#not amused lil pirate

[fuckyeahizzyhands]

He is not amused ❤

[nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos]

ANOTHER CHAPTER ALREADY?!

I mean

I dunno what happened

It kinda wrote itself, I had no real hand in this

Please consult with my muses on the subject, I didn't know they were this cracked out tonight

Anyway awaaaay we gggoooooooooo

Flight Risk

Young!Mihawk x AFAB!Marine!Reader

Ch. 7 of something there's gonna be at least two more chapters

First Chapter link Previous Chapter link

Brief summary of The Story So Far: Your mission, as a Marine and Zoan type devil fruit user (gray parrot), is to gather intel on Dracule Mihawk, a pirate on the Grand Line who has become a thorn in the Marines' side over a relatively short period of time. He's discovered your secret, and your life hangs in the balance of his mercy.

Possible !!Trigger Warnings!! in this chapter!! Largely for imprisonment and psychological turmoil, though not necessarily psychological torture yet. I will say, for readers who are used to my writing characters with a relatively gentle depiction, I likely won't be taking quite as gentle of an approach here. There is some Yandere possessiveness prevalent here that I haven't written much before.

Tags: Enemies to lovers, eventually NSFW, idk maybe more later

Word Count: 3,095

Taglist: @i-am-vita @browneyedhufflepuff @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @littleleelee @nerium-lil @schanwow @dragon-bubs @animefreak818

I'm happy to add anyone that asks. Still flabbergasted that the list is this long.

I forgot to do a music thing last time bc I was so sleepy but I'mma do one this time but IT'S NOT FRATELLIS?? WHO IS EVEN RUNNING THIS BLOG?? SHOULD YOU CALL THE AUTHORITIES??

♫♬The Game- Disturbed♬♫

Tell me, exactly what am I supposed to do, now that I've allowed you to beat me?

Do you think that we could play another game? Maybe I could win this time

Dead, you were dead, he was going to kill you, and all he would have to do to get the job done would be to leave your right there in the shallows and let the tide slowly wash in until you were submerged, drained of strength and helpless.

To tighten his powerful grip around your neck until you ceased gasping for air.

To pull the golden cross from around his neck and plunge the small knife hidden within it into your torso, drag the sharp blade across your neck, watch the light leave your eyes.

So many ways he could kill you, in this very moment.

And yet his hand moved up your neck slowly, his grip unwavering as his fingers wrapped around your jaw instead. He tilted his head the slightest bit as he turned your head to one side, taking in your features with an air of both amusement and vague interest.

“And you were doing so well,” he said lightly, letting out a small sigh as he shook his head. You flinched as the rough pad of his thumb brushed across your cheek. “If you could have just refrained from making that silly little call to your boss last night—aw,” he added, an edge of mockery in his quiet words. “Did you think I was sound asleep the whole time? Poor thing.”

It hadn’t appeared as if he had done more than shift from his back to his side in the time you were gone last night—there had been absolutely no sign that he had gotten out of bed, not a single sound outside the cracked door of the study.

You should have known better.

“Though I must say, I do appreciate the vote of confidence.” Mihawk stood in a swift motion, tightening his grip around your jaw to pull you up with him, drawing a sharp gasp of alarm from you as your feet lifted a few inches from the ground. Still drenched in seawater, you didn’t even have the strength to lift your arms, held up only by his grasp, limp as a ragdoll. “‘No weaknesses.’ I’m almost flattered.”

You swallowed as he brought you closer, lifting his eyebrows a bit, the corner of his mouth curving the smallest bit into an almost imperceptible smirk.

“Provided it wasn’t a lie. You have quite the penchant for fooling others, it seems.” He quirked his brow a bit higher, his eyes darting up and down your limp form before settling back on yours. “Well? Was it a lie?”

“Mm—n-no,” you managed to choke out weakly, your eyes wincing and beginning to burn as his fingertips dug harder into your jaw and cheeks. “No…”

“No?” he repeated lightly. “Now, I’m sure you can do better than that, considering how polite you were with your employer last night. And I’m afraid it’s not them you’re answering to anymore. Try again.”

You swallowed dryly, your eyes flickering down toward his hand. “N—no, sir,” you whimpered.

“Ah, much better. Now, then….” The spark of amusement remained present in his yellow eyes as he rubbed his thumb against your cheek once again. “I suppose we should get you back inside and dried off, yes? I’d hate to see you get sick, pet.”

Your stomach felt as if it had dropped out of your body when he lifted you abruptly and flung you over his shoulder, your consciousness wavering between the complete sapping of your strength from the seawater still drenching your clothes and the state of shock you were left in. You drifted in and out during the trek back to the castle, your muscles limp and useless. You didn’t jolt back to a remotely aware state until he heaved you off and dropped you onto the cold stone floor of an unfamiliar part of the castle.

“I do just hate to have to cage you after all this time,” he said as you gazed around, your eyes squinted against the darkness. Judging from the lack of windows, you were below the ground level—and this was confirmed when he lit a torch along the wall opposite the one you were leaning against. “Nearly two months, it’s been, hasn’t it? Hmm. How the time flies.”

The dim orange light of the flame expanded as he lit another, and you realized he had deposited you in a small, square cell. The stone walls and floor were the same as the rest of the castle, if a great deal dustier, but the heavy iron bars and door made it clear that you were in the dungeon beneath the fortress.

“But, you’ve really left me no choice,” he went on with a soft, disappointed sigh. You could just make out his silhouette against the flickering firelight, the rattle of chains as he dug around in the drawer of a heavy desk just within your line of sight. “At least for now. I can’t have you escaping before we have a proper discussion about…” He lifted a heavy pair of iron shackles, examining them before giving a short nod. “About several things, really.”

He stepped slowly into the cell, his pace one of leisure, and stopped a few feet away from you, looking down at your pitiful form as you leaned back against the stone wall of the cell, struggling to steady your breathing, shivering in your damp clothes. He frowned as he looked you up and down, and gave a nod toward you.

“Off,” he said, his voice low but commanding enough that you jumped slightly, your brow furrowing as you tried to discern his meaning. “Off,” he repeated. “Can’t have you getting sick. We have a great deal to talk about.”

Your clothes. You glanced down at the wet fabric clinging to your skin, your stomach turning—he was telling you to get out of your clothes.

“Oh, modest, are we?” he said dryly, lifting an eyebrow. He took another step forward, crouching in front of you. You flinched back a bit when he reached a hand out and tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear. “Two months you’ve spent constantly at my side. I’m certain I’ve changed clothes in your presence more than a handful of times.”

“I...I didn’t...look,” you whimpered out, swallowing, closing your eyes as your face flared with heat.

“No, you didn’t,” he agreed. “I did find that curious, but you were quite the curious little bird.” You opened your eyes when you heard the chains of the shackles clink lightly, and watched as he stood, rolling his eyes as he turned around, his back to you. “Fine,” he said. “You may keep your undergarments. They’ll dry quickly enough.”

You almost wished that he had just killed you out by the shore. The embarrassment, the utter humiliation of pulling your tank top over your head and letting it fall to the floor with the towering form of the swordsman only a few feet away was enough to make you wish you could drop dead on the spot. You fumbled with your belt buckle, the buttons at the fly of your pants, before kicking them off along with your boots, wrapping your arms around your knees and clenching your eyes shut, trembling from more than just the cold, damp air of the dungeon now.

You heard a rustle of fabric in front of you, and before you could open your eyes you felt the material land in a heap at your feet. You cracked an eye open and frowned at the white heap.

Glanced up at him, your eyes widening as you realized he had removed his flowy, ruffled shirt, his back and shoulders bare as he crossed his arms, still facing the door of the cell.

“Put it on,” he commanded, stepping out of the cell. “And quickly. I pride myself on many things, my dear pet, but patience is not among them.”

You were already picking up the shirt and shrugging it around your shoulders before he finished, fumbling with the buttons with unsteady hands. The shirt was large enough on your much smaller form that it covered you from your shoulders to more than halfway down your thighs, the hem brushing your knees as you tugged it down, staring down at the floor, listening to the chair at the desk scrape across the stone. He set it down in front of you and tossed the shackles down at your feet, taking a seat and crossing an ankle over his knee.

“Those as well,” he said.

The moment your hand touched the shackles, you felt what little strength you had managed to regain begin to drift away from your body all over again. He chuckled when you drew your hand back as if you had been shocked.

“Seastone,” he said. “I salvaged them from the wreckage of a Marine vessel a handful of years ago. Thought they might prove useful one day. Go on.” He nodded down at them as you briefly met his eyes. “Around your ankles. So long as you remain compliant, I will allow you the continued use of your hands. You may need them at some point.”

You didn’t dare ask what that might mean.

You did, however, do as he told you. The seastone shackles felt as if they weighed fifty or more pounds, and it took some effort for you to drag them up even to the height of your ankles and clamp them shut.

“Very good,” he commended, leaning back in the chair and crossing his arms, his eyes never leaving you as you slumped back weakly against the walls. “Still such an obedient pet, aren’t you?” Every breath you drew in took a herculean effort, felt as if it might be the last you managed to draw before you passed out from sheer physical exhaustion. “Now, this is a first on my part. I’ve never been one to waste time taking prisoners. You ought to consider yourself privileged. Grateful for my continued hospitality despite your blatant betrayal.”

You swallowed, unable to do anything but give a weak nod.

He gave another small chuckle. “You’ve been trained to handle being the victim of a potential hostage situation,” he commented—it wasn’t a question. He cocked his head slightly to the side. “You’re quite small for a Marine. What rank are you, little bird?”

“Cadet,” you forced out—and, when he lifted an eyebrow, you quickly added, “s—sir.”

“Cadet,” he repeated, leaning back a bit further. “Hm.” He lifted a hand to his chin, his expression thoughtful as he brushed his thumb across his short goatee. “And they saw fit to send you after me.” You nodded again. “Your commanding officers either have a great amount of faith in your potential or they were trying to get rid of you. Which do you think it was?”

“T...they offered me the mission,” you said quietly. “I could have turned it down.”

“Faith in your potential, then,” he said lightly. “What a pity for them Of course, they weren’t wrong,” he went on, lowering his hand down to his knee, strumming his fingers there slowly. “You did play your role well. Well enough to fool that charming pet shop owner in Acacia, even. A veritable expert on the subject. You must have done your homework. Breezed through all your tests with flying colors. I did my own homework, as you know. Amid my reading, I recall mention that wounded or sick pets might show signs of decreased appetite. Interruption of sleep. In extreme cases, potentially isolating themselves from their owners. You see…” He tilted his head once more to meet your eyes, his gaze holding your own with an intensity that made it impossible for you to break the contact. “Had I not woken last night we might not even be having this conversation. Had I not noticed your absence and worried enough to go looking for you.”

Your worry over your mission. Your inability to eat or sleep regularly. Of course he had noticed. You were an idiot to think he wouldn’t have noticed.

“Had I not heard a voice coming from the study below my chambers,” he went on, lowering his voice, “you might have been able to complete your mission without a single hitch. I would have been forced to assume when you left that you had flown off somewhere to die.”

You flinched at that, closing your eyes and lowering your head.

“Oh, now what is this?” He chuckled. “Are we feeling guilty?”

“Yes.” You spoke through gritted teeth—there was no point in lying. You were already compromised, already at his mercy. “I…made the call last night because I…I couldn’t leave with nothing to show for it. Or without…” You swallowed once more, lowering your head to your knees. “I only had four days left. I was expected to slip away unnoticed and rendezvous with my commanding officers at a designated location before returning to Marineford to report on any potential weaknesses of yours I might have discovered.”

“And you claimed you found none,” he continued for you.

You nodded. “But...caring for another living creature is always a potential weakness,” you said quietly.

“Aaah.” You swallowed dryly, clenching your eyes shut tighter as you heard him push the chair back. The whisper of his boots on the stone floor as he took a step forward, the quiet rustle as he crouched down in front of you. “And you were unwilling to list your own presence as a potential weakness. Is that it?” You nodded again, and tensed as he caught your chin in his hand. “And here I’ve already admitted to having worried for the well-being of my pet. You certainly did do a stellar job, didn’t you, my little bird?”

His tone, his touch was almost gentle, despite that edge of persisting amusement at your predicament.

“Open your eyes.”

You obeyed his command once again—though your eyelids fluttered in your growing state of exhaustion brought on by the effects of the seastone shackles wrapped around your ankles, you did your best to maintain eye contact, only vaguely aware of his thumb brushing across your bottom lip as you gazed into his yellow irises.

“I may yet have use for you,” he murmured, his voice still light and amused. “I suppose you are a pretty little thing, if nothing else. And your abilities...well, you managed to fool me, now, didn’t you? Don’t,” he added, his tone sharpening as your eyes began to drift shut, and they shot back open. “There’s one more matter. You spoke of some offer while you were making your call last night. What is it?”

“W...warlord,” you forced out. “The World Government wants to offer pirates they consider too dangerous to combat status as ‘Warlords.’ No more than seven. Bounties expunged in exchange for an agreement to cease hostility against Marines and other World Government officials, and potentially being called upon to assist with other threats.”

“Warlords,” he repeated, letting out a quiet chuckle. “And you’ve been granted permission to extend me this offer?” You gave a small nod, blinking slowly, fighting to keep your eyes open. “Since you’ve reported to your commanding officers that I have no weaknesses they can exploit.” Another nod, and a quiet affirmative hum. “Mm-hmm,” he repeated, smirking. “I suppose it’s worth thinking over. At least until you’ve regained the ability to discuss the subject coherently.”

“Four days.” He lifted his eyebrows at your mumbling, waiting for you to continue. “Need to make contact in four days or they could send a Buster Call.”

“Ah.” His thumb brushed across your cheek, and you found yourself leaning unconsciously toward the warmth of his palm. “So they would sink this entire island into the depths of the ocean with you still on it, would they?” The hum you gave this time was neither affirmative nor dissenting—it was simply in acknowledgment that he had spoken at all, as your lessening coherency made it increasingly difficult to follow his words. “That does sound quite like the Marines. Heaven forbid they should have any loose ends to worry about.”

He expelled a slow sigh, one that might have been of resignation or annoyance, or perhaps some melding of both. Either way, the warmth of his breath across your face made your eyes drift shut, made you fall fully limp against the wall behind you.

You barely registered anything beyond that. Not his light shake at your shoulder in attempt to rouse you, his exasperated sigh as he caught you before you could fall sideways and hit your head against the stone floor.

Not his irritated grumble of, “Troublesome woman,” as he drew one of your hands up to cushion your head against the hard stone floor before he pulled himself to his feet to frown down at you.

To wonder why he hadn’t shoved his way through the door of his study the moment he heard your voice last night and throttled you in that moment.

To wonder why the hell he still had any concern at all for your continued safety and well-being.

You had spent two months, two months deceiving him, abusing his good will, masquerading as a loyal companion when you were nothing more than a dirty little spy.

His hands twitched into fists for a moment as he stared down at you, gritting his teeth. He could end your life right now. It would be only too easy. Crush your throat beneath the heel of his boot. Wrap a hand around your delicate neck until the labored rise and fall of your chest ceased entirely. You had already warned him of the Marines’ potential intent to destroy this island. He could dispose of you and leave on his own before that ever came to pass.

You shifted in your sleep on the cold stone floor, shivering slightly and laying a hand over the toe of one of his boots.

Mihawk swore under his breath, reaching behind him to drag the chair back into place and sit down heavily, crossing his arms over his chest as he surveyed your slight form below him on the floor covered only by his own shirt.

“What exactly am I supposed to do with you?” he grumbled under his breath, shaking his head, not completely aware himself of how his own gaze softened as he looked down at you. “Useless thing….”

His prisoner.

His pet.

His pretty little bird.

He would be damned if anyone but him were allowed to decide your fate.

First chapter and Previous chapter links again for your convenience

[alxtiny]

Ad Astra per Aspera

Episode 3

Pairing: Pirate!Ateez x Navigator!reader

Genre: pirate!au, fluff, angst, maybe smut

Word Count: 7.7k

Warnings: food, self deprecating thoughts

Notes: sort of filler chapter i guess? Character profiles are updated a lil btw :D

Playlist : SOS by Kang Daniel | Pirates by Xdinary Heroes | Animal Farm by BIBI

Series Masterlist | Episode 4 | Episode 2 | Bonus!

Of course, peace was never an option.

You were rudely jolted awake by the sound of a door slamming—again. Your body jerked so violently that you nearly fell off your bed, barely catching yourself on the edge. The thumping in your chest was a mix of lingering exhaustion and sheer irritation. You had almost landed yourself a third visit to the doctor, which was something you wished to avoid after what happened the before.

“What the hell do you want?" you snarled, sitting up with a scowl, blinking against the dim light of the room.

Leaning casually in the doorway was the same infuriating man from earlier. He wore his usual cocky smirk, the kind that made you want to throw something sharp or heavy at him. “Several things, sweetheart, but I’m afraid you won’t like some of the answers," he drawled, his eyes looking you up and down with amusement.

You threw him a scandalised look, crossing your arms over your chest. "Don’t call me that," you snapped, glaring daggers at him. Your attitude only seemed to amuse him more as he chuckled.

“Alright, alright," he raised his hands in mock surrender, still grinning like a stupid cat. "I’ll tell you the real reason I’m here. The captain needs you again—something about getting us out of here. He said we’re through the darkest parts of the cave, and the light’s slowly coming back.”

You groggily glanced at your wristwatch, confirming that about two hours had passed since you’d last checked. If the captain was right, you were nearly through the treacherous part of the cave and would soon be back in open waters. The thought gave you just the slightest bit of relief.

“Take me to him. We have much to discuss,” you said, standing up and brushing the sleep from your eyes.

“Mmm, much to discuss, huh?” he teased, a sly look on his face.

You rolled your eyes, exasperated. “It’s navigation stuff, don’t make it sound like that! And who even are you to question it? Don’t you have a job to do?”

A mischievous glint lit his eyes. “Ah, of course. You don’t know me yet.” He straightened up dramatically, as if preparing for an introduction on stage. “Jung Wooyoung, lookout extraordinaire and your new favourite person. Pleased to meet you." He extended a hand to you.

You scoffed, swatting his hand away. "Favorite? In your dreams, Wooyoung."

Unfazed, he continued, “Also, I do have a job, but right now there’s absolutely nothing to look out for in this cave, so I decided to come here and annoy you.”

You groaned, rolling your eyes yet again as he grinned wider. "Great," you muttered sarcastically, already regretting your decision to ask him anything. Now that you knew his name, though, you were definitely adding him to your nightly list of people to curse.

As you both walked toward the main deck, you noticed something off about Wooyoung. In the dim, flickering light of the corridor, his presence seemed… shadowy, almost as if he wasn’t fully there. You kept glancing at him out of the corner of your eye, but it was hard to tell if it was just the darkness playing tricks on you.

He stayed silent for once, which was even more disturbing than his usual cheeky remarks. Occasionally, he whistled quietly under his breath, but the quiet of the cave made the sound echo strangely around you.

Finally, you reached the deck, and there was Captain Hongjoong—still wearing his damn sunglasses even though darkness enveloped the entire cave. He stood completely still, even with the rocking of the ship, his hands clasped behind his back as he gazed out toward the dimly glowing exit of the cave.

You stepped up beside him, unsure whether to interrupt his thoughts. “Captain,” you finally mumbled.

He turned slightly, just enough to glance at you from behind his sunglasses. “You’ve rested,” he stated more than asked.

“Not really,” you replied, loosening up a little, “but I hear we’re almost through. I’ve come to discuss our next course of action.”

“Good,” Hongjoong replied, nodding. “We’re almost at the exit, and I want you to confirm our path as soon as we’re out of the cave. I’ll not have any more surprises. Not today.”

You glanced back at the looming cave walls, the jagged rocks jutting out as the ship slowly stirred forward. If you had estimated correctly, you’d make it through soon—hopefully without the ship scraping against the sharp edges.

“Once we’re in open waters again, we’ll head for the eastern port towns. But after we dock, there’s another matter I need you to assist with, something a little different than what your job entails” Hongjoong said plainly.

“What matter?” you asked warily.

He waved you off, “All in good time, navigator. For now, let’s focus on getting through.”

Before you could question him further, he turned away, dismissing you. Typical. The man was near impossible to read, always playing out his cards carefully.

With a sigh, you nodded and made your way toward the main deck, tired of all the cryptic talk. Beside you, Wooyoung offered a lazy grin, his earlier silence breaking. You had almost forgotten he was there, almost. "So, what do you think? Captain’s got another fun surprise lined up for us?"

"Probably something that might get us killed or worse," you muttered, shaking your head.

"Wouldn’t be a normal day without it," he chuckled.

You stared at him in shock. "Wait, what? This kind of stuff happens every day!?"

He tipped his head back. "Every. Single. Day. You’ve not seen the worst of it yet" he said, cackling as he sauntered away, leaving you standing there, mouth agape.

Before you could even process what he'd said, a gentle but rough hand came out of nowhere and closed your mouth for you. Startled, you whipped around, hair flying out and smacking the person behind you, who groaned in response.

"Ow, that hurt," the deep voice groaned. It was that tall beefy man with the baby face, the one with the figet dagger. You hadn’t really seen him in a while, and now, here he was, standing right behind you.

"Why are you here?" you asked, narrowing your eyes.

"Captain sent me to train you," he said matter-of-factly.

Your brow furrowed. "Train me for what?"

He just smirked and without another word, grabbed your hand and began dragging you toward the lower deck. You stumbled along behind him, still lethargic and bewildered. Light had just started filtering in as the ship neared the end of the cave, casting long shadows across the wooden floorboards.

When you finally came to a stop near one of the secluded corners of the main deck, it was in front of a large, leather-bound case, big enough to hold a person. You eyed it dubiously. "Are you trying to lock me up or something?"

He just gave you a big smile, showing off his teeth, offering no answer as he bent down and popped open the case. The lid creaked loudly, revealing an array of weapons—swords, daggers, even a few guns.

Your stomach dropped. "Wait—are you going to kill me? Captain Hongjoong said I was useful!" you shrieked, taking a step back.

The man laughed, his deep voice rumbling through the air. "Relax. I'm just teaching you some basic combat skills so you can defend yourself when we dock."

You blinked, incredulous. "What do you mean 'defend myself'? How dangerous can the people there be?"

He straightened up, closing the case for now, and turned to you with an amused smile. "Well, they’re not that dangerous, but captain's orders are captain's orders. Gotta do what I gotta do."

You groaned, realizing there was no way you were getting out of this. Maybe you should fake sickness. “And you’re the one teaching me? My head hasn’t even healed completely yet!” you argued, pouting angrily.

The man chuckled. He sure found this all amusing, “You’re safe for now, relax. My name is Mingi, by the way”

You rolled your eyes. “Alright, Mingi. Let’s get this over with.”

He clapped his hands together, eyes gleaming with enthusiasm. "That’s the spirit! Now, let’s start with something easy."

He pulled out a lightweight dagger and handed it to you, guiding your hand to grip it properly. As he began explaining how to hold and wield the weapon, you could feel the absolute absurdity of your situation. Just a day ago, you were quietly navigating maps and casually dodging storm flashes, and now you had to learn how to stab people—for your own protection, apparently.

Mingi’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts. "Focus, or you might hurt yourself, before someone else can even try to" he said, his tone reprimanding but gentle. You nodded, trying to focus on his instructions.

As he moved behind you, adjusting your stance and positioning your hands, you realised that despite his intimidating size, Mingi wasn’t nearly as unnerving as you first thought. He was patient, explaining everything in detail and offering tips as you clumsily practised a few basic moves.

“Not bad,” Mingi said after a while, stepping back to observe your progress. “For a beginner, you’ve got decent instincts.”

Your ego swelled ever so slightly, at his words, though you were far from being a pro. “Thanks, I guess,” you said, slightly out of breath.

“Alright then, we’ll wrap it up for now. Captain doesn’t need you killing anyone yet,” he said with a wink, sheathing his own blade with ease.

You handed the dagger back to him, relieved to be done. “Well, that was… fun?”

Mingi just laughed again, leading you back toward the centre of the main deck. “You’ll thank me later. Trust me.”

The open sea was finally visible ahead, you had just passed the exit. Hongjoong still stood at the helm, a satisfied smile on his face, happy to be out of the claustrophobic cave.

You glanced at Mingi, who gave you a nod before heading off to god knows where. You took a deep breath, feeling both exhausted and relieved.

As you made your way back towards Captain Hongjoong, you spotted Seonghwa standing beside him, still as a statue. His sharp, delicate features made him look almost princely, if it weren’t for his hollowed cheeks and the dark circles under his eyes. You couldn’t help but wonder if they fed him enough—or, for that matter, if anyone on this ship had eaten at all. With everything that had happened, food had completely slipped your mind.

Reaching Hongjoong, you tapped him lightly on the shoulder. He turned to face you, his body language telling you he’s exhausted despite him trying not to show it al all.

“Hey, since we’re past the cave’s exit,” you said, quickly moving to the more important matters. “From here, we need to travel westward for about three hours, then head north once we pass the last island on the peninsula. It’ll take us approximately another day to reach the eastern ports.”

He nodded, looking less burdened as you spoke. “I see. Good work,” he said, pausing for a second efore continuing, “We need to discuss your role when we dock. We’re not exactly welcome there, if you catch my drift.” His lips managed to curl into a small smirk. “But there’s a man who’s willing to host us while we take care of some… business.”

“Is that the man you mentioned earlier?” you asked, curiosity piqued.

“No, it’s my—"

Before he could finish his sentence, your stomach growled loudly, cutting him off. Your eyes widened in mortification as you slapped a hand over your mouth, cheeks burning red with embarrassment. You hadn’t realized how hungry you actually were until this moment.

Hongjoong stared at you for a beat, and then, to your surprise, he burst into laughter. “You haven’t eaten in a while, have you?” he asked between breaths, his usual stoicism gone.

You shook your head, mumbling a quick “no” as you tried to disappear into the floor from sheer embarrassment.

“That’s okay,” he said, still chuckling. “You should head to the kitchens. We’ll discuss the plan when everyone’s together.” He turned to Seonghwa, who remained as still and composed as ever. “Seonghwa, show her the way. Make sure she doesn’t get lost—and for God’s sake, make sure you eat something, too.”

Seonghwa nodded, the corners of his lips twitching. He caught your gaze, and with a subtle gesture, indicated that you should follow him. Your face still burning, you gave Hongjoong a quick, flustered nod. “Thank you, Captain. Sorry ‘bout that,” you muttered before quickly following after Seonghwa.

Hongjoong waved you off, still chuckling. “Don’t worry about it. Get some food.”

As you walked through the dimly lit corridors with Seonghwa, the ship gently swayed in time with the waves, and you could still feel your cheeks burning from embarrassment. Seonghwa, of course, said nothing, his footsteps light and quiet as he led the way.

After a few minutes of walking in silence, you mustered up enough courage to speak. “So… do you actually eat?” you asked, chuckling awkwardly.

Seonghwa glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, his expression impassive. “On occasion,” he replied dryly.

You snorted, relieved that he had a sense of humor, however subtle. “Well, it didn’t seem like it. You look like you haven’t slept or eaten in days.”

He raised an eyebrow but didn’t reply, leading you down another set of stairs toward what appeared to be the ship’s galley. “There you go,” Seonghwa said, gesturing toward the entryway of the kitchen and dining hall. “Wooyoung should be around here somewhere. He usually handles the meals.”

Your eyes widened at the mention of Wooyoung. “Oh, interesting. Thanks, Seonghwa.”

Seonghwa gave a short nod. “I’ll make sure to eat something too, later” he added, a hint of teasing in his tone before turning to leave.

“Wait—where are you going?” you asked, feeling a bit more comfortable around him now.

“To report back to the captain,” he replied, “and to rest. Unlike you, I haven’t gotten a break yet.”

You felt a bit guilty for holding him up, but you smiled weakly at his dry sense of humor anyway. “Alright, see you later.”

With that, Seonghwa disappeared into the shadows once again, leaving you to explore the galley in search of Wooyoung—and most importantly, food. You wandered further down the corridor, and soon, the delicious scent of something cooking hit your nose sharply. You nearly started drooling right there and then. The aroma was rich and savoury, with the perfect combination of spices, and it drew you in like a moth to a flame.

You groaned at the prospect of a filling meal. You followed the scent with your nose up in the air, your feet moving almost on autopilot as the hunger gnawed at your stomach. Soon enough, you found yourself standing in the large kitchen and dining area, which made sense considering there were about thirty crewmen aboard—not including the eight others. The kitchen was bustling, but what really caught your attention was Wooyoung, standing at the stove, cooking himself.

You weren’t entirely sure of what you had expected, but it definitely wasn’t this. When Seonghwa said Wooyoung handled the meals, you thought he meant something more along the lines of rationing supplies or managing food storage. Seeing him actually cooking made you slightly sceptical. The mischievous pirate who had spent most of his time getting under your skin was now handling sharp knives and hot pans—what could possibly go wrong?

Curiosity piqued, you walked closer, hovering around him until he noticed you, peeking over his shoulder as he tossed some spicy fried rice in a pan. Beside him, a separate dish sat covered on another stove, its contents a mystery for now. A few other crew members were busying themselves farther away, likely preparing more food for the rest of the ship.

“What are you doing?” Wooyoung asked, his focus still on the rice as he expertly tossed it in the pan.

“Oh, nothing… nothing,” you lied, stepping closer. “Just, you know, looking.”

He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, smirking. “I didn’t know you could cook,” you said, surprised. “You don’t seem the type.”

“Is it really that surprising?” he whispered, turning his head slightly to catch your gaze. Amusement danced in his eyes as he added, “It makes me more attractive, don’t you think?” He shot you a quick wink.

A fiery blush rose to your cheeks at his words, your heart doing flips. Now that he mentioned it, you had to admit—Wooyoung did look rather appealing when he wasn’t actively trying to irritate you. His sleeves were rolled up, exposing the veins in his forearms, and the deft, precise way he handled the pan showcased a kind of skill that was hard not to admire.

“Shut up,” you muttered, your embarrassment growing. “How is that even relevant?”

Wooyoung’s laughter filled the kitchen, sounding more like a monkey than human. You scowled at him, crossing your arms in defiance.

“Besides,” you added offhandedly, trying to regain some composure, “how do I even know if it’s any good? I haven’t even tried any yet. You don’t have to be so overconfident.”

At that, Wooyoung’s playful expression fell away, replaced by a dead-serious look. His pride, especially when it came to his cooking, was not something to be trifled with.

“Sit,” he ordered, pointing toward a nearby table. “I’ll bring you some, and then you can give me your fair judgement.”

Sensing the sudden shift in his mood, you quickly obliged, taking a seat at the table. Maybe doubting Wooyoung’s culinary skills wasn’t the best idea. He disappeared briefly, then returned with two plates piled high with food. The steam rising from the dishes carried the tantalising aroma of spices and roasted meat, and your stomach grumbled in anticipation.

Wooyoung placed the plate in front of you, along with a set of cutlery, and stood back with his arms crossed, watching you intently. The spread before you was impressive: spicy fried rice, seasoned roasted potatoes, and fried chicken coated in a vibrant red sauce. Everything looked perfectly cooked, and the rich, savoury aroma made you feel heaven.

You hesitated for a moment, feeling the weight of Wooyoung’s expectant gaze. Then, slowly, you picked up your fork and took a bite of the rice and chicken. The moment the flavours hit your tongue, your eyes widened in disbelief. It wasn’t just good—it was abso-fucking-lutely divine. The heat from the spices was perfectly balanced with the richness of the sauce, and the fried rice had a satisfying crunch to it that elevated the entire dish.

You closed your eyes, savouring the taste as a pleased sigh escaped your lips. When you opened them again, Wooyoung was staring at you with a smug grin on his face.

“Well?” he asked, his tone dripping with self-satisfaction.

You couldn’t deny it. “This is amazing,” you admitted, shaking your head in disbelief. “I didn’t think anyone could cook this well on a ship.”

Wooyoung’s grin widened. “I told you I’m good, didn’t I?”

You rolled your eyes, but there was no hiding the smile that tugged at your lips. “Fine, you win this one. But don’t let it get to your head.”

He gave you a mock bow, clearly enjoying his little victory. “Too late.”

As you continued to eat, Wooyoung sat down across from you, digging into his own plate with the same enthusiasm. For a few moments, there was a comfortable silence as you both focused on the meal.

"So," he said after a while, "what do you think? Does it make me more attractive?"

You nearly choked on your rice, glaring at him as you swallowed. "You just had to ruin the moment, didn't you?"

His laugh once again filled your ears. How annoying you thought, smiling to yourself.

As you finished eating, more crewmen began to file into the dining hall, grabbing their own plates and piling on food. The atmosphere grew more lively, but you were already feeling sleepy, especially after the amazing food. After all, it had been a long couple of days.

You picked up your plate and made your way to the sink, leaving the dish with the growing pile of dirty ones. You felt a smidge of guilt for whoever had to wash them all, it wouldn’t be an easy task. As you turned to head back, you spotted Wooyoung also cleaning up his area, still looking refreshed and energetic despite the long day.

"Has the captain told you anything about what we're supposed to do when we dock?" you asked him, maybe he would have some answers.

Wooyoung shrugged, drying his hands on a towel. "He just said we’re meeting in the map room tonight. Only us, the others, and him. We’re not supposed to talk about it until the rest of the crew's out of earshot."

You raised an eyebrow. "Why all the secrecy? They're part of the crew, too."

A sly smile curled on his lips. “You’ve been with us for a few days now, but you’ll learn soon enough—not all crewmen can be trusted. There are always ears where you least expect them.” He winked before turning back to supervise the kitchen.

With a slight nod, you said your goodbyes to Wooyoung and left the kitchen, heading back to your room. His words stuck with you, though. What were they so cautious about? And why the distrust among their own crew? It felt odd, and your instincts kept raising red flags at whatever it was they had planned to do.

Once in your room, you shut the door and sat at the small desk by the window. It was the first quiet moment you’d had to yourself in days, and your mind began to churn with thoughts and questions. You reached for the loose paper you had been given, scribbling down whatever came to mind.

The first thing you had considered, when you’d first been taken aboard, was the idea of escaping, you had thought of nothing else. But now, after spending time with the crew, especially Hongjoong and the others, you knew better. These pirates weren’t ordinary men—they were highly skilled in what they did, and escaping was definitely out the window. You sighed, accepting that, for now, it was better to stay put and go along with whatever they asked of you than to waste energy on an escape plan that had no chance of success.

The second thing that nagged at you was their reputation. You had heard rumours about this crew before—they were renowned for doing certain unspeakable things, but so far, you hadn’t witnessed anything that aligned with those stories. In fact, they had been surprisingly kind to you, even if some of them, like Wooyoung, enjoyed teasing you, constantly. Despite all that, doubt lingered in the back of your mind. You had only been with them for three days, and for all you knew, they were just waiting for the right moment to take off their masks. You couldn’t shake the feeling that your usefulness to them had a limit—and when that limit was reached, what would they do with you?

Third, and perhaps most pressing, was the matter of what they intended to do when they docked. You didn’t know much, but from what Hongjoong had said, it was clear they weren’t exactly welcome in the town. What had they done to be so unwelcome? And what was the nature of the business they had to take care of? You couldn’t help but wonder if it involved something illegal—something you could easily get caught up in, and potentially ruin all progress you had made in life.

As you stared at the half-finished notes on the paper, and one random flower drawing, your thoughts spiralled further. There was a lot you didn’t know, and the more you learned about these pirates, the more questions seemed to pile up.

You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t even notice how much time had passed. The sun had again been replaced by the moon high in the sky, its glow filtering through the small window of your cabin. Outside, the ship bustled with activity as the crew prepared to speed up the pace and retire for the night, now that they were out of the more precarious part of the waters.

You zoned out, meanwhile a cat had wandered into your room through the open door, its sleek body hopping onto your bed and making itself comfortable. It stretched out lazily, giving you a sideways glance before deciding it wasn't getting enough attention. With a graceful leap, it hopped up onto your desk, startling you out of your daydream. You blinked at the feline, and it blinked back at you, then let out a loud, insistent meow, demanding your attention.

Your hand slipped from where you had been propping up your head, and you stared at the cat in mild surprise. It was a beautiful Siamese with big, curious eyes that studied you closely before padding closer. It hopped down onto your lap, rubbing itself against you and purring softly. You couldn't help but laugh, the restlessness that had been building in your chest easing as you patted the cat’s soft fur.

"Where did you come from?" you murmured, scratching behind its ears as it leaned into your touch.

A few minutes later, a voice called out from the doorway. "There you are!"

You looked up to see a man standing there, his broad figure filling the doorway. He let out a sigh of relief upon seeing the cat, his expression softening as he stepped into the room. "I was looking everywhere for you. You can't just run off like that, you know?"

The cat, hearing its owner, perked up immediately and jumped out of your lap, sauntering back over to him. He scooped her up in his arms, and she looked impossibly tiny against his large frame. He nuzzled her affectionately before looking up at you with a smile that deepened the dimples in his cheeks.

"She doesn’t usually go up to strangers this easily," he said, clearly amused. "I think she likes you."

You couldn’t help but giggle at the thought. "Well, I like her too. She’s adorable."

You stood up and walked over to him, reaching out to stroke the cat’s fur again as she wiggled happily in his arms. "What’s her name?"

"This little one? Her name’s Byeol," he replied, his voice filled with affection as he looked down at her. "She’s my little star."

"That’s a perfect name for her," you mused, still petting Byeol. "But what about you? What’s your name? I asked you yesterday too, but you never answered."

The man’s smile grew wider, his dimples drawing you attention even more as his eyes turned into little crescents. "I’m Choi San!" he said with enthusiasm, his voice carrying a warmth that made you smile in return.

"Nice to finally make your acquaintance, Choi San," you said, watching him closely. It was hard to reconcile the image in front of you—this man with his soft smile, cradling a tiny cat—with all the tall tales you had heard about the pirates. He seemed so gentle, so full of joy. You couldn't help but wonder how someone like him could be a man who allegedly killed without remorse.

San noticed your thoughtful expression and tilted his head slightly, his smile never wavering. "What’s on your mind?" he asked.

You hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to phrase your thoughts. "I guess... I just didn’t expect someone like you to be, well... a cat dad," you admitted, hoping your words didn’t come off as offensive.

San chuckled, the sound deep and rich. "Things aren't always what they seem, right?"

You nodded slowly, feeling a strange sense of calm in his presence. "Yeah, I guess not."

"Oh, by the way," San added with a playful grin, "the captain told me to come look for you. Said we have things to discuss."

"Ugh, finally," you groaned. "The fact that he dragged this out for so long has been eating away at my soul."

San laughed, the sound warm and so different from Wooyoung’s. Wait a minute why were you suddenly thinking of him, you were taken aback at your brain playing tricks like this. San beckoned you to follow him, and with Byeol nestled comfortably in his arms, you both made your way to the map room. The corridors of the ship were quieter now, the hustle of earlier fading as the rest of the crew settled into their rooms.

As you entered the map room, most of the others had already gathered. There was one unfamiliar face in the group, a man you hadn't seen since your first encounter with the crew. He sat in a corner, arms crossed and eyes distant, clearly uninterested in anything or anyone in the room. You wondered briefly who he was but decided not to question it.

You pulled up a chair and sat down, glancing at San, who was still holding Byeol. He gently released the cat from his arms, letting her roam freely around the room. Byeol wasted no time in greeting the others, nuzzling up to each of them, her little purrs filling the room.

From across the table, your eyes met Yeosang’s. He gave you a small wave, his smile as sweet and boyish as ever. You felt your cheeks flush with heat, and you waved back shyly. He chuckled softly at your reaction, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer before turning back to Mingi beside him and continuing their conversation.

Just then, the door creaked open, and Captain Hongjoong strode in, his sheer presence silencing the room. As always, Seonghwa trailed close behind him, quietly locking the door after them.

"Alright," Hongjoong began, taking his place at the head of the table, his sunglasses perched on top of his head, stormy eyes looking at each face intensely. We’ve got a lot to cover, and not much time to do it."

You leaned forward slightly, eager to know what this urgent meeting was for. You still didn’t fully understand the task at hand, but the way Hongjoong and the others talked about it, it must be something very important.

"As I’m sure most of you are aware," Hongjoong continued, glancing around the room, "we’re heading into hostile territory. The port we’re docking at isn’t exactly a friendly place for us, or any pirate for that matter, but we have a contact there who’s willing to help us— you’ve all met him before, although our brand new navigator might come off as a surprise for him,”

He paused, letting his words settle over the room before continuing. “This heist might be our most important one yet, and we absolutely cannot afford any mistakes.”

His gaze shifted toward you, locking eyes in a way that made you want to run away. You felt a wave of anxiety wash over you—you were inexperienced, a liability among a group of seasoned pirates who had honed their skills over years of dangerous work. Sure, you could navigate and read maps, but when came the questions of combat and risky missions? You were out of your depth.

For a brief moment, you started spiraling into self-doubt, your mind racing with questions about your usefulness. What if you messed up? What if you put everyone in danger?

But Hongjoong’s voice broke through your anxious thoughts. “But this time,” he said, eyes gleaming with a spark of a plan, “we have someone who’d be great for going undercover. Our faces are already known, but I doubt anyone has seen our navigator before.” His words were pointed but not unkind. “Even if they have, they probably wouldn’t remember.”

Well, ouch, you thought to yourself, feeling a bit slighted by the implication. But before you could dwell on it, Hongjoong pressed on.

“Our target runs a popular saloon and inn uptown, which, of course, is funded by his illegal auction houses operating behind the government's back. Now I wouldn’t have cared about a lousy businessman like him at all but unfortunately, his activities have started to affect our business as well,” he said, his tone turning sharp. You didn’t even want to know what he meant by their business. “His lawyer is who we need. He holds all the evidence we require to shut that fat pig down once and for all.”

The room was silent, as if each of the men were absorbing what Hongjoong was saying. You could see the intensity in their faces as they nodded in understanding.

“We’ll reach the port by noon tomorrow, and our work begins immediately. We shall leave the town as soon as we’ve completed the mission,” Hongjoong continued. “Pack light and only the essentials. The ship will be docked elsewhere to avoid drawing attention to our presence. Questions?”

You hesitated for a moment, then raised your hand timidly. “Umm… what exactly do I have to do?”

Hongjoong’s eyes flickered back to you, his expression softening slightly. “I’m getting to that,” he replied. “Once we’ve reached our accommodation, the first to depart will be our navigator…”

He trailed off, his face going blank for a moment as if he’d just remembered something important. “Wait… I never asked for your name.

The room fell into an awkward silence as Hongjoong’s flustered expression mirrored the confusion in the room. You blinked in surprise. Hongjoong had just come to the realisation that after nearly four days of you being on this ship, none of them had ever confirmed who you were. What if they’d picked up the wrong person?

“Oh… right,” you stammered, feeling your face heat up. “My name’s Aurora.”

Hongjoong nodded, casting a quick glance toward Seonghwa, who hadn’t shown a single flicker of emotion since the meeting began. It was like they were communicating with their eyes.

“Whoa, I can’t believe we forgot that!” Wooyoung exclaimed, slapping his hand to his forehead in disbelief, earning a few deflated murmurs in agreement from the others. Even San was shaking his head, feeling a little disappointed that they had missed such an important detail.

Hongjoong shook his head, visibly trying to shake off his little glitch before returning to business. “Anyway, Aurora will be the first to move,” he explained, focusing back on the task. “Your job is simple: go up to the saloon building and introduce yourself as a collector of rare navigation instruments. I assume that won’t be too hard for you?”

You nodded quickly, trying to ignore the nerves building in your stomach. “I can do it,” you said, your voice louder than you expected.

Hongjoong gave you a curt nod, his eyes briefly meeting yours as if searching for a hint of doubt. He shifted slightly, and pursed his lips in thought. "You’ll reserve a room for two," he continued, "and during your conversations, ask the host for places where you can buy such instruments. Make it clear you’re looking for something underground since a collector like yourself would prefer to avoid the rare items acquisition tax. Slip him a few bills, and he’ll be more than happy to point you towards the auction house."

You took note of his instructions, feeling a little excited at the thought of going undercover. It was the first time you had done something like this, maybe it won’t be as life threatening as it sounded.

Hongjoong took a deep breath before continuing. "San will accompany you," he said, glancing toward the man, "since he’s the only other face that people around here don’t know much of."

You looked at San, who met your gaze and gave you a playful wink. His presence, there with you, was a little reassuring, in a way—having someone you were comfortable with might help ease the tension.

"After you’ve found out the location of the auction house," Hongjoong said, his tone darkening, "this is where the difficult part begins. From what my sources tell me, the lawyer lives in a permanently reserved room in the saloon building. He operates from there, running the auction house's legal affairs. As night falls, you two will need to find him and make sure he doesn’t go anywhere—quietly." His eyes shifted between you and San.

You swallowed nervously. "What happens once we have him?" you asked, your voice an unintended whisper.

"Once we have him with no alarms raised, the job becomes a little easier," Hongjoong replied. His eyes glinted, a smirk playing on his lips. "He has a liability we can exploit, something that’ll make our interrogation a lot smoother. We’ll use it to extract what we need."

You nodded, though there was something dark in his words. This lawyer wasn’t exactly innocent, you knew that, but you couldn’t help feeling some pity for him. Whatever Hongjoong had planned, it wasn’t going to be pretty.

"As for the others," Hongjoong continued, turning to the rest of the crew, "Wooyoung and Yeosang will tail the man during the day. Keep track of his movements and note where he goes. Jongho, take Yunho and Mingi to restock the ship’s supplies while you’re in port."

The crew nodded in understanding, their expressions set in determination. Hongjoong’s grin widened, clearly pleased with how things were falling into place.

"We’ll reconvene at night to move the lawyer from the inn to our accommodation. I’ll have a room ready for him." He held a cheshire grin on his face, and you shuddered at the thought of what might await the poor man.

“Once we have the evidence, we can anonymously turn it over to the authorities and get what we need in return. All clear?"

A chorus of "Yes, Captain" and "Aye, Captain" echoed in the room, the crew eager to carry out their roles.

"Good," Hongjoong said, satisfied. "You’re all dismissed until we dock." He paused, glancing in your direction. "Mingi, I need you to continue training Aurora in defense. San, you’ll be teaching her hand-to-hand combat as well."

"Sure, Captain," Mingi replied, turning to you with a friendly smile. "Take good rest, Ms. Navigator. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow."

You returned his smile, feeling a mixture of exhaustion and anticipation. As everyone dispersed, you couldn’t help but feel the weight of what was to come—the danger, the deception, and the responsibility that had unexpectedly fallen onto your shoulders.

San caught your eye one last time, giving you a nod as if to say, You’ve got this.

And even though you weren’t entirely sure if you have it, you nodded back, determined to see it through.

However, as you left the meeting and wandered back toward your room, exhaustion hit you like a wave. You were so ready to sleep again—you had barely gotten any proper rest, this job was much more demanding and taxing than the usual small ones you took up on for merchants.

You missed your parents. A pang of longing shot through you as you thought about them, wondering when, or if, you’d ever see them again. It had been years since they were sent on their own assignment, and there had been no word from them since. You missed being a whole family—you missed bickering with your younger brother, it must be around the time for his final examinations. You hoped he was doing well with his and not causing the school trouble as he often did.

As you wandered back to your room you let yourself be consumed by the overwhelming thoughts, all the deep emotions you had put away, tears fell from your eyes, marking dark spots on your shirt and leaving your vision blurry. You held on the handle of the door of your room, grip tightening as you found it difficult to open it and face loneliness again.

However terrible these pirates were, they lived life as it was intended and they were so carefree while you were just existing for now. The splotches on your shirt grew, you let out a bitter laugh wondering why your mood shifted so suddenly. Little whimpers and sobs escape your lips, then you felt warmth after the coldness of the tears.

Just as your grip on the door handle tightened, a pair of warm, calloused hands cupped your face, gently swiping away the tears. Startled, you blinked up through your blurry vision and found yourself face to face with a concerned Yunho. His gaze held a desperation to comfort you, something that felt of place on a supposedly ruthless pirate.

“What’s wrong?” he whispered.

Snapping out of it, you pulled your face away, taking your hand off the door handle, wiping at your eyes, rubbing them red. Yunho moved his hands trying to get yours away from your face before you could hurt yourself. You sniffled trying to calm yourself and put on a weak smile, “It’s nothing, just feeling a little overwhelmed…. that’s all,” your words did not convince Yunho.

He wasn’t good with people, you couldn’t pick them apart like machine to understand how they worked. You had to be careful and sensitive. Yunho didn’t like the way your face showed nothing but pain. He signed not knowing how to reply, “Can i show you a place, i think you’ll like it right now,” he looked at his feet, his hands fiddling with the edge of his shirt, “going there helps me too,”

You hesitated, the idea of being this vulnerable in front of a pirate didn’t please you, but you agreed nonetheless, "Okay," you whispered. "I trust you."

Yunho lightened up a little at your words, and he gently took your hand, leading you up toward the poop deck. You followed him around the mizzen mast until he stopped in front of a trapdoor. Without saying much, Yunho unlatched the trapdoor, you don’t know how, since it had seemed to be sealed shut with metal but you didn’t think much of it. He jumped down first, holding out his arms to help you down.

The passage was narrow and dimly lit, with small fixtures glowing faintly. Yunho’s head nearly touched the low ceiling, and the space felt tight. He closed the trapdoor behind you with a small whizz, and you continued down the corridor until he stopped in front of an unseemly wooden door.

"I’ve only shown this to the other guys," Yunho explained quietly. "But now, you too. No one else knows about this. It’s special to me." He glanced at you before continuing, "We’re right under your room and the captain’s. No one can hear me down here, but I can hear everything."

He opened the door, and the creak echoed through the small space. You hesitated for a second before stepping inside. At first, it was pitch black. You could hear soft clicks and whirrs, and then, all of a sudden, there was a sliver of moonlight creeping in from above. The light grew, revealing an open room, one wall slowly rising to reveal the vast, open sea.

The stars sparkled over the water, the moon casting a glow across the room. The sounds stopped, you felt yunho walk around the room, and all of a sudden there was a burst of light in the room, much more intense than the moonlight, you looked around there were no torches no fixtures just an open room with one wall lined with shelves upon shelves of books, a mattress big enough to fit ten people, folded up towards the other wall and then of course the newly revealed balcony.

"How is it?" Yunho asked softly, his eyes watching your reaction.

"It’s so... wow," you breathed, your earlier worries momentarily forgotten. "This is amazing."

Yunho chuckled softly, walking toward the folded mattress and sitting down, patting the space next to him. "I designed this all by myself. It was my first real project when I got a hold over my abilities," he said, pride lacing his voice.

You smiled and walked over to join him. Sitting down on the mattress, you let the calming sounds of the ocean fill the silence. For the first time in days, you felt a sense of peace. Although that was not all, Yunho seemed to have one more surprise in store for you. He stood up and walked over to the bookshelf, flicking a switch you hadn’t noticed before.

Suddenly, the ground beneath you began to shift. The balcony extended outward, nearly doubling the space of the room. You gasped in awe as the floor moved, the motion smooth but stopping with a gentle jolt. The room now opened even further toward the endless ocean, giving you an unobstructed view of the night sky, its stars shimmering more vividly than ever.

Yunho returned, settling down beside you on the large mattress again. “Lie down,” he said softly, putting his arms behind his head as a makeshift pillow.

You hesitated for a second before lying back and copying him, your gaze immediately drawn to the open sky. The stars twinkled like diamonds scattered across the dark canvas, the crescent moon glowing softly in the distance. You took a deep breath, feeling the cool night breeze brush against your skin, carrying with it the smell of the sea.

You turned your head slightly, your eyes catching Yunho’s. His eyes twinkled like the stars too, he had a contented smile on his face, you smiled too and turned back enjoying the calm. Time felt like it had stopped.

The sound of the waves gently lapping against the ship, the light breeze, and the soft hum of the world around you, gave you suck comfort. You didn’t know when it happened, but eventually, you drifted off to dreamless sleep, the stars overhead keeping you company.

© alxtiny . Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, repost, or use my works on any platform in any way.

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[takamimami]

congratulations on your 100 followers! woohoo! for the event id like to request fem!reader, prompt “Hmm, is that a threat or a promise?” for my beloved captain kidd

hello anon!! thank you for the submission, I was hoping someone would request this for my little cranky red head :3 I know this one isn't very smut heavy buuuuuuuut someone else's request may or may not be a continuation of this story line... so here's some crumbs while I work on that one :3 hope you enjoy <3

Kidd x F!Reader - NSFW - “Hmm, is that a threat or a promise?” - STORY UNDER THE CUT - MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DNI 🔞 CW: SMUT; cockwarming, reader is a brat, inappropriate use of devil fruit powers, kidd is a lil cranky baby, dom!kidd vibes if you squint, mentions of alcohol consumption ---word count 1.6k

You weren’t sure why you had let Quincy convince you to come out to the tavern tonight, given you planned on being up early the next morning to attend the farmer’s market that was held in town so you could stock up on some things before your crew set sail at the end of the week. Yet, here you were, nursing a glass of rum as you listened to Quincy and House go back and forth about something you couldn’t bother feigning interest in. 

“Hey, Y/N, you good?” 

You snap out of your trance and gaze over to your left, Hip raising a brow at you as she motions down at your drink. 

“Yeah, just getting tired, that’s all.”

Quincy rolls her eyes, reaching over and lifting your glass to your mouth, to which you reluctantly part your lips and gulp the last of the liquid down.

“That’s more like it! You promised you’d party with us tonight! You always drink with the boys when they ask you to,” she teases, nudging your shoulder as you glare at her.

“That’s because the boys like to drink on the ship,” you grumble, scanning the area around your table before your eyes land back on the ginger woman.

“Awh, c’mon, Y/N,” Hip teases, flagging down the bartender to order another round of drinks, “Let loose with us for once, what’s the worst that could happen?”

You smirk and grab a shot glass from the bartender’s tray, deciding one more drink wouldn’t kill you, and it was just enough to give you a bit of a buzz. You grimaced as the liquid burned your throat, and after you all had finished Hop and Quincy jumped up, ushering your whole table out onto the dance floor despite your protests. 

You indulge your friends for a bit, dancing and giggling with them as eyes from all areas of the tavern fall on your group. A couple of the girls play into it, but you pay the onlookers no mind as you actually let yourself get lost in the rhythm of the music. 

Your group's antics are abruptly interrupted when a loud thud pulls everyone’s attention toward the front of the tavern, and a giddy Pomp and Bubblegum stumble in through the doorway with the rest of the crew following in tow behind them. The tavern-goers stiffen at the sight of the Kidd Pirates, specifically Kidd and Killer, who are the last two to enter as the survey the area. Kidd’s amber eyes land on you, and you can tell by the expression on his face that poker night did not end in his favor. 

He grunts as he brushes past you, the tension in the room thickening as the rest of the boys come to stand around the table with you and the girls.

“Alright, who cleared the Boss’ pockets tonight?”

Your question earns a chuckle from Killer, and even Wire gives an amused smirk as Pomp pulls a bag of berries from his waist, the pouch nearly overflowing. 

“He’s just a sore loser,” Heat mutters, giving you a warm smile as he slips into the seat next to yours.

“Well, duh, this is Kidd we’re talking about,” you giggle, looking over your shoulder to see him ordering a drink at the bar. “I am surprised he came out if he had such a bad run tonight.”

You notice Heat’s eyes flick to Wire, whose face has returned to his usually expressionless stare. 

“He only came because you were here,” he blurts out, and before you can say anything in response Kidd’s angry growl echoes from over your shoulder.

“You can all shut your fucking mouths, I came to get a drink,” he grumbles, plopping down in a seat across the table from you. 

“Yeah, okay,” Wire says, the amused smirk making an appearance again, “Boss just doesn’t wanna admit you’re his good luck charm.”

You feel a slight blush creep on your cheeks, but it quickly dissipates with Kidd’s next rebuttal. 

“I don’t need a damn good luck charm, I need a crew who doesn’t cheat me out of my fucking money!”

You laugh as the bickering starts, and you push back your chair to stand and walk over to the other side of the table, forcing yourself into Kidd’s lap and batting your eyelashes up at him.

“It’s okay to admit that you missed me,” you croon, pinching your boyfriend’s cheek as he goes red from your sudden display of affection. He averts his gaze from you and only offers a dismissive grunt as you place a gentle kiss on his chin, and he does the best he can to hide how flustered he is.

Kidd was never one to be overtly affectionate in public, and you knew this, but you still loved riling him up, especially when he was cranky or in a mood. It almost always worked at getting him to relax, and this time was no exception. Before you know it the whole crew is laughing and enjoying themselves, the topic of Kidd’s loss at the poker table a distant memory as everyone began breaking off into side conversations and antics.

You were listening to Quincy tell a story about some guy she swindled out of some jewelry when you shifted slightly in Kidd’s lap, feeling something hard in his lap as you repositioned your legs. You quirk a brow up at Kidd, who doesn’t look down at you in response. You think maybe you were mistaken, so you decide to test your luck by slinging your leg all the way over to the opposite side of his leg. Sure enough, Kidd’s erection pressed up against your ass as you settled into his lap, his fingers digging into your hips as a warning.

“Watch it,” he grunts, and being the brat you are you look up back at him innocently, feigning innocence as you smirk up at him. “What ever do you mean, Captain? I’m just getting comfortable.”

He leans forward and brings his mouth to your ear, keeping his voice low enough for only you to hear. “You keep this up and I’ll make sure you’re more than comfortable, brat.”

You feel a pulse run down your abdomen and pool in between your legs, a wicked smile curling up on your lips as you pull back and meet his gaze.

“Hmm, is that a threat or a promise?”

You whip your head back around and pretend to rejoin the conversation, feeling Kidd’s fingers dig deeper into the flesh of your thigh as he chuckles deeply.

“Killer, pass us that bottle,” he commands, and Killer slides the bottle half way across the table. It stops far enough away that you have to stand to reach it, the bottom of your skirt riding up and letting your ass peak out from the bottom. 

Kidd shifts in his seat, taking the opportunity to unzip his pants as you lean forward and grab the bottle. Then, just as you’re about to resume your position in his lap, he hooks a finger around your underwear, pulling them to the side and guiding your hips back to his lap with his metal hand, the tip of his erection proding at your entrance as he shifts his hips again to sheath himself inside of you.

You fight back a gasp at the sudden stretch of him, taking a long swig from the bottle as he leans forward and presses a kiss to your shoulder.

“Keep it there, and don’t make a sound,” he growls into your neck, “I’ll reward you if you’re good.”

You shudder at the feeling of his breath tickling your neck, and you hand him the bottle as you do your best to sit still, trying to listen to the conversation that is being had across the table. 

You manage to keep up impressions for some time, finishing off the bottle of liquor with Kidd before nearly breaking character when you feel something cold prod at your inner thigh.

You flick your eyes down to find Kidd bringing a fucking metal spoon to your core, massaging it against your clit before using his devil fruit powers to make it vibrate.

Your cheeks flush as the sensation sends a shock up your whole body, and Wire quirks a brow over at you curiously. 

“Uh oh, someone’s had too much to drink,” he teases, and as he does you feel everyone’s eyes on you, and your cheeks only grow more red.

“I-I’m fine,” you stutter, deciding the guise of being drunk was better than them giving you shit about what was actually transpiring. 

You could feel your walls start contracting around Kidd’s cock as he tightened his hold on your hips, his cock pulsing from the sensation. The tiniest of whimpers escapes your lips just as you feel your core tighten, but Kidd pulls the spoon from you and tosses it on the table, pulling everyone’s eyes as you struggle not to cry out in disapproval.

“Well, looks like I gotta get this lightweight brat back to the ship,” he murmurs, no one even thinking twice about what was actually occurring. Kidd swats your ass encouragingly as you stand up, moving slowly enough so he can conceal himself back in his pants before standing. 

You waddle out of the tavern with Kidd on your heels, trying to ignore the feeling of your own arousal dripping down your leg as your legs rub together.

Once you’re out in the open air, Kidd lifts you up and tosses you over his shoulder, swatting at your ass as he lengthens his strides. 

“I hope you’re ready for your reward, brat.”

Read Part 2 here :3

✨come say hai :3✨ 100 FOLLOWERS EVENT

[ncsdlr]

Sailor's Treasure

Marvel

AU

Warnings: dub!con(?), undetailed overstim, a sprinkle of fluff, hopeful ending

Pairings: Pirate!Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader

Word Count: 3380

A/N: I was about to finish this (literally so close) but then another idea popped into my head and I couldn't really help it so i put this aside and worked on that one. If you find this first, props to you, you're doing it in order. Also, I for sure missed a few things that should have a warning on them, I got lazy:/

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

As her ship swayed to a halt, Wanda stood at her wheel and gazed upon all that lived on the island they'd chosen to take a stop-over. Then in the distance, she spotted something moving behind the bushes, mirroring her position as they both stared at each other, one looking into be shaking in the cold night air while one stood calm and curious. Wanda got the vibe that you knew she knew you were there, and that you knew she had seen you. 

Wanda turned back to her crew for a second, bidding her goodbyes to them but not exactly telling them where she would be heading. She feared what they might do to you wouldn't be as gentle as what she would do. When she turned back to look at you, the space you once occupied was empty. Wanda wondered where you could be and stepped off her ship, surveying the surrounding area of where you used to be. 

Wanda was halfway across the distance from her ship to the bush you were hiding behind, and when she reached that spot, you were not there. She looked left and right, even behind her, but no. All she found was her remaining crew packing up their equipment. A snap of a twig caught her attention, and she moved quickly to reach whatever made the noise, hoping it was you. To her delight, it was you, crouched down beside a tree covering your head with your hands in an attempt to hide yourself better. 

The woman found you amusing, a tiny little thing, looking about as innocent as a little bunny. She wasn't even sure if you knew she had already found you or not, and this truly almost made her laugh. While Wanda hovered over you, she scanned your small body, adorned with thin, ripped-up rags, a beige bra covering your chest under the tattered sheets you seem to register as clothes. Despite the ragged, destroyed, and dirtied clothing, you looked rather beautiful, innocent almost. It felt so right to Moana to see that you were hiding like this. She looks so corruptible, Moana thought. 

"Y'know, ye'r bad at hiding." You gasped sharply and crawled backward on your hands, grazing them on pointy rocks in the process. Wanda only followed you though, walking closer to you while watching you inch away from her little by little. It was futile really, to attempt to seek safety when she was capable of manhandling you back to harm if she wanted to. 

Wanda held the laugh that threatened to escape her for your mind's sake, trying her best not to scare you even more by showing you the kindest eyes she could. She didn't know why, but the more she looked at you, the more she couldn't contain her sloppy desires. It was something about you, something she could not determine that forced her carnality out of her. You made her want to just tear you apart, touch you, ruin you, fuck you for all that you were worth. Wanda wanted to touch your pretty face, caress your hair, feel your skin on her hands, and dig her nails into the supple flesh of your thighs.

So that's what Wanda did, taking a cautious step towards you and kneeling to see you better all the while your body trembled with fear, keeping eye contact with her. Wanda thought, gods she will be the death of me. Wanda placed her hand on your knee lightly, watching as you glanced at it before looking back into her eyes. 

"What's ye'r name, Lil girl?" You looked at the woman apprehensively, your hands clasped tightly over your chest. For safety measures, you shifted slightly before deciding that she seemed harmless enough to trust with your name. 

"Y-Y/N" Your eyes were wide and seemed accusing, Wanda didn't like that, so she worked to change your fearful view of her. Wanda gently cupped your face, closing the space between your lips and hers to be only a hair away from kissing you. 

"Ye'r really pretty, girlie. How 'bout y'let me take care o' ya? I'll make y'feel s'good, lil girl." Wanda tucked your hair behind your ears, looking into your shining doe eyes while you nodded dumbly. The proximity between you and Wanda was dizzying, and the sailor was well aware of the strong effect she had on you. Wanda shamelessly got off to the thought of flustering you. 

"Y'gotta trust me now, pretty girl." She murmured, taking hold of your face and closing the gap. Finally, you thought. This whole time you were wondering when things would progress. You were still apprehensive, Wanda felt that in the way your bottom lip trembled against hers as you kissed her back. Your pussy spoke differently though, the heat from it radiating against Wanda's thigh that you didn't know was between your legs. 

Wanda pressed her thigh against your core rather harshly, causing you to gasp into her mouth. Her fingers played with the thin strap of your clothes, honestly considering whether or not she should just rip the fabric off your body completely. I mean, it was already torn anyway, so what could be the harm, Wanda thought. So that's what she did, harshly exposing your sweaty skin to the cold night air as your clothes are ripped off of you. 

Wanda's hands wander all over your body, touching every inch of you that she could reach. Her kisses traveled south, sucking blush red marks that would turn a deep shade of purple later on your chest and your neck before pressing feather-light kisses between the valley of your plush breast, the same breasts that she squeezed and pulled at like they were some form of stress balls in her rough hands. 

Her hands on you drove you to the brink of an orgasm, the way Wanda's lips unknowingly ghosted over the gills on your neck earlier made you let out a stifled moan, gripping at the veld below you to ground yourself. Her kisses feel heavenly on you, and from the way, she kept biting at the cups of your bra with her fingertips, you aided the woman by taking them off of your body yourself. The woman gripped at your tits further, missing the way they shone with a peculiar sparkle, a sparkle that humans certainly did not have. 

You didn't even realize the way Wanda had moved to kneel between your legs, and she found the way you looked even more laughable. Your mouth was agape, your eyes lazily open and staring right back at her. It seemed that your body and mind were here but you were officially clouded. Good, Wanda thought gripping your hips and pulling you closer so that your hot mound was pressed against hers. 

"Y'ready to feel good, girlie?" Wanda asked, looking into your eyes as if she was staring into your soul. You answered her with a mere nod, your hazy brain unable to verbalize your nod. But, of course, this was not enough for Wanda, she was not satisfied by your stupid nod. She wanted you to speak, and voice your opinion on the matter. Wanda resorted to gripping your face tightly, growling her next words into your mouth.

"Y'gotta speak up or I won't be touchin' ya at all."

"Yes, I'm ready." You hurried out, nodding along to your words in case she wanted more than just your words as well. If earlier you were terrified of the redheaded woman and wanted to rid yourself of her, now you just wanted her inside you. 

Creatures of your kind had naturally high libidos, but ever since the attack last year, you were the only one to survive, having to pleasure yourself in times of desperation. It was never enough though, your fingers felt too thin and unpleasurable. You needed something more, someone else to do it for you because you couldn't make yourself cum the way other people did. You were so undeniably horny right now, and both you and Wanda knew she was the only one who could alleviate the hot pain in your abdomen. 

Finally, after what felt like years of waiting as a wet mess, Wanda's hand dipped down between your legs, touching your sweet pussy. You cringed as her cold fingertips toyed with you, the semi-unfamiliar feeling jolting you back to reality. You felt as though Wanda should take you right there, fuck you hard and rough without much of a care for your wellbeing and the possible aftermath.

"Mommy, please." You begged, much to Wanda's amusement.

"What are ya beggin' for?" Wanda's eyes shined at you, showing you that she desired the same thing as you. Shameless fucking. Although Wanda clearly understood what you were begging for, she just found you adorably mirthful.

"Begging for you to fuck me, please." You furthered, adding your doe eyes into the mix of pouts and words. At this point, you were sure you'd do anything if it meant you'd have Wanda in you. Thankfully, Wanda aided your pleads, pushing her fingers past your slicked-up cunt and immediately curling her fingers. But of course, you can't have what you want just like that, Wanda thought.

As you lay there waiting for more, your eyes blinked open. You realized at that moment that Wanda's fingers were not moving. You literally cried, tears filling up your eyes and flowing down your cheeks to represent watching the sunset over the waterfalls. It felt beyond frustrating that Wanda just wouldn't move, teasing you all the while staring at you with a knowing look.

As your tears flowed freely, you thought, she won't tease me if I beg more. So, that's what you did, opening your mouth to speak when suddenly all that came out of you were choked and stuttered moans. It was then that Wanda began her onslaught upon your hole, curling her fingers in time with the rhythm pulling them in and out of you at a fast pace. It felt so good, so much so that your eyes were rolling to the back of your head, your back was arching, and one of your hands while the other continued to grip the grass beside you. 

Your cum came in spurts of clear, sticky liquid, pooling in Wanda's hand as she strived to keep going. By the time your pussy hurt, she was still going at it, fingering you like she wouldn't get the chance to anymore. Her hand only stopped when yours tried to weakly push her away, and your moans turned into pleasurable whimpers. You panted in her face as her kisses scattered all over your body. If you were being honest, you could barely feel her grounding kisses, each one seeming to dumb you down to nothing even more. 

Suddenly, Wanda pulled herself away from you, stripping you of the warmth you received from her. You meant to whine at the woman, but when you registered what she was doing you quickly shut yourself up and obviously gawked at her. Wanda was stripping herself of her clothing, taking each of them off piece by piece and in the process, teasing you with the sultry sway of her hips. As Wanda took off the last piece of clothing on her body, revealing her ample breasts and her toned, smooth-looking stomach, you watched her, taking note of every little mole on her beautiful body.

Your hands moved on their own accord, lightly placing themselves on the back of Wanda's plush thighs and pulling her closer to you. Wanda knelt beside you, caressing your cheeks with the tips of her fingers and pulling you closer to connect her mouth to yours. Then she kissed you with a foreign gentleness that you were not used to during a heated moment such as this. You were used to hot, incendiary sex - not to say that you were complaining because you were honestly loving this new side to lust that Wanda showed you - not this slow one where you were able to take a breath between intense orgasms.

"You're so pretty, Mommy." You murmured against her lips, quiet and soft in the semi-silent night blanketing your escapades with Wanda. In the dim moonlight, you could swear you saw the way a blush red shade crept up Wanda's cheeks. Honestly, there was nothing better to do than bring her closer to you once more for another kiss before she pulled away again, her warm breath fanning over your face as she did so.

"Thank ya, darlin', and call me Wanda." She smirked, her hand making its way to your hands while you nodded at her slowly. Wanda grabbed both of your hands in one of hers and held them above your head on the tree you were propped up against. "Im'na make ya cum like this one more time, then I'll take ya to m'ship. Is that alright h'ney?" 

"Yes, please." I just want you now, you thought, feeling the way your pussy clenched around nothing. Wanda scoffed a chuckle at you, lopsidedly grinning at you as two of her fingers easily entered your small hole. Then just like earlier, her finger drilled in and out of you, curling every so often to match her quick thrusts. You gasped and moaned, writhing and shaking, fists tightly clenching in Wanda's hold as the sinful skill of her fingers strived to take you entirely without leaving anything behind. 

Your cum was sticky, drenching everything within your range, including the ground, the inside of  your thighs, Wanda's hands, and her thighs. You thought she would top once you came in the slightest, but no. She proved you wrong, continuing to fuck you with her fingers relentlessly until you were screaming into the night sky. Wanda gave you a sickening smile as the two of you made eye contact, only then pulling out of you in a show of mercy. 

Wanda's fingers left you with a squelching pop, little squirts of your cum still occasionally spurting out of you due to the convulsions Wanda has caused you to have. The fingers Wanda used on you hovered over your mouth, your body making a move before you could even gather your bearings. The warmth of your mouth enveloped Wanda's deft fingers, sucking your own sweet arousal clean off of them before letting them go and leaning your head back as exhausted pants left your mouth. 

**** 

Let's just say Wanda really did take you to her big ship. You were even limping the whole way there before Wanda eventually decided that she carry you instead for efficiency. When the two of you got there, your canoodling fervently continued, heated but soft, rough but gentle. It overwhelmed you in all the best ways possible. 

You couldn't really describe it. All you knew was that you felt too good to even be alive. You swore in your mind that Wanda could probably kill you with her fingers given how talented they were and how good she was at using them. Let's not even get you started on her tongue. Boy that muscle really felt like some sort of thick drill with how powerful it felt inside of you. Her tongue reached inside of you the parts that you didn't even know existed, and it felt so damn good that it brought tears down you face and snot coming out of your nose. Disgusting. You couldn't get enough of it. It almost made you want to have her for breakfast.

Almost.

But right now, you can't think about that. What was important at this moment was the fact that you were being fucked from the back like a common village whore, bent over a table near a couch- you couldn't grasp why you couldn't just do it on the couch. Funny, Wanda had called you a slut earlier on. You loved it. You got so wet because of it.

If you were a slut, you were a slut for her.

"Wanda!" You cried out when her fingers played with your clit, rubbing at it tightly all the while she  fucked you relentlessly. Wanda grabbed a fistful of your hair and maneuvered you over to the couch. Fuck, you thought as the feeling of your high coming close again, your tears mixed with sweat pouring down your face like rainwater.

You were all but exhausted. You wanted more, and almost as if Wanda could read your mind, she gave you more by way of pulling your hips back against her harsh thrust, reaching even more of you. It almost seemed like she was trying to get in your stomach from down there. And so suddenly, with a loud scream came your sweet cum jetting out of you.

It surprised the both of you when it happened. That's not to say that you've never squitted before though - you have, many times -, but having Wanda make you do that felt different. It felt sinful, so hellish, and so ungodly. It felt right and so, so good. Wanda groaned behind you, somehow still being able to push in and pull out of you rather quickly despite how knowingly tight you were squeezing her very large cock. 

"This pussy is mine," Wanda said, pairing it with a hard thrust, making you squeal like a fucking baby. How pathetic of you. "I'ma make ya cum again, baby." That she did. And so many times too. Your face was thoroughly drenched in your tears by the end of it, begging Wanda to at least give you a ten-minute break if she still wanted to continue. She told you that the two of you had better get some rest for come morning time she would be taking you with her. Her exact words were, "I need to have ya."

And so have you she did. When her crew found out about you that same day, they called you out on your species. A shapeshifting siren, the unconcealed gills and scales on your neck being a dead giveaway of such fact. At first, you were scared of what they would do because your kind wasn't exactly well-liked. It helped a lot when you realized Wanda hadn't let go of your hand yet. When you looked up at Wanda, at that time, you really hoped that the genuineness in your eyes would reach her.

Wanda couldn't really resist it, not when she was staring into your eyes and seeing a million untold stories of good and bad. She could tell that there was more to you than just being a siren. Truth be told, Wanda had always wanted to see a siren- or at least, hear a siren song- so having you here right now surely wasn't a problem, right? 

In such little time from when the two of you started fucking and that morning, Wanda had grown to trust you somehow, which was strange given she was a sailor who dealt with stupid pirates trying to steal her riches. Knowing you were a siren would definitely change things, like right now with the two of you on the shoreline having, guess what? More sex.

"Oh, I'm yours, I'm yours!" Wanda pulled on the braids she did with your hair while humping you. She grunted and tugged on your hair, leaning closer to your ear to growl into it.

"Louder, baby, louder." As she ordered, you obeyed, moaning louder for her without much effort considering she was giving you everything you could ever ask for. No man or woman you've attracted to you before has ever made you feel like this. none of them stood a chance against Wanda's sharp and hasty thrusts into your dirty pussy. 

For the final time that day, you came with a scream, your whole body shuddering and shivering against Wanda as she held you close to her for warmth and comfort. Your eyes had disappeared into the back of your head, your jaw hanging open as your breath stabilized itself. Wanda cooed into your ear, heaving you into her arms and carrying you back into her ship all covered in sand- not that it mattered to her much. 

Wanda treated you well and fucked you well, and that was enough reason for you to stay with her as you found yourself growing more fond of her day by day. 

[kaizokuniichan]

Something Light for Law’s Birthday

Summary: I don’t know what this is. I don’t know why this is. This isn’t compliant with Attention but it could be? Don’t question any canon-compliance either, it makes absolutely no sense but it’s fun (to me)

You and Zoro force Law to come join you to celebrate his birthday.

Pairing: none really…it might be a lil something if you squint. GN!Reader.

Word Count: 950+

Warnings: alcohol consumption.

(Divider by @/cafekitsune)

“Come on man, you gotta loosen up.”

Law’s eyes were downcast, scowl deepening as he crossed his arms.

“I’m loose enough Zoro-ya.”

“Come on Law. One puff of a badly-concealed joint every six months is not what I would call “loosening up,” you nudged, knocking your hip into his. Eyes bulged as the preparation of a denial sat on the tip of his tongue.

“Law it’s your birthday, please just have a drink with us.”

Your feigned puppy dog eyes were your most abused weapon in your arsenal, and yet their impact was just as effective every time.

Zoro snorted as Law’s body went limp, allowing you to drag him towards the thunderous din of the pub.

“Stop trying to fight it Torao, you know it’s inevitable. Just let it happen.”

Placing his hands on stiff shoulders, you and Zoro worked in tandem to push and pull the grumbling man through the saloon-like doors.

The pub was loud, filled to the brim with a jubilant energy that wove it’s way throughout the staggering bodies. Everything in Law’s being wanted to reject the place, but he’d unfortunately fallen victim to the loathsome combination of your emotional blackmail and Zoro’s aggressive strong-arming.

Finding a place to settle was far too easy when you had two notorious pirates, toting bounties well into the hundred millions, at your side. Various grizzled patrons scattered like pests escaping fluorescents, and within seconds a worn-down booth tucked away in a darkened corner appeared—slightly obscured and just cozy enough for the three of you to squeeze into.

As you and Law sunk into the ripped cushions, Zoro tugged on the collar of a passing bar man, swiping the four tankards of ale sloshing about on the tray. Taking a seat on the other side of Law, he passed you each a pint, keeping the remaining two for himself.

“Zoro, stop being stingy and give me half of that extra one.”

“I’m the one that got these for us, you want another one, go get it yourself.”

“All you did was make that poor guy’s job harder by stealing someone else’s. What you should’ve done was get us some shots, we’re supposed to be celebrating his birthday. Do it properly.”

“Oi!”

You and Zoro—having leaned over Law’s body to fuss at each other—switched your attention back to the guest of honor, whose temples throbbed with irritation.

“You two have stolen me away from my crew and dragged me to this dump to celebrate my shitty birthday. Shut up and cheers my drink so we can leave.”

Your eyes ping-ponged between Zoro and Law’s, taking hold of your tankard and raising it in front of you.

“Alright Captain grump, come lend me your ear.”

Mildly perplexed and begrudgingly amused, he followed your lead. Zoro snickered beside him, stealing a few gulps of his ale.

“Trafalgar Law, you are one of the most irritable, emotionally-constipated, uptight men I’ve ever met.”

He sighed. “Is this really what you dragged me out here for?”

“But-“ you continued, “you are also one of the most thoughtful, insightful, and kindest people I’ve ever had the privilege of knowing. Not to mention, you’re a total smoke show.”

“And ‘with cool tattoos’” Zoro mocked, slapping Law on the back as the other man choked on his drink.

“And with cool tattoos. Law, you’re a better person than you give yourself credit for, and I hope you know how much you mean to people. You deserve to be celebrated, okay?”

“Hm.”

Catching Zoro’s eye again, you leaned in close to rest you chin on his shoulder. Zoro mirrored you on his other side.

“I said,” you hissed through gritted teeth,” you deserve to be celebrated. Say it back.”

“Say it back Law,” Zoro parroted.

If he really wanted to, he could warp himself away from your clutches and back onto the pier where his sub was docked, sinking back into the ocean’s depths. He could easily make an escape despite the weight of your threatening eyes and Zoro’s grip holding him in place. He really, really could.

“I…deserve to be celebrated,” he muttered with a resigned sigh. You blinked, a satisfied smile painting your lips.

“I can’t believe you got him to actually say it,” Zoro guffawed as he wrapped an arm around his neck. Law balked as he was jostled, drink splashing onto his jeans.

“I know, I didn’t think I’d have this much influence over him. I’m glad you’ve began your self-love journey Law.”

He slapped your hand away before you could pinch his cheek, shaking his mug in his other hand.

“Alright, I listened to your senseless babble. Fucking cheers me now.

With a chirping laugh you each took your mugs, raising them into the air.

“Happy Birthday Law!” you hooted, clinking his mug and taking a sip.

“Happy Birthday Torao,” Zoro grunted, tapping his mug and downing the rest.

Law sat still with his arm outstretched, a small smile etching his face. Without another word he chugged his nearly full mug, reaching for the second stolen tankard on Zoro’s side and draining that too. You sat with your mouth agape, eyes fixed on the space where the two empty mugs should have been, now replaced with a tray of short glasses filled with an amber liquid.

“Close your mouths and come grab a shot. We’re supposed to be celebrating me, aren’t we?”

Further invading his space, you and Zoro reached over and took a glass.

“I hope you don’t think that just because it’s your birthday you can hang with the big boys. You better pace yourself, we got a long night ahead of us!”

[petrichorium]

heyo pluvi it's nyla on her main account that is honestly just a side acc at this point gjdfngkjfn but here's a fun thought, imagine you're a big mom pirate and one of her children- what are you mixed with and do yourself pulling a lola and dipping or toughing it out? how do you see yourself somehow running into shanks with this crucial lore change?

Omg………. I will get sooooo self-indulgent and insane w this actually (and likely get walloped w canon in a few days but hey before then we can do what we want) and say perhaps…….. mayhaps……….. an arranged marriage situation………

so likeeeeee i kinda. love the idea of me being an initial attempt at a member of the three-eyed tribe like pudding, bc i need a way to i would love to say im a badass rebel child w my own crew but Alas i think i am. quiet and awkward and nonathletic n mama kinda hates me rip. but she'd have a reason to wanna keep me around despite all that if i have the potential to read poneglyphs and that’d be a role i could play for shanks too yk. and my self-insert is 27 yrs older than pudding which nicely matches up to a potential me running away w shanks when hes like 22 and im like 26!!!

soooooo this all would go down when hes still gathering up his crew yk.......... mama obvi knows him as roger's apprentice but i think he kinda approaches her first to scope out her kids n see if any r worthy/possible to be poached LOLLLLLL and then almost like. out of amusement goes along w the marriage she decides to arrange. it is Not a situation like sanji ftr its a situation like bege, where she intends to have shanks as a subordinate captain through marriage.......

idk i think hes just curious when she proposes it. not exactly concerned—def a bit Overly Confident for a 22 yr old apprentice-turned-rookie potentially going up against an emperor PFFT—but again just like. amused by the situation. and w a piqued interest when he meets me, similarly to selfship canon ig!!!! i think im more timid n less self-assured in this scenario (a combo of being five yrs younger, raised by big mom, and generally the situation being entirely different) and honestly give off the vibe of being a bit uncomfortable around him. i think hes actually rlly put off by the idea of big mom forcing her daughter to marry a pirate even tho im clearly not cool w it; ofc hes not like. surprised i think he knows big mom p well but it Rlly rubs him the wrong way. suddenly hes not so amused anymore.

shanks is a serial princess rescuer in canon, even fifteen yrs earlier i think he's got those instincts already so there's a bit of a white knight instinct that i end up triggering in him. n when we finally get a moment alone (which in my head is a lil nighttime walk back to my room very romantic) he rlly does ask for my feelings and possibly straight-up offer to help me leave n it. pisses me off LMFAOOOOO i might even slap him in the face perhaps just for the audacity of it all bc like bro what!!!! whats the plan here u just wanna piss off an emperor for shits n giggles n a pretty face??? i think i reveal the eye here too, which is ofc considered an Ugly Feature in one piece canon so im intending to shock him out of whatever insanity has overcome him but also is smthn shanks absolutely understands the implications of..........

(he thinks its Very Striking for the record)

I think he does manage to convince me to run off w him before the wedding…….. he’s Very Persistent abt it n by the third or fourth time I’m convinced he has ulterior motives but as it encroaches I kinda come to the conclusion that if I refuse I’ll end up married to him anyway so perhaps better to keep my options open??? So we sneak off the night before w. Largely not a ton of pushback. Maybe shanks has a lil spat w katakuri that’d be fun 🫣 in my head this would be before tottoland is established so it’s a matter of sneaking off the queen mama chanter not. An archipelago yk……… n e way.

We have a lil slowburn after that 🥺 a lot of me swearing up and down I’ll leave at the next island and shanks insisting this isn’t the right one and next thing I know I’ve been w him for five yrs and I’m sleeping in his cabin and we kiss a lot. Actually the fun part abt this au is I’d be around for baby luffy which is very fun to me (tragic that I don’t meet him in selfship canon 💔) maybe he’s the reason we officially get together bc he’s Too Honest LOL idk. But there u go!!!

[galaxycunt]

I Can’t Keep Crying pt 3

Pt 1 Pt 2

Quick lil note to say I love every comment I been getting on my stuff and ilysm kissing u all mwah mwah it really makes my day

Story under the cut: angst only rn

You shared a cigarette on the deck with a crew mate, watching Buggy from afar. Sometimes if it was cold, he used to lend you the coat he was wearing right now. What a fool he made you out to be.

”Captain’s let his bird fly out the cage finally?”

”Oh, shut the fuck up.”

He only laughed, “Cabaji gets his sloppy seconds, you could do worse.”

You flicked the butt in his face, storming off below the deck. Before all this, Buggy was teaching you how to throw knives. You decided it was perfect time to imagine the empty barrel was his face.

You could think of a hundred reasons for why Buggy was bad for you, but the good times popped up. His laugh, the real one he seemed to save just for you. The way he’d protect you during a raid, shoving you downstairs in a hurry yelling at you to hide. Letting you watch his shows from the catwalk, his eyes shining brightly in the spotlight as he looked up at you.

It wasn’t romantic for most people, but things were different on the sea. After a raid on a village, he kept a small box close with him. He hid away from the crew, only coming out when you said you didn’t want to eat dinner alone. He had his moods, he was soft around you. He never told you what was in there, only his mood giving a hint to what it was. Closer than what anyone else got.

”Needs work, thank god you’re not my first wave of defense,” said a voice behind you.

”Is there more to be done, captain?”

He smiled, “nah. Just wanted to see what you were up to.”

You looked him up and down, “nice necklace.”

”Eh, gonna hock it next time we dock somewhere. Can’t figure out what put in it anyway.”

You forced a smile, “I thought even pirates loved their mama.”

“Now that’s funny.”

You nodded politely, turning to leave. Buggy stopped you, his brows furrowed like he was struggling what to say.

“I didn’t…know that..well, I don’t have to really explain myself do I?”

”Excuse me?”

”Lemme make it up to you, steal a table at Baratie, dine and dash. Something fun and exciting!”

”What? No, I’m not doing that.”

He frowned, “aw come on, you’re not turning legit now, are you?”

You smiled, “I’m not doing that with you.”

Hurt flashed across his face for only a moment, “you did it first you know.”

This confused you, having no idea what he was talking about. You sized up your captain, he was a stubborn bastard.

“I don’t know what you’re referring to, so I doubt it.”

”Go clean the head.”

”You’re seriously giving me cabin boy duty?”

He nodded, causing you to groan. He smiled satisfied, he was going to make you regret sleeping with the boss. If that was how he was going to act, you were going to make him regret it too. Cabin boy was easy to pay off for shit duty.

”I’m sure there’s a way to convince your captain differently, if you wanted to be persuasive.”

Buggy stepped closer, bumping into your chest. His breath smelled of whiskey, his aura pulling you closer. It was like that when you joined his crew, amused instead of angry that you tried stealing from him. Buggy had a way with people, making them stay. You knew better.

”You don’t like me Buggy, simple as that. You made it clear more than once.”

He was at a loss for words, letting you walk away as he stood there. You held in your tears until you reached your room. The worst part about being on a ship was the lack of privacy. In your dreams, Buggy would proudly proclaim his love for you, in front of the whole world. Instead of letting you hover around him, the crew would judge you, yet you didn’t get special treatment when it came to chores.

He did give you his cabin to be alone in, and that was something you wished you had now. You cried softly, face down in your pillow. What did he mean earlier? What did you do first?

You heard your name called, ignoring it.

“You okay?”

It was your friend, petting your head softly. You gave a thumbs up, rubbing your face like nothing happened. She smiled, giving you the mug of coffee in her hand. The ship was set to sail for a small village, peaceful and full of gold. You chatted about the show, what your friend had planned.

“So what’s your plan?”

”I’ll probably still run the lights and curtains.”

”No, about him.”

You sighed, “he’s a grown ass man, he won’t apologize and I’m not gonna coddle him. We’re pirates for fuck’s sake.”

Surprisingly, Buggy still allowed you to run the lights. In the middle of the ring was the mayor, bound and gagged as Buggy made his grand entrance. He was nicer when the show ran smoothly, a little more willing to let people live.

And your mother had much bigger plans for you and your life.

Buggy glanced up at you, winking as he tortured the mayor for the key to the bank vault. He was still very handsome, sexy when he exerted his power over others. The gasps from the audience reminded you of the first time you saw his powers, it was intoxicating.

You used this opportunity to sneak away, heading towards his cabin. You weren’t sure what you wanted to find, his room was messy as always. You had some clothes left behind, deciding to take a pile. You searched around for your locket, not remembering if he kept it on today. The accordion was still in its case, you took that one too. If he was going to punish you for stealing your own things, so be it.

Realizing you never had the whole ship to yourself, you pushed your luck, snooping in his personal items. Sealed letters from someone, the name sounding familiar. Under a pile of scarves was a small box, you wondered if the locket was inside. Were you still willing to steal that damn thing from him?

You decided against it, running to your room and back to the tent before anyone noticed. You stood in the back, watching the show. The crew was probably going to stay here another couple of days, Buggy loved his adoring fans. You could escape if your luck ran out.

The show ended, Buggy noticing you near the entrance, he smiled and let you go on your way with the rest of the crew to drink. His words entered your mind again, what imagined transgression against him was he thinking of?

The crew liked putting on a small show for themselves, your friend waving as she flipped through the air. You’d miss this crew if you had to leave, Buggy couldn’t ruin this for you. You smiled, hoping to let this whole thing blow over.

You heard your name bellowed out from across the tent, Buggy marching straight toward you. The rest of the crew adverted their eyes, he was on a warpath.

You stood up straight, “yes, sir?”

”You were in my cabin. What did you take? Treasure? A map? Money?”

“My clothes. I had clothes there,” you stuttered.

He glanced around the room, “my cabin. Now.”

You nodded as you’re hurried past the crowd, embarrassed and slightly afraid. Thankful he wasn’t about to air out your relationship failures in the open. It didn’t mean anything good either way.

Buggy spun around as soon as the door closed, angry to the brim.

”You stole from me.”

”I…didn’t.”

”Yes, you did.”

”The accordion? I only took my things back.”

He waved around his room, “oh! Is that all? Nothing else? Nothing in that desk?”

You shook your head, of course he’d find out. You didn’t take anything, your only saving grace.

”I was looking for my locket,” you held up your hands, “I’m not stupid, Buggy. I only take what’s mine.”

He searched your face, the wind blowing out of his sails, he believed you.

With a laugh he shook his head, “you’re gonna be the death of me. Swear to god.”

With a nervous smile, you tried to leave. He still stopped you, lightly grabbing your arm. His eyes were filled with an emotion you couldn’t place, unsure if he could either.

“I would like to hear a song, if you’re willing to grant an audience. That’s how I’ll forgive you.”

You smile, “I’ll be right back then.”

The words slipped out so easily, the way your body moved too. You played in your youth, something you did to pass the time on long voyages. On your last ship, it was lost in the wreck. You couldn’t find a reason to get it replaced, feeling like you had no need to. You only told him about it once, in an inn months ago while you bathed together. He liked your singing, not surprised that you always been some sort of artist your whole life.

That day was when you realized you were in love with him.

“Captain?”

”Come in, I was just uh, setting the mood, I guess.”

The cabin was dimly lit, a sheer red scarf placed over a lamp. He held up his hands, motioning you to sit on his chair. You giggled, covering up your nerves.

“Any requests, captain?”

”Oh you can call me Buggy, and uh. I dunno, dealer’s choice.”

You could only remember a song partially, singing a song of a woman left at the altar on her wedding day. The notes were fumbled, your foot tapping next to his, he hummed along not knowing the lyrics.

You had a good time despite yourself, smiling as you made up a song on the spot. You could remember simple chords, singing about the woman from the previous song taking to the sea to cut her fiancé’s head off. Buggy laughed hard at that one.

“Beautiful!”

You smiled, “thanks, Bug.”

You got up to leave, Buggy stopping you again. He held his breath, thinking of something to say.

”You don’t have to leave so soon do you?”

He looked so sad, so lonely. You were certain it had to be projection on your part. He held out a hand, letting you place your fingers gently on his palm. You were in love with an image, one he displayed in full before you. You had doubts, and that was reason enough to leave.

”I can’t. I really can’t.”

He only nodded, letting you take your things with you. As you closed the door you hear him release a shuddering breath, matching the sob you were holding in yourself.

[hannahhook7744]

Ghost, What's Your Name?;

Summary: Ghost Hannah Hook starts causing mischief at Auradon Prep. Giving Auradon a hard wake up call. Trigger warnings: past child abuse and child death, allergic reactions, fainting, murder, minor violence, swearing, etc. LMK if I need to add to the list.

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

Rating:

Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning:

Major Character Death

Categories:

F/M

Gen

Fandoms:

Descendants (Disney Movies)

The Isle of the Lost Series - Melissa de la Cruz

Relationships:

Minor Doug/Evie (Disney: Descendants) - Relationship

Minor Ben/Mal (Disney: Descendants) - Relationship

Past Ben/Audrey Rose (Disney: Descendants) - Relationship

Minor or Background Relationship(s)

Characters:

Jenkins (Disney: Descendants)

Tourney Team (Disney: Descendants)

Auradon Prep Staff (Disney: Descendants)

Original Children of James Hook

Additional Tags:

Ghosts

Alternate Universe - Ghosts

pirate kids

Major Original Character(s)

Past Child Abuse

Past Child Death

Haunting

Pranks and Practical Jokes

Child Ghosts

Isle of the Lost is a Terrible Place (Disney)

United States of Auradon is Not Perfect (Disney)

Auradon Prep (Disney)

Swearing

Vandalism

Judge Claude Frollo Being Terrible (Disney)

Language: English. Series: ← Previous Work Part 3 of Ghost Hannah Hook.

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

The Dragon Cannon went off. 

Which was weird, because Taylor (Tarzan’s son and their Dragoneer) wasn't anywhere near it. Nor was Herkie (Meg and Hercules's son), who was the reserve Dragoneer. In fact, none of the players were near the thing because the team was having a water and snack break. 

Coach Jenkins squinted at the Cannon. “Did someone set that off?”

“It shouldn't be on.” Genie—who, along with Li Shang Jr, was one of the assistant coaches—frowned. “Nobody's near it… unless Taylor forgot to turn it off.”

“I didn’t!” Taylor insisted. “I turned it off, I swear!”

“Did any of you go near it?” Lil’ Shang asked, crossing his arms—trying not to grin or laugh, even though he was sorely tempted. 

There was a chorus of no coach from the group..

Suddenly, a large cold gust of wind hit them—which was more than a little unusual considering that it was nearly 80°F out—and an eerie childish giggle rang out from around them. 

“ Nope.” Emir (Aladdin and Jasmine's younger son) dropped his stick and started to walk off the field with his brother, Aziz.

Miguel (Isabella Madrigal and Bubo Marquez's son) just looked amused. “Is some little kid playing a prank on us?”

Jay groaned and stood up. Cupping his hands over his mouth. “HOOK! KNOCK IT OFF!”

William Darling (Wendy and Edward's middle child) whirled around. “Hook? Hook who?”

The eerie giggle turned into a full on gleeful laugh—a laugh that sounded like it belonged to a child far too young to be anywhere near Auradon Prep.

“Yeah, I’m with Emir and Z. Fuck this shit, I’m out!” Tyrone (Naveen and Tiana's son) held up his hands in surrender, walking off the field after Emir and Aziz.

“I'm out too!” Brendan (Charlotte La Bouff and Lars Westergaard's son) yelped, quickly running after his god brother.

Carlos sighed. “Guys, don't worry. Hannah's harmless—”

“I SAID, HOOK WHOMST?!” William yelped, swearing he felt someone tap his shoulder.

Jay roller his eyes, using his stick to pock at the space behind William. “Back, Hook! Go bother Evie.”

Carlos, on the other hand, just decided to take pity on their teammates and coaches. “Hannah Hook. Captain Hook’s youngest daughter.” 

William paled. “Shit, shit, shit. NOT TODAY SATAN!”

“Dude calm down, she's seven.” Jay rolled his eyes. “She's just bored. She's not gonna hurt anyone.”

Coach Jenkins, who had been watching the whole encounter amusedly, now decided to step in. “Jay, Carlos. I appreciate your good humor, but you’re clearly scaring your teammates. Let’s turn the noises off, now.”

The boys just gave him blank looks—neither looking amused with the situation. Just bored and, dare he even say, annoyed. 

It hit him then that they weren't joking.

“Oh, so I was right. It is just some kid.” Miguel mused, completely unphased.

“So…more Hooks escaped the Isle, then?” Jenkins rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“Nope.” Jay said, popping the ‘p’ before plopping back down on the bench. 

“You guys aren't making any sense.” Herkie groaned, head in hands. 

“She's a ghost , Herkie. She's been with us in Auradon since we came here.” Carlos rolled his eyes, starting to get frustrated.

“Ghosts aren’t real.” Aiko (son of Tomiko) scowled.

“Tell that to my mama!” Tyrone yelled from beyond the field.

Suddenly, one of the bottles of water lifted into the air and was emptied on Aiko.  The laughter turning into full on cackling.

Jay swatted at the air where the bottle stood, causing it to be thrown at him. Along with the rest of it's contents. He glared at the spot where the ‘ghost’ was. “ Was that really necessary?” 

Aiko glared at Jay, whipping water from his eyes. “How did you do that, VK? Magic?”

“Jay doesn't have magic.” Carlos reminded, exasperated. 

All while Hannah kept laughing. 

The wind picking up. 

Coach Jenkins looked around, fully believing that the Hook child was hidden away in a tree somewhere. “Now, listen! I’m all for fun and games, but this prank has gone on far enough, young lady!”

The laughter stopped. 

And the eerie giggled turned into an eerie, small voice. “Sorry….”

William screamed, running off of the field while flailing his arms.

“Look at him go!” Miguel shielded his eyes from the sun with his hand.

Jenkins was about to ask the Fairy Godmother for a raise. “Can we go back to practice now, or are you all too scared of a second grader to play the damn game?”

The team all muttered except for Carlos and Jay who just said “finally!”

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

Hannah wandered through the class rooms, staying invisible to the naked eye. 

Once again bored.

Eventually deciding to mess around in the chemistry lab. 

Juggling vials and giggling.

Evie walked in, wanting to be early for class, and groaned. “ Hannah! Don’t you have anything better to do?!”

Hannah jumped, nearly dropping the vials. And, instead of just talking directly to the princess, she decided to write ‘NO’ on the chalkboard. Just as other students and Mr. Deley walked in. 

Mr. Deley, who already had Evie on his shit list, saw the ‘no’ written on the chalkboard, and a red-faced Evie, and connected the two dots. “Miss. Evie. Care to explain this?”

Hannah giggled. 

Mr. Deley didn’t seem to hear the giggle, but Doug did. His face furrowed in confusion as he looked around.

Hannah lit up as she noticed him and appeared next to him. Beaming at him. “Are yous Evie’s boyfriend ?”

Doug shrieked, almost slamming into the person behind him. 

He wasn't the only kid to scream and jump at the sudden appearance of the little GLITCHING girl.

Poor Tyrone, who happened to be in that class, ran out of the room, screaming “The Other Side!!!!”

Hannah giggling, biting her thumb. “Don't worry! I don't have cooties or scurvy!”

Mr. Deley squinted at Hannah. Then his eyes went wide. “Great Scott…” He collapsed, smacking his face on the floor.

Hannah's laughter could be heard echoing throughout the school.

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

Lonnie had developed somewhat of a night baking habit.

Ever since she caught the VKs making love spell cookies in the middle of the night, she’d realized how nice and quiet the kitchens were at night.

So she’d started sneaking in to make her cookies. Sue her.

….it also made her feel less homesick, too, if she was being honest.

She’d just finished a batch, and left them on the counter to cool off while she grabbed a glass of milk.

When she turned around, three of her chocolate chip-green tea cookies were gone. She's only been away from them for an actual minute, if even that!

“What the fuck.” She said aloud to the empty room.

A loud creepy giggle echoed around the room. 

“...ancestors?” She couldn’t help but ask. Though, why her ancestors would c hoose to show themselves while she was sneak baking cookies in the middle of the night, she didn’t know.

“What's an a-an-cest-er?”

“Gah!” Lonnie jumped, holding up her hands in a defensive position. “Who– what are you?”

“...Hannah.” The voice replied, sounding confused.

Lonnie cocked her head. “Hannah who? Why are you invisible?”

“Hannah Hook! And cause I’s dead! Who are you?”

“...I’m Li Lan-Lei. But you can call me Lonnie.” Was she actually talking to a ghost?

“That's a pretty name!” Hannah complimented, giggling—probably at whatever funny looking expression was currently on Lonnie's face. 

“Thanks?” Lonnie cleared her throat. “Uh, how did you, you know…die, anyway?” Wasn’t that what you were supposed to ask ghosts?

“Frollo!” The lights flickered at her raised voice. “Anyway how old are you?”

Lonnie blanched. Frollo, as in, Judge Claude Frollo, who terrorized Quincy, Emile, and Zephyr’s parents? “Um…I’m sixteen. How old are you?”

“I'm seven!”

“You died at seven?” Oh, joy. Lonnie was gonna cry in front of a ghost. “That’s so sad. I’m sorry.”

“It's okay! I saveded my friend and his sissy!”

“From Frollo?” She managed to compose herself enough to ask.

“Uh huh!” Hannah replied, sounding like she was chewing on something. Probably one of her missing cookies.

“Do you, uh…like the cookies?”

“Uh huh! I likes chocolate!”

“Me too!” Despite the fact that this whole situation was completely insane, Lonnie was starting to get along well with the ghost of Hannah Hook.

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

“Help! Help!”

Doug heard the calls for help and went running towards the sound. “Hello? Who’s calling?!”

“Over here! Help!”

He kept running, following the oddly child-like voice.

“Here! Here!”

Doug rounded a corner, and saw Chad on the ground, writhing. 

“Oh, shit!” Dough cussed as he ran over. He felt around Chad’s clothes, looking for the epipen he always carried around. “Come on, come on, come on! Where is that damn thing?!”

“His backpack!”

Not bothering to look where the random ass child voice was coming from, Doug dove for Chad’s bag, and snagged the epipen. He uncapped it with his teeth, and jammed the end down into Chad’s thigh as hard as he possibly could.

Chad went lax, choking ever so slowly turning to wheezing and mild coughing. But thanks to his uncle, Doug knew that he needed to still get him to the nurse and call an ambulance.

He dialed Doc’s son quick, making sure that Chad’s head didn’t loll too much. “Raph, it’s me! Medical emergency in the south side of the school! Get the nurse and call A113, asap!” 

He tapped Chad’s cheek. “Dude, what did you eat?!”

“He ate that thingy on the table!”

Now that Chad was out of immediate danger and help was on the way, Doug looked around for the source of the child voice. But found no one and nothing.“Who said that?!”

“I did!” The voice said, beside him this time—right as he was poked with something. A crinkle of a wrapper could be heard. 

Doug jumped back. “Wait–are you that ghost from the chemistry lab?”

“...maybe?”

“What do you mean maybe?!” 

“If I'm in trouble, then no. If I'm not, yes. Is he dead?”

“No, he’s not dead!” He sputtered. “And—how are you a ghost?!”

“Frollo. Also he ates this!” The ghost poked him with—a candy bar?

“Wha–?” Doug took the candy bar and skimmed the ingredients. “Dude!” He looked at Chad, who wasn’t super conscious. “The first ingredient in this thing is honey!”

Which, along with feathers, Chad was extremely allergic to. 

The blonde just squinted at him, trying and failing to say something but being unable to do to the swelling of his lips and his inability to form/get the words out at the moment. 

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

Ben had been spelled. 

Ben had been spelled. 

Ben had been spelled. 

And now everyone knew, but no one , including BEN cared. 

No but Audrey, who'd been humiliated in front of two whole schools when her boyfriend had sung a love song to another girl . The girl who'd spelled him and wasn't getting any consequences and who was even telling jokes about it. 

Which was why she found herself sobbing her heart out in the girl’s locker room, while all her fellow cheerleaders were at practice. Her fellow cheerleaders who'd smiled and clapped and laughed while her boyfriend sung to another girl, like everyone else had.  

Something brushed against her cheek. 

Her eyes shot open. 

“H-hello?” Her voice was throaty, and she coughed a few times to clear her throat.

Something poked her cheek again. Something… soft. 

It was a crumpled (but thankfully clean ) tissue. Floating. In midair.

Audrey yelped, scrambling away from the floating object.

“I’m sorry. I didn't means to scares you.”

“Who–what—why–” Audrey stammered, freaked out, sure, but mostly embarrassed that she hadn’t been crying alone after all.

“Are you okay?”

“Are you–are you invisible?” She waved her hand around in the air, trying to find whoever was doing this. “This isn’t funny! You’ll–you’ll be in trouble for pranking me like this!”

“I'm not prankin’ you!” The lights flickered slightly. “I just… you soundeds so sads.”

The lights stopped flickering. “But… I'll go aways if ya wants me to.”

“Wait!” Audrey hadn’t the slightest idea why she called out to this…entity. Maybe it was because this was the first time in a while she didn’t feel so heart-breakenly alone . “Don’t go.”

“I'm sorry about what happened.”

She sniffed. “How do you even know what happened?”

“I heard people talkin’ about it. And I saw what happened.” The voice was becoming clearer—and the more it spoke, the more apparent it became that the voice was a child. “I'm sorry. If I'd known what Mal was gonna do I'd have stopped it. You didn't deserves that.”

At that, Audrey promptly burst into tears again. “Y-y-you’re the only person who’s said that to me! Everybody is on Mal’s s-side, even though she spelled Ben!”

“Do you want a hug? You look like you could use one.”

Audrey had no idea who this weird invisible child was, but honestly? She didn’t really care. “Yeah, sure.” She held out her arms kind of awkwardly, not being able to see her. But she could still feel it. 

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

Merryweather was grading her students' papers, rather angrily. Her class, Life Skills Without Magic, was a required course for all magical pupils, which meant that she had a lot of…unwilling participants in her midst. The papers got worse and worse as she graded.

Screeeeeeeeeech. 

She lifted her head up sharply. Someone was writing on her chalkboard. She pushed her seat out, and angrily stomped out of her office. “WHO, I say, WHO IS IN THERE?!”

A piece of red chalk was floating by the chalkboard—which now read ‘Say sorry to Audrey, Maleficent Bertha Fae-Athanasiou II!’

Merryweather paused. Because, well…she agreed with the writing. Audrey was her niece, after all.

But still. Using magic? On the Life Skills Without Magic teacher? Too far.

Also, it was a little disturbing that whoever was doing this knew when exactly Mal would be having her class. 

“Very funny, you little miscreant!” She snapped. “I won’t be reporting this to Fairy Godmother, just because you’re friends with Audrey. But if you pull a stunt like this again, I won’t hesitate, witch!”

The chalk dropped to the floor and the sound of tiny feet running could be heard as the door to her classroom flung open and then shut again. 

What was a child doing at Auradon Prep and how did they know enough magic to turn themselves invisible?

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

“Tinkerbell flew into a wall, 

Tinkerbell had a great fall!”

The fairy in question heard this nursery rhyme, coming from nowhere, and turned bright red in anger. “Who is that?! How dare you?!”

The singing stopped briefly as the singer took a break to giggle. Before it started up again. 

“Tinkerbell got caught in a trap, 

Tinkerbell is full of crap!”

“Stop that!” Tink demanded and stood up from her desk. “Who is doing that?! I will send you to the headmistress’s office and have you expelled!”

The singer snickered and a loud thud rang out across the room. As if someone was jumping up and down. 

“Tinkerbell can't sing,

Tinkerbell’s lost her wing’s!

Tinkerbell got hooked, 

Tinkerbell's cooked!”

In a rage, Tink stamped her foot. “Who’s spawn are you, huh?! I’ll make sure your parents know about this!”

The only response was a loud, almost never ending laugh.

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

The pink curtains in the Acapella Music Classroom had been swapped with blue ones. 

Flora tried to breathe in through her nose. Calm, happy thoughts. “Merryweather…”

Before the fairy could say anything else, her pink chair turned blue. 

She whirled around. “Merryweather! I thought you were done with all this magic nonsense!”

The desks turned blue. 

“MERRYWEATHER!”

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

Hannah went on to annoy every single staff member she came across. 

Mostly out of boredom, rather than malice. Mostly.

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

The class’s eyes widened, staring at something behind her as Fauna droned on about Zarina—the subject of this Bad Fairies lesson. 

“What are you children looking at?” Fauna put her hands on her hips, not liking the idea that her students weren’t paying attention to her.

One of them pointed at the whiteboard, mouth agape. Looking white as a sheet. 

Fauna whirled around and screamed.

The word ‘bollocks’ was written on the white board in big, blocky, bubble letters. In uppercase. 

She spun to face her students. “Who did this?”

No one claimed responsibility.

Figures.

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

Mrs. Potts was busy making macaroni salad for the students' lunches.

As head cook, she was insistent that the kids in her care got the four major food groups.

Buuuuuuuuzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz. 

Pop. 

At that noise, Mrs. Potts whirls around to look behind her.

Only to be met with a floating bag of pepperonis that was about knee length in the air. 

“What on earth!” Mrs. Potts shrieked and stepped back.

The bag jumped before falling to the ground and a child glitched into view before scurrying away. 

Mrs. Potts had seen her fair share of wild things. Hell, she’d spent ten years as a teapot. 

But random glitching children stealing her pepperoni? 

Yeah, that was too much.

She dropped her ladle and ran out of the kitchen, screaming.

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

Hannah rifled through the cabinets of a classroom, looking for something to do. Glitching in and out of view as she struggled to stay visible.

“You looking for something, sweetheart?” A woman’s voice said, right next to her.

She spun around, trying not to look too guilty. “I ain't stealing.”

“I never said you were.” Honeymaren raised an eyebrow. “I just asked if you were looking for something.”

“... I don't know. I'm bored.”

“Well, I’d imagine so. Being a spirit must be awfully tiring.”

Hannah nodded. “There's nothing to do.” 

“My friend Gale, he’s a spirit too. He likes to make people fly.” Honeymaren made a whooshing motion with her hand.

The young spirit’s eyes lit up. “Like a fairy?” 

“Very similar.” A smile played on her lips. “If you want, after I’m done with my classes for today, I can teach you.”

Hannah danced in place, excitedly. “Yes please!”

Honeymaren couldn't help but be reminded of how her own daughter, Nora, was at that age. 

“Alright. Just…try and stay out of trouble until then.”

“Okay!”

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

Homework was stupid.

Chad really didn’t understand the concept of it.

He already had to do work at school, why did he have to bring it home?!

The math problems were swimming around the page, and he’d only completed three…out of thirty.

Suddenly, a ball of paper hit him in the back of the head. 

He whirled around, looking for the culprit. 

There was no one there.

Wondering if he was actually going insane, he cautiously returned to his problems, now double unable to focus.

Only to find the equations to the homework. The ones he's forgotten ages ago.

He glanced up at the sky. “God?!”

A small giggle rang out. “No.”

“Gah!” Chad hit the deck, as if expecting an explosion. “Who are you?!” He asked from the floor.

“Hannah from tourney!”

He blinked. “...You’re the one who shot the canon and made William pee his pants?”

The ghost (?) giggled amused. “Sorry!”

“It’s okay…it was funny.” Chad wanted to smack himself. Why was he talking to a ghost-maybe-not-a-ghost?

“I hope the math helps! I don't likes math either.”

“Yeah. Math sucks.” Chad agreed. “How did you find these things?” He gestured to the previously missing equation notes.

“I don't have anything betters to do than to writes stuff down.” He could almost see her shrugging. 

“I guess that’s fair enough.” He hadn’t really considered what it would be like to be a ghost—and yes, he was acknowledging that she was a ghost now.

It must have been boring. 

And lonely.

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

Belle couldn't find her book and her book club was set to start in ten minutes.

She’d looked everywhere she normally left her books, then started looking in places she would never leave them. Like the refrigerator.

Where she found one.

“What the–” Belle blinked. Was she going senile? There was no way she could have put this in there!

Ben peaked his head into the room. “Mom? Are you ready for book club?” 

The queen said nothing.

“Mom? Are you alright?”

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

His statue was missing it's head.

Former King Beast had walked around campus for a solid hour trying to either find the head, or the culprit.

When all the VK’s had solid alibis, he checked with Ben's close friends but found they had alibis as well: Fay had been furious he'd accused Jane at all, Grumpy had been even angrier and had cursed him out for accusing Doug, Coach Jenkins had cleared Lonnie, and Chad and Audrey weren't even on campus. 

He did find it, eventually.

In the downstairs girl’s bathroom. Upside down. In a bidet. With the word ‘BITCH’ painted on it. 

After doing a good amount of angry yelling at nothing, Beast stormed out of the bathrooms, not bothering to touch the statue head. He’d get a janitor to clean it later.

But he would be getting to the bottom of whoever did this, and punish them severely.

Only when he passed his portrait did he realize that his statue wasn't the only thing vandalized.

A crude mustache and glasses were painted on his face, as well as the words ‘scurvy ridden, scabby sea bass’. The words were punctuated by a picture of a sea bass smacking his portrait self in the face.

Beast roared.

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

The whole school was in chaos. 

FG and Ben were trying to get to the bottom of what was going on. 

But Mal already seemed to have an idea. “HANNAH ARTEMIS HOOK, KNOCK IT OFF!”

“Who’s Hannah Artemis Hook?” Ben asked his girlfriend, looking around cautiously.

Mal allowed some of her anger to drain out of her as she gave him a small smile. “Ghost kid from the isle. Don't worry about it. She won't actually hurt anybody.”

FG gave a condescending laugh. “Ghosts aren’t real. I’m sure this is just an intense prank. Remember how Calista Jane Hook was? I’m sure this is just the same.”

“That'd be news to me if she managed to fake her death that well at only seven.” Mal tried not to roll her eyes or come off as too sarcastic, simply for Ben's sake. “And not be exposed before now.”

Ben inhaled, regretting his life choices. “So let me get this straight: There’s the seven year old ghost of CJ Hook’s sister haunting Auradon?”

“No, she's just following us. She'll probably leave when she realizes we're safe enough here.” Mal waved him off. Before turning to look down the hall “But until then SHE NEEDS TO BEHAVE !”

The locker closest to Mal (coincidentally her own) slammed open. 

Ben jumped and let out a swear. FG jumped as well, but let out a “fiddlesticks!” instead of a normal swear.

“Is that her?” Ben asked, unsure of what exactly proper etiquette was for meeting a ghost.

“Yes. But again she won't hurt her…. Well, as long as you don't hurt any of the isle kids.”

FG huffed, but Ben looked at where he thought the ghost must be. “Uh, hi, Hannah! I’m King Ben. Welcome to Auradon!”

“Hi!” An echoey, eerie voice replied. 

Ben tried not to jump again. Was that disrespectful? “How’re you liking Auradon so far?”

“I likes da books. They ain't missin’ no pages!” The voice replied. “And nobody's died here yets!”

“Yaaaay?” Ben’s voice went flat. 

FG at least had the decency to look ashamed.

“Are yous Mally’s boyfriend?”

Mal hid her face in her hands, fully aware of how red that comment was going to make her.

He grinned widely. “Why, yes I am.” To prove his point, he kissed Mal on the cheek.

Hannah giggled loudly. “Oooo waits till her siblings find out!”

“Siblings?” Ben looked at his girlfriend in surprise. “I thought you just had the one. Treycor, right?”

“Ya! Treycor! But she has more!”

Mal nodded, embarrassed. “From our dad’s side…”

“Dad?” It suddenly occurred to him that he hadn’t heard much about the other parents of the VKs.

Hannah giggled. 

“Will you knock it off?” The purple haired teen snapped at the space where the little girl was supposedly standing. 

“Buuuuuuutttttrt Malllllllly I'm boooooooooooored! BORED, BORED, BORED!”

“You know, Carlos and Jay have video games in their room. You like video games?” Ben tried to placate her (and to get her to stop yelling.)

“...yes!”

“Maybe you can watch them play?” Ben was glad he was getting somewhere. “In fact, I can take you there now. I just have to ask you one question, if that’s okay?”

“...okay.”

Ben hesitated. He wasn’t sure how this would go. But there was a seven year old dead girl. He had to know. ��Can I ask how you…became a ghost, Hannah?”

The lights flashed, all of the lockers flung open, and a water fountain turned on. “Judge Frollo!”

FG screamed, and used her clipboard as a shield against the chaos. “Claude Frollo turned you into a ghost?!”

Mal winced. 

Ben had wrapped his arms around Mal to shield her from the lockers, but after FG said that, he glared at the woman with all his might. “She means that Judge Claude Frollo killed her, Fairy Godmother.”

FG gasped. “Oh.”

“She uh… was trying to protect his last two living children.” Mal added, hesitant for once. “Her mom and Grandma didn't make it in time to help.”

One of the lights exploded as the lockers slammed shut—silence quickly filling the hallway, sans the trickling water of the fountain. 

“Oh my gods.” Ben whispered, breaking the silence.

“Can we play now?” Hannah cut in, ‘breathing’ heavily before the water fountain turned off. 

Ben was not in the mood for playing, but he forced a smile anyway. “You betcha.”

“Yay!”

The lights flickered once more before stopping. 

“Race you ta Jay-Jay and ‘los’s room!”

[nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos]

This one was

oof

*deepbreath*

Flight Risk

Young!Mihawk x Marine!AFAB!Reader Ch. 9 of...uh what are numbers. Hilarious how I thought this might only be like four chapters originally.

Wordcount: 3,479

First chapter and previous chapter link

Brief summary of The Story So Far: Your mission, as a Marine and Zoan type devil fruit user (gray parrot), is to gather intel on Dracule Mihawk, a pirate on the Grand Line who has become a thorn in the Marines' side over a relatively short period of time. He has been allotted forty-eight hours to make his decision on the offer of becoming a Warlord, and you can do little but imagine what that means for you

Warnings and stuff: THIS CHAPTER IS NSFW. The next chapter will also be NSFW. The previous chapter was kinda NSFW but this one has definitely breached that territory. Young!Mihawk is unapologetically yandere here. Also I apologize for how much I love cliffhangers

Taglist: @i-am-vita, @madbadpadawan, @browneyedhufflepuff, @h0n3y-l3m0n05, @littleleelee, @nerium-lil , @dragon-bubs , @animefreak818 , @byysandra , @lufemia , @gizamalblythe , @schanwow

If anyone wants to be added to the taglist, just lemme know!!

Whatever else Bogard had to say on the matter fell on deaf ears as Mihawk, following his comment about you, dropped the reciever of the den den mushi back onto the desk, ending the call. He lowered his hand, tracing his fingers slowly along the length of your innter thigh, slipping his other out of your bra and behind your back to toy with the clasp holding it shut.

“To think you’ve spent the better part of two months hiding yourself from me,” he murmured. He sighed, hsaking his head, his fingertips trailing a path over the edge of your panties and over the curve of your bare waist seemed to leave tendrils of flame in their wake. “Such a waste of valuable time.” You bit your lip against a whimper as he deftly slipped the claps of your bra loose, lifting his hands to gently brush the straps down your shoulders, pulling the garment away from you. “And now we’re left with only two days to correct it.”

And he stopped, cupping his hands beneath your breasts, his thumbs halting so close to the stiff points of your erect nipples, your head such a fog that it was difficult to convince yourself this wasn’t all a much too vivid dream.

“You’re trembling, my pet,” he informed you in a light, amused tone, as if you weren’t already aware. You were shaking all over, anxious, anticipating, dying to hear his next words, craving his next touch. I am curious—how many men have had you before?”

You bit down harder on your lip, clenching your eyes shut, flaring with embarrassment at the blunt question. You could barely form a single thought already—the thought of admitting that made your head spin all the more violently.

“I asked you a question.”

“None—” you gasped out, gripping so hard at the edge of the chair that you thought you might tear the upholstery if you couldn’t will yourself to stop. You swallowed, your heart accelerating as you focused every ounce of your attention on his lips caressing your jaw, on his hands pushing up your breasts, on anything but the subject at hand. “N...none.”

“Not one?” His slight astonishment didn’t sound feigned, seemed perfectly honest, and you nodded quickly, wishing he would move his hands, in any direction, whether further away or even closer. He hummed quietly. “I did wonder, with how concerned your rear admiral seemed—no?” He chuckled as you shook your head rapidly. You had never mixed work with pleasure, had never even thought to, and Bogard was your commanding officer, had never been anything but professional. “I find it difficult to believe none of your fellow cadets would have taken interest in such a pretty little thing.”

“N—n-no—” You stammered as he finally pulled the rough pads of his thumbs across your nipples. You felt him draw in a sharp breath as you lowered your hand to grip his thigh, arch your back, unintentionally grinding yourself back against the stiff bulge at the front of his pants. His breath released as a low growl vibrating against your neck, and he rewarded you for the unexpected stab of pleasure by pressing down lightly on your sensitive nipples and massaging them in slow, small circles.

“No one,” he repeated with a sigh, quickly regaining control of himself, grinding against your hips when that single taste of gratification wasn’t enough. “So innocent.” He drew in a slow, deep breath, pressing his lips hard against your neck for a moment. “That’s as good as a crime, for such a lovely creature to be untouched for so long…”

Your eyes snapped open, staring down to watch his left hand as it slipped down from your breast, his fingertips drifting like feathers down the soft plane of your stomach.

“I hardly have any choice but to make it right myself.”

Further, lower, beneath the dip of your navel, brushing across the waist of your panties—his other hand lifting away from your breast, his breath hot against your jaw as he curled it beneath your chin and spoke with his lips barely brushing the corner of your mouth.

“Turn your head.” You bit your lip, unable to tear your eyes from his hand halted at your waist, his fingertips caressing across the top of your panties. If you looked at him, allowed your eyes to lock with his for even a moment, it would all be real.

“Turn,” he repeated slowly, his voice still an intimate murmur, though a bit firmer in his command, “your head, pet. That wasn’t a request. No,” he said, shaking his head as your eyes snapped shut and you started to turn. “You will keep your eyes open. I want you here, not somewhere else.”

He knew exactly what you were trying to do. Trying to close your eyes, imagine you were somewhere else, anywhere else, that this really was all a strange dream, that you weren’t willingly going against your mission in favor of the promise of carnal pleasure—

“I would hate to have to punish my little bird,” he murmured, though from the way he pulled you back against him, close enough that you felt the throbbing of his arousal against your lower back, he hardly seemed that put off by the thought. “Especially when we’re in the middle of enjoying ourselves.” He lifted his hand from your chin, brushed your hair back from your temple and tucked it behind your ear, trailing his fingers down your neck. “Look at me, pretty girl.”

Your eyes drifted open as you turned your head, and your heart exploded into arrhythmia the moment they locked with his—hearing him murmur that pet name in your ear, as much a taunt as it was a sultry invitation, made it impossible for you to turn away. He said it so quietly, so tenderly, so salaciously that you obeyed him automatically, staring wide-eyed into the mingling amusement and hunger in his gaze. He brushed his knuckles below your chin and settled his fingertips at the edge of your hairline, at your temple.

“You belong to me now,” he said, tilting his head slightly and leaning in. “Do not forget that.”

You swallowed, unable to move at all now that your gaze was locked with his, the sharp yellow orbs holding you in place as if by some irresistible magnetic force. He still wasn’t moving either, except to stroke his thumb across your lips. Your eyes flashed down toward his other hand, wondering why he didn’t continue, wishing he would, you had done everything he asked.

“What is it, my darling pet? Did you want me to touch you? Yes?” he chuckled when you nodded several times. “You have followed most of my orders well,” he allowed, dragging his knuckles down your neck, down your collorbone, resting his hand over your breast. “I might...if you can ask nicely.”

You had no choice. The dull, throbbing ache between your thighs, only a couple inches beneath his fingertips, it was too much to bear now. Too good to resist. He seemed bent on enjoying your growing desperation as long as possible before he gave you anything else, and you had no choice but to play along.

“Please—plea…” And bent on making it as difficult as possible, as he brushed his lips to your jaw, to the corner of your mouth. You licked your lips, your mouth gone dry from your erratic breathing. “Please t—touch me,” you breathed, your eyes clenching shut briefly, a small whimper escaping you as he tightened his grip on your breast, his palm rubbing across your oversensitive nipple. But you forced them back open quickly—he had told you to keep them open, there was no choice in that. “Please…”

“‘Please’ what?”

You swallowed dryly, immediately grasping his meaning—then bluring out what he was looking for in a pained cry as he pinched your nipple hard between his thumb and forefinger.

“P-please—mm—master—please t-touch—”

But your desperate pleas were cut short, muffled as he crushed his lips so hard against yours that it nearly hurt. By the sharp breath he inhaled and the ferocity of his brief kiss he must have approved, even if his grip on your breast had tightened to the point that it pulled another gasp of pain from you—yet it also sent a jolt though you that made you pull your thighs a bit tighter against the throbbing pressure between them. He abruptly broke away, exhaling a slow sigh as he loosened his hand.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked lightly, gently massaging the soft mound under his grasp so you released your breath in a shaking sigh. He raised his eyebrows, waiting for you to respond, but all you could find the will to do was offer a short nod. “Oh, dear…” He lifted his hand to your cheek, brushing his thumb across your trembling bottom lip. “I’ll need to take care not to forget how delicate you are.” Your eyes fluttered shut as his lips brushed a tender kiss against the corner of your mouth. “I would hate to break my new toy when I’ve hardly yet had a chance to play with it.”

You glanced down as he pulled his other hand away from your stomach, shifting it to your waist—and he stood so suddenly that you three your arms around his neck with a cry of alarm, sure he would shove you right to the floor at his feet for a moment. Instead he hooked an elbow under your knees, cradling you in his arms and resting his forehead against yours.

“I suppose I ought to atone for my carelessness.”

You couldn’t have torn your gaze away from his sharp yellow eyes if you wanted to, from the ever present devilish spark glowing in their depths, unaware of where you were being carried until he lay you across the elongated daybed across the room at the huge window stretching up to an arch at the high ceiling, where he had spent much of his spare time reading with you perched near his side in your devil fruit form over the last several weeks. He brushed a few books off of it, letting them fall over the edge and to the stone floor without a care for where they landed.

You fought the impulse to cover yourself as his eyes passed slowly over you, certain he would only tug your hands aside if you tried to. You instead shifted back against the cushions behind you, your gaze flickering to his hand tracing a slow path up your inner thigh. A shiver crept through you as his light touch passed over the small triangle that was the front of your plain white panties, continuing slowly up the flat plane of your stomach—up, between your breasts as he pushed your legs apart with his knee, up to your neck to curl beneath your chin as you lay your head back on the pile of throw pillows.

He planted his elbow on the bed above your shoulder, and a soft whimper left you at the caress of his lips at the other side of your neck. You gripped at the edge of the mattress at the powerful, pleasurable quiver between your thighs that came with the delicate path his lips traced along the curve of your neck, your breath entering and leaving your lungs in short, halting bursts.

“You are truly exquisite,” he murmured, so close to your ear that his lips brushed across it. His fingers curled into your hair near your temple and you found yourself turning your head toward the light touch automatically, arching your hips as his other hand gripped at the soft flesh of your rear. His low chuckle in your ear alone was enough to pull a soft moan from somewhere in your chest. “And so sensitive. You really haven’t been touched before, have you, my pet?”

As he shifted to shove off his coat before he moved his hand up your hip, lacing his fingers around the side of your underwear, trailing his lips across your neck, you finally dared to glance down. You immediately regretted doing so as your breath stuttered to a halt and your eyes became glued to him. You had seen him shirtless before, but never so close, much less pinning you into such a compromising position beneath him. You gripped the mattress under you a little tighter, wondering whether he would be angry if you lifted your hands to touch his broad shoulders, to feel his powerful, solid chest under your palms; to brush your fingers over his sleep, jet black hair or the contours of his high cheekbones and angular jaw.

The temptation was quickly growing too great to bear—at least when he had been behind you you couldn’t see the slow rising and falling of his chest, or how each muscle in his strong upper arms flexed as his hands explored across your nearly naked body.

You could ask.

The prospect filled you with such intense anxiety that you were sure you would faint, even before you could feel his skillful hands delve below the waist of your panties. You swallowed as his lips brushed your jaw, closing your eyes for a moment and drawing in a slow, deep breath, drawing up every ounce of resolve in your mind and body to find the ability to speak.

“C...can...can I touch you—mm—master?”

You couldn’t muster more than a whisper, but he had heard you—he paused with his lips grazing the crook of your neck, and your heart stopped briefly with the cessation of his movement, your fingers digging into the edge of the mattress. Maybe you shouldn’t have asked, shouldn’t have even spoken without permission. Perhaps that wasn’t as bad as laying your hands on him, on his pale skin stretched taut across his lean, toned torso and his roguishly handsome face; but it was still surely punishable, enough to irritate him if the pressure of his fingertips digging into your waist and stomach were any indication.

Then he sighed slowly, his breath quavering as he loosened his grip. Your own breath left you in a sigh as well when he combed his fingers down through your hair, down until you could turn your cheek into the warmth of his rough palm.

“Do you really have to ask, dear?”

The brief disruption in his composure was gone in a flash in his light, amused tone. The question was rhetorical on its surface, but anything could be a test. Any oversight could potentially get you into trouble, and you were too vulnerable in your present situation to be able to do anything to counteract it. You swallowed again, and managed to force yourself to speak up. It was only a mumble, a trembling murmur, but at least it was more than a whisper this time.

“I...didn’t want to...to make you angry, sir.”

There was nothing disapproving in his quiet chuckle—if it was a test, you had passed. You lay your head back in a low, breathy moan as he brushed his lips to the column of your throat. “As reward for your obedience…”

The warm vibration of his murmur at your jaw, just below your chin, had you clenching your thighs around his knee, arching your back and your hips in a futile attempt to find some respite from the unbearable, swelling pressure throbbing between them. He shifted his other knee between your legs, forcing them apart again, refusing to allow you any relief. You felt his lips brush across your own and drew in a sharp breath as the quiet sound of his deep voice alone lifted goosebumps all over your body.

“You may.”

For a brief, terrifying moment, your hands refused to move.

Your shoulders tensed as you fought the anxiety crippling you from loosening your death-grip on the mattress beneath you—he couldn’t grant you permission if he didn’t want you to, and for you to falter now would surely do nothing more than annoy him.

Then he lifted your head, pressing his lips fully to yours, and every muscle in your body relaxed in the brief, firm kiss. You lifted your hand nearest the window, trembling, until your fingertips grazed the hard muscle adorning his thick upper arms. You gasped at the shock it sent through your body, pulling your hand away for a moment as the warmth of his skin seemed to scorch your fingers.

Then you lifted it further, your eyes fluttering shut at the delightful sensation of his lips gingerly grazing your cheek, and let your palm rest against his broad shoulder. Your other rose from the edge of the mattress, as if longing of its own accord to feel the heat of his body beneath it, and you felt as much as you heard his slow sigh as you trailed your fingertips up the hard plane of his chest, up the cords of his strong neck and jaw. Your breath stuttered to an astonished halt when your reached his sharp cheekbone and he leaned toward your touch, brushing a kiss to your lips as your fingertips slipped into his soft, dark hair.

“Is it your intention to break my will?” he asked lightly. His amusement was still present, but there was a quiet purr in his deep, sensual murmur that made your heart flutter and your breath catch. You quickly shook your head—and then gasped, digging your fingertips into his scalp and his muscular shoulder when he pressed a hard kiss to your neck and sucked the tender skin into his mouth, biting down lightly. He exhaled a slow, heavy breath of air before pressing his lips there again, gingerly, lightly grazing his tongue against the same spot.

“Are you quite sure?” You nodded automatically—you had barely done anything at all, nothing you thought would affect him remotely as much as it would you. “You do possess quite a talent for fooling me.” You opened your eyes when you felt his forehead rest against yours, and found his gaze boring into you, challenging you to show any sign of dishonesty. You swallowed, unable to blink as you stared straight back into his eyes. “Your talent for acting is nothing short of captivating.”

You swallowed as you felt his hand creep across your stomach, below your navel, his fingers curling around the edge of your panties again.

“But it makes it difficult to know whether you’re lying,” he went on, his lips grazing yours with each murmured word. You couldn’t breathe as he curled his fingers in your hair. “I can hardly tell without seeing your eyes.”

His fingertips, brushing across the small, thin triangle of fabric that barely covered your intense arousal.

“Tell me….” He brushed his thumb across your burning cheek. “Who is it you belong to?”

“Y—you,” you said automatically—and hurried to correct yourself when he lifted his eyebrows. “You, sir—y-you’re my master.”

He pressed his lips firmly to yours, drawing in a sharp breath as his tongue teased against your bottom lip, drawing a sharp moan up from your chest before releasing you.

“And should I reward my pretty little pet for being such a good girl?”

The pressure was unbearable now, as he pressed his palm down onto your lower abdomen to still your involuntary squirming beneath him, to stop you from arching your hips toward his light, teasing caresses.

“You sucked in a sharp breath through your teeth as he pushed his hand into your panties without warning—but he kept it still, only resting his palm over the heat of your arousal, barely brushing his fingertips against the mound, smirking as you uttered a low, agonized moan of protest.

“Y—yes, sir,” you breathed, nodding quickly. You needed it, needed to feel his skillful touch against your throbbing center, to feel the push of his fingers at your entrance, needed more. “Y-yes, master, please—”

“You will tell me when you’re close, pet. Until I allow it, you aren’t to come.”

You fixed your eyes on his and nodded quickly in response to his low warning, your heart racing in anticipation. You were apt to lose yourself the moment he applied the slightest pressure, but you would deal with the repercussions if it meant finding some relief from this agony. He brushed his lips to yours, and his next words gave you pause, made your eyes widen and your heart stop as you immediately reconsidered the possibility of defiance.

“You aren’t to come,” he repeated, his voice a low, sultry purr at the corner of your trembling lips, “until I pull you onto my cock and grant you permission.”

[peachiixox]

Luna picrew by しいな (I edited the eyes green)

Basic info on Luna

Member of the whitebeard pirates

Assistant / helper to Marco & chef w Thatch!

Her hair has a slight pink tint to it

I'd describe her personality as happy-go-lucky, caring, excitable, bubbly & clumsy, she can be a bit dumb sometimes too😆

In the OP world she would be Swiss German (I he whitebeard as Swiss German

- as he is from Sphinx which I hc as Switzerland!) & whatever the main language is on the moby dick - she speaks Swiss German to pops & Marco has also learnt some!!

Her bestie are / where Izou, thatch & Ace - she's like a big/lil sis to them

Loves fashion & make up - but sometimes her fashion choices are questionable

XD

Abilities

She dosent have a devil fruit

She's not physically strong in battle but her skills lie elsewhere, she assists Marco with medical work, she's become good at prescribing people with the right medication. She learnt from Marco & has helped treat whitebeard over time!

Cooking! She can cook delicious meals & can match Thatch's cooking, which is very nostalgic & makes the crew very happy.

Backstory

She lived quite a lonely life - often misunderstood. She's 'different & some of the villagers were confused & was ignored by.

On her island one day the wb pirates docked for a few days, she was intrigued & not scared - which was unusual for pirates.

She saw Thatch & Marco head into the village shops/ stalls to get supplies. She was in awe of Marco. She eventually got talking with them. By the end of their visit she went to see whitebeard to ask to go with them, he was amused by her enthusiasm, bravery & liked her cute charm to have around. He let her onboard & Thatch agreed that they also needed more Chefs & Marco could do with some assistance.💛

feel free to ask anything & more to come ✨

[dxwnfxll]

Learned the Law of Talos lore fully (or at least what was available) and decided to remake my oc Toffee! (with her 'family' included)

Up Close of her family (if the words are hard to read here's a better desc)

Toffee - Brown bear - Works at Pirates cove

Pannie - Red panda - Works at the food court

Cassidy - Sun bear - Works at the landing zone (alien themed area i thought of)

Willie - Kodiak bear - Works at the haunted house

All of them are animatronics and Toffee is the only one currently with 'free will' (meaning she got soda in her wires and now thinks she's a living being)

Fun facts about them

Kodiak is an older model (hence the missing parts) he hates kids and tries to remain in the shadows more

Toffee, Pannie and Cassidy are triplets (as they were all made together)

They all have programmed dialogue for visitors with their own backstories and such, so it's debatable if the other three have sentience or if that's just their own programming

Toffee was friends with Karl (my own hc being that he was actually a nice person until Rachel left)

Also yah she had a crush on Rachel and Karl both (nothing happened though womp womp)

Toffee sadly dies during the tournament as well (by a betrayal from Doll) but is brought back in the end

Also here's another Oc i'm working on who's a lil more evil than Toffee (and actually fears Karl) Named Doll

GORE WARNING BELOW, EYE STUFF

Fun facts about her

She's a part of a 'build a doll area' (which i also made up and based off of build a bear)

She's obviously referenced off of Rachel as her creator (whoever that may be) dressed her the same as Rachel and gave her similar hair

She came around after Rachel had left though

Also yes she pulls her fucking eye out often to freak people out

Similar to Karl she has a sadistic personality and a hatred towards humans (even going as far as to replace her porcelain eye with a real one)

The left side of her face is porcelain while the other part is rag doll

She is made up of polyester stuffing, cotton and blood?

She's manipulative, evil, and blood thirsty

She and Toffee joined together as Doll manipulated her to be her bodyguard, stating her wish was to be a 'real girl' but truthfully she wanted control over the amusement park

Karl fucking kills her during the tournament

Also i might be making a small au where Karl, Doll and Toffee live on as humans/living beings now maybe i'll post more about it

[count-alucard-tepes]

Headcanons of your favorite OP hotties holding hands/comparing hand sizes with their child

Children are smol. How is it even possible? Itty bitty noisy things. Lil twerps. Brats, but they’re their daddy’s special baby.

Kizaru✨

His child loves placing their little hands in his huge one and saying cute things like ‘daddy, my hand is almost your size, see!’. Kizaru definitely would agreed even though it was far from the truth. He would let his child hold his one finger with their entire hand when they’re walking together.

Akainu🌋

He lets his child play with his fingers and just watches them as they try to arm wrestle him with amusement and even let’s them win all the time. He’s careful that he doesn’t accidentally burn his child as he constantly has to control his magma powers. He lets his child hold his finger when they’re walking together.

Benn Beckman 🔫

His child always asks about why he has so many cuts and scars on his hands but he doesn’t really say the truth as he tries to shield his child from his actual life as a pirate. He lets his child bandage his fingers and give the poorly bandages fingers kisses which always made him smile. He always holds their hand while they’re sleeping and he enjoys kissing their little fingers.

Sir Crocodile 🐊

His child is always so curious about his hook and tries to play with it which leads to him having to put a cork on it to make sure he doesn’t actually hurt his kid. He distracts the child with the many rings on his good hand and his child loves to play with his fingers or holding his hand with both of theirs and letting him lift them high, earning a few giggles. His child asks about his bad hand and he doesn’t like to tell the truth so he usually says he beat up a sea monster and it bit off his hand as revenge. This always makes his child laugh.

Doflamingo Donquixote 🦩

He always loves playing games with his child with his hands especially games that he used to play with Rosinante when they were kids. He would even sing the chants in Spanish with his child and teach them words while they sat in his lap, teaching them step by step. He likes to create little objects with his string powers and his child thinks it’s magic, always inspecting his hands to see where the string came from but can never find it! Doffy loves kissing his child’s hands and lets his child touch his face with those little hands all they like, even letting them grab the sunglasses off his face. Usually when he got his sunglasses back, they had several fingerprints on them.

Katakuri Charlotte 🍡

He loves having his child’s hands in his and crouch down to let them play with his hands as they are enormous compared to their child’s. He lets his child crawl up into his hand and use it as an elevator to bring them up to his shoulder before placing them gently on. His child hugs on his face and gives him tons of kisses which he adores.

Killer🔪

He enjoys plucking fruit from trees with his child and would get them to a spot that his child could easily pick at the trees. Sometimes he has to grasp the child’s little hand and tug a little so that the fruit is released from the tree. He enjoys cutting the fruit and feeding it to his child, his child would cling to his hand and sometimes playfully bite Killer’s hand…Killer makes dramatic sounds as if he actually got hurt which would earn some giggles.

Kaido🐉 (before he was a bad dad)

He would hold his child’s hand whenever they walked together and even though their hand was much smaller than Kaido’s, he still makes the effort to be gentle but firm so that they don’t wander off. He would have his child sleep on his chest and gently play with their fingers as they rested.

King 👑

He enjoys kissing his child’s little hands and fingers at every chance he gets, they are just too cute and soft. When this child is being carried by him, his child wraps their little arms around his neck as much as they can and rest against his face, giving some kisses too. He adores any moment he can get to be loving towards his child.

Queen👑

He always gives high fives to his child when they do something awesome and he makes sure to be the one always receiving the high five so that he doesn’t hurt his child. He loves when his child tries to imitate him with fingers guns or jazz hands, he think their little form is so adorable…a literal mini-queen.

[aggressivelyclueless]

hey @ghosts-haunt this one’s for you! happy Truce!! :D

no-one-knows-au/sleepover-summons x2 combo!! also with a lil angst!! check it:

They didn't start the night off with plans to summon the Phantom of Amity Park.

It was a perfectly reasonable escalation of events, that was all.  Really.

There were five of them sprawled out in the basement that night: Sam, who was playing host for once and acted largely as the buffer between the rest of them and her parents (although Grandma, she assured her friends, was harmless); Malady Jones, armed with a flashdrive containing a dozen pirated horror flicks; Malady's boyfriend, Nathaniel, who scared very easily but had accepted the invitation nonetheless; Conrad Maynard Sterling, who was still trying desperately to get the name "Spike" to stick; and Felicity Warren, who Sam had met in third-hour and had brought her ouija board, just-in-case.

At sundown, when Malady and Nathaniel arrived, the plans were still loose; that said, they were still in "movies" territory, with "seance" being optional.

Now it was coming up on eleven.  Three pizza boxes lie, eviscerated and weeping grease, on the floor by the popcorn machine.  The projector was still dutifully rolling, but the screen held no one's attention: all eyes were on Conrad -- namely, on the dead-eyed vampire makeup he was doing for Malady.

"You're sure, no blood?" he asked her, for the twelfth time.  He kept a jar of it in his bag, alongside other staples of the genre: liquid latex, scar putty, scab gel, glistening spray, technicolor bruise palette.  Pale, undead faces were all well and good -- but the less savory it was to look at, the more horrible of an injury it was, the better Conrad got at mimicking it with a sponge or a brush.

"Yes, I'm sure," said Malady patiently, sliding a glance over to Nathaniel, who had sunk into a beanbag in the corner.  "We'll do blood next time, when he won't be around to faint."

"I won't faint!" came the rebuttal from the beanbag.  After some consideration: "I might puke a little, if it's gross.  But I won't faint."

Conrad relented, nodding.  "Close your eyes," he instructed to Malady, going in with the eyeliner next.

"Between the two, I'd say faint," said Sam, elbows propped on the back of the sofa, sock-feet kicking idly back and forth.  "One less thing to explain to the cleaning lady tomorrow, you know?"

Nathaniel scoffed, but took the jab with decent humor.  "Right, I'll pick that on purpose, then."

"Oh, hang on, credits are rolling," said Felicity, shuffling her way over to the laptop running the projector.  "Did we want to put on another one?"

"Nah," said Malady and Nethaniel at the same time, and a moment later they both cracked up.

"Well it's not even midnight, don't tell me you gus are tired yet," said Sam, her swinging feet going still as she frowned.  ". . . are you?"

"No," said Malady, "but I'm bored of Vincent Price now and if I eat any more popcorn I'm going to be the one puking."

Felicity slid around the side of the sofa, pointedly silent, but Sam watched her do it in amusement: she had a pretty good idea of what Felicity was about to suggest.

"You have an idea?" said Sam, offering the hook, and Felicity's smile turned smug.

"I have the board," she said, and now that it was out she may as well go on.  "My place is a bust half the time, and Mal's basement hasn't been the same since they put the new water heater in -- but we always have good luck here."

"Seance?  I'm game," said Conrad, and swore under his breath at the eyeliner.  Malady threw a thumbs-up over her head in agreement, not wanting to disturb him; along with Sam's approval, that seemed to decide it.

But then Felicity's smile widened from smug to clever.  "Seance, and," she said, and the four of them all turned her way in surprise.

"And?" Sam prompted, when no one else did.

"And. . . maybe a spell," said Felicity, "If you guys are down for it."

"Hang on a sec," Sam interceded, hearing the others making curious murmurs which would no doubt lead to the go-ahead if she said nothing.  "What kind of spell?  Where'd you find it?"

Felicity put a placating hand out.  "Don't worry about it, it's not anything crazy.  It's just a summoning spell.  You've done a few of Nightingale's, right?  The ones you said maybe had something to them?  This one's his too, and I figured we could give it a shot."

"And summon what?" said Nathaniel, not liking the sound of where this was going.

Felicity shrugged deliberately.  "Maybe nothing.  Maybe we get it wrong, or it doesn't work.  Or maybe. . . we summon a ghost."

"And if it goes wrong?  My parents will never let me hear the end of it," said Sam, "Why didn't you say anything about this last week when we were at yours -- ?"

"Because I didn't have it all worked out yet," said Felicity, "Besides, it's basically a seance anyways.  Every time we do those, it's all, inviting-the-dead-into-the-realm-of-the-living, right?  Same thing."

"It is so not the same thing," said Conrad, then added, "I'm still down, though."

"I'm also-still-down.  Unless you wanna wait until next week and we can make my house haunted instead.  My mom won't care, you know that."  Malady propped herself up as Conrad backed off her, swiping his setup back into the makeup bag.

Sam made a shrug of hesitation, but at that point it was an empty gesture.  Truth be told, she'd been looking for a summoning spell, on-and-off, for weeks.  She knew Nightingale's credibility, and even had a compilation of notes and surviving chapters of his books in her room; if there was a summoning ritual written down among his works, it would be authentic.

"Yeah, all right," she said at last, wondering what exactly would happen if they did manage to loose a ghost in the house.  At the very least, she could ask it nicely to terrorize her mother and not her; anything beyond that was conjecture.  "Sure.  We can do a summoning.  Who d'you have in mind?"

"A benign spirit," said Felicity, but Sam shook her head: there were no vagueries allowed now.  Still, Felicity insisted.  "One I’ve been kind of curious about, and one I don't think has ever actually hurt anyone."

"Like who?" Sam pressed, and finally Felicity relented with a long, overdramatic sigh.

"Fine.  It's the reason I went digging so hard to find this thing, anyways: I want to summon the Phantom of Amity Park."

- - - -

The ritual began, per tradition, at the stroke of midnight.  The rules -- at least, the version of them that had survived -- didn't mention said stroke being mandatory, but it was agreed that it coudn't hurt their chances, and the set-up left them only with a few minutes to spare, anyhow.  Considering the intricacy of some of Nightingale's other ghost rituals, this one seemed a cakewalk: a few candles, a few lines of chalk, maybe a bloodflower or two (they eschewed those, considering they were optional anyway and this ordeal was functionally spur-of-the-moment), a bit of Latin here and there.

And it was for the best that both of Sam's parents went to bed early.  Either one of them coming down to check on them now would have been a nightmare.

They each sat at the edge of the outermost circle drawn on the hardwood, palms down.  The projector had been shut down and the overhead lights killed; the only illumination now was the flickering of the candles on the floor.  The grandfather clock in the hall upstairs was keeping time for them, on the official side anyhow -- that was the kind of tolling you could hear from anywhere in the house, and seemed more definitive than the approximation of five phone clocks.

Any minute now, it would go off.

"Can I still chicken out?" said Nathaniel, although the others knew he wasn't going to.  He was allowed, of course, and had been the whole time -- but he said, usually after second-guessing himself, that he had to find out what happened, one way or the other, and he'd probably never live it down if he bailed now.

Felicity, by far the most patient, nodded slowly.  "Sure, you can.  If you really want to."

"But, should I?"

"Beats me," said Malady, "Bail or don't.  But make up your mind because once we get this thing going you won't have a choice anymore."

Nathaniel took his palms off the floor, almost made to swipe them clean on the side of his pants, reconsidered, put them back on the hardwood again.  The others had gotten serious all of a sudden -- did that mean things would get bad?  How bad, exactly?  Thinking too much about it was pointing his anxiety into a tailspin, but if he let it freefall he'd be a nervous wreck in no time.

Maybe he would end up fainting after all -- but at least that was something he could handle.

He was considering pulling his hands away yet again when the first chime of the clock upstairs echoed down to them, and just like that it was too late.  Whether he'd regret it or not -- he was really in it now.  He, along with the others, had been given the Latin; like Felicity had promised, it wasn't terribly difficult.

The chalk under their palms reacted with the first pass, as if volatile, erupting into spitting, hissing flames that raced around the periphery and enclosed the runes within.  Yellow faded to an ethereal, foggy white, emanating from five pairs of hands; with a second, third, fourth pass of the incantation they settled into a calmer ring on the hardwood floor.  Despite them, the room around them went cold as stone.

And by the fifth pass, the outline of the ghost was slowly becoming visible.  Wisps of white mist suggested hands, suggested feet, suggested hair, although the spirit's body was a black hole.  It hung, utterly motionless, in the air over the circle, and at last its eyes winked open one at a time.

"Holy shit," Felicity breathed, "This thing really works. . . "

The ghost wafted slightly lower, turning its gaze down and regarding the summoners in turn.  Aside from the eyes, which burned as two blindingly green circles, it did not appear to possess a face, or any other features at all.  Nonetheless, the impression it gave was, indisputably, that it was frowning.  When it spoke, its voice was a soundless echo.

(What do you want?)

"This was your idea," Malady whispered, nudging Felicity with the side of her foot, "You tell him."

Felicity refocused, still somewhat aghast that they had been successful at all.  "You're the Phantom of Amity Park," she said slowly, "You're. . . you're real, then."

(Yes) said the ghost, now swaying lightly back and forth within the confines of the circle, as if testing its limits.  Its unblinking eyes were locked on Felicity, betraying nothing.

"And you wander," said Malady, regretting it instantly as the ghost's eyes slid across its shadowed surface to face her.  She shied back slightly, but kept her hands planted on the circle before her.  "I mean, you get around. . . more than a lot of people. . . "

The mist that comprised the spirit's extremities seemed to draw slightly inward.  (Yes) it said again, and, sensing the immediate question: (No grave, I think)

"Then what are you looking for?" said Felicity, and Malady was thankful for it.  "You must be looking for something, if you get around so much, right?"

The ghost considered the question, but declined to give an answer.  Instead, it asked: (Why?  Are you going to find it for me?)

"Well -- " Felicity started, but Sam cut her off.

"Don't.  If you say yes he's going to hold you to it."

"I was going to say maybe," said Felicity, "I know how this works, I'm not dumb."

"You're not," said Conrad, and Felicity was about to thank him for it when she realized he was focusing on the ghost.  "You're not looking for anything, are you?  That's not why you linger."

The ghost said nothing.

Conrad didn't let it off the hook.  "Is it?"

(No.  It's not) said the ghost reluctantly, and shifted in place, drawing the vague shapes of its hands closer together.  The chill that had settled over the room deepened an extra degree.

"Then why do you linger?" said Malady carefully, and when the ghost rounded on her this time it was bristling.

(Do you care?  Do you have to?) said the ghost, and Sam shot Malady a warning look: it wasn't angry yet, at least not outwardly -- best not to upset it.

But, damn her, Malady pressed: "Well, they’ve only been sighting you for a couple of months, I think -- we were curious."

(Don't be) snapped the ghost, its eyes crackling momentarily as two circles of green-tinted static.  Its body seemed to radiate it as well, an almost-tangible feeling in the air like a static charge.

"Mal, quit it, don't piss him off," Sam hissed through her teeth, but found herself freezing up when the ghost turned its gaze on her.  For a long moment it said nothing, only stared, unblinking, and she swore she could hear the ceaseless, featherlight whispers rolling off it like mist.

Then it seemed to regard them as a collective again.  (What more do you want?)

"We want to know what you're after," said Malady, this time fully ignoring the daggers that Sam was glaring in her direction.  "Or how come you don't vanish when someone sees you, or. . . "

(Don't) said the ghost, and the static was back again in its eyes.  It wasn’t just a feeling this time -- the shape under its veil of fog was hissing now, soft but unmistakable, and the whiteflame chalk began to buzz under five sets of fingers, out-of-tune like a CRT monitor.  (Don't ask questions you don't want to find out the answers to)

"It's not just that," Conrad murmured, "There's a lot of stuff that doesn't add up.  You don't have a haunt, you're not trying to close any wounds, you won't -- "

The ghost growled, and along with it came the certainty that, somewhere under the veneer of shadows it wore, its teeth were baring in a snarl.  (Stop it) it demanded, but Conrad saw the desperation in it, which meant he was right.

"You don't have a story," he said, which was perhaps the most glaring flaw of all.  Every ghost had a widely-accepted story behind it -- although the accuracy of any given one was up for debate -- but the Phantom had none, at least none that had gotten around yet.  Aside from a scattering of sightings, the Phantom of Amity Park was little more than a rumor.

Or, rather, it had been until now.

"Phantom," said Sam, knowing it was going to be asked regardless, and deciding that she could at least apply some tact to the question, "You do have a story, don't you?  Or at least a name?"

(Yes) said the phantom, but it was through a strained hiss of static.  The stringing wisps of fog at its sides made its hands seem long and angular, almost too much so; the distortion would not leave its voice now, no matter the manner in which it spoke.  (I don't want to do this.  I don't want to be here.  If you won't let me go. . . )

"You won't hurt us," said Felicity, but the hesitation that followed was damning.  Still, she held her ground.  "You can't.  The summoning ritual's got a binding element woven in.  You can't harm us unless we tell you to."

(No?) said the ghost, its hands seeming sharper now, almost clawed.  It was bluffing -- surely, it was bluffing, it had to be.  But if not. . .   (You're sure?  Don't you remember how many other rules I've broken?)

"I'm sure," said Felicity, knowing that it was too late to back down.  "And until we release you, you can't disobey us."

"Don't test him like that," Nathaniel whispered, the first thing he'd said since the clock had struck twelve.  Felicity looked over at him: his face was pale and waxy-looking, his hands trembling in place although he refused to take them off the chalk circle.  He was taking deliberate deep breaths, trying to keep himself calm; it seemed to be only half working.  "Don't test him, don't piss him off, what if we did what he wants, what if we let him go?"

"What, and watch him bite our heads off?  If we release him now, he can do whatever the hell he wants, remember?  Shit."  Felicity frowned, eyes darting from one side of the room to the other thinking to piece together a solution.  If she'd have thought further ahead, this scenario might have seemed worth considering -- but she'd convinced herself, and subsequently the others, that the phantom was harmless, probably a lesser spirit.  An odd one, sure, but ultimately benign. . .

"Wait a sec, wait a sec," Sam shifted up a little, repositioning her knees under her.  The static at her fingertips was fading slowly to numbness; she wondered if the phantom could hear her heartbeat racing.  Probably.  Still, she forced herself to hold its irradiated gaze.  "Phantom: if we release you now, you won't hurt us.  Right?  Or do we have to command it?"

The phantom loomed over her, its head tilting back and forth, considering her.  It floated down, tucking up its feet to remain airborne, until they were almost level.  Behind the shadows, its arms were thin and gangling; the fingers it reached out were decorated with faint lichtenburg arcs yet made of nothing at all.  (I won't hurt you.  I promise) it whispered, and the hand closed, offering only the suggestion of its little finger.

It did not even cross Sam's mind that the move could be in deceit, tricking her into taking one hand off the chalk in order to give it her little finger in return.  The gesture was fully automatic: by the time she even realized that she'd done it, her hand was shrouded in the mist that fed the ghost's form and the only sensation she could process was a buzzing hum like a battery's charge.  There was no solid, tangible hand for her to touch -- but there was no question that the pinky swear had been completed.

And slowly, the distorted static hiss began to fade.  The ring of ghostfire went out in a choked puff! of grey smoke.  The ghost enveloped itself in shadow, dispelling a moment later like the twist of the tuner dispels the voice on the radio.  The flickering of the candles subsided, stilling the dancing shadows on the walls.

Just like that, the ghost was gone.

"Sam?" Felicity whispered, "What did it tell you?  Just now?"

Sam looked over, still buzzing.  "You didn't hear it?"  Felicity shook her head: Sam considered, but only briefly.  Then she sat back, making a decent effort at a casual shrug.

"He said to leave him alone, or else."

- - - -

It was almost twelve-thirty when Danny got home.  It wasn't far, and he sailed over late-night rooftops and lawns without even noticing the cold, drifting in through his bedroom window and landing in a pool of silvery moonlight splayed across his bed.  He floated there, comprised of invisible shadow, and tried to get the unease out of his mind.

He'd been summoned?

Since when could anybody do that?

He should have been more careful.  He knew by now that matters of death weren't terribly forgiving; the learning curve was steep and offered few second chances.  Every time he was beginning to think he'd gained decent control over his abilities, something like this would come up and smack him in the face.

Two months, he'd been dead -- when were things supposed to get easier?  They were, eventually, right?

Danny took a deep breath, hating how it felt, and hating that he hated it, and wrenched himself back to life.  The sudden, jarring kickstart of his heart, the spark of warmth that was so alien to his ghost form -- even the everpresent facts of life surprised him, after their absence.  That was the ghost's doing, too, no doubt.  He was sure that he'd never get used to that thing, not completely.

Or at least he'd never trust it.

But he had to find out everything about it in order to get better control.  And now, apparently, he was gaining a little more notice from the living in Amity Park, enough at least for Sam and her goth friends to (somehow? he wasn't sure on the how) conjure him point-blank in her house.  And if she could do it -- who else could?

He should count himself lucky that the crash-course came like this, he supposed.  In a familiar place, by his best friend (although accompanied by the once-removed crowd, names and drama which he generally only heard during lunch-hour gripes), with no solidly ill intent -- that was just about as easy as it got, wasn't it?

But that wasn't what sat ill with him.  One of Sam's friends -- the long-haired one -- had told him outright: the rules of the spell dictated that he couldn't hurt them.  He hadn't wanted to do that, only scare them a little if it made them leave him alone, but he didn't like that she was right.

He'd tried to defy them outright, finding that he just. . . couldn't.  Was that yet-another thing he had to learn how to do?  Worse: was that something he would be saddled with if someone ever did another one of those rituals?  Someone worse, someone who could order him to hurt somebody or. . .

Danny didn't want to think of it.

What if he asked Sam about it, then?  Over lunch or a movie or something, maybe, once he had a straightened-out line of questions to pursue, and so long as he could be sure that she couldn't guess it had to do with that Phantom business.  Now in his room, under less stress and thinking a little better, he supposed he should have handled the ordeal more gently.

But, jesus, being grilled about his own ghostly details was bad enough -- being constricted to the truth, on top of that?   He may as well tell the whole damn town about it.

What if he did tell Sam, though?  Just her -- well, her and Tuck.  If she knew a bonafide ghost summoning ritual, or had friends that did, then she must also know a decent amount that could help him, or at least give him a little bit of a break?

No, he'd decided weeks ago that he couldn't do that.  If he told her and Tuck, he'd have to tell Jazz, he'd have to tell his parents -- and that was where the real problems would crop up.  How was he supposed to explain being dead, but not really, only sometimes, usually when he wanted to but also still by accident, when he didn't even begin to understand it himself?

No, he couldn't tell them, or Jazz. . . or Sam and Tuck.

Even though he was having a hell of a time on his own.

He hadn't meant to slip up, really he hadn't.  Static distortion was, as far as he was concerned, an entirely involuntary function, alongside the chill that even followed him into human form if it decided he wasn't having a terrible enough day.  He was trying his damnedest. . .

. . . but he'd scared each and every one of them just by being there.  Even before any of them had begun to pry, they'd been afraid of him.  There was no hiding it in the way they looked at him (which went double for the rail-thin one, who looked like he'd been trying not to cry the entire time), no disguising the way they flinched just a little every time he spoke.

But, the ghost had delighted in it.  Scare them as much as you want, it whispered, it's good for 'em.

And Danny, scrambling to keep himself together, had let it.

He wanted to apologize to Sam.  He owed her one, even though she wouldn't have the faintest clue where it was coming from.  He thought, somewhat sardonically, that she wouldn't even bat an eye; she teased him sometimes that his knee-jerk reaction was sorry, so she wouldn't think twice about another one that came out of the blue.

But still.

He reached over, pulling open the drawer in his bedside table where he kept his phone.  By now, it was almost one in the morning.  Thank fuck for weekends, otherwise school would have been shaping up to be a proper pain in the ass.

There was a text waiting for him: from Sam, fifteen minutes ago.

He swiped it open: can we hit nb tomorrow ? no tuck. smth went down tonight

Danny stared down at it, in fierce conflict with himself.  He thought of the inevitable disbelief, of having to prove it to her in secret; he thought of having to tell Tuck, because it wouldn't be fair to him otherwise; he thought of the past two hellish months, and of every month after being just as hellish; he thought of what would happen if he solidly, irreversibly lost a fight; he thought of being dragged into another summoning circle, helmed by someone he'd never heard of but who had heard of him; he thought of what his mother would say when she found out her own son had died right under her nose.  He thought of what he'd have to say when Sam told him what had happened.  He thought of sitting there, pretending that he hadn't witnessed it firsthand, nodding along while she lied about how scared she'd been.

Was this really suppsed to be better?

But indecision would get him nowhere.  The longer he sat there, exuding a cold, hollow mist without even realizing it, the more his internal conflict receded.  The last of it swept out like the tide, leaving him not with certainty or sureness -- but at least leaving him with a course of action.

The phone in his hand had gone dark.  He swiped it open again, took a deep breath, knowing that, one way or another, this was going to turn everything on its head.  He texted Sam back, his thumb hesitating for a moment before finally hitting send:

i know. ill see u at nb 🤙

[byeolyeou]

❝ i can feel ye followin' me, 'lil thief . ❞ harry sounds bored , and yet amused - the pirate rolling his neck a little before he turns on his heel , head tipping . he KNOWS jay is there , just out of sight - a smile curling at plush lips .

@sovrumana

[theycallmekaibara]

Your girl always be looking fabulous, but what's her most recent vibe/fit?

Kaibara's wardrobe and style changes these days tend to be wholly dependent on which Nancy Drew game I'm currently in the middle of with my girlies, because we play thru the stories with our OCs in mind, and they do tend to be all-consuming, as such 😌

And of course Kaibara dresses accordingly for every setting! The one we finished most recently was The Haunted Carousel, where the gang was investigating some shenanigans at a pirate/ocean themed amusement park; so Kaibara's fits were very casual and thematically appropriate, unfortunately she quickly had to lose the heels after so much running around LMAO

Before that, the gang was in Paris posing as interns to investigate an eccentric Fashion Designer. I didn't get to draw as much for that one, as I was controlling the game, but I do have this lil doodle: