#Cold Spring Brook

[rabbitcruiser]

Forest (No. 218)

Port Byron, NY (five pics)

Syracuse, NY (five pics)

[unboundprompts]

prompts for spring, summer, autumn, winter eyes! (The characters literally stand for each season!! They have eyes that hold the seasons)

Different Ways to Describe Seasonal Eyes

-> feel free to edit and adjust pronouns as you see fit.

Spring

He had eyes like the fields of the pastures, green grass nearly up to your knees.

Her eyes were the flower beds that his mother used to prepare when spring finally arrived after a cold winter. Flowers would bloom and blossom in every color imaginable.

Their eyes were like the honey from the honeybees that arrived with the promise of spring.

Summer

Her eyes were a babbling brook, like crisp water on a warm day.

He had eyes that blazed like a hot summer sun.

Their eyes were warm rays and beach days, filled with laughter and freedom.

Autumn

She had eyes the color of the dying leaves, painted red, yellow, and brown.

His eyes were a winding road on a foggy morning, dying branches scratching at the edge.

Their eyes were of burnt out candles, pumpkins placed on doorsteps, and footsteps splashed in puddles on an old street.

Winter

His eyes were snowflakes, irises decorated with a delicate design.

She had eyes like icy mountains and falling snow.

Their eyes were a crisp breeze in the dead of winter, a frozen pond on a stagnant afternoon.

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[rin-tales]

cranky cook - sanji x you

BASICALLY sanji is sleep deprived and gets cranky and a lil bit jealous. brooke makes a guest appearance

w.c - 5k. not edited

I bolted upright in my bed, letting out heavy pants as I felt chills go down my body. My entire figure was shaking, but I couldn’t help it. These dreams were always too real, too lifelike. I glanced around the room, shared with Robin and Nami, to make sure I hadn’t woken them up. As soon as I confirmed they were asleep, I tiptoed out of my bed, curling my arms around myself, to protect me from the cold, and from any nightmarish zombies that could spring out at any moment. Despite knowing they weren’t real, I couldn’t shake the terrifying feeling that coursed through me. I quickly made my way down the hall, hoping my lover, Sanji, was occupying the kitchen, and that this journey wasn't for nothing.

I reached my destination perhaps a bit too quickly than I should’ve, but the nightmarish zombies had only spurred me on. I gently opened the door, afraid to awaken him should he be sleeping at the table. The view of the kitchen spread out before me. He certainly was at the table, but no more asleep than I was. His legs were spread out as he slouched over the piece of wood, one hand holding a cigarette just centimeters from his mouth.

He immediately perked up when he saw me, eyes scanning my body to take in my disheveled state. It didn’t take him long to put the pieces together. After all, while this may have been the first time I sought his presence after a nightmare, he knew I had been dealing with them ever since we left the zombie island.

His face morphed into concern, but I beat him to his words. “Can you… Hold me?” I asked in a hoarse whisper, my wavering voice giving away how shaken I was. Despite asking the question, I was already shuffling towards him.

“Mellorine, do you even need to ask?” He quickly extinguished his cigarette and turned his chair, opening his arms for me.

I silently straddled myself in his lap, molding my chest against his. I hugged him tightly, burying my face against his neck. My breaths fluttered across his neck, bouncing back to warm my face. I answered sleepily and somewhat incoherently, “Yeah, because you’re a zombie…”

His hands gently found their way under my shirt, skimming every inch of my bare waist. His warm fingers caressed my hips, nearly sending a chill through me, before settling his arms comfortably around me, and holding me tight. As he eased into my hold, I could practically see the fear melting off of me, being replaced by something much more warm. I could feel him burning with questions, especially since he wasn’t normally this quiet when comforting me. But I couldn't be more thankful as his lack of conversation allowed me to slowly fall asleep. My lips twitched against his neck, despite the fear I had felt only moments ago. How observant this man was.

“I should really hope not…” He murmured. I heard the click of his lighter flaming another cigarette, just moments before succumbing to sleep.

=+=

And so the cycle began. I awoke, terrified out of my skin. I found Sanji’s presence. I slept through the night.

After about 4 consecutive days of this, the effects of my endeavors were beginning to make themselves known. Specifically through the darkened, sleep-deprived eyes of Sanji. Every night, this man had ensured he stayed awake until I found him. And even then, would only allow himself to sleep in brief increments, checking on me occasionally. Despite that, I had felt increasingly guilty that I only realized this after Franky had said something at breakfast this morning, and that I hadn’t figured it out myself.

We had all made our way to the kitchen per usual. Breakfast was an interesting meal, as there wasn’t a set time due to everyone’s sleep schedules. However, due to my nightmares, I had become increasingly clingy towards Sanji, and would hardly leave his side. This meant I sat through every serving of breakfast the cook would serve for the crew.

About an hour after we had woken up, Franky and Robin made their way to the kitchen, sitting at their respective seats at the table.

“Morning guys,” I yawned.

Robin gave a small smile, “Morning.”

Franky gave a silent large wave as he ran a hand down his tired face.

Sanji whisked by, carrying two dishes that he dramatically placed before them. “For the beautiful lady, and the robot.”

“Ahh,” Franky began, practically salivating at the food, “Looking SUPER as always!” Whatever tiredness there was before, seemed to have been instantly dispelled at the sight of food.

Sanji found his way back to my side at the bar. We faced the other crew members at the table and I cracked a smile at Franky’s enthusiasm over food.

Sanji leaned against the bar, “The captain’s favorite is on the menu today,” he replied.

Robin took a bite, “Shouldn’t you call him before the food’s gone then?” she hummed.

“That idiot’s always stealing food. It’s on him if he’s late,” replied the blonde with a yawn.

“Would you save the food if I was the late one?” I asked teasingly, simply wanting a flirty response in that moment.

Before Sanji could reply, however, the blue-haired man beat him too it. “As if you would be late. You’re practically machine-welded to the side of that man.”

“Well, he’s like my personal therapist. So…” I trailed off.

Franky slurped his food, “Is he your therapist at night too?” He said this so matter-of-factly that I almost didn't pick up on the underlying message he sent.

I blinked, “Wha-”

Sanji crossed his legs, his head now resting on his shoulder with his eyes closed. Had he not spoken I would've thought he was asleep. “She has nightmares, cyborg. Get off her case.”

I bit my lip, why did both of them sound almost irritated right now?

Franky raised an eyebrow at him, “Well in that case maybe she gets a pass.”

“Is there something going on?” I spoke up.

The robot-man looked up at me from eating another spoonful. “You’re running him dry. Don’t you see how exhausted that man is?”

Sanji sat upright, repositioning himself in his seat as if he had just woken up. He let out a yawn, “Don’t listen to him, Mellorine. Nothing you’re doing is wrong.”

I glanced at the blonde. As if my eyes had finally been opened, I took in just how exhausted his man looked. The overly-dark circles under his eyes, the disheveled hair, the fact that he had been wearing the same outfit for almost two days straight. I gulped, “Sanji have you been getting any sleep…?”

He nodded and let out a hum, but not before letting out a long yawn. “I wouldn’t mind a quick nap though.”

I turned to Robin, who had a knowing look on her face. “I’m surprised you didn’t realize it, but... No offense Sanji, but you've been less and less yourself the past couple of days. You need your sleep.”

I reached for his hand, gently wrapping his fingers in between his, “Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked quietly, guilt running through me.

He faced me, trying to blink away his exhaustion, but the simple fact that he didn’t respond to Robin’s allegation spoke more than words. “Who says they’re right? A man should protect his woman at night. Even from fake foes.”

I shook my head, “Sanji, you need your sleep.”

“Stubborn moron,” Franky muttered. But despite his choice of vocabulary, it was clear that he had begun this conversation out of concern for the man.

And with that, I had made the terrifying decision to conquer my fears by myself, and not let my nightmares interfere with him ever again. I had purposefully spent most of the day away from him, trying to silently tell him that he needed his sleep, and trying to decrease my own clingyness. I spent most of the day with Luffy, playing random games to pass the time, or simply keeping him company.

Around lunch time was the first time I ran into Sanji again. The meal was served later than usual, and I couldn’t help but wonder if it was due to his sleep deprivation. While everyone was chowing down on their food at the table, I slipped towards the counter, where Sanji was fashioning a number of fancy drinks. I leaned my back against the counter, watching as his fingers expertly added perfect amounts of syrup and juice to each glass.

“I was wondering when you’d show up,” he said. His voice was gruffer than usual, a tone he very rarely used with me. But the brief flick of his eyes towards me spoke a different story, like he had actually missed my company over just a few hours.. The dark circles under his eyes hadn’t lessened in the slightest. I had to physical resist the urge to grab hold of him and show him to bed.

“Did you not get any rest?” I asked, somewhat concerned.

“Mellorine, I already told you, I’m fine,” he replied firmly.

My brow furrowed, watching as mixed each glass, “Um, sure. I don’t want to be blunt but… You look awful.”

A testy tone entered his voice, “And there’s things that need to be done, lunch doesn’t cook itself.”

I huffed, “It did not take you four hours to make lunch.”

He scoffed, “Maybe it does when I’m busy at night dealing with more important matters.”

“Sanji, I know you want to help me with my nightmares, but if it’s impacting you this badly-”

His jaw flexed “I’ve helped you through every night, and now you’re acting like you barely appreciate it!”

I blinked at his outburst, “I really do appreciate it, but this isn’t about me. You’ve had your turn to help me, and now you deserve a break.”

“Like you can take a break on relationship things.”

I sighed, “I really appreciate the chivalry, I really do. But at this point, you have to draw the line.”

He set both hands on the counter and flashed me a glare, but one that spoke of exhaustion more than actual anger, “Is there anything else you’d like me to put a break on then, Mademoiselle,” he threw out heatedly.

I shook my head, knowing it was pointless to have this conversation when he was this exhausted. I reached for his closest hand, lifting his fingers off the counter before entwining mine between his. Both of our gazes were enraptured by the simple physical contact. I gave his hand a squeeze, somewhat stupidly hoping if he took a second to process the conversation then he would see that he needed sleep.

Eventually, his eyes flicked back towards mine, but there was little emotion behind them. He pulled his hand out of my hold, somewhat rougher than usual. “I need my hands for cooking,” he said distantly.

I clenched my teeth. “Guess you need them for your stupid pride, too,” I threw back. I shouldered my way past him, ignoring the glances the rest of the strawhats threw at me while I exited the kitchen. The only comment I actually made out was a confused “Yo ho ho…?” from Brook.

I didn’t see Sanji the rest of the day. It wasn’t a petty effort to get back at him for the argument, but more of a way to shout to him that he needed sleep. But even with that, I went to bed that night silently hoping the argument would work itself out tomorrow.

=+=

Hours later, after another horrendous nightmare and very well into the depths of night, I found myself walking along the deck of the Sunny. By force of habit I was walking towards the kitchen, but I knew that wasn't a wise choice. If Sanji was there, I couldn’t make him suffer another sleepless night, and if he wasn’t, I didn’t want to fall asleep there, only for him to find me and feel regretting not being there for me.

Instead, I made my way to the upper deck on the back of the boat. I leaned against the rail, curling my fingers tightly around the wood to relieve my anxiety. No matter how many times I had these nightmares, my mental response was always the same, and I simply couldn’t escape the terror of it. I let out a deep sigh, trying to calm myself with the gentle noises of the sea, and the wafts of saltiness from the waves. But even with that, I couldn’t shake the feeling that a horrible, mutilated creature from my nightmares was watching me.

I let my chin fall to my chest. My heart burned with desire for Sanji’s comfort; to feel his arms wrap around me, and his soft whispers. My jaw began to tremble as I fully comprehended that I would be facing my horrible, awful, fears all alone tonight. I bit my lip, trying to wrack my brain for anything to latch onto, words that Sanji used to comfort me. A joke Usopp had made to cheer me up. An adorable act Chopper had done while he healed me. Or… I remembered the words Brook had once said when he tried to conquer his own fears. “I hum when I’m frightened, and I like to think it helps.”

I lifted my head, letting the light of the moon shine brightly upon myself, as it peeked out from behind the clouds. I bit my lip, and performed a quick scan of the area, ensuring no one was in hearing range. I took a breath, and let out a singular high-pitched note of the first song that came to my mind- and old sea shanty. A second note followed just as smoothly, and soon the entire song was tumbling out of my lips. The sound of my voice complimenting the night sky beautifully as I sang to the stars. My anxious frown soon lessened as I imagined the whole world to be my audience.

Within minutes, the song came to a close, and I contently leaned against the rail, searching for another song I knew just as well. As my eyes darted across the ocean waters, I realized not a single thought of my night terrors occupied my mind. I let out a small smile, but that thought brought me back full circle to my original thoughts of monsters and zombies. Dark figures that were stalking me- Crawling up to this deck on the outside of the boat- Creeping eerily up the stairs-

I whipped around, terror overtaking me. Before I even had time to process my view, I dropped to the deck, my knees unable to handle the fear of the thing before me. Directly in front of me was a terrifying creature. One that reached unimaginable heights.

“Yo ho ho! What a wonderful voice you have!”

That voice… I blinked, shaking my head to clear my vision. Standing opposite of me, leaning against the other rail, was the one and only skeleton, Brook. I should’ve known it was him. He often roamed the ship at weird times of the night because he rarely ever needed sleep.

“Do you need help?” he asked innocently, scaling the short distance towards me.

Guilt immediately wracked through me for thinking he was a monster. I shook my head in response, my hand reached for my own rail. I heaved myself up, trying to conceal the trembling that shook me from my head to my toes. “I.. I didn’t think anyone else would be awake.”

He stood next to me, and leaned over the railing, just as I had done moments ago. “Oh my, did I scare you?” he asked, with some concern.

I gave a weak smile and copied his position, “Only a bit.”

“I tend to have that effect on people, don’t I? Yo ho ho!”

I stayed silent, the adrenaline rushing through me keeping me from giving me an empathetic response. I wouldn’t be falling asleep anytime soon, that much was certain. “What are you doing out here?” I eventually asked.

“You do have a wonderful voice,” he repeated, giving me a toothy smile.

“Oh, um, thanks,” I said shyly, realizing he had probably heard most of my song.

“Do you sing often?” he asked curiously, seemingly undeterred by my quiet demeanor at the moment.

I shook my head, staring out at the water. Sometimes I forget this man had only been on our crew for a couple of weeks. “No not at all. Sometimes when we have a celebration and the crew makes me sing, but that’s about it.”

“Ahh, you should sing more!” he replied encouragingly.

I shrugged, slightly embarrassed, “I don’t know. It’s not a huge hobby of mine.”

“Well, what got you started singing tonight?”

I dropped my head, letting out a small disbelieving laugh, “Well, this is a little dumb. But it was actually something you said when I first met you.”

I couldn’t watch his expression, but slight silence left me even more embarrassed, “If you weren’t with Sanji I would assume you were in love with me,” he finally replied with awe. His strange, romantic tendencies getting the better of him.

My eyes widened and I jerked my head to look up at him. I gave an awkward laugh, “Oh um, it was actually about facing your fears.”

“Oh?” he questioned.

“Well, you said that you hummed to yourself when you were frightened, and I’ve been dealing with a lot of nightmares lately so… I decided to put my own spin on that idea.”

He let out a low hum, as if testing his own idea, “And did it work?”

“I mean, I’d like to think it did.”

“Would you like to sing again?” he asked simply.

This question caught me off guard, “Uh, I… Why?”

“To help you! I can play my violin if you’d like.” He pushed himself off the rail, and made his way across the deck, where his violin case rested. I hadn’t noticed it there before.

“Well… Only if you play really loudly, then maybe,” I replied.

He took out his violin and played a few practice notes. “Is that loud enough?” he asked warmly.

I nodded hesitantly, a new bubble of anxiety rising in my throat at having to sing in front of someone, “I guess?”

He repeated the notes again, but with more sharpness, increasing their volume.

I gulped, “Yea that works.”

“Why don’t we do the song you just sang?”

I gently hummed, warming my voice again. I let out a breath to calm myself, “Yeah… Let’s do it then.”

“Yo ho ho!” he let out excitedly.

And with that, his violin lit up the night with his expertly played notes. On cue, I joined with my voice, creating a melodic duo that snaked through the length of the boat, and beyond into the sea. We played on and on, our talents colliding in perfect synchronization with each other. When the song came to an eventual close, after many minutes, not a single terrifying thought occupied my mind. A grin stretched across my face as I felt the effects of the song channel through me, elating my mood beyond what it had been all day. Brook beamed at me as he set his violin down.

“That was really good!” I exclaimed.

“Yo ho ho! You’re even better with an accompaniment!” He hopped around the deck, practically dancing with glee.

I let out a small laugh, “You’re not so bad yourself.”

“Another?” he asked excitedly, jumping over to me. He suddenly link one arm around mine and spun me around once, before releasing me.

The action surprised me a bit but I remained my composure. I gave a small stretch as I tried to hold back a yawn, “Surprisingly… I actually want to, but I feel like it’s getting kind of late,” I admitted.

He gave a nod, “Ah, I understand.”

I smiled, “Another time though, definitely.”

He matched my expression, “Thank you for tonight then.”

With that, we had a bit of small talk before I made my way to the sleeping quarters. On my way there I briefly overheard Brook talking to himself. “I haven’t done that in… Many decades,” he said almost sorrowfully.

I frowned, but any thoughts relating to that were quickly overrun at the sight of something else- the kitchen door cracked just enough to reveal a sliver of light from it. A light wave of dread washed over me, had the blonde man stayed awake in the kitchen for me?

I reached the door, hesitating outside the room for a moment. I wanted to check if he was sleeping, but if he wasn’t… I didn’t want to keep him awake more than he needed to be. He needed to sleep. Despite the overwhelming thought that I shouldn’t enter, I did so anyway, and was quite relieved to see the sight before me. Sanji hunched over the table, resting his head on his crossed arms. I gave a small smile. A long-cold cigarette fell from between his fingers, signaling that he had been out for quite some time. While I knew it couldn’t have been the most comfortable, I was relieved he finally was receiving the sleep he deserved.

I glanced around the room as I made my way towards him, trying to eye his suit jacket that so often accompanied him. But a quick scan proved it wasn’t anywhere in the room. Without a second thought, I removed my own jacket and spread it over his shoulders, like a blanket. It may have been two sizes too small for him, but I became satisfied knowing he had some sort of layer over him. He shifted slightly in his sleep, but I continued to tuck it around him. Eventually, my work was done, and he came to a still. I took a step back and admired the sleeping blonde. His features finally earned the peaceful look they deserved after so many sleepless nights. I reached down, and gave him a small peck on his warm cheek, while also removing the cigarette from his hands.

I moved to make my way out of the room, but upon reaching the door I hesitated once again. I looked back at the man, hoping he wouldn’t beat himself up too much in the morning, when he would see the jacket and realize I had been there, but hadn’t woken him. I shook my head. If that happened, then so be it. I shoved through the door, letting it close silently behind me.

=+=

The following afternoon greeted me, as I quickly made myself ready for the day. A quick once over of the sleeping areas, told me I had slept far past the morning. And I certainly needed it too, because for the first time in over a week I had gotten the sleep I so desperately needed.

I made my way up to the deck as soon as I had freshened up, and was taken aback by the sight I saw before me. We were docked at a port town, and no one was on deck. In fact, they had probably all gone into town. I blinked, wondering why no one had even thought to leave me a note to inform me. And also a little hurt by the fact that I was now expected to watch over the ship alone.

But just as all these thoughts were hitting me at once, no one other than Prince Charming came walking down the steps of the upper deck. He focused on the cigarette in his mouth, trying to light the thing in the slightly breezy weather. When he reached the deck, he successfully lit it, and shook out his lighter, setting it into his pocket. He finally gave his attention to his surroundings, and immediately our eyes connected, spanning the length of the deck.

Tossed over one forearm was something similar to my jacket. At the sight of me, he reached for it with his free hand, gripping it tightly. He meandered towards me, a million thoughts scrawled onto his face, while I quickly paced the distance towards him.

Half way towards him, I called out, “Were you finally able to sleep?”

We met at the midway point of the deck, with him leaning over the rail. He set my jacket next to him. “I was,” he replied, almost begrudgingly, with a puff of his cigarette. His rosy cheeks and bright eyes confirmed his statement.

I settled to the left of him, keeping my jacket slightly in between us. I nodded, happy that we were both well-rested. Despite that, his closed-off body language spoke more than words, and it was clear that something was bothering him. Considering the course of the past 24 hours, I had a few different guesses.

“I didn’t see you last night,” he remarked. He moved his hand to grip my jacket again, as if that part of me was the only thing reassuring him right now. But it also served as a clear signal to tell me that he knew I had visited him in his sleep.

Out of habit, I reached his hand, but remembering the events that happened yesterday, I shifted my aim, and settled my fingers on his sleeve cuff instead. I gently played with it, running the material back and forth between my fingers. The weight of my single finger burned against the skin of his wrist.

“I thought you knew I didn’t want to bother you,” I finally said, wondering if he still held anything against me from our argument.

He out a puff of his cigarette, “So you bothered Brook instead?” he asked. His voice was low, but not the angry sort. The low that suggested he was trying to mask over whatever pain that idea brought him.

My fingers froze, coming to a still at the left edge of his sleeve. “How…?” I trailed off, not quite sure how to ask what I wanted to. Hadn’t he been asleep for that, after all?

He tilted his head to meet my eyes, “You have a beautiful voice, Mon Cheri,” he spoke quietly.

I opened my mouth to speak, a thousand questions rushing through me, but he beat me to it. He turned his entire body towards me, “It was the things I said yesterday, wasn’t it? That pushed you away...” His brow was creased, like he hated the idea of me confirming his words.

I took a breath, not too surprised he came to that conclusion. “No… Sanji I honestly don’t even care about the things you said. I didn’t bother anyone last night. He just showed up.”

He shook his head, dismissing my explanation, “I shouldn’t have said what I said,” he paused, “I’m sorry, my love. My hands are for far more than cooking.” As if to prove his point, he reached to grab my hands in his. “They’re for loving you. They’re for caring for you. For protecting you.” He reached up to caress my hair, “For stroking your hair, and holding you. Even when you have nightmares,” he added.

I stood there, completely starstruck by his words, a smile slowly spread across my face with the more he spoke, growing larger with each word. “I um…” Not having the words to convey my feelings, I reached my arms around his neck, pulling him towards me. My eyes briefly flicked to his lips, before I leaned into him. Just as our lips skimmed each other my mouth parted. I whispered against him “I love you too.” My lips brushing against his as I spoke.

His shudders, yearning for my lips. “Don’t do that,” he warned quietly, his warm breath scattering across my face. He arms reached around my hips, squeezing me against him to show his affection. A smile briefly flickered across me, before he shoved his lips onto mine, devouring me in every way he craved. Both of us were enraptured in each other’s burning romance, after having no contact for the past day.

Eventually, we pulled away, his hands instantly reaching for my cheeks to keep me from retreating too far. He gazed into my eyes, “I adore you, Mon Cheri.”

My cheeks heated at his intensity, something that hadn’t happened in a while. I placed my hands over his, rubbing my thumb across his knuckles. With my other hand, I tilted his hand, pressing a kiss to his palm. “Are your hands for kissing too?” I asked fervently.

“For anything you could ever need,” he replied.

I showed a sly smile, “What a tempting offer.”

He raised his eyebrows, an intrigued smile on his face as if waiting for me to continue that thought.

But I did nothing of the sort, and instead turned the conversation to another matter. I let his hands fall to his sides, and leaned my back against the rail. “So… Do you always get jealous of talking skeletons?” I asked coyly.

The smile on his face faltered slightly, and I had to bite my tongue from laughing at his semi-defeated expression. He parted his lips slightly, taking a moment to form his response. He smoothly replied with, “I’d like to think a man would never question his lady’s loyalty.”

I pursed my lips in amusement, “Oh? Well, liking to and actually doing it are two different things.”

He leaned his arms against the rail, facing the sea as he turned to look at me. He swiftly lit another cigarette, trying to hide his own smile behind it now that he picked up on my humorous intent behind my words. “It’s the thought that counts.”

I playfully elbowed him in the ribs, “Not sure that thought was there in the first place.”

He let out a puff of smoke, taking my physical jab without a problem, “Can you blame me?”

“He’s a skeleton.”

He eyed me up and down, “You have one too. And a hot one at that,” he smirked.

I rolled my eyes, “Whatever.”

He let out a laugh, letting our playful banter continue through much of the rest of the afternoon.

[kays-catch-of-the-day]

Good morning yall! Hope you're ready for a new fish today cuz we got an all timer here today!

Today's fish is none other than my personal favorite fish, the Brook Trout (salvelinus fontinalis)! These beauties are native to Eastern North America, in both Canada and the United States, ranging from Lake Superior, to the coastal waterways from the Hudson Bay to Long Island, though they have spread far beyond their native ranges, mostly via aquacultural practices and artificial propagation, making them invasive species in many regions of North America and the world at large!

Two ecological forms of Brook Trout have been recognized by the US Forest Service, the longer-living potamodromous (fish whose migration occurs fully within fresh water) population, known as coasters , and the anadromous (fish whose migration occurs from fresh water to salt water) population, known as salters. Adult coasters typically reach lengths over 2 feet in length and weigh up to 15lbs, compared to adult salters, which average between 6 to 15 inches and about 5lbs. They're characterized by their vibrant coloration, with olive green bodies and spectacular yellow and blue rimmed red spots, white and black trimming along their orange fins, and dense, irregular lines along the top of their bodies. Often, the bellies of male Brook Trout becomes bright red or orange when spawning.

During the spawning season, female Brook Trout will construct a depression in the stream bed, referred to as a "redd", where groundwater percolates upward through the gravel. Male Brook Trout will approach the female, fertilizing the eggs. The eggs are only slightly denser than water, and can easily be swept away by the current. To avoid this, the female will bury the eggs in a small gravel mound, from which they hatch 4 to 6 weeks later. During this incubation period, the eggs receive oxygen from the streamwater that passes through the gravel beds and into their gelatinous shells. Once they hatch into small fry fish that retain their yolk sack for nutrients, which compensates for the lack of nutrients provided by the parents during the early stages of development. Following the consumption of the yolk, the fry Brook Trout will shelter from predatory species in rocky crevices and inlets, growing from fry to fingerlings, until reaching full maturation at the ripe old age of 6 months.

Despite their native range spanning across low-elevation lakes and watersheds, Brook Trout are increasingly confined to higher elevations in the Appalachian Mountains, especially in southern regions of Appalachia. Over seas, however, Brook Trout have thrived in introduced populations in much of Europe, Argentina, and New Zealand since as early as the 1850's! Their typical habitats include large and small lakes, rivers, creeks, and spring ponds in cold temperate climates. They thrive in clear spring water with moderate flow rates and healthy vegetation populations and other resources which provide natural hiding places. Although they are more resilient and adaptable to varying environmental changes, such as pH levels and temperatures, Brook Trout struggle in temperatures warmer than 72 degrees Fahrenheit. Their diets include aquatic insects at all stages of life, adult terrestrial insects such as grasshoppers and crickets, crustaceans and frogs, molluscs, invertebrates, smaller fish, and even small aquatic mammals such as voles, and even other young Brook Trout! This highly indiscriminate diet and environmental resiliency allows for their success across the globe.

Given all of this, Brook Trout are classified as a Secure by NatureServe's conservation metrics, but that label may be misleading; these incredible fish face severe and repeated extirpation (localized extinction) in many of their native habitats due to habitat destruction, pollution, damming, and invasive species. Meanwhile, Brook Trout present the danger of extirpation to other fish in their nonnative habitats, indicating that efforts must be taken to curb these populations. In short, there are more than enough Brook Trout, but they simply are not where they are meant to be.

A true fish out of (the specifically correct body of) water, the Brook Trout scores within the top percentile of all fishies on our highly advanced fish ranking scale.

[ap0llosarchive]

can u do a pillar men + santana (hes allways forgotten) with male reader idk if u do nsfw but if u could do both sfw and nsfw it would be awesome

Hello dear anon! Thanks so much for the first request, I can absolutely do a bit of both for you! And I agree!!! I love santana my profile is themed after him, I did one shots as there wasn't a specific request <3

A/n : not proof read , my bad! This took me a minute to type up, but I actually really enjoyed writing it!

PILLARMEN X MALE! READER

KARS

Kars takes interest in you, he will observe you and study your mannerisms, he is prone to wanting to grow even more knowledgeable as the perfect being, it's something he's always doing, learning, so when his studying becomes more out of desperate.. in a way of wanting to know you. It becomes agonisingly evident that he wants something more.

He'd conventionally learn what your favourite flowers were, and would start leaving them for you, soon, when or if you trained side by side with him, or simply observed, he'd flaunt off his brilliant bone blades, show his hair in an attempt to get your attention, and it works.

When you finally confess your love for him, he observes it as if you were always meant to be his, you are perfect in his eyes after all. He loves perfection.

If things were to get more intimate, Kars is definitely dominant, he brooks little argument, he doesn't like poses where his back is turned. It sets his blades off sometimes. But he definitely tops, that man has full control over every fibre of his body, Kars usually doesn't indulge in such scenarios, but when he finds himself craving you, be prepared.

He will want you extremely vocal, whether it's screaming, moaning or whimpering, he will definitely go harder if you find yourself holding back, that man doesn't care who hears, you are his and that is all that matters.

Washes your body and plants kisses all over your body during aftercare. He let's you brush his hair as a sign that he trusts you, he'll hold your hand and guide it to trace his skin as another sign of trust, It isn't easy to win Lord Kars' favour after all.

"You are possibly the only human that I will understand. The gods have blessed me with your presence to fulfil my perfection. You are the most endearing thing I have endured in this century,"

ESIDISI

Esidisi is dramatic and emotional when he wants to be, but most of the time he is very serious and calm, so to see a side of him that is almost balanced seems unimaginable, its like his own way of flirting in a way

He'd invite you to converse with him and would show off his ability to form flames and heat, he will teasingly hold you when it's cold, knowing you won't pull away due to how warm this man's embrace is. He's smug and you both know that.

If you ever talk bad about people who have done you wrong, you will get gifted a blood vial with their blood. He will not tolerate you being hurt. He loves you in a way he didn't think was possible.

When you make it official with him he's so overjoyed this man scoops you bridal style and kisses you, he's desperate as soon as you let him know you feel the same. This man is a DRAMA king. Tears of joy will be shed before he composes himself.

In the bedroom, he usually takes the reign, but if you manage to filp the tables then he'll allow it. He trusts you after all, this man is LOUD as hell, he's grunting and groaning as he moans out compliments, he's in bliss as you thrust into him, He's a sucker for doggy style.

During aftercare you two lounge in a makeshift hot spring he made, it relaxs both of you even more, he keeps an arm draped over your shoulder as he holds you.

"You're utterly handsome, you crank the heat in my heart higher than even I can handle, I love everything about you, I'll always be here."

WAMUU

He is nervous to pursue his feelings at first, he is an excellent and respectable warrior, he would hate to go behind lord kars and esidisi's back, but his care is evident, he helps you stretch before training, admires your strength for a human man, he likes you, alot, so he will consume every detail about you, especially if they are warrior quality.

When he gets the green light from Kars to court you, this man is a gentleman, he will accompany you everywhere and comment on you to get your attention, an attempt of flattering, his calm attitude is like a gush of wind, its refreshing.

When he's internally panicking when you are lounging, unsure if you even feel the same, but when you kiss him, this man melts into your touch. He holds your hips gently.

He's definitely a switch, but like kars, he doesn't like poses where his back is turned. He is on too high of alert to allow it, but if you're topping, and he's gripping the bed and he's so laid back and in bliss, he'll not even notice he's on his stomach.

Is not as vocal, he prefers it gentle and quiet, it's more meaningful for him, its genuine lovemaking for him, it's something that is vulnerable and he enjoys when it is taken at a slow rhythm

Aftercare is also quiet but filled with attentiveness, he will hold you until you both sleep, the soft rise and fall of his chest calms and soothes you to sleep, his hands running through your short yet silky hair is comforting on both ends.

"You are the whisper of the wind that soothes my soul. You bring me the comfort of peace as a warrior."

SANTANA

It is obvious he is quiet, but he is not simply dazed off into his own world, he soaks up every small detail, he notices everything and his touch is full of care. He loves the fact your so gentle and patient with him. You don't care he is viewed as a mere guard dog. He loves you for that.

He will start sitting near you and looking out when your back is turned, like a personal bodyguard, he will tidy up your hair, and you will notice the soft glint in his eyes as he itches closer to you

He likes being alone in vast areas, he will invite you to come lounge with him, he doesn't typically love company, especially from a human, but you are different, you make him feel wanted.

When you plant a small kiss on his cheek, he embraces you and holds you, leaning his head down and his horns gently pressing against your forehead in a slient, unspoken intimate way, you've tugged and played a song on his heartstrings

He definitely isn't that experienced in the bedroom, so he switches but allows you to choose, he has alot of trust within you, he'll grunt and groan, panting needingly, he likes missionary pose, it grants equal pleasure on both ends.

In aftercare, he is even more gentle and careful than he usually is, like he's afraid you'll break with his touch, you wash his hair and massage his muscles, and it helps him untense. He sees and appreciates you.

".. I love you.. you treat me well, I will always love you back.."

[ninibeingdelulu]

I’m scared

synopsis: simon can’t sleep due to his nightmares, so he tells you about his childhood and…his fear of becoming a bad father

The fading sunrays streak vibrant tangerines and crimsons across the dusky skies gradually dimming over the secluded ranch you both retreated to - desperate for a more tranquil life far removed from Simon's harrowing past.

Despite the idyllic setting and near-constant solitude constantly surrounding your cozy homestead nowadays, he still instinctively startles awake most nights drenched in a cold sweat.

Tonight seems no different when that painfully familiar shudder wracks Simon's powerful frame beside you in the tangled bedsheets.

One moment, he's coiled tighter than a loaded spring through the entire rippling expanse of his musculature while visions of yet another fallen brother scream silently behind those tightly screwed eyelids.

The next, Simon jolts upright sucking in air like he just emerged from being submerged as the last vestiges of his latest night terror dissipates.

You stir only fractionally at the abrupt disturbance, too preoccupied with your own dreams involving a much more joyous source leaving you both deliriously giddy as of late.

Blearily cracking one eyelid open, you're greeted with the sight of Simon swiping a weary palm across his sweat-slicked brow while continuing those subconscious white-knuckle grips along his thighs.

He remains completely transfixed by some unseen assailant lurking in the shadows beyond your bedroom door for another few interminable beats.

"Hey you..." Your voice is soft yet purposefully pitched just loud enough to penetrate the lingering fog clouding Simon's senses.

Instantly those impossibly soulful blue irises you fell hopelessly in love with swivel back towards you - naked vulnerability completely undisguised in their sunken depths as his respiring gradually calms.

"Shh...c'mere, baby." You beckon with your arms outstretched - Simon swiftly answering by collapsing with practiced ease against your welcome embrace while thumbing away the sudden moisture rimming his lashes.

Neither of you exchange another syllable for what feels an eternity. Simply existing in rare respite tangled as one until his residual tremors finally cease.

"Tell me about your nightmare..." You murmur - lips brushing the sensitive shell of Simon's ear while trailing your fingertips along the corded musculature spanning his shoulders.

His timbre emerges low and throaty when he acquiesces - callused palm drifting towards where your hands remain splayed across the bunched plane of his abdomen.

"It was… it’s stupid, it was about my dad. All the shit he put me through when I was just a kid,” His voice crack slightly at the word. “It disgust me. The animals, the concerts..."

You squeeze Simon closer at those doleful parting words - mouth parting to rebuke his self-deprecation when his palm suddenly clenches against your belly into a taut fist.

Those once warm blue spheres boring through you with naked terror reflecting in their unsettling blankness.

"...but now, how can I be a father worthy of passing anything on when I'm still such an utter wreck myself?" Simon croaks desolately.

"My own childhood ended before it even began between what the 141 had me doin' out there...and that ain't exactly the example I want settin' for our--"

"Simon Riley, you are going to make the most natural, incredible father this little one or I could ever dream of - end of story."

Your tone brooks no argument as you unhesitatingly seal his fears beneath the scorching press of your mouth colliding against his.

Imprinting every ounce of staunch belief and devotion swirling behind your next declarations directly onto his plush lips.

"Because no matter how much darkness this crazy world dragged you through? You somehow emerged even brighter...and when I look at you now all I see is pure, unconditional light. Nothing else matters except the profound love you have shining in these eyes and overflowing from your beautiful soul, okay?"

Simon remains resolutely mute as you cradle his visage in your palms - thumbs gently caressing those gratefully glistening irises swimming closer with every steadying breath cycling between you both.

Until eventually another profound epiphany seems to dawn across his expression while one hand slowly descends to cup your burgeoning swell...

[aldryrththerainbowheart]

Jason Todd loves to travel to cozy forest cabin getaways with you

🍂 Especially in the middle of autumn/one the cusp of winter. A little strange, considering people usually prefer spring, summer or at least warmer months of autumn. You asked him about it once, he said it's the calmness of the forest that's preparing for winter.

Like everything's falling asleep. Calm, quiet, undisturbed by anything.

🍂 You have one place surrounded by mountains that you book year in advance and visit every year for a week. It's a long wooden hut made of layered logs with stone fireplace and terrace window overlooking nature. Nestled on the high slope right under the mountain, it offers a beautiful view of valley with river curling like a snake through the slopes and acres upon acres of ancient pine trees.

🍂 He makes sure you're stocked with everything you need. Even the things you don't need but he bought them because he knew you liked them. Your favorite coffee, dried fruits and nuts, his favorite beef jerky, soup cans, store bought dough for pizza, fresh buns and cinnamon buns, eggs for morning omelettes, pumkin spice and ingredients for simmer pot (you taught him to drink that pretty quickly).

🍂 It's that calm quiet routine he falls into wih you there that he loves the most. You wake up late, burried under the patterned blankets, to a cold autumn morning with golden-brown leaves falling behind your window. He doesn't want to let you go until you bribe him with fresh coffee. It another half an hour before you get out of bed, either talking or reading your respective books you brought with you. Then and only then, you get out of bed. Usually one makes breakfeast while other gets ready or sits at the dining table. You rarely use that table, usually taking the food either outside on the terrace, the couch or bed.

🍂 Your days are filled with hiking and walks through the wilderness. Each morning greets you with the soft light of dawn as you lace up your hiking boots, ready to explore the outdoors. The air is fresh and crisp, filled with the earthy scents of pine and wildflowers.

As you venture deeper into the wild, you find yourself surrounded by towering trees that sway gently in the breeze. You might encounter babbling brooks that meander through the landscape, their crystal-clear waters shimmering in the sunlight. With every step, you are greeted by the symphony of nature—the cheerful chirping of birds, the rustle of small creatures in the underbrush, and the distant sounds of nature that fill the air with tranquility.

Each hike offers its own unique adventure: sometimes you climb to breathtaking vistas that reveal sprawling valleys below, while other times, you wander through serene glades where wild animals may cross your path. You take the time to pause and appreciate the beauty around you, capturing moments with photographs or simply soaking in the sights and sounds.

In the evenings, as the sun sets and casts a warm glow across the horizon, you reflect on the day’s explorations, feeling a deep sense of gratitude for the connection you have with nature. Whether trekking through rugged mountain terrain or strolling along peaceful forest paths.

🍂 Unlike eating times, your walks are usually filled with peacefull silence, disturbed only by the sounds of rustling leaves, crunching of branches under your feet or animals. Speak of which, you were pretty nervous when you encountered bear or moose, but Jason assured you that as long as you don't bother them, they won't bother you. You didn't know that wolves are so much bigger that a dog until a pack of them was chilling early in the morning around your cabin.

🍂 You make sure to bring your beaten-down old camera on these trips. Because some of these breathtaking sights cannot be captured by a phone. You have tons of them with beautiful sighs of nature, that one time you decided to go up the mountain slope, and the little fox family you stumbled upon. There's also plenty of pictures of Jason, sometimes taken without his knowledge. It's a rare sight when you manage to see that expression of pure serenity on his face, let alone capture it on the camera. There's one you cherish the most. It was taken when you climbed up the hill to a clearing. The sunlight is still peeking over the mountains and is shining directly on his back. He looks to the side and light illuminates his face perfectly, tracing the lines of his face in light and shadow. Dark strands peek from underneath his beanie and his neck is buriend in the scarf you made him. A fog is rising from his lips and one green eye is cast in sunlight. In the background, a blurried out expanse of forest and mountaintops. A copy of this photo made its way to the Wayne manor.

🍂 In the evenings, you cook dinner together and then either play boardgames or, you guessed it, read some more. Jason always looks forward to cooking dinner with you. You blast music for your portable radio, you mess with each other by throwing bits of food and argue what toppings should or should not go on a pizza. You test out what board games would stand the trial on the game nights with his family and you always end with cards against humanity. Your always at disadvantage when playing Black Stories. It's not your fault you're not detective like someone.

🍂 Out of all activities, your absolute favorite undoubtedly has to be stargazing with Jason. There’s something truly magical about those nights spent together, standing under the open sky, clean of the polution of Gotham city.

In those quiet moments, as you both gaze up at the milions of twinkling lights, you feel a deep sense of peace and connection. The cool night air envelops you, and every sigh, every laugh, and every shared dream feels amplified against the backdrop of shimmering constellations. With Jason by your side, it’s not just about the beauty of the night's sky; it's about the warmth of his presence, the quiet conversations that stretch into the night, and the comfort of knowing that you’re sharing these moments with the person you love most. The stars don’t just fill the sky; they light up your hearts, creating a memories that feels timeless and everlasting.

[differentpostrebel]

Lost and Found: A Pirate's Promise

These guys stay bickering lmfaoooo

A/N: We are back at it again with a Chapter 3!!! Yall writing this was so much fun, and you guys will find out why (wink, Wink). Our beloved Sanji really needs to confess his feelings to Y/N. Now chapter 4 is currently being written and will be posted tonight! That Chapter is going to be filled with angst! Like always the stories will be linked as well. So without further ado, here's Chapter 3. 

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3 (Here),

Word Count: 5.3K 

Sanji X Reader, OP x Reader, 

Chapter 3: A Captain’s Resolve

  Luffy comes rushing down the steps, eyes wide with concern. “Y/N, are you alright?” he asks, his voice laced with worry. “Sorry guys… I might’ve complicated things by punching that Celestial Dragon.”

You smirk, trying to shake off the pain. “I’m fine, Luffy. Don’t worry about me.”

Pappag waddles over, his little eyes wide in disbelief. “I can’t believe you took a bullet for Hatchi!”

Hatchi, who is now by your side, looks down, his expression filled with guilt. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. This is all my fault.”

You wave him off, trying to ease the tension. “It’s fine, Hatchi. We’ve got bigger problems to deal with. We need to figure out how to help Camie.”

Just then, Luffy’s gaze sharpens as he notices movement in the far corner. Guards are coming from all directions, ready to attack.

“We’ve got company,” Luffy warns, his voice turning serious.

One of the guards sneers, “What kind of idiot would risk their life to save a damn fish... and a girl?” 

Luffy’s eyes narrow as he notices guards in the far corner, swarming in from all directions. Without hesitation, he springs into action. “Gum-Gum Whip!” he shouts, his leg stretching out and sweeping through the crowd of workers, sending them flying.

Zoro, with a smirk, unsheathes his swords. “Looks like I’m getting in on this too,” he says, slashing through the attackers with swift, precise movements.

You try to get up, frustration bubbling up inside you. “Damn it, if only I had my weapons…” you mutter, scanning the chaos around you.

Sanji notices your struggle and springs into action, kicking away anyone who dares come near you or Hatchi. “Don’t worry, I’ve got this covered,” he assures you, his eyes sharp and focused.

Nami, meanwhile, is sprinting down the stairs when she suddenly trips. But instead of panicking, she seizes the moment. “Thunder Tempo!” she shouts, releasing a burst of lightning that strikes the oncoming enemies, electrifying them.

“Nice shot, Nami!” you call out, impressed.

As the chaos unfolds, Saint Roswald, watching from a distance, begins to shake with anger, his eyes fixed on Charlos, who was left beaten and humiliated. Saint Shalria screams at the remaining guards, “Do something! Kill those pirates!”

As the chaos unfolds, Saint Roswald watches, his anger boiling over as he takes in the scene. “Why can’t you guys just accept your fate!” he roars, his face twisted in fury.

Luffy, still in the heat of battle, launches into another attack. “Gum-Gum Battle Axe!” he shouts, smashing through the guards with a powerful blow. He then turns, his gaze locking onto Saint Roswald. “Back down! My friends are not for sale,” Luffy declares, his voice full of resolve.

Saint Roswald recoils, taken aback by Luffy’s fierce determination. But before he can respond, Usopp, who had been above, suddenly falls from his perch and crashes directly onto Saint Roswald, knocking him out cold. “Oops… didn’t see that coming,” Usopp mutters, rubbing his head as he scrambles to his feet.

Luffy, turning around from the commotion, spots Usopp, Brook, and Robin making their way through the chaos. “Usopp, Brook, Robin! Glad you made it!” he exclaims with relief.

You look around and see the remaining members of the crew all together. Happiness fills you, knowing they’d all come through. Before you can shout out anything, a guard starts advancing toward you. “Get back here!” he growls, brandishing his weapon.

You quickly begin to slide backwards, narrowly evading each attack he throws at you. Using your good leg, you kick out and send him stumbling. “Come on, is that all you’ve got?” you taunt, trying to keep your footing and maintain distance.

Luffy, catching sight of the struggle, shouts over, “Usopp! Camie is still in the fish bowl, but we need to get rid of those collars first!”

Nami, glancing around nervously, adds, “We better hurry or the Navy might get here any second!”

At that moment, a voice with a chilling edge cuts through the noise. “It’s too late. They’re already here.”

Everyone freezes. Luffy, eyes narrowing, demands, “Who the hell are you, and what’s with the polar bear?”

Bepo, the bear, blushes slightly at the mention. You look up, your eyes widening. “No way… it’s…” you mutter in shock.

As the realization dawns, Robin finishes your thought with a calm certainty. “Trafalgar Law,” she says, her gaze steady. “Luffy, they’re pirates just like us.”

Luffy, glancing at the imposing figures around them, raises an eyebrow. “Even the bear?” he asks, pointing towards Bepo.

“Yeah,” Robin confirms. “The guy standing in the back is Eustass Captain Kidd.”

Brooke, always ready with a bit of trivia, chimes in. “You mean the one who has a higher bounty than Luffy?”

You mutter under your breath, your eyes widening in recognition. “So that’s Kidd?”

Trafalgar Law steps forward, his demeanor serious. “The Navy has had this place surrounded since before the auction even began,” he says, his gaze sweeping over the chaotic scene. “You’re not getting out of here easily.” He pauses, his expression softening just a fraction. “Not sure who they’re trying to capture, but I gotta say, I’m quite impressed. You put on a good show, Straw Hats.” The crew looks at each other with a look of worry. 

Law's eyes then lock onto you, and his gaze feels almost palpable, sending a shiver down your spine. “Especially you, Y/N,” he says with a strange, unsettling intensity.

Before you can react, Law’s fingers move with precision. “Room,” he announces, and a blue orb envelops you.

Sanji’s voice cuts through the chaos. “What the hell?”

The orb expands and contracts, and with a quick “Shambles,” you find yourself teleported. You look around, disoriented, and see that Sanji is no longer next to you. Instead, Law stands before you, his gaze unyielding.

Sanji’s frustrated shout echoes in the distance. “You bastard! What did you do?”

Law ignores Sanji’s outburst, his focus entirely on you. You stand firm, meeting his gaze with a determined look. “What do you want from me?” you demand, trying to keep your voice steady. 

As Law moves closer, he suddenly reaches out and places his hand lightly on your shoulder. The touch is unexpectedly gentle but electrifying, sending a rush of warmth through you. The proximity of his body and the intensity of his gaze make your heart race uncontrollably. It’s a calculated gesture, not just physical but also psychological, designed to unnerve you.

His fingers brush against your skin, and with a flick of his wrist, you feel a strange, tingling sensation that seems to emanate from the point of contact. This move is part of his Devil Fruit powers, creating a brief but intense link between you. The touch leaves you momentarily paralyzed, caught between confusion and a deep, unsettling awareness of his presence. His lips curl into a faint, enigmatic smile, adding to the effect.

Law continues to hold your gaze, you find yourself struggling to maintain composure, the blush on your cheeks betraying your internal turmoil. The combination of his touch, the intensity of his eyes, and his close proximity creates a powerful, disconcerting moment that leaves you shaken. 

Brooke and Sanji, catching sight of what’s happening, prepare to intervene, their expressions tense and ready for action. But before they can act, you notice a figure approaching rapidly from the corner of your eye.

Without warning, you’re shoved into something hard, the impact leaving you dazed and momentarily stunned. You look up to see a shadowy figure standing over you, their features obscured. The suddenness of the collision leaves you reeling, struggling to regain your bearings as you try to assess the situation and find a way out. You begin to shake your head and, as you’re about to move away, hands grasp you firmly in place.

“You’re not going anywhere, doll,” the voice is laced with a menacing energy. Slowly, you turn around to see Eustass Captain Kidd, his eyes glinting with a predatory gaze.

Usopp, from across the chaos, yells out desperately, “Y/N! Snap out of it!”

You shake your head vigorously, trying to dispel the disorienting effects of Law’s earlier move. The power still lingers, making it hard to think clearly. "That’s some power," you mutter to yourself, trying to steady your nerves.

Kidd’s smirk widens as he holds you in place. “Struggling, are we? Not so easy to escape from me, doll.” He lowers his head, his breath warm against your ear as he whispers, his tone laced with menace and seduction. As his tongue traces a teasing path along your earlobe, you moan involuntarily, a shiver running down your spine. Kidd smirks triumphantly as he continues to hold you firmly. 

You grit your teeth, struggling to free yourself from his grip. As you do, you notice Shalria, holding a gun trained on Camie. “Oh no, Camie!” you shout, panic rising in your voice. Everyone turns to assess the dire situation. 

Nami’s voice cuts through the chaos. “We’ll never make it in time!”

Just as Shalria cocks her gun, she is immediately stunned along with the other guards, their bodies collapsing to the ground. “It’s the same power as before,” you recognize, feeling a surge of hope.

Seizing the opportunity, you kick Eustass hard, breaking free from his grasp. As you make your way down the stairs, your heart pounds in your chest. A loud explosion echoes nearby, causing you to stumble. You open your eyes to see the same man who had helped you with the explosive collars and the giant walking out of the smoke.

The old man looks at you with a knowing smile. “My, what do we have here?” he says, his voice carrying a sense of calm authority.

Luffy, breathless but relieved, steps forward. “Who are you?”

The old man bows slightly. “I’m Rayleigh, and I’ve been eagerly waiting to meet you, Monkey D. Luffy.”

You step forward, your eyes locked on Rayleigh. His warm smile reassures you. “Good to see you reunited with your crew,” Rayleigh says, turning to you. “Now, let’s get your mermaid friend free.”

He turns to Camie, who looks nervous. “Trust me and don’t flinch. I’m going to remove your collar.”

Pappag and Hatchi shout in unison, “No, don’t! It’ll explode!”

Tension grips the crew as they look on in worry, but both you and Luffy trust Rayleigh’s expertise. With one swift movement, Rayleigh removes Camie’s collar. The expected explosion happens, but it’s controlled and nothing more than a flash.

Franky emerges from the chaos, waving a set of keys. “Hey! I got the keys! What the hell happened here?”

He tosses your weapons toward you with a smirk. “And Y/N, I found your blades too.”

You catch them and feel a wave of relief. “Thanks, Franky!” you exclaim, examining your weapons. Your joy turns to disappointment as you notice one sword is damaged beyond repair.

“These bastards must have been toying with them,” you mutter, assessing the damage. “No worries. Once we get to Fishman Island, I’ll get a new one made.” For now, you have one good sword and two small blades.

Rayleigh’s presence has left Law and Kidd stunned. Law, his eyes widening slightly, says, “Rayleigh? I didn’t expect to see you here.”

Kidd, equally shocked, mutters, “That old man... he’s the Dark King?”

Rayleigh chuckles softly. “Indeed. Now, let's focus on getting everyone out of here.” 

Franky, with a decisive gesture, throws the keys toward the remaining slaves. “If you want to escape, now’s your chance!” he calls out, his voice booming with authority. The keys scatter,the free slaves begin to unlock their collars and start rushing toward the exit, desperate to escape their tormentors.

Franky then grabs Camie and Pappag, making sure they’re safely with him. Rayleigh, ever composed, reaches for Hatchi, pulling him away from the chaos.

Suddenly, a loud voice booms through the auction house’s remains. “This is the Navy! We have this place surrounded, pirates! Step out and surrender!”

Luffy, brimming with determination, starts moving toward the exit, ready to face whatever the Navy has in store. However, Kidd and Law step up beside him, their faces set with equal resolve.

Kidd, with a confident smirk, steps forward. “I’ve got this,” he says firmly. “Law, Luffy, you two stay back. Let me handle the Navy.” 

Law raises an eyebrow, his tone clipped. “Just stay out of my way.”

Luffy scowls. “You’re the last people I need to deal with right now.”

Nami, watching the bickering, shakes her head in disbelief. “Are all captains this childish, or is it just ours?”

You chuckle, your gaze shifting to Zoro, who’s smirking and readying his swords. “Looks like we’ve got ourselves a challenge,” you say, your excitement palpable.

Zoro’s grin widens. “You bet.”

Sanji grabs your wrist firmly, his usual flirtatious demeanor replaced by a deep concern. “Y/N, you’re still injured. I can’t.. lose you… 

Sanji POV.. 

Grabbing Y/N wrist, I try to get her to understand my point of view. She just got out of an injury she is in no condition to fight. “Y/N, you’re still injured,” I said, my voice strained and trembling. “I can’t… lose you…

I look up and watch as her determined gaze meets mine, a fierce resolve in her eyes. “Sanji, I’ll be fine. I promise. I’ve got this.” 

But that still wasn't enough, I'm scared something else might happen,“You don’t understand. You’re important to us… To me… If something happens to you... I don’t know what I’d do.” my hands tremble as I cling on to her, trying to steady myself. 

Y/N’s touch on my cheek is warm, comforting, and for a moment, it eases the panic I felt inside. “Sanji, I promise I’ll be careful. Just trust me, okay? I need you to stay strong for the crew.”

Taking a shuddered breath, struggling to keep my emotions in check,I mentally say “Now’s your chance, tell her how you feel”. But instead I said “Alright, but if you get in trouble, I’m coming for you. I swear it." My voice is firm but laced with vulnerability.

You offered me a reassuring smile, and your fingers gently squeezed my hand. “I’ll be safe. And when this is all over, I’ll be right here with you.”

I nodded, my face etched with anxiety “Be careful, Y/N. Please.”

As you prepare to leave, Chopper approaches with a small vial in hand. “Hey, I’ve got something to help with the pain. It should last about 45 minutes.”

You take the vial with a grateful nod. “Thanks, Chopper. I’m going to need this.”

Y/N POV… 

You take the vial with a grateful nod. “Thanks, Chopper. I’m going to need this.”

Opening the cap, you drink the liquid, and begin to feel a bit better. You move your injured leg to see if you can add weight to it. 

Smirking you say “Ok, now i'm ready” 

As you prepare to head out, Bepo, looking a bit nervous but determined, steps up. “I admire you, Y/N. I hope you can stay safe.”

You smile at the cute bear, touched by his words. “Thanks, Bepo. I’ll do my best.”

Bepo looks up at you with a mix of shyness and determination. “Y/N, can I... can I have your number? Just in case something happens, you know?”

Penguin and Shachi exchange glances and shake their heads. “Bepo, what are you doing? What about Captain Law?”

Bepo lowers his head, clearly embarrassed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make things awkward. I just... I really admire you.”

You smile warmly at Bepo, finding his nervousness endearing. “It’s okay, Bepo. I appreciate it. Here, you can have my number.”

Bepo’s face lights up with relief and gratitude. “Thank you, Y/N! I promise I’ll keep it safe.”

Giggling, you turn to Bepo with a playful smile. “I’ll see you out there, Bepo.”

You then glance at Penguin and Shachi, giving them a mischievous wink. “And as for your captain,” you say, looking them up and down with a grin, “I’ve got something special planned for him.” You give a final wink before turning on your heel, heading out with Zoro by your side.

Zoro smirks at you, his sword ready. “Looks like we’ve got some fun ahead.”

You grin back, feeling the adrenaline rush. “You bet. Let’s show them what we’ve got.”

Outside the Auction house….

As you and Zoro head out, the battlefield’s chaos unfolds before you. The clash of steel and the shouts of combat fill the air. Just as you’re about to engage, you notice someone standing nearby. Without turning to face him, you smirk and call out, “Nice of you to stop by, Killer.”

Killer, his mask revealing only his intense eyes, looks at you. “Didn’t think I’d miss this,” he replies, his voice muffled but serious. His grip tightens on his weapon, ready for action.

The first cannon shot is fired, but Luffy quickly reacts with his Gum-Gum Balloon, deflecting the blast and sending it crashing into a group of navy soldiers. “Gum-Gum Balloon!” Luffy yells, grinning as he lands among the enemies, his infectious enthusiasm lighting up the scene.

You watch in awe as Kidd’s powers come into play, metal bending and twisting around him. The sheer force of his abilities is captivating. You can’t help but feel curiosity. "What’s it like to wield such raw power?" you wonder silently, watching him with a mix of admiration and intrigue.

Law’s powers are equally impressive. You’ve seen him use his “Room” ability before, but witnessing the precision and control up close is something else entirely. The way he manipulates space with a flick of his fingers is mesmerizing. You can only imagine the extent of his abilities.

Zoro and you both shout, “Luffy!” in unison. Luffy turns, his face lighting up with his trademark grin. “Hey guys!” he responds, clearly thrilled to see you both in action.

As the battle rages on, Kidd’s voice cuts through the chaos, calling out, “Nice moves, doll!” The term stings, and you see Law’s expression darken. He turns to Eustass with a snarl, “Don’t you dare call her that. She’s not some object to be tossed around!”

Luffy, charging in with a determined look, adds, “Yeah, she’s not just a doll. She’s my crewmate!”

Killer, on the other hand tries to advance, his eyes locked on you with an intent that suggests he’s about to flirt, even amidst the fight. Before he can make his move, you spot a cannonball hurtling towards him. Without hesitation, you leap into action.

With a swift, acrobatic maneuver, you land on top of Killer, your legs securely around his waist. The cannonball explodes harmlessly in the distance, sending debris flying. You find yourself in a striking position, your eyes meeting Killer's with a playful smirk.

Killer’s eyes widen in surprise as you land securely, your position giving you the upper hand. You sense a faint blush behind his mask. Your gaze briefly meets Kidd’s and Law’s, then you lower it back to Killer. 

Leaning in close, your lips brush just above Killer’s ear as you whisper, your voice low and sultry, “It’s a shame there’s such an audience, don’t you think? I rather enjoy having you beneath me like this.” You press your body closer, your breath hot against his skin as you continue, “Tell me, Killer… wouldn’t you agree that this position suits us perfectly?”

Your words drip with dominance, each syllable meant to tease and unnerve. You feel the slight shiver that runs through him, the tension in his muscles betraying the effect you’re having. The power dynamic is unmistakable—you’re in control, and you both know it.

Killer’s breath hitches,the playful glint in your eyes doesn’t go unnoticed as you hold his gaze, letting the weight of your words linger.

You lean in even closer, your lips just grazing the edge of his mask as you purr, “Too bad we’re not alone… I could show you just how much I enjoy this.”

Your teasing smile widens as you feel him tense beneath you, your words clearly hitting their mark. From the corner of your eye, you catch Zoro’s knowing smirk, fully aware that you’re playing a dangerous, thrilling game, and you’re winning.

Sanji, who’s been watching the entire exchange, can’t hide his irritation. He’s seen this trick before—you’ve pulled it on him more than once. His eyes narrow, burning holes into Killer as he watches him pinned to the ground beneath you. With a frustrated sigh, Sanji pulls out a cigarette, lighting it with a flick of his lighter. “Does she really have to do all that?” he mutters under his breath, unable to tear his gaze away.

Robin, catching his reaction, smirks and leans in slightly. “Is someone jealous?” she teases, her voice soft but laced with amusement.

Sanji grumbles, taking a drag from his cigarette. “Yeah, yeah… Let’s just get out of here so we can make our quick escape.”

As you glance up, you see your crew making a swift exit toward Grove 13. “Perfect,” you think, watching them disappear into the distance. They’re making their move, just as planned.

Kidd, who has been silently observing the entire interaction, feels a surge of possessiveness boil up inside him. His eyes narrow dangerously as he lashes out at Killer, his voice sharp and accusatory. “What the hell are you doing, Killer? We’re in the middle of a fight, and you’re letting yourself get distracted?”

Killer, now pulled out of his daze, looks up at his captain, realizing the predicament he’s in. “Captain, I can explain—” He hesitates, his usual calm demeanor shaken. “I think… I might be in love.”

The absurdity of his confession hangs in the air for a moment, and you can’t help but chuckle softly. With a fluid motion, you gracefully rise from your position, leaving Killer lying there, flustered and bewildered. You cast a final, teasing glance his way before turning back toward Zoro.

Zoro, still grinning, shakes his head as you approach. “You sure know how to stir things up,” he comments, his tone admiring.

You shrug playfully, adjusting your grip on your blade. “Just keeping things interesting. Now, where were we?”

Luffy, still laughing at the scene he just witnessed, dodges effortlessly as the Navy soldiers fire cannonball after cannonball at him. He weaves through the explosions with ease, grinning as if this were nothing more than a game. The Navy soldiers, growing increasingly desperate, switch to firing bullets. Zoro and you move in sync, your blades flashing as they deflect the incoming rounds, the sharp clang of steel on metal ringing out.

In the midst of the chaos, you notice a Navy soldier charging toward you, blade drawn. With a swift move, you sidestep, slashing through the soldier’s defenses with precision. But then, out of the corner of your eye, you catch sight of another threat—a soldier poised to strike Law from behind.

Without a second thought, you shout to Zoro, “Cover me!”

“What?” Zoro mumbles, momentarily confused by your sudden request.

“Just do it!” you yell as you sprint toward Law, determined to intercept the attack. Your heart pounds as you close the distance, ready to strike the soldier down before he can harm Law.

But just as you’re about to make contact, Law glances at you, his eyes sharp with concentration. With a swift gesture, he uses his ability, switching your body with the soldier’s in an instant. You barely have time to register the change before you find yourself tumbling forward, only to land squarely on Law’s chest.

Law’s arm wraps around you instinctively, holding you close as you both catch your breath. His usual cool demeanor cracks slightly as he looks down at you, his expression somewhere between annoyance and amusement. “You really need to watch where you’re going,” he mutters, his voice low.

You smirk up at him, your face inches from his. “I had it under control. But thanks for the save”

Before Law can respond, Bepo comes bounding down the steps, followed closely by Penguin and Shachi. The sight of you lying on Law’s chest doesn’t escape their notice. 

“Captain, looks like you’ve caught something interesting,” Bepo teases, his voice a mix of admiration and embarrassment.

Penguin snickers, nudging Shachi. “Hey, Shachi, think the captain’s finally met his match?”

Shachi grins, adding, “Or maybe he’s just found a new way to ‘switch’ things up.”

Law’s grip on you tightens slightly, his eyes narrowing at his crewmates. “That’s enough out of you three,” he snaps, though there’s a faint blush creeping up his neck.

You can’t help but laugh at the banter, the tension of the battle momentarily lifted by the playful exchange. “Careful, Law,” you whisper teasingly, “wouldn’t want your crew to get the wrong idea.”

As Law helps you to your feet, you take a moment to brush yourself off, your eyes lingering on his for just a second longer than necessary. A playful glint sparkles in your gaze as you step closer to him, close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating from his body.

“Thanks for the assist, Law,” you purr, your voice dripping with flirtation. Before he can react, you lean in and press a quick, soft kiss to his cheek, leaving a faint blush on his usually stoic face.

Law freezes for a moment, clearly caught off guard, his cool demeanor slipping. “What was that for?” he mutters, his voice a little rougher than usual as he tries to regain his composure.

You smirk, stepping back with a teasing grin. “Consider it a thank you. You know, for keeping me from getting skewered.” Your tone is light, but there’s a sultry edge to your words that leaves Law momentarily speechless.

Bepo, Penguin, and Shachi, having witnessed the whole thing, burst into laughter, unable to resist adding their two cents.

“Oh, Captain, you’re really moving up in the world,” Penguin teases, his grin wide.

Shachi chuckles, nudging Bepo. “Guess our captain’s got some charm after all.”

Law’s face darkens as he glares at his crewmates, though the blush on his cheeks betrays his usual composure. “You all really don’t know when to quit, do you?” he grumbles, clearly flustered.

You can’t help but laugh, thoroughly enjoying the effect you’ve had on the normally unflappable surgeon. “Don’t worry, Law. I’ll be around if you need another ‘thank you’ later,” you say with a wink, your voice teasing.

As Luffy’s voice echoes outside the auction house, you feel the weight of the battle and the urgency in his call. “Hey Zoro, Y/N! Let’s head out! The coast looks clear! Right!” Luffy’s voice is full of determination, but before you can make a dash for it, a marine manages to grab you from behind, pulling you down with a strong grip.

You struggle against him, adrenaline coursing through your veins. “Luffy, don’t worry! I’ll stay for a few more minutes! You guys go ahead!” you shout, trying to keep your voice steady despite the situation. “I’ll yell out when you pull me, got it, Luffy?”

Luffy hesitates, his wide eyes full of worry. “I can’t leave you!” he yells back, torn between his loyalty and the need to keep moving.

“Just do it! Trust me!” you command, grabbing the marine by his uniform and slamming him to the ground with a forceful move. “Go now!”

Luffy grits his teeth, torn but knowing he has to trust you. With a reluctant nod, he dashes off, joining Zoro as they make their escape. It’s not long before Luffy catches up with Sanji’s group, but the tension is palpable.

Sanji’s eyes darted around, his heart pounding with anxiety. “Luffy, why is Y/N staying behind?!”

“She’s only staying for a few minutes, but she’ll signal me when it’s time,” Luffy explains, his voice tight with worry. “Damn it!” Sanji curses under his breath, his fists clenching in frustration. He can’t stand the thought of you in danger, especially when he’s not there to protect you.

Back at the auction house, you fend off wave after wave of marines, your movements becoming slower as the effects of Chopper’s medicine start to wear off. “Damn it, I only have a few good minutes left,” you mutter to yourself, feeling the exhaustion creeping in.

Suddenly, a marine captain looms over you, his blade raised high, ready to strike. “You’re mine now, pirate!” he snarls. But just as his sword begins to descend, something strange happens. The blade slips from his grasp, clattering to the ground. The captain’s eyes widen in shock as he watches all the metal around him, including the armor of his men, get sucked away by an unseen force.

You feel your own blade tugging in your hand, but your strong grip keeps it in place. Before you can fully comprehend what’s happening, a flash of movement catches your eye. Suddenly, you’re being lifted off the ground, strong arms holding you securely.

Kidd’s power repels the metal toward the marines, knocking them out one by one with a relentless force. You look up to see Killer holding you tightly, ensuring you’re not hurt. His presence is both comforting and protective.

Kidd hovers over Killer, his gaze intense as he kneels down to check on you. “I got you, Doll. You’re safe now,” Kidd murmurs, his voice surprisingly gentle as he caresses your cheek and hair, his fingers lingering a bit too long.

With what little strength you have left, you reach up, your hand resting against Kidd’s chest. You smirk, your voice low. “You know, Kidd, you’re not so bad up close. Maybe next time, we’ll skip the battle and get straight to the fun.” You let your fingers trace lightly over his chest, enjoying the way his eyes darken with a mix of surprise and desire.

Kidd’s grin widens, his possessive side flaring up as he leans closer. “I’ll hold you to that, Doll. The New World’s gonna be a lot more interesting with you around.”

You chuckle softly, but before things can get any further, you yell out, “Luffy! Now!”

In an instant, Luffy’s stretched arm wraps around your waist, and you’re pulled away from Kidd and Killer’s grasp. As you’re being drawn back toward your crew, you blow them a playful kiss. “This was fun, boys. Can’t wait for a repeat in the New World,” you tease, your voice carrying a flirty edge that lingers in the air.

Kidd watches you with a heated gaze, his hand still tingling from where you touched him. Killer’s eyes, though hidden behind his mask, seem to follow your every movement.

As you’re pulled back toward safety, a sudden bright light flashes from your left side, catching your attention. Your eyes narrow as you try to discern its source, wondering if it’s another enemy lurking in Grove 13. The light grows brighter, and you feel a new wave of tension rising within you, knowing that whatever’s coming could change the course of this chaotic battle once again.

.

.

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.  We Got another long chapter! What can I say I love the details and this was very fun to write. Looks like Sanji got himself some competition with Law, Killer and Kidd. and Y/N cant help but flirt with these men! cant complain cause id do it too lmfaooo!!! This next chapter you guys don't want to miss! Thank you guys for following, liking, and reblogging the story. Chapter 4 will be written tonight and posted tonight! 

[canary-prince]

Poems I Associate With Various Yellowjackets Characters

I'd make edits of them if I was motivated enough. I can't find one I like for Mari and I have a single stanza I like for Akilah but wish something more substantial and had showed up for her. If you guys are into poetry, feel free to make suggestions.

Shauna: deeply-rooted, Spider Perry, full text

mugwort and the water boils red willow and the sickle harvests pennyroyal and the sun dries juniper and the tea steeps wild carrot drink deep, drink up silphium we will hold you through it black cohosh until you rise from your bed of blood Natalie: To The Young Who Want To Die, Gwendolyn Brooks, full text

Sit down. Inhale. Exhale. The gun will wait. The lake will wait. The tall gall in the small seductive vial will wait will wait: will wait a week: will wait through April. You do not have to die this certain day. Death will abide, will pamper your postponement. I assure you death will wait. Death has a lot of time. Death can attend to you tomorrow. Or next week. Death is just down the street; is most obliging neighbor; can meet you any moment.

You need not die today. Stay here–through pout or pain or peskyness. Stay here. See what the news is going to be tomorrow.

Graves grow no green that you can use. Remember, green’s your color. You are Spring.

Lottie: Crepuscule, e.e. cummings, full text with modified formatting

I will wade out until my thighs are steeped in burn- ing flowers I will take the sun in my mouth and leap into the ripe air with closed eyes to dash against darkness in the sleeping curves of my body Shall enter fingers of smooth mastery with chasteness of sea-girls Will I complete the mystery of my flesh I will rise after a thousand years lipping flowers and set my teeth in the silver of the moon

Misty: Me Up At Does, e.e. cummings, full text

Me up at does

out of the floor quietly Stare

a poisoned mouse

still who alive

is asking What have i done that

You wouldn’t have

Laura Lee: Queen of Swords , Judy Grahn, brief quote

She is veiled You can only see part of her at a time-- a crescent, like the moon. Even so, she is so luminious she hurts the eyes.

Van: Death Comes To Me Again, Dorianne Laux, full text

Death comes to me again, a girl in a cotton slip, barefoot, giggling. It’s not so terrible she tells me, not like you think, all darkness and silence. There are windchimes and the smell of lemons, some days it rains, but more often the air is dry and sweet. I sit beneath the staircase built from hair and bone and listen to the voices of the living. I like it, she says, shaking the dust from her hair, especially when they fight, and when they sing.

Taissa: Let July Be July, Morgan Harper Nichols, full text

Let July be July

Let August be August

And let yourself be

Even in the uncertainty

You don’t have to fix everything

You don’t have to solve everything

And you can still find peace and grow

In the wild of changing things

Akilah: Tea, Leila Chatti, single stanza

I can barely get out of bed. So I make tea. I stand at the window while I wait. My feet are cold and the radio plays its little sounds. I do the small thing I know how to do to care for myself. I am trying to notice joy which means survive. I do this all day, and then the next.

Jackie: a girl is asked about herself for the first time, Spencer Wollan, full text

i was at the dinner table the first time someone told me, “God does not exist.” I haven’t had a dream since then.

sometimes, i imagine dying like it’s a good magic trick—sometimes, i imagine dying and it feels like driving home

often, i want to pry open the mouth of a lion cut out her tongue, and wait for her to fight back with just teeth

what i mean to say, is i’m nothing to scream about. nothing to shine a light on or give a pair of hands to.

what i mean to say, is i’m just another way out of the ocean.

what i mean to say, is i drove home from my own baptism fully believing i had just narrowly escaped drowning.

Mari:

Travis: If I Never See You Again, Charles Bukowski, full text with intact formatting

If I never see you again I will always carry you inside outside

on my fingertips and at brain edges

and in centers centers of what I am of what remains

Melissa: Her Kind, Anne Sexton, full text with slightly modified formatting

I have gone out, a possessed witch, haunting the black air, braver at night; dreaming evil, I have done my hitch over the plain houses, light by light: lonely thing, twelve-fingered, out of mind. A woman like that is not a woman, quite. I have been her kind. I have found the warm caves in the woods, filled them with skillets, carvings, shelves,    closets, silks, innumerable goods; fixed the suppers for the worms and the elves:    whining, rearranging the disaligned. A woman like that is misunderstood. I have been her kind. I have ridden in your cart, driver, waved my nude arms at villages going by,    learning the last bright routes, survivor    where your flames still bite my thigh and my ribs crack where your wheels wind.    A woman like that is not ashamed to die.    I have been her kind.

Callie: The Girl With Antlers, Ansel Elkins, First stanza

I tore myself out of my own mother's womb. There was no other way to arrive in this world. A terrified midwife named me Monster and left me in the pine woods with only the moon. My mother's blood dripped from my treed head.

In a dream, my mother came to me and said if I was to survive I must find joy within my own wild self.

When I awoke I was alone in solitude's blue woods.

[bluegalaxygirl]

Obsession's Grip (Zosan X Reader) P1

Plot: After saving some of the straw hat crew from a prison, the crew help takes a young man away so he can have a fresh start in life. He's shy but seems to grow attached to Reader in an unhealthy way.

Warning: Snakes, Bad language, Violence and Making out.

Reader is Female (Sorry), Zoro X Sanji X Reader, Poly relationship, established relationship. Reader has the ability to control the snake tattoos on her arms that come alive when she commands, they can change size and are connected to her emotions.

P2 - P3 - P4 - P5 - P6 - P7 - P8 - P9 - P10 - P11 - P12 - P13 - P14

You couldn't blame your three crew mates for getting caught by marines, it was a stupid plan to begin with and your surprised only Nami, Usopp and Brook got captured, the only thing your hating at the moment is the prison your currently in. A place designed to disorientate prisoners if they escape, it's a maze of cells, random rooms and dead ends but thanks to the help of your snake's sense you managed to navigate the halls to find your crew mates. Your snake slithers in front of you using its tongue to smell out for Nami's perfume as you run behind it taking on anyone who gets in its way so your snake can focus, kicking the legs out from under a marine you kick him into another sending the two tumbling into a cell which you quickly lock with the keys they dropped. A yell of fear calls out from down the hall getting you to run towards it, you may have lost sight of your snake but you can feel where it is so found it easy to run down the halls until the large snake is in sight. Its tongue flicks in and out of its mouth while glaring into a cell, a small low hiss coming from its closed mouth letting you know it not happy "Calm down will you" Nami's voice yells out as you walk towards the cell soon seeing your three crew mates tied up and a young man in a janitors uniform trying to unlock Brooks sea prism cuffs with a key "I-i'ts huge" The young man panics his eyes fixed on your snake while his hands fiddle with Brooks cuffs trying to get the key in while his hands shake. Patting your snake it clams down at your presence as you walk into the cell earning happy cheers from Nami and Usopp "Sorry it took so long" You smile bending down to pick up the key's on the cold stone floor before unlocking the cuff on your two friends.

The young man looks you over before looking back at your snake still fearful even though its no longer looking at him instead its now looking down the hallway for any trouble while smelling the air. Once you've uncuffed Nami and Usopp spring up giving you a tight hug which you happily return "We're so happy you came" The two cry into your shoulders making you sigh while rubbing their backs, still seeing the young man struggling to get the cuffs off due to his shaking hands you know you have to calm him down. "Don't worry, it won't hurt you" You calmly state making the young man jump a little at your words before giving you a nod starting to calm down. Unlocking the cuffs and letting them drop to the floor, Brook takes in a big breath before sitting straight up causing the young man to jump in shock "I'm alive... well half alive, yooohooo" he calls out making you giggle a little while helping your friends up "Thanks for the help" Usopp smiles patting the young man on the back who shots up to his feet "I-its no problem, I-i'm glad i could help" The young man gulps before looking at you again, your snake pokes its head through the cell door to nudge your back wanting to get moving "Right, we should get going" You agree with your snake pushing its head out of the cell as you walk out into the hallway, your three crew mates follow but Nami looks back at the young man who's fidgeting with his hands. "Well come on, we made a deal, you get the key's, and we take you away from here" the navigator sighs annoyed at the young man but you place a hand on her shoulder while pointing to your snake "Hop on and I'll sort this out" The navigator nods at you heading over to your snake to sit on its back while Brook and Usopp sit on its large head.

Stepping into the cell you can now get a better look at the young man, he's timid to say the least and can hardly meet your eye, he's beyond skinny and his skin is pale indicating he hasn't been eating right and probably doesn't see the sun all that often. His hair is greasy and pulled into a large bun that looks very tatty showing he doesn't take care of himself or that he can't, It breaks your heart a little since he looks more like a prisoner than a janitor. You know if Zoro was here he would tell you to just leave him but you feel sorry for him, and he did make a deal with Nami so you at least have to try. "Thank you for your help in saving my friend's, i know my snake is scary but it won't hurt you" You smile hoping to get the young man to calm down a bit, but he still doesn't meet your eye "I'm Y/n, what's your name?" You ask as the young man slowly starts to relax around you "I'm... Percy" He finally replies's starting to look you over, giving him a kind smile you hold out your hand for him to take "It's nice to meet you Percy, now come on, let get you out of here. Our Cook's the best in the world, he'll happily make you what ever you want to eat once we get out of here" He hesitates for a moment before slowly reaching out and taking your hand, walking him out of the cell you help him onto your snakes back before sitting behind him since you didn't want him to fall off in his weak state. Patting your snake it nods before slithering off through the halls, the walls and cells go past in a blur due to how fast it's going and despite the sharp turns the ride is smooth.

It isn't long until you see the sun light shining through the large metal gates that Zoro cut open long ago, the sound of fighting outside becomes louder and louder until your right on top of the fight "Hay Guys" Brook and Usopp yell from your snakes head while waving their hands to get the crew's attention, Luffy punches a marine into the water before turning to the giant snake heading their way "Their here" The captain yells getting the rest of the crew's attention while waving back to his friends with a laugh. Franky is quick to rush back to the sunny to start steering the ship and get their escape ready while Luffy, Robin, Chopper, Zoro and Sanji take on the last of the marines. "Keep heading to the ship" You call out to your snake not wanting it to stop and say hi, it nods slithering past the crew as they kick, slice, punch and slap the marines aside making an easy path for your Snake to slither though. Once on the ship your snake lets everyone off while looking out to sea, a marine ship is heading your way so it lets out a loud hiss giving the crew a warning. Nami's quickly run up to the wheel taking over from Franky before giving orders "Brook, Y/n protect the ship, Franky fire back at the marine ship, Usopp help the other get on board" She yells out steering the ship starting to turn it away from the prison's port, nodding to you snake it nods back blocking two cannon balls with its body and head managing to knock them into the water while Brook slices another two in half. Seeing Percy standing on the deck you quickly push him down to the floor not meaning to be rough but you know he'll get hurt just standing there like that "Stay down, i don't want you to get hurt" You state calmly before standing back up and looking around the deck.

The others aren't back yet making you worry but you soon find the reason why, Usopp is still kissing the grass on the Sunny's deck happy to be back "Usopp, stop kissing the ship" You yell at the long nosed man picking him up by the back of his shirt and pulling him over to the side of the ship, confused at first the sniper doesn't understand what you want until he see's the situation ahead of him. The crew still on solid ground are fighting a new wave of marines who have made it out of the prison making it hard from them to get back without someone getting hurt. "R-right, leave it to me" Letting the sniper go you turn to your snake soon hearing a loud bang, The sunny fires back at the marine ship managing to break its mast slowing its speed but with its cannons still intact Brook, you and your snake are struggling to stop the constant cannon fire from damaging the ship. You coat your hands and arms in Armament Haki hitting cannon balls that fly your way as Usopp fires his green star aiming it at a small gap between the crew fighting and the marines on land, large carnivorous plants break out of the concrete grabbing onto the marines with their vines and mouths. "Franky hurry up and take that ship out, You guys get on board now" Nami yells out since the ship is now in the correct passion to get out of the situation, with one last cannon fire from the Sunny the marine ship breaks in two, unfortunately before it starts to sink the ship fires everything they have to stop the Sunny. Several cannon balls fly at the ship two being cut down by Brook, while two others hit your snake as it tries to protect the ship from damage, unfortunately one got past the two heading right for Percy.

Running quickly you tackle the young man out-of-the-way leaving the cannon ball to hit the stairs, rolling on the floor you soon come to a stop as the others finally make it onto the Sunny, Nami yells out a quick warning before pressing the butter for a coup de burst. Everyone hangs on tight to something as the Sunny launches into the air getting further and further away from the prison, grabbing onto the mast bench you hold onto Percy who's laying under you, the young man wraps his arms around you trying to hold on until the ship finally crashes back into the water. Sighing in relief you lift yourself off the young man who watches your very move with wide eyes, standing you push some hair out of your face before holding out your hand to him "You ok?" You ask giving him a concerned look but that soon turns into shock as he shoots up to sit on his knees and hug your waist burring his face into your stomach "Thank you, thank you so much" Percy cry's into your stomach, before you can comfort him angry storming footsteps get your attention "Bastard, get off her" Sanji yells his eyes burning into the young man who's holding you while raising his leg "No, no, it's ok" You hold your hands out managing to stop Sanji from kicking Percy across the ship, the cook looks at you in confusion as the others walk over to see what the fuss is about "Urm? New friend Y/n?" Luffy asks searching his head but you sigh and try to pull the young man off you, despite how weak he looks Percy has quite the grip and hardly budges as you try to unlock his hands that are wrapped tightly around you "N-No not quite... please let go, your safe now" You laugh nervously while looking down at Percy who's refusing to budge "Oi, the lady said get off, now" Sanji growls slamming his foot onto the ground right next to the young man while grabbing the back of his shirt as a warning.

The sound of thin metal dragging along the floor get you to look over seeing Usopptrying to stop a very angry Zoro from walking over "he helped us out, he got us the keys to our cell and out cuffs, we said we'd take him with us... he's just scared there no need to kill him" Usopp tries to explain while slightly panicking placing his hands on the swordsman's chest but the sniper just slides backwards as Zoro continues to walk over his sword scraping along the floor next to him. Hearing all the ruckus Percy looks up from your stomach his eyes meeting yours before he turns to look at the blonde man growling behind him still gripping his shirt and then over to the pissed off swordsman, the young man's eyes widen at the murderous look in the green haired mans's eyes. "He's a marine... Let go, or I'll cut your arms off" The swordsman growls stopping in front of you and Percy while shoving Usopp side and pointing the tip of his sword in the young man's face. Percy gulps and finally lets you go letting you step back and away from him "Are you ok my love? Did he hurt you?" The cook asks running over to you and cupping your face in his hands starting to look you over for any cuts or bruises but you take his hands and shake your head "No, i'm fine. He's just scared" You try to explain while pulling his hands off your face. Luffy walks right up the Percy and looks him over with a hum before smiling "Thanks for helping my friends, I'm Monkey D Luffy" The captain holds out his hand for the young man to shake.

Still in shock Percy keeps his wide eyes on Zoro but takes Luffy's hand to shake it "I-I'm Percy" Sanji glares not liking the man being on the ship while wrapping his arms around you waist, but he can't go against the captain who seems to like the young man "Are you sure your ok my love?" The cook asks pulling you into his chest, wrapping your arms around his neck you place a light kiss in his lips "I'm fine really" you reassure hoping to ease his worries, it was quite uncomfortable having the young man cling onto you like that but then again you did save his life, and he's away from that prison, he's just grateful. "He's not a marine, please put it away" Usopp sighs while rubbing his head finally managing to get a word in after Luffy has finished talking Percy's ear off but the swordsman doesn't budge "Then what is he then?" Chopper asks as he tries to hide behind Robin's leg who laughs at him since he's doing it backwards "He's a deserter" Nami calls out coming down the stairs and over to the group hoping to explain and calm everyone down "Listen we'll explain all this later, for now we need to fix the ship and i need a drink" The navigator sighs while rubbing her head, Luffy jumps up with a big smile while taking Percy's arm dragging him up with the captain "Sanji, can you cook up something, mainly meat" The captain laughs while dragging the young man to the kitchen some of the other starting to follow in agreement. Sanji sigh and places a kiss on your lips before reluctantly letting you go, Zoro groans putting his sword away and making his way over to the two of you "I don't like this" He states only for a hand to be placed on his shoulder "You'll understand later... I'll give you five minutes Sanji" Nami smiles with a wink walking past the three of you and to the kitchen.

Sanji gives her a big smile while swaying a little hearts appearing in his eyes, happy that he didn't have to rush away from you "Thank you, Nami-Swan" Sanji happily calls out after her watching the navigator walk into the kitchen and close the door. Zoro takes a step closer wrapping an arm around your waist, his eye looking you over as you run your hand up his chest and to his cheek, leaning in you place a soft kiss on his lips which he quickly deepens by shoving his tongue into your mouth. The slight giggle you let out gets Sanji's attention, turning the cook smile at the two of you while stepping closer wrapping his arms around the two of you and placing a kiss on your neck and then one on Zoro's. Pulling away you smile up at the swordsman "Must have been one hell of a fight" You tease while biting your lip making him groan and tilt his head from side to side "Its was ok" he states earning a laugh off Sanji who shakes his head and leans up to place a kiss on the swordsman's cheek "Please, you were having so much out there" The cook comments, Zoro smirks while crashing his lips onto the blondes, the two hum in unison as the swordsman shoves his tongue into Sanji's already slightly open mouth, their kiss goes on for a while and its then you notice your Snake hovering over Franky. The Cyborg sighs looking over the smashed up stairs while patting your snakes head who had lowered it as an apology "Hay you did a good job protecting the ship pal, don't put yourself down" The cyborg give your snake a big smile before starting to work. "Baby, your not paying attention" Zoro nips at your neck making you jump slightly at his sudden action.

Sanji rubs your side with a small laugh pulling you in closer, so he can lightly place his lips on yours, "Sorry" You mumble against his lips before lightly biting his lower lip, the cooks smile gets even bigger while opening his mouth for you, letting your tongue in it moves around with his. A light hum leaves your lips feeling content in this moment but soon you have to pull away from the kiss panting for air, your snake lets out a hiss behind you patiently waiting until you were done before nudging your arm wanting to go back. Turning you hold your arms out letting your Snake pressing its head into your chest as you rub the sides of its face "You did such a good job" You praise lifting its head up so you can kiss its snout, the swordsman smirks while rubbing his hand over some slightly damaged scales on your snakes neck "You really took a hit there bud but its nothing you can't handle, right?" Zoro asks earning a nod and a proud hiss, your snakes can heal very quickly so it'll most likely take a day for it to fully heal. Your snake nudging your arm again asking to go back so you pat its head while nodding your head giving it permission to go back, the large snake shrinking as it wraps around your arm starting to turn back into a normal looking tattoo. "Come on love, lets get you some tea" Sanji smiles placing a kiss on your temple while taking your hand starting to lead you over to the stairs, the swordsman kisses the side of your head and places his arm around your waist following close "I need Sake" Zoro mumbles making Sanji sigh and shake his head "One cup, we need you sober in case the new guy causes a problem" Despite the long annoyed groan the swordsman lets out he didn't argue back, he knows for once the cook is right, but he won't admit it.

[bealuminara]

Faded Lines

Simon Riley x Reader

Yn, the billionaire heiress trapped in a life she never chose, craves freedom—not love. Ghost, the ruthless mafia. Both needs something, which they cannot get. She believes in forever. He believes in momentary. In a world of power, danger, and secrets—will love find a way, or will they walk away before it begins?

Chapter 1

Yn

It was early spring. The cold breeze passed gently through the old tree. The swing hung lazily and swung slightly due to the wind. Birds chirping filled my room. I wished I could just fly like them. The air was filled with a strong scent of soft musk of trees, laced with the scent of the earth. It was peaceful. But inside my house was quite the opposite. A baby's angry cries with someone shouting about something. Clattering of glass followed but a slam of door. And suddenly everything stopped. All I could hear is the birds chirping.

I could feel my mother's stare. "Honey, I brought you some herbal tea. It's good for your skin, and specifically-" she continued. I had a feeling. Nowadays all my mother cared about was how I looked, smelt, sat, walked and so on. I am exhausted. I gave her a smile which did not even touch my eyes.

Today was the day, I was scared of. "Day of selection". I was given a month to choose a suitor for me- a suitable husband and man to take care of my father's property. I did not want to get married, at least not now. One thing that I learnt in years is that, my parents loved property, money, and power. I did not find a guy and now I am forced to choose between men, who only like me because of the money I come with. I really wished my prince charming would come and rescue me. Whenever I thought of prince charming, this specific person would pop up in my mind. A teen boy, I don't remember how he looks, or if he is even alive but I would love to meet him. He was my childhood crush. A simple fantasy that i probably had when I was in my teens, unbeknownst to how the real world goes. Poor me, I was never given a chance to choose. I always did what my parents asked me to. And now I regret every bit of it.

It was 6 pm. The corset hugged my chest and waist a little too tight. I could not breathe but it did not actually matter. The tighter the corset the thinner you look. Which also meant there will be eyes on my cleavage. It was disgusting. My mother made me do so much, just for this night.

There is a ball, more like a selection. I will have to choose a person, with whom I will have to spend the rest of my life with. And all I will be given is 3 hours. I am not a princess but I had power because of my father. My father, William Ford, has a lot of estates. I do not even properly know the exact number, money never really excited me. I preferred having a decent job and live a happy life, a free life, without constantly thinking about who will inherit my property. My father had an arranged marriage with my mother, Grace Brooks. It was suffocating, the thought of marrying a literal stranger. I wish I could escape. But my legs are chained. Well fate cannot be changed, can it?

As I entered the grand hall, the room was shimmered under the golden glow of the overhead golden chandelier. Bright but comforting golden rays filled the room. Dark red and white curtains draped down beside the large windows. The room was filled with men and women, in their most expensive clothes. Hands full of costly jewelry and watches which shone under the chandeliers' light.

The chaos came to pause and every single eye was on me. I smiled softly but I was choked with people's stare. Some men looked at me as if, I was a lottery. Maybe I was. After all no one came here to look for their future wife, they came here to inherit someone else's property. I slowly walked through the crowd, as no one approached me. But within a few seconds of me walking through the crowd, an unknown man started approaching me. After the umpteenth number of men dancing and talking with me, I had had enough. I was tired and a little fresh air could help. I was pretty sure no one would notice if I slipped away for a minute or two anyway.

As I stand by the railing, the soft air passes through my hair locks. I could breathe again. I wanted to sleep already, not that I have a choice. The full moon illuminated the outside. I let out a sigh. It was so peaceful, away from the chaos of the hall. It was kind of cold and I shivered.

Suddenly I felt a heavy coat over my shoulder. I gasped and turned around. Only to meet with a pair of dark brown eyes. He had slightly tousled brown hair, with a strong chiseled jawline, followed by cheekbone, gave him a sculpted appearance. He was attractive. He held a sharp gaze with me. He was slightly tanned. His masculine figure could be understood even when he was wearing a shirt. He was very close to me but I could smell his cologne. He smelt like scandalwood with a slight hint of cigar. He was addictive. Damn I could not stop staring and he understood that. He rough clearing of throat brought me back to reality.

"Um, sorry. I am alright, you can take your blazer. It's not that cold, I mean it is but, yeah." I was just muttering nonsense. I looked at him for any sort of answer. But he stared at me, shaked his and walked away, leaving me there. I did hear nor did I know his name. I wished I did not just embarrass myself like that. I found myself wanting to talk to him and I had to return his blazer anyway. I will find his name in the guest register later, but now I needed some rest. The ball was long forgotten. I knew I would have to listen to my father's disappointed speech later but I could not care less. But one thing was for sure, this unknown man would not be leaving my mind anytime soon.

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Likes and Reblogs are always appreciated!

-Bea

[eksvaized]

Part Nine König / Ghost / Reader [ Previous 〡 Next ] ︱AO3 ︱Wattpad ︱ taglist (if you want to be added - let me know!): @strawberrygato, @ghostslittlegf, @eskalotte, @abcdbleh, @yawning-grave81, @liamwholover, @valira-demaur, @idek101-01, @mizu-bozu, @pinkslaystation only one more chapter to go, yay!!

The moment Simon first steps into the room, your senses falter and fail to immediately recognize the man standing before you. As your eyes unwillingly land on an imposing figure, dressed entirely in black with a sinister skull mask obscuring his features, a scream erupts from your throat, only to be stifled by the tape on your mouth. Each deliberate, heavy step he takes towards you seems to echo ominously, causing your already terrified body to coil tighter in fear. The tension knotted in your muscles is pulled so taut; it feels as if it’s on the brink of snapping , like a wire stretched past its limit.

Desperately, you attempt to convince yourself that this is not real. You try to imagine that it’s only a nightmare. A mere figment of your overactive imagination. But when Simon sits on the edge of the bed and the mattress creaks under his weight, the sound resonates with a harsh reality that shatters your hope. It’s at this moment that you know, without a shadow of a doubt, it’s as real as the air you’re struggling to breathe.

His large, gloved fingertips trail slowly, almost delicately, under your quivering jaw before curling around your chin with an assertive forcefulness that brooks no resistance. His grasp is unyielding, forcing you to meet his gaze, to look into his eyes.

“It’s a shame our little fling has to end like this,” he mutters, his voice barely above a whisper. His thumb brushes across the rough surface of the tape, tracing the curve of your lips hidden beneath.

Your body instinctively shrinks away from his touch. A fresh wave of tears, akin to a looming storm cloud, wells up in the corners of your eyes, threatening to surge forth, ready to cascade down your already damp cheeks.

Before, his hands on your skin, his fingers caressing and kneading your flesh, his lips exploring the contours of your body—all of it kindled a fire inside you, leaving you yearning for more, consumed by a craving that was insatiable. But now, all you want is to repel him, to shove away his touch, to erase all memories of the times you willingly got in his bed.

At first, you fight back. Your body convulses and shakes violently on the bed as you try with every ounce of strength to let out a scream, to somehow make him back off. You grit your teeth, your muscles straining as you fight against the bindings. But as the struggle continues, a crippling exhaustion seeps into your limbs. You come to a grim realization that your efforts are in vain—there’s not much, if anything at all, that you can do while bound.

The only reason you force yourself to regain your composure, to calm your racing heart that is pounding against your ribcage like a wild animal in a cage, is the small glimmer of hope that shines in the darkness. If Simon has any intention of moving you out of here, out of this dimly lit, fear-soaked bedroom, he will have to untie your wrists from the headboard. And when that moment comes, you plan to seize that fleeting opportunity to make a run for it, to escape from this hellish nightmare.

You notice Simon incessantly glancing at his phone. His eyes flicking to the screen every few seconds. You can practically feel his mounting frustration, his rapidly dwindling patience filling the space with an oppressive tension. But then, the faint sound of a car pulling into the driveway penetrates the silence, causing him to spring to his feet. Your heart drops like a stone in your chest and your eyes widen in terror, your back suddenly slick with a cold, clammy sweat. Whoever he’s been awaiting, whoever he’s been so impatiently expecting, has now arrived, and you can’t help but dread what happens next.

In a swift movement, Simon pulls out a blade, twirling it in a nonchalant manner between his fingers as if it were nothing more than a toy. The incongruity of the situation - the casual display of the weapon - momentarily stuns you. He then presses the cold metal against your throat. The chill of it seeps into your skin. You’re too afraid to even breathe, your instincts screaming at you to pull your head back, to get as far away from the blade as possible. But his hand clamps onto the back of your neck, keeping you firmly in place against your frantic efforts.

“I’m going to cut the ropes now... but if you try to run—” His words send an icy shiver racing down your spine as he drags the blade across your skin, stopping abruptly as the sharp tip of it grazes your exposed collarbone. He doesn’t need to finish the sentence — the threat in his voice is clear enough, and the implication of what would happen if you tried to flee hangs heavy in the air.

The front door hinges creak, and the subtle sound of footsteps ring through the hallway, growing louder as they approach the bedroom. A wave of dizziness and panic washes over you, so intense it’s almost tangible. Your heart pounds violently against your rib cage, threatening to burst forth, and you have to expend every ounce of your remaining strength to brace yourself against the overpowering urge to faint.

Simon, his fingers firm around your shoulder, makes you sit up and instructs you to place your hands behind your back. You comply, your arms trembling. But before he can bind your wrists again, the bedroom door swings open with a dramatic flourish, causing both you and Simon to swivel your heads towards the ominous silhouette that now looms in the doorway.

In the dim light, you recognise König, and a shaky whimper escapes your dry, cracked lips, a sound that is half relief, half terror and muffled by the tape. Despite everything, you’ve never been happier or more relieved to see him; he wasn’t supposed to come home tonight. Simon straightens his back, his hand pushing you back into the bed with too much force. You crumple onto the mattress, your face buried in the cold linen.

König, however, wastes no time. He merely pauses for a split second, his eyes absorbing the scene like a hawk spotting its prey, before launching himself at Simon with the raw ferocity of a wild beast. When his clenched fist collides with Simon’s skull, you hear a sickening crack, and the shockingly loud sound of impact reverberates off the walls, sending a chilling echo through the room.

Summoning every ounce of strength that remained in your weary body, you manage to roll out of the bed. The harsh impact of the cold floor against your skin is jarring. You painstakingly pick yourself up, wincing as you rip the tape off your mouth. Your skin stings, your lips throb with residual pain, but the momentary discomfort is worth it as you’re finally able to take a deep, gasping breath, your lungs burning with the sheer effort.

“Lauft! Raus mit dir!” König roars when his eyes fall on your shaking frame; he has Simon pinned to the wall.

König doesn’t often use German around you, and your knowledge of the language is rudimentary at best. However, at this moment, you don’t need fluency to understand the command he’s issuing. His eyes, filled with a desperate plea, speak louder. As your heart thunders in your chest, adrenaline fueling your movements, you race out of the bedroom, but a sudden realization brings you to a halt.

König’s order is clear—he wants you to flee, to escape the danger and ensure your own safety. But leaving him to face Simon alone is a choice you can’t bear to make. The guilt that gnaws at your conscience is a harsh reminder that you are the root cause of this chaos—you are the one who let Simon into your lives. The ensuing guilt and shame, the overwhelming sense of responsibility, it consumes you.

The adrenaline courses through your veins like wildfire, setting every nerve in your body ablaze with a high alertness that makes drawing a full, satisfying breath an insurmountable task. With your heart pounding like a war drum, you sprint towards the kitchen, your movements frantic and slightly uncoordinated due to the sheer fear coursing through you. As you search the surroundings, your hands knock off various items from the countertops, causing a cacophony of shattering noises as several things break upon impact with the floor.

Finally, your fingers wraps around the handle of the largest knife you can find, its weight somehow comforting in your trembling grip. However, just as you turn around, an unexpected punch lands squarely in your stomach. The force of it knocks the wind out of you, causing your vision to blur and distort as you gasp for air.

You collapse onto your knees; the knife slipping from your grasp and clattering noisily across the floor. It ends up far from your reach when a boot kicks it towards the corner. As you attempt to rise, the same boot now stomps down on your arm, pinning you to the floor while a knee digs into your back, grinding against your spine with unyielding pressure.

“What the fuck, Ghost?” The voice of the stranger who attacked you booms out, but the only response is the sound of punches being traded from the direction of the bedroom.

Each breath comes in sharp gasps, as if fighting against the relentless pain scorching your back. Determined, you try to push yourself up again, pressing your palms into the hard floor. However, your efforts are thwarted as another forceful shove sends you sprawling back down.

When fingers wrap around your hair and your head is yanked upwards, you can’t suppress a whimper. “Hands behind your back!” The gruff voice barks into your ear, but stubborn defiance flares within you, and you refuse to heed the command.

The man growls in frustration, the sound raw and animalistic, and abruptly lets go of your hair. His hands immediately shift to your arms, yanking them back with a brute force that takes your breath away. You struggle against the iron grip, your limbs flailing, kicking and screaming in an attempt to break free. But even as you expend all your strength, the stranger proves to be stronger.

When you raise your head once more, it falls back down and your cheek meets the cold tiles, their chill seeping into your skin.

In a flurry of motion and raw emotion, König bursts in, his entrance into the kitchen akin to a hurricane. His eyes are ablaze, the fire of vengeance and unbridled rage dancing in his gaze. He takes in the scene, you, sprawled on the ground with a man over you, pinning you down to the ground without mercy.

The terror spikes in your heart and your eyes widen further when you notice a figure stealthily approaching König from behind. Like a predator, he lurks in the shadows, an ominous presence made more menacing by the mysterious object he clutches in his hand.

Simon. His name echoes in your mind as he comes into view. Using a sleeve of his shirt, he wipes the blood off his face. His mask has been ripped off, revealing his now bare face. His nose is twisted in an unnatural manner, likely broken, and his bottom lip is swollen, the skin around it an angry shade of red.

“Behind you!” You yell, but König doesn’t react because his focus is solely on you; his attention honed on the stranger above you. König lunges at the stranger, ready to rip him off from your prone form, his intention—to tear the stranger’s head off his shoulders.

But then, in a split second, with the abruptness of a lightning strike, someone’s gun goes off, its explosive noise shattering the tranquillity, only to be replaced by a haunting hush.

König stops abruptly in his tracks, his momentum suddenly coming to a complete halt, as if ensnared by invisible chains. The world seems to slow down as you watch the light slowly start to fade from his eyes, replaced by a distant, vacant stare. His lips part slightly, an unspoken word lingering on the tip of his tongue. He wants to say something, but can’t.

His intense gaze is fixed on you. But his body, which until now stood erect and defiant, starts to collapse, crumpling slowly down to the ground—not a single word, not even the faintest whisper, manages to escape his lips before he succumbs to his inevitable fall.

The once pristine white tiles beneath you now bear the grim witness to the ever-spreading stain of dark crimson blood. The pungent, metallic smell of iron forcefully invades your senses. Your voice is choked with sorrow, and you cry out his name, once, twice, and then multiple times, each utterance more desperate than the last. Your pleas ring through the silence, but König shows no signs of movement and remains still as a statue.

Simon stands at the doorway, his gun pointed directly at König’s head, but upon realizing that a single bullet was enough and he didn’t miss, he lowers his arm and his eyes fall on you.

[wintersongstress]

A Dream’s Winding Way

Part I — A Beetle in a Matchbox 

Pairing: Arthur Morgan (high honor) x Female Reader

Summary: For as long as you could remember, you dreamt of falling in a love so whole and pure it was worth enduring the many griefs in your life. But the world, cold and cruel as it was, robbed that dream from you, and you believed you would forever be broken until you met a man who was scarred in his own way.

Word Count: 9.2k

Warnings: sexual assault, grief (past loss of parents/caretaker). 

A/N: This story is about surviving sexual assault. Over the past two years I’ve been writing this an effort to cope and process my own experience, but I also set out to write this for others who have suffered this as well. I wanted to craft a story that explored healing, finding a partner who understands consent, and feeling safe with them. Not every reader may be in the headspace to read this as I deal heavily with the wave of emotions that comes after an attack. The attack itself I did not desire to go into violent detail of, but it is there and it may be triggering. 

Regardless, I want any reader who decides they aren’t in the right place to read this because of the triggers to know that healing is possible, that you are not broken, ugly, or worthless, and no matter how much trauma has taken from you, you can still live a good life. Arthur Morgan is a comfort character I imagine would be that partner who understands boundaries and vulnerability and sees a woman he holds feelings for as more than her pain.

Part Two | AO3 Link

In memory, the woolly tufts of a moon-white dandelion swayed in a long departed breeze. You held it close, contemplating your heart’s desire amidst the babble of brook and the music of birdsong.

I want my first time to be with someone I’ve given my heart to.

The wind sifted through your skirts and the trees, meanwhile the deepest hope of your heart unfurled with a wishful blow until all that remained of the dandelion was a bald stem. You cast it off into a pebbled stream for the water to claim. The seeds coasted in the air and a motherly breeze carried them in its gentle wake, cradling your wish to the future day it could come true. No spider webs ensnared them, and the canopy parted to admit their passage into the turquoise sky. On that bank you stood on the cusp of womanhood, your world lush with possibility and untouched by tragedy, allowing your young heart to nurture such a naïve fantasy in the spring sunshine. 

                                                            ~ * ~

                                      ~ I — A Beetle in a Matchbox ~

Sawtooth Mountain Range, Idaho. 1891

 In the before, life was a fairytale. It was rising with the sun to a land still cold from a night beneath the mountains’ shadow, where wildflowers purpled the meadows and dawn trailed amber fingers through the abundant evergreens. Every day you opened your kitchen door little changed. Each morning, before you unlatched the garden gate, you enjoyed the music of singing birds alone, breathed in deep the thick and clean scent of pine, and cherished every place the sunlight touched in this little, precious corner of the world. From spring thaw to fall frost, the morning grass beneath your lively step held pinhead glitters of dew, dampening your hem as you would amble to the chicken coop, basket in arm and contented at the sight of a tawny rabbit nipping at the vegetable patch. It was the rewarding routine and rustic simplicity of tending a goat and digging your fingers in the fresh soil of your garden, the enjoyment of friendly society while working at the hotel in town and the privilege of sharing a cottage with your grandmother—the only family you had left.

A few years after you were born you lost your parents to cholera. You had no memory, fond or otherwise, tethered to them and the objects they left behind to unfailingly inflict the salt and sting of grief. Tucked inside your blouse you kept your mother’s ring on a chain, and on your bedside table a portrait of them sat framed and propped. The coolness of the metal and the sepia tone of the photograph made you smile with gratitude for what pieces of them remained. Pieces that were soft and unserrated, that you could hold on to, thumb the edges, and feel only the smooth ease of kinship. But the most comforting reminder of them all was your grandmother.

To you, she was a soft-spoken and welcoming woman, one who had lived a full life beneath the sun by the token of her laugh lines and the fan of wrinkles beside each of her eyes. With others she was sensible and solemn, and not a person to scam or underestimate.

Few saw the side of her you did: the kindhearted woman whose hair you helped pin up in a nautilus of braids each morning, whose dainty collar was kept mathematically straight. She often took you through the forests and taught you all about herbs and curative plants, instructing you to gather the roots of ginseng and the ruby heads of yarrow for teas and tonics and you took an instant proclivity towards it. She gifted you with a stack of field guilds on mushrooms, wildflowers, trees, birds, and everything else within the forest to prepare you. With a cattleman stowed on your hip she trusted you to venture out alone, and your horse, Willa, carried back your fragrant pickings in large, leather sacks that hung from her saddle on the path home. In the evenings, through the space in the boughs overhead, a scarf of smoke greeted you from the cobbled chimney of your home, where inside a stew pot waited, simmering with the fragrant steams of vegetable broth.

Those were treasured times, and you would never fully appreciate the true goodness of those days until your grandmother passed away, because for as much as she taught you to watch out for yourself, you still had so much to learn about the dangers of the world.

The people from town came by to offer their condolences and casseroles, and Mr. Greely gave you a week’s pay and time to grieve. You would get back on your feet, you knew, but you were grateful for everyone’s generosity and sympathies.

Winter came, a season of most cold reflection, and the solitude of trackless snows resembled the emptiness in you. Food turned to ash in your mouth, the pale and placid blue of the sunrise on mountain snow stirred no awe in your eyes, and you drifted through life as if it were a waking dream. Loneliness was a pit, and long had you trailed the span of its walls with unfeeling hands to a degree of familiarity and cold comfort, circling, circling, listless and hollow. 

As snow did, melancholy mellowed with spring. A day came when you awoke and opened the windows of the cottage to a renewed earth, wherein the singing liberation of fresh streams and rosy birds suffused the air and lifted your spirits. A breeze stirred the curtains. A cloud melted in the sky. The serenest of sunshine warmed your cheeks and a wind cleared your lungs, and each breath you inhaled was like a sip of chamomile tea as it swept its balmy way through your body. Venturing out, steps bedded by clovers, the water you drew from the mossy well held your reflection, and within its silver glimmers you glimpsed a girl who had grown into womanhood and aged a year in the space of a season. You were not the only one to notice this change.

With the spring the surrounding woods grew replete with game, drawing in hunters from all around, of which included one familiar face: the town Sheriff. He rode a buckskin horse with syrup brown eyes and a tail so long it brushed the earth; a wild stallion he tamed himself. The horse’s dappled flank often carried deer pelts on his way back from the deep forest. A trail wound not far from your cottage and he loped up one day, checking on you. You spied the old cedar stock of his long gun, stowed in his saddle holster as he pulled up the reins, the fringe of his suede jacket rippling as he jounced to a stop.

A howdy was exchanged as you balanced a basket of currants on your hip. Hand cupped against your brow, the sun beamed warm through the straw of your hat and you offered a polite smile to the man with a neatly trimmed black mustache, his face otherwise clean-shaven. A few minutes of amiable conversation ensued—him discussing the heavy snowfall of the winter and you assuring him you managed the harsh season. He took a more meaningful tone when he inquired about living on your own, if you had a means to protect yourself, and if you happened upon any unfriendly-looking persons. You knew well how dangerous it was for a woman to live by herself, in the wilderness or otherwise, regardless of the presence of your father’s old hunting rifle mounted above the fireplace. His concern was not unwarranted, after all you supposed it was his job to keep the town and the people in it safe. Knowing that someone in the world was watching out for you was a small relief you welcomed, but you wished you peered past the cloak of concern to unveil the underlying intention behind his appraisal of your competence before it was too late.

He visited weekly. Oftentimes he brought a bundle of wildflowers he had collected on his journey over; bluebells, because they were his late wife’s favorite. And no shortage of compliments accompanied him, either. Both you accepted awkwardly, not used to receiving this sort of attention as you handled the uprooted, bent stalks with the utmost care. He was on his way with a tip of his Stetson before long, and you pushed all thoughts of men far from the forefront of your mind as his horse’s hooves thumped off into the waning afternoon.

You wished you paid more attention when the Sheriff spoke of his wife’s passing and tried to relate his grief to yours. He loved her, and the naïve part of your mind believed the love in his heart would remain and never dwindle, because the love you held for your family endured despite the tragedies. He made you laugh on occasion, made you look forward to his visits, and worst of all, he got you to trust him. But he began to ask things of you, about you. Questions too personal. Would you be looking to get married since you were of age? Were you sweet on anyone? Questions that made you stammer in a way he mistook for something other than being flustered.

For as long as you dreamed, you dreamt of what falling in love would be like. It was the momentous landmark you looked forward to reaching the most in life. Something worth treading the painful slopes and crumbling scree of loss. To disclose that dream to him would be to give the wrong person the right piece of yourself, so you guarded your answers to his intrusive questions with ambiguity. He would huff, thwarted, but somehow, in some inadvertent way, he took it as encouragement to think his forwardness was welcome, because maybe he never would have come to you that night.

An invincible storm had rolled in. Rain poured wild and cold against the windows in veins of silver mined from the ore of thunderclouds, battering the panes and drumming the roof. Dark through the wilderness shone the sheer slanting waves of the downpour, lashing against the trees until their branches bowed in submission, moonlight devoid throughout. Flows of water sluiced through the baskets of geraniums hanging in the eaves and ran off the shingles, splashing down upon the ground in rippling puddles that danced with each new drop. Droplets and branches tapped against the other side of the cool glass against your hand, meanwhile, at your back, your dinner popped and hissed in its pot. You turned and drifted away from the window pane at length, and let the lacy curtain fall back in place.  

After supping, you draped a knitted throw around your shoulders and settled near the fire at last, to doze and drift in the peace of falling rain while tucked inside, safe and warm. As logs of cedar and birch snapped, sadness tapped against the window of your mind, as it often did, and your gaze was lost to the flames in rumination, the book in your lap forgotten as you reckoned with your circumstances. You were as content as you were able to be without the ones you had lost, but in the hollow of your heart your grief was a wound that never healed and yawned at times. Your grandmother’s perfume of heavy, dark red roses still clung to the soft weft of the blanket you held close—a smell that made you tender towards the past. So many traces of their life upon the Earth remained. 

A horse’s whinny broke your reverie. Your book fell as you jolted from the chair, seeking out your gun on the table before investigating the disturbance. Willa was situated in the small stable, and if someone was outside—

Rigorous knocking rumbled through your door frame, followed by a familiar voice, pleading.

You set the gun down and yanked open the storm-pelted door. At the same time, a boulder of thunder rolled through the night. Across the land lightning flashed through the sky to illuminate the weathered face standing at your threshold.

“Sheriff? What on Earth—“

He barged past you without invitation, shotgun ready in hand. For all of an instant you stood frozen in bewilderment, until the gusts of wind billowing in prompted you to shut the door and your gaping mouth. He was on a mission, it appeared, because he ignored your protestations.

The Sheriff blustered his way through your tranquil home in a whirring of spurs and a splatter of muck. Dirt ankle-deep caked his riding boots, his feet muddier than a pig’s hooves as he searched about the main room in a frenzy, yanking open doors and shoving aside furniture. Each of his intrusive footsteps quaked the floors, shaking the fine dishware in its special cabinet, the copper pots hanging above the dry sink, and the shelves of jarred fruits and jams. He carried rainwater and the look of a storm in his wake, shattering the peace you found earlier this evening completely. From his ebony gun belt a hunting knife and a freshly-oiled Schofield hung prepared beside his Sheriff’s star.

You stood waiting, arms folded, for an explanation.

When the last place for him to search were the floorboards you stood upon, he sagged and sighed with relief, deflated. He removed his hat, his face no longer obscured to reveal the grim line of his mouth and a hard determination simmering in the umber of his eyes. At last, he explained himself.

He said he came as soon as he heard to make sure you were safe. Safe from what? you asked. Bad men were about, he stated. Outlaws, murderous train robbers and thieves wanted across two state lines. Men devoid of a human conscience. The words sunk in with a weighty silence of understanding, silence in which the rain filled and your imagination could wander to gruesome places. Strangers seldom passed through here, let alone outlaws, you commented.

“Now you understand my lack of decorum. I hope you can forgive my negligent manners.”

Solemnly, you nodded. The hairs along your arm had risen, skin prickled, and you sought the ring hanging from your neck out of habit. To hold it against your heart and trace its comforting shape kept you grounded in moments of uncertainty.

In his hands he fiddled with the brim of his hat. A puddle formed on the floor where he stood.

“You must be chilled to the bone,” you ventured. “I’ll pour you some whiskey.”

“That’d be mighty fine of you, miss.”

Your hospitality indicated a hesitant welcome, but the Sheriff was clueless to your apprehension. The rain subsided to a light tapping on the roof and window panes; he could have his drink and be on his way momentarily. You turned to busy yourself with finding a glass. Meanwhile, the click of his spurs trailed over to the wall hook. Fabric rustled as he hung up his Stetson and shed his dripping coat.

With no electricity, you relied on oil lamps to keep your cottage illuminated. The steady, amber glow cast from the etched glass sconces always imbued the acorn brown stain of the woodwork with warmth and charm. However, the Sheriff’s presence in your home inverted all the comfort you found within it. The dried herbs hanging in the rafters offered no rich and earthy smell, the bowl of fruit on the counter promised no sweet taste in the gleam of their ripe skins. But you ignored all of these perceptions and the insect crawl of wariness creeping along your spine and retrieved the bottle of rye whiskey you kept for medicinal purposes.

You kept your back to the Sheriff as you perused your selection of glassware for a suitable tumbler. Touch skipping lightly along the wood, dust coated your fingertips as you drew from the top shelf. In the pit of your stomach dread curdled. Outside, the storm had lessened, but another one of unease was brewing inwardly. Through the reflection of the cabinet doors you caught the Sheriff’s stare as you shut them, latched to your form. The shameless indulgence in his gaze provoked a flare of ire through you and you cleared your throat with an air of reproach.

“Where was this gang of Dutch van der Linde’s spotted?” You turned to him, shoulders and chin raised in an effort to appear untroubled. The question hung for a moment as the Sheriff considered where to place his undue shotgun. The stock settled against the table leg and he straightened at your approach, smoothing a hand over the broom of his mustache.

“Near Taylor Ranch,” he answered.

You blinked. Without a hat, shadows no longer concealed his pockmarked cheeks and the bushy, ungroomed lintels of his eyebrows. His shirt was wrinkled and damp from riding in the storm, clinging to his skin. The top two buttons were uncharacteristically undone, peeking wiry chest hair.

You had paused, but not because of his unkempt appearance. The whiskey shivered in tones of gold and brass as you set it on the table absently, along with the glass. Light from a lone, flickering candle caught the ginger liquid like a brazier.

“That’s only two miles from here.”

A log fell in the fireplace, spent, embers spitting.

“Indeed.”

He thumbed the curling petal of one of his bluebells, a faint smile dangling on the corner of his mouth. You had arranged the latest cluster of his in a porcelain pitcher set on your table. Below, your eyes dropped to where a few of the flowers had withered and fallen upon the table runner. 

Pondering, wood creaked as you retreated to the fireplace, leaving him to his drink and odd fascinations. Meanwhile your fingers worried with your cuffs, twisted in your skirt as you swirled in the eddy of your thoughts. The Taylors. Closing your eyes you remembered the smell of their home: fresh baked bread and strawberries. All of your visits had the flavor of berries and apples. A cross-stitched picture of a goose wearing a bonnet hung in their window and welcomed any who knocked on their door, which Mrs. Taylor would swing open with a smile and a gingham apron around her waist. 

Though she had a square jaw and chapped lips, crow’s feet and a stern demeanor, her hugs were the warmest and most welcoming. No one was a stranger at her doorstep for long, for she was quick to invite them in and fuss over a pot of tea and offer her finest plate stacked with shortbreads. Her motherly hospitality and friendliness of heart healed a wound your parents' loss opened. Taylor Ranch was a place you sought in the hours you yearned for solitude and contemplation, amity and freedom. Within their prized orchards resided plentiful avenues for you to explore in the summer and stroll through in the rustling Octobers, twisting from the trees the honey-sweet pendants of autumn to bake into pies. 

Marveling at the filigree of branches through which the sun cast its lemony light, it was in this enchanting place you first met the Taylors’ youngest son, Gideon. And what a meeting it was, all those years ago: he fell for you, literally—off an orchard ladder to a ground strewn with windfall apples, his collarbone snapping in the process. 

In a rush you swept to his side, apples thudding to the leafy ground. The boy roiled in pain, his face contorting, and you rose to action. His family came running when you called for help, and you did your best to haul him back to the house until his older brother retrieved him from where he leaned against your shoulder. Together you gingerly delivered him to the sofa in the sitting room and his father galloped to fetch the town doctor. 

You stayed at his side, this strange boy, noticed the dimples set in his pale cheeks and his russet hair—the rings of which his mother swept aside soothingly. Such soft features garnered an unfamiliar attention from within you. You had stared. 

The doctor arrived and set the bone, the grimacing sound and sight of which you closed your eyes against. Standing aside uselessly, you fidgeted with your mother’s ring for lack of occupation. Mrs. Taylor registered your worry and assured you that you were blameless for his injury. 

For days you thought of him. Though no words had passed between you, the glance you first shared with each other stilled time and lingered in a meadow of memory. Curiosity was all it was—towards a feeling, an interest in another. Gideon was the first boy to capture your attention in such a way. 

At the end of that week you returned to the ranch bearing a basket of sourdough biscuits. Slathered in honey, warm from the oven, your recipe yielded the fluffiest batch perfect for sharing. When she answered the door Mrs. Taylor had the most knowing smile on her face before calling over her shoulder. Gideon appeared a few moments later, a sling around his arm and a thumb hooked in his suspender. He had a hard time meeting your eyes and shifted on his feet when you offered to lunch with him. You sat on the porch together, enjoying the sight of chickens scratching at the fenced-off squares of dirt, of barn cats lazing in the sun, observing the last of autumn’s spell fading in the air. 

You visited him while he recovered, kindling something pure and sweet with him. He admired you a great deal. But afterwards, when he was well again and you had no excuse to see him other than the obvious, a kiss was sealed. How peculiar and unexpected it was, the moment he leaned towards you. Sitting beneath a giant oak tree while acorns dug into your hands, you found you dreaded it: the nearness of him. In your mind a kiss was a lucent dream of falling blossoms and a soft blue haze of light, like the very action were a twist of a key, unlocking your soul to another. At least, that was what you had wanted it to be, had always imagined it.  

When Gideon the boy kissed you it was a wet slide of his mouth—hungry, rushing, pressing hard and then sucking while his hands groped, seeking parts of your body you had yet to grow into. You sat frozen, eyes wide, not knowing how to move as his tongue roamed. So you took it. Afterwards, you wiped the ring of spittle around your mouth with your sleeve. He had smirked as he leaned away, and you no longer admired the dimples in his cheeks. You made an excuse to leave and when you returned home your grandmother asked if something was wrong, but you never overcame the shame of it to tell her. 

A revulsion built and simmered within you for the next few weeks. In town—for you had ceased to visit the ranch—he would press you against the clapboard behind the general store and beg for your lips and your hand to hold as he humped your hips, and he would tell you what he wanted you to wear when he next saw you. He was a foolish, over-eager boy, and he had no notion of romance or how to properly treat the one he was fond of. He knew so little about you and what your heart wanted, and you were disinclined to share any more of yourself with him. Unable to bear it any longer, you broke his heart, and he blamed you for every unhappiness henceforth. 

Throughout the passage of ten years his face and the unwelcome manner of his caresses remained unbearable to picture. No longer a boy, Gideon had grown from a clingy and imprudent child into a snobby and spiteful specimen of a man; an arrogant prig who filled his role of deputy at the Sheriff’s office exceptionally. You had long cast him from the forefront of your mind, but the Sheriff’s mentioning of the Taylor’s home and the threat posed to it brought the unpleasant recollections rushing back, and it took a moment before you recovered your composure. 

The heat of the fireplace fanned across your cheeks. In the night thunder cracked, calling you back into the atmosphere of the room, where you knelt at a stone hearth, ash on your sleeves. Wood gathered, logs clunked in the grate and scattered sparks as you tossed them in. Your thoughts of the past reached a conclusion at the glug of liquor filling a glass; with your back to your guest you broke the long lasting silence. 

“You should be checking on them, not me. Are you rounding up a posse?” 

A pouring of liquid answered. His eager lips approached the brim of the glass and swallowed it as if it were a fount of water in a desert. You turned to him as he filled it again. 

“I can’t do anything in this storm, and neither can those reprobates,” he pulled out a chair at the table, settling into it as happily as a worm in an apple. “‘Sides, Ned has hired guns and four strong boys to protect his property, whereas you‘re all alone out here—” A cough interrupted him. He blew an appreciative whistle once his throat was clear, sniffing the bottle. “This is some strong stuff you got here.”

Irritation flared within you at his blatant display of indecorum, evident by the propping up of his booted feet on your table. With his bandana pulled down low, the V of his throat gleamed with sweat as he tipped the full glass back. His Adam's apple bobbed, big as a turkey egg.

“Sheriff, while I am grateful for the trouble you’ve…” A drop of mud splattered on the table from his boot. You blinked at it. “—taken on my behalf, I’m perfectly capable of looking after myself.” Not bothering to hide your annoyance you poked and prodded the logs in the grate with a fire poker, leveling his gaze afterwards. His expression held not a drop of seriousness or concern.  

“I can see that,” he chuckled. The key of his voice rang clear with condescension. With a great sigh you hung the poker back on its stand and dusted off your hands, looking about the room with a curled lip. His earlier theatrics had displaced much of your furniture. 

Your throw blanket laid in a soft puddle on the floor. You bent and folded it in a neat square, draping it over the back of your armchair, and setting that straight, too.  

“You don’t need to worry. I’ll make sure those men don’t come near here. By high-noon tomorrow, they’ll be human fruit for the buzzards.” Trouble must have lined your expression, for the aura of pride radiating from his demeanor softened, and you found his gaze fixed moonily upon you. His words painted a grisly image of the scaffold in your mind, which dispelled with a shake of your head. 

“What are they looking for, do you think? There’s nothing for men like that out here.”  

You wandered over to the window. Behind you, the Sheriff capped the whiskey. 

“The law is after them. They pulled a heist near Salt Lake and now they’re on the run with some big score, looking for a place to hide and wait for the heat to die down. But they’re fools,” he huffed, gritting his teeth. “And get this, they apparently give their money back to poor folk, like some sort of Robin Hood gang. They think they’re hero outlaws doing good deeds.”

You had no idea what to think of that. The clock on the wall ticked. Some minutes had passed since the last rumble of thunder, and your hand had naturally sought the ring hanging around your neck in the course of staring off into the night; the rain only pattered, no longer drumming hard on the roof. 

“The rain is stopping,” you said. 

Chair legs scuffed across the floor. “I suppose I’ve worn out my welcome?” 

Turning, you rallied a tepid smile. He had risen to his full height, his clothes still damp and wrinkled. Looking at you, he passed a knuckle across his lips, the hairs of his mustache scritching and the gold of his wedding band flashing. Across the room dark eyes descended from your face, fixing on the hand near your breast. You dropped it and squared your shoulders. To bring his attention back to your face, you called out his name in question.

After all of these years, you wished you could have forgotten it. It would have been a small mercy to your memory.

“I’m sorry, I forget myself sometimes. It’s just…you’re so pretty, standing there in the firelight like that.” 

His voice was but a murmur. It was so strange—hearing those words from him. They were supposed to be soft, and from any other man they could be, but his brash voice and hungry stare ruined anything gentle about them. Like putting lace gloves on a fishmonger, they were all wrong and unsuitable for him. They prickled the cold kind of goosebumps down your arms, making you shiver like a rabbit caught in a trap.

At your speechlessness, he took a step in your direction.

“Sheriff,” you started, putting your hand up. Pressing on, you measured the tone of your voice to be as low and as serious as you could muster. “I think you’ve had a drop too many.”

He smirked at you, hooking his thumbs in his belt, beside his badge and his gun. One of his eyes crinkled and the crooked slant of his mouth revealed the stains of tobacco on his teeth. 

“No,” he continued on. His steps, as they advanced, grew more condemning than the ones before it, maintaining his slow and leisurely gait. “I’ve noticed it before. I’ve noticed for a long time.” 

The truth. So plain before you; it dawned dreadfully like a blood-red sun at sea, shone clear like coins in the murk of a well. The authenticity behind his hebdomadal visits and floral offerings rippled into clarity with those few words: for a long time. How could your eyes have looked everywhere but at the black heart of him? That moment, too, was no exception. You sought salvation from the sight of him by glancing around the room, meanwhile chiding yourself for not being more distrustful and vigilant and for overlooking his true intentions. 

Graciously, his foot knocked against something. You caught your breath. For a moment, you had the chance to scope out your options, and put some distance between you and him. 

The Sheriff picked up the object impeding his path. Your book—the one you had been trying to read before his fists pummeled your door. The embossed title flashed beneath his passing thumb. 

Wuthering Heights. 

Long ago the thundering storm and crackle of flame ebbed away, especially within those pages. Branches captured in the sway of a breeze adorned the cover modestly for such a tale of the nature of love and bitterness. 

“You’re lonelier than I thought,” he said, quiet and drifting like an afterthought. You tensed. “There’s another reason why I came here tonight.”

He set the book aside and stood. The sideboard rattled as your back bumped against it. 

“I think you should leave.”

“Leave? Is that what you really want?” 

In one devastating blink, he was before you, so close the thin and pale violet skin beneath his eyes was visible. The fumes of alcohol on his breath stung your nostrils and you wrinkled away as he tipped the sharp beak of his nose to sniff the crown of your head. 

You could not help the sharp breath you took at his sordid deeds, the sound of which only pulled his gaze to your quivering bodice and your knuckles, tightened on the edge of the sideboard. He had you blocked in, like a beetle trapped in a matchbox, skittering from corner to hopeless corner. He licked his lips. 

“How long are you going to play at this?” A touch meant to be soft and reassuring singed your wrist. “Always looking so pretty and proper, the picture of a perfect wife,” the touch of his hand turned into a vice grip, so total and absolute your fingers could not move. A numb feeling overtook your limbs, your senses held hostage by fear. “Then actin’ all innocent as if you don’t want me too.” 

Another touch, this time seizing your cheek coldly as the statue that you wish you were not. At the imminence of his hot, wet mouth seeking to devour yours you found it within yourself to move. A wave of urgency swelled up and carried you away, towards the door, but he had you in his grasp before any hopeful seed of escape could be planted. 

The kitchen table with its cheerful lace runner and softly burning candle jostled as your front was bent over it, knocking the pitcher of bluebells to the floor. Porcelain cracked and you watched the water pool, petals floating, darkening the wood, and you wished the night that passed would fall apart into similar pieces, to leave the memories scattered and unstrung like the beads of a broken necklace across a floor. 

“What’s it going to take with you,” he had hissed in your ear, his spittled words dripping black, wicked and vile. Metal jingled. Fabric lifted. Cold air met your legs. Buttons freed their hold.

Stop. 

“I always knew you were a—”

Stop remembering. 

“—pretty thing.”

Absorbed in his vice, he little cared for his actions, entranced by his insidious deed. Foul words and heavy breaths hissed through his teeth and echoed for years after. 

Your mind left your body. But you remembered all of it. 

And you were so tired of remembering. You hated how easy it was for him to take everything from you. You hated the lust that drove him, your body for being an object of his desire, and yourself for being unable to stop any of it from happening.

The ringing report of rifle fire split the night, and it was the only thing that made him stop. But the damage was done. He tucked his shirttail in, buckled his belt. Left; a promise to return the next evening finalized by a vulgar squeeze to your backside, stinging your flesh. 

Wood scraped along your nails as you slid to the floor, clutching the table leg, trembling. At once, with an empty stare and shaking limbs, tears blurred your sight as all of your remaining strength relinquished. You curled into your body, disconsolate. Hugged your knees. Sobs, sobs, sobs wrenched your jaw apart in mourning what was lost and what was done to you.

It would follow your every other thought, that scene of despair in the lonely dark of night. You were cold for so long afterwards; for months, in a way no blanket or bowl of soup could remedy. The misery nested so deep within you. Further than the marrow of your bones. 

Every day for the rest of your life you would remember his hands. On you, squeezing, guided and distorted by depraved intent. Darker and drearer fell the night, and the full tide of your thoughts consumed you in a bitter, burning woe. 

Until dawn there was nothing but the pale, dead gold of the moon. You saw nothing. You felt nothing. Your mind only replayed it all, over and over. 

The violent tint of dawn crept in between the curtains. On the end of your lashes the last of your tears hung, and as the light came upon you, so softly bright, the deep-welling sorrow that sunk your heart yawned into something else. An emotion that braced your hands against the wood floor, collected you to your knees, and drove you shuffling forward. Shame. 

In your bedroom you gathered soap and new clothes into a basket before stepping foot outside. A glorious morning announced itself in every sound, from the sweetest music filling the trees, to the wind that gently stirred their nascent leaves. But it all fell on deaf ears. Your senses were lost to grim contemplation. 

Along a forest path rippling waters wandered. To their source they led, and alongside its flow you followed. 

Ties loosened, you dropped your skirts to your feet at the riverbank. All over, your skin spidered with memories of how he had touched you. The fastenings of your clothes came undone mechanically. You pretzeled arms behind your back to yank at your shirt buttons until all of your body was bare to the misty morning. Silver water whispered its coldness between your toes as you stepped forward onto the pebbled, silty shore, walking without seeing, feeling nothing but the cold encasing your ankles, your knees, rising up until the river embraced your shoulders in a purging chill. With a breath you dipped under. In a blink you escaped. 

Beneath the surface, the feelings and the memories dimmed. Slippery rocks brushed your feet and you grasped a slimy branch to sink farther. Little white bubbles floated up as you let the wintry temperature of the water numb your mind into blessed silence. The sensation calmed you, and that was all you wanted; the only thing you could seek within your tremorous reach. Quiet, and a state of unfeeling. Until that moment all of your thoughts were a repetition of the same statement of instability and unease: I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to do. Teeth chattering; every pore over your body squirmed with the taint of his violation every step of the way to the river. Only beneath the current had it stopped. At last you ceased to think. 

Your heart seized and your lungs begged for air. And again, something brought you up. From the kitchen floor, from the bed of the river. With a gasp you broke the surface and your eyes fixed upon the sky. The great blue bowl of it was ringed with treetops, eagles circling—the world around you, going on as it should while droplets trickled down your spine. Clouds of river foam gathered around the stagnant driftwood you stepped over while treading to the bank. Taking a seat upon a rock, you scoured your limbs with soap until the skin squeaked and your fingers pruned, the bubbles drifting downstream. From your hand, ice cold, help deep in the river, the water fell over your knees and your shins, down your shoulders and in the hollow of your back, cleansing and numbing. With the print of the Sheriff’s fingers no longer pressed into your skin, you dried and dressed, ready to face the scene inside the cottage once again. 

Too often in this world girls become women before they are ready, before they are strong enough, before they know enough to endure all of the trials womanhood entails. Losing your family to sickness so young, being on your own completely, you thought your world was as bleak as it could be. Until the night that passed—when the universe peeled back another layer of darkness to descend over your life.

Upon approaching the front gate of the only home you had ever known, something changed. The familiar consolation of its shelter was absent. No smile tugged your lips at the dance of dragonflies in the air, at the tulip bulbs in your garden plot sprouting toothy stalks from the dirt. 

Within each season resided a singular wealth unique to the forest, the remembrances of which carved fond grooves in your mind to touch over in times you sought comfort, the niches imbued with a sense of belonging and safety. You reached inwards for them. 

For the trinkets of winter, silver, blue, and white—the sugaring of snow, the glittering of frost, the river’s music silenced by ice. Leading to the light of the sun warming once again, stout icicles dripping onto emerald moss, coaxing the golden crocus from the thaw. How, slowly, the days grow longer, April rain moistening the lichen on the roof tiles, darkening the soil, spawning the green scent of an Earth renewed. 

It was as if every page of memory were ripped from the book of your life, leaving an empty tome. There was no story left for you here. 

The door threw a trapezoid of light when you opened it. Standing in the threshold, a five-leaf cluster wandered down from the sky and landed on the floorboard, dotted damply with the night’s rain. Inside, everything was the same, yet changed, like some place in a dream. The house was as dark as a tomb, haunted with the echoes and dust of people taken from you, and someone who took from you. Nothing but a vacant chair welcomed you.  

On the mantle rested trinkets from your parents. A pocket mirror of your mother’s, silver and elegant, and a rosewood pipe of your father’s, smooth and genteel. To hold them in your palm, curl your fingers over their edges and clasp them to your skin as if wringing out the last ghosts of their touch, as you so often did, would only bring you to your knees. You needed to move forward and leave it all behind. You needed—

A chip crunched beneath your foot. You stepped away, revealing the obliterated piece of vase. What a helpless, fragile vessel. Admired throughout its lifetime, only to be thrust into ruin. Your hands shook beside you, the bones of your fingers tingling with riotous nerves all the while anguish swelled in your chest to a volcanic boiling point. 

A wrenching, piercing roar split your throat apart. 

In a rush the desecrated table toppled over. Screaming, you kicked it harder and harder until your toenails bled and the whole thing scudded ten feet across the floor. Your arms swung wildly about with each effort, fighting the images of yourself bent over it, helpless and frozen, and unable to beat them back. More and more you screamed with outrage, but it was not enough. You were not strong enough. Your limbs alone could not prevail. 

No man would ever know of the darkness their touch leaves behind. Meanwhile you would carry it forever.

It was not fair. 

Your rage conducted you outside, sustained you in the search of some outlet, some tool to deliver greater destruction than your feeble body could convey. Leaving the table behind, pools of last night’s rain splashed beneath your blazing step on the path to the shed where you kept your father’s axe. Jabbering cardinals flurried away to the trees at your storming approach and the sun graced your forehead through the lacings of the leaves they found shelter in. 

Ordinarily, the sight of so much emergent green abounding after one rainfall would stoke wonder in you. In one place, in one wind, the new leaves sang wavily while a cloud passed over the glare of the sun, bringing a cooler depth to the shades of the earth until all brightened and warmed again once the cloud melted away. After the longest winter, it was what your soul needed to fill the holes in your heart. Grief was becoming a part of your landscape, however. You stopped short on the path.

A wind-cloven branch warped the roof of the shed. It must have fallen in the night. The severed limb was great and heavy, and in the place where it was once joined to its life force the splintered wood was a tender, meaty white, darker in its center. Bugs skittered along the scales of lichen patching their once steady home; in days the leaves would wither and wilt.

With gravity and a few tugs the branch came down. As it lay upon the stone path, uprooted, your simmering rage found its outlet. This was something you could destroy. You reached inside the shed, and with it in your hand, the axe dragged across the ground. The curved edge shone sharp in the sun as it scraped along stone.  

Raising it above your shoulder, your limbs quaked before you released it all at last. Swing after swing, hack after hack, again and again you heaved the hatchet into the log, pieces splintering as memories of him came free as well. Him, his voice. How his acts of kindness were all a lie—a ploy to get you where he wanted you. Bent over a table. 

Crack. 

Alone. No one to help you. First Gideon with his groping hands, then the Sheriff with the smoldering fire in his eyes. 

A split. 

You braced your foot against the branch and twisted the hatchet free. Deeper and deeper down into the wood you burrowed, gathering venom with each reflection. As the branch fell apart and wood chunks flew your resolve stitched itself together. 

He.

 Swing. Your skin is so soft here.

Had.

  Breathe in. Forget his words.

No.

 Bury them. 

Right.

With a momentous strike the tree limb cracked asunder. A final scream tore your throat raw. The birds split free from the sunlit canopy, and the forest was still as your shriek petered to a shriveling wail, then nothing. 

The line of thought looping through your head quieted too. The uncertainty and fear of not knowing what to do, how to move forward from this, was gone. While the thread of anger and veins of sadness and shame still pulsed within, it all flowed together, steady and purposeful. The axe hung from your hand, dangled a scant inch from the ground, and your breathing relaxed as the sweat dried cool on your brow. 

Lightning had struck this tree twice before. Each fracture diminished its once formidable heights, an august maple which sheltered your childhood in the sweltering summers and cast familiar shadows in your room at bleary midnights. But every spring it flourished in a robe of green, the ruptures healing, new branches broadening their offshoots, and marched onwards to the grand vault of the heavens. However lightning-struck, it lived on, not dying of ruined hopes alone. 

The time to dwell had passed. You were done crying. You were done blaming yourself. And you were done with asking yourself why. What you were ready to do was protect yourself from ever getting hurt again. You could not let the pain stop you. So you finished chopping up the tree to break down into firewood later. 

A whicker sounded from the stable. Willa, your sweet, gentle mare. Until that moment you had forgotten her. Putting the axe aside, in a dash the door clanged open at your hand and you found her thoughtful eyes in the slanting ribbon of daylight. You sighed in relief. Safe and sound, your only friend left in the world shuffled in her stall, the space smelling of wood and hay. You approached her with an open palm, smoothing it over her black and white coat.

“Hey, sweetie.”

Animals could be so intelligent and perceptive at times. Willa nudged your shoulder, sensing the sorrow molding your heart, and you pressed your cheek to her warm neck. Smelling sweetly of grass and hay, her black mane slipped through the comb of your fingers like a shadow melting back into shade. You drew it away to uncover the white star on the center of her forehead. Her long lashes dipped somberly. You took a comb from its niche behind a joist and brushed along her coat for a long while. Without words, you found a way to speak to her of the events that unfolded the night before, thinking of them deeply and shutting your eyes as she remained close. 

In the evening he would return. And the next, and the one after. On and on it would go, and you could live a whole lifetime in fear and hatred and pain, unless you stopped it. He said you were the picture of a perfect wife. No man would have you now. A word from him and the whole town would condemn you if you refused his wants. Deviously, he had made sure it was impossible for you to say no to him and once again you were backed into a corner, that beetle trapped in a matchbox with no way out. 

You needed a place to think. After scooping Willa some oats you donned a hat and your father’s old hunting jacket, a garment fashioned from a durable brown suede with deep front pockets and elk horn buttons. It was familiar and warm, and a comfort. 

You hefted your horse’s saddle off the hook and over her back, commenced cinching the straps and adjusting the stirrups, and led her outside. Fetching your gun belt and a waterskin from the cottage, you mounted up and loped down the forest path. 

Deep in the woods, where the mountain air of spring violets and dew-spangled moss came sweet upon the senses, Nymph Lake rested like a jewel in a chest lined with evergreen velvet, a treasure to the eyes and ears. A glassy calm transfixed the sleeping waters, an aquatic scent lingering. Lily-pads shouldered its reeded edges, rocks shone brown beneath the changeful sheen of the serene ripples, and minnows balanced themselves among the underwater grasses which wavered and streamed in the natural flow of the pond. All around, the timberline hemmed the lone mountain lake in, with the sun scarcely streaking the treetops at the early morning hour. A woodpecker clung to the knot of a treebole and drilled for insects, and along the water a frog added its voice to the song of the wilderness. 

Thompson’s Peak rose up in the azure of the sky like the spires of an Arthurian castle. Seams of snow dwelled in the vast fissures of the mountainside and thrived in the shadows of the rock, a granite tapestry striated with the grays of smoke and storm clouds with canals of rust between. Willa’s hooves sunk into the soggy ground as she shifted on her feet. You swayed in the saddle, giving her some rein and leaning back as she began to climb uphill past a pile of rocks, out of the tree line and towards the sunny side of the bouldered mountain trail. 

For all of its sentimental worth to you, and as safe as any place you could find, Nymph Lake was not the refuge you sought. The times ahead and the path you were about to embark on was uncharted and uncertain territory. The trusting, pure chapter of your life would have to be left in shadow. 

Through the notch between Willa’s ebony ears, you aimed yourself towards the rugged slopes and mounds of the Sawtooths, the earth coarse, shifting with detritus and scree, with few and far pine trees taking root between. Long, bare logs and trunks of trees, parched and decaying, strewed the land, slowly sliding away and downwards, the old bending back into the earth as the new prospers, rising up in the form of saplings. 

Your grandmother’s words came to mind. Always do what your heart tells you. In the bare wind you listened; for one, for the other. The world to you once, the presiding presence of Thompson’s Peak filled your vision, steady as a lighthouse. 

If it were any other man, you could go to the law and report his crime. If you did nothing, you would crumble into a shell of yourself, something brittle and hollow for the wind to sweep away like the exoskeletons of summertime cicadas. If not you, it would be another. Picturing him luring and coercing another unwise girl, grinning at the prospect of her ruination, was enough to temper your insides to steel, your heart to adamant. 

You pulled Willa to a stop and dismounted on the gravel trail, unlimbering your gun. Six bullets occupied the cylinders in the loading chamber and you traced the notch in each one, twisting the mechanism around and around, acknowledging its life-altering clicks, small and clear. Your finger brushed the cool, curved steel trigger. For your protection, grandmother once said. In case you’re in the forest, lost in your foraging, and maybe you’re not watching your step, and you unwittingly stumble upon the hunting grounds of a predator. A beam of sunlight glinted along the barrel like a blinding star. I would have more peace of mind knowing you have some way to protect yourself and how to use it. I’m getting old, you know. 

Amidst the painful contemplation of your fate, fighting your last fight for the principles of your youth on that crumbling mountainside, Willa nosed a cluster of plants growing alongside the trail and set her teeth over their leaves, intending to munch, and everything stopped, suddenly sharpened. In a blink you tsked her away, and as you snapped the revolver chamber back into the loading gate, it all clicked into place, the sound like that of a key sliding in the lock of Death’s door. 

From memory, the page from one of your field guides on plants emerged in your mind’s eye. Death Camas was a member of the Liliaceae plant family, discernible for its grass-like leaves from which sprouted a raceme of white flowers with yellow anthers, as well as its distinctive onion scent. Fifteen different species thrived throughout North America, inhabiting mountain valleys, grassy plains, forests, and dry land alike, all of which grew from a white bulb with a fibrous root system. An unknowing passerby could easily mistake them for wild onions. A mere bite of one would invariably cause weakness and convulsions, vomiting and difficulty breathing, impair their muscles and nerves. A meal of them would stop their heart altogether. 

You crouched to the ground, stones grating underfoot, and your shadow fell over the colony of unassuming plants as you idled over them. Hands gloved, you grasped the base of the stems and pulled firmly. There was a snap as the pearly bulb relinquished its hold in the dirt and emerged in the light of day. One after another, dozens more ripped free without protest, clods of dirt clinging to the Camas’ stringy, tenuous roots. 

Indomitable and unwavering, as you reaped your bounty your resolve cemented to the same rock-hardness of the impassive mountain you stood upon. A mountain formed ages ago from the molten caverns of the Earth, transmuted through pressure and fire; a voyage that began with a roar, a rupture, a rock rending itself from an Archean mountainside which hurdled, crashing, into a valley to be carried down, down into the depths of the sea to slip beneath the subterraneous folds on the ocean floor, only for the process to begin again. 

This journey of tumult and upheaval was a natural cycle, one whose path was familiar to your tread through grief, and, newly, violation. The decision was final as you straightened to your full height.

You were not going to live with fear. You were going to live with guilt. 

He had you helpless, flat on your stomach with a rope of terror binding you in place. You would have him the same, and he would learn an inkling of the measure of pain you would forever carry throughout your life while he realized the end of his. 

I hate leaving it off here and the next part is so so close to being finished, but I was about to lose my mind if I didn’t post something I’ve written. I also thought it would be better to break it off here instead of part one being 22k words. 

I've worked so hard on this, drawing from my own well of pain, and I know this game came out in 2018 and fandom traffic has died down considerably, so if any part of this story sticks out to you I would love to hear your thoughts <3

Also a big fat thank you to every person who has encouraged me to keep writing. Y’all have no idea how many times you have saved my life. My betas, Jessica and Sara, as well my other mutuals on here 💗 Thank you. More than I can say. 

[love-ardour-anarchism]

She’s never felt as queer and she has never felt like any label fit her

and since I was a child I have been seeking to explain the ways I’ve felt to put in words exactly how I’ve felt I’m unlike all the other kids at school, at church and later at the parties and I had to get drunk to tolerate that sharpest feeling in throat near everytime that someone does remind me that the way I feel is not the way most people do

despite my best and brightest efforts and despite my obsession that led me then to poetry as my idea of a career I’ve never felt that how I felt felt quite the way that others said they felt when speaking of their love, relationships, connection, sex and all these other things and all the normativty has made me feel alone like I’m unlike all of the others and now aged 28 I still don’t get what “romance” is and I’m not sure if aromantic is the way I feel cause I love all the things that people think are “romance” when stripped off their compulsive nature and off the normativity and I get lost for days and hours at a time just trying to define the ways I’ve felt but failing everytime

and since the day I gifted it last spring she's worn a rainbow pin with holding hands depicted there upon her jacket’s collar for everyone to see and I feel damn near drunk when we hold hands just walking down the street in public

when she and I first met she wasn't one for labels and I don't think she'll ever be but she has mentioned some along the way and when she says that she feels so unwomanly I cannot help but tear myself in two between the adoration I feel for the way she is and all she does and how she thinks and acts and walks and talks and all the pain I feel alike there in her place, to be unlike the way that people think you ought to be and to be seen in ways that they don’t think that you are meant to be and to see things in ways that they don’t think you’re meant to see

and last night we were walking, in freezing cold, in some forsaken and industrial place were going to the store to get me sober drinks to take back to a party that had none she said that she thinks her classmates know shes queer and I spoke of the way they looked at me when I said I’m her girlfriend

Much later we got home and sat and talked for hours heads resting on each others shoulders were speaking of the fears we'd faced together

and the next morning I found on my bathroom mirror written there in lipstick smudged yet clear two colors and four characters

I <3 U

and I don't think I've felt as queer as when she called herself the same and there my heart grew corvid wings the feathers black and white and grey and fluttered right away a magpie nesting in my throat my voice becomes so soft when I just speak of her

last night I cried and then we held each other I told her that I'm always seeking labels and she told me she knew am trying to define, find truth and rules and piece together who and what I truly am and all these words escape me and looking at me from inside that bathroom mirror is myself aged ten or so and in her eyes I see the fear that none will love me like I love Yet in her arms I'm babbling brook and wings with softest feathers am broken-bawling-sobbing, bold and brave, am breathing softly there bereft of my most infant fears I’m everything at once and I cannot explain but when she kissed my forehead I felt sunlight in the dark of night that I am everything at once and cannot explain and I cannot find words in order to contain

and looking at me with her gaze so soft and gay she asked me why I think I have to and I think that I felt attacked at first but in her arms I'm starting to believe that maybe I don't have to and we can simply feel the way we feel can live and love each other in ways that none but us will ever truly understand and that perhaps I'm capable of learning to feel just okay with that

.SCRR

[jerzwriter]

This series tells the story of how Tobias and Casey's second child, Brooke Vivian Carrick, came to be. In this second installment, Tobias and Casey let a couple of their friends in on their plans just before they celebrate a memorable Valentine's Day.

Book: Open Heart (Post Series) Pairing: Tobias x Casey Carrick (F!MC) Characters: Sienna Trinh, Jackie Varma, Vivian Carrick (F!OC) Rating: Teen Words: 1,600 Summary: See above. A/N: This little series will be a few (?) short stories leading up to Brooke Carrick's birth on August 30th.

Sienna burst into the Diagnostic Team’s office, still shivering from commuting to work during a brutal Boston winter. “That’s it,” she said. “I’m applying for a job at UCLA Medical Center. I cannot do another winter here.”

Casey glanced up from her laptop, a sly grin spreading on her face. “Oh no, you’re not. Sure, the winters are tough, but you know what Boston has?” She gestured between herself and Jackie, who had also stopped by. “Us. Boston has us. You're not going to find friends like us in L.A.”

Sienna sighed as she took off her coat, stretching her back. “You’re right. I know, you’re right.”

“No, she’s not!” Jackie retorted. “You and I can go to L.A., and we’ll see Casey twice a year for girls’ weekends. Problem solved. We’d be fine.”

“Gee! Thanks, Jackie,” Casey replied. “I can just feel the love.”

“Speaking of girls’ weekends,” Sienna continued. “Should we book Smith Rock for March? I’d love to get out there before tourist season begins.”

Casey scrunched her nose. “For someone complaining about the cold, I don’t think you’d enjoy rock climbing and kayaking in Oregon in March.”

“I don’t think I would, either,” Jackie agreed.

At that moment, Tobias sauntered into the room, and Casey smiled tenderly when he placed a kiss atop her head.

“What’s this about rock climbing and kayaking?” he asked.

“Girls’ weekend,” Casey replied. “Though I Sienna might be rock climbing solo if Aurora can't make it. But I’m down for kayaking.”

Tobias sat next to his wife and gave her a knowing look as he bit into an apple. “Maybe hold off on that.”

Jackie’s eyebrows shot up. “Wow! Casey, tell me you’re not turning into one of those wives who lets her husband tell her what to do! Are you?”

“Of course not!” Casey retorted. “The only place he's allowed to boss me around is in bed."

Tobias chuckled contently as Sienna and Jackie gagged.

“Ignore us,” Casey laughed. “Mr. Eternal Optimist here thinks he has super sperm or something.”

“Uh, before I run out of here and lose my breakfast... what?” Jackie cringed.  

Casey glanced at Tobias, who gave her a nod.

“We’re trying for another baby,” Casey beamed.

“Oh my God, Casey!” Sienna exclaimed, running over to hug her friend. “That’s amazing news.”

Jackie, still seated, looked puzzled. “Uh, but didn’t you just have one?”

“Jackie! Samantha was born nearly two years ago. Besides, it takes the average person six months to conceive, so based on my calculations, I’ll be pregnant by June. Our new baby would be born next spring when Sammy is three, it’s perfect! And I can go on the girl’s trip in March, to boot!”

“Only one flaw in that plan, sweetheart,” Tobias chimed in. “I’m not average. You’re not average. We’re not average. Our little bambina will be on board much sooner than that.”

Casey rolled her eyes. “You still leaving, Jackie? I might join you!”

“You’re not going anywhere,” Tobias smirked, sliding his arm around his wife. “In fact, I think we should get some practice in right here.”

Sienna grabbed Jackie’s hand, pulling her toward the door. “Aaaand on that note, we’re out!”

As the women left, Tobias pulled Casey close. “Told you I could get rid of them,” he murmured with a playful growl.

“You’re incorrigible.”

“Maybe,” he said, tapping her nose with his finger. “But you love me.”

“I do.”

~~~~

Valentine’s Day, 2025

Already dressed for their date, Casey wobbled toward their bed as she slipped on her diamond stud earrings. She took a deep breath. Tobias had been looking forward to this evening for weeks. Valentine’s Day was his thing; he loved turning up the romance, and he was so proud of himself for getting a reservation at Mistral. She didn’t have the heart to tell him she couldn’t go.

A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts, and her mother-in-law, Vivian, stepped inside. She was babysitting Sammy tonight, and her granddaughter needed her elephant plushie, which had been left on Tobias and Casey’s bed. But one look at Casey and concern spread on Vivian’s face.

“Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” she asked. “You look absolutely peaked.”

Casey glanced up sadly. “I feel awful, Vivian. I think I caught that stomach bug Tobias had last week.”

“Oh my!” Vivian replied. “Then you need to tell Tobias and stay home to get some rest! I’ll stay and watch Samantha; this way, at least you two can spend the night alone.”

“With Tobias taking care of me? Hell of a romantic Valentine’s Day,” Casey groaned.

“Well, the fortunate part is that you two just brim with romance every day of the year. You don’t need a Hallmark holiday to celebrate that.”

“You’re right,” Casey said with a wan smile. “Can you send Tobias up?”

Moments later, Tobias burst through the bedroom door, worry etched on his face. “Baby, what’s going on?” He asked, placing a hand on her forehead.

“I think I caught the stomach bug you had last week.”

“Yeah, but I was burning up, and you don’t seem to have a fever. Did you eat anything that might disagree with you?”

“Eat?” Casey chuckled weakly. “I've barely eaten. My stomach has been off for days.”

Tobias paused, a realization dawning in his eyes. “Casey, are you… late?”

“Late?” she repeated, almost stunned by the question. She mumbled to herself, counting on her fingers. “I haven’t been keeping track as well as normal with everything going on, but if I am, it’s only by a few days.”

Tobias’s eyebrows lifted.  

“No!” Casey insisted. “It’s entirely too soon! That’s impossible.”

“Casey. Baby girl, let’s go back in time,” he teased. “Pretend you’re in college; no, let’s go all the way back to high school. High school biology class.” He stood up and cleared his throat. “All right, Miss MacTavish, I assume you read chapter 2. So, can you tell the class how babies are made?”

“Tobias,” she laughed with a shake of her head.

“Excuse me? That’s Mr. Carrick to you, young lady. Now, unless you want to admit that you didn't do your homework, tell the class how babies are made.”

“Babies are made through unprotected sex, Mr. Carrick,” she giggled.

“OK, I'm gonna switch back to husband mode now, or this is gonna get real weird real fast,” he smirked. “Now, about how many times do we have unprotected sex per week?”

“Five to seven times more than the average American couple,” she sighed. “Depending on the study, of course.”

Tobias grinned at her silently, then finally said, “I’ll go buy a test.”

“But our dinner plans,” she protested.

“Do you really want to eat, baby?”

She looked at him, her complexion turning green just thinking about being in a crowded restaurant surrounded by the smell of food. “You’re right. Go buy a test.”

“Buy two,” she called after him as he reached the door. “Maybe three. I like to be sure.”

He turned back and wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight and kissing her forehead. “This could be it,” he smiled. “This could really be it.”

“Well, if it is, I won’t feel guilty about being too tired to shop for a Valentine’s Day gift for you this week.”

Tobias handed her a nightgown with a smile. “Get changed and get under the covers. I’ll tell Ma I’m running out to get you medicine. We don’t need her to know what’s happening just yet. I’ll be right back.”

~~~~~

Tobias and Casey locked the door to their en suite bathroom. Tobias opened the first box and handed the plastic test trip to Casey.

“OK, time to pee on this,” he instructed with a grin.

Casey stifled a laugh. “If you’d told me we’d be celebrating Valentine’s Day with you ordering me to pee on something, I would’ve thought you had a new kink... not this.”

“Good point,” he chuckled. “But let’s get to it, and I’ll set the timer.”

They sat on the bed, hands clasped as they waited. “This feels so different from the first time I took a pregnancy test,” Casey mused. “I was all alone and so scared. I didn’t know how you’d react, and I was barely an attending... I couldn’t imagine it all working out.”  

“And look at us now,” Tobias said, gently tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Do you think we’re ready for this?” she asked. “Two children, two demanding careers....”

“We are,” he nodded confidently. “Honey, don’t you know by now? There’s nothing we can’t handle together.”

They shared a tender kiss, disappointed when it was interrupted by the timer.  

“Oh boy,” Casey sighed. “Ready for this?”

“Very much so!”

They walked into the bathroom and picked up the first test. Tobias pumped his fist and whispered, “Yes!” while Casey let out a squeal.

“OK, OK, OK,” Casey cautioned, trying to keep her excitement in check. “Let’s check the others... that’s just one test.”

They checked tests number two and three, which had the same results. Casey turned to Tobias, simply beaming. “Looks like you’re going to be a daddy again! And not in the kinky way we roleplay every other weekend.”

Tobias lifted her in his arms, chucking as he spun her around. “Do I tell you enough how much I love you? How perfect you are for me?”

“You do,” she smiled. “But considering I’m about to grow another baby for you, you can tell me again... every day of this pregnancy... and beyond.”

He kissed her again, only for her to pull back suddenly as a wave of nausea hit. Tobias sat by her side, lovingly rubbing her back. When she finally sat up, her hair was a mess, and her face looked tired, but she still managed a weak smile.

“You’re so beautiful,” Tobias said, his eyes full of admiration.

Casey let out a chuckle. “This isn’t my best look.”

“Oh, yes, it is,” he said, holding her close. “We’re going to have another baby!”

“Yes, we are,” she grinned. “Happy Valentine’s Day, love!”

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

Tagging others separately.

[hanespiritu]

BENEATH THE EARTH, BENEATH HER SPELL

(Hades x Persephone)

written by: Han Espiritu

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The Underworld was silent, save for the rhythmic lapping of the Styx against its rocky shore. Shadows slithered through the halls of Hades' palace, whispering like lost souls, curling around their master’s feet as he walked. His presence alone commanded obedience. His face, sharp and unsmiling, could freeze even the most defiant shades into submission. When he spoke, it was in a voice as deep and cold as the earth itself, laden with a quiet authority that brooked no argument.

The dead feared him. The gods respected him. Even Olympus, with all its glittering excess, treated him with wary distance.

But when he crossed the threshold of his chambers, the mighty Lord of the Underworld became something else entirely.

A warmth foreign to his kingdom awaited him in the form of a goddess with golden hair and a voice like spring’s first bloom. Persephone.

Hades let out a long, bone-weary sigh, rolling his shoulders as he entered their chambers. His cape, heavy with the scent of the Underworld, slid off his broad shoulders, pooling onto the marble floor. He barely made it past the doorway before Persephone, who had been perched on the bed, perked up at the sight of him.

“Oh, my poor workaholic husband,” she cooed, setting aside her embroidery. “Did the souls misbehave again?”

Hades groaned, walking straight to the bed and all but collapsing onto it. His face landed against Persephone’s lap, his arms wrapping around her waist as if she were his only tether to peace.

“You have no idea,” he mumbled against her soft dress. “Do you know what it’s like arguing with thousands of dead mortals who all think their punishments are unfair? I had one today—one—who tried to bribe me. Bribe me, Persephone! With what, you ask? A ‘great business idea’ for expanding Elysium.”

Persephone’s laughter, light and airy, filled the room like the first bloom of spring. “Oh no! What ever shall we do without his divine expertise?”

“I nearly banished him into Tartarus just for irritating me,” Hades grumbled, his hands tightening around her waist, as if physically holding onto her could erase the long, arduous day he had endured.

Persephone hummed, playing with his midnight hair, twirling the soft strands around her fingers. “Well, my dear husband, I think you need a break.”

“This,” he mumbled, snuggling further into her lap, “is my break. You are my break.”

She giggled, running her fingers along the sharp planes of his face. “Hades, you’re so dramatic.”

He turned his head, peering up at her with narrowed eyes. “My love, I preside over the dead. If I don’t have a flair for drama, what do I have?”

“A wife who loves you very much?” she suggested playfully, poking his cheek.

His expression softened in an instant, and a rare, genuine smile graced his lips. “That, my love, is the only thing keeping me sane.”

Persephone pressed a tender kiss to his forehead, her lips lingering there. “Then let me take care of you tonight. You work too hard.”

He sighed contentedly, his grip on her never loosening. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Nonsense,” she whispered, tucking a stray strand of hair behind his ear. “You deserve all the love I have to give.”

Hades let out a deep, rumbling sound, something between a groan and a chuckle, before flipping them over in a swift motion. Now, she was beneath him, her golden hair splayed across the pillows like spun sunlight.

“I should be the one pampering you,” he murmured, tracing her cheek with a reverent touch. “You bring life into a kingdom of death, my queen. Every flower that blooms here, every moment of joy—it’s all because of you.”

She cupped his face, her gaze soft but firm. “And you make it a home, my king.”

He kissed her then—slow, deep, utterly worshipful. It was a kiss that spoke of longing, of devotion, of the endless love he carried for her. When they finally pulled apart, Persephone let out a breathless laugh, brushing their noses together.

“Are you feeling better now?” she asked with a teasing grin.

Hades, ever the brooding god, let out an exaggerated sigh. “A little. But I may require a few more kisses to fully recover.”

“Oh, you poor thing,” she mused, pretending to be concerned. “Well, if it’s for my beloved husband, I suppose I can oblige.”

She kissed him again, and again, and again—until the Underworld, once dark and somber, was filled with nothing but their love.

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