did, they would leave him alone for a while.

As he lay dying on the back of the creature that had stopped him from sinking further, he’d heard a voice in his head: Rise. Regenerate. You will not die today. As he blacked out, the thing beneath him had begun to surface. But you will never again love anything as much as you love the sea. There is so much here for you to learn for me.

He’d come to in a gentle rain, draped over a floating crate, lungs achy and wheezy, left side of his body on fire. A large shark was circling around him, but Iranji had been too drained to worry about it for the moment. He’d lain there, focusing on his pain, willing himself to regenerate, because once his wounds were healed he’d be able to figure out how to stay alive.

The eye had taken the longest, and something hadn’t seemed quite right about his vision from that side when it was restored. In the moment, however, he’d been distracted by his left arm and leg: as the wounds healed, what reappeared was not skin, but scales, much like a shark’s. They were darker than his skin, but not as rough to the touch as shark skin would be. He’d shoved all that aside to be dealt with later and turned his attention to his surroundings, looking for his ship, for his crew.

Pieces of both had been in the water surrounding him. Sharks were feeding on the remains of his friends, but any time they’d tried to approach Iranji, the shark circling him had chased them away.

His shark companion had remained with him until a ship that had survived the storm found the wreckage and began to seek survivors. He’d been weak, and incredibly dehydrated, but he’d survived. The strange new crew that had saved him had kept looking at him sidelong, which had caused him to keep to himself when he wasn’t helping with repairs. Eventually, he’d caught sight of himself in a mirror while washing up, and realized why they were all so wary; his vision wasn’t the only thing strange about his newly-regenerated eye.

Iranji stopped rubbing at his odd eye and looked down at his shoulder, where the scales remained. One finger ran along the skin around his eye, where the scales also remained. He knew now that the loa Gral had saved him from drowning that night.

Twelve years after the Cataclysm, and he still didn’t know if Elaina and their daughters had survived, but the last thing Gral had said to him had turned out to be right: since that day, he was only content when he was on the water. And so, he simply hadn’t looked further once he’d learned that their home port was now completely underwater. Heartless? Possibly. But he was well aware that he’d come out of the water different; if she and the girls were still alive, it might be a good thing that they hadn’t been reunited.

He slipped out of his hammock and wove through the sleeping forms of the others until he reached the deck, taking deep, fresh breaths of salt air and enjoying the calm of the night.

There was nothing like this anywhere on land. He loved being first mate of the Glittering Prize, and despite the nightmares he was content.

[slicesofapple]

Sometimes, when Atsumu has a tantrum, Suna leaves. He just gets up and walks out, takes a rambling stroll through their neighborhood. Long enough for Atsumu to calm down.

Their apartment is too small for two people, at least when one of them is an Atsumu who has been transformed into a festering, writhing ball of anger and frustration.

But sometimes, when Atsumu is really upset, when the anger is covering something that hurts, Suna will wrap his arms around Atsumu, tight.

Then Atsumu will bury his face in Suna’s hair and cling onto him like Suna is the last mast in a sinking ship, the one that breaks off and is still bobbing in the waves when the rest of the ship disappears into the great green depths.

[allegreta]

avast!

It had been smooth sailing the first week or so, despite the excitement of the angelswordfish. Soon after, Claude’s mysterious egg had hatched into some sort of strange creature, a blue-and-white critter the size of a cat she can only liken to garden slugs. It’s quite hungry, and that fish she caught proves useful in sating its appetite. Sadly, it seems to have imprinted on Claude and no one else, but Leanne is determined to become friendly with it.

Oh, how the winds of fortune can change.

One afternoon, a dark cloud descends upon them--not literally, but a flock of seagulls swarms the ship, and they are aggressive and rude! Leanne tries shooing them, but it does not work. Disgruntled, she transforms; surely the presence of a larger bird will dissuade them, yes?

No.

Somehow, it emboldens them. It almost feels as if they are cackling as they surround her, pecking at her and squawking terrible shrill things at her.

“Get off me!” Leanne cries out, flailing her wings in panic. Herons were not made for combat, but she’s got no choice in the moment. “I’ve got nothing you’d want!”

--

a group of giant rays swim past in the current... the direction they came from must be safe! you guys take that route and it is, for a time, smooth sailing.

Not all creatures of the sea are malevolent, at least. Leanne sings thanks to the gentle giants as they glide across their path, wondering what it would feel like to touch one. They seem so smooth.

“Are they friendly?” Leanne inquires, watching them fondly. “I wonder if, in less urgent times, I could say hello.”

Cameron smiles and nods. "Friendly and so cute! Good lil fellas. Fun to surf on. Ah- hang on!"

Leanne barely has time to wonder what surfing on a ray would be like before she’s jostled violently to the side. The ship’s hit something, and she pulls herself to her feet, clinging to the railing.

“Is anything broken?" she calls out to Cameron, bracing for another potential impact. There’s no leak near her, as far as she can see, but she’s only one person, and the sea is ever so fickle. "Do we need to do anything?"

"No time to wonder!" Cameron shouts back as they start to carefully jog away. "You just take care not to get knocked overboard, cutie! I'll go check~! ... Kai-Marik will yell if he needs ya!"

Leanne feels her cheeks flare; she flaps her wings to steady herself, and tries to make herself seem sturdy and strong. Kai-Marik and Cameron are together, right? And yet...hm. That’s something to think about when she’s not worried about the ship sinking.

as if the wreck's mast werent enough, a wayward rock surface tags the ship in the side, rocking everyone to the side. yeowtch!!

That’ll have to be later, it seems! These are rough waters, and it’s all Leanne can do to maintain her footing.

@boundlesshart @vaida

[wendy130]

That’s not a fish (Part 1)

//Title to story may be subject to change.

// I will be using he/him pronouns for Eret thorough the entirety of this writing. I am aware that he uses all pronouns; this is to make the writing less confusing with other characters.

// Based on an rp I did with a friend. This isn’t an au. There may be a part two for this, but do not ask for one.

// Warnings: description of drowning (no one dies), the ocean

----

"It was a dark and stormy night."

That's how they always started in the stories.

Eret grunted as he marched through people's scurrying forms, all of them busy with throwing the pools of water that threatened to pull the ship down off of the deck.

Damn those stories to hell. He ducked under a few sailors, his eyes darting around, trying to find someone. Why was it always so hard to find the one person you needed?

Normally, he'd be one of the many bailing the water out, but he had other matters to attend to first. From behind his glasses, his eyes locked onto a figure afar.

"Puffy!" he shouted, striding closer to the woman. She turned to face him, wiping water off of her face as she stared at him with a tense form, "what's-"

"Just a normal storm," she interrupted him, shouting loudly. The crashing waves made it hard to speak normally, "be careful around the edges, Eret."

He slowly nodded, a grimace on his face as he ran a hand through his soaking wet hair. He opened his mouth to say something more, but she threw a bucket at him. He caught it with fumbling hands.

"I- Puffy," he tried yelling back to the captain but shouted in surprise as he felt a bigger than usual wave crash into the side of the ship. Both Puffy and him stumbled back, leaning against the railing and tightly holding onto the tiny, wooden beams for support.

The two exchanged alarmed looks before tilting their heads towards the dark waters.

"That seemed... like it was caused by something else," Eret yelled, forgetting his past worries.

Puffy searched the seas with a hidden intent as if she was looking for something. For someone. She frowned deeply and turned towards him,

"Stay away from the edges," she warily shouted, making no comment on his worries.

"What did you see?" Eret inquired, trying to search the waters like the captain had too. She only pulled him back from the shoulder, giving him a stern look.

That look meant that she was done talking.

Eret frowned, sending one last glance back at the churning waters before heading off to help the crew. He bit back a yelp as he felt another wave crash onto the side of the ship.

As he steadied his swaying figure, he glanced around at the abled men, women, and people who barely seemed affected by the harsh conditions.

He supposed it was only normal for them to be so resilient. It was fairly charming to see them all work together.

He also supposed that he'd have to get used to this, both to his dismay and excitement.

Eret pushed himself to help with whatever he could, passing buckets full of sloshing water back and forth between people and helping out with the masts. After only an hour, he was bone-tired, wheezing in exhaustion.

He really did need to step up his game.

Compared to his homeland, it seemed as if the sea's world needed more force than any battle he had fought before.

Eret yelped as a force from behind him pushed him closer to the edge of the boat. He barely had any time to fall back before a heavy bucket was thrown into his hands. He hesitated for a moment before hurling the water out of the bucket and tossing it to the nearest person who beckoned for the container.

He continued on like this for a while, falling into a steady rhythmic pattern before his arms also grew weak with weariness. He recoiled back as his felt his hands slip on the bucket. He fumbled around, barely catching the pail.

Many hands grasped onto him, pulling him back and pulling the bucket out of his hands. He stumbled back to the middle of the ship, one of the crew members giving him a stiff nod.

He staggered back, his reaction timing slow compared to everyone else on the ship. He was barely able to dodge the people barreling around the deck, and he found himself back at the edge of the ship again.

He was about to push himself back to the middle of the deck so he'd be able to take cover under the deck, but a spark of curiosity burned at the back of his mind. With a single shake of his head, he turned to face the waters, looking for any sign of what Puffy may have been looking for.

He gasped as he felt a lurching sensation alongside a scraping pain on his arms. He was hit with a heavy sense of vertigo as he tumbled downwards- why was he tumbling downwards?

His question was quickly answered as he felt a frigid splash of liquid hit him with full force.

The air in his lungs was knocked out as water consumed his weakened state. His throat and nose burned as water forced its way up into them, and he violently coughed, shoving his way back to the surface.

He was only able to take a short breath before a harsh wave crashed into him, sending him back under the water. He forced his way back up, taking another breath before he was pushed under again. His lungs burned from the lack of oxygen, and his eyes stung from the salty water surrounding it.

Eret wildly glanced around the water, seeing only black inkiness underneath him. He breached the surface of the water again, helplessly looking for the ship he rode on. He cried out as he saw it already far from him,

"No!" he dazedly gasped, "wai- come back," he fruitlessly called out, flailing his arms around, trying to paddle his way to the ship.

It was pointless. He was in dead waters now.

Eret desperately tried anyways, though, clinging onto the diminishing hope that they'd turn around to find him.

A pit of despair grew in his stomach as he saw the ship grow smaller.

Surely they’d notice, right?

He wouldn’t be stuck and left for dead... right?

He almost choked on another wave that tugged him under the water before he surfaced, coughing.

He had gotten him screwed just because he was curious enough to look for something that didn't exist, hadn’t he?

His mouth dried as he felt the waters around him shift and move unnaturally.

...It didn’t exist..... right?

He shakily glanced down at the murky waters, half expecting to see a giant tentacle shoot out and drag him into the depths of the waters like in the stories.

He saw nothing for a moment, unable to discern anything from the foamy, angry waters, but.... as he stared for longer, he saw a giant dark figure circling him.

The outline vaguely reminded him of a shark tail with extra fins, but it had a different front- as if there was another part attached to the shark.

He shook his head, clearing his mind of any possible imaginary projections of his fears before looking back.

Nothing...

He almost sighed in relief, but, instead, a screech ripped from his throat as another wave crashed down on him. He was forced back under the water, given barely any time to gasp for new air. Thrashing wildly, he burst back up, practically coughing his lungs up as he gasped for air.

The waves had picked up in strength again, making him repeat a tiring process of trying to stay above the water. It was a loosing battle, though. Every time he came up for air, he was pushed under.

His muscles burned from use and lack of air, but he pushed on, clinging onto the threads of life.

 As he was pushed back down again, he kept his eyes open, looking around him for anything. His eyes burned from the salty waters, but he kept them open anyways.

He barely suppressed a gasp of shock as he saw a large shadow from afar.

This wasn’t a projection of his mind, was it?

He surged back to the surface with a newfound fear.

If he didn't die of hypothermia or drowning, he was most definitely going to be the victim of this creature.

That of, he was certain.

He desperately tried keeping an eye on the massive shadow, but it easily blended in with the stormy water, and he lost focus on it.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he trembled, weakly paddling around to keep his head above the liquid around him. 

A sinking feeling grew in his gut as he searched around himself for the creature.

He couldn’t find them from around him, so that meant....

Look down, look down, LOOK DOWN-

His eyes shot to underneath him, only to meet the gaze of two glowing green ones.

By Primes, he was so dead, wasn't he?

[angelicyoongie]

the crimson shell

— pairing: jungkook x f!reader — genre: mermaid au, yandere au — w.c: 1.9k — warnings: mild stalking, near drowning, mentions of eating humans — notes: just wanted to contribute something to mermay! this is also my first time attempting to do anything in the realms of yandere (and mermaids!), so pls be nice lol. in this universe everyone is referred to as a mermaid, no matter what gender they are. this will most likely be a two or three part series with jk growing more and more obsessed as he gets y/n into his scaly clutches :)

Part I / II / III / IIII

— summary: you had always found comfort in being at the beach, often spending hours just watching the waves lap against the shore. but unbeknowst to you – something had been watching you back.

You inhale deeply, enjoying the salty smell that so uniquely belongs to the ocean. The last rays of sun are slowly disappearing behind the horizon, painting the skies and the waves in hues of deep pink and purple. You’re going to miss this view.

You sigh, running your fingers through the coarse sand as you let the gentle breeze caress your face. You’ve been looking forward to this for years, but now that your departure is so imminent, it feels more scary than liberating. The time has come to finally leave your home behind, and you feel a pang of regret as you realize you might not see your friends or family for a very long time to come.

Years of saving up your measly paychecks have finally paid off, and you’re setting sail for an island you’ve been hearing constant murmurs about for the last few months. Originally, you were only going to travel to the next kingdom over, hoping to find more suitable work there to help your parents stay afloat. But the talk of the mystery island abundant with riches piped your interest more than you would like to admit – and you’ve never been one to shy away from adventure.

However, you weren’t stupid enough to just blindly trust the rumours milling around your little town. In fact, you wholeheartedly believed it to be a scam until a familiar face suddenly turned up in the town square only a few weeks ago.

You hadn’t seen Jimin ever since he set sail for the unknown six months ago; and so everyone, including yourself, had presumed that your talkative neighbour had met an ill fate, and was floating at the bottom of the sea. You realized you couldn’t have been more wrong when Jimin returned with riches you never expected you would ever lay eyes on, his whole body adorned with various diamonds and gold chains.

It was Jimin who had urged you to seek out the same island, saying he barely even took a handful of all the treasures that were there. He had warned you about a price that would need to be paid, but you weren’t all that concerned. If a sea witch wanted your first born, then fine, you weren’t too keen on children anyway.

You busy yourself with drawing patterns in the sand, lost in your own thoughts as you try to remember your little mental checklist of all the things you wanted to see before you left tomorrow morning. You’re pretty sure this beach was the last one. It’s not much; just a short stretch of sand at the edge of the hill leading up to your family’s cottage, but it has always felt like home.

You come here every evening without fail, using the time to relax and breathe. The last month has felt a little different though, even if you don’t like to admit it. You’ve always stayed on the beach quite late, there’s nothing you know of that can rival the starry sky that appears once the sun had set. But lately, you’ve found yourself retreating back up the hill before the night could fully greet you.

It feels like you’re being watched.

It’s silly of course, considering the only thing in front of you is the quiet ocean. You would have noticed if there was something there, but still, you can’t seem to shake the feeling that something is out there – observing you.

It always happens so suddenly; one second you’ll be merely enjoying the view, and in the next, a sense of dread would knock into you so hard it left you breathless. It would make your neck feel tight, as if someone was gripping your skin, and the hair on your arms would rise in alarm.

Even just the memory is enough to give you goosebumps, and you let out an annoyed huff at how easily you seem to be able to scare yourself. You dust the sand off your hands before you rub them up and down your arms, trying to calm down the twinge of anxiety that’s slowly spreading through your body.

You don’t want to remember your last night here as something uncomfortable, so you let your gaze sweep over the beach one last time.

Something catches your eye just as you’re about to turn. Something red is ebbing and flowing along with the waves, and you hesitantly step forward until you can see it clearer. It’s nothing more than a pretty shell, but you’ve never seen that tone of red before. You snatch it up from the water before the tide can pull it out, slowly turning it back and forth to study it. The last sliver of light seems to catch on to it just right, giving the red a gorgeous golden shimmer.

You let out a low gasp of wonder, trailing your fingers along the scalloped pattern. It’s stunning, and you can’t help but think that it’s the beach’s way of saying its last goodbye. Maybe it was giving you a parting gift.

You clutch the shell gently in your hand, a soft ‘thank you’ slipping past your lips as you watch the ocean fondly. You notice a few sudden ripples in the quiet sea a little further out from the beach, but it has started to grow so dark that it’s impossible to make out anything below the soft waves. Chalking it up to just being fish, you shrug it off, finally turning on your heel to walk back up the hill to your family’s little cottage.

--

You’ve officially been on the sea for a week, and you’ve already grown tired. The small group of fellow villagers that you left with have already started getting on your nerves, and you’re not sure how you’re going to make it all the way to the island and back without going insane. Jimin said you would need to travel north for about two weeks, so you try to find solace in the fact that you’re halfway there already.

The journey so far has been pretty smooth, but the dark clouds on the horizon seem to be rolling towards you at an alarming speed. You dig into the pocket of your trousers, finding comfort in running your fingers along the shell you found on your beach. You can only hope it serves as a token of good luck, because the storm heading straight for you really doesn’t look good at all.  

It feels like you only blink before the rain is pelting down against the ship, harsh waves tossing the wooden boat back and forth to its whims. You’re clinging on the side with all of your might, but the floor has turned wet and slippery, and it makes it even harder to stay on board with all the vicious tossing and turning.

You feel the electricity before it hits, the static making your hair stand up straight right before a bolt of lightning slams into the mast. You can barely hear the loud creak of wood over the screams from the other travellers, you gaze transfixed on the large wooden pole as it starts tipping.

You’re frozen in place; all of your muscles locking up in terror as you realize the mast is coming straight at you. You’ll be crushed in you don’t move, but you can’t. You close your eyes instinctively as the looming shadow rushes towards you, harshly sucking in one last breath of air. You feel the ship lurch, and your fingers slip from the bars you were clinging to as you’re tossed overboard.

A blanket of silence wraps around you the moment you hit the water, all of the screaming and creaking of wood suddenly ceasing as the cold liquid mercilessly drags you downwards. You can see the shadow of the ship growing smaller and smaller, your last breath escaping you as it bubbles up towards the surface.

You flail your hands desperately, your body too low on air to properly function. Swim, swim, swim! Your mind is screaming, but your heart has already accepted the rush of water filling your lungs, and the heavy feeling in your bones.

Your vision grows hazy, the blues and greys of the ocean blurring together. A streak of red suddenly breezes by your line of sight, but your tired brain only managing to provide you with the fleeting thought of fish? before the exhaustion truly sets in. You can hear a low series of muddled clicking noises all around you, but it only seems to make you even more drowsy.

Sleep, a deep voice whispers in the back of your mind. And slowly but surely, all of the mixed colours fade into nothingness.

--

It wasn’t that hard for the mermaid to steer your ship in the wrong direction. The ship was in his waters, under his control, and the storm that suddenly picked up in the northeast presented itself like the perfect opportunity.

He had been trailing after your ship ever since it left the dock, making sure he could strike at the right moment. He couldn’t believe the weird creature he had been watching for months was finally coming willingly to him, but it was only right considering you had accepted his courting gift.

And now, as you were sinking to the bottom of the sea, you were finally his. The mermaid circled you excitedly at a distance as your limbs flailed around underwater. He tried to tell you to calm down – that the fight against his ocean was futile – but you just wouldn’t stop trying.

The mermaid bristled in annoyance, his crimson tail cutting through the sea harshly as he watched the stupid creature fight a losing battle. He needed to take it home now, before his brothers could realize it was here.

Finally, your body stopped moving. The mermaid quickly closed in, strong arms wrapping around your torso as he stared into your unfocused eyes. While he didn’t exactly know what you were, and why you had one limb too many, he had at least gathered enough information to understand that you needed to breathe in that pesky air in order to survive.

He pushed up, letting the currents easily carry him up towards the surface. Of course, he made sure to emerge far from the sinking ship. While the gurgling screams usually were music to his ears – he couldn’t keep you too close to the food. His brothers would be here in no time to feast, and he couldn’t let his new pet be swallowed up before he even had a chance to play with it.

The creature sucked in a shuddering breath as oxygen finally flowed through its veins again. It didn’t take long before all his precious water was being expelled from the creature’s lungs, the mermaid watching in displeasure as it was replaced with that wretched air instead. It just seemed so .. inconvenient.

You didn’t wake however, the near drowning having swept away all of your energy. The mermaid threw one last look towards the remains of the ship, thin lips curling into a pout as the gurgling was replaced by bloody shrieks. He was hungry too, but it seemed like it would have to wait until his pet was out of harm’s way.

Well, at least until it was out of his brothers’ way. The mermaid didn’t like making promises he wasn’t certain he could keep.

[sirthisisa-wendys]

The Sacrifice: Part 1 (Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader)

synopsis: every year, an unwed maiden is sacrificed to the Dragon God, and this year, you've been picked.

wc: 1.5k

tw: none (y'all know how I love to do backstory before I get into anything heavy)

A/N: thank you to @sunfloweroranges for this AMAZING idea that just rocked my world. I've been thinking about this for days now, and I've finally begun to write it. Thank you, love bug. This story wouldn't be written without you. Seriously.

masterlist

Inhale.

Exhale.

The reminder to breathe is the only thing you can muster as you are being misted with ylang-ylang and sandalwood, the scents akin to that of a virgin on her wedding day. It’s only when the elders rub ashes on the backs of your hands that you are reminded of your true purpose at the temple.

“Yew trees signify death and resurrection,” your mother used to tell you when you watched this ceremony from your perch on your father’s shoulders. It seemed so long ago when you were innocent; the virtue like the mast of a sinking ship you now desperately cling to. But now, your nails are being removed from this sinking ship and are painted over with crushed berries, staining the nail beds reddish-purple.

“Turn around,” a woman croaks, and you turn to face yourself in the mirror offered by another old woman. You see remnants of who you used to be: the long hair kept from the years spent living as an orphan, the full lips decorated with red lipstick instead of bruises, and the slight upward tilt of your chin. You were not always this poor and downtrodden; it seems that the only thing the creditors and bill-makers couldn’t strip from you was the way you could see right through people.

Even yourself.

“Follow me,” another woman mutters, and you depart from the eyes of the waiting citizens of Lampai, if only for a brief moment. The elderly female - who shuffles down a corridor and into a private, empty room - seems sweet enough, but perhaps that was because she knew your fate and wanted to take pity on you in your last moments here on this earth. When she turns around to you, she reveals a large pendant necklace that she has to stand on her tiptoes to drape over your neck. It’s made of turquoise and gold - something you would have killed for before today - and she tucks it into your dress, hiding it from sight. “Turquoise stones for your protection, and gold to bring the dragon pleasure.” In all of your years watching this terrible raffle, you’d never seen a necklace so divine, so beautiful.

“Thank you,” you murmur. But also, you’d never seen a criminal such as yourself standing on the dais before mounting the horse that would take you up the mountain, never to return again. This was an unusual year, but you would take all of the help you could get.

You ponder your odds of survival as the woman leads you back to the dais, where you stand before your peers, hoping someone would speak up and plead for mercy on your behalf. You know if your mother and father were still alive, you wouldn’t be in this spot at all. They had bought you decades worth of protection from being picked for such a medieval practice, but once they died and the General Commissioner found out that you were homeless, broke, and a criminal… Well, here you stood as punishment for stealing food from a market, your first and only crime.

“Her maidenhood has been confirmed, and she is ready to ascend the mountain,” the elder announces with hands raised to the sky. The people below you cheer with excitement at the half-truth, prepared to commence their yearly commitment to the Dragon God.

One maiden sent up the mountain per year as a sacrifice.

One maiden meant one unmarried, untouched woman. Despite your short criminal stint, you fit that bill quite well. And what was easier than the General Commissioner sending you up the mountain to be eaten by a dragon? Putting you in jail? No, he’d have to feed you there. That was just too much humanity to spare.

As you mount the horse that will take you to your destination, you look over into General Commissioner Gakuganji’s eyes and raise your brows, daring him to speak to you. But he doesn’t and waves his hand so the temple women would get on with the ceremony. It’s obvious he wants to go home and eat his fill of food before the evening is over.

The horse is led up the path lined by magnolia trees by one of the male temple attendants, his eyes glued to the road ahead and not daring to look up at you: the sacrifice. You want to hop off of the horse and make a run for the surrounding brush, but you know that the mountain is treacherous without a means to get up or down. You’d be stuck forever, wandering around with no food or water until you finally collapsed and died somewhere.

Well, that’s if you’re not eaten by the Dragon God first.

At the end of the magnolia path, the male attendant stops, eyeing you over his shoulder.

“I can go no further,” he states, and you take the reins in your hands instead, not sparing him another glance. “Ride straight up the path.” With a grunt, you urge the horse onward by digging your heels into its flanks and note that the path ahead seems more desolate than the one behind you. There are no trees, no signs of life, nothing but rocks and dust.

And that’s when the fear finally sets in.

The background to your ascent is the sound of cheers from the other people below you - the safe people who wouldn’t have to endure the shredding of limbs by dragon’s teeth. If an outsider were watching the spectacle, they might assume that you were ascending the mountain to commiserate with the gods, then return a hero.

But - again - there is no return down the mountain in sight. Not for you.

_____________________________________________________________

Silence.

The echoing of the cheers died off an hour - maybe two? - ago. All you can hear is the soft clomps of the horse’s hooves in the dirt and your own breathing. There was nothing on this mountain in the mid-fall. Not even a sign of leaves or something that would indicate any form of existence had been around before the mountain was stripped of its features and made into the vessel for sacrifices to be delivered unto the Dragon God.

You’re starting to believe this god isn’t real around the third hour of the trip. The peak - a sharp apex - is nearing ever so slightly, looming above like a sharp dagger waiting to fall. The evening is just now coming to a close, but you feel every single moment drag out forever as the horse passes more desolation and untouched land. But when a long shadow ghosts over the dimming sunlight, you jerk up in the saddle and hold the reins tightly.

“Just a hallucination,” you mutter, looking about the sky for some sign of the long shadow’s source. When you look down at the horse, another long shadow darts across the sky, and a gust of wind blows harshly in your face. With a jerk, the horse shakes its head, but another gust of wind from behind you sends the horse into a panicked state, and he takes off at a gallop without warning. Your screams must certainly be heard down the mountain, but you’re holding onto the beast for dear life and nothing else matters anymore except the concept of survival.

At some point, you lose your grip on the reins and you’re tossed backward, landing in the dirt with a pained moan. Your back and neck are lit up in agony, but as you rise up from the ground, you notice the horse is gone.

Your horse is gone.

“No!” As panic sets in, you try to jump to your feet to see if you could possibly catch up to it, but as you amble up the path, you realize you’re completely screwed. Without the horse, you had no food, no water… nothing.

But when a long shadow paints itself across the ground in front of you, you do only what you know how to do.

Run.

Going back down the mountain seemed foolish, but you had no other option to escape whatever that shadow foretold of. If you could just get to the magnolia trees you could--

A strong wind knocks you flat onto your back and right underneath the shadow, and you cry out, seeing two pairs of golden talons attached to a beige underbelly descend upon you and snatch you up in their sharp grip. You’re taken up into the sky, and for a moment, you dare to look down at the receding ground. But your nerves throw you back into overdrive and you attempt to pry the talons from your arms but to no avail. Tears stream from your closed eyes as you contemplate your fate.

From here, the dragon’s nest. Then… death. This was the end. Images of your family flash before your eyes and you silently pray that whichever gods still exist would grant you the mercy to join your mother and father.

You open your eyes as the taloned creature sets you on your back in a field of grass, then lifts off into the sky once more. After you struggle to find your feet again - they’d gone numb during the short flight to this knoll - you look upward to see if you can locate anything familiar, any sign of another dragon, or something that could tell you where you are. But the flood of nerves and adrenaline comes crashing down and you careen backward, all five senses shutting off as soon as you hit the grass again.

_____________________________________________________________

TAGLIST: @jotazinha @leanne-tamashi @brownskinnedgirll

[insomniamamma]

"Ferris Wheels Are For Old People" Ezra x f!reader w/Cee

A/N: for the Writer Wednesday prompt. @autumnleaves1991-blog  I do shift work so I’m a little late to this party. Here’s hoping it’s still Wednesday somewhere.  Reader, Ezra and Cee go to the state fair.

Warnings:vague mentions of past trauma. Contemporary AU. AU in which Cee is Ezra's niece. Loads of fluff

          "And what, pray tell, is that monstrosity?"           "Funnel cake," you say around a piping hot mouthful. Ezra narrows his eyes at you.           "It's red." he says, "Cee, have ever heard of such a thing?" Cee mumbles something through a large mouthful of her own rapidly disappearing funnel cake. "Heh. I thought not."           "It's red velvet funnel cake and it's delicious." You tear off a piece and offer it, "You want some? What? You're some sort of funnel cake purist?"            "Purist isn't the word--" Before he can say more you pop the sweet hunk of fried dough in his mouth.            "Mmm. Okay," he says, "I admit this is better than I expected. However," he grins,  corners of his eyes crinkling, "I cannot fully cement my opinion of red velvet funnel cake without sampling another piece."  

           You break off another chunk and boop him on the nose with it before delivering it to his waiting mouth, leaving a bright splat of powdered sugar.

          "God, you guys are gross," says Cee, her own face smeared with sugar, "You're like teenagers."

          "You fall into that category yourself, Little Bird,"           "Yeah, but you guys are like high school kids," says Cee, "The ones that sneak behind the bleachers to suck face and smoke during the football games." Ezra flusters and you giggle. He's still new to the whole parent thing and it shows sometimes.           "C'mon guys!" says Cee, tucking the last bit of funnel cake into her mouth, "I wanna go see the cows!"

           Cee wants to explore every bit of the fair. The big tents of livestock in pens waiting to compete, cows and horses and sheep.           "The sheep actually say bah! I always thought that was just how people wrote it," Cee's smile is huge, "Like a watchucallit--ono--omot--"           "Onomatopoeia," says Ezra.           "Yeah! One of those! But they actually sound like little old men saying 'bah' like  bah humbug you know?" You smile. It's good to see her like this. To see them like this. You knew Ezra before the accident of course. He lived in the ramshackle cape cod across the street. You saw him all the time, puttering around his garden, sitting on his porch reading with a beer bottle sweating, forgotten beside him. He jumped your car when the battery crapped out. You brought him tomato plants after starting way more than you needed. You had keys to each other's houses just in case.  After the accident, you mowed his lawn when the weeds got too extravagant, picked up his mail. You'd heard about the accident long before Ezra came home missing an arm and with his teenage niece in his care. People talk in small towns. Drunk driver. Damndest thing. Wrong way on the highway. Could have happened to anyone. Damon had been killed instantly. That much you knew from the gossip. You didn't ask for more details. Over the past year you'd watched Cee creep out of  her shell and start living in the world again, but right after, she'd buried herself in her books and music and hardly spoke two words to anyone.           "I love that little girl with my whole heart," he'd told you once, the two of you sitting on his front porch drinking beers and watching bugs suicide into the zapper, "I just hope I'm doing right by her." You reached for him, laced your fingers with his like you'd done it a million times and squeezed.           "She'll be okay. So will you."

          "Where does she put it all?" You marvel as Cee tucks into an order of deep fried dill pickles slathered in ranch dressing. Cee has made it her business to eat her way from one end of the midway to the other. You tapped out after a funnel cake, deep fried corn-on-the cob on a stick and a pile of shoestring fries the size of your head, but somehow Cee keeps going. She's had corn dogs, chicken and waffles on a stick, deep fried jelly beans.           "It's that teenage growth spurt," says Ezra, "For her slight frame, her appetite is most impressive. You would not believe how much milk I go through in a week." You poke him in the ribs.            "I've helped you unload your groceries," you say, "I have some idea." He smiles at  you in the fading light.

           As the sun sinks, the atmosphere of the fair shifts. The ag exhibits start to shut down for the night, and the lights of the rides grow bright against the pink smeared sky. The sky at night in summer feels bigger than usual, wider somehow. Heat radiates up from the pavement instead of down from the sky and the wind picks up just a little, occasional breezes that feel like a lover's caress. You don't know at what point you and Ezra started holding hands, unsure of who found who first, your fingers intertwined feels like the most natural thing in the world as the two of you trail Cee around the midway.

          "I wanna go on that one!" says Cee, pointing to what looks like an electric pirate ship swinging back and forth by its mast. You can feel the red velvet funnel cake and all the other stupid stuff you ate doing barrel rolls in your stomach.           "I will throw up," you say.           "How about the Ferris wheel?," says Ezra, "It's the biggest one in the state." Cee rolls her eyes.           "Ferris wheels are for old people," she says. Ezra fumbles an accordion of folded tickets out of his pocket.            "Here," he says, "Take what you need to ride that vomit inducer. Those of us who cling to sanity will ride the Ferris wheel instead."            "Sweet!" says Cee, taking her share of the tickets.            "You meet us right back here," Ezra hollers at her retreating back.

           The safety bar clanks home and Ezra smiles at you. You grip the bar hard. You don't mean to, but Ezra sees. Ezra always sees.            "You okay?"            "Yeah. I'm okay." You say, "This goes pretty high." He wraps his arm around you as the wheel starts turning. The upper arc of the wheel is high enough that the screams from the other rides seem lesser, you can see the whole of the fairgrounds spread before you, the food trucks and games, the shimmering arcs of the roller coaster, little kids shrieking their way down the giant slide, even the slow trail of the sky-car beneath you. Your chest tightens some, but you feel Ezra's warmth beside you, the weight of his good arm across your shoulders.           The car lurches to a stop and swings, and you grab onto Ezra, and he laughs.           "Ezra--"           “It's supposed to do this, love," he says, "This point in the ride, they stop the cars so the riders can take in the view. The moon's up, see?" And you do see, the sharp crescent moon slicing over the dark treetops.           "Love?"           "I'm sorry," he stammers, and you can feel him winding up for some long-winded apology. You reach for him, cupping his stubbly cheek and drawing him to you. You press your lips to his and he returns this kiss, slow and soft and sweet as the wheel resumes its spin. He tastes like powdered sugar.

[secretwhumplair]

Understanding

1,202 words | Original work: No Warrior (sequel to Bread and Water, p. 2)

Content | Fear, language barrier, painful healing, general physical weakness after injury/recovery, mention of: broken bones, starvation, sleep deprivation

Notes | Give him a break (: Or maybe a breakdown, what’s the difference anyway

Your sweet comments give me life, the taglist on this thing has grown so fast, thank you all so much! <3

Bonus | An music! Not for this episode specifically, just. *gestures vaguely*

Taglist | @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @whump-me-all-night-long @alliecat5594 @whumpadump1939 @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @whumpzone @angelstars @kixngiggles @whumpsy-daisies @maddamredders-yaoi @briars7​ @yet-another-heathen​

​Yves spent the next few days curled up in his spot right at the bow.

Most of the time, the same man was there with him. Quite frequently, one or two of the others came by to chat. It terrified Yves, but they only ever threw him curious glances, occasionally words he didn’t understand. No one touched him.

That terrified him even more.

He just couldn’t understand.

The man fed him regularly, offering him bread, fish, dried fruit even. By night, he let him sleep under a thick wool blanket. Yves hadn’t realized just how much the hunger and lack of sleep had eaten away at him until he was slowly starting to recover, his head and stomach aching less and less, his thoughts slowly getting clearer.

He still couldn’t understand, though, and the tension was becoming unbearable. He knew this was too good to last, and every passing hour felt like it was piling onto a debt he would have to pay in the most gruesome ways imaginable.

Every day, the man examined his injuries, and it was a terrifying procedure every time.

Today was no different. The man had carefully gone over his broken arm, the whipmarks and bruises on his back, and now Yves knew he had to sit up. The first two or three times, the man had had to lift him up by his shoulders, which was terrifying in itself, but Yves found the idea of pre-empting it, of potentially making a mistake, even worse. By now he dared to, and the man didn’t seem to mind.

Still, it was awful, offering up his battered chest and vulnerable belly like that. Every time, he felt that this was the time his luck would run out, a punch or kick would land where it hurt the most, would crack his ribs up even more or dive into his stomach. Somehow, opening himself up like this was even worse than being forced, bound, dragged into position. He’d had to do it before, of course, knowing disobedience would be worse, but it made him feel even more helpless.

Today, again, no attack came, only the man’s hands dabbing healing salve onto his injuries. It took all of Yves’ self-control not to flinch from fear and pain. The cold air drew up goosebumps on his exposed skin.

Finally, they were done. The man helped him pull his shirt back on. Yves wished he would just draw back, leave him to his own devices, even though he didn’t have to strain his still aching shoulders and back as much with his help.

He retreated back under his blanket, cowering down again to protect himself, although he knew it was irrational; the man - anyone on this ship - could manhandle him into whatever position they wanted. He thought the air was getting colder as they travelled; soon he would be freezing even with the blanket.

“x̴̷̸̢̢̛͞͝x̶̢̧̀͡͏̶͟x̶̸̷̶̢̛͘͠.”

Yves looked up to see the man staring intently down on him. His heart picked up. Was this it?

“x̷̷̸̨̢͜͠͡x̵̧̕͡҉́́͘ ̸͡͡͏̷̧͏͢x̸̴̨̢̡̀̀͟x̴̶̷̛̀́͘͠x̸̴̧̨̛̀̕͟x͏̴͜҉̧̛̀͟ ̷̷̶̢̨̛̕̕x̛̕͟͟͟͞͠͝x̸̵̴̴̴͢͝͡ ̴̸̵̨͘͢͟͞R̡̡̛̀͟͢͠͝u̸̢̢̡͟͝͡͠ǹ̷̨̧͜͏̛̀a̷̕̕͘͢͠͞͝r̸͟͠͡҉̨̛͜.”

“I don’t understand,” Yves whispered weakly. He’d said it so many times in the past few days the words had lost all meaning. Every time the man spoke to him, he felt his heart sink, like he was failing a critical test, a failure which would lead to - it hadn’t so far, but he knew that wouldn’t last forever.

The man placed a hand on his own chest. “Ŗ̶̀͞u̢̡͡͠ǹ̕͠͠ą̕͞͝r̴̴͞͠.“

Yves just stared for a moment. Why would it ever matter for him to know what his tormentor’s name was? But he certainly didn’t want to argue. “Runar?” he repeated obediently, hoping with every fibre of his being he was getting it right.

Apparently he did, because the man nodded enthusiastically. Then he pointed at Yves. “x̵̸̸̷̢̕͜͢x̷̢̨́҉͜͏��x̡̡̛́́͘͘͜x̴̵̧̧͘͘͟͡x̸̸̨̢̧̀͟͢ ̧́͜͠͏̶͜͞x̴̧̛͞͠͠͡͠x̸̵̷̛̀͘͜͞x̷̶̨̡͏̴̸̀x͞͏̵̨̛̀́͝x̸̵̸̧̡̧͘͜?”

Put on the spot, for a dreadful moment, he thought he had forgotten his name. He shouldn’t have been surprised, he though feverishly, while digging for the answer that would satisfy the man - it had been months, years, a lifetime since he had last heard it.

But it plopped back out of cover in a moment. He almost cried with relief, and placed a trembling hand on his chest. “Yves.”

“I̷̕͠f͘͟͢?”

“Yves,” he whispered, unwilling to correct the man properly, but maybe he wanted that and Yves didn’t know what to do, he was too busy with his throat closing up over hearing his name, however poorly pronounced. It had been so long.

“Y̵̧̕v͟͟͡e͘͜͡s̸̴͟, x̵̧̢̛̛̀͘҉x̴͡҉̀͏̶̸̛ ͞҉̵̶̸̛̀͝x̢̨̨́͘͢͠͠x̸̨̨̧͘͟͜͜x҉̶̴̀̕͢͜͠ ͠͞͏̨̨͠͏̧x͘͠͏̸̢̧̢̀x̡̧̀̀͢͠҉͜x̛҉҉̸̧̛͜͡x͏̷͏̵̢́́͟ ͢͏́͘͜͜͜͞x̶̵͏͠҉̢̛͜x҉̧̢̕͘͘͘͢ ̵̀͘͘̕͢͢͠x̸̢͞҉̶́͡͠x̴̡͝͡͝͏̀͜ ̧̨̨͏̴̸̨́x̸̵̶̶̨̡̛͜x̴̶̡̛́͢͠͞x̸͜͠͏͏̴̛͢x̕͞͡҉̸҉̵̷x̸̴̨̀͟͏̴̡x̴̧̧͏̀҉͜͡x̶̸̵̡̛͢͢͡ ̢͢͜͝҉̡́͝x̵̸̡̨̀͢͡͞ ̴͏̵̸̧͘҉̧x̶̛͢͟͜͢͠͝x͜͜͝͝͝҉͡͞x̸̶̧̛̛͢͞͞x̶̴̨͘̕͏͜͠x͏̷̧̨̀͟͡͡?”

Yves looked up at the man as helpless as ever. Possibly more, since the shock of being called by his name - his actual, real name - still rang through his soul.

The man - Runar - reached out, took him by his unbroken arm, and lifted him up. Like every touch of his, it was gentle, or as gentle as it could be while carrying half his weight.

Still, Yves didn’t doubt that this was it, now, and when he finally stood, his legs didn’t tremble from lack of use only.

His balance was feeble after cowering down for so long, and the movement of the ship threw it off. He was clinging on to the man before he could stop himself. His heart skipped a beat, and he quickly tried to right himself. “I’m s-sorry-”

“x̡̨͘͝҉̨͞͡x̷̷̡̧̀́͞͠x͏̴̢̢͟͟҉͟ ̷̨̡̀͏̧͜͡x͏̡̀҉̧͡҉̨x̷̵̢̨̨͘͢͝x̶̵̢̢̢̛̕͟x͏̵̸̢̛͜͝͠.” If the man wasn’t so big and threatening and probably leading him to the others for entertainment, finally, his voice might have sounded soothing. But he put an arm around Yves’ thin waist that very clearly told him any attempt at escape was moot.

“I - I know,” he whispered, blinking back tears, keeping his eyes cast down. Maybe it would help. Maybe they would go easy on him if he was meek enough.

The man walked him along the ship, slowly enough for his trembling, neglected legs to keep up. He didn’t dare look up to see the wolvish looks of the other warriors, no doubt waiting for their prey.

But all that happened was that the man - Runar, he must remember, there must be a reason he had been told this - turned him around when they reached the mast, and walked him back. They were joined, briefly, by the woman who had spoken to him earlier, but she only asked, “G̡̀͘͜ó̴̡̢o̷̕͢͝d̶̛̕͢?“, the mockery only there in the word, not her tone. He didn’t dare do anything other than nod.

Eventually, they reached their spot at the bow again. Runar guided him back down into sitting.

He was smiling.

That was when Yves couldn’t take any more. Days of horrible tension, and he had been so sure now it would finally break, and - “Just tell me what you want! Please... just tell me what you want.” He broke down sobbing, and realized only as he said it that the man couldn’t have done that, even if he were so inclined. “I’ll do anything...”

The man didn’t react, for a moment - not that Yves could bring himself to look at him. Then, the blanket was carefully draped around his shoulders, and he heard, in a soft voice, more words in this language keeping his captor’s thoughts shrouded from him.

[ink-dreams-ffxiv]

Mermaid

In Appreciation of MerMay...re-post of the story from Sea’s Challenge 2021

Sahxa had been sound asleep, being of Keeper birth, she found herself often working the overnight watch on the Confederate Ships. Everyone thought the Confederates only ran warships, but some of them were runners. Slipping between the Ruby Sea and Hingashi, smuggling contraband back and forth. A light crew. More about speed then fighting. That was what the Green Coral was, a smuggling ship. The sudden ear splitting sound of the explosion, the wild rocking of her hammock in the small cabin at the stern of the boat, next to the Galley Pantry had Sahxa awake in an instant.

     Holding fast to the swinging net of the hammock, trying to make sense of it all. Another explosion, the ship listed wildly as timber groaned in protest to the abuse, but it was the third explosion that sealed the fate of the fast ship. The gunshot sounds of heavy timbers snapping like twigs while the cabin again changed its orientation. Sahxa found herself dumped from the hammock, her grip torn from the netting she had been clinging to, making her spin as she fell. What had been the front wall and door of the small curved and angular space, was suddenly the floor. More groans and snapping of timber could be heard through the hull, the rush of air like a wind, followed by the sound of in rushing water made Sahxa move against the wall away from the small door, which moments later buckled inward with the force of the churning water trying to fill the small space. Sahxa grabbed a rafter that was part of the decking for the Captain’s cabin which had been above the small space she shared with other crew. Another such space was on the other side of the pantry, and the sounds of jars falling and crashing from the shelves could still be heard through the wall. She grabbed onto her duffel, which was floating atop the rising water in the cabin.

     The familiar greasy feel of the oiled canvas was a little reassuring as the world around her seemed to be coming apart.After a moment, Sahxa could tell the section of ship she was in was slowing. She knew without a doubt it had been sinking, and sinking fast. That she was standing on what should be the front of the cabin like it was the floor, made it clear the rudder was pointed to the sky. She couldn’t help the giggle that rose in her throat, part panic, part absurdity, as she watched the small oil lamp she had lit to read by, until she fell asleep, was swinging above her in a small circle. Still lit, unbroken, and not even sputtering. It brought a measure of calm to her. The jolt of the broken ship suddenly coming to a stop rocked her to her knees. More groaning wood, and a muffled high pitched squeal caught her attention. To her ears, it had sounded like it came from the pantry, but before she could ponder it some more, the cabin shifted again. What had been the ceiling was now a steeply angled floor as Sahxa realized the stern of the ship  had settled on the bottom, falling until it had settled upside down on the aft deck and wheelhouse. She pictured the ship in her mind, and figured the ship had broken apart between the main mast and the stern, probably along the bulkhead of the cargo hold. More sounds of things crashing, another squeal of panic and then sobbing came from the other side of the wall and the pantry. Ona, the Captain’s daughter, did much of the cooking for the crew. She was a little older than Sahxa, and being raised in the Confederacy, she wasn’t what you would call a wallflower. Sahxa took a last look around the small cabin, the rivulets of water seeping through the planks where the air was working its way out, and water worked its way in. The sobbing continued and Sahxa made a decision.      Using her foot to move the remnants of the door, she took a breath and plunged into the water. The pocket of air had stopped the rush of incoming water, which let her sink into the icy chill with ease. Her feet contacted the broken and splintered bulkhead of the cargo bay, as the Miqo’te got her bearings. She closed her eyes, concentrating, and when she opened them, the murky black water took on a translucent green color. One of her gifts was being able to see in the dark from the aether glow of her eyes. It’s how she could dive at night, and dive deeply, below where the light of the day could go. The soft current of the water swirling about turned her hair into a cloud around her, obscuring her vision for a moment. She didn’t have a tie at hand, so she did the only thing she could think of, swimming the short distance to the pantry, and the trapped woman within. Just like in Sahxa’s cabin, the small oil lamp was still lit.

     The drowned looking, bedraggled woman, covered in the detritus of a pantry that had been caught in a whirlwind was pressed against the hull, where the extra thick beams held the pivots for the rudder crossed. She had a foot on each of the shelves, with her back pressed hard to the wood. Seeping water dripped down over her, her wet hair hung down around her face, putting it in shadow from the swaying lamp. It was the cocked pistol in her hand that made Sahxa stop in the doorway, an arm's length from the rising surface of the water into the pantry space. Sahxa wondered what the woman saw. If she could see the glow of her eyes, in the dark water. She was afraid to blink, as she watched the terrified woman above her. The barrel twitched, there was a small spark, and nothing. Sahxa’s heart had stopped for a second as she had watched the woman pull the trigger, the flint had sparked, but the old pistol’s powder was too wet to ignite. A scream of rage and terror, then Ona threw the useless pistol towards Saxha as hard as she could. In turn, Sahxa threw a binding spell at the woman, pushed off hard, and launched herself upward in a spray of water. She grabbed the spell bound Ona, and let them both fall into the water below. She didn’t know why she did what she did, but she wrapped her strong arms around the hyur, carried her through the short hallway, looking into those terror filled eyes, the aetherlight of her own eyes glowing back at her.

     She guided them up the shattered stairwell, to what had been the deck, then out from under the wheelhouse. The sliding doors of the Captain’s cabin had been shattered from the Imperial attack on the ship, and Sahxa knew that was why the section had sunk so fast. It had turned into a wooden tunnel, letting the water pass right through it. Ona started to struggle in her arms, panic and pain filling her expression. Sahxa covered her mouth with her own, drew in a deep breath through her nose, concentrated hard, felt the aether shift, and she pushed the breath into the other woman’s mouth. Air seeped out of the woman’s nose and the sides of her mouth as Saxha kicked her legs, dragging Ona to the surface. She felt it when Ona breathed in, taking the life giving breath that Sahxa’s magic had made for her. Together they rose, until Sahxa felt the binding spell break, and Ona grabbed her hair and yanked her head to the side. Sahxa had allowed her grip on the woman to loosen, making it easier for them to rise, now though, Ona was kicking her bare feet, swinging her arms through the water, struggling to swim to the surface, which was just the barest hint of a glow above them. Sahxa swam easily around behind Ona, who was focused above her. She grabbed the woman by the soaked tunic with one hand, and dragged her upwards. A big bubble passed Sahxa, and she took a deep breath, again concentrating, feeling the magic change it in her chest. She looked into the terror filled eyes of the woman she was trying to rescue, pulled her up, and again pressed her lips to the woman’s. Ona breathed it in greedily, but didn’t resist as they swam to the surface.

     One of the longboats bobbed on the surface when they reached it. There was no sign of the Imperial ship that had blown their ship apart. She had gotten Ona into the longboat, thrown her duffel in as well, then began swimming over the surface until she had located all of the crew. From Captain Juk, Sahxa took the thick leather bracer off his arm. It was his pride and joy because Ona had made it for him, and from his waist, she took the pocket watch that held the picture of baby Ona and her Mother. Sahxa had never learned her name, but she felt Ona should have them now. She could see the sails of a ship on the horizon, as she floated in the water. She watched them for a bit, and saw they were indeed coming this way. Swimming back to the longboat, she found Ona had succumbed to the shock, and slept curled in the bottom. Sahxa climbed in herself, unrolled the canvas along the bottom, which was an amusing adventure with the woman curled up there, but she managed. The small mast went through the hole in the center seat, the triangle of sail was strung, and quickly filled with the wind. Settling back, Sahxa guided the small craft towards the approaching ship. She figured it was the merchant ship out of Hingashi that they had been sailing towards.

     Ona didn’t say much to Sahxa over the next day. They had been plucked from the sea, and put into the Captain’s Cabin. Ona didn’t really have to say much though, every time she looked at Sahxa, the ginger haired Miqo’te could see terror and fear in her expression. When they made the piers in Kugane, Ona and Sahxa followed Captain Carvallain down the plank from the Kraken’s Arms. He had spoken to them both together, and then separately about the events that had left them floating with an emergency sail in a longboat. Ona hadn’t said much more than “she dragged me from the water” when they had been questioned together. It was when she had been questioned alone that made Sahxa wonder, because when the woman came back to the cabin, she was being carried by a ship's mate, and smelled strongly of rum. At the bottom of the gangway, Ona kept walking, and Captain Carvallain de Gorgagne placed his hand on Sahxa’s shoulder, turning her to look him in the eye.

“She tells me you grew scales, and a tail, and that you took her from the pantry of the Green Coral, and swam with her to the surface. She also tells me you tried to bite her face off at least twice.”

She couldn’t help it, she started laughing so hard she was crying. “And tell me Captain, did she tell you why she was in the pantry?” He shook his head, and Sahxa pulled the brass opium pipe from the pocket of her duffel that had been in Ona’s pocket and engraved with Ona’s name on the stem. “It was probably an opium dream”