#I can’t wait to get to parts of the island with weather systems

[umichenginabroad]

The Great Barrier Reef (Week 5)

After a very memorable trip to Singapore and Bali, it was time to visit the Great Barrier Reef with my summer class. But first, Lauren and I had to take a train from Brisbane to Hervey Bay where we would meet up with our class and fly out to Lady Elliot Island (LEI). The day we had in the 3rd largest Australian city consisted of a lot of walking through the city streets, spotting spiders in the Botanical Garden, and philosophizing about human nature as usual. 

We were eager to get on our first Australian train that would take us to Hervey Bay, but after reaching the first stop and halting for the next 3 hours, we had started to lose hope. Apparently a tree had fallen down onto power lines which fell onto the tracks up north, preventing our train from moving forward. Southeast Queensland is notorious for having bad thunderstorms and flooding. With the canceled train and nowhere to stay, all we could do was wait patiently and hope that the train company would coordinate accommodation for us and secure us a train ride for the following day. Luckily, the train company followed through and we got to spend an extra day in Brisbane which we used to walk around some more and then watch Mean Girls in theater (I highly recommend giving it a watch). Seeing how patient and cooperative all the Australians were during all the train chaos was very inspiring and a testament to the lax culture Aussies embrace. Isolated from the rest of the world, people here seem to prioritize self-care and community instead of work and politics. When the weather is this nice all the time, I sure can’t blame them. Soon enough, we found ourselves in Hervey Bay, and then on one of the smallest planes I have ever laid my eyes on for just 12 passengers to get to LEI. 

Just like that, I found myself standing on a tiny island that would take only 45 minutes to walk around. 

A picture of LEI from the plane.

LEI is the southernmost point of the Great Barrier Reef and it’s known to be a breeding ground for almost 100 different species of birds, 3 species of turtle, as well as countless fish, rays, sharks, and so much more. It’s also home to an eco-resort dedicated to educating visitors about the surrounding coral reefs and wildlife while being fully self-sustainable. Through my class, we got behind-the-scenes tours from staff to learn about the sustainable practices used on the island including solar panels for energy, a water desalination and filtration system, and even a composting machine that could take any thrown out food from the buffet and turn it into fertilizer. In our spare time, students were free to snorkel, scuba dive, and explore as much as we wanted. Within the first 2 minutes of my first snorkeling adventure, I watched a small shark swim right below me, saw countless fish, and witnessed the beauty of an underwater world I never could have imagined. I had no idea that coral reefs came in every color from yellow to green to purple and that sea turtles use their flippers to itch their faces just like my dog, Roni, uses his paw when he has something in his eye. I watched a line of baby squid float side-by-side without a care in the world and a baby turtle poop as if performing for us eager snorkelers. I was introduced to over a dozen different turtles over the days and learned that my favorite part about turtle-watching was seeing them come up for air and poke their little heads up out of the water while they’re massive shells floated at the surface. Each shark I saw (all about the size of a dolphin or smaller) reminded me of their beauty and surprisingly calm nature, but impressive speed and agility. I also laid eyes on barracuda as well as a stingray in their natural habitat and I overcame my fear of scuba diving as I made my first dive down 12 meters! The experience was thrilling, but showed me that I could see the same beauty while floating at the water’s surface – a more comfortable location for a mild claustrophobe. 

A screenshot from a video where a shark swims under a turtle we were watching! 

All in all, the quick 5-day trip was one I will never forget and one that I will never fail to recommend to any future Australia-travelers (just don't forget to bring a hat to protect you from the bird poop!).

 Cheers!

David Bayer

Biomedical Engineering

University of New South Wales in Sydney, Australia

#umichenginabroad #ipeunsw #ipewinter24 #australia #davidbayer

[prof-peach]

Hey Professor! I was wondering if there's a story behind your aversion to water and water type pokemon?

Well yeah kind of. But it is a bit of a long one, so buckle up buttercup.

When I was very young I lived on a farm, a stones throw from the ocean, you could leave the back door, and walk down about 30meters and be at a cliff face that dropped down to rocks and waves that would crashed against the stone cliff face no matter the weather, and though the view was beautiful, it held a lot of danger. I was free to wander, my family were very free-reign with my upbringing, and so I had a lot of time to myself. They had to run a farm, handle a herd of 300 strong Miltank, plus the 15-20 Tauros, numerous gogoat, torchic, some Rapidash, mareep, you know, the works. No time to watch the kid.

Our farm was so far away from other people, I never got to hang with other kids, but I liked that a lot, never was social. So my one friend was Valka, an angry little vulpix who had been entrusted to me, instead of being put down. She had broken into the torchic coop and got herself stuck, after killing many of them. So after fighting for her life and arguing her case to the adults, I was granted her to prove I could reform her, or be trusted? I’m not entierly sure, it was a very long time ago, all the same, we paired up, and eventually bonded through reading and working together. A silent partnership, I watched the chickens, she watched me, it worked for us.

Where I was got nothing but heat, all the time, winter was hot, spring was hot, summer, like the devils butthole, autumn, hot but rainy. The sweet relief from this was swimming in the ocean. Back then I was confident! I’d wade into tide pools, hang around all kinds of water Pokemon, loved it, you could hardly get me out, eventually I got a little older and was trusted to use a reasonably sharp metal stick to go spear hunting for stunfish to eat, and krabby to boil up. It was good, even Val would hop about the rocky ledges to the tide pools, and accompany me far out, almost to the edge of the reef during low tide.

Little did I know the dangers I was right next to, as a child you don’t focus on that, you deal with what’s directly in front of you for the most part. So one day I’m out with Val, fishing as per usual, one of the farm staff was on the beach keeping an eye on me half heartedly, but we wandered round the coast’s harsh corner, into new territory, and out of sight. The rocky ledges were harder to traverse but I was determined, I had plenty of time to check out the new location and get back before the tide changed, so why not right?

One misplaced footing, that’s all it took, I slipped into a pool that was 4-5 meters across, scratched my leg on some dead coral, and sunk, way deeper than any rock pool I was use to wading into. This under water cavern opened up into a space that could possibly hold a Wailord. It was dark, and cold, and the tide seemed to pull me further down. Val being a fire type was adverse to get in, and I am to this day glad she didn’t jump in. With the water dragging me further down, I felt my whole body go cold as the light above got dimmer, and the pressure of being under that far began to hurt my chest, ears feeling like they’d explode under the depth.

The scratch I’d acquired on my way into this watery space led Pokemon to me, first small, a school of chinchou, they seemed passive and quickly left me to sink further. Then a great cluster of Staryu, one even tried to pull me back up to the surface, but they again fled, something moved behind me, made my blood run cold. I swivelled and clocked eyes with a Carvanha, one, then two, no three. I heard the area was riddled with them, but because I stayed in shallow water I never got too close, and seemed to consider myself safe. One got a little closer, but they all fled, something far bigger and way meaner was close by.

I heard water above me shift, something disturbed it, looking up all I could see was a figure, big but coming towards me, and below, another form shifted, the far meaner Pokemon everything had been afraid of. A Sharpedo, white tip on its fins, rows of teeth as it’s mouth hung open, coming at me with unnervingly slow speed. I’m usually pretty chill with Pokemon but this one just didn’t take its eyes off of me, seemed to look through, I was snack sized compared to this thing, and it was very aware of that.

As the air began to run low, and fear set in I struggled and kicked, and squirmed, and did just about everything I could to look bigger and meaner than the Sharpedo, who just kept slowly swimming forward, so calm yet completely focused. It took a bite at me, enough to nick my leg, but I was pulled to one side, by a familiar family Pokemon. My mother had a particularly kind Azumarill, who had noticed torrents of fire being spewed from Val as she sent an alarm to my disappearance above the water I had sunk beneath. The big water mouse Pokemon had dove in from the cliffs at the end of the garden and come to the rescue, just in time too.

We all jetted our the ocean at such speed, landing hard on the coral rocks, scrapes and scratches, covered in cuts from impact, the shadow of that Pokemon that stayed in the deep rock pool vanishing into tunnels. I never ran so fast to get to land, it was far too close for my liking. I did not volenterily get in the water again after that.

In the years ahead while I stayed on the land, occasionally fishermen would be pulled to shore, missing limbs, some not surviving the waters. There was sightings of that same Pokemon, out far in the deeps, past the reef, but occasionally its white tipped fin would be seen in the odd deep pool, waiting for something to fall in.

I couldn’t get back in the water after that, not confidently. It’s not that I don’t like water Pokemon, I love them, most are very kind, well rounded and certainly fun Little dudes, I just can’t give them the care and time I would like, I don’t like to be in the environment they prefer, and getting into a man-made pool with them is about as far as I can go. I use to not even manage that, it’s taken me years to get ahold of my fears, and now I will happily don waders and get into fresh water ponds and lakes if they’re small enough and trustworthy. I do all the pond care on the island, but rivers and the ocean are still a no go for me. I don’t mind a boat ride, I can stomach a wade into water up to my knees, but any further and I lose my cool.

Over the years I can count on one hand how many times I’ve been fully submerged, and none of them have been pleasant. The only time I willing have gone into water is to get Val, who had been thrown in herself. She was afraid, I had to go get her out.

Now days Professor Grey handles mostly all of the ocean based work, and I get a lot of time with his water Pokemon when they come on land, so it’s been easier being around the ocean as a whole, and coming to terms with my weaknesses. Don’t think I’ll rush to get in anytime soon but it’s not something I’d never do at any cost. I know it’s beautiful down there, and it holds some special memories for me, so there will always be a quiet respect for it all, and the things that live in it.

Despite fears I would never condemn Sharpedo as a Pokemon, I have had the joy of working with some lovely individuals, and despite my personal aversion, I know they have a huge part to play in the eco system, and hold great importance to many other species and the way the environment manages itself. They are good, I just got a bit of bad luck with the one I had a close encounter with.

#pokemon #prof.peach #peach talks

[blackhatandfriends]

I absolutely love your writing (the villain bar owner story is 👌👌👌! May I request a doc where reader gets captured by a group who want to use them as "leverage" against Black Hat so he comes and wrecks shop, but accidentally scares reader because he's never been *that* level of wreck shop before?

A/N: Thanks for the request and the compliment Anon! I really liked writing the bar stories. :)& Anyways! Here’s your request, hopefully it’s what you were looking for!

Warnings: Gore, Blood, Torture...idk man this one is fairly violent.

Black Hat shot you a glance.

“Going out to that garden of yours?”

You nodded, “It’s coming along. We’ll see how fruitful it ends up being.”

“Indeed.” He said, going back to flipping through paperwork. You turned to leave, but Black Hat added, just before the door closed, “I’ll need to see you back in here in a few hours.”

“Okay.” you said, rolling your eyes. He didn’t need you for anything, you knew that. But you wouldn’t dare say no. Besides, spending time with him was nice as you’d grown to enjoy his company.

_________________________

You sat back, dusting your gloved hands off and admiring your work. Despite the constant dramatic weather on Hat Island, you’d managed to begin growing a small garden and your first flowers were starting to bloom.

However, while you were sitting there, triumphantly basking in your defiance of the island’s weather, something hit your neck.

You tried to stand, already woozy from whatever had just been shot into your system. You reached for the gun at your hip, but didn’t find the target in time. A few more rounds of darts shot out of multiple points in the trees. You tried to doge but two more planted themselves into your leg. A shot in the direction of one earned you a cry of pain, however the world went black shortly after.

__________________________

When you awoke, voices faded into your conscious. They were all to your left, faint at first but soon you were coherent enough to make out what they were saying.

“Are you sure you got the right one?” a gruff voice asked, “They don’t look all that special.”

“No, this is the one, for sure.” another, more articulate voice said, “Our spy network is fairly certain that this one is the most valuable asset out of all of his underlings.”

They were talking about Black Hat. You chided yourself for being so careless. He’d never let you hear the end of this. Or rather, he would have, if you ever saw him again.

You let your eyes open, quickly taking in the details of the space. Your kidnappers had you strapped onto a large metal table. There was an IV in your arm, which you decided not to look at for too long. You couldn’t tell what they were feeding you anyway, though you assumed it had something to do with how drained you felt.

“Ah,” that was the voice of the articulate man. You could now see that he looked the part, wearing a pristine button down shirt and slacks, even his tie seemed crisp, “You’re awake.”

You squinted at him, hoping that maybe if you did so hard enough, he would burst into flames. The other voice, wearing a similar outfit to his companion but with a suit jacket and no tie leaned into you.

“Oh I can’t wait to see what your boss forks over to get you back.” He smiled, you could smell smoke on his breath.

“You’ll never get anything out of him!” you spat, pulling away from him.

“Oh we don’t need to get anything out of him.” the other one smiled, “You’ll do all the work for us.”

___________________________

Flug could hardly stand to watch as they skewered your side on the tape, made even worse by the anger that radiated off of Black Hat in curling, twisted waves, like a black fire in slow motion. You were trying to keep yourself from crying out in pain, but the look on your face spoke volumes.

“Doctor.” the “r” of the word hung on his boss’s tongue, “Where is this signal coming from?”

_________________________

The abandoned warehouse sat on the edge of the city, an old and terribly cliche hideout. Not to mention that Black Hat could clearly see some of the modifications they had made to the building from the outside. That giant ray gun was poorly concealed at best.

He made his way past the perimeter with ease, killing the boy they had posted at the gate and both the men in the booth near the door. He didn’t bother to take a key from them, opting instead to slide through the wall, startling the two guards on the other side. He grabbed one by the shirt, holding him up and flashing his pointed teeth.

“Where..are...they?” the guard in his hands fainted at the question. Black Hat looked up to his partner, who simply pointed a shaking hand down the hall and mumbled out a nearly unintelligible, “Room 44”.

He killed them both of course, moving down the hall as more and more guardsmen poured into the hallways.

Fools. He smiled wickedly. Absolute fools.

__________________________

You heard the determined shouts of guardsmen outside the door, then you heard the hopeless screams. It was the first distraction from the pain in your side in a while, and you found yourself focusing more and more on it as the screams drew closer. The guards watching you, along with the few organization higher ups that were playing cards to your right started talking to one another. One of the leaders, the one with the suit but no tie, approached the door. But it opened with a bang just as he reached it.

Black Hat stood there, holding a disembodied arm with a key card. There was blood on his clothes and an unnerving smile on his face. His eyes moved to you for a moment, then to the man in front of him.

“What...What did you do?”

“Nothing you won’t soon know yourself.” his voice carried the wail of thousands behind it, “Bud Pine.”

“H-How do you know my-” but he never got the chance to finish that question. Instead, Black Hat all but disappeared, and left carnage in his wake.

He was terrifying, like a dark whirlwind of malice. You felt yourself push back into the metal slab in an effort to get away from the overwhelming feeling of pure evil that had overtaken the room.

Walls were coated in blood as he moved from person to person, their bullets were useless.

He wasn’t human.

You’d known this before, of course, but now...being confronted with it so blatantly...it scared you.

When he finally got near your slab of metal, you flinched. It was slight, but he noticed. He always noticed. There was a look to him, covered in blood yet seemingly unfazed, eyes lit up in a strange tangle of anger and excitement. It made you uncomfortable when struck against the feelings you had for him.

“I’m sorry.” you apologized as he released you from your restraints, slicing through them with ease.

“Did I...scare you, my dear?” he asked, waiting patiently with an outstretched hand. You could tell he noticed you wait just a moment longer than normal, but you did take it. He helped you up, but seeing the struggle it was, opted to lift you into his arms instead.

“I’m sorry, sir.” You said, looking up to him, “This shouldn’t have happened.”

“We’ll talk about it later.” he said voice stern, but there was something underneath the hard tone….something softer.

You opted to accept that response, and relaxed in his arms, feeling surprisingly safe as the darkness radiating off of him dissipated.

_______________________

Black Hat could see you were expecting to be reprimanded. It’s what he would have done if it were….if it were someone else he’d come to rescue.

You seemed to be over your fear of him. It had been a while since he’d allowed himself to indulge in that much violence, let alone have anyone see him in such a state. He wondered if it hurt your opinion of him. But then you began to cuddle into his chest.

He let you do so grateful that you wouldn’t be seeing the corpses that lined the halls and dotted the building’s perimeter as he walked the both of you back home.

_____________________

Black Hat and Friends Master List

Hey! If you’d like to support me and the work that I do here and on my other blogs, please consider checking out my support page or consider buying me a coffee!

#villanos #Villainous #black hat #black hat x reader #ask

[cosmicbash]

#8 of angst sentence starters for emgk?

"Is that blood?" "....no?"

TRIGGER WARNING: REFERENCED SELF HARM

-----

"Stupid prick-" Colson muttering under his breath, rubbing his cold hands together and puffing warm air over them with his mouth while he settles into his admittedly warmer standing spot right in the main foyer of Marshall's mansion.

He feels stupid.

He shouldn't even be here, in the house, in the neighborhood, fuck in Detroit at all. Not when a few hours ago he had blown up Marshall's phone with a dozen dramatic texts. Curses and promises that he was really done this time. That he wasn't putting up with the bullshit, and the lieing, and the hiding any longer. Hell, he'd even texted the asshole a screenshot of a last minute ticket home he'd booked.

A flight that just took off about 30 minutes ago. Around when Marshall's last pleading text had come through and he had outright lied and claimed to be on it.

Obviously he wasn't. No, instead he'd spent the last 3 fucking hours huddled up in the bushes of his boyfriends house. Wrapping himself up in his expensive fuzzy jackets and keeping himself warm off the boiling rage inside his gut.

Inevitably it had run out though, and the bitter Detroit nights had won their war against him too.

In LA crashing outside for the night over a petty squabble was totally possible. Downright easy most times of the year. But here? Where his humid high temperature weather preferring body was constantly fighting off a chill even on the sunniest day? It was impossible.

A toxic part of Colson wanted to hurt himself, sure, a little bit of self harm always followed these kind of manic blow ups in the days before Marsh. But the part of him that hurts just from seeing Marshall hurt over his stupid choices keeps those thoughts at bay.

It's what got him finally giving in and slinking back to the front door. His boyfriends genuine trust to give him the security code the only thing saving him his last shreds of dignity while he padded back inside.

He's not going to go crawling up the stairs and back into Marshall's bed though. Not even if the waiting warm body and even warmer makeup kisses await.

No, Colson's still got a flicker of anger resting in his belly from earlier. At best he's going to go sleep in one of the guest rooms. Just, silently sneak himself in there and await for the morning to come and for the sounds of Marshall spotting his bag in the foyer and rushing through the halls to find him.

He wants the asshole to really get it through his head this time.

That they can't keep hiding this forever.

Colson doesn't even want to be fully out, that's not a necessity here. He just wants to be a "friend". Someone who can openly visit Detroit and boast about his boyfriends new music in interviews. Who can drive to Marshall's studio and enter through the front door instead of some shitty secret alley entrance.

Colson just wants the basics. He wants to at least be able to stand up and say his boyfriends fucking name without the media going nuts and speculations rising about their "beef".

Is that really too much to ask after almost 2 years of sneaking around?

A loud clatter and string of curses from the kitchen almost scares a scream out of Colson. He's standing a few stairs up from the landing, his careful quiet stride temporary abandoned in favor of freezing.

Marshall's awake.

Of course he is. Why wouldn't he be? Colson knows he wouldn't actually be able to sleep if Em had been the one to dump him and take off in the middle of the night. So why would he assume Marshall would be any different? If the dick truly loves him as much as Colson loves him back than sleep will be impossible.

It definitely throws a wrench in the blonde's original plan. Theres no way he's hiding out until morning now, not when Marshall's going to spot the bag the second he leaves the kitchen and drags himself back up to their room to mourn his absence.

He could snag his bag and try to sneak the rest of the way upstairs, but, then how will Marshall know he's here? Waking up early to surprise the dude doesn't sound very appealing either.

So Colson hesitates. He shuffles his weight from foot to foot, lip chewed between his teeth while he weighs his options.

Talking over it all tonight feels still too soon.

Another crash. This time one with very audible glass shattering and a defined scream of anguish following it.

Both of which are more than enough to make up Colson's mind for him. His feet moving and heart racing before he can even finish his small gasp of surprise.

He can't leave him. Not after hearing that wail. He's never heard Marshall get that loud, or sound that broken amidst all the anger. It wrenches his heart right in two. Half flying right to the kitchen while the one still inside him drags itself along. Clinging desperately onto the stretched muscle tissue and tendons still holding them "together".

He's expecting broken plates. A good old post breakup fine China inventory session to ease some of the pain. He's done those a few times himself. It's therapeutic.

And yes, he does find porcelain and ceramic, and fucking glass sprinkled across the tile floor and across a few countertops. But that's not the only thing he finds decorating the marble.

"Is....is that blood?"

Suddenly his voice feels small. His heart does too, like its shrunk down into a tight ball and dropped to the pit of his stomach.

His eyes are locked on bright crimson.

There's drops of it, and then a splatter, he doesn't want to call it a puddle. Because a puddle would be bad. Calling it a puddle would mean all those rapid worried thoughts banging at the door to his subconscious about Marshall purposefully hurting himself would need to be let in. A splatter can still be from an accident.

There's nothing but silence meeting him in the kitchen too. So quiet that Colson can hear the seconds literally tick by on the clock. Every one loud and defeaning in his ears until just when he's about to choke out a frantic call of his boyfriend name, Marshall responds.

"...no?" It's quiet, quieter than even his own shocked question had been, and redirects Colson's gaze a few feet further away. To where he can see bare feet peeking out from behind the island.

Colson wants to drop to the floor from relief alone. His hand already covering his fast beating heart and eyes closing to thank whatever fucking deity exists above that his stupid boyfriend had obviously just cut himself smashing a few plates. "Fuck Marshall. You scared the shit out of me-" already whatever anger he still had lingering in his system feels snuffed out. A hysterical half smile tugging at his mouth as he side steps the broken shards littering the kitchen linoleum. "I thought you-"

"W-wait! Don't come in-" Colson's feet almost stumble him right to the floor himself in his sudden stop. That earlier knot returning to his stomach with a vengeance over Marshall's sudden shift in volume and tone.

The rapper sounds terrified.

"I-I thought you- You said you were done? You, fuck Colson, you sent me the ticket, you- you left!" He's never hear Marshall this frazzled, unstable. His voice steadily climbing in volume until he lets out a shout that rings Colson's ears. "You're not supposed to be here right now!"

It's the second push Colson needs to get himself moving again though. His feet stumbling the rest of the way forward to finally round the countertop.

"Shit...Marsh..."

This time Colson does let his body drop when his legs feel like they're going to give out.

Imagining even for a second Marshall hurting himself had hurt, but seeing it? Seeing his actual physical boyfriend right in front of him clutching some stained rag over his wrist all red in the face, tear tracks drenching his cheeks, and knowing it's all because of him taking off like a child? Thats so far beyond hurting. It's off the charts.

"I'm sorry."

#and gonna end it there becuase holy shit #that drug out very long #sorry #emgk #asks #i love asks #tw triggers #tw #twigger warning #tw: self harm #tw:sh #sh #i domt know if thats how to tw it

[mystic-pen]

How RFA Reacts to the Quarantine

YOOSUNG

Now y’all can’t tell me this boy watches the news or ever leaves his house. No way he’d know what’s going on. All he knows is no class.

He was about to step out to go to the convieniece store the when you grab his sleeve and inform him he’s not supposed to go outside because of the virus

His exact reaction is ??? !!! WHAT

worried boye mode has been activated

He immediately calls his and your family to check up on them and see how they’re doing you’ll be seeing a lot more of this

he knows that there’s only so much he can do as a broke college student so he takes the reccomended actions for staying safe and limiting the spread of the virus

despite how awful the conditions are outside, Yoosung tries to keep your mind off of it. He’s more than happy to spend more time with you! Yoosung is a snuggle machine so hugging your fears away is his specialty!

ZEN

Right as you two are getting ready for a date night, you get the alert to stay inside unless completely necessary on your phones

“Sorry Jagi, we need to take a raincheck this time!”

The beast never gets sick but he’s still worried about you so he tries to limit the amount of times you guys go out.

His solution is indoor dates! Watching movies, cuddling, hugging, and pretty much any other activity that requires his hands on you

When he hears about how local businesses are suffering because of the virus, his heart immediately drops thinking about the sweet old man who sells taiyaki

He makes sure to try and donate to these local buisnesses as much as he can so the owmers and their families can at least afford necessities.

JAEHEE

She’s out of work for the time being so she gets to spend time with you while also being away from Mr. Han and his cat.

Finally the small tubes of hand sanitizer that somehow have accumulated in her desk drawer will come to good use!

Because she is mommy™, she is worried about her friends and you. She makes sure to check a reliable source so she can find accurate information on the spread of the virus and how to prevent it.

Obviously, part of her job is to report back to Jumin so he can broadcast this information to the rest of the office. Just assistant tingz

While she’s off work, there’s more time for you and her to watch Zen’s soap operas and fangirl over them together. IDK maybe you two are sinning and... having premarital hand holding

JUMIN

He’s getting information from Jaehee so he can send information to all of his employees

Rich boy doesn’t even flinch as he donates millions to research facilities and hospitals

He’s seriously debating weather he should fly the two of you out to his private island and just wait for everything to take its course.

You argue that you want to keep close tabs on your friends and family so you need to stay

The man won’t leave you alone so he’s staying too. He decided on giving it to his father since he’s older and more likely to get sick.

Since he pretty much owns a chain of pretty much any store, he has the necessities down. He makes a point to try and make more than what’s needed to prevent the shelves of his stores running dry.

Besides what he’s doing for the outside world, he’s taking proper care of you and Elizabeth indoors. Cuddles, petting, kisses! Pretty much everything he does in his time off but more.

Speaking of Elizabeth, she’s not used to having everyone home all the time and you think she’s getting suspicious...

707

his dad jokes are somehow getting worse over the course of this quarantine and everyone is suffering because of it

“But Vanderwood, I can’t do my work!!! My computer has a virus” *gets hung up on*

You can tell he’s making jokes to cover up how worried he is for everyone. His lighthearted demeanor vanishes into thin air when you mention needing to go out for groceries.

“I can’t let you do that. It’s too dangerous”

He’s INSISTENT that you use hand sanitizer and leave the house in what’s essentially a hazmat suit.

The Defender of Justice will never let you or anyone around you get sick. He’s cracking down on you AND Saeran (who is just as into it IF NOT more)

He’s donating to orphanages, hospitals, and pretty much every other place that needs materials with the money he was going to use for another baby car.

SAERAN

you: ACHOO

him: *sprays you with lysol*

Like Seven, he’s concerned with health, but since he personally has a damaged immune system from his time with Rika, he’s on sicko mode

If you cough, he pulls out an alcohol wipe i meaaan would you let him wipe you down head to toe 👀

He still loves your kisses but he’s debating the pros and cons

Cons: I get sick. Pros: kisses

It’s a hard decision but he gives into the kisses

His flower shop is currently closed due to the quarantine and his brother is supporting yoy two financially so he’s spending all the time he can with you! as soon as he stops being paranoid

V

His eyesight might be bad, but he can still see that people need to trust in the health providers and follow the rules

He has no problem social distancing becuase let’s be honest he does it all the time even when there’s no pandemic.

He’s happy to spend quarantine with you because ever since he met you, spending so much time by himself has made him lonely

Even though V is financially ok, Jumin still feels the need to send him money. That leads to V feeling bad and sending the check back, and Jumin sends it again. It’s like a really slow game of tennis until V just ends up donating it.

As for donations, V regularly donates to children’s hospitals, homeless shelters, etc. The amount he donates has just gone up.

He paints pictures for children’s hospitals so the kids can have a brighter environment in this gloomy time.

Most of the activities you and him do together aren’t affected by the quarantine so you can still do the things you love! Slowdancing in the kitchen while dinner cooks is a favorite between you and him!

As for necessities, V is covered. He’s the type of guy to buy a years worth of food on January 1st so he can spend more time in private with you.

well there you have it! I know I’ve been inactive in this community a LOT in recent months but I’m glad I could write this for you all. I’m sending thoughts and prayers to the people of China as well as other areas that are heavily affected from Covid-19. Please stay safe in this time by washing your hands, not touching your face, and staying inside as much as you can! If we want to spend summer outside, we need to stop the spread of the virus now!

#hyun ryu #jaehee kang #v mysme #zen mysme #mysme 707 #jihyun kim #jumin han #mysme jumin #saeran choi #mysme saeran #saeyoung choi #yoosung mysme #mystic messenger #mysme hc

[athingthatwantsvirginia]

hear my stolen lullabies

chapter five of the peter losing wendy series

*inspired by Taylor Swift’s Folklore*

Pairing: JJ Maybank x Original Character (Liz Walker)

Warnings: mentions of parent death and suicide, drug use, emotional/verbal abuse, yelling, PLEASE proceed with caution, smoking

Word Count: 5.6K

Summary: Twice, Liz finds solace at the Chateau during a difficult time.

March 13, 2019

Fiddling with her earring, Liz stared down at her feet as her mother rambled on. Her mother wasn’t exactly screaming, but she was definitely yelling. About how Liz needed to help out more around the house, about how she shouldn’t abandon her mother like her sisters had, about how there was nothing nice left about life. To say it was less than uplifting was an understatement. Liz was beginning to taste blood as she gnawed on her lower lip. After a couple years dealing with her mother’s rage, or her teary outbursts, she had gotten used to tuning it out. Or, at least, trying to. Sometimes, though, it was too loud, too painful, too overwhelming.

“You’re always so fucking mean to me, Elizabeth!” Ruth Walker exclaimed, hands at her sides in exaggeration. “Why can’t you just comfort me? That’s what I need!”

“Comfort you, mom?!” Liz yelled back, finally looking up and tilting her head at her mother. “Jesus, I’ve been comforting you everyday since dad died! Every single fucking day!”

“Excuse me?” Ruth asked, raising her eyebrows. “I’m the mother, and you’re the child! You don’t swear at me!”

Scoffing slightly, Liz shook her head. With her mother staring back at her, brown eyes furious and dark, brows furrowed, Liz couldn’t stomach her anger. As much as she tried to stamp it down, she usually ended with her own tirade creeping up her throat. And the worst part was, she was always wondering if she would one day end up screaming at her own daughter. Full of hypocrisy and bitterness, her life lived entirely different than she wanted. Ruth Walker wasn’t to blame for the way things had turned out, and that Liz scared more than she cared to admit. Her gut churned with anxiety and adrenaline, and she continued despite her better judgement.

“If I’m the child, Mom, why am I the one sleeping in your bed to help you with your nightmares? Why am I the one picking up the milk and the eggs and the bread? And spending every minute of every damn day worrying about you ending up exactly like Dad?” she wagered, pulling out the big guns.

As soon as the words left her mouth, she knew there was no use. They fought about the same things a thousand times over, and neither of them ever changed a bit. But at least letting off some steam might help in the short-term. Liz’s voice was getting louder, and her face redder, as she stood across from her mother in the dingy kitchen. All Liz had wanted was to get a snack to celebrate finishing her essay. Instead, it was an ambush over the leftovers.

“I lost my husband! My life is...my future is ruined!” Ruth screamed, crying through her words.

She knew how insensitive it was, but Liz rolled her eyes. She couldn’t help herself. “Jesus, I know! You think I don’t know that? Your life isn’t ruined, Mom! You’re not the one who died!”

“Sometimes it feels like it,” her mother said, still angry but beginning to deflate. Her energy was waning.

Liz scoffed, feeling completely impatient. Each time they reached this point in the conversation, when her mother would begin to wallow and struggle through her words, Liz would have to sigh, and apologize, and suggest her mother finally go to therapy. The island’s pharmacist, who had once been a therapist, had offered to help the family in the wake of Liz’s father’s suicide. Out of all five Walker women, only Liz had taken him up on the offer. Though she’d only been able to handle about one session a month, Liz was still going. And she knew it helped. But her mother refused to help herself.

“Yeah, well, sometimes it seems like it, too,” Liz muttered, so utterly frustrated she found her filter (which was not particularly strong to begin with) to be totally gone.

Her mother swallowed thickly, but didn’t say a word in response. She only gaped.

Feeling her stomach flip once again, whether due to general anxiety or disgust with herself she didn’t know, Liz turned around and looked out the kitchen window. Bracing herself with her palms on the sink, she looked at the ring stand on the windowsill. On it, her mother’s diamond engagement ring. She had to avert her eyes from it. Before, the ring had been precious, always on her mother’s finger. But Ruth had taken it off after hearing of her husband’s death, and it had sat on the windowsill ever since. Ruth valued it now about as much as a piece of gravel. Liz uttered a harsh, humorless chuckle.

“What an asshole. It wouldn’t be like this if he was still here,” Liz said. “I hate him.”

Ruth’s jaw clenched as Liz turned back to her. “Don’t talk about your father like that!”

“Stop defending him! He fucking lied to us! He was supposed to be there for us...a-and take c-care of us!” Liz argued. “And then he just left! Real fathers don’t do that! At least not the ones who loved their kids!”

“Fuck you!” her mother screamed in response.

Liz recoiled, grey eyes darkening to storms. She gave a thin smile, devoid of joy, and then began to push past her mother. “Yeah, well, fuck you, too.”

She grabbed her bag and tugged on her shoes, then rushed out the front door in the direction of her bike. Ruth stood motionless in the kitchen, watching through the screen door as her daughter rode away. The evening was clouded over and gloomy, the air just beginning to warm with spring. But an involuntary tremble rolled through Ruth’s body as though it were winter. And, when her daughter was gone, she let out a sob. Then, she collapsed in on herself and began to weep.

.   .   .

A violent shiver made goosebumps rise on Liz’s skin as she finally made it to the Chateau, but her cheeks were flushed hot with adrenaline. The daylight was nearly gone, the sky a cold purple-pink, as she leaned her bike up against the tree out front. The air was filled with spring freshness, but it was chilly. The gray cardigan she wore was proving to be a lifesaver. Crossing her arms over her chest, she stomped up and onto the front porch. She could smell the familiar scent of burnt toast (a telltale sign JJ had tried to cook something, which never ended well) as she approached. And she stopped in her tracks when she saw JJ in the hammock, scrolling absently through his phone. He was freshly showered, dressed in sweats and a t-shirt, hair damp. He looked up when her footsteps halted, eyebrows raised and expectant.

“Hey, red. What’s going on?” he asked, not quite concerned, but certainly not indifferent either.

It was Thursday night, and everyone was busy. Sarah and John B were out getting dinner somewhere on the Figure Eight. Pope was working on scholarship applications. Kie was doing a shift at The Wreck. JJ himself had only gotten off of work an hour earlier, sore from an afternoon spent mowing Kook lawns. Liz had texted in their group chat saying she had a big paper to write, which would probably take her until the sun rose the next morning.

Liz blew out a long breath, feeling the tense energy begin to leave her system. She didn’t feel like crying, though. Not exactly. Instead, she felt used up. Trying her hardest wasn’t working. Wringing her hands together, she felt how dry her skin was. She’d been washing her hands too much, using scalding water, despite the harshness of the early spring cold. The breeze was still parched and unyielding. But she couldn’t seem to stop herself. The habits came and went, ones she felt like needed to be done or else the world would end. They had existed before her father’s death, and she had always been what her mother called ‘a nervous little girl,’ but things had definitely gotten worse in the past couple of years.

“I just…” she began tiredly. Pausing, she sighed and took a seat on the couch, facing him. “I got in a f-fight with my mom.”

“Oh,” he said plainly, nodding. And she could tell he understood. He’d spent probably countless hours listening to her vent about her family’s issues. Just as she had spent hours hearing about JJ’s father. They had developed a pretty symbiotic system. “What was it about?”

She ran a hand over her face, narrowly avoiding her eyes, the makeup from the school day she had yet to wash off. Then, she shrugged. “I don’t know. The same shit, I guess. I told her...it seemed like she was dead now too.”

JJ hummed, nodding as he furrowed his brows. He put his phone down on the floor next to the hammock, forgotten. He waited for her to continue.

“I mean...I guess I meant it. I know that...I know her worst fears came true. I know that. But fuck,” she said, her knee bobbing up and down. The fingers of one hand drummed against her thigh. “I’m just so sick of all this. This would all be so much easier if he had just like...gotten into a car accident or had a brain aneurysm or something.”

He noticed her fidgeting, and he didn’t know whether it was because she was still so keyed up from the fight or if she was just cold. “Probably,” he agreed quietly.

She barely cast him a glance before she continued. “I mean, what was the point in having the funeral, and saying goodbye and all that bullshit, if we were still gonna fight about him and think about him every damn day? It’s like...everything is different except for that one thing. He’s the dead one and he’s like...the only thing left.”

Shaking her head at herself, not even understanding her own words, she clenched her jaw. Looking out into the yard, she could vaguely see the chickens walking around behind the wire of the coop. The chipped red paint of her bike shone dully in the glow of the sunset. Above the bike, the tire swing Big John had put up years earlier still swung, weathered with age. Liz wondered if John B ever felt like she did. Home was still home, but it would also never be home again. Her house felt more like a mausoleum to her than anything else. The life she had lived before was never coming back.

“She kick you out again?” JJ asked.

“Not really,” Liz said. “But I probably shouldn’t go back tonight. I said ‘fuck you’ to her. Like, literally.”

JJ raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“I know,” she said, reading his expression. “But only because she said it to me first. I don’t think I’m ready for round two yet. I’ll take the pullout or something.”

“You want something to take the edge off?” JJ asked, taking his weed pen from his breast pocket and holding it out to her.

She waved her hand dismissively and shook her head again. “No thanks. I just...Jesus I hate this.”

Huffing out a frustrated breath, she got up and slipped through the screen door, into the Chateau. JJ wasn’t surprised a minute later when she reemerged with a battered acoustic guitar in her hands. It had been her father’s in his teen years, and she had been playing since before JJ even met her, when the instrument’s body dwarfed her own and her child’s hands could hardly fit around the neck. She didn’t practice everyday or anything, but could still play songs around the campfire or when the restless energy invaded her body and she needed an outlet for it. Without another word, she began softly strumming out a folk song JJ could almost recognize, but couldn’t remember the name of.

“How was your day?” she asked after a moment, eyes not even on the guitar as she played. It had become a distraction, rather than a passion, since her father had died. Playing it would always be linked with him in her mind. Sometimes, it made her angry that he had ruined yet another thing from the grave. But sometimes, she could tolerate the memories enough to enjoy it again.

“You mean since you saw me like four hours ago?” JJ asked, smirking lightly. Most days, John B drove them both home in the Twinkie, along with Pope.

She nodded, smiling just a little. “Yeah. I’m sure it’s been really exciting.”

“Oh, yeah,” JJ said emphatically. “Honestly, it was a pretty life-changing afternoon.”

“Enlighten me,” Liz said, tilting her head at him.

“Okay, let’s see. I went to the Eight to mow the Westerfields’ lawn. But their kid wouldn’t quit trying to help, so I had to make the lawn mower noises while he used his toy one, and he tired out eventually. Added like two extra hours,” JJ said.

Smiling fondly, Liz nodded for him to continue. A light breeze passed by, blowing her bangs away from her face.

“He’s pretty cute, though. And his mom let me in the house to wash up this time. I got this sick utility tool from the garage when she wasn’t looking,” he said, grin growing with excitement. From the same pocket which housed his pen, he produced a shiny red utility tool, complete with a knife, a screwdriver, and a bottle opener.

She laughed. “What the fuck do you need that for, Maybank?”

“Remember on New Year’s when we couldn’t find the corkscrew so you had to open that wine with a screw and a hammer?”

“One of my proudest moments.”

“Well, next time, we’ll have an extra,” JJ said, putting the tool back. “And I gotta say, I think we should add that house to our list.”

“Really? It’s the yellowish one with the hedges in the front, right?” Liz asked, still plucking at her guitar strings.

JJ nodded.

Since they were kids, they had been considering which houses to move into when they went full Kook. The ‘list’ had never been written down, instead existing as more of a living document in both their minds. There were a few properties on the Eight that were serious contenders, known by the families that lived in them: the Westerfields, the Kitteridges, even the Camerons. Liz was always coming back to the Petries’ place, with the cobblestone path and the tiny pond in the backyard. JJ was partial to the old McKinnon place, with the pristine lawn and the well-kempt dock out back.

“The inside is kickass,” JJ continued. “Like, a TV in every room.”

“Okay, it’s officially added,” Liz said with finality and a little smile.

Before she could continue, she saw JJ yawn into his fist. She noticed the tired glaze in his blue eyes and felt a little bit guilty. She had come over after a long day and bombarded him with all her family shit. She wanted to reciprocate, ask about how things were with his dad and why he hadn’t been back home for at least a week, but she bit her tongue. After so many years knowing JJ, she had learned that he wasn’t going to talk about his family until he wanted to.

She began to play “Polly,” not really singing but humming lowly along with the tune. JJ listened, rocking the hammock slightly. They shared a love for Kurt Cobain, and he always liked it when she played Nirvana for him. Even if he was more partial to the screamo electric songs than their acoustic numbers. As Liz expected, JJ was struggling to keep his eyes open by the time she finished.

“You falling asleep, sunshine?” she asked softly, putting her guitar aside. She would have to make sure she placed it back in the corner of the Chateau’s living room when they went to turn in for the night.

“No,” he said, clearing his throat and blinking harshly a couple times. “Are you kidding? It’s only like eight.”

She shrugged. “You can rest if you want to, JJ. It’s just me.”

“You cold?” he asked, eyes lingering on her hands. They were still a bit shaky, even after she played guitar. Usually, that was enough to make the angry trembling subside.

“Don’t change the subject.”

“Answer the question.”

With a stubborn sigh, she relented. “I mean, a little bit.”

He rolled his eyes. She was always trying to put on a brave face, even over something as small as being cold. Even in front of him. “Yeah, a ‘little bit.’ Okay. C’mon, tough girl, you can steal some of my body heat.”

She snorted a laugh as he opened his arms and gestured for her to come lay down with him. “Okay.”

Her cheeks warmed marginally, but he didn’t mention it if he noticed she was blushing. They were touchy with each other. All the Pogues were. But she and JJ had always been a bit more. Lately, it was getting under her skin, in a good way or a bad way she didn’t know. Each time she felt herself crushing, she reminded herself of the perfect, toned Tourons JJ always brought home after a Kegger. She reminded herself that they had known each other forever, and she shouldn’t ruin anything over a silly, fleeting feeling. Recently, though, there hadn’t been as many girls taken home. And there had been lingering looks and moments between the two of them. But Liz figured she was only imagining it. Otherwise, what was it? The whole thing was too confusing to manage.

But she was cold and he was tired. She didn’t feel up to navigating her thoughts on the subject, so she pushed them out of her mind. And one of the comfiest quilts ever to exist was draped over the back of the couch, too tempting to resist. She grabbed it and then kicked off her shoes before she went over to the hammock. She plopped down next to him, taking a moment to cover the two of them with the blanket and settle in. He winced slightly as her elbow grazed his ribcage.

“Sorry, sunshine. Are you okay?” she asked, instantly concerned, noticing as he hissed in quiet pain.

“Oh, yeah, red,” he said, nodding. “Just got a little too sloppy at the Boneyard last weekend. I fell down on the damn dock. Totally knocked the wind out of me.”

“Do you want me to move? You need to tell me if I’m hurting you,” she continued, a hand placed softly on his chest.

“You’re not,” he replied. “I promise.”

He wrapped his arms around her and brought her head to his shoulder. It seemed to be enough to reassure her, and she let the subject drop. Or maybe she was saving it away for a discussion later on. One thing JJ had learned about Liz in knowing her: her memory was pretty damn close to photographic. She breathed out in content as she finally began to warm up, and her body relaxed.

“Did you finish your paper?” JJ asked, remembering what she should have been doing.

“Yeah. It didn’t take me as long as I thought it would. There’s way too much to say about Virginia Woolf,” Liz explained, letting her legs slip between his, tangling them together. It was the closest they had been in a long time, and she could smell his Old Spice. “It actually ended up being like a page too long. I had to go back and cut it down.”

“Good job, nerd,” he teased. English was the only class she regularly got As in.

“Shut up,” she warned, looking up at him through her lashes and smirking a bit. “Just go to sleep, dick.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said playfully. He pressed a kiss to the crown of her head.

When he pulled back, their eyes met again. Liz didn’t think much. She could only feel what she was doing as she was doing it, a bit surprised at herself. It was like her brain short circuited, flooded with butterflies, and she could only act on instinct.

“JJ?”

“Hm?”

Then, after a moment’s hesitation: “Can we kiss?”

His eyes softened. “‘Course we can, Lizzie.”

Before she knew it, they were both leaning in. They kissed gently, slow. JJ’s lips were surprisingly soft, and he kept a small smile on his face as they separated, dimples on his cheeks. Liz’s brow crinkled. Had that really just happened? When they were both totally sober and not dreaming? She uttered a small hum, nodding.

“Huh,” she said. She had never kissed anyone before, besides Kie. Never a real kiss.

JJ uttered a chuckle. “Yeah. Huh.”

“Are you alright?” Liz asked, a smile to match his own creeping onto her face.

“Mm-hm. Are you alright?” JJ’s voice lilted with nervous, giggly apprehension.

She nodded.

Then, some sort of simple understanding passed between them, smiles still ghosting over their lips. Liz put her head back down on JJ’s shoulder, and his grip tightened on her just a touch. They fell asleep.

.   .   .

October 27, 2019

Again, Liz was high as a kite by late afternoon. They sat smoking on the front porch of the Chateau after the midday dress burning, laughing at the mock sincerity of the ceremony. For once, Liz was happy and giggly in the presence of Sarah Cameron. JJ grinned widely at Liz opening up a bit. John B was always quick to accuse Liz of not liking Sarah, but JJ knew it was simply that she needed time to soften. Even with all her confidence, she was still shy. She didn’t like to show herself to people until she was positive she could trust them. JJ could definitely understand that. Leaning back against the couch, he threw his arm over the backrest. Liz, sitting beside him because she knew he would hog the bowl otherwise, tensed slightly. Looking around self-consciously, she didn’t think she saw anyone reacting to her flinch. Hopefully, they hadn’t noticed. The instinct to pull away from JJ was knee jerk. With a harsh swallow, she clenched her jaw and sat back slightly, trying to lean into it.

“Yo, did you guys hear that new Billie Eilish single?” JJ asked.

“Oh, I fucking loved it,” Liz said emphatically.

John B snickered. “Well, damn, I never would have guessed.”

She flipped him off, rolling her eyes. “You’re a loser.”

“Ditto, man,” John B replied, a smug smirk on his face.

Liz scoffed through a breathy chuckle. Weed made John B a bit of a condescending asshole, though sometimes in a charming way. Each time it was a toss-up. The day was slightly warmer than the one before, but she suspected it would likely be the last day the temperature was above fifty degrees. The thought of the season ahead made her grimace slightly. It was bad to begin the winter with a death. It was very bad. And, even amidst her group of friends enjoying each others’ company, she couldn’t help but feel far away from them. Distant. Alone. Maybe it was just the after-effects of her grandmother’s funeral the day before. She didn’t know.

She took the bowl back from JJ and inhaled a long breath. She coughed slightly as she let it out, listening to the others talk about something or other, maybe what Kyle McCormick had said to the calculus teacher the day before. She stared out into the front yard. When she was high, all her senses were amplified. The colors seemed brighter somehow. They seemed to move on their own, alive. The only thing close to the sensation that Liz could think of was reading Virginia Woolf. And even then, it was just the character who was experiencing it. Being mesmerized, really mesmerized, wasn’t an everyday thing. It felt like falling in love. She hadn’t felt it much since she and JJ broke up.

She passed the bowl, filled with grayish ashes, back to JJ. They reminded her of her father’s ashes. They’d spread them in the ocean, out on a rental boat. She’d held them in her hands, felt the smooth, sooty fragments of teeth. The thought made her shut her eyes for a second. JJ furrowed his brows, watching her as he took his own drag, trying to get the dregs of smoke from the bowl.

“You okay, Lizzie?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she said, rubbing at her eyes with the heels of her hands. Her cheeks were rosy from the autumn chill. “I just have a headache.”

JJ frowned. He felt her forehead, then put the back of one hand to her cheek. He was relieved to feel the redness was from the chilly wind, not from fever. Every time she got sick, it was because she had been running herself ragged, not sleeping.  “Hm. You’re probably still tired from yesterday. You wanna go lay down?”

Clearing her throat, ridding it from the stray smoky feeling, she nodded. “Sure. I’ll take the pullout.”

“Just take JJ’s bed again,” John B said lightly, catching snippets of the conversation.

“Is that alright?” she asked, tilting her head at JJ.

“Yeah. It’s the middle of the afternoon. I won’t be needing it for like eight more hours at least,” JJ answered, trying to pass the bowl to Pope.

Pope waved a hand at the drug paraphernalia. “Maybe you wouldn’t be so tired if you hadn’t smoked, Liz.”

Liz rolled her eyes as she got up from the couch. “Whatever, Doctor Spock.”

“You’re clouding your mental capacity,” Pope continued self-righteously. It didn’t annoy her as much as it once had, since she knew it came from a place of worry. After so long, she was able to shrug it off rather well.

“Good,” Liz retorted, more sincerely than Pope expected.

He shifted nervously, then turned to ask Kie something.

.   .   .

Slats of sunlight shone on the bed through the gaps in the blinds, making the room feel impossibly cozy. Since Liz had slept in there the night before, she had made the bed. It wasn’t really a cleanliness issue. She could have a perfectly neat bed and then not cast a second glance at the piles of books and clothes, and papers in the case of her desk. It was more that if she didn’t make her bed everyday, it made her want to wash her hands more, with hotter water. It made her want to pick off her nail polish and gnaw on her bottom lip. But she found herself feeling totally content as she laid on the bed, atop the fuzzy throw and the smooth comforter, piles stacked properly behind her. She rested her head on her crossed arms, the sleeve of her worn cardigan soft against her cheek. Her sock feet were raised in the air, one calf crossed over the other. She thought about the morning, when she had woken up with JJ’s arm draped over her. It had been the first time she had anxiously made the bed in JJ’s room in a long time. It had been so familiar that it broke her heart a bit. It broke her heart more when JJ had excitedly begun preparing for the dress burning almost immediately after waking up.

Over breakfast, he had enthusiastically gone over everyone’s duties to put together the “funeral for Lizzie’s funeral dress.” She smiled at him gratefully, but her heart wasn’t in it. She couldn’t reconcile the JJ who took care of her after tragedy with the one she had encountered on the last night in August. She thought about the feel of his hand on her waist, dancing with her in the Stoner’s Grove at a party, the warmth of his skin seeping through the thin fabric of her dress. They hadn't kissed, so they could explain it away if anyone asked. That had been before the invisible change had taken place. And she could feel it again where his hand had rested earlier in the day, when they had stood around a bonfire in the backyard, while the remains of her dress smoked in the air and then floated away. She had stared into the orangey flames, so strangely pure against the pristine blue of the October sky, until her eyes were hot and dry. JJ had placed an affectionate hand on her waist for only a moment, giving her hip a comforting squeeze. And she simply didn’t know what to do with it.

But she decided to clear the thoughts of him from her head, running her fingers delicately over the soft throw blanket. Touch, she thought to herself. Touch was her favorite of the senses when she was high. Her feet were up near the head of the bed, her head at the bottom. She had often laid in the same position, feet up in the air, as a little girl. She and John B had made a habit of going out to the edge of the dock and looking down at their reflections in the water, sometimes with their heads leaning completely over the green murkiness below. It was the kind of childhood foolishness you could only see the error in with hindsight. She let herself get lost in the music which played from the bluetooth speaker on the desk. She had turned it down to a medium volume, hoping she could get one of her mellower playlists to lull her to sleep. But the sunshine was too beautiful to miss. She let it warm her back as she laid there, listening to the sound of The 1975’s “Be My Mistake.” Sometimes, it was too sad for her to stomach. When high, though, she could stand it enough to listen. She barely even welled up this time.

The screen door slammed shut, and she could hear the rest of the Pogues reenter the house, likely to finish up whatever homework or enjoy the remnants of the Sunday afternoon. The sound of JJ’s boots approached, and Liz had to prepare herself for a moment before he came in. She didn’t know what instinct she would follow: the softening of her heart or the guarding of her gaze.

He opened the door with a warm creak, smirking when he saw she was still awake, from the way her feet swung side-to-side gently. “Hey.”

“Hi,” she replied huskily.

He shut the door behind him and bent over to unlace his boots. He tugged them off and discarded them in the corner absently before he came to sit down next to her on the bed.

“I was just coming to get my earth science homework, but I guess you don’t need quiet like I thought.”

She hummed in acknowledgement, lost in the song.

“You still wanna go to sleep?” he asked.

She may have had a pretty high tolerance, but she had smoked more of the good shit, and it was likely heightened in effect when she was so sleep-deprived. He was surely the more sober one of the two. The gut instinct to hold her hair back, rub circles on her skin, guide her sweetly through her intoxication, overtook him as it had so many times in the past. But he wasn’t her boyfriend, as she had pointed out one morning after he had fought a Touron. And it wasn’t his job to take care of her, no matter how much he wanted it to be.

“No,” she said softly. Her words came out in a pensive whisper. “I’m just having a nice time listening to the music.”

He snorted a laugh. “You’re so adorable.”

“You can’t say shit like that to me, JJ,” she said immediately, though still in that same gentle tone. Raising her head a bit, she met his slightly glassy, reddish gaze with her own to match.

He shut his mouth and averted his eyes, nodding. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to-”

“I know,” she said. “You just can’t.”

“Yeah,” he agreed.

Then after a moment, she asked: “Do you still wanna hang out?”

He smiled. “Yeah. ‘Course.”

“Alright,” she said, putting her head back down.

JJ got more comfortable, back resting against the wall behind the bed, getting ready to listen to her playlist. Liz’s playlists were, in fact, pretty infamous amongst their group of friends. When she couldn’t afford presents for birthdays or holidays, she made them playlists.

“So, since you’re in earth science, tell me again why they declassified Pluto as a planet?” she asked. “I mean, I know it doesn’t have emotions or anything, but imagine being a planet and having your planet status taken away from you. I feel bad for it, y’know?”

JJ laughed.

#outer banks #jj maybank #jj maybank x oc #jj maybank oc fanfiction #outer banks x oc #outer banks oc fanfiction #outer banks au #outer banks au fanfiction #john b routledge #kiara carrera #pope heyward #sarah cameron

[teeztheflag]

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P e a r l s   &   T e a r s

⋆ pairing: siren!ateez x pirate!reader (poly!ateez)

⋆ genre: siren au, pirate au, yandere au, suggestive

⋆ warnings: yandere content, obsessiveness/possessiveness, alcohol, strong language, storm, blood, ship accident, death, mentions of impregnation, captivity, mentions of harassment, mind manipulation, betrayal

⋆ words: 5,600

a/n: they’re not really brothers; sirens can walk on land in this story

„Manipulation is a beautiful thing, especially when the one who is manipulated doesn’t realize it anymore.“

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„Seisinoe is again missing... where’s our brother?“

„I’ve seen him going down to the mermaids lagoon. He just can’t get enough.“ Molpe giggles and pours himself another glass of wine.

„I will get him.“

„Great. Than we can finally discuss the urging process of our dying blood line!“ Haglaophonos grumbles out annoyed and sits down on one of the thrones at the head of the circle

He watches the others playing around and practicing their sword combat while waiting for Simperopa to return with their brother. Lately he thinks he’s the only one who takes the topic to heart and especially Seisinoe is disappointing him these last days with his ignorance. Usually he’s the most decent one out of them and the one urging the others to think straight...

Warthenope observes how the night probably brings out some of the most enormous anger of poseidon this year. Fortunately the thick walls of their huge estate is keeping away the wind which is howling against the closed windows while the young siren studied the power of the waves that are crashing against the coast.

Poor bastards that are trying to sail through this storm right now...Yeukosia joins him at the balcony and hands him another glass of wine which he accepts.

„Whoever‘s outside tonight is surely going to die.“

„Why’s he so angry?“

Yeukosia frowns a little bit and eyes the surface of the sea with high interest.

„Don’t assume he’s angry everytime a storm rages. I can’t remember to anger him with anything lately, well, I can only talk for myself of course.“

Warthenope turns around and takes a huge sip from the liquid.

„If I think about it, you’re right. This one seems to be different.“

One thing was sure, the storm was enormous. Whereas every decent person is locked inside their homes at land right now you are desperately clinging on the mainmast of the ship you called your home since the last five years.

With your last strength your try to save anyone of your crew who were lucky to not be thrown into the wilding sea by now. You don’t know where your captain is and practically see nothing while crying and screaming for the others that are poorfully dying right in front of your eyes.

The ship is thrown from side to side and you can hear the wood crackling everytime another wave comes crashing down on the surface or against it. Of course it wasn’t the first storm you encounter but this one seemed to be sent by Poseidon himself. Suddenly a lightning meets the top of the main mast and you see your look-out falling down painfully slamming into the ground in front of you.

You curse under your breath and cough because of the huge amount of water that entered your system by now. You shriek back when you feel the mainmast shake from side to side and like in a time loop it crashes down into the water.

You’re trying to save yourself on all fours to the other side of the ship when it starts to break into two halves. The last thing you see is another mast coming down and after that only black dots forming in front of your eyes...

It’s funny that you always believed it only happens in fairy tales that some poor soul could survive a huge storm and regain their consciousness back at the beach of an isolated island. But here you are, slowly opening your eyes and feeling the urge to cough out the water that still lingers in your lungs.

Where the heck am I?

Of course it took some time to gain back your senses and to slowly get into a sitting position. Your clothes are ruined and your skin is dirty but you not seem to be hurt anywhere except the big wound on your head from the mast. You groan out when you pat your head and see the blood on your fingers.

Rather fast you search for a hiding spot when you hear some voices behind the rocks but your legs are still too tired to move your body even only the slightest. Much to your dismay the voices become louder and you see a small convoy of guards nearing your form. After spotting you they of course increase their speed and stop you from crawling away from them.

„What do we have here? A stranded?“

The others of the group only laugh at how the man roughly jerks you up by your arm and he furrows his brows at your worn out state.

„You have to be extremely lucky to survive a storm like that...“

„Sir, Poseidon himself unleashed the sea yesterday. Seeing a girl like her surviving it and stranding here is a miracle. We should take here to the masters...“

„That’s a great idea... You, girl, maybe you can bring luck to our lords and make them happy again. If you’re not able to, well, then I will have some fun with you!“ You flinch back and try to free yourself from the young man but without success...

After what seems like an eternity up the coast and through a town where everyone’s pretty busy they arrive with you in front of big gates. They open and the guards practically drag you to the entry of an enormous mansion and inside of it. Never before have you seen such luxury like in this moment. The place could have belonged to Zeus himself if it wasn’t for the fact that you were on earth and not high in the skies.

Before you realize it a man with beautiful shiny black hair and dark eyes stands in front of you eyeing you down with a curious look.

„Who’s this?“

„Oh my, master Seisinoe! This is a stranded we found at the beach today!“

The man tilts his head a little bit and rounds your form with careful steps while his arms are behind his back. He screams authority and this isn’t only about the guards who are still in a bowing position since he came into the scene. No, it’s something about his gaze and how he moves that intimidates but fascinates you in the same time.

You flinch a little bit when he leans down behind you and starts to whisper into your ear after he dismissed the guards.

„You don’t know where you are am I right? You’re clearly from another part of this boring world... Pirates normally don’t come along these waters so care to explain what you and the others were looking for here?“

It’s intriguing how he could tell so much with only the little information of your appearance. He isn’t wrong, you are indeed looking for something.

„Answer me little bird...“ You can feel his fingers sliding through your hair and a shiver runs down your spine.

„Brother! Leave her, we‘re going to the main hall I already told the others.“ Seisinoe rolls with his eyes and takes your wrist to guide you into the right direction.

„What a mood killer.“

Guess you can call yourself pretty lucky that you are still alive to this point although being stranded on a foreign island. Luckily you are not stupid enough to act too rushed and decide to wait and analyze you chances to escape.

Seisinoe stops in the middle of a big hall and sends you a gaze which means stay here or you will regret it. After that he takes his place on one of the eight thrones in front of you. Your eyes drift over everyone of them while you’re trying to think who they could be.

After everyone is seated a man in the middle coughs a little bit to get the attention of everyone. It seems like he tries to think about what to say and your brows furrow when you notice one of the men glaring at you with a mischievous smirk. Either he’s a sadist and happy about torturing you soon or - and that’s absolutely ridiculous - he’s flirting with you.

Looking down yourself you observe the last dirty clothes that protect your naked skin from the mens’ eyes and you gulp slowly but relax a little bit when they avert their gaze as if they notic your discomfort.

„What’s your name girl?“

„Y/N.“

„And where are you from?“

„You wouldn’t recognize it anyway...“

„Is that so? Well, I have to apologize in the name of our guards for being so rough with you also you have to be tired and hungry regarding the fact you cannot even stand properly... We will continue this talk when you are taken care of.“

With a clap of his hands some maids appear and guide you away from them to an equally rich decorated room. After a few minutes they return with a lot of food and a physician looks over your wound. Everyone of them is nothing but nice and respectful towards you and it seems genuine so you thank them afterwards.

With a full stomach and after a long and needed bath you fall into the bed and drift into the dreamland.

Haglaophonos and Yeukosia continued to ask you the next morning and explained where you and who they are. Never in your life would you have thought that you would meet some royal sirens. Sirens alone were very rare and a mystery themselves but getting to know them and their own island where they were technically the kings impressed you.

Although they knew that you were a pirate they told you to be a peaceful folk and would help you to find your crew or what still remained of them. Under the condition that you won’t tell anybody about their location and they wouldn’t secretly inform the other states about you.

As the people of the island and the sirens themselves didn’t really needed boats or ships because they had everything they needed it had to take some time to provide you with a ship and a crew that would take you back to some pirate site.

The people of the island were warm-hearted and laid-back and always had a helping hand. The weather usually was sunny and the breeze of the sea refreshed your state and mind. The whole place felt like you were on vacation. Also you learnt to know that some of the sirens really loved to spoil you with everything they could think about. You room was soon decorated with the most beautiful flowers, jewelry and clothes.

Sometimes you felt overwhelmed with all the recognition and attention they gave you so you always sticked with the most inconspicuous pieces out of their presents to not come off rude by using nothing they gifted you.

The big halls of their estate sometimes intimidated you and as they forbid you from helping with the ship building you busied yourself with exploring the island and helping some of the people. You enjoyed teaching the children something of your home language or helping the elderly with their daily tasks.

Soon the conversations about the mysterious pretty lady in the mansion of their rulers increased and it didn’t left unnoticed by the sirens. Of course, sometimes the thought crossed your mind... Why haven’t they just killed you? Why feed you, give you a bed and swamp you with the most expensive things? What was so special about you to let you live and build a whole ship for you?

As time flew by you got closer to some of the boys. Especially Yhelxiope and Warthenope became some of the best companions on the sometimes boring island days. They were funny and like the brothers that you always wanted in your childhood.

Haglaophonos and Yeukosia were usually busy with the administration of their state. Whereas Yeukosia was well-read and a little bit mysterious Haglaophonos often wore a serious face. Strangely he had a quite cute site, too, and you couldn’t deny the fact that it brought butterflies to your stomach whenever he smiled at you.

Usually Jigeia and Molpe were hard to find and to hang out with. At the dinners they often rushed to take a seat next to you and talked with you a lot but it really left you curious what they were after to in a day.

The last ones included Simperopa and Seisinoe. Simperopa usually hang out at the training field and you enjoyed watching him practicing his combat skills. Sometimes you just pretended to train out a little bit yourself but secretly you liked to see him. He was a hot young man and he looked good while concentrating so you didn’t feel bad about it because you obviously weren’t the only one who enjoyed his training.

Seisinoe on the other hand was the only one who acted hostile towards you, or, maybe more creepy? You didn’t know what it was but you were still fascinated by the authority he radiated off and often only his presence could make you weak in your knees. Seisinoe of course knew what effect he had and you quickly learnt that he spend a lot of his time with girls and mermaids. They were some interesting  creatures with their beautiful eyes and tails. Not once were you able to see the boys in their natural state with a tail and the one time you asked Haglaophonos he just giggled a little bit and called you a curious little doll.

It took about maybe three to four weeks when you carefully asked Yeukosia if he knew when the ship would be ready. Back then his orbs widened and his eyes turned into a dangerous yellow color. His features hardened and he gave you a lecture about how you should be thankful and not pressurize their hard working people to do more than they are able to. Tears formed and you quickly apologied to him feeling very ashamed. Yeukosia slowly went back to his usual composed stature and took you into his embrace. He caressed your hair and told you it was ok and he wouldn’t tell the others so they wouldn’t be hurt because of your thoughtless  words. You didn’t even understand why it would be inappropriate to ask but something about his outburst affected your own judgment of the situation.

After a while you decided to stop asking about the ship and your plan to get back to your life always fearing to anger the nice sirens in any way and just waited patiently for the day to come.

„Y/N? Could you please come to the garden in half an hour?“

„Ehm, yes of course!“ 

Jigeia nears your form in front of the mirror and lays his chin on your shoulder. 

„You are so beautiful...“

„I am not. Stop talking nonsense!“ You blush a little bit at his statement and avert your eyes when he embraces you from behind and puts a light kiss on your naked shoulder. By now you are totally used to the close skinship they liked to share with you but of course for it doesn’t mean anything more.

„Be on time.“ Something dark flashes in his eyes and by now you know that the yellow color usually means they’re liking what they see or they are angry.

When you enter the garden wearing a light and flowy pinkish dress you already hear Warthenope‘s loud laugh and a smile adorns your face when you come into view in front of them. „You are all here? Something‘s special today?“

They smile at you cheekily and Haglaophonos opens his palm for you to come to him and take his hand. „Y/N, today is indeed a special day. Everything’s ready for you.“

This can only mean one thing... Your waiting is paying off and you can finally leave the island and maybe find someone of your crew! „You, you mean the ship is ready? Oh my god!“

As Simperopa‘s smile only vanishs out of his face Seisinoe‘s grows. Some of the others are literally disgusted of the thought you would leave them but of course they’re trying to hide it in front of you.

„My little Y/N, no no. You already know it takes some time to build a ship that can take you over the ocean.“ Haglaophonos shakes his head and coos at you jumping a little bit out of excitement. You stop right away and disappointment sneaks into your features.

„What could it be then?“

„We have something different for you. Molpe was the last one to find an appropriate one so we are now finished with our gifts.“

„Gifts? But I already told you I don’t want anything anymore...“

„Believe me, it’s something really special.“ Before you can answer him the sirens stand up in a circle around you leaving you turning around to make eye contact with every single one of them wondering what they are planning to do. Suddenly Yeukosia nears you and pulls out what seems like a chain behind his back.

Your curious eyes follow his movements when he holds the chain directly in front of your eyes and you clearly dismiss how he watches you in a slightly lunatic manner. The chain is made out of pure gold and crested with the best small diamonds and refinements. What catches the most of your attention are the eight pearls that are set-in the piece. Everyone is beautiful and unique in color and shape.

„Are you accepting it?“ Yeukosia already moves to put it around your neck and closes it when Yhelxiope speaks up before anyone forgets to.

„Y/N, it’s not nice to ignore your masters.“ Jigeia adds in with a serious tone. They always address themselves as masters when they aren’t happy with your behavior.

„Yes, yes of course! I am accepting it. It’s so beautiful...“

The boys relax after the ritual is done and get closer to you to watch you wonder about every detail of the chain. „Everyone of us searched for their own pearl, the pearl they’re giving to their beloved ones.“

You stop in your tracks when the words leave Simperopa‘s mouth. „Is this a siren thing? Then why, why would you give them to me?“

„You still don’t see what we feel for you, Y/N?“ They look at you expectantly and wait for your answer.

„What exactly do you mean feel for me?“

Seisinoe rolls with his eyes annoyed and sighs. „It means we‘ve decided for you to be ours. You should be happy and thankful right now not asking dumb things.“

„What Seisinoe means is that we are in love with you. When a siren finds someone they want to spend their life with they gift them their most precious pearl. It’s like a promise we make to love them unconditionally and always stay by their site and protect them.“ Warthenope adds.

Molpe comes into your view and takes your hand into his ones. „It just happened that all of us fell in love with the same girl. Believe me, we are urged to find at least one appropriate woman for one of us to save our bloodline but everyone of us wants to marry out of love and not just have children with a person we don’t even know or love. Before you came to our island we were just about to pick one random girl because our residents want to see a heir to the throne. We knew Poseidon sent you to us with a good reason.“

You need a few seconds to register and understand his words but if you think back to the first day you awakened at the beach and what the guard told you it all made sense now. They thought because you stranded here after Poseidon’s storm you were someone special and now they want to impregnate you - and that sounds absolutely insane.

With a shaky breath and mixed feelings you take your hand back out of Molpes reach and collect your thoughts.

„To be honest, I feel really honored that you think of me to be a suitable party for your blood line. I understand your situation although it’s confusing that you think you’re all in love with me because we don’t even know each other that well. I am feeling very flattered right now but I can just say that I don’t feel the same for you guys. I like you and I think you’re attractive but in my situation I cannot think of a relationship let alone stay on this island.“

You take off the chain and hold it out for anyone of them to take it back why you put some space between you and the sirens.

„I hope you understand my position and that you finde someone else who can returns your affection.“

Luckily your gaze is focused on the ground so you don’t see the humiliation and anger some of them are feeling. Just before Seisinoe is able to get to you Yeukosia takes his wrist and speaks up.

„Y/N, we are not lying about being in love with you. It’s not rare for sirens to fall in love with the same person and share a poly relationship. Also you say you’re liking us, too. Why don’t you think about it a little bit first, hm?“

„Yeukosia, I don’t need to think about it and I am not shaming your way of living. I just can’t stay here with you. I have places to be.“

„Fine. It’s her decision guys I mean we cannot force her to stay with us. The ship will be ready soon so you can go your way. For now I think we should calm down a little bit.“

Haglaophonos motions for the others to leave seeing the situation soon escalating if he doesn’t break up the dangerous atmosphere. He takes the chain out of Y/N‘s tremulous hands and smiles at her mischievously.

„I didn’t want to anger you or the others, Haglaophonos.“

„My little doll, don’t worry. We just wouldn’t have thought you would turn us down...“

He closes the distance between the two of you and holds your gaze with his beautiful eyes. He literally eyes you down and studied every feature of your face while you feel you could collapse any second he’s making you so nervous.

„It’s a pity you don’t like us enough or don’t even want to give us a chance.“

By now you can feel his breath on your face and your lips are opening a little bit without your consent just like they’re waiting to be touched by Haglaophonos‘s smirking ones. You know what he’s doing and your reaction shows too much that you’re indeed attracted to them. But you just cannot give in so close your eyes and turn your face away from him your hands turning into fists and the nails gripping hard into your palms.

„Don’t be late for dinner.“ He just giggles and leaves you there.

After the tense dinner you’re now sitting in your room reading a book to distract yourself from the events earlier this day when a knock interrupts your peace.

„Yes?“ One of the maids you came to have a good relationship with enters your room and closes the door behind her.

„Miss, I have something really important to tell you.“

„I already told you to call me by my name Sophia.“ You smile at her and pat the place next to you.

„I know, Y/N... I am sorry.“

„You seem to be upset about anything - you can tell me everything you know that right?“

„Yes, I know. I am just so confused and scared.“

„Scared? Why? What happened? Did someone hurt you? Is Seisinoe harassing you again?“

„No, no! To be honest it’s about you, Y/N. Listen to me, you have to get out of here as soon as you can! You should take a boat and get off this island!“

„But why? And even if I wanted to there are no boats that could take me over the ocean - “

„There‘s a little boat at the west coast behind the big warehouse for the grain. The boat is small, yes, but it is able to take you to a little nearby island where my brother‘s working. He’s in contact with many merchants and sometimes even pirates cross his way. It’s your chance to get away from this place. Here’s the map.“

„But, if there are big ships coming to this nearby island why didn’t they brought me there?!“

„Y/N, they don’t want you to leave this island. They are not building a ship for you. They are lying since you’ve arrived here.“

„But, why would they do that? I don’t understand... They promised me they would help - “

„I’ve heard them earlier talking about everything, I am sorry Y/N. The masters are usually very nice so I don’t understand it either! I mean, I don’t think they want to hurt you or anything but they just talked about how you couldn’t leave the island under any circumstances and that they would do anything to keep you here. Then master Yhelxiope said he hopes you aren’t looking for the ship that doesn’t even exist and he laughed...“

It hurts. The ones you though of so big literally made fun of you behind your back all the time. There wasn’t a ship and they didn’t want to help you. All the time they were selfish bastards that just tried to keep you here and manipulate you. You would like to confront them right now and slap everyone of them in the face but their guards wouldn’t even leave you the chance to do either.

„The, the map. Is it really working?“ You take it out of Sophia‘s hands and study it while some tears leave your red eyes. Your hands shake a little bit because of the anger and you try to concentrate while the maid rubs your back.

„It is. You have to leave tonight my brother will know I sent you when you just say who you are. If they find out about you knowing anything they will definitely put you into prison or worse.“

„Alright. But what if they find out you told me?“

„Don’t worry, they won’t.“

Of course you would’ve had a good chance to escape if it wasn’t for the sudden high waves this night that threw you over the boat and into the dark and angry water.

It felt like tons of water entered your lungs and knowing it wasn’t any use to fight the natural power you just tried to get back to the surface with the last strength you got. It was like Poseidon again decided for your destiny and pushed you deeper and deeper into the depths of the blackness. The last thing you saw were large and beautiful tails that glittered in the light of the moon before your eyes finally closed.

You would be dead by now if it wasn’t for Simperopa who accidentally saw the maid leaving your chambers that evening. They could’ve stopped you sooner but as they knew there would be a storm after a long time tonight again they just waited knowing you wouldn’t get any far.

One week passed with you being in what seems like some sort of coma before you open your eyes again. You look around the familiar room and tense immediately when you see Seisinoe sitting across from your bed.

He smirks when he recognizes you have awakened and stands up to sit down on the bed. He pats your head and plays a little bit with your hair while humming softly to a melody.

„W - “

„Careful, your voice is still horse after the amount of water you swallowed.“

„S - s - so - phhh - “

„What do you think happens with traitors?“ A smile adorns his face and you feel sick to your stomach at his words. You’re tearing up the thought of the small and fragile girl. It wasn’t her fault she just wanted to help you...

„You should rest a little bit more. I am going to tell the others.“ Before he sits up he stops in his tracks and leans down again. „Y/N, if you ever try to escape again I will kill everyone on this goddamn island.“ You cry out at his cruel words and watch him leaving not being able to move any muscle.

After being forced to eat some soup by another maid everyone gathers in your room around your bed. You watch their faces, some of them are happy and relieved you’re good again, the others looking still angry like they wanted to break something and Seisinoe who’s just smiling at you knowingly.

What makes the blood in your vessels freeze is seeing Haglaophonos smirking and nearing your laying form with the chain in his hands. „My dear brothers, our Y/N is finally awake and in our arms again.“

The others watch how their leader puts on the chain around your neck again and how you try to turn away from him when he plants a long kiss on your lips.

„You are sick.“

„No, we love you - and you should begin to accept the fact that your staying here.“

„What’s with helping me? You promised!“

„But you were the one who tried to escape. You were trying to get away and tell the others about our location. You broke the agreement.“

„I - I didn’t! I just wanted to leave!“

„Why? We would’ve given you a ship and everything but you betrayed us and we cannot let you go now. You have to stay here and be with us. You just managed to imprison yourself this island.“ Yeukosia says in a monotone voice.

„I won’t say anything! You know that! Warthenope, Yhelxiope - please, you know I wouldn’t!“

The both sirens share gazes and Warthenope answers for the two. „Sorry, Y/N - but they’re right... it makes sense how Seisinoe explained it. Also I really love you and you accepted our pearls.“

Slowly you become insane with the situation and try to get out of the bed but Jigeia stops you before you an move any further and fall out of it. „Slow down. You will hurt yourself.“

„The only one who is hurting me are you guys!“

„Stop being irrational now.“

You begin to cry endlessly realizing you would have to stay here for the rest of your live not having the chance to fulfill the real promise you made.

„Little one, stop crying. Tell me, what were your plans as a sought-after pirate and girl with no home or money?“ Haglaophonos asks while he caresses your hair and cheeks.

„I - I just wanted to be free. I am not a pirate. I am a girl from a good house that just was robbed by pirates! I wanted to live freely and without having to fear for the law to catch me... I wanted to prove my innocence...“

„Mh, but you’re free if you stay with us. On this island you’re the lady everyone respects and loves. The law won’t get you here and no one dares to lay a finger on you if you’re next to our side.“

„What a beautiful dress and - oh my! those pearls! Are they heavy?

„Sometimes yes.“

You smile at the noble woman in front of you hoping she wouldn’t think about it too much. Your eyes search the scenario for one of the sirens and you sigh relieved when they’re not in sight right now.

You take your place on the wedding table and gulp down a large glass of wine. Everyone seems to be so happy and relieved they finally got a woman for their emperors and you can only think of your own misery. Maybe Yeukosia is right and you should change the perspective to the citizens and their well being...

Watching children dance with their fathers and the elderly enjoying themselves brings a smile to your face, too. Also the weather‘s again perfect this evening. You decide to get another glass of wine and go to the pavillon and watch the ocean.

„Very peaceful isn’t it?“

„Seems so.“

„You never fail to make me smile my love.“ Seisinoe takes you by your waist and pushes you against his body.

„I should’ve known you planned all of this in the beginning.“

„But you didn’t. At least no one died, right?“

„Don’t remember me of that bitch...“

„Those words out of my beautiful bride‘s mouth... sksksk.“ He places a chaste kiss on your lips and you roll your eyes at him after he winks at you.

„Manipulation is a beautiful thing, especially when the one who is manipulated doesn’t realize it anymore.“

„They aren’t dumb, master.“

„I didn’t say it but let’s just say that some of them needed a little push.“

„If it wasn’t for you I wouldn’t be here, right?“ Seisinoe snuggles his face into your neck and takes in your scent. After that he embraces you from behind and watches the ocean with you in his arms and giggles.

„Maybe, but I didn’t manipulate them into loving you.“

Behind the two of you voices can be heard and Seisinoe takes your hand to get back to the place where the event is held. There the rest of the eight sirens are standing and watching you with twinkling eyes as you enter with their brother.

„And now we can finally present our wife, the one we gifted our pearls and that we promised to love and protect forever.“

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#ateez writing #ateez yandere #ateez yandere au #ateez au #ateez fic #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #ateez poly #ateez poly au #teeztheflag #ateez pirate #ateez pirate au #ateez siren #ateez siren au #ateez possessive

[self-loving-vampire]

Ultima VII Part Two: Serpent Isle (1993)

Summary

Serpent Isle is a direct sequel to the Black Gate. The arrival of the Guardian has been prevented and his cult has been outlawed and disbanded, but his most loyal follower has escaped to a place called the Serpent Isle to enact their backup plan.

But the Serpent Isle is not just an island, it is another world that you find yourself in after sailing your ship between the Serpent Pillars (yes, you get isekai’d while already living in another world).

This strange land is populated by people who fled from your lord long ago, and it seems to be suffering from an apocalyptic event that you soon experience for yourself, as a magical storm teleports your companions away and replaces most of the potent items you arrived with with random junk.

So your goals are clear: Recover your items, find the Guardian’s followers, and try to prevent the world’s destruction.

In many ways, Serpent Isle can feel like a more linear and limited game than the Black Gate (for one, you can’t own and freely sail a ship), but there are actually many things that I think it actually does better.

I played it using Exult and the SI Fixes mod.

Freedom

While Serpent Isle is not fully linear, it is definitely not nearly as open as the Black Gate was.

Where the Black Gate lets you travel nearly anywhere in the world almost immediately, even enabling several forms of transportation for this purpose, Serpent Isle initially allows only one section of the island to be explored with the rest opening up as one progresses through the game.

To its credit, the way in which these areas are locked off are sometimes reasonable and do not feel arbitrary. For instance, Moonshade is an island and nearly every ship in the land have been wrecked by the same magical storms that affected your party at the start of the game, so reaching it is not as simple as just buying a boat and going there.

There are other cases, however, where the restrictions do feel nonsensical. Such as the way the Bull Tower pikemen demand obscene amounts of money for the captain’s release but will happily accept a single much less valuable gold bar instead (since acquiring those is tied to a plot point). Then there’s all the stuff with the Hound of Doskar...

On the positive side, you can deal with various parts of the game in whatever order you desire within these limitations. This includes resolving the central quests in each of the land’s three cities in your own preferred order.

However, the game is still lacking in alternate solutions for quests in general. There are some decisions to be made, but they are rather minor in the grand scheme of things.

Character Creation/Customization

This aspect of the games is just as barebones as the Black Gate. You can only select your name, gender, and portrait. Your starting stats are pre-set and there are no further decisions to be made there.

However, Serpent Isle does have a marginal benefit over the Black Gate in that how you spend your training points matters a lot more, since you can’t just automatically max out your stats by completing the expansion.

Even then, there is not much to the character creation here at all.

Story/Setting

I think this is one of the game’s stronger points. The Black Gate may have had a larger world with more total settlements, but Serpent Isle’s three cities of Monitor, Fawn, and Moonshade are each significantly larger than the average Black Gate town and, most importantly, this world feels more dynamic.

Due to the way many of the game’s quests and events work, Serpent Isle manages to feel more alive than its predecessor. I will not spoil the details, but you often feel like something is always happening and like new developments are organically finding you rather than you having to actively search for them.

As has become typical of the Ultima series, the setting this time around is also centered around virtues, but in this case it goes beyond the Eight Virtues you mastered in the last trilogy.

Serpent Isle’s three cities are inhabited by the descendants of people who fled the reign of Lord British and who resent his edict of the eight virtues. The knights of Monitor considered Valor to be the highest virtue, the sailors of Fawn wanted to elevate Beauty as a virtue, and the mages of Moonshade did not feel that their profession should be associated with the virtue of Honesty.

But in addition to all that, much of the game revolves around learning about and mastering the ancient Ophidian virtue system, which functions differently from what you are used to. 

The Ophidian virtues are divided into Order (Ethicality, Discipline, Logic) and Chaos (Tolerance, Enthusiasm, Emotion). The forces composing both sides must be in balance to achieve a new set of principles (Harmony arising from Ethicality + Tolerance, Dedication from Discipline + Enthusiasm, and Rationality from Logic + Emotion).

The incoming apocalypse you face in the game is the result of a cosmic imbalance in these forces. The ancient Ophidians polarized into Order and Chaos factions that warred each other, with Order winning the war and destroying the Chaos Serpent, which causes the universe to begin unravelling.

While this game does have an antagonist, resolving this imbalance remains the most significant part of the game in terms of story.

The game also has multiple big scripted scenes that did not quite exist in the Black Gate, and the world as a whole changes dramatically partway through as a result of a certain event.

Immersion

As previously mentioned, things like the quest design and more dynamic world can help make this game more immersive than Black Gate in some ways. I am reasonably certain that some of the NPC schedules are a bit more complex this time around as well.

There are also a few new things, such as a frozen wasteland up north that you need warm clothes to traverse without freezing.

Apart from that, all the features mentioned in the Black Gate are still present here, such as weather, day/night cycles, and more.

But really I think one of the most significant differences is actually just the fact that you are significantly less overpowered than in the Black Gate and have less allies. I feel like that changes the feel of the game a lot on its own in ways that have to be experienced to be fully understood.

Gameplay

Combat is, as in Black Gate, automatic and uninteresting, though it is slightly more difficult now overall.

The rest of the gameplay is largely the same as in the Black Gate as well, though dialogue has been slightly expanded with more complex trees.

Really the main difference comes down to the differences in the world and available items rather than any mechanical changes.

Some of the most significant items are a ring (obtained from the Silver Seed expansion) that provides infinite magical reagents and a magical goblet that provides endless nourishment. These things are not nearly as broken as what the Forge of Virtue provides in the Black Gate, but are still nice conveniences.

While this game has less towns than its predecessor, it does have larger and more interesting dungeons overall. The one issue with them is that some of the puzzles in them are not very interesting (often amounting to just placing items on pedestals and such).

This is also where I should talk about one of the game’s major flaws: It is the first one where the influence of Electronic Arts began to manifest. It is nothing too major at this point (just wait until we get to Ultima 8 and especially Ultima 9) but it does mean there are some questlines that were left unfinished due to EA rushing things.

It’s not just questlines either. The towns were supposed to be larger and with more content, the player was meant to eventually gain a ship they could freely sail like in the Black Gate, and a major plot element had to be changed. The Silver Seed expansion in particular feels incomplete and inconsequential in terms of story, and is largely centered around four dungeons to explore for unique loot (both the dungeons and the loot are reasonably good at least).

I also dislike just how many plot-critical items are in the game. I would like to use my backpack space for other things.

The game also offers a decent amount of locations to explore, including many optional curiosities unrelated to the main quest.

Aesthetics

While the engine and graphics are largely the same as in the Black Gate, there have been graphical upgrades, most notably in the form of significantly more detailed and lifelike portraits for NPCs.

But I would say that the biggest aesthetic changes here have more to do with the game’s design and atmosphere. 

Serpent Isle is a far more unfriendly place than Britannia, and you will be accosted by assassins and deceivers during your quest. It makes for a more grim adventure.

The whole game has a much darker tone than any in the series since Ultima 5, I think. The world is completely falling apart due to the imbalance, with storms obliterating Fawn’s fleet, goblins making significant gains in their war against Monitor, and plagues are starting to break out. You do get the sense as you explore the world that this is a land experiencing its final days.

And things only get worse from here too.

I also like how unique several of the locations are. The city of Monitor is not just a walled city, it is populated by knights who organize into three different commands that rule the city. Meanwhile the city of Fawn is completely unlike any other in the series, being built entirely over the sea.

It is good stuff, and I wish they had had the time to expand and develop these locations as they had originally planned.

Accessibility

Exactly as good in this regard as the Black Gate, I think. Even the increased difficulty (which is still not enough to make this a “hard” game by any means) does not really matter since at the start of the game you get a magical hourglass that can be used to resurrect any fallen party members and the local monks will take care of your own mortality as well.

If there’s frustrations to be had here, they may come more from some of the less intuitive puzzles than anything and plot points than anything. The core gameplay is still extremely simple.

While the game can theoretically be played on its own, I strongly recommend playing at least the Black Gate first to learn a little about the events that led to this whole expedition. The two games really are part of the same package.

Conclusion

Between the Black Gate and Serpent Isle, I always got the impression that the Black Gate was the more popular of the two. I can understand why, as Serpent Isle was a bit rushed and lacks the open exploration that has defined the previous games in the series.

Despite this, I remember loving it about as much as the Black Gate largely because of the atmosphere and how the game feels. It is a particularly easy recommendation for those who enjoyed the previous game, as the engine and mechanics remain largely the same.

I also recommend this game for anyone who may be interested in following the story or looking for an immersive experience, but who doesn’t want to bother too much with stuff like combat or numbers. Even just watching the NPCs go about their day can be fun in this game.

#vampire reviews rpgs #ultima 7 #serpent isle #long post

[firaknight]

Ok my brain wants to talk about Kracko today so I’m gonna!

Kracko is one of many. He’s a sentient cloud being that has the powers of a god. Weird that he’s such a pushover most of the time, right? Well, those aren’t the Kracko. There’s other Kracko out there!! If clouds clump together enough, there’s a chance one can form. Other planets even have one (See: Planet Towara boss fight)!! The original, real, genuine Kracko lives in Cloudy Park! He’s hidden at the top of a really dangerous mountain that’s known to have the most fucked up weather patterns of anywhere on Popstar. There’s a shrine up there he calls home and people go visit him a lot!

While the mountain is dangerous, there’s a path that’s usually very clear that people take. Kracko himself carved it during a fit of rage and it tends to be mostly free of the abnormal weather patterns. It leads directly up to the shrine and its traveled quite often! People leave little talismans on the trees as they pass. The talismans have inscriptions of hopes and wishes from the people who travel along the path. While Kracko can’t grant wishes, he can manipulate weather, so he does pay special attention to talismans relating to that.

It’s also customary to take newborns up to the shrine. Think of it like baptism. People take their newborn child along the path and up to Krackos shrine and ask for his blessing. That child will have his protection whilst in the boundaries of Cloudy Park and will hopefully be exempt from his fits of rage (more on that later). He’s usually very calm and courteous when brought a newborn, since they’re small and fragile and probably scare easily and he doesn’t want to frighten them. However, he wasn’t like this when Ado showed up.

Ado brought Adeleine with her when she fled her home planet, and, while Adeleine wasn’t a brand new baby, she was still little and deserved a chance at habit Krackos blessing, so she carried her up to the shrine. Now, keep in mind that, while Kracko has been alive for thousands of years, he’s never once met a human. Not a single one. This meant that he was more than freaked out at the sight of one entering his shrine. He wasn’t mad! Not at all! But a weird squishy being that’s tall and big and haS A BABY??????? Yeah that’s frightening. Once he realized that baby Adeleine just a little sweetie, he warmed up to her almost instantly. Literally picked the child up and out of Ado’s hands and just floated around to room like a joyous goofball with an excitedly squealing child on him. After that day, Kracko dedicated every second he could get (when he was pissed off) to making sure that Adeleine was happy.

At first, it was small things, like slowing down lightning so she wouldn’t be scared during a thunderstorm, but it quickly grew to “I’m going to give my entire life up for this kid if I have to.” She gets to be a bit older and decides to go run into the forest to play! Problem being that she’s an easy target for predatory creatures like Pacto, which are big enough to swallow her whole if one wanted to. She gets spotted by one and absolutely can’t outrun it. Ado is far enough away to not hear the commotion, but Kracko notices. He may be all the way up in his shrine, but he can just sense when someone’s in danger. Almost immediately, a thunderstorm rolls in and he uses this as a cover to scope the forest, spotting little Adeleine running from a group of Pacto. Without a second thought, he strikes them down with lighting (despite the fact that he could’ve hit her by mistake if he wasn’t careful), flies down between Adeleine and the Pacto (just in case the lighting didn’t do the trick), and then promptly picks up Adeleine and flies her back home. This tends to happen a lot when she’s little.

After the events of Crystal Shards, Adeleine stays on Ripple Star for a few years before returning home to work on art and be closer to friends. Kracko is overjoyed to have her back and adjusts wind patterns and weather to make sure her first few day back are lovely. He now also has a habit of straight up redirecting weather when she’s painting. It’s about to rain? Cool lemme poke a fat hole in the clouds so this kid doesn’t get rained on. It’s cloudy? Lemme break the clouds so more light shows through. Kid wants to paint a storm? Lemme aim one at the stormy barrier around Cloudy Park and maintain a very specific bolt of lightning for an hour so she can paint it. Its pouring rain and she needs to run an errand? Sure thing I’ll just break a hole in the clouds above her and manipulate said hole and clouds so the hole is always over her and she doesn’t get rained on. High winds? Not in my territory :)

He also becomes super protective of her. Susie comes to invade and mechanize Cloudy Park during Robobot (she wants the resources and data since Cloudy Park is a secluded floating island that’s hard to get to) and gets a few Robobot Armors in to try and get things under control. Adeleine steps up to help alongside Ribbon and gets her ass kicked by one of the Armors. It’s at this point that Kracko hits an anger point he’s never hit before. He destroys every single Robobot Armor that made it past his barrier and then goes after Susie, who’s making her way through the barrier and into Cloudy Park. She doesn’t even make it halfway before Kracko ups the strength of the barrier and chases her out. She sustains serious damage to her Business Suit and crash lands not far from Nutty Noon. Kracko proceeds to chase her all the way back to Dreamland and give her a couple extra warning lightning strikes to make sure she knows to stay the fuck out. Adeleine winds up being fine, she’s just got a few bad scratches and a nasty bruise, but she’s otherwise ok! Kracko carries her up to his shrine to keep her safe and stops her from leaving unless he’s positive that there’s nothing that could do her harm (the leg from the Access Ark is just across from Nutty Noon, meaning they’re in harms way 99% of the time).

Moving on from that: Kracko tends to have a bad temper. When he’s angry, he forms impenetrable thunderstorm clouds and rains lightning on Cloudy Park. Said anger comes from losing to Kirby so often but sometimes it’s from other things, like Susie trying to invade his territory. Adeleines house has been struck more times than she can count, but repairs take no time at all. Kracko tends to feel bad for striking homes (he gets blinded by rage and doesn’t realize what he’s hitting half the time. He tries to aim for desolate areas but his blinded rage can take him elsewhere) and works to help by keeping work-hindering weather at bay until said work is done.

Also, to elaborate on the barrier thing:

Cloudy Park has a huge barrier of clouds surrounding it. The clouds hold it up and stop it from plummeting into the land below, and it serves as a barrier to outsiders. Kracko is the one that formed those clouds and maintains them, putting some of his energy into keeping them around. The clouds are usually so thick you can’t see where you’re going, and Kracko uses this to confuse intruders into turning themselves around and coming right back out the way they came. Stops him from having to fight anyone and keeps his bad temper at bay. However, some threats are persistent and don’t leave so easily. Susie and the Robobot invaders were one of these threats. This leads Kracko to use a defense system in the barrier: storms. He fuels his energy into the clouds in the barrier and creates storm clouds out of them. Lightning jumps from cloud to cloud and thunderclaps sound from every part of the barrier. High winds also tend to show up that can push most beings away if they’re not careful. If the threat still persists, Kracko takes on the threat himself. He blends in with the clouds, with only a spike or an eye being visible in the stormy mass. He rains lighting and high speed hail upon the threat until they back off. If the threat even so much as slows down, Kracko ups the force of his attacks until he’s chased the threat out completely. He occasionally takes on a different move: warping the entirety of Cloudy Park to a different location. Kracko may be fierce, but he knows when he’s beat. If he feels his territory is in danger, he can use the clouds and innate magic of the land itself to physically warp the landmass that is Cloudy Park to a different location. He only does this under extensive threat like the Dark Matter invasions. Both times he moved were when he believed that Cloudy Park was at risk of being overtaken by Dark Matter. The warp is fast, taking less than an hour to do. The barrier of clouds around the island fully encase it, creating a sphere of clouds around the landmass. The clouds begin to spin and close in, high winds usually following, and then everything warps. Cloudy Park is physically warped to a new, temporary location. The first time it was the Rainbow Islands, and the second was to the outer reaches of White Wafers, hidden amongst mountains as a secondary protection. While this move usually takes Cloudy Park to safety, it leaves Kracko incredibly weak for a while. The landmass floats very close to the ground (sometimes floating in water to alleviate the stress on Kracko) and the barrier of clouds are weakened to a point where just about anything could get through. Kracko also must return to his shrine to rest and regenerate lost magic used in the warp. It can take days to fully heal up and it leaves Cloudy Park vulnerable to threats. Dark Matter took advantage of that and broke through the weakened defenses to wreak havoc on the landmass. Both times were just a day after the warp. Had the Dark Matter waited a few more days to strike, Kracko could’ve kept Cloudy Park safe.

The warp back is far less taxing, as it’s simply returning Cloudy Park to its original location. Magic is tied to the land that keeps it connected to its origin crater (the crater left from the land rising up out of the ground) and its incredibly easy to find with the right magic prowess. Kracko has such prowess and it’s very very easy for him to warp back. He simply follows the magic that connects the two and uses it as padding for the warp. It takes the magic stress off of him and makes it go faster. The warp home takes maybe 30 minutes at most, but usually less if Kracko is in good health. Once the warp is done, Cloudy Park usually returns to its origin crater and rests there for a day. Magic regenerates incredibly fast when this is done and it allows Kracko to focus on healing up. Since the 2 lands are tied by magic, a naturally occurring barrier forms over the land while Kracko is down to keep it protected while he heals so he doesn’t have to try and maintain his barrier. This connection can’t be done unless one land is weaker than the other. Think of it like trying to stick two of the same magnets together. It doesn’t work. Cloudy Park works the same. If both lands are at full health, they can’t stick together. If Cloudy Park is weakened but the origin crater it came from is at full health, or vice versa, they can stick together.

#fira knight screeches #fira makes braincells #idk why my brain decided to think about Kracko but it’s worldbuilding so I can’t complain djcjnejxkwk #also some Cloudy Park lore is in there too #it’s fun to talk about and work with because the games Cloudy Park is in don’t have much lore on it #it also doesn’t explain their location change. #so I like to think it’s over in the general area of Nutty Noon because it fits in there #but it can warp to other locations. which explains why it’s in different locations in Dreamland 2 and 3 #long post

[nanoland]

am writing hellblazer fic asfdfsfff

title: The Cave

fandom: Hellblazer

characters: John Constantine, Chas Chandler, the First of the Fallen

blurb: John gets lost in a cave. 

warnings: Depression, covid19, demons getting themselves Extremely murdered. 

0 

It was when the death toll had crested 100,000 that he’d snapped and made his way to Number 10 Downing Street with murder in his eyes and a briefcase full of every cursed artefact he owned.

“What are you gonna do, eh?” bellowed Chas, who’d been following behind him in his cab for the last half mile. He’d already tried to physically drag John into it and had received a bite on the hand for his trouble. “Chuck ‘em through the windows? That’s bulletproof glass, John! Fuck’s sake! Be reasonable!”

“Stop sodding shouting!” John shouted over his shoulder, wiping rain off his face. “You’ll spread sodding germs!”

“John, I already had it. Four months ago, remember?”

“You can have it more than once! Christ, does nobody in this city read the papers but me?”

It was fair to say that John wasn’t at his best. In his defence, he’d spent the last year sitting inside his tiny, poorly-ventilated, roach-ridden flat, vividly imagining what a respiratory virus would do to lungs that had suffered over forty years of heavy smoking, two run-ins with cancer, and the actual devil sticking his actual great big grubby clawed hand in ‘em. No fucking thank you.

Chas sighed heavily and climbed out of the cab again, slamming the door as he did. He splashed through a dozen puddles before coming to stand in John’s path, arms folded. “Listen, Conjob. I love you. Even when you’re a complete prick, which is most of the time. And I know you can do amazing things. But mate, hear me out; you cannot assassinate the British Prime Minister.”

“Someone bloody has to!” John Constantine, greatest wizard of his age, screamed at the top of his wretched, ragged, Satan-besmirched lungs.

Eventually, Chas managed to calm him down and get him home for a cup of tea.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” John grunted as his socks dried in front of the heater and the rational parts of his mind re-exerted themselves.

“S’alright.”

“How’s the bite?”

“Didn’t pierce the skin. John, you need a break. A holiday. You need to get out of town for a few weeks. Go breathe fresh country air, do some weird mystical shit with a goat, whatever it is that sorts your head out these days. But you can’t carry on like this, mate. I haven’t seen you this miserable in years.”

He handed John one of Renee’s strawberry-patterned towels. Dragging it across his face, John grunted, “Holiday? At a time like this?”

“Why not? Makes as much sense as any other time.”

“What if you come down with it again? Or Geraldine? Or Renee?”

“John,” said Chas, gently, laying a hand on his shoulder. “You already tried to cure me with magic. It didn’t work. At all. Just wasted a lot of chicken blood and Renee’s best spoons. Get this in your skull: there’s nothing you can do. Alright? I know you hate that, but it’s the truth.”

John swallowed thickly. “Yeah. Yeah. Alright.”

So he went home to his tiny flat, stuffed fresh socks and his toothbrush into a backpack, booby-trapped his front door, and fled London in the dead of night, feeling like one of those gits in Boccaccio’s Decameron.

0

“It’s called glamping.”

“Some new wizardy stuff, I’m guessing?”

Chas’s voice over the phone was distracted, like he was half-watching the telly. John was relieved; he’d wanted to hear another human speak but wasn’t feeling up to a proper conversation demanding his usual levels of sparkling charisma and staggering wit. Not right now. Not without weed, and he’d not thought to bring any.

Nestling deeper into his teak folding chair and drawing a thick woven blanket up over his knees, John said, “Nah. Not buggering about with any of that old guff until I’m back in town. Promised myself.”

“Right.”

“Don’t sound so sceptical, you git. I’ve done it before.”

“Mm-hmm. What’s your record? The longest you’ve ever gone without doing anything mystical and creepy?”

“‘Bout… hmm. Three days.”

“You’re coming up on the tail end of that right about now.”

“I know. Chas, on my word, I am going to make it to Sunday without so much as sniffing around a graveyard or wanking off a werewolf. I am on holiday.”

“Alright, alright, if you say so. Good for you, mate. So what’s this ‘glamping’ business, then?”

“It’s camping. But posh. I’m sitting up here atop a hill in Yorkshire with a tent the size of a cathedral and me chic woodburning stove and me box of white wine and feeling like the yuppiest old cunt who ever drew breath.”

“Sounds horrible.”

“It does, doesn’t it? That’s why I chose it over a nice comfy bed and breakfast. Figured I’d wake up with a cow shitting on my head and could use that as an excuse to come home early. Actually, though… it’s alright. Quiet. There’s a river at the bottom of the hill where these giggling honeymooners like to have a morning bonk but it’s far enough away that I can’t hear them unless they’re really having fun. And the weather’s been alright. It’s all surprisingly decent.”

“And you’re waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

“Yep.”

“Hmph. I should have come with you. You get all weird and introspective when you’re left alone for more than a couple days.”

“I’m not alone. There’re birds. Squirrels. A few ghosts hanging out by the toilets.”

“John.”

“Ain’t gonna talk to ‘em! Mind you, one did give me a wink when I was zipping up. How’s everything back home?”

“Er – look, I won’t lie, it’s shit. It’s all shit. But it’s not any more shit than it was when you left three days ago. Not any worse, not any better, yeah?”

“Right.”

(Stupid to be disappointed. Stupid that a part of him had secretly believed that as soon as he abandoned the sinking ship that was London, things would miraculously get better for everyone, even as another part of him, on the opposite side of his brain, had been convinced – maybe even hoped – that the moment he was gone, the entire city would descend into screaming anarchy, at which he could point and laugh from a safe distance.)

“Listen, John, I’ve gotta go. Renee needs groceries. Be careful, please?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Don’t fuck about with any occult bollocks. Don’t go foraging for brain-melting mushrooms. Don’t do anything. Just stay in your tent and read your dirty books, yeah?”

“Heard and understood, Mum.”

“Bastard.”

“Love you.”

“Yeah, you too.”

John dropped his phone onto the grass and stared up at the sky. A herd of thin grey clouds drifted past. Off in the distance, he could just make out the shape of a barn – or was it a church? Either way, there were sheep next to it.

A squirrel scurried down a nearby tree trunk and then up another one.

Yawning, he scratched his chin. (Getting scruffy. Hadn’t shaved in two days now.)

“Should prob’ly do some reading,” he mumbled to no one.

A few minutes passed.

He dangled his head back behind his seat and sang quietly: “First produced my pistol… then produced my rapier… said ‘stand and deliver’, for he were a bold deceiver… mush a-ring dum-a do dum-a da…”

Heaving a sigh, he stood up and walked around his tent to dispel pins and needles, then went inside to read his book.

“I am not bored,” he muttered fiercely, staring down at pages that might as well have been blank.

“Oh, but you are, John.”

England’s greatest wizard jumped up, wielding his novel as though it were a club, and dealt a devastating blow to empty air while screaming something along the lines of, “Raargh die die die!”

Then he waited for a moment to see if the voice returned. Tried to determine whether he could sense anything. Nope. Admittedly, that didn’t mean much these days. Lots of beasties and bastards out there had learned how to hide from him.

“Either I’m hallucinating or someone’s pissing me about,” he concluded, placing his hands on his hips. “Chas, mate, I’m sure you would agree that either constitutes a fine reason to leave this fucking tent.”

And leave he did. 

0

He went caving.

The BBC had published an article a couple years back calling the UK’s cave systems its ‘last true wilderness’. He and Chas had had a good long laugh over that, Chas suggesting that John take the caver quoted on an expedition to Faerie or maybe direct him toward any of the two hundred portals to Hell between Plymouth and the Orkney Islands.

But the article had stuck with him. Perhaps it was the obvious love the caver had for his hobby, the clean and simple joy he got out of crawling around in dark, damp holes. John was always drawn to people like that, and not just because it sounded smutty.

(Imagine if he’d loved something clean and simple; gotten into bird-watching or carpentry instead of magic. Would have saved him a lot of hassle.)

Idly, one evening, he’d poked around on the internet – now that, that really was the last true wilderness – until he’d found a map listing all the cave systems in the UK, along with a guide to which were popular, which were dangerous, which were good for a family holiday, and yes (inevitably), which had been the scenes of grisly accidents.

(Wikipedia said that historically there’d been only 136 fatalities ‘associated with recreational caving’ in the UK and that, statistically, it wasn’t a particularly dangerous hobby. Hadn’t stopped him from having vivid dreams about bodies wedged in tiny tunnels miles below ground, cooling and rotting and bloating, except how could they bloat when there simply wasn’t enough room, what happened when…

Anyway, Chas had eventually rescued him from his maudlin musings and dragged him to the pub.)

And while his memory was a messy old thing, especially these days, that just happened to be the sort of useless information that tended to hang around in his head for years, like the words to every song in Sweeney Todd or the rituals required for an exorcism spell that didn’t actually work, doing nothing but taking up space.

There was a cave only a few miles from the campsite.

When he arrived, he beheld a clumsily painted sign nailed to an oak tree next to the entrance:

CLOSED TO THE PUBLIC UNTIL SPRING

NO TRESPASSERS

HAZARDOUS! ENTER AT OWN RISK

He lingered at the cave’s mouth. Though it was big enough for him to stand up in, it made for an unassuming sight. Squirrels played in the old oak with three sets of lovers’ initials carved into it that stood at its left and the pathway leading up to it was strewn with weeds and wildflowers.

“Am I really this stupid?” he pondered aloud, before correcting himself: “Am I really this bored?”

After five minutes’ internal debate, he decided that yes, he was.

He took a step towards the narrow crevice, before stopping himself. No. This was ridiculous. What was he thinking? Shaking his head, he turned and walked away.

Three hours later he was back, now with a good pair of leather boots (stolen from an arsehole in a nearby village), a Power Rangers backpack (given to him by a kid in exchange for a cigarette and some magic tricks), a cheap flashlight, two cans of lager, and a packet of crisps (paid for with the last of his cash).

“Off we go, then,” he said, and marched into the dark. 

0

Like a well-fed leopard on a low-hanging branch, the First of the Fallen lounged across his throne of vertebrae, long black hair dribbling off his broad shoulders and pooling on the ground. Though he was wide awake, his eyes were closed. This, combined with the corpses of three supplicants dangling from nearby steel hooks, would hopefully discourage anyone from bothering him for the next few hours.

“My liege?”

Shit.

He kept still. Said nothing. Perhaps they would go away.

“Um… my liege, I’m terribly, monumentally sorry to disturb you, but…”

With a wave of his claw, the messenger exploded into red mist.

When, ten minutes later, a second messenger summoned up the courage to approach him, he realized that it must be very serious indeed.

“You have five seconds,” he said cordially, holding them up by the neck.

“Con… constantine!” they croaked.

Brightening, the First set them down. “Indeed? What’s the little bastard up to this time, eh?”

“Nothing, my liege. He’s dead.”

A few minutes later, a fourth corpse hung from a hook and the throne of Hell was empty. 

0

To the First of the Fallen, caves were still a novelty.

Confined spaces, in general, were still a novelty.

At 13.6 billion years, he was only slightly younger than the universe. While solid planets had come into existence around the same time, he’d not actually visited one until the emergence of homo sapiens and his subsequent quarrel and falling-out with God – a mere 300,000 years ago.

Cast from Heaven, naked and freezing cold, he’d stumbled into a rocky cranny by the shoreline and wedged himself between its slimy walls. That was his earliest memory of ever being ‘indoors’. No surprise, then, that he avoided such places when he could. He had built no castles in Hell; his throne sat atop a mountain beneath an endless red-gold sky.

But right now, it wasn’t the cave that had his attention, dark and chilly and, yes, slimy as it was.

“Stupid turd,” he grumbled, glowering at the corpse. “Ow!”

He’d bumped his head on the cave ceiling again. It was too low for the average human to stand upright, much less an eight-foot primordial being.

Constantine stared at him, blue eyes blank and glassy. His body was unmarred save for the dent in the left side of his scalp, which had stopped leaking some time ago. As far as the First could tell, his nemesis had simply tripped and fallen onto an unfortunately positioned, unfortunately sharp rock.

The First spat on his tie and snarled, “Pathetic! What the fuck are you even doing here, eh? And – God’s hairy bollocks, when did you last bathe?”

His soul was still dangling off him, like drool from a dog’s mouth. Heaven, obviously, had no interest in him and the First hadn’t yet authorised his admission into Hell.

Because he wasn’t ready, dammit.

He’d not been expecting to welcome John home for at least another thirty years.

“Always have to make it difficult, don’t you?”

When he reached down to take hold of the soul – such a grubby, tattered thing – it bit, blazing gold for a sliver of an instant before he snatched his hand back. Stuck his index finger in his mouth until the sting abated. Fumed.

He tried again, grasping it firmly, as one might a snake. It thrashed. He gave it a disciplinary shake before opening Constantine’s mouth with a claw and forcing it down his gullet.

Coming back to life was never enjoyable. Constantine spasmed and gurgled, legs and arms contorting as pink foam gathered at his lips. The First, bored, sat down beside him, reclining against the cave wall with one knee crooked. Surveyed their surroundings. The ground was – oh dear – littered with crisp crumbs, an empty foil packet, two cans, and dozens of cigarette butts. How foul.

“Disaster in your wake, as ever,” he commented, tutting.

Constantine groaned, eyelashes fluttering.

Belatedly realizing that he wouldn’t be able to see in this subterranean gloom, and very much wanting to afflict him with the identity of his saviour, the First snapped his fingers. A dozen lit candles appeared across the cavern, hovering ghost-like in mid-air.

“Urgh… fffu… whu… oh, Christ Almighty.”

Watching him sit up, the First assumed a lordly expression, tilting his head. “And what do you have to say for yourself?”

Unhealthily pale skin and facial muscles stretched and twisted to an indeterminable end.

Then John Constantine set his jaw.

Growled: “I’m on holiday, you bellend.”

And passed out. 

0

He awoke to the smell of slightly burnt waffles.

Better than burnt flesh, which was what he’d anticipated after His Infernal Bloody Majesty had popped in for a fag and a chat. Certainly better than sulphur.

“For you,” the First of the Fallen purred.

A white plate – averagely-sized but rendered absurdly dainty by the dimensions of the clawed fingers holding it – was set down in front of him.

He frowned at its golden-brown contents. “The catch?”

“No catch. I was peckish. I imagine you are, too.”

“Come on. Not in the mood. Did you piss on ‘em? Did you mix a baby’s blood into the batter?”

“Honestly, John.”

Scratching his chin, he reviewed the facts. Still in the same sodding cave, albeit far better illuminated than the last time he’d been conscious. Alive, but with that unmistakable stiffness that he’d come to associate with having recently been dead. Cold. Irritable.

Hungry.

His archenemy’s smug smile was almost enough to make him spit the first bite back out. Instinct borne from months of extreme poverty forced him to swallow instead.

“Tastes like shit,” he remarked, wiping his lips. “But I suppose you usually have minions to prepare food for you. Where’s the syrup?”

A regal sigh, before a bottle appeared beside the plate. He emptied a third of it and spent the next few minutes in delicious, sticky silence.

There were, as ever, consequences to allowing the First of the Fallen centre stage. The moment the big smelly git realised that John really wasn’t in the mood for banter, he waved a hand and conjured up a thin hardback with Into the Underworld: The Amateur’s Guide to Caving in Britain on the front.

As John rolled his eyes and stuffed another waffle into his mouth, the First cleared his throat and read: “‘According to the National Speleological Society, the minimum number of people required to safely embark on a recreational caving expedition is four – at least one of whom should have prior caving experience.’ Did you know that, John?”

John chewed sullenly.

“I did. I’d wager that most people do. At least, I’d wager that most people know that going caving in groups smaller than two – going caving alone – is wildly inadvisable. Caves are dangerous, John.”

Where were his cigarettes? Had the bastard nicked them?

“And… let’s see – ah! Here we are. ‘There is a great deal of commercial equipment available to a first-time caver, some of which is necessary, some of which is not. Two items, however, that are absolutely non-negotiable are a helmet and a helmet-mounted light.’ Do you have either of those, John?”

“Do I criticise your fucking hobbies?” he exploded, knowing better, knowing it would only encourage him. Sugary crumbs flew everywhere.

“You do, in fact. Often. And quite understandably. My favourite hobby is murdering your friends, after all.”

John threw the plate at his head. 

0 

He’d had a good sense of direction even before he’d learned how to see psychic residue coating streets and walls, left behind by previous travellers. Always scurrying around in places no kid should; subways, sewers, dirty basements, any haunted house his greedy little eye fell upon.

When he’d reached sixteen, burgeoning schizophrenia had muddled him up now and then. Occasionally, it’d even left him standing in streets he didn’t recognise with no earthly idea how he’d got there. PTSD had compounded the problem.

Even so, at fifty plus, he didn’t make a habit of getting lost. Meds, practice, and years of experience meant that he could walk from Chas’s house to Saint Paul’s with a blindfold on.

Long story short: This was embarrassing.

“I’m fairly sure we’re going in circles. That stalactite is very familiar.”

And he certainly wasn’t fucking helping.

(The floating candles, following them like ducklings, were. John’s torch had broken when he’d tripped. Still, he didn’t need the First of the Fallen for light. Could conjure it up himself, no bother. It just made sense to avail himself of a primordial being’s infinite magical resources before dipping into his own, far more limited stockpile.)

“Do you know the way out?” John asked, not breaking his stride.

“I do.”

“Will you tell me where it is?”

“I will not.”

“Then shut up.”

In his defence, John hadn’t thought the cave was big enough to get lost in. It hadn’t looked it from the outside.

But he’d wandered, then crawled, down at least a mile of twisting, increasingly narrow tunnels before getting himself killed. He’d kept meaning to stop; said to himself five times, ‘Okay, Conjob, this is getting stupid, let’s trot our arse back to civilisation’. Then he would notice another crevice wide enough for him to squeeze into.

“Curious place for a holiday,” the First of the Fallen commented after bravely keeping his tongue still for an unprecedented five minutes.

“Curious times we’re living in, innit?”

He hummed in agreement. “Are you really not here for any particular reason? Not – I don’t know – trying to find a missing child abducted by the fae? Searching for a wicked spirit who’s been cursing the local shepherds? Treasure-hunting, perhaps?”

“No.”

“You’re just here.”

“Yep.”

“Why?”

“I told you. I’m on holiday. Taking a nice long break.”

“John. We’ve known one another for some time. I am familiar with the ways in which you ‘take a break’. You either go to the pub or you go to several pubs. Attempting to reconnect with nature is hardly your style.”

“Being oblivious to current events – especially shit ones – is hardly your style. Been too busy shaving your chunky arse to pick up a newspaper lately?”

“Print is dying. Besides, you try managing an entire dimension. See how much spare time it leaves you. Honestly, I’m run off my feet most days.”

“So quit.”

“Don’t be silly. What else would I do?”

“I dunno. Could be a camgirl. You’ve got the legs for it.”

“Stop trying to change the subject. Why aren’t you at home?”

John stopped walking and spun to face him. “There’s a plague, you gormless, oblivious prick. I can’t go to the pub. I can’t meet up with me mates. I can’t visit people’s homes to perform exorcisms. I can’t do anything but sit indoors, on my own, for months on end, just watching everything get worse, and that… and that’s not an option. Not for me. I crack too easy. So I got out. Before I killed someone. Now, for the last time, shut up and let me concentrate.”

He bent down to tug off his shoes and socks.

Telepathic magic tended to work best when you were naked. But sod that. Not with the First of the Fuckheads watching. Waffles or no waffles, he did not deserve a treat.

“Oh, is this what we’re doing now? Marvellous! I do love watching your quaint party tricks,” he oozed with a mocking round of applause as John dropped to his knees.

Ignore him.

Taking a deep breath, John let his awareness expand.

It was hard, with the First standing right there. His presence was staggeringly heavy, weighing on the ley lines like an iron ball on a lace hammock. And so alien; elements found nowhere on Earth, bones and muscles formed before Earth had been a glint in God’s eye.

John sneered into the darkness. Piss on that. On him. This was child’s play. Buggered as his brain might be, John Constantine wasn’t going to falter at the sound, scent, or sensation of a mean-spirited old cosmic relic.

Okay, let’s see what we’ve got.

Seven years ago, three people came this way. A family. A woman; her sister; her daughter. They were having fun. The sisters had done this before; the daughter had been begging to come along for years. Afterwards, they were going for pizza. It was a good day.

Two years ago, four people came this way. All friends from work. Well – ‘friends’. One was the company CEO, the other three wanted promotions. Everyone but the boss was miserable. One was arachnophobic.

Eight months ago, a… sheep? Yeah. A sheep. Barely more than a lamb. It was lost. There was a storm and it came down here looking for shelter. Went too deep. By the time the shepherd found it, it was half-starved.

“John? What are you-…”

Ignore him.

Ten years ago, another family. Fifty years ago, a frightened child running from a monstrous father. And others – a hundred others – a thousand. The cave had a rich and storied history. Almost against his will and entirely against his better judgement, John followed its threads through the rock layers, chasing faded ghosts, brushing up against magic so ancient it had fossilised.

“John!”

Ignore him. Ignore him. Ignore-

His head was ringing. His blood was on fire.

Fuck, I’ve gone too far, too bloody deep, fuck, oh fuck.

“Constantine! Heed me!”

His eyes snapped open.

“Ah,” he said.

“Precisely,” said the First of the Fallen, who was holding him up by his coat collar like a jizz rag in need of a bin.

The cave had changed.

It was brighter, thanks to a small, well-constructed fire in its centre.

The walls were covered in paintings. Deer. Hogs. Great red and brown bulls.

A woman sat in the corner, wrapped in furs, adding detail to what might have been a fox. She didn’t seem to have noticed them.

“Did you mean to do that?” the First of the Fallen queried. 

0

“In thirty thousand years, a monk will come down here and find them. He’ll be horrified, believing that they’re the work of… well, me. So he’ll leave and return with water in buckets and scrubbing brushes. As he lies on his deathbed, he will be firmly under the impression that this great good deed will grant him entrance into Paradise.”

The First of the Fallen paused for effect, then added, “Alas, he will be mistaken.”

Without looking away from her work, the woman spoke several words in a language miles removed from any contemporary tongue John had ever heard.

“The young lady says she doesn’t mind spirits wandering her caves, but requests that we don’t chatter while she’s trying to concentrate.”

Crouching next to freshly-etched cow and her calf, feeling uncharacteristically dazzled, John said, “Ask her if I can take a picture. Ask her!”

“Homo neanderthalensis, John. She won’t have the faintest idea what you mean.”

Rolling his eyes, he fished his phone out of his trenchcoat pocket and waved it at her. When she deliberately ignored him, he shrugged and took the shot.

The flash won her attention. She stood – revealing a faded seashell necklace and a long, curving scar across her left thigh – and approached them, limping slightly. John held out the phone to show her the picture and, after a resoundingly unimpressed inspection, she uttered a terse sentence.

“She’s unsure why the sickly-looking spirit thinks shrinking her beasts in any way improves them,” said the First of the Fallen.

The woman raised her head (hard to tell how old she was; younger than him, definitely) and looked John in the eye, squinting. Another few sentences followed, some of which sounded like questions.

Sarcastic questions, unless he was mistaken.

“She asks if you shrink them because large beasts frighten you. She speculates that, if the only beasts you can bear to approach are scrawny ones, it’s no wonder that you yourself are such a measly creature. She says that she too was scared of bulls when she was a child, but that her mother taught her not to be. She wonders why your mother failed you in this regard. Should I tell her your mother died in childbirth, John?”

“Stick your head up your own arse and choke. But ask her name first.”

Tossing back his thick black hair, he scoffed. “Why? What does it matter? She’s a primitive, doomed creature and she’s not even really here. This is just one of the cave’s memories.”

“Christ – are you jealous I’m talking to her more than I’m talking to you? Because that’s fucking inane. This is a one-in-a-lifetime type deal. I’ve never spoken to a legit bloody Neanderthal. I speak to you all the blasted time, more’s the pity.”

Yellow eyes narrowed. “Maybe I’ll kill her.”

John laughed. “You said it, squire; she’s a memory. You can’t kill her. She’s long dead. Now shut up.”

He wasn’t able to learn her name. Still, via pantomime and pointing, he eventually managed to convey his desire to find a way out of the cave – or so, at least, it seemed.

She took a bundle of sticks from beside her fire, lit them, and walked towards the nearest inky-black tunnel.

“See?” he said to the First of the Fallen as they followed her. “Politeness. All it takes.”

“Don’t act like you have any real idea what’s going on. She could be leading you straight into a trap. You’re aware, I’m sure, that archaeologists generally agree Neanderthals practised cannibalism? Ten muscular relatives might be waiting right around the corner with clubs and a cooking pot.”

“For fuck’s sake – I have literally stood and watched you slouching on that colossally pathetic bone throne of yours and nibbling the edge of someone’s pelvis like it was a turkey drumstick. Loathsome bloody hypocrite.”

“That doesn’t remotely count as cannibalism, John. That was a human pelvis. I’m not a human. I’m the prototype. A species of one. Which, I suppose, means it’s technically impossible for me to commit cannibalism. Hmm. What an interesting philosophical notion.”

Walking a short way ahead, bare feet soundless against the rock, their new self-appointed guide said something.

“What was that?” John whispered.

“‘If you must burden my ears by bickering like children, you could at least do it in a language I can understand’. Then she called us a rude word.”

Then the First of the Fallen spoke several sentences in his usual bored, drawling cadence and, to John’s surprise, she laughed.

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” the First of the Fallen said, innocently.

“I’m serious, bastard. What’re you saying to her?”

“Nothing important, John, really.”

More than once after that, he caught her glancing back at them and snickering. 

0

The artist and the twisting stone galleries through which she led them – it couldn’t possibly have all been hers; the monk had destroyed the work of generations – were insufficient to keep John’s mind from straying back to important matters.

“Hey. Ponce. What’ve you done with my cigarettes?”

The First of the Fallen had plucked them from his trenchcoat pocket while he was unconscious. When it came to his sorcerer, he’d learned, you always wanted a bargaining chip to hand.

“We’re in the company of one whose lungs are as yet unsullied by the Industrial Revolution, Constantine. Are you really planning on exposing her to second-hand smoke?”

It was a prospect John, it seemed, hadn’t even considered. Obviously angry with himself for that (oh John), he snapped, “No! I was – it’s – look, she can’t get lung cancer, can she? She’s dead. Doesn’t matter what she breathes in now.”

Smothering a smile, the First of the Fallen said, “Oh? So the fact that she won’t actually perish upon inhaling your fumes is all that matters, is it? Never mind her comfort or dignity, I suppose; as long as you don’t have to clean up another corpse.”

Nostrils flared. Fists clenched. Blue eyes gleamed with something hotter and even more violent than divine wrath.

“Like you give a shit about her,” John growled.

So much in this miserable world reminds me of Heaven. The grass. The sky. The beauty. You alone remind me of the time before Heaven; that bizarre, unpredictable time when there were no rules, no beauty, only feelings, only sudden bursts of light, fierce and erratic, cutting through the void.

“Or anyone,” John continued, gathering steam. Nicotine withdrawal, the First of the Fallen suspected, was kicking in. “Remind me, what was that you said the day we met? ‘To be mortal is to be stupid, proud, conceited – and ultimately pathetic’. You showed your hand, idiot; you loathe us all. Ergo, any taunts that depend on you concealing that are a total bust. Forget about the ciggies. If they’ve been anywhere near you, I don’t want ‘em.”

For years, the First of the Fallen had secretly hoped John had forgotten his, in hindsight, ill-considered words.

(He’d meant every one of them, but at the time he’d been trying to come off as a Gentleman Devil, the quintessential Man of Wealth and Taste, affable and urbane, not a bitter, angry old monster.)

Should have known better. John was so foolishly protective when it came to humanity as an abstract concept, even while his attitude towards actual humans tended to be far more variable. He’d probably been furiously gnawing on that phrase – ‘ultimately pathetic’ – like a dog with a bone for thirty years.

Thirty years.

Was that really all the time they’d known one another? John Constantine, his Constantine, He Who Was Most Hated… a mere thirty year acquaintance?

“What’re you laughing at?”

“Heh. Nothing, John. Reminiscing, that’s all.”

“About what? Poor old Brendan?”

Brendan, Brendan. Who -? Oh yes. John’s friend. The one who’d sold his soul. The catalyst, in fact, for their meeting. Pity the bastard was in Heaven; he’d have liked to thank him.

“You see these?” said the artist, holding up her torch to illuminate a painted wolf pack. “My grandfather did these.”

“What’s she saying?” John demanded.

As the First of the Fallen translated, he gazed dispassionately at her.

The first time he’d encountered a human, they’d looked much the same. Small. Unremarkable. Clad in skins and hardened from a life exposed to this planet’s weather (he personally hated weather and had made sure there was no such thing in Hell).

Mind you, the ones he’d run into while naked and terrified and still injured from being swatted down to Earth like some insect had been much less hospitable. They hadn’t known what he was; only that he was wrong. When he’d tried to approach their campfire, they’d thrown stones at him. Slaying them all hadn’t even occurred to him. Father had said that they were precious and at that stage, he’d still given a toss about His rules. Instead, he’d slunk away.

Catching food wasn’t a problem. He was faster than any buck or bird. It was loneliness, not hunger, that drove him to try again, and again, and again. In time, they grew used to him. Even showed him kindness. They had an extraordinary capacity for that. (For all that it was so often conditional and withdrawn the moment one became too strange or too frightening.)

But he’d never grown used to them. They were, at heart, creatures of community. And he simply wasn’t. He was a species of one. The prototype. He’d always been alone but for God’s company, and adjusting to life as a member of a tribe had proved impossible. Their norms, their traditions, their complicated etiquette – it had all bewildered him, then intimidated him, then irritated him. That, combined with his ageless body and supernatural strength, had driven an inevitable wedge between them, and he’d returned to the wilderness to wander alone.

He considered telling John that story.

(Why not? He’d told him everything else and the idea that his nemesis might have an incomplete view of him was, for some reason, concerning.)

Then he considered John’s likely reaction. The curled lip. The scornful snort. “What, you looking for pity? ‘Boo-hoo, my rotten childhood turned me into a git’? Hah! Jog on, squire.”

No. John’s hatred was a hard-won prize. John’s contempt was to be avoided at all costs.

“You realise most people aren’t allowed down here,” the artist said, glancing his way. She was shorter than John, who himself was slightly shorter than the average man; her eyes were level with the First’s navel. “Only elders and those who’ve earned the right. There are grave penalties awaiting any who sneak in.”

“Really?” he replied, interested only in John’s furrowed brow and silent, aggravated attempts to work out what they were saying.

“Yes. Because this place is important. Sacred. When I was young, I spent years dreaming of being allowed to venture this deep. I don’t know the ways of spirits – but I’ll not pretend it doesn’t rankle that you spend more time studying your sickly friend than your surroundings.”

“You’re still young. Compared to me, everyone is.”

“He doesn’t even seem to like you very much. Why are you travelling with him?”

“I don’t know. Why do urine and semen come out the same hole?”

“‘It’s none of your business’ would have sufficed. Are you always this rude? Is that why the sickly one doesn’t like you?”  

“No. No, he dislikes me for other reasons.”

“Well, well, well. Hullo,” came John’s voice, and they both realised that he’d stopped walking.

Turning, the First of the Fallen spied his nemesis standing with his hands in his pockets, studying a man dressed like a thirteenth-century peasant.

“Eh? Where did he come from?” the woman asked.

In quavering tones, the peasant said, “Are you angels?”

The First of the Fallen laughed. “John! He’s asking if-…”

“Just because I can’t speak Neanderthal doesn’t mean I don’t know sodding Middle English. Give me an ounce of credit. I’m only a cocking wizard, after all,” John snapped, before addressing the new arrival: “No. Just travellers.”

The peasant’s shoulders slumped. “Oh. I thought maybe God had sent me angels. I’ve been requesting them for several days.”

John shuddered. “Bad idea. Trust me. You don’t want to mess around with that lot.”

“But I need guidance. Protection.”

“From what?”

Eyes wide, the peasant took his hand and clutched it. “My friend, can’t you see? I am being pursued.”

“By who?”

“By demons.”

(to be continued) 

#hellblazer #john constantine #chas chandler #first of the fallen #fanfic #my fic

[darkestwolfx]

Home on the Range - Re-Review #47

Just a quick note to say, I know I am super behind on replying to everyone! I will aim to go and do that now! Thank you all so so much though, I really do appreciate it. Hopefully work will slow down in a bit and I can be a little more active here.

Anyhow, let’s move onto how awesome this little house is!

Of course International Rescue have a training zone. The Gecko Gloves sound pretty useful as well. Gordon could have done with them in ‘Weather or Not’.

“Maybe I should take the lead for a change?”

“Actually, that’s not a bad idea.”

“Hey- What are you doing? That’s not what I had in mind!”

“Me next!”

Of course they’re the sort of brother’s that work together to throw each other around. That little look between Scott and Virgil was priceless. They really are a dream team.

“MAX, go and shake things up a little bit.”

Key word there MAX being “little”, not deathly. Seriously, you nearly took out three brothers!

“I can’t! He’s out of control!”

And that is the harbinger of doom for this episode.

Virgil saving Scott like a good brother.

And I love how Gordon somehow managed to make it all the way to the top!

Also, maneuver 17? We haven’t heard of it before, but they know what it means, and good for it too or we might have been spending a full twenty-two minutes looking at this wall of death.

“What a lovely place! I can see why you come here every year.”

“Nice hof your Father, to build this little ‘ome haway from ‘ome.”

A perfect sentence to give to Parker.

“Actually the Ranch belonged to the boys Mother. It’s been in her family for generations.”

A hint of Lucille! How lovely.

You know when you turn the TV on and you’re sorely disappointed? Yeah, Gordon was the epitome of that!

“Uhh, it’s her again! How many times do they have to play this thing?”

Her being Kat Cavanough - reporter from ‘Falling Skies’.

And more hints of Lucille!

“Do you remember when Mom used to take us all horseback riding?”

“Especially when Gordon was facing the wrong way. I think there’s a picture here somewhere.”

“I don’t really have much to add to the conversation.”

This is such a sweet moment! Of course Alan is younger and doesn’t have the same memories. Must be hard though, to be surrounded by brother’s who can have a conversation you can’t join in with.

Alan going out to watch Shadows take off was adorable! I mean, this episode really felt like they were trying to push Kayo and Alan, but then... I don’t really know what happened with TAG love interest story lines, save Penelope and Gordon.

“Sherbet, wait here and... guard FAB One.”

I love how the guarding idea was an afterthought, but Bertie takes it seriously! Parker and Lady Penelope having hard hats as well was genius.

“Seems hare hintruder ‘as vanished hinto thin hair.”

And sit on a rock Parker... anyone else getting flashbacks to ‘Tunnels of Time’? Just don’t touch anything, Parker. Although he did help them to find Kat! Really, what was she trying to achieve, silly woman.

A full family team up! Here we go.

“Thunderbirds are- Oh come on!”

Best launch ever. Just putting it out there.

P.S. Don’t look so down Scott.

“So, if all our ships are grounded, how are we going to get to the rescue site?”

“Fortunately, we still have some vehicles that are completely self-contained.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me! We’re actually taking Dad’s old hoverbikes?”

“They’re like the oldest things in here.”

“If these get us where we need to go then they’re gonna be our new favourite rides.”

They took a bit of ‘Jeff Tracy Fixing’ but they did actually work!

“Thunderbirds are go.”

Sort of.

It’s the old hoverbikes! The original get-around vehicles of TOS, seen in a great many episodes! They look a bit worse for wear here though, but hey.

“Since EOS isn’t affected by the malfunctions, I’ve downloaded her to a local memory bank.”

John’s coding is superior! That is what this episode teaches us! He really could take over the world...

“Hello John. You’ll be pleased to know all systems on Thunderbird Five are operating normally.”

“That’s a relief. Now, I need you to do a full system sweep. Look for anything unusual in the Z-Band Network.”

“One anomaly detected.”

“Looks like one of the transmitter nodes has been modified.”

Brains telling John to stay put was one of the best calls anyone could have made. They could have really ended up with everything stuck.

Their jet packs work on tech? I thought they were self-contained, but okay, Virgil is the expert and I bow to his superior knowledge.

“You know who I am, don’t you?”

“Yeah I do. And we know what you’ve been saying about us.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t just leave me here to rot.”

“Right now, you’re someone in a tough spot who needs help. Who you are and what you’ve done doesn’t matter.”

Brilliant attitude Scott! Many people struggle to do that.

“The Mechanic! Wait, it could be a holographic drone.”

No such luck.

Parker actually taking apart FAB One! I never thought I’d see the day.

“You’re risking your life to save mine. All of you.”

“You know that’s what we do, right? It’s the Rescue part in International Rescue.”

“Even when I was out to ruin you?”

“I’ll try not to take that personally.”

No one would blame you if you did, Scott. Gordon (and probably Alan) would have if he was down there. And that rockfall must have hurt! It was a really good improvised rescue though considering they couldn’t get their proper equipment there.

“See that wasn’t too bad.”

“Easy for you to say little brother.”

“It’s a glitch in the security log.”

“Someone was covering their tracks!”

“And that someone is still here in the compound. Grandma went looking for Brains. They could both be walking into a trap. I have to warn them!”

“John, wait! Then you might get caught in it as well. Let me try something. There. I now have a subroutine nested in the transmitter room server.”

“Is Brains in the room?”

“Yes, but so is The Mechanic.”

“The Mechanic?”

We really should be worried by how easy that was for EOS (and John) to do.

“You’re trying to build a laser.”

“Not trying. I already have.

EOS’ message was a classic! That little Scooby-Do moment was hilarious.

“Short version, The Mechanic is here.”

Those faces! Well, I suppose that’s equal to or worse in a way than The Hood breaking into Tracy Island. It also means that both of their homes have been broken into. I thought Kayo was meant to be doing all the security stuff.

“Your former employer tried a similar tactic once. It didn’t work out very well for him either.”

This confrontation was one of the best scenes I’ve ever seen.

“You need to work on your intimidation techniques, Grandma.”

“First of all, only family get to call her that. And second, EOS we need to separate the machine from the man.”

“With pleasure.”

John going in with a super back-up plan was completely awesome. EOS is super dangerous. In ‘Earthbreaker’, The Mechanic got the better of her, but she’s definitely evolved in order to be able to put a stop to him in this episode. So, that begs the question, is there anything she cannot overcome? I really loved this episodes use of John and EOS tech, as well as Brains and MAX’s relationship, and the ever continuing Brains and Mechanic battle. Even Grandma got her moments!

“You’re not welcome here.”

“Oh MAX, you’re a hero!”

Question: how did they not realise The Mechanic’s ship was in there?

Moving on.

“If there’s anything you want to know about us, all you’ve got to do is ask.”

“Really? Anything?”

“Well there are somethings we have to keep secret. Otherwise people like The Hood and The Mechanic will use them in bad ways. There may be a lot of mystery around International Rescue, but really we’re just a regular family.”

“Hey, that’s my chair!”

“No it’s not! I was here first.”

Yeah, definitely just a regular family.

“You want to hear a real story? Let me tell you some of the things Gordon says in his sleep.”

“Oh no you don’t!”

“Watch the hair.”

“Come here!”

“Oh, you’re a lot stronger than you look, Fish-boy!”

And you know what, I agree that that’s as good as place to leave it as anything.  This is an absolutely amazing episode, definitely the peak of Series 2.

#Thunderbirds are go #TAG #Home on the Range #Hoverbikes #Scott Tracy #John Tracy #virgil tracy #gordon tracy #alan tracy #MAX #brains #Grandma Tracy #Lady Penelope #Parker #Kat Cavanugh #the media #The Hood #Darkestwolfx #Re-Review Series #Jeff Tracy #lucille tracy #David Menkin #Thomas Brodie-Sangster #EOS #America #Tinusha Kryano #Rasmus Hardiker #kayvan novak #angel coulby #kayo

[threeletterslife]

02 | Over the Moon

→ previous | next

→ summary: You feel isolated in the vast American country with no one but your older brother and your six rowdy friends to keep you company. But when they disappear without a trace, you're left with nothing. Nothing until you become dragged into the world of the mob. The mafia world promises glory, fame and big bucks. But that comes with backstabbing, pain, regret and vengeance behind the veils. You're not ready for that alone. Are you?

→ genre: 85% angst, 15% fluff | mafia!au

→ warnings: profanity, scarification, mention of black market, drinking

→ wordcount: 8.1k

You wake up feeling sticky, sweaty, uncomfortable and fucking miserable.

You've never had a proper hangover before, but honestly, you can safely and surely say that this was the first and worst hangover you've ever had. Hopefully the last.

It almost becomes hard to remember the short events that had happened after you'd drunken that clear, devilish liquid, but you force yourself to salvage a few bits and parts. Not that it matters anyways. The conversations at the dinner table last night had been shallow, small talk at best. Rather uncomfortable small talk as well.

Something about the six men was not right.

You shake your head, coughing to get rid of your dry, scratchy throat. A glass of water had been left by Jimin's bed, on the nightstand. You thankfully gulp it down, hoping it washes down the rest of whatever's left of that stupid drink out of your system.

Slowly, you rise out of bed, dragging your feet to catch sight of yourself in the mirror. It shocks you—though it really shouldn't have—that you look like a trainwreck. You're wearing what you wore yesterday, but the clothes are wrinkled, wet from your sweat and (you're not gonna lie) kinda stinky. Your hair looks like a bird's nest and your eyebags are dragging your whole face down.

No surprise, but I look like shit.

You also make the acute observation that you feel like shit as well. The headache you have right now is the worst you've had in your whole life, and that's including the headaches you've harbored during finals in university. Not to mention, you're kind of hungry.

Maybe if you walk around the maze-like hallways enough, you'll come across the kitchen. It'll be like a little morning journey. But when you glance at the clock, you realize it's actually much closer to noon than morning. And by the time you find the kitchen, it might even be time for dinner.

So, quickly, you brush your hair, change out of your clothes into the new ones that had magically been placed in the marble closet and exit your room. Only when you step outside and close the door do the memories come crashing down on you.

Jimin's dead. Murdered. Nonexistent. The only member of family you had left in America, obliterated. This is a mafia house. And you're only here to make a decision, which you still haven't even come to a close to.

All of these six men (your ex-friends) could be murderers—dangerous, brooding people who you want nothing to do with. But you have no choice to be by their side or you'll be killed too. Even worse. Those people had been your closest friends. And now you can barely recognize them. It's like their human soul had melted away, replaced by some robotic heart instead. You can't quite trust them, but they're the only ones you have to trust.

You're in a mess. You can't deny that.

Helplessly, you slide down to the ground, crouching to hug yourself.Fuck. You're twenty-three and should be able to take care of yourself, but right now, you feel like you can't do anything. You're the stupid mouse stuck in an elaborate trap. It's an epiphany for too early.

You find yourself sobbing quietly, cradling your head in your arms as you empty out your chaotic feelings in tears. It must've been minutes, and you've quieted down—hiccupping and sniffling occasionally but at least with steady breaths.

It's okay.You tell yourself.You'll be okay. They're not bad people, your ex-friends. They would definitely keep you safe no matter what, especially if Jimin stressed it so much in his will. Jimin's dead and I can't change that. I'll hurt myself more if I don't accept it. I need to do what's right for me now.

You take a final deep breath before you struggle to stand up. But just as you're about to walk away like you didn't have a mental breakdown right then and there, you hear... crying?And that's definitely not you.

The sound's coming from another door right across yours. Curious and still hazy from the hangover, you tiptoe over. Pressing your ear against the door, you frown. That was clearly some heavy, depressing sobbing. The same sobbing you'd heard a lot of times growing up.

You knock on the door.

Instantly, the crying stops. Jungkook swings the door open with such force, you almost fall into the room. Looking up at him, you see that he looks perfectly fine, and if he had been crying, you could barely tell. He looks down at you with such a stoic face, you almost feel a bit intimidated.

"Hey, you okay?" you ask, trying not to sound so broken despite your internal struggles.

Your heart drops when he frowns. "Why wouldn't I be?" He searches your face, watches as you blink your slightly wet eyes, notices your sniffling nose. "Are you okay?"

"Well... I mean, not really..." You brush it off. "But uh, I heard you cry, Jungkook."

If he wasn't slightly agitated before, he was now; actually, he seemed more pissed off as if you were the thick-headed one. "That wasn't me," he grunts.

"But—"

Then you get the door slammed in your face.

You huff, whirling around too quickly before steadying yourself. "Fucking migraine," you mumble, taking more deep breaths.

'That wasn't me' my ass, you think. Only Jungkook cries like that. He'd cried like that when he didn't make the varsity tennis team in high school. When his stray cat had been run over by an evil vehicle. When he got the news that his mother passed away in Korea. And he'd always let you comfort him when he was feeling down. Now apparently he thinks he's too good for your affirmations.

You huff again.Whatever. To forget about that rude encounter, you decide to go on an exciting journey to the kitchen. Minding your dizziness, you saunter off, taking random turns around the halls. It takes a while, but you finally find yourself in the kitchen.

Once again, the interior designs take your breath away. So does the smell.Someone must've been cooking.

When you stop admiring the surroundings, you notice that Seokjin's sitting at the kitchen island. In front of him are steaming plates of what looks like the best hangover breakfast-er, lunch anyone can ask for—Korean style.

"Sleep well?" He breaks the silence. "Oh, and uh," he points to the dishes of food, "I wasn't sure if you still preferred Korean cuisine over American... But I went with your roots."

You nod slowly. "Thank you. I slept as well as anyone does when they drank too much alcohol... or found out their brother was dead," you say, shrugging. "You're not eating?"

"I already ate. We all did. We didn't want to wake you up. Sorry about the Everclear," Seokjin apologizes genuinely. "Usually it takes thirty minutes for it to knock us out, so we thought we'd have more time to get you in bed. The hangover must be horrible."

"It's okay," you say though you still feel weary. "Everything else feels worse. I think the hangover just enhances it."

With that, you begin to eat. The food is actually incredibly delicious, making you miss your mom's cooking back in Korea. You give your compliments to Seokjin, who gladly takes them with open arms. You eat in silence, nodding or shaking your head as Seokjin asks respectful questions. After the friendly one-sided talk, you express your gratitude for the lunch to Jin (he had been waiting for you in the kitchen, after all) and you begin to walk to your room (which you had asked Jin for directions).

You're feeling much better than you were when you woke up, but yesterday's events still loom over your head.

You nearly collapse on the plush bed when you enter your room. But when your head hits the pillow, it also hits something hard. "Ow," you mutter, frowning. Was this there before?You guess you hadn't noticed it when you were passed out drunk. But now...?

Reaching under the pillow, your hand touches a leather binding. You pull the object out to inspect it, only to see a journal of some sort. The black leather is soft and weathered, and the journal pages look very much used. If this journal was a private diary, it didn't seem like it because it wielded no lock.

You look around your empty room in suspicion. Just in case someone were to pop out of nowhere and see you clutching this mysterious journal.

The very first page is one of those parts in any diary that states who the diary belongs to. And your heart nearly sinks to your stomach when you see the neat handwriting scrawled across the page.

This notebook belongs to Park Jimin, it says. Your eyes tear up just thinking about his name, and your fingers caress the thin pages of paper. It's the notebook that your brother had used to write down his thoughts, his memories...

God. I can't continue on.

You slam the diary, journal or notebook—whatever it really is—shut, hugging it to your chest as you sink back into the bed. You really can't do that to yourself now. There's too much to think about already.

You'll read it when the time comes. When you feel ready—emotionally stable enough—to read the thoughts of your dead brother. For now, you'll have to wait. Wait until you feel less miserable, less confused, more put together. But you don't think you can ever be truly happy again without your brother.

It hurts even more that you had never gotten a chance to say a proper goodbye. And maybe that leather-bound notebook will give you answers? You don't know.

You feel tired already, though it's nowhere near nighttime. So you cry yourself to sleep, keeping the journal in your arms. Just keeping it by your side makes you feel like he's with you, and that you're not completely alone, after all.

Spending one whole week in a mafia home doesn't reveal anything, you've found. Jimin's six friends live a quite pretentious life, but it's nothing that's completely abnormal. There is no gun violence, no drug trading, no black market... well, that you know of. And you've been keeping an eagle eye on all of their whereabouts. So either you were stupidly oblivious or they were just good at hiding things.

For seven days you lived routinely. You can't afford to take another surprise after the surprise that was your brother's murder. In fact, the pain's reduced to an uncomfortable, numb feeling at the pit of your stomach that never goes away. Still, you're not weak. You plow through the minor pain, the emotional turmoil because that's what Jimin would've done.

You pretend you're okay in front of the others. It's probably the worst thing to do to show your vulnerability to gang members, anyway. And speaking of the gang members... it's strange. In one way, they seem so different from the people you were best friends with in your childhood. But in another... they're also completely the same.

Seokjin had always been a rather quiet leader—whether he liked it or not, people were inclined to follow him. Back then, he would always be team captain in junior high sports games or the orchestrater in any group project. But now... you had a huge suspect he was the so-called 'boss' of this gang. He was always a warm figure in your past. Comforting, caring, compassionate. He seems to be all these things now too. Yet somehow... he's also so cold. He smiles and it stretches his lips, makes his eyes sparkle, but something in you tells you it's not as genuine as you would like it to be.

Then there's Namjoon. He's actually the first friend Jimin made in America, thus the first friend you made in America as well. He was always so dedicated to research, born with this innate intelligence that made him literally unmatched in junior high and high school academics. No one could beat him in the math club or debate club... or Science Olympiad. He was the logic of the group as you remember, a role that matured on him quickly. One time you walked in on him in eighth grade playing chess by himself—to beat himself. But aside from his naturally pedantic self, Joon was more compassionate than he let on.Joon. The nickname Jimin had used to call him. It's a name that doesn't fit him now. Not when his presence in any room brings chills to your skin. Or maybe you're imagining it?

Yoongi doesn't seem like he's changed much, but only because you never really got to know him. The only memories you have of him are Yoongi sitting quietly in the corner, watching the seven of you bicker. It amused him to be observing hilarious banter—banter that he never took part in. He was naturally a bit shy and indifferent, but you know he really cares when he worries about you. He'd be the first to hand anyone a box of chocolates or a store-bought lollipop if they felt down. Yoongi had been the first to approach Jungkook after he had gotten news that his mother had died. Now? You can't tell if he's changed much. Other than the fact that his stoic face looks more tired than you remembered it years ago.

Hoseok is a different story. It's like he's changed the most out of everyone. You always knew he had firm opinions, but he never bothered to voice them as a kid. Unable to understand the language of sarcasm, he had always been teased by you and the other boys in the early years. Now, it seems like if anyone teased him of anything he'd snap and yell. And boy, he looks fucking scary when he's angry or even serious. These days, it looks as if he has absolutely no trouble at all voicing his thoughts. And sometimes, his sharp tongue gets him in trouble during 'family time' meals.

Taehyung was always kind of loud, sassy and outgoing, and he still is. Except you think he now has some infatuation with females. It's easy for him to start talking about all the hot ones he saw while working his shift in the restaurant. Though the talk makes you feel slightly uncomfortable, it's still a nice break from the other men who are so damn serious. It's weird that sometimes, you find yourself searching for Taehyung's company these days. You, of all people, searching for someone else? Unheard of. Until now.

Ah, Jungkook. He's the boy you remember as the most empathetic person you've ever met. When you were thirteen and fell off your bike after Taehyung told you he'd do your math homework if you rode your bicycle with your eyes closed, Jungkook cried with you. Like hell, you'd taken quite a fall, and that bloody cut was fucking painful—you still remember. And it was like Jungkook felt your pain. He feels everyone's pain. It's only sad because you think he's trying to repress his empathy these days. You recall when he had slammed the door in your face because you had rightfully accused him of crying over Jimin's death. He used to wear his heart on his sleeve, but now he's trying to be stoic. And maybe for a good reason.

You just wonder what Jimin's like. If he had changed as drastically as Hoseok or as little as Yoongi. Maybe like everyone else he got a little bit colder? More merciless? The thought chills you, though you're ready to know.

Making yourself comfortable in your bed, you pull out Jimin's black notebook. It feels heavy in your hands. You take a deep breath, then open it to the second page, where the first entry is.

Immediately, you recognize the handwriting, and you find yourself fighting the urge to tear up again. The date of this entry is the year he had dropped out of college and disappeared. You steady your breaths, and finally, begin to read the neat writing.

I can’t believe I’m in the mafia. I mean, I’ve thought about it for years, wondered what it would be like... if I’d even feel a difference. But I don’t. I feel the same. But this blood that courses through my veins... It doesn’t belong to me anymore. It belongs to us all. The Crescents. Beautiful name, isn’t it? Joon and I came up with it years ago and decided it was finally time to put it to use. It’s my dream come true, actually. Being in the mafia with the people I would die for. I’m ready for anything with these six people by my side. 

You stop. There's a certain eagerness in Jimin's voice that hurts when you come across it. Warmth blossoms in your heart when you see how much love and trust he puts in his friends. It's Jimin's voice, alright. The passion, determination, love is all there.

The entry is rather long, but you just can't bring yourself to read the rest. Not when it brings back so many memories... No, I'll go reverse chronological order. Maybe in the later entries, Jimin will sound less recognizable; it won't make you as sad to read it. You'll come back to this first entry later. But definitely not now.

You breathe out a breath you hadn't even known you'd held. And the emotion you feel next is something you didn't expect.Anger.

What kind of fucktard in their right mind would kill someone like him? Someone innocent, kind, passionate, diligent? Someone who had such big dreams coupled with a heart bigger than anyone else's?? Jimin's eyes were always shining with curiosity or determination. What would it feel like to be the person who rid him of that sparkle?

Your blood boils just thinking about it. Twenty-four is too young to fucking die. Your head hurts as you close the diary shut.

Now it's in your best interest to stay... to join.You want revenge on the bitch that killed your brother, and you can't do that all by yourself. Seokjin was offering you help for vengeance. And a week later, you realize that you need just that.

You feel so much better finally making the executive decision. It's like the massive weight on your shoulders had been lifted, magically.

When dinner time comes, you parade into the dining room, feeling confident (which was probably fueled by your anger). "I want to join you."

Taehyung gives you a funny look. "Sure? The wine's here if you want a drink."

You shake your head, frustrated. "No, I want to join... I want to be a part of your gang."

Everyone except Seokjin raises an eyebrow.

"And that's... not an impulse decision?" Namjoon asks, sipping his wine.

"It's... Yeah, it's not an impulse decision."

Seokjin nods, thoughtfully. "Great, Y/N." Everyone watches as he carefully thinks of his next words. "You may sit and eat, now."

What?

You'd spent a week deciding, and that was his reaction? You still don't know anything about this gang (which is a huge risk on your part), and you decided to join. And that's how he's going to react?

You watch everyone else's faces, but they're as unreadable as ever. Frustration ensues as the rest of dinner goes on as if the declaration of your decision had not happened. Feeling a little neglected and pissed off, you poke at your sushi the whole time.

Only when Jungkook and Taehyung start taking the dishes away does Seokjin mysteriously show up by your side. "Follow me, Y/N."

"Just me?" you whisper, though you don't know why.

Jin nods, helping you stand up as he swiftly guides you away from the dining hall. He leads you, hand on your back, to the enormous patio in the backyard. It's not chilly out, thanks to the California weather, but you shiver at the weight of Jin's gaze on you.

It's silent for a while as both of you collect your thoughts. Then Seokjin speaks. "I just wanted to make sure you know the commitments of being involved in us."

"Well, I wouldn't know because it was never specified," you say a bit crossly. "I'm blindly joining, you know? For the sake of Jimin. I'm getting my revenge."

"Ah, my apologies," Jin says. "You'll be informed of your exact commitments later, but what comes first is your oath. We're a family around here as you know..."

You let out an embarrassing gasp when he tugs his t-shirt down so suddenly. Jin chuckles at your reaction before guiding your eyes to the mark... burned on his collarbone.

"Well, that's not a normal tattoo."

Jin laughs quietly. "It's our gang symbol. A crescent-shaped scar that ties us all together. We're called the Crescents."

But you knew that already.

"Oh," you breathe. The scar looks delicate, not larger than a thumb for that matter. But it holds heavy meaning and you tremble slightly as you stare at it in awe. "Does... Does everyone have that?"

"In different places, of course," Jin nods before straightening his shirt, hiding his mark from view.

Your voice shakes as you ask, "Where's Jimin's?"

"I knew you'd ask that," Jin smiles. "It was on the back of his neck. And before you ask why, it was so we would always be watching his back for him... Granted, we... w-we failed." You hear a slight tremble in Jin's voice. "The biggest regret of my life."

You suck in a breath, contemplating whether you should pat his shoulder to comfort him or not. The usually stoic and guarded Seokjin was showing emotion, a rather rare sight. But it's gone as fast as it came.

"Anyways," Jin says, clearing his throat. "We'll have your ceremony soon. Don't worry," he smiles, one foot already inside the house, "the scarification doesn't hurt that much." With that, he walks away, leaving you outside in the night, alone, curious and mystified.

Am I making a mistake?

When Seokjin had told you with his soft-spoken voice that the ceremony would be 'soon,' you'd expected it to be in a few days, or even in a week, tops. You did not expect it to be the very next day.

In fact, you were totally taken by surprise when Jungkook had woken you up quite nicely and told you to get ready for the ceremony. He'd left the room while you changed and freshened up, but you took so long getting ready, he almost opened up the door to check on you. But what can you say? You were stalling for a reason.

Partly, you were afraid of the physical pain. You had tried to ask Jungkook how much scarification actually hurt, but he'd told you not to worry about it.Bullshit answer. But another, deeper part of you feared what the scarification would symbolize... This was it, right? You were going to leave your past life and enter the mafia world. The world that killed your brother.

And you weren't going to leave until you got your revenge.

"Y/N?" Jungkook calls, shaking you from your thoughts. "Can I come in?"

"Yeah," you call back, running a hand through your hair. You're terrified, but you won't be able to show it.

Jungkook peeks his head into your room, giving you a reassuring smile. "Ready?"

You nod. "Mhm."

"There's nothing to be afraid of, really," he tells you as he opens your door a bit wider. From behind him, you can see Taehyung grinning right at you.

"If this big baby can do it," Taehyung snorts, pointing at Jungkook, "then so can you."

Jungkook gives Taehyung a disdainful look, which sends Taehyung into a fit of laughter. You appreciate that they're trying to alleviate the obvious tension on your shoulders, but unfortunately, you're not sure if you'll ever feel relaxed again.

"C'mon, Y/N. They're waiting for us," Tae announces, bowing dramatically before jutting out his hand for you to take. You hesitate for the slightest second before you take it.

From there, Jungkook and Taehyung guide you around the winding halls of the mansion. By now, you would've thought you'd get used to the size to some degree, but the home is apparently way larger than you thought. Past at least twenty doors and fourteen thousand medieval portraits later, you were standing in a large basement.

The room glowed a warm, amber color, but you didn't feel warm at all. When you catch sight of the wall with all sorts of sharp metal welding sticks, you take a terrified step back, accidentally bumping into Jungkook. He places a reassuring hand on your back, but it does little to calm your nerves.

"Relax, Y/N," Seokjin says. Your head snaps up to look at the man who had spoken, and your face is stoic but your eyes hold terror. It's then when you realize everyone else is in the room.

Of course. It's a ceremony. Can't have a goddamn ceremony without other people.

"Here, Y/N. You can sit here," Jin says as he gestures to a comfy-looking seat that was placed in the middle of the room. "It'll hurt less than getting an actual tattoo."

"But I've never gotten an actual tattoo before..." you mumble as you cautiously take your seat. Even though the cushion is plush, you still sit rigidly.

"Don't worry. It'll be fine. High pain tolerance?" Yoongi asks.

"Uh... I dunno," you answer truthfully. "Not really."

"You'll be fine," Hoseok sighs. "It's only strike branding, so the heat will be gone as soon as it came. It'll take anywhere from half a year to a year for it to heal completely, though. Anyway, the feeling's enough to make you regret it, but it'll be over in a few seconds."

His words do not calm you. As per usual.

"Yoongi will be orchestrating the scarification," Seokjin says. "Nimble fingers. He'll try to make it quick, right?"

"Yeah, right," Yoongi mutters. "Where do you want it?"

"What about under your boob? That's trendy these days." Taehyung snickers, nudging Jungkook who breaks a small smile.

You frown, just about to give him a piece of your mind when—

"Get out," Namjoon growls.

"Can't. Ceremonies are a family deal. Can't just kick out family, can you?" Taehyung snickers. "Besides, Y/N didn't mind. It was just an innocent joke."

"I'm not going to repeat myself," Namjoon warns. And the way he grits his teeth has you almost shaking in fear. But Taehyung doesn't seem to take the hint.

"Maybe you should go..." Jungkook whispers.

"Bullshit," Taehyung snorts. "Jin?"

Jin sighs as he looks warily at the trouble-causing man. "You can stay, but not another word."

Namjoon huffs and he rolls his eyes as Taehyung grins gleefully, making a motion of locking his lips and throwing away the key.

You watch the whole ordeal spread out before you, opened-mouthed. What the fuck just happened??

"Well?" Yoongi softly asks you as a reminder to answer.

"Uh, sorry," you hesitate. "I want it on the back of my neck."

Like Jimin's.

"Like Jimin's," Yoongi repeats your thoughts.

He watches as you shiver slightly in fear and for the slightest second, he feels pity. "If it helps you, you're welcome to close your eyes," Yoongi says. Still shaking, you nod, doing so. "Just... don't move."

"Okay," you squeak out.

You can feel Yoongi sweep your hair to the side, his warm, delicate fingers tracing the area on the back of your neck. You can feel goosebumps rise, and you pray that Yoongi doesn't see them.

"Take slow, deep breaths," Yoongi mutters.

Breathe, you tell yourself. If Jimin did it, I can.

The soft clinks of metal make your mind go foggy, and you can't seem to concentrate on anything except the imminent pain. You're shaking and you can feel your hands accumulating sweat.

"Relax..." Yoongi says. He waits for you to calm down for a few seconds before asking: "Ready?"

You grit your teeth, sit a bit taller, shut your eyes tighter and nod.

"Alright."

You gasp loudly and jump slightly when the searing heat touches the back of your neck. Immediately your face twists in pain, and you can't seem to catch your breath. You're seconds away from screaming that you want it to end when the scalding heat is gone. So you're left gasping, tears brimming your shut eyes as you feel Yoongi softly taking your hair and tying it up so it doesn't touch your burning skin.

"Don't drink too much alcohol or caffeine while that's healing," he instructs formally. But when he notices you're not answering, he asks, "Hey, are you okay?"

You exhale loudly, clenching your fists as your eyes flutter open. Your sight is a bit blurry through your tears, but you're pretty all right. Well, the back of your neck is killing you, though.

"I'm fine," you manage to mutter. "I'll live."

"Here," Yoongi says, handing you a tissue for your tears. "Congratulations, by the way."

Fuck. It's then when it really dawns on you.

"I'm a Crescent." You wipe the last of your tears away to see Seokjin smiling proudly at you.

"Welcome to the family, Y/N," Jin says. "How does it feel so far?"

You pause. Then, you frown. Compared to what Jimin had written what being a Crescent would feel like, you felt nothing special. You don't feel any different either, except for the stupid pain on the back of your neck. The world spins and you're left feeling dizzy.

What have I done?

"I..." you trail off. "Sorry, I think I need some time alone." With that, you dash away from the amber-lit basement and miraculously, find your room in a matter of minutes.

In the comforting depths of your room, you crawl into your bed and desperately pull out Jimin's journal. You need all the reassurance you can get. That this wasn't a mistake. That it was the right choice.

It had been cowardly of you to flee your new 'family' like that... but you couldn't bear to sit there with all the attention on you when you weren't even sure you'd made the right decision.

With shaking, careful hands, you flip to the last entry of Jimin's journal. Maybe this will offer a sort of relief? A break from the disaster that could be unfolding before your eyes. But as your eyes start to take in the words that Jimin had written in his journal, your faith in your decision fades. You are not relieved. You are horrified.

Cold day today. California shouldn’t be this fucking cold. It’s harder to get the job done when my mind’s only focused on how freezing my toes are. Too many things to do, such little time.Don’t remember the last time I got rest. Tae wants the three of us hitmen to go get a drink at the bar. I’m not feeling too particularly down for it. Knowing JK though, he’d do whatever Tae suggests. Guess I’ll go then. Have to get ourselves mentally ready for tomorrow, anyway. Can’t afford to get wasted. Maybe I’ll switch Tae and JK’s drinks out with water and tell them it’s Everclear. Won’t be the first time I’ve done it. I have a feeling it won’t be the last. 

You stare at the short journal entry in shock.

What... What was this?

The emotion, the passion, the light, the love is nowhere in the writing. Your brother had sounded tired and it was depicted in his rather messy scrawl. Usually, his handwriting was so neat.

Now you're having second thoughts. How much did Park Jimin change? How could the man who had written this entry be the same boyish brother you'd known for nearly all your life?

He sounds so cold and distant that you feel cold and distant as well. What had the mafia done to him?

Oh god. What have I gotten myself into? Can I back out? Is it too late?

The only reassurance you had is shattered.

The knock on the door also shatters your thoughts.

You quickly drop Jimin's journal, stashing it away under your pillow as you look at your closed door with alertness. There's another knock when you don't answer the first time.

"Hey, Y/N? You there?" Taehyung calls. "I'm sorry about that joke earlier... if that's what made you uncomfortable enough to run away."

Shit.

That's Taehyung. And there's no doubt that Jungkook's with him too.

You feel like you'd just been caught gossiping about both of them behind their backs. Well, it wasn't completely false. It'd just been revealed to you that those two are hitmen... And your brother hadn't been particularly fond of their antics. Besides, it sounded a lot like Jimin had to pick up after Jungkook and Taehyung's messes.

But you bite your lip and force yourself to respond. "I'm here," you call out dejectedly. "And you're fine... I wasn't that offended."

"Well, Y/N, we, uh... we're here to escort you to a meeting," Jungkook says. "You know, since you're..." he trails off.

"Right," you mumble. "Just... wait a minute. Please."

Hurriedly, you try to redo your hair in a messy bun and straighten out your clothes. Hopefully, it doesn't look like you've just had a midlife crisis. You take a couple of deep breaths, trying to calm down your spiked heart rate. Then, you come out of your room looking pretty put-together.

"You good?" Jungkook whispers. "Your face is a bit red." He reaches over to place the back of his hand to your forehead, but you flinch away.

"No, I'm fine," you quickly say. "I don't have a fever."

Jungkook nods quietly and steps back to give you some space.

If Jungkook was offended by the way you flinched away from him, he didn't show it. If Taehyung was mad that you left suddenly after your ceremony, he made no mention of it. The usually chatty Taehyung was actually pretty quiet the whole walk to this meeting place. And it was a good thing too. The silence lets you drown in your thoughts.

Who can you trust now?

As you, Jungkook and Taehyung approach a room with large, mahogany doors, you can hear broken arguments being yelled at inside. The yelling makes you frown and you perk your ears to listen closely. You're able to make out words but not the speakers.

"We haven't had a new member in six years. She can't possibly adjust to this new life! She's not like us! She had no desire for this and you know that!"

"She's with us now. We just had the ceremony for fuck's sake!"

"SHE FLED FROM HER OWN CEREMONY!"

"THE MARK IS STILL EMBEDDED IN HER SKIN!"

The last statement sends a twinge of pain to the burn on your neck and you almost step back at the force of the words. It sounds like some people don't want you here.

You look to Jungkook and Taehyung to see their reactions, but they're as stoic as ever. Instead, Taehyung knocks loudly on the doors and the bickering voices dwindle to a pause.

The doors slowly open and behind them, you're able to make out the four others. Yoongi looks pissed off, Hoseok's red in the face and Namjoon looks very annoyed. Seokjin is the only one who seems to have kept his composure in the argument.

"Welcome, Y/N," Jin speaks. If they suspected you heard their arguments, they didn't make a show of it. "As you may know... well," he trails off, smiling fondly at you. "We'll continue this discussion somewhere more private."

You frown in utter confusion until Namjoon presses a hidden button somewhere on the wall and enters a code on a number pad that appeared out of nowhere. A whole new door opens up before you.

A secret room?

"Come," Jin says as he smoothly walks into the new room. You follow hesitantly with Jungkook and Taehyung by your side.

The other room is completely white minus the large table and chairs in the center. As soon as everyone steps in, Jungkook shuts the door, which disappears into the wall. Now, it looks like there's no escape from the blinding whiteness of the room. You feel like you're reduced to dirt in this vast oblivion, and Jin must've sensed your uncomfortableness.

"Here, Y/N. You can sit here," Jin gestures to one of the chairs beside the power seat. "No worries. This is just a soundproof room we use to discuss our matters." He smiles at you again. "I think it's time we finally tell you more about us."

"I think it's about time too," you mumble as you slide into your seat.

You had never been one to make such impulsive decisions... And even though you'd been pondering whether to join the Crescents for a week, you still feel as if your decision had been on a complete whim. That impulse had definitely been fueled by your desire for vengeance. Without knowing anything about this gang except the members involved and the name of it, you've joined. And now their mark is burning in the back of your neck.

"Well, what would you like to know?" Seokjin asks. He motions for everyone else to take their seats and they do, obediently. "We have all the answers."

You raise your eyebrows. "What... well... What are the Crescents?"

"That's ambiguous, don't you think?" Hoseok snorts. "We're a lot of things."

"We're a small gang, as you can see," Jin says, ignoring Hoseok's snarky comment. "We try to stray from street violence as an unspoken rule. And well, we make our immense profits through the black market."

Your face scrunches.The black market, huh?

"We don't engage in prostitution or drug dealing, if that's what you're thinking," Namjoon says. "Though I can only speak for myself." He glares at Taehyung who rolls his eyes so hard they disappear up his head for a few seconds.

"Yoongi and I are in charge of the sales," Hoseok sighs, shrugging. "Not the best job. But not the worst."

"The sale of what?" you ask. But you don't know if you want an answer.

"Sale of weapons, of course," Taehyung grins. "We have good connections everywhere."

Ah. Things are starting to click. Of course, arms dealing would make a lot of money—especially in the mafia.

"But sometimes, JK and I get to test these weapons out..." Taehyung smiles. "Only if Boss permits it."

Boss?

Your head whirls with all sorts of new information that had been kept from you until now.

"You're... You're the boss." You look at Seokjin dead in the eye, cocking your head.

"Was I that obvious?" he chuckles. "And since you've figured me out, I'll indulge you in the rest. You see, Namjoon's the underboss. Yoongi and Hoseok are right under him as our dealers... And Jungkook and Taehyung are our hitmen."

Right... Of course. Now it was all too obvious. But...

"What am I gonna do?" you ask.

"Nothing," Namjoon quickly says. "You won't have to do anything."

"She's a Crescent now," Hoseok snaps. "She's responsible for something."

Before Namjoon retorts back, Jin cuts in. "You'll be working alongside Yoongi and Hoseok, Y/N. We were hoping that your master's degree in economics will help us out." He notices your hesitation again. "Don't worry. It's not a dangerous job at all. Yoongi and Hoseok will teach you the ins and outs of it, soon."

You nervously look over at Yoongi and Hoseok who are apparently your new 'co-workers.' Yoongi's stoic as usual and Hoseok looks like he couldn't care less. Some welcoming new co-workers you have.

But it doesn't matter. You're here for one thing and one thing only.

"What are we going to do to avenge Jimin's death?" you say, crossing your arms. "I want to take part in that."

"Of course," Jin nods. "Soon. It'll be very soon."

The last time Jin had claimed something would be soon, it had been the very next day. You feel just a little bit calmer when you realize you might be getting your revenge sooner than you thought.

"Good..." you mumble. "Is there anything else I need to know?"

Hoseok laughs. "Oh, Y/N, we haven't even begun."

4 a.m.

You've been staring at the same damn ceiling for nearly two hours now, but you can't get yourself to fall back asleep or even get out of bed.

You try not to think too much about what you've gotten yourself into, but it's hard not to when you're all alone in the dark with nothing but your thoughts. You can't take the stupid silence anymore.

Suddenly flinging the bed covers off, you get out of bed to reach under your mattress where Jimin's diary was. It's an instinctive, impulsive move that shocks you. The last time you'd read that diary, your hopes had shattered—your brother had felt foreign to you. But somewhere inside of you believed that if you continue reading, you'd be able to see the older brother you'd thought you'd known all your life. The more, the faster you read, the quicker you'll get to see the old Jimin. The one who wasn't tainted by the mafia. The one who didn't sound so cold. The one who you loved dearly.

So you immerse yourself into the words. The entries that Jimin had left (probably unknowingly) for you to read.

But time passes too slowly.

Maybe you're tired, or the writing is bland. You don't know. Whatever you're reading sounds too far off from your brother for you to fully believe in it. The events he describes seem to drag on endlessly without a peak in the story. Maybe you should just call it a day...?

But you don't feel tired. And your room isn't interesting to stare at after two hours of already doing so. You know what? I need to get out of this room.

You carefully tuck the diary back under your mattress and creep out of the room to find the hallways completely dark. There's something solemn about it, something you can't quite put a finger on. The place is so grand but there's an undeniable heaviness drenching the walls; or maybe that's just you, mourning over your brother. But being out of the confines of your room is better so you begin your little nighttime journey.

Honestly, you don't know where you're going. You're just letting your feet carry you as you try to keep your mind as blank as possible. Right foot. Left foot. Right foot. Left. Right. Left. You stare at your feet as you mindlessly wander around the hallway.

It's actually quite a peaceful time, and you find yourself getting more tired by the minute as if the walking was lulling you to sleep. After taking a few more steps, you decide to just go back to your room and call it a night. Maybe you'll wake up the next day feeling a bit better?

Just as you're about to find your way back to your room, you hear voices. Loud, kind of pissed off, whispers. They are too muffled for you to make out what they are saying so you begin to tiptoe towards them.

When you come close enough to hear, you can also make out the presence of Yoongi and Namjoon. But you have to squint to see their facial expressions. Yoongi is leaning against the wall with his arms crossed as Namjoon is frantically gesturing and pushing his hair back in frustration.

"She reminds me of him too much," Namjoon says, massaging his forehead.

"I know," Yoongi mumbles, sighing as he relaxes against the wall.

"Whenever I see her, I can't help but think of him and it's absolutely horrible. It's like the ghost of Park Jimin is walking down these halls... but it's just Y/N. Doesn't it hurt to look at her and see Jimin's face?"

"Of course it does," Yoongi sighs. "We can't do anything about it, though. Boss wants her here and so does everyone else."

"But you know what everyone else's intentions are," Namjoon scoffs. "Call him Seokjin, for god's sake, Yoongi. He's not even around."

"Fine. Seokjin wants her here."

"Yet she shouldn't even be here," Namjoon sighs.

"I know..."

"But you work with her now," Namjoon says. "You should do something. Get her to leave."

Yoongi sighs a second time. "As much as I'd want to, you know we can't."

"You're right..."

"I know that too," Yoongi sighs.

You frown as you watch the conversation unfold before you, wondering what on earth the intentions the others had. And it hurt to hear that you reminded Namjoon too much of your dead brother... After all, he was the man that your brother had cherished the most. But it wasn't your fault that you reminded them of Jimin. In fact, you were mourning just like they were.

So other than Namjoon and Yoongi, what was keeping the other men from agreeing to your stay? What were their intentions?

You're lightly surprised at yourself that you're not that infuriated by Namjoon nor Yoongi's words; but you realize that you're more saddened by the thought that your presence is actually hurting others, instead. Just when I thought I could have a relaxing night's sleep.

But maybe if you go to bed right now, you won't remember this ever happened? You're kidding yourself, but it had just been an excuse to get out of the dark halls at the ass crack of dawn. Of course, right when you turn to move, the floor creaks.

"Y/N?" Namjoon calls.

Shoot.

You freeze.

"We can see you," he says.

I guess there's no use hiding now. No use denying anything, either.

You hesitate for the slightest second before walking closer to the two men. "I heard you two," you confess, awkwardly putting your hands behind your back.

"We realize that now," Yoongi mutters under his breath.

"Listen," Namjoon sighs, scratching his head, awkwardly. "It's nothing against you, alright? Please, don't be mad, Y/N. I wanted you to leave because this is a dangerous business. You have to understand that we're asking you to risk your life every day."

"We're only saying this might not be the... correct lifestyle for you," Yoongi says. "It's been a lot to take in in such little time."

"Are you sure it's not because I remind you too much of Jimin?"

Namjoon visibly flinches, but Yoongi doesn't blink an eye. "We want you to be safe for Jimin's sake," the shorter man says as he readjusts his position leaning against the wall. "I just don't think he would've wanted you here."

"Wrong words," Namjoon groans, burying his face in his hands.

"Yeah..." you raise your eyebrows. "What do you mean? Jimin wrote in his will that he wanted me here. And I'm here to keep myself safe—that's what Jimin would've wanted."

Yoongi sighs. "Nevermind."

"You can't just drop a bomb on me and tell me it's nothing," you say. "You don't want me here for a reason and that reason is that I remind you of Jimin too much. You said the others have other intentions, which is why they agreed to keep me here. I want to know."

"I think you're overstepping your boundaries," Namjoon grunts. He suddenly towers over you, straightening his chest and back as he stares intimidatingly into your eyes. If he's using his position as the apparent underboss to scare you away, you're not going to back down. Instead, you take a step forward towards him.

"Boundaries?" you scoff. "What makes you think you can draw boundaries for me? I'm the one in charge of that."

"Both of you, calm down," Yoongi says. "Y/N, the rest of us wanted you here to honor Jimin's last wishes, all right? There's no need for a verbal fight. It's too early in the morning. You should go to bed."

Why does it feel like he's making up bullshit to get me to leave?

"I'll escort you back if you want," Namjoon offers, scratching the back of his head.

You shake your head, sighing. "I think I'll be fine, Namjoon. Besides, you don't want to be walking down a dark corridor at night with someone that looks like Jimin's ghost, do you?"

You don't let either of them speak another word as you whirl around and walk away.

—previous | next

—masterpost

—masterlist

#bts #bts fanfiction #ot7 #seokjin #yoongi #hoseok #namjoon #jimin #taehyung #jungkook #mafia au #over the moon #otm

[whirlybirdwhat]

(One Shot, 15k+, Gen, Monster Trio, temporary character death, please see ao3 for more detailed warnings)

“Zoro!” The reindeer shouts, and uh oh that’s his scolding voice. What did Zoro do now?! “Where have you been? I need to check you over I want to make sure cutting that rock did nothing!”

“What do you mean, you’ve been with me the entire-“

Wait.

Had Chopper been with him? Out on deck?

Zoro can’t recall.

“I don’t care, sit down!” Chopper gives him the eyes, and dimly worried, Zoro acquiesces to his pleas.

It’s nothing, surely, he thinks, accepting the drink from Sanji and belatedly (uncaringly) realizing this is nothing like him to be so nonchalant about a lack of skill.

It’s nothing at all.

Hehehehe!

-

The Monster Trio arrive on a strange island.

what the ocean drags down

If he had to pinpoint a moment it all began, Sanji would say it was three days before that island, when he had woken up in the middle of the night to a nightmare -

(Along on a rock with his hands bleeding out and blood on his face, sticky behind the metal mask that locked him in with all his fears all of them all of them and oh, were those bones he could feel along his sides?)

And gone down to the kitchen to fix a snack to calm his nerves.

Nightmares were nothing new, of course. All the straw hats had them, at one time or another. A pirate’s life is rarely free of danger, and before this crew of dreams they weren’t always living the happiest of lives.

Seeing both Zoro and Luffy in the kitchen, however, is new.

Zoro is sitting on the floor in the galley corner, tense and hands white knuckled around the bottle in his hands. He seems high strung, though his swords are laid a carful distance away as if he doesn’t want to reach for them accidentally. His one eye flashes dimly in the light, as if he’s shaken and wary.

Sanji has never seen him look like this, save for the few times he had thought a crew member had died.

(Luffy shot in the back and not getting up, the wretched screaming of their captain’s name wrenching from Zoro’s throat-)

Luffy, next to him, is the exact opposite. Instead of sitting tall and wary, he is hunched and trembling minutely. He looks small, in a way Sanji has almost never associated with their exuberant captain and future king. His hat is laid low over his face as he looks with his head down between his knees. He’s slouching against Zoro, as if trying to keep quiet and on the lookout for someone.

As if to remind himself that he’s not alone.

(After their two years of training, it had been a month before Luffy decided that he could sleep in his own bed. He had been clingy (they all had been) and in quiet moments he had admitted that Rayleigh had left him with just the animals for the remaining six months of his training.

“It’s okay!” Luffy had said. “It was just like when Ace had left to go sea!” His brother’s name hadn’t cracked in his mouth. His captain is strong. “I was alone cause I had to get stronger, so I couldn’t visit the bandits or Makino or anyone! But it’s okay this time, because I knew I had you guys!”

Why did he always have to be alone when it was worse than being hurt?)

“Hey knuckleheads,” Sanji starts, voice soft. He knows not to startle them despite the newness of the situation. “Want something to eat?”

Luffy peeks up from under his hat, revealing one wet eye, and mumbles meat. He’s not getting some, because they do have to ration it and Sanji is checking storage tomorrow, but he will get something to help him sleep. Zoro grunts, his one eye finally focusing in and his body becoming a little less wired. He leans into Luffy more, letting his fingers relax from their tight hold on the neck of the bottle.

Sanji takes that as a yes, and pretends not to notice the way Zoro’s eye zeroes in his trembling fingers and the way Luffy’s eyes don’t but he notices the shaking anyway, uncurling from his ball at the sense of pain in his crew.

Sanji offers him a slight smile, and turns on the stove to a low simmer. Some cinnamon tea to help sleep, and some leftover onigiri from before dinner (because, with Luffy, there was never any leftovers after dinner) would be a good start.  Zoro grunts again and stands up, offering a hand to Luffy before grabbing his swords and sliding into the booth.

The kitchen is quiet, save for the waves crashing against the side of the ship. Robin is on watch, isn’t she? Or were they trying out Franky’s new automated watch system?

Ah. Whatever. Sanji will check once he gets these two (and himself) sorted out.

By the time the tea is done and the onigiri prepped, his hands have stopped shaking. Zoro is slumped into Luffy’s shoulder, and the captain himself has buried his face into crossed arms at the table.  His hat is now falling gently on his back, making something in Sanji calm.

(Luffy only ever pulls the hat over his eyes if he’s far too angry to think, has a point to make, or is making an expression (tears, fear, Sanji never knows) that he doesn’t want his crew to see.)

Sanji slides the tea and onigiri in front of them both, taking care to make sure the food lands more on Zoro’s side so he has a better chance of biting into it before Luffy gets his hands on it. He then takes a place to Luffy’s left, where he can slump into him as well, his own cup warming his hands.

He takes a breath of the steam coming off it, and takes a sip, gently smiling at the pleased sound Luffy makes as he does the same.

The temptation to speak, to ask what brought them to the kitchen is slowly creeping in, but it can wait.

The kitchen at night, when there is no storm or pressing adventure, is a place for quiet and warmth. No nightmares, no shaking hands or tense shoulders, can find them here with a warm drink between their hands.

Eventually, Luffy is the first to doze off, onigiri eaten (but not entirely – worrying) and drink all but gone. He slumps into Zoro who then carries him to the bench behind them, Sanji following, so that Luffy’s stretched out, head in Zoro’s lap and his legs thrown over Sanji’s. A calloused hand makes its way through Luffy’s hair as Zoro recounts the night, breaking the silence.

“I… had a dream.” He begins, voice low and soft. “Wasn’t a good one.” A grimace but no elaboration. That’s okay – Sanji didn’t really expect Zoro too. “Shook me up a bit. Went in here to get a drink and found Luffy on the ground where we were. I don’t know how long he was there, but I think it had been awhile. When I came in he kind of … jumped? Like he didn’t expect me, which was odd, but I couldn’t really feel him either.”

Sanji was a smart man. He could connect the dots – either something had shaken Luffy and Zoro so bad that their observation haki wasn’t focused (Unlikely, considering they primarily used it in battle) or something more was going on…

He couldn’t remember if he had sensed them before entering the kitchen anyway.

Sanji hums and takes their cups away, gently moving Luffy legs first, as Zoro keeps talking.

“He wasn’t doing so good. I think he’s been up most of the night. Don’t know what woke him but… it couldn’t have been good.”

“A dream you think?”

“Maybe. You?”

“Had one too. You sleeping here?”

“Might as well. Sun rise is in an hour unless the weather wants to fuck with us.”

“Mmhm.” Sanji moves back to his old position, this time carrying a blanket. Zoro helps him stretch over the three of them, tucking it gently under their captain’s head.

It may be odd for all of them to be here at once, but nightmares and bad nights were nothing new to all of them. They were crew after all. Family. They helped each other. And truth be told, Zoro and Sanji didn’t always argue.

“Night, Shit Cook.”

“Night, Moss Face.”

Well. Almost.

(If Sanji had been any more awake and not thinking about being along and starving on a rock, perhaps he would have taken notice of the shift in the breeze, the slight lilt of the ship as their observation haki was suppressed under the guise of shaking nightmares. Perhaps he would have noticed the change in their course or the fog creeping in.

But he didn’t.

And that’s when it started.

Come to me, little pirates-)

-

Sanji woke to Nami shaking him awake. A heavenly sight, but an odd one, because he was usually the first up for meal prep.

“Nami-swan?” He asked, tiredly yawning. A part of him registered Luffy’s legs still across his, and the green head of hair his faced was smashed into. The moss-head must have leant over to use Sanji’s shoulder as a pillow while he slept, the bastard.

“Sanji you alright?”

“’Mm fine, Nami-dear.” He blinked the tiredness from his eyes, ready to focus on the wonderful light of his life. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing… you just slept past sunrise that’s all. Robin and Usopp made pancakes for everyone, but you’re going to have to make them for Luffy and Zoro and you. We aren’t skilled enough to keep up with Luffy’s appetite.”

Sanji’s eyes snapped open. He what?!

He took a look around, noting the table being cleaned up by a multitude of limbs and the faint smell of pancakes in the air. The sun was gently shining through the portholes, the brightness signifying it was well past the morning rush.

And Sanji had slept through it.

Hell, Luffy had slept through it if the weight on his lap was any indication.

“I’m sorry, you should have woken me up, I should have done that –“

“It’s okay Sanji. We figured if you weren’t up, and Luffy wasn’t going for our meals, then you three needed the rest… what happened?”

Sanji shrugs, getting up carefully and stretching. “I had a nightmare and woke up, came in here and found Zoro and Luffy, who apparently had the same thing. We drank the usual and had a bite to eat then fell asleep.”

No need to worry Nami about the lapse in haki. While they were in the process of teaching the crew armament and observation, they didn’t have to be concerned of what was going on with those in control of it.

Not yet at least.

Nami still looks concerned. Sanji brushes it off by waking Zoro with a kick to the head.

“Oi. Shithead. I’m making breakfast. You gonna get up or what?”

“Bastard, what’d you do that for?”

“You getting up or what?”

“Mmhm?” Luffy mumbles sitting up and narrowly missing the second foot that is flung at Zoro’s head, blocked with a sheathed Sandai Kitetsu. “Wassgoing on?”

“Breakfast, Luffy. You slept through it.” Nami levels him with a look before shaking her head at his panicked response.

“WHAT!? BREAKFAST? SANJI! FOOD!”

Luffy doesn’t miss this kick.

“Hold your horses shitty captain, it’ll be ready in five minutes.” Sanji relaxes his leg and turns to the kitchen. Least Luffy’s more energetic now. And by Zoro’s wheezing complaints, he’s less conscious of where he’s stepping too.

Just like normal.

(Flash of vibrant pink in the corner of his eye, a skeleton, a man with no legs in the corner of the room-)

Sanji turns and it’s just Chopper and Brook singing outside, Franky tinkering on deck viewed through the door Nami just walked out of.

It’s nothing, surely.

Right?

-

Sanji volunteers to take Usopp’s place for the first half of night watch. He’s not going to get any sleep anyway, so why not take the place of his crewmate and let him rest?

The crow’s nest is warm at night, though the outside sea is foggy and cold. Shadows dance across the deck in the soft moonlight and breeze, a calm unusual to the Grand Line.

It doesn’t help Sanji’s nerves.

He’s sitting on the window edge, cupping a mug of tea in his hands, blanket wrapped around him. Paranoia has been following him all day, despite the fact that he checked the food stores and they have enough to feed Luffy eight meals a day for two weeks. They are fine, and the sea is flooding with food.

His crew won’t starve.

So why does he feel like they might?

(Why does he feel like his former siblings are around every corner?)

Is he this shaken up by that nightmare last night?

Hehehehe~

What the fuck was that.

Sanji stands to his feet and looks out the window.

There’s nothing there, and nothing hiding in the shadows of the crows next.

Everything’s normal.

His observation haki – his observation haki seems fine.

Maybe he should have taken the chance to rest.

Maybe.

Sanji looks out the window, to the rising moon, and decides he can wake Zoro for his turn on watch.

Climbing down the crow’s nest and into the galley, he misses the ship rocking again, sharper this time. He misses the shadows crawling across the deck like mischievous devil children, with holes in their chests and limbs, and the fog that rolls across the deck once in a resounding breath.

Sanji turns his head once, but the view is silent and empy

He continues on, shakes Zoro non-too-gently awake, and collapses in his bed. Time to sleep…

Sanji never feels the devil sink into his skin

(but it doesn’t mean it hasn’t happened.)

He falls into a fitful rest, a smile haunting his lips.

(It won’t be there for long!)

-

Zoro has never been one to sleep.

Let’s rephrase that.

Zoro has never been one to sleep when his crew is in true danger. Since he has no problem falling to sleep, he’s sure that there’s no danger here, but he can’t help but be unsure.

The ship has been… off these past few days. Laughter chimes in his ear when the deck is empty, and shadows seem to be full of things he must protect against. Nothings ever there, but it keeps dragging him back to that first night.

When Luffy had been shaking in the kitchen, and Zoro hadn’t noticed him get up.

(The ero-cook’s observation haki is the best out of all of them, though he’s sure once Usopp gets his act together that will change, but he hadn’t noticed either. Luffy is either suppressing his presence (a skill of the conquering king, but damnit, Luffy, we’re your crew!) or somethings wrong.

Zoro hopes it’s the former)

The rest of the crew doesn’t seem to notice anything’s off, beyond the usual bout of nightmares. They don’t notice Zoro’s tenseness or Sanji’s wariness, or Luffy’s almost apathy to the world around him. The crew doestake note of the shadows slowly growing under all three of their eyes, and takes them off the watch rotation, but otherwise do not comment.

Nami probably knows something, as does Robin with her damn eyes, but that’s about it.

Hopefully it is nothing, and Zoro can actually sleep without worrying that his crew is –

(falling down down down, dead and dreamless, smiling gently at him – won’t you help Zoro? Why weren’t you there Zoro?)

In danger.

Ah. Well. Might as well sleep. He’s done his training for the day, Luffy joining him (odd – Luffy prefers his own kind of training to lifting weights), so now he can nap by the figurehead.

A nice… long... nap….

-

He awakes to darkness.

Did he sleep through the day again? No – this is something different.

Something skitters across the deck – Zoro reaches for his swords only to find empty air.

Wha-

This isn’t Sunny’s deck.

This isn’t his home. His crew’s home.

Where is his crew?

(Did they get lost?)

A voice drifts in the breeze, eerily similar to a young child cry.

Zo-ro, Zo-ro, Zo-ro, Zo-ro… Where were you Zoro?

There’s a pawprint in front of him, big and painful and his captain, Luffy, is inside oh hell

His crew is here now, and they are all dead because he wasn’t paying attention, god damnit, no – What kind of hell scape is this?

“Zoro.” The girls voice, high and reedy, is solid now. He turns his face to the left.

Kuina.

A bloody sword is held to her throat. Wado-

“We weren’t strong enough Zoro.” The blade digs in and –

“NO!”

Zoro wakes to red and wetness on his cheeks.

Kuina, no, his crew dead, Luffy –

Luffy’s sitting on his lap right in front him. He’s the red. The wetness on his face isn’t blood but the salty sea spray and (maybe) some tears, slipping down his eyes. He can’t tell.

He hopes Luffy can’t tell.

“Zoro? You okay?”

“Ye-yeah. I am.” I will be.

His captain sounds tired. (Zoro sounds tired.) His eyes are tired too. (So are Zoro’s. And the Shit Cook’s.)  Nightmares? (A reoccurring theme.)

Luffy trusts him, and knows him in a way that few don’t, so he accepts Zoro’s truth and settles back down. A rubbery hand slaps at Zoro’s face.

“Nami says there’s gonna be an island tomorrow but there’s also going to be a storm tonight so she doesn’t know if there is actually going to be an island. There’s no maps of it either, so Nami’s excited.”

Zoro raises an eyebrow and looks around deck. Huh. Usopp and Copper are already climbing the rigging to get ready to pull the sails down.  It’s a wonder why the witch hasn’t yelled at Zoro and Luffy to get their asses moving.

(Or maybe the crew noticed a little more than he thought.)

Speaking of the witch, she’s making her way toward them now. Zoro nudges Luffy out of the way and gets up –

Hehehe-

A shadow, heading straight toward Nami, that seems to be alive and moving and perhaps not entirely real.

It slips and slides until it rests under her feet and the breath is stuck in Zoro’s chest as Nami slips and –

(getting her sword for another midnight duel with Zoro, Kuina had slipped and fallen, blood scattering the steps from the crack in her head. Died, because she was a little too careless; died, for no reason at all.)

Catches herself on the railing.

Nami’s strong, always has been.

(Kuina was strong too.)

She’ll be alright. Why is Zoro panicking?

(Kuina is dead.)

“Zoro?” Luffy prompts already standing, clothes waving in the wind. Storm must be coming faster then… “You coming?”

“Yeah.” Zoro affirms and heaves himself up as the first lightning bolt cracks in the difference. “Be right there, Captain.”

He turns toward Nami, but Nami’s emerging from the galley and already barking orders

(She hadn’t gone down the steps at all.)

The sky is dark, and any shadow mixes in with the chaos of a Grand Line storm. Zoro gets to work, pushing doubt and little dead girls out of his mind.

-

The storm was brutal. Zoro, however, is almost thankful for how exhausted he feels after it. Perhaps he can sleep now.

But no.

Instead of reaching the island tomorrow like Nami had thought, the hurricane and the coup de burst they used to get over the tsunami level swells and the sea king sneaking under the waves, had gotten them within distance of the island.

So they’re anchoring tonight at any available shore so everyone can sleep.

Zoro steadies his stance and watches as the sea smooths and ripples into familiar shore patterns.

“Jungle island,” Nami deduces just by the air, standing to his left. Zoro could ask how she does it, but it’s a talent that’s far beyond anyone but her. “Pretty big too. I think there might be a mountain on the other side, but this area here is just low-level jungle. Humid and hot, with pretty beaches.”  

“A barbecue tomorrow then?” Robin inquires from Zoro’s right. When the hell did she get there?

“Hmph. Maybe. I don’t know what kind of wildlife we’ll find, but we should restock. Depends on what the captain wants. Hey- Where is Luffy?” Nami looks around, eyes narrowing in an odd mix of distrust, concern, and acceptance that her captain has already rocketed his way to the island.

She’s wrong in her suspicious for once. Zoro tosses a thumb behind him. “There.”

Beneath the main mast is a dog pile of Chopper, Usopp, and Luffy. Chopper in Heavy point and Usopp almost protectively sandwiching Luffy between them. Relaxed, soaked and uncaring, the trio sleeps.

Nami’s shoulders slump. “Of course. Well, we’ll be there in thirty minutes. They can sleep till th-”

SKKKRECHHHHK!

There’s a crunching noise beneath them. A rock, glistening and black, jutting from the water.

It had lost to the Sunny’s Adam’s Wood hull but by the sound, it was a close thing.

“What the hell?” Zoro mutters as the rest of the crew wakes or comes up to deck at the noise. “What kind of rock is that?” Can I cut it?

THUMP!

“No trying to cut strange rocks till morning!” The witch screeches, fist still raised from where it wacked his head. By now she had a sixth sense for when the crew was trying to do some dangerous stunt.

“Damn, sheesh, okay.” Zoro mutters, casting a glare at Sanji as he laughs.

Ignoring their squabbling, Franky steps up to the rail and looks over. “That is totally NOT super. Nami-sis, where’d this come from?”

The navigator purses her lips. “Don’t know, it wasn’t there two seconds ago. I was checking the currents – there was no evidence of rocks.” She’s frowning heavily before she starts barking orders. “Bring up all the sails and get out the oars. I want us going slow – this is probably just some weird Grand Line stuff, but I don’t want any more surprises.”

“Aye-aye,” The conscious members of the Straw-Hat Pirates chorus.  Brook goes to wake the sleeping members as the rest prep the oars. They are rarely used, since the engine or a coup de burst can get them through any slow patch of wind but… they are good for going slow and careful.

Luffy takes his place in front of Zoro, rubbing sleep for baggy eyes, and prepares to row. Nami’s at the forefront, watching for rocks while Franky mans the tiller.

Slowly, paddle by paddle, they make their way through the small bay.

Nami’s right, Zoro thinks looking over the railing, these rocks are rising out of nowhere.

His observation haki (now, not at its best form admittedly) can’t even predict them. They look like shadows from waves at first, peaceful and innocent below the surface, before erupting through the surface in a silent, sharp spike.

A particularly tall one almost took out Zoro’s other eye before he sliced it.

Which, good. He can cut whatever this strange rock is. Bad, because the rock started faintly glowing in specks across the remained of the rock, and pins and needles went down his spine.

He doesn’t know what to think.  

Everyone else thinks it’s pretty at least.

It’s well past midnight by the time they reach a place close enough to shore that they can weigh anchor.

“Franky,” Luffy speaks for the first time in a while, once all the navigating’s done. “Will the watch system work?”

“It should, captain.”

“Will it work.”

“Aye.”

“Then everyone sleeps.” Luffy looks out over his crew from his position on the main mast, and Zoro knows he sees how tired they all are. Wet, hungry, exhausted, and paranoid because of dumb rocks, no straw hat is fit to take watch. “We’ll look over the island in the morning.”

And suddenly, as everyone’s shoulders slump out of relief, Luffy’s seriousness wipes away. “Sanji, meat?”

“I’ll whip up a snack.” Sanji agrees, tearing off his gloves on his way to the kitchen. “It’ll be ready in a few, enough for everyone to get dry and everything.”

“Then I’m going to take a shower – Robin you coming?” Nami sighs

“Sure.”

And just like that, the crew disperses off the deck until it’s just Zoro, staring at the shimmering rocks in the moonlit water. Shadows play at the edge of his vision, but he can’t trust him.

Can’t trust any of his sense.

Hehehehe!

Chopper tugs at his leg, and oh, his haki must have decided to work because he hasn’t looked down yet. “I’m coming Chop.” He takes one last look out at the sea and follows the ball of fur inside to get changed.

When he comes up to the galley, Chopper is sitting next to Luffy, bandaging a scape he got from banging his head in the storm.

“Zoro!” The reindeer shouts, and uh oh that’s his scolding voice. What did Zoro do now?! “Where have you been? I need to check you over I want to make sure cutting that rock did nothing!”

“What do you mean, you’ve been with me the entire-“

Wait.

Had Chopper been with him? Out on deck?

Zoro can’t recall.

“I don’t care, sit down!” Chopper gives him the eyes, and dimly worried, Zoro acquiesces to his pleas.

It’s nothing, surely, he thinks accepting he drink from Sanji and belatedly (uncaringly) realizing this is nothing like him to be so nonchalant about a lack of skill.

It’s nothing at all.

Hehehehe!

(Kuina falls down Sunny’s steps eight times that night as Zoro sleeps, each time whisking Wado across a different Straw Hat’s throat.

(And they had all smiled.))

-

Ace has been talking to Luffy in his dreams lately.

It’s nothing new.

Nightmares are always like this.

(A brother there and a brother not, fire licking at his chest – why is it always fire that takes his big brothers? There are holes and Luffy is falling falling falling and there’s no one but him. It hurts more than all the poison in Impel down, this crushing loneliness and oh – when can he wake up?

Thank you for loving me-Brothers forever-SABO-Crybaby- flashes of his childhood in Ace’s voice, still so vivid to this day—)

What’s new is what Ace has been saying.

Luffy knows his brother- his brothers. They are cruel and tough and strong, or were at any rate, but they have never been to cut the ones they care about without reason. Ace would never tell Luffy that he’s worthless, or that he failed, or that he’s alone.

He wouldn’t.

So why is his dream Ace saying things like that? Why is he killing his crew one by one, dying himself, why are his nightmares so twisted and wrong?

Luffy can’t make sense of it.

He tries not to sleep too much, but he’s like Ace and Grandpa and his sleeping schedule is all messed up, so he can’t help it.

It’s been going on for a while now, more than a week, and it hasn’t eased up, sleeplessness painting dark marks beneath his eyes.

(It’s gotten worse)

But there’s an island ahead, one with adventure, and it’s all that Luffy needs if only these dumb rocks would stop trying to trap their ship.

Shitty rocks.

It’s quiet on deck as the rest of the crew retires to bed. Luffy’s soaked from crashing waves, clothes sticking to his damp skin, and he knows he should change and go to bed.

But…

The shadows look familiar in certain lights.

And Luffy misses his big brother.

A cloud shields the world for the moon for a long moment, stirring Luffy out of his daze. He shakes himself, hand falling from his chest and goes inside.

He doesn’t notice the sea fading from sight or the fog rolling onto the deck – permanent, in a final kind of way this time. The water shifts into something darker and the island trees, tall and innocent, shift in place.

Luffy sleeps, curled next to Zoro, and doesn’t notice the island watching him.

-

Luffy wakes alone.

He does not panic.

He has woken alone too many times for this to be a cause of panic.

(Makino worked late and early, Garp rarely stayed, Ace ignored him then loved him then left for the seas, three years spent in the jungle, then one at sea, then Ace left for good and Luffy spent two years (alone) on Ruskuina.

Loneliness cuts deep, but it is a hurt that Luffy knows like he knows freedom.)

This was not where he fell asleep.

Luffy is sitting on soft, white sand on a barren beach. Before him stretches the sea, dark and gloomy, but he can’t see the horizon rising above it. The trees behind him are of the familiar kind – the kind he grew up with on the islands of Goa. Jungle bark and underbrush, thick and threatening unless you know its secrets. They are dark, almost black, like the lush green that should make them up isn’t there.

Luffy looks up, placing a hand on his hat, and doesn’t see the sky.

Wait.

His hat.

It’s not there.

Luffy lurches to his feet, panicking now.

“Hat! Where’s hat! Shit, where is it?!” He can’t see it in the fog that keeps drifting in and dragging like at his clothes like drowning me. “Dumb island, give me my hat back!”

Because, of course, it must be the island which took it. No one else is there, right?

The fog seems to pause and pull away. There’s a path, leading into the forest.

Luffy follows instinct and walks into the dark path.

(His haki, cut and lost, screams at him. It goes unheard.)

The forest swallows him and doesn’t look back.

(A child laughs in the forest.)

Hehehehe!

-

Sanji wakes to the sound of seagulls and the cold press of rock beneath his back. He’s up in a second, praying this is all a terrible dream, and praying he hasn’t woken up not on the ship.

(He’s had worse dreams as of late.)

Blue eyes blink open as a leg raises threateningly. The world around him is dark and covered in a fog. He’s on a raised, rock platform, jutting from the cliff side that rises far above him. Water, black and crashing, is on every side.

The sight is a familiar, demonized version of one of the most terrifying memories of his past.

The sea-damned Rock.

Damnit!

Sanji places his foot down once he is sure that there is no threat that he can sense or see. Something crunches and slides underfoot, and when he looks down, all he sees is gleaming white.

Bones.

A human fucking skeleton.

That hadn’t been there before, had it?

Had it?

He can’t tell.

The world is growing fuzzy as the waves crash higher and the cliff side looms above him.

Think rationally, damnnit. Don’t panic. You are here. Where do you go from here?

Up.

Something slithers over his foot. When Sanji looks, whatever it is has far too many legs and is some sort of a fucking bug.

Fuck.

He screams, not that he’ll ever admit it, wishes for a cigarette, and starts kicking himself into the air. He half expects to start falling with how weird this island is and how weird the past week has been but he gets up fine.

Easier than normal even.

He doesn’t like it.

At the top Sanji finds himself facing a dark jungle and finally goes to light that cigarette. He breathes in the smoke, familiar as a cooking fire, and breathes out a sigh of relief.

He’s alive. He’s off that damn rock. It was only a coincidence that’s all.

Metal slams over his face.

“HGHK-” He chokes as the cigarette falls from his hands. He scrambles at his face as the mask locks over it, shutting him in into a world without food or freedom or friends. It encases his head from front to back, a mimic of that helmet from his youth, and it sends such a spike of fear through Sanji that he steps back.

The mask had flung from the forest after all.

He takes another step back, panic blinding him still.

Another.

Another.

And Sanji is falling down the cliffside where he just jumped up. This time, however, he’s so weak that he can’t kick his legs out, paralyzed by fear as he is.

He falls and falls and falls and falls and –

Crack.

Darkness.

Hehehehe!

-

Zoro wakes up in a new location and shrugs. It’s nothing that hasn’t happened before, but it is odd that the world would change while a crewmate was sleeping next to him. Fate tends to be nice enough to let him nap with the crew, and he vaguely recalls Luffy shoving him aside to curl up in his hammock with him.

(It sometimes stopped the bad dreams for both of them.)

He’s at the top of some mountain, a cave behind him and a jungle, dark and looming, is a good ways below the cliff he’s standing at. The view, despite the height, is pretty shitty due to all the damn fog and no visible sky (why isn’t the sky there?) so Zoro doesn’t spend to long looking at it.

Instead, he looks at the only way down.

The cliffside.

“Huh.” He thinks aloud and reaches for Shusui and Kitetsu. They sink easily (with his strength at least) into the ground and don’t have a lot of give. Should work well enough.

Zoro walks over to the edge and hops down, sticking his blades into the wall before he can drop more than ten feet.

They stick.

Perfect.

Kitetsu’s oddly not whining about being used for something other than bloodshed, which normally would spark alarm bells in Zoro’s head.

Instead, there is nothing but the rushing of wind in his ears as he uses his swords like picks to make his way down the mountain.

It is steady going and good training for his arms. The wind blows harsh making it harder for his grip to stay tight, but he manages and enjoys the challenge.

Belatedly, he wonders where the rest of the crew wound up.

(This isn’t a Kuma situation, is it?)

He shudders, phantom pricks of pain running up and down his body.

(His captain had been hurt worse than that and got up running. Zoro has to get stronger so he can be worthy of the Pirate King. If not, Zoro will turn the promise he made Luffy swear on himself and stab himself through. It would only be right after all.

Zoro can’t lose.)

No, can’t be. The crew must be somewhere on this island, not spread out to the winds again. They have to be.

The wind whistles into his ear, louder and shriller this time. Zoro’s shaken from his thoughts. Focus.

“Zoro!”

He loosens his grip in shock and slips before catching himself. Shit- who was that?

“Zoro! Over here!” He turns his head to his right.

Standing there, on a small out cropping and hugging the cliff side for dear life is Nami.

“Nami!” He calls, smile breaking over his face as the oppressive loneliness to the island that he hadn’t noticed before breaks. “You okay?”

“yeah! Just come and get me! I’ve been stuck up here for the past hour!” She calls back. “And if you don’t I’ll add twenty hundred percent to your debt!”

“Dumb witch.” Zoro mutters but makes his way over anyway.  He pauses next to the outcropping that she’s at and gestures to his back with a nod of his head. “Hop on.”

Nami nods and carefully climbs onto his back. The added weight is difficult, but nothing he can’t handle.

In the back of his mind, he remembers the story Chopper told him of how Luffy must have reached the top of drum.

Zoro can handle this, if only to improve his strength.

Nami curls in tight, though her body doesn’t quite fit right against his. She’s constantly shifting as he makes his way down, hair tickling him and knees digging into his side.

“Could you quit it?” Zoro snarks after another movement.

“Sure, of course I’ll sto-” Nami’s sarcasm is cut off as she slips. “ZORO!” she screeches, still hanging on just by the arms linked around his stomach.

Zoro snarls, letting go of one sword to grab on to her. “Shit!”

It does nothing. Nami looks at him with wide panic in her eyes as she slips further down and further down in the matter of seconds. “Zoro…” She trails off as her grip finally weakens.

“NAMI!!” Zoro screeches reaching out a hand to her. Her finger tips brush his and that’s the last touch he gets with her.

He could have slipped down, he quick enough with his swords to do so but his limbs are locked. He can’t move, and his hand is glued to the hilt of his one katana.

Nami falls

and falls

and falls

until she’s nothing but a smear on the ground below. He should be too high to see the impact but it rushes through Zoro’s mind with sudden clarity.

He sees it all – all the gruesome details and twisted limbs.

Nami falls, just like Kuina did, and Zoro wonders how many more people he will let fall as the darkness sinks in around him.

He stays, hanging on the cliff, for hours.

Too weak. Everyone falls, everyone dies, meaninglessly because of you.

What are you going to tell the rest of the crew?

The fog grows thicker.

Hehehehehe!

-

The forest, Luffy finds, is a lot like Goa’s. Tall and winding and full of things hiding in the underbrush that are either tasty, delicious, or both. Of course, he hasn’t managed to catch anything yet, only glimpses of the rustling bushes, but he’s sure he’ll find meat soon enough.

As he passes by a familiar path and tree and trap, however, something stops in his heart.

There’s a shattered telescope by the roots of a large tree, the kind Luffy wanted when he was a kid. Drops of red splotch the edges and lead up the hardened trunk of the tree.

At the top is a tree house fashioned like a boat, unused and abandon. A flag waves at the top, and Luffy knows that this forest isn’t a lot like Goa’s –

It is Goa’s.

He rockets to the top of the tree house, and ducks in the door.

(Maybe his hat is here?)

Hehehe!

Luffy whips around and the laugh stops.

Wha-

“Luffy.” He turns his back to the voice that shouldn’t be there, it shouldn’t it shouldn’t. “Stop jumping at shadows, crybaby.”

Ace smiles, blood dripping down his chin, and Luffy sighs.

It’s a dream.

(Ace is dead, despite the fact that he’s standing here before him, hole through his chest and just as bloody and smiling and peaceful as the day he died.

Luffy doesn’t dwell on the past much, and he certainly doesn’t travel back to it.

Ace is dead.

This is a dream.

(He wants it to be real.))

“Ace,” Luffy rasps, not flinching as the corpse steps toward him. “Have you seen my hat?”

“No. You should take better care of your things, Lu. C’mon, I’ll help you look.” Ace stumbles out the door and down the ladder.

Luffy watches the blood drip drip drip after him, and follows Ace down.

(Just a dream.

His brother is dead.)

Hehehe!

“WHO’S THERE!?” Luffy yells when he hears the voice again. It stops, just as suddenly as it began.

The forest is silent.

What’s going on? Where’s my crew?

He hopes they aren’t dealing with this too.

“LUFFY!” Ace shouts, voice sounding wet. “YOU COMING?”

“YEAH!” Luffy says and takes one last look at the tree house before jumping down.

-

“The Drifting Fog Peninsula – known for the fact that is not a peninsula at all but an Island of rock and mountain. Those who see the fog should know best to turn back – to be caught in it is to be caught in a trap, and not one of a dumb beast. The island itself is a predator, and does not like its prey easy to dupe, or so the legend says. There’s only one, from the journals of a log forgotten traveler, J.B. This is the Grand Line however, and I doubt there’s much exaggeration, Nami.”

“Right. We can tell the boys tomorrow – I didn’t see any fog, so we are probably good for now. That storm was terrible! I need sleep and not screaming.”

“Fufufu! Aye!”

-

It’s not Ace at the bottom. Or at least, not the Ace Luffy knew last.

It is Ace as a child, angry and mean.

Ace is dead, and this is a dream.

“C’mon crybaby, let’s go find your hat.” Ace says, dashing away into the forest, pipe not clanking against any tree or rock.

Its dark. Luffy wonders how this Dream Ace can see where he’s going.

(At least he’s not being mean or saying things that Ace wouldn’t.)

“Ace! Wait up!” Luffy calls and runs after him, uncaring of the branches that whack at him or trip in his path. This jungle is like Goa if not for the fact that Luffy can’t easily dash through it.

Ace runs and runs and runs. It’s like Luffy is seven again, and chasing after his big brothers who are so much stronger than him. This time, however, his big brother doesn’t wait for him to catch up, and disappears into the thickening fog.

“Ace?” Luffy halts and calls hesitantly.

No answer.

He lost him.

(Again.)

Oh well. He still has to find hat – and this isn’t really Ace that he’s chasing, only a vision from his nightmares that he can’t seem to have a connection to.

(It’s an odd dream. Usually Luffy tries to hug Ace, or be with him, or talk to him more, but he doesn’t trust this Ace.

He’s never known an Ace was a Dream Ace before.)

“Luffy?” That’s not Ace’s voice that’s –

“USOPP!”

He lunges at his friend, wrapping limbs around him on instinct. Strong arms catch him, holding him tight.

“Luffy!” Usopp says again, smiling bright. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

He wonders when he woke up, because this Usopp is alive and solid before him. Usopp lets Luffy down, and starts to drag him deeper into the forest. “C’mon, everyone’s waiting. I swear you’re just as bad as Zoro, the beach is this way. Everyone’s waiting y’know.”

“Yeah?” Luffy stumbles as Usopp’s grip tightens around his wrist, urging him to keep up.

Odd, how Usopp isn’t screaming about the forest. He’s either really worried or he’s even more super than before, Luffy muses.

(He hopes it the latter. He doesn’t like it when his crew is worried)

“The ships okay, and the logue pose is set, we want to get out of here before we lose it or something. You got it, Luffy?” Usopp questions him, pausing in the forest trail. Weird, how the forest seems so much easier to navigate. “Why were you sleeping there in the middle of the forest anyway? Don’t you know-”

Blood blooms in the center of Usopp’s chest, from where he stands in front of Luffy. His words cut off as he stumbles once, twice, before falling into Luffy’s arms.

“Lu-luffy?” Usopp wheezes before growing silent.

Growing cold.

Dead.

(It’s too sudden, the warmth leaving to quickly and a projectile nowhere to be seen. There’s no enemy on this island, no one who would attack Usopp and leave Luffy alone. Luffy doesn’t care about any off the oddities as he sits there with his beloved friends’ body in his arms.

He failed. Again.

He’s too weak.

And now, in the forest, he’s alone again.)

-

Sanji wakes again to cloudy darkness, a pattern forming, but this time he can’t open his jaw or see much past the bars settling over his vision.

The mask.

Fuck.

What the hell, why the hell, is he is this damn thing again? Why why why why? Luffy, his crew, freed him from this, he’s free to chase his dreams and find the All Blue –

So why is he in this damn nightmare scenario? Who put this on his face?

What happened before this?

The rock, the rock, the bugs – fuck the bugs – leaping upward and darkness.

Right.

Take two.

Sanji gets up and touches the mask around his face. It’s heavy, heavier than he ever remembered it being, and weighs upon his shoulders like the weight of the world.

This should be nothing – Sanji is strong, stronger than any mask.

He can’t even jump more than ten feet with it on. Every time his head drags him back down to the ground, slamming him into the ground. He tries countless times, each time feeling his energy wane more and more.

Escape is so close, yet he’s still trapped on this damn rock.

Use your head, Sanji.

He takes a breath, again wishing for a cigarette, and steps back and falling until he is sitting down. The world seems to go a little hazy, a little blurry, and then he’s back.

Feeling so much weaker than before. Did he black out?

No – he hadn’t.

Had he?

Use. Your. Head.

Right.

Sanji looks down, and all sense flies out the window. His hands are practically skeletal in appearance, thin and drawn with barely any muscle. They are trembling as he looks, barely able to hold their curled shape.

What – what happened?

The last time he had seen this was with his Captain, who had starved waiting for his cook to come back. Then had been lost sailors arriving at the Baratie, and the first time…

The first time had been Sanji himself, and Zeff, standing on that rock.

He’s the rock again – again, oh shit, how the hell did he get here, fuck, fuck fuck fuck fuck-

His hand brushes something as he pushes it against the ground, trying to leverage his weakened body up.

It’s not a bug this time, Sanji notes, as he looks over at the item.

No, it’s not even close.

Its Robin, peacefully lying there as if nothing has happened. But –

She’s as skeletal as Sanj,i even as her hand lies outstretched to him. Her open eyes are glassy and her lips parched and cracked.

Her chest is still. She’s not breathing, and there are no wounds on her body.

Robin had starved to death on the same rock as him, probably begging him for food or a way out, and he didn’t even feed her.

Sanji didn’t feed her.

Terror seeps in deep as his heart painfully stops in his just. He didn’t feed her, oh god.

He didn’t feed his crew.

Are the rest of them the same? Starving?

Facing Sanji’s worst nightmare?

-

Zoro’s at the bottom of the cliff and he can’t find Nami’s body. Can’t even bring her to sunny to give her a proper pirate funeral.

What a failure, Zoro, you’re pathetic, Kuina’s voice rings in his ears. Wado hangs limply in his grasp.

Zoro doesn’t fear much. He never flinches, even at certain death (Take my head instead!) and monstrous beings and people hold no charge against him.

But this…

This failure to protect his crew, his dream, his family… To let them die because of something so simple and meaningless as slipping out of his grasp…

It’s like lead is in his stomach. Despair trembles through his veins.

Nami… oh god, Nami –

(Kuina was like an annoying older sister to Zoro. Nami is like her annoying counterpart, ragging on about his debt and how stupid he is but unlike Kuina she has always told Zoro that she thought he was a monster, and never thought of how much weaker she might become. She was family.)

She’s dead.

(Zoro knows death. A warrior’s death is something to be valued – dying in battle, or peacefully after a long life of victory and fall to someone greater than yourself. To die in the path of a dream. This is the death that Zoro can accept.

To die for nothing, for no reason other than accident – Zoro feels his chest tighten at the reality of it.

A thousand hells would be better.)

And he can’t even find her body.

He wants to feel denial. He wants to feel rage, something burning, something how he usually is.

All Zoro can feel is cold.

(A failure. He couldn’t protect her, couldn’t protect her from this horrible, horrible fate. A failure.)

He needs to find Luffy and everyone else so they can help him find her.

He starts walking, wandering the bottom of the cliff (as if some part of him believes he can find her body that way.) Time seems to wax and wane on this island – the featureless sky shifting from bright to dark in minutes, even seconds, as if its day and night all at once.

How long has he walked?

“Yo-ho-ho-h, yo-ho-ho-ho, Yo-ho-ho-h, yo-ho-ho-ho~”

“Brook?” Zoro echoes out at the sudden voice.

Bink’s Sake. He’ll know that tune anywhere. It’s coming from his right but…

That’s not the usual solo. That has piano in it – too many voices for one, single skeleton.

What’s going on?

He follows the song, for once not getting lost as he is prone to do. The voices grow louder in song, followed with suspicious thudding sounds. Zoro finds the coldness in him waning as concern grows. He starts running.

“Brook?” he calls again, waiting for the returning call, the breaking of song as the skeleton greets his beloved crew.

He doesn’t answer.

Zoro’s heart beats faster, his breath constricting in his throat.

Zoro comes upon a small clearing. There’s a small pond in the middle, deep with semi clear waters. Somethings in it, but he can’t tell yet.

The music’s ringing loudly now, but it’s only Brook’s voice now.

He sounds like he’s crying.

There’s a knock against his foot, and the music shuts off, leaving an eerie silence. A look down, and it was not Brook that was singing but a tone dial.

Brook’s tone dial, the one he was going to give to Laboon, the one of the Rumbar pirate’s last living song.

He never lets that out of his sight. Which means…

Cold washes over Zoro once again, like a beast digging into his heart. He steps closer to the pond, and peers in.

Brook, dead in the only way they knew for sure he could die.

Drowned.

Zoro collapses to his knees, and mourns for two of his family.

-

Usopp is left on the forest floor once Luffy struggles past the barrier in his mind (the one that screams just like Ace, all alone, you failed, you failed you failed, your alone, your weak, such a bad captain-) because Usopp had said the others were waiting for him.

What if something bad happened to them too? What if what if what if?

Luffy sprints through the trees and trips over metal, landing face first in the dirt if not for a quick arm.

He knows that clang. He wishes he didn’t, because this time there was no SUPER! shout to accompany it.

It’s Franky, curled into a ball, with his fleshy back bloody and pierced. In the center of his arms is Chopper, lifeless and limp and bloody.

Both of them aren’t breathing. Both of them are dead, no matter how hard Luffy tries to sense their force with his haki.

(Franky, it seems, had tried to protect the already wounded Chopper with his body. He had failed. Had whoever killed Usopp killed them too?)

“Franky?” Luffy croaks, still hoping he wasn’t to late. “Franky? Chopper?”

Denial shatters away like glass when there’s still no response.

His crew is dead.

Who knows who might else be?

“NAMI!? ROBIN!?” Luffy jumps up, looking around. Please not be there, please not be-

There. They are there. With Brook next to them, all dead and Sanji lying slumped next to him and Zoro… and Zoro lying right there. His swords run through him.

A familiar vivre card is burning away in his head. Sabo’s card.

His big brother is dying.

It burns away entirely.

His big brother is gone.

He has no one now.

Luffy’s alone, for good this time.

SNAP.

-

It has been days, Sanji thinks at least, since he found Robin’s body. And the others, a few days later, scattered around the rock. His memory as to how he got here, how his crew starved is hazy, but one fact remains crystal clear.

He let his crew starve to death, and is now starving himself, trapped in a mask.

Something he swore he would never let happen again.

How, he would ask, if he could get past the lead in his veins, how.

But he can’t, except sit there in numb terror as voices laugh in his head and shadows dance before him.

Taunting him, In that dizzying way of theirs.

It’s just like the rock, when every other day a mirage would appear on the water, tricking them into thinking some rescue was upon them.

This time, it was a mirage of his former family, or his friends at times, whispering and laughing at him and with him when he managed a crazed snicker.

(His chest felt tight and his ears were ringing. Is this what it was like to die?)

It was only when Zeff appeared, stretching out a hand to him, inviting him to stand up and get off the damn rock and join his crew did Sanji know he had finally lost it.

He reached out a hand anyway and –

SNAP.

The world flickered, for one, crystalline moment, and Sanji could see again.

That’s not Zeff.

The mirage came back but it was too late.

Sanji knew.

-

Zoro had dragged Brook out of the pond and laid his song in his skull. He would get Luffy, and ask Luffy what they should do about the tone dial – should they leave it with the last of the Rumbar pirates, or bring it to the whale it was destined for.

Perhaps both, and bury Brook at the sea of Reverse Mountain

He stumbles along, after carefully laying Brook down, and goes to keep searching. Each sight he finds is another horrible mockery of his crew, a death they didn’t deserve. He wants to stop and help them, but it’s like a child is tugging him along, insistent and stubborn, leaving him no choice but to follow the shadows further into the woods.

Franky dismantled. Robin collapsed. Usopp shot, Chopper with him. The shit cook dead with a cigarette still burning in his mouth.

Tears fall down Zoro’s cheeks and he’s trembling, eyes wide and horrified. His crew is dead.

(Where’s Luffy?)

(Behind you, hehehe!)

Zoro whips around at the invisible force in his head. Stumbling toward him is Luffy, looking lost and confused and with blood pouring from the wound in his chest.

“Zo..ro” His captain rasps, reaching out to him before stumbling.

Zoro catches him, watching numbly as his captaiin’s light fades from his eyes. His hat is torn and his chest slowly stops moving up and down.

Shadows sink their claws into Zoro’s body as he stands there holding his captains’ body – the man he vowed to protect, to live for, die for, give his dream for.

Suddenly, how far they have come, more than half way across the world in the most dangerous sea, doesn’t seem so far anymore.

(His captain is resting against him that first night in the dinghy, the first solid presence in a long while. He’s smaller than Zoro, but so much stronger, and the hat he wears on his head seems like a crown made of sun. Something settles in Zoro’s chest as the confidence that he will become the greatest swordsman in the world shifts into not quiet but not loud knowledge.

He will be the greatest swordsman, and Luffy will be king. Simple.)

Luffy has died before becoming king. The future King of the pirates is dead and so is his entire crew.

Zoro laws Luffy’s body on the ground and closes Luffy’s eyes with a gentle hand. There’s no smile on his face as Zoro thought there would be when this day finally happened. Just anguish.

Wado finds his way into his hand.

If you step in the way of my dream, Ill run you through with my own swords!

Luffy is dead (someone more than his own pride) and can’t fulfill his promise.

King or Dead. Guess they were dead.

Perhaps Zoro shall fulfill Luffy’s promise to him instead.

Hehehe!

Come on Zoro, Kuina’s voice lulls in his ear, join me at the top of the world.

He unsheathes Wado and –

SNAP.

Luffy fades away and it isn’t Zoro’s hand holding Wado but a shadowy one.

He doesn’t give the shadows a chance to return as the numb terror that has been so uncharacteristic finally flees from his veins. He can see clearly now, observation Haki back for just a moment, and the world makes sense again.

Zoro knows the truth.

And that was Luffy’s, living Luffy who would be the Second Pirate King, Conquerors Haki.

Zoro slashes with Wado Ichimonji and runs for the shores.  

-

The world shutters, much in the same way it did when his big brother died, but Luffy pays it no heed. He doesn’t open his eyes as he falls to ground and lets his haki pour forth. Rayleigh had trained it, drilled it into him so he had nothing but perfect control, but Luffy has never reacted to rage or sadness with anything but self-destruction.

(Before, when his crew disappeared, he had smashed his head into the ground. When his brother died, he destroyed a quarter of the island and reopened half his wounds. People scolded him, but how could he explain that he was nothing without his beloved crew? His family? His brother?)

And how could he react to all of his crew being lost, his last brother dying, with anything but soul crushing terror and rage?

Luffy is alone now. The world is bleak and cold as he opens his eyes. Count what you still have Jimbe said, and Luffy still hopefully has Jimbe, if he too isn’t gone somewhere else in the world.

Around him is a crater, his crew’s bodies suspiciously untouched by the force of his conquering will.

His will feels broken now, out of reach.

Ace sits before him, looking like the day he set out. Young, smiling, ready to brave the world.

He doesn’t say anything, and neither does Luffy. Ace falls eventually, now old again, into his arms, and Luffy feels terror seep into his veins. The body is gone in the next minute, as if it was never really there, but the blood coating his hands tells another story. Its just like Marineford

The world is black. Dark. Luffy is alone on this island with no family or friends. He doubts whatever is hunting down his crew spared Sunny.

He can’t feel anything any more. Just horror, sinking deep. As if something is sapping his soul, his rage, his anger, his fury at his family is being stolen, leaving nothing but the loneliness.

(Luffy has always been alone. Been left to shake in the dark while grandpas and idols and big brothers were at sea (or dead.) It shakes him, that nothing is perhaps real and there’s no one to love and cherish and treasure. It shakes him in a way he can’t understand, leaves him feeling unsteady and uncertain. He’s terrified of it.)

No shadows dance before his eyes and no voice sing out and laugh in his ear. All there is is the crushing void of being alone – it hurts, far more than Luffy thought it would.

He’s collapsed on the ground now, completely boneless, eyes wide and unseeing. His hat is still nowhere to be seen as his clothes still feel sticky with blood.

Luffy doesn’t want this.

(He wants to think there’s a way and if not I’ll make one but something is stopping that train of thought in his head like a sea stone wall. He’s powerless.)

He wants this nightmare to end.

Perhaps if he closes his eyes…

The world fades, little by little.

Hehehehe!

Luffy’s eyes snap open. He’s not alone in this place after all.

Someone else is on this island, and he’s going to stop them, for what they did to his crew. His family.

Then… then he can sleep.

For now, however, Luffy will fight.

(the shadows grasp at him as he runs but there will be time for burial and mourning later. This island, Luffy is sure, will not be their final resting place. Only the sea can have that that honor.

The shadows drag him back, but he will not stop – he will never stop.

Not when his nakama need him.)

-

Flames erupt, turning the world around Sanji hazy. The weight on his head, the heavy metal mask, falls away and when he looks down his limbs are fuzzy, as if their form isn’t truly there. It is though – Sanji knows this illusion of starvation is nothing more than that.

An illusion, designed to turn him insane on this hellish island. Sanji won’t stand for it anymore.

His friends’ bodies are still there, next to him, nearly bone now.

(Impossible, his mind says, knowledge telling him that humans don’t become bone that quickly and of coursethis is some hellish nightmare.)

Sanji ignores them and pushes against the shadows lapping at his legs.

He needs to do something, get to his friends, and the first step to that is to get free and to get off this damnrock.

Feed your friends, something says to him, voice a copy of his own, but you failed.

It’s trying to lure him back in.

“NO!” Sanji yells aloud, flames bursting around him. A cook isn’t afraid of fire but shadows should be – and these ones aren’t, still latching on to him.

Whatever.

He sinks ever so slightly into the ground, creating a crater with the force of his power, and leaps up. He makes it half way up the cliff before he needs to sky jump, and a third before the shadow things latch on to him.

(They are starting to form a shape now that they don’t have a nightmare to feed off of. Some are his ex-siblings, some are his starving friends, some are even Zeff but most are twisted, inhuman things, which act like every limb on their body isn’t theirs but they are moving them anyway.)

Sanji snarls at him and the traitorous thoughts they try to put in his brain and reaches the top of the cliff. This time, when the mask flies at him, Sanji is read. With a fiery foot the mask is kicked into the ground, smoldering and dented.

“Heh,” he says, talking just to hear his own voice again (to see if he was real), and kicks it again. The shadow things are hanging back now.

He’s sure they are thinking up a new strategy to get to him, but that won’t work anymore.

He knows their game – and he knows what he wants to win.

“Where. Are. My. Friends.” He growls out to the shadows, not expecting a response.

And he doesn’t get one – at least not verbally. When he finishes his snarl, the things melt and fly away into the darker forest like wisps.

Pieces of a puzzle he never knew existed are falling into place. Sanji finally finds a cigarette and lights it, taking a drab and billowing smoke into the air.

There’s no sky, he realizes. And no rock behind him at the bottom of the cliff either.

He takes another drag. And the shadows on the ship… the ones haunting him… were they the cause of his nightmares? The ones sinking into him and dragging his will and lifeforce out of him?

Which means…

Mosshead. Luffy.

Shit.

Sanji runs and doesn’t look back.

-

Zoro has been sprinting for a while now, and the shadows are still chasing him. Luffy is out there somewhere, alive, and so is Nami and Brook and everyone else.

These shadows, shifting and shapeless all at once with limbs that don’t belong to him, are just another barrier he needs to cut before he can return to his crew.

Zoro has one eye, but that doesn’t mean his vision is impaired. To be in a fight, to be a swordsman, to be a pirate means to always know more than what is there.

Observation haki just puts a word to it.

Except… his fucking haki isn’t there. And he can’t tell what he needs to cut yet.

Damnit.

Is this what had been going on in on the ship? Had the shadows been reaching out from this island so much that they caused his nightmares?

What is going on here?

When Luffy had let loose that conquerors haki, the world had been cleared for a second.

Assume nothing is real.

Any obstacle he could cut down.

All he needs is Luffy and his haki to cut off the head and find the real culprit of this hell hole.

Damn island! Damn it all! Bringing up memories of Kuina, of Marineford, of whatever the shite cook saw, of dead crew left and right – shit, if this is its tactics, then what is Sanji facing? What’s Luffy facing?

(Sanji’s hand shakes when one of the crew can’t eat and he hates wearing anything metal on his face. Nami had told them all about Whole Cake, about how his ex-siblings and ex-father were assholes, and how he used Sanji’s true family as leverage. Food doesn’t go to waste on Sunny, and the crew isn’t trapped or ignored. Zoro doesn’t want to imagine what it would be like to Sanji if those things did happen.)

(I’d rather be hurt than alone, Zoro, Luffy had told him once, when Luffy was in that post battle fever and had pushed himself too far. Zoro doesn’t think Luffy knows that he told Zoro, but it doesn’t stop Zoro from thinking of the two years where Luffy had thought he had lost it all – and was alone, no matter the reality.)

Zoro needs to get to his captain now.

A shadow swipes at his feet. Zoro jumps, sweeping out Kitetsu in an easy motion. It cuts the shadow, which had the vague appearance of Yosaku, and splits into two shadowy Kuina’s.

Damnit.

Where’s the shore in this place?

Zoro’s so far preoccupied with looking for the moon (moon controls the tides, therefore, follow the moon and you will find water) which isn’t there that he doesn’t notice the hat drifting in front of him, being chased by some other shadow.

Until that hat smacks him in the face that is.

It’s familiar, soft despite its straw material, and with a vibrant, old red ribbon crossed around it.

Luffy’s? Zoro pulls the hat away from his face with a questioning, concerned look. He’s about to examine it further when –

The hat disappears from his hands into some child’s before him. The child is small, freckled, and angry, staring up at him with silvered, unseeing eyes. He’s never seen him before, but there’s something in the shape of the nose and the curl of the hair that reminds Zoro of someone long ago.

He doesn’t know who that is though.

“Hey!” Zoro says to the stranger, reaching for the hat. “Give that back! That’s my captain’s!”

“Yeah?” The child snarls, vitriol practically dripping from his mouth. “It’s my brothers – your shitty captain ain’t ever getting it back.”

Brother?

The child turns and dashes away, leading the swordsman into the forest and anyway from where he thought the water was. Shit, Zoro thinks as he loses the kid, where the hell did he go?

He takes a right (or so he assumes) and then a left at the familiar big tree, and then another right at the big tree – is this tree moving?

Whatever.

The forest is watching him, mocking him, but there’s no child around him. His haki clears in spurts and burst, giving him clarity to see the truths of shadows past shadowy captains and Kuinas.

Zoro slashes them all and pauses in a small clearing, still looking for the brat.

The worlds growing dark again, not that it had gotten that much lighter. The shadows are twisting more and more, staying just outside the clearing, watching him.

Zoro tightens his grip on his sword as he looks out at the shadows. There’s something coming.  

No. Someone.

Red flies out of the bushes and barrels into Zoro, knocking him into the dirt and leaving him disoriented.

But there will never be a day he doesn’t recognize that sloping scar.

“Luffy?!”

-

Luffy feels like he can’t breathe, like his skin is buzzing with a thousand tiny needles under it. His despair and rage had turned into terror that was dragging at his heart making it sink low low low low low and beat so fast he was worried Chopper would yell at him for it.

(Except Chopper was dead now, wasn’t he?)

He didn’t know where he was going, only that he needed to lash out. He felt small, in the way he never did except when he was alone and there was a knife digging into his chest and twisting and twisting and twisting—

Luffy stumbles, breath catching in his throat, and barrels through the bushes. Tears from his panic threaten to fall but he won’t let them he won’t—

He crashes into something as his vision was going blurry, as oxygen refuses to enter his lungs.

But…

The world, previously blurry, zeroes in on a familiar, green shape.

“Zo..ro?” He chokes out, air still not entering his lungs as he looks towards his swordsman.

Breathing. Alive, with no blood or anything, just red tear tracks falling from his one eye.

“ZORO!” He shouts and sobs again, lunging at his first mate whose still lying on the ground, wrapping arms and legs alike around him. “ZORO!” He doesn’t know any other word.

Zoro is the same. “Luffy, LUFFY!” Zoro chokes out just as Luffy did, wrapping arms tightly around his captain. “You’re alive,” And Luffy’s not imaging the wet spot on his shoulder.

“You too, you’re alive, I thought you were dead, Zoro, Zoro!” Luffy clings tighter.

The shadows around his vision seem to bleed away, the longer he clings to his first mate. His chest loosens and he can breathe and he’s no longer alone.

And if Zoro’s alive… that means…

“Zoro.” It must be the thousandth time Luffy’s said it, but he still repeats it as he pulls away just enough to see Zoro’s face. “What’s going on? Where’s the rest of the crew? You were dead.” His heart tightens again, recalling the terror that’s now only just abating

“You were dead too. All of the crew was.”

The shadows titter around them and Luffy tightens his grip. He doesn’t need to ask Zoro more than that, can see it in his eyes that he was tempted too, by shadows with loved faces.

He hates it.

Hehehehe!

“It stopped when you used your haki.” Luffy nods at Zoro’s statement and hauls his swordsman upward. “I think it’s something with the shadows.”

“Hmm,” He hums and glares at the world around him. Fine then.

His hearts wild still, and he may still be holding on to Zoro’s sleeve, reluctant to let his new refound crewmate go but –

He’s not doing it (losing them) again.

Ever.

Luffy wishes he had his hat, but at least he can assume his crew is alive for now. And Sabo to, judging by the slip of a Vivre Card in Wado Ichimonji’s hilt.

Fine.

Luffy drags Zoro forward, and forces the world to kneel to him, in one wave of the Will of Kings.

Conquerors Haki.

The world goes still for just a moment.

Wind.

The shadows melt away, dragging themselves backward from trees and sky and people, as if being propelled by an invisible force field. The inky jungle is no more, and no longer resembled Goa’s lush trees and undergrowth. Instead it is barren, with sickly, endless trees that reach up to a cloudy sky. The fog is gone, apparently made of shadows, and there is a person up ahead, revealed by the force.

Luffy doesn’t dare let his will go, now that Zoro is before him and the shadows that laughed and took his crew away from him are gone.

The figure up ahead stands and waves, familiar hat in hand. Luffy charges forward, not letting go of Zoro’s arm and waved.

“SANJI!”

Sanji smiles and waves back.

-

A moment ago, Sanji was charging through the trees, the next, running over some bratty kid with a pipe and something that did not belong to him in hand.

The kid glares, and swipes at Sanji with his pipe, but Sanji has been mad for a while now and if the kid was looking for a fight, well.

Sanji breaks the pipe in half and snatches Luffy’s hat back from the freckled brat.

“Who the fu-“ He starts to ask before the island shakes.

Kneel. A will commanded that doesn’t end. Kneel.

It is Luffy, sending out another burst of conqueror’s and this time he seems to have gotten the clue that whatever was controlling the shadow’s will isn’t greater than his own.

Thank the seas.

Sanji watches as shadows seem to fling back from Luffy’s will, as if bouncing off a shield. The island becomes bleak as the inky figures melt from trees and shrubbery and sky, leaving a barren landscape.

And, with his captain and the mosshead in clear sight.

(Where’d the kid go?)

“Sanji!” Luffy shouts, running towards him, but Sanji is already moving to meet him. He slams into the both of them, yes, mosshead included, catching them in his arms as arms surrounded him in turn.

“You’re alive,” He cries, tears that his body told him he wasn’t able to shed (starvation) dripping from his eyes. “You’re alive!” He holds on tighter as Luffy and Zoro both tighten their own grip.

A huddle of emotions, for a minute, before instinct kicks in.

“Fuck off shit cook,” Zoro mutters, and if Sanji’s “Shitty-ass mosshead” wasn’t just as wobbly he would have teased him for years.

As it was, reunions could come later. For now…

Sanji plops the iconic straw hat on Luffy’s head. “Missing something captain?”

“Shishishishi! You found it! Thank you Sanji!” And rubbery limbs wrap around him again, damn it, he can’t breathe!

Luffy seems to get the hint and backs off, letting Sanji suck in some much needed oxygen. But still keeps a grip on his sleeve, as he was with Zoro, and Sanji understood.

He switches Luffy’s grip on his sleeve so that Luffy was gripping his head, and took a drag of his cigarette with the other.

“So… I’m assuming personal nightmares?”

The joy that had crossed Luffy’s face was no more. Instead, his lips form a stern frown as his hand made an aborted motion to reach up – presumably to touch his scar.

“Yeah.”

“Mmhmm.”

“Least you guys figured the conqueror’s haki thing out. Now we can actually find the bastard.”

The world is so much clearer now, without the oppressing force of the shadows on his mind, suppressing his haki. Like the glass has been wiped clean and now he can see the world, thanks to Luffy.

He hadn’t even affirmed the lack of haki before, but it must have started when the nightmares started.

Luffy cocks his head to the side. “Oh.” As if he just now noticing the vibrant sense in the world.

“Dumbass.”

“Hmph.”

It’s quiet as the trio looks around them. Luffy lets go of their sleeves to push his hat more firmly on his head and make a fist with his hands.

“It’s the island,” He says “Isn’t it?” Sanji’s captain’s voice is low, but it seems to tremble with anger. “Making us feel all that without our permission.”

The thing hurting them, targeting them, because they were the only ones who could sense it isn’t a person… it’s the entire island.

Puzzle pieces are falling into place. The island attacked them because they were able to sense its power, were strong enough to repel it, and tried to shut it down before it could reach that point but sending out shadows with fears in them.

Preying on them. Sanji feels disgusted.

He doesn’t know why, only knows that the Island had hunted them for sport, leeching off of their fear and despair and something awful. He doesn’t want to know what it showed the others, but judging by his own terror, it can’t have been pleasant.

The island is alive like the shadows in the Florian triangle, and Sanji wants to burn it to the ground.

Luffy’s in agreement, eyes flashing. “The shadows got to come from somewhere, right?” Sanji and Zoro nod. “Then we find the source and smash it to bits. That way it can’t come back.”

Finishing that, Luffy whips out an arm, stretches it, and knocks down half the trees to their left.

“COME ON OUT! IM GOING TO KICK YOUR ASS!” He yells and charges forward. With twin devil grins, Sanji and Zoro follow.

Luffy’s haki pours forth like the flood. He’s keeping it up, strong and steady and unrelenting as they rampage halfway across the island. He’s a conqueror, a true one, even if he never wants to rule over anything but his own freedom.

Sanji lashes out at the remaining foliage and shadows, thankful that his captain is Luffy.

But… the shadows are slipping away into something greater, convalescing at the center of the island, a shallow valley surrounded by the two mountains along the side. Its growing, growing growing, like a dark hole of loveless light. It has no eyes, nothing to give it meaning, but Sanji can tell it’s watching them.

As it grows bigger, so does its effort to fight against Luffy’s will. It can’t beat it, but his captain has to put in quite a bit of effort. Zoro and Sanji start taking up more of the fight as Luffy keeps his will extended, drawing back to protect his crew.

Sanji lets fire fly, and leaves it to Zoro to tell their captain to stop with the haki for a moment.

“If we know it’s there, we can’t be tricked anymore.”

Luffy nods, preps a King Kong Gun, and drops his haki as he unleashes a ground shattering attack.

The island shudders as if its hurt but the shadows don’t stop running. Sanji’s haki is fine.

Good.

It’s time to show this island what it means to be afraid.

-

The island is a lot smaller now without the shadows. The cliffsides that Zoro climbed are no more than perhaps five stories tall – he could have jumped that, if he wanted to, and not climbed down.  The jungle is no more than a mile, and the shore is clearly visible.

The island is a fake and Zoro can’t believe he fell for it.

The laughter stops as they reach the center. The sky’s bright and no fog covers the sea– the island itself is entirely razed to the ground by the force of their attacks.

The black hole like thing that sucked all the shadows in is nowhere to be found.

Instead, the child that Zoro had met before is standing in the center, looking like a glitch in reality. Light does not bend around him, like a painting without depth or reality. He’s there, standing over some pit in the ground, glaring with silver eyes. Blood drips from his mouth and his fists, scrapes across his knees.

The shit cook starts as if he too recognizes the brat. And since Sanji had Luffy’s hat he probably did meet him.

But Luffy…

Luffy freezes, and lets go entirely of the haki of the conquering king. (Zoro had thought he already dropped it. Guess he just made it so that Sanji and Zoro couldn’t feel it, which damnit Luffy that wasn’t the point of stopping it!)

“Ace?” Luffy whispers softly, sounding confused, and Zoro has never wanted to destroy anything more than he has in this moment.

“Luffy,” The brat – Ace, is this how that polite man looked as a child? Angry and lost? – says stepping forward. Zoro unleashes his anger at the surrounding area, which is shifting, and realizes the shadows have changed again. They have condensed into this caricature of their captain’s dead big brother, and melded to the environment, changing it from barren island to warring battlefield.

Zoro recognizes it from newspapers.

Marineford.

It ripples with every sword slice, shadows tearing apart and reconnecting and recoloring, but nothing can be as terrible as this war scene. Bodies strewn about, ice and fire glinting in the light.

The sky, so clear a moment ago, is dark. Zoro feels wrong-footed, and hearing the cook shift next to him, knows Sanji feels the same. What’s real? What isn’t How can we fight this? What are its weak points?

Luffy, before them, hasn’t moved.

“Hehehe!” Ace says, laughing, that laugh that has followed them through the island and laughed at their peril. “Little Brother, you can’t win here. No one can. So many people have fallen already, given their soul to—”

“I don’t care.” Luffy says, and there is ice in his tone. His will, his haki, grows, from when it paused at the sight of his brother. Zoro bares his teeth, and watches as the shadows step back. “I’m going to be King of the Pirates. I don’t have time for shadow guys again who like to hurt my crew. You aren’t Ace. This isn’t Marineford. So shut up.”

His voice reverberates throughout the valley. Luffy has always told people to get out of the way, to shut up or fight him, and this is no different. And Luffy rarely doesn’t get his way, because Luffy fights for want he wants.

(That, or the universe falls to his whims.)

This fake Ace takes a step back at Luffy’s indomitable spirit, then another. Sanji and Zoro as one step forward and attack the shadows around them, taking the mirage of their captain’s worst nightmare away from him.

(Though, hopefully he hadn’t noticed.)

It’s not enough, as the living island realizes it can’t beat them this way  and grows.

Freckled skin turns into scars and a tank top stretches into a marine jacket and flowered shirt. A cigar is bitten between gritted teeth as the figure grows and grows and grows. Blood boils and melts and solidifies into lava as Akainu stands tall in the center of the valley.

“Yeah, boy? Aren’t you scared now?” And Zoro hasn’t seen Akainu before or heard him, but he hates him already. He may just be a mirage, but it’s enough. “Big brother isn’t here to protect you

“Yeah. He isn’t.” And Luffy, without flinching or with a drop of terror, lunges forward in Gear Four.

“I can protect myself now.”

The island splinters as the attack hits, and Zoro knows no fear.

Fight, his captain says without speaking, and Zoro fights.

-

Akainu is here, and the last time Luffy saw him was when he was pulling his hand Ace’s chest. He’s not scared of him now, though he guesses the island thought he would.

Dead brothers, and war, and lost crew.

Luffy has already faced them. This island can’t throw them back at his face again. He might have despaired for his crew, but they are here now. The past doesn’t matter.

What matters is making sure his crew comes out alive wherever they are.

This is just training for when Luffy finally takes down Akainu.

He won’t lose. He isn’t scared.

Luffy attacks, and the battlefield erupts into dust.

-

Time flows differently on the Grand Line. Islands shift in and out of storms and fog, from one century to the next. Some theorize that Raftel is one such island, drifting between the shores one era and the next.

(In some way it is.)

It should come to no surprise that when an island falls it is as if it was never there at all. The sea is as unforgiving as it is beautiful, and time does not care for any rules but its own.

Luffy fights the will of the island for what seems like days. Zoro and Sanji whirling in action beside him, fighting back to back and arm to arm, never letting each other fall. Akainu – the island- falls to ruin with every cut and punch and kick.

Akainu falls, slowly, but surely, over the pit he came from.

A final Gum Gum Pistol and Ace is on the ground, bleeding out. One last trick to play.

But Luffy, nor any of the Straw Hats, like to dwell on the past on their own accord. A force of conquerors haki, and the island crumbles into a small stretch of rock and sand. No valleys or mountains around it.

The hole, the pit of darkness that the shadows came from, is all that remains. In it, a single skeleton, not singing or drinking tea. An unkept sword rests in its grip, wreathed in shadow.

Zoro ignores it, and they all ignore the skeleton.

When they look up, it is night, not sunny nor foggy. Endless stretches of stars, so familiar in the Grand Line, scatter the sky.

Luffy looks up and places a hand on his hat.

Terror does not pump through his veins, nor does horror or despair or grief. Only acceptance, and the feeling of an adventure completed.

Tiredness creeps in after.

“Let’s go home, guys.” He says, turning toward to the Sunny docked in the small bay that the sand and rocks create. The glistening black rocks of shadow, once used to attack and trap

They go home.

(behind them, as they set foot on the Sunny, the island sinks into the sea. Water fills the pit and the sword is swallowed up by the ocean’s force. Shadows seem to leak from it, fleeing into the sea like freedom flies to the wind. In a moment, it is gone, like rocks and sand and trees never existed.

The Peninsula of Drifting Fog, once part of a continent that has since fallen to the ocean floor, is no more.)

-

Luffy wakes to Nami screaming in his ear.

“WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED!? WHERES THE ISLAND? WHY’S THE ANCHOR IN THE WATER!? WHY ARE YOU ALL BEAT UP!?” She’s standing in front of him as he is sitting on deck, but despite her words her actions as she moves to help him sit and look at his wounds are gentle.

Luffy’s just glad to see she’s okay, and ignoring the multiple scratches and burns scattered about his arm, catches her in a rubbery hug. “Shishishi! Nami!” Spotting the rest of his crew looking at them on neck, he stretches to include them in the hug as well. “Usopp! Chopper! Robin! Franky! Brook!!”

He doesn’t let them go, feeling that frenzied, awful feeling fade away, until Sanji and Zoro wake up and attract the attention of the crew, who scramble for them as well.

They had fallen asleep in a huddle by the mast, too tired to make it to their quarters.

It was the first restful sleep Luffy had had in a while but he still feels drowsiness in his veins.

But he’s not alone now, and his crew isn’t dead.

He can breathe again, without anger or despair coating his lungs.

He can live.

-

Sanji is the one to explain to the others what happened, in a brisk sort of manner. Luffy and Zoro are never ones to ask what happened, only what are you going to do. Sanji’s the odd one out in that regard.

An island, a living island, he tells them, with a cursed sword for a heart. Nami writes in down, in the log, in the passage she titled Drifting Fog Peninsula. There’s a space marked in her map for it as well, in colors of blue and gold, to show that it has been destroyed by the Straw Hat Pirates and is now sinking under the sea.  

(There’s guilt in her shoulders, for being too tired to mention the legend last night. It had truly been only a night, the island fucking with their perception of time, instead of the weeks it felt like.)

It targeted us, because we could sense it. Probably would have gone on to you next. It tried to keep Luffy down a lot, because of his Conqueror’s Haki. He tries to avoid what it used to attack but his crewmates aren’t dumb. They know it takes more than fire and attacks to bring down Luffy, knows something went on when Sanji’s is more frantic in the kitchen and Zoro naps near the bottom of the stairs and Luffy can’t go without clinging to someone for more than fifteen minutes. It used fears.

He doesn’t say what kind, doesn’t know what the others faced, and it certainly isn’t his right to tell them that Luffy saw his brother die again (and who knows how many times before, when he was alone,) and fought the man who killed him.

We figured it out, in the end, what was causing it, and Luffy used his haki so we could all get a clear head. It was easy on out from there.

He doesn’t mention burns, or the way Luffy hadn’t cried. The way Zoro looked distant and agree and the way Sanji couldn’t stop shaking when they got on the ship.

They don’t need to know, though he does trust them.

They’re crew. Family.

Somethings you just hold close to your chest, that’s all.

-

Two nights away from the island, however, Sanji still can’t sleep without nightmares.

Each time he awakes, however, paranoia drives him to he use his observation haki to see if it’s just his regular brain fucking with him, or shadow brains.

It doesn’t particularly matter.  Zoro and Luffy are in the same boat. They all keep quiet about it, and so do their crewmates.

The past is the past on this ship of dreams, and the future is only ever King or Dead. The present is all that matters.

And presently, Sanji finds himself as he was nearly a week ago, and every night since they have been back, stumbling, bleary eyed and shaking, into the kitchen with Zoro and Luffy on the floor.

He doesn’t speak, only whips up some cinnamon tea and a light snack, and unhesitatingly curling next to Luffy, who quickly links their arms as he was doing with Zoro beside him.

Luffy’s eyes are red, Sanji notes, but there’s an ease to his shoulders now that both Sanji and Zoro are here. Seeing his crew, his captain, eat, is also doing wonders for Sanji’s nerves.

Zoro’s tense, but in the way he usually is – almost entirely relaxed but ready to protect his crew if need be.

In a moment, they find their way to the aquarium with a blanket and little conversation other than a whispered Shishi! as Zoro and Sanji fight over opposite ends of the blanket.

They sleep then, huddled in a pile, nightmares frightened away. The next night they will rejoin the crew in the sleeping quarters, crewmates finding their way into bunks not their own, but for now…

They sleep, undisturbed, in the quiet of their home.

No nightmares, no shaking hands or tense shoulders, can find them here, with a warm drink between their hands

#HAHA IT WORKS #anyway please reblog! #reblogs > likes #AND HEED THE WARNINGS" #VERY IMPORTANT #anywayyyy tags #op #one piece #ao3 #fanfiction #whirlywrites #requests #whirlyanswers #whirlywhat #sanji #roronoa zoro #monkey d. luffy #zoro #luffy #kuina #ace #zeff #akainu #portgas d. ace #nami #chopper #usopp #brook #robin #franky

[uzumaki-rebellion]

“Wet Sugar” [Part 11 of 30]

"I won't make you pull out Getting it all tonight (All that I want) I just wanna go down In history how you like (Wanna be the one) As the one who makes you comfortable 'Cause your lips, they got me feeling very vulnerable (The way that you speak to me, freak with me Gives me a rise)

In too deep Don't wanna pull out (And I think we're) In too deep Don't wanna pull out…"

DVSN—"Too Deep"

Summary: Erik & Yani take a big step...

NSFW. Mature content. Smut. As always, Like/Comment/ & Reblog if you enjoy it! Happy reading!

Erik spent an hour soaking his right hand in ice. His knuckles were bruised from handling Chez.

Yani was quiet after they dropped Twyla off at Leona's. When he took her back to the compound to retrieve her car, her silence bothered him.

"You okay?" he asked when they arrived at Klaue's.

"I'm fine."

"You still look shook up from what happened."

"It was a lot to see."

"Can you stay over for a bit?"

"No, I have to get back to Sydette and then I'm heading over to my cousin's house."

"Can I come see you tonight? We can watch TV…I can help watch the kids—"

"It's better if I babysit alone. Bam is not good with new people and he won't let us watch TV in peace."

"Can I see you tomorrow?"

Her eyes wouldn't meet his and she rubbed her right hand over her thigh in a nervous tic. He stepped closer to her and let his left hand cradle her face.

"What's wrong? You still worried?

"Yeah."

He pulled her in for a hug and he felt her soft body relax into his, her tension draining in his arms. Her face rested on his chest.

"Nothing is going to happen. Believe me."

He tilted her chin up to him and bent his head to kiss her. Her lips took his and he was gentle with her mouth.

"Call me tomorrow if you want to hang out," he said. He didn't want her to commit to anything if she still needed to get her bearings.

"I will," she said.

He watched her leave and wondered if he ruined their fragile reconnection.

Hand cool and feeling better from the ice, Erik took a look at the security feed from all around the compound. No intruder detections. No weird glitches in the security system. He checked on the secret vault in Klaue's main house under the large world globe that held the man's liquor. Afterward, he took a walk to the gun range and made his way to a false room that led down into a fully functioning wide-open workspace.

Erik had already moved in the equipment he would need to work on Klaue's arm, the prosthetic secured behind a magnetized forcefield. He had carefully disassembled about forty percent of the arm to study the mechanical functions. Klaue confided that it was a modified Wakandan mining tool he had stolen when he snatched the cache of vibranium for Erik's father. The arm used sonic and electromagnetic tech, and it was Erik's second introduction to technology from his father's homeland.

The entity known as Ultron had rendered Klaue an unwilling amputee, and somehow Klaue had jerry-rigged himself a haphazard weapon from the Wakandan tool. The first thing Erik did was to implant a secret tracking device. Once he figured out how to fix the vibranium issue in the arm, he would deliver it to Klaue personally. He would always know where the man was anywhere on the planet. It would make Erik's life easier. He made a note to order some robotic tools through Marisol in Brazil and have it FedExed to the P.O. Box he had set up in Havensight under an assumed name.

Sound was his specialty, and his days at M.I.T. were spent studying sonic warfare. He was actually excited about working on perfecting the weaponized arm. He had a small glimpse of Wakanda by accident when he was a child. Rubbing his right knuckles, Erik thought of the night he had snuck out of his parent's bedroom with his father's kimoyo beads. He was almost ten and working hard on a science project to enter into the Stark Science Expo. An affordable personal homecare robot for the elderly, that's what he was creating for the expo. Something to help his Nana who had become too frail to care for herself the way she used to. His great-grandmother was one of the great loves of his life. He wanted to make something for her to help make life easy the way she had done for his mother before he was born.

Erik chuckled to himself. How strange it was to remember how he was so enamored with anything Stark related when he was a child. Then to become Tony Stark's intern at nineteen and getting to know the man behind the Expo was a whole other level of irony. To think that Iron Man himself had unknowingly helped prepare Erik for his takeover of the world by giving him access to cutting-edge cyber tech as a teenager was a feeling he relished. There would come a day, one day soon perhaps when Erik would look that man in the face again. Maybe they would have another conversation like the one they had ten years previous where they had shared some personal things with one another during a time where Erik's father had left him a small clue reminding him of what his destiny was.

The night Erik slipped away from his parent's room with the kimoyo beads had been a life-changer. Tinkering with his robot all day with his father as a test subject and observing his father's beads glowing with a silver light prompted Erik to wait for his father to slip the beads off of his arm and rest it in the velvet casing he kept it in at night near his bed.

Erik could remember it like it was yesterday. Watching TV with his parents on their bed, his father nudged him to leave so that he could make love to his mother. His parents hadn't even noticed him slipping the beads into his pajama bottoms. He left their room and went into his retrieving the fingerprints he had lifted from his father when he touched Erik's robot project. Erik knew that his father's beads weren't just decoration. They heated up sometimes. Changed colors. Glowed when Baba didn't think Erik noticed. Vibrated.

Sometimes his father stroked the beads, not as one would do to adjust jewelry, but more like he was typing a code into it, his subtle taps catching Erik's eyes. When Erik tried tapping the beads himself, nothing happened. So he set out to collect his father's fingerprints, trying to collect enough oils in the print to try and see if he could figure out a code that he was sure his father was using to make the beads stop glowing or even vibrate.

He could hear his parents making love, something that was normal to him as a child, and it was the perfect time to experiment with the beads. His father was a deep sleeper after he had sex, and Erik knew he could put the beads back before the sun came up.

Then it happened.

He used the lifted prints and a force bipolar gripping tool to try and open a bead, but then it all went haywire when a force-field of blue light blinded him with intense brightness that flooded the room. His own fingertips had access to controlling the beads at that point and he stroked one of the symbols releasing holographic images that floated around him with images of his father's homeland. His first introduction to the real Wakanda.

His parents caught him and Erik had a glimpse into his own future. It broke his family apart for a short time. Right before the really bad times began. When his family was broken forever.

He shook the memory away before it led to a place he didn't want to go to in that moment. The immediate goal was to figure out why the vibranium was overpowering the prosthetic controls in the arm. He couldn't do that until he knew how the mining tool worked inside and out.

After taking enough 4D photos of the interior of the arm, Erik took a break to make himself dinner.

"Yo man, you can't keep blocking the walkway."

Jerome only stared at Erik as he lounged on the cement path catching the final rays of sunlight. He walked around the iguana.

"Stop shitting near the pool too, nigga," he tossed back knowing the iguana didn't give a damn and would keep defecating wherever it pleased.

Dinner was just leftover grilled lemon chicken and a baked sweet potato. He ate his meal out on the balcony and watched the sea along with a bourbon colored sunset. He didn't feel like working on the arm again, and he didn't feel like reading or watching TV.

Sitting on the balcony in the balmy weather was pleasing to his overactive brain. His mind could become manic in a lot of ways when he worked on things. He checked his cell searching for Yani's name on the gossip site she mentioned. He saw the picture causing the ruckus and was glad that his dark glasses hid most of his face. He saved the picture in a gallery file. Something about the way they looked walking together made him feel good. Sydette was pointing to something that he was smiling at, and he could see why his dimples would make the comment section blow up. The baby was smiling too even though her eyes were blacked out, her own dimples deeper than his, and Yani clutching his arm just made them look like a little family.

He would be hard-pressed to blame Chez for thinking incorrectly about his paternity. Erik almost felt bad for the dude. Not over the paternity gossip, but for losing Yani. Ursula wasn't that much of a looker, and the other side chick he had on his couch was subpar at best.

He read the comments and the breakdown seemed evenly split, half thinking Yani had stepped out on Chez, the other half stanning Yani and applauding her for moving on from a deadbeat. He wondered how it felt for Yani to be island famous not because of her own talents, but because she had a baby with a popular man-baby. He couldn't imagine dropping babies in women back to back like that.

He checked Yani's timeline and she hadn't added any new pictures or updated her feed. He scrolled through old photos of her and her avatar popped up.

"Hello?" he said almost breathless.

"Hi," Yani said.

"Hey, what's poppin'?"

"You want to come over?"

His voice got a little cocky.

"I thought your little cousin would have a problem with me?"

He checked his watch. It was almost eight.

"My cousin ended up canceling her plans. I'm at home."

He wanted to pick her up and bring her to the compound, almost suggested doing that, but then he thought about Sydette. Shit. A baby did change a lot of things. Yani would have to pack up a bag for her and then, depending on when they left his place, they'd have to maybe wake the baby up, pack her up again while disturbing the child's nighttime routine.

It also meant that if he wanted to mess around with Yani, which he did want to, he was in Leona's home and sex was out of the question.

But he wanted to see her again.

"I'll be right over," he said.

###

They watched a sketch comedy show re-run with Sydette sitting between them on the couch. Leona was fast asleep and Twyla was in the bedroom she shared with Yani watching another TV show. When an adult animated show came on, Yani lifted up her t-shirt and slipped her bra cup aside to let Sydette do a final night feed before bed. Sydette suckled but kept her eyes on Erik, and he felt himself get a little jealous. He wanted to be on Yani and kept hoping the little girl would fall asleep soon. The thought made him think of his father again and how he would get annoyed when Erik used to linger on their bed to watch TV with his head on his mother's stomach. Somewhere in an afterlife, if there was one, his father was probably laughing at him. Erik now knew how he felt when Baba wanted alone time with his mother and Erik was blocking access.

Sydette was so sweet though, and he could see her eyes getting drowsy. Her head fell away from Yani's big dark nipple.

"At last," Yani whispered, "I'll be right back."

She scurried away with the baby and went to her room. Erik stretched his arms out on the couch and waited for Yani to return.

"You want anything else to drink?"

"No, I'm good," he said making his voice softer in volume.

Yani dimmed the lights in the room.

Alone at last.

She cuddled up next to him and they watched another episode of the animated show. He put his arm around her and she snuggled closer and he wished they were back in the living room of Klaue's house. His hand brushed against her right breast and she sighed. His eyes glanced over to the hallway. The two bedrooms had their doors closed and it was hard to see the couch from where the back rooms were.

"Give me a kiss," he said.

She tilted her head up and he kissed her, already knowing she was wanting some affection by the way she was leaning into him.

"Is Kendall coming home soon?" he whispered.

"No. He's performing tonight at a club on the other side of the island."

His lips devoured hers and she squirmed on the couch. He pulled her to sit sideways on his lap.

"My turn with them titties, baby," he said pushing her shirt up. She held it up for him with her left hand and he pulled out her breasts from the cups of her bra and latched his mouth onto the right breast. He sucked on her like he needed to be fed, his lips going back and forth to lick and nibble each nipple. His dick was already getting fat in his shorts just from how he was excited by her large nipples.

He kissed her and her hungry mouth gave as much as he could greedily take. His right hand fondled and plucked at her tips. Her head turned slightly back to check to see if anyone was stirring from the back rooms.

He pulled her hand to touch his erection that grew against his thigh.

"Look what you did," he whispered.

She tugged on him and his lips pressed into hers until her fingers curled around the head of his dick. He was free-balling in his knee-length basketball shorts. They both could see the wet stain where his clear fluid was soaking through against his thigh. She gripped him tight and he pushed his face between her breasts.

"Fuck…you got me so hard. Taste me baby…"

His fingers touched hers on his tip and he let his pre-cum wet his fingers. He brought the sticky fluid up to her mouth. She sucked on his fingers.

"Put Daddy's dick in your mouth."

Her hot tongue licked off the last of the natural lubricant from his fingers. He didn't care that he was in Leona's house at that point. He pulled down his shorts and let his erection spring free, his balls felt heavy resting on the couch.

"Take care of me, baby," he said, not liking the begging tone in his voice. He pulled her t-shirt over her head and pushed her off of his lap. He was rough with her, his desperate need to finally have her mouth on him stopped him from caring about gentle nudging. Not with those big juicy tits out like that and her perfect lips hanging open, her pink tongue licking the corner of her mouth.

She widened her legs and the soft silky green shorts she wore rode up until they were wedged tight against her inner thighs. She stroked his dick with her hand. He would normally yank a woman's hair when she didn't do what he wanted right away, but there was nothing to grab on Yani, her crispy as fuck fade sleek and gorgeous, her eyes set on his.

"C'mon girl, suck this dick, stop playin'."

He slapped at her face playfully and she ducked back from him, her thumb gliding over his glans with slow deliberation. They both watched him drip from his slit a copious amount of lubricant and she just kept fingering his wide spongy tip as it slid across her thumb and fell to the floor.

Her left hand lifted up her left breast and she squeezed it, then brought it against his dick. She let his tip rub against her nipple and more fluid dripped from him.

"Yani…"

He squirmed on the couch and her eyes stayed on his, watching him, but she still didn't give him what he wanted. Her silence unnerved him but he was hypnotized by his slick glans circling her areola.

"Fuck!"

Her mouth slipped around the top of his glans and sat there, her tongue pressed against the underside of it, resting on his frenulum and giving light pulses that made the sensitive skin tingle. He thought she would insert the rest of his length in her throat, but no, she stayed right on that glans, her tongue beginning to glide around the corona, that equally sensitive ridge surrounding the head before she dipped the tip of her tongue into his opening. Pre-cum pooled onto her tongue and her wet mouth spit into his weeping slit. Soft flicks into that hole made him clutch the cushion of the couch.

"Ah…damn…"

Erik's toes bunched up and his legs jerked with his thighs.

She let a stream of saliva drip all over his shaft as her tongue ran down the underside of his erection and suckled his balls, one by one until she had them glossy with her spit. She licked back up his length and engulfed the head again and just suckled it. Her tongue kept spreading spit around the head keeping it nice and slick. Trailing her nails past his heavily groomed pubic hairs, Yani rested her left hand on his stomach and twirled her index finger around his belly button.

She had his nuts jumping, each ball sack moving up and down. He'd never had his balls react so strongly like that and he had no control over their movement. The heels of his feet dug into the carpet because his slides had been kicked off the moment she licked the seam of his sack with that honey tongue.

His dick deepened in color and he watched his balls rise up tight.

"Hmmmmph!" he groaned when she finally took him deeper in her mouth.

His eyes darted toward the hallway opening, but it was still quiet in the back.

He tried pushing her head further down on his length, but she brushed his hand away, allowing her lips to suction down his dick so slow that he grabbed a throw pillow and shoved against his mouth to keep from yelling out loud.

By the time she was bobbing her head and slurping all over his shit, he gave up on controlling the situation. When she changed the pace back to slow and sloppy wet, he was ready to slay giants for her with his bare hands.

"Whatchu doin' to me baby?" he choked out with the pillow near his waist just in case.

Her eyes challenged him.

"Sucking your dick like you want," she said sliding her lips under the head.

"You sucking the fuck out this dick."

"You like it?"

"Fuck yeah…ohhh…don't stop…don't stop…shit baby, I wanna stick this dick in your pussy right now…stretch out them fat pussy lips…"

She released her mouth from him, her bottom lip wet with saliva from his shaft. His face contorted with pleasure and he was afraid to move or else she would do something to make him wake the household up. He gripped himself and slapped her lips with the weight of his thickness.

"Open that mouth back up…open up! Shit…got my balls still jumping…"

She did as he demanded and he thrust deep into her throat, moving his ass to the edge of the couch so he could hold her head with both hands and fuck her mouth hard. She pushed back from him when she gagged and he finally felt like he had the upper hand. Her lips and neck were drenched with spit and more of the pre-cum he released in her mouth. His balls were raised up tighter.

Yani plucked at her nipples, taking her time, gazing down at her own fingers pulling on the stiff tips. She jiggled their heft for him, and just like that, he gave in again, falling back on the couch and holding his dick up for her.

"Gimme that mouth…"

Her fingers slipped down her shorts and he could hear how wet she was down there between her folds. He shut his eyes thinking of her on his bed back at the compound as he fisted himself. Her tongue licked his balls, trailed up his length again and then she deep throated him.

Erik sat there and let his body take in all the sensations that cascaded all over him. Every nerve seemed to be vibrating in his skin and his erection was even more swollen.

"Take this fat black dick in your mouth, girl."

He felt the vibration of her groan around his dick, the veins pulsing in her mouth.

"Yeah, you like that. You like this fat dick in your mouth. Say it!"

She stared up at him, all treacly and innocent-looking in the face like she didn't have long inches of veiny black cock packing her throat. Her lips peeled back from him.

"I like this fat black dick in my mouth."

"This the only dick you gon' suck from now on. Hear me?"

"Mmmhmmmm."

"You taking it deep, baby. Make a nigga feel that shit…yeah."

She was shameless with her throat game.

"I'm gon' fuck the everlasting shit out of you…wait 'til I get you in my bed…beating them walls up. Packing that pussy deep. Sucking me so good, baby. You want Daddy to bust all in your mouth…all in that mouth. So fucking nasty wit it, Yani…so fucking nasty…oh shit baby! Oh fuck!"

Her neck was working his fat dick like there was no tomorrow. He couldn't hold out much longer. The heavy surge of semen was hot at the root of his cock. He gripped the couch pillow again ready to spring it up to his mouth.

"Yani…Yani…fuck…baby…I'm cumming…I'm cumming baby…swallow Daddy's cum…you nasty bitch…giving you this big load baby…Yani!" His throat felt red and raw from trying to keep his voice down without having to smother his face with the pillow. He wanted to watch her take his nut.

Erik's hips bucked and Yani swallowed his cum. When he hit the back of her throat, he pulled out and jerked off until more thick ropes spurted all over her face.

"Ah, yeah…that's it right there…damn girl…dassit!"

He slapped his dick on her face, the shaft still stiff as it smeared more cum across her lips and chin.

"Fuck, baby. I drenched your whole face…"

Yani opened her mouth and let his cum dribble down onto her breasts where her fingers rubbed it all over her chest. Erik bent down and picked her up, putting her side-saddle on his lap again.

"I better clean up my face—"

"Nah. Take your shorts off."

"Killmonger—"

He yanked on her shorts and the force of his grip startled her.

"Take them off."

He wasn't asking her. She looked over her shoulder.

"Nobody is waking up. Do what I tell you to do."

Her eyes widened, and for a second, he thought she was going to get up from his lap. He tugged on the waistband of her shorts and she eventually wiggled out of them. She only had her bra on twisted down her shoulders and not even covering her breasts.

He shoved open her thighs and let his index finger rest on her engorged clit. He felt it twitching under his finger.

"Don't move," he said.

The slow compact circles made her whimper.

"Killmonger—"

"Shut the fuck up."

His left hand rested around her waist and his right hand played with clit and only her clit. His head rested on her right breast but his eyes stared at her clit.

"Fat pussy," he hissed. Her outer labia were so puffy. He wanted to bite her pussy lips, mark that shit up with his slugs, make her know she was all his from now on.

She wiggled her wide backside on his thighs.

"Yani…I said don't fucking move."

He added his ring finger and circled her clit even slower.

Her thighs shook and she tried her best not to move anything more than that, but his delicate fondling made her pussy wetter, he watched her pink slit wink open spewing her stickiness out onto his lap. He started making zig-zag patterns on her nub along with the circling. Her ass cheeks clenched.

"Killmonger…please…."

"Nah. This is what you did to me. You give it, ya gotta take it too, girl. Thought I told you to shut your fucking mouth…"

Yani threw her head back and her lips curled up in a pout. His teeth grabbed onto her nipple and bit hard enough to make her gasp and stare at him. His left hand slapped her ass hard, the sound echoed in the room and her pussy spasmed.

"Got my cum all over your face. I like that shit. Get used to it. I'ma put it all over you when I get you alone—"

"We're alone now—"

He slapped her clit and her eyes grew wide and her mouth fell open.

"Stop being so fucking hard-headed."

He kept teasing her tight bud, never letting his various strokes go faster or slower, just the constant pressure that had her pushing hard sighs from her throat, made her chest heave so that her breasts jiggled, and forced her sweaty body to heat up even more against him. His dick was brutally hard again.

"Look at your pussy," he said.

Her eyes glanced down and her inner lips were covered in her slick.

"Won't need no lube when I get up in there."

Her chest heaved again and he kissed her, slipping his tongue into her mouth. She let go of his lips and looked down at her pussy again, his fingers constant sensual torture on her engorged clit.

"Killmonger!"

He was ready to scold her again, slap her vulva, but her desperate exhalation of breath caught him off guard as a bit of colorless fluid sprayed out of her urethra and her vaginal opening throbbed uncontrollably.

"I'm cumming…I'm cumming…I'm cumming…Gawd…" Her soft breathiness made his eyes roll back. Her voice was so sexy when she tried to be quiet and discreet. Her right hand clutched his shoulder with her nails digging into his skin.

Her face dropped onto his shoulder as she bit into his neck to keep from screaming out loud. Her orgasm seemed to last a long time before her teeth let him go and she slumped against him. He had a handful of sloppy wet pussy and his stiff dick was ready to beat down her walls. He reached for his shorts and realized he forgot to bring his wallet. The wallet and the two condoms he had hastily stuffed into it were left sitting on his bed when he had changed from jeans to shorts after working on Klaue's arm.

Erik laid back horizontally on the couch and pulled Yani down next to him spooning her. Rattled from the way she came on his hand he pressed his fresh erection between her thick cheeks and humped her like he was fucking her pussy. His body temperature was scorching and he felt sweat glide down his back and ass. His hands clutched her breasts and he dropped his scruffy cheek next to her face.

"I wanna be in your pussy, baby," he gasped, pumping against her fat ass.

Yani pressed back hard against him, flexing her cheeks so that her ass gripped his dick.

A noise distracted her.

"Twyla's up," Yani whispered. They could see the faint light in the hallway coming from her room.

They heard the soft stop and start cries of Sydette.

Erik kept pumping, his hips grinding his stiffness harder against Yani's ass.

"I have to take care of her—"

"Yani…wait a minute…lemme finish…I'm 'bout to bust—" "Killmonger, my baby is crying—"

"Hold on—"

She tried pulling away from him and he held her in a vice grip.

"I'm cumming baby!" he hissed in her ear.

Hot spurts shot on her back and dribbled down onto the curve of her ass.

"Goddamn," he groaned, rubbing her behind.

He released her and she ran to the bathroom with her clothes in her hand. Reaching for his clothes, he dressed quickly and sat back up on the couch. The cushion was damp so he padded into the kitchen to find paper towels to wipe up the mess they made. They should've put a towel down before they started.

Yani's body darted into her bedroom and she was gone for a long time. Erik cleaned up the couch then flipped channels on the TV. There was nothing on so he sat quietly waiting for her.

She returned carrying Sydette who had tiny jewel-like tears sitting on her cheeks. Yani took her into the kitchen and returned with a small round teething ring from the freezer. The baby's lips suckled the cold ring.

"She's in pain," Yani said.

"Baby teeth coming in are tough," he said.

Yani wouldn't sit next to him, just cradled Sydette while the baby gnawed on the ring.

"Come sit down," he said making sure he sat in the damp spot on the couch.

"I'm going to be up with her for a while…so…"

"I should leave then?"

"Yeah, it's painful for her and it'll be boring for you to stay—"

"I don't mind—"

"I'm tired. And I need to focus on her."

Her tone was neutral. He had messed up.

"I wasn't trying to keep you from her—"

"I have to deal with this now, Killmonger."

"Can I see you tomorrow?"

"I have to work."

"What time—"

"I'll call you when I can see you, okay?"

He stood up and walked over to her. He looked down at Sydette and stroked her head.

"Hey, Sweet Pea. You'll have all your teeth soon and this won't hurt anymore," he said.

It pained him to see her with tears on her face and to hear the pitiful sounds she made. He stroked her cheek and then stroked Yani's arm.

"Goodnight," he said.

He leaned in and kissed her cheek, grew bold and kissed her lips. She accepted it but pulled back quickly when Sydette started crying harder.

Walking out of the apartment, he thought of how he should've let her go to the baby. His need for pleasure and release made him ignore her need to handle her business. He'd never been with a woman with a child before. Actively avoided it. Maybe if he had seen her with her baby first, he would've ignored her.

He kept replaying his actions. He didn't keep her from Sydette that long. Maybe two minutes? And Twyla was in the room with the baby, so if it was a real emergency, an adult was there to handle it. He shook his head as he drove to the compound. He hoped she would call him.

###

Yani finished the Eco Tour intro to a group of thirty tourists. A Carnival Valor cruise ship had arrived for a six-hour excursion at the island, and this tour would take five hours with lunch. A full package tour of kayaking, hiking, and snorkeling.

"Let's go!" she said with true enthusiasm as she led the group to put on their vests and pick out their kayaks.

She sprayed sun-block on her arms and put some on her face as she slipped her high-def work shades on. She did another headcount and was shocked to see Erik climbing into a kayak with her group. She didn't even see him while she gave the intro talk.

"Where did you come from?"

Erik had his own wrap around shades on and his smile was seductive.

"Been here the whole time. I was standing in the back when you were talking."

"I didn't see you."

"I was to your right near the tree."

She didn't know if she felt annoyed or elated to see him at her job. She told him she would call him.

"I wasn't trying to jump on your tour, I just missed the earlier one by ten minutes, and I only took this one last minute. I'm not stalking you. I promise."

Taylor, Yani's co-guide on the trip, was already leading the kayakers out on the first leg to Cas Cay.

That damn smile again. Those dimples. And that body.

"Don't distract me," she said.

The paddle out to the cay was pleasant, and Yani brought up the rear of the group making sure no stragglers got stuck if they had trouble maneuvering their kayaks. Erik ignored her and spent time chatting with some women from Atlanta, two Black twins with cute braids piled on their heads and light brown skin that was slathered with an oily sunblock.

The three of them laughed a lot and Yani caught snatches of their conversation as Erik asked about neighborhoods and food places. Kayaking through the mangroves was filled with excited chatter and by the time they began the hike on the Cay two hours later, Yani was feeling a bit testy with Erik acting like she didn't exist at all. He partnered up with the twins again on the hike and when she tried to stay near them, Taylor had to keep reminding her to stay in the back for folks who had to use the restroom and needed to catch up without getting lost.

After a packed lunch they went snorkeling for the final part of the tour. The protected clear waters had people oohing and ahhing at colorful fish and when one of the women with Erik squealed out loud and jumped on him, Yani felt her blood pressure go up. The woman was clutching his biceps, her fingers on his keloids since he was topless.

"It's just a sea turtle!" Erik called out to everyone. The squealing twin took a long time letting go of him.

The turtle swam out to sea as the tourists stayed a respectful distance watching it as they snorkeled.

Erik's eyes sought out hers and something on her face made him dog paddle over to her. He looked her over and splashed a little bit of water on her.

"What's that face for?" he asked.

"Why you so touchy-feely?"

"Touchy-feely?"

His face scrunched up with confusion and then he smiled.

"She jumped on me."

She splashed water back at him.

"You must've learned a lot from your two new best friends, huh?"

"Girl, stop…"

He leaned in to kiss her.

"I'm still at work," she said backstroking away from him.

He watched her with a smirk on his lips and followed her.

"How's Sweet Pea?"

"Doing a little better. She just has to endure. We all went through it."

"Were you upset with me last night?"

Yani's eyes took in who was around them.

"You have to understand something. Sydette comes before anything. If I have to go to her, I don't care what I'm doing, I'm going to her." "Got it. Won't happen again."

He wiped his eyes and she led him further from the twins.

"Let me show you something," she said. She adjusted her tankini.

"You're at work though," he said.

"Shut up!" She said splashing water back at him.

She pulled her goggles and breathing tube back down and he did the same.

She swam over to a rock formation and pointed out some black and yellow rockfish. Erik gave her a thumbs up underwater and they saw more colorful beauties. His hand reached out and touched hers and she grabbed his hand and pulled him closer so she could see his eyes through his goggles. She lifted off the snorkel gear holding her breath and he did the same. She dived down deeper and he followed.

Baby barracudas swarmed in some mangrove roots and Erik was cautious as he swam next to her. They popped back up and his smile was bright.

"That was wavy," he said.

He treaded near her and gave her a kiss.

"People might see," she said.

"I don't care."

She kissed him back and before he could press up against her tighter, she shot away from him to return to the group.

The paddle ride back was nice mainly because Erik kept his kayak next to hers.

"You are great at this," he said, "I learned a lot."

"Good."

"I'm surprised you didn't become a marine biologist instead of a nurse. Water is your element."

"My parents used to say that."

"This job is physically taxing. You have to do this again when we get back?"

"No. We rotate. I led groups last week, and after this group is done, I'll help prep the kayaks for tonight. We do night time kayaking too."

"I should try that next time."

"It's fun."

Erik hung around as she bid the tour guests goodbye. When she was about to go clean the kayaks, he approached her. Some of her co-workers watched them.

"Call me when you have some free time," he said.

He left her standing by the dock and she wanted to leave with him. Being near him was difficult, her need to touch him was overriding her need to figure out how she would handle sex with him. When he first arrived at her Aunt's house, her clit felt like it had a heartbeat of its own. Just his arm around her was enough to make her start sweating with nervousness. She wanted him so bad, and she could tell he was going to push her to do things his way. And she wanted to do it. When he made her sit on his lap, she could not keep her mouth shut, could not keep herself from responding to his touches. When he struck her backside and her clit, she was sure her family could hear them. They couldn't mess around like that anymore in her Aunt's place. There was no such thing as simple petting with him. Or quiet make-out sessions. He was beyond that.

She finished her shift and went home to leftover peas and rice and baked chicken. She comforted Sydette with her teething ring and fell asleep before she called Erik to tell him she was home.

Working the morning shift at Eco Tours, Yani was finished by three and picked up Sydette before heading to Kmart to pick up some sales on diapers and new baby clothes. She strolled up and down the aisles with Sydette sitting in the shopping cart picking out items for the house that her Aunt would probably need.

Standing in line, she became aware of two women staring at her from behind.

"Is that Big C's baby for real?"

The woman asking had a scarf over her hair, her eyes unkind as the woman next to her stared at Sydette. Yani stood closer to the cart blocking their view of her daughter.

"You're just ignoring me?" the woman in the scarf said.

"I don't know you," Yani said turning her back toward them.

"That baby not his. Don't even look like him," the other woman slurred under her breath.

Yani started placing her items on the conveyor belt. Scarf woman took out her phone.

"Don't take pictures of my baby," Yani snapped.

The woman glared at Yani.

"I'm not hurting her—"

"Mind yuh business or leave the store."

The store clerk handling Yani's items cocked her head toward the two women, her voice loud and firm.

"Mind yours," the other woman said.

Yani picked up Sydette and kept her face away from the women.

"Do I need to call security?" said the clerk.

The two women rolled their eyes and Yani paid for her items.

"Mel, can you help this customer with her bags, please?"

Another male clerk who walked in with a few carts walked over and took Yani's things at the sales clerk's request.

"Thank you," Yani said.

Yani kept her hand over Sydette's face as she followed the young man out. No telling if other people recognized her and wanted to snap candid shots. She led the helper to her car and he placed her bags in the trunk as she put Sydette in her car seat. When she was alone, she sat quietly in the driver's seat. She was accustomed to people approaching her, but not people focusing in on her baby. It worried her.

She scrolled her social media feed and there was nothing new really. A few photos of her and Kendall under the hashtag "Juvay". A post about "Fiyahbun" being re-mixed in London with another artist adding a bar or two. Kendall was probably over the moon and Yani wondered who the other artist would be.

She checked a few other hashtags with her name and it was mainly photos of her with fans of the album, and a couple of old pictures of her and Chez in happier times. She saw the two women who were behind her in the line leave the store. She still felt unnerved. She would have to start keeping Sydette covered, or maybe go to stores later at night or early in the morning. She could handle things when it was just directed at her. But not her baby.

If she was to be with Killmonger, they would have to limit their public interactions, especially if Sydette was with them.

###

Eight days.

Eight days since Erik swam with her at Eco Tours, and eight days since she had seen him in person.

Her time had been spent working her two jobs and caring for Sydette. She left him messages twice but kept missing his calls because she would be traveling between Eco-Tours and the restaurant. His concern when he did talk to her on the third day was to make sure she was rested and able to spend quality time with Sydette, while also studying up for school in the fall. He said he was working on some things for Klaue that took up most of his time, and she missed talking to him in person. By that sixth day, he stopped leaving text or voice messages.

The eighth day of not hearing from him filled her with dismay. It was a rare day off for her, and she took the time to visit the clinic to get tested, leaving Sydette with Kendall for two hours. She spent the rest of the day looking after Sydette and checking her cell every fifteen minutes until she finally packed the baby up in her car and drove to the compound.

Standing in front of the gate in the dark, she hit the intercom button several times. She called him on the cell three times and still had no response. He didn't even have her on read for her texts.

Maybe he left the island again.

She pressed the intercom again and felt an overwhelming sadness come over her. Her lip trembled and she felt her eyes welling up.

Maybe he had changed his mind about her. Maybe he was off with someone else who didn't work all the time or have a baby to care for. Maybe he ghosted her and—

"Hey. Yani. What are you doing here? You have the baby with you?"

He stared at her face from the security vid screen.

"Hold on," he said.

She heard a loud buzz and the main gate rolled open.

She didn't bother to drive the car in, just walked in with the baby in her arms. Making her way to the main house, Erik met her halfway down.

"What's going on?" he asked.

He wore comfortable sweats with slides and some light green protective goggles rested on top of his head.

"Yani?"

She pressed her face into his chest.

He took Sydette from her arms and she buried her face more. He threw an arm around her.

"Baby, what's wrong?"

"I just want to see you," she said, "I thought you were gone."

"Ah, girl. I'm still here—"

"You never answer your phone or return my calls—"

"I've been working non-stop. So have you—"

She felt stupid for bawling into his shirt.

"Come on," he said.

He walked her and the baby down into Klaue's main house and sat her on the balcony lounger facing the ocean. He held Sydette and the baby sat quietly looking up at Yani.

Yani wiped her eyes and sat back into the cushiony softness of the lounger.

"It's been eight days since I've seen you. I've been working…I went to the clinic…I've been prepping for school. Sydette still has teeth pain…"

"It's hard doing everything by yourself. I know. I wanted to give you space to handle your life. I don't want to intrude or put pressure on you. I'm new to this type of relationship, still trying to figure out where I fit in on your schedule. I wanted to see you too. Don't think I didn't."

"I want to make time for you—"

"You don't have to explain anything to me, Yani."

Erik pulled her in closer and she rested her cheek on his shoulder. Sydette reached for her and Yani picked her up and held her as she leaned into Erik.

"It's tough. It's more crowded at my Aunt's house and I'm tired all the time."

They watched the slow lazy waves of the high tide roll in. Erik rubbed her arm and Sydette sat with her head against her chest.

"I'm just so tired…"

"Rest then," he said.

It was the last thing she heard before her eyes fell shut.

###

Water.

Sea Birds.

Fresh ocean air.

Yani's eyes popped open and she sat up fast and disoriented.

"Sydette?"

Her eyes ogled the room she was in and for a moment she thought she was dreaming because she didn't recognize her bedroom.

She wasn't in her bedroom.

She was in Erik's bedroom.

Wearing only her t-shirt that she drove over in, Yani pulled the covers back and stepped off the plush mattress and silk sheets. The wall to wall windows were partially open and she could smell clean air rushing off of the sea.

Shit. It was morning.

"Killmonger!"

She rushed out of the master bedroom and found Sydette sitting back out on the balcony with Erik. They both sat on yoga mats facing the water. Erik had his hands out in open palm prayer reception, and Sydette was right next to him, sitting up and watching his face. Her teething ring was clutched in her fingers.

Yani stopped to watch them.

She could hear Erik whispering morning prayers in Arabic, his hair tied up, and his blue linen shirt matching the morning blue of the sky.

"Mama!"

Sydette crawled to Yani as soon as she saw her, and Erik laughed at how fast she could get across the floor.

Yani reached down and picked the baby up.

Erik stood and stared at her. For a long time.

When he walked into the house, he stroked her cheek.

"What time is it?" she asked.

She was disoriented, didn't even know where her cell was, and Klaue didn't keep clocks in the house. Our Lady's Manor was to be a timeless place to relax for him.

"Nine."

"I didn't mean to fall asleep on you," she said.

"You were exhausted. I put you to bed. Sydette and I were right there with you."

"I left all her stuff—"

"I brought it in from your car when I drove it into the garage last night."

He took Sydette away from her again, and her daughter squealed and played with Erik's locs.

"Go back to rest. You can sleep as long as you want. I let Twyla know where you were."

Sleep.

God, that's all she wanted to do.

"I'll watch Sydette."

"It's past her morning meal," Yani said.

"She's good. She ate already. There was a jar of pears and peas in your baby bag. She's been bathed, diapers changed, the whole nine yards. Go on back to bed. If she needs you, I'll bring her to you."

She hesitated.

"Are we keeping you from your work?"

"Nah. Today will be an off day. All day."

She nodded and his eyes were gazing at her again in a strange way.

"What is it?"

"I want you to make a decision."

"What kind of decision?"

"I want you and the baby to stay here with me. I'll hire you to be my personal housekeeper and cook. But you don't have to do anything. Just take care of Sydette and do what you want to do before you start school. I'll pay you whatever you make at your jobs…double. I know you like the Eco Tours place a lot, so if you want to work there once or twice a week, I'll take care of Sydette, or take her to your Aunt's while you work outside the compound—"

"Killmonger, that's—"

"Let me give you this. Okay? That way we'll have time together when you want. And you don't have to worry about me not calling. I'll be right here with you."

"We're still…you're asking me to live with you…with a baby…"

"I don't want to see you crying at the front gate worried about me."

"That's huge. What if—"

"If you think I'm moving too fast, you and the baby can have any of the other two houses for yourselves. You make up your own schedule. I'll need you here to watch the place anyway when I deliver something to Klaue next month. Or maybe sooner. Your Aunt will be gone, so who else will I have? Think of it as your regular Klaue job if it makes you more comfortable with the arrangement."

She watched his face.

This man was something else.

"Any of the other two houses?"

"Your choice. Move in today if you want."

"I want to think about this."

"You know you don't have to think too hard, Yani."

Her heart palpitated.

Live here? In paradise? Beach all to herself? A big soft bed. Peace and quiet. Her baby swimming in a pool with her and being able to be in the sea whenever they wanted to be. Together. Sweet Pea crawling in the soft grass and being around trees and flowers. Getting to know Jerome. Having a mother who was relaxed and Lord Jesus…present for hours. Her baby deserved that.

"I want to take Sydette with me. I want to figure this out. Really make sure, y'know?"

Erik nodded.

She held Sydette close to her on Erik's bed. The giant king-sized luxury bed put Sydette to sleep within minutes.

Yani played with her daughter's beads.

She would stop working at the restaurant. She would stop working there any way by September, but if Erik was paying her double, no sense staying there. It was a night gig and she could be home at night from now on. Eco-Tours was a favorite place. She could work there once or twice a week just for fun and to get out of the house and meet new people.

What was holding her back? Why couldn't she say yes? And God, he was offering her a house of her own for three months. All to herself. She could have the house with the pool. A house she cleaned and prepped for other people since she was fourteen.

Erik's voice carried through the open windows.

"Bismillaahir Rahmaanir Raheem, Alhamdu lillaahi Rabbil 'aalameen…"

Yani closed her eyes.

Take what he wanted to give. Take it. It could be a vacation with her baby. Once school started, she would be so busy and so focused on doing well. Why not create a deeper bond with her child right now with this man's help?

Erik walked back into the room quietly and unwrapped his hair. He folded up the white cloth and placed it inside a bureau drawer.

"Killmonger," she whispered.

She held her hand out to him. He crawled onto the bed and spooned around her as she held onto Sydette. His cheek rested against hers and she took comfort in the weight and warmth of him surrounding her and the baby.

His breathing slowed down, matching the even pace of her own.

"Stay," he whispered.

"I will."

Chapter 12

Tag List:

@fd-writes​ @soufcakmistress  @cherrystainedlipsbaby @tclaybon  @thadelightfulone

@allhailqueennel @bartierbakarimobisson @cpwtwot @shookmcgookqueen @yoyolovesbucky

@raysunshine78 @the-illllest @terrablaze514  @l-auteuse @amirra88 @jimizwidow @janelledarling

@chaneajoyyy @sweetestdream92 @purple-apricots @blackpinup22 @hennessystevens-udaku

@scrumptiouslytenaciouscrusade @bugngiz @stariamrry  @honeytoffee @meilintheempressofdreams

@tyees

#wet sugar #killmonger #erik stevens #n'jadaka #klaue #killmonger fanfiction #killmonger smut #black panther fanfiction

[peacefulrevivalteen]

The Pop Plan

Cooking bonus Event for Round 2! @taiyuu-high-oct @snoopdoggkun @fentonblububelli @shimo-content

         Ever since they returned from their second round of battles Ozen has in her free time tirelessly searched of ways to try and repay Popi or at least show her appreciation for saving her round for her.

         Ozen has always preferred personal gifts, the sentimental person that she is, to her it’s telling the other person “Hey look! I appreciate you enough to make you something!” She even still has the balloon animal Popi made her, back at her house.

         So now she finds herself looking over the list she has made of what Popi likes and starts to go down the list to find something feasible.

         “She really likes fashion.. so that’s immediately out, already made her a balloon animal for her birthday.. Cursed dolls, mhm yeah nope, rat toys seem to be useless if they are free range rats so that’s also out.” She spends the next half hour like this, “no” after “no” after “no”, she’s honestly losing hope when her eyes finally land on it.. Cake Pops

         While it may seem easy enough, Ozen has to get around Her. Who is she? The biggest thorn in her side that existed months before school even started, the head of support Sherif.

         They first got to know each other after Ozen got her acceptance letter to the school, proceeding to eagerly put in her request for her hero outfit. The weeks leading up to the start of school saw constant arguments over email. Ozen’s current outfit a mere shadow of what she had planned, whether it be “grotesquely expensive to make a suit out of platinum”, “unfeasible to secure that much depleted uranium we aren’t the military,” or any of the other excuses Sherif liked to throw around, it was safe to say they were not on good terms.

         This tumultuous relationship is what Ozen suspects to be the reason that the western themed hero accepted Ozen’s parent’s silly request of BANNING their daughter from any heat oriented cooking appliances.

Her mom’s still have not gotten over the incident a couple years ago. So what she took the cookie tray out of the oven with her bare hands, severely scalding them and requiring a visit to the hospital. We all make mistakes.

         Sherif made the conscious decision to rig up such an elaborate protection system simply to keep Ozen away from the damn stove. Whenever she gets too close, those blasted light disks of Sherif’s block her way. She once pushed her luck and managed to get closer just for a special alarm to go off that resulted in multiple disk lights blocking her in. She only got out after Sherif sauntered her smirking self over and released her.

         This is for Popi, her best friend so she has to try her best to succeed. If this was a couple weeks earlier she would have no clue about going about such a task, but a certain transfer student with an electricity quirk and a penchant for setting off fire alarms recently changed that, giving her the opening she needs.

         Ozen found out, after one of the increasingly common quirk discharge and subsequent fire alarm that the system that runs those solid light disks reminiscent of Sherif’s own quirk, shuts down. This is understandable of course, they wouldn’t want Ozen to be stuck inside with no way out during a fire. Also after timing a couple she found that after the fire alarm is finally shut off through staff intervention there is a thirty minute period when the system reboots and recalibrates.

         Ozen doesn’t want to get in trouble for purposely triggering a fire alarm so she opts instead to catch the next instance of the dorm fire alarm being “Zeke’d” All she can do is prepare at this point, physically practicing the steps, committing them to muscle memory.

         Ozen’s time to shine came not even a week later, up in her room doing homework the fire alarm blares, aggravated residents call out Zeke’s name in exasperation, but not Ozen, because she has some damn friendship pops to make.

         She can’t waste any time, there is only a little extra time for everything, if she was right next to the kitchen, but she’s in her room. Ozen swings her window open and launches herself out of it with purpose, landing totally unharmed with a “whump” in front of the dorm entrance.

         She rushes inside catching sight of a very aggravated gargoyle “Where is he! Where the hell is Zeke!?” She calls out. Sensitive hearing must suck for this, but one gargoyle’s plight, is another best friend’s cake pop.

         Rushing to the fridge, Ozen starts quickly grabbing the supplies she has stocked up for a day such as this, placing them on the central kitchen island.  Just to make sure she isn’t wasting her time Ozen slides a foot cautiously towards the stove and… no light, good, just as expected.

         Ozen starts by preheating the Oven to a nice 350 Fahrenheit before heading back to the island. She proceeded to pour her ingredients into the bowl, placing the new mixture into an electric mixer, adjusting the speeds accordingly.

         Once finely mixed she starts pouring the batter, just in time too, the oven beeps itself in glorious recognition of its pre heated state, just as the fire alarm winds down and shuts off. Only thirty more minutes, Ozen will be cutting it close but she continues unperturbed.          She manages to get the dish in the oven not soon after, which leads to the most dangerous part, Waiting. This is the most important step, she believes she managed to get it in, in time to have it fully cooked before the system comes online.

         She’s right, and around 25 minutes later her toothpicks start coming back clean meaning she won’t be cutting it close at all, she just has to chill them in the refrigerator after the crumbling for 30 minutes, roll them into balls, stick them lollipops and dip them in.. chocolate… Melted chocolate she was so focused on being banned from the stove she forgot she’s banned from ALL heat related kitchen appliances, including the microwave.

         Ozen begins to internally panic, the chilling is going to take way too long, what is she going to do? She frantically looks around catching the attention of a couple of students who find it odd she has been so fast paced today.

         Ozen’s gaze finally lands on one student in particular, one always clad in their iconic jacket no matter the weather. The student with a frost quirk, Hiyasu Shimokizu.

         Her back is turned and it seemed she was talking to… Them of course it had to be Tokachi and Gakusa. She takes in deep breath and reminds herself she is doing this for her best friend.

         She runs with vigor over to them, the bunny girl raising her brow as Ozen makes her way closer.

         “Um, can we help you Ozzie-chan?” the small girl asks

         Ozen doesn’t stop to chat, instead choosing to pick up Shimo under her arms, surprising the poor girl who only let out a surprised “Waa?!”

         “I must borrow her really quick, no time for conflict” Ozen lets out rapidly turning back towards the kitchen, the students in the common area stop what they are doing as they watch the stoic Ozen run off with Shimo like some old arcade villain, her surprised yelps traveling with her all the way up to Ozen plopping her down in the kitchen.

         The absolutely flushed Shimo turns to look at Ozen, only managing a look of confusion as she catches her breath.

         “Shimokizu-san I need your help, can you recreate what you did the other day with those popsicles, to these?” she says, motioning to the bowl of proto cake pop.

         Still without words Shimo just nods and shoos Ozen out of the kitchen, and once making sure it’s safe, begins to cool the bowl down, Ozen watching on in muted interest as the area immediately around Shimo takes on a frosty appearance.

         Once finished Shimo walks over and hands the chilled bowl to Ozen, flushing at the thank you Ozen provides in return, heading back to her original group while Ozen rushes over to the island to begin rolling.

         Ozen manages to fully roll all 18 cake pops, albeit some lumpier than others, proceeds to quickly toss the bowl of chocolate into the microwave for a set 20 seconds. As the hum of the microwave churns she turns her attention upwards to the main array, the system that controls the physical light disks starting to glow.

         Shit, I’m out of time Ozen thinks to herself, the microwave beeps behind her and she doesn’t have any time left, she can’t leave it to cool so she just grabs the bowl with both hands to take it out, the sizzling emanating from her hands tells her she probably shouldn’t be doing this but she ignores it as she sets the bowl safely down on the table.

         She did it! Ozen managed to make her cake pops! She gives herself a little mental pat on the back before going in to start the dipping, it’s at that moment she notices the pink on her hands. Turning them over for inspection she finds that… she burned her hands.

          “Well fuck” she curses to herself, beginning to notice how silent the room got.

         Looking up for the source of silence she finds her fellow students collectively staring at the same spot, Ozen turns to find what it could be the cause and once she does understands perfectly as she catches sight Sherif standing in the entryway, a deep glower directed straight at her.

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

         “That’s funny” her best friend remarks, swinging her legs on the bench as she munches on homemade cake pops

         “Yeah, my moms are furious with me” Ozen replies, looking over her newly bandaged hands.

         They sat like that for a while, just listening to the sounds of the waves lapping at the shore, the sunset slowly sinking into the horizon. It was peaceful, Ozen cherished moments like these.

         Popi is the first one to break the silence.

         “These taste terrible” she states, continuing to gaze at the ocean, munching never slowing down

         Ozen just stares at her friend, the whole situation and awkwardness of the day starts to get at her and she bursts out into a fit of laughter.

         Managing to calm herself down, Ozen returns her gaze to the darkening Ocean. “Yeah, I’m a terrible baker” she lets out with a smile.

         Another couple of minutes pass by before Ozen reaches down into her bag. “I picked up some pops from the bakery after getting out of the clinic, want these instead?”

         “Oh god yes” Popi responds immediately, tossing the homemade pop into the trash.

         The sun is now fully gone but they stay a little while longer, enjoying the calmness of the ocean.

         Popi eventually plops her head to the side, leaning on Ozen. “Thank you” she lets out.

         Ozen responds in kind, plopping her head to the side too, coming to rest atop Popi’s head. “Of course, what are friends for?”

#taiyuu oct #Ozen fujinuma #Suzuki popi #Hiyasu Shimokizu

[sherrybaby14]

The Distraction XI

Summary:  This is based off a request for a dark!Steve Rogers x Reader.  You are innocent and Steve is in need of a distraction.

Warnings:  THIS IS A RAPE/NONCON STORY.  PLEASE DO NOT READ IF THIS OFFENDS YOU.  

A/N:  So this is it! The last chapter!  Thank you all for reading!!

  His chest rose and fell at a rapid rate. Both of you speechless.

   “I love you too.” He said the words in between pants.

     They weren’t words though. They were more. They were everything. He was your everything.

                        Five minutes of work and then he could check again.  Steve leaned back in his chair and ran his hands down his face. He had the browser window minimized, but all he could do was stare at it. What if she had moved rooms?  What if…she tried to leave?

                        “Ugh.” Steve knew it wasn’t his finest moment but he clicked the mouse and maximized the screen.

                        His heart jumped in his throat.  She was gone.  He clicked the button to zoom out to all of the cameras and scanned the screen.

                        “If you want to slack at work I can recommend a better movie.” Tony’s voice made Steve jump in his chair. “Wow, you are distracted. I can’t remember the last time anyone snuck up on you.”

                        “It’s the first day I’m leaving her alone out of the basement.” Steve went back to scanning the images.

                        “There.” Tony leaned over and tapped the screen, zooming in on her. “See? Y/N’s fine.”

                        “She doesn’t like it when I watch her like this.” Steve watched as she curled up on the couch with a book.

                        “I told you, my system is flawless. You will always know where she is.” Tony bit into an apple with a crunch over Steve’s shoulder. “Now we don’t exactly have desk jobs. Any leads on that threat?”

                        “I don’t think it’s credible.” Steve made the camera image of you larger. “I used to love being here, but now I just want to be with her.”

                        “Retire.” Tony leaned back. “Or go down to a consulting position.  I know you don’t need the money.”

                Steve had been thinking about that exact idea lately. Then they could spend all their time together, and soon they would be ready to start a family and he didn’t want to miss a second of time with their children if he could help it.  

                “The old man is growing up.” Tony slapped Steve on the back. “I’m glad this whole experiment worked out for you.”

                A smile spread across Steve’s face. He nodded, knowing Tony’s ego didn’t need a full-on thank you.  But Steve had his girl now and that wouldn’t have been possible without Tony’s assistance.  Steve was catching on to technology, but Tony helped with the door and cameras amongst other things.  

                Steve’s smile faltered when she stood up from the couch.  He recognized body cues and she went from relaxed to almost running.  

                “You should put it on motion setting then the view would auto-switch. Go to camera four.” Tony tapped the screen sending it into touch mode and made the change.

                Steve’s knuckles went white as he watched her sprint to the hall and towards the front door.  He knew leaving her alone was a mistake.  She wasn’t ready.  He stood up from his desk ready to rush home, equal parts scared, angry, and disappointed.

                Her hand grabbed the handle and Steve started to turn.  

                “Woah, calm down.” Tony set his hand on Steve’s shoulder.  

                “I told her not to leave.” Steve ignored Tony and started towards the door. “Now we’re going to end up back at square one.”  

                “WAIT.” Tony was one of the few people who could give that command and Steve would listen.  “Look.”  

                Steve glanced over his shoulder to see you curled up on the porch screen.  His adrenaline started to fade, but then his jaw clenched.  

                “I was clear.  She wasn’t supposed to leave the house.”  Steve walked back over. “What if she’s testing the limits?  Seeing how far she can get without me noticing?”  

                “Of course she’s testing the limits.” Tony took another bite of his apple. “Wouldn’t you?”  

                “She should have asked me first.” Steve knew he should have left her in the basement. “She’s not ready.”

                “I thought she dropped the L word?” Tony dipped his chin. “Check your phone.”

                Steve pulled the thing from the pocket of his jeans. There it was on the home screen.  

                Would you mind if I sat on the porch?

               It’s such a nice day. I’ll be good. I promise.

               Please? The house is lonely without you.

               You told me this is my home too, does that mean I can go outside? I won’t leave the porch I promise.

               I am going to sit outside. Please don’t be mad at me.

               I love you.

                The text messages started two hours ago.  Steve felt heavy with guilt.  

                “I was so busy watching her I didn’t even think about her messaging me.”  Steve shook his head as he sat back down. “I saw her on her phone too, but I had mine on silent. I assumed she was checking e-mail or something.”

                “Okay man. If you’re giving her access to e-mail/internet then this whole freaking out watching her behavior is your problem, not hers.” Tony folded his arms.  

                He tried to look disappointed, but the apple slipped from his fingers and hit the carpet with a thud.  

                “I never said it was on her.” Steve watched as she flipped the pages of her book.

                “Retiring or not, there’s no way you can be with her every second of every day. It’s not healthy.” Tony picked up his fruit and continued to eat.

                “You’re the definition of healthy?” Steve pointed to the fruit.

                “You should take advice from the man who didn’t judge you for this entire situation.” Tony swirled his finger. “All I’m saying is, you’re never going to trust her unless you give her a choice. What’s that cliché?”

                “If you love someone let them go.” Steve knew exactly where Tony was going, the thought had crossed his mind.

                “Well that works too, but I was thinking ‘all is fair in love and war’.” Tony took another crunch from his apple. “Either way, do something because you being here physically with your head with her isn’t doing much good for the team.”

                Steve sighed.  He knew Tony was right, he had some choices to make and maybe it was time Y/N made one too.

 ~~~

               Was it a test?  Was he not responding because he was mad at you? Were you annoying him at work?

                Or was it worse? Did something happen to him? For all you knew he was on a mission, battling bad guys, saving the world.  As the hours ticked by the thoughts got worse. What if he was injured? You felt a panic attack come on.

               You knew there were cameras all over the house. Maybe he was watching you.  If he was and had a problem with you going outside, he would rush home, right?  

                That was enough.  You ran towards the front door; sure you were going to lose your nerve if you paused to think about it.  

                As soon as you got to the swing your heart clenched. He said not to leave, would he be angry? Did you break a rule?  You flipped through the pages of your book and then heard the ding.

                Don’t go further than the porch. I’ll be home in two hours. We’re going out.

                You dropped your head back and closed your eyes. He was safe. As soon as that settled in you picked your head back up. Out?  A smile spread across your face.  It had been so long. Was he going to take you to a movie? Maybe dinner?  

                He had promised to take you to Coney Island. The weather was nice, maybe it was time to ride some rides.  

                You tried not to get too excited because it didn’t matter where he was taking you as long as the two of you would be together.

                The book and the porch were no longer interesting. You stood up and went back into the house, determined to make yourself look perfect for your date.  You were going to take as long as possible to get ready because right now two hours sounded like an eternity.  

 ~~~

               The blue dress you chose would always have a special place in your heart. You ran your hands down the pleats and remembered the first time Steve dressed you.  It must have been his favorite.

                That scared girl seemed like a stranger.  You remembered the night he took you and your virginity, but it wasn’t you shaking on the bed. It was like you were standing in the room watching the scene play out instead of being there.  

                Still, the vision made your lips part as you let out a stifled whimper. The phantom orgasm sending shivers down your sides as a tingle formed between your legs.  

                You pushed your thighs together and hoped if he brought you to Coney Island he would give you some panties.  

                Then the image of Steve’s hand creeping up your thigh as a rollercoaster went to the top caused another wave of excitement.  You were definitely a different girl.  

                The break of the door opening sounded and you rounded the corner. Steve walked inside and you almost melted at the sight.  You stood in the hall as he came to you, wrapping his arms around your waist, while you placed yours around his neck, giving you the touch you craved.  

                “I missed you doll.”  He kissed the top of your head.

                You squeezed and shut your eyes as tears started to form. It was hell being away from him.

                “I love it when you get all ready for me like this.” He pulled back and you looked up. “Of course tonight it’s not just for me, is it?”

                “It’s only for you.” A tremble worked its way over you. “Were you mad at me today?”

                “No.” Steve brushed his hand over your hair. “You did very well. I need to get better at checking my phone.”  

                Maybe you shouldn’t have sent him so many messages. His work was so demanding and you knew in the back of your heart he wouldn’t have cared if you went on the porch.  You shouldn’t bother him so much.

                “Well, you look ready to go.” Steve dropped his arms from your waist. “Shall we?”

                Your features tightened.  You expected some private attention before you left. Your arousal went unanswered and you clenched your thighs.

                “I recognize that look.” His blue eyes flashed as he dipped his chin and took your hand. “If we end up in bed we won’t end up leaving.”

               “It doesn’t have to be the bed.” You blurted out as you pressed your hand to his chest.

               “Very clever Y/N.” Steve placed another kiss on the top of your head. “But you know what I mean.”  

                You let out a sigh, not trying to hide your disappointment.

                “Are you trying to break me down?” Steve tilted your chin up. “Because if you keep pouting like this I’m going to give in and cancel all our plans. Would you rather stay home?”

               “I’m sorry.” You dropped your head and squeezed his hand. “I won’t pout.”  

                “Good girl.” Steve turned and led you out the door.

                He spun around on the porch and locked the house. You had been on a few walks over the last couple weeks but hadn’t gone anywhere really.  Steve offered to take to you a few stores, but it was so easy to have stuff delivered.  For some reason your anxiety flared, maybe leaving wasn’t such a good idea.  

                “Are you alright doll?” Steve appeared next to you, a look of concern on his face.

                You opened your mouth to tell him you wanted to stay home, but stopped. He wanted to go out and you couldn’t be a hermit forever. Besides, you would be with him all night. Safe.

                “Yeah.” You placed your hand back in his. “Curious where we’re going.”

                “It’s not far.” Steve walked off the porch first.

                For some reason, your feet felt heavy, but you picked them up and walked in your flats right behind your man.  He led you down the pathway that went around the house. Normally you went toward the beach and realized you didn’t really know what the back of the house looked like.  

                There was a concrete path that led through a backyard with a shed and a garage that faced out towards a back alleyway.  Steve fiddled with the keys.

                You tried to remember the last time you were in a car. It was probably the night Steve acquired you, but of course, you were unconscious.  You brought your hand to your neck where he had poked you with a syringe and drugged you. Different girl.  

                He went to the garage and lifted the door.  The space was immaculate with half of it turned into a workbench.  In the center was a mid-size black SUV.

                “You look surprised.” Steve led you over to the passenger’s side and opened the door.

                “I pictured you a classic car guy.” He lifted you into the seat.  

                “I’m not really a car guy at all.” Steve leaned over and buckled your belt. “This one had a high safety rating. The classic ones are death traps.”

                “It smells brand new.” You almost forgot what the new car scent was.

                “It is.” Steve winked before shutting the door.  

                He walked around and jumped in the driver’s seat.  

                “I got it a few months ago when I decided I would be driving something very valuable.” He turned over the engine.  

                You looked out the window and tried to downplay how giddy his comment had made you.  This was all for you.

                He backed out the driveway and you were off.  The sun was starting to set and you wished you grabbed a sweater.  It didn’t take long until the houses disappeared and storefronts popped up. The old you would’ve been obsessing over each turn, trying to figure out where you were, but now you didn’t give that sort of thing a second thought.  

                You didn’t need to worry about that sort of thing. Steve would take care of you.  The thought made you glance at your man. There was no smile on his face as he drove with a tense posture.  

                “Are you alright?” You shifted in your seat to look at him. “You seem nervous.”  

                “I’m fine.” Steve’s body language was a different story. It looked like he was squeezing the steering wheel so hard he might break the thing.  

                “I’m not going to run away or cause a scene.  You don’t have to worry about that.” You reached out and put your hand on his fingers.  

                “I know doll.” Steve didn’t relax.

                “In fact, I don’t want you to worry about anything.” You tried to study his reaction. “I love you. I’m so grateful for everything you’ve done for me.”  

                “Well, it’s my job to worry about you.”  The car slowed down.  

                You looked around as Steve came to a high metal fence. He rolled down the window and then tapped in a security code.  The gate opened to show lines of brick storage units.  

                “Where are we?” This wasn’t the date night you were imagining.  

                Steve didn’t respond as he drove down the line of orange doors.  He slowed again toward the back.  

                “I have something to show you.” He stopped the car.

                You looked at him and swore he was starting to sweat. He put the car in park and turned off the engine.  He didn’t unbuckle his belt as he put his hands on the wheel.  Whatever he was doing it was upsetting him.  

                “Hey, we can go.” You put your hand on his leg. “You don’t have to show me anything.”  

                Though your curiosity was spiked. The man had lived such an interesting, long life.  You wondered what was in the storage unit.  Maybe something from his childhood? Or something from the war?  

                “No.” Steve unbuckled his seatbelt. “Come on doll. It’s important.”  

                He reached over and undid yours before she opened the door and stepped out.  You went to the handle on your side, but Steve was there in an instant.  He picked you up from the seat and set you on your feet.

                “Just…remember I love you.” Steve ducked his head down and pressed his lips to yours.  

                It took you by surprise, but you placed your hands on his cheeks and opened your mouth.  He grabbed your hips and pulled you closer as his tongue swirled with yours. The need between your legs started to grow again. How was it possible for one person to want another person this bad?  

                “Mmmmm.” You let out a moan and Steve pulled away.  

                You didn’t care what was in the storage unit.  There was nothing from his past that could chase you away.  You were his. Forever.  

                He went to the side of the garage style door and put in a key.  It was dusk now and the sky was darkening by the second.  Steve went to the center and opened the unit.  

                Nothing looked out of the ordinary. It looked mainly like furniture.  There was a mattress on its side, a dresser, a television, and a couch.  

                The couch looked familiar. You took a step forward and realized it all looked familiar.  A lump started to form in your throat.  You didn’t know if it was a sob trying to break free or your voice getting caught.  

                You didn’t let either come out as you stepped inside the unit.  Steve didn’t touch you as you passed him, staying a few feet behind you.  

                “Why are you showing me this?” The back had several bins stacked on top of each other.

                “It’s time for you to decide Y/N.” Steve shuffled behind you.  

                “Decide?” You ran your fingertips over your old dresser and wondered if your clothes were inside or in the bins in the back.

                “If you want to leave, I’ll set you up with a new apartment and support you financially until you get settled.” There was a shake to Steve’s voice. “If you want to stay, it will be more of the same. I still expect you to follow my rules. I’ll take care of you. Keep you….”

                “Stop.” The tears in your eyes started to fall down your cheeks. “Just stop.”  

                You knew you shouldn’t talk to him that way, but your brain was firing off in all directions and you couldn’t concentrate on anything. The man might as well have been speaking gibberish.  A decision? A choice?  

                You glanced around the storage unit, looking at all of your old possessions. The television you used to binge watch, the crummy kitchen table where you ate you take out and doubled as a desk, the couch you used to fall asleep on more often than the mattress whose springs poked you in the back.

                “Please Y/N.” Steve’s voice startled you. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

                It was like everything was moving in slow motion as you spun to face him.  He bit his lip and stuck his hands in his back pockets as he glanced at the ground before meeting your eyes.  

                He took a step forward and you knew he wanted to hug you, but you took a step back and lifted your hand.  Right now you didn’t want comfort from him.  

                “I am thinking you look so sad.” Steve held both of his hands in the air. “And I want to hold you until you’re smiling again.”

                “You said you would never let me go.” Your voice cracked. “So either this is a test, and if I chose to leave you are going to take me back home and start over again, back to the basement, or it means that your feelings for me have changed and you’re no longer willing to burn the world down for me.”

                Steve lowered his hands and flexed his jaw.

                “Either way it hurts.” You took a step towards him. “But it doesn’t matter because I am not giving you a choice.”

                You brought your hand up and cupped his face before looking him square in the eyes.  

                “I crave you. Your touch. Your control. Your guidance. Your praise. All of it.” Your eyes went to his lips. “So I won’t make a decision, because there’s never been a choice, for either of us.”

                In the same movement, Steve crashed his lips against yours and brought his hands under your ass, lifting you into the air and storage unit. You wrapped your legs around him and wiggled in his embrace, trying to rub your body against his as your kiss deepened.  

                Steve fell forward and your back hit the couch.  Both of your hands dropped to his waist as you undid his jeans.  You continued to kiss and realized he had better positioning to free his cock so you bunched the skirt of your dress up and spread your legs.  

                He owned you and that was how you wanted it.  There was no sense in fighting that fact. Missing him all day had left your soaking and there was no need to ease inside.

                Even with the lubrication, he filled you with such force that you broke the kiss and winced.  Steve didn’t stop as he brought his hips back and slammed into you with power making you moan and cry at the same time.  

                The door to the unit was still wide open and any patron could drive by so you knew you had to be quiet.

                “All mine Y/N.”  Steve moved back and slammed inside of you again.  “Every bit of you is mine.”  

                There was such force behind his movement and his words that you moaned.  He quickened his pace, not pulling out as far but still pumping into you so hard your body bounced on the couch.  You were about to start screaming from pleasure if you didn’t find something to do with your mouth.  

                His neck was right in front of you and you grabbed the back of his head and pulled him down closer to you as your mouth attached to it. You sucked in hard and pressed your tongue against his skin as he kept stuffing you with his cock.  

                You brought your arms around his back and held him closer, lifting your body as best you could while you were caged underneath him, still sucking his skin hard into your mouth.  The closeness made him press against your clit with every thrust.  

                Each time he hit your bundle of nerves you squealed, making it harder to keep your lips on his neck.  

                Steve put more weight on you and started rocking his hips, keeping more pressure on your clit while he filled you.  It was too much and you dropped your head back to the couch and let out a moan.  

                “That’s right Y/N.” Steve started going even faster and you couldn’t stay quiet.  You panted and moaned underneath him.  “You’re so good.  You take me so well.”  

                The praise made your toes curl and the coil in your stomach tighten.  

                “Perfect. My perfect Y/N.”  Steve’s face was right above yours. “Cum for me doll, like the good girl you are.”  

                “Ahhh!” You didn’t hold back as the spring burst forward.

                It was hard to tell if it was black spots or just darkness but your orgasm ripped through you with a roar.  Steve gave two more quick thrusts until he followed you over the cliff, his cock unloading inside of you.  

                You dropped your arms until they were at the sides of your head while Steve pressed his face into the couch.  Your fingers trailed the fabric.  You never thought this couch would see any action.  

                “We should get out of here.”  Steve’s cock slid out making you whimper.  

                He tucked himself back into his pants and offered you a hand.  You stood up and felt your juices trail down your leg.  You wished you were at home, then the two of you could have undressed all the way.  

                He brought your hand to his lips and then pulled you close, throwing an arm around your shoulder.  

                “Steve?” You leaned against him.

                “Yeah doll?” He walked you to the car and opened the passenger’s side door before lifting you inside and buckling you in.

                “Never bring me back here again.” You pressed your lips.

                Steve looked up at you with wide eyes.  There was hidden meaning in your words that was not lost on him. He gave you a single nod in understanding.  

                He stood up and placed a peck on your lips before he shut the door and closed up the storage unit.   When he climbed in the car the light from the door gave you enough time to see your work.  

                Steve turned over the engine and drove away while a smile spread across your face.  He owned you, but you owned him as well.  And right now there was a mark of your ownership in a big purple hickey on his neck.

 ~~~

               It was hard to keep his eyes on the road. He wanted to keep glancing at her, especially when she was smiley like this.  

                Steve reached out and took her hand, feeling guilty he didn’t have both of his on the wheel. If they got in a car accident and she was hurt he would never forgive himself.  

                “I didn’t think we were in the car this long on the way out.  Are we going home?” She glanced around the neighborhood.  

                “Not yet.” Steve gave a smile. “I thought it was time to introduce you to some people.”

                Her eyes went wide and she dropped Steve’s hand and flipped open the mirror.  

                “No…can we go home?” She looked perfect. “At least let me change? I mean…I smell like…and there’s stuff on my leg.”

                “You smell like me.” Steve wanted her to have the reminder. “And that’s my stuff on your leg.”

                Steve spotted the pizza parlor and found a parking spot right out front.  

                “I’m not ready for this.”  She started to shake her hands out. “Please, can we reschedule?”

                “You are ready.”  Steve leaned over and unbuckled her seatbelt. “They’re going to love you. Just be yourself.”  

                He got out of the car and grinned. Tonight had gone perfect. Y/N was clever and saw right through his ruse, but she was confident enough to call him on it.  Of course, he was never going to let her go.  

                “Please.” She looked at the ground when he brought her out of the car. “Another night?”

                “Don’t overthink it.” Steve wrapped his arm around her shoulders and led her inside. “It’s just a small group.”

                He walked inside and held her tight.  Bruce spotted them first and Steve led her over to the back.

                “So this is the famous Y/N?” Tony asked. “I understand why you’ve been keeping her to yourself.”  

                “Ignore them.” Nat held out her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”  

                “Hello.” Y/N shook hands.

                Steve sat down and put her chair extra close to his. Tony started talking and he noticed Y/N start to relax.  He knew she was ready.  

                “Is that a hickey?” Bruce got Steve’s attention.

                “What?” Steve touched his neck.

                “Way to go Y/N.” Nat held up her hand and Y/N gave her a high five.

                His girl turned to look at him and she gave a sheepish smile.  

                “Oh, we’re going to talk about this when we get home.” Steve winked as he placed a light kiss on her neck.  

                Nat started up a conversation with Y/N and Steve leaned back in his chair.  He moved his hand to the back of her neck and rubbed his thumb in a small circle.  

                She was his perfect distraction.  So shy, too smart for her own good, beautiful, and she had developed so wonderfully under him.  

                Steve continued to rub the tiny circle and his smile grew.  If she wanted to mark him with a hickey on his neck it was fine, he pushed a little harder and then felt it.  

                There was no way she was ever going to leave him or get away.  He made sure of that on their first night when she was still unconscious, in fact, it was the first thing he had done in her apartment after knocking her out.  

                His thumb moved again over the tiny microchip in her neck.  Maybe one day he would tell her about it, but he didn’t think so.  He didn’t want to risk having her try and rip it out. Besides, she was being so good right now, but what if that changed?

                Steve had to be prepared for anything and one thing was sure.  He was never going to let her go. NEVER.

  THE DISTRACTION

 Thank you everyone for reading!  I hope you enjoyed reading this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. Feedback is always appreciated!

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