#the stories they’d tell me when I was young to scare me

[ceo-of-stealing-ur-fucking-teeth]

People talking about honour killings from non-white countries as if some delusional man doesn’t decide to kill his wife or girlfriend here in the west almost every day. As if they get divorced and then decide to kill their ex partner and children. As if parents don’t regularly throw out their children to be homeless for things like teen pregnancy, homosexuality or being transgender, if they don’t beat them, kill them, or drive them to suicide. As if men won’t stalk and kill a woman for being ‘rude’ or telling them no.

We have no moral superiority here. The only reason you care about honour killings is because the people doing them aren’t white. It’s not because it’s femicide or murder in general, because if that was the case, you’d be getting just as outraged about what happens to all women, including black, indigenous and latin, to gay and trans people. You care because it gives you an excuse to be racist. If you have a shit, you’d be fighting all forms of abuse and asking for better resources for everyone.

The only time I ever heard my white, Catholic, middle class family talk about women’s oppression was in regards to the Middle East. They didn’t do anything about it, don’t get me wrong. They didn’t sponsor people looking to escape, or anything useful. They just used the violence committed against women and LGBTQ+ people as a weapon to show how these people deserved to be bombed and harmed and not allowed to be in our country.

You can be critical of violence. I’m not saying you shouldn’t be. But there’s something about glass houses, and rocks, that makes me angry when the only time people seem willing to acknowledge it is to justify cruelty en masse. When I grew up and saw domestic violence statistics, family annihilators, how people talked about the Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women and Two Spirit People, teen pregnancy, and on and on. Too often, people would complain about how barbaric it was that a woman was murdered by her family or husband for bringing ‘dishonor’ on her home, and then turn around and completely ignore their friends and family going down the same path until it was too late. These assholes don’t care about women, they don’t care about anyone. They just want to be cruel.

They just think their version of cruelty is superior somehow because their evil just shoots their wives and daughters instead of stoning them.

[thebestofoneshots]

Gilded Constellations | (wolfstar x reader)

Series Masterlist | Previous episode

Pairing: Wolfstar x Reader Word Count: 8.7 K Warnings: The angst is still angsting Prompt: Alone, desperate, lonely. How did you end up like this? How will you recover? Is recovering even possible? This IS a Wolfstar x reader fic, but it's incredibly slow burn. They won't start all dating each other until we're very deep into the story, but I promise the long wait will be worth it Proofread by Lovely @aremuslupinsimp

Chapter 55: Noone Together

I'm mostly scared, I am mostly unprepared, I'm a mess I lost most of myself as the waves came crashing down, I'm a wreck

I've bought up all my dreams and sold off most my heart I've been lying to myself just to bury all my thoughts

-Mostly (Vian Izac)

Monday, January 10th, 1977

You looked around your trunk until you found something that would look as wizarding as possible. You didn’t want people to spare a second glance your way, so you took a cloak and a pointy hat and pocketed your money in your trousers. There weren’t many students in Diagon at this time of the year, and you did not want to look like one. 

Thankfully you hadn’t gone out with your parents that often since you moved to England and while most people knew Silas had a daughter, they had no idea how she looked. A point in your favour, you wouldn’t have to hide. 

You would have used a warming charm, but bought tea with a warming potion instead. Accidentally burning yourself with Nina’s wand was not the way you wanted to go down. You finished it at the restaurant, the lady who did Tarot readings was sitting with a young woman, probably in her late 20s, and she was reading her cards for her, although she kept looking at you as you drank your tea. Especially when you accidentally picked it up with your injured hand and cursed loud enough for her to catch it. A waiter came around, offering you some food, but you declined, you were far from feeling hungry, if anything, you were still slightly nauseated. You could have done with a drink, though. 

When you were done, you were quick to stand up and leave the inn, walking straight towards Ollivander’s. The shop was closed and you instead walked towards The Apothecary. “I think I’ve sprained my wrist,” you told the young man on the other side of the counter. He had a pair of round glasses that reminded you of James, and short, but elegantly styled hair. 

He extended his hand and you pushed your hand towards it. He adjusted his glasses and stared, moving your hand a little and then passing his wand over it. He nodded. “It seems so. How did you know it was just a sprain and not something else?” 

“I’ve gotten hurt a few times in the past months. It felt like a sprain.” 

He looked at you and smiled. He was handsome. Not nearly as handsome as either Sirius or Remus. Not even as handsome as Minho, or Tom, but he had a straight nose and a charming smile, a la Reyansh Atwal, but Caucasian. “It was a great guess,” he said as he eventually let go of your hand and carefully placed it on the counter. He turned around and started to look through his shelves. 

“Most people come here with a terrible idea of what they have. I had a person with a cold telling me they thought they had dragonpox. And one time a person who said they’d had a broken leg when they had barely a big bruise.” He pulled one of the small doors of a cabinet open and then pulled something from the inside. “Are you from around?” 

“I’ll be staying in London for a couple of days,” you said, as you stared at what he did, almost condescendingly. He seemed to have a bit of trouble while trying to find the right thing, and you had been spoiled with the very capable hands of Madam Pomfrey just weeks past.

He grabbed a thing, and with an air of triumph, turned around. “I think I might have a pixie around here moving all my stuff,” he excused. “It’s harder when you don’t have house elves for help, you know?” 

“I suppose,” you replied, not bothering to fake much interest. 

“Allow me,” he said as he pulled back his sleeves, bending them carefully and methodically. “I’m going to put this ointment on your hand.” You nodded, although you were quite sure an anti-swelling potion, like the one he had on the left side corner would have done the trick. He placed both hands around your wrist and carefully massaged it. While you stared, you could barely stop thinking of Sirius’ firm grip, or the soft way Remus would always hold your hand. 

They are happy now, you reminded yourself, together. 

“And there you go,” he said after finally pulling apart. Your hand was still sore, Pomfrey would have probably had it fixed a lot faster. 

“Thanks,” you said with a half-smile. “Can I also get a Swellendrake Draught?” 

“For your wrist? You won’t be needing that, come back tomorrow and I’ll give you another treatment with the ointment.” 

If only you had a fucking wand, you would have done it all yourself. 

“For someone else,” you lied. “And also some Warming Brew.” 

“Oh,” he adjusted his glasses. “Of course, of course. I was under the impression you were here by yourself.” 

You hummed in return, “How much?” 

You were out of his The Apothecary the second he handed over the change. Your hand was still bringing you a slight discomfort when you used it to push the door open to The Magical Menagerie. Inside you bought food and snacks to feed Reese. An old man with a strong German accent handed you your food and change with a smile and asked you about the type of owl you had. 

You lied, telling him it was a tawny owl, but that she liked fancier treats. Reese was a barn owl, not as common and especially fancy to have as a pet since they were pickier eaters (which meant more money to maintain) and they were incredibly good hunters in low light, which meant they were especially talented at delivering letters. Had you mentioned he was a melanistic barn owl, the man would have probably begged you to meet him (they were even less common and coveted since they could blend into the night almost seamlessly). 

“Well, you better take good care of her,” he said as he packed the bag of treats. “Don’t spoil her too much, either.” 

“I won’t,” you said with a smile and handed him the money. “I’m sure Selig will love these,” you said as you raised the small bag and then walked towards the door, and then as if it were an afterthought, you turned around and looked at him, “Do you happen to know at what time Ollivander’s opens?” 

“Ollivander’s?” he asked and turned to his clock. “He should be opening now, if not you can knock on his window a couple of times, sometimes he falls asleep on his desk.” 

“Thank you,” you said as you walked towards the door. 

“Kein problem, Schatz.” 

Once outside you walked towards Ollivander’s. The door was now open, and a small bell at the top rang as you walked inside. There was no one else, as you expected. And the very peculiar smell of wood and magic prickled your senses as you walked inside. Ollivander, who was looking through some boxes, turned and seemed surprised when he spotted you. 

“Daughter of Silas.” You panicked, thinking you’d have to leave and find somewhere else to stay, perhaps muggle London. Perhaps you could ask that nice girl at Daunt Books if she knew somewhere, even if you’d have to hold back on using magic almost entirely so as not to call the attention of the ministry.  He must have seen the distress in your eyes, your careful stepping back towards the door, ready to run the fuck away, again. “Worry not, Child. I do not have any political affiliations as of now. If you wish for your identity to remain undisclosed, then so shall I maintain it…” He gave you an airy look, as if to make sure you’d stay and then proceeded. “You know, I never forget a wand, and it’s a very peculiar one that you have in your pocket.” 

“It’s not mine,” you said as you pulled Nina’s wand and placed it on his counter. “That’s why I’m here, my wand broke and I need a new one.” 

“I beg to differ,” he said simply, as he stared at Nina’s wand, he was twirling it in his wand, and inspecting the details on it. 

“Pardon?” you asked, confused. 

“You do not need a new one, Child. You said this one isn’t yours, and I beg to differ. Its loyalty belongs entirely to you.” 

You turned to look at him with a frown, “Impossible. I’ve tried using it and I almost got attacked by a chair.”

“You know this is a rather peculiar wand,” he said thoughtfully, almost ignoring what you said entirely. “14 and a half inches, English Oak,” and then, in a much lower tone, he added, “Thestral tail hair.” 

You frowned, “Thestral tail hair?” 

“Indeed, indeed. I too was surprised when the wand picked young and sweet Nina Blythe.” Your breath hitched in your throat when he said her name. He noticed. “That might be why it’s not working for you even though it’s yours.”

“I don’t think I followed.” 

“Thestral tail hair wands are fussy, it is said only witches and wizards who were capable of accepting dеath could use these kinds of wands. Miss Blythe was muggle-born,” he said. “But her father diеd in a car accident when she was about 4 years old, she was in the car with him then, she told me when I told her about core and its meaning. The wand seemed to love her almost instantly.” 

“Accepting dеath?” you mumbled. You didn’t want to do that, you didn’t want to accept what happened, even if it had. Even if you’d seen it, it was easier to pretend it to be just a terrible dream, to ignore it and fake it and–

“I’m afraid so,” Ollivander said. “I believe you’ve had some dreadful encounters with her lately and–” 

“I’d like to get another wand,” you interrupted him, a little rudely. 

“Another wand?”  he asked, confused. 

“Yes, this one won’t work. I’m sure.” 

He hummed at that, something that sounded a bit like he disagreed with you entirely. He picked the wand up again and looked at it closely. “No wand here will ever be as good for you as this particular one,” he said. “You know English Oak has an affinity with magic of the natural world? It is said the Great Merlin had a wand made of Oak.” 

You took a deep breath, and you tried not to grit your teeth, “My wand used to be oak.” 

“And? I believe I did not sell it to you…” 

“No,” you admitted. “We got it while travelling… It was thunderbird tail feather.” 

“Oh, she must have been absolutely delightful to work with,” he said, with a bit of sarcasm. “Did it take you long to get used to her stubbornness?” 

“She was never stubborn with me,” you said simply. 

“You must have had an excellent matching with it then,” he said with a bit of a mischievous smile. “I can assure you it will be as good– if not better with this one. Had you come here before Miss Blythe, you might have taken it yourself. I’d dare say it’s like she was made for you.” 

You looked at the wand with slight reluctance and then picked it up. You pointed at a small pencil on the table and whispered, “Wingardium Leviosa.” Rather than carefully floating as you intended for it to do, the pencil flew backwards and stabbed one of the shelves with a sharp thud. You quickly left the wand on the table again. “See?! it’s pointless.” 

Ollivander used his wand and whispered “Reparo,” allowing the shelf to restore itself and the pencil to return to its spot. “I’m afraid you have to accept what’s happened for her to work properly. But I cannot sell you another wand.” 

“Then how?” You said, slightly exasperated. 

“Sit down, and cast small spells with her. Like this one–” 

“I could have stabbed someone!” 

“Nature Magic has strong connections with emotions. Perhaps the magic is so aggressive because you feel like you need such protection.” 

You sighed, you’d come for a wand, not for therapy. 

“Fine then,” you said as you grabbed the wand, you were cross, Ollivander could tell. “I’ll see if I can get her to work.” 

“I’m certain you will.” 

You scoffed and shook your head as you walked out of the store. There was no way in hell you managed to do a Protean charm without a properly functioning wand, so you’d have to buy the enchanted items. 

There weren’t many places in which you’d be able to get such powerful and unorthodox magical things, but you had been paying attention and you had heard the whispers. You thought of it as your last resource since it was popular for being a reunion point for dark wizards, but you were running out of options. You’d have to pay a visit to Knockturn Alley. 

As you stepped out of Ollivanders, you blinked a few times and started to walk around. It was almost midday, and the streets were buzzing with witches and wizards, far more than there were earlier in the morning. You walked, accidentally bumping your shoulder with other people when you were pushed around. 

You knew Knockturn Alley was hidden, but it took you at least an hour to find it. It was still day, but the alley was dark, poorly lit and rather lonely. You saw a few Wizards walking inside a store that looked somewhat like a bar, one of them felt familiar enough, like he might have been at the Christmas Party. You turned your face and stared at the window of one of the shops. 

You had not seen the Borgin and Burkes logo at the top, since you had turned as fast as possible but you did see the small price ticket on one of the items in display. It read: Borgin and Burkes: Oddments and Artefacts. And then underneath it: Rarities of the best kind, antiques, charmed items, cursed jewellery and more.

The perfect place, you pretended to look through the window a bit more and when you made sure he was gone, you turned towards the door and walked inside. “Are you lost?” A young man asked from behind the counter, he had brown hair and a disagreeable face. 

“I’m exactly where I want to be,” you retorted. “I’m looking for an item,” you said, “Or rather two. They need to have a protean charm in between them.” 

The man nodded “Jewellery, a journal, matching skulls, a book or bottles?” 

“Journal,” you said. He pulled out a black journal, it had golden metal trims and a name engraved at the back.

“This one belongs to someone,” you complained as you handed it back to him. 

“But it has nothing written on it,” he retorted and pushed it back at you. You looked at the journal impassively and took it in your hands. You could feel the dark magic screaming inside of it, like it was imploring to be released, you placed it back on the table. “I don’t want it. Anything else?” 

The man grumbled something that you didn’t understand, took the journal, and placed it back onto his counter. Pulling out a pair of cufflinks, to which you shook your head. He rolled his eyes and walked towards the back of the store. You took the time to look through the things they had around. You knew better than to get too close to some of them, specifically the item named “Hand of Glory” which also had some kind of magic attached to it. 

You looked at it with an air of disgust before you continued walking, they had candles, some Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder, which you thought would be useful so you bought two bags, and there was a massive display with jewellery too. You leaned in closer, and without touching anything, started to read the label: A ring of oblivion (whoever wore it would forget everything that happened while wearing it), a pair of bad luck cufflinks, awfully similar to the ones the man had offered earlier, a magic absorbing necklace, a hairpin that would let you change your appearance, a pair of blinding glasses (they would disappear whatever you wanted from your field of vision)– hold up. A hairpin that could change your appearance? 

You looked at it again and picked it up, moving towards one of the huge mirrors and placing it on your hair. Suddenly you weren’t you anymore, you were still a woman, your age, but you looked nothing like yourself and everything like someone you wouldn’t spare much attention to. Not ugly but not pretty either, in fact, when you removed the pin and saw yourself again, you had almost forgotten what the other face looked like. 

“Fascinating item, isn’t it?” the man asked with a smile. “And much easier than making polyjuice.” 

You nodded and then turned to him. “Did you find anything?” 

“This,” he said as he pulled out a pair of earrings. You looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “These were designed for listening in to conversations. You ‘accidentally’ drop one of them and you can hear what they’re saying on the other side. I assume that will satisfy your requirements of communication.” 

“It might,” You responded, “Does it work backwards? Do both of them do it?” 

“Indeed.” 

You nodded, “I’ll take them, and the Peruvian Powder and the hairpin.” 

He smiled and wrote on a small piece of paper your total amount. You paid, and walked towards the door. When you spotted the same man from earlier loitering outside of the bar, you eyed the man in the store nervously and then turned to one of his trinkets. “What is this?” you asked as you looked at a large, triangular-shaped closet. 

The man smiled and walked behind you, “Vanishing Cabinet, they’re becoming really popular lately, lots of people want them in their house in case of a Dеath Eater attack.” 

You swallowed, he was careful when he said those last few words, as if he was trying to feel out which side of the war you played on. Thankfully, if there was anything you had learned from Silas, was that to be a good politician; you’d had to lie, and you had to lie so much lately, that it came almost naturally from you. “I bet,” you said with a mischievous smile. “Does this one work?” You asked as you looked at the small chip on the side and allowed the little bit of wood to rise and then return to its place. 

The man smiled, “As a matter of fact, it does not, a Witch brought a week ago for us to fix it, but it seems someone put a course on it, dark magic, in fact.” 

“Well,” you looked over your shoulder, the man was gone. “Good luck with that, eh… Mr. Borgin?” 

“Burke,” he corrected with an askew smile. Clearly, after he made the sale, he was not in such a terrible mood. And it had been a big sale. You still had enough cash to get by, but you’d need more for the rest of the year. You took a deep breath, you’d have to go to Gringotts. You had your own vault, which was great. Unfortunately, the minute you went, your father would probably know you’d visited, so it had to be the very last thing you did. 

“Then thank you for your help, Mr. Burke.” 

“Mr. Burke was my father, call me Kieran.” 

You frowned but smiled, pulling out a bit of that charm you had used too often with adults, it wouldn’t hurt to have an ally or two in case things went awry. 

“Thank you, Kieran,” you said and then nodded at him politely, a small smile playing on your lips as you left the place. You were quick, but calm as you exited the shop, and the minute you were out of Kieran’s sight, you put on your new hairpin and mixed yourself in between the people. 

You walked back to the Inn, took the pin off before stepping inside the Leaky Cauldron and walked straight to your room. You hadn’t eaten, and frankly, you still didn’t want to eat. You walked back to the room, and Reese was by the window with a small pack of chocolates and a small note attached to them. He flew towards your place on the bed with it and took his own place on the bed. 

“Hey, little one,” you said with a smile as you brushed your hand over his head the way you knew he liked it, and pulled open one of the bags you had to give him a couple of treats. He chirped joyfully when you did, and then leaned down and pecked the letter with his beak, reminding you to open it. 

You sighed but did it, taking the note and unfolding it. 

Are they feeding you well where you are? They better be. But I know how much you love these sweets, so I stole them from Remus to send them over. I’ll check the chimney at night, I’m sure you’ll have figured out a more than clever way to keep in touch. 

Remus and Sirius are still whispering about each other, It’s like they’re scheming something, and frankly, I’ve been feeling slightly excluded. Will you tell me what happened when we find a better way to communicate? But more important than anything, HOW ARE YOU? 

Prongs xx  

You smiled and wrote a quick note telling him to clip the earring on at about 8 pm, you sent it along with a thank you for the chocolates and then (as a joke, but not actually) asked him if he had some booze. You let Reese go back to the Potters, after giving him some more treats and walked toward the fireplace to turn it on since the temperature was going out as fast as the sunlight.

Thankfully, it was a lot easier this time around, and you curled up, staring blankly at the flames for some time. You had never been this quiet, this inactive. At Hogwarts, you were always distracted by one thing or the other. At the boys’ houses, they were the ones constantly creating new games and things, or talking or telling you something, or even reminding you of homework and things you had to finish, things you had to accomplish. 

But there, alone in the warm, but still isolated floor, you didn’t have anything to do, and you didn’t want to do anything either. You tried to pick up a book from your suitcase but abandoned it a little after. You took the journal Lily had given you and wrote barely half a page when tears started to prickle your eyes and you abandoned it as well. You couldn’t listen to music, and you didn’t even feel like trying to get Nina’s wand to work, not with what it entailed. 

Yeah, avoiding your feelings allowed you to be able to sit straight and do all the things you’d done without breaking apart, but it was also stopping you from properly processing shit, and so, rather than thinking and crying or whatever, you sat, and blankly leered at the dancing golds and yellows and reds, throwing some wood to liven up the flames as you stared, sad and disoriented, until it was eight o’clock. 

You picked up the earring and put it on your ear. On your free ear, you had the crackling of fire, on the other one, you heard the wind blow, heavy and thick, the hauntingly beautiful sound you often heard when you were flying, you missed that too. 

There was a doubtful tasking on the other side, before, clear as day you heard, “Vixen?” 

“Prongs,” you said, you couldn’t help the smile that formed on your lips. You had been so alone all afternoon, that hearing James had filled you with joy. James, on the other hand, sounded a little cross. 

“What the fuck happened?” He asked. You heard the wind become stronger, he was probably flying further away from his house. “We were all at the party and then you go upstairs and then Sirius and Remus are banging on doors and then you’re gone. I was worried sick. They didn’t want to tell me what the fuck happened and–” 

“Don’t worry about it,” you said simply. “Sirius and I–” There was a pang in your heart when you said that as if you shouldn’t say those names together. “It was nothing,” you sighed, “but we aren’t a thing anymore.” 

“I figured out as much,” James said, still angry. “Why? I thought you loved each other. I mean didn’t the two of you fuck at the fae pool just a couple of days ago? Was it because of that? Because if you thought he was bad I’m sure he can learn and–” James was rambling. 

“It was not about that!” you said before he kept going. “And we didn’t end it because he broke my heart, it was I who broke both of ours.” You sighed. “But it is for the best–” 

“Like shit, it is for the best!” James retorted. “What happened?” 

If James didn’t know, you couldn’t out them. “It’s not my secret to tell.” 

“Vixen,” he said impatiently.

“James, if this is all you’re going to talk about–” 

“No wait!” He rushed out. “How are you?” 

“I’m fine,” you said, you were sitting on the wooden floor, looking at the fire, you hadn’t eaten, and you hadn’t even showered (you didn’t want to stop smelling the Sirius and Remus in your clothes).

You heard a hesitant sigh on the other side. “Can’t I come visit?” 

“No.” 

“Why not?” 

“My mom’s friend is a bit paranoid about what happened at Christmas,” you lied. How easy did the lies come to you now, one after the other, like a parade, they rolled off your tongue and sounded loud by the end of your lips, as simple as if it were truth. Suppose telling someone you didn’t love them when you both knew you did was all it took to become such a brilliant liar. 

“Do you want to talk about that?” 

You hadn’t wanted to talk about it, not even when you actually had talked about it with Remus. Rather than responding, you changed the subject, “What did you boys do today?” 

Thankfully, James knew how to take a hint –sometimes– and he thought allowing you to process things was best either way, at your own pace. “Well, we had breakfast together and did some flying afterwards. Sirius was going really fast, I think it might have been the fastest he’s ever flown. Remus kept shouting at him to stop being an idiot and slow down.” 

“We then went back inside and Remus recommended that I read a book, but I think he just wanted me to get out of the way so he could talk to Sirius again. I wrote a letter to Lily, thanking her for coming to the party yesterday and telling her you were all right. She’s also worried and wants to contact you.” 

“Tell her I’m good,” you said. “That I cannot get letters at the moment.” 

“Already have,” he sighed. “Anyway, Remus and Sirius are awfully suspicious. Sitting close and whispering about. Can you really not tell me what happened?” 

“I’m sorry,” you said. And you really were, you wanted someone to talk to about this, but as far as you knew, you were the only person who knew about Sirius’ bisexuality and among the few that knew about Remus’. “That’s got to do with something that happened between them, I cannot talk about it.” 

“But you do know what it is!” James delated. There was still wind, and it carried his voice out a little but you could still hear the intonations you were so familiar with, you knew what he meant. 

“But if you ever do find out, then they must be the ones to tell you, James.” 

He sighed in response, leaning in on his broom and banging his head against the handle. It seemed like every single person around him was sad, and he couldn’t do a damn thing about it. He hated it. He wanted things to go back to normal, for you to be here, and for both you and Sirius to be all over each other. 

Even if he kept complaining about it, he secretly loved seeing you all happy. Even when you cuddled Moony together, invading their room, he felt it wasn’t that often that he saw Moony smile, but he was always smiling when you and Sirius were around, even when you were being annoying by asking him to read you something or convincing him to help with homework or something similar. 

“Fine, whatever,” he responded, trying not to sound too cross, he knew you mustn’t have been that well off, he could also hear your voice over the crackling of the fire, and even if you kept claiming to be alright, there was something near the end of your words, not a crack but something almost imperceptible that told him otherwise. 

He’d seen you get hit by quaffles and he’d seen you get hit by bludgers, and he’d seen you getting scratched by a werewolf. He’d seen you tired and desperately scribbling on parchment after forgetting homework. Your “All rights” had never sounded as hollow to him before. So devoid of meaning, so filled with air he was sure he could poke a hole and disinflate them entirely. 

Of course, James didn’t want that. The last thing he wanted was to push you into desperation by asking and asking questions like he used to do all the time. “Did you like the chocolate?” 

“Yeah,” you responded. “Did you get me the Booze? Will you send it over with Reese?” 

“I don’t think that’s the best idea–”  

“Oh, shut up, you’re not my mum,” you said automatically, flipping back to your old self before realising what you had said. No, James was not your mum, you didn’t have one anymore.

James hesitated, he heard the silence, the popping and hissing of the fire next to you and knew you were both thinking the same thing, he bit his lip. “I’ll get you your booze.” 

You took off the earring and promised to talk to him again tomorrow in the morning, at about 9, before the boys woke up, so they wouldn’t suspect if James went flying earlier. He could always say he had wanted to entertain himself while they slept. 

After your conversation, he flew down and looked through his stuff in the kitchen until he found an old flask and filled it up with his father’s Firewhisky. He knew you liked it and he knew he liked it. He then put it in a small bag and handed it to Reese. 

When he walked into the room, he saw Sirius writing something on a piece of paper and Remus correcting his words. They both were on edge and looked like they were about to go at each other’s throats. 

“What are you doing?” James asked, confused.

Sirius looked at him, worry in his gaze, and he placed a blank parchment on top of the other one. “I’m writing something for her,” he said simply. 

“And I can’t see it?” 

“No,” Sirius said plainly. 

“But Remus can?  I see how things are.” 

“James,” Sirius reproached, “I promise you would hate to be involved in this in the way Remus is.” 

“Well at least he’s not kept in the dark about it,” James retorted viciously. Sirius had always gone to him with his problems, he didn’t understand what this thing with Remus was, and he didn’t quite like it either. Whatever had happened, you had left his house because of the two of them, and you were far from the “All right!”  you kept claiming to be.

“That’s not fair,” Sirius replied. 

Remus stood up hastily. “This is none of my business.” 

“This is ALL of your business!” James said sternly. “I can’t be the only one that’s fucking worried about her!” Sirius scoffed and Remus remained silent as he threw a look at James. If only he knew. “I thought you were her best friend.” He threw an accusatory finger at Remus. “You’re always around, teaming up on every fucking project. You were there after the fucking Christmas Party. Why haven’t you even tried to contact her?” 

“We’ve tried!” Remus responded, voice louder. “Sirius has even tried to do whatever the hell he did with the necklace and all we get is a stupid fire and my fucking jumper. Why haven’t you tried to contact her?” 

“I have,” James said. 

“And? No answer, right?” Prongs did not say further. “Merlin knows where she might have gone off to. We might not see her again ‘til school and it’s all my fucking fault.” 

“What?” James asked, confused, he thought it was Sirius and you thing not a Sirius and Remus and you thing. Sirius threw a reproaching arm slap at Remus and James sighed. “You know what? I don’t care. If you all don’t want to tell me what the fuck happened then it’s going to be on you to fix it.” 

Sirius groaned and leaned his head over his knees. Remus gave him a pitiful look and James walked out of the room. When he was gone, Remus placed a reassuring hand over Sirius’ back. Sirius hated how damn good it felt. 

“It’s okay,” he said softly. “You’ll get her back, we’ll find a way.” 

“She’s convinced we like each other, she wouldn’t have left if she wasn’t.” 

“Then we prove her wrong, Pads.” 

“It’s not going to work,” he said and turned his head to look at Remus. His cheek was half squashed on his knee and some of his hair was covering his soft features, but Remus could easily see the glistening wet eyes.

He placed his hand on Sirius’ face and carefully pushed some of the hair back, he was being as gentle and reassuring as he had been with you the past couple of weeks, and he found himself thinking something eerily similar to what he did when he held your crying frame. 

He hated himself for thinking of how beautiful Sirius looked, for how much he wanted to kiss him and comfort him. He hated that you were right, that he really did like Sirius and it was worse to know that Sirius liked him back and that neither of them would ever do anything about it because neither of them wanted to hurt you. He forced his hand back and onto his knee, tapping on it with his index nervously. Sirius sighed a pained expression on his face, mirroring almost perfectly the one on Remus’. 

You had all reached a dеad end. You refused to go back to Sirius because your best friend was in love with him, and you thought Remus deserved the world. Sirius refused to chase his feelings for Remus because he loved you, and he wouldn’t dare to see you sad. He wanted you back. And lastly, Remus refused to lean closer and place a kiss on Sirius’ lips like he was so tempted to do, because he knew you loved him, and there was no way in hell he’d ever hurt you, you had gone through enough, seeing your boyfriend with your best friend might as well be the last straw. 

But what about Sirius? Yeah, you were thinking of him, since you thought he liked Remus and he would be happier with him. And of course, Remus was thinking of Sirius, he did all the time, but what both you and Remus failed to realise was how much strain you were putting on him. He was in love with his two best friends, and there was no way he could be with one without hurting the other.  

You had made the choice for him, you had taken his agency and stepped out of the way. But Sirius did not want that, neither did Remus. Heck, not even you –with your staggering determination to make them both happy– actually wanted to leave him. 

The problem was that none of you would talk about your feelings to each other, because no one wanted to be vulnerable. No one was ready to risk your friendship and hearts in the process. And as a result, you were all miserable. 

And Remus, poor Remus wouldn’t even say that he liked you as much as he liked Sirius because if things had gone awry with you just believing he liked Sirius, he assumed that coming clean would only complicate shit further and make everyone even more miserable. 

The three of you were sinking, grappling at each other to try and save them but only succeeding in dragging them towards the bottom. A hard, determined grip that was causing all of you to drown in an ocean of emotions. But the three of you were bigger than the sea you were sinking in, all you had to do was open your hearts and sing their longings. Only then would you realise the three of you had the ability to breathe underwater and to love more than one at the same time.

Tuesday, January 11th, 1977

You woke up on the floor, you were sore and had a terrible headache. You removed the sweater from your face and winced as the light passed through the window. You had spent the previous night trying to get Nina’s wand to work, but other than getting it to do a very dim, almost useless Lumos, you had gotten nowhere. 

You sat up on the floor a little too fast and your head spun. You had drank the flask James had sent you and upon wanting to swallow your sorrows, used the hairpin to buy a bottle of whatever they had available at the Leaky Cauldron. It was terrible, probably adulterated or mixed up with some drunk-inducing potion. It had tasted like shit, and yet you had drank half of the bottle while you kept trying for the wand to work. 

After a particularly disastrous try that had you walk back to the room with a small jar of water, you threw the entire bottle into the fire in fury and had to drink the weird-tasting water from the Inn. You didn’t even have anything to take to subdue your hangover (evidently exacerbated due to the fact that you had refused to eat at all that Saturday). And you still weren’t hungry. 

When you managed to walk towards the bathroom you realised you had stained the band shirt from Sirius you’d been wearing and almost broke down to cry again. You didn’t want to wash it, but you’d have to wash it, there was no way you used a cleaning spell since your fucking wand was broken and Nina’s still refused to fucking collaborate. You washed your face and your teeth –your breath was disgusting up until then. Then you sat on the toilet seat and stared at the wall while you tried to recollect your thoughts. 

You’d have to go back to Hogwarts tonight, the train was almost always the best way to travel there, but you didn’t want to see the boys, and you had heard the Knight Bus drove to Hogsmeade, and from there you could walk all the way to the castle. 

But it’s cold, a little voice in your head said. Either way, unless you got the wand to work for you, there was no way in hell you could use a disillusionment charm to walk towards the Honeydukes passage, and you weren’t sure you’d be able to take the one at the Shrieking Shack since they had used new spells to close it.

You sighed and stood up, putting the bits and trinkets you had taken out of your trunk back into it and closing it. You wrote a small apology letter for the chair and left a couple of galleons for the cleaning lady that would have to fix it with reparo. You checked under the bed to make sure you had everything with you and handed your suitcase (whose levitation spell had not worn off as of yet) to Reese. 

Once you knew you were ready you took your bag –the one with the undetectable extension charm– and slung it around your shoulder. You knew it wasn’t going to be easy to walk inside Gringotts without calling too much attention, so you dug deeper into the bag and pulled out James’ Felix Felicis. It was as you were looking at it that you remembered that you had promised to talk to him in the morning.

You cursed under your breath and dug through your pockets to try and find the earring and put it on hastily. 

“James?” you asked in a low tone, almost hesitantly. 

“Vixen?!” you heard from the other side. 

“What?” you heard Sirius's voice. “Where?” he added, and then there was more shuffling. 

“No,” James said. “I meant– I meant to look at this,” he added, taking something from the table. “She used to love it.” 

Remus gave him a distasteful look, and Sirius looked at him with a saddened sort of expression. You, on the other side of the spell, didn’t say a word.

“Maybe next time don’t say her name like that?” Remus suggested. You would be lying if you said that hadn’t felt like a cold bucket of water thrown straight in your face. I mean, it makes sense he wouldn’t want to hear about his new boyfriend’s ex but– you… you were friends. 

James, who had absolutely no context of the situation just scoffed, you heard a chair groan as he stood up. “The both of you are absolutely impossible,” he added. “Write her a fucking letter.” 

“I have, I don’t have a fucking address to send it!” Sirius retorted. James just walked out. You heard a door, and then running water. Probably a faucet. 

Then he muttered a silencing incantation and sighed. “What the fuck, Vixen?!? You said 9! It’s almost twelve.”

“I’m sorry–” 

“I was worried!” 

“I’m fine,” you lied, James knew it. He couldn’t see you, but your voice had that slight drag it had when you were upset. 

James let out an exasperated sigh, “You didn’t drink the entire flask, did you?” 

“No,” you lied again, turning the flask upside down and looking at the small drop of fire whiskey that fell from it. It wasn’t entirely a lie. 

There was silence, “We’re taking the train today, will I see you there?” 

“Probably not,” you responded. “I think they might take me to Hogsmeade.” 

“Want me to pick you up at Honeydukes?” 

“Please!” There was silence. “But James… Just you, is that okay?” 

He sighed. “You won’t fix things if you don’t talk to each other.” 

James Potter, the voice of reason, ladies and gentlemen (and anyone in between). 

“We just need a little bit more time,” you said tentatively. “You’ll come alone then?” 

“Fine,” he said, completely unconvinced. 

“Thank you, James.” 

“Don’t do anything stupid while you wait,” he warned. 

You scoffed, “Look who’s talking.”

“See you around,” he said at last. You took the earring off and placed it in your pocket. 

You walked downstairs, handed the key to the man on the counter, and walked outside. You blended in the mix of people and walked straight towards Gringotts. You didn’t know if your father had placed alarms or anything similar, if he would know you’d been there or if he had forgotten that he’d given you the vault altogether, but you knew you had to be fast either way. In and out, if nobody noticed, then it would be for the best. If only you could use your wand, things would be easier. 

The long white building stood ahead of you. Threatening like an ancient mausoleum filled with secrets and pitfalls. You had never entered, but you had heard of it plenty. You remembered your mother telling you all about the Goblins and their rebellions and how they were in charge of the most important Magic Bank in England. You took a deep breath and walked inside. The luxurious golden columns were the first thing that you spotted. Tall and mighty, rows and rows of them walking through the long and wide corridor. 

You walked inside as if you knew the place, you had to enter the vault since asking for money directly might not have been as easy, you were sure you had accounts to your name, but a large withdrawal would be a lot more evident if you did it through the goblins than if you walked inside your vault, and placed most of the money there. 

You walked all the way to the end of the long hall and smiled politely at a hostile-looking goblin. You could see on his name tag the name Thracknok. He finished stamping a paper and looked up at you with a grin that looked more sinister than welcoming. “How may I help?” he asked in a garrulous and nasal tone, every word clipped.

“I would like to access my vault,” you said as you took out your key and showed it to him. “It’s the 718.” 

“Top security?” The goblin replied. 

You nodded, breath as steady as possible. “I have been sent by my father,” you lied. And then you focused on your voice, you remembered what you’d done to Remus, the intonation, the way in which you had charmed him, and channelled it again. “You must take me there.” 

Thracknok nodded, his gaze slightly lost, “I must,” he agreed. 

By the time he turned around and took the key you’d given him from the counter, you let out a nervous breath and followed him. He took you all the way into a small, mine-like cart, and motioned for you to sit. In a matter of seconds, you were coursing at top speeds through tunnels and wide-opened spaces. You saw a dragon and went through a waterfall. Thracknok seemed disoriented for barely a second after that, but he continued with his task. 

Fae magic and wizard magic, although similar, were not exactly the same, and the Thief’s Downfall had not affected your charm almost at all. Now you had no idea why that waterfall was there, but you had focused on one thing throughout the trip and it was those same words that you’d told Thracknok from behind the counter ‘You must take me there.’

You weren’t entirely sure what you were doing, but something deep inside you told you that you had to be precise with this. Eventually, the cart stopped, right in front of a pair of twin vaults 718 and 719. Both had your last name written at the top. 

The goblin approached one of the vaults and placed the key, the vault opened, intricate metal pieces slowly moving to the side, and allowing you in. 

“I’ll be outside,” the goblin said and turned around for you to walk in. You walked inside your vault, it was filled with both things you had and hadn’t seen. There were piles of galleons in the corners and several other magical items scattered all around. There were goblets, and jewellery, a bunch of enchanted items. You could feel their magic, even if you weren’t sure what most of them did. You swallowed and picked a handful of galleons and threw them in your bag, then another one and then another one. You hadn’t even made a dent in the pile, but you had enough to get by for the rest of the school year and then some. 

You turned to the massive grandfather clock in the corner of the room, it had taken you exactly three minutes and 15 seconds to fill your bag. It hadn’t been that long, you wanted your whole incursion at Gringotts to last no more than 30 minutes, and so far, you were doing an excellent job. You took a deep breath and started looking around. You avoided touching any of the jewellery in case it had tracking spells, but you looked over the rest of the things. Some things had belonged to your Mum, fae relics, and then there were other things that belonged to your dad’s side of the family, ancient jewellery, a game of chess made out of gold, a star trapped in a ring whose shine was almost blinding and even a couple of old books on fae magic your father had bought and studied when he married your mother.  

And that’s when you thought about his letter again, the one where he’d told you that he needed space on the family vault for something else. You had thought it was odd then, you even suspected he might be hiding something important. But now that you saw all those fae items and books, you knew that whatever he must have hidden in there was powerful, so powerful it might have been used as a weapon. 

What was that old saying? Curiosity kiIIed the cat? Perhaps you should have resisted the urge to find a way inside the other vault, perhaps you should have just walked out of the bank, gone straight towards a small street and called for the Knight Bus. But it was the oddness of all those precious items being taken out and thrown somewhere else, of those items being replaced by something else. There had to be a reason, and you had to see what it was.

You looked around inside the vault, you had read a book about twin vaults, some of them were connected upon the request of their owners. Now, you didn’t see a straight connection between them, but you were certain your father would be the type of person to request such a thing, in the strange scenario he had to get out of the vault a different way than the one he got in. 

You took a deep breath and paid attention to everything. The secret passages in your old house had always been odd. The classic book was not secretive enough for Silas. He liked to use weirder things, books that hid information, candies that unlocked secret doors (but only if you put the right amount of them on the scale), elaborate puzzle games that would only open the passage if you followed the exact amount of steps to solve them. 

When you were smaller, before the trip to the Occultum and before his political ambitions took over his personality, the two of you used to do puzzles together, elaborate and complicated sorts of puzzles that were far above your age range. But Silas didn’t care, he would convince you to keep trying and trying until you found the way to solve them. Whenever you did solve a puzzle, Silas would smile and praise his talented daughter, tell her how brilliant she was, and then he would give you a wish in return. A wish, you thought. 

Right in the middle of the bookshelf, there was a simple book, with the word ‘Wish’ written on its spine. You looked at it for a couple of seconds before you decided to approach it, it was in slow and tentative steps that you reached the shelf and took it in your hands. You swallowed and opened the book. 

There was only one written page in the entire book, and it was a riddle.

In shadows deep and whispers soft, A secret lies, though hidden oft. Through twists and turns of mind and fate, Seek the truth, but never late. In echoes old and dreams untold, The key awaits, in tales of old. Through trials dire and trials fair, Only the wise shall find it there. In silence vast and darkness deep, The answer lies, in dreams asleep. But wake ye now, and heed the call, For time is short, and darkness falls. Three paths diverge, yet all converge, To where the truth and secrets surge. Choose wisely, seeker, lest you fail, And in the end, your efforts pale."

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A/N: I questioned myself for making them suffer so much while revising this chapter. Some of Sirius' words are just heart wrenching to me, I swear <3

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[writing-until-i-drop]

The Devil Doc & The Flyboy | Sneak Peek

Hangman x Marine Corpsman-Devil Doc!OC

Every time Fiona "Kitten" Reid is deployed, something bad happens. Win-a-medal type bad. And when Warlock is looking for a survivalist instructor for the Daggers during the uranium mission, he's shocked that the top recommendation from his colleagues is a young medical corpsman the Marines she served with dubbed "Kitten." After making a grand entrance at the expense of Jake's older brother and Bob's sanity, Fiona finds herself squarely in Hangman's sights. But he better pay attention in class because her lessons come from more than a textbook...

“Corpsman Reid, at ease.” The Rear Admiral better known as Warlock motioned for her to take a seat. It was the first time that morning she was happy to be in uniform, she would have felt naked in scrubs. 

“Sir,” She dug her short nails into her palm under the table, keeping her composure even as her pulse skyrocketed. You’re a marine, she chided herself, get a damn grip. She felt like the kid she had been before her first deployment with a marine detachment. A timid, little midwestern girl who didn’t drink or curse. The rough necks had had a fun time breaking her in. 

They jokingly called her Kitten. As in a scared little kitten afraid of her own shadow. Then the worst had happened and they’d discovered that the kitten had claws. That’s when she became one of them, a marine. She felt the ghostly weight of two hands on her shoulders and sat a little straighter, meeting the Vice Admiral’s gaze head-on.

“I read your file, corpsman but your ribbon rack tells one hell of a story on its own.”

“Oorah, sir.”

“Two Purple Hearts, three bronze stars with combat valor, if you weren’t a corpsman you’d be well on your way to admiralty and a senate seat.” She must not have done a good job at disguising her disgust at being part of the brass, Warlock’s laughter filling the room.

“I asked for a shortlist of men for a special assignment and imagine my surprise when the first recommendation from a general was someone named Kitten.” Aw fuck. 

Fiona’s smile couldn’t be helped. General Matteo Alverez. He had visited her detachment in Iraq for a dog and pony show and when things went south, as they always seemed to do when she was involved, he’d seen Fiona in action, running towards danger with a stethoscope around her neck.

“Am I going brown side out again, sir?” She could already feel the sand in her boots from another desert deployment. “Give the word.” She wanted him to give it to her straight. As much as she wanted to stay, she would always go if the Navy asked her to.

“I’m sure you’ve heard the scuttlebutt about a classified flight mission,” Warlock raised a white brow, knowing nothing classified stayed fully secret in a town like North Island. She nodded. “Enemy territory is a rough place to be,” Rough was putting it lightly in her experience and opinion. “I want you to prepare them, teach them how to survive. No manual, no guidelines, your experience will be their gospel.”’ That was…insane. She wasn’t an instructor. She would run towards live fire, snap a man’s neck, and put her phone on the bar when Penny wasn’t looking. She was used to doing dangerous and ill-advised things. But teach?

“Sir, I-”

“Before you respond, the General said to remind you that a true marine never runs from a fight.” Fiona sighed,

“Aye aye, sir. Just don’t give me a big chicken dinner when I kill your flyboys’ egos.” Warlock laughed, spilling coffee on his pristine uniform.

“If you can do that, I’ll give you another damn medal for doing the impossible.” 

Big chicken dinner = Bad conduct discharge

Scuttlebutt = gossip

Can't wait for more? Let me know, I'll add you to the taglist.

Fiona and Jake's story is going to have mentions of combat, war, torture (nothing too graphic), too many Navy/Marine inaccuracies to count (I'm doing a lot of research though), plenty of good times at the Hard Deck, Warlock being an enabler, and Jake being the next in a long line of Top Gun students to be hot for teacher.

[riordanness]

safe and sound — [w.wonka]

wordcount: 1.2K

warnings: anxiety and depression implied

requested: no

Some days were bad. Some days were unbearable. Today was the absolute hardest and worst of all.

I sit on my bed, legs drawn up to my chest, trying to breathe. My chest feels too tight, too unwilling to allow air through to my lungs. My breaths come in short, painful gasps.

I have panic attacks a little too often, but recently they’ve been getting worse. Almost every night I end up like this, the long day of much-too-hard-work and pretending everything is fine coming to a crumbling heap in my secluded space in the darkness.

Even Noodle doesn’t know, and we tell each other everything. She’s like a little sister to me, being the only one even remotely near my age.

I close my eyes, leaning my head back against the wall. I try to even my breathing, but it’s so, so hard. I know I can’t keep going on like this. I need help, desperately.

I get to my feet, a little unsteady. What if I go and just ask? I’m fairly close to everyone here; surely they’d be willing to help me? Surely Noodle or Piper would be able to help me calm down enough to fall asleep tonight—my biggest struggle at the moment.

Then, suddenly, an idea comes to me. What about Willy?

The young chocolate maker has only been here a few months, but we’re grown fairly close. He tells me stories about all his travels while we work in the washrooms, and in return, I am telling him stories from books; teaching him to read and write.

He is only a year or so older than me, if I’m correct in thinking that my birthday must have passed by now, and that I am now eighteen years old.

If I’m being honest, he’s kind of become my best friend. No offence to Noodle of course, I adore her, but it’s different with Willy. He understands me so naturally, so easily. Every time we talk it flows smoother than the chocolates Willy makes for me to try, and I never run out of things to say.

I subconsciously run my hands through my hair, and brush down my nightgown’s skirts. I gently push open my door, peeking out, and stepping out into the corridor as quietly as I can.

Willy’s door is only three down from mine, so I’m there in no time. I stand outside for a moment, suddenly nervous. But then I softly open it, swinging the door open.

It’s very dark in Willy’s room, just like it is in all the rooms overnight. There’s no reliable lighting at all, so everyone sleeps in total darkness, even Noodle, who I know is scared of the dark. She sleeps with her door open.

Willy doesn’t have a curtain, however, so the nights when the moonlight is good are washed with a little lighting.

I step around the door, gingerly shutting it behind me. I can only see a tiny outline of Willy, sleeping peacefully in his bed. A sliver of moonlight falls on his face, a singular curl on his forehead.

I don’t want to disturb him, but my heart still beats way too fast; and I know his presence and touch will immediately ease my scattered thoughts.

“Willy?” I whisper, almost too quiet to even hear it myself.

But somehow, impossibly, he stirs. He drags himself

to his elbows. “Y/n?” he asks into the dark. “Are you okay? Did something happen?”

I’m about to shake my head, but instantly, I feel the hard lump growing in my throat again, and my chest tightening up. I start to cry, and even though it’s silent, Willy is immediately up and at my side, holding my face in both his hands.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he hushes. “It’s okay. It’s okay, sweetheart. Don’t cry, please don’t cry.”

I can’t stop though, and his sweet words only make the tears come faster. It’s like my body is forcing all the worry and anxiety out of me, but the only way to do that is to cry.

I jolt forward and clutch at Willy, hugging him around the middle so tight I’m almost scared I’ll hurt him. His arms hold me just as securely, though. Willy, without me having to say anything, just instinctively stays quiet as he holds me. My face is buried in his white shirt, my tears probably wetting it through, but he doesn’t mention it.

Once my cries slow down to nothing but hiccups, he gently pulls me away just enough to look into my face. “What’s wrong, love?” he asks me again, his tone and words so gentle and caring it almost sends me into tears again.

I shrug helplessly. “I… I just���“

He seems to understand. After all, we are in the same boat. And Willy has this incredible optimism that never leaves him, never runs out. I envy him in that way so much.

“Can I stay with you?” I ask hoarsely. My voice is scratchy from crying.

At first, Willy seems surprised at the question. His eyebrows furrow together and his eyes search mine, probably trying to guess if I’m joking.

“Well, of—of course,” he says, stumbling over his words a little. He backs up, pulling me gently along with him.

He yanks back the thin blanket on his bed, looking nervous. “Uh—“ He glances at me, hesitantly letting my arms go. “Want me to get in first?”

I smile a little. “I don’t mind at all.” I already feel better, Willy’s magic working on me without him even knowing. He’s a miracle worker.

Willy lays down, shuffling towards the wall as best he can. He holds the sheets open for me, and gives me a soft smile.

I crawl into the bed beside him, instinctively curling into his side. He has an arm underneath me, and his other one loops around my waist, pulling me close.

My head tucks under his chin perfectly, and I can hear his heartbeat as I lay there. I hardly dare to breathe, terrified this moment is nothing but a dream.

Willy’s arms tighten suddenly around me. I’ve never felt this safe, this protected, this calm in a long time. It’s like my anxieties and my worries are just melting away, just like Willy’s chocolates.

“Thank you,” I whisper. “Thank you for always being there for me.”

I feel Willy smiling into my hair. “You’re welcome, sweetheart.” He presses a kiss on my head. “Now go to sleep,” he instructs. “You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

So I close my eyes, and I leave all my fear at the door. I’m just me, just y/n, safe and sound in Willy Wonka’s embrace.

[jqmalikhsgib]

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two

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varietymagazine “fame just got to my head,” styles starts. “it was all my fault. im the reason my family was almost broken.” click the link in our bio to learn more about harry styles life, music, and more!

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Harry Styles: The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly! 

When we hear the name Harry Styles, most of us scream our lungs out. The ex One Direction member holds our hearts in his hands without batting an eyelash.

Harry Styles was born in Worcestershire, England February First to Anne Twist and Des Styles making Gemma Styles an older sister. Harry would describe his childhood like any other.

“I was just a normal kid, playing football in my backyard,” he states. “I’d make fun of my sister while she called me a butthead before we’d go and watch something on the telly.”

Styles opens up about being a child from divorce. “My mom and dad had problems. They’d fight here and there and Gem and I would just hold each other in one of our rooms. My parents finally decided enough was enough and separated. I was ten years old, somewhat heartbroken but ultimately relieved.”

When Harry was eleven he met the most loveliest woman he’d ever seen. She’d just moved from America with her dad and five older brothers. The moment Harry saw her, he just knew!

“I couldn’t keep my eyes off of yn. She was breathtaking. I had to get to know her!”

Harry and Yn relationship begins when they were only twelve years old. From that moment they were each others first love. Harry states he’s never felt love like the one he’s had with YN.

Harry opens up about his personal life with his wife and his kids. Including the moment they became teen parents.

“We were young and dumb. The only thing we were thinking about was each other. When she called me crying, telling me she’s pregnant, we were just about to hit fourteen. We’d just started high school and we were scared shitless. I ended up getting a job at the local bakery and our parents helped us as much as they could. When our son was born we never felt so much pride and joy. We created this tiny little human out of love. Nothing has ever made either of us feel more proud.” Styles goes on to say.

Harry then talks about his dream of being a singer. He opens up about how silly he thought it was, but how his mom, sister, and wife talked him into auditioning for the X-factor.

“If it weren’t for my family, I would have never went to that audition! My mom and sister always encouraged me to live my dream. In my head it was a given. ‘Of course they’ll say this, im their son and brother.’ I thought to myself. But YN wasn’t either, I guess it was different when I heard it from her.”

Styles smiles as he discussed how he use to sing their son [Corbin Styles] to sleep. “He’d have this huge smile on his face. Every single time he’d close his eyes, he’d fight his sleep just so he could hear me sing. That’s really when I knew, I gotta audition!”

In that moment, Harry’s life changed forever! He was apart of the biggest boyband in the world, One Direction. Being put into a group with four other boys [Liam Payne, Louis Tomlinson, Niall Horan, and Zayn Malik] Harry talks about his relationship with each band member.

“Being put into a group with four different boys was difficult, sure! Of course it was exciting and love there in the beginning. We’re just five boys who had the same dream. But we’re also five boys with five different personalities, five different voices, five different views of the world, five different love stories. We bumped heads a lot, especially towards the end,” Styles states. “I think after four years of constant tour, no breaks, arguments, screaming, and barely seeing our families, we were all kinda done. At this moment I was married to YN, she was pregnant with payton, so I wanted to be there for her and both of our kids more. Louis was about to have his own baby, Liam was dealing with his own battles, Niall had family troubles, and Zayn had left the band. We were all kinda worn out. It was time we ventured out on our own and see where life would take us. In a way, it made our relationship better. Niall, Louis, and Liam are all uncles to my children. Zayn was my best friend in the band, he was named god-dad.”

We asked Harry about his first album, how it came about. “It was simple really! I’ve been writing my own music for a long time. I went to Jamaica with my wife and kids and it was lovely. I put together my own band, figured out which songs I wanted out there, and once it was ready, we set a date and even prepared for tour.” Harry smiles at the memory. Though it never reached his face.

This is when we asked him about his second album. Fine Line had been release two years after his self titled album, Harry Styles. Hearing it makes your heart break.

Harry talks about his relationship with wife. He opens up about his arrogance, ignorance, and his affair[s].

“I’m not gonna sugar coat it, I was a shit husband for a long time,” Harry tells us. “The moment we made it big, I’d get this big head and think, ‘fuck im the shit!’ so many women wanted me and would do anything to have me. I was weak and stupid. They all knew I was married with kids, I never hid that from my fans or obviously the women id sleep with.” Harry takes a deep breath. “YN and I would constantly argue. She’d cry herself to sleep at night when I didn’t come home or back to our hotel room when the boys and I were on tour. I remember when she packed her bag and left me.”

Harry wipes his tears before he continues. “It was around the last few legs of tour. I’d been sorta seeing at least two women regularly. [for privacy reasons harry didn’t mention names] She wrote me a note, stating she couldn’t do this anymore. She told me I either needed to get my shit together or she’d divorce me and get full custody. In this moment I knew, I needed to find myself again. Once tour was over, I flew to Japan, took a few friends, began the process of writing fine line, and went to therapy. I was gonna do everything in my power to get my family back together. from there, YN, me, and the kids would work on our new dynamic. I was slowly getting my family back.” Harry states.

Harry opens up about how a lot of the fans blamed YN during the time they’d been split up.

“I wanna clear this up, YN had nothing to do with our split. A lot of people assumed she’d been the one cheating or using me. She was always faithful and couldn’t care less if I had millions or pennies. She loved me for me. Fame just got to my head,” Styles starts. “It was my fault. I’m the reason my family was almost broken.”

YN has been known to be vocal to people who constantly hate on her. Harry opens up about the relationship she has with his fanbase.

“I think if you can’t respect your favorite artist relationship, you’re not a real fan. Truth is, YN is my wife. I almost lost her years ago, I’m not gonna lose her over something so petty. She’s the mother of my children and my wife. People should respect that!” Styles states. He continues to talk about her social media comments and post.

“She can do whatever she wants! I don’t control her, nor does my team! YN has always been very open when it comes to our marriage. She’s not gonna sensor herself simply because others can’t get the hint. That’s one of the many things I love about her!” Styles finished.

During our interview, Harry opens up about his next album before he leaves.

“The next albums gonna be filled with more love than anything. I think this one will be filled with dancing, smiles, and laughter. I’m really excited to share it with the world.” Harry states before he politely shakes our hands and walks over to his family.

[therainscene]

I’ve been enjoying the sympathetic, we-aren’t-being-shown-the-whole-story takes on Henry lately, and it’s reminded me of something I always found odd about the scene with the rabbit.

On the surface, this looks like a budding serial killer engaging in that red flag behaviour of torturing animals. We see the ensnared rabbit screaming and struggling in front of a young Henry, and older Henry tells us, “as I practiced, I realized I could do more than I possibly imagined...”

But then we see young Henry’s face... and I dunno, maybe it’s just me, but I don’t see a child torturing an animal for fun. He seems thoughtful, troubled.

What really gets me about this is older Henry’s narration over this shot: “I could reach into others, into their minds, their memories.” What does that have to do with killing a rabbit? He’s not in a mind-reading trance here, his eyes are open.

Immediately following this scene, Henry segues into telling us about his parents, how he’d reached into their minds and seen that they’d done “such awful things”. We see Victor haunted by a vision of the baby he accidentally killed. It screams like the rabbit, unable to escape its burning crib.

Here’s what I think actually happened with the rabbit:

Virginia set up traps to get rid of pests. (Victor was spooked by the dead animals around his property, so I don’t think he was involved.) Henry saw this while practicing his mind-reading, and upon investigating, found a terrified, injured rabbit. He sympathized with it; his mother viewed him as a pest, too, a problem to be solved via cruelty. He killed it to end its suffering, and soon developed a habit of mercy-killing all the animals ensnared by his mother.

I think this reading is a much better fit for Henry than “weirdo kills animals as practice for murder.” When he kills his human victims, he tells them, “it’s time for your suffering to end; it will all be over soon.”

He finds children ensnared by abuse and forced conformity. He sees them in pain, trapped in their burning cribs by cruel or foolish authority figures. He sees himself. He shows them the mercy he wishes he’d been given.

This is, of course, hypocritical. Henry has no right to decide on other people’s behalf how they should cope with their pain -- he’s turned into the same abusive authority figure he’s always railed against. He sees humanity as “a unique type of pest”, just as his mother saw him. Even his beloved spiders were kept imprisoned in jars so he could study them, just as Brenner imprisoned him in the lab.

Many abusers see themselves as victims, and they’re often right. That doesn’t justify the abuse they perpetrate, but in their own minds, they feel justified. They feel like they have no other option. That’s what makes the cycle of abuse so hard to stop.

Here’s what I find most interesting about sympathetic Henry: if he’s a demonstration of the good within evil... what does that imply about his narrative foil?

Will does not like to hurt others and he does not want to become that person. He couldn’t even shoot the Demogorgon in self-defense.

But he’s quick to hurt himself if it means helping his loved ones. He was willing to sacrifice himself in order to close the gate in S2, and he immediately bottled up his feelings to deal with the Mind Flayer in S3 despite being in the midst of a complete mental breakdown as a result of bottling his feelings up for too long.

And in S4, Will knows that his feelings are exactly what will make Mike feel better, but he’s too scared to come out or risk making his bestie feel uncomfortable, so he shills for heteronormativity and disguises his feelings as his sister’s under the assumption that’s what Mike wants to hear.

It is not what Mike wants to hear.

Mike feels pressured to lie to El. El is so distracted by his bullshit that Henry has time to kill Max. Max’s death opens the final gate.

The world ends, and Will Byers played a key role in it.

In his zeal to be a Good Celibate Gay and do no harm, he contributed to the worst harm imaginable. But he felt justified in what he was doing. He thought he had no other option than to decide on Mike’s behalf how he should feel.

Henry’s gonna have a fucking field day calling him out on that one.

Will isn’t a villain and he isn’t going to become one; the real villain in Stranger Things isn’t a person or a monster so much as the monstrous things people do. If there’s one lesson to take away from this show, I’d say it’s to remember that any of us -- even sweet, gentle, well-meaning Will Byers -- is capable of evil.

But it’s okay. Will’s internalized homophobia may have helped end the world... that just means honesty, acceptance, and love are the tools he’ll need to save it again. We’re all capable of that, too.

[minty-thereader]

LUFFY x READER

I’ve noticed that many OPLA stories are gender-neutral or labeled as “afab,” which left me feeling a bit confused. After searching for a while without much luck, I thought, “Why not write an x fem reader story myself?” This is a short one-shot, and I hope you all enjoy it! I wanted to share this intro to let readers know that this story is specifically for those who identify with it. If that’s not you, no worries—there are plenty of other stories out there! Thank you for taking the time to read!

I am also open to requests!

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“Ahh! A new island just waiting for us to explore! This is what adventure is all about!!” Luffy shouted to his crew, throwing his hands in the air with that unstoppable grin. He could barely contain himself when Nami, their trusty navigator, told them there was land ahead on the Grand Line. An island meant a break—finally! A break from what? From the endless sea, of course!

“Luffy, can you please relax?” Nami groaned, glancing up from her map with a tired glare. “For all we know, this island could be crawling with savages or monsters.”

“Tough luck! Who cares who’s here? As long as there’s booze, I’m good,” Zoro muttered with a shrug, not even looking up.

“You totally ignored the part about monsters, didn’t you? Great,” Nami huffed, exchanging a long-suffering look with him before rolling her eyes and turning back to her map.

Everyone was tense, each carrying their own kind of exhaustion from weeks of sailing, fighting off pirates, and barely hanging on. Nami was itching for a spa day, Zoro was restless without a drink, Sanji’s food stock was running low, and Usopp’s stomach was definitely over the whole “life at sea” thing. Everyone just wanted a couple of days to relax—everyone, that is, except their captain, who’d be up for anything as long as there was adventure!

“Alright, everyone off the ship!” Sanji called, already checking out the view ahead. “I heard there’s supposed to be a town here! We’ll find a place to stay—hopefully cheap—and kick back for a couple of days before we get moving again!”

With the Going Merry safely anchored, the crew hopped down, one after another, boots hitting solid ground for the first time in weeks. They wandered through the thick, wild forest, breathing in the scent of damp leaves and earth until the trees opened up to reveal a little hidden town nestled deep on the island, waiting like a secret.

“ALRIGHT YEAH! FOOD!” Luffy couldn’t wait for Nami to pass out instructions on how they’d find themselves a hotel, he just ran off into the distant town following the scent of roast beef. The others look to each other, nervous because of the possible dangers Luffy would put them in. When they finally met up with their captain they found him inside a friendly little diner! People were talking and laughing, waiters and waitresses bustling about! Just from this experience they could tell this was a good town with good people!

And then there was Luffy.

He looked kinda disgusting with the juices of a roast beef all over his mouth and hands and the table he sat at filled with empty plates of bone, a table big enough for six! “Ugh really Luffy?! It’s been 5 minutes how the hell did you already eat this much?!” Nami yelled at him taking a seat, everyone else following. “You don’t even know how much money this is gonna cost us! You know how much these plates cost?! HUH?!” Nami screamed in his ear as she pulled on it. The redhead was so frustrated she could cry, the thought of paying a thousand berries for this was gonna send her crazy! For sure!

Seeing Nami’s scared expression it made the young woman that was behind the bar of the diner pause what she was doing to come over with some drinks. Seeing her immediately Nami shook her hand, “oh! No we didn’t order anything.” “It’s okay,” the girl said, her eyes wandering over to Luffy, “it’s on the house.” A big smile came to her face and Sanji’s heart dropped. “Gosh with a smile like that I wouldn’t mind if you looked at me every damn day baby.” His comment made her blush and she laughed it away, “thank you. Enjoy!” She quickly backed away and went back to her station, Luffy’s eyes trailing on her.

“She’s a pretty good bartender,” he said out loud. “Oh? You talked to her already?” Usopp asked him, his face stuffed with fries. “Yup! She was the first person to approach me when I came in! I loved it when we were talking and her eyes just kept lighting up. I even complimented her skin! It’s such a smooth and beautiful s/c! Hmmm…” Everyone was shocked. Luffy has never complimented anybody before except on their skills but appearance? That was Sanji’s job! “Oh here she comes again!” Luffy says watching the woman walk by.

“Hey miss! Hi!” She stops and turns to him. “Yes??” “I like you! What’s your name?” The woman paused at this comment before remembering herself and pointing to her name tag. “It’s Y/n.” “Your name matches your face, it’s beautiful!” Luffy says loudly. Nami was quick to cover his mouth with a blush matching Y/n’s. “I am so sorry about our captain! He’s so silly he doesn’t know how to talk to people! Hehe! Can we get the bill please??” “Already?!” Usopp cried out, “I was just getting to the good part too..”

Y/n, embarrassed left quickly to get their bill and then she gave it to Nami seeing as that was the only responsible person in the group. “Thank you so much,” Nami tells her. “It’s not a problem! If it helps you can come back and I will be glad to serve you and your friends drinks for free! With sides of course.” Nami stood and dragged Luffy out by his underarms.

“Oh that would be so sweet of you! Thank you so much! We’ll be going now!” “Bye Y/n!” Luffy yelled with a smile, and off they went to get their room, a feeling of warmth that he couldn’t seem to replace as he thought about her all the rest of the night.

[blossomslovely]

Isekai Yandere Strawhats

Masterlist

Previous

Synopsis: You can read them together or separately, I f*cked up the last part but I tried connecting some dots without fully disclosing everything bc I am not yet sure if I want to continue expanding on this story. If you’d like this to possibly become a series let me know !

You had been startled awake gasping for air and completely drenched in a cold sweat. It was the middle of the night, the ship was dark but the light of the moon shone through the porthole allowing your sight to adjust. You sighed to yourself, memories of your family. What a cruel thing the mind can be, you thought.

You were restless and couldn’t sleep any longer, dreaming of distant voices like you weren’t here on purpose was hilarious in a sinister way. You wanted to believe the person you had become was just a simple state of mind so that you wouldn’t go crazy. But you knew better, you knew to everyone else you’d be considered a lunatic.

You’d argue with yourself constantly, in every crevice of your brain, while also being the mediator wanting everything to stop. This was a good life you were living, free of idiotic way of life you lived previously. When you woke from dreams like this, for a minute or two everything was clear.

You could remember how you got here, remember why you left in the first place. And best of all, you remembered why you were so scared of these people in the first place.

You chuckled to yourself as you got out of bed, your stomach now empty and gurgling for a snack. Making your way to the kitchen you saw the light in the crows nest and a shadow passing through the fish tank. Of course he would be up, you knew his schedule.

You wanted to go up and ask if he’d join your for a drink and a snack but, just as you reach the second flight of stairs you stopped yourself. Alone time when you were awake was needed.

Of course there would be times where you were alone during the day but never completely alone. The constant fake concern or the random outburst to grasp your attention when your eyes went blank always reminded you, you weren’t alone.

You opened the locks on the fridge, rummaging around for alcohol, one of the greatest things about this world was how strong it was in both flavor and effect. Back home you were too young to drink but here you could have anything you desired.

That’s what you liked to tell yourself now. Whenever the itch got too overwhelming and started becoming a visible panic attack you knew just how to calm yourself. Deep breaths, look at just one thing, and clear your mind of negativity. It worked but sake worked even better.

You drank too glasses in the darkness, the affect making itself known when you stood up to bring the rest of the bottle up the stairs. Giggling when you almost fell face first only to be caught in the strong arms of the swordsman.

He looked pretty tonight, the moon was a friend who liked to light up the features of his face you wouldn’t notice during the day. Making him out to be a knight in shining celestial armor. You smiled at him and he gave you a small smile back guiding you to the crows nest.

You told him about your dream. He listened quietly sipping directly from the bottle only stopping to pour you some.

“ Zoro.. is anyone listening?” You asked eyes scouting the perimeter of the room. He shook his head and urged you to continue.

“ My dreams remind me that I’m not insane— well that I’m not completely insane. I want to say they ground me as much as they hurt me.”

The tears welled up in your eyes, threatening to fall in giant droplets of sorrow. He stopped drinking to give you his full attention as you went more in detail about the things you’ve bottle up.

You were like a scroll unraveling before him, if he were bold he make a joke saying that you were the one piece they’d been searching the sea for.

He understood completely why the crew was enamored with you. The little fighting fish trapped in a tank, who could only give without take, the colors of your scales vibrant and full of life while your tail flashes trying to ward off the parasitic infection dwelling all around and within.

He finally spoke up, startling your rambling about every little topic on your mind, “ I didn’t want to interrupt but I have something interesting to tell you.”

You nod eager to listen.

“ I know we’ve been waiting a while and this since is a golden opportunity now that we’re alone. On the last island I spoke to an old man, there isn’t a name for it yet but there are other like you. Travelers.”

You threw yourself into him and held him tight. This was the break through you’ve gone through hell waiting for.

“ There have been quiet a few others, over the last few years he’s said. Some trying to be discrete and others making grand entrances, they speak how you speak, using the same slang and everything I knew they were linked to your situation.”

“ This is incredible ! I knew there were others like be but… I always thought they’d be- Zoro?”

He suddenly yanked you off of him, picking up the bottle of sake and walking to the door. Just as you were opening your mouth to speak the floor started creaking, someone else was awake.

Panic set through you.

Do they hear anything? Did they hear your excitement? Who was coming closer?

Zoro opened the door revealing Robin. How could you possibly forget the other equally dangerous night owl on the ship. She smiled at you and waltzed in sitting on a stool.

“ I didn’t know you woke up Y/N, I would’ve joined the two of you earlier.”

“ Oh yeah I didn’t really want to check for anyone but I just— I seen his shadow and I couldn’t sleep so I figured… why not.” Your nervous laugh creeped in towards the end of your sentence.

You silently damned yourself and looked over to Zoro who sat right back in his spot drinking the almost empty bottle like nothing happened.

The three of you talked about little things, souvenirs from islands, Zoro about swords he looked at, and Robin went on about a foreign scripture she has yet to completely figure out.

Zoro’s presence kept you at ease and before you knew it you fell asleep again. The rest was short and you woke in your bed by the booming voices of your crew mates. Making your way to the kitchen you were greeted continuously upon entry, the captain patting a seat between him and Zoro.

The handsome Prince handing your orange juice in a wine glass to accompany your eggs and bacon. You ate silently till Luffy started stealing off Ussop’s plate causing a ruckus on the table.

The morning came and went and you were playing card games with the boys till lunch. The excitement creeped in when you were handing your cleared plate and heading off the the crows nest once again.

Watching from the upper deck was Nami accompanied by Ussop and Chopper holding baskets of tangerines and pop green. A keen eye was needed in order to be a navigator and that eye noticed your 180 when you were around Zoro.

“ They’re close those two..”

The others agreed watching you leap up the stairs into the crows nest. It was hard to not notice when no one else really bothered the grumpy swordsman in his little sanctuary.

The woman hummed then directed her little helpers to continue picking fruit while she went to investigate. She heard your cheers and giggles as she got closer to the door, daring her to press her ear on the door.

Intently listening to you laugh about a story from your childhood she failed to notice the blonde creeping up behind her with a tray of drinks. With a hand to her chest to keep her from punching him she pulled him close to listen along with her, much to his delight of course.

Although when the cook heard the joy a familiarity being shared with the swordsman he almost barged into the room. Nami having to physically hold him back so that their cover wouldn’t be blown.

It’s almost like they forgot the swordsman can dodge knives in his sleep. Zoro alerted you the moment Nami was walking up the steps. Yes, she was as stealthy and as sly as a cat but there was more in fooling a man like him. The topic of conversation changed and you had suggested writing notes while you spoke the next time around.

The itch was back but you didn’t want to alert Zoro. He was doing his best in keeping your endeavors discreet and telling him would out more on his plate. That night you were reading and the navigator invited you to sit with her while she drew up new maps.

“ Y/N, you’re pretty close with Zoro huh.” She spoke up.

Your eyes left the pages to look at the woman gracefully creating lines and squiggles on the large lithograph. “ Yeah, I enjoy telling him stories and he just listens or laughs.” You shrugged.

She hummed and continued, “ I was heading over to you to ask if you wanted to help peal some tangerines for Sanji to make marmalade.”

“ Oh crap you should’ve asked me during lunch. I can help tomorrow if you’d like.”

She looked over to you from the corner of her eye and smiled agreeing.

“ I didn’t mean to listen in but… you seem very relaxed around him, more relaxed than with the crew.”

“ He.. he just seems to put me at ease I guess.”

“ Why aren’t you at ease with the rest of us?” She inquired tilting her head and placing the ink pen in the corner of her desk.

You quickly rebutted hoping to ease the sudden tension beginning to bubble up. She was full of questions today and you felt like you were in an interrogation room without a door. She chuckled at your stuttering, it was so cute when you were nervous. She continued her work and changed the topic to not cause you anymore visible worry.

Laying in bed that night you finally felt at peace, before your interruption earlier Zoro had told you he knew a way for you to get back home. It would take some time and you would have to get the others off your radar.

Your thoughts quickly shifted to Nami and how she approached you earlier. To a non trained eye your conversation just seemed like small talk or curiosity among friends though the threat of something more was obvious to you. You were sure she did that purposely, looking into your eye, raising and eyebrow, and giving you that sly smirk.

Just to see what type of reaction she could coerce out of you without making things too transparent. You knew eventually they would look into your newfound closeness with the swordsman. You turned to the other side of the bed where the pillow was cold and the light didn’t hit your closed eyes. Shaking the thoughts away to sleep and deal with another day tomorrow.

The ship was still lively while you were resting, everyone doing their own little tasks and routines. In the room next to the crows nest Robin was bathing, she was enjoying her peace till a small knock came from the door.

“ Robin could I come in?”

Nami opened the door and waved sitting on the edge of the tub. “ I think we should tell Luffy about Zoro and Y/N.” She said letting her fingers graze the steaming water. Robin hummed and leaned over to her, “ We should eventually of course. However, don’t you think we should also go to Zoro separately first as well? To completely assess the situation.”

Nami agreed and decided now would be the perfect time since you were asleep and he was completely alone.

She knocked twice and opened the door peaking in, “ Zoro are you busy?”. He looked up at her with a weight lifting over his shoulder and shook his head. She waltzed in sitting in the booth seat hitting her lip, the nerves of trying to get a straight answer out of him settling in.

“ I wanted to talk to you about Y/N, you’ve been pretty close yeah?”

“ I guess? They just come in and ramble while I work out.”

“ Well I hope you aren’t forgetting that the crew also wants to get close to them.”

“ What’s that supposed to mean exactly?”

He was as standoffish as always but if this wasn’t done who knew what the two of you could do. It’s not that she even wanted to question the first mate but no one else has been able to break the barrier with little Y/N… and of all people to it was the grumpy swordsman?

“ It means that whatever you’ve been promising them… isn’t going to make them..”

“ Rebel? I’m loyal to my captain, whatever ideas you’re having are wrong. They came to me because the rest of your are idiotic and overbearing.”

Nami huffed angrily at the assumption that she was overbearing and idiotic. She knew that at certain moments the entire crew would make you uncomfortable but her? She walked out slamming the door and the swordsman’s eyes hardened.

If Nami decided to personally ask him then someone more dangerous was involved.

Back in the bathroom the archeologist was humming quietly to herself as she drained the tub and let the steam dwell around her. The slam of a door from down the hall brought a smirk to her lips, Zoro had ticked Nami off and now she was going to play her part.

Robin knew from the moment you joined their journey you would be valuable. From the way the crew took a liking to you immediately and especially the way the captain would light up in your presence. Robin was extremely loyal to Luffy, she was going to do anything to ensure his happiness was preserved.

She knew you were scheming something with the swordsman. Just as she knew that the swordsman was aware of her presence whenever she’d try to lurk into the room. It’s not that she was doubting Zoro’s loyalty, but he obviously cared about you enough to even consider helping you get back home.

There were times where she questioned herself, she knew that keeping you here basically hostage was wrong. She lived her life running in fear and to keep you here against your will went against everything she stood for but… her captain was her number one priority now, and if making you cry yourself to sleep every night was the sacrifice then so be it.

The ship had finally settled and the moon was now at its peak, the boys room was filled with voices but surprisingly Luffy was quiet. Sanji took notice and eyes the swordsman from the corner of his eye. Without even looking towards him Zoro shrugged and turned the other way. He rolled his eyes and held his tongue not in the mood to argue, he was more concerned about his quiet captain who stared blankly at the wall.

Luffy wasn’t usually one to think too much about one thing for too long, so it was right to be concerned. Sanji stood tall peaking over into his cot and the boy met his gaze.

“ Something on your mind?”

A crack of a smile spring onto the captain’s face, he liked that his crew knew him so well. “ I’m just thinking of Y/N.” He sighed.

As of late you’d been running rampant through his mind. Every time he gets close you get farther and he doesn’t know how to fix it. You keep reminiscing about your old home and life, when you first got here you were ecstatic to be with him, he doesn’t know what changed.

You’d been more than happy when he welcomed you into his crew, you got along with everyone, and you fit so perfectly like his last puzzle piece. Then one day he woke up and started spewing things about wanting to leave. To leave him.

That thought angered him and he shot up from his cot startling Sanji. “ Why have the changed? We’ve been so kind. I don’t understand-”

“ They’re just homesick… we all get homesick.”

“ Yeah but it’s all the time with Y/N. She’ll laugh and play with us then started getting all sappy. It’s annoying me.”

“ Maybe it has something to do with this green moss ball sleeping underneath you— you seen how damn close they got. WAKE UP MOSS BALL!” Sanji hissed.

He kicked the swordsman’s cot waking him up and bringing the attention of the others in the room.

“ I have to watch in an hour what are you talking about in the middle of the night?”

“ How about you tell our very annoyed captain how you and Y/N have become so chummy.”

“ I don’t know why you’re all acting like this, isn’t it good that we’re friends? You guys need to evaluate your approach— and leave me alone.”

With that he fell right back to sleep the entire room thinking to themselves.

After that night the entire crew morphed into these disgustingly saccharine creatures. Catering to your every need like you were an infant who couldn’t be let out of sight for a moment.

In their minds you were their sweet Y/N and they were just helping you settle into your new home. Luffy’s annoyance spread to all the crew members, accept for you and they had a newfound determination.

Zoro decided it was better for the both of you to stop meeting too often, the outburst of Sanji let him know his efforts weren’t working. They were still hot on your tails and it was a matter of time before Luffy himself came to the two of you.

You were distraught, sitting in the kitchen eating a piece of cheesecake Sanji set out for you. You were finally so close and you had to be put on hold because for reasons Zoro wouldn’t share with you.

Enjoy ! 🍨 if you’d like a post specifically about Y/N and how she got here I’d be willing to do so, thank you for all the support.

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[elliewithcellie]

Long Cool Woman - Chapter 4

chapter summary: It's date night, and you get a little carried away. The brothers are less than thrilled.

wc: 4.6k

cw: ANGST, brothers are mad lol, SMUT ADJACENT (18+), heavy makeout, some *touching*, Sam's def jealous, reader still oblivious, reader cries, Dean plays good big brother again, mention of scars

a/n: yes it's theo james as the James fan cast sue me. Find the rest of the story here

Across from the table sat James, looking as perfect as you had met him that morning. You couldn’t believe you had ended the night here. Never in your recent wildest dreams did you picture yourself on a date, much less to be picked among fifty actual models. It was hard to believe a man as dreamy as him would want a girl like you, but the chemistry made up for it in your mind.

“So,” James began, “how does a girl like you get caught up in something like this?”

“Girl like me? What do you mean?”

“I mean, those other pageant girls are all the same. They’re all self-absorbed and can’t think of anything else they’d do with their time other than look pretty. But you, you’re different. You’re not like them, are you?”

You blushed and reached for your water. “Oh, I don’t know…” You struggled to find the right response. “I guess you could say it’s the family business. I’m just the girl of the family so…”

James leaned in. “Oh, wow. I knew it. It’s really only a job for you. That’s fascinating. Have you ever wanted to do anything else? If you could quit this life today, what would you do?”

He had no idea what a loaded question that was. What you would give to have your old life back. The life where monsters didn’t exist, and you could pursue a college education, or a trade, something normal that other people get to experience. “Maybe when this is all over, I’d go to school to learn psychology or something. The science of the mind has always been so intriguing to me. I don’t know. It’s hard not to look at my life and feel behind. But I guess you have to roll with the punches, you know?”

“I know exactly what you mean.” James reached for your hand. The hold was warm, firm. “Growing up, I felt like I had no say in what my future held. My dad was a mechanic. Told me I was going to be, too. He was harsh, to say the least, about my interest in creativity. If I as much as held a camera, it was enough to set him off. He’d tell me that if I was going to be the head of a household, I had to do something honorable. Making movies was a waste of time to him. My mom supported me in secret. She’s who gave me my first video camera. She’s who let me play pretend with my friends before my dad returned from work. But she left when I was young.”

“I’m so sorry,” you said, the confession startling you.

“Yeah, well. It was hard for a while with just my dad. Fights would break out, and all that, until finally I told him that I couldn’t follow his path for me anymore. So, then I left. I went to school to study videography. I loved it. I still do, but I’m scared I made a mistake. What if my dad was right all along? And what if I have to return home with the knowledge that I failed?”

“But you haven’t failed,” you said, hoping to comfort him. “Look at what you’re doing now. You’re directing a program that’ll be broadcast nationwide! Like, that’s not something you should look past, you know? To me, you’ve succeeded.”

James’ shoulders settled back into a natural state as a small smile formed on his face. “Thank you. I really needed to hear that. You are truly something else.”

His fingers played with yours in his grasp, and you did everything you could to focus on anything else. But it was hypnotic the way his touch set you ablaze with the simple graze of his thumb. Like falling under a spell, you fought to keep the conversation going.

“But enough about me,” James continued. “Please, tell me everything.”

So, you did. You practically shared your entire upbringing. Almost all of it was the truth, only lying to shoehorn in anything you knew from watching Toddlers and Tiaras. James soaked up every word, attentive to every phrase, and his eyes swallowed yours whole. It was like he was thirsty for more, no matter what you gave him. No one had ever given you this much attention before. You were worried any more would set you over the edge.

You had long since finished your dinner, the conversation never settling once. The first interruption of the night came from your phone buzzing in your pocket.

“Sorry,” you said as you pulled out your phone. The time read 9:32 pm, and an unread message from Dean waited for your response.

“tick tock” was all it said. You rolled your eyes.

“Is everything ok?” James asked.

You sighed. “Yeah, it’s just my, uh, my brother. He wants me to head back.”

James scrunched his eyebrows before releasing a small laugh. “Is he the boss?” he asked. You noted the sarcasm that coated the question.

“Yeah, actually. I don’t mean to cut this short.”

“Oh, no, not at all. I can take you back.” James paid for the meal, and the two of you set back on the road toward the hotel.

The radio hummed along with the steady drone of the engine, but the tension building between the two of you was much louder. His hand rested on your thigh as he drove, something your high school self would have panicked over. You were close to panicking now. Every bump in the road served as an excuse for his hand to drift, either deeper into your muscle, or higher and higher. You fought your rising temperature, but you were hot. The reminder of the rubber in your back pocket didn’t ease your nerves. It only strengthened them.

James pulled into a parking space in the back of the hotel, a secluded area away from the road.

“Do you have to go?” James asked, his eyes tracing over each of your features. You checked the time. 9:54.

“We’re cutting it close,” you said. Your voice was not your own. It was breathy, softer than usual. The hold he had on you was intoxicating. His eyes stayed on yours, and his chest heaved up and down. Your heart fluttered in your chest. “I had a really great time,” you said.

“Wait,” he said. “Just one more thing before you go.”

He reached across the center console and pulled you into a kiss. Your heart pounded against your chest, threatening to explode on impact. Your shock settled into desire, longing, and something deep within you that you’d never had access to until now.

You kissed back like it was second nature, a skill you never lost. You found your arms wrapped around the back of his neck, fighting to be closer. James’ hands got lost in your hair and grabbed a fistful. You moaned into his mouth. He raised his eyebrows and smirked against you, his hand venturing to your waist.

“This stupid car,” James groaned, sitting back in his seat. “Come here.”

You were nothing if not a good listener. Fighting how flustered you felt, you crossed over the console into the driver’s seat and straddled him. You had never been this close to a guy before, but now was not the time to think. You pulled him back toward you for a kiss, his tongue quick to join the action. You followed suit, a moan escaping your lips as his hands found purchase on your hips. His hands were rough, kneading into your flesh as he rolled you against him. Your breath hitched against his mouth.

“You’re amazing,” he said between kisses. “God, it’s like you were made for me.”

Your mind was numb, the praise sending you over the edge. His hands roamed to the front of your jeans and undid the button.

“Woah, wait,” you said out of breath.

James groaned. “Don’t tease me, baby.”

You melted at the name. You rested your head on his. “I can’t. I’m sorry.”

Then your phone buzzed. And again. And again.

“Shit. Shit!” You lurched over to your phone to see two missed calls from Dean. You shuffled through to the passenger side and opened the door.

“I’m so sorry. I have to go. I’m late. I didn’t mean to lead you on. I’m not that type of girl. But I have to go.”

“It’s ok,” James said with a small smile. “Go.”

“Thank you for tonight. It was amazing.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You smiled and closed the door. You ran to the lobby and called Dean back. “I’m so sorry. I’m fine. I’m here. I’m running up now, ok?”

“Ok,” was all you heard on the other line. You were in deep shit.

The elevator took its sweet time transferring you to the second floor as if to taunt you of your failings. You checked the time. 10:20. Almost 30 minutes of making out with a stranger? This was not good.

The elevator chimed. You bolted out of the doors and ran straight to your room. You scanned your room key and opened the door. Both brothers were on their feet when you entered, their attention already on you.

“I said ten,” Dean said, his voice unnervingly level.

“I know. I—”

“No, I don’t think you do.” Dean stepped closer to you. “Because when I say ten, I don’t mean twenty minutes after. I don’t mean it as a suggestion. I mean ten on the dot. I even gave you a warning text, just in case! That was an hour ago!”

“I’m sorry,” you said sincerely. “We really did head back when you texted. I swear. We parked at 9:54.”

“There’s still a thirty-minute block of time not being accounted for, isn’t there?” Dean crossed his arms over his chest.

The color drained from your face as flashbacks of the night attacked your memories. “I’m sorry,” you said again. “We lost track of time.”

“I’m sure you did,” Sam said, his words pointed.

You jumped at his words, not used to his biting tone. “What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked, your voice low, almost daring him to continue.

Sam shook his head. “We were worried sick, and you’re out there getting handsy with the first guy you meet.”

“Sam,” Dean warned.

“Woah, what?” You took a step back. “The time thing I get. I’m on your clock. And I want to make it up to you. But what I do on my time is my business.”

“Whatever,” Sam said. “I just hope it was worth it.”

Your jaw dropped at his final words, the audacity to be disgusted with you without knowing the truth. It was your business. Who gave him the right to assume? You fought the urge to call him jealous. Your own brash assumption would only make you a hypocrite.

Sam grabbed his laptop and duffle bag from the side of the bed. “Dean, give me the keys.”

“Where are you going?” Dean asked.

“Out. I’ll be back in the morning.”

Dean tossed him the keys. Sam headed for the door, but you stood in his way. You reached your boiling point.

“For the record,” you said, each word burning on your tongue, “things did get heated, but I shut it down. It was too much, and I wasn’t ready. So, maybe next time come with proof before you call someone a whore.” You fished the condom out of your back pocket and shoved it against Sam’s chest. “Here. I hope you have more use for this than I did.”

Sam’s heart pounded where your hand rested. The two of you stared each other down. Even then you weren’t afraid of him. As tall, strong, and powerful as he was, his anger was nothing more than an emotion, never a physical sign of danger. You were thankful for that. You felt your breathing slow with the pace of his heart. His eyes softened at your touch, almost remorseful.

Sam took the condom from your hand. He shoved it in his pocket and moved around you to open the door. He left without another word.

“What the fuck was that?” Dean said.

“Dean, I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to fight. I really do want to make it up to you guys. You guys are taking the time to teach me, and I’m on your clock. I just don’t get why he gets to stay out when I have a curfew. I’m not sixteen.”

“You’re still not getting it,” Dean said, exasperated. “This isn’t a maturity thing. This isn’t you clocking in at the deli. We work with life-and-death stakes here. On his deathbed, Bobby made us promise him your safety. He begged us to keep you safe. And he was everything to us. If we can’t do that one thing for him…”

You sat and listened, a heightened realization of your value setting in. “I’m sorry.”

“So, of course, we freaked out,” Dean continued. “We’re here to protect you. And we care about you, ok? So, don’t get that twisted. What Sam said was unwarranted. He’s dealing with his own demons at the moment. But he’ll apologize in the morning. I’m sure of it. But it’s just like I said. We can’t lose you, ok?”

You sighed and headed for your duffle bag. “Well, please let me know what I can do to make this right. It won’t happen again. I mean it.”

“I know it won’t,” said Dean. “Let’s just sleep this off before—”

Before he could finish his thought, Castiel apparated in the center of the room.

“Cas? What are you doing here? Are you hurt?” Dean jumped from the bed and took Castiel’s trench coat off, assessing for injuries.

“I’m fine, Dean,” Castiel said monotone. “I checked the bunker, but you all were not there. I have some news for you. Oh, hello, Y/N. Where is Sam?”

“Hi, Castiel. He had to clear his head apparently,” you mumbled, still feeling burned.

“What’s the news?” Dean asked. “Does it have to do with this hunt? Because we’re at a standstill right now.”

“There is definitely something going on here,” said Castiel, “but the town is too quiet.”

“So, it wouldn’t be a ghost, right?” Dean asked. “Sam and I were waiting for something to happen, but nothing. Ghosts don’t pause. Living things do.”

“If it’s not a ghost then, what do you need from me?” you asked.

Dean turned to you. “It’s all the more reason to stick to what you did today. You’ll really need to pay attention to your surroundings. Use what we and Bobby taught you to see if there’s anything fishy going on.”

A memory from the morning flashed in your mind. “You know what? I did see something weird. There was a window open in the lobby. And on the windowsill was like a pile of dirt. Maybe sawdust, or something.”

Dean and Castiel shared a knowing look before returning to you. “Show us,” Dean ordered.

You led the way to the lobby, Dean and Castiel trailing close behind. But when you walked up to the window, it had been closed and was completely clean.

“It was here, I swear,” you said confused. “They must have cleaned it.”

“Describe to us again what it looked like,” Castiel said.

“It was yellow and powdery, like pollen almost. But I’ve never seen pollen just clumped like that, certainly not inside.”

“Judging by your description, that sounds like sulfur.”

“Shit,” Dean said. “We’re dealing with a demon.”

The air got sucked from your lungs. A ghost you were ready to handle. That’s what you trained for. All you had to do was salt and burn some bones. Ghosts were predictable, more or less. It was something that you were confident you could hunt. This was a whole new level. Your mind flashed to your family and the black eyes that took them. You thought of the demon that almost killed you, how unprepared you were even with your years of studying. You couldn’t breathe. The blood drained from your face and fear took its place.

“You with us?” Dean stirred you from your impending panic.

You nodded, not able to find words convincing enough.

“Let’s head back to the room. It’s getting late, and we got our work cut out for us, tomorrow.”

Castiel vanished, and Dean called Sam to fill him in, leaving you to return to your room alone. Your heart was caught in your throat, your lungs restricted. You were unable to shake the dread clawing at your skin, the scars on your arms a permanent reminder of the damage a demon could wreak.

When Dean returned, you had already climbed into Sam’s bed. His pillow left traces of him, the scent decompressing your stress like a hug as you settled deeper into the mattress. You caught yourself. His words still stung, and his exit hurt worse. You tossed his pillow to the side in exchange for yours and huffed back in bed. Dean had said Sam took it too far. But why? What had him fuming to the point of leaving for an entire night? Guilt resurfaced as you were reminded of your evening. You were going to make it up to him, both of them, whatever it took.

“What’s wrong?” Dean said from the other bed. “You’re moving a lot.”

“Sorry. I’m fine. I’ll be quiet.”

Silence filled the darkness. You were careful to lie still hoping to let Dean sleep, but to no avail.

“You’re worried,” Dean said as he turned on the lamp between you.

You released a shaky breath. “I guess so, yeah.”

“About?”

You bit your lip. “Well, I’m thinking about Sam being so upset with me that he couldn’t be here.”

“I told you not to worry about that.”

“But you were mad too. You gave me a rule, and I broke it. And now, it’s not ghosts we’re after but full-on demons. There’s an emotional stake now. Ghosts didn’t kill my family or give me these.”

You held out your arms where your scars stained your skin. Dean’s eyes filled with remorse as he examined your scars.

“I couldn’t follow a simple curfew, Dean!” You continued, tears welling up in your eyes. “How am I supposed to be trusted to save the lives of these women when it’s demons? Dean, I’m so scared.”

You cried into your hands, unable to contain your emotions any longer. Dean sat on the edge of your bed and nudged your shin. “Hey, look at me,” he said.

You begrudgingly obeyed, your eyes puffy as your vision adjusted through your tears.

“People make mistakes. Everyone. You, me, Sam, everyone. It’s not a sign of your character. It’s a sign you’re human. You think being late removes every good thing you’ve done in the past year? No, dude. You’re fine. It doesn’t mean you don’t learn from it. And it doesn’t mean I have to like it, so I called you out. Just like you called Sam out for his mistake. You learn and move on. It has no bearing on tomorrow. I know I could do better at this, but you don’t hold grudges with family.”

You looked up at him in surprise. Family. He saw you as family.

“As for the demon, I know you’re scared. You’re not alone there. We don’t talk about it, but our origins are more alike than you may think.”

“Really?” you asked, scooting closer to him, your legs crossed.

“Yeah.” Dean sighed. “So, I get you. I do. But we’ve got you, ok? Both of us do. And besides, you’ve had Bobby teaching you almost since you got there, right? You’re more capable than I think you realize. But you’re safe with us, ok?”

You nodded, settling your tense shoulders back into place.

“I hate to say this,” Dean began, “well, then maybe I shouldn’t.” He moved to get up.

You grabbed his shoulder. “No, wait. Tell me.”

He sat back and sighed. “In all honesty, when we found out you existed, I hated you. I was so insanely jealous of what you had.”

“What do you mean?” you asked, your voice soft.

“You had Bobby. I mean, well, first off, you had a normal childhood. But I wouldn’t wish this life on anyone. But you had Bobby to take care of you every day. He kept you a secret from us for years. But once the cat was out of the bag, you were all he talked about. He would tell us how funny you were, your favorite shows, any small thing that had happened that he thought was remotely interesting. He was proud of you. You were like a daughter to him, and I think I resented you for that. Because he was like a father to me.”

His admission rattled you. You began to realize you didn’t know the entire history of the Winchesters. And if he was jealous of your situation, he and Sam must have endured some horrible circumstances.

“So, when we had to get you,” Dean continued, “I was furious. I wanted nothing to do with you, which is why we fought way back when. But when you threatened to leave, I realized we couldn’t lose you. You’re all we have left of him. By joining us, we got to find out that everything Bobby said about you is true. It made you really hard to hate.”

You chuckled, your cheeks rouging slightly.

“I don’t know where all this is coming from,” Dean said, suddenly bashful over his ramblings. “I guess my point is that you’re pretty cool, in an annoying little sister kind of way. I know we had a rocky start, but I don’t ever want you to feel like you’re not welcome by me, ok?”

You moved to sit next to him on the bed. “Can I hug you?”

“I’ll allow it,” Dean said. He pulled you into his side.

You wrapped your arms around him and rested your head on his shoulder. “For the record,” you said, “you were all I heard about, too. So, I think that makes us even.”

He hummed in response and patted your shoulder. “Ok, enough of this chick-flick shit. I’m headed to bed.”

A full laugh bubbled out of you, your first full laugh of the day. Dean smiled back as he turned the light off, and you drifted off to sleep in minutes.

You woke up the next morning not to an alarm, but to the door unlocking. You sprung up from bed, your heart thudding against your ribcage.

“It’s me. You’re fine. You’re safe. It’s Sam.”

Your eyes adjusted in the dark room as you watched Sam close the distance between you. He rested a hand on your shoulder as you tried to relax your breathing.

“Sorry,” you said through shaking breaths.

“You’re ok. Just breathe.” Sam rubbed small circles into your back with his thumb. “Same dream?”

You nodded, shuddering against him. It never got easier. You had hoped that time would heal your wounds, but something struck you as unfinished. An unwanted message to your subconscious, it was almost like you were missing something.

“What time is it? It feels early.”

Dean interrupted your question with a soft snore.

“It’s close to seven,” Sam said. He sat on the bed next to you and paused. He looked as if he was contemplating his words carefully before he spoke, almost nervous. “Would you be ok, when you’re ready, if we talked over coffee this morning? I don’t want to wake Dean up, and honestly, it’s not his business.”

You looked over at Dean. Not a single thought rattled around his head as he slept on his stomach with his mouth agape. You returned your attention to Sam. “Uh, sure. Coffee sounds nice.”

The two of you found a table in the back of the breakfast bar. Your coffee warmed your hands and the tip of your nose in the otherwise frigid lobby. Your body betrayed you, a shiver coursing under your skin from the contrasting temperatures.

“You’re cold,” Sam said.

“Ehh.” You shrugged.

“I should have told you to grab a sweater or something.”

“I’ll be ok.”

Sam removed his flannel and rested it on your shoulders. You bit your lip, trying to deter a blush from forming. “Thank you,” you said.

He nodded, a small smile residing on his features before faltering again. “Listen, I wanted to talk to you about last night. I shouldn’t have said what I did. I got so bent out of shape over your safety that I was, disheartened, to say the least, to find out you were here the whole time. Your time is your business, just like you said. And I respect that. I have to respect it if I want to respect you.” He lowered his voice. “I—I don’t think you’re a whore, by the way. It all just, you know, caught me off guard. So, I’m really sorry I hurt you. It wasn’t fair of me to say any of it. I care about you and never want to make you feel that way.”

Your thoughts wandered to the night before. “It did hurt, but because it felt so unlike you more than anything. I didn’t know where it was coming from, you know? But what hurt the most was when you left. It was mostly guilt. I couldn’t believe you were leaving over it all, and I couldn’t shake it. I was so upset to have hurt you so bad, but I couldn’t figure out why. I ended up breaking down to Dean I felt so bad. But he explained everything.”

“He did?” Sam asked, his eyes wide. “What did he say?”

“He said I’m all you guys have left of Bobby, and if you lost me, you’d completely lose him.”

Sam released a breath and sipped his coffee.

“And I guess you guys are the same to me in some ways,” you continued. “I’ve been ungrateful.”

“You haven’t.”

“I have though. Over the past year, I’ve lived a self-centered view of my situation. Being tossed from stranger to stranger and ordered to stay inside the rest of my life. That’s how I saw it. I felt trapped, stunted even. So, maybe yesterday I made some impulsive choices. But in my mind yesterday, it was eight years in the making. It was my first night to so much as to get a taste of a typical adult life. It was the first time a man asked me out. I had to take advantage of that because what if it never happens again?”

Sam’s eyebrows scrunched together at your words but let you continue.

“But,” you breathed out, “it was a selfish endeavor, and I know it. Last night, Dean reminded me that I wasn’t being tossed around by strangers but by people who had so much love for each other that they willingly let me be a part of their circle. I’m sorry for taking advantage of your time. Because now I know it wasn’t just time; it was safety and the relationships we’ve formed over the last year, and I will not take that for granted anymore.”

Sam gave you a small smile. “That was…really well said. You’re family to us. And it’s just that we care a lot, ok? So, are we good, now?”

You smiled back. “Yes, we’re good. I promise to make it up to you.”

“You already are.”

The comfort exuding from Sam began to flood your senses. You’d spend all your time with him if he’d let you, completely content to remain in his space.

“We should probably be getting back,” Sam said, shuffling out of his seat. “We have a big day ahead of us.”

chapter 5

[robbersofmyheart]

A coffee shop meeting…

Summary: Fate steps in when a teacher in her not-even-quarter-life crisis meets Matty Healy.

A/N: There's a very strong possibility that I'll never post any other writing on here again, but I hope this brings a smile to someone else's face. This was a daydream born of my love both for the 1975 (Matty in particular tbh) and for the found family trope. Hope you enjoy it!

“You don’t happen to have a light, do you?”

“No, I don’t. Maybe it’s a sign you shouldn’t smoke it.”

“I’ve done a lot worse, believe me.”

“Oh, I know. Doesn’t make that nicotine any better for you though.”

Eleanor looked across at her companion, eyebrows raised in challenge, waiting to see if he had a comeback. The café, which had been heaving when she arrived a couple of hours ago, now had only two customers remaining. In their typical British fashion, they hadn’t spoken until now, despite being alone at their adjacent tables, so Eleanor was surprised to hear him finally breaking the ice over the rattling of coffee cups being tidied away. She watched as he put the cigarette back into the packet, a smirk overtaking his features.

“So you do recognise me then.”

Crap. Of course that’s what he took from that. Matty Healy - 1, Eleanor - 0.

“Yes, I recognised you, Matty,” Eleanor replied with a sigh. She couldn’t believe she’d lost that easily.

“Why didn’t you say anything? You were the only one in here that could see my face.”

“I was working,” she paused. “Or at least trying to. I don’t usually focus well in busy places, too many more interesting things to study.”

“Why are you here then?”

“My cousin lives in Manchester and I’d come to visit him. We managed to have half a day before he got called in for a last-minute shift at work. I missed my train home by literally seconds, then I saw that the next one was cancelled, so I thought I’d get some planning done while I wait for the one after to arrive.”

Matty was listening to her intently now, his chin resting on his hand. Eleanor wondered what he was doing here. Since he arrived, he’d alternated between drinking cups of coffee, scribbling frantically in his Moleskine, and watching the comings and goings of customers out of the corner of his eye. Before she could ask him, however, he dived in with yet another question for her

“And what sort of planning would that be?”

“Factorising quadratics with Year 9, area of a trapezium with Year 7, and recurring decimals revision with Year 11.”

Matty exhaled loudly, leaning back in his chair, the glint in his eye telling her that he was impressed. “You’re a maths teacher then.”

“Bingo.”

“That must be a tough gig.”

“Just a bit.”

“You seem quite young to be a teacher.” It was a statement, but the furrow in his brows betrayed his confusion.

“I’m 22, so I guess I am.”

“Do you enjoy it?”

Eleanor hesitated, considering what her reply would be, and Matty waited patiently, almost watching the cogs turning in her brain. “I do, for the most part. I work with an amazing team of people, and I love seeing the difference I make to those kids’ lives. Not everyone has that purpose, so I’m lucky really.”

Matty narrowed his eyes at her, knowing that she wasn’t telling the full story. And that was how Eleanor found herself pouring her heart out to the curly haired singer, the troubles that she had bottled up inside her for months finally breaking free, whether she liked it or not.

She told him about how she lived in a permanent state of exhaustion, tired from the never-ending to do lists and the unbearable repetitiveness of her daily life. She told him about the part of her that regretted throwing herself into such a big career at such a young age, and how she felt that she missed her chance to be young and wild and carefree because she’d always been so focused on her work. She told him about how she’d thought about leaving her current life behind and starting again so many times, but had ultimately been too scared of failing and letting people down when they’d given up so much to help her get to where she was now.

To his surprise, Matty didn’t feel like interrupting her once during her monologue. He simply wanted to let her talk, to let her share her thoughts with him. It was like he could actually see some of the weight lifting off the girl’s shoulders as she unburdened herself of her worries, and it almost made him smile to think that she felt comfortable enough to tell him when he somehow knew that she had never told anyone else. So he just listened, letting her ramble on until she ran out of things to say.

When that time finally came, Eleanor let out a big exhale and looked Matty in the eye as he responded with one word: “Wow.”

Eleanor felt her face start to burn and she buried it into her hands. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry. This is probably the last way you wanted to spend your afternoon, being on the receiving end of my word vomit.”

“You know what, it actually made a refreshing change. Didn’t expect to get recruited as a therapist today.” Matty watched her shoulders start to shake under her blanket of blonde waves, and was shocked at the worry he felt that she might be crying. But when she looked up she was giggling, despite the faint sheen of tears in her eyes.

“Oh, so you’re my therapist now?”

“You mean you didn’t purposefully choose me? I’m wounded.” That made her laugh properly this time, and Matty found himself unable to hold a soft smile back any longer before his expression turned more serious. “Look, I’m not going to pretend like I know how to solve your problems, and I’m not even sure if you want me to, but can I say one thing?” She nodded. “I think that if the people that you’re worried about letting down really love you, they’ll be more upset if you carry on doing something that’s making you miserable for their sakes than if you give it up.”

Eleanor mulled over the singer’s words and whilst she knew deep down that they were true, it didn’t change the fact that she was absolutely terrified at the idea of giving up teaching. Below the supportive façades, she knew her parents would always berate her for leaving such a stable, well-paid career, and her pride would never let her return to work at her current school with people that she adores if this mysterious plan B failed. She relayed all of this to Matty.

“Well who gives a flying fuck what anyone else thinks anyway! What’s the point in life if you don’t do something you love?”

“But teaching is the only thing I’ve ever even contemplated doing, I’ve got absolutely no idea what else I’d do.”

“Listen, you’re young, intelligent, beautiful, and you’ve literally got the whole world out there with so many possibilities - it doesn’t matter if you don’t get it right first time.”

“Careful, Healy, I might start thinking you like me,”

Now, if you asked Matty Healy of The 1975 why his immediate response was to do a stereotypically girlish impression of that comment before flipping off the young woman sat in front of him, he wouldn’t be able to tell you. Nor could he explain why, after only an hour of talking to her, he felt such an incredible fondness for her, an almost brotherly affection, which prompted him to tell her how amazing she seemed to be. But he could describe how his heart soared as she laughed at him, and then sunk as she realised the time and started hurriedly packing her stuff into her bag.

“Shit, shit, shit. Do you think I can make the train in 5 minutes? I can’t miss this one as well. This is all your fault you know!”

“Hang on, how is it my fault? You’re the one who started emptying your brains onto the table.”

“And you were the one who made the mistake of listening.” Eleanor swung her bag onto her shoulder, and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. “Thank you.”

Then she was running out of the coffee shop, a blur of blonde hair and floral perfume.

It was only then that Matty realised he didn’t even know her name.

***

1 year later…

“Lovely to meet you, take care.”

As soon as the interviewee had left the room, the smiles on four of the five faces dropped and they let out a sigh.

“Guys, if you want to actually do this, we do need to hire someone.”

Matty tugged at his hair in frustration. “It’s not that we’re not on board with it, Jamie, it’s just got to be with the right person. I mean, it’s letting someone totally unknown to us into an entire chapter of our lives, not just our careers.”

It was just over a month ago that The 1975 had told Jamie Oborne that they were ready to start working on their next album. In the same meeting, Jamie had proposed an idea that he had been mulling over for a while. The response to ‘A Theatrical Performance of an Intimate Moment’ had been better than anyone had anticipated, and the fans always loved seeing behind the scenes footage. So, Jamie had suggested filming the entire journey of their next album, from concept to creation to tour, and releasing it as a mini-series. Of course, the band could get the footage themselves, but whether they would actually remember to do it was a different story.

That was how they found themselves in a boiling hot room in the London office of Dirty Hit, having collectively decided against all 15 people they had interviewed for the role of documentarian.

“I mean, they all just seem so serious,” Matty continued.

“Boring, you mean,” George muttered.

“This thing does have to look good, though, for it to work, and these were the most qualified of all the candidates,” Jamie countered.

“We don’t fucking care about qualified!”

“I think what Matty’s trying to say, mate,” Ross calmly cut in, “Is that we were thinking of something more low key. More of a collection of home movies than something carefully filmed and edited.”

“Yeah, we don’t know how long this thing is going to go on for, way over a year at least, and we don’t want to feel like we’re putting on a show the whole time. It’s got to be authentic. It’s gonna be fucking weird at the start but after a while we just want it to be like a mate is casually filming what we’re doing.”

Jamie had to admit that George closed their argument well, and he was sold on it. He just wished that they had told him sooner.

“Okay, okay, I get it and I’m happy for us to go ahead with that. There’s one more person for us to speak to today, who was kind of my wildcard, so if she’s more what you’re looking for then we can revisit some of the other applications tomorrow.” With that, Jamie left the room to get the last candidate.

“A wildcard? What is this, mid-2000s X Factor?” Matty huffed, to the amusement of the others.

But any annoyance that Matty felt was washed away in an instant when he saw who his manager was holding the door open for.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Matty’s words might have sounded rude, but it was the smile spreading across his face that shocked everyone the most.

“I’m here in an attempt to annoy you for longer this time,” Eleanor smirked.

“Well, you’re failing miserably at this point. How are you?”

“I’m good. Really good, actually.” A genuine smile crossed her face this time. “Didn’t think you’d remember me to be honest.”

“I often wondered what you decided to do with your life in the end,” Matty shrugged. “It frustrated me knowing everything and then nothing at all. So I guess you have already succeeded in your goal to annoy me.”

Before you had chance to reply, another voice broke through to join the conversation. “Sorry to interrupt this lovely chat, but would someone kindly explain what the hell is going on here?” It was George, and he, like everyone else in the room, was stumped by Matty’s sudden personality transplant.

Now very aware of all of the eyes on her, she looked to Matty for help, who simply sat back in his chair before saying “Well, I think you’re sat in the better seat for a storytime, don’t you? Anyway, I don’t even know your name.”

So Eleanor told the room about how she had met their frontman, briefly mentioning the life crisis that she’d been having at the time, whilst Matty impatiently waited to hear what happened after she left the coffee shop. She told them how she’d stayed in teaching until the end of that school year, before handing in her notice. Her boss had been sad to see her go, but told her that if she ever decided that she wanted to come back then he’d always find a job for her. Eleanor’s family, however, reacted quite differently; she ended up having a massive row with her parents about it and her relationship with them still hadn’t quite mended fully. Ever since her move to London, she had been taking whatever bar jobs she could find and spent her days applying to any jobs that took her fancy.

Matty couldn’t help the pride that was coursing through him for the young woman sat across from him. She had taken all of those ‘What ifs’ that she’d told him about, thrown them in the fire and walked away, when he knew that all of her instincts would have been telling her to do the opposite. He looked around at the others, and was both amused and pleased to find that they all seemed to be as entranced by Eleanor as he had been at their first meeting. In Matty’s eyes, she was the perfect fit, and he could tell that she was quickly winning the others over as well.

Surprisingly, it was Adam who spoke up first. “So, you’re saying that you’re totally unqualified for this job?”

“Never done anything like it before in my life. But it sounded interesting and I’m always up for learning new stuff.”

“Never been behind a camera? Never had anything to do with the music industry?” Ross asked, slightly taken aback by her honesty.

“Not the music industry, but I used to study music at school and I still play the piano from time to time.”

“And I take it you’re on board for annoying Matty as much as humanly possible?” It was George this time.

“Oh 100%.”

Matty rolled his eyes, but the smile remained on his face. She’d done it. Now, there was only one person left to convince. Matty quickly joined the others in looking at Jamie the way they used to look at their parents when the ice cream van pulled up on their road.

Eleanor watched on nervously as some sort of telepathic conversation seemed to transpire between the band and their manager.

Eventually, the silence broke and a new chapter began.

[singularattitudeofasafetypin]

The Great War: Part 2

When You Are Young, They Assume You Know Nothing

Summary: Briefed on their new assignment, Hunter and his squad get to know the princess they’re protecting. Word Count: 1.3k Warnings: None

Part 1

Please don't copy my work

Midday sunbeams filtered through the leaves and twinkled through gently tinkling wind chimes. Its rays touched the velvet flowers and soothed the hands that worked away at their stems. Shielded beneath his armour, Hunter wondered what they might have felt like. The sunlight that is.

The briefing had gone well. It wasn’t like they’d had much to do. The palace guard took the lead, detailing the ins and outs and assuring the princess that nothing about her daily routine would be disturbed in any capacity.

One member of the squad would be assigned to her at all hours on a regular rotation while the others were stationed at strategic areas around the palace and investigating the threat. She was free to go about her day as normal and had absolutely nothing to worry about.

As squad leader, naturally Hunter took point. He’d followed her around since the briefing, two steps behind as instructed.

With the way the guards had pandered to her and grovelled in their mollifications, he’d half expected to find her to be affected and volatile like the stories the squad had heard of other nobles about the galaxy, but he couldn’t have been more wrong.

Though she had sat wordless through the lecture, her expression wasn’t prim or imperious.

When he accompanied her down the corridor, she didn’t sweep ahead in state and grandeur.

In the garden, she had no servant to cut blossoms while she watched. Instead, she knelt with her dress in the dirt and fingers pricked raw.

“Father hasn’t ordered you not to speak to me, had he?”

Hunter had been staring. The question caught him off guard.

“No, ma’am,” he stuttered, steeling himself as a faint smile flitted across her face.

“Good,” then a shadow doused her satisfaction, “it’s the kind of thing he’d do.”

Before the full pang of her words could twist in Hunter’s chest, her eyes were on him again.

“I’ve heard about the clone army,” she said, “You’re the finest soldiers the Republic could’ve asked for.”

“That’s very kind ma’am.”

“My father told me your squad was even more skilled than the rest?” She paused, “How, if you don’t mind me asking?”

He let out a breath with a smile. All her status and prestige, all the fawning of her guards and concern of her father, and she was worried about hurting his feelings.

“We’re an experimental squad,” he returned, “Genetically enhanced.” The explanation he’d honed over years of interrogation didn’t seem so commonplace with her listening. “Crosshair’s an expert marksman, Wrecker’s enhanced strength is obvious along with Echo’s cybernetic implants, and Tech has accelerated brain capacity” he grinned behind his visor, “He can talk your ear off about anything!”

“And what about you, Hunter?”

His breath caught. She hesitated, apology prevalent in her face. “I heard your brothers calling you that.”

“I have enhanced senses,” he stammered. “I can… feel electromagnetic frequencies. I can hear them.”

He forced himself to pull it together. Her face split into a grin. “That’s incredible!” A breathless laugh escaped her chest as she stood. “Can you hear my heartbeat?”

“Yes ma’am.” It was a good thing she couldn’t hear his!

She smiled, gathering up the flowers in her arms. Then her face fell. “Can you hear the war from here?”

Hunter’s throat caught. She didn’t need an answer though.

“Father keeps trying to tell me it all happening far away but it isn’t is it?” Her eyes were pensive, heavy with the weight of responsibility too heavy for her age. “That’s why you’re here isn’t it?”

“Ma’am?”

She scoffed but not with malice, “I’m not stupid Sergeant. I know the Separatists want to use me to manipulate my father.”

So much for keeping her in the dark. “You don’t seem scared?” The words passed his lips before he could restrain them.

She glanced at the blossoms in her arms with a small smile. “In the face of terrorism, the most defiant thing one can do is remain unafraid.”

The words sounded so simple but Hunter was no stranger to the toll war had on people. He could see the tremor in her hand and the dread in her eyes. Perhaps that was what made him step closer.

"We aren't going to let anything happen to you!"

She sniffed but smiled.

“Thank you, Hunter.”

*

Over the course of the next few days, the squad formed their opinions of the princess.

“I love her!” Wrecker burst out. He reclined on the floor against his bunk, gorging himself on the treats he and she had stolen from the kitchens. Hunter still remembered his face when he’d returned to their quarters. He’d never looked happier.

“I concur,” added Tech, looking up from his datapad and recounting again how she had actually asked him questions about his knowledge of the indigenous bird species on her home planet.

Echo had lived up to his name in his praise of her too, calling her sensible but kind-hearted and level-headed despite her inexperience. Tonight, he kept watch over their charge. Hunter would relieve him in a few hours.

“All royals are the same.” Crosshair’s habitual distain was unchanged. He rolled his eyes at his brother’s commendations and chewed his toothpick scathingly.

“What d’you think of her Sarge?”

Wrecker’s inquest was harmless enough but Hunter went still. A warm heat covered his face.

"She's-."

He tried to pull himself together but the words wouldn't come. Crosshair laughed. A low, snickering sound that always meant Hunter was about to get teased within an inch of his life.

“I know that look.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Hunter winced at his own pathetic display of indifference.

Crosshair sat forward with a smirk, “You’ve got a crush on her!”

Wrecker’s jaw dropped and Hunter’s face only got hotter. “No, I don’t!”

“So much for staying focussed and not letting our guard down,” Crosshair parroted his own words back to him with delight.

“Stow it, Crosshair!” Hunter scowled, but it was Tech’s turn to pipe up.

“Based on my analysis of your heightened heartrate and temperature, I would have to agree with Crosshair’s hypothesis.”

Hunter clenched his fist, “Quit scanning me!” Oh yeah, he was being really subtle. He forced his tone into something like an authoritative leader, “The princess is under our protection, we have a duty to the Republic and by extension her and her father. That’s all there is to it.”

Crosshair opened his mouth to retort but Wrecker beat him. “Get off his case, Cross! If the Sarge says there’s nothing, there’s nothing!”

He stopped Tech too with a direction to let Hunter rest up so they could all do their jobs and the room hushed. Hunter closed his eyes and silently thanked Wrecker for his tact. It wasn’t long before the others were joking around like normal, albeit quietly.

*

A few hours later, Hunter relieved Echo of his post. It was nearing midnight so he stood scanning the corridor outside of the Princess’s bedchamber. Silence was almost as overwhelming as too much sound. Hunter’s senses stretched, starving for anything at all.

His one consolation was the two heartbeats that thumped in time with each other. One his own. The other resting peacefully on the other side of the door.

What had Crosshair meant? Of course he did like her. She was beautiful, kind, and the way she’s instantly befriended his brothers, the way she’d made them smile already…

But that was ridiculous, he’d only known her a few days. Besides, the Republic had made one thing very clear: clones were soldiers and nothing more. Since birth, that’s what he’d been trained for. To fight, to die if necessary for peace!

Still, the war had to end eventually. What would happen if he was still around to see it?

What would happen then?

He wondered and puzzled and went over it again until the passageway began to lighten.

“Mornin’ Sarge,” Wrecker loped, bleary-eyed toward him, ready to take the next shift. “Any trouble?”

Hunter shook his head with a small smile, “All quiet.”

He yawned, “Hand over then.”

Hunter patted his younger brother’s arm and made to leave but Wrecker caught him. “Do you really like the princess, Hunt?”

He felt his throat tighten again but the storm of thoughts he’d been caught in finally broke. He took a breath.

“Yeah, Wrecker. I really do!”

***

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Hunter Taglist: @clonethirstingisreal

[aurora-babydoll]

𝕿𝖎𝖙𝖑𝖊: 𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕮𝖆𝖌𝖊 𝖂𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝕮𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙: 𝟔.𝟑𝖐 𝕿𝖂: 𝖆𝖑𝖈𝖔𝖍𝖔𝖑 𝖚𝖘𝖊, 𝖋𝖊𝖒!𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗, 𝖔𝖗𝖆𝖑 (𝖒), 𝖋𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌 (𝖋), 𝖕𝖓𝖛, 𝖈𝖍𝖔𝖐𝖎𝖓𝖌, 𝖉𝖊𝖌𝖗𝖆𝖉𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓 (𝖎𝖋 𝕴 𝖒𝖎𝖘𝖘𝖊𝖉 𝖆𝖓𝖞𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖑𝖒𝖐) 𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖗𝖆𝖈𝖙𝖊𝖗: 𝕸𝖆𝖒𝖒𝖔𝖓

Anybody who knew Simeon loved him. Yes, he wasn’t the sharpest tool in the box but gods, was the man sweet. Chivalrous. Simeon was the type of man to open the door for any woman who passed him, lay his jacket down over a puddle for a stranger, give the clothes off his back, and protect anybody who needed it. He fit the angel title. And everyone you meet cannot seem to shut up about how lucky you must be to have him as a big brother; how grateful you must be for his protection. That, however, couldn’t be further from your feelings on the situation.

To everyone else, Simeon was perfect. To you, he was an annoying thorn in your side. He was messy. He always left his dirty socks wherever he felt like taking them off, he never cleaned up after himself when he made a mess eating. He was rude. He would flick your ear or smack you on the back of the head whenever he passed you to watch the smoke blow out of your ears. But worst of all, Simeon was far too overprotective of you.

Having one of the celestial realm's most powerful angels as an older brother was unfortunate. Anytime you brought a boy home, they’d run away with piss running down their leg within the hour. Sometimes there’d be one tougher than the others that he couldn’t scare off. For those, he’d just tell all of the embarrassing stories he had of you until they broke up with you. 

“Why do you have to chase them all off?”, you’d cry, beating your older brother's chest with your fists. And he’d just smile and put a hand on your head. 

“If they’re scared off that easily, they aren’t worthy of you. It’s my job to protect you. I’m not passing on that responsibility to some idiot who runs away at a couple of glares and embarrassing stories. You’ll find it someday.”

Overprotective, messy, annoying, yes. But he was still your older brother. And you loved him despite those unfortunate qualities, so you did your best to listen, regardless of your feelings on whatever disagreement was this week's topic. This one in particular included something you had been envious of since you realized where he was disappearing to. Parties. A topic that you just couldn’t stop yourself from arguing with him about.

You didn’t know what happened at these parties, your brother would always keep that a secret. But you were grown up too now. You wanted the experience, you’d never been to a real party before- unless you counted the birthday parties he used to throw for you as a young angel- which you didn’t. You just knew your brother would always be home the morning after, nursing a hangover and talking to a friend on the phone about some kind of “cage”. You had no idea what that meant, but you were curious. So who could blame you for begging Simeon to go?

“Hell no, you’re not going to that party”, he laughed, the idea so absurd to him that it was almost funny. “It isn’t safe at all. Plus, you’re new to visiting the devildom, you’d have a hard time getting in anyway.”

“I’m sure I could get in if I was with you! You’re there constantly, the people who run whatever it is have to know you by now right?”, you argue, a small pout lining your lips.

“No way, I’m not taking you. It’s too dangerous, it won’t be good for you. And you need to be studying, not drinking your little head off at a party.”, he shook his head, continuing to unkemptly stuff clothes into a duffle bag. 

You roll your eyes. “What could be so dangerous about a stupid little party?”

Your brother laughed and gave you a look that said “you just said the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard”, before zipping up the duffle bag and slinging it over his left shoulder.

“I have to go now, Micheal wants me back in the celestial realm for a meeting. Stay safe. And if I find out anything about you going to any type of party you won’t hear the end of it. You’re gonna stay home all weekend and study. End of story. And I’ll have Solomon and Thirteen checking on you too.” You rolled your eyes once more and crossed your arms, letting a huff escape from your lips. 

“Fine”, you muttered, before looking at him with your best fake “I’m sorry” face. “Have a safe trip, please.”

He smiled and pulled you into a hug. “You got it, hun. I’ll be fine”. He pulled away and opened the front door. “Stay safe, okay? I love you.”

You smiled back, “I love you too”.

But as the door closed behind him, the smile turned to a smirk. “Y’know what? I'll end the story”, you muttered, pulling out your phone and dialing a number you knew all too well.

“Hey, girl! What’s up? I was gonna call you later tonight, Simeon asked me to check on you”, the bubbly voice of the reaper, Thirteen, filled your ears. You smiled as you responded.

“Hey! I just wanted to ask you for a favor, Simeon is being so unreasonable today…”

“That’s odd, usually he gives you whatever you want— what’s up?”

“I was just wondering if you knew anything about those parties he goes to. He’s so secretive about them and when I asked to go along with him he was talking to me like I was stupid.”

Thirteen’s laugh rang through your ears over the phone. “Oh, honey, I promise, you do not want to go to those parties. They’re dangerous- and it always smells awful.”

“What could be so dangerous about a stupid party? I didn’t think you’d be as boring as Simeon”, you groaned, flopping down on the couch in a huff as you continued your phone conversation.

Thirteen gasped in offense. “Okay, rude. I am not boring, I just don’t think it’s a good idea. They’re not just parties, honey. You have no idea what it is?”, she questioned in disbelief.

“No, he’s always so secretive. I just know that he smells like booze when he gets home and talks on the phone to some guy about a cage.”

“Yeah honey, I’m surprised you haven’t put it together. They’re death cage parties. Simeon goes to them to relieve stress from having to watch over you and the chihuahua.”

Your mouth fell open in disbelief. You knew that in private your brother wasn’t exactly a model citizen, but illegal parties? No, there was no way. He was an angel, how could he be caught dead in a place like that?

“Really? I didn’t think he was cool– when’s the next one? I want to go!”

“No, absolutely not”, Thirteen declined through the phone. “If I told you the address, Simeon would kill me. You’re his baby sister, I’m supposed to be checking up on you, not sending you to illegal death parties.”

You sighed in response. “Come on, Thirteen, please! He doesn’t have to know. And I’ve always thought of you like a cool older sister, don’t get all boring on me now.”

Thirteen paused in thought for a moment. “Ugh, okay fine. But only because I love you. And Simeon cannot find out about this. I’ll send you the address now, the next party’s on Saturday night. But I’m not going to be there so you have to promise me you’ll stay safe, okay?”

You squealed in happiness.”Thank you, Thirteen, you’re the best! I’ll keep myself out of trouble, I know how to be cool…one more thing though, what is a death cage?”

Thirteen laughed. “You’ll figure it out once you get there.”

Though you were puzzled, you smiled and hung up the phone, an address in your messages moments later. You’d show your brother. You’re an adult, you can go to whatever party you want, dangerous or not. Gone were the days of being lonely in your brothers’ shadow, you could do this.

Saturday rolled around and you had more than prepared yourself. You dressed in a little pink party dress, and minimal makeup with the hopes of blending into the crowd. It wasn’t so scary, after all, you knew the devildom well at this point. And if there was an emergency, you were sure you could call one of the demon brothers, they’d grown quite fond of you, and you couldn’t imagine them allowing you to get hurt. You stuffed your phone, lipgloss, and a condom (just in case) into your bag before heading out into the streets of the devildom, alone for the first time since your arrival.

When you first arrived, an angel in a strange land, you were scared of the big, dark open sky, and the alleys where demons lurked. On your first walk to the house of lamentation, you were practically shaking, gripping your brother's hand like a frightened little girl. But as you roamed the streets in the direction of the party, the fear that you used to have for the devildom was completely absent. The place that you had such a strong fear of soon became like a second home to you. If you were honest, you felt like you belonged there more than in the devildom. 

The deep black skies that used to frighten you, you could only view them as beautiful now. Any time you’d look up at them, memories of stargazing with Belphie would swirl in your mind. Once terrifying alleyways were now fond thoughts of the time you and Mammon ran through the streets away from Lucifer after you had scammed him out of his wallet. Beautiful lights swirled around in the streets as you walked down them, feeling secure even though you were all by yourself for the first time.

However, as you approached the address of the party, the feelings of familiarity and safety began to fade. A faint smell of gasoline filled your nose as you approached a large, metal gate. There was a haze of purplish-gray fog that expanded over your white heels. You could hear faint devildom rock music coming from somewhere within the gate. Nervously, you stepped into line.

You pulled your fake devildom ID out of your purse. Asmodeus gave it to you on your first week here. “Just in case you wanna have some fun”, he had said with a wink. It really was a perfect fake. The bouncer looked at it as you handed it to him and gave you a once-over.

“I don’t recognize ya. Never been here before?”, he asked, handing the ID back to you.

“No, some of my friends invited me. They’re waiting for me inside, said it’ll be fun.” 

He chuckled at your reply. “I’m sure it will, little lady”, he said, opening the gate to let you in. “Have fun.”

Once he was out of sight, you did a silent victory dance, glad that your scheme had worked. You’d have to thank Asmo at a later date. You slipped the ID back into your purse as you took in your surroundings. An open patch of grass with a large tent near the front that appeared to be selling alcohol and food, the area dimly lit with purple and blue stage lights on the floor every couple of feet. You did your best to ignore all of the obvious safety hazards that they posed and continued into the venue. There was a DJ booth where some demons that you didn’t recognize danced. Okay, you could handle this. It just seems like a bar in a less formal setting, you can handle— oh. 

Up until this moment, you had completely forgotten what the party was about. But there was no way of forgetting now as a large circular cage in the center of the grass overtook your vision. It had its own set of stage lights, these ones yellow and white. A large dirt path stretched up to a platform which led into the cage. You noticed tire tracks in the dirt but you couldn’t tell where they came from. You hadn’t bothered to look up exactly what a ‘death cage’ entailed, but you were sure that whatever it was couldn’t lead to actual death. And if it did seem scary, nobody was there to force you to participate in it. You told yourself you’d be alright as you made your way over to the bar to order a drink.

“I’ll have a trashcan, please?”, you requested. The bartender nodded at you and you moved to wait in line. As you took your spot, a large hand grabbed your shoulder.

Fear shrouded your nerves as you turned around to face the man behind you. A black motorcycle helmet hid his face from you. He was head to toe in black leather, yellow lines adorning the cuffs of his sleeves and the top of his bike helmet. The gloved hand gripped your shoulder tighter, you felt it sting with pain.

“What in the fuck are you doing here?”, a familiar voice spoke from behind the helmet. You let out a sigh of relief at the sound. 

“Don’t fucking scare me like that, Mammon, you gave me a heart attack”, you scolded, pushing his hand off your shoulder.

“Good. That is the least scary thing about this place, you shouldn’t be here. If Simeon knew you were here he’d have my head on a spike”, Mammon chided. “Come on, I’ll call you a cab, you’re goin’ home.”

You shook your head. “No way, I’m an adult, I can be here if I want. Simeon’s not my keeper, I’d actually argue that I’m stronger than him. I can handle it, I’m staying.”

Mammon snarled and lifted up the visor on his helmet. “I’m not gonna tell you again, doll, you gotta go. Look at me”, he ordered, roughly grabbing your chin. “I’m dead serious, you can’t handle it here.” He leaned in towards you and whispered. “These are some of the devildom’s harshest demons, if they found out you were an angel they’d eat you for breakfast. They only tolerate Simeon. You need to leave.”

You huffed and dug the toe of your heel into the dirt. “For the last time, Mammon, I’m not going anywhere. I’m sick of everyone coddling me like I’m in the same ranks as the chihuahua. I’m grown.” You turned to grab your drink, taking a sip. “Now I’m gonna go dance”, you smiled and began walking away.

Mammon growled and grabbed your hand, pulling you back towards him. “Fine. You can stay”, he agreed.

You laughed and gave him a fake smile. “Aww that’s good, see how easy-”, you tried to speak but he quickly cut you off. 

“I didn’t finish. You can stay if you get in the cage.”

Your face twisted in shock. He couldn’t be serious. You didn’t even have a clue what the cage was and now you were just supposed to walk into it blindly? Hell no.

“No, I’m staying, but I’m not doing all that”, you laughed nervously, taking another sip of your drink.

Mammon smirked. “Oh, but if you don’t I’ll have to make sure your brother and Lucifer find out about our little runnin’ into each 0ther. We wouldn’t want that now, huh? I’ve seen Simeon when he’s angry, lemme tell ya, not a pretty sight.”

You looked down. He was right. The last time your brother got mad at you he went straight to Micheal. If he found out about this he’d more than likely clip your wings. You going with Simeon to the devildom was meant to be strictly for educational purposes. A fact that Mammon was now dangling over your head.

However, you felt this need to prove yourself to the demon in front of you. You were a big girl, you could handle a party. And what could possibly be so bad about a cage? You knew Mammon, he would never force you into anything that could result in you getting injured. What’s the worst that could happen?

“Y’know what? Fine. I’ll get in the cage”, you agreed. 

Mammon laughed. “Oh doll, you’re gonna regret sayin’ yes to this. Go get in the cage, if you don’t cry too hard, I’ll let ya stay.”

Well, it was now or never, and you had no choice. If your brother found out you were at this party, you were sure he’d get so angry he’d turn into a demon who’s power could rival even Lucifer. You shuddered at the thought of being subjected to Simeon’s wrath. No stupid cage at a stupid demon party could possibly be scarier than that. So, with a lump in your throat ever growing, you stepped into the cage. “Now wha-”, you turned around to talk to Mammon, but he had disappeared. You were alone in a cage in the center of the party. Curious demons gathered around, looking in to see you, murmuring something about how crazy you were to get in there. You noticed they were leaving space for the dirt path that lead up to the cage. You had no clue what was waiting to come down that path towards you, mind searching for a worst case scenario, but you truly had no idea what you were about to come into contact with.

The whir of a motorcycle engine pulled you out of your thoughts. You whipped around to see a large black motorcycle at the end of the path. You couldn’t see who was on it, headlights that stared you down like prey blocking your vision, but regardless, you knew. Mammon.

You could hear his laugh as he revved the engine once more. “No”, you thought. Surely, he wasn’t going to drive into the cage. That could put both of you in danger, what the hell was he-

Before you could finish your thought, he was speeding towards you faster than anything you’d ever seen. You gasped and covered your face and head, bracing for impact. But the impact never came. He sped into the cage, driving the motorcycle up the side and across the ceiling. If you weren’t busy being so terrified, you would take the time to be in awe of how he controlled the bike, his power on it more than impressive. 

You shivered and trembled in fear as he drove around you at criminally fast speeds. The way Mammon was laughing as he did tricks felt so taunting, tears of embarrassment and fear threatened to spill from your eyes, no matter how hard you tried to keep your cool.

Soon, he began to slow down. You breathed a sigh of relief, it’d be over soon. Oh how wrong you were. After about a minute of slow riding in a circle around you, the bike sped to life once more. You could hear Mammon cackle at the panicked squeaky gasp that escaped your throat, a few tears beginning to slide down your cheeks.

“Hey princess, watch this!”, Mammon shouted through his helmet as he drove circles around the sides of the cage. He slowed down by a margine and suddenly, one of his hands was on your waist, circling your body as he went around the cage.

You felt like everything was going in slow motion as you watched him, his gloved hand tracing your body with such care despite the fast pace of the bike. The fears that swelled in your stomach was slowly dulled, his hand on you in such away forcing them to be with another emotion. 

An overwhelming desire engulfed your body as his hand slid up your side. You had never been touched in such a way. It was only now that, despite the situation, you realized just how attractive Mammon looked in his biker gear. Your mind travelled to sinful places as you imagined what it would look like coming off. Feelings of lust quelled your mind as the thick air from the bike exhaust filled your nostrils. And just as all of the fear in your body, dissipated did everything stop. 

Mammon's bike slowed next to you and he kicked down the brake. He flipped up the visor on his helmet, a smirk gracing his features as the gloved hand that was just touching your body reached up to swipe a tear from your cheek. 

“You okay, angelface?”, he asked, making a point to stare you down as he licked your tears from his finger. 

Normally, you’d scold him and call him gross, but right now you were only focused on the sinful feeling in your gut. You could’ve sworn you had hearts in your eyes as you spoke. 

“Take me home, Mammon”, you said. He interpreted your words as you being afraid. But that was far from what you meant. You wanted him to take you home and then you wanted him to take you.

He laughed and patted the back of the bike, taking the helmet off of his head and securing it onto yours. You got onto the motorcycle behind him and wrapped your arms around his waist.

“Am I doing this right? I’ve only seen things like this in movies.”

He snorted in response. “You’re fine, princess”, he said, lifting the brake as you bit your lip at the nickname. “Hold on tight.”

And you were off, speeding away from the party as the wind blew against you. You held tight onto Mammon’s waist and rested your head on the back of his shoulder. You felt exhilarated as the wind blew against you at such a high speed. You knew you’d look deshelved once you arrived home but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. In fact, you hoped you’d look more of a wreck later that night.

He parked the bike in front of purgatory hall and turned the key, the bikes engine thrumming to a stop. He got off of the bike and helped you down, taking his helmet off your head. He expected to see a look of exasperated fear on your face, but that wasn’t what he got at all. He knew what plenty of your faces meant. Furrowed brow and a pout, angry. Wobbly lip and downward eyes, sad. Bright eyes that seemed to sparkle and a smile, happy. But this face was new.

“Thank you, Mammon…I should’ve listened to you”, you admitted. Your voice seemed to quiver with fear as you squeezed his hand but your face said something else. 

“Do you want to come in?”, you asked, lip between your teeth.

Oh? Oh.

Now Mammon understood what that look meant. He knew that if he went inside, Mammon would kill him. He knew that if he went inside, your relationship could change. He knew that if he went inside, he’d have to explain where he was to Lucifer tomorrow morning. But as you moved in closer towards him, he couldn’t bring himself to care about that. The only thing he cared about anymore was getting that tiny dress off of you and on your bedroom floor.

He smiled at you, sharp fangs glistening as he pulled you in. “Thought you’d never ask, doll”, he smirked, tossing you over his shoulder and walking you into the house.

“Mammon!”, you exclaimed, trying to pull your dress back down. “What if Solomon sees?”

Mammon snorted. “Let him watch for all I care. You have no idea how long I’ve been waitin’ for this.”

Mammon unlocked the front door and walked in, you still in tow over his shoulder. Purgatory Hall was usually rather quiet at such a late hour, but of course, there Solomon was. 

“Mammon, what’re you doing with my apprentice?”, he asked, sipping on his cup of tea.

“Well- ya see- …don’t tell Simeon-”, was about all Mammon could say, before carrying you to your room and locking the door behind him. You laughed as he set you down.

“What happened to ‘let him watch’?”, you asked, still giggling as Mammon blushed.

“Oh shut up. I should be the only one getting to see you like that. I’m your first”, Mammon reminded you.

“...Was it that obvious that I haven’t done this before?”, you questioned, looking down at the floor in embarrassment.

“Wha- hey, no-”, he gently gripped your chin, forcing you to look him in the eyes. “I had no idea, princess. I was talking about our pact. But now that you say that, are you sure that you wanna do this? Not to sound sappy, but I care ‘bout ya. I know purity is a big thing for you angels, don’t wanna take that from you if you ain’t ready.”

You smiled and turned your head slightly to kiss his palm. “Yes, Mammon, I’m sure. And the fact that you even bothered to ask that makes me even more sure of my decision. I want you, I always have.”

He growled playfully, grinning at you before pulling you into a kiss. You had been kissed before, sure, but this was different. You felt safe as he pulled you into it, lips locking together so perfectly. It felt like you belonged with him, belonged to him. Like your soul was made for his and as if he was gently sucking it from your body with every swipe of his tongue across your bottom lip.

He gently pushed you down onto your bed as he began kissing along the apex of your neck. You let out a sigh, hands grabbing at his white locks, a gasp escaping your lips as he bit at your collarbone.

“Fuck, I can’t wait to hear that sound all night”, he groaned, one of his knees sliding up between your legs.

“Gonna make ya feel real good, pretty girl”, he promised, gently beginning to move his knee in a circle as it pressed against your panties before biting your neck again.

The moan that escaped your lips was positively whorish. “Fuck, Mammon-.”

He smirked. “Can already feel how wet you are, pretty, y’gonna make a big mess? Seem like such a saint, but you're just a sloppy lil girl, huh?”

You nodded, grinding your hips down against him. “Mammon please- I need you.”

He laughed, pulling back slightly to pull his jacket off, discarding it on your bedroom floor. “Bet ya do, pretty girl. Need big bad demon cock to be satisfied, huh? Don’t care about angel purity as long as you got your man?”

You shook your head, tugging at the hem of his shirt. “Don’t need nothin’, just you, Mammon.”

“Fuck, doll, you don’t know whatcha do to me”, he bit his lip, before stripping down to his boxers. “I’m so hard for ya, baby.”

You sat up, admiring the length in his pants before looking up at him. “Can I make it better for you, Mammon?”

He groaned, palming himself while looking down at you as if you were his next meal. “Can’t take it when you say my name like that, doll- ya wanna make it better? How bout you show me what that pretty lil mouth can do?”

“Please- I don’t care how I get it, I just want you”, you begged, looking at him with hearts in your eyes. You felt like you were intoxicated, drunk on the man in front of you. “Mammon, Mammon, Mammon, wanna make him feel good”, was about all you could think. You wanted to feel him everywhere.

“I know ya want it, baby, but we gotta go slow. Don’t wanna hurt my pretty doll too bad…not yet anyways”, he smiled, pulling you closer as he took his cock out from his boxers.

You had seen porn before, sure, but nothing you had ever seen before could compare to this. Mammon’s dick was large, thick, and had a jacobs ladder piercing going down it. You salivated at the sight, taking your lip between your teeth at the thought of having him inside you.

“Come on, baby, take it…just be careful of those teeth, ‘kay?”, he encouraged, stroking his cock. You bent down, looking up at him as if he were a god, before taking the tip into your mouth. The taste of precum on your tongue was tart, but not unpleasant, as you fought to take him further down your throat, slowly making your way down his shaft. You left little lip gloss rings on his cock as you took it down your throat, gagging as his cock hit the back of your throat. 

He gently gripped your hair. “Careful, baby, take it slow”, he reminded, using the hair he gripped to guide your movement. “Bob your head baby, that's it”, he instructed, groaning as you got your bearings.

You moaned around his length, slowly beginning to enjoy the fluid motion of his hips rocking into your mouth as you took as much of him as you could, breathing through your nose. You felt dizzy, like the world was spinning, but you still focused on Mammon. He looked beautiful like this. You had always had a crush on him, sure, but this new sight had you feeling your heartbeat in your clit. White and gold hair was now a mess on his head, little beads of sweat blossomed from his brow, face flushed from pleasure. He had one hand in your hair and the other over his mouth but you could still hear every moan and groan of praise and pleads for more.

“Fuck, doll- I’m gonna cum, y’think you can swallow it all f’me?”, Mammon asked, words coming out in breathless whimpers as he tried to keep his hips still. You nodded, trying your best to keep from gagging as he jutted into your throat. He tugged your hair, cumming down your throat and sending a shiver down your spine. The taste wasn’t exactly pleasant, but it was tolerable, so you let the hot liquid travel down your throat as you swallowed before pulling off, breathing in fully for the first time in 6 minutes. “Fuck baby, so good, did such a good job”, he praised, hands coming down from your hair to stroke your cheek. “Such a good girl for me.”

You smiled tiredly as you leaned into his hand, basking in the praise, head still spinning. “Don’t think we’re done, princess. I still gotta get that sinful lil dress off’a ya”, he smirked, putting his dick away before pulling you up towards him and unceremoniously ripping off your dress. You gasped, hands instinctively coming up to cover your tits. He clicked his teeth.

“Dontcha be hidin’ from me now, doll. Wanna see it all, c’mere”, he instructed, taking your hands away from your chest and flipping you down onto your back. He pinned your wrists above your head, looking up and down your body, admiring every curve and edge.

“Just when I thought you couldn’t get more beautiful…fuck”, he praised, gripping both your wrists in one of his hands as his other traveled down to your breasts. You moaned as he cupped your tit, gently playing with your nipple as he watched your face contort in pleasure.

“Mammon- stop teasing- want you in me”, you begged, a pout on your lips as you spread your legs under him.

He chuckled. “Oh my sinful little doll, dontcha worry ‘bout that. I’m gonna fuck you so good you forget your own name”, he promised, his hand traveling down between your legs, two calloused fingers circling your clit. You moaned at the touch, hips coming off the bed in search of more. You’d never felt anything like this before, it felt so different from your own fingers, so much better.

“So wet for me down here, huh, babe? Haven’t even taken your panties off and my fingers are soaked”, he teased, applying more pressure to your clit as you whined for his touch.

“Please- wan’ ‘em off- need you”, you begged, nails digging into his hand as he held yours down.

“Don’t gotta tell me twice, pretty girl”, he chuckled, pulling your panties off and tossing them to the floor, making a mental note to pocket them later.

“Fuck baby, got the most pretty pussy I’ve ever seen. You’re just perfect everywhere, huh?”, he exalted as he slipped two fingers in. How wet you were made the stretch easy but the foreign feeling had you near climax before he had even really done anything, the wind knocked out of you.

“Feels so good- please Mammon”, you begged as he began moving his fingers, pressing into the spongy spot inside you.

“What baby, tell me whatcha want. Wanna hear you say it”, he ordered, curling his fingers in just the right way that had you seeing stars.

“Need you to fuck me, Mammon, please-”, you begged, nails scratching down his back, making him groan.

“Fuck baby, course ya do. I’m gonna make you feel so fucking good, gonna never want another cock”, he promised, taking off his boxers and spreading your legs. 

“‘M gonna go slow, ‘kay baby? Wanna make sure you’re feelin’ good, tell me if I hurt ya, yeah?”

You nod, pulling him closer. “Please, Mammon, I don’t care if it hurts- I just want you in me-”, you beg.

He chuckled, tugging you up by your hair to whisper in your ear. “I’m gonna make you regret sayin’ that, angelface.”

And with no other warning, he was sliding into you. The stretch was only mildly uncomfortable, the pleasure that filled your body and mind distracting you. You could see that Mammon was huge but he felt even bigger inside of you, he was all you could feel. And when you looked up, he was all you could see. He completely enveloped your senses in the best way possible. It felt like he turned your brain off with a single thrust.

Despite his prior statement, he did give you a moment to adjust to his size, checking every aspect of you for even a slight discomfort. As much as he wanted to mess you up, make you cry, ruin you for every other man, he loved you. If you could manage to focus, the hearts in his eyes would be clear as day. He wanted to break you apart and piece you back together.

“There we fuckin’ go, princess. Knew you could take it. Such a pretty lil’ angel slut”, he praised, thrusts growing more rapid as you left nail marks in his shoulders and down his back.

Your mind was dizzy with the pleasure and you had never heard such whorish sounds before, let alone from out of your mouth. Just minutes ago you thought his fingers inside of you felt big but this was another level and controlling yourself in any capacity was impossible. Suddenly, the angelic oath, everything you’d learned about saving yourself, anything your brother had told you were disappeared from your mind. All that mattered now was that you were Mammon’s. 

“Fuck Mammon, please-”, you begged without fully understanding what you were asking for. But Mammon knew.

“Fuck yeah, princess, I know what you need”, he assured, one hand moving down to rub your clit and the other wrapping around your neck, pressing into the sides to gently cut off blood flow, making your head spin. 

All of the added pleasure had your climax approaching faster than it ever had, completely overtaking your thoughts. Mammon smirked down at you, knowing what was about to come next before you had ever realized.

“There we go, baby, never seen such a pretty face on ya- can feel you squeezin’ on me, baby, feels so fuckin’ good. Come on, angel, cum on this cock”, he ordered, voice slurring as he was completely drunk on the feeling of your walls around him, yet still trying to appear cocky; that’s just who Mammon is. 

A wave of pleasure crashed into you like a freight train. Your legs wrapped around Mammon’s waist, pulling him in deeper as you came around his cock, walls pulsating. Mammon had fucked other people, sure, but nothing had ever felt like this. You squeezed his cock like a warm wet vice, and he swore that he’d never want for anything else.

“Gonna cum in ya, princess, gonna fill you up so good”, he swore before pumping his release into you, painting your gummy walls white before pulling out to admire his work.

“Damn, angel. You look beautiful no matter which hole I cum in”, he laughed before laying down next to you and pulling you into his arms. He brushed the hair stuck to your forehead with sweat out of your face and pressed a kiss to your temple.

“Did you have a good first time, angel? I didn’t mean all that shit ‘bout you bein’ a slut, promise”, he assured, holding you tight.

You were too tuckered out to respond, the past hour still making your head spin. You simply nodded and laid your head on his chest. Mammon swore he couldn’t feel more in love than he did right now.

“Get some sleep angel, I’ll clean us up”, he promised. And that was about all it took for you to pass out on his chest. 

Once Mammon had you both cleaned up, he laid back down with you, holding you and admiring your beauty as you slept. His afterglow was quickly interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Simeon’s gonna kill you”, Solomon spoke through the door. But Mammon didn’t care. You were his now. And he’d get murdered by a powerful angel a thousand times over to keep you.

[mamamittens]

Empty Cradles

This is part of the Spooktober 2024 Event, for context!

Summary:

Ace has the unexpected talent of story telling which his crew rarely called upon unless they wanted to be scared shitless. They'll tell anyone that listens about how fucked up his scary stories are and tend to leave everyone with sleepless nights. If you asked Ace, however, he'd dryly comment that he hadn't told one 'story'. Because they were all true. And now it's the Whitebeard Pirate's turn, throwing a party to celebrate the Spades joining up with them, the booze flowing freely.

Someone asks for Ace's best story--he offers the same protest as usual--but after a moment he relents. Taking a heavy swig, Ace addressed the suddenly spellbound crowd.

"There are no cribs in these woods."

No one looks at him the same way again.

(Platonic spooks only)

Warnings: Referenced/implied infanticide, harm to children, abandonment, and basically mind fucking illusions. Kind of gross and vague tree-demon-mimic thing. Pretty fucked, not going to lie. Tumblr murdered the format a little, sorry

Reader discretion is advised.

Word Count: 3,765

It would be a lie to claim that the Whitebeard Pirates never threw a party or only rarely did so.

Really, between islands and scuffles with often too-weak-pirate-and-marine-crews, a party was about the only thing to liven up the place. Either that or let the troublemakers get ideas, which was arguably worse than just tossing about a bunch of booze and food to let them play around with.

So it was hardly any surprise when, upon the successful—dear god he’s finally been stopped and not by death—recruitment of the Spade Pirates, Whitebeard declared a celebration.

It took a little bit of work to throw together—they weren’t that ready to party at a moment’s notice—but within the day there was plenty of food, booze, and company to have a proper celebration about the matter. The smaller crew integrating into small bubbles of conversation and games, letting them get to know their new brothers and sisters without the tension of their ex-captain attempting to kill their now current captain. Ace, the aforementioned attempted murderer, was equally having a blast.

And everyone was pleasantly surprised how charismatic the young man could be when he wasn’t pissed off about every conversation he ended up taking part in.

The young man ate like a whole herd of sea kings and the division responsible for mealtimes was getting a little worried—though Commander Thatch viewed it as a challenge and, possibly, an affront to his skill that there would be any doubt he could feed his family. As large and hungry as they were. Besides! Ace was a growing boy! And a D, so the appetite was hardly a shock to the seasoned cook.

No, the shock was saved mostly for how cheerful Ace was, old first mate by his side, as he enjoyed the bonfire and roasted meat. Commenting in agonizingly cryptic bits about previous meals he’d roasted that sounded a lot like bullshit coming from a man raised in the East Blue.

Alligators the size of Commander Jozu?

A troupe of monkeys as competition?

A tiger called King of the Jungle?

Nah, that was just boasting—surely!

But they’d all be lying if each little snippet didn’t leave them begging for more. And judging by the slow gravitational pull Ace exerted on his old crew, they were very familiar with his stories. Not to mention eager for more.

Thatch playfully attempted to sit in Marco’s lap, instantly getting thrown into the sand as the sun hung low on the horizon. Purple skies mixing with the dark smoke of their bonfire, casting flickering tongues of gold across Ace’s face as he stubbornly refused to admit he was lying—or even just exaggerating.

“—I don’t know why you guys keep asking for me to tell you more about where I grew up if you just claim I’m lying!” Ace huffed, chucking his beer to wash down a nauseatingly large mouthful of roasted meat. Thatch personally suspected that his devil fruit helped process all that food. There was no way a man—or boy—could eat that much red meat without slowing down otherwise. D or not!

“C’mon, Ace! You tell the best spooky stories! Real fucked up shit too—not like some of the other ones we heard that were just… mean. Or gross. In an uncomfortably pointed way.” Deuce huffed, his mask shifting as he wrinkled his nose in distaste. “The Bull Frog of the Swamp gave me nightmares.” He bemoaned, a sentiment shared with several ex-Spade pirates.

“Ooh~ What’s this? Our little brother tells good stories?” Thatch cooed, scrambling to sit beside Ace and lean against him, careful to not appear like he was about to steal the young man’s food—kid had a fucking carnivorous reflex about him. “Tell us! I wanna hear! We’ve exhausted all of ours! Some fresh spooks is exactly what this party needs!”

Ace gave him a withering look, silver eyes flashing with fire.

“Don’t you start. They’re not stories, Thatch.” He pouted, expression shifting to something that made Thatch’s insides squirm.

Haunted.

The young man—someone who squared up the Whitebeard, Yonko Pirate Captain and Strongest Man in the World for over a hundred days with intent to kill—was haunted by what he’d seen.

Either that, or he somehow hid a deeply convincing theatrical streak.

“Hey… you don’t…” Thatch wasn’t sure how to respond, not used to the almost vulnerable expression on the young man’s face. He’d seen Ace overwhelmed before. Drowning in his thoughts and self-hate. But never… whatever this is.

After a moment, Ace sighed, rolling his shoulders.

“Alright—alright, fine!” he huffed, raising his voice to an instant outcry of cheers. “I’ll tell you all about a time when I was… hmm. Think I was six? Maybe seven? And Dadan, my guardian, told me something—”

“Boo! It’s no fun if it’s a ‘a guy who knew a guy who told him that his cousin did whatever’ kind of story!” Someone absolutely smashed cried out, laughing his ass off. Missing the sharp glare Ace sent him, but not the spark of fire that snapped inches from his nose. Sending him reeling back into the sand, to which Oyaji barely gave a glance as he leaned in to listen closer. Eyes sharp with interest and growing concern.

Thatch made a note to not interrupt.

“—Anyway, she told me ‘there are no cradles in the woods’.” Ace finished, his voice falling soft and hollow. Eyes drifting to the fire and past it. Shoulders flickering with licks of flame as he seemed to fall back.

Back to when he must have been so small and frightened.

And, apparently, needed to be told there weren’t cradles in the woods.

--*--

Ace’s feet slammed into the ground with a satisfying thump. The Hag’s voice screeching far behind him about getting dinner. Bo was supposed to be scouring the trash heaps for treasure another couple of days.

Ace would join him, but got into a scuffle with some unusually well connected gang members and Bo suggested he lay low for a bit. Just until Bo could figure out who all was involved and how to get rid of them quickly. Which left Ace hunting for food as Bo concentrated on his own hunt.

It was annoying—Ace had gotten used to working beside Bo regularly—but he could live with it.

The forests were well traveled territory for Ace, as well as its many hazards. Monkeys, gators, and tigers wary of him after so many successful hunts. It was as satisfying as it was annoying. Meaning Ace had to either work on his stealth more or go deeper into the woods. Something he was—secretly—a little afraid of doing after the Bull Frog incident.

Every time he thought he’d seen it all, something else seemed to make it its personal mission to crawl out of hell and onto his ass.

The thick trees, wider than any grown man Ace had encountered in his short life, seemed to only grow more dense as he went deeper into the woods. Leaves high above weaving together into a dense canopy with infrequent flecks of sunlight ripping through to tumble onto gnarled roots. A deep, dank smell of undergrowth overpowering his senses as the birds eventually fell silent.

Ace, seasoned as he was in these woods, fell still in turn. Instantly suspicious of what could drive such a reaction.

Only the wind dared break the silence. Not even crickets chirping obnoxiously in the dense undergrowth. No river nearby to gently ripple at the edge of his hearing or soft, deadly footsteps of a predator stalking nearby.

Ace crouched a little, eyes narrowed as he scanned the dense trees around him.

There had to be a reason.

There was always a reason.

uuuu-waaaah! ooooo-wah!

Ace flinched, his focus so intense he was completely caught off guard by the faint crying he could barely hear over the wind whistling far above his head.

It sounded like a baby.

Ace had seen babies before. From a distance. Usually kept close to fretful parents or nannies. Small, squalling things bundled tightly in blankets, faces red as they wailed for no apparent reason. Shoved into weird clothes and cooed over ceaselessly in little carriers and prams. They seemed annoying, something the old hag seemed to agree about—especially when talking about himself as a baby.

But he’d only ever seen babies in High Town. Or maybe between trash heaps. Somewhere people actually choose to live. Not…

In the middle of the forest, fuck-if-he-knew-how-far away from anyone else.

Uuuu-wAAaah! OoOOo-WAH!

Whatever the brat was doing out here, they were pissed. And frankly, Ace would be too if he was shoved into those hideous clothes and then taken all the way out here.

It was weirdly hot and smelled foul. Like something was rotting badly after a summer rainstorm.

Cautious, Ace moved towards the sound. Pipe low at his side as he darted between trees. Getting closer to the wailing cries with every silent step. Eyes noting how the trees looked… off. Like the bark was soaked in something.

Sick, maybe.

Trees could be sick, Ace knew. Had seen them rot from the inside out and crumble under their own weight.

That rotting stench getting worse as the few specks of sunlight vanished behind him. Low, green light bouncing off of softened bark that oozed some strange, sickly liquid.

Strangely off-put by the growing miasma of the forest, Ace slowed down. Shoes digging into soft dirt between the roots that threatened to trip him with every step.

Oo-Ooo-WAH-AHHHA!

Ace stopped, body shaking as his heart raced. Something crunching beneath his feet like bird bones but he didn’t bother to check. Too confused about where the baby was.

It was close.

The baby… was close?

His head swiveled side to side, certain he’d heard it just ahead.

But there didn’t seem to be anything but dark shadows squirming between sickened trees.

Ace began to wonder if he was going mad.

Regardless of how fucking annoying babies seemed to be, people loved them. No one with sense would just… walk all the way into this creepy ass forest and drop it off like there was a wholesome daycare nearby.

Uoooh-hmp! Ooo!

The baby hiccupped, cries softening so close Ace began to worry some psycho was putting babies in the trees.

Then he saw it.

A flicker of yellow light to his right.

Sunlight?

Eating through the darkness of the still forest and skimming over a broken shape. Just a few feet ahead of him, in fact.

Ace shuffled forward, eyes squinting against the dark as he drew closer. Hair on end as a trembling vibrated his bones.

He needed to run.

But… the baby?

Just a couple feet away, the shape became more clear. Fuzzy darkness shifting and melting into coherent form. The stench of rot curling his nose but the steady realization drew him closer still.

The broken shape.

It was slightly crooked bars. Standing vertical to each other. Curling in?—no, standing straight. Can’t you tell?

Just a little taller than himself and wider than if he outstretched his arms by a considerable distance. Soft cooing and cries fainter than even when he first heard the baby. A small bundle squirming behind the bars. That breeze returning hot and foul, a little surprising that the baby wasn’t howling at the discomfort—Ace would be throwing a fit if he was left somewhere that felt and smelled so gross.

There was a creaking, the bars and bundle shifting in unison. The sound oddly sickening and wet but Ace assumed the dirt underneath it was wet.

Wet like the trees.

“This is my baby. You’ll take good care of him, won’t you?” Ace froze, looking up at the source of the voice. It was soft, almost a coo, just above the bars. For a moment, Ace couldn’t make out who it was. His skin writhing with discomfort as he breathed faster, flinching back as the rot settled into his lungs.

Then, with flickers of that yellow—so warm, isn’t it nice there’s a little bit of sun in this quiet, safe place?—sunlight, the figure took shape.

A little hazy in the dark, Ace could still make out the dripping—waves, it’s waves of soft pink—hair. The curve of a soft face with familiar freckles across her cheeks. A soft smile. Eyes that made him want to vomi—cry, because she’s crying too—and the shape of something just behind her ear.

Ace…

He had never met this woman in his life.

Ace knew this woman.

He was shaking, Ace distantly realized.

This woman… he swallowed hard, eyes burning.

“I can’t do this—I-I can’t—you have to fix my mistake!” she pleaded, soft smile and tearful, joyous eyes fixed on Ace. Her head dipped down to the crib and Ace’s eyes followed. He still couldn’t make out the bundle in the dark but assumed the baby was firmly swaddled.

Safe… and sound.

Maybe too swaddled?

Maybe that’s what she meant?

But Ace could feel the acid in his throat. The trembling of his hands on the cold pipe.

Everything in him was screaming but Ace didn’t know for what.

“I don’t care what happens to it! J-Just get it away from me!” She cried out, face still filled with triumphant sorrow.

“…this is wrong.” Ace whispered, trying to believe it.

Certain he had to believe it and fast.

UUUUU-WAH! UU-WAAAHHHH!

Ace jerked, eyes drawn to the bundle again and away from the woman who made Ace want… want to…

Scream.

Cry.

Run—

It was moving.

The baby was moving. Rolling over and looking in Ace’s direction. A small hand reaching out in the vast space of its cradle, a small sob calling to him. He stepped forward without thought. Not even sure what he would do to soothe the baby.

Maybe…

Maybe if he looked into the crib he could see what was wrong?

Ace stepped forward again, leaning closer to the bars. Instinctively holding his breath as the smell of fucking rot swept over him. His eyes adjusting to the dark quickly.

The bars curled inwards, towards the baby, making it hard to look properly. Ace’s foot bracing against the edge between bars and slipping. The baby squirming with discontent as he glanced around.

The bars were smooth?

No—straight and carved with flower motifs like the one in the woman’s hair—thick and secure. Perfect for protecting a baby. Harder to look after it, though, when Ace was so short.

He’d need both hands, wouldn’t he?

To climb into the cradle?

“I don’t want to be a mom.” The woman sobbed and Ace froze, heel planted between the bars, ready to lift himself up and climb in.

He sucked in a sharp breath, blinding rage filling him with the scent of rot—hand gripping the pipe with renewed vigor.

The fuck was he doing—climbing into the damn crib like a baby?

Metal clashed with wood and it gave a sickening wet SNAP!

UUUUH—WAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH! AH—AHH—OOOAAAAHHHHGGGHHHH!

The cries of the baby were deafening, warbling and warping into something deep and twisted.

Ace shot back, gasping for air as carved wood twisted and jerked, snapping closed over the baby—lurching up to the side with wet pops. The woman—she…

Ace watched in horror as those tearful eyes twisted. Sickly yellow light glowing against wet trails of puss and infection. Hair writhing in feathery tendrils as any semblance of humanity was stripped away. Rip pulling wide into a gapping maw of jagged teeth, head swaying as a thick tendril coiled out of the darkness, lifting up with the crib now completely on its side.

It was a horrible corpse of a thing, animal and not. Sick but sickened. Bars of the crib its ribcage as thick roots spasmed from under the earth. Head flopping loosely on its writhing neck as it howled with pain. Somewhere between the wails of a babe and the damned. Several of the ribs were shattered and blood spurted across the floor in a thick ooze of rot. Yellow and dark red mixed to Ace’s shocked nausea.

Even in the dark refuge of the dense canopy, Ace could see too much of it—he hated everything he could comprehend and whatever he could not.

The baby wailed from the thing’s mouth, vomit burning his tongue as he struggled to reconcile the truth of what he was seeing.

This demonic crib thing was trying to eat him—Ace focused on that.

It was hardly unusual for something fucked up to try and eat him. Practically normal, actually.

And just like everything else that tried to kill him—Ace was going to meet them with a blow from his pipe.

“Fuck off!” Ace screamed, his whole chest rattling with the denial of its existence.

The sick, twisted feelings it brough up in him. That woman’s face that was achingly familiar and wrong.

It let loose a deep growl, a faint wail of a babe in its throat as something wet in its chest rattled. Body arching up and up and up until it loomed over him like a snake. It’s exact body obscured in darkness and wet, rotting viscera.

And then it slammed down where he had been standing just a fraction of a second before. The trees trembling with the blow as he twisted his body like a cat, lining up his pipe to bring it down onto the thing’s spine. Or at least what he assumed to be the spine. The arching, brittle structure snapping with wet pops as it howled again, more infantile in it’s cries this time.

But Ace wasn’t stopping until it shut. Up.

Uuuu-wah! WAH! WAAAAAaaAAh-HAAAaaaahhhhH!

Smack—PLAP!

UUUU-WAH!

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! CRA-ACK!

Mmmaa-maaa—

CRACK.

Ace panted, uncaring of how the taste of rot filled his tongue or brittle things snapped under his shoes. Skin soaked in infected blood. Wooden bones shaking as the creature trembled in a loose pile of agonized infection. It seemed to quake, shifting into the dirt as it literally buried itself.

And Ace was too shocked to care.

The image of a shattered crib and a brutalized baby flickering in his mind long after it was gone. Leaving only bloodied earth and gore in its wake.

Ace didn’t remember the walk home. Only that he blinked at realized his eardrums were shaking with Dadan’s scream of horror.

“ACE?! A-ACE! W-WHAT’S WRONG?! WHAT HAPPENED, BABY?!” Dadan fell to her knees before him, hands hovering over his blood soaked skin.

It took Ace a long moment of soaking up the reassuring sunlight and chilled breeze on his wet skin to answer. Unable to meet her eyes.

“…there was a crib.” Ace’s voice breathed out as he cried.

Dadan fell still too and Ace shuddered, sobbing with horror at what he’d done.

“A-A baby—I-I—the baby—I—” calloused hands cradled Ace’s face and he was forced to look into Dadan’s horrified eyes.

“Ace… there are no cradles in these woods.” She breathed out, her words carrying a heavy weight to them. “Just… people who make bad decisions and things willing to… make them go away.”

Ace trembled, eyes squeezing shut. Sobs ripping free from his lungs as he was pulled into Dadan’s firm embrace. Her words drowned out in his head as she rocked him.

Ace was not allowed to go hunting for a while after that. Dadan only wanting to know how bad it was—if Ace killed it—before softly ‘grounding’ him. He was washed up and given a hot meal. His bed with Bo moved to Dadan’s room as she sat between them with a rifle in hand facing the window for weeks.

It took years for him to ask any further questions, and even then, he didn’t ask many.

“… did the cradle eat people?”

“…Babes, usually. Either tricked into being given or… willingly. Learned their cries with practice. You must have been led to the den.”

“…. If I had gotten into it, what would it have done?” Ace asked hesitantly, aware there were worse fates than death.

“It wouldn’t have called out to you at all if it had seen you hunting even once, for starters. Prefers weak prey. If you’re lucky, it would have just eaten you. If not… well… keep you screaming. Crying. Whatever it took. To practice for itself.” Dadan admitted softly and refused to elaborate.

Years later, when he was hunting with Luffy, he heard it again for the first time since the incident.

uuuu-waaaah! ooooo-wah!

Luffy was curious, naturally.

“Was that a baby? What’s it doing out here, Ace?” his little brother asked with a frown. Ace turned in the direction he heard the cries and whipped out his pipe, blocking Luffy from following the sound. “H-Hey, what gives—?!”

“Ssshhhh… hear that?” Ace asked, glaring into the dark.

The woods were still save a soft breeze that carried the scent of rot. Ace couldn’t say if he imagined it for certain though, given Luffy’s complete non-reaction to the faint, foul stench. Ace hadn’t noticed a lot of things until it was nearly too late, after all.

“…No?”

“Exactly. Listen, Lu. There are no cradles in these woods.” Ace informed him seriously, giving him a stern glare before he could protest. “No babies, either. Not alive, anyway. And don’t you go looking for them either.”

Luffy had pouted, ready to insist he was man enough.

uuuu-waaaah!—

“Fuck off!” Ace screamed and the call fell silent.

It did not call out again that day.

Or the next.

And Ace made it very clear to Luffy that there wasn’t any good meal to be had looking for it, or babies, or ladies, or anything but infected trees.

--*--

The burning wood popping was the only sound for a long moment.

Ace’s eyes still lost in the fire.

“…One day, I’m going back there. And when I do… I’m sending that thing back to hell.” Ace hissed with more venom than any had seen from him.

Thatch and Marco shared a look, glancing at Oyaji.

The old man looked a bit shocked and almost like he was remembering some horror story of his own.

“…well shit, they were right. You’re really good at this.” Thatch sighed, breaking the tension. Ace snorted, shoving him aside, and Thatch accepted the rough housing.

It was better than that lost, mournful, vengeful look in his eyes by far.

[darkaviarymc]

The Evergreens Enfold the Shrine, A recursive fic of The Incandescence of a Dying Light by @quaranmine

Title is from Another Grieving Forest by Alfred Kreymborg. Page divider by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

On June 12th, 1995, a group of campers at Pinnacles Campground in Shoshone National Forest decide it’s perfect weather for ghost stories. On June 13th, one of them takes a wrong step. The Ghost of Pinnacles Trail is just some harebrained internet legend... right?

Chapter 1

June 12th, 1995

-

A full moon shone brightly over Shoshone National Forest.  The spruce trees cloaked the small campsite of the three young campers in eerie shadows that danced in the light breeze.  There was still a notable chill in the late spring mountain air,  but these Canadian college students were used to the cold and were largely unbothered. 

They had been lucky to get this spot. It was the opening week of Pinnacles Campground, and they’d reserved a site with a fire ring, the only place where campfires were allowed.  It was there the three sat, chatting away and drinking the last of their beer. 

Beef rolled his broad shoulders and stretched his neck.  “I’m kinda tired, but I don’t want to go to sleep yet.”

“I feel ya,” Etho agreed.  “Makes the time pass too quickly.  I don’t want to go home yet.”

Gem laughed, tucking a stray strand of her long auburn hair behind her ear.  “I know, right?  I could stay out here forever; these mountains are so beautiful.”

“You guys wanna tell ghost stories?” Beef asked with a teasing smile.  “That way we can’t fall asleep.”

Etho skeptically narrowed his eyes.  “Hm.  I don’t think so.”

“Why not?” Gem teased and elbowed Etho in the shoulder.  “You scared?”

“I’m not scared,” he insisted a little too emphatically.

Gem laughed.  “Well, I’m gonna tell one then.”

“Noooo,” Etho groaned.

“Oh, come on.  It’s not even scary.  It starts out really tragic but ends up actually being pretty wholesome.”

“What?” Beef scoffed.  “Whoever heard of a wholesome ghost story?  That defeats the whole purpose!”

“We don’t want Etho to run screaming into the forest never to be seen again, do we?” Gem leaned in close to Etho and wiggled her fingers at him. “The ghoOohst of Pinnacles TraaAiLl will find you!”

A great gray owl hooted somewhere nearby, perfectly complimenting Gem’s spooky, if a bit silly, inflection.

Etho batted Gem’s hands away.  “Cut it out.  I’m not scared, okay?  I just don’t believe in the supernatural is all.”

“Neither do I,” Beef said.  “It’s all in good fun, eh?”

Etho sighed.  “Fine.”

Gem smiled and folded her hands in her lap.  “Good. Don’t worry, Beef.  I’ll try to make it a little scary.  So.” She lowered her voice in tone and octave and leaned in closer to the fire.  “The year was 1988.”

“This isn’t one of those ‘based on a true story’ ghost stories, is it?” Etho interrupted.

Gem waggled her eyebrows.  “Oh, it’s true, alright.  We can even check the archives in the library when we get back to town on Tuesday if you don’t believe me.”

“You owe me $20 if it’s not,” Etho grumbled.

“Deal.  Right, now where was I?”  Gem continued in a voice mimicking the ones in dramatized missing persons documentaries.  “In 1988, seven years ago almost to the date, it was a cool June night just like this one.  A cyclist set up camp just a few miles up the trail from this very spot.  Little did he know,” she paused for dramatic effect, “it would be the last time he ever would.”

“Oh snap!” Etho interrupted.  “Don’t tell me somebody actually died on this trail!”

“Shut up,” Beef said through his teeth. 

Gem continued, ignoring her friends’ interjections.  “In the morning he left his bike and backpack behind for a day hike.  The farther he hiked, the steeper and rougher he found the trail, and the thicker with smoke he found the air.  The wildfires in Yellowstone had ravaged their way into Shoshone Forest faster than any hotshot team, let alone a lonely hiker, could keep up with.  All it took was for the wind to change juuust a few degrees and point the fire uphill, and before the hiker knew it, he was cornered by the inferno!"

At this point, Beef wore a small, nervous smile and Etho was nodding along with his jaw clenched to avoid showing any real emotion.

“The hiker knew he couldn’t outrun the blaze, but he couldn’t go back the way he came.  His map showed a creek up ahead, so he ran.  He abandoned the trail and bolted in the direction of the creek, but he’d failed to account for two very important things.”

“W-what did he fail to account for?” Etho asked.

“The first is what everyone who goes hiking during fire season should know: fire travels faster up hill.  The second was that it wasn’t a straight shot to the creek.  His path was interrupted when he came to a dangerously steep hillside.  He tried to climb down, but the smoke blurred his vision.  The exhaustion made his hands shake.”  For emphasis, Gem held out her hands and made them tremble.  She watched with a morbid sort of glee as Beef and Etho stared at her hands, the firelight reflecting in their wide eyes. 

“The gravel gave way. His feet lost their balance.  His fingers lost their grip.”  Gem quieted to a whisper that could barely be heard over the crackling of the campfire.  “He fell.”

A dramatic moment of silence passed over the campsite.  Far in the distance, coyotes let out their screaming howls, as if to imitate in their own way how the hiker might have sounded as he fell.

“Did he die?” Etho asked.

“Well duh,” Beef answered.  “You don’t get ghost stories from people surviving.  So what now?  Do people say he can still be heard to this day screaming as he forever plummets to his doom?”

Gem rolled her eyes.  “No, dummy.  I told you, this is horror with a wholesome ending.  But we’re not quite there yet.”

“Oh?” Etho raised a eyebrow.  

Gem cleared her throat and continued the story.  

“The body of the fallen hiker was never found… until one year later in early July when a fire lookout was scouting out the trails in the exact place where the hiker was last seen alive.  Just like the previous year, a fire was moving at breakneck speed up Pinnacles Trail. History doesn’t repeat itself, but it sure does rhyme, and soon the lookout found himself cut off from the trail, just like the hiker had been.  Just like the hiker, the lookout ran.  And just like the hiker, the lookout came to the steep mountainside.  And again, just like the hiker, he lost his footing and went tumbling down!”

“So there’s two ghosts on this trail now?” Etho asked in shock.

Gem smirked.  “I thought you didn’t believe in the supernatural, Etho.”

“I-I um.  I don’t,” Etho stammered.  “Just, uh.  You’re a really good story teller, Gem!”

“Yeah.  Sure.  Okay.  Anyway, as I was saying.  Just like the hiker, he fell.  But unlike the hiker, the lookout survived.  And what he found at the base of the mountain was…”  Gem saw Etho and Beef’s anticipation, and drew out her dramatic pause just to get under their skin, “The thing the rangers had been searching for for over a year: the dead body of the fallen hiker.  Or what was left of it anyway after the bugs and coyotes were finished with it.”

Etho cringed.  “Thaaat’s disgusting.”

Beef nodded.  “Yep.  Nature’s as nasty as it is beautiful.”

“Breathtaking either way,” Gem said.  “But ever since the body was found and returned to the family to be laid to rest, there have been sightings described in outdoorsman’s forums of a man that matches his exact description.  A tall, broad-chested man with short black hair and a mustache dressed in a hot pink Hawaiian shirt and khaki cargo shorts.  Sometimes a bicycle bell can be heard ringing when there are no bikes for miles.  The thing is, he only appears under very specific conditions.”

“Fire?  When people go off trail?  The exact time when he died?” Etho guessed.

Gem shook her head.  “They say when there’s danger on the trail ahead, he’ll appear and point you back to where you came from to keep you from encountering a fate like his.  They also say that when a hiker is lost or injured, he’ll lead them back to the trail.  Last year near the end of the season, a woman and her teenage daughter were on Cloud Lake Trail when the girl fell down a hill.  She hit her head and was knocked unconscious.  The mother screamed for help but no one came.  No one except a man with a mustache.  She called out to him, but he disappeared into the trees.  The woman stayed with her daughter until a forest ranger came running up to her.  He said he followed the sound of a bike bell until he could hear her calling out, but neither the ranger nor the mother and daughter had seen a bike.  The ranger didn’t know who the mustached man was, either.  No one matching his description had a permit for anywhere remotely close to the Two Forks quadrant.  The only explanation for stories upon stories spanning the past six years of hikers on Pinnacles and Cloud Lake about the mustached man, is that the ghost of the fallen hiker still walks these woods.  He watches over hikers, cyclists, and campers and either leads them out of danger or leads rescuers to them.  The Ghost of Pinnacles Trail they call him: the benevolent watchman of Shoshone National Forest.”

Gem stood up and gave an exaggerated bow, and Beef and Etho cheered and clapped.

“Bravo, Gem!” Beef congratulated.  “You were right.  Horror with a wholesome ending.”

“Yeah,” Etho agreed.  “It’s all bunk though, right?  Like, some cryptid hunter probably saw a bunch of news stories, posted some whacky theory, and everyone else just piled on until it turned into a whole thing.”

“I don’t know exactly where the ghost stories started,” Gem admitted.  “But ghost or no ghost, there really was a hiker who looked just like that who actually died on the cliff at the end of Pinnacles in ’88.  And there really was a fire lookout who found the body during the wildfire in ’89.”

“All myths and legends are grounded in a bit of truth,” Beef said.  “It’s pretty awful, though, what happened to that hiker.”

Gem nodded and stared into the fire.  For the first time since Beef had suggested ghost stories, she felt no cheekiness or bravado. 

“His name was Mumbo.”

The three shared a solemn moment of silence for the fallen hiker.  For Mumbo.

Etho shook his beer can, finding just about a mouthful left.  He stood and raised up the can in the air.  “To Mumbo.”

Gem and Beef raised their own nearly empty beer cans and tapped them against Etho’s.  “To Mumbo!” They shouted in unison and together, they downed the very last of the drinks. 

“And with that,” Beef said, “I think it might actually be time to call it an evening.”

“Yeah.  If we want to do one last side trail tomorrow, we need to get an early start if we want to have time to go to the library,” Etho said, giving Gem a pointed look.  “I’m still holding you to our deal, you know.”

“I’m aware.  Give me your beer can.  I’ll put them in the bear box and throw them away in the morning.”

“Good call,” Beef said, also handing his can to Gem.  “I’ll wait to put the fire out until you're back.”

The bear box that each site was equipped with was a little over thirty feet from the fire ring.  There were some trees between the box and where their tents were set up, not enough to fully block Gem’s view, but enough that she felt just a tad bit isolated.  As beautiful as the mountains were and as clear as the sky was so far from any major city, it was that very beauty and remoteness that induced a feeling of unease.  She shuddered at the thought of being out there all alone.  She was with two of her closest friends and knew exactly where they were.  But even so, being just a few meters away, she already felt alone.  To be a ranger?  A solo hiker?  A fire lookout?  She didn’t know how they managed.  In that moment when she looked up at the full moon and more stars then she’d ever seen growing up in St. Johns, Gem felt a deep admiration and respect for each and every one of them.

It would be so terrifyingly easy, Gem thought as she stuffed the empty beer cans into the bear box alongside their food, to get lost in a place like this.  Her reading on the online message boards and multiple documentaries viewed on television provided her with countless such stories of that very thing happening of which Mumbo’s was only one.

Some versions of the story she’d read on the forums said Mumbo had gotten lost when the fire cornered him.  Some said that the fire had come in later, after he'd already been reported missing.  Still others say his disappearance and death was something… else.  Official sources like news articles tended to be vague, giving only the broad strokes.  Details were often kept away from public knowledge to protect not only the investigative process but the dignity and privacy of victims and their families.  This fact only served add fuel to the fire of speculation and theorization that let misinformation and contradicting stories to grow from its ashes.  Gem wasn’t too keen on the conspiracy or cryptid theories herself.  They could be entertaining to read about sometimes, though, usually with the company of a bottle of wine.

Standing here in the dark wilderness, she couldn’t fathom why anyone would actually believe in those things or even feel the need to.  Nature itself was mysterious and fascinating enough without government coverups, Sasquatch, or feral cave people who sacrificed hikers to the devil.

Perhaps, Gem thought, some people just needed something to solve.  

Something else Gem had learned in her research but had only truly come to realize this past week was that there is no such thing as a quiet forest night.  Crickets, owls, and the occasional coyote created chorus that sang of just how alone and surrounded humans were in the deep forest.  She remembered something she’d read one of the message boards she frequented, one of the more rational ones that was populated by serious hikers and forestry service workers.  A man who called himself “mrg00dtimes,” one of Gem’s favorite frequent posters on that particular board, posted once that you’re never really alone in Shoshone National Forest.  There may not be another human for miles, and it’s okay to feel that isolation, even to be a little afraid of it.  But the forest is full of life.  Birds, wolves (vanishingly few as they may be), coyotes, bears, dear, mountain lions, and so many other amazing creatures. 

Over half of the things on that list could eat her if they wanted to, though, so Gem wasn’t sure how comforted she was by that thought.

The woods In nighttime were haunting; that much was certain.  But we’re they haunted?  Was the wildlife the only company visitors to the campgrounds kept?  The moonlight cast long, dark shadows, and their swaying motion was as mesmerizing as it was disorienting.  Some things were shrouded in complete darkness while others were bathed in soft light.  Ones eyes and mind could start to play tricks on them if they looked at a single spot a little too long or let their mind wander while a leaf moved in a particular way in the corner of their eye.  These dancing patches of darkness could easily be mistaken for mysterious figures stalking in the foliage, the shuddering branches could be arms reaching to the starry sky if one’s imagination was wild enough.

Gem didn’t know what would be more frightening: being alone, or not being alone.

She heard a twig snap behind her.  She spun around with a loud gasp, reaching for the bear spray in her pocket.

Behind her was Etho, who laughed at the sight of the fear in her wide green eyes.  

“Did that make you jump?” He asked with a teasing lilt.

Gem huffed and punched Etho’s chest.  It wasn’t enough to hurt him, only enough to get the point across that she was no where near as amused at being startled so badly as he was.

“You’re a jerk, Etho,” she chastised with no humor in her voice despite the fact that Etho was still laughing.

Etho gripped his chest and staggered back with a comically over-exaggerated cry of mock pain. 

Gem rolled her eyes.  “Oh, cry me a river.”

Etho straightened himself out.  “We were worried about you.  Thought you got snatched up by Sasquatch or something.”

“Out of all the things in this forest that it could have been, you’re mind went straight to Sasquatch?”

“Just come back to camp, okay?  It’s time for bed.”

Gem followed Etho back to camp.  The surge of adrenaline she’d gotten from Etho sneaking up on her kept her head and eyes moving.  Her previous deep thought combined with this new hyper-awareness compelled her to check every tree and shadow.

Beef waved at them when they returned.  “Hey, you’re alive.”

“Of course,” Gem replied.  She puffed out her chest and stuck her chin out.  “You know I’m the undefeated Gemini Slay.”

Beef snorted.  “Yeah, well, I don’t know how much water an arcade rep holds out here.  Last I checked, there were no bears in Mortal Combat.”

“I don’t know," Etho replied, "The really hardcore competitive players are finding new cheat codes all the time."  Etho's eyes lit up with an idea.  "Maybe once regular classes start again, I can trick the freshmen into thinking there's a cheat to turn Liu Kang into a grizzly bear and get them to pay me for the code!"

"Aaand, on that note, I'm going to bed.  Night, boys."

"Night, Gem," they both replied.

Gem got into her tent and listened to Beef and Etho argue about the ethics of committing fraud against his classmates while she changed into a warm set of pajamas.  Soon the camp site quieted down as the men followed Gem's example and settled into their own tent for the night.

Gem closed her eyes and let the music of nature lull her to sleep.  But in her last seconds of wakefulness, the sleepy haze of her mind could almost be convinced of the sound of a bike bell ringing somewhere in the distance.

[ternfic]

Penance

Chapter Three: Bad Moon Rising

Unikitty bounded over as soon as she saw Emmet, Lucy, and Benny arrive, nearly bowling the spaceman over. “Your tactics didn’t work either, did they?” she ventured, and Benny pouted.

“No…”

“Tactics?” Emmet asked, giving the pair a curious look.

“I have a really bad feeling about them going on this trip,” Unikitty admitted. “We tried convincing the Cops and Busy to just stay and go to the party, but they wouldn’t hear anything of it.” She sighed. “I just hope they’ll be okay…”

“Why? Is something wrong?”

“It’s Halloween night.”

Emmet simply stared at her. “What’s so bad about Halloween night? It’s just parties and spooky decorations and costumes and little kids getting candy.”

Unikitty rolled her eyes. “That’s how highly commercialized it’s become, but that’s not what it is.” She sat, curling her tail around herself. “You’re probably too young to remember, and I’m not sure Bricksburg ever was all that much affected by it anyway, but Halloween is the one night of the year when the spirits of the dead can return to the realm of the living, and must be appeased before they go back. In most cases, it’s just family members coming to see that they haven’t been forgotten…”

“But?” Emmet prompted.

“But,” Lucy picked up, “Sirius and Cary made a lot of enemies over the past decade. I know Bad Cop tried to prevent as many deaths as possible in the fights they often got into, but he wasn’t always successful.” Unikitty nodded solemnly.

“Something Busy did during his reign kept them from being able to come back. I think the Kragle might have actually had something to do with that. But since the two of you destroyed it, that gate is open again.”

Emmet shivered and scooted closer to Lucy. “That’s… That’s actually real? It’s not just a scary story you’re telling to freak me out?”

“I wish it was,” Unikitty sighed. “But no, it’s all true. And I’m scared they’ll get caught up in someone’s plan for revenge.”

“I think they’ll be okay,” Benny said. “They’re more than capable of handling themselves. I’ll just really miss B,” he pouted. “But he made me promise I would try to have fun at the party tonight. So why don’t we set the solemnity aside for a while and at least go say hi to Dick?”

“Let’s!” Emmet agreed, eager to move on to less unsettling topics.

The boy in question was thrilled to death to see them when they stepped through the doors. “You’re here!” he cheered, rushing forward to hug them. Lucy smiled as she returned the embrace.

“Of course we’re here, we said we’d be, didn’t we?”

“Is that the Monster Mash I’m hearing?” Benny snickered.

“Yeah, it’s already started! My friends from the orphanage came kinda early so Grandpa figured we’d go ahead! Come on, I want you to meet everyone!”

They’d popped open the top as soon as the sun had gone down enough so as not to bake them, and Sirius had enjoyed the feeling of the wind for a while, but now, as it was getting dark and they still hadn’t reached their destination, he was starting to get obnoxious. Bad Cop had to agree with his whining; he couldn’t remember it being such a long drive either. The fatigue was starting to get to him.

“Should’ve just taken your flying car,” Sirius grumbled.

“You’re the one who wanted to ‘arrive in style’, Sir.” He paused to yawn widely, and Sirius glanced over at him, surprised.

“Want me to drive?”

“When was the last time you drove anywhere?”

“Geez, fine, just thought I’d offer.” He folded his arms across his chest, starting to settle into a good sulk, when something caught his eye. “Oh hey, look! There’s a hotel right there! Let’s stop for the night. We should be close enough we can make it if we leave early in the morning, right?”

Bad Cop looked over to where he pointed. Sure enough, there was a bright neon sign advertising vacancy. He opened his mouth to answer, but was cut off as his brothers weighed in.

I’m not so sure about this, Cary, that’s convenient to the point of suspicion. Besides, I thought the only hotel on this road was abandoned years ago?

Now who’s the paranoid one?

It’s not paranoia-

GuYs!! Keelan nearly shrieked them, and seemed to be done with words, as all he could manage was to shove a strong feeling of NOPE at them. That, more than Good Cop’s protests, gave Bad Cop pause. Keelan was very clearly freaked out by something, even if he couldn’t articulate just what it was.

“I’m not so sure about this, Sir,” he finally spoke. “Last Alastar and I checked, this hotel was supposed to have been abandoned, and something about it is freaking Keelan out pretty badly. Maybe we should just keep going.”

Sirius rolled his eyes. “Well it’s very obviously not abandoned now. It looks pretty well kept to me, and besides, you look ready to pass out as it is.” Bad Cop sighed and pulled into the gravel parking lot. “I think you guys have been listening to Unikitty too much, she’s got you all worked up over this. It’s just a night like any other, everything will be fine.” Sirius let himself out when they stopped and headed inside to get them checked in, and Bad Cop went to retrieve their suitcases. The weight of the iron crowbar tucked safely inside their own was reassuring.

He stepped inside to find Sirius speaking with the receptionist. “Certainly, sir,” the young man was saying. “We should still have several rooms available. Do you have a preference?” Sirius glanced back to Bad Cop, who simply shrugged in response.

“I think we’ll be fine with one room, as long as it has separate beds,” Sirius answered.

“Alright. Your room will be three-A, right down that hall,” he gestured in the direction of the room, “and here’s your key. You guys have a good night.”

“If I can lay down before I fall down, it’ll be an excellent night,” Bad Cop grumbled, fighting back another yawn. Sirius snickered and made his way down the hall, opening the door.

“Oh, not bad. Looks clean, at least. Décor could use some updating though, I think.”

“Sir, quit blocking the doorway.” He rolled his eyes and stepped inside, getting out of the cop’s way.

“I’m not really tired yet, so I think I’m going to walk around for bit. I’ll be back at some point.” Bad Cop grunted in acknowledgement as he dropped their luggage on the floor, then himself on the bed. He waved goodbye with one hand as he fished his phone out of his pocket with the other, bringing up Benny’s number and barely paying any attention as the door clicked shut. He hit ‘dial’ and waited, but didn’t hear ringing. Frowning, he glanced back at his phone. No signal.

“Figures,” he sighed. He’d go try to hunt for a signal in a bit, for now, he just really wanted to close his eyes…

Sirius hadn’t been lying when he’d said he was still too wired to sleep. He’d dozed several times during the drive, lulled by the heat and monotony of the desert. So now he wandered around the hotel, trying to walk off his energy, maybe talk with the other hotel guests. There was a surprising amount of people staying there, he realized, in the middle of nowhere. Oddly, he couldn’t really recall seeing any other vehicles in the parking lot…

While he was distracted puzzling that one out, he bumped into someone considerably smaller than himself, knocking them over. He paused, blinking down at the young woman he’d just sent crashing to the floor. “Oh my goodness I am so sorry, I wasn’t paying attention! I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he asked as he extended a hand to help her up. She ignored his offered hand and pushed herself to her feet, brushing off her dress. Sirius slowly pulled his hand back, biting his lip at the blatant rejection. Had he offended her?

“I’m fine,” she finally said after a moment.  “It was only an accident, after all.” She finally gave him a proper look, eyes widening in recognition. “You’re President Business, aren’t you?”

He relaxed, offering her a smile. “That’s right.”

“My name’s Tiffany,” she introduced, offering her hand this time. He took it, giving it a firm shake. “What brings you out this way?”

“We’re on our way to Rookburn to make nice. But the drive’s taking longer than we expected, so we stopped for the night.”

“We?”

“Oh, the Cops and myself. They insisted on coming along, thought it would be a bad idea for me to go alone, I suppose. What about you?”

“Same thing, actually! I’m traveling with my troupe, we thought it would be a nice idea to throw them a surprise performance.”

“So that’s why there’s so many people here tonight. You’re an actress?”

“Of a sort,” she grinned at him.

“Theatre?”

“Circus, actually.”

[l3visthighs]

Hey lovely Alyssa ✨

I hope you're doing well!

The Leviana fanarts you post are always amazing & I wondered if you could tell us more about your OC Ilyana? I'm really curious about this cutie!

Smooches 😘

Val, hi! 💕 how’re you doing?

Thank you so much for your question about Ilyana. It makes my heart so happy when people show an interest in her.

I have a little story I’ve been working on for a while for her & Levi. It’s just never seen the light of day because I don’t have a lot of confidence in my writing/storytelling. So it’s been more of a project just for me. :’)

I’ll insert a few paragraphs of it here though just to give a little more insight about her (her background, her personality, etc) <3

Year 843: 

That day had finally come; the day that Ilyana Hoover dreaded every single day since her adopted brother, Bertolt, had told her that he wanted to become a warrior. Today was the day she watched him inherit the Colossal Titan.  She couldn't believe it, she didn't want to. Thirteen years. Thirteen years is all she had left with him. For years she had tried to talk him out of it. But here she is now. Watching him train for his upcoming mission in Paradis with the now Armored Titan and Female Titan. She's going with them on their mission. She had already decided that long ago; she told herself no matter what the outcome was today that she would be there for him. She knows her brother. He's emotional, sometimes weak, and anxious. No matter what role they decide to give her in the mission, she would do it, she would go. If only to protect him. 

"I really don't think you should come along, Ilyana. It's going to be dangerous. We don't know what these island devils are capable of. Stay here and look after mom. She needs you." He pleads with her that evening. 

"You're really lecturing me over it being dangerous? Bert, you're scared of your own shadow most of the time" She sighs. "If I don't go with you and something happens to you, I wouldn't be able to live with that. I already made up my mind. I don't trust Reiner to protect you, either. You and I both know how hot headed and emotional he can be at times. Mom will be just fine. She's got dad here to watch over her. You know he'd never let her roam the streets alone." 

He shakes his head and pinches the bridge of his nose. She's right. He knows she is; and he knows there's no convincing her otherwise. His sister has always been stubborn. A bit hot headed herself at times. He knows she just wants the best for him. She's always been protective of him. But he can't help but wish she'd believe in him, just this one time. He knows he can handle himself. He's been through the training, he knows what to expect; what he's getting himself into. 

Ilyana always knew she was different from the others of her kind. Born a Marleyan but adopted at a young age by an Eldian family; the Hoover family. They’d found her alone on the street one evening and decided to take her in; a few years later came Bertolt. She never knew her real parents, nor what had happened to them. Every Marleyan here was disgusted by the Eldians. She had watched her family be talked down to, pushed around and spit at walking down the streets. But growing up and living in an Eldian family made her feel much differently towards them. She had read the history books, heard all of the rumors; But she refused to believe they were all as bad as the people of Marley had made them out to be. She loved the Hoovers. They had always treated her like their own. The least she could do in return for everything they'd done for her is watch after their son, her brother; blood relation or not. She would protect him with her life. 

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TLDR: Ilyana Hoover is a Marleyan; she was adopted by the Hoovers at a young age. She’s extremely protective over her brother, Bertolt. She finds herself feeling super sympathetic towards all Eldians; including the ones on the island. Shes confident, not afraid to hold her own ground/speak up for herself; but can also be extremely hot headed & rash. (Which causes for some bickering with Levi later on in the story) she travels to the island with the Warriors as a spy.

(Also all artwork of them is done by the lovely @/catyypss)