#not asking for ships here I just want to see them hang out and stare at a corpse or something

[the-californicationist]

he trims his beard

Pirate!Price/Reader

God, I want to write thirty damn chapters about Pirate!Price so badly. Someone tell me not to, please? Lol. Otherwise, y'all might be getting thirty chapters of Pirate!Price...

MDNI/18+ TW: virginity reference

Summary:

Captain John Price is king of the Seven Seas, and after he saves your life, you owe him a debt. His fee? To take you as his wife.

The Mediterranean Sea, 1708

“I just can’t…ARGH!” Price slammed his hand down on the porcelain basin as he tried to shave his chin, unable to use his right hand after the accident. 

You pitied him, but you were still terribly afraid of him. When he rescued you, you thought he had been Death riding in on his ghostly white ship. But, now that he had been with you going on a fortnight, you realized the hardened, gruff exterior was but a hard shell encasing the soft, warm center of Captain Price, leader of the Queen’s special unit of Her Majesty’s Royal Navy. 

You’d been marooned on Cassadaga Island for two days, stripped of your jewelry and purse, beaten within an inch of your life, and left for dead. Your would-be husband had planned the whole attack, hoping to cash in on the dowry money. The joke was on him. Your father had a gambling problem and had not two coins to rub together. The musket he kept above the mantle didn’t even have any gunpowder in it, you were so destitute. As soon as your fiancé found out about your lack of adequate funding, he tossed you overboard on his father’s ship. When Captain Price found you there, you were barely hanging on. 

The captain had nursed you back to health, promising to chase down the vagabond and kill him for his dishonor. He’d been true to his word, slaughtering the lot of them, but during his vengeful assault, he’d been shot through the hand with a musket. You’d cleaned the wound, and he had yelled at you for the pain. Now, you were cowering in the corner of your shared room, back to being a prisoner. 

He eyed you from his shining mirror above the basin, 

“C’mere, girl.”

You edged closer. It wasn’t quick enough for him, so he crossed the room, his black leather boots banging on the ash wood of his quarters.

“I said come here,” he growled, grabbing you by the arm and dragging you over to the wash bowl, razor in his uninjured hand. 

He let go of you, straightened himself, and sighed, fixing his harshness into a more genteel tone,

“My apologies,” the words came out of his mouth oily and practiced, not at all his natural verbiage, “Would you be so kind as to trim my beard? With my injury, and my left hand being more useless than a fuckin’ hook, I am at your mercy.”

He handed you the razor and you took it from him, 

“Yes, sir - I mean, Captain. Yes, Captain.”

You were stuttering, full of abject fear at his possible retaliation. 

As you approached his face with the razor, your hand was trembling and he noticed it. Something in him softened, his icy blue eyes melted just enough for him to hold you around your waist and gaze down at your face,

“It’s okay, pretty girl. My bark and my bite are both nasty, but I won’t harm you.”

His warm body was so close to yours, and with him leaning over you, breathing into your space, you could smell the tobacco scent that lingered in his clothes and beard. His long, braided hair was adorned with gold coins, bent and twisted into it to make little beads, and he had been caramelized by the sun. At the top of his sternum, you could see thick tufts of curly hair poking from his shirt. You tried not to stare. 

“Captain,” you asked as sweetly as you could, “Can you sit, sir, so that I may reach your cheek?”

He smiled, 

“Alright, love.”

He sat on his down mattress. The bed creaked at the addition of his familiar weight. 

At this more convenient angle, you were able to reach his face and neck, so you began your task. You applied the foam in thin layers, working gently as you went, mindful that the captain kept his blades sharp enough to cut steel twine. What you hadn’t realized was that, by requesting that he sit, he was in full, direct eye sight of your heavy breasts. They were corseted up, as was the fashion, but without your normal over-dress to cover you, your nipples ghosted through the thin chemise, hinting at little pebbles beneath the surface. He had not stopped staring at them since you began to shave him. 

You looked down while you were cleaning the blade, trying to discreetly glimpse at his growing passion, curious and fearful all at the same time. His breeches could barely contain him, and his thick phallus pressed into the join of his pants. He caught you staring, and he laughed at your rosy complexion, rolling his eyes,

“Ha! Embarrassed at your thirst, pretty girl? Surely those vagabonds did not leave you a virgin during your ordeal.” 

“They did, sir,” you admitted, returning to your work, sad at having been discovered sinning with your abject perversion. 

He made a small noise, unable to talk while you were shaving his prominent chin, careful around the curve of the bone. He liked to keep the sides long, trimming them with shears, but he always shaved his chin. You followed the razor’s line down his neck, careful not to knick his protruding Adam’s Apple. 

“Is that so?” The captain purred. 

“Yes, sir. At my fiance’s order.”

“Ah, I see.”

He was silent again, his eyes growing hungrier at the sight of you. His hands returned to your hips as the waves tossed the large vessel on the high seas. You stilled, feeling your belly flutter, wondering if it was seasickness or excitement from his newly focused touch.

“You alright, love? Bit choppy tonight. Storm’s brewin’.”

“Oh,” you nodded, finishing with his neck, “There. All finished, Captain.”

He moaned, holding your hips tighter, situating you between his open knees,

“Shame, that. I was enjoying your skillful hand, pretty girl.”

You blushed, setting the razor cleaned back in its case,

“Thank you, Captain Price. And thank you again for your rescue. I would be dead if not for your mercy. I am in your debt.”

“Aye,” the Captain eyed you slyly, “a steep debt at that. Your dowry should solve that for us. Then, you’ll be on your way. When we land in Málaga, your father can pay me.”

“Sir,” you gasped, “I don’t have one. My father took it to the game house and lost it on his cards.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, and you looked down at him in shame, hoping his mercy was deeper than his greed. 

“Hmm, I see. Then, perhaps you would consider a captain as your betrothed?”

You looked up at him in shock, and he was amused by your fear. He used one hand to hold you by the hip, and his other, uninjured hand delicately pulled at the silk ribbon of your bodice, aiming to free you from your painful restraints. 

“Y-y-yes…sir,” you could feel the heat on your cheeks, “My family would be most pleased with such a match.”

“Bugger your family, girl. They left you for dead. If you’re mine, you’ll be only mine. Once I have a bounty in my grasp, there’s not a man on God’s green earth who could take it from me. Does that scare you, girl? Do you want to run off home, turn to the cloth, become a nun instead?”

“No,” you shook your head, “No, sir. I owe you my life, and if it is my hand that you wish, I must oblige you.”

“I wish not your hand, love…” His tone was darkly suggestive, “Well, maybe at first.” He laughed warmly. 

It was a joke that you had missed, but you knew it was your innocence that kept you from divining its meaning. In your core, your body yearned for him. Seeing him command his men, the fiercest swords on the Seven Seas, watching him take down pirates and vagabonds like it made his heart beat in his breast, it was mystifying. His huge muscles and broad bones made his tall figure all the more imposing, and every port you landed in, women swooned over him while the men cowered in fear. Yes, you’d enjoy him as a husband. No one would ever dare lay a hand on you again. 

“What are your terms, Captain, should I accept your proposal?”

He ran a finger into the hole he had created in your leather bodice, letting you feel his warm touch through the thin fabric of your chemise. It electrified you.

“You’ll be mine, and only mine. I’ll be yours, and only yours. When I fill you with my seed, you’ll carry my children, and you’ll love them in earnest. You’ll sail with me, and learn the trade. There’s no comfortable manor house awaiting you, girl. What say you?”

“I agree to your terms, sir. But, I have one of my own.”

“Name it.”

“You’ll not lay a hand to me or our children, no matter the height of your rage.”

“Never. You have my word.”

Looking into his eyes, softened and vulnerable now, he meant it. You felt relief for the first time in weeks. Safe, protected, cared for, and welcomed into his adventures. It was everything you’d dreamed of. All of your childhood friends had dreams of servants and painting rooms and buying linens, while you had wanted to see the world. Here he was, offering it to you. 

“I accept.”

“As do I, love. Now,” he finished removing your corset and bodice top, letting it fall to the floor, “as your husband, I’ll have what I’m owed.”

“Yes, Captain. But, please,” you felt a tear roll away from your wet lashes, “be gentle with me.”

“I promised no such thing,” he said, lowering his mouth to your nipple, sucking it and wetting the silk of your chemise, using his hand to pull down the fabric on your other breast, exposing it to the sea air. 

You gasped, feeling his hot mouth explore your skin, your nipples tightening in the heat of his attentions. He was using his tongue to flick back and forth across the tip of your breast, not caring that you were trembling at every swipe of his tongue or thumb. You moaned, involuntarily, as you felt the sparkle of pleasure rush into your belly, making you wet under your skirts. While you had explored yourself plenty of times to discover the hidden secrets of your body, to have a man - especially such an aggressor like Captain Price - do it, it was so much more exciting. His forbidden fruit made you clench your legs together, upset and tingling within your core. 

“Mmm,” he praised you, “Like that, love?”

“Yes, Captain,” you whispered softly, placing your hands on the back of his neck, rubbing the firm musculature you discovered there. 

“Good girl,” he told you, pinching your nipple cruelly to make you moan again. 

He kissed you then, full and with his long, ravenous tongue, forcing it into your mouth to feel your tongue and throat, the silky skin of your cheek. As he kissed you, he was busy rucking up your skirts, searching for your dripping heat. He found it, and he stilled. Barely moving, he stopped kissing you and looked up into your eyes with his stark blue ones, a look of pure delight on his face. 

“Oh, my stars. There it is. You’ve been hiding it from me. So willing? Tell me the truth. Have you been hungering for me as I have been for you?”

It would not be proper to confess such a thing, even to a man who would be your husband. You shook your head in denial, pressing your lips together to keep from telling the truth. 

“Say it! Tell your naughty thoughts to me, love. This is not the cunt of a frightened girl.”

You blushed, red as a rose, unable to meet his gaze. 

“C’mon, pretty girl,” he moved his finger inside of you then, gently sinking into his drooling sheath, ready to send home his sword to it.

“Y-yes,” your voice was barely audible.

“Yes? What have you been thinking of?” He returned to your nipple, pressing his finger deeper into you, massaging your walls as he explored.

“You…when you fight pirates, sir. You look…”

He chuckled, biting your firm nipple softly, teasing you,

“You like seeing me murdering those devils, do you? In all my days, I never thought I’d find a lass who had a taste for war.”

“Not the war, sir. Just the warrior. You seem to be in command of the chaos, and my body…well, I guess…I am unsure how to describe it.”

He pulled you down to the bed and tossed you on your back, rutting against you with his length, letting his hardness press into your core through his breeches. 

“You like seeing me in charge, hm? Your captain, barking his orders, tossing those traitorous rats into the drink, yeah?”

“Yes, sir,” you confessed, rolling in the broiling pleasure he was building inside of you, his hand knuckle-deep inside of your core. 

“Good,” he said smugly, “Then, I have a command for you.”

You looked up at him, watching him roll your skirt up above your knees, his eyes never leaving your dripping folds. He smiled when he saw it gleam for him. 

“What do you ask of me, my love?”

“Open your legs, girl. Feed yourself to your Captain.”

#call of duty fanfic #cod mw2 #cod mwii #captain john price #captain price #captain price x reader #john price #cod #captain price x you #pirate price

[number-2-bonboy]

Clingy - Zoro x gn!reader (fluff/drabble)

It was one of those rare nights when the two of you had watch duty together. You both had a sort of unspoken agreement to make the most of nights like this. Of course, you did have to look after the ship, but the one time the crew was actually attacked at night the attackers were so weak that Robin and Franky, who were on watch at the time, had taken care of it and nobody even knew until morning, so you weren't too worried about potentially getting attacked.

You sighed in contentment as you strolled along the quiet moonlit deck. It felt refreshing to not have to deal with all the daytime noise of the crew. What with Sanji and Zoro constantly bickering, Luffy screaming his lungs out for whatever reason and Nami scolding the lot of them, it often left you quite exhausted. It was a nice break to see the deck so calm, you thought to yourself as you approached the helm.

Suddenly, you felt a pair of strong arms wrap around your waist. "You're so clingy," you laughed as you leaned comfortably back into Zoro's chest.

Zoro rested his head in the crook of your neck. "I can't help it," he replied grumpily. "We never get any time alone together."

You laughed again, this time giving him a quick peck on his head. "I know... I've missed you."

This seemingly made him even clingier, as he flipped you around to face him, holding onto you even tighter. He mumbled unintelligibly, face buried in your shoulder. Then, suddenly, he stooped down and hoisted you up by your legs, tossing you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. You gasped in surprise. What was this man doing?

You voiced your thoughts. "Zoro, what are you doing? Put me down."

"Nope. We're going up to the crow's nest for some alone time."

"Wh-what?!", you sputtered, feeling your face heat up. He was never this forward.

He sputtered himself. "Not like that, you idiot!", he half-shouted, before quieting down a bit. "I just meant... we can hang out there for a bit."

Content with that, you let him carry you up the rope ladder hanging down the mast. One you were at the crow's nest, Zoro set you down gently on the floor of it. "I'll be right back," he said quietly, not making eye contact. Was that a light blush on his cheeks?

After a few minutes, he returned with a small pile of blankets under one arm. He handed you a blanket, which you took, and sat next to you. Soon, you noticed he was acting rather strangely. In the five minutes you two had been in the crow's nest, he hadn't spoken a word and seemed closed off. He had been staring off into the distance the entire time. Did he not want to be here after all?

You looked at him. "Something wrong?", you asked. "If you're uncomfortable-"

"No," he interrupted. "No, I'm not." Then, more hesitantly, "...this is nice." He turned his head to look at you. You couldn't see very well in the dark, but you could've sworn he was blushing. That's when the realisation hit.

"Oh my god." You could barely believe it. The big strong Zoro, to-be greatest swordsman in the world, behaving like this with you? "Are you being shy?"

This seemingly made him blush even harder, as he quickly looked away with a scowl. "Sh- shut up," he stammered, refusing to make eye contact with you.

"It's okay," you chuckled. "Take your time. I won't push you. We'll go at your pace."

He looked at you, still blushing, and gave you a hint of a smile. "In that case...", he said, then wordlessly opened his arms. Happy to accept the offer, you shuffled closer to him and pressed yourself into his side.

"Is this what you meant by 'alone time' earlier?", you asked, grinning.

"Maybe," he replied quietly but cheekily.

You don't know when you fell asleep. But when you woke up, crimson sunlight was peeking over the hills in the distance, and Zoro was snoring next to your ear. You slept through your watch duty. You quickly got up and looked around the ship from above for any signs of an attack or a burglary. Thankfully, there were none.

You sat back down next to Zoro, who was still fast asleep, and sighed happily. This was comfortable. You were surrounded by people who cared for you, resting next to the man you loved, on the ship you called home. You could stay here forever.

#one piece #zoro #roronoa zoro #zoro x reader #one piece x reader #zoro fic #rorona zoro x reader #zoro fluff #drabble #one piece drabble

[flamingpudding]

Fictober23 Prompt: 15 - "Fine explain it to me."

Fandom: DPxDC

Rating: T

Warnings: Slight shipping but can be seen as platonic too

A/N: Just wanted to mention that I usually am more of a found family themed dpxdc writer but this was a self runner once I started writing until I realised that this could be seen as a ship.

Danny sipped on the champain, he was drinking leaning against the wall. Next to him, also leaning against the wall with crossed arms was Dan glaring at everyone that even remotely tried to approach them. Dani had disappeared into the crowds and Danny was convinced that she had made her way to the buffet table and had found a hiding place with whatever food she had piled up high on a plate. He had seen her do that before.

"How long do these things go?" Dan asked, glaring at someone specifically, Danny knew was a business partner of the fruitloop.

"A couple of hours, usually fruitloop lets us leave around 8 pm." Danny answered easily, surveying the area for any familiar face he might recognize despite knowing he wouldn't. Sam's family wasn't attending this gala and any face he could recognize was probably a business partner of Vlad or someone he had seen on a magazine cover.

"Dile back your glare. Your eyes are glowing red." He offhandedly mentioned to his time-clone-twin taking another sip. Dan only growled at him and looked stubbornly away, though his eyes lost the red color and turned back to a blue.

"How do you and Dani do this shit?"

Danny hummed, museing how things had changed over the past couple of years since Dani and him started to attend these Galas Vlad made them go too. "I hated it at first too. But you weren't socialized enough to attend and Dani used to flat out refuse but we got used to it and found our tactics on how to handle it. Dani usually raids the buffet and finds a hiding place, I just hang with Sam if she is here."

"But she is not." Dan growled, now glaring at a rich kid that had looked like it wanted to approach them but wisely decided to turn tail at Dan's glare. "These stuck up kids are trying to mock us aren't they?"

"Yup." Danny popped the p. "We could always ghost the fruitloop though."

"And have to listen to him lecturing us later? No thanks." Dan's eyes went over the people at this place. He saw Vlad talking to someone he was pretty sure had been on the cover of some tech magazine before but then his eyes stopped on a guy with black hair and blue eyes looking only slightly older than them that was staring at them very intensely.

Dan rammed his elbow into Danny's side, causing the other to wheeze and nearly drop the glass he was holding. The one he had spotted was now on his way to approach them and Dan narrowed his eyes. "You know that guy?"

Danny once he caught his breath again looked up and his eyes widened with recognition. "Shit!"

But before Dan could question the other about that guy, who was now speed walking with a business smile towards them, Danny grabbed him by the elbow and dragged him along with him. "We need to go, like right now."

Dan dragging his feed and making Danny literally drag him along only looked at his phone arching an eyebrow mockingly. "It's not 8 pm yet."

"Text the fruitloop. We are going-"

"Danny, what a pleasure to see you here, I didn't know you attended galas like this." Danny got cut off by the same guy Dan had spotted watching them. He hadn't seen how but somehow that guy had managed to cross the hall before them and block Danny's exit.

Dan heard Danny mutter a distinctive "fuck" before letting go of his elbow and smiling at the guy nervously. "Dick. What a surprise. I didn't know you would be here."

"Dick?" Dan repeated with an arched eyebrow but Danny swiftly stepped on his foot.

"Well Bruce thought it was about time again I attended one of the Galas with him again. You know how it is, don't you?" There was a glint in the other's eyes and Dan eyed him interested, the guy had some dirt on Danny. This was going to be interesting.

"Ah well yea, Vlad asked for me to come along too and someone got to represent my late parents too after all." Danny laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck and clearly avoiding direct eye contact.

"Represent your late parents?"

"Yea funny thing, my parents willed their company to me and-"

"I thought you said you were an engineer working for Dalv.Co? To think I told you about how I am with the Waynes and yet you never mentioned even once to me your relation to Masters." Dan blinked, okay so that guy was a friend Danny had made somehow outside of Sam and Tucker.

"I do! I do, it's just that… well... I can explain!"

"Fine, explain it to me."

Danny appeared to be a flustered mess while this Dick was staring at him with crossed arms. Dan watched them with fascination and a small amount of satisfaction at how Danny fumbled with his words. He then felt a tuck at his side and locked down to find Dani offering him popcorn.

"That's Dick Greyson." Something suddenly clicked for Dan and he smirked down at Dani.

"The guy that's teaching your Gymnastic course that Danny always volunteers to take you too?"

Dani nodded once more and now also sporting a mischievous smile.

#fictober23 #danny fenton #danny phantom #dp x dc #dpxdc #dcxdp #crossover #dick grayson #dan phantom #dani phantom #vlad master #Danny might have a crush on Dick #He meet him through Dani's gymnastics course Dick is voluntary teaching #They do not know about each others secret identities #Danny forgot that Dick was a Wayne and can appear at galas too #He had kept his relation to Vlad a secret

[halfvalid]

the blade daughter, pt. 2

ABOUT

pt. 1 | pt. 2 | pt. 3

alternate title: dracule mihawk cures your daddy issues!

rating: mature

characters: live action!roronoa zoro | fem!reader | live action!dracule mihawk | live action!straw hat ensemble

pairing: live action!roronoa zoro x fem!reader

word count: 23.6k total | 8k this part

description: after joining the straw hats on board the going merry, you're confused as to what to do with your life from now—and you can't help but get closer to zoro.

tags: mihawk's daughter!reader, female reader, canon-typical violence, cursing, no use of 'y/n', pet names per mihawk ('dear', 'darling', 'sweetheart', 'little hawk'), emotional hurt/comfort, slow burn, patching of wounds

author’s note: second chapter! i hope you like it <3 out of the three this one's probably my favorite personally, i really like the wound-stitching scene & i think it's one of the best scenes ive ever written. i'm suchhh a slut for the patching up of wounds trope.

You rose before the sun, careful to pack your belongings all in one sack. Considering the very little amount you’d brought, it was a relatively easy task—leaving the sloop would be fine, too, as you paid for the slip for a few months longer at least. Your father had so many ships across so many seas it hardly mattered much anymore. 

You double-checked that you had all of your things before shutting down and leaving the sloop, consulting some of the dock men to transfer a boat lift under the berth. You moved carefully across the east port, making quick time as you returned to the Straw Hats’ ship in slip fifty-two. 

There were apparent signs of life when you reached the ship, even with the sky cast over in dark hues of navy. All of the dead bodies had been removed, for one, and dock men were loading barrels up on the deck while Sanji watched over them. His expression brightened as his gaze fell across you. 

“Lady Dracule!” he called out, slipping off from the barrel on which he’d been perched to meet you at the pier. You gave him an unimpressed look. 

“I have a name, you know.” 

“Oh, I wasn’t aware of that,” Sanji answered, a lopsided grin pulling up the side of his face. You rolled his eyes and introduced yourself, which only prompted a brighter smile and a steady pat of his hand on your back. “A fine name, for a fine woman.” 

“Sanji, stop flirting with the crew.” You glanced up to see Nami, one hip cocked to the side with her hand on her waist, staring down with an exasperated glint in her eye. “Welcome aboard the Going Merry. Sorry I was a little grouchy last night. I don’t like having my sleep interrupted.” She leaned down to offer you her hand, and you took it, climbing aboard the ship. 

“The Going Merry?” 

“Fits it, don’t you think?” Sanji asked from behind you. Nami eyed him again, volume dropping as she tilted her head towards yours. 

“He’ll quit with the sweet talk eventually. I’ll give you a tour once we’ve cast off. We’re just waiting for Zoro to get back from town, and then we’re all set.” She turned to bark out another few orders to Sanji— “Finish up with the crates already!” 

“Anything you want, madam,” Sanji said with a little bow. Nami let out a long-suffering sigh. 

“Luffy already prepared a room for you. I’ll show you to it.” She led you below deck, back towards the ship’s aft. There was a collection of rooms all crammed together, one beside the other. “These are the women’s quarters. Men’s’ are all the way at the front of the ship.” She nodded behind her. “You get this one here. Sorry, it’s small.” 

She opened the door to the very last room, and you stepped inside, surveying your surroundings. It wasn’t much; the cabin barely scraped by as a room, consisting of only a wardrobe, a hanging bed, and a small table and chair stuck in the corner. A round window at the very edge of the room revealed the water just a mere few feet below. 

“It’ll do fine, thank you,” you said. Your room back at home was far more ornate, but you’d never been picky. 

“You can sleep for a few more hours,” Nami said, lingering by the cabin mouth. “Come find me when you’re ready for a tour. We should be setting off in a few moments, if Zoro’s back.”

You gave her a smile, and she left, the patter of her footsteps dying off as she walked further and further away. 

It didn’t take you long to get arranged, and afterwards, you gingerly sat down on the bed, the rope tied to the ceiling causing it to sway under you. You were still uncertain about boarding the ship, but you couldn't exactly return to your sloop now. And it wasn’t the worst idea in the world, you tried to convince yourself. 

You felt the ship start moving just a few moments later, and you stood up, walking across the rocking ship to get up to the deck. You were making fast time, Loguetown’s silhouette rapidly getting swallowed in the gulp of the horizon. 

Nami was bickering with Zoro and Luffy when you found her. “What even took you so long? We were due to leave a half-hour ago.” 

“I was getting new swords,” Zoro said calmly. Nami eyed him, then yanked something out of his hand. A wallet, it looked like, stuffed with bills of berry. “You can’t be mad at me. I spent less than half of your budget.” 

“They scammed you,” Nami scoffed, eyeing the katanas at Zoro’s hip. Zoro simply shrugged. “A sword for free? It’s probably made of plastic.” 

Zoro snorted. “I’d be able to tell.” 

Nami cast him a look, gaze unimpressed under the line of her eyelashes. “You can’t tell the difference between a ship mast and a tree.” 

“Yeah, but I know swords.” 

“Oh, hey!” Luffy, who’d seemed tuned out of his crewmates’ conversation, said as he spotted you. “Glad to see you here. Officially part of the crew.” 

“Oh, well…” you hesitated. “Not so sure if I’ll be joining you forever.” Luffy looked confused by that, but not particularly offended—Nami and Zoro had turned to watch you, too, argument dying on trembling legs. “Right now the plan is to help you get to the Grand Line. From there you can drop me home. And then we’ll part ways.” 

“If you change your mind…” Luffy trailed off, then patted you on the shoulder. “Nami, were you going to show her around?” 

“I was, but I’ve got some mapping to do.” Nami glanced over at Zoro. “Hey. Make yourself useful.” 

“I hate you,” Zoro muttered. He brushed past you, just barely motioning with his head for you to follow. “Afterdeck.” 

You stepped into the small space. It was easily the most secluded place on the ship deck, decorated with three young tangerine trees in white boxy planters. “I like your trees.” 

“They’re Nami’s trees.” Zoro gestured with his head again, and you followed him. The tour was brief; Zoro didn’t have much to say, generally just showing you a room before telling you what it was and departing for the next area. 

You were about halfway through the tour when Zoro spoke again, the words abrupt in his throat. He spat them out rather than spoke them, and you got the impression he’d been mulling over talking for a while— “You ever beat your dad in combat?” 

You snorted. “No.” 

Zoro didn’t look at you, opting instead to push through the next doorway and gesture vaguely around him to show you the surroundings. “Gotten close?” 

“Never.” You shrugged. “He taught me the basics, but I wasn’t the best student. He’d try to be strict and everything, but… sword fighting isn’t really my thing. You’re probably better than me.” 

Zoro gazed at you skeptically. “He taught you.” 

“Yeah.” 

“Do you—” He paused, mouth open for a moment before resuming his sentence. He didn’t sound particularly hesitant, but the pause had you stifling a smile anyway, knowing he was at least a little bit flustered. “We should train together.” 

“Was that a question?” 

“Not really.” Zoro’s lip quirked, one side of his mouth tugging upwards in an odd semblance of a smile. He didn’t seem the type to smile often, though, so it didn’t look out of ordinary on his face. “Have you seen enough of the ship yet, or do you want me to show you the bilge too?” 

“I’m good, thanks,” you answered primly. “Now did you want to fight me or not?” 

Zoro actually smiled at that. 

You decided to train on the main deck, in an area wide enough to not bump into anyone else. You shed your jacket, pulling Hiru out of its scabbard. Zoro winced as the sun hit the silver blade, reflecting a blinding gleam off its surface. “That a stylistic choice?” 

“I polish things when I get anxious,” you answered. “So not really.” 

“Right.” Zoro untied a black bandana from where it was fixed on his bicep, fingers working fluidly against the knot. Once he got it untied, he wrapped it around his head, tying it carefully around his head. Afterwards, he slid one of his swords out of its scabbard, holding it with his fingers to follow with the other. “How low should my expectations be?” 

“I don’t know, you tell me,” you answered. Zoro let a soft sound out through his mouth, but he said no more, transferring one sword to each hand. He moved carefully, arms arching over his head to lower to each of his sides. You lifted Hiru up, more casual in your movements than Zoro was. 

You paid more attention to Zoro than the actual fight when you started moving. You figured you’d have time to genuinely practice later—you hadn’t kept a close eye on the swordsman in the battle against the pirate hunters, and your curiosity was eating at you. Zoro was all angles when he fought, elbows lifted and limbs pin-straight. That wasn’t to say there was no flexibility in his movements, though—he dodged your oncoming attacks easily, sidestepping with a light twist of the torso so your blade cut air instead of flesh. 

Just a few seconds in you could tell Zoro was far, far better than you. You parried one of his attacks, gasp ripping from your throat as you just barely managed to block off a slash from his katana with Hiru. He spun towards you, careful not to actually cut as his blade came for the throat. You managed to dodge just in time, moving backwards with a quick patter of your feet against the wooden deck. 

There was barely anything skewed in his motions, you were soon to realize. He was perfect in every sense of the word. Your styles were vastly different, of course—Zoro mainly relied on his blades, and his physicality was carefully practiced, no curves or bends apparent in the straight lines and slants of his body. In comparison, you were much more slippery, focusing mainly on your agility to carry you throughout a fight rather than your strength. 

“Your elbow,” Zoro said. You barely managed to respond, letting out a grunt of effort as you blocked Zoro’s oncoming attack. 

“Hm?”

Zoro’s katana came from the left. He used the other one to knock your arm up, nearly gentle in his movements, and you were reminded of how Mihawk used to train you—stopping mid-fight to reposition your limbs, using his sword to carefully push your hands in the right places. “You’re dropping it.” 

“I don’t care much for angles,” you answered, ducking under Zoro’s incoming blade and sliding off to the side instead of trying to shove against it. Zoro seemed startled by that, struck off-balance as he stumbled, turning to face you. 

You jerked your sword towards him, one leg coming up to shove against his torso whilst doing so. You managed to knock him fully off-balance then, and he staggered against his feet, teetering precariously backwards. “Your center of gravity is screwed.” 

“You dad kept flinging me around the pier,” Zoro said. You raised your brows, the phrase nonsensical to your ears. But it did sound like Mihawk. “It run in the family?”

“Very funny.” You dodged another slash of Zoro’s swords. “The only thing I picked up well in our lessons was about keeping balance.” 

“And dodging, apparently.” You snickered at that, parrying another one of Zoro’s attacks—but it was getting harder and harder, what with the immense strength of his body you simply couldn’t keep up with. As flexible as you were, you weren’t quick enough this time, and Zoro swept you off your feet so you fell to the ground, wind bursting out of your chest all in one rush. Hiru clattered a few feet away, your fingers unfolding from their grip and letting it move freely.

Zoro slid his swords back in their sheaths, letting them close with a satisfying click. “You fight too defensively.”

You lay there for a moment, trying to gather air back into your lungs. “Never found a point in attacking others, really.” You got up, straightening your shirt before bending over to pick Hiru up from the floor. “Good fight.” 

“Yeah,” Zoro said, but his voice was weak, tapering off to blend in with the wind. He had an uncertain look on his face, big brown eyes all fuzzy around the edges, like there was some cloudlike film covering him from seeing properly. You frowned at him. 

“Is that because I’m worse or better than you expected?” you asked, gesturing vaguely up at his expression. Zoro blinked, the fog over his eyes clearing as he glanced down to meet your gaze. You waited expectantly, but he didn’t say anything. “Zoro?” you prompted. 

“Sorry,” Zoro said. “I’m—I’m going to go to my cabin.” 

You watched him leave, growing more quizzical by the second. Well, you’d gotten what you’d come there for, anyway. Roronoa Zoro was a great swordsman. And he certainly had the potential to be the greatest in the world, too—a realization that shook you a little, heart trembling from where it was fixed in your chest cavity. You swallowed hard, mind replaying the firm motions of his body from the fight. He’d been confident, sure of himself. You had even forgotten he still hosted Yoru’s slash along his torso from just a week or so prior, he’d been so… perfect. 

“He’s good, huh?” 

You startled, turning to see Usopp sitting atop a pile of crates like a king on a throne. He was picking at his fingernails. “Zoro,” he clarified. “Best swordsman in the East Blue.” 

“Yeah,” you said, glancing over at where Zoro had left. “He is.” 

Usopp eyed you for a moment. “Your shell phone is ringing.”

You startled, patting down your figure before finally unearthing your phone from where it was tucked safely away in your pocket. You opened it, pushing the den den mushi in your ear as it vibrated, little mouth making soft rumbling sounds to catch your attention. Usopp clearly didn’t know a thing about privacy, though, because he kept watching even as you picked up— “Hello?” 

“Back home yet, darling?” Mihawk asked over the line, and you relaxed, your entire body going slack with comfort as you heard the familiar low hum of your father’s voice. “I figured you’d go back as quickly as possible.” 

“No, actually,” you said. “Luffy roped me into coming aboard his ship.” 

You could practically see Mihawk’s brows lift up in surprise. “You joined the Straw Hat pirate’s crew?” 

“No. They’re bringing me home. I’m helping them get to the Grand Line,” you corrected. Mihawk hummed, the sound a crackle of monotony through the den den mushi’s mouth. 

“And why, pray tell, would you do that?” 

You chewed at your bottom lip, glancing off the side of the Going Merry to the East Blue. The sun had risen fully, fixing itself in a warm beam in the sky. “I was curious about Roronoa Zoro. You never told me why you left him alive. Or why you let Luffy go.” You could still feel Usopp’s gaze on you while you spoke, and you just knew he’d be telling the rest of his crew this after your conversation finished. “So I wanted to figure out your reasoning.” 

“Ah,” Mihawk said. “Has he healed from Yoru’s wound yet?”

“It’s not like I tore off his shirt to check, dad,” you muttered. Mihawk barked out a laugh, and you startled at the sound before settling down again. “He walks fine. I saw bandages.” 

Mihawk seemed pleased by that. “Wonderful. He’s a hardy one. You should fight him.”

“Already did,” you answered. “He beat me.”

Mihawk considered that for a moment. “Eh, I saw that coming.”

You scoffed. “You have no faith in me. Where are you now?” 

“South Blue, still,” Mihawk replied. “Are you at least enjoying yourself there? It’ll be good for you to make friends, sweetheart. You don’t get much social interaction other than me and the villagers, after all.” 

“I’m not here to make friends, I’m here to get a ride home,” you said insistently, but your voice was weak, and Mihawk clearly didn’t believe you. Your mind wandered back to Zoro—the firm muscle of his body, the hushed tone he spoke in, and you found your face pinkening. “One of them—one of them wants to kill you. That’s his entire life’s purpose. To murder you.” 

“I think you’re being a tad bit broad, darling,” Mihawk said with a click of his tongue. “You seem rather enamored with this particular young swordsman. Something to say?” 

“I—” your words fumbled in your mouth, and you were certain you were entirely pink now, the sun’s glowing rays only making your face warmer than it was rapidly turning. “Stop. I’m hanging up now.”

Mihawk’s voice was tastefully dry when he responded. “I’m sure.”

“Shut up, old man,” you grumbled. 

“Right. Remember the rule, dear,” Mihawk trilled, and despite his voice being as monotone as ever, you could still identify the undertones of it—laced with syrupy mocking, all teasing and dramatic. “No dating unless he can beat you in combat!” 

You actually did hang up this time, practically tearing the den den mushi out of your ear. You huffed out an irritated breath, rubbing a circle into the shell of your snail as an apology just a moment later. “Sorry,” you murmured. “My dad’s a bitch.” 

The snail just let out a little grumble in response. You tucked it back into its case and snapped the phone shut. 

“Aw, we’re not allowed to say hi?” You spun around at the new voice, glaring upon seeing Sanji and Luffy having joined Usopp in his eavesdropping. Sanji bore a gigantic grin on his face. “Sounded like an interesting conversation.” 

“None of you know what boundaries are,” you muttered, but it was light-hearted. 

You didn’t see Zoro until suppertime, a fact that rang odd in your head. It seemed like he’d completely evaporated from the ship, disappearing around every corner as you spent the rest of the day getting to know the rest of the crew better. Something had happened, but you weren’t exactly sure what—and you weren’t exactly sure if you were close enough to him to even ask, yet. 

Sanji had cooked up a dinner so fine you doubted it could even quality as ship food. From your time traveling with your father, rations on-board hadn’t been much of anything—a few scraps of bread or dried meat, old apples, perhaps some fish if you were lucky. Mihawk hadn’t the biggest priority on eating well, but the Straw Hat crew seemed to have the exact opposite opinion. You were served a bowl of miso soup along with a bowl of rice, and dishes of tofu and oyster sauce stir-fried vegetables were carefully laid out all across the table. 

“Bon appétit,” Sanji said, taking a half-bow before slipping into the last seat around the table. “I hope it’s to your liking. Yours especially, Lady Dracule.” He gave you a little wink at that. You just stared at him. 

“I thought I told you my name.”

“Well, you did, but I thought Lady Dracule had a nice ring to it.” 

“It doesn’t,” you said. Nami stifled a snort, the hand not holding her chopsticks coming up to cover her mouth. Sanji didn’t look the slightest bit dissuaded. You turned your attention on Zoro, who hadn’t spoken a word throughout the whole meal. He was rather studiously focused on his bowl, eyes picking apart the grains of rice like they’d reveal the world’s greatest secrets. 

Carefully, you leaned towards Nami, voice coming out in a hushed whisper. “Is he okay?” 

“He gets like that sometimes,” Nami answered, her words drowned out by Usopp and Luffy’s cheerful conversation. “Nobody can crack him except for Luffy. I’d just leave him be.” 

“You don’t know why?” 

Nami just shrugged. “Hell, we’re all depressed sometimes. Not within my rights to question him.”

You nodded, but your gaze didn’t move away from Zoro’s figure. There was a particular squeezing sensation deep in your chest—a little flip-flop thing, a sort of panging you couldn’t quite place. He glanced up, dark eyes meeting yours for just a fraction of a second. But he didn’t flinch away. He just returned your gaze, strong and unblinking. 

To your surprise, Zoro was the first to look away, craning his neck to study his bowl again and continuing on like your extended bout of eye contact hadn’t even happened. You watched him, dumbstruck, until Nami nudged you in the shoulder. The rest of the group’s idle chatter had died down, and Usopp and Sanji were staring at you, low murmurs falling out of their mouths. You cleared your throat, finally dropping your gaze from the green-haired swordsman and attempting to ignore the fact everyone had caught you staring. 

You didn’t do much of anything after supper—you just returned to your cabin, carefully walking across the creaking boards of the ship. Luffy assigned you mid watch, so you had a few hours to sleep before waking up at midnight to look out for any enemies. 

You couldn’t find yourself falling asleep even after you’d slipped into bed. You’d changed, a loose blouse light against your skin, black silk shorts grazing your thighs. It was cold out, so you shrugged on a robe as you headed out into the darkness of the Going Merry. You emerged out on the deck, taking in a breath of the night air as you glanced to see who had the night watch. 

Just your luck. It was Zoro. 

He seemed tranquil, lounging across a hammock with his white sword—the Wado Ichimonji—cradled in his arms. In the dim light you couldn’t see if his eyes were open or closed, but as you got closer, he cracked one of them open, a gleam reflecting off his right iris. “Hi,” you said, moving over to the side of the ship to watch the waves on the water. 

Zoro didn’t deign to respond, so you just stood there, watching the sea lap at the side of the ship until eventually the hour struck twelve. Zoro left soundlessly. You stayed awake all throughout your watch until Usopp came to relieve you of your duties. 

Zoro was avoiding you. 

A few days had passed since you first boarded the Going Merry. They hadn’t been of much interest—just days of practicing with your sword and chatting with the crew, for the most part. You helped around the ship, completing various tasks apparently none of the members knew or cared enough to do. You were just emerging from the bilge, having done basic maintenance to ensure everything was working properly, when you bumped into him. The man was apparently taking a nap, though you couldn’t figure out why the storage area was a very good place to sleep. Still, he seemed comfortable enough, long body splayed along a grouping of crates. 

“Hi,” you said, for what seemed like the hundredth time over a few days. Zoro just averted his gaze and let out a little grunt in response. You stared at him for a moment. The realization had dawned on you ever since the first day, but it was growing more and more apparent, and you were baffled as to what you’d done to incur the silent treatment. 

“Hi,” you repeated, more purposefully this time.

“Hey,” Zoro said, though the word was clearly bitter in his mouth. You propped your hands on your hips and stared down at him. 

“You’re avoiding me.” 

Zoro closed his eyes, expression not even changing. “You’re not that special.”

“Ever since we fought that one time, you’ve been ignoring me,” you barreled on, entirely ignoring his quip. Zoro cocked a brow, eyes still closed, and you glared down at it. “I’d like to know why.” 

“Why do you care? We’re not friends.” 

“Isn’t it natural to want to know why someone is mad at you?” you demanded, perplexed. Zoro sighed then, shifting around on his boxes. 

“I’m not mad at you.” You heaved out a sigh even more irritated than Zoro’s. Your experience in the realm of dealing with close-lipped men’s personal issues was, unfortunately, rather well-seasoned. You’d had to coax situations out of your father, one hand pressed against Yoru’s hilt to prevent Mihawk from lashing out his frustrations rather than explaining them. But that didn’t mean you were all too fond of it. 

“Okay, well, why else would you be ignoring me then?” 

Zoro’s response was annoyingly frank. “It’s not really any of your business.” 

You pursed your lips, trying to suppress the irritated noise that threatened to burst from your throat. “I don’t like being on bad terms with people,” you started. “If I did something to piss you off, I’d very much like it if you—” 

The floor slipped out from underneath you before you could finish your sentence. You fell with a graceless clatter, lurching forward into the stack of crates Zoro was leaning on, words dying on your tongue. The entire boat trembled, quivering from side to side as if the ocean waves had suddenly propelled a thousand more ripples at its surface.

Zoro sat immediately up, one hand pushing you off of him as he scrambled off the crates. “What was that?” 

“I don’t—” Just a moment after regaining your balance, there was another dull thud and a row of quivers. You remained steady this time, glancing carefully around you before you and Zoro were both hurrying up towards the ship deck. The Going Merry was in chaos when you emerged, Nami at the helm while Sanji was firing up a cannon beside her. 

“What’s going on?” you demanded, the tails of your coat lapping around your calves as you hurried up besides Luffy. 

“Pirates,” Luffy said grimly, nodding towards a ship that was quickly gaining on you. “They blew through the stern railing. Do any of you recognize the jolly roger?” 

You glanced up, taking in the billowing sail boasting a pure-white jolly roger with a top hat and mustache. “Nope. These things are getting more and more ridiculous,” you muttered. 

“Yeah,” Luffy agreed, affronted. “Ours is way better.” 

You turned your gaze up at the Straw Hat crew’s aforementioned jolly roger. “...No comment.” 

“We can’t outrun them!” Nami shouted from her place at the helm. Sanji had successfully nailed a cannonball into the railing of the oncoming ship, but they had a dozen more men. “I’m going to try to get closer. Best chance we have is one-on-one combat.” She turned to fix the small grouping with a glare. “Don’t just stand there. Get to it!” 

You launched into action, hurrying to climb up the rigging to get a better view as Nami veered hard to starboard. The enemy ship had dropped their cannons, and you could see them preparing to board the Merry, grabbing onto loose ropes of rigging. “They’re going to swing over,” you reported, watching as the ship tilted in your direction, gaining on you. “I see maybe two or three dozen men.” 

You hesitated, glancing around at the rather stationary crew around you. Your lip tugged between your teeth, and you stood there for a moment, unspoken words heavy on your tongue. You could see the captain yelling out orders on the ship across from you, and you turned abruptly, fixing Sanji with a look. 

“Sanji, trade with Usopp. I want you to nail a cannon at their port stern.” 

“W—What? Me?” Usopp stuttered. You nodded. 

“I want Sanji on the frontlines. That should be close enough now.” You gazed out at the rapidly thinning gap between the two ships. One final cannonball whizzed towards, and you ducked, watching as it just brushed the side of the Merry. The ship rocked, and you tightened your grip on the rigging, satisfied to see it’d barely left a mark. 

“They’re coming over,” Sanji reported, and you nodded, sliding Hiru out from your scabbard as enemy pirates started swinging over on ropes. Luffy was the first to react, an arching, rubbery limb catching one of them midair and yanking them down into the ocean. Boots thudded on the ground as the enemy pirates landed aboard the Going Merry. 

“Time for a fight,” Zoro murmured, barely audible from your left. You jumped down from the rigging, sword coming down to crash against one of the enemy pirates. He reacted slowly, pistol cocking towards your chest—but you just brushed it to the side with Hiru, cutting it straight out his hand and following up with a flurry of sword thrusts. 

Besides you, you saw Sanji sliding into battle, spinning on his palms to deliver a mean right hook to someone’s jawbone. An audible crack pierced the air, and you winced, breezing backwards on your feet as two pirates closed in on you. 

Luffy seemed to have engaged in a one-on-one with the enemy captain, who was easily identifiable due to the gigantic top hat perched upon his head. He had thick black hair tied neatly back in a ponytail, and a mustache and beard to match. A thick cutlass was tightened in one fist, thrusted towards Luffy—but every sweep was dodged with unbelievable bends of the torso. 

You turned your attention away, whipping your sword at the pirates that surrounded you. Hiru clashed with their blades, gleaming silver scraping against theirs. You leaned forward, and the blade before you broke with the pressure, sword snapping under Hiru’s will. 

The sword dropped out of the pirate’s hand, and you took the opportunity to pull your leg up, kicking him squarely in the jaw. The other lunged for you, and your fist dug into their torso, hands gripping tight to their belt. You bent over, twisting into his body to push him over your shoulder in a sweeping throw. 

He fell to the floor all in one, and you landed a kick to his chest just to ensure he wouldn’t get up again. Another man—bigger, this time, probably half your width and inches taller—gunned for you. 

You sidestepped him easily, agility tilting in your favor as you escaped his grasp. It was harder to take this one down—while you could dodge him well enough, and parry his oncoming attacks, he was simply too strong to compete with. Strength isn’t everything, little hawk, Mihawk would always tell you. Everyone has a weakness. Get them off balance. Use your points. 

The man delivered a stinging left hook to your torso, and you gasped. He took the opportunity to grab onto your wrist, grip so tight you couldn’t move your hand. Hiru clattered out from between your fingers. You directed a hit with your elbow towards the pirate’s sternum, but it was oddly-placed, and he just sneered down at you. 

One of his large fists rose to thud against your skull, and you braced for impact, but the blow never landed. A warm squishing sound of a sword against skin made your entire body shudder, and you turned to stare as your assailant’s head slid cleanly off of his neck. 

Zoro was behind him when his body collapsed, sword slick with blood as he spun it lazily around in a hand. “Careful,” he said. 

You gaped up at him for merely a second more before you realized your jaw was ajar. You flushed, bending over to fish Hiru up from the floor. “I was fine.” 

Zoro just thrust his sword cleanly into the torso of an incoming pirate, eyes not breaking away from yours. He slid it out with a sickening sound, flicking the blood off the blade with a motion of his hand. “A thank you might be nice.”

“Behind you,” you said instead, but Zoro was already reacting. You watched him, an incurable sigh perched on the tip of your tongue. He was good. He was really, really good, and you didn’t know how to feel about it. “Is that most of them?” 

“I think—” Zoro cut himself off, glancing over his shoulder as you both hear the familiar yell of Luffy’s voice screaming out one of his final moves. You both watched, soundless, as his foot smashed into the top hat pirate’s face, flinging him all the way across the water straight into the mast of his own ship. Only mere seconds later did the mast crack, the wooden pole falling down in a glorious, wooden heap. 

“...Yeah, we’re fine.” Zoro said. He leaned down, grabbing the shirt of one of the fallen pirates to wipe his blade with before sliding it back in its scabbard. “Let’s get out of here.” 

“On it.” Nami snapped her bo staff closed—when she’d jumped down into the battle, you were unsure, but she was already returning to her place at the helm. “Toss these bodies off our boat, would you, Zoro?” 

“Right.” Zoro bent over, easily picking up the fallen pirate and chucking the corpse overboard without another thought. You watched him the entire time, the strain of his biceps against his skin forming solid ridges up his arms. 

“I can clean your swords,” you said, words a bit too late out of your mouth. Zoro glanced up, brow creased. “While you’re doing that.” 

Zoro looked uncertain, but he unstrapped the scabbards from his hip, handing the twin katanas to you. You took them, glancing over his figure again. He moved with difficulty, and while you’d originally thought that was because of the bodies’ weight, you now saw the real reason. Lines of crimson were seeping through his shirt, a pool by the left side of his lower abdomen the biggest injured site. You took an involuntary step forward. “You’re hurt.”

“I can treat them later,” Zoro said dismissively. “Gotta clean up the Merry first.” 

“No, mosshead, the lady is right,” Sanji said. You startled, not having noticed him slip up beside you. “Usopp and I can manage with waste control, eh?” He winked. “Go clean up.” 

Zoro glared at him, the look dripping with malice, but he didn’t argue past that. “Fine,” he said, chucking another body—this one alive—off the side of the ship before straightening. You heard the hitch in his breath as he spoke, along with the near-imperceptible wince of his face. “You good, Luffy?” 

“A little hungry,” Luffy responded truthfully. He was still watching the other ship. Fire had started aboard it, and soft billows of black smoke drifted in the air. “Can you cook something up later, Sanji?” 

“Got it,” Sanji said. “Tell your first mate to patch up his wound before he bleeds out all over our beautiful deck.” 

“The deck isn’t beautiful, it’s got blood and guts all over it,” Zoro muttered. 

“Well, have a little respect and don’t add to the mess.” Sanji fixed him with a stern look. Zoro bared his teeth at him in a grimace, extracting a sharp little laugh out of your throat. His eyes brushed over yours, a glimmer of surprise dancing in his irises, before he ducked inside. 

“Why are you following me?” Zoro asked flatly, as you entered the cabin he’d gone into. You’d hastened to keep up with him, only a few steps behind before finding the room he’d gone into. Zoro had propped himself up on the hanging bed, loosening the ties of his wrap shirt to expose his bare chest. 

“I was wondering if you needed any help with your wounds.” You deposited Zoro’s swords, along with Hiru, on the table in the room, moving closer to him to survey the scene. “If you wanted it.” 

Zoro’s gaze met yours, and he said nothing for a moment. “First aid kit’s over there,” he finally said, nodding to the table. You moved towards it, opening up the small box to expose supplies of bandages, needles, stitch string, and disinfectant inside. You carried the box over to the bed, sanitizing your hands before carefully parting the folds of Zoro’s shirt. The cloth stuck to skin, coagulating blood making the shirt peel rather than move. Now that his entire torso was bared, though, you could fully inspect his wounds. There were still bandages from Yoru’s cut, all dirtied up now from his other injuries—you’d have to take them off and re-dress them, so he’d be in the bed for thirty minutes at least. 

You turned your attention to the cut by Zoro’s abdomen, deciding it was the most important thing to focus on. The cut wasn’t too deep, but it was gushing a steady flow of blood, and you picked up a towel to press against the wound. “Hold,” you instructed, and Zoro’s fingers brushed against yours as he took a hold of the cloth. “Thanks. I’ve got to take your bandages off, then I’ll clean and dress all the wounds. That one down there might need stitches.” 

“How do you know how to do this?” Zoro asked, watching as you unwrapped the previous bandages from around his chest. You were careful to touch his skin as little as possible, distracting yourself with the blood and gauze. 

“My dad,” you answered. You’d spent too many late nights patching up a wound Mihawk had brushed off as unimportant, only to wind up bleeding out on your couch. Zoro raised a brow. 

“Dracule Mihawk gets injured?” 

“Of course he does,” you said with a huff. “Don’t be stupid. He’s a man, just like the rest of you.” The gash from Yoru had fully scabbed over, revealing a long, trembling crust of dark ochre. You finished peeling off all the bandages, and cast them to the side. 

“You know a lot.” 

“Jack of all trades, master of none,” you quipped. You moved away from the desk to fill a bucket with warm water, dipping a cloth into it and squeezing out the excess. You dabbed around Yoru’s scab with the cloth, careful not to break the shell while still cleaning it of any extra gunk. Then you focused on flushing out the other wounds, wiping across his skin and getting all the little nicks on his chest and arms. Zoro didn’t say a word, but you could feel his eyes boring into your skull, watching you with a hardened intensity that made your insides churn. 

You nudged his hand away, examining the big cut. The rag he was holding had filled up with blood, white cotton dyed red and sodden with liquid. Thankfully, the bleeding seemed to have lessened. You wiped up all the last of it with your towel, swiping it against the pills of blood that had caught along the waistband of his trousers. Zoro hissed as you came into contact with the wound. “Sorry,” you murmured. 

“Why are you apologizing?”

You frowned at that. “Because it hurt?” 

“I thought you were mad at me,” Zoro said stiffly. You raised your brows. “Since… you thought I was annoyed at you, or whatever.”

“Just because you feel a certain kind of way towards me doesn’t mean I reciprocate the same feelings,” you answered, setting aside your towel after deciding everything had been cleaned out well enough. You picked up another cloth, dabbing this one with some alcohol to disinfect the wound. “This is going to sting,” you warned. 

Zoro’s jaw clenched, teeth grinding against each other as you flushed out the wound. His torso clenched, and your eyes fell across his exposed midriff, watching the tight skin that was seemingly sculpted into muscles. You glanced away just a moment later, a dusting of warmth brushing over your cheeks. “On that topic,” you hastened to say, trying to distract yourself from the half-naked man in front of you, “Why were you avoiding me?” 

Zoro let out a sigh, the sound stuttered as he clenched his jaw again when you brushed your towel against his wound. You waited, taking out a fresh cloth to dab at the other nicks on his body. You examined the wound near his left side again. “Stitches.” 

“Great,” Zoro muttered. You ignored him, searching in the kit for some needle and thread. “Can you take the stitches out from your dad’s yet?” 

“Ha ha. You’re going to need those for a few more weeks,” you said, without even looking at the scab to check. “Ask me again later. Yoru cuts are deadly.” 

Zoro let his eyes flutter closed. “It’s a great sword.” 

“Yeah, it is,” you said. You paused from where you were threading the needle, glancing up at Zoro’s face now that you knew he couldn’t catch you staring. He looked so peaceful in this state, eyelashes splayed along his cheeks, dark umber freckles that you hadn’t noticed before splattered across his face. There were dozens of them, skin sun-worn and bearing the marks as proof—constellations of dark brown stars, so similar to his warm, glowing skin it was easy to miss. A five-o’-clock shadow traced around his mouth, and at his left ear, his golden earrings gleamed bright. 

“I don’t feel anything,” Zoro said, and you snapped out of your reverie, fingers fumbling to finish threading your needle. 

“Patience is a virtue, you know,” you hissed. Zoro snorted.

“Yeah, one I don’t have.” You rolled your eyes, tying off the string and bending down to examine the cut again. It wasn’t too wide—maybe five or six stitches at most. You gave Zoro no warning except for the light brush of your fingers against the wound, and he hissed again. 

You glanced up. “Do you want something to bite on?”

“I’m not a toddler,” Zoro sneered. You mouthed his words mockingly, though you didn’t actually speak them, not wanting him to catch you doing such an immature action. You fixed your gaze back on the wound, free hand resting flat against Zoro’s abdomen to steady you—his skin was warm under your palm, and you expected him to say something, but to your surprise, he didn’t even flinch. 

The first puncture came carefully. Zoro hissed, the sound of a low rumble in his throat as you felt his abdomen clench under your palm. You forced yourself to continue, pulling the thread fully through the skin before moving onto the other side of the wound. You did it again, carefully to keep the string untangled as it ran through Zoro’s flesh. 

“It wasn’t because I was mad at you,” Zoro said abruptly, and you paused, glancing up to look at Zoro’s face. His eyes were still closed, brows contorted tight and mouth bared down into a grimace. “Don’t stop. I wasn’t avoiding you because I was angry. Or because of anything you did.” 

“Why, then?” you asked, lowering your head to continue with your stitches. Zoro took in a sharp breath at the next one, the edges of a scream cutting into his breath but not fully escaping from his throat. You were rubbing a comforting circle into his stomach before you could stop yourself—muscle memory from patching up your dad’s wounds. You swallowed hard, but didn’t stop the motions—Zoro didn’t seem offended by them. 

His voice was raggedy when he spoke again. “Fighting against you. It reminded me of—my friend, from back then. I told you about her.” 

Your lips pursed, but you didn’t stall your actions, running the thread through the hole you’d pricked. “The one you made the promise to?” 

“Yeah,” Zoro said, the word falling out all in one breath. You fixed the string tight along the wound, fingers splayed across his stomach warning him for the next puncture. He continued speaking despite it, and your needle hovered over his skin. “We were training together—fuck.” 

“Sorry,” you said again, still running your thread through his skin as he heaved out a long, ragged groan from low in his throat. 

“We were training together,” he repeated. “Haven’t done that in a while with a girl. So it—” His voice tapered off in another breathy groan. “Reminded me of her. I got bitchy.” 

“Yeah, I noticed,” you said. You were getting close to the end of the wound now, but your actions slowed, just to keep him talking—the words came out all harsh and hesitant, and you got the feeling speaking about his past was a laborious task. Might as well let him have the safety of avoiding your eyes like this while he spoke. “Do I look like her or something?” 

Zoro huffed out a laugh. “Ha. No.” 

“Okay,” you said. You pierced his skin again—he took this one better, muscles clenching as he sucked in hard. You waited until you finished the stitch to speak again. “Are you going to keep avoiding me?”

“No,” Zoro said. His words pierced the air, weighed heavy with a gasp of pain and a hiss, but it still rang sharp in your ears. He eased out a breath, long and soft. “It was unfair. Can’t help it sometimes, that’s all.” 

“That’s fine,” you answered carefully. You threaded one last stitch, both of you mute as you tightened the wound closed with the suture and tied it off. You snipped the string with a pocketknife, using another damp towel to clean up any of the excess blood. “I’m going to dress everything with bandages now. Almost done.” 

“Okay,” Zoro said. You reorganized your supplies, tucking away your stitching things to replace with bandages and dressing pads. You washed your hands again, then returned to bend over Zoro’s torso. When you did, you were surprised to see Zoro’s eyes had opened, soft brown irises boring into yours. You swallowed, feeling the burn of his gaze into your skin as you stared at the skin of his midsection. 

“I’ll do the big one first, then everything else,” you said carefully. You worked in silence, pressing a dressing pad along the wound and tying it off with some gauze to fix it in place. You moved around his body, bandaging up any cuts you deemed worthy until you finally were left with Yoru’s cut. 

It stretched the entire expanse of his torso, from shoulder to hip. It’d been well done, the cut deep but not deep enough to kill as long as someone was fast enough with treatment. You recognized the shape of the cut, the very tip of it thin before Yoru’s mouth caught the skin with the center of his blade. “He did it like this on purpose?” Zoro asked.

“Yeah,” you said. “He’s methodical with most things.” You wrapped gauze around the scab, tightening it up and then finally tying it off by his hip. “I’d keep that on for a few days before replacing it. Keep dressing it for another two weeks or so. It’ll probably start swelling soon, so I can help you drain whatever fluid develops.” 

“I’ll let you know,” Zoro said. He was still watching you with those big brown eyes, and a soft shiver traced down your spine. “Thank you.” 

“Thank you for saving me from that pirate earlier,” you said. You surveyed him again, though you were careful not to meet his eyes. A long silence filled the space, heavy with something you couldn’t quite place. You ducked your head, busying yourself with putting away the first aid kit. The words fell from your mouth before you could stop them— “I like your earrings.” 

“Oh,” Zoro said. Nothing else. 

You were pretty sure you liked more than the earrings. You liked the way he fought, even if it scared you sometimes—even if you knew one day he’d probably be able to beat your father. You liked his face; those big brown eyes, soulless at times but holding the world in those glistening irises at others. Those freckles, adorned with the entire galaxy, stars and planets and constellations dotting his cheeks like a mural of life. The way he talked, soft-spoken but utterly real, voice low in his throat, words disturbingly honest. 

You didn’t say so, though. You stuck with the earrings, because those were safer.

pt. 1 | pt. 2 | pt. 3

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#opla zoro #opla roronoa zoro #opla #roronoa zoro #roronoa zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x you #reader insert #x reader #one piece live action #one piece netflix #one piece live action x you #one piece live action x reader #opla fanfic #opla fanfiction #dracule mihawk #opla zoro x reader #kiki writes!

[anonymous-dentist]

A very lonely night from the Merpepito AU

-

Pepito can’t sleep. The boat is rocking too much and Miss Baghera is snoring (even though she keeps saying that Captain Celbi is the one snoring; she’s just a dirty rotten pirate, though, so why would she tell the truth?) and Pepito can’t stop thinking about the Very Bad Thing and, and, and-

Pepito whimpers into his pillow. His eyes squeeze shut, but all he sees in the darkness is the blood and their eyes- their eyes!! Empty and terrified and all because of Pepito because Pepito is a Bad Pepito.

Apa Roier is probably sleeping just fine. Him and Apa Mariana probably haven’t even noticed that Pepito’s been gone for an entire month. They probably got Apa Quackity and Apa Carre and Ama Rivers and they got a new Pepito- a Good Pepito- and they’re all in the same house and happy, and it’s fine!!!

Pepito stifles a sob with the sleeve of his shirt. They’re probably happier with their New Pepito. That Pepito isn’t a bad person. They deserve a Good Pepito, they’re good parents. The best parents. Ever. Of all time.

Miss Baghera snorfles in her sleep, and Pepito decides that, despite him being a super evil pirate now, it would be rude to wake Miss Baghera up with his crying.

So Pepito slides out of his bunk and puts his glasses on.

He tiptoes out of the sleeping quarters and upstairs onto the deck (because that’s apparently what the ship’s roof is called.)

The sun is nice, but Pepito thinks that Pepito likes the moon just as much. It always looks like it’s smiling, even when it’s going away to hide. Pretty…

Pepito huddles next to the central mast and looks up at the moon. Maybe the moon would like Pepito. It seems nice.

Pepito can’t talk because of the Magic, but he can think, and, silently, he asks the moon if it would like to be Pepito’s friend.

That’s when Pepito hears a quiet sniffle from up by the steering wheel.

Peeking around the mast, Pepito sees… Captain Celbi!? Crying!? And alone…

Determined, Pepito stands and trots up the stairs to the steering wheel.

Captain Celbi, of course, sees Pepito approaching. He has good eyes. (He’s so cool!)

“Hi, Pepito,” Captain Celbi says. He smiles, and, in the dark, it doesn’t even look like he’s sad.

He isn’t in his Captain Clothes. He’s in his… pajamas? He’s half-dressed: half-pajamas, half regular clothes. His coat is on, but his hat isn’t.

He has both of his hands firmly planted on the steering wheel’s handles, and- whoah, holy Ocean, did his hair just move!?

Almost silver in the moonlight, one of two little pointy things on the top of Captain Celbi’s head twitches like a nervous clownfish.

Pepito gasps. Captain Celbi has horns!

Wait, no, that’s silly. Sky Pepitos are “humans”. They can’t have horns.

As if following Pepito’s train of thought, Captain Celbi raises a hand to press his pointy things down against the top of his head.

“Ignore them,” he tells Pepito. “What’s up? Is Baghera snoring again?”

Pepito nods, still staring up at Captain Celbi’s head.

Captain Celbi snorts and shakes his head fondly.

“And she says I snore,” he scoffs. “What a liar, huh, Pepito?”

Pepito shrugs. They’re all pirates. They’re supposed to lie, aren’t they? That’s what Apa Roier says, pirates are all ugly and smelly and they’re all liars and killers and thieves (though he always says it with a weird fuzzy look in his eyes and with a smile on his face, weird.)

“Don’t worry. You can hang out up here with me until you’re tired enough to sleep,” Captain Celbi says.

Pepito wants to say that he doesn’t wanna sleep because every time Pepito sleeps he sees the Very Bad Thing and he wakes up sick and sad and useless, but Pepito can’t. So he just sighs and sits by Captain Celbi’s feet and watches him steer.

And Captain Celbi lets him. He’s nice, for a pirate. Apa Roier would like him, probably. It’s a shame he’s a human. It’s a shame Pepito is Pepito. Now Apa Roier and Captain Celbi can never meet, all because of him.

Pepito’s lip wobbles. He doesn’t realize he’s crying until Captain Celbi is letting out a soft, pained noise and crouching in front of Pepito with a concerned frown.

“Aw, hey, it’s fine,” Captain Celbi says. He pulls his sleeve up over his thumb and uses it to wipe under Pepito’s eyes. “I don’t mind, really. You can stay up here all night, if you want.”

That isn’t the problem!

Pepito is tired. Pepito wants to sleep.

Frustrated, Pepito raises his hands and puts them under his head as if they were a pillow.

“Right, you can’t sleep.” Captain Celbi nods. “Baghera is snoring. We can find you somewhere else in the morning?”

Pepito sighs and shakes Pepito’s head.

How to talk about nightmares…?

“You don’t want to move,” Captain Celbi guesses.

He pauses, then he tries again: “It isn’t the snoring.”

Pepito nods.

Pepito can’t talk, and Pepito is still learning the Sky Pepito writing system, so Pepito kinda just hangs out and hopes everyone gets what he wants to say. It’s like charades, kinda. It’s fun! Pepito loves charades!

But Pepito is sleepy, but Pepito hasn’t been able to sleep since leaving home because of the Very Bad Thing, and it stinks.

Captain Celbi hums thoughtfully, and then he settles down next to Pepito on the deck. (The Ocean feels still, they probably won’t get too off-track if Captain Celbi stops steering.)

“Do you want to know why I’m up here?” Captain Celbi asks.

He looks around to make sure that nobody has managed to sneak up onto the deck to eavesdrop.

Then, when he knows the coast is clear, he leans in and whispers, “I had a nightmare.”

Pepito’s eyes widen dramatically. No way!

Captain Celbi nods. “Yeah. It was super scary.”

Wordlessly, Pepito takes one of Captain Celbi’s hands in both of Pepito’s. It’s what Apa Mariana does when Pepito has nightmares back home, he holds Pepito’s hands to show him that he’s awake and the bad dream was just that: a dream.

The two points on Captain Celbi’s head stand up again as Pepito touches him, and they stay up.

Captain Celbi half-smiles. “Don’t worry, Pepito, I’m used to bad dreams. I’ve been having them since I was your age, probably.”

Pepito���s eyes widen. He frowns sympathetically. Poor Captain Celbi… even pirates don’t deserve bad dreams!

“But, because I’ve been having bad dreams for so long, I know how to forget about them,” Captain Celbi says. “See, my bad dreams are all about the bad things I’ve done, and those are in the past. So, to forget about the past, I think about the present and the future.”

He looks up at the moon, slit pupils widening. His eyes almost seem to glow blue in the night like a magic catfish’s.

Pepito thinks. The present and the future…

Well, Pepito is gonna grow up to be the bestest and scariest pirate on The Ocean. That’s in the future.

In the present, though, Pepito is just Pepito. Nothing special there. Just a Bad Pepito.

Captain Celbi’s fingers curl around Pepito’s.

“In the present, I’m taking my crew on a trip around the world, and we’re having a good time,” Captain Celbi continues. He looks at Pepito out of the corner of his eye. “Are you having a good time, Pepito?”

Pepito ponders. He thought there’d be more pirate-ing, but he’s been having a lot of fun playing games with Richarlyson and Pomme, and it’s fun learning how to tie knots with Mister Pac, and it’s really fun hiding in the crow’s nest with Mister Felps and Miss Baghera when they’re supposed to be doing chores.

So Pepito nods and grins.

Captain Celbi smiles the rest of the way and looks back up at the moon.

“And, in the present, I’m looking for treasure,” he says. “The most mysterious treasure of all. And, when I find him, then it’ll be time for the future.”

Can treasure be a person?

Well, Apa Carre always said that Pepito was his treasure, so it makes sense.

But Captain Celbi already has a Pepito, he has Richarlyson! Why does he need another treasure if he has a Richarlyson?

“By the time I’m ready to think about the future, it’s all my brain wants to imagine. So that’s what my dreams become,” Captain Celbi finishes. “Nightmares are in the past. The past doesn’t matter. What matters is the present.”

His voice goes harsh then, but Pepito doesn’t notice. He’s too busy thinking about the future: Captain Pepito in charge of the S.S. Pepito and beating up any annoying Navy guys he finds with his totally amazing crew.

Pepito yawns. Without thinking, he shuffles so he’s next to Captain Celbi. He leans against Captain Celbi, eyes slipping shut as he thinks of the future.

Apa Roier will be on the S.S. Pepito. So will the rest of Pepito’s parents, and they can bring their Good Pepito, too. They’re all Ocean Pepitos, so they won’t be able to breathe in the Sky, so they’ll have a swimming pool in the ship.

Pomme and Richarlyson will be there, too. So will Captain Celbi and Miss Baghera and Misters Pacandmike and Miss Mouse and Mister Felps and…

Soothed by the rocking of the waves and the comforting presence of his super scary and evil captain, Pepito finally manages to fall asleep, right there on the deck of the ship tucked into Captain Celbi’s side.

(And that’s how Richarlyson finds the two of them hours later when the sun rises.

Ew, Richarlyson thinks. He glowers and storms below deck to get some trash to dump on them.

Gross.

Pepito really should just learn that he isn’t Pai Cellbit’s kid, the little shit…)

-_-_-_-

A/N:

And that was Part 2 for you!

Hey guys!! PLEASE reblog this! And leave an ask or a comment or a tag or a whatever telling me your thoughts and questions! Let me know if you want more, because there is more!

#merpepito au #a.d.'s fics i suppose #a.d.'s fics i suppose. #happy bday pepito

[producedbyhanjisung]

⎯ ALL MINE. christopher bahng chan

🎧 : christopher bahng x female reader

TROPE. alien chan au, friends to lovers au, eventual smut, minors dni

WORD COUNT. 5.9k

WARNINGS. mentions of war, mentions of aliens

SYNOPSIS. when chan crash-lands on earth after running headfirst into the international space station, he has no choice but to follow the mysterious girl from earth who offers him exactly what he needs - a place to sleep, food to eat, and a pair lips that were practically a dream on their own. chan finds that he is fantasizing about you more and more, until finally, he snaps.

SMUT WARNINGS. nipple play (female receiving), hickeys, making out, tentacle play, corruption kink, spit kink, blindfolding, dom!chan, sub!reader, bulge kink, oral sex (female receiving), unprotected sex

If you were anything, you were smart. Street smart, book smart - a combination of the two.

Any smart person knows not to run towards an explosion. Any smart person knows not to run toward an explosion that came from a ship. Any smart person knows not to run towards an explosion that came from a ship that came from the sky.

And yet, that's exactly what you were doing.

What if someone was hurt? What if there weren't even people on board?

Thoughts ricocheted through your head as you ran, but you didn't react to any of them. The only thing in your mind was getting to that sleek silver work of aerospace art that had collapsed onto the property of you and your college roommate’s newly purchased farmhouse.

When you arrived at the crash site, it was burning. But not regular flames - these were purple. Tendrils of violet and lavender reached up to the sky, grasping for the sky, never to reach.

You froze, watching someone stumble out of the wreck, coughing and dusted in a layer of dark ash. "Fuck!" They yelled, turning and kicking the ship, not minding the fire. "Fucking fuckity fuck!"

You weren't sure what to do. Should you approach the guy, or should you hide and watch from a distance, until you knew he wasn't a threat? What would a smart person do . . .

Thankfully, you didn't have to think that hard. The person turned, catching a glimpse of you through the trees.

"Hello?" he called - you could see he looked more masculine now, but you couldn't make out the details of his face or clothes.

"Is that yours?" you ask, dumbfounded.

"What do you think?" he snapped. He had an accent - vaguely Australian sounding, but not quite. His voice was deep and full, and sent a corkscrew of warmth down your spine.

"Well I'd assume so, but people out here have been getting wild lately."

The man shook his head, groaning and pressing his face into his hands.

"What's your name?" you call after a moment of watching him mentally decompose.

He doesn't answer for a minute. Then, "Chan." It's muffled through his fingers, but you hear it. "Bang Chan." Then he looks up, eyes meeting yours. "Yours?"

"Y/N."

"Pretty."

Silence again.

"How'd your ship crash anyways?"

Chan shakes his head. "Your fucking International Space Station."

You pause. "What?"

"The International Space Station - you know what that is right?"

"Obviously. You said your. As if it's not yours too. It's international." You suppose a smart person would have caught on by now, and you slowly were. But you don't want to admit it - it's impossible, isn't it?

"Y/N, darling, I'm not from Earth so therefore the word 'international' does not apply to me, so yes, I meant your stupid fucking space station took out my stupid fucking spaceship."

You stare at him, mouth hanging open. It's only when a little bit of drool threatened to slip out that you close it. "You mean you're-"

"An alien~ wooooooo." He turned towards me on the "woo", half-heartedly making an impression of a ghost from a shitty 80s horror movie. "Scared?"

You just blink. "Not scared . . . maybe a little confused?"

"Why?"

"If you wanted to hurt me you would have done it already."

Chan is crossing to you now, tilting his head as he stops a few feet from you. "How do you know I won't hurt you? My species loves feasting on humans. How do you know I'm not saving you for later?"

"Maybe you are. Later is later, whatever. I have so many questions."

Chan pretends to pout. "I don't really wanna answer them."

"Can I have three?" You pretend to pout back, rolling your eyes.

He nods, waving me on.

"Why Earth?"

"Just what I was passing by."

"Where are you from?"

"A planet called Levanter. On the planet, I'm from District 9."

You take in the information, calculating your final question. "Are you really gonna eat me?"

Chan laughs. "No, of course not. That would be bad etiquette."

You smile a little as he turns away. "Levanter is where you're from?"

He hums in response, nodding. "Levanter is an ugly planet. You wouldn't like it."

"What makes you think that?"

"It's dying. All black rocks and lava and women with no teeth."

"What?"

He frowns. "Levanter's dying, and its people are too. Everyone is as ugly as the planet."

Before you can bite your tongue, you blurt out, "You're not ugly."

Chan scoffs. "Please. By standards on Levanter, I'm purely average. I have this friend named Hyunjin-" He pauses, as if checking the amount of information he gives you. "Anyway. I have to fix my ship now. So if you could-"

"I have space. Where you could fix it. And tools." You can't help but want to know more about this mysterious world of Levanter, and Chan's home of District 9. You also don't want to leave the strange alien-man wandering around in the woods near your house - you'd rather be able to keep an eye on him, especially since your new neighbors are nosy. You're sure that the people of your town wouldn't take Chan's arrival on Earth as well as you had. "And food," you add. "You eat, right?"

"Everything eats, Y/N."

"So will you come with me? It's getting late." You motion at the sinking sun, which has just begun to dip below the horizon, casting a beautiful light show of crimson, gold, and vermillion across the atmosphere. "We can leave your ship here, if it makes you feel better. We can get it tomorrow morning. No one ever comes out here."

"You came out here."

I sigh. "I saw your ship crash. Seeing as no one else is here, I'm assuming I was the only one. Plus, you need to get your wounds treated. That doesn't look too good." You motion to a gash on his shoulder, exposed where his suit had torn. It looks fresh, and you gather that it was from the crash.

Chan pauses, thinking for a minute, then nods. "We'll leave the ship here, and bring it to your safe place tomorrow. Right?"

"Right. Is that okay?"

He nods again, starting to follow you as you turn on your heels.

It's a fifteen minute walk back to your small farmhouse, shared with Mina, your roommate, who texted you the day before that she was staying in the city with her boyfriend for the week.

"No one else is home," you explain to him as you push open the door. The city you attended college was only an hour from the seemingly-middle-of-nowhere location you and Mina had chosen to stay over the summer, which meant she could visit her boyfriend, who had bought an apartment on campus.

"You live with someone else?"

You nod. "Her name's Mina. She won't be home for a few days though. How long will it take for you to get your ship back up and running?"

"A week, maybe two?"

You cough. "Two weeks?"

He shrugs. "I didn't look at the damage at all. I just followed you. I won't really have a good idea until I look tomorrow."

You stare out the window, eyes focused on your old Land Rover in the driveway. "Okay."

"Do you have anything to eat? I'm really hungry," Chan says, laughing a little. "I had plenty of food on the ship, but I'm guessing it might be a little burnt right now."

“Maybe just a little,” you agree. “What kind of food do people on Levanter eat?”

He shrugs. “I like Nilla wafers.”

“What?”

“Those come from Earth, don’t they? Nilla wafers. Do you have any?”

You shake your head slowly. “I could run out and get some, if you’d like.” You’re baffled. Here’s this strange alien-man with an Australianish and who you can see has at least three knives on him currently, and here he is asking for Nilla wafers. “You’re a silly dude, Chan.”

He shrugs.

“Do you really want Nilla wafers?”

Another shrug.

“Do you want me to go get you some? It’ll probably take me around a half an hour.”

Yet another shrug. You glare at Chan, who gives you a half-hearted thumbs up.

“You’re so . . .”

“Infuriating?”

“Human,” you finish, staring at him.

“Humans descend from people on Levanter. We migrated here long ago - when we first found out our planet was dying. The lucky ones escaped to here - paradise. The unfortunate were left to die on Levanter.”

You stare at him. “Then how come people don’t know about Levanter here? Or that there are other beings in space?”

Chan sighs. “They wanted a fresh start here. The ships dropped them off ass naked and freezing to the bone. That’s what you call Neanderthals, right? Memories fade over time, and over millennia, I guess it’s easy to forget about what you don’t want to remember.”

You stare at him. “So Earth has this big crazy lore and no one even knows about it? What the fuck?”

Chan nods. “I know it sounds crazy. You don’t have to believe me.”

And yet, you trust him. You believe that Chan is telling the truth.

The two of you sit in silence for a few minutes, letting the new world of information sink into your mind. It’s hard to wrap your head around, and even harder to realize that you’re probably the only Earth-born person alive to know about the existence of Levanter and entities beyond Earth. And here, one of them is sitting in your kitchen, drinking chocolate milk out of a bright blue sippy cup.

Finally, you clap your hands together, startling Chan. “Okay. Should we go to the store?”

“Like a grocery store? For what?”

“Nilla wafers, dummy.”

—————————————————————————

Eight days after Chan landed on Earth, it feels like you’ve lived together for an eternity. Like he’s a regular human guy, who goes to college with you - maybe he majors in something dumb like English.

He works on his ship during the day, and you visit him, working on summer homework in the back corner of the barn, listening to him tell stories about Levanter and his family, and his dog Berry (dogs were also apparently Levanter-delivered to Earth, because humans were too incompetent to survive on their own).

He’s moved on from his short-lived obsession with Nilla wafers, moving onto the strange discovery of sprinkles, which he now keeps a tin of in his back pocket. The first day he was here, you went out and thrifted a bunch of clothes for him that weren’t a space suit, since most of his burnt up in the crash. He liked the baggy jeans and knit sweaters you brought back for him, saying that if you ever needed to borrow one, he'd be happy to lend it to you.

You're curled up in one of his sweatshirts currently, sitting on a hay bale in the barn, watching Chan as he works on his ship. The night breeze tickles what little skin you have exposed, and you shiver under the mint-green layer. It smells like him, you note. Something homely but unfamiliar to you, although it felt like you should know it. The scent gives you heavy eyelids.

"'S fucking hot in here," Chan mutters, turning around to look at you.

You shiver in response, shaking your head. "I don't know how you're hot."

"Are you cold? Come here." Chan opens his arms as he waddles toward you, wrapping his body around yours in a warm hug. He looks down at you. "Should we call it a night? I need to let a few things sit in there."

You nod sleepily, letting him gently tug you to your feet.

"Tired too?" Chan asks. He tsks. "Y/N, why didn't you tell me earlier?"

"I wanted to sit with you. I like your stories," you mumble.

"Of Levanter?"

"Your sister, your dog. Your music."

In the short while you've known Chan, you've discovered lots about him. He produces music on Levanter, and was a part of a music group before he and the rest of his band enlisted in the military. He has a dog, a sister, a brother, and two great parents. He and his friend Felix were both pilots in the military of District 9, which was at war with District 16. He and Felix had been on a deep space mission when they were struck by a meteor storm, and Chan was blown off course. He ran straight into Earth's International Space Station, and landed in your backyard.

And that's how he ended up here, with you peacefully sleeping beside him on the couch of your living room. He couldn't help but watch you. Your lips were parted slightly, eyes flitting back and forth beneath your lids, chest rising and falling with your gentle breathing.

How can someone be so beautiful? he thought. Sure, women on Levanter were usually not too pretty - but even compared to the other Earth-born women he had seen on TV and such, you were like a goddess. Chan found himself wanting to drop to his knees every time you entered the room, and treat you exactly how a goddess should be treated.

Yesterday, he had awoken in a cold sweat after having a dream exactly like that. He was on his knees in front of you, lips trailing up and down the insides of your thighs while you fell apart above him. Such pretty sounds dream you had made.

Chan shakes off the memory. He's only known you for eight days, how is he having thoughts like this? And yet he can't shake the image of your pretty eyes watching him, hooded, and your lips parted for a completely different reason. He wondered what you taste like. Sweet, he finally decides. Like raspberries.

He watches you for a while longer, ignoring the quiet noise of the television in the background. Finally, when he decides you won't be waking up any time soon, he walks quietly over to you and scoops you into his arms, bridal style.

You stir a little as he lifts you, and mumble into his chest, "Fucking chinchillas." He wonders what you could possibly be dreaming about that you're having an argument with chinchillas.

Chan's careful as he goes up the stairs, making sure not to trip over the crooked sixth step. When he gets to your room, he carefully lies you in your bed, pulling your blanket up over you after he did so.

He turns toward your closet, where his small repertoire of Earthy clothes are sitting on one of your abandoned shelves. Softly, he changes his clothes into pajamas, opting to put on a pair of black and white plaid pajama pants and leaving his shirt off. When he steps out of your closet, you're still fast asleep, facing the opposite wall.

He leaves your room quietly, making his way down the hall to your roommate, Mina's room. You told him a few days ago that Mina was staying with her boyfriend in the city nearby for a little bit, so he didn't have to worry about sleeping in her bed or intruding on her space. You assured him that he should make himself at home, but he still got a little nervous every time he walked in the room, feeling out of place.

He sat down on the edge of the bed, sighing, and tapping his intercom face. Though the screen was damaged, he had kept it on his wrist since he had arrived on Earth. The screen remained dark, and he tapped it again, twice this time.

Suddenly, there was a holographic image of Felix standing in front of him. The hologram was shaky and out of focus, but it was definitely Felix - what other soldier with an intercom had bright blue hair and wore a sweater vest?

"Chan?" Felix asked. "Where . . . disappeared . . . went home . . . sorry . . . are you?"

"You're cutting out," Chan said, standing. "Felix, wait, say that again, you're-"

"Come . . . invasion . . . soldiers . . . pick up . . . weeks . . ."

"You keep cutting out." Chan's voice was raising. Stupid fucking broken intercom. Suddenly, the communication cut out entirely, and Chan was once again left in silence in the strange room.

—————————————————————————

You were screaming. That's all you could register as you sat up straight in your bed, breathing heavily.

Chan's in your room in a heartbeat. He's shirtless, wearing a pair of pajama pants you remember buying for him. "Y/N? Y/N! Hey, what happened?" He's in front of you now, hands on your shoulders and face inches from yours, searching your features in a frenzy.

And now you're crying. You can't even remember what you were dreaming about anymore. Just the fact that Chan had sprinted from his room to yours in a matter of seconds just to make sure you were okay is enough to make you cry. You're so cool, Y/N. You roll your eyes at yourself mentally.

Chan pauses awkwardly in front of you as you bury your face in your plush blanket. "What the fuck?" you manage to say, wiping your tears as you look back up at him.

"Are you okay?" he asks gently.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm okay."

"Okay. Breathe with me, okay? In . . . eight, seven six . . . out . . . four, five, six . . ."

You realize he's doing Box Breathing with you, a military technique for staying calm. Moments like this, seeing him so humanly, you forget he's a soldier - and one not even of this world. You forget he's killed, and injured, and committed heinous crimes against other beings.

"See? Everything's fine." Chan reaches out, taking your hand in his. You look down, caught off guard, and take in how veiny his hands are, how nimble and long his pretty fingers look. "Just breathing. Yeah?"

You look back up at his face. "Thank you."

"Yeah, of course."

The two of you sit in silence for a moment.

"Can you stay with me?" you ask quietly. "In case that . . . happens again."

Chan nods. "Do you want me on the floor?"

You shake your head. "You can stay in my bed. It's the least I can do, if you're gonna stay in here."

He gives you a small smile, dimples extra deep-looking in the moonlight.

You move over, closer to the wall your bed is pushed against, and let Chan get in next to you.

He slides softly under the covers, and you feel his arm touching yours as the two of you look up at the ceiling.

"Do you miss Levanter?" you ask him quietly.

Chan is silent for a minute. Then, "No."

"No?" You turn over to face him, propping your head up on your elbow and curling your knees to your chest. The room is dark, but you catch a glimpse of his eyes raking up and down your legs.

He turns too. "Y/N, you don't know what it's like to be a soldier on a dying planet. Riots, homicides, bombings . . . they're everyday things no matter where you are on the planet. Here it's . . ." he pauses, looking for the word. "This is the safest I've ever felt, actually."

You stare at him, overcome with emotion. You can't even begin to imagine the traumatic events he's witnessed, the countless lives he himself has had to take, the amount of people he's watched the life seep away from.

"Look." Chan sits up, turning away from you so that his bare back is in front of you. You try to ignore the way his muscles ripple as he moves, the way they flex tenderly beneath the skin. "Can you see?" You nod, taking in what's on top of the muscles. Scars. Tons of them, big and small, twisting across the canvas of flesh on his back.

"You have so many scars," you murmur, slowly reaching out to touch one right below his left shoulder blade.

He hisses quietly, wincing away gingerly. It's an inhumane sound, one that a snake might produce, and you're reminded that Chan isn't actually a human. Humans may have evolved from his species, but you have no idea of his anatomy and physiology - you can only assume it's similar to yours. "That's war, love."

Love. You try not to shiver at the unexpected pet name. "I'm sorry."

He looks at you over his shoulder. "Why are you sorry?"

"That this happened. That your planet is like this. That-"

"Stop." Chan's hand is covering your mouth. "You shouldn't be sorry. Let's not talk about this any more."

You nod.

"Y/N?"

"Yeah?" You glance over at him.

"Is it weird if I ask to kiss you?"

Your heart is pounding out of your chest, threatening to jump out and give Chan a big old smooch itself.

"I-no. It's not weird. Why though?"

He shrugs. "Wanna see if Earth people do it differently."

You stare at him. "Do you think we do?"

"There's only one way to find out." His lips are on yours. They're big, plush, soft against yours, groping desperately for a hold on your mouth. He's a fantastic kisser, pausing to bite your lip gently and pull it towards him. He lets go, and his lips are back on you in a moment, soothing the pain.

When he pulls away, he swears he's never seen a prettier sight. The neck of your sweater is pulled down, exposing your bare shoulder, and your lips are swollen and red. You're looking up at Chan through hooded eyes, trying to guess his next move.

Chan moves closer to you, gently pushing you down against the pillows. Not with either of his hands, you realize as he hovers over you, because they're both supporting his weight on either side of your head. You look down, seeing a flash of purple disappear behind Chan's back.

"What was that?" you ask him.

"What was what?"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about." You jerk your head at his hands.

Chan sighs. "I thought you might get scared, but I got carried away. I won't bring it out again. I'm sorry."

"Don't fucking apologize. Can I see it?"

"What?"

"Can I see your weird tentacle thing?"

His weird tentacle thing pokes up over his shoulder, slithering through the air towards you. You reach out, brushing your nails over it, and Chan shivers, grabbing your wrist. "Don't."

"Why not?"

"Please don't."

"Why?"

"It . . ." Chan pauses. "It feels good."

You raise your eyebrows. "What do you mean?" You reach for it again, this time with your other hand, but his other hand shoots out to grab you.

"Y/N." His eyes are dark, watching you carefully. "Don't."

"What'll happen if I do?"

"God, Y/N." Chan is standing now, pacing around the room, his tentacle trailing in a wave pattern behind him.

"What's the big deal?" you ask. "If it feels good, why can't I touch it?"

"Because," Chan says, "once it starts I don't know if I'll be able to stop." He kneels next to your bed, looking up at you pleadingly. "I don't want to hurt you."

You bring your face closer to his, tilting your head and breathing in his sweet scent. "What if I don't want you to be able to stop? Who says people from Levanter don't fuck the same way people from Earth do?"

Chan snaps. In one motion, he's pulled you from your bed, tangled in blankets, and has you pressed into the fluffy fabric of your rug. "You don't know what you're getting yourself into," he says softly, voice deep.

"I have a pretty good idea. Plus, it's good experimentation, right?"

Chan grins, face moving closer to yours. You lean up to kiss him, but you feel something pinning you down - his tentacle, you realize.

"Not so quick, pretty."

You barely register the fact that his tentacle is taking off your shirt. All you can think of is that Chan called you pretty.

"Take your time," he chides, tracing his fingers slowly, teasingly up your bare abdomen.

"Are you kidding?"

His lips move down to yours, smile pressing against your mouth. "I'm dead serious."

You giggle a little, but are quieted quickly when his tentacle taps lightly against your hip, then traces itself towards your core. Chan leans back to look at you - half dressed, lips puffy, eyes lidded, chest heaving already. "You're perfect," he mumbles, leaning down to kiss right under your bra. He slides the fingers of his right hand up to your bra as well, sneaking them under your bra to roll your nipple between them. You gasp a little at the contact, and he looks up at you, grinning. "You like that?"

You nod quickly, and he squeezes your nipple a little, pushing your bra up at the same time so he can watch it. He stares, almost fascinated, as he tweaks and pulls and rubs your nipple. At one particularly harsh tug, you moan out quietly.

"That's so fuckin' hot," Chan mumbles, moving up so that he can lick your nipple. He runs his tongue harshly around it, seemingly trying to bury itself in the little hole in the center. Then he wraps his beautiful lips around it and sucks in, breathing in deeply as though it was the best thing he'd ever tasted. "You're divine, love," he mumbles around your tit.

You feel his tentacle tracing your neck, slowly wrapping around it. "Chan," you say quickly, a little panicked.

"Sh, sh." His hand reaches up to cover your mouth, his own lips still hanging loosely on your nipple. "It's okay." As if reading your fears straight out of your mind, he adds, "I have complete control over it. It's not trying to kill you. Is this okay, or do you want me to stop?"

"Don't you fucking dare stop."

He chuckles against your skin, letting his tentacle fully wrap around your throat. It squeezes a tiny bit, and you gasp at the feeling, your hips bucking up towards Chan. He tsks, tilting his head up at you and unlatching his mouth from your tit.

"Chan," you mumble, "Need more."

"More? More how? Show me."

You take his hand, watching him with hooded eyes, and pull it down to your core. The moment he comes in contact with you over your shorts you shiver.

"You're so sensitive," Chan says, lips turned up in a half smile as he watches you.

"Are you not?" You wrap your hands around part of the tentacle around your throat, testing the waters by stroking it a little, and his eyes roll back in his head, his entire body convulsing over you.

"Holy fuck," you say. "Chan, did you just-"

"No! No. No. I'm not- no."

You sit up, eyes widening. "Channie, did you really-"

His hand covers your mouth. "I didn't cum if that's what you're asking. I just wasn't expecting it."

"Are you sure? 'Cause you look like you just descended into heaven and came back down a changed man."

Chan scoffs. "I did not descend into heaven."

You pump his tentacle again, and he doubles over, face pressed into your neck, a low groan tearing from his throat. "That's so fuckin' hot," you mumble.

Then, Chan is up again, pushing you once again back down into your pillows, this time using his tentacle to pin both hands above your head. "No touching, now," he says lowly.

You bite your tongue as he takes hold of your chin, turning your head so he can examine you. "Such a pretty little thing. I wanna ruin you."

You've never been more turned on in your entire life.

"Open," he says, one finger tapping your lips twice. You open your mouth obediently, and Chan leans forward. He opens his mouth, and a glowing blue liquid drips from his mouth into yours. He just spit in my mouth, you realize.

"Now you're mine." Chan watches as you swirl the spit around in your mouth. "All mine."

You hardly have time to ask what he means before his lips are on you again. You break the kiss away, looking up at Chan. "Fuck me. Rail me. Whatever you wanna fucking do- I need more."

He smiles. "Your wish is my command. But first . . ." He stands up next to your bed, his tentacle still holding your arms in place over your head, and pulls off his pajama pants, leaving him bare except for a pair of Calvin Klein boxers. He pauses in front of you, lips parted. "Do you trust me?"

"Yes." It's the fastest you've ever answered a question, you think.

He nods, taking his pant leg and draping it over your eyes. "Lift your head," he says. You do as he says, and feel him tie it in the back. You're blindfolded, your sense of sight blocked by a pair of black and white pajama pants. The pants smell good, you realize. Like rosewater.

Meanwhile, Chan pauses above you, one leg on either side of your hips. He looks down at your still form, arms draped above your head, eyes covered, stomach inflating and deflating with every breath you take. "Let's get rid of these first," he mumbles, pulling off your shorts. He watches as goosebumps spread along your body, the act foreign to him.

He runs his finger over your panties experimentally, and your hips jerk up into his palm, searching for friction. "Woah, woah. Needy, needy."

"Wasn't expecting it," you say softly.

Chan moves down so that his face is level with your core, pressing a gentle kiss over the fabric of your underwear. You squirm a little, and he moves his palm to press flat against your pelvis, holding you in place.

Gently, he hooks one finger under your panties and pulls them down off you. His eyes stay completely attached to your glistening cunt, watching for any little movement you make. Then, slowly, he leans forward to kiss it.

You moan the moment his lips touch you, wrapping around your clit. "Fuck," you breathe out, hands grasping tightly onto each other, still rendered useless by Chan's tentacle.

Chan looks up, gouging your reaction to his movements. You cum once, twice, three times on his tongue before you're using your legs to shove him away, the alien completely pussy-drunk.

His boxers are off and he's inside you before you can even ask him for it. Chan knows he's purely average-sized on Levanter, but here, on Earth, he has a monster cock. When he bottoms out inside you, listening to your pretty sounds and the way your face contorts so delightfully, he can already see the shadow of his cock bulging through your stomach. He runs his hand over it, pressing a little where it's most prominent, and you throw your head back. "Look at this, pretty girl." Chan reaches up to take your chin again, tilting your head so you can see the bulge. "So beautiful," he mumbles to himself, shallowly thrusting.

As his thrusts get faster, deeper, harder, he leans forward, kissing you, but in the overwhelming pleasure neither Chan nor you can keep your lips attached, mouths parted open instead as you near your highs.

"Chan, Chan, I'm gonna cum," you say. "Chan-" Then you're shaking violently, entire body tensed and head thrown back as an almost animalistic noise rips out of your throat.

Your walls squeeze tight around Chan, and his lips drop to press against your shoulder, muffling his groans as he thrusts one last time, much harder into you, and cum spurts out of him, coating the inside of you.

The two of you lie in silence for a few minutes, before Chan rolls off you and gets out of bed. "Where are you going?" you call after him, but he doesn't respond.

You sulk back into your sheets, annoyed. Twenty minutes later, the pretty alien returns wearing a new pair of pajama pants, and carrying with him a wet washcloth, bowl of ramen, and bottle of water.

"Chan . . ." you say quietly.

He sits down next to you, surveying your body. His cum is dripping out of you - shimmering blue. "Are you tired?" he asks.

You shake your head. "Wanna talk to you."

He smiles. "You eat and drink. I'll clean you up, and then we can talk, okay?"

You stare at him for a moment as he hands you the bowl of ramen and water, wondering how he could possibly be real. That pretty smile with those gorgeous dimples, on the same body as those perfect abs and massive dick - not to mention the fact that twenty minutes ago, he was railing you into your next life, and now he's sitting in front of you like he's your babysitter.

"I looked up a phrase, while I was making this," Chan mumbles as he runs the washcloth of your center, wiping up his cum off you and cleaning you up. "A word, actually." He folds the washcloth over so his cum is stuck inside and deposits it gently by your door, then returns to hand you what you can only imagine is one of the sweaters you got for him, since it's not one of yours. He goes to your closet, and gets out a fresh pair of panties. You reach to take them from him, but he shakes his head, sliding them onto your legs and up until your thighs. "Hips up, sweetheart," he says, concentrated. You do as he asks, and he finishes putting your panties back on.

"What word?" you ask, watching him crawl back over you to get into bed.

"L-O-V-E. How do you say it?"

"Love." You look over at him. "You don't know that word?"

He shakes his head. "It's not something we have a name for on Levanter. I guess people there tend to not care as much. I like the word though."

"Why did you want to know it?"

"Because I think it applies here. To me, at least. For you."

You turn over to face Chan. "What do you mean?"

"I love you." You can tell he's blushing, and you giggle when he asks, "That's how you say it, right?"

"Yeah, it is."

"Okay. Yeah. Good. I mean, Y/N, I know I've only been here for, what, two weeks? But, I don't know. Everyday I just . . . I want to spend more time with you. And get to know you, and make you food, and give you kisses, and, I don't know, raise kids with you, and buy a house together. Never go back to Levanter. I want to just . . . stay here."

You want to cry, all of a sudden. "You wanna stay here? On Earth?"

Chan takes your hand, lacing his fingers with yours and rubbing his thumb over your own. "Yeah. If you'd have me, I think."

"Chan, what about your parents, your sister? Your friends? Felix?."

He looks down. "Felix is coming to find me. I'll have a chance to say goodbye. Y/N, nothing is honestly that important to me but you right now."

You quiet your voice, and ask again, "You really want to stay on Earth?"

"Yes. But, look, that doesn't mean we have to stay. There's a whole world out there, love. We could always visit Levanter - or if you didn't want to go I could go by myself."

"Your ship is still broken though."

Chan's eyes are glued to your wall.

"Right?"

"My ship has been fixed for three days," he mumbles. "I just . . . didn't want to leave. Like I said, I think I'm in love with you."

"I love you too, Chan."

The two of you sit in silence for a little longer, and you nestle close to Chan, tucking yourself into his chest as his arms wrap around you.

"So," you ask, looking up at him. "Do people on Earth kiss differently than people on Levanter?"

#smut #stray kids #skz #bang chan #felix #han #hyunjin #lee know #oneshot #alien #aliens and ufos #alien bang chan #alien skz #bang chan fic #bang chan x reader #chris bang #christopher bang #smutty #bang chan smut #stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids hard hours #skz scenarios #bangchan smut #stray kids x reader #bangchan #changbin #seungmin #jeongin #soldier

[uglypastels]

Not Wholly Evil |IV| pirate!eddie

a/n so sorry for the long wait. Let this be a celebration of the beginning of summer :) and lets hope for many fics to come (i cant make any promises tho) I hope you enjoy this chapter!!! Please remember to support by reblogging and leaving comments on what you think of the story <3

Series Masterlist

word count: 7.5k

"semi dark fic" - READ the warnings:. (gun/sword)violence. blood. mention of severe wounds. minor character death. allusions to suicide. kidnapping. imprisonment. alcohol. open and deep sea. pirates are pigs: mentions of non-con, but it does not actually occur. malnourishment and weight loss. paranoia. mention of poisoning. abuse. manhandling. lying. religious (Christian) references.

There might be a mention of other ST characters, and for plot sake, everyone is an adult here, just coz I don't want fetus pirates running around, but they are not really relevant to the plot.

Chapter 4: Columba 

A philosopher once asked, "Are we human because we gaze at the stars, or do we gaze at them because we are human?" Pointless, really..."Do the stars gaze back?" Now, that's a question. ― Neil Gaiman, Stardust

‘We’re… lost?’ You stared blankly ahead.

‘I’ll admit, lost is a strong word, princess— Misdirected feels more accurate. Sailing off-course.’ 

You stammered for a response to the confession you just heard. ‘How– How could we be off-course?’ The captain’s words had not fully come through to you yet, perhaps by his casual stance and lack of urgency for a solution or panic. He stood there, arms behind his back, studying his map like one of the painting hanging on the Queen’s wall. And yet, according to this man, you were heading into uncharted waters. You have been heading towards them for God knows how long.  

‘It is quite simple. Here–’ he was still analysing the markings on the wall as he spoke, and he must have wanted you to step closer, for he looked at you expectedly. Something around his mouth twitched when he looked your way. The eye contact was piercing both ways with so much said between the two of you, and yet not a single word had been exchanged. With two ringed fingers, he pulled an invisible string that he hoped would have some effect on you. 

It did not. 

All you did was raise a brow in your expectation, ready to see what the captain would do now. Arms crossed, you remained in your place. 

‘Do not make me come over there, princess.’ 

‘Do not make me come over there, Munson.’ The words were bitter but tasted sweet, like honey on your lips. If you had blinked, and as luck would have it, you did not, you would have missed the captain’s reaction; a deep breath in as he hollowed out his cheeks, pushing back any clearer indications of frustrations or signs of weaknesses. The patience ran out of his dark eyes. Then, with a stretch of his neck, he returned to his first problem as if the short interaction between you had never occurred. He sounded entirely unphased as he, despite your distance, went to explain the conundrum. ‘Several days ago, the Hellfire stumbled upon a certain ship,’ he tapped one of his fingers on a small mark south of the map. It then dawned on you that, by surrendering to your stubbornness, he had won the bigger battle. Your curiosity was gaining on you, and from where you stood, you could not put much more meaning to his words, as the islands around it were unfamiliar. He knew this and could tell you were frustrated with yourself, but you were too stubborn to walk up and look at what he was showing you… yet where you stood now was no good either. The captain continued explaining as if you were right by his side, not addressing anything else of the situation. ‘Tonight, we were meant to have only been a week’s travel away from our destination–’ your home. This shocked you, for before, you had no indication of how much longer it would take—a week. What was supposed to have been a week is now an undetermined eternity as the ship sailed on.

The mention of your home hit you at the deepest level, overshadowing any other emotions you felt. Any stubbornness was pushed aside for anger as you crossed the room. 

Nothing was exchanged as you moved past the desk towards the captain. He did not look your way, but the grin on his face was undeniable. You could still feel it when he brought you closer to him with a quick pull, shaking you around practically like a rag-doll. You now stood between him and the map, his shoulder against your back. His breath on your neck. His muscles brushed over you as he moved his arm to point out the locations on the map. The flash of heat coming over you could not have been anything but the anger you felt at yourself for letting this happen.

‘To sum up, we met here, darling,’ he reached to tap the map again at a southern point, bringing himself closer to you with the excuse to reach the chart. His chin practically leaned on your shoulder, and his hot breath became overbearing to all your senses. All you could focus on were the rings that adorned his fingers in front of you—one of the few aspects of him you could always trust to remain constant. You watched him move his hand across. ‘—were meant to arrive here—,’ One straight line towards home with a dark, blotted circle on top of it. It made you wonder how long that ink sat upon the canvas. Had he written it once you came aboard, or had he been planning something much longer? Had your abduction been a plan all along? It was hard to imagine but not impossible. 

‘And now we’re… well, God knows where we are,’ he chuckled with wicked amusement, and you did not see the humour in being lost at sea. You did, however, see the irony of him speaking of God. He, a Satan’s spawn himself. It is ridiculous to think that he had the gumption to speak the Lord’s name so casually, especially with him being who he is. It simply did not sit right with you.

However, none of your concerns seemed to have drawn his attention as Munson went on: ‘I felt something was wrong as we were supposed to have arrived at Escondrijo last night, a rest stop we often sail past,’ he read out the name of this island right at your skin, the S slithering from his tongue onto you in shivers. ‘I thought maybe my calculations were simply off; the wind, after all, had not been the kindest. Of course, it could have been a delay– but alas.’ He clicked his tongue. ‘What we stumbled across was–’ He slammed his fist into the map, making you jump at the extreme action,  ‘Such a useless piece of land no one bothered to give it a name!’ He laughed away his frustrations, which chilled you to the bone. ‘Not even the damned sould that live there.’

Damned. That’s what he was. What all of you were as the ship sailed on.

You tried to take in everything that he had just told you. All the locations he had pointed to. Considering the unknown status of your location, the world must have turned upside down for you to arrive here. The fact the Hellfire had stumbled upon the nameless island must have been dumb chance in itself, and just as quickly as it had made itself shown, it was now becoming nothing more than a memory. 

Still, this island could be anywhere on the map, but it must have been close to the planned destination. The climate would have raised suspicions much earlier if it had been otherwise. And that is precisely what you suggested to the captain, hoping that giving him some kind of positive idea would direct him away from the anger he must be feeling. Not to mention, at this moment, you were both in trouble, in danger, and the only way out of it was to help him… as much as you disliked the idea of doing so. It was the only option. 

‘Yes, exactly. All my calculations had been perfect. That is why this is all so perplexing.’ 

You could name several more reasons why the situation was “perplexing”, including one thing you did not yet understand: 

‘Why did we even leave the harbour? Why not stay and orient yourself?’ There were people there, other sailors; naturally, someone could have helped track the right direction to sail onward to. Someone there might have had more information. Anything. 

And yet, the ship had already set sail into the abyss of the night. You could hear the waves sloshing around you, and when you turned around, the fiery light coming from the island was thinning on the horizon. 

‘You overestimate the usefulness of a drunken man. Or the charitability of a passerby in a midnight alley.’ Munson spoke, ‘Or perhaps, you simply underestimate my willingness to find a solution, for that matter. As if I did not try to ask for help—because, whatever you may think of me, I am not ashamed of seeking out outside recourses—’ There was that clicking sound of his tongue that announced nothing but smugness. Next thing you know, his arms had snaked their way down, wrapped around your middle, trapping your arms within his hold. His lips were at your ear, freezing you like a spell. ‘And here I thought you would know me better by now.’

You wished you did too, but the truth was much more brutal. With every moment you spent in the captain’s presence, he only seemed to be becoming more and more of a mystery to you. None of your million questions regarding the notorious Captain Munson had been answered. 

With a slow intake of breath, you spoke to him as calmly as possible: ‘Get off of me.’ 

‘Mmm,’ he hummed, swaying you back and forth, enhancing the ship's movements, ‘I don’t think I want to, princess.’ In reality, it was a loose grip that held no power, authority, or fear over you. All it did was plague you with his touch, scent, and sound; it was all over. You could feel him everywhere. The heat of his body was radiating onto you, boiling you alive. 

From this position, you could not see his face. Your peripheral vision only gave you a blurry profile of his features without indicating what he was doing. You both stood there for a long moment, looking at the map as if it would reveal some secret message. Something to magically guide you back on the right path. It was quiet around, with nothing else but the waves outside, the fire of the candles in the room flickering, and two pairs of lungs breathing. Two hearts, beating fast. 

His grip loosened, but you did not move. Too scared that any movement would remind him of you. Although, maybe he had not forgotten but simply lost interest, for the captain took a step forward, passing you right by. His eyes were locked in on a spot on the map. 

This silence had given you one thing, and it was the time to think. Maybe not clearly—that was barely ever possible with him around—but long enough to devise a train of thought. With that, one more question struck you. 

 ‘Why tell me all of this?’ Was he confessing this all to you because he was not planning on having you stick around for much longer? Airing out a confession to a soul that he had already sentenced, either way, leaving no trace of his mishappening behind? If that was the case, you had to leave this room quickly. Tell someone about all of this…Because what stopped you from going out there and telling everyone that their captain had failed them? Led them to be stranded at sea. This may be what you need. This may get them on your side. Maybe– 

‘Oh, it is wonderful how your mind works, princess.’ He turned around on his heels, and his hands found your shoulders, dug in like claws, shaking you lightly. Shaking you straight out of your escapist fantasy. ‘Truly, fascinating.’ The two last words burned with a growl. He chuckled a little bit more before redirecting himself towards his desk. The captain did not bother walking around the desk. Instead, he sat down on it and let his legs swing around, knocking several stacks of parchment onto the floor in the process. He did not even look down at the mess he caused. Instead, he slightly bent back to look down. His eyes shot down, an eyebrow was raised, and then he looked back at you. 

‘Nosy, were we, darling?’ There was a metal twinkle that piqued your interest, and you noticed the silver key hanging around his neck. He pulled it off and unlocked the drawer you had been toying with before his arrival. 

Had it surprised you that he pulled out a bottle of rum? 

Slightly. 

But you watched the captain uncork the bottle and take a large sip as he sat on the armrest of his throne. He was sloppy, and the liquid spilt down his chin. He was wiping it off as he extended his other arm towards you, inviting you for a drink. When you did not respond, the captain shrugged, mumbled something about stubbornness, and drank until barely anything was left. He put the bottle on the disorganised desk and roughly wiped his mouth with his sleeve. 

 He let out a satisfied sigh. ‘Mmm. Now, where was I,’ he tapped his fingers on his thigh, trying to remember the last seconds. Once he did so, he laughed.

‘It is so easy to think that one tiny mistake could cause a man’s respect, but these men—together with me, may I add—have been through a lot. We are a family, sweetheart, and family isn’t so easy to get rid of. No matter how hard or often you try.’ His dark eyes pierced through yours. ‘So, I hope you do not set your hopes on a mutiny too high because that just won’t happen. If my men wanted to get rid of me, they would have done so long ago. 

‘I’ve made much bigger mistakes that could have cost me my head, yet…’ he knocked his knuckles on the side of his skull, giving you an almost apologetic expression, indicating that he was still present and accounted for. ‘I’m sure they’re all aware of our little problem by now. Hell, it’s their fault, but I don’t want to vex them with this. They have enough work on their plates.’ 

‘So?’ You did not see the point of this anymore, not believing that he had no one in his crew that could help him right now. That would have been more helpful than you.

‘So,’ he mocked your inquisitive tone. ‘Out of everyone on board, you’re probably the last that needs a good night sleep–or at least can miss one.’ 

You wanted to argue with him, call him a monster for depriving you of simple decency such as a night’s rest, but then it dawned on you that he might have actually been right. While the floor gave you no comfort, you had, in a way, the luxury of sleeping as long as, and whenever, you pleased. Meanwhile, the crew got barely any sleep and then had to work most of the day to keep the ship afloat. That was a rationalisation of yet another lost battle, at least. 

‘Even if I did want to help you,’ you sighed in defeat, ‘how could I?’ You didn’t know how to steer a ship, let alone guide one back onto a correct route in the middle of the deep waters at night. Munson looked at you, still very much amused, and clearly held back his tongue with a comment on your words. Instead, he answered your question genuinely. Possibly doing so for the first time.

‘It is the middle of the night; the sky is clear,’ he spoke as if this all led to the most obvious of conclusions, ‘why not let the stars guide you?’ 

‘What makes you think I know how to?’ Did he think you had any experience in this field? ‘Well, I doubt you keep looking up there just because the stars shine oh-so charmingly.’ 

‘You do not think the night sky to be beautiful?’ You asked curiously. It would explain so much about the captain if he could not appreciate the simple beauty of such things. But, the man threw you in for a loop.

‘I do, but I also know it has many more functions than decor. You must know it too.’

‘I do.’ That was basic enough knowledge that you had picked up on as a young child, but was that it? Just because you were fascinated by the heavens did not mean you had any expert knowledge on the subject. Besides, where would you have even been able to acquire it? ‘And this makes you think I can steer us back on the right path?’

‘Call it intuition.’

‘And on the principles of your intuition,  you dare to put your fate in the hands of a…prisoner?’ You had never heard of such a tale for a captain to let his prisoner take the lead on the ship. Giving him their trust.

‘I think we are past such formalities, are we not?’ Were you? He must have read the doubt on your face, for he took the task of explaining: ‘You are no longer locked away; you have the freedom to go anywhere on this ship. I brought you a delicious meal—which I would still like to have received some gratitude for, but that is beside the point—and now I am asking you for your help. Some would say you are going up the ranks quite swiftly, princess.’

‘Funny, I do not recall you asking for my help at all? Just being locked away in a room for hours and given no choice but to do as you say.’

‘The pirate life!’ Munson spread his arms wide, slipping down into the seat of his thrown. You thought it would be futile to argue with him, seeing what humour he was in. The way he had just devoured the bottle of rum would not be helping your case.

‘Why me then? Why not do it yourself since you seem to know as much as me about the stars?’ You thought it would be easier and faster if he had done the work independently. It would already cost less time not to go through this discussion.

Like a thunderbolt, anger struck his face. ‘Because, I say so,’ he snarled before returning to his previous self, ‘and I thought you might like having something to occupy yourself with. Pushing around crates must become boring after sometime, does it not?’ 

‘How do you–’ He had seen what you had done with the lower deck. But… when would he have had the chance? You could not recall many instances, if any, of the captain coming down to see you after he freed you from your cell.

He pushed himself up from the throne and walked back over to you. Then, he began walking in circles around you, and you tried to keep up with him, but it quickly strained your neck. ‘Yes, I know all about your organizing down there. And about your inquiring nature.’ He nodded over to the desk you had tried to pry open. Something must have given it away. He clicked his tongue.  ‘Remember whose ship you’re on, darling. There is nothing that goes by around here without me knowing about it. If you do something, it’s because I let you do it.’

‘I hardly believe that.’

 ‘Well, believe this then: on any other ship, you could have gotten into a lot of trouble if someone caught you going through another man’s things—’

  ‘Don’t try and tell me all of that is yours. I know you stole it off other ships.’ You rolled your eyes. Munson played a victim, placing a hand over his chest, pausing in front of you with his big eyes, imitating hurt. 

‘Some of it very well may be. This,’ he flicked the collar of the shirt you were wearing, ‘for sure is.’ His fingers grazed at your skin, brushing over your throat hastily. ‘I could have you hung, you know. Or at least take off a few fingers.’

‘I doubt it considering you need me in one piece if you want my father’s money.’ 

‘Did you know there are hundreds of other man out there who’d pay double for a pretty face like yours?’ He waited for a crack to reveal the fear on your face and didn’t say anything until it showed. ‘Not to mention, I would not be risking arrest with them. Luckily, I am a man of my word. So, to your daddy you shall return.’ He reached for your shirt collar again, flattening it out carefully with a smile that could make you forget any of the horrific things he had just spoken of. ‘As I was saying, darling… I have a feeling you’d rather not end up like the other dirty thieves, so be a doll and prove to me that there was a use in letting you out of your cell after all.’ 

There it was. The reason for all of this. This was your punishment. Or some kind of redemption. He caught you going through his belonging, and now you had to pay for it— and pay with performing something you already felt to be impossible. 

 With him standing in front of you, hand still on your shoulder, you looked him directly in the eye. ‘How long do I have?’ 

The captain puckered his lips in thought and looked out the window. ‘As long as you can make use of the stars. Then I would really like to get back on course.’

Until sunrise, however long that could be.  You had a few hours to find your current location and a path back to where you were headed. 

‘What if I can’t do it?’ you pushed the question out of your tightening throat, scared of what the answer might be. 

‘That is no mindset for you, princess.’ He brushed some hair out of your face. ‘You’re too smart for that. Now go on; no need to waste even more time.’ And with that, he set you on your way. Or, more accurately, he let go of you and made his way to the bed on the opposite side of the room. In the meantime, you felt like your feet were nailed to the ground, unsure of what to do next, scared of taking the wrong steps. All you could do was look around as if the answers were hidden in the cabin. It had not even been a minute, and you could feel your heart getting stuck in your throat, panic setting in. To give up had never been a feasible option for you before, and it still pained you to think of doing it, but the words were ready to leave your mouth. You win. Your lips parted, and your vocal cords croaked when you noticed something. 

The letters were partly worn from contact but still reflected in the light. Either way, it wasn’t so much the letters that spoke to you, as you could not clearly read it from a distance, but the symbol above it. A golden star set on top of a leather book spine, winking at you in the fire.

Now with much more confidence, you took the needed strides towards the bookcase. It was pitch black leather, wrapped in a string to keep the delicate pages together. The book was situated on a lower shelf, pressed between other volumes, making it hard to remove. 

‘Need help with that, princess?’ Munson sounded from behind you.

Instead of responding, you pulled at the book again, and this time, it fell out from the shelf with a stir as a pile of books near it moved about. Still giving no reaction to the words spoken, you got up and moved to the desk, unwrapping the tie from around the covers and letting it fall open in front of you. The pages were nearly pristine, the ink dark, as if it had never seen the light of day. This ink depicted excellent illustrations of creatures and men. 

Despite being ignored by you, for once, the captain kept his distance and let you work while you searched for the correct pages. You could tell from notes that this was definitely the book you needed, as it told you everything you had to know, but the writing was small and not always legible. The pages were thin but rough to the touch. The writing was small, fitting as much information as the writer could cram between the covers. Most of it felt familiar, bringing you back to tales you had heard from your father or the governess. But navigating oneself with the stars' help required much knowledge and skill you still needed to possess. 

You tried to focus on it as much as you could, and yet, despite the silence and the space between you, you couldn’t stop glancing his way. The captain lay on the bed, his head toward the door, facing you. Each time your eyes met, you pulled yourself away from it, returning to the words and drawings on the pages, but you could constantly feel his gaze on you. It was unnerving. It was as if he was standing right there in front of you.

‘I promise you, I will be more effective if I do not have to endure your constant breathing down my neck.’ Maybe it was your surprisingly peaceful few hours in solitude on board, the tankard of ale streaming through your blood, or even the overall situation placing the captain in a new light, but you felt bold. ‘So, will you please stop staring.’ You looked up, not even surprised to see him still looking directly at you.

‘What would you rather have me do, darling?’ he asked, almost affectionately… though that could not possibly be what it was.

‘For you to leave, and do not call me darling,’ you dared to express. 

‘You want me to leave my own quarters?’ He raised a brow in humour. 

‘Yes, that is exactly what I want,’ you explained. 

‘Ah, well,’ he threw his hands up, rolling his eyes, ‘if it is exactly what the lady wants, that leaves me with very few options, doesn’t it?’ You watched him walk towards the door, perplexed at the ease with which he moved, …just to swerve around and lean against the door. ‘Oh, no, I suppose it doesn’t.’ He shrugged. 

You did your best not to pay attention to whatever the captain was doing—which, in that instance, seemed to be humming some song. You did not recognise it, nor did you have a need to learn it. Especially since, at this moment, any sound from him boomed in your ears like a canon. 

‘Must you be doing that? I am trying to concentrate for your own ship’s sake, if you do not recall.’ 

‘Apologies.’ He stopped, but the energy transferred into his legs, which shook his whole body with them, only softening the sound slightly, but the creaking of the wooden panels underneath him wasn’t much better. You couldn’t do this any longer. 

The only thing on your mind was frustration as you slammed the book shut, picked it up and walked towards the door. The captain took one smooth step to the side and, when you pulled at the door handle, had expected it to remain in its bolts, but it opened so quickly that your slight pull was enough to throw you sideways. The night darkness welcomed you together with the cold sea air and confusion.

‘How long has this been open?’ You did not want to look at him and did not need to. You could tell what kind of smile he wore and how he must have enjoyed this moment as he answered. 

‘Ever since I came back, princess.’ You could have left any time. You just took a deep breath and counted to three before turning his way and calmly saying something you had thought ever since your eyes fell upon him.

Well, at least better late than never. You stepped out onto the quarter deck without closing the door behind you. A man was half-asleep at the wheel, his entire body leaning on it. Luckily, someone had blocked it, avoiding the ship sailing in circles. 

Besides the sleeping helmsman, no one else seemed to be above deck, most likely in their beds as deep night had arrived. There were no lights besides the fire lit in the captain’s office, so you let the darkness take you as you walked down the stairs…. But midway, as the light from the captain’s cabin remained in the distance, you realised your mistake. 

‘For Heaven’s sake,’ you muttered under your breath and turned back around, climbing the steps, ignoring the burning hatred you felt in your body. Then, with an exaggerated sigh, you trotted your way back in. While your steps felt heavy, protesting your return into the room mentally, it was strange to walk so freely without all the layers your dress consisted of. With only a shirt over your upper body, you could feel each punch of the air on you, but in a strange sense, you welcomed it. 

But stepping back inside, you felt your body heat up again, mainly from embarrassment rather than the soft fire lighting up the cabin. It had not even been a minute, and you were passing the threshold again. You had not expected, nor wanted, to have returned so soon. If luck was ever in your favour, you would never see the interior in your life again, but, unfortunately, there was no escaping from this room for you, as you seemed to be coming back no matter what.

‘Back so soon, princess?’ In the short time of your absence, Munson had returned to the bed and tilted his head at your entrance, grinning, ‘You must have missed me more than I thought.’ 

You scoffed, ‘for your information,’ and grabbed a lantern on a dressing table closest to the door… which was still too many steps inside for your liking, ‘I am simply gathering some light. It is too dark outside, I cannot read what's on the pages.’

‘Ah. Is that all then?’ he asked, returning his head onto his pillow, closing his eyes as if he was ready for sleep, ignoring his clothes and the stoic position in which he lay. But as you moved around the cabin, he had opened one eye to look your way. ‘I’d suggest you take a jacket, princess. It can be quite cold out there.’

‘You could have made a fine gentleman, Munson.’ You held your head high, not looking at him. ‘It is a shame you let yourself deteriorate at sea like your ship.’ 

‘That actually almost hurt me, darling. I’m impressed.’ He chuckled, eyes already closed again. With nothing else to say, you passed the large wardrobe and walked straight out of the room. Once again, you walked down the stairs, celebrated when your feet touched the last step and walked onto the ship's centre. Along with the crashing of the waves, you could hear each of your footsteps. 

Something must have been in your favour, for the sky was without a cloud and in the darkness of the ship, you could see millions of stars twinkling. The moon was still but a sliver. It brought a similar-looking smile to your face. 

You searched for the page you had deemed the most useful beginning and spread the book in your arm. Now, with the book open in your arm, with the flames lighting the pages from above, you gazed up at the stars. After a short moment, this position would not be possible to uphold. The two objects you held were too strong to keep up in the air. Remaining as calm as possible, ultimately pressing the captain out of your mind, you reread the pages. 

To navigate through the stars, one must first find Polaris—the brightest star in the sky, right at the end of the Ursa Minor. The sky was clear, handing you the constellations on an onyx platter. The silver balls of fire were peppered around like crystals, gleaming and shimmering, but without a doubt, there was one that shined just a little bit brighter, calling to you with the direction of True North.

You had heard men talk of these methods at home and aboard the Red Tail, and they had always sounded relatively simple. If anything, you considered their constant complaints simply a part of manhood. Now that you were straining out your neck to look around at all the corners of the galaxy, you still did not think it to be much more complicated and so knew that the captain could not have felt any other way. 

You had figured out his plan to punish you, and now the rationale behind this specific task came to you. It would not have been unexpected if he tasked you with this hassling job simply because he was too much of a sloth to do so himself. There was still a dim light in the office quarters, so you assumed he had not gone to sleep yet… or perhaps fallen asleep with all the candles still flickering. For a moment, your mind wandered to where the candles tipped over, caught some of the wood around, and never stopped burning.

Just for a moment, until your lantern started to feel hot against you as you held it too close. It felt so heavy.  You had to set it on the ground, then sat down beside it with the book in your lap. 

Some time passed, but who knew how long precisely you had been sitting out there. Your knees had started to hurt, as well as your spine, but giving up was not an option. The ship swayed back and forth against the waves, blurring your view, only making things more complicated. The wind kept lashing out, but you persisted, trying to calculate the ship's position, flipping back through the book to the pages on which a map had been etched out. You would do this if it was the last thing you did. 

‘I will be done by sunrise, ’ you shouted as you heard footsteps behind you. The jingle of chains could have only been one person. You wiped some hair away that the wind blew in your face as you felt the captain’s presence behind you—like a deathly spectre hovering over you. ‘I– I promise.’ You said so more to yourself. Because while you had to prove yourself to him to live, you needed to prove to yourself that you could do this. You would persist and manage to find a way back home. 

The captain said nothing; he did not linger around, watching you. The only thing he did, was throw down a large coat onto the ground, which fell onto the floorboards next to you with a thud. You blinked slowly, then turned around to him, but he was already returning to the cabin. 

‘It will all be pointless if you freeze to death.’ And with that, he took his last steps and shut the door behind him. The light in his room immediately blackened, obscured by the stained glass in the small door window. 

You looked down at the jacket. Like all those the captain wore, it was black but heavily layered. Decorated in what seemed like hand-stitched gold but not in any fashionable manner. The stitching was uneven and needed a clear pattern. The sleeves were falling apart but tied together with what once must have been a silver necklace. Several of them, even. You glanced once more in the direction of the captain’s cabin before putting the coat on. It swallowed you up but immediately brought over a sense of comfortable heat over your body. The soft material protected you against the wind. Now not feeling like your bones were becoming icicles, you began to feel some pleasure in the whole thing. As you kept working, you slowly forgot why you sat in the middle of the ship and let yourself be emersed by the stars. Being out there on your own was actually freeing in a strange sense. The darkness locked you out of your extended surroundings, placing you virtually anywhere.

Well, not anywhere. The constellations held the password to where you found yourself, and you would decrypt it anytime now. 

But first, you needed to stretch your legs. The cracking of your joints was enough of a sign that you had sat on that floor long enough. With the lantern in hand, you walked in circles around the ship. The light swung in motion to your steps, in motion to the waves. When you looked out at the sea, you were greeted with two moons. One hung still in the sky while her sister swam in the waters. Mirrored images of each other, smiling and frowning in both directions, but never in reach. Conflicted, perhaps or maybe they simply managed to show you bits of yourself there?

You wanted to say something to them as you stood there, but no words felt right. So, peaceful silence it was. However, the longer you stood there, the more of an effect you thought from the hours you spent on the deck. And there was still so much you had to do. But you could do it. 

Rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, you leaned against the railing, placing the lantern beside you. The yawn pushed passed your lips without a choice but plenty of resistance. If you stayed there, you would probably fall asleep soon, which is ineffective. So, you grabbed the light, and with your free hand deep in your pocket to keep warm, you returned to your star gazing spot. But not one step in your brisk walk back, you halted. A feeling of something cold and hard against your hand occupied your entire mind there and then. When you pulled it out, you were unsure what it was, but the mechanism must have worn out through the years because it fell open in your hand, revealing a rose. Its arrow pointing right at you. 

A compass. 

Your head immediately shot toward the captain’s cabin, but the lights had gone out, and there was nothing more to make out of the darkness. Your eyes shut into narrow slits. He had brought you his own jacket and must have known what was in it. 

The question now was, why? Why did he give it to you? Was he trying to help you by giving you this tool? Did he think you needed help to get anywhere? Well, you certainly did not. Especially when it could be a trap. The device could very well be defective and put you on the wrong trail, and then, if you were to give the captain the wrong directions, you knew he would not waste a second by punishing you. And this time, correctly. 

Still, according to your calculations, North was meant to be behind you, so in that, the compass was correct, but you did not want to risk anything. An instinct told you to throw the thing away, right over the railing into the sea. Let it sink and make the captain watch. Just like you had to watch, your own ship disappear into the waters. It would have been a small taste of revenge, but it was a start. 

The idea faded as soon as you shut the compass. You looked at the engraving on it—a detailed depiction of a bird–which kind, you could not quite tell. Perhaps a hawk… could it be… no, you doubted it was a Redtail. It could not be. The simple idea of that brought chills down your spine. How could Munson possess such an item; engraved with your town’s crest? 

And it was old. As you had noticed, the clip keeping the two halves together was tethering on falling apart from frequent use, and the window of the rose was cracked. The metal of the shell had finger marks faded into it from the usual position it was held in by hands much larger than yours. 

Not wanting to see it again, you pushed the compass deep down the pocket you had found it in. Determined to have the images erased from your mind by the rest of your task and the time pressure put on it, you retrieved your book. 

It was harder done than said.

As you stood there, book and fire in hand, spinning around to position the stars as you pleased, the tiny silver lights blurred in your eyes. But you were so close, you could not stop now, not when you were so close. Ignoring the burn of the compass at your thigh as your mind whirred with solutions. With North decided for, and with the latitude… no longitude— and if the charts were pointed this way— then, God, you could not keep this book up anymore. Your arm screamed from the weight of the pages. 

Back on the ground, you resumed your final observations. Flipping between the map and the charts, exchanging glances with the book and stars. Yes, if that was North, then… then… you checked the map once more, locating your home definitively. 

You did it. You actually did it. It could have been minutes, maybe hours; you could not tell with certainty how much time you had spent on the task, but as you shut the book, so did your body. You fell back onto the deck with a tired smile. It could have been the fatigue, but the stars shone slightly brighter for you, gleaming with pride. 

They also became blurrier. Your eyes turned heavy. But you kept staring up with a smile. At least, you do not remember ever stopping. Even if it is possible you fell asleep at some point, you could not tell at what point exactly. All you knew was that you dreamt. And for once, your mind was free of nightmares. As much as your world was free of them, at least. But it had to be a dream. 

How else would he appear out of the shadows?  Why else did you see him looking down at you; impossible to tell for how long. His features free of anger, mischief or bad intentions, unnatural. He stood there at the balustrade next to the helm. It was impossible to tell how long he had stood there in the dark. 

And his walk. It was utterly silent, free of chains or heavy steps. That could have been only your brain letting you rest. His touch was feather soft as he picked you up in his arms. 

You shouldn’t have stayed out here this long. He sighed in disappointment, but not in you.

You told me to— you mumbled. 

I know. The floor became unstable. You were floating in the air, rising up. Only his hold there to keep you grounded. The one time you should have been stubborn and not listen. Why did you not just go to bed?

I want to go home, Eddie. Why else would you say this if it was not a dream? You could never imagine yourself opening up to him this way. Let him carry you like that. And if you had, it would never feel this good or safe to be held by him. 

I know. He repeated himself. There was a shift. No longer in his arms, you were floating on a cloud, but his voice echoed around you. I’m sorry.

None of this could have been real. These could not be the words of captain Munson. But they still stayed with you as your dreams ventured on into other stories. All just as pleasant, the nightmares of all the nights before merely bad memories, never to be repeated again. 

I did it, you said quickly before he disappeared, to be replaced by your new figment. North East. Go Northeast.

Here is your final reason. The proof you had dreamt it all. A silent moment, full of hesitation. Then, a fluttering touch of lips on your forehead and a hand brushing your cheek gently. If this had been real life, you would have turned away and let yourself burn in anger, but instead, your lips formed into a smile, and for the first time in forever, you felt at peace. 

And just like that, like in any other dream, he was gone while your mind brought you to other fantastical places and told you stories you would not remember. It was a night of wondrous bliss, of rest. Filled with dreams as the stars watched over you. 

Only at daybreak did it all change. When the morning sun glowed golden through the large window. Only at that moment you began thinking that maybe, just maybe, you were wrong. Perhaps not all of it had been a dream, for when you woke up, you were not on the ship's deck nor down in your cell. When you woke up, you did so in a bed.

The captain’s bed, of all places. 

Chapter 5

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[thalfbloodloser]

i wish we had alloaro representation in media. a charming character who fucks - both literally AND aesthetically. one that makes other characters go "wow! they're so cool and good in bed, but ultimately un-datable, because as soon as they sense any romantic intention on you, they flee" (kinda like lucifer morningstar from "lucifer". he's aroallo in my heart)

a character who's funny and has a horrifyingly 80's sense of fashion (they have a curly combed-out mullet and mismatched earrings. you'll find them at pride wearing a corn costume because it "matches the aroallo flag" and they're "being subtle") or one who's the embodiment of a 60's greaser (their motorcycle helmet is themed after the aro flag and the back of their leather jacket says "LOVELESS / LOVE LOSES") or one who's a girly fanfiction writer that has more ships than a star wars movie (their fics are muntifandom-ly famous and most their stuff is covered in yaoi/yuri patches and stickers. everyone thinks they're a hopeless romantic because of it, but that's exactly why they're so big on the fiction ≠ reality discourse) or...

anyone else, really. just ultimately a HUMAN who's casually aromantic. one who doesn't make it a parade but isn't subtle about it, either. will they hold other character's hands? maybe. kiss their cheek? perhaps. hang out with them, on picnics and walks along the river? can't see why not! but platonically. or maybe have them be genuinely romance-repulsed & not so eager to participate in anything socially perceived as romantic. that would also be amazing.

let them express themselves sexually! let them fuck. give them a..."fuckbuddy", if you must. or a best friend who's sexually involved with them - classic romcom material, i know - but without it being "complicated"; because there's no romance involved to complicate it.

give them funny scenes. another character tries to kiss their lips or ask them on a date? they laugh nervously, the scene cuts and we get a hilarious shot of them escaping through the bathroom window. or audibly saying "ew" and then regretting it. another character is struggling to write a romcom/romance book without it being corny? we get a scene where our character casually describes the most romantical (and, to them, unappealing) plot ever - because, much like aces acing the smut department, they're far from misunderstanding what is or isn't heartstopping for alloromantics - only to have the other character stare at them like "?????????? HELLO????". give us a scene of them being confused as to why their hookup is yelling at them for acting "so casual" and responding with a quotable shitty line ("just because we had sex last night i can't call you "bro"? / "what? expected me to marry you or something? get off my bed, it's 9AM" / "would you rather have me mad? sad? what's happening here. give me a hint")

but give them complicated scenes too. scenes portraying the loneliness that comes with being aromantic but not asexual, the lack of community. them talking about how hard it is to maintain sexual relationships just sexual. the painful "breakups" because one of their friends declared their undying love for them but they cannot possibly match that energy, even if they wanted to. have them weep because somehow that keeps happening. the unfairness in being accused of heartlessness and selfishness by other queers. the shame on being told they're fetishistic and the reason why queer men/women/people are seen as sex-crazed or impure.

...anyways, i'm rambling- do y'all have any aroallo ocs? or ideas for alloaro characters? maybe aroallo headcanons? i'd love to know what you think! :)

(don't tag as #ace / #asexual / #asexuality)

#aromantic #aro #aroallo #arospec #aro representation #long post

[silentsamlikesham]

Happy Birthday Zoro!!

I was meant to write several short fics today and instead I accidentally wrote this...enjoy!!

N.B: In Japan a birthday is generally spent with a significant other and you meet your friends/family on a day close to it (according to the Internet, I'm not Japanese). I used that idea in this fic for some miss communication! So yeah keep that idea in mind!

.........

A seagull flies tiredly towards the sight of land. It had taken weeks to fly this far into the Grand Line, its important letter pressed safely to it’s chest. It’d been paid handsomely for the journey. The two buffoon humans had given it very clear instructions to deliver the letter on this date exactly.

The bird’s sharp eyes scan the docks as the bird approaches closer to a large portside town. It spots the Jolly Rodger it’s been looking for and swoops to the deck, delighted to have a moment to rest its wings.

The deck is empty, much to the bird’s annoyance. It spots an open barrel of clear water though, and flaps over to it, drinking hungrily from it.

“Oi, bird.” Its eyes flick to a blonde-haired human stalking towards it. It pulls its beak from the barrel, happily sighing after hours of seeing only the seawater beneath it. “That’s for us, is it?”

It presses its chest forward, letting the human unclasp the string on the pouch and pull out the letter tucked inside.

“Eh? This isn’t the paper.” The curly eyebrows on the human’s face furrow as he inspects the envelope. 

Sanji does his best to read the smudged name on the front, but the characters have bled together too much to discern it.

“This definitely for us?” The bird stares at him before pointing its beak at the Jolly Rodger above them. Before Sanji could ask how much they owe the bird, it takes off, clearly satisfied with its job.

“Weird.” The cook mutters to himself as he returns to the galley. He’d been enjoying the peace of organising the pantry after they’d restocked it yesterday. Everyone was off the ship except for Franky who was up in the crow’s nest on watch. He must be tinkering with something though, seeing as he didn’t notice the messenger bird himself.

The rest of the crew had disembarked to explore the island. Last Sanji had seen them most of the crew had been heading to the centre of the town to explore. Except for the mosshead that Sanji had watched head the opposite direction, inevitably in the middle of getting lost.

Sanji grabs a small knife from one of galley’s drawers and neatly cuts the top of the envelope open. A small piece of paper rests inside along with some berri. Sanji lets the money tumble onto the counter, now even more confused. 

The slip of parchment is in much better shape than the envelope, but the handwriting is almost just as bad. The writer clearly didn’t have much experience in writing, but Sanji manages to read through it. His eyebrows raise as he takes in the words, slowly realising it’s meant for a certain green-headed idiot. It’s signed off by the two bounty hunters Sanji had met at Arlong Park, old friends of the Marimo. 

They’re wishing him a happy birthday, the date on the letter matching perfectly with the day itself. They must have sent it some time in advance for a seagull to get all the way here to them. 

It was the idiots birthday? He hadn’t said a damn word about it to them. He knew Sanji always cooked the crewmate’s favourite dish and dessert for the day. Nami probably would have given him extra money for a nice drink too, knowing how kind and wonderful the woman is. 

Sanji lights the cigarette hanging from his lips. Unless the moron didn’t want them to know. It’d be just like him to see something like a birthday as unimportant or being embarrassed by the attention. He shifts his weight from foot to foot as he takes a few drags, reading the warm message sent by the bounty hunters, telling him to buy a drink on them with the berri enclosed. Clearly, he had told them about the day, had celebrated it at least once before with them.

Sanji slams his fist angrily on the counter, not quite sure where the emotion comes from, but screw the Marimo. He isn’t getting out of celebrating his birthday just because he thinks it’s above him. He’s sorely mistaken if he thinks he’ll avoid Sanji’s wrath when it comes to making a birthday dinner. 

With his resolve solidified, Sanji begins piecing the ingredients together. He doesn’t realise it until he’s an hour into crafting the food, but he’s only making enough for two people. Well, he must go find the idiot. There’s no way Sanji will get the crew altogether at this point, and Zoro doesn’t have a chance of being back before midnight if he’s gone off on his own. As it stands, Sanji will be lucky to find him before nightfall. 

He packs the meal into a basket when it’s ready, carefully packing it so nothing will be smushed or ruined. He briefly thinks of bringing two glasses with him but decides to just pack a bottle of sake and wine, the oaf will happily swig from the bottles anyways.

He calls up to Franky when he finally disembarks, the sky is coloured pink behind the crow’s nest, and Sanji feels a tension inside him to hurry up. The engineer hollers a goodbye as he leaves, making his way down the same route the swordsman had gone hours before. There’s deep sand on most of the route, and Sanji can make out the fake indent of the only pair of footsteps that have taken the path today.

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

He finds the swordsman just as it’s getting dark enough that Sanji’s cigarette is becoming a guide of sorts, helping him from tripping over rocks and roots. The Marimo is swinging his swords around, cutting lightly into the bark of trees as his body twists and his legs seem to float beneath him.

For everything that Sanji hates about the other, he’s a beautiful fighter. There’s a grace to his power, a purpose to his strength and an elegance to his footwork. Sanji watches him for a moment, almost forgetting about his reason for showing up. 

He’s soon brought back to the moment as Zoro catches sight of him in the corner of his vision. Of course, the idiot turns in his surprise and lunges forward, expecting the worst. Sanji easily kicks him out of his course to skewer the blonde. The mosshead isn’t expecting the kick and the darkness briefly confuses him as he stops his motion against a tree, coughing as the impact of the kick rattles his ribcage.

“Oi, what the fuck dart-brows?” He’s glaring at Sanji now, his pupils holding a glint from the flame of the cigarette. “Only way to land a hit is to sneak up on me?”

Sanji bites clean through his filter, letting his cigarette fall to the ground. 

“Maybe if your reactions weren’t as slow as a door, then you could have blocked it.”

“Eh? You want to say that to me again?” Zoro’s voice is dangerous as he marches forwards. 

He’s been training for hours, trying to work on quicker footwork rather than brute force. He’s tired, but also itching for a proper fight. He lunges at the cook, only being stopped as the blunt side of his katanas are blocked by a leg catching them in an X. 

Sanji barely moves an itch at the impact, one of his hands in his pocket, his body somehow almost perfectly upright despite the angle of the kick. Zoro will never understand how a man can be so flexible. 

“Watch it, idiot. If any of this goes to waste, I’ll kill you.” Zoro’s eye flick down to where Sanji briefly looks, only now noticing the basket handle he’s clutching. 

“What is it?” Zoro leans back, his swords falling by his side as he studies the woven basket. It’s one the cook usually brings onto an island for lunch when they eat out on the sand. Maybe he’s doing the rounds on the crew.

“Food, so put your swords away and wash your hands over there.” Sanji motions to a nearby stream, his nose wrinkling at the sight of how sweat covered Zoro is. The swordsman listens for once, rolling his eyes as he heads over to it. He’d argue more but suddenly his rumbling stomach is reminding him that he hasn’t eaten anything since breakfast. He can always beat the cook’s face into the ground afterwards.

He uses the jumper he’d thrown off earlier to dry his face and hands after washing in the stream, and by the time he returns he’s met with quite the surprise. Sanji has sat himself down on a picnic blanket, he’s fussing over the layout of some rice balls on a plate. Rice balls, Zoro’s favourite thing to eat. Beside them is several plates of Zoro’s favourites food, most of them dishes he’d grown up eating. A nice bottle of Sake rests beside the empty side of the blanket, Sanji having a bottle of wine resting against his hip. Zoro feels like he’s accidentally walked into an alternative universe, maybe the forest is haunted, or this is some devil users influence.

“What the fuck, cook?” He stands over Sanji, his arms crossed as he deliberates unsheathing a sword or not. 

“What?” Sanji growls, staring up at him with his one uncovered eye. “You got a problem, Mosshead?”

Zoro squats down, getting close to Sanji’s face, studying the familiar bump of his nose, the curve of his brows, the sweep of his hair. Sanji freezes, finally looking as confused as Zoro. 

“You look like, Curley. Did you bang your head or something?” Zoro leans back on his heels.

Sanji is reeling, his lips still tingling from the tickle of breath that had ghosted over them when Zoro had spoken so close to him. He’s used to feeling breathless when they get that close, used to feeling a flush on his neck and a tightening in his gut, but usually it’s because he’s pissed off and about to unleash his best attacks. This isn’t that.

“Wha-What are you talking about?” Sanji shakes his head, trying to clear it.

“This.” Zoro waves at the blanket. “Why the fuck did you make all this? This is- well this is all stuff I like. You make this for the whole crew?”

Sanji breathes out a sigh of relief. Of course, the idiot is confused.

“I do this for everyone’s birthday, moron. Even yours.” He lights himself another cigarette, so he doesn’t have to look at Zoro’s reaction. 

Zoro stares at Sanji for a long uncomfortable silence. The cook made all this for him? He came out here with it prepared for just the two of them to enjoy together? Not the whole crew, not like usual, not really. This is different. He’s treating Zoro differently. He’s planned this for just the two of them…on Zoro’s birthday…

Zoro sits the other side of the plates, grabbing a rice ball and taking a bite out of it. As always, it tastes annoyingly good. Every flavour and texture exactly how Zoro likes it, the weirdo having studied him for the months they’ve been travelling together. Hold on-

“How did you know it was my birthday?” 

Sanji can feel the tick of annoyance on the back of his head. Of course, instead of giving any sign of enjoying the food or a compliment, the brute has to be suspicious. Instead of replying, Sanji grabs the slip of paper out of the inner pocket of his blazer and passes it over to Zoro, grabbing a rice ball for himself as his hand passes back over the picnic. He’s hungry too.

Zoro reads it while loudly chewing on another mouthful of food. Sanji tries to ignore how disgusting it is by studying the expression on Zoro’s face. The mosshead must feel him watching because he keeps his expression schooled, although his lips still perk up in the corners. He laughs a bit as he tucks it into his pocket. 

Zoro doesn’t say anything more about it. The two eat in silence for a while, Zoro making his way through the sake at a scary pace, before pawing at Sanji for some of his wine too. The cook allows him, for once, given it is his birthday. But when the sound of eating starts to die down, he can’t help but ask the question that’s been eating at him ever since he opened the letter.

“Why didn’t you tell anyone it’s your birthday?” 

Zoro wipes the back of his hand over his mouth, wiping away the dribble of red wine from his lips. He’s messy about it though and his bottom lip still glistens a bit, the shine only lit by the moonlight that was breaking through the trees above them, and the one candle Sanji had lit so they could see what they were grabbing.

“I didn’t think it was a big deal.” Zoro shrugs, eating the last of the fish to clean the final dish. “Plus, I didn’t want one of your shitty cakes.”

“Excuse me?” Sanji is genuinely floored by the comment. How dare the green haired idiot-

“They’re too sweet.” Zoro complains, playing with the hilt of his sword instead of saying it to Sanji’s face.

“No, you just hate sweet things.” Sanji huffs, putting some plates away in case he needs to lunge at the green-haired idiot to strangle him.

“And I wouldn’t make one for your birthday anyways, Marimo. I wouldn’t be the future pirate king’s cook if I was that bad at reading my crewmates tastes.”

Sanji feels his cheeks heat up as Zoro turns to him with a studying look, suddenly intrigued, or maybe impressed. 

“Although now I don’t think you deserve the dessert I did make.” Sanji folds his arms, not quite over the earlier insult. 

Zoro ignores the pout and reaches into the basket instead, Sanji watches him out of the corner of his eye. He can’t explain to himself why he’s suddenly so nervous about what Zoro will think of his choice of Birthday dessert. 

The swordsman pulls out a small tub of one of the few desserts he genuinely enjoys, one that he remembers eating every summer at the dojo, passing them out between his classmates. He picks up one of the warabi mochi like it’s delicate, like he might crush it before it makes it to his mouth. Sanji had only made the dessert once, and Zoro had complained about some aspects of it. He thought the cook would never bother to try it again.

This time, it’s perfect. An honest moan leaves Zoro’s mouth as he swallows, his tongue licking at some of the filling that was left on his lips. Sanji feels his whole face flush red at the sight. His heart is drumming in his chest now, his eyes flicking between Zoro’s eyes and his lips. He watches his Adam’s apple as he swallows the first piece. 

Sanji’s mouth dries up, his palms suddenly clammy. Zoro has never reacted so openly to anything Sanji has made for him. It unsettles him, it leaves him feeling warm and clumsy. He throws the bud of his smoked cigarette away and finds his fingers are shaking. 

“You made this today, just for my birthday?” Zoro’s voice is soft, a foreign tone to Sanji’s ears.

“Obviously, idiot.” Sanji looks away then, he can’t look weak. He can’t let the mosshead realise how sick he suddenly feels. He wants to run away, to forget that Zoro can be soft, that the two of them can sit like this.

He hears Zoro moving, can feel him getting closer on the blanket. But he doesn’t say a word. When Sanji turns his head to see what the fuck is going on, he feels Zoro’s hand as it grasps the back of his head. He stares at Zoro’s closed eyes as their lips meet. 

Sanji is pretty sure his heart stops. He feels winded as rough lips kiss him softly, as Zoro’s grip on the back of his neck is light, nothing like the way they usually grab one another. His lips taste like the syrup drizzled on the mochi and Sanji’s chef brain registers how it interacts with the dessert wine he’d brought with him, unintentionally matching the two so they form the perfect taste between their lips.

Sanji is breathless, his stomach now feeling like its own oven as a fire ignites. He can feel blood rushing south, his body reacting in a split second to something he hasn’t had since he left the Baratie, something he hasn’t had time to have. 

He’s enjoying it, getting lost in the other body that draws itself closer to him. It’s only when Sanji’s eyes flutter closed, when his lips match the rhythm of the ones against them, that his brain catches up to body.

This is Roronoa Zoro he’s kissing.

Sanji pushes against the Marimo’s chest, Zoro falling back on his hands as he stares confused at the reaction. As though Sanji is the crazy one. Sanji places two fingers to his lips, his expression horrified.

“What the fuck was that?” He screams, waving his hands around, not sure if he should be kicking the oaf or running as quick as he can back to the ship.

“What?” Zoro huffs, not moving away from the blonde but glaring down at the sand in front of them. He looks confused too, like he wasn’t expecting Sanji to question him.

“What? What? You just kissed me, Mosshead. What the fuck is that about?” Sanji realises he’s panting between his words. He’s pretty sure he’s going into shock from how quick his blood pressure has risen.

Zoro’s gaze whips to the blonde, feeling hurt that Sanji is making a big deal about this, as though the cook didn’t start it.

“People kiss on dates!” He throws back, defensive as he realises, he’s just been rejected.

Sanji can’t even process the words Zoro has just spoken.

“What are you talking about?”

“Never mind.” Zoro goes to get up then, beyond embarrassed as he realises he’s spent the last half an hour misreading the situation entirely. Might as well make the rest of this as painless as possible to hopefully save face. 

“Wait, you stupid fucking moss for brains.” Sanji grapples at Zoro’s wrist, pulling him back onto the blanket before he can straighten up. The cook is panicking now, thinking back to everything he’d said since arriving, unsure where Zoro’s logic had jumped to thinking it was a date.

I mean, the situation was very date like, Sanji muses. But it’s Zoro and Sanji, having a picnic beneath the moon and stars isn’t a date, it’s a truce. 

Zoro looks furious now, his whole body is tense like a spring coiled to bounce. Sanji is starting to piece together the blush on the other’s face is genuine. Zoro thought it was a date. He kissed Sanji because he wanted to. He likes him.

The earth tilts beneath Sanji as he realises he’s not instantly disgusted. He stares at his own hand, anchoring Zoro in place. He clearly doesn’t want the swordsman to leave. Sanji doesn’t want this to be over. 

“Why did you think it’s a date?” He almost whispers the words, afraid he’s hallucinating. That Zoro is going to turn and ask him what the fuck he’s on about. 

“You- You made me a picnic for just the two of us…on my birthday.”

The sentence still doesn’t make the most sense to Sanji. He supposes, if he’d done it for a woman, maybe Sanji would see it as a possible first date. But the term first date and Zoro has no connection in his brain. It feels impossible that the two could be linked.

“I- I get that, baka. But- Well I- that doesn’t automatically mean it’s a date.” Sanji protests, letting Zoro slip his wrist away when he realises he’s not going to bolt. 

“Well, that’s what people do on their birthday.” Zoro grumbles, looking anywhere but at Sanji. “They spend it with someone they like.” 

He says the last word with a heavy emphasis so that it can’t be misunderstood. 

Sanji is at a loss. He’s never heard of such a thing.

“Marimo, I have no idea what you mean. Most people spend it with family and friends.”

Zoro looks at him then, with genuine surprise.

“Not where I come from.” He splutters, showing his embarrassment now as his face flushes bright red, even worse than before. “Couples spend it together, and then- then you spend it with friends on a different day.”

Zoro wants the ground to swallow him up. He can handle rejection, he can handle being wrong, but he hates that he didn’t realise what he was doing. He though Sanji had been the one to be vulnerable, to offer up a date the way he did. He’d been surprised by the blonde’s bravery about it, had accepted the silent confession and responded to it as confidently as he could muster.

He’s an idiot.

Sanji takes in the unfamiliar expression of regret on the other man’s face, and feels his chest tighten. He doesn’t want Zoro to regret this. Sanji doesn’t regret it. As the confusion lifts, Sanji properly accepts his own reaction. It’s…unexpected…but then again, everything is on the Grand Line. 

“Look Cook, just forget-”

It’s Zoro’s turn to be surprised by a hand grabbing his chin, by lips pressing onto his own and by the blonde that leans forward so close, Zoro could swear he was sitting on the swordsman’s lap.

“I was surprised, idiot. I didn’t say I didn’t like it.” 

Zoro stares into Sanji’s eyes, their foreheads resting against one another as Sanji separates from the kiss long enough to speak.

“Well, you seemed fucking pissed off.” Zoro defends, muttering the words almost against Sanji’s lips.

Sanji sighs, Zoro scrunching up his nose at the sensation across his skin.

“That’s…fair.” Sanji feels Zoro’s arm wrap around his waist, he relaxes against the other man’s chest, a hand reaching up to caresses the side of Zoro’s face and run itself through his hair. 

Sanji lets out a chuckle.

“This feels like a dream.” He admits, suddenly wondering how much wine he drank. Maybe, this is a dream.

“I know.” Zoro agrees, his arm tightening it’s hold on Sanji. His other arm wraps under Sanji’s ass and tugs him up onto Zoro’s thighs. The position a lot more comfortable than sitting side by side.

Sanji laughs as he’s manhandled, not used to someone as strong as Zoro holding him in his arms. Strangely, it’s the least intimidated Sanji has ever felt in the presence of the other man.

“I don’t want to wake up.” Sanji confesses, his heart fluttering as he comes to terms with what’s happening. The brute can love, the brute can be soft and gentle and hold Sanji like he’s both diamond and glass. 

“You’re such a fucking sap.” Zoro groans, his cheeks pink from the words. “Just don’t say another fucking thing and kiss me already.”

Sanji laughs as he tightens his grip on Zoro’s head, pulling at the tufts of hair hard enough that Zoro lets out a hiss of pain. That the moss-head looks at him with the same eyes he uses before they fight. The electricity is there, static between them, as fiery as ever.

“Anything for the birthday boy.”

Sanji is right about his earlier prediction. Zoro doesn’t make it back to the ship before midnight. Although, it’s not for a reason he could ever have predicted. 

Instead, when midnight rolls around the pair of them lie on the picnic blanket, everything else packed away. They stare at the stars as they lie side by side, Sanji’s head resting on Zoro’s arm as they hold each other. 

Zoro stares at the blonde as Sanji points out constellations and tries to explain to Zoro how he can use them to not get so lost all the time. But the swordsman is not paying attention. Only one thought remains in his head now.

He has one hell of a thank you letter to write to his bounty hunter friends. 

#one piece #one piece zosan #roronoa zoro #sanji #zosan #fanfic #vinsmoke sanji #zoro #zoro x sanji #zosan fanfic #happy birthday zoro #zoro birthday #idiots #misscommunication #they're in love your honor #zosan fanic #zosan fluff

[forjongseong]

first mate // jay (ENHYPEN)

pairing: quartermaster!jay x firstmate!fem!reader

genre: pirates!au, smut (minors dni) // warning: profanity, mentions of death, unprotected sex // wc: ~2.3k

summary: After the passing of the Captain, you had to mourn in your own way. Your ship's Quartermaster, Jay, showed his concern for you, and it tugged your heart in a way that you never thought could happen.

author’s note: you didn't think that I would look at Jay's wet pictures and just leave them be, right? of course I had to make a fic out of it.

my immediate reaction was that the HALF concept pictures were perfect for my fic on my sfw acc, but then I figured I should just leave that fic alone and just write something new. so here it is!

no song inspiration either for this. just a little wordplay towards the end. hope you like it! and do let me know if you prefer longer fics like the archer and his queen, or shorter ones like this and free fall

taglist (please send an ask or DM if you want to be added or removed!) @end-hyphen @hee-pster @maggstar @shinkenprincess-oh @nyanggk @yoursjaeyun @thots4hee @bucketofhiros @dimplejaehyuncutie @mochimchimo @jongseonglogy @rosesbxrry @excusememissiloveyou

The light of the moon was reflected against the deep blue sea, providing enough for the ship’s crew to see everything that was taking place. The flames on the lit candles were fighting against the soft breeze of the night, and every time a candle was blown off, the Quartermaster stood up to light it again.

“You know that is not your job to do, mate,” Jake said, putting his jug of rum down beside him.

Jay shrugged. “I’m not gonna wait for any of you to do it.”

The other two boys snickered at each other before they continued playing their self-made board game, using peanut shells and actual shells as bets. Heeseung, while waiting for his turn, stretched his neck and spotted a figure leaning over the deck above the captain’s cabin.

“She’s staring at the water again,” Heeseung commented.

Sunghoon and Jake lifted their heads to take a good look before redirecting their focus to the board game. Jay merely sighed after the men resumed playing.

“It’s only been a week since her father’s death,” Jay replied. “She probably needs some time.”

“We do need to vote for a new captain, though,” Sunghoon chimed in. “Given that she has served as First Mate for our late captain for years, I think she’d be fit to lead.”

Jake eyed Jay wearily before looking at Sunghoon. “You really just said that in front of the Quartermaster.”

Jay scoffed and waved his hand. “I’m not looking for a promotion.”

Heeseung cleared his throat. “Well, I think you’d make a great captain too. Which is why we need to vote. The crew is divided at this moment.”

“Maybe you should have a talk with her,” Jake continued. “You know, since you are second in command.”

Jay took a last sip of his ale before wincing and nodding, gulping his drink down. “I’ll do it later.”

After a couple more games and half-drunken conversations, the three men returned to their cabins after helping Jay clean up. Jay then noticed that you were still standing in the same place, but this time closer to the edge. He decided to have the talk with you right then and there.

With light footsteps, he walked up the stairs. As he approached your figure, he called out for you.

“Miss Wood…”

His voice trailed off after he witnessed you jumping off the ship, leaving your shoes and your jacket behind. After the loud splash, Jay blinked twice and had his jaw hanging before he came to his senses. He rushed and peered over, squinting his eyes to look for you.

“Miss Wood!”

He waited for you to emerge out of the water. Five seconds. Ten seconds. Then he lost count and got restless, so he decided to jump after you. He had to adjust his sight to the darkness of the water and the saltwater burned his eyes, but he spotted your white nightgown and immediately swam to you, grabbing you by your waist before swimming upwards to the surface.

“Miss Wood!” Jay coughed, wiping his face with one hand to get a good look at you.

“What the fuck are you doing?!”

You yanked Jay’s arm away from your body and steadily floated away from him. Jay looked at you in confusion.

“Miss, I know it’s hard, but there’s so much more to live for. Your crew needs you!”

“Shut up, you idiot! Stop yelling!” You angrily splashed water on Jay’s face before brushing your hair back. “You’re gonna wake up the crew.”

“I-I don’t understand,” Jay began to stutter.

“I just wanted to take a dive to clear my thoughts,” you explained.

“But you were under the water for so long…”

“It was barely a minute! You don’t think I can’t hold my breath for long? Seriously…”

The annoyance in your voice was starting to make Jay uneasy, so he let the water slowly drift him away from you. You looked up at the ship, looking around for your crew.

“I’ll go get someone,” Jay said. “Unless you still want to clear your thoughts?”

You squinted at Jay, and he swore he could hear you growl. He then made a loud whistle as he bit his lower lip, and within seconds, two men were already lowering ropes for you both. After they helped you up to the main deck, you quickly ordered them to go back to their chambers, but Jay felt so bad that he kept tailing you to the captain’s cabin.

“What do you want now, Jay?” You asked as you opened the door without even looking back, sensing his presence.

“I just wanted to make sure you returned to your cabin safely.”

You turned around and looked at Jay, then looked at the main deck which was literally not even fifty steps away. He then realized how stupid he sounded, so he just bowed for no reason before turning around and leaving you. You retreated to the captain’s cabin and began cleaning yourself up.

Moments later, you heard a knock on the door. You had no plans to sleep soon, so you decided to entertain whoever the buffoon was, bothering you so late in the night. When you opened the door, of course, you found Jay standing in front of you.

What you just noticed, though, was how good he looked with his face clean, his hair still half-wet and slicked back, and his sheer clothing that barely hid his chest and biceps.

While you were lost in your thoughts, Jay was thinking the exact same thing. He never noticed how beautiful you looked without all the garments necessary for a pirate. Your hair was let down, and the black nightgown that you changed into was also made of a similar sheer fabric that barely hid your curves. He even thought that the small scar along your right cheekbone was cute.

Cute? That was an adjective Jay never would have thought to use to describe you.

“Since you’re still awake,” Jay broke the silence. You blinked and redirected your gaze to his face. “I think I need to speak to you about our ship’s crew and their roles.”

You knew the conversation was going to take long, so without saying a word you stepped aside as you pulled the door open for Jay, letting him in. When he entered the cabin, he found that it was neat and clean, and it smelled like flowers and incense.

He wondered if that was how you smelled too.

“The crew was wondering when we will hold the vote, Miss Wood,” Jay began, shaking his head as he tried his best to focus.

“You can drop the honorifics,” you said. “It’s not like my father is still around.”

Jay hesitated for a while before he cleared his throat. “Right,” he licked his lips. “Y/N.”

You smirked to yourself as you cleared out the desk and had him sit across from you, and you did not know exactly how it happened, but you ended up having a lengthy and deep conversation with him. It started with him asking more personal questions regarding the captain, and as you answered him you began to open up and started asking him similar questions.

After a while, you reached for your pocket watch to check the time, and when you were putting it back your hand slipped. The pocket watch almost fell to the floor if you did not quickly reach for it out of reflex, but Jay did too, so now his hand was covering yours.

Again, you never noticed how thick his fingers were. Or how veiny his hands were. Or how soft his skin was.

“It’s getting late,” you sighed, pretending to be nonchalant. You stood up and the sleeve of your nightgown slipped off your shoulder. If you did not pull it back up quickly, Jay would have seen more of your chest.

Jay stood up after you and walked slowly behind you, obviously reluctant to leave the room. You sensed that he was dragging his feet, so when you held the door open you stepped only slightly aside to make way for him. While he was passing you, you did not know what came over you, but you reached for his arm and tugged his shirt.

“Jay,” you said, barely a whisper. You could not find the exact words to voice out what was in your head.

Luckily, Jay did not need words for him to understand you.

He reached for the door and pulled it away from you, carefully pushing you to the side just for him to close the door shut. He moved closer until you backed up against the door, and when you felt his hand on your waist your breath hitched.

Jay placed one hand over your head before he leaned in to kiss you, and the way your body reacted to his lips on yours was almost embarrassing. You almost melted to the wooden floor if he wasn’t holding you up, and you brought your hands up to his face to pull him closer.

You whimpered when you felt him place his leg between yours, making it impossible not to grind your crotch against his thigh. His hand that was on your waist slid downwards, bunching up the edge of your nightgown until his skin grazed yours. You continued to kiss him passionately, letting him take the lead as his tongue danced with yours, and once in a while, you would moan softly into his mouth to signal the pleasure that he was clearly giving you.

Jay lifted you up, making you wrap your legs around his waist as he carefully made his way to the center of the cabin. You pulled away from the kiss to look at the bed, and Jay understood immediately. After laying you down on the bed, you quickly pulled your nightgown down to reveal your breasts, and Jay chuckled at your enthusiasm, taking his time as he took off his top and his pants.

As he stood naked in front of you, you did not even realize that you were biting your lip. Your eyes were focused on his crotch, and to save you from the embarrassment of staring too long, he began hovering over you and covering your face with kisses.

“You need to take this off completely so we can be even,” he whispered into your ear.

The tip of your fingers grazed the back of his neck as you leaned in to answer him. “Then you pull it off.”

Jay nestled his face in the crook of your neck and began kissing you there, gradually getting more aggressive until he was sucking and biting your skin. He tugged your nightgown down to your knees and you kicked them away. Immediately after, you spread your legs and pulled his body closer, and you felt the tip of his cock come in contact with your wet slit.

“Fuck,” you breathed, your hands resting on Jay’s shoulders.

“I’ve barely touched you,” Jay snickered.

You let one of your hands travel downwards, grabbing his shaft. He groaned loudly and almost collapsed on top of you, and you giggled at the sudden change of his demeanor.

“Enough teasing,” you purred, stroking his length. “Let’s just fuck.”

You aligned his cock with your entrance, coating the tip with your arousal. Jay’s biceps flexed as he tried to contain his reactions, but when he entered you, you could hear his shaky breath beside your ear. You moaned in pleasure as he bottomed out, bringing your hands back up to his shoulders. You lightly tapped him, and he began grinding his hips at a pace that was not too slow but not exactly fast either. You found it intriguing since you always viewed him as someone rough, but he held you with so much care that you had no choice but to melt in his touch.

With every stroke he made, your body moved with him. Your skin shivered wherever he touched you, and whenever he kissed you, it felt like you were wrapped in a type of warmth you had never felt before. The sounds that left your lips were like music to his ears, and as he increased his speed his hand grasped your thigh, holding your leg in place. You could almost see yourself reaching your high, but he rendered you speechless, and all you could do was frantically scratch his back with every thrust.

Eventually, your hands found their way back to his face and you pulled him into a kiss once you climaxed, softly moaning into his mouth. His thrusts slowed down, but once you stopped whimpering, he began speeding up again. Your eyes began to water from the overstimulation, but after a couple more strokes he pulled out and spilled his seed over your stomach.

Jay collapsed beside you, brushing his hair back with his fingers and wiping the sweat on his forehead with the back of his hand. You looked at him as he panted, catching his own breath. Once he did, he looked at you and you smiled.

“Not bad,” you commented, hovering over him and straddling him for one second to leave a quick peck on his lips. He reciprocated your kiss and spanked your ass before you hopped off and walked away to retrieve your nightgown.

“So, if the crew end up voting me as the new captain,” you said as you got dressed, “does that mean I get to choose a new first mate?”

Jay shrugged, still lying down on your bed in all his naked glory. “If they choose me, will you still be my first mate?”

You looked at each other in question for a couple of seconds before Jay started laughing. You rolled your eyes and walked away to grab yourself a drink, trying to ignore the fact that what you did tonight with Jay had completely changed the meaning of the words ‘first mate’.

-END-

© forjongseong 2023, all rights reserved

!!! do not copy, translate, or repost any of my work to any other platform.

#writtenbynana #fic: first mate #enhypen #jay #enhypen jay #jay enhypen #enhypen smut #jay smut #enhypen jay smut #jay enhypen smut #enhypen hard hours #jay hard hours #jongseong #jongseong smut #jongseong park #park jongseong #enhypen pirate au #enhypen x reader #jay x reader #jongseong x reader

[foryiujeans]

cupid’s arrow.

synopsis. a wall full of hearts and arrows written by mysterious cupids of ships around the school, what happens seeing your name with a certain someone?

pairings. crush!sung hanbin x fem!reader.

warnings. none.

word count. 3.0k

general taglist. @forsobeans

“cupid’s wall is finally here!”

you've never seen the campus so busy. large groups of students hanging around and just having a good time. you arrive with zhanghao and ricky, both of them who were staring quietly at the students. you, on the other hand, you were holding onto your phone for dear life.

within seconds you're caught up in the crowd, loosing all sense of direction as you're swept up in a sea of excited students.

“y/n!” matthew waves you over the second he spots you looking lost. a relived smile adorns your face when you see him, thankful to have found a friend when the three of you were confused by the sudden crowd.

“we’re sitting over here." yujin takes your hand to lead you to safety.

you spot gyuvin and gunwook first, the latter sending you a friendly wave as you reach them. you’re fully aware of the other presence at the table, you can feel his gaze on you but you don't get a chance to even quickly glance his way before your attention is diverted.

"scoot round." matthew laughs, indicating for them to make some room. zhanghao guides you to sit next to him, offering you a drink, which you accept right away.

ricky was standing, gazing at the people who were crowding over a wall and writing on it, “what’s with them?”

“it’s cupid’s wall,” jiwoong said, “you basically draw a heart and write two people you ship which may become true.”

the boys really wanted to check the cupid’s wall out after the crowd has cleared less. you were for sure thought it was nonsense but since they made it sound more interesting, you guessed you had to check it out as well, with your crush.

in the corner of your eye, you saw sung hanbin was conversing, joking around and talking with zhanghao who was doing his presentation on the spot with his laptop opened on the table. the sound multiple of footsteps were heard as it went away. you head lit up and saw that the cupid’s wall had no one there.

“oh cool, they all left. let’s go!” gunwook raced gyuvin to the wall and took the markers and pens that they had placed to write on.

zhanghao went after you, standing beside you as you both scanned the wall with names and hearts written on it. the introverted boy had nudged your side, catching your attention.

zhanghao x y/n.

you and zhanghao are best of friends since middle school. he had taught you how to play the violin and tutored you for the subjects that weakened you while you tutored him his weak subjects. the brunette only laughed at the two familiar names someone had written while you held onto a small smile, chuckling.

"hi y/n." the familiar voice made your heartbeat panic.

"hello hanbin."

you tried not to let your flustered state show at how endearing he was-but nonetheless still annoying.

you softly push at his shoulder which caused him to rock backwards as he was bending over with his hands on his knees to be leveled with you who was crouching. he let out a big smile, not wanting to laugh in the quiet atmosphere of the school, although tempting because of your actions that he found ridiculously adorable. shoot, he even found your deep-sleep-drooling face adorable, proved by the countless pictures of you in his phones gallery. he looked at the boys who were writing names and hearts in one same area.

"i saw your name with hao’s?" he asked me, referring to the cupid’s wall.

"ah, we’re just friends,” you sheepishly answered and frowned at the second, “i don’t know who wrote that.”

he pursed his lips into a thin line, his hand holding onto his bag, “you’re not gonna write?”

the moment you shook your head, hanbin only lets out a small laugh and ruffled your hair. the warm feeling in your stomach was about to burst and you know it. he then stared at his other friends in front of him who were pointing at names and laughing with each other.

“y/n, look!” yujin grabbed your hand and wanted to show you what he wrote. more like they wrote.

sung hanbin x y/n l/n.

the huge amount of your name and hanbin’s were scattered in the same area with pink and red hearts around it. the boys had written all of them in one big red heart with both of your names in pink hearts inside. the blush on your face was pretty visible to which gyuvin and taerae had teased you about.

with a nod, you quickly pull your hands back to break out of the visions. internally cursing yourself for being stupid enough to think that the lover in the visions had been you-just how delusional were you now? sure, you've always been a head in the clouds type of person, falling in love with the possibility that everywhere you go, the next person you meet might just be the love of your life. eye contact with the cute dog walker at the park turns into getting lost in their eyes while walking under the stars. a brush of hands with the hot barista at the local coffee shop turns into holding hands while reciting wedding vows.

and though hanbin was indeed good-looking, even with his face half hidden under the shadow of his hood, this wasn't the same. he was a friend, and you thought he only liked being friends with you. ut was silly to have thought of the possibility of being in his future in the first place, but even more ridiculous to say it out loud.

you immediately shake off the thoughts when you catch him staring.

"so?" he leans forward, looking at you like he has some big secret to share. "what did you see?"

"um, your love life will be just fine."

"yeah?"

"yeah." the small piece of lint on your sleeve becomes so interesting when trying to avoid his intense stare.

the moment of awkward silence between the two of you excluding the noises the others were making in the background was heard. it was only him staring at you with an adorned smile on his face while you were avoiding it.

“i saw it.”

"oh." you swallow the lump in your throat. "i’m not sure why it's there either."

he knew you liked him, you were just denying it.

if he does detect your lie, he doesn't say anything about it. instead, his expression morphs into something softer. "love can be found everywhere, Y/ N," he murmurs.

and how do you answer? it might be too soon for him to know about your feelings, but it's also too soon for your heart to be speeding up the way it does. for you to feel a small burst of butterflies in your stomach every time he so much as stares at you for a moment too long, and for this cover story and the re-enactments to feel more tangible than the abstract concepts they're meant to be.

"besides, i’ll be such a good date for you." hanbin releases you and steps back, smile turning shy as he holds out a hand. "or boyfriend?"

the wave of silence between the two of you didn’t even make you realise that the others were already gone.

hanbin breaks into a soft smile. "you know, i’ve always wondered what you keep thinking about. when you get lost in that world in your head, what do you see? what do you think about?"

"it’s different every time," you murmur, trying to ignore the way your palms feel all too hot intertwined with his. "but these days... it's you."

you don't tell him that it's also getting to know him, falling for him, and imagining how you should be the one doing all those things with him like in the reading. it’s picturing a love that flourishes ever so slowly, one that silently rests between the two of you, growing steadily until a day when it becomes the only thing you can hear.

and though you leave all that out, your answer seems to be enough for him.

"me?"

"yeah," you say softly, avoiding his gaze that was staring into your eyes.

your words feed the twinkle of hope in his eyes as well as the one that seemed to have been blossoming in your own heart for a while now. maybe you can finally admit it; this would be the last time you see him, so maybe it wouldn't matter what happens now.

you know it when he leans in, breath but a whisper at your ear as he says, "you’re really bad at lying that you love me, y/n."

now you don't have to look into his future to know that all the scenes you'd seen were about you. Now you can picture it — hanbin looking up from your laced hands on the table and seeing your smile, face no longer out of focus. pulling away from your kiss in the orchard has you seeing your own gaze, surprised but content. and then there's this very moment when you see yourself in hanbin’s eyes and you just know.

cupid’s wall really did brought two together.

a/n ! thank you so much for reading and giving me requests. i’m thankful that you guys enjoyed reading it and giving all the notes and support. i do not own any characters, music or pics given, will definitely work harder for the next ones !

signing out, miaaa hihi !

#zb1 #zb1 oneshots #zerobaseone #zerobaseone imagines #zb1 fics #zb1 imagines #zb1 x reader #zerobaseone fics #zerobaseone x reader #hanbin x reader #sung hanbin #sung hanbin x reader #sung hanbin imagines #hanbin imagines

[itsmebytch001]

Smoking it away: Part Two

18+

Part One Down Below.

Warnings: drugs, rehab, mean reader.

Summary: Your family, Your Dad, Auntie Rio and Uncle Jeff stage a quick intervention, afraid for your saftey, they ship you odd.

Oh fuck me

The door open's to reveals Rio, Your Dad and Miles.

Your shushed into the house as Jeff locks in behind you. Your Dad walks over to you, looming over above you looking over his face you can see looks extremly tired and dressed in sweats.

Miles: "Before we start, I just want you to know, we aren't mad and we love you"

Already, i know I'm fucked.

Aaron: "Give me the phone"

Y/N:" Excuse me?"

Aaron: "Your phone, give it to me"

Y/N:"...I don't have it?" What a shit lie Y/N

Aaron rasied an eyebrow at you, stepping closer while Jeff stalks from behind, you are now trapped between both your uncle and father, shrinking between them as they are so tall.

Jeff: "If you don't have it on you, you won't mind a pat down?"

Y/N: "Are you serious?" you ask flinching away.

Aaron: "sound's good to me"

Y/N: "what the fuck?"

Rio snaps her finger to get your attention from the coach.

Rio: "oi, don't swear in my house"

Jeff pulled you back by your shoulder as you tensed.

Y/N: "Okay! Jesus, here!" You quickly shove your phone into your Dad's hand, still Jeff had his hand on your shoulder, pushing you down into a chair that was locked in by the sofa, now you were truly in thier grasp, with Rio staring you down and Miles meekly looking at the floor, Aaron sat infont of you while Jeff to your left, he could see your eyes scan the house you had been in so many time's before, looking for a way out.

Aaron: "What's the password?"

...

Aaron: "I know you heard me what's the password"

Y/N: "77902"

He logs onto your phone and begins to scrolls, though your photos, your messages and Email, and know scrolling through your call records, you know what he's looking for.

He's looking for his contact...

Jeff Put his hand again on your shoulder.

Jeff: "How about you and Miles go hang out in his room"

Though it was framed as a question it was an order, so you and Miles awkwadrly shifted to his room, you felt strange leaving your phone alone with your Dad combing though it, but you did'nt want to create more problems.

Miles ushered you into his room where he sat on his bed, and you awkwardly stood in the corner.

Miles: "You know you can sit right?"

Y/N: "Actually, I'd rather stand"

Miles:" I know your'e mad at me for telling on you but honestly, I'm glad I did"

Y/N: "Don't brag about being untrsutworthy Miles"

Miles: "Well maybe you should be more honest"

You roll your eyes at him, while you both are silent you can hear the chatter in the living room between your Dad, Auntie Rio, and Uncle Jeff, you and Miles press your ears against the walls.

On the other side of that door, your family were debating your fate, wether to scare you straight by having Jeff arrest you, sending off to a proper rehab, or keeping you home under servillence.

All sounded terrible.

Aaron was still scrolling though your phone, skimming over text converstaions to see if he found something fishy, going through all your photos, including your secret gallery, which basically menat you were 1000000% fucked.

Photos of you smoking, drinking, snorting at parties he did't know you had gone too, with people he didn't know, looking over all these clips made him wince, clearly it was worse than he thought, if you were this able and willing to lie to him so consisntely and on such a large scale, he simply couldn't trust you anymore.

Clicking off from your phone and pocketing it he turned to his brother, and sister in law.

Aaron: "I Don't know how she's been sneaking this round me so damm long, how did I not see this"

Rio: "You musn't blame yourself Aaron, teenagers can be sneaky"

Jeff: "you were doing some shady stuff when you were her age"

Aaron: "I wasn't snorting anything! I wasn't lying to everyone in my life about where I was, who I was doing it with! I wasn't hiding drugs under the damm floor boards"

He rubs his face over, what the hell is he going to do?

Jeff: "We could do home servalince, make sure she stays clean?"

Rio: "That's not sustiable, we all have work and Miles has school there won't be anyone who to watch her"

Jeff nodded in agreement.

Jeff: "We could send her to a rehab

Rio: "Would that be covered in your insurance Aaron?"

Aaron looked down in defeat, he didn't want too send you away to rehab, all alone, but what choice did he have? None of them really wanted you whisked away to rehab, where they couldn't see you, sourrounded by other addicts with limited contact, what he really wanted to do was huddle you away in the house, keep you too himself and put bars on your windows, but he knew that wasn't sustaibable.

Aaron: " Yeah,It should cover it"

Rio: "I know a good place, I'll call them see if they have a bed free" She said softly before taking herself into her bedroom for the private call.

Aaron had his head in his hands, how did he miss the signs? was he ignoring them? looking back he could see it, how you would start massive fashion projects late at night, enthused about your new enterprise, spending all your money at once, coming into his room at 3 am asking him if he wants to watch Barbie with you, or asking to him to hold you like he used to when you were child, asking him to do your hair and baking at 2 am, all where strange but he just thought it was teenage shenagaings, not class A's.

And it made him so happy to be close to you again, for you to want to hang out, even if it was just watching a film together or helping you cut fabric for you new dress line, just to connect again like you were when you were young.

Maybe he did know, he just didn't want to accept it wasn't you, it was what ever you were taking.

Jeff could see he was struggling, but didn't know how to console him, so he just sat next to him and rubbed his back as Aaron tried not to break down.

Over hearing all this, how they were about to ship you off made you think maybe you'd prefer being arrested, you sank down your back down Mile's room door before sitting on the ground, slumped, it wasn't supposed to go this way, you're Dad was none the wiser, you were using safley, or as safley as anyone could and finally you were feeling true joy and peace, the kinda joy people like Miles felt natrually all the time, you no longer left out in really feeling.

You were eyeing the window, yeah you would drop 3 floors down and maybe you would break your legs or worse but then you wouldn't have to go rehab.

Miles sat next too you, back against the door, he tries to put his hand on your shoulder but you immedinaly flinch away.

Y/N: "Don't you ever touch me""

Miles: "Jesus sorry, calm down"

You glared at him though your eye lashes.

Y/N: "You have destroyed my life" You whisper yelled.

Miles: "Nah, you did that yourself"

Y/N: "Excuse me?"

Miles: "You told me you were smoking, if that were true your Dad would not be on your ass, maybe just ground you for a bit and get my Dad lecture you, not pose a whole family intervention and a send off to rehab"

Y/N: "If they do actually send me away, I will never fucking talk to you again"

Miles rolled his eyes with such a silly threat.

Meanwhile, back in the living room Rio came out her room having had gotten of the phone with the rehab.

Rio: "They'll have a bed later today, around 15:30"

Aaron: "Is it a good place?"

Rio: "Yes, it dose good work. It's a 6 week program and have a low repeat percenatge so I think it'll be good for her"

6 weeks, 6 whole weeks you'd be away and out the house where he couldn't see you.

Aaron: "You sure?"

Rio: "Yeah"

Aaron took a deep breath, accpeting this drastic change in events, accpeting that he would have you taken out his hands and put away in some other place with people he didn't know taking you, his only child and fixing you up.

Rio: "It's far out Brooklyn, so if you want the bed in time, I would go now"

Aaron brushed himself down before heading for Mile's room, you could hear him apparoch the door, you could recgonise his foots steps, you had trainded yourself to reconsie them for when you would use in your room to avoid being caught.

You scrambed away from the door, standing by Miles as the door knob turned.

Aaron: "Alright Baby, Let's go"

Defeated you followed him through the living room and out the door, Mile's is gestured to follow you by Rio, tagging along on your left, with Aaron on your right, trapping you again, you feel it's intetion of keeping you trapped so you couldn't pull a fast one.

Ushering you into the car, Mile's watched you get in the back of the car, then got in next to you sitting on the other side of the verchiel.

As you began to drive, your Dad kept looking back at you through the rear view mirror, exchaning eye contact with Miles.

Aaron: "So we uh, were going home to get you a bag and then...then we'll take you to that rehab place"

Already you could feel yourself tense, holding onto your joggers, breathing deeper and quicker, like you were getting ready to run.

oh fuck

Y/N: "I don't want to go"

Aaron:" You don't have a choice"

Y/N:" I am 17 years old you can't just shuttle me away"

Aaron: "you are 17 years old, I am your God damm father and you are going to rehab"

Y/N: "You are blowing this out of proportion"

Aaron: "Am I? How? How am I blowing this out proportion"

Y/N:" I am not an addict, I'm not reliant on anything, Iv'e never done injectables-"

Aaron: " 'Never done Injectables' Is the bar really that low for you?"

Y/N: "Youre wasting you damm money I don't need to go to a fucking rehab! Rehab is where you go when you overdose"

Miles: "so we just supposed to wait till you overdose, huh?"

He mutter's to himself, his head leaning on the window.

Y/N: "I am 17, it's normal to expierment with drugs!"

Aaron: "Miles?"

Miles: "Yeah?"

Aaron: "You smoking weed?"

Miles: "No"

Aaron: " You snorting coke?"

Miles: "Hell no"

Aaron: "You secret drinking?"

Miles: "Nope"

Aaron: " So how is it Miles is your age and not doing any of the same shit?"

Y/N: " Dad I...I just want to have fun"

Aaron: " You could do litreally anything and you choose hard drugs"

Y/N:" I KNOW you were smoking weed at my age"

Aaron: "Yeah I was smoking weed and it fucked me up, but you are 17 snorting shit"

You roll your eyes, sinking into your seat.

Aaron: "If Mile's hadn't told me, you would have kept going and going until you lost your grip and died"

Y/N: "It is not that fucking deep"

Miles: "Y/N, were just scared for you"

Y/N: "Oh fuck right off Miles"

Aaron: "Ay, Don't talk to him that way"

Y/N: "He snitched on me, i don't have to be nice"

Miles: "You told me it was weed and vodka, not fucking pills and shit"

Y/N: "So you snitched on me, for weed and Vodka?"

Miles: "But It wasn't just weed and Vodka!"

Y/N: "I knew I should have never told you, I shouldn't have known you would just cause a big thing of it, you know Miles, the whole reason i stared disstacing myself from you is beacuse how fucking over bearing and demanding you are"

Miles: "What?"

Aaron: "Okay Y/N shut up"

As he pulled up at a red light you and Miles looked out in opposite directions out each window, when you noticed the child locks weren't on.

You rest your hand over the door handle, waiting for one of them to notice, but they don't.

Your breath increases, you're ready to run.

You Open the car door, leaning out of it as your dad screams for you to sit down, your head and shoulders are out the door.

You think your'e out.

Until you feel the ends of your hair being pulled back and your'e arm grabbed by Mile's.

He pull's you in with great force as you begin to thrash.

Y/N: "get the fuck off me!"

Aaron: "Miles, Miles the door!" He yells.

While Miles is holding you down, as you try despratley to kick and cry, he slides himself over the car seats and slams the door shut.

You sat up, pushing Miles away by his shoulders, he takes your hands and shoves them down onto the car seat, he scrambles on top of you and keeps you in place, his left forearm pressed over your collarbone, imobileizing you.

Y/N: "Get THE FUCK OFF ME!" You scream, on lookers think this is a kidnapping, Miles looks over at his Uncle.

Aaron: "Hold her there"

Miles Looks down at you crying, hyperventializing trying despretaly trying to wriggle away.

Miles: "Calm the fuck down"

Y/N: "Get the fuck off me you son of a bitch!"

You tried to raise your head to get him off you, but his press tough.

Miles: "Stop fucking moving"

Y/N: " I Hate you" You whipser up at him.

Minutes later, after your crying and screaming had subsided, he got off you sitting across from you again as the car pulled up outside you're building.

Aaron: "Imma go pack you a bag, stay here"

The door open and closes as Aaron leaves to go pack you a bag.

Y/N: "I wanna step out for a sec, strech my legs"

Miles: "How do I know you're not going to try and run off again, hmm?"

YN: "Okay, whatever Miles"

...

...

...

Y/N: "Why are you here Miles?"

Miles: "What do you mean?"

Y/N: "You didn't have to be here right now, in this car involing yourself in something that isn't you're buisness"

Miles: "My buinesse? Y/N You are my Family it is my buinesse"

Y/N rolled her eyes out the window, Mile's kept looking over at the handle, just waiting for you to make a move.

About 10 minutes later, you Dad came back with a suit case, putting it in the boot of the car, he plopped himself back in the drivers seat.

Aaron: "Miles, You still wanna ride with us?"

Miles: "...Yeah"

You drove for about two hours, and it was painfully silent, neither you or Miles made eye contact, both just staring out the window. Your Dad would occesianlly look over at you through the rear view mirror.

Once you eventually pulled up on the place, in an isolated field with only the one road leading you out, you exit the car to face the bulilding.

it looks like a prison, a tall, massive grey builiding with many windows, all barred. Aaron got your bag from the boot and handed it to you to carry.

Miles caught you again, looking over your souroudings as if for an out, he exchanged you a warning look and stalked up uncomfortley close to you, while your Dad guided you in the waiting area.

You sat in the waiting area with Mile's, beginning to panic. it really began to set in. They're going to lave you here, in this place with stranges, alone.

And the worst part was, you wouldn't have the company of any drugs, no weed no alcohol, just you.

Twiddling your hands nervoulsy, Miles obeserved you rubbing your hands together and felt the need comfort you, but knew right now, you really didn't feel like talking to him.

While Aaron checked you inn, he kept glancing over at you, wondering, is this a mistake? could he just keep you sober at home?

He hadn't handed you over yet, he could just drive take off back home, but the desk lady see's this seconding guessing in his eyes as he gazes at you. She places her hand on his and mutters "It's an excellent program".

This dose nothing to sooth him, but he dose sign off the paper work, handing you over to this faceless place for a whole month, did he really want to do this? No but though he wanted you home, he knew ratinally, it was best letting you here.

As your Dad timidly signs off your paper work you see two men approach through the glass walls in all white, you feel like running but know Miles could just drag you back, you don't want to go, you are not an addict, what is happening.

Before they reach the fresh hold of the waiting room, you Dad kneels in front of you while sitting in the waiting chair.

Aaron: "Listen baby, I'm gonna drop you here for a bit, and these people are gonna help you sort yourself out kay?"

You didn't answer, you just stared out at the approching men.

Clutching your bag, as your Dad watches helpless, these two men guide you out the waiting area, their hands on your shoulders.

You take one last look at your Dad and cousin, looking right into Miles's his eyes before mouthing to him, 'I hate you'...

They watched as you were slinked off futher and futher away until you dissaprear down the hall...

END OF CHAPTER TWO

Chapter one----->

CHAPTER 3???

#yandere spiderverse #yandere miles morales #platonic yandere #family yandere #aaron davis #uncle aaron #rio morales x reader #jefferson morales #yandere jeff morales #Yandere Morales family #aaron davis x reader

[onskepa]

Can we get a neteyam x human reader?? She's lyle's daughter, also human and made friends with spider. When lo'ak comes to save him, he wants to take her with him but she can't just leave her dad here

You can end it however you want

Hellooooooooooo sweetie~!!

So I hope you dont mind this being a short one, but its a good one! Enjoy~!!

---------

Yewn

“Do you ever think we might see them…?” Young spider asks his sister at arms, Yewn. The young girl thinks about the question and shakes her head. “I don't think so, they are dead for a long time. It is like Jake said, good riddance” she replies. 

Both lay down on top of the old lab shack, staring up at the night sky. 

“They were bad guys, and killed a lot of the na’vi…” Spider says, convincing himself of certain feelings. 

“Exactly. So stop thinking about our dads, I bet they won't even care if they do come back from the dead” 

“Kid, you won't last another day if you don't eat, '' Lyle Wainfleet says. He bends down looking rather tired and slightly annoyed. 16 year old yewn just stared at him as if he was the worst shit on the entire planet. To which he is in her eyes.

“Fuck off” was all she says time and time again.

“Yewn-”

“Shut up, don't call me that. You have no right to call me that!” yewn yells at him in anger. A lot was happening in such a short time. Her friends were attacked and held hostage, went to help, spider’s mask broke, stayed behind to help him, only to be taken and be separated from him.

The room is cold, colder than the labs. Everything was so lifeless. She hated it.

But there is nothing more she hates, than the man, or dreamwalker in front of her.

“If you don't eat, you will die, '' Lyle tells her again. And again, yewn just hisses at him.

“Good, I would rather die than confess anything to you or that old bitch!”

Lyle rolls his eyes, hopefully quaritch has better luck than him.

Her plan was cut way too short. Spider took the lead in showing the recoms how to climb, run, and jump through the big vines and floating mountains. Spider was a true expert in that field, so yewn stayed a little more behind. By adding more pressure to the weak points of the vines, the goal was to tear some down but the recoms would step on them by their own body weight. Spider was doing the same, the plan was to have them all step in a weak vine so that they can fall to their deaths. 

Obviously that didn't work. 

Lyle was quick to catch what she and spider were doing. While he did not report to Quaritch what they were quietly doing, lyle took it upon himself to straighten the kids out. 

“If you want us dead, it will take a lot more than that” he tells Yewn. And yewn would take note of it. Next time, she will do better. 

“Getting the hang of it now” Lyle says as he flies on his ikran with yewn. The girl missed flying up high in the sky. The thrill of doing amazing tricks, how nete-

No, while Yewn is still in the human's custody, no thoughts of him will appear in her mind. Anything can happen and they can use whatever she accidently shares against her. 

Besides, there is something else occupying her mind and her full attention. 

“Come on bro! We have to get them, they are still on the ship!” Lo’ak pleads to neteyam. It didnt take much to convince the older brother, nodding eagerly, both head deeper to the ship to find their friends. All the while trying to avoid enemies all around. 

Quietly they climb up some pipes and hide, lo’ak points downwards to see spider and yewn being shoved somewhere. 

“We get it! We are going, fucking bastards” spider cusses at the humans behind him. Him and yawn look really annoyed, but oddly compliant. Taking the chance, the brothers jumped and began to attack the humans. 

Yewn and spider were surprised to see them but quickly catched on. Fighting as well, the four managed to take down the humans around them. Taking the weapons, neteyam, lo’ak, spider and yewn were armed and ran for the edge of the ship. 

“Come on, come on! We are almost there!” neteyam yells, shoving yewn forward until bullets were being shot. 

“GO GO GO!” spider yells, he and lo’ak jump first into the sea. But yewn and neteyam couldnt in time. 

“Yewn get back over here!” 

Neteyam turns to see a false avatar, his gun pointing at him. 

“I won't tell you again, come here now!” the fake shouted. Neteyam looks down and sees yewn shaking. Was it fear? Hesitance?

She was close to taking a step forward but neteyam stopped her. 

Yewn looks up at him, ready to cry. 

“Are you insane!? Lets go, he won't hurt you again” neteyam burgers her, shifting her closer to the edge but yewn fights back. “No no! You don't get it! I can't just leave him!” Yewn shouts. Her fear and desperation growing. 

“Yes you can, he hurt you!” neteyam shouts back. But yewn only looks back at lyle, their eyes making contact. Yewn knows he is silently pleading to go to him. That part yewn is afraid of. To go back to lyle means to go back to those horrid conditions the general had her go under. 

“No! I just cant leave him like this-” 

“And why the hell not?!” 

“BECAUSE HE IS MY DAD!!”

“Hey lyle-” 

“You know, you can call me dad if you like…” recom lyle informs yewn in an awkward way. Yewn looks up at him, almost in a disapproving look. There was a few seconds of silence before Yewn walked on the other side of the room, not continuing what she was going to say. 

Lyle walked over to see what she wanted to tell him. “Hey, im sorry, I thought that it-” 

“Would be easier for me? Think again, you are just forcing yourself. I will never call you dad. You don't deserve that title. Not now, not ever fuckface” Yewn states with disgust in her tone. Lyle sighed, hanging his head low. Just when he thought where was progress, he took 5 steps back.

“He is my dad….and I just cant leave him….” Yewn cries out to neteyam. This was massive news to him. But he concludes that staying in the massive prison was messing with yewns mind. Making her think things that are not true. 

If they weren't in such a situation, lyle would hug her and say sweet words in her ear. Finally yewn accepted him, but now there is a problem that lies between lyle and yewn. Just one bullet should be enough to take down that savage boy of Sully’s. 

“YEWN!” he calls to her, his daughter turns to look at him, her eyes distraught, not knowing what to do. 

“Please yewn, we are so close! Come on, he is not your dad! He is dead! I won't let you be surrendering to him or any evil sky demon!” Neteyam shouts loud enough for Lyle to hear. And it is ticking him off. 

Neteyam guide yewn close to the edge, their hearts racing. To calm her as he leads her to the edge, he places his hand on her shoulder, urging her more to jump. Neteyam can finally save her!

Yewn was looking down at the sea, her ears ringing. Could she go? Could she leave lyle and-

BANG!

Aaaaaaaaaaand that is it for this one! Hope you all enjoyed this one! Until next time! See ya!

--------

Yewn = express convey (a thought or feeling)

#avatar #avatar the way of water #na'vi x reader #na'vi avatar #avatar 2 #na'vi x human #neteyam sully #neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan #neteyam x you #neteyam x reader #atwow neteyam #avatar twow #avatar lyle wainfleet #lyle wainfleet #neteyam x y/n #neteyam x oc

[daytaker]

Could you perhaps write something where gn!mc is just,,, a complete asshole. Fully standoffish and rude, I think it'd be hilarious [bonus points if they have a traumatic backstory for WHY]

No bonus points for me because my asshole MCs exist in a state of suspended animation and they're just like this Because They Are.

Now, I go on and actually explore my idea from an earlier prompt that MC being standoffish would derail the entire plot of OG Season 1 since it requires them to help Belphie get out of the attic.

And if you're wondering, yes, Solomon is quoting KJV Book of Revelation at the end there.

How Your Year-Long Vacation In the Devildom Ended in the Apocalypse

or; Asshole Standoffish MC says what?

Ship: None Word Count: ~1.3k Triggers: Uhhhh... (points to the title)

-----

You're not here to make friends.

And you're definitely not here to date any million-year-old demons who look like they stepped out of the pages of Esquire.

You're here because you're Fate's favorite bitch, and apparently you haven't been suffering enough lately.

So you go ahead and announce all that to your host family the first time you all sit down for dinner.

"...Are humans like that?" asks Asmodeus, looking between you and his brothers. "...I...I don't remember humans being like that."

"Wow. Okay," says Leviathan, staring at his Switch. "First of all, what's your damage. Second, you should probably find the demons who are interested in dating you and let them know, lmao." He fist-bumps Mammon without looking up from the screen.

"What's Esquire?" asks Beel.

"I'm gonna go eat in my room," you say. "Goodnight."

As you leave, you hear Mammon mumble, "Well, they were right about being a bitch."

------

Things aren't any less irritating at that stupid school. Honestly, who names a school after themselves and the fact that they're royalty? Was he just trying to make an easy acronym? Seriously. 'Royal Academy of Diavolo'.... It makes you cringe, hard.

So you sit in the back of all your classes and doodled your favorite sleep paralysis monsters getting closer and closer to the foot of your bed over the course of the day. You're just getting to where you can see the empty white scleras staring up at you when Dumb, Dumb, and Dumber turn up, A.K.A. the other exchange students, A.K.A. Simeon the Angel (dumb), Luke the Baby Angel (also dumb), and Solomon (dumber), the immortal human sorcerer and also the ancient king of Jerusalem? (Like, that Solomon? What the fuck, why does he look like a twenty-three year old anime boy?)

"You must be the newest exchange student," says the tall angel.

"Yeah, and?" you answer.

"Hey, you don't need to be so rude to him!" says the baby angel. His voice makes you want to throw yourself into a furnace.

"Yeah, and?" you answer again.

"Haha! So the new student has some spunk! I like that," says the Biblical king.

"Why are you all bothering me? I was drawing my sleep par--"

"We should all hang out at Purgatory Hall sometime," suggests Simeon, proving he hasn't been paying attention. "By the way, why did Diavolo end up putting you in with the brothers instead of situating you with us?"

"Because I walk around naked at night and I don't care who sees, and there's a child in your dorm."

"Really?" asks Simeon, covering Luke's ears. "Why do you do that?"

"Because fuck you, that's why. Leave me alone."

"I don't remember humans being like that," murmurs Simeon to Solomon as they walk away.

------

"I'm a human too," says the demon in the attic.

"Uh-huh," you say with undisguised skepticism. "And you want me to forge pacts because...?"

"Because then you can release me. Us humans have to stick together."

You let that hang there for a few seconds before dropping the ax.

"...So I know you're Belphegor. Because your fucking picture is up in the house. You absolute moron."

His expression drops.

"You idiot. You lying shit. Don't waste my time like this again. I'm not forging pacts with any demons. I know you missed my first dinner here, but to sum it up: I'm not here to make friends."

"I don't remember humans being like this," he mumbles to himself. "Wha- hey! Wait! Where are you going?! Come back! Come- come back!!!"

-----

It's Diavolo's birthday party, and Lucifer forces you to come.

By that, I mean he physically picks you up and drags you there while you struggle and rage.

"I don't remember humans being like this," Diavolo says to Barbatos with some concern as he sees you carried thrashing through the entry.

"Oh, they absolutely are," argues Solomon. "I only calmed down after I'd been around about a hundred years. But for their stage of development, I'd say they're pretty much par for the course."

Barbatos stares blankly at Solomon as Diavolo nods sagely. "I see, I see... I suppose I'll have to keep that in mind when selecting our next exchange student."

-----

"Finally! The year is almost up, which means this loser's going back to the human world, and Belphie's gonna come back home!" cheers Mammon.

"Very expository of you," Satan replies dryly.

"Oh, Belphie is Belphegor, right? Your youngest brother?" you ask, looking up from the knife you've been sharpening. It's one of the chores you reluctantly accepted over the course of your stay here. You're taking care of your knife duties while brothers 2 and 4 cook dinner.

"Uh, obviously," snorts Mammon. "Why, what do you care? You'll be gone before he gets here."

"I forgot I never mentioned this to any of you. He's in the attic."

Mammon and Satan stare at you. Mammon chuckles nervously. "Whaaa? Don't be stupid, there's nothing up in the attic. Lucifer doesn't even let us go up there."

You stare back at him, unblinking. The two brothers glance at each other.

-----

You sit on your suitcase in the front hall of the House of Lamentation as the place goes up in flames.

Beelzebub is in a mindless rage, cursing Lucifer and breaking down walls. Every now and then, the entire house rumbles, indicating its structural integrity is just that much less solid.

Leviathan summoned Lotan in a moment of panic when Mammon kicked his door in and announced that Belphegor was going to war against the human world and Lucifer and Diavolo and he'd better pick sides before he got drafted, so the entire ground floor is soaked in a few inches of water and tentacles keep reaching out from the depths of the house. You swat them away whenever they get too close. You're not sure where Levi is now, but based on the fact you can hear Mammon screaming and pounding at the bathroom door, you can make a good guess.

Asmodeus released Cerberus from the basement after charming him, and when he realized the dog was too enraptured to obey Lucifer, the pressure got to him and he fled. Now the two are on the war path to Majolish, because 'all this drama is stressing [them] out' and 'this is how [they] cope, okay?'

Lucifer is grappling with Belphie and Satan, who, upon hearing that Belphie intended to rebel against Lucifer, joined his cause. He keeps trying to bang their heads together; you can see it happening in front of the fireplace down the hall. But Satan's tail keeps slashing at him like some sort of prehensile melee weapon and it's clearly at least somewhat effective.

Looking up, you see what appears to be a pair of dragons grappling in the sky, and all around you are the sounds of screams and sirens. The earth rumbles around you, and even the stars seemed to be falling from the sky.

"I can't believe you did it!"

You turn around in surprise as the door opens. Solomon stands there, beaming at you like a proud father. "You really did it! You broke the sixth seal!"

"Sorry, what?"

"'And I beheld when he had opened the sixth seal, and, lo, there was a great earthquake; and the sun became black as sackcloth of hair, and the moon became as blood!'"

"Sorry, what?"

The roof begins to cave in, so you step out of the way, and Solomon laughs maniacally.

"It's still going! 'And the great kings of the land said to the mountains and rocks, "Fall on us, and hide us from the face of him that sitteth on the throne!"'" Another chunk of the ceiling crashes directly in front of you.

"Are you high?"

"Yes!"

"Share."

So we smoke a joint, staring up through the broken roof into the starless sky, watching demons and brawl, awaiting the breaking of the seventh seal: silence.

#ask response #dthc #daytaker fanfic #i have no idea what happened towards the end #i just went all out #obey me #obey me fanfic #fanfic #solomon #mc #lucifer #diavolo #satan #mammon #barbatos #levi #simeon #luke #asmo #beel #belphie #ensemble #anon ask #i might be inconsistent with my writing time-wise but you can't deny these mcs i pump out are metal as fuck

[bubuslutty]

Omg, what would Pirate! John Price and the reader say to each other or do the first time he saves her... when they stare at each other after that crazy moment at the wedding?

omg thank u so much for the ask, anon!

pirate!Captain Price au

word count: 813

I imagine that it's pretty intense because I'm assuming the reader never killed anyone before, much less stabbed them, so she's pretty much in shock I think. 

She's panting, trying to get as much oxygen in her lung as she can while Price's men stare at her, casting shadows above her and John, and she doesn't give a shit about the pirates because she just killed a man and it feels like her heart's about to stop.

John sits up in a squat and glances at his men, giving them a look that says 'go away' and they do leave them alone, busying themselves with their usual duties while their Captain stays there with the bride, who looks like is about to pass out any second now. 

"I killed him," She whispers and John looks at her, a cloth hovering over his blade so he could clean it. "I killed him," She repeats, meeting John's eyes and a single tear falls down her cheek and he feels a little bad now. 

"He probably deserved it." John says slowly, sliding the cloth over the blade to clean it, he'll have to probably soak it in hot water later on to get rid of the smell of blood.

She pauses her freaking out and stares at John with wide eyes, she licks her dry lower lip and John thinks she's about to tell him something, tell him what he did, or what happened to lead to this, to the murder of the man she was supposed to marry.

"I need to turn myself in." She realizes with wide eyes, looking down at her hands, still sitting on the floorboards of John's deck. "I need to turn myself in."

"No, you're not." John frowns and that actually surprises her.

"I need to." She repeats, reaching to remove the veil that was pinned to her hair and throws it to the side, now exposing her naked face to the salty winds and John's eyes. 

"Do you even know what they'll do to you if you do that? You'll ruin your life. I say you run for as long and as far as you can. Do you have anyone on land you can trust?" John asks her and she's so lost and confused, is this how pirates are supposed to behave? 

She was sure he was a pirate, the way he dressed, the way his men didn't have a uniform and how they attacked their ship with ease. 

The bride thinks for a moment and shakes her head, she doesn't have anyone she can trust left. 

John sighs and he scratches the back of his neck, "Look, how about you stay here for now until I figure out what to do with you?"

"Stay here– I don't want to stay here. Turn me in." She begged, smaller hands clutching onto her dress, her legs refusing to work so she's still bound to the floor, bending her neck to be able to see his face while he stands over her.

"I promise you, you don't want that. You'll be hanged, but not before they make sure they use you in any way they can." John says easily, not sugarcoating the truth and watching her with unimpressed eyes. 

How naïve.

The bride's eyes are starting to water again and her lower lip wobbles and Price feels a bit guilty, like he'd made the prettiest princess cry on his ship. 

"I killed him." She repeats again, voice wet and shaky, chest heaving up and down when she replays her actions for the millionth time in her head. 

"You didn't." Price's mouth says before he thinks. 

"What?" She sniffles and John's shocked at how he let himself slip like that. He grips his sword tighter, and lifts it up. 

"It's my sword who killed him. I killed him, not you." He says. 

"I doubt his family will tell the public their son was stabbed by his bride. They'll probably blame it on me, to twist a story of bravery and courage. They will probably tell everyone how hard he fought me but was outnumbered and died, and how I kidnapped his bride." Price says while the bride listens to him with her lips parted in shock. 

"How are you so sure?" She asks, quietly, her voice getting carried by the winds and almost overpowered by the sound of crashing waves. 

"Just trust me and I'll keep you safe." He says, smiling a bit. 

And she wants to push him to explain, wants to stand up and scream, but she can't, because not only her legs are refusing to work but her body has decided to stop working all together. She let's out a stuttered breath as her eyelids gets heavy, and the last hing She remembers was a big warm hand on her cheek, cushioning her face from the cold scratchy floorboards. 

#cod mw2 #call of duty #captain john price #john price x reader #john price #captain price smut #captain john price x reader #bubuslutty writes #bubuslutty ask #captain john price smut #captain price #captain john price x female reader #captain price x reader #captain price x you #captain price x y/n #captain price x female reader #john price imagine #john price x female reader #john price x you #john price x y/n #cod mw2 x reader #cod mw2 smut #cod smut #cod #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader

[callsign-relic]

Hiya! I hope you’re doing well! I was wondering if you’d be interested in making a continuation of the one TFP Starscream fic with the (people pleaser) reader in the forest? It was really fun to read, thank you by the way! Perhaps them bonding or something, or just hangin out? Also, pardon me, but could the reader be artistically inclined? Or just an artist or someone who enjoys drawing. Thank you for your time!

Hi, it’s nice to hear from you again! I’m doing well, thank you for asking! This dynamic was so fun to get back to! The last fic was so fun to write, and I’m happy to say the same for this one too :)

The original fic can be found here!

I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: SFW, Fem!Human!Reader

The little forest hideaway by the waterfall quickly became a regular meeting spot for you and Starscream. Regrettably so, at least to the mech, evidenced by how constantly he made you aware of how much he despised your presence- but, c’mon! If you ran into a giant talking robot, wouldn’t you want to hang out with it more?

The first few times you had acted like you ran into that spot again by accident, but you knew the seeker was aware of what you were doing the whole time, so eventually you stopped kidding yourself and just started casually showing up. Over time, his attitude towards you seemed to relax, if only a little. And while Starscream was the prickly type, you could handle his snide comments if it meant he didn’t threaten to shoot his missiles at you.

So, there you were- sitting with your legs crossed atop a rock beside the rushing river that flowed from the waterfall. The mech was faced away from you, sat cross legged as well and fiddling with a piece of technology in his claws. He had remarked once that he had another base of operations- a wrecked ship by the name of The Harbinger, from which he found these pieces of what looked to you like scrap metal- but he still frequented the forest as the sound of the water supposedly helped him concentrate.

You had once asked if you could see The Harbinger.

Starscream declined.

Oh well, you’d get to see more of his culture someday. Till then, you were content with just being near the bot. Taking care to be as quiet as possible- part of the agreement of you being able to stay was if you didn’t bother him while he worked- you dig around the travel bag at your side. Soon enough, you pull out your trusty sketchbook and mechanical pencil.

You leaf through some of the first, filled pages. Lined with random doodles here and there, only a couple pages housed sketches you found worthy to share. But as the pages went on, the artwork became more refined- and one subject in particular appeared over and over again until it was practically all the pages were made up of.

Starscream.

What could you say? The mech’s anatomy fascinated you. It couldn’t have hurt to do a couple of direct observation studies, right? You cringed at some of your first few attempts- his form was completely alien to you, so it would make sense that things looked off at first. You instead focused on practicing one part of him at a time. His head, his chassis, his servos… and eventually, you felt confident enough to try and piece them all together.

In his frustration, the mech had shifted himself in profile to you, rather than facing the opposite direction. You suppressed a grin- this was the perfect opportunity.

Your mechanical pencil danced across the page as your eyes flicked back and forth between the bot and the sketchbook. First you got the initial shapes of his frame down, then the more complicated sections of his plating- it felt good to finally get into the groove.

“What are you doing?”

You flail your arms in shock, the sketchbook jumbling into the air before you catch it and hug it tightly against your chest. Starscream stares at you with squinted optics and a raised optical ridge. He said nothing more, so obviously he was expecting some sort of reply.

“What, uh, what do you mean?” You ask, plastering on a smile that, despite your best efforts, came out crooked.

“You’re awfully quiet, fleshy,” the mech replies. While your agreement of staying quiet did stand, you had to admit, you did often ask him a lot of questions anyway. While he did answer them- not without first making a show of how much of a pain it was- something told you that he just liked hearing the sound of his own voice, allowing you to ask as much as you liked. “What are you scheming?”

“Scheming? Nothing! I’m not scheming or doing anything like that!” You scramble to say. Your grip on your sketchbook grows tighter. It was one thing to visit him and press him for fun facts, but if Starscream ever saw that the main subject of your artwork for the past month was solely him? You had a feeling this visit would’ve been your last.

“Really?” He grumbles, optics shifting downward the slightest bit. “Then what is that thing you seem so bent on protecting?”

“Nothing!” You lie. Despite your words, your arms don’t budge.

“If you’re planning on betraying me, you’re doing a bad job at hiding it.” He casts whatever he was working on aside, shifting to face you on his knees and reaching a long servo out to you. You scoot backwards, but the rough surface of the rock upon which you sat caused friction against your behind— you were moving a lot slower than you would have liked.

His hand raises directly above you, blotting out the sun overhead. You shut your eyes tightly, bracing to be grabbed—

Except, it never happens.

You crack open an eye, only to see the mech’s index finger and thumb directly before you. Your sketchbook is plucked from your grasp with ease. You jump to your feet, futilely reaching up for it to no avail.

Starscream brings the book to his faceplate, carefully opening it with the very tips of his pointed servos. How he handled such a tiny thing in his claws so well astounded you. Perhaps you should’ve given him more credit when it came to knowing what he was doing.

He flips through the first pages with a bored look, but as he progresses, his squint becomes more intense. “Are these…” he finally speaks, breaking the agonizing silence, “…supposed to be me?”

You swallow. You couldn’t read his expression as good or bad, nor gather anything besides the usual annoyance from his tone. “Yes,” you finally bring yourself to admit. There was no point in hiding it now. “I-I mean, I know they’re not that good still, I was just doing them for practice. If you want me to stop, I can do that…”

As you frantically ramble, it takes a moment for the mech to tear his optics away from the pages and look to you. When your stammering comes to a stop, he’s silent for one more moment before reaching back out and placing the sketchbook back before you.

You look down to bring the book into your arms once more, and when you look back up, it’s as if nothing ever happened. Starscream was sat back down in profile to you, uselessly tinkering with the metal in his hands. You look around, wondering if all of that was somehow one big hallucination.

“You’re… not mad?” You squeak.

The seeker doesn’t turn to you when he answers. “I cannot deny talent when it is there, though I do not know much of the arts.”

You blink for a second. Was that a compliment? Had he just said his very first nice thing to you?!

“S-So… can I keep doing it?” You were terrified of pushing your luck, but if he didn’t want you drawing him, you didn’t want to overstep any boundaries.

“I couldn’t care less what you do, human,” he shoots a quick, pointed glare, “but… if my frame is truly of such interest to you, I would not object to being the subject matter for a little longer.”

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